The Guinea Stamp Part 46

'It is a pity one must have a lover,' said Gladys quite soberly, as she walked out of the room.

'Girls,' said Mrs. Fordyce, 'Gladys is an enigma, and I give her up; she is so different from any one I have ever met. Do you really think she cares anything for your cousin?'

'If she doesn't, why has she promised to marry him?' inquired Clara rather quickly. 'I think it is rather absurd to ask the question.'

'Well, I must say I should not particularly like to be in his shoes,'

said Mina; and added, with light sarcasm, 'But it will do dear George good. Gladys will not fall down and worship him, like the rest of her s.e.x. How I should like to be invisible at this moment in the library.'

But though Mina had had her wish she would not have seen anything very exciting, the greeting which pa.s.sed between Gladys and her lover being remarkably cool. George Fordyce was not quite himself. Had Gladys been more absorbingly interested in him she could not have failed to observe the furtive look of anxiety with which he advanced to meet her; his demeanour was as different from the ordinary eagerness of a newly-accepted lover as could well be imagined. Nor did she betray these signs of maidenly shyness and trembling joy which in the circ.u.mstances she might have been expected to feel.

'Good-evening,' she said gaily. 'Why did you not come up, instead of sending a message to me, as if you were a person asking a subscription?

I thought it so odd.'

George's courage rose. The gay unconcern of her demeanour convinced him that as yet nothing had lowered him in her estimation; with a little careful diplomacy, the dangerous currents might yet be avoided, and all go well.

'Is it so odd that I should wish to have you for a little while to myself?' he asked, and, putting his arm round her shoulders, took the kiss she could not deny him, though she almost immediately drew herself away.

'Do come up to the drawing-room. Why should we stay down here? Don't you think it rather silly?'

'I don't care whether it is silly or not,' he answered daringly. 'I don't mean to go up, or allow you to leave this room, for a good half hour at least.'

Gladys laughed a little, and dropped on one knee on a stool before the quaint fireplace, where the logs burned and crackled in a cheerful blaze.

'And I have a crow to pick with you, madam,' said the lover, made bolder by the perfect freedom of the girl's demeanour. 'I don't like second-hand messages. You might at least have sent me a nice little note by the hand of Aunt Isabel this afternoon.'

'I didn't think of it, or I might,' answered Gladys quite soberly, and the ruddy firelight lay warm and bright on her sweet face, and gave a deeper tinge to the gold of her hair. As George Fordyce stood as near to her as he dared, being deterred by a certain high dignity in her bearing, he was struck, not only by the perfect beauty of her features, but by the singular firmness mingling with the archness of her look.

Twelve months had done a great deal for Gladys, and there was nothing of the child left, though the new womanliness was a most gracious and lovely thing.

'I had such a busy morning down town; and oh, I have a great deal to tell you, only you must promise to be sympathetic, because I have had a great deal to bear to-day, and have almost quarrelled with your aunt and the girls.'

'Yes?' he said, with all the fine indifference he could command. 'And what was it all about?'

He knew it must come sooner or later, and braced himself up to carry matters through with as high a hand as possible.

'About that poor girl of whom I told you, Lizzie Hepburn. She has come back, looking so very ill and unhappy, and of course I asked her down to Bourhill, and your aunt and cousins are so vexed about it, I am quite puzzled. It is so unlike them to blame one for wishing to be kind.

Please, can you explain it?'

She raised her eyes to his face with something of the old child-like wistfulness in their depths, and it showed George Fordyce to be a very clever man indeed that he was able to meet that clear gaze without flinching.

'Well, you see, dear, I think it is regard for you which made Aunt Isabel appear a little harsh. She knows the world, and you do not, and, you know, a young and lovely girl, living without natural protectors, as you are, cannot be too careful.'

'Oh, that is just how they talk,' she cried petulantly, 'but it does not convey any meaning to me. Why should I not be kind to this poor girl?

She can't eat me, or hurt me in the smallest degree. You must make it a great deal plainer to me before I see the smallest particle of reason in it.'

Here was a dilemma! The very irony of fate could not have devised a more trying and awkward position for any man. To say he felt himself on the brink of a volcano conveys but a faint idea of his peculiar state of mind.

'My own darling, it is extremely difficult to make it any clearer without giving offence, but I think you ought to have some idea of what is fitting. Can you not believe that we, who love you so dearly, would advise you to do nothing but what is right and best for you?'

This admirable plea, so earnestly and persuasively uttered, somewhat touched Gladys, though her face still wore a perplexed and even troubled look.

