Rosa Nouchette Carey

'We must be as courteous to a man as we are to a picture, which we are willing to give the advantage of a good light.'—Emerson.

'She has a most winning manner and a soft voice.'—The Abbot.

Audrey was able to fulfil her promise to Mollie the very next day, when she encountered Mrs. Blake unexpectedly some little way from the town. She was just turning down a lane where one of her protÉgÉes, a little lame seamstress, lived, when Zack suddenly bounded round the corner and jumped on her, with one of his delighted barks, and the next moment she saw a lady in black walking very quickly towards her. She wore a large shady hat that completely hid her face, but there was no mistaking that graceful figure. Mrs. Blake had a peculiar walk: it was rapid, decided, and had a light skimming movement, that reminded Audrey of some bird flying very near the ground; and she had a singular habit as she walked of turning her head from side to side, as though scanning distant objects, which deepened this resemblance.

'What a charming surprise!' she exclaimed, quickening her pace until it became a little run; 'who would have thought of meeting you, my dear Miss Ross, in this out-of-the-way corner? Some errand of mercy has brought you, of course,' with a glance at Audrey's basket. 'That dainty little white cloth reminds me of Red Riding Hood; I would wager anything that under it there are new-laid eggs and butter. Down, Zack! you are sniffing at it just as though you were that wicked wolf himself.'

'I am going to see Rhoda Williams,' returned Audrey; 'she is lame, poor girl! and has miserable health besides, but she works beautifully. Geraldine and I employ her as much as possible. I suppose you and Zack have been having a walk.

'My dear Miss Ross,' with extreme gravity, 'I am not taking an ordinary constitutional—I have come out in the hope of preserving my reason. I have been enacting a new version of Hood's "Song of the Shirt"; for the last two days it has been "Stitch, stitch, stitch,"—how do the words run on?—until I was on the brink of delirium. An hour ago I said to Mollie: "If you have any love for your mother, carry away that basket and hide it; do not let me see it again for twenty-four hours—nature is exhausted;" and then I put on my hat, and, at the risk of spoiling my complexion, came out into this blessed sunshine.'

Audrey laughed; there was something so droll, so mirth-provoking in Mrs. Blake's tone. Any other woman would have said, in a matter-of-fact way: 'I was tired of work, and so I put on my bonnet;' but Mrs. Blake liked to drape her sentences effectively.

'It is very fortunate that we have met,' returned Audrey, when she had finished her laugh, 'for I want to ask you a great favour;' and she detailed her little scheme for Mollie.

Mrs. Blake was evidently surprised, but she testified her gratitude in her usual impulsive way.

'How good, how kind of you, my dear Miss Ross! Indeed, I do not know how to thank you; no one has ever taken so much notice of my poor Mollie before, except that droll old creature Miss Foster; but she could not bear me—a compliment I reciprocated; so we always quarrelled when we met.'

'And you will spare Mollie to me for an hour or so twice a week?'

'Will I not! Do you suppose I am such an unnatural mother that I could refuse such a generous offer? I really am ashamed to tell you, Miss Ross, that I do not know a note of music. When I was a girl I was very perverse, and refused to learn, because I said I had no ear; but in reality I hated the trouble of all those scales and exercises. Of course I am sorry for it now: Cyril is so musical, and has such a delightful voice, and even poor little Mollie has picked up her notes as cleverly as possible.'

'I am so glad you have not refused me. I am sure I shall enjoy teaching Mollie. I think we had better begin as soon as possible. Let me see: this is Friday; will you ask her to come to me on Monday morning? I will be ready for her by half-past eleven.'

'Thank you a thousand times! I will certainly give her your message. What a blessing that new cambric is finished! Cyril will be so pleased when I tell him about your kindness. He worries dreadfully about Mollie sometimes: he says her education is so desultory; but I tell him he cannot alter his mother's nature. I never was methodical; it drives me crazy to do things by rule. Mollie sometimes says to me: "Mamma, I do so wish I had a fixed hour for lessons, that I knew exactly when you could read with me;" and my invariable answer is, "Good gracious, Mollie! don't you know me by this time? am I that sort of person?" I wish for my children's sake that I were different; but they must just put up with me as I am. You can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear.'

