AN INVITATION.
Wednesday brought the return of the _Sylph_ from her cruise. The men,
tanned and burned by exposure to wind and sun, were in great spirits,
and declared themselves ready for any sport that might be suggested.
The girls rallied forces, and in solemn conclave bade them extend
their vacation one more week, that Miss Stuart might be amused and
entertained. They drew a pathetic picture of her first week in
Hetherford, and maintained that it would be rank disloyalty to allow
her to go away with such an impression of the beloved place.
In the confusion of tongues two voices were silent. Emily and Jean
each had her own reason for wishing Miss Stuart a thousand miles away,
and both looked a little contemptuous at the excitement that was being
made over her. However, their lack of interest did not dampen the
enthusiasm of the others, and the day was carried. The men did not
need a great deal of urging, for they had already met Miss Stuart, and
were eloquent in their praises of her. Dick Andrews succumbed at once
to the tender passion, much to everybody's amusement, for jolly Dick
in the rôle of lovesick swain was a most diverting spectacle.
Andrews did not have it all his own way, however, for Miss Stuart,
with an exception in Farr's favor, treated them quite impartially. It
was conceded that Farr, as an old friend, had a prior right, and no
one marveled that Miss Stuart's manner toward him was particularly
gracious and amiable. They were much in each other's society, and so
diplomatic was Miss Stuart, that no one discerned that their frequent
_tête-à-têtes_ were invariably of her planning.
It must be said, however, that Farr made no resistance and appeared
eminently at ease with her. He was sorely wounded, and as angry with
Jean as it was possible for him to be; and in this dejected and
unenviable frame of mind, he took small heed of what he did with his
time. Monday night when, at Helen's request, Jean had left the
drawing-room, she had distinctly bade him hope. One hour later, she
had again veered round and had treated him with a contemptuous
indifference which he felt he had in no way deserved. Even then he had
tried to believe that his imagination was at fault, but when she had
purposely overlooked the hand which he had extended to her in parting,
he could no longer deceive himself. Unfortunately, Miss Stuart had
seen the slight which Jean had put upon him, and the faint smile of
amusement in her eyes when she had said, "good-night" to him but
deepened the sting. In a tempest of rage he flung himself out of the
house and strode furiously down the avenue, leaving poor Dudley far
behind, to wonder what on earth was the matter.
It was not easy for Farr with his nature to forgive a repulse, and on
Tuesday he kept to the _Vortex_, nursing his wrongs, and vowing he
would take no step to make matters right between them until Jean
should show some sign of penitence. By Wednesday this determination
was less firm, and during the hours of his work and leisure his heart
was pleading for Jean. When evening came he gave up the struggle, and
at nine o'clock presented himself at the manor.
The light that streamed out through the open door and windows revealed
quite a number of people on the veranda, and he remembered that he had
observed the _Sylph_ riding at anchor in the harbor. They gave him a
hearty welcome, and while Nathalie was rallying him for his unkind
desertion of them, he vainly tried to discover Jean's whereabouts. His
inability to do so was soon explained.
"Where did Jean go?" Nathalie asked.
Eleanor answered from the corner of the veranda:
"She went in the house a little while ago."
"Send Susie up for her, Nathalie," Helen requested.
Farr took a seat on the railing at a point which commanded a view of
the hall; and found himself face to face with Miss Stuart, who was
tilting slowly back and forth in a deep rocker. They had interchanged
one or two commonplace remarks when a maid tripped across the hall and
stood in the doorway.
"Miss Jean begs to be excused," she announced briefly, and disappeared
into the darkened dining room beyond.
Farr drew a quick breath, and a frown contracted his brows. He could
scarcely believe that he had heard aright. With a characteristic
gesture, he pulled his cap down over his eyes and set his teeth. Miss
Stuart remembered the trick of old. She watched him furtively, with a
curious light in her eyes. Suddenly he recalled her existence, but
when he looked at her she had already averted her gaze and was
apparently quite unconscious that anything of importance had taken
place.
