At His Gates: A Novel. Vol. 3 (of 3)

by Mrs. Oliphant

  CHAPTER VII.

  While her mother was thus occupied Norah was taking her fill ofpleasure. She 'danced every dance'--beatific fulfilment of every girlishwish in respect to a ball. She was so young and so fresh that thisperpetual motion filled up the measure of her desires, and left herlittle time to think. To be sure, once or twice it had come over herthat Ned, poor Ned, was not here to share in all this delight; and ifNorah had been destitute of partners, or less sought than she thoughther due, no doubt her heart would have been very heavy on account ofNed. But she had as many partners as any girl could desire, and she hadno time to think. She was as happy as the night was long. The dancingwas delightful to her for itself, the music was delightful, and the'kindness' of everybody, which was Norah's modest, pretty synonym forthe admiration she received; and she asked no more of heaven than this,which she was receiving in such full measure. To be sure, her mother'sdisappearance disturbed her for the moment. But when Mrs Dalton hadsworn by all her gods that Mrs Drummond was not ill, Norah resignedherself once more to her happy fate.

  There was, at the same time, a special point which exhilarated Norah,satisfied her pride, and raised her spirits. During all the festivitiesof the afternoon she had kept Cyril Rivers at arm's length. Perhaps ifhe had not shown so much anxiety to approach nearer, Norah would nothave felt the same satisfaction in this--but his explanation, it wasevident, was hanging on his very lips, and she had triumphantly kept himfrom making it. The same process was repeated in the evening. She hadrushed into a perfect crowd of engagements in order to escape him. PoorCharlie Dalton, whom Clara had no longer any thought of, and who for thegreater part of the evening had been standing about, dolefully gazingafter her, was pressed unceremoniously into Norah's service. Once, whenshe happened to be disengaged and saw Rivers approaching, she was solost to all sense of shame as to seize him breathlessly by the arm.'Dance this dance with me, Charlie,' she whispered impatiently.

  'Why must I dance?' said the poor boy, who had no heart for it.

  'Because I am determined not to dance with him,' said Norah,energetically leading off her captive. And thus she kept the other at adistance, though perhaps she would have been less rigid in evasion hadhe been more indifferent to the opportunity. It was late in the night,after supper, when he secured her at last.

  'Miss Drummond, you have avoided me all night----'

  'I!' cried Norah, 'but that is ridiculous. Why should I avoid you, MrRivers? Indeed I am sure I have spoken to you at least a dozen timesthis evening. It is not one's own fault when one is engaged.'

  'And I have been so anxious to see you--to explain to you,' he cried,his eagerness, and the long, tantalizing delay having overcome hiswisdom. 'I have been quite miserable.'

  'About what, Mr. Rivers?'

  'About what you must have thought very abominable behaviour--that day atthe pictures; fancy, it is two months since, and you have never allowedme a moment in which I could say it till now!'

  'At the pictures?' said Norah, feigning surprise. 'I don't think wehave seen you very often lately, and two months is a long time toremember. Oh, I recollect! you left us in a hurry.'

  'My mother had come to look for me--there was some business in hand thatI had to be consulted about. I cannot tell you what a wretched ass Ifelt myself, dragged away without a moment to explain--without even timeto say, ”This is my mother.”'

  'Mr Rivers,' said Norah, drawing her small person to its full height,and loosing her hold of his arm, 'I think it would have been good tastenot to say anything about this. When we did not remark upon it, whyshould you? I am only a girl, I am nineteen, and I never disobeyed mammathat I know of; but still, do you think I should have let her carry meoff like a baby from my friends whom I cared for, without a word? Thereare some things that one ought not to be asked to believe. You were notobliged to say anything at all about it. I should like to be polite, butI can't make myself a fool to please you. And, on the other hand, youknow Lady Rivers is nothing to us. I did not ask to be introduced toher, and poor mamma was too ill even to know. Please don't say any moreabout it. It would have been much better not to have mentioned it atall.'

