Margaret Capel Volume I Part 12

"Do you suppose I mean to tell you?" asked Blanche, "pray let me read in peace."

"Is it the eldest Gage? Because I can tell you he is not to be caught."

"Yes," retorted Blanche, "it is likely I should go on a pilgrimage to Cork for the purpose of making George Gage an offer. That is so like you!"

Mrs. Somerton was highly exasperated at this reply, and upbraided Blanche with obstinacy and ingrat.i.tude, and want of feeling, and want of prudence, until her exordium was interrupted by the entrance of Mr.

Warde. It was a contrast which would have struck painfully upon some people, to see the kind old gentleman come in, quite unconscious of the occupation of his sister and niece, engrossed with the cares of his parish, full of some touching history of want and sorrow, which he would sit down, and relate at full length, not believing that any one could hear it without interest. Years ago, when Blanche was a child, she would have cried heartily at such a recital, and have done her best to send some relief to the sufferers; but time and bad training had done their work. She cared less about the matter than if an accident had happened to her spaniel, and was turning over in her mind, the tr.i.m.m.i.n.g she would have to her next bonnet, while she went through the proper exclamations during her uncle's narrative.

About this time some races were held, at which all the neighbourhood were to attend. There was a ball in the evening, and Captain Gage desired to fill his house with company, that they might go in a party to the race and ball. Miss Gage asked Margaret to stay with her during these festivities, and her father sent an invitation to Mrs. Somerton and her daughter, which was gladly accepted. Hubert Gage was on his road home, and was bringing his brother George with him. He had obtained leave suddenly, for he recollected the spring races, and had some curiosity to see Margaret. It had been difficult to make Hubert talk of any body else, and he thought if she was really very beautiful, and had slender ancles, and a good prospect of inheriting Mr. Grey's property, besides her own ten thousand pounds, she _might_ do for him. She was worth looking after at any rate; and as these things can seldom be transacted by proxy, he was forced to take the trouble of coming over to decide upon her merits.

CHAPTER IX.

Ma pur mostrava anchor grand' arroganza, Tanto superbo havea l'aspetto fiero, E qualunche il mira.s.se in su Bajardo, Direbbe, quest'e 'l fior d'ogni gagliardo.

BOIARDO.

A few minutes before Margaret was setting out for Chirke Weston, Mr.

Grey called her into the library, where he was standing at one of the windows, with a letter in his hand.

Margaret threaded her way through the heavy carved oak furniture, and joined her uncle. A groom was leading a beautiful bay horse slowly to and fro before the windows.

"Oh, uncle! is it really--I can hardly believe that beautiful creature is actually for me."

"Yes, my child, if he suits, which I feel no doubt of--for Claude is very careful, and he writes me word that the horse was the property of a lady. You will meet him at the Gages, and he comes on here after the ball. You may tell him, I take it very kind that he bore in mind that I was looking out for a horse, and that I feel sure I shall buy him."

Margaret much as she felt obliged to Mr. Haveloc for having found her a horse, had no intention of giving him Mr. Grey's message. It was an exertion to which she could not feel equal, unless he should introduce the subject.

She arrived at Chirke Weston about an hour before dinner, and having made her toilet, came down to the drawing-room with some trepidation; for Miss Gage had told her that there was a large party expected.

Sir Evan and Lady Conway were already in the room with their two daughters. The girls were tall, bright-eyed, dark, dashing, and well-dressed: they were practising the Mazourka, which was then just beginning to turn people's heads, and looked so formidable to poor Margaret, that she involuntarily shrank closer to the side of her friend Elizabeth. They left off their dancing to be introduced to Margaret, and stood cl.u.s.tered round the fire, talking with more ease and friendliness than she would have imagined from their appearance. She rose a step in Miss Conway's opinion, when she said she knew the Mazourka, and another step or two when she avowed that she liked it very much.

Harriet, the younger sister, fixed her immense dark eyes upon her, and then said, laughing, "You are too young to be stared at--but it is a great temptation."

Margaret felt glad that she had come to that determination, but she liked the appearance of Miss Harriet more than that of her sister.

She appeared to be in very ill-health; her hair had been cut off in an illness, and was now beginning to grow in tendrils all round her small head. She was very thin and pale, and her dress was made high, and finished with costly lace. And whenever a person ventures upon such a toilet, it gives an air of 'retenue' to the figure, which might almost point out to other women, that there is a little want of refinement in the wanton exposure with which they too often favour the public.

Nothing, on that score, however, could be urged against Elizabeth and Margaret, who though they conformed to fashion, were careful to mark a distinction in their dress between a gentlewoman and an opera-dancer.

Mrs. Somerton and her daughter now made their appearance; then some people who were entire strangers to Margaret; then Mr. Conway with his gla.s.s in his eye; and after him Hubert Gage and Mr. Haveloc.

These last both made their way to Margaret at the same time. Mr.

