'You are a very early visitor this morning, Percival,' she observed, as she arranged the chrysanthemums in her gray dress; and she looked up at him pleasantly as she shook hands with him.

But there was no answering smile on Mr. Harcourt's face.

'It is a very unusual business that brings me,' he replied rather solemnly. 'Is there anyone in the drawing-room, Audrey? I should like to speak to you quietly.'

'Susan is in there, dusting the ornaments, but I can easily send her away,' rejoined Audrey cheerfully. 'Mother is in the study.' And then she led the way to the drawing-room, and gave Susan a hint to withdraw.

Mr. Harcourt waited until the door was shut, then he put down his hat and faced round on his sister-in-law.

'This is a very sad business,' he said, still with the same portentous air of solemnity. 'I am sorry to say your sister is dreadfully upset.'

'Oh, I hope not,' returned Audrey quickly.

'I have never seen her more upset about anything. She hardly slept at all last night, and I was half afraid I should have to send for Dr.

Musgrave this morning: she was not quite strong enough to bear such a shock.'

'Gage is so sensitive, you see.'

'She is not more sensitive than other people,' feeling himself bound to defend his wife's nerves. 'I am not in the least surprised to find how much she has taken it to heart. I think she feels very properly about it. We are both as disappointed as possible--we hoped better things of you, Audrey.'

'Is not that a little severe?'

'I think not. I am bound to tell you the truth plainly, that Geraldine and I strongly disapprove of this engagement.'

'I am so sorry,' returned Audrey, with provoking good-humour; 'but you see, Percival, one must be guided by one's own feelings in such a personal matter; and I hope when you and Gage know Mr. Blake a little better that you will alter your opinion.'

'I am afraid I must differ from you there, even at the risk of displeasing you. I must say that I think Mr. Blake is the last man to make you happy.'

'Now, what reason can you have for making such a sweeping a.s.sertion?'

asked Audrey, waxing a little warm at this. Percival had no right to stand there lecturing her after this fashion; it was not in a brother-in-law's province to interfere with her choice of a lover. If her parents had given their sanction to her engagement, and allowed her to throw herself away on a poor man, it was surely no one else's business to say a dissenting word. Percival might go home and lecture his own wife if he liked. 'It is a pity you and Gage are so worldly,'

she said, in what was meant to be a withering tone. Audrey had never been so near quarrelling with her brother-in-law.

'Worldly?' he repeated, in rather a perplexed tone. 'My dear girl, I confess I do not understand you.'

'It is very easy to understand,' she returned coldly. 'You and Gage object to Mr. Blake because he is poor and has not made his position; you think I am throwing myself away, because I have engaged myself to a junior cla.s.sical master who has to work his way up.'

'Just so,' observed Mr. Harcourt; 'that is exactly what we do think.'

'And yet you are surprised because I call you worldly. If you only knew how differently father and I think! Perhaps he is disappointed too--indeed, I know that he is; he wanted me to marry an older man--but, all the same, he agrees with me, that a man so honourable and clever, one who has borne so high a character, who is so good a son and brother, would be likely to make a woman happy.'

Mr. Harcourt shrugged his shoulders. They were arguing from different points. Audrey was not likely to convince him: he had started with a preconceived dislike to the whole business. He now proceeded to pull Audrey's impulsive speech to pieces.

'I do not deny that Blake is a good fellow, and he is clever, too; but in marrying him you will be descending in the social scale. Who are the Blakes? No one knows anything about them--Edith always declared the father was a City man--but we do know that his mother is distinctly objectionable!'

'Excuse me, Percival, but you are speaking of a close friend. Even if she were not Cyril's mother, my friendship for her should prevent you from speaking against her in my presence.'

Mr. Harcourt groaned as he heard the word 'Cyril,' but he felt at the same time that he had gone too far: his quick temper had carried him away. He hastened to apologise.

