"Oh, I am so glad!" he said. "I should like to find we admired the same
things; but no picture could interest me as much as your hair. It is the
loveliest thing I have ever seen, and you do it so beautifully."
That did please me. He has the most engaging ways--Lord Robert--and he is
very well informed, not stupid a bit, or thick, only absolutely simple and
direct. We talked softly together, quite happy for a while.
Then Mr. Carruthers got rid of Mr. Barton and came towards us. I settled
myself more comfortably on the velvet cushions. Purple velvet cushions and
curtains in this gallery, good old relics of early Victorian taste. Lots
of the house is awful, but these curtains always please me.
Mr. Carruthers's face was as stern as a stone bust of Augustus Cæsar. I am
sure the monks in the Inquisition looked like that. I do wonder what he
was going to say, but Lord Robert did not give him time.
"Do go away, Christopher," he said. "Miss Travers is going to teach me
things about Italian Madonnas, and I can't keep my attention if there is a
third person about."
I suppose if Mr. Carruthers had not been a diplomat he would have sworn,
but I believe that kind of education makes you able to put your face how
you like, so he smiled sweetly and took a chair near.
"I shall not leave you, Bob," he said. "I do not consider you are a good
companion for Miss Evangeline. I am responsible for her, and I am going to
take care of her."
"Then you should not have asked him here if he is not a respectable
person," I said, innocently. "But Italian Madonnas ought to chasten and
elevate his thoughts. Anyway, your responsibility towards me is
self-constituted. I am the only person whom I mean to obey," and I settled
myself deliberately in the velvet pillows.
"Not a good companion!" exclaimed Lord Robert. "What dam cheek,
Christopher! I have not my equal in the whole Household Cavalry, as you
know."
They both laughed, and we continued to talk in a sparring way--Mr.
Carruthers sharp and subtle, and fine as a sword-blade; Lord Robert
downright and simple, with an air of a puzzled baby.
When I thought they were both wanting me very much to stay, I got up and
said good-night.
They both came down the gallery with me, and insisted upon each lighting a
candle from the row of burnished silver candlesticks in the hall, which
they presented to me with great mock-homage. It annoyed me--I don't know
why--and I suddenly froze up and declined them both, while I said
good-night again stiffly, and walked in my most stately manner up the
stairs.
I could see Lord Robert's eyebrows puckered into a more plaintive
expression than ever while he let the beautiful silver candlestick hang,
dropping the grease onto the polished oak floor.
Mr. Carruthers stood quite still, and put his light back on the table. His
face was cynical and rather amused. I can't say what irritation I felt,
and immediately decided to leave on the morrow--but where to, fate or the
devil could only know.
When I got to my room a lump came in my throat. Véronique had gone to bed,
tired out with her day's packing.
I suddenly felt utterly alone--all the exaltation gone. For the moment I
hated the two down-stairs. I felt the situation equivocal and untenable,
and it had amused me so much an hour ago.
It is stupid and silly, and makes one's nose red, but I felt like crying a
little before I got into bed.