The Heavenly Twins by Madame Sarah Grand

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His hands were another offence to her. They were fat and podgy, with short
pointed fingers, indicative of animalism and ill-nature, the opposite of
all that is refined and beautiful--truly of necessity an offence to her.

It was at first that she had overlooked him, but after a time, when she
began to know him better, the little, fat, funny man magnetized her
attention. She could not help gravely considering him wherever she met
him, and wondering about him--wondering about them both in fact. She
wondered, for one thing, why they were so fond of eating and drinking, her
own taste in those matters being of the simplest description.

"I never deny myself anything," said Mrs. Guthrie Brimston. And she looked
like it.

Evadne wondered also at their meanness, when she saw them saving money by
borrowing the carriages of people whom she had heard them class as
"Nothing but shopkeepers, you know. We shouldn't speak to them anywhere
else." And whom they ridiculed habitually for the mispronunciation of
words, and for accents unmistakably provincial.

What could Evadne have in common with these flippant people--scum
themselves, forever on the surface, incapable even of seeing beneath,
their every idea and motive a falsification of something divine in life or
thought? They did not even speak the same language. To their insidious
slang she opposed a smooth current of perfect English, which seemed to
reflect upon the inferior quality of their own expressions and led to
mutual embarrassment. Evadne meant every word she uttered, and was careful
to choose the one which should best express her meaning. Mrs. Guthrie
Brimston's meanings, on the other hand, told best when half concealed.
Another difficulty was, too, that Evadne's clear, decided speech had the
effect of exposing innuendo and insincerity, and making both "bad form,"
which, socially speaking, is a much more terrible stigma to bear than an
accusation of dishonesty, however well authenticated. And even their very
manner of expressing legitimate mirth was not the same, for Mrs. Guthrie
Brimston laughed aloud, while Evadne's laugh was soundless.

Evadne suffered when she found herself being toadied by these people. She
said nothing, however. They were Colonel Colquhoun's friends, and she felt
herself forced to be civil to them so long as he chose to bring them to
the house. And they were besides an evil out of which good came to her
quickly. For as soon as she understood their manners and their modes of
thought, she felt her heart fill with earnest self-congratulation: "If
these are the kind of people whom Colonel Colquhoun prefers," was her
mental ejaculation, "what an escape I have had! Thank Heaven, he is
nothing to me."

CHAPTER VII.

Society in Malta during the sunny winter is very much like the society of
a London season, only that it is more representative because there are
fewer specimens of each class, and those who do go out are like delegates
charged with a concentrated extract of the peculiarities and prejudices of
their own set. When Evadne arrived, at the beginning of the winter, the
rest of the party had already assembled. There were naval people,
military, commercial, landed gentry, clerical, royalty, and beer. The
principal representative of this latter interest was a lady whom Mrs.
Guthrie Brimston called the Queen of Beersheba because of her splendid
habiliments, and this is a fair specimen of Mrs. Guthrie Brimston's wit.

Evadne was received in silence, as it were, for abroad the question is not
generally "Who are you?" as at home, but "What are you like?" or "How much
can you do for us?" and people were waiting till she showed her colours.
She never did show any decided colours of the usual kind, however. She was
not "a beauty beyond doubt"--some people did not admire her in the least.
She was not "the same" or "nice" to everybody, for she had strong
objections to certain people, and showed that she had; and she was not "by
way of entertaining" at all, although she did "as much of that kind of
thing" as other ladies of her station. But yet, with all these negatives,
she made a distinct impression on the place as soon as she appeared. It
sounds paradoxical, but she was celebrated at once for her silence and for
what she had said. The weight of her occasional utterances told. And if it
were fair to call Mrs. Guthrie Brimston counsel for the prosecution,
Evadne might have been set up as counsel for the defence; for it so
happened that when she did speak in those early days it was usually in
defence of something or somebody--people, principles, absent friends,
_or_ enemies; anything unfairly attacked. Generally, when she said
anything cutting, it was so clearly incisive you hardly knew for a moment
where you were injured. She did it like the executioner of that Eastern
potentate who decapitated a criminal with such skill and with so sharp an
instrument that the latter did not know when he was executed and went on
talking, his head remaining _in situ_ until he sneezed. There was one
old gentleman, Lord Groome, whom she had disposed of several times in that
way without, however, being able to get rid of him quite, because his
stupidity was a hardy perennial which came up again all the fresher and
stronger for having been lopped. He was a degenerated, ridiculous-looking
old object, a man with the most touching confidence in his tailor, which
the latter invariably betrayed by never making him a garment that fitted
him. He had begun by admiring Evadne, and had endeavoured to pay his
senile court to her with fulsome flatteries in the manner approved of his
kind--but he ended by being afraid of her.