Haveloc merely made the usual enquiries about herself and her uncle, and then leaned against the mantle-piece in perfect silence. Hubert Gage had more to say. He had to describe his pa.s.sage and his visit to Ireland, and all the things which happened on his return. He had to invent a storm, which made Margaret turn pale; and a variety of dialogues between the pa.s.sengers upon their supposed danger, which set her laughing merrily.

Blanche Somerton, who was sitting near, did not quite like this prolonged conversation. She turned round and summoned him to her side.

"I am so sorry to trouble you, Mr. Hubert," she said, "but do look at my bouquet. I came away in such a hurry--see, it will not fit my bouquetiere; the stalks are too long."

"That is a difficulty very easy to remedy," said Hubert, taking the bouquet from her. "Now I wish young ladies were always as modest in their demands; they do ask one such impossible things sometimes."

"No, but what sort of things?" asked Blanche. "Do tell me, I so long to know. I really believe that you are very severe upon women."

"By no means. I am too sincere an admirer of the fair s.e.x to be exacting. Stay, this is not quite right yet--let me shorten these stalks again."

"You will spoil that nice penknife, I am afraid."

"That is not of the slightest consequence," said he laughing, "particularly as it is not my property."

"Then you mean to say that if it was yours--"

"I should feel double pleasure in sacrificing it of course. Dinner already! Now you must take my arm, you see. I have not quite finished the arrangement of your flowers. It is certainly a beautiful bouquet. I hardly know which to admire most, the flowers or the bouquetiere. Quite new this sort of thing--is it not?"

Every body was rising and pairing off--Hubert Gage, with Blanche on his arm, sauntered past Margaret, arranging the bouquet as he walked along.

Margaret looked after him with some surprise; his attendance had been a thing that she was so certain of late to meet with, that she could scarcely comprehend his transferring it to somebody else. There was a little mortification in her mind for a minute, for no one likes to be robbed of an admirer, however willing she may be to give him up. But she understood it in a moment. Love hangs on such a slender thread with every one, that she could never, and did never regard Hubert Gage with a warmer interest than what might belong to a pleasant acquaintance. She was too romantic, too exacting in her ideas of love to suppose, for a moment, that a man who once entertained a serious thought of her could be engrossed in her presence by another woman.

Mr. Haveloc was at her side almost as soon as Hubert pa.s.sed, and she felt grateful for the attention. It prevented the awkwardness of seeming to wait till some one was desired to take her in to dinner.

Just as all the company were arranging themselves round the table, George Gage clattered into the room exactly as he came off his journey, not appearing to have thought it worth while to undergo the trouble of dressing for dinner. He noticed two or three people at table, found a vacant chair just opposite to Margaret, and seeing a new and beautiful face, glared at her over his soup-plate without remorse.

Certainly there was a great contrast between the two brothers. Whereas Hubert endeavoured, for no earthly motive, to efface all traces of his profession from his dress and language, George Gage, with as little show of reason, seemed never for a moment to forget his calling.

He stalked about as if the world was made for his sole benefit and pleasure, and contrived to make such a great jingling when he walked, that Margaret seriously thought, the first time she heard him cross the marble hall, that a dray-horse had broken loose and was making his way to the drawing-room. This was the more strange as he did not dress in chain armour, but in a costume, something between a farmer and a baker's apprentice. He flourished his walking-stick as if he were leading a charge of cavalry; or held it in the pocket of his coat, which seemed an equally odd way of disposing of it. He was very arrogant in his manner to every body, except the few ladies who were deemed by him of sufficient birth and beauty to be honoured by his notice, and to them his manner a.s.sumed a softness and an a.s.siduity which rather puzzled Margaret, who was edified by his laconic replies to the country gentlemen, and his haughty mode of speaking to the servants. But, as she was one of the chosen few to whom he condescended, she at least had no reason to complain.

He was attached to his father; though, (and this was a heavy objection,) he did not like the fashion of his cravats, and respected him too, without being quite satisfied with his choice of a boot-maker.

This was an instance of filial virtue which would hardly have been believed by his companions, but which was true notwithstanding.

These several traits, however, did not flash upon Margaret all at once, but became evident in the course of her acquaintance with him. At present she was merely aware that his great blue eyes were perusing her with an expression to which she was not accustomed, and to which no modest woman can ever become accustomed--the critical and scrutinising expression of a Turk in a Slave Market.

It was a relief to her to turn to Mr. Haveloc, who was rendering her the common courtesies of the table, with an earnestness which formed a sufficient contrast to the laughing manner of Hubert Gage. It seemed almost as if meeting at a strange house put them more at ease with each other.

"You remain here some days, do you not?" asked Mr. Haveloc.

"Yes, until after the races and the ball, and the early flower show at S----."

"You mean to see a great deal of the world then before you come back to Ashdale."

"Yes," said Margaret, "I shall have so much to tell my uncle about."

Mr. Haveloc gave her one of those softened smiles, which changed so entirely the expression of his features.

"You look forward with pleasure," he said, "to giving Mr. Grey an account of your adventures."

"I do indeed," said Margaret.