CHAPTER XXIII.
ACROSS THE GOLF LINKS.
"Learn to live, and live to learn, Ignorance like a fire burns, Little tasks make large returns."
BAYARD TAYLOR.
"Sits the wind in that quarter."
SHAKESPEARE.
When Waveney went home the following Sunday, she carried with her achoice little piece of information, which she retailed with much gustoat the tea-table.
"Father," she said, in a mysterious voice, "I have found out somethingso interesting about our dear little Monsieur Blackie." Then Mollie, whowas pouring out the tea, paused in her task to listen. "He is a relationof the Misses Harfords--their cousin once removed. Miss Althea told meso. His father, Colonel Ingram, was their own cousin."
Mollie's face wore an awed expression; she was evidently much impressed.But Mr. Ward looked a little perplexed.
"Ingram," he muttered, "I do not remember the name, and yet I thought Iknew all their relations."
"No, father, dear," returned Waveney, gently. "Miss Althea said you hadnever seen any of them--they were living abroad, because Mrs. Ingram'shealth was so bad. There was only one daughter, Gwendoline, and she ismarried now, but I thought you and Mollie would be interested to knowthat he is a connection of the dear ladies at the Red House."
Then Noel solemnly rapped on the table with his knife.
"I propose Monsieur Blackie's health," he said, grandly; "he seems arespectable sort of party, and I am proud to have made his acquaintance.I regret--I may say I deeply regret--that I once made the unluckyobservation that his head was like a scrubbing brush, and that hismoustache was of the Mephistophelian pattern; but what are such triflesbetween friends?" And then his voice grew thin and nasal. "For I guess,and do calculate, ladies and gentlemen, that the party in question isboss of the whole show, and will boom considerable." And then he satdown and glared at Mollie through his _pince-nez_; but Mollie, whoseemed a little flurried and excited, said nothing at all.
Only, as she and Waveney were putting on their hats for church, shesaid, in rather a subdued, quiet little voice,--
"Wave, dear, of course I am glad about Mr. Ingram; but it does not makeany real difference, does it? for we always knew he was a gentleman.Father thinks he must be rich, he is so generous with his money; but hewill never be too grand to be our friend, will he?" Mollie's voice wasnot quite steady when she said this. To her simplicity it seemed asurprising thing that their homely, kindly Monsieur Blackie should havesuch grand relations.
Mollie spent a very happy day at the Red House. Althea, who knew whatgirls love best, told Waveney to take her all over the house and showher everything, and left them alone together. She and Doreen had anengagement for the afternoon, but tea was served up as usual in thelibrary.
When Althea returned she found them nestled together in the bigeasy-chair by the fire, "looking like a couple of babes in the wood,"she said to Doreen afterwards. And it was so pretty and effective apicture that she forbade them to move; and then she sat down and talkedto them in so sweet and friendly a way that Mollie's soft heart was soonwon; and when Noel arrived, looking a little shy and awkward--after thefashion of boys--he found them all talking merrily together.
Both Althea and Doreen were charmed with Mollie. Doreen frankly owned toher sister that she had never seen so beautiful a face.
"If it were not for her lameness she would be perfect," she said,regretfully; and Althea agreed to this.
"It is a pity, of course," she returned, gently; "but there is somethingpathetic in it; and then her unconsciousness is so childlike. She is asweet creature, and I love her already, but not so much as I love mylittle Undine;" for, somehow, both she and Doreen often called her bythis name.
Waveney had not seen her little friend Betty again, but Althea andDoreen were constantly at the house in High Street, and she often heardthem mention her name. Sometimes of an evening, when she was reading toherself, she heard them talking about the Chaytors; and as they neverdropped their voices, she thought it no harm to listen.
"Joa is a different woman," Doreen once said. "I never saw such a changein any one. I always knew Tristram was her favourite. Thorold has toplay second fiddle now; I am a little sorry for him sometimes."
"Your sorrow is wasted, Dorrie," returned her sister, with a smile."Thorold is too big and strong for these petty feelings; he values Joa'speace of mind far too much to disturb it by paltry jealousy. He tells methat for the present Tristram and the child will continue to live withthem, until Tristram can earn enough to keep a respectable roof over hishead. It was very lucky, finding him that berth, and it really suits himvery well. But Joa says that Betty misses her father terribly; shespends half her time at the window, watching for him."
Betty's name was perpetually on the sisters' lips; her queer littlespeeches, her odd ways, her shrewdness and intelligence, and, above all,her warm, childish heart, were favourite topics; and Bet's last was astanding joke with them.
Waveney began to wish to see her again, but Miss Althea never sent hernow to the Chaytors. Once Joanna called and had tea at the Red House,but Betty was not with her; the child had a slight cold, she said, andshe had left her with Jemima. But throughout the visit she talked oflittle else. Bet's lessons, her story-books, the new doll that Altheahad given her, and the basinette that she was trimming for a Christmaspresent, were all discussed quite seriously.
