TÊTE-À-TÊTE.
'How extraordinary!' exclaimed Gladys. 'Your cousin is in the library,
why does he not come up?'
There was something so matter-of-fact in the question, that Mrs. Fordyce
and her daughters could not refrain from exchanging glances.
'Well, my dear, I suppose he does not come up because he wishes to have
you a little while to himself,' said Mrs. Fordyce, with a smile, 'and I
must say I quite sympathise with him. Run away down, and don't stay too
long; tell him not to be selfish.'
'But I don't think I want to go down. It is so strange, I think, for him
not to come up here as usual. Why should there be any difference made?'
inquired Gladys, as she rose with seeming reluctance to her feet.
'It is you who are strange, I think,' said Mina whimsically. 'You would
require a very cool lover, Gladys, you are so cool yourself.'
'It is a pity one must have a lover,' said Gladys quite soberly, as she
walked out of the room.
'Girls,' said Mrs. Fordyce, 'Gladys is an enigma, and I give her up; she
is so different from any one I have ever met. Do you really think she
cares anything for your cousin?'
'If she doesn't, why has she promised to marry him?' inquired Clara
rather quickly. 'I think it is rather absurd to ask the question.'
'Well, I must say I should not particularly like to be in his shoes,'
said Mina; and added, with light sarcasm, 'But it will do dear George
good. Gladys will not fall down and worship him, like the rest of her
sex. How I should like to be invisible at this moment in the library.'
But though Mina had had her wish she would not have seen anything very
exciting, the greeting which passed between Gladys and her lover being
remarkably cool. George Fordyce was not quite himself. Had Gladys been
more absorbingly interested in him she could not have failed to observe
the furtive look of anxiety with which he advanced to meet her; his
demeanour was as different from the ordinary eagerness of a
newly-accepted lover as could well be imagined. Nor did she betray these
signs of maidenly shyness and trembling joy which in the circumstances
she might have been expected to feel.
'Good-evening,' she said gaily. 'Why did you not come up, instead of
sending a message to me, as if you were a person asking a subscription?
I thought it so odd.'
George's courage rose. The gay unconcern of her demeanour convinced him
that as yet nothing had lowered him in her estimation; with a little
careful diplomacy, the dangerous currents might yet be avoided, and all
go well.
'Is it so odd that I should wish to have you for a little while to
myself?' he asked, and, putting his arm round her shoulders, took the
kiss she could not deny him, though she almost immediately drew herself
away.
'Do come up to the drawing-room. Why should we stay down here? Don't you
think it rather silly?'
'I don't care whether it is silly or not,' he answered daringly. 'I
don't mean to go up, or allow you to leave this room, for a good half
hour at least.'
Gladys laughed a little, and dropped on one knee on a stool before the
quaint fireplace, where the logs burned and crackled in a cheerful
blaze.
'And I have a crow to pick with you, madam,' said the lover, made bolder
by the perfect freedom of the girl's demeanour. 'I don't like
second-hand messages. You might at least have sent me a nice little note
by the hand of Aunt Isabel this afternoon.'
'I didn't think of it, or I might,' answered Gladys quite soberly, and
the ruddy firelight lay warm and bright on her sweet face, and gave a
deeper tinge to the gold of her hair. As George Fordyce stood as near to
her as he dared, being deterred by a certain high dignity in her
bearing, he was struck, not only by the perfect beauty of her features,
but by the singular firmness mingling with the archness of her look.
Twelve months had done a great deal for Gladys, and there was nothing of
the child left, though the new womanliness was a most gracious and
lovely thing.
'I had such a busy morning down town; and oh, I have a great deal to
tell you, only you must promise to be sympathetic, because I have had a
great deal to bear to-day, and have almost quarrelled with your aunt and
the girls.'
'Yes?' he said, with all the fine indifference he could command. 'And
what was it all about?'
He knew it must come sooner or later, and braced himself up to carry
matters through with as high a hand as possible.
'About that poor girl of whom I told you, Lizzie Hepburn. She has come
back, looking so very ill and unhappy, and of course I asked her down to
Bourhill, and your aunt and cousins are so vexed about it, I am quite
puzzled. It is so unlike them to blame one for wishing to be kind.
Please, can you explain it?'
She raised her eyes to his face with something of the old child-like
wistfulness in their depths, and it showed George Fordyce to be a very
clever man indeed that he was able to meet that clear gaze without
flinching.
'Well, you see, dear, I think it is regard for you which made Aunt
Isabel appear a little harsh. She knows the world, and you do not, and,
you know, a young and lovely girl, living without natural protectors, as
you are, cannot be too careful.'
'Oh, that is just how they talk,' she cried petulantly, 'but it does not
convey any meaning to me. Why should I not be kind to this poor girl?
She can't eat me, or hurt me in the smallest degree. You must make it a
great deal plainer to me before I see the smallest particle of reason in
it.'
Here was a dilemma! The very irony of fate could not have devised a more
trying and awkward position for any man. To say he felt himself on the
brink of a volcano conveys but a faint idea of his peculiar state of
mind.
'My own darling, it is extremely difficult to make it any clearer
without giving offence, but I think you ought to have some idea of what
is fitting. Can you not believe that we, who love you so dearly, would
advise you to do nothing but what is right and best for you?'
This admirable plea, so earnestly and persuasively uttered, somewhat
touched Gladys, though her face still wore a perplexed and even troubled
look.
