replied.
"And he's pretending he can't stay to dinner," put in Lady Marth.--"Asif your aunt would mind, Archie!"
He did not at once reply. He was shaking hands with Blanche.
"How do you do, Miss Derwent?" he said easily. "I hope Mrs Derwent iswell, and that famous little brother of yours?"
"Yes, thank you," said Blanche, in a tone which she endeavoured torender unconstrained, though feeling for once nervous, and ill at easeand disgusted at herself for being so, especially as Mr Dunstan struckher as his airiest, most conventional self.
"I really can't stay," he went on, turning again to Lady Marth. "Auntieis counting upon me, as she has got a man too few, and some people arecoming to dinner."
"It's only to take in Rosy," said Norman, with a brother's brutality.
"Only Rosy!" repeated Lady Marth. "My dear Norman, if Rosy were any onebut your sister, I don't think you would be quite so much at a loss toaccount for Archie's obstinacy."
Archie laughed a hearty unconstrained laugh. "Archie's taste is notpeculiar; every one loves a _tete-a-tete_ with Rosy, when they have achance of it," said Hebe, with apparently uncalled-for warmth.
"Of course they do," said Sir Adam, speaking for the first time.--"Andnow, my dear Blanche, if you've had a cup of tea, I think we must beoff--I have to get back to Alderwood in time for dinner, too, MasterArchie. By-the-bye, we've got the large brougham--will you come with us_via_ Blissmore, though it is rather a round?"
"Well no, I think I prefer Norman's cart, which is here," said MrDunstan lightly. "Though many thanks, all the same."
"And how is Norman going to get home, then?" said Lady Marth. "You'renot going to force him away too?"
"The cart can come back," said Archie.
"Thank you," said Norman, somewhat grimly. "_Pray_, be on no ceremony."
"There comes our brougham," said Sir Adam, shaking hands with LadyMarth, Blanche following his example.
Then came a more affectionate farewell from Hebe, who accompanied themto the drawing-room door.
"I mustn't go farther," she said; but Norman Milward crossed the hall tosee them off, Mr Dunstan having contented himself with a regulationhand-shake, when standing beside his hostess on the hearthrug.
The air outside felt chilly as they stepped into the carriage, but notso chilly as a strange, unreasonable breath of disappointment, whichseemed to pass through Blanche, though, even to herself, she would haveshrunk from calling it by such a name.
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.
HEBE'S GOOD NEWS.
May again! A later spring this year than last. As Blanche Derwentstood at the window of a house in a broad, airy street, at one end ofwhich the trees of the Park were to be seen, she could scarcely believeit was same time of year, the same date, actually, as the day on whichthe news of their reversal of fortune had reached her mother atPinnerton Lodge.
"That was such a lovely summery day," she said to herself. "I rememberit so well; Stasy and I walking home from Blissmore, laughing andtalking--I even remember what we were talking about--how Stasy wasflattering me;" and Blanche's colour deepened a little. "And then tofind poor mamma as she was when we got home! It was dreadful. And yet,how wonderfully all that side of things has come right! I _should_ begrateful, and I think I am;" but still she gave a little sigh.
Sir Adam had carried out his scheme. He had taken a house in London fora part of the season, and had got his god-daughter and her children withhim, excepting Herty, whom it had been thought wiser to leave under MissHalliday's care, not to interrupt his lessons.
Just then Stasy joined her sister.
"What are you doing, Blanche?" she said brightly.
"I thought it was against your principles to stand idle at the window.Even though these lovely London streets are delightful to look out on."
Blanche smiled.
"How you have changed, Stasy! London used to be a synonym with you foreverything dreary and miserable."
"Yes, I daresay. London in November, with a fog, in a horrid hotel, andwithout a creature to speak to, isn't exactly the same thing as Londonin May, in a bright open street like this, and with--really, I must say,everything one could reasonably wish to have."
"London means a great many things--worlds and worlds of differentlives," said Blanche soberly. "I was just thinking how bare the treesare, Stasy, compared with this time last year;" and she reminded hersister of the date.
Stasy seemed impressed.
"It should make us awfully thankful," she said, "and I'm sure it does.But I don't quite understand you lately, Blanchie. You so often seemrather depressed, and just a little gloomy."
She looked at her sister anxiously as she spoke.
"I wonder," she went on--"I wonder if it is that you kept up too wellwhen we were in such trouble. You were always so cheerful, and I usedto be so cross. Do you remember my raging at Mrs Burgess's caps?"
"No," said Blanche decidedly. "You were always as good as could be. Idon't know how we should have got on without your fun and mischief, andI know I've grown horrid lately."
"Are you not well, perhaps?" said Stasy. "I don't think you have beenquite yourself for a long time. I remember noticing it first, thatChristmas week at Alderwood, when I did so enjoy myself. Even LadyMarth couldn't freeze me up."
"On the contrary, I think you're rather a favourite of hers," remarkedBlanche.
"Oh, I don't mind her," said Stasy. "She's not bad, after all; only shewants to manage every one's affairs for them. I wonder if she'll eversucceed in her match-making?"
"What do you mean?" said Blanche.
"Oh, you know, you must have forgotten about it. Rosy Milward andArchie Dunstan, of course."
Blanche turned on her sharply.
"I do hope, Stasy, you're not going to get into that odious habit ofcalling men you scarcely know, by their first names."
Stasy opened her eyes very wide.
"I do know him, very well, I consider, and so do you, only you don'tlike him. We saw a great deal of him at Christmas time, and _I_ shallalways consider him a true friend, whether you do or not. And so willmamma, I'm sure; the way he stuck to us, and was so kind to Herty at thetime when no one else troubled their heads about us at all. Indeed, I'mby no means sure that Sir Adam would have found out about us as he did,not for a long time anyway, but for Mr Dunstan the younger. Does thatsuit you, Blanchie?"
Blanche took no notice of Stasy's sarcasm.
"I know he was very good at that time," she said. "I think he has mostkind and generous impulses, but I don't think his character can be verydeep."
"I think you are perfectly unfair and very censorious," said Stasyindignantly. "Because you don't personally like the man, and _cannot_give any good reason for your dislike, you imagine qualities, or noqualities, to justify your own prejudice."
"Well, what does it matter what I think?" said Blanche, in a tone whichshe intended to be light and indifferent. "Rosy Milward's opinion ofhim is, I suppose, the thing that signifies."
_Something_ in her voice struck Stasy. She eyed Blanche curiously.
"I don't know that," she said, speaking more slowly than was usual withher. "I'm not at all sure that Archie Dunstan does care in any specialway what dear Rosy thinks about him."
"Do you not think so?" said Blanche, with involuntary eagerness; butbefore Stasy had time to reply, they were interrupted by their mother'sentering the room.
"Quick, dears," she said. "You must get ready. Sir Adam will bewaiting for you."
For the kind old man was devoting himself to "doing" London for hisadopted grand-daughters' benefit, two or three times a week, in theearlier part of the day.
At that very moment, at no great distance from the spot where Blancheand Stasy Derwent had been discussing Archie Dunstan's character, thevery person in question was sitting beside Lady Marth in her boudoir,listening to a very solemn oration discoursed, for his benefit, by thatsomewhat dictatorial lady herself.
She had sum
moned him by a note the evening before, and as he felthimself in duty bound to obey the behest of an old friend, he had madehis appearance punctually. He was not without some suspicion as to thenature of the good advice she intended to bestow upon him, but saw noadvantage in evading the interview.
"I must put an end to it, once for all," he thought to himself. "Whywill women meddle in such matters? But Josephine is honest andtrustworthy when she feels herself trusted, so I'd rather have to