Read Ebook: Mr. Jervis Vol. 3 (of 3) by Croker B M Bithia Mary

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Ebook has 830 lines and 48155 words, and 17 pages

XL. THE NEW WEARER OF THE CORNELIAN RING 173

MR. JERVIS.

WHAT PEOPLE SAID--ESPECIALLY WHAT TWO PEOPLE SAID.

He glanced quickly at her partner, and the mystery was instantly solved. Yes, he recollected the man's goggling blue eyes. Where had he seen him? Where? The cordial accost--

"Yes, so you did," nodding. "Glad to see you here to-night. I suppose you have been globe-trotting, like the rest of us!"

"No, not much," rather shortly. Then, to Honor, "This is our waltz."

She gazed at him for an instant in haughty silence, then she answered--

"Yes; but I don't think I shall dance, thank you."

The young lady was passionately fond of dancing, the floor, the inspiriting waltz, a first-rate partner, proved too tempting--"Yes," she said to herself, "just one last waltz, and then--the deluge." Not one word did she utter when they halted for a few seconds. She kept her face purposely averted, and appeared to find an absorbing interest in other people. When they once more launched into the vortex, it appeared to him that she did not dance with her usual buoyancy and light-heartedness. She was as stiff and as rigid as a china doll--apparently she shrank from the support of a millionaire's arm--his embrace was contamination. At last the waltz was over, every one was streaming out, and they naturally followed the crowd. They passed Mrs. Brande, concealing enormous yawns behind a black transparent fan; they passed Mrs. Langrishe, issuing bulletins of Sir Gloster's condition to several interested matrons. They went through the verandah side by side, down the steps, and were brought up at last by the rustic railing overlooking the gardens and tennis-court. It was a warm moonlight night, bright as day, and breathlessly still. Dozens of other couples were strolling, standing, or sitting about in the open air, even the chaperons had come forth to taste the sweets of a June night in the Himalayas.

Before their eyes rose the long range of snows--India's white crown; beneath them lay the gardens--a jungle of dew-steeped roses, tall lilies, and great shrubs of heliotrope. Balsac declares that perfume reminds more vividly than words; be that as it may, the slightest perfume of heliotrope invariably recalled that scene and hour to Honor Gordon's memory.

"So I see that it has all come out!" began Jervis, intrepidly, on the principle that the first blow is half the battle, "and that you know."

"Yes"--turning slowly to face him--"and no thanks to you, Mr. Jervis."

"Of course you are awfully angry with me. Nearly" "as angry as you were with that imp the day you tore up her picture."

"I am not exactly angry," she replied with tremulous dignity. "Why should I be angry? I am merely enlightened. I know who is who now. I dare say you found the little game of deceiving every one most entertaining. You seem to have quite a genius for playing a double part."

"You are awfully rough on me," he interrupted. "But I suppose I deserve it."

"You are disgusted to find that I am not a poor relation," he ventured to remark.

"Oh, come, I say, Miss Gordon, you can't mean that," he expostulated. "At least you will give me a hearing. Be angry--but be just."

She made no reply, but began to strip little bits of bark from the rustic railing, to the utter destruction of her gloves.

"Admitted that I am the millionaire, that is merely to accept the nickname; for it is not I, but my uncle, who is wealthy. He made a fortune in trade, you know--Pollitt's pearl barley--and I am his adopted son. He has brought me up ever since I was ten years old, and has been awfully good to me."

Here she made an impatient movement, as much as to say, What was Mr. Pollitt's goodness to her?

He hurried on faster.

"I wanted to see something of the world. I was deadly sick of the routine of English life--hunting, balls, regattas, theatres; and I got my uncle's consent, with great difficulty, to spend a year in India. I was despatched with a valet, a cargo of kit, and the reputation of millions, with Waring as my guide, companion, and adviser. He is not related to me."

"He is Mrs. Pollitt's brother; and she got him the berth, such as it was," pursued the young man doggedly.

"Little dreaming how luxurious it would become," added the young lady sarcastically.

