The Fortunes of the Farrells Part 10

"What time do the posts go, Uncle Bernard? We ought to let mother know of our arrival."

"I have already directed a telegram to that effect to be despatched.

May I suggest that you delay any communication on your own part until we have had a future conversation."

Checkmate! Mollie gave a vague murmur of a.s.sent, and cast about for remark number two.

"It seems so funny to be here and to see all the things we have heard about so often! I recognise this room quite well from mother's description. There is an alcove behind me, isn't there, with a harp in the corner?"

"The harp was removed years ago. I imagine there are a great many alterations since your mother's last visit. The use of the word 'funny'

is somewhat inappropriate, is it not? I see nothing ludicrous in the position."

Check number two! Mollie's wide-eyed perturbation was almost pathetic in its intensity. She was not accustomed to being snubbed in this public fas.h.i.+on, and, after the first shock, a feeling of resentment brought the colour rus.h.i.+ng into her cheeks.

"I meant 'curious.' The two words are often used for each other."

"Mistakenly so. Many situations are curious which are not in the least degree amusing."

"They are indeed!" was Mollie's mental comment. "The present, for example; anything much less festive I fail to imagine." Her lips twitched involuntarily as the thought pa.s.sed through her mind, and, looking up, she met Jack Melland's eyes fixed full on her, with an answering twinkle in their blue depths. For one agonising moment she trembled upon the brink of laughter, when mercifully the door was thrown open to announce the arrival of the vicar and his wife. Mr Thornton was tall and thin, with a much-lined face full of shrewd kindness and sympathy; his wife was a pretty, plump little woman, who looked on exceedingly good terms with herself and the world at large.

"Thank goodness, they will talk! They look alive, not mere graven images," Mollie said to herself thankfully, as the necessary introductions were taking place. Then the squire gave his arm to Mrs Thornton, Mr Thornton offered his in turn to Mrs Wolff, and Victor Druce, evidently obeying a previous instruction, paired off with Ruth, leaving Mollie to his companion.

In silence the little company crossed the hall; in silence they seated themselves round the dinner-table and prepared for the feast. Ruth's grey eyes were brilliant with excitement as she turned from side to side. She did not want to talk; conversation would have been but an interruption at the moment; she wanted but to look and to think.

The walls were covered with portraits of ancestors--Captain Farrell who sailed the seas with Nelson's fleet; General Farrell who fought under Wellington; Lord Edward Farrell, the famous judge; fresh-faced country squires in quaint, old-world costumes. The dim faces looked down from their frames with a curious, haunting likeness running through all; and at the head of the table sat the last of his race, the grim old man to whom death was coming. Ah, it must be hard to look back on so good a race, to realise that no son remained alive to carry on the name, and that one of the strangers now seated round his own table would shortly reign in his place!

Ruth thrilled with pity; her beautiful eyes grew soft and dreamy; and the clergyman, looking at her across the table, could scarcely restrain an exclamation of surprise. He had understood that Mr Farrell possessed only distant relatives, but this girl was a true chip of the old block; allowing for difference of age and s.e.x, here was the same face which was repeated again and again upon the walls--the aquiline features, the melancholy lips, the straight heavy brows.

Mr Thornton knew that the time had come when his host was to choose his successor at the Court, and, looking from one to the other of the four young people, he personally felt no doubt as to the one on whom the choice would fall. Ruth Farrell bore her credentials in her face, and with a thrill, half painful, half amused, he realised how great a factor in his own life this slim young girl might be. As lady of the Court and his own patron, she would have it in her power to ensure his comfort or the reverse. Ah, well, well, it was too early to speculate! The child had a sweet, good face; no doubt all would be well.

While Ruth and the vicar were absorbed in their own thoughts, Mrs Wolff was also silent, overcome with the weight of responsibility which pressed heavily on her unaccustomed shoulders. Little Mrs Thornton prattled of cheery nothings at the other end of the table, and Jack Melland, turning towards his companion, remarked formally--

"I--ah--I think we have met earlier in the day!"

"In the train, you mean; yes! We saw you get out at the station, but you disappeared so quickly that I could not think what had happened to you."

"Nothing mysterious. A dogcart had been sent for me. I jumped into it with my bag, and was out of sight before you had gathered together your possessions."

"Ah, yes; we had boxes in the van." Mollie tilted her head to its characteristic angle and smiled at him with wide grey eyes. "And you watched our toilette across the carriage, little guessing it was for your own benefit. We knew that we were to meet other visitors here, but had no idea who they were or how many there might be. We imagined walking into the midst of a big house-party; hence the preparations. It was only natural we should want to look nice."

"Perfectly! I am glad I was fortunate enough to see the result, since I suppose no one else--"

Mollie shook her head tragically.

"Not a soul! Mrs Wolff met us and sent us straight up to our room. If it had not been for you, the new gloves would have been wasted on the desert air; but now we can console ourselves that our trouble was of some use, after all, since at least half the party had the benefit.

Were you also despatched straight upstairs?"

"I was. Afterwards, Druce and I had tea in the billiard-room, and went on to join you in the library. It has been a somewhat trying opportunity; I sympathised with your conversational efforts before dinner."

Mollie's brows went up at this, and she made a sceptical little grimace.

