sydney saw considerably less of her cousin after the arrival of sir algernon.
he announced that he had come to spend christmas, much to the relief of lady frederica, who declared it would be “such a comfort to have somebody to amuse st. quentin.” he himself acquiesced in the arrangement without saying much, or expressing pleasure or the reverse.
the new inmate of the castle was distinctly an addition to its liveliness. he and lady frederica had several acquaintances in common, and sydney and miss osric, sitting quietly at the dinner-table, found their ideas of various distinguished persons most uncomfortably disarranged. sir algernon had a knack, however, of suiting his conversation to his company. when he overtook sydney and her governess
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returning from taking soup to a sick child in the village, he walked between them, talking very pleasantly of the historical associations and romantic stories connected with st. quentin castle—a subject particularly interesting to sydney, who was beginning to feel a certain pride in the past of the grand old house to which she belonged.
it may be presumed that his conversation pleased st. quentin also, for his guest was shut up with him a good deal in the library, smoking and talking.
in other ways besides amusing conversation, sir algernon’s presence was a boon to the ladies. he was a first-rate whip, and the four-in-hand which st. quentin used to drive was had out from the stables—where it and his shattered motor-car had stood so long idle together—for the benefit of sir algernon. he took lady frederica and sydney out in it: one day they even went as far as donisbro’ and lunched at the principal hotel there.
sydney wished to lunch at the deanery, that she might return a book miss morrell had lent her, but this lady frederica would not allow.
“if you will solemnly swear not to go into the deanery drawing-room on any excuse
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whatsoever, i shall be delighted to escort you to the door, miss lisle,” sir algernon suggested good-naturedly, noticing the way her face fell at lady frederica’s refusal. “we shouldn’t take above twenty minutes getting there and back, if you only leave the book at the door. if lady frederica will allow us, we will go directly after lunch, while she is choosing those cards she spoke of.”
lady frederica agreed readily enough to this arrangement, and the two set out together when their lunch was over, with a parting direction on her part, “be sure you hurry, for the afternoons are so short, and we must start early on our homeward drive.”
they left the parcel with the deanery footman, and retraced their steps through the close and up the steep high street of donisbro’.
the shops were very gay with christmas cards and presents: sir algernon inquired if miss lisle still retained a taste for turkey and plum-pudding? she answered absently, for the christmas preparations brought back home with a painful clearness. she thought of the shopping expeditions which became so many as christmas eve drew on, and the numberless secrets with which the tall old
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house seemed packed from garret to cellar, and the wild excitement of christmas eve; when all the boys and girls who might be trusted to be quite conformable, went out to see the brilliant show of christmas shops under the guardianship of hugh and mildred.
“what’s the girl thinking of?” sir algernon asked himself, a little piqued, for he was not used to having his remarks received with inattention or indifference.
then suddenly a light dawned on him, for sydney’s eyes, which had been fixed rather absently upon the sloppy pavement before her, grew bright with recognition. she broke into a cry of joy, and in a second had sprung forward to seize both the outstretched hands of a young man, who was hurrying down the street towards her. “oh, hugh! hugh!”
“by jove!” sir algernon let out between his teeth, as he stood aside, forgotten by both.
“hugh! what are you doing at donisbro’?”
“sir anthony had an operation to perform here,” hugh explained, “and, like the brick he is, took me as his anæsthetist. i never thought of this luck!”
“oh, hugh! how are they all? how is
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mother? oh, dear! there are such hundreds of things i want to ask you!”
“i’m just the same. how are you, dear? your letters are jolly, but they don’t tell a quarter that we want to know. you’re looking well.” the old brotherly approval in his eyes was replaced, the girl saw, by a new expression. “who are you with? are you driving, or what? can i walk with you? you mustn’t stand in this cold.”
“no, i am sure miss lisle should not,” sir algernon interpolated suavely. “mr. chichester, i suppose?”
hugh bowed and apologised. sydney introduced the two in form, with a loving pride in speaking hugh’s name which did not escape the baronet.
“we ought to be rejoining lady frederica, don’t you think?” he said to her; “we were ordered not to linger.”
“i forgot,” said sydney. “yes, we must go. hugh, come too. i want to show you to lady frederica.”
and hugh, against his better judgment, came. it was hard to refuse sydney anything when the sweet face looked at him so earnestly. besides, at home they would be hungry for news; how could he help saying yes.
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he walked beside her, but confidences were impossible in the presence of sir algernon, although that gentleman made himself exceedingly agreeable according to his wont. still, hugh could look at sydney and hear her speak, and that was something.
they reached the hotel all too soon. lady frederica was looking out for them and the introduction was made. she was civil, but by no means cordial, and conveyed an accent of disapproval into her polite surprise at seeing mr. chichester so far from town.
sydney explained eagerly, but lady frederica’s “indeed!” was discouraging, and there was a pause. hugh felt he was expected to take his leave, and took it.
“good-bye, sydney, i’m—awfully glad to have seen you.”
“good-bye! good-bye, hugh—my love to them at home, a great deal of love, you know, hugh. good-bye!”
oh, dear! how much there was that sydney wanted to say to him! if only lady frederica would have left them for a little time alone! if only sir algernon had not been there when they met! she wanted—oh, so much!—to hear the little things that letters never tell; those little items of everyday home news for which she
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felt so sick with longing suddenly. why hadn’t she asked this, that, and the other? she seemed to have said nothing but good-bye. she was very quiet upon the homeward drive, so quiet that sir algernon looked curiously at her more than once. and when they reached the castle, and the girl had gone up to the school-room, he went into the library to st. quentin.
