"Wait till he exists to be hated," I said. "You really needn't trouble
about _him_. Perhaps there will never be such a person. Anyway, girls
don't often marry as young as I am, so you can count upon me quite as
securely as I can count upon you."
How lightly we spoke!
"And we shall have a longer time together now, thanks to going to these
baths and places, than since I first went to school, four years ago. So
after all you should count it a compliment to yourself, Rex, that I am
so pleased about it."
Once my father decided upon anything, there was no danger of his letting
the grass grow under his feet, or any one else's, till it was
accomplished. We were then in early autumn; there was no time to be
lost if we were to benefit by the waters of Weissbad. So within a very
few days of the morning which had brought the great doctor's letter of
advice, we found ourselves there--my parents, Moore, and myself, though
father only stayed to see us comfortably installed, promising to return
when the time came for our further move to winter quarters.
I have no intention of describing the quaint little watering-place. It
had its own peculiarities, of course, as every place, no less than every
individual, has, but in a general way it was like scores of others. And
these general characteristics are now-a-days too familiar to be
interesting--now-a-days, when an intimate acquaintance with Western
Europe by no means gives one a right to rank as having travelled to any
noticeable extent.
It was a nice little place, cheery and homely. We liked it better than
we had expected, partly, no doubt, because we were specially favoured as
to weather; partly, or greatly, perhaps I should say, because the
beneficial effects of the place on my mother and brother became quickly
and most satisfactorily visible.
But my peculiar interest in Weissbad, looking back upon it through a
vista of many years as I now do, dates from a certain day, the precursor
of a friendship which has taken rank as one of the great influences on
my life.
It was mother who first drew our attention to certain newcomers into our
little world for the time being. Any arrival was promptly noticed by
that time, as many of the visitors had already left, and but for the
unusually lovely weather, Weissbad would already have been almost
deserted. I remember that day so well.
Moore and I had been a long walk--it was delightful to see how the boy's
strength was returning--and when we came in, we found mother seated as
usual at the wide window of our cheerful little sitting-room overlooking
the "square," with its gardens in the centre, which was the great
feature of the little town. She looked up brightly as we came in--not
that that was in any way remarkable--when did mother not greet us
brightly?--her face full of interest as if she had something pleasant to
tell, which set at rest my fears that our long absence might have made
her anxious.
"I have been amusing myself," she said, "by watching some new arrivals
at this hotel. I saw them first in the courtyard when I was coming in
from my walk, and something about them struck me at once. They looked
so much more interesting than the other people here."
"Are they English?" I asked. "Certainly, the other English here still
are the stupidest of the stupid. Not one young person among them."
I sat down as I spoke, for I was feeling rather tired, and quite ready
for a little gossip.
"Oh, but," said mother, "you won't have to complain of that any more.
Two, at least, are quite young,--sisters evidently, both very pretty,
the younger one especially--she doesn't look much older than you,
Regina--an elderly father, and another man, about thirty I should say,
the brother, or possibly the husband, of the elder girl. I had only a
glimpse of them at first, but since then I have been watching them from
the window. They have been strolling all over the place, peering in at
all the little shops in the square, so delighted with the novelty of
everything evidently, as if they had never been abroad before. _The_
one that took my fancy so specially was the younger one. I never saw a
sweeter face!"
"We must find out who they are," I said; "but you know, mamma, I never
care much about making friends with other girls; I understand boys so
much better."
"And they're so much nicer," added Moore; "girls are so--so affected and
stuck-up, except, of course, Reggie."
We laughed.
"What do you know about them?" I said. "Less even than I!"
"I know what the fellows at school say about their sisters. Of course
they are very fond of them--lots of them, at least--and some of them are
very jolly about games and things like that. But they do sit upon their
brothers all the same. Lots do!"
"Perhaps it is not a very bad thing for the brothers sometimes," said
mother. "I often wish you had had a sister, Regina, or failing that, a
few really nice girl friends. Even _one_ would be a great advantage to
you."
I felt just a little nettled. Dear mother sometimes took up an idea too
enthusiastically, and I did not in those days perhaps sufficiently
appreciate the steady good judgment underlying her apparent
impulsiveness.
"Oh, mamma," I said, "things are all right as they are. I don't want a
sister, and I never have wanted one. And if we make friends with these
people who have struck you so, please let it be in a general way. I
don't want _any_ girl friend?"
