England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Short stories, English
The girls were in a sort of boudoir, half-way up the stairs. The French
would, I suppose, call it the entresol: a warm-looking room, with
stained glass in the windows, and a rich coloured carpet. Coralie
and Vera were, as usual, dressed alike, in delicate summer-muslins.
Vera--how pretty she looked!--had blue ribbon in her hair: her blue
eyes laughed at seeing us, a pink flush set off her dimples.
"When do you sail, Captain Tanerton?" abruptly asked Sir Dace, suddenly
interrupting the conversation.
"On Thursday, all being well," answered Jack.
"Do you take out the same mate?--that Pym?"
"I believe so; yes, Sir Dace."
We had to go away, or should not find standing-room on the
cricket-ground. Sir Dace said he would accompany us, and called out to
Ozias to bring his hat. Before the hat came, he thought better of it,
and said he would not go; those sights fatigued him. I did not know what
had taken place until later, or I might have thought he stayed at home
to guard Verena. He gave us a cordial invitation to dinner in the
evening, we must all go, he said; and Mr. Brandon was the only one of
us who declined.
"I am very busy," said Jack, "but I will contrive to get free by seven
this evening."
"Very busy indeed, when you can spend the day at Lord's!" laughed
Verena.
"I am not going to Lord's," said Jack. Which was true. "I have come up
this way to see an invalid passenger who is going out in my ship."
"Oh," quoth Vera, "I thought what a nice idle time you were having of
it. Mind, Johnny Ludlow, that you take me in to dinner to-night. I have
something to tell you."
Close upon the dinner-hour named, seven, the Squire and I were again at
Sir Dace Fontaine's. Tanerton's cab came dashing up at the same moment.
Coralie was in the drawing-room alone, her white dress and herself
resplendent in coral ornaments. Sir Dace came in, and the Squire began
telling him about the cricket-match, saying he ought to have been there.
Presently Sir Dace rang the bell.
"How is it that dinner's late?" he asked sternly of Ozias--for Sir Dace
liked to be served to the moment.
"The dinner only wait for Miss Verena, sir," returned Ozias, "She no
down yet."
Sir Dace turned round sharply to look at the sofa behind him, where
I sat with Coralie, talking in an undertone. He had not noticed, I
suppose, but that both sisters were there.
"Let Miss Verena be told that we wait for her," he said, waving his hand
to Ozias.
Back came Ozias in a minute or two. "Miss Verena, she no upstairs, sir.
She no anywhere."
Of all the frowns that ever made a face ugly, the worst sat on Sir Dace
Fontaine's, as he turned to Coralie.
"Have you let her go out?" he asked.
"Why of course she is not out, papa," answered Coralie, calm and smiling
as usual.
"Let Esther go into Miss Verena's room, Ozias, and ask her to come down
at once."
"Esther go this last time, Miss Coralie. She come down and say, Ozias,
Miss Verena no upstairs at all; she go out."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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