CHAPTER XXIV.
THE GARDEN-PARTY.
The morning of the garden-party arose bright and clear, and Slowbridgeawakened in a great state of excitement. Miss Chickie, having workeduntil midnight that all her orders might be completed, was so overpoweredby her labors as to have to take her tea and toast in bed.
At Oldclough varied sentiments prevailed. Lady Theobald's manner waschiefly distinguished by an implacable rigidity. She had chosen, as anappropriate festal costume, a funereal-black _moire antique_, enlivenedby massive fringes and ornaments of jet; her jewelry being chains andmanacles of the latter, which rattled as she moved, with a sound somewhatsuggestive of bones.
Mr. Dugald Binnie, who had received an invitation, had as yet amiablyforborne to say whether he would accept it, or not. He had been out whenMr. Burmistone called, and had not seen him.
When Lady Theobald descended to breakfast, she found him growling overhis newspaper; and he glanced up at her with a polite scowl.
"Going to a funeral?" he demanded.
"I accompany my granddaughter to this--this entertainment," her ladyshipresponded. "It is scarcely a joyous occasion, to my mind."
"No need to dress yourself like that, if it isn't," ejaculated Mr.Binnie. "Why don't you stay at home, if you don't want to go? Man's allright, isn't he? Once knew a man by the name of Burmistone, myself. Oneof the few decent fellows I've met. If I were sure this was the same man,I'd go myself. When I find a fellow who's neither knave nor fool, I stickto him. Believe I'll send to find out. Where's Lucia?"
What his opinion of Lucia was, it was difficult to discover. He had anagreeable habit of staring at her over the top of his paper, and over hisdinner. The only time he had made any comment upon her, was the firsttime he saw her in the dress she had copied from Octavia's. "Nice gownthat," he blurted out: "didn't get it here, I'll wager."
"It's an old dress I remodelled," answered Lucia somewhat alarmed. "Imade it myself."
"Doesn't look like it," he said gruffly.
Lucia had touched up another dress, and was very happy in the prospect ofwearing it at the garden-party.
"Don't call on grandmamma until after Wednesday," she had said to Mr.Burmistone: "perhaps she wouldn't let me go. She will be very angry,I am sure."
"And you are not afraid?"
"No," she answered: "I am not afraid at all. I shall not be afraidagain."
In fact, she had perfectly confounded her ladyship by her demeanor. Shebore her fiercest glance without quailing in the least, or making anyeffort to evade it: under her most scathing comments she was composed andunmoved. On the first occasion of my lady's referring to her plans forher future, she received a blow which fairly stunned her. The girl rosefrom her chair, and looked her straight in the face unflinchingly, andwith a suggestion of _hauteur_ not easy to confront.
"I beg you will not speak to me of that again," she said: "I will notlisten." And turning about, she walked out of the room.
"This," her ladyship had said in sepulchral tones, when she recovered herbreath, "this is one of the results of Miss Octavia Bassett." And nothingmore had been said on the subject since.
No one in Slowbridge was in more brilliant spirits than Octavia herselfon the morning of the _fete_. Before breakfast Miss Belinda was startledby the arrival of another telegram, which ran as follows:--
"Arrived to-day, per 'Russia.' Be with you tomorrow evening. Friend withme.
"MARTIN BASSETT."
On reading this communication, Miss Belinda burst into floods ofdelighted tears.
"Dear, dear Martin," she wept; "to think that we should meet again! _Why_didn't he let us know he was on the way? I should have been so anxiousthat I should not have slept at all."
"Well," remarked Octavia, "I suppose that would have been an advantage."
Suddenly she approached Miss Belinda, kissed her, and disappeared out ofthe room as if by magic, not returning for a quarter of an hour, lookingrather soft and moist and brilliant about the eyes when she did return.
Octavia was a marked figure upon the grounds at that garden-party.
"Another dress, my dear," remarked Mrs. Burnham. "And what a charmingcolor she has, I declare! She is usually paler. Perhaps we owe this toLord Lansdowne."
"Her dress is becoming, at all events," privately remarked Miss LydiaBurnham, whose tastes had not been consulted about her own.
"It is she who is becoming," said her sister: "it is not the dress somuch, though her clothes always have a _look_, some way. She's prettierthan ever to-day, and is enjoying herself."
She was enjoying herself. Mr. Francis Barold observed it rather gloomilyas he stood apart. She was enjoying herself so much, that she did notseem to notice that he had avoided her, instead of going up to claim herattention. Half a dozen men were standing about her, and makingthemselves agreeable; and she was apparently quite equal to theemergencies of the occasion. The young men from Broadoaks had at onceattached themselves to her train.
