talking too much. He just dotes upon romancing when he can get a
listener, and I didn't like to interrupt when I knew he had come home
especially to see you. Jack falls in love with every fresh girl he
meets, and they mostly fall in love with him too. He has such lovely
humbugging eyes!"
"Do they, indeed! He shan't humbug _me_, that's one thing certain!" was
Sylvia's mental comment. Aloud she assented cordially. "Most handsome
eyes! I call him unusually good-looking for a man, and he has amused me
very much, but I am more than ready for tea, and a little of your
society. There's the clatter of the cups. Welcome sound, it's music in
my ears! How I used to long for it when I was ill!"
"I'll draw the curtains and make the room look cosy. That is one good
thing about a tiny house--you can keep it warm. We were frozen in the
great draughty barns of rooms at Knock, and Pixie used to look so quaint
with her feet in snow-boots, and her hands in a muff, and her little
nose as red as a cherry. It was so cold that it kept her awake at
nights, until the Major bought an elegant little egg-cosy at a bazaar in
Dublin, and she slept in it regularly through the frost. We used to go
to kiss her last thing every night, every man Jack of us, for the
pleasure of seeing her lying there, so peaceful, with the cosy perched
over her nose! Muffins, dear? I didn't make them, so you may eat them
with an easy mind."
Jack came downstairs at the summons of the tea-bell, looking in
languishing fashion at his comforter as he entered the room, when, to
his surprise, back came an answering glance, as it were parodying his
own, the sentimental attitude belied by twinkling eyes and mischievous
lips. The blush and tremor of an hour ago were conspicuous by their
absence, and the change was by no means appreciated by the startled
onlooker. In vain he tried to return to the old footing, accompanying
the simplest remark with a hint of secret understanding, and waiting
upon her with a deference which seemed humbly to inquire the reason of
the change.
Sylvia bluntly inquired, "What is it?" in reply to his appealing looks,
kept him trotting to and from the tea-table, and said, "How clumsy you
are!" when his fingers touched her own over the cake-basket. Even Jack
O'Shaughnessy found it impossible to continue flirting under these
conditions, and devoted himself to the consumption of muffins with a
crestfallen air, while Bridgie regarded him with fond commiseration from
behind the tea-tray.
It was at this opportune moment that the clatter of wheels stopped at
the door and the peal of the bell rang through the house. Sarah went to
the door, and there was a movement and bustle in the hall, at the sound
of which Bridgie nodded complacently.
"The Parcels Delivery van! I thought something must be coming. Have
you any change, Jack? I've nothing smaller than sixpence, and the man
will want a Christmas-box--a few coppers, perhaps."
"Oh, give the poor beggar half a crown. Don't insult him with coppers,"
said Jack in his lordly way, pulling a handful of silver from his pocket
and selecting the largest coin of the number. "I'll take it to him
myself. You might give him some tea if there is any left. It is
perishingly cold outside!"
He stepped towards the door, but before he reached it, it was opened
from without, a tall figure precipitated itself into the room, and with
two separate cries of rapture the sisters flew to meet each other, and
stood with locked arms, kissing, laughing, and questioning, with
incredulous delight.
"Esmeralda darling! Is it really you? You are not a dream, dear, are
you? I can't believe it's true!"
"It was Geoff's doing! He saw I was fretting for you, and suggested
that we should come to town and stay over the New Year at an hotel.
There was not time to get the house ready. A whole week, Bridgie!
Won't we talk! There are such oceans of things to tell you. Baby is
beginning to speak!"
"The precious mite!" Bridgie disentangled one hand and held it towards
her brother-in-law in beaming welcome. "I always did say you were a
broth of a boy, Geoffrey, but you have eclipsed yourself this time. I
am so happy I don't know how to bear it. Now Christmas will be
something like Christmas, and--" she smiled encouragingly into Sylvia's
embarrassed face,--"we have a visitor staying with us to make things
still more festive. My new friend, Miss Sylvia Trevor, who is
recovering from a long illness."
