TWO SERPENTS.
I do not think that if Tessie and Ange had foreseen that the presence of
Mr. Charteris under their father’s roof was to entail a series of visits
from Miss Sophy Markham, they would have rejoiced so greatly at the
acquisition of their boarder. But she certainly lost no time in paying
the preliminary one. As I descended to breakfast the following morning,
I was surprised to hear her shrill voice from the _salle_, and stopped
midway in my journey to demand of Madame Marmoret in the kitchen if it
were possible that I heard aright.
Madame Marmoret, with her head tied up in a red handkerchief and gold
earrings dangling from her ears, looked like a picturesque and pleased
old gipsy.
‘For certain it is she,’ was her reply, ‘and why not? _Ma foi!_ one
would think, to see your surprise, that eight o’clock was an unheard-of
hour to get out of bed. It may be the custom in England, but for St.
Pucelle, thanks to the Blessed Virgin and the good Abbé, who teaches us
better, we do not waste the precious time here, when it is running on so
fast to carry us to our graves.’
It was very strange to me that Madame Marmoret, who as a rule hated all
the English visitors to St. Pucelle, was never heard to speak ill of
Miss Sophia Markham, who was the most offensive of them all!
Was it possible she could imagine her old master would be so foolish as
to think of taking a second wife from amongst the surplus female
population of Great Britain; he whose habits and associations were so
thoroughly naturalised to the country of his adoption, and who was too
poor even to support his daughters and himself? Well, there were no
limits to be put to the folly of men, young or old, in that respect; but
I trusted from the bottom of my heart, for the girls’ sakes, that it was
not true. The mere supposition, though, made Miss Markham’s voice sound
more screechy and silly than usual, as I continued on my way to the
_salle_. There she sat, in her walking things, a little apart from the
table, evidently waiting till the meal should be concluded, to carry out
the design that brought her there.
Mr. Charteris jumped up from his seat as soon as I appeared, all smiles,
bustle, and animation, and set a chair for me in my own place.
I was so glad it should be so; that the remembrance of anything in our
former intimacy that was likely to make us feel uncomfortable in the
present seemed so completely to have escaped his memory, and left him
free as myself to exchange the courtesies of a new acquaintanceship.
Of course my first duty was to say good-morning to Miss Markham, which
was returned apparently with much fervour. There had never been any open
hostilities between this lady and myself. On the contrary, we were
invariably most polite to one another; nevertheless there existed a
secret feud between us, which, like a smouldering fire, only required
the breath of opportunity to fan into a flame. She knew, although I had
never said so, that I ridiculed her silly conceit, and despised her
falsehood, and she never felt quite easy in consequence when in my
presence.
On the morning in question, I disturbed her in the midst of an animated
conversation with Mr. Charteris, which had set the cherries in her hat
in violent commotion, which had not quite subsided when a shake from my
hand made them begin bobbing again.
‘Miss Marsh the latest of the party!’ she commenced, with an affected
giggle; ‘why, I’m quite astonished! I thought you were the “goody-goody”
one that always set an example for the rest!’
‘I’m not aware that I have ever given the world of St. Pucelle reason to
make such an assertion, Miss Markham,’ I said, as I drew my chair to the
breakfast-table and applied my attention to bread and butter and
radishes.
‘Well! I’m sure Mrs. Carolus thinks so, or she would not be so
constantly seeking for your company. _I’m_ not good enough for her, not
half. She’s so afraid I shall corrupt Willy. He! he! he! She says I have
too many admirers to be a safe companion. Now, Mr. Charteris, _do_ you
think I’ve got too many admirers?’
‘A great many too many, Miss Markham, for the peace of one!’
‘He, he, he! Well, I can’t help it if the men _will_ come after me, can
I? I can’t get a little whip and whip them away! It was always the same
ever since I was a little girl. I don’t know what it is in me, but they
_will_ come!’
‘It is very easy to see what it is that attracts them, Miss Markham,’
said Charteris, with a side-glance at Ange that made the poor child
choke over her _tartine_.
‘Oh!’ cried Miss Sophy, with a conscious look that went first down and
then up, and was accompanied by a titter; ‘you’re too bad, Mr.
Charteris! you really are! but you’re just like the rest of them. That
is what makes Mrs. Carolus so jealous of me! She will tease me to tell
her what gentlemen say to me, and then—when I do—oh, goodness! She does
give it to us—doesn’t she, Tiddywinks?’ to the yapping terrier which she
carried as usual under her arm.
‘You have to pay the penalty of being so fascinating,’ remarked
Charteris, who seemed to be the only one disposed to talk to her.
‘Everybody knows what a terrible list of killed and wounded you leave
behind you wherever you go. Look at poor young Thrale! You’ve “mashed”
him entirely, as the young ladies in America say.’
