



Produced by David Widger






AFTERWARDS

AND OTHER STORIES

By Ian Maclaren

1898

TO

LADY GRAINGER-STEWART

IN REMEMBRANCE OF THE DAYS OF LONG AGO AND THE FRIENDS WHO ARE FAR AWAY




AFTERWARDS


I

He received the telegram in a garden where he was gazing on a vision
of blue, set in the fronds of a palm, and listening to the song of the
fishers, as it floated across the bay.

"You look so utterly satisfied," said his hostess, in the high, clear
voice of Englishwomen, "that, I know you are tasting the luxury of
a contrast. The Riviera is charming in December; imagine London, and
Cannes, is Paradise."

As he smiled assent in the grateful laziness of a hard-worked man,
his mind was stung with the remembrance of a young wife swathed in the
dreary fog, who, above all things, loved the open air and the shining of
the sun.

Her plea was that Bertie would weary alone, and that she hated
travelling, but it came to him quite suddenly that this was always the
programme of their holidays--some Mediterranean villa, full of clever
people, for him, and the awful dulness of that Bloomsbury street for
her; or he went North to a shooting-lodge, where he told his best
stories in the smoking-room, after a long day on the purple heather; and
she did her best for Bertie at some watering-place, much frequented on
account of its railway facilities and economical lodgings. Letters of
invitation had generally a polite reference to his wife--"If Mrs.
Trevor can accompany you I shall be still more delighted"--but it was
understood that she would not accept "We have quite a grudge against
Mrs. Trevor, because she will never come with her husband; there is some
beautiful child who monopolises her," his hostess would explain on his
arrival; and Trevor allowed it to be understood that his wife was quite
devoted to Bertie, and would be miserable without him.

When he left the room, it was explained: "Mrs. Trevor is a hopelessly
quiet person, what is called a 'good wife,' you know."

"The only time she dined with us, Tottie Fribbyl--he was a Theosophist
then, it's two years ago--was too amusing for words, and told us what
incarnation he was going through.

"Mrs. Trevor, I believe, had never heard of Theosophy, and looked quite
horrified at the idea of poor Tottie's incarnation.

"'Isn't it profane to use such words?' she said to me. So I changed to
skirt dancing, and would you believe me, she had never seen it?

"What can you do with a woman like that? Nothing remains but religion
and the nursery. Why do clever men marry those impossible women?"

Trevor was gradually given to understand, as by an atmosphere, that he
was a brilliant man wedded to a dull wife, and there were hours--his
worst hours--when he agreed.

_Cara mia, cara mia_, sang the sailors; and his wife's face in its
perfect refinement and sweet beauty suddenly replaced the Mediterranean.

Had he belittled his wife, with her wealth of sacrifice and delicate
nature, beside women in spectacles who wrote on the bondage of marriage,
and leaders of fashion who could talk of everything from horse-racing to
palmistry?

He had only glanced at her last letter; now he read it carefully:--

"The flowers were lovely, and it was so mindful of you to send them,
just like my husband. Bertie and I amused ourselves arranging and
rearranging them in glasses, till we had made our tea-table lovely. But
I was just one little bit disappointed not to get a letter--you see
how exacting I am, sir. I waited for every post, and Bertie said, 'Has
father's letter come yet?' When one is on holiday, writing letters is
an awful bore; but please just a line to Bertie and me. We have a map of
the Riviera, and found out all the places you have visited in the yacht;
and we tried to imagine you sailing on that azure sea, and landing among
those silver olives. I am so grateful to every one for being kind to
you, and I hope you will enjoy yourself to the full. Bertie is a little
stronger, I'm sure; his cheeks were quite rosy to-day for him. It was
his birthday on Wednesday, and I gave him a little treat The sun was
shining brightly in the forenoon, and we had a walk in the Gardens,
and made believe that it was Italy! Then we went to Oxford Street, and
Bertie chose a regiment of soldiers for his birthday present He wished
some guns so much that I allowed him to have them as a present from you.
They only cost one-and-sixpence, and I thought you would like him to
have something. Jane and he had a splendid game of hide-and-seek in the
evening, and my couch was the den, so you see we have our own gaiety in
Bloomsbury.

"Don't look sulky at this long scri