CHAPTER XV

MRS. BLAKE HAS HER NEW GOWN

'Thou art a girl of n.o.ble nature's crowning: A smile of thine is like an act of grace; Thou hast no noisome looks, no pretty frowning, Like daily beauties of a vulgar race.

When thou dost smile, a light is on thy face, A clear, cool kindliness, a lunar beam Of peaceful radiance, silvering o'er the stream Of human thought with beauteous glory, Not quite a waking truth, nor quite a dream: A visitation--bright though transitory.'

HARTLEY COLERIDGE.

Audrey was much disappointed by the result of her conversation with her cousin. It was true that Michael had tried to efface the severity of his own words by remarking that a third interview might somewhat alter his opinion of the fascinating widow--that he might even grow to like her in time. Audrey knew better. Michael had a certain genius of intuition; he made up his mind about people at once, and she had never known him to reverse his decision. As far as regarded the younger members of the Blake family, they would still be able to work happily together. Michael was certainly much interested in Kester; he had adopted him in the same manner as she had adopted Mollie. It was a comfort also that he approved of Mr. Blake. Michael had spoken of him with decided approval, and without any stint or limit of praise; nevertheless she was well aware that Michael would willingly have restricted their intimacy, and that he saw with some reluctance her father's growing partiality for the young master.

Audrey had only spoken the simple truth when she owned that Michael's approval was necessary to her perfect enjoyment of her friend. She might still maintain her own opinions of Mrs. Blake. Nevertheless, the first fine flavour of her pleasure had been destroyed by Michael's severe criticism; the delicate bloom had been impaired. She would hold fast to her new friend; she would even be kinder to her, as though to make up for other people's hard speeches; but much of her enthusiasm must be locked in her own breast.

'What is the use of talking on a subject on which we should only disagree?' she said to him a week or two afterwards, when he had rebuked her playfully for not telling him something. 'It was only a trifling matter connected with Mrs. Blake.'

And when he heard that, Michael held his peace. He had been thrown constantly into Mrs. Blake's company since their first meeting, but as yet he had not seen fit to change his opinions.

But in spite of this little rift in her perfect harmony, Audrey thoroughly enjoyed the next month; she was almost sorry that the vacation was so near. It had been a very gay month. Relays of visitors--distant relations or mere friends--had been invited to Woodcote and Hillside. Mrs. Ross's garden-party had rivalled Mrs.

Charrington's, and there had been a succession of picnics, driving parties, and small select dinners at all the Hill houses. But in spite of her many engagements--her afternoons on the cricket-field, the tennis tournament, in which she and Cyril Blake won, and various other gaieties--Audrey had not neglected Mollie. Twice a week she devoted an hour and a half to her pupil. When the music-lesson was over, Audrey would read French with her or correct her exercises. She was a very conscientious mistress, and would not allow Mollie to waste any of her time in idle gossip. When she was putting away her books, Mollie's voluble tongue would make amends for the enforced silence.

'Oh, Miss Ross,' she exclaimed one day, 'do you know, Cyril has given mamma such a beautiful present! You will never guess what it is!'

Audrey prudently refrained from any guesses; besides, she was still correcting Mollie's translation.

'It is a black silk dress--a real beauty, as mamma says. She has borrowed Miss Marshall's last copy of the Queen, and she means to make it up herself. Mamma is so clever! It is to have a long train; at least, a moderately long train, and an open bodice--open in front, you know--with tulle folds. Oh, I forget exactly; but mamma explained it to me so nicely!'

'It was very kind of your brother,' observed Audrey gravely.

For once Mollie was not checked.

'Yes; isn't he a darling for thinking of it? He went to Attenborough himself and chose it, and mamma thought he was on the cricket-field all the time. He got her a pair of long gloves, too. Cyril always thinks of everything. Mamma cried when she opened the parcel, she was so pleased; and then Cyril laughed at her. The worst of it is'--and here Mollie's face lengthened a little--'Kester will have to wait for his new suit, and the poor boy is so shabby! Cyril went up to his room to tell him so; because his leg was so painful, he had gone to bed early. Of course, Kester said he did not mind a bit, and he would much rather that mamma had her new gown and could go out and enjoy herself; but, all the same, it is a little hard for Kester, is it not?'

'I don't think boys care about their clothes quite so much as girls do.'

'Oh, but Kester does; he is almost as particular as Cyril. He does love to have everything nice, and I know he is ashamed of that old jacket. He has outgrown it, too, and the sleeves are so short; and now he is so much with Captain Burnett, he feels it all the more. Oh, do you know, Miss Ross'--interrupting herself--'Captain Burnett is going to drive Kester to Brail in his dogcart!'

'That will be very nice. But, Mollie, you really must leave off chattering; you have translated this sentence quite wrongly. This is not one bit the sense.' And Mollie did at last consent to hold her tongue.

