Three weeks had passed by. May had begun--an old-fashioned, well-
conducted May--which was really like a foretaste of summer, instead of
the shivery disappointment which so often condemns us to fire and furs.
Jack's ankle was still troublesome, and though he could limp a few steps
with the aid of a stick, his outdoor exercises were for the most part
restricted to peregrinations in the old bath-chair. According to his
account the period had been one of much tribulation, when patience and
forbearance had been tried to their limits by the unnatural conduct of
Miss Mollie Farrell. Instead of behaving like the proverbial
ministering angel, Mollie proved uncertain, coy, and hard to please, and
so full of mischievous pranks that Jack declared that his hair was
turning white, though, if the truth be told, he looked remarkably bright
and happy.
One morning it happened that a chance remark of Jack's offended Miss
Mollie's dignity, and she vowed that she would be revenged. It seemed,
however, that she had forgotten her displeasure for when Ruth and Victor
went off to the village after lunch, she offered herself for the post of
chairman, and wheeled the invalid to his favourite position beneath a
flowering chestnut in front of the house.
The ankle was comfortable, and Jack, having lunched well, felt at peace
with mankind and womankind into the bargain, and quite inclined to enjoy
a pleasant talk. No sooner was he settled, however, than Miss Mollie
drew a book from her pocket, and sitting down on the grass at a few
yards' distance, deliberately turned her back upon him and began to
read.
Jack watched these proceedings in silence, recognising both that he was
being punished for having annoyed his companion in the morning, and also
that he could not better frustrate her intentions than by preserving an
appearance of undisturbed complacency. Accordingly, he sat quietly,
studying the pretty figure in the blue linen dress, and noticing with
satisfaction that the pages were flicked over more rapidly than was
consistent with careful reading.
The book was evidently dull--so much the better! Miss Mollie might find
her own punishment even heavier than his. He himself had nothing to
read, but that did not distress him. A man is not to be pitied if he
cannot make himself happy for an hour or so, even with a sprained ankle,
when there is a charming landscape to gaze upon, of which a pretty girl
makes the foreground.
Jack smiled lazily to himself as he thrust his hand into the tail-pocket
of his coat, but his expression changed tragically as his fingers groped
in vain for the bulky pouch which he had refilled just before leaving
the house. Now, what in the world had happened to that pouch? Could it
have fallen out of his pocket? Impossible! It was too securely
weighted down by its own size. It could not have fallen, but it could
easily have been stolen by the hands of his mischievous charioteer as
she wheeled him across the grass. Jack had no doubt that that was
exactly what had happened, and he congratulated himself on having
smothered an exclamation of dismay, as he saw Mollie's head lifted
cautiously from the pages as if to listen for the expected explosion.
Jack smiled to himself, knowing full well that her patience would soon
be exhausted, and with it the limit of his punishment. It would be a
joke to pretend to be asleep when, at last, it pleased her ladyship to
turn round! The little witch no doubt was fully aware how pretty she
looked, and fondly imagined that he was wrapt in admiration. It would
be a useful snub to find that he had forgotten all about her. So Jack
rested his head against the cushions of his chair, folded his arms, and
kept his eyes rigorously shut for the next few minutes. He felt
delightfully at ease, and the rays of the sun shining through the
branches were at once so subdued, and so comforting, that it came to
pass that what he had plotted in fun came about in earnest, and at the
end of a few minutes his lids were tightly closed, and his breath came
through his lips in long, regular respirations.
Mollie heard the sound, and smiled derisively.
"As if I should believe for one moment that he had gone to sleep!" said
she to herself, with a tilt of the saucy head; but as the moments passed
by, the perfection of the imitation began to disturb her equanimity; the
last breath, for example, approaching perilously near a snore! She
turned cautiously, inch by inch, until a glimpse of the bath-chair could
be obtained, with a fair head drooping upon the cushions. Jack was
asleep! Actually, and in very truth he had calmly slumbered off in
defiance of her displeasure.
Mollie arose in her wrath, and stood over the unconscious figure,
meditating upon the next step. If Jack Melland imagined for one moment
that she was going to mount guard over his slumbers, he would find
himself vastly mistaken; yet she dared not leave him unprotected, for
the ground sloped away from the tree, and a violent movement on the part
of its occupant would be enough to send the chair racing down the
incline. She stood and pondered, then, drawing a handkerchief from her
pocket, crept on tip-toe to the back of the chair and tied the handle to
a convenient bough. It would be almost impossible for Jack, crippled as
he was, to raise himself and turn round sufficiently to undo the knots;
so, after testing their firmness a second time, Mollie took a circuitous
path to the house, there to amuse herself for an hour or more, until Mr
Jack had time to awake and repent himself of his audacity.
