THE CURATE OF POLTONS
I must confess at once that at first, at least, I very much admired thecurate. I am not referring to my admiration of his fine figure--sixfeet high and straight as an arrow--nor of his handsome, open,ingenuous countenance, or his candid blue eye, or his thick curly hair.No; what won my heart from an early period of my visit to my cousins,the Poltons of Poltons Park, was the fervent, undisguised, unashamed,confident, and altogether matter-of-course manner in which he made loveto Miss Beatrice Queenborough, only daughter and heiress of the wealthyshipowner Sir Wagstaff Queenborough, Bart., and Eleanor his wife. Itwas purely the manner of the curate's advances that took my fancy: inthe mere fact of them there was nothing remarkable. For all the men inthe house (and a good many outside) made covert. stealthy, andindirect steps in the same direction; for Trix (as her friends calledher) was, if not wise, at least pretty and witty, displaying to thematerial eye a charming figure, and to the mental a delicateheartlessness--both attributes which challenge a self-respecting mansbest efforts. But then came the fatal obstacle. From heiresses inreason a gentleman need neither shrink nor let himself be driven; butwhen it comes to something like twenty thousand a year--the reportedamount of Trix's dot--he distrusts his own motives almost as much asthe lady's relatives distrust them for him. We all felt this--Stanton,Rippleby, and I; and, although I will not swear that we spoke no tenderwords and gave no meaning glances, yet we reduced such concessions tonatural weakness to a minimum, not only when Lady Queenborough was by,but at all times. To say truth, we had no desire to see our scalpsaffixed to Miss Trix's pretty belt, nor to have our hearts broken (likethat of the young man in the poem) before she went to Homburg in theautumn. With the curate it was otherwise. He--Jack Ives, by the way,was his name--appeared to rush, not only upon his fate, but in the faceof all possibility and of Lady Queenborough. My cousin and hostess,Dora Polton, was very much distressed about him. She said that he wassuch a nice young fellow, and that it was a great pity to see himpreparing such unhappiness for himself. Nay, I happen to know that shespoke very seriously to Trix, pointing out the wickedness of triflingwith him; whereupon Trix, who maintained a bowing acquaintance with herconscience, avoided him for a whole afternoon and endangered all AlgyStanton's prudent resolutions by taking him out in the Canadian canoe.This demonstration in no way perturbed the curate. He observed that, asthere was nothing better to do, we might as well play billiards, andproceeded to defeat me in three games of a hundred up (no, it is quiteimmaterial whether we played for anything or not), after which he toldDora that the vicar was taking the evening service--it happened to bethe day when there was one at the parish church--a piece of informationonly relevant in so far as it suggested that Mr. Ives could accept aninvitation to dinner if one were proffered to him. Dora, very weakly,rose to the bait; Jack Ives, airily remarking that there was no use inceremony among friends, seized the place next to Trix at dinner (hermother was just opposite) and walked on the terrace after dinner withher in the moonlight. When the ladies retired he came into thesmoking-room, drank a whiskey-and-soda, said that Miss Queenborough wasreally a very charming companion, and apologized for leaving us earlyon the ground that his sermon was still unwritten. My good cousin, thesquire, suggested rather grimly that a discourse on the vanity of humanwishes might be appropriate.
"I shall preach." said Mr. Ives thoughtfully, "on the opportunities ofwealth."
This resolution he carried out on the next day but one, that being aSunday. I had the pleasure of sitting next to Miss Trix, and I watchedher with some interest as Mr. Ives developed his theme. I will not tryto reproduce the sermon, which would have seemed by no means a bad one,had any of our party been able to ignore the personal application whichwe read into it: for its main burden was no other than this--thatwealth should be used by those who were fortunate enough to possess it(here Trix looked down and fidgeted with her prayer-book) as a means ofpromoting greater union between themselves and the less richly endowed,and not--as, alas, had too often been the case--as though it were a newbarrier set up between them and their fellow--creatures. (Here MissTrix blushed slightly, and had recourse to her smelling-bottle.) "You,"said the curate, waxing rhetorical as he addressed an imaginary, butbloated, capitalist, "have no more right to your money than I have. Itis intrusted to you to be shared with me." At this point I heard LadyQueenborough sniff, and Algy Stanton snigger. I stole a glance at Trixand detected a slight waver in the admirable lines of her mouth.
