These Old Shades

“In private, sir.”

“Quite unnecessary, my dear Edward, I assure you.” He flicked Leonie’s cheek with one careless finger. “Mr. Marling has no doubt warned you that I am no fit companion for the young and—ah—innocent, infant?”

“No-no.” Leonie tilted her head. “I know all about that, you see. Me, I am not very innocent, do you think?”

“That will do, Leonie!” hastily interposed Fanny. “You’ll drink a dish of Bohea with me, Justin? Leonie shall be ready to accompany you to-morrow. Leonie, my love, I have left my handkerchief in your room. Be so good as to fetch it for me. And Edward may go too. Yes, Edward, please!” So she drove them out, and turned again to her brother. “Well, Justin, I’ve done as you desired me.”

“Admirably, my dear.”

Her eyes twinkled.

“At no small cost, Justin.”

“It is no matter, Fanny.”

She eyed him irresolutely.

“What now, Justin?”

“Now I take her to Avon.”

“With Cousin Field?”

“But could you doubt it?” He bowed.

“Easily.” She curled her lip. “Justin, what is it you intend? You’ve some scheme, I know. I’ll believe you mean no ill by Leonie.”

“It is always wise to believe the worst of me, Fanny.”

“I confess I don’t understand you, Justin. ’Tis most provoking.”

“It must be,” he agreed.

She drew nearer, coaxing him.

“Justin, I do wish that you would tell me what is in your mind!”

He took a pinch of snuff, and shut the box with a snap.

“You must learn, my dear Fanny, to curb your curiosity. Suffice it that I am as a grandfather to that child. It should suffice.”

“It does, in part, but I do so want to know what scheme you have in your head!”

“I am sure you do, Fanny,” he said sympathetically.

“You are very horrid,” she pouted. A sudden smile came. “Justin, what new whim is this? Leonie speaks of you as of a strict governor. ’Tis for ever ‘Monseigneur would not like me to do that,’ or ‘Do you think that Monseigneur would mind?’ It’s not like you, my dear.”

“An I knew less of the world’s ways I should no doubt be a more lenient guardian,” he said. “As it is, Fanny —” He shrugged, and drew his fan from one of his great pockets.

Leonie came back into the room, holding up her gown with one little hand.

“I could not find your handkerchief, madame,” she began, and then saw Avon’s fan. A look of disapproval came over her face; there was a measure of reproof in the candid blue eyes. Avon smiled.

“You will grow accustomed to it, my child.”

“Never,” said Leonie positively. “It does not please me at all.”

“But then,” murmured his Grace, “I do not use it to please you.”

“Pardon, Monseigneur!” she answered contritely, and peeped at him through her lashes. The irresistible dimple quivered.

“She’ll snare him,” thought Fanny. “She is all too fascinating.”

———«»——————«»——————«»———

Justin took his ward down to Avon by coach the following day, in company with Madam Field, on whose amiable vapidity Leonie looked with scant respect. Justin was quick to read her opinion of the lady, and when they arrived at Avon, took her aside.

“This,” said Leonie buoyantly, “is a nice house. I like it.”

“I am rejoiced to hear you say so,” replied his Grace ironically.

Leonie looked round the panelled hall, with its carven chairs, its paintings, and tapestry, and the gallery above.

“Perhaps it is a little sombre,” she said. “Who is this gentleman?” She went to a suit of armour, and regarded it with interest.

“It is not a gentleman at all, my infant. It is the armour one of my ancestors wore.”

“Vraiment?” She wandered away to the foot of the stairs, and inspected an ancient portrait. “Is this another ancestor, this foolish woman?”

“A very famous one, my dear.”

“She has a stupid smile,” Leonie remarked. “Why was she famous? What for?”

“Principally for her indiscretions. Which reminds me, child, that I want to speak to you.”

“Yes, Monseigneur?” Leonie was staring now at a shield which hung above the fireplace. “‘J’y serai’. That is French.”

“Your intelligence is remarkable. I wish to speak to you of my cousin, Madam Field.”

Leonie looked at him over her shoulder, grimacing.

“May I say what I think, Monseigneur?”

He sat down on the great carved table, swinging his eyeglass.

“To me, yes.”

“She is just a fool, Monseigneur.”

“Indubitably. And therefore, my infant, you must not only bear with her folly, but you must be at pains to cause her no trouble.”

Leonie seemed to debate within herself.

“Must I, Monseigneur?”

Justin looked at her, and recognized the naughty twinkle in her eye.

“Because I will it so, my child.”

The little straight nose wrinkled.

“Oh, eh bien!”

“I thought so,” remarked Avon beneath his breath. “It is a promise, Leonie?”

“I do not think that I will promise,” Leonie temporized. “I will try.” She came and stood before him. “Monseigneur, it is very kind of you to bring me to this beautiful place, and to give me everything just as though I were not the sister of an innkeeper. Thank you very much.”

Justin looked at her for a moment, and his lips twisted in a curious smile.

“You think me a paragon of all the virtues, don’t you, ma fille?”

“Oh no!” she answered candidly. “I think it is only to me that you are kind. With some women you are not good at all. I cannot help knowing these things, Monseigneur!”

“And yet, child, you are content to remain with me?”

“But of course!” she answered in some surprise.

“You are full of trust,” he remarked.

“Of course,” she said again.

“This,” said Avon, looking at the rings on his hand, “is a new experience. I wonder what Hugh would say?”

“Oh, he would pull down his mouth, so! and shake his head. I think he is sometimes not very wise.”

He laughed, and laid a hand on her shoulder.

“I never thought, ma fille, to take unto me a ward so much after mine own heart. I beg you will be careful not to shock Madam Field.”

“But with you I may say what I please?”

“You always do,” he replied.

“And you will stay here?”

“For the present. I have to attend to your education, you see. There are things you have to learn that I can best teach you.”