Mr Vane's house overlooked Regent's Park, and formed the corner house
of a white terrace boasting Grecian pillars and a railed-in stretch of
grass in front of the windows. The rooms were large and handsome, and
of that severe, box-like outline which are the despair of the modern
upholsterer. The drawing-room boasted half a dozen windows, four in
front, and two at the side, and as regards furnishings was a curious
graft of modern art upon an Early Victoria stock. Logically the
combination was an anachronism; in effect it was charming and
harmonious, for the changes had been made with the utmost caution, in
consideration of the feelings of the head of the household.
Mr Vane's argument was that he preferred solid old-fashioned furniture
to modern gimcracks, and had no wish to conform to artistic fads, and
his daughters dutifully agreed, and--disobeyed! Their mode of procedure
was to withdraw one article at a time, and to wait until the parental
eye had become accustomed to the gap before venturing on a second
confiscation. On the rare occasions when the abduction was discovered,
it was easy to fall back upon the well-worn domestic justification, "Oh,
that's been gone a long time!" when, in justice to one's own power of
observation, the matter must be allowed to drop.
The eldest daughter of the household had married five years before the
date at which this narrative opens, and during that period had enjoyed
the happiness of a true and enduring devotion, and the troubles
inseparable from a constant financial struggle, ending with bankruptcy,
and a retreat from a tastefully furnished villa at Surbiton to a dreary
lodging in Oxford Terrace. Poor Edith had lost much of her beauty and
light-hearted gaiety as a result of anxiety and the constant care of two
delicate children; but never in the blackest moment of her trouble had
she wished herself unwed, or been willing to change places with any
woman who had not the felicity of being John Martin's wife.
Trouble had drawn Jack and herself more closely together; she was in
arms in a passion of indignation against that world which judged a man
by the standpoint of success or failure, and lay in readiness to heave
another stone at the fallen. At nightfall she watched for his coming to
judge of the day's doings by the expression of his face, before it lit
up with the dear welcoming smile. At sight of the weary lines, strength
came to her, as though she could move mountains on his behalf. As they
sat together on the horsehair sofa, his tired head resting on her
shoulder, the strain and the burden fell from them both, and they knew
themselves millionaires of blessings.