CHAPTER XXXV.
AN ELYSIAN PICNIC.
Nay, the world--the world, All ear and eye, with such a stupid heart To interpret ear and eye, and such a tongue To blaze its own interpretation!
Three gallant officers, who had been enjoying the hospitality of Elysiumfor many weeks, were fired one day with a noble resolve to show theirgratitude to the gentlemen and their devotion to the ladies by whom theyhad been so pleasantly entertained. It was an inspiration, everybodyfelt at once, and all Elysium thrilled with conscious responsiveness atthe happy thought. There is a little valley near Elysium, a mile or twofrom the mountain's summit, where a green, smooth sward invites theweary climber to repose; where venerable deodars, towering on the steephillside, stretch their limbs to ward off the fierce afternoon sun;where a headlong stream comes bubbling down among the thick-grown fernsand falls in a feathery cascade and disappears in the gorge below; wherethe Genius of the Mountains has, in fact, its chosen haunt. There youmay sit and watch the rose-tipped snowy range warming into fresh lifeand beauty as the sun goes down, and fading into cold gloom as hedisappears. Here, in a hundred suggestive nooks, Nature has hinted at asylvan _tete-a-tete_, or spread a verdant curtain of wild growth tofestoon an _al fresco_ banquet; and here it was that the three inspiredofficers resolved to give an entertainment that should at once dojustice to the warmth of their feelings, the correctness of theirtastes, and the profuseness of their liberality.
It was to be a picnic--the picnic of the season--the picnic of theworld; and if enchanting scenery, a cloudless sky, enthusiastic hosts, acrowd of pretty women, an army of devoted men, a community not too blaseto be easily amused, nor yet so unused to pleasure as not to know how totake it--if all these ingredients, backed with the music of a lovelyband crashing out among the rocks, cookery over which, by graciouspermission, the Viceroy's own chef presided, and champagne, iced toperfection in Himalayan snows, could make a success, then it would, asMaud expected, be indeed an era in the lives of all concerned.
Mrs. Vereker, though perhaps less sanguine than her more youthfulcompanion, determined to have a new dress for the occasion; and acommittee of adorers discussed the rival merits of half-a-dozenprojected costumes. Mrs. Vereker, however, treated all their suggestionswith contempt, and determined in the depths of her own consciousness onsomething that should be a sweet surprise.
Maud, happily, had one of her English treasures which was still unknownto the admiring public, and which she felt at once would be the verything.
For some days nothing but the picnic could be talked of in Elysium; whatto wear at it, how to get to it, how to return, were topics of theliveliest interest to all. A hundred pleasant plans in connection withit shaped themselves into being. General Beau, who liked beingbeforehand with the world, secured for himself the honour of escortingMrs. Vereker; and Desvoeux, as a matter of course, established his claimto act as Maud's gentleman-in-waiting on the occasion. By this time herspirits were very high and impatient of all that seemed to check theirflow. She was flirting with Desvoeux, she knew, in the most open manner,yet she resented any notice being taken of it. Boldero had met her at acroquet party and been very disagreeable. He confessed to having beentwo days in Elysium, and could or would give no account of why he hadnot been to call. 'How unkind and unlike the old Mr Boldero whom we allliked so much! How you are changed!'
'Yes,' Boldero said, flushing up quite red, so that Maud knew that hemeant more than met the ear, 'and some one else is changed too and mightnot care about her former friends.'
'What do you mean?' Maud said, disturbed at Boldero's serious air; 'howcan I care about you, if you won't come and see me? Come now, and takeme across the lawn for an ice, and tell me what it is that is thematter.'
'I do not think I can tell you,' said Boldero, greatly alarmed atfinding himself committed to a lecture; 'you will not like it; you wanta scolding.'
'Well,' said Maud, 'I like scoldings from my friends, and I oftendeserve them, and often get them, goodness knows. Give me one now; onlyyou must be quick, please, because there is Mr. Desvoeux signalling me,and I have promised to go for a ride with him.'
'Don't,' said Boldero, with great alacrity; 'stay and hear my lecture.Let me go and say you would rather not.'
'Not for the world!' cried Maud; 'I am looking forward to it immensely;he would be broken-hearted if I disappointed him, poor fellow. How wouldyou like it yourself?'
'Broken-hearted!' said Boldero, with that peculiar turn of contempt inhis voice with which her husband and his friends always vexed Maud byspeaking of Desvoeux.
'How disagreeable you are!' said Maud. 'Don't you know he is myparticular friend?'
'Friend!' said Boldero; 'he is the very worst enemy you have, believeme. Forgive me, as your husband's old friend, if I tell you the truthwhen, it seems, no one else will. He is making you talked of; and if youcould only know how people talk! He knows it, and he likes it, and it iswhat he is always doing.'
'And what you are always doing,' said Maud in a passion, 'is coming andsaying the most horrid things in the most disagreeable way and joiningthe horrid people who gossip about one. Do they talk of me? Then whydon't you make them eat their words--you, who used to be my friend?'
'I am your friend,' said the other with a grave persistence, 'andSutton's too. It is because I am that I risk your displeasure by tellingyou that you are doing wrong.'
'Doing wrong?' cried Maud, by this time quite flushed with excitementand hardly mistress of her words; 'how dare you say so? You know it isfalse. I am alone, or you would not venture to insult me.'
'Come,' said Boldero, unmoved by the taunt, of which Maud herself feltthe outrageous injustice, 'be sensible, and let me take care of you thisevening: do me a kind act for once.'
