CHAPTER NINE.
MR. JACK MELLAND.
In the drawing-room Mr Farrell and his two nephews were standing withtheir backs to the fire, in the position affected by mankind in thattrying wait before dinner. Little Mrs Wolff was stiffly perched uponan uncomfortable chair, twisting her mittened fingers together andlooking supremely uncomfortable, and there appeared to be no attempt atconversation. Everyone looked at the two girls as they crossed the wideroom, and once again Mollie surprised that curious gleam of disapprovalin Victor Druce's veiled eyes. Mr Melland was apparently still on hishigh horse, a faint flush upon his face, his nostrils curved anddilated. As for Uncle Bernard himself, his set face showed no sign ofapproval or the reverse; he simply bowed to his nieces, and waved themtowards a seat, saying curtly--
"Our party is not complete. I have asked the vicar and his wife to dinewith us, and make your acquaintance. They will probably arrive in a fewminutes."
"Oh yes!" said Ruth vaguely. Even Mollie suffered a moment's eclipse,during which she sought in vain for an appropriate remark. It was tooabsurd, she told herself, to sit round the room like mutes at a funeral.What was the use of a lady chaperon if she could not fill up the gapswith harmless inanities? She glanced from one stolid face to another,then made a desperate plunge.
"What time do the posts go, Uncle Bernard? We ought to let mother knowof our arrival."
"I have already directed a telegram to that effect to be despatched.May I suggest that you delay any communication on your own part until wehave had a future conversation."
Checkmate! Mollie gave a vague murmur of assent, and cast about forremark number two.
"It seems so funny to be here and to see all the things we have heardabout so often! I recognise this room quite well from mother'sdescription. There is an alcove behind me, isn't there, with a harp inthe corner?"
"The harp was removed years ago. I imagine there are a great manyalterations since your mother's last visit. The use of the word `funny'is somewhat inappropriate, is it not? I see nothing ludicrous in theposition."
Check number two! Mollie's wide-eyed perturbation was almost patheticin its intensity. She was not accustomed to being snubbed in thispublic fashion, and, after the first shock, a feeling of resentmentbrought the colour rushing into her cheeks.
"I meant `curious.' The two words are often used for each other."
"Mistakenly so. Many situations are curious which are not in the leastdegree amusing."
"They are indeed!" was Mollie's mental comment. "The present, forexample; anything much less festive I fail to imagine." Her lipstwitched involuntarily as the thought passed through her mind, and,looking up, she met Jack Melland's eyes fixed full on her, with ananswering twinkle in their blue depths. For one agonising moment shetrembled upon the brink of laughter, when mercifully the door was thrownopen to announce the arrival of the vicar and his wife. Mr Thorntonwas tall and thin, with a much-lined face full of shrewd kindness andsympathy; his wife was a pretty, plump little woman, who looked onexceedingly good terms with herself and the world at large.
"Thank goodness, they will talk! They look alive, not mere gravenimages," Mollie said to herself thankfully, as the necessaryintroductions were taking place. Then the squire gave his arm to MrsThornton, Mr Thornton offered his in turn to Mrs Wolff, and VictorDruce, evidently obeying a previous instruction, paired off with Ruth,leaving Mollie to his companion.
In silence the little company crossed the hall; in silence they seatedthemselves round the dinner-table and prepared for the feast. Ruth'sgrey eyes were brilliant with excitement as she turned from side toside. She did not want to talk; conversation would have been but aninterruption at the moment; she wanted but to look and to think.
The walls were covered with portraits of ancestors--Captain Farrell whosailed the seas with Nelson's fleet; General Farrell who fought underWellington; Lord Edward Farrell, the famous judge; fresh-faced countrysquires in quaint, old-world costumes. The dim faces looked down fromtheir frames with a curious, haunting likeness running through all; andat the head of the table sat the last of his race, the grim old man towhom death was coming. Ah, it must be hard to look back on so good arace, to realise that no son remained alive to carry on the name, andthat one of the strangers now seated round his own table would shortlyreign in his place!
Ruth thrilled with pity; her beautiful eyes grew soft and dreamy; andthe clergyman, looking at her across the table, could scarcely restrainan exclamation of surprise. He had understood that Mr Farrellpossessed only distant relatives, but this girl was a true chip of theold block; allowing for difference of age and sex, here was the sameface which was repeated again and again upon the walls--the aquilinefeatures, the melancholy lips, the straight heavy brows.
Mr Thornton knew that the time had come when his host was to choose hissuccessor at the Court, and, looking from one to the other of the fouryoung people, he personally felt no doubt as to the one on whom thechoice would fall. Ruth Farrell bore her credentials in her face, andwith a thrill, half painful, half amused, he realised how great a factorin his own life this slim young girl might be. As lady of the Court andhis own patron, she would have it in her power to ensure his comfort orthe reverse. Ah, well, well, it was too early to speculate! The childhad a sweet, good face; no doubt all would be well.
While Ruth and the vicar were absorbed in their own thoughts, Mrs Wolffwas also silent, overcome with the weight of responsibility whichpressed heavily on her unaccustomed shoulders. Little Mrs Thorntonprattled of cheery nothings at the other end of the table, and JackMelland, turning towards his companion, remarked formally--
"I--ah--I think we have met earlier in the day!"
"In the train, you mean; yes! We saw you get out at the station, butyou disappeared so quickly that I could not think what had happened toyou."
