More about Pixie Part 10

Pixie craned forward and examined her head with sorrowful candour.

"It _is_ thin! Ye can see the scalp s.h.i.+ning through like shot silk.

You'll look like an old man with a bald head; but never mind! Think of the saving in the morning! It will be so easy to do your hair!"

There was a burst of laughter from brothers and sisters, while Sylvia covered her face with her hands and rocked to and fro in mock despair.

"You need never be unduly elated by a compliment from Pixie, Miss Trevor," said Geoffrey Hilliard meaningly. "She is the most transparently truthful person I ever encountered, and favoured me with several character sketches of my wife before we were engaged, which might have warned me of my fate if I'd been a sensible fellow. I have remembered them, Pixie, many a time since then, and I'm glad to find your foreign experiences have not affected your candour. There's another thing that is not much altered, so far as I can hear--and that's your brogue, my dear! It sounds to me almost as p.r.o.nounced as in the old days when you were running wild at Knock."

"But it's got a French accent to it now--that's better than Englis.h.!.+"

cried Pixie eagerly. "I was learning to speak quite elegantly in Surbiton, but Therese wouldn't listen to a word of English out of my mouth, and if you'll believe me, me dears, my very dreams are in French the last few months. There was a _jeune fille_ in Paris who used to promenade with us sometimes for the benefit of hearing me talk English.

She said the words didn't sound the same way as when they taught them to her at school. _Helas le miserable_! The brogue of her put shame on me own before I came away."

The shoulders went up again, and a roguish smile lit up the little face.

Bridgie watched it with rapt, adoring eyes; her Pixie, her baby, was now a big girl, almost grown-up, transformed from the forlorn-looking elf to a natty little personage, more like the pictures of _jeunes filles_ on the back of French pattern plates than she could have believed possible for Irish flesh and blood. Imitative Pixie had caught "the air," and the good Therese had evidently taken immense pains with the costume in which her pupil should make her reappearance in the family circle.

Bridgie gazed at the buckled, high-heeled shoes peeping from beneath the flounces, and wondered if it could really be that they held the same little feet which used to patter about, b.u.t.tonless, and down at heel; she looked at the jaunty, outstanding bow which tied back the hair, and contrasted it with the wisp of ribbon twisted to the proportions of a tape, and knotted like a cat-o'-nine-tails, which used to bind together the straggly locks, and as she looked, she felt--shall it be confessed?--a pang of longing and regret for the days that were no more.

It pa.s.sed in a moment, for whatever her external appearance might be, Pixie was transparently the same at heart, and quick to note the faintest shadow on the face of the dear mother-sister. She swung round to face Bridgie, the grey eyes bent upon her in earnest scrutiny.

They saw something written there that had not been visible two years before--the outward marks of an inward, and very bitter struggle, and Bridgie flushed beneath the scrutiny of that clear-seeing, childlike gaze, and trembled at the thought of what was to come.

"Has anyone been unkind to ye, Bridgie?" asked Pixie in deep, full- throated tones. She put up her hand and stroked the soft cheek with a tenderness of pitying love which was more eloquent than words. "There are dips in your cheeks, like Miss Minnitt's when she was getting over the fever, and your eyes look tired. What has happened to worry ye, me dear, and take the colour out of your face?"

"She has enough colour to satisfy you at the moment, hasn't she?" Jack said, laughing, and Pixie nodded with ruthless candour.

"Because she is blus.h.i.+ng. What are you blus.h.i.+ng for, you silly girl?

It isn't as if I had asked about a heart affair. The girls in France were always talking of heart affairs, and asking if you were _fiancee_.

They thought you were very old, and must be going to _coif_ Saint Catherine. That means that you are going to be an old maid. I said yes, of course you were, because you were needed at home. Esmeralda was no use, but we could not get on without Bridgie!"

"You miserable, ungrateful child! This is my reward for all I have done for you!" declaimed Esmeralda with dramatic emphasis, but Bridgie's face lit up with a smile of whole-hearted satisfaction.

