Overlooked

I said I supposed nearly everyone thought they were marrying the right person, and yet how strangely most marriages turned out.

"Nothing better than marriage has been invented, all the same," she said, "and if people marry when they are old enough…"

"To know better," I said.

"Yes, it doesn't then turn out so very badly as a rule."

I said that as things were at present Miss Brandon's life seemed to me completely wasted.

"So it is, but it might be worse. It might be a tragedy. Supposing she married someone who became fond of someone else."

"She would mind," I said.

"She would mind terribly."

I said I thought people always got what they wanted in the long run. If she wanted a marriage of a definite kind she would probably end by getting it.

Mrs. Summer agreed in the main, but she thought that although one often did get what one wanted in the long run, it often came either too late or not quite at the moment when one wanted it, or one found when one had got it that it was after all not quite what one had wanted.

"Then," I said, "you think it is no use wanting anything?"

"No use," she said, "no use whatever."

"You are a pessimist."

"I am old enough to have no illusions."

"But you want other people to have illusions?"

"I think there is such a thing as happiness in the world, and that when you see someone who might be happy, missing the chance of it, it's a pity. That's all."

Then I said:

"You want other people to want things."

"Other people? Yes," she said. "Quite dreadfully I want it."

At that moment Mrs. Lennox came up to us and said:

"I have won five hundred francs, and I had the courage to leave the Casino. I can't think what has happened to Jean. I have been looking for her the whole evening." I left them and went into the hotel.

CHAPTER VII

It was the morning after the conversation I had with Mrs. Summer that I received a message from Miss Brandon. She wanted to speak to me. Could I be, about five o'clock, at the end of the alley? I was punctual at the rendezvous.

"I wanted to have a talk," she said, "to-day, if possible, because to-morrow Aunt Netty has organized an expedition to the lakes, and the day after we are all going to the races, so I didn't know when I should see you again."

"But you are not going away yet, are you?" I asked.

No, they were not going away, they would very likely stay on till the end of July. Then there was an idea of Switzerland; or perhaps the Mozart festival at Munich, followed by a week at Bayreuth. Mr. Rudd was going to Bayreuth, and had convinced Mrs. Lennox that she was a Wagnerite.

"I thought you couldn't be going away yet – but one never knows, here people disappear so suddenly, and I wanted to see you so particularly and at once. You are going to finish your cure?"

I said my time limit was another fortnight. After that I was going back to my villa at Cadenabbia.

"Shall you come here next year?"

I said it depended on my doctor. I asked her her plans.

"I don't think I shall come back next year."

There was a slight note of suppressed exultation in her voice. I asked whether Mrs. Lennox was tired of Haréville.

"Aunt Netty loves it, better than ever. Mr. Rudd has promised her to come too."

There was a long pause.

"I can't bear it any longer," she said at last.

"Haréville?"

"Haréville and all of it – everything."

There was another long pause. She broke it.

"You talked to Mabel Summer yesterday?"

I said we had had a long talk.

"I'm sure you liked her?"

I said I had found her delightful.

"She's my oldest friend, although she's older than I am. Poor Mabel, she's had a very unhappy life."

I said one felt in her the sympathy that came from experience.

"Oh yes, she's so brave; she's wonderful."

I said I supposed she'd had great disappointments.

"More than that. Tragedies. One thing after another."

I asked whether she had any children.

"Her two little girls both died when they were babies. But it wasn't that. She'll tell you all about it, perhaps, some day."

I said I doubted whether we would ever meet again.