"He seems extremely tame about the garden."
"Or he would not have fallen on Rachel. It was only a chance; he just brought over a message about that tiresome bazaar that has been dinned into our ears for the last three months. A bazaar for idiots they may well call it! They wanted a carving of yours, Uncle George!"
"I am afraid I gave little Alice Bertie one in a weak moment, Bessie," said Mr. Clare, "but I hardly durst show my face to Lifford afterwards."
"After all, it is better than some bazaars," said Bessie; "it is only for the idiot asylum, and I could not well refuse my name and countenance to my old neighbours, though I stood out against taking a stall. Lord Keith would not have liked it."
"Will he be able to go with you?" asked Alick.
"Oh, no; it would be an intolerable bore, and his Scottish thrift would never stand the sight of people making such very bad bargains! No, I am going to take the Carleton girls in, they are very accommodating, and I can get away whenever I please. I am much too forbearing to ask any of you to go with me, though I believe Uncle George is pining to go and see after his carving."
"No, thank you; after what I heard of the last bazaar I made up my mind that they are no places for an old parson, nor for his carvings either, so you are quite welcome to fall on me for my inconsistency."
"Not now, when you have a holiday from Mr. Lifford," returned Bessie. "Now come and smell the roses."
All the rest of the day Alick relapsed into the lazy frivolous young officer with whom Rachel had first been acquainted.
As he was driving home in the cool fresh summer night, he began--
"I think I must go to this idiotical bazaar!"
"You!" exclaimed Rachel.
"Yes; I don't think Bessie ought to go by herself with all this Carleton crew."
"You don't wish me to go," said Rachel, gulping down the effort.
"You! My dear Rachel, I would not take you for fifty pounds, nor could I go myself without leaving you as vice deputy curate."
"No need for that," said Mr. Clare, from the seat behind; "young people must not talk secrets with a blind man's ears behind them."
"I make no secret," said Alick. "I could not go without leaving my wife to take care of my uncle, or my uncle to take care of my wife."
"And you think you ought to go?" said Mr. Clare. "It is certainly better that Bessie should have a gentleman with her in the crowd; but you know this is a gossiping neighbourhood, and you must be prepared for amazement at your coming into public alone not three weeks after your wedding."
"I can't help it, she can't go, and I must."
"And you will bring down all the morning visitors that you talk of dreading."
"We will leave you to amuse them, sir. Much better that" he added between his teeth, "than to leave the very semblance of a secret trusted by her to that intolerable puppy--"
Rachel said no more, but when she was gone upstairs Mr. Clare detained his nephew to say, "I beg your pardon, Alick, but you should be quite sure that your wife likes this proposal."
"That's the value of a strong-minded wife, sir," returned Alick; "she is not given to making a fuss about small matters."
"Most ladies might not think this a small matter."
"That is because they have no perspective in their brains. Rachel understands me a great deal too well to make me explain what is better unspoken."
"You know what I think, Alick, that you are the strictest judge that ever a merry girl had."
"I had rather you continued to think so, uncle; I should like to think so myself. Good night."
Alick was right, but whether or not Rachel entered into his motives, she made no objection to his going to the bazaar with his sister, being absolutely certain that he would not have done so if he could have helped it.
Nor was her day at all dreary; Mr. Clare was most kind and attentive to her, without being oppressive, and she knew she was useful to him. She was indeed so full of admiration and reverence for him, that once or twice it crossed her whether she were not belying another of her principles by lapsing into Curatocult, but the idea passed away with scorn at the notion of comparing Mr. Clare with the objects of such devotion. He belonged to that generation which gave its choicest in intellectual, as well as in religious gifts to the ministry, when a fresh tide of enthusiasm was impelling men forward to build up, instead of breaking down, before disappointment and suspicion had thinned the ranks, and hurled back many a recruit, or doctrinal carpings had taught men to dread a search into their own tenets. He was a highly cultivated, large-minded man, and the conversation between him and his nephew was a constant novelty to her, who had always yearned after depth and thought, and seldom met with them. Still here she was constantly feeling how shallow were her acquirements, how inaccurate her knowledge, how devoid of force and solidity her reasonings compared with what here seemed to be old, well-beaten ground. Nay, the very sparkle of fun and merriment surprised and puzzled her; and all the courtesy of the one gentleman, and the affection of the other, could not prevent her sometimes feeling herself the dullest and most ignorant person present. And yet the sense was never mortifying except when here and there a apark of the old conceit had lighted itself, and lured her into pretensions where she thought herself proficient. She was becoming more and more helpful to Mr. Clare, and his gratitude for her services made them most agreeable, nor did that atmosphere of peace and sincerity that reigned round the Rectory lose its charm. She was really happy all through the solitary Wednesday, and much more contented with the results than was Alick. "A sickening place," he said, "I am glad I went."
"How glad Bessie must have been to have you!"
"I believe she was. She has too much good taste for much of what went on there."
"I doubt," said Mr. Clare, laughing, "if you could have been an agreeable acquisition."
"I don't know. Bessie fools one into thinking oneself always doing her a favour. Oh, Rachel, I am thankful you have never taken to being agreeable."
CHAPTER XXV. THE HUNTSFORD CROQUET.
"Une femme egoiste, non seulement de coeur, mais d'esprit, ne pent pas sortir d'elle-meme. Le moi est indelible chez elle. Une veritable egoiste ne sait meme pas etre fausse." --MME. E. DE GIRARDIN.
"I am come to prepare you," said Lady Keith, putting her arm into her brother's, and leading him into the peacock path. "Mrs. Huntsford is on her way to call and make a dead set to get you all to a garden party."
"Then we are off to the Earlsworthy Woods."
"Nay, listen, Alick. I have let you alone and defended you for a whole month, but if you persist in shutting up you wife, people won't stand it."
"Which of us is the Mahometan?"
"You are pitied! But you see it was a strong thing our appearing without our several incumbrances, and though an old married woman like me may do as she pleases, yet for a bridegroom of not three weeks' standing to resort to bazaars solus argues some weighty cause."
"And argues rightly."
"Then you are content to be supposed to have an unproduceably eccentric melancholy bride?"
"Better they should think so than that she should be so. She has been victimized enough already to her mother's desire to save appearances."
"You do not half believe me, Alick, and this is really a very kind, thoughtful arrangement of Mrs. Huntsford's. She consulted me, saying there were such odd stories about you two that she was most anxious that Rachel should appear and confute them; and she thought that an out-of-door party like this would suit best, because it would be early, and Rachel could get away if she found it too much for her."
"After being walked out to satisfy a curious neighbourhood."