CHAPTER VII.MR. QUENTIN'S PIANO.
"I have assailed her with music, but she vouchsafes no notice."
"I have assailed her with music, but she vouchsafes no notice."
"I have assailed her with music, but she vouchsafes no notice."
"I have assailed her with music, but she vouchsafes no notice."
"I have assailed her with music, but she vouchsafes no notice."
Cymbeline.
Mail-dayhad come round once more, and Helen could hardly believe that she had been already six weeks on Ross, it seemed more like six days. She had made the acquaintance of almost everybody, had visited the mainland, and Chatham and Viper; had ridden on a settlement elephant, had been to two picnics, and dozens of tennis parties, and was beginning to realize that she really was the mistress of that pretty bungalow under the palm-trees on the hill-side.
She was now great friends with Mrs. Home, and solemnly engaged to Billy; she saw Miss Caggett daily, and Mrs. Creery almost hourly, and other people called with complimentary frequency; notably Mr. Quentin, who found many excuses for tarrying in Miss Denis's drawing-room, and, remarkable to relate, Miss Caggett invariably contrived to drop in on the same occasions. She was usually in the highest spirits, and laughed, and smiled, and chatted as agreeably as if she had not come on purpose to mount guard over a recreant admirer, and by her presence endeavour to modify his attentions to her rival! Mr. Quentin found her company a bore; how could he settle down to read poetry, or to talk vague sentimental follies, whilst Miss Lizzie's sharp, shadeless eyes were following every look and movement? Moreover, she seasoned her conversation with disagreeable remarks, uncomfortable questions, and unpleasant insinuations.—Miss Denis was musical, but at present she had no piano; her father had promised her a new one from Calcutta after Christmas, but in the meantime she must wait. Mr. Quentin was surprised to find that he did not make as rapid strides in Helen's good graces as he usually did under similar circumstances, but he accounted for this amazing fact quite readily in his own mind, and was not one whit daunted. In the first place, she had but little sentiment in her composition; she was a sort of a girl who, if you invited her "to comeout and look at the moon" in your company, would be certain to burst out laughing in your face—and yet it seemed to him that her own face would make an admirable subject for a very charming romance—she was so absurdly matter-of-fact, so ready in turning off tender speeches, and so provokingly inclined to ridicule his most warranted compliments. Ofcourseshe liked him—the reverse never once dawned upon his arrogant brain—but why was she so hard to get on with? Doubtless, Lizzie Caggett's haunting presence handicapped him heavily; but Rome was not built in a day, and he had a grand idea—nothing less than sending Miss Denis over his piano as a loan—with a view to vocal duets. His attentions to the young lady had been very "marked" in Mrs. Creery's opinion; he was her shadow at all the "at homes," no other man had a chance of speaking to her; butthis"attention," which Mrs. Creery beheld coming up the pier, and borne by twenty staggering coolies, threw all his previous advances entirely into the shade.
The good lady hurried on ahead, and burst into Helen's drawing-room, breathless (the umbrella-rapping stage was a ceremony of the past), saying,—
"What do you think? There is a piano coming up the pier in charge of Mr. Quentin's butler—twenty coolies carrying it, at eight annas each! Mr. Quentin is sending it over to you—and, of course, it'sallsettled? and," aggrievedly, "I really think you might have toldme," and here she was obliged to pause for breath.
Helen stared at Mrs. Creery; never had she seen her so excited, was she going out of her mind, and about a piano?
"A piano, Mrs. Creery?—what piano?"
"A large square."
"And you say that Mr. Quentin is sending it; but it is certainly not cominghere."
"But itis. I saw a note addressed to you in the butler's hand."
"Well, it shall go back at once; it is some mistake. I don't know what papa would say!"
"Your father!" scornfully, "as ifhewould meddle, and as if yourwishes are not his law; besides, he knows it would be an excellent match!"
"Mrs. Creery," interrupted Helen, becoming scarlet, "please don't say such things; it's no question of—of—what you hint, but of this piano. What does it mean?"
"It's the thin end of the wedge,that'swhat it means."
"It shall go back!"
"Well, here it comes now at any rate," said the elder lady triumphantly, as the chanting, thin-legged bearers came staggering along under the heavy piece of furniture, with its wadded red cover; and a big, bearded butler presented a note with a profound salaam.
"Wait!" cried Helen, making an imperative gesture, tearing the envelope open. "Don't bring it up yet."
"What's all this?" inquired her father, appearing upon the scene at this juncture.
"A piano for your daughter from Mr. Quentin," volunteered Mrs. Creery with infinite gusto.
"Here, papa," handing him the note, "what am I to say?"
"You will have to keep it for the present, I suppose," he answered rather reluctantly, as he glanced over the missive; "you will have one of your own soon."
