A PRIVATE CHAUFFEUR
"MRS. WHARNECLIFFE and Miss Brendon," announced an elderly maidservant,
opening the door of the big drawing-room at the Mount.
The two occupants of the room looked at Gentian rather critically as
she approached them. She wore her close-fitting motor-cap, and a long
white linen coat fell down to her slim ankles. She might have been a
stripling of a boy, so neat, and taut, and severe was her attire.
The eldest Miss Buchan spoke to her first, and Gentian's expressive
face kindled under her friendly look. Miss Anne Buchan was a handsome
old woman with dark eyes and white hair, and an extreme air of
fragility. She looked like some hothouse flower that had never been
exposed to any fresh breezes or pure air. She was slight in build and
rather tall, and stooped as she walked. Miss Horatia was younger, with
a rugged tanned face and big blue eyes, and a humorous mouth. She was
standing in the window mending a hunting crop and whistling as she did
so. Whilst Miss Anne was clothed in rich satin gown with priceless
lace about her neck, Miss Horatia was in a white shirt and rough tweed
skirt, with two big pockets, which held contents that schoolboys would
have envied.
"And so this is my lady chauffeur," said Miss Anne pleasantly, as she
shook hands with Gentian. "You seem very young for the post, but youth
is to the fore now. It is we old people who are needed no longer."
"Not to give us advice, and remind us of the good old days which have
gone for ever?" said Gentian with her mischievous smile.
"Ah, I wonder if you will take advice from anyone!" Miss Anne responded.
Miss Horatia looked sharply up from her employment.
"How d'ye do?" she said brusquely. "What's your name?"
"Gentian Brendon."
"Oh, these new-fangled names; who chose that for you?"
"Do you mean Gentian? My mother. When I was a baby. I had eyes that
reminded her of the flower."
"And they're the same now," said gentle Miss Anne. "Sit down, child.
Now, Lallie, how are you?"
For the next few minutes Gentian sat and listened to the conversation
which followed, and in which she felt she had no part. Miss Horatia
said very little; occasionally she put in a word. Presently she turned
to Gentian and said suddenly:
"Do you realize that you and I are representatives of two centuries?"
"But you are not very old?"
"I am old in my habits, in my love for God's creatures instead of
men's. Don't expect me to set foot in your snorting bit of machinery.
When my horse and I part company, my life will be done. And when I'm
too old to sit in a saddle, I shall go straight to bed and stop there—"
"I should like to ride," said Gentian a little wistfully; "but cars are
cheaper than horses, and swifter."
Miss Horatia said no more. Mrs. Wharnecliffe did not make a long stay.
Miss Anne discussed everything with Gentian. She told her she would
like her to come every afternoon and take her out, Sundays excepted,
and the salary she mentioned more than satisfied Gentian. She came away
in the highest spirits and thanked Mrs. Wharnecliffe very warmly for
having obtained the post for her.
"I shall be enjoying myself hugely every afternoon, and earning my
living, and be doing quite the proper thing. Nobody, not even Cousin
Thorold, can say it is not nice for me to be driving an old lady out
every day! Why!—Now I come to think of it, Cousin Thorold said he
expected a Miss Horatia Buchan to a tea-party at his house to-morrow.
Can it be the same? She's very sporting looking; not at all his style."
"Horatia and Thorold have been friends for a long time," said Mrs.
Wharnecliffe. "Once upon a time I hoped they would marry."
"Oh, but they'd never suit each other," said Gentian in a startled
tone. "They're both so managing and masterful, and she must be years
older than he is."
"They're just the same age, I believe—"
"Miss Horatia looks as if she could be a great-grandmother—"
"When you come to her age, you won't feel so ancient as that."
Gentian laughed, and said no more.
She drove Miss Anne out the next afternoon from two to four, but came
home to Miss Ward with a very doleful face.
"She won't let me go faster than a horse. Says she likes quiet motion,
so that she can enjoy the air without being blown about. Isn't it a
humiliation and degradation for my dear Mousie! We got no distance, and
when I left her, I scorched along the road for all I was worth. Mousie
and I were panting to do it. It's too horrible for words! I shall never
have the patience to keep the job. Aren't you sorry for me, Waddy? Say
you are!"
