CHAPTER XXIV
WHO PLAYS, PAYS
It must be confessed that the flicker of skirts with which Lady Bettyran down the steps when she started for her airing, still more acertain toss of the head that was its perfect complement, gave hermischievous soul huge delight; for she had watched a French maid, andknew them to be pure nature, and the very quintessence of the singingchambermaid's art. It was not impossible that as she executed them shehad a person in her eye and meant him to profit by them; for by-and-byshe repeated the performance at a point where two paths diverged, andwhere it put the fitting close to a very pretty pause of indecision.Tom was so hard on her heels that ordinary ears must have detected histread; but that my lady heard nothing was proved by the fact that shechose the more retired track and tripped along it, humming and dartingfrom flower to flower like some dainty insect let loose among thebracken.
She plucked at will, and buried her shapely little nose in theblossoms; she went on, she stopped, she went on again, and Tom let hergo; until the path, after winding round a low spreading oak thatclosed the view from the house, began to descend into a sunny dellwhere it ran, a green ribbon of sward, through waist-high fern, leaptthe brook by a single plank, and scaled the steeper side by tinyzig-zags.
On the hither side of this summer hollow, sleepy with the warm hum ofbees and scent of thyme, Tom overtook her, and never sure was any oneso surprised and overwhelmed as this poor maid.
"La, sir, I declare you frightened my heart into my mouth," she cried,pressing a white hand to her bodice and looking timidly at him fromthe shelter of her straw hat. "I'm sure I beg your pardon, sir," witha curtsey. "I would not have come here, if I'd known, for the world."
"No, child?"
"No, sir, indeed I would not!"
"And why not?" Tom asked pertinently. "Why should you not come here?"
"Why?" she retorted, properly scandalised. "What! Come where thefamily walk? I should hope I know my place better than that, sir. Andto behave myself in it."
"Very prettily, I am sure," Tom declared, with a bold stare ofadmiration.
"As becomes me, sir, I hope," Betty answered demurely, and to showthat the stare had no effect upon her, primly turned her head away.
"Though you were brought up with your mistress? Or was it with yourlate mistress?" Tom asked slily. "Or have you forgotten which it was,Betty?"
"I hope I've never forgotten any one who was kind to me," shewhispered, her head drooping so that he could not see her face."There's not many think of a poor girl in service; though I come ofsome that ha' seen better days."
"Indeed, Betty. Is that so?"
"So I've heard, sir."
"Well, will you count me among your friends, Betty?"
"La, no, sir!" with vivacity, and she shot him with an arch glance. "Ishould think not indeed! I should like to know why, sir?" and shetossed her head disdainfully. "But there, I've talked too long. I'msure her ladyship would not like it, and asking your pardon, sir, I'llgo on."
"But I'm coming your way."
"No, sir."
"But I am," Tom persisted. "Why shouldn't I? You are not afraid of me,child? You were not afraid of me in the dark on the hill, when we saton the tree together, and you wore my coat."
Betty sighed. "'Twas different then, sir," she murmured, hanging herhead, and tracing a pattern on the sward with the point of her toe.
"Why?"
"I'd no choice, sir."
"Then you would choose to leave me, would you?"
"And I didn't know that you belonged to the family," she continued,evading the question, "or I should not have made so free, sir. Andbesides, asking your pardon, you told me that you had seen enough ofwomen to last you your life, sir. You know you did."
"Oh, d----n!" Tom cried. The reminder was not welcome.
Betty recoiled virtuously. "There, sir," she cried, "now I know whatyou think of me! If I were a lady, you'd not have said that to me,I'll be bound. Swearing, indeed? For shame, sir! But I'm for home, andnone too soon!"
"No, no!" Tom cried. "Don't be silly!"
"It's yes, yes, sir, by your leave," she retorted. "I'm none such afool as you'd make me. That shows me what you think of me."
And turning with an offended air, she began to retrace her steps. Tomcalled to her, but fruitlessly. She did not answer nor pause. He hadto follow her, feeling small and smaller. A little farther, and theywould be again within sight of the house.
The track was narrow, the fern on each side grew waist high; he couldnot intercept her without actual violence. At length, "See here,child," he said humbly, "if you'll turn and chat a bit, I'll persuadeyou it was not meant. I'll treat you every bit as if you were a lady.I swear I will!"
