CHAPTER I.

ANTICIPATION.

"And so this is really Desmond's wedding-day?" remarked the dainty invalid, as she donned a remarkably becoming cap, and settled herself comfortably upon her pillows. "Well, to be sure, it is natural enough, I suppose, but somehow he has always seemed such a boy. Really I find it difficult to realise him with a wife. I wonder how the poor girl will get on."

"The _poor_ girl, mother; really I do not think she is to be pitied. I think she has done uncommonly well for herself--a country clergyman's daughter," answered Maud, with a lifting of the delicate dark brows that showed a trace of superciliousness.

"That is just the whole point of the matter, my dear. If he had selected a bride out of his own world she would have known exactly what to expect from her marriage--she would have understood the risk she ran with a youth of Desmond's temperament; but this rustic maiden probably knows nothing, and will not even be on her guard. It makes me anxious for them both."

Maud looked up quickly, knitting her brows somewhat.

"But, mother, Desmond is steady enough now. He has never been more than a little wild and extravagant at Oxford, and so many young men are that. I am sure the last year or two he has been a model of discretion, and his marriage will sober him down still more--at least that is generally supposed to be the effect it has."

"I hope it may--perhaps that is his best chance. Oh no, Maud, I am not running down your brother--you need not give me such black looks. But facts are stubborn things, and it is no use trying to blink them; and the fact remains that your beloved Desmond has never yet stood up with any success against temptation. When there is no special inducement to take him out of the beaten path, he keeps to it pretty steadily; but he cannot withstand temptation, and anyone can lead him, who goes to work the right way."

"You talk as if Desmond were a pitiably weak creature, and I am sure he is anything but that."

The mother smiled a little, and shrugged her shoulders with an almost imperceptible gesture.

"We will not discuss the matter further. Desmond is one of the most attractive men I have ever seen in my life, though I am his mother that say it. He is a great many charming things, as we all know. Let us endow him with all the cardinal virtues as well, if you will. I have no objection, certainly."

Maud made no immediate reply. It was no new thing that her mother's conversation irritated her a good deal more than she would ever have admitted. But the friction was too chronic to be much noticed, and it was not long before she spoke again.

"I almost wish I had gone, after all. I think you could have spared me for two days, mother."

"I am sure I could. I told you so all along, but I thought you rather wished for a valid excuse for staying away."

"Well, I believe I did then, and now I am rather sorry. It seemed as if Desmond were almost throwing himself away, to marry like that. He could have made a really good match if he had liked, and this girl has nothing, I suppose?"

"She has a good old name and a charmingly pretty face, if her photographs do not flatter her outrageously. Of course Desmond might have done better; but then, again, he might have done worse--got into some tiresome or dangerous entanglement, so we will not fall foul of his engagement to Miss Hamilton. Why, they will be positively getting married at this very moment--yes, I wish you had been there, Maud. You could have told me all about it afterwards--how the bride behaved, and what the dresses were like, though, to be sure, in a place like that they would be nothing much to look at. Why, whoever can that be, coming at this hour of the morning? Oh, very likely only a friend to ask at the door after me."

"I think it is surely Beatrice," said Maud a moment later. "I am sure that is her step on the stairs."

"Beatrice--impossible! Beatrice is in town----"

"Is she indeed?" cried a clear, vibrating voice from without; and the next moment the door was thrown open to admit the entrance of a very stylish-looking figure, whose every movement was accompanied by the rustle of silk and the sweeping sound of rich raiment.

Beatrice Vanborough had the knack of producing an impression wherever she went. She was decidedly good-looking, but many better-looking women would attract less notice. Her figure was more perfect than her face, and she had the art of dress almost in perfection--dress in her own style, that is; and her style was to be rather extreme in richness and abundance of adornment. Still, she contrived never to look over-dressed in an ostentatious way, and was greatly admired wherever she went. She spoke with a good deal of gesture, and had several little mannerisms that some people called affectations; but she was abundantly good-natured, and delighted to do anyone a kindness, especially if it did not put her out at all personally, and she was a marked contrast in most external ways to her quiet sister Maud, albeit an excellent understanding existed between them.