"That is not my idea of sympathy! You stood by and watched me flounder without making a effort to help. It's not at all pleasant to be snubbed before a roomful of strangers. You might easily have remarked that it was a fine day, or that the train was punctual. Anything is better than a ghastly silence."

"But, you see, I had had my innings before you arrived. As a matter of fact I had introduced those very subjects, and added some original remarks on the beauty of the scenery. I fared no better than you, so my fellow-feeling made me sympathise with you, though I had no spirit to try again."

Mollie laughed under her breath, the influence of her surroundings instinctively subduing the usual merry trill. This Mr Melland was an unexpectedly pleasant companion, now that his former gloom and irritability of manner had disappeared. It was as if a dreaded prospect had been removed, and he was luxuriating in recovered freedom. Mollie wondered what the change of circ.u.mstances could be; time, no doubt, would show; and, when they had reached a greater degree of intimacy, she would tease him about his sudden change of front, and treat him to a pantomimic imitation of his former gloomy frowns. The prospect pleased her, and she laughed again, showing the pretty dimples in her cheek, while Jack Melland looked at her inquiringly.

"What's the joke? May I hear it?"

"Oh, nothing--I was just imagining! All sorts of things fly through one's head, especially to-day, when we really are in an exciting position. At home my sister and I have a very quiet time, and we get most of our excitement in dreams. We imagine things until they are almost real. Don't you know the feeling?"

"No!" cried Mr Melland bluntly. His brows were arched, his nostrils curved with the old look of scornful superiority. "I have no experience of the kind, and I don't want to have. It's a dangerous habit. We have to live among realities, and very commonplace realities, for the most part; and it unfits one for work to be dreaming of impossibilities."

"No, no, no; it helps one! It is like a tonic which braces one up for the ordinary routine."

"It is like a sleeping draught--agreeable for the time, but mischievous and relaxing in its after effects."

Grey eyes met blue with a flash of defiance, then softened into smiles.

"It depends upon disposition," said Mollie firmly. "We find nothing relaxing about it, but a great deal of innocent amus.e.m.e.nt. When we are out shopping and want something badly and can't have it, because it costs five s.h.i.+llings and we only possess half a crown, Ruth says to me, 'Let's pretend a letter arrived by the afternoon post to say someone had left us a million pounds! What would you do first of all?' Then we can talk about it for the rest of the walk, and decide what dresses we would have, and where we should live, and the papers we should have in the entertaining room, and the furniture in our bedrooms; and we choose things out of all the shop-windows as we pa.s.s, and decide where they shall go. I've furnished my house so often that I really know the rooms, and love them into the bargain."

"And when you go back into the real house you are discontented and amazed at the contrast."

"Oh dear, no! That would be silly. I am so refreshed by my visit to the castle that I can laugh over the shabbiness which annoyed me before.

You don't think it wrong to read an interesting book? Very well, then, why is it wrong to indulge in a little fiction on one's own account?"

"Wrong is rather a strong word, perhaps, but there is a great difference between the two. In reading a book you forget yourself in your interest about others; in dreams--excuse me--you think constantly of yourself, and play the part of hero. It is a habit which is inclined to make one consider oneself the most interesting person on earth."

"Well, so you are! To yourself, I mean; you know you are!" cried Mollie, with an innocent _naivete_ which made Mr Melland laugh again.

It was seldom, indeed, that anyone was honest enough to confess to self- love, and her candour seemed infectious, for, on the verge of contradicting her a.s.sertion with regard to himself, a sudden recollection rushed through him of his own thoughts, doubts, conflicts, and final determination of the past twenty-four hours. Did not every one of these concern himself as a primary, if not an only, motive? Was he not exercised, first of all, by a sense of his own importance, so that the wishes of a dying man availed nothing against the preservation of his own dignity? The laugh gave place to a frown as he replied--

"If it is so it ought certainly to be discouraged. One ought not deliberately to pamper selfishness."

Mollie's eyes dropped to her plate, and her lips pouted in an involuntary grimace.

"Rather inclined to preach," she said to herself naughtily, "and so intensely practical and matter of fact! I must devote myself to the education of his higher faculties. I shall have something to say to you, Mr Jack Melland, the first time that will of yours comes into opposition with my own.--'One ought not deliberately to pamper selfishness.'--Delightful sentence! I must not forget it."

CHAPTER TEN.

INTRODUCTIONS.

In the drawing-room, after dinner, Mrs Thornton made herself agreeable to the two girls, and was evidently full of interest and curiosity.

"Having the Court open again will make a great deal of difference to the village in general, and to ourselves in particular," she said, smiling.

"Mr Farrell has been so invalided of late years that we have seen nothing of him, and it is quite an excitement to dine here again. Dr Braithey told us whom we were to meet, and that, of course, added greatly to the pleasure. I hope you will like the neighbourhood, and enjoy your visit. You must let me help you in any way that is in my power. I hope you will, for I love being with young people and making them happy."

One glance at the kindly face of the speaker proved the truth of her a.s.sertion, and both girls a.s.sented gladly. A few hours' acquaintance had proved Mrs Wolff to be a mere figurehead of a chaperon, and Ruth shrewdly suspected that her very weakness had been the attraction in Mr Farrell's eyes, since, in consequence, she would be less likely to hinder that display of character and self-will which it was his object to study. Failing Mrs Wolff, then, it was a comfort to meet this brisk, motherly woman, who might be depended on as a helpful confidante.