Lancaster's Choice Read online

  "I couldn't think of refusing poor Dick's dying request," was theanswer.

  "Shall you make your home in America?" continued the lady.

  "Oh, no, no; I should come back to dear old England. I couldn't consentto pass my last days in a strange country."

  Lady Lancaster was silent a moment. Her eyes were very thoughtful; herthin lips worked nervously. Mrs. West waited patiently, her plump handsfolded together over the letter that had brought her such strange,unwelcome news. "Where are you going to live when the child comes?"Lady Lancaster snapped, almost rudely.

  "I don't know yet, my lady. I have made no plans. I only received myletter a little while ago."

  "You don't want _my_ advice, I presume?"--more snappishly than ever.

  "I should be very glad of it," Mrs. West replied, respectfully.

  "Why didn't you ask it, then?"

  "I didn't dare."

  "Didn't dare, eh? Am I an ogress? Should I have eaten you if you hadasked my advice?" demanded the irascible old lady, shortly.

  "Oh, no, Lady Lancaster; but I shouldn't have presumed to trouble youso far," Mrs. West replied, in her quiet way that was so strange acontrast to the other's irritability.

  "Very well. I've presumed to lay a plan for you," replied the grim oldlady.

  "A plan for me!" Mrs. West echoed, vaguely.

  "Yes. You shall not go away from Lancaster Park. You shall have thechild here."

  "Here!" cried the housekeeper, doubtful if she were in her propersenses.

  "Why, do you echo my words so stupidly, West?"

  "I beg your pardon. I was doubtful if I understood your words rightly.I thought you disliked children," Mrs. West answered, confusedly.

  "I did, and _do_," tartly. "But, for all that, I had sooner have DickWest's child here than for you to leave me. You could keep her in yourown rooms, couldn't you? I needn't be bothered with her society?"

  "Certainly," faltered Mrs. West, in a tremor of joy. She was very gladthat she was not to leave Lancaster Park, where she had dwelt in peaceand comfort for sixteen years--ever since her faithful, hard-workingJohn had died and left her a lone widow with only fifteen poundsbetween her and the world. She had thought herself a very fortunatewoman when she secured this place, and her heart bounded with joyat the thought that she was to stay on in peace, in spite of theincumbrance of her brother-in-law's orphan child.

  "Oh, Lady Lancaster, I don't know how to thank you!" she cried. "Ishall be very glad not to go away from the Park. I will keep Leonoravery close, indeed I will, if you allow me to bring her here."

  "Well, she shall be brought here. Of course I rely on you to keep herout of my way. I dislike the ways of children," said the hard old lady,who had never had any children herself, and who was an old maid atheart. "That is all I ask of you. Don't have her around under my feet,and I shall never remember that she is here."

  "Thanks, my lady. And when am I to go and fetch my niece?" inquired thehousekeeper, timidly.

  "You're not to fetch her at all. I thought I had told you thatalready," tartly.

  Mrs. West's eyes grew large and round with dismay.

  "Indeed, I thought you said I should have her here," she exclaimed.

  "So I did; I said she should be brought here, but I didn't say youshould go to New York and fetch her home!"

  "But Dick wished me to go," perplexedly; "and how is she to come if Ido not go?"

  "She may come with Lord Lancaster the first of June. I dare say he cango and get her all right."

  "But it seems as if I ought to go myself. Besides, Lord Lancastermightn't like it, indeed," whimpered poor Mrs. West.

  "Fiddlesticks! I do not care whether he likes it or not," declared theoctogenarian, snapping her fingers. "He shall do as I bid him. Aren'tyou willing to trust the brat with him?"

  "Oh, yes, my lady," declared the housekeeper, with a sigh of relief.

  CHAPTER V.

  "I'll be shot!" ejaculated Captain Lancaster, in a voice of theliveliest exasperation.

  "Oh, no; what have you done?" exclaimed his chum, lifting his handsomehead from his lounge amid a cloud of curling, blue cigar-smoke.

  "Nothing; I never did anything in my life," in an injured tone, "and Iam fain to ask why I am so bitterly persecuted."

