Captain Grant"s unfortunate invitation entirely marred the harmony of the evening. Directly the guests had left, the family sat down to a cold collation, instead of a regular dinner. Richard had only just come in and taken his place, declaring that he was as hungry as a hunter, when Edna informed him of their plans for Thursday.
"Mamma has to go up to town, so she cannot possibly go with us, and the carriage will have to fetch her from the station, so you must drive us over to Staplehurst in your dog-cart, Ritchie. I dare say Bessie will think that fun."
Richard glanced uneasily at his stepmother before he answered, as though he wished for her opinion, and she gave him a significant look.
"I am very sorry, Edna, but I am afraid it is impossible. I have to go over to Fordham on business, and I cannot possibly be back until six."
"On some stupid farming business, I suppose," returned Edna, and it was evident her temper could ill brook the contradiction. Her color rose, and there was an ominous sparkle in her eye; but Richard answered composedly:
"Yes; I have to meet Medway and Stephenson. I am sorry to disappoint you and Miss Lambert but Thursday is never a free day with me."
"No, indeed, nor any other day of the week when I want you to do anything," returned Edna, with rising excitement. "Now don"t make any more excuses, Richard. Do you think I am a child to believe in your Medways and Stephensons? I saw you look at mamma before you answered, and you think she does not wish me to go."
"My darling, why need you excite yourself so?" exclaimed Mrs. Sefton.
"It is you that excite me, mamma, you and Richard. You have got some foolish notion in your heads about Captain Grant, just because the poor man is civil to me. You treat me, both of you, as though I were a baby--as though I could not be trusted to take care of myself. It is very unjust," continued Edna, "and I will not bear it from Richard."
"I confess I don"t see the gist of your remarks," returned her brother, who was now growing angry in his turn; "and I don"t think all this can be very amusing to Miss Lambert. If my mother has an objection to your keeping up an acquaintance with Captain Grant, it is your duty to give the thing up. In my opinion she is right; he is not the sort of friend for you, Edna, and his mother is disliked by all the officers" wives. I should think Sinclair would have a right to object to your frequent visits to Staplehurst."
But Edna was in no mood to listen to reason.
"Neville knows better than to state his objections to me," she returned haughtily; "and it is quite unnecessary to drag his name into the present conversation. I will only trouble you to answer me one question: Do you absolutely refuse to do me this favor, to drive Miss Lambert and me over to Staplehurst on Thursday?"
"I must refuse," returned Richard firmly. "It is quite true that my engagement can be put off, but it is so evident that my mother objects to the whole thing, that I will not be a party to your disobeying her wishes."
Edna rose from the table and made him a profound courtesy. "Thank you for your moral lecture, Richard; but it is quite thrown away. I am not going to be controlled like a child. If you will not take us, Bessie and I will go alone. I quite mean it, mamma." And Edna marched angrily out of the room.
"Oh, dear," observed Mrs. Sefton fretfully; "I have not seen her so put out for months; it must have been your manner, Richard. You were so hard on the poor child. Now she will go and make herself ill with crying."
"Did I misunderstand you?" asked Richard, astonished at this. "Did you wish me to take them, after all?"
"Of course not; what an absurd question! I would not have Edna go for worlds. Neville only said the other day how much he disliked the Grants, and how he hoped Edna kept them at a distance. I think he has heard something to Captain Grant"s disadvantage; but you know how wilful she is; you might have carried your point with a little tact and _finesse_, but you are always so clumsy with Edna."
"You did not help me much," returned Richard rather bitterly. "You left me to bear the brunt of Edna"s temper, as usual. Why did you not tell her yourself your reasons for disliking her to go? But, no; I am to be the scapegoat, as usual, and Edna will not speak to me for a week." And so saying he pushed his chair away and walked to the window.
Mrs. Sefton did not answer her stepson. Most likely her conscience told her that his reproach was a just one. She only glanced at Bessie"s grieved face and downcast eyes, and proposed to retire.
The drawing-room was empty when they entered it, and as Bessie noticed Mrs. Sefton"s wistful look round the room, she said timidly:
"May I go and talk to Edna?"
"No, my dear; far better not," was the reply. "Edna has a hot temper; she takes after her poor father in that. We must give her time to cool.
I will go to her myself presently. She was very wrong to answer Richard in that way, but he has so little tact."
Bessie did not trust herself to reply. She took her book to the window, that her hostess might not find it inc.u.mbent on her to talk, and in a short time Mrs. Sefton left the room. Richard entered it a moment later.
