MRS. CHUDLEIGH MAKES A FRESH ATTEMPT
Next evening Challoner and Greythorpe dined at Foster's with several
other guests, and the Colonel was placed next to Mrs. Chudleigh, while
Mrs. Keith sat opposite. He found his position uncomfortable, because
when he looked up he saw that his old friend was watching him, and,
though she chatted carelessly, there was now and then a hint of tension
in his companion's manner. It was a relief when Mrs. Foster rose, but
he afterwards felt that opposing influences were being brought to bear
on him. When the party dispersed, as was usual at Hazlehurst, some to
play billiards and some to the drawing-room, Mrs. Keith engaged him in
casual talk and stuck to him determinedly for a time. He had no doubt
that her intentions were good, since he noticed Mrs. Chudleigh hovering
in the background, but he wished that she would leave him alone. By
and by their hostess took Mrs. Keith away, but then Millicent, whom he
suspected had been told to do so, came up and spoke to him. It looked
as if he were to be saved from his persecutor, even against his will,
for he was anxious to meet her and get the unpleasant business over,
but he liked Millicent and courtesy demanded that he should listen.
Presently she rather hesitatingly mentioned his nephew.
"Have you heard anything from Mr. Blake since he left Montreal?"
"Nothing," said Challoner with a trace of grimness. "He does not
correspond with me."
"Then I suppose you don't know where he is?"
"I took some trouble to find out, but nothing came of it. I merely
learned that he had left a small settlement on the Western prairie and
started for the North." He gave her a sharp glance. "Are you
interested in my nephew?"
"Yes," she said frankly. "I don't know him very well, but on two
occasions he came to my assistance when I needed it. He was very
tactful and considerate."
"Then he's fortunate in gaining your good opinion. No doubt, you know
something about his history?"
"I daresay my good opinion is not worth much, but I feel that he
deserves it, in spite of what I've been told about him," she answered
with a blush. "It is very sad that he should have to give up all he
valued, and I thought there was something gallant in his cheerfulness;
he was always ready with a jest."
"Have you met his companion? I understand that he is not a man of my
nephew's stamp."
Millicent smiled. "Hardly so, from your point of view."
"Does that mean that yours is not the same as mine?"
"I have had to earn my living, which changes one's outlook; perhaps I'd
better not say enlarges it. However, you shall judge. Mr. Harding is
a traveller for an American paint factory and had to begin work at an
age when your nephew was at Eton, but I think him a very fine type.
He's serious, courteous, and sanguine, and seems to have a strong
confidence in his partner."
"Ah!" said Challoner; "that is not so strange. The Blakes have a way
of inspiring trust and liking. It's a gift of theirs."
"Your nephew undoubtedly has it. He uses it unconsciously, but I think
that those who trust him are not deceived."
Challoner regarded her with a curious expression. "After all," he
said, "that may be true."
Then Greythorpe came up in search of Millicent, and when she went away
with him Challoner saw Mrs. Chudleigh approaching. Obeying her sign he
followed her to a seat in the recess in the hall.
"Mr. Greythorpe came down yesterday," she said. "I suppose you have
already had a talk with him."
"Last night. As you anticipated, he asked my opinion about the African
matter. Several names have been submitted; trustworthy men."
"Come to the point," she told him sharply. "What did you do about
Captain Sedgwick?"
Challoner gravely met her insistent gaze. "I felt compelled to suggest
that he was not the best man for the post."
Mrs. Chudleigh's eyes sparkled and the blood swept into her face. Her
pose grew tense and she looked dangerous, but with an obvious effort
she controlled her anger.
"Then if I were a revengeful person, I would warn you that you must
take the consequences."
"I suppose that follows, but I would prefer to think you are fair
enough to make allowances for a man who tried to do the right thing in
a difficult situation."
She was silent for a moment, watching him with a curious, half-ashamed
feeling. Then she made an abrupt movement.
"It's hard to do so. A word or two, which you would not speak, would
have led to the appointment of the most talented man. I'm not a saint;
you mustn't expect a higher standard from me than I'm capable of."
She dismissed him with an angry gesture and got up as Mrs. Foster came
in with Greythorpe. When the latter left his hostess she beckoned him
and led him to a seat near the hearth.
"How far does Colonel Challoner's opinion go with you?" she asked
boldly.
"That depends," he answered, smiling. "On some matters it goes a long
way."
"On the choosing of a West African officer, for instance?"
"Ah!" said Greythorpe, "now I begin to understand. If I am not
indiscreet in mentioning it, I thought my old friend was rather in
disgrace with you."
"You are keen," she told him. "I must warn you that Challoner is
prejudiced."
