The shopping expedition was, by common consent, postponed until the
middle of the following week, when Jack Melland would have taken his
departure.
"Let us make hay while the sun shines. Three is an abominable number,
especially when you happen to be the third," said Mollie, sighing. "Mr
Druce admires you very much, Ruth. I often see him staring at you when
you are not looking; but when I appear upon the scene his eyelids droop,
and he does not deign even to glance in my direction. He puzzles me a
good deal, as a rule. I rather fancy myself as a judge of character,
but I can't decide whether he is really a model of virtue, or a villain
in disguise."
Ruth made a movement of impatience.
"How exaggerated you are, Mollie! Why must you rush off to extremes in
that foolish fashion? Mr Druce is probably neither one nor the other,
but just an ordinary combination of faults and virtues. He is kind and
considerate to Uncle Bernard, and very chivalrous to us;--a hundred
times more so than Jack Melland, who certainly does not err on the side
of politeness. Personally, I don't think any the less highly of people
because they are little reserved and uncommunicative at first. It will
be time enough to judge Mr Druce's character when we have known him for
weeks, instead of days."
"Humph! I believe in first impressions," insisted Mollie obstinately;
"and so do you, really, or you would not bristle up when I dare to cast
a doubt on his excellence. You are going to like him, Ruth, I can see
that quite clearly, and he admires you; so, as I said before, I shall be
the poor little pig who stays at home, while you two wander abroad
together. It's not exactly the programme which my fancy painted when we
came down; but if I devote myself to Uncle Bernard, and cut you both
out, I shall have the best of it, after all. Perhaps, too I may make
friends with someone in the neighbourhood,--there is always the chance
of that, and I do love meeting new people. I suppose callers will begin
to arrive after we have made our first public appearance at church to-
morrow. I am quite excited at the prospect of seeing all the people--
aren't you?"
"I am not going," said Ruth.
And when Mollie exclaimed and cross-questioned, she flushed
uncomfortably, but did not refuse to answer.
"I have made up my mind to go to early service, but not again at eleven
o'clock. It's not that I don't want to go; it's because I want to go so
much--for the wrong reasons! Ever so many times during the last few
days I have caught myself thinking about it, and imagining the scene--
everybody staring at us, while we sit in the squire's pew trying to look
unconscious, but really enjoying it all the time, and building castles
in the air about the future, when we may have a right to be there. We
should be thinking most of all of ourselves, and that's not a right
spirit in which to go to church; so I'm not going. I'm disappointed,
but I've made up my mind."
Mollie leant her head on her hand and gazed thoughtfully before her.
The sisters were seated in the great round window of their bedroom, from
which such a glorious view of the surrounding country could be obtained;
and as Mollie's eyes wandered from the blue of the sky to the fresh
green of the trees, and anon to the patches of golden daffodils among
the grass, a wonderful sweetness softened her young face.
"But God understands!" she said gently. "He made girls, so He must know
how they feel. This is a great occasion for us, and it is natural that
we should be excited and a little bit self-engrossed. Mother would
think it natural, and make excuses for us, even if we were carried away
by our new importance; and God is kinder and more forgiving than mother.
Perhaps, when one is quite old and staid, it is easy to sit through a
service and never think of self; but it is difficult when one is young.
I used to be miserable because every time I had a new hat or dress, or
anything that was fresh, I couldn't help remembering it and being
pleased that I looked so nice, and hoping that other people liked it too
but when I thought it over I came to the conclusion that it was only
natural. Look at that lovely view!" She waved her hand expressively
from right to left. "When God made the world so beautiful and so full
of colour, He must mean us to love pretty things without being ashamed
of it; so now I just thank Him for the new things in my prayers, and
remember them as some of the things to be thankful for. I'm sure it's
the best way. It's cowardice to stay at home because we are afraid of a
temptation. Surely it would be far better to go, to thank God for
giving us this good time, and to ask Him to send us nice friends, and,
if it be His will, to let Uncle Bernard leave us the Court, so that we
may help them all at home!"
