Malcolm Durrant might be a great traveller, and doubtless was; but all
the same, Mr Starling felt annoyed at being disturbed in his Sunday
nap. Great people did not raise enthusiasm within his breast: he
believed in them, of course, and would have been quite interested to
hear some of the said Malcolm Durrant's adventures, had that gentleman
been kind enough to tell them. But on a hot August afternoon, sleep was
more refreshing than anything else, and he was not in the best of
humours, when he entered the room where his guest was waiting for him.
Robina--Something was about to happen which would be to Robina's
advantage. As a matter of fact, she was his favourite child. He had a
much better time when she was at home than when she was at school. She
suited him, as he himself expressed it, down to the ground. She
"ragged" him, as she called it. She was not at all afraid of him. She
made him laugh. She encouraged him to be more noisy at meals than Miss
Felicia thought was seemly in the house with a great invalid. He had
yielded to Miss Felicia's representations that school was necessary for
Robina. She had gone to school, and some one else had discovered her
virtues, for she had come back accompanied by a very valuable adjunct--
no less a thing than a live pony, a spirited animal which could gallop
and canter and trot and look all that was bright and intelligent. This
animal, provided with a side-saddle and attendant groom whose wages were
paid by some one else was a great addition to the _menage_ at the Brown
House. When Robina went away to Sunshine Lodge, accompanied by the pony
and the groom and the side-saddle, Edward Starling had missed his child
and her belongings a great deal. He wondered what else was to be
expected of him, and nodded curtly now to the stranger as he entered the
room.
"Glad to see you, of course, sir," he said. "How is Robina?"
"Very well, thank you," said Durrant.
"You are a great person, Mr Durrant," said Starling: "that is, you have
made a great name for yourself. But be that as it may, I hold with the
words, `A man's a man for a' that.' You are a man, sir, and I am
another, and Robina is my child. Now, my sister-in-law, who between
ourselves is a right good sort but a bit of a goose, considers you not a
man, but an archangel, with a halo round you. Now I see neither the
archangel nor the halo, but a person who at present is enjoying the
society of my pleasing young daughter. I understand that you have come
to say something to me about her. What, Mr Durrant, may that something
be?"
"A very outspoken something," replied Durrant. "I am exceedingly glad,
Mr Starling, that you speak to me as you do. I am not an archangel,
and I wear no halo. I am an ordinary man. Circumstances have placed
me, on several occasions, in positions of extreme danger where, if I had
not used an Englishman's pluck, I should have been worsted in the
battle. I only did, sir, what you or any other man would have done
under the circumstances. But now--to come to your child. I want to
know if you will grant me a very great favour."
"Well, let us hear it, let us hear it," said Starling. "But why should
we sit moped up in this fusty room? Let us come out into the garden and
enjoy our pipes together: what do you say?"
"I shall be only too delighted," said Durrant.
The two men immediately left the drawing-room. Miss Felicia, from a
sheltered corner of her sister's bedroom, watched them as they passed up
and down.
"He has, my dear sister," she remarked, "the most honourable carriage of
the head: it is but to look at that man to see what he is. You, dear,
at least, won't throw any obstacle in the way of Robina's good luck: all
her life long it will be remembered in her favour that she was selected
by Malcolm Durrant to be the companion of his little boy during his own
absence."
"I am not likely to put an obstacle in the way," answered Mrs Starling,
"seeing that I have small voice in any matters. Where you don't rule
me,--Felicia,--my husband does; and where my husband doesn't, the little
children do; and where the little children don't, Robina does; and where
Robina doesn't, the servants do. I am ruled by everyone; I am the most
ruled out person on earth; I have not a bit of colour or opinion left.
When Bo-peep was here, I felt a little happier than I had done for some
time, because the animal seemed to like me without wanting in the very
least to get the upper hand of me. But there, it cannot be helped."
"Don't talk any more in that silly vein," was Miss Felicia's remark.
"Each day after day as it goes, you make things quite disagreeable and
contrary. I wanted to dress you nicely and bring you downstairs to tea,
so that you might have the privilege of conversing yourself with the
distinguished traveller; but really, what with hysterics in view, I
doubt if it would not be better to leave you upstairs."
