Lottie went in, still in her dream, walking, she thought, in her sleep. She hoped this sleep would last for ever—that it might not be rashly disturbed by waking, or even by that which would be almost as bad as waking—coming true. She could scarcely feel that she wanted it to come true; it was enough as it was, a bewildering happiness that tingled to the very ends of her fingers, that made her feel as if she were walking on air. She went softly upstairs, caring for nothing but to get to her room, where, though it was dark and cold, she could still go on with this wonderful vision. That seemed all she wanted. But, alas! something very different was in store for Lottie. As she went with soft steps up the stairs the door of the little drawing-room was suddenly opened, letting out a warm stream of ruddy light. Then a sound of laughter reached her ears, and Polly’s voice——
“Come in, come in; we are waiting for you; we are both here,” with another gay outburst.
Lottie came to herself, and to all the disagreeable realities of her life, with a start of pain. She had to obey, though nothing could be more disagreeable to her. She went in with dazzled eyes into the room full of firelight. She remembered now that she had remarked outside that no lamp was lighted, and had supposed with relief that Mrs. Despard was out. But Mrs. Despard had not been out. She had been lurking in the ruddy gloom near the window, her husband by her side. They greeted Lottie with another laugh, as she came in with her pale, astonished face within the circle of the fire.
“So that’s how you spend your afternoons, miss, as I never could think where you were,” cried Polly; “but why didn’t you bring in your beau with you? I’d have given him his tea and a nice leg of a goose, as comfortable as could be.”
“My child,” said the Captain on his side, “I congratulate you. I’ve been expecting something of this kind for a long time. I’ve had my eye upon you. But why didn’t you bring Mr. Ridsdale in, as Mrs. Despard says?”
Lottie felt as if she had been turned into stone. She stood all dark in her winter dress, the firelight playing upon her, and seeking in vain to catch at some possibility of reflection. She had not even a button that would give back the light. And she had not a word to say.
“Come, come, you need not be so put out,” said the Captain, not unkindly. “We saw you coming; and very proper of Mr. Ridsdale not to leave you at the Deanery, but to see you home to your own door. You thought no one was paying any attention—but I hope,” Captain Despard added, “that I think more than that of my child. I don’t doubt from what I saw, Lottie, that you understand each other; and why hasn’t he come before now to speak to me? You might have known that such a suitor would not be received unfavourably. Happy myself,” said the Captain, throwing out his chest, “would I have put any obstacle between you and your happiness, my dear?”
“I did not think—I did not know—I think—you are mistaken,” Lottie faltered, not knowing what to say.
“Mistaken, indeed! Oh, we’ve gone through all that too lately to be mistaken, haven’t we, Harry?” cried Mrs. Despard. “We know all about it. You couldn’t come to those as would understand you better. Don’t be frightened; you haven’t been found out in anything wrong. If that was wrong I’ve a deal to answer for,” Polly cried, laughing. “I should think you must be frozen with cold after wandering about on them Slopes, or wherever you have been. How foolish young people are, to be sure, getting their deaths of cold. We never were as foolish as that, were we, Harry? Come and warm yourself, you silly girl. You needn’t be afraid of him or me.”
Amid their laughter, however, Lottie managed to get away, to take off her hat, and to try as best she could to realise this new phase of the situation. What her father had said was very reasonable. Why had not Rollo come, as the Captain said? How that would have simplified everything, made everything legitimate! She sighed, not able to understand her lover, feeling that for once her father was right; but Rollo had said that this could not be, that it would be necessary to keep everything quiet. Her dream of happiness was disturbed. Dreams are better, so much better, than reality. In them there is never any jar with fact and necessity; they can adapt themselves to everything, fit themselves into every new development. But now that she was fully awoke it was less easy to steer her way through all the obstacles. Rollo’s reluctance to declare himself, and her father’s right to know, and the pain of leaving her home in a clandestine way, all rushed upon her, dispersing her happiness to the winds. She had felt that to awake would be to lose the sweetness which had wrapped her about; and now the rude encounter with the world had come, and Lottie felt that even with that prospect of happiness before her it was difficult to bear what she would have to bear;—Polly’s innuendoes and, worse still, Polly’s sympathy, and the questions of her father appalled her as she looked forward to them. During this strange courtship of hers, so perplexed and mixed up as it was with her music and the “career” which they all, even Rollo, had tried to force upon her (though surely there need be no more of that now), and the changes that had taken place at home, Lottie had almost lost herself. She was no longer the high-spirited girl, full of energy and strength, who had reigned over this little house and dragged Law’s heavy bulk along through so many difficulties. She had dreamed so much, and taken refuge so completely from the troubles of her position in those dreams, that now she seemed to have lost her own characteristics, and had no vigour to sustain her when she had actual difficulties to face. She tried to recall herself to herself as she smoothed her hair, which had been blown about by the breeze. From the beginning she had been pained by Rollo’s reserve, though she had persuaded herself it was natural enough; but now, in this new, strange revolution of affairs—a revolution caused entirely, she said to herself, by her father’s own proceedings—what could she do but stand firm on her own side? She would not betray the great purpose in hand. She would still her own heart, and keep her composure, and not allow any agitation or any irritation to wrest from her the secret which Rollo desired to keep. To smooth her ruffled hair was not generally a long process with Lottie; but it was more difficult to arrange her agitated thoughts, and there had been various calls for her from below, where the others had gone for their evening meal, before she was ready to follow.