Thereby Hangs a Tale. Volume One

Vanleigh said something very naughty, sotto voce, and then, as he felt bound to flatter Aunt Matty, he seated himself, and nursed the wretched little dog, while Aunt Matty made her way to Sir Hampton, who was deep in a political speech, to which Sir Felix kept saying “Ya-as” and “Ver’ true,” eyeing Fin the while through his glass.

Fin’s sharp eyes detected something wrong, and she tried a flank movement.

“Go and tell my sister I want her directly, Mr Pratt,” she said – “in the conservatory.”

It was too late; Aunt Matty’s forced march had done it.

“Eh! what? Er-rum!” ejaculated Sir Hampton.

Then he followed his sister out into the conservatory, where she made the before-mentioned remark, and Sir Hampton, turning port wine colour, caught his daughter by the wrist.

“Go to bed this instant!” he exclaimed, reverting in his rage to the punishment inflicted years before. “As to you, sir – ”

“Excuse me, Sir Hampton,” said Trevor, boldly.

“Let me speak,” said Aunt Matty, with great dignity. “Hampton, this is neither the time nor the place to have words about the works of the wicked. I warned you, but you would not take heed. Valentina, you are not to go to bed, but to return to the drawing-room as if nothing had happened. Hampton, you must not disturb your other guests – the strangers sojourning in peace within your gates.”

At a time like this Aunt Matty was too much for Sir Hampton. She had girded herself as she would have termed it; and when Aunt Matty girded herself her words were like a strong solution of tracts, and she became a sort of moral watering-pot, with which she sprinkled the wicked and quenched their anger. Sir Hampton never so much as said “Er-rum!” at such times, and now seeing the wisdom of her words, he picked two or three flowers, and walked back into the drawing-room with Tiny, the poor girl trying hard to conceal her agitation.

Trevor was about to follow, but Aunt Matty stopped him.

“Sit down there, young man,” she said, severely.

“If you wish to speak to me, certainly,” said Trevor, politely; “but what I have to say must be to Sir Hampton, with all respect to you.”

“Sit down there for five minutes, young man, and then you can return.”

Trevor fumed – the position was so ridiculous; but he accepted it, glancing the while at his watch, and then fighting hard to preserve his gravity before the stiff figure in whose presence he sat. For, in spite of the annoyance, a feeling of joyous hilarity had come upon the offender against decorum: he knew that Tiny loved him, and doubtless a few words of explanation would be listened to when Sir Hampton was cool, and then all would come right.

“I think the five minutes are up, Miss Rea,” said Trevor, rising. “Perhaps you will take my arm, and we can stroll back as if nothing had happened. I will see Sir Hampton in the morning.”

Aunt Matty bowed, and then, wearing the aspect of some jointless phenomenon, she stalked by his side back into the drawing-room, where, in spite of the efforts of Lady Rea and Vanleigh, nothing could disperse the gloom that had fallen; and the party broke up with the departure of the gentlemen, who walked home on account of the beauty of the night – Vanleigh talking incessantly, and Trevor quiet, but striving hard to conceal his triumph.

“I’ll ease him as much as possible,” Trevor had said to himself, àpropos of Vanleigh.

“Poor brute! he little thinks how he’s shelved,” said Vanleigh to Landells.

“Little girl’s pos’tively b’witching,” said Landells.

“Who, Miss Rea?”

“Jove! No – sister. Sharp and bright as lit’ needle.”

“Just suit you, there, Flick.”

“Ya-as.”

“It came to a climax, then, Dick, eh?” said Pratt.

“Franky, old boy, I’m the happiest dog under the sun.”

These fragments of conversation took place at odd times that night; and the next morning, soon after breakfast, Trevor made an excuse to his friends, and started for Tolcarne.

“Gone to get his congé, Flick,” said Vanleigh.

“Poor Trevor! Sorry. Not bad ’fler,” said Sir Felix.

“Bah! every man for himself. But we shall have to clear out after this. We’ll go and stay at Saint Francis, and when the old boy finds we are there, he’ll ask us up to Tolcarne.”

“But seems so shabby to poor Trevor,” said Sir Felix.

“Pooh, nonsense! Every man has his crosses in this way. Let’s get out somewhere, though, so as not to be at hand when the poor beggar comes back; he’ll be in a towering fury. I hope he won’t make an ass of himself, and force a quarrel on me.”

Speaking to Papa

Meanwhile Trevor was on his way to Tolcarne, where he was shown into the library. He felt flushed and excited, but he had come with the confidence of a conqueror; and, besides, he could feel that he was no ineligible parti for the young lady.

“Poor Franky, I know he’s bitten by that little fairy,” he said, as he waited impatiently – the “directly” of Edward, who had announced that Sir Hampton was in the garden and would come, having extended to ten minutes.

“Hang the formality of these things!” said Trevor. “I could talk to that dear little woman, Lady Rea, by the hour without feeling uncomfortable; but as to pater – well, there; it’s only once in a man’s life. Here he is.”

The door leading into a farther passage opened this moment, and Trevor rose; but instead of encountering fierce Sir Hampton, in skipped petite Fin, to run up to him flushed and excited, but with her eyes sparkling with pleasure.

She placed both her little hands in his, and her words came in hurried jerks, as she exclaimed —

“Tiny told me all about it – last night – Oh, I’m so glad!”

“That’s right, little fairy,” laughed Trevor, smiling down on the pleasant little face.

“But there’s been such a rumpus, and I came to tell you before pa came.”

“Indeed,” said Trevor, retaining the little hands, though there was no effort made to remove them.

“Yes, pa’s been raging and bullying poor Tiny so. Those friends of yours came and proposed for us, and papa said they might come, and he is horribly cross about it. But you won’t give way?”

“Do I look as if I would?” said Trevor.

“No; and I am glad, because I think you do like Tiny.”

“Like?”

“Well, love her, then. Ma likes you, too.”

“And little Fin?”

“There’s little Fin’s answer,” said the girl, with tears in her eyes, and she held up her face and kissed him with quiet gravity. “Oh, let me go,” she cried, and she struggled from his arms and fled, leaving him to turn round and face Sir Hampton and Aunt Matty, who had entered by the other door.

“What does this mean, sir?” exclaimed Sir Hampton, furiously. “Er-rum! I am astounded!”