'It is vanity, my dear, vanity. You must not set your mind upon it,'
said Mrs Haldane.
'Oh, but it was delightful,' said Norah, 'it was wonderful! if you had
been there yourself you would have liked it as much as I did. Everybody
looked so nice, and everybody _was_ so nice, Mrs Haldane. A thing that
makes every one kind and pleasant and smiling must be good, don't you
think so? We were all as amiable, as charming, as fascinating as ever we
could be.'
'And whom did you dance with?' said Miss Jane.
'I danced with everybody. It is quite true. You cannot think how kind
the people were. When we went in first,' said Norah, with a laugh and a
blush, 'I saw so many strange faces, I was afraid I should have no
dancing at all; so I whispered to Charlie Dalton, 'Do take me out for
the next dance, Charlie!' and he nodded to say yes. I suppose it was
dreadfully wrong and ignorant; but I did so want to have a good dance!'
'Well, then, that is one,' said practical Miss Jane, beginning to count
on her fingers.
'Oh, no! it is not one at all. Mr Rivers came and asked me, and I forgot
all about Charlie. He forgot too, I suppose; for I did not dance with
him the whole evening. And then there was Ned, and young Mr Howard, and
Captain Douglas, and Mrs Dalton's brother, and--I told you, everybody;
and, to be very grand, Lord Merewether himself at the end.'
'Lord Merewether!' Miss Jane was deeply impressed, and held the finger
on which she had counted this potentate for a full minute. 'Then, Norah,
my dear, you had the very best of the great county folks.'
'Yes,' said Norah, 'it was very nice; only he was a little--stupid. And
then Ned again, and Mr Rivers; Mr Rivers was always coming; mamma made
me say I was engaged. It did not turn out to be a fib, for some
gentleman always came to ask me; but one always shows it in one's face
when one says a thing that is not quite true.'
'Oh, Norah!' said Mrs Haldane, 'is not that just what I told you? Do you
think anything can be good or right for a young girl in a Christian
land that makes you say what is not quite true? There may be no harm in
the dancing by itself, though in my day we were of a different way of
thinking; but to tell--lies----'
'Not lies, mother,' said Stephen. 'When Norah told Mr Rivers she was
engaged, he understood, of course, that she did not want to dance with
him.'
'Well,' said Norah slowly, 'I don't know. To tell the very, very truth,
I did want very much to dance with him. He dances like an angel--at
least, I don't know how an angel dances--Oh, please don't look so
shocked, Mrs Haldane; I did not mean any harm. He is just simply
delightful to dance with. But mamma thought something--I don't know
what. It is etiquette, you know; a girl must not dance very often with
one man.'
'And who is this Mr Rivers?' said Stephen. 'Is he as delightful in other
ways?'
'Don't you remember?' said Norah. 'It is so funny nobody seems to
remember but me. When we came here first, he was here too, and mamma and
I met him one day at our old home in London. Mr Stephen, I am sure I
have told you; the boy, I used to call him, that was on our side.'
'Ah, I remember now,' said Stephen; 'and he seems to be on your side
still, from what you say. But who is he, Norah, and what is he, and why
did he want to dance so often with you?'
'As for that,' said Norah, laughing, 'I suppose he liked me too; there
was not any other reason. He is so handsome!--just exactly like the hero
in a novel. The moment I saw him I said to myself, "Here is the hero."
He is almost too handsome: dark, with hair that curls all over his head,
and the most beautiful dark eyes. You never saw such beautiful eyes! Oh,
I am not speaking because I like him. I think I should almost like him
better if he was not quite so--don't you know? If I were writing a
novel, I should take him for the hero. I should make everybody fall in
love with him--all the ladies, one after another. When one sees a man
like that in real life,' said Norah, with gravity, 'it puts one directly
on one's guard.'
'Are you on your guard, Norah?' said Stephen, with a smile. The
incipient fun in his eyes was, however, softened by a tenderer alarm, a
wistful curiosity. The child! Since poor Drummond used to call her so,
regarding her as the child _par excellence_--the type and crown of
childhood--this was the name that had seemed most appropriate to Norah.
