AN INTERRUPTED INTERVIEW
The last set had been played, tennis prizes been distributed amid much
clapping and applause, performers and spectators had dispersed, the
great tennis week was over!
Nancy, who felt mentally and bodily fatigued, contrived to escape
from her friends, to enjoy a short rest, and breathing time, before
the evening gaieties set in; and by devious and cunning short cuts,
made her way to a favourite seat, at the end of the least frequented
Pergola. Here for once, she found herself out of the public eye,--the
only eyes that rested upon her, were those of her companion, Bob, the
brown spaniel,--nephew to the dogs at Maynesfort. Bob detested tennis,
and had followed his mistress under the fond delusion that she was
about to take him for a nice run by the river; alas! no, she threw
herself down on a hard rustic bench, and heaved a long sigh. Poor
disappointed Bob was in complete sympathy with this frame of mind, and
inclined to sigh too.
All day long, Nancy had borne the fierce light, that beats on a pretty
popular girl,--the most prominent figure in a society gathering;
as deputy hostess, tennis competitor, adviser, referee, arbitress
in little half-playful disputes, with an eye to the guests in the
refreshment tents, and in perpetual demand, here, there, and everywhere.
Mrs. De Wolfe had abdicated and taken her ease, and an attitude of
serene detachment, seated among her contemporaries, and intimates;
all little anxieties and worries, were handed over to her vice-reine,
and although she had the gift of social grace, youth, and energy,
Nancy found the sceptre as heavy as lead! Here was Mrs. Harper looking
alarmingly red and explosive, because no one had escorted her to tea,
and there was Lizzie Stevens on the verge of tears, because the umpire
had given her two faults; Mrs. Fitzhammond had lost a dear old silver
brooch, she had had since she was a school-girl, and was unpleasantly
querulous, injured, and fussy; whilst Sutton the butler had informed
poor Nancy in a hollow whisper, that "the ice was running out!"
Well, it was all over at last! and had been a surprising success;
but the deputy hostess felt completely exhausted, as she took off
her hat, and closed her eyes. The previous night, she had lain awake
for many hours, meditating on Mrs. Hicks' unexpected revelation. It
seemed to her, that she was approaching a crisis in her life: looking
into her own heart, she saw Derek Mayne; yes, Derek, and no one else.
Far removed from the tragedy of former associations, in another
hemisphere, and among other surroundings, she realized his personal
attraction, his upright character, unfailing good humour,--and for a
man,--surprising unselfishness!
She had noticed his thoughtful attention to his uncle; his pleasant
ways to children, and to nobodies,--it was he, who had relieved her of
Mrs. Harper, and carried off that swelling matron, to enjoy ices, and
conversation (whilst Dudley Villars lay prone on the grass, at the feet
of the county's duchess, entertaining her with scraps of highly-spiced
scandal!). She recalled to mind, what a favourite he had been with her
father; how he had given her to him when on his deathbed; later how
fiercely she had thrust him aside, and fled. Yes! there was no doubt,
that _she_ was the offender; and it was for her, to venture the first
advance--an advance bristling with difficulties and dangers. If she
made an overture and was repulsed--how--how, could she ever hold up her
head again? on the other hand, if she made no sign, and he went away,
it would be something whispered,--for--_ever_.
During the last few days she and Derek had been on easier terms;
naturally the tournament had thrown them together; more than once, he
had addressed her as "Nancy," and more than once, she had surprised
him surveying her with an expression of keen attention, and something
else--"What?" What it was she could not analyse; interest, yes, perhaps
interest; at any rate, the glance was neither cynical nor scornful!
Possibly it might mean, that he wished to speak to her, that--oh no,
never by word or look, had he intimated that he looked for any change
in their relations; if she was to say, or do anything that would count;
if she was to venture to break the ice, and her heart quailed at the
mere idea of such an undertaking,--it must be _soon_. On Saturday,
he was leaving the Court, and from what she could gather, shortly
returning to India; so it was a case of now, or never! How could she
begin?--she had not the gracious art of approaching the unapproachable.
As she sat meditating, and by no means fancy free, the thumping of
Bob's tail announced his welcome to someone; and opening her eyes, she
beheld the subject of her thoughts, rapidly approaching along the turf
walk. Was she asleep? or was his appearance the result of some strange
telepathy?
How good-looking he was! a lover to gladden the eyes of any girl. His
flannels set off an admirable well-knit figure--the touch of scarlet in
his blazer, was eminently becoming to his dark hair and eyes; in one
hand he swung a bat, and was apparently pressed for time.
"Well, what is it?" he inquired, as he came within earshot.
"I'm sure I don't know!" she answered, now sitting erect.
"But Mrs. Hicks told me to hurry here at once--she said you wished to
speak to me."
"She must have been dreaming!"
"On the contrary, she looked particularly wide awake, and would take no
refusal,--we are just getting up a match." Nevertheless, he lingered.
"I should have thought you'd had enough of tennis for to-day," remarked
Nancy.
"Yes, I daresay. You are in great form, you and I, are the proud
winners of the ladies' and gentlemen's doubles. I say----" he paused
abruptly.
"What do you say?" she asked.
