MY LADY FRANCES--THE FUTURE LADY DAMER--WE UNDERSTAND EACH OTHER AT
LAST
It was true. My theories and my disappointment went to the winds. We
had few common acquaintances or social interests to talk about, and
yet the time we spent together never seemed long enough for our fluent
conversation. We had always a thousand things to say when we met, and
feeling as if we had been together all our lives, I felt also utterly
restless and wretched when I was not with her. Of course, I learnt her
history. She and her sister were the little ladies I had seen in my
childhood. The St. John family were their cousins, and as the boy, of
whom mention has been made, did die in Madeira, the property
eventually came to Frances Chislett and her sister. The estate was
sold, and they were co-heiresses. Adeline, the other sister, soon came
to the Towers. She was more like her old self than Frances. The
exquisitely, strangely fair hair, the pale-blue eyes, the gentle
helpless look, all were the same. She was very lovely, but Frances was
like no other woman I had ever seen before, or have ever met with
since. I resolved to ask Lionel Damer how matters really stood between
them, and, if he were not engaged to her, to try my luck. One day when
she was with us at the Hall I decided upon this. I was told that
Lionel was in the library, and went to seek him. As I opened the door
I saw him standing in front of Polly, who was standing also. He was
speaking with an energy rare with him, and in a tone of voice quite
strange to me.
"It's not like you to say what's not true," he was saying. "You are
_not_ well, you are _not_ happy. You may deceive every one else,
Polly, but you can never deceive me. All these years, ever since I
first knew you--"
I stole out, shut the door, and went to seek Frances. I found her by
Rubens' grave, and there we plighted our troth.
* * * * *
It was in the evening of the same day that Polly and I met in the
hall, on our way to attempt the difficult task of dressing for dinner
in five minutes. The grey-eyed lady of my love had just left me for
the same purpose, and I was singing, I don't know what, at the top of
my voice in pure blitheness of heart. Polly and I fairly rushed into
each other's arms.
"My dear child!" said I, swinging her madly round, "I am delirious
with delight, and so is Sweep, for she kissed his nose."
Poor Polly buried her head on my shoulder, saying,
"And, oh, Regie! I _am_ so happy!"
It was thus that my father and Aunt Maria found us. Fate, spiteful at
our happiness, had sent my father, stiff with an irreproachable
neckcloth, and Aunt Maria, rustling in amber silk and black laces,
towards the drawing-room, five minutes too early for dinner, but just
in time to catch us in the most sentimental of attitudes, and to hear
dear, candid, simple-hearted Polly's outspoken confession--"I _am_ so
happy!"
"And how long are you going to keep your happiness to yourselves,
young people?" said my father, whose face beamed with a satisfaction
more sedately reflected in Aunt Maria's countenance. "Do you grudge
the old folks a share? Eh, sir? eh?"
And the old gentleman pinched my shoulder, and clapped me on the back.
He was positively playful.
"Stop, my dear father," said I, "you're mistaken."
"Eh, what?" said my father, and Aunt Maria drew her laces round her
and prepared for war.
"Polly and I are not engaged, sir, if that's what you think," said I,
desperately.
My father and Aunt Maria both opened their mouths at once.
"Dinner's on the table, sir," the butler announced. My father lacked a
subject for his vexation, and turned upon old Bowles:
"Take the dinner to ----"
"--the kitchen," said I, "and keep it warm for ten minutes; we are not
ready. Now, my dear father, come to my room, for I have something to
tell you."
There was no need for Polly to ask Aunt Maria to go with her. That
lady drove her daughter before her to her bedroom, with a severity of
aspect which puzzled and alarmed poor Leo, whom they passed in the
corridor. A blind man could have told by the rustle of her dress that
Mrs. Ascott would have a full explanation before she broke bread again
at our table.
I fancy she was not severe upon the future Lady Damer, when Polly's
tale was told.
As to my father, he was certainly vexed and put out at first. But day
by day my lady-love won more and more of his heart. One evening, a
week later, he disappeared mysteriously after dinner, and then
returned to the dining-room, carrying some old morocco cases.
"My dear boy," he said, in an almost faltering voice, "I never dared
to hope my dear wife's diamonds would be so worthily worn by yours.
Your choice has made an old man very happy, sir. For a thoroughly
high-bred tone, for intelligence, indeed, I may say, brilliancy of
mind, and for every womanly grace and virtue, I have seen no one to
approach her since your mother's death. I should have loved little
Polly very much, but your choice has been a higher one--more
refined--more refined. For, strictly between ourselves, my dear boy,
our dear little Polly has, now and then, just a thought too much of
your Aunt Maria about her."
The Rector and Maria were made happy. My father "carried it through,"
by my desire. Uncle Ascott was delighted, and became a benefactor to
the parish; but it took Aunt Maria some years to forget that the
patronised curate had scorned the wife she had provided for him, only
to marry her own daughter.
When I bade farewell to Adeline on our wedding day, she gave me her
cheek to kiss with a pretty grace, saying,
"You see, Regie, I _am_ your sister after all!"