CHAPTER SIXTEEN.
KISMET.
When Sunday evening arrived Jack Melland was surprised to feel adistinct strain of regret in realising that it was the last evening heshould spend at the Court. He was still not only determined but eagerto return to his work at the beginning of the week, and had counted thehours until his release should arrive; but, as the days passed by, hehad become increasingly alive, not only to the beauty of hissurroundings but to the unusual charm of feminine society. After alonely life in London lodgings, it was an agreeable experience to comedownstairs to a perfectly appointed meal, set against a background oftapestry and oak, to be greeted by bright girlish faces, and kept amusedand interested from morning till night.
Mollie was a fascinating little creature--witty, audacious, and sweet--hearted, though, as yet, too much of a school-girl to be takenseriously. As for Ruth, she was a beauty, and might become dangerous toa man's peace of mind on a longer acquaintance. That was an additionalreason why Jack was set on leaving the Court, for, as she was obviouslyfirst favourite, it would be a distinct stroke of diplomacy for a man tolink his chances with hers. Jack's nostrils inflated in characteristicmanner as he told himself, that this would not be his fashion of goinga-wooing, but he was less scrupulous in prophesying for his neighbour."Druce will make love to her! she'll marry Druce!" he told himselfconfidently; and his thoughts flew ahead to the time when the youngcouple would reign over the Court, and dispense the favours which werenow in Bernard Farrell's hands.
Well, it was a goodly heritage! Even in seven short days several sceneshad printed themselves upon his memory. The drive across the park, withthe great north front of the house lying grey and chill in the distance;the south terrace flooded with sunshine; the gardens sloping to thelevel of the lake; and beyond them the open stretch of country. And inall probability Druce was to be the master of it all. He seemed a goodenough fellow, but was he worthy of the position, and of the wife whowould go with it? Would he make her happy?--the sweet, beautiful thing!Happiness did not come easily to her as it did to her sister. If herhusband neglected her, or fell short of her ideal, the wistfulexpression, which was one of her charms, would soon develop into asettled melancholy. Jack conjured up a vision of Ruth's face--emaciatedand woebegone--and felt a pang of regret, allied with somethingcuriously like remorse. It seemed as if by going away he weredeliberately leaving her to Druce's tender mercies, so certain did hefeel as to the result of the three months' companionship. For the firsttime a rankling doubt of the wisdom of his decision disturbed hiscomplacency. When he was back in his dingy lodgings would he thinklongingly of the Court, and reproach himself for having thrown aside thechance of a lifetime; and if the business failed, despite all hisefforts, and he found himself thrown adrift on the world, how should hefeel then, remembering what might have been?
These reflections brought a frown to Jack's brow, but he was too proudto show any sign of wavering to his companions; and in the old man'spresence was careful to make no allusion to the coming departure. OnMonday morning the subject was to be officially discussed; but, untilthe prescribed hour arrived, it would have been a brave man or woman whodared open it in Mr Farrell's presence.
As for Mr Farrell himself, so far from looking forward to the interviewwith foreboding, he seemed in an unusually amiable frame of mind as hetook the head of the table on Sunday evening, actually deigning toquestion his guests as to the day's doings, and the impressions whichthey had received. In their replies the young men were, as usual, briefand practical, Ruth tactfully reserved, and Mollie unflatteringlyhonest. But to-night Mr Farrell seemed determined to take no offence,and even vouchsafed a grim smile at the sound of the quaintly vigorouslanguage.
