Uncle Joseph, too, had been so engrossed with the salad, that Miss Ross was at his elbow again almost before he missed her, though, short as had been her absence, I cannot doubt she made the best use of her time.
Much may be done, if I remember right, in a few minutes, when paths are steep as well as narrow, when glades are deep and dark even under a midsummer sun, when two people are inclined, if only for pastime, to engage in that game from which a loser so often rises under the impression that he has won.
It was the old story—Miss Ross, with all her craft, was playing stakes she could ill afford. In the attachments, as in other relations of life, wise is that aphorism of the canny Scot, "Reach not out your hand farther than you can draw it back again." Ere she rejoined the others, Jin felt she must win at any sacrifice, she could not get her hand back now; she would not if she could.
Frank, sitting down to cut open a pigeon pie, felt half-pleased, half-penitent. Like a child being tickled, he was inclined both to laugh and to resist.
He looked remorsefully across the table-cloth at Miss Hallaton, but that perverse young woman, obstinately avoiding his glance, persisted in being amused by the cornet-player's buffooneries, wishing drearily all the while that she had never come. Frank thought he too could be indifferent; so the breach widened, from the breadth of the table-cloth to a gulf that could only be bridged over by loving memories and painful thoughts, as the lake is spanned by the rainbow, that owes its very existence to a shower of Nature's tears.
Undoubtedly there is a deal of self-love mixed up with these tender woes and joys. If vanity constitutes much of their pleasure, surely it produces more than half their pain. "Plus aloes quam mellis habet," says the Roman satirist; and perhaps, after all, the honey would be very insipid without the sting.
But a pic-nic is no place for indulgence of reflection or regret. The party had landed at Cliefden for enjoyment, and were determined to grasp the shadow of happiness if not the substance thereof. So corks flew and tongues wagged merrily, the cold lamb waned, the mayonnaise disappeared, the currant-tart bled freely.
"And when the pie was opened, the birds began to sing," so, at least, said the young subaltern, now in a state of exceedingly high spirits; "and why shouldn't the ladies?" he added, looking round him with condescending affability. "I'll accompany any or all of them to any tune or in any direction she pleases. Though I'm humble, I'm industrious; and if I seem too weak for the place, you must suit yourselves 'elsewheres;' for, to do man's work, I must have man's wages, and I ain't half so soft as I look!"
"You're a very impudent boy," said Mrs. Lascelles, laughing; "but you're rather good fun, and it's not a bad suggestion. Now, who will give us a song?"
There seemed rather a lack of volunteers. The original proposer vowed he could neither drink nor sing unless after a lady. He was shy, he said, and blushed under his skin, therefore nobody gave him credit for modesty. Helen felt something in her throat that warned her she must burst out crying, unless she kept it down. One had a cold, others could not remember any words, so it soon came round to Miss Ross, "who was always so good-natured; everybody was sure she wouldn't disappoint them!"