She broke off, looking round half timidly in Ruth's face, for it was
reversing the usual roles to find herself laying down the law as to
right and wrong to the serious-minded elder sister. Would Ruth be
annoyed--shocked--disapproving? It appeared that she was not, for the
troubled lines had gradually smoothed away from her forehead, and she
cried heartily--
"Yes, you are right. I feel you are! Thank you for putting it so
plainly, dear. I _did_ want to go to church, and now my conscience will
be clear, so I can go comfortably, feeling it is the right thing. But
oh, Mollie, shall we all four be praying, one against the other, each
one wanting to disappoint the others, and keep the Court for himself?"
"Jack Melland won't, for one; and I won't for another. I'm not sure
that I want it and all the responsibility that goes in its train. I'd
honestly rather it were yours, dear; then I could come and sponge upon
you as often as I liked."
"Sponge!" echoed Ruth reproachfully. "As if it would be any pleasure to
me if you were not here! What would become of poor Berengaria without
her Lucille? We are so grand in real life now that we forget the dear
old game; but, when we are back in Attica, we shall be able to play it
better than ever, now that we really know what it feels like to be rich
and have everything one wants!"
Mollie did not answer, and both girls sat silently gazing before them,
while their thoughts wandered northwards to a shabby, crowded house, and
to a sloping-roofed attic under the leads, in which so many hours had
been spent. Mollie smiled, remembering the little make-shifts and
contrivances, seeing the humour of them, and feeling again the glow of
triumph with which each difficulty had been surmounted.
Ruth shuddered with a mingling of fear and repulsion.
Oh, how bare it was--how poor, and small, and unlovely! the few small
rooms, the shabby furniture, the little plot of grass in front of the
door which did duty as a garden. Could it be possible that in a few
short months she might have to return and take up life once more under
the old conditions? The thought of Dr Maclure's handsome house had
been a distinct temptation to her when he had asked her to be his wife;
then how much more the beautiful old Court?
"I would do anything to get it!" thought poor Ruth desperately. "Oh, if
I could only find out what Uncle Bernard wants! It is terrible to be in
the dark like this!"
The next day was Sunday, and the ordeal of church-going proved to be
much less trying than had been expected, for the congregation was mainly
composed of villagers, who looked too stolid and sleepy to trouble
themselves about the appearance of strangers, even when seated in the
squire's pew. The pew, moreover, was situated in the front of the
chancel, so that it was all the easier to pay whole-hearted attention to
the service. Coming out through the churchyard, the girls were
conscious of glances of interest directed towards themselves by various
little parties who plainly composed the gentlefolk of the neighbourhood.
At the gate one or two carriages were waiting in readiness to convey
their owners home, the best appointed of which was presently occupied by
an old lady and gentleman, whom Ruth recognised from Mrs Thornton's
description as being the couple whom the renowned Lady Margot Blount was
about to visit. She said as much to Mollie, when the carriage had
passed by, and the four young people were strolling together in easy
country fashion along the road.
"Did you notice, Mollie? Those must be Mr and Mrs Blount, who live at
the Moat. I should know them anywhere from Mrs Thornton's description.
I wonder whether they will call, and if Lady Margot Blount will come
with them? She was expected this week, I think."
She was interrupted by a sharp exclamation, and turned with her two
companions to stare in amazement into Victor Druce's transformed face.
For once amazement had broken down the veil which gave a tinge of
mystery to his personality; his sallow cheeks showed a streak of colour,
and his eyes were wide open and eager.
"Lady--Margot--Blount!" he repeated incredulously. "Here, in this
village! You say she is expected to meet those people who have just
driven past? Is it possible? Who told you about her?"
Ruth stared at him, amazed in her turn by his energy of manner.
"Mrs Thornton told us so, the night she dined at the Court. We asked
her what girls were in the neighbourhood, and among the number she spoke
of Lady Margot as a constant visitor to her uncle and aunt. Why are you
so surprised? Do you know her in town? Is she a friend of yours?"
Victor hesitated, biting the ends of his moustache.
"I can hardly call her a friend. We are not in the same set; but I saw
a good deal of her last autumn. Some people I know were getting up
tableaux for a charity bazaar, and asked us both to take part. There
were a good many rehearsals, so that we grew for the time pretty
intimate; but she went off to Egypt for the winter, and I have heard
nothing of her since the night of the performance."
