"You put things so baldly! Can't you see for yourself that nobody has
any chance--yet? Your Claudia is launched on a career; it mayn't be a
big one, but for concentration and determination, or any other
five-syllabled things, commend me to a young woman on a career. She
hasn't a thought to fling on anything else."
"It won't last," he said stubbornly.
"That's the first gleam of intelligence you've shown. No, it won't
last, because there are tendencies, eternal tendencies, in us, which
decline to be ignored, and one day she will have to face them. But not
yet."
"Fenwick gets on with her a lot better than I do," remarked Harry, with
apparent inconsequence.
There was a pause.
"He has more experience," she said lightly.
"Ah, you don't like him, you don't do him justice. He's an awfully
clever fellow, quite different from the Johnnies she'd generally meet.
It's natural she should prefer him." He spoke dejectedly, and she
laughed.
"I've never set you up on a pinnacle for admiration, have I? It _is_
quite natural, only it isn't the case. He may be occupied with her,"
she added a little bitterly, "but at present she's taken up with
herself."
Harry fired.
"Oh, you women! Now, I call it an awfully plucky thing to break away
and strike out a line for herself."
"Oh, so do I," said Helen, with a sigh of unexpected meekness. "It's
like bicycling--a splendid prerogative of youth. All that I'm trying to
impress upon you is that while it lasts, it's absorbing. And much
gratitude I get!"
"Oh, I'm grateful. Only--"
"What?"
"You're clever, and you laugh at everything, until it's a bit hard to
find out what you mean. I wonder why you say all this?"
"For old acquaintance sake," she said quickly and kindly. "When things
become serious I'm not such a bad sort."
"And you'll really be on my side?"
"Of course I will. Let me see the _menu_, and don't cheer up so
preposterously. What I want you to realise is that nothing, no one, can
be of any use just now. I don't expect you to believe me, and you'll
probably rush in and blunder the whole affair; I only warn you that if
you're wise you'll give your young woman time to trip along cheerfully
on her career, and to find out for herself that it isn't all she
expected. And I'm afraid, I'm very much afraid, this may cost you more
lime trees."
"I don't care a hang what it costs!"
"You mustn't use bad words, or I shall have your mother down on me."
His spirits rose.
"You haven't told me what you think I'd better do."
"Where's the use, when you'll do the contrary? My endeavour will be to
introduce a little common sense on your side, and a little romance on
hers. Be thankful for one thing."
"What?"
"That she's not a market-gardener. Market-gardening excludes romance.
I defy you to make any running over a lot of cabbages. Now, trees, dewy
lawns, grass rides--upon my word, they should have possibilities. Don't
get cross. I'm quite serious." Something interrupted, but before
dinner was ended, Harry, who had apparently been storing observations,
said in a low voice--
"I say, do you expect me to look on and see Fenwick make all the
running?"
There was another momentary hesitation on Miss Arbuthnot's part before
she said with a groan--
"Oh, the density of the male mind! Won't you understand that all Miss
Hamilton's aspirations are bound up in that pocket-book to which I see
her refer when she has got rid of you all? On the day the pocket-book
disappears, I shall hope for you. Meanwhile, minister to her career;
that is the best you can do, and all you can do. And it is so funny,
that you ought to be extremely obliged to me for treating it seriously."
He looked at her and laughed, and showed his trust in her discernment by
avoiding Claudia for some days almost too pointedly. He rode away each
morning and did not come back for hours, buried himself in the study
with his father, or took Fenwick off to the next town. Mrs Hilton
became uneasy for the amusement of her guests, and it was in vain that
her son assured her they preferred being left to their own devices.
Helen was tired after a London rush.
"I am not talking about Helen," she said almost fretfully. "She is very
well able to look after herself. And Ruth can make herself at home
anywhere. But there is little Miss Hamilton."
"Take my word for it, mother, she likes to go her own way."
"My dear, you can't know about a young girl, and I am so afraid she
thinks we may consider her to be in a sort of derogatory position here.
I do wish you would let me explain to her, poor thing, that we are
delighted to have her, and that she can do just as she likes if it's any
amusement to her. I was afraid you might be vexed about the trees, but
if you and your father are satisfied, it is all quite right."
Harry laughed.
"Oh, she doesn't in the least suppose she's doing anything derogatory.
Things are changed in these days, mother, and Miss Hamilton wants you to
understand that her being here is a simple matter of business." Mrs
Hilton lifted her hands helplessly.
"My dear Harry, it can't be! Of course if the poor girl is so sadly
poor--"
"She isn't."
"--Or if she has taken it into her head to amuse herself."
"Don't let her hear you!"
"One would do everything one possibly could. But you can't expect me to
have a pretty young creature like that here, and not try to make it
pleasant for her, and we all know what girls like, and how pleased they
are with attention, poor things! I really think, Harry, she ought not
to be left so much alone."
