Breathe no love to me,
I will give none of mine.
It was late in the evening of the Tuesday succeeding the skating
expedition to Ayclough when Captain Chancellor reached Winsley Grange,
so late that the only person awake to receive him was a sleepy footman
charged with his mistress's apologies for not having sat up to welcome
her brother in person. Beauchamp received the apologies with
philosophy, for he was not sorry to defer seeing Mrs Eyrecourt till the
next day; he was tired and not quite as comfortable and complacent as
usual, and Gertrude's eyes were dreadfully keen. Then there was Roma
too. He had been preparing himself to meet them both, but it was a
relief to find he should have a few hours to himself first; he wanted to
think things over a little, quietly; he wanted quite thoroughly to
satisfy himself of the truth of what he had many times already repeated
to himself--that he had certainly acted for the best.
Yes, there could be no doubt that he had done so, he decided, as he sat
with his pipe by the fire, after declining the sleepy footman's offers
of "getting him anything"--he had dined in town on his way--he was very
well out of it; it wasn't every man that would have had the strength of
mind to cut it short decisively just as a crisis was approaching, for,
no doubt, he confessed to himself he _had_ been hit, just the least in
the world. She, too, would very soon be all right again, poor little
soul; and by some curious code of morality of his own, the reflection
that the tools with which he had been playing had scratched _him_,
though it might be but slightly, greatly lessened the discomfort of the
half-acknowledged suspicion that they had cut _her_ deeply.
Late as it was, however, he felt he should sleep better if he first
wrote a few civil words to her father and to Frank Thurston of apology
for, or rather explanation of, his abrupt departure. It must have
looked odd, he feared, but he could easily make it all right. Besides,
he had told Thurston he should be leaving soon; "family arrangements"
had only hastened his movements by a few days; anything was better than
the risk of a formal leave-taking, and Gertrude's letter had just come
in the nick of time. So he wrote his notes, and calmly turned the last
page of this short chapter in his history, and went to bed believing or
imagining that he believed that the little "affaire" was well over, and
no one the worse, no results left, as Roma had indirectly prophesied,
that would in the least interfere with his old dream of winning _her_--
no results, at least, that she need ever discover, or that would be
lasting. He would be quite himself again in a day or two; to-night he
felt a little out of sorts, and somehow the old dream was hardly as
attractive as usual. No wonder, he had not seen Roma for a good while,
and she had bothered him a little the last time they met, and he hated
being bothered; besides, is it not human nature to have temporary
misgivings as to the excellence of the trellised grapes when the
sweetest of strawberries within one's easy grasp have been a familiar
sight?
When Beauchamp woke in the morning he felt already a different man. His
spirits had recovered themselves amazingly. It was a bright day for one
thing, and it was pleasant to glance lazily round the comfortable,
familiar room, and feel he was at home again; to catch sight out of the
window of the clear blue sky and the beautiful Winsley trees--beautiful
even in winter--instead of leaden Wareborough clouds and grim
Wareborough roofs. He was really attached to Winsley, and had reason
for being so, for to him and his sister, if not the Grange itself, at
least its immediate neighbourhood had always seemed home.
The root of the Chancellor family was to be found in quite another part
of the country, but the personal associations of Beauchamp and Mrs
Eyrecourt were all connected with Winsley. When they were little
children their father had succeeded to the adjoining tiny little
property of Winsedge, and there they had lived till, shortly before his
death, Winsedge was sold to Mr Eyrecourt of the Grange. And before the
young Chancellors had had time to realise that their connection with the
neighbourhood was at an end, Gertrude's marriage to their former lord of
the manor riveted it again more strongly than before, for the premature
death of their mother, whose life had been a slow martyrdom of vain
devotion to a selfish and extravagant husband, soon left Beauchamp,
still a boy, with no near friend but his elder sister--no home but hers.
And Mrs Eyrecourt had been very kind to her brother, and, while he
lived, had influenced her husband to be the same, winning his goodwill
towards Beauchamp in part, perhaps, by that which she herself showed to
his step-sister, Roma, when she in turn came to be left motherless and
homeless.
