X
THE QUEEN'S SQUARE ACADEMY FOR YOUNG LADIES
Miss Sibson sat in state in her parlour in Queen's Square. Rather moredignified of mien than usual, and more highly powdered of nose, theschoolmistress was dividing her attention between the culprit in thecorner, the elms outside--between which fledgeling rooks were makingadventurous voyages--and the longcloth which she was preparing for theyoung ladies' plain-sewing; for in those days plain-sewing was stilltaught in the most select academies. Nor, while she was thus engagedin providing for the domestic training of her charges, was she withoutassurance that their minds were under care. The double doors whichseparated the schoolroom from the parlour were ajar, and through theaperture one shrill voice after another could be heard, raised inmonotonous perusal of Mrs. Chapone's "Letters to a Young Lady upon theImprovement of the Mind."
Miss Sibson wore her best dress, of black silk, secured half-way downthe bodice by the large cameo brooch. But neither this nor the readingin the next room could divert her attention from her duties.
"The tongue," she enunciated with great clearness, as she raised thelongcloth in both hands and carefully inspected it over her glasses,"is an unruly member. Ill-nature," she continued, slowly meting off aportion, and measuring a second portion against it, "is the fruit of abad heart. Our opinions of others"--this with a stern look at MissHilhouse, fourteen years old, and in disgrace--"are the reflections ofourselves."
The young lady, who was paying with the backboard for a too ready wit,put out the unruly member, and, narrowly escaping detection, lookedinconceivably sullen.
"The face is the mirror to the mind," Miss Sibson continuedthoughtfully, as she threaded a needle against the light. "I hope,Miss Hilhouse, that you are now sorry for your fault."
Miss Hilhouse maintained a stolid silence. Her shoulders ached, butshe was proud.
"Very good," said Miss Sibson placidly; "very good! With time comesreflection."
Time, a mere minute, brought more than reflection. A gentleman walkedquickly across the fore-court to the door, the knocker fell sharply,and Miss Hilhouse's sullenness dropped from her. She looked firstuncomfortable, then alarmed. "Please, may I go now?" she muttered.
Wise Miss Sibson paid no heed. "A gentleman?" she said to the maid whohad entered. "Will I see him? Procure his name."
"Oh, Miss Sibson," came from the corner in an agonised whisper,"please may I go?" Fourteen standing on a stool with a backboard couldnot bear to be seen by the other sex.
Miss Sibson looked grave. "Are you sincerely sorry for your fault?"she asked.
"Yes."
"And will you apologise to Miss Smith for your--your gross rudeness?"
"Ye-es."
"Then go and do so," Miss Sibson replied; "and close the doors afteryou."
The girl fled. And simultaneously Miss Sibson rose, with a mixture ofdignity and blandness, to receive Arthur Vaughan. The schoolmistressof that day who had not manner at command had nothing; for deportmentranked among the essentials. And she was quite at her case. The samecould not be said of the gentleman. But that his pride still smarted,but that the outrage of yesterday was fresh, but that he drew a savagesatisfaction from the prospect of the apologies he was here toreceive, he had not come. Even so, he had told himself more than oncethat he was a fool to come; a fool to set foot in the house. He wasalmost sure that he had done more wisely had he burned the letter inwhich the schoolmistress informed him that she had an explanation tooffer--and so had made an end.
But if in place of meeting him with humble apologies, this confoundedwoman were going to bear herself as if no amends were due, he hadindeed made a mistake.
Yet her manner said almost as much as that. "Pray be seated, sir," shesaid; and she indicated a chair.
He sat down stiffly, and glowered at her. "I received your note," hesaid.
She smoothed her ample lap, and looked at him more graciously. "Yes,"she said, "I was relieved to find that the unfortunate occurrence ofyesterday was open to another explanation."
"I have yet," he said curtly, "to hear the explanation." Confound thewoman's impudence!
