The ghost of Charlotte Cray, and other stories
together on the second day of my visit. “I think he is one of the
finest fellows I ever came across, and seems as good as he is
handsome.”
“Ah, he is, indeed!” she replied, with ready enthusiasm; “and you have
seen the least part of him, uncle. It would be impossible for me to
tell you how good he is in all things. We have been married now for
more than ten years, and during that time I have never had an unkind
word from him, nor do I believe he has ever kept a thought from me. He
is as open as the day, and could not keep a secret if he tried. Dear
fellow!” and something very like a tear twinkled in the wife’s eyes.
“Ay, ay,” I replied, “that’s right. I don’t know much about matrimony,
my dear, but if man and wife never have a secret from one another they
can’t go far wrong. And now perhaps you will enlighten me a little
about these guests of yours, for there is such a number of them that I
feel quite confused.”
Justina passed her hand across her eyes and laughed.
“Yes, that is dear Harry’s whim. He will fill the house at Christmas
from top to basement, and I let him have his way, though all my
visitors are not of my own choosing. With whom shall I commence,
uncle?”
We were sitting on a sofa together during the half hour before dinner,
and one by one the guests, amounting perhaps to fifteen or twenty,
came lounging into the drawing-room.
“Who, then, is that very handsome woman with the scarlet flower in her
hair?”
“Oh, do you call _her_ handsome?” (I could tell at once from the tone
of Justina’s voice that the owner of the scarlet flower was no
favourite of hers.) “That is Lady Amabel Scott, a cousin of Harry’s:
indeed, if she were not, she should never come into _my_ house. Now,
there’s a woman, uncle, whom I can’t bear--a forward, presuming,
flirting creature, with no desire on earth but to attract admiration.
Look how she’s dressed this evening--absurd, for a home party. I
wonder that her husband, Mr. Warden Scott (that is he looking over the
photograph book), can allow her to go on so! It is quite disgraceful.
I consider a flirting married woman one of the most dangerous members
of society.”
“But you can have no reason to fear her attacks,” I said, confidently.
The colour mounted to her face. My niece is not a pretty
woman--indeed, I had already wondered several times what made Trevor
fall in love with her--but this little touch of indignation improved
her.
“_Of course not!_ But Lady Amabel spares no one, and dear Harry is so
good-natured that he refuses to see how conspicuous she makes both him
and herself. I have tried to convince him of it several times, but he
is too kind to think evil of any one, and so I must be as patient as I
can till she goes. Thank Heaven, she does not spend her Christmas with
us! For my part, I can’t understand how one can see any beauty in a
woman with a turned-up nose.”
“Ho, ho!” I thought to myself; “this is where the shoe pinches, is it?
And if a lady will secure an uncommonly good-looking and agreeable man
all to herself, she must expect to see others attempt to share the
prize with her.”
Poor Justina! With as many blessings as one would think heart could
desire, she was not above poisoning her life’s happiness by a touch of
jealousy; and so I pitied her. It is a terrible foe with which to
contend.
“But this is but one off the list,” I continued, wishing to divert her
mind from the contemplation of Sir Harry’s cousin. “Who are those two
dark girls standing together at the side table? and who is that
quiet-looking little lady who has just entered with the tall man in
spectacles?”
“Oh, those--the girls--are the Misses Rushton; they are pretty, are
they not?--were considered quite the belles of last season--and the
old lady on the opposite side of the fireplace is their mother: their
father died some years since.”
“But the gentleman in spectacles? He looks quite a character.”
“Yes, and is considered so, but he is very good and awfully clever.
That is Professor Benson: you must know him and his wife too, the
‘quiet-looking little lady,’ as you called her just now. They are the
greatest friends I have in the world, and it was at their house that I
first met Harry. I am sure you would like Mary Benson, uncle; she is
shy, but has an immense deal in her, and is the kindest creature I
ever knew. You would get on capitally together. I must introduce you
to each other after dinner. And the professor and she are so
attached--quite a model couple, I can assure you.”
“Indeed! But whom have we here?” as the door was thrown open to admit
five gentlemen and two ladies.
“Lord and Lady Mowbray; Colonel Green and his son and daughter;
Captain Mackay and Mr. Cecil St. John,” whispered Lady Trevor, and as
she concluded dinner was announced, and our dialogue ended.
As the only persons in whom my niece had expressed much interest were
Lady Amabel Scott and Mrs. Benson, I took care to observe these two
ladies very narrowly during my leisure moments at the dinner-table,
and came to the conclusion that, so far as I could judge, her estimate
was not far wrong of either of them. Lady Amabel was a decided beauty,
notwithstanding the “turned-up nose” of which her hostess had spoken
so contemptuously: it was also pretty evident that she was a decided
flirt. During my lengthened career of five-and-sixty years, I had
always been credited with having a keen eye for the good points of a
woman or a horse; but seldom had I met with such vivid colouring, such
flashing eyes, and such bright speaking looks as now shone upon me
across the table from the cousin of Sir Harry Trevor. She was a lovely
blonde, in the heyday of her youth and beauty, and she used her power
unsparingly and without reserve. My observation quickened by what
Justina’s flash of jealousy had revealed, I now perceived, or thought
I perceived, that our host was by no means insensible to the
attractions of his fair guest, for, after conducting her in to dinner
and placing her by his side, he devoted every second not demanded by
the rights of hospitality to her amusement. Yet, Lady Amabel seemed
anything but desirous of engrossing his attention; on the contrary,
her arrows of wit flew far and wide, and her bright glances flashed
much in the same manner, some of their beams descending even upon me,
spite of my grey hairs and lack of acquaintanceship. One could easily
perceive that she was a universal favourite; but as Mr. Warden Scott
seemed quite satisfied with the state of affairs, and calmly enjoyed
his dinner, whilst his wife’s admirers, in their fervent admiration,
neglected to eat theirs, I could not see that any one had a right to
complain, and came to the conclusion that my niece, like many another
of her sex, had permitted jealousy to blind her judgment.