Audrey took her mother into her confidence that afternoon as they were dining together, and told her the whole story about the black silk dress. Mrs. Ross was much interested.

'How very nice of him!' she said, in just the sympathetic tone that Audrey expected to hear. 'I said from the first that I liked Mr. Blake; I told your father so. He is a good son. I am not a bit surprised that his mother dotes on him. I am sure I should if he were my son;' and Mrs.

Ross heaved a gentle little sigh under her lace mantle.

She knew her husband had ardently desired a son, and, until Michael's troubles had made him almost an inmate of the house, there had been a certain void and unfulfilled longing in Dr. Ross's breast. Not that he ever spoke of such things; but his wife knew him so well.

'Perhaps one day he will have a grandson,' she thought; for her motherly imagination loved to stretch itself into the future.

'Don't you think we might ask Mrs. Blake to dinner next week, when your cousin Rose is here?' she observed presently. 'Rosie will be charmed with her; and we could get the Cardells to meet her, and perhaps the Vicar and Mrs. Boyle. You know they have not been to dine with us for a long time.'

'Very well, mother. I have not the slightest objection,' returned Audrey, who had in fact been leading up to this. 'I suppose you will ask Gage too?'

'Oh, of course!' for Mrs. Ross never considered any party complete without the presence of her eldest daughter. 'We must find out which day will suit her best.'

'I do not believe Percival will let her come,' returned Audrey calmly.

'He says she is going out too much, and tiring herself dreadfully. I heard him tell her that he meant to be more strict with her for the future.'

'Dear Percival, how good he is to her! I always told your father that he would make her an excellent husband. Your father was not a bit enthusiastic at first--he liked Percival, and thought him an exceedingly able man; but he never did think anyone good enough for his girls. You will find him hard to please when your turn comes, Audrey.'

'My turn will be long in coming,' she replied lightly. 'Well, if Percival prove himself a tyrant, whom do you mean to have in Gage's place?' And then they resumed the subject of the dinner-party.

Things turned out as Audrey predicted: Mr. Harcourt would not allow his wife to accept her mother's invitation.

'She has been over-exerting herself, and must keep quiet,' he said to his mother-in-law when he next saw her at Hillside. 'I tell her that unless she is prudent, and takes things more quietly, she will not be fit for her journey to Scotland--and then all our plans will be upset.'

For a charming arrangement had been made for the summer vacation. Dr.

Ross had taken a cottage in the Highlands for his family, and Mr.

Harcourt had secured a smaller one, about half a mile off, for himself and his wife. Michael was to form part of the Ross household, and during the last week or two he and Audrey had been putting their heads together over a benevolent scheme for taking Kester. There was a spare room in their cottage, and Mrs. Ross had asked Audrey if she would like one of her cousins to accompany them. Audrey had hesitated for the moment.

Mollie had been in her thoughts, but when she had hinted at this to Michael, he had said somewhat decidedly that, in his opinion, Kester ought to be the one to have the treat.

'He would be company for me, too,' he added, 'when you and your father go on your fishing expeditions. And he will not be a bad third, either, when you honour us with your company.'

Audrey had a great wish to take Mollie. She thought how the girl would enjoy those long rambles across the purple moors, but she was open to reason: as Michael had pointed out to her, Kester certainly needed the change more than Mollie. It would be good for Michael to have a companion when she and her father and Percival went on one of their long expeditions. The boy had been drooping sadly of late--the heat tried him--and, as Audrey knew, Biddy's homely dishes seldom tempted his sickly appet.i.te.

Mr. Harcourt was not aware of this little plan. When he uttered his marital protest Geraldine looked at her mother with a sort of resigned despair.

'You hear what Percy says, mother. I suppose you must ask someone else in my place.'

'But I am not going without you,' returned her husband good-naturedly.

'Your mother would not want me, my dear, under those circ.u.mstances. We will stay at home, like Darby and Joan, by our own ingle-side.'

'Oh, then you can ask the Drummonds,' went on Geraldine, in a relieved voice. 'Audrey ought to have reminded you of them, but she seems to think only of the Blakes. I suppose you will be obliged to ask Mr.

Blake, too, mother?'

'Yes, certainly, my dear. Mrs. Blake would not like to come without her son. It will be a large party, but----'

'Well, it cannot be helped, I suppose; but Percy and I think it is rather a pity----' Here Geraldine gave a slight cough, warned by a look from her husband.

'What is a pity, my dear?'

'Oh, it does not matter--at least, Percy does not wish me to speak.'

'Geraldine is rather like the dog in the manger,' interrupted Mr.

Harcourt. 'Because I will not let her come to your dinner-party, she would rather you did not have one at all. That is it, isn't it, Jerry?'

Mrs. Ross smiled benevolently at this little sally. She liked to hear her son-in-law's jokes. She never joked Geraldine herself, and so she seldom saw that girlish blush that was so becoming.

When she had taken her leave, Geraldine said to her husband: