Rylton

“ Sir Maurice is only crossing the lawn now, and by running through the hall outside, and getting on to the veranda outside the dining-room window, she can see him before he enters the drawing-room.
Gaining the veranda, she leans over the railings and makes a signal to him; it is an old signal. Rylton responds to it, and in a second is by her side.
"Oh no, you must not stay; your mother is waiting for you in the south drawing-room. She saw you coming; she wants you."
"Well, but about what?" asks Rylton, naturally bewildered.
"Nothing—only—she is going to advise you for your good. ”

“ For a full minute Rylton remains silent. The mind is a strange thing, not to be controlled, full of vagaries, and now, for no reason whatever, as it seems to him, it has run back to his wedding morning. Is this the careless, idle, little tomboy who had stood before the altar—the little girl he had assured himself he could mould to his will?
"You forget," says he coldly, "that you are married to me. It is not so simple a matter as you seem to imagine for a wife to throw off her marriage yoke."
"Yoke! What a good word that is!" says Tita, with the air of one making a discovery. ”

“ To-night Lady Rylton has been pronounced by most of those present the prettiest woman in the room. Hescott pilots his charming companion to a low lounge in a corner of the room, a place at any of the tables being impossible to get. But Rylton decides that he has taken her to that secluded spot to make more conspicuous his flirtation with her; and she—she seems only too ready to help him in his plan.
The fact that he is frowning heavily is conveyed to him by a voice at his elbow.
"Don't look so intense—so like a thirteenth-century conspirator!" says Mrs. Bethune. ”

“ That quick, curious glance brings Rylton to himself. He cannot stay here any longer. He must go back into the house. It will be madness to absent himself. And, after all, is not the whole thing madness? What is this girl to him? A mere name; nothing more.
He mounts the steps leading to the conservatory, and, meeting Minnie
Hescott, asks her to dance. ”

“ It is such a comfort to dwell on it," says Lady Rylton, still dabbing her eyes. "He was happy—quite happy when he left me."
"I never saw anyone so happy," says Mrs. Bethune.
Her voice sounds choking; no doubt it is emotion. She rises and goes to the window. The emotion seems to have got into her shoulders.
"All which proves," goes on Lady Rylton, turning to Margaret, "that a marriage based on friendship, even between two young people, is often successful."
"But surely in your case there was love on one side," says Miss
Knollys, a little impatiently. "My uncle——"
"Oh, he adored me!" ”

“ When one loves a thing, one speaks of it. Don't you love your bath?" asks Tita.
Lady Rylton sits glaring at her, as if too horrified to go on. Tita continues:
"If you don't, you ought, you know," says she.
"You must be out of your mind to talk to me like this," says Lady Rylton at last. Something in the girl's air tells her that there is some little touch of devilment in it, some anger, some hatred. "But, naturally, I make allowances for you. ”

“ All at once Rylton seems to remember what his wife had said to him a few weeks ago, when they were discussing the question of their guests. She had told him he need not be afraid of her relations; they were presentable enough, or something like that. Looking at Tom Hescott at this moment, Sir Maurice tells himself, with a grim smile, that he is, perhaps, a little too presentable—a sort of man that women always smile upon. His grim smile fades into a distinct frown as he watches Tita smiling now on the too presentable cousin. ”

“ She stands up, and looks at the older woman as if defying her. Her small face is all alight, her eyes are burning.
"I dare say not, after all," says Lady Rylton, with a cruel smile. "He knew what he was about when he made that arrangement. It leaves him delightfully free to renew his love-affair with Marian Bethune."
"If he desires such freedom it is his." Tita gathers up her fan, and the long suède gloves lying on the chair near her, and walks towards the door.
"Stay, Tita!" cries Lady Rylton hurriedly. "You will say nothing of this to Maurice. ”

“ What are looks?" cries Mrs. Chichester gaily. "Looks always belie one."
"Certainly Lady Rylton's must belie her," says Mrs. Bethune, with a slow smile. "What cause has she for tears?"
"Not one!" declares Mrs. Chichester with decision. "It would be 'a sinner above all the Galileans' who would make Lady Rylton cry."
Her queer green eyes smile at Tita, who smiles back at her in her little sweet way, and then all at once bursts out laughing. It is a charming laugh, apparently full of mirth. There are only two present who do not quite believe in it, Margaret and Tom Hescott—but these two love her. ”

“ She spreads her beautiful little hands abroad, as if in eloquent description of an end to her sentence.
Mrs. Bethune bursts out laughing. She can always laugh at pleasure.
"It sounds like the old Bible story," says she; "you have an only son, and you must sacrifice him!"
"Don't study to be absurd!" says Lady Rylton, with a click of her fan that always means mischief.
She throws herself back in her chair, and a tiny frown settles upon her brow. She is such a small creation of Nature's that only a frown of the slightest dimensions could settle itself comfortably between her eyes. ”

“ She breaks off, evidently overcome, yet behind the cobweb she presses to her cheeks she has an eye on Marian.
"I don't think Maurice's arms could hold her," says Mrs. Bethune, with a low laugh. It is a strange laugh. Lady Rylton's glance grows keener. "Such a mere doll of a thing. A mite!" She laughs again, but this time (having caught Lady Rylton's concentrated gaze) in a very ordinary manner—the passion, the anger has died out of it.
"Yes, she's a mere mite," says Lady Rylton. "She is positively trivial! ”

“ Maurice?"
"Do I what?"
"Do you agree with Mrs. Bethune?"
"I always agree with everybody," says Rylton, smiling.
Tita moves abruptly away.
"What a hot day it is," says she petulantly, "and nothing to do. Tom," beckoning Hescott to her, "tell us a story. Do. You used to tell beautiful ones—in—the old days."
"Do you still long for them?" asks Mrs. Bethune, always with her supercilious smile, and in a tone that is almost a whisper, yet quite loud enough for Rylton, who is standing near, to hear.
"Do you?" demands Tita, turning upon her with eyes ablaze with miserable anger. ”

“ After all, these unequal marriages never do. Rylton plainly was tired of her, and when the money went—well, then Margaret took her off his hands. Of course Margaret was better than the cousin—more respectable. This brilliant bit of wit was received with much soft smothered mirth. But as for Rylton—he certainly had not come well out of it. A fellow should stick to his bargain, any way. He had married her for her money, and that gone, had shaken himself free. It was certainly playing it a little low down. By the way, wouldn't Mrs. Bethune be singing hymns over it all! ”

“ She gives a little expressive downward glance at his hands, as he holds her arms. "Speak, my lord! and your slave answers." She has thrown some mockery into her tone.
"I am not your lord," says Rylton. He drops her arms, and lets her go, and stands well back from her. "That is the last part assigned to me."
Mrs. Bethune's gaze grows concentrated. It is fixed on him. What does he mean? What is the object of this flat rebellion—this receding from her authority? Strength is hers, as well as charm, and she comes to the front bravely. ”

“ Give it the new name and be done with it."
"There can be no new name for a mere imagination. I don't believe she ever had any—any love affair with Mr. Hescott. I don't really, and," boldly, "in your heart I don't think you believe it either. No, don't turn away, don't. It is for your sake I speak, because I have always your interest at heart; Maurice, I entreat you to pause, to think. Is all the fault on Tita's side? Have you loved her as she should be loved?—that little, quick, enthusiastic creature. Where has your heart been since your marriage!"
"You go very far," says Rylton, pale, cold. ”

“ You're worse than him," her anger growing because of that smile. "I never——"
"Never what?"
"I never met such a cross cat in my life!" says Lady Rylton, turning her back on him.
"It's well to be unique in one's own line," says he grimly.
A short laugh breaks from him. How absurd she is! A regular little spitfire; yet what a pretty one. His heart is full of sadness, yet he cannot keep back that laugh. He hardly knows how he has so much mirth left in him, but the laugh sounds through the room and drives Tita to frenzy. ”

“ Her tone startles him. He looks up. All the tears, the grief are gone; she is the gay, laughing Tita that he thinks he knows.
"Well, what?" His tone is a little cold. She is superficial, certainly. "If you decline to ask your friends——"
"I don't decline. It is only that I have no friends," declares she.
There is something too deliberate in her manner to be quite natural, and Rylton looks at her. She returns his glance with something of mockery in hers.
"It isn't nice to be married to a mere nobody, is it?" says she, showing her pretty teeth in a rather malicious little laugh. ”