His first collision with Evadne was on the subject of "those low
Radicals," against whom he had been launching out in unmeasured terms.
"Why low, because Radical?" she asked. "I should have thought, among so
many, that some must be honest men, and nothing honest can be low."

"I tell you, my dear lady," he replied, his temper tried by her words, but
controlled by her appearance, "I tell you the Radicals are a low lot, the
whole of them."

"Ah! Then I suppose you know them all," she said, looking at him
thoughtfully.

The want of intelligence in the community at large was made painfully
apparent by the stories of her peculiar opinions which were freely
circulated and seldom suspected. The Queen of Beersheba declared that
Evadne approved of the frightful cruelties which the people inflicted on
the nobles during the Reign of Terror, that she had heard her say so
herself.

What Evadne did say was: "The revolutionary excesses were inevitable. They
came at the swing of the pendulum which the nobles themselves had set in
motion; and if you consider the sufferings that had been inflicted on the
people, and their long endurance of them, you will be more surprised to
think that, they kept their reason so long than that they should have lost
it at last. 'Pour la populace ce n'est jamais par envie d'attaquer qu'elle
se souleve, mais par impatience de souffrir.'"

But the French Revolution is an abstract subject of impersonal interest
compared with the Irish question at the present time; and the commotion
which was caused by the misrepresentation of Evadne's remarks about the
Reign of Terror was insignificant compared with what followed when her
feeling for Ireland had been misinterpreted. She gave out the text which
called forth the second series of imbecilities daring a dinner party at
her own house one night, her old friend, Lord Groome, supplying her with a
peg upon which to hang her conclusions, by making an intemperate attack
upon the Irish.

CHAPTER VIII.

Captain Belliot was not one of the guests at that dinner party of
Evadne's, but he happened to call on Mrs. Guthrie Brimston next day, and
finding her alone, had tea with her _tete-a-tete_; and of course she
entertained him with her own version of what had occurred the night
before.

"The dinner itself was very good," she said. "All their dinners are, you
know. But Mrs. Colquhoun was "--she raised her hands, and nodded her head--
"well, just _too_ awful!" she concluded.

"Indeed!" he observed, leaning back in his chair, crossing his legs, and
settling himself for a treat generally. "You surprise me, because she has
never struck me as being the kind of person who would set the Thames on
fire in any way."

Mrs. Guthrie Brimston smiled enigmatically: "Do you admire her very much?"
she asked with the utmost suavity.

"Well," he answered warily, "she is rather peculiar in appearance, don't
you know."

Mrs. Guthrie Brimston drew her own conclusions, not from the words, but
from the wariness, and proceeded: "It is not in appearance only that that
she is peculiar, then. She astonished us all last night, I can assure
you."

"How?" he asked, to fill up an artistic pause.

"By the things she said!" Mrs. Guthrie Brimston answered, with an
affectation of reserve.

"Now you do surprise me!" Captain Belliot declared. "Because I cannot
imagine her saying anything but 'How do you do?' and 'Good-bye,' 'Yes' and
'No,' 'Indeed!' 'Please,' 'Thank you,' and 'Do you think so?' On my
honour, those words are all I have ever heard her utter, and I have met
her as often as anybody on the island. Now, _I_ like a woman with
something in her," he concluded, ogling Mrs. Guthrie Brimston.

"Well, then, she must have been hibernating, or something, when she first
came out, for she has begun to talk now with a vengeance," Mrs. Guthrie
Brimston answered smartly.

"But what has she been saying?" he asked, with great curiosity.

"I simply cannot tell you!" she answered pointedly.

"So bad as that?" he said, raising his eyebrows.

"Yes. Things that _no_ woman should have said," she subjoined with
emphasis.

