The luncheon bell rang at that moment. Eira, on the tiptoe of
expectation, took her place quietly at table, and no one would have
suspected the spirit of mischief which was largely mingled with her
happy excitement. She spoke little, and only in her dancing eyes could
anything unusual have been discerned.
Betty, on the contrary, was more talkative than her wont, and now and
then Frances glanced at her in some perplexity, for Eira's suspicion
that a hint as to Betty's probable whereabouts that morning had been
given by the elder sister to Horace, when she met him for an instant,
was well founded.
_Had_ they come across each other? Frances asked herself. She could
scarcely think so, and yet Betty was not quite like herself.
"Surely she would have told me first," thought Frances, though as
quickly as the thought came she put it from her as savouring of
self-seeking. Why should she expect it? Betty had no idea on what
foundation was built the fabric of her own happiness, and nothing was
more earnestly desired by Frances than that her sister should never, in
the very slightest degree, suspect the real state of the case.
She was recalled from her own abstraction by her father's voice,
replying to an inquiry from her mother as to whether Mr Littlewood had
made his appearance.
"Oh dear, yes," was the reply. "We've had a long talk this morning. I
was, of course, able to give him the information he wanted. But he is
coming again this afternoon."
"Oh, indeed," said Lady Emma, with more interest; "then I hope we may
see something of him."
"I doubt it," Mr Morion replied. "His time is limited, and we have a
good deal to go over yet. Really," with a little self-conscious smile,
"if I don't take care I shall be getting myself into the position of
doing agent's work for no pay," and he leaned back in his chair
complacently.
"I am sure Mr Ryder Morion should be very much obliged to you," said
Lady Emma, "and, indeed, to Mr Littlewood too. It isn't every young
man, with plenty of affairs of his own, no doubt, who would give himself
so much trouble for a friend."
"Humph! he is an intelligent young fellow," said Mr Morion; "seems glad
to gain experience. I don't know what his prospects are, but he may
have property of his own some day, though a younger son. The mother is
wealthy. I have promised to look up some things for him this afternoon,
so see that tea is brought into my study."
"Won't it do in the drawing-room?" said Eira, who could keep silence no
longer. "Mr Littlewood surely won't leave without seeing us at all!
We should like to know how Madeleine is, and all sorts of things."
"Nonsense," said her father. "He has come down for other purposes than
idle chatter with you girls. If his sister sends any message, I can
give it you."
He rose from the table as he spoke, Eira receiving her snub with the
keenest sense of enjoyment.
"You don't mind asking him to give our love to Madeleine, all the same,
do you, papa?" she said meekly.
"I will do so if I remember," Mr Morion replied, as he left the room,
followed, as usual, by his wife.
"Francie," said Betty, in a low voice, for Eira had had the discretion
to leave her sisters alone together. "Francie, come out into the garden
with me for a moment or two; I want to speak to you," and Frances
understood.
Tea was served in Mr Morion's room, as he had ordered. But a long time
passed after the ladies had finished theirs in the drawing-room, without
any sign of the visitor's departure. At last even Lady Emma began to
fidget.
"I am afraid poor papa will be quite tired out," she said. "I wish I
had insisted on their coming in here to tea. Frances, Eira--no, it
would scarcely do to send one of you--I think I must go myself. It is
really inconsiderate of the young man."
She was preparing to do as she said, when the door opened, and the two
men came in; Horace, slightly flushed, eager, and a little embarrassed
as he made his way up to Lady Emma, and shook hands with her heartily.
But she scarcely noticed him, so struck and startled was she by Mr
Morion's almost indescribably strange, half-dazed manner and expression.
He seemed like a man walking in a dream.
"My dear!" exclaimed his wife, "I am quite sure you are dreadfully
tired. Mr Littlewood will excuse you, I have no doubt, if you go and
lie down till dinner-time."
Mr Morion started.
"Tired! I? Oh, no," he said, "nothing of the kind! Don't be so
fanciful, Emma."