  'But, Miss Drummond!----'

  'Yes, I know. You wanted to be polite. But never mind. I am quite, quitesatisfied,' said Norah with a gleam of triumph. 'Look here! Let us haveKatie for our _vis-a-vis_. Don't you think Clara Burton is looking quitebeautiful to-night?'

  Mr Rivers did not reply. He said to himself that he had never been socompletely snubbed in his life. He had never felt so small, so cowed,and that is not pleasant to a man. Her very pardon, her condonation ofhis offence, was humbling to him. Had she resented it, he had a hundredweapons with which to meet her resentment; but he had not one to opposeto her frank indignation, and her pardon. And yet, with curiousperversity, never before had Norah seemed so sweet to him. He had feltthe wildest jealousy of poor Charlie during that dance, which he wentthrough so unwillingly; and, but for the cheerful strains of theLancers, which commenced at this point, and set them all--so many whoenjoyed it, so many who did not enjoy it--in motion, it was in his mindto commit himself as he had never yet done--to throw himself upon hermercy. This thought gave to his handsome face a look which Norah in hertriumph secretly enjoyed, and called 'sentimental.' 'But I am not oneof those girls that fall down and worship a man, and think him ademigod,' Norah said to herself. 'He is no demigod! he has not so muchcourage as I have. He is frightened of--me! Oh, if Ned were but here!'This last little private exclamation was accompanied with the very ghostof a sigh--half of a quarter of a sigh, Norah would have said, had shedescribed it--Ned was afraid of her too, and was not the least like ademigod. I do not defend Norah for her sauciness, nor do I blame her;for, after all, the young men of the present day are very unlikedemigods; and there are some honest girls left in the world capable ofloving a man as his wife ought, without worshipping him as his slave,and without even bowing herself down in delicious inferiority beforehim, grovelling as so many heroines do. Norah was incapable ofgrovelling under any circumstances; but then she had been brought up byher mother, in the traditions of womanly training such as they used tobe in a world which we are told is past.

  This is the very worst place in the world for a digression, I allow; itis to permit of the dancing of that figure which they were just about tocommence. Clara Burton was dancing in the same set, with Mr Golden. Andas her own partner after this little episode was for some time anythingbut lively, Norah gave her mind to the observation of Clara. Clara andMr Golden were great friends. She had said to Lord Merewether that hewas like papa, but it may be doubted whether papas generally, even whenmost indulgent, are looked up to by their children as Clara looked up toher father's friend. All Dura had remarked upon it before now; all Durahad wondered, did the parents see it? What did Mrs Burton mean bypermitting it? But it never once entered into Mrs Burton's cool, cleverlittle head to fancy it possible that the attractions of such a mancould move her child. Everybody in the neighbourhood, except those mostconcerned, had seen Clara wandering with this man, who was nearly as oldas her father, through the Dura woods. Everybody had seen the flushed,eager, tender way in which she hung upon him, and looked up to him; andhis constant devotion to her. 'If I were you I should speak to Mr Burtonabout it,' the rector's wife had said half a dozen times over; but therector had that constitutional dislike to interfere in anything which ispeculiar to Englishmen. That night Clara was beautiful, as Norah hadsaid; she was full of agitation and excitement--even of something whichlooked like feeling; her colour was splendid, her blue eyes as blue asthe sea when it is stirred, her hair like masses of living gold, hercomplexion like the flushings of the sunset upon snow. As for herpartner, a certain air of warning mingled in his assiduity. Once Norahsaw him hold up his finger, as if in remonstrance. He was wary,watchful, observant of the glances round him; but Clara, who neverrestrained herself, put on no trammels to-night. She stood looking up athim, talking to him incessantly, forgetting the dance, and when she wascompel
led to remember it, hurrying through the figure that she mightresume the intermitted conversation. Gradually the attention of theother dancers became concentrated on her. It was her moment of triumph,no doubt--her birthday, her coming of age as it were, though she was buteighteen--her entry, many people thought, into the glory ofheiress-ship. But all this was not enough to account for theintoxication of excitement, the passion that blazed in Clara's eyes.What did it mean? When the dance was over, the majority of the dancersmade their way into the coolness of the conservatory, which was lightedwith soft lamps. Mr Rivers took Norah back to Mrs Dalton. His dark eyeshad grown larger, his air more sentimental than ever. He withdrew alittle way apart, and folded his arms, and stood gazing at her, just,Norah reflected with impatience, as a man would do who was the hero in anovel. But very different ideas were in Norah's mind. She seized uponCharlie once more, who was sentimental too. 'Come out on the terracewith me. I want to speak to Clara,' she said. They were stopped justinside the open window by a stream of people coming in for the nextdance. Norah had been pushed close to the window, half in half out, bythe throng. This was how she happened to hear the whispered talk of apair outside, who were close by her without knowing it, and whom nobodyelse could hear.

