The Beautiful Wretch; The Pupil of Aurelius; and The Four Macnicols Part 3

Wouldn't you rather stay at home? and I will keep you company----'

'Don't be silly, child,' said her eldest sister. 'Do you think your dress cost nothing?'

The worst time of all was the waiting in Spring Gardens, where there was a block of carriages. It was all darkness, and expectation, and the hopeless sense that, being imprisoned in this slowly moving line, there was no escape. But when they were once at the entrance, and when Nan got a glimpse at the hall, her courage revived wonderfully. There was such a crowd of people--coming, going, waiting, looking for friends, and arranging dresses--that she felt that she could slip into this self-interested throng, and be lost from observation altogether.

She began to be forgetful of herself. When they were going up the stairs she heard names after names announced that she was quite familiar with--either through the newspapers or through the conversation at luncheon-tables; and she was almost anxious to get quickly up to have a glimpse at these celebrated people. When she got to the landing, she did not see Lady Stratherne at all; for her eyes were filled with wonder at the blaze of light and colour beyond--the draperies of flags, and ma.s.ses of chandeliers--and she said, under her breath, 'Oh, mamma, isn't it beautiful!' The next thing she heard was 'Nan, dear, how well you are looking! What beautiful forget-me-nots!'

and in a startled way she found that she was shaking hands with Lady Stratherne, whose kind eyes were regarding her with a momentary approval. Instinctively, however, she knew from the way that her hostess's eyes had turned to the next comers--there were far too many loiterers about this landing, and Lady Stratherne had enough to do to prevent a dead block on the stairs--that she need not stay to speak; so she followed her mother and sisters into the large, brilliantly-lit room. Oh, how glad she was that it was crammed with this dense busily-occupied crowd! She felt quite safe; she felt happy; she was pleased that those few forget-me-nots looked nice. And there was no dancing at all. 'Oh, mamma, tell me who all the people are,' she said.

She began to consider herself quite at home in the middle of such a crowd of strangers; she had only to be delighted with the blaze of colour, the brilliant costumes, the scent of flowers, the wonders of diamonds.

Momentarily her great good fortune increased. Friends of Lady Beresford began to come round her; and they made a sort of circle, as it were; and Nan found she could keep herself just a little bit outside of it, seeing everything, herself unseen. Her cup of happiness was full. She had pa.s.sed the ordeal unscathed. Why, it was nothing! All the people were engaged with themselves; there was not a sound of music; nothing but a hum of talking, and always that bewildering glow of light and colour, and here and there a figure and face suddenly revealing to her somebody she recognised from photographs and portraits in the ill.u.s.trated papers. She was becoming quite lost to herself.

She could have stood there for ever. She was not thinking of Nan Beresford at all when----

When suddenly there was a long low growl from a violoncello. Her heart sank.

Almost at the same moment she saw another little group--of elderly men, mostly--open out at one corner of the room near her; and the next thing she knew was that Sir George's keen eyes had caught sight of her. He was by her side in a second.

'What,' said he, 'standing all alone? Why, where's Charley? What's Charley about? Lady Beresford, how are you? Ah, Mary? Edith, you are lovelier every day. But where is that rascal Charley? I must find a partner for my sweet-heart----'

'Oh, please, Sir George,' said Nan, with her heart beating fast.

But by this time there was a noise of preparatory music, and in the middle of the crowd there was something visible like the formation of a double line. At the same instant young Charley Stratherne came hurriedly along, with an eagle eye for possible partners. Him his father instantly seized.

'Where's Frank King? Go and get Frank King. I want Frank King.'

And behold, Frank King was at his elbow!

'Sir George----?'

'Oh, that's you, Frank King. Ask this young lady if she will dance with you----'

'Come on, Frank,' said the youthful M.C., in his hurried bewilderment of duty. 'You'll just do. Let me introduce you to Miss Anne Beresford. Lieutenant King. They want a couple at the other end.'

So he disappeared in the crowd; and Nan found herself in the possession of this young naval officer, who seemed to take matters very coolly, considering that they were wanted right at the top of the s.p.a.cious a.s.sembly-room. Happily, she heard from the music that it was the Lancers that was about to begin; so she was not entirely dismayed.

'I suppose we shall get through somehow,' said he, surveying the close ma.s.s of people with the eye of a strategist. The clearing of the s.p.a.ce in the middle had naturally made the surrounding crowd denser.

'I think it will be difficult,' said she, timidly.

'Well, we can try this end,' said he, about to lead her in that direction.

'Oh!' she said, very earnestly, 'I am sure we shall only embarra.s.s them if we have another set at this end. And--and--I am not anxious to dance the Lancers. I would as soon not,' she said.

Then for the first time it seemed that he turned towards her; and as she happened to be looking up at him to impress on him that she would as soon not dance, she instantaneously lowered her eyes and sought refuge in the little scented programme.

'Perhaps,' said he, after the fifteenth part of a second, 'perhaps you would give me a dance that you like better.'

Her innocent answer was to hand him her programme, upon which there was as yet not a sc.r.a.p of writing. So, when that matter was arranged, he said to her,

'Would you like to see this dance, then? It's very pretty, when you are at a little distance. And I know how to get to that recess there; it's raised a few inches, you know; and I think you could see.'

'Oh! I should like that!' she said. How grateful she was to him!

They made their way to this side recess, which had been built out, temporarily, from the drawing-room, for the sake of additional s.p.a.ce.

