'I AM SORRY YOU ASKED THE QUESTION'
'Thou must not be hurt at a well-meaning friend, though he shake
thee somewhat roughly by the shoulder to awake thee.'
_Quentin Durward._
Half an hour later Audrey had finished her game, and had resisted all
her partner's pleadings to give their opponents their revenge. She might
feel tempted--Mr. Blake played so splendidly--but she knew her duty to
her guests better than that.
'You must get another partner,' she said, with something of her sister's
decision. 'Here is Miss Fortescue; she has been sitting out a long time,
and she is a very good player. Gertrude'--raising her voice--'Mr. Blake
wants a partner. I am sure you will take pity on him.' And in this
manner Gertrude obtained her wish.
Perhaps she would rather have had her desire gratified in a different
manner--if Mr. Blake had asked her himself, for example. She was not
quite pleased at the tone in which he professed himself delighted to
play with Miss Fortescue; he fetched her racket a little reluctantly,
when Audrey pointed it out, and there was certainly no enthusiasm
visible in his manner as he suggested that Miss Cardell and her partner
were waiting for them.
'Do you know where my mother and Miss Ross have gone?' he asked, as they
took their place.
'Mrs. Blake asked Miss Ross to show her the pond. They are waiting for
you to serve, Mr. Blake;' and then Cyril did consent to throw himself
into the game. Miss Fortescue was a good-looking girl, and played well,
but she was not Miss Ross; nevertheless, Cyril had no intention of
accepting a beating, and he was soon playing as brilliantly as ever.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Blake was talking after her usual rapid fashion.
'What beautiful grounds! and so tastefully laid out, too. I have never
seen such a garden. I do love this succession of terraces, and those
trees with white leaves just striped with pink--what do you call them,
Miss Ross?'
Audrey told her they were white maple.
'Dear me! Did Dr. Ross plant them? They do look so well against that
dark background of trees. Everything is in such perfect taste and order,
and Cyril says it is the same in the house. The Bryces' establishment
was not half so well regulated. He declares Dr. Ross has a master-mind,
and, now I have talked to him, I am quite sure Cyril is right.'
'You must not expect me to contradict you. I think there is no one like
my father.'
'I daresay not. He is charming--positively charming! So this is the pond
Kester and Mollie rave about? What a sweet little place--so still and so
retired! But of course you can see the house from it. Is not that your
cousin, Captain Burnett?'--as they came in sight of the bench. 'It is
very much like him.'
'Yes, of course it is Michael!' and Audrey quickened her steps in
surprise. 'My dear Michael, when did you get back? No one knows of your
arrival.'
'I daresay not,' he returned somewhat gravely, as he shook hands with
her and bowed to Mrs. Blake. 'I only got in half an hour ago, and,
having no mind to mingle with the crowd, I sat here to get cool.'
'Have you had some tea, Michael?'
'Oh yes; Parker brought me some. Never mind me. How have you been
getting on?' looking at her attentively.
'Oh, very well.' But Audrey blushed a little uneasily under that kind
look. 'Mrs. Blake, I believe you have not met my cousin before?'
'I think we have met, Audrey.'
'To be sure we have!' responded Mrs. Blake, with her brightest smile. 'I
am so glad of this opportunity of speaking to you, Captain Burnett. I
hope Miss Ross gave you my message?'
'I don't believe I have had any message--have I, Audrey?' And Audrey
laughed a little guiltily; she did not always remember people's
messages.
Mrs. Blake shook her head at her.
'Oh, you traitress!' she exclaimed playfully. 'And I thought you, of all
people, were to be trusted. Captain Burnett, I must give my own message.
I want to thank you for your kindness to my poor boy.'
'He is not poor at all,' he replied lightly; but his keen blue eyes
seemed to take the measure, mental and physical, of the graceful-looking
woman before him. 'He is a very clever fellow, and will make his mark. I
can assure you I quite envy him his brains.'
'It makes me so proud to hear you say that. I often wonder why my
children are so clever; their father'--she checked herself, and then
went on in a more subdued key--'my poor husband had only average
talents, and as for me----' She left her sentence unfinished in a most
expressive way.
'Mollie says you are clever too, Mrs. Blake.'
'My dear Miss Ross, then Mollie--bless her little heart!--is wrong. Is
it my fault if those foolish children choose to swear by their mother?
