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A Matter Of Taste
by
He had a private income–not a large one–of his own, and had saved out of it. She was entitled under her grandmother’s will to a sum which made her an heiress in a modest way, and thus there was no reason why the engagement should be a long one, and, though no date had been definitely fixed for the marriage, it was understood that it should take place at some time before the end of the summer.
Soon after the engagement, however, an invalid aunt with whom Ella had always been a great favourite was ordered to the south of France, and implored her to go with her; which Ella, who had a real affection for her relative, as well as a strong sense of duty, had consented to do.
This was a misfortune in one of two ways: it either curtailed that most necessary and most delightful period during which fiances discover one another’s idiosyncrasies and weaknesses, or it made it necessary to postpone the marriage.
George naturally preferred the former, as the more endurable evil; but Ella’s letters from abroad began to hint more and more plainly at delay. Her aunt might remain on the Continent all the summer, and she could not possibly leave her; there was so much to be done after her return that could not be done in a hurry; they had not even begun to furnish the pretty little house on Campden Hill that was to be their new home–it would be better to wait till November, or even later.
The mere idea was alarming to George, and he remonstrated as far as he dared; but Ella remained firm, and he grew desperate.
He might have spared himself the trouble. About the middle of June Ella’s aunt–who, of course, had had to leave the Riviera–grew tired of travelling, and Ella, to George’s intense satisfaction, returned to her mother’s house in Linden Gardens, Notting Hill.
And now, when our story opens, George, who had managed to get away from office-work two hours before his usual time, was hurrying towards Linden Gardens as fast as a hansom could take him, to see his betrothed for the first time after their long separation.
He was eager, naturally, and a little nervous. Would Ella still persist in her wish for delay? or would he be able to convince her that there were no obstacles in the way? He felt he had strong arguments on his side, if only–and here was the real seat of his anxiety–if only her objections were not raised from some other motive! She might have been trying to prepare him for a final rupture, and then–‘Well,’ he concluded, with his customary good sense, ‘no use meeting trouble halfway–in five minutes I shall know for certain!’
* * * * *
At the same moment Mrs. Hylton and her daughter Flossie, a vivacious girl in the transitionary sixteen-year-old stage, were in the drawing-room at Linden Gardens. It was the ordinary double drawing-room of a London house, but everything in it was beautiful and harmonious. The eye was vaguely rested by the delicate and subdued colour of walls and hangings; cabinets, antique Persian pottery, rare bits of china, all occupied the precise place in which their decorative value was most felt; a room, in short, of exceptional individuality and distinction.
Flossie was standing at the window, from which a glimpse could just be caught of fresh green foliage and the lodge-gates, with the bustle of the traffic in the High Street beyond; Mrs. Hylton was writing at a Flemish bureau in the corner.
‘I suppose,’ said Flossie meditatively, as she fingered a piece of old stained glass that was hanging in the window, ‘we shall have George here this afternoon.’
Mrs. Hylton raised her head. She had a striking face, tinted a clear olive, with a high wave of silver hair crowning the forehead; her eyebrows were dark, and so were the brilliant eyes; the nose was aquiline, and the thin, well-cut mouth a little hard. She was a woman who had been much admired in her time, and who still retained a certain attraction, though some were apt to find her somewhat cold and unsympathetic. Her daughter Ella, for example, was always secretly a little in awe of her mother, who, however, had no terrors for audacious, outspoken Flossie.