Pixie O'Shaughnessy Part 17

"I believe you are right. I certainly did make that remark," said the stranger obligingly. For some reason or other his colour had decidedly heightened during the last few moments, and he looked at Esmeralda with a quick, embarra.s.sed glance, as if afraid to meet her eyes. She was flushed like himself, a beautiful young fury, with eyes ablaze, and lips set in a hard, straight line. Propitiation was plainly hopeless at the moment, and he was not so foolish as to attempt the impossible. This was evidently "Beauty O'Shaughnessy," of whom he had heard so much, and, to judge by his own experience, his friends' accounts of the eccentricities of the family were no whit exaggerated. The dear little girl with the sweet eyes was plainly the eldest sister, since she took upon herself to perform the honours of the house, and he was thankful to follow her towards the fireplace, leaving the belligerents at the end of the hall.

"I'm exceedingly sorry to have caused such an alarm! Please make my peace with your sister. I am afraid, if she was not prepared to see me, my actions must have seemed sadly suspicious," he began apologetically; but Bridgie stopped him with uplifted hand, and a queenliness of manner which sat charmingly upon her slight figure.

"Indeed you were not to blame at all, and there is no need to give it another thought. You have had bad weather for your visit, but I hope there is a change to-night. The Major will be delighted that you took him at his word, and Dandy will carry you like a feather. Here he is at last, to welcome you himself."

The Major came forward as she spoke, calling out welcomes from afar, and holding out his hand in hospitable Irish greeting. He was all smiles and superlatives, charmed that Mr Hilliard had called, overjoyed to give him a mount, delighted that he had already made the acquaintance of "me children," beamingly unconscious that there was trouble in the air, and persistent in summoning Esmeralda to his side.

"What do you think of that for an impromptu costume? All made out of a couple of sheets, me dear fellow, and at a moment's notice. Quite a display we had this night, with the whole lot of them got up to match; but this child is the only one that kept it on. Me daughter Joan!

Esmeralda, for short. Mr Geoffrey Hilliard!"

Hilliard bowed deeply. Esmeralda drooped her eyelids, and the Major chuckled afresh at "the spirit of the girl!"

"A shame to waste such sweetness on the desert air, isn't it, Hilliard?

That's what she says herself, and there's nothing for it but to give my consent to a party on New Year's Eve. A man's not master of himself when he has three daughters, but you must give us the pleasure of welcoming you with the rest of our guests. The Trelawneys will be here to a man, and you must come over with them. Esmeralda says she is fatigued with meeting the same people over and over again, so she'll be delighted to see you. Won't you now, Esmeralda? Give your own invitation to Mr Hilliard."

"Indeed, father, we have scarcely got the length of invitations. It was just an idea we were thinking over, and at the best it will be a poor country affair. If Mr Hilliard is accustomed to London, 'twould be but a bore to him to join us."

It was evident that Esmeralda was by no means anxious to count the stranger among her guests. Having shown herself to him in a ridiculous and unbecoming light, she had no wish to pursue the acquaintance, and the glance which accompanied the words was even more eloquent than themselves.

"Don't dare to come here again!" said the haughty eyes. "Don't imagine you will get the laugh over me," said the haughty head, and Geoffrey Hilliard read the signals, and smiled unperturbed--a happy, self- confident smile.

"I a.s.sure Miss O'Shaughnessy that I should be honoured by an invitation," he said blandly, "if I may accept in advance. Nothing will give me greater pleasure than to join your gathering."

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

BRIDGIE'S CONFESSION.

After Mr Hilliard's departure, Mademoiselle was treated to an exhibition of what was known in the family as "Esmeralda's tantrums."

Hardly had her father turned from the door than she had rushed towards him, and begun pouring out the story of her wrongs. Eyes flashed, head tossed, arms waving about in emphatic declamation, little foot tapped the floor all a-quiver with excitement, while Pixie stood in the background faithfully imitating each gesture, and Pat gazed at the ceiling with an expression of heart-broken innocence. Esmeralda called upon all present to witness that she was despised and ridiculed by the members of her own family; that by this evening's work she had been made the laughing-stock of the county; and announced her intention of leaving home by the first train that steamed out of the station. She would earn her own living, and if necessary, wander barefoot through the world, rather than submit any longer to insults from her own kith and kin, and when she died a beggar's death, and lay stretched in a pauper's grave, they might remember her words, and forgive themselves if they could!

