A College Girl by Mrs. George de Horne Vaizey
CHAPTER TEN.
A TREATY.
If there were innumerable good points in an acquaintance with thePercival family, there was certainly the inevitable drawback, for on thedays when she was alone with her great-aunt, Darsie was renderedlonelier and more restless than before by the knowledge that a couple ofmiles away were three agreeable young companions who would be only toopleased to include her in their pastimes. The different points of viewheld by youth and age were, as usual, painfully in evidence. Darsieconsidered that it would be desirable to meet the Percivals "everysingle day"; Aunt Maria was glad that you had enjoyed yourself; waspleased that you should meet young friends, and suggested a returninvitation, "some day next week!" pending which far-off period you wereexpected to be content with the usual routine of morning drive,afternoon needlework, and evening patience. Really--really--really, tohave lived to that age, and to have no better understanding! Lettersfrom the seaside did not tend to soothe the exile's discontent. Itseemed callous of the girls to expatiate on the joys of bathing,fishing, and generally running wild, to one who was practising a lady-like decorum in the society of an old lady over seventy years of age,and although Dan kept his promise to the extent of a letter of two wholesheets, he gave no hint of deploring Darsie's own absence. It was intruth a dull, guide-booky epistle, all about stupid "places of interest"in the neighbourhood, in which Darsie was frankly uninterested. All theRoman remains in the world could not have counted at that moment againstone little word of friendly regret, but that word was not forthcoming,and the effect of the missive was depressing, rather than the reverse.Mother's letters contained little news, but were unusually loving--wistfully, almost, as it were, _apologetically_ loving! The exilerealised that in moments of happy excitement, when brothers and sisterswere forgetful of her existence, a shadow would fall across mother'sface, and she would murmur softly, "_Poor_ little Darsie!" Darsie's owneyes filled at the pathos of the thought. She was filled withcommiseration for her own hard plight... Father's letters were bracing.No pity here; only encouragement and exhortation. "Remember, my dear,a sacrifice grudgingly offered is no sacrifice at all. What is worthdoing, is worth doing well. I hope to hear that you are not only anagreeable, but also a cheerful and cheering companion to your old aunt!"
Darsie's shoulders hitched impatiently. "Oh! Oh! Sounds like a copy-book. _I_ could make headlines, too! Easy to talk when you're nottried. Can't put an old head on young shoulders. Callous youth, andcrabbed age..."
Not that Aunt Maria was really crabbed. Irritable perhaps, peculiarcertainly, finicky and old-fashioned to a degree, yet with a certainbedrock kindliness of nature which forbade the use of so hard a term as_crabbed_. Since the date of the hair episode Darsie's admiration forLady Hayes's dignified self-control had been steadily on the increase.She even admitted to her secret self that in time to come--far, far-offtime to come,--she would like to become like Aunt Maria in this respectand cast aside her own impetuous, storm-tossed ways. At seventy one_ought_ to be calm and slow to wrath, but at fifteen! Who could expecta poor little flapper of fifteen to be anything but fire and flame!
Wet days were the great trial--those drizzling, chilly days which have adisagreeable habit of intruding into our English summers. Darsie,shivering in a washing dress, "occupying herself quietly with herneedlework" in the big grim morning-room, was in her most prickly andrebellious of moods.
"Hateful to have such weather in summer! My fingers are so cold I canhardly work."
"It is certainly very chill."
"Aunt Maria, couldn't we have a fire? It would be _something_ cheerfulto look at!"
"My dear!" Lady Hayes was apparently transfixed with amazement. "Afire! You forget, surely, the month! The month of August. We neverbegin fires until the first of October."
"You'd be much more comfortable if you did."
There being no controverting the truth of this statement, Lady Hayesmade no reply. But after the lapse of a few minutes she volunteered asuggestion.
"There is a grey Shetland shawl folded up under the sofa rug. You hadbetter put it over your shoulders, since you feel so cold."
"_I_?" Darsie gave an impatient laugh. "Fancy me wrapped up in aShetland shawl! I'd sooner freeze."