'Thank you,' said Maud, the tears gleaming in her eyes, 'and hear suchthings as you have been saying over again? Take care of me, indeed!Please never speak to me again!'
She was gone, leaving her companion discomfited. In another instantDesvoeux was at her side, and, as he lifted her to her pony, saidsomething which made her laugh and blush. Boldero would have liked tothrottle him.
Maud's conscience, however, prevented her full enjoyment of the ride.She knew as well as possible that Boldero was telling her truth: she_was_ doing wrong, she felt only too distinctly. Boldero would have cuthis fingers off to please her, and she had chosen to misunderstand him.Still it was too provoking to be lectured. When she got home there was aletter from Dustypore, which told her that Felicia too had heard of herproceedings and was wanting to warn her. 'You must not forget, dearMaud,' the letter said, 'what a home of gossip Elysium is, and how allthat is young and pretty and interesting is what gossip busies itselfmost about. Some men, like Mr. Desvoeux, for instance, have only to lookat one for the gossipers to begin; but I know you will be veryjudicious, even at the expense of being somewhat too particular. How Iwish I were with you!'
'They all want to tease me with their horrid advice and hints,' Maudthought, in vexation of heart; 'as for Mr. Boldero, he was too odious: Ican never, never forgive him.'
Then, as if all the world were in a conspiracy, Mrs. Fotheringham, whomMaud met at a dinner-party that night, pounced upon her as the ladieswere filing into the drawing-room and made her come and sit down on aremote sofa.
Maud always believed, probably not without justice, that Mrs.Fotheringham bore her a grudge for being married before the two MissFotheringhams. She was, accordingly, quite indisposed to be lectured.
'My dear,' Mrs. Fotheringham said, 'an old woman may sometimes give ayoung one a friendly hint. You don't know the world as I do, with mytwenty years of India. Now, don't be angry with me if I give you a bitof advice. Take care! Young wives whose husbands are in the Plainscannot take too much.'
This seemed the last drop in the overflowing cup of annoyance andhumiliation. Maud felt excessively indignant. It was an impertinencesurely for Mrs. Fotheringham to venture to speak so.
'And what am I to take c
are of?' she said; 'and what right have youto speak to me in this way?'
'Take care of your companions, my dear. You have chosen the mostdangerous, the worst you could find--Mr. Desvoeux.'
'Stop, stop!' cried Maud, jumping up in a fury; 'he is my friend, mykind friend. I will not hear him abused.'
'You must be on your guard,' continued the other, with exasperatingpertinacity; 'he is very unprincipled.'
'I know he is very agreeable,' cried Maud; 'unprincipled! what do youmean by that?'
'I mean--I mean,' said the other, 'that he is dangerous--just the sortof man to try to kiss you, if you gave him the chance.'
'Indeed?' cried Maud, by this time in far too great a passion to beeither courteous or discreet, 'I should think none the worse of him forthat. _I believe they all would!_' Having delivered this parting shot,Maud hurried away in a great state of agitation, and Mrs. Fotheringhamshrugged her shoulders in despair at so unseemly an outburst of temper,so awful a view of human nature.
When they got home that night Maud told Mrs. Vereker her troubles, andwas relieved to find what slight importance she attached to them. Sheburst out laughing, and clapped her hands in delight at Maud's accountof the encounter with Mrs. Fotheringham. 'But, my dear child, whatinduced you to make such a foolish speech? And as for Mr. Boldero, hewanted you himself, don't you understand? Flirt a little with _him_to-morrow and see how much he will want to lecture you then.'
'But he won't flirt with me,' said Maud; 'it is very odd. Besides, I wasin a passion, and told him never to speak to me again. Poor fellow!'
'You dear little goose!' Mrs. Vereker said, kissing her, 'sit down thisinstant and write and tell him you are broken-hearted for being so rude,and that he is to come to lunch and finish his lecture to-morrow. Youmust not quarrel with all the world at once.'
Of Felicia's letter Mrs. Vereker equally made light. 'She means nothing,my dear, except what I preach to you and practise myself, discretion andmoderation. So many dances in the evening, so many rides in the week, somany lunches, so many looks, so many smiles, and so forth. Besides, youknow, Mrs. Vernon is a prude, a born prude; she breathes a congenialatmosphere of proprieties where I should be suffocated. She likes men tobe polite, and only polite; I take them up where politeness ends andsomething else begins. She likes small-beer; I happen to preferchampagne, bright, sparkling and intoxicatingly delicious! Besides,'rattled on Mrs. Vereker, quite at ease with a familiar topic, 'Mrs.Vernon is a flirt too, in her prudish way. She flirts, she used to flirtwith your husband scandalously, I hope he behaves better now. Mine is amonster, and makes me cry my eyes out. But, I tell you what, my dearMaud, there is great safety in numbers. Don't speak to that saucyDesvoeux for a fortnight, and turn your pretty eyes on some one else,the first you fancy. Would you like my General? or Parson Boldero? Takehim in hand, my dear, and in a week we will make the horrid fellow flirtjust as much as his neighbours.'
'He's a very bad hand at it at present,' said Maud, with a laugh.
However, the result of the conference was that Maud sat down and wrote apretty little repentant note: and the next day Boldero came with abeating heart and took the little scapegrace for a ride, and scolded hervery affectionately, much to his own satisfaction, through a wholepleasant summer afternoon.