"Nothing mysterious. A dogcart had been sent for me. I jumped into itwith my bag, and was out of sight before you had gathered together yourpossessions."
"Ah, yes; we had boxes in the van." Mollie tilted her head to itscharacteristic angle and smiled at him with wide grey eyes. "And youwatched our toilette across the carriage, little guessing it was foryour own benefit. We knew that we were to meet other visitors here, buthad no idea who they were or how many there might be. We imaginedwalking into the midst of a big house-party; hence the preparations. Itwas only natural we should want to look nice."
"Perfectly! I am glad I was fortunate enough to see the result, since Isuppose no one else--"
Mollie shook her head tragically.
"Not a soul! Mrs Wolff met us and sent us straight up to our room. Ifit had not been for you, the new gloves would have been wasted on thedesert air; but now we can console ourselves that our trouble was ofsome use, after all, since at least half the party had the benefit.Were you also despatched straight upstairs?"
"I was. Afterwards, Druce and I had tea in the billiard-room, and wenton to join you in the library. It has been a somewhat tryingopportunity; I sympathised with your conversational efforts beforedinner."
Mollie's brows went up at this, and she made a sceptical little grimace.
"That is not my idea of sympathy! You stood by and watched me flounderwithout making a effort to help. It's not at all pleasant to be snubbedbefore a roomful of strangers. You might easily have remarked that itwas a fine day, or that the train was punctual. Anything is better thana ghastly silence."
"But, you see, I had had my innings before you arrived. As a matter offact I had introduced those very subjects, and added some originalremarks on the beauty of the scenery. I fared no better than you, so myfellow-feeling made me sympathise with you, though I had no spirit totry again."
Mollie laughed under her breath, the influence of her surroundingsinstinctively subduing the usual merry trill. This Mr Melland was anunexpectedly pleasant companion, now that his former gloom andirritability of manner had disappeared. It was as if a dreaded prospecthad been remov
ed, and he was luxuriating in recovered freedom. Molliewondered what the change of circumstances could be; time, no doubt,would show; and, when they had reached a greater degree of intimacy, shewould tease him about his sudden change of front, and treat him to apantomimic imitation of his former gloomy frowns. The prospect pleasedher, and she laughed again, showing the pretty dimples in her cheek,while Jack Melland looked at her inquiringly.
"What's the joke? May I hear it?"
"Oh, nothing--I was just imagining! All sorts of things fly throughone's head, especially to-day, when we really are in an excitingposition. At home my sister and I have a very quiet time, and we getmost of our excitement in dreams. We imagine things until they arealmost real. Don't you know the feeling?"
"No!" cried Mr Melland bluntly. His brows were arched, his nostrilscurved with the old look of scornful superiority. "I have no experienceof the kind, and I don't want to have. It's a dangerous habit. We haveto live among realities, and very commonplace realities, for the mostpart; and it unfits one for work to be dreaming of impossibilities."
"No, no, no; it helps one! It is like a tonic which braces one up forthe ordinary routine."
"It is like a sleeping draught--agreeable for the time, but mischievousand relaxing in its after effects."
Grey eyes met blue with a flash of defiance, then softened into smiles.
"It depends upon disposition," said Mollie firmly. "We find nothingrelaxing about it, but a great deal of innocent amusement. When we areout shopping and want something badly and can't have it, because itcosts five shillings and we only possess half a crown, Ruth says to me,`Let's pretend a letter arrived by the afternoon post to say someone hadleft us a million pounds! What would you do first of all?' Then we cantalk about it for the rest of the walk, and decide what dresses we wouldhave, and where we should live, and the papers we should have in theentertaining room, and the furniture in our bedrooms; and we choosethings out of all the shop-windows as we pass, and decide where theyshall go. I've furnished my house so often that I really know therooms, and love them into the bargain."
"And when you go back into the real house you are discontented andamazed at the contrast."
"Oh dear, no! That would be silly. I am so refreshed by my visit tothe castle that I can laugh over the shabbiness which annoyed me before.You don't think it wrong to read an interesting book? Very well, then,why is it wrong to indulge in a little fiction on one's own account?"
"Wrong is rather a strong word, perhaps, but there is a great differencebetween the two. In reading a book you forget yourself in your interestabout others; in dreams--excuse me--you think constantly of yourself,and play the part of hero. It is a habit which is inclined to make oneconsider oneself the most interesting person on earth."
"Well, so you are! To yourself, I mean; you know you are!" criedMollie, with an innocent _naivete_ which made Mr Melland laugh again.It was seldom, indeed, that anyone was honest enough to confess to self-love, and her candour seemed infectious, for, on the verge ofcontradicting her assertion with regard to himself, a suddenrecollection rushed through him of his own thoughts, doubts, conflicts,and final determination of the past twenty-four hours. Did not everyone of these concern himself as a primary, if not an only, motive? Washe not exercised, first of all, by a sense of his own importance, sothat the wishes of a dying man availed nothing against the preservationof his own dignity? The laugh gave place to a frown as he replied--
"If it is so it ought certainly to be discouraged. One ought notdeliberately to pamper selfishness."
Mollie's eyes dropped to her plate, and her lips pouted in aninvoluntary grimace.
"Rather inclined to preach," she said to herself naughtily, "and sointensely practical and matter of fact! I must devote myself to theeducation of his higher faculties. I shall have something to say toyou, Mr Jack Melland, the first time that will of yours comes intoopposition with my own.--`One ought not deliberately to pamperselfishness.'--Delightful sentence! I must not forget it."