I felt still more convinced of this when I turned to the contemplation
of the other lady to whom she had directed my attention--the
professor’s wife, who was her dearest friend, and through whose means
she had first met Sir Harry Trevor. There was certainly nothing to
excite the evil passions of either man or woman in Mrs. Benson. Small
and insignificant in figure, she was not even pleasing in countenance;
indeed, I voted her altogether uninteresting, until she suddenly
raised two large brown eyes, soft as a spaniel’s and shy as a deer’s,
and regarded me. She dropped them again instantly, but as she did so I
observed that her lashes were long and dark, and looked the longer and
darker for resting on perfectly pallid cheeks. _Au reste_, Mrs. Benson
had not a feature that would repay the trouble of looking at twice,
and the plain, dark dress she wore still farther detracted from her
appearance. But she looked a good, quiet, harmless little thing, who,
if she really possessed the sense Lady Trevor attributed to her, might
prove a very valuable and worthy friend. But she was certainly not the
style of woman to cause any one a heartache, or to make a wife rue the
day she met her.
And indeed, when, dinner being over, we joined the ladies in the
drawing-room, and I saw her surrounded by my grand-nephews and nieces,
who seemed by one accord to have singled her out for persecution, I
thought she looked much more like a governess or some one in a
dependent situation than the most welcome guest at Durham Hall. Sir
Harry seemed pleased with her notice of his children, for he took a
seat by her side and entered into conversation with her, the first
time that I had seen him pay his wife’s friend so open a compliment.
Now I watched eagerly for the “great deal” that by Justina’s account
was “in her;” but I was disappointed, for she seemed disinclined for a
_tête-à-tête_, and after a few futile attempts to draw her out, I
was not surprised to see her host quit his position and wander after
Lady Amabel Scott into the back drawing-room, whither my niece’s eyes
followed him in a restless and uneasy manner.
“I promised to introduce you to Mrs. Benson, uncle,” she exclaimed, as
she perceived that I was watching her, and willy-nilly, I was taken
forcible possession of, and soon found myself occupying the chair left
vacant by Sir Harry.
“We can so very seldom persuade Mary to stay with us; and when she
does come, her visits are so brief that we are obliged to make a great
deal of them whilst they last,” was part of Justina’s introduction
speech; and on that hint I commenced to speak of the charms of the
country and my wonder that Mrs. Benson did not oftener take occasion
to enjoy them. But barely an answer, far less an idea, could I extract
from my niece’s valued friend. Mrs. Benson’s brown eyes were not once
raised to meet mine, and the replies which I forced from her lips came
in monosyllables. I tried another theme, but with no better success;
and had just decided that she was as stupid as she looked, when, to my
great relief, the professor arrived with a message from Lady Trevor,
and bore his wife off into another room.
Several days passed without bringing forth much incident. The
gentlemen spent most of their time in the shooting-covers or
hunting-field, and did not meet the ladies until evening re-assembled
them in the drawing-room; on which occasions I used to get as far as I
could from Lady Trevor and the professor’s wife, and in consequence
generally found myself in the vicinity of Sir Harry and Lady Amabel.
Yet, free and intimate as seemed their intercourse with one another,
and narrowly as, in Justina’s interest, I watched them, I could
perceive nothing in their conduct which was not justified by their
relationship, and treated it as a matter of the smallest consequence,
until one afternoon about a fortnight after my arrival at Durham Hall.
With the exception of Sir Harry himself, who had business to transact
with his bailiff, we had all been out shooting, and as, after a hard
day’s work, I was toiling up to my bedroom to dress for dinner, I had
occasion to pass the study appropriated to the master of the house,
and with a sudden desire to give him an account of our sport,
incontinently turned the handle of the door. As I did so I heard an
exclamation and the rustle of a woman’s dress, which were sufficient
to make me halt upon the threshold of the half-opened door, and ask if
I might enter.
“Come in, by all means,” exclaimed Sir Harry. He was lying back
indolently in his arm-chair beside a table strewn with books and
papers,--a little flushed, perhaps, but otherwise himself, and, to my
astonishment, quite alone. Yet I was positive that I had heard the
unmistakable sound of a woman’s dress sweeping the carpet.
Involuntarily I glanced around the room; but there was no egress.
Sir Harry caught my look of inquiry, and seemed annoyed. “What are you
staring at, Wilmer?” he demanded, in the curtest tone I had yet heard
from him.