Lancaster's Choice
Page 6
"Oh, yes."
"And is he old and ugly and cross and rich?" pursued Miss West,curiously.
"He is all but the last," declared Lancaster, unblushingly. "He is aspoor as Job's turkey. That is not nice, is it?"
"I know some people who are poor, but very, very nice," said the girl,with a decided air.
"I am glad to hear you say so. I am very poor myself. I have beenthinking that the reason you have snubbed me so unmercifully of late isbecause I so foolishly gave myself away when I first met you."
"Gave yourself away?" uncomprehendingly.
"I mean I told you I was poor. I beg your pardon for the slang phraseI used just now. One falls unconsciously into such habits in the army.But tell me, did you?"
"Did I do what?"
"Did you snub me because I am poor?"
"I have not snubbed you at all," indignantly.
"You have ignored me. That is even worse," he said.
"Indeed I have not ignored you at all," she protested.
"Well, then, you forgot me. That is the unkindest cut of all. I couldbear to be snubbed, but I hate to be totally annihilated," said he,with a grieved air.
She pursed her pretty lips and remained silent.
"Now you want me to go away, I see," he remarked. "This is the firsttime you have let me talk to you since we came aboard, and already youare weary."
"Yes, I am already weary," she echoed.
She put her little hand over her lips and yawned daintily butdeliberately.
Burning with chagrin, he lifted his hat to her and walked away.
"I can never speak to her but she makes me repent," he said to himself,and went and leaned moodily against the side, while he continued tohimself: "What a little thorn she is, and how sharply she can wound."
Leonora watched the retreating figure a moment, then leisurely openedher book again and settled herself to read. But she was not very deeplyinterested, it seemed, for now and then she glanced up under her longlashes at the tall, moveless figure of the soldier. At length she putdown the book and went across to him.
Gazing intently out to sea, he started when a hand soft and white asa snow-flake fluttered down upon his coat-sleeve. He glanced quicklyaround.
"Miss West!" he exclaimed, in surprise.
She glanced up deprecatingly into his face.
"I--I was rude to you just now," she stammered. "I beg your pardon forit. I--I really don't know why I was so. I don't dislike you, indeed,and I think you are very nice. I have enjoyed the chair and the books,and I have been sorry ever since that day when I came down to thesteamer and did not wait for you. But--somehow--it was very hard totell you so."
She had spoken every word with a delightful shyness, and after a pause,she went on, with a catch in her breath:
"As for your being poor, I never thought of that--never. I think poormen are the nicest--always. They are handsomer than the rich ones. I--"
She caught her breath with a gasp. He had turned around quickly andcaught her hand.
"Miss West--" he was beginning to say, when a sudden step soundedbeside them.
Lieutenant De Vere had come up to them. There was a sudden glitter inhis brown eyes--a jealous gleam.
"I beg your pardon. Are you and Miss West rehearsing for privatetheatricals?" he asked, with a slight sarcastic inflection.
Lancaster looked intensely annoyed; Leonora only laughed.
"Yes," she said. "Do you not think that I should make a good actress,Lieutenant De Vere?"
"Yes," he replied, "and Lancaster would make a good actor. 'One man inhis time plays many parts.'"
Lancaster looked at him with a lightning gleam in his blue eyes. Therewas a superb scorn in them.
"Thank you," he replied. "And to carry out your idea, I will now makemy exit."
He bowed royally and walked away. De Vere laughed uneasily; Leonora hadcoolly gone back to her book. His eyes flashed.
"If anyone had told me this, I should not have believed it," hemuttered. "Ah! it was well to lecture me and get the game into hisown hands. Beggar! what could he give her, even if she bestowed hermatchless self upon him--what but a barren honor, an empty title? Ah,well! false friend, I know all now," he hissed angrily to himself.
CHAPTER XV.
Leonora, apparently absorbed in her book, watched her exasperatedadmirer curiously under her long, shady lashes. She divined intuitivelythat he was bitterly jealous of his handsome friend.
"Have I stirred up strife between them?" she asked herself, uneasily."That will never do. I must carry the olive branch to the distrustfulfriend."
She glanced around, and seeing that Lancaster was not in sight, calledgently:
"Lieutenant De Vere!"
He hurried toward her, and stood in grim silence awaiting her pleasure.
"I--want to speak to you," she said.
There was a vacant chair near at hand. He brought it and sat down byher side.
"I am at your service, Miss West," he said, stiffly.
He thought he had never seen anything half so enchanting as the faceshe raised to his. The big black hat was a most becoming foil to herfresh young beauty. There was a smile on the rosy lips--half arch, halfwistful. The full light of the sunny day shone on her, but her beautywas so flawless that the severe test only enhanced its perfection. Hisheart gave a fierce throb, half pain, half pleasure.
"You are vexed with me?" said Leonora, in a soft, inquiring voice.
"Oh, no, no," he replied, quickly.
"No?" she said. "But, then, you certainly are vexed with some one. Ifit is not with me, then it must be with Captain Lancaster."
To this proposition, that was made with an air of conviction, heremained gravely silent.
