Rossmoyne Part 50

"Cobbett does Joseph Surface to perfection," breaks in Mr. Ryde, enthusiastically.

"Oh, I say now, Ryde! Come, you know, this is hardly fair," says the little captain, coyly, who is looking particularly pinched and dried to-day, in spite of the hot sun. There is a satisfied smirk upon his pale lips, and a poor attempt at self-depreciation about his whole manner.

"You know you took 'em by storm at Portsmouth, last year,--made 'em laugh like fun. You should see him," persists Ryde, addressing everybody generally.

"Perhaps you mean the part of Charles Surface," says Ronayne, in some surprise.

"No. Joseph: the sly one you know," says Ryde chuckling over some recollection.

"Well, it never occurred to me that Joseph's part might be termed a _funny_ one," says Mr. Kelly, mildly; "but that shows how ignorant all we Irish are. It will be very kind of you, Cobbett, to enlighten us,--to show us something _good_, in fact."

"Really, you know, you flatter me absurdly," says Cobbett, the self-depreciation fainter, the smirk broader.

Lord Rossmoyne, whose good temper is not his strong point, glances angrily at him, smothers an explosive speech, and walks away with a sneer.

"And Sir Peter,--who will kindly undertake Sir Peter?" asks Olga, with a smile that is faintly sarcastic. "Will you, Owen?" to Mr. Kelly.

"Don't ask me. I could not act with Cobbett and Miss Fitzgerald. I mean, I should only disgrace them," says Kelly, who is a member of a famous dramatic club in Dublin, and who has had two offers from London managers to tread the boards. "I feel I'm not up to it, indeed."

"I suspect you are not," says Hermia Herrick, with a sudden smile that lights up all her cold impa.s.sive face. Kelly, catching it, crawls lazily over to her, along the gra.s.s, Indian fas.h.i.+on, and finding a fold of her gown lays his arm on it, and his head on his arm, and relapses into silence.

"Ryde has done it," says Captain Cobbett.

"Indeed!" says Olga, raising questioning eyes to the big marine standing behind Monica's chair.

"Ye--es. We--er--do a good deal of that sort of thing in _our_ country,"

says Ryde, with conscious worth. "I have done Sir Peter once or twice; and people have been good enough not to--" with a little laugh--"_hiss_ me. I have a style of my own; but--er----" with an encouraging glance at the other men, "I daresay there are many here who could do it as I do it."

"Not _one_, I am convinced," says Desmond, promptly; and Monica laughs softly.

"We must think it over. I don't believe anything so important could be got up without deep deliberation----" Olga is beginning, when Kelly, by a movement of the hand, stops her.

"Do let it go on to its bitter end," he says, in a whisper, with most unusual animation for him. "Mrs. Herrick, help me."

"Why not, Olga?" says Hermia, in a low tone. "The princ.i.p.al characters are willing; we have not had a real laugh for some time: why throw away such a _perfect_ chance?"

"Oh! _that_----" says Olga.

Here a slight diversion is caused by the appearance of a footman, tea tray, a boy, a gypsy table, a maid, a good deal of fruit, maraschino, brandy, soda, _and_ Madam O'Connor. The latter, to tell the truth, has been having a siesta in the privacy of her own room, and has now come down, like a giant refreshed, to see how her guests are getting on.

"Well, I hope you're all happy," she says, jovially.

"We are mad with perplexity," says Olga.

"What's the matter, then, darling?" says Madam. "Hermia, like a good child, go and pour out the tea."

"I'll tell you all about it," says Brian, who is a special favorite of Madam O'Connor's, coming over to her and stopping behind her chair to whisper into her ear.

Whatever he says makes her laugh immoderately. It is easy to bring smiles to her lips at any time,--her heart having kept at a standstill whilst her body grew old,--but now she seems particularly fetched.

"Yes, yes, my dear Olga, let them have their own way," she says merrily.

"Very good. Let us consider it settled," says Mrs. Bohun. "But I _should_ like some tableaux afterwards, as a wind-up."

"Yes, certainly," says Ronayne. "What do you think, Madam?"

"I have set my mind on them," says his old hostess, gayly. "You are such a handsome boy, Ulic, that I'm bent on seeing you in fancy clothes; and so is somebody else, I daresay. Look at the children, how they steal towards us; were there ever such demure little mice? Come here, Georgie, my son, I have peaches and pretty things for you."

The kind old soul holds out her arms to two beautiful children, a boy and a girl, who are coming slowly, shyly towards her. They are so like Hermia Herrick as to be unmistakably hers. The boy, coming straight to Madame O'Connor, climbs up on her lap and lays his bonny cheek against hers; but the girl, running to her mother, who is busy over the tea-tray, nestles close to her.

"Gently, my soul," say Hermia, in a soft whisper. Though she still calmly pours out the tea, with Kelly beside her, she lets the unoccupied hand fall, to mingle with the golden tresses of the child. As her hand meets the little sunny head, a marvellous sweetness creeps into her face and transfixes it to a heavenly beauty. Kelly, watching her, marks the change.

Going round to the child, he would have taken her in his arms,--as is his habit with most children, being a special favorite in every nursery; but this little dame, drawing back from him, repels him coldly. Then, as though fearing herself ungracious, she slowly extends to him a tiny, friendly hand, which he accepts. The likeness between this grave baby and her graver mother is so remarkable as to be almost ludicrous.

"I think you haven't given Mr. Kelly even one kiss to-day," says her mother, smiling faintly, and pressing the child closer to her. "She is a cold little thing, is she not?"

"I suppose she inherits it," says Owen Kelly, without lifting his eyes from the child's fair face.

Mrs. Herrick colors slightly.

"Will you let me get you some tea, Fay?" says Mr. Kelly, addressing the child almost anxiously.

"No, thank you," says the fairy, sweetly but decidedly. "My mammy will give me half hers. I do not like any other tea."

"I am not in favor to-day," says Kelly, drawing back and shrugging his shoulders slightly, but looking distinctly disappointed. It may be the child sees this, because she comes impulsively forward, and, standing on tiptoe before him, holds her arms upwards towards his neck.

"I want to kiss you now," she says, solemnly, when he has taken her into his embrace. "But no one else. I only want to kiss _you_ sometimes--and _always_ mamma."

"I am content to be second where mamma is first. I am glad you place me with her in your mind. I should like to be always with mamma," says Kelly. He laughs a little, and kisses the child again, and places her gently upon the ground, and then he glances at Hermia. But her face is impa.s.sive as usual. No faintest tinge deepens the ordinary pallor of her cheeks. She has the sugar tongs poised in the air, and is apparently sunk in abstruse meditation.

"Now, I wonder who takes sugar and who doesn't," she says, wrinkling up her pretty brows in profound thought. "I have been here a month, yet cannot yet be sure. Mr. Kelly, you must call some one else to our a.s.sistance to take round the sugar, as you can't do everything."

"I can do _nothing_," says Kelly, in a low tone, after which he turns away and calls Brian Desmond to come to him.

CHAPTER XIX.

How Desmond a.s.serts himself, and shows himself a better man than his rival--And how a bunch of red roses causes a breach, and how a ring heals it.

"Then it is decided," says Olga. "'The School for Scandal' first, and tableaux to follow. Now for _them_. I suppose four altogether will be quite sufficient. We must not try the patience of our poor audience past endurance."

"It will be past that long before our tableaux begin," says Ulic Ronayne, in a low tone. He is dressed in a tennis suit of white flannel, and is looking particularly handsome.

Olga makes a pretty little _moue_, but no audible response.