Volume One—Chapter Eleven.

Volume One—Chapter Eleven.Croquet and Roquet.“Bai Jove, seems a strange thing!” said Max Bray at breakfast-time, about a week after the events recorded in the last chapter—“seems a strange thing you women can’t settle anything without showing your teeth!”“You women, indeed! Max, how can you talk so vulgarly!” exclaimed Laura.And then there was silence, for Ella Bedford entered the breakfast-room with her charges.Strange or not, there had been something more than a few words that morning in the breakfast-room between Mrs Bray and her daughter, concerning a croquet-party to come off that afternoon upon the Elms lawn. As for Mr Bray, he had taken no part in the discussion, “shutting-up”—to use his son’s words—“like an old gingham umbrella, bai Jove!”However, hostilities ceased upon the appearance of Ella with the children; and Mrs Bray, after shrieking for the tea-caddy, sat down to the urn, and the morning meal commenced.“Of course, mamma,” said Laura suddenly, “you won’t think of having the children on the lawn?”“O, I daresay, miss!” cried Nelly, firing up. “Just as if we’re to be set aside when there’s anything going on! Charley Vining says I play croquet just twice as well as you can; and I know he’s coming to-day on purpose to see me!” she added maliciously.Mr Bray shook his head at her, and Ella slightly raised one finger; but as she made a rule of never correcting her charges when father or mother was present, she did not speak.“Hold your tongue, you pert child!” exclaimed Laura, with a toss of the head. “You’ll let Miss Bedford keep them in the schoolroom, of course, mamma?”“Indeed, I don’t see why they should not have a game as well as their sister!” shrieked Mrs Bray, from behind the urn; for after the hostilities of that morning mamma would not budge an inch.The breakfast ended, Nelly ran round to give Mrs Bray a sounding kiss, and then danced after her sisters and their governess into the schoolroom.“There, hooray! Beaten her!” shouted Nelly, clapping her hands. “I knew what she meant, Miss Bedford. She didn’t want you to be on the lawn and come and play; and now she’s beaten, and serve her right too! She’s afraid Charley Vining will take more notice of you than he does of her, and I shall tell him.”“My dear Nelly!” exclaimed Ella, with a look of pain on her countenance; when her wild young charge dropped demurely into a seat, and began to devour French irregular verbs at a tremendous rate, working at them thoroughly hard, and, having a very retentive memory, making some progress.These were Ella’s happiest moments; for, in spite of their roughness, the three girls in her charge, one and all, evinced a liking for her; and save at times, when she broke out into a thorough childish fit, Nelly grew hourly more and more womanly under her care. But Ella was somewhat troubled respecting the afternoon’s meeting, and would gladly have spent the time in solitude, for it was plain enough that she was to be present solely out of opposition to Laura; and in spite of all her efforts, it seemed that she was to grow daily more distasteful to the dark beauty, who openly showed her dislike before Ella had been in the house a week.However, the schoolroom studies made very little progress that morning; for before long Mrs Bray entered to give orders respecting dress, sending Nelly into ecstasies as she cast her book aside; and at three o’clock that afternoon, as Laura swept across the lawn to meet some of the coming guests, there was a look of annoyance upon her countenance that was ill-concealed by the smile she wore.“So absurd!” she had just found time to say to Mrs Bray, “bringing those children and their governess out upon the croquet-ground as if on purpose to annoy people, who are made to give way to humour their schoolroom whims!”Mrs Bray’s reply was a toss of the head, as she turned off to meet her hopeful son Max, who, after pains that deserved a better recompense, now made his appearance dressed for the occasion.“Just in time, bai Jove!” he drawled; and then he started slightly, for, making a survey of the lawn, he suddenly became aware that Ella Bedford was seated within a few yards with her pupils. “O, here’s Miss Bedford!” he exclaimed; “and, let’s see, there’s Laura; and who are those with her? O, the Ellis people. They don’t play. I want to make up a set at once—want another gentleman. Why, there’s Charley Vining just coming out of the stable-yard; rode over, I suppose. Perhaps he’ll play.”Ella shrank back, and sent an appealing look towards Mrs Bray; but as Max had said Miss Bedford was to play, there was no appeal.“Perhaps Miss Nelly here would like to take my place?” said Ella.“O, dear me, no, Miss Bedford! Mr Maximilian selected you as one of the set, and I should not like him to be disappointed,” said Mamma Bray.“You’ll play, Vining?” drawled Max.“Well, no; I don’t care about it,” said Charley good-humouredly. “I’ll make room for some one else.”“Ya-a-as, but we haven’t enough without you,” said Max. “You might take a mallet, you know, till some one else comes.”“O, very good,” said Charley, who had just caught sight of Ella with a mallet in her hand. “I’m ready.”“Then we’ll have a game at once before any one else comes. Now then, Laura, here’s Charley Vining breaking his heart because you don’t come and play on his side. I daresay, though, Miss Bedford and I can get the better of you.”But Max Bray’s arrangement for a snugpartiof four was upset by fresh arrivals—Hugh Lingon, looking very stout, pink, and warm, with a couple of sisters, both stouter, pinker, and warmer, and a very slim young curate from a neighbouring village, arriving just at the same time.Then followed a little manoeuvring and arranging; but in spite of brother and sister playing into each other’s hands, the game commenced with Max Bray upon the same side as Laura, one of the stout Miss Lingons, and the slim curate; while Charley Vining had Ella under his wing.Croquet is a very nice amusement: not that there is much in the game itself, which is, if anything, rather tame; but it serves as a means for bringing people together—as a vehicle for chatting, flirting, and above all, carrying off theennuiso fond of making its way into social fashionable life. You can help the trusting friend so nicely through hoop after hoop, receiving all the while such prettily-spoken thanks and such sweet smiles; there is such a fine opportunity too, whilst assuming the leadership and directing, for enabling the young lady to properly hold her mallet for the next blow—arranging the little fingers, and pressing them inadvertently more tightly to the stick; and we have known very enthusiastic amateurs go so far as to kneel down before a lady, and raise one delicatebottine, placing it on the player’s ball, and holding it firmly while the enemy is croque’d.Aproposof enemies, too, how they can be punished! How a rival can be ignominiously driven here and there, and into all sorts of uncomfortable places—under bushes and behind trees, wired and pegged, and treated in the most cruel manner!And so it was at the Elms croquet-party. Looking black almost as night, Laura struck at the balls viciously—a prime new set of Jaques’s best—chipping the edge of her mallet, bruising the balls, and driving Ella Bedford’s “Number 1, blue,” at times right off the croquet-ground. Not that it mattered in the least; for in spite of his self-depreciation, Charley Vining was an admirable player, making long shots, and fetching up Ella’s unfortunate ball, taking it with him through hoop after hoop, till Laura’s eyes flashed, and Max declared, “bai Jove!” he never saw anything like it; when Charley would catch a glimpse of Ella’s troubled look, recollect himself, and perform the same acts of kindness for the plump Miss Lingon, to receive in return numberless “O, thank you’s!” and “O, how clever’s!” and “So much obliged, Mr Vining!” while “that governess,” as Laura called her, never once uttered a word of thanks. As for Hugh Lingon, he was always nowhere; and as he missed his aim again and again, he grew more and more divided in his opinions.First he declared that the ground was not level; but seeing the good strokes made by others, he retracted that observation, and waited awhile.“I don’t think my ball is quite round, Vining,” he exclaimed, after another bad stroke.“Pooh! nonsense!” laughed Charley. “You didn’t try; it was because you didn’t want to hit Miss Bray.”“No—no! ’Pon my word, no—’pon my word!” exclaimed Hugh, protesting as he grew more and more pink.“Did his best, I’d swear—bai Jove, he did!” drawled Max, playing, and sending poor Lingon off the ground.Then, after a time, Lingon had his turn once more.“It’s not the ball, it’s this mallet—it is indeed!” he exclaimed, after an atrocious blow. “Just you look here, Vining: the handle’s all on one side.”“Never mind! Try again, my boy,” laughed Charley; and soon after he had to bring both his lady partners up again to their hoop, sending Laura’s ball away to make room for them, and on the whole treating it rather harshly, Laura’s eyes flashing the while with vexation.“I like croquet for some things,” said Laura’s partner, the thin curate, after vainly trying to render her a service; “I but it’s a very unchristian-like sort of game—one seems to give all one’s love to one’s friends, and to keep none for one’s enemies.”“O, come, I say,” laughed Charley, who seemed to be in high spirits. “Here’s Mr Louther talking about love to Miss Bray!”“Indeed, I assure you—” exclaimed the curate.“But I distinctly heard the word,” laughed Charley.“Was that meant for a witticism?” sneered Laura.“Wit? no!” said Charley good-humouredly. “I never go in for that sort of thing.”“Bai Jove, Vining! why don’t you attend to the ga-a-a-me?” drawled Max, who was suffering from too much of the second Miss Lingon—a young lady who looked upon him as an Adonis.“Not my turn,” said Charley.“Yes, yes!” said Hugh Lingon innocently. “Miss Bedford wants you to help her along!”“Of course,” sneered Laura. “Such impudence!”But Charley did not hear her words; for he was already half-way towards poor Ella, who seemed to shrink from him as he approached, and watched with a troubled breast the efforts he made upon her behalf.“Now it’s my turn again,” said Hugh. “Now just give me your advice here, Vining. What ought I to do?”Charley interrupted a remark he was making to Ella Bedford, and pointed out the most advantageous play, when Hugh Lingon raised his mallet, the blow fell, and—he missed.“Now, did you ever see anything like that?” he exclaimed, appealing to the company.“Yes, often!” laughed Charley.“But what can be the reason?” exclaimed Lingon.“Why, bai Jove! it’s because you’re such a muff, Lingon, bai Jove!” exclaimed Max.“I am—I know I am!” said Lingon good-humouredly. “But, you know, I can’t help it—can’t indeed!”The game went on with varying interest, Charley in the intervals trying to engage Ella in conversation; but only to find her retiring, almost distant, as from time to time she caught sight of a pair of fierce eyes bent upon her from beneath Laura’s frowning brows. But there was a sweetness of disposition beaming from Ella’s troubled countenance, and the tokens of a rare intellect in her few words—spoken to endeavour to direct him to seek for others with more conversational power, but with precisely the contrary effect—that seemed to rouse in Sir Philip Vining’s son feelings altogether new. He found himself dwelling upon every word, every sweet and musical tone, drinking in each troubled, trembling look, and listening with ill-concealed eagerness even for the words spoken to others.“Bai Jove!” exclaimed Max at length, angrily to his sister, “what’s the matter with that Charley Vining?”“Don’t ask me!” cried Laura pettishly, as she turned from him to listen to and then to snub the slim curate, who, after ten minutes’ consideration, had worked up and delivered a compliment.Once only did Ella trust herself to look at Charley, taking in, though, with that glance the open-countenanced, happy English face of the young man, but shrinking within herself the next instant as she seemed to feel the bold, open, but still respectfully-admiring glance directed at her.Two other croquet sets had been made upon the great lawn; and, taking the first opportunity, Ella had given up her mallet into other hands—an act, to Laura’s great disgust, imitated by Charley Vining, who, however, found no opportunity for again approaching Ella Bedford until the hour of dinner was announced, when, the major portion of the croquet-players having departed, the remainder—the invited few—met in the drawing-room.