"Exactly," she said slowly. "Exactly. Well, it turns out that theparcel you left behind you when you"--for an instant a smile broke therubicund placidity of her face--"when you retired so hurriedlycontained a pelisse."
"Indeed?" he said drily.
"Yes; and a letter."
"Oh?"
"Yes; a letter from a lady who has for some years taken an interest inMiss Smith. The pelisse proved to be a gift from her."
"Then I fail to see----"
"Exactly," Miss Sibson interposed blandly, indeed too blandly. "Youfail to see why you came to be selected as the bearer? So do I.Perhaps you can explain that."
"No," he answered shortly. "Nor is that my affair. What I fail to see,Madam, is why Miss Smith did not at once suspect that the present camefrom the lady in question."
"Because," Miss Sibson replied, "the lady was not known to be in thispart of England; and because you, sir, maintained that Miss Smith hadleft the parcel in the coach."
"I maintained what I was told."
"But it was not the fact. However, let that pass."
"No," Vaughan retorted, with some warmth. "For it seems to me, Madam,very extraordinary that in a matter which was capable of so simple anexplanation you should have elected to insult a stranger--a strangerwho----"
"Who was performing no more than an office of civility, you wouldsay?"
"Precisely."
"Well--yes." Miss Sibson spoke slowly, and was silent for a momentafter she had spoken. Then, somewhat abruptly, "You are an usher, Ithink," she said, "at Mr. Bengough's?"
Vaughan almost jumped in his chair. "I, Madam?" he cried. "Certainlynot!"
"Not at Mr. Bengough's?"
"Certainly not!" he repeated, with indignation. Was the woman mad? Anusher? Good heavens!
"I know your name," she said slowly. "But----"
"I came from London the day before yesterday. I am staying at theWhite Lion, and I am late of the 14th Dragoons."
She raised her eyebrows. "Oh, indeed," she said. "Is that so? Well,"rubbing a little of the powder from her nose with a needlecase, andlooking at him very shrewdly, "I think," she continued, "that that isthe answer to your question."
Vaughan stared.
"I do not understand you," he said.
"Then I must speak more plainly. Were you an usher at Mr. Bengough'syour civility--civility, I think you called it?--to my assistant hadpassed very well, Mr. Vaughan. But the civility of a gentleman, lateof the 14th Dragoons, fresh from London, and staying at the WhiteLion, to a young person in Miss Smith's position is apt, as in thiscase--eh?--to lead to misconstruction."
"You do me an injustice!" he said, reddening to the roots of his hair.
"Possibly, possibly," Miss Sibson said. But on that, without warning,she gave way to a fit of silent laughter, which caused her portly formto shake like a jelly. It was a habit with her, attributed by some toher private view of Mrs. Chapone's famous letters on the improvementof the mind; by others, to that knowledge of the tricks and turns ofher sex with which thirty years of schoolkeeping had endowed her.
No doubt the face of rueful resentment with which Arthur Vaughanregarded her did not shorten the fit. But at last, "Young gentleman,"she said, "you do not deceive me! You did not come here to-day merelyto hear an old woman make an apology."
He tried to maintain an attitude of dignified surprise. But her jollylaugh, her shrewd red face were too much for him. His eyes fell. "Uponmy honour," he said, "I meant nothing."
She shook with fresh laughter. "It is just of that I complain, sir,"she said.
"You can trust me."
"I can trust Miss Smith," she retorted, shaking her head. "Her I know,though our acquaintance is of the shortest. Still, I know her from topto toe. You, young gentleman, I don't know. Mind," she continued, withgood-
nature, "I don't say that you meant any harm when you cameto-day. But I'll wager you thought that you'd see her."
Vaughan laughed out frankly. Her humour had conquered him. "Well," hesaid audaciously, "and am I not to see her?"
Miss Sibson looked at him, and rubbed a little more powder from hernose. "Umph!" she said doubtfully. "If I knew you I'd know what to sayto that. A pretty girl, eh?" she added with her head on one side.
He smiled.