Thank G.o.d! Whatever her personal disappointment might be, she could never feel that she was alone in the world--that among all its teeming millions there was no human being whose happiness depended upon her presence; she had been spared that worst trial to a woman's heart, and Pixie's calm taking-for-granted that she was indispensable to the family circle was the greatest comfort which she could have given.

"No, I shan't leave you, darling. I have too much to do looking after you and those three big boys, and when you fly away to nests of your own, Sylvia and I have all sorts of plans for enjoying ourselves together. I have promised faithfully to wheel her about in her Bath- chair."

"And I will make your caps. I'm clever at millinery," said Sylvia, pretending not to hear Jack's murmurs of protest, and looking very pretty and animated as she sat erect in her chair and gesticulated with her thin little hands. "You shall have one with pearl dangles for high days and holidays, and nice, stiff little black bows for ordinary wear.

We will knit socks and mittens, and play cribbage in the evening, and talk over the days of our youth. It's almost a pity we know each other now, for we shan't be able to romance as much as we would like!"

"Perhaps the romance will come in in some other way! Perhaps a husband may interfere with the claims of Saint Catherine!" said Geoffrey, putting into words the language of Jack's eyes, and everybody stared at Sylvia's face with embarra.s.sing curiosity.

"I shall never marry!" she said obstinately. Not that she meant it in the least, for she did not, but she was one of the girls who foolishly think it the right thing to protest in public, and who are mistaken enough to feel a trifle ashamed of the natural womanly longing for someone to love and to protect them, which G.o.d Himself has put in their hearts. A few girls there may be who honestly mean such a decision, but they are very few indeed, while their hearers are invariably sceptical.

Not one of the O'Shaughnessys seemed in the least impressed by Sylvia's disclaimer, and it was disconcerting to hear Pixie's sympathetic, "Did no one ever ask ye? Never mind! They may still. You are not so very old!"

Sylvia made up her mind there and then that it was better to say exactly what one meant in the presence of Miss Pixie O'Shaughnessy!

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

ESMERALDA CHECKMATED.

Three days after Christmas, Esmeralda and her husband returned to Ireland, scattering invitations, severally and in bulk, to all the inhabitants of Number Three, Rutland Road. Even Sylvia found herself invited for a long visit, and was the more surprised at this mark of favour because Mrs Hilliard's demeanour towards her was tinged with jealousy and uneasy suspicion. She was willing enough to play Lady Bountiful, present offerings of fruit and flowers, and be gus.h.i.+ngly sympathetic, but she liked to monopolise the whole attention of her sisters, and was not well pleased when they in their turn hung about the invalid's couch. She had not been an hour in the same room, moreover, before she had intercepted one of Jack's most melting glances, and the stare of the great grey eyes left no doubt as to the disapproval with which she viewed the flirtation.

Sylvia's annoyance converted her into a very hedgehog of dignity, and the p.r.i.c.kly quills kept the young fellow at such a distance that he lost faith in his own fascinations for the first and only time in his career.

He bade Esmeralda an affectionate farewell, but was in truth well resigned to her departure--a fact which she was quite sharp enough to discover.

"Jack is pleased that I am going away!" she said to Bridgie as the two sisters sat together for the last confidential chat. "He knows that I watch him flirting with Sylvia Trevor, and thinks he will get on better without me. You really ought to be careful, Bridgie, and not let them be too much together!"

"Does he flirt with her? Not more than he does with every other girl,"

said Bridgie leniently. "I don't see why I should worry myself about it. Sylvia is a sensible girl, who is not given to fancying that every man is in love with her, and Jack is just a dear, soft-hearted boy, who can't help making pretty speeches, but he would never make serious love if he did not mean it, and if he did--well, why not Sylvia as well as anyone else?"

