Mavis scrambled out of the train, just in time to prevent herself from being carried on to the next stopping—place. She smoothed her ruffled plumage and looked about her. She found the station much smaller than she had believed it to be; she hardly remembered any of its features, till the scent of the stocks planted in the station-master's garden assisted her memory. She gave up her ticket, and looked about her, thinking that very likely she would be met, if not by a member of the Devitt family, by some conveyance; but, beyond the station 'bus and two or three farmers' gigs, there was nothing in the nature of cart or carriage. She asked the hobbledehoy, who took her ticket, where Mrs Devitt lived, at which the youth looked at her in a manner that evidently questioned her sanity at being ignorant of such an important person's whereabouts. Mavis repeated her question more sharply than before. The ticket-collector looked at her open—mouthed, glanced up the road and then again to Mavis, before saying:
"Here her be."
"Mrs Devitt?"
"Noa. Her."
"The housekeeper?"
"Noa. The trap. Mebbe your eyes hain't so 'peart' as mine."
The grating of wheels called her attention to the fact that a smart, yellow-wheeled dogcart had been driven into the station yard by a man in livery.
"Be you Miss Keeves, miss?" asked the servant.
"Yes."
"Then you're for Melkbridge House. Please get in, miss."
Mavis clambered into the cart and was driven quickly from the station. At the top of the hill, they turned sharp to the right, and rolled along the Bathminster road. Mavis first noticed how much the town had been added to since she had last set foot in it; then she became conscious that distances, which in her childhood had seemed to be considerable, were now trivial.
The man driving her had been a gentleman's servant; seeing that Mavis belonged to a class of life which he had been accustomed to serve, he treated her with becoming respect. Mavis incorrectly argued from the man's deference that it had been decided to secure her services: her heart leapt, her colour heightened at her good fortune.
If a few moments of pleasure are worth purchasing at a cost of many hours of crowded disappointment, it was as well that Mavis was ignorant of the way in which her prospects had been prejudiced by the trend of events at Melkbridge House since Mrs Devitt had replied to Miss Mee's letter. To begin with, Mavis's visit had been within an ace of being indefinitely postponed; it was owing to Harold's expressed wish that the original appointment had been allowed to stand. The reason for this indifference to Mavis's immediate future was that, the day after the schoolmistress had written, Harold had been seriously indisposed. His symptoms were so alarming that his doctor had insisted on having a further opinion; this was obtained from a Bathminster physician, who had confirmed the local medical man's diagnosis; he had also advised Harold a month's rest on his back, this to be followed by a nine months' residence abroad. As if this were not enough to interfere with Mavis's visit, Montague Devitt had met young Sir Archibald Windebank, the bachelor owner of Haycock. Abbey, when going to discharge his duties as borough magistrate, the performance of which he believed might ease his mind of the pain occasioned by his son's illness.
After he had told Windebank his bad news, and the latter had expressed his genuine concern, Devitt had said:
"Do you remember Keeves—Colonel Keeves?"
"Of Melkbridge Court? Of course. Why?"
"I heard something of his daughter the other day."
"Little Mavis!"
"She's big Mavis now," remarked Devitt.
"Have you seen her?" asked Windebank eagerly.
"Not yet, but I may very soon."
"She promised to be an awfully pretty girl. Is she?"
"I haven't seen her. But if she comes down you might care to call."
"Thanks," replied Windebank. "When you see her, you might mention I asked after her."
"I will."
"Although I don't suppose she'll remember me after all these years."
Devitt had left Windebank and gone about his business. When he came out of the court house, and was about to get into his motor, Windebank again approached him, but in such a manner that made Devitt wonder if he had been hanging about on purpose to speak to him.
Windebank made one or two remarks about nothing in particular. Devitt was about to start, when the other said:
"By the way, when you do see Miss Keeves, you might tell her that the mater and my sister will be down here next week and that they'll be awfully pleased to see her, if she'd care to come and stay."
"I won't forget," replied Devitt dryly.
"Tell her to come for as long as she cares to, as the mater and Celia were always fond of her. None of us could ever make out what became of her."
