Red Hair

by Elinor Glyn

  TRYLAND,

  Thursday, _November 10th._

  BRANCHES,

  _Wednesday._

  DEAR MISS TRAVERS,--

  I regret exceedingly I was unable to come over to Tryland to-day, but hope to do so before you leave. I trust you are well, and did not catch cold on the drive.

  Yours, very truly,

  CHRISTOPHER CARRUTHERS.

  _This_ is what I get this morning! Pig!

  Well, I sha'n't be in if he does come. I can just see him pullinghimself together once temptation (it makes me think of Malcolm!) is outof his way; he no doubt feels he has had an escape, as I am nobody verygrand.

  The letters come early here, as everywhere, but in a bag which only Mr.Montgomerie can open, and one has to wait until every one is seated atbreakfast before he produces the key and deals them all out.

  Mr. Carruthers's was the only one for me, and it had "Branches" on theenvelope, which attracted Mr. Montgomerie's attention, and he began to"burrrr," and hardly gave me time to read it before he commenced to askquestions apropos of the place, to get me to say what the letter wasabout. He is a curious man.

  "Carruthers is a capital fellow, they tell me--er. You had better askhim over quietly, Katherine, if he is all alone at Branches"--this withone eye on me in a questioning way.

  I remained silent.

  "Perhaps he is off to London, though?"

  I pretended to be busy with my coffee.

  "Best pheasant-shoot in the county, and a close borough under the oldregime. Hope he will be more neighborly--Er--suppose he must shoot 'embefore November?"

  I buttered my toast.

  Then the "burrrrs" began. I wonder he does not have a noise that endswith d--n simply. It would save him time.

  "Couldn't help seeing your letter was from Branches. Hope Carruthersgives you some news?"

  As he addressed me deliberately, I was obliged to answer:

  "I have no information. It is only a business letter," and I ate toastagain.

  He "burrred" more than ever, and opened some of his own correspondence.

  "What am I to do, Katherine," he said, presently--"that confoundedfellow Campion has thrown me over for next week, and he is my best gun?At short notice like this, it's impossible to replace him with the sameclass of shot."

  "Yes, dear," said Lady Katherine, in that kind of voice that has notheard the question. She was deep in her own letters.

  "Katherine!" roared Mr. Montgomerie. "Will you listen when Ispeak--burrrr!" and he thumped his fist on the table.

  Poor Lady Katherine almost jumped, and the china rattled.

  "Forgive me, Anderson," she said, humbly; "you were saying----?"

  "Campion has thrown me over," glared Mr. Montgomerie.

  "Then I have perhaps the very thing for you," Lady Katherine said, in arelieved way, returning to her letters. "Sophia Merrenden writes thismorning, and among other things tells me of her nephew, Lord RobertVavasour--you know, Torquilstone's half-brother. She says he is the mostcharming young man and a wonderful shot--she even suggests" (lookingback a page), "that he might be useful to us, if we are short of a gun."

  "Damned kind of her!" growled Mr. Montgomerie.

  I hope they did not notice, but I had suddenly such a thrill of pleasurethat I am sure my cheeks got red. I felt frightfully excited to hearwhat was going to happen.

  "Merrenden, as you know, is the best judge of shooting in England," LadyKatherine went on, in an injured voice. "Sophia is hardly likely torecommend his nephew so highly if he were not pretty good."

  "But you don't know the puppy, Katherine."

  My heart fell.

  "That is not the least consequence; we are almost related. Merrenden ismy first cousin, you forget that, I suppose!"

  Fortunately I could detect that Lady Katherine was becoming obstinateand offended. I drank some more coffee. Oh, how lovely if Lord Robertcomes!

  Mr. Montgomerie "burrred" a lot first, but Lady Katherine got him round,and before breakfast was over it was decided she should write to LordRobert and ask him to come to the shoot. As we were all standing lookingout of the window at the dripping rain, I heard her say, in a low voice:

  "Really, Anderson, we must think of the girls sometimes. Torquilstone isa confirmed bachelor and a cripple--Lord Robert will certainly one daybe duke."

  "Well, catch him if you can," said Mr. Montgomerie. He is coarsesometimes.

  I am not going to let myself think much about Lord Robert. Mr.Carruthers has been a lesson to me. But if he does come, I wonder ifLady Katherine will think it funny of me not saying I knew him when shefirst spoke of him. It is too late now, so it can't be helped.

  The Mackintosh party arrived this afternoon. Marriage must have quitedifferent effects on some people. Numbers of the married women we saw inLondon were lovely--prettier, I always heard, than they had beenbefore--but Mary Mackintosh is perfectly awful. She can't be more thantwenty-seven, but she looks forty, at least; and stout, and sticking outall in the wrong places, and flat where the stick-outs ought to be. Andthe four children. The two eldest look much the same age, the next alittle smaller, and there is a baby, and they all squall, and althoughthey seem to have heaps of nurses, poor Mr. Mackintosh has to be a kindof under one. He fetches and carries for them, and gives hishandkerchief when they slobber, but perhaps it is he feels proud that aperson of his size had these four enormous babies almost all at oncelike that.

