Airy Fairy Lilian Part 33

"Lilian, my dear, where is my fourth knitting-needle?" asks auntie, mildly. "I lent it to you this morning for some purpose."

"It is up-stairs; you shall have it in one moment," returns Lilian, moving toward the door; and Sir Guy, muttering something about getting rid of the dust of travel, follows her out of the room.

At the foot of the stairs he says:

"Lilian."

"Yes?"

"I have brought you yet another bonbon. Will you accept it?"

As he speaks he holds out to her an open case, in which lies a pretty ring composed of pearls and diamonds.

"For me? Oh, Sir Guy!" says Lilian, flushing with pleasure, "what a lovely present to bring me!" Then her expression changes, and her face falls somewhat. She has lived long enough to know that young men do not, as a rule, go about giving costly rings to young women without a motive.

Perhaps she ought to refuse it. Perhaps auntie would think it wrong of her to take it. And if there is really anything between him and Florence---- Yet what a pretty ring it is, and how the diamonds glitter!

And what woman can resign diamonds without a struggle?

"Will auntie be vexed if I take it?" she asks, honestly, after a pause, raising her clear eyes to his, thereby betraying the fear that is tormenting her.

"Why should she? Surely," with a smile, "an elderly guardian may make a present to his youthful ward without being brought to task for it."

"And Florence?" asks Lilian, speaking impulsively, but half jestingly.

"Does it signify what she thinks?" returns he, a little stiffly. "It is a mere bauble, and scarcely worth so much thought. You remember that day down by the stream, when you said you were so fond of rings?"

"No."

"Well, I do, as I remember most things you say, be they kind or cruel,"

softly. "To-day, though I cannot explain why, this ring reminded me of you, so I bought it, thinking you might fancy it."

"So I do: it is quite too lovely," says Lilian, feeling as though she had been ungracious, and, what is worse, prudish. "Thank you very much.

I shall wear it this evening with my new dress, and it will help me to make an impression on my unknown cousin."

She holds out her hand to him; it is the right one, and Guy slips the ring upon the third finger of it, while she, forgetting it is the engaged finger, makes no objection.

Sir Guy, still holding the little cool slim hand, looks at her fixedly, and, looking, decides regretfully that she is quite ignorant of his meaning.

"How it sparkles!" she says, moving her hand gently to and fro so that the light falls upon it from different directions. "Thank you again, Guardy; you are always better to me than I deserve." She says this warmly, being desirous of removing all traces of her late hesitation, and quite oblivious of her former scruples. But the moment she leaves him she remembers them again, and, coming down-stairs with Lady Chetwoode's needle, and finding her alone, says, with a heightened color, "See what a charming present Sir Guy has brought me."

"Very pretty indeed," Lady Chetwoode says, examining the ring with interest. "Dear Guy has such taste, and he is always so thoughtful, ever thinking how to please some one. I am glad it has been you this time, p.u.s.s.y," kissing the girl's smiling lips as she bends over her. So that Miss Chesney, rea.s.sured by her auntie's kind words, goes up to dress for the reception of her cousin Archibald, with a clear and therefore happy conscience. Not for all the diamonds in Christendom would she have concealed even so small a secret as the acceptance of this ring from one whom she professes to love, and who she knows trusts in her.

CHAPTER XIV.

"_Kate._ I never saw a better fashioned gown, More quaint, more pleasing, nor more commendable."

--_Taming of the Shrew._

This dressing of Lilian for the undoing of her cousin is a wonderful affair, and occupies a considerable time. Not that she spends any of it in a dainty hesitation over the choice of the gown fated to work his overthrow; all that has been decided on long ago, and the fruit of many days' deep thought now lies upon her bed, bearing in its every fold--in each soft fall of lace--all the distinguishing marks that stamp the work of the inimitable Worth.

