Complete Story. "Diana Needs a Change."

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXIX, Issue XX, 15 November 1902, Page 1221

Complete Story. "Diana Needs a Change."

“Yes,” said Mrs. Vereker, in answer to a remark made by one of her visitors, “Diana does, perhaps, look pale. I think,” rather drily, “that Diana needs a change.” And she glanced across the room to where her daughter sat on the window-seat in a listless attitude, listening to the conversation of a nice-looking boy who was nervously fingering an ivory paper-knife. She was a pretty, fair girl, with soft brown eyes, that, could at times assume a very bored expression. Just now this expression was peculiarly intensified. Her mother’s words reached her across the buzz of conversational platitudes that constitute an "at home” day, and she gave her fair little head an almost imperceptible toss. '

Perhaps Mrs. Vereker's words conveyed more to her daughter than they appeared to do. The guests thinned aawy. An obviously reluctant young man relinquished the paper-knife, and said his good-byes with a regret in no way reciprocated by Miss Vereker. She lay back idly in her corner of the windowseat, and contemplated the toe of a neat shoe. Presently she and her mother were alone.

“Diana,” said Mrs. Vereker severely. “May I ask whether you intend to marry Sir Eustace Legh?” Diana smiled innocently. He hasn’t asked me to,” she replied. Her mother frowned. This was merely trifling. “And you know the reason why he has never asked you,” she said reproachfully, “when you snub the poor boy so unmercifully, as you do. And he is absolutely charming, and .rood-looking, and rich.” She paused to watch the effect of this enumeration of Sir Eustace’s charms. Apparently it was nil. Diana still smiled provokingly. “I hate an idle man, and a rich man, and a man whose praise is in everyone’s mouth,” she said at length; “I think, if I ever marry, it shall be a poor man. It would be an interesting experiment.” Mrs. Vereker absolutely gasped. She had no words to combat these absolutely unexpected statements. Diana, brought up in the proverbial lap of luxury,whose helplessness was a by-word in her own family, to talk of poverty as “an interesting experiment!”

It was a subject of which Mrs. Vereker knew nothing, and therefore felt all the more strongly. “I really think, Diana,” she said as seriously as was compatible with a nature which took nothing seriously excepe the thought of poverty, “that you must be feeling run down, and in want of a change, to talk such absolute nonsense, my dear.” And that evening she took counsel with her husband, the result of which was the following letter despatched to an alderly cousin, Miss Ursula Mortimer by name, who owned a little property in the Midlands. “909, Cadogan Square. “My Dear Ursula,” —it ran—“l want you to do me a favour. Diana is looking pale and tired, and needs a change. It’s impossible for me to leave town until we go home in July —I have so many engagements to fulfil, and there are yet four weeks to dispose of. Will you have the child with you? She is, as you know, devoted to you, and would rejoice at the prospect of- a visit to Centre shire. “Your affectionate cousin. “ELEANOR VEREKER. “P.S. —I suppose you have still the same neighbours, or lack of them? I have no wish for Diana to go into much society;, it is quiet that sic wants.” To which letter Miss Mortimer, a lady of keen perception and some

humour, despatched the following reply:— “Glenallen, Centreshire. “My Dear Eleanor, —I shall be delighted to have Diana here, and will expect her next Friday by the 5.30 train, on, I hope, a visit of some weeks. I can ensure her having perfect quiet and rest while with me, our only neighbours within twelve miles being, at present, the Thorntons, of Thornleigh. Miss Thornton is, as I think you know, an invalid, and tied to her sofa while her brother, who is a most estimable young man with red hair, spectacles, and a stammer, is entirely occupied with his horses and farms. “Your affectionate cousin, “URSULA MORTIMER.’’

