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IV

This piece of strategy left me staring and made me, I must confess, quite furious. My only consolation was that Archie, when I told him, looked as blank as myself, and that the trick touched him more nearly, for I was not now in love with Louisa. We agreed that we required an explanation and we pretended to expect one the next day in the shape of a letter satisfactory even to the point of being apologetic. When I say “we” pretended I mean that I did, for my suspicion that he knew what had been on foot–through an arrangement with Linda–lasted only a moment. If his resentment was less than my own his surprise was equally great. I had been willing to bolt, but I felt slighted by the ease with which Mrs. Pallant had shown she could part with us. Archie professed no sense of a grievance, because in the first place he was shy about it and because in the second it was evidently not definite to him that he had been encouraged–equipped as he was, I think, with no very particular idea of what constituted encouragement. He was fresh from the wonderful country in which there may between the ingenuous young be so little question of “intentions.” He was but dimly conscious of his own and could by no means have told me whether he had been challenged or been jilted. I didn’t want to exasperate him, but when at the end of three days more we were still without news of our late companions I observed that it was very simple:–they must have been just hiding from us; they thought us dangerous; they wished to avoid entanglements. They had found us too attentive and wished not to raise false hopes. He appeared to accept this explanation and even had the air–so at least I inferred from his asking me no questions–of judging the matter might be delicate for myself. The poor youth was altogether much mystified, and I smiled at the image in his mind of Mrs. Pallant fleeing from his uncle’s importunities. We decided to leave Homburg, but if we didn’t pursue our fugitives it wasn’t simply that we were ignorant of where they were. I could have found that out with a little trouble, but I was deterred by the reflexion that this would be Louisa’s reasoning. She was a dreadful humbug and her departure had been a provocation–I fear it was in that stupid conviction that I made out a little independent itinerary with Archie. I even believed we should learn where they were quite soon enough, and that our patience–even my young man’s–would be longer than theirs. Therefore I uttered a small private cry of triumph when three weeks later–we happened to be at Interlaken–he reported to me that he had received a note from Miss Pallant. The form of this confidence was his enquiring if there were particular reasons why we should longer delay our projected visit to the Italian lakes. Mightn’t the fear of the hot weather, which was moreover at that season our native temperature, cease to operate, the middle of September having arrived? I answered that we would start on the morrow if he liked, and then, pleased apparently that I was so easy to deal with, he revealed his little secret. He showed me his letter, which was a graceful natural document– it covered with a few flowing strokes but a single page of note-paper– not at all compromising to the young lady. If, however, it was almost the apology I had looked for–save that this should have come from the mother–it was not ostensibly in the least an invitation. It mentioned casually–the mention was mainly in the words at the head of her paper– that they were on the Lago Maggiore, at Baveno; but it consisted mainly of the expression of a regret that they had had so abruptly to leave Homburg. Linda failed to say under what necessity they had found themselves; she only hoped we hadn’t judged them too harshly and would accept “this hasty line” as a substitute for the omitted good-bye. She also hoped our days were passing pleasantly and with the same lovely weather that prevailed south of the Alps; and she remained very sincerely and with the kindest remembrances–!