round-faced Jehu as the victim of domestic afflictions, and for the
hundredth time she reflected that this Ireland to which she had come was
a most extraordinary place. Nothing could be seen from the windows of
the fly save an occasional tree against the sky, but ever up and up they
climbed, while the wind blew round them in furious blasts. Then
suddenly came a bend in the road, and a vision of twinkling windows, row
upon row, stretching from one wing to the other of a fine old building,
and each window glowing with its own cheery welcome.
"It's illumined!" cried Pixie wildly, pinching Mademoiselle's arm in her
excitement. "It's illumined! Oh, Bridgie, Bridgie, did I ever see!
Mademoiselle, Mademoiselle, did ye ever have a castle illumined for you
before? Did they ever give you such a welcome in your own country?"
"Never, never!" cried Mademoiselle. She was almost as excited as Pixie
herself, craning forward to peer out of the windows, counting
breathlessly the long line of lights, and reflecting that she had not
sufficiently realised the grandeur of the household, to which she was
coming. Another moment and a still brighter light shone through an
opened doorway, and a chorus of voices sang out welcome. Then the fly
stopped, someone helped her to alight, a hand clasped hers
affectionately, and a rich, soft voice spoke in her ears.
"Are you destroyed? The journey you've been having, poor creatures, in
the wind and the rain! Are you destroyed altogether?"
This was Castle Knock indeed, and Bridgie O'Shaughnessy's fair face
beamed a welcome upon her.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN.
KNOCK CASTLE ONCE MORE.
Mademoiselle was so exhausted that she begged to retire at once, and was
forthwith escorted to a huge cavern of a room, which boasted tapestried
walls, an oaken ceiling, and a four-poster bed large enough to have
accommodated the whole fifth-form at a pinch. It looked cheery enough,
however, in the light of a great peat fire, and the visitor was feeling
so unwell after her stormy crossing that her one overpowering desire was
to lay her head upon the pillows, and revel in the consciousness that
her journeyings were at an end. Her tact suggested also that this
affectionate family would be glad to have their baby to themselves for
the first meeting; but when she woke up refreshed and vigorous the
following morning, she was full of eagerness to get downstairs, and make
the acquaintance of the O'Shaughnessys in their own home. The night
before she had been so faint and dazed that she had gone automatically
through the various introductions, and as the lights inside the rooms
were by no means as bright as those at the windows, even the very faces
seemed seen through a mist. But Bridget had mentioned eight o'clock as
the breakfast-hour, so Mademoiselle leaped out of bed, and, wondering a
little why no one appeared to bring tea, hot water, or a bath, made the
best work of her toilet which was possible under the circumstances.
Truth to tell, the room did not appear so attractive in the light of a
dark December morning, aided by one flickering candle upon the dressing-
table. The tapestry was worn into holes, the carpet was threadbare, and
the silk curtains had faded to a dull grey hue. The general aspect was
so grim and dull, both within the room and outside in the wind-swept
park, that the sun-loving Mademoiselle made all speed she could to get
downstairs to the cheering influences of breakfast and fire. The sound
of voices guided her when she reached the ground floor, and she entered
a room on the right of the hall, hoping to see the family already
assembled to meet her.
What a disappointment! Not one welcoming face did she see, not a sign
of breakfast upon the table, and but a flicker of light on the huge
grate, before which knelt one untidy maid, while another stopped short
in her dusting operations to stare at the new-comer with unconcealed
amazement.
"Was this perhaps not the room where breakfast was held?" Mademoiselle
inquired politely, but it appeared that this was the room. And she had
understood Miss O'Shaughnessy to say that the hour was eight o'clock.
Had she been mistaken in her impression?
Molly laughed, and shook her duster in the air, so that the atoms which
she had swept together were instantly dispersed afresh.
"'Deed, you were right enough. The hour is eight, but you'll be in fine
time if you're down by nine," she replied encouragingly; and poor
Mademoiselle felt her heart sink at the thought of the weary hour which
stretched between her and the longed-for meal. Nothing solid to eat
since one o'clock yesterday, and now to have to sit shivering and
watching the provisions slowly taking their place on the table, deterred
by politeness from helping herself to as much as a slice of bread. She
felt intensely sorry for herself, but, after all, the prospect was the
worst part of the business, for the kindness of the Irish heart came to
her rescue, and while Molly blew at the fire with a pair of huge leather
bellows, her companion scuttled upstairs into the room where Bridgie lay
sweetly sleeping, to bring her out of bed with a bound with the
information that the "foreign lady was in her clothes, and after
inquiring for her breakfast."