Winsley Grange was a thoroughly and really "desirable residence." A
long, low, thick-walled, deep-windowed house of no particular
architecture, sufficiently picturesque, with its gable ends and
lattices, not to disappoint the expectations suggested by its name; old
enough for respectability, but not for inconvenience; not too large for
the size of the property, nor too grand to be comfortable. To these
advantages it united that of a charming situation in the prettiest part
of a pretty county, where the society, though undeniably "good," was--
thanks probably to the comparatively near neighbourhood of the capital--
but very slightly tainted by that spirit of stupid and indiscriminating
exclusiveness so liable to flourish among the lords of the soil in more
remote and isolated districts.
So it was--considering all things--only natural that Captain Chancellor
should like his sister and his sister's house, and be always glad to
return to them after absence.
"What a bore these people are coming to-day," he thought to himself, as
he went downstairs. "We might have had a comfortable little time to
ourselves; that is to say, if I find both Gertrude and Roma in a good
humour."
They were both in very good humour, as he discovered almost immediately
he entered the breakfast-room. Mrs Eyrecourt received him with even
more than her usual cordiality; so warmly, indeed, as to give rise to a
slight suspicion in his mind of there being "something in the wind."
Roma's manner was cheerful and hearty--so free, apparently, from the
slightest tinge of constraint or self-consciousness, that Beauchamp felt
puzzled and not altogether pleased, but he took good care to conceal his
incipient annoyance, and comported himself as faultlessly and serenely
as ever.
"It was very good of you, Beauchamp, to come off so quickly," said his
sister. "I hardly expected you would be able to manage it. How did you
do about your leave?"
"Oh, quite easily," he replied. "I might have had it, you know, since
the New-year if I had liked." Here he surprised a look of curiosity on
Roma's part--a look of "I thought as much," too, it seemed to him. It
hardly suited him now for her to suspect any rival attraction at
Wareborough. Lightly as he treated the remembrance of Eugenia, the idea
of making use of her as he had once intended had somehow grown
distasteful to him, so he went on quietly with his answer to his sister:
"I have been so long away from the regiment, I wanted to be as
good-natured as I could, and my only taking half my leave was a
convenience to one or two of them. I meant, any way, to have come here
next week, but it suited me quite as well to come sooner. I got your
letter on Saturday evening, and this is only Wednesday. I did not lose
much time, did I?"
"No, indeed," responded Mrs Eyrecourt, very graciously. "I can't tell
you how glad I was to find you were coming. It is so very much nicer to
have you here when the Chancellors come, particularly as they are our
own relations, you know, and they would have been away by next week."
"I can't make out what brings them here, or where you came across them.
You condescended to no explanations in your letter--you only said the
Halswood Chancellors were coming. I had to think for some time before I
could remember anything about them. I had almost forgotten that there
was such a place as Halswood," said Beauchamp.
"I had no idea myself of their coming, till the day I wrote to you,"
replied Gertrude. "You see I wrote to Herbert Chancellor when I saw the
announcement of the grandfather's death, to con--"
"Gratulate him," suggested Roma, for her sister-in-law had hesitated a
little over her condolences.
"I wrote to him," continued Mrs Eyrecourt, without condescending to
notice the interruption, "and of course I said if ever they were in our
neighbourhood I should be very much pleased to see them here. Mr
Chancellor answered very civilly, and the other day I accidentally heard
they were staying at Ferrivale, not twenty miles from here, so I wrote
again, making my general invitation a special one, and they accepted it
at once. That's the whole story. You will see them for yourself this
afternoon."
"But who are `they'?" cross-questioned her brother. "Mr Chancellor and
his wife and all the little Chancellors?"
"There are no little Chancellors. That is to say, only one girl of
fourteen or so, besides the eldest daughter, who is out, and the son--
there is only one, I thought there were two--who is at Eton," replied
Mrs Eyrecourt.
