Sylvia shrank into herself with an uneasy foreboding, for Esmeralda was an impetuous creature, who might be expected to be as undisguised in her penitence as in offence.

"Oh, please don't say anything more about it!" she cried hurriedly. "It was very trying for you finding me there when you came over for a visit.

I have forgotten all about it, if there is anything to forget; and now there's this lovely miniature. How can I thank you?"

"Oh, that is nothing--that's nothing!" cried Esmeralda, waving aside the subject, and insisting upon a full confession of her fault. "I was jealous of you--that is what it was--jealous because they all seemed so fond of you, and I wanted their attention for myself. It was horribly mean, because I have Geoff and the boy, and it is only natural that they should want their own interests.

"I daresay Pixie has told you how father spoiled me all my life, and Bridgie gave way to me until it seemed natural to think first of myself.

But I don't now. I think of Geoffrey and the boy, and I'm trying to be better for their sake. Geoff says he got me only just in time. He is rather stern with me sometimes, do you know. He doesn't say much-- perhaps I don't give him the chance--but his face sets, and his eyes are so large and grave. I can't bear it when he looks at me like that, because, as a rule, you know,"--she gave a soft, happy little laugh--"he loves me so frightfully much, and we are so happy together. I ought to want every girl to be as happy as I am, and I do--really I do.

"In a month or two, when we are home at Knock, will you come and stay with me, Sylvia, and learn to be fond of me too? I'm rather lonely over there now that all the others have left, and I have not many girl- friends. The one I cared for most will be engaged soon, I think, and the man lives abroad, so she may be leaving the neighbourhood. It is not settled yet, but I think Mrs Burrell will give in."

She stared ostentatiously through the window, and Sylvia blushed, and had some ado not to smile at this very transparent intimation of hostility withdrawn.

"Thank you so much! I'd love to come," she said simply; and then the two girls talked quietly together for a few minutes before Miss Munns came in and dispensed tea and reminiscences of all the grand people whom she had ever met, with a view of impressing her visitor, who, of course, was not impressed at all, but secretly amused, as listeners invariably are under such circ.u.mstances.

Esmeralda was just rising to leave when a loud rat-tat at the knocker made Sylvia's heart leap in expectation; and the next moment Jack came into the room in his most easy and a.s.sured manner.

"I thought I would come across for my sister, and inquire how Miss Trevor was after her journey," he announced; and once more Sylvia smiled to herself as she noted how Esmeralda immediately plunged into animated conversation with Miss Munns, to keep her attention engrossed at the opposite end of the room.

Jack O'Shaughnessy stood by the window, and looked down upon his little love with tender, dissatisfied eyes.

"I say," he said softly, "I can't stand this sort of thing! Two minutes' talk, with two other people in the room. How much longer do you suppose I can stand this?"

"You have had only one day yet. It's too soon to complain. You may have seven years!" retorted Sylvia saucily; but at the bottom of her heart she was glad that he found it difficult to be patient.

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.

BY THE RIVER.

Pixie went off in great spirits to join the Wallaces at the riverside cottage which they had rented for the remainder of the summer. The heat in town was already growing oppressive, and it was delightful to think of being in the country again and running free over the dear green fields. Esmeralda had presented her with quite a trousseau of summer dresses, with a selection of hair-ribbons to match, at least an inch wider than any which she had previously possessed, and she piled up her pompadour higher than ever, and pulled out the bows to their farthest extent in her anxiety to do justice to the occasion, and the importance of her own position as the instructor of youth.

A pony-cart was at the station to meet her, with Viva and Inda clinging together on the front seat, ready to pour breathless confidences into her ear the moment she appeared. They spoke with a curious mingling of tongues, but had apparently no difficulty in understanding her when she replied in rapid, colloquial French, so that it was evident that the hours of play had not been wasted, but had the effect of successful study.

"Mamzelle! Mamzelle Paddy, we have boats in our house!" cried Viva eagerly. "Three boats with cushions, and a punt, and one with a funnel in the miggle. And Cousin Jim takes us out with the 'nother gentleman, and we splash with our hands, and the lady was cross because of her sash, and she dried it in the sun. And there's tea in the garden, and a big steamer that makes waves, and muzzer says if we are very good you will play with us at being gipsies under the wheel-barrow."

"An' we got in a box, and the water went up, an' up, an' up, an' then it went down, an' down, an' down, an' then we came home," contributed fat little Inda in her deep, gurgling voice, and Pixie turned from one to the other and cried, "Vraiment!" "Sans doute!" "Bravo!" and beamed in delighted expectation.

The house-party were a.s.sembled on the lawn drinking tea when the pony- carriage turned in at the gate, and Pixie looked round with sparkling eyes, quite dazzled by the beauty of the scene. The narrow road, running at the back of the houses, had been dull and uninteresting, but before many yards of the drive had been traversed, there came a view over the wide sunlit river, and beyond it green meadows stretching away as far as the eye could reach.

The house was not a cottage after all, but quite a large, imposing- looking house, and the lawn sloping to the river bank was smooth and soft as velvet. Baskets of flowers hung from the verandah; picturesque stumps of trees were hollowed out to receive pots of geraniums; a red and white awning shaded the tea-table; and the wicker chairs were plentifully supplied with scarlet cushions. It was Pixie's first peep at the summer glories of the river, and she felt as if she had stepped into fairyland itself.

The little girls seized her hands and dragged her in triumph across the lawn, and Mrs Wallace looked round, and said smilingly to her friends--

"Here's my French governess--the latest addition to the household. What do you think of my choice?"

