Part 13 (1/2)

Anstice, on arrival, soon had the small arm set and comfortably bandaged; and once safely in bed, although more upset than she wished anyone to imagine, Cherry regained her usual half-affectionate half-patronizing manner, and insisted upon Anstice sitting down beside her ”for at least five minutes, my dear!”

With a smile, Anstice sat down as requested; and Cherry instantly began to question him on the subject of Greengates.

”Isn't it a fa.s.synating house, my dear?” Cherry never employed a short word when she thought a long one fairly appropriate. ”Have you seen Iris' bedroom?--all done in white and purple and green--and irises everywhere--on the walls and the curtains--just like a gorjus purple iris what grows in the garden?”

”No, I've not seen Miss Wayne's bedroom,” owned Anstice rather hastily.

”But it couldn't be prettier than this--why, those bunches of cherries on the wall are so life-like that I wonder the birds don't come in to make a meal of them!”

”Do you like them?” Cherry was openly gratified by his approval. ”But I wish you could see Iris' room. She always takes me there to wash my hands and face, and the basin is all over irises too.”

”Fa.s.synating” as these details of Miss Wayne's domestic arrangements might be, Anstice judged it safer to switch his small patient on to another topic; and in an animated discussion as to the proper age at which a young lady might begin to ride a motor-bicycle--Cherry inclining to seven, Anstice to seventeen years--the promised five minutes flew swiftly away.

”You'll come again, my dear?” Cherry's anxiety to ensure his attendance was flattering, and he laughed and a.s.sured her he would visit her every day if she desired it.

As a matter of fact he did visit her with some regularity; for she managed, with a perversity known only to imps of a like nature, to catch a severe chill which puzzled her attendants, none of them knowing of a certain feverishly delightful ten minutes spent in hanging out of the window holding an interesting conversation with the gardener's boy below on the subject of broken bones. In any case, Anstice found it necessary to call at Cherry Orchard on several consecutive days; and during the child's illness and subsequent convalescence he was perforce obliged to come into contact with Mrs. Carstairs herself.

As a physiological study Chloe interested him strongly. Although she appeared genuinely fond of her little daughter and waited on her night and day with a solicitude which never varied, there was nothing in her manner to denote pa.s.sionate affection, nor did the child appear to desire it. Even to Cherry her voice, rich and deep as it was, never softened; and she rarely used an endearing term. Yet Cherry appeared to be quite satisfied; and Anstice came to the conclusion that the child's fine instinct was able to pierce behind this apparent coldness to the warm human love which doubtless lay beneath.

One fact about Mrs. Carstairs he was not slow in discovering. With the exception of Iris Wayne and her father, Chloe appeared to be absolutely devoid of friends, even of casual acquaintances. The Littlefield people, who had been first surprised, then outraged, by her reappearance among them, had long since decided that for them Cherry Orchard was _tabu_; and although the Vicar, Mr. Carey, successor to the man whose wife had raised the storm in which Chloe Carstairs' barque had come to s.h.i.+pwreck, had called upon her, and endeavoured, in his gentle, courtly fas.h.i.+on, to make her welcome, his paris.h.i.+oners had no intention of following his example.

That Mrs. Carstairs felt her isolation in a social sense Anstice did not believe; but that she must feel very lonely at times, find the days very long and empty, he felt pretty well a.s.sured. She was not an accomplished woman in the usual sense of the word. He never found her playing the piano, or painting water-colour pictures as did so many of the women ha visited. She did not appear to care for needlework, and in spite of the books scattered about the house, he rarely saw her reading; yet all the while he had a feeling that had she desired to s.h.i.+ne in any or all of the arts peculiar to women she would have no difficulty in doing so.

That she ordered her household excellently he knew from the glimpses he had obtained of her domestic life; but there again she was a.s.sisted by a staff of superior servants who all, from her personal attendant, the devoted Tochatti, down to the boy who cleaned the knives, wors.h.i.+pped their mistress with a wholehearted affection which held about it a touch of something almost resembling fanaticism.

One day Anstice did find her with a book in her hand; and on venturing to inquire into its contents was informed it was a well-known _Treatise on Chess_.

”Do you play?” he asked, rather astonished, for in common with many men he imagined chess to be almost purely a masculine pastime.

”Yes--at least I used to play once,” she admitted slowly. ”I can't very well indulge in a game nowadays. Even the grownup Cherry declines to play, though I hope in time I may incite her to learn!”

”I used to play--indifferently--once,” Anstice said meditatively; and Chloe looked at him with a faint smile.

”Did you? Some day when you are not too busy will you drop in to tea and play a game with me?”

”I'd like to immensely.” His tone was sincere, and Chloe's manner warmed ever so little.

”Can you stay now?” The hour was just on five; and Cherry, who had that day been promoted to tea downstairs, seconded the invitation as usual from her nest on the big Chesterfield.

”Do stay, my dear, and I'll help you to move all the funny little men and the castles!”

Anstice could not refuse this double invitation; and after a hasty cup of tea he and his hostess sat down to the board and set out the ancient ivory chessmen which were so well suited to the pretty, old-fas.h.i.+oned room in which the players sat.

To Anstice's quite unjustifiable surprise Chloe Carstairs played an admirable game. Her moves were clearly reasoned out, and she displayed a quickness of thought, a brilliance of man[oe]uvre, which soon convinced Anstice he was outplayed.

At the end of fifteen minutes Chloe had vanquished him completely; and while most of his men were reposing in the carved box at her elbow, the ranks of her army were scarcely thinned.

”I give in, Mrs. Carstairs!” He laughed and rose. ”You won't think me unsporting if I run away now? I'm beat hollow, and I know it, but if you will condescend to play with me another day----”

”I shall look forward to another game,” she said serenely; and Anstice departed, feeling he had been permitted to obtain another sidelight on her somewhat complex character.