Amethyst held many more conversations with Oliver Carisbrooke during the
next few weeks, with the result that a distinct, though peculiar,
relation was established between them. He was the only person she ever
met--Sylvester of course having returned to Oxbridge--who had any
intellectual interests, and Amethyst had so vigorous and inquiring a
mind, that even fashion and frivolity could not stifle it. He gave her
to understand that he was quite outside the ranks of her suitors, and
only aspired to a rational friendship, and flattery of her intelligence
was so much rarer, and less a matter of course, than flattery of her
beauty, that it had a greater charm. He afforded an outlet to that side
of her nature which could not be satisfied with the splendid outside of
life.
The world was pressing hard on her soul. What had she come to London
for, but to make a great marriage? Her family had made sacrifices for
it, her acquaintances looked out for it, she herself intended it.
Every day made her engagement to Sir Richard Grattan more inevitable.
She liked him very well, she knew that she could make the position that
he offered to her splendid, she believed that she should be happy in it,
and yet she was buying it at the cost of the divine spark within her
which was her very self. She believed that romantic love was over for
her, and that she was no longer the kind of person to whom religion
could be an inspiring enthusiasm, though she did find in it a standard
below which she did not mean to fall. She thought that she had outgrown
a great deal in her short life.
Rather, she had hardly begun to grow, and within her were budding
impulses, the nature of which she could not yet know. She had decided
that the best thing she could do under the circumstances was to marry
Sir Richard Grattan, and the habit she had formed, in self-defence, of
keeping to the surface of life, prevented her from realising exactly
what her resolution involved. In the meantime, Mr Carisbrooke lent her
books and discussed them, and made her, she hardly knew how, feel that
she was not cut off from the other side of life. He said daring things
that stuck in her memory. He, at least, was not worldly-minded.
"Oh, the hero and heroine made a wise choice, I think," he said,
discussing a novel. "They had more--more life in one hour of each
other, than in all the prosperity they sacrificed."
"But they did wrong," said Amethyst, who took things simply still.
"Did they? Ah, well,--perhaps that was worth while too, for each
other."
It will be seen that the discussions had become of an intimate kind.
Amethyst soon found that her friend did not bear an unblemished
character. She had already learned to know that many of the men she met
did not. She was told he had broken more than one heart. She smiled,
and said she happily had none to break. Una, with insight sorely
gained, steadily detested him. But she had no help from Amethyst in her
own struggle. Her sister did not understand the hope within her, and so
could not sympathise with its downfall. She merely soothed the
variations of excited feeling which tried Una's strength, and would not
own that there was any adequate cause for them.
That all the girl's emotions were violent and morbid was true enough,
but Una was engaged in a real battle, and she did not yield herself
captive.
For her misfortune, Major Fowler, who had always found her attractive,
was caught again by her peculiar looks, and more developed character,
and, though he meant nothing more than a renewal of the old sentimental
relation between them, he inflicted agony on Una, to whom that relation
had been so real a thing.
All the peace of her soul was gone, and as with her all was emotion, the
struggle between right and wrong was a struggle between two personal
loves. Her prayers seemed all in vain, no image but one haunted her
visions, but she never forgot that the love that she believed herself to
have lost, was the higher and the better thing; and, as she passed
through the tormented weary days, she watched her sister, and wondered
what fate Amethyst was preparing for herself.
In the middle of June there was to be a great ball at the Grattans'.
Kattern and Tory had been by favour invited to it, and there were many
who expected that the announcement of Sir Richard's engagement would
then be formally made. Although the need of fresh costumes was
beginning to pinch the Miss Haredales, Amethyst prepared a new and
becoming one for the occasion.
The day of the ball had been very hot. Una, as white as her gown, and
very unfit for the exertion, was leaning back in a low chair in the open
drawing-room window, resting till all the others were ready to go.
Kattern, fresh and blooming, stood near her, buttoning the endless
buttons of her long gloves. Tory was whisking about the room, and
making remarks at intervals.
"I shall keep you in order, Kat," she said, "you don't flirt in good
style. I shall tell mother to look after you."
