‘Oh! From her?’
‘No. Fleur’s never said a word. From Miss June Forsyte.’
‘That woman! She’s sure to have plumped it all out. But Fleur’s fond of you.’
‘I belong.’
It seemed to Soames a queer way of putting it; pathetic some-how!
‘Well,’ he said, ‘I’ve not made a sign. Perhaps you’d like to know how I formed my view.’
‘No, sir.’
Soames glanced quickly at him and away again. This was a bitter moment, no doubt, for young Michael! Was one precipitating a crisis which one felt, deeply yet vaguely, had to be reached and passed? He himself knew how to wait, but did this modern young man, so feather-pated and scattery? Still, he was a gentleman. That at least had become a cardinal belief with Soames. And it was a comfort to him looking at the ‘White Monkey’ on the wall, who had so slender a claim to such a title.
‘The only thing,’ he muttered, ‘is to wait – ’
‘Not “and see”, sir; anything but that. I can wait and not see, or I can have the whole thing out.’
‘No,’ said Soames, with emphasis, ‘don’t have it out! I may be mistaken. There’s everything against it; she knows which side her bread is buttered.’
‘Don’t!’ cried Michael, and got up.
‘Now, now,’ murmured Soames; ‘I’ve upset you. Everything depends on keeping your head.’
Michael emitted an unhappy little laugh.
’You can’t go round the world again, sir. Perhaps I’d better, this time, and alone.’
Soames looked at him. ‘This won’t do’, he said. ‘She’s got a strong affection for you; it’s just feverishness, if it’s anything. Take it like a man, and keep quiet.’ He was talking to the young man’s back now, and found it easier. ‘She was always a spoiled child, you know; spoiled children get things into their heads, but it doesn’t amount to anything. Can’t you get her interested in these slums?’
Michael turned round.
‘How far has it gone?’
‘There you go!’ said Soames. ‘Not any way so far as I know. I only happened to see her dancing with him last night at that hotel, and noticed her – her expression.’
The word ‘eyes’ had seemed somehow too extravagant.
‘There’s always his wife,’ he added quickly, ‘she’s an attractive little thing; and he’s going to farm down there – they tell me. That’ll take him all his time. How would it be if I took Fleur to Scotland for August and September? With this strike on there’ll be some places in the market still.’
‘No, sir, that’s only putting off the evil day. It must go to a finish, one way or the other.’
Soames did not answer for some time.
‘It’s never any good to meet trouble half-way,’ he said at last. ‘You young people are always in a hurry. One can do things, but one can’t undo them. It’s not,’ he went on shyly, ‘as if this were anything new – an unfortunate old business revived for the moment; it’ll die away again as it did before, if it’s properly left alone. Plenty of exercise, and keep her mind well occupied.’
The young man’s expression was peculiar. ‘And have you found that successful, sir, in your experience?’ it seemed to say. That woman June had been blurting out his past, he shouldn’t wonder!
‘Promise me, anyway, to keep what I’ve said to yourself, and do nothing rash.’
Michael shook his head. ‘I can’t promise anything, it must depend; but I’ll remember your advice, sir.’
And with this Soames had to be content.
Acting on that instinct, born of love, which guided him in his dealings with Fleur, he bade her an almost casual farewell, and next day returned to Mapledurham. He detailed to Annette everything that was not of importance, for to tell her what was would never do.
His home in these last days of July was pleasurable; and almost at once he went out fishing in the punt. There, in contemplation of his line and the gliding water, green with reflection, he felt rested. Bulrushes, water-lilies, dragon-flies, and the cows in his own fields, the incessant cooing of the wood-pigeons – with their precious ‘Take two cows, David!’ – the distant buzz of his gardener’s lawn-mower, the splash of a water-rat, shadows lengthening out from the poplars and the willow trees, the scent of grass and of elder flowers bright along the banks, and the slow drift of the white river clouds – peaceful – very peaceful; and something of Nature’s calm entered his soul, so that the disappearance of his float recalled him to reality with a jerk.