"A very good sermon, didn't you think?" I said to her, as we walkedhome.
"Oh, very, she replied demurely.
"Ah, if we followed all we heard in church!" I sighed.
Miss Trix walked in silence for a few yards. By dint of never becominganything else, we had become very good friends; and presently sheremarked, quite confidentially, "He's very silly, isn't he?"
"Then you ought to snub him," said I, severely.
"So I do--sometimes. He's rather amusing, though.
"Of course, if you're prepared to make the sacrifice involved---"
"Oh, what nonsense!"
"Then you've no business to amuse yourself with him."
"Dear, dear! how moral you are!" said Trix.
The next development in the situation was this. My cousin Dora receiveda letter from the Marquis of Newhaven, with whom she was acquainted,praying her to allow him to run down to Poltons for a few days: hereminded her that she had once given him a general invitation: if itwould not be inconvenient--and so forth. The meaning of thiscommunication did not, of course, escape my cousin, who had witnessedthe writers attentions to Trix in the preceding season, nor did itescape the rest of us (who had talked over the said attentions at theclub) when she told us about it, and announced that Lord Newhaven wouldarrive in the middle of next day. Trix affected dense unconsciousness;her mother allowed herself a mysterious smile--which, however, speedilyvanished when the curate (he was taking lunch with us) observed in acheerful tone, "Newhaven! oh, I remember the chap at theHouse--ploughed twice in Smalls--stumpy fellow, isn't he? Not a badchap, though, you know, barring his looks. I'm glad he's coming."
"You won't be soon, young man," Lady Queenborough's angry eye seemed tosay.
"I remember him," pursued Jack, "awfully smitten with a tobacconist'sdaughter in the Corn--oh, it's all right, Lady Queenborough--shewouldn't look at him."
This quasi-apology was called forth by the fact of Lady Queenboroughpushing back her chair and making for the door. It did not at allappease her to hear of the scorn of the tobacconist's daughter. Sheglared sternly at Jack, and disappeared. He turned to Trix and remindedher--without diffidence and coram populo, as his habit was, that shehad promised him a stroll in the west wood.
What happened on that stroll I do not know; but meeting Miss Trix onthe stairs later in the afternoon, I ventured to remark, "I hope youbroke it to him gently, Miss Queenborough?"
"I don't know what you mean," replied Trix, haughtily.
"You were out nearly two hours," said I.
"Were we?" asked Trix with a start. "Good gracious! Where was mamma,Mr. Wynne?"
"On the lawn--watch in hand."
Miss Trix went slowly upstairs, and there is not the least doubt thatsomething serious passed between her and her mother, for both of themwere in the most atrocious of humors that evening; fortunately thecurate was not there. He had a Bible class.
The next day Lord Newhaven arrived. I found him on the lawn when Istrolled up, after a spell of letter-writing, about four o'clock.Lawn-tennis was the order of the day, and we were all in flannels.
"Oh, here's Mark," cried Dora, seeing me.
"Now, Mark, you and Mr. Ives had better play against Trix and LordNewhaven. That'll make a very good set."
"No, no, Mrs. Polton," said Jack Ives. "They wouldn't have a chance.Look here, I'll play with Miss Queenborough against Lord Newhaven andWynne."
Newhaven--whose appearance, by the way, though hardly distinguished,was not quite so unornamental as the curate
had led us toexpect--looked slightly displeased, but Jack gave him no time forremonstrance. He whisked Trix off, and began to serve all in a moment.I had a vision of Lady Queenborough approaching from the house withface aghast. The set went on; and, owing entirely to Newhaven's absurdchivalry in sending all the balls to Jack Ives instead of following thewell-known maxim to "pound away at the lady," they beat us. Jack wipedhis brow, strolled up to the tea-table with Trix, and remarked inexultant tones:
"We make a perfect couple, Miss Queenborough; we ought never to beseparated."