"You will have to curb that rebellious tongue of yours, my dear Mary, ifyou are to get through the next few weeks without trouble. The goodpeople about here are not accustomed to such picturesque exaggerations,and will take everything you say as literal fact, so you had betterbeware. You will probably have a number of visitors this week, so itwould be as well to arrange to be at home as much as possible in theafternoons. Calling is a more serious business in the country than intown; and when people have taken the trouble to drive eight or ninemiles, it is a disappointment to find nobody at home." He turnedtowards Jack, and continued: "Of course, this restriction does not applyto you, or to Druce. Your presence will not be expected; and if youagree with me, the further afield you can be, the better you will bepleased. There are some charming excursions which you could manage inan afternoon's ride, and, from what I hear, your horsemanship hasimproved so rapidly that you could easily manage them. Bates will behappy to give you any directions you may require; or, still better, toaccompany you as guide."
These remarks were so markedly addressed to Jack, that no one buthimself could venture to reply, and his self-will was so much ruffled bythe deliberate ignoring of his expressed determination that he wasinstantly aflame with wrath. His nostrils curved, his brows arched, hislips opened to pronounce a sharp disclaimer, when suddenly he caughtsight of Mollie's face gazing at him across the table; and if ever aface cried "Don't!" with all the eloquence of pleading eyes and partedlips, Mollie's said it at that moment. The message was so unmistakableand ardent that it demanded obedience, and to his own surprise Jackfound himself murmuring conventional words of thanks, instead of theheated disclaimer which he had intended.
Later on in the evening he followed Mollie into a corner of the drawing-room to demand a reason for her unspoken interference.
"It was not honest to seem to agree when I have no intention of beinghere for a single afternoon. Why wouldn't you let me speak?" hedemanded; whereupon Mollie pursed her lips, and said thoughtfully--
"I hardly know. You were going to be cross, and it is Sunday--our firstSunday here. I didn't want it to be spoilt by angry words. If you mustdisappoint the old man, do it gently. Don't answer back, even if he isannoying. You will be glad afterwards--when he is dead, and you havenothing to regret."
Jack looked down at her in silence. Was this the pert school-girl, whomhe had just deemed unworthy of serious consideration? The face intowhich he looked seemed of a sudden that of a woman rather than that of achild--soft and sweet, grave-eyed, with lovely, serious lips. The veryvoice was altered, and had an added richness of tone. It was likecatching a glimpse into the future, and beholding the woman that was tobe, when girlhood's bright span was over. Instinctively Jack's manneraltered to meet the change. The supercilious curve left his lip, hiskeen eyes softened.
"Thank you, Miss Mollie," he said gravely. "You are quite right. I'llremember!"
She thanked him with a luminous glance, and turned away; but he wantedto see her again, to hear her speak once more in that beautiful newvoice. Before she had taken three steps he called to her eagerly--
"Miss Mollie! One moment! I expect I shall be packed off, bag andbaggage, as soon as I have announced my decision; but Mr Farrell doesnot make his appearance until lunch-time, so we have a whole morningleft still. Will you come for a last ride with me after breakfast?"
"Yes," said Mollie simply.
Her heart beat high with pleasure, because Jack had assented so readilyto her request, because he had wished to spend his last hours in hersociety. For the moment she forgot the blank which would follow hisdeparture, and was wholly, unreservedly happy. It was the old,sparkling, girlish face which was turned upon him--the vision haddisappeared.
The next day neither Ruth nor Victor offered to join the riding-party,though they had not any settled plans for the forenoon. Mollie had toldher sister of Jack's invitation of the evening before, and Ruth was tooproud to make a third unless she were specially asked to do so. Shestrolled into the grounds to interview the gardener about sending in anextra supply of plants and flowers to beautify the house for theexpected callers, while Victor shut himself in the library to writeletters.
Jack looked well on horseback, as tall, upright men always do, andMollie glanced
at him admiringly, and thought regretfully of her newhabit, which was even now in the tailor's hands. It did seem hard thatshe should have to wear a shabby, ill-fitting coat while he was here,and that the new one should come home almost as soon as he had departed.Her sigh of self-commiseration brought his eyes upon her, and he sighedin echo as he cried--
"Last times are melancholy occasions! I hate them, even when theexperience has not been altogether pleasant. There is a sadness aboutturning over the leaf and ending another chapter of life. This chapterhas been a very short one, but uncommonly jolly. Don't think that Ihaven't appreciated it, because I am going away. I have enjoyed everyhour of this week, and when I am back on the treadmill I shall thinklongingly of you all many times over. I hope we may often meet again."
