The Heather-Moon
her a mirror of truth. When he discovers that she has a grown-up
daughter he'll shrug his shoulders, and perhaps never even let her know
she's been found out. I'm not very well acquainted with Bennett, but
I've met him a few times, and his most agreeable social quality seems to
me his strong, rather rough sense of humour. I expect he'll see the
funny side of being hoodwinked by Mrs. Bal. And a few years more or less
on her age--what do they matter to him? He's forty-five; and on the
whole he couldn't get a wife to suit him better."
"I have a sneaking sympathy with Mrs. Bal," confessed Aline, in her
gentlest voice. "She's conquered all of you men, and has no further fear
of you; but I feel that she's trembling in her shoes because of Maud and
me. I should love to reassure her and let her know that we're not cats."
"Shall I take her a message?" I suggested, trying not to seem too eager.
"I'm sure she'd like to get it."
Aline smiled indulgently. "Poor boy, doesn't he want me to say 'yes?'
It's too late this evening, I'm afraid; but call on her and Barrie early
to-morrow morning, and ask if she'd care to drop in on the poor invalid,
on her way to rehearsal. I'd better see Mrs. Bal alone. She may want to
say things she wouldn't wish Barrie to hear--don't you think so, Mr.
Somerled? And, by the way, now your little ward is--more or less--safe
in other hands, have you settled your future plans?"
"I expect to have something mapped out to-morrow," Somerled answered.
"You'll go on with your trip--your rest cure--I suppose, as you meant to
when we--that is, before you were saddled with all this responsibility?"
"I've been looking forward to Edinburgh, from the first," said he,
evasively.
Aline saw that she would get no more satisfaction, and ceased to risk
irritating him; but after her guests had bidden her good-night, she kept
me for a talk.
Of course she made me describe the scene between Barrie and her mother,
but she was more interested to know how Somerled had looked, what he had
said and done, than in my opinion of Mrs. Bal.
"What do _you_ think he means to do?" she appealed to me, desperately.
"Do you think he's so infatuated with Barrie that he'll offer to take
the girl off her mother's hands and marry her?"
"I've been studying Somerled for both our sakes," I said. "What I think
is, he's been telling himself the girl is too young and all that, and
ought to have a chance to meet a lot of other men. Yet he's seen how she
unconsciously attracts every male creature who comes along, and that
it's a danger for her if----"
"_Unconsciously_ attracts! But I forgot, you're infatuated too. And she
_doesn't_ attract everybody. George Vanneck hardly considers her pretty.
He can't bear this rising generation of long-legged young colts, he
says; and he calls her hair carrots."
"We'll cross George off the list. It's long enough without him, and
increasing with leaps and bounds. There'll probably be more names on it
by to-morrow night" (evidently I have a prophetic soul). "But to go back
to Somerled. Of course he foresaw something of what happened to-day: but
Barrie's face when Mrs. Bal suggested being a sister to her was enough
to turn a man of marble into a man of fire; and I don't think Somerled's
resolutions up to that point were as hard even as sandstone. He must see
now, as I do, that there'll be no place for the poor child with her
mother, whether Mrs. Bal marries a millionaire or goes gayly on with her
career as an actress. What is to become of a girl like Barrie, left to
her own devices, with every man--well, let's say every _second_ man--who
passes, stopping to flirt if not to propose? My fear is that Somerled's
resolutions are turning round the other way, and that he's contemplating
himself as permanent guardian--if Barrie'll take him."
"Take him! She'll snap at him. She shows her feelings in the most
disgusting way. Oh, my _dear_ boy! I apologize. But I have feelings
too--as you know only too well."
"I'm afraid she _is_ getting to like him," I said, "but I persuade
myself, anyhow, that she's more in love with love in general than with
Somerled in particular. She's under the influence of the heather moon."
"I'm not going to let her have Somerled!" Aline cried out sharply. "I
can't bear it. Can you?"
"I'm an idiot about the girl," I admitted. "I get worse every day. The
more flies that collect round the honey the more I want it myself. I
didn't know I was that sort of person, but I am. The worst of it is, she
calls me her brother, which is fatal."
"No, it isn't. It shan't be," said Aline. "I shall get her for you."
"Thank you very much," said I.
"I'm not joking. An idea is on its way to me. I've been seeing it dimly
for days, but its success depended a good deal on Mrs. Bal. Now, her
being afraid of me makes it easier. I can't lie here idle, with all this
going on--yet I can't let _him_ see me as I am. My eyes look hideous.
They're pink, like an albino's. Otherwise I wouldn't listen to the
oculist. But I must do something. I begin to see what I _can_ do, if
you'll go on helping me and yourself, and not be a fool."
"I won't be more of a fool than Nature made me," I assured her, "though
I may be a fool to love that girl."
"No, for you can make her care. Of course you can. She's hardly more
than a child."
"You were married at eighteen," I reminded my sister. "At least you
always tell people you were."
"If you were a woman, you'd be a thorough cat! It's true--I wasn't much
more, but _I_ was mature in mind. I'd seen the world. Barrie MacDonald
will make you happy. You'll play together all your lives, and she can
take my place, helping you to write stories. It will be quite a romance
for the newspapers. And when she's out of sight, out of mind with Ian
Somerled, he'll realize that she wasn't the right one. He'll come back
to me, and see that I was always meant for him."
