The Pillars of the House Part 102

'No,' she said, 'we must be patient. For him to remain in the Life- guards would be madness. but a few years at Mr. Brown's, with the interest he already has in the business, will open a career to him.'

'And I can run down every Sunday,' said Ferdinand. 'It is her determination; I suppose she is right, Felix, but I wish-- If I could wish her otherwise, she should be less prudent!'

'I cannot see that she has any right to ask it of you,' indignantly exclaimed Felix.

But he found this was putting his head into a hornet's nest.

Ferdinand would not have contested her right to send him down among the lions, and would never have given her back her troth, like Knight Des Lorges. No, he hotly contended that Alda had a perfect right to make her own terms, and still more hotly, though most inconsistently, that to work at Peter Brown's was his own free choice.

It was incontestable that a South American merchant's career offered more possibilities of rising into opulence and consideration than the proprietors.h.i.+p of a country paper; and though Felix privately doubted whether desk-work would suit Ferdinand half as well as the work where he himself could have contributed wits, he could say no more.

Ferdinand was greatly disappointed; but there was no sacrifice that he would not make, and persist in with his silent Spanish perseverance, for Alda's sake. Indeed, he could not bear not to begin at once. He would return at once to his regiment, send in his papers, and dispose of his horses and equipments, making arrangements with Peter Brown to enter his house. He seemed to be in a fever till the matter was in train, and was entirely past remonstrance. And Felix recognised that the lovers must act for themselves, and could only feel thoroughly vexed with Alda, and equally vexed with himself for the consternation with which he thought of having her at home three years longer!

It was the next evening; and not only had Alda's own lover departed, but Captain Harewood was missing, and with him Lance, and the only explanation was from Bernard, that they were gone to Minsterham. No doubt Wilmet was sensible of a blank when she came home, though she would not allow it, and stoutly defended her Captain's right of going where and when he pleased without notice. She had to fight his battles, till late in the evening he walked in. 'Here we are! It is later than I expected.'

'Where's Lance?'

'He came in with me. Gone to his room, then.--Here, Geraldine, this little gentleman requests the honour of your leaning on him.'

'Oh, what a beauty! What a dear little ivory monster! Turbaned head, serpent's tail, and such a fascinating face!'

'Is the cane the right length! I measured yours.'

'You don't mean that he is for me! So smooth and so steady! Where does he come from?'

'From Benares--I bought him at the great fair; and from the moment I saw you, it was plain that in the eternal fitness of things he was destined to you.'

'To make a Pagan of her,' said Felix. 'See her wors.h.i.+pping her little idol!'

'Not my idol, but my prop and companion for life.'

'Your Lord Gerald, laughed Felix, as she walked triumphantly round the room, perhaps her first unnecessary promenade since she was seven years old.

'This is just the time I didn't expect you,' said Wilmet; 'is the seven o'clock train put on again?'

'We didn't come by the train.' And Felix and Cherry smiled at one another as they detected that Wilmet's economical soul was vexed. 'I wanted Lance to see his doctor again, and the railway seems so bad for his head that I drove.'

'How very kind!' exclaimed Wilmet.

'I am afraid I have not managed it well. I would not make an appointment, lest it should be a glaring day; so Manby was out, and we could only leave a message before going to the precincts. Lance was in wild spirits, and the boys gave him such an uproarious welcome, that old Canon Burley sent in to know what was the matter, and was told it was only little Underwood come back. He dined with us, but I am afraid I was off guard, for I never thought of his going and taking a place in the Cathedral.'

'I should think not!' said Wilmet, 'except that it is in the nature of boys to be provoking, even about church-going. Then it has knocked him up.'

'He was forced to come out in the Psalms; and Poulter, one of the lay-vicars, got anxious about him, and went after him when the Lesson began, found him with his head down on the table in the sacristy, and thought he had fainted, but he was only crying and entirely done up.

Manby came just as Poulter brought him in, and gave him a proper good lecture.'

'A very good thing,' said Wilmet, 'if one could only get him to believe there is any need of care when his head is not actually painful. What did Mr. Manby think of him?'

'He says he is as well as could reasonably be hoped--quite recovered from the fever; but the sun-stroke was as severe as any he has seen in England, and coming on the top of all that overwork, both study and music, it has left an amount of irritability and excitability of brain that must not be trifled with. He made poor Lance confess all the little experiments he has been trying on himself, and ordered him to leave off whatever he is about at the first threatening of dizziness or pain.'

'Then there's not much chance of his going back?'

'Not before Christmas at soonest. One would think the poor little fellow must have been aware of that; but the verdict cut him up very much. I thought he had better be quiet till the heat of the day was past, so he lay on my bed till six o'clock, and then he said he was better, but he hardly spoke all the way home.'

Wilmet went at once to see after him, and found him already in bed; but whether sleepy, suffering, or sorrowful, she could not make out, for he hid his eyes from the candle, and only muttered 'No, thank you,' in reply to whatever she offered, till she yielded to his evident longing for darkness and silence.

He was up and about in the morning; but when at noon Bernard rushed in from school, he was neither in the drawing-room, garden, nor office, and the door of his--or rather Mr. Froggatt's--bedroom was locked. Bernard bounced at it, calling, 'Let me in, I say; I'll not make a row.'

'There aren't any more of you?' parleyed Lance.

'No! Let me in, I say!'--kicking at the panels--'I must speak to you!'

'I'm coming; hold your din!' And Lance revealed himself without coat or boots.

'Holloa--how dark! You were never asleep? I came, because one can never catch you without a string of girls and babies after you.'

'Cut on,' said Lance resignedly, shaking up his horse-hair pillow: while Bernard seated himself on the table, and in the half-light of the shuttered room began to disentangle some knotted twine.

'Did you come here to do that?' said Lance, wanting to finish his nap, and chiefly restrained by the trouble of the thing from kicking the intruder out.

'Only, I say, Lance, have you any tin?'

'Not the valley of a bra.s.s farthing!' (The last pence of the Vale Leston sovereign had gone into Stella's jam.)

'Wouldn't Felix give you some?'

'I don't know.' (Very gruffly.)

'I wish you'd ask.'

'You have as many tongues as I.'

'Well, you see Felix is not half a bad fellow for one's governor, but he doesn't know what's what; and Sims says he'll go to him if I don't come down with something before to-morrow.'

'Sims! Sims in Smoke-jack Alley? Is that your sort?' demanded Lance, in ineffable disgust.

'He's been keeping a dog for me,' said Bernard sulkily.

'A dog!' Lance sat up in astonishment immeasurable.

'Yes. Its the thing, and no mistake,' said Bernard eagerly.

'His name is Stingo; only we are not quite sure whether he is a bull- terrier or a short-haired King Charles.'

Lance dropped back, wriggling in suppressed convulsions, as he demanded, 'Where did you steal this unmistakeable animal?'

'I bought him,' said Bernard, with a certain magnificence intended to be overawing.

'Then where did you steal the money!'

'Travis,' said Bernard, who considered Christian names unworthy of male lips. 'He always used to tip me a sovereign, and Ben Bowyer, the dog-fancier, said Stingo was worth thirty s.h.i.+llings any day, only he let me have him for eight and six, because he wanted to sell off his stock.'