The next two weeks passed away all too quickly. The latter part of the
voyage had been chill and stormy, so that when Marseilles was reached,
Hector Darcy was seized with a conviction that it would be injudicious
for him to risk the dangers of an English spring, and that wisdom
pointed out a preliminary sojourn in the sunny South. This being the
case, it was only natural that he should betake himself to the hotel
where his friends the Savilles were located, and so make a convenient
fourth in their excursions. It would have been difficult to find a
pleasanter party with whom to travel, for father, mother, and daughter
were all in holiday mood, rejoicing in the prospect of home, and a
reunion with that redoubtable Arthur, whose exploits and excellences
were detailed a dozen times a day. They were so happy together,
moreover, and there was so friendly an understanding between them, that
they made an agreeable contrast to those numerous family parties who
reduce a stranger to a condition of misery by their mutual bickerings.
So far from labouring under the impression that any manners were good
enough for the members of their own family, the Saville trio were even
more punctiliously courteous to each other than to strangers, and that
despite the fact that parents and child were on terms of much greater
intimacy than is usual in such relationships.
Peggy's pride in her father was beautiful to behold, and in the presence
of strangers she paid him a respect so profound that those same
strangers would have been vastly surprised if they could have seen her
rumpling his hair in private, and tying his moustache in a neat little
festoon round his nose, while mother and daughter never seemed to
outgrow the joy of being together again after the years of separation.
"Oh, my Peg, what should I do without you?" Mrs Saville would cry on
those too frequent occasions when a recurrence of the weary Indian fever
came upon her, and Peggy nursed and comforted her as no hired attendant
could ever do. "Oh, my Peg, what should I do without you? What _shall_
I do, when you leave me to fly away to a home of your own? You have
spoiled me so much during these last years that I don't know what will
become of me without you, darling."
"I shall never marry, dear," returned Peggy comfortably. "I'll stay at
home like a good little girl, and wheel my mammie in a Bath chair.
Marriage is a luxury which is forbidden to an only daughter. Her place
is to stay at home and look after her parents!" But at this Mrs
Saville looked alarmed, and shook her head in emphatic protest.
"No, no--that's a wrong idea! I want you to marry, dear, when the right
time comes. I have been too happy myself to wish to keep you single.
Marriage is the best thing that can happen to a woman, if her husband is
as good and kind and noble as your father. I'm not selfish enough to
spoil your life for my own benefit, Peggy; but when the times comes,
remember I shall be very, very particular about the man you choose."
"Where, and how, shall I earliest meet him?
What are the words that he first will say?"
chanted Peggy, with so disastrous an attempt at the correct tune that
Mrs Saville shook with laughter, despite the pain in her head, and
Hector Darcy, entering the room, demanded to know the nature of the
joke.
"I was singing a little ditty, and mother derided me, as usual. People
always laugh when I sing, and declare that the tune is wrong. They
don't seem to understand that I'm improving on the original. We were
discussing my future husband, and the serenade was in his honour,"
explained Peggy with an unconscious serenity, at which her two
companions exchanged glances of astonishment.
"He is quite an imaginary hero as yet," Mrs Saville explained hastily,
"but the subject having been introduced, I was explaining to Peggy that
I should be extremely difficult to satisfy, and could not consent to
spare her to a man who did not come up to my ideal in every respect."
"And Peggy herself--what does she say? Has she an ideal, too, and what
shape does it take, if one may ask?" queried Hector, with an
embarrassment of manner which the mother noticed, if the daughter did
not.
Mrs Saville shaded her eyes with her hands and gazed keenly across the
room to where the two figures stood in the window, the man so tall and
imposing, the girl so small and dainty in her pretty white dress.
