Meanwhile Lottie read the note, which purported to come from Lady Caroline, and had a wavering C. Huntington at the bottom of the page, which was her genuine autograph. The warmth of the appeal, however, to her dear Miss Despard, to take pity on the dulness of the Deanery and come in “quietly” that evening for a little music, was not in any way Lady Caroline’s. She had consented indeed to permit herself to be sung to on Rollo’s strenuous representation of the pleasure it had given her. “You know, Aunt Caroline, you enjoyed it,” he had said; and “Yes, I know I enjoyed it,” Lady Caroline, much wavering, had replied. It would not have been creditable not to have enjoyed what was evidently such very good singing; but it was not she who wrote of the dulness of the Deanery nor who used such arguments to induce her dear Miss Despard to come. Lottie’s countenance bending over the note glowed with pleasure as Mrs. O’Shaughnessy kept up the conversation. Even with those girls who think they believe that the admiration of men is all they care for, the approbation of a woman above their own rank is always a more touching and more thorough triumph than any admiration of men. And Lottie, though she was so proud, was all humility in this respect; that Lady Caroline should thus take her up, and encourage her, praise her, invite her, went to her very heart. She almost cried over the kind words. She raised her face all softened and glowing with happiness to the anxious messenger who was listening to Mrs. O’Shaughnessy, and as their eyes met a sudden smile of such responsive pleasure and satisfaction came to Rollo’s face as translated Lottie back into the very paradise of her dreams.
“I can’t say, me dear sir,” said Mrs. O’Shaughnessy, “that things are just exactly as we wish here, or as we thought we had a right to look for. The Major and me, we’ve been used to a deal of fine company. Wherever we’ve gone, was it in Canada, was it the Channel Islands, was it at the depôt of the regiment, we’ve always been called upon by the best. But here, sure the position is not what we were led to expect. Money is all that most people are thinking of. There’s the society in the town would jump at us. But that does not count, Mr. Ridsdale, you know, that does not count; for to us in Her Majesty’s service, that have always been accustomed to the best——”
“Surely, surely, I quite understand; and you have a right to the best. Miss Despard,” said the ambassador, “I hope you are considering what Lady Caroline says, and will not disappoint our hopes. Last night was triumph, but this will be enjoyment. You, who must know what talent Miss Despard has—I appeal to you, Mrs. O’Shaughnessy—I am sure from your kind looks that we will have your aid.”
“Is it to go and sing for them again, Lottie, me dear?” said the old lady in an undertone. “That’s just what I don’t like, Mr. Ridsdale—excuse me if I speak my mind free—me Lady Caroline and his reverence the Dean, they’re ready enough to take an advantage, and make their own use of the Chevaliers’——”
“Do I need to write a note?” said Lottie, interrupting hastily to prevent the completion of a speech which seemed to threaten the very foundations of her happiness. “Perhaps it would be more polite to write a note.” She looked at him with a little anxiety, for the thought passed through her mind that she had no pretty paper like this, with a pretty monogram and “The Deanery, St. Michael’s,” printed on its creamy glaze, and even that she did not write a pretty hand that would do her credit; and, going further, that she would not know how to begin, whether she should be familiar, and venture upon saying, “Dear Lady Caroline,” which seemed rather presumptuous, calling an old lady by her Christian name—or——
“I need not trouble you to write. I am sure you mean to say yes, Miss Despard, which is almost more than I dared hope. Yes is all we want, and I shall be so happy to carry it——”
“Yes is easy said,” said Mrs. O’Shaughnessy; “a great deal easier than no. Oh, me dear, I don’t object to your going; not a bit; only I take an interest in ye, and ye must not make yourself too cheap. Know her talent, Mr. Ridsdale? sure I can’t say that I do. I know herself, and a better girl, saving for a bit of temper, don’t exist. But a girl is the better of a spark of temper, and that’s just what you’ve got, me dear Lottie. No; I don’t know her talent. She has a voice for singing, that I know well; for to hear her and Rowley when she’s having her lesson, sure it’s enough to give a deaf person the ear-ache. But that’s the most that I know.”
“Then, Miss Despard,” said Rollo, springing to his feet; “if your—friend is in this condition of doubt, it is impossible she can ever have heard you; will you not gratify me and convince her by singing something now? I know it is horrible impertinence on my part, so recent an acquaintance. But—no, Mrs. O’Shaughnessy, you never can have heard her. I have some songs here that I know you would sing to perfection. I deserve to be ordered out of the house for my presumption. I know it; but——” and he clasped his hands and fixed supplicating eyes upon Lottie, who, blushing, trembling, frightened, and happy, did not know how to meet those eyes.
“Sure he’ll be down on his knees next,” cried Mrs. O’Shaughnessy delighted; “and you wouldn’t have the heart to deny the gentleman when he begs so pretty. I’ll not say but what I’ve heard her, and heard her many a time, but maybe the change of the circumstances and the want of Rowley will make a difference. Come, Lottie, me darling, don’t wait for pressing, but give us a song, and let us be done with it. If it was a good song you would sing, and not one of those sacred pieces that make me feel myself in the Abbey—where we all are, saving your presence, often enough——”
“I have a song here that will please you, I know,” said Rollo. “We shall have you crying in two minutes. You don’t know, my dear Mrs. O’Shaughnessy, what a glorious organ you are talking of.”