Those spring days were very happy both to Ralph and Evereld, while Macneillie who had been anxious as to the little bride’s comfort and well-being, began to feel entirely at rest on that score.
It cheered him not a little to have her bright face and thoughtful housewifely ways making a home out of each temporary resting place. Her great charm was her ready sympathy and a certain restfulness and quietness of temperament very soothing to highly-strung artistic natures. When the two men returned from the theatre, it was delightful to find her comfortably ensconced with her needlework, ready to take keen interest in hearing about everything, and always giving a pleasant welcome to any visitor they might bring back with them. There was nothing fussy about Evereld: she was the ideal wife for a man of Ralph’s eager Keltic temperament.
During July the company dispersed and Ralph and Evereld went to stay with the Magnays in London. It was not until the re-assembling in August that the discomforts of the new life began to become a little more apparent. Perhaps it was the intense heat of the weather, perhaps the contrast between the lodgings in a particularly dirty manufacturing town and the Magnays’ ideal home with all its art treasures, and its dainty half foreign arrangement. Certainly Evereld’s heart sank a little when she began to unpack.
Their bedroom faced the west and the burning sunshine seemed to steep the little room in drowsy almost tropical heat. She felt sick and miserable. Opening the dressing-table drawer she found that her predecessor had left behind some most uninviting hair-curlers, and some greasepaint. Of course to throw these away and re-line the drawer was easy enough; but by the time she had done it and had arranged all their worldly goods and chattels she felt tired out and was glad to lie down, though she did not dare to scrutinise the blankets and could only try to find consolation in the remembrance that the sheets at least were quite immaculate, and the pillow her own. She was roused from a doze by Ralph’s entrance.
“Come and get a little air, darling,” he suggested. “This room is like an oven. Oh! we have got such a fellow in Thornton’s place! the most conceited puppy I ever set eyes on. What induced Macneillie to give him a trial I can’t think, he is quite a novice and though rolling in gold, he has never thought of offering a premium. I never saw a fellow with so much side on. He ought to be kicked!”
“Who is he?” said Evereld laughing, as she put on her hat and prepared to go out.
“He’s the younger son of an earl, I believe, and rejoices in the name of Bertie Vane-Ffoulkes. He patronises the manager as if he were doing him a great favour by joining his company, and he is already plaguing poor Ivy with attentions that she would far rather be without.”
They went to the public garden hoping to find a seat in the shade where they could watch the tennis, and here they came across Ivy and Miss Helen Orme, who usually shared lodgings. In attendance on them walked a rather handsome young man with a pink and white complexion and an air of complacent self-esteem. Ivy catching sight of them hastened forward with joyful alacrity though her cavalière servente was in the middle of one of his most telling anecdotes.
“How delightful to meet you again!” she exclaimed taking both Evereld’s hands in hers. “I have been longing to see you. Now, if that obnoxious Mr. Vane-Ffoulkes will but take himself off there are so many things I want to say to you.”
The Honorable Bertie, however, never thought himself in the way, he begged Ralph to introduce him to Mrs. Denmead and kindly patronised them all for the next hour, chatting in what he flattered himself was a very pleasant and genial manner about himself, the new costumes he had specially ordered from Abiram’s for his first appearance on the stage, the great success of the private theatricals at his father’s place in Southshire when he had acted with dear Lady Dunlop Tyars, and various anecdotes of high life which he felt sure would interest “these theatrical people.”