Beyond The Blue Mountains - Plaidy Jean - Страница 60

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“Now Marcus!” said Kitty, trying to make her daughter believe that Jonathan Crew had not been the one in her thoughts.

“What do you think of Marcus?”

Carolan was silent, surveying their faces side by side in the dusky mirror. What did she think of Marcus? She did not know.

There is a certain mystery about that fellow,” went on Kitty.

“La! There are times when I could think him a veritable simpleton … and at others, there he is the man of the world!”

“I too,” said Carolan, ‘sometimes feel that he is not all that he would have us believe.”

There! Do you not find life interesting here, my dear?”

“Very interesting. Mamma.”

“More interesting than Haredon, I would say.”

Why did the girl shudder? What had happened at Haredon? Charles? He was a little beast, that boy. Could it be … Something had made her run away; and that parson had not been there to help her. A pox on that parson! Why in God’s name did a high-spirited girl like Carolan want to pledge herself to a parson? Why did she want to wait on his letters? Why, when one arrived, did it fill her with melancholy? How Kitty wished that she could put a spoke in this arrangement of Carolan’s with her parson! Everard Orland! She remembered him well; a tall, lanky, pale-faced boy … fastidious! A nincompoop! And betrothed to Carolan!

And what a lover Marcus would make! Kitty sighed for the passing of the years. If she were but Carolan’s age… The letter was showing above Carolan’s bodice. I wish I knew what the nincompoop has said to her, thought Kitty.

“Marcus is indeed an amusing man,” she said aloud.

Carolan went to the dressing-table and stood there, smiling at her mother.

“And you seem to find me most amusing, Carolan.”

“Most, darling.”

“I am not at all sure that your mirth pleases me.”

“I laugh because of your tremendous interest in these men.”

“And why should I not be interested in my friends?”

“But, Mamma, you do not know the first thing about Millie.”

“Millie? And why should I, pray?”

“If you were interested in human nature as such…”

“Indeed I am interested in human nature..

“But only when it is of masculine gender!”

“Well, and what do you know of Millie?”

“More than I know of Marcus or Jonathan.”

“Indeed! I am sorry to hear you profess such interest in a scullery maid!”

“Mammal You have the dignity of a queen.”

“And you, Carolan, have the vulgar curiosity of a serving-girl. Tell me, is Silly Millie your bosom friend, your confidante?”

Carolan came to her mother and touched her cheek with her finger. Now Kitty could see the paper more clearly and the black writing upon it. His handwriting was thick and bold, as though he were very sure of himself.

“No, Mamma, she is not. But I discovered that she and her family live in one large room at the end of Grape Street, and that there are many of them, and often no coal to make a fire, and often nothing but stale bread to eat.”

“She told you that?”

“It came out… she did not exactly tell me. Mamma, could we not have Millie to live here?”

“Your father is all against it; he says we cannot afford to keep a girl in the house.”

“It would surely cost no more; and in the circumstances…”

“Your father says no. Though it would suit me well to have the girl about ‘the place.”

“I cannot understand my father; he must guess what Millie’s home is like. I will speak to him.”

“There you go. You see, I am right when I say you have more interest in a serving-girl than in friends of your own standing.”

“No, Mamma, you misunderstand. I am interested in those two men. But, Mamma, do you not feel it… there is something in both of them … something remote … something … I feel I express myself badly, but do you not feel they are keeping something back?”

“Something in check. That is it. My dear, beware of Marcus.”

“How … beware. Mamma?”

“He is a very passionate man, and I have seen how his eyes glitter at the sight of you. I have heard stories of abductions ….”

Carolan laughed, and the letter fell from her bosom to the floor, but she laughed so much that she did not notice this, and Kitty was able to drop a lace handkerchief over the letter and pick them both up unnoticed.

“You may laugh, my dear,” said Kitty, putting the letter and the handkerchief on a small table, ‘but be careful I Never ride alone with Marcus. Never walk alone with Marcus. I could tell you some stories, I vow.”

“I have no doubt that you could.” Carolan leaned across the dressing-table, and in the dust on the mirror sketched two faces. In one she accentuated the lean features of Jonathan, and in the other the rather large ones of Marcus.

“There, Mammal There they are one either side of your mirror. You may study them and probe into their minds as much as you wish.”

“And very good likenesses too. Particularly of Jonathan!”

“He lends himself to caricature! There is a leanness about the man. Something of the bloodhound …”

“Anyone less like a bloodhound I never saw!” Carolan twisted her features into a grimace and by some artistry she captured the expression of Jonathan Crew. She sniffed around after the manner of a dog.

“And what have we here? I declare this is a fascinating house … And then he looks at you, Mamma, as though he finds you almost as fascinating as the house. Almost… but not quite!”

“Nonsense!” said Kitty.

“Nonsense indeed that he should find a gloomy old house more fascinating than you. The man must be crazy!”

“At least he is not a bit like a bloodhound.”

“Well, that is of what he reminds me. Then Marcus … sometimes his eyes are like a spaniel’s … in expression, I mean. Sentimental, pleading. But sometimes they are mischievous as a terrier’s and often as vapid as those of a pekinese.”

“I trust,” said Kitty, ‘that you are not so critical of Everard!” Then she could have slapped herself for such folly, for was that not the way to remind Carolan of the letter? She went on in a panic: “And now, my dear, be off with you. Run down and tell your dear friend Silly Millie to put the kettle on.”

Carolan smiled over her shoulder and went out. Kitty ran to the table and waited, listening to the sound of Carolan’s footsteps. She took the letter from the folds of the lace handkerchief, and ran her eyes hastily over it.

“I will come for you,” he had written, ‘as soon as the three months are up. I work very hard here, and plan what we shall do when you are here with me. I trust you are enjoying your stay with your parents. Do not get such a taste for Town life that the country will seem dull to you. Oh, how I wish the three months were up! Were it not for breaking my promise I should be with you there now …”

Carolan was coming back. How quickly she had missed the letter! Cunningly Kitty threw it onto the floor near the door; she was struggling into her dress as Carolan came in.

“Well, dear?”

“I thought I dropped something. Oh, yes …”

She pounced upon the letter, and tucked it into the bosom of her dress.

“Can I help you. Mamma?”

“No, dear. I am all right, thank you.” Her face was red with guilt, and Carolan had such penetrating eyes. She was relieved when Carolan went downstairs again.

“Bah!” said Kitty aloud.

“A milksop!

“How I wish the three months were up!”… “were it not for breaking my promise…”

A lover should never make promises to others than his mistress! Why, were I Carolan, I would say: “Forsooth, sir, if your promise to your mother is of more importance than the vows you would make to me, well, then is it so important to you that I should be your wife?”

Kitty tossed her head. She was playing the part now. She was Carolan, young and defiant and desired. Invitingly she smiled at the drawing of Marcus.

“I would know more of you, sir, before I pledged myself!”

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