One Of Them. Lever Charles James
most brilliant billiard-player,” said May, smiling courteously, with a glance towards the recess of the window, where Layton was leaning over Clara’s chair and reading out of the book she held in her hand. “How I wish you would give me some lessons!” added she, still slyly stealing a look at the window.
“Charmed, – only too happy. You overwhelm me with the honor, Miss Leslie, and my name is not O’Shea if I do not make you an admirable player, for I’ve remarked already you have great correctness of eye.”
“Indeed!”
“Astonishing; and with that, a wonderfully steady hand.”
“How you flatter me!”
“Flatter? Ah, you little know me, Miss Leslie!” said he, as he passed before her.
May blushed, for at that moment Layton had lifted his eyes from the book and turned them full upon her. So steadfastly did he continue to look, that her cheek grew hotter and redder, and a something like resentment seemed to possess her; while he, as though suddenly conscious of having in some degree committed himself, held down his head in deep confusion.
May Leslie arose from her seat, and, with a haughty toss of her head, drew nigh the table.
“Are you going to join us, May?” cried the boy, merrily.
“I ‘m going to take my first lesson, if Mr. O’Shea will permit me,” said she; but the tone of her voice vibrated less with pleasure than resentment.
“I ‘m at my lessons, too, May,” cried Clara, from the window. “Is it not kind of him to help me?”
“Most kind, – most considerate!” said May, abruptly; and then, throwing down the cue on the table, she said, “I fancy I have a headache. I hope you ‘ll excuse me for the present.” And almost ere Mr. O’Shea could answer, she had left the room. Clara speedily followed her, and for a minute or two not a word was uttered by the others.
“I move that the house be counted,” cried the Member for Inch. “What has come over them all this evening? Do you know, Layton?”
“Do I know? Know what?” cried Alfred, trying to arouse himself out of a revery.
“Do you know that Inch-o’-brogue has not left me five shillings out of my last quarter’s allowance?” said the boy.
“You must pay for your education, my lad,” said O’Shea. “I did n’t get mine for nothing. Layton there can teach you longs and shorts, to scribble nonsense-verses, and the like; but for the real science of life, ‘how to do them as has done you,’ you must come to fellows like me.”
“Yes, there is much truth in that,” said Layton, who, not having heard one word the other had spoken, corroborated all of it, out of pure distraction of mind.
The absurdity was too strong for Agincourt and O’Shea, and they both laughed out. “Come,” said O’Shea, slapping Layton on the shoulder, “wake up, and roll the balls about. I ‘ll play you your own game, and give you five-and-twenty odds. There’s a sporting offer!”
“Make it to me,” broke in Agincourt.
“So I would, if you weren’t pumped out, my noble Marquis.”
“And could you really bring yourself to win a boy’s pocket-money, – a mere boy?” said Layton, now suddenly aroused to full consciousness, and coming so close to O’Shea as to be inaudible to the other.
“Smallest contributions thankfully received, is my motto,” said O’Shea. “Not but, as a matter of education, the youth has gained a deuced sight more from me than you!”
“The reproach is just,” said Layton, bitterly. “I have neglected my trust, – grossly neglected it, – and in nothing more than suffering him to keep your company.”
“Oh! is that your tone?” whispered the other, still lower. “Thank your stars for it, you never met a man more ready to humor your whim.”
“What’s the ‘Member’ plotting?” said Agincourt, coming up between them. “Do let me into the plan.”
“It is something he wishes to speak to me about tomorrow at eleven o’clock,” said Layton, with a significant look at O’Shea, “and which is a matter strictly between ourselves.”
“All right,” said Agincourt, turning back to the table again, while O’Shea, with a nod of assent, left the room.
“We must set to work vigorously to-morrow, Henry,” said Layton, laying his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You have fallen into idle ways, and the fault is all my own. For both our sakes, then, let us amend it.”
“Whatever you like, Alfred,” said the boy, turning on him a look of real affection; “only never blame yourself if you don’t make a genius of me. I was always a stupid dog!”
“You are a true-hearted English boy,” muttered Layton, half to himself, “and well deserved to have fallen into more careful hands than mine. Promise me, however, all your efforts to repair the past.”
“That I will,” said he, grasping the other’s hand, and shaking it in token of his pledge. “But I still think,” said he, in a slightly broken voice, “they might have made a sailor of me; they ‘ll never make a scholar!”
“We must get away; we must leave this,” said Layton, speaking half to himself.
“I ‘m sorry for it,” replied the boy. “I like the old villa, and I like Sir William and Charley, and the girls too. Ay, and I like that trout stream under the alders, and that jolly bit of grass land where we have just put up the hurdles. I say, Layton,” added he, with a sigh, “I wonder when shall we be as happy as we have been here?”
“Who knows?” said Layton, sorrowfully.
“I’m sure I never had such a pleasant time of it in my life. Have you?”
“I– I don’t know, – that is, I believe not. I mean – never,” stammered out Layton, in confusion.
“Ha! I fancied as much. I thought you didn’t like it as well as I did.”
“Why so?” asked Layton, eagerly.
“It was May put it into my head the other morning. She said it was downright cruelty to make you come out and stop here; that you could n’t, with all your politeness, conceal how much the place bored you!”
“She said this?”
“Yes; and she added that if it were not for Clara, with her German lessons and her little Venetian barcarolles, you would have been driven to desperation.”
“But you could have told her, Henry, that I delighted in this place; that I never had passed such happy days as here.”
“I did think so when we knew them first, but latterly it seemed to me that you were somehow sadder and graver than you used to be. You didn’t like to ride with us; you seldom came down to the river; you’d pass all the morning in the library; and, as May said, you only seemed happy when you were giving Clara her lesson in German.”
“And to whom did May say this?”
“To me and to Clara.
“And Clara, – did she make any answer?”
“Not a word. She got very pale, and seemed as though she would burst out a-crying. Heaven knows why! Indeed, I ‘m not sure the tears were n’t in her eyes, as she hurried away; and it was the only day I ever saw May Leslie cross.”
“I never saw her so,” said Layton, half rebukefully.
“Then you didn’t see her on that day, that’s certain! She snubbed Charley about his riding, and would n’t suffer Mrs. Morris to show her something that had gone wrong in her embroidery; and when we went down to the large drawing-room to rehearse our tableau, – that scene you wrote for us, – she refused to take a part, and said, ‘Get Clara; she ‘ll do it better!’”
“And