"And I mustn't stay," said Horace--"not for more than a few minutes, at
most. There are letters I must write for the night mail. I'm afraid I
have tired you, Mr Morion," and indeed the poor man did look, for once,
in danger of a thorough collapse.
Lady Emma glanced at him again with increasing anxiety, while Horace,
looking and feeling very guilty, still stood irresolutely, making no
attempt to sit down.
Frances came to the rescue, as usual. Doing so, indeed, seemed to be
her mission in life. She turned to Horace with a smile.
"Supposing we go out into the garden for a minute or two," she said, "or
at least we can go as far as the gate with you, Mr Littlewood, and
leave papa to rest. We want to hear about Madeleine, too."
Lady Emma looked relieved.
"Frances really has a good deal of tact," she thought, "but it is very
stupid of Mr Littlewood to have tired George so, by staying so long."
Once outside the house Horace turned eagerly to Frances.
"I hadn't the least idea," he began, "that your father was really so
nervous. I'm afraid I must have been far too abrupt."
He glanced round for Betty as he spoke. She had moved towards him, her
face full of anxiety.
"But it is all right, surely?" she whispered. "Papa wasn't angry, was
he?"
"I don't think so," answered Horace, "he only seemed extremely
surprised. What do you think, Miss Morion?" turning to Frances. "You
don't anticipate any real difficulty, I trust?"
"No," said Frances, with a smile. "I think it will be all right. But
we must have a little time to get used to the idea. I suppose fathers
always feel a certain shock when they have to face the thought of
parting with a daughter." Her words dispelled the slight misgiving, and
Horace's spirits rose again, and so, as a matter of course, did Betty's.
Eira's were already bubbling over, and soon, very soon, the merriest of
laughter might have been heard through the open windows of the
drawing-room, had Lady Emma and her husband not been too preoccupied to
notice it.
To say that the mother was less astonished than had been Betty's father
would still leave a wide margin for surprise on her part. For Mr
Morion's state of mind far exceeded that of even extreme astonishment.
He was amazed, unable even now to take in as a fact that _Betty_,
insignificant little Betty, as he had been rather in the habit of
considering her, could have become a person of sufficient consequence to
attract the notice--nay, more than notice, the admiration--of an
intelligent man, whom he had honoured with his own friendly regard, and
he blurted out the news with an abruptness and almost incoherence enough
to have startled any one less calm and in some ways phlegmatic than his
wife.
"Mr Littlewood," she repeated, "Mr Littlewood has proposed for Betty?
_Betty_! you are sure it is she--not, not Fr--?" Here some unexplained
instinct made her stop short.
"Betty, of course it is Betty," was the reply. "Though I confess I am
not a little astonished. A child--an undeveloped child--and he, a man
of the world and of very fair average intellect. What is he thinking
of?"
"You didn't speak in that way to _him_, I hope," said Lady Emma. "It
seems to me natural enough--he has fallen in love with her--and to _my_
mind has shown his good taste in doing so. She is not a showy girl, I
allow, but eminently refined and sweet-looking. And you forget that she
is twenty-four. A very suitable age. And except that she has no money,
I, her _mother_, consider her a prize worth winning."
"Ah, well," said Mr Morion, in a more conciliatory tone, for the rarity
of the occasions on which his wife "spoke out" to him made them the more
impressive. "Ah, well, I was taken aback, I suppose. You forget the
wretched state of my nerves. And--my being utterly unprepared for
anything of the kind. But you needn't be uneasy. I shall doubtless get
over it in a day or two."
For once the mother in Lady Emma asserted itself more strongly than the
wife.
"I have no doubt you will," she said, with a touch of irony which, even
if her husband had perceived, he could not have believed in. "But I am,
if not uneasy, at least anxious to learn more. Naturally so--for
Betty's sake. Is all satisfactory? His position and prospects? And
his mother's approval?"
At this Mr Morion began to feel and look rather small.
"I--I really can scarcely say," he replied. "He said a good deal--
something about India in the first place."
"Ah, yes," said Lady Emma, "he may have to go out for a few months,
perhaps, before he can arrange things for settling down."