"Yes, here I am, you see. We ran down last night, Algy and I. Ascot fairly knocked me up--it was so fearfully hot, I felt like being grilled alive every hour of the day, and then Algy was unlucky, and that made the dear boy a bit bearish; so on the whole we decided that a week of country air would do us good, and here we are. And so Desmond is really being married to-day? Why, Maud, it is too bad of you not to be there. I did my best to get Algy to the scratch, but a country parson's family was altogether too much for him. My lord would not budge an inch, and I could not well go without him; but you ought to be ashamed of yourself. It looks as if his family held aloof, and really I am delighted that the dear boy has taken a wife and settled down. And it will be such an advantage to get the Chase inhabited again. I trust the little rustic maid will not be altogether too ingenuous and rustic. I mean to make great friends with her, and regularly initiate her into the mysteries of fashionable life."

"Well, it will be a very good thing if you do take her in hand; you will do it better than Maud, and I must not attempt much, or I shall get the character of the interfering mother-in-law directly. Yes, I hope it will turn out happily for both; but I could wish he had taken a fancy to someone of whom his family knew more."

"Oh, do you think so? Now, I quite like the idea of the new element about to be introduced. Give me novelty above all things! And is it really true that Desmond is going into the business? That seems to me the most wonderful thing of all. Our bright, careless Desmond to turn into a City merchant! You should have seen how Algy and I laughed when we heard the news. Algy gives him a month before he throws the whole concern overboard."

The mother smiled, and made one of her little indescribable gestures, of which Beatrice's seemed the exaggerated copy; but Maud took up the cudgels, and replied with grave directness--

"I do not see why you should laugh. I think it is a very sensible thing to do. A man is always better for an occupation; and perhaps in time there will be a family to provide for, and it would be much better not to let the business slip out of his hands altogether."

"Sensible! why of course it is sensible; it is the appalling sensibility of the arrangement that is the joke of it. It seems to me that the little bride must have an eye to the main chance, in making such a stipulation, in which case I have hopes of her. She will be better than a fortune to him, if she can only induce him to stick to the collar, and interest himself in the mercantile house. I know what idle men are like"; and she made a little expressive gesture with her daintily-gloved hands.

Maud said nothing, but let her sister rattle away as she would. It was always rather entertaining to hear Beatrice talk, and it did her mother good to be amused. Of course, if they would persist in misunderstanding Desmond, and making jokes about him, it was not her fault. She was the only one in the family who really appreciated him.

"I sent her the loveliest wedding present--really when the time came I took great credit to myself for making up my mind to part with it at all. Algy did grumble at the bill; but one couldn't be stingy to the bride of the only son of the house. It was the sweetest necklace of pearls you ever saw in your life. If she has a complexion she will be enchanted with them. She wrote me a very pretty letter of thanks, but I don't think she had the least idea of the value of them. I think she will turn out a dear little girl. I quite love her already. I wish I could see her now. I offered to superintend the making of the wedding dress at my own woman's; but no, the child had the exquisite innocence to prefer her own dressmaker. I fear my lady will find that she must have another wedding dress made, to face the county in, but she can find all that out for herself in time. I do not think we shall find her lacking in a species of sound common-sense."

"I sent her a dressing-bag," said Mrs. St. Claire, who was looking roused and interested, "and Maud some silver, I don't exactly remember what. Of course she will find more gifts of mine at the Chase when she gets there. Have you seen the place since it was done up for them, Beatrice? Really you ought to go; it looks charming. Desmond has been mighty particular in his orders, I can tell you. He has spent a lot of money over it, you may be sure."

"And quite right too. He has plenty, and he ought to keep up his position in the place. He cannot have spent his income these past years, and he is right in making his home comfortable before settling down. Seen it? No, how could I have seen it? I have not been in these parts for an age. Happy thought! we will drive over there this afternoon, Maud, whilst mother has her nap. I told Algy not to expect me back to lunch. We will certainly go home _viâ_ the Chase."

So after the midday meal Mrs. Vanborough's carriage was ordered, and the two sisters set off for a visit to their old home.

The Chase, though within thirty miles of the great metropolis, was still to all intents and purposes a country house. It lay in the midst of lovely scenery, not far from the valley of the Thames, was surrounded by wooded hills and running water, and formed altogether a charming retreat, despite the fact that mansions and villas showed a disposition to crop up in the vicinity, and people began to prognosticate that in the course of time the place might be much spoilt by over-building. But for the present, at least, that danger was not imminent, and in no case could the house itself suffer very much, for it was surrounded by its own small but well-wooded park, some fifty acres in extent, and nothing could be seen from the windows of the living-rooms but the gardens and grass-land and fine timber belonging to it.

