As has already appeared, there were two families of Trevelyans among the
Follitts’ friends. The Lincolnshire branch was usually described as the
mad lot, because at least two members of the family had disappeared
suddenly from society, and as it had never been said that they were
dead, it was quite easy to say that they were insane. There were
numerous more or less idle tales about these two and concerning their
property, of which the sane members were supposed to be enjoying the
income.
The ballooning branch, which Lionel thought rather the madder of the
two, was represented by old Major Trevelyan, who had invented an
airship that would not move, his married son, and his daughter Anne, who
were enthusiastic aëronauts, but had no belief at all in the old
gentleman’s invention; on the other hand, their confidence in their own
methods was boundless, and several rather serious accidents had left it
quite undiminished.
Young Mrs. Trevelyan sided with her father-in-law, for in her heart she
was a dreadful coward in the air, though she feared nothing on land or
water; and she found that the best way to be left at home was to quarrel
with her husband and sister-in-law about ripping-lines, safety-valves,
detachable cars, and other gear. When an ascent was not far off, and her
husband, as usual, showed signs of wishing her to accompany him, the
wise little lady would get the old gentleman to coach her thoroughly in
his own views, which she then proceeded to air and defend till her
husband lost his temper and flatly refused to take her with him, which
was precisely the end she desired to gain.
There had lately been one of those ascents which, in the ordinary course
of things, had been followed by a descent with some of those results
that are frequent in ballooning, if not inevitable. When the three
younger members of the family appeared, Anne Trevelyan’s handsome nose
was decorated with a fine strip of court plaster and her brother had a
sprained wrist, which obliged him to carry his arm in a sling. But they
all seemed very happy and united, for young Mrs. Trevelyan was the last
person in the world to say “I told you so.”
Lady Jane approved of ballooning, in principle, because it was
distinctly “sporting,” but she thought it dangerous compared with
motoring.
“It’s all very well,” retorted Anne Trevelyan, “but you could count on
your fingers the people you have ever heard of who have been killed by
balloons, whereas every one I know has either killed or been killed by
motors.”
“I am quite sure I never killed a human being,” answered Lady Jane; “and
I’m quite alive myself.”
“Yes, but how long will it last?” inquired Miss Anne cheerfully.
“And as for danger,” answered Lady Jane, “whenever I see you, you have
just escaped with your life! It’s quite needless to ask why you have a
large piece of court plaster on your beautiful nose, my dear, isn’t it?”
“Oh, quite!”
As no new ascent was being talked of, Mrs. Trevelyan did not take Lady
Jane’s side, and the subject was soon dropped. Moreover, in the course
of the afternoon a thing so new and surprising happened that it drove
all other questions out of the field of interest in the Follitt family.
Lionel actually went for a walk with his sisters and the new governess.
He made no secret of it, and his start with the girls and Miss Scott was
witnessed by the assembled party soon after luncheon. They were all in a
large room which was neither a hall, nor a library, nor a drawing-room,
nor anything else directly definable. In the days when the children had
been much smaller, but not quite small enough to be kept out of the way,
it had been their general place of meeting, and the Colonel had
christened it the “mess-room,” because, as he explained, it was always
in such a mess. Each member of the family had a place in it which was
regarded as his or her own--a particular chair, a particular table or a
corner of a table, with a place for books and newspapers. Lady Jane
often wrote her letters there instead of in her morning room, and the
Colonel had a small desk before a window, which he preferred to the much
more luxurious arrangements in his study; the three young men often
lounged there on rainy days, and even the girls kept what they called
their work in an old-fashioned work-basket-table before a small sofa
which was their coign of vantage; for by keeping very quiet they
sometimes made their elders forget their presence, and they heard many
interesting things.
Ordinary acquaintances were never asked into the mess-room, and were not
likely to find their way to it uninvited, as it was not in direct
communication with the other large rooms on the ground floor, and could
only be reached by a small dark passage which was entered from the hall
by a half-concealed door. But the Trevelyans had lately been promoted
out of acquaintanceship to the rank of friends--partly, perhaps, because
Lady Jane hoped that Lionel might take it into his head to fall in love
with Anne, who had always shown, or pretended to show, an unaccountable
preference for him. His mother could not imagine why in the world a
handsome and rather dashing sort of girl, who was almost too fond of
society, should be attracted by that one of the brothers whom almost
every one thought the least attractive; but since it was so, and since
Anne was a thoroughly nice young woman, and since it was evidently the
eldest son’s duty to marry, Lady Jane did all she could to bring the two
together; and she was not at all pleased when she heard her husband’s
exclamation of surprise on seeing that Lionel was actually going for a
walk with his sisters and the governess.
