The Independence of Claire Part 2

Claire nodded dumbly. In the case of previous Belgian admirers affairs had been checked before they reached the extreme stage, and she found this, her first spoken proposal much less exciting than she had expected. As a friend pure and simple, she had thoroughly liked Mr Judge, and at the bottom of her heart there lived a lingering hope that perhaps if he loved her very much, and expressed his devotion in very eloquent words, her heart might soften in response. But so far he had not even mentioned love! She was silent for several minutes, and when she did speak it was to ask a side question.

"Is mother willing to go to India?"

She was looking at the man as she spoke, and the change which pa.s.sed over his face, startled her by its intensity. His eyes shone, the rugged features were transfigured by a very radiance of joy. He looked young at that moment, young and handsome, and blissfully content.

Claire stared at him in amazement, not unmingled with irritation. Even if mother _were_ willing, her own consent had still to be obtained. It was tactless to make so sure!

Her own face looked decidedly sulky as she twitched round on her seat, and resumed her stolid staring into s.p.a.ce. Again there was silence, till a hand stretched out to clasp her arm, and a voice spoke in deep appealing accents--

"Claire, dear child, you are young; you have never known loneliness or disappointment. We have! Happiness is fifty times more precious, when it comes to those who have suffered. You would not be cruel enough to damp our happiness! You _can_ do it, you know, if you persist in an att.i.tude of coldness and disapproval. I don't say you can destroy it.

Thank G.o.d! it goes too deep for anyone to be able to do that. But you can rub off the bloom. Don't do it, Claire! Be generous. Be yourself.

Wish us good luck!"

"Wish _who_ good luck? What, oh, what are you talking about?" Claire was gasping now, quivering with a frenzy of excitement. Robert Judge stared in return, his face full of an honest bewilderment.

"Of our engagement, of course. Your mother's engagement to me. I have been talking about it all the time!"

Then Claire threw up both her hands, and burst into a wild peal of laughter. Peal after peal rang out into the air, she rocked to and fro on her seat, her eyes disappeared from view, her teeth shone, her little feet in their dainty French shoes danced upon the ground; she laughed till the tears poured down her cheeks, and her gloved hands pressed against her side where a "st.i.tch" was uncomfortably making itself felt.

Stout Belgian couples pa.s.sing past the end of the avenue, looked on with indulgent smiles, a little shocked at so much demonstration in public, but relieved to perceive that _une Anglaise_ could laugh with such _abandon_. Monsieur they observed looked not sympathetic. Monsieur had an air injured, annoyed, on his dignity. On his cheeks was a flush, as of wounded pride. When at length the paroxysm showed signs of lessening, he spoke in cold stilted tones.

"You appear to find it ridiculous. It seems to amuse you very much. I may say that to us it is a serious matter!"

"Oh no! You don't understand--you _don't_ understand!" gasped Claire feebly. "I am not laughing at you. I'm laughing at myself. Oh, Mr Judge, you'll never guess, it's too screamingly funny for words. I thought all this time, from the very beginning I thought, it was _me_!"

"You thought it was--you thought I wanted--that I was talking of--that I meant to propose to--"

"Yes! Yes! Yes! Me! Me! Me! Of course I did. I've been thinking it for weeks. Everyone thought so. They've teased me to death. You were attentive to me, you know you were. You were always giving me things ..."

"Well, of course!" Poor Mr Judge defended himself with honest indignation. "What else could I do? I could not give them to _her_!

And I wanted--naturally I wanted, to get you on my side. You were the difficulty. I knew that if she had only herself to consider I could win her round, but if you ranged yourself against me, it would be a hard fight. Naturally I tried to ingratiate myself. It appears that I have rather overdone the part, but I can't flatter myself," his eyes twinkled mischievously, "that I've been too successful! You don't appear exactly overcome with disappointment!"

They laughed together, but only for a moment. Then he was serious again, appealing to her in earnest tones.

"You won't range yourself against me, Claire? You won't dissuade her.-- I love her very dearly, and I know I can make her happy. You won't make it hard for us?"

"Indeed, I won't! Why should I?" Claire cried heartily. "I'm only too thankful. Mother needs someone to look after her, and I'd sooner you did it than anyone else. I like you awfully--always did, until I began to be afraid--I didn't want to marry you myself, but if mother does, I think it's a splendid thing."

"Thank you, dear, thank you a thousand times. That's a _great_ relief."

Robert Judge stretched himself with a deep breath of satisfaction.

Then he grew confidential, reviewing the past with true lover-like enjoyment.

"I fell in love with her that first afternoon at the tennis club.

Thought Bridges introduced her as Miss Gifford, put her down at twenty- five, and hoped she wouldn't think me a hopeless old fogey. Never had such a surprise in my life as when she introduced you. Thought for a time I should have to give it up. Then she asked my advice on one or two business matters, and I discovered--" He hesitated, flus.h.i.+ng uncomfortably, and Claire finished the sentence.

"That we are coming to the end of our resources?"

Mr Judge nodded.

"And so, of course," he continued simply, "that settled it. I couldn't go away and leave her to face a struggle. I was jolly thankful to feel that I had met her in time."

"I think you are a dear, good man. I think mother is very lucky. Thank you so much for being my step-papa!" cried Claire, her grey eyes softening with a charming friendliness as they dwelt on the man's honest face, and he took her hand in his, and squeezed it with affectionate ardour.

"Thank you, my dear. Thank _you_! I shall be jolly proud of having such a pretty daughter. I'm not a rich man, but I am comfortably well- off, and I'll do my best to give you a good time. Your mother feels sure she will enjoy the Indian life. Most girls think it great fun.