Lady Hayes dropped her eyelids and tightened her lips. Her mannerpointed out more eloquently than words the fact that her guest waswanting in respect, but as hostess it was her duty to consider thecomfort of her guest, so presently she rang the bell and gaveinstructions that a cup of hot cocoa should be served at eleven o'clockinstead of the usual glass of milk. She herself was never guilty of theenormity of eating between meals, so that the listener knew perfectlywell for whose benefit the order was given, but being at once cold,lonely, and cross, her heart was hardened, and she spoke no word.
Between that time and the appearance of James with the tray Aunt Mariamade three successive attempts to open new topics of conversation, whichwere each time checkmated by monosyllabic replies. There was a tone ofrelief in her voice, as of one hailing a much-needed assistance, as shesaid briskly--
"Now, my dear, here is your cocoa! Drink it while it is hot. It willwarm you up."
"Thank you, I don't drink cocoa. It makes me sick."
There was a moment's silence. James stood at attention, tray in hand.Lady Hayes tightened her lips, and the little red lines on her cheeksturned a curious bluish shade. Then she cleared her throat, and said inher most courteous tones--
"I am sorry. Would you kindly tell James what you would like instead.Tea--coffee--soup? A warm drink would be better than milk thismorning."
"Nothing, thank you."
"Nothing, James! You may go."
James departed. Aunt Maria went on with her knitting, the click-clickof the needles sounding startlingly distinct in the silent room. Darsiesat shamed and miserable, now that her little ebullition of spleen wasover, acutely conscious of the rudeness of her behaviour. For fiveminutes by the clock the silence lasted; but in penitence, as in fault,there was no patience in Darsie's nature, and at the end of the fiveminutes the needlework was thrown on the floor, and with a quick lightmovement she was on her knees by Lady Hayes's side.
"Aunt Maria, forgive me. I'm a pig!"
"Excuse me, my dear, you are mistaken. You are a young gentlewoman whohas failed to behave as such."
"Oh, Aunt Maria, don't, _don't_ be proper!" pleaded Darsie, half-laughing, half in tears. "I _am_ a pig, and I behaved as much, andyou're a duchess and a queen, and I can't imagine how you put up with meat all. I wonder you don't turn me out of doors, neck and crop!"
Lady Hayes put down her knitting and rested her right hand lightly onthe girl's head, but she did not smile; her face looked very grave andsad.
"Indeed, Darsie, my dear," she said slowly, "that is just what I amthinking of doing. Not `neck and crop'--that's an exaggerated manner ofspeaking, but, during the last few days I have been coming to theconclusion that I made a mistake in separating you from your family. Ithought too much of my own interests, and not enough of yours." Shesmiled, a strained, pathetic little smile. "I think I hardly realisedhow _young_ you were! One forgets. The years pass by; one falls deeperand deeper into one's own ways, one's own habits, and becomesunconscious of different views, different outlooks. It was a selfishact to take a young thing away from her companions on the eve of asummer holiday. I realise it now, my dear; rather late in the day,perhaps, but not too late! I will arrange that you join your family atthe sea before the end of the week."
Darsie gasped, and sat back on her heels, breathless with surprise anddismay. Yes! dismay; extraordinary though it might appear, no spark ofjoy or expectation lightened the shocked confusion of her mind. We cannever succeed in turning back the wheels of time so as to take up aposition as it would have been if the disturbing element had notoccurred. The holiday visit to the seaside would have been joy untold_if_ Aunt Maria had never appeared and given her unwelcome invitation,but now!--now a return
"If you cannot have what you like, try to like what you have... Putyourself now and then in your aunt's place.--A sacrifice grudginglyperformed is no sacrifice at all... What is worth doing at all, isworth doing well."
Each word condemned her afresh; she stood as judge before the tribunalof her own conscience, and the verdict was in every case the same.Guilty! She had not tried; she had not imagined; everything that shehad done had been done with a grudge; the effort, the forbearance, thecourtesy, had been all on the other side... There fell upon her a panicof shame and fear, a wild longing to begin again, and retrieve hermistakes. She couldn't, she could _not_ be sent away and leave AuntMaria uncheered, unhelped, harassed rather than helped, as the result ofher visit.
