CHAPTER XVIII.
ne evening, in the middle of August, John and Charlie got home before Mr. de Courcy had left. The epidemic among the sheep was nearly over now, and consequently they were not detained so late as they had been for the last month. Both the shepherd and his son were astonished to see this grand French gentleman seated on a little wooden stool at Fairy’s feet, quite at home, and apparently on intimate terms with her and Mrs. Shelley, for they were all three laughing merrily at Mrs. Shelley’s attempts at French when the shepherds arrived.
“Why, here is John! This is my friend, Mr. de Courcy—Mr. de Courcy, this is John, and this is my foster-brother,” said Fairy, inwardly feeling very much ashamed of the latter, who, to her annoyance, only pulled his forelock, and was too shy to say a word.
Rex jumped up, no less astonished at the apparition of these two shepherds in their smock frocks, with their crooks in their hands, than they were at the sight of him, and then, having executed one or two of his French bows, he entered into a conversation with John Shelley about his sheep as easily as he would have discussed art or literature with people in his own rank of life.
And if Fairy felt ashamed of Charlie with his clump shoes, his dirty hands, his Sussex brogue, and his uncouth, clownish manners, she was rather proud than otherwise of John Shelley, who, with his hat in his hand, stood there with a gentle dignity all his own, talking simply of his sheep, with an honest pride in his position as head shepherd of the largest sheep-farmer in the district that was as naive as it was touching.
But as Rex walked back to Oafham that evening it was with a weight on his mind that he saw no chance of removing. Hitherto he had only pictured to himself an ideal pastoral shepherd as Fairy’s foster-father, and though John Shelley might have sat to an artist as a patriarchal shepherd, there was nothing ideal or poetical about Charlie: a more realistic clod-hopping youth it would be hard to meet with, even in the South Downs. And this was Fairy’s foster-brother! Just imagine his mother’s face or Lady Oafham’s if they were introduced to Charlie as the foster-brother of Rex’s future wife. Such a thought was so appalling that it actually prevented Rex from paying his accustomed visit the next day, though he was miserable, and so afraid he might have offended Fairy by his absence, that after a sleepless night and a very impatient morning, he presented himself at the shepherd’s house the next day as usual.
“Why didn’t you come yesterday?” were Fairy’s first words.
“My dear Fairy, we can’t expect Mr. de Courcy to honour us with a visit every day,” said Mrs. Shelley, reprovingly.
“Did you miss me? If I only dared to think you did!” said Rex, in French.
“Never mind that; I want to know why you did not come yesterday. Come, confess my foster-brother frightened you away now, didn’t he?” said Fairy, in the same language.
And Rex, bargaining first for absolution, made a full confession of his fault, and, in spite of Mrs. Shelley’s presence, would have gone on, under cover of a foreign language, to confess his love too, if the arrival of John Shelley had not stopped him. The shepherd looked grave when he saw Mr. de Courcy, but Rex made himself so pleasant and agreeable that the frown vanished from his face, and it was only after Rex had left that he resumed his grave look.
The shepherd was very silent during supper, and Mrs. Shelley was not wrong in her conjecture that there was a marital lecture in store for her when Fairy was gone to bed and they were alone.
“Polly,” said the shepherd, suddenly, as Fairy’s door closed, “how long has this been going on?”
“Has what been going on?” returned Mrs. Shelley, knowing well enough all the while what her husband meant.
“How long have you been deceiving me and allowing that young gentleman to steal my poor little Fairy’s heart?” said John, sternly.
“I never deceived you in my life, John Shelley. How dare you say such a thing?” retorted Mrs. Shelley, warmly.
“Polly, it is no use being angry about it; you have done wrong, and you know it as well as I. From what I saw the other day and to-day it is very clear this gentleman has been coming here pretty often, and you kept it from me, knowing well enough I should have put a stop to it, had I known it, long ago, as I shall do now, though I misdoubt me but the mischief is done already, for I am afraid Fairy has lost her heart.”
“And pray why should you want to put a stop to it? Why should not Fairy marry Mr. de Courcy if they care for each other?” asked Mrs. Shelley, anxious to divert John’s attention from her offence.
“For two excellent reasons. First, we know nothing at all about him; pleasant as he appears, he may be a scamp for aught we know; and in the next place, supposing he is all he appears, it is quite certain neither Lady Oafham nor his own parents would hear of his marrying the foster-child of a poor shepherd.”
“Mr. de Courcy a scamp! I am as certain he is all he seems to be as I am that you are an honest man, and for all we know Fairy may be as well-born as he is; and as for your stopping it, you will have a hard task to do that, I am sure.”
