it is grievous, when ill-feeling arises between brothers, that that ill-feeling should be cherished instead of being subdued. but such was the case with anthony and herbert dare. by the time the sunny month of may came in, matters had grown to such a height between them, that mr. dare found himself compelled to interfere. it was beginning to make things in the house uncomfortable. they would meet at meals, and not only abstain from speaking to each other, but take every possible opportunity of showing mutual and marked discourtesy. no positive outbreak between them had as yet taken place in the presence of the family: but it was only smouldering, and might be daily looked for.
mr. dare, so far as the original cause went, blamed his eldest son. undoubtedly anthony had been solely in fault. it was a dishonourable, ungenerous, unmanly act, to draw his brother into trouble, and to do it plausibly and deceitfully. at the present stage of the affair, mr. dare saw occasion to blame herbert more than anthony. "it is you who keep up the ball, herbert," he said to him. "if you would suffer the matter to die away, anthony would do so." "of course he would," herbert replied. "he has served his turn, and would be glad that it should end there."
it was in vain that mr. dare talked to them. a dozen times did he recommend them to "shake hands and make it up." neither appeared inclined to take the advice. anthony was sullen. he would have been content to let the affair drop quietly into oblivion: perhaps, as herbert said, had been glad that it should so drop; but, make the slightest move towards it, he would not. herbert openly said that he'd not shake hands. if anthony wanted ever to shake hands with him again, let him pay up.
there lay the grievance; "paying up." the bills, not paid, were a terrible thorn in the side of herbert dare. he was responsible, and he knew not one hour from another but he might be arrested on them. to soothe matters between his sons, mr. dare would willingly have taken the charge of payment upon himself, but he had positively not the money to do it with. in point of fact, mr. dare was growing seriously embarrassed on his own score. he had had a great deal of trouble with his sons, with anthony in particular, and he had grown sick and tired of helping them out of pecuniary difficulties. still, he would have relieved herbert of this one nightmare, had it been in his power. herbert had been deluded into it, without any advantage to himself; therefore mr. dare had the will, could he have managed it, to help him out. he told herbert that he would see what he could do after a while. the promise did not relieve herbert of present fears; neither did it restore peace between the malcontents. had herbert been relieved of that particular embarrassment, others would have remained to him; but that fact did not in the least lessen his soreness, as to the point in question.
it was an intensely hot day; far hotter than is usual at the season; and the afternoon sun streamed full on the windows of pomeranian knoll, suggesting thoughts of july, instead of may. a gay party—at any rate, a party dressed in gay attire—were crossing the hall to enter a carriage that waited at the door. mr. dare, mrs. dare, and adelaide. mrs. dare had always been given to gay attire, and her daughters had inherited her taste. they were going to dine at a friend's house, a few miles' distance from helstonleigh. the invitation was for seven o'clock. it was now striking six, the dinner-hour at mr. dare's.
minny, looking half melted, had perched herself upon the end of the balustrades to watch the departure.
"you'll fall, child," said mr. dare.
minny laughed, and said there was no danger of her falling. she wondered what her father would think if he saw her sometimes at her gymnastics on the balustrades, taking a sweeping slide from the top to the bottom. she generally contrived that he should not see her; or mademoiselle either. mademoiselle had caught sight of the performance once, and had given her a whole french fable to learn by way of punishment.
"are we to have strawberries for dinner, mamma?" asked minny.
"you will have what i have thought proper to order," replied mrs. dare rather sharply. she was feeling hot and cross. something had put her out while dressing.
"i think you might wait for strawberries until they are ripe in our own garden; not buy them regardless of cost," interposed mr. dare, speaking for the general benefit, but not to any one in particular.
minny dropped the subject. "your dress is turned up, adelaide," said she.
adelaide looked languidly behind her, and a maid, who had followed them down, advanced and put right the refractory dress: a handsome dress of pink silk, glistening with its own richness. at that moment anthony entered the hall. he had just come home to dinner, and looked in a very bad humour.
"how late you'll be!" he cried.
"not at all. we shall drive there in an hour."
they swept out at the door, mrs. dare and adelaide. mr. dare was about to follow them when a sudden thought appeared to strike him, and he turned back and addressed anthony.
