Lady Connie Read online

  LADY CONNIE

  by

  MRS. HUMPHRY WARD

  Author of "Eltham House," "Delia Blanchflower," etc.

  Illustrated by Albert Sterner

  1916

  _There Connie found Nora's latest statement headed"List of Liabilities"_]

  [Illustration (decorative)]

  CONTENTS

  PART I

  CHAPTER I II III IV V VI VII VIII IX X

  PART II

  XI XII XIII XIV XV

  PART III

  XVI XVIIXVIII XIX

  LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

  There Connie found Nora's latest statement headed "List of Liabilities" (Frontispiece)

  Constance sat in the shadow of a plane-tree with Falloden at her feet

  The tea-party at Mrs. Hooper's

  Lady Connie had stood entranced by the playing of Radowitz

  Connie sat down beside Radowitz and they looked at each other in silence

  Lady Connie held in her horse, feeding her eyes upon Flood Castle and its woods

  Herr Schwarz was examining a picture with a magnifying glass when Falloden entered

  Douglas knelt, looking into his father's face, and Radowitz moved farther away

  PART I

  CHAPTER I

  "Well, now we've done all we can, and all I mean to do," said AliceHooper, with a pettish accent of fatigue. "Everything's perfectlycomfortable, and if she doesn't like it, we can't help it. I don't knowwhy we make such a fuss."

  The speaker threw herself with a gesture of fatigue into a dilapidatedbasket-chair that offered itself. It was a spring day, and the windowsof the old schoolroom in which she and her sister were sitting were opento a back garden, untidily kept, but full of fruit-trees just cominginto blossom. Through their twinkling buds and interlacing branchescould be seen grey college walls--part of the famous garden front of St.Cyprian's College, Oxford. There seemed to be a slight bluish mist overthe garden and the building, a mist starred with patches of white anddazzlingly green leaf. And, above all, there was an evening sky,peaceful and luminous, from which a light wind blew towards the twogirls sitting by the open window. One, the elder, had a face like aWatteau sketch, with black velvety eyes, hair drawn back from a whiteforehead, delicate little mouth, with sharp indentations at the corners,and a small chin. The other was much more solidly built--a girl ofseventeen, in a plump phase, which however an intelligent eye would haveread as not likely to last; a complexion of red and brown tanned byexercise; an expression in her clear eyes which was alternately frankand ironic; and an inconvenient mass of golden brown hair.

  "We make a fuss, my dear," said the younger sister, "because we're boundto make a fuss. Connie, I understand, is to pay us a good round sum forher board and lodging, so it's only honest she should have adecent room."

  "Yes, but you don't know what she'll call decent," said the other rathersulkily. "She's probably been used to all sorts of silly luxuries."

  "Why of course, considering Uncle Risborough was supposed to havetwenty-odd thousand a year. We're paupers, and she's got to put up withus. But we couldn't take her money and do nothing in return."

  Nora Hooper looked rather sharply at her sister. It fell to her in thefamily to be constantly upholding the small daily traditions of honestyand fair play. It was she who championed the servants, or insisted,young as she was, on bills being paid, when it would have been moreagreeable to buy frocks and go to London for a theatre. She was a greatpower in the house, and both her languid, incompetent mother, and herpretty sister were often afraid of her. Nora was a "Home Student," andhad just begun to work seriously for English Literature Honours. Aliceon the other hand was the domestic and social daughter. She helped hermother in the house, had a head full of undergraduates, and regarded the"Eights" week and Commemoration as the shining events of the year.