“Bai Jove, seems a strange thing!” said Max Bray at breakfast-time, about a week after the events recorded in the last chapter—“seems a strange thing you women can’t settle anything without showing your teeth!”

“You women, indeed! Max, how can you talk so vulgarly!” exclaimed Laura.

And then there was silence, for Ella Bedford entered the breakfast-room with her charges.

Strange or not, there had been something more than a few words that morning in the breakfast-room between Mrs Bray and her daughter, concerning a croquet-party to come off that afternoon upon the Elms lawn. As for Mr Bray, he had taken no part in the discussion, “shutting-up”—to use his son’s words—“like an old gingham umbrella, bai Jove!”

However, hostilities ceased upon the appearance of Ella with the children; and Mrs Bray, after shrieking for the tea-caddy, sat down to the urn, and the morning meal commenced.

“Of course, mamma,” said Laura suddenly, “you won’t think of having the children on the lawn?”

“O, I daresay, miss!” cried Nelly, firing up. “Just as if we’re to be set aside when there’s anything going on! Charley Vining says I play croquet just twice as well as you can; and I know he’s coming to-day on purpose to see me!” she added maliciously.

Mr Bray shook his head at her, and Ella slightly raised one finger; but as she made a rule of never correcting her charges when father or mother was present, she did not speak.

“Hold your tongue, you pert child!” exclaimed Laura, with a toss of the head. “You’ll let Miss Bedford keep them in the schoolroom, of course, mamma?”

“Indeed, I don’t see why they should not have a game as well as their sister!” shrieked Mrs Bray, from behind the urn; for after the hostilities of that morning mamma would not budge an inch.

The breakfast ended, Nelly ran round to give Mrs Bray a sounding kiss, and then danced after her sisters and their governess into the schoolroom.

“There, hooray! Beaten her!” shouted Nelly, clapping her hands. “I knew what she meant, Miss Bedford. She didn’t want you to be on the lawn and come and play; and now she’s beaten, and serve her right too! She’s afraid Charley Vining will take more notice of you than he does of her, and I shall tell him.”

“My dear Nelly!” exclaimed Ella, with a look of pain on her countenance; when her wild young charge dropped demurely into a seat, and began to devour French irregular verbs at a tremendous rate, working at them thoroughly hard, and, having a very retentive memory, making some progress.

These were Ella’s happiest moments; for, in spite of their roughness, the three girls in her charge, one and all, evinced a liking for her; and save at times, when she broke out into a thorough childish fit, Nelly grew hourly more and more womanly under her care. But Ella was somewhat troubled respecting the afternoon’s meeting, and would gladly have spent the time in solitude, for it was plain enough that she was to be present solely out of opposition to Laura; and in spite of all her efforts, it seemed that she was to grow daily more distasteful to the dark beauty, who openly showed her dislike before Ella had been in the house a week.

However, the schoolroom studies made very little progress that morning; for before long Mrs Bray entered to give orders respecting dress, sending Nelly into ecstasies as she cast her book aside; and at three o’clock that afternoon, as Laura swept across the lawn to meet some of the coming guests, there was a look of annoyance upon her countenance that was ill-concealed by the smile she wore.

“So absurd!” she had just found time to say to Mrs Bray, “bringing those children and their governess out upon the croquet-ground as if on purpose to annoy people, who are made to give way to humour their schoolroom whims!”

Mrs Bray’s reply was a toss of the head, as she turned off to meet her hopeful son Max, who, after pains that deserved a better recompense, now made his appearance dressed for the occasion.

“Just in time, bai Jove!” he drawled; and then he started slightly, for, making a survey of the lawn, he suddenly became aware that Ella Bedford was seated within a few yards with her pupils. “O, here’s Miss Bedford!” he exclaimed; “and, let’s see, there’s Laura; and who are those with her? O, the Ellis people. They don’t play. I want to make up a set at once—want another gentleman. Why, there’s Charley Vining just coming out of the stable-yard; rode over, I suppose. Perhaps he’ll play.”

Ella shrank back, and sent an appealing look towards Mrs Bray; but as Max had said Miss Bedford was to play, there was no appeal.

“Perhaps Miss Nelly here would like to take my place?” said Ella.

“O, dear me, no, Miss Bedford! Mr Maximilian selected you as one of the set, and I should not like him to be disappointed,” said Mamma Bray.

“You’ll play, Vining?” drawled Max.

“Well, no; I don’t care about it,” said Charley good-humouredly. “I’ll make room for some one else.”

“Ya-a-as, but we haven’t enough without you,” said Max. “You might take a mallet, you know, till some one else comes.”

“O, very good,” said Charley, who had just caught sight of Ella with a mallet in her hand. “I’m ready.”

“Then we’ll have a game at once before any one else comes. Now then, Laura, here’s Charley Vining breaking his heart because you don’t come and play on his side. I daresay, though, Miss Bedford and I can get the better of you.”

But Max Bray’s arrangement for a snugpartiof four was upset by fresh arrivals—Hugh Lingon, looking very stout, pink, and warm, with a couple of sisters, both stouter, pinker, and warmer, and a very slim young curate from a neighbouring village, arriving just at the same time.

Then followed a little manoeuvring and arranging; but in spite of brother and sister playing into each other’s hands, the game commenced with Max Bray upon the same side as Laura, one of the stout Miss Lingons, and the slim curate; while Charley Vining had Ella under his wing.

Croquet is a very nice amusement: not that there is much in the game itself, which is, if anything, rather tame; but it serves as a means for bringing people together—as a vehicle for chatting, flirting, and above all, carrying off theennuiso fond of making its way into social fashionable life. You can help the trusting friend so nicely through hoop after hoop, receiving all the while such prettily-spoken thanks and such sweet smiles; there is such a fine opportunity too, whilst assuming the leadership and directing, for enabling the young lady to properly hold her mallet for the next blow—arranging the little fingers, and pressing them inadvertently more tightly to the stick; and we have known very enthusiastic amateurs go so far as to kneel down before a lady, and raise one delicatebottine, placing it on the player’s ball, and holding it firmly while the enemy is croque’d.Aproposof enemies, too, how they can be punished! How a rival can be ignominiously driven here and there, and into all sorts of uncomfortable places—under bushes and behind trees, wired and pegged, and treated in the most cruel manner!

And so it was at the Elms croquet-party. Looking black almost as night, Laura struck at the balls viciously—a prime new set of Jaques’s best—chipping the edge of her mallet, bruising the balls, and driving Ella Bedford’s “Number 1, blue,” at times right off the croquet-ground. Not that it mattered in the least; for in spite of his self-depreciation, Charley Vining was an admirable player, making long shots, and fetching up Ella’s unfortunate ball, taking it with him through hoop after hoop, till Laura’s eyes flashed, and Max declared, “bai Jove!” he never saw anything like it; when Charley would catch a glimpse of Ella’s troubled look, recollect himself, and perform the same acts of kindness for the plump Miss Lingon, to receive in return numberless “O, thank you’s!” and “O, how clever’s!” and “So much obliged, Mr Vining!” while “that governess,” as Laura called her, never once uttered a word of thanks. As for Hugh Lingon, he was always nowhere; and as he missed his aim again and again, he grew more and more divided in his opinions.

First he declared that the ground was not level; but seeing the good strokes made by others, he retracted that observation, and waited awhile.

“I don’t think my ball is quite round, Vining,” he exclaimed, after another bad stroke.

“Pooh! nonsense!” laughed Charley. “You didn’t try; it was because you didn’t want to hit Miss Bray.”

“No—no! ’Pon my word, no—’pon my word!” exclaimed Hugh, protesting as he grew more and more pink.

“Did his best, I’d swear—bai Jove, he did!” drawled Max, playing, and sending poor Lingon off the ground.

Then, after a time, Lingon had his turn once more.

“It’s not the ball, it’s this mallet—it is indeed!” he exclaimed, after an atrocious blow. “Just you look here, Vining: the handle’s all on one side.”

“Never mind! Try again, my boy,” laughed Charley; and soon after he had to bring both his lady partners up again to their hoop, sending Laura’s ball away to make room for them, and on the whole treating it rather harshly, Laura’s eyes flashing the while with vexation.

“I like croquet for some things,” said Laura’s partner, the thin curate, after vainly trying to render her a service; “I but it’s a very unchristian-like sort of game—one seems to give all one’s love to one’s friends, and to keep none for one’s enemies.”

“O, come, I say,” laughed Charley, who seemed to be in high spirits. “Here’s Mr Louther talking about love to Miss Bray!”

“Indeed, I assure you—” exclaimed the curate.

“But I distinctly heard the word,” laughed Charley.

“Was that meant for a witticism?” sneered Laura.

“Wit? no!” said Charley good-humouredly. “I never go in for that sort of thing.”

“Bai Jove, Vining! why don’t you attend to the ga-a-a-me?” drawled Max, who was suffering from too much of the second Miss Lingon—a young lady who looked upon him as an Adonis.

“Not my turn,” said Charley.

“Yes, yes!” said Hugh Lingon innocently. “Miss Bedford wants you to help her along!”

“Of course,” sneered Laura. “Such impudence!”

But Charley did not hear her words; for he was already half-way towards poor Ella, who seemed to shrink from him as he approached, and watched with a troubled breast the efforts he made upon her behalf.

“Now it’s my turn again,” said Hugh. “Now just give me your advice here, Vining. What ought I to do?”

Charley interrupted a remark he was making to Ella Bedford, and pointed out the most advantageous play, when Hugh Lingon raised his mallet, the blow fell, and—he missed.

“Now, did you ever see anything like that?” he exclaimed, appealing to the company.

“Yes, often!” laughed Charley.

“But what can be the reason?” exclaimed Lingon.

“Why, bai Jove! it’s because you’re such a muff, Lingon, bai Jove!” exclaimed Max.

“I am—I know I am!” said Lingon good-humouredly. “But, you know, I can’t help it—can’t indeed!”

The game went on with varying interest, Charley in the intervals trying to engage Ella in conversation; but only to find her retiring, almost distant, as from time to time she caught sight of a pair of fierce eyes bent upon her from beneath Laura’s frowning brows. But there was a sweetness of disposition beaming from Ella’s troubled countenance, and the tokens of a rare intellect in her few words—spoken to endeavour to direct him to seek for others with more conversational power, but with precisely the contrary effect—that seemed to rouse in Sir Philip Vining’s son feelings altogether new. He found himself dwelling upon every word, every sweet and musical tone, drinking in each troubled, trembling look, and listening with ill-concealed eagerness even for the words spoken to others.

“Bai Jove!” exclaimed Max at length, angrily to his sister, “what’s the matter with that Charley Vining?”

“Don’t ask me!” cried Laura pettishly, as she turned from him to listen to and then to snub the slim curate, who, after ten minutes’ consideration, had worked up and delivered a compliment.

Once only did Ella trust herself to look at Charley, taking in, though, with that glance the open-countenanced, happy English face of the young man, but shrinking within herself the next instant as she seemed to feel the bold, open, but still respectfully-admiring glance directed at her.

Two other croquet sets had been made upon the great lawn; and, taking the first opportunity, Ella had given up her mallet into other hands—an act, to Laura’s great disgust, imitated by Charley Vining, who, however, found no opportunity for again approaching Ella Bedford until the hour of dinner was announced, when, the major portion of the croquet-players having departed, the remainder—the invited few—met in the drawing-room.