"I don't know," she cried. "I don't know that I can trust you." Butshe went more slowly.
"'Pon honour I will," he protested. "I swear I will!"
She stopped at that, and turned to him. "You will?" she saiddoubtfully. "You really will? Then will you please----" with acharming shyness, "pick me a nosegay to put in my tucker, as my lady'sbeaux used to do? I should like to feel like a lady for once," shecontinued eagerly. "'Twould be such a frolic as you gentlefolk have,sir, when you pretend to be poor milk-maids and make syllabub, andwill not have a bandbox or a hoop-petticoat near you!"
"Your ladyship shall have a nosegay," Tom answered gaily. "But I mustfirst see the colour of your eyes that I may match them."
She clapped her hands in a rapture. "Oh, how you act, to be sure!" shecried. "'Tis too charming. And for my eyes, sir, it's no more thanmatching wools." And she looked at him shyly, dropping a curtsey thewhile.
"Oh, isn't it?" he retorted. "Matching wools indeed. Wool does notchange, nor shift its hues. Nor glance, nor sparkle, nor ripple likewater running now on the deeps, now on the shallows. Nor mirror theclouds, nor dance like wheat in the sunshine. Nor melt like summer,"he continued rapidly, "nor freeze like the Arctic. Nor say a thousandthings in a thousand seconds."
"La! And do my eyes do all that?" Betty cried, opening them very widein her innocent astonishment. "What a thing it is, to be sure, to be alady. I declare, sir, you are quite out of breath with the fine thingsyou've said. All the same they are blue in the main, and I'll haveforget-me-nots, if you please, sir. There's plenty in the brook, andwhile your honour fetches them I'll sit here and do nothing, like thegentlefolks."
The brook ran a hundred paces below them, and the sun was hot in thedell, but Tom had no fair excuse. He ran down with a good grace, andin five minutes was back again, his hands full of tiny blossoms.
"They're like a bit of the sky," said Betty, as he pinned them in herbodice.
"Then they are like your eyes, sweet," he answered, and he stooped topay himself for the compliment with a kiss.
But Betty slipped from him without betraying, save by a sudden blush,that she understood.
"DO YOU SIT, AND I'LL MAKE YOU A POSY"]
"Now, it's my turn," she cried gaily. "Do you sit, and I'll make you aposy!" And humming an air she floated through the fern to a tree ofwild cherry that hung low boughs to meet the fern and fox-gloves. Shebegan to pluck the blossom while Tom watched her and told himself thatnever was sweeter idyll than this, nor a maid more entrancingly fair,nor eyes more blue, nor lips more inviting, nor manners more daintilysweet and naive. He sighed prodigiously, for he swore that not for theworld would he hurt her, though it was pretty plain how it would go ifhe chose, and he knew that
Pride lures the little warbler from the skies! The light-enamoured bird eluded dies.
And--and then, while his thoughts were full of this, he saw her comingback, her arms full of blossom.
"Lord, child!" he cried, "you've plucked enough for a Jack o' theGreen."
She shot an arch glance at him. "It is for my Jack o' the Green," shemurmured.
He ogled her and she blushed. But he had his misgivings when he sawthat she was making a nosegay as big as his
head. Present it was done,and she found a pin and advanced upon him.
"But you're not going to put that on me!" he cried. He had a boy'shorror of the ridiculous.
She stopped, offended. "Oh," she said, "if you don't wish it?" andwith lips pouting and tears ill-repressed, she turned away.
He sprang up. "My dear child, I do wish it!" he cried. "'Pon honour Ido! But it's--it's immense."
She did not answer. Already she was some way up the slope. He ranafter her, and told her he would wear it, begged her to pin it forhim.
She stood looking at him languidly.
"Are you sure?" she said.
He vowed he was by all his gods, and still pouting she pinned theflowers to the breast of his coat. Now, if ever, he thought was hisopportunity. Alas, the nosegay was so large, the cherry twigs of whichit was composed were so stiff and sharp, he might as well have kissedher over a hedge! It was provoking in the last degree, and so were hersmiling lips. And yet--he could not be angry with her. The veryartlessness with which she had made up this huge cabbage and fixed iton him was one charm the more.
