THE GAME AT CHESS.
A few more words passed, then Margaret said:
"Miss Chase, let me present Mr. Hinchley to you."
The lady bowed slightly in return to the stranger's salutation, looked
keenly from under her long eyelashes, and turned again toward Miss
Waring, who, in spite of her assertions, was greatly terrified and
shaken, as Sybil plainly detected through all her forced spirits.
"By the luckiest chance in the world, Hinchley rode up at the very
moment Margaret fell," said Laurence.
"I was very fortunate in being so opportune in my arrival," replied the
young man.
"We have not even asked how you happened to get here so unexpectedly,"
said Margaret.
"I saw Dr. Thorne in town this morning, and he told me that Uncle
Gerald had been quite ill again, so I took the late train up--luckily,
Smith, at the depot, had a horse to lend me."
"Uncle Gerald is better," Margaret said.
"I am glad to hear it; those attacks get so much worse that I was quite
alarmed."
"He seems very much shaken by this one," Laurence said; "but the doctor
thinks he will soon get better; the warm weather is coming on, and that
always agrees with him, you know."
"You will stay a week or so, Ralph," Margaret said.
"As long as I can; it depends on my news from town."
"Miss Waring looks pale," interrupted Sybil, whose head was still
averted from Hinchley.
"Are you really hurt, Margaret?" asked Hinchley.
"Not in the least," she replied; but her voice trembled a little.
"She is frightened, of course," said Sybil; "who could help it? I am
sure she will not ride again this season."
"I think she is cured of such fears," returned Laurence.
"Oh yes," answered Margaret, hastily. "But let us ride home; it is
getting late, and uncle will want to see Ralph before going to bed."
The three rode through the gates, which Miss Chase had left open, while
that lady followed at a little distance.
"We are leaving her all alone," said Margaret, in a low voice, to
Laurence.
"That is true; and it scarcely looks civil," he replied. "Ride on to
the house, Margaret, with Hinchley, and I will walk with her."
"Very well," Margaret said, unable longer to conceal her nervousness,
and not sorry that she could have an opportunity to recover herself
before again enduring her betrothed husband's somewhat impatient
scrutiny.
The pair rode on; Mr. Laurence dismounted from his horse, and stood in
the avenue as Miss Chase approached.
"You look in this moonlight pale and melancholy as a knight-errant,"
she said, playfully.
"I am waiting for you," he replied.
"Indeed, there was no necessity."
"Does that mean you prefer to walk alone?"
"I am not much given to incivility, you know; I did not wish to detain
you from your friends."
"Oh, they will take care of each other," he replied. "I wonder you
don't say something about him--you are less susceptible than most young
ladies. Hinchley is a great favorite."
"Please do not slander my sex, Mr. Laurence, or we shall quarrel at
once."
"And you will conquer me, as you always do at chess! But at all events,
you can not be offended at my saying that you are different from
youthful females in general; almost any other would have asked twenty
questions in a breath about the stranger."
"But Mr. Hinchley is hardly a stranger," she replied.
"Oh, that is true; but I believe you have never met him before."
"No; but I have heard Miss Waring talk so much of her favorite cousin,
and Mr. Waring is always sounding his praises."
"He is almost like a brother to Margaret; I wonder you never saw him
when you were here before."
"He was in Europe," replied Sybil, indifferently. "I am sorry Margaret
received that fright."
"I wish she had a little of your courage."
"I have been accustomed to ride from childhood--"
"And are the best horsewoman I ever saw."
"I ought to deny it, but shall not. At all events, I am not in the
least afraid of Robin Hood nor of Sir Charles here;" as Sybil spoke,
she offered the horse one of the roses she held in her hand. "That is
a treat which the baronet appreciates," she added. "He isn't often fed
with roses."
"What a waste of sentiment," he replied, "to feed a horse on what any
man would covet."
"He is grateful for them, at all events."
"Perhaps his master would be more grateful still; you have not tried
him."
She laughed, selected a beautiful bud from the bunch, and looked at it
for a moment. When he reached forth his hand, she drew back the flower
with a gesture too pretty to be called coquetry.
"No; Sir Charles shall have that, and Miss Waring will like the rest."
He was a little annoyed; any man would have been treated with this
seeming indifference whether he cared for the person or not.
"You are determined never to be friends with me," he said.
"On the contrary, I have to thank you and everybody here for a great
deal of kindness."
"I am sure both Margaret and Mr. Waring feel much obliged to you; her
health is so delicate, that the house would have been in hopeless
disorder except for your attention, and the old gentleman considers you
perfection."
"It is very pleasant to be appreciated," she answered, gayly. "At
least, you ought to thank me; I kept Miss Waring from dying of regret
during your absence."
"Margaret would never die from any such feeling," he replied,
impatiently.
"I think where she loves, all her feelings are centered."
"Ah, Miss Chase, romance fades rapidly during a long engagement."
"So all engaged people tell me," she answered; "I shall take warning
from this experience of others. But we must walk faster; Miss Waring
will think us lost, unless Mr. Hinchley is charming enough to make her
forget our absence."
"I think Margaret does not care much for the society of gentlemen."
"Not in general, I believe."
"Nor in any particular case, I should hope," he said, quickly. "We
quarrel a great deal, as you know, Miss Chase, but I have never thought
coquetry among her faults."
"Nor I."
"Hinchley is greatly admired by young ladies," pursued Laurence; "but
he seems to care very little about it."
