CHAPTER X

onesideandprestigeandmorethancommongiftsontheother,beauty,too,ifyoucometothat,andasgreatinitsmaleripewayashersinitsgirlishness—"IthinkthatIatanyratemustgoback.Mywife—" "Ingeborg!Wakeup!Whatareyoudreamingabout?" PositivelyLadyPamelawasnotlisteningtohim. Heturnedonhisheelandlefthertogoonwavinghersunshadeathisdaughterifthatwaswhatsheliked,andwentbacktowardsthehousereflectingthatwomenreallyarequitesadlydeficientinimaginationandthatitisagreatpity.Eventhisone,thiswell-bred,well-taughtbrightbeing,wassounimaginativethatsheactuallysawnoreasonwhyaman'sgrown-updaughter....Reallyadeficiencyofimaginationamountedtostupidity.HehardlylikedtohavetoadmitthatLadyPamelawasstupid,butanyhowwomenoughtnottohavethevote. HewentawaybackintothemaingardenalongthepathbythegreatherbaceousbordertheninaspecialsplendouroftulipsandallthecleanmagnificenceofMay,thinkingwithhiseyesonthegroundhowdifferentthingswouldhavebeenifwhenhewasacuratehehadbeensaneenoughnottomarry.Theclearnessnowinhislifeifonlyhehadnotdonethat!Nobodysofa-riddeninit,nogrown-upthwartingdaughters,andhimselfvigorous,distinguished,entirelydesirableasahusband,choosingwiththemellow,yetnottoomellow,wisdomofmiddlelifeexactlywhowasbestfittedtosharetheadvantageshehadtooffer.EvenLadyPamelawouldnotthenhavebeenabletothinkofhimasold.Itwashisfamilythatdatedhim:hisgrey-hairedwife,hisgrown-updaughters.Thefollyofcurates!Theblackincurablefollyofcurates.Andheforgotforagloomyinstantwhatheasarulewithasighacknowledged,thatithadallbeenProvidence,eventhenrestlesslyatworkguidinghim,andthatMrs.Bullivantandthegirlsmerelyconstitutedoneofitsmanyinscrutableends. ThebaserportionoftheBishop'sbrainwasabouttosubstituteanotherwordforguidingwhenhewassaved—providentially,thenoblerportionofhisbraininstantlypointedout—byencounteringtheDuchess. Shewascomingslowlyalongexaminingtheplantsintheborderwiththeinterestofagarden-lover,andpointingoutbymeansofherumbrellathevarioussuccessestoamantheBishoptooktobeoneofherparty.Hewasabigmaninill-fittingshinyblackwithsomethingoftheairofoneofthelessreputableCabinetMinistersandwas,infact,HerrDremmelbutnooneexceptHerrDremmelknewit.Hehadarrivedthatafternoon,amananimatedbyasinglepurpose,whichwastomarryIngeborgassoonaspossibleandgetbackquicklytohisworkandhehadcomestraightfromthestationtothePalaceandwalkedinunquestionedwithalltheothers,andafteraperiodofpeeringaboutinthedrawing-roomforIngeborghaddriftedoutintothegarden,wherehehadatoncestumbledupontheDuchess,whowasbeingembitteredbyaprebendaryofservilehabitswhoinsistedonagreeingwithherastotheLatinnameofapatchofProphet-flowerwhensheknewallthetimeshewaswrong. "Youtellme,"shesaid,turningonHerrDremmelwhowaspeeringatthem. "WhatshallItellyou,madam?"heinquired,politelysweepingoffhisfelthatandbowingbeautifully. "This.Whatisitsname?I'veforgotten." HerrDremmel,whotookalargeinterestinbotany,immediatelytoldher. "Ofcourse,"saidtheDuchess."IknewitwasArnebiaevenwhenIsaiditwassomethingelse.It'saborage." "Arnebiaechinoides,madam,"saidHerrDremmelpeeringcloser."AnativeofArmenia." "Ofcoursethey'llconquerus,"remarkedtheDuchesstotheprebendary. "Oh,ofcourse,"heagreed,thoughhedidnottakehermeaning,forhehadbeenaprebendarysometimeandwasalittleslow,intellectually,atgettingunderway. ThentheDuchessdroppedhimandturnedentirelytoHerrDremmel,whothoughhehadneverseenaherbaceousborderinhislifebysheerreasoningwasabletotellherveryintimatelywhattheBishop,whohesupposeddidthedigging,hadbeendoingtoitthepreviousautumn,andtheexactamountandnatureofthefertilizershehadputin. ShewassuggestingheshouldcomebackwithherthatafternoontoCoopsandstaythereindefinitely,soprofoundandattractivedidhisknowledgeseemofwhatherowngardenandherfarmneededinthewayofatreatmenthealludedtoascross-dressing,whenheinterruptedher—athingthathadneverhappenedtoherbeforewhileinvitingsomebodytoCoops—toinquirewhythereweresoverymanypeopleinthedrawing-roomandonthelawn. TheDuchessstared."It'saparty,"shesaid."Tocelebratethebetrothal.Don'tyouknow?" "Iamgratified,"saidHerrDremmel,"tofindtheparentssoevidentlypleased.Itaddsagracetowhatwasalreadyfullofcharm.Butwoulditnothavebeenmorecompleteiftheyhadinvitedme?" "Iquiteagreewithyou,"saidtheDuchess."Muchmorecomplete.Well,anyhow,hereyouare.Soyouthinkmysoilwantsnitrogen?" "Certainly,madam.Intheformofrapecapeandammoniasalts—butcombinedwithorganicmanure.Artificialmanurealonewillnot,inhotweather—whoisthat?"hebrokeoff,pointingwithhisumbrellatotheBishopadvancingalongthepath,hiseyesontheground,sardonicallymeditating. "What?"saidtheDuchess,intentonthenotesshewasmakingofhisrecommendationsinhernote-book. "That,"saidHerrDremmel. TheDuchessl