CHAPTER XXVI.
HOW SOME OLD FRIENDS REAPPEAR AGAIN; AND HOW SOME NEWS IS TOLD; AND HOW MAURICE MAKES ANOTHER EFFORT TO WIN HIS CASE.
"Just been to see her," says Mr. Gower, who has selected the snuggest chair in Margaret's drawing-room, and is now holding forth from its cushioned depths with a radiant smile upon his brow. "She's staying with the Tennants. They always had a hankering after Mrs. Bethune."
"Fancy Marian's being with anyone when Tessie is in town!" says Margaret. "Captain Marryatt, that is a wretchedly uncomfortable chair. Come and sit here."
"Oh, thanks! I'm all right," says Marryatt, who would have died rather than give up his present seat. It has a full command of the door. It is plain, indeed, to all present that he is expecting someone, and that someone Mrs. Chichester—his mistaken, if honest, infatuation for that lean young woman being still as ardent as of yore.
Minnie Hescott, who is talking to Tita, conceals a smile behind her fan.
"What! haven't you heard about her and Marian?" asks Gower, leaning towards his hostess. "Why, you must be out of the swim altogether not to have heard that. There's a split there. A regular cucumber coldness! They don't speak now."
"An exaggeration, surely," says Margaret. "I saw lady Rylton yesterday and—— How d'ye do, colonel Neilson?"
There is the faintest blush on Margaret's cheek as she rises to receive her warrior.
"I hardly expected you to-day; I thought you were going down to
Twickenham."
"What an awful story!" says Gower, letting her hear his whisper under pretence of picking up her handkerchief.
"Monday will do for that," says Neilson. "But Monday might not do for you. I decided not to risk the Sunday. By-the-bye, I have something to say to you, presently, if you can spare me a moment."
"Certainly," says Margaret, whereon the Colonel moves away to talk to someone else.
"Same old game, I suppose," suggests Gower, in a sweetly confidential tone, when he has gone. "Find it a little slow, don't you, knowing exactly what he's going to say to you, presently, when you have spared him a moment?"
"I really don't know," says Margaret, bringing a dignified eye to bear upon him.
"No? Then you ought. It isn't that you haven't had opportunities enough. Time has not been denied you. But as you say you don't know, I think it my duty to prepare you; to——"
"Really, Randal, I don't wish to know anything. I dare say Colonel
Neilson is quite capable of——"
"He appears to me," severely, "to be thoroughly in-capable. He ought to have impressed it upon your brain in half the time he's taken to do it. It is quite a little speech, and only firmness was required to make you remember it. This is it——"
"I don't wish to hear anything," says Margaret with suspicious haste.
"But I wish you to hear it. I think it bad to have things sprung upon one unawares. Now listen. 'For the nine hundred and ninetieth time, my beloved Margaret, I implore you on my bended knees to make me a happy man!' You remember it now?"
"No, indeed; I never heard such an absurd speech in my life."
"That's the second story you've told to-day," says Mr. Gower, regarding her with gentle sorrow.
"Oh, don't be stupid!" says Margaret. "Tell me what I want to know; about Marian. I am sorry if there really has occurred a breach between her and my aunt."
"There is little doubt about that! What a born orator is a woman!" says Mr. Gower, with deep enthusiasm. "Not one woman, mind you, but every woman. What command of language is theirs! I assure you if Mr. Goldstone had heard Mrs. Bethune on the subject of the Dowager Lady Rylton to-day, he would have given her a place in the Cabinet upon the spot. She would carry all before her in the House of Commons; we should have Home Rule for Ireland in twenty-four hours."
"Perhaps she wouldn't have voted for it," says Margaret, laughing.
"You bet!" says Mr. Gower. "Any way, there's a row on between her and Lady Rylton. The hatchet that has been buried for so long is dug up again, and it is now war to the knife between them."
"But what is to become of Marian?" asks Margaret anxiously, whose kind heart bleeds for all sad souls.
"She's going to marry a Russian. A nobody—but lots of money. Best thing she could do, too," says Gower, speaking the last words hurriedly, as he sees the door open and Margaret rise to receive her new visitor.
