CHAPTER II.
THE ARRIVAL.
A great deal of hard work was done during the following week. Theremodelling of the outfit was no light labor: but Pamela was steady toher trust, in her usual practical style. She trimmed, and fitted, andcut, until the always-roughened surface of her thin forefinger wasrougher than ever. She kept Theo at work at the smaller tasks she choseto trust to her, and watched her sharply, with no shadow of the softenedmood she had given the candle-lighted bedroom a glimpse of. She was assevere upon any dereliction from duty as ever, and the hardness of hergeneral demeanor was not a whit relaxed. Indeed, sometimes Theo foundherself glancing up furtively from her tasks, to look at the thin, sharpface, and wondering if she had not dreamed that her arms had clasped athrobbing, shaken form, when they faced together the ghost of long deadlove.
But the preparations were completed at last, and the trunks packed; andLady Throckmorton had written to say that her carriage would meet heryoung relative's arrival. So the time came when Theo, in giving herfarewell kisses, clung a little closely about Pamela's neck, and whenthe cab-door had been shut, saw her dimly through the smoky glass, andthe mistiness in her eyes; saw her shabby dress, and faded face, andhalf-longed to go back; remembered sadly how many years had passed sinceshe had left the dingy sea-port town to go to London, and meet her fate,and lose it, and grow old before her time in mourning it; saw her, lastof all, and so was whirled up the street, and out of sight. And in likemanner she was whirled through the thronged streets of London, when shereached that city at night, only that Lady Throckmorton's velvet-linedcarriage was less disposed to rattle and jerk over the stones, and moredisposed to an aristocratic, easily-swung roll than the musty vehicle ofthe Downport cabman.
There was a queer, excited thrill in her pulses as she leaned back,watching the gaslights gleaming through the fog, and the people passingto and fro beneath the gaslights. She was so near her journey's end thatshe began to feel nervous. What would Lady Throckmorton look like? Howwould she receive her? How would she be dressed? A hundred such simple,girlish wonders crowded into her mind. She would almost have been gladto go back--not quite, but almost. She had a lingering, inconsistentrecollection of the contents of her trunks, and the sapphires, whichwas, nevertheless, quite natural to a girl so young, and so unused toeven the most trivial luxuries. She had never possessed a rich orcomplete costume in her life; and there was a wondrous novelty in theanticipation of wearing dresses that were not remodelled from Pamela'sor her mother's cast-off garments.
When the carriage drew up before the door of the solid stone house, inthe solid-looking, silent square, she required all her courage. Therewas a glare of gaslight around the iron grating, and a glare of gaslightfrom the opening door, and then, after a little confusion of entrance,she found herself passing up a stair-case, under the guidance of aservant, and so was ushered into a large, handsome room, and formallyannounced.
An elderly lady was sitting before the fire reading, and on hearingTheo's name, she rose, and came forward to meet her. Of course, it wasLady Throckmorton, and, having been a beauty in her long past day, evenat sixty-five Lady Throckmorton was quite an imposing old person. Evenin her momentary embarrassment, Theo could not help noticing her bright,almond-shaped brown eyes, and the soft, close little curls of finesnow-white hair, that clustered about her face under her rich,black-lace cap.
"Theodora North, is it?" she said, offering her a wrinkled yet strongwhite hand. "I am glad to see you, Theodora. I was afraid you would betoo late for Sir Dugald's dinner, and here you are just in time. I hopeyou are well, and not tired."
Theo replied meekly. She was quite well, and not at all tired, whichseemed to satisfy her ladyship, for she nodded her handsome old headapprovingly.
"Very well, then, my dear," she said. "I will ring for Splaighton totake you up-stairs, and attend to you. Of course, you will want tochange your dress for dinner, and you have not much time. Sir Dugaldnever waits for anybody, and nothing annoys him more than to have dinnerdetained."