He dug his hands into his hair, and laughed again--not quite naturally.
"Well, we'll see."
But though he said little, his heart was leaping. Women were women all
the world over, and why should not his mother be as right as Helen
Arbuthnot? Might he not in these last days have been playing the fool,
and losing ground? It suddenly struck him--and he flushed at the
thought--that he had been wanting in pluck, hanging back, and letting
Captain Fenwick amuse himself--for he knew him well enough to be
convinced that he meant nothing more. He jumped up, and went to a
window which overlooked the small French garden. Beyond it the ground
swept softly upwards towards a belt of fine trees, and beneath them
Claudia was standing bare-headed, her hands clasped behind her. Harry
looked, hesitated, turned away, and turned again. It was too much.
Helen Arbuthnot and her counsels of prudence were flung on one side, he
put his hand on the window-sill and vaulted out, enthusiastically
followed by Vic and Venom, the terriers.
Claudia had been working for an hour with profound satisfaction to
herself. Perhaps she had never been so happy in her life as in these
last days at Thornbury. The sense of importance, the freedom from
control, the range of ever-extending possibilities, were delightful, but
beyond and above these causes for satisfaction there was the joy of
youth, and a freshness which is its pleasant attribute, and puts it into
delightful harmony with open-air nature. For the present it was as Miss
Arbuthnot had divined; she needed nothing else, and would resent an
unwelcome intrusion of disturbing elements. It was no less true that at
some near time, and possibly at an unexpected moment, this tranquillity
might be shattered, but by whom and when was as yet a problem. Was it
by Harry, who now came towards her, walking as quickly as if he had just
successfully accomplished the aim of a day's search? She put up her
hand.
"Two hundred feet by thirty," she remarked meditatively.
"How are you getting on? Don't you want something? Mayn't I come and
help?" He put the questions breathlessly.
"Please don't interrupt. At last I do think I have got the proportions
right."
"But I shan't interfere with them?"
"You do rather." She glanced at him with a laugh of which she
immediately had the grace to feel ashamed. Harry's proportions might
not be the best in the world, but she liked him very much indeed, and
owed him kindliness. "You may stay if you won't interrupt."
"I won't."
"Then, look here," she said. "I'm going to sacrifice all these low
shrubs, straighten that curve, cut down two or three unimportant trees,
and--do you know what will come of it?"
"Not in the least," he said with his eyes on her.
"Guess."
"I can't."
She reflected impatiently that he was really dreadfully dense.
"You will see the Marldon hills."
"Really?" What did he care for all the hills in the country?
"Yes, really," she exclaimed triumphantly. "I thought it might be so,
and I have proved it. Why, it will be the most beautiful view in the
whole neighbourhood, and I don't think any one could have believed it
possible."
Her eyes sparkled enthusiastically, her hat lay on the ground before
her, and the wind tossed her dark hair. Harry looked at her,
worshipping, with a sudden contempt for Miss Arbuthnot. What did his
heart tell him? What was earth and air crying out? What were the birds
singing? Love--love--love--and he--he only--must remain dumb, dull,
cowardly. His voice shook with the effort he made to keep back the
universal cry.
"Aren't you tired? St--stop for a little while," he stammered.
If she had been thinking of him, or even if her mind had been taken up
less with her own interests, she could not have failed to notice
something hoarse and strained in his voice, but she heard nothing.
"Not exactly tired," she said lightly; "but perhaps--well, I do feel
that I have done a good morning's work, and I am glad, because when this
is finished, I must be going on."
"Going on! What for?" he exclaimed so abruptly that this time she
looked at him in surprise. But she did not see, and laughed.
"Why, to work, of course. Thornbury is a fascinating old place."
"You like it?" he interrupted eagerly.
"Of course I do." She felt she owed him a tribute. "I can't tell you
how much I have enjoyed what I have done here, but--one comes to an end.
You don't want me to cut down all your trees, do you?"
With that his head whirled.
"Sit down," he said, pointing to a fallen trunk on which she had already
experimented, and Claudia, still unsuspecting, seated herself, pushing
back her hair with both hands--a trick she had.
"I suppose I am rather tired, after all, and certainly hot," she
allowed, drawing a deep breath; "but what delightful work it is!"
"You've really enjoyed it?"
"Of course I have, and you have let me alone, which people can't
understand is what one wants. I am going next to a place called
Huntingdon Hall. Friends of Captain Fenwick have got it, and he says it
requires putting to rights terribly, and they haven't an idea how to set
about it. I have heard from Lady Wilmot and have sent her my terms. I
expect it will be quite straight sailing. Captain Fenwick says so."
He scarcely heard. Love, love, love--everything was singing it
tumultuously.
"Claudia!" he cried.