been left by herself for a fewmoments, to recover her composure and think over the disagreeable shockshe had just received. For the brave front she had put upon it was onlyin appearance; in reality she was miserably upset.
"You are looking very pale, Miss Raynsworth," said Mr Gresham. "Areyou tired? Pray don't dance if you would rather sit quietly and rest."
"No, thank you," Philippa replied. "I would rather dance," which, underthe circumstances--"sitting out" only meaning a _tete-a-tete_ with herpartner--was certainly true. "I am really not tired," she went on,"though I have been dancing so energetically as to tear my dress, yousaw?"
"That was that clumsy Delmaine's fault," he replied. "I saw how ithappened. I was waiting to catch you as you came back from thecloak-room. It is all right now, I suppose?" with a glance at herskirts. It would have annoyed him to find himself entangled in hispartner's torn flounces before the whole ball-room!
"Oh, yes," she replied. "I got it mended by one of the maids in thecloak-room."
The word--or was it an unconscious intuition of what was passing in thegirl's mind?--caught Mr Gresham's ear.
"Oh, by-the-by," he said, "I wanted to ask you something. Do give meleave to speak to Mrs Worthing about that insolent maid of hers. Ireally think she must be insane. I cannot forget about it, and I do notthink such a thing should be allowed to pass."
Philippa smiled--had Mr Gresham been more discriminating, her smilewould have struck him as a very bitter one.
"Oh, dear," she said, "I wonder at your remembering about that absurdthing. Surely it should be treated as beneath contempt."
Mr Gresham looked dissatisfied.
"You might understand," he said, speaking in a lower tone of voice, andwith something of reproach, "You might understand how inexpressiblyannoying it was to me for anything of the kind to happen to _you_; aboveall, when you were in the position of my guest."
He glanced at her with a kind of delicate inquiry in her eyes, and theaccent on the pronoun made Philippa's cheeks flush.
"Don't mind about it, I beg of you," she said, earnestly. "Promise meyou will not mention it to Mrs Worthing. I scarcely know her at all,and--and--she might not be nice about it. You have been so kind," shewent on; "you have done so much to add to the pleasure of my time here,that I should hate to think it could be associated with anythingdisagreeable. Please promise me," she repeated, in conclusion.
He smiled.
"I am afraid I should find it difficult not to promise you anything youliked to ask," he said. "Well, then, we will let the matter drop. I amso glad, so delighted that you have enjoyed your visit here; and if Ihave in the very least added to your amusement, as you so kindly say, Ineed scarcely assure you that I am repaid a thousandfold."
Then he went on to speak, in his most attractive way, of meeting againin England; of Evelyn and her husband; of "Charley," whom he had heardof and would be so pleased to meet; exerting himself so tactfully totalk of the things which he knew interested her the most, that Philippaforgot the painful shock she had experienced, or only recalled it tomake light of her own exaggerated fears.
"After all," she said to herself, "at the very worst I did nothingwrong, nothing really to feel ashamed of. And if--if I were ever to getto know Mr Gresham better--really very well indeed, I could make himunderstand it all. Even that rough, surly Michael was kind about it,and Bernard is infinitely gentler and less harsh judging than he. No; Ineed not be unhappy." And that night when she passed Maida's room, ofwhich the door was slightly ajar, and heard Miss Lermont's voice saying,softly:
"Philippa, dear, is that you? Have you enjoyed yourself?" she answeredbrightly, as she went in for a moment:
"Enjoyed myself? I should think so. I have never been so happy in mylife."
The words and tone gave Miss Lermont much subject for thought. Was thisto be the girl's fate, then? Was she destined to be one of the favouredfew to whom the good things of life come almost before life has reallybegun? Was it to be a case of "true love running smooth," one of theexceptions to prove the rule? It looked like it. And in the eyes ofthe world--and that not of the thoroughly "worldly" world either--such amarriage for Philippa Raynsworth would be not only brilliant, butexcellent in every possible way.