'My dear Mrs. Blake, what an odd comparison!'

'Oh, it just came into my head, you know; it is rather strong, but it is very expressive. By the bye, I was going to ask you something. Have you any idea on which day your mother and sister intend to call on me?'

'I believe Geraldine said Tuesday or Wednesday; I really forget which—Wednesday, I think.'

'But it might be Tuesday. Thanks. I would not willingly be out, so I will keep in those two days. Now, I positively must not keep you standing under this hedge any longer; but I feel all the better for this nice little talk.' And after a few more parting words Mrs. Blake went on her way, and Audrey unlocked the gate of Mrs. Williams' cottage.

The short interview with Mrs. Blake had been satisfactory; her request had been granted without demur or difficulty. Mrs. Blake had shown herself in a sensible light. Audrey's benevolence had now a new object; she would spare no pains or trouble with this poor neglected child. To meditate fresh acts of kindness always stirred Audrey's pulses as though she had imbibed new wine. Her sympathetic temperament felt warmed, vivified, exhilarated, as she stooped to enter the low room where Rhoda Williams was expecting her.

Audrey looked forward rather anxiously to her mother and Geraldine's visit. She watched them set out with secret perturbation. They were to call at one or two places besides, but Mrs. Ross assured her very seriously that they would be back to tea; and as Geraldine seemed to consider this as a matter of course, Audrey got over her own business as soon as possible, so as to be back at Woodcote at the same time.

Michael had gone up to town for two or three days, and was not expected home until Monday. Dr. Ross rarely made his appearance in his wife's drawing-room until late in the evening, and, as no casual visitors dropped in, Audrey would be able to cross-examine them to her heart's content. But she knew her mother well enough to be sure that no questions would be needed. Even if Geraldine were inclined to be reserved, to keep her opinions for her husband's ear, Mrs. Ross would be sure to discourse very readily on her own and Geraldine's doings.

'Well, my dear,' she said in her cheery way, as she entered the room, 'here we are, as punctual as possible, and quite ready for a nice cup of tea. Of course Mrs. Fortescue was out—she always is—and Mrs. Cardell was just going out, so we would not detain her; and Mrs. Charrington had her room full of visitors, so we would not stay long there.'

'Of course, as Lady Mountjoy was there, no one else had a chance of getting a word with Mrs. Charrington,' observed Geraldine, with rather a discontented air.

'My love, I am sure Mrs. Charrington was as nice as possible to you; you know what a favourite you are with her. But a person like Lady Mountjoy is always so embarrassing to a hostess. She is so very big, Audrey, and seems to take up so much more room than other people; and, then, she is such a talker!'

'So she is, mother. I don't wonder poor Mrs. Charrington found herself unable to talk to Gage.'

'No; so we did not stay long. What was the use? Well, my dear, I daresay you wonder how we got on at the Gray Cottage? We had a very pleasant visit, on the whole—an exceedingly pleasant visit.'

Audrey's face brightened; this was better than she expected.

'Mrs. Blake was in. I think, from her manner, that she was expecting us.'

'Yes; certainly we were expected,' put in Geraldine, in rather a decided voice.

'She was in the drawing-room, and everything was as nice as possible; and the old servant is very respectable-looking. Mrs. Blake was doing some lovely embroidery in a frame. How exquisitely she works, Audrey! and she selects her own shades, too. That dear little Mollie was reading to her—French history, I think. They did look so comfortable! You are certainly right, my dear: Mrs. Blake is a most charming woman; she has very taking manners, and is altogether so bright and expressive.'

'She is certainly very handsome,' observed Geraldine—'a most striking-looking person, as Edith says. Mother and I agreed that her son is very like her; but, for my own part, I prefer Mr. Blake's quiet manners.'

'But you like her, Gage?' and Audrey looked a little anxiously at her sister.

'I am not quite sure,' was the cautious answer. 'Mother liked her; but, then, mother likes everyone. She was friendly and pleasant—pointedly so; but, in my opinion, she is too impulsive, too outspoken altogether. It is not quite good form. A grown-up person should have more reticence. To me, Mrs. Blake is wanting in dignity.'

