The glance of shamed apprehension which Esther cast at Peggy as she
appeared upon the threshold afforded immense delight to those who
watched the meeting between the two girls. The old danger signals were
all to the fore, as Peggy walked across the room--the peaked brows,
pursed-up lips, and air of gracious patronage; but the dignity of later
years seemed but to have added fresh weapons to her armament. A pigtail
could never by any chance have been so imposing as the glossy coils
which were now wound round the little head. The rustle of silken skirts
heralded her approach in a manner infinitely more stately than the
scamper of thin brown legs, and the wave of the little hand was
emphasised by the twinkle of diamonds.
Esther grasped the back of her chair and gulped miserably. If only,
only Edward had not been present, she could have faced the worst; but
being still bashful and embarrassed in his presence, she trembled at the
thought of what was to come, and supplicated dumbly with her eyes.
"My dear Esther, a thousand felicitations! I do indeed rejoice in your
happiness," murmured Peggy sweetly, and pecked her cheek with a
condescending kiss. Esther's face disappeared for a moment, and came
into view again with a fine access of colour and such an expression of
anguish as seemed incomprehensible to those who did not know with what
force Peggy's foot had been pressed on a pet corn, or had not heard the
threatening whisper, "You _would_, would you? Wait till I get you
alone!" which had belied the honeyed words. The two girls stood
together in silence a moment longer, while the other occupants of the
room gazed upon them with curious eyes; then Peggy held out her hand to
the professor in her most fascinating manner. "We should not need an
introduction, Professor Reid, since we are already united by a mutual
love and admiration. I congratulate you truly. To be approved by
Esther has ever been the ambition of her friends. To be chosen above
all others is indeed an honour."
"I feel it so! I feel it so!" agreed the professor eagerly. He was
charmed to discover so understanding an appreciation of his _fiancee_,
and rose to the bait with innocent alacrity. "I feel very deeply the
responsibility attached to such a trust and my own unworthiness to
possess it, but I know that Esther will be patient with me and help me
to overcome my failings. She is so wise, so gentle--"
"So sensible--"
"So sensible, as you observe; so kind, so patient--"
"So faithful to her resolutions, so strong, so _consistent_ in her
actions!"
"Consistent, indeed!" echoed the professor, and rubbed his hands with
satisfaction. He saw only a remarkably affable, agreeable little lady,
who expressed herself with great propriety, and could not understand why
at this last word there was a general "family coach" movement in the
room, every one rushing hurriedly to take up a new position, or why
Esther herself should hang her head with an expression of guilty
embarrassment. How was he to know how often in that self-same company
his Esther had sung the praises of a single life, and vowed that no mere
man should be allowed to stand between herself and her life's work.
Mrs Asplin took refuge at the tea-table, and rattled the cups with a
trembling hand. The vicar tip-toed gently up and down in his carpet
slippers, and, in his efforts to look solemn, dropped his chin until his
face looked about half a yard long. Mellicent spluttered contentedly in
a corner, and Rob rubbed his hands and whispered, "Go it, Peg!" at every
fresh opportunity.
The conversation during tea-time was conducted mainly between the
professor and Miss Saville, and that young woman's friends listened with
amazed admiration to the high-flown eloquence of her remarks. Who would
have believed that Peggy was so well read, or able to conduct so learned
a conversation? Even her old instructor was surprised at her knowledge,
forgetting for the moment that education is by no means finished when a
girl leaves the schoolroom. Miss Peggy had associated with many clever
men during her four years' sojourn in India, had rubbed her sharp little
wits against theirs, and not only heard but remembered what they had had
to tell. She had likewise had abundant opportunity of cultivating her
natural gift for conversation, and the little minx was by no means sorry
to have an opportunity of quoting _a propos_ remarks in assent to the
professor's axioms, and thus impressing old and new friends at the same
time.
Rob scowled in the background and scraped his feet on the carpet, a sign
of disapproval peculiarly trying to the nerves of his hostess; but then,
as Mellicent sagely observed, Rob always _was_ furious if Peggy talked
to any one but himself; so that it was no use taking any notice of
_him_, and so soon as tea was over, Mrs Asplin ordered him away with
the two older men, feeling sure that the girls were longing for a chat
by themselves. The two stooping figures went down the garden-path, with
Rob's stalwart form towering behind, and the three women who loved them
watched from the window, and murmured benedictions in their hearts.
"Austin looks as young as the professor himself, not one bit more bowed.
He is so happy, bless him, to have gained another son."
"Edward will have a talk with father, and father will find out what he
is like. How intellectual he looks! He has the true scholarly air,
such a contrast to big, lumbering Rob."
"Two dear good pigmies, but the giant for me! What a comfort to see
brain and muscle together! As a rule one seems to entirely absorb the
other," sighed Miss Peggy happily, then turned to accost Esther with
uplifted finger. "Esther, oh, Esther, who would have thought it?"
