Halcyone: Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"Since there will be three gentlemen, Ginevra," Miss Roberta said on
Saturday morning when they sat together in the Italian parlor after
breakfast, "do you not think we had better have Halcyone down to dinner
to-night? I know," she added timidly, "it is not in the proper order of
things, but we could make an exception."

Miss La Sarthe frowned. Roberta so often was ready to upset regulations.
She was difficult to deal with. But this suggestion of hers had some
point.

They would be two ladies to three of the other sex--and one of their
guests appeared to be quite a young man--perhaps it might be more
prudent to relax a rule, than to find themselves in an embarrassing
position.

"I strongly deplore the fact of children ever being brought from their
seclusion except for dessert, but as you say, Roberta, three
gentlemen--and one a perfect stranger--might be too much for us. I
hardly think our Mamma would have approved of our giving such an
unchaperoned party, so for this once Halcyone had better come down. She
can have Mr. Miller for her partner, you will be conducted by the
Professor--and the new guest will take me in."

Miss Roberta bridled--the Professor was now a hero in her eyes.

"And Sister," she said, "I think we might bring six of the chairs from
Sir Timothy's bed- and dressing-room just for to-night, instead of those
Windsor ones. It would give the dining-room a better look, do you not
think so?"

And to this also Miss La Sarthe agreed. So Miss Roberta joyfully found
Halcyone out upon the second terrace and imparted to her the good news.
They would arrange flowers in the �pergne, she suggested--a few sweet
williams and mignonette and a foxglove or two. A pretty posy fixed in
sand, such as she remembered there always was in their gala days.
Halcyone was enchanted at the prospect.

"Oh! dear Aunt Roberta, do let me do it all," she said. "You sit here on
the bench and I will run and fetch the �pergne--and we can pick what we
think best. Or--don't you think just a big china bowl full of sweet peas
would be prettier? The sand might show and, and--the �pergne is rather
stiff."

But Miss Roberta looked aggrieved. The �pergne with its gold and silver
fern leaves climbing up a thin stalk of glass to its top dish for fruit
had always come out for dinner parties and she liked not innovations. It
was indeed as much as Halcyone could do to get all the flowers of the
same kind, a nasturtium and a magenta stock had with care to be smuggled
away, leaving the sweet peas sole occupants of the sand. But the effect
was very festive and the two carried their work into the dining-room
well pleased.

The best S�vres dinner-set was had out, which that traveler Timothy had
brought from Paris among other things, and the best cut glass and
rat-tailed silver. Old William, assisted by Hester and Priscilla, had
been busy polishing most of the day--while the cook and the "young
person from the village" were contriving wonders in the vast kitchen.
And punctually at seven in broad daylight, the three Misses La Sarthe,
the two elder in their finest mauve silk evening dresses, awaited their
guests in the Italian parlor.

Miss Roberta's heart had not fluttered like this since a county ball
some forty years ago when a certain whiskered captain of a dashing
cavalry regiment stationed at Upminster had whispered in her ear.

Priscilla had let down Halcyone's white muslin frock and as the tucks
were rather large, it was longer than she intended, so that the child
might easily have been taken for a girl of fifteen, and her perfect feet
were encased in a pair of old-fashioned bronze slippers with elastics
crossed up the legs of her white silk stockings. A fillet of blue silk
kept back the soft cloud of her mouse-colored hair.

Mr. Miller was announced first--very nervous, as usual, and saying the
wrong thing in his flurry. Then up the terrace steps could be seen
advancing Mr. Carlyon and his guest. They had walked over from the
cottage--and Halcyone, observing from the window, was conscious that
against her will she was admiring John Derringham's arrogant, commanding
walk.

"He could very well be as Theseus was after he grew proud," she said to
herself.

And soon they were announced.

Mr. Carlyon was now on the most friendly terms with both old ladies, and
as well as coming to the monthly dinner, sometimes dropped in to tea on
Sunday afternoons, but he knew this was a real party and must be treated
as such.

How agreeable it felt to be once more in the world, Miss Roberta
thought, and her faded pale cheeks flushed a delicate pink.

John Derringham had been sulky as a bear at the idea of coming, but
something in the quaintly pathetic refinement of the poor and splendid
old house pleased him, and the aroma of untouched early-Victorian
prudish grace which the ancient ladies threw around them appealed to his
imagination, as any complete bit of art or nature always did. He found
himself seated between Miss La Sarthe and Halcyone and quite enjoying
himself. Everything was of the time from the �pergne to the way the
bread was cut.

Halcyone conversed with Mr. Miller, who always felt he must make nursery
jokes with her and ask her the names of her dolls.

"He can't help it," she told Cheiron one day. "If he had any more
intelligence God would have put him to work in some busier place."

John Derringham did not address her; he devoted himself to Miss La
Sarthe.

He had absolutely no diffidence. He had been spoilt from his cradle, and
by the time he had left Eton--Captain of the Oppidans--had ruled all
those near him with a rod of iron, imposing his interesting enthusiastic
personality upon all companies with unqualified success. Miss La Sarthe
fell at once. He said exactly the right things to her and flattered her
by his unfeigned interest in all she spoke of. He was studying her as he
studied any rare memento of historical value.

