A Colony of Girls Part 21

"You must, indeed, be in the depths to call that good news," she said scornfully.

"I didn't say good news. I said news," Nathalie retorted triumphantly, "and in any case I think Mrs. Archer is a G.o.dsend after the monotony of the last few days."

Miss Stuart smiled faintly for Nathalie, but echoed her sentiments.

"I think Cliff's mother is a charming woman," interposed Helen. "She is somewhat overbearing and imposing, but I know she does not mean to be disagreeable."

"I like her," maintained Nathalie. "She is so worldly, so thoroughly magnificent."

Jean laughed and meekly took her cup of tea from Helen.

"I have not another word to say. I suppose the truth is that I am mortally afraid of Mrs. Archer. She completely subdues me."

After a moment she spoke again, from the comfortable place she had taken on the divan:

"Do you know, Nathalie, just for one moment I thought it might have been Guy of whom you were speaking."

Helen set the teapot down suddenly, and there was a moment's uncomfortable silence. Miss Stuart let her glance travel slowly from Helen's flushed face to Jean's grave one.

"Are you speaking of Mr. Appleton?" she asked lazily.

"Yes," replied Jean, with perfect unconsciousness, "I suppose you met him at the same time you did Helen. I wish it had been he instead of Mrs. Archer."

Miss Stuart shrugged her shoulders, and answered with insolent disregard of Jean's evident affection for Guy:

"A nice enough man in his way, but so deadly uninteresting, so lacking in that knowledge of the world which alone makes a man worth talking to."

Jean's eyes flashed, and her voice trembled with anger.

"Mr. Appleton is a very dear friend of ours, Miss Stuart, and to none of us is it agreeable to hear him spoken ill of."

She looked impulsively across at Helen, feeling sure that her sister would speak some word of vindication of Guy, but the girl's head was bent and she seemed wholly occupied in pus.h.i.+ng the tea-cups aimlessly about on the polished surface of the mahogany tea-table. For the first time in her life Jean felt a contempt for her sister, and pressed her lips tightly together to keep down the bitter words that rose to them.

Nathalie, who hated a scene above all things, and yet was too thoroughly in sympathy with Jean to feel equal to changing the conversation, sat down at the piano and began to drum.

Miss Stuart looked from one to the other and laughed unpleasantly.

"Mr. Appleton should be proud of such an ardent champion."

Jean made no answer. She finished her tea in silence and then left the room, followed by a sneering glance from Miss Stuart's eyes.

That evening Mrs. Andrews and her sister, Mrs. Archer, called at the manor. The young people had taken advantage of the first clear evening since Miss Stuart's arrival and had gone for a walk, so Mrs. Dennis asked her guests up to her room. During the conversation Mrs. Andrews said:

"How badly Helen is looking lately."

Aunt Helen agreed with her and related to Mrs. Archer the facts of Gladys' accident, and dilated upon Helen's untiring devotion to her little sister.

"She is worn out," she sighed in conclusion, "and it is so hard for her to have Miss Stuart here just at present."

"You don't mean Lillian Stuart, that beautiful girl about whom everyone is raving?" exclaimed Mrs. Archer, roused to a degree of interest she rarely felt when in Hetherford.

"I suppose it is the same. She is certainly very beautiful, but somehow," and Aunt Helen's face grew puzzled, "she doesn't seem at all the kind of girl my Helen should care for. However, they are close friends, so I----"

"Oh, she is a great belle," Mrs. Archer interrupted brusquely. "Poor girl! What in the world does she do with herself in this out-of-the-way place?"

Mrs. Andrews replied with some heat:

"She must be very hard to please if she cannot find anything to amuse or interest her here."

A gleam of amus.e.m.e.nt flashed into Aunt Helen's eyes, but was instantly suppressed. Hetherford was the basis of an old feud between the sisters, and had been the cause of more than one bitter quarrel. Mrs.

Archer was a fas.h.i.+onable woman to the tips of her fingers, and for years she had striven to impress her easy-going sister with the importance of society, and to persuade her at least to spend her summers in some resort more frequented by the world of society. Mrs.

Andrews, however, stood out against her and stoutly maintained that she and her children were perfectly happy where they were, and Mrs.

Archer had to content herself with an occasional visit from her niece Mollie, who was eminently unsatisfactory as a fas.h.i.+onable girl. To crown her displeasure, her only son Clifford, instead of finding pleasure in his charming home at Newport, insisted upon spending the summer at Hetherford Inn, and Mrs. Archer bore a great grudge against this small place. She was a very hospitable woman, and enjoyed keeping open house, but she found it a great drawback to have no young person at home.

As she rose to leave, it suddenly occurred to her that it would be very delightful to take two of the girls back to Newport with her. Her choice fell upon Helen, because in that way she could include Miss Stuart in the invitation. Mrs. Dennis met the suggestion with approval, for she knew it would do Helen good to get away from home for a few days, and that so pleasant a change would please Miss Stuart. In the midst of the discussion, the two girls walked into the room.

Mrs. Archer's shrewd, worldly eyes took in every detail of Miss Stuart's beautiful face and faultless gown, and she instantly dropped the somewhat patronizing tone she had used toward Helen, and urged their acceptance with great cordiality. Helen hesitated, for she was loath to leave Gladys again, but Aunt Helen and Miss Stuart overruled all her objections, and it was agreed that they should accompany Mrs.

Archer.

