"Don"t say humiliation, Dreda," cried Susan tremulously. "Don"t, dear; I can"t bear it. It was dreadful for you; but there was no humiliation.
There was nothing--nothing of which you could be ashamed. Your essay was very good, too; it has been mentioned as one of the best."
But Dreda was not in the mood to accept comfort. She was miserable, and she intended to be miserable in a thorough, systematic fashion, so that for the moment alleviations seemed rather to irritate than to cheer--
"My essay was only one of the best four. That"s nothing. Except our three selves and Barbara Morton, there"s not another girl in the school who can write a decent essay to save her life. The others were all as dull and stupid as could be. You have seen them, and know that that"s true. If mine was only the fourth best, that"s no praise at all. Mr Rawdon made no special mention of any but yours, except when he--_Oh- h_!" Dreda"s voice shrilled with sudden panic; she dropped her cake on to her plate and clasped her hands together, staring before her with wide, startled eyes. "Oh-h! Do you remember? He said that he had been _amused_ by one of the four essays. His lips twitched, and he tried not to laugh. Amused at the `high-flown eloquence." That was the expression--wasn"t it? High-flown eloquence! That means rubbish, of course--bombastic, stupid, exaggerated rubbish! Girls, _that was mine_!
I feel it--I know it! Susan, you know it, too. You wouldn"t say that it was good, even when I asked you straight out. You were too honest to say `Yes." Oh! I am not angry. You needn"t look so miserable. It was true, and down at the very, very bottom of my heart I knew it myself.
When I thought I had won the prize I was only really happy for a few minutes; after that I grew frightened, for I knew it was a mistake, and that I was not really a genius at all, only a rather sharp-witted girl, a ready girl,"--she gave a dreary little laugh--"who could pick up other people"s ideas, and string them together as if they were her own. The girls weren"t clever enough to know the real from the sham, but Mr Rawdon knew it at once. He saw how--how--" (she paused, groping in her extensive vocabulary for a word to express her meaning) "how _meretricious_ it was! He was--_amused_!"
The last word came with an involuntary quiver of pain, and there was silence round the impromptu tea-table. Dreda saw without surprise that the tears were rolling down Susan"s cheeks--it seemed natural that Susan should cry. What did give her a real shock of surprise was to hear a sound of subdued snuffling on her right, and on turning her head to behold the imperturbable Nancy suspiciously red about the eyes and nose.
"Nancy!" she cried involuntarily. "You are crying! I never believed that it was possible that you _could_ cry! Why are you crying, Nancy?
Is it about--_me_?"
But Nancy only jerked the tea-tray, tossing her head the while in her most nonchalant fashion.
"Can"t I cry if I like? Can"t I cry for myself? If I don"t, no one else will. No one thinks about Me! _I_ tried for the prize as well as you, and I"ve far more right to be disappointed. No one ever said I might be great!"
She tossed her head and frowned and pouted, but Dreda was not deceived by the pretence. At her heart lay a warm feeling of comfort and grat.i.tude. In recalling the incidents of this tragic day, it would always bring a throb of consolation to remember that Nancy, the imperturbable, had shed tears on her behalf!
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.
Home again, and home with quite a festival air about _it_ in honour of your return. Flowers in every corner, silver candelabra on the dining- table, favourite dishes for every course, a fire in one"s bedroom, chocolates lying ready at every turn--it was all most grateful and soothing! Dreda sunned herself in the atmosphere of tenderness and approval, and though no one referred in words to her disappointment, she knew that it was an underlying thought in every mind, and her sore heart was soothed afresh by each new instance of kindliness and care. The first evening was spent according to good old-fashioned custom, sitting round the schoolroom fire, brothers and sisters together, talking over the events of the term, and comparing exploits and adventures. In the dim firelight Dreda edged close to Gurth"s side and slipped her hand through his arm; and, wonder of wonders! instead of pushing her away, Gurth gave it a quick little grip, and leant his broad shoulder against hers in response. The boys were on their best behaviour, amiable and conciliatory, without a hint of the overbearing condescension which was apt to mark the end of the holidays. If there was a blot on the general harmony it was to be found in the air of detachment with which Rowena took part in the conversation. She was perfectly amiable, perfectly sweet, conscientiously interested in the different exploits, yet one and all felt disagreeably conscious that she was no longer one of their number, and that her thoughts were continually straying off on excursions of their own. Dreda remembered the parting promise of "Lots to tell!" and looked forward to hair-brushing confidences later on, but none were forthcoming. Rowena remained loving, preoccupied, and inscrutable.