"I won't forget," said Devitt again.
"Thanks. Good-bye."
Montague told his wife of this; she had replied:
"We will decide nothing till we see her," which meant that, if Mavis had not fulfilled the promise of her childhood, and had grown up plain, there would be some prospect of her being engaged in some capacity in the Devitt family, as her acquaintance with the big people about Melkbridge might result in introducing Victoria within the charmed circle, without prejudicing the latter's chances of making a brilliant match. Mrs Devitt's words likewise meant that, if Mavis were charming or pretty, her prospects of securing an engagement would be of the slenderest.
Mavis, ignorant of these considerations, was driven to the door of Melkbridge House. On getting out of the cart, the front door was opened by Hayter, the fat butler, who showed her into the drawing-room. Left to herself, Mavis looked about the expensively furnished room. Noticing a mirror, she walked to it in order to see if hair or hat had been disarranged by her journey and drive; as she looked at her comely reflection, she could not help seeing with a thrill of satisfaction that already the change of air, together with the excitement of the occasion, had flushed her cheeks with colour; she was looking her best. She walked to the window and looked in the direction of her old home, which was on a slight eminence about a mile from where she stood: were the time of year other than summer, its familiar outlines would not have been obscured by foliage. Mavis sighed, turned her back on the window and walked towards the fireplace; something moving in the cool, carefully shaded room caught her eye. It was the propitiatory wagging of a black, cocker spaniel's tail, while its eyes were looking pleadingly up to her. Mavis loved all animals; in a moment the spaniel was in her lap, her arms were about its neck, and she was pressing her soft, red lips to its head. The dog received these demonstrations of affection with delight; although it pawed and clawed the only decent frock which Mavis possessed, she did not mind a bit.
"I shall be here a long time and we shall always be the best of friends," murmured Mavis, as she pressed the affectionate animal to her heart.
Mavis waited half an hour in the drawing-room before anyone came.
Victoria was the first to join her; she entered the room with a frank smile, together with an apology for having kept Mavis waiting. The latter took to Miss Devitt at once, congratulating herself on her good fortune at the prospect of living with such congenial companions as Miss Devitt and the dog. Victoria explained that her brother's illness was responsible for Mavis having been treated with apparent neglect.
"I am so sorry," replied Mavis. "Is it serious?"
"Not at present, but it may be."
"How dreadful it must be for you, who love him!"
"We are all of us used to seeing my brother more or less ill; he has been a cripple for the last eight years."
"How very sad! But if your brother is worse, why didn't you wire and put me off?"
"You would have been disappointed if we had."
"I should have understood."
Then, after making further sympathetic reference to Harold's condition, Mavis said:
"What a dear dog this is! Is he yours?"
"It's Harold's. She's no business to be in here. She'll dirty your dress."
"I don't mind in the least."
"Let me turn her out," said Victoria, as she rose from her seat.
"Please don't. I love to have her with me," pleaded Mavis, adding, as Victoria acceded to her request:
"Don't you like dogs?"
"In their proper place. Jill wouldn't be allowed in at all if Harold didn't sometimes wish it."
"If I had a house, it should be full of dogs," remarked Mavis.
"I understand that you were born near here."
"Yes, at Melkbridge Court."
"I don't know what time you go back, but, after luncheon—of course you'll stay—you might take the opportunity of your being down here to have a look at the old place."
"I—I might," faltered Mavis, who suddenly felt as if all the happiness had been taken out of her life; for Miss Devitt's words hinted that her family was not going to keep Mavis at Melkbridge House.
She looked regretfully at the dog, then inquiringly at Victoria, when Mrs Devitt came into the drawing-room.
Her eyes at once fell on Mavis's comeliness; looking at her step-daughter, she found herself comparing the appearance of the two girls. Before she had offered her hand to Mavis, she had decided that, beside her, Victoria appeared at a disadvantage.