The Chase was a thorough-going, old-fashioned house, such as are growing more and more scarce every year, with gable ends, twisted chimneys, and great cross-way beams let into the brickwork at intervals.

It was by no means a very grand house, as such things go in these days, for many of the rooms were low, some of the ceilings were intersected by heavy rafters, and the oak panelling, of which there was much in the house, was worm-eaten, and the carving a good deal defaced.

But for all that it was a home-like and comfortable place, deliriously quaint, and not really gloomy, although some people might be disposed to call it so.

It was the kind of house that seemed to want young life about it--children's footsteps pattering up and down the passages, children's voices babbling in the still old rooms. It was a house that would be a paradise for children, and seemed to cry out for their presence. It had been built two or three centuries back, by a remote ancestor of the St. Claires, but had passed out of their hands for many generations, and known a variety of different owners.

The father of Desmond and his sisters had started in life with the resolve to buy back the old place, and with very tolerable hopes of success. His father was then partner in a thriving mercantile house, with the prospect of soon becoming the head. In time this consummation was achieved. The business throve under the careful management of an honest and hard-headed man of business.

The son found himself a rich man whilst still comparatively young, and as he was an only child he had things all in his own hands.

The Chase was bought and restored, it was entailed in due course upon the eldest son and his eldest son, and the proprietor quitted this life when the call came with the feeling that he had at least lived to fulfil the dream of his childhood.

Into this fair inheritance young Desmond had stepped, and was about to take up his abode in the home of his childhood. As the sisters stepped across the threshold Beatrice looked round with her curious eyes, for it was many years since she had seen her old home, and she was eager to note what changes time had wrought in the place. The people who had rented it after their father's death had not been in the society affected by Beatrice after her marriage, and the tenancy had only recently expired.

"Ah, the dear old hall--that delightful square staircase--how I remember it all again! Well, really, Desmond has a very pretty taste if this decoration and furniture is his choice. That stained glass is just what was wanted to give the dim religious light one expects in such a place as this, and these skins and quaint old armour and other accessories are delightfully in keeping with the old furniture I remember so well. Were you his aide-de-camp, Maud? Really, it is quite charming. I hope the little girl will have education to appreciate it, and not hanker after apple-green hangings and magenta table-covers. Not but what gay colours are rather coming to the front once again. Well, every fashion has its day, and we are so constituted that we all rave over the newest thing out, no matter how intrinsically hideous it may be. Oh, not you, Maud; you go on in the even tenor of your way, quite superior to all the fluctuations of fashion. Gracious goodness, who are these? Surely people cannot think that the bridal couple have already arrived? Who on earth can be calling now?"

"Pray don't agitate yourself, Beatrice; it's only some of the Ritchies coming to see the house now that it's ready. I told them they might. You know they will be Odeyne's nearest neighbours, so naturally they take great interest in it all; and they were our playfellows, too, you know."

"Know--I should think I did know! My dear, it is a fact they never allow us to forget. Well, they are excellent good folks, and will doubtless suit Odeyne down to the ground. But I think if they are coming round too, I will postpone the pleasure of a thorough tour till another day. You will not mind walking back if I take the carriage home? I really think I must be getting back to Algy now."

Maud smiled, not without a touch of satire.

"Oh, by all means satisfy your wifely instincts. The walk is nothing. Don't let me stand in Algernon's way. Well, Cissy, so you have found your way up, have you? Everybody seems to choose the wedding-day to visit the house, you see."

The girl thus addressed--a maiden with a demure little face and a pair of merry, saucy-looking eyes, generally hidden beneath very long black lashes--came towards the sisters with outstretched hand. She was followed by a pair of brothers, both tall and well-grown, but without any great share of external finish of manner. The trio were the children of the doctor of the place, and the sons, who had both elected to follow their father's profession, had been mainly brought up at home, only leaving Harlington for the necessary hospital work prior to examination. Cuthbert was by this time his father's junior partner, whilst Tom was still studying and not yet qualified. Both young men had the reputation of being very clever; but talent without grace and finish of manner had no attractions for Mrs. Vanborough, and she openly avowed that the Ritchies bored her to the verge of distraction.

But there was nothing of this to be detected in the greeting which she bestowed on the young girl and her two brothers. Beatrice was far too much the accomplished woman of the world to be betrayed into the least _gaucherie_ or want of manner. She listened to Cissy's outspoken raptures with the pleasantest possible of smiles.

"It is perfectly lovely. I never saw anything more delicious. How your little boy will like playing here, Beatrice! It is such a perfect house for children. How well I remember the romps we had all together here long ago!"

