The Third Miss St Quentin

by Mrs. Molesworth

his eyes fell on herquaint figure--she had forgotten all about her personal travesty by thistime--and a half dubious, half quizzical smile lighted up his face as ifin spite of himself.

  "It seems mystifications all round," he said. "It is, to say the least,an extraordinary coincidence that I should light upon you like this, allperfectly got up in the Aschen-puttel style."

  "You are very,"--"impertinent" was on the tip of Ella's tongue, but shesuppressed it. "I daresay he has heard of all my iniquities fromMadelene. I am not going to have him endorse her opinion of me," shethought, and a very charming smile stole over her face, as, colouringagain a little, she replied gently, "You are right. It is _very_ queerthat we should have met again like this," and she went on to explainHetty's domestic tribulations.

  "It was most kind of you," said Philip warmly. "But," as at that momentthe little girl and her father joined them, "don't you think you hadbetter return to your own character now? It is very cold, too. Rose,you mustn't let Hetty keep house alone in this style, my good fellow,"he went on to the gardener; "the child might have fallen into the fireand been badly burnt."

  It had never happened before, and never should again, the man assuredhim civilly. He had not known of his wife's absence; she had, so Hettyhad been charged to explain, been tempted to take advantage of theunexpected chance of getting her boy to the doctor's; and by theinvariable rule of contrary, Rose himself had been detained at work muchlater than usual. While the gardener was thus explaining matters, Ellahad run in to the lodge, and a moment later reappeared in hat andjacket, minus the apron and the smuts.

  "Good-bye, Hetty," she said, and "good-bye Sir Philip Cheynes," sheadded, turning to him. "I am going a little further, towards the outergate."

  Philip looked at her.

  "Will you not take your constitutional in another direction?" he saidquietly. "There is--I have something to say to you, which I may notfind another opportunity for."

  Ella looked surprised and a little startled. His tone was solemn. Washe going after all to make out that she deserved lecturing for herinnocent deception? But her expression changed to relief when he wenton, Rose and Hetty having by this time retired--

  "It is not exactly something to say; it is rather something to _give_you. If you don't mind walking beside me while I lead my horse, I willexplain. A--a piece of property of yours has come into my possession.I had no expectation of course of seeing you here, but I have the--article in my pocket, because, to tell the truth, I was going to show itto my cousins and consult them about it. I thought it probable they hadnoticed the shoes `Miss Wyndham' wore the other evening if they were thepeculiar-looking ones in question, and that they would be able to tellme where to find her."

  Ella had had hard work to keep down her impatience during this longexplanation, and when he came to the word "shoe" her eyes danced withdelight.

  "Oh," she exclaimed, "if you have found my slipper I can't thank youenough. You don't know how miserable I have been about it," and shewent on to tell how her anxiety to hear if it had been found had broughther to the lodge that morning. "It must be mine," she went on; "it istoo impossible that such a queer accident should have happened to anyone else the same evening. But please let me see it, that I may bequite sure."

  Philip drew a little parcel out of his pocket and held it out to Ella,who eagerly unwrapped it. Yes--there it lay--the dainty littleold-world slipper, with infinite pathos about its mellow satin andquaint buckle to any one who knew its history.

  Ella looked inclined to kiss it.

  "Oh, how pleased I am," she said. "Do tell me where you found it andall about it--and how odd it was that you should have noticed theslippers I had on and known it was mine."

  Sir Philip looked at her quizzically.

  "I must take your word for it, I suppose, that it _is_ yours," he said."_By rights_, you know, you should try it on, at least after Madeleneand Ermine have done so."

  "What nonsense," Ella exclaimed. "You are not in earnest?"

  It was not till some time afterwards that she understood what he hadmeant.

  "I can show you the fellow to it, if you like," she added.

  "Well--perhaps that would do as well," he agreed, looking much amused.

  "And as for trying it on, that _wouldn't_ convince you," she said aftera moment's reflection, "for they're too big for me. They weren't madefor me--"

  "Scarcely, unless--you are even more of a fairy personage than I havesuspected. The slippers must be thirty years old at least. If you weregrown-up thirty years ago, you look young for your age," he said.

  Ella laughed.

  "Yes, I see," she answered. "But, by the by, I wonder you never sawthem before. They belonged to your sis--no, she couldn't have been yoursister--what was she to you, then, Clarice Cheynes?" and she glanced upin his face with a little frown of perplexity on her own.

  A light broke over Philip's.

  "They were _hers_!" he exclaimed, "and poor granny disinterred them foryou to dance in!"

  "I am her godchild," Ella replied, rearing her head a little as shespoke.

  "Of course. I only meant, what I am sure you think too, that it wasvery good of her. People are sometimes more selfish about feelings ofthat kind than about anything else. No--I never saw the slippersbefore, but I know that granny has a room where she treasures up all thelittle possessions of my aunt--who never was my aunt--Clarice."

  "Did she die before you were born then?" asked Ella.

  "Yes--she died the year my father and mother were married, and I was nottheir eldest child," said Sir Philip, "though all the others died asbabies."

  They were near the house by this time. Ella looked up dubiously.

  "Perhaps you will get on your horse again now," she said, "and ride upto the door. My sisters are expecting you, I know--perhaps you willtell them of having met me, and found out who I was."

  "Will you not tell them yourself?" he said.

  "No, I am going round the other way, behind the house. I have no longerany interest in watching for the groom," Ella replied, "and I wouldrather you told my sisters, please." She hesitated a little--"They,Madelene, might be a little annoyed, at--at my having been at the lodge,and all that."

  Philip looked surprised.

  "I don't think that is at all the sort of thing to vex Maddie," he said."Indeed it is rather in Ermine's own line, I should say."

  But Ella still looked doubtful, and hurried off, half smiling, but witha gesture that implied her preference for not making one at theforthcoming interview.

  Philip mounted and rode up, _en regle_, to the door, where, in answer tohis inquiries, he was told that Miss St Quentin was at home and in thelibrary.

  There, sure enough, he found his elder cousin. She started up as hecame in.

  "Oh, Philip, that's right," she exclaimed. "We were just hoping youwould come before luncheon. It is so nice to have you at home again,"she added affectionately.

  "It is nice to _be_ home again," he replied, as he went up to the fireand stood warming his hands at the blaze. Then there fell a littlesilence.

  "Madelene," said Sir Philip at last, "you haven't yet introduced me toyou sister Ella."

  "No," Miss St Quentin replied, "there has not yet been any opportunityfor my doing so," she was beginning, when she suddenly and unaccountablystopped. "If you will ring, Philip," she said, "I will send to tellboth Ermine and Ella to come."

  But Philip did not move towards the bell.

  "I don't want them to come just yet," he said. "I want to talk to you alittle first. And besides, Ella is out."

  "Ella out," repeated Madelene, looking up and changing colour slightly.Her manner seemed rather constrained and nervous. "How do you know?"her glance at him said.

  Philip smiled.

  "Yes," he said, "I know what you are looking so `funny' about, Maddie,as we used to say when we were children. You cannot sham the very leastbit in the world; you never could, you know. Yes--I have met Ella, andthe mysti
fication is at an end. But by Jove what it ever began for, Icannot imagine. Will you not enlighten me?"

  Miss St Quentin grew more and more uneasy.

  "No," she said, "I can't. It--it was a freak of Ermine's, and Aunt Annatook it up and joined in it, so _I_ could not oppose it, though to tellyou the truth I never liked it. Of course _at the beginning_ it wasaltogether accidental; we had no idea--Ermie and I, I mean--of AuntAnna's getting papa to let Ella go to the ball--we had