XINGU

By Edith Wharton

Copyright, 1916, By Charles Scribner's Sons

I

Mrs. Ballinger is one of the ladies who pursue Culture in bands, asthough it were dangerous to meet alone. To this end she had foundedthe Lunch Club, an association composed of herself and several otherindomitable huntresses of erudition. The Lunch Club, after three or fourwinters of lunching and debate, had acquired such local distinction thatthe entertainment of distinguished strangers became one of its acceptedfunctions; in recognition of which it duly extended to the celebrated"Osric Dane, " on the day of her arrival in Hillbridge, an invitation tobe present at the next meeting. 

The club was to meet at Mrs. Bellinger's. The other members, behindher back, were of one voice in deploring her unwillingness to cedeher rights in favor of Mrs. Plinth, whose house made a more impressivesetting for the entertainment of celebrities; while, as Mrs. Leveretobserved, there was always the picture-gallery to fall back on. 

Mrs. Plinth made no secret of sharing this view. She had always regardedit as one of her obligations to entertain the Lunch Club's distinguishedguests. Mrs. Plinth was almost as proud of her obligations as she wasof her picture-gallery; she was in fact fond of implying that the onepossession implied the other, and that only a woman of her wealthcould afford to live up to a standard as high as that which she had setherself. An all-round sense of duty, roughly adaptable to various ends, was, in her opinion, all that Providence exacted of the more humblystationed; but the power which had predestined Mrs. Plinth to keep afootman clearly intended her to maintain an equally specialized staff ofresponsibilities. It was the more to be regretted that Mrs. Ballinger, whose obligations to society were bounded by the narrow scope of twoparlour-maids, should have been so tenacious of the right to entertainOsric Dane. 

The question of that lady's reception had for a month past profoundlymoved the members of the Lunch Club. It was not that they feltthemselves unequal to the task, but that their sense of the opportunityplunged them into the agreeable uncertainty of the lady who weighs thealternatives of a well-stocked wardrobe. If such subsidiary members asMrs. Leveret were fluttered by the thought of exchanging ideas with theauthor of "The Wings of Death, " no forebodings disturbed the consciousadequacy of Mrs. Plinth, Mrs. Ballinger and Miss Van Vluyck. "The Wingsof Death" had, in fact, at Miss Van Vluyck's suggestion, been chosen asthe subject of discussion at the last club meeting, and each member hadthus been enabled to express her own opinion or to appropriate whateversounded well in the comments of the others. 

Mrs. Roby alone had abstained from profiting by the opportunity; but itwas now openly recognised that, as a member of the Lunch Club, Mrs. Robywas a failure. "It all comes, " as Miss Van Vluyck put it, "of acceptinga woman on a man's estimation. " Mrs. Roby, returning to Hillbridge froma prolonged sojourn in exotic lands--the other ladies no longer tookthe trouble to remember where--had been heralded by the distinguishedbiologist, Professor Foreland, as the most agreeable woman he had evermet; and the members of the Lunch Club, impressed by an encomiumthat carried the weight of a diploma, and rashly assuming that theProfessor's social sympathies would follow the line of his professionalbent, had seized the chance of annexing a biological member. Theirdisillusionment was complete. At Miss Van Vluyck's first off-handmention of the pterodactyl Mrs. Roby had confusedly murmured: "I know solittle about metres--" and after that painful betrayal of incompetenceshe had prudently withdrawn from farther participation in the mentalgymnastics of the club. 

"I suppose she flattered him, " Miss Van Vluyck summed up--"or else it'sthe way she does her hair. "

The dimensions of Miss Van Vluyck's dining-room having restricted themembership of the club to six, the nonconductiveness of one member wasa serious obstacle to the exchange of ideas, and some wonder had alreadybeen expressed that Mrs. Roby should care to live, as it were, on theintellectual bounty of the others. This feeling was increased by thediscovery that she had not yet read "The Wings of Death. " She ownedto having heard the name of Osric Dane; but that--incredible as itappeared--was the extent of her acquaintance with the celebratednovelist. The ladies could not conceal their surprise; but Mrs. Ballinger, whose pride in the club made her wish to put even Mrs. Robyin the best possible light, gently insinuated that, though she had nothad time to acquaint herself with "The Wings of Death, " she must atleast be familiar with its equally remarkable predecessor, "The SupremeInstant. "

Mrs. Roby wrinkled her sunny brows in a conscientious effort of memory, as a result of which she recalled that, oh, yes, she _had_ seen the bookat her brother's, when she was staying with him in Brazil, and had evencarried it off to read one day on a boating party; but they had allgot to shying things at each other in the boat, and the book had goneoverboard, so she had never had the chance--

The picture evoked by this anecdote did not increase Mrs. Roby's creditwith the club, and there was a painful pause, which was broken by Mrs. Plinth's remarking:

"I can understand that, with all your other pursuits, you should notfind much time for reading; but I should have thought you might at leasthave _got up_ 'The Wings of Death' before Osric Dane's arrival. "

Mrs. Roby took this rebuke good-humouredly. She had meant, she owned, to glance through the book; but she had been so absorbed in a novel ofTrollope's that--

"No one reads Trollope now, " Mrs. Ballinger interrupted. 

Mrs. Roby looked pained. "I'm only just beginning, " she confessed. 

"And does he interest you?" Mrs. Plinth enquired. 

"He amuses me. "

"Amusement, " said Mrs. Plinth, "is hardly what I look for in my choiceof books. "

"Oh, certainly, 'The Wings of Death' is not amusing, " ventured Mrs. Leveret, whose manner of putting forth an opinion was like that of anobliging salesman with a variety of other styles to submit if his firstselection does not suit. 

