bear--doesn't shine insociety--in fact, it and he know very little about each other."
"Why so?" asked Philippa. She was nervously anxious not to seem toavoid the subject of the younger Gresham, and even more so to prove toherself that she had completely mastered her uneasiness. And she wasnot free from curiosity about Michael, both as to himself and as to thelight in which Bernard regarded him. "Are you joking," she went on,"when you call him `the family archangel,' or do you really mean that heis very, remarkably good?"
"Honestly," said Mr Gresham, "I don't quite know. Good things are notnecessarily the most agreeable, are they? Rather the other waysometimes. Oh, yes, Michael's very good, a model of steadiness andindustry and all the rest of it, but not distinguished by suavity andcharm of manner. He lives so out of things, you see."
"Is he a misanthrope, then?" asked Miss Raynsworth, her curiosityincreasing.
Mr Gresham hesitated. He was a very truthful man, and prided himselfintellectually as well as morally on his accuracy. And Philippa'squestion revived some old memories. Michael a misanthrope! Who wouldever have associated such a word with the bright-faced schoolboy of notso very many years back, or the young fellow going up to college witheverything this world can give him in the present and the future? Andthen the change; the shock of finding on his death that the father hehad so honoured had for years deceived him and his too confiding mother,the clouded name, the broken-hearted widow, who had no strength to rallyeven for her boy's sake; the transference to Bernard, the son of ayounger brother, of the inheritance which, but for his father'smisdoings, would at least in some part have been his! No, by natureassuredly Michael was no misanthrope, but if circumstances had conspiredto make him one, would it have been a thing to wonder at?
But all this the elder cousin had no wish to explain to the girl besidehim. Still he was loyal, and his face had grown graver as at last heturned to reply:
"No," he said, "it wouldn't be fair to call him that. He's had--he'shad troubles enough to sour him, and he's not soured. And--oh, well, togive him his due, he has been a bit of a hero in his time."
Philippa looked up quickly. She had never liked Mr Gresham so much asat this moment. And some instinct told him so.
"I cannot tell you all about it," he said. "He would not wish it, eventhough you do not know him. But I can give you some idea of it. Hegave up great advantages for himself for the sake of clearing the nameof one whom he had little reason to sacrifice himself for. _I_ think itwas quixotry, and so do many others, except--well, yes, there wasanother element in it, the peace of mind of one very dear to him. Hewas very young; I doubt if he realised the grind of a life he wasbringing upon himself."
"Has he to work so hard, then?" the girl inquired. "If so, I scarcelysee that he can be reproached with keeping `out of things,' as you sayhe does."
There was a touch of reproach in her tone now, which her companion didnot approve of.
"Oh, as to that," he said, airily, "it's a matter of temperament, andpersonal idiosyncrasy. Many very busy men find time to mix in society.But Michael's a bear; there are only two individuals in the world that Iwould care to assert that he loves--individuals, not people, for one isa dog."
"And the other?" said Philippa.
"The other is an old woman," said Mr Gresham. Miss Raynsworth saidnothing, but probably she thought the more. Something in hercompanion's manner gave her the impression that he did not wish toprolong the conversation in its present direction. And just then anexclamation impulsively escaped her. They had turned a corner sharply,in their progress round what had once been the ramparts of the littlefortress, and below them lay a charming view--for the chateau stood onhigh ground, though the ascent to it was so gradual that one hardlyrealised its importance.
"How lovely!" she exclaimed.
"Yes," Mr Gresham agreed, "this is one of the attractions of the place.I wanted to surprise you--it bursts on one so suddenly," and he beganto point out to her the landmarks of interest to be more or lessidentified from where they stood.
"Don't you think," he added, in conclusion, "that this smooth bit ofgrass here would be our best dining-room? The view would give peoplesomething to talk about and quarrel over--no two would agree as to whatplaces can be seen and what not, if other topics of conversation fallflat."
