HOW SOME OLD FRIENDS REAPPEAR AGAIN; AND HOW SOME NEWS IS TOLD; AND
HOW MAURICE MAKES ANOTHER EFFORT TO WIN HIS CASE.
"Just been to see her," says Mr. Gower, who has selected the
snuggest chair in Margaret's drawing-room, and is now holding forth
from its cushioned depths with a radiant smile upon his brow. "She's
staying with the Tennants. They always had a hankering after Mrs.
Bethune."
"Fancy Marian's being with _anyone_ when Tessie is in town!" says
Margaret. "Captain Marryatt, that is a wretchedly uncomfortable
chair. Come and sit here."
"Oh, thanks! I'm all right," says Marryatt, who would have died
rather than give up his present seat. It has a full command of the
door. It is plain, indeed, to all present that he is expecting
someone, and that someone Mrs. Chichester--his mistaken, if honest,
infatuation for that lean young woman being still as ardent as of
yore.
Minnie Hescott, who is talking to Tita, conceals a smile behind her
fan.
"What! haven't you heard about her and Marian?" asks Gower, leaning
towards his hostess. "Why, you must be out of the swim altogether
not to have heard that. There's a split there. A regular cucumber
coldness! They don't speak now."
"An exaggeration, surely," says Margaret. "I saw lady Rylton
yesterday and---- How d'ye do, colonel Neilson?"
There is the faintest blush on Margaret's cheek as she rises to
receive her warrior.
"I hardly expected you to-day; I thought you were going down to
Twickenham."
"What an awful story!" says Gower, letting her hear his whisper
under pretence of picking up her handkerchief.
"Monday will do for that," says Neilson. "But Monday might not do
for you. I decided not to risk the Sunday. By-the-bye, I have
something to say to you, presently, if you can spare me a moment."
"Certainly," says Margaret, whereon the Colonel moves away to talk
to someone else.
"Same old game, I suppose," suggests Gower, in a sweetly
confidential tone, when he has gone. "Find it a little slow, don't
you, knowing exactly what he's going to say to you, presently, when
you have spared him a moment?"
"I really _don't_ know," says Margaret, bringing a dignified eye to
bear upon him.
"No? Then you ought. It isn't that you haven't had opportunities
enough. Time has not been denied you. But as you say you _don't_
know, I think it my duty to prepare you; to----"
"Really, Randal, I don't wish to know anything. I dare say Colonel
Neilson is quite capable of----"
"He appears to me," severely, "to be thoroughly _in_-capable. He
ought to have impressed it upon your brain in half the time he's
taken to do it. It is quite a _little_ speech, and only firmness was
required to make you remember it. This is it----"
"I don't wish to hear anything," says Margaret with suspicious
haste.
"But _I_ wish you to hear it. I think it bad to have things sprung
upon one unawares. Now listen. 'For the nine hundred and ninetieth
time, my beloved Margaret, I implore you on my bended knees to make
me a happy man!' You remember it now?"
"No, indeed; I never heard such an absurd speech in my life."
"That's the _second_ story you've told to-day," says Mr. Gower,
regarding her with gentle sorrow.
"Oh, don't be stupid!" says Margaret. "Tell me what I _want_ to
know; about Marian. I am sorry if there really has occurred a breach
between her and my aunt."
"There is little doubt about that! What a born orator is a woman!"
says Mr. Gower, with deep enthusiasm. "Not _one_ woman, mind you,
but _every_ woman. What command of language is theirs! I assure you
if Mr. Goldstone had heard Mrs. Bethune on the subject of the
Dowager Lady Rylton to-day, he would have given her a place in the
Cabinet upon the spot. She would carry all before her in the House
of Commons; we should have Home Rule for Ireland in twenty-four
hours."
"Perhaps she wouldn't have voted for it," says Margaret, laughing.
"You bet!" says Mr. Gower. "Any way, there's a row on between her
and Lady Rylton. The hatchet that has been buried for so long is dug
up again, and it is now war to the knife between them."
"But what is to become of Marian?" asks Margaret anxiously, whose
kind heart bleeds for all sad souls.
"She's going to marry a Russian. A nobody--but lots of money. Best
thing she could do, too," says Gower, speaking the last words
hurriedly, as he sees the door open and Margaret rise to receive her
new visitor.