Esmeralda wheeled round to face the sofa and stared at the stranger with
haughty scrutiny. Her flowing skirts seemed to fill the little room;
her cloak was thrown back, showing a glimpse of costly sable lining; her
imperious beauty made her appear older than the gentle Bridgie, a
hundred times more formidable. The formal bend of the head brought with
it an acute sense of discomfiture to the recipient. For the first time
since crossing that hospitable threshold she realised that she was a
solitary unit, a stranger set down in the midst of an affectionate
family party, and if it had not been for the crippling foot, she would
have rushed away to the haven of the room upstairs. As it was, however,
she was condemned to lie still and return Esmeralda's commonplaces with
what grace she might.
"I am pleased to see you," said Esmeralda's tongue. "What a nuisance
you are!" said the flash of the cold grey eyes. "Such a pleasure for
Bridgie to have a friend." "But now that I have arrived, you are not
wanted any longer, and are terribly in my way!" One set of phrases were
as intelligible as the other to the sensitive invalid, and if
Esmeralda's anticipations were dashed by her presence, she herself
abandoned all prospect of enjoyment, and only longed to be able to
return home forthwith.
Bridgie would not need her companionship any longer; she could be but a
restraint and kill-joy in the conferences of newly-united sisters. She
stared dismally at the floor, then looked up to see Jack carrying the
tea-table bodily across the room and setting it down by her couch.
Sarah had brought in fresh tea and cakes for the refreshment of the
travellers, and he motioned slightly towards his sisters, saying in an
undertone,--"Bridgie will be incoherent for an hour. Will you come to
the rescue? If we don't look after the tea, no one else will."
He smiled at her as he spoke, not sentimentally this time, but with a
straightforward kindliness which showed that he had understood and
sympathised with her embarrassment. Occupation for hand and mind was
the most tactful comfort which he could have administered, and Bridgie's
eager, "Oh, thank you, dear! How good of you!" showed that she was
indeed thankful to be relieved of every duty but that of talking to her
sister and watching her with adoring eyes.
Sylvia's post was no sinecure, for everyone started tea-drinking afresh
to encourage the travellers, and amidst the babble of voices Jack's
_sotto voce_ explanations made the conversation intelligible, and took
away the feeling of being left out in the cold. At a touch of real
sympathy the false sentiment had disappeared, and her heart warmed
towards the young fellow for his kindly concern for her comfort. It was
a bond of union also to remember that he himself was apt to resent the
incursions of this domineering young matron, and she noted with delight
that, while Bridgie was apparently delighted to be trampled underfoot,
he was ready and able to hold his own.
"We came over in a rush, and arrived only two hours ago. I'm a
disreputable object!" said Esmeralda, glancing complacently over her
sweeping skirts, and arranging the immaculate frills at her throat.
"Geoffrey was in such a hurry to get off that he gave me no time to make
myself decent."
"She had only an hour, poor thing, not a moment longer! She sent me
flying off to look for trains and whistle for a hansom, and then kept me
kicking my heels while she prinked before the glass, putting on her best
dress and the newest hat to impress you with her magnificence. She is
disappointed that you have not noticed them yet, that's why she pretends
to be humble!" explained Geoffrey in self-defence, whereat his wife
grimaced at him in a manner singularly undignified and eloquent. Then
she glanced hastily across the room at Sylvia, looking so girlish, so
abashed at having been discovered in her schemes, that Sylvia laughed
involuntarily, and forgot the old offence.
"Husbands are such blighting creatures; they are always telling the
truth upon you!" sighed Esmeralda sadly. "I intend to bring up Bunting
to agree with all I say, and then there will be some chance of making an
impression. He is left at home, for he is too young to miss us, and it
was bad weather for moving a nursery.
"Now about to-morrow! We have arranged for you to spend the day with
us, and have lunch and dinner in our private room. The servants can eat
up your turkey, or it can wait until the next day. You must come to us
directly after church. What train will you be able to catch?"
Bridgie knitted her brows and looked embarrassed and distressed. The
invitation could not, of course, be accepted, and it was thoughtless of
Esmeralda to have given it under existing circumstances. Had not Sylvia
been introduced as a convalescent, and did not her position on the couch
prove that she was unable for a journey to town? It would make the poor
dear so uncomfortable if she were cited as the obstacle; yet what other
excuse could be made?
Esmeralda had travelled all the way from Knock for the pleasure of
entertaining her brothers and sisters, and would not be lightly turned
from her plans. Bridgie looked across the room, and met Jack's eyes
turned upon her with a flash of indignation in their clear depths.