"If that is so, there is probably a reason for it."
"There is," she said coolly. "I'm afraid it is my fault. I made a
mistake in trying to force the Colonel to speak in favour of one of the
candidates."
"It was unwise," Greythorpe agreed. "Our friend is by no means
amenable to treatment of the kind."
"Still you would not let a good officer suffer because of my
tactlessness?"
"Certainly not; the only thing that could count against any of the men
we are considering is some shortcoming of their own."
"Then I must try to remove a wrong impression and my task is difficult
because you know Challoner better than I do. We can, however, agree
that he is honest."
"Eminently conscientious," Greythorpe remarked.
"Then you must allow for a reaction against the injudicious course I
took. I urged him to speak for a friend of mine, which was, no doubt,
very wrong, and it seems I went too far. Can you not imagine his
resenting it and being so determined not to be influenced that he
became hypercritical?"
Greythorpe thought this clever, since it was the best means of
lessening the value of Challoner's opinion that she could use.
"I gather that you put too severe a strain upon his friendship."
"I'm afraid there's a breach between us now, but that is not the point."
"No," said Greythorpe. "In a general way, your reasoning is logical,
but I hardly think it applicable to Challoner. He might resent your
action; but it would not make him unjust. I presume the man you favour
is Captain Sedgwick?"
"He's much the best of the three you have in view."
"Then you know something about the matter? We thought it was secret."
She laughed. "Secrets are not always well kept. I know the other men,
and though there is nothing that can be urged against their character,
they are plodders, men of routine, without much foresight or
enterprise."
"Allowing that you are right, isn't there something to be said for the
steady plodder?"
"I daresay he's useful," Mrs. Chudleigh agreed with a touch of scorn.
"But for the vacant post you want a bold determined man who can see
ahead."
"To some extent, I must agree. You believe Captain Sedgwick is such a
man?"
He felt a certain tempered admiration for her. She made no secret of
her aim, though he supposed she must find it embarrassing to plead for
her lover, since he did not doubt that she loved Sedgwick. She had
courage and cleverness and he listened with close attention while she
spoke about the man's exploits and abilities. Then she looked up with
an eagerness which somewhat moved him.
"Have I convinced you?" she asked.
Greythorpe smiled. "That Sedgwick is a dashing and intrepid soldier?
Yes. But there are other points to take into account, and the matter
does not entirely rest with me. Still, I think if he serves us well,
we may find some use for him."
It was a guarded promise and by no means all that she desired, but she
knew she must be content with it.
"Then I have accomplished something and will remember the consideration
and patience you have shown," she said, and when some of the other
guests came in moved away to join them.
In the meanwhile, Millicent had been sitting alone for a few minutes at
the opposite end of the hall. Somebody was singing in the adjoining
drawing-room, the door of which stood open, and she could see several
people gathered about the piano, though she was herself partly secluded
by a screen. By and by Lieutenant Walters came in, and as he made his
way towards her after looking round she felt tempted to change her
place, but could not do so without making her retreat too marked. Now
and then he suffered from a relapse, and she felt compassionate as she
noticed the heaviness of his movements and his pinched expression.
Still his eyes had been eager as he searched the room, and this had
caused her some alarm, because he had lately shown a noticeable
preference for her society. When he stopped he laid his hand, as if
for support, on the back of a chair and glanced towards a window that
opened into the conservatory.
"I've been hanging about since dinner trying to get hold of you, but
you were in too great demand," he said. "Shall we slip out to the seat
among the palms yonder for a quiet talk?"
The conservatory looked inviting with the coloured lamps hanging among
the flowers and screens of trailing plants throwing their shadows
across warm, scented nooks. Walters, however, had framed his question
injudiciously, because it implied a mutual desire to escape observation
and confidential relations which did not exist.
"I think not," said Millicent. "I may be wanted."
"Mrs. Keith's talking to Challoner and won't ask for you," Walters
objected. "Be good-natured; it's quiet yonder. That fellow in the
drawing-room can't sing and the piano makes my head ache."
"It really oughtn't to. The girl who's accompanying him plays well,
but I'm afraid you're not feeling very fit to-night."
"I'm not; I suppose it's weak, but when I seem to be going back instead
of picking up, I get depressed. That's partly why I came for you; you
know how to cheer one."
"I feel flattered," Millicent rejoined, smiling. "But you shouldn't be
downcast. You're making excellent progress."
"Oh! well," he said irritably, "don't let us talk about my ailments;
I'm tired of them. But this light's glaring. Take pity on me and come
in among the flowers, where it's quiet and dim."
