"Well, she"s in bed, any way," says t.i.ta; "and the question is, what shall we do now?"
"Dance!" says someone.
But they have been dancing every evening, and there seems nothing very special about that.
"I tell you what," says t.i.ta; "let us have hide-and-seek!"
"Oh, how lovely!" cries Mrs. Chichester, springing to her feet.
"What a heavenly suggestion!"
"Yes; two to hunt, and all the rest to hide in couples," says Tom Hescott.
It has occurred to him that he would like to hunt with t.i.ta, or else to hide with her; and it might be managed. Margaret, who happens to be looking at him, makes a slight movement forward.
"Perhaps we should disturb Miss Gower!" says she anxiously.
"Oh no!" says Mrs. Bethune quickly. "Her room is in the north wing.
If we confine our game to this part of the house, she can never hear us."
"Still, it seems such a silly thing to do!" says Margaret nervously.
She distrusts Marian where t.i.ta is concerned. Why should she advocate the game--she who is the embodiment of languor itself, to whom any sort of running about would mean discomfort?
"Dear Margaret," says Mrs. Bethune, in a low voice, but a distinct one--one quite loud enough for Colonel Neilson to hear, who is standing near Miss Knollys--"don"t give way to it; don"t let it conquer you--_too_ soon!"
"It?--what?" asks Margaret unconsciously.
"Middle age!" sweetly, and softly always, but with a rapid glance at Neilson. She leans back and smiles, enjoying the quiet blush that, in spite of her, rises to Margaret"s cheek. "I feel it coming," says she. "Even _I_ feel it. But why encourage it? Why not let these children have their game, without a check from us who are _so_ much older?"
"That is not the question," says Margaret coldly, who has now recovered herself. "My thought was that perhaps Maurice might not approve of this most harmless, if perhaps----"
"Frivolous performance. Of course, if you are going to manage Maurice and Maurice"s wife," with a strange laugh, "there is no more to be said. But I wish you joy of the last task. And as for Maurice," with a curl of her lips, _"he_ is not a prig."
"Well, neither am I, I hope," says Margaret, with perfect temper.
She turns away, Colonel Neilson, who is furious with Mrs. Bethune, following her. As for the latter, she looks after Margaret until she is out of sight, and for once, perhaps, is sorry for her rudeness.
She likes Margaret, but she is out of heart to-night and irritable.
The absence of Rylton, the coming of her aunt, all tend to disturb her. And Rylton had gone without a word, a look even!--he who always dwelt upon her words, had studied her looks; he had not given her one farewell sign. She had waited to see if he would give one to t.i.ta; but he had not--at least, nothing in particular--nor had t.i.ta run out to the hall to see him off. She had blown him a little kiss from behind the urn, which he had accepted calmly, and that was all!
"Come on," says Randal excitedly; "Miss Hescott and I will hunt the lot of you! But look here, you must all keep to the parts of the house agreed on. I am not going to have my beloved aunt descending upon me in a nightcap and a wrapper!"
"Well, you must give us three minutes," says t.i.ta, "and you mustn"t stir until you hear someone cry, "Coo-ee!" You understand now, Minnie."
"I know! I"ll keep him in hand," says Miss Hescott.
"And he mustn"t peep," says Mrs. Chichester.
"Good gracious! what a mean thought!" says Mr. Gower, who is already laying plans in his own mind as to how he is to discomfit the hiders, and win laurels for himself as a searcher.
"Well, off we go!" cries Mrs. Chichester, flying out of the room, Captain Marryatt after her.
Hide-and-seek as a game leaves little to be desired. Even Margaret, who had said so much against it, enters into the spirit of it presently, and knows the throes of anguish when the hunter draws nigh her hiding-place, and the glow of joy when she has safely eluded him and flown to the den, without a clutch upon so much as the end of her garments. Indeed, all have given themselves up to the hour and its excitement, except only Marian Bethune, who, whilst entering into the game with apparently all the zest of the others, is ever listening--listening---- He had said he _might_ come home to-night. And it is now close on eleven! In ten minutes, if at all, he will be here. If only she could so manage as to----
They are all now standing once more, laughing, talking, in the small drawing-room, preparatory to another start.
"Who"ll hunt now?" asks Colonel Neilson, who has been far and away the best pursuer up to this.
"Why not t.i.ta and Mr. Hescott?" says Marian suddenly, vivaciously.
She seems to have lost all her indolence. "They have not been hunting once to-night."
"Yes; that is true," says Captain Marryatt.
"I hate hunting and I like hiding," says t.i.ta. "Colonel Neilson, you and Margaret can be our pursuers this time. Come, Tom! come, all of you!"
Mrs. Bethune for a moment frowns, and then a quick light comes back to her eyes. Even _better_ so--if Maurice should arrive. She had planned that they--those two, t.i.ta and her cousin--should be together on his arrival, should he come; and now, now they will be _hiding_ together in all probability! Oh for Maurice to come now--now!
She has evaded her own partner in the game, and, slipping away un.o.bserved, is standing in one of the windows of the deserted library--a window that opens on the avenue--listening for the sound of horses" hoofs. In five minutes Maurice will be here, if he comes at all to-night, and as yet they have scarcely started on their game of hide-and-seek. She had heard t.i.ta whisper to Mr. Hescott something about the picture-gallery--she had caught the word--a delightful place in semi-darkness, and with huge screens here and there. Oh, if only t.i.ta could be found hiding behind one with Mr.
Hescott!
She presses her hot cheek against the pane of the open window, and as she does so she starts. She leans out into the night, and yes--yes, beyond doubt, here is the carriage!
It is rounding the bushes at the corner, and is already in sight.
She springs lightly into the hall--now deserted, as all the house party have gone up the stairs to the happy hunting grounds above.
All, that is, except Margaret and Colonel Neilson, who are waiting for the "Coo-ee."
Mrs. Bethune had forgotten them, and running lightly through the hall, she opens the door, and steps into the moonlight just as Sir Maurice comes up the steps.
"You!" says he, surprised.
"Yes. I heard you coming." There is a sort of wild delight in her voice. She would have liked to have flung herself into his arms, but the men outside are busy with his portmanteau and other things; and then--his mother----
"Your mother?" asks she, peering into the darkness.
"She has not come. I had a telegram from her at Claridge"s. She can"t come till next week, so I came back." He pauses, and then, abruptly, "Where is t.i.ta?"
"t.i.ta?" Mrs. Bethune shrugs her shoulders, and a little low laugh escapes her. "She is playing hide-and-seek," says she, "with--her cousin."
"What are you saying?" exclaims Rylton, her manner far more than her words striking cold to his heart. "Do you mean to insinuate----"
"Why, nothing. I insinuate nothing; we have all been playing----"
"All?"
"Yes."
"You and----"
"And everyone else."