'Well, but how can it do me any harm to have these girls at Bourhill? Is
it because they are poor that I must not have them?'
'Well, not exactly; though, of course, it is not customary for young
ladies like you to invite such people to be your guests just in the same
way as you would invite Clara or Mina; and I question very much, dear,
if it is any real kindness to them, it is so apt to make them
discontented with their own sphere.'
This was another clever stroke, this view of the case not having been as
yet presented to Gladys. Hitherto the talk had all been of the influence
such companionship was likely to have on her, and the new phase of the
situation made her more thoughtful still.
'I never thought of that,' she said slowly, 'and I don't think it had
that effect on Christina Balfour--in fact, I am sure of it. She is like
a different creature, so much brighter and happier; and I am sure a week
or two at Bourhill will do wonders for poor Lizzie Hepburn. If you saw
her you would be quite sorry for her. She is such an interesting girl,
so beautiful, and she has a great deal of character, quite different
from Christina. I have asked them down, and of course I can't retract my
invitations; they may have gone down to Miss Peck already, for aught I
know. Promise to come down to Bourhill and see poor Lizzie, then I am
sure you will say I have done quite right.'
A cold sweat broke over George Fordyce, and he was fain to take several
turns between the window and the door to recover himself. He could
almost have laughed aloud at the awful absurdity of the whole situation,
only it had its tragic side too. He felt that his chance was almost
over. He could not expect Liz Hepburn's visit to Bourhill to be barren
of consequences the most serious; but he would wear the mask as long as
possible, and make one more endeavour to save himself. He came back to
the hearth, and, laying his hand hurriedly on the heart of the girl he
loved with all the tenderness that was in him, he said, in that
pleading, winning way so few women could resist,--
'My darling, if I ask you, won't you take Aunt Isabel's advice? I know I
haven't any right yet to dictate to you, even if I wished to do it, but
won't you believe that we only advise what is the very best for you?
Couldn't you, instead of having the girls at Bourhill, send them to some
other country place? It would only cost a very little more.'
'But that wouldn't be the same thing at all,' said Gladys wilfully. 'And
if I were to retract my invitation now, they would never have the same
faith in me again. I would not on any account disappoint them.'
'Even to please me?' he queried, with a slightly injured air.
'Even to please you,' she repeated, in the same wilful tone.
'And will it always be the same?' he asked then. 'Will you never allow
me to have any say in your affairs?'
'I hoped you would help me to do good to people,' she said slowly,
giving utterance for the first time to the feeling of disappointment and
misgiving which sometimes oppressed her when she thought of her relation
towards George Fordyce.
'My dear, you will get all your thanks in one day,' he said dryly. 'I
know the class you have to deal with. They'll take all you have to give
them, and laugh in your face. They have no such quality as gratitude in
them.'
Gladys curled her lips in scorn.
'How unhappy you must be to have so little faith in humankind. That has
not been my experience; but we shall never agree on that point. Shall we
go up-stairs now?'
Her perfect independence of and indifference to his opinion, betrayed in
the careless ease of her manner as she rose from the hearth, exasperated
him not a little.
'No, I am not coming up-stairs,' he answered, as rudely as he dared.
'What shall I say to Mrs. Fordyce, then? That you are out of temper?'
she asked, with a sly gaiety which became her well, though it only
further exasperated him.
'You can say anything you like, I am very sorry indeed that my opinion
is of so little value in your eyes, Gladys, and I ask your pardon if I
have presumed too much in offering you a crumb of advice.'
'Oh, don't be cross because we don't happen to agree on that particular
point,' she said sunnily. 'Each individual is surely entitled to his
opinion. I am not cross because you would not agree with me. Come away
up-stairs.'
'No, I'm not coming up to-night. Make my apologies to them. Gladys, upon
my word, you are perfectly bewitching. I wish you knew how passionately
I love you. I don't believe you care a tithe as much for me as I do for
you.'
He would have held her again, but she moved away from him, and her face
did not brighten as it ought to have done at such a lover-like speech.
'Will you promise me one thing, Gladys, before I go?' he pleaded, and he
had never been more in earnest in his life. 'Promise me that if anybody
speaks ill of me to you, you will at least give me a chance to clear
myself before you condemn me.'
'Oh, I can promise that fast enough, because nobody ever speaks ill of
you to me. It is quite the reverse, I assure you. I have to listen to
your praises all day long,' she said, with a teasing smile. 'You ought
to show your gratitude for such disinterested kindness by coming up to
the ladies.'
'I'm not going up to-night,' he reiterated. 'Give them my kind regards.
Are you really off?'
'I must, if you won't come.'
He held open the door for her, and as she passed out, stole another kiss
with all a lover's passion, telling himself it might be the last. But it
did not make her pulses thrill nor her heart beat more quickly, and she
saw him depart without a regret.
'You don't mean to say that is George away?' they cried, when the outer
hall door closed, and almost immediately Gladys entered the drawing-room
alone.
'Yes, he has gone,' Gladys answered calmly.
'What have you been doing to him to set him off like that?' asked Mina.
'Have you had a quarrel?'
'No,' replied Gladys innocently; 'but I think he is rather cross.'
Mrs. Fordyce shook her finger reprovingly at the girl, and said
regretfully,--
'My dear, you are incorrigible. I could almost regret Henrietta
Bonnemain's marriage, because she is the only woman in this world who
could have managed you.'
[Illustration]