A Fair Barbarian

by Frances Hodgson Burnett

  CHAPTER XXII.

  "YOU HAVE MADE IT LIVELIER."

  When she had become Mr. Burmistone's champion, indeed! She could scarcelyhave told when, unless, perhaps, she had fixed the date at the first timeshe had heard his name introduced at a high tea, with every politelyopprobrious epithet affixed. She had defended him in her own mind then,and felt sure that he deserved very little that was said against him, andvery likely nothing at all. And, the first time she had seen and spokento him, she had been convinced that she had not made a mistake, and thathe had been treated with cruel injustice. How kind he was, how manly, howclever, and how well he bore himself under the popular adverse criticism!She only wondered that anybody could be so blind and stupid and wilful asto assail him.

  And if this had been the case in those early days, imagine what she feltnow, when--ah, well!--when her friendship had had time and opportunity tobecome a much deeper sentiment. Must it be confessed that she had seenMr. Burmistone even oftener than Octavia and Miss Belinda knew of? Ofcourse it had all been quite accidental; but it had happened that now andthen, when she had been taking a quiet walk in the lanes about Oldclough,she had encountered a gentleman, who had dismounted, and led his horse bythe bridle, as he sauntered by her side. She had always been very timidat such times, and had felt rather like a criminal; but Mr. Burmistonehad not been timid at all, and would, indeed, as soon have met LadyTheobald as not, for which courage his companion admired him more thanever. It was not very long before to be with this hero re-assured her,and made her feel stronger and more self-reliant. She was never afraid toopen her soft little heart to him, and show him innocently all itsgoodness, and ignorance of worldliness. She warmed and brightened underhis kindly influence, and was often surprised in secret at her own simplereadiness of wit and speech.

  "It is odd that I am such a different girl when--when I am with you," shesaid to him one day. "I even make little jokes. I never should think ofmaking even the tiniest joke before grandmamma. Somehow, she never seemsquite to understand jokes. She never laughs at them. You always laugh,and I am sure it is very kind of you to encourage me so; but you must notencourage me too much, or I might forget, and make a little joke atdinner, and I think, if I did, she would choke over her soup."

  Perhaps, when she dressed her hair, and adorned herself with pale pinkbows and like appurtenances, this artful young person had privately inmind other beholders than Mrs. Burnham, and other commendation than thatto be bestowed by that most excellent matron.

  "Do you mind my telling you that you have put on an enchanted garment?"said Mr. Burmistone, the first time they met when she wore one of theold-new gowns. "I thought I knew before how"--

  "I don't mind it at all," said Lucia, blushing brilliantly. "I ratherlike it. It rewards me for my industry. My hair is dressed in a new way.I hope you like that too. Grandmamma does not."

  It had been Lady Theobald's habit to treat Lucia severely from a sense ofduty. Her manner toward her had always rather the tone of implying thatshe was naturally at fault, and yet her ladyship could not have toldwherein she wished the girl changed. In the good old school in which mylady had been trained, it was customary to regard young people as weak,foolish, and, if left to their own desires, frequently sinful. Lucia hadnot been left to her own desires. She had been taught to view herself asrather a bad case, and to feel that she was far from being what herrelatives had a right to expect. To be thrown with a person who did notfind her silly or dull or commonplace, was a new experience.

  "If I had been clever," Lucia said once to Mr. Burmistone,--"if I hadbeen clever, perhaps grandmamma would have been more satisfied with me. Ihave often wished I had been clever."

  "If you had been a boy," replied Mr. Burmistone rather grimly, "and hadsquandered her money, and run into debt, and bullied her, you would havebeen her idol, and she would have pinched and starved herself to supplyyour highness's extravagance."

  When the garden-party rumor began to take definite form, and there was nodoubt as to Mr. Burmistone's intentions, a discussion arose at once, andwent on in every genteel parlor. Would Lady Theobald allow Lucia to go?and, if she did not allow her, would not such a course appear verypointed indeed? It was universally decided that it would appear pointed,but that Lady Theobald would not mind that in the least, and perhapswould rather enjoy it than otherwise; and it was thought Lucia would notgo. And it is very likely that Lucia would have remained at home, if ithad not been for the influence of Mr. Francis Barold.