The quiet that settled down over the manor after their departure was very grateful to Jean, who during the past week had been disturbed and hara.s.sed. She knew that she was fast approaching the most serious crisis of her life. All during these joyous summer days she had drifted on so happily, evading self-questionings, living only for the day. Now she realized that the drifting was at an end. On his return Valentine Farr would speak to her, and although she had no doubt as to the answer she would give him, yet she trembled a little and would fain have been alone with her secret. And now, when she would have had her whole mind dominated by this one thought, Miss Stuart's unwelcome presence in the house thrust other and less pleasant thoughts upon her. Up to the time of this last visit Jean's dislike of Miss Stuart had been a vague, pa.s.sing sentiment, which had concerned her but little. She had distrusted her always, but even that distrust was purely intuitive, for she had no idea of the part Miss Stuart had played in the severing of Helen's engagement. In that slight controversy about Guy, however, Jean had unwittingly pierced beneath the surface of Miss Stuart's suave manner, and had caught a glimpse of the girl's true nature. She could not understand why this should affect her so strongly. In vain she tried to account for it to herself. Miss Stuart, although so dear a friend of Helen's, occupied a comparatively unimportant position in their home life. In another fortnight she would be gone from among them, and for months they would know nothing of her, save what Helen might choose to communicate from her oft received letters. So Jean argued with herself, battling with a curious sense of apprehension that struggled within her. She longed to talk it all over with Aunt Helen, whose judgment was always to be trusted; but that seemed a kind of disloyalty to Helen, so she smothered the vague doubts and fears which threatened to overwhelm her usual good sense. Her thoughts flew off to Farr, and poised over that strange talk they had had on that last afternoon. She drew from her pocket a letter that had come from him, and read it over slowly, lingering over every sentence. But when she had finished and was folding it into its envelope again, she sighed a little, for even that dear missive could not quite dispel the vision which haunted her of Lillian Stuart's beautiful, cruel face.

CHAPTER XII.

EDDYING CURRENTS.

Monday dawned bright and clear. When Jean awoke the sunlight was flooding the room, and through the open window came the sweet voices of the birds as they merrily chirped and sang. As she sprang out of bed she was filled with a sense of well-being and happiness. She could even find it in her heart to laugh a little scornfully at the fancies that had disturbed her, for they had vanished with the vanis.h.i.+ng clouds. She dressed hurriedly and ran down to the dining room with a s.n.a.t.c.h of song upon her lips. By her plate on the breakfast table lay an envelope addressed in a man's legible handwriting. She flushed as she caught it up, and crossed to the window to read it. Farr had written in great haste to say that the _Vortex_ would be in Hetherford Harbor by noon on Monday. When Jean had reached that point in his note she read no further. She stood very still, her hands holding the bit of paper closely, her breath coming hurriedly through her slightly parted lips. For one moment thus--then the maid entered bearing the coffee urn, Larry clattered noisily into the room, and Jean turned back to the ordinary duties of everyday life. But her face was still illumined, and in the depths of her s.h.i.+ning eyes lingered the reflection of her soul's great happiness.

During the morning a telegram came from Helen saying that she and Miss Stuart would arrive by the afternoon express. Jean had just terminated a long interview with the cook, and was frowning portentously over her unusual duties as housekeeper, when Nathalie brought her the news. She made a grimace and then proceeded to inform Nathalie of the approaching arrival of the _Vortex_, subduing as best she could the tremor of excitement in her voice. Nathalie was jubilant. At last the dull days were at an end, and they would start on a new round of festivities. While she was chattering volubly it suddenly occurred to Jean that it would be a pleasant welcome to Helen and Miss Stuart to ask Mr. Dudley and Farr to dinner. She made the suggestion timidly, for she feared that Nathalie would divine the true motive which prompted her. Her mind was instantly set at rest, for Nathalie, overjoyed at the break in the monotony, gave her a friendly push toward the desk to hasten the writing of the notes. Jean laughingly reminded her that the _Vortex_ had not yet arrived, and then they put their two heads together to concoct a dinner which should quite equal one of Helen's ordering.

That afternoon, as they were about starting for the station, Barnes brought back the answer from the _Vortex_. Farr's was of so grateful and rejoicing a nature that Jean laughed light-heartedly as she read it. It came to her suddenly, as they were bowling along the highroad, that in her note to him she had not mentioned the fact that Miss Stuart was with them, nor had she done so in the one letter she had written him during his absence.

"It was just an oversight," she said to herself. "A mere chance."

A mere chance, and yet chance sometimes means fate.

Helen met them with so many questions about Gladys, the boys, and Aunt Helen, that Jean had no opportunity to unfold her plan for dinner until Miss Stuart had gone to her room, and she had followed her sister into the nursery. Helen was tired and travel-worn, but she was delighted by Jean's thoughtfulness for Lillian's pleasure, and listened interestedly while her sister anxiously submitted the menu for her approval.

"Everything is perfect, dear," she said, putting Gladys down from her lap and making her way out into the hall, "but before I go to dress I must tell Lillian that we are to have guests to dinner," and she turned away without noting the shadow that crossed Jean's face at the mention of Miss Stuart's name.

Miss Stuart stood before her dressing-table arranging the silver toilet articles which she had just taken from her trunk. She had thoroughly enjoyed her stay at Newport, and was feeling in a good humor with all the world. She turned a bright glance of inquiry as the door opened to admit Helen, and betrayed a ready interest in her friend's announcement.

"Who are the men?"

"Two officers from the Coast Survey schooner that is anch.o.r.ed here, Mr. Dudley and Mr. Farr; Valentine Farr."

The little vinaigrette Miss Stuart held in her hand dropped on the dressing-table. Her face contracted sharply, and she made a quick instinctive movement away from the light.