The Hoyden by Margaret Wolfe Hungerford (best value ebook reader TXT) 📖

disagreement is not allowed between a host and hostess--when one is staying in their house, at all events. It is quite simple to get all the quarrelling over beforehand, to so arrange as to look like winged angels when one's house-party is here to see.

He refuses to have anything to do with a swift glance from Mrs. Bethune as he leaves the breakfast-room. He gets quickly past her, disturbed at heart, and going through the hall, turns abruptly towards the stables.

The day is lovely. A sort of Indian summer reigns. And presently most of those staying in the house turn their steps towards the pleasure grounds. The tennis courts have been kept marked, in spite of the fact that the regular tennis season is at an end, and Mr. Gower, who is an indefatigable player, has called on Miss Hescott to get up a double with him.

The idea has evidently caught on, for now everyone seems to be swarming tennis-wards, rackets in hand, and tennis shoes on feet.

Rylton, turning back from the stables an hour later, and with a mind still much upset, finds all the courts occupied, and everyone very much alive. Standing on the top of the stone steps that lead down to one of the courts, he glances sharply round him. No! Tita is not here. Tita, who is a perfect devotee where tennis is concerned. Where is she, then? A second time his glance sweeps the tennis courts, and now his brow grows dark; Hescott is not here, either.

He draws in his breath a little sharply, and without descending the steps, goes round the courts nearest him to where an opening in the wood will lead him beyond fear of conversation.

As he reaches this opening, a voice behind him cries gaily, "Whither away, Sir Maurice?"

He turns and manages to smile pleasantly at Minnie Hescott, who, with Mrs. Bethune, is close behind him. A fancy that Marian has brought Miss Hescott here to say something occurs to him, and he curses himself for the thought. Is he growing suspicious of _everyone?_

"I was going down to one of the lower farms," says he in a light tone. He had not been going there, but the evasion seems impossible to avoid.

"You won't find anything _there,"_ says Mrs. Bethune, smiling at him. She is dressed entirely in black, and from under the huge black hat that shades her face her eyes gleam up at him in a sort of mockery--sad, yet beseeching. She is looking beautiful! Her pale face, so refined; the masses of her rich, red hair shining gorgeously in the clear sunlight.

"No? I shall find old Wicks and his wife, at all events."

"Oh, that? Yes."

"Why, what did you think I was looking for?"

"I really hardly know;" she smiles, and then says quietly, "Why, amusement, of course."

At this moment Minnie Hescott, who detests being left out of anything, determines on boring a way into the _tête-à-tête_ before her.

"Where is Tita?" asks she. "We wanted her for tennis, she is such a good player; but no one could find her."

"Not even your brother?" asks Mrs. Bethune.

"Not even Tom; she disappeared somewhere after breakfast."

"Why, so did he!" and Mrs. Bethune lifts her brows in a very amused fashion.

"Oh no, he didn't," says Minnie Hescott, casting a sudden shrewd glance at her. "He was in the library writing letters till an hour ago. I know that, because I was with him."

"What an excellent sister you are!" says Mrs. Bethune, with a slight laugh.

"Why?" asks Miss Hescott slowly. "Because I was with him?" Her tone is a little dangerous.

"Naturally," says Mrs. Bethune, saving herself promptly. "To be always with one's brother shows devotion indeed; but you forget your _rôle_, don't you? Where has he been for the past hour? You haven't told us that! Surely you have not forsaken him now, when it may be the hour of his extremity." Her tone is jesting, but all through it Rylton can read between the lines.

"He is with Colonel Neilson, at the kennels," replies Miss Hescott promptly.

"Ah, I told you you were a good sister," says Mrs. Bethune.

"Because I said Tom was with Colonel Neilson? Do you think he _isn't_ with him?" asks Minnie, looking at her fixedly.

"My _dear_ girl! What a _bêtise!_ No! Because you take such care to know what he is doing. And so he is now with Colonel Neilson?"

"Yes," shortly.

"I'm afraid I must go," says Sir Maurice; "if I don't catch those Wickses at this hour I shall never catch them at all." He nods to Minnie. For a second his eyes meet Marian's. There is something in them that so satisfies her, that on way back with Minnie she makes herself thoroughly agreeable to that astute damsel. What _was_ there in his eye?--rage, hatred, revenge!

In truth, Rylton's mind is full of evil thoughts as he strides onward into the recesses of the wood. The falling autumn leaves crackle beneath his swift tread, and through the trees the sky shows signs of storm. But what storm in all Nature can be compared with the rage that stirs the heart of man?

Marian Bethune's coverts hints, added to his own suspicions, have set his heart on fire! And that girl's attempts at evasion, her hiding of her brother's faults--all that, too, had been laid bare to him by Marian!

