"Bai Jove, seems a strange thing!" said Max Bray at breakfast-time,
about a week after the events recorded in the last chapter--"seems a
strange thing you women can't settle anything without showing your
teeth!"
"You women, indeed! Max, how can you talk so vulgarly!" exclaimed
Laura.
And then there was silence, for Ella Bedford entered the breakfast-room
with her charges.
Strange or not, there had been something more than a few words that
morning in the breakfast-room between Mrs Bray and her daughter,
concerning a croquet-party to come off that afternoon upon the Elms
lawn. As for Mr Bray, he had taken no part in the discussion,
"shutting-up"--to use his son's words--"like an old gingham umbrella,
bai Jove!"
However, hostilities ceased upon the appearance of Ella with the
children; and Mrs Bray, after shrieking for the tea-caddy, sat down to
the urn, and the morning meal commenced.
"Of course, mamma," said Laura suddenly, "you won't think of having the
children on the lawn?"
"O, I daresay, miss!" cried Nelly, firing up. "Just as if we're to be
set aside when there's anything going on! Charley Vining says I play
croquet just twice as well as you can; and I know he's coming to-day on
purpose to see me!" she added maliciously.
Mr Bray shook his head at her, and Ella slightly raised one finger; but
as she made a rule of never correcting her charges when father or mother
was present, she did not speak.
"Hold your tongue, you pert child!" exclaimed Laura, with a toss of the
head. "You'll let Miss Bedford keep them in the schoolroom, of course,
mamma?"
"Indeed, I don't see why they should not have a game as well as their
sister!" shrieked Mrs Bray, from behind the urn; for after the
hostilities of that morning mamma would not budge an inch.
The breakfast ended, Nelly ran round to give Mrs Bray a sounding kiss,
and then danced after her sisters and their governess into the
schoolroom.
"There, hooray! Beaten her!" shouted Nelly, clapping her hands. "I
knew what she meant, Miss Bedford. She didn't want you to be on the
lawn and come and play; and now she's beaten, and serve her right too!
She's afraid Charley Vining will take more notice of you than he does of
her, and I shall tell him."
"My dear Nelly!" exclaimed Ella, with a look of pain on her countenance;
when her wild young charge dropped demurely into a seat, and began to
devour French irregular verbs at a tremendous rate, working at them
thoroughly hard, and, having a very retentive memory, making some
progress.
These were Ella's happiest moments; for, in spite of their roughness,
the three girls in her charge, one and all, evinced a liking for her;
and save at times, when she broke out into a thorough childish fit,
Nelly grew hourly more and more womanly under her care. But Ella was
somewhat troubled respecting the afternoon's meeting, and would gladly
have spent the time in solitude, for it was plain enough that she was to
be present solely out of opposition to Laura; and in spite of all her
efforts, it seemed that she was to grow daily more distasteful to the
dark beauty, who openly showed her dislike before Ella had been in the
house a week.
However, the schoolroom studies made very little progress that morning;
for before long Mrs Bray entered to give orders respecting dress,
sending Nelly into ecstasies as she cast her book aside; and at three
o'clock that afternoon, as Laura swept across the lawn to meet some of
the coming guests, there was a look of annoyance upon her countenance
that was ill-concealed by the smile she wore.
"So absurd!" she had just found time to say to Mrs Bray, "bringing
those children and their governess out upon the croquet-ground as if on
purpose to annoy people, who are made to give way to humour their
schoolroom whims!"
Mrs Bray's reply was a toss of the head, as she turned off to meet her
hopeful son Max, who, after pains that deserved a better recompense, now
made his appearance dressed for the occasion.
"Just in time, bai Jove!" he drawled; and then he started slightly, for,
making a survey of the lawn, he suddenly became aware that Ella Bedford
was seated within a few yards with her pupils. "O, here's Miss
Bedford!" he exclaimed; "and, let's see, there's Laura; and who are
those with her? O, the Ellis people. They don't play. I want to make
up a set at once--want another gentleman. Why, there's Charley Vining
just coming out of the stable-yard; rode over, I suppose. Perhaps he'll
play."