"Was it _meant_ to be?" enquired Mrs. Plinth, who was fond of askingquestions that she permitted no one but herself to answer. "Assuredlynot. "

"Assuredly not--that is what I was going to say, " assented Mrs. Leveret, hastily rolling up her opinion and reaching for another. "It was meantto--to elevate. "

Miss Van Vluyck adjusted her spectacles as though they were the blackcap of condemnation. "I hardly see, " she interposed, "how a book steepedin the bitterest pessimism can be said to elevate however much it mayinstruct. "

"I meant, of course, to instruct, " said Mrs. Leveret, flurried by theunexpected distinction between two terms which she had supposed to besynonymous. Mrs. Leveret's enjoyment of the Lunch Club was frequentlymarred by such surprises; and not knowing her own value to the otherladies as a mirror for their mental complacency she was sometimestroubled by a doubt of her worthiness to join in their debates. It wasonly the fact of having a dull sister who thought her clever that savedher, from a sense of hopeless inferiority. 

"Do they get married in the end?" Mrs. Roby interposed. 

"They--who?" the Lunch Club collectively exclaimed. 

"Why, the girl and man. It's a novel, isn't it? I always think that'sthe one thing that matters. If they're parted it spoils my dinner. "

Mrs. Plinth and Mrs. Ballinger exchanged scandalised glances, and thelatter said: "I should hardly advise you to read 'The Wings of Death'in that spirit. For my part, when there are so many books one _has_to read; I wonder how any one can find time for those that are merelyamusing. "

"The beautiful part of it, " Laura Glyde murmured, "is surely justthis--that no one can tell how 'The Wings of Death' ends. Osric Dane, overcome by the awful significance of her own meaning, has mercifullyveiled it--perhaps even from herself--as Apelles, in representing thesacrifice of Iphigenia, veiled the face or Agamemnon. "

"What's that? Is it poetry?" whispered Mrs. Leveret to Mrs. Plinth, who, disdaining a definite reply, said coldly: "You should look it up. I always make it a point to look things up. " Her tone added--"though Imight easily have it done for me by the footman. "

"I was about to say, " Miss Van Vluyck resumed, "that it must always be aquestion whether a book _can_ instruct unless it elevates. "

"Oh--" murmured Mrs. Leveret, now feeling herself hopelessly astray. 

"I don't know, " said Mrs. Ballinger, scenting in Miss Van Vluyck's tonea tendency to depreciate the coveted distinction of entertaining OsricDane; "I don't know that such a question can seriously be raised as to abook which has attracted more attention among thoughtful people than anynovel since 'Robert Elsmere. '"

"Oh, but don't you see, " exclaimed Laura Glyde, "that it's just thedark hopelessness of it all--the wonderful tone-scheme of black onblack--that makes it such an artistic achievement? It reminded me whenI read it of Prince Rupert's _manière noire_... The book is etched, notpainted, yet one feels the colour-values so intensely.... "

"Who is he?" Mrs. Leveret whispered to her neighbour. "Some one she'smet abroad?"

"The wonderful part of the book, " Mrs. Bellinger conceded, "is that itmay be looked at from so many points of view. I hear that as a study ofdeterminism Professor Lupton ranks it with 'The Data of Ethics. '"

"I'm told that Osric Dane spent ten years in preparatory studiesbefore beginning to write it, " said Mrs. Plinth. "She looks upeverything--verifies everything. It has always been my principle, asyou know. Nothing would induce me, now, to put aside a book before I'dfinished it, just because I can buy as many more as I want. "

"And what do _you_ think of 'The Wings of Death'?" Mrs. Roby abruptlyasked her. 

It was the kind of question that might be termed out of order, and theladies glanced at each other as though disclaiming any share in sucha breach of discipline. They all knew there was nothing Mrs. Plinth somuch disliked as being asked her opinion of a book. Books were writtento read; if one read them what more could be expected? To be questionedin detail regarding the contents of a volume seemed to her as great anoutrage as being searched for smuggled laces at the Custom House. Theclub had always respected this idiosyncrasy of Mrs. Plinth's. Suchopinions as she had were imposing and substantial: her mind, like herhouse, was furnished with monumental "pieces" that were not meant tobe disarranged; and it was one of the unwritten rules of the Lunch Clubthat, within her own province, each member's habits of thought should berespected. The meeting therefore closed with an increased sense, on thepart of the other ladies, of Mrs. Roby's hopeless unfitness to be one ofthem. 

II

Mrs. Leveret, on the eventful day, arrived early at Mrs. Ballinger's, her volume of Appropriate Allusions in her pocket. 

It always flustered Mrs. Leveret to be late at the Lunch Club: she likedto collect her thoughts and gather a hint, as the others assembled, ofthe turn the conversation was likely to take. To-day, however, shefelt herself completely at a loss; and even the familiar contact ofAppropriate Allusions, which stuck into her as she sat down, failed togive her any reassurance. It was an admirable little volume, compiledto meet all the social emergencies; so that, whether on the occasionof Anniversaries, joyful or melancholy (as the classification ran), of Banquets, social or municipal, or of Baptisms, Church of Englandor sectarian, its student need never be at a loss for a pertinentreference. Mrs. Leveret, though she had for years devoutly conned itspages, valued it, however, rather for its moral support than for itspractical services; for though in the privacy of her own room shecommanded an army of quotations, these invariably deserted her at thecritical moment, and the only phrase she retained--_Canst thou draw outleviathan with a hook_?--was one she had never yet found occasion toapply. 

To-day she felt that even the complete mastery of the volume wouldhardly have insured her self-possession; for she thought it probablethat, even if she _did_, in some miraculous way, remember an Allusion, it would be only to find that Osric Dane used a different volume (Mrs. Leveret was convinced that literary people always carried them), andwould consequently not recognise her quotations. 

