“A rude coarse beast, bai Jove!” muttered Max elegantly, as he tried vainly to get the little button of his glove secured. “Let him have a fall again, and see if I’ll go to his help!”
“I shall come with you if I may,” said Nelly demurely.
“To be sure!” laughed Charley, whose heart throbbed with pleasure as he felt—nay, hardly felt—the light pressure of the grey glove upon his arm. “Miss Bedford won’t mind, I hope. Do you know, Miss Bedford, I’m rather glad you are with us? I’m almost afraid Nelly means some inroad upon my purse.”
“No, I don’t,” said Nelly, “so don’t be afraid;” and then she walked very demurely by their side, Charley encouraging her to stay upon observing Ella’s constraint and troubled looks.
“She’d be off like a frightened pigeon—dove, I mean!” muttered Charley, as he looked down at the almost painful face beside him. But a little quiet conversation upon current topics seemed to set her more at ease, and, after a while, Hugh Lingon approaching, Charley Vining whispered, loudly enough, though, for Nelly to hear:
“Now I’m going, Miss Bedford, for here comes Nelly’s intended. I hope you will play the chaperone most stringently.”
Nelly rewarded him with a sharp pinch as he left them, Hugh Lingon taking his place; and Ella, whose heart beat almost painfully, asking herself the reason why.
But Charley Vining had laid his plans that day, and he felt he must proceed with caution. So hurrying himself, he acted the part of host with admirable tact, picking out the ladies who seemed neglected, forming sets for croquet, handing refreshments, or escorting little parties to the lake-like river for boating; distributing himself, as it were, throughout the grounds, and at last interrupting a tête-à-tête between Laura and Hugh Lingon, who had soon forsaken the ladies left in his charge.
Laura commenced a little minauderie, professing to be unable to leave Mr Lingon; but she gave up directly she saw Charley’s laugh, for she knew that it would be—nay, was—seen through. She knew Charley Vining to be different from most men of her acquaintance; and accepting his offer, she gladly took his arm, making the match-making mammas to whisper, as the handsome couple passed through the grounds, “There, didn’t I tell you so?” and then to gossip about how they had had their suspicions concerning the purpose of the fête.
But Laura’s pleasure was but short-lived; for though Charley was pleasant, gay, and chatty, he was nothing more, and though he carefully avoided referring to the croquet-party, she felt that he was not as she could wish.