Glynne Day stood with her uncle at the edge of the dark wood, where the
slippery fir-needles lay thickly, and kept every blade of verdure from
thrusting forth a relief to the dull, neutral grey that carpeted the
ground, amid the tall, bronze-red columns. They gazed down a steep
slope, and over the wild heathery waste that lay between them and what
looked like a little wooded islet, rising out of the common into quite a
mamelon, almost precipitous of side, and crowned with a heavy-looking
edifice of brick, with other structures attached, all solid, plain, and
terribly out of character with the wild landscape.
For, from where they stood, as it were on the very verge of the
cultivated land, there was a stretch of miles upon miles of rolling
surface, here sand, there bog, the one brown and purple with the heather
or yellow with the gorse, the other in little patches of vivid green or
creamy pink, where the _sphagnum_ grew, and the cotton rushes had their
home.
"What a desolate looking spot it is," said the major thoughtfully, as
they watched the active little figure tripping along the sandy road;
"and yet it has its beauties after all."
"Ye-es, I suppose it has," said Glynne, "but I never think about its
being ugly or beautiful."
"No, my dear, you don't," said the major half pettishly; "and that's
what annoys me. Here you are, as beautiful a girl as well can be."
"Am I, uncle, dear?" said Glynne, with the same calm, pleasant smile.
"Are you? Why of course you are, and with a splendid intellect, only
you won't use it."
"Don't scold me, uncle," said the girl, creeping closer to him, "I don't
want to be clever, I don't want to know more than I know. I am so
happy: why should I change?"
The old man's brow grew knotty and corrugated, partly, from perplexity,
partly from annoyance, and he gazed sharply down at the sweet face
looking lovingly in his.
"There, there," he said, "I won't scold you, my darling. Look, there's
little Lucy waving her handkerchief before she enters Fort Science.
Fine fellow that brother of hers."
"Yes, Mr Alleyne is nice," said Glynne, returning her friend's salute;
and then, as Lucy disappeared at the curve of a steep path that ran up
the sandy mound, they turned and walked back towards the hall.
"And so you are very happy, my dear?" said the major, after a thoughtful
pause.
"Oh yes, uncle, so very happy," replied Glynne quietly. "You and papa
both love me."
"Oh, I don't know about that," said the major. "I'm not so sure that I
do."
"But I am," said the girl gently, "quite sure. Then Lucy loves me very
much, and our friends are all so kind, and even the servants always
smile pleasantly when I want anything done."
"Of course they do," said the major, testily.
"And it sets me wondering, when people talk about sorrow, and the
weariness of the world."
"Humph! I suppose so," the major said, stopping short; "and how about
Rolph?"
"Oh, he loves me too, uncle," replied Glynne in the same quiet, placid
tone and manner. "I was going to tell you: he has asked me if I would
be his wife."
"And you--you have told him you would be?"
"Yes, uncle. Papa approves of it, I know; and Robert is so brave and
strong and manly. Don't you think it is right?"
The major gave his hat a tilt on one side, and scratched his grey head
vigorously.
"Look here, Glynne," he cried; "you are the most extraordinary girl I
ever knew."
"I'm very sorry, uncle," she replied. "I can't help being so."
"No, no, of course not. But look here--do you love Rolph?"
"Oh yes, uncle, very much indeed."
"How do you know you do?" cried the major, in the tone of an examiner
dealing _viva voce_ with a candidate for a post in the army.
"Oh, because he loves me," said Glynne, naively; "and, you see, I've
known him a little ever since he was a boy."
"Yes, but look here; what makes you love him? Have you no other
reason?"
"No, uncle, dear," said Glynne; and there was not the slightest
heightening of colour, nor a trace of excitement as she spoke.
"But, my dear child," cried the major in the most perplexed way, "people
don't fall in love like that."
"Don't they, uncle?"
"No, no, of course not. There's a lot of passion and storm, and tempest
and that sort of thing."
"But only in books."
"Oh, yes, in real life. I remember when I fell in love with Lady Mary
Callaghan."
"Were you really once in love, uncle?" cried Glynne with the first touch
of animation that she had shown.
"Of course I was--of course--once--but it didn't come to anything.
Well, there was a lot of fire and fury over that."
"Was there, uncle?"
"Yes, to be sure. I felt as if I couldn't live without her, and she
felt as if she couldn't live without me, and we were always writing
letters to one another and couldn't keep apart."
"Oh, I never felt anything of that kind, uncle, and I rarely write
letters if I can help it."
"Then you can't be in love," said the major triumphantly.
"But were you really in love, uncle, with Lady Mary--Mary--"
"Callaghan, my dear. Yes."
"But you did not marry her, uncle."
"N-no--no; you are quite right, my dear, I did not. Circumstances
occurred and--er--we were not married. But really, Glynne, my dear, you
are a most extraordinary girl."
