These words were on his lips when, coming out by a private door, the three connoisseurs suddenly came upon Lottie, who was walking home with Mrs. O’Shaughnessy. The Signor, who was noted for a womanish heat of partisanship and had not forgiven her for the disappointment of his pupil, darted a violent glance at her as he took off his hat. It might have been himself that she had rejected, so full of offence was his look; and this fixed the attention of the big Manager, who took off his hat too, with a smile of secret amusement, and watched the scene, making a private memorandum to the effect that Rossinetti evidently had been hit also; and no wonder! a handsome girl as you could see in a summer day, with a voice that was a very nice voice, a really superior voice for an amateur.
As for Rollo, he hastened up to Mrs. O’Shaughnessy with fervour, and held out his hand; and how happy and how proud was that kind woman! She curtseyed as she took his hand as if he had been the Prince of Wales, nearly pulling him down, too, ere she recovered herself; and her countenance shone, partly with the heat, partly with the delight.
“And I hope I see you well, sir,” she said; “and glad to see you back in St. Michael’s. There’s nothing like young people for keeping a place cheerful. Though we don’t go into society, me and me Major, yet it’s a pleasure to see the likes of you about.”
Rollo had time to turn to Lottie with very eloquent looks while this speech was being addressed to him. “I am only here for half an hour,” he said; “I could not resist the temptation of coming for the service.”
“Oh! me dear sir, you wouldn’t care so much for the sarvice if ye had as much of it as we have,” said Mrs. O’Shaughnessy, going on well pleased. She liked to hear herself talking, and she had likewise a quick perception of the fact that, while she talked, communications of a different kind might go on between “the young folks.” “Between ourselves, it’s not me that they’ll get to stop for their playing,” she said, all the more distinctly that the Signor was within hearing. “I’d go five miles to hear a good band. The music was beautiful in the regiment when O’Shaughnessy was adjutant. And for me own part, Mr. Ridsdale, I’d not give the drums and the fifes for the most elegant music you could play. I don’t say that I’m a judge, but I know what I like.”
“Why did you stop so soon?” Rollo said, aside. “Ah! Miss Despard, was it not cruel?—A good band is an excellent thing, Mrs. O’Shaughnessy. I shall try to get my uncle to have the band from the depôt to play once a week, next time I come here.—Thanks all the same for those few notes; I shall live upon them,” he added fervently, “till I have the chance of hearing you again.”
Lottie made no reply. It was unnecessary with Mrs. O’Shaughnessy there, and talking all the time. And, indeed, what had she to say? The words spread themselves like a balm into every corner of her heart. He would not have gone so far, nor spoken so warmly, if it had not been for the brutal indifference of the big Manager, who stood looking on at a distance, with an air of understanding a great deal more than there was to understand. The malicious knowingness in this man’s eyes made Rollo doubly anxious in his civilities; and then he felt it necessary to make up to Lottie for the other’s blasphemy in respect to her voice, though of this Lottie knew nothing at all.
“I shall not even have time to see my aunt,” he said; “how fortunate that I have had this opportunity of a word with you! I did not know whether I might take the liberty to call.”
“And welcome, Mr. Ridsdale,” said Mrs. O’Shaughnessy. “Lottie’s but a child, so to speak; but I and the Major would be proud to see you. And of an afternoon we’re always at home, and, though I say it as shouldn’t, as good a cup of tea to offer ye as ye’d get from me Lady Caroline herself. It’s ready now, if you’ll accept the refreshment, you and—your friend.”
“A thousand thanks, but we must not stay. Mrs. O’Shaughnessy, if you see my aunt will you explain how it was I could not come to see her? And be sure you tell her you met me at the Abbey door, or she will not like it. Miss Despard, Augusta is coming home, and I hope to be at the Deanery next month. Then I trust you will be more generous, and not stop singing as soon as you see me. What had I done?” he cried in his appealing voice. “Yes, Rossinetti, I’m coming.—Not Good-bye, Mrs. O’Shaughnessy; only, as the French say, Till we meet again.”