The Rosary [18]
I should like you to see Castle Gleneesh. You would enjoy the view from the terrace, sheer into the gorge, and away across the purple hills. And I think you would like the pine woods and the moor. I say, Miss Champion, why should not _I_ get up a 'best party' in September, and implore the duchess to come and chaperon it? And then you could come, and any one else you would like asked. And--and, perhaps--we might ask--the beautiful 'Stars and Stripes,' and her aunt, Mrs. Parker Bangs of Chicago; and then we should see what Margery thought of her!"
"Delightful!" said Jane. "I would come with pleasure. And really, Dal, I think that girl has a sweet nature. Could you do better? The exterior is perfect, and surely the soul is there. Yes, ask us all, and see what happens."
"I will," cried Garth, delighted. "And what will Margery think of Mrs. Parker Bangs?"
"Never mind," said Jane decidedly. "When you marry the niece, the aunt goes back to Chicago."
"And I wish her people were not millionaires."
"That can't be helped," said Jane. "Americans are so charming, that we really must not mind their money."
"I wish Miss Lister and her aunt were here," remarked Garth. "But they are to be at Lady Ingleby's, where I am due next Tuesday. Do you come on there, Miss Champion?"
"I do," replied Jane. "I go to the Brands for a few days on Tuesday, but I have promised Myra to turn up at Shenstone for the week-end. I like staying there. They are such a harmonious couple."
"Yes," said Garth, "but no one could help being a harmonious couple, who had married Lady Ingleby."
"What grammar!" laughed Jane. "But I know what you mean, and I am glad you think so highly of Myra. She is a dear! Only do make haste and paint her and get her off your mind, so as to be free for Pauline Lister."
The sun-dial pointed to seven o'clock. The rooks had circled round the elms and dropped contentedly into their nests.
"Let us go in," said Jane, rising. "I am glad we have had this talk," she added, as he walked beside her across the lawn.
"Yes," said Garth. "Air-balls weren't in it! It was a football this time--good solid leather. And we each kicked one goal,--a tie, you know. For your advice went home to me, and I think my reply showed you the true lie of things; eh, Miss Champion?"
He was feeling seven again; but Jane saw him now through old Margery's glasses, and it did not annoy her.
"Yes," she said, smiling at him with her kind, true eyes; "we will consider it a tie, and surely it will prove a tie to our friendship. Thank you, Dal, for all you have told me."
Arrived in her room, Jane found she had half an hour to spare before dressing. She took out her diary. Her conversation with Garth Dalmain seemed worth recording, particularly his story of the preacher whose beauty of soul redeemed the ugliness of his body. She wrote it down verbatim.
Then she rang for her maid, and dressed for dinner, and the concert which should follow.
CHAPTER VI
THE VEIL IS LIFTED
"MISS CHAMPION! Oh, here you are! Your turn next, please. The last item of the local programme is in course of performance, after which the duchess explains Velma's laryngitis--let us hope she will not call it 'appendicitis'--and then I usher you up. Are you ready?"
Garth Dalmain, as master of ceremonies, had sought Jane Champion on the terrace, and stood before her in the soft light of the hanging Chinese lanterns. The crimson rambler in his button-hole, and his red silk socks, which matched it, lent an artistic touch of colour to the conventional black and white of his evening clothes.
Jane looked up from the comfortable depths of her wicker chair; then smiled at his anxious face.
"I am ready," she said, and rising, walked beside him. "Has it gone well?" she asked. "Is it a good audience?"
"Packed," replied Garth, "and the duchess has enjoyed herself. It has been funnier than usual. But now comes the event of the evening. I say, where is your score?"
"Thanks," said Jane. "I shall play it from memory. It obviates the bother of turning
"Delightful!" said Jane. "I would come with pleasure. And really, Dal, I think that girl has a sweet nature. Could you do better? The exterior is perfect, and surely the soul is there. Yes, ask us all, and see what happens."
"I will," cried Garth, delighted. "And what will Margery think of Mrs. Parker Bangs?"
"Never mind," said Jane decidedly. "When you marry the niece, the aunt goes back to Chicago."
"And I wish her people were not millionaires."
"That can't be helped," said Jane. "Americans are so charming, that we really must not mind their money."
"I wish Miss Lister and her aunt were here," remarked Garth. "But they are to be at Lady Ingleby's, where I am due next Tuesday. Do you come on there, Miss Champion?"
"I do," replied Jane. "I go to the Brands for a few days on Tuesday, but I have promised Myra to turn up at Shenstone for the week-end. I like staying there. They are such a harmonious couple."
"Yes," said Garth, "but no one could help being a harmonious couple, who had married Lady Ingleby."
"What grammar!" laughed Jane. "But I know what you mean, and I am glad you think so highly of Myra. She is a dear! Only do make haste and paint her and get her off your mind, so as to be free for Pauline Lister."
The sun-dial pointed to seven o'clock. The rooks had circled round the elms and dropped contentedly into their nests.
"Let us go in," said Jane, rising. "I am glad we have had this talk," she added, as he walked beside her across the lawn.
"Yes," said Garth. "Air-balls weren't in it! It was a football this time--good solid leather. And we each kicked one goal,--a tie, you know. For your advice went home to me, and I think my reply showed you the true lie of things; eh, Miss Champion?"
He was feeling seven again; but Jane saw him now through old Margery's glasses, and it did not annoy her.
"Yes," she said, smiling at him with her kind, true eyes; "we will consider it a tie, and surely it will prove a tie to our friendship. Thank you, Dal, for all you have told me."
Arrived in her room, Jane found she had half an hour to spare before dressing. She took out her diary. Her conversation with Garth Dalmain seemed worth recording, particularly his story of the preacher whose beauty of soul redeemed the ugliness of his body. She wrote it down verbatim.
Then she rang for her maid, and dressed for dinner, and the concert which should follow.
CHAPTER VI
THE VEIL IS LIFTED
"MISS CHAMPION! Oh, here you are! Your turn next, please. The last item of the local programme is in course of performance, after which the duchess explains Velma's laryngitis--let us hope she will not call it 'appendicitis'--and then I usher you up. Are you ready?"
Garth Dalmain, as master of ceremonies, had sought Jane Champion on the terrace, and stood before her in the soft light of the hanging Chinese lanterns. The crimson rambler in his button-hole, and his red silk socks, which matched it, lent an artistic touch of colour to the conventional black and white of his evening clothes.
Jane looked up from the comfortable depths of her wicker chair; then smiled at his anxious face.
"I am ready," she said, and rising, walked beside him. "Has it gone well?" she asked. "Is it a good audience?"
"Packed," replied Garth, "and the duchess has enjoyed herself. It has been funnier than usual. But now comes the event of the evening. I say, where is your score?"
"Thanks," said Jane. "I shall play it from memory. It obviates the bother of turning