"No, I won't, but you can put on speed now, and change your dress,
for we are going to Mr. Holt's to tea. I can't think why the present
generation want such rapid motion. It's very bad for their brains!"
Thorold's tea-party and meeting were a great success. Miss Horatia was
there, and looked on at Gentian tea-making with an amused eye.
"What do you think of that child?" she asked Thorold bluntly. "Does she
think our old world, revolves on its axis entirely and wholly for her?"
"She's very young," said Thorold apologetically. "But life will teach
her what it has taught us."
"We don't all learn the same lessons. Some can't be taught, and some
won't be. I don't think I'm at all an apt learner. But when I was her
age, I was more malleable, I fancy—"
Thorold shook his head at her.
"Never!" he said, and then he went off to talk to some one else.
Gentian chattered away to all the farmers' wives as if she had known
them all her life. When the meeting was over, and they were dispersing,
one of them, a Mrs. Homer, said to Gentian pleasantly:
"Come along one afternoon, miss, and have a cup of tea with me. I've
always held up for you, though there be many which say you be too
light-fingered on the organ for 'em on Sundays. There be almost a
merriment in your pieces afore and after church; they say it be not
seemly in church—"
"Don't you feel happy on Sundays? I always do," returned Gentian. "Why
shouldn't we be bright and cheerful in church?"
"Mrs. Crake—but I'll allow she's had a chapel bringin' up—she's only
conformed to church of late—she said las' Sunday her girl Ada passed
the remark that 'twould be easy to dance to your pieces."
"What a dreadful thing to say!" said Gentian with sparkling eyes. "I'll
give you the creeps next Sunday if I can—a proper solemn dirge. Thank
you for asking me to tea. I shall love to come."
Miss Horatia, was the last one to leave, and then Thorold walked home
with Miss Ward and Gentian.
"I haven't had time to hear how you like this last venture of yours,"
he said.
Gentian laughed.
"Oh, I shan't give myself away. I have only had one day. It is
oppressively slow, but when I think of how many people I have pleased
by taking the job, I feel I shan't live in vain! Miss Anne is an old
dear. I love old ladies. I am so tired—so disgusted—so out of friends
with men."
"Are we such a bad lot?" asked Thorold quietly.
Gentian looked at him with a pretty shake of her head.
"I don't know about you. I'm in and out of friends with you so often!
Waddy is always singing your praises, so of course I do the opposite.
If you took me more seriously, I would like you better. Sir Gilbert is
the only man about here who speaks naturally and earnestly to me—"
"My dear Gentian, your tongue runs away with you—" Miss Ward's tone was
shocked.
"Oh Waddy, I never choose my words with Cousin Thorold. And I'm only
speaking the truth."
They had reached the Cottage. Miss Ward went indoors, but Gentian
lingered at the gate with Thorold.
"I'm sorry I don't take you seriously," Thorold said; "we'll have some
grave talks whenever you like."
"Then we'll have one now," said Gentian impetuously; "come to the
bottom of the garden and sit on the seat with me, where I watch the sun
setting."
Thorold followed her without a word. He sat down on one end of the
seat, she took the other.
She was looking distractingly pretty, in a white embroidered linen
gown, and a shady white hat with a wreath of periwinkles round it which
matched the colour of her eyes. Now she leant forward, elbow on knees,
and her chin in the palm of her hand.
"I want to do something with my life," she said with earnest solemnity.
"I am doing absolutely nothing now. I have been stuck down in this
dear little corner of England, and all of you are drawing fences round
me to keep me in. They are getting nearer and nearer, and my space is
getting smaller and smaller. Waddy and you and Mrs. Wharnecliffe think
I ought to be quite happy in my little cottage, watering the garden,
and helping Waddy to housekeep and then driving out an old lady at a
snail's pace every day. You say,—
"'Now she's protected—now she's safe!'
"And then you ask me out to tea to keep me from feeling dull, and Waddy
says what a pleasant thing it is to have my organ and choir practice
as a recreation. And you quite expect me to go on living like this for
years! It's just stagnation of soul and body, that's what it is. And
God in heaven looks down, and wonders when I'm going to begin to live!"
Thorold was not shocked at this outburst. He was surprised, but he
concealed that, and said in his slow voice:
"And what is your idea of life? You have mentioned God Almighty's name,
and I know you have not used it in mockery. Is it your idea to carry
out His will or your own?"
