THE RIVALS.
We will now return to Miss Gwynne, who pursued her usual avocations
until about five o'clock, and then began to wonder what detained
Gladys. However, as she was quite independent of maids in her toilette,
she went to her room and began to dress herself at the usual hour. She
found all her attire already spread upon the bed, as if Gladys
anticipated being late; nothing was wanting, and she had nothing to do
but to dress.
As it happened, however, she was particularly anxious to look her best
that evening; why, she would not even ask herself; but she, who was
usually careless of what she wore, provided she were properly attired,
began to fidget over wreaths and ornaments as if she were going to her
first ball.
'Miss Nugent will be all jewels,' she said, taking up a set of pearls
that was on the dressing-table. 'At any rate, I will not be like her.
And, of course, she will wear white, so I shall change my mind and won't
wear white. Where is Gladys? The only evening I ever really wanted her,
she is out of the way.'
Miss Gwynne rang her bell violently, and the housemaid answered it.
'Send Gladys. Surely she is come back.'
'No, ma'am. I can't think where she is. I went a little way to look for
her, but she is not in sight. Can I do anything, ma'am?'
'No, thank you; but send Gladys as soon as she comes. Provoking,'
continued Miss Gwynne, turning out two or three shelves of a large
wardrobe. 'Where are the trimmings of that blue dress? He said I looked
best in blue, and so, I think, I do. That wreath of blue forget-me-nots
and lilies of the valley, where in the world is it? But forget-me-nots
are so ridiculously sentimental; and the turquoise ornaments? I suppose
I must wear the bracelets and locket. Oh! here they are; and here are
the flowers and trimmings in a box, in the neatest possible order.'
Miss Gwynne began to arrange her hair.
'I declare I have forgotten how to do anything since Gladys has been
with me. I cannot put up this braid neatly. I must wait, and it is
nearly six o'clock, and dinner at half-past. What does it matter how I
look? I daresay Miss Nugent will look twenty times as well, and her
mother will dress her up to perfection. But he _cannot_ care for such a
girl as that. It is impossible; and he always looks at me with such
interest, and has such a kind manner, and says things that convey so
much. But if he really cares for me, why does he not say so? He knows
papa would consent, and--but he does not know that; I never--Ah! here
she is at last! Come in! Where have you been, Gladys? It really is too
provoking that you should have stayed so long, when you knew that I
particularly wanted you to-day.' Gladys enters the room pale and
breathless, just as Miss Gwynne is endeavouring to fasten in the wreath
of forget-me-nots and lilies. She does not turn round, and is at the
moment too much engrossed with her own appearance to think of Gladys.
'Come quickly and finish my hair, and put in this wreath. We ought to be
starting now.'
Gladys obeys without speaking, and steadying her nerves and fingers as
best she may, begins to arrange a most elegant and becoming wreath round
her young mistress's head. Whilst she does this, and afterwards dresses
her and fastens on the turquoise ornaments, she endeavours to collect
her thoughts, and to summon courage for what she has resolved to do and
say.
Gladys has long known Miss Gwynne's secret; as she discovered that she
did not care for Rowland, so she has found out that she cares over much
for Colonel Vaughan. She now knows that he is not worthy of her, and
that if he should ever ask her to marry him, it would be that he might
gain possession of Clanyravon, and not of the warm, sincere heart of its
mistress. Gladys feels sure that a man who could say such words as
Colonel Vaughan said to her, whether meant seriously or not, could not
be worthy of Miss Gwynne; and she determines to open that young lady's
eyes to the real state of his mind, even if she loses her favour for
ever by so doing.
'I shall save her,' thinks Gladys, 'if I ruin my own happiness.'
When the dressing is completed, Freda stands before a cheval glass to
see that all is right. Gladys has never before seen her examine every
portion of her attire so minutely, or look so satisfied with the survey.
In truth she never before saw her look so handsome, or so perfectly well
dressed. The full, light, many-skirted blue dress, with its bouquets of
forget-me-nots and lilies, its fringes and ribbons, suits so well the
fine complexion of the very distinguished-looking girl who wears
it--whilst the wreath slightly crowns the well-shaped head, and falls
gracefully down the neck and back in becoming simplicity and elegance.
Poor Freda! She has more colour than usual, more animation in her eyes,
and more anxiety at her heart. Were she to analyse her feelings, she
would thoroughly despise herself for the envy, vanity, and distrust she
would find in them, and think herself unworthy of the name of woman for
allowing herself to study to gain the attentions of any man who might
feel disposed to give them to another. But her pride is for a time
swamped in her weakness; and the hitherto haughty and unsuspectible Miss
Gwynne is no better than the most sentimental of school girls.