There was, of course, only one conclusion to be drawn from this, and it
would have been drawn at the club later in the day inevitably, even if
other ladies had not also declared that Mrs. Colquhoun had said such
dreadful things that they really could not repeat them. It is true that
some of the men of the party mentioned the matter in a different way, and
one, when asked what it was exactly that Mrs. Colquhoun had said, even
answered casually: "Oh, some rot about the Irish question!" But the
explanation made no impression, and was immediately forgotten. Captain
Belliot himself was so excited by the news that he hurried away from Mrs.
Guthrie Brimston as soon as he could possibly excuse himself without
giving offence, and went at once to call upon Evadne in order to inspect
her from this unexpected point of view.

He found her talking tranquilly to Mr. St. John, Edith, and Mrs. Beale;
and although he sat for half an hour, she never said a word of the
slightest significance. That, however, proved nothing either one way or
the other, and he left her with his confidence in Mrs. Guthrie Brimston's
insinuations quite unshaken, his theory being that the women whose minds
are in reality the most corrupt are as a rule very carefully guarded in
their conversation, although, of course, they always betray themselves
sooner or later by some such slip as that with which he credited
Evadne--an idea which he proceeded to expand at the club with great
effect.

Evadne's reputation was in danger after that, and she risked it still
further by acting in defiance of the public opinion of the island
generally, in order to do what she conceived to be an act of justice.

Mrs. Guthrie Brimston went to her one morning, brimming over with news.

"My husband has just received a letter from a friend of his in India,
Major Lopside, telling him to warn us all not to call on Mrs. Clarence,
who has just joined your regiment," she burst out. "I thought I ought to
let you know at once. She met her husband in India, Major Lopside says,
and it was a runaway match. But that is not all. For he says he knows for
a fact that they travelled together for three hundred miles down country,
sleeping at all the dak bungalows by the way, before they _were_
married!"

"Waiting until they came to some place where they could be married, I
suppose?" Evadne suggested.

Mrs. Guthrie Brimston laughed. "Taking a sort of trial trip, I should
say!" she ventured. "But it was very good of Major Lopside to let us know.
I should certainly have called if he hadn't."

"You make me feel sick--" Evadne began.

"I knew I should!" Mrs, Guthrie Brimston interposed triumphantly.

"Sick at heart," Evadne pursued, "to think of an Englishman being capable
of writing a letter for the express purpose of ruining a woman's
reputation."

Mrs. Brimston changed countenance. "We think it was awfully kind of Major
Lopside to let us know," she repeated, perking.

"Well, _I_ think," said Evadne, her slow utterance giving double
weight to each word--"_I_ think he must be an exceedingly low person
himself, and one probably whom Mrs. Clarence has had to snub. He could
only have been actuated by animus when he wrote that letter. One may be
quite sure that a man is never disinterested when he does a low thing."

"It was a private letter written for our private information," Mrs.
Guthrie Brimston asserted. She was ruffled considerably by this time.

"No, not written for your private information," Evadne rejoined, "or if it
were, you are making a strange use of it. I have no doubt, however, that
it was designed for the very purpose to which you are putting it--the
purpose of spoiling the Clarences' chance of happiness in a new place. And
it is precisely to the 'private' character of the document that I take
exception. If this Major Lopside has any accusation to bring against
Captain Clarence, he should have done it publicly, and not in this
underhand manner. He should have written to Colonel Colquhoun."

"Nonsense," said Mrs. Guthrie Brimston, her native rudeness getting the
better of her habitual caution at this provocation. "Major Lopside would
not be fool enough to report a man to his own chief. Why, he might get the
worst of it himself if there were an inquiry."

"Exactly," Evadne answered. "He thinks it safer to stab in the dark. Will
you kindly excuse me? I am very busy this morning, writing my letters for
the mail. But many thanks for letting me know about this malicious story."

There was nothing for it but to retire after this, which Mrs. Guthrie
Brimston did, discomfited, and with an uneasy feeling, which had been
growing upon her lately, that Evadne was not quite the nonentity for which
she had mistaken her.

Colonel Colquhoun had lunched at mess that day, and Evadne did not see him
until quite late, when she met him on the Barraca with the Guthrie
Brimstons.

It was the hour when the Barraca is thronged, and Evadne had gone with a
purpose, expecting to find him there.

He left the Guthrie Brimstons and joined her as soon as she appeared.

"I have been home to look for you," he said, "but I found that you had
gone out without an escort, no one knew where."

"I have been making calls," Evadne answered--"and making Mrs. Clarence's
acquaintance also. Oh, there she is, leaning against that arch with her
husband. Have you met her yet? Let me introduce you. She is charmingly
pretty, but very timid."

