Thelma Part 46

"It is a voice of heaven!" he said in a rapture.

The fair singer was surrounded with people.

"I hope," said Mrs. Van Clupp, with her usual ill-bred eagerness to ingratiate herself with the t.i.tled and wealthy, "I hope you will come and see me, Lady Errington? I am at home every Friday evening to my friends."

"Oh yes," said Thelma, simply. "But I am not your friend yet! When we do know each other better I will come. We shall meet each other many times first,--and then you will see if you like me to be your friend. Is it not so?"

A scarcely concealed smile reflected itself on the faces of all who heard this nave, but indefinite acceptance of Mrs. Van Clupp's invitation, while Mrs. Van Clupp herself was somewhat mortified, and knew not what to answer. This Norwegian girl was evidently quite ignorant of the usages of polite society, or she would at once have recognized the fact that an "at home" had nothing whatsoever to do with the obligations of friends.h.i.+p--besides, as far as friends.h.i.+p was concerned, had not Mrs. Van Clupp tabooed several of her own blood-relations and former intimate acquaintances? . . . for the very sensible reason that while she had grown richer, they had grown poorer.

But now Mrs. Rush-Marvelle sailed up in all her glory, with her good-natured smile and matronly air. She was a privileged person, and she put her arm round Thelma's waist.

"You must come to me, my dear," she said with real kindness--her motherly heart had warmed to the girl's beauty and innocence,--"I knew Philip when he was quite a boy. He will tell you what a dreadfully old woman I am! You must try to like me for his sake."

Thelma smiled radiantly. "I always wish to like Philip's friends," she said frankly. "I do hope I shall please you!"

A pang of remorse smote Mrs. Rush-Marvelle's heart as she remembered how loth she had been to meet Philip's "peasant" wife,--she hesitated,--then, yielding to her warm impulse, drew the girl closer and kissed her fair rose-tinted cheek.

"You please everybody, my child," she said honestly. "Philip is a lucky man! Now I'll say good night, for it is getting late,--I'll write to you to-morrow and fix a day for you to come and lunch with me."

"But you must also come and see Philip," returned Thelma, pressing her hand.

"So I will--so I will!" and Mrs. Rush-Marvelle nodded beamingly, and made her way up to Lady Winsleigh, saying, "Bye-bye, Clara! Thanks for a most charming evening!"

Clara pouted. "Going already, Mimsey?" she queried,--then, in a lower tone, she said, "Well! what do you think of her?"

"A beautiful child--no more!" answered Mrs. Marvelle,--then, studying with some gravity the brilliant brunette face before her, she added in a whisper, "Leave her alone, Clara,--don't make her miserable! You know what I mean! It wouldn't take much to break her heart."

Clara laughed harshly and played with her fan.

"Dear me, Mimsey! . . . you are perfectly outrageous! Do you think I'm an ogress ready to eat her up? On the contrary, I mean to be a friend to her."

Mrs. Marvelle still looked grave.

"I'm glad to hear it," she said; "only some friends are worse than declared enemies."

Lady Winsleigh shrugged her shoulders.

"Go along, Mimsey,--go home to bed!" she exclaimed impatiently. "You are _insense_! I hate sentimental philosophy and copy-book plat.i.tudes!" She laughed again and folded her hands with an air of mock penitence, "There! I didn't mean to be rude! Good-night, dear old darling!"

"Good-night, Clara!" and Mrs. Marvelle, summoning her timid husband from some far corner, where he had remained in hiding, took her departure with much stateliness.

A great many people were going down to supper by this time, but Sir Philip was tired of the heat and glare and noise, and whispered as much to Thelma, who at once advanced to bid her hostess farewell.

"Won't you have some supper?" inquired her ladys.h.i.+p. "Don't go yet!"

But Thelma was determined not to detain her husband a moment longer than he wished--so Lady Winsleigh, seeing remonstrances were of no avail, bade them both an effusive good-night.

"We must see a great deal of each other!" she said, pressing Thelma's hands warmly in her own: "I hope we shall be quite dear friends!"

"Thank you!" said Thelma, "I do hope so too, if you wish it so much.

Good-night, Lord Winsleigh!"

"Let me escort you to your carriage," said her n.o.ble host, at once offering her his arm.

