The Triumph of Jill Part 17

Why not look about for someone you can give your heart to?"

"Because I haven't got one to bestow," she retorted. "If I ever possessed such an uncomfortable organ it must have been stolen from me long ago, but I don't feel the want of it so don't miss it at all. I suppose you flatter yourself that Jill has given her heart to you?"

"Yes," he answered smiling, and patting his left side, "I have it here safe enough in place of the one I gave to her."

"Ah!" returned Miss Bolton coolly, "a pretty fancy no doubt, but a fancy all the same, my dear Jack, and absolutely ridiculous."

"Don't be cynical," he said; "it's a sign of the times, and unbecoming."

"And cynical women are generally old maids," laughed Evie. "That won't do for I must have my t.i.tle. I won't die an old maid if I have to advertise in a matrimonial journal."

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

When St. John returned after seeing his cousin safely home it was late in the afternoon, and though the place still remained open business was apparently over for the day. Thompkins and Co. were not over-burdened with customers at any time, and their number since the advent of the new Co. had been steadily on the decrease. Business was slack, the returns were very small, and St. John felt by no means sanguine as to the success of his venture. He had been married a little over four months, and it was only by exercising the greatest care that they managed to pay their way even. Jill was a thrifty housewife--she always had been,--but St. John forgot his straightened circ.u.mstances at times, and launched out a little recklessly. He had not been altogether careful that afternoon, and the consciousness of the fact gave him an unpleasant twinge of remorse as he mounted the steep stairs to their little sitting-room.

Jill was alone standing looking out of the window with her back towards the door, nor did she turn round at his entry. She was displeased.

"You have been a long time," she said.

"I'm afraid I have," he admitted. "You weren't lonely I hope?"

"No; I was too busy for that. And afterwards Mr Markham came in. He has just left."

"Why, he was here yesterday. He surely didn't want his photo taken again?"

"No, I think he wanted a chat, and when he found I was alone he stayed on for company. Have you had a pleasant time? Where did you go?"

"We went and had tea," he answered. He didn't say where; he was ashamed to; it was one of the places where you pay for locality and Miss Bolton had not once offered to share expenses. "And then we spent a little time at the Academy--Evie's fond of pictures you know."

"Oh, yes, I know," agreed Jill drily. "I have a vivid recollection of her pa.s.sion for art; it was so upsetting. I suppose she shut her eyes occasionally? Some people take art like they do physic--shut their eyes and hold their noses except when n.o.body's looking."

"Jill dear, don't be nasty," he said.

Jill laughed.

"I can't help it," she answered. "I'm afraid my nature must be warped I have such a knack of being disagreeable. I could have pinched that horrid little baby this afternoon, it irritated me so; and yet I am fond of children. And I could have been exceedingly rude to Miss Bolton if she hadn't been rude to me first;--of course I wouldn't follow her example in anything."

"Rude to you?--Evie? How?"

"Oh! in an entirely lady-like manner. She merely gave me to understand that she didn't intend to recognise me, and treated me as she would any other shop a.s.sistant. Miss Bolton means taking you up and cutting your wife. I suppose she is perfectly justified."

"Don't be ridiculous, Jill," St. John cried sharply. "Evie means nothing of the sort. She spoke of you most kindly, and said it was a pity you couldn't go with us."

"Ah!" rejoined Jill queerly. "My mistake again. Evie has a mystifying way of showing her kindness, but doubtless she means well. You, I suppose, understand her better than I do, but I shouldn't advise you to try arranging an excursion for three."

"Very well," he returned, "I won't go with her again. I wouldn't have to-day if I had thought it would annoy you. We were like brother and sister always and it was pleasant for me to see her again."

Jill heaved a deep sigh, and leaned her forehead against the window pane. She knew that he had no intention of wounding her feelings yet these unconscious allusions to the sacrifice that he had made in marrying her hurt her more than they need have done. And St. John never guessed. Not for a moment had he regretted the step he had taken, and it did not occur to him that Jill should imagine he might.

