CHAPTER VI.

TWO SERPENTS.

I do not think that if Tessie and Ange had foreseen that the presence of Mr. Charteris under their father’s roof was to entail a series of visits from Miss Sophy Markham, they would have rejoiced so greatly at the acquisition of their boarder. But she certainly lost no time in paying the preliminary one. As I descended to breakfast the following morning, I was surprised to hear her shrill voice from the _salle_, and stopped midway in my journey to demand of Madame Marmoret in the kitchen if it were possible that I heard aright.

Madame Marmoret, with her head tied up in a red handkerchief and gold earrings dangling from her ears, looked like a picturesque and pleased old gipsy.

‘For certain it is she,’ was her reply, ‘and why not? _Ma foi!_ one would think, to see your surprise, that eight o’clock was an unheard-of hour to get out of bed. It may be the custom in England, but for St. Pucelle, thanks to the Blessed Virgin and the good Abbé, who teaches us better, we do not waste the precious time here, when it is running on so fast to carry us to our graves.’

It was very strange to me that Madame Marmoret, who as a rule hated all the English visitors to St. Pucelle, was never heard to speak ill of Miss Sophia Markham, who was the most offensive of them all!

Was it possible she could imagine her old master would be so foolish as to think of taking a second wife from amongst the surplus female population of Great Britain; he whose habits and associations were so thoroughly naturalised to the country of his adoption, and who was too poor even to support his daughters and himself? Well, there were no limits to be put to the folly of men, young or old, in that respect; but I trusted from the bottom of my heart, for the girls’ sakes, that it was not true. The mere supposition, though, made Miss Markham’s voice sound more screechy and silly than usual, as I continued on my way to the _salle_. There she sat, in her walking things, a little apart from the table, evidently waiting till the meal should be concluded, to carry out the design that brought her there.

Mr. Charteris jumped up from his seat as soon as I appeared, all smiles, bustle, and animation, and set a chair for me in my own place.

I was so glad it should be so; that the remembrance of anything in our former intimacy that was likely to make us feel uncomfortable in the present seemed so completely to have escaped his memory, and left him free as myself to exchange the courtesies of a new acquaintanceship.

Of course my first duty was to say good-morning to Miss Markham, which was returned apparently with much fervour. There had never been any open hostilities between this lady and myself. On the contrary, we were invariably most polite to one another; nevertheless there existed a secret feud between us, which, like a smouldering fire, only required the breath of opportunity to fan into a flame. She knew, although I had never said so, that I ridiculed her silly conceit, and despised her falsehood, and she never felt quite easy in consequence when in my presence.

On the morning in question, I disturbed her in the midst of an animated conversation with Mr. Charteris, which had set the cherries in her hat in violent commotion, which had not quite subsided when a shake from my hand made them begin bobbing again.

‘Miss Marsh the latest of the party!’ she commenced, with an affected giggle; ‘why, I’m quite astonished! I thought you were the “goody-goody” one that always set an example for the rest!’

‘I’m not aware that I have ever given the world of St. Pucelle reason to make such an assertion, Miss Markham,’ I said, as I drew my chair to the breakfast-table and applied my attention to bread and butter and radishes.

‘Well! I’m sure Mrs. Carolus thinks so, or she would not be so constantly seeking for your company. _I’m_ not good enough for her, not half. She’s so afraid I shall corrupt Willy. He! he! he! She says I have too many admirers to be a safe companion. Now, Mr. Charteris, _do_ you think I’ve got too many admirers?’

‘A great many too many, Miss Markham, for the peace of one!’

‘He, he, he! Well, I can’t help it if the men _will_ come after me, can I? I can’t get a little whip and whip them away! It was always the same ever since I was a little girl. I don’t know what it is in me, but they _will_ come!’

‘It is very easy to see what it is that attracts them, Miss Markham,’ said Charteris, with a side-glance at Ange that made the poor child choke over her _tartine_.

‘Oh!’ cried Miss Sophy, with a conscious look that went first down and then up, and was accompanied by a titter; ‘you’re too bad, Mr. Charteris! you really are! but you’re just like the rest of them. That is what makes Mrs. Carolus so jealous of me! She will tease me to tell her what gentlemen say to me, and then—when I do—oh, goodness! She does give it to us—doesn’t she, Tiddywinks?’ to the yapping terrier which she carried as usual under her arm.

‘You have to pay the penalty of being so fascinating,’ remarked Charteris, who seemed to be the only one disposed to talk to her. ‘Everybody knows what a terrible list of killed and wounded you leave behind you wherever you go. Look at poor young Thrale! You’ve “mashed” him entirely, as the young ladies in America say.’

