Lippa scarcely took in what the ancestral home of the Dadfords was like, when she arrived last night, but waking early she dresses hastily in order to survey the surrounding country, an outing before breakfast she delights in, when all the world seems fresh and clean, and the humdrum business of life is barely begun.

Pa.s.sing down the wide oak staircase she comes across a friendly housemaid who shows her the way through a conservatory to the garden, such a lovely garden it is, with its broad walks, its green velvety lawns and slopes, and its ma.s.ses of old-fashioned dew beladen flowers, the perfume of which fills the morning air. Her spirits rise as she wanders on, drinking in with delight the surrounding beauty, so absorbed is she in it that she forgets there is such a person as Jimmy Dalrymple. Quack, quack, quack, go the ducks as she approaches the lake on which they disport themselves, and gazes down at the sky therein reflected and at her own image. But she is not admiring her youthful face and the curly golden hair that stands like a halo round it. No, she is sunk in a dream; the morning has called forth her greatest aspirations; the striving after the unattainable; that comes to us all sometime or other, when we feel that truly life is worth living, and that there is something beyond, so great that we cannot grasp it, but we feel it is there producing a great speechless longing within us while our hearts throb and our pulses stir till we could cry for joy.

Such a state as this Lippa has reached, when she is suddenly brought down from the elevated height to which her mind has soared, to the outward circ.u.mstances of life, by the squeaking of a window which is suddenly opened; she is so close to the house, that on looking up she recognises the brown head that is thrust out for a moment. 'Tis enough; the spell has been broken and she becomes aware that breakfast would be a very acceptable thing, so she wends her way back to the house. Of course everyone is full of the cattle show and the merits of Herefords, short horns, Devons and Kerrys are discussed together with Jersey creamers and separators. Most of the guests are old and uninteresting, and intend leaving on the following day to make room for the younger folk who can dance.

Dalrymple and Philippa are the only young people at present, besides, of course, Lady Anne and Chubby.

'I've ordered the dog-cart,' says the latter, in the course of breakfast, to Lippa, who is sitting next him, 'because I thought we might leave the old people to go by themselves. I've got an awfully good animal, which I should like you to see, what! My sister and Dalrymple will come too, and we can go where we please. That is to say unless, perhaps, you would prefer to drive in state in the landau. What!'

'No, indeed,' says Lippa, laughing.

'You're wise, I think,' replies Lord Helmdon. 'You don't know what my respected parent is like at a show, everything must be commented upon. I went with him once,--didn't get away for hours, and I said to myself--never again. By ourselves we can come and go just as we please.

By-the-bye, mother,' he goes on, turning to Lady Dadford, 'I suppose you've asked the Lippingcotts to the ball. I met him yesterday, but he didn't say anything about it, eh what!'

'I really don't remember; have we, Anne?' says her ladyship.

Lady Anne produces a piece of paper whereon the names of the invited guests are inscribed, glances down it, and says 'No.'

'How dreadful.'

'It's a pity,' says Anne.

'Not too late yet,' suggests Chubby. 'Little Mrs Lippingcott is so awfully pretty and dances quite beautifully. It would be a shame if she wasn't asked.'

'Well; I will write now if you like,' says his mother, ready to do anything her 'dear' boy wishes. 'They only came back a week ago, I suppose, that is how they were forgotten.'

'And if I see them I'll say something pretty that will make up, what!'

'Do you really think you could?' says Dalrymple, from the other side of the table.

'Don't doubt it for a moment,' replies Chubby, 'Miss Seaton I know will verify my statement.'

When all the older folk have been packed off, the dog-cart appears and with it the 'awfully good animal,' which of course has to be admired, and viewed from all points, before the owner sees fit to start. Lippa, of course, has the place of honour, by the driver, much to Jimmy's disgust. There is no need to go into details of the show, all of which are more or less alike, with dogs of all sizes and breeds, barking in different keys, pigs grunting and squeaking, horses neighing, cows mooing, c.o.c.ks crowing, ducks quacking; boys yelling out the price of catalogues, men requesting people to 'walk up,' and inspect their wares, which are all warranted to be the very best of their kind; and besides all this two bra.s.s bands which play two different tunes at the same time. If a deaf man suddenly recovered his hearing at a cattle show, I am sure he would wish himself deaf again. However, some people enjoy cattle shows, I do not, but that is neither here nor there.

