by L. T. Meade
CHAPTER VII
Father did not come to see me on Saturday night, although I hopedagainst hope that he would do so, but, to my great surprise, on Sundayevening he walked in, just as Lady Carrington was preparing to go out toevening service. I had refused to accompany her--I am afraid I mademyself unpleasant to my kind friend on that occasion. I was overcome bythe shock I had received, and this fresh and most unexpected partingfrom father, so that I could only centre my thoughts on myself.
Father bustled into the house, and I heard his cheerful voice in thehall.
"Hallo!" he said. "And how is the little woman?"
Lady Carrington dropped her voice to a whisper, and father began to talkin low tones. Then they both approached the room where I was lying on asofa by the fire. I was feeling cold and chilled, and the little colourI had ever boasted of in my face had completely left me. Now, as I heardsteps coming nearer and nearer, my heart beat in a most tumultuousfashion. Then father and Lady Carrington entered the room.
"Heather, here's your father," said my kindest friend. "Sir John and Iare going to church, so you will have him quite to yourself. Now, cheerup, dear. By the way, Major Grayson, won't you stay and have supper withus afterwards?"
"Will Carbury be here?" asked my father suddenly.
"Yes, I think so. We asked him to come."
"Then I'd better not--better not, you know." He exchanged glances withLady Carrington, and I noticed a delicate wave of colour filling hersmooth and still girlish cheeks. She went away the next moment, and leftfather and me alone.
"Well, pussy cat," he said, looking down at me, "what is the meaning ofall this rebellion? I didn't know you were such a queer little girl."
"Oh, father!" I said.
"Well, here is father. What does the little one want him to do?"
"Pet me, pet me, pet me," I said, and I gave a great sob between eachword.
"Why, Heather, you are as great a baby as ever! Lady Helen says you arethe most babyish creature she has ever come across in her life. My word,Heather, if you but knew it, you are in luck to have such a stepmother.I tell you, my child, you are in wonderful luck, for she is downrightsplendid!"
"Please--please--may I say something?" My voice shook violently.
"Of course you may, little mite."
"Don't let us talk of her to-night. I'll try very hard to be goodto-morrow, if you will promise not to speak of her once to-night."
"It's hard on me, for my thoughts are full of her, but I'll endeavour toobey your small Majesty."
Then I sprang into his arms, and cuddled him round the neck, and kissedhis cheek over and over again.
"Oh, I am so hungry for your love!" I said.
"Poor mite! You will have two people to love instead--oh! Iforgot--'mum's' the word. Now then, Heather, let's look at you. Why,you're a washed-out little ghost of a girl! Even Aunt Penelope would beshocked if she saw you now."
"Never mind Aunt Penelope just for the present," I said. "I have somuch to say to you, and this is the very last evening."
"Not a bit of it; there are hundreds of other evenings to follow."
"Oh, no," I said; "this is the very last between you and me, quite toourselves, Daddy."
"I like to hear you say 'Daddy'--you have such a quaint little voice. Doyou know, Heather, that when I was--when I was--"
"When you were what, Daddy?"
"Never mind; I was forgetting myself. I have lived through a great dealsince you last saw me, child, since that time when you were so ill atPenelope Despard's."
"Weren't you enjoying yourself during those long years in India, Daddy?"
"Enjoying myself? Bless you, the discipline was too severe." Here myfather burst out laughing, and then he unfastened my arms from his neckand put me gently down on the sofa and began to pace the room.
"As a wild beast enjoys himself in a cage, so did I, little Heather; butit's over, thank Heaven, it's over; and--oh, dash it!--I can't speak ofit! Heather, how do you like your new clothes?"
"I haven't any new clothes," I answered demurely, "except the littleblack frock you gave me the night I came to you at the Westminsterhotel. I put that on every evening because Lady Carrington wearssomething pretty at dinner-time."
"But what have you done with all your other clothes?"
"I told you, Daddy, I wouldn't wear them. _She_ gave them to me."
"Now, look here, Heather, once and for all you must stop this folly. Ipresume you don't want me to cease to love you. Well, you've got to begood to your stepmother, and you have got to accept the clothes shegives you. She and I are taking a beautiful house in a fashionable partof London and you are to live with us, and she will be nice to you ifyou will be nice to her--not otherwise, you understand--by no meansotherwise. And if I see you nasty to her, or putting on airs, why, I'llgive you up. You'll have to take her if you want to keep me, and that'sthe long and short of it."
I trembled all over; my hero of heroes--was he tumbling from his placein my gallery?
"Promise, child, promise," said my father, brusquely.
"Will it make you happy if I do?" I said.