The invective was originally directed against Pat alone, but as she warmed to her work it grew ever more comprehensive, until at last it seemed as though the whole household were in conspiracy against her.

Then suddenly the climax was touched and pa.s.sed; the last stage of all was announced by a tempest of tears, and the Major tugged miserably at his moustache, nerving himself to the task most difficult in the world to his easy-going nature,--that of finding fault!

"Pat, ye rascal, what's this I hear about you? Mark my words, now.

I'll not have your sisters made the subject for practical jokes! If you can't keep yourself out of mischief, I'll find a way to occupy you with something you'd like worse. Can I have no peace in me own home for the complaints of you and your doings? If ye can't carry yourself as a gentleman, I'll apprentice ye to a trade, and wash me hands of you once for all. Mind what I'm telling ye, for there's truth in it! Will I be giving him a punishment now, Esmeralda? Is it your wish I should punish him?"

"It is so! And the harder the better!" sobbed Esmeralda; and the Major heaved a sigh of ponderous dimensions.

"Ye hear that, Patrick? Listen to that, now, and see your sister in tears, and think shame to yourself on a good Christmas Eve. And now I've the trouble of punis.h.i.+ng you into the bargain. What will I do with him, Esmeralda? Will I send him off to his bed before Jack comes home?"

And then a pretty thing happened, for among the chorus of groans which greeted this suggestion, Esmeralda's "No, no!" sounded shrillest of all, and off she rushed to Pat's side in a whirlwind of repentance.

"No, no! Not that! He would be so disappointed. He must see Jack. I won't have him punished after all, father. It's Christmas-time, and he's sorry already. Tell the Major you are sorry, Pat, and I'll shake hands and say no more."

"I'm sorry, sir, there's been such a stupid row," said Pat truthfully enough; but when his father turned away with a sigh of relief, he put his arm round his sister and gave her a bear-like hug.

"What did you howl about, silly?" he asked affectionately. "When you've had time to cool down you will think it the finest joke of the year.

And you so well plucked, too, holding on like grim death, for all his struggles. You ought to be proud instead of sorry. Look here, now, you shall have the racket after all! I won't have you the loser for your dealings with me. I'll give it to you at once, if you'll be troubled to come to my room!"

Then Esmeralda cried, "Oh, Pat, me darlin'!" and Pat hung on to her arms, crying, "Hold me tight! Hold me tight!" at which she blushed and tugged his curly locks, and off they went together, laughing, squabbling, protesting; sworn enemies, dearest of friends!

Jack arrived in due course, and a happier Christmas party than that a.s.sembled round the breakfast-table at Knock Castle next morning it would have been hard to find. Each one had provided presents for the others, and if they were of infinitesimal value, they were apparently none the less valued by the recipients. Mademoiselle thought she had never seen anything more charming, than the manner in which Pixie presented, and the Major received, a solitary bone stud for his collar, amidst the acclamations of an admiring family.

"A happy Christmas to ye, father darlin', and many happy returns!" said Pixie in deep sweet accents, as she pressed the tiny packet into his hand, and blinked at it with an air of elaborate indifference. "It's just a little present I was buying you, thinking maybe you would like to wear something I'd chosen meself."

"And now what can this be next?" soliloquised the Major, untwisting the paper with tenderest fingers and an air of absorption seldom seen on his merry features. When wrapping number two was undone, and the stud was disclosed in all its glory, he appeared almost dizzy with rapture, holding it out on an outstretched palm, and gazing at it with incredulous joy. "Did ever anything fall out so lucky as that? The very thing I was breaking my heart over not an hour ago. Somebody eats my studs--I'm sure they do--and what are left Esmeralda steals for her cuffs. But I'll be even with anybody who dares to take this one from my drawer. Thank you, my piccaninny. It's a broth of a stud, and you could not have given me anything I liked better."

