The Testing of Diana Mallory Part 71

I thought they'd keep better there than anywhere. It took a lot of time."

"Oh, never mind. You can easily pack them again. I really must go through them."

The maid unwillingly obeyed; and soon the room--bed, sofa, chairs--was covered with costly gowns, for all hours of the day and night: walking-dresses, in autumn stuffs and colors, ready for the moors and stubbles; afternoon frocks of an elaborate simplicity, expensively girlish; evening dresses in an amazing variety of hue and fabric; with every possible adjunct in the way of flowers, gloves, belt, that dressmakers and customer could desire.

Alicia looked at it all with glowing cheeks. She reflected that she had really spent the last check she had made her father give her to very great Advantage. There were very few people of her acquaintance, girls or married women, who knew how to get as much out of money as she did.

In her mind she ran over the list of guests invited to the Eastham party, as her new friend Lady Evelyn had confided it to her. Nothing could be smarter, but the compet.i.tion among the women would be terribly keen. "Of course, I can't touch d.u.c.h.esses," she thought, laughing to herself, "or American millionaires. But I shall do!"

And her mind ran forward in a dream of luxury and delight. She saw herself sitting or strolling in vast rooms amid admiring groups; mirrors reflected her; she heard the rustle of her gowns on parquet or marble, the merry sound of her own laughter; other girls threw her the incense of their envy and imitation; and men, fresh and tanned from shooting, breathing the joy of physical life, devoted themselves to her pleasure, or encircled her with homage. Not always chivalrous, or delicate, or properly behaved--these men of her imagination! What matter? She loved adventures! And moving like a king among the rest, she saw the thin, travel-beaten, eccentric form of Lord Philip--the hated, adored, pursued; Society's idol and bugbear all in one; Lord Philip, who shunned and disliked women; on whom, nevertheless, the ambitions and desires of some of the loveliest women in England were, on that account alone, and at this moment of his political triumph, the more intently and the more greedily fixed.

A flash of excitement ran through her. In Lady Evelyn's letter of that morning there was a mention of Lord Philip. "I told him you were to be here. He made a note of it, and I do at last believe he won't throw us over, as he generally does."

She dressed, still in a reverie, speechless under her maid's hands.

Then, as she emerged upon the gallery, looking down upon the ugly hall of Tallyn, she remembered that she had promised to go back after dinner and read to Oliver. Her nature rebelled in a moral and physical nausea, and it was all she could do to meet Lady Lucy at their solitary dinner with her usual good temper.

CHAPTER XXII

Sir James Chide was giving tea to a couple of guests at Lytchett Manor.

It was a Sat.u.r.day in late September. The beech-trees visible through the drawing-room windows were still untouched and heavily green; but their transformation was approaching. Soon, steeped in incredible splendors of orange and gold, they would stand upon the leaf-strewn gra.s.s, waiting for the night of rain or the touch of frost which should at last disrobe them.

"If you imagine, Miss Ettie," said Sir James, severely, to a young lady beside him, "that I place the smallest faith in any of Bobbie's remarks or protestations--"

The girl addressed smiled into his face, undaunted. She was a small elfish creature with a thin face, on the slenderest of necks. But in her queer little countenance a pair of laughing eyes, out of all proportion to the rest of her for loveliness and effect, gave her and kept her the attention of the world. They lent distinction--fascination even--to a character of simple virtues and girlish innocence.

Bobbie lounged behind her chair, his arms on the back of it. He took Sir James's attack upon him with calm. "Shall I show him the letter of my beastly chairman?" he said, in the girl's ear.

She nodded, and Bobbie drew from his breast-pocket a folded sheet of blue paper, and pompously handed it to Sir James.

The letter was from the chairman of a leading bank in Berlin--a man well known in European finance. It was couched in very civil terms, and contained the offer to Mr. Robert Forbes of a post in the Lindner bank, as an English correspondence clerk, at a salary in marks which, when translated, meant about 140 a year.

Sir James read it, and handed it back. "Well, what's the meaning of that?"

"I'm giving up the Foreign Office," said Bobbie, an engaging openness of manner. "It's not a proper place for a young man. I've learned nothing there but a game we do with Blue-Books, and things you throw at the ceiling--where they stick--I'll tell you about it presently. Besides, you see, I must have some money, and it don't grow in the Foreign Office for people like me. So I went to my uncle, Lord Forestier--"

"Of course!" growled Sir James. "I thought we should come to the uncles before long. Miss Wilson, I desire to warn you against marrying a young man of 'the cla.s.ses.' They have no morals, but they have always uncles."

