expect from Nan, but destruction!" Mrs Rendell spoke with melancholy
resignation, while the assembled sisters looked on with solemn eyes.
Dainty Lilias, pensive Elsie, kindly Agatha, Christabel the immaculate,
they stood gazing in a solid phalanx of disapproval, while Nan the
culprit hung her head and flushed with embarrassment. A moment later
Mrs Rendell had turned the conversation into another channel, unwilling
to prolong the present discussion in the presence of a stranger, and Nan
seized the opportunity to escape to the far end of the garden. Gervase
Vanburgh stood in her path, and spied the glimmer of tears on the dark
eyelashes as she passed by. Then she disappeared, and Elsie's chin
dropped with amazement as she saw the elegant stranger deliberately mark
a stone on the path, and kick it savagely with the toe of his patent
leather shoe.
"Bland of exterior, but concealing beneath the surface secret and
violent impulses!" Such was the character given to Gervase Vanburgh in
Miss Elsie Rendell's diary that evening; and perhaps for once the
youthful author was not far wrong in her conclusions!
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.
A VOW OF FRIENDSHIP.
The next morning at ten o'clock the Italian servant was entrusted with a
message from his master which created a wild excitement in the Rendell
family. Mr Vanburgh was restored to his usual health, and wished to
celebrate that fact, and provide at the same time a little entertainment
for his nephew, by giving an _alfresco_ luncheon in the garden, to which
he invited his friends at Thurston House. The meal would be served
under the beech-tree on the lawn, and Mr Vanburgh hoped to welcome his
guests at one o'clock precisely.
"But not all of us! There are six of us--six women--not to mention Mr
Talbot. Mr Vanburgh cannot mean to include the school-room party! The
elder ones will be delighted to accept, but--"
"_Mother_!" gasped Christabel. Agatha laid hold of the back of a couch,
and prepared to faint on the spot, and the Italian looked from one to
the other, a gleam of amusement showing in the dusky eyes.
"My master would be much disappointed, madam. He wishes especially the
young signorinas. I am to bear an invitation also to Mrs Maitland and
to Miss Kitty."
That settled the matter! If Kitty were going, it would be nothing short
of cruelty to keep her companions at home, so Mrs Rendell sent a
general acceptance to the invitation, and shrugged her shoulders
resignedly as each of the five girls hugged her in turns, and deafened
her with questions.
"Mother, what shall I wear?"
"Mother, my pique skirts have not come home from the wash! I wish you
would leave that horrid laundry. It's the third time--"
"Mother, will my pink blouse do? It's the nicest I have, and it's only
a little bit soiled on the sleeves, and if I wore clean cuffs--"
"Mother, need I change? Can't I go as I am, and be happy? I might want
to climb over a fence, and it's such spiky work."
"Mother, I think we should all go dressed alike in white dresses and
blue ties, and march across the road in a crocodile. Do let's! It
would be such fun!"
Mrs Rendell pressed her hands to her head in distracted fashion.
"If every single one of you is not out of this room in two minutes from
now, I'll retract, and send a refusal instead! Get away to your work!
I'll see you separately later on, if you want instructions, but surely
girls of your age ought to be able to dress without my assistance! The
only thing I bargain for is that you are _not_ alike, for that would
only accentuate your number, and as it is I feel ashamed to appear with
such a battalion."
"Lilias, need we go?" Ned Talbot slid his hand through his _fiancee's_
arm, and drew her into the garden. "If the party is too large, why
should we not reduce it by two, and have a quiet little lunch by
ourselves? I must leave before four o'clock, and if we go to the Grange
it will mean that we have no more time together, for we cannot run away
immediately after lunch. Mr Vanburgh would understand our position if
we sent an excuse."
"Oh, Ned!" cried Lilias, and the tone of reproach was so eloquent that
there could be no mistaking her wishes on the subject. "Oh, Ned, the
first time we have been asked! Our first invitation! You couldn't
really wish me to refuse it. I should be so dreadfully disappointed.
You don't know how much we have longed to be asked, or what castles in
the air we have built about this day!"