"And allow me to follow," added Beau Lovelace, slipping his arm through Errington's, to whom he whispered, "How dare you, sir! How dare you be such a provokingly happy man in this miserable old world?" Errington laughed--and the little group had just reached the door of the drawing-room when Thelma suddenly turned with a look of inquiry in her eyes.

"Where is Mr. Lorimer?" she said. "I have forgotten to say good-night to him, Philip."

"Here I am, Lady Errington," and Lorimer sauntered forward with rather a forced smile,--a smile which altogether vanished, leaving his face strangely pale, as she stretched out her hand to him, and said laughingly--

"You bad Mr. Lorimer! Where were you? You know it would make me quite unhappy not to wish you good-night. Ah, you are a very naughty brother!"

"Come home with us, George," said Sir Philip eagerly. "Do, there's a good fellow!"

"I can't, Phil!" answered Lorimer, almost pathetically. "I can't to-night--indeed, I can't! Don't ask me!" And he wrung his friend's hand hard,--and then bravely met Thelma's bright glance.

"Forgive me!" he said to her. "I know I ought to have presented myself before--I'm a dreadfully lazy fellow, you know! Good-night!"

Thelma regarded him steadfastly.

"You look,--what is it you call yourself sometimes--_seedy_?" she observed. "Not well at all. Mind you come to us to-morrow!"

He promised--and then accompanied them down to their carriage--he and Beau Lovelace a.s.sisting to cover Thelma with her fur cloak, and being the last to shake hands with Sir Philip as he sprang in beside his wife, and called to the coachman "Home!" The magic word seemed to effect the horses, for they started at a brisk trot, and within a couple of minutes the carriage was out of sight. It was a warm star-lit evening,--and as Lorimer and Lovelace re-entered Winsleigh House, Beau stole a side-glance at his silent companion.

"A plucky fellow!" he mused; "I should say he'd die game. Tortures won't wring his secret out of him." Aloud he said, "I say, haven't we had enough of this? Don't let us sup here--nothing but unsubstantial pastry and claretcup--the latter abominable mixture would kill me. Come on to the Club, will you?"

Lorimer gladly a.s.sented--they got their over-coats from the officious Briggs, tipped him handsomely, and departed arm in arm. The last glimpse they caught of the Winsleigh festivities was Marcia Van Clupp sitting on the stairs, polis.h.i.+ng off with much gusto the wing and half-breast of a capon,--while the mild Lord Masherville stood on the step just above her, consoling his appet.i.te with a spoonful of tepid yellow jelly. He had not been able to secure any capon for himself--he had been frightened away by the warning cry of "Ladies first!" shouted forth by a fat gentleman, who was on guard at the head of the supper-table, and who had already secreted five plates of different edibles for his own consumption, in a neat corner behind the window-curtains. Meanwhile, Sir Philip Bruce-Errington, proud, happy, and triumphant, drew his wife into a close embrace as they drove home together, and said, "You were the queen of the evening, my Thelma! Have you enjoyed yourself?"

"Oh, I do not call that enjoyment!" she declared. "How is it possible to enjoy anything among so many strangers?"

"Well, what is it?" he asked laughingly.

She laughed also. "I do not know indeed what it is!" she said. "I have never been to anything like it before. It did seem to me as if all the people were on show for some reason or other. And the gentlemen did look very tired--there was nothing for them to do. Even you, my boy! You made several very big yawns! Did you know that?"

Philip laughed more than ever. "I didn't know it, my pet!" he answered; "but I'm not surprised. Big yawns are the invariable result of an 'at home.' Do you like Beau Lovelace?"

"Very much," she answered readily. "But, Philip, I should not like to have so many friends as Lady Winsleigh. I thought friends were rare?"

"So they are! She doesn't care for these people a bit. They are mere acquaintances."

"Whom does she care for then?" asked Thelma suddenly. "Of course I mean after her husband. Naturally she loves him best."

"Naturally," and Philip paused, adding, "she has her son--Ernest--he's a fine bright boy--he was not there to-night. You must see him some day.

Then I think her favorite friend is Mrs. Rush-Marvelle."

"I do like that lady too," said Thelma. "She spoke very kindly to me and kissed me."

"Did she really!" and Philip smiled. "I think she was more to be congratulated on taking the kiss than you in receiving it! But she's not a bad old soul,--only a little too fond of money. But, Thelma, whom do _you_ care for most? You did tell me once, but I forget!"

She turned her lovely face and star-like eyes upon him, and, meeting his laughing look, she smiled.