Miss Wilson's eyes shot laughter at her _fiance_. "Go on, Bobbie, and don't make it too long!"

"I decline to be hustled." Bobbie's tone was firm, though urbane. "I repeat: I went to my uncle. And I said to him, like the unemployed: 'Find me work, and none of your d----d charity!'"

"Which means, I suppose, that the last time you went to him, you borrowed fifty pounds?" said Sir James.

"I shouldn't dream, sir, of betraying my uncle's affairs. On this occasion--for an uncle--he behaved well. He lectured me for twenty-seven minutes and a half--I had made up my mind beforehand not to let it go over the half-hour--and then he came to business. After a year's training and probation in Berlin he thought he could get me a post in his brother-in-law's place in the City. Awfully warm thing, you know,"

said Bobbie, complacently; "worth a little trouble. So I told him, kindly, I'd think of it. Ecco!" He pointed to the letter. "Of course, I told my uncle I should permit him to continue my allowance, and in a year I shall be a merchant prince--in the egg; I shall be worth marrying; and I shall allow Ettie two hundred a year for her clothes."

"And Lady Niton?"

Bobbie sat down abruptly; the girl stared at the carpet.

"I don't see the point of your remark," said Bobbie at last, with mildness. "When last I had the honor of hearing of her, Lady Niton was taking the air--or the waters--at Strathpeffer."

"As far as I know," remarked Sir James, "she is staying with the Feltons, five miles off, at this moment."

Bobbie whistled. "Close quarters!" He looked at Miss Ettie Wilson, and she at him. "May I ask whether, as soon as Ettie and I invited ourselves for the day, you asked Lady Niton to come to tea?"

"Not at all. I never play Providence unless I'm told to do so. Only Miss Mallory is coming to tea."

Bobbie expressed pleasure at the prospect; then his amiable countenance--the face of an "Idle Apprentice," whom no G.o.d has the heart to punish--sobered to a real concern as the a.s.sociation of ideas led him to inquire what the latest news might be of Oliver Marsham.

Sir James shook his head; his look clouded. He understood from Lady Lucy that Oliver was no better; the accounts, in fact, were very bad.

"Did they arrest anybody?" asked Bobbie.

"At Hartingfield? Yes--two lads. But there was not evidence enough to convict. They were both released, and the village gave them an ovation."

Bobbie hesitated.

"What do you think was the truth about that article?"

Sir James frowned and rose.

"Miss Wilson, come and see my garden. If you don't fall down and worship the peaches on my south wall, I shall not pursue your acquaintance."

It was a Sat.u.r.day afternoon. Briefs were forgotten. The three strolled down the garden. Sir James, in a disreputable shooting-coat and cap, his hands deep in his pockets, took the middle of the path--the two lovers on either side. Chide made himself delightful to them. On that Italian journey of which he constantly thought, Ferrier had been amused and cheered all through by Bobbie's nonsense; and the young fellow had loyally felt his death--and shown it. Chide's friendly eye would be on him and his Ettie henceforward.

Five or ten minutes afterward, a brougham drove up to the door of Lytchett, and a small lady emerged. She had rung the bell, and was waiting on the steps, when a pony-carriage also turned into the Lytchett avenue and drew near rapidly.

A girl in a shady hat was driving it.

"The very creature!" cried Lady Niton, under her breath, smartly tapping her tiny boot with the black cane she carried, and referring apparently to some train of meditation in which she had been just engaged. She waved to her own coachman to be off, and stood awaiting Diana.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "SIR JAMES MADE HIMSELF DELIGHTFUL TO THEM"]

"How do you do, Miss Mallory? Are you invited? I'm not."

Diana descended, and they shook hands. They had not met since the evening at Tallyn when Diana, in her fresh beauty, had been the gleaming princess, and Lady Niton the friendly G.o.dmother, of so promising a fairy tale. The old woman looked at her curiously, as they stood in the drawing-room together, while the footman went off to find Sir James.

Frail--dark lines under the eyes--a look as of long endurance--a smile that was a mere shield and concealment for the heart beneath--alack!

And there was no comfort to be got out of calling down fire from heaven on the author of this change, since it had fallen so abundantly already!

"Sit down; you look tired," said the old lady, in her piping, peremptory voice. "Have you been here all the summer?"