losesanything."
He stooped as he spoke to pick it up, but the object that met his handwas not at all what he had expected. The sparkle which had attractedhim was that of diamonds of a kind, certainly, but the jewel wasattached to something else, much more ponderous, though small and daintyenough for what it was--a shoe!
It had lain in the shadow, all of it except the front, on which the oldpaste buckle had glittered in the moonlight--it had once been a slipperof gleaming white satin, but time had slightly dimmed its brightness.Sir Philip took it into the light of the lamp--there was no servantabout just then--and examined it curiously. Gradually a smile brokeover his features.
"Ah," he thought, "my allusion to Cinderella this evening seems to havebeen prophetic. I shall pocket this treasure. It is Miss Wyndham's, Iknow, I remember noticing the buckles when she was dancing, and therather old-world look of the slippers. Upon my word, it is like afairy-tale. The shoes must have been too big for her."
He was quiet and rather absent when he returned to his cousin Ermine,but had evidently got over his annoyance.
"You were in time then to say good-night to your friends, I hope?" askedErmine with some curiosity.
"No--at least, not exactly," he replied. "But it doesn't matter."
CHAPTER ELEVEN.
AFTER THE BALL.
"Good-night, and good-bye for the present, though I shall be coming overto Coombesthorpe in a day or two. I am going home very early to-morrowmorning, before any of you good people will be stirring," said SirPhilip to his cousins, when, all the guests save those staying in thehouse having departed, these last were dispersing for the night.
"You're in a fidget about Aunt Anna," said Ermine. "I can see it,Phil--you should have more trust in my assurances."
"I have--unlimited; still I shall be more comfortable when I have seenher, I confess," he said.
"Well, come over as soon as you can," said Madelene. "You know," shewent on, "you haven't forgotten that our sister--Ella--is with us?"
There was a tone of constraint in her voice which Sir Philip perceivedat once.
"Poor Maddie," he thought, "she is too good to say so, but I can see--Ifeel sure--that that child is a great torment to her." And "No indeed,"he went on, "worse luck. I have not forgotten that fact."
"Phil!" Ermine exclaimed, but there was a mischievous look in her eyeswhich would have puzzled her cousin had he seen it clearly.
"You should not be prejudiced, Philip," said Madelene gravely.
"But I am, and I can't help it," he retorted.
"At least you must own to some curiosity on the subject," said Ermine."You will come over soon?"
"Of course. I want to hear and ask scores of things," he replied. "No,I am not curious at all, except so far as your comfort is concerned.Have you found it possible to carry out my suggestion and keep her inthe schoolroom in the meantime?"
"Better still," said Ermine, her eyes dancing unmistakably. "We havefor the present relegated her to the _nursery_."
She dropped her voice somewhat, and glanced round her as if anxious notto be overheard. Philip raised his eyebrows in surprise, but a look ofrelief overspread his countenance at the same time.
"Oh, come," he said, "that's almost too good to be true! What aphenomenon she must be--I am really beginning to feel curious. But Imustn't keep you chattering here any longer. They'll all be wonderingwhat secrets we've got."
He was true to his word. The next morning, clear, cold and frosty, sawhim betimes on his way to Cheynesacre. He had taken it into his head towalk over, leaving word that he would send for his luggage in the courseof the day, and in a modified degree carry out his original intention of"surprising" his grandmother, by marching in upon her at her solitarybreakfast. For notwithstanding her unwonted dissipation of the nightbefore he felt pretty confident of finding Lady Cheynes at her usualplace at table at her usual hour of ten.
Nor was he disappointed. He had the satisfaction in the first place ofconsiderably startling the "Barnes" of the Cheynesacre establishment,and leaving him aghast in the hall, walked coolly on into thedining-room.
A bright fire was blazing on the hearth, the kettle was singing, theround table with its snowy cloth was spread ready for breakfast, and atit, reading her letters as usual, sat Lady Cheynes.
"Granny," said Philip in the doorway.
The old lady started.
"My boy," she exclaimed, "you must have got up in the middle of thenight, or perhaps you haven't been to bed at all, after your gaydoings."
"It strikes me, granny, that my gay doings are nothing to yours. I'mglad to see you looking just like yourself, but it really was too bad ofyou not to let me know in time last night that you were there."
He stooped to kiss Lady Cheynes as he spoke; she looked up with a smile.
"You were enjoying yourself; I didn't want to interrupt you. It was asudden thought of mine; I did not stay long," the old lady replied,speaking less deliberately than her wont.
"I can't conceive what put it in your head to go at all," he said, as heseated himself. "I'm tremendously hungry, granny. I walked over, and Imust send Symes for my luggage. I meant to have given you a surprise;you didn't expect me till next week, did you?"
"No, of course not. I'm not very fond of surprises as a rule, butstill, as it has happened I'm glad you're here. It seems a shame tobegin working you the moment you arrive, but will you go over toWeevilscoombe this morning for me to speak to Mr Brander about Layton'slease? It will save me from writing a letter which after all wouldprobably not have made things clear."
Sir Philip tapped his boots with his cane reflectively.
"This morning?" he said. "I suppose to-morrow wouldn't do? I want togo over to Coombesthorpe to-day if I can."
"I am afraid to-morrow would not do," said his grandmother. "I shouldlike you to be at Mr Brander's by twelve. I am going over toCoombesthorpe myself, so I can tell them you will be there to-morrow.Indeed I don't think Maddie and Ermine will be home till this evening._I_ am going to see their father, who has been seriously ill."
"And that child--I'm delighted to hear she _is_ such a child still,"said Philip. "I suppose you look after her when the girls are away."
"Yes," said Lady Cheynes, dryly. "I do. But who told you she was `sucha child'?"
"Ermine. She said that not the schoolroom even, but the _nursery_ wasElla's proper place," replied Philip, honestly believing that he wasliterally repeating Ermine's words.
"Indeed!" said Lady Cheynes slightly raising her eyebrows.
Then the bell was rung and Sir Philip's dog-cart ordered to be round inhalf an hour.
"In the meantime," said his grandmother, "if you will come to the study,I will explain to you the points which I wish Brander clearly tounderstand." Philip sauntered to the study.
"Granny is even more than commonly energetic," he said to himself, as hestood at the window gazing out at the wintry landscape while he waitedfor her. "However--I wonder if by any chance she knows anything aboutthat lovely little personage last night! She has such quick eyes, Iexpect she noticed her--she could hardly have failed to do so. I expectthe small princess is in trouble about her shoe this morning! It lookslike a family heirloom."
He drew it out of his pocket and looked at it--yes, by daylight itseemed even quainter. The satin was a rich creamy yellow, and thebuckle was of curiously antique form.
"Granny could tell the date to a year," he thought to himself. All thesame, he slipped the shoe back to its hiding place pretty sharply whenhe heard the door handle turn and his grandmother enter the room.
He would have been rather astonished had he overheard the directions shehad just been giving to her trusty Jones.
"I don't wish Miss Ella to know of Sir Philip's return," she said."Take her her breakfast when she wakes--I told her to ring for it--andtell her that the carriage will be round as soon as she is dressed. Iam going to drive back to Coombesthorpe with her, myself."
Then the
old lady rejoined her grandson in the study and kept himimmersed in her instructions to Mr Brander, till his dog-cart wasannounced.
"You will probably stay to luncheon with him," she said. "You may aswell, for you would not find me at home. I am going to lunch atCoombesthorpe."
"Then tell them," Sir Philip began,--"oh no, by the by, you will not seethe girls?"
"Perhaps I shall--I may wait till they return."
"Tell them I shall be over to-morrow, then. They were looking very welllast
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