"you young men take care that you don't get quarrelling with each other. do you hear, anthony?"
"i hear," ungraciously replied anthony, not turning to speak, but continuing his way up to his dressing-room. he probably regarded the injunction with contempt, for it was too much in anthony dare's nature so to regard all advice, of whatever kind. nevertheless it had been well that he had given heed to it. it had been well that that last word to his father had been one of affection!
dinner was served. anthony, in the absence of mr. and mrs. dare, took the head. rosa, with a show of great parade and ceremony, assumed the seat opposite to him and said she should be mistress. minny responded that rosa was not going to be mistress over her, and the governess desired miss rosa not to talk so loudly. rather derogatory checks, these, to the dignity of a "mistress."
herbert was not at table. irregular as the young dares were in many of their habits, they were generally home to dinner. minny wondered aloud where herbert was. anthony replied that he was "skulking."
"skulking!" echoed minny.
"yes, skulking," angrily repeated anthony. "he left the office at three o'clock, and has never been near it since. and the governor left at four!" he added, in a tone that seemed to say he considered that also a grievance.
"where did herbert go to?" asked rosa.
"i don't know," responded anthony. "i only know that i had a double share of work to do."
anthony dare was no friend to work. and having had to do a little more than he would have done had herbert remained at his post, had considerably aggravated his temper.
"why should monsieur herbert go away and leave you his work to do?" inquired the governess, lifting her eyes from her plate to anthony.
"i shall take care to ask him why," returned anthony.
"it is not fair that he should," continued mademoiselle. "i would not have done it for him, monsieur anthony."
"neither should i, had i not been obliged," said anthony, not in the least relaxing from his ill-humour, either in looks or tone. "it was work that had to be done before post-time, and one of our clerks is away on business to-day."
dinner proceeded to its close. joseph hesitated, unwilling to remove the cloth. "is it to be left for mr. herbert?" he asked.
"no!" imperiously answered anthony. "if he cannot come in for dinner, dinner shall not be kept for him."
"cook is keeping the things by the fire, sir."
"then tell her to save herself the trouble."
so the cloth was removed, and dessert put on. to minny's inexpressible disappointment it turned out that there were no strawberries. this put her into an ill-humour, and she left the table and the room, declaring she would not touch anything else. mademoiselle varsini called her back, and ordered her to her seat; she would not permit so great a breach of discipline. cyril and george, who were not under mademoiselle's control, gulped down a glass of wine, and hastened out to keep an engagement. it was a very innocent one; a cricket match had been organized for the evening, by some of the old college boys; and cyril and george were amongst the players. it has never been mentioned that mr. ashley, in his strict sense of justice, had allowed cyril the privilege of spending his evenings at home five nights in the week, as he did to william halliburton.
the rest remained at table. minny, per force; rosa, to take an unlimited quantity of oranges; mademoiselle varsini, because it was the custom to remain. but mademoiselle soon rose and withdrew with her pupils; anthony was not showing himself a particularly sociable companion. he had not touched any dessert; but seemed to be drinking a good deal of wine.
as they were going out of the room, herbert bustled in. "now then, take care!" cried he, for minny, paying little attention to her movements, had gone full tilt at him.
"oh! herbert, can't you see?" cried she, dolefully rubbing her head. "what made you so late? dinner's gone away."
"it can be brought in again," replied herbert carelessly. "comme il est chaud! n'est-ce pas, mademoiselle?"
this last was addressed to the governess. rosa screamed with laughter at his bad french, and mademoiselle smiled. "you get on in french as you do in italian, monsieur herbert," cried she. "and that is what you call—backward."
herbert laughed good-humouredly. he did not know what particular mistake he had made; truth to say, he did not care. they withdrew, and he rang the bell for his dinner.