Just now it seems to him as true as life itself that Tita and Tom Hescott have gone for a walk together; somewhere--anywhere beyond the ken of those of her own household. To think that he should have sacrificed his whole life--that he should have married this child, who is less to him that thistledown, to be cast aside by her, and to let her bring down his good name with ignominy to the dust.

He is striding onwards, lost in miserable thought, when suddenly footsteps, coming quickly towards him, rouse him. Someone is laughing. The laughter strikes to his very soul. When people laugh seldom, one always knows their laugh. Before Tom Hescott turns the corner Rylton knows it is his. But his companion!

"Why, there you are, Rylton!" says Colonel Neilson at the top of his voice. "By Jove! well met! We've been disputing about a point in the tenant right down here, and you can set us straight!"

Rylton can hardly account to himself for the terrible revulsion of feeling he endures at this moment. Is it joy? _Can_ it be joy? What is she to him or he to her? Yet positively it is a most thankful joy he feels as he sees these two men approaching him together. After all, Minnie Hescott had been right. It is perhaps worthy of notice that he does not say to himself that Marian Bethune had been wrong!

He sets Colonel Neilson straight on a point or two, and then goes on again, striking now, however, into a pathway that leads him very far from the farm he had proposed to visit. It opens out into a pleasant little green sward dotted with trees, through which the sun glints delicately. One of these trees is a gnarled old oak.

As Rylton steps into this open glade the oak attracts him. He looks at it--first carelessly, and then with sharp interest. What strange fruit is that hanging on it? A foot!--an exquisite little slipper!

He stands still, and looks higher; and there he sees Tita embedded amongst the leaves, half reclining on a giant bough and reading. The book is on her knees, her eyes upon her book.


CHAPTER XX.

HOW TITA TAKES HIGH GROUND, AND HOW SHE BRINGS HER HUSBAND, OF ALL PEOPLE, TO HER FEET.


She looks like a little elf. All at once the pretty beauty of her breaks upon Rylton. The reaction from such extreme doubt of her to a clear certainty has made his appreciation of her kinder--has, perhaps, opened his eyes to the perfections she possesses. However this may be, there is, beyond question, a great deal of remorse in his soul as he walks towards the tree in which she sits enshrined.

How will she receive him? Not a word, save those much-begrudged ones at breakfast, has passed between them since last night; and this hurrying away from the others, does it not mean a dislike to meet _him?_

"You have mounted very high in the world!" says he, stopping beneath the tree and addressing her.

He has come towards her very softly on the grass--so softly that she has not heard his coming. And now, as he speaks, she starts violently, and looks down at him as if surprised out of all measure. In a second, however, she recovers herself.

"True!" says she; "I have married you!"

It is to be still war, then! Rylton bites his lips, but controls himself. It is plain he is not forgiven. But, after all, she has had something to forgive, and more--_far_ more than she even knows. That last suspicion of her was base.

"That is an unkind little speech!" says he gently. "It reminds me that it was you who set _me_ up in the world."

This shaft tells.

Tita colours warmly; her generous soul shrinks from such an accusation.

"I didn't mean that," says she; "you know very well I didn't. I wish," petulantly, "you would go away; I want to read."

"Well, I'm going," says Rylton. As a means of carrying out this promise, he props himself up with a branch of the tree on which she is sitting--a branch on a level with her dainty little silk-clad feet. He has leant both his arms on it, and now involuntarily his eyes rest upon her shoes. "What beautiful feet you have!" says he slowly.

It is a perfectly Machiavellian speech. Tita's feet are beyond argument, and there is not a woman in _this_ world, any way, who has beautiful feet, who doesn't want everyone to tell her all about them.

"No, no; they're nothing," says she, making a pretence of tucking up the much-maligned feet in question under her frock, which basely fails to help her.

But even as she says this she smiles--reluctantly, no doubt; but, still, she _does_ smile--and casts a glance at Rylton from under her long lashes. It is a delightful look--half pleased, half defiant, wholly sweet.

"Forgive me, Tita!" says her husband quickly.

"I don't want you to talk to me like that," says she, with a frown.

"But I must say that. Well, will you?"

"I don't know." She stops, and again casts that pretty glance at him. "At all events, you will have to promise me one thing."

"Anything."

"No; I'm in earnest."

"So am I."

He ventures now to take one of the charming feet so close to him into one of his hands, and strokes the instep softly with the other.

"Oh no! you are never in earnest with me," says the girl. "But what I want you to say is, that you won't do it again."

"Do what?"

"Scold me."

"Never--never!" says Rylton.

"That's a promise, mind."

"I shall mind it."

"Very well--I forgive you."

"Let me bring you back to Mother Earth, then," says Rylton.

"No, thank you; I can take myself down."

"That's being unkind to yourself. Take down your friends if you like, but spare yourself."

"I should like to take _you_ down," says she maliciously.

"Am _I_