  'At the top of the avenue, at three o'clock. Wrap a cloak round you, mydarling. In the string of carriages ours will never be noticed. It isthe best plan.'

  'And everything is ready?' asked another voice, which was Clara's.

  'Everything, my love! In an hour and a half----'

  'For you! I could do it only for you!'

  In a minute after the two came in, pushing past Norah and her companion,who, both pale as statues, let them pass. The others were not pale.Clara's face was dyed with vivid colour, and Mr Golden, bending overher, looked almost young in the glow of animation and admiration withwhich he gazed at her. Charlie Dalton had not heard the scrap ofdialogue, which meant so much; but he ground his teeth and stared at hissupplanter, and crushed Norah's hand which held his arm. 'That fellow!'Charlie said between his teeth. 'Had it been some one else, I could haveborne it.'

  'Oh, Charlie, take me back to your mother,' cried Norah. Her thoughtswent like the wind; already she had made out her plan--but what was theuse of saying anything to him, poor simpleton, to make him more unhappy?Norah went back, and placed herself by Mrs Dalton's side. 'I do not meanto dance any more. I am tired,' she said; and, though the music temptedher, and her poor little feet danced in spite of her, keeping time onthe floor, she did not change her resolution. Mr Rivers came, findingthe opportunity he sought; but Norah paid no heed to him. The men whosenames were written upon her card came too, in anxiety and dismay. But toall she had the same answer. 'I am tired. I shall dance no moreto-night.'

  'Let me look at you, child,' said kind Mrs Dalton; 'indeed you looktired--you look as if you had seen a ghost.'

  'And so I have,' said Norah. She felt as if she must cry; Clara Burtonhad been her play-fellow, almost her sister, as near to her as Katie,and as much beloved. What was it Clara was going to do? The childshivered in her terror. When the dancers were all in full career oncemore, Norah put her mouth close to Mrs Dalton's ear and whispered forthher story. 'What can we do? What shall we do?' she asked. It would beimpossible to describe Mrs Dalton's consternation. She remonstrated,struggled against the idea, protested that there must be some mistake.But still Norah asked, 'What can we do? what can we do?'

  'My dear Norah! see, they are not near each other--they are not lookingat each other. You have made a mistake.'

  'Why should they look at each other? everything is arranged andsettled,' said Norah. Mrs Dalton, if you will not come with me, I willgo myself. Clara must not be allowed to go. Oh, only think of it! Clara,one of us! I have made up my plan; and if you will not come, I will gomyself.'

  'Norah, where will you go? What can _you_ do--a child? And, oh, how canI go after Clara and leave the girls?' replied Mrs Dalton in herdistress.

  'You can leave them with Charlie,' said Norah. It had struck two beforethis explanation was made, and already a few additional guests had begunto depart. There was very little time to lose. Before Mrs Dalton wasaware she found herself hurried into the cloak-room, wrapped in somewrap which was not hers, and out under the moonlight again, scarcelyknowing how she got there.