"Very well, dear; don't trouble yourself. We will do just as you
please," said Ned wearily. He tried to convince himself of the
reasonableness of Lilias's position, and to show no sign of resentment;
but the jar was there all the same, and seemed to set up a barrier
between them in all they did and said. If any one had foretold that he
should feel time drag heavily in Lilias's company, and cast about in his
mind for subjects on which to talk, how he would have derided the idea!
yet, alas, it had come true, for he felt a distinct sense of gratitude
towards Nan when she thrust her head out of a bedroom window and
summoned Lilias to her assistance. When there is no sympathy in the
great principles of life, small talks become increasingly difficult, as
this poor fellow was discovering to his cost.
Punctually at one o'clock the door of Thurston House was thrown open,
and Mrs Rendell was discovered standing upon the threshold, issuing
final directions to her flock.
"Stop talking! My dear, good girls, if you insist upon speaking all
together, how am I to make myself heard? Pray calm yourselves, and
behave like reasonable beings. Don't let me have the humiliation of
taking about a crowd of excited children who might never before have
been outside their own gate!" Then she marched majestically ahead, with
the demure Elsie as her companion, while the engaged couple followed,
and each of the three remaining girls fell back in turns to cast a
critical glance at her companions. Half-way across the road Nan's belt
was discovered to have parted company with the skirt, and the most
strategic measures were necessary in order to secure it before her
mother reached the door of the Grange.
"And remember, all of you, not to put your arms round her waist! The
pin will stick out, whatever I do with it," said Christabel darkly; then
the door was thrown open, and the butler led the way across the hall
towards the entrance to the garden. Each member of the visiting party
was consumed with curiosity to examine the beautiful objects on either
side, but had too much ado to keep her footing on the slippery oak floor
to have any attention to spare. Lilias clung to Ned's arm, Mrs Rendell
and Elsie minced along with tiny footsteps, and Nan waited until no one
was looking, and then gave giant strides from one mat to another, or
clung to a friendly rail to help her round slippery corners. Then at
last the garden was reached, and there, beneath the trees, stood an
enchanted table, laden with everything that was beautiful in the way of
glass and china, and banked up with a wealth of pink roses.
Mr Vanburgh's couch was drawn up at its head, and Kitty Maitland sat at
his side, bearing herself with that preternatural solemnity of manner
which she invariably adopted along with her best dress and hat. A
moment later Mrs Maitland and Gervase appeared from behind a tree, and
the elders shook hands and murmured the meaningless speeches common to
such occasions, while Kitty took an early opportunity of stepping to
Chrissie's side, and calling her attention to the splendours on the
table in a series of awed and breathless whispers.
"Gold spoons! Venetian glass! It breaks if you look at it! I daren't
drink a drop out of those tumblers, and I'm so thirsty! Such cream!
Such strawberries!--big as peaches, my love, and such lots of them. I
feel like the Queen of Sheba. There's no spirit left in me, it's all so
grand and gorgeous."
"I like it. It suits me! I was born to splendour!" said Chrissie, with
an air. "I call it awfully sweet of him to do the thing so well. But
what a dreadful number of knives and forks! I shall never know which to
use. I wish I had asked mother about it before we came, for I do so
detest making mistakes. Before a butler, too--so humiliating! And yet
I don't want to refuse anything I can help!"
"Don't refuse! Take all that comes, and crumble bread until you see how
other people eat it. That's my dodge when I go out to lunch with
mother. I say, how do you like the nephew? Doesn't he look ex-actly
like the tailor's advertisement that you see in the shop windows? I
have never seen any man look like that before, and want to pinch him, to
see if he is real. Do you suppose it's possible to be so handsome, and
yet as nice as if he were ugly, like Jim?"
"Jim! Jim ugly!" gasped Jim's outraged sister furiously. "Gwendoline
Maitland, you are raving! Jim is the best-looking man I know, and I'll
tell him the moment that he comes home that you said--"
"Jim won't mind. I told him so myself last year. He asked how I liked
his moustache, and I said it was `stubbly,' and he said moral worth was
better than brilliantine. There's none of your nasty pride about Jim."
Chrissie glared, but Kitty refused to be annihilated, and crinkled her
nose in sauciest defiance, whereupon her companion stared into space
with an expression of disdain. An onlooker would have concluded that a
serious quarrel had taken place; but such small interludes were of
common occurrence in the friendship of these two young women, and five
minutes later they were pinching each other in the most amicable manner,
and whispering, "Sit by me! Sit by me!" as if true happiness could not
be enjoyed apart.
