Sophy of Kravonia: A Novel. Hope Anthony

Lady Margaret Duddington," she whispered, rather in a fright. There was time for no more. Lady Meg was upon them. Sophy was identified by her dress, and, to Lady Meg's devouring eyes, by the mark.

      "You're the girl who's been behaving so badly?" she said.

      Seeing no profit in arguing the merits, Sophy answered "Yes."

      At this point Julia observed one old gentleman nudge the other and whisper something; it is morally certain that Pindar whispered to Pikes: "Percival's girl!"

      "You seem to like your own way. What are you going to do? Say you're sorry?"

      "No. I'm not sorry. I'm going away."

      "Come here, girl, let me look at you."

      Sophy obeyed, walking up to Lady Meg and fixing her eyes on her face. She was interested, not frightened, as it seemed. Lady Meg looked long at her.

      "Going away? Where to?"

      Julia spoke up. "She's coming with me, please, Lady Margaret." Julia, it would seem, was a little frightened.

      "Who are you?"

      "Julia Robins. My mother lives there." She pointed to Woodbine Cottage. "I – I'm on the stage – "

      "Lord help you!" remarked Lady Meg, disconcertingly.

      "Not at all!" protested Julia, her meaning plain, her expression of it faulty. "And I – I'm going to help her to – to get an engagement. We're friends."

      "What's she going to do with that on the stage?" Lady Meg's forefinger almost touched the mark.

      "Oh, that's all right, Lady Margaret. Just a little cold cream and powder – "

      "Nasty stuff!" said Lady Meg.

      A pause followed, Lady Meg still studying Sophy's face. Then, without turning round, she made a remark obviously addressed to the gentlemen behind her:

      "I expect this is Percival's young person."

      "Without a doubt," said Pikes.

      "And Percival was right about her, too," said Pindar.

      "Think so? I ain't sure yet," said Lady Meg. "And at any rate I don't care twopence about that. But – " A long pause marked a renewed scrutiny. "Your name's Sophy, isn't it?"

      "Yes." Sophy hesitated, then forced out the words: "Sophy Grouch."

      "Grouch?"

      "I said Grouch."

      "Humph! Well, Sophy, don't go on the stage. It's a poor affair, the stage, begging Miss Julia's pardon – I'm sure she'll do admirably at it. But a poor affair it is. There's not much to be said for the real thing – but it's a deal better than the stage, Sophy."

      "The real thing?" Julia saw Sophy's eyes grow thoughtful.

      "The world – places – London – Paris – men and women – Lord help them! Come with me, and I'll show you all that."

      "What shall I do if I come with you?"

      "Do? Eat and drink, and waste time and money, like the rest of us. Eh, Pindar?"

      "Of course," said Mr. Pindar, with a placid smile.

      "I sha'n't be a – a servant again?"

      "Everybody in my house is a slave, I'm told, but you won't be more of a slave than the rest."

      "Will you have me taught?"

      Lady Meg looked hard at her. For the first time she smiled, rather grimly. "Yes, I'll have you taught, and I'll show you the Queen of England, and, if you behave yourself, the Emperor of the French – Lord help him!"

      "Not unless she behaves herself!" murmured Mr. Pindar.

      "Hold your tongue, Pindar! Now, then, what do you say? No, wait a minute; I want you to understand it properly." She became silent for a moment. Julia was thinking her a very rude woman; but, since Mr. Pindar did not mind, who need?

      Lady Meg resumed. "I won't make an obligation of you – I mean, I won't be bound to you; and you sha'n't be bound to me. You'll stay with me as long as you like, or as long as I like, as the case may be. If you want to go, put your visiting-card – yes, you'll have one – in an envelope and send it to me. And if I want you to go, I'll put a hundred-pound note in an envelope and send it to you – upon which you'll go, and no reasons given! Is it agreed?"

      "It sounds all right," said Sophy.

      "Did you always have that mark on your cheek?"

      "Yes, always. Father told me so."

      "Well, will you come?"

      Sophy was torn. The stage was very attractive, and the love she had for Julia Robins held her as though by a cord. But was the stage a poor thing? Was that mysterious "real thing" better? Though even of that this strange woman spoke scornfully. Already there must have been some underground channel of understanding between them; for Sophy knew that Lady Meg was more than interested in her – that she was actually excited about her; and Lady Meg, in her turn, knew that she played a good card when she dangled before Sophy's eyes the Queen of England and the Emperor of the French – though even then came that saving "Lord help him!" to damp an over-ardent expectation.

      "Let me speak to Julia," said Sophy. Lady Meg nodded; the girls linked arms and walked apart. Pindar came to Lady Meg's elbow.

      "Another whim!" said he, in a low voice. Pikes was looking round the view with a kind of vacant contentment.

      "Yes," she said. His lips moved. "I know what you said. You said: 'You old fool!' Pindar."

      "Never, on my life, my lady!" They seemed more friends now than patroness and client. Few saw them thus, but Pindar told Dunstanbury, and the old gentleman was no liar.

      "Give me one more!" she whispered, plainly excited. "That mark must mean something. It may open a way."

      "For her?" he asked, smiling.

      "It must for her. It may for me."

      "A way where?"

      "To knowledge – knowledge of the unknown. They may speak through her!"

      "Lady Meg! Lady Meg! And if they don't, the hundred-pound note! It's very cruel."

      "Who knows? – who knows, Pindar? Fate has her ways."

      He shrugged his shoulders and smiled. "Not half as amusing as your ladyship's!"

      Sophy, twenty yards off, flung her arms round Julia. The embrace was long; it spoke farewell. Lady Meg's eyes brightened. "She's coming with me," she said. Pindar shrugged his shoulders again and fell back to heel. Sophy walked briskly up.

      "I'll come, my lady," she said.

      "Good. To-morrow afternoon – to London. Mrs. Brownlow has the address. Good-bye." She turned abruptly on her heel and marched off, her retinue following.

      Julia came to Sophy.

      "We can write," she said. "And she's right. You must be for the real thing, Sophy!"

      "My dear, my dear!" murmured Sophy, half in tears. "Yes, we must write." She drew back and stood erect. "It's all very dark," she said. "But I like it. London – and Paris! On the Seine!" Old lessons came back with new import now.

      "The Emperor of the French!" Julia mocked – with tears in her eyes.

      A sudden thought occurred to Sophy. "What did she mean by 'Percival's young person'? Is his name Percival?"

      Julia gave a little cry. "Lord Dunstanbury's? Yes. You've seen him again?"

      She drew out the story. It made the sorrow of parting half forgotten.

      "You owe this to him, then! How romantic!" was actress Julia's conclusion – in part a true one, no doubt. But Sophy, looking deeper, fingered the Red Star. She had tracked the magnet of Lady Meg's regard, the point of her interest, the pivot of decision for that mind of whims.

      V

      THE VISION OF "SOMETHING BRIGHT"

      With that scene in the avenue of elm-trees at Morpingham