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Mrs.
van der Luyden's attitude said neither yes nor no, but always appeared to
incline to clemency till her thin lips, wavering into the shadow of a smile,
made the almost invariable reply: "I
shall first have to talk this over with my husband."
She
and Mr. van der Luyden were so exactly alike that Archer often wondered how,
after forty years of the closest conjugality, two such merged identities
ever separated themselves enough for anything as controversial as a
talking-over. But as neither
had ever reached a decision without prefacing it by this mysterious
conclave, Mrs. Archer and her son, having set forth their case, waited
resignedly for the familiar phrase.
Mrs.
van der Luyden, however, who had seldom surprised any one, now surprised
them by reaching her long hand toward the bell-rope.
"I
think," she said, "I should like Henry to hear what you have told
me."
A
footman appeared, to whom she gravely added: "If Mr. van der Luyden has
finished reading the newspaper, please ask him to be kind enough to
come."
She
said "reading the newspaper" in the tone in which a Minister's
wife might have said: "Presiding
at a Cabinet meeting"--not from any arrogance of mind, but because the
habit of a life-time, and the attitude of her friends and relations, had led
her to consider Mr. van der Luyden's least gesture as having an almost
sacerdotal importance.
Her
promptness of action showed that she considered the case as pressing as Mrs.
Archer; but, lest she should be thought to have committed herself in
advance, she added, with the sweetest look:
"Henry always enjoys seeing you, dear Adeline; and he will wish
to congratulate Newland."
The
double doors had solemnly reopened and between them appeared Mr. Henry van
der Luyden, tall, spare and frock-coated, with faded fair hair, a straight
nose like his wife's and the same look of frozen gentleness in eyes that
were merely pale grey instead of pale blue.
Mr.
van der Luyden greeted Mrs. Archer with cousinly affability, proffered to
Newland low-voiced congratulations couched in the same language as his
wife's, and seated himself in one of the brocade armchairs with the
simplicity of a reigning sovereign.
"I
had just finished reading the Times," he said, laying his long
finger-tips together. "In
town my mornings are so much occupied that I find it more convenient to read
the newspapers after luncheon."
"Ah,
there's a great deal to be said for that plan-- indeed I think my uncle
Egmont used to say he found it less agitating not to read the morning papers
till after dinner," said Mrs. Archer responsively.
"Yes:
my good father abhorred hurry. But
now we live in a constant rush," said Mr. van der Luyden in measured
tones, looking with pleasant deliberation about the large shrouded room
which to Archer was so complete an image of its owners.
"But
I hope you HAD finished your reading, Henry?" his wife interposed.
"Quite--quite,"
he reassured her.
"Then
I should like Adeline to tell you--"
"Oh,
it's really Newland's story," said his mother smiling; and proceeded to
rehearse once more the monstrous tale of the affront inflicted on Mrs.
Lovell Mingott.
"Of
course," she ended, "Augusta Welland and Mary Mingott both felt
that, especially in view of Newland's engagement, you and Henry OUGHT TO
KNOW."
"Ah--"
said Mr. van der Luyden, drawing a deep breath.
There
was a silence during which the tick of the monumental ormolu clock on the
white marble mantelpiece grew as loud as the boom of a minute-gun.
Archer contemplated with awe the two slender faded figures, seated
side by side in a kind of viceregal rigidity, mouthpieces of some remote
ancestral authority which fate compelled them to wield, when they would so
much rather have lived in simplicity and seclusion, digging invisible weeds
out of the perfect lawns of Skuytercliff, and playing Patience together in
the evenings.
Mr.
van der Luyden was the first to speak.
"You
really think this is due to some--some intentional interference of Lawrence
Lefferts's?" he enquired, turning to Archer.
"I'm
certain of it, sir. Larry has
been going it rather harder than usual lately--if cousin Louisa won't mind
my mentioning it--having rather a stiff affair with the postmaster's wife in
their village, or some one of that sort; and whenever poor Gertrude Lefferts
begins to suspect anything, and he's afraid of trouble, he gets up a fuss of
this kind, to show how awfully moral he is, and talks at the top of his
voice about the impertinence of inviting his wife to meet people he doesn't
wish her to know. He's simply
using Madame Olenska as a lightning-rod; I've seen him try the same thing
often before."