Colonel Colquhoun's brow contracted.

"I thought Mrs. Guthrie Brimston had warned you--"

"_Warned_ me?" Evadne quietly interposed. "Mrs. Guthrie Brimston
brought me a scandalous story which had the effect of making me call on
Mrs. Clarence at once. I suppose you have seen this precious Major
Lopside's letter?"

"Yes," he answered. "And I am sorry you called without consulting me. You
really ought to have consulted me. It will make it doubly awkward for you,
having called. But we'll rush the fellow. I'll make him send in his papers
at once."

"Why is it awkward for me--what is awkward for me?" Evadne asked.

"Why, having a lady in the regiment you can't know, to begin with, and
having to cut her after calling upon her," he answered. "If you would only
condescend to consult me occasionally I could save you from this kind of
thing."

"But why may I not countenance Mrs. Clarence?"

"You cannot countenance a woman there is a story about," he responded
decidedly.

"But where is the proof of the story?" she asked,

Colonel Colquhoun reflected: "A man wouldn't write a letter of that kind
without some grounds for it," he said.

"We must find out what the exact grounds were," said Evadne.

"Well, you see none of the other ladies are speaking to her," Colonel
Colquhoun observed, with the air of one whose argument is unanswerable.

"They are sheep," said Evadne, "but they can be led aright as well as
astray, I suppose. We'll see, at all events. But don't let me keep you
from your friends. I want to speak to Mrs. Malcomson."

There was a quiet sense of power about Evadne when she chose to act which
checked opposition at the outset, and put an end to argument. Colonel
Colquhoun looked disheartened, but like a gentleman he acted at once on
the hint to go. He did not rejoin the Guthrie Brimstons, however, but sat
alone under one of the arches of the Barraca, turning his back on the
entrancing view of the Grand Harbour, a jewel of beauty, set in silence.

Colonel Colquhoun was watching. He saw Mrs. Clarence turn from the strange
Christian women who eyed her coldly, and lean over the parapet; he saw the
influence of the scene upon her mind in the sweet and tranquil expression
which gradually replaced the half-pained, half-puzzled look her face had
been wearing. He saw her husband standing beside her, but with his back to
the parapet, looking at the people gloomily and with resentment, but also
half-puzzled, perceiving that his wife was being slighted, and wondering
why.

Colonel Colquhoun saw Mrs. Guthrie Brimston also, going from one group to
another with the peculiar ducking-forward gait of a high-hipped,
high-shouldered woman, followed by her little fat "Bobbie," smiling
herself, and met with smiles which were followed by noisy laughter; and he
noticed, too, that invariably the eyes of those she addressed turned upon
Mrs. Clarence, and their faces grew hard and unfriendly; and not one
person to whom she spoke looked the happier or the better for the
attention when she left them. Colonel Colquhoun, with a set countenance,
slowly curled his blond moustache. Only his eyes, moved, following Mrs.
Guthrie Brimston for a while, and then returning to Evadne. She was
speaking to Mrs. Malcomson, and the latter looked, as she listened, at
Mrs. Guthrie Brimston. Then Evadne took her arm, and the two sauntered
over to Mrs. Beale--an important person, who always adopted the last
charitable opinion she heard expressed positively, and acted upon it.

It was Mrs. Malcomson who spoke to her, and the effect of what she said
was instantaneous, for the old lady bridled visibly, and then set out,
accompanied by Edith, with the obvious intention of heading the relief
party herself that very minute. She stationed herself beside Mrs.
Clarence, and stood, patting the poor girl's hand with motherly tenderness;
smiling at her, and saying conventional nothings in a most cordial
manner.

Colonel Colquhoun had watched these proceedings, understanding them
perfectly, but remaining impassive as at first. And Mrs. Guthrie Brimston
had also seen signs of the re-action the moment it set in, and shown her
astonishment. She was not accustomed to be checked in full career when it
pleased her to be down upon another woman, and she didn't quite know what
to do. She looked first at Colonel Colquhoun, inviting him to rejoin her,
but he ignored the glance; and she therefore found herself obliged either
to give him up or to go to him. She decided to go to him, and set out,
attended by her own "Bobbie." By the time she had reached him, however,
the last act of the little play had begun. Evadne was standing apart with
Captain Clarence, looking up at him and speaking--with her usual
unimpassioned calm, to judge by the expression of her face, but Mrs.
Guthrie Brimston had begun to realize that when Evadne did speak it was to
some purpose, and she watched now and awaited the event in evident
trepidation.

