My rooms and my mother's are taken till then; all my arrangements are made accordingly.Then, I will depart; not before.""You are not frank," said Rowland."Your real reason for staying has nothing to do with your rooms."Roderick's face betrayed neither embarrassment nor resentment.
"If I 'm not frank, it 's for the first time in my life.
Since you know so much about my real reason, let me hear it!
No, stop!" he suddenly added, "I won't trouble you.
You are right, I have a motive.On the twenty-fourth of June Miss Light is to be married.I take an immense interest in all that concerns her, and I wish to be present at her wedding.""But you said the other day at Saint Peter's that it was by no means certain her marriage would take place.""Apparently I was wrong: the invitations, I am told, are going out."Rowland felt that it would be utterly vain to remonstrate, and that the only thing for him was to make the best terms possible.
"If I offer no further opposition to your waiting for Miss Light's marriage,"he said, "will you promise, meanwhile and afterwards, for a certain period, to defer to my judgment--to say nothing that may be a cause of suffering to Miss Garland?""For a certain period? What period?" Roderick demanded.
"Ah, don't drive so close a bargain! Don't you understand that I have taken you away from her, that I suffer in every nerve in consequence, and that I must do what I can to restore you?""Do what you can, then," said Roderick gravely, putting out his hand.
"Do what you can!" His tone and his hand-shake seemed to constitute a promise, and upon this they parted.
Roderick's bust of his mother, whether or no it was a discharge of what he called the filial debt, was at least a most admirable production.
Rowland, at the time it was finished, met Gloriani one evening, and this unscrupulous genius immediately began to ask questions about it.
"I am told our high-flying friend has come down," he said.
"He has been doing a queer little old woman.""A queer little old woman!" Rowland exclaimed."My dear sir, she is Hudson's mother.""All the more reason for her being queer! It is a bust for terra-cotta, eh?""By no means; it is for marble."
"That 's a pity.It was described to me as a charming piece of quaintness:
a little demure, thin-lipped old lady, with her head on one side, and the prettiest wrinkles in the world--a sort of fairy godmother.""Go and see it, and judge for yourself," said Rowland.
"No, I see I shall be disappointed.It 's quite the other thing, the sort of thing they put into the campo-santos.I wish that boy would listen to me an hour!"But a day or two later Rowland met him again in the street, and, as they were near, proposed they should adjourn to Roderick's studio.
He consented, and on entering they found the young master.
Roderick's demeanor to Gloriani was never conciliatory, and on this occasion supreme indifference was apparently all he had to offer.But Gloriani, like a genuine connoisseur, cared nothing for his manners; he cared only for his skill.
In the bust of Mrs.Hudson there was something almost touching;it was an exquisite example of a ruling sense of beauty.
The poor lady's small, neat, timorous face had certainly no great character, but Roderick had reproduced its sweetness, its mildness, its minuteness, its still maternal passion, with the most unerring art.It was perfectly unflattered, and yet admirably tender; it was the poetry of fidelity.
Gloriani stood looking at it a long time most intently.
Roderick wandered away into the neighboring room.
"I give it up!" said the sculptor at last."I don't understand it.""But you like it?" said Rowland.
"Like it? It 's a pearl of pearls.Tell me this," he added:
"is he very fond of his mother; is he a very good son?"And he gave Rowland a sharp look.
"Why, she adores him," said Rowland, smiling.
"That 's not an answer! But it 's none of my business.
Only if I, in his place, being suspected of having--what shall I call it?--a cold heart, managed to do that piece of work, oh, oh! I should be called a pretty lot of names.
Charlatan, poseur, arrangeur! But he can do as he chooses!
My dear young man, I know you don't like me," he went on, as Roderick came back."It 's a pity; you are strong enough not to care about me at all.You are very strong.""Not at all," said Roderick curtly."I am very weak!""I told you last year that you would n't keep it up.
I was a great ass.You will!"
"I beg your pardon--I won't!" retorted Roderick.
"Though I 'm a great ass, all the same, eh? Well, call me what you will, so long as you turn out this sort of thing!
I don't suppose it makes any particular difference, but Ishould like to say now I believe in you."Roderick stood looking at him for a moment with a strange hardness in his face.It flushed slowly, and two glittering, angry tears filled his eyes.It was the first time Rowland had ever seen them there; he saw them but once again.Poor Gloriani, he was sure, had never in his life spoken with less of irony; but to Roderick there was evidently a sense of mockery in his profession of faith.
He turned away with a muttered, passionate imprecation.
Gloriani was accustomed to deal with complex problems, but this time he was hopelessly puzzled."What 's the matter with him?"he asked, simply.
Rowland gave a sad smile, and touched his forehead.
"Genius, I suppose."
Gloriani sent another parting, lingering look at the bust of Mrs.Hudson.
"Well, it 's deuced perfect, it 's deuced ******; I do believe in him!"he said."But I 'm glad I 'm not a genius.It makes," he added with a laugh, as he looked for Roderick to wave him good-by, and saw his back still turned, "it makes a more sociable studio."Rowland had purchased, as he supposed, temporary tranquillity for Mary Garland; but his own humor in these days was not especially peaceful.He was attempting, in a certain sense, to lead the ideal life, and he found it, at the least, not easy.