The Spider and the Fly. Garvice Charles
seated himself at the piano, struck a few chords, and commenced a barcarole in so sweet and yet powerful a voice that Violet was charmed.
The music drew Mrs. Mildmay into the room from another part of the house, and the morning, which Violet had feared would be extremely dull, promised to pass away most pleasantly.
While he was singing, Violet heard her door open.
She was standing at the piano, and she did not turn her head, but raised her eyes to a mirror which hung over the instrument, and which reflected the whole of the room.
As she did so, she saw that the door was opened by the captain's servant, and her gaze was riveted by the picture which the mirror showed her.
The man, thinking himself unobserved was standing, with the door handle in his hand, with such an expression of infinite mockery and sardonic amusement on his evil face that Violet felt herself fascinated and strangely impressed by it.
Suddenly the captain raised his eyes, and she knew by the look of mingled anger, alarm, and suspicion which displaced the smile upon his face that he was conscious of her fixed attention upon the mirror.
He finished the song abruptly, turned his head, and saw Jem Starling, whose face instantly resumed its usual snug demureness.
"Well, James?"
"A letter, captain," said James, "marked 'immediate.'"
The captain took it.
Jem left the room.
"Pray, do not mind us," said Mrs. Mildmay, and, with a bow, the captain took out his letter, which he had thrust into his pocket.
He was almost on the point of returning into the hiding place, for at a glance he saw that it was only a sham one – an old envelope sealed up.
However, with his usual quickness, he decided to open it, and, accordingly, made a slight fuss with the seal, and, taking out a piece of paper, read:
"The pleece inspector's cum down to-day."
Captain Murpoint smiled.
"Business, my dear madam; business men always mark their letters 'immediate,'" and he thrust the letter into his pocket, and commenced talking as if the matter were of no moment.
Violet played a little, and practiced some new song, and Mrs. Mildmay ventured to pass through the French window into the garden, the captain accompanying her.
It was after they had left the room that Violet, happening to glance at the carpet, saw a scrap of paper by her side.
It was the captain's note.
"'The pleece inspector's cum down to-day,'" she said; "why, where can this have come from?"
For the moment she thought that it must be the letter which the captain had received, but the scrap of paper had so little of the appearance of a missive that had come through the post, and the information seemed to have still less connection with the captain, that she dismissed the idea.
"Strange," she said, and, with a laugh, she put the piece of paper in her pocket.
The captain had pulled it from his with his pocket handkerchief.
CHAPTER VII
IMPRESSIONS
Five o'clock came, and with it Leicester Dodson.
It had been very warm out all day; it was warm still, but Mr. Dodson did not look at all distressed, and his velvet lounging jacket hung loosely and comfortably upon his strong, muscular frame.
"Have you courage enough to face the weather?" he said, putting his head through the window frame, "or do you give in?"
"No," said Violet, laughing; "on the contrary, I feel quite brave. I will not keep you long. Will you take a seat while I get my hat?"
He entered, sauntered to a chair, and dropped into it, prepared to wait the three-quarters of an hour which ladies usually require for donning hat and cape.
But Violet was quick and impulsive in all her actions, and before ten minutes had passed he heard her voice on the stairs again, speaking to a servant.
Before she entered the room, however, the door opened, and Captain Murpoint came in.
"Oh, here you are, Mr. Dodson," he said. "Can you tell me at what time the post goes out?"
"Six o'clock," said Leicester.
"So soon?" returned the captain. "I am afraid I shall be compelled to deprive myself of the pleasure of accompanying you. I have some rather important letters to write, and shall barely have time to get through them."
"I am sorry for that," said Leicester Dodson, quietly telling a polite falsehood, for he was in reality rather glad than otherwise, and looked forward with no little satisfaction to a tête-à-tête with Violet.
"So am I," said the captain, and, as he spoke, he looked round about the room, as if searching for something.
"Lost anything?" asked the other, in his slow, indolent way.
"Y – es," said Captain Murpoint, "a letter. I have dropped it from my pocket, and I fancied I should see it in this room."
At that moment the door opened and Violet entered.
The captain ceased his hunt immediately, and, murmuring softly, "It's of no consequence," turned to Violet and told her that he should be compelled to remain at home.
"I am sorry," said Violet, echoing Leicester's words, and with as little truth.
And she passed out onto the lawn.
"I don't know whether James has harnessed the ponies properly," she said, doubtfully, as the groom appeared, leading up the pretty pair tandem fashion.
"No, he hasn't," said Leicester, after examining them.
And he quietly explained to the man how the operation should be performed.
Then he handed Violet into the little toy phaeton, and took the reins.
At first the ponies, unused to their novel positions and quite fresh after two days' rest, showed signs of rebellion, and started first to one side, then the other, and at last the leader ventured to attempt the feat of walking on his hind legs.
But Mr. Leicester's iron hand drew him to earth again, and, with a touch of the long whip, hinted to him that a very different driver than Miss Violet sat behind him.
After a few minutes they settled down more quietly, and, as the feathery phaeton was rattled down the well-kept road to the village, Violet's face flushed and her eyes sparkled with pleasure.
"How delightful!" she exclaimed; "and how easy it looks!"
"Come and try," said Mr. Leicester, and he pulled the ponies up until he had changed seats with her.
Then Violet found that tandem-driving was one of those feats which look easier to perform than they really are. Her hold on the reins was not tight enough; the artful little creatures knew her gentle touch, and the leader commenced his old trick, and, in spite of all Violet's skill, insisted upon turning round, as if he meant to enter the carriage and take a ride himself.
Mr. Leicester smiled, and Violet pouted.
"Hold the reins tighter," he said, "and give Master Dot – or Spot? which is it? – a clean, little cut on the left side."
She did so, and Master Dot immediately spun round to the right.
Then Mr. Leicester showed her how to keep him straight by whipping him on the right, and Violet managed to drive him straight for some little distance until they came to a sharp corner.
"Now, take care," said Mr. Leicester; but his warning came too late.
Dot cut the corner rather close, Spot, of course, cut it closer, and the phaeton would have been over, and its contents spilled like eggs, had not Mr. Dodson's hand closed on the small ones of Violet, and tugged the leader round.
For the second time Violet learned how hard and firm that hand was, and involuntarily she uttered a little, sharp cry of pain.
"I