MRS. BLAKE HAS HER NEW GOWN
'Thou art a girl of noble nature's crowning:
A smile of thine is like an act of grace;
Thou hast no noisome looks, no pretty frowning,
Like daily beauties of a vulgar race.
When thou dost smile, a light is on thy face,
A clear, cool kindliness, a lunar beam
Of peaceful radiance, silvering o'er the stream
Of human thought with beauteous glory,
Not quite a waking truth, nor quite a dream:
A visitation--bright though transitory.'
HARTLEY COLERIDGE.
Audrey was much disappointed by the result of her conversation with her
cousin. It was true that Michael had tried to efface the severity of his
own words by remarking that a third interview might somewhat alter his
opinion of the fascinating widow--that he might even grow to like her in
time. Audrey knew better. Michael had a certain genius of intuition; he
made up his mind about people at once, and she had never known him to
reverse his decision. As far as regarded the younger members of the
Blake family, they would still be able to work happily together. Michael
was certainly much interested in Kester; he had adopted him in the same
manner as she had adopted Mollie. It was a comfort also that he approved
of Mr. Blake. Michael had spoken of him with decided approval, and
without any stint or limit of praise; nevertheless she was well aware
that Michael would willingly have restricted their intimacy, and that he
saw with some reluctance her father's growing partiality for the young
master.
Audrey had only spoken the simple truth when she owned that Michael's
approval was necessary to her perfect enjoyment of her friend. She might
still maintain her own opinions of Mrs. Blake. Nevertheless, the first
fine flavour of her pleasure had been destroyed by Michael's severe
criticism; the delicate bloom had been impaired. She would hold fast to
her new friend; she would even be kinder to her, as though to make up
for other people's hard speeches; but much of her enthusiasm must be
locked in her own breast.
'What is the use of talking on a subject on which we should only
disagree?' she said to him a week or two afterwards, when he had rebuked
her playfully for not telling him something. 'It was only a trifling
matter connected with Mrs. Blake.'
And when he heard that, Michael held his peace. He had been thrown
constantly into Mrs. Blake's company since their first meeting, but as
yet he had not seen fit to change his opinions.
But in spite of this little rift in her perfect harmony, Audrey
thoroughly enjoyed the next month; she was almost sorry that the
vacation was so near. It had been a very gay month. Relays of
visitors--distant relations or mere friends--had been invited to
Woodcote and Hillside. Mrs. Ross's garden-party had rivalled Mrs.
Charrington's, and there had been a succession of picnics, driving
parties, and small select dinners at all the Hill houses. But in spite
of her many engagements--her afternoons on the cricket-field, the tennis
tournament, in which she and Cyril Blake won, and various other
gaieties--Audrey had not neglected Mollie. Twice a week she devoted an
hour and a half to her pupil. When the music-lesson was over, Audrey
would read French with her or correct her exercises. She was a very
conscientious mistress, and would not allow Mollie to waste any of her
time in idle gossip. When she was putting away her books, Mollie's
voluble tongue would make amends for the enforced silence.
'Oh, Miss Ross,' she exclaimed one day, 'do you know, Cyril has given
mamma such a beautiful present! You will never guess what it is!'
Audrey prudently refrained from any guesses; besides, she was still
correcting Mollie's translation.
'It is a black silk dress--a real beauty, as mamma says. She has
borrowed Miss Marshall's last copy of the Queen, and she means to make
it up herself. Mamma is so clever! It is to have a long train; at least,
a moderately long train, and an open bodice--open in front, you
know--with tulle folds. Oh, I forget exactly; but mamma explained it to
me so nicely!'
'It was very kind of your brother,' observed Audrey gravely.
For once Mollie was not checked.
'Yes; isn't he a darling for thinking of it? He went to Attenborough
himself and chose it, and mamma thought he was on the cricket-field all
the time. He got her a pair of long gloves, too. Cyril always thinks of
everything. Mamma cried when she opened the parcel, she was so pleased;
and then Cyril laughed at her. The worst of it is'--and here Mollie's
face lengthened a little--'Kester will have to wait for his new suit,
and the poor boy is so shabby! Cyril went up to his room to tell him so;
because his leg was so painful, he had gone to bed early. Of course,
Kester said he did not mind a bit, and he would much rather that mamma
had her new gown and could go out and enjoy herself; but, all the same,
it is a little hard for Kester, is it not?'