Although Mavis's hair and colouring might only appeal to a certain order of taste, the girl's distinction, to which one of the Miss Mees had alluded earlier in the day, was glaringly patent to Mrs Devitt's sharp eyes; beside this indefinable personal quality, Mrs Devitt observed with a shudder, Victoria seemed middle-class. Mavis's fate, as far as the Devitts were concerned, was decided in the twinkling of an eye. For all this decision, so suddenly arrived at, Mrs Devitt greeted Mavis kindly; indeed, the friendliness that she displayed caused the girl's hopes to rise.
"Luncheon will be ready directly. We are only waiting for my husband," said Mrs Devitt.
"You must be hungry after your journey," added Victoria.
"I've always a healthy appetite, whatever I do," remarked Mavis, who was fondly regarding the black spaniel.
Then Montague Devitt, Lowther, and Miss Spraggs entered the drawing-room, to all of whom Mavis was introduced.
The men were quite cordial, too cordial to a girl who, after all, was seeking a dependant's place, thought Mrs Devitt.
Already she envied Mavis for her family, the while she despised her for her poverty.
The attentions that her husband and stepson were already paying her were a hint of what Mrs Devitt might expect where the eligible men of her acquaintance were concerned. She felt the necessity of striking a jarring note in the harmony of the proceedings. Jill, the spaniel, who, at that moment, sprang upon Mavis's lap, supplied the means.
"What is Jill doing here?"
"I really don't mind," exclaimed Mavis.
"She shouldn't be in the house. There's no reason for her being here at all, now Harold is ill."
"If you wish her to go," said Mavis ruefully.
Jill was ordered from the room, but refused to quit her new friend's side. Lowther approached the dog; to emphasise his wishes, he kicked her in the side.
Mavis looked up quickly.
"Come along, you brute!" cried Lowther, who seized the spaniel by the ear, and, despite its yell of agony, was carrying it by this means from the room.
Mavis felt the blood rush to her head.
"Stop!" she cried.
Lowther turned to look at her.
"Stop—, please don't," she pleaded, as she went quickly to Jill and caught her in her arms.
Lowther looked down, surprised, into Mavis's pleading, yet defiant face.
"It was all my fault: you're hurting her and she's such a dear," continued Mavis.
"Better let her stay," said Devitt, while Mrs Devitt, seeing the girl's flushed face, recalled the passage in Miss Mee's letter which referred to Mavis's sudden anger.
Mrs Devitt hated a display of emotion; she put down Mavis's interference with Lowther's design to bad form. She was surprised that Lowther and her husband were so assiduous in their attentions to Mavis; indeed, as Mrs Devitt afterwards remarked to Miss Spraggs:
"They hardly ever took their eyes off her face."
"Never trust a man further than you can see him," had remarked the agreeable rattle, who had never had reason to complain of want of respect on the part of any man with whom she may have been temporarily isolated.
"And did you notice how her eyes flashed when she seized Jill from Lowther? They're usually a sort of yellow. Then, as perhaps you saw, they seemed to burst into a fierce glare."
"My dear Hilda, is there anything I don't notice?" Miss Spraggs had replied, a remark which was untrue in its present application, as, at the moment when Mavis had taken Jill's part, Eva Spraggs had been looking out of the window, as she wondered if the peas, that were to accompany a roast duckling at luncheon, would be as hard and as unappetising as they had been when served two days previously.
This was later in the day. Just now, Mavis was about to be taken down to luncheon by Montague Devitt; she wondered if her defence of dear Jill had prejudiced her chance of an engagement.
"What's that picture covered with a shutter for?" asked Mavis, as her eye fell on the padlocked "Etty."
"Oh, well-it's an 'Etty': some people might think it's scarcely the thing for some young people, you know," replied Devitt, as they descended the stairs.
"Really! Is that why it's kept like that?" asked Mavis, who could scarcely conceal her amusement.
Mrs Devitt, who was immediately behind, had detected the note of merriment in Mavis's voice. "Scarcely a pure-minded girl," she said to herself, unconscious of the fact that there is nothing so improper as the thoughts implied by propriety.