'Well, but how can it do me any harm to have these girls at Bourhill? Is it because they are poor that I must not have them?'

'Well, not exactly; though, of course, it is not customary for young ladies like you to invite such people to be your guests just in the same way as you would invite Clara or Mina; and I question very much, dear, if it is any real kindness to them, it is so apt to make them discontented with their own sphere.'

This was another clever stroke, this view of the case not having been as yet presented to Gladys. Hitherto the talk had all been of the influence such companionship was likely to have on her, and the new phase of the situation made her more thoughtful still.

'I never thought of that,' she said slowly, 'and I don't think it had that effect on Christina Balfour--in fact, I am sure of it. She is like a different creature, so much brighter and happier; and I am sure a week or two at Bourhill will do wonders for poor Lizzie Hepburn. If you saw her you would be quite sorry for her. She is such an interesting girl, so beautiful, and she has a great deal of character, quite different from Christina. I have asked them down, and of course I can't retract my invitations; they may have gone down to Miss Peck already, for aught I know. Promise to come down to Bourhill and see poor Lizzie, then I am sure you will say I have done quite right.'

A cold sweat broke over George Fordyce, and he was fain to take several turns between the window and the door to recover himself. He could almost have laughed aloud at the awful absurdity of the whole situation, only it had its tragic side too. He felt that his chance was almost over. He could not expect Liz Hepburn's visit to Bourhill to be barren of consequences the most serious; but he would wear the mask as long as possible, and make one more endeavour to save himself. He came back to the hearth, and, laying his hand hurriedly on the heart of the girl he loved with all the tenderness that was in him, he said, in that pleading, winning way so few women could resist,--

'My darling, if I ask you, won't you take Aunt Isabel's advice? I know I haven't any right yet to dictate to you, even if I wished to do it, but won't you believe that we only advise what is the very best for you?

Couldn't you, instead of having the girls at Bourhill, send them to some other country place? It would only cost a very little more.'

'But that wouldn't be the same thing at all,' said Gladys wilfully. 'And if I were to retract my invitation now, they would never have the same faith in me again. I would not on any account disappoint them.'

'Even to please me?' he queried, with a slightly injured air.

'Even to please you,' she repeated, in the same wilful tone.

'And will it always be the same?' he asked then. 'Will you never allow me to have any say in your affairs?'

'I hoped you would help me to do good to people,' she said slowly, giving utterance for the first time to the feeling of disappointment and misgiving which sometimes oppressed her when she thought of her relation towards George Fordyce.

'My dear, you will get all your thanks in one day,' he said dryly. 'I know the cla.s.s you have to deal with. They'll take all you have to give them, and laugh in your face. They have no such quality as grat.i.tude in them.'

Gladys curled her lips in scorn.

'How unhappy you must be to have so little faith in humankind. That has not been my experience; but we shall never agree on that point. Shall we go up-stairs now?'

Her perfect independence of and indifference to his opinion, betrayed in the careless ease of her manner as she rose from the hearth, exasperated him not a little.

'No, I am not coming up-stairs,' he answered, as rudely as he dared.

'What shall I say to Mrs. Fordyce, then? That you are out of temper?'

she asked, with a sly gaiety which became her well, though it only further exasperated him.

'You can say anything you like, I am very sorry indeed that my opinion is of so little value in your eyes, Gladys, and I ask your pardon if I have presumed too much in offering you a crumb of advice.'

'Oh, don't be cross because we don't happen to agree on that particular point,' she said sunnily. 'Each individual is surely ent.i.tled to his opinion. I am not cross because you would not agree with me. Come away up-stairs.'

'No, I'm not coming up to-night. Make my apologies to them. Gladys, upon my word, you are perfectly bewitching. I wish you knew how pa.s.sionately I love you. I don't believe you care a t.i.the as much for me as I do for you.'

He would have held her again, but she moved away from him, and her face did not brighten as it ought to have done at such a lover-like speech.

'Will you promise me one thing, Gladys, before I go?' he pleaded, and he had never been more in earnest in his life. 'Promise me that if anybody speaks ill of me to you, you will at least give me a chance to clear myself before you condemn me.'

'Oh, I can promise that fast enough, because n.o.body ever speaks ill of you to me. It is quite the reverse, I a.s.sure you. I have to listen to your praises all day long,' she said, with a teasing smile. 'You ought to show your grat.i.tude for such disinterested kindness by coming up to the ladies.'