"You may talk till doomsday, Esmeralda," said Pixie quietly, "but I shall keep my word!"
Mentally Pixie had been deeply impressed by the other"s confidences, and not a little perturbed thereby, but it was against her sense of loyalty to allow such feelings to appear. To her own heart she confessed that she was altogether without this strange sense of elation, this mysterious new birth which Esmeralda considered all important under the circ.u.mstances. She was certainly happy, for with Stanor"s coming the cloud which had hovered over the house had begun to disperse. She had opened her own eyes to the good news of Jack"s first sleep, and each day the improvement had continued, while Stanor motored over, to sit by her side, cheering her, saying loving, gentle things, building castles in the air of a life together. ... Yes, she was _very_ happy, but ... she had been happy before, there was nothing astoundingly, incredibly _new_ in her sensations.
Pixie sent her thoughts back into the past, endeavouring to recall recollections of Joan"s engagement, of Bridgie"s, of Jack"s. Yes, certainly they had all become exceedingly different under the new conditions. She recalled in especial Bridgie"s face beneath her bridal veil. Child as she herself had been at that time she had been arrested by that expression: nor had she been allowed to forget it, for from time to time during the last six years she had seen it again. "The _shiny_ look!" she had christened it in her thoughts. Sweet and loving were Bridgie"s eyes for every soul that breathed, but that one particular look shone for one person alone! Pixie"s heart contracted in a pang of longing; it was almost like the pang she had felt in the drawing-room of Holly House on that dread afternoon when the news of her father"s death had been broken to her--a pang of longing, a sore, sore feeling of something wanting. She shivered, then drew herself together with indignant remembrance. She was _engaged_! What sentiments were these for an engaged girl? How could she feel a blank when still more love was added to her share?
"If you talk till doomsday, Esmeralda, I"ll keep my word. Stanor loves me and says I can help him. I said I would, and, me dear, _I will_!
We"ve been through a lot of trouble this last week, isn"t it a pity to try to make more for no good? My mind"s made up!"
Joan Hilliard was silent. In her heart of hearts she realised that there was nothing more to say. Pixie was Pixie. As well try to move a mountain from its place, as persuade that sweet, loving, most loyal of creatures to draw back from a solemn pledge. Something might be done with Stanor perhaps, or, failing Stanor, through that erratic person, his uncle. She must consult with Geoffrey and Bridgie, together they might insist upon a period of waiting and separation before a definite engagement was announced. Pixie was still under age. Until her twenty-first birthday her guardians might safely demand a delay. Joan knew that Stanor Vaughan had had pa.s.sing fancies before now, and had little belief that the present entanglement would prove more lasting.
Circ.u.mstances had induced a special intimacy with Pixie, but when they were separated he would repent.--If he himself set Pixie free! ... So far did Joan"s thoughts carry her, then, looking at the girl"s happy face, she felt a sharp pang of contrition.
"Me dear, I want you to be happy! If it makes you happy to marry Stanor, I"ll give you my blessing, and the finest trousseau that money can buy. You"re young yet, and he has his way to make. You"ll have to wait patiently, for a few years, until he can make a home, but it"s a happy time, being engaged. I feel defrauded myself to have had so little of it. Storing up things in a bottom drawer, and picking up old furniture at sales, and polishing it up so lovingly, thinking of where it is going, and letters coming and going, and looking forward to the time when he"ll come down next--"tis a beautiful time. Three or four years ought to pa.s.s like a trice!"
"Besides leaving plenty of time to change your mind. I know you, me dear!" cried Pixie shrewdly. "I see through you! You"ll be relieved to hear that the date has not been mentioned, but you can start with the trousseau as soon as you please. I"ll take it in quarterly instalments, and spin out the pleasure, besides sparing my friends the shock of seeing me suddenly turn grand. My affianced suitor is coming to proffer a formal demand for my hand. Will ye be kind to him now, and give him some tea?"
"I will," said Joan readily. To herself she added: "We are all alike, we O"Shaughnessys, we will be led, but we will _not_ be driven. It"s no use appearing to object! Things must just take their course..."
CHAPTER SIXTEEN.
THE "RUNKLE" INTERVENES.
