Yet, to an understanding eye, there was something noble and knightlike about the man; the ruggedness seemed blended with a certain fine simplicity, and even the old-fashioned tricks of manner and speech, by removing him from the commonplace mode of the hour, served to stimulate an effort to get at the man’s real character. Certainly no _poseur_—a direct, straightforward creature. On reflection one might perhaps guess that a young romantic girl, whose imagination had been fired by the splendour of his fighting life, his deeds of daring, and so forth, could quite conceivably be cajoled into giving her untried heart to him.
“One more question, Cynthia.” The conversation had languished while the General puffed at his second cigarette. “How’s the music? Have you been assiduous in your practice?”
Mr. Ridsdale was conscious of an irksome constraint. Two are company and three are none. Deciding to leave the husband and wife together, he pushed back his chair and got up.
“No, no,” he said. “Sit ye down, my dear fellow.” Then to his wife: “If the headache isn’t too bad, play something this evening. Run over your latest studies. Ridsdale and I will follow you directly.”
Cynthia Beckford rose obediently and turned towards the drawing-room door. Her husband reached the door before Mr. Ridsdale could get to it, and he held it open for her, bowing low as she passed out.
“There!” He had switched on the light in the other room, and he stood in the doorway watching her. “Now delight our ears with your deft touch.”
Lady Beckford seated herself at the piano and began to play a plaintive and dreamy prelude by Bach.
“Beautiful! Your hand has not lost its cunning. Now go on playing—and don’t think me ungallant if for a few minutes I close the door. A word or two with Ridsdale—on business. But we shall hear you, even through the door.” Then he gently, and as if regretfully, shut the drawing-room door and came back to the table.
“Ridsdale”—and there was an apologetic tone in the General’s lowered voice—“that wasn’t quite honest of me. A ruse! I asked her to play the piano because I didn’t want her to disturb us—and I didn’t want her to hear what we were saying.”
“Oh, really?” Ridsdale smiled, and glanced at the closed door.