The Fate of Fenella. Various Authors
("Quarrels are so upsetting to one's digestion," was Castleton's thought. Yet not for anything would he have missed the human interest of the scene, which was "as good as a play." Still the lull of talk was ominous, so he desperately addressed the only person from whom no explosion was to be feared.)
"What is coming next, waiter?"
"Suckie-pig, sir," responded the gentle German.
Ronny's curly pate appearing on a level with the table-cloth, and nestling between his mother and Jacynth confidingly, was a welcome diversion. All eyes turned with relief on the rosy, roguish face, alone unconscious of hidden trouble among them.
"It will soon be dessert-time; I may stay, mayn't I, mummy?" coaxed the child confidently.
Then to beguile the time, he produced some glass marbles from his pocket, aiming at the salt-cellar, where his friend Jacynth fielded and sent them back. With her arm around her son, Fenella was chatting animatedly to De Mürger, rejoicing inwardly in her immense superiority over her opposite foes in possessing Ronny. A vagrant ball escaping the latter's fingers, cannoned off a dish and flew straight into madame's lap. With a secret honeyed glance at Ronny, she feigned to detain it.
"No, you mustn't! That would be stealing, and then you would be put in prison," remonstrated the child. Then looking at her with the sweet familiarity of one of Raphael's cherubs, "Were you ever in prison?"
Mme. de Vigny, who was just lifting a full glass of claret to her lips, started, so that some wine was spilt. She raised her delicate brows, with a glance of charming dismay at Onslow's gloomy face.
Castleton and Jacynth, noticing the accident, exchanged furtive, surprised looks. But Ronny, no more heeding that red splash than if he had slopped over his glass of milk, announced in joyous tones, "Because I was—very nearly. Grandison and me were very naughty once, and his nurse tried to give us to a p'leeceman, but we pulled at her dress so hard she couldn't; and the p'leeceman shook his finger at me and said, 'Next time!'—Oh, I say!"
Suddenly diving, so that his little body eluded Fenella's grasp, to her surprise he rushed round the table and flung himself against Frank, who had annexed the truant marble, and was ostentatiously secreting it in his own pocket.
"Give it me! It's mine! You must! Please!"
Frank held the treasure nearer, then embracing the boy's shoulders with one caressing arm, stooped and deliberately kissed the sweet, childish face.
"Take it, there. Why, you will soon be old enough to go to school."
Raising his head, he looked straight at Fenella with such defiance that the wrathful jealousy, boiling within her at so flagrant a show of authority, suddenly cooled.
With a shiver at the warning, she nevertheless had spirit to retort with cool, decisive command: "Ronny, come here. You must stay by me, dear, and not go to—other people." Then she rustled from the table with superb displeasure at Frank's unwarrantable liberty. Both De Mürger and Jacynth sprang up, too, in quick rivalry, as her bodyguard. They were soon followed by Castleton, who found it poor fun to watch only Onslow's lowering face, and Jezebel, as he secretly politely designated Mme. de Vigny.
Before the hotel door the night was still and cool; stars had begun to twinkle in the "blue vaults, magnificently deep."
"So you have to suffer such insults," De Mürger impetuously whispers in Fenella's ear. "Let me avenge you. Ah! you did right to send for me."
"No, no, you must not take your own way to help me. Wait—I must just ask Mr. Jacynth to do something for me. Then I will come back and talk to you, murmurs Fenella, frightened, therefore sweetly deceitful. Then drawing her mentor apart, while Castleton eagerly fastens on the prey she has left, she entreats: "Help me. Keep the count and Frank from fighting; anything but that!"
"For goodness' sake get rid of De Mürger. He is so embroiling," counseled Jacynth.
"How can I? After bringing him here a long journey to-day, can I whistle him away to-morrow?" she responds with naive indignation. "It is as bad as putting back the bottle-imp."
"Then you—some of us must leave. The situation is too strained."
"You advise flight; and I, who am just spoiling for a fight, as the Irish say———" she was actually laughing again, it was too bad.
"If you will stay, let me make you acquainted with my sister Helen, Grandison's mother," said Jacynth softly, pity stirring his heart-strings for this young creature. "She is a good sort—a genuine woman."
"Thank you," said Fenella absently, looking round. "What is the count about; and where is Ronny?"
CHAPTER VI.
BY F. C. PHILLIPS.
The next morning Jacynth called upon his sister and explained to her that he wished her to extend a helping hand to Lady Francis Onslow. He had told Fenella that his sister Helen was "a good sort—a genuine woman," and he was, therefore, disagreeably surprised when he found the view that lady took of the situation.
"Lady Francis Onslow?" she said, raising her eyebrows. "She is separated from her husband, is she not?"
"Yes, but it is not her fault," answered Jacynth quickly. "Onslow treated her very badly."
"I remember something about it," said his sister. "I think there was a kind of shuffling of the cards and a new deal. Lord Francis took up with a Frenchwoman and his wife consoled herself with M. de Mürger. Is not that the story?"
"It is a garbled account of it. Lady Francis was perfectly innocent," said Jacynth hotly.
"I have no doubt, but all the same I think I would rather have nothing to say to her. It is always a foolish thing to interfere between husband and wife."
"I do not ask for your interference, Helen," said her brother. "I merely ask you to let me introduce you to Lady Francis, and I should like you to be kind to her."
"Why are you interested in her?"
"Because I think she has been badly treated, and because she is an impulsive, reckless little woman who will benefit much from your advice."
"I dislike impulsive, reckless little women," said Helen, "and I would much rather not know her."
"You are very unkind, dear, and quite unlike your usual self. Lady Francis has got herself into a fix, and you must really get her out of it—to please me."
"What fix has she got herself into?"
"Well, I will tell you. Her husband is here, as of course you know, and immediately after his arrival Mme. de Vigny appeared on the scene. Poor Lady Francis, who is naturally outraged at his conduct, telegraphed to De Mürger to come down, and this will, of course, make things look black for her if you do not give her your help and moral support. She does not know any ladies here, and of course she has acted imprudently."
"Yes, she has acted imprudently and stupidly. It only confirms my impression that I would rather not know her," said his sister.
"But, Helen, she is very young, and she has no one to advise her."
"She has you to advise her," laughed Helen; "and as you are a clever, rising barrister, I should have thought you would have been wise enough to have prevented her telegraphing for her lover."
"He is not her lover," shouted Jacynth loudly.
"As to her extreme