'Very well, mother,' he said. 'It is due to her.'
And so, though the choir did have at least half Armine's share of the price of 'Marco's Felucca,' he threw himself most heartily into the Christmas party, was the poet of the versified charade, acted the strong-minded woman who was the chief character in 'Blue Bell;' and he and Jock gained universal applause.
Allen hardly appeared at the party. He had a fresh attack of sleepless headache and palpitation, brought on by the departure of Miss Menella for the Continent, and perhaps by the failure of 'A Single Eye' with some of the magazines. He dabbled a little with his mother's clay, and produced a nymph, who, as he persuaded her and himself, was a much nobler performance than Andromache, but unfortunately she did not prove equally marketable. And he said it was quite plain that he could not succeed in anything imaginative till his health and spirits had recovered from the blow; but he was ready to do anything.
So Dr. Medlicott brought in one day a medical lecture that he wanted to have translated from the German, and told Allen that it would be well paid for. He began, but it made his head ache; it was not a subject that he could well turn over to Babie; and when Jock brought a message to say the translation must be ready the next day, only a quarter had been attempted. Jock sat up till three o'clock in the morning and finished it, but he could not pain his mother by letting her know that her son had again failed, so Allen had the money, and really believed, as he said, that all Jock had done was to put the extreme end to it, and correct the medical lingo of which he could not be expected to know anything. Allen was always so gentle, courteous, and melancholy, that every one was getting out of the habit of expecting him to do anything but bring home news, discover anything worth going to see, sit at the foot of the table, and give his verdict on the cookery. Babie indeed was sometimes provoked into snapping at him, but he bore it with the amiable magnanimity of one who could forgive a petulant child, ignorant of what he suffered.
Jock was borne up by a great pleasure that winter. One day at dinner, his mother watched his eyes dancing, and heard the old boyish ring of mirth in his laugh, and as she went up stairs at night, he came after and said-
'Fancy, I met Evelyn on the ice to-day. He wants to know if he may call.'
'What prevents him?'
'Well, I believe the poor old chap is heartily ashamed of his airs. Indeed he as good as said so. He has been longing to make a fresh start, only he didn't know how.'
'I think he used you very ill, Jock; but if you wish to be on the old terms, I will do as you like.'
'Well,' said Jock, in an odd apologetic voice, 'you see the old beggar had got into a pig-headed sort of pet last year. He said he would cut me if I left the service, and so he felt bound to be as good as his word; but he seems to have felt lost without us, and to have been looking out for a chance of meeting. He was horribly humiliated by the Friar looking over his head last week.'
'Very well. If he chooses to call, here we are.'
'Yes, and don't put on your cold shell, mother mine. After all, Evelyn is Evelyn. There are wiser fellows, but I shall never warm to any one again like him. Why, he was the first fellow who came into my room at Eton! I am to meet him to-morrow after the lecture. May I bring him home?'
'If he likes. His mother's son must have a welcome.'
She could not feel cordial, and she so much expected that the young gentleman might be seized with a fresh fit of exclusive disdain, that she would not mention the possibility, and it was an amazement to all save herself when Jock appeared with the familiar figure in his wake. Guardsman as he was, Cecil had the grace to look bashful, not to say shamefaced, and more so at Mrs. Brownlow's kindly reception, than at Barbara's freezing dignity. The young lady was hotly resentful on Jock's behalf, and showed it by a stiff courtesy, elevated eyebrows, and the merest tips of her fingers.
Allen took it easily. He had been too much occupied with his own troubles to have entered into all the complications with the Evelyn family; and though he had never greatly cared for them, and had viewed Cecil chiefly as an obnoxious boy, he was, in his mournful way, gratified by any reminder of his former surroundings. So without malice prepense he stung poor Cecil by observing that it was long since they had met; but no one could be expected to find the way to the other end of nowhere. Cecil blushed and stammered something about Hounslow, but Allen, who prided himself on being the conversational man of the world, carried off the talk into safe channels.
As Cecil was handing Mrs. Brownlow down to the dining-room, wicked Barbara whispered to her cousin John-
'We've such a nice vulgar dinner. It couldn't have been better if I'd known it!'
John, whose wrath had evaporated in his 'cut,' shook his head at her, but partook of her diversion at her brother's resignation at sight of a large dish of boiled beef, with a suet pudding opposite to it, Allen was too well bred to apologise, but he carved in the dainty and delicate style befitting the single slice of meat interspersed between countless entrees.
Barbara began to relent as soon as Cecil, after making four mouthfuls of Allen's help, sent his plate with a request for something more substantial. And before the meal was over, his evident sense of bien-etre and happiness had won back her kindness; she remembered that he was Sydney's brother, and took no more trouble to show her indignation.
Thenceforth, Cecil was as much as ever Jock's friend, and a frequenter of the family, finding that the loss of their wealth and place in the great world made wonderfully little difference to them, and rather enhanced the pleasant freedom and life of their house. The rest of the family were seen once or twice, when passing through London, but only in calls, which, as Babie said, were as good as nothing, except, as she forgot to add, that they broke through the constraint on her correspondence with Sydney.
CHAPTER XXXV. THE PHANTOM BLACKCOCK OF KILNAUGHT.
And we alike must shun regard From painter, player, sportsman, bard, Wasp, blue-bottle, or butterfly, Insects that swim in fashion's sky. Scott.
'At home? Then take these. There's a lot more. I'll run up,' said Cecil Evelyn one October evening nearly two years later, as he thrust into the arms of the parlour-maid a whole bouquet of game, while his servant extracted a hamper from his cab, and he himself dashed up stairs with a great basket of hot-house flowers.
But in the drawing-room he stood aghast, glancing round in the firelit dusk to ascertain that he had not mistaken the number, for though the maid at the door had a well-known face, and though tables, chairs, and pictures were familiar, the two occupants of the room were utter strangers, and at least as much startled as himself.
A little pale child was hurriedly put down from the lap of a tall maiden who rose from a low chair by the fire, and stood uncertain.
'I beg your pardon,' he said; 'I came to see Mrs. Brownlow.'
'My aunt. She will be here in a moment. Will you run and call her, Lina?'
'You may tell her Cecil Evelyn is here,' said he; 'but there is no hurry,' he added, seeing that the child clung to her protector, too shy even to move. 'You are John Brownlow's little sister, eh?' he added, bending towards her; but as she crept round in terror, still clinging, he addressed the elder one: 'I am so glad; I thought I had rushed into a strange house, and should have to beat a retreat.'
The young lady gave a little shy laugh which made her sweet oval glowing face and soft brown eyes light up charmingly, and there was a fresh graceful roundness of outline about her tall slender figure, as she stood holding the shy child, which made her a wondrously pleasant sight. 'Are you staying here?' he asked.
'Yes; we came for advice for my little sister, who is not strong.'
'I'm so glad. I mean I hope there is only enough amiss to make you stay a long time. Were you ever in town before?'
'Only for a few hours on our way to school.'
Here a voice reached them-
'Fee, fa, fum, I smell the breath of geranium.'
And through the back drawing-room door came Babie, in walking attire, declaiming-
''Tis Cecil, by the jingling steel, 'Tis Cecil, by the pawing bay, 'Tis Cecil, by the tall two-wheel, 'Tis Cecil, by the fragrant spray.'
'O Cecil, how lovely! Oh, the maiden-hair. You've been making acquaintance with Essie and Lina?'
'I did not know you were out, Babie,' said Essie. 'Was my aunt with you?'
