II.

A Man may be a learned historian and a dignitary of the Church, and

yet retain a good deal of that diffidence which is more becoming than

common among his juniors. Canon Stanwick, for one, carried modesty

almost to the dimensions of a vice. He was very shy of young men; he

did not know what to say to them; he felt convinced--possibly not

without reason--that they must find him an old bore; and how to

ingratiate himself with a dashing young cavalry officer was a puzzle

beyond the compass of his imagination to solve. However, he had

pledged his word that he would do this, and accordingly, on the day

after the cricket match, he asked a few friends to dinner, and invited

Mr. Annesley to join the party.

The young man came, and made himself so agreeable to the old ladies

and gentlemen whom he met that they were delighted with him, and

allowed him to monopolize the lion's share of the conversation. Which

thing they would assuredly not have permitted in the case of any

ordinary lancer or hussar; for in Lichbury the Church is disposed to

look a trifle askance at the Army, and to stand upon its dignity with

the representatives of the latter, who are overmuch given to riot and

unseemly pranks. But about this particular lancer there was a perfect

simplicity of thought and language which, combined with a touch of

military swagger, was quite irresistible; and so it came to pass that

Canon Stanwick's first dinner party proved the merriest that had been

given in the Precincts for many a long day. As for the Professor, he

began to feel a _quasi-_fatherly interest in the son of his former

flame, and when the rest of the guests had departed, ventured to

detain him.

"Do you ever--er--smoke a cigar before going to bed?" he asked

hesitatingly.

"I should be precious sorry to go to bed _without_ smoking a cigar,"

answered the other, laughing.

"Oh," said the Professor. "Well, I have formed the same habit myself,

and if you had nothing better to do, and cared to keep me company for

half an hour in my study, I could offer you a tolerably good cigar, I

think; and--and I believe you'll find some soda-water and brandy on

the table."

So presently this oddly matched pair were seated opposite to one

another in the spacious room which served its present owner as library

and study, the busts of Roman emperors and Greek philosophers looking

down upon them from above the bookcases with an air of grave surprise.

The Professor was a little timid and awkward at first, but the younger

man soon set him at his ease, and when he had received a good deal of

amusing information about the inhabitants of Lichbury and its

neighborhood, he thought he might feel his way towards the subject

which he was determined to broach.

"I know very few people in these parts," he remarked; "I have not been

here long, and am generally much occupied. But I have a long-standing

acquaintance with the Cecils, who I think are also friends of yours."

"Oh, rather!" responded the young man heartily. "Known them all my

life. Awfully jolly people--awfully good old chap, old Cecil. And Mrs.

Cecil--she's awfully jolly too."

Bob Annesley's vocabulary of adjectives made up in emphasis what it

lacked in variety.

"And Miss Cecil?" the Professor said. "I have only been fortunate

enough to meet her once, but I am told that she is a singularly

beautiful and charming young lady."

This leading observation elicited a somewhat less cordial assent from

Bob, who murmured, "There's no question about that," and looked rather

grave for a few seconds.

"I was thinking," went on the wily Professor, "that I should very much

like to see more of her, her father having been such an intimate

friend of mine in former years; but I hesitate to ask young people

into my dull house unless I can provide some sort of amusement for

them. Do you think there would be room for a lawn-tennis court in the

garden?"

"Oh, Lord bless your soul, yes!" answered the young man, rising to the

fly most satisfactorily; "heaps of room. I'll tell you what: if you'd

like me to mark out the court for you, I'll do it to-morrow with the

greatest of pleasure, and I could make up a four any day that suited

you and Miss Cecil."

"I should be very much obliged to you. Let me see; you would want

another lady, wouldn't you?" said the Professor, with some fear that

his accommodating guest might offer to bring Mrs. Harrington.

He was relieved to find that no such indiscretion was contemplated.

The young man said there were the Dean's daughters, or failing them,

there was Mrs. Green, the wife of one of his brother officers, who was

a first-rate player and a friend of the Cecils. He could easily get

her and her husband to come, and he was sure the Professor would like

them.

So far, so good. There would apparently be no difficulty in bringing

the young people together; and as for the harpy, perhaps the moment

had hardly yet come for declaring war upon her. In the course of the

few following days the Professor tried to find out more about this

mysterious lady; but the canons knew nothing of her, and the canons'

wives sniffed and said that she was a person whom nobody visited,

although, upon being pressed, they admitted that there was nothing

definite against her. Possibly, after all, she might prove less

formidable than Mrs. Annesley had supposed, and the Professor was

confirmed in this hope by the evident admiration with which Bob

regarded Miss Cecil. That young lady willingly consented to drink tea

and play tennis in the Precincts, and closer inspection showed that

her personal attractions had been in no way exaggerated. Not only did

she possess a quantity of golden-brown hair, and eyes of the darkest

blue, shaded by long curved lashes, but her features, complexion, and

figure were all perfect, and she had an enchanting smile. If any young

man could prefer the vulgar charms of a Mrs. Harrington to these, he

must be a very extraordinary young man indeed; and the Professor,

watching the tennis-players from his cane arm-chair in the shade,

smiled as he thought to himself that Bob Annesley had none of the

outward and visible signs of an extraordinary young man. Furthermore,

he noticed that Annesley and Miss Cecil remained partners throughout;

and though this might be a trivial basis upon which to build

conclusions, there was surely some significance in the fact that after

each game these two sauntered away together, leaving Captain and Mrs.