  Making a call at Oldclough, he found his august relative in a verymajestic mood, and she applied to him again for information.

  "Perhaps," she said, "you may be able to tell me whether it is true thatBelinda Bassett--_Belinda Bassett_," with emphasis, "has been invited byMr. Burmistone to assist him to receive his guests."

  "Yes, it is true," was the reply: "I think I advised it myself.Burmistone is fond of her. They are great friends. Man needs a woman atsuch times."

  "And he chose Belinda Bassett?"

  "In the first place, he is on friendly terms with her, as I said before,"replied Barold; "in the second, she's just what he wants--well-bred,kind-hearted, not likely to make rows, _et caetera_." There was a slightpause before he finished, adding quietly, "He's not the man to submit tobeing refused--Burmistone."

  Lady Theobald did not reply, or raise her eyes from her work: she knew hewas looking at her with calm fixedness, through the glass he held in itsplace so cleverly; and she detested this more than any thing else,perhaps because she was invariably quelled by it, and found she hadnothing to say.

  He did not address her again immediately, but turned to Lucia, droppingthe eyeglass, and resuming his normal condition.

  "You will go, of course?" he said.

  Lucia glanced across at my lady.

  "I--do not know. Grandmamma"--

  "Oh!" interposed Barold, "you must go. There is no reason for yourrefusing the invitation, unless you wish to imply somethingunpleasant--which is, of course, out of the question."

  "But there may be reasons"--began her ladyship.

  "Burmistone is my friend," put in Barold, in his coolest tone; "and I amyour relative, which would make my position in his house a delicate one,if he has offended you."

  When Lucia saw Octavia again, she was able to tell her that they hadreceived invitations to the _fete_, and that Lady Theobald had acceptedthem.

  "She has not spoken a word to me about it, but she has accepted them,"said Lucia. "I don't quite understand her lately, Octavia. She must bevery fond of Francis Barold. He never gives way to her in the least, andshe always seems to submit to him. I know she would not have let me go,if he had not insisted on it, in that taking-it-for-granted way of his."

  Naturally Mr. Burmistone's _fete_ caused great excitement. Miss Chickiewas never so busy in her life, and there were rumors that her feelingshad been outraged by the discovery that Mrs. Burnham had sent toHarriford for costumes for her daughters.

  "Slowbridge is changing, mem," said Miss Chickie, with brilliant sarcasm."Our ladies is led in their fashions by a Nevada young person. We'reimproving most rapid--more rapid than I'd ever have dared to hope. Do youprefer a frill, or a flounce, mem?"

  Octavia was in great good spirits at the prospect of the gayeties inquestion. She had been in remarkably good spirits for some weeks. She hadreceived letters from Nevada, containing good news she said. Shares hadgone up again; and her father had almost settled his affairs, and itwould not be long before he would come to England. She looked soexhilarated over the matter, that Lucia felt a little aggrieved. "Willyou be so glad to leave us, Octavia?" she asked. "We shall not be so gladto let you go. We have grown very fond of you."

  "I shall be sorry to leave you, and aunt Belinda is going with us. Youdon't expect me to be very fond of Slowbridge, do you, and to be sorry Ican't take Mrs. Burnham--and the rest?"

  Barold was present when she made this speech, and it rather rankled.

  "Am I one of 'the rest'?" he inquired, the first time he
found himselfalone with her. He was sufficiently piqued to forget his usual _hauteur_and discretion.

  "Would you like to be?" she said.

  "Oh! Very much--very much--naturally," he replied severely.

  They were standing near a rose-bush in the garden; and she plucked arose, and regarded it with deep interest.

  "Well," she said, next, "I must say I think I shouldn't have had such agood time if you hadn't been here. You have made it livelier."

  "Tha-anks," he remarked. "You are most kind."

  "Oh!" she answered, "it's true. If it wasn't, I shouldn't say it. You andMr. Burmistone and Mr. Poppleton have certainly made it livelier."