"You know nothing about it," said Kattern, calmly.
"It's quite a family affair," pursued Tory, "even asking the children!
Well, I wonder what the Leighs will think! Lucian treated Amethyst very
ill. I wonder if Sylvester Riddell still thinks that Tony--"
"Tory, hold your tongue," interposed Una, with all her old sharpness, as
the door opened, and in the stream of lamp-light stood Amethyst, all
pink puffs and pink roses.
"Dear me, Amethyst," said Tory, "that's a new style. Looks like a new
beginning."
"I had nothing else fit," said Amethyst; but the words brought back the
"new beginning" made once before, and she shrank a little, at the
thought of the last ball where she had given a promise to a lover.
Tory's words echoed in Una's brain. She could not dance, and she sat in
a corner of the great ball-room, and watched Amethyst with anxious
eyes,--her beautiful, brilliant sister, who was walking down the room
with her host, and looking just a little excited and unlike herself.
Spite of herself, Una's eyes wandered round the room in search of the
face that made interest and excitement for her, but instead, as if in
answer to her previous thoughts, they encountered Sylvester Riddell's.
He gave a little start, and came eagerly up to her.
"I am beginning my vacation with a taste of London gaiety," he said
rather nervously, as he shook hands. "Can you give me this waltz?"
"Thanks, no, it is too hot for me to dance," said Una. "But will you
take me out on the balcony? It is cooler there."
"It certainly is too hot for dancing," said Sylvester, as he gave her
his arm, and took her out on to the covered balcony. Una sat down where
the awning was lifted, so that such coolness as the London night could
furnish came in over the trees of the square. Sylvester stood near her,
where he could look into the lighted ball-room, secretly impatient at
being kept away from it.
"Mr Riddell," said Una, in her slow, self-possessed tones, "I want to
speak to you. I have something on my mind. I don't wish any one to be
under a mistake about my sister. Perhaps you'll think it doesn't matter
now. But you did not see Amethyst in the conservatory at Loseby. You
made a mistake, as I said then. You saw me. Of course there was a
mystery. It doesn't matter a bit now what it was. My mother gave her a
message for Major Fowler; there was trouble about money. Amethyst knew
nothing of such things, and it made her ashamed, and that made her odd.
You were all mistaken."
Surprise, and Una's composure of manner, kept Sylvester silent till she
paused, and he said, hurriedly--
"I have long thought--long known, that, whatever the facts were, Miss
Haredale was--was above--that nothing could cast a shadow on her."
"I suppose she was judged by the facts," said Una, "or by the mistakes
about them. It was just as I say."
"Is--is she--is she going to marry Grattan?" cried Sylvester, hardly
knowing what he said.
"I suppose every one will know soon," said Una, diplomatically; but he
went on, as if he had not heard her.
"That should be nothing to me; but, Miss Haredale--it is no amends for
my blind and senseless folly, nothing to set against an hour of the pain
I helped to cause her;--but it is impossible that, either then or now,
she can be as much to any one as she is, and ever will be, to me. Take
that for what it is worth. Tell her, if she cares to know. I suppose
she detests me. Let her at least know that she is my queen."
Carried away by the sudden rush of his own emotion, Sylvester had paid
no heed to Una, nor noticed how her heart was throbbing beneath her
little white bodice; but now, she made a little movement.
"Mr Riddell--I am faint--I want some water--my sister--"
She looked deadly white in the half light of the balcony, as she lay
back in her chair, and Sylvester rushed back into the ball-room, where,
through the crowd of dancers, he made his way to Amethyst, who stood by
Sir Richard's side. He was speaking low and earnestly.
"Miss Haredale, excuse me, your sister is faint, she asked for you."
"Una? Where is she?" said Amethyst, starting from her attentive
attitude, and hurrying forward. Sir Richard followed her, and
Sylvester, indicating the balcony where he had left Una, went in search
of ice and wine for her.
Meanwhile, as Una, too faint to think of what had passed, was lying
back, with closed eyes and panting breath, the two or three minutes
during which she was left alone seemed to her endless. Would Amethyst
never come?