“Upon my word, my dear, I never expected to see that.”
Lady Jane was near him, and looked out; the others heard, and went to
different windows to see what was the matter.
“In a long and misspent life,” said Claude, who was not twenty-two, “I
have never seen anything more extraordinary.”
“I say, governor,” asked Jocelyn, “there’s no insanity in our family, is
there?”
“I’m not sure,” answered the Colonel. “I believe I once paid your debts,
my boy. That’s always a bad sign.”
Jocelyn did not smile. “Taken in connection with the fact that I never
made any more,” he answered, “it certainly looks as if we were
threatened with softening of the brain.”
“And this settles it,” put in Claude, watching the fast disappearing
figures of Lionel and Miss Scott, who were already walking side by side
behind the two girls.
“It’s a safe and harmless madness, at all events,” laughed Anne
Trevelyan, who was close behind Jocelyn and looking over his shoulder.
But the surprise of the party in the mess-room was nothing to the
amazement of Evelyn and Gwendolen, who could not believe their eyes and
ears. Their taste for forbidden amusements and sports, and their
intimate alliance and mutual trust during a long career of domestic
crime, had given them an almost superhuman power of concealing their
emotions at the most exciting moments. When they saw that Lionel was
coming with them, they behaved as naturally as if it were an everyday
occurrence; but as soon as they were half a dozen paces in front of the
other two they exchanged glances of intelligence and suspicion, though
Evelyn only said in an unnecessarily loud tone that it was “a capital
day for a walk,” and Gwendolen answered that it was “ripping.” They
remembered that they had more than once derived great advantage from not
altogether dissimilar circumstances; for although none of their brothers
had exhibited such barefaced effrontery as to go to walk with them and
the governess of the moment, nevertheless it had often happened that
their former tormentors had disappeared from the schoolroom, or during
the afternoon, for as much as an hour at a time, during which the girls
left undone those things which they ought to have done and did a variety
of other things instead.
On the present occasion they were surprised, but they never lost their
nerve, and by the time they were six paces in front they were both
already intent on devising means for increasing the distance to a
quarter of a mile. Having been allowed to lead the way, it was natural
that they should take the direction of the moor, where escape would be
easy and pursuit difficult; besides, once there, it was easy to pretend
that there was a cat in sight, and a cat on a grouse moor is anathema
maranatha, with a price on its head, and to chivvy it is a worthy action
in the eyes of all sportsmen. Cats were scarce, it was true, but Lionel
and Miss Scott would be talking together, and how could either of them
swear that there was no cat? As a preliminary measure, the two increased
their speed at the first hill, and Lionel, who was in extreme haste to
ask questions of his companion, refused to walk any faster than before.
In a few moments, Evelyn and Gwendolen, though well in sight, were out
of earshot.
“Why didn’t you tell me that you had had an accident?” asked Lionel in a
low tone.
“Because it would not have been true,” answered Miss Scott, limping
along beside him.
“But you are lame,” objected Lionel.
“Very!”
“And you’ve got one shoulder higher than the other.”
“It’s quite noticeable, isn’t it?”
“And your figure and your complexion----”
“Awful, aren’t they? I suppose I’m absolutely repulsive, am I not?”
The girls were forging steadily ahead.
“No, dear, you never could be that to me,” answered Lionel earnestly.
“I’m very anxious about you, that’s all.”
“There’s really no cause for anxiety, I assure you.”
“But if you have not had an accident you must at least have been very
ill?”
“Oh, no,” answered Miss Scott in an indifferent tone; “only a little
influenza since I saw you two months ago. I don’t call that an illness,
you know.”
“I’m not sure,” answered Lionel very gravely. “I’ve often heard that the
influenza may have very serious consequences. I call being lame quite
serious enough.”