At length--nurse having admired and praised her to her heart's content, and given the last fond finishing touches to her toilet--Miss Chesney stands arrayed for conquest. She is dressed in a marvelous robe of black velvet--cut _a la Princesse_, simply fashioned, fitting _a merveille_,--being yet in mourning for her father. It is a little open at the throat, so that her neck--soft and fair as a child's--may be partly seen (looking all the whiter for the blackness that frames it in), and has the sleeves very tight and ending at the elbow, from which rich folds of Mechlin lace hang downward. Around her throat are a narrow band of black velvet and three little strings of pearls that once had been her mother's. In her amber hair a single white rose nestles sleepily.

Standing erect before her gla.s.s, she contemplates herself in silence,--marks the snowy loveliness of her neck and arms, her slender hands (on one of which Guy's ring is sparkling brilliantly), her rippling yellow hair in all its unstudied sleekness, the tender, exquisite face, rose-flushed, and, looking gladly upon it all,--for very love of it,--stoops forward and presses a kiss upon the delicate beauty that smiles back upon her from the mirror.

"How do I look, nurse?" she asks, turning with a whimsical grace to the woman who is regarding her with loving admiration. "Shall we captivate our cousin?"

"Ay, so I think, my dear," replies nurse, quietly. "Were you willing, my beauty, I'm nigh sure you could coax the birds off the bushes."

"You are an old dear," says Miss Chesney, tenderly, pressing her own cheek, soft with youth's down, against the wrinkled one near her. "But I must go and show myself to Taffy."

So saying, she opens the door, and trips away from Mrs. Tipping's adoring eyes, down the corridor, until she stops at Taffy's door.

"Taffy!"

"Yes." The answer comes in m.u.f.fled tones.

"May I come in?"

"Yes," still more m.u.f.fled.

Turning the handle of the door, Lilian enters, to find Mr. Musgrave in his shirt-sleeves before a long mirror, struggling with his hair, which is combed straight over his forehead.

"It won't come right," he says, casting a heart-rending glance at Lilian, who laughs with most reprehensible cruelty, considering the situation.

"I am glad to find you are not suffocated," she says. "From your tone, I prepared myself--outside--for the worst. Here, bend your head, you helpless boy, and I will do it for you."

Taffy kneeling before her submissively, she performs her task deftly, successfully, and thereby restores peace once more to the bosom of the dejected dragoon.

"You should hire me as your valet," she says, lightly; "when you are away from me, I am afraid to think of all the sufferings you must undergo. Are you easier in your mind now, Taffy?"

"Oh, I say! what a swell you are!" says that young man, when he is sufficiently recovered to glance round. "I call that rig-out downright fetching. Where did you get that from?"

"Straight from Monsieur Worth," returns Lilian, with pardonable pride, when one remembers what a success she is, drawing up her slim young figure to its fullest height, and letting her white hands fall clasped before her, as she poses for well-earned admiration. "Is not it pretty?

And doesn't it fit like a glove?"

"It does. It gives you really a tolerably good figure," with all a brother's calm impertinence, while examining her critically. "You have got yourself up regardless, so I suppose you mean mischief."

"Well, if this doesn't soften his heart, nothing will," replies Miss Chesney, vainly regarding her velvet, and alluding, as Musgrave well knows, to her cousin Archibald. "You really think I look nice, Taffy?

You think I am _chic_?"

"I do, indeed. I am not a judge of women's clothing, but I like black velvet, and when I have a wife she shall wear nothing else. I would say more in your favor, but that I fear over-much praise might have a bad effect upon you, and cause you to die of your 'own dear loveliness.'"

"_Mechant!_" says Lilian, with a charming pout. "Never mind, I know you admire me intensely."

"Have I not said so in the plainest Queen's English? But that time has fatally revealed to me the real character of the person standing in those costly garments, I feel I should fall madly in love with you to-night."

"Silly child!"--turning up her small nose with immeasurable disdain,--"do you think I would deign to accept your boyish homage? No; I like _men_! Indeed!"--with disgraceful affectation,--"I think it my duty to warn you not to waste time burning your foolish fingers at _my_ shrine."