Part 6 (1/2)

”d.i.c.k, your mother is asking for you,” he said, rather abruptly; but d.i.c.k growled something in an undertone, and did not move.

Nan gave him a frightened nudge. Why was he so imprudent?

”I cannot move, because of my flowers; do go, d.i.c.k. You must indeed, if your mother wants you;” and she looked at him in such a pleading way that d.i.c.k dared not refuse. It was just like his father to come and disturb his first happy moments and to order him off to go and do something disagreeable. He had almost a mind to brave it out, and remain in spite of him; but there was Nan looking at him in a frightened, imploring way.

”Oh, do go, d.i.c.k,” giving him a little impatient push in her agitation; ”if your mother wants you, you must not keep her waiting.”

But Nan in her heart knew, as d.i.c.k did in his, that the message was only a subterfuge to separate them.

CHAPTER V.

”I AM QUITE SURE OF HIM.”

Nan would willingly have effected her escape too, but she was detained by the flowers that d.i.c.k had tossed so lightly into her lap. She was rather dismayed at her position, and her fingers trembled a little over their work. There was a breath--a sudden entering current--of antagonism and prejudice that daunted her. Lady Fitzroy cast an admiring look at the girl as she sat there with glowing cheeks and downcast lids.

”How pretty she is!” she said, in a low voice, as Mr. Mayne pointed out his favorite orchid. ”She is like her mother; there is just the same quiet style, only I suspect Mrs. Challoner was even better looking in her time.”

”Humph! yes, I suppose so,” returned her host, in a dissatisfied tone.

He had not brought Lady Fitzroy there to talk of the Challoners, but to admire his orchids. Then he shot another glance at Nan between his half-closed eyes, and a little spice of malice flavored his next words.

”Shall we sit here a moment? Let me see: you were asking me, Lady Fitzroy, about d.i.c.k's prospects. I was talking to his mother about them the other day. I said to her then, d.i.c.k must settle in life well; he must marry money.”

”Indeed?” replied Lady Fitzroy, somewhat absently; she even indulged in a slight yawn behind her fan. She liked d.i.c.k well enough, as every one else did, but she was not partial to his father. How tiresome it was of Fitzroy to insist so much on their neighborly duties!

Mr. Mayne was not ”one of them,” as she would have phrased it; he did not speak their language or lead their life; their manners and customs, their little tricks and turns of thought were hieroglyphics to him.

A man who had never had a grandfather,--at least a grandfather worth knowing,--whose father's hands had dabbled in trade,--actually trade,--such a one might be a very worthy man, an excellent citizen, an exemplary husband and father, but it behooved a woman in her position not to descend too freely to his level.

”Percival is such a sad Radical,” she would say to herself; ”he does not make sufficient distinction between people. I should wish to be neighborly, but I cannot bring myself to be familiar with these Maynes;” which was perhaps the reason why Lady Fitzroy was not as popular at Longmead and in other places as her good-natured husband.

”Oh, indeed?” she said, with difficulty repressing another slight yawn behind her fan, but speaking in a fatigued voice: but Mr. Mayne was too intent on his purpose to notice it.

”If d.i.c.k had brothers and sisters it would not matter so much; but when one has only a single hope--eh, Lady Fitzroy?--things must be a little different then.”

”He will have plenty of choice,” she returned, with an effort at graciousness. ”Oldfield is rich in pretty girls:” and she cast another approving glance at poor Nan, but Mr. Mayne interrupted her almost rudely.

”Ah, as to that,” he returned, with a sneer, ”we want no such nonsense for d.i.c.k. Here are the facts of the case. Here is an honest, good-tempered young fellow, but with no particular push in him; he has money, you say,--yes, but not enough to give him the standing I want him to have. I am ambitious for d.i.c.k. I want him to settle in life well. Why, he might be called to the bar; he might enter Parliament; there is no limit to a man's career nowadays. I will do what I can for him, but he must meet me half-way.”

”You mean,” observed Lady Fitzroy, with a little perplexity in her tone, ”that he must look out for an heiress.” She was not in the secret, and she could not understand why her host was treating her to this outburst of confidence. ”It was so disagreeable to be mixed up with this sort of thing,” as she told her husband afterwards. ”I never knew him quite so odious before; and there was that pretty Miss Challoner sitting near us, and he never let me address a word to her.”

Nan began to feel she had had enough of it. She started up hastily as Lady Fitzroy said the last words, but the entrance of some more young people compelled her to stand inside a moment, and she heard Mr.

Mayne's answer distinctly: ”Well, not an heiress exactly; but the girl I have in view for him has a pretty little sum of money, and the connection is all that could be wished; she is nice-looking, too, and is a bright, talking little body----” But here Nan made such a resolute effort to pa.s.s, that the rest of the sentence was lost upon her.

d.i.c.k, who was strolling up and down the lawn rather discontentedly, hurried up to her as she came out.

”They are playing a valse; come, Nan,” he said, holding out his hand to her with his usual eagerness; but she shook her head.

”I cannot dance; I am too tired: there are others you ought to ask.”

She spoke a little ungraciously, and d.i.c.k's face wore a look of dismay, as she walked away from him with quick even footsteps.