"Oh, I'm not exacting," said Peggy coolly. "I'm going to marry a man
with `heaps of money and a moustache, and a fireplace in the hall,' as
Mellicent used to say when we planned out our future in the old school-
days. Dear old Mill! I wonder if she is as funny as ever, and if she
still mixes up her sentences in the same comical way. I shall be
terribly disappointed if she doesn't. Five, six more weeks before I see
her and all the other vicarage people, and already I'm in a ferment of
impatience. Every mile we travel nearer home, the more I long for the
time to come; and when we get to London I really don't know how I shall
last out the fortnight before I go down to the country."
"Would it help matters if we invited Mellicent to come and join us in
London? She would enjoy the experience of living in an hotel and house-
hunting with us. You can write and ask her, dear, if you like," said
Mrs Saville fondly; and Peggy clasped her hands together in one of the
old ecstatic gestures.
"How s-imply lovely! Mother dear, you are an admirable person. There
is nothing in the world I should like so much, and it would be so wise,
too, for Mellicent and I would have time to get through our first
floodgates of talk before I met the others, so that I should not be torn
asunder by wanting to speak to every one at the same time. It will be a
wild dissipation for the dear old girl to stay in an hotel, and she does
enjoy herself so beamingly when she is out for a holiday that it's a
pleasure to behold her. I'll write this very minute!"
The invitation was despatched forthwith, and such a rhapsodical
acceptance received by return of post as effectually dispelled Peggy's
fears lest her friend might have outgrown her old peculiarities.
Mellicent at twenty-one was apparently as gushingly outspoken, as
amazingly irrelevant, as in the days of short frocks and frizzled locks,
and the expectation of meeting her in four short weeks lent added zest
to Peggy's enjoyment of her new surroundings.
The headquarters of this happy party was at an hotel situated on the
hill behind Cannes, and every morning a carriage waited at the door, to
drive them to the different places of interest in the neighbourhood.
They bought curious plaques and vases at the Vallauris pottery, went
over the scent manufactory at Grasse, where mountains of rose leaves and
violets are converted into fragrant perfumes, and drove along the
exquisite Cornichi road, which winds round the hillside, and affords a
view of the Mediterranean lying below, blue as a sapphire in the summer
sunshine. In the afternoons Mrs Saville would retire to rest, tired
out by the morning's exertions, and Peggy would say plaintively:
"Father dear, could you bear the reflections that your only daughter was
pining for an ice and a box of chocolates, and that you had refused to
indulge her for the sake of a few miserable rupees!" and the colonel
invariably replying in the negative, she would array herself in her
smartest frock, and repair with him to Rumpelmeyer's, who, as every one
who has stayed in the Riviera knows full well, is at once the most
wonderful and the most extortionate confectioner who ever tempted the
appetites of men.
At every visit Peggy and her father groaned afresh at the price of the
bonbons displayed so daintily in their satin boxes; but though they
agreed that it was impossible to indulge any more in such extravagance,
they invariably succumbed to temptation, the colonel ejaculating, "It's
a poor heart that never rejoices. We shall be young only once in our
lives, Peg, so we might as well enjoy ourselves while we can," and Peggy
explaining to her scandalised mother that the expenditure was really an
economy in the end, since she would keep all the pretty cases, fill them
with jujubes, and present them as Christmas presents to deserving
friends!
At Paris Hector Darcy bade his friends farewell, and Peggy bore his
departure in philosophical fashion. It had been delightful having his
company, for it had seemed like a "bit of home," but he would have been
dreadfully in the way in Paris, where the avowed business of the day was
the purchase of clothes and fripperies. Mrs Saville and her daughter
prepared for the fray with every appearance of enjoyment, and though the
colonel professed a horror of shopping, he yet manifested an agreeable
interest in their purchases.
"I can't afford to give you _carte blanche_, with all the expenses of
the new house before us," he explained, "but one or two pretty frocks
apiece you must and shall have, while we are on the spot; so go ahead
and make yourself smart, and I'll brace my nerves to face the bill."