‘Mr. Charteris! How _can_ you? What dreadful nonsense you are talking!
As if Arthur Thrale could ever be anything to me but a friend!’
‘I should think no one in their senses could dream of imagining
otherwise,’ I interposed, rather too bluntly perhaps. ‘Why, Arthur
Thrale is not more than twenty, is he?’
‘I’m sure I don’t know what age he is,’ replied Miss Sophy, rather
crossly—the topic didn’t please her—‘I never ask gentlemen their ages,
and it has nothing whatever to do with the point in question.’
‘When had Love anything to do with Age?’ said Mr. Charteris, still
laughing at her, though she could not see it. ‘Young as poor Thrale is,
you know that you have made him your slave. Why do you suppose he
intends to join the boar-hunt to-day, unless it be to hear his prowess
sounded in your ears?’
‘Don’t you think it would be kinder to persuade him not to go, Mr.
Charteris,’ I observed, ‘since I understand that his prowess is more
likely to land him on the ground than anywhere else? He is an only son,
you know, and if anything were to happen to him, it would doubtless
cause great distress to his family.’
‘Are you acquainted with the Thrales, Hilda?’ asked Mr. Lovett, in
surprise.
‘No, sir, not personally; but Mrs. Carolus has received a letter from
Mr. Thrale’s mother in England, begging her to look after her son as
much as possible whilst he is here, and she repeated the contents of it
to me.’
At these words, two of our little party grew considerably rosier; one
was Miss Sophia Markham, the other my reverend and saintly guardian.
‘It strikes me as a very extraordinary proceeding,’ ejaculated the lady,
‘that Mrs. Carolus should go about St. Pucelle confiding the contents of
her private letters to people who are almost strangers to her.’
‘Most remarkable!’ acquiesced Mr. Lovett; ‘and I should have thought
that had Mrs. Carolus required an adviser on the subject, the pastor of
her church would have been the properest person for her to confide in.’
‘Do you doubt my word, then?’ I asked him quickly.
‘Oh no, my dear Hilda! by no manner of means. If I am disposed to blame
any one, it is Mrs. Carolus. Will you tell us what the rest of the
letter contained?’
‘No, sir; I would rather not. It was told me privately, if not as a
secret; but if you will ask Mrs. Carolus herself, I have no doubt she
will hand the epistle over to you.’
‘Well, I never heard of such a thing before!’ exclaimed Miss Markham,
tossing her head; ‘and it only convinces me of what I have known all
along—that Mrs. Carolus is as mean as she is spiteful. She can repeat
tales against other people, but she would be very much surprised if
other people commenced to tell tales against her. I have held my tongue,
of course, because I have made it a rule through life never to say a
word against another woman’s character, but I could tell stories, if I
chose, that would shut every door in St. Pucelle against Mrs. Carolus
to-morrow, and make the few hairs that poor old fool of a husband of
hers still possesses stand on end with horror!’
‘_I_ never said she had repeated tales against any one,’ I remarked
quietly; ‘but I conclude from your observations that you have read the
letter yourself, Miss Markham.’
She coloured still deeper at this insinuation, but she was not to be
caught by it. She was an old war-horse, and had been in battle too often
to lose her vantage-ground so easily.
‘No, I have not!’ she said as stoutly as if she were speaking the truth.
‘I receive too many letters of my own to have any time to spare for Mrs.
Carolus’s rubbish. But, knowing her as well as I do, I am perfectly
aware that she is not likely to exchange ten minutes’ conversation with
any woman without trying to damage the reputation of another.’
I felt this conclusion to be so true that I had nothing to say in reply,
and, the meal being ended, Mr. Lovett proposed they should walk towards
the Château des Roses, where the meet for the boar-hunt was to take
place.
‘Are you really going to walk up the hill?’ cried Miss Sophy, with
sudden animation, as though the thought had never struck her before.
‘Then I shall walk with you—that is,’ with an arch look at Charteris,
‘if you will consent to be troubled with a stupid thing like me. I love
a brisk walk in the morning. There is nothing like it for health. I
always go on principle; and as for Tiddy boy, he couldn’t eat his dinner
if he hadn’t a run first. Could you, my Sweetikins?’
Sweetikins and Mr. Charteris and Mr. Lovett having simultaneously
declared that there was nothing they would enjoy so much as the company
of the fair Sophia, they all set off together to walk up the hill,
whilst Tessie and Ange looked after them from the window with wistful
eyes. I thought how they would have enjoyed to see the hunting-party
start; how Tessie would have admired her Baron on horseback, and little
Ange would have been pleased with everything; and I asked them why they
had not also proposed to accompany their father.