And it meant so much--not only Robert's child, who was gone, and had
left her to the love of his friends, but the very embodiment of youth
and innocence--the fresh, new life, to be made something better of than
any of the older lives had been. Should she, too, fall just into the
common snare--just into the vulgar pitfalls, as everybody did? The
thought disturbed her self-appointed guardian--her father's friend.
'Me!' said Norah, and her colour rose, and she laughed, with a light in
her eyes which had not been there before. It was not the glance of
rising excitement, as Stephen feared, but only a merry glow of youthful
temerity--that daring which loves to anticipate danger. 'Oh, what fun it
would be! But no, Mr Stephen; oh, no! that was not what I meant in the
least. I am not that sort of girl. Mr Rivers,' she added, with a certain
solemnity, 'had something to do with that bank, you know. I don't know
what he had to do with it. He is Lord Rivers's son, and it is to talk
over that that he is coming to see mamma.'
'Oh, to talk over that!' said Stephen, half amused.
'Yes, to talk it over,' said Norah, with great gravity; and then she
made a sudden leap from the subject. 'The Merewethers are all staying
at the great house--the Marchioness herself, and Lord Merewether, and
the girls; I think they are very nice girls. But, oh! Miss Jane, I must
tell you one thing; she had on her diamonds. I never saw diamonds
before. They are like light. They change, and they glimmer, and they
make little rainbows. I never saw anything so beautiful! They are like a
quantity of dewdrops when the sun is shining--only you never could get
dewdrops to keep still in one place.'
'And I suppose they are worth a mint of money,' said Miss Jane, with a
sigh of admiration. 'I have never seen them but in the shops, Norah; but
I don't think I should like to wear as much as would keep half-a-dozen
poor families round my neck.'
Norah paused doubtfully, not feeling equal to this question.
'I suppose they belong to the family, and she dare not sell them, and
then, perhaps--Would God have made diamonds if He did not mean people to
wear them?' she asked, with hesitation. 'Oh, do you know, I think I
should like so much to wear them, if they were mine!'
'Ah, my dear,' said old Mrs Haldane, 'see how vanity comes into the
mind. Yesterday you had never thought of diamonds; now you would
like--you know you would like--to have them; and from that to trying to
get them is but a step, Norah, but a step--if you don't mind.'
'I could only try to get them by stealing them,' said Norah; 'and, after
all, I don't care so much as that. Besides, girls don't wear diamonds.
But I'll tell you what I should like. I should like to take those lovely
things of the Marchioness's, and put them upon mamma.'
'There, I told you!' said the old lady. 'Norah, don't go to these places
any more. You have begun to covet them in your heart.'
'Oh, how beautiful mamma would look in them!' cried Norah. 'Mr Stephen,
is it vanity to admire one's mother? I suppose it must be really; for if
there is anything in the world that belongs to you, of course it is your
mother. I think mamma is beautiful: even in her black silk, made square,
and not so fresh as it once was, she was the most beautiful in the
room--I don't mean pretty, like us girls. And if I could have put her
into black velvet instead, with lovely lace, like Mrs Burton's, and the
Marchioness's diamonds--oh!' cried Norah, expanding in her proud
imagination, 'she would have been like a queen!'
'Oh, Norah, Norah!' cried Mrs Haldane, shaking her head.
'And so she would,' said Stephen. 'Norah is quite right.'
He spoke low, and there was a melancholy tone in his voice. He was
thinking sadly how she had been buried like himself in the middle of her
days--shut out from all those triumphs and glories which are pleasant to
a woman. A less human-hearted man in Stephen Haldane's position would no
doubt have pronounced it happy for Helen that she was thus preserved
from vanity and vain-glory. But he had learned to feel for all the
deprivations of life. This was what he was really thinking, but not what
he was supposed to think. Miss Jane gave a glance of her eye at him from
her sewing, half-indignant, half-sorrowful. She had fancied something of
the sort often, she said to herself. Stephen, poor Stephen! who could
never have a wife, or any other love different from her own. She thought
that the other woman whom she had admitted in all the confidence of
friendship had stolen from him her brother's heart.
