The Fortunes of the Farrells Part 28

"No, I don't know you--how should I? You never give me a chance. You show me only the frivolous side of your character. You are always laughing, joking, frivolling. In all these weeks I have only once had a glimpse of your real self. You evidently do not wish me to know you in any real or intimate sense; but that is your own fault, not mine."

"If you have seen it only once, it cannot be my real self," said Mollie quietly. She had grown, not red but white, as she listened to Jack's words, and her heart had begun to beat in an agitating fas.h.i.+on hitherto unknown. She felt as if somebody had suddenly dealt her an unexpected blow, for until this moment she had fondly imagined herself to be good friends with Jack Melland. "You do not know me, because, perhaps, there is nothing to know, beyond the frivolous, silly creature you dislike so much!"

"There you go again, exaggerating and catching up my words! Who said I disliked you? We were not talking of likes or dislikes. We were talking of knowing each other properly. I wouldn't trouble my head if you were an ordinary, empty-headed girl, but I know you are not. There is another side to your character, and I want to see and know you in it, but you evade me, and refuse to show yourself. I suppose I am not worth the trouble of talking to seriously?"

Mollie shook her head dejectedly.

"I am not evading, I am not hiding anything. I'm nineteen, and out for a holiday. It's the first taste of luxury I've ever known. I enjoyed it so much,"--unconsciously to herself she used the past, not the present, tense--"that surely it was natural for me to be light-hearted.

I am not highly educated, and I've lived a very quiet life. It's only natural that I seem stupid in comparison with other girls you have met.

I suppose they are very clever and well read?"

Jack kept his eyes on the road, mentally cla.s.sifying the girls with whom he had been most closely brought in contact in his town life. Yes! they were for the most part accomplished and clever; but were they not also apt to be discontented with their lot, given to grumbling at the restrictions of home life, and to imagine themselves ill-used and unappreciated? Mollie's radiant good-humour and unconsciousness of self were qualities unknown among them. What poor, anaemic images they appeared beside her! Yet he was continually provoked by the very cheerfulness which he mentally approved. Jack frowned, puzzled and disquieted. As a rule, he was at no loss to account for his prejudices, but for once he found himself completely mystified. What exactly was it that he wanted of Mollie Farrell, the lack of which rankled in his veins? He could not tell, and annoyance with self gave an added touch of irritation to his tone.

"Oh, if you cannot distinguish between becoming a bookworm and talking seriously once in a way, there is no more to be said! I'm sorry I spoke. Now I suppose you will be offended with me, and the day will be spoiled?"

It was not a gracious speech, but Jack did not feel gracious, and he had not much control over his temper. An inner voice informed him that he was behaving like a cad, and he acknowledged the truth of the indictment, while in the same moment he was prepared to reply more irritably than before.

He had not the chance, however, for Mollie's eyes met his without the faintest shadow of reproach. There was a subtle change in her expression, but it spoke neither of offence nor anger.

"No, I am not vexed; that would be stupid, for it would only make things worse. It is my nature to look on the bright side of things. I know I am thoughtless, but it won't last. I shall be serious enough some day-- perhaps sooner than we think. Don't grudge me my little hour!"

The face raised to his looked so young and wistful that Jack felt a pang of the same remorse which one feels who has wounded a little child. He averted his eyes and drove on in silence, thinking, thinking.--The clever town girl would have been mortally insulted if he had dared to criticise her manners or attainments, and would have justified herself by a dozen plausible arguments. Mollie was ready to admit everything against herself, and only anxious to save him from any feeling of embarra.s.sment.

She talked on impersonal topics all the rest of the way to the vicarage, and her smile when she bade him good-bye was resolutely cheerful, but he hated himself as he realised that for the first time there was an effort involved. As he turned the pony round the corner of the little lane which bordered the lawn he heard Mrs Thornton's surprised exclamation, "Why, Mollie!" and the half-laughing exclamation, "It's nothing! The sun is so strong, it made my eyes--smart!"