"Are you alone?" he asked, in some surprise. "I suppose my mother has gone up to Edna?"
"Yes; she is uneasy about her. Shall I play to you a little, Mr. Sefton?
It is getting too dark to read." Bessie made this overture as a sort of amends to Richard, and the friendly little act seemed to soothe him.
"You are very kind. I should like it of all things," he returned gratefully. So Bessie sat down and played her simple tunes and sung her little songs until the young man"s perturbed spirits were calmed and quieted by the pure tones of the girlish voice; and presently when she paused for a minute, he said:
"It is awfully good of you to take all this trouble for me."
"Oh, no, it is not," replied Bessie, smiling. "I like singing; besides, you are feeling dull this evening; your talk with your sister has upset you."
"No one ever noticed before if I were dull or not," he replied, with a sigh; "but I am afraid that sounds ungracious. I think we owe you an apology, Miss Lambert, for airing our family disagreements in your presence. I am more sorry than I can say that you should have been subjected to this unpleasantness."
"Oh, never mind me," returned Bessie cheerfully. "I am only sorry for all of you. I dare say Edna did not mean half she said; people say all sorts of things when they are angry. I am afraid she is bitterly disappointed. I have heard her say before how fond she is of watching polo; but I dare say she will soon forget all about it."
"I cannot flatter myself with that belief. Edna does not so easily forget when her whims are crossed. I dare say she will send me to Coventry all the week; but I can"t help that. Nothing would induce me to drive her over to Staplehurst, and she will hardly carry out her threat of going without me."
"Of course not," and Bessie fairly laughed.
"No, it was an idle threat; but all the same it is very vexatious." But Bessie would not let him dwell on the grievance. She began telling him about Tom, and a funny sc.r.a.pe he had got into last term; and this led to a conversation about her home, and here Bessie grew eloquent; and she was in the midst of a description of Cliffe and its environs when Mrs.
Sefton reappeared, looking f.a.gged and weary, and informed them that Edna had a headache and had retired to bed.
CHAPTER XII.
THE FIRST SUNDAY AT THE GRANGE.
The unfortunate dispute between Edna and her brother had taken place on Sat.u.r.day evening, and as Bessie went up to her room that night she made up her mind that the first Sunday at Oatlands would be a failure, as far as enjoyment was concerned.
"I never can be happy myself unless I see others happy round me,"
thought Bessie, rather mournfully; "and Edna has taken this disappointment so badly that I am afraid she will make us all suffer for it." But in this opinion she was wrong. Her acquaintance with Edna had been brief, and she had no suspicion of the intense pride that blended with Edna"s wilfulness, nor of the tenacity, strange in such a bright young creature, that could quietly maintain its purpose under a careless, light-hearted exterior.
Edna had evidently been ashamed of her outburst of temper on the previous evening, for she came down on Sunday morning looking a little pale and subdued, and very gentle in her manner to her mother and Bessie. She seemed to ignore Richard; beyond a cold good morning she did not vouchsafe him a word or a look; and as all his overtures toward reconciliation were pa.s.sed over in chilling silence, he soon left her to herself.
They all went to church together, and as they walked through the lanes Edna seemed to recover her buoyancy. She laughed and chatted with her mother, and made sprightly speeches in her usual way; and no one could have judged from her manner that there was a spot of bitterness under the smooth surface--an angry consciousness that Richard had dared to cross her will.
Ah, well! there are many beside Edna who enter G.o.d"s house with their darling sin hugged close to their bosom, fondled and cherished. Truly we may say we are miserable sinners, and that there is no health in us, for the black plague spot is often hidden under the white vesture, undetected by human insight, but clearly legible to the "Eye that seeth not as man seeth."
Once Bessie looked up from her hymn-book as Edna"s clear, high notes reached her ear. Edna seemed singing with all her heart:
"Oh, Paradise! Oh, Paradise!
Who does not crave for rest?"
Her brown eyes were soft with feeling, there was a sweet, almost angelic look upon her face; a pa.s.sing emotion possessed her. Alas, that such moods should be transitory! And yet it has ever been so in the world"s history. Unsanctified human nature is always fickle, and the "Hosanna" of yesterday become the "Crucify Him" of to-day.
After their early luncheon, Edna asked Bessie if she would go with her to see the Athertons.
"Mamma indulges in a nap on Sunday afternoons," she explained, "and as I am not fond of my own company, I run in and have a chat with the girls."