'I think you are rather severe on her, Gage. You and Mrs. Blake are very different people.'

'You need not tell me that. Mrs. Blake and I are at the antipodes as far as temperament and sympathy are concerned. You are very impulsive yourself, Audrey, and often speak without thought; but I do not think you are quite so outspoken as Mrs. Blake.'

'Well, perhaps not.'

'It was so unnecessary for her to tell mother, for example, that she was too poor to indulge her social tastes, and that she hoped her Rutherford neighbours would be very sparing of their invitations. It was not as though we had led up to it. Nothing of the sort had been said to prompt such an extraordinary statement. I am sure Percival would have called that bad form.'

'How I do hate that expression!' exclaimed Audrey, rather pettishly. She thought Geraldine more than usually trying this afternoon.

'Still, I am sure you would have agreed with me that it was most uncalled for. Mother was quite taken aback for a moment. She told me so afterwards—did you not, mother?'

'Yes, dear; and, of course, it put me in a difficult position. I am sure I do not know what we were talking about, Audrey. I think I was saying something about Rutherford being a sociable little place.'

'Yes; and then she interrupted you, mother, and said, in an abrupt sort of way, that its sociability would matter very little to her, for, dearly as she loved gaiety, she could not afford to indulge in it. "So I hope no kind neighbours will ask me to dinner, or to any kind of evening entertainment, for I should be obliged to refuse." Now, do you call that quite in good taste, Audrey?'

'I think that it was, at any rate, very honest. I can see none of that pretentiousness that Edith Bryce led us to expect.'

'I don't know,' rather doubtfully. 'Mrs. Blake is certainly not a humble person; she thinks a great deal of herself. At times her manner was almost patronising. She talks a great deal too much about her son. Of course she has a right to be proud of him; but it was a pity to be quite so gushing.'

'It is useless to talk to you, Gage,' returned Audrey impatiently. 'Edith Bryce has prejudiced you too much. You are judging Mrs. Blake very unfairly.'

'I hope not. I do not wish to be unfair to anyone; but I must own that I am sorry that you have such an infatuation for her.'

'I don't know about that; but I am certainly very much interested in the whole family.'

'Yes; and I could not help observing to mother that I thought it a great pity. They evidently look upon you as a close friend. It was "dear Miss Ross" every minute from one or other of them.'

'Audrey has been so good to them, you see,' returned Mrs. Ross, whose soft heart had been much touched by her daughter's praises. 'I am quite sure, Geraldine, that Mrs. Blake meant every word she said; there were tears in her eyes once when she mentioned how unused they were to such kindness. Audrey, my dear, I have asked Mrs. Blake to waive ceremony and come to us on Monday, and I assure you she was quite pleased. She said it was such a treat to her to watch tennis, and that she loved to see her son play. And now, of course, we must ask Mr. Blake.'

'Oh yes, I suppose so.' Audrey spoke with studied indifference. 'It is a pity you are engaged'—turning to her sister—'for we shall have quite a large party.'

'Yes, I am thoroughly vexed about it,' returned Geraldine, 'for Mrs. Charrington is coming too. I wish Mrs. Sheppard would not always fix Monday;' and then, after a little more talk about the arrangements for the tennis-party, she took her leave—Audrey, as usual, accompanying her to the gate.

'I suppose Michael will be back for it?' was her parting question.

Audrey supposed so too, but she was not quite certain of Michael's movements. He had said something about his intention of coming back on Monday, but he might alter his mind before that. Michael had not seemed quite like himself the day before he went to town; she was sure something had harassed him. Geraldine hoped fervently that this was not the case; she never liked dear old Michael to be troubled about anything. And then the two sisters kissed each other very affectionately. Audrey always forgave Geraldine her little vexing proprieties and tiresome habit of managing everyone when she felt her loving kiss on her cheek.

'After all, there are only we two,' she thought, as she walked back to the house. 'I must not magnify Gage's little faults, for she is a dear woman.'

And Geraldine's thoughts were quite as affectionate.

