Lippa Part 11

Ah! what a great deal a pretty woman's smile may do, of good and often alas of harm.

How many men have been lured on by a smile and only too late have awoke from its enchantment. Oh, women, women, some of you hardly take into consideration what a great part you take in the world's drama; with you it lies to make or mar the lives of the men, be they brothers, husbands, sons or merely friends; it is in your power to make them G.o.d-fearing, true gentlemen; and it is you too, who drag them down till they become mere lovers of pleasure, giving way to every vanity, forgetting _surely_ that they are human beings, with immortal souls!

It is tea-time, and in Brook Street Lippa has just begun to pour out that delicious beverage for herself and her brother, when the door opens and Dalrymple walks in.

'Hullo,' says George, 'what an age it is since you have been near the house--'

'Yes,' replies Jimmy, rather lamely, taking Philippa's proffered hand.

'How do you do, again,' says she, 'you will have some tea, won't you?'

Jimmy says, 'Thanks,' and for a second or two there is an awkward pause, neither Lippa nor Dalrymple feeling quite at their ease, and George never speaks except it is necessary; but Teddy suddenly appears, and suggests that the baby ought to be visited, and after a long argument as to who it is like, remembers that he came with a message to the effect that his mother wanted to speak to his father.

'Why didn't you tell me before?' says George.

'I'd forgotten it,' replies his son placidly; nothing ever disturbs Teddy's peace of mind.

'You'll wait till I come back,' says Mr Seaton turning to Dalrymple, and the door shuts.

A little time is pa.s.sed in uninteresting conversation on the weather and things in general, till every subject they can think of has been exhausted, when Lippa finds that Dalrymple is looking at her, she fiddles with her teaspoon in her cup and then raises her eyes to his, and finding them still fixed on her, returns to the teaspoon symphony, but he rises and leans against the mantelpiece.

'Philippa,' he says in a low tone, 'I have tried so hard to think badly of you, but to-day you looked so kindly at me, you did not do it for nothing, did you, Lippa tell me, will you bid me go away a second time?

I am not rich, but I might sell out and get some more remunerative employment, and if you only knew how I love you--'

Miss Seaton has risen, her head bent down and slightly averted from her lover's ardent gaze. 'I--er--I,' she begins then pauses, and not knowing what to say she looks up, makes a step forward and is in Jimmy's arms.

'Oh,' she says, 'I thought it would all come right at last.'

'Dearest,' says he, 'tell me why were you so cruel before; you can't think what I've suffered?'

'So have I,' is the reply.

'But what made you do like that?'

'It's a long story, so don't you think we might as well sit--'

'Sweetheart,' is all he says pressing his lips to her brow.

And then Philippa explains all, for quite half-an-hour they remain alone, and then George, thinking they have been long enough together (he having come in and retired again un.o.bserved in a very inauspicious moment) opens the door, at the same time giving vent to a very loud and prolonged cough.

CHAPTER X

'My dear, I can't tell you how glad I am,' and Lady Dadford bustles across the room to the sofa where Mabel is reposing, 'Where is the sweet girl?'

'Philippa? she is out now,' replies Mrs Seaton, 'but I expect she will be in soon.'

'Well, if I may, I should like to stay and see her,' says the old lady, 'but you are sure I shall not be tiring you; directly you feel you have had enough of me, say so, won't you?'

Mabel laughs and replies, 'I shall like you to stay very much, you have not seen baby yet; we cannot settle on a name. I should like it to be called Lilian, but both George and Lippa say it would be unlucky; he, you know, always hopes we may find her again.'

'And yourself, dear?' asks Lady Dadford.

'I think I have almost given up hope now. You know the body of a little child was found in a river, not far from L---- (where we were living then) and it answered so much to the description of Lilian; she was such a dear little thing. It is worse than if she had died at home and ...'

'Yes, yes, I understand,' says Lady Dadford, 'but I would not give up hope quite. I agree with the old proverb, "Hope on, hope ever," you know. But tell me about Philippa? very happy, I suppose.'

'Perfectly happy,' replies Mabel. 'I can't imagine her as a wife, she's such a child, but Jimmy is sure to take great care of her, and she has come into some money by her mother's death.'

'Ah yes! it must have been a very happy release, a very happy release,'

and Lady Dadford shakes her head gravely. 'Did the dear child ever know anything about it?'

'Yes, she overheard you talking to me that day in the summer, when we went for a picnic, and she foolishly never said a word about it, but made up her mind that she could not marry anyone, because she might go out of her mind, so she refused Jimmy at first, and all this time she has been making both him and herself miserable.'

'Miserable, who is miserable?' asks Lippa, coming in followed by Dalrymple.

'No one, I hope,' says he, 'ah, Lady Dadford,' he continues on catching sight of her, 'how do you do?'

'Better, thank you,' she replies, she always makes a point of answering that foolish question, and invariably does so by saying 'Better'--she has been better for so long that she must have reached a most perfect state of health by now. 'Really much better; I came here to congratulate you: Lippa, my dear, you cannot think how pleased I am,' this accompanied by a kiss.

Lippa cannot think of anything to say and therefore remains silent.

'Anne would have come with me,' rattles on the old lady, 'she sent you all sorts of messages, but she had to go to a cooking cla.s.s, and she felt sure you would understand that it was a case of duty before pleasure.'

'I shouldn't have thought it was a _duty_ for a Marquis' daughter to learn cooking,' thinks Jimmy and something in the merriment depicted in his eyes causes Philippa to cast a reproachful glance at him, and then to enter heart and soul into the question of the use of cooking cla.s.ses; it is some time before the old lady rises to depart, and then, of course, Mabel thinks it necessary that the baby should be visited so they mount to the nursery.

'Well, and what was the cause of the withering glance you directed at me about ten minutes ago?' asks Dalrymple, when they are left alone, Lippa and he.

'You know quite well,' she replies, removing her boa and settling herself comfortably before the fire, her feet resting on the fender.

'I declare I do not,' says Dalrymple, regardless of speaking the truth, for he loves to see Lippa indignant.

'More shame for you then, but you know quite well, you were laughing at Lady Dadford, and what's worse you tried to make me, I hope you are not in the habit of laughing at people, are you? Because if you are I shall certainly not'--

'What?'

'Marry you.'

'Will you throw me over a second time; you will soon become expert at it?'

'Jimmy,' cries she, 'how can you talk like that.'

'You suggested it first,' says he.