_not_ too much time for a good night; it is getting very late,and if we go on talking you will never get to sleep."
Evelyn was well-trained by this time; she made but faint resistance toher sister's ultimatum.
Of the two it was certainly Philippa who found the greater difficulty ingetting to sleep that night, and long before the dawn broke, she waswide awake again, revolving in her own mind the whole tormentingquestion of what to do, and how to do it.
"Or, after all," said she to herself, "might it not be safer to leavethings alone, and do nothing?"
CHAPTER ELEVEN.
A COLD NOSE.
Things if left alone often do shape themselves.
Philippa had come to no decision as to the best course to pursue, whenfurther revelations from Evelyn intensified her alarm.
"Philippa," she began, the very next afternoon. "I don't understandthat Michael Gresham, and I almost think I dislike him as much as I likehis cousin. Of course I have always thought him rough and abrupt, butthat he is to every one, more or less. But now there is something inhis manner to me almost indescribable--well, not exactly offensive, thatis too strong a word, but approaching it--a sort of tacit disapproval,that I really cannot stand from a young man like that, who has nothingwhatever to do with me. I would not stand it if he were my brother; Ifeel as if I should have an open quarrel with him before long if it goeson!"
Philippa felt cold with apprehension.
"Don't talk of such a thing, _Evey_," she said; "your first visit here,and the Greshams such old friends of these people! Nothing could bemore disagreeable. You don't mean to say that he has ever been actuallyrude to you?"
"No, nothing actually tangible. But he looks at me, especially when Iam talking to his cousin, in a sort of hard, questioning way, as if hewould like to pull me up for everything I was saying. At luncheonto-day Mr Gresham alluded again to the visit we are to pay him. He wasasking about when I expect Duke back, and he turned to Michael with someremark about the shooting--I forget what, exactly--in connection withour going there, and the horrid young man scarcely answered. He was asgruff as anything."
"But that was more rude to his cousin than to you," said Philippa.
Evelyn shook her head.
"No, it had to do with me. I think Mr Gresham noticed it, in fact I amsure he did, for afterwards I saw them together as I was crossing thehall, and I think I heard Mr Gresham calling him a bear, or a boor, I'mnot sure which."
There was no time for more just then, as Evelyn was going out for adrive with Mrs Headfort, and the summons came, before her sister hadtime to do more than repeat one little word of warning, as MrsMarmaduke flew off. But once she found herself alone, whilemechanically occupying herself in arranging Evelyn's things with herusual deft carefulness, the poor girl's thoughts were by no means to beenvied. Things _were_ coming to a crisis, thanks to her sister'sinnocent indiscretion and that--yes, she could join with Evelyn incalling him "that horrid young man"--that horrid young man's impertinentinterference; for that he was about to interfere she felt convinced,though as yet he could scarcely be said to have done so.
"And if," thought Philippa, "he thinks it his duty--officious peoplealways think things their duty--to warn his cousins that we are acting apart and deceiving others, who knows what may come of it? Poor Eveywill in one sense suffer more than I, and it will be _all_ my doing! Imay have ruined everything for them by my recklessness and self-will."
She sat down beside the window in a state very nearly bordering ondespair. She dared not let herself cry, though to one of hertemperament the very rarity of her tears made them the greater relief.
"What can I do?" she repeated, and wild ideas chased each other throughher brain as to the possibility of telegraphing to her mother to summonthem home at once, or of an appeal, however repugnant to every feeling,to Michael Gresham to--nay, what could she say to him, without givinghim her full confidence? and that, she scarcely felt that it would bepossible to do. Of all men she had ever met, as far as she could judge,he seemed the last in any way likely to understand or to sympathise withthe motives which had led her to act as she had done. Indeed, no _man_,she said to herself, could enter into all the feelings, some of them soapparently trivial and frivolous, which had actuated her.
