temperament, and she takes things as they come. Here we camefrom the North of Ireland, from a little town where we were highlylooked up to, where we knew every man, woman and child in the place. Wecame here, and, as I say, we are boycotted."
Miss Burton looked at him severely. "George, I do not think it is verygood taste of you to inflict your grievances upon these gentlemen, whohave just come to make an afternoon call. Don't you think you couldsoothe your nerves better by getting back to your laboratory, orwhatever you call it?"
Mr Burton accepted the hint, and rose. He waved a genial hand towardsthe visitors.
"You will excuse me for a few moments. I have a most importantexperiment on. But I shall be back very shortly: I shall see you againbefore you leave."
The two young men devoutly wished that they might not see him again.The man was a confirmed and innate vulgarian. Both he and his sister,no doubt, felt very sore about their social ostracism, but how differentwere the methods of expression indulged in by the two. She explainedthe situation with a proud dignity, hiding her chagrin with a show ofindifference. He was exposing his gaping wounds to the public eye withan air of ostentation.
"I must ask you to excuse my brother," said Miss Burton when herebullient relative had left the room. "He has the true Irishtemperament, it is impossible for him to conceal his feelings. He wouldlike to go down the High Street, trailing his coat behind him, andinviting the residents to tread upon it, in real Irish fashion, so thathe could indulge in a free fight with them."
The young men laughed cordially. They felt that a somewhat awkwardsituation had been saved by her ready tact, her rather humorousexplanation.
But Murchison, the more level-headed of the two, looked at her veryfixedly, as he said, "But you are Irish, too. How is it that you havelearned to control your feelings so successfully?"
At such a direct question, he would have expected her to flush a little;at any rate, show some slight symptoms of embarrassment. But thisremarkably self-possessed girl of twenty or thereabouts was as cool as acucumber. She laughed her little silvery laugh.
"My brother and I are as wide apart as the North and South Poles," shesaid lightly. "Many people have commented on the fact. Would you liketo know the reason?"
She directed a rather challenging glance in the direction of Pomfret,whom she rightly judged to be more susceptible to feminine influencethan his friend.
"I should like to very much," was the subaltern's answer. That eloquentglance had completely subjugated the young man.
"Well, listen. My father was a hard-riding, gambling, hard-drinkingIrish squire, who squandered his money and left little but debts behindhim. My brother takes after him in certain qualities, thank Heaven nothis least desirables ones. My mother was an Englishwoman, rather apuritanical sort of woman, who fell in love, perhaps a littleinjudiciously, and I think wore her life out in the attempt to curb myfather's unhappy propensities. I take after my mother. You understand?George is really my half-brother by my father's first wife."
Pomfret nodded his head gravely. "I quite understand," he said, and histone was one of conviction. Murchison preserved a benevolent attitudeof neutrality. He was still thinking it all out.
Miss Burton was very pretty, nay, more than pretty, very charming, veryattractive, gifted with a marvellous self-possession, very clever, veryadroit. But was she as genuine and frank as she seemed? Pomfretevidently thought so, but Murchison was not quite sure.
Mr George Burton, who took after his Irish father in several respects,according to his sister's account, made a re-appearance before thevisitors left. There had been just a little suspicion at first that hehad been indulging in the hard-drinking habits of his male parent. Ifso, that suspicion must be at once removed. He was bright, breezy andblusterous, but he was certainly master of himself. He advanced withthe most cordial air.
"Gentlemen, I feel I owe you an apology. I had no right to intrude myprivate grievances upon you, even although I am very possessed withthem. Please put it down to my Irish temperament. You will forgive me,I am sure."
He stretched out appealing hands, the hands of the plebeian as Murchisonwas quick to notice, nails bitten to the quick, coarse fingers andthumbs.
Murchison quietly ignored the outstretched hand. So did Pomfret,subjugated as he was with the charm and attractiveness of Miss Burton.He did not quite feel that he wanted to shake hands with this veryterrible brother, who took after his Irish father.