Accordingly, greatly in awe of Sir Dugald, whoever he might be, Theodorawas pioneered out of the room again, and up another broad stair-case,into an apartment as spacious and luxurious as the one below. There hertoilet was performed and there the gray satin was donned in sometrepidation, as the most suitable dress for the occasion.
She stepped before the full-length mirror to look at herself beforegoing down, and as she did so, she was conscious that her waiting-womanwas looking at her too in sedate approval. The gray satin was verybecoming. Its elaborate richness and length of train changed theundeveloped girl, to whom she had given a farewell glance in the smallmirror at Downport, to the stateliest of tall young creatures. Her barearms and neck were as soft and firm as a baby's; her _riant_, un-Englishface seemed all aglow of color and mellow eyes. But for the presence ofthe maid, she would have uttered a little cry of pleasure, she was sonew to herself.
It was like a dream, the going down-stairs in the light and brightness,and listening to the soft sweep of the satin train; but it wassingularly undream-like to be startled as she was by the rushing of ahuge Spanish mastiff, which bounded down the steps behind her, andbounding upon her dress, nearly knocked her down. The animal came like arush of wind, and simultaneously a door opened and shut with a bang; andthe man who came out to follow the dog, called to him in a voice sorough that it might have been a rush of wind also.
"Sabre!" he shouted. "Come back, you scoundrel!" and then his heavy feetsounded upon the carpet. "The deuce!" he said, in an odd, low mutter,which sounded as though he was speaking half to her, half to himself."My lady's protege, is it? The other Pamela! Rather an improvement onPamela, too. Not so thin."
Theo blushed brilliantly--a full-blown rose of a blush, and hesitated,uncertain what etiquette demanded of her under the circumstances. Shedid not know very much about etiquette, but she had an idea that thiswas Sir Dugald, whoever Sir Dugald might be. But Sir Dugald set her mindat rest on nearing her.
"Good-evening, Theodora," he said, unceremoniously. "Of course, it isTheodora."
Theo bowed, and blushed more brilliantly still.
"All the better," said this very singular individual. "Then I haven'tmade a mistake," and, reaching, as he spoke, the parlor door at the footof the stairs, and finding that the mastiff was stretched upon the mat,he favored him with an unceremonious, but not unfriendly kick, and thenopened the door, the dog preceding them into the room with slowstateliness.
"You are a quick dresser, I am glad to see, Theodora," said LadyThrockmorton, who awaited them. "Of course, there is no need ofintroducing you two to each other. Sir Dugald does not usually wait forceremonies."
Sir Dugald looked down at the lovely face at his side with a ponderousstare. He might have been admiring it, or he might not; at any rate, hewas favoring it with a pretty close inspection.
"I believe Sir Dugald has not introduced himself to me," said Theo, insome confusion. "He knew that I was Theodora North; but I--"
"Oh!" interposed her ladyship, as collectedly as if she had scarcelyexpected anything else, "I see. Sir Dugald Throckmorton. Theodora--youruncle."
By way of returning Theo's modest little recognition of thepresentation, Sir Dugald nodded slightly, and, after giving her anotherstare, turned to his mastiff, and laid a large muscular hand upon hishead. He was not a very prepossessing individual, Sir DugaldThrockmorton.
Lady Throckmorton seemed almost entirely oblivious of her husband'spresence; she solaced herself by ignoring him.
When they rose from the table together, the authoritative old ladymotioned Theo to a seat upon one of the gay foot-stools near her.
"Come and sit down by me," she said. "I want to talk to you, Theodora."
Theo obeyed with some slight trepidation. The rich-colored old browneyes were so keen as they ran over her. But she seemed to be satisfiedwith her scrutiny.
"You are a very pretty girl, Theodora," she said. "How old are you?"
"I am sixteen," answered
Theo.
"Only sixteen," commented my lady. "That means only a baby in Downport,I suppose. Pamela was twenty when she came to London, and Iremember--Well, never mind. Suppose you tell me something about yourlife at home. What have you been doing all these sixteen years?"
