Part 8 (1/2)
”Oh!” she cried, ”I forgot Mr. c.o.xon! I must go and scold him for not coming for me. Nonsense, Eleanor! I can't help about d.i.c.k,” and, shaking off Miss Scaife's detaining hand, she went to play the usual imposture.
Eleanor looked round in bewilderment. Seeing Lady Perry, she was struck with an idea, crossed the room, and joined the ex-Premier's smiling, pleasant wife. Lady Perry had noticed enough to be _au fait_ with the situation at a word. She rose and went to where Medland was now leaning listlessly against the wall. She spoke a word to him; he started, smiled, and shrugged his shoulders.
”I know you'll forgive me. One can't be too careful,” she urged. ”No one can be father and mother both.”
Mr. Medland beckoned to his daughter; she came to him, d.i.c.k standing a few feet off.
”Whenever, Daisy,” said Medland, ”a thing is pleasant, one must not, in this world, have much of it. Is that the gospel, Lady Perry?”
”You'll make young Mr. Derosne too conceited, my dear,” whispered Lady Perry, very kindly; but she favoured d.i.c.k, who knew well that he was a sinner, with a severe glance.
Thus Eleanor Scaife, having rid her party of the Medlands--for the moment, as she impatiently added--was at liberty to listen to the conversation of Mrs. Puttock. Mrs. Puttock was always most civil to any of the Government House party, and she entertained Eleanor, who resolutely refused all invitations to dance, with plenty of gossip.
Amidst their talk and the occasional interruptions of men who joined and left them, the evening wore away, and Eleanor had just signed to Alicia to make ready to go, when Mrs. Puttock touched on the Premier, who was visible across the room, chatting merrily with his host, and laughing heartily at the Chief Justice's stories.
”The Premier seems in good spirits,” said Mrs. Puttock, a little acidly.
”Oh, I expect he's only bearing up in public,” laughed Eleanor. ”But there certainly is a great change in him since I first recollect him.”
”Indeed, Miss Scaife.”
”Yes,” said Eleanor, rising, for she saw Alicia approaching under Captain Heseltine's escort. ”It was about the Jubilee time. He seemed then quite overcome with grief at the loss of his wife. Ah, here's Alicia!”
”Wife!” exclaimed Mrs. Puttock, bestowing on Eleanor a look of deep significance. ”It's my belief he never had a wife.”
Eleanor started.
”What do you mean?” she began, but she checked herself when she found that Alicia was close beside her. She hastily bade Mrs. Puttock good-night.
”I mean what I say,” observed that lady, with an emphatic nod. Eleanor escaped in bewilderment.
”Who never had a wife?” asked Alicia, with a laugh, as they were putting on their cloaks.
After a moment's pause, Eleanor answered,
”Sir John Oakapple,” and she excused this deviation from truth by the sage reflection that girls like Alicia must not be told everything.
”We all know that,” commented Alicia, contemptuously. ”I hoped it was something interesting.”
Eleanor enjoyed a smile in the sheltering gloom of the carriage. She felt very discreet.
CHAPTER VI.
A CANDIDATE FOR OFFICE.
The Premier sent his daughter home alone in a fly and walked with c.o.xon, whose road lay the same way. As they went, they talked of plans and prospects, and Medland unconsciously exasperated his companion by praising Norburn's character and capacity.
”Depend upon it, he's the coming man of New Lindsey,” he said. ”He thinks the world will get better sooner than it will, you may say. Well, perhaps I share that illusion. Anyhow he has enthusiasm and grit, and I love his utter disinterestedness.”
c.o.xon acquiesced coldly in his rival's praises.