Dora did not ask the curate to dinner that night, but he dropped inabout nine o'clock to ask her opinion as to the hymns on Sunday; andfinding Miss Trix and Newhaven in the small drawing-room he sat downand talked to them. This was too much for Trix; she had treated himvery kindly and had allowed him to amuse her; but it was impossible toput up with presumption of that kind. Difficult as it was to discourageMr. Ives, she did it, and he went away with a disconsolate, puzzledexpression. At the last moment, however, Trix so far relented as toexpress a hope that he was coming to tennis to-morrow, at which hebrightened up a little. I do not wish to be uncharitable--least of allto a charming young lady--but my opinion is that Miss Trix did not wishto set the curate altogether adrift. I think, however, that LadyQueenborough must have spoken again, for when Jack did come to tennis,Trix treated him with the most freezing civility and a hardly disguiseddisdain, and devoted herself to Lord Newhaven with as much assiduity asher mother could wish. We men, over our pipes, expressed the opinionthat Jack Ives's little hour of sunshine was passed, and that nothingwas left to us but to look on at the prosperous uneventful course ofLord Newhaven's wooing. Trix had had her fun (so Algy Stanton bluntlyphrased it) and would now settle down to business.
"I believe, though," he added, "that she likes the curate a bit, youknow."
During the whole of the next day--Wednesday--Jack Ives kept away; hehad, apparently, accepted the inevitable, and was healing his woundedheart by a strict attention to his parochial duties. Newhaven remarkedon his absence with an air of relief; and Miss Trix treated it as amatter of no importance; Lady Queenborough was all smiles; and DoraPolton restricted herself to exclaiming, as I sat by her at tea, in alow tone and a propos of nothing in particular, "Oh, well--poor Mr.Ives!"
But on Thursday there occurred an event, the significance of whichpassed at the moment unperceived, but which had, in fact, mostimportant results. This was no other than the arrival of little Mrs.Wentworth, an intimate friend of Dora's. Mrs. Wentworth had been left awidow early in life; she possessed a comfortable competence; she wasnot handsome, but she was vivacious, amusing, and, above all,sympathetic. She sympathized at once with Lady Queenborough in hermaternal anxieties, with Trix on her charming romance, with Newhaven onhis sweet devotedness, with the rest of us in our obviousdesolation--and, after a confidential chat with Dora; she sympathizedmost strongly with poor Mr. Ives on his unfortunate attachment.Nothing would satisfy her, so Dora told me, except the opportunity ofplying Mr. Ives with her soothing balm; and Dora was about to sit downand write him a note, when he strolled in through the drawing-roomwindow, and announced that his cooks mother was ill, and that he shouldbe very much obliged if Mrs. Polton would give him some dinner thatevening. Trix and Newhaven happened to enter by the door at the samemoment, and Jack darted up to them, and shook hands with the greatesteffusion. He had evidently buried all unkindness--and with it, wehoped, his mistaken folly. However that might be, he made no effort toengross Trix, but took his seat most docilely by his hostess--and she,of course, introduced him to Mrs. Wentworth. His behavior, was, infact, so exemplary, that even Lady Queenborough relaxed her severity,and condescended to cross-examine him on the morals and manners of theold women of the parish. "Oh, the Vicar looks after them," said Jack;and he turned to Mrs. Wentworth again.
There can be no doubt that Mrs. Wentworth had a remarkable power ofsympathy. I took her into dinner, and she was deep in the subject of my"noble and inspiring art," before the soup was off the table. Indeed,I'm sure that my life's ambitions would have been an open book to herby the time that the joint arrived, had not Jack Ives, who was sittingon the lady's other side, cut into the conversation just as Mrs.Wentworth was comparing my early struggles with those of Mr. Carlyle.After this intervention of Jack's I had not a chance. I ate my dinnerwithout the sauce of sympathy, substituting for it a certain amusementwhich I derived from studying the face of Miss Trix Queenborough, whowas placed on the opposite side of the table. And if Trix did look nowand again at Mrs. Wentworth and Jack Ives, I cannot say that herconduct was unnatural. To tell the truth, Jack was so obviouslydelighted with his new friend that it was quite pleasant--and, as Isay, under the circumstances, rather amusing--to watch them. We feltthat the Squire was justified in having a hit at Jack when Jack said,in the smoking-room, that he found himself rather at a loss for asubject for his next sermon.