Suddenly an arm was put round her, and a voice whispered tenderly.
"Una? What, taken bad, my poor little girl? Never mind, it's only old
Tony--you know I always take care of my little wifie."
The words penetrated to Una's swimming brain. To drop her head on his
shoulder, and rest in his arms! How could she help it! But his last
word, the pet name that had been the joy and the sting of her old
relation to him, spoken in that half-caressing, half-jocose accent,
roused in her the passion that was so much more than the equivalent of
jesting sentiment.
"How dare you make jokes, now?" she said, panting, as she started to her
feet.
"Don't you know that I daren't do anything else?" cried Major Fowler,
suddenly and savagely, his eyes opening wide upon her with new force and
fervour. "But this once more--Una--kiss me!"
"Oh--God help me!" gasped Una; and she tore herself out of his arms, and
fell up against Amethyst, who came running out on to the balcony and
caught her, guiding her as she sank to the ground.
There was instantly a bustle and confusion, and the balcony was full of
figures,--Lady Haredale, Miss Grattan, and Sylvester, who came back with
the remedies he had been to seek. He held the bowl of ice, while
Amethyst dipped her handkerchief into it to bathe Una's face, and then,
as she revived, he helped Sir Richard to lift her on to a couch.
"She's coming round," said Major Fowler. "Poor child, the room was
hot--"
Amethyst turned and faced him, as it seemed to the newly enlightened
Sylvester, like a flame.
"Please find the carriage," she said. And then there was a murmur--Lady
Haredale desiring Amethyst to stay, she would take Una home, Kattern
should go and help her,--Amethyst must not lose her ball.
"No, mother--I shall go with Una," said Amethyst, "I could not stay,
when she is ill."
Major Fowler reappeared, having caught an arriving carriage, and Sir
Richard offered to carry Una; but she struggled to her feet, clinging to
her sister, and said that she could walk now.
He walked by her side, helping her, and Sylvester found their cloaks,
and, as he brought them to the foot of the stairs, caught a murmur of
"sweetest sisterly affection," and "But you _have_ answered me!"
"No--Sir Richard, I have not," said Amethyst, provoked at being urged at
such a moment; and, while she spoke, her eyes looked out at the door, as
Oliver Carisbrooke came in from the darkness without.
He went swiftly up to the group approaching him.
"I knew," he said to Amethyst in a low voice, "I knew this night would
bring you trouble."
How it was, Sylvester never knew, but somehow it was the new-comer who
took the first place, and helped them into the carriage, though Sir
Richard, as in duty bound, sprang up on to the box--"to see them home."
Sylvester walked slowly up-stairs, and back to the balcony. There, on
the floor, lay Amethyst's long pink glove, which she had pulled off
while waiting on Una.
Sylvester picked it up, and held it reverently in his hand.
"No, Mr Riddell," and he started violently as Tory stood looking at him
with her wicked eyes. "No, please don't, it's very expensive, and it
matches her gown exactly. Please get something else, and give that to
me."
Sylvester coloured, and laughed rather foolishly, restoring the glove to
Tory with an elaborate bow. Then,--for what was there now to keep him
at the ball?--he went away as soon as possible, back to the lodgings
which he usually occupied when in town.
Amethyst meanwhile, disregarding Una's entreaty that she would go back
to the ball, hastily divested herself of her finery, and came back in
her white dressing-gown to her sister's side.
"Are you quite comfortable now, my darling? What was I thinking of to
let you go?"
Una gave a faint little laugh.
"You had plenty to think of," she said. "Amethyst, have you quite said
yes?"
"No," said Amethyst petulantly, "I haven't."
"Kiss me, hold me!" whispered Una, nestling up to her. "Then I can tell
you. I told Sylvester Riddell about that day, I made him believe that
he saw me. And there's not one of them as much in love with you as he
is. That's the real thing. That's how I fainted, it was so hard."
"Oh, my dear child, let the past alone. What does it matter?" said
Amethyst, though with a great throb at her heart. "That's all too late,
all done with, that old time."