"And a good one! And if you were the usher at Mr. Bengough's I'd askno more, but I'd send for her. But----"
She stopped. Vaughan said nothing, but a little out of countenancelooked at the floor.
"Just so, just so," Miss Sibson said, as quietly as if he had answeredher. "Well, I am afraid I must not send for her."
He looked at the carpet. "I have seen so little of her," he said.
"And I daresay you are a man of property?"
"I am independent."
"Well, well, there it is." Miss Sibson smoothed out the lap of hersilk dress.
"I do not think," he said, in some embarrassment, "that five minutes'talk would hurt her."
"Umph!"
He laughed--an awkward laugh. "Come, Miss Sibson," he said. "Let ushave the five minutes, and let us both have the chance."
She looked out of the window, and rubbed her glasses reflectively."Well," she said at length, as if she had not quite made up her mind,"I will be quite frank with you, Mr. Vaughan. I did not intend to beso, but you have met me half-way, and I believe you to be a gentleman.The truth is, I should not have gone as far with you as I haveunless"--she looked at him suddenly--"I had had a character of you."
"Of me?" he cried in astonishment.
"Yes."
"From Miss Smith?"
Miss Sibson smiled at his simplicity. "Oh, no," she said; "you aregoing to see the character." And with that the schoolmistress drewfrom her workbox a small slip of paper, which she unfolded and gave tohim. "It is from the lady," she said, "who made use of you yesterday."
He took it in much astonishment. On the inner side of the paper, whichwas faintly scented, he read a dozen words in a fine handwriting:
"Mary Smith, from her fairy godmother. The bearer may be trusted."
Vaughan stared at the paper in undiminished surprise. "I don'tunderstand," he said. "Who is the lady, and what does she know of me?"
"I cannot tell you, nor can Miss Smith," Miss Sibson replied. "Who,indeed, has seen her only twice or thrice, at long intervals, and hasnot heard her name. But Miss Smith's education--she has never knownher parents--was defrayed, I presume, by this godmother. And once ayear Miss Smith has been in the habit of receiving a gift, of somevalue to a young person in her position, accompanied by a few words inthat handwriting."
Vaughan stared. "And," he said, "you draw the inferencethat--that----"
"I draw no inference," Miss Sibson replied drily, "save that I haveauthority from--shall I say her godmother--to trust you farther than Ishould have trusted you. That is the only inference I draw. But I haveone thing to add," she continued. "Miss Smith did not enter myemployment in an ordinary way. My late assistant left me abruptly.While I was at a loss an attorney of character in this city called onme and said that a client desired to place a young person in safehands; that she was a trained teacher, and must live by teaching, butthat care was necessary, since she was very young, and had more thanher share of good looks. He hinted, Mr. Vaughan, at the inferencewhich you, I believe, have already drawn. And--and that is all."
Vaughan looked thoughtfully at the carpet.
Miss Sibson waited awhile. At last: "The point is," she said shrewdly,"do you still wish to have the five minutes?"
Arthur Vaughan hesitated. He knew that he ought, that it was his duty,to say "No." But something in the woman's humorous eye challenged him,and recklessly--for the gratification of a moment--he said: "Yes, ifyou please, I will see her."
"Very good, very good," Miss Sibson answered slowly. She had not beenblind to the momentary hesitation. "Then I will send her to you tomake her apologies. Only be kind enough to remember that she does notknow that you have seen that slip of paper."
He assented, and with a good-natured nod Miss Sibson rose and wentheavily from the room. Not for nothing was she held in Bristol a womanof sagacity, whose game of whist it was a pleasure to watch; norwithout reason had that attorney of character, of whom we have heard,chosen 'her _in custodiam puellae_.
Vaughan waited, and to be frank, his heart beat more quickly thanusual. He knew that he was doing a foolish thing, though he hadrefused to commit himself; and an unworthy thing, though Miss Sibson,perhaps for her own reasons, had winked at it. He knew that he had noright to see the girl if he did not mean her well; and how could hemean her well when he had no intention of marrying her? For, for a manwith his career in prospect to marry a girl in her position--to saynothing of the stigma which no doubt lay upon her birth--was a follyof which none but boys and old men were capable.