Volume One—Chapter Twelve.Cross Upon Cross.“Will you take down Miss Bedford, Max?” said Mrs Bray, according to instructions from her son, who, however, was not present, his toilet having detained him; and, therefore, trembling Ella fell to the lot of Charley Vining, whom, she knew not why, she seemed to fear now as much as she did Max Bray.And yet she could not but own that he was only frank, cordial, and gentlemanly. Only! Was that all? She dared not answer that question. Neither could he answer sundry questions put by his own conscience, as from time to time he encountered angry, reproachful glances from the woman who sat opposite, but to whom, whatever might have been assumed, he had never uttered a word that could be construed into one of love.Somehow or another, during that dinner, Sir Philip’s words would keep repeating themselves to Charley, and at last he found himself muttering: “Shut myself out from an Eden—from an Eden!” while, when the ladies rose, and the door had closed upon the last rustling silk, a cloud appeared to have come over the scene, and he sat listening impatiently to the drawl of Max, and the agricultural converse of Mr Bray.It was with alacrity, then, that Charley left the table, when, upon reaching the drawing-room, he found Laura hovering in a paradise of musical R’s, as she sat at the piano, rolling them out in an Italian bravura song, whose pages, for fear that he should be forestalled by Charley Vining, Hugh Lingon rushed to turn over.“Now Miss Bedford will sing us something,” shrieked Mrs Bray; and not daring to decline, Ella rose and walked to the piano, taking up a song from the canterbury. But her hands trembled as a shadow seemed to be cast upon her; and without daring to look, she knew that Charley Vining was at her side, ready to turn over the leaves.“If he would only go!” she thought; and then she commenced with tremulous voice a sweet and plaintive ballad, breathing of home and the past, when, living as it were in the sweet strain, her voice increased in volume and pathos, the almost wild expression thrilling through her hearers, till towards the end of the last verse, when forgetting even Vining’s presence in the recollections evoked, Ella was brought back to the present with a start, as one single hot tear-drop fell upon her outstretched hand.How she finished that song she never knew, nor yet how she concealed her painful agitation; but her next recollection was of being in the conservatory with Charley Vining, alone, and with his deep-toned voice seeming to breathe only for her ear.“You must think it weak and childish,” he said softly; “but I could not help it,” he added simply. “Perhaps I am, after all, only an overgrown boy; but that was my dear mother’s favourite song—one which I have often listened to; and as you sung to-night, the old past seemed to come back almost painfully. But I need not fear that you will ridicule me.”“Indeed, no!” said Ella softly. “I can only regret that I gave you pain.”“Pain! No, it was not pain,” said Charley musingly. “I cannot explain the feeling. I am a great believer in the power of music; and had we been alone, I might have asked you to repeat the strain. I am only too glad, though, that my poor father was not here.”There was a pause for quite a minute—one which, finding how her companion had been moved, Ella almost feared to break; when seeing him start back, as it were, into the present and its duties, she made a movement as if to return.“But one minute, Miss Bedford,” said Charley. “You admire flowers, I see. Look at the metallic, silvery appearance of these leaves.”“Pray excuse me, Mr Vining,” said Ella quietly, “but I wish to return to the drawing-room.”“Yes—yes—certainly!” exclaimed Charley. “But one moment: I have something to say to you.”“Mr Vining is mistaken,” said Ella coldly; “he forgets that I am not a visitor or friend of the family. Pray allow me to return!”“Of course—yes!” said Charley. “But indeed I have something to say, Miss Bedford. Look here!”He drew the little gold cross from his pocket, and held it up in the soft twilight shed by the coloured lamps, when his companion uttered a cry of joy.“I have grieved so for its loss!” she exclaimed. “You found it?”“Yes; beneath that tree where you were taking refuge from the rain. I know it was my duty to have returned it sooner; but I wished to place it in your hands myself.”“O, thank you—I am so grateful!” exclaimed Ella, hardly noticing theempressementwith which he spoke.“I wished, too,” said Charley, speaking softly and deeply, “for some reward for what I have done.”“Reward?” ejaculated Ella.“Surely, yes,” said Charley, laying his hand upon the tiny glove resting upon his arm. “You would accord that to the poorest lout who had been the lucky finder.”“Reward, Mr Vining?” stammered Ella.“Yes!” exclaimed Charley, his rich deep voice growing softer as he spoke. “And but for those words upon the reverse side, I would have kept the cross as an emblem of my hope. I, too, had a mother who is but a memory now. But you will grant me what I ask?”“Mr Vining,” said Ella gravely, but unable to conceal her agitation, “will you kindly lead me back to the drawing-room?”“I thank you for restoring me the cross, which I had never hoped to see again.”She held out her hand, and the little ornament was immediately placed within her palm.“You see,” said Charley, “I trust to your honour. I am defenceless now, but you will give me my guerdon?”“Reward?” said Ella again.“Yes,” said Charley eagerly; “I do not ask much. That rose that you have worn the evening through: give me that—I ask no more.”“Mr Vining,” said the agitated girl, “I am poor and friendless, and here as a dependent. I say thus much, since I believe you to be a gentleman. You would not wilfully injure me, I am sure; but this prolonged absence may give umbrage to my employers. Once more, pray lead me back!”Charley was moved by the appeal, and he turned on the instant.“But you will give me that simple flower?” he said.“Mr Vining,” said Ella with dignity, “would you have me lose my self-respect? I thank you for the service—indeed I am most grateful—but I cannot accede to your request.”“I had hoped that I might be looked on as a friend,” said Charley gloomily, as he once more arrested his companion’s steps; “but there, I suppose if it had been—Pish! forgive me, pray!” he exclaimed. “How weak and contemptible I am! Miss Bedford, I am quite ashamed to have spoken so. But tell me that you forgive me, and—”“Is Miss Bedford so mortally offended?” said a voice close at their side. “I have no doubt we can manage to obtain her forgiveness for you, Mr Vining. But not to-night, as there will not be time.—Nelly wants you in the schoolroom, Miss Bedford, and then, as it is late, perhaps you had better not return to the drawing-room this evening.”Ella Bedford started, as, with flashing, angry eyes, Laura Bray stepped forward from behind the thick foliage of an orange-tree, and then, without a word—for she could not have spoken, so bitter, so cruel were the tones, and so deep the sting—Ella glided from the conservatory, leaving Laura face to face with Charley.“I am sorry to have interrupted so pleasant a tête-à-tête!” exclaimed Laura tauntingly.There was no answer. Charley merely leaned against the open window, and gazed out upon the starry night; for he could not trust himself to speak, since every humiliating word addressed to his late companion had seemed to cut into his own heart; and had he spoken, it would have been with some hot angry words, of which he would afterwards have repented.“Had I known that Mr Charles Vining was so pleasantly engaged, I would not have come,” said Laura again bitterly, and with reproach in every tone of her voice.Again angry words were on Charley’s lips; but for the sake of her who had left him he crushed them down, as he stood listening to the impatient foot of the angry girl beating the tiled floor, and seemed to feel her eyes burning him as they literally flashed with suppressed rage.“Perhaps now that Mr Vining is disengaged he will lead me back to the drawing-room, as it might be painful to his feelings for people afterwards to make remarks upon our absence.”Charley started at this, and made a movement as if to offer his arm; but the remembrance of the cruel insult to the dependent yet rankled in his breast, and he seemed to shrink from the angry woman as from something that he loathed.Laura saw it, and a sob of rage, disappointment, and passion combined burst from her breast. But even then, if he had made but one sign, she would have softened and thrown herself weeping upon his breast, reproaching, upbraiding, but loving still, and ready to forgive and forget all the past. But Charles Vining was touched to the quick, and, in spite of his calm unmoved aspect, he was hot with passion, wishing in his heart that Max had been the offender, that he might have quenched his rage by shaking him till those white teeth of his chattered again. Then came, though, the thought of Ella Bedford and her position. If he was cold and distant to Laura, would she not visit it upon that defenceless girl? Then he told himself she could behave with no greater cruelty, humiliate her no more, and he felt that he could not play the hypocrite. His growing dislike for Laura Bray was fast becoming a feeling of hatred, and facing her for a moment, he was about to leave the conservatory alone; but no, the gentlemanly courtesy came back—he could not be guilty of rudeness even to the woman he despised; and without a word, he offered his arm, and prepared to lead her back to the drawing-room.For a moment Laura made as if to take the proffered arm; but at that moment she caught sight of Charley’s frowning, angry face, when, with a cry of passionate grief, she darted past him, and the next instant he saw her cross the hall and hurry upstairs.“Hyar—hyar, Vining, mai dear fellow, where are you?” cried a drawling voice from the other end of the conservatory.“Confound it all!” ejaculated Charley, waking as it were into action at the tones of that voice, when with a bound he leaped from the window out on to the lawn, thrust out his Gibus hat, crushed it down again upon his head, and set off with long strides in the direction of the Court.

“Will you take down Miss Bedford, Max?” said Mrs Bray, according to instructions from her son, who, however, was not present, his toilet having detained him; and, therefore, trembling Ella fell to the lot of Charley Vining, whom, she knew not why, she seemed to fear now as much as she did Max Bray.

And yet she could not but own that he was only frank, cordial, and gentlemanly. Only! Was that all? She dared not answer that question. Neither could he answer sundry questions put by his own conscience, as from time to time he encountered angry, reproachful glances from the woman who sat opposite, but to whom, whatever might have been assumed, he had never uttered a word that could be construed into one of love.

Somehow or another, during that dinner, Sir Philip’s words would keep repeating themselves to Charley, and at last he found himself muttering: “Shut myself out from an Eden—from an Eden!” while, when the ladies rose, and the door had closed upon the last rustling silk, a cloud appeared to have come over the scene, and he sat listening impatiently to the drawl of Max, and the agricultural converse of Mr Bray.

It was with alacrity, then, that Charley left the table, when, upon reaching the drawing-room, he found Laura hovering in a paradise of musical R’s, as she sat at the piano, rolling them out in an Italian bravura song, whose pages, for fear that he should be forestalled by Charley Vining, Hugh Lingon rushed to turn over.

“Now Miss Bedford will sing us something,” shrieked Mrs Bray; and not daring to decline, Ella rose and walked to the piano, taking up a song from the canterbury. But her hands trembled as a shadow seemed to be cast upon her; and without daring to look, she knew that Charley Vining was at her side, ready to turn over the leaves.

“If he would only go!” she thought; and then she commenced with tremulous voice a sweet and plaintive ballad, breathing of home and the past, when, living as it were in the sweet strain, her voice increased in volume and pathos, the almost wild expression thrilling through her hearers, till towards the end of the last verse, when forgetting even Vining’s presence in the recollections evoked, Ella was brought back to the present with a start, as one single hot tear-drop fell upon her outstretched hand.

How she finished that song she never knew, nor yet how she concealed her painful agitation; but her next recollection was of being in the conservatory with Charley Vining, alone, and with his deep-toned voice seeming to breathe only for her ear.

“You must think it weak and childish,” he said softly; “but I could not help it,” he added simply. “Perhaps I am, after all, only an overgrown boy; but that was my dear mother’s favourite song—one which I have often listened to; and as you sung to-night, the old past seemed to come back almost painfully. But I need not fear that you will ridicule me.”

“Indeed, no!” said Ella softly. “I can only regret that I gave you pain.”

“Pain! No, it was not pain,” said Charley musingly. “I cannot explain the feeling. I am a great believer in the power of music; and had we been alone, I might have asked you to repeat the strain. I am only too glad, though, that my poor father was not here.”

There was a pause for quite a minute—one which, finding how her companion had been moved, Ella almost feared to break; when seeing him start back, as it were, into the present and its duties, she made a movement as if to return.

“But one minute, Miss Bedford,” said Charley. “You admire flowers, I see. Look at the metallic, silvery appearance of these leaves.”

“Pray excuse me, Mr Vining,” said Ella quietly, “but I wish to return to the drawing-room.”

“Yes—yes—certainly!” exclaimed Charley. “But one moment: I have something to say to you.”

“Mr Vining is mistaken,” said Ella coldly; “he forgets that I am not a visitor or friend of the family. Pray allow me to return!”

“Of course—yes!” said Charley. “But indeed I have something to say, Miss Bedford. Look here!”

He drew the little gold cross from his pocket, and held it up in the soft twilight shed by the coloured lamps, when his companion uttered a cry of joy.

“I have grieved so for its loss!” she exclaimed. “You found it?”

“Yes; beneath that tree where you were taking refuge from the rain. I know it was my duty to have returned it sooner; but I wished to place it in your hands myself.”

“O, thank you—I am so grateful!” exclaimed Ella, hardly noticing theempressementwith which he spoke.

“I wished, too,” said Charley, speaking softly and deeply, “for some reward for what I have done.”

“Reward?” ejaculated Ella.

“Surely, yes,” said Charley, laying his hand upon the tiny glove resting upon his arm. “You would accord that to the poorest lout who had been the lucky finder.”

“Reward, Mr Vining?” stammered Ella.

“Yes!” exclaimed Charley, his rich deep voice growing softer as he spoke. “And but for those words upon the reverse side, I would have kept the cross as an emblem of my hope. I, too, had a mother who is but a memory now. But you will grant me what I ask?”

“Mr Vining,” said Ella gravely, but unable to conceal her agitation, “will you kindly lead me back to the drawing-room?”

“I thank you for restoring me the cross, which I had never hoped to see again.”

She held out her hand, and the little ornament was immediately placed within her palm.

“You see,” said Charley, “I trust to your honour. I am defenceless now, but you will give me my guerdon?”

“Reward?” said Ella again.

“Yes,” said Charley eagerly; “I do not ask much. That rose that you have worn the evening through: give me that—I ask no more.”

“Mr Vining,” said the agitated girl, “I am poor and friendless, and here as a dependent. I say thus much, since I believe you to be a gentleman. You would not wilfully injure me, I am sure; but this prolonged absence may give umbrage to my employers. Once more, pray lead me back!”

Charley was moved by the appeal, and he turned on the instant.

“But you will give me that simple flower?” he said.

“Mr Vining,” said Ella with dignity, “would you have me lose my self-respect? I thank you for the service—indeed I am most grateful—but I cannot accede to your request.”

“I had hoped that I might be looked on as a friend,” said Charley gloomily, as he once more arrested his companion’s steps; “but there, I suppose if it had been—Pish! forgive me, pray!” he exclaimed. “How weak and contemptible I am! Miss Bedford, I am quite ashamed to have spoken so. But tell me that you forgive me, and—”

“Is Miss Bedford so mortally offended?” said a voice close at their side. “I have no doubt we can manage to obtain her forgiveness for you, Mr Vining. But not to-night, as there will not be time.—Nelly wants you in the schoolroom, Miss Bedford, and then, as it is late, perhaps you had better not return to the drawing-room this evening.”

Ella Bedford started, as, with flashing, angry eyes, Laura Bray stepped forward from behind the thick foliage of an orange-tree, and then, without a word—for she could not have spoken, so bitter, so cruel were the tones, and so deep the sting—Ella glided from the conservatory, leaving Laura face to face with Charley.

“I am sorry to have interrupted so pleasant a tête-à-tête!” exclaimed Laura tauntingly.

There was no answer. Charley merely leaned against the open window, and gazed out upon the starry night; for he could not trust himself to speak, since every humiliating word addressed to his late companion had seemed to cut into his own heart; and had he spoken, it would have been with some hot angry words, of which he would afterwards have repented.

“Had I known that Mr Charles Vining was so pleasantly engaged, I would not have come,” said Laura again bitterly, and with reproach in every tone of her voice.

Again angry words were on Charley’s lips; but for the sake of her who had left him he crushed them down, as he stood listening to the impatient foot of the angry girl beating the tiled floor, and seemed to feel her eyes burning him as they literally flashed with suppressed rage.

“Perhaps now that Mr Vining is disengaged he will lead me back to the drawing-room, as it might be painful to his feelings for people afterwards to make remarks upon our absence.”

Charley started at this, and made a movement as if to offer his arm; but the remembrance of the cruel insult to the dependent yet rankled in his breast, and he seemed to shrink from the angry woman as from something that he loathed.

Laura saw it, and a sob of rage, disappointment, and passion combined burst from her breast. But even then, if he had made but one sign, she would have softened and thrown herself weeping upon his breast, reproaching, upbraiding, but loving still, and ready to forgive and forget all the past. But Charles Vining was touched to the quick, and, in spite of his calm unmoved aspect, he was hot with passion, wishing in his heart that Max had been the offender, that he might have quenched his rage by shaking him till those white teeth of his chattered again. Then came, though, the thought of Ella Bedford and her position. If he was cold and distant to Laura, would she not visit it upon that defenceless girl? Then he told himself she could behave with no greater cruelty, humiliate her no more, and he felt that he could not play the hypocrite. His growing dislike for Laura Bray was fast becoming a feeling of hatred, and facing her for a moment, he was about to leave the conservatory alone; but no, the gentlemanly courtesy came back—he could not be guilty of rudeness even to the woman he despised; and without a word, he offered his arm, and prepared to lead her back to the drawing-room.

For a moment Laura made as if to take the proffered arm; but at that moment she caught sight of Charley’s frowning, angry face, when, with a cry of passionate grief, she darted past him, and the next instant he saw her cross the hall and hurry upstairs.

“Hyar—hyar, Vining, mai dear fellow, where are you?” cried a drawling voice from the other end of the conservatory.

“Confound it all!” ejaculated Charley, waking as it were into action at the tones of that voice, when with a bound he leaped from the window out on to the lawn, thrust out his Gibus hat, crushed it down again upon his head, and set off with long strides in the direction of the Court.

Volume One—Chapter Thirteen.The Clearing of a Doubt.“My dear boy, yes—of course I will; and we’ll have a nice affair of it! Edgington’s people shall fit up a tent and a kiosk, and we’ll try and do the thing nicely. You’re giving me great pleasure in this, Charley—you are indeed!”“Am I, father?” said Charley, whose heart smote him as he spoke, telling himself the while that he was deceiving the generous old man, with whom he had hitherto been open as the day.“Yes, my dear boy—yes, of course you are! It’s just what I wanted, Charley, to see you a little more inclined for society. You’ll have quite a large party, of course?”“Well, no, father,” said Charley; “I think not. Your large affairs are never so successful as the small ones.”“Just so, my dear boy; I think you are right. Well, have it as you please, precisely, only give your orders. Slave of the lamp, you know, Charley—slave of the lamp: what shall I do first?”“Well, dad,” said Charley, flushing slightly, “I thought, perhaps, you wouldn’t mind doing a little of the inviting for me.”“Of course not, my dear boy. Whom shall I ask first?”“Well, suppose you see the Brays,” said Charley, whose face certainly wore a deeper hue than usual.“To be sure, Charley!” said the old gentleman, smiling.“They’ve been very kind, and asked me there several times, so you’ll ask them all?”“Decidedly!” said the old gentleman.“We must have Max,” said Charley; “for he keeps hanging about here still.”“O, of course!” said Sir Philip.“And Laura, I suppose,” said Charley, feeling more and more conscience-stricken.“By all means, my dear boy!” laughed the father.“And then there are the three girls,and the governess,” said Charley.“Should you ask them?” said Sir Philip.“O yes, decidedly!” said Charley. “I’m very fond of that second girl, Nelly; she’s only a child, but there’s something nice and frank and open about her. She will be sure to make up for the unpleasantry of having Max.”“Very good, Charley—very good!” said Sir Philip.“I wouldn’t be put off with any of them,” said Charley, in a curious hesitating way. “Perhaps they’ll say that they had better not all come; but they can’t refuse you anything, so insist upon them bringing the children and Miss Bedford.”“Miss who?” said Sir Philip.“Miss Bedford—the governess,” said Charley, who coughed as if something had made him husky. “I particularly wish for them all to come.”“It shall be just as you like, my dear boy,” said Sir Philip gaily; “only let’s do the thing well, and not let them go away and find fault afterwards.”Charley Vining left his father ill at ease and dissatisfied, for he felt that he was deceiving the old man; but, like many more, he crushed down the obtrusive thoughts, and, going round to the stable, he mounted his mare as soon as it could be got ready, and rode slowly and thoughtfully away.“What’s come to the young governor?” said one of the stablemen.“O, the old game!” said another. “He’s been betting heavy on the Derby, and lost, and the old gentleman won’t pay his debts. I shouldn’t be at all surprised if as soon as he comes in for the place, he’ll make the money fly.”“Don’t think it’s that,” said the other. “But he never takes a bit of notice of his ’orses now; if they look well, they do, and if they don’t look well, they don’t; but he’s never got a word to say about them. There’s something wrong, safe.”There was a good deal of truth in the remarks of the servants; for the Charley Vining of the present was certainly not the Charley Vining of a month before. Since the night of the croquet-party he had several times met Laura Bray, who, like himself, had endeavoured to ignore entirely their encounter in the conservatory, speaking in the most friendly manner, and endeavouring to the best of her ability to bring Charley more to her side. In fact, so completely was the past evaded, that Charley called several times, meeting a warmer welcome at every visit; but not once did he encounter Ella. He was very little more fortunate during his rides: once he pressed forward his horse upon seeing her at some distance down a lane with the “children;” but suddenly Max Bray made his appearance, as if by magic, and fixing upon him, kept by his side for quite an hour; another time Max was walking with his sisters and their governess; while upon a third occasion Max was coming in the other direction, as if purposely to meet them, and as Charley rode away his brow grew dark, and he asked himself what it meant.In fact, watch as carefully as he would for a meeting, his efforts seemed in vain; while the more he was disappointed, the more eager he became.It was upon one of these occasions that he had drawn up his horse by a hedge-side, gazing angrily after the distant party, consisting of Ella, two of the children, and Max, when, angry and disappointed, he was considering whether he should canter up after them or turn back.“Why should I bother myself?” he muttered. “If she likes that donkey dangling after her, I’m quite convinced that she would not approve of rough unpolished me. I’ll give up. Max shall have the field to himself, and I’ll go back and ask the governor to let me live in peace. I’ve only been making a mistake, and neglecting everything for the sake of a pleasant-looking face. Hallo!”“Ha, ha, ha!” rang out a merry laugh.“Look at Sir Dismal, pausing thoughtfully beneath the trees.”Charley looked up, to see peering down upon him, from between the bushes on the high bank, the bright merry face of Nelly, with her hair tangled, her straw hat bent of brim, and a general aspect about her hot face and tumbled clothes of having been tearing through a wood.“What, my little dryad!” laughed out Charley, brightening in an instant. “How is the little wood-nymph?”“O, so jolly hot and tired, Charley! I’ve cut away from them, run up the bank, and scampered through Bosky Dell, and tore my dress ever so many times. But I wasn’t going to stay; at least, I ought to have stayed,” she added thoughtfully, “but I felt as if I couldn’t, for old Max would have made me ill—he would, bai Jove!” she laughed, mocking her brother’s drawl with all accuracy which delighted Charley.“Been having a walk?” he said.“Walk, yes,” exclaimed Nelly; “and one can’t stir without stupid old Max coming boring after us, bothering Miss Bedford to death with his drawling nonsense. She hates him, and he will follow us about, because he has grown so fond of his little sisters. But, I say, Charley Vining, do give me—no, not give, lend me sixpence to buy some sweets. We spent every halfpenny, and it isn’t pocket-money till to-morrow night.”“I never give money to beggars at the roadside,” laughed Charley, who seemed somehow to be brightening up under his young friend’s revelations.“Now don’t be a nuisance,” laughed Nelly, “or I’ll tease you. I know why you were looking down the lane so miserably; it was because Max was along with—”“Hold your tongue, do, you saucy puss!” roared Charley, with flaming face. “How dare you!”“There! I knew I was right,” laughed the girl. “I’m not a bit afraid of you, Charley Vining. But, I say, such a game: there, hold your arms, and I could jump down from here right on to the dear old mare just before you, and you could hold me tight, and we’d play at you being young Lochinvar, and gallop off with me. Wouldn’t it be fun?”“But there’s no bridegroom to dandle his bonnet and plume,” laughed Charley.“There’s an ungallant cavalier!” said Nelly, with her wicked eyes dancing with glee. “Now, if it had been Miss Bed—ha, ha, ha!” she shrieked, as Charley made a dash at her by forcing his mare half-way up the bank. “Don’t you do that, Charley, or you’ll go down again, and have to be carried on a gate—and I don’t want you to be hurt any more,” she said seriously. “But there, I must go back and save my poor dear darling Miss Bedford from being bored to death by old stupid. I’m glad I’ve seen you, though; it’s done me ever so much good. I say, Charley Vining, isn’t Miss Bedford nice?”“I daresay she is; but I know very little of her,” said Charley coolly.“O, there’s a story!” exclaimed downright Nelly. “I know you think ever so much of her, or else you would not stop looking miserable after her. There, I’ve done, and I won’t tease you any more; but I do want to borrow sixpence. Old Max wouldn’t lend me one if I was starving. Thank you! O, a shilling!” exclaimed Nelly, actively catching the coin he threw. “Now I’m going; but, I say, do come and see us. You would like my Miss Bedford so!”Before Charley Vining could answer, Nelly had dashed off, taking a short cut, and he saw her no more; but from that day Charley’s spirits rose; and when once or twice more he encountered the walking party, he did not feel so troubled of heart, but rode gaily up, saluting all, taking the first opportunity of frowning and shaking his head at merry laughing Nelly.