'Well, and if she had,' said Miss Jane, with some sharpness, 'what good
would that have done her? I never heard that to be like a queen made
anybody the happier yet.'
'I was not thinking of what made her happier,' said Norah, coming
behind Miss Jane's chair, and stealing an arm round her neck, 'but of
what would make _me_ happier. Shouldn't you like to have everything that
was nice for Mrs Haldane and Mr Stephen, even if they didn't want it?
Oh, I know you would! and so should I.'
'You coaxing child! you would make one swear black was white! What has
that to do with lace and diamonds?' said Miss Jane; but she was
vanquished, and had no more to say.
'Mary and Katie were in white tarletane,' said Norah. 'They looked so
pretty! Clara looked very much the same. You can't have much better than
fresh white tarletane, you know; only she had the most beautiful silk
underneath, and heaps of ornaments. She is so big she can stand a great
deal of decoration; but it would not have done for any of us little
things. How anxious I used to be to grow big!' Norah went on. 'Now, on
the whole, I think it is best not; one does not take up so much room;
one does not require so much stuff for a dress; one can do without a
great many things. If I had been as big as Clara, now, for instance, I
never could have done with those little bits of bracelets and mamma's
one string of pearls.'
'So you see good comes from evil,' said Stephen, with a smile.
'Oh, Stephen, don't talk so to encourage the child! With your
upbringing, Norah, and with all the advantages you have had, to give up
your mind to such follies! If I were your poor mamma----'
'She is saying nothing wrong, mother,' said Miss Jane. 'It _is_ a great
gain to Norah, you know, that she is little, and can get a pretty dress
out of twelve yards of stuff, when Clara Burton takes twenty. That is
thrift, and not vanity. I am very glad you are little, Norah; big women
are always in the way. That Clara Burton, for instance--if she were in a
small house she would fill it all up; there would not be room for any
one else. What does Mr Rivers see in her, I wonder? She is not half so
nice as some people I know.'
'Mr Rivers?' said Norah.
'Yes, my dear. They say it is almost a settled thing between the two
families. She will have quantities of money, and he will be Lord Rivers
when his father dies. They say that is why he is here.'
It did not matter anything to Norah. She did not care; why should she?
Her very admiration of him had been linked with a gibe. He was too
handsome; he was a man out of a book. Nevertheless, she looked at Miss
Jane for a moment aghast. 'The boy that was on our side!' she said to
herself.
'Who are _they_, and what do they know about it?' said Stephen. 'People
don't make such arrangements now-a-days. If this were intended, you may
be sure nothing at all would be said.'
Stephen made this little speech partly out of a real regard for Norah's
cheerfulness, which he thought was affected, and partly to rouse her to
self-defence.
'But it would be quite nice,' said Norah, recovering her dismay. 'Oh,
how funny it would be to think of one of us being married! It should be
Clara the first; she is the youngest, but she is the biggest, and she
was always the one who would be first, you know. She is very, very
handsome, Miss Jane. You never were fond of Clara; that is why you don't
see it. It would be the very thing!' cried Norah, clapping her hands.
'She is not one of the girls that would go and make him vain, falling in
love with him. She will keep him in his right place; she will not let
him be the hero in the novel. The only thing is, I am a little
disappointed--though it is very foolish and stupid; for of course all
that is over long ago, and Clara is like my sister; and if Mr Burton was
wicked, I hope he has repented. But still, you know, I have always
thought of Mr Rivers as one that was on our side.'
'Hush, child!' cried Miss Jane. 'Don't be the one to keep up old
quarrels. That is all over now, and we have no sides.'
'So I suppose,' said Norah; 'but I feel a little as if he were a
deserter. I wonder if Clara likes him. I wonder if----It is all so very
funny! One of us girls! But I must go now to mamma. Mr Stephen, I will
come back in the evening, and tell you what mamma thinks, and if Mr
Rivers had anything to tell her--that is, if he comes to-day.'