Diana expressed herself entirely satisfied with this plan. She was bored with London—“a girl in her second season,” as Mrs Vereker would plaintively remark —and felt in no ■way inclined to fall in with her mother’s and Sir Eustace’s matrimonial wishes. She liked him; so much she admitted to herself whenever she seriously considered the subject, but she had no particular feeling about him, except that he was pleasant to talk to. If his devotion had been less obvious, it is probable that Sir Eustace might have obtained a kinder reception. Diana had grown careless over a prize so evidently within her reach. Absence from town for a while would put things in a different light. Diana would learn to appreciate, in the

solitude of Centreshire —a delightful spot that Mrs Vereker stigmatised as “deadly”—the good things she had left behind in Ixmdon, Sir Eustace Legh and the trifling distinctions appertaining to him in the form of a title and a prospective fortune, being amongst these good things. So argued to herself Diana’s mother, and forthwith the girl started with her maid for Glenallen, and Sir Eustace’s face was a study in complex emotions when next he called at Cadogan Square. “It is so delightful to get out of town in this heat," remarked Mrs Vereker, cheerfully mendacious. “I feel sure my little girl will benefit by the change.” And as Sir Eustace Legh walked disconsolately club wards that evening, he felt that Mrs Vereker was perfectly right. London was hot, and horrible, and uninteresting, and full of fools that no fellow cared twopence about, and .this foolish young man carried himself so disconsolately at the various parties he attended that evening that the hopes of more than one mother of marriageable daughters rose high. Such symptoms were uumistakeable. Sir Eustace had fallen a victim to someone’s charms. The question was—whose? Was it Rose, or Kathleen, or ? Only Mrs Vereker, smiling to herself with the smile of conscious knowledge, did not need to ask herself this question. "We will walk over to tea at Thornleigh this afternoon.” said Miss Mortimer, the day after Diana’s arrival at Glenallen.

The girl assented without enthusiasm. It was not her first visit to Glenallen, nor, consequently to rhornleigb, and the Thornton family had not especially excited her. But, her mind being in a decided state of "laisser-aller,” this visit seemed as suitable an ■occupation as any for a delicious June afternoon. And so they started across the summerscented fields. "Do you call those suitable country shoes. Diana?” inquired her cousin

presently, with some amusement in her tone.

Diana glanced down at a dainty buckled shoe, whieh had started existence in Bond-street with a view to remaining within a twelve miles' radius of that spot, and whieh nowfound itself required to tread the uneven paths of a grassy Midland field. The girl glanced from her shoe to her cousin’s amused face. Miss Ursula Mortimer was tall and angular, and her shoes were of the type advertised as “our mannish model”; obviously, too, they were built for use before beauty. Her plain serge dress and mushroom hat seemed to have inherited the same business-like principles, and an enormous sun umbrella made Diana’s dainty blue parasol look absurdly cockneyfied. “I hate thick shoes.” said the girl, with a tiny grimace, “1 hardly ever wear them, even at home. Lilian does, but then she loves puking into the farms and places which I hate.” “And what happens, my dear Di., when it rains? Diana glanced up in surprise. “When it rains?” she repeated; “oh. I never go out in the country when it rains.” Thornleigh was an attractive-look-ing old manor house, ivy-covered and gabled, whieh had been owned bv Thorntons froln time immemorial. 1 he present owner was a bachelor, and lived there with his invalid sister, his senior by some ten years. - John Thornton's looks were not his strong point. He was an oldlooking young man of eight-and-twenty, with hair and complexion of a dull red, while his eyes, which were strangely blue and honest, looked out on to a world whieh failed to discover their worth through the medium of smoked glasses. He was terribly shy in ladies’ society, and while it was his sister’s one wish to see him married, she had little hope of his ever summoning up sufficient courage to ever attain to an engagement. “And then, my dear Ursula,” she would remark, in moments of confidence, “this property would go, at John’s death,,to a cousin about whom

