"Syl, you haven't taken her to see all the glories of the place without
me? I want to show her the gold fish in the fernery."
"We haven't been looking at the gold fish," said Sylvester.
"Come then, Amethyst, I've done my duty by the tennis. Now let us enjoy
ourselves."
"But I can't leave Una by herself," said Amethyst. "She is a young lady
to-day, and doesn't want to go with the children."
"Will Miss Una come with me, and have an ice?" said Sylvester; and Una,
not displeased by the proposal, went off willingly.
As Sylvester talked to her, with due regard to her _role_ of grown-up
young lady, and thought of what he had seen, he felt that in that short
five minutes of his walk in the shrubbery, there had passed away a glory
from the earth.
Una very soon had enough of Mr Riddell, who did not greatly amuse her,
and found other companions for herself, exactly when she wished to do
so, without the slightest awkwardness. Sylvester's disturbance of mind
took the form of disturbance of temper. The music and the ices and the
gaiety annoyed him, and he was making an attempt to get out of the way
of the crowd, when he met Mrs Leigh, also alone, and, as in duty bound,
asked her if she would like to come and have some fruit, or an ice.
"There are some fascinating little tables in the conservatory by the
house, with fruit of the most picturesque description," said Mrs Leigh.
"If I don't make the most of my opportunities on these occasions, I
always feel that I defraud myself, and pay my hosts a bad compliment.
Besides, I enjoy a talk with you, Sylvester, so if I am not keeping you
from the young ladies--"
"We can discuss the young ladies," said Sylvester, "and admire them from
a distance."
He and Mrs Leigh were very good friends, and liked each other's
company; but to-day he perceived that she, as well as himself, was
abstracted and preoccupied--out of spirits, in fact; and he set it down
to the approaching loss of her son from her family circle. He could
not, however, make cheering remarks on the subject, just now; so with
words that hardly touched the surface of the thoughts of either, he
conducted her into the spacious conservatory which made of Loseby a
show-place. It was very large and lofty, with nooks and bowers, formed
of rare shrubs and creepers, and cunningly-contrived vistas, through
which, framed in clematis or taxonia, part of the lawn, and long green
walks leading away into the park and woods, were visible.
Sylvester found his companion a seat, and supplied her with a peach; but
he had a curious feeling of something impending, of thunder about to
burst. As he watched the groups passing before him, and remarked
casually on them to Mrs Leigh, he knew that he was really dreading the
reappearance of the pair whom he had once before interrupted; and, as he
said to himself that it was not likely that such another risk would be
run, Mrs Leigh suddenly exclaimed--
"There is Amethyst alone! What can she be doing?"
Sylvester started, as Amethyst, with a hurried step, and glancing
nervously about her, came into the conservatory at the further end, and
after pausing as if in search of some one, passed out of sight behind a
trellis covered with heliotrope and scarlet geraniums.
"She has gone into the house," said Mrs Leigh; "let us join her."
She rose and followed Amethyst's footsteps round the geranium-covered
trellis, behind which an open window led into a small ante-room, also
adorned with flowers, and, at first sight, empty. In a moment, the
white figure came again into view followed by Major Fowler. He took her
by the hand, drew her close up to him, bending his face over hers, and
kissed her under her hat. She clung to him for a second, then pulled
herself away, and covered her face with her hands. Both moved out of
sight in separate directions, and the whole thing was over in half a
minute. Mrs Leigh had stopped, with a clutch at Sylvester's arm. Now
she walked hurriedly forward into the ante-room, and Sylvester, with an
instinct of checking a scene then and there, dashed past her, with a
loud and incoherent remark on the creepers. The ante-room was empty.
Only strangers were in the drawing-room beyond. Mrs Leigh sank down
into a chair, speechless and overpowered. Sylvester was pale, he
neither liked to leave her, nor to speak to her, and he suffered so much
that he almost forgot her.
"Sylvester," she said at length, faintly, "I have been miserable--
miserable! But such as this I never thought of."
"No," said Sylvester, stupidly, "no--of course not."
"I have been warned," said Mrs Leigh. "I have hated the connection. I
would be thankful to break off the match. But a child of eighteen!--
What can I do for the best?"
"Don't say a word--don't tell Lucian now. Speak to Miss Haredale
yourself alone, first. She is, as you say, a child. Major Fowler's
position in the family, his engagement,--an unsuitable joke--"
"Sylvester," said Mrs Leigh, "That was a parting with a meaning, and
you know it. But of course nothing can be done to-day, and here I will
save her. I will not make a scandal, but that girl shall never be my
Lucian's wife."
There was relief as well as dismay in Mrs Leigh's voice, and she stood
up, and walked out again through the conservatory on to the terrace in
front of the house. Lucian came hurrying across the lawn, looking
perplexed and angry.
"What has become of Amethyst?" he said. "I missed her all in a moment.
Has she been with you? Lady Haredale and the little girls are on the
lawn."
"Amethyst has not been with me, Lucian," said Mrs Leigh in a tone which
Sylvester thought must at once have arrested Lucian's attention; but he
only looked about restlessly, till round the corner of the house came
Amethyst herself, walking beside Miss Verrequers, with Major Fowler in
attendance. There was an anxious look in her eyes as she approached,
but she was quite self-possessed, and did not look guilty.
"I have been looking for you everywhere. Where did you vanish to?" said
Lucian, in a tone of boyish vexation, that sounded utterly trivial in
the anxious ears of the others.
"Well, I thought that you would look for me, if you wanted me," said
Amethyst; "and, you see, here I am."
It was a not unnatural girlish retort; but it wanted to Sylvester's ear
the crystal candour of Amethyst's ordinary utterances.
"I have been having the pleasure of making Miss Haredale's
acquaintance," said Miss Verrequers, pleasantly.
"We are going to find my mother," said Amethyst, "because Miss
Verrequers wishes to settle a day to come over to Cleverley. Will you
come, Lucian?"
He walked on by her side, a little rebuked, and, as it were, kept down
by her manner. But, as they all followed in a stream, Sylvester saw her
turn her head aside for a moment, and a look swept over her face, of
utter misery and shame, a look gone even while he noted it.
The rest of the day was for him like a miserable dream. He thought of
every kind of excuse, of the free and easy manners of great houses and
fashionable folk, of childish freedom, and girlish coquetry, but every
theory degraded Amethyst's stately maidenhood, and none fitted the
despair in her eyes. He could hardly bear his part with his father and
aunt, as they went home, in the discussion of the party, and Mr Riddell
noticed his silence and preoccupation, over their evening pipe.
"Not such good company as usual to-night, my dear boy," he said.
"No, dad, I dare say not Father," he added, as he turned to go
up-stairs, "if ever you pray for your stray lambs, do so to-night.
There's trouble ahead, though you might not think it."
"Ah?" said Mr Riddell, with a long inquiring intonation. "But, Syl, I
know my lambs by name, and I forget none of them; no more when their
feet are in the green pastures, than when they are wandering on the
mountain."
"Thank you!" said Sylvester, with unconscious fervour.
Mr Riddell looked at him as he hurried up-stairs, and, in his prayers
that night for those in trouble and distress of mind, he did not forget
his well-beloved son.