In an incredibly short space of time Bridgie appeared downstairs, and as
she broke into vehement apologies, Mademoiselle had an opportunity of
studying her face, and came to the conclusion that the little sister
had, if anything, understated its charms. Surely never did sweeter grey
eyes shelter behind curling black lashes, and look out of a broader,
fairer brow. The waving hair was of purest flaxen, and the careless
coiffure was as becoming as if arranged by the most skilful of
hairdressers. What if the mouth were large, and the nose of no
classical outline, no one who looked into Bridget O'Shaughnessy's eyes
had either time or inclination to look further.
"I'm ashamed to think of you sitting here all by yourself!" she cried,
holding both Mademoiselle's hands in hers, and smiling into her face
with a beguiling sweetness. "We always call the breakfast-hour eight;
because, if we said nine, it would be ten, and ye must be punctual in
arranging for a family. But it's all for the best, for I've told Molly
to bring something in at once, and you and I will have a cosy meal
before the rest appear. And you are looking quite fresh and bright this
morning--that's good! My heart was broken for you last night, when you
came in all perished with cold. And it was so good of you to take the
long journey to give us this pleasure. You don't know the excitement
there was in this house when Jack's telegram arrived! If we were
pleased to think of having a child for the holidays, imagine our delight
when it was a girl like ourselves--a companion for Esmeralda and me!"
"A girl like ourselves!" Oh, Bridgie, Bridgie, you must have had a
taste of the Blarney Stone too, to have ignored so completely the ten
years which separated you from your visitor; but, needless to say,
Mademoiselle bore you no grudge for your short-sightedness, and was only
too happy to be classed as a girl once more.
They sat down to breakfast together, and presently one member after
another of the family strolled in, and took their share in entertaining
the stranger. The Major put on his most fascinating air, and revived
recollections of an old visit to "Paree," and Pat and Miles stared
unblinkingly at every morsel she put between her lips. They were both
handsome lads, but Pat in especial had such languishing eyes, such an
air of pensive melancholy, that he seemed almost too good for this
wicked world, and as far as possible removed from the ordinary
mischievous schoolboy. Mademoiselle wondered what beautiful poetic
fancies were passing through his brain as he lay back in his chair and
pushed the curls from his forehead. Then his eyes met hers, and he
smiled angelic questioning.
"Do you have frogs for breakfast in your home in France, Mademoiselle?"
"Pat, be quiet! That's very rude."
"It is not, Bridgie; it's thirst for information. Or snails,
Mademoiselle? Have you often eaten snails?"
"Never once, nor frogs neither. We have a breakfast much as you have
here. Rolls of bread, and honey, and butter, and coffee--ver' good
coffee!" and there was a regretful tone in Mademoiselle's voice, as she
struggled womanfully to swallow the grounds of chicory which seemed to
constitute the leading feature of coffee as served at Knock Castle. She
did not intend to show her distaste, but the Major exclaimed in eager
agreement with the unspoken criticism.
"And this stuff is not fit to drink! If you will teach my girls to make
coffee as you have it in France, Mademoiselle, you will be doing me a
lifelong favour. I suppose you can cook by instinct, like most of your
countrywomen?"
"I think I can--pretty well, but I do not often get the chance. If Miss
Breegie will let me teach her some of our favourite dishes, it will be a
pleasure to me too! I used to be very happy cooking tempting things for
my father to eat!"
"Hark to that now, Bridgie! There's no better ambition for a young girl
than to wait upon her father and see to his comfort!" cried the Major
solemnly; and a merry laugh rang out from the doorway as Esmeralda came
forward, and standing behind his chair, clasped her arms round his neck,
the while she sent her bright, inquiring glances round the table.
"The whole duty of woman is to wait upon man! and a good long time she
has to wait too, if the man is anything like yourself, me dear! We will
make him an omelette for his lunch this very day, Mademoiselle, if he'll
promise to eat it when he returns an hour past the proper time! I hope
you're well, and had a good sleep after your travels."