we really know very little, though he was at Harrow with m\ bro.her.'* So when Diana Verier appeared in her fresh girlish prettine-s to spend a month al (ilenallen. M ss I hornton's hopes rose,high. Ihornleigh ami (il« n .lien were only a mile apart across the fields, ..ml during the next ten da., s there were constant meeting" Intwteii the iw ■> house.*. John Thornton's shyness began to evaporate before the sunshine of Diana’s easv friendliness, and though hi> conversational powers never rose tar above the expression of hopes connected with the hav. or the p.i-'Si* biliiv of a good fruit season, it was evident that hr btgan to like the ••al's companionship. And Miss ibt.inton from her sofa or hath chair smiled and noted a goal deal, and Miss Mortimer, endued with her keener p<Teept ions, noted more, and did not >inile. Fur she siw, with that intuition onlv granted to son e women. that while Diana was playing a game in iniiiwiil jest. U John i h>ii nt<»n it wa> deadly earned. Diana had been at Glenallen rather more than a fortnight when she received a letter from her mother rather more underlined and exclamatorv than usual, which is saying a good deal for the Hon. Mrs Vereker’s style of penmanship. After a di-sertnt on on her feelings of loneliness in her daughter's absence a loneline-s which five din-ner-parties. three “at homes.” and a state concei t had apparently failed to mitigate Mrs Verei.er went on: •’Such an extraordinary thing has happened! All London is talking of it. Yon know, of course, that Sir Eustace la gh. being old General Grant s godson. It s Deen brought up to coiiMiicr hin-elf the old man's heir, and as the Legh property is so encumbered it was a mercy. Well, there has been a terrible scene! It seem> that Lie General —he always was an old tart .r demanded that Sir Eustace should marry that deadly < nil cousin of his. Janet Gr.»nt. n.erely because <he is a cousin of tin* i.eneral’s. and poor ami so he th..ught he would ki.l two birds with <>ne stone b\ marrv ing her to his ht ir. You know her. Di., red-haired, freckled, .iiid deadly du.l! Naturally. Sir Eustace. not b. ing yet in his dotage as his g. blather seems to b *. refused point blank. I’he result of which was that the General forbade him the house ami von w JI hardly b lieve it the next day made a will in favour of Janet Grant, leaving absolutely everything to he:, and not a penny to poor Sir Eustace! Isn't if scandalous? I'm told he takes it splendidly. though I've not seen him. He is going to let Legh Court. I hear, as. of course, he w ill never be able to live there now. and is going to “do something”—what 1 can't imagine, as he has been an idle man all his life. 1 hear he has left town, and that odious old General is laid up with the gout, and Janet Grant is going about looking too pleased fur words! I am so thankful, darling, that you never cared for poor Sir Eustace as he did for you. as, in spit*' of your remarks to me on the subject of interesting poverty. I doubt if it is as interesting in practice as in theory. I must tell you about the frocks at the X.'s .'* and the letter wander'd otT into the realm of chiffons, and presently dropped unheeded from the girl'.* hands. It would have been hard for Diana to sax why. or in what way. her mother’s letter annoyed her. and yet it did. Sir Eustace Legh had never been more to her in spite of his obvious wish to the contrary- than a pleasant friend, vet she was conscious now <>f h r feelings being stirred in a stronger manner than the occasion seemed to warrant. She p:* ke<l up her mother's monogrammed letter. and. placing it in her pocket. went downstairs to breakfast. A week ago Sir Eustace had ben a pros P<*ctiv«l\ rich man; now he was a comparatively poor one. Diana only wt.ndcred whv she did not feel more . rrv . ”1 ..omlei if you would take this o ok < ver to Miss Thornton for me, I’ ana“”said her cousin, a week later. !<.o\ i._r up from an acciiinitial ion of ( i -pondei ce. “I promised it her

to-day and 1 must get these letters Diana jumped up with alacrity. She had been conscious for the last few days of a feeling of restlessness, unaccountable and indefinable. A walk was hailed with relief, and the buckled shoes again trod the grassy lane that led to Thornleigh. She walked slowly. In the distance. as she approached the manorhouse, she could see John Thornton standing under a large walnut tree on the lawn, gesticulating with his usual awkward movements to another and taller man by his side. Diana realised that this inns, be "my cousin, who is John’s heir, and who is coining to us for a time to get an insight into farming, etc.” Thus Miss Thornton on a previous evening.