'I don't think boys care about their clothes quite so much as girls do.'
'Oh, but Kester does; he is almost as particular as Cyril. He does love
to have everything nice, and I know he is ashamed of that old jacket. He
has outgrown it, too, and the sleeves are so short; and now he is so
much with Captain Burnett, he feels it all the more. Oh, do you know,
Miss Ross'--interrupting herself--'Captain Burnett is going to drive
Kester to Brail in his dogcart!'
'That will be very nice. But, Mollie, you really must leave off
chattering; you have translated this sentence quite wrongly. This is not
one bit the sense.' And Mollie did at last consent to hold her tongue.
Audrey took her mother into her confidence that afternoon as they were
dining together, and told her the whole story about the black silk
dress. Mrs. Ross was much interested.
'How very nice of him!' she said, in just the sympathetic tone that
Audrey expected to hear. 'I said from the first that I liked Mr. Blake;
I told your father so. He is a good son. I am not a bit surprised that
his mother dotes on him. I am sure I should if he were my son;' and Mrs.
Ross heaved a gentle little sigh under her lace mantle.
She knew her husband had ardently desired a son, and, until Michael's
troubles had made him almost an inmate of the house, there had been a
certain void and unfulfilled longing in Dr. Ross's breast. Not that he
ever spoke of such things; but his wife knew him so well.
'Perhaps one day he will have a grandson,' she thought; for her motherly
imagination loved to stretch itself into the future.
'Don't you think we might ask Mrs. Blake to dinner next week, when your
cousin Rose is here?' she observed presently. 'Rosie will be charmed
with her; and we could get the Cardells to meet her, and perhaps the
Vicar and Mrs. Boyle. You know they have not been to dine with us for a
long time.'
'Very well, mother. I have not the slightest objection,' returned
Audrey, who had in fact been leading up to this. 'I suppose you will ask
Gage too?'
'Oh, of course!' for Mrs. Ross never considered any party complete
without the presence of her eldest daughter. 'We must find out which day
will suit her best.'
'I do not believe Percival will let her come,' returned Audrey calmly.
'He says she is going out too much, and tiring herself dreadfully. I
heard him tell her that he meant to be more strict with her for the
future.'
'Dear Percival, how good he is to her! I always told your father that he
would make her an excellent husband. Your father was not a bit
enthusiastic at first--he liked Percival, and thought him an exceedingly
able man; but he never did think anyone good enough for his girls. You
will find him hard to please when your turn comes, Audrey.'
'My turn will be long in coming,' she replied lightly. 'Well, if
Percival prove himself a tyrant, whom do you mean to have in Gage's
place?' And then they resumed the subject of the dinner-party.
Things turned out as Audrey predicted: Mr. Harcourt would not allow his
wife to accept her mother's invitation.
'She has been over-exerting herself, and must keep quiet,' he said to
his mother-in-law when he next saw her at Hillside. 'I tell her that
unless she is prudent, and takes things more quietly, she will not be
fit for her journey to Scotland--and then all our plans will be upset.'
For a charming arrangement had been made for the summer vacation. Dr.
Ross had taken a cottage in the Highlands for his family, and Mr.
Harcourt had secured a smaller one, about half a mile off, for himself
and his wife. Michael was to form part of the Ross household, and during
the last week or two he and Audrey had been putting their heads together
over a benevolent scheme for taking Kester. There was a spare room in
their cottage, and Mrs. Ross had asked Audrey if she would like one of
her cousins to accompany them. Audrey had hesitated for the moment.
Mollie had been in her thoughts, but when she had hinted at this to
Michael, he had said somewhat decidedly that, in his opinion, Kester
ought to be the one to have the treat.
'He would be company for me, too,' he added, 'when you and your father
go on your fishing expeditions. And he will not be a bad third, either,
when you honour us with your company.'
