A CHANGE OF OPINION.
Among the guests expected at Mr. Drummond's table on that memorable occasion was a gentleman of great note in the scientific world, to whom Mr. Armstrong had been very anxious to be introduced. Indeed, this wish had influenced him greatly in his ready acceptance of the invitation.
"My friend Professor Logan will dine with us on that evening," had been Mr. Drummond's remark to Mr. Armstrong. "I suppose you have read his address at the Royal Society on the inventions of the last thirty years? It was correctly reported in the Times."
"Yes, indeed, and there I saw it," was the eager reply. "Is Professor Logan your friend, Drummond? It will be a great privilege to meet such a man."
"And he will be equally pleased with you," was the reply; "indeed, I expect it will be quite a learned gathering, for I have asked three or four other men of education to join us, and I almost fear the evening will be dull for Mrs. Armstrong and your bright, lively daughter; but Mrs. Drummond will be terribly disappointed if they do not come, and she will make the evening as pleasant as possible for them. My nieces are very musical, and——"
"Oh, pray do not make the invitation more attractive than it is already," interrupted Mr. Armstrong. "My daughter's tastes resemble my own, and she has had advantages of education which I have not. I'm afraid, Drummond, your friends will expect too much from a self-taught man like myself if you have, as you say, placed me on the list of your 'learned' acquaintance."
"Nonsense, Armstrong!" was the reply, as the omnibus stopped for that gentleman to alight. "Mind," he added, as he waved his hand in farewell, "we shall expect you all on Tuesday."
Mr. Armstrong's close carriage arrived at Argyle Lodge only five minutes before the hour appointed for dinner. In a very short time, therefore, Mary found herself being conducted to the dinner-table by a gentleman whose face seemed familiar to her, but whose name, when spoken by her hostess, she had not caught.
"I think I have had the pleasure of meeting Miss Armstrong once before, when she brought her little brother to school," was the remark which made Mary turn and look at her companion.
There was a smile on the face she had called plain, but it did not now deserve such an epithet. The rough, dark hair, which in its disorder she had likened to a "pussy-cat's tail in a rage," was now arranged in shining wavy curls across the broad forehead; the dark eyebrows almost meeting over the nose gave character to the face, and a look in the deep blue eyes, although Mary Armstrong had quickly recognised her companion as Henry Halford, made her ask herself if she had really ever seen them before. So changed was the face, so expressive the glance, so winning the smile, that Mary could only stammer out with a blushing face—
"I beg your pardon, Mr. Halford; I did not at first recognise you, but I do now."
They entered the dining-room as she said this, and during the slight commotion occasioned by placing every one with due regard to the varied requirements which make the position of a hostess so difficult, Mary could only recall with shame and wonder her satirical description of Henry Halford.
The silence that generally pervades the company at the commencement of dinner enabled Mary to recover herself and look round for the home faces.
Her mother, who had been taken into dinner by Mr. Drummond, was seated nearly opposite to her at his right hand. At the moment of this discovery she observed her bow to some one on Mary's side of the table. Her surprise at this caused her to lean forward slightly. What friend of her mother's could be dining with Mr. Drummond?
A gentleman with white hair, and a pale, handsome face, was returning the recognition. Mary was fairly puzzled, but she had conquered the confusion caused by Mr. Henry Halford's unexpected appearance, and when the conversation became general she could talk to her companion with ease and intelligence.
Mary could hear her father's voice, but she could not see him, as he sat at the same side of the table as herself by Mrs. Drummond.
Presently Henry Halford spoke.
"Are you acquainted with that gentleman at the head of the table on Mrs. Drummond's left hand?" he asked, under cover of many voices.
Mary shook her head. She had observed that he and her father were already in earnest conversation across the table, but he was a total stranger to her.
"No, I am not," she replied; "all here are strangers to me, excepting Mr. and Mrs. Drummond and my own parents."
"Then you do not know my father, to whom your mamma bowed just now. I saw you lean forward to discover who had been so honoured by Mrs. Armstrong's notice."
"Is that gentleman your father, Mr. Halford?" said Mary, simply. "I think he is a very handsome old man; that silvery white hair always looks to me beautiful when accompanied with dark eyebrows and eyes."
"My father would feel extremely flattered if he heard your opinion of him, Miss Armstrong," said Henry Halford.
"I am not flattering," replied Mary, "I am only giving my opinion, and you have not told me the name of that gentleman opposite. He looks clever."
