Peggy threw back her head and surveyed him deliberately from the crown of his head to the tip of his shoes, from his shoes up again until the hazel eyes met his with a mocking light.

"I did not expect--I _hoped_; but I see that even that was a mistake!

Good afternoon, Major Darcy, and many thanks for your polite a.s.surances!

It is gratifying to discover exactly how much they are worth."

She sailed away with her head in the air, leaving Hector to pace the deck with a frown of thunderous ill-temper disfiguring his handsome countenance. It was annoying to be worsted by an antagonist of such small dimensions, but, astonishing as it appeared, he invariably got the worst of it in a conflict with Peggy Saville!

CHAPTER FOUR.

The next two weeks pa.s.sed away all too quickly. The latter part of the voyage had been chill and stormy, so that when Ma.r.s.eilles was reached, Hector Darcy was seized with a conviction that it would be injudicious for him to risk the dangers of an English spring, and that wisdom pointed out a preliminary sojourn in the sunny South. This being the case, it was only natural that he should betake himself to the hotel where his friends the Savilles were located, and so make a convenient fourth in their excursions. It would have been difficult to find a pleasanter party with whom to travel, for father, mother, and daughter were all in holiday mood, rejoicing in the prospect of home, and a reunion with that redoubtable Arthur, whose exploits and excellences were detailed a dozen times a day. They were so happy together, moreover, and there was so friendly an understanding between them, that they made an agreeable contrast to those numerous family parties who reduce a stranger to a condition of misery by their mutual bickerings.

So far from labouring under the impression that any manners were good enough for the members of their own family, the Saville trio were even more punctiliously courteous to each other than to strangers, and that despite the fact that parents and child were on terms of much greater intimacy than is usual in such relationships.

Peggy's pride in her father was beautiful to behold, and in the presence of strangers she paid him a respect so profound that those same strangers would have been vastly surprised if they could have seen her rumpling his hair in private, and tying his moustache in a neat little festoon round his nose, while mother and daughter never seemed to outgrow the joy of being together again after the years of separation.

"Oh, my Peg, what should I do without you?" Mrs Saville would cry on those too frequent occasions when a recurrence of the weary Indian fever came upon her, and Peggy nursed and comforted her as no hired attendant could ever do. "Oh, my Peg, what should I do without you? What _shall_ I do, when you leave me to fly away to a home of your own? You have spoiled me so much during these last years that I don't know what will become of me without you, darling."

"I shall never marry, dear," returned Peggy comfortably. "I'll stay at home like a good little girl, and wheel my mammie in a Bath chair.

Marriage is a luxury which is forbidden to an only daughter. Her place is to stay at home and look after her parents!" But at this Mrs Saville looked alarmed, and shook her head in emphatic protest.

"No, no--that's a wrong idea! I want you to marry, dear, when the right time comes. I have been too happy myself to wish to keep you single.

Marriage is the best thing that can happen to a woman, if her husband is as good and kind and n.o.ble as your father. I'm not selfish enough to spoil your life for my own benefit, Peggy; but when the times comes, remember I shall be very, very particular about the man you choose."

"Where, and how, shall I earliest meet him?

What are the words that he first will say?"

chanted Peggy, with so disastrous an attempt at the correct tune that Mrs Saville shook with laughter, despite the pain in her head, and Hector Darcy, entering the room, demanded to know the nature of the joke.

"I was singing a little ditty, and mother derided me, as usual. People always laugh when I sing, and declare that the tune is wrong. They don't seem to understand that I'm improving on the original. We were discussing my future husband, and the serenade was in his honour,"

explained Peggy with an unconscious serenity, at which her two companions exchanged glances of astonishment.

"He is quite an imaginary hero as yet," Mrs Saville explained hastily, "but the subject having been introduced, I was explaining to Peggy that I should be extremely difficult to satisfy, and could not consent to spare her to a man who did not come up to my ideal in every respect."

"And Peggy herself--what does she say? Has she an ideal, too, and what shape does it take, if one may ask?" queried Hector, with an embarra.s.sment of manner which the mother noticed, if the daughter did not.

Mrs Saville shaded her eyes with her hands and gazed keenly across the room to where the two figures stood in the window, the man so tall and imposing, the girl so small and dainty in her pretty white dress.

"Oh, I'm not exacting," said Peggy coolly. "I'm going to marry a man with 'heaps of money and a moustache, and a fireplace in the hall,' as Mellicent used to say when we planned out our future in the old school- days. Dear old Mill! I wonder if she is as funny as ever, and if she still mixes up her sentences in the same comical way. I shall be terribly disappointed if she doesn't. Five, six more weeks before I see her and all the other vicarage people, and already I'm in a ferment of impatience. Every mile we travel nearer home, the more I long for the time to come; and when we get to London I really don't know how I shall last out the fortnight before I go down to the country."

