CHAPTER XVI

LEADS TO A SMALL SKIRMISH BETWEEN ROSE AND EVAN

Lady Jocelyn belonged properly to that order which the Sultans and the

Roxalanas of earth combine to exclude from their little games, under the

designation of blues, or strong-minded women: a kind, if genuine, the

least dangerous and staunchest of the sex, as poor fellows learn when the

flippant and the frail fair have made mummies of them. She had the

frankness of her daughter, the same direct eyes and firm step: a face

without shadows, though no longer bright with youth. It may be charged to

her as one of the errors of her strong mind, that she believed friendship

practicable between men and women, young or old. She knew the world

pretty well, and was not amazed by extraordinary accidents; but as she

herself continued to be an example of her faith: we must presume it

natural that her delusion should cling to her. She welcomed Evan as her

daughter's friend, walked half-way across the room to meet him on his

introduction to her, and with the simple words, 'I have heard of you,'

let him see that he stood upon his merits in her house. The young man's

spirit caught something of hers even in their first interview, and at

once mounted to that level. Unconsciously he felt that she took, and

would take him, for what he was, and he rose to his worth in the society

she presided over. A youth like Evan could not perceive, that in loving

this lady's daughter, and accepting the place she offered him, he was

guilty of a breach of confidence; or reflect, that her entire absence of

suspicion imposed upon him a corresponding honesty toward her. He fell

into a blindness. Without dreaming for a moment that she designed to

encourage his passion for Rose, he yet beheld himself in the light she

had cast on him; and, received as her daughter's friend, it seemed to him

not so utterly monstrous that he might be her daughter's lover. A

haughty, a grand, or a too familiar manner, would have kept his eyes

clearer on his true condition. Lady Jocelyn spoke to his secret nature,

and eclipsed in his mind the outward aspects with which it was warring.

To her he was a gallant young man, a fit companion for Rose, and when she

and Sir Franks said, and showed him, that they were glad to know him, his

heart swam in a flood of happiness they little suspected.

This was another of the many forms of intoxication to which circumstances

subjected the poor lover. In Fallow field, among impertinent young men,

Evan's pride proclaimed him a tailor. At Beckley Court, acted on by one

genuine soul, he forgot it, and felt elate in his manhood. The shades of

Tailordom dispersed like fog before the full South-west breeze. When I

say he forgot it, the fact was present enough to him, but it became an

outward fact: he had ceased to feel it within him. It was not a portion

of his being, hard as Mrs. Mel had struck to fix it. Consequently, though

he was in a far worse plight than when he parted with Rose on board the

Jocasta, he felt much less of an impostor now. This may have been partly

because he had endured his struggle with the Demogorgon the Countess

painted to him in such frightful colours, and found him human after all;

but it was mainly owing to the hearty welcome Lady Jocelyn had extended

to him as the friend of Rose.

Loving Rose, he nevertheless allowed his love no tender liberties. The

eyes of a lover are not his own; but his hands and lips are, till such

time as they are claimed. The sun must smile on us with peculiar warmth

to woo us forth utterly-pluck our hearts out. Rose smiled on many. She

smiled on Drummond Forth, Ferdinand Laxley, William Harvey, and her

brother Harry; and she had the same eyes for all ages. Once, previous to

the arrival of the latter three, there was a change in her look, or Evan

fancied it. They were going to ride out together, and Evan, coming to his

horse on the gravel walk, saw her talking with Drummond Forth. He

mounted, awaiting her, and either from a slight twinge of jealousy, or to

mark her dainty tread with her riding-habit drawn above her heels, he

could not help turning his head occasionally. She listened to Drummond

with attention, but presently broke from him, crying: 'It's an absurdity.

Speak to them yourself--I shall not.'

On the ride that day, she began prattling of this and that with the

careless glee that became her well, and then sank into a reverie.