"Well,--it's about that fellow Villars;--you will remember, I begged
you to drop him; and I find him here installed as Tame cat: in fact a
sort of Puss in Boots,--running the whole show!"
"That's true," admitted Nancy, "but Sir Dudley was _l'ami de la maison_
long before Mrs. De Wolfe knew me,--and surely you can scarcely expect
her to turn out her old friends on _my_ account,--besides, he is her
godson."
"So you think that sanctifies him?" shifting his bat under his arm.
"No, certainly not; but I do honestly believe, you are prejudiced and
that Sir Dudley is not any worse than his neighbours; he is religious
in his way too, always down to family prayers,--of course, attendance
is optional,--whilst _you_ appear with the hot dishes! He reads the
Scriptures beautifully,--I've never heard the twelfth chapter of
Ecclesiastes read with such expression."
"If you would only take my word for it, the Song of Solomon is a
thousand times more in his line--all about my beloved, and roses, and
lilies."
"Do you know, that he has a _wife_?" said Nancy expressively.
"No, has he? Unhappy woman! but I _do_ happen to know, that he has run
away with another man's wife! Certainly, it was years ago,--if he made
any scandal with mine"--he paused and looked full into her eyes, "by
Jove I would kill him,--and I should _like_ to kill him!"
Nancy burst into a peal of laughter. "How melodramatic you are! and how
you do abhor him!"
"May I ask, if he is aware, that you have a husband?" Although his
manner chaffed her--his voice had a ring of earnestness.
"What an absurd question; of course not! There isn't a soul in this
country, who's in the secret--except Mrs. Hicks."
"I say," he exclaimed, "we are a fine couple of impostors! You may be
amused to hear, that my uncle has taken an immense fancy to you."
"How nice of him."
"And between ourselves, he thinks you would be an ideal niece-in-law.
The Maynes are poor, the place swallows up money, and the reigning
proprietor is obliged to get hold of a consort with coin."
A thought instantly darted into Nancy's mind; here was her opportunity!
and as if in obedience to some irresistible force, she rose, with a
hammering heart,--looking, did she but know it, enchantingly pretty.--A
little pale perhaps, but stirred by some inward emotion, her lovely
face was unusually expressive. One or two rose leaves had fallen on her
uncovered hair, and the light between the branches overhead, sent the
shadows of leaves, to dance gaily upon her white skirt.
"A wife with coin," repeated Nancy, speaking with a desperate effort,
and fixing her eyes upon the ground, "well! you did that yourself."
"Quite unintentionally, I assure you," was the emphatic reply; "the
girl I married, was as poor as a church mouse! Nothing would tempt _me_
to marry for money."
"I suppose," began Nancy--and she hesitated.
"You suppose what?" he asked sharply.
"That if ... if ..." she stammered--for the tone of his voice had been
discouraging, and made her, if possible--more nervous. "If you could
forgive me,--do you think.... Oh, how _can_ I put it?..." and her voice
shook, "that _I_ could tempt you? Oh no, I don't mean _that_,--only I
don't want all that money; no one knows better than you do, that I
never was accustomed to riches, and--and I should be only too thankful,
to give it to you."
Mayne stared at her amazed! She was no longer pale.
"Nancy!" he exclaimed, "I remember how in old days you talked the
wildest nonsense, I don't suppose for a moment, that you know or mean,
one single word of what you are saying."
"Yes, I do," she rejoined tremulously, "but I can promise you
this,"--her lips quivered--and she added with difficulty, "I will never
say it again," she paused, struggling between pride, and emotion.
"Oh, my dear Nancy, if I could only believe you--don't you know----"
"So here you are, Derek!" exclaimed a high, authoritative treble,
and through a breach in the Pergola, Mrs. Speyde appeared, waving an
imperative tennis bat. "Have you forgotten, that we are _all_ waiting
to make up a match?" She glanced sharply from him to Nancy. His face
wore a strained expression, as for the girl, she was the colour of a
crimson rambler!
"Ah," with a little malicious laugh, "I see you have been talking
_secrets_. Yes, Miss Nancy, I always suspected that you knew a good
deal more about this gentleman than you pretended. Well, for the
present, you must leave the cat _in_ the bag. Derek," laying an
arresting hand on his arm, "you've _got_ to come!"
Mayne drew back, but before anything further happened, Nancy had picked
up her hat, and vanished through an opening that led into the old
walled garden.
That same evening, Nancy selected her most becoming frock, and took
particular pains with her hair--for she entertained high hopes, that
Mayne would seek her out, and endeavour to resume the conversation so
cruelly interrupted by Josie Speyde. At dinner, she saw nothing of
him,--as he happened to be on the same side of the table; later, as he
held the door for the ladies to pass forth, it seemed to her, that he
gave her a glance of particular significance; but strange to say, he
did not come into the drawing-room with the other men.
About an hour later, when she was singing a duet with Sir Dudley, she
noticed him standing near the door. It struck her, that he looked pale
and rather stern,--as if he had been annoyed, or disappointed; he made
no effort whatever to speak to her for the remainder of the evening;
and she retired for the night, with an acute sense of hopelessness, and
depression.