Part 31 (2/2)

But Maurice and Mrs. Bethune, who had been standing just behind him, had heard that whispered first word.

”Oh, you rare right,” says t.i.ta petulantly. ”But you would never have known me but for my hair. And I _hate_ being blindfolded, too.

Maurice, will you take it for me?” holding out to him the handkerchief.

”No!” says Rylton quietly, but decisively--so decisively that Mrs.

Chichester suddenly hides her face behind her fan.

”What a No!” says she to Captain Marryatt. ”Did you hear it? What's the matter with him?”

”He's jealous, perhaps,” says Captain Marryatt.

Mrs. Chichester gives way to wild, if suppressed, mirth.

”Heavens! Fancy being jealous of one's own wife!” says she. ”Now, if it had been anyone else's----”

”Yes, there would be reason in that!” says Captain Marryatt, so gloomily that her mirth breaks forth afresh.

He is always a joy to her, this absurd young man, who, in spite of barbs and shafts, follows at her chariot wheels with a determination worthy of a better cause.

Gower, who also had heard that quiet ”No,” had come instantly forward, and entreated t.i.ta to blindfold him. And once more the fun is at its height. Hescott, as compared with Randal Gower, is not even _in_ it in this game. The latter simulates the swallow, and even outdoes that wily bird in his swift dartings to and fro. Great is his surprise, and greater still his courage--this last is acknowledged by _all_--when, on a final swoop round the room with arms extended, he suddenly closes them round the bony form of Miss Gower, who had returned five minutes ago, and who, silent and solitary, is standing in a distant corner breathing anathemas upon the game.

Everyone stops dead short--everyone looks at the ceiling; surely it _must_ fall! There had been a general, if unvoiced, opinion up to this that Mr. Gower could _see_; but now he is at once exonerated, and may leave the dock at any moment without a stain upon his character.

”Come away! come away!” whisper two or three behind his back.

Mrs. Chichester pulls frantically at his coat-tails; but Mr. Gower holds on. He pa.s.ses his hand over Miss Gower's gray head.

”It is--it is--it _must_ be!” cries he, in a positive tone.

”It”--here his hand flies swiftly down her warlike nose--”it is Colonel Neilson!” declares he, with a shout of triumph.

”Unhand me, sir!” cries Miss Gower.

She had not spoken up to this--but to compare her to a man! She moves majestically forward. Gower unhands her, and, lifting one side of his would-be blind, regards her fixedly.

”It was the nose!” He looks round reproachfully at Neilson. ”Just see what you've let me in for!” says he.

”Don't talk to me, sir!” cries his aunt indignantly. ”Make no excuses--none need be made! When one plays demoralizing games in daylight, one should be prepared for anything;” and with this she once more leaves the room.

”Ah, we should have played demoralizing games at _midnight,”_ says Mr. Gower, who doesn't look half as much ashamed of himself as he ought, ”then we should have been all right.”

Here somebody who is standing at one of the windows says suddenly:

”It is clearing!”

”Is it?” cries t.i.ta. ”Then I suppose we ought to go out! But what a pity we couldn't have another game first!”

She looks very sorry.

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