Nora's love test : a novel

Front matter

THE AUTHOR OF «OLD MYDDELTOTPS

I ta

\WxwM

Chapter I

He that might the 'vantage best have took Found out the remedy.

Measure for Measure.

They all saw it coming !

The drawing-room windows overlooked the bog — whicn, ftum the village on this western side, stretched in a gradual ascent until it kissed the sky far off — so they all saw it coming ! And then the boys laughed and disappeared ; and the girls laughed too, but dared not disappear, however much they wished it. And the Vicar made a little clicking sound with his tongue and the roof of his mouth, suggestive of a calm despair ; while his wife glanced at her guests, in mute appeal for their special indulgence in this trying moment. But only one of the guests met the glance ; and Mrs. Pennington saw with horror that her eyes soon went back to fix themselves on the hideous conveyance which — now heavily and unsteadily, and now with Jittle delusive spurts of comparative swiftness — was making its way with fatal and premeditated directness straight to the Vicarage gate. As for the other guest — well, it did not signify so much about him. Mortifying as it was that Miss Foster should encounter plebeian acquaintances on this first visit of hers to the Vicarage where her brother had been educated, it could not signify much to the strange gentleman, who had merely offered her his escort because he had been himself coming to Ireland — even to this very village — just at the same time.

Mrs. Pennington plucked up all her spirit — it was but a tiny specimen of the frail and brittle kind — and moved a trifle nearer to her lady-guest. By that time the object at which they all gazed was close to the Vicarage gate, its evil intent of passing beyond that sacred portal patent to the meanest capacity among tfa^ onlookers — so terribly patent ! The gaunt and aged quadruped, his huge framework clearly developed under his dusty skin, dropped his pinched head, and seized apathetically on the brief rest allowed Dy the opening of the gate ; and immediately afterwards the old car rattled along the gravel, in a manner peculiar to itself, composed of a forward plunge, and then a backward jerk, and then a temporary subsidence into a onesided, lively totter. The boys had let the gate slam, and were running with the car ; while the young girl who was its solitary occupant, being too much engrossed by the management of her steed to see the faces at the window as she passed, could yet let off a few random shots among the boys, and laugh full as heartily as they did at her own unique arrival.

" Jump up on the other side the car, Nat, and balance it ; then you'll see how smoothly we shall go round to the stables. You may well laugh, Tom. Isn't Borak fresh to-day ? "

And then again the girl's laugh was the merriest of the three.

"Of course I cannot be mistaken," murmured Miss Foster, turning graciously to the Vicar, " but I should hardly recognize your sons who were sitting here so decorously a few minutes ago."

The Vicar breathed a modest reminder of the fact that " boys will be boys," but his own chagrin was plainly readable ir various little red settlements upon his unwrinkled brow.

" And may I inquire," added Miss Foster, in the most soothing of tones, " what name you have for that extraordinary vehicle ?"

" It purports to be a jaunting-car," said the Vicar, suppressing in haste his own involuntary smile, " but it certainly is a curious specimen. Old Colonel St. George had a crippled carpenter to come into his own yard and make it, at odd moments, under his supervision, giving the man only his food in payment — the day rarely dawns when the old Colonel brings out money for anything. I daresay you noticed what a bare machine it is — guiltless of padding, cushions, or even paint ; and it needs only that bony old animal to be put in — the Colonel took him in exchange for a pig six years ago — to make it the most disgraceful turn-out in County Tyrone."

" Miss Pennington, let ua go into the garden ; shall we ? "

It was the other guest who made this proposal to the Vicar's eldest daughter, while he held open the window that she might pass through.

" I'm so glad," said Celia, in a little flutter of delight. " It seemed so odd not rushing out to meet Nora."

Her companion was walking idly, as if he had no aim this April afternoon, except to let its hours pass him by ; yet at her words his step grew slower still.

" Was that Nora in the shanderydan ? "

Celia's eyes twinkled.

" That isn't a shanderydan, Mr. Poynz. How plain it is to see you are not Iiish 1 Isn't it a frightful old car? And yet Nora is as pleased as possible when her grandfather lets her drive it. You should see her sometimes driving across the bog, standing on the footboard, and wasting far more strength in trying to get the horse to trot than she would need to walk twice the distance."

" Then her parents do not forhid "

" Nora has no parents," interrupted Celia, in those staid young tones of hers which so often amused the hoys. "And her grandfather — that's old Colonel St. George — doesn't care anything about what she does. Besides, you see, everybody knows her ; and I really think " — with a little access of confidence — "that there isn't a man or boy in the neighbourhood who wouldn't run anywhere at Nora's bidding. Indeed I often notice that even papa — even papa," repeated the girl impressively, " hasn't quite such influence over them as Nora has. And yet she is so terribly wild."