"There," she said, stepping back and viewing him with innocentsatisfaction, "I'm sure a real lady could not have managed thatbetter. It does not prick your chin, does it?"
"No, child."
"And it isn't in your way? Of course, if it is in your way, sir?"
"No, no!"
"That's well. I'm so glad." And with a final nod of approval--withthat, and no more--Betty turned, actually turned, and began to walkback towards the Hall.
Tom stood, looking after her in astonishment. "But you are not going?"he cried.
"To be sure, sir," she answered, looking back and smiling, "my lady'llbe waiting for me."
"What? This minute?"
"Indeed, sir, and indeed, sir, yes, it is late already," she said."But you can come with me a little way, if you like," she addedmodestly. And she looked back at him.
He was angry. He had even a suspicion, a small, but growing suspicion,that she was amusing herself with him! But he could not withstand herglance; and as she turned for the last time, he made after her. Heovertook her in a few strides, and fell in beside her. But he sulked.His vanity was touched, and willing to show her that he was offended,he maintained a cold silence.
On a sudden he caught the tail of her eye fixed on him, saw that shewas shaking with secret laughter; and felt his cheeks begin to burn.The conviction that the little hussy was making fun of him, that shehad dared to put this great cabbage upon him for a purpose, burst onhim in a flash. It pricked his vanity to the very quick. His heartburned as well as his face; but if she thought to have all thelaughing on her side he would teach her better! He lagged a step ortwo behind, and stealthily tore off the hateful nosegay. The nextmoment his hot breath was on her neck, his arm was round her; anddespite her scream of rage, despite her frantic, furious attempt topush him away, he held her to him while he kissed her twice.
"There, my girl," he cried, as he released her with a laugh oftriumph. "That's for making fun of me."
For answer she struck him a sounding slap on the cheek; and as herecoiled, surprised by her rage, she dealt him another on his ear.
Tom's head rung. "You cat!" he cried. "I've a good mind to takeanother! And I will if you don't behave yourself!"
But the little madcap's face of scarlet fury, her eyes blazing withpassion, daunted him. "How dare you?" she hissed. "How dare you touchme? You creature! You----" And then, even in the same breath and whilehe stared, she turned and was gone, leaving the sentence unfinished;and he watched her flee across the sward, a tumultuous raging littlefigure, with hanging hat, and hair half down, and ribbons that flewout and spoke her passion.
Tom was so taken by surprise he did not attempt to follow, much lessto detain her. His sister's maid to take a kiss so? A waiting-woman? Achit of a servant? And after she had played for it, as it seemed tohim, aye, and earned it and over-earned it by her impudent trick andher confounded laughter. He had never been so astonished in his life.The world was near its end, indeed, if there was to be this botherabout a kiss. Why, his head hummed, and his cheek would show the markfor an hour to come. Nor was that the worst. If she went to the housein that state and published the thing, he would have an awkward fiveminutes with his sister. Hang the prude! And yet what a charminglittle vixen it was.
He stood awhile in the sunshine, boring the turf with his heel,uncertain what to do. At length, feeling that anything was better thansneaking there, like a boy who had played truant and feared to gohome, he started for the Hall. He would not allow that he was afraid,but as he approached the terrace he had an uneasy feeling; first ofthe house's many windows, and then of an unnatural silence thatprevailed about it, as if something had happened or was preparing. Toprove his independence he whistled, but he whistled flat, and stopped.
Outside he met no one, and he plucked up a spirit. After all the girlwould not be such a fool as to tell. And what was there to tell? Akiss? What was a kiss? But the moment he was out of the glare and overthe threshold of the Hall, he knew that she had told. For there in thecool shadow stood Sophia waiting for him, and behind her Sir Hervey,seated on a corner of the great oak table and whistling softly.
Sophia's tone was grave, her face severe. "Tom," she said, "what haveyou been doing?"
"I?" he cried.
"Yes, you, young man," his brother-in-law answered sharply. "I see noone else."
"Why, what's the bother?" Tom asked sulkily. "If you mean about thegirl, I kissed her, and what's the harm? I'm not the first that'sstolen a kiss."
"Oh, Tom!"
"And I sha'n't be the last."
"Nor the last that'll get his face smacked!" Sir Hervey retortedgrimly.