Waveney listened eagerly in her corner. For once she found Miss Chaytorinteresting. Her voice had lost its fretful strain; she spoke withanimation, and as she talked there was a pretty dimple that Waveney hadnever noticed.
"She must have been very pretty when she was a girl," thought Waveney."She is good-looking now, and her face is quite pleasant when shesmiles." And then again she heard Bet's name, and composed herself tolisten.
"The love of that mite for her father is quite wonderful," went onJoanna. "Even Thorold notices it. Quite an hour before Trist is due, Betwill be gluing her face and flattening her nose against the window; andnothing will move her. And all the time she is humming to herself, likea little bird--such funny little scraps of tunes. And then, when hecrosses the road, she is out of the room like a dart. And to hear allher old-fashioned questions to him in the passage! Oh, it almost makesme cry to listen to her! 'Are you very tired, father dear? Have you hada hard day? Does your head ache? and are your feet cold? But Aunt Joahas made up such a big fire!'--something like that every night."
"Bless her little heart," observed Doreen, sympathetically; but Altheaonly smiled.
"And then she brings him in and makes such a fuss over him," went onJoanna. "Just as though he were some feeble, gouty old gentleman. ButTristram lets her do it. I think he likes to feel her little fingersbusy about him. She fetches him his warm slippers, and a footstool, or ascreen if the fire is hot; and when he is quite 'comfy,' as she callsit, she climbs up on his knee and gives him an account of the day."
When Joanna had taken her leave, Althea stood looking into the fire witha grave, abstracted look. But when Doreen returned to the room, shechanged her attitude slightly.
"Joa seems very happy, does she not, Dorrie? She has not worn so brighta face since the Old Manor House days!"
"No, indeed! And it is all Bet's influence. She is like a hen with onechick; it almost makes me laugh to hear her."
"I felt nearer crying, I assure you. But, Dorrie, is it not beautiful tosee how love effaces self. 'And a little child shall lead them;' do youremember those words? Already Bet's tiny fingers have smoothed out thelines on Joa's face, and taught her to smile again."
Waveney only saw Mr. Chaytor on Thursday evenings at the Porch House.The Shakespeare readings were still in full swing, and she still satbeside Nora Greenwell. She sometimes thought that Mr. Chaytor spoke lessto her than to the other girls, though he was always careful to pointout any fault of punctuation; now and then, when she was a little wearyof following the text, she would raise her eyes from h
er books; and morethan once it had given her an odd shock to find at that very moment Mr.Chaytor was quietly regarding her; then some sudden shyness made hereyelids droop again.
Mr. Chaytor took no apparent notice of her. When the reading was over healways joined Althea, and a grave bow, or perhaps a pleasant"good-night," when Waveney left the room, was all that passed betweenthem.
It was strange, then, that as Thorold Chaytor walked down the hill inthe wintry darkness, a little pale face and a pair of dark,_spirituelle_ eyes should invariably haunt him. Never in his life had heseen such eyes, so soft and deep and magnetic.
And then that babyish crop of brown, curly hair--he wondered why shewore it so, it made her look so childish; but he liked it, too--itstruck him that she was lighter, and more sprightly and full of graceand lissomeness, than any girl he had seen, and that his name of Undinesuited her down to the ground. He remembered well her sister's lovelyface, but of the two he preferred his little Undine.
Once, when he had entered the Recreation Hall, and the seat beside NoraGreenwell was vacant, a troubled look came into his eyes; but Waveney,who had only gone across to the house for a book Althea wanted,re-entered a moment later; and Thorold's brow cleared like magic as herlight, springy step passed by his chair.
"I hope I have not disturbed you," she said, rather timidly, as he rosefrom his seat and wished her good-evening; "but Miss Harford hadforgotten her Shakespeare."
"Not at all; but we will begin now." Then, as Waveney opened her book,she wondered at Mr. Chaytor's grave, intent look.
About ten days before Christmas, Waveney, attended by her littlecompanions, Fuss and Fury, started off for a walk over the Common.
It was one of those ideal afternoons in December, when all youngcreatures feel it is a joy to be alive. There had been a heavy frost inthe night, and the bright, wintry sunshine had not yet melted it. TheFrost King had touched the saplings with his white fingers, and even thebare blackberry bushes were transformed into things of beauty. The vastcommon seemed to glitter with whiteness under the pink glow of thewinter's sky.
Waveney had turned her steps towards the golf links. The wind blew morebleakly there, but the wide stretch of open common, with the blackwindmill in the distance, always gave her a pleasant sensation offreedom. She loved to watch the sun sinking into his bed ofbright-coloured clouds. But when the pink glow faded, and the sky-linebecame a cold, steely blue, she shivered a little, as though she hadstayed too long at some pageant, and set her face homewards.