Cleverness does not consist in chattering a little French and
Italian--does it, Captain Burnett? You and I know better than that, and
it will always be a lasting wonder to me why I have a son like my
Cyril.'
'You have two sons, Mrs. Blake.'
Something indefinable in Michael's tone made Mrs. Blake redden for a
moment; then she recovered herself.
'Yes, thank God! I have; but a widow's eldest son is always her prop.
Kester is a mere boy; he cannot help his mother much yet.'
'Kester is nearly sixteen, and will soon be a man; he is already very
thoughtful for his age. I am sure you will permit me to say that I
already take great interest in him; he has a wonderful thirst for
knowledge. I showed one of his translations to Dr. Ross, and he was
quite struck by it. You know, Dr. Ross is a fine Greek scholar.'
Mrs. Blake seemed much impressed; she was evidently taken aback. She was
generally so absorbed in her eldest son that she failed to give Kester
his due. The boy was shy and retiring with her; very likely he felt
himself unappreciated. Anyhow, it was certain that he sought sympathy
from everyone but his mother; and yet, in her own way, she was kind to
him.
Audrey was a little disappointed to find Michael so grave in his manner
to her charming friend--for such she already considered Mrs. Blake.
Michael was generally so nice and genial with people; he did not seem in
the least aware that he was talking to a pretty woman. In Audrey's
opinion, he seemed disposed to pick holes in Mrs. Blake's words and to
find matter for argument. Not that this would be apparent to anyone but
herself; but then she knew Michael so well. She could always tell in a
moment if he approved or disapproved of anyone. One thing was clear
enough to her, that Mrs. Blake was not at her ease. She lost her gay
fluency, and hesitated for a word now and then; and when they left the
lake and walked towards the tennis-ground, and Cyril intercepted them,
she gave him an appealing look to draw him to her side. But for once
Cyril was blind to his mother's wishes. He shook hands with Captain
Burnett, and then fell behind to speak to Audrey.
'Do you mean to say that you have finished your game already?' she
asked, in some surprise.
'No, indeed; only Mrs. Fortescue discovered that it was late, and took
her daughter away, and, of course, I could not beat them
single-handed--Wheeler is a crack player--so we made up our mind to
consider it a drawn game. You ought not to have thrown me over, Miss
Ross,' dropping his voice; 'it was hardly kind, was it?'
'Would you have me play with you and neglect all my other guests?' she
returned, smiling. 'I think you owe me some gratitude for providing you
with a partner like Gertrude Fortescue. She is one of our best players.'
'I would rather have kept the partner I had,' he replied, with unwonted
obstinacy; 'even in tennis one prefers one's own selection. I played the
first set far better.'
'I believe you are a little cross with me, Mr. Blake.'
'I!' startled by this accusation, although it was playfully made, and
reddening to his temples; 'I have no right to take such a liberty. No
man in his senses could be cross with you for a moment.'
'You are wrong. Michael is often cross with me.'
'Is he?' slackening his pace, and so compelling her to do the same,
until there were several yards between them and the couple in front.
'Captain Burnett seems to me far too good-natured; I should have said
there was not a spark of temper about him. I am rather hasty myself.'
'I am so glad you have warned me in time, Mr. Blake.'
'Why, do you meditate any special provocation?' Then, catching sight of
her dimple, his own face relaxed. 'I see you are laughing at me. I am
afraid I was not properly gracious to Miss Fortescue. I will make up for
it on Thursday at the Charringtons', and ask her to play. You will be
there?' with a note of anxiety in his voice.
'Oh yes; I shall be there, of course.'
'We must have one set together; you will promise me that?' and Cyril's
dark eyes looked full into hers.
'Yes, certainly.' But Audrey blushed a little. She felt a sudden desire
to hurry after the others; but her companion evidently held a different
opinion.
'Do you know Mrs. Charrington has asked my mother to come too?'
'No, indeed; but I am so glad to hear it.'
'She was most kind about it: she has promised to call on her to-morrow.
My mother is so pleased. Does she not look happy, Miss Ross? She is so
fond of this sort of thing--a dull life never suits her. She nearly
moped herself to death at Headingly; we were all uncomfortable there.'
'I think she will get on with the Rutherford people.'
