It was October when the young Saumarez’s arrived at Rosmore. October is
very lovely in the west of Scotland. The trees are thinned but still
glowing, the birches like lamps of gold among the darker woods,
scattering round them, as the leaves drop, a golden underground that
gives out light. The great line of mountains at the head of the loch
were lightly touched with snow. The villas on the banks came out more
brightly from the thinned foliage, and stood reflected in the shining
water, with all the tints round them of red rowan berries and dazzling
autumnal leaves. The air had a clearness as of the rarified air of high
altitudes. There had not been any rain for ten days, so remarkable a
fact that the district in general was beginning to fear the failure of
its wells.
In such an evening, while the sun lavished its last rays upon the loch
and the opposite shore, bathing them in golden light, Rosamond and
Edward came across in the steamboat to the whole Rowland family, which
awaited them on the pier. I am wrong, however, to say the whole family:
for Archie, who had been seized by a strong repugnance to the newcomers
without any reason--a fact which, of course, made it more strong--was
not of the number. He had gone up the loch or the hill with a determined
intention of returning only in time for dinner. If truth had been told,
he was extremely curious, even anxious about the young man who was of
his own age, about whom there could be no doubt that he was a gentleman
born to everything which Archie had not been born to, yet possessed. He
did not think at all about the pretty sister, who probably would have
most engaged the interest of the ordinary youth of twenty. But the more
Archie was curious, the less had he any intention of showing it. He
listened himself to what was said, but he asked no questions. Finally he
started, half an hour before they went to meet the newcomers, for a long
walk up the hill.
“It is too lovely,” said Rosamond, presenting her cheek, as usual, that
Mrs. Rowland should kiss it. “I wish some one had told me that it was a
beautiful place. I never began to look till we got into the steamboat. I
am not in the least tired, thank you. Eddy! where are you, Eddy? One
never knows where to find him. He is always picking up everywhere some
fellow he knows. He is not nice to travel with, because there are so
many fellows he knows.”
Here there advanced from the other end of the boat, and bounded across
the gangway just before it was withdrawn, a short young man, with a
travelling cap upon one side of his head and a cigar in his mouth. He
had to make a jump upon the pier amid a shout of “Take care, will ye!”
and “What are ye doing, lad?” from the man at the pier; and dropped like
a projectile in the midst of the group which, so undistinguished was
Eddy’s appearance, were not looking for him except his sister, who put
out a hand as if to help him. “That was cleverly done,” said Rowland,
opposing his own substantial bulk to arrest the stranger who was
standing in their midst; “but I would advise you, my young friend, to
bestir yourself sooner, and not run such a risk again.”
“Oh, it is his way,” replied Rosamond. “You would not think it, but this
is Eddy, Mrs. Rowland. He is like nobody one ever saw.”
Certainly he was not like his handsome father, the young Edward Saumarez
whom Evelyn remembered so well. She had been half afraid of seeing a
reproduction of his old look. But that was one of the anticipatory
troubles that she might well have spared herself. He was short; his hair
was light and scanty; his eyes half lost under many folds of loose
eyebrows, and a brow which contracted with what some unkind critic has
called the short-sighted soul, was rather small. His nose was turned up
a little. Marion, who, in the interests of Archie, had been looking
forward, half with hope and half with fear, to the arrival of a
beautiful youth--a darling of society, exquisitely clothed and of
distinguished appearance--felt a pang, half of disappointment, half of
relief. Perhaps the relief was the stronger. Archie!--why Archie was
taller, better looking, and more a man than this little shambling
fellow! The foolish father felt much more cordial to Eddy, and grasped
him strongly by the hand.
“You’re welcome to Rosmore, both you and your sister,” he said.
There came an answer from Eddy’s lips which sounded very much like
“Who’s this?” but a glance from his sister brought him to himself, and
he made his bow accordingly.
“I’m very glad to be here, I can tell you,” said Eddy. “Never knew such
a beast of a journey--tumbled out of one carriage into another, and then
Glasgow, and then a boat, and I don’t know all what. How do you do? Been
here long?--and have you got any sport? It’s just like my luck to come
so late.”
