An English Squire. Coleridge Christabel Rose
the times,” said Cherry, as he came and stood with his back to the fire, looking down at the parson as he filled his pipe, and smiling at him. Perhaps no other being in the world could have got Parson Seyton to consent to such an innovation, but he loved Cheriton Lester, who little knew how much self-respect the allegiance of his high-principled, promising youth was worth to the queer old sporting parson. One atom of pretence or of priggishness in a well-conducted correct young man would have been of all things odious to him, but the shrewd old man believed in Cheriton to the backbone, and of all the admiration and affection that the popular young man had won perhaps none did him so much credit as the love that made him a sort of good angel to rough Parson Seyton.
“You got my best dog out of me when I gave you Rolla,” he said, “so I suppose you’ll have your own way now.”
“And it’ll turn out quite as well as Rolla,” said Cherry rather illogically.
Parson Seyton set about fulfilling his promise after a manner of his own.
He rapped with his dog-whip at a cottage door and thus addressed the mother: —
“Eh, Betty, there’s a grand new start in Elderthwaite. Here’s Miss Virginia going to turn all the children into first-rate scholars. Wash them up and send them over to my house on Sunday morning, and I’ll give a penny to the cleanest, and a licking to any one that doesn’t mind his manners.”
If Parson Seyton had been a school-board visitor he could hardly have put the matter more plainly, and on the whole could hardly have adopted language more likely to be effectual.
Chapter Eleven.
Alvar Confidential
“He talked of daggers and of darts,
Of passions and of pains.”
The rain had ceased, and long pale rays of sunshine were streaming through the mist as Cheriton made his way through a very dilapidated turnstile and across a footpath much in need of drainage towards Elderthwaite House. As he came up through the overgrown shrubberies he saw in front of him a small fur-clothed figure, and his colour deepened and his heart beat faster as he recognised Ruth. He had been thinking that he should see her ever since his promise to Virginia, but he had not expected to meet her out-of-doors on so wet a day, and he had hardly a word to say as he lifted his hat and came up to her. She was less discomposed, perhaps less astonished.
“Ah! how do you do?” she said. “Do you know when I saw some one coming I hoped it might be your new brother. I am so curious to see him.”
“He is not a bit like any of us,” said Cherry.
“No? That would be a change, for all you Lesters are so exactly alike.”
Ruth had a way of saying saucy things in a soft serious voice, with grave eyes just ready to laugh. Cheriton and she had had many a passage of arms together, and now he rallied his forces and answered, —
“Being new, of course he’ll be charming. Rupert and Jack and I will know all our partners are longing for him. But as he can only dance with one young lady at a time, in the intervals I shall hope – I am much improved in my waltzing – just to get a turn.”
“Really improved – at last?” said Ruth; then suddenly changing to sympathy – “But isn’t it very strange for you all? How do you get on? How do you like him?”
“Oh, he isn’t half a bad fellow, and we’re excellent friends.”
“That’s very good of you. Now I have such a bad disposition that if I were in your place I should be half mad with jealousy.”
Cheriton laughed incredulously.
“I daresay you would stroke us all down the right way. Rupert says he feels as if he were lighting his cigar in a powder-magazine. But they get on very well, and Grace and Mary Cheriton think him perfectly charming.”
“I think I shall come to the ball in a mantilla. But have you done anything for poor Virginia?”
“Oh, yes; the old parson only wanted a little explanation,” said Cherry, quite carelessly enough to encourage Ruth in adding earnestly, —
“It is so good of her to want to help these poor people. Queenie is like a girl in a book. I really think she likes disagreeable duties.”
“I am sure you, who can sympathise with Virginia and yet know all the troubles, will be able to make it smooth for her. I wish you would.”
“Ah, but I am not nearly so good as Virginia,” said Ruth – a perfectly true statement, which she herself believed. Whether she expected Cheriton to believe it was a different matter.
Alvar had no excuse now for finding Oakby dull; the house was full of people, Lady Cheriton and her daughters were enchanted with his music, and he brightened up considerably and was off Cheriton’s mind, so that nothing spoilt the radiance of enjoyment that transfigured all the commonplace gaiety into a fairy dream. The younger ones found the times less good. Jack was shy and bored by fine people, Bob hated his dress clothes, Nettie was teased by Rupert, who varied between treating her as a Tomboy and flattering her as an incipient beauty, and thought her grandmother’s restrictions to white muslin and blue ribbons hard. But Mrs Lester had no notion of letting her forestall her career as a county beauty.
When Cheriton came back from Elderthwaite he found the whole party by the hall fire in the full tide of discussion and chatter, Nettie on the rug with Buffer in her arms complaining of the white muslin.
“Sha’n’t I look horrid, Rupert?”
“Frightful; but as you’ll be sure to bring Buffer into the ball-room he’d tear anything more magnificent.”
“I sha’n’t bring in Buffer! Rupert, what an idea! He’ll be shut up, poor darling! But at least I may turn up my hair, and I shall. I’m quite tall enough.”
“Turn your hair up? Don’t you do anything of the sort, Nettie. Little girls are fashionable, and yellow manes and muslin frocks will carry the day against wreaths and silk dresses. You let your hair alone, and then people will know it’s all real by-and-by.”
“Well, I’d much rather turn it up,” said Nettie simply.
“Well, perhaps I would,” said Rupert. “Fellows might say you let it down on purpose.”
Rupert conveyed a great deal of admiration of the golden locks in his tone, but Nettie, though vain enough, was insensible to veiled flattery.
“Plait it up, Nettie,” said Cherry briefly.
“If anybody thought I did such a nasty, mean, affected thing as that I’d never speak to him again. Never! I’d cut it all off sooner,” cried Nettie.
“Young ladies’ hair does come down sometimes,” said Rupert; “when it’s long enough.”
“Mine never shall,” said Nettie emphatically.
“Don’t do it yourself, then,” said Cherry.
“If Nettie ever takes to horrid, affected, flirting ways,” said Jack, who had joined the party, “I for one shall have nothing more to say to her.”
“You don’t admire flirts, Jack?” said Rupert.
“I don’t approve of them,” said Jack crossly.
“Oh, come, come, now, Jack, that’s very severe.”
“Poor Jack!” said Cherry; “he speaks from personal experience. There was that heartless girl last summer, who, after hours of serious conversation with him, went off to play croquet with Tom Hubbard, and gave him a moss-rose-bud. Poor Jack! it was a blow; he can’t recover from it! It has affected all his views of life, you see.”
“Poor fellow!” said Rupert, as Jack forcibly stopped Cherry’s mouth; “I’d no notion it was a personal matter. Will she be at the ball?”
“No; you see, we avoided asking her.”
“Cherry!” interposed the disgusted Jack,