So the stretch of old turf--as much moss as grass, perhaps, but none theless charming on that account--was decided upon for the luncheon. Andafter all, the day turned out a pleasant and amusing one for Philippa,in spite of the shock of the unlucky "rencontre." In the interest oftalking about Michael Gresham; apart from all personal feelings inconnection with him, she had forgotten her nervous dread of him. Morethan once during the day, his cousin's remarks about him, vague as theyhad been, recurred to her memory.
"I wonder what it was he did, or sacrificed, to make Mr Gresham speakof him as `a bit of a hero,'" she thought.
He was once alluded to in her hearing in the course of the day, and thatwas by Mrs Worthing, whom Philippa recognised as one of the visitorswhom she had often caught sight of from her watch-tower at Wyverston.Mrs Worthing was the type of woman whom one is pretty sure to meet inany "society," using the word in the narrowly conventional sense. Shewas of indefinite age and appearance, well-dressed and well-bred, anaffectionate though somewhat tyrannical mother, to an, for these days,unusually submissive daughter. There was a papa Worthing too, whoappeared in orthodox fashion on orthodox occasions, such as his wife'sdinner-parties and receptions, but he was a very busy man, and, apartfrom his own line, uninteresting. So when "the Worthings" were alludedto, it could be taken for granted that the mother and daughter only weremeant.
Aline Worthing was undoubtedly pretty, and, so far, her blue eyes werewithout the hard metallic light which was often to be seen in hermother's. But she was by no means a clever or original girl. MrsWorthing, of better birth than her husband, came from the north, not farfrom Wyverston, and old family associations had been kept up to someextent between the Headforts and herself. It was at Wyverston that shehad first met the Greshams.
She spoke graciously to Miss Raynsworth when the young girl wasintroduced to her, a certain reflection of the Headfort lustre beingassociated with Mrs Marmaduke's sister. But there was a touch ofcondescension, not to say patronage, mingled with the graciousness,which made Philippa doubly glad that her meetings with the mistress, aswell as the maid, were not likely to recur.
"I have met your sister, I believe," said Mrs Worthing. "We werestaying at Wyverston when she came there last autumn; her first visitthere, you remember," she went on, turning to Mr Gresham. "It musthave been quite an ordeal for her, without her husband too."
"First visits to new relations must always be something of an ordeal fora bride," said Maida, quickly and rather thoughtlessly, for she detectedthe covert impertinence.
"Ah, but you see, it was not exactly that," continued Mrs Worthing."You could scarcely call Mrs Marmaduke Headfort a _bride_--she has twoor three children. And, but for my poor, dear friend's terriblesorrows, the connection is not a very near one--only second cousin-shipor something of that kind."
"My brother-in-law's father was Mr Headfort's nephew," said Philippa,quietly, determined not to be suppressed.
Mrs Worthing held up her hands in smiling deprecation.
"Oh, dear, dear," she said, "that is beyond me. It reminds one of`Dick's father and John's son.'--Aline--where is Aline?--can you unravelit? Aline is so good at riddles."
"And I maintain," said Maida, smiling too, and absolutely ignoring MrsWorthing's latter remarks, "that my cousin was certainly in the_position_ of a bride; possibly you are not aware, Mrs Worthing, thatthe Marmaduke Headforts went out to India immediately they were married,and Evelyn only came home comparatively recently."
"Your cousin?" repeated Mrs Worthing. "Dear me! I am all at sea. Idid not know you were connected with the Headforts."
"Nor are we," said Mrs Lermont, "but Mr _Raynsworth_ here," with apleasant glanc
e in his direction, "is my husband's cousin."
"We are getting quite into a genealogical tree," said Mrs Worthing,"and I _am_ so stupid at that sort of thing. I never know who peopleare or to whom they are related or anything like that. And I don'tcare. _I_ like people for what they _are_, in themselves, you know.Mr Worthing says I am a regular Socialist--like _your_ cousin, MrGresham--that dear eccentric Michael and his dog."
"I must set you right on two points, I fear, Mrs Worthing," saidBernard, gravely. "Michael is not a Socialist, and his