Ivy Compton-Burnett - Men and Wives

“I hope, Sir Godfrey,” said Dominic, “that that is your eldest son’s ideal in his life-companion.”

“Well, haven’t you come at all to see me, Camilla?” said Godfrey, his eyes undetained by Dominic. “Haven’t you a word for your future father-in-law? Don’t you think I am any man at all beside Matthew?”

“Dear Sir Godfrey, I have come with the express purpose of feasting my eyes on you. I had to pass from alliance to alliance until I came to the one that provided me with you.”

“Father, let Camilla begin her luncheon. She is behind already,” said Matthew.

“Mother was convinced that being so late would destroy my character for ever. Being divorced was nothing to it. The second is less inconvenient for other people. It provides them with an excitement instead of a trial.”

“We must call that a cynical speech,” said Dominic, in a tone that seemed expressionless through doubt how to meet the speaker.

“I am known to be a cynic,” said Camilla.

“Quite wrongly then,” said Gregory.

“But it is wonderful to have brought that off,” said Jermyn.

“Jermyn, am I to understand,” said Dominic, “that it is your aim and object to be regarded as a cynic?”

“I am a very ordinary young man,” said Jermyn.

“Jermyn, you cannot expect us to subscribe to that.”

“No. Of course I should be aghast if you did.”

“Sir Godfrey, frankness is not a quality in which the modern generation is lacking.”

“I believe it is not. I am thankful to say I have found it is not,” said Godfrey. “My children keep nothing from their father.”

“You could not have a greater compliment,” said Dominic.

“I could not. I value my sons’ and daughter’s confidence above everything. If there is any little thing I can do for them, I count myself already repaid.”

“Matthew, have you yet discovered a house in which to embark upon your married life?” said Dominic, as if Godfrey’s words set up this train of thought. “I apprehend that the scientific success which has in a measure attended your pursuit of it, disposes of the question of your extending your sphere. I do not use the qualifying words in any carping spirit. I know how seldom a quarry is sighted in your chosen field.”

“We have been looking at some houses in the town,” said Matthew. “My father is going to take one for me near my work.”

“It strikes me, Matthew, as no doubt it strikes you, that you have a very generous parent.”

“Now, now, I won’t have a word of it, Spong!” said Godfrey, holding up his hand. “I declare, when I gradually realise how much there is in this literary and scientific work, I find myself standing hat in hand before my sons.”

“That is not an attitude, Sir Godfrey, that was readily adopted by our own parents. Matthew”—Dominic seemed gravely to recollect himself—“I have not adequately expressed to you my congratulations upon this imminent change in your life. Married happiness is the highest that man is supposed to have.”

“He is not supposed to have the other kind, is he?” said Camilla.

Dominic cast a fleeting glance at Camilla, and continued in the same tone. “I have myself been very happy. I can do no more than hope that your future holds for you what my past holds for me.” Another glance at Camilla showed him struck by the unlikelihood.

“Thanks very much,” said Matthew.

“I gather, Sir Godfrey,” said Dominic, subsiding into amusement, “that the youth of the day has a tendency to be what we may call laconic.”

“Mr. Spong grudges me a roof over my head,” said Camilla. “He thinks I should be what I am, a woman of the streets. He should have more sympathy with his fallen sisters. I try to look on him as a man and a brother, and I have seen the reverse of a brotherly light in his eye. I believe I have seen it in more senses than one.”

Dominic turned to Bellamy as if he had not heard these words, but with a faint air of sympathy arising from them.

“I understand, Mr. Bellamy, that you are inaugurating some dramatic proceedings on behalf of the restoration of your church. Ecclesiastical architecture is a subject which I have much at heart. May I congratulate you on the expectation of a sum adequate to your projects?”

“Yes, I think you may. My future father-in-law is adopting another satisfying relationship, and becoming fairy godmother. He is financing the affair, so that all the takings will be profit. And we are putting the sewing ladies on garments for the play instead of for the poor. So all things and people work together for good.”

“It is for the same purpose indirectly,” said Dominic in a rather wavering tone.

“Very indirectly,” said Camilla. “The poor can’t be clothed in ecclesiastical architecture.”

“Mrs. Bellamy, it makes a patch of beauty in their lives.”

“But not a patch of any kind on their garments.”

Dominic fell into open mirth, and exchanged a glance with Godfrey, or rather conferred a glance upon him.

“I will be going, Haslam,” said Bellamy. “And I won’t come back to tea. I know you are expecting friends. If my fair parishioners find me a too familiar presence, my semblance of usefulness will be gone. Tell them from me that stitching has never to be done so thoroughly for fancy dress, so that they should be making speed.”

“Sir Godfrey, am I to be the one burdened with that message?” said Dominic.

“Oh, come in to tea, Spong, come in to tea,” said Godfrey, leaning back.

“Jermyn,” said Dominic, turning smoothly from Godfrey, as if his words of himself had been by the way, “I have been gratified to hear that our long interest in you is to be crowned with result, that in other words you are about to have a bound volume of poems to your name. It must be a great pleasure, Jermyn, to repay your father in this way for the patience and faith with which he has awaited this fulfilment. May I offer you my sincere congratulations and my hopes that this book may shortly be followed by many others?”

“Thank you very much. The congratulations are perhaps premature, as you have not read the book.”

“Many others! Shortly followed!” said Gregory.

“No, Jermyn,” said Dominic, shaking his head, “I do not profess to be a judge of the poetic output. I am prepared to accept the verdict of the public, or at any rate of the critics of your work, which I make no doubt will be in your favour. I have a great belief in the uses of poetry in the amelioration of life; and whatever some may think of it as an aim for manhood, it is my own conviction that the ministers to our leisure are as deserving of gratitude as those who strive for us in sterner vein. I shall be happy to receive a copy, if you can conveniently spare one, and happier still if you will write me a friendly inscription on the fly-leaf.”

“Thank you very much. But it won’t be out for a couple of months,” said Jermyn.

“Not for a couple of months? Is there some delay?”

“No. It will come out in about the usual time.”

“It strikes me, Sir Godfrey, that the accusation of dilatoriness, usually brought against us lawyers, might with advantage, or at any rate with justice, be transferred to publishers. Jermyn will be well on the way with his second book before the world has a chance to acclaim his first.”

“Oh, there is a lot behind it, Spong,” said Godfrey.

“Will you make a good profit out of the book, Jermyn?” Camilla asked in innocence.

“No, none at all. Father is bringing it out for me this time. It is often done with the first book.”

“Jermyn, is that so?” said Dominic.

“I believe so, especially in the case of poetry,” said Jermyn.

“Then expense is to be involved, in addition to the time sacrificed?” said Dominic.