"mind, herbert," cried minny, putting in her head again at the door, "papa said you were not to quarrel."
better, perhaps, that she had not said it! who can tell?
the brothers remained alone. anthony sullen, and, as yet, silent. he appeared to have emptied the port wine decanter, and to be beginning upon the sherry! herbert strolled past him; supreme indifference in his manner—some might have said contempt—and stood just outside the window, whistling.
you have not forgotten that this dining-room window opened to the ground. the apartment was long and somewhat narrow, the window large and high, and opening in the centre, after the manner of a french one. the door was at one end of the room; the window at the other.
anthony was in too quarrelsome a mood to remain silent long. he began the skirmish by demanding what herbert meant by absenting himself from the office for the afternoon, and where he had been to. his resentful tones, his authoritative words, were not calculated to win a very civil answer.
they did not win one from herbert. his tones were resentful, too; his words were coolly aggravating. anthony was not his master; when he was, he might, perhaps, answer him. such was their purport.
a hot interchange of words ensued. nothing more. anthony remained at the table; herbert, half in, half out of the window, leaned against its frame. when joseph returned to put things in readiness for herbert's dinner, they had subsided into quietness. it was only a lull in the storm.
joseph placed the dessert nearer anthony's end of the table, and laid the cloth across the other end. herbert came into the room. "what a time you are with dinner, joseph!" cried he. "one would think it was being cooked over again."
"cook's warming it, sir."
"warming it!" echoed herbert. "why couldn't she keep it warm? she might be sure i should be home to dinner."
"she was keeping it warm, sir; but mr. anthony ordered it to be put away."
now, the man had really no intention of making mischief when he said this: that it might cause ill-feeling between the brothers never crossed his mind. he was only anxious that he and the cook should stand free from blame; for the young dares, when displeased with the servants, were not in the habit of sparing them. herbert turned to anthony.
"what business have you to interfere with my dinner? or with anything else that concerns me?"
"i choose to make it my business," insolently retorted anthony.
at this juncture joseph left the room. he had laid the cloth, and had nothing more to stay for. better perhaps that he had remained! surely they would not have proceeded to extremities, the brothers, before their servant! in a short time, sounds, as if both were in a terrible state of fury, resounded through the house from the dining-room. the sounds did not reach the kitchen, which was partially detached from the house; but the young ladies heard them, and came running out of the drawing-room.
the governess was in the school-room. the noise penetrated even there. she also came forth, and saw her two pupils extended over the balustrades, listening. at any other time mademoiselle would have reproved them: now she crept down and leaned over in company.
"what can be the matter?" whispered she.
"papa told them not to quarrel!" was all the answer, uttered by minny.
it was a terrible quarrel—there was little doubt of that; no child's play. passionate bursts of fury rose incessantly, now from one, now from the other, now from both. hot recrimination; words that were not suited to unaccustomed ears—or to any ears, for the matter of that—rose high and loud. the governess turned pale, and minny burst into tears.
"some one ought to go into the room," said rosa. "minny, you go! tell them to be quiet."
"i am afraid," replied minny.
"so am i."
a fearful sound: an explosion louder than all the rest. a noise as if some heavy weight had been thrown down. had it come to blows? minny shrieked, and at the same moment joseph was seen coming along with a tray, herbert's dinner upon it.
his presence seemed to bring with it a sense of courage, and rosa and minny flew down followed by the governess. herbert had been knocked down by anthony. he was gathering himself up when joseph opened the door. gathering himself up in a tempest of passion, his white face a livid fury, as he caught hold of a knife from the table and rushed upon anthony.
but joseph was too quick for him. the man dashed his tray on the table, seized herbert, and turned the uplifted knife downwards. "for heaven's sake, sir, recollect yourself!" said he.
recollect himself then? no. persons, who put themselves into that mad state of passion, cannot "recollect" themselves. joseph kept his hold, and the dining-room resounded with shrieks and sobs. they proceeded from rosa and minny. they pulled their brothers by the coats, they implored, they entreated. the women servants came flying from the kitchen, and the italian governess asked the two gentlemen in french whether they were not ashamed of themselves.
perhaps they were. at any rate the quarrel was, for the time, ended. herbert flung the knife upon the table and turned his white face upon his brother.