Tom winced. "She has told you that, has she?" he muttered.
"No," Sir Hervey answered. "Your cheek told me."
Tom winced again. "Well, we're quits then," he said sullenly. "Sheneedn't have come Polly Peachuming here!"
Sophia could contain herself no longer. "Oh, Tom, you don't know whatyou have done," she cried impetuously. "You don't indeed. You thoughtshe was my maid. You took her for my woman that night we were out, youknow--and she let you think it."
"Well?"
"But she is not."
"Then," Tom cried in a rage, "who the devil is she?"
"She's Lady Betty Cochrane, the duke's daughter."
"And the apple of his eye," Sir Hervey added with a nod. "I tell youwhat, my lad, I would not be in your shoes for something."
Tom stared, gasped, seemed for a moment unable to take it in. But thenext, a wicked gleam shone in his eyes, and he smacked his lips.
"Well, Lady Betty or no, I've kissed her," he cried. "I've kissed her,and she can't wipe it off!"
"You wicked boy!" Sophia cried, with indignation. "Do you considerthat she was my guest, under my care, and you have insulted her?Grossly and outrageously insulted her, sir! She leaves to-morrow inconsequence, and what am I to say to her people? What am I to tellthem? Oh, Tom, it was cruel! it was cruel of you!"
"I'm afraid," Sir Hervey said, with a touch of sternness, "you wererough with her."
Tom's momentary jubilation died away. His face was gloomy.
"I'll say anything you like," he muttered doggedly, "except that I'msorry, for I'm not. But I'll beg her pardon humbly. Of course, Ishould not have done it if I'd known who she was."
"She won't see you," Sophia answered.
"You might try her again," Sir Hervey suggested, beginning to take theculprit's part. "Why not? She need not see Tom or speak to him unlessshe wishes."
"I'll try," Sophia answered; and she went and presently came back.Lady Betty would stay, and, of course, "she couldn't forbid Sir ThomasMaitland his sister's house." But she desired that all intercoursebetween them should be restricted to the barest formalities.
Tom looked glum. "Look here," he said, "if she'll see me alone I'llbeg her pardon, and let us have done with it!"
"She won't see you alone! It is
particularly that she wishes toavoid."
"All right," Tom answered sulkily. But he made up his mind that beforemany hours elapsed he would catch my lady and make her come to termswith him.
He was mistaken, however; as he was also in his expectation that whenthey met she would be covered with shame and confusion of face. Whenthe time came it was he who was embarrassed. The young lady appeared,and was an icicle; stiff, pale and reserved, she made it clear thatshe did not desire to speak to him, did not wish to look at him, andmuch preferred to take things at table from any hand but his. Beyondthis she did not avoid his eyes, and in hers was no shadow ofconsciousness. Tom's face grew hot where she had slapped it, hechafed, fretted, raged, but he got no word with her. He was shut out,he was not of the party, she made him feel that; and at the end oftwenty-four hours he was her serf, her slave, watching her eye,consumed with a desire to throw himself at her feet, ready toanticipate her wishes, as a dog those of his master, anxious to abasehimself no matter how low, if she would give him a word or a look.
Even Sir Hervey marvelled at her coldness and perfect self-control. "Isuppose she likes him," he said, as he and Sophia walked on theterrace that evening.
"She did, I fancy," Sophia answered, "before this happened."
"And now?"
"She does not like him. I'm sure of that."
"But she may love him, you mean?" Sir Hervey said, interpreting hertone rather than her words.
"Yes, or hate him," she answered. "It is the one or the other."
"Since he kissed her?"
"Yes, I think so," and then on a sudden Sophia faltered. She felt theblood begin to rise to her cheeks in one of those blushes, the mosttrying of all, that commence uncertainly, mount slowly, but persist,and at length deepen into pain. She remembered that the man walkingbeside her, talking of these others' love affairs, had never kissedher! He must think, he could not but think, of their own case. Hemight even fancy that she meant her words for a hint.
He saw her distress, understood it, and took pity on her. But theabruptness with which he changed the conversation, and by-and-bywithdrew, persuaded her that he had read her thoughts, and long afterhe had left her, her face burned.