Diana approached slowly, a bright spot of pink colour on a green landscape. with a framework cf blue sky overhead. John Thornt n's face lit un as he caught sight of her. and ne raised his hat awkwardly as he came forward. The other man turned round quickly, displaying the boyish good looks of Sir Eustace Legh. Diana caught her breath for one second, then greeted Thornton, and turned to his cousin with her old friendliness, cutting shirt John's stammering in« rod net ions. “Sir Eustace and I are o’.d friends,” she said, brightly, “though 1 did not expect Io meet him here. Legh held her hand for one moment, and 1c ked straight into her brown eyes. “Nor I you. Miss Vereker,” he replied. and turned to his cousin. “John. 1 shall go and see after those men now.” he said abruptly, and was gone. A little en.-e fell between the two left facing each other. If Dianas eyes had not been unconsciously fixed on Eustace's retreat!ng figure, she might have encountered the devotion in another pair of eyes so

patiently bent upon her. But the girl was feeling puzzled and a little chilled by Sir Eustace's abrupt manner, and John Thornton occupied no place in her thoughts. “Is Miss Thornton in?" she asked with rather a tired note in her voice. "1 have a book for her from Cousin Ursula,” and John led her into the house with a shadow on his brow. Miss Thornton was in one of her most garrulous moods, and when «n such knew no reins to her tongue. She discoursed — to a not unwilling listener—at great length on Eustace l.egh's good looks, good qualities, and relationship to them-elves as their cousin and John's heir. "Of course," she remarked, with a little sigh, "if he had succeeded to General Grant's monev this place

would have been nothing to him with Legh Court to live at, but now, well, it makes a difference. It is so unlikely that John will ever marry that I feel Eustace or his children—John is only a few years his senior, you see —will live here one day. He is going to remain with us for the present, and learn something practical about the workings of an estrate. Legh Court is to be let now there is no prospect of his being able to afford to live there. For a man who has done nothing all his life 1 must say he takes to work kindly. He and my brother are the best of friends, but then John is so good, and so different to most young men." and the

good soul, mounted on her Pegasus, yclept "John’s Perfections." sailed away into the realms of mixed truth and fancy. And Diana went back to Glenallen musing on many things. There was a strange little cloud on Diana's horizon during the next week. She saw much of the Thorntons, little of Sir Eustace. He was always busy, feverishly busy, working assiduously at John Thornton’s various duties connected with the Thornleigh estate. He avoided Diana, or appeared to the girl to do so. and she, remembering their friendship of the past two years, felt strangely hurt and puzzled, yet never had liked him better. His society manners, eharming in themselves, yet more suited to the artificial atmosphere of a London drawingroom than the freer air of Thornleigh. had disappeared, and there was a new and sturdy independence in young l.egh's face and manner that in no way detracted from his acknowledged charm. Diana had written to her mother

commenting briefly on the Legh episode, but not thinking it necessary io mention that the chief peison concerned was at that ib< in nt within a mile of Glenallen. She had an idea that the news would ti„: be particularly welcome—now. And there was no talk of her returning to London or to the Vcrekers' place in Noifolk. though Jure had lengthened into July, and Mis Vereker talked daily of "going h. me." anti yet went not. And an imp itient husband and a bored scin olroom daughter sighed in vain for the fresh air of the country, knowing that su long as a single dinner remained to be eaten, in good company be it understood, or a single "at home" to be crushed into. Airs Ver.-ker remained in Cadogan Square. Miss Mortimer gazed one morning across the breakfast taole at her little cousin with a somewhat perplexed "I don t think you are looking particularly well a-s yet. for your change Diana.” she remarked. Diana's colour rose for one instant. “I am very fit. really. Cousin Ursula." she answered, "though I have a tiny headache this morning. 1 think I shall go out a little.” My dear child!" Miss Mortimer rose and went to the window. "It has been pouring with rain all night, and yes. it is still raining a little. I thought you never went out in the wet. Diana?'* with some amusement in her tone.