As little Jack continued to progress towards convalescence, the attention of the household became increasingly absorbed by the astounding fact of Pixie"s projected engagement. Bridgie, detained at home by malapropos ailments on the part of the children, wrote urgent letters by daily posts, contradicting herself on every point saving one alone--the advisability of delay. Geoffrey Hilliard as host, d.i.c.k Victor as guardian, Jack, Pat, and Miles as brothers, proposed, seconded, and carried by acclamation the same waiting policy. And no one who has the faintest knowledge of human nature will need to be told that such an att.i.tude had the effect of rousing the youthful lovers to the liveliest impatience.
Stanor in particular was moved to rebellion. His pride was hurt by so lukewarm a reception of his addresses, which was all the more disagreeable for being unexpected. The Hilliards had shown so much friendship and hospitality to him as a friend, that he had taken for granted that they would welcome him in a closer relationship. He was not a great _parti_ it was true, but then by her own confession Pixie had no fortune of her own, and had been accustomed to modest means.
Stanor did not say to himself in so many words that he happened to possess an exceptionally handsome and popular personality, he refused even to frame a definite thought to that effect; nevertheless the consciousness was there, and added to his chagrin.
Lounging along the country lanes, his hands thrust deep into his pockets, Stanor told himself that it was a disappointing old world: a fellow always imagined that when he got engaged he would have the time of his life; in books a fellow was represented as walking upon air, in a condition of rapture too intense for belief--it was disappointing to find his own experience fall so short of the ideal!
Sweet little Pixie, of course, was a beguiling creature. Stanor would not admit any shortcomings in his _fiancee_, but he did allow himself to wonder tentatively if he had spoken too soon: if she were not, perhaps, a trifle young to understand the meaning of the new claim. The daily interviews which he had been vouchsafed had been full of interest and charm, but they had not succeeded in stifling the doubt which had marred the first minutes of acceptance, for alas! it was when Pixie was the most affectionate that her lover was most acutely conscious of the subtle want. And then, as if there was not already enough worry and trouble, there was the Runkle. ... The Runkle would be bound to put in his oar!
Stanor had delayed sending word of his engagement to the man who stood to him in the place of a father, silencing his conscience by the a.s.sertion that there was yet nothing to announce. Until Pixie"s guardians came down from their present unnatural position, there might be an understanding, but there could not be said to be a formal engagement.
It was Pixie herself who finally forced him to dispatch the news. It was Stanor"s first experience of arguing a point with a woman, and a most confusing experience he found it. Pixie invariably agreed with every separate argument as he advanced it, saw eye to eye with him on each separate point, sympathised warmly with his scruples, and then at the very moment when she was expected to say "yes" to the final decision, said "no," and stuck to it with conviction. Questioned as to the reason of such inconsistency, she had only one excuse to plead, and she pled it so often and with such insistence that it seemed easier to give in than to continue the argument. "Yes, but he"s lame!" came back automatically as the answer to every remonstrance, till Stanor shrugged his shoulders and sat down to write his letter.
Pixie _was_ indeed, as the family had it, "the soft-heartedest creature!" He loved her for it, but none the less depression seized him anew. Now there would be the Runkle to tackle! More arguments! More objections! A fellow ought to be jolly happy when he was married, to make up for all the fuss and agitation which went before...
Stanor"s letter of announcement was short and to the point, for he was not in the mood to lapse into sentiment. By return of post came the Runkle"s reply, short also, and non-committal--nothing more, in fact, than the announcement that he preferred to discuss the matter in person, and would the following day arrive at a certain hotel, where he bade his nephew meet him. Stanor therefore made his excuses to his hostess, packed his bag, and dispatched a letter of explanation to his _fiancee_, unconscious of the fact that she was at that very hour receiving information first hand.
It came about in the most natural, and simple fashion. As Pixie, roaming the grounds bareheaded to gather a bouquet of wild flowers to present to the little invalid, emerged suddenly upon the drive, she found a tall, grey-coated stranger leaning against a tree in an att.i.tude expressive of collapse. He was very tall, and very thin; the framework of his shoulders was high and broad, but from them the coat seemed to flap around a mere skeleton of a frame. His hair was dark, his complexion pale, and leaning back with closed eyes he looked so alarmingly ill and spent, that, dropping the flowers to the ground, Pixie leaped forward to the rescue.
"You"re ill. ... Let me help! There"s a seat close by. ... Lean on me!"
The stranger opened his eyes, and Pixie started as most people _did_ start when they first looked into Stephen Glynn"s eyes, which were of that deep, intense blue which is romantically dubbed purple and fringed with dark lashes, which added still further to their depth. They were sad eyes, tired eyes, eyes of an exceeding and pitiful beauty, eloquent of suffering and repression. They looked out under dark, level brows, and with their intense earnestness of expression flooded the thin face with life. As she met their gaze Pixie drew a quick, gasping breath of surprise.