Mr. Quentin's note ran as follows:—
"Dear Miss Denis,—Please do not be alarmed at the size of the accompanying package, nor angry with me for my temerity in sending it; the piano is going to pieces over here, with no one to play on or look after it, and the hot winds on Aberdeen are ruination to an instrument. You will be conferring a great favour on me, if you will give it room, and honour me by making use of it, until the arrival of your own. I will crave permission to bring overa fewsongs, and we might have a little practice occasionally. If possible, I shall come across this afternoon.
"Yours very sincerely,
"JAMES QUENTIN."
Of course, when the matter was put in the light of a favour to be conferred, there was nothing for it but to allow the instrument to bebrought in, and lodged in the drawing-room.
Helen received the open note somewhat mechanically from her father, and will it be believed, that Mrs. Creery actually held out her hand for the missive—just as if it were quite a matter of course, that she should peruse it also?
Peruse it she did, and so slowly, that one would imagine that she was committing it to memory; then she folded it up and returned it to Helen, saying rather tartly, "So youaregoing to keep it, after all?"
"Yes! I suppose so."
"It's only an excuse, of course. You will have him here singing, day and night, mark my words! However, I must allow that he has a sweet tenor, and I shall often drop in for an hour," with which dire threat, Mrs. Creery took her departure, and hastened away to spread the last piece of news, viz., "that it was allquitesettled between Helen Denis and Mr. Quentin; he had sent her over his piano, and written such a sweet note!"
To Miss Caggett this intelligence was a painful shock; she never believed half of what Mrs. Creery said, but the arrival of the piano had been witnessed. What wrath and anguish filled her mind, as she thought of swains she had snubbed, and chances she had thrown away, for that agreeable shadow, that fickle, faithless, heartless, handsome Jim Quentin! But Lizzie was not easily suppressed; in some respects she was as dauntless as the Bruce!
She put on her best hat, and went up and listened to some solos and duets that very same afternoon; and Mr. Quentin, whose patience was almost threadbare, remarked to her very significantly,—
"I like duets, Miss Caggett, as well as any one, but I don't much care for trios; they are never so harmonious. I'm sure you agree with me."
Lizzie turned pale. She understood, though Helen did not—indeed,shewas exceedingly glad of Miss Caggett's society on these occasions; it took the too personal edge off her visitor's remarks, and acted as a wet blanket to his compliments. She (Helen) was not quite sure whether he was in jest or earnest at times, but she sincerelyhopedthat itwas the former. Strange as it may appear, she was utterly indifferent to the almost invincible Jim Quentin. Why, she could not have told. She knew that he was handsome, agreeable, and showed a flattering penchant for her society. More than this, he had informed her, hundreds of times (indirectly), that he admired her beyond words. And yet, and yet——
Miss Caggett was firmly resolved to punish her recreant lover, and to humble him in the eyes of his new Dulcinea; so she smiled, and showed all her teeth, and put her head on one side, and tried to look playful, and said,—
"Mr. Quentin, you are anaughtyman! What will Mr. Baines say when he hears you have sent his new Collard and Collard travelling about the settlement?"
Mr. Baines was the gentleman for whom Mr. Quentin was acting.
"Hesay?" colouring. "What is it to him?"
"Only his property," laughing rather boisterously.
Helen felt extremely uncomfortable. There was an undercurrent of hostility in Miss Caggett's laugh, that now struck her for the first time.
Mr. Quentin was not easily cowed, and never had any hesitation about telling what Mark Twain calls a "stretcher," and answered quite promptly,—
"I bought it from Baines; he was hard up. So you are not as wise as you imagined, Miss Caggett."
Miss Caggett did not believe a word of this. Men who come to "act" for six months, and have the use of a furnished house as a matter of course, are not likely to purchase the piano—especially when they can'tplay. But what was the use of speaking out her mind? For once she was prudent, and held her peace; however, she cast a glance at Mr. Quentin that said volumes, and presently she got up and went away; and, when she had departed, Mr. Quentin exclaimed,—
"How I wish that odious young woman—or middle-aged woman—would not favour us with so much of her society; her presence has a most irritating effect on my nerves."
"I thought you and she were great friends," said Helen calmly. "I am sure she told me that, at one time, you were with them every day, anddined, and boated, and sang duets with her."
"I suppose I was three times in their house—I don't know what she will say next! However," anxious to turn to another subject, "do not let us waste our time, or rathermyprecious time over here, on such an insignificant subject. Will you try over the accompaniment of the Wanderer?"
Mr. Quentin found himself so much out of practice that he went across to Ross for an hour's vocal exercise about four times a week. Latterly Mr. Lisle had listened with a gleam of mockery in his eye, as his companion made excuses for these frequent visits, and one day Mr. Quentin up and spake boldly,—
"You are right to laugh at my talk about books and music and new songs, when I say that they are the errands that take me over so often—of course, it's the girl herself."
"Oh, of course," sarcastically.
