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Muslin

<h2 id="id00560" style="margin-top: 4em">XI</h2> 'Goodness me! Alice; how can you remain up here all alone, and by that smouldering fire? Why don't you come downstairs? Papa says he is quite satisfied with the first part of the tune, but the second won't come right; and, as mamma had a lot to say to Lord Dungory, I and Captain Hibbert sat out in the passage together. He told me he liked the way I arrange my hair. Do tell me, dear, if you think it suits me?' 'Very well, indeed; but what else did Captain Hibbert say to you?' 'Well, I'll tell you something,' replied Olive, suddenly turning from the glass. 'But first promise not to tell anyone. I don't know what I should do if you did. You promise?' 'Yes, I promise.' 'If you look as serious as that I shall never be able to tell you. It is very wicked, I know, but I couldn't help myself. He put his arm round my waist and kissed me. Now don't scold, I won't be scolded,' the girl said, as she watched the cloud gathering on her sister's face. 'Oh! you don't know how angry I was. I cried, I assure you I did, and I told him he had disgraced me. I couldn't say more than that, could I, now? and he promised never to do it again. It was the first time a man ever kissed me—I was awfully ashamed. No one ever attempted to kiss you, I suppose; nor can I fancy their trying, for your cross face would soon frighten them; but I can't look serious.' 'And did he ask you to marry him?' 'Oh! of course, but I haven't told mamma, for she is always talking to me about Lord Kilcarney—the little marquis, as she calls him; but I couldn't have him. Just fancy giving up dear Edward! I assure you I believe he would kill himself if I did. He has often told me I am the only thing worth living for.' Alice looked at her beautiful sister questioningly, her good sense telling her that, if Olive was not intended for him, it was wrong to allow her to continue her flirtation. But for the moment the consideration of her own misfortunes absorbed her. Was there nothing in life for a girl but marriage, and was marriage no more than a sensual gratification; did a man seek nothing but a beautiful body that he could kiss and enjoy? Did a man's desires never turn to mating with one who could sympathize with his hopes, comfort him in his fears, and united by that most profound and penetrating of all unions—that of the soul—be collaborator in life's work? 'Could no man love as she did?' She was ready to allow that marriage owned a material as well as a spiritual aspect, and that neither could be overlooked. Some, therefore, though their souls were as beautiful as the day, were, from purely physical causes, incapacitated from entering into the marriage state. Cecilia was such a one. 'Now what are you thinking about, Alice?' 'I do not know, nothing in particular; one doesn't know always of what one is thinking! Tell me what they are saying downstairs.' 'But I have told you; that Captain Hibbert preferred my hair like this, and I asked you if you thought he was right, but you hardly looked.' 'Yes, I did, Olive; I think the fashion suits you.' 'You won't tell anybody that I told you he kissed me? Oh, I had forgotten about Lord Rosshill; he has been fired at. Lord Dungory returned from Dublin, and he brought the evening paper with him. It is full of bad news.' 'What news?' Alice asked, with a view to escaping from wearying questions; and Olive told her a bailiff's house had been broken into by an armed gang. 'They dragged him out of his bed and shot him in the legs before his own door. And an attempt has been made to blow up a landlord's house with dynamite. And in Queen's County shots have been fired through a dining-room window—now, what else? I am telling you a lot; I don't often remember what is in the paper. No end of hayricks were burnt last week, and some cattle have had their tails cut off, and a great many people have been beaten. Lord Dungory says he doesn't know how it will all end unless the Government bring in a Coercion Act. What do you think, Alice?' Alice dropped some formal remarks, and Olive hoped that the state of the country would not affect the Castle's season. She didn't know which of the St. Leonard girls would be married first. She asked Alice to guess. Alice said she couldn't guess, and fell to thinking that nobody would ever want to marry her. It was as if some instinct had told her, and she could not drive the word 'celibacy' out of her ears. It seemed to her that she was fichue à jamais, as that odious Lord Dungory would say. She did not remember that she had ever been so unhappy before, and it seemed to her that she would always be unhappy, fichue à jamais. But to her surprise she awoke in a more cheerful mood, and when she came down to breakfast Mr. Barton raised his head from the newspaper and asked her if she had heard that Lord Rosshill had been fired at. 'Yes, father. Olive told me so overnight;' and the conversation turned on her headache, and then on the state of Ireland. Mrs. Barton asked if this last outrage would prove sufficient to force the Government to pass a new Coercion Bill. 