"Why, really, Miss Armstrong, I shall begin to be afraid of your opinion about myself if you are so quick at reading character. That gentleman is Professor Logan, whose address at the Royal Society has made such a stir in the scientific world."
"Oh, I am so glad to meet him!" she exclaimed. "I know he must be clever because papa is talking to him so earnestly, and I read his address at the Royal Society in the Times."
"Did you, indeed, Miss Armstrong?" said Henry, in a tone of surprise.
"Certainly I did, and with very great interest. Is there anything very wonderful in that, Mr. Halford?"
Henry Halford hesitated to reply; he looked earnestly at the young lady who could read an address on the most abstruse sciences with "great interest." He had heard young ladies spoken of rather contemptibly as "pedants" and "blue-stockings." Was this gentle, simple-speaking girl by his side one of these? Or if not, did she belong to the frivolous, half-educated young ladies, who think of nothing but dress, or lovers, or husbands in futuro? Although Mary had spoken of him as unused to ladies' society with some truth, yet he had seen and heard enough to judge of them as belonging to a sex inferior in strength both mentally and physically, and in those days of which we write his judgment was not far wrong.
"I will put a few questions to this young lady who expresses her interest in abstruse subjects," he said to himself. "Perhaps after all it is merely a smattering of knowledge which she possesses, and a wish to be thought a 'blue.' Are you fond of scientific subjects, Miss Armstrong?" he asked, with something akin to satire in the tone of his voice.
But Mary Armstrong did not detect it; she replied unaffectedly—
"I think I am, at least so far as I can understand them, and that is not to a very great extent; but arithmetic is a science, is it not? and I am very fond of that; and I like the study of thorough-bass quite as well as the practical part of music."
"I am rather surprised to hear a young lady say she is fond of arithmetic," replied Henry Halford, rather amused, and doubtful still. "How far have you penetrated into the mysteries of calculation?—to Practice, perhaps?"
Mary now detected a shadow of satire.
"A little beyond Practice," she replied, with a smile. "I begin to feel afraid to tell you how far, you appear so surprised that a girl should learn boys' studies, but my father wished me to do so."
Henry Halford flushed deeply. The straightforward simplicity of the young lady whom he wished to prove a pedant or a "blue" baffled him, and made him feel ashamed of his satire.
"I beg your pardon, Miss Armstrong," he said. "It is such an unusual thing in the present day to meet with young ladies who really care for any studies beyond music and singing, and what are called the fine arts, that I was a little incredulous; pray show me I am forgiven by telling me what advance you have made in these studies, which you consider belong to boys."
There was an earnestness and sincerity in the young man's voice which could not be mistaken.
Mary replied candidly, but without the slightest appearance of ostentation—
"Mr. Halford, papa himself taught me algebra after I had studied every rule in arithmetic, and the first book of Euclid. That is the extent of my knowledge—nothing so very wonderful, after all."
"And the pons asinorum, Miss Armstrong?"
"Yes," she replied, "even the pons asinorum."
There was a look of respect, mingled with surprise, on Henry Halford's face; for once he had met with a young lady who had evidently some pretensions to mental strength without being proud of it.
By degrees he managed to discover that, owing to her father's wise decision, she had not been allowed to learn music without studying thorough-bass, or drawing unless accompanied with the study of perspective. But as, without asking direct questions, he contrived to draw her out by adopting a conversational tone, he found to his delight that this scientific young lady was far more deeply interested in poetry and literature.
Mrs. Armstrong watched the fair face of her daughter as it lighted up with pleasure at the poetical remarks of her companion, who criticised her favourite authors with so much clearness and justice.
She was not sorry when Mrs. Drummond gave the signal for leaving the table. She could read in the gentleman a growing interest and admiration of her daughter, which made her uneasy; not a little increased by a remark of Mr. Drummond's—
"Mr. Henry Halford and your daughter are getting on famously together. I know that her education has been solid as well as accomplished, and he appears to have found out that fact."
"Is that Dr. Halford's son?" asked Mrs. Armstrong; she remembered her daughter's description of him as plain, but the young man so earnestly conversing with Mary on a favourite topic was as usual giving to that face the flashings of intellect, the expressive smile, and, it must be owned, a too evident admiration of the fair girl by his side, which made him unmistakably handsome.
"Yes; did you not know it?" was Mr. Drummond's reply. "And a really clever fellow he is too; he has lately matriculated at Oxford. His father wishes him to be a clergyman, and I have no doubt he will come off with 'flying colours.'"
No wonder Mrs. Armstrong was relieved when the signal came to remove her daughter from such dangerous company.