"And as to his mother's approval," continued Mr Morion, not sorry to
turn the tables, "I scarcely understand you. How could there be any
possible question of her disapproval? One of _my_ daughters? And a
Morion? Where were the Littlewoods, I should like to know, in the days
when the Morions owned half a county and more in these parts? Besides,
it is not the first alliance between the two houses."
"True," said Lady Emma dryly. "But not only was Conrad Littlewood the
elder son--practically free to please himself--but _his_ Miss Morion, as
is often the case with the choice of a rich man, had a large private
fortune of her own."
To this Mr Morion found no reply. He was not going to allow that there
could be any possible question as to one of _his_ daughter's
eligibility.
And if Lady Emma's misgivings were not dispersed, there was too much
latent womanly sympathy about her for her to express them so as to cloud
the sunshine of Betty's first happiness. The sight of her radiant face,
half-an-hour or so later, when Horace had at last torn himself away, and
she crept into the drawing-room, her sisters having had the discretion
to betake themselves to their own quarters, appealed to the deepest of
her maternal feelings.
"My darling child," she said. "I am so happy for you, and I think I
have good reason to be so. I feel sure we may trust him."
"Dearest mamma," was all Betty's reply. Later in the evening she
confided to Frances that it all seemed _too_ happy.
"In story-books," she said, "and it is only from them that I know about
anything like this, things never go so well, there are always lots of
troubles, and uncertainties, and difficulties."
"But there is no rule without exception, you know," said Frances,
smiling at the sweet little face. "Let us hope that your case is in
this way to prove the rule."
In her own heart, nevertheless, Frances was by no means free from
misgiving, though in these first happy days she would not for worlds
have suggested anything to mar the fresh brightness.
And they _were_ happy days, even to Frances herself. There came to her
almost at once the reward of her self-effacement, aided no doubt by her
resolutely refraining as yet from dwelling on the mortification which at
first had seemed to her so well-nigh unendurably bitter. Horace had but
a short time to spare, two or three days at most, and then came the
good-bye, not a very melancholy one, as he was only rejoining as yet the
depot of his regiment. He was to pass through London on his way
thither, for Frances, the only one whom he thought it well to consult on
the point, agreed with him that it was better that his news should be
communicated to his mother by word of mouth than by letter. Mr Morion
entered into no practical details, the state of his own nerves occupying
him sufficiently for the present--a circumstance which, considering his
own uncertainty as to his plans, Horace could scarcely regret.
"I am very sanguine about it all," he said to Frances the evening before
he left. "There is no doubt as to my mother's great liking for Betty."
Frances smiled.
"Yes," she said demurely, "she likes her much the best of us, I know; it
is not Betty personally that she will object to, of course."
"As soon as I get on to definite ground with her," Horace continued, "I
will try to come down here again, and go into things with your father,
who will have got accustomed to the idea by then, I hope. You don't
think I have any reason to feel uneasy on that score, do you? Mr
Morion has not even spoken against India, so far."
Frances hesitated in her reply.
"I don't think he has taken in the possibility of _Betty's_ going to
India," she said. "Indeed, I don't think his mind has gone into any
details, though I fancy both he and mamma have some vague idea that
_you_ may have to go out for a time in the first place."
Horace's face fell.
"That would never do," he exclaimed. "I should not have a moment's
peace of mind if I went back there alone. And I don't see that that
need be anticipated. Heaven knows I don't _want_ to take her out there,
but plenty of girls, even delicate girls, do go and are none the worse
for it, for a short time, and my mother would not like me to be so far
away indefinitely. It might be the best thing--to bring her to her
senses," he was going to have added, but the expression jarred on him.
"I cannot think that your father would really object to it."
"Not on ordinary grounds," Frances replied. "But--papa is peculiar. If
he thought that Mrs Littlewood opposed your marriage on _any_ grounds,
he, on his side, would not give in in the least. On the contrary, he
would seek for all sorts of objections. He would be too indignant at
the idea of a child of his being unwelcome to any family to be even
reasonable."
