"'Oh, but he must stay,' I answered".
"Gordon, please go at once," said his wife.
My hands were released, the blue eyes of Major Grayson looked full into mine. Certainly father's eyes were the most wonderful in all the world. They seemed to me to hold within their depths a mixture of every sort of emotion, of fun, of reluctant, half ashamed, half pleased, half boyish penitence, of sorrow, of a pathos which was always there and always half hidden, and also of a queer and indescribable nobility, which, notwithstanding the fact that I had not seen him for years, and notwithstanding the other fact that he had married a worldly woman when he might have made me so happy, seemed to have grown and strengthened on his face. He kissed one of his hands to me, raised Lady Helen's jewelled hand to his lips, bowed to her, smiled, and departed.
"He has charming manners," she said, and then she turned to me.
"Bring me food, child," she said; "I want you to wait on me to-day; I am tired; we had a very rough crossing. To-morrow I shall take you in hand, but you are tremendously improved already. Yes, your father has delightful manners—we shall win through yet; but it will be a battle."
"What do you mean by 'winning through'?" I asked.
"Nothing that you need interfere about," she answered, a little sharply; "only listen to me once for all. I am not Lady Helen Dalrymple for nothing, and when I stoop to conquer I do conquer. Now then, fetch me the cake basket; I am ravenously hungry and have a passion for chocolate."
I gave her what she required, and she ate without looking at me, her sharp eyes wandering round and round the room.
"Why, how hideous!" she suddenly exclaimed. "How more than wrong of Clarkson! I gave orders that the curtains in this room were to be rose-pink; those dull blue abominations must come down; we won't have them—they'd try anyone's complexion. Child, for goodness' sake don't stare! And yet, come and let me look at you. That blue dress suits you; but then you are young, and you have a complexion for blue."
She patted my hand for a minute, then she yawned profoundly.
"I am glad to be home," she said. "A honeymoon when you are no longer young is fatiguing, to say the least of it, and I am sick of hotel life. I have already sent out my 'At Home' invitations, and for the next few days the house will be crammed every afternoon. You will have to be present—why, of course, you will—don't knit your brows together like that. I mean to be a good stepmother to you, Heather. Ah, here comes Gordon. Gordon, you look very presentable now. Sit close to me on this sofa, and let Heather give you some tea. It's nice to have one's own girl to wait on one, isn't it?"
"Profoundly nice," said the Major; "exquisitely nice. To think that we have a child of our very own, Helen!"
"I don't think about it," replied Lady Helen. "It isn't my custom to wear myself out going into raptures, but, Gordon, I am very seriously displeased about those curtains."
"Curtains, dear—what ails them? I see nothing wrong in them."
"But I do. I told Clarkson's people rose-colour, soft rose-colour, and they sent blue—I will never get anything at Clarkson's again."
"They must be changed, sweetest one," replied my father.
I was giving him a cup of tea just then, and my hand shook. My stepmother noticed this; she said, in a sharp voice:
"Heather, get me a fan; that fire will spoil my complexion."
I fetched her one. She held it between herself and the fire.
"By the way, Gordon," she said suddenly, "we had better tell the child now."
"Oh, what?" I asked in some astonishment and also alarm.
"Really, Heather, you need not give way to such undue excitement. A year of my training will completely change you. I only wished to mention the fact that your name is no longer Grayson; in future you are Heather Dalrymple. Your father and I have agreed that you both take my name; that is a thing often done when there is a question of money. I hold the purse strings. I am a very generous person as regards money; Major, dear, you can testify to that."
"I can, Helen. There never was your like, you are wonderful."
"You therefore are little Heather Dalrymple in future," continued my stepmother, "and your father and I are Major and Lady Helen Dalrymple. It's done, child, it's settled; the lawyers have arranged it all. Grayson is a frightful name; you ought to be truly thankful that it is in my power to change it for you. You need not even wait for your marriage; the change takes place at once."
"But I prefer my own name," I answered. "I don't want to have your name. Father, please speak—father, I am not Heather Dalrymple!"
"Oh, make no fuss about it, child," replied my father. "I have long ago come to the wise conclusion that nothing wears one out like making a fuss. Now, my dear, good, sweet, little Heather, I grieve to have to tell you that your disposition promises to land you in old age before your time. You fuss about everything. You fussed yourself almost into your grave when I was obliged to leave you with Penelope Despard, and yet how good poor old Pen was to you all the time! And then you were very impolite to your new mother when you heard that I was about to be married."
"Oh, I am willing to forget and forgive all that," said Lady Helen. "The child was young and taken by surprise. We enter to-day a new world. I do my best for her; she must do her best for me. If you are a good girl, Heather, you will see what a happy life you will have as my daughter."
"Please, please, father," I said, suddenly, "may I have Anastasia to be my maid? There is a girl upstairs who calls herself Morris, and she says she is my maid, but I really do want Anastasia back."
"Ask her ladyship, and do it in a pretty way," said my father, and he gave my hand a playful pinch.
"And this carpet," muttered Lady Helen. "I particularly said that the carpet was to be of a pale green, that sort of very soft green which sets off everything, and it is—goodness gracious!—it is a sort of pale blue, not even the tone of the curtains. How atrocious! Yes, Heather, yes—what is it?"
"I do want to ask you, please," I said, "if Anastasia may come back?"
"Anastasia?" said Lady Helen. "I have never heard of her. Who is she?"
"She used to be my nurse when I was in India, and she sailed with father and me in the good ship Pleiades. Oh, father! don't you remember the charm you gave me, and how we talked of gentle gales and prosperous winds? And, father, here's the charm, the dear old charm!"
"When you talk to me," said Lady Helen, "you will have the goodness to look at me. You want the woman—what did you say her name was?"
"Anastasia. It's quite a nice name," I answered. "I want her to be my maid instead of Morris."
"To be your maid?"
"Please, please, Lady Helen."
"Can she sew? Can she make blouses? Can she arrange hair fashionably? Can she put on your dress as it ought to be put on? I may as well say at once that I don't intend to take a pale, gawky girl about with me. You must look nice, as you can and will, if you have a proper maid, and I attend to your clothes. Can she alter your dresses when they get a little outré? In short, is the woman a lady's maid at all?"
"She used to be my nurse, and I love her," I answered stoutly.
"I cannot possibly have her back. Don't speak of it again. And now, Heather, I have something else to say. When you address me you are not to call me 'Lady Helen,' you are to say 'Mother.' The fact is, I can't stand sentimental nonsense. Your own mother has been in her grave for many years. If I am to act as a mother to you, I intend to have the title. Now say the word; say this—say, 'Please, mother, may I go upstairs to my private sitting-room, and may I leave you and father alone together?' Say the words, Heather."
I turned very cold, and I have no doubt my face was white.
"Yes, Heather, say the words," cried father.
His blue eyes were extremely bright, and there was a spot of vivid colour on both his cheeks. He looked at me with such a world of longing, such an expression of almost fear, that for his sake I gave in.
"I will do what you wish for my father's sake," I said, slowly. "I am not your child, and you are not my mother. My mother is in her grave, and when she lived her name was Grayson, not Dalrymple; but if it makes father happy for me to say 'mother,' I will say it."
"It makes me most oppressively happy, my little Heather," cried my father.
"Then I will do it for you, Daddy," I said.
Lady Helen frowned at me. I went slowly out of the room.