Alone with Maud, Dreda discussed the change in her sister"s manner; but Maud"s explanation, though verbose, was hardly enlightening.
"She"s nineteen. She"ll be twenty on the twenty-first of October next.
She"s got a train to her last new dress. And then there"s teaching me... She orders me about as if she were a hundred, but lately she"s grown moony. If I keep quite still and ask no questions she begins staring, and stares and stares and smiles to herself. So silly! But it pa.s.ses the time. When the clock strikes she gives such a jump! I"m not getting on a bit; but I"m glad, because then I shall go to school. She takes no interest in me. I did the same exercises four times over and she never knew, and when I told mother she said, `Poor darling!" I thought she meant me, but she meant Rowena. Well, if you grow up, you grow up, but you needn"t be silly!"
Three afternoons after Dreda"s return home a sharp rat-tat sounded at the door, and Maud, flattening her nose against the window, made one of her characteristic announcements.
"Mr Seton"s horse. He"s got on his new breeches!"
Dreda gave a glad exclamation.
"Mr Seton! Already! The dear thing! How did he know I was home?"
There was a short, tense pause, while Mrs Saxon and Rowena kept their eyes glued to the ground. A sensitive hearer would have felt that pause significant, but Dreda was too self-engrossed to be sensitive; she never doubted that Guy Seton"s object in calling was to welcome herself on her return from school, and her first words informed him of the fact.
"Oh, Mr Seton, it _is_ nice of you to come so soon! Have you got the horse yet? It"s lovely of you to remember your promise."
"My--my--_what_ horse? What promise?"
"The horse for me--my mount! You said you would take me out riding--"
"Oh--er--yes! Did I? Delighted, I"m sure!" stammered Guy Seton awkwardly. He looked bigger and stronger and handsomer than ever, but even Dreda could not delude herself that he looked "delighted" at that moment. There had been an expression of blankest surprise upon his face as she had stepped forward to greet him, as if he had been unprepared for her presence, and he had flushed uncomfortably at being reminded of his promise. Dreda stood looking on somewhat blankly while he greeted the other occupants of the room--Mrs Saxon with punctilious politeness, Maud with a smile and a jest, Rowena in silence with a short grip of the hand. Why did he not speak to Rowena? Were they still at cross purposes as on the occasion of their first meeting? Dreda watched with curious eyes and felt confirmed in her suspicion, for Rowena st.i.tched steadily at her embroidery, and Guy Seton never turned as much as a glance in her direction. It was true that on one occasion when she required her scissors he had pounced upon them as they lay on the table, and handed them to her before she had had time to reach them herself; but instead of forming the beginning of a conversation, as such an action should naturally have done, they both appeared overcome with embarra.s.sment, and ignored each other"s presence more persistently than before.
A quarter of an hour pa.s.sed in a desultory and broken conversation, in which each member of the party seemed to continue his or her own train of thought, with little or no attention to the preceding remarks. As, for example:
Guy Seton: "It"s such a ripping day. I thought I could ride over and see how you all were."
Maud: "Mr Morris dropped his spectacles in the stable when he was feeding his new mare. He heard something grind, so he thought she had eaten them by mistake. He sent off for a vet., and he gave her things and charged a guinea, and all the while they were on the dressing-table in his room."
Dreda: "I"m always losing things! There"s been a perfect fate against me at school this term. It"s not my fault, for I have grown hideously careful, and they all turn up again in time, but it"s most wearing for your nerves!"
Mrs Saxon: "I met your mother in the village on Thursday, Mr Seton. I was glad to see her looking so well."
Guy Seton: "This brisk weather braces people up. There"s a meet at Newstead Market Square on Monday at eleven. Ought to be a good run."
