XII

The result of this missive was that next morning the servants whispered

that someone had been about the house on the preceding evening. Olive

and Barnes sat talking for hours; and one day, unable to keep her

counsel any longer, Olive told her sister what had happened. The letter

that Barnes had taken across the field for her had, she declared,

frightened Edward out of his senses; he had come rushing through the

snow, and had spoken with her for full five minutes under her window. He

loved her to distraction; and the next day she had received a long

letter, full of references to his colonel, explaining how entirely

against his will and desire he had been forced to accept the invitation

to go and shoot at the Lawlers'. Alice listened quietly; as if she

doubted whether Captain Hibbert would have died of consumption or

heartache if Olive had acted otherwise, and then advised her sister

quietly; and, convinced that her duty was to tell her mother everything,

she waited for an occasion to speak. Mr. Barton was passing down the

passage to his studio, Olive was racing upstairs to Barnes, Mrs. Barton

had her hand on the drawing-room door; and she looked round surprised

when she saw that her daughter was following her.

'I want to speak to you, mamma.'

'Come in, dear.'

Alice shut the door behind her.

'How bare and untidy the room looks at this season of the year; really

you and Olive ought to go into the conservatory and see if you can't get

some geraniums.'

'Yes, mamma, I will presently; but it was about Olive that I wanted to

speak,' said Alice, in a strained and anxious way.

'What a bore that girl is with her serious face,' thought Mrs. Barton;

but she laughed coaxingly, and said:

'And what has my grave-faced daughter to say--the learned keeper of the

family's wisdom?'

Even more than Olive's--for they were less sincere--Mrs. Barton's

trivialities jarred, and Alice's ideas had already begun to slip from

her, and feeling keenly the inadequacy of her words, she said:

'Well, mamma, I wanted to ask you if Olive is going to marry Captain

Hibbert?'

It was now for Mrs. Barton to look embarrassed.

'Well, really, I don't know; nothing is arranged--I never thought about

the matter. What could have made you think she was going to marry

Captain Hibbert? In my opinion they aren't at all suited to each other.

Why do you ask me?'

'Because I have heard you speak of Lord Kilcarney as a man you would

like Olive to marry, and, if this be so, I thought I had better tell you

about Captain Hibbert. I think she is very much in love with him.'

'Oh! nonsense; it is only to kill time. A girl must amuse herself

somehow.'

It was on Alice's lips to ask her mother if she thought such conduct

quite right, but, checking herself, she said:

'I am afraid people are talking about it, and that surely is not

desirable.'

'But why do you come telling me these stories?' she said.

'Why, mamma, because I thought it right to do so.'

The word 'right' was unpleasant; but, recovering her temper, which for

years before had never failed her, Mrs. Barton returned to her sweet

little flattering manners.

'Of course, of course, my dear girl; but you do not understand me. What

I mean to say is, Have you any definite reason for supposing that Olive

is in love with Captain Hibbert, and that people are talking about it?'

'I think so, mamma,' said the girl, deceived by this expression of

goodwill. 'You remember when the Scullys came here? Well, Violet was up

in our room, and we were showing her our dresses; the conversation

somehow turned on Captain Hibbert, and when Violet said that she had

seen him that day, as they came along in the carriage, shooting with the

Lawlers, Olive burst out crying and rushed out of the room. It was very

awkward. Violet said she was very sorry and all that, but--'

'Yes, yes, dear; but why was Olive angry at hearing that Captain Hibbert

went out shooting with the Lawlers?'

'Because, it appears, she had previously forbidden him to go there, you

know, on account of Mrs. Lawler.'

'And what happened then?'

'Well, that's the worst of it. I don't mean to say it was all Olive's

fault; I think she must have lost her head a little, for she sent Barnes

over that evening to the Lawlers' with a note, telling Captain Hibbert

that he must come at once and explain. It was eleven o'clock at night,

and they had a long talk through the window.'

Mrs. Barton did not speak for some moments. The peat-fire was falling

into masses of white ash, and she thought vaguely of putting on some

more turf; then her attention was caught by the withering ferns in the

flower-glasses, then by the soaking pasture-lands, then by the spiky

branches of the chestnut-trees swinging against the grey, dead sky.

'But tell me, Alice,' she said at last, 'for of course it is important

that I should know--do you think that Olive is really in love with

Captain Hibbert?'

