"Then she doesn't know what she is talking about," says Mrs. Geoffrey, indignantly. "The idea of comparing Geoffrey with Jack!"

At this the laughter grows universal, Geoffrey and Nicholas positively distinguishing themselves in this line, when just at the very height of their mirth the door opens, and Violet enters, followed by Captain Rodney.

CHAPTER x.x.xVIII.

HOW NOLLY DECLINES TO REPEAT HIS STORY--HOW JACK RODNEY TELLS ONE INSTEAD--AND HOW THEY ALL SHOW THEIR SURPRISE ABOUT WHAT THEY KNEW BEFORE.

As they enter, mirth ceases. A remarkable silence falls upon the group.

Everybody looks at anything but Violet and her companion.

These last advance in a leisurely manner up the room, yet with somewhat of the sneaking air of those who are in the possession of embarra.s.sing news that must be told before much time goes by. The thought of this perhaps deadens their perception and makes them blind to the fact that the others are unnaturally quiet.

"It has been such a charming day," says Violet, at last, in a rather mechanical tone. Yet, in spite of its stiltedness, it breaks the spell of consternation and confusion that has bound the others in its chains, and restores them to speech.

They all smile, and say, "Yes, indeed," or "Oh, yes, indeed," or plain "Yes," in a breath. They all feel intensely obliged to Violet for her very ordinary little remark.

Then it is enchanting to watch the _pet.i.t soins_, the delicate little attentions that the women in a carefully suppressed fashion lavish upon the bride-elect,--as she already is to them. There is nothing under heaven so dear to a woman's heart as a happy love-affair,--except, indeed, it be an unhappy one. Just get a woman to understand you have broken or are breaking (the last is the best) your heart about any one, and she will be your friend on the spot. It is so unutterably sweet to her to be a _confidante_ in any secret where Dan Cupid holds first place.

Mona, rising, pushes Violet gently into her own chair, a little black-and-gold wicker thing, gaudily cushioned.

"Yes, sit there," she says, a new note of tender sympathy in her tone, keeping her hand on Violet's shoulder as the latter makes some faint polite effort to rise again. "You must indeed. It is such a dear, cosey, comfortable little chair."

Why it has become suddenly necessary that Violet should be made cosey and comfortable she omits to explain.

Then Dorothy, going up to the new-comer, removes her hat from her head, and pats her cheeks, and tells her with one of her loveliest smiles that she has "such a delicious color, dearest! just like a wee bit of fresh apple-blossom!"

Apple-blossom suggests the orchard, whereon Violet reddens perceptibly, and Nolly grows cold with fright, and feels a little more will make him faint.

Lastly, Lady Rodney comes to the front with,--

"You have not tired yourself, dear, I hope. The day has been so oppressively warm, more like July than May. Would you like your tea now, Violet? We can have it half an hour earner if you wish."

All these evidences of affection Violet notices in a dreamy, far-off fashion: she is the happier because of them; yet she only appreciates them languidly, being filled with one absorbing thought, that dulls all others. She accepts the chair, the compliment, and the tea with grace, but with somewhat vague grat.i.tude.

To Jack his brothers are behaving with the utmost _bonhommie_. They have called him "old fellow" twice, and once Geoffrey has slapped him on the back with a heartiness well meant, and no doubt encouraging, but trying.

And Jack is greatly pleased with them, and, seeing everything just now through a rose-colored veil, tells him self he is specially blessed in his own people, and that Geoffrey and old Nick are two of the decentest old men alive. Yet he too is a little _distrait_, being lost in an endeavor to catch Violet's eyes,--which eyes refuse persistently to be so caught.

Nolly alone of all the group stands aloof, joining not at all in the unspoken congratulations, and feeling indeed like nothing but the guilty culprit that he is.

"How you were all laughing when we came in!" says Violet, presently: "we could hear you all along the corridor. What was it about?"

Everybody at this smiles involuntarily,--everybody, that is, except Nolly, who feels faint again, and turns a rich and lively crimson.

"It was some joke, of course?" goes on Violet, not having received any answer to her first question.

"It was," says Nicholas, feeling a reply can no longer be shirked. Then he says, "Ahem!" and turns his glance confidingly upon the carpet.

But Geoffrey to whom the situation has its charm, takes up the broken thread.

"It was one of Nolly's good things," he says, genially. "And you know what he is capable of when he likes! It was funny to the last degree,--calculated to set any 'table in a roar.'--Give it to us again, Nolly--it bears repeating.--Ask him to tell it to you, Violet."

"Yes, do, Nolly," says Violet.

"Go on, Noll," exclaims Dorothy, in her most encouraging tone. "Let Violet hear it. _She_ will understand it."

"I would, of course, with pleasure," stammers the unfortunate Nolly,--"only perhaps Violet heard it before!"

"Well, really, do you know, I think she did!" says Mona, so demurely that they all smile again.

"I call this beastly mean," says Mr. Darling to Geoffrey in an indignant aside. "You all gave your oaths to secrecy before I began, and now you are determined to betray me, I call it right-down shabby. And I sha'n't forget it to any of you, let me tell you that."

"My dear fellow, you can't have forgotten it so soon," says Geoffrey, pretending to misunderstand this vehement whisper. "Don't be shy! or shall I refresh your memory? It was, you remember, about----"

"Oh, yes--yes--I know; it doesn't matter; (I'll pay you out for this"), says Nolly, savagely, in an aside.

"Well, I do like a good story," says Violet, carelessly.

"Then Nolly's last will suit you down to the ground," says Nicholas.

"Besides its wit, it possesses the rare quality of being strictly true.

It really occurred. It is founded on fact. He himself vouches for the truth of it."

"Oh, go on; do," says Mr. Darling, in a second aside, who is by this time a brilliant purple from fear and indignation.

"Let's have it," says Jack, waking up from his reverie, having found it impossible to compel Violet's eyes to meet his.

"It is really nothing," says Nolly, feverishly. "You have all heard it before."

"I said so," murmurs Mona, meekly.

"It is quite an old story," goes on Nolly.

"It is, in fact, the real and original 'old, old story," says Geoffrey, innocently, smiling mildly at the leg of a distant table.

"If you are bent on telling 'em, do it all at once," whispers Nolly, casting a withering glance at the smiling Geoffrey. "It will save time and trouble."

"I never saw any one feel the heat so much as our Oliver," says Geoffrey, pleasantly. "His complexion waxeth warm."

"Would you like a fan, Nolly?" says Mona, with a laugh, yet really with a kindly view to rescuing him from his present dilemma. "Do you think you could find me mine? I fancy I left it in the morning-room."

"I am sure I could," says Nolly, bestowing upon her a grateful glance, after which he starts upon his errand with suspicious alacrity.

"How odd Nolly is at times!" says Violet, yet without any very great show of surprise. She is still wrapped in her own dream of delight, and is rather indifferent to objects in which but yesterday she would have felt an immediate interest. "But, Nicholas, what was his story about? He seems quite determined not to impart it to me."

"A mere nothing," says Nicholas, airily; "we were merely chaffing him a little, because you know what a mess he makes of anything of that sort he takes in hand."