Mark Poj'nz looked down into the girl's gentle eyes. " And untamable .' " he asked, in his cool indifferent way ; but he did not even hear Celia's answer, as they turned from the little lawn into a gravelled path running straight between two bands of tangled flowers.

" This is the garden," said Celia, with a sweeping glance across the sooty onion-beds which lay beyond the flower-borders, and feeling that now she had conscientiously brought him to the goal he had desired. " You will like to walk round, I suppose ? "

As Mark not only did not say " No," but actually stooped now and then to pluck a wistful little anemone, or a precocious Canterbury Bell, Miss Pennington led him on all round the straggling garden, making pretty little brisk demands upon his attention, and listening with an astonished, wide-eyed interest to his occasional and rather brief remarks. They left the garden at last, by a well-worn gap in the hedge, and came out near the little coachhouse, at the open door of which Nora stood mending a heavy old whip with some twine which Tom Pennington drew inch by inch from a pocket in whose depth the end lay hidden. The boys had heard no sound of footsteps on the grass, and Nat Pennington — who, with a great deal of noise and commotion, was generously improving the occasion by bestowing an amateur rub-down upon Nora's angular steed — discoursed cheerily over his work —

" I say, Nora, aren't you dying to hear more of John Bull ? "

« Yes— dying fast. Pull that knot tight, Tom. Oh, Nat, I saw such a splendid trout round by the moat ! I know I could catch him, but I daren't ; so I'm going to give you my chance."

" Hoorab ! What a jolly girl you are for scenting game ! "

He was ^tr^ned by the brisk little " Hush ! " of Celia, as she darted forward aid greeted her friend.

" I never thought to find you here, Nora ; haven't you been into the house ?"

" Yes ; I had a message for Mr. Pennington from grandpa But I'm going home now "

"Oh, no!" cried Celia, puzzling just for one instant over a new tone in Nora's voice. " Come in again."

" No. Who is that lady in the drawing-room ? "

" Didn't they introduce you ? "

"No. They — forgot perhaps."

"Then the boys "

"I didn't ask the boys," interrupted Nora. "Celia, think of my growing up to be seventeen, without once feeling how different I was from — an English lady ! "

"Are you?" laughed Celia, with an impulsive kiss.

"Just look at me, and think how the sight of me would astonish a real English lady — if you can."

" I cannot, though. You are English, you know, as I am ; and I don't see why you shouldn't be a lady as much as I."

" Just look at me," Nora repeated, ber low rich voice growing hurried as she glanced down at her faded winter dress. " Think how, if you were not used to me, you would — stare."

Celia looked as she was bidden, laughing the while ; but some one else had come forward then, and saw what she saw — a girl with a shabby dress, but a lithe round figure, which had developed to the perfect beauty of womanhood, knowing no constraint ; a girl in an old and untrimmed hat, from which the hair hung in one rich and heavy plat behind, while on the temples it peeped in waves which caught the light, and changed and brightened with it ; a girl whose features were all too short for perfect statuesque beauty — even the curved upper lip and dimpled chin — but whose teeth were perfect, and whose eyes — long eyes of violet blue with dark and silky lashes — were beautiful beyond words.

" You look — just Nora," decided Miss Pennington, pleasantly dismissing the subject, as she saw that at last that other visitor of theirs had finished his slow process of fastening the anemones in his coat, and had come forward. " Nora, this gentleman is a friend of— Mr. Foster's."

Perhaps because it was difficult to curtsey as she stood against the open door, and perhaps because those last words of Celia's speech had some pleasant meaning in her ears, Nora moved the clumsy whip into her left hand, and frankly offered her right to the English stranger. And then she gravely tied her last knot, while she spoke to him.

" Is Mr. Foster — it seems so strange to call him Mister, but of course, as Celia did, I must — is he really a friend of yours ? I'm so glad. Is he coming here again soon ? And how is he ? I suppose you've hoard him preach. Does he say anything wise in his sermons ? He never did when he was here. It was such a comfort to see that however hard Will studied he never knew anything."

- Why a comfort '( "

'' Becau3e I was longing and longing to be taught — and — and it does persons good to see that school makes no difference."

"I see."

" I don't," smiled Celia. " I've been at school for years, and I ehould have been very idle if I didn't know a good deal now."

" There is plenty of time, Miss St. George," said Mark Poynz, looking into Nora's face with a quizzical, questioning gaze, "even if you have wasted all your seventeen years."