"Oh, indeed; so it is only Herbert and his wife who are coming," said
Beauchamp, as if he now knew all about it, for he had got scent at last,
and wished to provoke his sister into letting him see all that was in
her mind.
"Of course not, Beauchamp; how stupid you are!" exclaimed Gertrude.
"Why should Herbert and his wife go about the country paying visits, and
leave their grown-up daughter at home? She is past eighteen, and out, I
told you. And very pretty," she added, injudiciously.
"Oh, indeed, I understand now," answered Beauchamp, meekly, and looking
across the table, the expression in Roma's eyes told him that she knew
he now _did_ understand.
"Poor dear Gertrude! So _that_ is why I was sent for in such a hurry,"
he observed, when, breakfast being over, Roma and he were left by
themselves for a short time. "Couldn't you make her comprehend, Roma,
that she might save herself the trouble?"
Miss Eyrecourt was standing by the window, looking over her letters.
She seemed perfectly cool and comfortable, in no way embarrassed by
finding herself, for the first time for some months, alone with her
would-be lover. She looked up at him when he spoke to her, and answered
quietly and deliberately--
"No, Beauchamp, I certainly could not do anything of the kind. If you
have anything to say to Gertrude, you must say it yourself. I am not
going to come between you two in any way. I don't want to meddle in
your affairs at all; no advice of mine is likely to do good. Now,
Beauchamp," she went on, in a different tone, half remonstrating, half
coaxing, "do let us be nice and comfortable together. And do try not to
vex Gertrude, that's a good boy. If her plans don't please you, there
is time enough to say so, and you need not vex her by seeming determined
to thwart her beforehand. Those sorts of schemes generally right
themselves--very likely Addie Chancellor is already out of your reach--
she _it_ pretty, I have seen her. There, now, after all, I have begun
advising and warning you, and I vowed I would never do so again."
She looked very handsome this morning. She was, as usual, beautifully
dressed, and it was some time since Beauchamp had been in the company of
a perfectly attired, perfectly well-bred, self-possessed woman of Roma's
order. Beside her, Eugenia Laurence, lovely as she was, rose to his
mind's eye as an unformed child. He was in a mood to be very sensitive
to Miss Eyrecourt's particular attractions, and something in her manner
impressed him pleasantly. She seemed softer and less satirical than her
wont. There was a half playfulness, a coaxingness in her way of
speaking to him which, in his opinion, became her marvellously.
"And why shouldn't you advise and warn me, Roma?" he asked, softly,
going a little nearer her. "You know very well there is no, one in the
world I should take advice from half so willingly. Why will you always
misunderstand me?"
His tone was growing dangerously tender.
"Oh, silly Beauchamp!" said Roma to herself. Then looking up, "I am
glad to hear it," she observed, rather coldly. "Your have thoroughly
acted up to the last piece of advice I gave you, have you not? You
remember what it was--that night at the Dalrymples?"
As she spoke, Beauchamp, though looking down, felt conscious that her
keen dark eyes were regarding him searchingly. He could not pretend not
to understand her, little as he had been prepared for this embarrassing
cross-examination, and to his intense annoyance he felt himself slightly
change colour. It was very slightly, so slightly that no other eyes
would have perceived it, but looking up again boldly to brave out this
home-thrust, the ready words died on his lips; he saw that Roma was
watching him with an expression not very unlike contempt.
"That Mrs Dalrymple has been writing to her, and she wants to show me
she won't stand it," thought Beauchamp. He was quite mistaken. Roma
knew very little of his life at Wareborough, and, selfishly speaking,
cared very little with whom, or to what extent, he chose to flirt. But
she did care about the possibly serious results to himself, his sister,
and, even indirectly, to herself, of his folly. And she had never been
able to forget the bright, sweet face of Eugenia Laurence. She had,
however, promised Gertrude to be most discreet in her conduct to
Beauchamp. She had no wish to quarrel with him. She was resolved
cautiously to steer clear of any sort of "scene." There was no saying
in what contradictory way an explanation with her might affect him, and
her great desire was that, without any such crisis, he should gradually
arrive at a tacit understanding of her complete indifference.