'You must forgive me, Audrey, if I speak a little too plainly. But this is such a bitter disappointment to me, my very affection for you makes me object all the more strongly to this engagement. As Geraldine said to me last night, she has only one sister--and this makes it all the harder for her.'

'Yes, I understand; and I am very sorry to disappoint you both. But, Percival, the thing is done now, and I want you and Gage to make the best of it.'

'Will you not reconsider your decision?' he asked, and there was softness and real affection in his look. 'Perhaps, after all, you may have mistaken your feelings; a girl is sometimes talked into a thing.'

But she shook her head.

'I have not mistaken them,' she said quietly. 'Don't say any more, Percival; I have no wish to quarrel; and, of course, I am a little sore about this.'

Then Mr. Harcourt felt that his mission had been unsuccessful; the girl was contumacious, and would listen to no one.

'It's all Dr. Ross's fault,' he said to himself, as he took up his hat and prepared to walk with her to Hillside. 'If he had refused his consent she would have given the thing up; but in worldly matters my respected father-in-law is a mere child.'

CHAPTER XXVI

HOW GERALDINE TOOK IT TO HEART

'This world is a comedy to those who think, a tragedy to those who feel.'--HORACE WALPOLE.

It may be doubted if either Audrey or her brother-in-law enjoyed their walk to Hillside. Mr. Harcourt felt that he had failed signally in his brotherly mission, and any sort of failure was intolerable to him. To do him justice, he was thinking only of Audrey's future welfare. As he took up the wide clerical-looking hat that he affected, and walked with her down the terrace, he told himself sorrowfully that he might as well have held his tongue; but, all the same, he could not refrain from speaking another word or two.

'I do so wish I could make you see this thing as your friends will see it!' he said, no longer laying down the law, but speaking in a tone of mild insistence, as became a man who knew himself to be right. 'They may not be so closely interested in the matter, but perhaps their view may be less prejudiced. Think, my dear girl, what a serious, what a terrible thing it would be if you were to discover too late that you had made a mistake!'

'I should never own it to be one,' she said, trying to smile; but it could not be denied that she found her brother-in-law a little depressing; 'and you may be quite sure that I should abide by it. There is a fund of obstinacy in my nature that no one seems to have discovered but myself.'

Then Mr. Harcourt gave vent to an impatient sigh. He must leave her to Geraldine, he thought; but even then he could not forbear from one Parthian thrust.

'You will live to repent it,' he said very seriously, 'and then you will remember my warning. You must not look to me to help you out of your difficulties then, Audrey; I would have done anything for you now.'

'I will promise you that I will not ask for your help,' she returned, so promptly that he looked quite hurt. And she hastened to soften her words. 'If one makes a mistake of that kind, one must only look to one's self.'

'I have always regarded your interests as identical with Edith's,' he returned a little stiffly. 'I mean, I have always treated you as though you were my own sister; but, of course, if you cannot rely on me as your brother----'

But Audrey would not let him finish his sentence.

'Why, Percival,' she said gently, 'I do believe you are quarrelling with me, just because I am taking you at your word. Are you not just a little illogical for once? In one breath you tell me not to look to you for help, and then you reproach me with unsisterly feelings. How are we to understand each other at this rate?'

Then a faint smile played round Mr. Harcourt's mouth. It was true that, in the heat of argument, he did not always measure his words; even Geraldine had ventured to tell him so once.

'Well, well, we will say no more about it,' he returned somewhat magnanimously; and though he could not pluck up spirit to turn the conversation into another channel, he refrained from any more depressing remarks. He gave her a friendly nod and smile as they parted in the hall.

'You will find Geraldine in the morning-room,' he said; and Audrey was much relieved that he did not offer to accompany her.

Mrs. Harcourt evidently regarded herself as an invalid that morning. She was sitting in the corner of the big couch, in her pale-pink tea-gown.

She rose at her sister's entrance, however, and crossed the room with languid steps.