“My dear boy, yes—of course I will; and we’ll have a nice affair of it! Edgington’s people shall fit up a tent and a kiosk, and we’ll try and do the thing nicely. You’re giving me great pleasure in this, Charley—you are indeed!”

“Am I, father?” said Charley, whose heart smote him as he spoke, telling himself the while that he was deceiving the generous old man, with whom he had hitherto been open as the day.

“Yes, my dear boy—yes, of course you are! It’s just what I wanted, Charley, to see you a little more inclined for society. You’ll have quite a large party, of course?”

“Well, no, father,” said Charley; “I think not. Your large affairs are never so successful as the small ones.”

“Just so, my dear boy; I think you are right. Well, have it as you please, precisely, only give your orders. Slave of the lamp, you know, Charley—slave of the lamp: what shall I do first?”

“Well, dad,” said Charley, flushing slightly, “I thought, perhaps, you wouldn’t mind doing a little of the inviting for me.”

“Of course not, my dear boy. Whom shall I ask first?”

“Well, suppose you see the Brays,” said Charley, whose face certainly wore a deeper hue than usual.

“To be sure, Charley!” said the old gentleman, smiling.

“They’ve been very kind, and asked me there several times, so you’ll ask them all?”

“Decidedly!” said the old gentleman.

“We must have Max,” said Charley; “for he keeps hanging about here still.”

“O, of course!” said Sir Philip.

“And Laura, I suppose,” said Charley, feeling more and more conscience-stricken.

“By all means, my dear boy!” laughed the father.

“And then there are the three girls,and the governess,” said Charley.

“Should you ask them?” said Sir Philip.

“O yes, decidedly!” said Charley. “I’m very fond of that second girl, Nelly; she’s only a child, but there’s something nice and frank and open about her. She will be sure to make up for the unpleasantry of having Max.”

“Very good, Charley—very good!” said Sir Philip.

“I wouldn’t be put off with any of them,” said Charley, in a curious hesitating way. “Perhaps they’ll say that they had better not all come; but they can’t refuse you anything, so insist upon them bringing the children and Miss Bedford.”

“Miss who?” said Sir Philip.

“Miss Bedford—the governess,” said Charley, who coughed as if something had made him husky. “I particularly wish for them all to come.”

“It shall be just as you like, my dear boy,” said Sir Philip gaily; “only let’s do the thing well, and not let them go away and find fault afterwards.”

Charley Vining left his father ill at ease and dissatisfied, for he felt that he was deceiving the old man; but, like many more, he crushed down the obtrusive thoughts, and, going round to the stable, he mounted his mare as soon as it could be got ready, and rode slowly and thoughtfully away.

“What’s come to the young governor?” said one of the stablemen.

“O, the old game!” said another. “He’s been betting heavy on the Derby, and lost, and the old gentleman won’t pay his debts. I shouldn’t be at all surprised if as soon as he comes in for the place, he’ll make the money fly.”

“Don’t think it’s that,” said the other. “But he never takes a bit of notice of his ’orses now; if they look well, they do, and if they don’t look well, they don’t; but he’s never got a word to say about them. There’s something wrong, safe.”

There was a good deal of truth in the remarks of the servants; for the Charley Vining of the present was certainly not the Charley Vining of a month before. Since the night of the croquet-party he had several times met Laura Bray, who, like himself, had endeavoured to ignore entirely their encounter in the conservatory, speaking in the most friendly manner, and endeavouring to the best of her ability to bring Charley more to her side. In fact, so completely was the past evaded, that Charley called several times, meeting a warmer welcome at every visit; but not once did he encounter Ella. He was very little more fortunate during his rides: once he pressed forward his horse upon seeing her at some distance down a lane with the “children;” but suddenly Max Bray made his appearance, as if by magic, and fixing upon him, kept by his side for quite an hour; another time Max was walking with his sisters and their governess; while upon a third occasion Max was coming in the other direction, as if purposely to meet them, and as Charley rode away his brow grew dark, and he asked himself what it meant.

In fact, watch as carefully as he would for a meeting, his efforts seemed in vain; while the more he was disappointed, the more eager he became.

It was upon one of these occasions that he had drawn up his horse by a hedge-side, gazing angrily after the distant party, consisting of Ella, two of the children, and Max, when, angry and disappointed, he was considering whether he should canter up after them or turn back.

“Why should I bother myself?” he muttered. “If she likes that donkey dangling after her, I’m quite convinced that she would not approve of rough unpolished me. I’ll give up. Max shall have the field to himself, and I’ll go back and ask the governor to let me live in peace. I’ve only been making a mistake, and neglecting everything for the sake of a pleasant-looking face. Hallo!”

“Ha, ha, ha!” rang out a merry laugh.

“Look at Sir Dismal, pausing thoughtfully beneath the trees.”

Charley looked up, to see peering down upon him, from between the bushes on the high bank, the bright merry face of Nelly, with her hair tangled, her straw hat bent of brim, and a general aspect about her hot face and tumbled clothes of having been tearing through a wood.

“What, my little dryad!” laughed out Charley, brightening in an instant. “How is the little wood-nymph?”

“O, so jolly hot and tired, Charley! I’ve cut away from them, run up the bank, and scampered through Bosky Dell, and tore my dress ever so many times. But I wasn’t going to stay; at least, I ought to have stayed,” she added thoughtfully, “but I felt as if I couldn’t, for old Max would have made me ill—he would, bai Jove!” she laughed, mocking her brother’s drawl with all accuracy which delighted Charley.

“Been having a walk?” he said.

“Walk, yes,” exclaimed Nelly; “and one can’t stir without stupid old Max coming boring after us, bothering Miss Bedford to death with his drawling nonsense. She hates him, and he will follow us about, because he has grown so fond of his little sisters. But, I say, Charley Vining, do give me—no, not give, lend me sixpence to buy some sweets. We spent every halfpenny, and it isn’t pocket-money till to-morrow night.”

“I never give money to beggars at the roadside,” laughed Charley, who seemed somehow to be brightening up under his young friend’s revelations.

“Now don’t be a nuisance,” laughed Nelly, “or I’ll tease you. I know why you were looking down the lane so miserably; it was because Max was along with—”

“Hold your tongue, do, you saucy puss!” roared Charley, with flaming face. “How dare you!”

“There! I knew I was right,” laughed the girl. “I’m not a bit afraid of you, Charley Vining. But, I say, such a game: there, hold your arms, and I could jump down from here right on to the dear old mare just before you, and you could hold me tight, and we’d play at you being young Lochinvar, and gallop off with me. Wouldn’t it be fun?”

“But there’s no bridegroom to dandle his bonnet and plume,” laughed Charley.

“There’s an ungallant cavalier!” said Nelly, with her wicked eyes dancing with glee. “Now, if it had been Miss Bed—ha, ha, ha!” she shrieked, as Charley made a dash at her by forcing his mare half-way up the bank. “Don’t you do that, Charley, or you’ll go down again, and have to be carried on a gate—and I don’t want you to be hurt any more,” she said seriously. “But there, I must go back and save my poor dear darling Miss Bedford from being bored to death by old stupid. I’m glad I’ve seen you, though; it’s done me ever so much good. I say, Charley Vining, isn’t Miss Bedford nice?”

“I daresay she is; but I know very little of her,” said Charley coolly.

“O, there’s a story!” exclaimed downright Nelly. “I know you think ever so much of her, or else you would not stop looking miserable after her. There, I’ve done, and I won’t tease you any more; but I do want to borrow sixpence. Old Max wouldn’t lend me one if I was starving. Thank you! O, a shilling!” exclaimed Nelly, actively catching the coin he threw. “Now I’m going; but, I say, do come and see us. You would like my Miss Bedford so!”

Before Charley Vining could answer, Nelly had dashed off, taking a short cut, and he saw her no more; but from that day Charley’s spirits rose; and when once or twice more he encountered the walking party, he did not feel so troubled of heart, but rode gaily up, saluting all, taking the first opportunity of frowning and shaking his head at merry laughing Nelly.

