'You must be on your guard,' continued the other, with exasperating pertinacity; 'he is very unprincipled.'

'I know he is very agreeable,' cried Maud; 'unprincipled! what do you mean by that?'

'I mean--I mean,' said the other, 'that he is dangerous--just the sort of man to try to kiss you, if you gave him the chance.'

'Indeed?' cried Maud, by this time in far too great a pa.s.sion to be either courteous or discreet, 'I should think none the worse of him for that. _I believe they all would!_' Having delivered this parting shot, Maud hurried away in a great state of agitation, and Mrs. Fotheringham shrugged her shoulders in despair at so unseemly an outburst of temper, so awful a view of human nature.

When they got home that night Maud told Mrs. Vereker her troubles, and was relieved to find what slight importance she attached to them. She burst out laughing, and clapped her hands in delight at Maud's account of the encounter with Mrs. Fotheringham. 'But, my dear child, what induced you to make such a foolish speech? And as for Mr. Boldero, he wanted you himself, don't you understand? Flirt a little with _him_ to-morrow and see how much he will want to lecture you then.'

'But he won't flirt with me,' said Maud; 'it is very odd. Besides, I was in a pa.s.sion, and told him never to speak to me again. Poor fellow!'

'You dear little goose!' Mrs. Vereker said, kissing her, 'sit down this instant and write and tell him you are broken-hearted for being so rude, and that he is to come to lunch and finish his lecture to-morrow. You must not quarrel with all the world at once.'

Of Felicia's letter Mrs. Vereker equally made light. 'She means nothing, my dear, except what I preach to you and practise myself, discretion and moderation. So many dances in the evening, so many rides in the week, so many lunches, so many looks, so many smiles, and so forth. Besides, you know, Mrs. Vernon is a prude, a born prude; she breathes a congenial atmosphere of proprieties where I should be suffocated. She likes men to be polite, and only polite; I take them up where politeness ends and something else begins. She likes small-beer; I happen to prefer champagne, bright, sparkling and intoxicatingly delicious! Besides,'

rattled on Mrs. Vereker, quite at ease with a familiar topic, 'Mrs.

Vernon is a flirt too, in her prudish way. She flirts, she used to flirt with your husband scandalously, I hope he behaves better now. Mine is a monster, and makes me cry my eyes out. But, I tell you what, my dear Maud, there is great safety in numbers. Don't speak to that saucy Desvoeux for a fortnight, and turn your pretty eyes on some one else, the first you fancy. Would you like my General? or Parson Boldero? Take him in hand, my dear, and in a week we will make the horrid fellow flirt just as much as his neighbours.'

'He's a very bad hand at it at present,' said Maud, with a laugh.

However, the result of the conference was that Maud sat down and wrote a pretty little repentant note: and the next day Boldero came with a beating heart and took the little scapegrace for a ride, and scolded her very affectionately, much to his own satisfaction, through a whole pleasant summer afternoon.

CHAPTER x.x.xVI.

A KISS.

As she sped fast through sun and shade The happy winds upon her played, Blowing the ringlets from the braid; She looked so lovely as she swayed The rein with dainty finger-tips.

A man had given all other bliss And all his worldly worth for this: To waste his whole heart in one kiss Upon her perfect lips.

When Mrs. Vereker suggested Desvoeux's temporary deposition, she overlooked two obstacles which proved fatal to the scheme's success: in the first place, Maud did not quite wish to depose him; in the next, Desvoeux had not the slightest intention of being deposed. Despite all hints to stay away, he presented himself with provoking regularity at Mrs. Vereker's cottage-porch, outstayed later callers without the least compunction, and evidently felt himself quite master of the situation.

At Maud's first symptom of neglect he was more devoted, more a.s.siduous, more amusing than ever. Both ladies were constrained in their hearts to admit that his presence was a great enlivenment. Maud, though she would not have admitted it to herself, felt sometimes impatient for his arrival. She had given Desvoeux to understand that his attentions were unwelcome, but she had not the least wish that he should become inattentive. As the French song says--

Lorsque l'on dit, 'Ne m'aimez plus jamais,'

On pretend bien qu'on obeira, mais On compte un peu sur des revoltes.

So Maud, when she tried to keep Desvoeux at a distance, probably only made it apparent how much she liked him to be near; at any rate, the attempt at a little quarrel had only the result of making them better friends than before. Then there was a sort of familiarity about him which Maud was conscious of only half-disliking. Mrs. Vereker declared she had not breathed a word; but something in his look, when he spoke of Mrs. Fotheringham, convinced Maud that he had heard of her unlucky speech to that lady. When she rode with some one else she was sure to meet him, looking the picture of dulness. She knew that if they had been together they would be both having the greatest fun. And then how flat and what a bore her own companion seemed! One day she did actually go for a ride with General Beau. Mrs. Vereker asked him afterwards how they had got on, and the General arched his brow and said, 'Ah!' in a manner which suggested that he had not altogether liked it. Then, one day, in a pet, Maud went out alone, saying, 'No one can find fault with me for _this_.' Alas! alas! she was sauntering along in the most disconsolate manner, when, round a corner of the hill, who should come sauntering along but Desvoeux, also alone and disconsolate and in the direst need of a companion! Of course under such circ.u.mstances there was nothing to be done but for Desvoeux to turn his pony round and accompany her for the rest of the expedition; and then, no sooner had they done this, than, as bad luck would have it, they came upon all the people whom they particularly did not wish to meet--first the Fotheringhams, the mamma and two young ladies in palanquins, a nice young civilian escorting each; Fotheringham _pere_ on his pony, bringing up the rear--in order, as Desvoeux said scornfully, to cut off retreat if the young men's hearts failed them.