‘Mr. Charteris! How _can_ you? What dreadful nonsense you are talking! As if Arthur Thrale could ever be anything to me but a friend!’

‘I should think no one in their senses could dream of imagining otherwise,’ I interposed, rather too bluntly perhaps. ‘Why, Arthur Thrale is not more than twenty, is he?’

‘I’m sure I don’t know what age he is,’ replied Miss Sophy, rather crossly—the topic didn’t please her—‘I never ask gentlemen their ages, and it has nothing whatever to do with the point in question.’

‘When had Love anything to do with Age?’ said Mr. Charteris, still laughing at her, though she could not see it. ‘Young as poor Thrale is, you know that you have made him your slave. Why do you suppose he intends to join the boar-hunt to-day, unless it be to hear his prowess sounded in your ears?’

‘Don’t you think it would be kinder to persuade him not to go, Mr. Charteris,’ I observed, ‘since I understand that his prowess is more likely to land him on the ground than anywhere else? He is an only son, you know, and if anything were to happen to him, it would doubtless cause great distress to his family.’

‘Are you acquainted with the Thrales, Hilda?’ asked Mr. Lovett, in surprise.

‘No, sir, not personally; but Mrs. Carolus has received a letter from Mr. Thrale’s mother in England, begging her to look after her son as much as possible whilst he is here, and she repeated the contents of it to me.’

At these words, two of our little party grew considerably rosier; one was Miss Sophia Markham, the other my reverend and saintly guardian.

‘It strikes me as a very extraordinary proceeding,’ ejaculated the lady, ‘that Mrs. Carolus should go about St. Pucelle confiding the contents of her private letters to people who are almost strangers to her.’

‘Most remarkable!’ acquiesced Mr. Lovett; ‘and I should have thought that had Mrs. Carolus required an adviser on the subject, the pastor of her church would have been the properest person for her to confide in.’

‘Do you doubt my word, then?’ I asked him quickly.

‘Oh no, my dear Hilda! by no manner of means. If I am disposed to blame any one, it is Mrs. Carolus. Will you tell us what the rest of the letter contained?’

‘No, sir; I would rather not. It was told me privately, if not as a secret; but if you will ask Mrs. Carolus herself, I have no doubt she will hand the epistle over to you.’

‘Well, I never heard of such a thing before!’ exclaimed Miss Markham, tossing her head; ‘and it only convinces me of what I have known all along—that Mrs. Carolus is as mean as she is spiteful. She can repeat tales against other people, but she would be very much surprised if other people commenced to tell tales against her. I have held my tongue, of course, because I have made it a rule through life never to say a word against another woman’s character, but I could tell stories, if I chose, that would shut every door in St. Pucelle against Mrs. Carolus to-morrow, and make the few hairs that poor old fool of a husband of hers still possesses stand on end with horror!’

‘_I_ never said she had repeated tales against any one,’ I remarked quietly; ‘but I conclude from your observations that you have read the letter yourself, Miss Markham.’

She coloured still deeper at this insinuation, but she was not to be caught by it. She was an old war-horse, and had been in battle too often to lose her vantage-ground so easily.

‘No, I have not!’ she said as stoutly as if she were speaking the truth. ‘I receive too many letters of my own to have any time to spare for Mrs. Carolus’s rubbish. But, knowing her as well as I do, I am perfectly aware that she is not likely to exchange ten minutes’ conversation with any woman without trying to damage the reputation of another.’

I felt this conclusion to be so true that I had nothing to say in reply, and, the meal being ended, Mr. Lovett proposed they should walk towards the Château des Roses, where the meet for the boar-hunt was to take place.

‘Are you really going to walk up the hill?’ cried Miss Sophy, with sudden animation, as though the thought had never struck her before. ‘Then I shall walk with you—that is,’ with an arch look at Charteris, ‘if you will consent to be troubled with a stupid thing like me. I love a brisk walk in the morning. There is nothing like it for health. I always go on principle; and as for Tiddy boy, he couldn’t eat his dinner if he hadn’t a run first. Could you, my Sweetikins?’

Sweetikins and Mr. Charteris and Mr. Lovett having simultaneously declared that there was nothing they would enjoy so much as the company of the fair Sophia, they all set off together to walk up the hill, whilst Tessie and Ange looked after them from the window with wistful eyes. I thought how they would have enjoyed to see the hunting-party start; how Tessie would have admired her Baron on horseback, and little Ange would have been pleased with everything; and I asked them why they had not also proposed to accompany their father.