Horace sighed.
"Well," he said, "we must hope for the best, and thank you very much,
Frances, for putting things so clearly. I know my ground better now.
If," he went on--"forgive me if you don't like the suggestion--if Ryder
Morion had been a nearer relation of yours, or on more intimate terms,
_he_ might have seemed the natural person to influence my mother, should
need arise."
"Yes," said Frances, thoughtfully, "but, you see, he is not in that
position towards us, and it would have had to be done very, very
carefully, so that my father should never have suspected any
intervention on his part. There is still the old sore, though I am very
glad that we now know him better."
The next few days were passed in keener anxiety on Frances' part than on
Betty's. Nor, if she had been gifted with clairvoyant powers, would her
misgivings have been decreased, but very much the reverse, by a
conversation which took place between the Littlewoods, mother and son,
the day following that of the latter's arrival in London.
Mrs Littlewood's tone and manner at the opening of this _tete-a-tete_
were strangely disconcerting, and the cause of this ever remained a
mystery to Horace, completely unsuspicious, as he was, of his mother's
fears lying in the direction of Frances instead of Betty. And as the
conversation proceeded, and light broke in upon her, he naturally
attributed the unmistakable softening of her tone to his own good
management, and his hopes rose accordingly; only, however, to be dashed
to the ground again, for while Mrs Littlewood's relief was great at the
substitution of the one sister for the other--towards whom she had
allowed herself to indulge in really unjustifiable prejudice--this happy
effect was greatly marred by her personal feeling of annoyance that she
herself should have been so mistaken. Her pride rose in arms, for she
would not allow, even to herself, that she was actuated by anything but
purely disinterested regard for Horace's welfare.
And her ultimatum, when she delivered it, was in accordance with this
position.
"My dear Horace," she said, "the whole thing could scarcely be more
unfortunate. She is a dear, sweet child, I own, but about as little
fitted to be your wife as Conrad's Lilian. So delicate, too, you could
never dream of taking her out to India."
A pang of cruel disappointment shot through the young man's heart at
these words.
"I have certainly not the slightest wish to do so," he replied, "though
she is not as delicate as she looks. I agree with you, however, as to
the inadvisability of such a step. That, indeed, is my reason for
putting it all before you in this way."
Mrs Littlewood raised her eyebrows.
"But what is the alternative?" she said. "If you exchange, you lose all
your steps, as you have constantly impressed upon me, not to speak of
the diminished pay in England. Of course the only thing to be done is
for you to go out alone again till you get your troop. And in every way
this is the wisest course. It gives time for consideration of the whole
affair. I need not remind you of the old proverb, `Marry in haste--'"
"But, mother," said poor Horace, almost stunned by her words. "You have
over and over again begged me to retire altogether, and--and promised to
make my doing so possible, though you know I would never have led an
idle life at home or anywhere."
"I have never promised, nor dreamt of promising, material help towards
your making an undesirable marriage," was the cold reply. "If you can
get employment in England which would justify you in marrying a
penniless, inexperienced, fragile girl like Betty Morion, do so. There
shall be no scandal about it in the family, but I entirely wash my hands
of any and all responsibility in the matter."
There was no more to be said. Half brokenhearted, for Frances' warnings
as to the probable effect on her father of such opposition naturally
came to add their force to his distress, Horace left his mother and
spent the rest of the morning in writing a very long letter to Frances
explaining the whole state of the case, and, by the same post, a much
more carefully worded one to his father-in-law elect, setting forth the
advantages to his future of his not leaving the service at present, and
expressing his hopes that, as the regiment was at a healthy station, the
marriage might take place within the next few months, so that Betty
might accompany him on his return to India. He did not name his mother.
Frances' heart sank when her father summoned her into his study the
morning of the receipt of these letters.
"What is the meaning of all this?" he demanded. "Littlewood says you
understand his position! Not very complimentary to Betty--baby though
she is. Does he think I am going to allow a daughter of mine to marry
into a marching regiment and go to the ends of the earth? What is his
mother thinking of?"