Mrs. Leveret's sense of being adrift was intensified by the appearanceof Mrs. Ballinger's drawing-room. To a careless eye its aspect wasunchanged; but those acquainted with Mrs. Ballinger's way ofarranging her books would instantly have detected the marks of recentperturbation. Mrs. Ballinger's province, as a member of the Lunch Club, was the Book of the Day. On that, whatever it was, from a novel toa treatise on experimental psychology, she was confidently, authoritatively "up. " What became of last year's books, or last week'seven; what she did with the "subjects" she had previously professed withequal authority; no one had ever yet discovered. 'Her mind was an hotelwhere facts came and went like transient lodgers, without leaving theiraddress behind, and frequently without paying for their board. It wasMrs. Ballinger's boast that she was "abreast with the Thought of theDay, " and her pride that this advanced position should be expressed bythe books on her table. These volumes, frequently renewed, and almostalways damp from the press, bore names generally unfamiliar to Mrs. Leveret, and giving her, as she furtively scanned them, a dishearteningglimpse of new fields of knowledge to be breathlessly traversed in Mrs. Ballinger's wake. But to-day a number of maturer-looking volumes wereadroitly mingled with the _primeurs_ of the press--Karl Marx jostledProfessor Bergson, and the "Confessions of St. Augustine" lay besidethe last work on "Mendelism"; so that even to Mrs. Leveret's flutteredperceptions it was clear that Mrs. Ballinger didn't in the least knowwhat Osric Dane was likely to talk about, and had taken measures to beprepared for anything. Mrs. Leveret felt like a passenger on an oceansteamer who is told that there is no immediate danger, but that she hadbetter put on her life-belt. 

It was a relief to be roused from these forebodings by Miss Van Vluyck'sarrival. 

"Well, my dear, " the new-comer briskly asked her hostess, "what subjectsare we to discuss to-day?"

Mrs. Ballinger was furtively replacing a volume of Wordsworth by a copyof Verlaine. "I hardly know, " she said, somewhat nervously. "Perhaps wehad better leave that to circumstances. "

"Circumstances?" said Miss Van Vluyck drily. "That means, I suppose, that Laura Glyde will take the floor as usual, and we shall be delugedwith literature. "

Philanthropy and statistics were Miss Van Vluyck's province, and sheresented any tendency to divert their guest's attention from thesetopics. 

Mrs. Plinth at this moment appeared. 

"Literature?" she protested in a tone of remonstrance. "But this isperfectly unexpected. I understood we were to talk of Osric Dane'snovel. "

Mrs. Ballinger winced at the discrimination, but let it pass. "We canhardly make that our chief subject--at least not _too_ intentionally, "she suggested. "Of course we can let our talk _drift_ in that direction;but we ought to have some other topic as an introduction, and that iswhat I wanted to consult you about. The fact is, we know so littleof Osric Dane's tastes and interests that it is difficult to make anyspecial preparation. "

"It may be difficult, " said Mrs. Plinth with decision, "but it isnecessary. I know what that happy-go-lucky principle leads to. As I toldone of my nieces the other day, there are certain emergencies for whicha lady should always be prepared. It's in shocking taste to wear colourswhen one pays a visit of condolence, or a last year's dress when thereare reports that one's husband is on the wrong side of the market; andso it is with conversation. All I ask is that I should know beforehandwhat is to be talked about; then I feel sure of being able to say theproper thing. "

"I quite agree with you, " Mrs. Ballinger assented; "but--"

And at that instant, heralded by the fluttered parlourmaid, Osric Daneappeared upon the threshold. 

Mrs. Leveret told her sister afterward that she had known at a glancewhat was coming. She saw that Osric Dane was not going to meet themhalf way. That distinguished personage had indeed entered with an air ofcompulsion not calculated to promote the easy exercise of hospitality. She looked as though she were about to be photographed for a new editionof her books. 

The desire to propitiate a divinity is generally in inverse ratio to itsresponsiveness, and the sense of discouragement produced by Osric Dane'sentrance visibly increased the Lunch Club's eagerness to please her. Anylingering idea that she might consider herself under an obligation toher entertainers was at once dispelled by her manner: as Mrs. Leveretsaid afterward to her sister, she had a way of looking at you that madeyou feel as if there was something wrong with your hat. This evidenceof greatness produced such an immediate impression on the ladies that ashudder of awe ran through them when Mrs. Roby, as their hostess ledthe great personage into the dining-room, turned back to whisper to theothers: "What a brute she is!"

The hour about the table did not tend to revise this verdict. It waspassed by Osric Dane in the silent deglutition of Mrs. Bollinger's menu, and by the members of the club in the emission of tentative platitudeswhich their guest seemed to swallow as perfunctorily as the successivecourses of the luncheon. 

Mrs. Ballinger's reluctance to fix a topic had thrown the club into amental disarray which increased with the return to the drawing-room, where the actual business of discussion was to open. Each lady waitedfor the other to speak; and there was a general shock of disappointmentwhen their hostess opened the conversation by the painfully commonplaceenquiry. "Is this your first visit to Hillbridge?"

Even Mrs. Leveret was conscious that this was a bad beginning; and avague impulse of deprecation made Miss Glyde interject: "It is a verysmall place indeed. "

Mrs. Plinth bristled. "We have a great many representative people, " shesaid, in the tone of one who speaks for her order. 

Osric Dane turned to her. "What do they represent?" she asked. 

Mrs. Plinth's constitutional dislike to being questioned was intensifiedby her sense of unpreparedness; and her reproachful glance passed thequestion on to Mrs. Ballinger. 

"Why, " said that lady, glancing in turn at the other members, "as acommunity I hope it is not too much to say that we stand for culture. "

"For art--" Miss Glyde interjected. 

"For art and literature, " Mrs. Ballinger emended. 

"And for sociology, I trust, " snapped Miss Van Vluyck. 

"We have a standard, " said Mrs. Plinth, feeling herself suddenly secureon the vast expanse of a generalisation; and Mrs. Leveret, thinkingthere must be room for more than one on so broad a statement, tookcourage to murmur: "Oh, certainly; we have a standard. "

"The object of our little club, " Mrs. Ballinger continued, "is toconcentrate the highest tendencies of Hillbridge--to centralise andfocus its intellectual effort. "

This was felt to be so happy that the ladies drew an almost audiblebreath of relief. 

