"He is a good man; I like him," was the mental comment. Aloud she said dreamily, "Gordon is my hero. I love to hear about him. He was too generous to others to heap up money for himself. I suppose he didn"t care about it. I wish I didn"t, but I do. It"s so very distressing to be always short of money. All the good people in books are poor, but for myself I think it"s bad for the temper. They talk about the peril of riches, but I should like to try it for myself, wouldn"t you, Mr Hilliard?"
Hilliard smiled--a quiet, amused smile.
"Well, I don"t know. Everything is comparative. If some people would think us poor, others would most certainly consider us very rich indeed.
We have all that we need, and for myself I"m quite content. I manage to have a very good time."
"And you get away for holidays like this. That must make it easier.
Have you to work very hard? What is your work? In what way do you make your living?"
Once more Hilliard smiled in amus.e.m.e.nt, and in truth there was a directness about Esmeralda"s questionings which was as unusual as it was unconscious. He put up his hand and stroked one end of his curly moustache.
"Glue!"
"Glue!" echoed Esmeralda shrilly.
"Glue!" shrieked Pixie in even shriller echo.
The two pairs of eyes were fixed upon him in horrified incredulity. The pity, the commiseration of their expressions was touching to behold.
"Oh, poor fellow!" sighed Esmeralda softly. "You _must_ be poor! How can anyone manage to make a living out of--glue?"
"But you know, Esmeralda darling, it is useful! We break such heaps of things ourselves. We often use it," urged Pixie anxiously; and at this her sister brightened visibly.
"We do. That"s true for you, Pixie. Perhaps it"s your glue we use, Mr Hilliard. Dear me, it will be quite cheering when we break anything after this! We shall feel we are helping a friend by our misfortune."
"That"s very kind of you. I"ll remember that you said that, and it will cheer me too," replied Hilliard gallantly, and at that very moment a sound came to the ears of all. "The gong! It must be tea-time. They are sounding it to let us hear. I hope I have not kept you out too long."
Ten minutes later they were all seated in the hall enjoying tea and scones, while Bridgie smiled sweetly on their flushed, animated faces.
"You look well after your walk," she said. "And what did Mr Hilliard think of our tame ruins?"
Pixie looked at Esmeralda; Esmeralda looked at Mr Hilliard; Mr Hilliard looked at his boots. One and all they had forgotten all about the ruins!
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.
THE UNWRITTEN PAGE.
The New Year gathering was a great success, and justified Esmeralda"s boast that she would organise an entertainment which should be both original and striking. Mademoiselle was not admitted to the secret conferences, for she was to be surprised with the other guests; but she could not shut her ears, and would not have done so if she could, for the sound of the music which rose to her ears was too melodious to lose.
One and all the O"Shaughnessys possessed beautiful singing voices, and though the carols which they rehea.r.s.ed were simple in themselves, they were practised with a care which made them a joy to hear. Over and over again the Major made his choir repeat a certain phrase, until the _diminuendo_ or _crescendo_ was rendered to his satisfaction, until opening and closing notes sounded together to the instant, and due expression was given to every mark. Music he loved, and over music would spend time and trouble which he would have grudged in almost every other way; but he rubbed his hands with satisfaction when the last rehearsal was over, and boasted gleefully that for carol-singing not many choirs could be found to beat his own.
By eight o"clock the girls were dressed and strutting up and down the hall to exhibit themselves to the gaze of their companions. Bridgie wore her coming-out dress--not so white as it had once been, but carefully chalked at the worst places, and swathed in lovely old lace round the shoulders. Esmeralda sported a pink moire dress which had once belonged to her mother, with a voluminous sash of white muslin, since nothing more elaborate was to hand, a wreath of roses out of last summer"s hat pinned over one shoulder, with all the crunched-up leaves ironed out smooth and flat, and white gloves cleaned with benzoline until you could hardly tell them from new. She was a vision of elegance, or looked so at least to the ordinary observer; for when a girl is eighteen, and a beauty at that, she is bound to look charming, whatever be her clothes.
At nine o"clock the guests were asked, and the hour had barely struck before they began to arrive. The sound of horses" feet was heard from without, wheels drew up before the door, and in they came, one party after another, having driven across country in the cold and the dark for five, for six, and in one instance for ten long miles, but arriving fresh and radiant for all that, and br.i.m.m.i.n.g over with good humour.
Mademoiselle thought that she had not seen such a merry a.s.sembly since leaving her own dear land, or heard such a babel of tongues. Everyone seemed to know everyone else, and to be on terms of closest intimacy and affection; everyone talked at once and exclaimed with rapture and admiration at the preparations for the entertainment. It was easy to amuse such a company, and dancing and games were carried on with gusto in the long drawing-room, which had been prepared for the occasion, and looked comparatively festive with great fires burning in the fireplaces at either end.