"Oh, I don't know, but He has made me, I do believe, for something
better than this. What a big world it is! And how much there is to
do. Sir Gilbert talks to me about Heaven's purposes, and the earth's
failures. I have brains, and strength, and leisure, and I can't sit
about in armchairs and just be comfortable—I'm too young for it. And I
have an uncomfortable feeling that I'm living on Waddy's savings. She
always tells me there's plenty of money for our needs. But where does
it come from? I don't earn enough to keep the house going. Miss Anne is
very generous, and I shall be able to support myself on what she gives
me, but I shan't be able to save much. And my life is too easy, and
empty, and narrow. There now! That's the gist of the matter! I shall
break away soon—I must. It's the Bubble's efforts to soar, before it
bursts!"
"But you have had one effort to break away, haven't you? And it wasn't
altogether a success."
"I knew that would come. I have failed. I own it. It is your nasty
English people that have made me fail. But there are other vocations
besides driving motors."
"I fear you are tired of it by now."
Laughter came into her eyes.
"Oh, I'm an awful creature, I know I am. Two days ago I was enchanted
with this fresh job. I am cross to-day because I must make my car's
speed match a horse's. But, all the same, deep down, I know my soul is
meant to do something bigger. And I want to find out the biggest and
best thing to do, and then DO it!"
"There are different estimates of size, I fancy," said Thorold. "We
are like the children who think an orange in their hand much bigger
than the brightest planet in the heavens. Our big things are so
infinitesimal in God's eyes, and His big things are paltry and small in
our estimation."
"That doesn't comfort or guide me in the least," said Gentian, looking
at him thoughtfully.
"If you want to fulfil God's purpose for you, it will be shown you.
Pray, and the answer will come."
Gentian drew in a long breath.
"I never thought that you were quite so good, Cousin Thorold," she
said in a light and airy voice. "Thank you so much for having taken me
seriously for once. I've had enough—"
He smiled at her.
"I'll say no more then—"
He got up from the seat. Gentian accompanied him as far as the gate.
"I have one of my young brothers coming home on leave," Thorold said
as he wished her good-bye. "He's in the navy; he comes to me next
Thursday. I think you'll like him. Godwin is a sunny-hearted youngster."
Gentian rounded her lips into a small ball.
"Boys are so boring," she said; "they always think such a lot of
themselves."
"I have known girls who do the same," said Thorold, and with this
parting shot, he left her.
Gentian went indoors to Miss Ward.
"Do you know I was within an ace of liking Cousin Thorold," she said;
"and then he lapsed into his annoying way of talking, and I feel as if
I never want to see him again!"
"My dear Gentian, you are never of the same mind about anything or
anybody for two minutes together. I often wonder why you put up with me
as you do."
"Waddy dear, you knew and loved my little mother. I have no one in the
wide world left to love me but you, and I think you do just a little—"
Miss Ward looked at her affectionately, but she was not a demonstrative
woman, and it wasn't till Gentian stole up softly to her and put her
arms round her neck, looking into her eyes with such wistful longing,
that she gave her the warm kiss she was expecting.
"Plenty of people will come along and love you, child, if you let them.
I am getting an old woman, and my life will soon be over, but yours is
all in front of you—and you'll never have to complain of being unloved,
I am sure!"
"Do I think a lot of myself, Waddy?"
"Yes, I think you do."
Gentian hugged her.
"You are a dear old truth-teller. You see, I really have no one to
think about but myself. And it is astonishing how fond all people are
of themselves. I believe you are, but you don't show it. Of course I
have to think about myself, because my future is in my own hands, I
suppose. I can make or mar it, can't I? And I want to get the best out
of life. I must—I will. And it's my will that must be kept up to the
mark—
"'The souls of women are so small
That some believe they've none at all.
Or if they have, like cripples still,
They've but one faculty, the WILL!'
"Some nasty man wrote that. Oh, Waddy dear, you're quite right. I'm one
thing one day, and another the next. My small soul is like a bag of
scraps, crammed full of rubbish, bits of good material mixed with the
bad, and never properly sorted out. Now I'm going to water the garden.
Good-bye."
She flashed out of the room and into the garden.
Miss Ward heard her breaking into song as she wielded her watering-pot,
and she sighed heavily.
