Part 11 (1/2)
Part of the old Caddagat house was built of slabs, and one of the wooden walls ran along the veranda side of the drawing-room, so the songs aunt Helen and Everard Grey were trying to the piano came as a sweet accompaniment to my congenial task.
Presently they left off singing and commenced talking. Under the same circ.u.mstances a heroine of a story would have slipped away; or, if that were impossible without discovery, she would have put her fingers in her ears, and would have been in a terrible state of agitation lest she should hear something not intended for her. I did not come there with a view to eavesdropping. It is a degradation to which I never stoop. I thought they were aware of my presence on the veranda; but it appears they were not, as they began to discuss me (wonderfully interesting subject to myself), and I stayed there, without one word of disapproval from my conscience, to listen to their conversation.
”My word, didn't gran make a to-do this morning when I proposed to train Sybylla for the stage! Do you know that girl is simply reeking with talent; I must have her trained. I will keep bringing the idea before gran until she gets used to it. I'll work the we-should-use-the-gifts-G.o.d-has-given-us racket for all it is worth, and you might use your influence too, Helen.”
”No, Everard; there are very few who succeed on the stage. I would not use my influence, as it is a life of which I do not approve.”
”But Sybylla _would_ succeed. I am a personal friend of the leading managers, and my influence would help her greatly.”
”Yes; but what would you do with her? A young gentleman couldn't take charge of a girl and bring her out without ruining her reputation. There would be no end of scandal, as the sister theory would only be nonsense.”
”There is another way; I could easily stop scandal.”
”Everard, what do you mean!”
”I mean marriage,” he replied deliberately.
”Surely, boy, you must be dreaming! You have only seen her for an hour or two. I don't believe in these sudden attachments.”
Perhaps she here thought of one (her own) as sudden, which had not ended happily.
”Everard, don't do anything rashly. You know you are very fickle and considered a lady-killer--be merciful to my poor little Sybylla, I pray.
It is just one of your pa.s.sing fancies. Don't wile her pa.s.sionate young heart away and then leave her to pine and die.”
”I don't think she is that sort,” he replied laughingly.
”No, she would not die, but would grow into a cynic and sceptic, which is the worst of fates. Let her alone. Flirt as much as you will with society belles who understand the game, but leave my country maiden alone. I hope to mould her into a splendid character yet.”
”But, Helen, supposing I am in earnest at last, you don't think I'd make her a bad old hubby, do you?”
”She is not the girl for you. You are not the man who could ever control her. What I say may not be complimentary but it is true. Besides, she is not seventeen yet, and I do not approve of romantic young girls throwing themselves into matrimony. Let them develop their womanhood first.”
”Then I expect I had better hide my attractions under a bushel during the remainder of my stay at Caddagat?”
”Yes. Be as nice to the child as you like, but mind, none of those little ladies'-man attentions with which it is so easy to steal--”
I waited to hear no more, but, br.i.m.m.i.n.g over with a mixture of emotions, tore through the garden and into the old orchard. Bees were busy, and countless bright-coloured b.u.t.terflies flitted hither and thither, sipping from hundreds of trees, white or pink with bloom--their beauty was lost upon me. I stood ankle-deep in violets, where they had run wild under a gnarled old apple-tree, and gave way to my wounded vanity.
”Little country maiden, indeed! There's no need for him to bag his attractions up. If he exerted himself to the utmost of his ability, he could not make me love him. I'm not a child. I saw through him in the first hour. There's not enough in him to win my love. I'll show him I think no more of him than of the caterpillars on the old tree there. I'm not a b.o.o.by that will fall in love with every gussie I see. Bah, there's no fear of that! I hate and detest men!”
”I suppose you are rehearsing some more airs to show off with tonight,”
sneered a voice behind me.
”No, I'm realisticing; and how _dare_ you thrust your obnoxious presence before me when I wish to be alone! Haven't I often shown--”
”While a girl is disengaged, any man who is her equal has the right to pay his addresses to her if he is in earnest,” interrupted Mr Hawden. It was he who stood before me.