VISITORS.
In aught that from me lures thine eyes
My jealousy has trial;
The lightest cloud across the skies
Has darkness for the dial.
--Lord Lytton.
Bluebell had no difficulty in preserving silence about the Sunday's
escapade. It never occurred to Mrs. Rolleston to enquire what time she
had returned, and an evasive answer to Cecil was all that it entailed.
But she was very much perplexed by the change in Captain Du Meresq's
manner. The cold civility recommended by Miss Opie seemed all on his
side. Nothing but good-humoured indifference was apparent in his manner.
Their acquaintance did not seem to have progressed further than the first
evening; indeed, it had rather retrograded; and she could almost imagine
she had _dreamt_ the tender speeches he had lavished on her in the Humber
woods.
Cecil and he were out sleighing most afternoons, and Bluebell was thrown
on nursery and school-room for companionship--insipid pabulum to the
vanity of a young lady in her first glimpse of conquest, and who believed
she had stricken down a quarry worthy of her bow. Having nothing to
distract her, she considered the problem exhaustively from morning till
night, and, if she were not in love with him before, she had got him into
her head now, if not into her heart. His being so much with Cecil did not
strike her as any clue to the mystery. They were relations, of course, or
nearly the same thing; there was no flirting in their matter-of-fact
intercourse.
Cecil found her one afternoon reading over the bed-room fire, in a
somewhat desponding attitude. Miss Rolleston had just come in from a
drive, her slight form shrouded in sealskins, an air of brightness and
vivacity replacing her usual rather languid manner.
"You wouldn't think it was snowing from my cloak," cried she. "It is
though--quite a heavy fall, if you can call anything so light heavy. We
were quite white when we came in, but it shakes off without wetting."
"It won't be very good sleighing, then, to-morrow, and the wind is
getting up, too."
"And what have you been doing, Bluebell?"
"I walked with the children and Miss Prosody in the Queen's Park," said
the latter, rather dolefully.
"And it was very cold and stupid, I suppose?" said Cecil, kindly. "Come
down to the drawing-room and try some duets."
There were two or three visitors below and Bertie, and some tea was
coming in. They were looking at a picture of Cecil's just returned from
being mounted as a screen. It was a group of brilliant autumn leaves--the
gorgeous maple, with its capricious hues, an arrow-shaped leaf, half red,
half green, like a parrot's feather, contrasting with another "spotted
like the pard," and then one blood-red. The collecting of them had been
an interest to the children in their daily walks, and Cecil had arranged
them with artistic effect.
One of the visitors was a rather pretty girl, whom Bluebell had known
formerly. She gave her, however, only a distant bow, while she answered
with the greatest animation any observation of Captain Du Meresq's. This
young lady was to be one of the sleighing party next day, and, as far as
she could admit such a humiliating fact, was trying to convey to him,
that she was as yet unappropriated for any particular sleigh.
"Who is to drive you, Miss Rolleston?" asked she, suspecting, from his
backwardness in coming forward, that the object of her intentions might
be engaged there.
"I am going in the last sleigh, with Major Fane. We take the luncheon and
pay the turnpikes. He is Vice-President this time."
"By-the-bye, Du Meresq," said the Colonel, rather exercised to find a
lady of the party without a swain, "whom have you asked?"
"Oh, everybody is engaged," said Bertie, mendaciously ignoring Miss
Kendal's half-admission of being open to an offer. "I shall not join the
drive at all, unless," he added, in a hesitating manner, as if it was a
sudden thought, "Miss Leigh will compassionate me, and allow me to take
charge of her."
Bluebell, confused by this unexpected proposition, and by feeling so
many eyes turned upon her, did not immediately make any answer; then a
vexatious remembrance intruded itself, and she replied, with what that
individual would have thought most unnecessary concern,--
"I am very sorry--I mean--I believe I am half-engaged to Mr. Vavasour."
"I should think you were," said Mrs. Rolleston. "I don't know what he
would say if you threw him over."
"Oh!" said Bertie, plaintively, "if that insinuating youth has been
beforehand, of course there's no chance for me. Well, I am out of the
hunt,"--and he carelessly whistled a bar of "Not for Joseph" in reply to
a suggestive motion of his sister's towards Miss Kendal.
"I should think it so dull," said that young lady, tossing her head, "to
be engaged so long before. _I_ do not intend to decide till the day."
"What shall you keep all your admirers in suspense till the last moment?"
said Bertie, with a covert sneer, for he was angry at her slighting
behaviour to Bluebell. "What a scramble there will be!"
Miss Kendal was not altogether satisfied with the tone of the remark, so
she commenced tying on her cloud, observing sharply, "Well, mamma, we
shall be benighted if we stay any longer."
Bertie dutifully attended them to the sleigh, and won the elder lady's
heart by the skill with which he tucked round her the fur robes and the
parting grace of his bow.
She was about to purr out some commendation, when--"What a bear that man
is!" burst with startling vehemence from Miss Kendal's coral lips.
"Oh! my dear, what can you mean? I thought he seemed so agreeable."
"I as good as told him," muttered the ruffled fair, too angry to be
reticent, "that I had no one to drive me to-morrow; and I think it was
real rude asking that Bluebell Leigh before my face,--a mere nursery
governess--and not giving me so much as the chance of refusing him."
"But you said," urged Mrs. Kendal, who did not see beyond the proverbial
nasal tip, "that you would not decide on your sleigh till the day."
"I only know," said the daughter, with dark emphasis, "I wouldn't drive
with him now, if he went on his bended knees to ask me."
"Thank you, Bella," said Bertie, returning. "Nice little game you had cut
out for me! What an odious girl!"
Cecil's jealous instinct detected the root of this animosity, more
especially guided thereto by his attempt to secure Bluebell as a
companion, which had surprised her not too agreeably.
"What is her crime," said she, sarcastically, "beyond a rather
transparent design of driving with you Bertie?"
"She is hung with bangles like an Indian squaw, and has a Yankee twang in
her voice."
"She pretended to scarcely remember me," said Bluebell, "though we were
at school together."
"Jealous, I dare say," laughed Bertie. "Is she an admirer of Jack
Vavasour's?"
"Fancy any one admiring a boy like that!" said Bluebell, who did not feel
in charity with her allotted charioteer.
Bertie had advanced to take her cup, and as she said this, it seemed to
Cecil he touched her hand caressingly under cover of it.
"I dare say," said she sharply, "Alice Kendal has as many admirers as
other people, and, perhaps, can dispense with counting Captain Du Meresq
among them."
Bluebell looked up, astonished at her manner; but Bertie perceived it
with more intelligence, and the thought, "What a bore it will be if
she is jealous," afterwards passed through his mind,--by which may be
inferred he had had in contemplation the acquisition of "Heaven's last
best gift."