  "Persecuted?" inquired De Vere, languidly.

  "Oh, yes, you can afford to be cool. You are the legal heir to tenthousand a year. You are not at the beck and call of a relative whogives you the most troublesome commissions to execute without so muchas saying 'by your leave,'" growled Lancaster.

  The young lieutenant laughed lazily.

  "You have had a letter from my lady?" he said.

  "Yes. Look here, De Vere, I wonder if she thinks I belong to herwholly? Must one be a white slave for the sake of coming into twentythousand a year?"

  "It is worth lots of toadying," declared De Vere, emphatically.

  "I used to like Aunt Lydia--rather--before my uncle died," saidLancaster, reflectively. "She was always tart and waspish. I didn'tcare for it when I didn't have to bear the brunt of it. She ratheramused me then, but now I get out of patience with her whims andexactions."

  "What is it she wants now?" asked Harry De Vere, lazily.

  "It is something I have to carry home to her from New York. By Jove!I have a great mind to refuse. Anything in reason I would willinglyundertake; but, ah, really, this is too bad!" groaned the victim,dropping his head back among the cushions of his chair.

  It was a handsome head, crowned with short, crisp masses of fair hair,and he was a blue-eyed young giant with the perfect features of anAntinous, and a smile that dazzled one when it played around the fullred lips half veiled by the drooping ends of the long, fair mustache.He had an indolent air that was not unbecoming to him, but rathertaking than otherwise. He did not look like a man who would overexerthimself for anything, and yet the air might have been cultivated andnot natural.

  "I did not know that there was anything on this side of the'herring-pond' her ladyship would deign to accept," said De Vere.

  "There isn't. She has a horror of everything American."

  "Then why--what?" inquired the other, perplexedly, and CaptainLancaster's moody brow cleared a moment, and he laughed merrily at hisfriend's amazed air.

  "Give it up, Harry. You couldn't guess in a month," he said.

  "I give it up," resignedly.

  "It's a female," said Lancaster, lifting his head to note the effect onhis inferior officer.

  It was startling. The hands that were clasped behind the lieutenant'shead relaxed suddenly, and he sat bolt upright on his sofa, his browneyes distended to their greatest size, his whole air indicative of thegreatest astonishment.

  "By George! You don't say so?" he ejaculated.

  Lancaster relaxed from his perturbation to laugh at his startledhearer. "It's astonishing what an effect the mere mention of the femalesex has upon you, De Vere," he observed.

  "Well, you did take my breath away. I confess myself astonished. Who isthe female, Lancaster? Not," catching his breath excitedly, "the chosenfair?--the fatal she who is to out-captain the captain himself, andlead him captive to the hymeneal altar?"

  "Pshaw!" disgustedly, "how you run on! Of course it is nothing of thesort. Could one come out of New York that would please my august aunt?"

  "'Can any good come out of Nazareth?'" quoted the lieutenant, lightly."But I say, Lancaster, you have excited my curiosity to the highestpitch. Who is the female? Am I to be associated with you in the care ofher?"

  "I will hand over to you the whole charge, if you wish," said thecaptain, with the same disgusted air.

  "_Cela d?pend._ Is she young and fair? I have found New York girlsrather fascinating, usually," said De Vere, recalling sundryflirtations by the light of a chandelier, with nobody very near.

  "Young? yes--very young, I should say," growled the captain,sardonically. "But not to keep you any longer in suspense, listen tothis portion of my dear aunt's epistle:

  "'The
re is a small commission I wish you to execute for me, Clive. My housekeeper's brother has died in New York and left her a little girl to take care of. I can not spare Mrs. West long enough for her to go after the child; and, in fact, I don't think it would be safe for her to go, anyhow. She is so simple, poor woman, she would be quite lost in the wilderness of New York, and might be devoured by the bulls and bears that I hear infest the place. So I want you to bring the child to England with you. I dare say she will not be much trouble. I inclose a card with her name and New York address. You are to go there and get little Leo and bring her to her aunt. Now, do not upon any account forget the child, Clive, for West would be ready to die of chagrin if you did not bring the little brat to her the first of June.'"