The whole matter, Tom's misbehaviour and the rest, had upset her; shetold herself that this was what ailed her and made her restless. Norwas she quick to regain her balance. She found the house, new as allthings in it were to her, dull and over-quiet; she found Lady Betty,once so lively, no company; she found Tom snappish and ill-tempered.And she blamed Tom for all; or told herself that town and the operaand the masquerade had spoiled her for a country life. She did not laythe blame elsewhere. Even to herself she did not admit that SirHervey, polite and considerate as he was, to the point of leaving hermuch to herself, would have pleased her better had he left her less.But she did think--and with soreness--that he would have been wiserhad he given her more frequent opportunities of learning to be at easewith him.
She did not go further than this even in her thoughts until three daysafter Tom's escapade. Then, feeling dull herself, she came on Tommoping on the terrace, and undertook to rally him on his humour. "Ifyou would really be in her good graces again, 'tis not the way to doit, Tom; I can tell you that," she said. "Laugh and talk, and she'llwish you. Pluck up a spirit, and 'twill win more on her than a millionsighs."
"What's the good?" he muttered sourly.
"Well, at any rate, you do no good by moping."
Tom sat silent awhile, his head buried between his hands, his elbowsresting on the balustrade. "I don't see that anything's any good," hemuttered at last. "We're both in one case, I think. You know your ownbusiness, I suppose. You know, I take it, what you were doing when youmarried in such a hurry; but I'm d----d," with sudden violence, "if Iunderstand it. Three weeks married, and put on one side for another!"
"Tom!"
"Oh, you may Tom me, you don't alter it," he answered roughly. "I amhanged if I understand or know what's a-foot. Here are you and Isitting at home like sick cats, and my lord and my lady up and downand in and out, as thick as thieves. That is what it comes to. 'Tisvastly pretty, isn't it?" Tom continued with a cynical laugh. "I thinkyou said she was under your protection. Oh, Lord."
Hitherto, astonishment had robbed Sophia of speech. But with Tom'slast word her sense of her duty to herself and to her husband awoke,and found her words.
"You wicked boy!" she cried with indignation. "You wicked, miserableboy! How dare you even think such things, much more say them, and saythem to me! Never hint at such things again if you wish to--to keepyour sister. Sir Hervey and I understand one another, you may be sureof that."
"Well, I am glad you do," Tom muttered. "For I don't!" But he spokeshamefacedly, and only to cover his discomfiture.
"We understand one another perfectly," Sophia replied with pride, anddrew herself to her full height. "For my friend, she is above yoursuspicions, as far above them as, I thank God, is my husband. No, notanother word, I have heard too much already. I don't wish to speak toyou again until you are in a better mind, sir."
She turned from him, crossed the terrace with her proudest step,and entered the house. But underneath she was panting with excitement,her head was in a whirl. She dared not think; and to avoidthought--thought that might lower her in her own eyes, thought thatmight wrong her husband--she hastened through the hall to thestill-room; and finding that the ash-keys which she had ordered to bedone with green whey had been boiled with white, was sharp with themaid, and tart with Mrs. Stokes. Thence she flew in a bustle up thewide staircase, and along the corridor under portraits of dead Cokes,to her room; but there, thought seemed inevitable, it was in vain shepaced the floor. And feverishly tying the strings of her hat shehurried down again, her face burning. She would walk.
At the outer door she paused. She saw that Tom was still there, andshe was unwilling to pass him, lest he read in this sudden activitythe sign of disturbance. The pause was fatal. A moment she stoodirresolute, fighting with herself and her cowardly impulses. Then sheopened the door of the grand drawing-room, and gliding like a culpritdown its shadowy length, opened the door of the smaller' room, andclosed that too behind her. This inner room was little used in thedaytime, and though the windows were open the curtains were drawnacross them. Stealthily, fearing to be observed, she raised the cornerof the nearest curtain and turned to look at Lady Anne's picture; thelodestone that had drawn her hither as the candle draws the moth. Butshe never looked; for as she turned she met her own face, pale,anxious, plain--yes plain--staring from the mirror at her shoulder,and what use to look after that? To look would not make Lady Anne lesscomely or herself more fair. She let the curtain fall.
But she stood. Some one was passing the open window. A voice she knewspoke, a second voice answered. And from where she stood Sophia heardtheir words as if they had spoken in the room.
Sophia: A Romance Page 27
