"Poor old Tinker is not horrid at all, I a.s.sure you," I said, laughing; "he is a dear fellow, and I am already very fond of him."
"But he nearly killed Nap," she returned, with a little frown; "he is worse than a savage, for he has no notion of hospitality. Nap and I came to call," rising with an air of great dignity. "I suppose you are Miss Garston. I am Lady Betty."
I had never heard of such a person in Heathfield; but of course Uncle Max would enlighten me. As I looked at her more closely I saw my mistake in thinking she was a child; little brown thing as she was, she was fully grown up, and, though not in the least pretty, had a bright piquant face, a _nest retrousse_, and a pair of mischievous eyes.
She was dressed rather extravagantly in a brown velvet walking-dress, with an absurd little hat, that would have fitted a child, on the top of her dark wavy hair; she only wanted a touch of red about her to look like a magnified robin-redbreast.
"Well," she said impatiently, as I hesitated a moment in my surprise, "I have told you we have come for a call, Nap and I; but if you are going out--"
"Oh, that is not the least consequence," I returned, waking up to a sense of my duty. "I am very pleased to see you and Nap; but you must not stop any longer in this cold porch; the wind is rather cutting. There is a nice fire in my parlour." And I led the way in.
I was rather puzzled about Nap, for I seemed to recognise his sleek head and mild brown eyes; and yet where could I have seen him? He trotted in contentedly after his mistress, and stretched himself out on the rug Tinker"s fashion; but Lady Betty, instead of seating herself, began to walk round the room and inspect my books and china, making remarks upon everything in a brisk voice, and questioning me in rather an inquisitive manner about sundry things that attracted her notice; but, to my great surprise and relief, she pa.s.sed Charlie"s picture without remark or comment--only I saw her glancing at it now and then from under her long lashes. This mystified me a little; but I thought her whole behaviour a little peculiar. I had never before seen callers on their first visit perambulating the room like polar bears, or throwing out curious feelers everywhere. As a rule, they sat up stiffly enough and discussed the weather.
Lady Betty was evidently a character; most likely she prided herself on being unlike other people. I was just beginning to wish that she would sit down and let me question her in my turn, when she suddenly put up her eye-gla.s.ses and burst into a most musical little laugh.
"Oh, do come here, Miss Garston; this is too amusing! There goes her majesty Gladys of Gladwyn, accompanied by her prime minister. Don"t they look as though they were walking in the Row?--heads up--everything in perfect trim! They are coming to call--yes!--no!--They are going to the c.o.c.kaignes first. What an escape! my dear creature, if they come here I shall fly to Mrs. Barton. The prime minister"s airs will be too much for my gravity."
I gave her a very divided attention, for I was watching Miss Hamilton and her companion with much interest. I could see that Miss Darrell was chatting volubly; but Miss Hamilton"s face looked as grave and impa.s.sive as it had looked on Sunday. When they had pa.s.sed out of sight I turned to Lady Betty rather eagerly; she had dropped her eye-gla.s.ses, but an amused smile still played round her lips.
"_La belle cousine_ is improving the occasion as usual. Poor Gladys, how bored she looks! but there is no escape for her this afternoon, for the prime minister has her in tow. I wonder from what text she is preaching?
Ezekiel"s dry bones, I should think, from her majesty"s face."
"Do you know the Hamiltons of Gladwyn very intimately?" I asked innocently; but I grew rather out of patience when Lady Betty first lifted her eye-gla.s.s and stared at me, with the air of a non-comprehending kitten, and then buried her face in a very fluffy little m.u.f.f in a fit of uncontrolled merriment.
I was provoked by this, and determined not to say a word. So presently she came out of her m.u.f.f and asked me, with mirthful eyes, for whom I took her.
"You are Lady Betty, I understood," was my stiff response.
"Yes, of course; every one calls me that, except the vicar, who will address me as Miss Elizabeth. I never will answer to that name; I hate it so. The servants up at Gladwyn never dare to use it. I would get Etta to dismiss them if they did. Is it not a shame that people should not have a voice in the matter of their name,--that helpless infants should be abandoned to the tender mercies of some old fogey of a sponsor? Miss Garston, if I were ever to hear you address me by that name it would be the death-warrant to our friendship."
"Let me know who you really are first, and then I will promise not to offend your peculiar prejudice."
"Dear me!" she answered pettishly, "you talk just like Giles. He often laughs at me and makes himself very unpleasant. But then, as I often tell him, philanthropists are not pleasant people with whom to live; a man with a hobby is always odious. Well, Miss Garston, if you will be so prying, my name is Elizabeth Grant Hamilton; only from a baby I have been called Lady Betty."
"I shall remember," I replied quietly, for really the little thing seemed quite ruffled. This was evidently more than a whim on her part. "It would have seemed to me a liberty to use a family pet name. But of course if you wish me to do so--"
"I do wish it," rather peremptorily. "That is partly why Mr. Cunliffe and I are not good friends,--that, and other reasons."
"Oh, I am sorry you do not like Uncle Max," I said, rather impulsively; but she drew herself up after the manner of an aggrieved pigeon. She was rather like a bright-eyed bird, with her fluffy hair and quick movements.
"Oh, I like him well enough, but I do not understand him. Men are not easy to understand. He is quiet, but he is disappointing. We must not expect perfection in this world," finished the little lady sententiously.
"I have never met any one half as good as Uncle Max," was my warm retort.
"He is the most unselfish of men."
"Unselfish men make mistakes sometimes," she returned drily. "Giles and he are great friends. He is up at Gladwyn a great deal; so is Mr. Tudor.
