A Fair Barbarian Read online

  CHAPTER XI.

  A SLIGHT INDISCRETION.

  During the remainder of the evening, Miss Belinda was a prey towretchedness and despair. When she raised her eyes to her hostess, shemet with a glance full of icy significance; when she looked across thetea-table, she saw Octavia seated next to Mr. Francis Barold,monopolizing his attention, and apparently in the very best possiblespirits. It only made matters worse, that Mr. Francis Barold seemed tofind her remarks worthy of his attention. He drank very little tea, andnow and then appeared much interested and amused. In fact, he found MissOctavia even more entertaining than he had found her during theirjourney. She did not hesitate at all to tell him that she was delightedto see him again at this particular juncture.

  "You don't know how glad I was to see you come in," she said.

  She met his rather startled glance with the most open candor as shespoke.

  "It is very civil of you to say so," he said; "but you can hardly expectme to believe it, you know. It is too good to be true."

  "I thought it was too good to be true when the door opened," she answeredcheerfully. "I should have been glad to see _anybody_, almost"--

  "Well, that," he interposed, "isn't quite so civil."

  "It is not quite so civil to"--

  But there she checked herself, and asked him a question with the most_naive_ seriousness.

  "Are you a great friend of Lady Theobald's?" she said.

  "No," he answered. "I am a relative."

  "That's worse," she remarked.

  "It is," he replied. "Very much worse."

  "I asked you," she proceeded, with an entrancing little smile ofirreverent approval, "because I was going to say that my last speech wasnot quite so civil to Lady Theobald."

  "That is perfectly true," he responded. "It wasn't civil to her at all."

  He was passing his time very comfortably, and was really surprised tofeel that he was more interested in these simple audacities than he hadbeen in any conversation for some time. Perhaps it was because hiscompanion was so wonderfully pretty, but it is not unlikely that therewere also other reasons. She looked him straight in the eyes, shecomported herself after the manner of a young lady who was enjoyingherself, and yet he felt vaguely that she might have enjoyed herselfquite as much with Burmistone, and that it was probable that she wouldnot think a second time of him, or of what she said to him.

  After tea, when they returned to the drawing-room, the opportunitiesafforded for conversation were not numerous. The piano was opened, andone after another of the young ladies were invited to exhibit theirprowess. Upon its musical education Slowbridge prided itself. "Fewtowns," Miss Pilcher frequently remarked, "could be congratulated uponthe possession of _such_ talent and _such_ cultivation." The MissesEgerton played a duet, the Misses Loftus sang, Miss Abercrombie"executed" a sonata with such effect as to melt Miss Pilcher to tears;and still Octavia had not been called upon. There might have been areason for this, or there might not; but the moment arrived, at length,when Lady Theobald moved toward Miss Belinda with evidently fell intent.

  "Perhaps," she said, "perhaps your niece, Miss Octavia, will favor us."

  Miss Belinda replied in a deprecatory and uncertain murmur.

  "I--am not sure. I really don't know. Perhaps--Octavia, my dear."

  Octavia raised a smiling face.

  "I don't play," she said. "I never learned."

  "You do not play!" exclaimed Lady Theobald. "You do not play at all!"

  "No," answered Octavia. "Not a note. And I think I am rather glad of it;because, if I tried, I should be sure to do it worse than other people. Iwould rather," with unimpaired cheerfulness, "let some one else do it."

  There were a few seconds of dead silence. A dozen people seated aroundher had heard. Miss Pilcher shuddered; Miss Belinda looked down; Mr.Francis Barold preserved an entirely unmoved countenance, the generalimpression being that he was very much shocked, and concealed his disgustwith an effort.

  "My dear," said Lady Theobald, with an air of much condescension and somegrave pity, "I should advise you to try to learn. I can assure you thatyou would find it a great source of pleasure."

  "If you could assure me that my friends would find it a great source ofpleasure, I might begin," answered the mistaken young person, stillcheerfully; "but I am afraid they wouldn't."

  It seemed that fate had marked her for disgrace. In half an hour fromthat time she capped the climax of her indiscretions.

  The evening being warm, the French windows had been left open; and, inpassing one of them, she stopped a moment to look out at the brightlymoonlit grounds.

  Barold, who was with her, paused too.

  "Looks rather nice, doesn't it?" he said.

  "Yes," she replied. "Suppose we go out on the terrace."

  He laughed in an amused fashion she did not understand.

  "Suppose we do," he said. "By Jove, that's a good idea!"

  He laughed as he followed her.

  "What amuses you so?" she inquired.

  "Oh!" he replied, "I am merely thinking of Lady Theobald."

  "Well," she commented, "I think it's rather disrespectful in you tolaugh. Isn't it a lovely night? I didn't think you had such moonlightnights in England. What a night for a drive!"

  "Is that one of the things you do in America--drive by moonlight?"

  "Yes. Do you mean to say you don't do it in England?"

  "Not often. Is it young ladies who drive by moonlight in America?"

  "Well, you don't suppose they go alone, do you?" quite ironically. "Ofcourse they have some one with them."

  "Ah! Their papas?"

  "No."

  "Their mammas?"

  "No."

  "Their governesses, their uncles, their aunts?"

  "No," with a little smile.

  He smiled also.

  "That is another good idea," he said. "You have a great many nice ideasin America."

  She was silent a moment or so, swinging her fan slowly to and fro by itsribbon, and appearing to reflect.

  "Does that mean," she said at length, "that it wouldn't be consideredproper in England?"

  "I hope you won't hold me responsible for English fallacies," was hissole answer.

  "I don't hold anybody responsible for them," she returned with somespirit. "I don't care one thing about them."

  "That is fortunate," he commented. "I am happy to say I don't, either. Itake the liberty of pleasing myself. I find it pays best."

  "Perhaps," she said, returning to the charge, "perhaps Lady Theobald willthink _this_ is improper."

  He put his hand up, and stroked his mustache lightly, without replying.

  "But it is _not_," she added emphatically: "it is _not!_"

  "No," he admitted, with a touch of irony, "it is not!"

  "Are _you_ any the worse for it?" she demanded.

  "Well, really, I think not--as yet," he replied.

  "Then we won't go in," she said, the smile returning to her lips again.