"Oh, Aunt Maria," she cried breathlessly, "give me another chance!Don't, don't send me away! I'm sorry, I'm ashamed, I've behavedhorribly, but, I _want_ to stay. Give me another chance, and let mebegin again! Honestly, truly, I'll be good, I'll do all that youwant..."
Lady Hayes stared at her earnestly. There was no mistaking thesincerity of the eager voice, the wide, eloquent eyes, but the poor ladywas plainly puzzled as to what had wrought so speedy a change of front.With her usual deliberation she waited for several moments beforereplying, studying the girl's face with serious eyes.
"My dear, don't imagine that I am thinking of sending you back indisgrace. Not at all. I will take all responsibility upon myself, andexplain to your parents that I have come to the conclusion that it wouldbe a mistake to prolong your visit. It has been very dull for you alonewith an old woman, and I am sure that though you have not alwayssucceeded, you have at least had the intention of making yourselfpleasant and agreeable."
"No!" Darsie shook her bright head in vigorous denial. "I haven't! Ican be fifty times nicer than that, when I really try. Let me stay,Aunt Maria, and you'll see... It's quite true that I was cross atfirst. I hated giving up the holiday with the Vernons, and there seemednothing to do; but I've changed my mind. I didn't know you, you see,and now I do, and I--I would like you to be pleased with me before I_go_! Please, _please_, Aunt Maria, let me stay!"
"Certainly, my dear, I shall be most pleased." Lady Hayes still wore asomewhat puzzled expression, but she was undoubtedly gratified by thegirl's appeal, and Darsie bent forward and kissed her cheek with thefeeling of one who has narrowly escaped a great danger.
"That's settled, and now we are going to live happily ever after!"
"Ah, my dear, I am afraid that is too much to expect! I have noamusements to offer you to relieve the dullness. My health obliges meto live a quiet life, and I have grown to dread change. Of course,there are plenty of books to read--improving, well-written books, verydifferent from the rubbish published to-day. If you would like to havea little reading aloud, or I could give you lessons in knitting andcrochet..."
Darsie laughed, a bright, audacious laugh.
"I wouldn't like it a bit! I've another plan to suggest, fifty timesnicer and more exciting. Suppose,"--she leaned her arms on the oldlady's knee and looked gaily into her spectacled eyes--"suppose, insteadof your trying to make me old with you, _I_ tried, for a time, to makeyou young with _me_? Eh? What do you think? Wouldn't it be far morefun!"
"You ridiculous child!" But Lady Hayes laughed in her turn, and showedno signs of dismay. "That would be too difficult an undertaking evenfor you. To make me young again, ah, Darsie! that's an impossibletask."
"Not a whit more impossible than to make me old!" cried Darsie quickly."Suppose we took turns? That would be only fair. Your day first, whenyou would read aloud dull books with the blinds half down; and then myday, when I'd read funny ones, with the blinds drawn up to the top, andthe sun streaming into the room; your day, when we drove the ordinaryround and came back to lunch; and mine when we went away over the hilland took a picnic basket and drew up at the side of the road, and ateit, and got milk from a cottage and drank it out of cups withoutsaucers! Your night, when we played Patience; and mine when I showedyou tricks and danced figure dances as we do at school. I'm _sure_you'd like to see me dance the Highland fling! Now--now--promise! I_know_ you'll promise. I can see the softening in your eye!"
"Ridiculous child!" protested Lady Hayes once more, but Darsie wasright; there was certainly a softening in her eye which bespoke adisposition to yield. In truth it was not so much of Darsie as ofherself that Lady Hayes was thinking at that moment, for as the youngvoice spoke the old heart quickened with quite an agreeable sense ofexpectation. Years since she had read a "funny book," years since shehad partaken of a picnic meal; years--many, many years since she hadlooked on while a young girl danced! Radical changes and innovations inthe routine of life she could not face at this late day, but Darsie'sgirlish plan attempted nothing so ambitious. Let the child have herway! It would be interesting, undoubtedly interesting, to see how shebehaved.
So Darsie gained her point, and for the next week she and her hostessplayed in turn the part of Mistress of the Ceremonies, to their mutualbenefit and satisfaction.