Jack Melland set his teeth and drove on in a tumult of feeling such as he had never known before in the course of his self-satisfied existence.

Blundering, presumptuous wretch that he was! If any trouble came to Mollie Farrell, he would feel as guilty as if he himself had deliberately brought it to pa.s.s!

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.

CONFIDENCES.

While Mollie was busy at the vicarage, Ruth took her book to her favourite seat, and prepared to spend a quiet morning; but to her delight, Victor joined her, and took his place by her side, before she had been seated more than a few minutes.

"He will see Lady Margot this afternoon. He need not ride ahead in the hope of meeting her," came the involuntary bitter thought; but it was impossible to harbour jealousy for more than a minute when alone in Victor's company. Every word, every look, every tone, was filled with a subtle flattery which was not only soothing but inspiring into the bargain, for we are always at our best in the society of those who appreciate us.

Ruth gazed, with the old delightful sense of well-being, across the beautiful grounds, in which the long slopes of green and wide-spreading trees had already grown dear and familiar as old friends. Surely every day it became more certain that this would be her home of the future, since Jack was still determined to return to town the moment he was sufficiently recovered from his accident, and Mollie's extravagance was plainly distasteful to Uncle Bernard. As for Victor, if he really-- really meant... Ruth did not finish the sentence even to herself, but at the bottom of her mind lurked the inevitable reflection that she stood a double chance.

Evidently Victor's thoughts had, to a certain extent, followed her own, for he broke the silence by saying suddenly--

"That was an extraordinary statement of Mr Farrell's the other day,-- that he had already made a will. I suppose it is a wise precaution under the circ.u.mstances, but it gave one rather a shock to know that things were already settled."

"Yes, poor old man! one hates to realise how ill he must be. He does not seem to have grown any worse since we came, so far as an outsider can judge, but he must feel his weakness increasing."

Ruth puckered her brows in a distressed fas.h.i.+on, too much occupied with her own thoughts to notice Victor's quick glance of inquiry.

His concern had not been for Mr Farrell or his sufferings, but he was quick to change his tone in response to hers.

"I expect he does," said Victor, "though he is too well-plucked to complain. The doctor told me the other day that these fluctuations are part of the disease, and mean no real improvement. He does not give him long, though he thinks it will probably be six months or more. It must be more or less of an effort to him having us here, and if his mind is already made up, I wonder he does not prefer to go back to his solitude."

"He said he might still change, you remember. The will is only made in case of accidents. It does seem strange to think of it lying there all the time, and that one peep at it would end all our wonderings. I _should_ like to see it!" cried Ruth with an outspoken honesty which apparently shocked her companion.

"Be careful what you say, Miss Ruth! Farrell is just the sort of cross- grained old fellow to take all sorts of ideas into his head if he heard you. And, besides, you can surely guess for yourself what name you would find!"

Ruth lifted her face to his in quick inquiry. The brown eyes were for once fully open and looking down at her with an expression half smiling, half melancholy. "You know it would be your own!" he said softly, and she flushed in quick denial.

"No, no; it's impossible to be certain. I hope, of course, but-- At first I thought Uncle Bernard liked me best, but lately Mollie seems to have cut me out."

"But we are told that liking has nothing to do with the great decision."

"I know, and that does away at once with so many qualities with one fell swoop, that one can hardly tell what is left. It puts amiability out of the question, and unselfishness and cheerfulness, and--and tact, and everything which makes us care for a person or not. When they are gone, what is left?"

"A great many things, just as Mr Farrell's knowledge of our characters and actions is far more extensive than you suspect. We meet at meals, and in the evening, and for the rest of the day one would imagine that we are beyond his ken, but I have discovered that to be a mistake. In some mysterious fas.h.i.+on he knows all that we do, and guesses fairly accurately what we think! ... Would you imagine, for instance, that he knew that this seat was our favourite resort, and that we have enjoyed some very pleasant _tete-a-tetes_ here during the last few weeks? Would you imagine that he knew who gave me that white rosebud which I wore as a b.u.t.ton-hole last night?"