"I wish I did not love her so much," she murmured; "she needs a firmer
hand, and some one to teach her discipline and self-control."
It was not very long before Gentian met young Godwin Holt. He arrived
like a fresh sea-breeze, and made friends at once with Miss Ward and
Gentian. He was a fair, curly-haired young lieutenant, with fresh
complexion and mischievous blue eyes. He was very susceptible to all
women's influences, and fell headlong in love with Gentian at first
sight.
She treated him as if he were a schoolboy on holiday. Thorold watched
their intimacy with quiet amusement.
One morning Godwin arrived at the Cottage at breakfast time.
"Look here," he said breathlessly; "can you 'phone to your old lady,
Miss Brendon, to spare you to-day? We'll take a car—not yours—because
it's my affair, and go down to the New Forest. You've never been there?
Thought not. We'll lunch at one of the inns in the Forest. I'm going to
drag Thor away from his books and writing. Miss Ward, you'll come too.
Must have an even number. It's a shame to let this topping weather go
by without doing something. I see so little green at sea that I revel
in forests. And you ought to know what England produces in that way!"
"I can't spring it on Miss Buchan so late in the day," said Gentian,
her eyes sparkling at the thought of such an outing. "Won't to-morrow
do? I'm rather afraid she won't like it."
"You can easily get a substitute to take your place. I'll find one for
you in an hour—"
"I'll try," said Gentian, "but we've no 'phone—"
"Thor has. Come on over."
He dragged her off with him.
The 'phone was in Thorold's study.
Gentian looked at him pleadingly.
"Don't tell me I'm a shirker. I've driven her for ten days now at a
snail's pace. And she might give me one day off."
"You'd better ask for Miss Horatia. The old lady will never use the
'phone."
So Miss Horatia was called up.
She received Gentian's suggestion with great coldness.
"My sister does not like to be deprived of her afternoon drive, and
I know she won't hear of a substitute. That is out of the question.
She is far too nervous of cars at present to have a strange driver.
Besides, she has arranged to go and see an old friend of hers this
afternoon."
"Could I have to-morrow off then?"
"I will see—"
"Oh, chuck them," cried Godwin. "You aren't a slavey."
"I'm earning my daily bread," said Gentian in a dignified tone; "and
I'm in her employ."
They waited rather impatiently. Miss Horatia returned in about ten
minutes' time.
"My sister has agreed to forgo her drive to-morrow."
"A thousand thanks. I will be round at the usual time this afternoon."
"Won't to-morrow do as well?" asked Thorold, looking at his young
brother's disappointed face.
"Oh, I hate to-morrows—always have—"
"So have I," said Gentian, "but we'll make the best of it. I shall love
to see the New Forest. But do let us take my car, and let me drive.
That will be half the fun."
"Do you want me to hire you?" asked Godwin. "For I mean to stand the
treat."
"You can pay for the oil we use, if you like, nothing more."
Godwin frowned.
"I hate the independence of girls nowadays. You ought not to know how
to drive!"
Gentian laughed.
"That is the style of the old-fashioned English gentlemen. Of course
you take after your brother!"
"No man, if he's a decent sort, likes to see girls roughing it."
"You would like me in a white muslin gown lying back amongst the
cushions of the car sighing plaintively: 'Please not quite so fast,
driver, the wind is too strong upon my face, the motion shakes me—'
That's what my old lady says to me, and I long to scorch for all I'm
worth."
"What time shall we start?" said Godwin, wisely turning the subject. "I
vote for eight o'clock. It will be a long run."
"I think," said Thorold slowly, looking at Gentian as he spoke, "that
we'll have our own car, Godwin. It will give Gentian a rest. She shall
lie back on comfortable cushions for once in her life, and then we
shan't see those tired lines about her eyes that so often come there."
"You are very rude, Cousin Thorold."
"Miss Brendon couldn't look fitter than she does, but all the same,
I'm with you, Thor. It will be my treat and my car, and I'll choose a
capable driver."
Gentian laughed. Her laughter had such an infectious and delightful
ripple in it, that both brothers smiled at her.
"As I'm to be your guest," she said, "I have nothing to say but a
very grateful 'thank you.' And, if we rumbled along in a donkey-cart,
I should enjoy myself. I love a jaunt of any sort, it reminds me of
Italy. Waddy and I are too poor to take many in England."