‘Oh no!’ said Tessie, almost shrinking at the idea. ‘Papa would have
mentioned it if he had wished us to go. Besides, we have so many things
to keep us at home. We are not idle people like Sophy Markham. Didn’t
she go on in a horrid manner with Mr. Charteris, Hilda, shaking her head
at him in that absurd way? I felt so ashamed of her.’
‘He doesn’t like it; that’s one comfort!’ observed Ange, over her
shoulder.
‘No, I should hope he had better taste, or he would hardly be pleasant
company for us,’ I responded heartily.
I had done with him myself, but it would have been a step lower to take
in humiliation, to have watched him in an earnest flirtation with such a
battered heart as that of Miss Sophy Markham.
‘I do not think Mr. Charteris is the sort of man that either of you will
make a _friend_ of; but the acquaintanceship even of one who brought
Miss Markham in his train would not be calculated to render our home
more comfortable.’
The girls both looked startled at my assertion.
‘Not make a friend of, Hilda?’ repeated Tessie; ‘isn’t he _nice_, then?’
‘Very nice, dear, as far I know; but for friendship you want something
more than “_niceness_.” You want sympathy in taste and feeling; and I
fancy Mr. Charteris is too much addicted to field-sports to make a good
companion for women. Arthur Thrale is more fitted for such a capacity.’
‘_Arthur Thrale!_’ ejaculated Ange with glorious contempt, as she
slipped away in answer to a loud demand for her in Madame’s sweet voice.
‘Hilda,’ said Tessie, coming closer to my side, ‘what was it that
Arthur’s mother wrote to Mrs. Carolus about? Was it—of—of—what we were
speaking last night?’
‘Not exactly, Tessie ; but I much fear it has something to do with it.
It concerned a loss of money on the boy’s part.’
‘Oh, what _shall_ we do? what _shall_ we do?’
I had never heard such a tone of despair in Tessie’s quiet voice before,
and when I turned to look at her the tears had gathered in her eyes
again, and her face was drawn with anxiety and pain.
‘Don’t cry, Tessie,’ I said, kissing her—‘it is no fault of yours; and
if boys will be foolish, they must pay the penalty. However, I mean
to——’
‘My dear Miss Lovett, I hope I am not interrupting you!’ exclaimed the
voice of Mrs. Carolus, at the open door; ‘if so I will go back at once:
indeed, I told my Willy I should not be absent more than ten minutes,
but I just wanted to ask the question, have you seen Sophy Markham
anywhere this morning?’
I had started forward to receive our visitor, and give Tessie time to
dry her eyes, or the intelligence that she had been crying would have
been communicated to the whole of St. Pucelle before sunset. I felt more
kindly towards Mrs. Carolus also than to Miss Markham, because, although
they were equally ill-natured to the world, the one had been more
friendly to me than the other.
‘Yes! Miss Markham has but just left us,’ I replied. ‘She was here
before breakfast, and went up the hill directly afterwards with——’
‘Not with Mr. Charteris?’ exclaimed Mrs. Carolus, as she clasped her
hands and sunk into a chair.
‘Yes, with Mr. Charteris and Mr. Lovett!’ I replied, unable to help
laughing at the tragic attitude she had assumed.
‘Oh, Miss Marsh, it is too bad! it is too bad of her altogether! I cast
her off from to-day. I refuse to have anything more to do with her! She
is not a respectable person to be associated with, nor to have living in
one’s house.’
‘I think you are rather hard on her, Mrs. Carolus. She is very silly, I
know, but you need have no fear that Mr. Charteris will do more than
laugh at her! Indeed, I am afraid he was laughing at her all
breakfast-time, but she did not seem to see it.’
‘She never sees anything, my dear. She is eaten up with self-conceit,
and if the whole world bowed down before her in mock homage she would
take it for real, and accept it as her due. She fancies she is a giddy
little butterfly, and that gentlemen admire her childish voice and ways,
and are attracted by them. She would no more believe that they ridicule
her afterwards than that they imagine her to be more than
five-and-twenty! It is the _truth_, my dear girls. If I had to die the
next moment, I should say the same thing. She actually had the audacity
to tell me last week that Mr. Charteris had guessed her age at
five-and-twenty. And she is five-and-fifty if she is a day!’
Tessie and I both laughed so immoderately at this, that we encouraged
Mrs. Carolus to proceed with her complaints.
‘When she came and told me that she had seen Mr. Charteris at Rille, and
persuaded him to come to St. Pucelle, I looked her in the face and said
solemnly: “Sophia Markham, can you assure me that if that young man
comes here you will not carry on with him in the disgraceful way you did
last year at Brussels, because, if so,” I said, “tell me at once, and I
will leave the place before shame drives me from it.” For if you could
have seen, my dears, the things that went on between those two, you
would have been as disgusted as I was.’