"Not that I ever have believed, or ever shall believe, he really cares
about me," she had said to her sister-in-law. "It is half of it
contradiction, and the other half the accident of our having been so
often thrown together when he had no better occupation. Beauchamp would
not be Beauchamp if he had not some little affair on hand, and I daresay
I am the only woman who has never in the least appreciated his
attentions."
She agreed with Mrs Eyrecourt, that if he would but have the sense to
take a fancy to Adelaide Chancellor, it would be the best thing he could
do; and she felt not a little provoked with Gertrude for showing her
cards so plainly. It could not be helped, however, and now she felt
conscious that she too had been foolish in approaching the subject of
Eugenia.
"Whatever he has been doing, I cannot make it any better," she thought,
"and I may make it worse."
So, though she was certain that he perfectly understood to what she
referred, she expressed no incredulity when he calmly assured her he did
not know to what special piece of advice she was alluding.
"Very well. If you have forgotten it so quickly, we will hope that in
this case the cap didn't fit," she said, lightly.
And then she went on talking about other things with so evident a
determination to avoid all subjects of close personal interest, that
Beauchamp could not but follow her lead. And she made herself so
pleasant that there was no excuse for his growing sulky. He said to
himself she was perverse and tiresome--very few fellows would put up
with it as he did, and so on; but in his inmost heart he was not sorry
that just at present no love-making seemed to be expected of him; for,
after all, he did not feel quite as much inclined for it as usual. More
than once during the day his spirits seemed suddenly to desert him. He
would find his thoughts straying to the dull house in the outskirts of
Wareborough, where, ignore it as he would, he knew full well a girlish
heart was growing heavy at his unwonted absence.
"Her father will get my note to-morrow," he reflected; "and then she
won't expect me any more, and she will soon be all right. Besides, I
prepared her for it on Saturday, and she did not seem much surprised.
There is nothing to bother about. I have acted for the best, only she
is such a queer sort of girl--takes things to heart so. And Roma has
evidently not forgotten about her."
Very evidently Roma had not forgotten about her. Two or three times in
the course of the day, she surprised Beauchamp in an absent fit, and
disgusted him greatly by inquiring what he was thinking about, what was
the matter, what had become of his good spirits, etc, etc, so that by
the afternoon, Captain Chancellor had come to feel almost glad that
their family party was to be augmented by the expected guests.
As the hour drew near at which the Chancellors were to arrive, Mrs
Eyrecourt got quite into a flutter of excitement. Such a state of
things was very unusual with her, well accustomed as she was to society
and its usages. Beauchamp felt amused. "It is all on my account, I
fear, that poor Gertrude is in such a fuss. She is only laying up
disappointment for herself. I do wish she would leave me to manage my
own affairs," he thought to himself, though to please her he hung about
the house idle all the afternoon, in case of the Halswood party possibly
appearing before their time. Gertrude's excitement was not only on his
account, keenly anxious though she was that he and Adelaide Chancellor
should impress each other agreeably; there was to Mrs Eyrecourt a
peculiar and not unnatural feeling of gratification in receiving as her
guests for the first time the head of the family--Mr Chancellor of
Halswood himself--and his belongings. For, undoubted as was the
position of the Winsley Eyrecourts in their own county and among their
own set, that of the owner of Halswood was several pegs higher in the
social scale, and Herbert Chancellor had more reason than many people
for thinking himself rather a big man. But this second cause of his
sister's "fuss," Beauchamp's less excitable, more individually selfish
nature neither suspected nor would have sympathised with. It was all
very well to "call cousins" with the Halswood people; but Gertrude
sometimes bothered herself unnecessarily. In her place, Beauchamp said
to himself, he certainly would not have gone out of his way to invite
these strangers to take up their abode with them for a whole week. He
felt bored even in anticipation. He hoped certainly Roma's attention
would be distracted from teasing him with those silly questions of hers,
but he more than half wished he was back at Wareborough.