"Silence gives consent," said the girl, after waiting vainly for him tospeak, and then he bowed coldly.
"Then it is he," she said. "Ah, dear me! what has Captain Lancasterdone?"
"That is between him and me," said the soldier, with a sulky air.
The red lips dimpled. Leonora rather enjoyed the situation.
"You will not tell me?" she said.
"I beg your pardon--no," he answered, resolutely.
"Then I will tell you," she said: "you think he has treated youunfairly, that he has taken advantage of you."
De Vere stared.
"How can you possibly know, Miss West?" he asked, pulling sulkily atthe ends of his dark mustache.
"I am very good at guessing," demurely.
"You did not guess this. He told you, I presume," bitterly.
"He--if you mean Captain Lancaster--told me nothing. I was telling himsomething. Why should you be vexed at him because I went and stoodthere and talked to him?" indignantly.
"I was not," rather feebly.
"Do you really deny it?" she asked him, incredulously.
"Well, since you put it so seriously, yes, I was vexed about it; but Idon't understand how you could know it," he answered, flushing a darkred.
"I will tell you how I know," she said, coloring crimson also. "I heardall that you and Captain Lancaster said about me that first night wecame aboard."
"Oh, by Jove! you didn't, though?" he exclaimed, radiant, and trying tomeet the glance of the beautiful eyes.
But with her shy avowal she had let the white lids drop bashfully overthem.
De Vere was not one bit disconcerted by what she had told him. He knewthat all she had heard that night had been to his advantage.
"And so all this while you knew that I thought--" he began, boldly.
"That you thought me rather pretty--yes," she replied, modestly."I knew also that I was a _m?salliance_ for you, and that CaptainLancaster's future was 'cut and dried,'" bitterly.
He gazed at her in wonder.
"And you have kept it to yourself all this while, Miss West?"
"Yes, because I was ashamed to confess the truth. I did not want to bethought an eavesdropper, for I did not really wish to hear. It was anaccident, but it has weighed on my mind ever since
, and at last I madeup my mind to 'fess, as the children say."
He gazed at her with ever-increasing admiration.
"So," she went on, slowly, "this evening I told Captain Lancaster allabout it."
She blushed at the remembrance of some other things she had toldhim--things she had not meant to tell, but which had slipped out, as itwere, in her compunction at her rudeness to him.
"And--that was all? Was he not making love to you, really?" criedthe lieutenant, still uneasy at the remembrance of that impulsivehand-clasp that had so amazed him.
She flashed her great eyes at him in superb anger.
"Love to me--he would not dare!" breathlessly. "I'm nothing to him,nothing to you--never shall be! Please remember that! Once I reachmy aunt, neither of you need ever expect to see me again. I--I--" astrangling sob; she broke down and wept out her anger in a perfumedsquare of black-bordered cambric.
"Oh, pray, don't cry!" cried he, in distress. "I did not mean to makeyou angry, Miss West;" and then Leonora hastily dried her eyes andlooked up at him.
"I'm not angry--really," she said. "Only--only, I want you tounderstand that you need not be angry with Captain Lancaster on myaccount. There's no use in your liking me and having a quarrel overme--no use at all."
"No one has quarreled," he answered, in a tone of chagrin and bitterdisappointment.
"Not yet, of course," she replied shaking her head gravely. "But youknow you spoke to him very aggravatingly just now."
"I merely used a quotation from Shakespeare," he retorted.
The bright eyes looked him through and through with their clear gaze.
"Yes, but there was a double meaning in it. I am sure he understood allthat you meant to convey. I should think that when you meet him againhe will knock you down for it."
"You are charmingly frank, but you are right. I do not doubt but thathe will--if he can," he replied, bitterly.
Leonora measured the medium-sized figure critically with her eyes.
"I should think there could be no doubt on the subject," she observed."He is twice as big as you are."
"Why do women all admire big, awkward giants?" asked he, warmly.
"We do not," sharply.
"Oh, Miss West, there's no use denying it. There are a dozen men in theGuards better looking than Lancaster, yet not one so much run after bythe women; all because he is a brawny-fisted Hercules," crossly.
"Captain Lancaster is your friend, isn't he?" with a curling lip.
"He was before I saw you. He is not my friend if he is my rival," saidDe Vere, with frankness equal to her own.
The round cheeks grew crimson again.
"Put me out of the question. I am nothing to either of you--never canbe," she said. "You have been friends, haven't you?"
"Yes," curtly.
"For a long time?" persisted she.
"Ever since I went into the Guards--that is five years ago," hereplied. "The fellows used to call us Damon and Pythias."
"Then don't--don't let me make a quarrel between you!" exclaimedLeonora, pleadingly.
"It is already made, isn't it?" with a half regret in his voice.
"No; only begun--and you mustn't let it go any further."
"No? But what is a fellow to do, I should like to know?"
"You must go and apologize to your friend for your hasty, ill-timedwords," she said.
"I'll be hanged if I show the white feather like that!" he cried,violently.
"There is no white feather at all. You made a mistake and spoke unjustwords to your friend. Now, when you discover your error, you should beman enough to retract your remarks," she answered, indignantly.
