The Star-Gazers Part 23

"I'd go and hang myself sooner. I'd sooner go and commit suicide in my new patent thrashing-machine."

"Nonsense, papa, dear," said Glynne quietly. "You ought to go and apologise. If you don't, Uncle James will leave us."

"Let him."

"And then you will be very much put out and grieved."

"And a good job too. I mean a good job if he'd leave, for then we should have peace in the place."

"Now, papa!"

"I tell you I'd be very glad of it; a confounded peppery old Nero, talking to me as if I were a private under him. Bully me, indeed! I won't stand it. There!"

"Papa, dear, go upstairs and apologise to Uncle James."

"I won't, Glynne. There's an end of it now. Just because he can't have everything his own way. He has never forgiven me for being the eldest son and taking the baronetcy. Was it my fault that I was born first?"

"Now, papa, dear, that's talking at random; I don't believe Uncle James ever envied you for having the t.i.tle."

"Then he shouldn't act as if he did. Confound him!"

"Then you'll go up and speak to him. Come, dear, don't let's have this cloud over the house!"

"Cloud? I'll make it a regular tempest," cried Sir John, furiously.

"I'll go upstairs and see that he does go, and at once. See if I ferret him out of his nasty, dark, stuffy, dismal chambers again. Brought him down here, and made a healthy, hearty man of him, and this is my reward."

"Is that you talking, papa?" said Glynne, rising with him, for he made a rush now out of his seat, and she smiled in his face as she put her arms round his neck and kissed him.

"Bah! Get out! Pst! Puss!" cried Sir John, and swinging round, he strode out of the library, and banged the door as if he had caught his brother's habit.

Glynne stood looking after him, smiling as she listened to his steps on the polished oak floor of the hall, and then seemed quite satisfied as she detected the fact that he had gone upstairs. Then it was that a dreamy, strange look came into her eyes, and she stood there, with one hand resting upon the table, thinking--thinking--thinking of the cause of the quarrel, of the words her uncle had spoken regarding Rolph; and it seemed to her that there was a mist before her, stretching out farther and farther, and hiding the future.

For the major was always so gentle and kind to her. He never spoke to her about Rolph as he had spoken to her father; but she had noticed that he was a little cold and sarcastic sometimes towards her lover.

Was there trouble coming? Did she love Robert as dearly as she should?

She wanted answers to these questions, and the responses were hidden in the mist ahead. Then, as she gazed, it seemed to her that her future was like the vast s.p.a.ce into which she had looked from her window by night; and though for a time it was brightened with dazzling, hopeful points, these again became clouded over, and all was misty and dull once more.

Volume 1, Chapter XII.

THE PROFESSOR IN COMPANY.

Sir John went upstairs furiously, taking three steps at a time--twice.

Then he finished that flight two at a time; walked fast up the first half of the second flight, one step at a time; slowly up the second half; paused on the landing, and then went deliberately along the corridor, with its row of painted ancestors watching him from one side, as if wondering when he was coming to join them there.

Sir John Day was a man who soon made up his mind, whether it was about turning an arable field into pasture, or the setting of a new kind of corn. He settled in five minutes to have steam upon the farm, and did not ponder upon Glynne's engagement for more than ten; so that he was able to make his plans very well in the sixty feet that he had to traverse before he reached his brother's door, upon whose panel he gave a tremendous thump, and then entered at once.

The major was in his shirt-sleeves, apparently turning himself into a jack-in-the-box, for he was standing in an old bullock trunk, one which had journeyed with him pretty well all over India; and as Sir John entered the room sharply, and closed the door behind him, the major started up, looking fiercely and angrily at the intruder.

"Oh, you're packing, then?" said Sir John, in the most uncompromising tone.

"Yes, sir, I am packing," said the major, getting out of the trunk, and slamming down the lid; "and I think, sir, that I might be permitted to do that in peace and quietness."

"Peace? Yes, of course you may," said Sir John, sharply, "only you will make it war."

"I was not aware," said the major, "that it was necessary for me to lock my door--I beg your pardon--your door. And now, may I ask the object of this intrusion? If it is to resume the quarrel, you may spare yourself the pains."

"Indeed!" said Sir John shortly.

"Well," continued the major, "why have you come?"

"You are going, then?"

"Of course I am, sir."

"Well, I came to tell you I'm very glad of it," cried Sir John, clapping his brother on the shoulder; and then--"I say, Jem, I wish I hadn't such a peppery temper."

"No, no, Jack, no, no," cried the major, excitedly; "it was I who was to blame."

"Wrong, Jem. I contradicted you--very offensively, too, and I am confoundedly in the wrong. I didn't know it till Glynne came and pulled me up short. I say, it's a great pity for us to quarrel, isn't it?"

"Yes," said the major, laying his hands upon his brother's shoulders, "it is--it is, indeed, Jack, and I can't help thinking that I shall be doing wisely in going back to my old chambers, for this projected wedding worries me. We'll see one another more seldom, and we won't have words together then. You see--no; stop a moment! Let me speak.

You see, I feel my old wound now and then, and it makes me irritable, and then the climate has touched up my liver a bit. Yes, I had better go."

"Don't be a fool, Jem," cried Sir John. "Go, indeed! Why, what the d.i.c.kens do you suppose I should do without you here? Tchah! tush! you go! Absurd. There, get dressed, man, and come down to dinner. No: come along down with me first, and we'll get a bottle or two out of the number six bin. There'll just be time."

The major shook his head, as he looked at the bullock trunk and a very much bruised and battered old portmanteau waiting to be filled.

"Now, Jem, old fellow, don't let's quarrel again," cried Sir John, pathetically.

"No, no, certainly not, my dear Jack. No more quarrelling, but I think this time I'll hold to my word."

"Now, my dear old fellow," cried Sir John, gripping his brother's shoulders more tightly, and shaking him to and fro, "do be reasonable.

Look here: I've asked little Lucy Alleyne to come _sans facon_, and--"

"Is she coming?" cried the major, eagerly.

"Yes, and you can talk toadstools as long as you like."

The major seemed to be hesitating, and he looked curiously at his brother.

"Is Alleyne coming?"

"I asked him, but he is very doubtful; perhaps he is glued to the end of his telescope for the next twelve hours. Here, have that confounded baggage put away."

The major looked a little more thoughtful. He was hesitating, and thinking of Glynne, who just then tapped softly at the door.

"Come in," roared Sir John; and she entered, looked quickly from one to the other, and then went up to her uncle, and kissed him affectionately.