Between-whiles her eyes had raised tumults in Evan's breast by dropping

on him in a sort of questioning way, as if she wished him to speak, or

wished to fathom something she would rather have unspoken. Ere they had

finished their ride, she tossed off what burden may have been on her mind

as lightly as a stray lock from her shoulders. He thought that the

singular look recurred. It charmed him too much for him to speculate on

it.

The Countess's opportune ally, the gout, which had reduced the Hon.

Melville Jocelyn's right hand to a state of uselessness, served her with

her brother equally: for, having volunteered his services to the

invalided diplomatist, it excused his stay at Beckley Court to himself,

and was a mask to his intimacy with Rose, besides earning him the thanks

of the family. Harry Jocelyn, released from the wing of the Countess,

came straight to him, and in a rough kind of way begged Evan to overlook

his rudeness.

'You took us all in at Fallow field, except Drummond,' he said. 'Drummond

would have it you were joking. I see it now. And you're a confoundedly

clever fellow into the bargain, or you wouldn't be quill-driving for

Uncle Mel. Don't be uppish about it--will you?'

'You have nothing to fear on that point,' said Evan. With which promise

the peace was signed between them. Drummond and William Harvey were

cordial, and just laughed over the incident. Laxley, however, held aloof.

His retention of ideas once formed befitted his rank and station. Some

trifling qualms attended Evan's labours with the diplomatist; but these

were merely occasioned by the iteration of a particular phrase. Mr.

Goren, an enthusiastic tailor, had now and then thrown out to Evan

stirring hints of an invention he claimed: the discovery of a Balance in

Breeches: apparently the philosopher's stone of the tailor craft, a

secret that should ensure harmony of outline to the person and an

indubitable accommodation to the most difficult legs.

Since Adam's expulsion, it seemed, the tailors of this wilderness had

been in search of it. But like the doctors of this wilderness, their

science knew no specific: like the Babylonian workmen smitten with

confusion of tongues, they had but one word in common, and that word was

'cut.' Mr. Goren contended that to cut was not the key of the science:

but to find a Balance was. An artistic admirer of the frame of man, Mr.

Goren was not wanting in veneration for the individual who had arisen to

do it justice. He spoke of his Balance with supreme self-appreciation.

Nor less so the Honourable Melville, who professed to have discovered the

Balance of Power, at home and abroad. It was a capital Balance, but

inferior to Mr. Goren's. The latter gentleman guaranteed a Balance with

motion: whereas one step not only upset the Honourable Melville's, but

shattered the limbs of Europe. Let us admit, that it is easier to fit a

man's legs than to compress expansive empires.

Evan enjoyed the doctoring of kingdoms quite as well as the diplomatist.

It suited the latent grandeur of soul inherited by him from the great

Mel. He liked to prop Austria and arrest the Czar, and keep a watchful

eye on France; but the Honourable Melville's deep-mouthed phrase conjured

up to him a pair of colossal legs imperiously demanding their Balance

likewise. At first the image scared him. In time he was enabled to smile

it into phantom vagueness. The diplomatist diplomatically informed him,

it might happen that the labours he had undertaken might be neither more

nor less than education for a profession he might have to follow. Out of

this, an ardent imagination, with the Countess de Saldar for an

interpreter, might construe a promise of some sort. Evan soon had high

hopes. What though his name blazed on a shop-front? The sun might yet

illumine him to honour!

Where a young man is getting into delicate relations with a young woman,

the more of his sex the better--they serve as a blind; and the Countess

hailed fresh arrivals warmly. There was Sir John Loring, Dorothy's

father, who had married the eldest of the daughters of Lord Elburne. A

widower, handsome, and a flirt, he capitulated to the Countess instantly,

and was played off against the provincial Don Juan, who had reached that

point with her when youths of his description make bashful confidences of

their successes, and receive delicious chidings for their

naughtiness--rebukes which give immeasurable rebounds. Then came Mr.

