‘You are an old-fashioned Lily,’ said her cousin, ‘and happily not concerned with popularity. It is a fine thing to be able to consult one’s children’s absolute best.’
The performance went off beautifully—at least so thought both actors and spectators. The dignity of the Bailli and the meddling of the drummer were alike delightful; Fly was charmingly arch and mutinous; Mysie very straightforward; and the least successful personation was that of Gillian, who had a fit of stage-fright, forgot sentences, and whirred her spinning-wheel nervously, all the worse for being scolded by her brothers behind the scenes, and assured that she was making a mull of the whole affair. And she had been so spirited at the rehearsals, but she was at a self-conscious age, and could not forget the four spectators. Very little was required of Dolores, but that little she did simply and well, and Lord Rotherwood, after watching her all the evening, observed to Lady Merrifield, ‘I should say your difficulties were diminishing, are they not? The thunder-cloud seems to be a little lightened.’
‘I am so glad you think so, Rotherwood. I feel sure that all this distress has drawn her nearer to us, only Regie won’t believe it.’
‘Regie is prejudiced.’
‘Is he? I thought him specially fond of Maurice’s child, and that this was revulsion of feeling; but what I am afraid of is, that he will never believe in her or like her again, whatever she may be, and she is really fond of him.’
‘Yes, Reginald is not over disposed to believe in any woman’s truth—outside his own family and sisters. Poor fellow! I can’t say he was well used.’
‘What? I suppose he has bad his romance like other people—his little episode, as my husband calls it.’
‘Yes; and I am afraid we were accountable for it. You remember we were at Harthope Castle for the first two years after I was married, while Rotherwood was brought up to the requirements of the Victorian age.
The —th was quartered at Harfield, within easy distance, and a splendid looking fellow like Regie was invaluable to Victoria, whenever she wanted anything to go off well. Well, in those days I had a ward, my mother’s great niece, Maude Conway. A pretty winsome creature it was, and an heiress in a moderate sort of way, and poor old Redge, after all his little affairs, and he had had his share of them, was evidently in for it at last. Victoria thought, as well as myself, it was the best thing for them both. He was the sound-hearted, good fellow to keep her matters straight, and she had enough for comfort without overweighting the balance. So they were engaged but unluckily they had to wait till she was of age, about eight months off, and they were both ridiculously shy, and would not have the thing known, though Victoria said it was unwise. I don’t think even Jane suspected it.’
‘No; I don’t think she could have done so.’