“THE ONLY POSSIBLE THING”
For the first time since when, as a small, curly-headed boy, Hugh
Alston had looked up at her ladyship with unclouded fearless eyes, that
had appealed instantly to her, he and she were bad friends. Hugh had
driven back to Hurst Dormer after a brief battle with her ladyship. He
had seen Marjorie for a few moments, had soothed her, and told her not
to worry, that it was not her fault. He had kissed her in brotherly
fashion, and had wondered a little at himself for the slight feeling of
impatience against her that came to him. He had never been impatient of
her before, but her tears this afternoon unreasonably annoyed him.
“She’s a dear, sweet little soul, and over tender-hearted. Of course,
she got me into this mess, and of course, bless her heart, she is
worrying over it; but it can’t be helped. As for that other girl!” His
lips tightened. It seemed to him that Miss Joan Meredyth had not shone
any more than he had. She had taken the whole thing in bad part.
“No woman,” said Hugh to himself, “has any sense of humour!” In which
he was wrong, besides which, it had nothing to do with the case.
“I am disappointed in Hugh,” Lady Linden said to her niece. “I don’t
often admit myself wrong; in this matter I do. I regarded Hugh Alston
as a man utterly and completely open and above board. I find him
nothing of the kind. I am deeply disappointed. I am glad to feel that
my plans with regard to Hugh Alston and yourself will come to nothing.”
“But, aunt—”
“Hold your tongue! and don’t interrupt me when I am speaking. I have
been considering the matter of you and Tom Arundel. Of course, your
income is a small one, even if I released it, but—”
“Aunt—we—we wouldn’t mind, I could manage on so little. I should love
to manage for him.” The girl clasped her hands, she looked with
pleading eyes at the old lady.
“Well, well, we shall see!” her ladyship said indulgently. “I don’t say
No, and I don’t say Yes. You are both young yet. By the way, write a
letter to Tom and ask him to dine with us to-morrow.”
“Thank you, aunt!” Marjorie flushed to her eyes. “Oh, thank you so
much!”
“My good girl, there’s nothing to get excited about. I don’t suppose
that he will eat more than about half a crown’s worth.”
Meanwhile, Hugh Alston had retired to his house at Hurst Dormer in a
none too happy frame of mind. He had rowed with Lady Linden, had
practically told her to mind her own business, which was a thing
everyone had been wishing she would do for the past ten years, and no
one had ever dared tell her to.
Altogether, he felt miserably unhappy, furious with himself and angry
with Miss Joan Meredyth. The one and only person he did not blame was
the one, only and entirely, to blame—Marjorie!
This Sunday morning Hugh in his study heard the chug-chug of a small
and badly driven light car, and looked out of the window to see
Marjorie stepping out of the vehicle.
“Hugh,” she said a few moments later, “I am so—so worried about you. I
hate to think that all this trouble is through me. Aunt thinks I have
gone to church, but I haven’t. I got out the car, and drove here
myself. Hugh, what can I do?”
“There’s one thing you can’t do, child, and that is drive a car! There
are heaps of things you can do. One of them is to go back and be happy,
and not worry your little head over anything.”
“But I must, it is all because of me; and, Hugh, aunt has asked Tom to
dinner to-day.”
“I hope he has a good dinner,” said Hugh.
“Hugh!” She looked at him. “It is no good trying to make light of it. I
know you’ve been worried. I know you and—and Joan must have had a scene
yesterday, or she wouldn’t have left the house without even seeing me.”
“We had—a few words; I noticed that she did seem a little angry,” he
said.
“Poor Joan! She was always so terribly proud; it was her poverty that
made her proud and sensitive, I think.”
He nodded. “I think so, too. Poverty inclines her to take an
exaggerated view of everything, Marjorie. She took it badly.”
The girl slipped her hand through his arm. “Is—is there anything I can
do? It is all my fault, Hugh. Shall I confess to aunt, and then go and
see Joan, and—”
“Not on your life, you’ll spoil everything. I am out of favour with the
old lady; she will take Tom into favour in my place. All will go well
with you and Tom, and after all that is what I worked for. With regard
to Miss Joan Meredyth—” He paused.
“Yes, Hugh, what about Joan? Oh, Hugh, now you have seen her, don’t you
think she is wonderful?”
“I thought she had a very unpleasing temper,” he said.
“There isn’t a sweeter girl in the world,” Marjorie said.
“I didn’t notice any particular sweetness about her yesterday. She had
reason, of course, to feel annoyed, but I think she made the most of
it, however—” He paused.
“Yes, Hugh, what shall you do? I know you have something in your mind.”
“You are right; I have. I am going to do the only thing that seems to
me possible just now.”
“And that is?”
“Seek out Miss Joan Meredyth, and ask her to become my wife in
reality.”