During the meal which followed there was ample opportunity of "crumbling
bread," for the Vanburgh cook had received instructions to eclipse
himself for the young ladies' benefit, and the succession of curious
unknown dishes which he sent to table would have puzzled more
experienced "diners out" than the members of the present party. A
prettier scene could hardly be imagined than the table under the trees,
with the green lawn sweeping away on either side, the foreign servants
flitting to and fro, and the six girlish faces of the guests beaming
with delighted approval. Elsie's eyes grew large and dreamy, as she
mentally rehearsed the most appropriate language in which to chronicle
the event in her diary. Such expressions as "Arabian Nights
entertainment," "Green sward," and "Princely Splendour," figured largely
in the description, which ran to an inordinate length, and still seemed
to have left half the wonders untold.
Nan spoke little during the meal, but, like the proverbial parrot,
noticed much. She noticed that, though the utmost courtesy was
maintained between uncle and nephew, the elder man was evidently annoyed
by the persistent nonchalance of the younger; and she had a shrewd
suspicion that Gervase knew as much, yet did not trouble himself to
rectify it. She noticed that, while Ned was depressed, Lilias's mood
was of the gayest and sweetest; and she noticed that Gervase noticed as
much, and studied the lovers narrowly from his point of vantage across
the table. She heard dear old Agatha discussing politics with her host,
and quoting her father wholesale in her gallant attempt to be grown up
and important; and she chuckled audibly over the two schoolgirls'
enjoyment of the fare. Then at last the meal was over, and she heaved a
sigh of relief that all had passed off without catastrophe and with
credit to the family. No one had broken the fragile glass, no one had
betrayed a plebeian ignorance of the _convenances_, nor showed ill-bred
surprise. They had examined the _menu_ with an understanding air, as
though every other name was not as Greek to their ears, and had
refrained from any signs of approval more noticeable than pressures of
feet under the table, and occasional sly joltings of elbows.
The two ladies stayed beside Mr Vanburgh, while the younger members of
the party strolled about the grounds, Gervase Vanburgh first walking
with Lilias, and then making an excuse to cross to Nan's side. He
smiled as he came, and his first words showed that he had grasped the
situation without any need for words.
"I shall get myself disliked if I stay there any longer! Mr Talbot
leaves in another hour, I think, so it is hardly fair to him to engross
your sister."
"But how do you know anything about Mr Talbot? I never told you,"
cried Nan in amaze; and Gervase smiled in his aggravating, lazy fashion
as he replied--
"Oh no, you simply said that `a friend of Lil--a friend of my brother
Jim' was staying with you at present. That was all, I think. You gave
me no information."
"Which means that I did, of course, and blurted out everything in my
stupid, headlong fashion," sighed Nan dolefully. "It doesn't matter
much in this case, for a good many people know; but mother wishes it
kept as quiet as possible, because--"
"Just so. But I assure you that even without your hint I should have
discovered for myself that they were at present engaged; so there is no
necessity to blame yourself."
Nan wheeled round upon him with flashing eyes.
"Why do you say `at present'?" she demanded; and Gervase smiled in
impenetrable fashion.
"Did I say so? Foolish slip! They are engaged, of course. I wish Miss
Lilias every happiness, and congratulate Mr Talbot on his good taste.
She is certainly a lovely girl."
"Oh, isn't she?" cried Lilias's sister gladly. "I knew you would say
so. You see now how absurd it was to mistake me for her, and what a
difference there is between us! I knew quite well you would be
surprised."
Gervase Vanburgh put back his head, and stared at her with a scrutiny
which was not without a touch of cynicism; but the eager face he met was
at once so frank and so honest, that the sneer faded from his lips and
gave place to a smile.
"Yes," he said slowly, "there is a great difference. I cannot imagine
two people more unlike. You are complete contrasts in every respect."
"She is so fair, and I am dark," sighed Nan, a trifle abashed by so
vehement an assent, but striving loyally to conceal her discomfiture.
"Lilias is our beauty, and we are all very proud of her; but you cannot
really know the family until you have met Maud. Maud is the eldest
sister, and the best and sweetest of them all. She isn't pretty, but
she is such a dear that every one loves her. `Maud of all work' Jim
calls her, because she is always helping other people and forgetting
herself."