  'This is not my cloak, Norah,' she said piteously; 'my cloak was white.'

  'Never mind, dear Mrs Dalton; white would have been seen,' said Norah,who was far too much excited to think of larceny. And then, impetuous asa little sprite, she led her friend round the farther side of the lawn,and placed her under the shadow of a clump of evergreens. 'There is abrougham standing here which never budges,' whispered Norah, 'with awhite horse. I have seen him driving a white horse. Now stand verystill. Oh, do stand still, please!'

  'But, Norah, I see no one. It is Mrs Ashurst's old white horse; it isthe fly from the inn. Norah, it is very cold. Our carriage will becoming. If it comes while we are gone--'

  Norah grasped her tremulous companion by the arm. 'You would go barefootfrom here to London,' she said in her ear, with a voice which was huskywith excitement, 'to save any one, you know you would; and this isClara--Clara!'

  Some one came rapidly across the grass--a dark, veiled, hooded figure,keeping in the shadow. The morning was breaking in the east and mingledmysteriously with the moonlight, making a weird paleness all about amongthe dark trees and bushes. There was such a noise and ceaseless roll ofcarriages passing, of servants waiting about, of impatient horses,pawing and tossing their heads, that the very air was full of confusion.Mrs Dalton's alarm was undescribable. She held back the impetuous girlby her side, who was rushing upon that new-comer. 'Norah! it is somelady looking for her carriage. Norah!'

  Norah paid no heed; she rushed forward, and laid hold upon the long greycloak in which the new-comer was muffled. 'Clara!' she cried. 'Oh,Clara! stop, stop! and come back.'

  At this moment there suddenly appeared among them another figure, in anovercoat, with a soft felt hat slouched over his face, who took Clara bythe hand and whispered, 'Quick! there is not a moment to lose.'

  'Is it you, Norah?' said Clara from under her cloak. 'You spy! youprying inquisitive--! Go back yourself. You have nothing to do with me.'

  'Oh, Clara!' cried the other girl, clasping her hands; 'don't go awaylike this. It is almost morning. They will see you--in your ball dress.Clara, Clara, dear! Hate me if you like--only, for heaven's sake, comeback.'

  And now Mrs Dalton crept out from the shadow of the bushes. 'Mr Golden,leave her. Let her go. How dare you over-persuade a child like that? Lether go, or I will call out to stop you. Clara!'

  He pushed them apart--one to one side, one to the other. 'Quick!' hecried, with a low call to a servant who stood close by. 'Quick, Clara!don't lose a moment.' He had pushed them aside roughly, and stoodguarding her retreat, facing round upon them. 'What is it to you,' hesaid, 'if I am employed to take Miss Burton to her father? You may callany one you please--you may go and tell her mother. I am coming--now,for your life!'

  The brougham dashed off with dangerous speed, charging, as it seemed,into the mass of carriages. There was a tumult and trampling of horses,a cry as of some one hurt; but all that the two terrified women on thelawn saw was Clara's face, looking back at them from the carriagewindow, with an insolent, triumphant look. She had partially thrown offher cloak, and appeared from under it in her white dress, a beautiful,strange vision--and then there came the sound of the collision andconflict, and the struggle of horses, and the cry. But whoever waswounded, it was not anybody belonging to that equipage. The white horsecould be traced down the avenue like a long, lessening streak of light.So far, at least, the scheme had been successful. They were gone.

  Norah could not speak; she walked about upon the lawn, among theservants, wringing her hands. The morning dew, which was beginning tofall, shone wet upon her hair. 'What can we do--what can we do?' shecried.

  'My dear child, we have done all we c
an. Oh, that foolish, foolish girl!Norah, your feet must be wet, and so I am sure are mine; and your prettywhite tarlatan all spoiled. Oh, heaven help us! is this what it has allcome to? I dare not send Charlie after them. Norah, run and call MrDalton. He might go, perhaps. Norah, oh, you must not go alone!' criedthe rector's wife.