"I had always plenty to do," Theo answered. "I helped Pamela with thehousework and the clothes-mending. We did not keep any servant, so wewere obliged to do everything for ourselves."
"You were?" said the old lady, with a side-glance at the girl's slight,dusky hands. "How did you amuse yourself when your work was done?"
"We had not much time for amusements," Theo replied, demurely, in spiteof her discomfort under the catechism; "but sometimes, on idle days, Iread or walked on the beach with the children, or did Berlin-wool work."
"What did you read?" proceeded the august catechist. She liked to hearthe girl talk.
"Love stories," more demurely still, "and poetry, and sometimes history;but not often history--love stories and poetry oftenest."
The clever old face was studying her with a novel sort of interest. Uponthe whole, my lady was not sorry she had sent for Theodora North.
"And, of course, being a Downport baby, you have never had a lover.Pamela never had a lover before she came to me."
A lover. How Theodora started and blushed now to be sure!
"No, madame," she answered, and, in a perfect wonder of confusion,dropped her eyes, and was silent.
But the very next instant she raised them again at the sound of the dooropening. Somebody was coming in, and it was evidently somebody who felthimself at home, and at liberty to come in as he pleased, and when thefancy took him, for he came unannounced entirely.
Theo found herself guilty of the impropriety of gazing at himwonderingly as he came forward, but Lady Throckmorton did not seem atall surprised.
"I have been expecting you, Denis," she said. "Good-evening! Here isTheodora North. You know I told you about her."
Theo rose from her footstool at once, and stood up tall and straight--ayoung sultana, the youngest and most innocent-looking of sultanas, inunimperial gray satin. The gentleman was looking at her with a pair ofthe handsomest eyes she had ever seen in her life.
Then he made a low, ceremonious bow, which had yet a sort of indolencein its very ceremony, and then having done this much, he sat down, as ifhe was very much at home indeed.
"I thought I would run in on my way to Broome street," he said. "I amobliged to go to Miss Gower's, though I am tired out to-night."
"Obliged!" echoed her ladyship.
"Well--yes," the gentleman answered, with cool negligence. "Obliged inone sense. I have not seen Priscilla for a week."
The handsome, strongly-marked old eyebrows went up.
"For a week," remarked their owner, quite sharply. "A long time to beabsent."
It was rather unpleasant, Theodora thought, that they should both seemso thoroughly at liberty to say what they pleased before her, as if shewas a child. Their first words had sufficed to show her that "MissGower's"--wherever Miss Gower's might be, or whatever order of place itwas--was a very objectionable place in Lady Throckmorton's eyes.
"Well--yes," he said again. "It is rather a long time, to tell thetruth."
He seemed determined that the matter should rest here, for he changedthe subject at once, having made this reply, thereby proving to Theothat he was used to having his own way, even with Lady Throckmorton. Hewas hard-worked, it seemed, from what he said, and had a great deal ofwriting to do. He was inclined to be satirical, too, in a carelessfashion, and knew quite a number of literary people, and said a greatmany sharp things about them, as if he was used to them, and stood in noawe whatever of them and their leonine greatness. But he did not talk toher, though he looked at her now and then; and whenever he looked ather, his glance was a half-admiring one, even while it was evident thathe was not thinking much about her. He did not remain with them verylong, scarcely an hour, and yet she was almost sorry to see him go. Itwas so pleasant to sit silent and listen to these two worldly ones, asthey talked about their world. But he had promised Priscilla that hewould bring her a Greek grammar she required; and a broken promise was asin unpardonable in Priscilla's eyes.
When he was gone, and they had heard the hall-door close upon him, thestillness was broken in upon by my lady herself.
"Well, my dear," she said, to Theodora. "What is your opinion of Mr.Denis Oglethorpe?"
"He is very handsome," said Theo, in some slight embarrassment. "And Ithink I like him very much. Who is Priscilla, aunt?"
She knew that she had said something amusing by Lady Throckmorton'slaughing quietly.