Ruth's face was a rose itself at that moment, a red, red rose, as the colour flew from her cheeks up to the roots of her hair. Her eyes wavered, and fell.

"How can he know? How do you know he knows?" she queried confusedly; and Victor shrugged his shoulders.

"How, I can't tell you, but I suspect his man James is a useful source of information. I know that he knows, because of several caustic remarks which he has let fall from time to time, to which my legal experience easily gives me the clue. I have come to the conclusion that he knows pretty well what we are about every hour of the day!"

"Even when you go out riding by yourself, and meet Lady Margot in the lanes?" questioned Ruth, stung by a sudden rising of jealousy, which she was unable to control. The words were no sooner spoken than regretted, and regret deepened into shame as Victor turned his calmly surprised eyes upon her.

"Certainly! as I told him myself in the first instance. Since then I have been fortunate enough to meet her again once or twice. The good vicar saw us together on one occasion; I presume he hurried home forthwith to spread the news over the parish. In these dead-alive places the most casual acquaintance is magnified into a scandal, but fortunately Lady Margot is a woman of the world who is unaffected by silly chatter. She has a dull time at the Moat, and is glad to meet a fellow-creature with whom she can have a few minutes' conversation.

Personally, I don't care what the whole parish pleases to say. There is only one person whose opinion matters. ... Ruth! what are you trying to imply?" He moved nearer to her as he spoke, until the arm which rested on the back of the seat almost touched her shoulder. "Lady Margot is pleased to be friendly and gracious, but she does not belong to my world. She is a star far above the head of a poor struggling barrister, even if he were fool enough to aspire to her, which he certainly would not do so long as there are inhabitants of his own sphere a hundred times more beautiful and more attractive."

Ruth shook her head, her eyes fixed shyly on the ground.

"If the barrister were the heir to the Court, it would make all the difference in the world. Uncle Bernard spoke very warmly of the Blount family. It might increase your chance," she urged, compelled by some impulse which she could not understand to argue against her own wishes.

"Perhaps the condition has something to do with ambition, and pride of race."

"In that case, again you score the advantage, for you are his direct descendant. I think myself, however, that it refers entirely to money.

He has warned us that he has peculiar ideas on the subject. Probably he is on the look-out for a similar peculiarity. He has consulted me, and Melland also, I believe, on several matters in connection with the estate; but my ideas are purely businesslike, and Melland is hopelessly happy-go-lucky, so there was nothing original in either his advice or mine. No! from whichever point of view I consider the question, I always come to the same conclusion. You are the nearest heir; you are a Farrell in name as well as appearance. You are not extravagant nor thoughtless like your sister. To Melland, as well as to myself, the result is a foregone conclusion. I would congratulate you on the spot if I could do so honestly.--I wonder if you will in the least understand what I mean, when I say that I wish it had been any one of the four rather than yourself?"

The face that was raised to his was for a moment simply shocked and surprised, but under his steady gaze comprehension dawned, and Ruth turned hastily aside, saying, in a tremulous voice which vainly struggled to be defiant--

"I shall remind you of that unkind speech when you are living in state, and I am toiling for my daily bread. I could not have believed you would be so unkind."

"I am not afraid, for that day will never dawn. Remember it, rather, when you are reigning here, and a poor fellow stifling up in town refuses the invitations because he longs to accept, and dare not, remembering the difference between us!"

It was pretty plain speaking, and Ruth did not pretend to misunderstand its meaning. At that moment all doubts died away. She believed herself to be loved, and as her lover considered himself in an inferior position to her own, she was generous enough to show him her own feelings in return. The dark lashes rested upon her cheeks, her lips quivered like a child's, as she said softly--

"If I did own the Court, if Uncle Bernard left me everything he possessed, it would be worthless to me if--if I were separated from the friends I cared for most."

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.