Things improved, however, to some extent, when the visitors arrived.
Mr Chancellor proved to be a pleasant looking, pleasant feeling man, a
little too palpably prosperous perhaps, but with sufficient tact and
refinement to steer clear of being offensively so; Mrs Chancellor--a
still handsome woman, large and fair and languid, was several degrees
more a fine lady, than her husband was a fine gentleman, but for this
there was the excuse of her having been an heiress, and possessed of a
property which she thought far more of than of twenty Halswoods, in days
when Herbert had been landless and, comparatively speaking, penniless.
And Adelaide, the daughter of this fortunate pair, amiable, pretty,
commonplace and silly, was, on the whole, however, rather better than
might have been expected. All three were evidently prepared to be
pleased, and were graciousness itself to their cousins, and quite
sufficiently civil to Miss Eyrecourt, who smiled to herself at the
thought of Beauchamp's desperate position, should it actually prove the
case that Gertrude's scheme was tacitly approved of by the authorities
on the other side also.
"It almost looks like it," she thought, "yet why the Chancellors should
wish it, I hardly understand."
She was not long left in the dark. The party at dinner this first day
consisted only of themselves and the three visitors. Captain
Chancellor, who had so far shown plainly enough to his sister and Roma,
a determination to bestow none of his attentions on Adelaide, talked
principally to her mother, and with such good effect that when the
ladies retired to the drawing-room, the great lady quite forgot her
languor in enthusiastic praise of Beauchamp's charms.
"It is so odd we have never met before," she remarked, "for Beauchamp--I
must call you both by your Christian names, my dear Gertrude--Beauchamp
tells me he has often been staying within a few miles of Wylingham. He
knows the Prudhoe-Bettertons, of Prudhoe Castle, I find; charming
people. He must not treat us so shabbily when he is next in our
neighbourhood. By September, at latest, we shall be settled at home
again, and I shall count upon your coming to us--I shall, positively.
Beauchamp says he has half promised the Bettertons a few days about
then."
"But we shall be at Halswood then, mamma," said Adelaide.
"Oh, nonsense, my dear. We shall certainly not be there before
Christmas; at least, I devoutly hope not. Halswood is all very well in
its way, but at present it is really uninhabitable. You never saw
anything so frightful as the state of the house, my dear Gertrude. It
wants refurnishing from top to bottom. I _should_ like you to see
Wylingham."
Depreciation of Halswood rather jarred on Mrs Eyrecourt's Chancellor
loyalty. But there was no time for her guest to observe any hesitation
in her reply, for just then a loud squeal from the other end of the room
made all the ladies jump, and effectually distracted Mrs Chancellor's
attention.
"Floss, you naughty child, what are you screaming in that dreadful way
for? Why are you not in bed? I told you to run upstairs as soon as we
came out of the dining-room? What _is_ the matter?" exclaimed Gertrude,
at no loss to pitch upon the invisible offender.
There was no answer for a minute. Then, a ball consisting of white
muslin, blue ribbons, shaggy hair and bare legs, seemed to roll out from
under a sofa into the middles of the room, when it shook itself into
form, and stood erect, red-faced and defiant.
"Quin pulled my hair," was all the explanation it vouchsafed.
Quintin came forward from behind the curtains to answer for himself.
"Well, and if I did, I'd like to know who bit and scratched and kicked?"
he exclaimed, wrathfully.
"'Cos you said you'd tell I was hiding in the curtains; tell-tale boy,"
returned Floss, with supreme contempt.
"And why were you hiding in the curtains? Why didn't you go up to bed
when I sent you?" demanded her mother.
"Quin said there was a bear behind the glass door in the hall, and I was
fwightened it would eat me," replied Floss, her defiance subsiding.
"I only said bears eat naughty children. It says so in the Bible," said
Quin, virtuously.
Adelaide began to laugh.