Whilst Gladys is putting the last pin into the dress, and Freda is still
watching her own shadow, there is a knock at the door.
'Make haste, Gladys. The carriage, I suppose. Come in,' says Freda.
'Mr Gwynne wishes to know, ma'am, whether you have seen Colonel Vaughan,
or whether he intends dressing at Pentre?' asks the servant who opens
the door.
'I have not seen him since the morning, and do not know what he means to
do,' is the reply. 'Did you see anything of him when you were out,
Gladys?' continues Miss Gwynne, after the servant has left the room.
As she makes the inquiry, she, for the first time catches the reflection
of Gladys' face in the glass, and is struck with its unusual pallor. She
turns quickly and looks at the girl.
'What is the matter, Gladys? Something must have happened? It must have
something to do with Colonel Vaughan. Did you see him? Speak.'
'Yes, ma'am, I saw him in the wood.'
'And is that the reason you are looking so frightened? What has happened
to him? Speak, I say, or I must ring the bell and send some one in
search of him.'
With her usual impetuosity, Freda's hand was on the bell. Gladys
exclaimed quickly,--
'Do not ring, Miss Gwynne. I can tell you all I know. Nothing has
happened to injure Colonel Vaughan, bodily at least'
'What do you mean, girl?' said Miss Gwynne, turning round again and
facing Gladys.
Gladys stood before her mistress with clasped hands, heaving breast,
quivering lips, and downcast eyes. She tried to summon courage and
words, but neither would come. How could she crush the love and hopes of
one so dear to her? her benefactress, her all? But it must be done.
With one great effort she began, and in as few words as possible,
without comment or gloss, related what had passed between her and
Colonel Vaughan. She told all, as nearly as she could remember, in his
own words, merely omitting what he said about Miss Gwynne.
As she spoke, she felt like a culprit before a judge, who, though
conscious of his innocence, has not courage to meet the glance of him on
whom his fate depends. But not on her own account had she that throbbing
fear at her heart; she felt for her mistress alone.
That mistress stood erect, towering above the drooping girl, like a
queen above a slave or suppliant. Red and pale by turns, with compressed
lips and flashing eyes, she listened to the tale.
When it was finished, she, too, strove for words, but none came; so she
laughed a short, sarcastic laugh, and moved back a few paces. At last,--
'Why do you tell me this ridiculous tale? Have you no better confidante
for such absurd imaginations? You have dreamt it, Gladys. I do not
believe you. Go!'
Gladys gave one penetrating, truthful look at her mistress, before which
the defiant glance fell: but the rigid features alarmed her, and she
would fain have remained, had not another. 'Go! I do not want you any
longer!' sent her at once from the room.
When Gladys was gone, Miss Gwynne sat down upon the nearest chair, and
covered her face with her hands.
Another knock at the door.
'Come in! What do you want?' she exclaimed in a suppressed voice.
'My master says the carriage is ready, and he thinks you had better go,
ma'am. Colonel Vaughan has just come in. The heat has made his nose
bleed so violently that he cannot be ready for dinner, but will be at
Pentre for the ball, ma'am, my master says.'
'Very well; I shall be ready in a few moments.'
Freda rose from her chair, and went to her dressing-table. There was a
bottle of eau-de-cologne on it. She poured out nearly half a
wine-glassful, added water, and drank the dose. Then she dashed a
quantity over her forehead; wetted her handkerchief with more, and
having nearly exhausted the bottle, prepared to leave the room. Suddenly
she stopped, exclaiming,--
'I cannot go! I feel as if I must faint; yet I must see the farce played
out.'
A bitter smile, almost ghastly, passed over her face, as she muttered
these words. She took up a splendid bouquet of greenhouse flowers that
had been prepared for her, and were placed on the table, almost
mechanically, and looking like one in a dream, left the room.
'It is half-past six, Freda,' said Mr Gwynne in the loudest tone of
which his voice was capable, as he descended the stairs.
The servants remarked to one another how very ill Miss Gwynne was
looking, but her father did not perceive it. He was talking of Colonel
Vaughan.
'So provoking of Vaughan, to go and tire himself in the heat, and make
his nose bleed, and all that sort of thing.'