"I apologise most sincerely, gentlemen," he repeated, "for my outburstjust now. I had no right to inflict upon you a recital of my privategrievances against the inhabitants of this wretched town. But I am awild, excitable Irishman, whatever is in my mind has to come out.Please forgive me; I know my sister Norah never will."
He looked appealingly at the girl who sat there, calm and self-possessedas always, with a slight expression of contempt upon her charming face.
"I have already made excuses for you to Captain Murchison and MrPomfret," she said coldly.
The visitors were very much embarrassed. What could they say to thisdreadful person who seemed so utterly lacking in all the qualities ofgood breeding? Hugh remained silent, Pomfret opened his lips andmurmured something about the whole affair being very regrettable.
But these somewhat incoherent remarks were quite enough to restore MrBurton to his normal state of easy buoyancy. He smiled affably.
"So that is all over. Well, I am delighted to see you, and it will notbe my fault if your first visit is your last. Now, I propose you comeround and have a little bit of dinner with us soon, so that we may getto know each other better. Any night that you are at liberty will suitus. _We_ are not overwhelmed with invitations, as you can understandfrom what I have told you."
If Murchison had been by himself, he would have politely shelved theinvitation. Miss Burton, who took after her English mother, was quitedecent and ladylike. The brother was insufferable. Vulgarity, so tospeak, oozed from him. He was offensive even in his geniality. Inshort, he was impossible.
But Pomfret took the wind out of his senior's sails.
"Sorry we are quite full up this week, but hardly anything on next.Shall we say Monday?"
Miss Burton took the matter out of her brother's hands by turningdirectly to Murchison.
"Monday, of course, will suit us. Will it suit you?" she asked himpointedly.
Taken by surprise, the unhappy young man could only mutter a reluctantaffirmative. A few minutes later they left, pledged to partake of theBurtons' hospitality on the following Monday.
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When they were safely outside, Murchison spoke severely to his brotherofficer.
"You've let us in for a nice thing. If you had left it to me, I wouldhave got out of that dinner somehow."
"But I didn't want to get out of it," replied the unabashed junior. "Weknew the brother was pretty bad all along. I don't know that on thewhole he is much worse than we imagined. But she's a ripping girl. Iwant to see more of her."
"You silly young ass," growled Murchison; "I believe you've fallen headover ears in love with her."
And Pomfret, one of the most mercurial and light-hearted of subalterns,answered quite gravely:
"I rather fancy I have. I've never met a girl who appealed to me inquite the same sort of way."
CHAPTER THREE.
As a result of his visit to Rosemount, Hugh Murchison was very perturbedin his mind. He blamed himself severely for having been tempted intothat rather intimate conversation at the tea-shop. Miss Burton wasattractive enough, and ladylike enough, to excuse any man for takingadvantage of his obvious opportunities, but he had been a fool to gofarther. He ought never to have set his foot in the house of people ofwhom he knew nothing.
It was all Jack Pomfret's fault, he decided hastily. It was hisinfluence, his keen desire to make the girl's acquaintance, that hadweighed down his friend's prudence. For, if left to
himself, Hugh wasquite sure that he would have dallied and dallied till all inclinationto call at Rosemount had died down.
And Pomfret had owned to being greatly impressed with the fair youngchatelaine. He had admitted that he had never met a girl who hadappealed to him in quite the same sort of way. In fact, it was easy tosee he had fallen desperately in love with her.
And Jack was just one of those light-hearted, susceptible sort of chapswho have not an atom of common-sense in their composition, who will obeytheir impulses, regardless of consequences.
And he was not his own master. His career was practically at thedisposal of his somewhat puritanical aunt. It was just on the cardsthat Jack would be mad enough to propose to this girl who had sobewitched him. One could imagine how the aunt would receive such acommunication.
There was one little ray