Again that hot colour in the girl’s cheeks. "No. she confessed. "J don't often. Cousin Ursnlt. But I feel so 'heady' and stupid this morning. I didn't sleep well last night." Miss Mortimer made no further comment until her cousin presently reappeared in a near ’•rev eoat and a jaunty little cap. "It ’has stopped now ” she said. Miss L rsula smiled. “Not the buckled shoes ta-day. I hope. Di?" she q ueried. Diana laughed, and pointed the toe of a neat brown boot. In a moment the garden door banged to. and Miss Mortimer was alone, the tender and yet humorous smile on her fact' deepening a-s she wrote on. In an hour's time the sun was shining as brightly as if rain were an unknown quantity, and Miss Mortimer started to visit a siek woman a mile or so distant fr m Glenal!en. A sudden turn in a quiet lane brought her within sight of a gate, on the top bar of which a man leaned his arms in an attitude that suggested extreme (L'jeetiqn. To her si»rp i<e Miss Mortimer saw that it was .John Thornton, and that, with his head buried in his hands, he was quite unconscious of her approach. She paused in perplc* Ly. not likiiur to advance or retire. With a sudden

movement he raised his head, turning a little to the right, and Miss Mo> tirner. instinctively following the direction with her eyes, started still more. For she understood many things in that moment. By a stile not five hundred yards distant, stood Diana and Eustace Legh. Their backs were towards Miss Mortimer and Thornton,'.and Sir Eis ace’s aim was round the girl’s waist.

The same feeling of being an intruder seemed to strike both spectators simultaneously. John Thornton turned round abruptly to face Miss Mortimer. She never forgo; the Lok of misery on his kind, ugly face. Instinctively she held out her hand. He grasped it warmly and they waked towards Glenallen in an almost unbroken silence. At the gate he bade her a hasty farewell. Miss Mort’mer entered her house with the baskets still in her hand as she had started out. She had entirely forgotten hetcharitable errand.

Diana and Eustace appeared at Glenallen as the luncheon gong was sounding, and stood in the doorway looking slightly self-conscious. Anti Miss Mortimer gave them no help, though she smiled encouragingly. "We are engaged,” said Eustace, boldly and briefly. And he secured Diana's hand. Miss L'rsula came towards them shaking her head. "Diana,” she said, "I am. I suppose, responsible just now for you and vour actions. Oh, I’m glad, dear, very glad”—and she held out a hand to Eustace, as she kissed the girl affectionately. "But what will your mother say?” But Sir Eustace looked quite unabashed. "I know it’s jolly cheek on my part to propose to Diana —now," he said, contritely. "And if I hadn’t met her suddenly this morning looking Diana stopped him with a warning finger. But she whispered one word in her i«ousin’s ear. and it sounded like "miserable.” "Well.” remarked Miss Mortimer, as the gong sounded with insistence the second time, "I shall expect you two to write to your mother, Di. And now. if you could .manage to come down to the level of lunch I should be glad, as I am particularly hungry." Diana’s letter to her mother announcing her engagement to Sir Eustace Legh contained an innocent I’.S. “1 know you and Dad will I e pleased, as you have always liked him.”

And while Air Vereker chuckled and called Diana "a little monkey.” and Lilian (the schoolroom daughter) reviewed with envious girl friends the delights of being a bridesmaid. Airs \ ereker compressed her lips and said little. But some idea of the state of her mind may be gathered from her answer to the remark of a chance visitor that afternoon.

"You will be glad to get out of London, dear Airs Vereker,” said her friend. "You are looking quite done up. and even Lilian has lost some of her bright colour and looks as if she would be the better for a change.”

Lilian’s mother smiled rather drily. ”1 am not sure.” she remarked, reclasping one of her bracelets with a tight little snap, "that I altogether approve of much change for youngpeople. It is apt to be unsettling.” Sir Eustace and Lady Legh have been jiving at Glenallen for some years now. renting it from Miss Alortimer. who has gone abroad. Airs Verektr has withdrawn most of hetunspoken disapproval now that she knows that Sir Eustace — and his sturdy little son—are to succeed to I'hornl -igh, for John Thornton will never marry. But only old Aliss Mortimer knows the reason why.