It was not a very pleasant time for Mavis. Although the luncheon was a good meal, and served in a manner to which she had been unaccustomed for many years, she did not feel at home with the Devitts. Montague, the head of the house, she disliked least; no one could be long insensible to his goodness of heart. Already, she could not "stand" Lowther, for the reason that he hardly took his eyes from her face. As for the women, she was soon conscious of the social gulf that, in reality, lay between her and them; she was, also, aware that they were inclined to patronise her, particularly Mrs Devitt and Miss Spraggs: the high hopes with which she had commenced the day had already suffered diminution.
"And what are your aims in life?" Miss Spraggs asked presently; she had found the peas to be as succulent as she had wished.
"To earn my own living," replied Mavis, who had seen that it was she to whom the agreeable rattle had spoken.
"But, surely, that doesn't satisfy the young women of today!" continued Miss Spraggs.
"I fear it does me; but then I don't know any young women to be influenced by," answered Mavis.
"I thought every young woman, nowadays, was thirsting with ambition," said Miss Spraggs.
"I suppose everyone, who isn't an idiot, has her preferences," remarked Mavis.
"I don't mean that. I thought every girl was determined on living her own life to the exclusion of everything else," continued Miss Spraggs.
"Really!" asked Mavis in some surprise, as she believed that it was only the plain and unattractive women who were of that complexion of thought.
"Despise marriage and all that," put in Lowther, his eyes on Mavis as he tossed off a glass of wine.
"But I don't despise marriage," protested Mavis.
"Really!" said Mrs Devitt, whose sensibilities were a trifle shocked by this remark.
"If two people are in love with each other, and can afford to marry, it seems a particularly natural proceeding," said Mavis simply.
"One that you would welcome?" asked Miss Spraggs, as she raised her thin eyebrows.
"One that someone else would welcome," put in Devitt gallantly.
But Mavis took no notice of this interruption, as she said:
"Of course. Nothing I should wish for more."
Miss Spraggs made two or three further efforts to take a rise out of Mavis; in each case, such was the younger woman's naturalness and self-possession, that it was the would—be persecutor who appeared at a disadvantage.
After luncheon the womenfolk moved to the drawing room; when Victoria presently went to sit with her invalid brother, Mrs Devitt assumed a business-like manner as she requested Mavis to sit by her. The latter knew that her fate was about to be decided. They sat by the window where, but for the intervening foliage, Mavis would have been able to see her old home.
"This is our best chance of a quiet talk, so I'll come to the point at once," began Mrs Devitt.
"By all means," said Mavis, as Miss Spraggs took up a book and pretended to be interested in its contents.
"How soon do you require a situation?"
"At once."
"Has Miss Mee applied to anyone else in the neighbourhood on your account?"
"Not that I'm aware of."
"And you yourself, have you written to anyone here?"
"There's no one I could write to. There's not one of my father's old friends I've kept up. They've all forgotten my very existence, years ago."
"Sure?"
"Who am I to remember?" asked Mavis simply.
It was on Mrs Devitt's lips to give the girl Sir Archibald's message, but the thought of her unmarried step—daughter restrained her. She addressed Mavis rather hurriedly (she tried hard to act conscientiously):
"I may as well say at once that the opportunity that presented itself, when I wrote to Miss Mee, has passed."
The room seemed to move round Mavis. Mrs Devitt continued, as she noticed the look of dismay on the girl's face:
"But I need hardly tell you that I will do all I can to do something for you."
"Thank you," said Mavis.
"Can't you get anything to do in London?"
"I might."
"Have you tried?"
"A little."
Mavis felt tears welling into her eyes; she would never have forgiven herself if she had displayed the extremity of weeping before these people, who, after all, were not of her social world. She resolved to change the subject and keep any expression of her disappointment till she was safe from unsympathetic eyes.
"Did you know my father?" she asked.
"I didn't live here, then. I married Mr—my husband six years ago."
"I suppose he knew him?"
"I gather so."
Very soon after, the two men came into the drawing-room, having considerably curtailed the time they usually devoted to their cigars.
"We were discussing getting something to do for Miss Keeves," said Mrs Devitt.
"You haven't thought of anything?" asked her husband.
"Not yet," replied his wife.