Volume One—Chapter Fourteen.A Family Party.“Surely, Miss Bedford, you never think of going to Sir Philip Vining’s party such a figure as that!”It was the day of the Blandfield Court invitation, and the ladies were assembling in the drawing-room. For, some days before, in accordance with his promise, Sir Philip had been over to the Elms, taking Laura quite by surprise when he supplemented his invitation by a request that Miss Bedford might also be of the party.“Miss Bedford—our governess!” stammered Laura, completely taken aback.But she was herself again the next instant, as she saw through the arrangement.“Sir Philip has been deceived,” she thought; “but I am not so easily put off, nor yet cast off,” she muttered.What should she do? Display open anger, or temporise until Ella Bedford could be dismissed—ignominiously dismissed—from her situation?Laura Bray was angry, and therefore she talked to herself in strong language, and called things by unpleasant names. But she must act in some way, she thought; it would never do for her to give up all for which her ambitious nature thirsted. She had set herself upon being Lady Vining, and after a fashion she loved Charley, who, from being free and friendly, and on happy laughing terms with her, seemed daily to be growing more and more distant; for she was not deceived by his assumed sociability. She herself had acted so as to try and efface the past; but there was still the recollection of the conservatory scene, and though she tried to set it down as merely a bit of flirtation—one that she ought to pass over without notice—her heart would not accept of the flattering unction; for she knew Charley Vining to be too sterling, too generous a man to trifle with the feelings of any woman.Then why was he trifling with her? she exclaimed vehemently. Had she no claims to his consideration? There was a dull heavy feeling came over her, as she thought of how he had never been more than friend to her, and that the warmth had been entirely on one side.But she felt that it would not do to show her anger—kindness would perhaps work a change; and until her rival—no, she would not dignify her with that title—till this governess had gone, she would assume an appearance of sorrow, trying the while to win Charley back from his passing fancy. She could have bitten her tongue for the ill-judged hasty words she had spoken; but O, if she could but detect this Miss Bedford in some light coquettish act, some behaviour too frivolous for her position, it should go hard with her!—for at the present—probably on account of the dislike openly shown—Mrs Bray and her hopeful son seemed disposed to treat their dependent with more consideration, which was really the case on the part of the former, whose mental constitution was such that she could not conceive the possibility of any one holding a paid position to perform certain duties possessing the sensitiveness and thoughts of a lady.Laura had determined to temporise, and also to counterplot. It struck her that Sir Philip had been deceived, and hurriedly rising, she left the room.It was evident to her sharpened perceptibilities that it was Charley’s doing that Miss Bedford was invited; and she determined Sir Philip Vining should see who was the lady his son wished to be of the party.Laura’s heart beat quickly, as, with assumed kindness and gentleness of mien, she returned from the schoolroom with Ella, and introduced her to Sir Philip.“I thought that Miss Bedford would like to thank you herself, Sir Philip, for your kind invitation,” she said, by way of explanation of her sudden act; and then she watched attentively the effect produced.She was right. Sir Philip was startled, and as he rose to cordially greet and repeat his invitation, he gazed almost wonderingly at the sweet mien and gentle face before him, raising Ella’s hand, and with all the grace of an old courtier, kissing it respectfully, moved by the true homage he felt for so much youth and beauty. But as he released her hand, there was a troubled puzzled look in the old gentleman’s face—a look that was still there when at last he took his leave to go thoughtfully homeward; for now it again struck him that Charley’s impressive demand that the governess should be asked was a little strange, though here was the key.Sir Philip dismissed the thought that oppressed him, though. Charley was too noble to be moved by any disloyal acts; and as to stooping—pooh! it was absurd! He was growing an old woman, full of nervous fears and fancies; and casting his “whimsies,” as he called them, away, he entered with all his heart into the preparations for the little fête.And now the day had arrived, and the ladies were assembling in the drawing-room, where Mr Bray and “Mr Maximilian” were already waiting. Mrs Bray had sailed and rustled into the room in a tremendously stiff green brocade dress, to be complimented by her lord as resembling a laurel hedge, and by her son for her May-day aspect and Jack-in-the-green look. But Mrs Bray was satisfied, and that was everything. Her satisfaction was evident by the way in which she swept round the room, making a vortex that caught up the light chairs and loose articles that came within its reach.“Bai Jove, there, why don’t you mind!” exclaimed Max, as the glossy hat left upon the couch was sent spinning across the room. “Why don’t you sit down?”Mrs Bray did not reply, but she would not have sat down in that dress, save in the carriage, upon any consideration—at all events, not until after it had been seen at Blandfield.Max’s hat was made smooth sooner than his temper, and he was still muttering and grumbling when Nelly and her sisters came bounding in, like three tall, thin, peripatetic tulips, followed closely by Laura, glorious with black hair, flashing eyes, amber moiré, and black lace.Mr Onesimus Bray placed his hands in his pockets and walked smilingly round his daughter, in whom he took immense pride; but the attempt that he made to kiss her was received with a shriek of horror, his daughter darting back beyond his reach, and at the same time bringing forth an oath from her brother’s lips, as she swept the glossy, newly-brushed hat from the marqueterie table whereon it had been placed for safety.“For shame, Max!” exclaimed his mother.“Bai Jove, then, it’s enough to make an angel swear! How would you like a fellow to tread on your bonnets?”The ladies shuddered.“Never mind, then—a poor old Max!” exclaimed mischievous Nelly, who had but a few minutes before been snubbed by her brother; and, stooping down, she picked up the unfortunate hat, and, before she could be arrested, carefully brushed all the nap up the wrong way, Max sitting completely astounded the while at the outrage put upon him.What he would have said remains to this day unknown. His mouth had gasped open after the fashion of an expiring aquarium pet, and he was about to ejaculate, when he stopped short; for Ella Bedford came quietly into the room, the centre, as it were, of a soft cloud of grey barège, which gave to her pale gentle features almost an ethereal expression, but which called forth from the gorgeous amber queen the remark standing at the head of this chapter:“Surely, Miss Bedford, you never think of going to Sir Philip Vining’s party such a figure as that!”Ella coloured up, and then said gently: “Shall I change the dress for a plain muslin, Miss Bray?”“O, I’m sure I don’t know!” exclaimed Laura, with a toss. “I think—”“I think the dress looks uncommonly nice, Miss Bedford—I do, bai Jove!” drawled Max, fixing his glass in his eye, and staring furiously.It was the first act of kindness Max Bray had done for many a long day; but it caused a shrinking sensation in her for whom it was intended, while Laura darted at her a fierce look of hatred, and then an angry glance at her brother.Ella looked inquiringly at Mrs Bray, as if for instructions; but that lady always sided with son Max, as did Mr Bray, as far as he dared, with his daughter.“I almost think—” he ventured to observe.“Don’t talk stuff, Ness!” shrieked his lady. “What do you know about a lady’s dress? If it was a fleece or a pig—There, I think Miss Bedford’s things will do very nicely indeed; and if some people would only dress as neatly, it wouldn’t half ruin their parents in dressmakers’ bills.”Laura did not condescend to answer, but throwing herself into a chair, she took up a book, pretending to read, but holding it upside down, till Nelly laughingly called attention to the fact.“Pert child!” exclaimed Laura fiercely.“Don’t care!” laughed Nelly. “So the bookwasupside down; and I’d rather be a pert child than a disagreeable, sour old maid!”“You’d better send that rude tom-boy to bed—you had, bai Jove!” drawled Max.“Ah!—and I’d rather be a rude tom-boy than a great girl, bai Jove, Mr Max!” cried Nelly; whereupon Mr Bray laughed, Mrs Bray scolded, and Nelly pretended to cry, directing a comical look the while at her father, who, whatever his weakness, was passionately fond of his girls.The crunching of the gravel by the wheels of the wagonette put a stop to the rather unpleasant scene, when, to Laura’s surprise, Max jumped up and handed Ella down to the carriage, returning afterwards for his sister, who favoured him with a peculiarly meaning look; one which he replied to in as supercilious a manner as he could assume.“What does it mean, Max?” she whispered, as they descended the stairs. “More affection for your little sisters?”“My dear Laura,” drawled Max, “will you take my advice and adopt a motto?”“Motto?” said Laura inquiringly.“Ya-as, bai Jove! the very one for you—just suited to the occasion:Laissez-aller. Do you understand?”Laura looked at him meaningly, but made no reply, for they had reached the carriage.

“Surely, Miss Bedford, you never think of going to Sir Philip Vining’s party such a figure as that!”

It was the day of the Blandfield Court invitation, and the ladies were assembling in the drawing-room. For, some days before, in accordance with his promise, Sir Philip had been over to the Elms, taking Laura quite by surprise when he supplemented his invitation by a request that Miss Bedford might also be of the party.

“Miss Bedford—our governess!” stammered Laura, completely taken aback.

But she was herself again the next instant, as she saw through the arrangement.

“Sir Philip has been deceived,” she thought; “but I am not so easily put off, nor yet cast off,” she muttered.

What should she do? Display open anger, or temporise until Ella Bedford could be dismissed—ignominiously dismissed—from her situation?

Laura Bray was angry, and therefore she talked to herself in strong language, and called things by unpleasant names. But she must act in some way, she thought; it would never do for her to give up all for which her ambitious nature thirsted. She had set herself upon being Lady Vining, and after a fashion she loved Charley, who, from being free and friendly, and on happy laughing terms with her, seemed daily to be growing more and more distant; for she was not deceived by his assumed sociability. She herself had acted so as to try and efface the past; but there was still the recollection of the conservatory scene, and though she tried to set it down as merely a bit of flirtation—one that she ought to pass over without notice—her heart would not accept of the flattering unction; for she knew Charley Vining to be too sterling, too generous a man to trifle with the feelings of any woman.

Then why was he trifling with her? she exclaimed vehemently. Had she no claims to his consideration? There was a dull heavy feeling came over her, as she thought of how he had never been more than friend to her, and that the warmth had been entirely on one side.

But she felt that it would not do to show her anger—kindness would perhaps work a change; and until her rival—no, she would not dignify her with that title—till this governess had gone, she would assume an appearance of sorrow, trying the while to win Charley back from his passing fancy. She could have bitten her tongue for the ill-judged hasty words she had spoken; but O, if she could but detect this Miss Bedford in some light coquettish act, some behaviour too frivolous for her position, it should go hard with her!—for at the present—probably on account of the dislike openly shown—Mrs Bray and her hopeful son seemed disposed to treat their dependent with more consideration, which was really the case on the part of the former, whose mental constitution was such that she could not conceive the possibility of any one holding a paid position to perform certain duties possessing the sensitiveness and thoughts of a lady.

Laura had determined to temporise, and also to counterplot. It struck her that Sir Philip had been deceived, and hurriedly rising, she left the room.

It was evident to her sharpened perceptibilities that it was Charley’s doing that Miss Bedford was invited; and she determined Sir Philip Vining should see who was the lady his son wished to be of the party.

Laura’s heart beat quickly, as, with assumed kindness and gentleness of mien, she returned from the schoolroom with Ella, and introduced her to Sir Philip.

“I thought that Miss Bedford would like to thank you herself, Sir Philip, for your kind invitation,” she said, by way of explanation of her sudden act; and then she watched attentively the effect produced.