"Well, Bridgie, you can do as you like, but I give you full notice that
I stay at home!" he said firmly. "I have never yet eaten my Christmas
dinner in an hotel, and I never shall so long as I have a roof of my own
to cover me. Choose between Esmeralda and me; I am the head of the
family, and it is my privilege to play host on such occasions, but if
the house is too small--if we are not grand enough for Mrs Hilliard--"
"Jack!" cried Esmeralda sharply. She pushed her cup on one side, and,
springing across the room to her brother's side, laid her hands on his
shoulders and shook him vigorously to and fro. "Come down this minute
from that high horse! I won't be snubbed, when I've come all the way
over from Ireland to see you. I thought you would like it, dear,
because you enjoyed dining with us so much before, and we should have
been quite private in our own room; but I don't mind where we are, so
long as we are together. We will come and dine with you if you will ask
us. I would far rather have stayed here altogether if you could have
put us up!"
"We could stow you away, but we can't manage the retinue. Miss Trevor
occupies the north-west Tudor corridor, and there is only Pixie's little
den at liberty," said Jack, laughing, and recovering his complacency
with wonderful quickness. "The servants' hall accommodation is also
limited, and your maid and valet might not appreciate our _menage_. We
had a very stylish pudding the other night. You might give Esmeralda
the recipe, Bridgie."
Esmeralda listened to the history of the beeswax and macaroni with a joy
tempered by regret.
"We never have anything so nice as that!" she sighed. "Never a bit of
excitement as to how things will turn out. D'you remember the day when
old Sukey mixed the lettuce with furniture cream instead of salad-
dressing, and Major Denny was so polite, with a crust of bread under one
end of his plate to let it drain down to the bottom, while he ate his
meat high and dry at the top! 'Twas bad luck that none of us fancied
lettuce that day, but kept pressing him to a second helping."
"Well, we will come here to-morrow morning, then. Don't stay away from
church, for, truthfully, I would rather you were out when we arrived. I
have some rather--large--Christmas presents which must be smuggled in
unobserved. I have some--er--preparations to make to-night, so we can't
stay very long."
Half an hour later husband and wife took their departure, and after
seeing them off, Jack came back into the drawing-room and stood by
Sylvia's couch.
"Esmeralda invariably speaks before she thinks!" he said apologetically.
"There's a lot of pretence about her, but you will be astonished to
find out what a good sort she is when you know her better."
Sylvia smiled with a whimsical twist of the lips. She thought that that
prediction might apply to more than one member of the O'Shaughnessy
family, and cherished a pleasant conviction that Jack's outburst of
indignation had been more on her account than his own. He was not the
type of man to stand on his dignity, and his quick glance into her face
as Esmeralda gave her invitation had been eloquent of understanding.
His protest had saved her from a most distasteful position, and once
again she felt a debt of gratitude towards him.
CHAPTER NINE.
CHRISTMAS PRESENTS.
Christmas morning was heralded by the luxury of a late breakfast, when
no one need hurry off to town, and even Miles could satisfy the demands
of appetite without casting a thought to the time-table. Porridge,
bacon, eggs and sausages laid the foundation of his meal, before he
tackled marmalade, strawberry jam, fresh oranges and honey, accompanied
by numerous draughts of tea and coffee, and finally by a cup filled with
the united drainings of both pots, which he drank with obvious relish.
If it had been merry Pat who was so difficult to appease, there would
have been no cause for astonishment, but Miles's rapt eyes and ethereal
expression seemed to bespeak no stronger diet than moonbeams and
mountain dew, and to hear him accompany his last mouthful with an eager,
"When's lunch?" was a distinct shock to the visitor. Jack, too, had
sustained a relapse into sentiment, and was only awaiting opportunity to
wax melancholy and confidential. With a word of encouragement he would
have stayed away from church to bear her company, but Sylvia was
provokingly obtuse, and he went off looking unutterable reproaches with
his "humbugging eyes."
Left to herself, Sylvia hobbled to the piano and sang Christmas hymns in
a weak little voice, which wavered suspiciously towards the close.