"How do you know Nora's age?" demanded Celia, with the look of surprise which sat so prettily upon her. " Did you guess?"

" Hardly," he replied, with great coolness. " I have heard it mentioned."

" How funny ! " said Nora, lightly. But she looked with a little more curiosity now at the tall stranger, whose face was lined and rugged, and yet so pleasant to look upon ; and whose thick dark hair had countless silver streaks among it. " I couldn't guess his age," she thought, " though he guessed mine so cleverly."

He had walked into the building now, and appeared to be tracing Borak's anatomy with interest, so Celia turned with a whispered aside to Nora — "You'll come in again, of course, dear ? I'll introduce you to Miss Foster. Doesn't she look stylish?"

" She looks, I suppose," said Nora, thoughtfully, and making no attempt at an aside, ".as girls of our age ought to look. Why do you ask me to stay, Celia ? Shall we — shall we," she repeat, ed, with a ring of unconsious hope in her voice, ■' have tea in the school-room if I stay — just we and the boys together as usual — and idle about and enjoy ourselves ? I thought of it all the morning, Celia, and indeed all yesterday, for I knew I was coming with the message. I've got such an awful ghost-story to tell you on the hay-stack. I invented it myself last night. I can't bring things to our pic-nic teas, you know, as I ought. I never can get a cake, or a leaf of fruit, or even an egg ; but I thought I could make you a story, and I had the news about the trout for Nat, and I was so happy. But I'll go now," she added, with the struggle for patience which made her merry voice sometimes so low and sad.

" It's too bad of you," pouted Celia.

" Why ? " asked Nora, quickly. " Would it be as it used to be if I stayed? Could we really have one of the old pleasant afternoons ? "

" No," returned Miss Pennington, finding it difficult to repress her little nutter of anticipation. " I am to dine with the elder ones this evening. Otherwise, dear Nora——"

" Good-bye," said the girl, with a suspicious catching in her breathj as she turned and put the bit between Borak's two re-

O NORAS LOVE TEST.

raaining teeth, doing it gently and skilfully, in spite of a new sensation of trembling in her fingers.

"I'll tell you what I'll do, Nora," cried Tom Pennington. " I'll take the car out to the bog for you, while Nat looks out that none of them see, and then you follow."

" D'you think," cried Nora, her cheeks aflame and her eyes flashing, " that I'd grow ashamed of Borak all in a minute because you're ashamed of me ? You know quite well that I am proud of him — you always knew it. You know how happy I was when I came to-day. You told me how proud I looked, and we all laughed. Why should anything have changed me ? I — I think," she said, with the sudden cadence of sadness in her tone, "it is time we were at home — Borak and me."

"And me," added Mr. Poynz. with a lofty disregard of syntax, which sounded as natural as Nora's own. " I have to cross the bog, Miss St. George. Will you give me a seat in your car ? "

It did not need his intent look into the girl's face to see the change which his proposal brought there. The flash of scorn which Tom Pennington's idea had evoked melted as by a breath, and a new, strange wonder crept into her lustrous eyes. Though she did not know who this stranger might be, instinct alone was sufficient to convince her that no one at the Vicarage would question his taste. And he had asked to drive on the car which Tom would have surreptitiously led out of sight ! He had asked to drive with the shabby girl upon whom Miss Foster had gazed with contempt ! All the warm and frank simplicity of Nora's nature resumed its sway, and her assent to his proposal was like the glad and prompt assent of a child. How comfortable they would be, one on each side of the car !

" Very comfortable," she said, aloud, more as a conclusion to her thought than in reply to his queston, as Mr Poynz left her on the off side of the car, and took the reins himself and his own seat behind her. " I hope you will like driving Borak. He goes very well indeed."

" Although perhaps his preference is for standing still," added Mark, as Borak sturdily resisted various dumb suggestions, which probably Mr. Poynz had before now found sufficient with his horses.

" He likes to stand a moment or two just to consider," intimated Nora ; " and then he won't stop again till he gets out of breath."

" That's a glorious prospect," asserted Mark, raising his hat to Miss Pennington, as Nora uttered the last of her words to the boys ; and Borak, with great solemnity, moved through the open j;ate with his unusual burden.

With an innate feeling of delicacy, for which she could not have accounted if she had tried, Nora withheld even a glance at the drawing-room windows, and even a wave of the liand, to Celia while anyone standing at those windows could see her. A gentleman was driving her, a grander gentleman than she had ever seen before, and she was sitting in luxurious idleness ; but still she never wished that Miss Foster could see and envy her.

"What?"

"I didn't speak," returned Nora, in her clear happy tones.