The fresh arrival is Mrs. Chichester, exquisitely arrayed in a
summery costume of apple-green. It suits her eyes, which are greener
than ever to-day, and sparkling. Her whole air, indeed, is full of
delightful vivacity. There is a _verve,_ a brightness, about her
that communicates itself to her audience. She looks taller, thinner
than usual.
"Such news!" cries she, in her clear, sharp voice. "Jack is coming
home next month!"
"Jack?" questions Margaret.
"Yes, Jack. Jack Chichester--my husband, don't you know?"
At this a stricken silence falls upon her listeners. They all try to
look as if they had been accustomed to think of Jack Chichester as
an old and bosom friend. They also try (and this is even harder)
_not_ to look at Marryatt. As for him, he has forgotten that there
is anyone to look at him. His foolish, boyish eyes are fixed on Mrs.
Chichester.
"Yes, really," goes on that somewhat flighty young person. "No
wonder you are all surprised. He has been so long away that I expect
you thought he wasn't anywhere. _I_ did almost. Well, he's coming
now, any way, and that's a blessing. You'll all like him, I can tell
you."
There is a ring of genuine feeling in her tone, not to be mistaken.
She _is_ glad at the thought of her husband's return. Marryatt,
recognising that ring, sinks into a chair with a groan. Oh, heavens!
How he has pranced after that woman for fully twelve months, dancing
attendance upon her, fulfilling her commands, and all the time her
heart was filled with the face of this abominable Jack!
Presently, on the first moment, indeed, when he can do so with any
decency, he leaves Miss Knollys' house a sadder, and most decidedly
a wiser, man!
"Am I to sympathize with you?" asks Gower, in a low, expressive
voice, as Mrs. Chichester sweeps towards him.
She laughs.
"Pouf!" says she, making light of his little impertinence. "You're
out of it altogether. Why, I'm _glad_ he's coming home. You've
mistaken me."
"I knew it. I felt it all along," cries Gower enthusiastically. "It
is _you_ who have mistaken me. When I mentioned the word
'sympathy'--ah!" rapturously, "that was sympathy with your joy!"
"Was it? You ought to do it again," says Mrs. Chichester; "and
before the glass next time. _Practise_ it. However, I'm too happy to
give you the lesson you deserve. I can tell you Jack isn't half bad.
I like him better, any way, than any man I ever met in my life, and
that's saying a lot. Of course," candidly, "I doubt if I could ever
like any man as well as myself; but I confess I run it very close
with Jack."
"Naturally. 'We all love Jack,'" quotes Mr. Gower in a sort of
ecstasy.
"But for all that, I must have my little fling sometimes," says
Jack's wife, with a delightful smile, that makes her look thinner
than ever.
"Quite so," says Gower.
They both laugh--a good healthy laugh; and, indeed, the vulgar
expression coming from her does not sound so bad as it might. There
are some people who, when they say a queer thing, set one's teeth on
edge; and there are others who, when they use the same words, raise
only a smile. As yet, there is much injustice in the world.
Margaret is standing in a distant window, talking in an undertone to
Colonel Neilson, and Gower is now teasing Minnie Hescott, when once
again the door is thrown open and Sir Maurice comes in.
"Another surprise packet!" says Gower faintly. "Miss Hescott, you
know everything. _Are _there more to come? I'm not strong; my heart
is in a bad state. Pray, _pray_ give me a gentle word of warning
if----"
"Isn't he looking well!" says Minnie excitedly.
Sir Maurice is indeed looking very handsome as he comes up the room.
It brings a mutual smile to Margaret and Colonel Neilson's lips as
they note the extreme care with which he has got himself up for the
visit to--_his wife!_
He is holding his head very high, and the flower in his button-hole
has evidently been chosen with great care. He shakes hands with
Margaret first, of course, and with Tita last. She is sitting near
Mrs. Chichester, and she gives him her hand without looking at him.
She has grown a little white.
And then presently they all fade away: Captain Marryatt first, as
has been said, and Mrs. Chichester last, still saying absurd things
about the return of her "Jack"--absurd, but undoubtedly sincere.
"That's what made them so funny," said Gower afterwards. And now
Margaret makes a little excuse and goes too, but not before she has
asked Maurice to stay to dinner.
"Oh, thank you!" says Rylton, and then hesitates; but after a glance
at Tita's face, most reluctantly, and a little hopelessly, as it
seems to Margaret, declares he has a previous engagement.
"Another night, then," says Margaret kindly, and closes the door
behind her.