CHAPTER III
.
A GIFT OF JUDAS.
“Oh!” said Ravenel Annesley to the empty schoolroom, the ill-spread breakfast-table. She stared at the small envelope that lay on her plate with a breathless, helpless joy. Since this four days past she had hoped for it in vain.
“I never thought he’d write by post!” she thought, pouncing on it and inspecting every inch of it, from the London postmark to the last letter of the address. “But her ladyship couldn’t have suspected it was from Adrian, or I never would have seen it! It was just that London postmark that saved me!”
She turned it over sharply with the horrid thought that perhaps she had only got it after Lady Annesley knew what was in it, for the post-bag always went to her bedroom, and her ladyship’s prejudices were few. But the clean, red seal on the back of it reassured her no one had tampered with that clear-cut A. Tommy, sauntering in, whistled as he looked from his sister’s face to the envelope she was tearing open.
“My Nel,” she read breathlessly.
“I find I can go to the duchess’ to-morrow. I was afraid I couldn’t manage it. My ship sails on the 15th, so the 14th is our only day. I have arranged everything, got the license, seen the curate at Effingham, and I’ll come to the back gate for you at three on the 14th, which is our only chance for Effingham, as my ship sails a day sooner than I thought. Will it be very hard for you to get away? But you’ll do it, won’t you? Bring Tommy if you like. It does not seem true that the next time I see you will be on our wedding-day, does it, sweetheart? I feel as though I were hurrying you brutally, but it is our only chance. Excuse pencil and haste, but I’m writing in another man’s rooms, and his ink won’t work.
“Always yours--my very dearest,
“ADRIAN.”
But Miss Annesley bestowed no attention on the pencil-scrawl or the dates written in figures, which Lady Annesley would have considered tempting Providence.
“To-day is the twelfth,” she thought joyfully. “I’ll see him to-morrow at the duchess’. Oh, if I only had something fit to wear!”
“Look here,” said Sir Thomas suddenly. “When you have done moaning over that precious letter I wish to discourse. Are you going to marry Gordon?”
“Shut up, Tommy!” she was scarlet. “Some one might hear.”
“Who could?” scornfully. “The Umbrella’s at her breakfast. Are you? Because, I should if I were you! it may be your only chance,” significantly.
“Yes, I am!” she said defiantly, and afterward was glad she had told no more.
“But what do you mean?” for his face was sober.
“Only that somehow I think her ladyship’s in mischief. She’s been eying you like a cat lately. I feel afraid she may be on to you and Gordon.”
“I don’t care if she is.” Somehow she could not tell all her wild plan to Tommy. “I’m engaged to him. Why should I care?”
“You don’t now, but you will when her eye’s on you,” shrewdly.
“I’ll soon find out. She wants me after breakfast,” bestowing Adrian’s note in a safe pocket. “I suppose it’s about the duchess’ party to-morrow. Do you know I’m to go?”
The boy nodded.
“Good old duchess!” he said disrespectfully. “Ever see her on a bicycle? She’s gorgeous. You’ll never be a fine woman like that unless you make her ladyship give us more to eat,” dolefully.
“What do you bet--she’s having sweetbreads up-stairs?”
“Don’t bet,” concisely. “Met them going up. I’ll go up myself now, Tommy, and hear the worst.”
She marched out of the untidy old schoolroom, where she and Tommy had their meals, and through the bare passages to the only luxurious room in the house. It was like going into another world, a world of scent and rose-colored hangings and mirrors, silver-topped bottles and cushions. On a sofa sat its owner and in the tempered light she was beautiful still. Yet she looked enviously at Ravenel standing in the doorway. With half her looks Sylvia Annesley would have married a duke.
“You wanted me?” Somehow Ravenel was nervous.
“Yes,” pointing to a chair; “about to-morrow. Have you anything to wear?”
“My Sunday frock,” coloring as she remembered when she had last worn it.
Lady Annesley let a gleam of amusement come into her eyes, since her back was to the light.
“That lavender thing! It can’t be fit.”
“It’s all right,” hastily. “It doesn’t matter what I wear.”