"We aspire, " the President went on, "to be in touch with whatever ishighest in art, literature and ethics. "

Osric Dane again turned to her. "What ethics?" she asked. 

A tremor of apprehension encircled the room. None of the ladies requiredany preparation to pronounce on a question of morals; but when theywere called ethics it was different. The club, when fresh fromthe "Encyclopaedia Britannica, " the "Reader's Handbook" or Smith's"Classical Dictionary, " could deal confidently with any subject; butwhen taken unawares it had been known to define agnosticism as a heresyof the Early Church and Professor Froude as a distinguished histologist;and such minor members as Mrs. Leveret still secretly regarded ethics assomething vaguely pagan. 

Even to Mrs. Ballinger, Osric Dane's question was unsettling, and therewas a general sense of gratitude when Laura Glyde leaned forward to say, with her most sympathetic accent: "You must excuse us, Mrs. Dane, fornot being able, just at present, to talk of anything but 'The Wings ofDeath. "'

"Yes, " said Miss Van Vluyck, with a sudden resolve to carry the war intothe enemy's camp. "We are so anxious to know the exact purpose you hadin mind in writing your wonderful book. "

"You will find, " Mrs. Plinth interposed, "that we are not superficialreaders. "

"We are eager to hear from you, " Miss Van Vluyck continued, "ifthe pessimistic tendency of the book is an expression of your ownconvictions or--"

"Or merely, " Miss Glyde thrust in, "a sombre background brushed into throw your figures into more vivid relief. _Are_ you not primarilyplastic?"

"I have always maintained, " Mrs. Ballinger interposed, "that yourepresent the purely objective method--"

Osric Dane helped herself critically to coffee. "How do you defineobjective?" she then enquired. 

There was a flurried pause before Laura Glyde intensely murmured: "Inreading _you_ we don't define, we feel. "

Otsric Dane smiled. "The cerebellum, " she remarked, "is not infrequentlythe seat of the literary emotions. " And she took a second lump of sugar. 

The sting that this remark was vaguely felt to conceal was almostneutralised by the satisfaction of being addressed in such technicallanguage. 

"Ah, the cerebellum, " said Miss Van Vluyck complacently. "The club tooka course in psychology last winter. "

"Which psychology?" asked Osric Dane. 

There was an agonising pause, during which each member of the clubsecretly deplored the distressing inefficiency of the others. Only Mrs. Roby went on placidly sipping her chartreuse. At last Mrs. Ballingersaid, with an attempt at a high tone: "Well, really, you know, it waslast year that we took psychology, and this winter we have been soabsorbed in--"

She broke off, nervously trying to recall some of the club'sdiscussions; but her faculties seemed to be paralysed by the petrifyingstare of Osric Dane. What _had_ the club been absorbed in? Mrs. Ballinger, with a vague purpose of gaining time, repeated slowly: "We'vebeen so intensely absorbed in--"

Mrs. Roby put down her liqueur glass and drew near the group with asmile. 

"In Xingu?" she gently prompted. 

A thrill ran through the other members. They exchanged confusedglances, and then, with one accord, turned a gaze of mingled reliefand interrogation on their rescuer. The expression of each denoteda different phase of the same emotion. Mrs. Plinth was the first tocompose her features to an air of reassurance: after a moment's hastyadjustment her look almost implied that it was she who had given theword to Mrs. Ballinger. 

"Xingu, of course!" exclaimed the latter with her accustomed promptness, while Miss Van Vluyck and Laura Glyde seemed to be plumbing the depthsof memory, and Mrs. Leveret, feeling apprehensively for AppropriateAllusions, was somehow reassured by the uncomfortable pressure of itsbulk against her person. 

Osric Dane's change of countenance was no less striking than that ofher entertainers. She too put down her coffee-cup, but with a look ofdistinct annoyance; she too wore, for a brief moment, what Mrs. Robyafterward described as the look of feeling for something in the backof her head; and before she could dissemble these momentary signs ofweakness, Mrs. Roby, turning to her with a deferential smile, had said:"And we've been so hoping that to-day you would tell us just what youthink of it. "

Osric Dane received the homage of the smile as a matter of course; butthe accompanying question obviously embarrassed her, and it became clearto her observers that she was not quick at shifting her facial scenery. It was as though her countenance had so long been set in an expressionof unchallenged superiority that the muscles had stiffened, and refusedto obey her orders. 

"Xingu--" she said, as if seeking in her turn to gain time. 

Mrs. Roby continued to press her. "Knowing how engrossing the subjectis, you will understand how it happens that the club has let everythingelse go to the wall for the moment. Since we took up Xingu I mightalmost say--were it not for your books--that nothing else seems to usworth remembering. "

Osric Dane's stern features were darkened rather than lit up by anuneasy smile. "I am glad to hear that you make one exception, " she gaveout between narrowed lips. 

"Oh, of course, " Mrs. Roby said prettily; "but as you have shown usthat--so very naturally!--you don't care to talk of your own things, wereally can't let you off from telling us exactly what you think aboutXingu; especially, " she added, with a still more persuasive smile, "assome people say that one of your last books was saturated with it. "

It was an _it_, then--the assurance sped like fire through the parchedminds of the other members. In their eagerness to gain the leastlittle clue to Xingu they almost forgot the joy of assisting at thediscomfiture of Mrs. Dane. 

The latter reddened nervously under her antagonist's challenge. "May Iask, " she faltered out, "to which of my books you refer?"

Mrs. Roby did not falter. "That's just what I want you to tell us;because, though I was present, I didn't actually take part. "

"Present at what?" Mrs. Dane took her up; and for an instant thetrembling members of the Lunch Club thought that the champion Providencehad raised up for them had lost a point. But Mrs. Roby explained herselfgaily: "At the discussion, of course. And so we're dreadfully anxious toknow just how it was that you went into the Xingu. "

There was a portentous pause, a silence so big with incalculable dangersthat the members with one accord checked the words on their lips, likesoldiers dropping their arms to watch a single combat between theirleaders. Then Mrs. Dane gave expression to their inmost dread by sayingsharply: "Ah--you say _the_ Xingu, do you?"