The awaking came unexpectedly quickly. Perhaps Jack's slumbers had been
disturbed by Mollie's movements, quiet though they had been; certain it
is that she was hardly out of sight before he stirred uneasily, blinked
once or twice, and finally sat erect in a spasm of remembrance. He had
fallen asleep, not in pretence but in actual fact; for how long he had
slept he had no idea, but meantime the bird had flown, no doubt with
feathers much ruffled by wounded pride.
Jack did not believe that Mollie had gone out of sight; he pictured her
standing a few feet away, squeezed up against the branches of a tree,
with blue skirts held tightly together lest a fold should betray her
presence. Anxiety for his safety would soon bring her rushing to his
side; so he threw himself back in the chair to set it a-going; failed to
make it move, jolted forward, and again found it immovable. Then he
grew suspicious, and craning over his shoulder beheld the tell-tale
handkerchief with the tight little knots twisted purposely well out of
reach.
So this was Mollie's revenge, to leave him stranded in the middle of the
park until such time as it might please her to set him at liberty! Jack
hardly knew whether to be more amused or indignant at the sense of his
helplessness. It seemed so preposterous that a chit of a girl should be
able to keep him prisoner, that for a moment he seriously contemplated
getting out of the chair and limping back to the house. How contrite
she would be when she returned to find the chair empty; how full of
contrition, and anxiety about his welfare!
The prospect was not unpleasant; but after nearly a fortnight's
invalidism, he dreaded doing anything to retard convalescence, and the
more he measured with his eye the distance to the house the more
convinced he became that it was beyond his power to accomplish. It
would be ignominious, indeed, to have to give in half-way, and be
discovered by his tormentor sitting prone upon the ground waiting her
arrival.
Jack determined to be wise in his generation and remain where he was;
but it was dull work sitting alone, without paper or book to while away
the time, and as his chair was turned away from the drive he had not
even the distraction of watching for the return of Ruth and Victor. He
took out his pocket-book, searched through its contents for anything of
interest, made a few calculations on an empty page, and thrust it
impatiently into his pocket. Then he studied his strong white hands,
trying to imagine that they looked thin and delicate, carried out a
systematic search through every one of his pockets, lest, perchance,
anything at all interesting might have wandered into one of them by
mistake; looked at his watch and groaned to find that it was still a
full half-hour to tea-time. At last when patience was well-nigh
exhausted, the crunch of footsteps on the path delighted his ears, and
he called out a vociferous greeting--
"Hallo! are you back? Thank goodness for that. I was just looking out
for you."
No answer. The footsteps came to a momentary pause, then crunched on
again quicker than before. Jack cleared his throat and roared still
louder--
"I say, I'm here! Don't go without me; I'm alone; I want to go up to
the house."
Silence still; another pause and then a deliberate walk onwards, which
roused Jack to veritable anger. This was evidently not Ruth but Mollie,
and Mollie must be taught that there was a point when a joke ceased to
be a joke, and that, bound or free, Jack Melland must be obeyed. When
he spoke again his voice was not loud any longer, but cuttingly cold and
severe.
"Will you kindly come here and unloose my chair; I refuse to be kept a
prisoner any longer."
The footsteps paused abruptly; the swish of a silken skirt came across
the grass, and a woman's clear, high-bred voice cried abruptly--
"A prisoner! Oh, what is the matter? Please tell me what I can do. I
would have stopped at once, but I did not think you could possibly be
talking to me."
Jack looked up in amaze, and beheld a tall girl clad in grey, a little
head beautifully poised on an unusually long neck, and a pale, oval
face, out of which looked a pair of deep, violet eyes. The stranger was
not beautiful, not even pretty, but in the way she spoke, in the way she
moved, in the way she stood looking at him, with the folds of her dress
held together in one slender hand, there was an air of distinction which
marked her out from the ordinary run of womankind.
Jack felt overcome with embarrassment as he remembered his imperious
summons, and so much at a loss to explain his predicament that for a few
moments he could not find words, but just lay back in his chair staring
at her with horrified eyes.
The stranger evidently perceived his embarrassment, for she came a step
forwards and said tactfully--
"I think you must be Mr Melland. May I introduce myself? My name is
Margot Blount I have been lunching at the vicarage, and took the
opportunity of calling upon Miss Farrell before the carriage comes back
for me at five o'clock. I shall be so glad if I can be of any service
to you _en route_."