She had walked too far, and she knew the darkness would overtake herlong before she reached the Red House, and then Miss Althea would gentlyadmonish her for her imprudence.
The little dogs were tumbling over each other, and wetting their silkycoats in the frosty grass. Waveney called them sharply to order. If noone were in sight she thought she would race them across the Common; butthe next moment she heard footsteps behind her.
Involuntarily she quickened her own steps. It was rather a lonely partof the Common. There was no one to be seen, only the gaunt, black armsof the windmill seemed to stretch into the darkening sky.
The rapid, even footsteps behind her made her nervous, and gave her thefeeling of being in a nightmare. If she could only look around! Andthen, to her intense relief, a familiar voice pronounced her name.
"Mr. Chaytor!" she gasped, for her heart was beating so fast that shecould hardly speak. "Oh, how glad I am! It was very foolish of me, but Inever can bear to be followed in a lonely place."
"I was afraid I frightened you?" he said, coming to her side, "but youwere walking so fast that I found it difficult to overtake you. Forgiveme, I know I have no right to lecture, but at this hour the golf linksis far too lonely a place for a young lady."
"Yes, you are right," returned Waveney, touched by this kind interest inher welfare, "and I must never walk here again so late. But"--with asigh of regret--"I do love it so."
"Do you?" returned Mr. Chaytor, quickly. "I wonder why." But with hishabitual reserve he forbore to add that it was his favourite walk.
"It is so wide," she replied, in her earnest voice. "All this space withnothing between you and the sky makes one feel so free and happy. Thesunsets are always so beautiful here, and if it were not for theloneliness I should love to watch the darkness, like a big black ogre,swallow up all the lovely light."
It was a pity Waveney could not see Mr. Chaytor's smile.
"Shall we stand and watch it now?" he said, indulgently. "You have asafe escort, so we need not fear your ogre. Only you must not takecold." But Waveney only thanked him, and said that she was late already,and that they had better go.
What a walk that was! and how Waveney remembered it afterwards! If Mr.Chaytor had laid himself out to please and interest her, he could nothave succeeded better. Books, pictures, accounts of his old summerwanderings! And yet not for one moment did Waveney feel that he wastalking down to her level. It seemed the spontaneous outpouring of awell-bred, intellectual man, glad to impart information to a congenialcompanion. But if Waveney was charmed and interested, certainly Mr.Chaytor was gratified. Miss Ward's bright intelligence, her racy andpicturesque remarks, her frankly confessed ignorance, were alldelightful to him; since the old Manor days he had seen so few girls,and none of them had attracted him in the least. There was somethingunique, out of the common, about Miss Ward; he felt vaguely that hewould like to know more of her.
Perhaps it was this feeling that made him say presently "I am afraid youhave forgotten your little friend Betty"--for he knew all about thatmeeting on the Embankment. Betty had given him a most realistic andgraphic account. "And the little lady did warm my hands so, UncleTheo,"--and here Bet rubbed away at his hands until she was red in theface--"and all the time she did talk, and her great big eyes werelaughing at me."
"Bet has a good memory for her friends, and she often talks about you!"continued Thorold. "She is a fascinating little person, even to me,though I do not profess to understand children. She is full ofsurprises. You never get to the end of her. My sister fairly worshipsher!"
"Yes, I know," returned Waveney, softly; "and I am so very glad--gladfor your sister, I mean. I should love to see Betty again. I am not likeyou, Mr. Chaytor; I have been a child-worshipper all my life. Oh, I knowthey are naughty sometimes, but they are so much nearer the angels thanwe are, and they are not such a long way off from heaven."
"'Heaven lies about us in our infancy!' Are you a student of Wordsworth,Miss Ward?" But she shook her head.
"I have read some of his poems," she returned, modestly. "But I amafraid I know very little good poetry."
"That is a pity; but one can always mend a fault. At Easter I proposehaving a course of reading from Tennyson and Mrs. Browning. Ah, here weare at the Red House."
"You will come in and have a cup of tea after your long walk," observedWaveney. "Miss Doreen is in town, but I know Miss Althea is at home."Then, after a moment's hesitation, Mr. Chaytor assented and followed herinto the house.
"My dear child, how late you are!" observed Althea, rather anxiously, asWaveney opened the library door. "I was getting nervous about you!"
"I am afraid I am rather late," confessed the girl; "but, fortunately, Imet Mr. Chaytor, and he has come in with me for some tea." Then therewas no lack of welcome in Althea's face and voice. Fresh tea wasordered, and another supply of hot buttered scones, a big pine-logthrown on the fire; and as Thorold sat in his luxurious chair, with aglass screen between him and the blaze, with his little walkingcompanion opposite him, and Althea's warm smile on them both, he hadnever felt himself more comfortable, or at his ease.