" Didn't you ? Why not ? "

" If I had, it would only have been to say how nice I felt. Are you comfortable there, Mr. Bull ? "

'' Except for the difficulty of restraining the natural speed of Mazeppa," observed Mark, dryly, " I should be in an exceptional state of bliss, Miss Paddy."

" Paldy ! " echoed Nora, turning to him a pair of lovely questioning eyes, over one of which the ugly ribbonless hat was gradually slipping. " My name isn't Paddy."

"Nor is mine John Bull."

" Oh, I see ! " she faltered, with a blush, which deepened and deepened, because Mr Poynz did not turn his eyes away to allow her to regain her composure. " I suppose the boys only meant to joke me. I thought it was your name, really."

"Do you like it?"

"No," she answered, honestly, and with that rich light of laughter in her eyes which is almost as rare as exceeding beauty ; " I thought it did not fit you."

" My name is Mark Poynz. Does that fit me ? "

" Not unless — please don't ask me," she added, gently. " You may be so different, that if I ever knew you very well, I should not think the same as I do now."

" If you ever know me very well," he said, quietly, as he leaned his right elbow on the well of the car, and let the reins lie carelessly in his left, with no appearance of any intention of hastening Borak, " I shall probably have grown to like the name better than I do now."

" Why ? " asked Nora, trying to balance her hat equally over both eyes.

" You are very fond of questions. Do you know you asked me half a dozen in a breath the first minute I saw you."

" Did I ? Then that showed you at once how uneducated I was, didn't it? What where they about? "

" Three more ! Do you forget what — I mean who — they were about ? "

" Yes," said Nora ; and then turned her eyes from his, to see what danger Borak had passed safely that that expression of relief

should have come into his face, "yes, I quite forg No, I

remember now ; Celia said you were a friend of Mr. Foster's, and I asked about him."

" Yes. What do you wish to know ? "

" Everything."

" Oh, is that all ? Then here it is. The Eeverend Willoughby "Foster, Curate of Heaton, is in no way different from young Will Foster, the pupil of Mr. Pennington, and the friend of Miss St. George."

The very merriest sound possible, in its gladness and its unconstraint, was Nora's laugh ; but it was as swift as it was pretty, and so no wonder her companion — who knew her so little — should smile at the sedatcness of her reply.

" It sounded odd for you to speak so of Will, yet it is the truth exactly. lie was a friend to me indeed — though he wouldn't know me as Miss St. George — and somehow, when we all got found out and scolded Will always tried to get scolded for himself and me ; do you understand ? "

" Not yet," replied Mark, meditatively. " It is a difficult situation to take in. You must have been quite a little girl even when Foster left here."

': I was nearly fourteen," returned Nora, conscientiously, " but being sis years younger than Wi — Mr. Foster, didn't take any blame from me, because whatever we did wrong was my fault. He would have been quite good by himself. Why do you laugh ? " she asked, with apprehension, for, after that brief spasm of honesty, she was again anxious for her companion's good opinion. " Were you thinking I ought never to have disturbed him at his work in those days V "

" I was thinking how little age has to do with the question at nil," returned Mark composedly. " Some natures take the lead even while in leading-strings themselves."

" Of course I should not do it now."

" Of course not."

" Mr. Poynz," said Nora, turning to him with her brows puck cred, and an unconscious wistfulness in her eyes, " why do you seem to mean more than you say ? Do you really believe that I could help to distract Mr. Foster from his work now ? "

" Indeed I don't. On the contrary, I believe you could do it without a shade of help."

" Oh, this is too bad ! " cried Nora, her lips quivering as if tears were near, yet her eyes bright with laughter. " You forget that I am grown up now."

'■ No. That is the one little fact which I remember better than you do. Do you observe that Borak has made up his mind to leave the bog, and take us to the high-road ? "

" He always remembers everything ! " she exclaimed, in pride. "He knows I should like to inquire after Micky Corr. But wouldn't you like him to trot, Mr. Poynz ? You let him walk so very, very slowly."

" I like this pace," returned Mark, placidly. " We can better distinguish the beauties of the bog than if we flew through it at Borak's usual speed."

" There are no bogs in England, are there?" questioned Nora, with a lively sense of superiority here. But before Mark had answered, the prompt question was followed by a sigh ; so he did not answer at all. He only looked straight along the road, and conveyed to Borak an unmistakeable hint that he might loiter as he chose.

" I suppose, Mr. Poynz, that all English ladies are like Miss Foster ? "

_ Exactly — Mark allowed, with a sparkle in his eyes which Nora did not see — they were all exactly alike, and Miss Foster had been sent over as a specimen.