She was right. Sir Philip was startled, and as he rose to cordially greet and repeat his invitation, he gazed almost wonderingly at the sweet mien and gentle face before him, raising Ella’s hand, and with all the grace of an old courtier, kissing it respectfully, moved by the true homage he felt for so much youth and beauty. But as he released her hand, there was a troubled puzzled look in the old gentleman’s face—a look that was still there when at last he took his leave to go thoughtfully homeward; for now it again struck him that Charley’s impressive demand that the governess should be asked was a little strange, though here was the key.

Sir Philip dismissed the thought that oppressed him, though. Charley was too noble to be moved by any disloyal acts; and as to stooping—pooh! it was absurd! He was growing an old woman, full of nervous fears and fancies; and casting his “whimsies,” as he called them, away, he entered with all his heart into the preparations for the little fête.

And now the day had arrived, and the ladies were assembling in the drawing-room, where Mr Bray and “Mr Maximilian” were already waiting. Mrs Bray had sailed and rustled into the room in a tremendously stiff green brocade dress, to be complimented by her lord as resembling a laurel hedge, and by her son for her May-day aspect and Jack-in-the-green look. But Mrs Bray was satisfied, and that was everything. Her satisfaction was evident by the way in which she swept round the room, making a vortex that caught up the light chairs and loose articles that came within its reach.

“Bai Jove, there, why don’t you mind!” exclaimed Max, as the glossy hat left upon the couch was sent spinning across the room. “Why don’t you sit down?”

Mrs Bray did not reply, but she would not have sat down in that dress, save in the carriage, upon any consideration—at all events, not until after it had been seen at Blandfield.

Max’s hat was made smooth sooner than his temper, and he was still muttering and grumbling when Nelly and her sisters came bounding in, like three tall, thin, peripatetic tulips, followed closely by Laura, glorious with black hair, flashing eyes, amber moiré, and black lace.

Mr Onesimus Bray placed his hands in his pockets and walked smilingly round his daughter, in whom he took immense pride; but the attempt that he made to kiss her was received with a shriek of horror, his daughter darting back beyond his reach, and at the same time bringing forth an oath from her brother’s lips, as she swept the glossy, newly-brushed hat from the marqueterie table whereon it had been placed for safety.

“For shame, Max!” exclaimed his mother.

“Bai Jove, then, it’s enough to make an angel swear! How would you like a fellow to tread on your bonnets?”

The ladies shuddered.

“Never mind, then—a poor old Max!” exclaimed mischievous Nelly, who had but a few minutes before been snubbed by her brother; and, stooping down, she picked up the unfortunate hat, and, before she could be arrested, carefully brushed all the nap up the wrong way, Max sitting completely astounded the while at the outrage put upon him.

What he would have said remains to this day unknown. His mouth had gasped open after the fashion of an expiring aquarium pet, and he was about to ejaculate, when he stopped short; for Ella Bedford came quietly into the room, the centre, as it were, of a soft cloud of grey barège, which gave to her pale gentle features almost an ethereal expression, but which called forth from the gorgeous amber queen the remark standing at the head of this chapter:

“Surely, Miss Bedford, you never think of going to Sir Philip Vining’s party such a figure as that!”

Ella coloured up, and then said gently: “Shall I change the dress for a plain muslin, Miss Bray?”

“O, I’m sure I don’t know!” exclaimed Laura, with a toss. “I think—”

“I think the dress looks uncommonly nice, Miss Bedford—I do, bai Jove!” drawled Max, fixing his glass in his eye, and staring furiously.

It was the first act of kindness Max Bray had done for many a long day; but it caused a shrinking sensation in her for whom it was intended, while Laura darted at her a fierce look of hatred, and then an angry glance at her brother.

Ella looked inquiringly at Mrs Bray, as if for instructions; but that lady always sided with son Max, as did Mr Bray, as far as he dared, with his daughter.

“I almost think—” he ventured to observe.

“Don’t talk stuff, Ness!” shrieked his lady. “What do you know about a lady’s dress? If it was a fleece or a pig—There, I think Miss Bedford’s things will do very nicely indeed; and if some people would only dress as neatly, it wouldn’t half ruin their parents in dressmakers’ bills.”

Laura did not condescend to answer, but throwing herself into a chair, she took up a book, pretending to read, but holding it upside down, till Nelly laughingly called attention to the fact.

“Pert child!” exclaimed Laura fiercely.

“Don’t care!” laughed Nelly. “So the bookwasupside down; and I’d rather be a pert child than a disagreeable, sour old maid!”

“You’d better send that rude tom-boy to bed—you had, bai Jove!” drawled Max.

“Ah!—and I’d rather be a rude tom-boy than a great girl, bai Jove, Mr Max!” cried Nelly; whereupon Mr Bray laughed, Mrs Bray scolded, and Nelly pretended to cry, directing a comical look the while at her father, who, whatever his weakness, was passionately fond of his girls.

The crunching of the gravel by the wheels of the wagonette put a stop to the rather unpleasant scene, when, to Laura’s surprise, Max jumped up and handed Ella down to the carriage, returning afterwards for his sister, who favoured him with a peculiarly meaning look; one which he replied to in as supercilious a manner as he could assume.

“What does it mean, Max?” she whispered, as they descended the stairs. “More affection for your little sisters?”

“My dear Laura,” drawled Max, “will you take my advice and adopt a motto?”

“Motto?” said Laura inquiringly.

“Ya-as, bai Jove! the very one for you—just suited to the occasion:Laissez-aller. Do you understand?”

Laura looked at him meaningly, but made no reply, for they had reached the carriage.

Volume One—Chapter Fifteen.Charley’s Fête.In spite of her annoyance, Laura’s eyes sparkled when they reached the Court; for Sir Philip hurried to the carriage, welcoming the party most warmly, and, handing her out, he led her himself to the beautiful little kiosk, and then took her from place to place, according to her attentions that made more than one match-making mamma with marriageable daughters look meaningly at the same daughters, and then think of Charley Vining with a sigh.But if Laura was in high glee, so was not Max, who had to stand by while Charley carried off Ella Bedford, Nelly laughingly fastening upon his other arm.“A rude coarse beast, bai Jove!” muttered Max elegantly, as he tried vainly to get the little button of his glove secured. “Let him have a fall again, and see if I’ll go to his help!”“I shall come with you if I may,” said Nelly demurely.“To be sure!” laughed Charley, whose heart throbbed with pleasure as he felt—nay, hardly felt—the light pressure of the grey glove upon his arm. “Miss Bedford won’t mind, I hope. Do you know, Miss Bedford, I’m rather glad you are with us? I’m almost afraid Nelly means some inroad upon my purse.”“No, I don’t,” said Nelly, “so don’t be afraid;” and then she walked very demurely by their side, Charley encouraging her to stay upon observing Ella’s constraint and troubled looks.“She’d be off like a frightened pigeon—dove, I mean!” muttered Charley, as he looked down at the almost painful face beside him. But a little quiet conversation upon current topics seemed to set her more at ease, and, after a while, Hugh Lingon approaching, Charley Vining whispered, loudly enough, though, for Nelly to hear:“Now I’m going, Miss Bedford, for here comes Nelly’s intended. I hope you will play thechaperonemost stringently.”Nelly rewarded him with a sharp pinch as he left them, Hugh Lingon taking his place; and Ella, whose heart beat almost painfully, asking herself the reason why.But Charley Vining had laid his plans that day, and he felt he must proceed with caution. So hurrying himself, he acted the part of host with admirable tact, picking out the ladies who seemed neglected, forming sets for croquet, handing refreshments, or escorting little parties to the lake-like river for boating; distributing himself, as it were, throughout the grounds, and at last interrupting a tête-à-tête between Laura and Hugh Lingon, who had soon forsaken the ladies left in his charge.Laura commenced a littleminauderie, professing to be unable to leave Mr Lingon; but she gave up directly she saw Charley’s laugh, for she knew that it would be—nay, was—seen through. She knew Charley Vining to be different from most men of her acquaintance; and accepting his offer, she gladly took his arm, making the match-making mammas to whisper, as the handsome couple passed through the grounds, “There, didn’t I tell you so?” and then to gossip about how they had had their suspicions concerning the purpose of the fête.But Laura’s pleasure was but short-lived; for though Charley was pleasant, gay, and chatty, he was nothing more, and though he carefully avoided referring to the croquet-party, she felt that he was not as she could wish.“He’ll go back to her as soon as, with any decency, he can,” she thought; and her teeth were set, and her fingers clenched, pressing the nails almost through her gloves, as she forced back a sigh.But she soon cheered up, for she told herself it was not for long, and determined to try if gentleness would gain the day; she listened to all her companion said, striving the while, without being obtrusive, to obliterate her past words of anger.Laura was wrong; for it was not for a considerable time, and until he had played cavalier to many a lady—winning the thanks and smiles of Sir Philip, who was delighted at his son’s efforts—that he sought once more Ella Bedford, followed by Sir Philip’s eyes; the old gentleman gazing uneasily after him as he went up and offered his arm, which was reluctantly taken.“I’m going now,” said Nelly, who had kept with her guard the whole time; “I want something to eat. I declare, Charley Vining, I’ve only had one thin slice of butter spread with bread-crumbs, and a cup of tea;” and before a word could be said, she had darted off.Sir Philip’s were not the only eyes that followed Charley Vining to where sat Ella Bedford; for as Max Bray followed him at a distance, as if by accident Laura did the same, and brother and sister gave genuine starts as they encountered at the union of two alleys.“Grows quite romantic, bai Jove!” sneered Max; but he relapsed into an uncomfortable look on seeing the penetrating gaze directed at him by his sister.“Let me take your arm,” she said coldly; and then, as the shades of evening were fast falling, they walked slowly on together, towards a part of the grounds now apparently deserted.Meanwhile Charley Vining had led Ella across the lawn, pressing her to partake of some refreshment, but in vain; and at last, in spite of herself, she found that she was alone with him, in a secluded part of the grounds.“There is a seat here,” said Charley. “Shall we rest for a few minutes?”“It would hardly be advisable,” was the quiet reply; “the evening is damp.” And then for a few moments there was a pause, as they still walked slowly on, Charley with his heart beating heavily, and Ella eager to return to the throng upon the lawn—a throng that the afternoon through she had avoided—and hardly liking to speak, lest she might betray her agitation, and that she looked upon this otherwise than as an ordinary attention of host to one of his guests.For Ella was not blind: her woman’s instinct had whispered to her respecting the many attentions pressed upon her, and she trembled as she recalled the night when the cross was returned; for her heart told her that such things must not be—that she must be cold and cautious, guarding and steeling herself against tender emotions, for she was but the poor paid governess, and this man, whose arm she lightly touched, was almost engaged to Laura Bray.But the silence was broken at length by Charley, who spoke deeply, as he stopped short by a standard covered with pale white roses, whose perfume seemed shed around upon the soft night air.“Miss Bedford,” he said, “I have been in pain, almost in agony, for many days past; and till I found that I had been wronging you, it seemed to me that life was going to be unbearable.”“Pain!—wronging me!” exclaimed Ella.“Yes,” he said; “but hear me out. I am no polished speaker, Miss Bedford—only a simple, blunt, and I hope honest and truthful man. A week or two since I believed that you favoured the suit of Max Bray: to-night I will not insult you with questions, but tell you honestly I do not believe that to be the case; and when the conviction flashed upon me that I was wrong, I tell you frankly my heart leaped with joy. You may ask why: I will tell you.”“Mr Vining,” exclaimed Ella, “this must not be; you forget yourself, your position—you forget me when you talk so. Pray lead me back.”“You speak as if my words pained you, Miss Bedford,” said Charley huskily. “Pray forgive me if they do. Nay, but a few minutes longer.”He caught one hand in his, and as she glanced for an instant in his direction, the rising moon gleaming through the trees lit up his handsome earnest face, photographing it, as it were, upon her brain; for to her dying day she never forgot that look—that countenance so imploringly turned upon her.“Miss Bedford—Ella,” he whispered, “I love you tenderly and devotedly! This is no light declaration: till I saw you, woman never occupied my thoughts. You see by my brusque ways, my bluntness, that I have been no dallier in drawing-rooms, no holder of lady’s silk. Till now, my loves have been in the stables, kennels, fields. Blunt language this—uncomplimentary perhaps; but I am no courtier. I speak as I feel, and I tell you that to win your love in return would be to make me a happy man.”“Mr Vining,” exclaimed Ella, vainly trying to release her hand, “lead me back, pray!”“Nay,” said Charley, with sadness in his tones, “I will not force you to listen to me;” and he released her hand. “I was hopeful that you would have listened to my suit.”“Indeed—indeed,” said Ella, “I cannot, Mr Vining: it can never be. You forget—position—me!”She could say no more—her words seemed to stifle her; and had she continued speaking, she felt that she would have burst into tears.“I forget nothing,” said Charley, almost sternly. “How can I forget? How can I ever forget? But surely,” he said, once more catching her hand in his—“surely you cannot with that sweet gentle face be cruel, and love to torture one who has spoken simply the truth—laid bare to you his feelings! You believe what I say?”“Yes, yes!” almost sobbed Ella. “But indeed—indeed it can never be. Do not think me either harsh or cruel, for I mean it not.”“What am I to think then?” said Charley bitterly. “Is it that you reject me utterly, or am I so poor a wooer that you would have me on my knees, protesting, swearing? No; I wrong you again: it is not that,” he exclaimed passionately. “Look here, Ella”—he plucked one of the white roses, tearing his hand as he did so, the blood appearing in a long mark across the back—“emblematic,” he said, smiling sadly, “of my love. You see it has its smarts and pains. You refused me so slight a gift once, but take this; and though I am a man I can freely say that my love for you is as pure and spotless as that simple flower. You will not refuse that?”He could see the tears in her eyes, and that her face was drawn as if with pain; but one trembling hand was extended to take the flower; then, before he could recover from his surprise, she had turned from him and fled; when, with almost a groan, he threw himself upon the garden-seat, remaining motionless for a few moments, and then rising to hurry back to the marquee.