"How silly you are!" thought Roma, regretfully. "I fear Beauchamp will
soon be bored by you." But she liked the girl better when she rose from
her seat, and asked Gertrude if she might not convoy poor Floss across
the dreaded hall. It was more than Roma would have troubled herself to
do: she looked upon all children as necessary evils, and considered her
niece a peculiarly aggravated form of the infliction.
Gertrude was profuse in her thanks, but Floss hung back.
"I don't like you," she said calmly, looking up into Miss Chancellor's
face. "You're too fat, and you've got stawey eyes."
Adelaide laughed again, but this time more faintly. An ominous frown
darkened Mrs Eyrecourt's face.
"You naughty, naughty, rude child," she began, sternly. Quintin's
better feelings were aroused.
"I'll take her upstairs, mamma. Come, Floss," and, already frightened
at her own audacity, the cross-grained little mortal clutched at her
brother's hand, and the two left the room together. Upstairs Quin read
Floss a lecture on the enormity of her offence. Overcome by his
goodness in escorting her to the nursery, she hugged him vehemently--
getting into fresh disgrace for crushing his collar; but maintained
stoutly that "the new young lady wasn't nice or pretty at all, not the
least tiny bit."
"What a nice boy Quintin is, and so handsome," began Miss Chancellor,
gushingly.
"Yes," said Roma, to whom the remark was addressed; "he's not a bad
child, as children go. I detest children."
Adelaide looked shocked.
"_Do_ you?" she exclaimed. "Well, of course," she went on, as if
desirous of modifying her evident disapproval, "I daresay it makes a
difference when one has not had younger brothers and sisters."
"Do you love yours so much?" inquired Roma. She felt a lazy pleasure in
drawing out this model young lady a little.
"_Of course_," replied Miss Chancellor; "Victoria is much younger than
I, you know, but we are great friends. I don't think there is anything
she looks forward to as much as to being my bridesmaid. She is rather
dark, so I have promised her she shall wear rose colour, or pink, if it
is in summer."
Roma looked astonished. "I didn't know," she began, "I had not heard of
anything being fixed about your marriage."
Adelaide burst out laughing. "Fixed," she repeated, "of course, not.
But I am sure to be married some time or other. Don't you think it is
great fun to think about what you will choose for yourself and your
bridesmaids to wear? I have decided half-a-dozen times at least."
Roma confessed that the subject was one that had not hitherto much
occupied her thoughts.
"You have a brother too, have you not?" she inquired, by way of making
conversation.
"Oh, yes, Roger," replied Adelaide. "He comes next to me. He is
sixteen, but, poor boy, he is so dreadfully delicate. When he was a
little child they never thought he could live, and even now we often
think he won't grow up. It is very unfortunate, isn't it, when one
thinks of Wylingham and all mamma's property, though of course it would
come to me--the money I mean. Wylingham would go to a distant cousin;
so stupid of my grandfather to leave it so, wasn't it?"
Her remarks were made with the utmost _naivete_, in perfect
unconsciousness apparently that they could sound heartless.
"And Halswood?" said Roma, repressing the disagreeable sensation left by
the girl's words.
"Oh, Halswood doesn't seem to matter so much," she replied. "Papa will
have it all his life any way, and there are Chancellors after him.
Your--what is he to you?--your cousin?--Captain Chancellor I mean, comes
next after Roger."
"_Does_ he?" exclaimed Roma in astonishment. Then she grew very silent;
for a few minutes she did not distinguish the sense of Adelaide's
prattle, her mind was busy with other matters. For one thing, the
Chancellors' policy was now plain to her. Would they succeed? To
herself personally she felt that Beauchamp's possible heirship could
never make any difference; rich or poor, he could never be more to her
than he was. But as for Gertrude--yes, her views would probably undergo
a complete change were such a state of things to come to pass.
"She would like me, I daresay, as well or better than any one else for
his wife if he were rich, or certain to be so," thought Roma. "But,
after all, I strongly suspect the chances are that Beauchamp will marry
to please himself and no one else, and perhaps find in the end that he
has not even done that."