Gordon Graine, with his daughter, Miss Jenny Graine, an early friend of

Rose's, and numerous others. For the present, Miss Isabella Current need

only be chronicled among the visitors--a sprightly maid fifty years old,

without a wrinkle to show for it--the Aunt Bel of fifty houses where

there were young women and little boys. Aunt Bel had quick wit and

capital anecdotes, and tripped them out aptly on a sparkling tongue with

exquisite instinct for climax and when to strike for a laugh. No sooner

had she entered the hall than she announced the proximate arrival of the

Duke of Belfield at her heels, and it was known that his Grace was as

sure to follow as her little dog, who was far better paid for his

devotion.

The dinners at Beckley Court had hitherto been rather languid to those

who were not intriguing or mixing young love with the repast. Miss

Current was an admirable neutral, sent, as the Countess fervently

believed, by Providence. Till now the Countess had drawn upon her own

resources to amuse the company, and she had been obliged to restrain

herself from doing it with that unctuous feeling for rank which warmed

her Portuguese sketches in low society and among her sisters. She retired

before Miss Current and formed audience, glad of a relief to her

inventive labour. While Miss Current and her ephemerals lightly skimmed

the surface of human life, the Countess worked in the depths. Vanities,

passions, prejudices beneath the surface, gave her full employment. How

naturally poor Juliana Bonner was moved to mistake Evan's compassion for

a stronger sentiment! The Countess eagerly assisted Providence to shuffle

the company into their proper places. Harry Jocelyn was moodily happy,

but good; greatly improved in the eyes of his grandmama Bonner, who

attributed the change to the Countess, and partly forgave her the sinful

consent to the conditions of her love-match with the foreign Count, which

his penitent wife had privately confessed to that strict Churchwoman.

'Thank Heaven that you have no children,' Mrs. Bonner had said; and the

Countess humbly replied:

'It is indeed my remorseful consolation!'

'Who knows that it is not your punishment?' added Mrs. Bonner; the

Countess weeping.

She went and attended morning prayers in Mrs. Bonner's apartments, alone

with the old lady. 'To make up for lost time in Catholic Portugal!' she

explained it to the household.

On the morning after Miss Current had come to shape the party, most of

the inmates of Beckley Court being at breakfast, Rose gave a lead to the

conversation.

'Aunt Bel! I want to ask you something. We've been making bets about you.

Now, answer honestly, we're all friends. Why did you refuse all your

offers?'

'Quite simple, child,' replied the unabashed ex-beauty.

'A matter of taste. I liked twenty shillings better than a sovereign.'

Rose looked puzzled, but the men laughed, and Rose exclaimed:

'Now I see! How stupid I am! You mean, you may have friends when you are

not married. Well, I think that's the wisest, after all. You don't lose

them, do you? Pray, Mr. Evan, are you thinking Aunt Bel might still alter

her mind for somebody, if she knew his value?'

'I was presuming to hope there might be a place vacant among the twenty,'

said Evan, slightly bowing to both. 'Am I pardoned?'

'I like you!' returned Aunt Bel, nodding at him. 'Where do you come from?

A young man who'll let himself go for small coin's a jewel worth

knowing.'

'Where do I come from?' drawled Laxley, who had been tapping an egg with

a dreary expression.

'Aunt Bel spoke to Mr. Harrington,' said Rose, pettishly.

'Asked him where he came from,' Laxley continued his drawl. 'He didn't

answer, so I thought it polite for another of the twenty to strike in.'

'I must thank you expressly,' said Evan, and achieved a cordial bow.

Rose gave Evan one of her bright looks, and then called the attention of

Ferdinand Laxley to the fact that he had lost a particular bet made among

them.

'What bet?' asked Laxley. 'About the profession?'

A stream of colour shot over Rose's face. Her eyes flew nervously from

Laxley to Evan, and then to Drummond. Laxley appeared pleased as a man

who has made a witty sally: Evan was outwardly calm, while Drummond

replied to the mute appeal of Rose, by saying:

'Yes; we've all lost. But who could hit it? The lady admits no sovereign

in our sex.'