She gave him a few moments in which to recover himself, and then
addressed to him some passing observation on a subject quite alien to
Hetherford or the Hetherford girls. Farr, animated by a strong desire
to hide his pain and disappointment from every eye, braced himself and
replied in a vein of lightness which satisfied her that she had been
wise in the course which she had adopted. They drifted quite naturally
into conventional small-talk, and every moment he gained more
assurance and ease. He was positively grateful for Miss Stuart's
presence, for it afforded him a refuge from intercourse with those
simple-hearted Hetherford girls, which he felt would, just now, be
very disastrous to his self-control. No thought of danger assailed
him. He believed Miss Stuart's sentiment for him to be quite dead; and
as for himself he had so completely outlived every trace of his boyish
passion as to have even lost all feeling of resentment against her. He
congratulated himself with true masculine density that he had probed
the depths of Miss Stuart's nature, and could never be outwitted by
her again. Some day, if things went well with him, he meant to tell
Jean all about that affair; in fact, he would have done so Monday
evening, had he not felt that it would scarcely be in good taste to
discuss the subject with Miss Stuart almost within ear-shot. In the
meantime it did not distress him in the least to defer the telling of
the story; for Jean, of course, knew nothing whatever of the matter,
and it was extremely improbable that Miss Stuart would ever take the
pains to enlighten her. In justice to Farr it should be said that he
had completely forgotten the incident of the shrubbery which had meant
so much to Jean, and he was not aware of the words that she had
overheard, and of the construction that she had not unnaturally put
upon them.
And all this while poor little Jean lay on the sofa, in her darkened
room, sobbing as if her heart would break. She had waited so patiently
on Tuesday, hoping against hope that he would come and explain
everything to her. For, of course, there was something to explain,
else why had he so distinctly avoided all mention of Miss Stuart, even
when she had asked him if he knew her?
"He has a right to his past," she said to herself, with quivering
lips; "but, oh! if they were such old friends, if she calls him Val,
if he remembers one evening with her even to the color of her gown, he
might--oh! he might have remembered to speak of her to me."
The more she thought it over the greater seemed the proofs of his
deception. If he and Miss Stuart had been old friends and nothing
more, it would have been his natural impulse to speak of his surprise
and pleasure at meeting her at the manor. He had failed to do so, and,
with despair in her heart, Jean told herself that he must have had
some strong reason for his silence.
Tuesday wore away, and still no word had come from him. She determined
not to let Miss Stuart see how unhappy she was, so kept about with the
others, and entered into all their plans with forced gayety. When
half-past nine struck on Wednesday evening, she gave up all hope of
seeing him, for they were very informal in Hetherford, and kept early
hours. She went up to her room, and as she slipped on her wrapper, she
fell to crying, and when Susie knocked and announced Farr, she was too
disfigured by her tears to think of going down. The disappointment was
very keen.
"Please excuse me, Susie," she called through the closed door. "I am
sorry, but I am lying down."
As she heard the maid's retreating step she would fain have recalled
her, and sent some other message, but it was too late.
The next day, on the decks of the _Sylph_, Farr and Jean met for the
first time since Monday. Jean came aboard fully resolved to tender an
apology for having excused herself on the previous evening. She had
never lacked self-confidence before, but to-day she could scarcely
pluck up courage to speak to him. Timidly she made her first friendly
overtures, only to be met with an unmistakable rebuff. Farr answered
the questions she put to him, but with a studied indifference which
made her cheeks tingle; to make matters worse he presently sauntered
off from the group of which Jean made one, and joined Miss Stuart,
who was seated a short distance away. Jean's face grew hard as she
stifled the sob which rose in her throat, and she registered a vow
that never again would she give him an opportunity to treat her so
slightingly. It was unmanly and unmannerly, and she had done with him
forever. She did not flinch from the path she laid out for herself,
and so successfully did she play the part that Dick and Mollie,
walking home in the cool of the evening, declared that it was like the
good old days to have Jean so jolly and full of fun.
Miss Stuart meanwhile was content to keep Farr at her side, despite
the fact that he was a most morose and taciturn companion. She knew
wherein lay her advantage, and although the knowledge was not
flattering to her self-pride, it did not prevent her from making the
best of her opportunities. It was galling to her that Jean had the
power to make him so miserable, but the trouble between them served
her purpose very well for the present. As she talked to him
pleasantly, she did not seem to notice that his replies were
monosyllabic, and that he watched Jean's every movement with gloomy
eyes. She was a clever woman, with a rare gift of conversation, and
ere long her tactful efforts were rewarded, and Farr, roused from his
abstraction, shook himself out of his ill-humor. In the course of the
day he made one or two attempts at a reconciliation with Jean, but as
both she and Miss Stuart had concentrated their energies to prevent
his accomplishing his purpose, he failed signally.
As day followed day, the breach between Jean and her lover was not
healed, and no hand was stretched forth to stay its ever-widening
limits.
* * * * *
"Lillian!"
Miss Stuart laid down her book, and looked expectantly up at Helen.