In spite of her annoyance, Laura’s eyes sparkled when they reached the Court; for Sir Philip hurried to the carriage, welcoming the party most warmly, and, handing her out, he led her himself to the beautiful little kiosk, and then took her from place to place, according to her attentions that made more than one match-making mamma with marriageable daughters look meaningly at the same daughters, and then think of Charley Vining with a sigh.

But if Laura was in high glee, so was not Max, who had to stand by while Charley carried off Ella Bedford, Nelly laughingly fastening upon his other arm.

“A rude coarse beast, bai Jove!” muttered Max elegantly, as he tried vainly to get the little button of his glove secured. “Let him have a fall again, and see if I’ll go to his help!”

“I shall come with you if I may,” said Nelly demurely.

“To be sure!” laughed Charley, whose heart throbbed with pleasure as he felt—nay, hardly felt—the light pressure of the grey glove upon his arm. “Miss Bedford won’t mind, I hope. Do you know, Miss Bedford, I’m rather glad you are with us? I’m almost afraid Nelly means some inroad upon my purse.”

“No, I don’t,” said Nelly, “so don’t be afraid;” and then she walked very demurely by their side, Charley encouraging her to stay upon observing Ella’s constraint and troubled looks.

“She’d be off like a frightened pigeon—dove, I mean!” muttered Charley, as he looked down at the almost painful face beside him. But a little quiet conversation upon current topics seemed to set her more at ease, and, after a while, Hugh Lingon approaching, Charley Vining whispered, loudly enough, though, for Nelly to hear:

“Now I’m going, Miss Bedford, for here comes Nelly’s intended. I hope you will play thechaperonemost stringently.”

Nelly rewarded him with a sharp pinch as he left them, Hugh Lingon taking his place; and Ella, whose heart beat almost painfully, asking herself the reason why.

But Charley Vining had laid his plans that day, and he felt he must proceed with caution. So hurrying himself, he acted the part of host with admirable tact, picking out the ladies who seemed neglected, forming sets for croquet, handing refreshments, or escorting little parties to the lake-like river for boating; distributing himself, as it were, throughout the grounds, and at last interrupting a tête-à-tête between Laura and Hugh Lingon, who had soon forsaken the ladies left in his charge.

Laura commenced a littleminauderie, professing to be unable to leave Mr Lingon; but she gave up directly she saw Charley’s laugh, for she knew that it would be—nay, was—seen through. She knew Charley Vining to be different from most men of her acquaintance; and accepting his offer, she gladly took his arm, making the match-making mammas to whisper, as the handsome couple passed through the grounds, “There, didn’t I tell you so?” and then to gossip about how they had had their suspicions concerning the purpose of the fête.

But Laura’s pleasure was but short-lived; for though Charley was pleasant, gay, and chatty, he was nothing more, and though he carefully avoided referring to the croquet-party, she felt that he was not as she could wish.

“He’ll go back to her as soon as, with any decency, he can,” she thought; and her teeth were set, and her fingers clenched, pressing the nails almost through her gloves, as she forced back a sigh.

But she soon cheered up, for she told herself it was not for long, and determined to try if gentleness would gain the day; she listened to all her companion said, striving the while, without being obtrusive, to obliterate her past words of anger.

Laura was wrong; for it was not for a considerable time, and until he had played cavalier to many a lady—winning the thanks and smiles of Sir Philip, who was delighted at his son’s efforts—that he sought once more Ella Bedford, followed by Sir Philip’s eyes; the old gentleman gazing uneasily after him as he went up and offered his arm, which was reluctantly taken.

“I’m going now,” said Nelly, who had kept with her guard the whole time; “I want something to eat. I declare, Charley Vining, I’ve only had one thin slice of butter spread with bread-crumbs, and a cup of tea;” and before a word could be said, she had darted off.

Sir Philip’s were not the only eyes that followed Charley Vining to where sat Ella Bedford; for as Max Bray followed him at a distance, as if by accident Laura did the same, and brother and sister gave genuine starts as they encountered at the union of two alleys.

“Grows quite romantic, bai Jove!” sneered Max; but he relapsed into an uncomfortable look on seeing the penetrating gaze directed at him by his sister.

“Let me take your arm,” she said coldly; and then, as the shades of evening were fast falling, they walked slowly on together, towards a part of the grounds now apparently deserted.

Meanwhile Charley Vining had led Ella across the lawn, pressing her to partake of some refreshment, but in vain; and at last, in spite of herself, she found that she was alone with him, in a secluded part of the grounds.

“There is a seat here,” said Charley. “Shall we rest for a few minutes?”

“It would hardly be advisable,” was the quiet reply; “the evening is damp.” And then for a few moments there was a pause, as they still walked slowly on, Charley with his heart beating heavily, and Ella eager to return to the throng upon the lawn—a throng that the afternoon through she had avoided—and hardly liking to speak, lest she might betray her agitation, and that she looked upon this otherwise than as an ordinary attention of host to one of his guests.

For Ella was not blind: her woman’s instinct had whispered to her respecting the many attentions pressed upon her, and she trembled as she recalled the night when the cross was returned; for her heart told her that such things must not be—that she must be cold and cautious, guarding and steeling herself against tender emotions, for she was but the poor paid governess, and this man, whose arm she lightly touched, was almost engaged to Laura Bray.

But the silence was broken at length by Charley, who spoke deeply, as he stopped short by a standard covered with pale white roses, whose perfume seemed shed around upon the soft night air.

“Miss Bedford,” he said, “I have been in pain, almost in agony, for many days past; and till I found that I had been wronging you, it seemed to me that life was going to be unbearable.”

“Pain!—wronging me!” exclaimed Ella.

“Yes,” he said; “but hear me out. I am no polished speaker, Miss Bedford—only a simple, blunt, and I hope honest and truthful man. A week or two since I believed that you favoured the suit of Max Bray: to-night I will not insult you with questions, but tell you honestly I do not believe that to be the case; and when the conviction flashed upon me that I was wrong, I tell you frankly my heart leaped with joy. You may ask why: I will tell you.”

“Mr Vining,” exclaimed Ella, “this must not be; you forget yourself, your position—you forget me when you talk so. Pray lead me back.”

“You speak as if my words pained you, Miss Bedford,” said Charley huskily. “Pray forgive me if they do. Nay, but a few minutes longer.”

He caught one hand in his, and as she glanced for an instant in his direction, the rising moon gleaming through the trees lit up his handsome earnest face, photographing it, as it were, upon her brain; for to her dying day she never forgot that look—that countenance so imploringly turned upon her.

“Miss Bedford—Ella,” he whispered, “I love you tenderly and devotedly! This is no light declaration: till I saw you, woman never occupied my thoughts. You see by my brusque ways, my bluntness, that I have been no dallier in drawing-rooms, no holder of lady’s silk. Till now, my loves have been in the stables, kennels, fields. Blunt language this—uncomplimentary perhaps; but I am no courtier. I speak as I feel, and I tell you that to win your love in return would be to make me a happy man.”

“Mr Vining,” exclaimed Ella, vainly trying to release her hand, “lead me back, pray!”

“Nay,” said Charley, with sadness in his tones, “I will not force you to listen to me;” and he released her hand. “I was hopeful that you would have listened to my suit.”

“Indeed—indeed,” said Ella, “I cannot, Mr Vining: it can never be. You forget—position—me!”

She could say no more—her words seemed to stifle her; and had she continued speaking, she felt that she would have burst into tears.

“I forget nothing,” said Charley, almost sternly. “How can I forget? How can I ever forget? But surely,” he said, once more catching her hand in his—“surely you cannot with that sweet gentle face be cruel, and love to torture one who has spoken simply the truth—laid bare to you his feelings! You believe what I say?”

“Yes, yes!” almost sobbed Ella. “But indeed—indeed it can never be. Do not think me either harsh or cruel, for I mean it not.”

“What am I to think then?” said Charley bitterly. “Is it that you reject me utterly, or am I so poor a wooer that you would have me on my knees, protesting, swearing? No; I wrong you again: it is not that,” he exclaimed passionately. “Look here, Ella”—he plucked one of the white roses, tearing his hand as he did so, the blood appearing in a long mark across the back—“emblematic,” he said, smiling sadly, “of my love. You see it has its smarts and pains. You refused me so slight a gift once, but take this; and though I am a man I can freely say that my love for you is as pure and spotless as that simple flower. You will not refuse that?”

He could see the tears in her eyes, and that her face was drawn as if with pain; but one trembling hand was extended to take the flower; then, before he could recover from his surprise, she had turned from him and fled; when, with almost a groan, he threw himself upon the garden-seat, remaining motionless for a few moments, and then rising to hurry back to the marquee.

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