"I hope it may never break on you when you are in a hurry," said Pixie politely, and with sundry memories of past occasions when the Major had dressed for a function, while the sounds of his groans and lamentations had been heard without the portals of his dressing-room.

Esmeralda presented Bridgie with a card of hat-pins; Bridgie had knitted woollen gloves for the boys, and the most exciting presentations were those which Mademoiselle had thoughtfully brought with her--dainty lace ties for the sisters, which were received with a rapture almost too great for words, and the grey Suede gloves which were Jack's happy inspiration. Dark and threatening as the day appeared, on went gloves and tie, when it was time to start for church, and Esmeralda at least was proudly conscious of her stylish appearance, when half-way along the muddy lane the Trelawneys' carriage bowled past, and the laughing eyes of the stranger met hers once more. The mud flew from the carriage- wheels, and she held up her skirts with a great display of grey-gloved hands, and backed up against the hedge, frowning and petulant--my Lady Disdain in every gesture and expression.

Mademoiselle had never before attended a Christmas service in an English church, and though it was impossible to resist some pangs of homesickness, she was still interested and impressed. The little building was tastefully decorated, and the beautiful hymns were sung with delightful heartiness and feeling. The O'Shaughnessys themselves would have const.i.tuted a creditable choir, for Pat's still unbroken voice was a joy to hear as he joined in the air with Bridgie and Pixie, the Major rolled out a sonorous ba.s.s, Jack sang tenor, while Esmeralda's alto was rich and full as an organ stop. They sang with heart as well as voice, as indeed who can help singing those wonderful words? First, the heralds' call to Christendom to greet the great festival of the year, the birthday of its Lord: "Christians, awake! Salute the happy morn."--It must be a cold heart indeed which does not thrill a response to that summons; then the description of the angelic joy at His coming, "Hark, the herald angels sing"; and last, and perhaps most beautiful of all, the summons to the saints on earth to join in that praise, "Oh, come, let us adore Him, Christ the Lord!"

The service pa.s.sed in a glow of exaltation, and the softening influence continued throughout the long walk home, when the younger members of the family walked on ahead, and the two older girls followed sedately in the rear. Bridgie's eyes glowed as she looked after her "children", Pat and Miles, tall and graceful even in this their hobbledehoy stage, Esmeralda queening it in their midst, and Pixie dancing blissfully through every puddle that came in her way.

"Doesn't it make you rejoice to see them all so well and happy?" she cried fervently. "Last Christmas we were so sad that it seemed as if the sun would never s.h.i.+ne again; but mother said she wanted us to be happy, and it would do her heart good to see them to-day. I was thinking about her in church, and asked myself if I had done all I could to keep my charge. She left them in my care, you know, for I had to take her place, and on days like this I feel as if I had to answer to her for all that is wrong. Pixie is happy at school, and it's lovely to know you, and feel that you will be good to the darling; Jack is getting on with his work, and the boys and Esmeralda quarrel less than they used to do. She's the one I am most anxious about, for she is not satisfied with this quiet life, and her head will be turned with flattery before many years are over. Did you notice that young Englishman last night, and the way he fixed his eyes upon her? If he comes over here flirting with her, what will I do, Therese? He is here for a week or two only, and after he has gone she will feel duller than ever, poor creature. I wonder what I had better do?"

"Mees Esmeralda seems to me exceedingly able to take care of herself,"

remarked Mademoiselle quietly. "I don't think you need distress yourself about her in this instance. Monsieur 'Illiard has had the misfortune to make a bad impression, by placing her in an uncomfortable position, and have you not observed the air with which she has bowed to him to-day as he pa.s.sed? It was not, to say the least of it, encouraging."

Bridgie laughed,--a little, tender, indulgent laugh.

"But it was very pretty all the same, and sort of encouraging discouraging, don't you think? If I were in his place I don't think I should be exactly depressed. It was like a challenge thrown down before him, and from his look I believe he means to accept it too! Ah dear, it's a great responsibility to have a beauty for a sister! I am in terror every time a young man comes to the house, in case he should fall in love with her."

