CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
JEALOUS THOUGHTS.
Peggy felt weak and shaken for some days after her fright, and wasthankful to stay quietly indoors and busy herself with her new task.The gas-fire could be turned on in her room whenever she desired, and atevery spare moment she ran upstairs, locked her door behind her, andbegan to write. Robert insisted that the work should be kept secret,and that not a word should be said about the competition downstairs, forhe was sensitive about the remarks of his companions, and anxious tokeep a possible failure to himself. All the work had to be doneupstairs, therefore, and the frequent absence of the partners from theschoolroom, though much regretted, did not seem at all inexplicable tothe others. It was understood that Peggy and Robert had some interestin common; but as winter advanced this was no unusual occurrence in ahouse where Christmas was a carnival, and surprises of an elaboratenature were planned by every member of the household. It was taken forgranted that the work had some connection with Christmas, and inquirieswere discreetly avoided.
With an old calendar before her as a model for the lettering, Peggy didher work neatly and well, and the gilt "arabesques" had an artisticflourish which was quite professional. When Robert was shown the firsthalf-dozen sheets he whistled with surprise, and exclaimed, "Good oldMariquita!" a burst of approval before which Peggy glowed with delight.It had been agreed that, after printing the first ten days of January,Peggy should go on to the first ten of February, and so on throughoutthe year, so that Rob should be able to use what quotations had alreadybeen found under each heading, and should not be detained until thewhole thirty or thirty-one had been chosen.
The partners were most fastidious in their selection at the beginning oftheir work; but when half the time had passed, and not one-third of thenecessary number of quotations had been found, alarm seized upon thecamp, and it was realised that a little more latitude must be shown.
"We shall have to use up all the old ones which we struck off the list,"said Rob disconsolately. "I'm sorry; but I never realised before thatthree hundred and sixty-five was such an outrageously large number. Andwe shall have to get books of extracts, and read them through frombeginning to end. Nearly two hundred more to find; a hundred and fifty,say, when we have used up those old ones! It will take us all ourtime!"
"I'll get up at six every morning and read by my fire," said Peggyfirmly. "If it's necessary, I'll get up at five, and if I can't findbits to suit all the stupid old things, I'll--I'll write some myself!There! Why shouldn't I? I often make up things in my head, and youwouldn't believe how fine they are. I think of them days afterwards,and ask myself, `Now where did I read that?' and then it comes back tome. `Dear me; I made it up myself!' If we get very short, Rob, therewouldn't be any harm in writing a few sentences and signing them`Saville,' would there?"
"Not if they were good enough," said Rob, trying to suppress the laughwhich would have hurt Peggy's feelings, and looking with twinkling eyesat the little figure by his side, so comically unprofessional, with herlace collar, dainty little feet, and pigtail of dark brown hair.
"You mustn't get up too early in the morning and overtire yourself. Ican't allow that!" he added firmly. "You have looked like a littlewhite ghost the last few days, and your face is about the size of myhand. You must get some colour into your cheeks before the holidays, orthat beloved Arthur will think we have been ill-treating you when hecomes down."
Peggy gave a sharp sigh, and relapsed into silence. It was the rarestthing in the world to hear her allude to any of her own people. When aletter arrived, and Mrs Asplin asked questions concerning father,mother, or brother, she answered readily enough, but she never offeredinformation, or voluntarily carried on the conversation. Friends lesssympathetic might have imagined that she was so happy in her new homethat she had no care beyond it, but no one in the vicarage made thatmistake. When the Indian letter was handed to her across thebreakfast-table, the flush of delight on the pale cheeks brought areflected smile to every face, and more than one pair of eyes watchedher tenderly as she sat hugging the precious letter, waiting until themoment should come when she could rush upstairs and devour its contentsin her own room. Once it had happened that mail day had arrived andbrought no letter, and that had been a melancholy occasion. Mrs Asplinhad looked at one envelope after another, had read the addresses twice,thrice, even four times over, before she summoned courage to tell of itsabsence.
"There is no letter for you to-day, Peggy!" Her voice was full ofcommiseration as she spoke, but Peggy sat in silence, her facestiffened, her head thrown back with an assumption of calm indifference."There must have been some delay in the mail. You will have twoletters next week, dearie, instead of one."
"Probably," said Peggy. Mellicent was staring at her with big, roundeyes; the vicar peered over the rim of his spectacles; Esther passed themarmalade with eager solicitude; her friends were all full of sympathy,but there was a "Touch-me-if-you-dare!" atmosphere about Peggy that daywhich silenced the words on their lips. It was evident that shepreferred to be left alone, and though her eyes were red when she camedown to lunch, she held her chin so high, and joined in the conversationwith such an elegant flow of language, that no one dare comment on thefact. Two days later the letter arrived, and all was sunshine again;but, in spite of her cheery spirits, her friends realised that Peggy'sheart was not in the vicarage, and that there were moments when theloneliness of her position pressed on her, and when she longed intenselyfor someone of her very own, whose place could not be taken by even thekindest of friends.
Like most undemonstrative people, Peggy dearly loved to be appreciated,and to receive marks of favour from those around. Half the zest withwhich she entered into her new labour was owing to the fact that Roberthad chosen her from all the rest to be his partner. She was aglow withsatisfaction in this fact, and with pleasure in the work itself, and theonly cloud which darkened her horizon at the present moment was causedby those incidental references to the fair Rosalind which fell so oftenfrom her companions' lips.
