Part 7 (1/2)
”I should like to marry a very rich man with a big moustache, and a beautiful house in London with a fireplace in the hall,” cried Mellicent fervently. ”I should have carriages and horses, and a diamond necklace and three children: Valentine Roy--that should be the boy--and Hildegarde and Ermyntrude, the girls, and they should have golden hair like Rosalind, and blue eyes, and never wear anything but white, and big silk sashes. I'd have a housekeeper to look after the dinners and things, and a governess for the children, and never do anything myself except give orders and go out to parties. I'd be the happiest woman that ever lived.”
Lazy Oswald smiled in complacent fas.h.i.+on.
”And the fattest! Dearie me, wouldn't you be a tub! I don't know that I have any special ambition. I mean to get my degree if I can, and then persuade the governor to send me a tour round the world. I like moving about, and change and excitement, and travelling is good fun if you avoid the f.a.g, and provide yourself with introductions to the right people. I know a fellow who went off for a year, and had no end of a time; people put him up at their houses, and got up b.a.l.l.s and dinners for his benefit, and he never had to rough it a bit. I could put in a year or two in that way uncommonly well.”
Rob had been wriggling on his chair and scowling in his wild-bear fas.h.i.+on all the while Oswald was speaking, and at the conclusion he relieved his feelings by kicking out recklessly beneath the table, with the result that Peggy sat up suddenly with a ”My foot, my friend! Curb your enthusiasm!” which made him laugh, despite his annoyance.
”But it's such bos.h.!.+” he cried scornfully. ”It makes me sick to hear a fellow talk such nonsense. b.a.l.l.s and dinners--faugh! If that's your idea of happiness, why not settle down in London and be done with it!
That's the place for you! I'd give my ears to go round the world, but I wouldn't thank you to go with a dress suit and a valet; I'd want to rough it, to get right out of the track of civilisation and taste a new life; to live with the Bedouin in their tents as some of those artist fellows have done, or make friends with a tribe of savages.
Magnificent! I'd keep a notebook with an account of all I did, and all the strange plants and flowers and insects I came across, and write a book when I came home. I'd a lot rather rough it in Africa than lounge about Piccadilly in a frock coat and tall hat.” Robert sighed at the hard prospect which lay before him as the son of a n.o.ble house, then looked across the table with a smile: ”And what says the fair Mariquita?
What _role_ in life is she going to patronise when she comes to years of discretion?”
Peggy nibbled the end of her pen and stared into s.p.a.ce.
”I've not quite decided,” she said slowly. ”I should like to be either an author or an orator, but I'm not sure which. I think, on the whole, an orator, because then you could watch the effect of your words. It is not possible, of course, but what I should like best would be to be the Archbishop of Canterbury, or some great dignitary of the Church. Oh, just imagine it! To stand up in the pulpit and see the dim cathedral before one, and the faces of the people looking up, white and solemn.-- I'd stand waiting until the roll of the organ died away, and there was a great silence; then I would look at them, and say to myself--'A thousand people, two thousand people, and for half an hour they are in my power.
I can make them think as I will, see as I will, feel as I will. They are mine! I am their leader.'--I cannot imagine anything in the world more splendid than that! I should choose to be the most wonderful orator that was ever known, and people would come from all over the world to hear me, and I would say beautiful things in beautiful words, and see the answer in their faces, and meet the flash in the eyes looking up into mine. Oh-h! if it could only--only be true; but it can't, you see. I am a girl, and if I try to do anything in public I am as nervous as a rabbit, and can only squeak, squeak, squeak in a tiny little voice that would not reach across the room. I had to recite at a prize-giving at school once, and, my dears, it was a lamentable failure!
I was only audible to the first three rows, and when it was over I simply sat down and howled, and my knees shook. Oh dear, the very recollection unpowers me! So I think, on the whole, I shall be an auth.o.r.ess, and let my pen be my sceptre. From my quiet fireside,” cried Peggy, with a sudden a.s.sumption of the Mariquita manner, and a swing of the arms which upset a vase of chrysanthemums, and sent a stream of water flowing over the table--”from my quiet fireside I will sway the hearts of men--”
”My plush cloth! Oh, bad girl--my new plush cloth! You dreadful Peggy, what will I do with you?” Mrs Asplin rushed forward to mop with her handkerchief and lift the dripping flowers to a place of safety, while Peggy rolled up her eyes with an expression of roguish impenitence.
”Dear Mrs Asplin, it was not I, it was that auth.o.r.ess. She was evolving her plots... Pity the eccentricities of the great!”
CHAPTER ELEVEN.
A SHAKESPEARE READING.
Esther was preparing for the Cambridge Local Examination at Christmas, and making a special study of _The Merchant of Venice_, as the play chosen for the year.
Fraulein explained the notes, and expatiated on the Venice of the past and the manners and customs of its inhabitants; but it was Mr Asplin who had the brilliant idea of holding a Shakespeare reading which should make the play live in the imagination of the young people, as no amount of study could do. The suggestion was made one day at dinner, and was received with acclamation by everyone present.
”Oh, how lovely, father! It will help me ever so much!” said Esther.
”And Peggy must be Portia.”
”I'd like to be that funny little man Launcelot--what do you call it?-- only I know I couldn't do it,” said Mellicent humbly. ”I'll be the servants and people who come in and give messages. But, of course, Peggy must be Portia.”
”Peggy shall be Portia, and I'll be the Jew, and snarl at her across the court,” said Rob, with an a.s.surance which was not at all appreciated by his companions.
”I've rather a fancy to try Shylock myself,” Max declared. ”Oswald would make a capital Ba.s.sanio, and you could manage Antonio all right if you tried, for he has not so much to do. Let me see: Peggy--Portia; Esther--Nerissa; Mellicent--Jessica (she's so like a Jewess, you see!); you and Oswald--Ba.s.sanio and Antonio; Shylock--my n.o.ble self. Father and mother to help out with the smaller characters. There you are! A capital cast, and everyone satisfied. I'm game to be Shylock, but I can't do the sentimental business. You two fellows will have to take them, and we'll divide the smaller fry among us.”
”Indeed we will do nothing of the kind. I'm not going to take Ba.s.sanio; I couldn't do it, and I won't try. I'll have a shot at Shylock if you like, but I can't do anything else. The cast is all wrong, except so far as Peggy is concerned. Of course she is Portia.”
”Proposed, seconded, and carried unanimously that Peggy is Portia!” said Mr Asplin, smiling across the table at that young lady, who tried to look modest and unconcerned, but was plainly aglow with satisfaction.
”For Shylock, as the character seems so much in demand, we had better draw lots. I will write the names on slips of paper, and you must all agree to take what comes, and make the best of it. I will fill in the gaps, and I am sure mother will help all she can--”
”Lemonade in the intervals, and coffee for those who prefer it, with some of my very best company cake,” said Mrs Asplin briskly. ”It will be quite an excitement. I should rather like to be Shylock myself, and defy Peggy and her decree; but I'll give it up to the boys, and make myself generally useful. Why couldn't we begin to-night?”
”Oh, Mrs Asplin, no! It will take me days to get up my part! And the costumes--consider the costumes!” cried Peggy anxiously. And her hostess raised her hands in surprise.