'Indeed I hope so. Miss Ross, do you know, I am so vexed about something
my mother said the other afternoon, when Mrs. Ross and Mrs. Harcourt
were calling on her.' And as Audrey looked mystified, he went on slowly:
'She actually told them that she would accept no evening engagements,
and that she hoped no one would invite her to dinner.'
'Oh yes, I remember.'
'I am afraid they must have thought it very strange. I tell my mother
that she is far too frank and outspoken for our civilised age, and that
there is not the slightest need to flaunt our poverty in our neighbours'
faces.'
Cyril spoke with an air of unmistakable annoyance, and Audrey
good-naturedly hastened to soothe him. Her fine instinct told her that
his stronger and more reticent nature must often be wounded by his
mother's indiscreet tongue.
'I am afraid you are a little worldly-minded, Mr. Blake. I consider your
mother was far more honest.'
'Thank you,' in a low tone; 'but all the same,' returning to his usual
manner, 'it was premature and absurd to make such a statement. My mother
has to do as I like,' throwing back his handsome head with a sort of
wilfulness that Audrey thought very becoming, 'and I intend her to go
out. Miss Ross, I am going to ask you a very odd question, but there is
no other lady to whom I can put such an inquiry. Does it cost so very
much--I mean, how much does it cost--for a lady to be properly dressed
for the evening?'
Audrey did not dare to laugh, Cyril was so evidently in earnest; her
nice tact guarded her from making such a grievous mistake.
'Your question is a little vague, Mr. Blake; I hardly know what I am to
understand by it. Do you mean evening dress for one dinner-party or a
succession of dinner-parties? You know they are perpetual in Rutherford;
every house invites every other house to dinner. In Rutherford we are
terribly given to dining out.'
'Oh, I see; and relays of gowns would be required,' returned Cyril in a
dejected voice. 'I am afraid I must give it up, then. My mother would
certainly not be able to afford that for the present.'
'But when one wears black, a change of dress is not so necessary,'
interrupted Audrey eagerly. 'If I were poor, I should not allow poverty
to debar me from the society of my fellow-creatures, just because I
could not make as great a display as other people. No, indeed; I would
not be the slave of my clothes.'
'I can believe that,' with an admiring glance.
'I would have one good black dress--and it should be as nice as my means
would allow--and I would wear it everywhere, and I would not care a bit
if people looked as though they recognised it. "You are noticing my
gown!" I would say to them. "Yes, it is an old friend. Old friends are
better than new, and I mean to cling to mine. By and by, when I am a
little richer, I will buy another."'
'Miss Ross, if my mother could but hear you!'
'Tell her what I say, and bid her do the same. Black suits her so
perfectly, too.'
'Oh, she never means to wear anything else but black,' he returned
gravely.
'Let her get a soft silk--a Surah, for example--and if it be made
prettily and in the newest fashion, it will look well for a long time.
Yes'--reflectively--'Mrs. Blake would look well in Surah.'
'Would she? Do you mind telling me how to spell it?' and Cyril produced
his pocket-book.
'S-u-r-a-h.'
'Thank you a thousand times, Miss Ross! And about the cost--would five
pounds do?' looking at her anxiously.
'Oh yes, I should say that would do,' replied Audrey, who in reality
knew very little about it.
Mr. Blake would have done better to have consulted Geraldine, she
thought. Geraldine would have told him the price to a fraction of a
shilling; she would have directed him to the best shop for making an
excellent bargain. Geraldine had a genius for these practical things,
whereas she--Audrey--was liable to make mistakes.
'I am sure five pounds will do,' she repeated, by way of encouragement;
and again Cyril thanked her fervently.
There was no more opportunity for carrying on this interesting
discussion, for the others were now standing quite still in the
shrubbery walk, waiting for them to join them.
'My dearest boy, everyone has gone!' exclaimed Mrs. Blake, in a tone of
dismay. 'The tennis-lawn is empty!'
'What does that matter?' replied Audrey, hastening up to her with a
heightened colour, as she noticed a quick, observant look on Michael's
part. 'We have no rule for our Mondays; people come when they like, and
stay as long as they like.'
'But, still, to be the last to go, and this my first visit to Woodcote!'
rejoined Mrs. Blake uneasily. 'Cyril, you ought to have taken me away
long ago.'