"Would it help matters if we invited Mellicent to come and join us in London? She would enjoy the experience of living in an hotel and house- hunting with us. You can write and ask her, dear, if you like," said Mrs Saville fondly; and Peggy clasped her hands together in one of the old ecstatic gestures.

"How s-imply lovely! Mother dear, you are an admirable person. There is nothing in the world I should like so much, and it would be so wise, too, for Mellicent and I would have time to get through our first floodgates of talk before I met the others, so that I should not be torn asunder by wanting to speak to every one at the same time. It will be a wild dissipation for the dear old girl to stay in an hotel, and she does enjoy herself so beamingly when she is out for a holiday that it's a pleasure to behold her. I'll write this very minute!"

The invitation was despatched forthwith, and such a rhapsodical acceptance received by return of post as effectually dispelled Peggy's fears lest her friend might have outgrown her old peculiarities.

Mellicent at twenty-one was apparently as gushingly outspoken, as amazingly irrelevant, as in the days of short frocks and frizzled locks, and the expectation of meeting her in four short weeks lent added zest to Peggy's enjoyment of her new surroundings.

The headquarters of this happy party was at an hotel situated on the hill behind Cannes, and every morning a carriage waited at the door, to drive them to the different places of interest in the neighbourhood.

They bought curious plaques and vases at the Vallauris pottery, went over the scent manufactory at Gra.s.se, where mountains of rose leaves and violets are converted into fragrant perfumes, and drove along the exquisite Cornichi road, which winds round the hillside, and affords a view of the Mediterranean lying below, blue as a sapphire in the summer sunshine. In the afternoons Mrs Saville would retire to rest, tired out by the morning's exertions, and Peggy would say plaintively:

"Father dear, could you bear the reflections that your only daughter was pining for an ice and a box of chocolates, and that you had refused to indulge her for the sake of a few miserable rupees!" and the colonel invariably replying in the negative, she would array herself in her smartest frock, and repair with him to Rumpelmeyer's, who, as every one who has stayed in the Riviera knows full well, is at once the most wonderful and the most extortionate confectioner who ever tempted the appet.i.tes of men.

At every visit Peggy and her father groaned afresh at the price of the bonbons displayed so daintily in their satin boxes; but though they agreed that it was impossible to indulge any more in such extravagance, they invariably succ.u.mbed to temptation, the colonel ejaculating, "It's a poor heart that never rejoices. We shall be young only once in our lives, Peg, so we might as well enjoy ourselves while we can," and Peggy explaining to her scandalised mother that the expenditure was really an economy in the end, since she would keep all the pretty cases, fill them with jujubes, and present them as Christmas presents to deserving friends!

At Paris Hector Darcy bade his friends farewell, and Peggy bore his departure in philosophical fashion. It had been delightful having his company, for it had seemed like a "bit of home," but he would have been dreadfully in the way in Paris, where the avowed business of the day was the purchase of clothes and fripperies. Mrs Saville and her daughter prepared for the fray with every appearance of enjoyment, and though the colonel professed a horror of shopping, he yet manifested an agreeable interest in their purchases.

"I can't afford to give you _carte blanche_, with all the expenses of the new house before us," he explained, "but one or two pretty frocks apiece you must and shall have, while we are on the spot; so go ahead and make yourself smart, and I'll brace my nerves to face the bill."

There was no fear that Miss Peggy would not go ahead in such an occupation. The only difficulty was that she went ahead too fast; but by dint of forbearance, mingled with judicious firmness, the choice was made at last, and in due time the dresses came home, the bills were paid, and Colonel Saville, blessing Providence that he had not six women to dress instead of two, hurried on the day of departure from a city of such ruinous fascinations.

On one happy spring morning, then, behold the Saville trio once more nearing the white cliffs of Old England--blessed travellers, whose exile was over, and who could look forward to spending the rest of their lives in that dear old country which, despite its rain and fog, must ever be the dearest in the world to true-born Britons.

They stood together, amidst the bustle of arrival, looking with sparkling eyes at the well-remembered scene, for there was no necessity to hurry for the train, and Colonel Saville, with all a soldier's intolerance of a scramble, decided to wait on board until the general exodus was over. "Then we will get a porter to take our boxes quietly ash.o.r.e," he explained to his companions; and, as if his words had been overheard, at that very moment a candidate for that post came up from behind.

"Carry your boxes, sir? Can I carry your boxes?" cried a breezy voice, at the sound of which Peggy gasped, Mrs Saville laid her hand over her heart, and the colonel wheeled round to confront Arthur himself, taller, broader, handsomer than ever.

"My boy!" he cried brokenly.

"Arthur!" gasped his mother, and lay sobbing on the dear, strong shoulder, while Peggy stroked the tails of his coat, and a.s.siduously licked away the tears which would insist upon flowing down her cheeks.