  Both girls were however at one in the uneasy or excited anticipationwith which they were looking forward that evening to the arrival of anewcomer, who was, it seemed, to make part of the household for sometime. Their father, Dr. Ewen Hooper, the holder of a recently foundedclassical readership, had once possessed a younger sister ofconsiderable beauty, who, in the course of an independent andadventurous career, had captured--by no ignoble arts--a widower, whohappened to be also an earl and a rich man. It happened while they wereboth wintering at Florence, the girl working at paleography, in theAmbrosian Library, while Lord Risborough, occupying a villa in theneighbourhood of the Torre San Gallo, was giving himself to the artisticresearches and the cosmopolitan society which suited his health and histastes. He was a dilettante of the old sort, incurably in love withliving, in spite of the loss of his wife, and his only son; in spitealso of an impaired heart--in the physical sense--and various otherdrawbacks. He came across the bright girl student, discovered that shecould talk very creditably about manuscripts and illuminations, gave herleave to work in his own library, where he possessed a few pricelessthings, and presently found her company, her soft voice, and her eager,confiding eyes quite indispensable. His elderly sister, Lady Winifred,who kept house for him, frowned on the business in vain; and finallydeparted in a huff to join another maiden sister, Lady Marcia, in anEnglish country _menage_, where for some years she did little but lamentthe flesh-pots of Italy--Florence. The married sister, Lady Langmoor,wrote reams of plaintive remonstrances, which remained unanswered.Lord Risborough married the girl student, Ella Hooper, andnever regretted it. They had one daughter, to whom they devotedthemselves--preposterously, their friends thought; but for twenty years,they were three happy people together. Then virulent influenza,complicated with pneumonia, carried off the mother during a spring visitto Rome, and six weeks later Lord Risborough died of the damaged heartwhich had held out so long.

  The daughter, Lady Constance Bledlow, had been herself attacked by theinfluenza epidemic which had killed her mother, and the double blow ofher parents' deaths, coming on a neurasthenic condition, had hit heryouth rather hard. Some old friends in Rome, with the full consent ofher guardian, the Oxford Reader, had carried her off, first toSwitzerland, and then to the Riviera for the winter, and now in May,about a year after the death of her parents, she was coming for thefirst time to make acquaintance with the Hooper family, with whom,according to her father's will, she was to make her home till she wastwenty-one. None of them had ever seen her, except on two occasions;once, at a hotel in London; and once, some ten years before this date,when Lord Risborough had been D.C.L-ed at the Encaenia, as a reward forsome valuable gifts which he had made to the Bodleian, and he, his wife,and his little girl, after they had duly appeared at the All Souls'luncheon, and the official fete in St. John's Gardens, had found theirway to the house in Holywell, and taken tea with the Hoopers.

  Nora's mind, as she and her sister sat waiting for the fly in which Mrs.Hooper had gone to meet her husband's niece at the station, ranpersistently on her own childish recollections of this visit. She sat inthe window-sill, with her hand behind her, chattering to her sister.

  "I remember thinking when Connie came in here to tea with us--'What astuck-up thing you are!' And I despised her, because she couldn't climbthe mulberry in the garden, and because she hadn't begun Latin. But allthe time, I envied her horribly, and I expect you did too, Alice. Can'tyou see her black silk stockings--and her new hat with those awfullypretty flowers, made of feathers? She had a silk frock too--white, veryskimp, and short; and enormously long black legs, as thin as sticks; andher hair in plaits. I felt a thick lump beside her. And I didn't likeher at all. What horrid toads children are! She didn't talk to us much,but her eyes seemed to be always laughing at us, and when she talkedItalian to her mother, I thought she was showing off, and I wanted topinch her for being affected."

  "Why,
of course she talked Italian," said Alice, who was not muchinterested in her sister's recollections.

  "Naturally. But that didn't somehow occur to me. After all I was onlyseven."

  "I wonder if she's really good-looking," said Alice slowly, glancing, asshe spoke, at the reflection of herself in an old dilapidated mirror,which hung on the schoolroom wall.

  "The photos are," said Nora decidedly. "Goodness, I wish she'd come andget it over. I want to get back to my work--and till she comes, I can'tsettle to anything."

  "Well, they'll be here directly. I wonder what on earth she'll do withall her money. Father says she may spend it, if she wants to. He'strustee, but Uncle Risborough's letter to him said she was to have theincome if she wished--_now_. Only she's not to touch the capital tillshe's twenty-five."

  "It's a good lot, isn't it?" said Nora, walking about. "I wonder howmany people in Oxford have two thousand a year? A girl too. It's reallyrather exciting."

  "It won't be very nice for us--she'll be so different." Alice's tone wasa little sulky and depressed. The advent of this girl cousin, with hertitle, her good looks, her money, and her unfair advantages in the wayof talking French and Italian, was only moderately pleasant to theeldest Miss Hooper.

  "What--you think she'll snuff us out?" laughed Nora. "Not she! Oxford'snot like London. People are not such snobs."

  "What a silly thing to say, Nora! As if it wasn't an enormous pulleverywhere to have a handle to your name, and lots of money!"