Christmas is the day of all others when families are united, and it
seemed hard that when she possessed just one beloved relation, he should
be away off at the other end of the world. The strange house, the
unusual silence, and her own inability to move about, added to the
feeling of depression, and her thoughts turned towards Aunt Margaret
with unusual yearning. The old lady was at times a sore trial to her
niece's patience, but at least they had a claim on each other's
affection; she was the dear father's sister, and her own legal guardian
during his absence!
Sylvia wondered how the two ladies would pass their day--church in the
morning as a matter of course; early dinner and reminiscences of the
brougham and peach-houses; arrival of the postman with cards; renewed
reminiscences and family histories of the various senders; one arm-chair
at each side of the fire; two white caps nodding sleepily forward; two
pairs of cashmere boots reposing on footstools. Arrival of tea and
exchange of recipes and household experiences. Letters of thanks to
valued friends for seasonable gifts. Supper of cold turkey and cocoa,
with anecdotal references to Christmases of long ago. Mutual exchange
of compliments, bed, nightcaps, and sleeping-socks.
Oh dear me! It all seemed very flat to one-and-twenty, and why should
one girl have health and beauty, and brothers and sisters, and an
adoring young husband into the bargain, and another be a solitary unit,
with no one to cosset her and help her to bear her manifold infirmities?
Sylvia's tears were still rather near the surface, and she mopped her
eyes with her handkerchief, and mopped them again, and then carefully
dried them on a dry place, and craned forward to look in the glass and
see if they looked very red and tell-tale. The bleared reflection had a
wonderfully calming effect, and she limped to her couch and read
persistently to distract her thoughts, until the peal of the bell
announced the Hilliards' arrival. From her corner she could not see the
doorway, but judging from the sounds of coming and going, of dragging
heavy weights, of scurrying along the passage, of whispered colloquies,
and sudden explosions of laughter, it was evident that some great
mystery was in the air.
Then the cab drove away, the dining-room door closed with a bang, she
heard the furniture being dragged to and fro, and wondered how long it
would be before the drawing-room was raided in its turn. For a quarter
of an hour the conspirators remained shut up together, then Esmeralda
came sailing into the room, all smiles and amiability.
"A happy Christmas to you, Miss Trevor! Excuse me for not coming in
before, but I am so anxious to arrange my presents before the others
come home from church. I want the easel from that corner, and I want
you to promise faithfully that you won't come into the dining-room
before you are allowed!"
"I can't walk so far without help. You are quite safe so far as I am
concerned," said Sylvia regretfully, and Esmeralda looked at her with
quick scrutiny.
"So bad as that! I didn't know. Is that why you have been crying?"
"No--oh no! I am used to that now. I felt a little lonely, that's all.
I wanted my father."
The beautiful face changed suddenly, the lips tightened, the eyes grew
large and strained. There was a ring of pain in the clear voice.
"Is he dead?"
"No, no, only so far-away. At the other end of the world, in Ceylon!"
"You will see him again!" said Esmeralda shortly. She looked at the
portrait of a handsome, reckless face which hung on the wall above the
sofa, and drew a fluttering sigh. "That was my father. It is nearly
two years since he had his accident, and I thought I could never be
happy again. If I could write to him, if I could get his letters, and
think that some day, it might be in twenty years to come, he would be
back among us again, I should feel as if there was nothing else to wish
for."
She sat down suddenly by the couch with an air of having forgotten all
about the errand which had brought her into the room, clasped her hands
round her knee, and began a series of disconnected childish memories,
while Sylvia gazed spellbound at the beautiful, dreamy face, and
wondered how she could ever have thought it cold and unfeeling.
"We were always such chums, from the time that I was a mite in
pinafores. I remember his first explaining to me what happened when
people died--how their bodies were put into the grave, while their souls
went straight to heaven; but I didn't understand what a soul was, and I
was frightened and cried out, `Well, I won't go one step without my
body!' I used to play tricks on him, and he would catch me up and carry
me into his room, and say, `Will you rather be poisoned, or buried
alive?' and I would prefer the poisoning because it was chocolates out
of the corner cupboard.
"He used to wake me in the mornings coming battering at my door, and
singing, `Come awake thee, awake thee, my merry Swiss lass!' and when we
were learning French fables from Miss Minnitt, we used to take arms,
Bridgie and I, and walk up and down before him reciting, `Deux
compagnons presse d'argent!' It didn't make any difference whether he
had the money or not--he always gave it to us.