"You are certainly very premature?" said mother, smiling. "Probably
enough they are only here for a night on their way somewhere else; and
even if they were staying here, it by no means follows that we should
become acquainted at all, though I own to being unusually attracted by
their faces and general look. There was something pretty about the
whole group."
Mother's gentleness disarmed me, as it always did. I felt a little
ashamed of myself. Nor was I, to tell the truth, devoid of curiosity as
to these newcomers. It is almost laughable to find how, in a
temporarily restricted life, such as one leads at a quiet
watering-place, one's dormant love of gossip and inquisitiveness about
one's neighbours assert themselves!
Yes, there they were! I "spotted" them at once, as Moore would have
said, when we entered the long dining-room, where supper was served at
separate tables to each little party, and in my heart I at once endorsed
mother's opinion. They were all so nice-looking and so happy. The
elder of the two girls--for a girl she looked--I almost immediately
decided must be the wife of the younger man; something indefinable in
his attitude and tone towards her suggesting a husband rather than a
brother. The father, an elderly man, with grey hair, and delicate,
somewhat wasted features, whose expression told of much sorrow, past
rather than present, was not the least attractive of the quartette; his
face lighted up with a charming smile when he spoke to or glanced at his
daughters, both of whom, as mother had said, were decidedly pretty.
No, that is not the word for the younger one; "lovely," suits her far
better, and before I had been five minutes in the same room with her, I
more than endorsed mother's opinion.
"She is perfectly sweet," I thought to myself. "I wonder what her name
is, and I wonder if we shall get to know them. I don't know that I wish
it; I am perfectly sure she would not care for me. I would just seem a
sort of tomboy to her. She looks so dreadfully--just what she should
look! Such dear little white hands!" and I glanced at my own brown
fingers and thought of my sunburnt face, with, for almost the first time
in my life, a touch of shame. After all, perhaps mamma was in the right
in her advocacy of parasols and veils, and above all, gloves!
Then the sound of the voices which reached us from the newcomers' table
struck me with a sense of contrast, not altogether flattering to myself.
The tones were so soft though clear, the slight laughter breaking out
from time to time so gentle though gay, and entirely unaffected.
"Yes," I replied in answer to mother's--"Well, what do you think of
them?"--as we were slowly making our way upstairs again to our own
quarters, "Yes, you were quite right, mamma; they are most
attractive-looking people, and the little one is the prettiest person I
have ever seen. But I don't want to get to know them! They wouldn't
care for us, at least not for me. Of course they would like _you_, and
they would feel bound to be polite to me, which I should hate."
Mother only smiled. She very often only smiled when I began what she
called "working myself up" for no cause at all. But in her heart I
think--indeed she owned to it afterwards--she was not a little pleased
at the impression which she saw had already been made upon me.
"I daresay they'll be gone by to-morrow; I hope they will," said Moore
consolingly. He was always so extraordinarily quick in perceiving any
little thing that annoyed me. "_I_ don't see anything so wonderful
about that girl," he went on; "she is just a dressed-up sort of young
lady. I am perfectly certain she can't play cricket or ride a pony
bare-back like you, Reggie."
"I daresay not," I said. "And I almost wish I couldn't!" I added to
myself rather ruefully.
But to-morrow came and they were not gone, nor apparently had they any
intention of leaving, for we overheard them talking about excursions
they were proposing to make in the neighbourhood, and the words "next
week" occurred more than once.
I felt rather cross and dissatisfied that day, I remember. Perhaps I
had over-walked myself--very probably so; and now and then I caught
mamma's eyes glancing at me with a somewhat perturbed expression.
"Are you not feeling well, Regina?" she said at last, when I had
answered some little question rather snappishly, I fear.
"Of course I am quite well, mother, dear," I replied; "I am only rather
cross, and I don't know why. I would rather you would scold me than
seem anxious about me! Everybody has moods. I--well, yes, perhaps I
was thinking a little about that girl. It must be nice to be so
graceful and charming?"
"My poor, dear child," said mother, "don't distress yourself so
needlessly! You know very well we would rather have our tomboy than any
other girl in the world, though there is no reason why you should not be
graceful and charming too, in your own way. You are very young still;
you have plenty of time before you; but I do feel that it would be a
great help to you, now especially, to have _some_ girl friends."
I was beginning to feel it too, and did not repulse the suggestion, as I
might have done even twenty-four hours previously.