'She told me, as we were going to bed the other night, mamma, that she

never could care for anyone else; and--and'

'And what, dear?'

'I don't like to betray my sister's confidence,' Alice answered, 'but

I'm sure I had better tell you all: she told me that he had kissed her

many times, and no later than yesterday, in the conservatory.'

'Indeed! you did very well to let me know of this,' said Mrs. Barton,

becoming as earnestly inclined as her daughter Alice. 'I am sorry that

Olive was so foolish; I must speak to her about it. This must not occur

again. I think that if you were to tell her to come down here--'

'Oh no, mamma; Olive would know at once that I had been speaking about

her affairs; you must promise me to make only an indirect use of what I

have told you.'

'Of course--of course, my dear Alice; no one shall ever know what has

passed between us. You can depend upon me. I will not speak to Olive

till I get a favourable opportunity. And now I have to go and see after

the servants. Are you going upstairs?'

On Alice, tense with the importance of the explanation, this dismissal

fell not a little chillingly; but she was glad that she had been able to

induce her mother to consider the matter seriously.

A few minutes passed dreamily, almost unconsciously; Mrs. Barton threw

two sods of turf on the fire, and resumed her thinking. Her first

feeling of resentment against her eldest daughter had vanished; and she

now thought solely of the difficulty she was in, and how she could best

extricate herself from it. 'So Olive was foolish enough to allow Captain

Hibbert to kiss her in the conservatory!' Mrs. Barton murmured to

herself. The morality of the question interested her profoundly. She had

never allowed anyone to kiss her before she was married; and she was

full of pity and presentiment for the future of a young girl who could

thus compromise herself. But in Olive's love for Captain Hibbert Mrs.

Barton was concerned only so far as it affected the labour and time that

would have to be expended in persuading her to cease to care for him.

That this was the right thing to do Mrs. Barton did not for a moment

doubt. Her daughter was a beautiful girl, would probably be the belle of

the season; therefore to allow her, at nineteen, to marry a

thousand-a-year captain would be, Mrs. Barton thought, to prove herself

incapable, if not criminal, in the performance of the most important

duty of her life. Mrs. Barton trembled when she thought of the sending

of the letter: if the story were to get wind in Dublin, it might wreck

her hopes of the marquis. Therefore, to tell Barnes to leave the house

would be fatal. Things must be managed gently, very gently. Olive must

be talked to, how far her heart was engaged in the matter must be found

out, and she must be made to see the folly, the madness of risking her

chance of winning a coronet for the sake of a beggarly thousand-a-year

captain. And, good heavens! the chaperons: what would they say of her,

Mrs. Barton, were such a thing to occur? Mrs. Barton turned from the

thought in horror; and then, out of the soul of the old coquette arose,

full-fledged, the chaperon, the satellite whose light and glory is

dependent on that of the fixed star around which she revolves.

At this moment Olive, her hands filled with ferns, bounced into the

room.

'Oh! here you are, mamma! Alice told me you wanted a few ferns and

flowers to brighten up the room.'

'I hope you haven't got your feet wet, my dear; if you have, you had

better go up at once and change.'

Olive was now more than ever like her father. Her shoulders had grown

wider, and the blonde head and scarlet lips had gained a summer

brilliance and beauty.

'No, I am not wet,' she said, looking down at her boots; 'it isn't

raining; but if it were Alice would send me out all the same.'

'Where is she now?'

'Up in her room reading, I suppose; she never stirs out of it. I thought

when we came home from school the last time that we would be better

friends; but, do you know what I think: Alice is a bit sulky. What do

you think, mamma?'

To talk of Alice, to suggest that she was a little jealous, to explain

the difficulty of the position she occupied, to commiserate and lavish

much pity upon her was, no doubt, a fascinating subject of conversation,

it had burned in the brains of mother and daughter for many months; but,

too wise to compromise herself with her children, Mrs. Barton resisted

the temptation to gratify a vindictiveness that rankled in her heart.

She said:

'Alice has not yet found her _beau cavalier_; we shall see when we are

at the Castle if she will remain faithful to her books. I am afraid that

Miss Alice will then prefer some gay, dashing young officer to her

_Marmion_ and her _Lara_.'

'I should think so, indeed. She says that the only man she cares to

speak to in the county is Dr. Reed, that little frumpy fellow with his

medicines. I can't understand her. I couldn't care for anyone but an

officer.'

