"Looking on has always been my trade."
"You heard the rehearsal of the masque, I believe, but you did not hear that charming Mona?"
"No; she had to take the part suddenly. Her uncle had to tyrannize over her, to save the whole thing."
"We are much indebted to him, and to her," said Lord Rotherwood courteously. "She looked as if she hated it all in the first scene, though she warmed up afterwards. I must say I liked her the better for her shyness."
"Her little brother thinks she recovered in consequence of his applause," said Geraldine, smiling.
"Ah! I saw him. And heard. A little square fellow-very sturdy."
"Yes, the Dutchman comes out in him, and he has droll similitudes, very curious in one who never saw his father, nor any but his Underwood relations."
"So much the better for him perhaps; I have, and ought to have, great faith in uncles' breeding. I am glad to meet Sir Ferdinand Travis Underwood. I have often come across him about London good works."
"Yes, he is an excellent man."
"Not wholly English is he, judging by the depth of colour in those eyes?"
"No; his mother was a Mexican, partly Indian. We used to call him the Cacique;" and Geraldine had the pleasure of telling his story to an earnest listener, but interruption came in the shape of Sir Ferdinand himself who announced that he had hired a steam-yacht wherein to view the regatta, and begged Lord Rotherwood to join the party.
This was impossible, as the Marquis was due at an agricultural dinner at Clarebridge, but in return, in the openness of his heart, he invited the Travis Underwoods to their dinner that evening at the hotel, where the Merrifields and the Underwoods were already engaged, little boys and all.
"Thank you, my lord, but we are too large a party. We have three Vanderkist girls with us, and Anna and her brother are to join them to be with their sister."
"Never mind, never mind. The great hall will have room for all."
Still Fernan demurred, knowing that Marilda had ordered dinner at the Quay Hotel, and that even liberal payment would not atone for missing the feasting of the millionaires; so the matter was compounded by his promise to bring all his party, who were not ready for bed, up to spend the evening.
And Geraldine perceived from Lady Rotherwood's ceremonious politeness that she did not like it at all, though she never said so even to Lady Merrifield.
However, it was a very bright evening. Gerald had sung himself into spirits, and then found Dolores, and retreated into the depths of the garden with her, explaining to her all about his sister, and declaring that his first object must be to rescue her; and then, unless his name was cleared, and he had to resume all his obligations, the new life would be open to him, and he had no fear of not succeeding as a journalist, or if not, a musical career was possible to him, as Dolores had now the opportunity of fully perceiving. His sweet voice had indeed filled her with double enthusiasm. She had her plan for lecturing, and that very morning she had received from her father permission to enter a ladies' college, and the wherewithal. She would qualify herself for lecturing by the time he had fixed his career; and they built their airy castles, not on earth, but on railroads and cycles, and revelled on them as happily as is common to lovers, whether in castle or in cottage. Certainly if the prospect held out to her had been Vale Leston Priory, it would not have had the same zest; and when in the evening they joined the dinner-party, there was a wonderful look of purpose and of brightness on both their faces. And Emilia, who had been looking for him all the afternoon to tell him, "Gerald, I am really going to be a nurse," only got for answer an absent "Indeed!"
"Yes, at St. Roque's."
"I hope I shall never be a patient there," he said, in his half- mocking tone. "You'll look jolly in the cap and apron."
"I'm to be there all the time they are in America, and-"
"Well, I wonder you don't go and study the institutions."
"But, Gerald-"
His eye was wandering, and he sprang forward to give Dolores a flower that she had dropped.
Lancelot, knowing what was before Gerald, and having always regarded Vale Leston with something of the honours of Paradise, could not understand that joyous look of life, so unlike Gerald's usual weary, passive expression. He himself felt something of the depression that was apt to follow on musical enjoyment; he saw all the failures decidedly enough not to be gratified with the compliments he met on all sides, and "he bitterly thought on the morrow," when he saw how Clement was getting animated over a discussion on Church matters, and how Geraldine was enjoying herself. And as to that pretty Franceska, who had blossomed into the flower of the flock, he foresaw heart- break for her when he watched the Marchioness's countenance on hearing that her son had accepted Sir Ferdinand's invitation to cruise to-morrow in the yacht.
Vainly was Ivinghoe reminded of the agricultural dinner. He was only too glad to escape it, and besides, he thought he could be there in time.
Nevertheless, the present was delightful, and after dinner the young people all went off to the great assembly-room, whence Anna came back to coax Uncle Lance to play for them. All the elders jumped up from their several discussions. Even Lady Rotherwood moved on, looking as benign as her feelings would permit. Jane squeezed Geraldine's arm, exceedingly amused. Lance struck up, by request, an old-fashioned country dance; Lord Rotherwood insisted that "Lily" should dance with him, as the remnant of forty good years ago or more, and with Sir Roger de Coverley the day ended.
Poor little Maura, making an excuse to wander about the gardens in the moonlight, saw the golden locks shining through the open windows, and Lord Ivinghoe standing over them, went home, and cried herself to sleep over the fickleness of the nobility, when she had better have cried over her own unjustified romance, excited by a few kindly speeches and a cup of tea.
And Emilia! What was Gerald's one laughing turn with her, compared with his long talk with Dolores in the moonlight?
CHAPTER XXII. THE REGATTA
She saw a forget-me-not in the grass, Gilly-flower, gentle rosemary, Ah! why did the lady that little flower pass, While the dews fell over the mulberry-tree? KENEALY.
Such of the party as were not wanted for the second day of the bazaar, and were not afraid of mal de mer, had accepted the yachting invitation, except the three elders at St. Andrew's Rock. Even Adrian and Felix were suffered to go, under Sophy's charge, on the promise to go nowhere without express permission, and not to be troublesome to any one.
"Sophy can say, 'Now, boys,' as effectively as Wilmet," said Geraldine, when she met Lance, who had been to the quay to see them off.
"She did not say so to much advantage with her own boys," said Clement.
"We weren't Harewoods," returned Lance, "and John never could bear to see a tight hand over them; but there's good in them that will come out some day."
Clement gave an emphatic "Humph!" as he sat down to the second breakfast after Anna had gone to the cliff to resume her toils.
"Who are gone?" asked Geraldine.
"Poor Marilda, smilingly declaring she shall be in misery in the cabin all the time, Fernan, and four Vanderkists, General Mohun, Sir Jasper, and some of his progeny; but others stay to help Miss Mohun finish up the sales."
"Does Lord Ivinghoe go?"
"Oh yes, he came rushing down just in time. Francie was looking like a morning rose off the cloister at Vale Leston."
"I am sorry they have another day of it. I don't see how it can come to good," said Geraldine.
"Perhaps her roses may fade at sea," said Clement, "and disenchantment may ensue."
"At least I hope Alda may not hear of it, or she will be in an agony of expectation as long as hope lasts. Gerald is gone, of course?"