"You are very like Pamela, Theodora," she said. "It sounds very likePamela--what Pamela used to be--to be interested in Priscilla."
"I hope it wasn't rude?" fluttered the poor little rose-colored sultana.
"Not at all," answered Lady Throckmorton. "Only innocent. But I can tellyou all about Priscilla in a dozen words. Priscilla is a modern Sappho.Priscilla is an elderly young lady, who never was a girl--Priscilla ismy poor Denis Oglethorpe's _fiancee_."
"Oh!" said Theodora.
Her august relative drew her rich silk skirts a little farther away fromthe heat of the fire, and frowned slightly; but not at Theodora--atPriscilla, in her character of _fiancee_.
"Yes," she went on. "And I think you would agree with me in saying poorDenis Oglethorpe, if you could see Priscilla."
"Is she ugly?" asked Theo, concisely.
"No," sharply. "I wish she was; but at twenty-two she is elderly, as Isaid just now--and she never was anything else. She was elderly whenthey were engaged, five years ago."
"But why--why didn't they get married five years ago, if they wereengaged?"
"Because they were too poor," Lady Throckmorton explained; "becauseDenis was only a poor young journalist, scribbling night and day, andscarcely earning his bread and butter."
"Is he poor now?" ventured Theo again.
"No," was the answer. "I wish he was, if it would save him from theGowers. As it is, I suppose, if nothing happens to prevent it, he willmarry Priscilla before the year is out. Not that it is any business ofmine, but that I am rather fond of him--very fond of him, I might say,and I was once engaged to his father."
Theo barely restrained an ejaculation. Here was another romance--and shewas so fond of romances. Pamela's love-story had been a great source ofdelight to her; but if Mr. Oglethorpe's father had been anything likethat gentleman himself, what a delightful affair Lady Throckmorton'slove-story must have been! The comfortable figure in the arm-chair ather side caught a glow of the faint halo that surrounded poor Pam; butin this case the glow had a more roseate tinge, and was altogether freefrom the funereal gray that in Pamela always gave Theo a sense ofsympathizing discomfort.
The next day she wrote to Pamela:
"I have not had time yet to decide how I like Lady Throckmorton," she said. "She is very kind to me, and asks a good many questions. I think I am a little afraid of her; but perhaps that is because I do not know her very well. One thing I am sure of, she doesn't like either Sir Dugald or his dog very much. We had a caller last night--a gentleman. A Mr. Denis Oglethorpe, who is a very great favorite of Lady Throckmorton. He is very handsome, indeed. I never saw any one at all like him before--any one half so handsome and self-possessed. I liked him very much because he talked so well, and was so witty. I had on the gray satin when he came, and the train hung beautifully. I am glad we made it with a train, Pamela. I think I shall wear the purple cloth to-night, as Lady Throckmorton said that perhaps he might drop in again, and he knows so many grand people, that I should like to look nice. There seems to be a queer sort of friendship between aunt and himself, though somehow I fancied he did not care much about what she said to him. He is engaged to be married to a very accomplished young lady, and has been for several years; but they were both too poor to be married until now.
The young lady's name is Priscilla Gower; and Lady Throckmorton does not like her, which seems very strange to me. She is as poor as we are, I should imagine, for she gives French and Latin lessons, and lives in a shabby house. But I don't think that is the reason Lady Throckmorton does not like her. I believe it is because she thinks she is not suited to Mr. Oglethorpe. I hope she is mistaken, for Mr. Oglethorpe is very nice indeed, and very clever. He is a journalist, and has written a book of beautiful poetry. I found the volume this morning, and have been reading it all day. I think it is lovely; but Lady Throckmorton says he wrote it when he was very young, and makes fun of it now. I don't think he ought to, I am sure. I shall buy a copy before I return, and bring it home to show you. I will write to mamma in a day or so. With kisses and love, and a hundred thanks again for the dresses, I remain, my dearest Pamela, your loving and grateful,
"THEO."