‘Come, Mrs. Carolus!’ I deprecated, ‘you are taking away Mr. Charteris’s
character now, remember, as well as that of your friend.’
‘Oh! my dear, it wasn’t _his_ fault! Poor fellow, what could he do with
a woman running after him morning, noon, and night, and dodging him
wherever he went? His life was a martyrdom to him. But where Sophia
takes a fancy she has no mercy!’
‘This becomes serious!’ I replied, with mock gravity; ‘what shall we do
to save him?’
‘Nothing will save him,’ said Mrs. Carolus, seriously. ‘Who is to
control a woman of that age? I cannot do it! And fancy her having the
forwardness to attack him the very first morning. She would have come
round last night if she had dared. But, bless my soul! isn’t that Sophy
herself coming down the hill? So it is. The hunting-party must have
started, then; she wouldn’t leave them one moment sooner, you may take
my word for that! Oh! she has caught my eye, I _must_ nod to her. She
has the most suspicious temper in the world, and would be sure to think,
if she saw me here, that I had come up expressly to abuse her. Ah! now
she must come in, of course, and I shall be obliged to walk through the
town with her while she makes herself conspicuous at every step. Well,
Sophy dear, have you enjoyed your walk?’
To hear these two women abuse each other when apart, and to see the
marvellous transformation that took place in their speech, manner, and
expression, as soon as they found themselves together again, was to
witness one of the most curious phases of this world’s deceit.
‘Sophy dear’ bent down and kissed Mrs. Carolus’s cheek before she
answered:
‘Pretty well! I wish you had been with us, Lizzie! Monsieur de
Nesselrode looked so graceful on horseback! and _your_ flame Charteris
has a seat like a centaur. I really think the horse Despard has sent him
would throw any ordinary rider.’
‘_My_ flame! You wretch!’ cried the married lady, with girlish
indignation, as she made a playful poke at Miss Sophy with her parasol.
‘I wonder what my Willy would say, to hear you talk like that. And when
I have just been telling Miss Marsh and Miss Lovett how you ran away
from us before breakfast this morning, in order to see the gentlemen
start!’
‘I didn’t do any such thing,’ responded her friend. ‘You are such lazy
creatures, I should get no breakfast till ten o’clock if I waited for
you. And it was really incumbent on me to be home again somewhat early
this morning, Lizzie; for I must alter that new costume of yours before
you wear it again. It is crooked in the back, and makes your nice
straight figure look quite like that of an old woman.’
‘Thanks, dear! You don’t know what a clever creature this is, Miss
Marsh! She makes all her own dresses and bonnets and mantles; and she
has been so good-natured, since she has been staying with me, in
altering and manufacturing my wardrobe, that I am sure I don’t know what
I shall do when she is gone.’
‘Perhaps I don’t mean to go,’ said Miss Markham, facetiously.
‘You droll creature! Not if some one of your numerous admirers proposes
to carry you off?’
‘Ah, that would be a different thing. But if I married to-day,’
continued Miss Sophy, with the confidence in marriage of eighteen, ‘you
would send back for me to-morrow!’
‘Did you ever hear such impudence!’ cried Mrs. Carolus, appealing to us.
‘She actually imagines I couldn’t do without her! Well, Sophy, in that
case, I suppose I should have to give house-room to _il caro sposo_ as
well.’
‘I rather fancy you would! Do you think I should come without him? I
shall make much too great a pet of my husband for that.’
‘Well, he’ll be a lucky fellow, whoever he is, when the day comes,’
responded Mrs. Carolus.
Tessie and I, listening open-mouthed to this extraordinary example of
feminine friendship, could not but believe that the last sentence at
least was intended for sarcasm. But if so, no inflection of the
speaker’s voice betrayed it. The words left her lips as glibly as though
she were sounding the praises of her dearest friend.
I turned away, sick at this exhibition of deceit, and thinking what
mischief it was _not_ in the power of such women to create, who could
lie with impunity, not only to each other but themselves. I stood there,
silent and thoughtful, until, to my relief, I heard their voices in
chorus, declaring it was time to go.
‘Good-bye, Miss Marsh! Good-bye, Miss Lovett! Come, Sophy dear,’ said
Mrs. Carolus, blithely.
‘All right, Lizzie dear,’ replied the other. ‘Ta-ta, girls! I dare say I
shall see you again before long;’ and so they interlinked arms, and went
down the road together lovingly.
Tessie and I turned and looked into each other’s faces.
‘Is it not sickening?’ I asked her, after a pause.
‘It frightens me,’ she answered; and as I saw her pale face and lips, I
believed that the insight she had experienced to falsehood had really
caused her fear.
[Illustration: [Fleuron]]