"Most exemplary, I'm sure. Excellent example!" drawled Gervase with a
yawn, at the sound of which the last trace of Nan's patience gave way.
She stood still in the path and fixed him with a glittering eye; but the
speech which swelled in her throat was slow in coming, choked back by
very excess of emotion. Gervase, in some alarm, demanded the cause of
her agitation, and received a straighter answer than he expected.
"I don't care to speak about Maud to a person who only sneers at her
goodness. If you don't mind, I'd rather talk about the weather, and the
garden, and things that don't matter; and then I can keep as indifferent
as you are yourself, and we sha'n't quarrel."
"I sneer! I beg a hundred pardons, Miss Nan, if I have appeared to
sneer at anything you say; but I assure you that I have never yet
voluntarily sneered at goodness; so that in this instance at least you
are doing me an injustice. You must believe me, please, for I am
thoroughly in earnest."
"Yes, I see you are. I'm sorry that I misjudged you."
"And I am sorry too. You are sorry, I am sorry, we are both sorry, so
now suppose we drop this subject and start afresh. I'd like to be
friends with you if you will; for I expect we shall see a good deal of
each other in future, and it would distress my uncle if we disagreed.
Do you think you could sign a treaty of friendship with me?"
"Well," said Nan slowly--and then paused, too honest to pledge her word
without counting the cost--"I could, but I'm not sure that it would
last. We are so different. Would you mind answering one personal
question?"
"I'll answer fifty with pleasure if it's in my power."
"Then have you known some awful trouble? Has something dreadful, heart-
breaking, happened to you, which you are trying to cover up and hide
from the world?"
Gervase stared at her in amazement, which ended in a laugh.
"Certainly not! I have had an absolutely smooth life--too smooth, I am
afraid, for the growth of character. Now I wonder what made you take
such an idea into your head!"
"I thought perhaps your heart was broken, and that was why you took no
interest in anything that was going on."
"Do I take no interest? I was under the impression that I took a great
deal--sometimes; but I have learned to conceal my feelings. You may not
perhaps be aware that English boys are educated in this fashion,
nowadays. At a public school it is considered `bad form' to be
enthusiastic on any subject. `Not bad' or `pretty decent' are the
superlatives of praise, and anything more emphatic is sure to be
snubbed. Perhaps I have been too apt a disciple in that school."
"I call it a hateful school! and if I had a hundred sons I would not let
one of them be trained under such an influence. If a boy is not to be
enthusiastic when he is young, when will he be, pray? Youth is the time
for noble dreams, for enthusiasm which carries all before it. It is the
enthusiasm of youth which keeps the world moving. None of your languid
half-measures for me!" declaimed Nan dramatically, backing into a
flower-bed in her earnestness, and trampling half a dozen begonias
beneath her heels. "Life is real--life is earnest!"
"It is indeed," cried Gervase, laughing; "and so, if you will permit me
to say so, is my uncle's gardener, when he is roused! Begonias, I
fancy, are his special passion. Miss Nan, you will have to be friends
with me whether you will or not, for our natures are so different that
we could be of infinite service to each other. You could inspire me
with your own enthusiasm, and I, in my turn, could curb and restrain
you."
"But, dear me," cried Nan, "I don't want to be curbed!" Then she looked
at the begonias, and her face fell. "But I suppose, like all
disagreeable things, it would be good for me; so I'll be friends, if you
like, Mr Vanburgh, and take my share of the discipline."
"I feel much honoured. It shall be my endeavour to be as little
disagreeable as I can," said Gervase Vanburgh, with his courtly bow; and
thus were the deeds signed in a friendship destined to have far-reaching
consequences.
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.
LILIAS INTERFERES.
Nan's compact of friendship with Gervase Vanburgh was announced to the
family, and received with acclamation by the younger sisters, and with
shocked disapproval by grown-up Lilias.
"Most improper!" she pronounced it. "You ought to remember, Nan, that
you are no longer a child in the schoolroom, and that such an intimacy
with a man of Mr Vanburgh's age is simply another word for flirtation.
It is all very well to call it friendship, but everybody knows perfectly
well what it means!"
She stopped short with an expressive wave of the hands, and Nan glared
at her with flashing eyes.
