It May Be True Volume I Part 12

"What hopeless confusion, Miss Strickland," said Mr. Vavasour, advancing a step, as he pa.s.sed by. "Is this your doing, Hall?" and he laughed, while Frances's eyes flashed with mortification and anger.

"I am afraid so," replied he quietly. "The fact is Miss Strickland enlisted my services, without making the least enquiry as to my capabilities, hence this unfortunate failure. But I have resigned the post I have filled so badly; will you take my place and do better?"

"I am very sorry to refuse, but I have promised to have a game of billiards with Strickland, and the time's up," said he, looking at his watch. "Many thanks to you all the same, my dear fellow, for making me the offer of such a Penelope's web to unravel." And he pa.s.sed on. Mr.

Hall followed.

"Tiresome, abominable man!" exclaimed Frances, gathering up the wool apparently hopelessly entangled, and advancing towards the fire where still sat Mrs. Linchmore. "Is not that Mr. Hall too bad; just see what he has done--quite spoilt my skein."

"How was it managed?" asked Mrs. Linchmore carelessly.

"I asked him to hold it; of course I ought to have known better, such a stupid creature as he is; his fingers are as awkward as his legs. I cannot think how it is you invite him here, unless it is to be in the way and make himself disagreeable; as in this instance."

"Disagreeable! You are the first person, Frances, I ever heard apply that epithet to Mr. Hall; no one ever thinks of him, and had you left him alone, it would not have happened."

"I know that; but I took compa.s.sion on him; you and Mr. Vavasour were so deeply engaged," she said maliciously; "you never gave him a thought, and because I did, this is my thanks. I shall be wiser for the future."

"As most people are. Learn wisdom, and yet commit foolish actions every day of their lives."

"Perhaps I shall be different from most people," and she commenced trying to disentangle the wool.

"A hopeless task," said Mrs. Linchmore, "only waste of time and temper; better let it alone, there are plenty of wools upstairs in my work basket; I have no doubt Mason will find you a match for this, if you ask her, you are most welcome to any I have," and she took up the book she had laid down, as a hint to Frances she wished the conversation to end.

So at least Frances thought, and left her alone, after first putting away the wool in the sofa table drawer.

But Mrs. Linchmore did not read, she laid the book carelessly in her lap, and was soon, apparently, deep in thought, from which she was only aroused by her husband's entrance; drawing a half sigh at the interruption, she took up her book again, and gave no reply to his greeting.

"I am afraid I have disturbed you, Isabella; you were dozing, were you not? or very nearly so."

"Never mind. It is almost time to dress for dinner." She shut up the book, and was rising, when he said,

"Do not move yet, Isabella; I came here to seek you; wis.h.i.+ng to have a few moments' conversation."

She looked at him enquiringly

"I have been thinking it would be as well if you wrote and invited Mrs.

Elrington to come and spend this Christmas with us."

"Mrs. Elrington!" cried she, in astonishment.

"Yes, I think it would be the right thing to do; nay, I am sure of it, and wonder it has never struck either of us before."

"It would be the last thing I should think of; as I am sure there is not the slightest use in asking her."

"Why not?"

"She would never come; but would send a refusal, perhaps not couched in very civil terms."

"I think you may be wrong. I hope so, at least. It is true she held aloof when we married, why, or wherefore, I never knew; and has continued estranged ever since; but surely her sending Miss Neville is a proof she might be conciliated; at all events, there can be no harm in attempting it."

"She will never be conciliated, never! Besides, why should she be; you surely are not at all anxious about it?"

"She brought you up, Isabella; was as a mother to you when you lost your own; surely you are in her debt for that, and owe her some kindness for all she bestowed on you."

"She has never taken the slightest notice of me during my ten years of married life; therefore, however deep my debt of grat.i.tude, I consider it to have been cancelled after so much neglect and coldness."

"But recollect the kindness that went before. You owe her some grat.i.tude and kindly feeling for that; however misjudging, or mistaken, she may be; at least, I think so."

"I cannot see it."

"I am sorry you do not, Isabella, and that I have failed in convincing you; little as I know of Mrs. Elrington," continued he, rather decidedly, "I cannot believe she, or indeed any woman, would bear malice so long, and not be anxious at some time during their life to make amends; it is unlike their nature; besides, she is no longer young, years are creeping on her slowly, but surely; depend upon it she will take the invitation kindly."

"Never!" said his wife again; "she does not think herself in the wrong, and is so different from most women; she is sternness itself; and I hope, Robert, you will give up the idea of asking her."

"I cannot do that. You know, Isabella, I never speak, or express a wish, unless I have fully considered the question at stake. It is my wish you should write, and I cannot but think the reply will be different from what you seem to expect."

"Do not force me to write, Robert. It is disagreeable to me."

"Force you!" exclaimed he, in surprise. "Certainly not; but I wish it, Isabella, most decidedly."

"How can I write, or what can I say? when she has never addressed a line to me for such a length of time, or taken the slightest notice of me whatever," said she half pettishly, half mournfully, very different from Mrs. Linchmore's usual haughty tone.

He looked half irresolute as he noticed it; her anger and coldness would only have made him more stern; but one symptom of softness melted him at once.

"Isabella, dear," and he came near, and took her hand, "I am sorry to have to ask you to do anything disagreeable, and what is evidently so painful to you; you will forgive me, dear one, will you not?"

But she looked up coldly in his face, and drawing away her hand, returned not the pressure of his; and his irresolution faded away while he said,

"You must not forget, Isabella, she opened a correspondence with you, after her long neglect and silence, and sent us Miss Neville; surely that was a sign her coldness was giving way."

"She heard we wanted a governess through Mrs. Murchison. I never had a line from her on the subject; our correspondence was carried on entirely through a third person, from first to last."

"You forget the letter she wrote when Miss Neville came?"

"No; I remember that perfectly. A very cold, stiff letter, I thought it."

"A very cold one, certainly. Well, perhaps it would be better I should write; I will if you wish it; I am quite decided in my opinion that one of us ought to do so."

"No, no, by no means," replied Mrs. Linchmore, hurriedly. "I will do as you like about it; and write to-morrow morning, since you think I ought, and you wish it so much."

"Thank you, Isabella." He stooped down over her again, and kissed her forehead; but she received it coldly as before, her face half averted.

"I fear," he added, "it will give you pain; but it is right."

"Pain! He little knows or even guesses how much," said Mrs. Linchmore half aloud when he was gone, "or how much misery he has raked up during the one short half-hour he has been here. I wish he had never come; or rather never thought about the invitation."

With a sigh she arose slowly, and went to dress for dinner. To be gay and light, with a secret woe gnawing and tearing at her heart strings.

Seated at the gla.s.s, Mason brus.h.i.+ng and plaiting her hair, the book still in her hand, apparently Mrs. Linchmore read, but it was not so; her thoughts wandered; several times she turned back the pages, and re-read what had gone before.