Audrey had a great wish to take Mollie. She thought how the girl would
enjoy those long rambles across the purple moors, but she was open to
reason: as Michael had pointed out to her, Kester certainly needed the
change more than Mollie. It would be good for Michael to have a
companion when she and her father and Percival went on one of their long
expeditions. The boy had been drooping sadly of late--the heat tried
him--and, as Audrey knew, Biddy's homely dishes seldom tempted his
sickly appetite.
Mr. Harcourt was not aware of this little plan. When he uttered his
marital protest Geraldine looked at her mother with a sort of resigned
despair.
'You hear what Percy says, mother. I suppose you must ask someone else
in my place.'
'But I am not going without you,' returned her husband good-naturedly.
'Your mother would not want me, my dear, under those circumstances. We
will stay at home, like Darby and Joan, by our own ingle-side.'
'Oh, then you can ask the Drummonds,' went on Geraldine, in a relieved
voice. 'Audrey ought to have reminded you of them, but she seems to
think only of the Blakes. I suppose you will be obliged to ask Mr.
Blake, too, mother?'
'Yes, certainly, my dear. Mrs. Blake would not like to come without her
son. It will be a large party, but----'
'Well, it cannot be helped, I suppose; but Percy and I think it is
rather a pity----' Here Geraldine gave a slight cough, warned by a look
from her husband.
'What is a pity, my dear?'
'Oh, it does not matter--at least, Percy does not wish me to speak.'
'Geraldine is rather like the dog in the manger,' interrupted Mr.
Harcourt. 'Because I will not let her come to your dinner-party, she
would rather you did not have one at all. That is it, isn't it, Jerry?'
Mrs. Ross smiled benevolently at this little sally. She liked to hear
her son-in-law's jokes. She never joked Geraldine herself, and so she
seldom saw that girlish blush that was so becoming.
When she had taken her leave, Geraldine said to her husband:
'Why did you stop me just now when I was dropping that hint about Mr.
Blake?'
'Because I thought the hint premature, my dear,' he returned drily, 'and
because it is not our place to warn Mr. Blake off the premises; he is
not the first young man, and I do not expect he will be the last, to
admire Audrey.'
'But, Percy, I am quite sure that Mr. Blake is too handsome and too
attractive altogether to be a harmless admirer.'
'Pooh! nonsense, my love. Don't let your imagination run away with you.
Audrey is too sensible a girl to let herself fall in love with a young
fellow like Blake. Now shall I go on with our book?' For that day
Geraldine was considered an invalid, and as her husband thought fit to
indulge and make much of her, she was not so sure she disliked her
passing indisposition, any more than Mr. Harcourt disliked playing Darby
to his handsome Joan.
The dinner-party passed off well, and Mrs. Blake looked so lovely in her
new gown that she made quite a sensation, and the Vicar observed to his
wife afterwards 'that she was the nicest and most agreeable woman he had
met for a long time.'
Mrs. Boyle received this eulogium a little coldly. She was a fat, dumpy
little person, with a round, good-natured face that had once been
pretty. 'Bernard might admire Mrs. Blake,' she said to herself,--'she
was the sort of woman men always raved about; but for her part she was
not sure she admired her style,' but she had the rare magnanimity to
keep her opinions to herself. Mrs. Boyle never contradicted her husband
after the peevish manner of some wives.
The term was drawing to a close now, and Mollie's face lengthened a
little every day. Audrey had mooted the scheme to her father during a
walk they had together, and Dr. Ross, who was one of the most benevolent
and kindly of men, had at once given his consent, and had promised to
speak to Michael, who carried it through with a high hand.
Great was the rejoicing in the Blake household. Poor Kester had turned
red and white by turns, and could hardly speak a word, so intense was
his surprise; but Audrey, who saw the lad's agony of embarrassment,
assured him that there was no need for him to speak, and that everything
was settled.
Cyril was almost as embarrassed when he came in to thank them that
evening.
'I have never heard of such kindness in my life,' he said eagerly, when
he found Audrey alone; for the others were all in the garden, as she
told him. 'I will go to them directly. Of course I must speak to Captain
Burnett. I hear it is his thought. Am I interrupting you?' looking at
her open desk. 'May I stay a moment?'