"I suppose you wouldn't care to go into an office?" he continued.
"A lot of girls do that kind of thing nowadays," said Mavis.
"Or a shop?" put in Miss Spraggs.
Mavis glanced up.
"I mean a—flower shop," corrected Miss Spraggs, misliking the look in Mavis's yellow eyes.
Mavis looked towards where she could have seen her old home but for the intervening trees.
"I think I'd better see about my train," she said as she rose.
"Must you, dear?" asked Mrs Devitt.
The men pressed her to stay, particularly Lowther.
"I think I'll go. I want to get back in good time," said Mavis.
"I'll drive you to the station, if I may," volunteered Lowther.
"Thank you; if it's giving you no trouble," she replied.
Lowther left the room. Mavis said good-bye to the others, including Victoria, who joined her for this purpose, from whom the girl learned that Harold was asleep.
As Devitt conducted Mavis to the door, which the fat butler held open, she heard the snorting of a motor; the next minute, a superb car, driven by Lowther, pulled up before the front door. Mavis had never before been in a petrol-propelled carriage (automobiles were then coming into use); she looked forward to her new experience.
She got in beside Lowther, waved her hand to Devitt and was gone. She was surprised at the swift, easy motion, but had an idea that, soon after they left the house, Lowther Devitt was not travelling so fast as when they set out.
"How delightful!" she cried.
"Eh!"
"I've never been in a motor before."
"What?"
"I really haven't. Don't talk: I want to enjoy it."
Seeing that the girl was disinclined for speech, he increased the pace. Mavis was quite disappointed at the short time it took to reach the station. They got out, when Mavis learned that she had twenty minutes to wait. She was sorry, as she disliked the ardent way in which Lowther looked at her. She answered his remarks in monosyllables.
"I'm afraid you're no end angry with me," he said presently.
"Why?" she said coldly.
"Because I punished Jill for disobedience."
"It was cruel of you."
"I made sure she was worrying you."
"Indeed!"
"But it was almost worth while to upset you, you looked so fine when you were angry."
"Did it frighten you?" she asked half scornfully.
"Almost. You looked just like a young tigress."
"I've been told that before."
"Then you often get angry?"
"If I'm annoyed. But it's soon over."
"I go up to town sometimes," he said presently.
"How clever of you!"
"I go up to my club—the Junior Constitutional. May I look you up when I run up next?"
"Here's the train coming in."
"Bother! It's so nice talking to you. I'm no end of sorry the mater isn't taking you on."
"I am too," replied Mavis, who, at once, saw the meaning that Lowther might misread into her words.
"Can I look you up when next I'm in town?" he asked eagerly.
"Oh yes, you can look me up," she replied diffidently.
"We ought to go out to supper one evening."
"I should be delighted."
"You would! Really you would?"
"If you brought your sister. I must find a seat."
"No hurry. It always waits some time here; milk-cans and all that. By Jove! I wish I were going up alone with you. And that's what I meant. I thought we'd go out to supper at the Savoy or Kettner's by ourselves, eh?"
She looked at him coldly, critically.
"Or say the Carlton," he added, thinking that such munificence might dazzle her.
"I'll get in here," she said.
Seeing Mavis select a third-class carriage, his appreciation of her immediately lessened.
"Tell you what," he said to her through the window, "we won't bother about going out to grub; we'll have a day in the country; we can enjoy ourselves just as much there. Eh, dear? Oh, I beg your pardon, but you're so pretty, you know, and all that."
Mavis noticed the way in which he leered at her while he said these words. She bit her lip in order to restrain the words that were on her tongue; it was of no avail.
"I'll tell you something," she cried.
"Yes—yes; quickly, the train is just off."
"If my father had been alive, and we'd been living here, you'd not have dared to speak to me like that; in fact, you wouldn't have had the chance."
It was a crestfallen, tired, and heartsick Mavis who opened the door of Brandenburg College with her latch-key in the evening. The only thing that sustained her was the memory of the white look of anger which appeared in Lowther Devitt's face when she had unmistakably resented his insult.
All books are sourced from Project Gutenberg