"Everything," said Peggy impatiently to herself, "everything ends inRosalind! Whatever we are talking about, that stupid girl's name isbound to be introduced! I asked Mellicent if she would have a scone attea this afternoon, and she said something about Rosalind in reply--Rosalind liked scones, or she didn't like scones, or some ridiculousnonsense of the sort! Who wants to know what Rosalind likes? I don't!I'm sick of the name! And Mrs Asplin is as silly as the rest! Thegirls must have new dresses because Rosalind is coming, and they will beasked to tea at the Larches! If their green dresses are good enough forus, why won't they do for Rosalind, I should like to know? Rob is theonly sensible one. I asked him if she were really such a marvellouscreature, and he said she was an affected goose! He ought to knowbetter than anyone else! Curls indeed! One would think it wassomething extraordinary to have curls! My hair would curl too, if Ichose to make it, but I don't; I prefer to have it straight! If she isthe `Honourable Rosalind,' I am Mariquita Saville, and I'm not going tobe patronised by anybody--so there!" and Peggy tossed her head, andglared at the reflection in the glass in a lofty and scornful manner, asthough it were the offending party who had had the audacity to assumesuperiority.
Robert was one with Peggy in hoping that his people would not leave townuntil such time as the calendar should be despatched on its travels, forwhen they were installed at the Larches he was expected to be at homeeach week from Saturday until Monday, and the loss of that long holidayafternoon would interfere seriously with the work on hand. He had seenso little of his people for the last few years, that he would beexpected to be sociable during the short time that he was with them, andcould hardly shut himself up in his room for hours at a time. Despairthen settled down upon both partners, when a letter arrived to say thatthe Darcy family were coming down even earlier than had been expected,and summoning Robert to join them at the earliest possible moment.
"This is awful!" cried the lad, ruffling his hair with a b
ig, restlesshand. "I know what it means--not only Saturdays off, but two or threenights during the week into the bargain! Between you and me, Mariquita,the governor is coming down here to economise, and intends to stay muchlonger than usual. Hector has been getting into debt again; he's theeldest, you know--the one in the Life Guards. It's a lot too bad, forhe has had it all his own way so far, and when he runs up bills likethis, everyone has to suffer for it. Mother hates the country for morethan a few weeks at a time, and will be wretched if she is kept here allthrough the winter. I know how it will be: she will keep asking peopledown, and getting up all sorts of entertainments to relieve the dulness.It's all very well in its way, but just now when I need every minute--"
"Shall you give up trying for the prize?" asked Peggy faintly, and Robthrew back his head with emphatic disclaimer.
"I never give up a thing when I have made up my mind to do it! Thereare ten days still, and a great deal can be done in ten days. I'll takea couple of books upstairs with me every night, and see if I can findsomething fresh. There is one good thing about it, I shall have a freshstock of books to choose from at the Larches. It is the last step thatcosts in this case. It was easy enough to fix off the first hundred,but the last is a teaser!"
On Saturday morning a dogcart came over to convey Robert to the Larches,and the atmosphere of the vicarage seemed charged with expectation andexcitement. The Darcys had arrived; to-morrow they would appear atchurch; on Monday they would probably drive over with Rob and pay acall. These were all important facts in a quiet country life, andseemed to afford unlimited satisfaction to every member of thehousehold. Peggy grew so tired of the name of Darcy that she retired toher room at eight o'clock, and was busy at work over the September batchof cards, when a knock came to the door, and she had to cover them overwith the blotting-paper to admit Mellicent in her dressing-gown, withher hair arranged for the night in an extraordinary number of littleplaited pigtails.
"Will you fasten the ends for me, Peggy, please?" she requested. "WhenI do it, the threads fall off, and the ends come loose. I want it to bespecially nice for to-morrow!"
"But it will look simply awful, Mellicent, if you leave it like this.It will be frizzed out almost on a level with your head. Let me do itup in just two tight plaits; it will be far, far nicer," urged Peggy,lifting one little tail after another, and counting their number indismay. But no, Mellicent would not be persuaded. The extra plaitswere a tribute to Rosalind, a mark of attention to her on her arrivalwith which she would suffer no interference; and as a consequence of herstubbornness she marched to church next morning disfigured by a mop ofuntidy, tangled hair, instead of the usual glossy locks.
Peggy preserved a demeanour of stately calm, as she waited for thearrival of the Darcy family, but even she felt a tremor of excitementwhen the verger hobbled up to the square pew and stood holding the dooropen in his hand. The heads of the villagers turned with one consent tothe doorway; only one person in the church disdained to move herposition, but she heard the clatter of horses' hoofs from without, andpresently the little procession passed the vicarage pew, and she couldindulge her curiosity without sacrifice to pride. First of all cameLord Darcy, a thin, oldish man, with a face that looked tired and kind,and faintly amused by the amount of attention which his entrance hadattracted. Then his wife, a tall, fair woman, with a beautiful profile,and an air of languid discontent, who floated past with rustling silkenskirts, leaving an impression of elegance and luxury, which made MrsAsplin sigh and Mellicent draw in her breath with a gasp of rapture.Then followed Robert with his shaggy head, scowling more fiercely thanever in his disgust at finding himself an object of attention, and lastof all a girlish figure in a grey dress, with a collar of soft, fluffychinchilla, and a velvet hat with drooping brim, beneath which could beseen a glimpse of a face pink and white as the blossoms of spring, and amass of shining, golden hair. Peggy shut her lips with a snap, and theiron entered into her soul. It was no use pretending any longer! Thiswas Rosalind, and she was fairer, sweeter, a hundred times morebeautiful than she had ever imagined!