"She's not telling him! She never would dare to!" slipped from her
unawares.

"They are coming this way," Colonel Colquhoun observed significantly.

"I shall go!" cried Mrs, Guthrie Brimston. "Come, Bobbie!"

It was too late, however; they were surrounded,

"Be good enough to remain a moment," Captain Clarence exclaimed
authoritatively. Then turning to Colonel Colquhoun, he said; "I understand
that these people have in their possession a letter containing a foul
slander against my wife and myself, and that they have been using it to
injure us in the estimation of everybody here. If it be possible, sir, I
should like to have an official inquiry instituted into the circumstances
of my marriage at once."

"Very well, Captain Clarence," Colonel Colquhoun answered ceremoniously.

"I'll apologise," Major Guthrie Brimston gasped.

But Captain Clarence turned on his heel, and walked back to his wife as if
he had not heard.

How the inquiry was conducted was not made public. But when it was
_said_ that the Clarences had been cleared, and _seen_ that the
Guthrie Brimstons had not suffered, society declared it to have been a
case of six of one and half-a-dozen of the other, which left matters
exactly where they were before. Those who chose to believe in the calumny
continued to do so, and _vice versa_, the only difference being that
Evadne's generous action in the matter brought blame upon herself from one
set, and also--what was worse--brought her into a kind of vogue with
another which would have caused her to rage had she understood it. For the
story that she had "said things which no woman could repeat," added to the
fact that she was seen everywhere with a lady whose reputation had been
attacked, made men of a certain class feel a sudden interest in her.
"Birds of a feather," they maintained; then spoke of her slightingly in
public places, and sent her bouquets innumerable.

Her next decided action, however, put an effectual stop to this nuisance.

CHAPTER IX.

Colonel Colquhoun came to Evadne one day, and asked her if she would not
go out.

She put down her work, rose at once, smiling, and declared that she should
be delighted.

There had been a big regimental guest night the day before, and Colonel
Colquhoun had dined at mess, and was consequently irritable. Acquiescence
is as provoking as opposition to a man in that mood, and he chose to take
offence at Evadne's evident anxiety to please him.

"She makes quite a business of being agreeable to me," he' reflected while
he was waiting for her to put her hat on. "She requires me to be on my
good behaviour as if I were a school-boy out for a half-holiday, and
thinks it her duty to entertain me by way of reward, I suppose."

And thereupon he set himself determinedly against being entertained, and
accordingly, when Evadne rejoined him and made some cheerful remark, he
responded to it with a sullen grunt which did small credit to his manners
either as a man or a gentleman, and naturally checked the endeavour for
the moment so far as she was concerned.

As he did not seem inclined to converse, she showed her respect for his
mood by being silent herself. But this was too much for him. He stood it
as long as he could, and then he burst out; "Do you never talk?"

"I don't know!" she said, surprised. "Do you like talkative women?"

"I like a woman to have something to say for herself."

While Evadne was trying in her slow way to see precisely what he meant by
this little outbreak, they met one of the officers of the regiment
escorting a very showy young woman, and as everybody in Malta knows
everybody else in society, and this was a stranger, Evadne asked--more,
however, to oblige Colonel Colquhoun by making a remark than because she
felt the slightest curiosity on the subject; "Who is that with Mr.
Finchley? A new arrival, I suppose?"

"Oh, only a girl he brought out from England with him," Colonel Colquhoun
answered coarsely, staring hard at the girl as he spoke, and forgetting
himself for once in his extreme irritability. "He ought not to bring her
here, though," he added carelessly.

Mr. Finchley had passed them, hanging his head, and pretending not to see
them. Evadne flushed crimson.

"Do you mean that he brought out a girl he is not married to, and is
living with her here?" she asked.

"That is the position exactly," Colonel Colquhoun rejoined, "and I'll see
him in the orderly room to-morrow and interview him on the subject. He has
no business to parade her publicly where the other fellows' wives may meet
her; and I'll not have it."

Evadne said no more. But there was a ball that evening, and during an
interval between the dances, when she was standing beside Colonel
Colquhoun and several ladies in a prominent position and much observed,
for it was just at the time when she was at the height of her unenviable
vogue--Mr. Finchley came op and asked her to dance.