This was the chance Mrs. Barton required, and she instantly availed

herself of it. 'The red-coat fever!' she exclaimed, waving her hands.

'There is no one like officers _pour faire passer le temps_'

'Yes, ma!' cried Olive, proud of having understood so much French;

'doesn't time pass quickly with them?'

'It flies, my dear, and they fly away, and then we take up with another.

They are all nice; their profession makes them that.'

'But some are nicer than others; for instance, I am sure they are not

all as handsome as Captain Hibbert.'

'Oh! indeed they are,' said Mrs. Barton, laughing; 'wait until we get to

Dublin; you have no idea what charming men we shall meet there. We shall

find a lord or an earl, or perhaps a marquis, who will give a coroneted

carriage to my beautiful girl to drive in.'

Olive tossed her head, and her mother looked at her admiringly, and

there was love in the sweet brown deceit of the melting eyes; a hard,

worldly affection, but a much warmer one than any Mrs. Barton could feel

for Alice, in whom she saw nothing but failure, and in the end spiritual

spinsterhood. After a pause she said:

'What a splendid match Lord Kilcarney would be, and where would he find

a girl like my Olive to do the honours of his house?'

'Oh! mamma, I never could marry him!'

'And why not, my dear girl?'

'I don't know, he's a silly little fool; besides, I like Captain

Hibbert.'

'Yes, you like Captain Hibbert, so do I; but a girl like you could not

throw herself away on a thousand-a-year captain in the army.'

'And why not, mamma?' said Olive, who had already begun to whimper;

'Captain Hibbert loves me, I know, very dearly, and I like him; he is of

very good family, and he has enough to support me.'

The moment was a supreme one, and Mrs. Barton hesitated to strike and

bring the matter to a head. Would it be better, she asked herself, to

let things go by and use her influence for the future in one direction?

After a brief pause she decided on the former course. She said:

'My dear child, neither your father nor myself could ever consent to see

you throw yourself away on Captain Hibbert. I am afraid you have seen

too much of him, and have been led away into caring for him. But take my

word for it, a girl's love is only _à fleur de peau_. When you have been

to a few of the Castle balls you'll soon forget all about him. Remember,

you are not twenty yet; it would be madness.'

'Oh! mamma, I didn't think you were so cruel!' exclaimed Olive, and she

rushed out of the room.

Mrs. Barton made no reply, but her resolve was rapidly gaining strength

in her mind: Olive's flirtation was to be brought at once to a close.

Captain Hibbert she would admit no more, and the girl was in turn to be

wheedled and coerced.

Nor did Mrs. Barton for a moment doubt that she would succeed; she had

never tasted failure; and she stayed only a moment to regret, for she

was too much a woman of the world to waste time in considering her

mistakes. The needs of the moment were ever present to her, and she now

devoted herself entirely to the task of consoling her daughter. Barnes,

too, was well instructed, and henceforth she spoke only of the earls,

dukes, lords, and princes who were waiting for Olive at the Castle.

In the afternoon Mrs. Barton called Olive into the drawing-room, where

woman was represented as a triumphant creature walking over the heads

and hearts of men. '_Le génie de la femme est la beauté_,' declared

Milord, and again: '_Le coeur de l'homme ne peut servir que de piédestal

pour l'idole.'_

'Oh! Milord, Milord!' said Mrs. Barton. 'So in worshipping us you are

idolaters. I'm ashamed of you.'

'Pardon, pardon, madame: _Devant un amour faux on est idolâtre, mais à

l'autel d'un vrai, on est chrétien_.'

And in such lugubrious gaiety the girl grieved. Captain Hibbert had been

refused admission; he had written, but his letters had been intercepted;

and holding them in her hand Mrs. Barton explained she could not consent

to such a marriage, and continued to dazzle the girl with visions of the

honours that awaited the future Marchioness of Kilcarney. 'An engaged

girl is not noticed at the Castle. You don't know what nice men you'll

meet there; have your fun out first,' were the arguments most frequently

put forward; and, in the excitement of breaking off Olive's engagement,

even the Land League was forgotten. Olive hesitated, but at length

allowed herself to be persuaded to at least try to captivate the marquis

before she honoured the captain with her hand. No sooner said than done.

Mrs. Barton lost not a moment in writing to Captain Hibbert, asking him

to come and see them the following day, if possible, between eleven and

twelve. She wanted to speak to him on a matter which had lately come to

her knowledge, and which had occasioned her a good deal of surprise.