"If there is one thing more than another that I loathe--and detest--and
scorn--and despise," she replied, dropping out each word with vindictive
emphasis, "it is looking upon every man one meets in the light of a
possible husband, and taking for granted that you can't be civil to him
without making a fool of yourself! I don't know quite what you mean by
`flirting,' unless it is giggling and making eyes, as some idiotic girls
do; and I am quite sure that I am in no danger of following their
example!"
"You know perfectly well, Nan, that it means much more than that; and
Mr Vanburgh is a man of the world, and understands exactly to what you
are lending yourself. Judging by his manner, I should call him an
accomplished flirt!"
"Very well, then, I will ask him about it on the first opportunity. I
will tell him what you say, and find out what his ideas are, before
things have gone any further."
A gasp of dismay sounded round the schoolroom, for the listeners knew
that Nan was perfectly capable of putting her threat into words, and,
moreover, that in her present state of indignation it was certain that
she intended to do so. Lilias broke into angry protests, but Nan's icy,
"Don't be alarmed! I shall not mention your name," showed that the true
reason of her discomfiture had been gauged, and she could only hope that
no opportunity would occur for the putting of such a question before
Gervase left the Grange. In this hope, however, she was doomed to be
disappointed; for Mr Vanburgh invited Nan to tea on the following day,
and she departed, primed with determination. It seemed at first that
she would have no opportunity of broaching the all-important subject;
but when tea was over, Gervase proposed a walk round the grounds, and
Nan was no sooner clear of the house than she gave a preliminary little
cough, and said, in sententious accents--
"Mr Vanburgh, we have agreed to be friends, but I should like to hear,
as a preliminary measure, exactly your definition of the term. What is
a friend?"
Gervase's eyes twinkled and his lips twitched beneath his moustache, but
he made a gallant attempt at seriousness, and replied--
"A friend is a comrade who is faithful not only in words, but in deeds.
My friend is one who will make personal sacrifices to ensure my welfare;
who will not hear me maligned behind my back, but will reprove me to my
face when I have done wrong. My friend is one who cares for me for
myself, apart from my circumstances, and will be most loyal and loving
in the time of trouble!"
"Bravo! Bravo!" cried Nan enthusiastically. "That's good! I like
that! Those are exactly my own sentiments, only I could not have put
them into words. I had no idea you were so eloquent. Now, another
definition, please. What is a flirt?"
"A flirt!" An expression of the most complete amazement passed over
Gervase Vanburgh's face as he echoed the word, for this was, indeed, the
last question which he had expected to hear from Nan Rendell's lips.
"You want me to define a flirt? That is a little more difficult, but I
will try what I can do. `One who practises the art of flirting,' the
dictionary would tell us, with its usual admirable candour, but that
doesn't seem to give much enlightenment. A flirt, I should say, is the
antithesis of a friend, for he affects more than he feels; he flatters
and makes pretty speeches, while in effect he may be critical and
disparaging. He thinks of himself and his own amusement, and is so much
concerned for the gratification of his own vanity that he often inflicts
serious wounds on the hearts of others."
"So bad as that? Horrid things, how I despise them! I can't imagine
how people can make themselves so contemptible. Well, whatever may be
my faults, I can honestly say I am not a flirt; but some people are so
suspicious that they are always imagining mischief. Some one said to
me--I mean, I've heard it said--that when a man and a girl like you and
me agree to be friends, it is just another way of beginning a
flirtation. It made me very angry when I heard that; but now that I
have asked you, I am quite satisfied, for it seems impossible to mix the
two things together. You can't flatter a person when you have agreed to
tell him his faults; you can't feign a sentiment which is real. I knew
I was right, though I could not argue it out; but for the future I
sha'n't mind a bit when you say nasty things to me, for I shall feel
they are a proof of friendship; and I shall find fault with you on every
possible occasion, just to show that I am not flirting, and have only
your own good at heart."
Nan stopped short, quite out of breath with eagerness, and Gervase
looked at her with a scrutinising smile.
"So!" he was saying to himself, "Somebody said, did she? I wish
Somebody would mind her own business, and not put foolish ideas into
your innocent little head. Somebody has her own hands pretty full, I
imagine, and might be better employed looking after her own affairs;"
but aloud he said simply--