“I daresay it will get better,” said Miss Scott cheerfully. “I am quite
sure that this kind of lameness can be cured. I’m sorry to have given
you such an unpleasant impression.”
“Painful would be a better word,” said Lionel. “I never had such a shock
in my life as when you came into the breakfast-room this morning.”
“Yes, I saw. I suppose I had not realised how changed I am.”
“If you would only do your hair as you used to,” Lionel said, “it would
be better. Why in the world have you taken to drawing it back in that
way?”
“Did you see your mother’s advertisement?” asked Miss Scott.
“No. What had that to do with the way you do your hair?”
Instead of answering, Miss Scott produced a small newspaper cutting,
which she had carried inside her glove with the evident intention of
showing it to him. He took it, read it, and slipped it into his pocket
with a rather harsh little laugh. “That was ingenious,” he said; “but
the idea that you, of all people, could ever fulfil such outrageous
conditions!”
“I’m perfectly satisfactory, you see. I fill the place very well, and
Lady Jane is kindness itself.”
“I suppose that hideous frock is also meant to enhance the effect?”
“It does, doesn’t it?”
“Oh, yes, indeed it does! Most decidedly! But I should have thought that
what has happened to you would have been quite enough to satisfy my
mother, without making it so much worse.”
By this time they were up on the moor, which began not more than half a
mile from the great house. As Lionel spoke the last words he looked
sadly at Miss Scott’s blotched face; but it hurt him to see it, and he
looked away at once, following his sisters’ movements with his eyes. At
that very moment he saw them both stoop suddenly to pick up stones from
the rough moorland road; having armed themselves, they dashed away like
greyhounds from the leash, straight across the moor, in a direction
which would soon take them out of sight in the hollow beyond. Miss Scott
was watching them too, and showed signs of wishing to give chase at
once, but Lionel stopped her.
“They’ve probably seen a cat,” he said quietly.
Miss Scott, who knew nothing about moors, did not understand.
“Cats kill the young birds,” Lionel explained. “The best thing we can
do is to sit down and wait. It won’t hurt them to have a good run.”
As Miss Scott sat down on a boulder by the roadside, he caught sight of
the thick sole of her right shoe for the first time. He had often seen
cripples wearing just such a shoe on one foot, and he started a little
and drew his breath sharply between his teeth as one does at a painful
sight. She understood, but was silent for a moment, though she instantly
drew back her foot under the edge of her tweed skirt.
“I was afraid it would make a dreadful difference to you,” she said,
“and I suppose I should never have let you see me like this.” He made a
quick movement. “No, dear,” she continued quietly, “I quite understand;
but I couldn’t resist the temptation to be near you.”
“Besides,” he answered, anxious to destroy the painful impression he
must have made on her, “you had written that you meant to come, if only
on trial. I thought it was a mad idea, but I found it just as impossible
to resist as you did, and I should have been awfully disappointed if you
had not come. Of course it would have been easier for me if I had
known--or if you had not done all you could to make it worse.”
She looked at him so steadily while he was speaking that he turned and
met her eyes; they seemed to be laughing, though her face was grave.
“I really couldn’t paint my cheek, could I?” she asked.
“Oh, no! I did not mean that.”
“But I have,” said Miss Scott with great gravity.
“What do you mean?” asked Lionel in amazement.
“I wash it off at night,” she answered. “It comes off quite easily.”
“What?” Lionel almost sprang to his feet. “Do you mean to say----”
“Yes,” answered Miss Scott, smiling. “I’ve made up for the part. It’s
well done, isn’t it? You know I belonged to the dramatic club at the
college, and they thought I was rather good at it. I always did the ugly
housemaids with colds in their heads and red noses.”
“Your nose too!”
“Yes, my nose too. The paint comes off my face; and this comes off.” She
stuck out the thick-soled shoe as she spoke. “And this comes off,” she
added, laying her hand on her shoulder and laughing. “And my figure is
just what it always was. Only my teeth and hair are real.”