‘Oh no!’ said Tessie, almost shrinking at the idea. ‘Papa would have mentioned it if he had wished us to go. Besides, we have so many things to keep us at home. We are not idle people like Sophy Markham. Didn’t she go on in a horrid manner with Mr. Charteris, Hilda, shaking her head at him in that absurd way? I felt so ashamed of her.’

‘He doesn’t like it; that’s one comfort!’ observed Ange, over her shoulder.

‘No, I should hope he had better taste, or he would hardly be pleasant company for us,’ I responded heartily.

I had done with him myself, but it would have been a step lower to take in humiliation, to have watched him in an earnest flirtation with such a battered heart as that of Miss Sophy Markham.

‘I do not think Mr. Charteris is the sort of man that either of you will make a _friend_ of; but the acquaintanceship even of one who brought Miss Markham in his train would not be calculated to render our home more comfortable.’

The girls both looked startled at my assertion.

‘Not make a friend of, Hilda?’ repeated Tessie; ‘isn’t he _nice_, then?’

‘Very nice, dear, as far I know; but for friendship you want something more than “_niceness_.” You want sympathy in taste and feeling; and I fancy Mr. Charteris is too much addicted to field-sports to make a good companion for women. Arthur Thrale is more fitted for such a capacity.’

‘_Arthur Thrale!_’ ejaculated Ange with glorious contempt, as she slipped away in answer to a loud demand for her in Madame’s sweet voice.

‘Hilda,’ said Tessie, coming closer to my side, ‘what was it that Arthur’s mother wrote to Mrs. Carolus about? Was it—of—of—what we were speaking last night?’

‘Not exactly, Tessie ; but I much fear it has something to do with it. It concerned a loss of money on the boy’s part.’

‘Oh, what _shall_ we do? what _shall_ we do?’

I had never heard such a tone of despair in Tessie’s quiet voice before, and when I turned to look at her the tears had gathered in her eyes again, and her face was drawn with anxiety and pain.

‘Don’t cry, Tessie,’ I said, kissing her—‘it is no fault of yours; and if boys will be foolish, they must pay the penalty. However, I mean to——’

‘My dear Miss Lovett, I hope I am not interrupting you!’ exclaimed the voice of Mrs. Carolus, at the open door; ‘if so I will go back at once: indeed, I told my Willy I should not be absent more than ten minutes, but I just wanted to ask the question, have you seen Sophy Markham anywhere this morning?’

I had started forward to receive our visitor, and give Tessie time to dry her eyes, or the intelligence that she had been crying would have been communicated to the whole of St. Pucelle before sunset. I felt more kindly towards Mrs. Carolus also than to Miss Markham, because, although they were equally ill-natured to the world, the one had been more friendly to me than the other.

‘Yes! Miss Markham has but just left us,’ I replied. ‘She was here before breakfast, and went up the hill directly afterwards with——’

‘Not with Mr. Charteris?’ exclaimed Mrs. Carolus, as she clasped her hands and sunk into a chair.

‘Yes, with Mr. Charteris and Mr. Lovett!’ I replied, unable to help laughing at the tragic attitude she had assumed.

‘Oh, Miss Marsh, it is too bad! it is too bad of her altogether! I cast her off from to-day. I refuse to have anything more to do with her! She is not a respectable person to be associated with, nor to have living in one’s house.’

‘I think you are rather hard on her, Mrs. Carolus. She is very silly, I know, but you need have no fear that Mr. Charteris will do more than laugh at her! Indeed, I am afraid he was laughing at her all breakfast-time, but she did not seem to see it.’

‘She never sees anything, my dear. She is eaten up with self-conceit, and if the whole world bowed down before her in mock homage she would take it for real, and accept it as her due. She fancies she is a giddy little butterfly, and that gentlemen admire her childish voice and ways, and are attracted by them. She would no more believe that they ridicule her afterwards than that they imagine her to be more than five-and-twenty! It is the _truth_, my dear girls. If I had to die the next moment, I should say the same thing. She actually had the audacity to tell me last week that Mr. Charteris had guessed her age at five-and-twenty. And she is five-and-fifty if she is a day!’

Tessie and I both laughed so immoderately at this, that we encouraged Mrs. Carolus to proceed with her complaints.

‘When she came and told me that she had seen Mr. Charteris at Rille, and persuaded him to come to St. Pucelle, I looked her in the face and said solemnly: “Sophia Markham, can you assure me that if that young man comes here you will not carry on with him in the disgraceful way you did last year at Brussels, because, if so,” I said, “tell me at once, and I will leave the place before shame drives me from it.” For if you could have seen, my dears, the things that went on between those two, you would have been as disgusted as I was.’