The fresh arrival is Mrs. Chichester, exquisitely arrayed in a summery costume of apple-green. It suits her eyes, which are greener than ever to-day, and sparkling. Her whole air, indeed, is full of delightful vivacity. There is a verve, a brightness, about her that communicates itself to her audience. She looks taller, thinner than usual.
"Such news!" cries she, in her clear, sharp voice. "Jack is coming home next month!"
"Jack?" questions Margaret.
"Yes, Jack. Jack Chichester—my husband, don't you know?"
At this a stricken silence falls upon her listeners. They all try to look as if they had been accustomed to think of Jack Chichester as an old and bosom friend. They also try (and this is even harder) not to look at Marryatt. As for him, he has forgotten that there is anyone to look at him. His foolish, boyish eyes are fixed on Mrs. Chichester.
"Yes, really," goes on that somewhat flighty young person. "No wonder you are all surprised. He has been so long away that I expect you thought he wasn't anywhere. I did almost. Well, he's coming now, any way, and that's a blessing. You'll all like him, I can tell you."
There is a ring of genuine feeling in her tone, not to be mistaken. She is glad at the thought of her husband's return. Marryatt, recognising that ring, sinks into a chair with a groan. Oh, heavens! How he has pranced after that woman for fully twelve months, dancing attendance upon her, fulfilling her commands, and all the time her heart was filled with the face of this abominable Jack!
Presently, on the first moment, indeed, when he can do so with any decency, he leaves Miss Knollys' house a sadder, and most decidedly a wiser, man!
"Am I to sympathize with you?" asks Gower, in a low, expressive voice, as Mrs. Chichester sweeps towards him.
She laughs.
"Pouf!" says she, making light of his little impertinence. "You're out of it altogether. Why, I'm glad he's coming home. You've mistaken me."
"I knew it. I felt it all along," cries Gower enthusiastically. "It is you who have mistaken me. When I mentioned the word 'sympathy'—ah!" rapturously, "that was sympathy with your joy!"
"Was it? You ought to do it again," says Mrs. Chichester; "and before the glass next time. Practise it. However, I'm too happy to give you the lesson you deserve. I can tell you Jack isn't half bad. I like him better, any way, than any man I ever met in my life, and that's saying a lot. Of course," candidly, "I doubt if I could ever like any man as well as myself; but I confess I run it very close with Jack."
"Naturally. 'We all love Jack,'" quotes Mr. Gower in a sort of ecstasy.
"But for all that, I must have my little fling sometimes," says Jack's wife, with a delightful smile, that makes her look thinner than ever.
"Quite so," says Gower.
They both laugh—a good healthy laugh; and, indeed, the vulgar expression coming from her does not sound so bad as it might. There are some people who, when they say a queer thing, set one's teeth on edge; and there are others who, when they use the same words, raise only a smile. As yet, there is much injustice in the world.
Margaret is standing in a distant window, talking in an undertone to Colonel Neilson, and Gower is now teasing Minnie Hescott, when once again the door is thrown open and Sir Maurice comes in.
"Another surprise packet!" says Gower faintly. "Miss Hescott, you know everything. _Are _there more to come? I'm not strong; my heart is in a bad state. Pray, pray give me a gentle word of warning if——"
"Isn't he looking well!" says Minnie excitedly.
Sir Maurice is indeed looking very handsome as he comes up the room. It brings a mutual smile to Margaret and Colonel Neilson's lips as they note the extreme care with which he has got himself up for the visit to—his wife!
He is holding his head very high, and the flower in his button-hole
has evidently been chosen with great care. He shakes hands with
Margaret first, of course, and with Tita last. She is sitting near
Mrs. Chichester, and she gives him her hand without looking at him.
She has grown a little white.
And then presently they all fade away: Captain Marryatt first, as has been said, and Mrs. Chichester last, still saying absurd things about the return of her "Jack"—absurd, but undoubtedly sincere. "That's what made them so funny," said Gower afterwards. And now Margaret makes a little excuse and goes too, but not before she has asked Maurice to stay to dinner.
"Oh, thank you!" says Rylton, and then hesitates; but after a glance at Tita's face, most reluctantly, and a little hopelessly, as it seems to Margaret, declares he has a previous engagement.
"Another night, then," says Margaret kindly, and closes the door behind her.