Green to entertain their host with polite conversation.

When play was over for the day, a renewal of the contest at an early

date was agreed upon, and after three such meetings the Professor felt

justified in despatching a consolatory note to Mrs. Annesley. "I

really think you may make your mind quite easy," he wrote, "I have had

your boy and Cecil's girl playing tennis in my garden several times;

and even so inexperienced a looker-on as myself cannot fail to

perceive that if ever two people were in love with each other, they

are. The 'harpy' I have not yet met, nor am I likely to do so; but

Captain Green of your son's regiment tells me that she is what is

called a _garrison hack_--a term not known to me, but which I take to

mean broadly that she is ready to flirt with all, and is consequently

dangerous to none."

The folly of generalization was one to which the Professor was fully

alive in dealing with matters of historical interest; and had the

question before him been of that kind, he would have been the first to

point out that, though this lady might not be dangerous _qua_ garrison

hack, there was no sure ground for assuming that she was not dangerous

_qua_ Mrs. Harrington. Mrs. Annesley's grateful reply to his letter

did not reach him before he had begun to repent of his haste in

communicating with her.

It was upon the occasion of an afternoon party, given by the officers

of the 27th Lancers, that Canon Stanwick was privileged to make Mrs.

Harrington's acquaintance. Had he been left to consult his own

inclinations, he would not have been present at this entertainment;

but the Cecils, who had driven in from the country to attend it,

invited themselves to luncheon with him, and then carried him away by

main force, alleging that it would do him good to see more of his

neighbors. As a matter of fact, however, he was not benefited in this

particular way, for the cathedral dignitaries seldom showed themselves

at the barracks, and he searched the mess-room and ante-room in vain

for any familiar face. He remained beside the Cecils, and presently

accompanied them to the lawn in front of the building, where some

younger members of the assemblage were playing tennis. Then it was

that he became aware of Mrs. Harrington, attended by young Annesley,

and was able to scrutinize her a little more nearly than he had done

on the cricket-ground. She was a tall, striking-looking woman, not in

her first youth. No doubt she was rather over-dressed, and the

Professor noticed that she was more anxious to appear at her ease than

successful in doing so. He noticed, besides, that the other ladies

fought shy of her, and that his friend Bob, who stood by her side,

looked anything but happy.

After a time the couple drew near to the spot where the Cecil family

were seated, and from the expression of despair visible upon the young

man's face, and the mixture of triumph and defiance exhibited by the

lady, it was easy to guess what was going to happen next. The

Professor, from living so much alone, had got out of the habit of

repressing his emotions; and when he realized that this daring woman

had demanded an introduction to Mrs. Cecil, he gave vent to a loud,

abrupt chuckle, which caused everybody to turn round and look at him

and overwhelm him with consequent confusion. Thus he missed the actual

formality which had moved him to mirth by anticipation; but he

recovered himself in time to see that it had taken place, that Mr. and

Miss Cecil were looking grave and annoyed, and that Mrs. Cecil had

assumed that stony demeanor with which she was wont to cow the

presumptuous.

Mrs. Cecil was not a lady with whom it was advisable to take

liberties. A great liberty had been taken with her now, and, while

holding in reserve the punishment of the chief offender, she made

things very uncomfortable for his accomplice. Having bowed to Mrs.

Harrington, she became absorbed in some distant object of interest,

and failed to hear the bland remarks addressed to her by her new

acquaintance. A deep silence had fallen upon the surrounding group.

Mrs. Cecil was still seated; the other lady was standing in front of

her chair, and the Professor, looking on from the background, thought

to himself that, if he were in Mrs. Harrington's shoes, he would run

away.

But it was Bob Annesley, and not Mrs. Harrington, who adopted that

pusillanimous course. That intrepid woman remained firm, and, with a

determined smile upon her pale face, forced Mrs. Cecil to speak to

her.

"I asked Mr. Annesley to introduce me to you," she was saying,

"because I think we ought to know each other, being both of us so

intimate with him."