The stranger in his turn looked surprised and startled; he bent his head in involuntary salute, and glanced down at the tiny arm offered for his support. Six foot two he stood in his stockinged feet, and there was this sc.r.a.p of a girl offering her little doll-like arm for support! His lips twitched, and Pixie pounced on the meaning with her usual agility.
"But I"m wiry," she announced proudly. "You wouldn"t believe my strength till you try it. Just for a few yards. ... Round the corner by the oak-tree. _Please_!"
"You are too kind. I am not ill, but the walk from the station is very steep and I found it tiring, that"s all. I shall be glad to rest for a moment, but I a.s.sure you no help is needed."
He took a step forward as he spoke, a quick, halting step, and Pixie looking on, exclaimed sharply--
"_The Runkle_! Stanor"s Runkle! It is _You_!"
The stranger looked down sharply, his dark brows puckering in astonishment.
"I am Stephen Glynn--"The Runkle," as my nephew is pleased to call me.
But you--you cannot be--"
Pixie nodded vehemently.
"I _am_!--Pixie O"Shaughnessy. Going to be your niece. I made Stanor write to tell you.--"
They seated themselves on the bench under the oak-tree, and turning, faced each other in a long, curious silence, during which each face a.s.sumed a puzzled expression.
"But you are younger than I expected!" cried Pixie.
"That is exactly what I was on the point of saying to _you_," returned Mr Glynn.
"And yet we know exactly how old we both are--twenty and thirty-five!"
Pixie continued volubly. "But you know how it is with young men--they have no patience to explain! You"d be amused if you could see the image I"d made of you in my own mind. I expect "twas the same with yourself?"
"It was," agreed Mr Glynn, and for a moment imagined that his disappointment was his own secret--only for a moment, however, then Pixie tilted her head at him with a sideways nod of comprehension.
"Knowing, of course, that I was a sister of the beautiful Mrs Hilliard!
No wonder you are disappointed!" The eyes smiled sympathy at him, and the wide lips parted in the friendliest of smiles. "You"ll like me better when you know me!"
"I--I am quite sure," stammered Mr Glynn, and then drew himself up suddenly, as if doubtful if agreement were altogether polite under the circ.u.mstances. Once more his lips twitched, and as their eyes met he and Pixie collapsed together into an irresistible laugh. He laughed well, a rare and charming accomplishment, and Pixie regarded him with benign approval.
"Quite romantic, isn"t it? The n.o.ble kinsman journeying in state to demand the hand of the charming maid, falls ill of the perils of the way, and encounters a simple cottage maid gathering flowers, who succours the stranger in distress. Their ident.i.ty is then revealed. ...
I _do_ love romances!" cried Pixie gushingly. "And it"s much nicer having an interview out here than in a stuffy room ... Please, Mr Kinsman--begin!"
He frowned, bit at his under lip, and moved restlessly on the seat, glancing once and again at the girl"s bright, unclouded face.
"I"m afraid," he began slowly, "that the matter is not altogether as simple as you suppose. Stanor is not in a position to marry without my consent. I think he has not sufficiently appreciated this fact. If he had consulted me in the first instance I should have endeavoured to prevent--"
She turned her eyes upon him like a frightened child. There was no trace of anger, nor wounded pride--those he could have faced with ease-- but the simple shock of the young face smote on his heart.
"I had not seen you, remember!" he cried quickly. "My decision had no personal element. I object at this stage to Stanor becoming engaged to--anybody. He has, no doubt, explained to you our relationship. His parents being dead, I made myself responsible for his training. He may have explained to you also my wish that for a few years he should be free to enjoy his youth without any sense of responsibility?"
Pixie nodded gravely.
"He has. I understood. You had missed those years yourself, and knew they could never come back, so you gave them to him as a gift--young, happy years without a care, that he could treasure up in his mind and remember all his life. "Twas a big gift! Stanor, and I are grateful to you--"
Stephen Glynn looked at her: a long, thoughtful glance. The programme which he had mapped out for his nephew had been unusual enough to attract much notice. He had been alternately annoyed and amused by the criticism of his neighbours, all of whom seemed incapable of understanding his real motives. It seemed a strange thing that it should be reserved for this slip of a girl to see into his inmost heart.
He was touched and impressed, but that "Stanor and I" hardened him to his task.