But Mrs Geoffrey Hilliard was not to be so easily appeased. She threw back her haughty head, lowered languid eyelids, and drawled out--

"My dear Bridgie, remember whom you are speaking about! Jack is the head of the family--he's O'Shaughnessy of Knock! Eventually, as we hope and believe, he will go back to take up his own position, and, thanks to Geoff, the property will be in a very different condition from what it was when he left. He must make a marriage which will be a help, not a hindrance. And who is she? Answer me that! What do you know about her?"

"She is a dear girl! She is very attractive! Her father is abroad.

She lives with an old aunt."

"Exactly! A pleasant girl in a London suburb!" Esmeralda's voice was full of ineffable condescension. "There are thousands of them, and no doubt they are charming in their way, but not for Jack. He owes a duty to the family as well as himself, and you ought to tell him as much.

You really ought, Bridgie! Speak to him at once, before it goes too far!"

"Suppose you speak to him yourself! When you are so hot upon it, it's a pity to leave it to me."

"No, I'd rather not. Jack is so stupid about taking advice. He would snap my nose off if I said anything."

"I really don't see why my nose is not as valuable as yours! Why should I do your disagreeable work for you?" retorted Bridgie with spirit.

"You did not know that Geoffrey was a rich man when you promised to marry him, and it's the last thing I would think of myself, so why should we expect any more of Jack? I am not going to interfere, whatever happens, and if you take my advice you won't mention Sylvia's name to him!"

"I don't intend to, but--"

Esmeralda shut her lips tightly over an unspoken determination. There are more ways than one of nipping in the bud an incipient love affair, but she did not care about confiding her latest inspiration to any hearer, least of all to Bridgie, who would have given up her most cherished plans rather than hurt the feelings of a fellow-creature. She changed the subject, and talked lightly on impersonal topics until the moment of parting drew near, when there came a sudden softening over the beautiful face, and she said in gentle, diffident tones--

"I didn't like to ask before, but I can't leave without knowing, darling. Have you heard?"

Bridgie shook her head mutely, and the lines which Pixie had noticed deepened round her eyes and mouth, but the eyes smiled still--a brave, steady smile.

"I never shall hear now, Joan. I've made up my mind to that."

"I don't know how you bear it! I can't think how you manage to be so composed and cheerful! If Geoff had treated me like that, it would have soured me for life. You were never sour from the first, and now you seem quite happy. Yet, as Pixie says, you have a pathetic look which shows that you have not really forgotten. You still care, Bridgie dear?"

"I shall always care," said Bridgie quietly. "There's an ache at the back of my heart, but there are so many things at the front that it gets crowded out. Besides, you know, Esmeralda darling, I don't want to seem to praise myself, but it's a trouble which G.o.d has sent me, and I ask Him every night to help me to bear it in the right way. It wouldn't be the right way to let the shadow of it darken other lives besides my own.

If I moped and grizzled, everyone in the house would be uncomfortable, and they have their own worries, poor creatures, without suffering for mine! I made an excellent rule for my own benefit--to laugh downstairs and cry in my own room, and it answers beautifully, for I'm so tired when I get to bed that I've no sooner begun repining than I wake up and find it's morning. You try it, dear, when you've got a worry. You'll find it splendid!"

Esmeralda shook her head.

"Not for me! What I feel I must show, and sooner than I feel it, if that is possible. If I tried to bottle up my feelings it would make me ill, and the explosion would be all the greater when it did come. My only chance is to get it over as soon as possible, but in your case it is a long slow suspense, which is worse than any definite trouble. You are an angel, dear, to bear it as you do! It's mysterious that it should have come to you and not me, for you didn't need discipline, and I, who was always the naughty one, have got all that I want--Geoffrey, and home, and the dear little boy. You must come soon, Bridgie, to see the boy. He will be getting teeth and all sorts of luxuries, and his G.o.dmother ought to be there to look after him."

Esmeralda rose and strolled over to the gla.s.s to arrange her hat and pin on a filmy veil. "I must go downstairs now, and say good-bye to Miss Trevor. Don't hurry, dear, if you have anything to do. We don't leave for a quarter of an hour still."