Soon after eleven o"clock the different members of the O"Shaughnessy family began to slip out of the room, but almost before their absence was noted, the Major was ringing a bell to attract attention and marshalling the company to the far end of the room. At the same signal two servants entered the room, turned out the lamps, and drew aside the curtains from the mullioned windows, through which the grounds could be seen, lying white and still in the moonlight. There was a rustle of expectation among the guests, for evidently something was about to happen, something appropriate to the day and the hour, yet what it could be no one had the ghost of an idea. That was the best of those dear O"Shaughnessys, a smiling lady confided to Geoffrey Hilliard--no one could tell what they would be up to next! They were different from everybody else, and their ways were so much more amusing and charming than the ordinary stereotyped usages of society.
Hilliard agreed with fervour, and found an additional proof of the a.s.sertion as, one by one, a picturesque band of carollers entered the room by the farthest door and took up their position in a semicircle facing the audience. They were uniformly robed in black, with cowl-like hoods hanging loosely round the face, and each bore a stick, on the end of which waved a brilliant j.a.panese lantern. The lights lit up the features of the singers, and seldom indeed had "the beautiful O"Shaughnessys" appeared to greater advantage than at this moment.
Jack"s handsome features and commanding stature made him appear a type of young manhood, Miles for once forgot to grimace, and Pat"s misleading air of innocence was even more guileless and touching than usual. As for the girls, Esmeralda looked like a picture by Rossetti, and Bridgie"s halo of golden hair was more bewitching than ever in its sombre setting. No one looked at Pixie until the signal was given and the choristers burst into song, when she came in for even more than her own share of admiration, for the treble solos were without exception given to her to sing, and the piercing sweetness of the young voice moved some of the more emotional of the audience to surrept.i.tious tears.
Several carols were sung, interspersed with part-songs suitable to the occasion, and then the singers formed up in rank two and two, and at the Major"s request the guests followed their example, making a long procession in the rear. Another song was started, something slow and plaintive in tone, its subject being the dying year, with regret for all that it had brought of joy and gladness, and to its strains the procession started on a strange and charming expedition. Down one long corridor, unlit save by the cold light from without and the warm flicker of lantern ahead along a deserted wing, where dust lay thick on the walls and the faces of departed ancestors looked down sadly from their tarnished frames, finally down the circular staircase, from which Esmeralda had had her first glimpse of Geoffrey Hilliard, and so into the great hall beneath. At the end farthest from the door the Major halted, raised one hand, and called aloud in slow, solemn tones.
"Prithee, silence!" he said. That was all--"Prithee, silence!" and at the sound there was another flutter of excitement among the guests. The hands of the clock pointed to four minutes to twelve, and it was evident that the last item in the charming programme was about to take place.
Ladies moved about on tiptoe, mounting the first steps of the staircase, or standing on stools to ensure a better view. Men moved politely to the rear. There was a minute"s preoccupation, and when the general gaze was once more turned to the doorway, it was seen that a significant change had taken place in the scene.
Against a background of screens stood the figure of an old man--a very old man, it would appear, since his back was bowed and his head and beard white as the snow on the ground outside. His brown cloak hung in tatters, and he leant heavily upon his staff. A deep-toned "Ah-h!"
sounded through the a.s.sembly, and showed that the onlookers were at no loss to understand the character which he was intended to represent.
"The Old Year," murmured one voice after another.
Then a solemn hush fell over all as the clock ticked out the last minutes, and through the opened door came a blast of icy air and a few flakes of snow, blown inwards by the wind. Only another minute, and then there it came--the slow, solemn chiming of the clock on the tower.
One, two, three. Good-bye, Old Year! What if you have brought troubles in your wake, you have brought blessings too, and sunny summer hours!
Four, five, six--Dear old friend, we are sorrier to part with thee than we knew! We have not appreciated thee enough, made enough of thy opportunities. If we have ever reproached thee, thou hast cause to reproach us now. Seven, eight, nine. Going so soon? We were used to thee, and had been long companions, and of the new and untried there is always a dread. Good-bye, Old Year! Take with thee our blessings and our thanks, our sorrowful regrets for all wherein we have been amiss.
Ten, eleven, _twelve_.
It is here! The New Year has come, and to greet its arrival such a clashing of bells, such an outburst of strange and jangling sounds as fairly deafened the listening ears. Molly, grinning from ear to ear, was running the broom-handle up and down the row of bells outside the servants" hall. Mike was belabouring the gong as if his life depended on his exertions. The stable-boy was blowing shrilly through a tin whistle, and the fat old cook was dashing trays of empty mustard-tins on the stone floor, and going off into peals of laughter between each movement.