Millicent was tempted to agree. She liked the man and felt sorry for
him; he was frank, rather handsome, and generally a pleasant companion,
but she thought their friendship was ripening too fast and was not
prepared to see it change to something deeper Indeed, since it was
pleasant to be sought after, she feared she had allowed herself to
drift too far, and now the time to pull up had come.
"No," she said, "I must stay here."
He looked at her rather hard, for there was decision in her tone and he
was not dull. She was very attractive; he liked her thoughtful
expression and her gentle firmness. Half-consciously he compared her
with the highly polished, clever woman, who had at first fascinated
him, and his appreciation of the girl grew stronger. Mrs. Chudleigh,
who did not improve upon close acquaintance, had been inclined to leave
him alone of late, and though he could not resent this he had an
unflattering suspicion that he had somehow been made use of and had
served his turn. Miss Graham was different; she was genuine, which was
the word that occurred to him, and he was growing fond of her.
"As you wish, of course," he said. "Am I allowed to remain?"
She indicated a place on the corner seat and when he took it began to
talk, carefully avoiding any personal topic, but after a time he
interrupted her--
"I heard Mrs. Keith say she was going to the Vivians in Durham later.
I suppose she will take you?"
Millicent said she believed so, and he continued: "It's possible I may
turn up there."
He watched her closely, but could see nothing that suggested
satisfaction.
"Do you know the people?" she inquired.
"I used to know Herbert Vivian, though I haven't seen him for some
time. No doubt, if he got a hint he'd ask me down."
"It's a high, bleak place," said Millicent. "We were nearly frozen on
our last visit, and I'm afraid you wouldn't find the cold good for you.
Were you not recommended to stay in Devonshire?"
Walters gave her a half-indignant glance. "When that brute of a hill
man knocked me out I'd no suspicion how much his shot would cost me.
Anyhow, I'm not going to Devonshire, and I ventured to think you might
have been glad to see me at the Vivians'."
"Why should I wish you to do an unwise thing?" Millicent asked.
"That's an evasion," he answered bluntly. "I'll be candid. This place
won't be the same after you have gone."
Millicent was silent a moment. She knew he wanted a tacit admission
that their acquaintance need not end with her visit to Hazlehurst, but
he would be right in attaching some significance to her action if she
made it. The man, who had only known her a few weeks, could go no
further yet, and he was eminently likeable, but she would not lead him
on.
"That," she said, "was very nice of you, but you will soon get used to
the change."
"You may," he replied with rather bitter humour.
"After all," said Millicent, "one meets pleasant people here and there,
and though one regrets it has to part from them."
Looking at her fixedly, he understood. Her expression was quietly
resolute, and he recognized that their friendship must shortly come to
an end. The girl knew her mind and had obviously made it up.
"Well," he said in a resigned tone, "you won't be forgotten. I must
get back to India as soon as I can."
By and by he went away and Mrs. Keith joined Millicent.
"What have you been saying to Walters?" she asked. "I met him going
out, and he looked very crestfallen."
"He hinted that he might follow us to the Vivians' and I suggested that
it was too cold a place for him," Millicent answered with a blush.
"I see," remarked Mrs. Keith, who was sometimes blunt. "Well, I
daresay you were wise; though I'm told he'll be captain shortly, and he
has his good points, Jimmy is no catch. You certainly might do better."
Millicent turned her head, half-indignant, half-embarrassed, and Mrs.
Keith laughed.
"My dear," she resumed gently, "I'm glad you have some sense. It's
perhaps not impossible for the wife of a young Indian officer to live
upon her husband's pay, but unless they're exceptional people it's apt
to lead to disaster."
"It wasn't that," Millicent protested, unwilling to be suspected of a
mercenary mind, and Mrs. Keith's eyes twinkled.
"Then what was it that influenced you?"
As the girl did not answer, she turned away and left her to face the
question. It proved troublesome, for Millicent was not daunted by
poverty and could find no fault with Walters; indeed, she was sensible
of some esteem for him. Then, though she would not admit that this was
her reason for checking his advances, her thoughts centred on another
man. He was in disgrace, but she remembered how chivalrously and
adroitly he had come to her rescue in London and had again been of
assistance on the St. Lawrence steamer. He was prompt in action,
pitiful and humorous. She remembered his gay buoyancy, she could
imagine his facing his troubles with a laugh. It was characteristic of
him that he had gone up into the wilds of the frozen North with an
inexperienced companion on a rash search for fortune, which she
gathered would probably elude him. Still, she knew that he would
struggle gallantly against the perils and hardships he might have to
face. Then she remembered that by sitting alone with an abstracted air
she might excite curiosity, and rousing herself, went to look for her
hostess.