“My son,” said Rowland with ineffable pleasure--for he did not feel
ashamed of his son now, quite the reverse in sight of this shabby young
lad, who looked like nothing at all--“has arranged a day for you, and I
think you’ll find a bird or two yet.”
“That’s all right,” said Eddy. “How do you do, Mrs. Rowland! It is very
pretty, as Rose says, but I’m not a man for the picturesque myself. Oh,
you’re going to walk? Excuse me, I’m not much of a walking man: I’ll go
with the ladies, if it’s the same to you.”
“Certainly,” said Rowland amazed, but always with a certain exultation
on Archie’s account. This an example for Archie! the boy was twice the
man this fellow was. It is not good to rejoice in the disadvantages of
other people, but he had been so sure, and professed his pleasure in it,
that Saumarez’s son--a man in the best society--could be a model for
Archie, that the satisfaction in finding him so shabby a little fellow
was more than words could say. He did not need to be ashamed of his own
boy in this company at least. Mr. Rowland started to walk, while the
little man jumped into his place in the carriage, with a certain
elation, as if somebody had given him something he acknowledged to
himself.
“How jolly of you to come to meet us,” said Eddy, “country fashion. We
were wondering, Rose and I, if there would be a dog-cart or something.
Never expected this luxury. Rose, did you see after the luggage? I had
no time to think of it--met a fellow who was with me at Eton--one of the
great plucked, don’t you know--run all over the country in crowds at
this time of the year.”
“Yes,” said Rosamond with her calm air, “he was plucked of course, Mrs.
Rowland. I told you we could not come any sooner because of his exam. Of
course I knew quite well how it would turn out, and so I told father.
But there are some things that people will not believe. I never can see
the good, for my part, of going in for exams. that you are sure not to
pass.”
“Oh,” said Eddy, light-heartedly, “it is always something to do--keeps
you from feeling that you’ve got no centre to your life, don’t you
know. I like a sort of fixed point; if you don’t work up to it, of
course that’s your fault, but all the same an object,--a fine thing.
Don’t you agree with me, Miss Rowland?” said the young man, turning
round a little to look into the face of his companion on the front seat,
who had given up her place to Rosamond without any pleasure, and was now
studying that young lady in every line of her costume, with something of
the same sensation of mingled disappointment and relief which her father
had experienced. Marion was accustomed now to all the subtleties of the
toilette. She was more respectful of Rosamond’s grey gown than she had
been of Evelyn’s travelling dress; but she perceived at a glance that
from this visitor there would be little to learn.
“I don’t know what you mean by an object. I think most gentlemen’s
object is to please themselves,” Marion said.
“That’s what you call epigrammatic, ain’t it,” said Eddy, “and severe.”
“Oh, I just say what I think,” said Marion. She had not had a young man
given her to play with since the days of the students, who laughed at
her saucy speeches, and said among themselves that Rowland’s sister was
clever, much cleverer than he was; and the prospect was agreeable to
her. Not that there was anything attractive in Eddy personally, but
still he was of the kind of mouse to her cat--or cat to her mouse, as
sometimes happens in that sort of exercise. They eyed each other with
furtive glances, both aware of this probable relationship.
“Father has left Aix,” said Rosamond, “they have sent him to some other
place which it is supposed may do him good. Of course so long as he has
Rogers with him we know that he is well attended to. I hope we shall not
stay too long and bore you, Mrs. Rowland. Would it be too much to say a
month? I hope you will be so kind as to tell us if you want our rooms
for other visitors, or get tired of us. Of course people always do in
society, or it would be impossible to get on.”
“Yes, I promise, my dear, I shall tell you if I get tired of you,” said
Evelyn.
“We have been for a fortnight with grandmamma. I think we bored her very
much. She told us she had people coming for the 22nd. But we really
could not get away on the 22nd. One’s grandmother is not the same as any
one else, do you think? However much she may be bored, it is right that
she should put up with it. We don’t go there very much. Once in a year
is not a great deal. She never has anything to say to father: he makes
her so nervous, she says. She will soon say that Eddy makes her nervous
too: when there is no smoking-room, perhaps it may be a little
unpleasant to smell his cigars; but if there is anything at all in being
a grandmother--then she is of course impatient that he has not passed
his exam. I cannot see why, for my part. They ought to have known it
from the first. If you will not even open a book, how can you expect to
pass any exam.?”