Lord Dadford, J.P. for the county and owner of some fine short horns, is surrounded by gaitered and pot-hatted men, who all appear to be talking at once. Helmdon conducting Philippa and his sister with the ever constant Jimmy, carefully fights shy of his father.

'What luck to have met you,' he exclaims as they run up against a pretty woman, Mrs Lippingcott of course, and forthwith they launch into an eager conversation with humble apologies from him and earnest entreaties that she will grace the ball with her appearance, and with any one who may be staying with her.

'Oh, how do you do, Miss Seaton?' makes Lippa turn, who is in earnest conversation with Dalrymple, and see Harkness standing before her. She would have liked to give vent to a naughty little expression, but she merely bows saying--

'I had no idea of meeting you here, isn't it a lovely day?'

'Beautiful,' he replies, 'I am stopping with the Lippingcotts for a few days; really the country is quite delightful after London.'

'Delicious,' replies Lippa, moving on leaving Harkness gazing at her and Dalrymple; is that young beggar going to cut him out, it looks uncommonly like it. Lucky fellow he is, thinks the Captain, winning over that race last month when the odds were dead against him, and now--

'Thank goodness!' e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.es Miss Seaton, finding herself free from her admirer.

'What for?' asks Dalrymple.

'Why, to get rid of him of course.'

'Poor man,' says Jimmy pensively.

'Wherefore?'

'Because he has evidently incurred your displeasure.'

'Oh,' with a little laugh, 'is my displeasure such a very dreadful thing.'

'It would be to me,' is the reply.

'Well, if you're very good, I will try and be pleased with you, it might be unpleasant if we--'

'Will it require a great deal of trying?'

'That depends,' says Miss Seaton, glancing up in his face, to find he is looking at her rather more earnestly than is necessary. But the conversation is interrupted by Lady Anne.

Poor Lady Anne, there is a romance connected with her life, that n.o.body knows of save her parents, and they have almost forgotten it. A romance in which a young officer figures prominently; when Lady Anne first came out she fell desperately in love with him, and he with her, they plighted their troth at a London ball; but her parents said she was too young to marry just then, and it was agreed to wait a year. But war broke out and his regiment was 'ordered to the front.' Oh! the sorrow conveyed in those words, how many, many went out like Lady Anne's lover and never returned, how many lives like hers were blighted in consequence. 'G.o.d bless you, d.i.c.k,' she had said the night before he started, 'and I hope you will come back soon.'

'Soon,' he had repeated, 'dearest, I may never come back again.'

He was right, for he fell on the field of A----, found dead where the fight had been fiercest; and Lady Anne's heart was broken. She did not die of grief, nor did she appear to the world as hopelessly crushed, but went on living just the same, with a feeling of aching emptiness, that is, oh, so hard to bear, and she shut away from prying eyes the picture of her young lover, and round her neck she hung the crystal heart he had given her, whereon his name was inscribed.--d.i.c.k.

CHAPTER V

'Love me, for I love you,' and answer me 'Love me, for I love you.'--CHRISTINA ROSSETTI.

'Tis the night of the ball, dinner is over and the house party is collected in the hall, waiting the arrival of the guests. The fiddles are sc.r.a.ping away in the drawing-room, where the furniture having been taken away and the carpet removed, the floor looks inviting and 'is perfectly delicious' owns Philippa, having performed a _pas seul_ thereon, before anyone was down. She looks extremely pretty to-night in a quaint, little white satin dress, her hair fluffed all round her head, and tied up with pale green ribbons.

At this moment she is striving in vain to b.u.t.ton up one of Chubby's gloves. 'It's awfully good of you,' he says. 'I can't think why they are so tight, what--'

'If I don't b.u.t.ton it this time,' she replies, 'I really can't try any more, for I have not got my own on yet, and I know they'll begin to dance in a moment.'

'You'll let me have the first, won't you?' he says.

'Certainly,' she answers, all her attention absorbed in the b.u.t.ton which is just half in the b.u.t.ton-hole, one little poke and 'there it's done,'

she says.

But alas! it is _done_ indeed, for there is an ominous crack, and a large split is seen right across it.

'What a nuisance,' says Helmdon, gazing at the torn article.

'Oh I hope it wasn't my fault,' says Lippa.