"I am not going to have any hysterics," said poor Mrs Starling. "I
have passed all that. Perhaps Robina rules me rather less than the rest
of you; but I should like to see the man who wants to be a sort of
father to her. I can't imagine why she should leave her own father; but
you all think otherwise."
"We all think otherwise," retorted Miss Felicia with a sort of snort;
"when golden chances do come in life, as a rule one isn't such a fool as
to throw them away. But now, my dear Agnes, your purple silk dress with
the real lace collar will look exceedingly nice, and it will do you no
harm to get into it, even if you don't come downstairs."
While Mrs Starling was being dressed, the men were having their smoke
in the garden. Durrant made his proposal quite plainly before Mr
Starling.
"I shall be absent for a year," he said. "During that time, I want your
daughter to be my little son's companion; I, of course, paying all
expenses. At the end of the year, she can, if you wish it, go back to
Mrs Burton, and continue her education in that most excellent school,
or she can still remain under my roof, looked after by my friend and
relation, Mrs Temple, and given the best possible instruction that
Eastbourne and the neighbourhood of London can supply. When she is old
enough, I will myself send her to Newnham or Girton; or if she does not
care for that sort of education I will give her two or three years'
foreign travel. It will be a great pleasure to me to do all this for
the girl who helps my little boy during a rather lonely period of his
life. I offer these advantages to your daughter because, in the first
place, Ralph likes her better than any other girl he has ever seen, and
in the second place, I respect and love her on her own account. During
the holidays she will of course spend the time with you, unless you wish
it otherwise."
"There is no use whatever in that," said Starling, interrupting Mr
Durrant's remarks in a somewhat gruff voice. "Robina is a good girl,
and suits me uncommonly well, but she does not get on with the ladies
here. Can't tell why, I am sure--too outspoken--doesn't suit Felicia
Jennings. Felicia, between you and me, is somewhat of a bore--an
excellent creature, but too much `_don't_' about her. Robina has got a
high spirit, and she can't stand it. That is why she went to school.
Believe me, I didn't want her to go: I miss the girl uncommonly. She
takes after me--a little rough, you know."
"I haven't found her rough," said Mr Durrant.
"Well, perhaps you would not call it so; but that is what the women here
say. They have dinned it into my ear till at last I have got to believe
it. Robina is so rough, they say, and so noisy, and so like a tomboy."
"I need not tell you, my dear sir, that I found the child spirited and
agreeable and an excellent companion. What I admire about her so much
is her outspoken honesty and her truthfulness," said Mr Durrant.
"Well, yes; she is all that: I have never found her out in a lie, never,
although, to be sure, many a person might prevaricate a trifle to get
away from the `don'ts' of that old woman, Felicia. I am agreeable to
your proposal, Mr Durrant: you can carry it out with my consent, and I
have no doubt my poor wife will also fall in with your views: but I
leave you, sir, to tackle the ladies yourself, for I am no match for
them. Women are always slippery sort of creatures, hard to circumvent,
sir, and mighty knowing. It is my belief they have twice the brains of
us men. A woman can squeeze herself out of a corner where a man would
be simply trapped. Now you know my opinion. Robina's a good girl, and
she may as well stay at Sunshine Lodge for a year as at Mrs Burton's
for a year. As to the holidays; if you would invite me to spend part of
the time with her at Sunshine Lodge, it would save a lot of ructions;
but I don't make that a _sine qua non_. I am agreeable to any
arrangement that suits you and the ladies."
"Thank you; you are very kind," said Mr Durrant.
The conversation languished a little after that, although Mr Starling
tried to keep it lively by expatiating on Bo-peep's many excellent
points, and describing how truly his wife loved the little animal.
Eventually, a small, clear voice interrupted the conversation, and
Violet, dressed in her best and most starchy white frock, appeared on
the scene. She announced in a prim little voice that tea was ready.
"You is to come in, and I may hold oo's hand," said Violet, giving hers
at once with the utmost confidence to the stranger.
The men immediately entered the house, accompanied by the little maid.
Rose was within, looking rather tearful, and seated close to her mother.
"I is not to 'peak, but I is 'onging to," was her first remark as she
fixed her cherubic eyes on the stranger's face.