  "Well, I really think it'll matter less here than anywhere. Oxford, mydear--or some of it--pursues 'the good and the beautiful'"--said Nora,taking a flying leap on to the window-sill again, and beginning to pokeup some tadpoles in a jar, which stood on the window-ledge.

  Alice did not think it worth while to continue the conversation. She hadlittle or nothing of Nora's belief in the other-worldliness of Oxford.At this period, some thirty odd years ago, the invasion of Oxford on thenorth by whole new tribes of citizens had already begun. The old days ofUniversity exclusiveness in a ring fence were long done with; the daysof much learning and simple ways, when there were only two carriages inOxford that were not doctors' carriages, when the wives of professorsand tutors went out to dinner in "chairs" drawn by men, and no personwithin the magic circle of the University knew anybody--to speak of--inthe town outside. The University indeed, at this later moment, stillmore than held its own, socially, amid the waves of new population thatthreatened to submerge it; and the occasional spectacle of retiredgenerals and colonels, the growing number of broughams and victorias inthe streets, or the rumours of persons with "smart" or "county"connections to be found among the rows of new villas spreading up theBanbury Road were still not sufficiently marked to disturb the essentialcharacter of the old and beautiful place. But new ways and new mannerswere creeping in, and the young were sensitively aware of them, likebirds that feel the signs of coming weather.

  Alice fell into a brown study. She was thinking about a recent dancegiven at a house in the Parks, where some of her particular friends hadbeen present, and where, on the whole, she had enjoyed herself greatly.Nothing is ever perfect, and she would have liked it better if HerbertPryce's sister had not--past all denying--had more partners and agreater success than herself, and if Herbert Pryce himself had notbeen--just a little--casual and inattentive. But after all they had hadtwo or three glorious supper dances, and he certainly would have kissedher hand, while they were sitting out in the garden, if she had not madehaste to put it out of his reach. "You never did anything of the kindtill you were sure he did not mean to kiss it!" said conscience. "I didnot give myself away in the least!"--was vanity's angry reply. "I wasperfectly dignified."

  Herbert Pryce was a young fellow and tutor--a mathematical fellow; andtherefore, Alice's father, for whom Greek was the only study worth thebrains of a rational being, could not be got to take the smallestinterest in him. But he was certainly very clever, and it was said hewas going to get a post at Cambridge--or something at theTreasury--which would enable him to marry. Alice suddenly had a vaguevision of her own wedding; the beautiful central figure--she wouldcertainly look beautiful in her wedding dress!--bowing so gracefully;the bridesmaids behind, in her favourite colours, white and pale green;and the tall man beside her. But Herbert Pryce was not really tall, andnot particularly good-looking, though he had a rather distinguishedhatchet face, with a good forehead. Suppose Herbert and Vernon and allher other friends, were to give up being "nice" to her as soon as ConnieBledlow appeared? Suppose she was going to be altogether cut out and putin the background? Alice had a kind of uneasy foreboding that HerbertPryce would think a title "interesting."

  Meanwhile Nora, having looked through an essay on "Piers Plowman," whichshe was to take to her English Literature tutor on the following day,went aimlessly upstairs and put her head into Connie's room. The oldhouse was panelled, and its guest-room, though small and shabby, had yetabsorbed from its oaken walls, and its outlook on the garden and St.Cyprian's, a certain measure of the Oxford charm. The furniture wasextremely simple--a large hanging cupboard made by curtaining one of thepanelled recesses of the wall, a chest of drawers, a bed, a smalldressing-table and glass, a carpet that was the remains of one which hadoriginally covered the drawing-room for many years, an armchair, awriting-table, and curtains which having once been blue had now beendyed a serviceable though ugly dark red. In Nora's eyes it was allcomfortable and nice. She herself had insisted on having the carpet andcurtains redipped, so that they really looked almost new, and the onemattress on the bed "made over"; she had brought up the armchair, andshe had gathered the cherry-blossoms, which stood on the mantelpieceshining against the darkness of the walls. She had also hung above it aphotograph of Watts "Love and Death." Nora looked at the picture and theflowers with a throb of pleasure. Alice never noticed such things.

  And now what about the maid? Fancy bringing a maid! Nora's sentiments onthe subject were extremely scornful. However Connie had simply taken itfor granted, and she had been housed somehow. Nora climbed up an atticstair and looked into a room which had a dormer window in the roof, twostrips of carpet on the boards, a bed, a washing-stand, a painted chestof drawers, a table, with an old looking-glass, and two chairs. "Well,that's all I have!" thought Nora defiantly. But a certain hospitable ordemocratic instinct made her go downstairs again and bring up a smallvase of flowers like those in Connie's room, and put it on the maid'stable. The maid was English, but she had lived a long time abroad withthe Risboroughs.

