Philippa

by Mrs. Molesworth

arrangementwill be settled. But talking of roast larks or roast anything, have youdined, Bernard?"

  Mr Gresham nodded.

  "Yes, thank you, all right. I had something at my club early, on my wayhere. Have _you_ dined?"

  Just then there came a scratching at the door.

  "Yes," said Michael, as he got up to open it. "I take my mealsdown-stairs. That's one thing I can't stand, eating and working in thesame room. And Solomon," as the dachshund walked in solemnly, "Solomonhas dined too, but he stays behind for a nap."

  Bernard eyed the dog with a smile that was not all amiability.

  "Really, Michael," he observed, "you are too ridiculous about thatanimal."

  "Was that all you had to say to me?" said Michael, carelessly. He knewhis cousin quite well enough to be sure that there was some specialreason for his visit, a reason which it was not altogether easy toexpress, for he was conscious that Bernard was beating about the bush.

  "No," Mr Gresham replied, with a touch of sharpness, "it was not all.I want to ask your advice. But besides that, you have no reason, Mike,to say or to think that I am indifferent about you. I did want to knowhow you were getting on."

  "All right, old fellow. I have never said or thought that you wereindifferent," Michael answered, and his smile was frank and cordial."But what is it that you want to consult me about? You are not thinkingof getting married, are you?"

  "I don't know," was the reply.

  Michael looked at him keenly.

  "That means, I should say, that you are," he said.

  In his turn, Bernard fixed his eyes on his cousin.

  "What makes you think so? Have you heard any gossip about it?"

  "I don't know if you would call it gossip or not. I have heard that youseemed--well, a good deal struck by some one you met at Cannes. But youneed not mind about it; it came round to me in the most innocent way,though I cannot tell you how."

  In point of fact, Michael's informant was his old nurse, who hadmentioned in a letter to him some allusions which Mrs MarmadukeHeadfort had allowed herself to make, in her confidential talks with thehousekeeper, to Mr Gresham's admiration for her sister. But nocomments, for or against, had been added by Mrs Shepton.

  Bernard did not appear annoyed.

  "Oh, at _Cannes_," he repeated. "It is a nest of gossip about theEnglish visitors, like all those places. And possibly," he went on moreslowly, "there was some little ground for it."

  "Then you need not trouble to tell me the young lady's name," saidMichael, quickly, "which, to my mind, is always preferable in suchcircumstances. But taking that for known, what is it you want toconsult me about? How can you--" He stopped short.

  "Perhaps she has given you no encouragement to go further?"

  A shade of irritation darkened Bernard's face.

  "On the contrary--" he began. Then he, too, stopped short. He had nowish to pose as a _fat_, even to Michael. "We need not enter into thatpart of it," he said, composedly. "The thing is this, and, as you likeplain speaking, you must not turn upon me, and call me coarse, orunchivalrous, or anything of that kind--the facts are these: I leftCannes all but decided in my own mind to--to--well, to go through withit. But circumstances delayed my return home, or, rather I should say,my return to my usual life. I was so busy about that canvassingbusiness. And, on the whole, I thought it was just as well; I wanted tothink it all over. Well, soon I was at leisure again; one day inLondon, when I was just considering how best to proceed, _not_ havingcooled upon it, I met some people you too know. The Worthings."

  Michael crushed up a sheet of paper lying on the table by his hand.

  "Indeed," he said. "And what about that? Has Mrs Worthing notrelinquished her hopes for the fair Aline--poor little soul--and is shewaxing spiteful?"

  "She is far too clever to _show_ her spite, whether she feels it ornot," said Mr Gresham. "And she is too cautious to state anythingdistinctly untrue. I can't make it out. With all reasonable allowancefor her--well, spitefulness is as good a word as any--I cannotunderstand her saying what she has done, unless--unless she has somefacts to back her?"

  "What did she say?" asked Michael, and he threw the ball of crushedpaper into the fire, with a sort of fierceness.