Mr. Tudor is not a finished character, but he has good points, and one can tolerate him. There, how vexing, we were just beginning to talk comfortably, and I see the shadow of her majesty"s gown at the gate.
Come, Nap, we must fly to Mrs. Barton"s for refuge. _Au revoir_, Miss Garston." And, kissing her little gloved hand, this strangest of Lady Betties vanished, followed by the obedient Nap.
My pulses quickened a little at the prospect of seeing the beautiful face of Gladys Hamilton in my little room; but it was not she who entered first, but Miss Darrell, whose sharp incisive glance had taken in every detail of my surroundings before her faultlessly-gloved hand had released mine; and even when I turned to greet Miss Hamilton, her peculiar and somewhat toneless voice claimed my attention.
"How very fortunate," she began, seating herself with elaborate caution with her back to the light. "We hardly hoped to find you at home, Miss Garston. My cousin Giles informed us how much engaged you were. We have been so interested in what Mr. Cunliffe told us about it. It is such a romantic scheme, and, as I am a very romantic person, you may be sure of my sympathy. Gladys, dear, is this not a charming room? Positively you have so altered and beautified it that I can hardly believe it is the same room. I told a friend of ours, Mrs. Saunders, that it would never suit her, as it was such a shabby little place."
"It is very nice," returned Miss Hamilton quietly. "I hope," fixing her large, beautiful eyes on me, "that you are comfortable here? We thought perhaps you might be a little dull."
"I have no time to be dull," I returned, smiling, but Miss Darrell interrupted me.
"No, of course not; busy people are never dull. I told you so, Gladys, as we walked up the road. Depend upon it, I said, Miss Garston will hardly have a minute to give to our idle chatter. She will be wanting to get to her sick people, and wish us at Hanover. Still, as my cousin Giles said, we must do the right thing and call, though I am sure you are not a conventional person; neither am I. Oh, we are quite kindred souls here."
I tried to receive this speech in good part, but I certainly protested inwardly against the notion that Miss Darrell and I would ever be kindred souls. I felt an instinctive repugnance to her voice; its want of tone jarred on me; and all the time she talked, her hard, bright eyes seemed to dart restlessly from Miss Hamilton to me. I felt sure that nothing could escape their scrutiny; but now and then, when one looked at her in return, she seemed to veil them most curiously under the long curling lashes.
She was rather an elegant-looking woman, but her face was decidedly plain. She had thin lips and rather a square jaw, and her sallow complexion lacked colour. One could not guess her age exactly, but she might have been three-or four-and-thirty. I heard her spoken of afterwards as a very interesting-looking person; certainly her figure was fine, and she knew how to dress herself,--a very useful art when women have no claim to beauty.
Miss Darrell"s voluble tongue seemed to touch on every subject. Miss Hamilton sat perfectly silent, and I had not a chance of addressing her.
Once, when I looked at her, I could see her eyes were fixed on my darling"s picture. She was gazing at it with an air of absorbed melancholy: her lips were firmly closed, and her hands lay folded in her lap.
"That is the picture of my twin-brother," I said softly, to arouse her.
To my surprise, she turned paler than ever, and her lips quivered.
"Your twin brother, yes; and you have lost him?" But here Miss Darrell chimed in again:
"How very interesting! What a blessing photography is, to be sure? Do you take well, Miss Garston? They make me a perfect fright. I tell my cousins that nothing on earth will induce me to try another sitting. Why should I endure such a martyrdom, if it be not to give pleasure to my friends?"
To my surprise, Miss Hamilton"s voice interrupted her: it was a little like her step-brother"s voice, and had a slight hesitation that was not in the least unpleasant. She spoke rather slowly: at least it seemed so by comparison with Miss Darrell"s quick sentences.
"Etta, we have not done what Giles told us. We hope you will come and dine with us to-morrow. Miss Garston, without any ceremony."
"Dear me, how careless of me!" broke in Miss Darrell, but her forehead contracted a little, as though her cousin"s speech annoyed her. "Giles gave the message to me, but we were talking so fast that I quite forgot it. My cousin will have it that you are dull, and our society may cheer you up. I do not hold with Giles. I think you are far too superior a person to be afraid of a little solitude; strong-minded people like you are generally fond of their own society; but all the same I hope you do not mean to be quite a recluse."
"We dine at seven, but I hope you will come as much earlier as you like,"
interposed Miss Hamilton. "No one will be with us but Mr. Tudor."
"You forget Mr. Cunliffe, Gladys," observed Miss Darrell, in rather a sharp voice. "I am sure I do not know what the poor man has done to offend you; but ever since last summer--" But here Miss Hamilton rose with a gesture that was almost queenly, and her impa.s.sive face looked graver than ever.
"I did not know you had invited Mr. Cunliffe, Etta, or I should certainly have mentioned him. Good-bye, Miss Garston: we shall look for you soon after six."
There was something wistful in her expression; it seemed as though she wanted me to come, and yet I was a complete stranger to her. I felt very reluctant to dine at Gladwyn, but that look overruled me.
"I will try to come early," was my answer, and then I drew back to let them pa.s.s.
Miss Darrell bade me good-bye a little stiffly; something had evidently put her out. As they went down the narrow garden path I could see she was speaking to Miss Hamilton rather angrily, but Miss Hamilton seemed to take no notice.
What did it all mean? I wondered; and then I suddenly bethought myself of my other visitor. I had wholly forgotten her existence in my interest in her beautiful sister. What could have become of Lady Betty?
CHAPTER XIV