"What do you say," suggested my cousin, puffing at his pipe, "to takingconstancy as your text?"
Jack considered the idea for a moment, but then he shook his head.
"No. I think," he said, reflectively, "that I shall preach on the powerof sympathy."
That sermon afforded me--I must confess it, at the risk of seemingfrivolous--very great entertainment. Again I secured a place by MissTrix--on her left, Newhaven being on her right, and her face was worthstudy when Jack Ives gave us a most eloquent description of thewonderful gift in question. It was, he said, the essence and the crownof true womanliness, and it showed itself--well, to put it quiteplainly, it showed itself, according to Jack Ives, in exactly that sortof manner and bearing which so honorably and gracefully distinguishedMrs. Wentworth. The lady was not, of course, named, but she was clearlyindicated. "Your gift, your precious gift," cried the curate,apostrophizing the impersonation of sympathy, "is given to you, not foryour profit, but for mine. It is yours, but it is a trust to be usedfor me. It is yours, in fact, to share with me." At this climax, whichmust have struck upon her ear with a certain familiarity, Miss TrixQueenborough, notwithstanding the place and occasion, tossed her prettyhead and whispered to me, "What horrid stuff!"
In the ensuing week Jack Ives was our constant companion; the continuedillness of his servant's mother left him stranded, and Dora's kindheart at once offered him the hospitality of her roof. For my part Iwas glad, for the little drama which now began was not without itsinterest. It was a pleasant change to see Jack genially polite to TrixQueenborough, but quite indifferent to her presence or absence, andcontent to allow her to take Newhaven for her partner at tennis asoften as she pleased. He himself was often an absentee from our games.
Mrs. Wentworth did not play, and Jack would sit under the trees withher, or take her out in the canoe. What Trix thought I did not know,but it is a fact that she treated poor Newhaven like dirt beneath herfeet, and that Lady Queenborough's face began to lose its transientlypleasant expression. I had a vague idea that a retribution was workingitself out, and disposed myself to see the process with all thecomplacency induced by the spectacle of others receiving punishment fortheir sins.
A little scene which occurred after lunch one day was significant. Iwas sitting on the terrace, ready booted and breeched, waiting for myhorse to be brought round. Trix came out and sat down by me.
"Where's Newhaven?" I asked.
"Oh, I don't always want Lord Newhaven," she exclaimed petulantly; "Isent him off for a walk--I'm going out in the Canadian canoe with Mr.Ives."
"Oh, you are, are you?" said I smiling. As I spoke, Jack Ives ran up tous.
"I say, Miss Queenborough," he cried, "I've just got your messagesaying you'd let me take you on the lake."
"Is it a great bore?" asked Trix, with a glance--a glance that meantmischief.
"I should like it awfully, of course," said Jack; "but the fact is I'vepromised to take Mrs. Wentworth--before I got your message, you know."
Trix drew herself up.
"Of course, if Mrs. Wentworth---" she began.
r /> "I'm very sorry," said Jack.
Then Miss Queenborough, forgetting--as I hope--or choosing--todisregard my presence, leant forward and asked in her most coaxingtones, "Don't you ever forget a promise, Mr. Ives?"
Jack looked at her. I suppose her dainty prettiness struck him afresh,for he wavered and hesitated.
"She's gone upstairs," pursued the tempter, "and we shall be safe awaybefore she comes down again."
Jack shuffled with one foot on the gravel.
"I tell you what," he said. "I'll ask her if she minds me taking youfor a little while before I----"
I believe he really thought that he had hit upon a compromisesatisfactory to all parties. If so, lie was speedily undeceived. Trixflushed rod and answered angrily, "Pray don't trouble. I don't want togo."
"Perhaps afterwards you might--" suggested the curate, but now rathertimidly.