'We will make our adieux now,' he returned carelessly, and not at all
affected by his mother's discomposure. 'Come, mother, I see Mrs. Ross
standing in the drawing-room window; she is evidently waiting for us.'
And Cyril drew his mother's hand through his arm.
Audrey and Michael followed them to the gate. Mrs. Blake kissed Audrey
with some effusion. Audrey, who, in spite of her large heart and wide
sympathies, was not a demonstrative person, would willingly have
dispensed with this little attention before the gentlemen. Mrs. Blake
had never offered to embrace her before. She had an idea, too, that
Cyril was not quite pleased.
'Come, come, mother,' he said impatiently, 'we are detaining Miss Ross;'
and he hurried her away.
Audrey would have returned to the house at once, but Michael asked her
to take another turn in the shrubbery.
'For I have not seen you for a whole week,' he grumbled; 'and it is
hardly possible to get a word with you now.'
'Well, you have me now,' she returned with assumed gaiety; but all the
time she wanted to be alone and think what Mr. Blake's parting look
meant. 'It was so--so----' Audrey could not quite find the word. 'And
now, Michael, I am ready.' Audrey was going to say, 'I am ready to hear
your opinion of Mrs. Blake;' but just at that moment she saw her father
coming to meet them.
Two is company, but three is none, as both Michael and Audrey felt at
that moment. Dr. Ross, on the contrary, joined them with the air of a
man who knows himself to be an acquisition. He tucked his daughter's
hand under his arm, and began questioning Michael about his week in
town.
As it happened, Michael had seen and done a good deal, and Audrey was
soon interested in what he had to tell them. She knew all Michael's
friends by name, and in this way could claim acquaintance with a large
circle. She was soon busily questioning him in her turn. Had he seen
that pretty little Mrs. Maddox? and was the baby christened? and who was
the second godfather? and so on, until the gong warned them to disperse.
The conversation at dinner ran on the same topics, but just before they
rose from the table Mrs. Ross asked Michael if he did not admire Mrs.
Blake.
'Very much, indeed,' he returned, without a moment's hesitation. 'She
has three very excellent points for a woman: she is pretty, lively, and
amusing. I had quite a long talk with her.' And then he changed the
subject--whether intentionally or unintentionally Audrey could not
tell--and began telling them about a picture one of his friends was
painting for the next Exhibition.
Michael was very much engaged the next few days. He had told Kester to
come to him every morning that week, to make up for the lessons he had
lost, and as a succession of garden-parties occupied Audrey's
afternoons, she did not find time for one of those confidential chats
with Michael which they both so much enjoyed. When Thursday came Michael
escorted her to the Charringtons' garden-party. Mrs. Ross and her
husband were to come later.
Audrey was amongst the tennis-players, but, as she passed to and fro
with her various partners, she saw Michael more than once talking to
Mrs. Blake. The first time he gave her a nod and a smile, but when she
passed them again he seemed too much engrossed with Mrs. Blake's lively
conversation to notice her.
Audrey had just finished her second game with Mr. Blake, and he was
taking her to the house in search of refreshments. As Audrey ate her
strawberries, she wondered a little over Michael's abstraction.
'He certainly seems to admire her,' she said to herself.
Michael and she were to dine at Hillside that evening, and as they
walked home together in the summer moonlight Audrey bethought herself at
last of asking that question.
'Michael, I want you to tell me what you think of Mrs. Blake? I am quite
sure you like her very much indeed.'
'You are wrong, then. I wonder what put such a notion in your
head--because I was talking to her so much this afternoon? That was more
her fault than mine. No, Audrey; I am sorry to say it, but I do not like
Mrs. Blake at all.'
'Michael!' and Audrey stood still in the road. This was a shock indeed!
She was prepared for criticism: Michael always criticised her friends;
he felt it a part of his duty; but this utter disapprobation was so
unexpected; it was crushing--absolutely crushing! Michael, too, whose
opinion she trusted so entirely! 'Oh, I hope you don't mean it--that you
are only joking,' she said, so earnestly that he felt a little sorry for
his abruptness; but it was too late to retract; besides, Michael never
retracted.
'I am sorry you asked me the question; but I am bound to tell you the
truth, you know.'
'And is it really the truth?' she asked a little piteously. 'It is very
soon for you to have made up your mind that you do not like her; why,
you have only spoken to her twice.'
