Part 5 (1/2)

On two chairs very close together and far removed from the others, Jean and Ellen talked. Their voices, too, were hushed, but the subject of their conversation was evidently more agitating than cooks. In fact, there was something very like a sob more than once in Jean's voice, and Ellen held her hand and gently pressed it. But when poor Jean saw her favorite brother coming towards her with a warm sympathy in his eyes that told her he knew her trouble, she could control herself no longer.

Up she jumped, and throwing him one wry, tearful smile as she pa.s.sed, ran out of the room.

The two elder ladies looked up and then down again at their work. They had not yet heard of the painful episode. Frank came forward and took his sister's chair, which had been drawn so very close to Ellen's. He was thus able, by exercising caution, to take up the confidential conversation.

”I suppose she has told you?” he muttered, with a wary glance towards his aunt.

”Yes,” murmured Ellen. ”I'm so sorry!”

She looked nearly as distressed as Jean, and her gentle voice made her words sound like a sweet lament for all unhappy loves.

”I call it the deuce of a shame!” said the soldier.

”Can't we do anything to persuade your father?”

He was conscious of a little glow at being adopted so instinctively as an ally.

”I've told him what I think about it.”

”Have you?”--there was a sparkle in her eyes.--”How good of you! What did he say?”

”Told me to hold my tongue.”

Her face fell.

”I must talk to Andrew about it.”

Frank smiled sardonically.

”I'm afraid you won't find him very sympathetic either.”

She looked down at her little pointed shoe and said nothing.

”Who isn't very sympathetic, Frank?” asked Miss Walkingshaw, suddenly looking up.

He started guiltily.

”Oh--er--a lot of fellows one can think of,” he explained.

Mrs. Dunbar looked at the two young people curiously. She knew whom she herself did not consider sympathetic, and jumped to a conclusion. There was nothing the junior partner would dislike more than being critically discussed by that dear girl who was so much too nice for him, and that engaging boy who was so infinitely better-looking. It seemed a pity they could not enjoy their conversation without interruption.

”Would you like me to play you something, dear?” she asked.

”Oh yes, dear,” said Miss Walkingshaw. ”Do, please!”

They were the most affectionate of friends. Indeed, it was touching to see how devoted Madge was to Heriot's wintry sister. n.o.body else had ever seen so much in her to love.

The music began, and, once started, showed no sign of stopping. Over the top of her music Mrs. Dunbar's black eyes smiled a discreet approval of the confidential pair. She only wished that Andrew, gagged and bound beneath his brother's chair, was here to listen to them. She was sure they must be discussing something it would do him good to hear.

”Is Mr. Vernon a very nice man?” asked Ellen.

”One of the best. These artist fellows are apt to be a bit swollen-headed for my taste, but Lucas Vernon's a sportsman.”