" Will never told me," explained Nora, apologetically, " else I might have been prepared. I could see that Miss Foster was very, very clever, and she could see in a minute that I wasn't. 1 mean that I hadn't learnt anything — not a single, solitary thing ! "

" Yes, she would see that in a moment," assented Mark. " The first thing an English girl learns, is to see that sort of thing in another girl."

" They always speak a good many languages, don't they ? " inquired Nora, deep in thought.

" They do indeed — ' after the schole of Stratford atte Bowe.' "

" And they learn music ? "

"Barely. But they perform upon the piano, and vocally."

" You mean they sing ? "

" No, I did not. Then they dance "

" Oh, I can dance too ! " interposed Nora, with a sudden ring of hope in her tones. " Why do you smile ? " she added heavily. " Who it be a different kind of dancing ? "

" We shall see."

" No ; we shall never see," she said, with a grave shake of her head, " because I shall never go to England."

" That is absurd," observed Mark, \v.ith a certain tone of severity in his voice, of which he was himself unconscious. " You are an English girl ; why should you live here all your life ? "

" Grandpa says we shall," she answered gently. " He's very poor, and cannot go away."

" In-deed ! " said Mark. And then he looked round into Nora'a face, just as if he were going to laugh quite heartily.

" Sometime," sighed Nora, " I think how delightful it would be to be rich. I should do such wonderful and beautiful things if I were rich. One can't help just dreaming about things, however utterly impossible they are."

"Utterly impossible," acquiesced Mark, in his leisurely way, "unless your grandfather has_ hundreds of jars full of sovereigns hidden away, like an Irish gentleman of whom I once read?"

" But," said Nora, musingly, " there's no place to hide them at Traveere — that's where we live, Mr. Poynz, grandpa and me."

" And no one else ? "

" No one except old Kitty. No one else ever comes there. 1 go to the Vicarage whenever I can ; but Celia never comes to Traveere, and grandpa won't have the boys. He never would have Will — Mr. Foster, I mean. No," she added, as if to herself, in her soft musical tones, " no one comes but Doctor Armstrong." " May I ask who is Doctor Armstrong ? "

With both hands, Nora set the old hat straight once more, tilting it a little over her eyes ; and, while she did it, she glanced under her lifted hand into her companion's face, as if the slight change in his voice had puzzled her.

" Do you know Nuel Armstrong ? " she asked, in her grave, direct way.

" Nuel Armstrong ? Who is he ? The doctor you iust spoke of ? "

"Yes," she said, feeling this answer had been negative enough. " He is the only person that comes to Traveere. He is a relation of grandpa's, though I don't exactly know how — the only relation grandpa has, except me."

" Then he is a relation of yonrs ? "

"I think not, Mr. Poynz. I have no relation in the world except grandpa. My father and mother both died when I was a baby. They died in England ; and I was born in England — I think."

" Why do you only think?

" Because grandpa won't speak of them, or let me : I suppose it would make him sad. And no one else, of course, knows anyabout me."

Mr. Poynz was very silent after that, and in the pause Nora's eyes lost their wide, thoughtful gaze, and went across to him once more. How curious it was for him — a stranger — to be driving her along the old familiar road — a stranger, and so different from any gentleman she had ever seen before ! Should she be able to tell her grandfather what he was like ? How could she begin ? Was he young ? Surely young, yet how could he have so much gray in his hair and moustache ? They quite looked as if they wera speckled black and white ; and yet his hair was so thick, and looked so different from — " He looks," thought Nora, with one conclusive glance, " like a soldier looks, I should think, when he comes from the battle-field, and takee off his helmet."

" Well," inquired Mark, coolly, " are you objecting to th6 length of my nose ? "

" I — I was only," faltered Nora, with a vivid blush, her eyes shy and timorous, yet still with something fearless in their depths, "thinking of how I should describe you to grandpa."

" You cannot do it ; you must take me on to Traveere to

show me."

" Please, Mr. Poynz," begged Nora, in a very evident panic, "don't come to Traveere. It is — it won't be any pleasure."

" Is this the cottage at which Borak intends to stop ? inquired Mr. Poynz, as they came in sight of a cabin on the roadside.

And Nora, grateful for not having been forced to explain her last entreaty, nodded her affirmative, and then, springing lightly to the ground almost before the car had stopped, entered the cabin.

Beside the little pile of turf which smouldered on the stones, a young Irishman stood with his hands in his pockets, now and then pushing together the clods of turf with one foot, and staring morosely at the little spouts of flame ; with his back turned to the window, near which his younger brother, a delicate-looking lad of about twenty, sat leaning his head wearily against the wall.