WANTED--A REASON.
The guests at the castle were, as notified in a local paper, Lady
Rachel Jenkins and Mr. Jenkins, the Honourable Mrs. Leach, Lord Anthony
Foster, Miss Pamela Pace, Miss Peggy Lumley, Captain Vansittart, and
Major Mostyn, of the Royal Sedleitz Dragoons.
The Honourable Mrs. Leach was a handsome widow, whose income was much
beneath her requirements. She was acquainted with some colonials, who
had come home in the same ship as Mr. West, and was indebted to them
for an introduction to her present comfortable quarters. She had a
smooth, slow sort of manner, a pair of wonderfully expressive eyes--and
her own little plans. It did not suit her to walk with the guns, or
join in long expeditions, entailing wear and tear of clothes, nerves,
complexion, and tissues. She much preferred to lounge over a novel
in the grounds, having breakfasted in her own room, and would appear
at teatime before the battered, sun-burnt, sun-blistered company, a
miracle of cool grace, in a costume to correspond. And her brilliant
appearance of an evening was a pleasure that was generally looked
forward to. What toilettes!--so rich, so well-chosen and becoming! What
diamonds! (Yes; but these were the best French paste.) She made herself
pleasant to every one, especially to Mr. West, and treated Madeline
almost as if she were some fond elder sister.
Miss Pamela Pace was excessively lively--the soul of the party, always
ready to shoot, ride, or fish; to play billiards, gooseberry, or the
banjo; to dance or to act charades. She had a fund of riddles, games,
and ghost stories. Without being pretty, she was neat, smart, and a
general favourite.
Miss Lumley was her cousin and her foil--tall, fair, statuesque, and
silent. However, she was a capital tennis and billiard player, an
untiring pedestrian; and, as Lady Rachel talked enough for two ordinary
women, she made up for Miss Lumley’s shortcomings.
Lady Rachel was most anxious to get her brother settled--married to a
nice girl, such as Madeline, with a large fortune, and she intended to
forward the match in every way. She lost no opportunity of sounding
Tony’s praises to Madeline, or of plying him with encouragement and
advice. Advice, especially given as such for his own good, he shirked,
as a child does physic. He admired Miss West. She was unaffected;
there was no nonsense about her; she was handsome and ladylike. She
would accept him, of course; and he really might do worse. He did
not particularly want to marry her, or any one; but his income, no
matter how well contrived and cut, was far too small for a man of his
position. And money was a pleasant thing.
Wound up by his anxious sister, Lord Tony had asked for and obtained
Mr. West’s permission to speak to his daughter, and now the only thing
that remained to do was to ask the young lady to ratify the treaty.
They had been nearly three weeks in Ireland, whilst this affair was
quietly brewing.
Madeline had no suspicion of her father’s wishes, or her suitor’s
intentions; such an idea would have filled her--as it subsequently
did--with horror. She liked dancing and tennis, and amusing herself as
much as other young women of her age; but the notion of any one falling
in love with her, in her new and attractive character, never once
entered her brain. Pretty speeches and compliments she laughed at and
turned aside; and it was generally mooted that the Australian heiress
was as cold as the typical iceberg, and had a genius for administering
the most crushing snubs if any one ventured on to the borderland, yea,
the very suburbs of love-making; and it had been hinted that either
there was some pauper lover in the background, or that Miss West was
waiting for a duke--English or foreign--to lay his strawberry leaves at
her feet. She thought Lord Tony extremely plain, and rather stupid; but
he was so easily entertained, and cheery, and helped to make things go
off well, that she was glad he formed one of the party. She had seen so
much of him in London, she knew him better than any of their young men
acquaintances; and he was always so good-tempered, so unassuming, and
so confidential, that she entertained quite a sisterly regard for him.
Of Lord Anthony’s present views and intentions she had no more idea
than her pet Chinese spaniel. If he was _épris_ with any one, it was
with the dashing Pamela, who told his fortune by cards, and played
him even at billiards; and his proposal came upon her without any
preparation, and like a bolt from the blue. The bolt fell in this
fashion, and on a certain sleepy Sunday afternoon.
Sunday at Clane had many empty hours. Mr. West was old-fashioned, and
set his face against shooting, tennis, billiards, or even that curate’s
own game--croquet. The hours after lunch were spent in smoking,
sleeping, novel-reading, devouring fruit in the big garden, or sitting
under the lime-trees. It was thus that Lord Anthony found Madeline,
surveying the misty haze of a hot August afternoon with a pair of
abstracted eyes. Mr. West had given him a hint of her whereabouts, and
that here was the hour, and he was the man!