"But have thought a good deal all the same!" said Mollie shrewdly to
herself, looking at the dark face, which looked so handsome in its
unaccustomed animation.
If Victor Druce often looked like that, he would be a fascinating
companion. To have the power so to influence him and excite his
interest would be perilously attractive. A few hours before, Mollie had
been almost prepared to declare that she distrusted and disliked this
new acquaintance; now she was conscious of a distinct feeling of envy
towards the unknown Margot.
"How interesting that you have met already! Mrs Thornton was so
enthusiastic in her praise, that she roused our curiosity to fever-
pitch. Do tell us what she is like! We are longing to know."
But Victor did not appear inclined to be communicative. The heavy lids
fell over his eyes, and he murmured a few non-committal sentences. It
was difficult to describe a girl so as to give any real idea of her
appearance. He was not skilled at word-painting. If Lady Margot was so
soon expected, would it not be better to wait and judge for themselves?
Mollie shrugged her shoulders impatiently, and forthwith began her
catechism.
"Tailor short?"
"Er--medium; not small, not too tall."
"The perfect mean? I understand! Dark or fair?"
"Dark eyes, chestnut hair."
"Oh, that's not right. She has no right to monopolise the beauties of
both complexions. And chestnut hair, too, the prettiest shade of all!
Is she a real, true beauty, or only just pretty, like ordinary folk?"
"That must be a matter of personal opinion, mustn't it, Miss Mollie?
Ideas vary so much on these subjects."
"Checkmate!" sighed Mollie to herself. "He won't say what he thinks,
and I can't be so rude as to ask directly, though it's just what I'm
dying to know." Aloud, she said carelessly, "Oh, I've no doubt I shall
think her lovely, and adore her as I do all lovely people; that is, if
she doesn't scare me too much. Is she formidable and _grande dame_, or
lively and easy-going?"
"That again must surely depend upon circumstances," replied Victor
sententiously, whereat Mollie tossed her head, declaring that he was as
aggravating as Uncle Bernard himself, and almost as enigmatical.
As for Ruth, she walked along with compressed lips and frowning brows.
It was not possible for a girl to find herself thrown into close
companionship with two young men, and not wonder in the recesses of her
heart if perchance friendship might not eventually develop into
something warmer. Ruth and Mollie had both thought and dreamed, and to
each it had occurred that possibly some such ending of the great problem
might have occurred to Mr Farrell himself. There was no barrier of
near relationship to prevent two of the young people making a match, if
they were so disposed; and while Uncle Bernard, so far, seemed to favour
his elder niece, he had expressly stated that he would prefer a male
heir. Ruth's favour was not easily won, but as both young men appeared
agreeable, gentlemanly, and good-looking, it had been a distinctly
pleasant experience to look forward and wonder if he,--if I,--if perhaps
some day, long ahead, when we know each other well... All girls have
such dreams, and understand how their existence adds savour to a
situation. It was not a little trying, then, when Jack Melland insisted
on returning to town, and Victor Druce, in his turn, must needs betray
an undoubted interest in another girl.
"Tiresome thing!" murmured Ruth to herself; referring, needless to say,
not to Victor, but to the innocent Margot herself. "I knew I should
dislike her from the moment when Mrs Thornton mentioned her name. Why
couldn't she be happy in town, with all her grand friends, instead of
rushing down here to interfere with us the moment we arrive? She is
sure to hear the reason why we are here--everyone knows it; and if she
is mercenary she will like Victor better now that he has a chance of
inheriting the Court, and, when he knows her connection with the
neighbourhood, she will seem to him more desirable than ever. Uncle
Bernard would be pleased, and think her a suitable mistress for the
Court, and they will get everything, and we'll get nothing, and go home
as failures... Mother will be disappointed, and everything will be
duller and pokier than ever..."
So on and so on, conjuring up one gloomy vision after another, as was
her unhappy custom, until at length she saw herself stricken in years,
broken in health, lonely and unloved, with nothing in prospect but a
pauper's grave. A strange ending, indeed, to that first public
appearance from which so much had been expected!