Part 10 (1/2)

”I wonder what you yourself thought once, Lord Manister?” she said quietly. ”Whatever it was, it didn't last long; but I forgive that freely. Do you know why? Why, because it was exactly the same with me.”

”Do you forgive me for getting you talked about?” exclaimed Lord Manister.

”Yes--because it is the only thing I have to forgive,” returned Christina after a moment's hesitation. ”The rest was nonsense; and I wish you wouldn't rake it up in this dreadfully serious way.”

We know what Christina might mean by nonsense. Lord Manister was not the first of her friends whom she had offended by her abuse of the word. ”It was not nonsense!” he cried. ”It was something either better or worse. I give you my word that I honestly meant it to be something better. But my people sent for me. What could I do?”

His voice and eyes were pitiable; but Christina showed him no pity.

”What, indeed!” she said ironically. ”I myself never blamed you for going. I was quite sure that you were the pa.s.sive party, though others said differently. All I have to forgive is what you made other people say; but the whole affair is a matter of ancient history--and do you think we need talk about it any more, Lord Manister?”

”It is not all I have to forgive myself,” he answered bitterly, disregarding her question. ”If only you would hate me, I could hate myself less; but I deserve your contempt. Yet, if you knew what has been in my heart all this time, you would pity one. You have haunted me! I have been good for nothing ever since I came back to England. My people will tell you so, when you get to know them. My mother would tell you in a minute. She has never heard your name ... but she knows there was someone ... she knows there is someone still!”

Christina had colored at last; but, as she colored, the trot of a horse came gratefully to her attentive ears.

”You must think no more about it,” she whispered; and her flush deepened.

”You wipe it all out?” he cried eagerly.

”Of course I do.”

Her eyes met the dogcart at the bend. Herbert was in it.

”And we start afresh?”

He thought he was to get no answer. She was gazing anxiously at Herbert as the trap approached; as it drew up on the bridge she murmured, ”I think we had better let well alone,” without looking at Lord Manister.

”Herbert, you remember Lord Manister?” she cried aloud in the same breath.

Herbert's look was not rea.s.suring. He was, in fact, disgusted with all present but the groom, and most of all with himself, for being where he was. Nor was he the young man to trouble to hide his feelings, and he showed them now in so black a look that Christina, who knew him, was filled with apprehension. Thanks to Lord Manister's tact, that look did not last. Manister, who had his own impression of young Luttrell's character, and had not to be shrewd to guess the other's att.i.tude toward himself, brought his most graceful manner to bear on the situation. With Tiny Luttrell, during the bad quarter of an hour which he had deserved and now endured, his best manner had not been at his command; but it returned to him with the return of the dogcart, and in time to do him a service. He had hardly shaken hands with Herbert when he asked him as an Australian, and therefore a judge, his opinion of the mare.

The touch would have been too heavy for an older man; but Herbert was barely twenty, and it flattered him to the marrow. Christina was relieved to hear his knowing but laudatory comments on the mare's points. She knew that, despite her brother's aggressive independence, he was susceptible enough to marked civility. This, indeed, he never expected, and he was ever ready to return, with interest, some fancied slight; but Christina had never known him rude to anyone going out of his way to be polite to him, as Lord Manister was doing this morning.

She divined that politeness from a n.o.bleman was not less gratifying to Herbert because he happened to have maligned the n.o.bleman with much industry. Herbert's modest desire was to be treated as an equal by all men, and he was now being treated as an equal by a lord. This was all he required to make him reasonably civil, even to Lord Manister. When Manister asked him, almost deferentially, whether the mare could be taken in the photograph, he offered his lords.h.i.+p a place in it too, the offer being declined, but not without many thanks.

”I'm going to help take it,” Manister laughed. ”Mind you don't move, Luttrell. I'm going to help your sister. Hadn't you better come too, and leave my man alone in his glory?”

Herbert replied that he would take off the cap or do anything they liked. So the three went down into the meadow, and some infamous negatives resulted later. At the time care seemed to be taken by the photographers, while Lord Manister stood at a little distance, laughing a good deal. He was pressed to stand in the foreground, but not by Christina, and he steadily refused. The conciliation of his enemy seemed a.s.sured without that, though he did think of something else to make it doubly sure.

”By the way, Luttrell,” he said as the camera was being packed away, ”you're a cricketer to a certainty--you're an Australian.”

”I'm very fond of it,” the Australian replied, ”but I haven't played over here; I've never had the slant.”

”Well, we play a bit; come over and practice with us.”

Herbert thanked him, declaring that he should like nothing better.

”Lord Manister is a great cricketer,” Christina observed.

”Come over and practice,” repeated his lords.h.i.+p cordially. ”The ground isn't at all bad, considering it was only made last winter, and there's a professor to bowl to you. We have some matches coming on presently.