  He paused and looked at his friend in comical anger.

  "Did you ever hear of anything so deucedly cool in your life?" he said.

  "No, I never did. It is most outrageous. What shall you do?"

  "Advise me, please. Shall I rebel against my tormentor's mandate andrefuse point-blank?"

  "No, never. Rather meet the peril boldly and vanquish it. Walk boldlyup to the cannon's mouth. In other words, accept the small commission."

  "Small commission, indeed!" groaned the wretched victim. "What shall Ido with a child--a girl-child, too--perhaps a baby?"

  "That would be the best of all. You need have no trouble then. Onlyprovide a nurse, a sucking-bottle, and some cans of condensed milk, putthem aboard with the baby, and all your trouble is over," suggestedthe lieutenant.

  "Is it so easy as that? Well, perhaps it is a baby. She calls it agirl, a little child. Yes, I have no doubt it is a baby. Well, when weleave Boston we will go over to New York and see about the nurse andthe bottles," sighed Lancaster.

  CHAPTER VI.

  Captain Lancaster and his friend, having brought letters ofintroduction from England, were having rather a nice time in thecultured and ?sthetic circles of Boston. They had made the grandtour of the States, lingering at the last in the beautiful citywhere they had made some very pleasant acquaintances, and where, aseligibles of the first water, they were f?ted and courted in the mostflattering manner by the fashionable people of the place. It is truethat Lieutenant De Vere sometimes declared that he found New York morecharming, but still he lingered, loath to go, and it was two weeksafter the reception of Lady Lancaster's letter before they turned theirfaces toward the city that held the child that was to go to Englandwith them--the baby, as they had quite decided in their own minds itmust be.

  There are a few people who, when they have a disagreeable task toperform, go bravely forward and get it over. There are a great manymore who shirk such things and put them off till the last moment.Captain Lancaster belonged to the latter class. He was intensely afraidof disagreeables. He revolted exceedingly from the idea of "thatsqualling baby" he had to carry to England. He thought that Mrs. Westshould come after it herself. Yet Captain Lancaster was not a bad andselfish man, as one might have supposed from his reluctance to do thiskindness. The whole gist of the matter lay in the fact that his aunthad so cavalierly ordered him to do it. He chafed beneath the plainlyvisible fact that she meant to lead him by the nose as long as shelived, in virtue of the money she was going to leave him when she died.

  So our hero mentally kicked against taking home the orphan child,and all unconsciously to himself directed a part of his vexation athis aunt against the little one. The mention of it was exceedinglydistasteful to him, and when Lieutenant De Vere once or twicerepresented to him that he "ought to go and see about Leonora Westbefore the last day," he invariably replied: "My dear friend, it isone of my rules never to do anything to-day that I can put off untilto-morrow."

  So it was actually the day before they sailed when Lancaster hunted upthe address and went to look after his charge, his "small commission,"as Lady Lancaster had blandly termed it. He went alone, for when DeVere offered to accompany him he shook his head and replied, decidedly,"No, I will not trouble you, for I can get over disagreeable thingsbest alone."

  So he went alone, and the address took him to a quiet, genteelboarding-house, in a quiet but highly respectable street. He rang thebell impatiently, and a smart female servant opened the door, smilingand bridling at the sight of the big, handsome young aristocrat.

  "I have called to see about little Miss West. Is she here?" he inquired.

  "Oh, Lor', yes sir!" she replied. "Please to walk into the parlor, andI'll take your card."

  He handed her the small bit of pasteboard with his military title,"Captain Lancaster," simply engraved upon it, and said, abruptly:

  "Send Miss West's nurse to me as soon as possible, please. I am in ahurry. We must sail for England to-morrow."

  She gazed at him a little stupidly. "The nurse!" she echoed.

  "Yes, the baby's nurse. Of course I must see her and make arrangementsfor our voyage," he replied; and the girl hastily retreated, and hecaught the echo of a suppressed titter outside the door.

  "American rudeness and freedom," he said to himself, disgustedly, ashe walked up and down the limits of the pretty little parlor with itsBrussels carpet, lace curtains, and open piano. "What did she see togiggle at, I wonder?"