"I'm going out with Lord Newhaven," said she. And she added in anaccess of uncontrollable annoyance, "Go, please go. I--I don't wantyou."
Jack sheered off, with a look of puzzled shamefacedness. He disappearedinto the house. Nothing passed between Miss Trix and myself. A momentlater Newhaven came out.
"Why, Miss Queenborough," said he, in apparent surprise, "Ives is goingwith Mrs. Wentworth in the canoe!"
In an instant I saw what she had done. In rash presumption she had toldNewhaven that she was going with the curate--and now the curate hadrefused to take her--and Ives had met him in search of Mrs. Wentworth.What could she do? Well, she rose--or fell--to the occasion. In thecoldest of voices she said, "I thought you'd gone for your walk."
"I was just starting," he answered apologetically, "when I met Ives.But, as you weren't going with him---" He paused, an inquiring look inhis eyes. He was evidently asking himself why she had not gone with thecurate.
"I'd rather be left alone, if you don't mind," said she. And then,flushing red again, she added. "I changed my mind and refused to gowith Mr. Ives. So he went off to get Mrs. Wentworth instead."
I started. Newhaven looked at her for an instant, and then turned onhis heel. She turned to me, quick as lightning and with her face allaflame, "If you tell, I'll never speak to you again," she whispered.
After this there was silence for some minutes.
"Well?" she said, without looking at me.
"I have no remark to offer, Miss Queenborough," I returned.
"I suppose that was a lie, wasn't it?" she asked, defiantly.
"It's not my business to say what it was," was my discreet answer.
"I know what you're thinking."
"I was thinking-," said I, "which I would rather be--the man you willmarry, or the man you would like---"
"How dare you? It's not true. Oh, Mr. Wynne, indeed it's not true!"
Whether it were true or not I did not know. But if it had been, MissTrix Queenborough might have been expected to act very much in the wayin which she proceeded to act: that is to say, to be extravagantlyattentive to Lord Newhaven when Jack Ives was present, and markedlyneglectful of him in the curate's absence. It also fitted in very wellwith the theory which I had ventured to hint, that her bearing towardsMrs. Went worth was distinguished by a stately civility, and herremarks about that lady by a superfluity of laudation; for if these benot two distinguishing marks of rivalry in the well-bred, I must goback to my favorite books and learn from them--more folly. And ifTrix's manners were all that they should be, praise no less high mustbe accorded to Mrs. Wentworth's; she attained an altitude of admirableunconsciousness, and conducted her flirtation (the poverty of languageforces me to the word, but it is over flippant) with the curate in astaid, quasi-maternal way. She called him a delightful boy, and saidthat she was intensely interested in all his aims and hopes.
"What does she want?" I asked Dora, despairingly. "She can't want tomarry him." I was referring to Trix Queenborough, not to Mrs. Wentworth.
"Good gracious, no!" answered Dora, irritably. "It's simple jealousy.She won't let the poor boy alone till he's in love with her again.It's a horrible shame!"
"Oh, well, he has great recuperative power," said I.
"She'd better be careful, though. It's a very dangerous game. How doyou suppose Lord Newhaven likes it?"
Accident gave me that very day a hint how little Lord Newhaven likedit, and a glimpse of the risk Miss Trix was running. Entering thelibrary suddenly, I heard Newhaven's voice raised above his ordinarytones.
"I won't stand it," he was declaring. "I never know how she'll treat mefrom one minute to the next."
My entrance, of course, stopped the conversation very abruptly.Newhaven had come to a stand in the middle of the room, and LadyQueenborough sat on the sofa, a formidable frown on her brow.Withdrawing myself as rapidly as possible, I argued the probability ofa severe lecture for Miss Trix, ending in a command to try her noblesuitor's patience no longer. I hope all this happened, for I, notseeing why Mrs. Wentworth should monopolize the grace of sympathy, tookthe liberty of extending mine to Newhaven. He was certainly in lovewith Trix, not with her money, and the treatment he underwent must havebeen as trying to his feelings as it was galling to his pride.