"take care of yourself, though!" cried he, in marked tones: "i swear you shall have it yet."
they pulled anthony out of the room, rosa and minny; or it is difficult to say what rejoinder he might have made, or how violently the quarrel might have been renewed. it was certain that he had taken more wine than was good for him; and that, generally speaking, did not improve the temper of anthony dare. mademoiselle varsini walked by his side, talking volubly in french. whether she was sympathizing or scolding, anthony did not know. not particularly bright at understanding french at the best of times, even when spoken slowly, he could not, in his present excitement, catch the meaning of a single word. entering the drawing-room, he threw himself upon the sofa, intending to smooth down his ruffled plumage by taking a nap.
herbert meanwhile had remained in the dining-room, smoothing down his ruffled plumage. joseph and the cook were bending over the débris on the carpet. when joseph dashed down his tray on the table, a dish of potatoes had bounded off; both dish and potatoes thereby coming to grief. herbert sat down and made an excellent dinner. he was not of a sullen temper; and, unlike anthony, the affair once over he was soon himself again. should they come into contact again directly, there was no saying how it would end or what might ensue. his dinner over, he went by-and-by to the drawing-room. joseph had just entered, and was arousing anthony from the sleep he had dropped into. "one of the waiters from the star-and-garter has come, sir. he says lord hawkesley has sent him to say that the gentlemen are waiting for you."
"i can't go, tell him," responded anthony, speaking as he looked, thoroughly out of sorts. "i am not going out to-night. here! joseph!" for the man was turning away with the message.
"sir?"
"take these, and bring me my slippers."
"these" were his boots, which he, not very politely, kicked off in the ladies' presence, and sent flying after joseph. the man stooped to pick them up and was carrying them away.
"here!—what a hurry you are in!" began anthony again. "take lights up to my chamber, and the brandy, and some cold water. i shall make myself comfortable there for the night. this room's unbearable, with its present company."
the last was a shaft levelled at herbert. he did not retort, for a wonder. in fact, anthony afforded little time for it. before the words had well left his lips, he had left the room. herbert began to whistle; its very tone insolent.
it appeared almost certain that the unpleasantness was not yet over; and rosa audibly wished her papa was at home. joseph carried to anthony's room what he required, and then brought the tea to the drawing-room. herbert said he should take tea with them. it was rather unusual for him to do so; it was very unusual for anthony not to go out. their sisters felt sure that they were only staying in to renew hostilities; and again rosa almost passionately wished for the presence of her father.
it was dusk by the time tea was over. herbert rose to leave the room. "where are you going?" cried mademoiselle sharply after him.
"that's my business," he replied, not in too conciliatory a tone. perhaps he thought the question proceeded from one of his sisters, for he was outside the door when it reached him.
"he is going into anthony's room!" cried rosa, turning pale, as they heard him run upstairs. "oh, mademoiselle! what can be done? i think i'll call joseph."
"hush!" cried mademoiselle. "wait you here. i will go and see."
she stole out of the room and up the stairs, intending to reconnoitre. but she had no time to do so. herbert was coming down again, and she could only slip inside the school-room door, and peep out. he had evidently been upstairs for his cloak, for he was putting it on as he descended.
"the cloak on a hot night like this!" said mademoiselle mentally. "he must want to disguise himself!"
she stopped to listen. joseph had come up the stairs, bringing something to anthony, and herbert arrested him, speaking in low tones.
"don't make any mistake to-night about the dining-room window, joseph. i can't think how you could have been so stupid last night!"
"sir, i assure you i left it undone, as usual," replied joseph. "it must have been master who fastened it."
"well, take care that it does not occur again," said herbert. "i expect to be in between ten and eleven; but i may be later, and i don't want to ring you up again."
herbert went swiftly downstairs and out, choosing to depart by the way, as it appeared, that he intended to enter—the dining-room window. joseph proceeded to anthony's chamber: and the governess returned to her frightened pupils in the drawing-room.
"a la bonne heure!" she said to them. "monsieur herbert has gone out, and i heard him say to joseph that he had gone for the evening."
"then it's all safe!" cried minny. and she began dancing round the room. "mademoiselle, how pale you look!"
mademoiselle had sat down in her place before the tea-tray, and was leaning her cheek upon her hand. she was certainly looking unusually pale. "enough to make me!" she said, in answer to minny. "if there were to be this disturbance often in the house, i would not stop in it for double my appointements. it has given me one of those vilaine headaches, and i think i shall go to bed. you will not be afraid to stay up alone, mesdemoiselles?"
"there is nothing to be afraid of now," promptly answered rosa, who had far rather be without her governess's company than with it. "don't sit up for us, mademoiselle."
"then i will go at once," said mademoiselle. and she wished them good night, and retired to her chamber.
