CHAPTER TEN.
AT HALDANE'S.
Delia was a quick and graceful cyclist, and now on her beautiful newmachine she seemed to fly as she skimmed the level and well-kept roads;and although she covered the eleven miles intervening between Bassinghamand Haldane's house--a pleasant country box--in a little over the hourshe was neither hot nor blown. Yvonne was strolling on the lawn, andgreeted her with great cordiality.
"Is that your post-card collection?" she said as she helped to unstrapthree large albums from the carrier. "Why, it must be as big as mine.I am longing to see it. We'll overhaul it after lunch down there,"indicating a spreading tree by the stream which gave forth abundantshade.
"What a lovely kitten," cried Delia.
"Isn't it?" said Yvonne, picking it up. "Only it isn't a kitten; it'sfull-grown. It's a kind that never grows large--do you, Poogie?" sheadded lovingly, stroking the beautiful little animal, which nestled toher, purring contentedly. It was of the Angora type, with small,lynxlike ears, thick, rich fur with regular markings, and a spreadingtail. "We got it in Switzerland. I wasn't going to lose the chance.You might go all your life and never see another like it, so I madefather buy it for me. It follows me like a dog. If I walk up and downit walks up and down with me. Look."
"How sweet," said Delia, watching the little creature as, with tailerect, it paced daintily beside them. "I do love them like that."
"So do I, and so does father. I believe if anything happened to Poogiehe'd be as sick about it as I would."
"I don't wonder." And, all unconsciously, the speaker had morecompletely won Yvonne's heart.
Even the shyest--and Delia was not addicted to shyness--would have feltat ease as they sat down, a party of three. Haldane had a frank, easyway with him towards those he did not dislike, calculated to make themfeel at home, especially in the case of a bright, pretty, andintelligent girl, and soon all three were chatting and laughing as ifthey had known each other all their lives. Delia was at her best, andtalked intelligently and well, as she could do when temporarilyemancipated from the depressing atmosphere of Siege House.
"What a beautiful place Hilversea Court is, Mr Haldane," she saidpresently.
"Yes. Too big for me. Very good as a show place; but for living ingive me a box like this."
The said "box" at that moment looked out upon a wondrously lovely bit ofsummer landscape--great clouds of vivid foliage against the blue sky;intervening seas of meadow, golden with spangling buttercups; and in theimmediate foreground a stretch of green lawn, flower-bedded, and tunefulwith the murmur of bees, blending with the plash of the stream beyond.Within, all was correspondingly bright and cheerful.
"Father says Hilversea Court exists for the sole purpose of framing oldMr Wagram," said Yvonne. "That Grandisonian, old-world look about himwouldn't be in keeping with anything more modern."
"No, it wouldn't," assented Haldane. "But, as I said before--never tothe Wagrams, though--the place is much too big to live in."
"I suppose they are passionately attached to it?" asked Delia.
"That's the word. If they have a weakness it is a conviction that theworld revolves round Hilversea, and this conviction Wagram holds, ifpossible, a trifle more firmly than the old Squire."
"Really?"
"Yes; but he acts in keeping with the idea. There isn't a better lookedafter place--well, in the world, I may safely say. All the people on itsimply idolise him, especially since the old Squire turned over thewhole management to him."
"How perfectly delightful," pronounced Delia. "I can well imagine it,for a more kind and considerate man can hardly exist. Fancy, thatsplendid new bicycle I'm riding he insisted on sending me in place ofmine that got smashed up by the gnu--an old rattle-trap of a thing thatwould hardly have fetched its value in old iron."
"Yes; that's just the sort of thing he would do," said Yvonne.
Then Delia went on to tell about the typewriting work he had beeninstrumental in procuring for her sister; and they talked Wagram forsome time longer, in such wise as should have put the heir-apparent ofHilversea to the painful blush could he have overheard them.
"What I object to about him, though," said Haldane, "is that he shirkshis duties on the Bench. I suppose if it weren't that he can hardlyhelp being on the commission of the peace he'd resign."
"I'm sure he would," declared Yvonne. "You know, Miss Calmour, he saysit doesn't seem his mission to to be punishing other people."
"Ho--ho--ho!" laughed Haldane. "Decidedly, then, he had forgotten thatprinciple when he caned that cad for you the other day, Sunbeam. Heseems to have waled the fellow within an inch of his life."
"Why? What was that?" asked Delia, looking up with quick interest. Andthen the story came out.
"The brute deserved all he got," she exclaimed with heat, and there wassomething like adoration in the glance she sent at Yvonne. This lovelychild-woman, in her exquisite refinement, to be insulted by a common orroadside cad!
"And he deserved all he's going to get if ever I have the pleasure ofbeholding him," supplemented Haldane grimly.