Mrs. Roby smiled undauntedly. "It is a shade pedantic, isn't it?Personally, I always drop the article; but I don't know how the othermembers feel about it. "

The other members looked as though they would willingly have dispensedwith this appeal to their opinion, and Mrs. Roby, after a bright glanceabout the group, went on: "They probably think, as I do, that nothingreally matters except the thing itself--except Xingu. "

No immediate reply seemed to occur to Mrs. Dane, and Mrs. Ballingergathered courage to say: "Surely every one must feel that about Xingu. "

Mrs. Plinth came to her support with a heavy murmur of assent, and LauraGlyde sighed out emotionally: "I have known cases where it has changed awhole life. "

"It has done me worlds of good, " Mrs. Leveret interjected, seeming toherself to remember that she had either taken it or read it the winterbefore. 

"Of course, " Mrs. Roby admitted, "the difficulty is that one must giveup so much time to it. It's very long. "

"I can't imagine, " said Miss Van Vluyck, "grudging the time given tosuch a subject. "

"And deep in places, " Mrs. Roby pursued; (so then it was a book!) "Andit isn't easy to skip. "

"I never skip, " said Mrs. Plinth dogmatically. 

"Ah, it's dangerous to, in Xingu. Even at the start there are placeswhere one can't. One must just wade through. "

"I should hardly call it _wading_, " said Mrs. Ballinger sarcastically. 

Mrs. Roby sent her a look of interest. "Ah--you always found it wentswimmingly?"

Mrs. Ballinger hesitated. "Of course there are difficult passages, " sheconceded. 

"Yes; some are not at all clear--even, " Mrs. Roby added, "if one isfamiliar with the original. "

"As I suppose you are?" Osric Dane interposed, suddenly fixing her witha look of challenge. 

Mrs. Roby met it by a deprecating gesture. "Oh, it's really notdifficult up to a certain point; though some of the branches are verylittle known, and it's almost impossible to get at the source. "

"Have you ever tried?" Mrs. Plinth enquired, still distrustful of Mrs. Roby's thoroughness. 

Mrs. Roby was silent for a moment; then she replied with lowered lids:"No--but a friend of mine did; a very brilliant man; and he told me itwas best for women--not to.... "

A shudder ran around the room. Mrs. Leveret coughed so that theparlour-maid, who was handing the cigarettes, should not hear; Miss VanVluyck's face took on a nauseated expression, and Mrs. Plinth looked asif she were passing some one she did not care to bow to. But the mostremarkable result of Mrs. Roby's words was the effect they produced onthe Lunch Club's distinguished guest. Osric Dane's impassive featuressuddenly softened to an expression of the warmest human sympathy, andedging her chair toward Mrs. Roby's she asked: "Did he really? And--didyou find he was right?"

Mrs. Ballinger, in whom annoyance at Mrs. Roby's unwonted assumptionof prominence was beginning to displace gratitude for the aid she hadrendered, could not consent to her being allowed, by such dubious means, to monopolise the attention of their guest. If Osric Dane had not enoughself-respect to resent Mrs. Roby's flippancy, at least the Lunch Clubwould do so in the person of its President. 

Mrs. Ballinger laid her hand on Mrs. Roby's arm. "We must not forget, "she said with a frigid amiability, "that absorbing as Xingu is to _us_, it may be less interesting to--"

"Oh, no, on the contrary, I assure you, " Osric Dane intervened. 

"--to others, " Mrs. Ballinger finished firmly; "and we must not allowour little meeting to end without persuading Mrs. Dane to say a fewwords to us on a subject which, to-day, is much more present in all ourthoughts. I refer, of course, to 'The Wings of Death. '"

The other members, animated by various degrees of the same sentiment, and encouraged by the humanised mien of their redoubtable guest, repeated after Mrs. Ballinger: "Oh, yes, you really _must_ talk to us alittle about your book. "

Osric Dane's expression became as bored, though not as haughty, as whenher work had been previously mentioned. But before she could respondto Mrs. Ballinger's request, Mrs. Roby had risen from her seat, and waspulling down her veil over her frivolous nose. 

"I'm so sorry, " she said, advancing toward her hostess with outstretchedhand, "but before Mrs. Dane begins I think I'd better run away. Unluckily, as you know, I haven't read her books, so I should be at aterrible disadvantage among you all, and besides, I've an engagement toplay bridge. "

If Mrs. Roby had simply pleaded her ignorance of Osric Dane's works asa reason for withdrawing, the Lunch Club, in view of her recent prowess, might have approved such evidence of discretion; but to couple thisexcuse with the brazen announcement that she was foregoing the privilegefor the purpose of joining a bridge-party was only one more instance ofher deplorable lack of discrimination. 

The ladies were disposed, however, to feel that her departure--nowthat she had performed the sole service she was ever likely to renderthem--would probably make for greater order and dignity in the impendingdiscussion, besides relieving them of the sense of self-distrust whichher presence always mysteriously produced. Mrs. Ballinger thereforerestricted herself to a formal murmur of regret, and the other memberswere just grouping themselves comfortably about Osric Dane when thelatter, to their dismay, started up from the sofa on which she had beenseated. 

"Oh wait--do wait, and I'll go with you!" she called out to Mrs. Roby;and, seizing the hands of the disconcerted members, she administereda series of farewell pressures with the mechanical haste of arailway-conductor punching tickets. 

"I'm so sorry--I'd quite forgotten--" she flung back at them from thethreshold; and as she joined Mrs. Roby, who had turned in surprise ather appeal, the other ladies had the mortification of hearing her say, in a voice which she did not take the pains to lower: "If you'll letme walk a little way with you, I should so like to ask you a few morequestions about Xingu.... "

III

The incident had been so rapid that the door closed on the departingpair before the other members had time to understand what washappening. Then a sense of the indignity put upon them by Osric Dane'sunceremonious desertion began to contend with the confused feeling thatthey had been cheated out of their due without exactly knowing how orwhy. 