Maud: "Mr Morris"s mare cost eighty pounds. Their coachman told our gardener. He said he thought she was gone for sure when the eyegla.s.ses were missing. They"ve got a gold rim."
Dreda: "People always lose gla.s.ses. Flora Mason wears them at school.
She draws most beautifully. She had caricatures of all the mistresses inside an atlas. She put them on the back of Balkan States because no one ever looks at them; but there was an earthquake or something, and The Duck turned them up. As a punishment, she made Flora stand up before all the cla.s.s and draw a copy of her portrait on the board.
Flora kept trying to make it pretty, and she said:--
"`Look at your copy, please, Flora; the nose goes to a point, and is _inches_ larger!" Flora was _purple_ with embarra.s.sment, and so were we all."
Guy Seton: "I was wondering if you would care to follow with us on Monday, Miss Saxon? We"d take good care of you. My cousin is a very careful rider, and you need not be at all nervous of being led into awkward places. We could turn back as soon as you were tired."
Dreda"s gasp of dismay sounded clearly through the room, but Guy Seton was apparently deaf to the sound. Rowena had raised her head from her embroidery, revealing a face of almost startling beauty--cheeks as pink as a wild rose, eyes deeply, darkly blue, lips curving into the sweetest and shyest of smiles.
"Thank you so much. I should love to go. I should not be at all afraid."
"That"s settled, then!" cried Mr Seton, and breathed a sigh of relief.
The air of restraint which he had worn since entering the room gave place to his usual genial, happy manner. He turned to Dreda, questioned her about her work and games, joked and teased, recalled his own experiences, was everything that was kind and friendly, but never a word did he say about the promised "mount"--not a hint that she also might like to attend the meet! Verily it was a world of grief and disappointment.
Gurth opined that it was a "beastly f.a.g" having no horses, but saw no reason why the younger members of the party should not follow on bicycles. Dreda protested haughtily that if she could not go properly she would not go at all; but when the day of the meet arrived and she saw the little party complacently preparing to start, pride gave way before the thought of a long, dull day alone; she rushed to get ready, and pedalled down the drive looking her old complacent self.
Rowena led the cavalcade on Mr Seton"s brown hunter, with her fair locks coiled tightly at the back and her hat pressed down on her forehead. She was not quite so pretty, perhaps, as in ordinary attire, but she looked delightfully trim and business-like, and her young brothers and sisters were proud of her and made favourable comparisons between her and the other lady riders a.s.sembled in the square. It was a picturesque sight to see the motley collection of vehicles drawn up by the kerbstones, the riders pacing to and fro, greeting fresh arrivals, who kept trotting in from every direction, the pink coats of the men making welcome touches of colour, and finally the appearance of the hounds themselves, preceded by the huntsmen in their velvet caps and smart white breeches.
A long table was laid out in front of the village inn, on which were set refreshments for those who had driven from a distance. The Saxon quartette strolled up and down, wheeling their bicycles as they went, exchanging greetings with acquaintances, and quizzing the peculiarities of strangers, after the merciless fashion of youth. It was just as they reached the farthest corner of the square, and were about to turn back, that Dreda"s glance came into contact with a pair of eyes fixed upon her with a coldly antagonistic gaze with which she was painfully familiar.
Norah! By all that was inexplicable, Norah West herself, standing calmly in the midst of Newstead Market Square, more than a hundred miles distant from her home, to which she had travelled a short week before!
Dreda gazed back in stupefied amazement, and even as she looked a second figure detached itself from the crowd and advanced towards her.
"Dreda! I didn"t expect to meet you here. I was going to write!"
"Susan! What is Norah doing with you? Don"t tell me you have asked her to _stay_!"
"I didn"t--but she _is_ here, all the same. Her brother came home ill from school, and the others had all to be sent off at once in case it was something infectious. She telegraphed to know if she might come to us."
"Like her cheek!"
"Oh, Dreda, it was horrid for her, too. Just think if you missed your holidays at home! And she had often invited me there."
"Oh, of course, she adores you, so you enjoy having her company. Don"t let me interfere! It"s delightful that you are so well entertained. I congratulate you, I"m sure."