“ She recovers herself and smiles at him, but her face is still white. "A thought, a mere thought—it cannot be only Tita and her cousin who have old associations, who have—memories."
Her eyes are full of tears. She leans toward him. This time her lips do touch him—softly her lips touch his cheek. The curtains hide them.
"Have you no memories?" says she.
"Marian! This is madness," says Rylton, turning suddenly to her. In a sense, though without a gesture, he repulses her. She looks back at him; rage is in her heart at first, but, seeing him as he is, rage gives place to triumph. ”

“ And, indeed, it must be confessed that the hoyden's hair is not all it ought to be. It is in effect "all over the place"—it is straight here, and wandering there; but perhaps its wildness helps to make more charming the naughty childish little face that peeps out of it.
"She has no manners—none!" says Lady Rylton. "She——"
"Ah, is that you, Lady Rylton?" cries the small creature on the terrace, having caught a glimpse of her hostess through the window.
"Yes, come in—come in!" cries Lady Rylton, changing her tone at once, and smiling and beckoning to the girl with long fingers. ”

“ Altogether she is just a little, a very little, pronounced in her behaviour. Her opponents, people who have come over to The Place for the day, whisper something to each other, and laugh a little. After all, they have lost—perhaps they are somewhat spiteful. Lady Rylton, sitting on the terrace above, bites her lips. What an impossible girl! and yet how rich! Things must be wrong somewhere, when Fate showers money on such a little ill-bred creature. ”

“ She dislikes me, as I dislike her. If you wish to see her, send a message through her maid, or," a happy thought coming to her, "through Margaret; she cares for Tita as a cat might care for her kitten!"
"Poor Margaret," says Lady Rylton, with a sneer. "I fear she will always have to care for other cats' kittens!"
"Do you? I don't," says Marian, who, though she detests most people, has always a strange tenderness for Margaret.
"What do you mean?" asks Lady Rylton sharply.
"I think she will marry Colonel Neilson."
"Don't make yourself more absurd than you need be!" says her aunt contemptuously. ”

“ Rylton, detesting himself for the necessity for deception, has just seated himself at a writing-table, when Minnie Hescott enters the room. That astute young woman refrains from a glance round the room.
"Still writing?" says she.
She had told herself when she escaped from the others that she would do a good turn to Tita. She decided upon not caring what Rylton would think of her. Men were more easily appeased than women. ”

“ It's Uncle George that there is something the matter with. Rickfort is my house, too, but I hate it; it is so gloomy. I'm sure," with a shrug of her shoulders, "Uncle George might have it, and welcome, if only he wouldn't ask me to live there with him."
"Uncle George seems to make a poor show," says Rylton.
"He's horrid!" says Miss Bolton, without reservation. "He's a beast! He hates me, and I hate him."
"Oh, no!" says Rylton, roused a little.
The child's face is so earnest. He feels a little amused, and somewhat surprised. She seems the last person in the world capable of hatred. ”

“ He is striding onwards, lost in miserable thought, when suddenly footsteps, coming quickly towards him, rouse him. Someone is laughing. The laughter strikes to his very soul. When people laugh seldom, one always knows their laugh. Before Tom Hescott turns the corner Rylton knows it is his. ”

“ She has knelt down beside him to look at his list, and suddenly he lays his palm under her chin, and so lifts her face that he can see it.
"What is it, Tita?" says he. "Is anything troubling you? Last night you were so silent; to-day you talk. It is bad to be unequal."
His tone is grave.
"The night before last I had a bad dream," says Tita solemnly, turning her head a little to one side, and giving him a slight glance that lasts for the tiniest fraction of a second.
It occurs to Rylton that there is a little touch of wickedness in it. At all events, he grows interested. ”

“ Because I wish to see you."
"What a man's reason!" says she, with a scoffing smile. "I wonder you aren't ashamed of yourself."
"Well, I am sometimes," says Rylton, making an effort to suppress the anger that is rising within him. "I sometimes tell myself, for example, that I must be the meanest hound alive. I know you avoid me—hate me—and yet I come."
"But why—why?" impatiently.
"Because," slowly, "I—do not hate you."
"Don't be a hypocrite," says Tita sharply. She gets up suddenly, pushing back her chair behind her. "Why do you pretend?" says she. ”