“Except that I fancy the duchess would like to see you decent.” So carelessly that no one would have dreamed that all her schemes might be made or marred by her step-daughter’s toilet at a country garden-party.
“It’s my lavender or nothing!” returned that young person not too amiably.
Lady Annesley’s answer made her jump.
“Not at all! I am going to give you a gown. I sent for you to try it on.”
“You!” It sounded more candid than polite. “Why? What for?” For her life she could not get out any thanks. Lady Annesley, who let her go cold in winter, to suddenly present her with a new dress. “I--I’d rather not,” she ended stiffly.
“Oh, you might see it first,” rather dryly. “Adams, Miss Ravenel’s gown!”
Ravenel watched the Umbrella go to a wardrobe.
“If she made it,” she thought, “I’ll never put it on!”
Sylvia Annesley read the obstinate face like print.
“You see,” she said lightly, “the whole county will be there to-morrow, and all the soldiers! You simply can’t go in a tumbled old muslin.”
All the soldiers! And Adrian had never seen her in a frock that was even new. Lady Annesley saw her waver.
“That is the little gown,” she said quickly. “Slip it on and decide afterward,” thinking that mention of the soldiers had done the business, and blessing the discretion of her maid without which she might have given her stepdaughter ten gowns and not known how to make her wear them.
For Ravenel had risen and was staring at the ivory-white, silk-lined muslin the Umbrella held.
There was not a spot of color about it, and as she gazed the girl knew that Adrian had never even dreamed of her as she would look in that filmy white frock.
“I can’t take it,” she faltered, but she let the Umbrella put it on her.
“The hat, Adams!” cried Lady Annesley quickly. “In the next room. Give me the scissors first. The collar is too high in the back.”
She snipped hastily once or twice, but Ravenel hardly felt the cold scissors as she stared down at her long skirt.
“There, look at yourself.” With a curious lingering touch, Lady Annesley pushed her to the glass. But the girl gave a little cry of astonishment.
Was this her very own self who stood so thin and tall, her bronze hair gleaming, her cheeks rose-red, her eyes--she turned from the mirror with sudden passion. No matter who gave her the gown she would wear it! would go all in white for Adrian Gordon’s eyes.
“Do you know it is very good of you?” She faced the woman in the yellow silk morning gown honestly. “I don’t deserve it.”
“It is not new. I had the things,” slowly. “Just turn and let me see how the train hangs.” She stooped gracefully, pulled the bodice down under the skirt, settled the train. She also had not been prepared for the dream of peach and carnation the girl looked in the white gown; had doubted if her one card were strong enough to play against the world-worn shrewdness of a man grown old in society. But she was confident enough now.
“I can snap my fingers at Captain Gordon, I fancy,” and she tightened her small hand. “He can’t blame any one but himself,” but she kept the scorn off her face till Ravenel had put on her every-day clothes and departed.
“Tommy,” the girl cried, bursting into the schoolroom and recounting her extraordinary tale, “fancy her giving me a dress! Do you think it means she’s beginning to like me?” wistfully.
“I don’t think--I know,” said Sir Thomas bluntly. “It means Lord Levallion. You bet your boots he’s going to that party.”
“What do you mean?” blankly. “I never heard of the man.”
“Her ladyship dropped that out the window,” producing a torn envelope. “It blew slap in my face. Dark-blue coronet, ‘Levallion’ on the back and ‘Lady An----’ torn through in front. And, sent by hand!”
“I don’t see what that’s got to do with the garden-party!”
“Don’t you?” getting up. “You’re a girl and can’t see past your nose. I tell you Levallion’s staying with the duchess. Aren’t you hungry? I’m going out to get that ginger beer I buried. I hooked some buns, too. We hadn’t too much breakfast.”
“We’ll get less after to-morrow,” following him briskly into the garden. “For I’m not going to speak to any nasty old Lord Levallion--not for ten gowns. I’m going to----” She stopped short, white with terror.
“My ring!” she cried wildly. “I took off my dress before her. She must have seen it.”
Both hands at her throat, she fumbled for her treasure; and leaned back against a convenient tree with her knees giving under her.
Ring and ribbon were gone!
##