"Don't, Rose! Keep silent," said her aunt. "Mr Durrant, may I present
you to my dear sister, Robina's mother."
Mr Durrant found a place close to Rose. He presently transferred this
small person to his own knee, where she became radiantly happy, and then
he entered into conversation with Mrs Starling. Mrs Starling, without
in the least intending it, managed to convey to him the fact that she
considered Robina a very rough, disobedient child, whom of course she
loved, but to whom discipline was sadly necessary.
Mrs Starling was a very sweet looking woman, notwithstanding her
illness, and Durrant became instantly much interested in her, and asked
her a good many questions with regard to Robina. Finally, it was
arranged that the momentous question of the little girl's becoming
Malcolm Durrant's guest during his absence was to be deferred until the
week after that spent by the entire happy party of school-mothers on the
yacht; and Durrant promised to write to the Starlings on the subject at
the end of that period.
He arrived back at Sunshine Lodge early on Monday morning, and then
informed the different children that the weather report being excellent
they would start on the cruise early on the following day. Nothing
could exceed the delight of all the little school-mothers, and amongst
them, no one was more cheerful than Harriet Lane. She had quite
recovered her normal health, and was to all appearance in the highest of
spirits.
That evening, she and Jane had a short conversation together.
Jane, said Harriet; "I mean, if possible, to be the girl left in charge
of Ralph during his father's absence. I know quite well all that has
happened with regard to Robina. Mr Durrant wants Robina to stay with
Ralph here; and he went to see her people, because he told me so; but
all the same, matters won't be quite settled until Ralph himself
arranges the matter. Now Ralph wishes for me, not Robina, and I think
Ralph's wishes will in the end carry the day."
Jane looked somewhat unhappy. After a pause, she said:
"Nothing could be more delightful than our life here, and I am looking
forward to our time on board the yacht more than anything else in all
the world; but you manage somehow always to give an unpleasant tone to
things. I thought after the fright you got with regard to Ralph when we
were at school that you would let him alone in the future; but you are
just as bad as ever."
"I am," said Harriet; "I am worse than ever. I am not very happy at
home, and I have not the advantages that Robina has."
"Robina has one thing that you have not," said Jane, stoutly. "She
really and truly loves little children. Don't you remember how sweet
she was to Curly Pate? She has a way about her that all little children
like: I suppose it is partly because she has got two little sisters of
her own. Now, you do not care for children--not in your heart of
hearts."
"I don't care for the ordinary child, and I certainly began by not
loving Ralph at all," was Harriet's response; "but certainly I do care
for him now better than I ever did for any other child. If I were left
here, I should be good to him, and he would be happy. But that is not
the point. I want the advantages that Mr Durrant offers--oh yes!
Robina can keep her pony; that wonderful Bo-peep can go back to the
Brown House and delight them all, and Robina can ride Bo-peep in the
holidays. I don't grudge her her pony, but I do grudge her Ralph. Why
I--oh, but you don't know about that."
She stopped abruptly.
"You may as well tell me," said Jane. "I guessed--I think we all
guessed that something happened that day when you were so horribly cross
and would not come with us to the sea-shore. You got poor little Ralph
into no end of mischief that day, or why should you both have been taken
ill that evening?"
"I will tell you, Jane," said Harriet, "if you will promise never, never
to let it out to anybody else."
There was a girl lying in a hammock close by. That girl was Robina.
She had been fast asleep. The day was hot, and she was tired from much
exercise, for Mr Durrant's parties never did let the grass grow under
their feet. But she awoke now to find that Harriet and Jane were
standing a few feet away. Her impulse was to say, "I am here." The
next moment, she would have uttered the words, but, hearing her own name
spoken, arrested the speech that was on her lips. She did not know why,
but a swift and horrible temptation came over her. She bent a little
forward, and, unperceived by the two who were standing two or three feet
off, could hear every word that was spoken.
"You will never tell," began Harriet.
"No, no," said Jane, a trifle impatiently; "if I wanted to begin to tell
all the things you have confided in me, I'd have a pretty bad time of
it. You know you have always plotted and planned against Robina. Well,
what did you do against her that day?"
"The only thing I could do, and that was not much. You know all about
the gipsies, and my following Ralph and bringing him home and my real
sorrow, and my giving Ralph up to Robina; and you know how Robina won
the pony?"