"Yes. I'll call you my little duck of all girls--I'll love you likeanything, but we three must be harmonious. You will stay here until wecome back, and on the day we come back you are to be in the new house tomeet us, and you are to wear one of your pretty frocks, and you are todo just what _she_ says. It's your own fault, Heather, that I have tobring in her name so often. Bless her, though, the jewel she is! Mylittle love, we'll be as happy as the day is long. It's terriblyold-fashioned, it's low down, to abuse stepmothers now--don't youunderstand that, Heather?"
"I don't," I answered. "I suppose I must do what you wish, for I cannotlive without you, but if--if--I find it _quite_ past bearing--may I goback to Aunt Penelope?"
"Bless me, you won't find it past bearing! We need not contemplate suchan emergency."
"But, promise me, Daddy darling--if I do find it past bearing, may I goback to Aunt Penelope?"
"Oh, yes, yes, yes--anything to quiet you, child. You are just the mostfractious and selfish creature I ever came across. You don't seem torealise for a single minute what anybody else is feeling."
"It's settled, and I will try to be happy," I said.
"That's right. Now, let's talk of all sorts of funny things. I haven'thalf heard about your different Jonases, nor about the parrot, who wouldonly say, 'Stop knocking at the door!'"
"Daddy," I said, with great earnestness, "may I have Anastasia back? Itwould give me great, great help if she came back."
"Bless me!" said my father, rubbing his red face, "I must ask herladyship. I'll see about it; I'll see about it, little woman. Now, then,stand up and let me look at you."
I stood up. I was wearing my snuff-coloured dress, and the electriclight and the firelight mingled, fell over a desolate, forlorn, littlefigure.
"Run upstairs this minute, Heather, and put on one of your prettyfrocks. I know for a certainty they haven't gone back, because I toldLady Carrington she was to keep them. Find a servant who can tell youwhere they are, and put one on, and come down and let me see you in it."
He smiled at me. Surely there never was anyone with such a bewitchingsmile. You felt that you would cut your heart out to help him when hegave you that smile, that you would lie down at his feet to be trampledon when he looked at you with that expression in his bright blue eyes.
I went upstairs very slowly. Lady Carrington's maid happened to be in,and I said to her, in a forlorn voice:
"I want one of my pretty new frocks. May I have it?"
The woman gave me a lightning glance of approval, and presently I wasdressed in softest, palest, shimmering grey, which fell in long foldsaround my young person. I held it up daintily, and ran downstairs.
"There's my rose in June!" said father, and he came and took me in hisarms. He chatted in his old fashion after that, but he went away beforeLady Carrington returned from church. She came back, accompanied byCaptain Carbury. I was in the
drawing-room then, and there was plenty ofcolour in my cheeks, for father's visit had excited me a great deal.Captain Carbury gave me a wistful glance and drew a chair near mine.
"Do you know what I was thinking of?" he said, suddenly.
"What?" I asked.
"That it would be very nice after the wedding to-morrow----"
I shivered, and clutched my chair to keep myself from falling. I felthis dark eyes fixed on my face.
"After the ceremony to-morrow," he continued, "if you and LadyCarrington and I went to Hampton Court to spend the day. We will go downin my motor-car, come back afterwards and dine in town, and then go tothe theatre. What do you think? I know Lady Carrington is quiteagreeable."
"Do you want me to go, Captain Carbury?"
"Yes, I want you very much."
"Well, I will do it, if it pleases you," I said.
He looked steadily at me, then he bent forward--he dropped his voice.
"I, too, have a gallery," he said, "in which I place, not my famousheroes, but my famous heroines, and just at this moment, when you gaveup your real will to mine and--forgot yourself--I put you in."
"Oh, thank you," I said, and my eyes brimmed with tears.
Captain Carbury went away early, and after he had gone Lady Carringtonsat down by my side and began to talk to me.
"You and he are famous friends," she said, "and I am so glad. Perhaps Iought to tell you, however, that Vernon is engaged to a most charminggirl. I know he will want you to meet her--they are to be married nextsummer."
"Oh, I hope she is good enough for him."
"I hope so also. Her name is Lady Dorothy Vinguard. She is beautifuland--and rich--and her people live in a lovely place in Surrey."
Suddenly a memory flashed through my mind.
I asked a question:
"Why did father say he would not meet Captain Carbury to-night atsupper?" I said.
Lady Carrington coloured. She got up and poked the fire quitevigorously.
"Why are you getting so red?" I said. "Why would not father meet him?"
"You see, he is an army man," answered Lady Carrington.
"But that has nothing to do with it," I replied. "Father's in the army,too."
"Don't ask so many questions, Heather."
"Has father a reason for not wanting to see him?"
"He may have, dear, but if he has I cannot tell you."
"That means you won't," I replied.
"Very well--I won't."