Why cry, when she was so happy? The thing was absurd! Why do anything but laugh, and dance, and sing with mirth, when at long, long last they were all four together, and Arthur stood before her in solid flesh and blood?

"How tall you are! Taller than your father, my dear big son!"

"How good it is to see you again, my boy! We have wearied for this day."

"Oh, Arthur, what a big moustache! What a dear you look! We never, never expected to see you before we got to London."

"I was not sure of coming, but I worked it somehow, for I could not wait an hour longer than was necessary. Peg, you're a lady growed! I looks towards you! Oh, let us be joyful! This is grand to be together again, with no more miserable partings ahead. Welcome to England, mother!

First step on the old land--eh? Feels nice and sound beneath your feet, doesn't it? Just the sort of solid, durable old place to take root in after a roaming life!" And Arthur led his mother on sh.o.r.e, rattling away in his old merry style, though the tears shone in his eyes also, and his voice was not so clear as it might have been.

The years that had pa.s.sed since he had seen his parents last had not been altogether easy ones for him. He had had to face the bitterest disappointment of his life, to adapt himself to a new and uncongenial sphere, and, in spite of all his courage, there had been moments when the task had seemed too heavy to bear. It had been an effort to write cheerfully, and to refrain from repinings over his lost hopes, but he had made the effort, and he was rewarded for his forbearance a hundred times over in this moment of meeting, as he noticed the hollows in his mother's cheeks, and the grey locks on his father's brow. It had been hard enough for them as it was. He was thankful he had not laid on them the additional burden of his own sufferings.

The reunited family travelled up to town together, and dined in a private room in the hotel, so that they might be able to talk without interruption. Arthur was, of course, the hero of the occasion, and was handed about from one to another of his adoring relatives in a manner which would have been amusing to an onlooker. First of all Mrs Saville claimed him, and they sat on the sofa together, stroking each other's hands like a charming pair of lovers, as a mother and grown-up son should always be. Then she cast an apologetic glance at her husband, and made an excuse to move her position, when Colonel Saville took possession of his "boy," and the two tall figures leant against the mantelpiece talking "manny talk," as Peggy expressed it, and smoking their cigarettes. Finally it was Peggy's own turn, and she sat perched on Arthur's knee, gazing into the dear, handsome face which had always been her ideal of manly beauty.

"Fancy, Arthur, just fancy, we are grown-up ladies and gentlemen! I am twenty-one, and you are twenty-six! Doesn't it seem wonderful? You look so handsome, dear, so big and important! I suppose you are important, aren't you? What is your chief like? Does he appreciate you? Does he defer sufficiently to your advice? Between ourselves, the English Government isn't so well managed as I could wish. There is a want of firmness in dealing with Foreign Powers which annoys me greatly.

Next time you get into a muddle at the War Office, just tell them to apply to me, and I'll set them straight! If I could get the chance of being Minister of War for a couple of days, I'd settle them! No shilly- shally for me I I'd show them how the thing ought to be done!"--and Peggy wagged her head in a fierce and defiant manner, which sent Arthur into a peal of laughter.

"Not any more burdened by modesty than you used to be, I perceive, young lady. I'll be pleased to pa.s.s on your message. The chief is a conscientious fellow, and feels his responsibility so much that it will doubtless be a relief to him to know that Peggy Saville is to the rescue. I'll introduce you to him some time soon, when you can have an opportunity of airing your views."

"I should like that. I suppose we shall have any amount of invitations when we are really settled, but just at first we want to devote all our energies to house-hunting. We are going to drive to the agent's first thing to-morrow morning, to see what he has to offer us, and then Mellicent arrives in the afternoon. You knew she was coming, didn't you, and that I am going home with her at the end of a fortnight?"

Arthur chuckled softly to himself.

"Chubby in London! What delirious excitement! I must try to go about with you sometimes, for it will be great to hear her remarks. She has never been in town for more than a few hours at a time on a shopping expedition, and has everything to see. Chubby has developed into a very creditable specimen, I'd have you know, and she don't appreciate being called Chubby no more. Consequently, I make a point of addressing her by no other name! When she gets into a rage she looks surprisingly like the fat little girl of a dozen years back."

"Too bad!" cried Peggy, laughing. "None of that sort of thing while she is here, remember! No one shall tease my visitors but myself. I'm simply longing to see the dear old girl, and hear all the news about everybody. Rob is at The Cedars, they say, so I must wait to see him there, but Rosalind is in town. Oh, Arthur, do you see much of her? Do you meet her often? Is she a great beauty, and does every one talk about her and make a fuss of her wherever she goes, as we used to imagine they would do when she grew up? Do tell me all about Rosalind!"

Arthur's face stiffened in a curious, unnatural fashion, and his lips lost their laughing curve, and grew straight and hard. The sparkle died out of his face, and he looked a boy no longer, but a man, and a man who had not found his life too easy. He was astonishingly like his father at that moment, and both mother and sister noted the fact.