“If he cared so little for me,” cried Gussy, indignant, “as to be kept back by seven miles—or even by Clare——”
“My dear, that is not the question,” said her mother. “He has been with us here every day, but he can’t ride over to Thorne every day. He will find business waiting for him, and his visitors will begin to come, and Clare—without meaning any harm—I am sure Clare would never put herself in opposition to you; she is a great deal too proud for that—but without meaning it she will make engagements for him, she will expect him to attend to her a little—and it is quite natural she should. I am very sorry you did not let him come. For my own part I should have liked to see him again. I am growing quite fond of him, Gussy. He is the sort of young man whom one can put such confidence in. I should have liked to ask his advice about Phil at Harrow. I should have liked—but of course it cannot be helped now. I think I will ask them both to come and spend a week with us at Thorne.”
“Mamma!” cried Gussy, with a violent blush. “Oh, don’t please; fancy inviting a man—any man—for the express purpose—— Oh, please, for my sake, don’t do such a thing as that!”
“Such a thing as what?” asked Lady Augusta, gravely. “Because you happen to have a little feeling on the subject, that is not to prevent me, I hope, from doing my duty to my nearest neighbours. Clare Arden has not paid us a visit since she went into mourning. And she really ought not to be encouraged to go on wearing black and shutting herself up in this absurd way. I will write and invite them to-morrow. Don’t you see, autumn is approaching, and of course he has asked quantities of people—young men always do the first season, when they feel they have a house all to themselves. No, my dear, don’t say anything. I know more of the world than you do, and I know there is nothing so perilous as letting such a thing drag on. He had better either ask you at once, or make it quite plain that he is not going to ask you; and much as I like him, Gussy, if this is not decided directly I shall certainly not invite him any more.”
“Mamma, you make me so ashamed of myself,” said Gussy. “If you ask him to Thorne for such a purpose I know I shall not be able to look at him. I will not be civil to him—I could not—so it will do more harm than good.”
“I am not afraid that you will be uncivil,” said Lady Augusta, with a smile; “but it was very foolish of you to say he was not to come. I can’t think how you could do it. Sometimes, it is true, it is better for a man not to think he is too distinctly understood. Sometimes—— But never mind, my dear, I see it is I who must manage matters now. Go and put up your hair, and go to bed——”
“But, oh, mamma, dear!” cried Gussy, with her arms round her mother’s neck. “Don’t! How could I ever speak to him when I knew—— How could I ever look him in the face?”
“I hope you know how to conduct yourself towards all your papa’s guests,” said Lady Augusta, with dignity. “If you don’t, I should feel that I must have brought you up very badly. I hear your papa’s step coming along the corridor. Good night, my darling! Go to bed, and don’t think any more of it; and be sure you don’t let Angelique crêper your hair.”
Thus dismissed, Gussy sped along the passage, and rushed in, breathless and indignant, yet not so indignant as she looked, into Ada’s room, where her sisters were waiting for her. “Only fancy!” she cried, throwing herself into the nearest chair. “Only think what mamma is going to do! Because I would not let him come here to-morrow, when we will all be in such confusion, she is going to write and ask the Ardens to Thorne! I shall never be able to look him in the face. I shall feel he knows exactly what is meant—— Oh! to think a man should be able to suppose one expects—— He will think it is my doing—he will imagine I want him. Oh, Ada! what shall I do——”
“Hush, dear, hush!” said Ada, who was the consoler of the house; while Helena, in her rôle of indignant womanhood, took up Gussy’s strain.