There are few things more flattering to a youth at the doubtful age at which I was, than to be treated as a man by a handsome girl. Helen Stanley never once in any way indicated that she thought me “young,” or anything but a man. I was “Mr Shepard” to her, and whether she meant to flatter me, or whether it was merely the natural agreeableness of her manner, I cannot say, but she had the knack of causing me to think better of myself than I had formerly done. She reminded me how quickly and successfully I had prepared for the Academy, and she compared my success with the failures of some other candidates for Woolwich whom she had known. More than once she had said how she envied me for being a man with such a splendid career before me in the army, either in the Artillery or Engineers, and that she was certain I should distinguish myself in the future.
It is not in the nature of man, especially of a very young one, or of woman either, to reason or criticise very closely the truth or foundation of flattery. We stretch many points to make us ready to believe there are grounds for what is said. I had been so unjustly abused by Snipson when his neux, that the conceit had been too much taken out of me, and I had lost too much of that self-possession which we all ought to possess in order to make way in the world. The flattery of Miss Stanley, therefore, came on me with all the charm of novelty, and as I thought over what she had said, I felt bound to acknowledge that praise was due to me for the manner in which I had passed through my hard trials at Hostler’s, had succeeded at my examinations, and stood the bullying of my first half-year at the Academy. Any way, it was most agreeable to be in the society of a young lady who seemed to think I deserved to be praised and commended for what I had done.
The first few days of my visit at the Heronry passed like a dream. I was as happy as a bird, but was fast drifting into love with Helen. She, however, seemed a very wise young lady, who could talk with me, sing with me, flirt with me, but apparently not be in love with me. I had myself made all sorts of desperate resolves. I should get my commission, distinguish myself in some way, and then propose for Helen. The details of our future life I had not worked out, nor did I consider that I had not calculated the future beyond the period at which I should be twenty-one. Although the time passed rapidly and agreeably, yet I knew I had learnt much in the first three days I was at the Heronry. I had begun a new study, etc, the investigation of the peculiarities and inconsistencies of the feminine mind.
At breakfast, on the fourth morning of my visit, Helen Stanley announced to the General that Charles would arrive that afternoon. I looked up surprised at this remark, for I had never heard of a “Charles,” and did not know whom he was. Seeing my look of curiosity, Miss Stanley said, “Charles is my cousin. He is at Oxford, and is coming here for a few days. He is very clever, I hear; so you two will get on well together, I hope.”
I instantly felt certain that cousin Charles and I should not get on well together, and I was most anxious to discover, if possible, whether there was any other relationship between Helen and cousin Charles besides that of cousinship. Miss Stanley, however, gave me no clue, and seemed to avoid being alone with me during the morning, so that I had no opportunity of learning anything except that cousin Charles was at Oxford and very clever.
At the expected time cousin Charles, whose surname I ascertained was also Stanley, arrived at the Heronry. I saw him get out of the vehicle he had driven in, and approach the house. From the experience I had gained of men during the past two years I could judge tolerably well of what a young man was by his appearance, and the instant I saw Charles Stanley I concluded that he was “a conceited prig.” I entered the drawing-room soon after his arrival, and was introduced to him as Gentleman Cadet Shepard. Stanley nearly closed his eyes as he looked at me for half a minute, and then held out two fingers to me to shake. I just touched his hand and then turned towards the window and looked out on the view, whilst I was estimating in my own mind the value and worthlessness of Mr Charles Stanley.
It was soon evident to me that Stanley was on very intimate terms with his cousin Helen, also that he admired her very much. I also became conscious that he was not favourably impressed with me, and I made up my mind that we should certainly not get on well during our visit.
At dinner that evening Stanley fired his first shot at me, and it certainly hit its mark, for I was made to look very small whilst he aired his knowledge before Helen Stanley.
I happened to mention that I had seen a hawk hovering over the poultry-yard in the afternoon, and I thought it possible that some young chicken might be carried off.
“By hawk,” said Stanley, “do you mean the ‘Tinnunculus alaudarius’ or the ‘Accipiter Nisus’?”