The Queen's Scarlet Part 24

A few minutes after he was ushered into the handsomely-furnished rooms which formed the lieutenant's quarters; and he felt a pang shoot through him for the moment as the piano in one corner, and some music and a flute upon the table, recalled his own rooms at Draycott's.

But his thoughts were back directly to his troubles, and he felt a kind of momentary relief on finding that there was no one in the sitting-room.

"I'll go and tell him you're here," said the man who had fetched him, and he lifted a curtain, caught his foot against a fold, stumbled, and drove his head with a crash against the panel of the door beyond. Then, as the curtain fell behind him, d.i.c.k heard, in smothered tones:--

"I had you out of the ranks, Joe Todd, for my servant; I don't want a battering-ram."

"Beg pardon, sir. Haxident."

"Accident! That's the third time you have done it within a week. Torn the curtain?"

"No, sir; don't think so. Hurt my head."

"I don't believe it, Joe. A wooden door could not hurt your head! You may have cracked the panel!"

"No, sir; all right, sir."

"Then take those clothes and brush them again. The trousers have mud-splashes as high as the knees. And take those boots, too; I can't wear them like that."

The man came out of the inner room with a portion of his master's uniform under his arm and a pair of boots, swinging by the tags, one of which badly-cleaned articles he dropped in trying to open the outer door, the handle of which d.i.c.k turned for him, so that he could pa.s.s out.

As d.i.c.k closed the door he was conscious of a rustling behind him, and he turned smartly, to find himself face to face with the great lieutenant, gorgeous now in shawl-pattern smoking-trousers and purple velvet lounging-coat.

"Now for it!" he thought.

"And you might have been an officer," said the lieutenant, shaking his head at d.i.c.k sadly, while all the blood in the lad's body seemed to run to his heart.

"I--I beg your pardon, sir," faltered d.i.c.k, as he began to think that he would have to get away again, and then recalled the fact that he could not without being looked upon as a deserter.

"I said 'And you might have been an officer.'"

"Yes," said d.i.c.k bitterly, and turning and speaking as he felt that he was driven to bay.

"I'm glad you feel it," said the lieutenant, letting himself sink down into a lounge.

"I do, sir--bitterly," replied d.i.c.k.

"If I were not as patient as a lamb, I should have kicked him out of the place a year ago. Of course, it didn't matter before you, but it might have been the colonel or the major; and, though there is a way out through my bedroom, that blundering a.s.s must bring my boots and clothes through my sitting-room!"

d.i.c.k felt as if he had been respited after condemnation, and began to breathe freely.

"You heard him run his head against the door, of course?"

"Yes, sir."

"But it wouldn't break; everything else does. He'll ruin me before he has done.--I have sent for you, Smithson," said the lieutenant, "because I want you to give me some lessons on the flute."

"Oh, with pleasure, sir," began d.i.c.k. "I--I beg your pardon, sir. Of course, if you wish it."

"I hope it will be with pleasure, Smithson," said the lieutenant, smiling; "but I'm afraid it will not be; for, between ourselves, I am very dull over music."

"I used to think I was, sir," said d.i.c.k; "but I worked hard till I could play a bit."

"A bit!" said the lieutenant, smiling. "Ah, well, I won't flatter you.

I should like you to come often and play with me--duets and pieces. The fact is, Smithson, I want to perform something in--in--in public one evening--a duet. I have been thinking that I might play the first part and you the second. What do you think?"

"I think the same as you do, sir," said d.i.c.k. "When would you like to begin?"

"Well, the fact is, Smithson, I am rather pressed for time."

"I will come in at any hour you appoint, sir--that is, if there is no band practice."

"Oh, the colonel will speak to Wilkins about that, Smithson; but you do not understand me. I have plenty of time, but I am pressed--anxious to play a duet or two as soon as possible."

"I understand, sir," said d.i.c.k, scanning the handsome face and athletic mould of the young officer, as the feeling grew upon him that the former was what some people would call rather mild; "but I am no teacher, would you like Mr Wilkins to give you some lessons?"

"No, Smithson," said the lieutenant; "that I really should not. I want you, and I want you to treat all this as confidential."

"But it is sure to be known, sir."

"That you are giving me lessons, yes; but not the style of lesson. When could you begin?"

d.i.c.k glanced at the flute.

"Would you like a lesson now, sir?"

"Yes, exactly; but you have no instrument."

"But you have, sir; and I could help you better without."

"I'm afraid not, Smithson. You see, I should want to hear the air played at the same time."

"I could run that through as an accompaniment on the piano."

"You could?" cried the lieutenant, staring.

"Well enough, perhaps, for that, sir."

"Then, let's begin at once."

"Have you selected an air, sir?"

"Well--er--yes," faltered the great fellow. "I have--er--chosen two-- duets. Here they are."

He handed the music, and d.i.c.k took it up, glancing at each piece in turn; while the young officer looked warm and uncomfortable, watching his visitor uneasily.

"'Flow on, thou s.h.i.+ning River;' 'Oh, Happy, Happy Fair!'" read d.i.c.k.

"Both beautiful melodies;" and, taking the former, he crossed to the piano and ran through the melody, and then the accompaniment, with plenty of expression; while the lieutenant sat upon his chair with his eyes glistening from excitement.