"And a man like him least of all," she thought. "One can see that heprides himself on excessive honesty and straightforwardness. No doubthe could be very good at saying disagreeable things from the best ofmotives, and he could be quite incapable of entering into shades offeeling, he is so rough. Now if it had been his cousin who was inquestion--oh, it would have been quite different! He must be so refinedand delicate in perception."
She gave a deep sigh. Her eyes turned mechanically to the window, andshe gazed out half vacantly. The afternoon was very still, and the greysky in any other part of the world would almost certainly haveprognosticated rain. But Philippa was learning her bearings better bynow in this northern country, where the greyness often meant nothingspecial as regarded the weather.
The wind had been high the night before, and the trees almost looked asif winter had already come, the paths being thickly strewn with theirdiscarded vesture.
A little shiver passed through the girl.
"It does look dreary," she thought, for her window overlooked some ofthe back premises, where no gardener's broom had as yet tidied up thetraces of the wind's undoing. One corner of the great stable-yard wasvisible, and as Philippa still looked out, the silence was broken by asound she loved to hear, the eager barking of a huge watch-dog, whom shehad already made friends with in her rambles about the place.
"I hope they are going to loose him," she thought, with interest,craning her neck to see what was happening.
Just at that moment she caught sight of Mrs Shepton's slight and stillerect figure, as she made her way back to the house, and a suddensuggestion flashed into the girl's mind.
"I believe it is the only thing to do," she said to herself. "She maybe able to ask him what I cannot and will not ask for myself," for bythis time Philippa had learnt something of the relations existingbetween Michael Gresham and the housekeeper, though the latter had beenscrupulously careful to avoid anything approaching to gossip about theyoung man whom she was still so devoted to.
Without giving herself time to reconsider what she was about to do,Philippa, pale with suppressed nervousness, hurried down-stairs in hopesof catching Mrs Shepton on her entrance to the house. In this shesucceeded, for in answer to her tap at the door of the housekeeper'sroom, its owner's voice replied, "Come in."
"Are you alone?" said Philippa, glancing round, "and can you spare me afew minutes? Mrs Shepton, I am in such trouble, and I promised you toask your advice, if need arose."
The housekeeper glanced at her anxiously. The girl had been greatly inher thoughts the last few days, though she had not seen much of her, forit had seemed to her that she was looking ill and careworn, unless,indeed, her own eyes had been sharpened by the younger Mr Gresham'scommunications.
"Sit down, my dear," she said, kindly.
Philippa obeyed her at once. Indeed, now that she was within theshelter of the kind woman's own little sanctum, and felt the protectionof her motherly tone and words, a reaction, not unnaturally, from theconstraint she had been putting upon herself, set in. She trembled sothat she could scarcely have stood a moment longer, and when she beganto speak, her voice entirely failed her and she burst into tears.
Mrs Shepton felt positively alarmed, but she spoke calmly.
"Try to be composed, my dear," she said, still more kindly than before,"otherwise you will not be able to tell me what is wrong. Will you havea glass of water? I have some here which is as cold as ice."
The girl made a little sign in the affirmative, and when she had drunkthe water, she was able to some extent to check her sobs.
"Now tell me," said Mrs Shepton, "tell me all about it. Have you hadbad news? No, it can't be that, for I have seen you twice since theletters came, an
d you did not seem upset. Is Mrs Marmaduke vexed withyou for anything? You must not take it so to heart, if it is that; I amsure she is a kind--"
But before she got further in these suggestions of consolation,something in their nature suddenly struck her as strangely discrepantwith the whole look and even attitude of the young girl before her. Thedisguising spectacles were discarded--the handkerchief with whichPhilippa was brushing away her tears was of the finest cambric, with amonogram beautifully worked in one corner--the whole pose of the figure,even in its abandonment of distress, was full of grace and refinement.It did not require Philippa's shake of the head, accompaniedinvoluntarily by a faint little smile, to bring home to the housekeeperthat Michael Gresham had been right in the opinion he had expressed
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