'I wish they would put me at the head of an army,' Mr. Barton said, whose thoughts had gone back to his picture—Julius Caesar overturning the Altars of the Druids. 'Papa would look fine leading the landlords against the tenants dressed in Julius Caesar's big red cloak!' cried Mrs. Barton, turning back as she glided out of the room, already deep in consideration of what Milord would like to eat for luncheon and the gown she would wear that afternoon. Mr. Barton threw the newspaper aside and returned to his studio; and in the girls' room Olive and Barnes, the bland, soft smiling maid, began their morning gossip. Whatever subject was started it generally wound round to Captain Hibbert. Alice had wearied of his name, but this morning she pricked up her ears. She was surprised to hear her sister say she had forbidden him ever to visit the Lawlers. At that moment the dull sound of distant firing broke the stillness of the snow. 'I took good care to make Captain Hibbert promise not to go to this shooting-party the last time I saw him.' 'And what harm was there in his going to this shooting-party?' said Alice. 'What harm? I suppose, miss, you have heard what kind of woman Mrs. Lawler is? Ask Barnes,' 'You shouldn't talk in this way, Olive. We know well enough that Mrs. Lawler was not a lady before she married; but nothing can be said against her since.' 'Oh! can't there, indeed? You never heard the story about her and her steward? Ask Barnes.' 'Oh! don't miss; you shouldn't really!' said the maid. 'What will Miss Alice think?' 'Never mind what she thinks; you tell her about the steward and all the officers from Gort.' And then Mrs. Lawler's flirtations were talked of until the bell rang for lunch. Milord and Mrs. Barton had just passed into the dining-room, and Alice noticed that his eyes often wandered in the direction of the policemen walking up and down the terrace. He returned more frequently than was necessary to the attempt made on Lord Rosshill's life, and it was a long time before Mrs. Barton could persuade him to drop a French epigram. At last, in answer to her allusions to knights of old and la galanterie, the old lord could only say: 'L'amour est comme l'hirondelle; quand l'heure sonne, en dépit du danger, tous les deux partent pour les rivages célestes.' A pretty conceit; but Milord was not en veine that morning. The Land League had thrown its shadow over him, and it mattered little how joyously a conversation might begin, too soon a reference was made to Griffith's valuation, or the possibility of a new Coercion Act. In the course of the afternoon, however, much to the astonishment of Milord and Mrs. Barton in the drawing-room and the young ladies who were sitting upstairs doing a little needlework, a large family carriage, hung with grey trappings and drawn by two powerful bay horses, drove up to the hall-door. A gorgeous footman opened the door, and, with a momentary display of exquisite ankle, a slim young girl stepped out. 'I wonder,' said Mrs. Barton, 'that Mrs. Scully condescends to come out with anything less than four horses and outriders.' 'Elle veut acheter la distinction comme elle vendait du jambon—à faux poids,' said Lord Dungory. 'Yes, indeed; and to think that the woman we now receive as an equal once sold bacon and eggs behind a counter in Galway!' 'No, it was not she; it was her mother.' 'Well, she was hanging on to her mother's apron-strings at the time. You may depend upon it, this visit is not for nothing; something's in the wind.' A moment after, looking more large and stately than ever, Mrs. Scully sailed into the room. Mrs. Barton was delighted to see her. It was so good of her to come, and in such weather as this; and, after having refused lunch and referred to the snow and the horses' feet, Mrs. Scully consented to lay aside her muff and boa. The young ladies withdrew, when the conversation turned on the state of the county and Lord Rosshill's fortunate escape. As they ascended the stairs they stopped to listen to Mr. Barton, who was singing A che la morte. 'The Land League doesn't seem to affect Mr. Barton's spirits,' said Violet. 'What a beautiful voice he has!' 'Yes, and nobody designs pictures like papa; but he wouldn't study when he was young, and he says he hasn't time now on account of—' 'Now, Alice, for goodness' sake don't begin. I am sick of that Land League. From morning till night it is nothing but coercion and Griffith's valuation.' Violet and Alice laughed at Olive's petulance, and, opening a door, the latter said: 'This is our room, and it is the only one in the house where tenants, land, and rent are never spoken of.' 'That's something to know,' said Violet. 'I agree with Olive. If things are bad, talking of them won't make them any better.' Barnes rose from her seat. 'Now don't go, Barnes. Violet, this is Barnes, our maid.' There was about Barnes a false air of homeliness; but in a few moments it became apparent that her life had been spent amid muslins, confidences, and illicit conversations. Now, with motherly care she removed a tulle skirt from the table, and Violet, with quick, nervous glances, examined the room. In the middle of the floor stood the large work-table, covered with a red cloth. There was a stand with shelves, filled on one side with railway novels, on the other with worsted work, cardboard-boxes, and rags of all kinds. A canary-cage stood on the top, and the conversation was frequently interrupted by the piercing trilling of the little yellow bird. 