"There is more than one girl in the house, however, and I know vich of the two would be my choice, if I were, as you say, a young man myself,"

returned Mademoiselle st.u.r.dily. Bridgie's utter unconsciousness of her own claims to attention filled her at once with admiration and impatience, and she could not resist putting her feelings into words.

"Does it never give you any fear in case one should fall in love with you instead?"

"No, never; how could they when she was near?" cried Bridgie fervently, and then suddenly flushed all over her delicate face and began a stammering explanation. "At least, that's not quite true. There was one man--I never told anyone about it before, and indeed there's not much to tell. Joan and I went to stay ten days with some friends at the other side of the county, nearly a year ago last autumn, and he was staying there too. He was not like other men I had met, or I thought he was different. He was graver than most young men, though he liked fun all the same, and when we talked it seemed as if we shared the same thoughts. It was not long after mother's death, and I was feeling very lonely, but I didn't feel lonely when I was with him. On the third day we went a picnic, and I drove in a wagonette with the ladies, and he walked with the men. Just as we overtook them the horses took fright, and began to gallop down a hill. We thought for a few minutes that we should certainly be thrown out at the bottom, but the driver managed to pull up in time, and we were none the worse except for the fright. The men came racing along to see what had happened, and his face was as white as death. When he came up he looked straight at me, and at no one else, though his sister was there and several old friends, and he said, '_Thank G.o.d_!' Only that, but his voice shook as he said it, and he turned away, as if he could not bear any more. And I felt so strange and glad, so happy and proud; all that day I felt as if I were walking on air, but when I went to bed at night I could not sleep, for I realised suddenly what it meant. He was growing fond of me, and I of him; if we were together another week, perhaps he would ask me to marry him and go away to the other end of the world, for he was a soldier--did I tell you that? And I had promised mother to look after the children until they were old enough to manage for themselves. I couldn't break my word, and yet if I stayed on and was nice to him, he might think it was wrong of me to say No. And I was afraid I couldn't help being nice."

The sweet voice broke off suddenly, and Mademoiselle looked into the grey eyes, and thought that the young soldier was to be congratulated both on his own good taste, and on the feelings which he had been fortunate enough to awaken in this best and sweetest of girls.

"_Eh bien_, and what have you done then?" she inquired eagerly. "It was a difficult position. What have you done?"

"Oh, I did nothing. I came away!" said Bridgie, as simply as if that were not just the most difficult thing she could have done under the circ.u.mstances. "The next morning he went out shooting, and the post came in at ten o'clock with a letter from father saying that Pat had fallen from the barn and twisted his ankle. It was very few weeks he did not fall from the barn, as a matter of fact, but it was an excuse, so I said I must go home and nurse him, and they drove me to the station that very afternoon before the men came home."

Mademoiselle drew in her breath, in a gasp of amazement. She looked at Bridgie, and her eyes flashed with eloquent comment. It was so wonderful to think of the courage with which this young thing, with the bright, pleasure-loving nature which had come to her as an inheritance, had yet had the courage to deliberately put from her the greatest happiness which she could have known, in order to devote herself to the care of others. The simple, unpretentious manner in which the tale was told, made so light of the incident that it might have involved little or no suffering; but Mademoiselle knew better, and her voice trembled with sympathy as she put the low-toned question--

"And afterwards--did it hurt--did it hurt very much, _cherie_?"

"I think it did. I cried a great deal for several nights when I thought of the good times they were all having together; but I knew it would have been worse later on, and I comforted myself with that. Besides, what is the use of giving up a thing at all if one can't do it cheerfully? It would have been better for me to have married and left home, than to stay, and make them all miserable by moping and looking sad. And they are all such darlings, and so loving and kind. I don't think any other girl ever had such a family as mine!"

"The Major ignores you; the boys worry you to death; my lady Joan orders you about as if she were a queen, and you her servant; only the little Pixie wors.h.i.+ps you as you deserve to be wors.h.i.+pped," reflected Mademoiselle mentally; but she kept her reflections to herself, and asked another question, the answer to which she was longing to hear with truly feminine curiosity. "And was that all,--the end of everything?

What happened next? Have you not heard or seen him since that time?"

The red flew over Bridgie's face, and she smiled--a soft, contented smile.