Contraband; Or, A Losing Hazard

by G. J. Whyte-Melville

Comparing their several communications, the three ladies discovered that this painstaking correspondent had written in precisely the same terms to each, requesting, with no little formality, the pleasure of their company at his proposed pic-nic. To so polite a circular all admitted it was a thousand pities a refusal must be sent; but, alas! Goldthred had selected for his party a day fixed for one of those breakfasts in the vicinity of London at which everybody asked thinks it necessary to appear, while the uninvited decline other engagements, partly in hopes of a card at the last moment, partly that they may not publish their exclusion from this suburban paradise, to their friends.

It cost Helen some minutes' study to frame her refusal of Mr. Goldthred's invitation.

She was little in the habit of writing to gentlemen, and entertained grave doubts as to the manner in which a young lady ought to address her correspondents of the other sex. To begin "Sir" she considered decidedly too formal. "Dear Mr. Goldthred" would be too familiar. After spoiling two sheets of note-paper, she resolved that "Dear Sir" was the correct thing, and sat down to write her note accordingly, with a beating heart and an exceedingly good pen.

It was not Mr. Goldthred's invitation, however, that caused this derangement of Helen's circulation, that brought the light to her eyes, the colour to her cheeks. She had received Frank Vanguard's letter by the same post, and reading it, as she was forced to do, in the presence of the others, could scarce keep down a little cry of rapture and surprise at its contents. She walked away, indeed, to the window, so as to hide her face from her companions, and took the earliest opportunity of escaping to her own room, that she might devour it over and over again in solitude, but was presently drawn from that refuge by certain energetic housemaids, and compelled to return to the drawing-room without delay, inasmuch as the post left The Lilies again before luncheon. Such a letter as Frank's required an immediate answer, however short it might be, and Helen's was indeed of the shortest. She felt that until she had consulted her father, it was better not to pour out on paper the feelings thrilling at her heart. A very few words would serve to convey her sentiments in the mean time, so a couple of lines were considered enough to let Frank know that, as far as the young lady herself was concerned, his proposals should be favourably entertained.

It was very provoking, to be sure, that papa was out of the way, and that his absence was of such doubtful duration; still he would surely approve when he learned all particulars, and a day or two did not seem long to wait after weeks of uncertainty and anxiety. All at once Helen felt as if she had known Captain Vanguard her whole life, and never cared a straw for any other creature on earth. Her heart leaped to think there was a chance of meeting him to-night at Lady Shuttlecock's. He would be sure to guess she was going. Of course he would be there!

So, with a quickened pulse, as I have said, but affecting much outward composure, Miss Hallaton daintily folded two neat little packets, and addressed them, notwithstanding her agitation, in a perfectly steady handwriting, to William Goldthred, Esq., and Captain F. Vanguard, respectively, each at the Cauliflower Club, St. James's, S.W. Then she dropped them in a letter-box that stood under the clock in the front hall, and felt so happy she could have sung aloud for joy.

But a pair of lynx-eyes had been watching Helen's movements; a keen and busy brain was working eagerly to account for every change in the girl's demeanour, from the first flush of pleasure with which she read her letters to the buoyant step and joyous air with which she re-entered the drawing-room after depositing their answers in the box. Miss Ross knew well enough that a communication from Goldthred was insufficient to produce this unusual agitation, and a keen instinct of jealousy whispered that Helen's other letter must be from Frank Vanguard.

Jin's pale face turned paler at the thought, but it was her nature to confront a difficulty as soon as suspected; to overcome it unscrupulously and without regard to the means employed, if it really stood in her way.

She would have given a great deal to see the letter Helen read over half a dozen times under her very eyes, but how was that possible when it lay safely stowed away in the breast of a morning gown? No; the letter was doubtless out of reach, but she could get some information surely from its answer!

A walk before luncheon had been agreed on, at the instigation indeed of Miss Ross, who wanted her afternoon clear for a visit to Mrs. Mole. She was ready before the others; and while they were putting their bonnets on, ran down-stairs with a jug of warm water, to the astonishment of the housemaid, who heard her say she was going to water some plants in the library. Then she fidgeted backwards and forwards from the hall to the drawing-room, and Mrs. Lascelles, coming out of the latter apartment, found her bending over the letter-box.