There was a silence, during which Mrs. Ballinger, with a perfunctoryhand, rearranged the skilfully grouped literature at which herdistinguished guest had not so much as glanced; then Miss Van Vluycktartly pronounced: "Well, I can't say that I consider Osric Dane'sdeparture a great loss. "

This confession crystallised the resentment of the other members, andMrs. Leveret exclaimed: "I do believe she came on purpose to be nasty!"

It was Mrs. Plinth's private opinion that Osric Dane's attitude towardthe Lunch Club might have been very different had it welcomed her in themajestic setting of the Plinth drawing-rooms; but not liking to reflecton the inadequacy of Mrs. Ballinger's establishment she sought aroundabout satisfaction in depreciating her lack of foresight. 

"I said from the first that we ought to have had a subject ready. It'swhat always happens when you're unprepared. Now if we'd only got upXingu--"

The slowness of Mrs. Plinth's mental processes was always allowed forby the club; but this instance of it was too much for Mrs. Ballinger'sequanimity. 

"Xingu!" she scoffed. "Why, it was the fact of our knowing so much moreabout it than she did--unprepared though we were--that made Osric Daneso furious. I should have thought that was plain enough to everybody!"

This retort impressed even Mrs. Plinth, and Laura Glyde, moved by animpulse of generosity, said: "Yes, we really ought to be gratefulto Mrs. Roby for introducing the topic. It may have made Osric Danefurious, but at least it made her civil. "

"I am glad we were able to show her, " added Miss Van Vluyck, "that abroad and up-to-date culture is not confined to the great intellectualcentres. "

This increased the satisfaction of the other members, and they beganto forget their wrath against Osric Dane in the pleasure of havingcontributed to her discomfiture. 

Miss Van Vluyck thoughtfully rubbed her spectacles. "What surprised memost, " she continued, "was that Fanny Roby should be so up on Xingu. "

This remark threw a slight chill on the company, but Mrs. Ballingersaid with an air of indulgent irony: "Mrs. Roby always has the knack ofmaking a little go a long way; still, we certainly owe her a debt forhappening to remember that she'd heard of Xingu. " And this was felt bythe other members to be a graceful way of cancelling once for all theclub's obligation to Mrs. Roby. 

Even Mrs. Leveret took courage to speed a timid shaft of irony. "I fancyOsric Dane hardly expected to take a lesson in Xingu at Hillbridge!"

Mrs. Ballinger smiled. "When she asked me what we represented--do youremember?--I wish I'd simply said we represented Xingu!"

All the ladies laughed appreciatively at this sally, except Mrs. Plinth, who said, after a moment's deliberation: "I'm not sure it would havebeen wise to do so. "

Mrs. Ballinger, who was already beginning to feel as if she hadlaunched at Osric Dane the retort which had just occurred to her, turnedironically on Mrs. Plinth. "May I ask why?" she enquired. 

Mrs. Plinth looked grave. "Surely, " she said, "I understood from Mrs. Roby herself that the subject was one it was as well not to go into toodeeply?"

Miss Van Vluyck rejoined with precision: "I think that applied only toan investigation of the origin of the--of the--"; and suddenly she foundthat her usually accurate memory had failed her. "It's a part of thesubject I never studied myself/, " she concluded. 

"Nor I, " said Mrs. Ballinger. 

Laura Glyde bent toward them with widened eyes. "And yet itseems--doesn't it?--the part that is fullest of an esotericfascination?"

"I don't know on what you base that, " said Miss Van Vluyckargumentatively. 

"Well, didn't you notice how intensely interested Osric Dane became assoon as she heard what the brilliant foreigner--he _was_ a foreigner, wasn't he?--had told Mrs. Roby about the origin--the origin of therite--or whatever you call it?"

Mrs. Plinth looked disapproving, and Mrs. Ballinger visibly wavered. Then she said: "It may not be desirable to touch on the--on that partof the subject in general conversation; but, from the importance itevidently has to a woman of Osric Dane's distinction, I feel as ifwe ought not to be afraid to discuss it among ourselves--withoutgloves--though with closed doors, if necessary. "

"I'm quite of your opinion, " Miss Van Vluyck came briskly to hersupport; "on condition, that is, that all grossness of language isavoided. "

"Oh, I'm sure we shall understand without that, " Mrs. Leveret tittered;and Laura Glyde added significantly: "I fancy we can read between thelines, " while Mrs. Ballinger rose to assure herself that the doorswere really closed. 

Mrs. Plinth had not yet given her adhesion. "I hardly see, " shebegan, "what benefit is to be derived from investigating such peculiarcustoms--"

But Mrs. Ballinger's patience had reached the extreme limit of tension. "This at least, " she returned; "that we shall not be placed again in thehumiliating position of finding ourselves less up on our own subjectsthan Fanny Roby!"

Even to Mrs. Plinth this argument was conclusive. She peered furtivelyabout the room and lowered her commanding tones to ask: "Have you got acopy?"

"A--a copy?" stammered Mrs. Ballinger. She was aware that the othermembers were looking at her expectantly, and that this answer wasinadequate, so she supported it by asking another question. "A copy ofwhat?"

Her companions bent their expectant gaze on Mrs. Plinth, who, in turn, appeared less sure of herself than usual. "Why, of--of--the book, " sheexplained. 

"What book?" snapped Miss Van Vluyck, almost as sharply as Osric Dane. 

Mrs. Ballinger looked at Laura Glyde, whose eyes were interrogativelyfixed on Mrs. Leveret. The fact of being deferred to was so new tothe latter that it filled her with an insane temerity. "Why, Xingu, ofcourse!" she exclaimed. 