"I tell you what it is, Lisle—I'm really serious this time; and the queer part of it is, that it's her cool airs and sharp little speeches that have carried the citadel."
"What citadel?" raising his eyes, and searching the other's face.
"My heart, to be sure!"
"Pooh! your heart! Why that has been taken as often as there are days in the year."
"Merely a temporary occupation, my dear sir, but this time it's a complete surrender. 'Pon my word, if she had any money, I'd marry her to-morrow!"
In answer to this remark, Mr. Lisle blew a cloud of smoke into the air, and calmly ejaculated the word,—
"Bosh!"
"I never knew such a fellow as you are," cried Apollo indignantly. "You have no appreciation of sentiment; you are as tough and matter-of-fact as an old boot! All you care for are rough field sports, such as a long day's shooting, hunting, or fishing, and then to come home to your dinner, and sleep like a dog."
"I only wish Icouldsleep like a dog," rejoined the other with a laugh. "What with the gun and bugles, and those confounded peacocks,there is no such thing as getting a wink of sleep after four o'clock."
"Now," continued Mr. Quentin querulously, "I hate your style of life. You don't care what clothes you wear, you tramp the bush and over hill and dale with a gun on your shoulder, on the off chance of a wild pig, or a paltry brace of snipe! Or you grill by the hour in a boat, fishing for sharks and sword-fish. Now give me instead——"
"Yes, I know exactly what I'm to give you instead; the refining charms of ladies' society, vocal duets and afternoon tea. Far, far pleasanter, is it not, to sit in a cool, shady verandah, whispering soft nothings to a pretty girl—I believe you said shewaspretty—than to be out in a boat blistering in the sun, or tramping the woods, gun on shoulder, with a good average chance of being winged oneself by an Andamanese arrow? But let me tell you, James Quentin, that your amusement is in reality the most dangerous of the two, and, if Dr. Parks is to be believed, you have already burnt your fingers badly."
"Hang Dr. Parks! I don't want to hear about him, or any one else, except Helen Denis."
"Helen Denis! And does she not wish to hear about any one but James Quentin?"
Mr. Quentin smiled a seraphic smile that inferred much; his companion was not surprised. Quentin was exactly the sort of fellow to please a young lady's fancy; naturally he would seem to her the very beau ideal of a hero, with his low voice, heavenly blue eyes, and handsome face; but then she was not aware that he did not stand the test of close intimacy.Shehad never heard him cursing his chokra or his creditors—she never saw him in ragged moral deshabille!
"Of course she does not know that this is by no means your first tender effort at gallantry?—However, that is of no moment, Miss Caggett will undeceive her," tranquilly remarked his companion.
"What a beastly ironical fellow you are, Lisle! First you rake up old Parks, and then Lizzie Caggett. I wish she were in a sack at the bottom of Ross harbour!" blustered Mr. Quentin.
"Because she represents a kind of conscience in her own person? Take care that Miss Denis does not do the same some day."
"No fear," stoutly. "She is now a mere child in many ways, full of delight with everything about her, and with no more idea of flirting than——" pausing.
"I have," suggested his listener, innocently.
"I would be sorry to name her in the same breath with you; and that reminds me, that more than once she has asked me questions about Mr. Lisle."
"Oh, of course, they all dothat!"
"She has heard of you."
"From my good, kind friend, Mrs. Creery, I'll bet a fiver, and I'll bet another that she has painted me as black as an Andamanese,—and the devil himself would not be blacker."
"Well, come over with me to-morrow, and let Miss D. see that you are not as bad as you are painted."
"What would be the use? If she is all yousay, I might fall in love with her also! and that would be a very uncomfortable state of affairs."
Mr. Quentin looked at him for a second with a cool stare, and then burst out laughing.
"Well, upon my word! you are the queerest fellow I ever met, and that's saying a good deal; you can never be in earnest for five minutes. Now look here, I want to talk to you seriously about my money affairs.—You see my governor is an old man, and when he is laid in the family vault, I'll have a decent little competence, but untilthenI cannot keep myself, much less a wife. I'm certain he won't give me a halfpenny more allowance than I have already. I've an uncontrollable knack of spending coin, and running into debt; but with the family acres, I think I might manage to rub along pretty well."
"So you might," agreed his listener.
"But then the governor may live till he is a hundred."
"So he may," again admitted the other gentleman.
"For goodness' sake, Lisle, don't sit there with your eyes half shut, driving me mad with your 'so you might' and 'so he may.' Make a suggestion."
"My dear sir, I cannot think of any to offer. If you were an Earth Indian, you would be all right; you know they tie up their aged as bait for wild beasts. Being a mere Englishman——"
Mr. Lisle never finished what he was about to say; for his companion sprang to his feet, towered above him, glared at him for a second, opened his mouth and endeavoured to speak,—but failed; and then flung out of the apartment in a terrible passion.