"It was very mean of you, Peggy, to make fun of me like that. I was
most uncomfortable. If Edward had guessed you were making fun--"
"But he did not, you see, so no harm is done, and you could not expect
to escape scot free. _You_ to get engaged, after all your vows and
protestations! You to fall in love like an ordinary, ignorant girl!
You to condescend to marriage, when you might have spent your life
teaching in a high school! Oh, Esther, Esther, well might I call you
consistent! After this I shall have no more faith in strong-minded
women."
"Don't call her strong-minded! I won't have it; it sounds too unlovable
for my dear, good girl!" cried Esther's mother fondly, and then
immediately contradicting herself; "And indeed she would need to be
strong-minded," she declared, "to venture to many a literary man.
Tiresome creatures! that they are, always living in the clouds and
coming in late for meals. An aunt of my own married an author, who
ruined his health poring over his desk from morning to night, and half-
way through the night into the bargain. Her great object in life was to
tempt him out of doors, and at first she could never do it; but she was
a woman of resource, and got the better of him in the end. She said she
had nothing to do but to ring the dinner-bell, and out he would fly and
scour the country-side for hours on end! So, indeed, she rang it
regularly half-way through the afternoon, and the poor soul was too lost
in dreams to discover the deception. He just thought he had been out
for ten minutes' constitutional, and that the meal had been kept hot
until his return. I've known several literary couples in my time, but
they were the only really happy pair, for not one woman in fifty has the
wit to manage a man without letting him suspect it. Remember, Esther,
when the professor is aggravating--"
"He never will be! Mother, how _can_ you?" protested the _fiancee_
indignantly, at which Mrs Asplin beamed with delight, Mellicent
chuckled, and Peggy groaned in sepulchral fashion.
"Just wait and see. He'll wear you to a skeleton, my dear, and you
never had too much flesh to boast of. I've heard tales about literary
men which would make your flesh creep. Being late for meals is
nothing--literally nothing! I'm told they never speak for months at a
time when they are in the throes of composition, and habitually sit up
at night writing until they fall asleep, knock over the lamp, and set
the house on fire. You had better keep fire-escapes on every landing,
for you are bound to need them."
It was of no use. Esther refused to be alarmed or even depressed. She
sat smiling and complacent, her hands folded on her knee, her usually
serious face softened into a radiance of contented happiness. Her state
of illusion was such that, if any one had dared to hint that the
professor might possibly mingle some trifling failing with his many
virtues, she would have laughed the idea to scorn, and her companions
realised as much, and made no further efforts to convince her.
"It's no use talking!" Mellicent cried in scorn. "She thinks he is
perfect, and that we are all too stupid and ignorant to appreciate him.
It's the way all girls go on when they get engaged, and the only thing
to do is to keep quiet, and let them find out their mistake. They are
mad, poor dears, and don't know what they are doing. Let us talk about
the wedding; that will be more interesting. I have simply ached to have
a wedding in the family, and felt quite low because I thought mine would
be the first, and I should be cheated out of the fun of being a
bridesmaid and having all the fuss and excitement."
"I am afraid you will have very little of that, Mill, as it is, for it
will be very, very quiet. I should hate a fashionable wedding, and feel
that it took away half the solemnity of the service to have one's
thoughts taken up with dress and furbelows. Edward wants to be married
very soon, in two months, if possible, for he says he has waited long
enough for a home, and there is no reason for delay. We are quite sure
of our own minds, and there will be no difficulty in finding another
governess for the little boys; so, mother dear, we must try to be ready
for a very quiet wedding by that time. I shall not need an elaborate
trousseau, you know; just a few plain, useful dresses."
Mellicent groaned, and threw up her hands in despair.
"Oh dear, what a thing it is to be sensible! Just listen to her, Peggy,
with her `few useful dresses.' I must say it's very hard on me, to have
a sister who never takes my feelings into account. What is the good of
having a wedding at all, if it isn't properly done with a choral service
and bridesmaids and pretty frocks? I don't think you _could_ be so
selfish, Esther, as to say I shall not be bridesmaid. I'd break my
heart if you did. Just Peggy and me, and one or two of his relatives,
and Rosalind Darcy, and the little boys as pages to hold up your train.
They would look sweet as pages, and every one has them now.--It's quite
the proper thing."
But Esther laughed derisively at the very idea.
"Pages indeed! Trains indeed! I sha'n't have any train to carry. My
own idea is to be married in my travelling-dress at eight o'clock in the
morning, and drive straight to the station; but we must talk it over
with Edward and see what he says. You can call yourself a bridesmaid,
Mill, if you like to stand beside me, and Peggy will be there, of
course, but she will understand that it is no lack of love which makes
me ask her as a guest only. If there were going to be bridesmaids
outside the family, she would be the first to be asked."