“got any views for that little girl, quin?” he asked carelessly, when he had answered his host’s inquiries as to the conditions of the roads, the “pace of the greys,” and other details of their day.
“possibly, but none that i need your advice upon, thanks,” was the answer.
“don’t get riled, old man, i wasn’t offering it.” sir algernon lit a cigarette with great care and sat down by the fire. “it strikes me that she has views of her own, as well,” he concluded.
“suppose we leave sydney out of the conversation, altogether!” said st. quentin.
“oh, just as you please, of course. do you want the people who brought her up—the chichesters—to be a tabooed subject as well?”
“what of them?”
“oh, a son is at donisbro’, that’s all.”
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“one of the chichesters?”
“yes; she called him hugh.”
sir algernon leaned back luxuriously in his chair, stretching out his feet to the cheerful blaze.
“you don’t mean to say that my aunt allowed the child to enter into conversation with him?” st. quentin’s tone was very sharp; sir algernon laughed lightly.
“don’t look so fierce, old chap. i was the guilty party, i’m afraid. i was escorting her back to lady frederica after leaving a parcel with some girl or other, when we ran across this young chemist’s assistant, or whatever he is. they fairly rushed into each other’s arms. i couldn’t interfere very well, you see, though i did venture to suggest, after a lengthy period of patient freezing, that there was a limit to the time he ought to keep her standing in the street. he walked with us to the hotel, and there lady frederica choked him off. you needn’t look so furious, quin, there wasn’t much harm done; only i fancy miss sydney isn’t quite the pliable little wax saint you think her, she——”
“leave her name alone, please!”
“oh, very well! you’ve grown uncommonly stand-offish of late, my dear chap; you’ll be
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showing me the door next, eh?” his laugh was not particularly pleasant.
st. quentin was frowning heavily. “you might leave me quiet a bit,” he said. “i’m not in the best of humours, to-night.”
“don’t mention it,” said sir algernon, rising and flinging his cigarette away; “it’s quite unnecessary, i assure you.” and he went to lady frederica in the drawing-room.
“would you go to his lordship in the library, please, ma’am, if quite convenient,” a footman said, a little later, coming to the school-room, where sydney and miss osric, undeterred by the approach of dinner, were thoroughly enjoying a very late tea.
sydney put down her cup and got up at once.
“are you quite rested now, dear?” asked miss osric. “you looked tired when you came in, and i am sure, if you are tired still, lord st. quentin would excuse you.”
“i don’t think i’m tired,” sydney said, and went down the wide stairs and across the hall to the library.
st. quentin was alone, but she knew sir algernon had been there by the smell of smoke. her cousin’s eyebrows were drawn close together, and there was a look upon
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his face which was new to her. he seemed to have forgotten to smile at her entrance to-day.
“come here, sydney,” he said sharply. “i have something to say to you. i hear you met that young chichester this afternoon.” his contemptuous tone made the colour flame into her face.
“yes, i did,” she said a little bit defiantly; “of course i was going to tell you about it.”
“were you?” said st. quentin. “now, sydney, we had better understand each other. the chichesters brought you up, and of course you owe a debt of gratitude to them in consequence. i have no objection whatsoever to your paying it—in any reasonable way. i spoke to braemuir on the subject when he was staying here, and he promised me to use his influence towards getting some of those boys a start in life. i don’t suppose you know that, though the estate is by no means as unencumbered as i could wish, i offered to refund your doctor what he spent on you in your childhood, and——”
“he said ‘no,’ of course!” sydney cried, with flashing eyes. “why, i was father’s child—of course he wouldn’t be paid for keeping me!”
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“don’t indulge in heroics, please; they bore me,” st. quentin observed drily. “yes, dr. chichester—try to drop the expression ‘father,’ please, in speaking of him; it only makes you sound ridiculous—dr. chichester, i say, refused my offer with some heat. like you, he appeared to consider it insulting. tastes differ; mine is, as you know, for common sense. now, i should be obliged if you would kindly give me your attention for five minutes. you are going to occupy a great position, and i do not intend to have those chichesters hanging round you. those brother-and-sister friendships are charming in theory, but they don’t work. i know what they lead to. i should be obliged if you would correspond less frequently with the doctor’s family, and shall request aunt rica to see to it. and i distinctly forbid you to have anything to do with that young man when next he happens to be staying in these parts. do you understand me?”
“do you mean you want me to forget mother and father, and all the rest of them at home?” sydney cried. there was an odd expression on st. quentin’s face, as he watched the growing indignation upon hers.
“well, something like it—you won’t find
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it very difficult in time, i assure you,” was his answer.
“i don’t mean to do it!” she said with a trembling voice. “i shall have to obey you about not writing so often, or speaking to hugh if i meet him, but i can’t and i won’t forget them! i hate this place! i wish i had never come, and when you talk like that i hate you!... i was beginning to care about you, but i don’t now at all!” she was fighting to keep back her sobs. “do you forget the people you have cared for, that you want me to?” she asked him fiercely, and went quickly out.
st. quentin turned his head and looked after her.
“do i forget?” he muttered; “no, i wish i did!”