"No, that was quite unpremeditated. When I first landed, I found that I had achieved a celebrity far beyond my wishes. I was supposed to be a Rothschild. I was bothered to death with touts and hawkers and all that sort of thing"--with a constrained laugh. "I saw that I'd have no peace till I got rid of all my extra luggage and the man. The combination branded me as 'valuable.' Waring had been in the country before, he knew the language and customs, so I made over my account at the bank into his name. He became paymaster, and we held our tongues--that was all. Waring looks rich, and has a genius for spending and making a splash. Now I have not. My tastes are inexpensive, and I have always told my uncle that nature intended me for a poor man."

Miss Gordon picked off another piece of bark with elaborate care, and then threw it away with an air of profound disgust.

"Obliged!" echoed his fair listener, in a cool, incredulous tone.

"And that highly honoured person?" she asked, with arched brows.

"Was yourself."

"Don't jeer at me, please," he exclaimed, in a low, sharp voice. "Once I was about to speak, and I was interrupted by the panther. Afterwards that intolerable child took the words out of my mouth, and you scorned them. For once in her life she told you the truth, the whole truth--I do love you."

There was no tremble or hesitation about these four syllables, but there was considerable amount of trembling about the hand which held a certain white feather fan, resting on the railings. The fan, unaccustomed to such uncertain treatment, slid swiftly away, and fell like a dead white bird into a lily bed below. No one sought it; seconds and sensations were priceless.

"I do love you, better than my own life; but I was afraid to speak, you were so down on money."

How could he guess at the nods, and becks, and wreathed smiles of certain busy old ladies near Hoyle, who had more than hinted at a speedy wedding and a rich husband, as the result of a trip to India? How could he know of blazing eyes and scarlet cheeks, and of a passionate repudiation of, if not India, at any rate a handsome future partner, and money?

"I meant to have told you to-night, on my honour I did; but with my usual cruel bad luck, that little beggar cut in before me. And you are dead against me, and with some reason, I confess; but you must not say that you will never speak to me again. Come, Miss Gordon, give me another chance." As she remained obdurately dumb, he continued with an air of quiet determination, "You will give me an answer by the time I have fetched your fan?"

Honor's anger had as usual cooled. She now began to see things from his point of view, and her indignation immediately transferred itself to Captain Waring. Mr. Jervis had been the tool and catspaw of that unscrupulous free-and-easy gentleman. Yes, she now understood the former's halting allusions to hunting and polo, his half-uttered sentences, and how he had suddenly paused, stammered, and would evidently have been glad to recall his own words. Once or twice she had caught a glimpse, instantly suppressed, of a slightly peremptory manner, the tone and air of one accustomed to being obeyed. She remembered, too, his easy familiarity with money, his--as she had hitherto considered it--insane generosity.

Meanwhile Mark ran down and picked up the white fan from its lily bed, shook the dew-drops from its delicate feathers, and, as he restored it to its owner, he looked straight into her eyes.

"Honor," he said, in a low eager voice, "you will let bygones be bygones, and forgive me, won't you?"

Honor hesitated, her lips trembled as if uncertain whether to laugh or to cry.

"You like me a little--I hope," he pleaded anxiously.

The lips broke into a faint but unmistakable smile.

"I would have spoken to you weeks ago, but that I was uncertain what answer you would give me."

"Oh!" recoiling with a gesture of indescribable horror. "What do you think I meant? I mean, that you might have let us all know who you were."

"Better late than never, I hope," he rejoined quickly. "My uncle knows all about you. May I speak to your aunt to-night?"

"What do you wish to tell her?" she faltered.

"That I am going to be her nephew," he answered, with the utmost composure.

"No--no--no," bursting into a half-hysterical laugh, "you must give me time--I want to think it over."

Although her fingers shook in his hold, she held herself nervously erect, as she stood looking out over the moon-flooded mountains in silence, her eyes fixed on the far-away horizon with the gaze of one lost in meditation. She was crowding many thoughts into the space of seconds. Among them this--

"The gloved hand in which hers was imprisoned, how strong and steadfast--a brave hand to guide and support and defend her through life."

At last, with tremulous nervous abruptness, she made this totally irrelevant and unexpected remark--

And she hastily withdrew her fingers, and looked at him with a mixture of defiance and dismay.

"You think more of what people will say than of me, Honor!" he exclaimed reproachfully.

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