He listened, ill at ease, already repenting. The voices in the nextroom, reduced to a faint murmur by the closed doors, ceased. She wasbeing told. She was being sent to him. He coloured. Yes, he wasashamed of himself. He rose and went to the window, and wished that hehad said "No"; that he had taken himself off. What was he doing hereat his time of life--the most sane and best balanced time of life--inthis girls' school? It was unworthy of him.
The door opened, and he forgot his unworthiness, he forgot all. Theabnormal attraction, allurement, charm, call it what you will, whichhad overcome him when she turned her eyes on him on the coach overcamehim again--and tenfold. He thought that it must lie in her eyes,gentle as a dove's. And yet he did not know. He had not seen herindoors before, and her hair gathered in a knot at the back of herhead was a Greek surprise to him; while her blushes, the quivering ofher mouth, her figure slender but full of grace, and high-girdledafter the mode of the day--all, all were so perfect, so enticing, thathe knew not where the magic lay.
But magic there was. And such magic that though he had preparedhimself, and though the last thing in his thoughts was to insult her,he forgot himself. As she paused, her hand still resting on the door,her face downcast and distressed, "Good G--d," he cried, "howbeautiful you are!"
And she saw that he meant no insult, that the words burst from himspontaneously. But not the less for that was their effect on her. Sheturned white, her very heart seeming to stop, she appeared to be aboutto swoon. While he, forgetting all but her shrinking beauty, devouredher with his eyes.
Until he remembered himself. Then he turned from her to the window."Forgive me!" he cried. "I did not know what I said. You came on me sosuddenly; you looked so beautiful----"
He stopped; he could not go on.
And she was trembling from head to foot; but she made an effort toescape back to the commonplace. "I came," she stammered--it was clearthat she hardly knew what she was saying--"Miss Sibson told me to cometo say that I--I was sorry, sir, that I--I misjudged you yesterday."
"Yesterday? Yesterday?" he cried, almost angrily. "Bah, it is an agesince yesterday!"
She could make no answer to that, though she knew well what he meant.If she answered him it was only by suffering him to gaze at her in aneloquent silence--a silence in which his eyes cried again and again,"How beautiful you are!" While her eyes, downcast, under tremblinglashes, her heart beaten down, defenceless, cried only for "Quarter,quarter!"
They were yards apart. The table, and on it Miss Sibson's squatworkbox and a pile of longcloth, was between them. Miss Sibson herselfcould have desired nothing more proper. And yet--
_Farewell, farewell, my faithless shield, Thy lord at length is forced to yield. Vain, vain is every outward care, The foe's within and triumphs there!_
It was all over. In her ears would ring for ever his words ofworship--the cry of the man to the woman, "How beautiful you are!" Shewould thrill with pleasure when she thought of them, and burn withshame, and never, never, never be the
same again! And for him, withthat cry forced from him, love had become present, palpable, real, andthe idea of marriage real also; an idea to be withstood, to becombated, to be treated as foolish, Byronic, impossible. But an ideawhich would not leave him any more than the image of her gentlebeauty, indelibly stamped on his brain, would leave him. He mightspend some days or some weeks in doubt and wretchedness. But from thatmoment the odds were against him--he was young, and passion had neverhad her way with him--as seriously against him as against the armythat with spies and traitors in its midst moves against an united foe.
Not a word that was _convenant_ had passed between them, though somuch had passed, when a hasty footstep crossed the forecourt, andstopped at the door. The knocker fell sharply twice, and recalled themto realities.
"I--I must go," she faltered, wresting herself from the spell of hiseyes. "I have said what I--I hope you understand, and I--it is time Iwent." How her heart was beating!
"Oh, no, no!"
"Yes, I must go!"