Beatrice gave the least little look of amusement at her sister out of the corner of her eyes, as she answered with admirable cordiality--

"Ah, perhaps he will; I had not thought of that. He is scarcely of an age to discriminate much as to his surroundings."

"Oh, I don't know. I think children are much more discriminating than people think, and notice much more too. I know we all did----"

But Beatrice was already on the way to her carriage, making gracious little farewell gestures as she moved.

To hear Cissy Ritchie's raptures or theories upon children was a little too much. She felt she must escape at all costs.

If there was one thing that bored her more than another it was to be expected to give an account of the perfections of her handsome, sturdy, year-old son. In her own way she was fond and proud of him, but to get up any kind of enthusiasm about him was a thing she had declined from the first.

Possibly her absence was a relief to the rest. Mrs. Vanborough, with her rustling silk, her elegance, and her vivid personality, had a way of being a trifle overpowering; perhaps this was what she desired in certain circumstances.

At any rate, after she was gone Cissy grew more confidential and eager, whilst "the boys," as it was the fashion to call the doctor's two tall sons, seemed to come out of their shell of reserve, and looked, in consequence, less awkward and shy.

"I can't think how you could keep away, Maud. I should have been dying of curiosity to see her."

"Ah, that is a complaint of which you die daily," interpolated Tom in his dry way; "Maud knows better."

"Are you not in a dreadful hurry to see her? I don't know how I should ever endure to let one of the boys marry a girl I had never seen. Tom, why do you laugh? You might do such a thing, you know. You are a dreadful boy for keeping a secret. Nobody can find out if you don't mean them to."

"Well, I am glad to hear that at any rate. I will take a leaf out of Desmond's book one of these days, and bring you home a stranger for a sister. I should like to see the meeting."

"It would not be interesting," said Cuthbert. "Cissy would run into her arms and swear an eternal sisterhood on the spot. Cissy has the good old-fashioned family feeling finely developed. A relation is a relation, to be swallowed whole without the least reservation. That is the advantage of having Scotch blood in our veins. We can take to anyone who bears our name."

Whilst the boys rattled on in the half-nonsensical, half-speculative way characteristic more or less of the whole family, Cissy stole a furtive glance at Maud, as if to see how she was feeling on the subject--whether she was prepared to take the new sister in this unquestioning fashion. Perhaps Cissy's quick sympathies gave her a greater insight into Maud's nature than most people possessed, and enabled her to guess that the marriage of her brother was not a source of unmixed pleasure to her. Truth to tell, Maud was not a little disappointed at the turn matters had taken. She had never fancied that Desmond would settle down to matrimony in his early manhood, and she had indulged bright dreams of what life would be like at the Chase, with Desmond the master and she his housekeeper and companion.

The girl had a love of power, as well as a passionate attachment to her old home; and the news that her brother was engaged to a stranger, of whom they knew nothing, brought with it a sense of disappointment none the less keen because borne in utter silence. And Cissy guessed at the existence of some such feeling, though she was far too shrewd and tactful to betray any such knowledge, and so, as they made the tour of the house together, Maud found something soothing in her presence, and was glad to let her talk and indulge pleasant little fancies about the coming bride, and the pleasure it would be to both her and Desmond to have a sister so near at hand.

Somehow, with Cissy at her side, Maud felt that it would not be hard to love that new sister, and give her the welcome that would seal their friendship at once; but when she was left alone in the shadowy house, with the ghosts of departed fancies lingering all around, and the sunny influence of a truly warm heart removed, then the old soreness, akin to jealousy, came creeping back, and with it a miserable feeling of antagonism towards the woman who had come between her brother and herself.

"I shall never care for her, I know I never shall, and that will make it all the worse, because Desmond will be angry--he will never understand. Besides, why should he? He never loved me as I loved him. He would say that we were very good friends, and nothing more. It is always the way with women, I suppose--some women, at any rate--to give their all, and get nothing, or almost nothing, in return. Well, I suppose I can bear it as well as anyone else; but oh, Desmond, do not ask too much--do not expect me to love your wife for your sake."

But though Maud was thus open with herself she might not quite have liked to hear the remark made by Tom Ritchie as the brothers and sisters turned homewards again.

"It strikes me," said that astute young man, "that however much in love Mrs. Desmond St. Claire may be with her husband, and however happy they are, and will be, together, that she will have rather a rough time of it with Desmond's relations."