"But it can't be helped," I said; "girl companions haven't come in my
way. You know there are scarcely any young people at all in our
neighbourhood at home."
"I know," said mother regretfully, "and with our having been away so
much, I seem to have rather fallen out of touch with my own old friends,
some of whom have daughters of about your age. I have been thinking a
great deal about it lately."
No more was said at the time, but I still felt far from anxious to make
acquaintance with the new arrivals. The very thought of it overpowered
me with shyness.
Strange to say, the acquaintance was brought about by the only one of us
three who had seen nothing to admire in the pretty sisters.
I think it was on the third day after they had come, that Moore burst
into our room one afternoon, his face rosy with excitement.
"Mother?" he said, "Reggie! I--I really couldn't help it, but--I
couldn't be rude, you know! Those people that you've been talking
about--the girl you think so pretty--well, they were sitting near me
while I was having my afternoon coffee,"--Moore loved of all things to
have his coffee out in the garden by himself at a little table--"and
listening to the band, and I heard them talking about the excursion to
Oberwald, where we went last week, you know, and they were all in a
muddle about it. They wanted to walk part of the way, and they had a
map that they couldn't make out; and at last one of them--the
youngish-looking man, turned to me and said, `If you have been here some
time, perhaps you can explain this route to us,' and of course I could,
and I put them right in a minute. I told them the best way was to drive
to that funny little inn where we had dinner, you remember, and then to
walk the rest up to the view place, and get their carriage again when
they came back; and they thanked me awfully, and--" Here Moore paused at
last, half out of breathlessness, half, I shrewdly suspected, because he
felt a little shy of relating the sequel of his story. "They're not bad
sort of people," he concluded somewhat lamely, "and I think the girl
_is_ rather pretty when you see her close to."
"_Rather_ pretty," I repeated; "why, she's perfectly lovely, my dear
boy. But you haven't finished. What more have you to tell? Did they
invite you to be their guide?"
I spoke jestingly, but, to my surprise, I saw that my words had hit the
mark, for Moore's fair face, which was already flushed with excitement,
grew still redder.
"Not exactly," he said; "but I saw they'd have _liked_ to ask me, so I
said if it would be any good I wouldn't mind going with them--it's
to-morrow they want to go--and--and--that I daresayed my sister would
come too."
"Moore!" I exclaimed, aghast. And "My dear boy!" said mother.
Our exclamations put Moore on the defensive.
"Well," he said, rather indignantly, "I don't see that there's any harm
in it. You've been awfully wanting to know them--"
"I'm sure _I_ haven't," I interrupted.
"Well, any way, you were awfully down on me because I didn't think the
girl was the most beautiful person in the world. And I don't think she
is stuck-up, after all I'm sure you'd like her very much, and they
seemed quite pleased when I said you'd come too--quite jolly about it.
I told them mother couldn't walk so far, and that we had come here
because she'd been ill."
"Indeed! and what did you _not_ tell them?" I said, in an icy tone.
But my heart misgave me as soon as I had uttered the words--Moore looked
so thoroughly unhappy. Mother, as usual, interposed to smooth things
down.
"After all, there is no harm done," she said. "I see no objection to
Moore's going with them, and we can easily make some little excuse for
you, Regina, if it is necessary. To begin with, there would not be room
for so many in the carriage."
"Oh, yes, there would," said Moore, dejectedly. "They're going to have
a much bigger one, which holds five inside and one on the box--or even
two--by the driver. And the girl looked so pleased when I said you'd
come. _I_ shall feel as ashamed as anything if you don't; I know that,
Reggie."
I had not the heart to tell him it was his own fault, and mother just
said to him that he might trust her to put it all right. So in a minute
or two he brightened up again, and it seemed as if the matter were at an
end.
It was not so, however. When a thing is to be, it often seems as if
even the most trivial events conspire to lead up to it. So it was in
this case.
At supper that evening Moore turned his chair, so that he--or at least
his face--should not be visible by his new acquaintances. I was sorry
for him; he was feeling rather "small" and mortified, I could see, and I
wished I had not snubbed his boyish officiousness so unmercifully. I
had almost arrived at the point of hoping that some occasion would offer
itself for endorsing his friendly overtures, when my glance fell on an
envelope lying--hitherto unnoticed--by my plate, and I realised by a
flash of inspiration that here in my hands was the very opportunity I
had been thinking of.