Too late! A loud voice in the passage, a heavy step, announced avisitor. The door flew open, and there entered, pushing the startledmaid aside, the Honourable Bob Flixton, at the height of his glory,loud, impudent, and unabashed.
"Run to earth, my lad!" he cried boisterously. "Run to earth! Run----"
He broke off, gaping, as his eyes fell upon poor Mary, who, in makingway for him, had partly hidden herself behind the door. He whistledsoftly, in great amazement, and "Hope I don't intrude," he continued.And he grinned; while Vaughan, looking blackest thunder at him, couldfind no words that were adequate. To think that this loud-voiced,confident fool, the Don Giovanni of the regiment, had stumbled on hispearl!
"Well, well, well!" the Honourable Bob resumed, casting down his eyesas if he were shocked. And again: "I hope I don't intrude," hecontinued--it was the parrot cry of that year. "I didn't know. I'lltake myself off again"--he whistled low--"as fast as I can."
But Vaughan felt that to let him go thus, to spread the tale with athousand additions and innuendoes, was worst of all. "Wait, if youplease," he said, with a note of sternness in his tone. "I am comingwith you, Flixton. Good-morning, Miss Smith."
"See here, won't you introduce me?" cried the irrepressible Bob.
"No!" Vaughan answered curtly, and without staying to reflect. "Youwill kindly tell Miss Sibson, Miss Smith, that I am obliged, greatlyobliged to her. Now come, Flixton! I have done my business, and we arenot wanted here."
"I come reluctantly," said Bob, allowing himself to be dragged out,but not until he had cast a last languishing look at the beauty. Andon the doorstep, "Sly dog, sly dog!" he said. "To think that inBristol, where pretty girls are as scarce as mushrooms in March, thereshould be such an angel! Damme, an angel! And you the discoverer. Itbeats all!"
"Shut up," Vaughan answered angrily. "You know nothing about it!" Andthen, still more sourly, "See here, Flixton, I take it ill of youfollowing me here. It was too cool, I say."
But the Honourable Bob was not quick to quarrel. "I saw you go in,dear chap," he cried heartily. "I wanted to tell you that the hour ofdinner was changed. See? Did my own errand, and coming back thoughtI'd--truth was, I fancied you'd some little game on hand."
"Nothing of the kind!"
The Honourable Bob stopped. "Honour bright? Honour bright?" herepeated eagerly. "Mean to say, Vaughan, you're not on the track ofthat little filly?"
Vaughan scowled. "Not in the way you mean," he said sternly. "You makea mistake. She's a good girl."
Flixton winked. "Heard that before, my lad," he said, "more than once.From my grandmother. I'll take my chance of that."
Vaughan in his heart would have been glad to fall upon him and pommelhim. But there were objections to that course. On the other hand, hisfeelings had cooled in the last few minutes, and he was far fromprepared to announce offhand that he was going to marry the beauty. So"No, you will not, Flixton," he said. "Let it go! Do you hear? Thefact is," he continued, in some embarrassment, "I'm in a sort offiduciary relation to the young lady, and--and I am not going to seeher played with. That's the fact."
"Fiduciary relation?" the Honourable Bob retorted, in perplexity."What the deuce is that? Never heard of it! D'you mean, man, that youare--eh?--related to her? Of course, if so----"
"No, I am not related to her."
"Then----"
"But I'm not going to see her made a fool of, that's all!"
An idea struck the Honourable Bob. He stared. "See here," he said in atone of horror, "you ain't--you ain't thinking of marrying her?"
Vaughan's cheeks burned. "May be, and may be not," he said curtly."But either way, it is my business!"
"But surely you're not! Man alive!"
"It is my business, I say!"
"Of course, of course, if it is as bad as that," Flixton answered witha grin. "But--hope I don't intrude, Vaughan, but ain't you making abit of a fool of yourself? What'll old Vermuyden say, eh?"
"That's my business too!" Vaughan answered haughtily.
"Just so, just so; and quite enough for me. All I say is--if you arenot in earnest yourself, don't play the dog in the manger!"
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