And Norah ran away unceremoniously, without leave-taking. She was the
child of both the households. Sometimes she went and came a dozen times
in a day, carrying always a little stream of youth, and life, and
freshness into the stagnant places. Stephen laid down his book with a
smile at the sight of her; he took it up now with a little sigh. He had
sat there all these six years, a motionless, solemn figure, swept aside
from the life of man, and Norah's comings and goings had been as sweet
to him as if she had been his own child. Now he feared that a new
chapter of life was opening, and it moved him vaguely, with an
expectation which was mingled with pain; for any change must bring pain
to him. To others there would be alternations--threads twisted of dark
and bright, of good and evil; but to him in his chair by the window, no
change, he felt, could bring anything but harm.
'Oh, mamma,' said Norah, rushing into the drawing-room at the other side
of the house, 'fancy what I have just heard! They say it is all but
settled that Clara is to marry Mr Rivers. They say that is why he is
here.'
'It is very likely, dear,' said Helen. 'I thought something of that kind
must be intended from what I saw last night.'
'What did you see, mamma? How odd I should never have thought of it! I
feel a little disappointed,' said Norah; 'because, you know, I always
made up my mind that he was on our side.'
'We don't want him on our side,' said Mrs Drummond, with a decision
which surprised her daughter. 'And, Norah, I am glad you have spoken to
me. Be sure you don't forget this when you meet Mr Rivers: he is very
agreeable, and he seems very friendly; but you must take care never to
say anything, or to let him say anything, that you would not wish Clara
to hear.'
Norah paused, and looked at her mother with considerable
bewilderment. 'How very strange of you to say this, mamma! How very
disagreeable--never to say anything, nor let him say anything! But I
should hate to have Clara, or any one, listening to all I say. I will
not talk to him at all. I will close my lips up tight, and never say a
word. I suppose that will be best.'
'Not to-day, however,' said Mrs Drummond; 'for I see him coming, Norah.
You must be as you always are--neither opening your mouth too much, nor
closing it up too tight.'
'I hate the _juste milieu_,' said naughty Norah; but at that moment the
door-bell rang, and, before she could speak again, Mr Rivers was shown
in, looking more like the hero of a novel than ever. He was tall,
slender, well-proportioned. He had those curls about his temples which
go to a girl's heart. He had the most ingratiating nose, the
beautifullest eyes. 'For one thing,' said Norah to herself savagely,
'Clara will not go and fall in love with him and make him vain!' Clara
had too great an opinion of herself; she was not likely to be any man's
worshipper. There was consolation in that.
'It is a long time since we met,' Mr Rivers said; 'but you must pardon
me for thrusting myself upon you all at once, Mrs Drummond. I have never
forgotten what passed when I saw you last. I doubt whether I ought to
speak of it after all these years.'
'Perhaps it is better not,' said Helen.
'Perhaps; but I should like to say one thing--just one thing. I do not
know if you thought my father to blame. He is a quiet man; he never
makes any public appearance; he was a sufferer only. He had nothing to
do with the bank. He was one of those who were wronged, not of those who
did the wrong.'
'I have always known that,' said Mrs Drummond; and then there was a
pause. ('He is on our side still,' Norah thought to herself; but her
mother changed the subject abruptly.) 'The children have all grown up
since you were here. Time has made more change upon them than upon you.'
'Do you think so?' said the hero. 'I am not sure. Time has made a great
deal of difference in me. I am not half so sure of the satisfactoriness
of life and the good qualities of the world as I used to be. I suppose
it is a sign that age is coming on; whereas these young people, these
fairy princes and princesses, who were babies when I was here----'
At this point Norah was seized with one of those irrestrainable,
seductive laughs which lead the spirit astray. 'Oh, I beg your pardon,'
she said; 'but I was puzzled to think how poor dear Ned could be a fairy
prince! He is such a dear fellow, and I am so fond of him; but Prince
Charmant, mamma!'
'If he is a dear fellow, and you are fond of him, I should think it did
not matter much whether he looked like Prince Charmant or not,' said Mr
Rivers; and then he added, with a smile--'There are other kinds of
princes besides Charmant. Riquet, with the tuft, for instance; and he
with the long nose----'
Now Ned, poor fellow, had a long nose. He had not grown up handsome, and
Norah was strongly conscious of the fact. She felt that she had been the
first to laugh at him, and yet she hated this stranger for following her
example. She grew very red, and drew herself up with the air of an
offended queen.