"I am very sorry."
"Don't say that, my dear; but--er--I--er--this is a very serious thing,
this promising yourself in marriage, and I--er--I--er--should like you
to be perfectly sure that you are doing wisely. I think a great deal of
you, my dear--old bachelor as I am, and it would trouble me more than I
can say if you did not make a happy match."
"Dear uncle," she said tenderly, as she clasped her hands upon his arm,
and clung to him more closely. "But you need not be afraid, for Robert
says he loves me very dearly, and what more could a woman desire?"
"Humph! No, of course not, my dear," said the major, looking more
perplexed than ever, as he gazed down into the unruffled face by his
side. "Untouched, if I know anything of womankind," he said to himself,
"but if I attempt to interfere I shall be making trouble, and upset Jack
as well. What the devil shall I do?"
There came no mental answer to this self-put question, and the
communings were stopped by Glynne herself, who went on thoughtfully and
in the most matter-of-fact way.
"I told Robert that we must not think of being married for some time to
come, and he said he was glad of that."
"Said he was glad of it!" cried the major, looking at her aghast.
"Yes, uncle, dear. You see he has to make so many engagements
beforehand. His card is quite full for matches of one kind and
another."
"Is it indeed?" said the major sarcastically.
"Yes, uncle. He has to go in training--in training--in training--for,
what did he call it? Oh, I remember; in training for the various
events, and he would not like to break any of them and pay forfeit."
The major's eyes rolled in their sockets, and he seemed to be trying to
swallow something that was extremely unsavoury, but he held his peace.
"He says these engagements take up a great deal of his time; but the
people like him, so that he can't very well get out of them."
"Ah, it would be a pity to disappoint them," said the major, while
Glynne, in her happy, childlike content, did not notice his tone, but
talked on as calmly as if the great event of a woman's life were a most
commonplace affair, justifying to the fullest extent her uncle's idea
that her heart was quite untouched.
They had spent so long over their walk that Sir John had had time to
finish his visit to the pigs, and they all reached the park gates
together.
"Halloa!" he exclaimed, looking inquiringly from one to the other, "so
you two have had a good talk. Here, what does your uncle say, my dear?"
he continued, with a suspicious tone in his voice.
"Uncle? Say?" replied Glynne, opening her beautiful eyes a little
wider. "Oh, uncle has said very little, papa. I'm afraid I have done
nothing but prattle to him all the time."
"What about?" said her father, sharply.
"Oh, principally about my engagement," she replied calmly.
"Well, and what does he say to it?" said Sir John, half-defiantly.
"Uncle thinks it a very serious step."
"Yes, of course."
"And that I ought to be careful in taking it."
"To be sure, my dear, to be sure. Well?"
"Well, that was all, papa," she replied. "Lunch must be ready. I'll go
in and take off my things. You are coming soon? Oh, here is Robert. I
won't stop for fear of keeping you waiting."
The captain was some fifty yards away, but Glynne did not stay. She
merely waved her hand, and hurried to the front of the house, while her
future lord came slowly on, whistling, with his hands in his pockets.
"You've not opposed the match, then?" whispered Sir John.
"No," said the major, "but I think less of it than ever."
"Humph!" ejaculated his brother. "Have you spoken to Rolph yet?"
"No. Haven't seen him."
"Then, for goodness' sake, drop all prejudice, Jem, and shake hands
warmly. You see they are devotedly attached."
"No, I don't," said the major, gruffly; "but I'll shake hands."
"Yes, do, Jem, do. It's the one desire of my life to see Glynne engaged
to a good, manly fellow who cares for her, and, now the opportunity has
come, I look to you to help me."
"Humph!" ejaculated the major, as Rolph came up, and Sir John struck the
iron while it was hot, to use his own form of expression.
"Ready for lunch, Rob?"
"Awfully," said the captain. "Quite an edge on."
"That's right," cried Sir John. "Come along. Oh, look here though," he
added, as if upon second thoughts; "I've had no experience before in
this sort of thing, and I want to get it over, and go on again as usual.
I never do anything without telling the major here."
Rolph bowed, and the major returned his salute stiffly.
"I've been telling him about you know what, and it's all settled now, so
you can shake hands, you know."
"Yes; my brother has told me about your proposal," said the major,
coldly. "You have won a prize, sir, and I wish you joy."
"Thankye, major, thankye," cried Rolph, seizing his hand and shaking it
violently. "You don't want to say anything more to me, do you?"
"N-no," said the major, whose inward thoughts made him look ten years
older. "N-no."
"That's right," cried the captain, with a sigh of relief. "Shall we go
in to lunch now, Sir John?"
"To be sure, yes, my boy. Go on. I daresay Glynne is waiting. Come
along, Jem."