'I hope I have not vexed her too much about this new protÉgÉe of hers,' she said to herself, 'but one cannot pretend to like a person. Audrey is a darling, and I would not hurt her for the world. After all, she is a much better Christian than I am;' and then she had a long, comfortable talk with her husband, in which she indemnified herself for any previous restraint.

'It is so nice to be able to tell you everything, Percy dear!' she exclaimed, as the dressing gong warned her to close the conversation.

'That is the good of having a husband,' he replied, as he put his books together and prepared to follow her.

Michael did not return in time for the tennis-party, but Audrey could only give him a regretful thought—so many people were coming that her hands were quite full. She was busy until luncheon time, and Geraldine good-naturedly came down from Hillside to offer her help, and had to submit to an anxious lecture from her mother on her imprudence in coming out in the heat. Audrey had scarcely time to change her dress before the first guest arrived. Mrs. Blake came early; her son was still engaged with his scholastic duties, and would make his appearance later; but he had not allowed her to wait for him. Audrey saw her coming through the gate, and went at once to meet her.

'Well, Miss Ross, I am making my dÉbut,' she said gaily; 'have I come too early? Do tell me which is the schoolroom window; I want to know where my boy sits; he said he should look out for me.'

Audrey suggested rather gravely that they should walk along the terrace: her mother was on the lawn with Mrs. Charrington. She thought Mrs. Blake looked exceedingly nice in her thin black dress and little close bonnet; nothing could be simpler, and perhaps nothing would have suited her half so well. Audrey felt sure that everyone would admire her; and she was right. Mrs. Charrington fell in love with her at first sight, and to Audrey's great amusement her father paid her the most marked attention.

'My dear, do tell me who that lady in black is,' inquired Gertrude Fortescue, catching hold of Audrey's arm; 'she is perfectly lovely. What magnificent hair she has, and what a sweet smile! Papa is talking to her now, and Mrs. Charrington is on her other side.'

'Oh, that is Mrs. Blake—you know her son, Gertrude.'

'Mr. Blake's mother! why, she looks quite young enough to be his sister. I wish you would introduce me, Audrey; I have quite lost my heart to her.'

'I have brought you another admirer, Mrs. Blake,' observed Audrey mischievously, while Gertrude Fortescue turned red and looked foolish. Mrs. Blake received the young lady with one of her charming smiles.

'Everyone is so kind,' she murmured; 'I am having such a happy afternoon, Miss Ross. I won't tell you what I think of Dr. Ross—I positively dare not; and Mrs. Charrington, too, has been as nice as possible.'

'And now Gertrude means to be nice, too,' returned Audrey brightly. 'Good-bye for the present; I have to play with Mr. Blake, and he is waiting for me;' and she hurried away.

What a successful afternoon it was! Mrs. Blake was certainly making her mark among the Rutherford people; no one in their senses could have found fault with her manners. She was perfectly good-humoured and at her ease; she had a pleasant word and smile for everybody.

'One would have imagined that all these strangers would have made her nervous,' thought Audrey; but it needed a close observer to detect any mark of uneasiness in Mrs. Blake's voice or manner. Now and then there might be a slight flush, an involuntary movement of the well-gloved hands, a quick start or turn of the head, if anyone suddenly addressed her; but no one would have noticed these little symptoms.

'Your mother seems to be enjoying herself,' observed Audrey, as she joined Cyril and they walked across the lawn together.

'Yes,' he returned, with a pleased look; 'she is quite happy.'

'Let us sit where we can see my son and Miss Ross play!' exclaimed Mrs. Blake, rising as she spoke. 'Look! there are chairs on that side of the lawn. What a well-matched couple they are!—both play so well. Miss Ross is not as handsome as her sister—Mrs. Harcourt is an exceedingly fine young woman, and one seldom sees such a complexion in the present day—but, in my humble opinion, Miss Ross is far more charming.'

'Do you think so? We are all very fond of Geraldine, and—oh yes, Audrey is very nice too,' returned Miss Fortescue a little absently. She was considered handsome herself, and it struck her with some degree of wonderment that the afternoon was half over and Mr. Blake had not asked her to play tennis.