“My object, I allow, is to amuse myself,” said Eddy to Marion, dropping
his voice, as it is the right thing to do when you wish to set up a
separate conversation. “I am quite candid, as you are--and, tell me,
isn’t that yours too?”
“I am afraid you will not find it very easy,” said Marion, “to amuse
yourself at Rosmore.”
“What! is there nothing to do?” said Eddy, looking a little dismayed.
“We never see anybody from morning to night but the old maids out of the
village. And we never go anywhere. There was a ball at Campbellton, but
they refused it, and there was one at Eagle’s Craig, but they just went
themselves.”
“Good heavens!” cried Eddy, “what depravity! you never mean to say that
the old people, papa and mamma----”
“They just went themselves!” said Marion with an indignation almost too
terrible for words.
“This must be looked into,” said Eddy, “it is almost beyond belief.”
“I will tell you after,” said Marion, as the conversation on the other
side of the carriage came to a pause.
Thus Mr. Edward Saumarez, jun., procured for himself, without a moment’s
delay, something to do at Rosmore. And Marion Rowland found at once an
additional interest in life. It was quite innocent, and as trivial as
could have been desired. In the evening after dinner she confided a part
of her troubles to him, and then the next day, when the young visitors
were conducted by the young people of the house to see the
neighbourhood, Marion managed so that Rosamond went on with Archie,
while she herself followed attended by Eddy. And the sight of the two
pairs thus arranged was amusing enough. Rosamond went on in advance,
very quickly, with her smooth firm step, and her head held high, as she
walked in London, where, intent upon her own business, this young woman
of the period passed where she pleased, as safe in her own protection
and that, but in a most secondary degree, of her mastiff, as safely as
Una with her lion; while Archie walked by her, a step behind, finding it
slightly difficult to keep up with her long yet graceful steps, and
still more difficult to answer the occasional questions which she
addressed to him without turning her head. Archie for his own part could
not, however he cudgelled his brains, find out anything to say to this
beautiful young lady. He felt her to be miles, nay Alps above him, and
that he could not say anything which did not feel common, vulgar,
mean--like a boy in a shop talking to a princess. He kept striving to
keep up with her, yet never quite kept up with her save when she stopped
suddenly and turned with the same swiftness of movement with which she
walked to look out on the water or up to the hills, when he would outgo
her, and be compelled to swing himself round with an effort to get back
to his place.
“What is the name of that hill?” she asked, all at once coming to one of
those sudden pauses. “That?” said Archie, anxiously turning to quite
another point; “oh that is Ben Ros--or no, I think it is what they call
The Miller--if it is not Ros-dhu.”
“You don’t seem to know very much about them,” said the stately girl,
and then she set off again, certainly indifferent to the blundering
explanation he made that he was afraid he had a bad memory, and that one
person said one thing and one another, so that it was difficult to know.
At another time it was on the seaside that Rosamond paused, demanding to
know the name of the lighthouse in the distance, and what was the
shadowy height to be seen far off down the course of the Clyde. If it
had cost him his life, poor Archie could not remember whether he had
been told that this peak was Goatfell or if it was one of the Cumbraes,
which he knew lay “that way.” And the light: what was it that Roderick
called the light? If he had ever dreamt that he would be interrogated
this way, Archie would have given his whole attention to the acquisition
of local knowledge. A cold perspiration came out upon his forehead, as
he stammered out answers which he was sure were all wrong. “Oh!” said
Miss Saumarez, not even deigning to cast a glance at him. Eddy did not
suffer half so much from his unsuccessful examination as poor Archie did
from this totally unexpected process, which showed him the profound
depth of his ignorance. What a fool she must think him! What an idiot he
was!
“I am afraid, Mr. Rowland, you don’t admire your own country so much as
I do,” Rosamond said at the end of the walk, with a smile that went over
his head like an arrow, which she did not even take the trouble to aim
at him. And he was tongue-tied and could not say a word, could not think
of anything to say; though after she had gone on, a dozen little darts
of words which he might have said, came into his mind, wounding himself
with little pricks instead of compelling her to respect him a little,
as, if they had but come soon enough, they might have done.