"I have a suggestion to make for this afternoon. How would you like to
drive over to Crescent Beach to call on Mrs. Maynard?"
"I agree to the drive," replied Miss Stuart, stifling a yawn, "but why
must we call on that stupid woman? She always bores me to death."
There was a ring of annoyance in Helen's voice as she answered:
"Oh, it is not at all necessary for you to go with me. One of my
sisters would be delighted to do so."
"So much the better, my dear," said Miss Stuart indifferently, as she
picked up her book and resumed her reading.
"Why are you so down on little Mrs. Maynard?" queried Wendell
Churchill, emerging from a recess of the window where he and Nathalie
had been whiling away the morning hours with mandolin and banjo.
"I am not down on her in the least, but I think she is uninteresting
to a degree."
She paused until the portières had closed on Helen's retreating
figure, and then met Churchill's eyes with a meaning smile.
"It is not surprising, is it, that her husband should find Mrs.
Desborough a pleasing contrast?"
In her far-away corner hot-tempered Nathalie caught the words and
flared up in defense of her friend:
"Oh, I think it is a shame to speak so. Mrs. Maynard is unhappy, but
no woman ever bore unhappiness with greater dignity. It seems to me
incredible that everybody's sympathies are not enlisted on her side."
"I am very unfortunate," returned Miss Stuart with thinly veiled
sarcasm. "This is the second time I have erred in this way. I must be
more careful in future not to give expression to my opinions."
Churchill saw that some unpleasantness was imminent, and, manlike,
rushed in only to make matters worse.
"Don't you think Miss Nathalie looks very much like Mrs. Desborough? I
have so often noticed the resemblance."
With blazing eyes, Nathalie started up from the low window-seat.
"From all I know of her, I cannot feel flattered by the compliment,"
and, with this parting shot, she thrust open the French windows and
flew out on the veranda.
"Dear, dear," murmured Miss Stuart in mock dismay, "what a tempest in
a teapot. Those girls are terribly spoiled, and it is all Helen's
fault. She is unpardonably weak with them."
Churchill was very much embarrassed by the position in which he found
himself. He extricated himself by muttering something barely
intelligible, to the effect that the Lawrences were so much attached
to each other, and then retreated hastily to find Nathalie and
reinstate himself in her good graces.
When afternoon came Miss Stuart relented and she and Helen, with
little Gladys between them, started off in the buckboard for Crescent
Beach. It was a beautiful drive. For a short distance the road wound
through fragrant meadows and wooded lanes until it came out upon the
beach, where for several miles it led straight away over the hardened
sands. They bowled swiftly along, the fresh salt wind blowing in their
faces, the soothing sound of the ebb and flow of the restless waters
breaking softly on their ears.
Miss Stuart, exhilarated by the clear air, the brilliant sunshine and
the congenial companionship of this friend whom she really loved, had
never appeared to a greater advantage. It was the Lillian Stuart who
might have been whose cleverness and glancing wit held Helen's mind
enthralled, as they talked of all the subjects dear to women's hearts.
All too soon they reached their destination. As they drew up under the
_porte-cochère_ of the hotel, Helen found herself wishing with all her
heart that Lillian might continue in so charming a mood.
Presently Mrs. Maynard joined them in the vast hotel parlor, and as
Miss Stuart went forward to greet her with great cordiality, Helen had
no fault to find with her manner. They chatted together for some few
moments when Miss Stuart recognized some friends of hers in a party of
people who had wandered in from the piazza. She excused herself, and
as she joined them Mrs. Maynard turned to Helen.
"Don't you want to come up to my room for a few moments, Helen? I am
sure that Dorothy would be very glad to see Gladys."
The child jumped instantly down from her chair, her chubby face
beaming with eager anticipation.
"Gladys has accepted for me," said Helen with an amused smile, and the
two made their way upstairs.
"What a lovely view you have!" exclaimed Helen as she dropped into a
chair near the open window.
"It is pretty," Mrs. Maynard assented, pushing open a door which led
into the next room.
A beautiful little child sat in the middle of the floor, hugging a big
woolly lamb close to her heart.
"Dorothy, will you please come here, and speak to little Gladys
Lawrence, who has come to see you?"
At her mother's bidding, Dorothy struggled to her feet, and clutching
the lamb tightly in both hands, ran toward the open door. Then she
caught sight of Helen, and the big violet eyes were swiftly veiled,
and the little head with its tangled mass of golden curls was hidden
in the folds of her mother's skirt. Mrs. Maynard smiled in gentle
reproof as she lifted the child's face.