My sympathy was not premature, for Miss Trix's fascinations, which wereindubitably great, began to have their effect. The scene about thecanoe was re-enacted, but with a different denouement. This time thepromise was forgotten, and the widow forsaken. Then Mrs. Wentworth puton her armor. We had, in fact, reached this very absurd situation thatthese two ladies were contending for the favors of, or the dominationover, such an obscure, poverty-stricken, hopelessly ineligible personas the curate of Poltons undoubtedly was. The position seemed to methen, and still seems, to indicate some remarkable qualities in thatyoung man.
At last Newhaven made a move. At breakfast, on Wednesday morning, heannounced that, reluctant as he should be to leave Poltons Park, he wasdue at his aunt's place, in Kent, on Saturday evening, and musttherefore make his arrangements to leave by noon on that day. Thesignificance was apparent. Had he come down to breakfast with "Now orNever!" stamped in fiery letters across his brow, it would have beenmore obtrusive, indeed, but not a whit plainer. We all looked down atour plates, except Jack Ives. He flung one glance (I saw it out of thecorner of my left eye) at Newhaven, another at Trix; then he remarkedkindly--
"We shall be uncommonly sorry to lose you, Newhaven."
Events began to happen now, and I will tell them as well as I am able,supplementing my own knowledge by what I learnt afterwards fromDora--she having learnt it from the actors in the scene. In spite ofthe solemn warning conveyed in Newhaven's intimation, Trix, greatlydaring, went off immediately after lunch for what she described as 'along ramble' with Mr. Ives. There was, indeed, the excuse of an oldwoman at the end of the ramble, and Trix provided Jack with a smallbasket of comforts for the useful old body; but the ramble was, wefelt, the thing, and I was much annoyed at not being able to accompanythe walkers in the cloak of darkness or other invisible contrivance.The ramble consumed three hours--full measure. Indeed, it was half-pastsix before Trix alone, walked up the drive. Newhaven, a solitaryfigure, paced up and down the terrace fronting the drive. Trix came on,her head thrown back and a steady smile on her lips. She saw Newhaven:he stood looking at her for a moment with what she afterwards describedas an indescribable smile on his face, but not, as Dora understood fromher, by any means a pleasant one. Yet, if not pleasant, there is notthe least doubt in the world that it was highly significant; for shecried out nervously, "Why are you looking at me like that? What's thematter?"
Newhaven, still saying nothing, turned his back on her and made as ifhe would walk into the house and leave her there, ignored, discarded,done with. She, realizing the crisis which had come, forgettingeverything except the imminent danger of losing him once for all,without time for long explanation or any round--about seductions, ranforward, laying her hand on his arm and blurting out, "But I've refusedhim."
I do not know what Newhaven thinks now, but I sometimes doubt whetherhe would not
have been wiser to shake off the detaining hand and pursuehis lonely way, first into the house, and ultimately to his aunt's. But(to say nothing of the twenty thousand a year, which, after all, andlie you as romantic as you may please to be, is not a thing to besneezed at) Trix's face, its mingled eagerness and shame, its flushedcheeks and shining eyes, the piquancy of its unwonted humility,overcame him. He stopped dead.
"I--I was obliged to give him an--an opportunity," said Miss Trix,having the grace to stumble a little in her speech. "And--and it's allyour fault."
The war was thus, by happy audacity, carried into Newhaven's ownquarters.
"My fault!" he exclaimed. "My fault that you walk all day with thatcurate!"
Then Miss Trix--and let no irrelevant considerations mar theappreciation of line acting--dropped her eyes and murmured softly,"I--I was so terribly afraid of seeming to expect you."
Wherewith she (and not he) ran away, lightly, up the stairs, turningjust one glance downwards as she reached the landing. Newhaven waslooking up from below with an 'enchanted' smile--the word is Trix'sown: I should probably have used a different one.
Was then the curate of Poltons utterly defeated--brought to his knees,only to lie spurned? It seemed so: and he came down to dinner thatnight with a subdued and melancholy expression. Trix, on the otherhand, was brilliant and talkative to the last degree, and the gayetyspread from her all round the table, leaving untouched only therejected lover and Mrs. Wentworth; for the last-named lady, true to herdistinguishing quality, had begun to talk to poor Jack Ives in lowsoothing tones.