And of course I have lots of friends."

Claire stared at him, a new seriousness dawning in her eyes. She looked very pretty and very young, and not a little pathetic into the bargain.

For the first time since the realisation of her mistake the personal application of the situation burst upon her, and a chill crept through her veins. If she herself had married Robert Judge, her mother would have made her home with them as a matter of course; but it was by no means a matter of course that she should make her home with her mother.

She stared into the honest face of the man before her--the man who was not rich, the man who was in love for the first time in his life, and a smile twisted the corner of her lips.

"Mr Judge, if I ask you a question, will you promise to give me an absolutely honest answer?"

"Yes, I will."

"Well, then, will you _like_ having a third person living with you all the time?"

Up to the man's forehead rushed the treacherous blood. He frowned, he scowled, he opened his lips to protest; but that flush had answered for him, and Claire refused to listen. "No, no--don't! Of course you wouldn't. Who would, in your place? Poor darlings--I quite understand.

You _are_ middle-aged, you know, though you feel about nineteen, and mother is prettier and more charming than half the girl brides. And you will want to be just as young and foolish as you like, not to be _obliged_ to be sensible because a grown-up daughter is there all the time, staring at you with big eyes? I should be in the way, and I should _feel_ in the way, and--"

Mr Judge interrupted in an urgent voice:

"Look here, Claire, I don't think you ought to corner me like this.

It's not fair. I've told you that I am prepared to do everything for your happiness. You ought surely to realise that I--"

"And _you_ ought to realise that I--" Claire broke off suddenly, and held out her hand with a charming smile. "Oh, but there's plenty of time--we can arrange all that later on. Let's go and find mother and put her out of her misery. She will be longing to see us come back."

They walked down the avenue together, and, as they went, Claire turned her head from side to side, taking in the well-known scene with wistful intensity. How many times would she see it again? As she had said, many discussions would certainly take place as to her future destination, but she knew in her heart that the result was sure.

Providence had decided or her. The future was London and work!

CHAPTER THREE.

MRS. GIFFORD IS MARRIED.

Claire lost no time in writing to Miss Farnborough to apply for the post of French mistress if it were still vacant, and by return of post received a cordial reply. Several applications had been received, but no appointment had been made, and the Head was pleased to confirm her previous offer of a commencing salary of a hundred and ten pounds, and would expect Miss Gifford to take up her duties at the beginning of the autumn term. She congratulated her on her decision, and felt sure she would never regret devoting her life to so interesting and valuable a work, instead of being content to waste it in the pursuit of idle pleasure.

Poor Claire looked a little dubious as she read those last words. The pursuit of pleasure does not as a rule begin to pall at twenty-one; and the old life looked very sweet and pleasant viewed from the new standpoint of change. She put on a bright face, however, and sternly repressed all signs of depression in discussing the matter with her mother and Mr Judge. Her determination evoked the expected opposition, but slowly and surely the opposition decreased, and her arguments were listened to with increasing respect. The lovers were sincerely desirous of securing the girl's happiness, but middle-aged though they were, they were deeply in love, and felt a natural desire to begin their married life without the presence of a third person, however dear that person might be.

Mr Judge applauded Claire's spirit, and prophesied her rapid success as a teacher. Mrs Gifford murmured sweetly, "And if you _don't_ like it, dear, you can always come out by the next boat. Try it for a year. It will be quite an amusing experience to live the life of a bachelor girl.

And, of course, in a year or two we'll be coming home. Then you must spend the whole leave with us. We'll see, won't we? We won't make any plans, but just be guided by circ.u.mstances. If you want somewhere to go in the holidays, there's my old Aunt Mary in Preston, but you'd be bored to sobs, darling. No doubt Miss Farnborough will introduce you to lots of nice people in London, and you will have all the fifteen other mistresses to take you about. I expect you'll be quite gay! ...

Claire, darling, _would_ you have gold tissue under this ninon, or just a handsome lace?"

For the next few weeks things moved quickly. In answer to inquiries about lodgings, Miss Farnborough wrote a second time to say that Miss Rhodes, the English mistress, had comfortable rooms which she was sharing with the present French teacher. She was willing to continue the arrangement, and, as a stranger in town, Claire would doubtless find it agreeable as well as economical. The letter was entirely business- like and formal, and, as such, a trifle chilling to Claire, for Miss Farnborough had been so warm in her spoken invitation that Claire had expected a more cordial welcome. Could it be that the shadow of officialdom was already making itself felt?

The next few weeks were given up to trousseau-hunting and farewell visits, and no girl could have shown a livelier interest in the selection of pretty things than did this bride of thirty-nine. Claire came in for a charming costume to wear at the wedding, and for the rest, what fitted her mother fitted herself, and as Mrs Gifford said sweetly, "It would be a sin to waste all my nice things, but they're quite unsuitable for India. Just use them out, darling, for a month or two, and then get what you need," an arrangement which seemed sensible enough, if one could only be sure of money to supply that need when it arose!

The day before her marriage Mrs Gifford thrust an envelope into her daughter's hand, blus.h.i.+ng the while with an expression of real distress.

"I'm so sorry, darling, that it's so little. I've tried to be careful, but the money has flown. Going out to India one needs so many clothes, and there were quite a number of bills. I'll send more by and by, and remember always to say if you run short. I want you to have plenty for all you need. With what you have, this will see you nicely through your first term, and after that you'll be quite rich."