Read Online What Maisie Knew by Henry James - Free Book Online
Authors: Henry James
Tags: Fiction
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up, to the child's regret, as if he were going. "Oh I
dare say we should be all right!"
Mrs. Beale once more gathered in her little charge, holding her close
and looking thoughtfully over her head at their visitor. "It's so
charming—for a man of your type—to have wanted her so much!"
"What do you know about my type?" Sir Claude laughed. "Whatever it may
be I dare say it deceives you. The truth about me is simply that I'm the
most unappreciated of—what do you call the fellows?—'family-men.' Yes,
I'm a family-man; upon my honour I am!"
"Then why on earth," cried Mrs. Beale, "didn't you marry a
family-woman?"
Sir Claude looked at her hard. "YOU know who one marries, I think.
Besides, there ARE no family-women—hanged if there are! None of them
want any children—hanged if they do!"
His account of the matter was most interesting, and Maisie, as if it
were of bad omen for her, stared at the picture in some dismay. At the
same time she felt, through encircling arms, her protectress hesitate.
"You do come out with things! But you mean her ladyship doesn't want
any—really?"
"Won't hear of them—simply. But she can't help the one she HAS got."
And with this Sir Claude's eyes rested on the little girl in a way that
seemed to her to mask her mother's attitude with the consciousness of
his own. "She must make the best of her, don't you see? If only for the
look of the thing, don't you know? one wants one's wife to take the
proper line about her child."
"Oh I know what one wants!" Mrs. Beale cried with a competence that
evidently impressed her interlocutor.
"Well, if you keep HIM up—and I dare say you've had worry enough—why
shouldn't I keep Ida? What's sauce for the goose is sauce for the
gander—or the other way round, don't you know? I mean to see the thing
through."
Mrs. Beale, for a minute, still with her eyes on him as he leaned upon
the chimneypiece, appeared to turn this over. "You're just a wonder of
kindness—that's what you are!" she said at last. "A lady's expected
to have natural feelings. But YOUR horrible sex—! Isn't it a horrible
sex, little love?" she demanded with her cheek upon her stepdaughter's.
"Oh I like gentlemen best," Maisie lucidly replied.
The words were taken up merrily. "That's a good one for YOU!" Sir Claude
exclaimed to Mrs. Beale.
"No," said that lady: "I've only to remember the women she sees at her
mother's."
"Ah they're very nice now," Sir Claude returned.
"What do you call 'nice'?"
"Well, they're all right."
"That doesn't answer me," said Mrs. Beale; "but I dare say you do take
care of them. That makes you more of an angel to want this job too." And
she playfully whacked her smaller companion.
"I'm not an angel—I'm an old grandmother," Sir Claude declared. "I like
babies—I always did. If we go to smash I shall look for a place as
responsible nurse."
Maisie, in her charmed mood, drank in an imputation on her years which
at another moment might have been bitter; but the charm was sensibly
interrupted by Mrs. Beale's screwing her round and gazing fondly into
her eyes, "You're willing to leave me, you wretch?"
The little girl deliberated; even this consecrated tie had become as a
cord she must suddenly snap. But she snapped it very gently. "Isn't it
my turn for mamma?"
"You're a horrible little hypocrite! The less, I think, now said about
'turns' the better," Mrs. Beale made answer. "
I
know whose turn it is.
You've not such a passion for your mother!"
"I say, I say: DO look out!" Sir Claude quite amiably protested.
"There's nothing she hasn't heard. But it doesn't matter—it hasn't
spoiled her. If you knew what it costs me to part with you!" she pursued
to Maisie.
Sir Claude watched her as she charmingly clung to the child. "I'm so
glad you really care for her. That's so much to the good."
Mrs. Beale slowly got up, still with her hands on Maisie, but emitting a
soft exhalation. "Well, if you're glad, that may help us; for I assure
you that I shall never
dare say we should be all right!"
Mrs. Beale once more gathered in her little charge, holding her close
and looking thoughtfully over her head at their visitor. "It's so
charming—for a man of your type—to have wanted her so much!"
"What do you know about my type?" Sir Claude laughed. "Whatever it may
be I dare say it deceives you. The truth about me is simply that I'm the
most unappreciated of—what do you call the fellows?—'family-men.' Yes,
I'm a family-man; upon my honour I am!"
"Then why on earth," cried Mrs. Beale, "didn't you marry a
family-woman?"
Sir Claude looked at her hard. "YOU know who one marries, I think.
Besides, there ARE no family-women—hanged if there are! None of them
want any children—hanged if they do!"
His account of the matter was most interesting, and Maisie, as if it
were of bad omen for her, stared at the picture in some dismay. At the
same time she felt, through encircling arms, her protectress hesitate.
"You do come out with things! But you mean her ladyship doesn't want
any—really?"
"Won't hear of them—simply. But she can't help the one she HAS got."
And with this Sir Claude's eyes rested on the little girl in a way that
seemed to her to mask her mother's attitude with the consciousness of
his own. "She must make the best of her, don't you see? If only for the
look of the thing, don't you know? one wants one's wife to take the
proper line about her child."
"Oh I know what one wants!" Mrs. Beale cried with a competence that
evidently impressed her interlocutor.
"Well, if you keep HIM up—and I dare say you've had worry enough—why
shouldn't I keep Ida? What's sauce for the goose is sauce for the
gander—or the other way round, don't you know? I mean to see the thing
through."
Mrs. Beale, for a minute, still with her eyes on him as he leaned upon
the chimneypiece, appeared to turn this over. "You're just a wonder of
kindness—that's what you are!" she said at last. "A lady's expected
to have natural feelings. But YOUR horrible sex—! Isn't it a horrible
sex, little love?" she demanded with her cheek upon her stepdaughter's.
"Oh I like gentlemen best," Maisie lucidly replied.
The words were taken up merrily. "That's a good one for YOU!" Sir Claude
exclaimed to Mrs. Beale.
"No," said that lady: "I've only to remember the women she sees at her
mother's."
"Ah they're very nice now," Sir Claude returned.
"What do you call 'nice'?"
"Well, they're all right."
"That doesn't answer me," said Mrs. Beale; "but I dare say you do take
care of them. That makes you more of an angel to want this job too." And
she playfully whacked her smaller companion.
"I'm not an angel—I'm an old grandmother," Sir Claude declared. "I like
babies—I always did. If we go to smash I shall look for a place as
responsible nurse."
Maisie, in her charmed mood, drank in an imputation on her years which
at another moment might have been bitter; but the charm was sensibly
interrupted by Mrs. Beale's screwing her round and gazing fondly into
her eyes, "You're willing to leave me, you wretch?"
The little girl deliberated; even this consecrated tie had become as a
cord she must suddenly snap. But she snapped it very gently. "Isn't it
my turn for mamma?"
"You're a horrible little hypocrite! The less, I think, now said about
'turns' the better," Mrs. Beale made answer. "
I
know whose turn it is.
You've not such a passion for your mother!"
"I say, I say: DO look out!" Sir Claude quite amiably protested.
"There's nothing she hasn't heard. But it doesn't matter—it hasn't
spoiled her. If you knew what it costs me to part with you!" she pursued
to Maisie.
Sir Claude watched her as she charmingly clung to the child. "I'm so
glad you really care for her. That's so much to the good."
Mrs. Beale slowly got up, still with her hands on Maisie, but emitting a
soft exhalation. "Well, if you're glad, that may help us; for I assure
you that I shall never
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