"Oh, I didn't know," replied Mrs. Cecil coldly. Perhaps she would have

liked to say that she was not so very intimate with Mr. Annesley; but

when one has a daughter whom one is naturally anxious to marry well,

one is apt to be debarred from indiscriminate retorts. After a pause,

she asked, without removing her eyes from the distant view, "Are you

staying any time at Lichbury, Mrs.--er--?"

"Harrington," replied the other. "Well, I don't quite know. It will

depend a good deal upon the regiment. I always like to be where the

27th are."

"_Really!_" exclaimed Mrs. Cecil; and the amount of astonishment,

contempt, and disgust which she managed to condense into that one word

was quite an achievement in its way.

"Oh, yes," Mrs. Harrington went on cheerfully, "I follow the drum. My

object is to get as much fun out of life as possible, and I don't know

any better way of doing that than living in a garrison town."

"Violet," said Mrs. Cecil, "I think I see some vacant places on the

other side of the lawn. We will go over and sit there." And so saying,

she arose and swept majestically away, leaving Mrs. Harrington

surrounded by a number of silent persons who appeared anxious to stare

her out of countenance while at the same time resolutely ignoring her.

The poor woman's position was really a cruel one, and signs that she

felt it to be so were not wanting. She flushed for a moment, then

turned pale again, and stood, not unlike a hunted animal, while those

merciless ladies enjoyed her discomfiture. The Professor, who knew

what agony he himself would have suffered under such treatment, could

not help being very sorry for her. So sincere was his compassion, and

so strongly did he disapprove of the base practice of hitting those

who are down, that he was moved at last to do an unusually bold thing.

He advanced abruptly to the side of the unfortunate pariah, upsetting

a chair on his passage, and said in a nervous, hesitating way, "What a

beautiful afternoon, is it not?"

Mrs. Harrington turned a pair of astonished and rather angry eyes upon

him. Most likely, at the first moment, she took this queer-looking

cleric for an emissary of the enemy; but a glance at his face must

have reassured her, for a quick change of expression came over her

own, and the Professor was rewarded by a singularly pleasant smile,

and a word or two spoken without any of that harshness of intonation

which had been noticeable in Mrs. Harrington's voice a few minutes

before. Having thus entered his little protest against bullying, he

would gladly have retired from so conspicuous a position, but he was a

man who was wholly unable to extricate himself from any position,

conspicuous or other, without help, and so he went on conversing with

Mrs. Harrington for a matter of five minutes, at the end of which time

he mentally qualified her as a very intelligent and agreeable person.

"I wonder," thought he, "why she chose to speak in such an

objectionable manner just now." And then, with his unlucky habit of

thinking aloud, he said musingly, "I suppose she wanted to shock Mrs.

Cecil. Well, I can't blame her."

Mrs. Harrington laughed. "You are quite right," she observed; "that

was what I wanted to do. But you ought to blame me, for it was not at

all worth while to shock Mrs. Cecil, and I brought her rudeness upon

myself."

The Professor, in great distress, began to stammer out an apology,

which he was not permitted to finish. "There is no need to beg my

pardon," Mrs. Harrington interrupted: "you only said what you thought,

and it is not often that one has the good fortune to hear any one do

that. I wish you would go on. I should like to hear what you think of

me, for instance--or rather no; that would not be very interesting. I

should prefer hearing what you think of Mrs. Cecil."

"The Cecils are old friends of mine," said the Professor, with a

slight accent of reproof.

"Then you need not hesitate to say what you think of them, for one

does not, as a rule, think badly of one's friends. I am interested in

them on Mr. Annesley's account. He is a great deal at their house, is

he not?"

"Yes, I believe so," answered the Professor, stroking his chin

pensively. A strong desire to come to the point prompted him to add,

with some audacity, "People say that he is likely to become engaged to

Miss Cecil, but that may be only an idle report."

Mrs. Harrington's large black eyes had a considerable store of latent

fire in them. It flashed out now upon her companion with a suddenness

which made him start; but in an instant she had recovered her

composure. "It is an idle report," she said quietly. "There is no

truth in it."

"Indeed? Is it not a little difficult to speak with certainty upon

such points?"

Mrs. Harrington made no verbal reply, but stepping slightly aside, so

as to see and be seen by a group of which Miss Cecil was one, and Bob

Annesley another, she beckoned to the young man, who responded by an

almost imperceptible shake of the head. Thereupon she repeated her

signal more peremptorily, and he, with obvious reluctance, obeyed it.

"I want you to see me home," she said as soon as he was within

speaking distance.

"Oh, all right," answered Annesley; "but couldn't you wait a little

bit?"

"No," returned Mrs. Harrington; "I want to go now. I am tired."

Then, with a gracious bow to her late interlocutor, she moved away,

Bob Annesley walking somewhat shamefacedly by her side.

It was thus that the Professor was made aware that Mrs. Harrington was

indeed dangerous, though not precisely in the manner which he had

ventured to disclaim on her behalf.