"Governess! That girl! She looks a child herself. Edith, what nonsense are you talking?"

"Sense, my dear, I a.s.sure you. The wisest thing I ever did, as you will see before many hours are past. We shall have some peace now that she has arrived. Bon jour, Mamzelle. How I am happy to see thee again!

Thou are not fatigued--no? Seat thyself in this chair, and I will make known to thee my friends."

She spoke in French, and evidently wished her governess to appear as French on this occasion at least; and Pixie rose to the occasion, sweeping elaborate bows from side to side, unconsciously elevating her shoulders, and waving expressive hands. She discoursed volubly about her long and adventurous journey of three-quarters of an hour's duration, and Mrs Wallace's guests looked on with smiling faces, putting an occasional laborious question as she appeared to be reaching the end of her story.

There were several ladies, all young and pretty and beautifully dressed, and three strange men, including Cousin Jim and his soldier friend from India. Cousin Jim had bright, twinkling eyes, and looked full of life and spirit; but his friend's brown face was lined and haggard, and his smile was half-hearted, as if his thoughts were not in the present.

Pixie noticed, however, that it was to his side that little Inda crept for support, and that his disengaged hand softly stroked the child's head from time to time, as if he found comfort in her presence. Such good friends did they appear that after the meal was finished she refused to be separated from him, and implored his company in the gipsy tent in the paddock. Mrs Wallace protested, but the young fellow declared that he enjoyed being victimised, and walked off with the schoolroom party with the utmost good humour.

"But I can't speak French, Viva," he explained--"not well enough to be able to converse with Mademoiselle, at least! You must explain to her that I am only a stupid Englishman, and ask her to excuse me. You can translate that for me, I suppose?"

"She's not French either; she's only pitending. She's only English the same as me," protested Viva st.u.r.dily; and Pixie nodded at him with complacent smiles.

"But I've lived abroad; so I speak it to them for their good. You've been away too, haven't you? I hope you enjoyed yourself?"

He smiled, but it was rather a sad little smile, despite its amus.e.m.e.nt.

"I went for work, you know, not pleasure. We accomplished what there was to do, which was satisfactory; but I can't honestly say I enjoyed it."

"I hate work!" agreed Pixie sympathetically. "We all do; it's in the family. 'Never do to-day what you can put off till to-morrow,' my brother used to tell me, for you never know what may happen, and you may get out of it altogether if you wait. But if we are obliged to do it, we pretend we like it, for it's so dull to be unhappy. And if it was horrid abroad, it makes it all the nicer to come back, doesn't it?"

"Sometimes," he said shortly.

They had reached the gipsy encampment by this time, and were peremptorily commanded to sit down on a bench pending certain important preparations under the wheel-barrow; so he took possession of one corner, and Pixie took the other and stared at him with unabashed scrutiny. He was unhappy, she decided, and that was enough to enlist her whole-hearted sympathy; but besides being unhappy, he was very good to look upon, with his bronzed skin, well-cut features, and soldierly bearing. She admired him immensely; and the admiration was mutual, though of a different nature.

She was a quaint-looking little soul, the young fellow decided--plain- looking, he had thought on first sight, but there was something oddly attractive about the wide eyes and large curving lips; you wanted to look at them once and yet again, and each time you looked the attraction increased. What was it? Not beauty, not intellect, not wit--nothing, it appeared, but a crystalline sincerity and sweetness of heart, which exercised an irresistible claim on the affections. His face softened, and he bent towards her with a kindly questioning.

"How do you come to be governessing these children? You are so young still--sixteen--seventeen, is it? You ought to be in the schoolroom yourself!"

"There was nothing else I could do, and I wanted to earn some money, because we're poor. I'm small, but I've known a lot of trouble,"

replied Pixie, with a complacent air which was distinctly trying to her companion's composure. He stroked his moustache to hide the twitching lips, and said solemnly--

"I'm sorry--very sorry to hear that! I hope, however, it is all in the past. You look remarkably cheerful now."

"That's because I'm helping; and we are such a nice family at home. If you are with the people you like best, that makes you happy, doesn't it, without thinking of anything else?"

"Yes," he said shortly, and rose from his seat to walk across to where the children were scrambling on the gra.s.s. They leapt on him, and hung on his arms; and he played with them for five or ten minutes, then produced a packet of chocolate from a pocket, and giving it to Pixie to distribute, made his escape to the house.

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

A CONFIDENCE.

During the next few days the "Capting," as Viva called him, was constantly deserting his companions to join himself to the schoolroom party in their walks and games.

As Pixie had suspected, his heart was sore, and the innocent affection which the children lavished upon him made their society more congenial than that of his own companions, who were enjoying their stay in the country in merry, uproarious fashion.

Viva and Inda were interesting and original children, while "Mamzelle Paddy" was a house-party in herself--a delicious combination of shrewdness and innocence. He had little chance of private conversation with her, for the children were exacting in their demands; but their intimacy rapidly increased, as was only natural under the circ.u.mstances.

It was impossible to remain on formal terms with one who was united with yourself to withstand an a.s.sault of wild savages, as portrayed by two little girls with branches of bracken waving above their heads, and geranium petals stuck in ferocious patterns about their cheeks; impossible not to feel an affection for the tallest member of the battalion which marched regularly every morning to the corner of the paddock to be drilled by their commander, scarlet sashes crossed sideways over holland dresses, and Panama hats fastened by immaculate black chin-straps.