There were of course difficulties in the way of persuading Miss Alicia that her duty lay in the direction of spending mornings in the most sumptuous of Bond Street shops, ordering for herself an entire wardrobe on a basis of unlimited resources.Tembarom was called upon to employ the most adroitly subtle reasoning, entirely founded on his "claim" and her affectionate willingness to give him pleasure.
He really made love to her in the way a joyful young fellow can make love to his mother or his nicest aunt.He made her feel that she counted for so much in his scheme of enjoyment that to do as he asked would be to add a glow to it.
"And they won't spoil you," he said."The Mellish woman that's the boss has promised that.I wouldn't have you spoiled for a farm," he added heartily.
And he spoke the truth.If he had been told that he was cherishing her type as though it were a priceless bit of old Saxe, he would have stared blankly and made a jocular remark.But it was exactly this which he actually clung to and adored.He even had a second private interview with Mrs.Mellish, and asked her to "keep her as much like she was" as was possible.
Stimulated by the suppressed touch of artistic fervor, Mrs.Mellish guessed at something even before her client arrived; but the moment she entered the showroom all was revealed to her at once.The very hint of flush and tremor in Miss Alicia's manner was an assistance.
Surrounded by a small and extremely select court composed of Mrs.
Mellish and two low-voiced, deft-handed assistants, it was with a fine little effort that Miss Alicia restrained herself from exterior suggestion of her feeling that there was something almost impious in thinking of possessing the exquisite stuffs and shades displayed to her in flowing beauty on every side.Such linens and batistes and laces, such delicate, faint grays and lavenders and soft-falling blacks! If she had been capable of approaching the thought, such luxury might even have hinted at guilty splendor.
Mrs.Mellish became possessed of an "idea" To create the costume of an exquisite, early-Victorian old lady in a play done for the most fashionable and popular actor manager of the most "drawing-room" of West End theaters, where one saw royalty in the royal box, with bouquets on every side, the orchestra breaking off in the middle of a strain to play "God Save the Queen," and the audience standing up as the royal party came in -- that was her idea.She carried it out, steering Miss Alicia with finished tact through the shoals and rapids of her timidities.And the result was wonderful; color,--or, rather, shades, -- textures, and forms were made subservient by real genius.
Miss Alicia -- as she was turned out when the wardrobe was complete --might have been an elderly little duchess of sweet and modest good taste in the dress of forty years earlier.It took time, but some of the things were prepared as though by magic, and the night the first boxes were delivered at the hotel Miss Alicia, on going to bed, in kneeling down to her devotions prayed fervently that she might not be "led astray by fleshly desires," and that her gratitude might be acceptable, and not stained by a too great joy "in the things which corrupt."The very next day occurred Rose.She was the young person to whom Pearson was engaged, and it appeared that if Miss Alicia would make up her mind to oblige Mr.Temple Barholm by allowing the girl to come to her as lady's-maid, even if only temporarily, she would be doing a most kind and charitable thing.She was a very nice, well-behaved girl, and unfortunately she had felt herself forced to leave her place because her mistress's husband was not at all a nice man.He had shown himself so far from nice that Pearson had been most unhappy, and Rose had been compelled to give notice, though she had no other situation in prospect and her mother was dependent on her.This was without doubt not Mr.Temple Barholm's exact phrasing of the story, but it was what Miss Alicia gathered, and what moved her deeply.It was so cruel and so sad! That wicked man! That poor girl! She had never had a lady's-maid, and might be rather at a loss at first, but it was only like Mr.Temple Barholm's kind heart to suggest such a way of helping the girl and poor Pearson.
So occurred Rose, a pretty creature whose blue eyes suppressed grateful tears as she took Miss Alicia's instructions during their first interview.And Pearson arrived the same night, and, waiting upon Tembarom, stood before him, and with perfect respect, choked.
"Might I thank you, if you please, sir," he began, recovering himself--"might I thank you and say how grateful--Rose and me, sir--" and choked again.
"I told you it would be all right," answered Tembarom."It is all right.I wish I was fixed like you are, Pearson."When the Countess of Mallowe called, Rose had just dressed Miss Alicia for the afternoon in one of the most perfect of the evolutions of Mrs.
Mellish's idea.It was a definite creation, as even Lady Mallowe detected the moment her eyes fell upon it.Its hue was dull, soft gray, and how it managed to concede points and elude suggestions of modes interred, and yet remain what it did remain, and accord perfectly with the side ringlets and the lace cap of Mechlin, only dressmaking genius could have explained.The mere wearing of it gave Miss Alicia a support and courage which she could scarcely believe to be her own.When the cards of Lady Mallowe and Lady Joan Fayre were brought up to her, she was absolutely not really frightened; a little nervous for a moment, perhaps, but frightened, no.A few weeks of relief and ease, of cheery consideration, of perfectly good treatment and good food and good clothes, had begun a rebuilding of the actual cells of her.
Lady Mallowe entered alone.She was a handsome person, and astonishingly young when considered as the mother of a daughter of twenty-seven.She wore a white veil, and looked pink through it.She swept into the room, and shook hands with Miss Alicia with delicate warmth.