Mademoiselle murmured something in reply, but what, she scarcely knew,
so absorbed was she in studying the charming picture made by father and
daughter, the Major with his hair scarcely touched with grey, his
charming smile and stalwart figure, and above him Esmeralda, in all her
wonderful, gipsy-like beauty. Her hair was as dark as Bridgie's was
fair, and stood out from her head in a mass of curls and waves, her
features were perfect in their haughty, aquiline curves, and the bloom
of youth was on her cheeks. With such hair and colouring it would have
been natural to expect brown eyes, but what gave to her face its note of
distinction was the fact that they were grey, and not brown--wonderful
clear grey eyes, which gave the beholder a thrill of mingled surprise
and admiration every time she lifted her curled black lashes and turned
them upon him. Mademoiselle stared in speechless admiration, and
Esmeralda's brothers and sisters stared at her in their turn, well
pleased at the effect produced; for what was the use of groaning beneath
the whims and tyrannies of "the beautiful Miss O'Shaughnessy," if one
could not also enjoy a little honour and glory once in a while?
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
ESMERALDA'S WILES.
It was easy to see that if Pixie were the pet, Esmeralda was the pride
of her father's heart, and exercised a unique influence over him. She
seated herself by his side at the table, and they teased and joked
together more like a couple of mischievous children than a staid, grown-
up father and his daughter. The girl was quick and apt in her replies,
and Mademoiselle was conscious that the Major kept turning surreptitious
glances towards herself, to see if she were duly impressed by the
exhibition. He evidently delighted in showing off Esmeralda's beauty
and cleverness, and that in a wider circle than home, for presently he
said meaningly--
"The hounds meet at Balligarry on Monday, Joan. It will be the best run
we have had yet, and the whole county will be there. You'll arrange to
come with me, of course."
"I'd love to, but--" Esmeralda raised her brows, and looked across the
table with a glance half appealing, half apologetic--"it's Bridgie's
turn! I went with you the last time."
"And the time before that!" muttered Miles into his cup; but the Major
waved aside the suggestion with his accustomed carelessness. "Oh,
Bridgie would rather stay at home. She'll be too much taken up with
Mademoiselle to have any time to spare."
Mademoiselle looked, as she felt, decidedly uncomfortable, but the first
glance at Bridgie's face sufficed to restore her complacency, for the
smile was without a shadow of offence, and the voice in which she
replied was cheerfulness itself.
"Indeed that's true! We can get hunting for half of the year, but it's
not every day we have a visitor in the house. You go with father,
Esmeralda, and don't think of me! We will have a fine little spree on
our own account, Mademoiselle and I! Maybe we'll drive into Roskillie
and have a look at the shops!"
Mademoiselle remembered the Rue de la Paix, and smiled to herself at the
thought of the shops in the Irish village, but she said honestly enough
that she would enjoy the expedition; for would not Bridgie O'Shaughnessy
be her companion, and did she not appear sweeter and more attractive
with every moment that passed? Nearly an hour had elapsed since
breakfast began, and still she sat behind the urn, smiling brilliantly
at each fresh laggard, and looking as unruffled as if she had nothing to
do but attend to his demands! It was the quaintest meal Mademoiselle
had ever known, and seemed as if it would never come to an end, for just
as she was expecting a general rise the Major would cry, "What about a
fresh brew of tea? I could drink another cup if I were pressed," and
presto! it took on a new lease of life. Last of all Pixie made her
appearance, to be invited to a seat on each knee, and embraced with a
fervour which made Mademoiselle realise more fully than ever what the
child must have suffered during those weeks of suspicion and coldness.
"How's my ferret?" she inquired, with her mouth full of toast, selected
from her father's plate; and Pat seized the occasion to deliver his
outstanding account.
"Grown out of knowledge! Eightpence halfpenny you owe me now. I had to
put on another farthing a week because his appetite grew so big. I knew
you would rather pay more than see him suffer. And the guinea-pig died.
There's twopence extra for funeral expenses. We put him in the orchard
beside the dogs, and made a headstone out of your old slate. It's a
rattling good idea, because, don't you see, you can write your own
inscription!"
"If it was my own slate, and I am to make up the inscription, I don't
see why I should pay!" reasoned Pixie, with a business sharpness which
sent her father into fits of delighted laughter, though it left Pat
obstinately firm.
"Man's time!" he said stolidly. "That's what costs nowadays. You look
at any bill, and you'll find the labour comes to ten times as much as
the material. You needn't grudge the poor thing its last resting-place.