"My great-niece reads every morning with Mr. Carlyon," she said
presently. "Girls are expected to be so very clever nowadays, we are
told. She already knows a little Greek. It would have been considered
quite unnecessary in our day."

"And I am sure it is in this," said John Derringham. "Learned women are
an awful bore. As a sex they were meant to be feminine, dainty,
exquisite creatures as those I see to-night," and he bowed gallantly
while Miss La Sarthe thrilled. She thoroughly approved of his
appearance.

"So very much of a gentleman, Roberta," she afterwards said. "None of
that thick, ill-cut look we are obliged to observe in so many of the
younger people we see when we go into Upminster each year."

"And why should he look thick or ill-cut, Sister?" Miss Roberta replied.
"Mr. Carlyon told me the Derringhams have been seated at Derringham
since fabulous times."

Thus this last of that race was appreciated fully in at least two
antiquated female hearts.

But meanwhile the cloth was being removed, and the port wine and old
Madeira placed before the elder hostess.

"Our father's cellar was famous for its port," she said, "and we have a
few bottles of the '47 left."

But now she felt it was only manners to turn to Mr. Carlyon upon her
other hand, so John Derringham was left in silence, no obligation to
talk to Halcyone making itself felt. She turned and looked at him, he
interested her very much. Mr. Carlyon had quantities of books of
photographs of all the famous statues in Europe and especially in Italy
and Greece, but she could not find any likeness to him in any of her
recollection of them. Alas! his face was not at all Greek. His nose was
high and aquiline, his forehead high and broad, and there was something
noble and dominating in his fearless regard. His hair even did not grow
very prettily, though it was thick and dark--and there was not an ounce
of superfluous flesh upon his whole person. He never for a moment
suggested repose, he gave the impression of vivid, nervous force and
action, a young knight going out to fight any impossible dragon with his
good sword and shield--unabashed by the smoke from its flaming nostrils,
undaunted by any fear of death.

Halcyone watched him, and her prejudice slept.

The silence had lasted quite five minutes when he allowed his natural
good manners, which he was quite aware he had kept in abeyance in regard
to her, to come uppermost.

"The Professor has been telling me how wonderfully you work with him,"
he said; "we under him at Oxford were not half so diligent it seems. I
wonder what good it will be to you at all."

"If a thing gives pleasure, it is good," she answered gravely. "I wanted
to learn Greek because I had a book when I was little which told me
about those splendid heroes, and I thought I could read more about them
when I am grown up if I knew it--than if I did not."

"There is something in that. What was the book?" he asked.

Her steady eyes looked straight into his as she replied: "It was
Kingsley's 'Heroes' and if only I were a boy I would be like Perseus and
go and kill the Gorgon and rescue Andromeda from the sea monster. Pallas
Athen� said some fine things to him--do you remember?--when she asked
him the question of which sort of man he would be."

"No, I don't remember," said John Derringham. "You must tell me now."

Then Halcyone began in a soft dream voice while her eyes widened and
darkened with that strange look as though she saw into another and
vaster world. "'I am Pallas Athen� and I know the thoughts of all men's
hearts, and discern their manhood or their baseness. And from the souls
of clay I turn away; and they are blest, but not by me. They fatten at
ease like sheep in the pasture and eat what they did not sow, like oxen
in the stall. They grow and spread like the gourd along the ground, but
like the gourd they give no shade to the traveler and when they are ripe
death gathers them, and they go down unloved into hell, and their name
vanishes out of the land.'"

She paused a second and John Derringham was astonished at himself
because he was conscious of experiencing a thrill of deep interest.

"Yes?" he said--and her voice went on:

"'But to the souls of fire I give more fire and to those who are manful
I give a might more than man's. These are the heroes, the sons of the
Immortals who are blest but not like the souls of clay, for I drive them
forth by strange paths, Perseus, that they may fight the Titans and
monsters, the enemies of gods and men. Through doubt and need and danger
and battle I drive them, and some of them are slain in the flower of
youth, no man knows when or where, and some of them win noble names and
a fair and green old age--but what will be their latter end, I know not,
and none, save Zeus, the father of gods and men--Tell me, now, Perseus,
which of these two sorts of men seem to you more blest?'"

It was as if she asked him a personal question and unconsciously he
answered:

"I should reply as Perseus did. Tell me his words."

"'Better to die in the flower of youth on the chance of winning a noble
name than to live at ease like the sheep and die unloved and
unrenowned.'"

He bent nearer to her and answered softly: "They are indeed fine words,"
and there was no mockery whatever in his eyes as he looked at her--and
took in every detail of her pure childish face. "You wonderful, strange
little girl--soon I too am going like Perseus to fight the Gorgons, and
I shall remember this night and what you have said."

But at that moment Mr. Miller's high, cackling laugh was heard in an
explosion of mirth. Mr. Carlyon had made some delightfully obvious joke
for his delectation and amidst a smiling company Miss La Sarthe rose
with dignity to leave the gentlemen alone with their wine.

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