Meanwhile the other pair had got on, as Eddy would have said, like a
house on fire. Marion had given him the whole history of the ball at
Eagle’s Craig, to which she had been invited with her stepmother; but to
which Mrs. Rowland had gone alone--with diamonds round her neck and in
her hair.
“She would not have had any diamonds but for papa,” said Marion. “She
was quite nobody when he married her.”
“Oh, now I don’t think that can be true,” said Eddy, “for my governor,
you know--” an impulse of wisdom checked the young man--“couldn’t have
known her, could he, if she had been nobody?”
“Well, at least she was nobody out in India,” said Marion, “and to see
her now! And I had to stay at home--me, papa’s own daughter, and the
only one, and a very good dancer! And it was her that went to the ball,
an old lady, and me, I had to stay at home!”
“It is a sort of thing that would justify an appeal to parliament,” said
Eddy, “but there must have been some sort of reason alleged. Perhaps you
had not a frock?”
“I have dozens of frocks,” said Marion, turning upon him with a gleam in
her eye.
“Or you did not know the people?”
“I know heaps of people; that is, I did not know them myself, but what
does it matter about that when I am papa’s daughter, and he could
just--buy them all up!”
“Oh,” said Eddy, taken a little aback--for though he was accustomed to a
great deal of slang and much frank speaking, it was not generally quite
of this kind. “Then,” he said, “I am at my wit’s end, and I can’t think
what they meant.”
“They said,” cried Marion, “that I was not out.”
“Oh,” said Eddy again.
“But what did that matter--for who would have ever known? And it was a
delightful ball, with a great many officers. And I am a fine dancer,”
said Marion with a deep sigh of mingled indignation and regret.
“Oh, as for that, there is no doubt,” said Eddy, “you are as light as a
feather, and with those pretty little feet--”
“No, I am not as light as a feather: I am just the weight I ought to be,
and my feet are just the same as other people’s; but I know,” said
Marion with conviction, “that I am good at dancing. Archie is not very
good at it, and he is not fond of it.”
“He does not look as if he would be,” said Eddy, with a look at the son
of the house tramping on before them at a considerable distance in close
pursuit of the lady who was in his charge.
“No,” said Marion, “he never was fond of it--are you?”
“Oh, I adore it,” said the young man, “when I have a partner to my mind.
You and I, Miss Marion, would fly like the wind. We’d leave everybody
behind us. I’ll tell you what we must do to make up for that
Ravenscraig--no, Eagle’s Craig business--we’ll make them give a ball
here.”
“A ball at Rosmore!”
“The very thing! while we are here. Rosamond has not come out either,
but, as you say, who will ever know? We may as well have our fun, and
you and she can keep each other in countenance. Nobody will tell--and
what would it matter if they did? Why, girls not out are to be seen
everywhere--always at balls at home. You put on a high dress.”
“No,” cried Marion, “I would rather die than go to a dance in a high
dress.”
“Well, don’t then,” said the complacent Eddy, “anything you please. Oh,
don’t be afraid. I will speak to Mrs. Rowland. I can be as independent
as you like when there’s any occasion for it. And my governor, you know,
poor old chap----”
“Do you mean ‘your papa,’” said Marion.
“Well, I don’t call him so,” said Eddy with a laugh. “There was a story,
don’t you know, about him and your mamma-in-law. The governor behaved
badly, but she has a sneaking kindness for him all the same. That’s why
we are here.”
“Oh!” cried Marion, with a gasp of excitement, “tell me! for I know
nothing about her. I want to know about her. I was sure there was some
story.”
“The governor was a sad dog when he was young,” said Eddy. “Oh, he’s a
nice fellow to blow a fellow up for some trifle not half so bad as
himself. He was up to anything that was naughty. It’s funny, isn’t it,
to hear of these anti-diluvian lovers--my old governor, who can’t move a
limb, poor old chap, and this prim lady here who looks like a saint.”
“As if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth,” said Marion; “but I always
knew there was some story. Be quick and tell me, for they are coming
back.”