Ella shrank back, and sent an appealing look towards Mrs Bray; but as
Max had said Miss Bedford was to play, there was no appeal.
"Perhaps Miss Nelly here would like to take my place?" said Ella.
"O, dear me, no, Miss Bedford! Mr Maximilian selected you as one of
the set, and I should not like him to be disappointed," said Mamma Bray.
"You'll play, Vining?" drawled Max.
"Well, no; I don't care about it," said Charley good-humouredly. "I'll
make room for some one else."
"Ya-a-as, but we haven't enough without you," said Max. "You might take
a mallet, you know, till some one else comes."
"O, very good," said Charley, who had just caught sight of Ella with a
mallet in her hand. "I'm ready."
"Then we'll have a game at once before any one else comes. Now then,
Laura, here's Charley Vining breaking his heart because you don't come
and play on his side. I daresay, though, Miss Bedford and I can get the
better of you."
But Max Bray's arrangement for a snug _parti_ of four was upset by fresh
arrivals--Hugh Lingon, looking very stout, pink, and warm, with a couple
of sisters, both stouter, pinker, and warmer, and a very slim young
curate from a neighbouring village, arriving just at the same time.
Then followed a little manoeuvring and arranging; but in spite of
brother and sister playing into each other's hands, the game commenced
with Max Bray upon the same side as Laura, one of the stout Miss
Lingons, and the slim curate; while Charley Vining had Ella under his
wing.
Croquet is a very nice amusement: not that there is much in the game
itself, which is, if anything, rather tame; but it serves as a means for
bringing people together--as a vehicle for chatting, flirting, and above
all, carrying off the _ennui_ so fond of making its way into social
fashionable life. You can help the trusting friend so nicely through
hoop after hoop, receiving all the while such prettily-spoken thanks and
such sweet smiles; there is such a fine opportunity too, whilst assuming
the leadership and directing, for enabling the young lady to properly
hold her mallet for the next blow--arranging the little fingers, and
pressing them inadvertently more tightly to the stick; and we have known
very enthusiastic amateurs go so far as to kneel down before a lady, and
raise one delicate _bottine_, placing it on the player's ball, and
holding it firmly while the enemy is croque'd. _Apropos_ of enemies,
too, how they can be punished! How a rival can be ignominiously driven
here and there, and into all sorts of uncomfortable places--under bushes
and behind trees, wired and pegged, and treated in the most cruel
manner!
And so it was at the Elms croquet-party. Looking black almost as night,
Laura struck at the balls viciously--a prime new set of Jaques's best--
chipping the edge of her mallet, bruising the balls, and driving Ella
Bedford's "Number 1, blue," at times right off the croquet-ground. Not
that it mattered in the least; for in spite of his self-depreciation,
Charley Vining was an admirable player, making long shots, and fetching
up Ella's unfortunate ball, taking it with him through hoop after hoop,
till Laura's eyes flashed, and Max declared, "bai Jove!" he never saw
anything like it; when Charley would catch a glimpse of Ella's troubled
look, recollect himself, and perform the same acts of kindness for the
plump Miss Lingon, to receive in return numberless "O, thank you's!" and
"O, how clever's!" and "So much obliged, Mr Vining!" while "that
governess," as Laura called her, never once uttered a word of thanks.
As for Hugh Lingon, he was always nowhere; and as he missed his aim
again and again, he grew more and more divided in his opinions.
First he declared that the ground was not level; but seeing the good
strokes made by others, he retracted that observation, and waited
awhile.
"I don't think my ball is quite round, Vining," he exclaimed, after
another bad stroke.
"Pooh! nonsense!" laughed Charley. "You didn't try; it was because you
didn't want to hit Miss Bray."
"No--no! 'Pon my word, no--'pon my word!" exclaimed Hugh, protesting as
he grew more and more pink.
