Volume I Part 70 (1/2)

During the latter half of September Michael went to stay with Alan at Richmond, partly because with the nearness of Stella's appearance he began to feel nervous, and partly because he found speculation about Oxford in Alan's company a very diverting pursuit. From Richmond he went up at the end of the month in order to pa.s.s Responsions without difficulty. On the sixth of October was the concert at King's Hall.

Michael had spent a good deal of time in sending letters to all the friends he could think of, inviting their attendance on this occasion of importance. He even wrote to Wilmot and many of the people he had met at Edwardes Square. Everyone must help in Stella's triumph.

At the beginning of October Mrs. Ross arrived at the Merivales' house, and for the first time since their conversation in the orchard she and Michael met. He was shy at first, but Mrs. Ross was so plainly anxious to show that she regarded him as affectionately as ever that Michael found himself able to resume his intimacy at once. However, since Stella was always uppermost in his thoughts, he did not test Mrs. Ross with any more surprizing admissions.

On the night before the concert Mr. and Mrs. Merivale, Mrs. Ross, Alan and Michael sat in the drawing-room, talking over the concert from every point of view.

”Of course she'll be a success,” said Mr. Merivale, and managed to implicate himself as usual in a network of bad puns that demanded the heartiest reprobation from his listeners.

”Dear little girl,” said Mrs. Merivale placidly. ”How nice it is to see children doing things.”

”Of course she'll be a success,” Alan vowed. ”You've only got to look at her to see that. By gad, what an off-drive she would have had, if she'd only been a boy.”

Michael looked at Alan quickly. This was the first time he had ever heard him praise a girl of his own accord. He made up his mind to ask Stella when her concert was over how Alan had impressed her.

”Dear Michael,” said Mrs. Ross earnestly, ”you must not worry about Stella. Don't you remember how years ago I said she would be a great pianist? And you were so amusing about it, because you would insist that you didn't like her playing.”

”Nor I did,” said Michael in laughing defence of himself at eight years old. ”I used to think it was the most melancholy noise on earth.

Sometimes I think so now, when Stella wraps herself up in endless scales. By Jove,” he suddenly exclaimed, ”what's the time?”

”Half-past eight nearly. Why?” Alan asked.

”I forgot to write and tell Viner to come. It's not very late. I think I'll go over to Notting Hill now, and ask him. I haven't been to see him much lately, and he was always awfully decent to me.”

Mr. Viner was reading in his smoke-hung room.

”Hullo,” he said. ”You've not been near me for almost a year.”

”I know,” said Michael apologetically. ”I feel rather a brute. Some time I'll tell you why.”

Then suddenly Michael wondered if the priest knew about Lord Saxby, and he felt shy of him. He felt that he could not talk intimately to him until he had told him about the circ.u.mstances of his birth.

”Is that what's been keeping you away?” asked the priest. ”Because, let me tell you, I've known all about you for some years. And look here, Michael, don't get into your head that you've got to make this sort of announcement every time you form a new friends.h.i.+p.”

”Oh, that wasn't the reason I kept away,” said Michael. ”But I don't want to talk about myself. I want to talk about my sister. She's going to play at the King's Hall concert to-morrow night. You will come, won't you?”

”Of course I will,” said the priest.

”Thanks, and--er--if you could think about her when you're saying Ma.s.s to-morrow morning, why, I'd rather like to serve you, if I may. I must tear back now,” Michael added. ”Good night.”

”Good night,” said the priest, and as Michael turned in the doorway his smile was like a benediction.