"It is not very likely, is it? You will go your way, and we will goours. Ruth and I have never been in London, nor you in Liverpool. Wemay all live until we are old and bald, and never meet again," saidMollie dismally; whereupon Jack looked at the shining plaits which werecoiled at the back of her head, and laughed reassuringly.
"I can't imagine you bald, nor old either, and I expect to see you manytimes over before you have the chance of changing. The Chosen, whoeverhe or she may be, must surely have the good manners to invite the restof us to visit a house which might have been our own; and I have aspecial claim, for by retiring from the lists I increase your chances.Personally, I have made up my mind to spend many holidays here--shootingand riding, and enjoying myself generally. I hope you won't object, ifyou happen to be the chatelaine?"
"Ah, but I shan't! I have no chance against the other two; but I alsointend to spend my holidays here, and I tell Ruth she must send homehampers every week. It has always been my ambition to get hampers, andshe could send such splendid ones from the Court--game and poultry andeggs, and nice out-of-season fruits and vegetables, which would be sucha help in the housekeeping! I am afraid sometimes that we count toomuch on Uncle Bernard's fancy for Ruth's eyebrows, for if he changed hismind and left everything to Mr Druce, it would be a terribledisappointment. And there are three months before us still. He maychange a dozen times yet."
"I think most probably he will. Better stick to your resolution, tohave a good time, and not bother your head about the future. I shall bemost anxious to know how things go. Druce has promised to send me aline now and then. Will you jog his memory in case he forgets?"
Mollie promised, all the more readily that Victor's letter wouldnaturally bring a return, which would serve to bridge over theseparation. It seems curious to remember that little over a week agoshe had not known of Jack Melland's existence. He had made but a briefappearance upon the scene, but it would not be easy to forget him, or tofill the vacant place.
Both riders relapsed into silence as they neared home; but, as theyclattered into the stable-yard, Jack turned towards Mollie with rather aforced air of triumph, and cried--
"Do you remember your warning, Miss Mollie, that Fate was stronger thanwill? Ever since we set out this morning the words have been ringing inmy ears, and I have been expecting some accident to happen which wouldkeep me here in spite of myself. I have looked for it at every turn ofthe road as if it were bound to come."
Mollie shivered nervously.
"Oh, how horrid! I am glad you did not tell me. I should have beennervous, too, for I am superstitious about presentiments. They so oftencome true."
"Well, this one at least has not. Here we are safe and sound, and allrisk is over!" cried Jack, dropping his reins, and jumping lightly fromthe saddle without waiting for the groom to come to the horse's head.
He was anxious to assist Mollie to dismount before Bates came up; buteven as his feet touched the ground he slipped, staggered uncertainlyfor a moment, and sank to the ground with a groan of pain. The groomrushed forward; Mollie leapt inelegantly but safely to the ground, andbent over him with anxious questioning. His face was drawn with pain,and he bent forward to grip his foot with both hands.
"My--ankle! I slipped on something, or came down on the side of myfoot. I don't know how it was done; but I've given it a bad wrench, ifnothing worse. You'll have to cart me up to the house, Bates. I'mafraid it's hopeless to try to walk."
"No, indeed, sir! Don't you trouble. I've got an old bath-chair storedaway in the stables. We'll lift you into that in no time, and take youup as easy as possible."
He turned off as he spoke, and Jack and Mollie were left alone. For amoment she stood silently by his side; then their eyes met, and he saidwearily--
"Kismet! Fate is too much for me. For better or worse, Miss Mollie, itis evidently ordained that I must stay on at the Court!"
The Fortunes of the Farrells Page 16
