Chapter VI: The Visit

Putting some constraint upon themselves, we are sorry to say, Lady Dunkeld and her daughter on the following afternoon drove over to Birkwoodbrae, and sent in their cards to Mary and Ellinor Wellwood, who were busy in their little drawing-room with some piles of freshly-cut flowers; and though both were startled--or certainly surprised--by this unusual visit, nothing of that emotion was perceptible in their manner; yet the arrival of the London carriage, with its showy hammercloth, with the Dunkeld arms on the panels, a row of plated coronets round the top, the elaborate 'snobbery,' if we may call it so, of rank--Scottish rank, too often without patriotism--was there--excited something akin to terror among the old servants; and the way in which one of the tall 'matched footmen' pulled the door bell, and the other banged down the carriage steps, went quite 'upon the nerves' of old Elspat Gordon, and the visitors sailed in, displaying those perfect toilettes which were suited to the Row, and which London alone can produce.

The beauty of the day, of the weather generally, more than all the beauty of Birkwoodbrae and its garden, 'which seemed quite a love of a place, with all its roses and flowers,' were all discoursed on rapidly and fluently by Lady Dunkeld and Blanche Galloway, while their observant eyes took in every detail of the sisters, their appearance, dress, and surroundings, with all of which they felt secretly bound to admit that no solid fault could be found, though the carpets, hangings, and so forth had certainly seen better times.

'We are to have a garden-party in a few days, Miss Wellwood,' said Lady Dunkeld, 'and hope to have the pleasure of seeing you and Miss Ellinor. Lest you might be out, I have brought your cards; but, being a country gathering, it will be, I fear, rather a tame affair,' she added, smiling, as she laid the embossed and scented missives on the table.

Mary's long lashes quivered as she glanced at Ellinor. Both bowed an assent, and murmured thanks, adding that they led very quiet lives now, and seldom went much abroad.

'What are you making with all these beautiful flowers?' asked Blanche Galloway; 'two funeral chaplets apparently.'

'They are so--green ivy leaves, white roses, and lily of the valley,' replied Mary.

'For what purpose?'

'To lay on the graves of papa and mamma. To-morrow is the anniversary of her death--she died in summer, papa in winter,' she added, with the slightest perceptible break in her voice.

'Oh, indeed; how good of you!' murmured Lady Dunkeld.

'How pretty!' cooed her daughter, one of those young ladies so carefully trained as to think it 'awfully bad form' to betray any emotion or feeling that was in any way natural.

'Sir Redmond Sleath was so enchanted with your drawings, Miss Ellinor,' said Lady Dunkeld, to change the subject, as woful ones were eminently distasteful to her. 'He is never weary of singing their praises.'

This was not strictly true, for the baronet had just barely mentioned the matter once, but poor Ellinor blushed with real pleasure.

'He is very good-natured,' said Miss Galloway, lest the listener might value Sir Redmond's praises too highly; 'but fastidious--oh, very fastidious. Don't you think he has handsome eyes?'

'I did not observe them.'

'Indeed! They are a lovely blue.'

'I never before heard a man's eyes called lovely,' said Mary, laughing.

'And he is such a flirt!'

'Blanche, child!' expostulated her mother.

'But he has strange ideas--people say he will never marry,' added the 'child,' who was determined that, whatever Ellinor might think, she was not to flatter herself that she had made anything approaching a conquest. 'He has been everywhere, and, of course, has seen everything.'

'And is a male flirt, you say?' said Mary, smiling.

'Too awfully so; but then, most of the young ladies he knows are not disinclined to a little flirtation, and can take very good care of themselves.'

As Miss Galloway spoke, there was the slightest derisive erection of her delicate eyebrows, and the pointed intonation of mockery in her well-bred voice. All this was meant for Ellinor's edification, and she did not entirely forget it; but to Mary there seemed something discordant, flippant, and strange in thus discussing a visitor's ways or character.

'We all travelled together,' said Lady Dunkeld, 'and came straight from London to Perth. As for tarrying in Edinburgh, that was not to be thought of.'

'Of course not,' added Blanche, shrugging her shoulders. 'I don't think even Captain Colville with all his patriotism could stand the dulness, the narrow ideas, and the bad style of people there. All provincial towns are so unbearable after London.'

Mary Wellwood resented, but silently, their ungracious remarks. Her memories of Edinburgh were experiences never to be forgotten; and she thought of the lovely valley gardens, the veritable river of greenery under the vast Castle Rock, the glorious white terraces of the New Town, the dark and history-haunted masses of the Old--the Regalia, Mons Meg, and all the rest of it, as she had seen them in the happiest days of her girlhood; and she felt pleased when Lady Dunkeld said:

'Captain Colville had not been there for years; and he _was_ disposed to stay a day or two behind us.'

'Surely not for the sake of any beauty he saw,' exclaimed Blanche, laughing; 'but in many ways he is very different from Sir Redmond.'

He was indeed, we are glad to say; but in what particular manner the Hon. Blanche referred to, the sisters were not fated to know, as Lady Dunkeld now rose, the carriage was summoned, and saying with one of her sweet but stereotyped smiles, 'we shall expect to see you at our little affair, gave them the tips of her gloved fingers and swept away.

Mary and Ellinor looked at each other with a little expression of surprise and bewilderment in their faces, and both felt that Blanche Galloway had, to say the least of it, disappointed them by her general style.

Their emotions varied--one moment they felt flattered and pleased by the recognition of their own position and that once held by their parents in society which the sudden visit from the ladies of the great house implied.

At another moment they felt the reverse--feared they were being patronised, and thought they should decline the invitation.

Yet why?

To do so would be, perhaps, to adopt the position of an inferior; and the invitation might be the result of real kindness of heart, after all.

They knew not that they were indebted for the whole affair chiefly to a few friendly remarks made by Lord Dunkeld, and more especially by Leslie Colville, though those of the latter caused some afterthoughts.

'Men are very weak,' surmised Lady Dunkeld; 'but, of course, a man in Captain Colville's position can mean nothing more than simplest kindness, but the girls are pretty--unfortunately for themselves, I think, more than pretty.'

The pride, admiration, and half-alarm of Elspat Gordon and other old servitors on the subject of the visit, which proved their nine days' wonder, amused while it annoyed Mary. She had her own ideas--it might be fears for the future--and, though she said little, she thought a good deal.

The acceptances were written and despatched; and costumes were the next thing to be considered for the entertainment, of which Robert Wodrow heard the tidings with a very dark expression in his face indeed.

'Of what are you thinking, Ellinor?' asked Mary, softly, seeing the dark eyes of her sister fixed apparently on vacancy.

'Only of how differently the lives of some of us are allotted, and how pleasantly some people are circumstanced, compared with others.'

'Meaning ourselves and such as Blanche Galloway?'

'Well, yes.'

'Never mind, Ellinor dear,' replied Mary; 'I always say, blessed be God for all His gifts,' she added, thinking of the legend over the old doorway.