Helps buttoned on his great coat, said a few words to one of the
clerks, and stepped out into the foggy night. He hailed a passing
omnibus, and in the course of half-an-hour found himself fumbling with
his latch-key in the door of a neat little house, which, however, was
at the same moment thrown wide open from within, and a tall girl with a
pale face, clear grey eyes, and a quantity of dark hair coiled about
her head stood before him.
"It's father, Cherry," she said to a little cousin who popped round the
corner. "Put the sausages on, and dish up the potatoes. Now don't be
awkward. I'm glad you're in good time, father--here, give us a kiss. Do
I look nice in this dress? I made it all myself. Here, come up to the
gas, and have a good look at it. How does it fit? Neat, eh?"
The dress was a dark green velveteen, made without attempt at ornament,
but fitting the slim and lissom figure like a glove.
"It's neat, but plain, surely," replied Helps, looking puzzled, proud,
and at the same time dissatisfied. "A bit more color now,--more
flouncing--Why, what's the matter, Essie? How you do frown, my girl."
"Come in out of the cold, father. Oh, no, not the kitchen, I've ordered
supper to be laid in the dining-room. Well, perhaps the room it does
smoke, but that will soon clear off. Now, father, I want to ask you an
important question. Do I look like a lady in this dress?"
She held herself very erect, the pure outline of her grand figure was
shown to the best advantage, her massive head had a queenly pose, and
the delicate purity of her complexion heightened the effect. Her accent
was wrong, her words betrayed her--could she have become dumb, she
might have passed for a princess.
"Do I look like a lady?" she repeated.
Little Helps stepped back a pace or two--he was puzzled and annoyed.
"You look all right, Essie," he said. "A lady? Oh, well--but you ain't
a lady, my girl. Look here, Esther, this room is mortal cold--I'd a
sight rather have my supper cosy in the kitchen."
"You can't then, father. You must take up with the genteel ways. After
supper we're going into the drawing-room, and I'll play to you on the
pianner, pa; I have been practising all day. Perhaps, too, we'll have
company--there's no saying."
"Company?" repeated Helps. "Who--what?"
"Oh, I'm not going to say, maybe he won't come. I met him in the
park--I was skating with the Johnsons, and I fell, and he picked me up.
I might have been hurt but for him. Then he heard George Johnson
calling me by my name, and it turned out that he knew you. Oh, wasn't
he a swell, and didn't he look it! And hadn't he a name worth boasting
of! 'Mr. Gerald Wyndham.' Why, what's the matter, father? He said that
he had often promised to look you up some evening, to bring you some
stupid book or other. He said maybe he would come to-night. That's why
I had the drawing-room and dining-room all done up. He said perhaps
he'd call, and took off his hat most refined. I took an awful fancy to
him--his ways was so aspiring. He said he might come to-night, but he
wasn't sure. I didn't know you had young men like that at your office,
father. And what is the matter?--why, you're quite white!"
"I never talk of what goes on at the place of business," replied
Helps, in quite a brusque voice for him. "And as to that young gent,
Esther, he's our Miss Valentine's husband."
"Married? Oh, lor, he didn't look it! And who is 'our Miss Valentine?'
if I may be bold enough to ask."
"Mr. Paget's daughter. I said I didn't mention matters connected with
the place of business."
"You always were precious close, father. But you're a dear, good, old
dad, all the same, and Cherry and I would sooner die than have you
scolded about anything. Cherry, my fine beau's a married man--pity,
aint it? I thought maybe he'd suit me."
"Then you needn't have lit the fire in the drawing-room," answered
Cherry, a very practical and stoutly-built little maid of fifteen.
"Maybe I needn't, but there's no harm done. I suppose I can talk to
him, even if he is married. Won't I draw him out about Miss Valentine,
and tell him how father always kept her a secret from us."
"Supper's ready, uncle," said Cherry. "Oh, bother that fire! It's quite
out. Don't the sausages smell good, uncle? I cooked them myself."
The three sat down to the table, poor Helps shivering not a little, and
casting more than one regretful glance at the warm and cosy kitchen. He
was feeling depressed for more than one reason this evening, and a
sense of dismay stole over him at Esther's having accidentally made
Wyndham's acquaintance.
"It's a bad omen," he said, under his breath, "and Esther's that
contrary, and so taken up with making a lady of herself, and she's
beautiful as a picter, except when she talks folly.
"I liked that young man from the first," he murmured. "I took, so to
speak, a fancy to him, and warned him, and I quoted scripter to him.