"What a baby, darling! Please be a good little girl and say
'how-do-you-do' to Gladys."
Dorothy still hung back, clinging fast to her mother's hand; but
Gladys, who was the most friendly little creature in the world, soon
succeeded in overcoming her shyness. Presently they were chattering
together as happily as possible, and Dorothy went so far as to produce
her box of paper dolls and to dress them for Gladys' benefit.
Mrs. Maynard's face lighted up with sympathetic interest as Helen
gave her a graphic account of the week's gayeties. She had known Miss
Stuart for several years, and could well understand Helen's desire to
make her visit enjoyable. Miss Stuart, bored, might be a very
difficult companion.
"I am so glad for you, Helen, dear, that you have had such pleasant
times. I wish you would let me feel that I had contributed in a small
way toward helping you to entertain Miss Stuart, and, if you would
enjoy it, I would love to have you all come over here for the dance on
Saturday evening. I believe they are to have very good music, and we
will arrange to have a pleasant little supper together. My husband
will be here, and I expect Mr. and Mrs. Endicott, whom you may
remember."
"Yes, indeed, I do, and I know that I can accept for all of us. It
will be moonlight, so the drive over will be delightful."
On the way home little else was talked of between the girls but the
prospective dance. Miss Stuart expressed herself as very much pleased
with the idea, and the plan having received the sanction of her
approval, Helen forthwith determined that every arrangement should be
as perfect as her careful forethought could make it.
When they reached the manor, the girls were having tea on the upper
porch. They joined them at once, and the question of the dance was
laid before them.
"Glorious!" exclaimed Nathalie, ecstatically, and her verdict was
loudly echoed by the others.
Helen drew a chair up close to the tea-table over which Jean was
presiding, and pulling off her gloves smoothed them out on her knee
with the palm of her hand.
"I want to consult you in regard to the drive, Jeanie," she said in a
lowered tone.
Jean nodded, and leaned across her, to hand a cup of tea to Miss
Stuart.
"Nathalie," said Helen, "please give Lillian some of that hot toast."
"Toast and jam!" exclaimed Nan in accents of scorn, as she helped
herself generously to both. "What sordid considerations, when there is
a _bona fide_ ball in view."
"Leave a slice for me, Nancy," laughed Eleanor. "I must fortify myself
if you are going to wax eloquent."
"Stop your nonsense, girls," and Nathalie waved an imperious hand at
them. "The question is, how shall we drive over?"
Jean turned to Helen.
"If it is a fine night we might go in the wagonette."
"Why, Jean, it would not begin to hold us all," interposed Emily.
"There are fourteen of us, counting the men from the _Vortex_."
"I did not include them," Jean replied quietly.
Miss Stuart stared curiously at her over the edge of her teacup.
"It seems to me that a dance without men is rather a tame affair, and
I don't imagine the hotel will yield a very plentiful supply."
Jean lifted her chin defiantly.
"I was not speaking of the dance but of the drive over."
"Well, that is perfectly absurd," Emily broke in. "The idea of our
going over in one conveyance, and those poor men in another. What are
you thinking of, Jean?"
Miss Stuart laughed softly, while Jean vouchsafed never a word.
A glance of intelligence was flashed from Nan to Eleanor, and Nan
spoke up in good-natured raillery.
"Em, dear, have you ever heard that 'enough is as good as a feast.'
Jean probably remembered that it it is fully twelve miles there and
back and felt some qualms for fear her conversational ability would
desert her."
The laugh was general, for it was a joke of long standing that Jean
could talk to anyone, at any time, and under any circumstances,
however trying.
Helen looked from one to the other with puzzled eyes. She had an
uncomfortable consciousness that there was something in the air which
she did not understand. She put an end to the discussion with quiet
decision.
"There will be quite time enough to talk this over later. We must wait
and see how the weather turns out. Now, suppose we go downstairs and
have some music before we break up."
Later that evening she opened the subject again to Miss Stuart.
"I will tell you what I have decided, Lillian. We will hire the
Hetherford stage and all go over in that."
And Miss Stuart answered, with a tinge of triumph in her voice:
"That is certainly a most sensible plan, my dear."
So it was settled. Jean accepted the decision without a protest. Deep
in her heart she still cherished a strong hope that the
misunderstandings between Farr and herself might one day be cleared
away. She had acted contrary to her own wishes in excluding him from
the drive to Crescent Beach, and she admitted to herself,
shamefacedly, that she was glad the matter had been taken out of her
hands.