Part 9 (1/2)

They would arrange flowers in the epergne, she suggested--a few sweet williams and mignonette and a foxglove or two. A pretty posy fixed in sand, such as she remembered there always was in their gala days.

Halcyone was enchanted at the prospect.

”Oh! dear Aunt Roberta, do let me do it all,” she said. ”You sit here on the bench and I will run and fetch the epergne--and we can pick what we think best. Or--don't you think just a big china bowl full of sweet peas would be prettier? The sand might show and, and--the epergne is rather stiff.”

But Miss Roberta looked aggrieved. The epergne with its gold and silver fern leaves climbing up a thin stalk of gla.s.s to its top dish for fruit had always come out for dinner parties and she liked not innovations. It was indeed as much as Halcyone could do to get all the flowers of the same kind, a nasturtium and a magenta stock had with care to be smuggled away, leaving the sweet peas sole occupants of the sand. But the effect was very festive and the two carried their work into the dining-room well pleased.

The best Sevres dinner-set was had out, which that traveler Timothy had brought from Paris among other things, and the best cut gla.s.s and rat-tailed silver. Old William, a.s.sisted by Hester and Priscilla, had been busy polis.h.i.+ng most of the day--while the cook and the ”young person from the village” were contriving wonders in the vast kitchen.

And punctually at seven in broad daylight, the three Misses La Sarthe, the two elder in their finest mauve silk evening dresses, awaited their guests in the Italian parlor.

Miss Roberta's heart had not fluttered like this since a county ball some forty years ago when a certain whiskered captain of a das.h.i.+ng cavalry regiment stationed at Upminster had whispered in her ear.

Priscilla had let down Halcyone's white muslin frock and as the tucks were rather large, it was longer than she intended, so that the child might easily have been taken for a girl of fifteen, and her perfect feet were encased in a pair of old-fas.h.i.+oned bronze slippers with elastics crossed up the legs of her white silk stockings. A fillet of blue silk kept back the soft cloud of her mouse-colored hair.

Mr. Miller was announced first--very nervous, as usual, and saying the wrong thing in his flurry. Then up the terrace steps could be seen advancing Mr. Carlyon and his guest. They had walked over from the cottage--and Halcyone, observing from the window, was conscious that against her will she was admiring John Derringham's arrogant, commanding walk.

”He could very well be as Theseus was after he grew proud,” she said to herself.

And soon they were announced.

Mr. Carlyon was now on the most friendly terms with both old ladies, and as well as coming to the monthly dinner, sometimes dropped in to tea on Sunday afternoons, but he knew this was a real party and must be treated as such.

How agreeable it felt to be once more in the world, Miss Roberta thought, and her faded pale cheeks flushed a delicate pink.

John Derringham had been sulky as a bear at the idea of coming, but something in the quaintly pathetic refinement of the poor and splendid old house pleased him, and the aroma of untouched early-Victorian prudish grace which the ancient ladies threw around them appealed to his imagination, as any complete bit of art or nature always did. He found himself seated between Miss La Sarthe and Halcyone and quite enjoying himself. Everything was of the time from the epergne to the way the bread was cut.

Halcyone conversed with Mr. Miller, who always felt he must make nursery jokes with her and ask her the names of her dolls.

”He can't help it,” she told Cheiron one day. ”If he had any more intelligence G.o.d would have put him to work in some busier place.”

John Derringham did not address her; he devoted himself to Miss La Sarthe.

He had absolutely no diffidence. He had been spoilt from his cradle, and by the time he had left Eton--Captain of the Oppidans--had ruled all those near him with a rod of iron, imposing his interesting enthusiastic personality upon all companies with unqualified success. Miss La Sarthe fell at once. He said exactly the right things to her and flattered her by his unfeigned interest in all she spoke of. He was studying her as he studied any rare memento of historical value.

”My great-niece reads every morning with Mr. Carlyon,” she said presently. ”Girls are expected to be so very clever nowadays, we are told. She already knows a little Greek. It would have been considered quite unnecessary in our day.”

”And I am sure it is in this,” said John Derringham. ”Learned women are an awful bore. As a s.e.x they were meant to be feminine, dainty, exquisite creatures as those I see to-night,” and he bowed gallantly while Miss La Sarthe thrilled. She thoroughly approved of his appearance.

”So very much of a gentleman, Roberta,” she afterwards said. ”None of that thick, ill-cut look we are obliged to observe in so many of the younger people we see when we go into Upminster each year.”

”And why should he look thick or ill-cut, Sister?” Miss Roberta replied.

”Mr. Carlyon told me the Derringhams have been seated at Derringham since fabulous times.”

Thus this last of that race was appreciated fully in at least two antiquated female hearts.

But meanwhile the cloth was being removed, and the port wine and old Madeira placed before the elder hostess.

”Our father's cellar was famous for its port,” she said, ”and we have a few bottles of the '47 left.”

But now she felt it was only manners to turn to Mr. Carlyon upon her other hand, so John Derringham was left in silence, no obligation to talk to Halcyone making itself felt. She turned and looked at him, he interested her very much. Mr. Carlyon had quant.i.ties of books of photographs of all the famous statues in Europe and especially in Italy and Greece, but she could not find any likeness to him in any of her recollection of them. Alas! his face was not at all Greek. His nose was high and aquiline, his forehead high and broad, and there was something n.o.ble and dominating in his fearless regard. His hair even did not grow very prettily, though it was thick and dark--and there was not an ounce of superfluous flesh upon his whole person. He never for a moment suggested repose, he gave the impression of vivid, nervous force and action, a young knight going out to fight any impossible dragon with his good sword and s.h.i.+eld--unabashed by the smoke from its flaming nostrils, undaunted by any fear of death.