  Sounds! Yes, that was the fly stopping at the front door! Nora flewdownstairs, in a flush of excitement. Alice too had come out into thehall, looking shy and uncomfortable. Dr. Hooper emerged from his study.He was a big, loosely built man, with a shock of grizzled hair,spectacles, and a cheerful expression.

  A tall, slim girl, in a grey dust-cloak and a large hat, entered thedark panelled hall, looking round her. "Welcome, my dear Connie!" saidDr. Hooper, cordially, taking her hand and kissing her. "Your train musthave been a little late."

  "Twenty minutes!" said Mrs. Hooper, who had followed her niece into thehall. "And the draughts in the station, Ewen, were something appalling."

  The tone was fretful. It had even a touch of indignation as though thespeaker charged her husband with the draughts. Mrs. Hooper was a womanbetween forty and fifty, small and plain, except for a pair of ratherfine eyes, which, in her youth, while her cheeks were still pink, andthe obstinate lines of her thin slit mouth and prominent chin were lessmarked, had beguiled several lovers, Ewen Hooper at their head.

  Dr. Hooper took no notice of her complaints. He was saying to hisniece--"This is Alice, Constance--and Nora! You'll hardly remember eachother again, after all these years."

  "Oh, yes, I remember quite well," said a clear, high-pitched voice. "Howdo you do!--how do you do?"

  And the girl held a hand out to each cousin in turn. She did not offerto kiss either Alice or Nora. But she looked at them steadily, andsuddenly Nora was aware of that expression of which
she had so vividalthough so childish a recollection--as though a satiric spirit sathidden and laughing in the eyes, while the rest of the face wasquite grave.

  "Come in and have some tea. It's quite ready," said Alice, throwing openthe drawing-room door. Her face had cleared suddenly. It did not seem toher, at least in the shadows of the hall, that her cousin Constance wasanything of a beauty.

  "I'm afraid I must look after Annette first. She's much more importantthan I am!"

  And the girl ran back to where a woman in a blue serge coat and skirtwas superintending the carrying in of the luggage. There was a greatdeal of luggage, and Annette, who wore a rather cross, flushed air,turned round every now and then to look frowningly at the old gabledhouse into which it was being carried, as though she were more thandoubtful whether the building would hold the boxes. Yet as houses went,in the older parts of Oxford, Medburn House, Holywell, was roomy.

  "Annette, don't do any unpacking till after tea!" cried Lady Constance."Just get the boxes carried up, and rest a bit. I'll come and helpyou later."

  The maid said nothing. Her lips seemed tightly compressed. She steppedinto the hall, and spoke peremptorily to the white-capped parlourmaidwho stood bewildered among the trunks.

  "Have those boxes--" she pointed to four--two large American Saratogas,and two smaller trunks--"carried up to her ladyship's room. The othertwo can go into mine."

  "Miss!" whispered the agitated maid in Nora's ear, "we'll never get anyof those boxes up the top-stairs. And if we put them four into herladyship's room, she'll not be able to move."

  "I'll come and see to it," said Nora, snatching up a bag. "They've gotto go somewhere!"

  Mrs. Hooper repeated that Nora would manage it, and languidly waved herniece towards the drawing-room. The girl hesitated, laughed, and finallyyielded, seeing that Nora was really in charge. Dr. Hooper led her in,placed an armchair for her beside the tea-table, and stood closelyobserving her.

  "You're like your mother," he said, at last, in a low voice; "at leastin some points." The girl turned away abruptly, as though what he saidjarred, and addressed herself to Alice.

  "Poor Annette was very sick. It was a vile crossing."

  "Oh, the servants will look after her," said Alice indifferently.

  "Everybody has to look after Annette!--or she'll know the reason why,"laughed Lady Constance, removing her black gloves from a very small andslender hand. She was dressed in deep mourning with crape still upon herhat and dress, though it was more than a year since her mother's death.Such mourning was not customary in Oxford, and Alice Hooper thoughtit affected.