'Yes; but I have had plenty of time to form my opinion of her. Look
here, Audrey, you must not be vexed with me. I would not have found
fault with your fair friend if you had not asked my opinion. Of course I
admire her; one has seldom seen a prettier woman, and her style is so
uncommon, too.'
'Don't, Michael; you will be praising her hair and complexion next, as
Gertrude Fortescue did the other afternoon. It is the woman, Mrs. Blake
herself, I want you to like.'
'Ah, just so!'
'And now I am so disappointed. Somehow I never enjoy my friends quite so
much if you do not care for them. I thought we always liked the same
people, but now----' Here Audrey stopped. She felt vexed and mortified;
she did want Michael to share her interest in the Blakes.
'And now you will look on me as a broken reed; but, after all, I am not
so bad. I like Kester--he is a fine fellow; and I like your little
friend Mollie--she is true as steel; and,' after a moment's pause, 'I
like Mr. Blake.'
'Are you quite sure of that, Michael?'
'Yes, I am quite sure of it. If I know anything of human nature, Mr.
Blake is worthy of my esteem: as far as any man is good, he is good. And
then he has such splendid capabilities.'
Audrey felt vaguely that this was generous on Michael's part; and yet
she could not have told herself why it was generous. If she had had an
idea of the truth! But as yet she was only dimly conscious of the
nobility of Michael's nature.
'Mr. Blake is clever,' he continued, 'but he does not think much of
himself; it is rare to find such modesty in a young man of the present
day. Still, he is very young; one can hardly tell what he may become.'
'Father says he is three-and-twenty, Michael.'
'Still, Audrey, a man's character is not always fully developed at
three-and-twenty; at that age I was a conceited cub. I am
seven-and-thirty now, and I feel my opinions are as settled as Dr.
Ross's are.'
'I wish you would not always talk as though you were father's
contemporary; it is so absurd, Michael, when everyone else thinks you a
young man!'
'I am a very old young man,' he returned with a whimsical smile; 'I have
aged prematurely, and my wisdom has developed at the same rapid rate.
Amongst my other gifts I have that of second-sight.'
'Indeed!' with incredulous scorn. 'You are not very humble in your own
estimation.'
'My dear, old young men are never humble. Well, my gift of second-sight
has put me up to a thing or two. Do you know,' turning away and
switching the hedgerows carelessly as he spoke, 'I should be very sorry
if any girl in whom I took a deep interest were to be thrown too much
into Mr. Blake's company.'
Audrey faced round on her cousin in extreme surprise.
'You are very incomprehensible to-night, Michael: at one moment you
praise Mr. Blake, and say nice things about him, and the next minute you
are warning people against becoming intimate with him--that is surely
very inconsistent.'
'Oh, there is method in my madness,' he returned quietly. 'I have
nothing to say against the young man himself. As far as I can tell,
there is no harm in him; but he is so young, and is such a devoted son,
that he is likely to be influenced by his mother.'
'And it is on her account that you would dislike any such intimacy? Oh,
Michael,' very sorrowfully, 'I had no idea you would dislike her so!'
'It seems rather unreasonable--such a pretty woman, too. On the whole, I
think I do like talking to her, she is so amusing. But, Audrey, I must
say one thing: you are always talking about her frankness. Now, I do not
agree with you.'
'I don't understand you, Michael. I have never known anyone so
outspoken.'
'Outspoken--yes. Well, I will explain myself. You are frank, Audrey; you
hide nothing, because there is nothing to hide; and if there were, you
would not hide it. Now, Mrs. Blake has her reserves; with all her
impulsiveness, she has thorough self-command, and would never say a word
more than suited her own purposes. It is her pleasure to indulge in a
wild, picturesque sort of talk; it is effective, and pleases people; and
Mrs. Blake, in common with other pretty women, likes to please. There is
no positive harm in it--perhaps not, but it detracts from reality.'
'But, Michael, I like to please people too.'
'Certainly you do. Have I not often called you a little hypocrite for
pretending to like what other people like! How often have we fallen out
on that point! But you and Mrs. Blake are very different people, my
dear; with all your faults, your friends would not wish to see you
changed.'
But the dark shade of the shrubbery walk they were just entering hid the
strangely tender look that was in Michael's eyes as he said the last
words.