CHAPTER V.

GEORGIE ESMOND.

It suited Lisbeth to be charming this morning, and she was really

very agreeable indeed. She knew enough of art to appear to advantage

among pictures, and she had, withal, a certain demure and modest way

of admitting her ignorance, which was by no means unattractive. She

was bright, amiable, and, as it seemed, in the best of spirits. She

made friends with Miss Georgie, and delighted Colonel Esmond; she

propitiated Miss Estabrook, and rendered that inflammable elderly beau,

her brother, supremely happy by her friendly condescension; she treated

Anstruthers as if there had been no other event in their two lives but

this one morning and this one nice little party. She made the luncheon

even more entertaining than such small feasts usually were; in short,

she was Lisbeth Crespigny at her best, her spiciest, and in her most

engaging mood.

“Oh!” said that open-hearted Georgie, when she shook hands with her as

they parted--“Oh, I have enjoyed myself so much! I am so glad to have

met you. I hope we shall see each other again. Please ask me to call,

Mrs. Despard,” laughing prettily. “I should like it so much. I do so

hate to lose people whom I like.”

“Does that mean that you are so good as to like me a little?” said

Lisbeth, in her sweetest tone, wondering, at the same time, how on

earth the girl could have lived so long, and yet have retained that

innocent, believing air and impulsive way. “I hope it does.”

Georgie quite blushed with innocent fervor.

“Indeed it does,” she answered. “I should not say it, if it did not.

And I am sure that, if I see you more, I shall like you better and

better. It is so delightful to meet somebody one is sure one can be

fond of.”

It was an odd thing, but as Lisbeth looked at her for a moment, she

positively felt that she blushed faintly herself, blushed with a sense

of being a trifle ashamed of Lisbeth Crespigny. It would be dreadful to

have such a girl as this find her out; see her just as she was; read

her record just as the past had left it. She was half inclined to put

such a thing beyond the pale of possibility by drawing back.

“I want mamma to know you,” said Georgie. “Mamma is so fond of clever

people, that it makes me wish, often enough, that I was not such an

ordinary sort of girl.”

“We shall be delighted to see you, my dear,” said Mrs. Despard. “You

may be sure of that. Come as soon, and as often as possible.”

And so the matter was decided, and Lisbeth had not the power to draw

back, if she had determined to do so.

“You must have known Miss Crespigny quite a long time,” Georgie Esmond

said, cheerfully, to Anstruthers, before she went away with her father.

“Mrs. Despard said something about your having met her at that little

Welsh place, Pen’yllan wasn’t it? And you haven’t been at Pen’yllan to

stay for two or three years.”

“You ought not to have kept such a charming creature to yourself for

three years, my boy,” said the old colonel.

“I should think not, indeed,” chimed in Miss Georgie. “It was selfish,

and we are never selfish with him, are we, papa? We show him all our

nice people, don’t we?”

“But,” said Anstruthers, “I have not seen Miss Crespigny once during

the three years. After leaving Pen’yllan, we lost sight of each other,

somehow or other, and did not meet again until a short time ago, and

then it was quite by accident.”

“It was very careless of you to lose her then,” protested Miss Georgie.

“I would not have lost her for the world. Gentlemen are so cold in

their friendships. I don’t believe you ever really loved any of your

friends in your life, Mr. Hector.”

Anstruthers smiled a satirical smile.

“Ought I to have loved Miss Crespigny?” he demanded. “Ought I to begin

to love her now? If you think it is my duty, I will begin to do it at

once, Georgie.”

The girl shook her pretty head reproachfully.

“Oh!” she said, “that is always the way you talk, you grand young

gentlemen. It is the fashion to be sarcastic, and not to admire anybody

very much, or anything but yourselves,” saucily. “And you would sneer

at your best friends rather than not be in the fashion. I am sure I

don’t know what the world is coming to.”

“Who is sarcastic now, I should like to know?” said Anstruthers.

“I think it is Miss Georgie Esmond, who out-Herods Herod. Admire

ourselves, indeed! We only do what we are taught to do. What women

themselves teach us----”

“What!” exclaimed Georgie. “Do we teach you to admire yourselves, and

nothing else?”

“No,” was his answer. “You do not teach us that, but you do worse. Not

you, my kind, honest Georgie, but women who would have us believe they

are as honest and tender. They teach us that if we cling to our first

beliefs, we are fools, and deserve to be laughed at; they teach us to

sneer, and then scold us prettily for sneering; they leave us nothing

to believe in, and then make sad, poetic speeches about our want of

faith. There are men in the world for whom it would have been better if

they had never seen a woman.”

Georgie Esmond’s eyes opened wider and wider. She did not understand

such bitterness. She was a simple, healthful-minded girl, and had seen

very little of the world but its pleasant side.