  Mrs. Hooper then made the tea. But the newcomer paid little attention tothe cup placed beside her. Her eyes wandered round the group at thetea-table, her uncle, a man of originally strong physique, marred now bythe student's stoop, and by weak eyes, tried by years of Greek andGerman type; her aunt--

  "What a very odd woman Aunt Ellen is!" thought Constance.

  For, all the way from the station, Mrs. Hooper had talked about scarcelyanything but her own ailments, and the Oxford climate. "She told us allabout her rheumatisms--and the east winds--and how she ought to go toBuxton every year--only Uncle Hooper wouldn't take things seriously. Andshe never asked us anything at all about our passage, or our nightjourney! And there was Annette--as yellow as an egg--and as _cross_--"

  However Dr. Hooper was soon engaged in making up for his wife'sshortcomings. He put his niece through many questions as to the yearwhich had elapsed since her parent's death; her summer in the high Alps,and her winter at Cannes.

  "I never met your friends--Colonel and Mrs. King. We are not military inOxford. But they seem--to judge from their letters--to be very nicepeople," said the Professor, his tone, quite unconsciously, suggestingthe slightest shade of patronage.

  "Oh, they're dears," said the girl warmly. "They were awfully good tome."

  "Cannes was very gay, I suppose?"

  "We saw a great many people in the afternoons. The Kings knew everybody.But I didn't go out in the evenings."

  "You weren't strong enough?"

  "I was in mourning," said the girl, looking at him with her large andbrilliant eyes.

  "Yes, yes, of course!" murmured the Reader, not quite understanding whyhe felt himself a trifle snubbed. He asked a few more questions, and hisniece, who seemed to have no shyness, gave a rapid description, as shesipped her tea, of the villa at Cannes in which she had passed thewinter months, and of the half dozen families, with whom she and herfriends had been mostly thrown. Alice Hooper was secretly thrilled bysome of the names which dropped out casually. She always read theaccounts in the _Queen_, or the _Sketch_, of "smart society" on theRiviera, and it was plain to her that Constance had been dreadfully "init." It would not apparently have been possible to be more "in it." Shewas again conscious of a hot envy of her cousin which made her unhappy.Also Connie's good looks were becoming more evident. She had taken offher hat, and all the distinction of her small head, her slender neck andsloping shoulders, was more visible; her self-possession, too, the easeand vivacity of her gestures. Her manner was that of one accustomed to alarge and varied world, who took all things without surprise, as theycame. Dr. Hooper had felt some emotion, and betrayed some, in thismeeting with his sister's motherless child; but the girl's only betrayalof feeling had lain in the sharpness with which she had turned away fromher uncle's threatened effusion. "And how she looks at us!" thoughtAlice. "She looks at us through and through. Yet she doesn't stare."

  But at that moment Alice heard the word "prince," and her attention wasinstantly arrested.

  "We had some Russian neighbours," the newcomer was saying; "Prince andPrincess Jaroslav; and they had an English party at Christmas. It wasgreat fun. They used to take us out riding into the mountains, or intoItaly." She paused a moment, and then said carelessly--as though to keepup the conversation--"There was a Mr. Falloden with them--anundergraduate at Marmion College, I think. Do you know him, Aunt Ellen?"She turned towards her aunt.

  But Mrs. Hooper only looked blank. She was just thinking anxiously thatshe had forgotten to take her tabloids after lunch, because Ewen hadhustled her off so much too soon to the station.

  "I don't think we know him," she said vaguely, turning towards Alice.

  "We know all about him. He was introduced to me once."

  The tone of the eldest Miss Hooper could scarcely have been colder. Theeyes of the girl opposite suddenly sparkled into laughter.

  "You didn't like him?"

  "Nobody does. He gives himself such ridiculous airs."

  "Does he?" said Constance. The information seemed to be of no interestto her. She asked for another cup of tea.

  "Oh, Falloden of Marmion?" said Dr. Hooper. "I know him quite well. Oneof the best pupils I have. But I understand he's the heir to his olduncle, Lord Dagnall, and is going to be enormously rich. His father's amillionaire already. So of course he'll soon forget his Greek. Ahorrid waste!"

  "He's detested in college!" Alice's small face lit up vindictively."There's a whole set of them. Other people call them 'the bloods.' Thedons would like to send them all down."