There was no fear that Miss Peggy would not go ahead in such an
occupation. The only difficulty was that she went ahead too fast; but
by dint of forbearance, mingled with judicious firmness, the choice was
made at last, and in due time the dresses came home, the bills were
paid, and Colonel Saville, blessing Providence that he had not six women
to dress instead of two, hurried on the day of departure from a city of
such ruinous fascinations.
On one happy spring morning, then, behold the Saville trio once more
nearing the white cliffs of Old England--blessed travellers, whose exile
was over, and who could look forward to spending the rest of their lives
in that dear old country which, despite its rain and fog, must ever be
the dearest in the world to true-born Britons.
They stood together, amidst the bustle of arrival, looking with
sparkling eyes at the well-remembered scene, for there was no necessity
to hurry for the train, and Colonel Saville, with all a soldier's
intolerance of a scramble, decided to wait on board until the general
exodus was over. "Then we will get a porter to take our boxes quietly
ashore," he explained to his companions; and, as if his words had been
overheard, at that very moment a candidate for that post came up from
behind.
"Carry your boxes, sir? Can I carry your boxes?" cried a breezy voice,
at the sound of which Peggy gasped, Mrs Saville laid her hand over her
heart, and the colonel wheeled round to confront Arthur himself, taller,
broader, handsomer than ever.
"My boy!" he cried brokenly.
"Arthur!" gasped his mother, and lay sobbing on the dear, strong
shoulder, while Peggy stroked the tails of his coat, and assiduously
licked away the tears which would insist upon flowing down her cheeks.
Why cry, when she was so happy? The thing was absurd! Why do anything
but laugh, and dance, and sing with mirth, when at long, long last they
were all four together, and Arthur stood before her in solid flesh and
blood?
"How tall you are! Taller than your father, my dear big son!"
"How good it is to see you again, my boy! We have wearied for this
day."
"Oh, Arthur, what a big moustache! What a dear you look! We never,
never expected to see you before we got to London."
"I was not sure of coming, but I worked it somehow, for I could not wait
an hour longer than was necessary. Peg, you're a lady growed! I looks
towards you! Oh, let us be joyful! This is grand to be together again,
with no more miserable partings ahead. Welcome to England, mother!
First step on the old land--eh? Feels nice and sound beneath your feet,
doesn't it? Just the sort of solid, durable old place to take root in
after a roaming life!" And Arthur led his mother on shore, rattling
away in his old merry style, though the tears shone in his eyes also,
and his voice was not so clear as it might have been.
The years that had passed since he had seen his parents last had not
been altogether easy ones for him. He had had to face the bitterest
disappointment of his life, to adapt himself to a new and uncongenial
sphere, and, in spite of all his courage, there had been moments when
the task had seemed too heavy to bear. It had been an effort to write
cheerfully, and to refrain from repinings over his lost hopes, but he
had made the effort, and he was rewarded for his forbearance a hundred
times over in this moment of meeting, as he noticed the hollows in his
mother's cheeks, and the grey locks on his father's brow. It had been
hard enough for them as it was. He was thankful he had not laid on them
the additional burden of his own sufferings.
The reunited family travelled up to town together, and dined in a
private room in the hotel, so that they might be able to talk without
interruption. Arthur was, of course, the hero of the occasion, and was
handed about from one to another of his adoring relatives in a manner
which would have been amusing to an onlooker. First of all Mrs Saville
claimed him, and they sat on the sofa together, stroking each other's
hands like a charming pair of lovers, as a mother and grown-up son
should always be. Then she cast an apologetic glance at her husband,
and made an excuse to move her position, when Colonel Saville took
possession of his "boy," and the two tall figures leant against the
mantelpiece talking "manny talk," as Peggy expressed it, and smoking
their cigarettes. Finally it was Peggy's own turn, and she sat perched
on Arthur's knee, gazing into the dear, handsome face which had always
been her ideal of manly beauty.