'You're very comfortable. I should like to come and work here with you. I am sick of Fred's perpetual talk about horses; and if he isn't talking of them his conversation is so improper that I can't listen to it.' 'Why, what does he say?' said Olive, glancing at Barnes, who smiled benignly in the background. 'Oh, I couldn't repeat what he says! it's too dreadful. I have to fly from him. But he's always at the Goulds' now; he and May are having a great "case".' 'Oh yes, I know!' said Olive; 'they never left each other at our ball. Don't you remember?' 'Of course I do. And what a jolly ball that was! I never amused myself so much in my life. If the balls at the Castle are as good, they will do. But wasn't it sad, you know, about poor Lord Kilcarney receiving the news of his brother's murder just at that moment? I can see him now, rushing out of the room.' Violet's manner did not betoken in the least that she thought it sad, and after a pause she said: 'But you haven't shown me your dresses. I loved the one you wore at the ball.' 'Yes, yes: I must show you my cream-coloured dinner-dress, and my ruby dress, too. You haven't seen that either,' cried Olive. 'Come along, Barnes, come along.' 'But I see you use your bedroom, too, as a sitting-room?' she said, as she glanced at the illustrations in a volume of Dickens and threw down a volume of Shelley's poetry. 'Oh, that's this lady, here!' cried Olive. 'She says she cannot read in our room on account of my chattering, so she comes in here to continue her schooling. I should've thought that she had had enough of it; and she makes the place in such a mess with bits of paper. Barnes is always tidying up after her.' Alice laughed constrainedly, and taking the cream-coloured dress out of the maid's hands, Olive explained why it suited her. Violet had much to say concerning the pink trimming, and the maid referred to her late mistress's wardrobes. The ruby dress, however, drew forth many little cries of admiration. Then an argument was started concerning the colour of hair, and, before the glass with hairpins and lithe movements of the back and loins, the girls explained their favourite coiffures. 'But, Alice, you haven't opened your lips, and you haven't shown me your dresses.' 'Barnes will show you my dinner-frocks, but I don't think as much about what I wear as Olive does.' Violet quickly understood, but, with clever dissimulation, she examined and praised the black silk trimmed with red ribbons. 'She's angry because we didn't look at her dresses first,' Olive interjected; and Violet came to Alice's rescue with a question: 'Had they heard lately of Lord Kilcarney?' Olive protested that she would sooner die than accept such a little red-haired thing as that for a husband, and Violet laughed delightedly. 'Anyway, you haven't those faults to find with a certain officer, now stationed at Gort, who, if report speaks truly, is constantly seen riding towards Brookfield.' 'Well, what harm is there in that?' said Olive, for she did not feel quite sure in her mind if she should resent or accept the gracious insinuation. 'None whatever; I only wish such luck were mine. What with the weather, and papa's difficulties with his herdsmen and his tenants, we haven't seen a soul for the last month. I wish a handsome young officer would come galloping up our avenue some day.' Deceived, Olive abandoned herself to the plausive charm of Violet's manner, and at different times she spoke of her flirtation, and told many little incidents concerning it—what he had said to her, how she had answered him, and how, the last time they had met, he had expressed his sorrow at being unable to call to see her until the end of the week. 'He is shooting to-day at the Lawlers',' said Violet. 'That I'm sure he's not,' said Olive, with a triumphant toss of her fair head; 'for I forbade him to go there.' Violet smiled, and Olive insisted on an explanation being given. 'Well,' exclaimed the girl, more bluntly than she had yet spoken, 'because as we were coming here we saw him walking along one of the covers. There were a lot of gentlemen, and, just fancy, that dreadful woman, Mrs. Lawler, was with them, marching along, just like a man, and a gun under her arm.' 'I don't believe you; you only say that to annoy me,' cried Olive, trembling with passion. 'I am not in the habit of telling lies, and don't know why you should think I care to annoy you,' Violet replied, a little too definitely; and, unable to control her feelings any longer, Olive walked out of the room. Barnes folded up and put away the dresses, and Alice sought for words that would attenuate the unpleasantness of the scene. But Violet was the quicker with her tongue, and she poured out her excuses. 'I am so sorry,' she said, 'but how could I know that she objected to Captain Hibbert's shooting at the Lawlers', or that he had promised her not to go there? I am very sorry, indeed.' 'Oh I it doesn't matter,' said Alice hesitatingly. 