But Mary very soon restored her mother's peace of mind by the absence of all consciousness when she referred to Mr. Henry Halford.
On entering the drawing-room the mother noticed with anxiety the deep flush that so generally made Mary's face too brilliant. She watched her as she wandered alone to a distant table and took up a book, after examining several, and seated herself to read. She walked over to her and said, "You are interested in your book, Mary."
"Yes, mamma; Mr. Henry Halford has been talking about Milton's 'Paradise Lost,' and he has explained to me a great deal of those learned terms and classical references which make some pages of the book so difficult to understand, and I mean to read it through again; you know how fond I am of Milton."
"Yes, dear," said her mother, "but you cannot do so now in Mrs. Drummond's drawing-room."
"No, mamma, of course not; I was only glancing over a few pages to try how much I could remember of Mr. Henry Halford's explanations. Oh, mamma, you cannot imagine how clever he is."
"No doubt, and I hear he is at Oxford studying for the Church. But, Mary, do you remember your description of Dr. Halford's son? In my opinion he is anything but plain, and his hair——"
"Oh, mamma, pray don't refer to what I once said;" and Mrs. Armstrong knew that the flush on Mary's cheek as she spoke arose from shame at her foolish words, nothing more. "I hardly looked at him that morning, but now that I have heard him speak with so much animation and cleverness I consider Mr. Henry Halford handsome; don't you, mamma?"
This simple admission satisfied the anxious mother; she agreed readily with her daughter's remark, and a servant advancing with tea and coffee put a stop to the conversation.
Presently the gentlemen made their appearance.
Mary noticed that her father and Mr. Henry Halford were eagerly discussing scientific subjects with Professor Logan as they entered.
Even as they stood with a cup of coffee in the hand of each, the subject was being carried on with great earnestness.
At last one of Mr. Drummond's nieces approached the piano, at her aunt's request, and struck a few chords.
A sudden pause, and then the rich tones of the singer hushed the scientific controversy. Even those who had no natural appreciation of harmonious sounds were attracted to listen; among these ranked Henry Halford.
To a singer with less confidence the silence would have been fatal, but Edith Longford was not likely to fail from nervousness, and there is nothing so calculated to steady the nerves of a performer in any subject as a perfect knowledge of what he is about.
As the soft melodious tones ceased, Henry Halford contrived to whisper to Miss Armstrong a question, intended to try whether the young girl, whose conversation had so interested him at dinner, could bear the praise of another without jealousy.
During the song he had not been able to resist the attraction of her presence. Although really occupied with the subject of dispute as he entered the room, Henry Halford's quick eye discovered at once the whereabouts of Mr. Armstrong's daughter, and he had gradually moved towards the table where she sat.
"Miss Longford plays and sings well, Miss Armstrong," were the words that made Mary start from a reverie. "I am quite ignorant of music theoretically, and I have no natural taste for the harmonies; but you can tell me whether my opinion is a correct one."
"I, Mr. Halford!" said Mary, recovering herself; "Miss Longford is far beyond me in music. I could not take the liberty of forming a judgment upon her, excepting that I know she sings and plays far better than I do."
"Generous and candid," said the young man to himself as a gentleman advanced to lead Mary to the piano. He followed them, and stood listening with surprise to the simple English ballad which Mary sang with real taste and feeling.
Henry Halford when alone in his room that night made a decision in his own mind on certain points; in some of these, had he remained firm and unshaken, our story would have ended here.
"Mary Armstrong is a very beautiful girl," were his first mental words, "full of intellectual knowledge, far beyond any young lady I have ever met. She is candid, plain-speaking, impervious to flattery, and generous to a rival—at least if Miss Longford is a rival. For my part, I consider Miss Armstrong's music far more pleasing. And then what a talented man her father is! no wonder, with such a teacher, his daughter should be so different from other girls. I have met many girls, but none like Miss Armstrong."
By a strange association of ideas, to which we are all subject, Easter and Oxford presented themselves to his mind, and the involuntary sigh that followed a recollection of the fact that in less than a week he should be miles away from Mary Armstrong, changed the whole current of his thoughts.
"How absurdly I am allowing my mind to dwell upon this young lady!" he said to himself. "A man so rich as her father will of course wish her to marry a man of wealth, and one equal in position to her mother's relations. I might lay claim to the latter qualification, but what shall I be at the end of my three years at Oxford? an usher in my father's school, or a curate with an income of perhaps 100l. a year or less. I will think of her no more!"