"Fancy, Arthur, just fancy, we are grown-up ladies and gentlemen! I am
twenty-one, and you are twenty-six! Doesn't it seem wonderful? You
look so handsome, dear, so big and important! I suppose you are
important, aren't you? What is your chief like? Does he appreciate
you? Does he defer sufficiently to your advice? Between ourselves, the
English Government isn't so well managed as I could wish. There is a
want of firmness in dealing with Foreign Powers which annoys me greatly.
Next time you get into a muddle at the War Office, just tell them to
apply to me, and I'll set them straight! If I could get the chance of
being Minister of War for a couple of days, I'd settle them! No shilly-
shally for me I I'd show them how the thing ought to be done!"--and
Peggy wagged her head in a fierce and defiant manner, which sent Arthur
into a peal of laughter.
"Not any more burdened by modesty than you used to be, I perceive, young
lady. I'll be pleased to pass on your message. The chief is a
conscientious fellow, and feels his responsibility so much that it will
doubtless be a relief to him to know that Peggy Saville is to the
rescue. I'll introduce you to him some time soon, when you can have an
opportunity of airing your views."
"I should like that. I suppose we shall have any amount of invitations
when we are really settled, but just at first we want to devote all our
energies to house-hunting. We are going to drive to the agent's first
thing to-morrow morning, to see what he has to offer us, and then
Mellicent arrives in the afternoon. You knew she was coming, didn't
you, and that I am going home with her at the end of a fortnight?"
Arthur chuckled softly to himself.
"Chubby in London! What delirious excitement! I must try to go about
with you sometimes, for it will be great to hear her remarks. She has
never been in town for more than a few hours at a time on a shopping
expedition, and has everything to see. Chubby has developed into a very
creditable specimen, I'd have you know, and she don't appreciate being
called Chubby no more. Consequently, I make a point of addressing her
by no other name! When she gets into a rage she looks surprisingly like
the fat little girl of a dozen years back."
"Too bad!" cried Peggy, laughing. "None of that sort of thing while she
is here, remember! No one shall tease my visitors but myself. I'm
simply longing to see the dear old girl, and hear all the news about
everybody. Rob is at The Cedars, they say, so I must wait to see him
there, but Rosalind is in town. Oh, Arthur, do you see much of her? Do
you meet her often? Is she a great beauty, and does every one talk
about her and make a fuss of her wherever she goes, as we used to
imagine they would do when she grew up? Do tell me all about Rosalind!"
Arthur's face stiffened in a curious, unnatural fashion, and his lips
lost their laughing curve, and grew straight and hard. The sparkle died
out of his face, and he looked a boy no longer, but a man, and a man who
had not found his life too easy. He was astonishingly like his father
at that moment, and both mother and sister noted the fact.
"Oh, that would be a long story, and would take up too much time. For
Rosalind's doings, see the society papers," he cried, with an
indifference too elaborate to be genuine. "To-morrow's issue will no
doubt inform you that she is at some big function to-night, wearing a
robe of sky-blue silk, festooned with diamonds and bordered with rubies.
That's the proper style of thing, isn't it, for a society belle? I see
her occasionally. Lord Darcy is the kindest of friends, and I have
always a welcome at his house. I don't go very often, but I meet them
out, and am vouchsafed a dance, or ten minutes' conversation, if nobody
more important is on the scene. Rosalind is an important personage
nowadays, and can't waste her time on the likes of me; but she is
devoted to you, Peg, and will rush round to see you the moment you let
her know that you are at home."
But Peggy set her lips, and privately resolved to be in no hurry to
apprise Rosalind Darcy of her return. No one who considered herself too
grand for Arthur should have the chance of associating with his sister.
Dear, darling Arthur! Did he still care, then? Was Rosalind's
beautiful face still a Will-o'-the-wisp to dazzle and ensnare his heart,
and was it possible that she, or any mortal woman, could have the
hardihood to resist Arthur Saville when he came to woo? Peggy sat
silent, but her heart formed a voiceless prayer--a prayer that if in the
future trouble must come, she might be the one to bear it, and that
Arthur might be shielded from a second crushing disappointment.