  The whole thing is simply dreadful.

  Tea was a pandemonium! The four aunts gushing over the infants, andfeeding them with cake, and gurgling with "tootsie-wootsie popsy-wopsy"kind of noises. They will get to do "burrrrs," I am sure, when they getolder. I wonder if the infants will come down every afternoon when theshoot happens. The guests will enjoy it.

  I said to Jean as we came up-stairs that I thought it seemed terrible toget married; did not she? But she was shocked, and said no, marriage andmotherhood were sacred duties, and she envied her sister.

  This kind of thing is not my idea of bliss. Two really well-behavedchildren would be delicious, I think; but four squalling imps all aboutthe same age is _bourgeois_, and not the affair of a lady.

  I suppose Lord Robert's answer cannot get here till about Saturday. Iwonder how he arranged it? It is clever of him. Lady Katherine said thisMr. Campion who was coming is in the same regiment, the 3d Life Guards.Perhaps when---- But there is no use my thinking about it, only somehowI am feeling so much better to-night--gay, and as if I did not mindbeing very poor--that I was obliged to tease Malcolm a little afterdinner. I _would_ play Patience, and never lifted my eyes from thecards.

  He kept trying to say things to me to get me to go to the piano, but Ipretended I did not notice. A palm stands at the corner of a highChippendale writing-bureau, and Jessie happened to have put thePatience-table behind that rather, so the rest of them could not seeeverything that was happening. Malcolm at last sat very near beside me,and wanted to help with the aces--but I can't bear people being close tome, so I upset the board, and he had to pick up all the cards on thefloor. Kirstie, for a wonder, played the piano then--a cake-walk--andthere was something in it that made me feel I wanted to move--to dance,to undulate--I don't know what--and my shoulders swayed a little in timeto the music. Malcolm breathed quite as if he had a cold, and said,right in my ear, in a fat voice:

  "You know you are a devil--and I----"

  I stopped him at once, and looked up for the first time, absolutelyshocked and surprised.

  "Really, Mr. Montgomerie, I do not know what you mean," I said.

  He began to fidget.

  "Er--I mean--I mean--I awfully wish to kiss you."

  "But I do not a bit wish to kiss you," I said, and I opened my eyes
wideat him.

  He looked like a spiteful bantam, and fortunately at that moment Jessiereturned to the Patience, and he could not say any more.

  Lady Katherine and Mrs. Mackintosh came into my room on the way up tobed. She--Lady Katherine--wanted to show Mary how beautifully they hadhad it done up; it used to be hers before she married. They looked allround at the dead-daffodil-colored cretonne and things, and at last Icould see their eyes often straying to my night-gown, and dressing-gown,laid out on a chair beside the fire.

  "Oh, Lady Katherine, I am afraid you are wondering at my having pinksilk," I said, apologetically, "as I am in mourning; but I have not hadtime to get a white dressing-gown yet."

  "It is not that, dear," said Lady Katherine, in a grave duty voice."I--I--do not think such a night-gown is suitable for a girl."

  "Oh, but I am very strong," I said. "I never catch cold."

  Mary Mackintosh held it up, with a face of stern disapproval. Of courseit has short sleeves ruffled with Valenciennes, and is fine linencambric nicely embroidered. Mrs. Carruthers was always very particularabout them, and chose them herself at Doucet's. She said one never couldknow when places might catch on fire.

  "Evangeline, dear, you are very young, so you probably cannotunderstand," Mary said. "But I consider this garment not in any way fitfor a girl, or for any good woman for that matter. Mother, I hope mysisters have not seen it."

  I looked so puzzled.

  She examined the stuff, one could see the chair through it, beyond.

  "What _would_ Alexander say if I were to wear such a thing!"

  This thought seemed to almost suffocate them both; they looked genuinelypained and shocked.

  "Of course it would be too tight for you," I said, humbly; "but it isotherwise a very good pattern, and does not tear when one puts up one'sarms. Mrs. Carruthers made a fuss at Doucet's because my last set toreso soon, and they altered these."

  At the mention of my late adopted mother, both of them pulled themselvesup.

  "Mrs. Carruthers, we know, had very odd notions," Lady Katherine said,stiffly. "But I hope, Evangeline, you have sufficient sense tounderstand now for yourself that such a--a--garment is not at allseemly."

  "Oh, why not, dear Lady Katherine?" I said, "You don't know how becomingit is."

  "Becoming!" almost screamed Mary Mackintosh, "But no nice-minded womanwants things to look becoming in bed!"

  The whole matter appeared so painful to them I covered up the offending"nighty" with my dressing-gown, and coughed. It made a break, and theywent away, saying good-night frigidly.

  And now I am alone. But I do wonder why it is wrong to look pretty inbed, considering nobody sees one, too!