"Did his best, I'd swear--bai Jove, he did!" drawled Max, playing, and
sending poor Lingon off the ground.
Then, after a time, Lingon had his turn once more.
"It's not the ball, it's this mallet--it is indeed!" he exclaimed, after
an atrocious blow. "Just you look here, Vining: the handle's all on one
side."
"Never mind! Try again, my boy," laughed Charley; and soon after he had
to bring both his lady partners up again to their hoop, sending Laura's
ball away to make room for them, and on the whole treating it rather
harshly, Laura's eyes flashing the while with vexation.
"I like croquet for some things," said Laura's partner, the thin curate,
after vainly trying to render her a service; "I but it's a very
unchristian-like sort of game--one seems to give all one's love to one's
friends, and to keep none for one's enemies."
"O, come, I say," laughed Charley, who seemed to be in high spirits.
"Here's Mr Louther talking about love to Miss Bray!"
"Indeed, I assure you--" exclaimed the curate.
"But I distinctly heard the word," laughed Charley.
"Was that meant for a witticism?" sneered Laura.
"Wit? no!" said Charley good-humouredly. "I never go in for that sort
of thing."
"Bai Jove, Vining! why don't you attend to the ga-a-a-me?" drawled Max,
who was suffering from too much of the second Miss Lingon--a young lady
who looked upon him as an Adonis.
"Not my turn," said Charley.
"Yes, yes!" said Hugh Lingon innocently. "Miss Bedford wants you to
help her along!"
"Of course," sneered Laura. "Such impudence!"
But Charley did not hear her words; for he was already half-way towards
poor Ella, who seemed to shrink from him as he approached, and watched
with a troubled breast the efforts he made upon her behalf.
"Now it's my turn again," said Hugh. "Now just give me your advice
here, Vining. What ought I to do?"
Charley interrupted a remark he was making to Ella Bedford, and pointed
out the most advantageous play, when Hugh Lingon raised his mallet, the
blow fell, and--he missed.
"Now, did you ever see anything like that?" he exclaimed, appealing to
the company.
"Yes, often!" laughed Charley.
"But what can be the reason?" exclaimed Lingon.
"Why, bai Jove! it's because you're such a muff, Lingon, bai Jove!"
exclaimed Max.
"I am--I know I am!" said Lingon good-humouredly. "But, you know, I
can't help it--can't indeed!"
The game went on with varying interest, Charley in the intervals trying
to engage Ella in conversation; but only to find her retiring, almost
distant, as from time to time she caught sight of a pair of fierce eyes
bent upon her from beneath Laura's frowning brows. But there was a
sweetness of disposition beaming from Ella's troubled countenance, and
the tokens of a rare intellect in her few words--spoken to endeavour to
direct him to seek for others with more conversational power, but with
precisely the contrary effect--that seemed to rouse in Sir Philip
Vining's son feelings altogether new. He found himself dwelling upon
every word, every sweet and musical tone, drinking in each troubled,
trembling look, and listening with ill-concealed eagerness even for the
words spoken to others.
"Bai Jove!" exclaimed Max at length, angrily to his sister, "what's the
matter with that Charley Vining?"
"Don't ask me!" cried Laura pettishly, as she turned from him to listen
to and then to snub the slim curate, who, after ten minutes'
consideration, had worked up and delivered a compliment.
Once only did Ella trust herself to look at Charley, taking in, though,
with that glance the open-countenanced, happy English face of the young
man, but shrinking within herself the next instant as she seemed to feel
the bold, open, but still respectfully-admiring glance directed at her.
Two other croquet sets had been made upon the great lawn; and, taking
the first opportunity, Ella had given up her mallet into other hands--an
act, to Laura's great disgust, imitated by Charley Vining, who, however,
found no opportunity for again approaching Ella Bedford until the hour
of dinner was announced, when, the major portion of the croquet-players
having departed, the remainder--the invited few--met in the
drawing-room.
Volume 1, Chapter XII.