All to no good. The glint of a gel's eye was too much for him, he sold
himself for her--body and soul he sold himself for her. Still, I went
on keeping up a fancy for him, and I axed him to look me up some
evening, and have a pipe--he's wonderful on words too--he can derivate
almost as many as I can. I'm sorry now I asked him--Esther's that
wilful, and as beautiful as a picter. She talks too much to young men
that's above her. She's set on being a lady. Mr. Wyndham's married, of
course, but Esther wouldn't think nothing of trying to flirt with him
for all that."
"Esther," he said, suddenly, raising his deep-set eyes, and fixing them
on his daughter, "ef the young man calls, it's to see me, mind
you--he's a married man, and he has got the most beautiful wife in the
world, and he loves her. My word, I never heard tell of nobody loving
their wife so much!"
Esther's big grey eyes opened wide.
"How you look at me, dad," she said. "One would think I wanted to steal
Mr. Wyndham from his wife! I'm glad he loves her, it's romantic, it
pleases me."
"And there's his ring at the door," suddenly exclaimed Cherry. "Esther
was right to prepare the drawing-room. I'm glad he have come. I like to
look at handsome gents, particular when they are in love."
Gerald's arrival was accidental after all. He and his wife were dining
in Queen's Gate, and after dinner he remembered his adventure on the
ice, and told the story in an amusing way.
"A most beautiful girl, but with such an accent and manner," he said.
"And who do you think she turned out to be, sir?" he added, turning to
his father-in-law. "Why, your cracked clerk's daughter. She told me her
name was Esther Helps, and I found they were father and daughter."
"Has old Helps got a daughter?" exclaimed Valentine.
"How funny that I should never have known it. I have always been rather
fond of old Helps."
"He has an only daughter, as I have an only daughter," replied Mr.
Paget. Valentine was sitting close to him; he put his arm around her
waist as he spoke.
"How queer that I should never have known," continued Valentine. "And
her name is Esther? It is a pretty name. And you say that she is
handsome, Gerry? What is she like?"
"Tall and pale, with an expressive face," replied Wyndham, lightly.
"She is lady-like, and even striking-looking until she opens her
lips--then----" he made an expressive grimace.
"Poor girl, as if she could help that," replied Val. "She has never
been educated, you know. Her father is poor, and he can't give her
advantages. Does old Helps love his daughter very much, dad?"
"I suppose so, Val. Yes, I think I may say I am sure he does."
"I am so interested in only girls with fathers," continued Mrs.
Wyndham. "I wish I had seen Esther Helps. I hope you were kind to her,
Gerald."
"I picked her up, dear, and gave her to her friends. By-the-way, I said
I'd call to see old Helps this evening. He has a passion for the
derivation of words, and I have Trench's book on the subject. Shall I
take Esther a message from you, Val?"
"Yes, say something nice. I am not good at making up messages. Tell her
I am interested in her, and the more she loves her father, the greater
my interest must be. See, this is much better than any mere
message--take her this bunch of lilies--say I sent them. Now, Gerald,
is it likely I should be lonely? Father and I are going to have two
hours all to ourselves."
But as Valentine said these light words, her hand lingered on her
husband's shoulder, and her full brown eyes rested on his face.
Something in their gaze made his heart throb. He put his arm round her
neck and kissed her forehead.
"I shan't be two hours away," he said.
He took up the flowers, put "Trench on Words" into his pocket, and went
out.
Wyndham had a pleasant way with all people. His words, his manner, his
gentle courteous smile won for him hearts in all directions. He was
meant to be greatly beloved; he was born to win the most dangerous
popularity of all--that which brought to him blind and almost
unreasoning affection.
He was received at No. 5 Acadia Terrace with enthusiasm. Esther and
Cherry were open-eyed in their admiration, and Helps, a little
sorrowful--somehow Helps if he wasn't cynical was always
sorrowful--felt proud of the visit.
Gerald insisted on adjourning to the kitchen. He and Helps had a long
discussion on words--Cherry moved softly about, putting everything in
order--Esther sat silent and lovely, glancing up now and then at Gerald
from under her black eyelashes. Valentine's flowers lay in her lap.
They were dazzlingly white, and made an effective contrast to her dark
green dress. It was a peaceful little scene--nothing at all remarkable
about it. Gerald fell more contented than he had done for many a day.
Who would have thought that out of such innocent materials mischief of
the deadliest sort might be wrought to him and his.