'So you've been betting about me?' said Aunt Bel. 'I 'll settle the

dispute. Let him who guessed "Latin" pocket the stakes, and, if I guess

him, let him hand them over to me.'

'Excellent!' cried Rose. 'One did guess "Latin," Aunt Bel! Now, tell us

which one it was.'

'Not you, my dear. You guessed "temper."'

'No! you dreadful Aunt Bel!'

'Let me see,' said Aunt Bel, seriously. 'A young man would not marry a

woman with Latin, but would not guess it the impediment. Gentlemen

moderately aged are mad enough to slip their heads under any yoke, but

see the obstruction. It was a man of forty guessed "Latin." I request the

Hon. Hamilton Everard Jocelyn to confirm it.'

Amid laughter and exclamations Hamilton confessed himself the man who had

guessed Latin to be the cause of Miss Current's remaining an old maid;

Rose, crying:

'You really are too clever, Aunt Bel!'

A divergence to other themes ensued, and then Miss Jenny Graine said:

'Isn't Juley learning Latin? I should like to join her while I'm here.'

'And so should I,' responded Rose. 'My friend Evan is teaching her during

the intervals of his arduous diplomatic labours. Will you take us into

your class, Evan?'

'Don't be silly, girls,' interposed Aunt Bel. 'Do you want to graduate

for my state with your eyes open?'

Evan objected his poor qualifications as a tutor, and Aunt Bel remarked,

that if Juley learnt Latin at all, she should have regular instruction.

'I am quite satisfied,' said Juley, quietly.

'Of course you are,' Rose snubbed her cousin. 'So would anybody be. But

Mama really was talking of a tutor for Juley, if she could find one.

There's a school at Bodley; but that's too far for one of the men to come

over.'

A school at Bodley! thought Evan, and his probationary years at the

Cudford Establishment rose before him; and therewith, for the first time

since his residence at Beckley, the figure of John Raikes.

'There's a friend of mine,' he said, aloud, 'I think if Lady Jocelyn does

wish Miss Bonner to learn Latin thoroughly, he would do very well for the

groundwork and would be glad of the employment. He is very poor'

'If he's poor, and a friend of yours, Evan, we'll have him,' said Rose:

'we'll ride and fetch him.'

'Yes,' added Miss Carrington, 'that must be quite sufficient

qualification.'

Juliana was not gazing gratefully at Evan for his proposal.

Rose asked the name of Evan's friend. 'His name is Raikes,' answered

Evan. 'I don't know where he is now. He may be at Fallow field. If Lady

Jocelyn pleases, I will ride over to-day and see.'

'My dear Evan!' cried Rose, 'you don't mean that absurd figure we saw on

the cricket-field?' She burst out laughing. 'Oh! what fun it will be! Let

us have him here by all means.'

'I shall not bring him to be laughed at,' said Evan.

'I will remember he is your friend,' Rose returned demurely; and again

laughed, as she related to Jenny Graine the comic appearance Mr. Raikes

had presented.

Laxley waited for a pause, and then said: 'I have met this Mr. Raikes. As

a friend of the family, I should protest against his admission here in

any office whatever into the upper part of the house, at least. He is not

a gentleman.'

We don't want teachers to be gentlemen,' observed Rose.

'This fellow is the reverse,' Laxley pronounced, and desired Harry to

confirm it; but Harry took a gulp of coffee.

'Oblige me by recollecting that I have called him a friend of mine,' said

Evan.

Rose murmured to him: 'Pray forgive me! I forgot.' Laxley hummed

something about 'taste.' Aunt Bel led from the theme by a lively

anecdote.

After breakfast the party broke into knots, and canvassed Laxley's

behaviour to Evan, which was generally condemned. Rose met the young men

strolling on the lawn; and, with her usual bluntness, accused Laxley of

wishing to insult her friend.

