One of Our Conquerors - World eBook Library

George Meredith
‘Ten minutes,’ Mr. Buttermore said low, after obligingly
placing them on the chairs.
He went. They were alone with Mrs. Burman.
No voice came. They were unsure of being seen by the
floating grey of eyes patient to gaze from their vast distance.
Big drops fell from Nataly’s. Victor heard the French timepiece
on the mantel-shelf, where a familiar gilt Cupid swung
for the seconds: his own purchase. The time of day on the
clock was wrong; the Cupid swung.
Nataly’s mouth was taking breath of anguish at moments.
More than a minute of the terrible length of the period of
torture must have gone: two, if not three.
A quaver sounded. ‘You have come.’ The voice was articulate,
thinner than the telephonic, trans-Atlantic by deep-sea
cable.
Victor answered: ‘We have.’
Another minute must have gone in the silence. And when
we get to five minutes we are on the descent, rapidly counting
our way out of the house, into the fresh air, where we
were half an hour back, among those happy beasts in the
pleasant Gardens!
Mrs. Burman’s eyelids shut. ‘I said you would come.’
Victor started to the fire-screen. ‘Your sight requires protection.’
She dozed. ‘And Natalia Dreighton !’ she next said.
They were certainly now on the five minutes. Now for the
slide downward and outward! Nataly should never have been
allowed to come.
‘The white waistcoat!’ struck his ears.
‘Old customs with me, always!’ he responded. ‘The first of
April, always. White is a favourite. Pale blue, too. But I fear—
I hope you have not distressing nights? In my family we lay
great stress on the nights we pass. My cousins, the Miss
Duvidneys, go so far as to judge of the condition of health
by the nightly record.’
‘Your daughter was in their house.’
She knew everything!
‘Very fond of my daughter—the ladies,’ he remarked.
‘I wish her well.’
‘You are very kind.’
Mrs. Burman communed within or slept. ‘Victor, Natalia,
we will pray,’ she said.
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