‘Come, Mrs. Carolus!’ I deprecated, ‘you are taking away Mr. Charteris’s character now, remember, as well as that of your friend.’

‘Oh! my dear, it wasn’t _his_ fault! Poor fellow, what could he do with a woman running after him morning, noon, and night, and dodging him wherever he went? His life was a martyrdom to him. But where Sophia takes a fancy she has no mercy!’

‘This becomes serious!’ I replied, with mock gravity; ‘what shall we do to save him?’

‘Nothing will save him,’ said Mrs. Carolus, seriously. ‘Who is to control a woman of that age? I cannot do it! And fancy her having the forwardness to attack him the very first morning. She would have come round last night if she had dared. But, bless my soul! isn’t that Sophy herself coming down the hill? So it is. The hunting-party must have started, then; she wouldn’t leave them one moment sooner, you may take my word for that! Oh! she has caught my eye, I _must_ nod to her. She has the most suspicious temper in the world, and would be sure to think, if she saw me here, that I had come up expressly to abuse her. Ah! now she must come in, of course, and I shall be obliged to walk through the town with her while she makes herself conspicuous at every step. Well, Sophy dear, have you enjoyed your walk?’

To hear these two women abuse each other when apart, and to see the marvellous transformation that took place in their speech, manner, and expression, as soon as they found themselves together again, was to witness one of the most curious phases of this world’s deceit.

‘Sophy dear’ bent down and kissed Mrs. Carolus’s cheek before she answered:

‘Pretty well! I wish you had been with us, Lizzie! Monsieur de Nesselrode looked so graceful on horseback! and _your_ flame Charteris has a seat like a centaur. I really think the horse Despard has sent him would throw any ordinary rider.’

‘_My_ flame! You wretch!’ cried the married lady, with girlish indignation, as she made a playful poke at Miss Sophy with her parasol. ‘I wonder what my Willy would say, to hear you talk like that. And when I have just been telling Miss Marsh and Miss Lovett how you ran away from us before breakfast this morning, in order to see the gentlemen start!’

‘I didn’t do any such thing,’ responded her friend. ‘You are such lazy creatures, I should get no breakfast till ten o’clock if I waited for you. And it was really incumbent on me to be home again somewhat early this morning, Lizzie; for I must alter that new costume of yours before you wear it again. It is crooked in the back, and makes your nice straight figure look quite like that of an old woman.’

‘Thanks, dear! You don’t know what a clever creature this is, Miss Marsh! She makes all her own dresses and bonnets and mantles; and she has been so good-natured, since she has been staying with me, in altering and manufacturing my wardrobe, that I am sure I don’t know what I shall do when she is gone.’

‘Perhaps I don’t mean to go,’ said Miss Markham, facetiously.

‘You droll creature! Not if some one of your numerous admirers proposes to carry you off?’

‘Ah, that would be a different thing. But if I married to-day,’ continued Miss Sophy, with the confidence in marriage of eighteen, ‘you would send back for me to-morrow!’

‘Did you ever hear such impudence!’ cried Mrs. Carolus, appealing to us. ‘She actually imagines I couldn’t do without her! Well, Sophy, in that case, I suppose I should have to give house-room to _il caro sposo_ as well.’

‘I rather fancy you would! Do you think I should come without him? I shall make much too great a pet of my husband for that.’

‘Well, he’ll be a lucky fellow, whoever he is, when the day comes,’ responded Mrs. Carolus.

Tessie and I, listening open-mouthed to this extraordinary example of feminine friendship, could not but believe that the last sentence at least was intended for sarcasm. But if so, no inflection of the speaker’s voice betrayed it. The words left her lips as glibly as though she were sounding the praises of her dearest friend.

I turned away, sick at this exhibition of deceit, and thinking what mischief it was _not_ in the power of such women to create, who could lie with impunity, not only to each other but themselves. I stood there, silent and thoughtful, until, to my relief, I heard their voices in chorus, declaring it was time to go.

‘Good-bye, Miss Marsh! Good-bye, Miss Lovett! Come, Sophy dear,’ said Mrs. Carolus, blithely.

‘All right, Lizzie dear,’ replied the other. ‘Ta-ta, girls! I dare say I shall see you again before long;’ and so they interlinked arms, and went down the road together lovingly.

Tessie and I turned and looked into each other’s faces.

‘Is it not sickening?’ I asked her, after a pause.

‘It frightens me,’ she answered; and as I saw her pale face and lips, I believed that the insight she had experienced to falsehood had really caused her fear.

[Illustration: [Fleuron]]