"A woman's instinct is often right. Also many a heart is caught in the
rebound," said I, falling back on proverbs. And in this way, with the
talc that entered Aline's eyes, malice entered our hearts. Thus we took
up our parts of (alleged) villain and villainess.
* * * * *
Next morning, as early as I dared, I sent to ask if I might give Mrs.
Ballantree MacDonald a message from my sister. Word came back that she
would see me at once. Five minutes later I was knocking at the door of
her sitting-room, and, obeying her "Come in," found myself in the
presence of a Vision. She was in one of those tea-gown arrangements like
Aline's, only more so. She had a cap which, I fear, would have made
Aline's look, as they expressively say on the other side, "like thirty
cents." And if Morgan P. Bennett had seen the beautiful Barbara then, he
would have proposed without hesitating another second. That is, he would
have done so if Barrie hadn't come in before he began. She did come
while I was giving Aline's message to Mrs. Bal, and though she looked as
if she hadn't slept, to me she was more lovable than ever. I tried to
convince myself that Aline was right; that this girl and I were made for
each other; that, if I could take her away from Somerled, she and I were
bound to be happy together forever after.
Mrs. Bal explained that she was later than usual because she had not had
a good night, and her chief maid, in reality a trained nurse, had been
giving her electric massage.
"Now I feel equal," she added, "to tackling the world, the flesh, _et le
diable_. Mrs. West is the world. Morgan Bennett's the _flesh_(he weighs
two hundred pounds!) and--I shall be the devil. I always am at a
rehearsal. But the mood shan't come on while I'm with your sister. Now I
must go and get dressed. I'll not be fifteen minutes. Really! You don't
know what I can do in the flying line, when I choose. You may stay and
amuse--my little sister."
I knew better than to ask questions. If the girl wanted sympathy she
could find it in my eyes, but she would resent pity. I praised Mrs. Bal,
and found that I'd struck the right note.
"Yes!" Barrie exclaimed. "Isn't mother--I mean Barbara--gloriously
beautiful? She wants me to call her Barbara, and I shall love it. I
shall love to do whatever she wants me to do, I'm sure, because she's
such a darling. Everybody must want to do what she wants them to do,
whether it's right or wrong--though she wouldn't want anything she
_thought_ wrong, of course. Just fancy, she's given me heaps of pretty
things. I begged her not, but she would make me take them--a string of
pearls, and this ring--my very first!" (How I wish that I had put her
"very first" ring--or kiss--on the finger she displayed!) "And two
bangles--and she's going to pay back Sir S.--I mean Mr. Somerled" (so
she has her own name for him!)--"the money he lent me for my father's
brooch. Barbara doesn't want the brooch. I'm to keep it. And she says
she'll give me an allowance--but she expects Grandma to leave me
everything in her will. _I_ don't--and I'd rather not, though
moth----Barbara thinks I shall some day be quite well off. I fancied we
were very poor, but Barbara says Grandma must have got back nearly all
that was lost, by saving."
I guess that the girl was making talk to show me how well satisfied she
was with everything; but whenever she met my eyes she looked away, to
interest herself in some photograph or ornament.
In less than the promised fifteen minutes Mrs. Bal appeared again, very
lovely and ridiculously young in a short blue serge dress, with a turned
down collar that showed her firm white throat. I was allowed to remain
with Barrie while "Barbara" went up to see my sister; and the ice being
broken between us, we chatted comfortably of everyday things, I
unreasonably happy because I had got in ahead of Somerled for once. It
began to seem like a game of chess between us; I--directed by
Aline--playing against Somerled. If Aline upstairs were at this minute
making the move she planned, it would be check to his queen, Barrie of
course being queen.
The only questions I ventured to ask the girl, and those in a casual
way, were, "Had she heard from or seen Somerled since yesterday
afternoon? And what was the programme for her, during this week of the
new play in Edinburgh?"
Her answers were that she had neither seen nor heard from Somerled, and
that she didn't know what she was to do during the week. She hoped to
see something of Edinburgh. She supposed we--and Mr. Somerled--would
soon be leaving for the west or north. But she had written Mr. Douglas,
by Barbara's request, and he was very nice. He might be counted on to
show her things. He was invited to call this afternoon with his cousin.
Jack Morrison had written asking to come too, and Barbara said that he
might do so--bringing his three friends. She--Barrie--must be very, very
careful always to say "Barbara" and never--the _other_. She could
_quite_ understand now how the darling felt, though it had seemed queer
at first.
By and by Mrs. Bal returned, and I saw by the light in her eyes and the
colour on her cheeks that the conversation with Aline had been
interesting. Hardly had she arrived and begun demanding from her various
maids various things wanted at the theatre, when Somerled sent up to beg
a moment's talk with her.
"Tell the gentleman I shall be delighted," she said to the hotel
servant: and I saw that she was smiling the impish smile which Barrie
has inherited.
"So glad you came before I got away!" she exclaimed, shaking hands with
Somerled. "Five minutes more and I should have missed you. I'm due at
the theatre now. The poor wretches are rehearsing without me, but I must
turn up for a scene, at eleven!"
"I won't keep you five minutes," said Somerled, quietly. "I only want to