"I say, Barold," they had said to him, "why didn't you tell us aboutthis? Jolly good fellow you are, to come mooning here for a couple ofmonths, and keep it all to yourself."
And then had come Lord Lansdowne, who, in crossing the lawn to shakehands with his host, had been observed to keep his eye fixed upon oneparticular point.
"Burmistone," he said, after having spoken his first words, "who is thattall girl in white?"
And in ten minutes Lady Theobald, Mrs. Burnham, Mr. Barold, and diversothers too numerous to mention, saw him standing at Octavia's side,evidently with no intention of leaving it.
Not long after this Francis Barold found his way to Miss Belinda, who wasvery busy and rather nervous.
"Your niece is evidently enjoying herself," he remarked.
"Octavia is most happy to-day," answered Miss Belinda. "Her father willreach Slowbridge this evening. She has been looking forward to his comingwith great anxiety."
"Ah!" commented Barold.
"Very few people understand Octavia," said Miss Belinda. "I'm not surethat I follow all her moods myself. She is more affectionate than peoplefancy. She--she has very pretty ways. I am very fond of her. She is notas frivolous as she appears to those who don't know her well."
Barold stood gnawing his mustache, and made no reply. He was not verycomfortable. He felt himself ill-used by Fate, and rather wished he hadreturned to London from Broadoaks, instead of loitering in Slowbridge. Hehad amused himself at first, but in time he had been surprised to findhis amusement lose something of its zest. He glowered across the lawn atthe group under a certain beech-tree; and, as he did so, Octavia turnedher face a little and saw him. She stood waving her fan slowly, andsmiling at him in a calm way, which reminded him very much of the time hehad first caught sight of her at Lady Theobald's high tea.
He condescended to saunter over the grass to where she stood. Once there,he proceeded to make himself as disagreeable as possible, in a silent andlofty way. He felt it only due to himself that he should. He did notapprove at all of the manner in which Lansdowne kept by her.
"It's deucedly bad form on his part," he said mentally. "What does hemean by it?"
Octavia, on the contrary, did not ask what he meant by it. She chose toseem rather well entertained, and did not notice that she was beingfrowned down. There was no reason why she should not find Lord Lansdowneentertaining: he was an agreeable young fellow, with an inexhaustiblefund of good spirits, and no nonsense about him.
He was fond of all pleasant novelty, and Octavia was a pleasant novelty.He had been thinking of paying a visit to America; and he askedinnumerable questions concerning that country, all of which Octaviaanswered.
"I know half a dozen fellows who have been there," he said. "And they allenjoyed it tremendously."
"If you go to Nevada, you must visit the mines at Bloody Gulch," shesaid.
"Where?" he ejaculated. "I say, what a name! Don't deride my youth andignorance, Miss Bassett."
"You can call it L'Argentville, if you would rat
her," she replied.
"I would rather try the other, thank you," he laughed. "It has a morehilarious sound. Will they despise me at Bloody Gulch, Miss Bassett? Inever killed a man in my life."
Barold turned, and walked away, angry, and more melancholy than he couldhave believed.
"It is time I went back to London," he chose to put it. "The place beginsto be deucedly dull."
"Mr. Francis Barold seems rather out of spirits," said Mrs. Burnham toLady Theobald. "Lord Lansdowne interferes with his pleasure."
"I had not observed it," answered her ladyship. "And it is scarcelylikely that Mr. Francis Barold would permit his pleasure to be interferedwith, even by the son of the Marquis of Lauderdale."
But she glared at Barold as he passed, and beckoned to him.
"Where is Lucia?" she demanded.--
"I saw her with Burmistone half an hour ago," he answered coldly. "Haveyou any message for my mother? I shall return to London to-morrow,leaving here early."
She turned quite pale. She had not counted upon this at all, and it wasextremely inopportune.
"What has happened?" she asked rigidly.
He looked slightly surprised.
"Nothing whatever," he replied. "I have remained here longer than Iintended."
She began to move the manacles on her right wrist. He made not thesmallest profession of reluctance to go. She said, at last, "If you willfind Lucia, you will oblige me." She was almost uncivil to Miss Pilcher,who chanced to join her after he was gone. She had not the slightestintention of allowing her plans to be frustrated, and was only roused tofresh obstinacy by encountering indifference on one side and rebellion onthe other. She had not brought Lucia up under her own eye for nothing.She had been disturbed of late, but by no means considered herselfbaffled. With the assistance of Mr. Dugald Binnie, she could certainlysubdue Lucia, though Mr. Dugald Binnie had been of no great help so far.She would do her duty unflinchingly. In fact, she chose to persuadeherself, that, if Lucia was brought to a proper frame of mind, therecould be no real trouble with Francis Barold.