“I will tell you another time. Can’t we come out to-night in the
moonlight to smoke a cigarette. Did you ever try a cigarette? Oh, all
the girls do! I’ll teach you how. It makes you much better company when
you don’t mind a cigarette.--Hi! here’s Rosamond down upon us. Not a
word to her, whatever I tell you. And your brother coming lagging behind
as if she had given him a touch of the lash. She’s a rare one for that;
keeps a fellow in his place, as if she was too grand to mind.”
“Oh, Archie is just as grand as she is,” said the girl, slightly
offended; “and it is just his way to keep behind. I would like to see
anybody giving my brother a touch of the lash!”
“It is not because he is your brother, but because he is himself,” said
Eddy. “I don’t mean any offence. I mean that’s Rosamond’s way. She is
like the governor, don’t you know. She has got a great deal of the devil
in her. So have you, I should think.”
“Me!” said Marion, much shocked. “I am not what you think at all.”
“Yes,” said Eddy, “I am sure you are what I think. As nice as girls are
made, but plenty of devilry, and a spirit for anything. That is
precisely what I like best.”
“Well,” said Marion, “I will allow that I have a great deal of spirit,
if that’s what you call the----; but you shouldn’t say bad words. Do you
mean that girls are not made so nice as men? for I think you’re very
impudent to say so, and me a girl that you are speaking to.”
“Girls,” said Eddy, with an air of authority, “are sometimes much
better, and sometimes they are a great deal worse than men. There’s no
medium in them. You are one of the nice ones, so of course you are a
great deal nicer than a fellow like me, or even your brother. I am a
dreadful little beggar, and that is the truth.”
“Oh, you like to say ill things of yourself.”
“No, I don’t, if they weren’t true. You hit me off exactly, the very
first thing, when you said men had no object but to amuse themselves.
You must be awfully clever as well as nice. I don’t see what we’re in
the world for but to enjoy ourselves. I’m sure I didn’t ask to come, and
I dare say I shan’t have a very long life, so I mean it to be a merry
one, I can tell you. As for the governor,” said Eddy, “he has no right
to complain. Rose is too good for him, but he deserves to have me to
keep him in mind of how naughty he has been.”
“What have you done,” said Marion, interested, “that is so----naughty,
as you say?”
“Oh, you would like to know?” he said, opening his eyes wide, with a
laugh. “Perhaps if I were to tell you, you would never speak to me any
more.”
“I am not that kind,” said Marion. “I would always speak to you,
whatever you did--if you were sorry.”
“Ah! but the chief thing in me is that I am not a bit sorry,” said
Eddy.--“Are you going back already you two? You go off like a hunter,
Rose, never minding who toils after you. Miss Rowland and I are going
further on.”
“There is a beautiful view up there,” said Rosamond, pointing to the
west, “if you cared about views, and the mountains are beautiful in that
direction, but as you never would look at a landscape in your life----”
“Not when I had mettle more attractive,” said Eddy, with a look at
Marion, and then he laughed out, “When I can combine both, I like it
very much.”
“Mary, it is perhaps going to rain. I would not advise you to go very
far,” said Archie, who was more susceptible than his sister to the light
compliment and the laughter. But Marion stood her ground.
“Since we came to Rosmore,” she said, “it has always been going to rain,
and we can shelter under the trees, and it does no harm. I have promised
to Mr. Saumarez to show him Ben Ros before we go in.”
“I am very anxious to make the acquaintance of Ben Ros,” said Eddy with
a laugh. “_Au revoir_, you people who have accomplished that part
already. I don’t suppose you are deeply attached to Ben Ros--what do
you call him--are you? But it is always a good excuse for a walk--and a
talk.”
“You never call me by my name,” said Marion; “you say just _you_, as if
I were not a person at all.”
“Because you would be angry if I called you by your name.”
“Me, angry! Why I am just Miss Rowland to everybody, servants and all.”
“I suppose you don’t rank me with the servants? I shall say Marion or
nothing--and of course you would not allow me--or May, that is your name
too, and the prettiest of all.”
“May is short for Marion,” she said with a blush.
“And I’m to call you so? Then I shall do nothing but call you by it.
May, May--it is the prettiest name in the world.”
Thus there came into conjunction another two who were not Mr. Rowland’s
two, nor perhaps a two who were very desirable companions for each
other, yet who suited each other, as Mr. Edward Saumarez eloquently
expressed it, down to the ground.