"He is very handsome--"
"Why, you hardly looked at him."
"I was quoting Miss Waring--incorrectly, however."
"What did she say?"
"That he had a very noble face--something above mere beauty."
"She was quite eloquent," he said, dryly.
"Oh no; but we were alone, and could not be silent."
"And so you talked of Ralph Hinchley?"
"Naturally enough, as he is her nearest relative. Are you blaming Miss
Waring or me?"
"Neither, I assure you."
"Mr. Hinchley is dependent upon his profession, I believe."
"Yes; I fancy he is not rich at all."
"There I can sympathize with him."
"Have you come to that?"
"Don't make me appear silly! If Margaret were here, I should say
something that you might construe into a compliment."
"You have never paid me one--"
"I never do compliment people whom I respect; that may account for it."
"But what would you have said?"
"That the men I have been in the habit of meeting since I came here
have made me difficult to please, so that quite young gentlemen seldom
strike me favorably."
"Oh, that is flattery--"
"It would have been to Miss Waring."
"How so?"
"A compliment to her taste in selecting you as a husband."
By that time they had reached the veranda, and as she spoke the last
words, Miss Chase ran up the steps, humming a song, and entered the
hall just as Margaret descended the stairs, after having exchanged her
habit for a dress more suitable to the house.
"Are you better?" Sybil asked.
"Yes; but I was terribly frightened, though I would not have Mr.
Laurence know it for the world--my timidity annoys him so much."
"He is coming," whispered Miss Chase.
"Please come and make the tea," said Margaret; "my hands shake yet."
Mr. Laurence joined them in the hall.
"Well, you are not frightened, now it is all over?" he asked.
"No, not much; anyway, I am unhurt."
Miss Chase threw back the hood of her cloak, and accompanied them into
the library; a glance at the hall-glass had convinced her that her
appearance was picturesque. She stood a second in the door, took off
the pretty blue mantle and laid it on a sofa; the breeze had given her
a color, and her hair an added wave, particularly becoming.
Margaret ensconced herself in an easy-chair near the fire, which had
been kindled to give an appearance of comfort to the room, although the
night was too warm to render it necessary. Miss Chase seated herself by
the tray, while Laurence turned to Margaret:
"Where is Hinchley?"
"Gone up to see uncle; he will be down in a moment."
The gentleman entered as she spoke. Sybil Chase was occupied, and did
not look up. He gave her a quick glance, started, and a perplexed look
passed over his face as if he fancied that he had seen her before, and
was trying to remember where; then it faded, and he sat down near his
cousin.
"Uncle has gone to bed," he said; "he looks very ill to-night."
"But he is better, I am sure he is," she replied, anxiously.
"I hope so," he answered; and, remarking her agitation, changed the
subject at once. "Have you been trouting, Laurence?" he asked. "I
remember your old passion."
"I was out the other day, but we will go again--an expedition for the
ladies. Are you fond of trout-fishing, Miss Chase?"
"Yes; I must plead guilty to the weakness and cruelty."
"And you, Margaret?"
"I shall like to go; but I never have any success."
"And you think it wicked, I believe?" he replied, carelessly, and with
a little irony, such as was often apparent in the conversations between
the two lovers.
"No matter what I think," she replied, smiling pleasantly enough,
although displeased at his manner; "I will not force my private
convictions upon any of you."
"But you will have a cup of tea?" said Miss Chase.
Mr. Hinchley went to the table, and taking the cup from Sybil, carried
it to his cousin.
"Hester has treated us to marmalade," said Laurence, laughing, as he
approached the table.
"Which I am morally certain you will spill on the carpet--won't he,
Miss Waring?"
"Of course; do keep him at the table, for the sake of the new carpet we
both admire so much."
"Then the whole dish of marmalade will be in danger," said Laurence.
"Miss Chase will wisely move it," added Hinchley.
"I think I must," added Sybil, "but there, you shall have a very large
spoonful; it is better than roses."
She put the conserve upon his plate, took up her flowers that lay on
the table, and added:
"I picked these for you, Miss Waring; they are from your favorite bush."
She gave them to Hinchley to carry to Margaret; Mr. Laurence ate his
marmalade and looked a little vexed.
"They are beautiful roses," Hinchley said.
"Very," Margaret replied, putting them carelessly in her hair; "you
shall have a bud to reward you for not having purloined the whole
bunch."
She selected a half-open rose and handed it to him. Miss Chase smiled
imperceptibly.
"May I have a cup of tea, Miss Chase?" asked Laurence, adding, as he
bent toward her: "You were over fastidious, you see."
Not a word answered Sybil--just the slightest elevation of her
eyebrows, the least possible expression of surprise about her mouth;
yet, by that mere nothing, she contrived to show that she disapproved
of the innocent and thoughtless act, but meant to keep any such feeling
to herself.
The evening passed pleasantly enough. Mr. Laurence forgot his momentary
vexation, the cause of which he could scarcely have told. He challenged
Miss Chase to a game of chess, and she consented.
While the two played, Margaret and Mr. Hinchley sat by the fire, and
talked of their uncle, the pleasures of old times, new books, and the
thousand other trifles, about which people who have no deep feelings in
common converse together.
Miss Chase lost the game, because she had made up her mind to be
defeated; but the next she won. Still, during the whole evening her
attention was not sufficiently fixed upon either board or moves to
prevent her hearing and seeing every thing that passed around her.