“Why!” she said, “this is dreadful. And you say it as if you actually

meant it. I shall have to talk to mamma about you, Hector. Such cases

as yours are too much for me to deal with. What good is all your money,

and your genius, and your popularity, and--and good looks?” making a

charming, mischievous bow. “What pleasure can you derive from your

pretty rooms, and lovely pictures, and fine articles of _vertu_, if

you have such wicked thoughts as those? Somebody ought to take your

things from you, as we do Harry’s toys, when he is willful; and they

ought to be locked up in a cupboard, until you are in a frame of mind

to enjoy them.”

Anstruthers looked at her sweet, bright face with a kind of sad

admiration. Why had he not fallen in love with this girl, instead of

with the other? It was a hard fate which had led or driven him. What a

different man he might have been, if, three years ago, Georgie Esmond

had stood in Lisbeth Crespigny’s place!

“You don’t quite understand, Georgie,” he said, in a low, rather tender

tone. “You are too good and kind, my dear, to quite comprehend what

makes people hard, and bitter, and old before their time.”

And Colonel Esmond coming into the room to take her away, at this

moment, he gave her nice little hand the ghost of an affectionate

pressure, when she offered it to him in farewell.

And while Mr. Hector Anstruthers was railing, in this exalted strain,

at the falseness of womankind, the fair cause of his heresy was driving

home in a rather unpleasant frame of mind. It is never pleasant to

find that one has lost power, and it was a specially galling thing to

Lisbeth Crespigny to find herself at any time losing influence of any

kind. She did not find it agreeable to confront the fact that one of

her slaves had purchased his freedom, with his experience. Petty as

the emotion was, she had felt something akin to anger this morning,

when she had been compelled to acknowledge, as once or twice she had

been, that her whilom victim could address her calmly, meet her glance

with polite indifference, regard her, upon the whole, as he would have

regarded any far less accomplished woman.

“Less than four years ago,” she said to herself, with scorn, “if I had

trampled upon him, he would have kissed my feet. To-day, he only sees

in me an unpleasant young woman, whom he overrated, and accordingly

cherishes a grudge against. I have no doubt he looked at that pretty,

fresh, Esmond girl, as we sat together, and drew invidious comparisons

between us.”

Let us give her credit for one thing, however. She felt no anger

against the girl, who she fancied had taken her place. Somehow Georgie

Esmond, with her bright eyes, and her roses, and her ready good-nature,

had found a soft spot in Lisbeth’s rather hard heart. Miss Crespigny

could not have explained why it was, but she had taken a fancy to

Georgie Esmond. She liked her, and she wanted the feeling to be a

mutual one. She would have experienced something very like a pang, even

thus early in their acquaintance, if she had thought that the sweet,

honest young creature would ever see her with Hector Anstruthers’ eyes.

“Men are always disproportionately bitter,” she said, to herself. “It

is their way to make themselves heard when they are hurt. They seem to

have a kind of pride in their pain. Any ordinarily clever woman could

see that my lord of the studio had a grievance.”

“Lisbeth,” said Mrs. Despard, breaking in upon her reverie, “isn’t it

rather astonishing how that boy has improved?”

“He has improved,” said Lisbeth, “because he has ceased to be a boy. He

is a man in these days.”

“And a very personable and entertaining man, I must say,” returned

Mrs. Despard, nodding her head, in approval of him. “He is positively

handsome. And that luncheon was a very pretty, graceful affair, and

quite unique. I shall pay him a visit again one of these fine days.”

Being thus installed as one of Mrs. Despard’s favorites, it was not at

all singular that they should see a great deal of the young gentleman.

And they did see him pretty often. Gradually he forgot his objection

to meeting Lisbeth, and rather sneered in secret at the violence of

that first shock of repulsion. It was all over, now, he said, and why

should such a woman trouble him? Indeed, what greater proof of his

security could he give himself than the fact that he could meet her

almost daily, and still feel indifferent? It must be confessed that he

rather prided himself upon his indifference. He was drawn also into

greater familiarity with the household through Georgie Esmond. For,

in expressing her wish to make friends with Lisbeth, Georgie had been

sincere, as was her habit. A very short time after the luncheon her

first visit was made, and the first visit was the harbinger of many

others. “Mamma,” who was her daughter’s chief admiration, came with

her, and “mamma” was as much charmed, in her way, as Georgie had been

in hers. It was impossible for Lisbeth to help pleasing people when she

was in the right mood; and Mrs. Esmond and Georgie invariably put her

in the right mood. She could not help showing her best side to these

two sweet natures.

Miss Crespigny · 第 5 / 19 章