  He went home in such a bad humor that his host, who was rather happierthan usual, commented upon his grave aspect at dinner.

  "You look as if you had heard ill news, old fellow," he said. "What'sup?"

  "Oh, nothing!" he was answered sardonically; "nothing whatever--unlessthat I have been rather snubbed by a young lady from Nevada."

  "Ah!" with great seriousness: "that's rather cool, isn't it?"

  "It's her little way," said Barold. "It seems to be one of the customsof Nevada."

  In fact, he was very savage indeed. He felt that he had condescended agood deal lately. He seldom bestowed his time on women; and when he didso, at rare intervals, he chose those who would do the most honor to histaste at the least cost of trouble. And he was obliged to confess tohimself that he had broken his rule in this case. Upon analyzing hismotives and necessities, he found, that, after all, he must have extendedhis visit simply because he chose to see more of this young woman fromNevada, and that really, upon the whole, he had borne a good deal fromher. Sometimes he had been much pleased with her, and very wellentertained; but often enough--in fact, rather too often--she had madehim exceedingly uncomfortable. Her manners were not what he wasaccustomed to: she did not consider that all men were not to be regardedfrom the same point of view. Perhaps he did not put into definite wordsthe noble and patriotic sentiment that an Englishman was not to beregarded from the same point of view as an American, and that, though allthis sort of thing might do with fellows in New York, it was scarcelywhat an Englishman would stand. Perhaps, as I say, he had not put thissentiment into words; but it is quite certain that it had been uppermostin his mind upon more occasions than one. As he thought theiracquaintance over, this evening, he was rather severe upon Octavia. Heeven was roused so far as to condescend to talk her over with Burmistone.

  "If she had been well brought up," he said, "she would have been adifferent creature."

  "Very different, I have no doubt," said Burmistone thoughtfully. "Whenyou say well brought up, by the way, do you mean brought up like yourcousin, Miss Gaston?"

  "There is a medium," said Barold loftily. "I regret to say Lady Theobaldhas not hit upon it."

  "Well, as you say," commented Mr. Burmistone, "I suppose there is amedium."

  "A charming wife she would make, for a man with a position to maintain,"remarked Barold, with a short and somewhat savage laugh.

  "Octavia Bassett?" queried Burmistone. "That's true. But I am afraid shewouldn't enjoy it--if you are supposing the man to be an Englishman,brought up in the regulation groove."

  "Ah!" exclaimed Barold impatiently: "I was not looking at it from herpoint of view, but from his."

  Mr. Burmistone slipped his hands in his pockets, and jingled his keysslightly, as he did once before in an earlier part of this narrative.

  "Ah! from his," he repeated. "Not from hers. His point of view woulddiffer from hers--naturally."

  Barold flashed a little, and took his cigar from his mouth to knock offthe ashes.

  "A man is not necessarily a snob," he said, "because he is cool enoughnot to lose his head where a woman is concerned. You can't marry a womanwho will make mistakes, and attract universal attention by her conduct."

  "Has it struck you that Octavia Bassett would?" inquired Burmistone.

  "She would do as she chose," said Barold petulantly. "She would do thingswhich were unusual; but I was not referring to her in particular. Whyshould I?"

  "Ah!" said Burmistone. "I only thought of her because it did not strikeme that one would ever feel she had exactly blundered. She is not easilyembarrassed. There is a _sang-froid_ about her which carries things off."

  "Ah!" deigned Barold: "she has _sang-froid_ enough and to spare."

  He was silent for some time afterward, and sat smoking later than usual.When he was about to leave the room for the night, he made anannouncement for which his host was not altogether prepared.

  "When the _fete_ is over, my dear fellow," he said, "I must go back toLondon, and I shall be deucedly sorry to do it."

  "Look here!" said Burmistone, "that's a new idea, isn't it?"

  "No, an old one; but I have been putting the thing off from day to day.By Jove! I did not think it likely that I should put it off, the day Ilanded here."

  And he laughed rather uneasily.