more--the only strangers a mother and daughter who havejust arrived, whom I suppose I _must_ invite, friends of the WyverstonHeadforts, by-the-by," he added, turning to Philippa.
But for once the name of Wyverston foiled to catch her attention, soengrossed was she in the question of Maida's joining the picnic.
"Yes," she said, speaking with reference to the first part of MrGresham's speech, of which he felt instinctively that she greatlyapproved, "yes, dear Mrs Lermont, I really am _sure_ it would do Maidano harm. We should all take such care of her, and you would be thereyourself."
"Of course," said Mr Gresham, cordially, "I am counting on you and MrLermont, and Mr Raynsworth; I think the touch of antiquarian interestabout the chateau may be a lure to him, may it not?" with a glance atPhilippa.
"I have no doubt it would be," she replied. "But I will _make_ him comewhether he cares about the fifteenth-century tower still standing ornot," said Philippa, laughingly.
"Miss Raynsworth, Miss Raynsworth," said Mr Gresham, "you have been`reading up,' and you will come out with your learning to shame us all."
"That would be so like Philippa!" said Maida, touching the girl'sshoulder affectionately. "But, mother, we are waiting for yourdecision," for Mrs Lermont had not spoken again.
"Silence gives consent," said Philippa, and as her hostess only smiled,so her reply was interpreted.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
"RENCONTRES."
Morning broke over a cloudless sky the day of the expedition to theChateau de C---, the last but two of the Raynsworths' sojourn at Cannes.
Philippa woke with that vague sensation of something pleasant to come,which in youth at least--and let us hope in a modified degree in lateryears too--is almost as familiar as its converse, that sad awaking fromtemporary forgetfulness when the memory struggles in spite of itself toremember "what it is that is wrong."
There was only one touch of "wrongness" to cloud the girl's happyanticipations, and that was the knowledge that this delightful holidaytime was so nearly at an end.
"But I am not going to think about that--not to-day, at least," she saidto herself as she dressed. "I am going for once to live entirely in thepresent."
And these laudable resolutions she repeated in her light-heartedness toher host for the moment, Mr Gresham, some four or five hours later,when, already arrived at their destination, for, to avoid the heat ofthe day, they had made an early start, at his request, she was spyingthe land, otherwise the grounds of the old house, with him in search ofthe best place for _dejeuner_.
He commended her resolution warmly.
"And after all," he continued, "in many cases--or some, at least--pleasant times--I am more honoured than I can express by yourconsidering to-day one of them--are only the precursors of others asagreeable. Let us hope that it may be so in our case. I am determinedto get the Marmadukes over to Merle again before long, and this time Itrust you will be able to accompany them."
"I should like it very much indeed, thank you," said Philippa, "if--"but her sentence was never finished.
Almost as the "if" formed itself on her lips, a sudden pallor crept overher face, and she started slightly.
Mr Gresham looked up in surprise.
"Have you twisted your ankle?" he was beginning to ask, when he caughtsight of one or two of the servants who had followed in a _char-a-banc_,and who were now busily unpacking the provisions, just emerging from thecourtyard, as he and Philippa passed the entrance. And one of these, amiddle-aged woman, unexceptionable in appearance as a superior maid, tohis surprise stopped short, as if about to accost his companion.
"Miss Ray!" she exclaimed; "you here!" were the words that he thought heheard. And the two first, seeming so like the beginning of Philippa'sname, would probably not have struck him curiously--the woman might havebeen a former servant of the family's for all he knew--but for thefamiliarity of the ejaculation that followed, a familiarity sounmistakable that he instinctively glanced _past_ his companion as if insearch of the person to whom they were addressed, so impossible did itseem to him that the woman was speaking to Miss Raynsworth.
But there was no one else behind or near themselves. And again he sawthat Philippa's face was still very pale, though she walked on rathermore quickly than before, taking not the very slightest notice of theperson who had spoken. And she on her side, after throwing a curiousglance in Miss Raynsworth's direction, in like manner passed on with hertwo or three companions.
"Did that woman speak to you? What did she say? Is she insane?" saidMr Gresham, in a tone of annoyance.
Philippa turned to him with a slight smile, but her lips were quiveringa little.
"She--she certainly startled me," she said. "I am afraid you will thinkI have no nerves at all. It is absurd to be so easily startled."
"But she said your name, or something like it," persisted Mr Gresham."What could she have been thinking of?"
"I--I don't think she said my name," replied Philippa. "She must have--have taken me for some one else."
Her companion felt strangely annoyed. There was something about MissRaynsworth's manner that he could not define. In spite of her havingbeen so visibly startled, she did not seem "natural," scarcely, in asense, surprised at this curious incident, almost as if she were tooabsent-minded to have taken it in! Then a new and more agreeableexplanation of her nervousness occurred to him. What had they beentalking about just at the moment they met the woman? Yes, MissRaynsworth was in the act of answering what he had said about her comingto Merle, perhaps that was it; perhaps, and the thought touched him witha certain tenderness, at that moment it had flashed upon her for thefirst time that he was beginning to care for her specially; that it wasnot every girl he would show himself so anxious to meet again; no wonderit was rather bewildering and startling. She was so unsophisticated, sofree from vanity and that detestable _aplomb_ of young women in society!Mr Gresham felt satisfied that he had hit the right nail on the head.
So though he muttered something about "impertinence," "how could any onemake such an extraordinary mistake," his annoyance at the incidentgradually subsided. Only for a moment or two it was in danger ofreviving, as Philippa, shaking off her dreaminess with an effort, lookedup quietly and inquired with perfect calm:
"Who was that person? Do you know her by sight?"
"I have an idea that she is Mrs Worthing's maid," he said. He wishedPhilippa had let the thing drop; its vulgarity spoilt the idyllic charmof the scene, and the day, and his new thoughts about herself. "Iremember her teasing me to let the woman come--she was so useful athelping on these occasions, and so on. And she was walking with LadyMary's servants. But what does it matter? I shall take care that youare not annoyed again. How _could_ she have imagined you any one butyourself?" with a rather forced laugh.
"Oh," said the girl, reassuringly, "at the first glance one does notnotice--dress, and that kind of thing. My _face_ must have reminded herof some one she knew. Do not say anything about it to any one, I beg ofyou; it would be making the maid of far too much consequence, I assureyou. And if her mistress is a friend of yours, it might--might possiblylead to some annoyance."
"You are far too good-natured," he replied. "However, I daresay you areright. It would be making the woman of too much consequence to speak ofit to Mrs Worthing. Not that the Worthings are special friends ofmine. I had to ask them, though we should have been more the sort ofparty I wished without them. But I agree with Michael about MrsWorthing."
Another shock for Philippa; somehow this was the first time that hiscousin's name had been mentioned to her by Mr Gresham. And after all,what did it matter? She must get accustomed to hearing Michael Greshamspoken of, even perhaps to meeting him if--if her present companion wereto become a permanent friend. It was only unlucky just now, startling,to have that name brought on the _tapis_ when she was already upset anddiscomposed. And to-day, when she had meant to be so happy!
But she must not be so weak-minded. And with this determinati
on--impelled too, half unconsciously, by the strange fascination of asubject she would fain avoid--she looked up at Mr Gresham inquiringly.
"Michael?" she repeated.
He smiled.
"Oh, I forgot," he said. "You don't know the family archangel? I havegot into the habit of imagining that you know all that your sister doesabout--about myself and my home interests. Not that old Michael isexactly a part of my home, except by old association. He is my cousin.We were brought up together, more or less, but there is not any verygreat amount of common ground for us to meet on. He is--ah, well, avery good fellow in his own way, but rather a