Part 13 (1/2)
”No, that's the earl. Old clothes are his special fancy in the country.
It's his particular form of side, so they say.”
”Well,” said Tiny, ”I prefer it to his son's, which has always appeared to me to be the other extreme.”
”I am sure Lord Manister is not over-dressed,” remonstrated Ruth, with her usual alacrity in defense of his lords.h.i.+p.
”No, that's the worst of him,” answered her sister. ”There is nothing to find fault with, ever; that's what makes one think he employs his intellect on the study of his appearance.”
They had seen Lord Manister in the distance. Presumably he had not seen them, but he might have done so; and Ruth supposed it was the doubt that made her sister speak of him more captiously than usual. But the criticism was not utterly unfair, as Ruth might presently have seen for herself; for as they came back to the front of the house, Lord Manister detached himself from a group, and approached them with the suave smile and the slight flourish of the hat which were two of his tricks.
Christina asked afterward if the flourish was not dreadfully continental, but she was told that it was merely up to date, like the hat itself. At the time, however, she introduced Lord Manister to her sister Mrs. Erskine Holland, and to Mr. Holland, taking this liberty with charming grace and tact, yet with a becoming amount of natural shyness. Manister, for one, was pleased with the introduction on all grounds. From the first, however, he addressed himself to the married lady, speaking partly of the surrounding country, for which Ruth could not say too much, and partly of Melbourne, which enabled him to return her compliments. His manner was eminently friendly and polite.
Discovering that they had not yet been in the house for tea, he led the way thither, and through a throng of people in the hall, and so into the dining room. Here he saved the situation from embarra.s.sment by making himself equally attentive to another party. To Ruth, however, Lord Manister's civility was still sufficiently marked, while he asked her husband whether he was a cricketer; and this reminded him of Herbert, for whom he gave Miss Luttrell a message. He said they had just arranged some cricket for the last week of the month; he thought they would be glad of Miss Luttrell's brother in one or two of the matches. But he seemed to fear that most of the teams were made up; his young brother was arranging everything. Christina gathered that in any case they would be glad to see Herbert at the nets any afternoon of the following week, more especially on the Monday. Lord Manister made a point of the message, and also of the cricket week, ”when,” he said, ”you must all turn up if it's fine.” And those were his last words to them.
”I see you know my son,” said the countess in her kindliest manner as Ruth thanked her for a charming afternoon.
”My sister met him the other day at Lady Almeric's,” replied Ruth, ”and before that in Australia.”
”I knew Lord Manister in Melbourne,” added Tiny with freedom.
”Do you mean to tell me you are Australians?” said Lady Dromard in a tone that complimented the girls at the expense of their country. ”Then you must certainly come and see me,” she added cordially, though her surprise was still upon her. ”I am greatly interested in Australia since my son was there. I feel I have a welcome for all Australians--you welcomed him, you know!”
Christina afterward expressed the firm opinion that Lady Dromard had said this rather strangely, which Ruth as firmly denied. Tiny was accused of an imaginative self-consciousness, and the accusation provoked a blush, which Ruth took care to remember. Certainly, if the countess had spoken queerly, the queerness had escaped the one person who was not on the lookout for something of the kind; Erskine Holland had perceived nothing but her ladys.h.i.+p's condescension, which had been indeed remarkable, though Erskine still told his wife to expect no further notice from that quarter.
”And I'm selfish enough to hope you'll get none, my dears,” he said to the girls that evening as they sauntered through the kitchen garden after dinner; ”because for my part I'd much rather not be noticed by them. We were not intended to take seriously anything that was said this afternoon; honey was the order of the day for all comers--and can't you imagine them wiping their foreheads when we were all gone? I only hope they wiped us out of their heads! We're much happier as we are. I'm not rabid, like Mrs. Willoughby; but she prophesied a very possible experience, when all's said and done, confound her! I have visions of Piccadilly myself. And seriously, Ruth, you wouldn't like it if you became friendly with these people here and they cut you in town; no more should I. I think you can't be too careful with people of that sort; and if they ask us again I vote we don't go; but they won't ask us any more, you may depend upon it.”
”I don't depend upon it, all the same,” replied Ruth, with some spirit.
”Lady Dromard was most kind; and as for Lord Manister, _I_ was enchanted with him.”
”Were you?” Tiny said, feeling vaguely that she was challenged.
”I was; I thought him unaffected and friendly, and even simple. I am sure he is simple-minded! I am also sure that you won't find another young man in his position who is better natured or better hearted----”
”Or better mannered--or better dressed! You are quite right; he is nearly perfect. He is rather too perfect for me in his manners and appearance; I should like to untidy him; I should like to put him in a temper. Lord Manister was never in a temper in his life; he's nicer than most people--but he's too nice altogether for me!”
”You knew him rather well in Melbourne?” said Erskine, eyeing his sister-in-law curiously; her face was toward the moon, and her expression was set and scornful.
”Very well indeed,” she answered with her erratic candor.
”I might have guessed as much that time in town. I say, if we meet _him_ in Piccadilly we may score off Mrs. Willoughby yet! Wait till we get back----”
”All right; only don't let us wait out here,” Ruth interrupted--”or Tiny and I may have to go back in our coffins!”
CHAPTER IX.
MOTHER AND SON.
A clever man is not necessarily an infallible prophet; and the clever man who is married may well preserve an intellectual l.u.s.ter in the eyes of his admirer by never prophesying at all. But should he take pleasure in predicting the thing that is openly deprecated at the other side of the hearth, let him see to it that his prediction comes true, for otherwise he has whetted a blade for his own breast, from whose justifiable use only an angel could abstain. There was no angel in the family which had been brought up on Wallandoon Station, New South Wales.