The Dull Miss Archinard Part 17

"You mustn't tease me, Katherine," said Peter. He found her very dear, and kissed her hand again.

Part II

HILDA.

CHAPTER I

"Well, Hilda, we have some news for you!" With these words, spoken in the triumphant tone of the news-breaker, the Captain greeted his daughter as she came into the drawing-room at half-past six. Odd had been paying his respects to his future parents-in-law, and was sitting near Mrs. Archinard's sofa. He rose to his feet as Hilda entered and looked at her, smiling a trifle nervously.

"Guess what has happened, my dear," said the Captain, whose good humor was apparent, while Mrs. Archinard murmured, "_She_ would never guess.

Hilda, only look at your hat in the mirror." It was windy, and Hilda's shabby little hat was on the back of her head.

"What must I guess? Is it about you?" she asked, turning her sweet bewildered eyes from Odd to her father, to her mother, and back to Odd again.

"Yes, about me and another person."

"You are going to marry Katherine!" Her eyes dilated and their sweetness deepened to a smile; "you are going to marry Katherine, that _must_ be it."

"That is it, Hilda. Congratulate me." He took her hands in his and kissed her. "Welcome me, and tell me you are glad."

"Oh! I am very glad. I welcome you. I congratulate you!"

"You will like your brother?"

"A brother is dearer than a friend, and you have always been a friend, haven't you, Mr. Odd?"

"Always, always, Hilda; I didn't know that you realized it."

"Did _you_ realize it?"

"_Did_ I, my dear Hilda! I did, I do, I always will." Hilda's face seemed subtly irradiated. Her listless look of pallor had brightened wonderfully. No one could have said that the lovely face was dull with this sudden change upon it. Peter felt that he himself was grave in comparison.

"And I am going to claim all a brother's rights immediately, Hilda."

"What are a brother's rights?"

"I am going to look after you, to scold you, to see you don't overwork yourself."

"I give you leave, but you mustn't presume _too_ much on the new rights."

"Ah! but I have old ones as well."

"You mustn't be tyrannical!" she still laughed gently as she withdrew her hands; "I must go and see Katherine."

"Yes, go and dress now, Hilda." Mrs. Archinard spoke from the sofa, having watched the scene with a slight air of injury; Hilda's unwonted gayety const.i.tuted a certain grievance. "Mr. Odd dines with us, and I really can't bear to see you in that costume. The skirt especially is really ludicrous, my dear. I am glad that I don't see you walking through the streets in it."

"Hilda knows that her feet bear showing," remarked the Captain, crossing his own with complacency; "she has her mother's foot in size and mine in make--the Archinard foot; narrow, arched instep, and small heel.

"Really, Charles, I think the Maxwells will bear the comparison!" Mrs.

Archinard, though she smiled, looked distinctly distressed.

Hilda found her sister before the long mirror in her room, Taylor fastening the nasturtium velvet. Katherine always had a commanding air, and it was quite regally apparent to-night; all things seemed made to serve her, and Taylor's crouching att.i.tude symbolic.

Hilda put her arms around her neck.

"My dear, dear Kathy, I am so glad! To think that good things _do_ come true!"

"You like my choice, pet?"

"_No_ one else would have done," cried Hilda; "he is the only man I ever saw whom I could have thought of for you. Why, Katherine, from that first day when you told me you had met him at the dinner, I _knew_ it would happen."

"Yes, I certainly felt a prophetic sense of proprietors.h.i.+p from the first," Katherine owned musingly. She looked over her sister's shoulder at the fine outline of her own head and neck in the gla.s.s.

"Aren't you rather splashed and muddy, pet? Poor people can't afford an affection that puts their velvet gowns in danger. There, I mustn't rumple my lace."

"I haven't hurt, have I?" Hilda stood back hastily. "I forgot, I _am_ rather muddy. And, Katherine, you will help one another so much; that makes it so ideal."

"Idealistic little Hilda!"

"But that is evident, isn't it? You with all your energy and cleverness and general _sanity_, and he so widely sympathetic that he is a bit impersonal. I mean that he doubts himself because he doubts everything rather; he sees how relative everything is; he probably thinks too much; I am sure that is dangerous. You will make him act."

"I am to be the concrete to his abstract. He certainly does lack energy.

I wonder if even I shall be able to prod him into initiative."

Katherine patted down the fine old lace that edged her bodice, and looked a smiling question from her own reflection in the mirror to her sister. "Suppose I fail to arouse him."

"You will understand him. He will have something to live for; that is what he needs. He won't be able to say, 'Is it worth while?' about _your_ happiness. As for initiative, you will probably have to have that for both. After all, he has made his name and place. He has the nicest kind of fame; the more apparent sort made up by the admiration of mediocrities isn't half as nice."

"Ah, pet, you are an intellectual aristocrat. My _pate_ is coa.r.s.er. I like the real thing; the donkey's brayings make a noise, and one must take the whole world with all its donkeys conscious of one, to be famous. I like noise." Katherine smiled as she spoke, and Hilda smiled, too, a little smile of humorous comprehension, for she did not take Katherine in this mood at all seriously. She was as stanch in her belief of Katherine's ideals as she was in sticking to her own.

"We will be married in March," said Katherine, pausing before her dressing-table to put on her rings--a fine antique engraved gem and a splendid opal. "You may go, Taylor; and Taylor, you may put out my opera-cloak after dinner. I think, Hilda, I will go to the opera; papa has a box. He and I and Peter might care about dropping in for the last two acts. You don't care to come, do you?"

"Well, mamma expects me to read to her; it's a charming book, too,"

added Hilda, with tactful delicacy.

"Well, I shall envy you your quiet evening. I can't ask Peter to spend his here in the bosom of my family. Yes, March, I think, unless I decide on making that round of visits in England; that would put it off for a month. I hope the ravens will fetch me a trousseau--for I don't know who else will."

"I shall have quite a lot by that time, Katherine. I haven't heard from the dealer in London yet, but those two pictures will sell, I hope. And, at all events, with the other things, you know, I shall have about a hundred pounds."

Katherine flushed a little when Hilda spoke of "other things," and looked round at her sister.