"I am not annoyed," she said after a brief pause. "I am irritable this evening, that's all. Mr Markham said that I wasn't looking well; perhaps I am a little out of sorts. Are the pictures good this year, Jack?"

"Good enough. But none of them to come up to yours in my eyes as I told Evie. It's scandalous to think that real talent should get overlooked, yet it's often enough the case."

"Mr Markham," jerked out Jill suddenly, "wishes me to paint his portrait."

St. John laughed.

"Markham is getting vain," he said. "No doubt he purposes presenting it to Evie. When is the first sitting to be?"

"I don't know, nothing is definitely settled, I thought I would speak to you about it first."

St. John looked at her in astonishment.

"Why?" he asked.

Jill hesitated. She had no real reason to offer, but when Mr Markham made the proposal she felt that she would like to consult Jack before deciding. She had consulted him, and now regretted having done so.

"I wasn't sure whether the arrangement would be agreeable to Mr Thompkins," she answered. "He expects me to be available for the studio at all times and seasons you know, and, of course, undertaking this would mean giving a good deal of my time--"

"To hear you one would think," interposed her husband, "that you contemplated painting a mult.i.tude. You know as well as I do that Thompkins will be quite agreeable. I should have thought you would have settled the matter out of hand."

"I am not at all sure that I will undertake it," retorted Jill pettishly. "I hate painting men; they make such horribly uninteresting subjects; and I'm sick to death of the sound of Evie Bolton's name.

Fancy listening for a solid hour to the extolling of her virtues! I don't think I could stand it."

"Oh! that's it, is it?" laughed St. John. "Well, of course, you must please yourself, old girl, but I shouldn't let Evie do me out of a fiver if I were you. Besides I have thought lately that Markham avoids the subject I suppose he twigs that you're not so fond of it as he is."

Jill said nothing. She had noticed the same thing; and could not help wondering why their visitor came so frequently when he no longer cared to discuss the once all sufficing topic. Jack had formerly declared that he only came to talk Evie, but that could hardly be said of him now. Sometimes Mrs Jack fancied that his suit did not progress altogether as he could have wished, and in her womanly, whole-hearted way felt sorry for him. She had been so happy in her own love that she would have pitied anyone less fortunate than herself. Besides she liked Markham and admired his perseverance, though she wondered occasionally whether he would have been quite so devoted had Miss Bolton been penniless like herself.

"I saw the Governor on my way home," observed St. John at length, breaking the silence with a short laugh. Mrs St. John's heart gave a sudden jump.

"He didn't--cut you?" she queried.

"Oh, dear no! bowed to me almost as though he considered me on an equality. Feels jolly rum being treated by one's father like that."

"I call it abominable of him," Jill cried hotly. "He seems absolutely heartless."

St. John looked amused.

"Well, I don't quite see what else he could have done under the circ.u.mstances," said he. "I don't blame him for giving me the kick out and all that as I disappointed him, but I do for not bringing me up to some profession; it's beastly rough luck for me."

Jill laid one small hand upon his shoulder, ever so light a touch but it carried great comfort with it.

"You don't make a good poor man, dear," she said gently. "You should have known my father; he was always cheerful even in his poorest moments; yet no one would have called him careless nor improvident. He was simply brave and self-reliant."

"Little mentor," answered her husband gravely, drawing her face down to his. "I accept the rebuke; there shall be no more complaints. I will be 'up and doing--learn to labour and to wait.'"

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

Notwithstanding her former reluctance Jill eventually undertook the commission for Mr Markham's portrait, though some time elapsed before she started on the work, Markham, himself, being out of town staying as a guest at a house where Evie Bolton was also visiting, a circ.u.mstance that filled St. John with pleasurable antic.i.p.ation, though Jill, less sanguine as to the result, was more inclined to foresee troubles ahead, and looked forward with no great joy to their friend's return. Yet his manner, when he did put in an appearance, conveyed absolutely no impression; as St. John afterwards informed his wife he believed that Markham had funked it.