Freda did not answer. Her thoughts were running wild--here, there, and
everywhere. One moment, she believed that Gladys had been romancing for
some purpose of her own; the next, that all she said was true. Then she
felt sure that Colonel Vaughan must really love Gladys, and must mean
all that he said; and a cold shudder crept over her, as she became aware
how much she loved him. Again, she knew that a man of his position could
only be trifling with a girl in her's, and was ready to hate and despise
one who could be so vile. As she thought and thought, she grew paler and
paler--colder and colder; and when she entered Lady Mary Nugent's
drawing-room, that lady said,--
'My dear Freda, what is the matter? You look so ill, and feel so cold.'
'Nothing but the heat. It always has this enervating effect on me,' was
the answer.
The absence of Colonel Vaughan set the shrewd Lady Mary guessing as to
the real cause of the sudden indisposition; she felt sure that something
must have passed between him and Freda more exciting than usual to
occasion such paleness.
At dinner, Freda was fortunate in being placed next Sir Hugh Pryse, who
knew her too well, and was far too fond of her, to make any personal
remarks.
Miss Nugent's uncle, Lord Nugent, was the master of the ceremonies for
the evening. He had come, as Miss Nugent's guardian, to resign his
office, and to be present at her attaining her majority. Freda had once
met him before, and liked him. He was now particularly friendly in his
manner to her, but when he spoke to her across one intermediate person,
she could only answer him in monosyllables. Every one silently remarked
her absence of mind and unusual frigidity.
When the dinner was over, of which Freda only remembered that she had
had certain viands placed before her, and when the ladies were leaving
the dining-room, Colonel Vaughan's voice was heard in the hall. Lady
Mary told a servant to show him into the dining-room; and as Freda was
crossing the hall, she saw him at the opposite end of it. She hurried
into the drawing-room, but was keenly alive to what passed in the hall
after she had done so. She heard him, with his usual courtly manner,
apologise to Lady Mary Nugent for his non-appearance at the
dinner-table, and attribute his accident to his having stood so long on
her lawn, in the heat, watching the poor people at their dinner. He
added that he was glad to have arrived in time to drink Miss Nugent's
health, and proceeded to the dining-room.
Freda did her best to talk to the few, and very select, ladies, who had
been honoured by an invitation to dinner; and felt intense relief when,
one after another, all the evening-party arrived.
Dancing soon began, and Freda saw Colonel Vaughan and Miss Nugent
together in a quadrille. Sir Hugh had asked her to dance with him, but
she begged him to let her sit down that first dance, and promised him
the next.
Of course she watched the pair in whom she was most interested. She was
obliged to confess that Miss Nugent was the handsomest, most elegant,
and best dressed girl in the room; as she talked to Colonel Vaughan, she
looked almost animated; and he, on his part, seemed as gay and perfectly
at his ease, as if there had never been a Gladys in the world. They
were, unquestionably a fine, aristocratic couple; danced well, walked
well, and to all appearance were well pleased with one another. Lady
Mary Nugent watched them quite as narrowly as Freda.
Sick at heart, Freda danced the next dance with Sir Hugh, and managed to
avoid coming in contact with Colonel Vaughan, who had secured Lady Mary
as his partner. Once or twice, however, Freda caught his keen, searching
glance fixed upon her, and knew that he was trying to read her mind, as
he had often done before.
It was useless for her to try to avoid him, as he came direct to her to
ask her for the next dance. She longed to say that she would never dance
with him again, but even she had tact enough to know that it would not
do to refuse, for the sake of the effect such a refusal might have both
on him and the world. All she could do, however, was to bow her consent,
take his arm, and walk, pale, silent, and stately, to the top of a
quadrille. They had met Sir Hugh and Miss Nugent, and Colonel Vaughan
had secured them as _vis-a-vis_; for once his tact had failed him, he
could not have managed worse.
Freda tried to answer his questions, but in vain; she could not be
hypocrite enough to treat him as she was accustomed to do. In him there
was no perceptible change; she once fancied she perceived an uneasy
expression in his face, as he looked at her, but his manner was
friendly, lively, fascinating as ever; he even asked her what was the
matter, and said she looked ill. Her answer was contained in the few
sarcastic words,--
'The heat. I hear you have suffered from it also.'
Although Freda could not, herself, enter into the conversation she could
observe the by-play between the colonel and Miss Nugent; the bashful,
simpering smiles of the young lady, the flattering glances of the
gentleman. She would not have believed, when she awoke that morning,
that it was possible to endure so much real suffering as she was
enduring, in the short space of one quadrille.
It was over at last, and Colonel Vaughan led her to a seat amongst some
ladies. She said she would go to her father, when she saw that he was
going to sit down by her side. He offered her his arm again, and took
her to the drawing-room; here she found her father, somewhat apart from
the rest of the company, talking to Lady Mary, or more properly being
talked to by her. She sat down on a sofa near her father, and bowing
statelily to Colonel Vaughan, said,--
'I will not detain you. I shall remain here for the present.'