'You know how excitable Olive is. I don't think she cares more about Captain Hibbert than anyone else; she was only a little piqued, you know—the surprise, and she particularly dislikes the Lawlers. Of course, it is very unpleasant for us to live so near without being able to visit them.' 'Yes, I understand. I am very sorry. Do you know where she is gone? I shouldn't like to go away without seeing her.' 'I am afraid she has shut herself up in her room. Next time you meet, she'll have forgotten all about it.' Elated, but at the same time a little vexed, Violet followed Alice down to the drawing-room. 'My dear child, what a time you have been! I thought you were never coming downstairs again,' said Mrs. Scully. 'Now, my dear Mrs. Barton, we really must. We shall meet again, if not before, at the Castle.' Then stout mother and thin daughter took their leave; but the large carriage, with its sumptuous grey trappings, had not reached the crest of the hill when, swiftly unlocking her door, Olive rushed to Barnes for sympathy. 'Oh the spiteful little cat!' she exclaimed. 'I know why she said that; she's jealous of me. You heard her say she hadn't a lover. I don't believe she saw Edward at all, but she wanted to annoy me. Don't you think so, Barnes?' 'I'm sure she wanted to annoy you, miss. I could see it in her eyes. She has dreadful eyes—those cold, grey, glittering things. I could never trust them. And she hasn't a bit on her bones. I don't know if you noticed, miss, that when you were counting your petticoats she was ashamed of her legs? There isn't a bit on them; and I saw her look at yours, miss.' 'Did you really? She's like a rail; and as spiteful as she's lean. At school nothing made her so angry as when anyone else was praised; and you may be sure that jealousy brought her here. She heard how Captain Hibbert admired me, and so came on purpose to annoy me.' 'You may be sure it was that, miss,' said Barnes, as she bustled about, shutting and opening a variety of cardboard boxes. For a moment the quarrel looked as if it were going to end here; but in Olive's brain thoughts leaped as quickly back as forward, and she startled Barnes by declaring wildly that, if Edward had broken his promise to her, she would never speak to him again. 'I don't believe that Violet would have dared to say that she saw him if it weren't true.' 'Well, miss, a shooting-party's but a shooting-party, and there was a temptation, you know. A gentleman who is fond of sport—' 'Yes; but it isn't for the shooting he is gone. 'Tis for Mrs. Lawler. I know it is.' 'Not it, miss. Always admitting that he is there, how could he think of Mrs. Lawler when he's always thinking of you? And, besides, out in the snow, too. Now, I wouldn't say anything if the weather was fine—like we had last June—and they giving each other meetings out in the park—' 'But what did you tell me about the steward, and how Mrs. Lawler fell in love with all the young men who come to her house? And what did the housemaid tell you of the walking about the passages at night and into each other's rooms? Oh, I must know if he's there!' 'I'll find out in the morning, miss. The coachman is sure to know who was at the shooting-party.' 'In the morning! It will be too late then! I must know this evening!' exclaimed Olive, as she walked about the room, her light brain now flown with jealousy and suspicion. 'I'll write him a letter,' she said suddenly, 'and you must get someone to take it over.' 'But there's nobody about. Why, it is nearly seven o'clock,' said Barnes, who had begun to realize the disagreeableness and danger of the adventure she was being rapidly drawn into. 'If you can't, I shall go myself,' cried Olive, as she seized some paper and a pencil belonging to Alice, and sat down to write a note: 'DEAR CAPTAIN HIBBERT, 'If you have broken your promise to me about not going to the Lawlers' I shall never be able to forgive you!' (Then, as through her perturbed mind the thought gleamed that this was perhaps a little definite, she added): 'Anyhow, I wish to see you. Come at once, and explain that what I have heard about you is not true. I cannot believe it. 'Yours ever and anxiously, 'OLIVE BARTON.' 'Now somebody must take this over at once to the Lawlers.' 'But, miss, really at this hour of night, too, I don't know of anyone to send! Just think, miss, what would your ma say?' 'I don't care what mamma says. It would kill me to wait till morning! Somebody must go. Why can't you go yourself? It isn't more than half a mile across the fields. You won't refuse me, will you? Put on your hat, and go at once.' 'And what will the Lawlers say when they hear of it, miss? and I am sure that if Mrs. Barton ever hears of it she will—' 'No, no, she won't! for I could not do without you, Barnes. You have only to ask if Captain Hibbert is there, and, if he is there, send the letter up, and wait for an answer. Now, there's a dear! now do go at once. If you don't, I shall go mad! Now, say you will go, or give me the letter. Yes, give it to me, and I'll go myself. Yes, I prefer to go myself.' <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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