A profound silence followed this challenge to the resources of Mrs. Ballinger's library, and the latter, after glancing nervously toward theBooks of the Day, returned with dignity: "It's not a thing one cares toleave about. "

"I should think not!" exclaimed Mrs. Plinth. 

"It _is_ a book, then?" said Miss Van Vluyck. 

This again threw the company into disarray, and Mrs. Ballinger, with animpatient sigh, rejoined: "Why--there _is_ a book--naturally.... "

"Then why did Miss Glyde call it a religion?"

Laura Glyde started up. "A religion? I never--"

"Yes, you did, " Miss Van Vluyck insisted; "you spoke of rites; and Mrs. Plinth said it was a custom. "

Miss Glyde was evidently making a desperate effort to recall herstatement; but accuracy of detail was not her strongest point. At lengthshe began in a deep murmur: "Surely they used to do something of thekind at the Eleusinian mysteries--"

"Oh--" said Miss Van Vluyck, on the verge of disapproval; and Mrs. Plinth protested: "I understood there was to be no indelicacy!"

Mrs. Ballinger could not control her irritation. "Really, it is toobad that we should not be able to talk the matter over quietly amongourselves. Personally, I think that if one goes into Xingu at all--"

"Oh, so do I!" cried Miss Glyde. 

"And I don't see how one can avoid doing so, if one wishes to keep upwith the Thought of the Day--"

Mrs. Leveret uttered an exclamation of relief. "There--that's it!" sheinterposed. 

"What's it?" the President took her up. 

"Why--it's a--a Thought: I mean a philosophy. "

This seemed to bring a certain relief to Mrs. Ballinger and Laura Glyde, but Miss Van Vluyck said: "Excuse me if I tell you that you're allmistaken. Xingu happens to be a language. "

"A language!" the Lunch Club cried. 

"Certainly. Don't you remember Fanny Roby's saying that there wereseveral branches, and that some were hard to trace? What could thatapply to but dialects?"

Mrs. Ballinger could no longer restrain a contemptuous laugh. "Really, if the Lunch Club has reached such a pass that it has to go to FannyRoby for instruction on a subject like Xingu, it had almost better ceaseto exist!"

"It's really her fault for not being clearer, " Laura Glyde put in. 

"Oh, clearness and Fanny Roby!" Mrs. Ballinger shrugged. "I daresay weshall find she was mistaken on almost every point. "

"Why not look it up?" said Mrs. Plinth. 

As a rule this recurrent suggestion of Mrs. Plinth's was ignored in theheat of discussion, and only resorted to afterward in the privacy ofeach member's home. But on the present occasion the desire to ascribetheir own confusion of thought to the vague and contradictory nature ofMrs. Roby's statements caused the members of the Lunch Club to utter acollective demand for a book of reference. 

At this point the production of her treasured volume gave Mrs. Leveret, for a moment, the unusual experience of occupying the centre front; butshe was not able to hold it long, for Appropriate Allusions contained nomention of Xingu. 

"Oh, that's not the kind of thing we want!" exclaimed Miss Van Vluyck. She cast a disparaging glance over Mrs. Ballinger's assortment ofliterature, and added impatiently: "Haven't you any useful books?"

"Of course I have, " replied Mrs. Ballinger indignantly; "I keep them inmy husband's dressing-room. "

From this region, after some difficulty and delay, the parlour-maidproduced the W-Z volume of an Encyclopaedia and, in deference to thefact that the demand for it had come from Miss Van Vluyck, laid theponderous tome before her. 

There was a moment of painful suspense while Miss Van Vluyck rubbed herspectacles, adjusted them, and turned to Z; and a murmur of surprisewhen she said: "It isn't here. "

"I suppose, " said Mrs. Plinth, "it's not fit to be put in a book ofreference. "

"Oh, nonsense!" exclaimed Mrs. Ballinger. "Try X. "

Miss Van Vluyck turned back through the volume, peering short-sightedlyup and down the pages, till she came to a stop and remained motionless, like a dog on a point. 

"Well, have you found it?" Mrs. Ballinger enquired after a considerabledelay. 

"Yes. I've found it, " said Miss Van Vluyck in a queer voice. 

Mrs. Plinth hastily interposed: "I beg you won't read it aloud ifthere's anything offensive. "

Miss Van Vluyck, without answering, continued her silent scrutiny. 

"Well, what _is_ it?" exclaimed Laura Glyde excitedly. 

"_Do_ tell us!" urged Mrs. Leveret, feeling that she would havesomething awful to tell her sister. 

Miss Van Vluyck pushed the volume aside and turned slowly toward theexpectant group. 

"It's a river. "

"A _river?_"

"Yes: in Brazil. Isn't that where she's been living?"

"Who? Fanny Roby? Oh, but you must be mistaken. You've been reading thewrong thing, " Mrs. Ballinger exclaimed, leaning over her to seize thevolume. 

"It's the only Xingu in the Encyclopaedia; and she _has_ been living inBrazil, " Miss Van Vluyck persisted. 

"Yes: her brother has a consulship there, " Mrs. Leveret interposed. 

"But it's too ridiculous! I--we--why we _all_ remember studying Xingulast year--or the year before last, " Mrs. Ballinger stammered. 

"I thought I did when _you_ said so, " Laura Glyde avowed. 

"I said so?" cried Mrs. Ballinger. 

"Yes. You said it had crowded everything else out of your mind. "

"Well _you_ said it had changed your whole life!"

"For that matter. Miss Van Vluyck said she had never grudged the timeshe'd given it. "

Mrs. Plinth interposed: "I made it clear that I knew nothing whatever ofthe original. "

Mrs. Ballinger broke off the dispute with a groan. "Oh, what does itall matter if she's been making fools of us? I believe Miss Van Vluyck'sright--she was talking of the river all the while!"

"How could she? It's too preposterous, " Miss Glyde exclaimed. 