At first Lionel stared at her with some alarm, as if he thought she
might be going out of her mind. But she only smiled and looked at him
quite quietly; and, now that he knew the truth, he saw the familiar face
that was dear to him as if it were not disfigured, and the sudden
understanding wrought such a quick revulsion in his feeling and so
greatly delighted his natural sense of humour, that he began to laugh
silently, as he sat leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, for he
had the grave disposition of a thoughtful scholar. But instead of
subsiding, his mirth grew by quick degrees, his shoulders shook, and his
face twisted till he felt as if his whole being were turning into one
vast joke; then, quite suddenly, he stuck out his feet in front of him,
leaned back, threw up his head, and broke into a peal of such ringing
laughter as the silent moor had never heard before. And Ellen Scott,
who had been dying to laugh for ten days, could not help joining him
now, though in a much more musical and pretty fashion; so there the
lovers sat on the boulder, side by side, laughing like a pair of
lunatics.
The air was bright and still, as it can be in the North of England when
the winter is just over and the earth is beginning to wake again, and to
dream of her returning loveliness, as a beautiful woman may who has long
lain ill in a darkened room. The clear laughter of the two echoed far
and wide, even down to the stream in the hollow, where the girls were
poking sticks under the big stones at one end of the pool to drive the
speckled trout out of their quiet lurking-places; and they were talking
in low tones and plotting to hide some fishing-tackle
[Illustration:
“Such ringing laughter as the silent moor had never heard before.”
]
out of sight near by, on the mere chance that they might before long get
an hour’s fishing while Lionel would be talking to Miss Scott. But the
instant they heard the far-off sound of mirth overhead, they ran up the
slope again, and dropped to the ground just behind a long familiar bunch
of gorse, whence they could watch the road unobserved. The manœuvre was
executed with a skill that would have done credit to a head stalker.
Lionel and Miss Scott were still laughing, but had reached the milder
stage of mirth which is like the after-taste of very dry champagne. They
were looking at each other, and it was quite evident to the experienced
eyes that watched them through the gorse that they were holding hands,
though the hands that were joined were not visible, but were held low
down between them, pressing the boulder on which they sat.
The two girls saw, understood, and rejoiced. They had firmly believed
that never, under any conceivable circumstances, could any male being
even think of holding Miss Scott’s hand; but the impossibility was an
accomplished fact before their eyes, and as they could not have any
reason for supposing that the two had ever met before, they both
instantly concluded that it was a case of love at first sight. Then they
looked at each other and they also laughed long and heartily, though not
a sound disturbed the air. When the fit was over, they whispered
together.
“I think it’s going to be all right,” said Evelyn, keeping her eye on
the couple.
“I’m jolly glad,” whispered Gwendolen. “I thought we were in for it this
time.”
“The last ten days have been awful,” said Evelyn, “haven’t they?”
“She’s a perfect demon,” replied the other. “I wish I knew some nice bad
words for her, that it wouldn’t be wrong or low-down form to say!”
“I’ve seen things in Shakespeare,” said Evelyn thoughtfully, “but I’m
not quite sure what they mean.”
“You can think them anyway,” suggested Gwendolen--“that’s better than
nothing; and you’ll show them to me when we get home, and I can think
them too. There can’t be anything wrong about that, can there?”
“I don’t think so,” answered Evelyn; “and we’ll never ask anybody, so we
can always think that the words are all right.”
“Do you suppose he’ll kiss her?” asked Gwendolen.
“Not to-day,” answered Evelyn, with the superior wisdom of an elder
sister. “They never do the first day; and besides, he’s sitting on the
side that has the blotch.”
“Well, then,” said Gwendolen, who had a more practical mind, “if there’s
not going to be anything more to see, and as we can’t hear what they are
saying, let’s go back and tickle the trout!”
Evelyn at once recognised that this was sound counsel, and with the
unanimity which characterised all their actions, the two crept backwards
till they were below the brow of the knoll, and then rose to their feet
and trotted down to the pool again in great gladness of heart.
“How long do you think you can keep it up?” Lionel asked at last. “It’s
utterly amusing and delightful, but I think it is just a little
dangerous for you.”
“At the first sight of danger I shall disappear into space,” answered
Miss Scott. “But I have a little plan of my own,” she added, “which I
mean to carry out if I can.”
“What is it?”
“It will succeed better if I keep you in the dark,” she answered. “In
the meantime give me some work to do for you in the evenings--copying or
looking up things. That will account for your talking to me sometimes,
don’t you see?”