  "They won't send Falloden down, my dear, before he gets his First inGreats, which he will do this summer. But this is his last term. I neverknew any one write better Greek iambics than that fellow," said theReader, pausing in the middle of his cup of tea to murmur certain Greeklines to himself. They were part of the brilliant copy of verses bywhich Douglas Falloden of Marmion, in a fiercely contested year, hadfinally won the Ireland, Ewen Hooper being one of the examiners.

  "That's what's so abominable," said Alice, setting her small mouth."You don't expect reading men to drink, and get into rows."

  "Drink?" said Constance Bledlow, raising her eyebrows.

  Alice went into details. The dons of Marmion, she said, were reallyfrightened by the spread of drinking in college, all caused by the badexample of the Falloden set. She talked fast and angrily, and her cousinlistened, half scornfully, but still atte
ntively.

  "Why don't they keep him in order?" she said at last. "We did!" And shemade a little gesture with her hand, impatient and masterful, as thoughdismissing the subject.

  And at that moment Nora came into the room, flushed either with physicalexertion, or the consciousness of her own virtue. She found a place atthe tea-table, and panting a little demanded to be fed.

  "It's hungry work, carrying up trunks!"

  "You didn't!" exclaimed Constance, in large-eyed astonishment. "I say, Iam sorry! Why did you? I'm sure they were too heavy. Why didn't Annetteget a man?"

  And sitting up, she bent across the table, all charm suddenly, and softdistress.

  "We did get one, but he was a wretched thing. I was worth two of him,"said Nora triumphantly. "You should feel my biceps. There!"

  And slipping up her loose sleeve, she showed an arm, at which ConstanceBledlow laughed. And her laugh touched her face with somethingaudacious--something wild--which transformed it.

  "I shall take care how I offend you!"

  Nora nodded over her tea.

  "Your maid was shocked. She said I might as well have been a man."

  "It's quite true," sighed Mrs. Hooper. "You always were such a tomboy,Nora."

  "Not at all! But I wish to develop my muscles. That's why I do Swedishexercises every morning. It's ridiculous how flabby girls are. Thereisn't a girl in my lecture I can't put down. If you like, I'll teach youmy exercises," said Nora, her mouth full of tea-cake, and her expressionhalf friendly, half patronising.

  Connie Bledlow did not immediately reply. She seemed to be quietlyexamining Nora, as she had already examined Alice, and that odd gleam inthe eyes under depths appeared again. But at last she said, smiling--

  "Thank you. But my muscles are quite strong enough for the only exerciseI want. You said I might have a horse, Uncle Ewen, didn't you?" Sheturned eagerly to the master of the house.

  Dr. Hooper looked at his wife with some embarrassment. "I want you tohave anything you wish for--in reason--my dear Connie; but your aunt israther exercised about the proprieties."

  The small dried-up woman behind the tea-urn said sharply:

  "A girl can't ride alone in Oxford--she'd be talked about at once!"

  Lady Connie flushed mutinously.

  "I could take a groom, Aunt Ellen!"

  "Well, I don't approve of it," said Mrs. Hooper, in the half plaintivetone of one who must speak although no one listens. "But of course youruncle must decide."

  "We'll talk it over, my dear Connie, we'll talk it over," said Dr.Hooper cheerfully. "Now wouldn't you like Nora to show you toyour room?"

  The girls went upstairs together, Nora leading the way.

  "It's an awful squash in your room," said Nora abruptly. "I don't knowhow you'll manage."

  "My fault, I suppose, for bringing so many things! But where else couldI put them?"

  Nora nodded gravely, as though considering the excuse. The newcomersuddenly felt herself criticised by this odd schoolgirl and resented it.

  The door of the spare-room was open, and the girls entered upon a sceneof chaos. Annette rose from her knees, showing a brick-red countenanceof wrath that strove in vain for any sort of dignity. And again thatlook of distant laughter came into Lady Connie's eyes.

  "My dear Annette, why aren't you having a rest, as I told you! I can dowith anything to-night."

  "Well, my lady, if you'll tell me how you'll get into bed, unless I putsome of these things away, I should be obliged!" said Annette, with adark look at Nora. "I've asked for a wardrobe for you, and this younglady says there isn't one. There's that hanging cupboard"--she pointedwitheringly to the curtained recess--"your dresses will be ruined therein a fortnight. And there's that chest of drawers. Your things will haveto stay in the trunks, as far as I can see, and then you might as wellsleep on them. It would give you more room!"

  With which stroke of sarcasm, Annette returned to the angry unpacking ofher mistress's bag.

