Wyndham was engaged to Valentine Paget very nearly a year before their
wedding. One of the young lady's stipulations was that under no
circumstances would she enter into the holy estate of matrimony before
she was eighteen. Paget made no objection to this proviso on Val's
part. In these days he humored her slightest wish, and no happier pair
to all appearance could have been seen driving in the Park, or riding
in the Row, than this handsome father and daughter.
"What a beautiful expression he has," remarked many people. And when
they said this to the daughter she smiled, and a sweet proud light came
into her eyes.
"My father is a darling," she would say. "No one knows him as I do. I
believe he is about the greatest and the best of men."
When Val made enthusiastic remarks of this kind. Wyndham looked at her
sorrowfully. She was very fond of him by this time--he had learned to
fit himself to her ways, to accommodate himself to her caprices, and
although she frankly admitted that she could not for an instant compare
him to her father, she always owned that she loved him next best, and
that she thought it would be a very happy thing to be his wife.
No girl could look sweeter than Val when she made little speeches of
this kind, but they had always a queer effect upon her lover, causing
him to experience an excitement which was scarcely joy, for nothing
could have more fatally upset Mr. Paget's plans than Valentine really
to fall in love with Wyndham.
The wedding day was fixed for the first week in July, and Valentine was
accompanied to the altar by no less than eight bridesmaids. It was a
grand wedding--quite one of the events of the season, and those who saw
it spoke of the bride as beautiful, and of the bridegroom as a grave,
striking-looking man.
If a man constantly practises self-repression there comes a time when,
in this special art, he almost reaches perfection. Wyndham had come to
this stage, as even Lilias, who read her brother like a book, could see
nothing amiss with him on his wedding day. All, therefore, went merrily
on this auspicious occasion, and the bride and bridegroom started for
the continent amid a shower of blessings and good wishes.
"Gerald, dear, I quite forgive you," said Lilias, as at the very last
minute she put her arms round her brother's neck.
"What for, Lilly?" he asked, looking down at her.
Then a shadow of great bitterness crossed the sunshine of his face. He
stooped and kissed her forehead.
"You don't know my sin, so you cannot forgive it, Lilly," he continued.
"Oh, my darling, I know you," she said. "I don't think you could sin. I
meant that I have learned already to love Valentine a little, and I am
not surprised at your choice. I forgive you fully, Gerald, for loving
another girl better than your sister Lilias. Good-bye, dear old Gerry.
God bless you!"
"He won't do that, Lilly--he can't. Oh, forgive me, dear, I didn't mean
those words. Of course I'm the happiest fellow in the world."
Gerald turned away, and Lilias kissed Valentine, and then watched with
a queer feeling of pain at her heart as the bridal pair amid cheers and
blessings drove away.
Gerald's last few words had renewed Lilias' anxiety. She felt restless
in the great, grand house, and longed to be back in the rectory.
"What's the matter, Lil?" said Marjory; "your face is a yard long, and
you are quite white and have dark lines under your eyes. For my part I
did not think Gerald's wedding would be half so jolly, and what a nice
unaffected girl Valentine is."
"Oh, yes, I'm not bothering my head about her," said Lilias. "She's all
right, just what father said she was. I wish we were at home again,
Maggie."
"Yes, of course, so do I," said Marjory. "But then we can't be, for we
promised Gerald to try and make things bright for Mr. Paget. Isn't he a
handsome man, Lilly? I don't think I ever saw anyone with such a
beaming sort of benevolent expression."
"He is certainly very fond of Valentine, and she of him," answered
Lilias. "No, I did not particularly notice his expression. The fact is
I did not look at anyone much except our Gerald. Marjory, I think it is
an awful thing for girls like us to have an only brother--he becomes
almost too precious. Marjory, I cannot sympathize with Mr. Paget. I
wish we were at home. I know our dear old dad will want us, and there
is no saying what mess Augusta will put things into."
"Father heard from Mr. Carr on the morning we left," responded Marjory.
"I think he is coming to the rectory on Saturday. If so, father won't
miss us: he'll be quite taken up showing him over the place."
"I shall hate him," responded Lilias, in a very tart voice. "Fancy his
taking our Gerald's place. Oh, Maggie, this room stifles me--can't we
change our dresses, and go out for a stroll somewhere? Oh, what folly
you talk of it's not being the correct thing! What a hateful place this
London is! Oh, for a breath of the air in the garden at home. Yes, what
is it, Mrs. Johnstone?"
Lilias' pretty face looked almost grumpy, and a decidedly discontented
expression lurked in the dark, sweet eyes she turned upon the good lady
of the establishment.
"Lilly has an attack of the fidgets," said Marjory. "She wants to go
out for a walk."
"You shall both come in the carriage with me, my dears. I was coming in
to propose it to you. We won't dine until quite late this evening."
"Delightful," exclaimed Marjory, and the two girls ran out of the room
to get ready. Mrs. Johnstone followed them, and a few moments later a
couple of young men who were staying in the house sauntered lazily into
the drawing-room.
"What do you think of Wyndham's sisters, Exham?" said one to the other.
Exham, a delicate youth of about nineteen, gave a long expressive
whistle.
"The girls are handsome enough," he said. "But not in my style. The one
they call Lilias is too brusque. As to Wyndham, well--"
"What a significant 'well,' old fellow--explain yourself."
"Nothing," returned Exham, who seemed to draw out of any further
confidences he was beginning to make. "Nothing--only, I wouldn't be in
Wyndham's shoes."
The other man, whose name was Power, gave a short laugh.
"You need not pretend to be so wise and close, Exham," he retorted.
"Anyone can see with half an eye that Wyndham's wife is not in love
with him. All the same. Wyndham has not done a bad thing for
himself--stepping into a business like this. Why, he'll have everything
by-and-bye. I don't see how he can help it."
"Did you hear that funny story," retorted Exham, "about Wyndham's life
being insured?"
"No, what?--Most men insure their lives when they marry."
"Yes, but this is quite out of the common. At four offices, and
heavily. It filtered to me through one of the clerks at the office. He
said it was all Paget's doing."
"What a villain that clerk must be to let out family secrets,"
responded Power. "I don't believe there's anything in it, Exham. Ah,
here comes the young ladies. Yes, Mrs. Johnstone, I should like to go
for a drive very much."