Perhaps it was owing to the stunning effect of this sudden noise that what had happened at the doorway seemed to have something of the quickness of magic to the astonished onlookers, but a good deal of the credit was still due to the castors, on which the screens had been mounted, to an ingenious arrangement of strings, and to many and careful rehearsals. Certain it is that, whereas at one moment the figure of the Old Year was visible to all, at the next he had disappeared, and the sound of that last long chime had hardly died away before another figure stood in his place. No need to ask the name of the visitor. It was once more patent to the most obtuse beholder. A small, girlish figure with dark locks falling loosely over the shoulders, with a straight white gown reaching midway between the knees and the ankles, and showing little bare feet encased in sandals. A few white blossoms were held loosely in one hand, and in the other a long white scroll--the page on which was to be inscribed the history of an untried path.
Pixie"s face was white and awed, for the solemnity of the occasion and the poetry of the impersonation alike appealed to her emotional nature, and there was an expression upon the plain little face which was more impressive than any mere pink and white prettiness, as more than one of the onlookers remarked with astonishment.
"Who could have believed that that child could look like that?" cried Geoffrey Hilliard to Mademoiselle, and that young lady tossed her head with an impatient movement.
"Why not, pray? If Pixie is not pretty, she is something better--she is _spirituelle_!" for it had come to this, that Mademoiselle could not endure to hear Pixie adversely criticised, and resented a depreciating remark as hotly as if it had had reference to herself.
At this point the formal programme came to an end, and the guests hurried forward to shake hands with their hosts and thank them over and over again for the entertainment which they had provided, while the choristers shed their monk-like robes, (nothing after all but mackintosh cloaks with hoods cut out of black calico!) and appeared once more in evening dress. The way was led to the dining-room, where refreshments were spread out on the long table, and there was much drinking of healths and exchanging of good wishes for the New Year. Everyone was hungry and happy, and Mademoiselle"s cakes and jellies were much appreciated; but Esmeralda sighed as she looked around, and ate sandwiches with such a pensive air that Hilliard demanded the reason of her depression.
"This!" she sighed, holding out the half-eaten fragment, on which was plainly circled the mark of small white teeth. "It hurts my sense of fitness. We should have had boar"s head and venison, and a sheep roasted whole. We have some lovely old silver dishes which would have held them, but--" the "but" was significant, and she raised her beautiful shoulders with a shrug--"those days have departed. We have to be content with sandwiches now."
"There"s no limit to one, surely," Hilliard replied gravely. "We will keep this plate to ourselves, for I am prepared to eat a very good half, and you must be hungry after your exertions. I can"t tell how much I have enjoyed this evening. It will stand out in my memory as unlike any other I have ever spent. I shall often recall it when I am back in town."
"When--when are you going back?" asked Esmeralda, with an anxiety which she made no effort to conceal. "Not very soon, I hope. Jack goes to- morrow, and that is quite enough at one time. Oh, I do hate the end of the Christmas season! Everyone seems to go away. In a fortnight or so Pixie will be off, and Mademoiselle with her. It has been so delightful having a visitor in the house, and she has been so kind and useful. She made most of the things on the table to-night,--all those pretty iced cakes."
"Ah, yes! Very clever, I"m sure," said Hilliard absently. It was easy to see that he had no attention to spare for Mademoiselle or her confectionery, and presently he added in a lower tone, "There is no immediate hurry for my return. I can just as well stay another three or four days, but I must be back in town before this day week. I fear there is no getting out of that."
"Glue?" queried Esmeralda saucily. They were sitting together at a little table behind most of the other guests, and she lay back in her chair looking up at him with a roguish smile. "Glue?"
"Glue princ.i.p.ally. It is a very--er--engrossing occupation," returned Hilliard, n.o.bly resisting the inclination to pun; "but I think it could manage without me for a few days longer, and perhaps we could have another ride together. There is a meet somewhere near the day after to- morrow. Shall you be there?"
Esmeralda hesitated, seized with a sudden mysterious disinclination to say "No," a desperate longing to say "Yes," and yet--and yet,--how could it decently be done?
"I--don"t know! It"s Bridgie"s turn. We have only one horse between us, and I have been the last three times. I don"t like to ask her again. It seems so mean."
"But if you did ask, she would let you go. She would not mind taking her turn later on?"
"Oh no, or not at all, for the matter of that. There"s nothing Bridgie wouldn"t give away if anyone else wanted it. She"s an angel. It"s just because she"s so sweet that I"m ashamed to be selfish."