“She is a cold, undemonstrative, distant sort of girl,” he explained.
“She has never had a fancy, that I know of” (no, certainly as yet, he
had not known of it). “She likes you, I am sure; it will be all plain
sailing.” And, thus encouraged, the suitor figuratively put to sea.
Madeline sat alone under the lime-trees in a low wicker chair, having
been deserted by Lady Rachel, who had gone to have a comfortable snooze
ere teatime.
It was a drowsy afternoon; the bees buzzed lazily over a bed of
mignonette, which sent its fragrance far and near. Madeline’s book lay
neglected in her lap. Her thoughts were far from it and Clane; they
were with a certain hard-working barrister in London, who had written
her a very rough, outspoken letter. Poor Laurence! Why could he not
wait? Why could he not have patience? He was beginning to get on so
well. She had seen a long review of one of his articles in _Tooth and
Nail_. He was becoming quite a literary celebrity.
And, once he was up the ladder, even a few rungs, she would not feel
the change so bitter, supposing her father was furious and implacable.
Of course it would be a change! And she sighed as she smoothed out her
cambric gown--which had cost eighteen guineas--with a pretty, delicate
hand, laden with magnificent rings. Could it be possible that those
soft white hands had ever blackened grates and made beds and washed up
plates? Oh, such greasy plates and dishes!
“You seem to be in a day-dream, Miss West,” said Lord Anthony, as he
approached, “and all the rest of the folk have gone to sleep.”
“Have they?” she exclaimed. “Well, one cannot wonder! It is a broiling
afternoon, and, after that long sermon, you must make allowances.”
“Oh, I’m always making allowances. I’m an easy-going sort of fellow,
you know,” and he cast himself into a well-cushioned chair. “I want to
have a little talk with you.” Hitching this chair nearer he added, “May
I?”
“Why, of course! But are we in a talking humour? Isn’t it rather hot?
Pray don’t bore yourself to entertain me! I can always amuse myself,”
and she slowly agitated her great green fan.
“Yes; I suppose you can say ‘My mind to me a kingdom is’?” he asked,
with a smile.
“I think I can,” she answered languidly.
“I wish _I_ could say as much. My mind is a poor, barren, unpopulated
country. I should like to take a trip into your territory, and
share your pleasant thoughts, Miss West!” then suddenly spurred by a
recollection of a solemn promise to his sister, and that he was wasting
a golden opportunity, “I have something important to say to you.”
“To say to _me_?” she echoed, with raised brows. “What can it be? What
makes you look so strange? You are not feeling ill, are you?”
“Ill! No; but my mind is ill at ease. Can you not form an idea why?”
leaning forward as he spoke, and looking straight into her eyes.
His look was an illumination to Madeline. But as yet she did not think
of herself; she mentally glanced at lively Pamela, with her high
spirits and low stature. She had seen her present companion carry his
rather boisterous attentions to that young lady’s shrine. She amused
him, and his loud, long laugh often resounded in her neighbourhood. He
was come to ask for her good offices; but she did not suppose that Miss
Pam would be unusually difficult to win.
“Oh, I think I have an idea now,” she murmured, with a significant
smile. “I have guessed.”
“You have?” he replied, in a tone of great relief. “And--and, may I
venture to hope?”
“I really cannot tell you. But I see no reason why you should not,” she
returned reassuringly.
“Madeline”--now moving his chair a whole foot nearer, and suddenly
taking her hand--“you have made me the happiest of men!”
“I don’t think I quite understand you,” she replied, struggling to
withdraw her fingers, and feeling desperately uncomfortable.
“Then I must speak out more plainly. I want you to promise to be my
wife.”
For a second she stared at him as if she could not credit her ears.
Then she suddenly wrenched her fingers away, sprang to her feet, and
stood facing him with crimson cheeks.
“What do you mean? Are you--mad?” she asked sharply.
“Mad?--no!” replied her suitor, both amazed and affronted. “One would
think I was a dangerous lunatic, the way you behave. I am quite sane,
and in deadly earnest. I have your father’s good wishes, Rachel’s good
wishes----”
“My father’s good wishes!” she interrupted, her mind in a perfect
tumult at this totally unlooked-for dilemma.