"Listen. " Miss Van Vluyck had repossessed herself of the Encyclopaedia, and restored her spectacles to a nose reddened by excitement. "'TheXingu, one of the principal rivers of Brazil, rises on the plateau ofMato Grosso, and flows in a northerly direction for a length of no lessthan one thousand one hundred and eighteen miles, entering the Amazonnear the mouth of the latter river. The upper course of the Xingu isauriferous and fed by numerous branches. Its source was first discoveredin 1884 by the German explorer von den Steinen, after a difficult anddangerous expedition through a region inhabited by tribes still in theStone Age of culture. '"

The ladies received this communication in a state of stupefied silencefrom which Mrs. Leveret was the first to rally. "She certainly _did_speak of its having branches. "

The word seemed to snap the last thread of their incredulity. "And ofits great length, " gasped Mrs. Ballinger. 

"She said it was awfully deep, and you couldn't skip--you just had towade through, " Miss Glyde added. 

The idea worked its way more slowly through Mrs. Plinth's compactresistances. "How could there be anything improper about a river?" sheenquired. 

"Improper?"

"Why, what she said about the source--that it was corrupt?"

"Not corrupt, but hard to get at, " Laura Glyde corrected. "Someone who'd been there had told her so. I daresay it was the explorerhimself--doesn't it say the expedition was dangerous?"

"'Difficult and dangerous, '" read Miss Van Vluyck. 

Mrs. Ballinger pressed her hands to her throbbing temples. "There'snothing she said that wouldn't apply to a river--to this river!" Sheswung about excitedly to the other members. "Why, do you remember hertelling us that she hadn't read 'The Supreme Instant' because she'dtaken it on a boating party while she was staying with her brother, and some one had 'shied' it overboard--'shied' of course was her ownexpression. "

The ladies breathlessly signified that the expression had not escapedthem. 

"Well--and then didn't she tell Osric Dane that one of her books wassimply saturated with Xingu? Of course it was, if one of Mrs. Roby'srowdy friends had thrown it into the river!"

This surprising reconstruction of the scene in which they had justparticipated left the members of the Lunch Club inarticulate. At length, Mrs. Plinth, after visibly labouring with the problem, said in a heavytone: "Osric Dane was taken in too. "

Mrs. Leveret took courage at this. "Perhaps that's what Mrs. Roby didit for. She said Osric Dane was a brute, and she may have wanted to giveher a lesson. "

Miss Van Vluyck frowned. "It was hardly worth while to do it at ourexpense. "

"At least, " said Miss Glyde with a touch of bitterness, "she succeededin interesting her, which was more than we did. "

"What chance had we?" rejoined Mrs. Ballinger. 

"Mrs. Roby monopolised her from the first. And _that_, I've no doubt, was her purpose--to give Osric Dane a false impression of her ownstanding in the club. She would hesitate at nothing to attractattention: we all know how she took in poor Professor Foreland. "

"She actually makes him give bridge-teas every Thursday, " Mrs. Leveretpiped up. 

Laura Glyde struck her hands together. "Why, this is Thursday, and it's_there_ she's gone, of course; and taken Osric with her!"

"And they're shrieking over us at this moment, " said Mrs. Ballingerbetween her teeth. 

This possibility seemed too preposterous to be admitted. "She wouldhardly dare, " said Miss Van Vluyck, "confess the imposture to OsricDane. "

"I'm not so sure: I thought I saw her make a sign as she left. If shehadn't made a sign, why should Osric Dane have rushed out after her?"

"Well, you know, we'd all been telling her how wonderful Xingu was, andshe said she wanted to find out more about it, " Mrs. Leveret said, witha tardy impulse of justice to the absent. 

This reminder, far from mitigating the wrath of the other members, gaveit a stronger impetus. 

"Yes--and that's exactly what they're both laughing over now, " saidLaura Glyde ironically. 

Mrs. Plinth stood up and gathered her expensive furs about hermonumental form. "I have no wish to criticise, " she said; "but unlessthe Lunch Club can protect its members against the recurrence ofsuch--such unbecoming scenes, I for one--"

"Oh, so do I!" agreed Miss Glyde, rising also. 

Miss Van Vluyck closed the Encyclopaedia and proceeded to button herselfinto her jacket "My time is really too valuable--" she began. 

"I fancy we are all of one mind, " said Mrs. Ballinger, lookingsearchingly at Mrs. Leveret, who looked at the others. 

"I always deprecate anything like a scandal--" Mrs. Plinth continued. 

"She has been the cause of one to-day!" exclaimed Miss Glyde. 

Mrs. Leveret moaned: "I don't see how she _could!_" and Miss Van Vluycksaid, picking up her note-book: "Some women stop at nothing. "

"--but if, " Mrs. Plinth took up her argument impressively, "anythingof the kind had happened in _my_ house" (it never would have, her toneimplied), "I should have felt that I owed it to myself either to ask forMrs. Roby's resignation--or to offer mine. "

"Oh, Mrs. Plinth--" gasped the Lunch Club. 

"Fortunately for me, " Mrs. Plinth continued with an awful magnanimity, "the matter was taken out of my hands by our President's decision thatthe right to entertain distinguished guests was a privilege vested inher office; and I think the other members will agree that, as she wasalone in this opinion, she ought to be alone in deciding on the best wayof effacing its--its really deplorable consequences. "

A deep silence followed this outbreak of Mrs. Plinth's long-storedresentment. 

"I don't see why I should be expected to ask her to resign--" Mrs. Ballinger at length began; but Laura Glyde turned back to remind her:"You know she made you say that you'd got on swimmingly in Xingu. "

An ill-timed giggle escaped from Mrs. Leveret, and Mrs. Ballingerenergetically continued "--but you needn't think for a moment that I'mafraid to!"

The door of the drawing-room closed on the retreating backs of theLunch Club, and the President of that distinguished association, seatingherself at her writing-table, and pushing away a copy of "The Wings ofDeath" to make room for her elbow, drew forth a sheet of the club'snote-paper, on which she began to write: "My dear Mrs. Roby--"