  "She said--" began Bernard. Then he got up and walked up and down theroom. "Upon my soul," he went on, "it's awfully difficult to tell. Itwas so vague--just enough to be horribly annoying and upsetting, and--"

  "People have no right--no right whatever--to be vague inmischief-making," said Michael, angrily. "And mischief-making I inferthat it was. She spoke `vaguely' against Miss--no, I won't name her.Why, in heaven's name, did you not bring the woman to book?"

  "How could I?" replied his cousin. "Don't get so excited, Mike. ByJove! what a Don Quixote you are still! How could I bring her to book,as you say, without seeming to give credence to her hints? The verything she would have liked. Of course, my only role was to treat whatshe said with absolute indifference, as an absurd mistake. I could seethat my doing so riled her. Besides, you would not have had me let hersee that, mistake or no mistake, I took any special interest in Miss--inthe person concerned?"

  "No. I see what you mean," said Michael, consideringly. "It would havebeen very wrong, seeing that you had _not_ quite made up your mind; verywrong for _her_ sake." And again he eyed his cousin keenly.

  Bernard gave a movement of impatience.

  "It would have been very disagreeable for _myself_," he said. "Iwouldn't allow that woman to think any chatter or warnings of _hers_ hadinfluenced me. I don't say--candidly to you in confidence--I don't saybut what they did, for I believe I had made up my mind to go throughwith it."

  "Then, upon my soul," said Michael, sharply, "I don't understand you.You--you care for this girl; you love her or are in love with her, andyou would let the poisonous tongue of a thorough-going, scheming womanlike Mrs Worthing deter you from what you call going through with it,when you know her motive too! By Jove! Bernard, if you are fool enoughto play into her hands, and I see you some fine day married to poorlittle Aline, you need not come to me to complain of yourmother-in-law."

  Bernard flushed crimson.

  "You are going too far, Michael," he said. "To begin with, I have noright to impute the motive you do, nor to impugn Mrs Worthing'struthfulness. It is possible her motives are sincere and disinterested.It is not inconceivable that she may have some friendly feeling forme."

  "It is conceivable that she is clever enough to make you think so,"muttered Michael. Then, after a moment's silence. "But, after all," hesaid, suddenly, "what _did_ she say? All through this conversation youhave put off telling me."

  "You never asked distinctly," said his cousin. "I began by telling youit was vague--vague, and so extraordinary; so--upon the face ofit--_absurd_, that I--I scarcely know how to make you take itseriously." Michael laughed, but it was somewhat forcedly.

  "You are really a good deal of an idiot, Bernard. But go on, the moreabsurd the better."

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

  CIRCUMSTANCES.

  "I can't give you her precise words," said Mr Gresham. "And I don'tthink what she said was exactly premeditated. We were talking aboutCannes and the people there--it was, in fact, the first time I had seenthe Worthings since meeting them there, and I have not seen them again.Something was said about the Lermonts, and Mrs Worthing expressed hersurprise at finding that the--the Raynsworths were cousins of theirs.She `had never heard of them before; who were they? it seemed oddsomehow.' I reminded her that Mrs Marmaduke Headfort was a MissRaynsworth, and that the young lady of the same name was her sister.And to my amazement, what do you think the woman said next?"

  Michael murmured something unintelligible. Bernard proceeded:

  "She looked at me curiously, and said, `Ah, that is just it--_is_ sheher sister?' I stared, naturally, and then said, carelessly, `Do youmean that they are only half-sisters? Possibly so, though I scarcelythink it; they are not the least like each o
ther, however.' She agreed,and if no more had been said I daresay I should have thought no moreabout it. But I saw by Mrs Worthing's manner that there was somethingmore to come, and so, as at the bottom of my heart I _was_ interested, Isaid nothing to turn the subject or to shut her up."

  "H-m," said Michael.

  "She hesitated, and then she began again. `No,' she said, `I was notthinking of their being only half-sisters, but sisters at all. There issomething odd about that family, Mr Gresham, mark my words. I know asa fact--as a fact--that