He was a good guinea-pig to you."
"I don't care how much I owe, for I have no money to pay with," returned
Pixie, unconsciously echoing her father's financial principles. "Give
Pat a shilling, please, Major, for taking care of my animals while I was
away." And that gentleman promptly threw a coin across the table.
"I wish my animals were as cheap to keep! Well, who is coming out with
me this morning? I have an appointment in Roskillie at 10:30, but I
can't be there now until 11, so there's no use hurrying. Put on your
cap, piccaninny, and come to the stables with me. The girls will look
after you, Mademoiselle, and find some means of amusing you for the
day."
"Oh yes, we'll take care of her!" said Esmeralda lightly; then, as the
boys withdrew after their father, she planted her elbows on the table
and looked across under questioning eyebrows. "Please, have we to call
you `Mademoiselle' all the time? Haven't you a nice, pretty French name
that we could call you instead?"
"Therese! Yes, please do! I should feel so much more happy!" cried
Mademoiselle eagerly, and Bridgie nodded in approval.
"Therese is charming, and it's so much more friendly to use Christian
names at Christmas-time. I shall begin at once. We want you to help us
with the decoration of the rooms, Therese! We shall be just a family
party, but Jack will be at home, and we will have games and charades to
make it lively. We might rehearse something this morning, mightn't we,
Joan dear?"
"_I_ mightn't!" replied "Joan dear" promptly, "because why?--I've got
something better to do. There is plenty of time still, and you will
agree with me later that my business is important. If you put on a
cloak, Therese, I will come back for you in ten minutes, and take you to
the stables to join father and Pixie. It will amuse you, I'm sure."
She left the room without waiting for a reply, and Bridgie heaved a sigh
of disappointment.
"She's just mad after horses, that girl. Now she will be off with
father, and not a sight of her shall we have until afternoon. It's easy
to say there is time to spare, but to-morrow we must decorate, and look
after all the arrangements for Jack's return, and I do hate a scramble.
However, when Esmeralda says she won't, she won't, and there's an end of
it. You had better go with her, dear, while I interview the servants."
"I suppose I had," said Mademoiselle slowly. She thought Esmeralda
selfish and autocratic, but she was fascinated, despite herself, by her
beauty and brightness, and anxious to know her better; so she obediently
went up to her room to heap on the wraps, for the morning was cold,
though by this time the sun was struggling from behind the clouds. On
the way down she was joined by Esmeralda in riding costume--a most
peculiar riding costume, and, extraordinary to relate, most unbecoming
into the bargain. Mademoiselle's critical glance roamed from head to
foot, back again from foot to head, while Esmeralda stood watching her
with tightened lips and curious twinkling eyes. Then Bridgie appeared
upon the scene, and stopped short, uttering shrill cries of
astonishment, as she looked at the slovenly tie, the twisted skirt, the
general air of dishevelment and shabbiness.
"Esmeralda, you're an _Object_! Look at the dust on your skirt. You've
not half brushed it, and everything is hanging the wrong way. It's a
perfect disgrace you look, to ride out with any man!"
"I'm delighted to hear it! That's just my intention," replied the young
lady, tugging the disreputable skirt still further awry, and nodding her
beautiful head, with an air of mysterious amusement. The blue serge had
a smudge of white all down one side, which looked suspiciously as if the
powder-box had been spilt over it. A seam gaped open and showed little
fragments of thread still sticking to the cloth.
If Esmeralda's intention was to look disreputable, she had certainly
accomplished her object; and when the stables were reached she took care
to place herself conspicuously, so that her father's eyes must of
necessity rest upon her.
"I'm going to ride to Roskillie with you, dad! It's a fine morning, and
I thought you would be the better of my company."
"That's a good girl!" cried the Major cheerily; then his brow puckered,
and he stared uneasily at the untidy figure. He was so unnoticing about
clothes that it required a good deal to attract his attention, but
surely there was something wrong about the girl's get-up to-day? He
kept throwing uneasy glances towards her while the horses were brought
out, and Esmeralda strolled about in a patch of sunshine, and picked her
steps gingerly over the muddles, like a model of fastidious care. She
sprang to the saddle, light as thistledown, and curved her graceful
throat with a complacent toss, as the groom smoothed her skirt, bringing
the white stain into full prominence.