  And he glanced carelessly at his own elegant reflection in thelong, swinging mirror, and felt complacently that there was nothingmirth-provoking there. From the top of his fair, handsome head to thetoe of his shining boot all was elegant and irreproachable.

  "Now, how long is that nurse going to make me wait? I hope, uponmy soul, she won't bring that horrid young one in to display itsperfections. I can well dispense with the pleasure," he said tohimself, grimly, and he then turned hurriedly around at a sudden sound.

  The door had opened softly, and a young girl, clad in deep, lusterlessmourning apparel, had entered the parlor.

  CHAPTER VII.

  Captain Lancaster was taken at a disadvantage. He was not at all avain man. He did not half know how fine looking he was, and his hastyperusal of the mirror was directed rather to his dress than his face.But as he turned about hastily and met the half smile on the lips ofthe new-comer, he realized instantly that his attitude had favoredstrongly of masculine vanity, and a not unbecoming flush mounted to hisgood-looking, straight-featured face. He had a sneaking sense of shamein being caught posing, as it were, before the mirror by this extremelypretty girl.

  She was more than pretty, this girl--she was rarely beautiful. She wasof medium height and size, and her figure was symmetry itself, all itsdelicious curves and slender outlines defined at their best by theclose-fitting black jersey waist she wore buttoned up to the gracefulwhite throat that had a trick of holding itself high, as if innocentlyproud of the fair face that shone above it--the face that CaptainLancaster gazed at in wonder for a moment, and then in the most livelyand decided disapprobation.

  For she was much too pretty to be a nurse, he said to himself--toopretty and too young. She had an air of refinement quite above herposition. She had an arch, pretty face, with beautiful blue-gray eyesthat were almost black when the full white lids and dark lashes droopedover them. The dazzling fairness of her complexion was heightened bythe unrelieved blackness of her dress, and her pouting lips by contrastlooked like rosebuds. Two long, thick braids of lovely chestnut-brownhair hung down her back, and some soft, fluffy rings of the same colorwaved over the low, broad forehead with its slender, dark brows. Shewas not only beautiful, she looked bright and intelligent, and the halfsmile that parted her red lips now made her wonderfully lovely.

  But pretty as she was, she was aware that Captain Lancasterwas regarding her with knit brows and a general air of entiredisapprobation. Perhaps it was a novel experience. It seemed to amuseher. The dimples deepened around the sweet, arch mouth. She lookeddown at the card in her hand, and began to read it aloud in a soft,hesitating, inquiring voice: "Cap-tain Lan-caster?"

  "Yes," he replied, and was on the point of making his most elegantbow when he suddenly remembered that it was not at all necessary tobe
so ceremonious with the nurse of his housekeeper's niece. So hestraightened himself up again and said, almost tartly:

  "You are the baby's nurse, I presume?"

  The long fringe of the girl's lashes lifted a moment, and she flashed adazzling glance into his face.

  "The--baby?" she inquired.

  "Yes--the little Miss West--the child that is to get to England undermy care. Aren't you her nurse?"

  The young lady had put a very small, white hand up to her face andcoughed very hard for a moment. She looked at him the next moment, veryred in the face from the exertion.

  "I--ah, yes, certainly; I'm the nurse," she replied, demurely.

  And then ensued a moment's silence, broken at last by the girl, whosaid, quietly and politely:

  "Won't you be seated, Captain Lancaster?"

  He dropped mechanically into a chair near him, but the prettynurse-maid remained standing meekly in the center of the room, hersmall hands folded before her, a demure look on her fair face.

  The caller cleared his throat and began, rather nervously:

  "It isn't possible that you expected to go to England as that child'snurse?" he said.

  "I had hoped to do so," answered the girl, with a sudden air of chagrin.

  "But--ah--really, you know, you're too young, aren't you?" stammeredLancaster, feeling abashed, he knew not why, but maintaining a grave,judicial air.

  "Too young? I should hope not. I was eighteen last week," lifting thesmall head with an air of great dignity.