"One day we were going for a picnic, and he walked on with the men,
leaving me to drive after them in the cart with the provisions. There
was only one thing he told me to remember, and that was just what I
forgot--his camera, to take a special view which he'd wanted for an age.
Four miles from home it jumped into my mind, and I sat in misery the
rest of the way. The Major laughed when I told him, and sympathised
with me for my upset. `You'll forget your own head next, and it will be
a pity,' he said, `for it's a very pretty one.'
"I hated to vex him just because he was so sweet about it. No one ever
understood me as well as the Major, and when I was in a tantrum he would
say, `Think it over till to-morrow, my girl. If you are of the same
mind then, we will discuss it together,' and, of course, I never did
think the same two days running.
"When he was ill he used to lie looking at me, and his face was quite
different from that in the picture--so sad and wistful. `I've not done
much in the way of training you, my girl,' he would say, `but I've loved
you a great deal. Maybe that will do as well. You are not one to stand
a bridle.' He loved to have me with him; to the last he would stretch
out his hand--"
Her voice quivered and stopped, and Sylvia sat with lowered eyes,
murmuring incoherent condolences. Esmeralda's love for her dead father
was very sweet and touching, but to the more reserved nature it seemed
an extraordinary thing that she could speak so openly to a stranger, and
in the twinkling of an eye change her mood from gay to grave.
The hands of the clock were approaching the hour when the rest of the
family might be expected to return from church, yet there she sat
dreaming over the past, and apparently absolutely forgetful of the
demands of the present. Sylvia dare not risk a reminder which would
seem in the last degree unfeeling, but presently the door opened, and
Geoffrey Hilliard appeared on the threshold, looking round with anxious
inquiry.
"Good morning, Miss Trevor. The compliments of the season." Then he
looked at his wife, all incredulous and aghast. "My dear girl, what are
you about? Do you know that at any moment Bridgie may be here? I
thought you had come for the easel."
Esmeralda leaped to her feet with a cry of dismay. "Hurry! hurry!" she
cried. "Oh, what are you waiting for? Carry it for me. Be quick! be
quick!" and off she rushed with a swirl of flounces, a rustle of silk, a
wild waving of arms, while her husband chuckled with amusement, and
confided in Sylvia--
"That's the usual programme! First keeps me waiting for hours, and then
upbraids me for being slow. Keep Bridgie occupied if she comes in too
soon, please, Miss Trevor. This little surprise needs a good deal of
preparation."
What could it be? Sylvia grew quite excited as once more peals of
laughter echoed from the dining-room. Esmeralda was evidently sparing
no pains to display her presents to the best advantage, and, lucky girl,
no want of money had hampered her choice of what would be appropriate
and welcome.
"I'm glad I gave Bridgie my minute offering this morning, so that it
won't be shamed by contrast. I shall be out of this distribution, so it
doesn't matter, but I do hope they will ask me to go in," said Sylvia to
herself. "I hated Esmeralda last night, but I rather love her this
morning. She is like the little girl in the rhyme--when she is nice she
is very, very nice; but when she is bad she is--horrid!"
After all, the mysterious preparations were completed before the return
of the church party, for the service had been unusually lengthy, and
Esmeralda was champing with impatience before the latch-key clicked in
the lock. There was great kissing and hugging beneath the mistletoe,
and Bridgie was sent flying upstairs to take off her wraps, in
preparation for the great exhibition.
"I have laid out our presents in the dining-room, and they take up all
the table, so there will be no dinner until they are distributed. I've
lighted the lamp, dear, to make it look more festive. Hope you don't
mind? It was just the least thought in the world gloomy in that back
room this morning."
"Anything you like, dear! anything you like!" cried Bridgie the docile;
then she looked at Sylvia, and beamed with satisfaction as Geoffrey
offered his arm to support the invalid's halting footsteps.
They led the way together, and she seated herself in state in an arm-
chair, while the brothers and sisters crowded in at the doorway,
exclaiming volubly at the sight which met their eyes.
The table had been pushed lengthways against the window, the crimson
curtains making an effective background to its heaped-up treasures. The
lamp stood at the farther end of the room, casting a subdued rosy light
on the eager faces. It was not exactly a "cheery" illumination, but it
was certainly becoming, and lent an air of mystery to the everyday
surroundings.