“What is the matter with you, Miss West? Why are you so upset and
agitated? Am I so totally unworthy? Is there anything so extravagantly
strange in my wishing to marry you?”
“Oh no, no!”--endeavouring to control her feelings, and not give
herself away. “But--but----” A scarlet wave rushed into her cheeks. But
what would Laurence say?
“Is it to be ‘Yes’ or ‘No’?” he pleaded.
She simply shook her head, and drew back a step or two.
He had never been so near to loving this tall pretty girl, standing
under the lime-trees with flushed, averted face, as now, when she shook
her head.
“At least you will give me _reason_,” he demanded, rather sulkily.
As the words left his lips he saw an odd change pass across her face,
an expression that he could not understand. It was a look half of
fear, half of contemptuous derision.
“There is no reason,” she answered quietly, “beyond the usual one in a
similar case. I do not wish to marry you.”
“And why?” he asked, after an appreciable pause.
“Well, really, I have never thought about you, Lord Anthony, but as
a pleasant acquaintance. As an acquaintance I like you very much,”
she answered, with astounding calmness. “An acquaintance--but nothing
more.” And she turned to take up her parasol.
Opposition always roused Lord Anthony; it acted as a spur. In a short
five minutes he saw everything from his sister’s point of view, and had
suddenly developed a passion for Miss West.
“Every marriage begins by an acquaintance. Perhaps in time,” he
urged--“in a few short months, my dearest Madeline----”
“I am not your ‘dearest Madeline,’ Lord Anthony,” she interrupted
quickly. “Pray consider the subject closed once for all; and remember,
for the future, that I am Miss West.”
She was getting angry with his persistency. He was getting angry with
her persistency.
There ensued a long silence, unbroken by speech. And at last he said--
“There is some other fellow, of course. You are engaged already.”
“I am not. Oh, Pamela, I did not see you”--as that vivacious young lady
suddenly came upon the scene with a strong escort of dogs.
From her window she had noted the conference, and had hastily descended
in order to discover what it might portend. A proposal! Well, if he
had proposed, he had _not_ been accepted, she remarked to herself
complacently.
They both looked confused and ill at ease. Evidently they had been
quarrelling. Lord Anthony was ridiculously red, and Madeline was white
as a sheet.
“How delightfully cool and comfortable you two look!” she mendaciously
ejaculated, sinking into Madeline’s chair with a gesture of exhaustion.
“This is quite the nicest place, under these motherly old trees. I’ve
been trying to sleep, but it did not come off. I was driven quite
frantic by a diabolical bluebottle, that would not keep away from my
face.”
“I’m sure I don’t wonder,” said Lord Anthony, who was recovering his
good temper, which was never lost for long.
“And so I came out. You will have tea here, Maddie, won’t you, like a
duck?”
“I’m not sure that ducks care for tea,” rejoined Madeline. “Their
weakness is snails. But I’ll run in and order it. It must be after
five.” And in another minute her tall white figure was half-way to the
castle, and Miss Pamela and Lord Anthony were alone.
Both were eager to question the other in a delicate, roundabout way.
Strange to say, the man got out his query first. Throwing himself once
more into a chair, and crossing his legs, he said--
“Girls know girls and their affairs, as men know men, and are up to
their little games. Now, you saw a lot of Miss West in town. Same
dressmaker, same dentist, same bootmaker. Look here, now; I want to
know something.” And he bent over and gazed into Miss Pam’s pale
little dancing eyes.
“I am quite at your service,” she answered smilingly. “Her waist is
twenty inches. She takes a longer skirt than you would think. She has
no false teeth, and only a little stuffing in one back molar. Her size
in shoes is fours.”
“Bosh! What do I care about her teeth and her shoes? I want to
know--and I’ll do as much for you some day--if Miss West has any
hanger-on--any lover loafing round? Of course I know she had heaps of
Johnnies who admired her. But did she seem sweet on them? ‘Lookers-on
see most of the game.’”
“Yes, when there is any game to see,” retorted the young lady. “In this
case there was none. Or, if there was, it was double dummy.”
“No one?” he said incredulously.
“No one,” she answered. “She talks like an old grandmother, who has
been through every phase of life; talks in the abstract, of course. She
has never, as far as I know, and in the language of romance, ‘smiled on
any suitor.’”
“Most extraordinary!” muttered Lord Anthony. “A new woman who bars
men. However, there is always the one exception; and, by George”--to
himself--“I’ll have another try!”