"You want dusting!" said the Major curtly, and a brush was brought from
the stable, and scrubbed vigorously up and down, with the result that
the surface of the cloth was frayed and roughened, though there was no
appreciable removal of the stain.
"It doesn't seem as if it would come out, does it? but there are plenty
more further on," said Esmeralda innocently. "Have a try at another,
Dennis!"--but the Major motioned the man away with a hasty gesture.
"Leave the rag alone--it's past dusting! Is that the best habit you
have to your back?" he cried testily, and the dark eyes looked into his
with angelic resignation.
"It was a very good habit--six years ago! That's as good as twelve, for
we've worn it in turns ever since. The bodice is the least thing in the
world crinkly, for I'm broader than Bridgie, and stretch it out, and
then it goes into creases on her figure. We might try washing the skirt
to take out the stains, and then it would be clean, if the colour _did_
run a bit! Ride round by the back roads, dear, and I'll keep behind,
and not disgrace you!"
"Humph," said the Major again, and led the way out of the yard without
another word, Esmeralda following, looking over her shoulder at the
little group of watchers with a smile of such triumphant enjoyment as
took away Mademoiselle's breath to behold. She looked inquiringly at
Pixie, but Pixie and Dennis were in silent convulsions of enjoyment, and
only waited until the riders were out of hearing before exploding into
peals of laughter.
"That bates all for the cleverness of her! Miss Bridgie has been
fretting over that old habit for a couple of years, and trying to
wheedle a new one out of the Major, but it's Miss Joan that can twist
him round her little finger when she takes the work in hand! That was a
funny stain, that got the worse the more you brushed it! She never got
that on the hunting-field. Go back to the house, Miss Pixie, dearie,
and tell the mistress the new habit is as good as paid for. The Major's
not the man I take him for, if he passes the tailor's door this morning
without stepping inside!"
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.
CHRISTMAS PREPARATIONS.
Esmeralda strolled into the house in time for afternoon tea, and smiled
complacently around as she warmed herself at the fire.
"Blue cloth!" she announced triumphantly. "No more serge, thank you,
but good, solid cloth with a fine surface to it, and a smart little coat
instead of a bodice, which was pure unselfishness on my part, for I
should have been fitted well enough, and the man pressed it on me, but I
thought of you, me darling, and the agony it would be to you to have
your waist misjudged by a couple of inches, so I stuck to the coat, and
I hope you are grateful!"
"I am," said Bridgie frankly; but there was a pained expression mingling
with her satisfaction, and presently she added slowly, "So Dennis was
right, and you got your way again. I have been trying for ages to
persuade father that we needed a new habit, but he paid no attention to
me."
"You didn't go about it the right way, me dear. You are fifty times
cleverer than I, but there is one thing you don't understand, and that
is how to manage men! They hate and detest being told what to do, and
the secret of getting round them is to make them believe that what you
want is their own suggestion. You have to be very cunning, and that's
just what you can never manage to be!"
"Yes, she can!" came a shrill cry from the doorway, as Pixie burst into
the room and made a bee-line for the tea-table. "Indeed she can now,
Esmeralda, so it's no use denying it. She can, perfectly well!"
The three listeners looked at each other with questioning glances, for
such vehemence was somewhat bewildering on the part of one who could not
possibly have heard the first part of the conversation.
"What can she do?" queried Esmeralda sternly.
"Whatever you say she can't," replied the champion, unabashed; and at
that the cloud rolled off Bridgie's brow, like mist before the sun.
"Oh, you precious goose! Bridgie can do everything, can't she? She
always could in your eyes. It's very silly of you, dear, but it's very
nice. I'm not at all vexed with you about it."
"You would be, though, if you were her true friend, but you always spoil
one another, you two!" cried Esmeralda lightly. Then she stared round
the room with a surprised expression, and added disapprovingly, "You
seem to have been fairly lazy while I've been out. I thought you would
have been getting on with the decorations. Whatever have you been
doing?"
"Roaming about, and actually daring to enjoy ourselves like other
people," retorted Bridgie, with what Mademoiselle was glad to recognise
as a decided nip of severity; "but from this minute there must be no
more playing until the work is finished. Dennis has cut the evergreens,
and we must begin making wreaths at once, so as to be in order when Jack
arrives to-morrow evening. We could have two hours' work before
dinner."