"Thank you; you are very kind. I am awfully sorry that I should have
shouted at you in that threatening way," said Jack, smiling in his most
fascinating manner, and he could be remarkably fascinating upon
occasion. "The truth is I am a cripple at present with a sprained
ankle, and my--er--attendant has chosen to run away, and leave me tied
up to this tree. I was getting tired and impatient, hence the summons."
"Ah," exclaimed Lady Margot, smiling, "I can guess who the attendant
was! Miss Mollie Farrell, was it not? I have heard so much of her from
Mrs Thornton that I am quite longing to see her. Is she at home this
afternoon--and her sister?"
"I am not sure about Miss Farrell; she went out for a walk after lunch;
but in any case she is sure to return very soon. Miss Mollie is--
somewhere! It is impossible to be more explicit. Probably some of the
servants will be able to find her for you."
"I hope so, but first what can I do for you? Shall I untie this noose
and set you free?"
"Thank you; I should be much obliged. Then, perhaps, you would kindly
ask the butler to send someone to bring me in. I shall hope to see you
later on."
Lady Margot rustled to the back of the chair, and bent over the knotted
handkerchief. It was tied as if the knots were never intended to be
undone, and presently she paused to take off her gloves before attacking
it again, while Jack expostulated and apologised for the trouble he was
giving. Finally, regardless of her light draperies, Lady Margot knelt
down on the ground so as to work more conveniently, and in the midst of
her efforts a saucy face peered suddenly round the corner of a tree a
few yards distant, and Mollie hove into sight, with head thrown back and
arms a-kimbo in would-be threatening attitude. From her position Jack's
broad shoulders hid from view the grey figure behind the chair, and he
guessed as much, and took a wicked delight in the thought.
"Well, Mr Melland, I hope you feel refreshed by your slumbers, and have
awakened in a better frame of mind," cried Mollie loftily. "Will you
say you are sorry, and be taken to have tea on the terrace, or be
obstinate and stay here by your lonesome little self?"
"Neither, thank you; I have been fortunate enough to find a friend in
need, so am no longer dependent on your good offices. Allow me to
introduce you--Miss Mary Farrell--Lady Margot Blount!" said Jack
dramatically.
Tableau!
Mollie's arms dropped to her sides and her face grew scarlet under the
garden-hat. So far from rising to her position as hostess, it was the
visitor who came forward to shake hands and speak the conventional words
of greeting. It was, indeed, a cruel Fate which sent just this visitor
at just this very time! Half a dozen times over during the last
fortnight had Mollie donned one of her grand London dresses and sat
primly in the drawing-room, with intent to receive Lady Margot in style,
and impress her with a sense of her own dignity and importance! And
then to be discovered behaving like a mischievous school-girl, and be
taken at such a disadvantage that she could not even find her voice! It
was too annoying!
"Good-afternoon, Miss Farrell! I was coming up to the house to call
upon you and your sister. I am so happy to have found you at home; and,
do you know, I believe Mr Melland will have to fall back upon your
help, after all. My efforts have not been at all successful. You tie
such good knots!" cried Lady Margot, in a tone of enthusiasm which
seemed to imply that the tying of knots was one of the rarest and most
valuable of accomplishments. Looking into her face, Mollie's
embarrassment died a sudden death, and she found herself smiling back
with a delicious sense of comradeship and understanding.
"Oh, I know the trick. I can undo them in a moment, and then won't you
come and have tea with us on the terrace? It is all ready, and it seems
a sin to be indoors on this lovely day. My sister will be there waiting
for us; she was just coming up the path by the lake as I turned the
corner."
"Oh, that is nice!" said Lady Margot. She looked as if she were about
to ask another question, but checked herself, and strolled along beside
the bath-chair, chatting alternately to Jack and Mollie with an ease and
grace which might have come from long years' acquaintanceship. As they
turned the corner of the terrace she was a step in advance, and Mollie
saw her stop short for the fraction of a moment while the colour rushed
into her pale cheeks. She had surprised a pretty little tableau--a
tableau to which the inhabitants of the Court had grown accustomed
during the last few days--Ruth seated on her chair, her lovely head
drooped shyly forward, Victor leaning impressively towards her, his dark
eyes bent on her face. They were too much engrossed to hear the
approaching footsteps, but the sound of the chair crunching over the
gravel at last aroused their attention, when Victor turned round, and
leapt to his feet, white and breathless.