He made some passing observation to Mr Gwynne, and returned to the
drawing-room, followed shortly after by Lady Mary.
Sir Hugh came up and began talking to Freda; he was so kind and so
natural even in his loudness, that Freda felt as if she would rather
trust him with every secret of her heart, than the polished worldling
who had just left her.
'And yet, perhaps,' she thought, 'Gladys has really deceived me, and he
is innocent; still, better Gladys than that statue-like Miss Nugent.'
Freda thought the night would never end; she exerted herself to talk and
dance, because every one came to ask what was the matter with her, and
by the time they went to supper, she was as flushed as she had
previously been pale. Lord Nugent was particularly attentive to her, and
evidently admired her very much; bitterly she thought that she could
gain, unsought, the civilities of one man, whilst she was but too
conscious that the one she cared the most for in the world, was devoting
himself almost exclusively to the Nugents. But he was unworthy of the
heart of any right-minded woman, so she would tear him from hers, and
again make her father her first care.
But those despicable Nugents had got possession of him also. He was
seated next to Lady Mary at supper, her profile and diamonds were
directed at him, and she looked almost as young, and quite as handsome
as her daughter. Alas! and again alas! poor Freda!
However, all things come to an end, and an heiress's twenty-first
birthday amongst them. Miss Nugent's did not finish till three o'clock
in the morning, at which hour, Mr and Miss Gwynne and Colonel Vaughan
were driving home from the festivities at Pentre. The gentlemen were
keeping up a rather lively conversation on the events of the evening,
and the lady was sustaining a very strong conflict with her own pride.
As the carriage rolled past a certain large oak tree in the Park, Freda
suddenly remembered Rowland Prothero. About a twelvemonth ago she had
left him beneath that oak, humbled and deeply pained, doubtless, by her
haughty words. Now she was similarly pained and humbled, and she was,
for the first time, aware of the shock her proud refusal of his love
must have been to him. Had she not been weak enough to yield her heart
unasked, and was it not almost thrown back into her own bosom? She, who
had believed herself above the silly romance of her sex, to have sunk
below even Miss Nugent. But she would rouse herself from such a mania,
and show Colonel Vaughan how thoroughly she despised him.
She did rouse herself, and the first words she heard were,--
'Yes, certainly, very handsome, mother and daughter,' from Colonel
Vaughan's lips.
'And which is to be the happy object of your notice, Colonel Vaughan?'
she asked, suddenly joining in the conversation. 'I heard grand
discussions on the subject on all sides.'
'Really,' replied the colonel, somewhat surprised by the sudden
question, 'I did not know I was of so much importance.'
'What! you, about whom every one is speculating.'
'Freda, my dear, I am so glad you are able to speak. I thought you
so--ill, dull, unlike yourself, and all that sort of thing.'
'Thanks, papa, I was thoroughly overpowered by the heat; but this
delightful breeze has refreshed me. I hope, Colonel Vaughan, you also
have got over your weakness. I wonder you ever returned alive from
India, if such a day as this was sufficient to upset you.'
Further sarcasm was cut short by their reaching the house, for which
Freda was very thankful, at a later period, feeling that she lowered her
dignity by allowing herself to allude, however covertly, to Gladys or
Miss Nugent. But she was scarcely herself when she did so.
Colonel Vaughan was going to help her out of the carriage, but she
passed quickly up the steps without touching his arm.
He had felt her lash, and now fully understood that she knew of his
meeting with Gladys, and guessed that he had designs upon Miss Nugent or
her fortune. For once in his life he felt somewhat abashed as he met the
eye of the pale, haughty girl, whom he really admired twenty times as
much as Miss Nugent, or any other young lady of his then devotees. And
he admired her still more, as she kissed her father's cheek, nodded a
haughty 'good-night' to himself, and went upstairs to her room in the
haste of strong excitement.
As soon as she was gone, Colonel Vaughan told Mr Gwynne that he had
promised Sir Hugh Pryse to go and spend a week with him, and that he
should leave Glanyravon for that purpose on the morrow.
'You will come back again, of course?' said Mr Gwynne.
'Oh yes, certainly! but I have only ten days more leave, and then I must
bid you all good-bye again.'
'I am so sorry, and so will be Freda when she hears it. What could have
been the matter with Freda to-night, I never saw her so odd? But I
suppose it was the heat, and all that sort of thing; good-night. I am
tired to death, though it was a charming party, certainly a charming
party.'