  "I must buy a wardrobe," said Connie, looking round her in perplexity."Never mind, Annette, I can easily buy one."

  It was now Nora's turn to colour.

  "You mustn't do that," she said firmly. "Father wouldn't like it. We'llfind something. But do you want such a lot of things?"

  She looked at the floor heaped with every variety of delicate mourning,black dresses, thick and thin, for morning and afternoon; and black andwhite, or pure white, for the evening. And what had happened to the bed?It was already divested of the twilled cotton sheets and marcella quiltwhich were all the Hoopers ever allowed either to themselves or theirguests. They had been replaced by sheets 'of the finest and smoothestlinen, embroidered with a crest and monogram in the corners, and by acoverlet of old Italian lace lined with pale blue silk; while the downpillows at the head with their embroidered and lace-trimmed slipscompleted the transformation of what had been a bed, and was now almosta work of art.

  And the dressing-table! Nora went up to it in amazement. It too wasspread with lace lined with silk, and covered with a toilet-set ofmother-of-pearl and silver. Every brush and bottle was crested andinitialled. The humble looking-glass, which Nora, who was something of acarpenter, had herself mended before her cousin's arrival, was standingon the floor in a corner, and a folding mirror framed in embossed silverhad taken its place.

  "I say, do you always travel with these things?" The girl stoodopen-mouthed, half astonished, half contemptuous.

  "What things?"

  Nora pointed to the toilet-table and the bed.

  Connie's expression showed an answering astonishment.

  "I have had them all my life," she said stiffly. "We always took our ownlinen to hotels, and made our rooms nice."

  "I should think you'd be afraid of their being stolen!" Nora took up oneof the costly brushes, and examined it in wonder.

  "Why should I be? They're nothing. They're just like other people's!"With a slight but haughty change of manner, the girl turned away, andbegan to talk Italian to her maid.

  "I never saw anything like them!" said Nora stoutly.

  Constance Bledlow took no notice. She and Annette were chattering fast,and Nora could not understand a word. She stood by awkward andsuperfluous, feeling certain that the maid who was gesticulating, nowtowards the ceiling, and now towards the floor, was complaining both ofher own room and of the kitchen accommodation. Her mistress listenedcarelessly, occasionally trying to soothe her, and in the middle of thestream of talk, Nora slipped away.

  "It's horrid!--spending all that money on yourself," thought the girl ofseventeen indignantly. "And in Oxford too!--as if anybody wanted suchthings here."

  * * * * *

  Meanwhile, she was no sooner gone than her cousin sank down on thearmchair, and broke into a slightly hysterical fit of laughter.

  "Can we stand it, Annette? We've got to try. Of course you can leave meif you choose."

  "And I should like to know how you'd get on then!" said Annette,grimly, beginning again upon the boxes.

  "Well, of course, I shouldn't get on at all. But really we might giveaway a lot of these clothes! I shall never want them."

  The speaker looked frowning at the stacks of dresses and lingerie.Annette made no reply; but went on busily with her unpacking. If theclothes were to be got rid of, they were her perquisites. She wasdevoted to Constance, but she stood on her rights.

  Presently a little space was cleared on the floor, and Constance, seeingthat it was nearly seven o'clock, and the Hoopers supped at half past,took off her black dress with its crape, and put on a white one, high tothe throat and long-sleeved; a French demi-toilette, plain, and evensevere in make, but cut by the best dressmaker in Nice. She lookedextraordinarily tall and slim in it and very foreign. Her maid clasped along string of opals, which was her only ornament, about her neck. Shegave one look at herself in the glass, holding herself proudly, onemight have said arrogantly. But as she turned away, and so that Annettecould not see her, she raised the opals, an
d held them a moment softlyto her lips. Her mother had habitually worn them. Then she moved to thewindow, and looked out over the Hoopers' private garden, to thespreading college lawns, and the grey front beyond.

  "Am I really going to stay here a whole year--nearly?" she askedherself, half laughing, half rebellious.

  Then her eye fell upon a medley of photographs; snaps from her owncamera, which had tumbled out of her bag in unpacking. The topmost onerepresented a group of young men and maidens standing under a group ofstone pines in a Riviera landscape. She herself was in front, with atall youth beside her. She bent down to look at it.

  "I shall come across him I suppose--before long." And raising herself,she stood awhile, thinking; her face alive with an excitement that washalf expectation, and half angry recollection.