"Yet," thought Maida to herself, "yet, _is_ he really good enough forher?"
Forty-eight hours after the ball saw Mr Raynsworth and his daughterstarted on their journey home.
CHAPTER NINETEEN.
GOOD NEWS.
"Well, mother," said Evelyn Headfort, one morning, a fortnight or soafter the return of the two wanderers to Greenleaves, "I hope you aresatisfied _now_ that it was not my fancy about Mr Gresham? I have notsaid anything hitherto about it. I thought I would wait till you couldjudge for yourself; but I am sure you have had time to hear everythingPhil has to tell by this."
"But," began Mrs Raynsworth, "if there were anything of that kind totell, Philippa would be more likely to tell nothing."
She smiled a little at her own rather "Irish" way of expressing herself.
"Of course, mother dear," said Evelyn, with a touch of impatience. "Ofcourse I know that. What I mean is, that you can _judge_. I don'tdream for a moment that she is the sort of girl to tell even _you_ ofthe conquests she has made. But to me--and I don't suppose Philippa hassaid as much to me as to you. I have been so busy, you see, gettingready for Wyverston," for the Marmaduke Headforts were on the eve ofstarting for a visit to the north, "and Duke wanting me every twominutes--but even judging by what she has said to _me_, I feel no doubtabout it whatever. It is in her own hands. He fell in love with herthat first afternoon at Dorriford. I shall always say so."
"Well, time will show," replied Mrs Raynsworth. She seemed slightlynervous, or rather disinclined to discuss the subject. But Evelyn,though a little disappointed, was not suspicious of there being anyother reason for her mother's reticence than Mrs Raynsworth's extreme,perhaps exaggerated delicacy.
"I don't know about that," she replied. "There are ways and means of_preventing_ `time's showing.' It does not do to be a fatalist in suchmatters, any more than in any others, mamma. If Phil chooses to--well,to discourage its going any further, either actively or tacitly, nothingis easier than for a girl to discourage a man; no one will ever believethere was anything in it! At least no one would ever be sure that therehad been. I do not call that `time's showing;' _I_ should call itgirl's perversity."
Mrs Raynsworth hesitated.
"I think you can trust Philippa," she said. "There is not a touch of aflirt or coquette about her. If she had real grounds for believing thatany man she felt _she_ could care for, cared for her, she would behavewith simplicity and straightforwardness, I am sure."
"Perhaps she would," rejoined Mrs Headfort, "but how about what youcall `real grounds?' Short of putting it into so many words, I doubt ifshe ever _would_ believe it, and till she did, she would be tacitlydiscouraging without meaning it, and then the `so many words' wouldnever come! It is a vicious circle, when you have to deal with any oneso fantastic as Phil." And to herself she added, "And I do believemamma rather encourages it in her. They are both too impracticable."
Poor Evelyn, she was feeling put out. For she had, to tell the truth,been putting considerable restraint on herself not to cross-question hersister. And she had only refrained from doing so in the hope of beingrewarded by a good comfortable "talk over" of the whole affair with hermother before leaving for Wyverston.
And Mrs Raynsworth understood her perfectly, and was sorry for herdisappointment. But there was another motive for her ownuncommunicativeness. Philippa had told her _all_ that had happened--thelast annoying "rencontre" with the maid, Bailey, as well as the first.And the mother's heart was sore--sorer than she would for worlds haveallowed Philippa to suspect. Was this miserable piece of girlish follynever to be forgotten? Was it to cloud her daughter's life andprospects always? For Mrs Raynsworth knew the world and society muchbetter than might have been supposed from h
er present quiet and almostisolated life. Her youth had been spent in a very different _milieu_from the simple though refined home which was all that her scholarlyhusband was able to give her. And she knew how the least breath ofanything against a girl--any, even harmless, piece of fun orthoughtlessness may be magnified or distorted--above all, where there isany element of spite or jealousy present--into grotesque, but none theless fatally damaging proportions.
"I almost wish," thought Philippa's mother, "that I had not made herpromise never to tell the
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