"Yes," said Jane; "I know that story, I am perfectly sick of it," she
added.
"Well, that story has somehow come to an end, but another story has
begun. It is this: I will tell you what really did happen. I was, oh!
in such a rage; and I wouldn't ride the horrid donkey, and you all went
off without me, only Ralph--he stayed."
"He is a dear little boy," said Jane. "He did not want to stay, I can
tell you; but he could not stand the thought of your being left all
alone, so he asked his father if he might stay, and Mr Durrant said,
`Of course.' Mr Durrant never makes much of people being
self-sacrificing; he seems to think it only right. Well, anyhow, he
stayed."
"He did," said Harriet. "In some ways he was rather a little nuisance.
He talked to me and I talked to him; and he--he--told me that he loved
Robina the best."
The girl in the hammock gave a quick catch in her breath, then a sigh of
relief, but too faint to reach the girls who were talking eagerly in the
shrubbery below.
"He said he loved her best; and you know that sort of little chap," said
Harriet, "he never, never could tell a lie--that is quite outside his
category."
"Oh quite, dear little man!" said Jane.
"Well, I wanted some water-lilies; and what do you think? I tried to
pull some, but I couldn't, and he--he crept along a bough. I could have
prevented him, but I didn't, for a thought got into my head."
"What was that?"
"I knew quite well that if he crept along that bough--that willow bough
that hangs over the round pond, that it wouldn't hold his weight, and
that he would fall in."
"You knew it!" said Jane, gasping, "and you let him do it?"
"I did. I let him do it on purpose. He didn't see me. He wanted to
get the water-lilies for me, and he thought he would manage--oh, so
fine! and I watched behind a shrub."
"Oh, Harriet!"
"Well, my dear; you needn't go on like that. The bough dipped lower and
lower, and Ralph, he is not a bit frightened--you know he never was, he
is as plucky as his father. I did feel inclined to say, `oh, do go
back, Ralph--'"
"And you didn't say the words, Harriet?"
"No, no; you goose, I didn't; well, anyhow, he tumbled into the water
where it was pretty deep too; and he would have sunk, poor little man,
for there are such a lot of weeds about just there--only of course I was
close by, and I rushed down to the edge of the pond and flung myself in,
and swam out to him. I saved him--oh, it was quite easy; he was not
even unconscious when I got him out of the water; only of course we were
both drenched to the skin."
"I don't understand," said Jane. "It seemed a horrid mean thing to do,
and you speak as though it was something fine."
"Ralph thinks it awfully fine. You see, he takes it in this way. He
thinks he tried to get the lilies for me at the risk of his life."
"That's true enough," said Jane.
"And that I saved him at the risk of mine."
"Which is not a bit true," said Jane, "for you can swim like a duck
anywhere."
"Ah, but Ralph does not know that, and there is no one who will dare to
tell him. We both got ill afterwards, and I was more ill than Ralph,
because I was longer in my dripping wet clothes; and now Ralph loves me
much, much better than Robina, for you see I saved his life."
"Oh! I think you are a horrid girl!" said Jane.
"Do you? do you? Well, perhaps you won't think me quite so horrid when
I get you invited here, say, for Christmas, and when we have a jolly,
jolly time, with that old Mr Durrant safe in Africa and Ralph just
obliged to put up with us. I'll always be good to him, you may be sure
of that, but I shan't molly-coddle him: I'll look after number one, see
if I don't."
"All the same," said Jane, "Robina is the one who will be invited to
take care of Ralph, and you haven't a chance."
"I know better," said Harriet. "I have my own plans. You will have to
help me, for if you don't, I won't give you that five pounds that my
god-mother allows me on each of my birthdays."
"Five pounds!" said Jane, with a gasp.
"Yes; if I am allowed to stay as Ralph's companion, I will give you that
money this year. Think what that will mean."
Jane was absolutely silent. The girls went away from under the shadow
of the thick plantation, and walked like any other innocent little pair
in the sunshine. Robina, after a long time, crept out of her hammock
and went to the house. She had a dreadful feeling at her heart. She
must be alone. She reached her bedroom and locked herself in.
Book 2--CHAPTER TEN.