Peggy made a bow of gracious acknowledgment.
"And I am not so sure that there won't be even yet. Men, I have
observed, are extremely prosaic about other people's weddings and
sentimental about their own. The professor may object to the
travelling-dress, and want to see you in the orthodox white, in which
case Mellicent will have her desire, for, of course, you will give in to
him in that, as in every other instance. I hope he does, for I must
confess I like to see a bride in white."
"And so do I," agreed the bride's mother. "I think it's a sin for a
girl to be married in anything else when she is young, and the dress has
to be bought in any case for wearing afterwards. You know, Esther dear,
you will be asked out a great deal in Oxford, and you must have a good
trousseau. No one can call me extravagant, but I am determined not to
let you leave home without seeing that you are well supplied, and have
everything that you need."
Mellicent's eyes brightened with expectation.
"That's right, mother, that's right! That's the way to talk to her. If
it's too painful to her feelings to buy nice things, you and I will go
up to town and get them for her. Just wait until it comes to _my_ turn,
and won't I enjoy myself just! Oh, dear me, how miserable I've been
many and many a time reading those wonderful accounts of trousseaux in
the newspapers, and thinking that I should never, never have the things
for my own! Dozens of hats, dozens of jackets, parasols to match every
dress, and as for blouses, hundreds, my dears, literally hundreds, of
every sort and description!"
"Wicked waste and extravagance," Esther said severely. "I have often
wondered how brides in high position can show such a want of taste and
nice feeling in first wasting so much money, and then making a public
show of what is a purely personal matter. It's beautiful and poetic to
prepare new garments for the new home, but it's vulgar and prosaic to
make a show of them to satisfy public curiosity. If I could afford it a
hundred times over, I would not condescend to such folly. Would you,
Peggy? Whom do you agree with now, Mellicent or me?"
"Both," said Peggy calmly. "I would have no exhibition of my fineries,
but I'd love to have them all the same, and would thoroughly enjoy the
selection. What is more. I believe you will yourself, for, having once
forgotten yourself so far as to get engaged, there is no saying what
folly you may descend to; but whatever you do, dear, I'll help you, and
come over on the eventful morn, to see that your wreath is not put on
_too_ tidily, and to give a few artistic touches to your painfully neat
attire. You will let me be with you on your wedding morning, won't
you?"
"Indeed I will! I shall want every one I love around me to share in my
happiness; and you, dear Peg, are associated with some of the brightest
recollections of my childhood."
"Oh, good gracious, now they are getting sentimental! I am going out
into the garden to eat gooseberries!" cried Mellicent, jumping up from
her seat and rushing out of the room. Mrs Asplin hesitated for a
moment, and then followed suit, and the two girls who were left behind
looked at one another with shy, embarrassed glances. For the first time
since the announcement of the great news they were alone together, and
each waited bashfully for the other to speak. Naturally, however, it
was Peggy who first broke the silence.
"Then you thought it well over, Esther," she said slowly, "and decided
that you would rather marry the professor than go on with your work?
You were so full of ambition for the future and so interested in your
plans that it must have been difficult to give them up and resign
yourself to a quiet domestic life. But I suppose you are quite sure."
Esther smiled with that ineffable superiority of experience which
divides the engaged girl from her old associates.
"I never thought it over. I never `decided' or `resigned myself' or
anything of the kind. Edward wanted me, and that was enough. There was
not room in my mind to think of anything but him. To be with him and
help him is all I care for now."
"And it was no effort, none at all, to give up what you had worked for
all your life? When he asked you to marry him, and you thought of your
work, had you no hesitation, no qualm?"
"I--I never thought of it! I forgot all about it!" said Esther,
blushing; and Peggy bent forward to kiss her with a smile on her lips
and a tear in her eye.
"You dear thing! I am so glad! I am so glad! It is all just as it
should be, and I can see you are going to be an ideal Darby and Joan.
You will forgive me, won't you, for saying that his collar was dusty,
for how was I ever to guess that he was going to belong to you? I much
admire the classical outline of his features, and I'll make a point of
studying it exclusively in the future, and never allow my eyes to wander
to his garments. After all, what is dust, that it should be allowed to
affect our estimate of a fellow-creature? He may be as dusty as he
likes, Esther, my dear, and I shall never breathe a word of reproach to
you on the subject."
"Much obliged, but your generosity is unnecessary. You will never see
_my_ husband dusty, if I know it!" cried Esther in disdain, and blushed
so prettily at the sound of that magic word that Peggy capered round the
room in delight, humming an air the while which was intended to be the
Wedding March, but which was, alas! so lamentably out of tune that
Esther congratulated herself that, even if overheard, it would never be
recognised by the beloved listener in the garden.