“Hard or not, I shall do it, and at once,” said John, decidedly, and Mrs. Shelley saw he was too vexed to be persuaded not to take the matter in his own hands, and, conscious as she was that he was right and that she had acted foolishly, though she was too proud to acknowledge it, she now thought it wiser to say no more about it, though she was intensely curious to know what he would do.
The next morning, when Fairy came back from the rectory to dinner, which these two generally ate alone, John and Charlie taking theirs with them, for they went as far as five or six miles from home with their flocks, Mrs. Shelley thought it better to warn Fairy of what was in store for her before Mr. de Courcy made his appearance that afternoon, as in the ordinary course of things he was sure to do; so, waiting till Fairy had finished her dinner, lest her news should destroy the girl’s appetite, small enough at all times in Mrs. Shelley’s opinion, she said, “Fairy, John is very angry with me for letting Mr. de Courcy come here so often. He told me of it last night after you were gone to bed, and he has not opened his lips to me since.”
“John angry! Why should he be angry, mother? I thought he liked Mr. de Courcy. Perhaps some more sheep have died, and he is only grieving for them. You have made a mistake; he can’t be angry about me.”
“But he is, though. What is more, he is going to put a stop to Mr. de Courcy coming here.”
“Oh, but mother, he can’t do that. I shall tell Rex—I mean Mr. de Courcy—I wish him to come, and he just won’t pay any attention to John. He will come all the same, I am sure,” said Fairy, not at all alarmed by John’s threat.
“I doubt it, Fairy. You have always done as you liked with John up to now, but now he has taken it into his head it is his duty to stop these visits, he will do it; even you won’t be able to stop him. And if Mr. de Courcy should come this afternoon, you had better tell him John won’t allow him to come to this house, because he is certain his relations would not approve of it if they knew. And, Fairy, take my advice, and tell him to-day, for I am half afraid it will be the last time you will see him.”
“Oh, mother!” exclaimed Fairy, turning so pale that Mrs. Shelley saw at a glance the mischief was done, and that if John put his threat into execution, and she was certain he would, it would go very near to breaking poor little Fairy’s heart, except hearts, in Mrs. Shelley’s opinion, were very hard things and took a deal of breaking.
“Well, well, child, tell Mr. de Courcy, and see what he says, but I am as sure as I am standing here John will keep his word, if he has not done so already.”
“Already! Oh, mother, Rex must come this afternoon; I am certain he would never stop away without telling me, for all the Johns in the world,” said Fairy; but in spite of her words she was terribly afraid lest he should not come, and spent the afternoon till nearly four o’clock, in watching alternately the road and the clock, until, at last, to Mrs. Shelley’s delight no less than Fairy’s, Rex’s step was heard.
It was a fortunate coincidence for Mr. de Courcy and Fairy that Mrs. Shelley, who always spent the afternoon with them, was so occupied, according to her own account, with some work indoors, which could not possibly be postponed, that she had only time to come to the door once or twice and peep out at them. The first time she came they were sitting side by side on the bench. Mr. de Courcy had his back to Mrs. Shelley, but, from the eager way in which he was bending towards Fairy, who was looking on the ground with a happy smile on her bright little face, Mrs. Shelley thought it would be a pity to interrupt them. The next time she looked out, which was half an hour later, the bench was empty, but, looking across the field, she saw the lovers sauntering along arm-in-arm as happily as if the whole world was made for them, and there were no such thing as angry parents or guardians to break in and destroy their happiness.
“Poor young things! I have not the heart to call them back, though I suppose John would say I ought. I’ll let them be; they may as well be happy for one day at any rate; their game is almost played out, I doubt,” said Mrs. Shelley, watching them as they strolled slowly along, regardless of the hot afternoon sun, still high in the heavens.
The next time Mrs. Shelley looked it was past six, and time John and Charlie were in to supper, though neither of them had yet appeared; and when she went to the door to see if they were coming, there was no one to be seen but Fairy leaning on the gate and straining her eyes and waving one of her little hands in the direction of Oafham.
“Fairy, are John and Charlie coming? It is almost supper-time,” called out Mrs. Shelley, who, truth to tell, was not a little curious as to what had passed between Fairy and Mr. de Courcy, a curiosity which was soon to be gratified, for Fairy came running towards her.
“Oh, mother, mother! I am so happy; Rex loves me, and I am going to be his wife some day.”
And as she spoke, Fairy threw herself into Mrs. Shelley’s motherly arms.
(To be continued.)