It was decorated with trailing-plants, trained on trellis-work; and two or three circles of red candles, amid so much green foliage, had a pretty effect. There were a few people standing about and looking on at the dancing, or talking; it was possible to talk, for here the music was softened.

Nan's companion led her to a raised bench, from which she could see very well; but even as she sat down, and while she was so glad to have been relieved from dancing out there amid all those people, she was touched by some strange misgivings. It was her duty to have danced.

She had been presented with a partner; and if only she had not shown herself reluctant, she knew very well he could have found places for them. Were not officers always fond of dancing? And then it suddenly occurred to her that she ought to try to make him some amends. She ought to entertain him with brilliant conversation, as it were.

Meanwhile, what was he doing? Not thinking of her--except as a b.o.o.by, a child who could not talk. No doubt he was looking out at all those beautiful women there, and wis.h.i.+ng he was not imprisoned in this corner.

Nan timidly raised her eyes, and instantly dropped them again. He had been for the moment looking at the forget-me-nots in her hair.

CHAPTER IV.

THE SAME.

Nan was growing desperate. Speak she must, if only to let him know that she was sensible of his kindness in affording her this blissful relief; for she believed it was entirely on her account that he had proposed to sit out the dance. So she said, wildly,

'You go to a great many b.a.l.l.s, I suppose?'

'Oh, dear no,' he said. 'I am not much ash.o.r.e.'

Of course. She might have known. Was there not an air of command about him, young as he was? No doubt he held far too important a position to waste time on idle entertainments.

'I mean earlier--as a mids.h.i.+pman,' she stammered. 'You must have been to many places, and--and--I thought the life of a mids.h.i.+pman was nothing but parties and b.a.l.l.s, along with a great deal of mischief.

That is what one reads, you know, about the young gentlemen--always tumbling into trouble, and always getting happily out of it, and always amusing themselves just as much as they amuse others.'

This was not so bad. Nan's face had brightened; she regarded him with her clear eyes.

'You are thinking of Captain Marryat,' said he, laughing. 'But times have changed sadly for the middy since then. It isn't all beer and skittles now. Nowadays, the poor chap can scarcely call his soul his own; and if he is going in for his Three Ones----'

'I beg your pardon; what is that?' she said, with a grave interest.

'Trifling little things,' said he, jocosely. 'Only first-cla.s.s certificates in gunnery, seamans.h.i.+p, and mathematics; then, to finish up with, the unhappy youth has to look forward to an interview or two with the hydrographer, who isn't at all a gentleman to be made a fool of.'

How was it that she knew instinctively that this young officer had got his Three Ones--nay, that he had carried them off easily, triumphantly?

What was there in his manner, or the shape of his forehead, or his expression, that rendered her perfectly certain that he had nothing to fear from all the hydrographers ever born?

'Why, even in my time, I can remember, when the middy was allowed a good deal more law,' he continued; and now he had sat down beside her, and her eyes met his quite frankly. 'I remember a fearful scene at Cherbourg, at a ball there; that was when the fleet went over, and there was a great round of festivities. Well, this ball, I think, was given by the Mayor--I am not quite sure; but, at all events, the mids.h.i.+pmites were invited with the rest, and those who could get leave went of course. Well, we had the run of the refreshment-room, and we used it. There was far too much champagne, and all our seniors were in the ball-room,--the Duke of Somerset, and the whole of them,--so we set to work to chaff the waiters in unknown tongues. Anything more patient or friendly than the conduct of these amiable creatures I never saw.

They entirely entered into the spirit of the thing, and grinned and nodded in high glee when we inquired about their mothers and sisters--in English, of course; and then we tried bad French on them, and Welsh, with a touch of Lancas.h.i.+re thrown in; and then they grinned all the more, and shrugged their shoulders. My chum Greville was the worst, I think; he kept asking for all sorts of ridiculous things, and was very angry when he couldn't get them. "_Avez-vous du vin de c.o.c.kalorum_?" he asked of one fellow: of course Greville spoke real true-blue English-French. "_Coque-a-lorrrrme_?" said the waiter. "_Je crois que non, Monsieur----._" "_Pourquoi n'avez vous pas du vin de c.o.c.kalorum_?" said Greville, with great indignation. "_C'est une chose monstrueuse. Nous sommes les invites de la grande nation Francaise; nous sommes les officiers de sa Majeste la Reine d'Angleterre; et vous n'avez pas du vin de c.o.c.kalorum!_" There was enough of other wine, at all events,' added Frank King. 'I am afraid there was a good deal of headache next morning among the younger officers of her Majesty's fleet.'

'Weren't you afraid,' said Nan, who had forgotten what shyness was by this time; 'weren't you afraid the French might be tempted to take a mean advantage and capture the fleet bodily?'

'It would have been no more mean advantage,' said he, with a laugh, 'than we used to take in fighting them when they were sea-sick.'

'Sailors sea-sick?' she exclaimed.

'Yes, that's just where it was,' he said, and the friendly interest he displayed in this young lady was very wonderful. Already they seemed to have known each other for a quite indefinite time. 'Mind you, people laugh nowadays at the old belief that one English sailor was as good as seven French ones. But it was quite true; and the explanation is simple enough. The fact was that the English kept such a strict blockade of the French ports that the French sailors never had a proper chance of finding their sea legs. They never got out. When they did come out they had to fight; and how can you expect a sea-sick man to fight? But I was talking of that chum of mine, Greville. He was the coolest hand I ever came across. Once he and I--when we were mids, you know--had to go down by rail from Genoa to Spezia----'