'I speak to him--do I not?' said Laxley. 'What would you have more? I

admit the obligation of speaking to him when I meet him in your house.

Out of it--that 's another matter.'

'But what is the cause for your conduct to him, Ferdinand?'

'By Jove!' cried Harry, 'I wonder he puts up with it I wouldn't. I'd

have a shot with you, my boy.'

'Extremely honoured,' said Laxley. 'But neither you nor I care to fight

tailors.'

'Tailors!' exclaimed Rose. There was a sharp twitch in her body, as if

she had been stung or struck.

'Look here, Rose,' said Laxley; 'I meet him, he insults me, and to get

out of the consequences tells me he's the son of a tailor, and a tailor

himself; knowing that it ties my hands. Very well, he puts himself hors

de combat to save his bones. Let him unsay it, and choose whether he 'll

apologize or not, and I'll treat him accordingly. At present I'm not

bound to do more than respect the house I find he has somehow got

admission to.'

'It's clear it was that other fellow,' said Harry, casting a side-glance

up at the Countess's window.

Rose looked straight at Laxley, and abruptly turned on her heel.

In the afternoon, Lady Jocelyn sent a message to Evan that she wished to

see him. Rose was with her mother. Lady Jocelyn had only to say, that if

he thought his friend a suitable tutor for Miss Bonner, they would be

happy to give him the office at Beckley Court. Glad to befriend poor

Jack, Evan gave the needful assurances, and was requested to go and fetch

him forthwith. When he left the room, Rose marched out silently beside

him.

'Will you ride over with me, Rose?' he said, though scarcely anxious that

she should see Mr. Raikes immediately.

The singular sharpness of her refusal astonished him none the less.

'Thank you, no; I would rather not.'

A lover is ever ready to suspect that water has been thrown on the fire

that burns for him in the bosom of his darling. Sudden as the change was,

it was very decided. His sensitive ears were pained by the absence of his

Christian name, which her lips had lavishly made sweet to him. He stopped

in his walk.

'You spoke of riding to Fallow field. Is it possible you don't want me to

bring my friend here? There's time to prevent it.'

Judged by the Countess de Saldar, the behaviour of this well-born English

maid was anything but well-bred. She absolutely shrugged her shoulders

and marched a-head of him into the conservatory, where she began smelling

at flowers and plucking off sere leaves.

In such cases a young man always follows; as her womanly instinct must

have told her, for she expressed no surprise when she heard his voice two

minutes after.

'Rose! what have I done?'

'Nothing at all,' she said, sweeping her eyes over his a moment, and

resting them on the plants.

'I must have uttered something that has displeased you.'

'No.'

Brief negatives are not re-assuring to a lover's uneasy mind.

'I beg you--Be frank with me, Rose!'

A flame of the vanished fire shone in her face, but subsided, and she

shook her head darkly.

'Have you any objection to my friend?'

Her fingers grew petulant with an orange leaf. Eyeing a spot on it, she

said, hesitatingly:

'Any friend of yours I am sure I should like to help. But--but I wish you

wouldn't associate with that--that kind of friend. It gives people all

sorts of suspicions.'

Evan drew a sharp breath.

The voices of Master Alec and Miss Dorothy were heard shouting on the

lawn. Alec gave Dorothy the slip and approached the conservatory on

tip-toe, holding his hand out behind him to enjoin silence and secrecy.

The pair could witness the scene through the glass before Evan spoke.

'What suspicions?' he asked.

Rose looked up, as if the harshness of his tone pleased her.

'Do you like red roses best, or white?' was her answer, moving to a

couple of trees in pots.

'Can't make up your mind?' she continued, and plucked both a white and

red rose, saying: 'There! choose your colour by-and-by,' and ask Juley to

sew the one you choose in your button-hole.'

She laid the roses in his hand, and walked away. She must have known that

there was a burden of speech on his tongue. She saw him move to follow

her, but this time she did not linger, and it may be inferred that she

wished to hear no more.