'They all got _charmant_ at the last,' she said stiffly; 'that is better
than beginning by being _charmant_, and turning out very disagreeable in
the end.'
Mrs Drummond gave her daughter a warning glance. 'It was a pretty party
last night,' she said; 'I hope you liked it. We thought it very grand;
we have so little gaiety here.'
'Was it gaiety?' said the young man. 'I suppose it was; but a ball is
always rather a solemn affair to me, especially when you are staying in
the house. The horror that comes over you lest you have danced with some
one you ought not to have danced with, or left some one whom you ought.
I broke away for a little while last night when I saw you, and went in
for simple pleasure--but duty always drags one back at the end.'
'Duty at a ball! Why it is all pleasure,' cried Norah. 'It may be
foolish and frivolous, or it may even be--wrong; but I never was so
happy in my life.'
Then the hero of romance turned upon her, and smiled. 'You told me it
was your first ball,' he said; 'and that, I suppose, would naturally
make it look like Paradise.'
'It was very nice,' said Norah. His smile and his look drove her back
into the shelter of commonplace. Somehow when he looked at her, her
energy seemed to turn into exaggeration, and her natural fervour into
pretence. Then she plunged into the heart of a new subject with all a
child's temerity. 'Don't you think Clara is very handsome?' she said.
Mr Rivers did not shrink from a reply. 'She is very handsome--if she
knew how to dress.'
'Dress! why, she had the loveliest dress----'
'It was all white and puffy--like yours,' he said. 'Fancy that girl
having no more perception than to dress herself like you! What has she
to do with shadows, and clouds, and mystery? She should be in heavy
silks or satins, like the Juno she is.'
Norah did not quite make out what this meant; whether it was the highest
admiration or a covert sneer. She took it for granted it must be the
former. 'Yes; I know she is like a Juno,' she said, somewhat doubtfully;
adding, with a slightly faltering tone, 'and she is very nice too.'
'She is your cousin, Norah,' said Mrs Drummond quietly; and then the
child grew redder than ever, and felt herself put on her defence.
'I did not mean to gossip, mamma. I don't know what Mr Rivers likes to
talk about. When any one is quite a stranger, how can you tell, unless
you are very, very clever, what to talk about? And then I have been with
Mr Stephen, telling them all about the ball. It is in my head. I can't
think of anything else. How pretty the Merewether girls are! Oh, I beg
your pardon. I did not mean to go back to the same subject. But I had to
tell _them_ everything--what people were there, and whom I danced with,
and----'
'Mr Stephen always encourages your chatter,' said Helen, with a smile.
'What a sensible man Mr Stephen must be! May I know who he is?' said
young Rivers; and thus a new topic presented itself. Stephen Haldane's
name and his story brought up an unintentional reference to the
misfortunes which linked the two households together, and which had
given Cyril Rivers a certain hold upon them. When this chance was
afforded him, he told them, very simply and shortly, what sacrifices his
father had made; how he had mortgaged some of his property, and sold
some, and was living very quietly now, in retirement, till his children
were all educated. 'I am sent out into the world, to see how it looks
after the waters have abated,' he said, laughing. 'I have got to find
out how the land lies, and if there is any green showing above the
flood; but I don't know whether I am most likely to turn out the raven
or the dove.'
'Oh, I should like to find an olive leaf for you to fly back with,' said
Norah, obeying her first impulse, in her foolish way. Mrs Drummond
looked at him very gravely, without any of her daughter's enthusiasm.
'Mr Rivers must find the olive leaf in some warmer corner,' she said.
'They don't grow in our garden, Norah. We have none to give.'
'That is true,' said the heedless girl; 'but, if the olive would do, Mr
Rivers, there is one in the conservatory at the great house--a poor,
little, wee, stunted thing; but there is one, I know.'
Did she mean it? or was it mere innocence, heedlessness? It was not
wonderful if Cyril Rivers was puzzled, for even Mrs Drummond could not
make quite sure.