  But Norah was gone. She rushed into the house, through all the departingguests, her cloak and her hair all wet with dew. She made her way intothe ball-room in that plight, and rushed up to Mr Dalton, and led himalarmed out into the hall. Mrs Dalton had followed, and was slowlygathering up her dress. Her heart was full of dismay and trouble; thatClara should thus destroy herself--break her parents' hearts! and Norahmust certainly have spoilt her pretty new dress. 'One would not haveminded had it done any good,' she murmured within herself. When they metthe rector in the hall, a hurried consultation ensued.

  'Take our fly, George,' said Mrs Dalton heroically. 'We can get homesomehow. Take it! They cannot be very far gone--you may overtake themyet.'

  'Overtake them! Though I don't even know which way they have gone,' saidthe rector, fretful with this strange mission. But, all the same, hewent off, and hunted out the fly, and offered the driver half asovereign if he could overtake the brougham with a white horse. Buteverything retarded Mr Dalton. His horse was but a fly horse, not themost lively of his kind. The man had been drinking Miss Burton's health,and was more disposed to continue that exercise than to gallop vaguelyabout the roads, even with the promise of an additional half-sovereign;Mrs Dalton, in the mean while, threw off her borrowed cloak, and wentinto the almost deserted ball-room in search of the mistress of thehouse; and Mary and Katie, wondering and shivering, standing close toCharlie, who was their protector for the moment, made a group roundNorah in the hall, with the daylight every moment brightening over theirfaces, weariness stealing over them, and mystery oppressing them, and noappearance of either father or mother, or the fly!

  Norah leant against Katie's shoulder and cried. After all her impetuousexertions the reaction was sharp. She would not give any explanation,but leant upon her friend, and cried, and shivered.

  'Oh, where can mamma be? Where is the fly? Oh, Norah, have my cloak too;I don't want it. How cold you are! Charlie, run and look for the fly,'cried Katie. They stood all clinging together, while the people streamedpast, getting into their carriages, going away. The daylight grewclearer, the sun began to rise, while still they stood there forlorn.And what with weariness, what with wonder and anxiety and vexation, Maryand Katie were almost crying too.

  Finally Mrs Dalton appeared, when almost all the guests were gone, witha flush on her kind face, and an energy which triumphed over herweariness. 'Come, children, we must pluck up our courage and walk,' shesaid. 'Take up your dresses, girls, and help Norah with hers. Poorchild, perhaps the walk will be the best thing for her. It is of no usewaiting for the fly.'

  Here Charlie came back to report that the fly was nowhere visible, butthat some one who had been knocked down by a runaway horse was beingcarried up to the house, much injured. 'A white horse in a brougham.They say it took fright, and dashed down the avenue; and they are afraidthe man is badly hurt,' said Charlie. The ladies shuddered as the poorfellow was carried past them, his head bound round with a handkerchiefstained with blood. They were the last to leave, and came down the stepsjust as this figure was being carried in. It was broad daylight now, andthey all felt guilty and miserable in their ball dresses. This was howthe last ball ended which was given by the Burtons in Dura House.

  They walked down weary, feeling some weight upon them which the majorityof the party did not understand, all the length of the leafy avenue,where the birds were singing, and the new morning sending arrows ofgold. The fly, with Mr Dalton in it, very tired and fretful, met themat the gate. He had not so much as come within sight of the broughamwith the white horse. But yet he was ready to go up to the great houseas duty demanded, to put himself at the service of its mistress.Charlie, enlightened all in a moment as to the meaning of the night'sproceedings, went with him, like a ghost of misery and wrath. The girlsand the mother went home alone through the sunshine. And the echoes grewstill about that centre of tumult and rejoicing. The rejoicing had endednow; and, with that feast, the reign of the Burtons at Dura had come toan end.