'Certainly, if you like.'
But Audrey did not resume her seat. She stood by the lamp, its crimson
shade casting ruddy gleams over her white dress. She had coiled her hair
loosely--Audrey was given to dressing herself hurriedly--and one long
plait had become unfastened. It looked so smooth and brown against her
white neck. At such moments Audrey certainly looked pretty. Perhaps
Cyril thought so, for he looked at her long and earnestly.
'I hardly know how to thank you all,' he went on almost abruptly. 'My
mother feels the same. It is such a weight off my mind. You know, I am
going to Cornwall myself; one of our Keble men has invited me. His
father has a nice place near Truro.'
'That will be a pleasant change for you,' she observed sympathetically.
'Oh, I always turn up trumps,' he replied brightly. 'Last Christmas, and
again at Easter, I had heaps of invitations. I was only bothering myself
about Kester: he looked so seedy, you know, and it seemed such hard
lines for him, poor boy! to see me go off and enjoy myself.'
'Well, you see, Kester means to enjoy himself too.'
'Don't I know that? He is a lucky fellow!' and Cyril sighed--a good
honest sigh it was, too, for Audrey heard it. 'Just fancy seven weeks in
paradise!'
'Well, it is very lovely there,' she answered demurely; and then she
discovered the stray lock, and pinned it up hastily.
'Oh, I was not meaning the place--though, of course, everyone knows
Braemar has its advantages. I think one's happiness depends more on the
society one has. Don't you think so too, Miss Ross?'
'I daresay you are right. Well, we shall have my sister and her husband,
and Kester and Captain Burnett; so we shall be a nice party.'
'Oh yes, of course Captain Burnett is going?' returned Cyril, in a
dubious tone.
'Yes; and I suppose you think he is lucky too?' and there was a gleam of
fun in Audrey's eyes.
'Not more so than usual; the gate of paradise is never shut on Captain
Burnett.'
But though Cyril laughed as he made this little speech, there was no
expression of mirth in his eyes. But Audrey chose to consider it a joke.
'If you talk in this manner, I shall think you envy Kester his treat.'
'I am afraid I do envy him, Miss Ross. If Kester and I could only change
places----'
He checked himself as though he had said too much, and turned to the
window.
'You will find them all on the circular bench,' she said, sitting down
to her desk again. 'When I have finished my letter I will join you.' And
Cyril took the hint.
'I wish he would not say such things; but, of course, he is only
joking,' thought Audrey. But in her heart she knew he was not joking.
Could she be ignorant that on all possible occasions Mr. Blake followed
her like a shadow--a very quiet, unobtrusive shadow; but, nevertheless,
he seemed always near. Could she be blind to the wistful looks that
seemed to watch her on all occasions, and that interpreted her every
wish? Perhaps no one else noticed them--Audrey fervently hoped
not--unless it were his mother. And here Audrey reddened at the
remembrance of certain vague hints and innuendoes that had latterly made
her uncomfortable, and hindered her from going to the Gray Cottage.
'Perhaps I am too friendly with him. I do not check him sufficiently,'
she thought. 'But he has never said such things before. He ought not; I
must not allow it. What would Gage or Michael say? Dear old Michael! how
excited he is about our Scotch trip! He says he shall be so pleased to
have my undivided attention again. I wonder, have I been less nice to
Michael lately? He has certainly seemed more dull than usual. I will
make up for it--I will indeed! Michael shall never be dull if I can help
it, I mean to devote myself to him.' And then Audrey took up her pen
with a sigh. Was she really glad the term was so nearly over? It had
been such a nice summer. Of course she would enjoy Scotland, with all
her own people round her, and there would be Kester. Kester would write
to his brother sometimes, and, of course, there would be letters in
reply. That would be pleasant. Oh yes, everything was delightful! And
with this final thought Audrey set herself resolutely to work, and
finished her letter just in time to see Cyril take his leave. He had
waited for her with the utmost impatience, but when Mrs. Ross complained
of chilliness, and proposed to return to the house, he had no excuse for
lingering any longer, and Michael, with some alacrity, had accompanied
him to the gate.