"I can't see why you take up for Lancaster so vehemently," hecommented, straying from the main point.
"I'm not taking up for him," warmly. "I only don't want you to make afool of yourself about _me_!"
"Ah!"--shortly.
"Yes, that is what I mean, exactly; I don't want my aunt to thinkI've set you two at odds. She will be prejudiced against me in thebeginning. Come, now," dropping her vexed tone and falling into acoaxing one, "go and make it up with your injured Pythias."
He regarded her in silence a moment.
"Should you like me any better if I did?" he inquired, after thisthoughtful pause.
"Of course I should," she answered, in an animated tone.
"And it would really please you for me to tell Lancaster I was mistakenand am sorry?"
"Yes, I should like that, certainly."
He tried to look into the sparkling eyes, but they had wandered awayfrom him. She was watching the flight of a sea-bird whose glancingwings were almost lost in the illimitable blue of the sky.
"If I do this thing it will be wholly for your sake," he said,meaningly.
"For my sake, then," she answered, carelessly; and then he rose andleft her.
* * * * *
Lancaster had been in his state-room reading two hours, perhaps, whenDe Vere knocked at his door. He tossed back his fair hair carelessly,and without rising from his reclining posture, bade the applicant comein.
"Ah, it is you, De Vere?" he said, icily.
"Yes, it is I, Lancaster. What have you been doing? Writing a challengeto me?" laughing. "Well, you may burn it now; I have come to retract mywords."
"To retract?" the frown on Lancaster's moody brow began to clear away.
"Yes, I was mistaken, I thought you were my rival in secret, but MissWest has explained all to me. I spoke unjustly. Can you accord me yourpardon? I'm downright sorry, old fellow--no mistake."
Lancaster gave him his hand.
"Think before you speak next time," he said, dryly.
"I will. But I was terribly cut up at first, seeing you and hertogether--like that. How sweet she is! She did not want us to quarrelover her. She confessed everything. It was comical, her hearingeverything that night--was it not? But there was no harm done."
"No," Lancaster said, constrainedly.
"I'm glad we are friends again; but I was so stiff I could never haveowned myself in the wrong, only that I promised to do it for her sake,"added De Vere; and then he went away, and left his friend to resume theinterrupted perusal of his novel.
But Lancaster tossed the folio angrily down upon the floor.
"For her sake," he replied. "She is a little coquette, after all, and Ithought for an hour that--Pshaw, I am a fool! So she has fooled him tothe top of his bent, too! Why did I speak to her at all? Little nettle!I might have known how she would sting! Well, well, I wish the 'smallcommission' were duly handed over to the housekeeper at Lancaster Park.A good riddance, I should say! So she thought that poor men were thenicest and handsomest, always? Faugh! Lucky for me that De Vere cameupon the scene just then! In another minute I should have told her thatI thought just the same about poor girls! So she confessed all to DeVere, and bade him apologize for her sake. Ah, ah, little flirt!" herepeated, bitterly.
CHAPTER XVI.
Things went on smoothly as usual at Lancaster Park after Mrs. West hadgiven her consent to my lady's clever plan. They put Richard West'schild out of their heads for awhile and began their preparations forthe guests who were expected to arrive the last of May, to welcome thereturning master of Lancaster Park. Mrs. West found time in the hubbubto fit up a tidy little room next her own for the little American niecewho was coming to her from so far away. Then she, too, dismissed thematter from her mind, save now and then when in solitary moments shewould wonder to herself what Dick West's child would be like, and ifshe would be old enough to put to school.
"It is lucky that I have a good store of savings," thought the lonelywoman to herself. "I will find a good boarding-school for littleLeonora, if she is old enough to go, and the child shall be educatedfor a teacher, that she may have the means of supporting herselfgenteelly when she grows up. It will take a good deal of money, butI will not begrudge it to poor Dick's child. He was a good-hearted,sunny-tempered lad. I only hope his child may be like him."
So she went on thinking of Leonora West as a little girl who would be agreat deal of trouble to her, and on whom she would have to spend thesavings of long years; and, although she felt that she had a formidabletask before her in the rearing of this orphan girl, she did not shrinkfrom the undertaking, but made up her mind to go forward bravely in thefulfillment of the precious charge left to her by the dead.
So the day drew near for Leonora's arrival, and the great house was nowfilled with guests--twenty in all--whom Lady Lancaster had bidden tothe feast, prepared in honor of her nephew, the Lord of Lancaster.
So the day was come at last, and Lady Lancaster in the drawing-roomawaited her nephew, while the housekeeper in the kitchen awaited herniece.
It was one of the most beautiful of June days. The air was sweet andwarm, the sky was clear and blue, all nature seemed to smile on thehome-coming of the master.
Mrs. West, having given her orders in the kitchen, repaired to her ownspecial sitting-room, a small apartment on the second floor, with asunny window looking out upon the rear grounds of the house. She hadput a bouquet of roses in a vase on the mantel, and some small pots ofsimple, sweet-smelling flowers on the window-sill, to brighten up theplace for the child's eyes.