"No, he isn't, father, for I don't believe I should know him again fromAdam, in the first place. In the second, I shouldn't point him out toyou if I did. Thirdly and lastly, I think the poor beast got quiteenough that day."
"He couldn't. Don't you agree with me, Miss Calmour?"
"Most decidedly," said Delia, looking again at Yvonne. The latterlaughed.
"The thing isn't worth making any more fuss about," she said, with ashake of her golden head. "And, if we have all done, it's time to lookat the post-cards; I'm longing to see them."
Now, through all this conversation Delia was conscious that she hadnever enjoyed a more excellent lunch. Haldane was fond of the goodthings of life, and his Moselle was irreproachable--so, too, was Yvonneas a hostess--and, being gifted with a fine, healthy appetite, begottenof youth and a bicycle ride, their guest was in a position to appreciateit nicely.
The two girls adjourned to the shade of the big tree that Yvonne hadpointed out, and there for long did they compare notes and look overeach other's collections.
Delia had been on the point of selling hers--everything was consideredin the light of an asset at Siege House--and had only refrained byreason of the inadequacy of the offers made. Now she rejoiced that shehad not since it constituted the peg whereon hung the initiation of thisacquaintance. Yet she wished she had thought of weeding it a little,for some of the specimens, looked at in recent lights, struck her astawdry and vulgar. Yvonne's collection, on the other hand, seemed torepresent every town, village, cathedral, and picturesque spot inEurope, with famed works of art and a sprinkling of celebrities.
"Why, what's this?" cried Delia as several loose cards fluttered out ofthe books. "It's yourself!"
"Yes. Father had it done to send to people as a Christmas card."
"But you must let me have one of these. Why, they are charmingportraits. Do! Will you?"
"Certainly, if you care about it. Shall I post it to you?"
"Not for the world. They'd stamp it all over, perhaps right across theface."
"Ah--ah!" mischievously. "Now you see why I don't like them through thepost. All these places are like portraits to me; they remind me of goodtimes."
"They must indeed," said the other, thinking under what glowingcircumstances this happy child's life had been passed.
"Here's one of Poogie. I had that done. Would you like it too? Comehere, Poogie, and strike the same attitude, and let's see if it's good."
"I should rather think I would like it," answered Delia, who wasstroking the beautiful little creature. And so the afternoon fled, forone of them only too quickly; and presently Haldane joined them, smokinga pipe, and they strolled about a little till it was time for theinevitable tea, and soon after for a homeward move.
"You must come and see us again, Miss Calmour, if you have not found ittoo slow," Haldane said as they exchanged farewells.
br /> "Slow! Why, Mr Haldane, I have never enjoyed myself so much in mylife."
"I'm so glad," Yvonne interposed in her frank, sunny way. Then they hadparted.
"She seems a nice, pleasant, straightforward sort of girl, with nononsense about her," was Haldane's comment as they strolled back fromthe gate. "Pity she comes of that rotten brood. I wouldn't have one ofthe others inside my door on any account. But I've always stood outagainst holding the individual responsible for the defects of itsrelatives, and here, I fancy, is a case in point. Let's go and try fora trout, Sunbeam."
Their late guest, speeding along in the sweet June sunshine was goingover the day's events in her mind, and into the same there shot a suddenidea. If only she could be wanted as "companion" for Yvonne. She hadheld a post of the kind before, and had found it, not through her ownfault, intolerable. But here it would be like Paradise, such was thespell this sunny child-woman, with the pretty little foreign wayscontracted during a large Continental experience, had woven upon her.It needed Clytie to point out to her that a hale, middle-aged man suchas Haldane, if in want of that functionary at all, must perforce employa very Gorgon, which, of course, he could never dream of doing; and hermusings kept her so busy that she nearly dropped off her bicycle in thestart she gave on finding herself almost face to face with Wagram.
He was advancing towards her, evidently making for a gate that led intothe ride of a wood. He had a rabbit rifle in his hand, the same weaponthat had figured in the adventure. She was on her feet in a moment.
"Oh, Mr Wagram, how good of you!" she began in her impulsive way."Clytie has just had two orders--both through your recommendation."
"I am always pleased to be of use to anybody when it is within mypower."
What was this? Had the very heavens fallen? His tone was icy. He hadjust formally touched her outstretched hand--no more than the barestcourtesy demanded.
"It was very, very good of you all the same," she pursued lamely.
"Pray don't mention it," he replied, lifting his hat with a movement asthough to resume his way, which she could not ignore.
She remounted her bicycle, and well, indeed, was it for her that theroad was clear, as she whirled along mechanically with pale face andchoking a sob in her throat. What did it mean? What had she done?What could she have done? The god at whose shrine she worshipped wasdispleased--sorely and grievously displeased. Yet why, why? To thisshe could find no answer--no, none.
And the sunshine had gone out of the day.