Part 18 (1/2)

”Oh, of course, dear father, I don't mean that, but--”

”But it sounds extremely as if you did mean it.”

”I do hope you won't ask any one here,” said she doggedly.

”Rosalind, you offend me. You are incapable, as I have told you before, of appreciating your duty either to me or yourself. Oblige me by going.”

”Papa, dear, I am only anxious--”

”Go!” said the Captain brusquely.

She obeyed. Mr Armstrong, as he met her in the hall and marked the bright colour in her cheeks and the light in her eyes, thought to himself how uncommonly well she was looking this morning. He might have thought otherwise had he seen her in her studio half an hour later, with the colour all faded, striving miserably to resume her painting at the point where she had left it off.

Her good father, meanwhile, naturally put out, continued his meditations.

”A most vexing child--no support to me at all. On the contrary, an embarra.s.sment. I might have guessed she would cut up rough. Yet I do so long for a little sympathy. Wonder if I shall get any from my dear cousin Eva some fine day? Hum. I more and more incline to that venture. It would suit my book, to say nothing of my being really almost in love with the dear creature. But I'm so abominably shy.

Let's see, Ratman is due first week in October--a month hence. I shall have to keep him quiet some how. He won't be satisfied with things as they are, I'm afraid. All very well to be heir-presumptive when there's little prospect of presuming. Dear Roger is certainly not robust--not at all, poor boy. Still he seems tenacious of what would be very much more useful to me than to him. Yes, it would strengthen my hands vastly if my dear cousin Eva were to give me the right to regard the lad as a father. There would be something definite in that. It would solve the Armstrong question, for one thing, I flatter myself; and as for Rosalind--yes by the way--”

He took out the letter again and read the postscript carefully.

”Yes--tut, tut--how oddly things do work out sometimes. Evidently it is my duty all round, for the sake of everybody, to cast aside my natural bashfulness and use the opportunities Providence gives me.”

With which reflection he lit a cigar, and had a pleasant ramble in the park with little Miss Jill, who had rarely seen her papa more lively or amusing.

His spirits were destined to be still further cheered by an occurrence which took place on the following day.

Roger, despite his delicate health, had managed to get through a creditable amount of work during the summer under Mr Armstrong's guidance. He was shortly to go up for his first B.A. in London, and, with that ordeal in view, had been tempted to tax his strength even more than was good for him.

At last the tutor put down his foot.

”No, old fellow,” said he; ”if you work any move you will go backwards instead of forward. You must take this week easy, and go up fresh for the exam. Depend on it, you will do far better than if you tried to keep it up till the last moment.”

In vain Roger pleaded, threatened, mutinied. The tutor was inexorable, and, fortified by the joint authority of Mrs Ingleton and Dr Brandram, carried the day. He had also an unexpected ally in Miss Rosalind.

”Don't be obstinate, Roger,” said she. ”The three Fates are too many for you; and don't sulk, whatever you do, there's a dear boy, but make yourself nice and propose to take Tom and Jill and me across to Pulpit Island to-morrow. If you are so wedded to lessons, you and Tom shall have your art cla.s.s for once in a way on the Pelican's Rock instead of my room.”

Roger could hardly hold out after this; and Mr Armstrong, a little envious, set the seal of his approval to the programme.

”I wish you'd come too,” said Tom; ”can't you?”

”Oh, do,” said Jill; ”it would be twice as nice.”

”Mr Armstrong has enough of all of us on working-days,” said Rosalind rather cruelly, ”to forego a chance of being rid of us on a holiday.”

”Quite so,” said the tutor, trying to enjoy the situation; ”when the mice are away the cat will play--on the piano.”

The next day promised well for the picnic; and Roger had sufficiently warmed up to the proposed expedition to be able to enter eagerly into the preparations.

The Pulpit Island, a desolate cavernous rock three miles from the coast, dominated by a lighthouse, was a familiar hunting-ground of his in days gone by, and he decidedly enjoyed the prospect of doing the honours of the place to his cousins now--particularly one of them.

As not a breath of air was stirring, they decided not to enc.u.mber the small boat with mast or sail, but to row leisurely across with just as much energy as suited their holiday humour. The channel was on the whole free from currents, and, as Roger knew the landing-places as well as the oldest sailor in the place, any precaution in the way of a pilot was needless.