Volume I Part 5 (1/2)

A cold-water douche would hardly have been a greater shock to her.

”I meant I wanted to be useful here.”

”Oh! You wanted to be useful. In what way?”

Poor Grace!

”I thought you would like me to order dinner, and--look after things.”

”Have you had any experience? I thought you had always been at school.

Did you order the dinners there?”

There was something almost insolent in his tone, and Grace through all the thick skin of her self-love, which generally prevented her seeing or feeling any intended slight, winced.

She rallied her courage, however, and said, ”As we are with you and it is usual for a lady to be the mistress of the house, I thought....”

John Sandford threw himself back in his chair and laughed out loud. He was immensely tickled by this girl's a.s.sumption. His sense of humour--rarely touched--was reached by it; the situation seemed to him to have all the elements of the ridiculous in it, and his laugh was an unaccustomed and noisy laugh--under no control. An angry flush rose on Grace's face, Margaret saw it, and, as usual, threw herself into the breach--

”Grace only meant to do what she thought was her duty,” she said bravely, ”and it is unkind of you to treat her so--and, my dear Grace don't mind,” and she rose and threw her arms round her.

”You are right, my girl,” said Mr. Sandford, looking at her with increased respect. ”It's a pity your sister does not take a leaf out of your book. 'Those who don't walk on tiptoes need never come down on their heels,' a homely saying but a true one;” then turning to Grace, against whom he felt no softening influence, he said drily, ”I am obliged to you for offering to make yourself the mistress of my house, and of not wis.h.i.+ng to eat the bread of idleness, and all the rest of it.

It all sounds very fine, but if I wanted a mistress--which I do not, being provided with one already--I should not choose an inexperienced girl under twenty, for the post. However, I have to tell you it is not necessary. My sister, Mrs. Dorriman, comes to-morrow, to be the mistress of this house; without her or some one like her, I could not have asked you here; and when she comes, it is my wish that you look up to her and obey her in all things.”

Here was a thunder-clap. The girls looked at each other in dismay. His sister! she would then be a feminine edition of himself! All the poor children's dreams of having their time to themselves, and of being to all intents and purposes free, fell to the ground; the shock made Grace silent and Margaret's eyes filled with tears.

”I hope you quite understand,” Mr. Sandford said roughly, pleased by the effect he had produced, ”I have not reached my time of life to be worried and troubled by female rows and disturbances--and, if you cannot make up your mind to swallow your pride and knock under, you will have to find out some other way of eating bread, whether of idleness or the reverse.”

With the scowl that clouded his face whenever he was angry he looked at Grace, resolutely keeping his face away from Margaret, whose glance had a strange influence over him, and, pus.h.i.+ng back his chair, he rose and walked out of the room.

Grace rose also. She was pale and defiant, not in the mood to tolerate even Margaret's caresses, she went to their own room; and, chilly though it was, she threw open the window, feeling as though she was suffocating. For the first time in all her life she had been spoken to rudely and insolently, and made to feel her dependence. Fate was indeed cruel: why was she left to the mercy of the world and Mr. Sandford? She would not stay with him--to be bullied and hectored and ordered about by him and his sister. She would go--but where?

The spasm of pain, of rage, and of indignation, surged through her--for the first time in all her life her vanity and her self-love had been sorely wounded. She was suffering acutely, and just at that moment when she was railing against her fate and every one connected with it a letter from her old school-mistress was put into her hands. She read it and shrank as she did so, the fond words in which so much affectionate flattery was mixed, struck her almost as though written in mockery, she was not to allow her present life of splendour to make her idle: she had such great gifts, she was to use them; she was not to allow vanity about her personal appearance to disfigure her mind; though queen-like in appearance she was to walk humbly, &c. &c.

She sat down, staring at her surroundings. What splendour was there in the four-post bed with its moreen curtains and the hideous carpet which was the exact opposite of all she had been taught to like? She did not pursue the thought, and it never dawned upon her that her great gifts and her queen-like grace were equally untrue. She accepted everything, and no one can blame her for so doing, but no greater cruelty could have been done her than the false standard and over-estimation of herself given her, so completely enshrouding her, that one day the awakening would be terrible to her.

Her sister's innocent pleasure over the letter and the hearty way in which she endorsed the flattery, made her once more a comfort to her, and once again she turned towards her and spoke.

”What are we to do about this woman, this sister, this Mrs. Dorriman, Madge?”

Margaret laughed softly.

”You will get the better of them all in time,” she said; ”you make every one do as you like; every one admires you so much; you are so clever, darling, and so beautiful. I am quite sure you will marry a duke.”

Grace smiled; she was beginning to forget the wound she had received, and her sister's consolations were very sweet to her. She went to bathe her face and said, laughingly,

”Unfortunately no dukes are in sight here; and Margaret,” she said suddenly, with a little shudder, ”I feel as if in this dreary place no one will ever come.”