'If that is courtship _a la mode_,' he said, 'Heaven preserve us! Fancy four parental eyes glaring at every act! My love is a sensitive plant and would shrink up at every look.'

Maud, however, felt that it was no joke, and was very much provoked with Desvoeux. She was in the act of turning back to join the Fotheringhams.

'Don't, pray don't,' said Desvoeux; '_qui s'excuse s'accuse_. Why don't the two young gentlemen come and ask to be allowed to walk with us and be taken care of? If only we could _afficher_

"MET BY ACCIDENT, UPON OUR HONOUR"

on our backs, and let all the world know how innocent we really are!'

And next, before Maud had at all recovered her equanimity, a turn in the road brought them face to face with all the Government House party--ladies and ponies and aides-de-camp in attendance, and, last of all, the Viceroy himself, with a big stick and wide-awake hat. 'Ah! how d'ye do, Mrs. Sutton?' he said, looking, Maud fancied, not near so good-humoured as of old and taking no notice of Desvoeux; 'I hope you have good accounts of your husband?'

'Yes, very good, thank you, Lord Clare,' Maud said, blushing at a question which seemed to convey a reproach to her guilty conscience, and at the thought of how little her husband had been present to her mind of late. Altogether, Maud's attempt at a solitary ride turned out a thorough failure.

Then came the picnic, and Maud, it must be confessed, behaved like a little idiot.

'The best way to treat gossip,' Desvoeux suggested, 'is to ignore it and show the world that you have nothing to be ashamed of.' By way of enforcing his doctrine he proceeded to monopolise her in the most outrageous manner; nor did she refuse to be monopolised. When other people came and tried to talk to her Desvoeux stood by and contrived to make them feel themselves _de trop_. He put poor Boldero, who flattered himself that his afternoon's sermon was to bear good fruit, utterly to the rout; insulted General Beau by some absurd question about the Carraway Islands; put all the aides-de-camp to flight; and, even when the Viceroy came by and stopped to speak to Maud, seemed to consider it a very great intrusion.

'Really, Mr. Desvoeux,' Maud said, with a laugh, 'you give yourself all the airs of a jealous husband.'

'I only wish,' said her companion, 'you had ever given me the chance of being one. But don't these people bore one? I don't feel a bit inclined to-day to be bored.'

'No more do I,' said Maud, 'but I feel very cross with you all the same.

Let us go and sit by the Fotheringhams.'

'Please do not,' said Desvoeux; 'here is a delightful nook, with a smooth stone for your table, and the stream making too much noise for any one to overhear us. It was evidently intended for you and me.'

So all the world had the opportunity, at lunch, of witnessing Desvoeux in the act of adoration; and Desvoeux, if he would let no one else have a chance of talking, had, Maud felt, plenty to say himself. It was indiscreet, but very pleasant. Even Mrs. Vereker grew alarmed, and making an excuse to pa.s.s close by them, came and whispered in Maud's ear a solemn 'Don't!'

'Don't what?' said Maud in ill-affected wonderment.

'Don't be a goose,' said her companion; 'Mr. Desvoeux, would you be good-natured and go and fetch me some ice-pudding, while I sit and talk to Mrs. Sutton?'

'With pleasure,' said Desvoeux, smothering his resentment as best he could; 'but where am I to sit when I come back?'

'You need not come back for half-an-hour,' said Mrs. Vereker quietly; 'go and talk with some one else. I see I must keep you young people both in order.'

Desvoeux went off in dudgeon, and Mrs. Vereker lost no time in supplying his place. 'Ah, Mr. Boldero!' she said, 'come and be amusing, please, and give us the latest news from Dustypore.'

For once in his life Boldero thought Mrs. Vereker very nice.

'Be amusing!' thought Maud; 'why does not she ask him to fly to the moon at once? Only Mr. Desvoeux can be that.'

And so it proved. Even Mrs. Vereker could not make conversation go.

Boldero was stiff, uncordial and ill at ease. Maud was vexed, and did not care to conceal it. It was a relief when General Beau appeared, and Maud, in a pet, asked him to take her to the waterfall.

The General, who had been intending to perform the pilgrimage with Mrs.

Vereker, did not betray that he was disconcerted, and professed his delight at the suggestion.

'But,' said Maud, 'can we trust those two naughty people together? My dear Mrs. Vereker, "Don't!"'

'Is not she growing saucy?' Mrs. Vereker said to Boldero; 'it is all your fault; all you gentlemen conspire to spoil her.'

'No,' said Boldero,'begging your pardon, it is all your fault. You let one of us have it all his own way. You encourage him to flirt, and encourage her to encourage him. It is a shame, Mrs. Vereker; in another fortnight her reputation will be gone.'

'Fiddlededee!' cried Mrs. Vereker. 'See what jealousy will do! You might as well accuse me of flirting with you, and every one knows that I am a saint.'