After dinner Trix was not visible; but the door of the little boudoirbeyond stood half-open, and very soon Newhaven edged his way through.Almost at the same moment Jack Ives and Mrs. Wentworth passed out ofthe window and began to walk up and down the gravel. Nobody but myselfappeared to notice these remarkable occurrences, but I watched themwith keen interest. Half an hour passed and then there smote on mywatchful ear the sound of a low laugh from the boudoir. It was followedalmost immediately by a stranger sound from the gravel walk. Then, allin a moment, two things happened. The boudoir door opened, and Trix,followed by Newhaven, came in smiling; from the window entered JackIves and Mrs. Wentworth. My eyes were on the curate. He gave one suddencomprehending glance towards the other couple; then he took the widowshand, led her up to Dora, and said, in low yet penetrating tones, "Willyou wish us joy, Mrs. Polton?" The Squire, Rippleby, and Algy Stantonwere round them in an instant. I kept my place, watching now the faceof Trix Queenborough. She turned first flaming red, then very pale. Isaw her turn to Newhaven and speak one or two urgent imperative wordsto him. Then, drawing herself up to her full height, she crossed theroom to where the group was assembled round Mrs. Wentworth and JackIves.
"What's the matter? What are you saying?" she asked.
Mrs. Wentworth's eyes were modestly cast down, but a smile played roundher mouth. No one spoke for a moment. Then Jack Ives said, "Mrs.Wentworth has promised to be my wife. Miss Queenborough."
For a moment, hardly perceptible. Trix hesitated; then, with the mostwinning, touching, sweetest smile in the world, she said, "So you tookmy advice, and our afternoon walk was not wasted after all!"
Mrs. Polton is not used to these fine flights of diplomacy; she hadheard before dinner something of what had actually happened in theafternoon; and the simple woman positively jumped. Jack Ives met Trix'sscornful eyes full and square.
"Not at all wasted," said he with a smile. "Not only has it shown mewhere my true happiness lies, but it has also given me a juster idea ofthe value and sincerity of your regard for me, Miss Queenborough."
"It is as real, Mr. Ives, as it is sincere," said she.
"It is like yourself, Miss Queenborough," said he, with a little bow;and he turned from her and began to talk to his fiancee.
Trix Queenborough moved slowly towards where I sat. Newhaven waswatching her from where he stood alone on the other side; of the room.
"And have you no news for us?" I asked, in low tones.
"Thank you," she said haughtily; "I don't care that mine should be apendant to the great tidings about the little widow and the curate."
After a moment's pause she went on:
"He lost no time, did he? He was wise to secure her before whathappened this afternoon could leak out. Nobody can tell her now."
"This afternoon?"
"He asked me to marry him this afternoon."
"And you refused?"
"Yes."
"Well, his behavior is in outrageously bad taste, but---"
She laid a hand on my arm, and said in calm level tones,
"I refused him because I dared not have him; but I told him I cared forhim, and he said he loved me. And I let him kiss me. Good-night, Mr.Wynne."
I sat still and silent. Newhaven came across to us. Trix put out herhand and caught him by the sleeve.
"Fred," she said, "my dear honest old Fred, you love me, don't you?"
Newhaven, much embarrassed and surprised, looked at me in alarm. Buther hand was in his now, and her eyes imploring him.
"I should rather think I did, my dear," said he.
I really hope that Lord and Lady Newhaven will not be very unhappy,while Mrs. Ives quite worships her husband, and is convinced that sheeclipsed the brilliant and wealthy Miss Queenborough. Perhaps shedid--perhaps not. There are, as I have said, great qualities in thecurate of Poltons, but I have not quite made up my mind precisely whatthey are. I ought, however, to say that Dora takes a more favorableview of him and a less lenient view of Trix than I. That is perhapsnatural. Besides, Dora does not know the precise manner in which thecurate was refused. By the way, he preached next Sunday on the text,"The children of this world are wiser in their generation than thechildren of light."