"The
LEFFERTSES!--" said Mrs. van der Luyden.
"The
LEFFERTSES!--" echoed Mrs. Archer.
"What would uncle Egmont have said of Lawrence Lefferts's
pronouncing on anybody's social position?
It shows what Society has come to."
"We'll
hope it has not quite come to that," said Mr. van der Luyden firmly.
"Ah,
if only you and Louisa went out more!" sighed Mrs. Archer.
But
instantly she became aware of her mistake.
The van der Luydens were morbidly sensitive to any criticism of their
secluded existence. They were
the arbiters of fashion, the Court of last Appeal, and they knew it, and
bowed to their fate. But being
shy and retiring persons, with no natural inclination for their part, they
lived as much as possible in the sylvan solitude of Skuytercliff, and when
they came to town, declined all invitations on the plea of Mrs. van der
Luyden's health.
Newland
Archer came to his mother's rescue. "Everybody in New York knows what
you and cousin Louisa represent. That's
why Mrs. Mingott felt she ought not to allow this slight on Countess Olenska
to pass without consulting you."
Mrs.
van der Luyden glanced at her husband, who glanced back at her.
"It
is the principle that I dislike," said Mr. van der Luyden.
"As long as a member of a well-known family is backed up by that
family it should be considered-- final."
"It
seems so to me," said his wife, as if she were producing a new thought.
"I
had no idea," Mr. van der Luyden continued, "that things had come
to such a pass." He
paused, and looked at his wife again. "It
occurs to me, my dear, that the Countess Olenska is already a sort of
relation-- through Medora Manson's first husband. At any rate, she will be when Newland marries."
He turned toward the young man.
"Have you read this morning's Times, Newland?"
"Why,
yes, sir," said Archer, who usually tossed off half a dozen papers with
his morning coffee.
Husband
and wife looked at each other again. Their
pale eyes clung together in prolonged and serious consultation; then a faint
smile fluttered over Mrs. van der Luyden's face.
She had evidently guessed and approved.
Mr.
van der Luyden turned to Mrs. Archer. "If
Louisa's health allowed her to dine out--I wish you would say to Mrs. Lovell
Mingott--she and I would have been happy to--er--fill the places of the
Lawrence Leffertses at her dinner." He paused to let the irony of this sink in.
"As you know, this is impossible."
Mrs. Archer sounded a sympathetic assent.
"But Newland tells me he has read this morning's Times;
therefore he has probably seen that Louisa's relative, the Duke of St.
Austrey, arrives next week on the Russia.
He is coming to enter his new sloop, the Guinevere, in next summer's
International Cup Race; and also to have a little canvasback shooting at
Trevenna." Mr. van der Luyden paused again, and continued with
increasing benevolence: "Before
taking him down to Maryland we are inviting a few friends to meet him
here--only a little dinner--with a reception afterward.
I am sure Louisa will be as glad as I am if Countess Olenska will let
us include her among our guests."
He got up, bent his long body with a stiff friendliness toward his
cousin, and added: "I
think I have Louisa's authority for saying that she will herself leave the
invitation to dine when she drives out presently: with our cards--of course
with our cards."
Mrs.
Archer, who knew this to be a hint that the seventeen-hand chestnuts which
were never kept waiting were at the door, rose with a hurried murmur of
thanks. Mrs. van der Luyden
beamed on her with the smile of Esther interceding with Ahasuerus; but her
husband raised a protesting hand.
"There
is nothing to thank me for, dear Adeline; nothing whatever.
This kind of thing must not happen in New York; it shall not, as long
as I can help it," he pronounced with sovereign gentleness as he
steered his cousins to the door.
Two
hours later, every one knew that the great C-spring barouche in which Mrs.
van der Luyden took the air at all seasons had been seen at old Mrs.
Mingott's door, where a large square envelope was handed in; and that
evening at the Opera Mr. Sillerton Jackson was able to state that the
envelope contained a card inviting the Countess Olenska to the dinner which
the van der Luydens were giving the following week for their cousin, the
Duke of St. Austrey.
Some
of the younger men in the club box exchanged a smile at this announcement,
and glanced sideways at Lawrence Lefferts, who sat carelessly in the front
of the box, pulling his long fair moustache, and who remarked with
authority, as the soprano paused: "No
one but Patti ought to attempt the Sonnambula."
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