"No, indeed," Bessie answered, respecting Rachel's gesture of refusal;
"no one is to infringe her incog, under penalty of never coming here
again."
"You are going?" he added to Bessie; "indeed, that was what brought
me here. My sisters sent me to ask whether they may shelter themselves
under your matronly protection, for my mother dreads the crush."
"I suppose, as they put my name down, that I must go, but you know I
had much rather give the money outright. It is a farce to call a bazaar
charity."
"Call it what you will, it is one device for a little sensation."
Rachel's only sensation at that moment was satisfaction at the sudden
appearance of Ranger's white head, the sure harbinger of his master and
Alick, and she sprang up to meet them in the shrubbery path--all her
morbid shyness at the sight of a fresh face passing away when her hand
was within Alick's arm. When they came forth upon the lawn, Alick's brow
darkened for a moment, and there was a formal exchange of greetings as
the guest retreated.
"I am so sorry," began Bessie at once; "I had taken precautions against
invasion, but he did not go to the front door. I do so hope Rachel has
not been fluttered."
"I thought he was at Rio," said Alick.
"He could not stand the climate, and was sent home about a month ago--a
regular case of bad shilling, I am afraid, poor fellow! I am so sorry
he came to startle Rachel, but I swore him over to secrecy. He is not to
mention to any living creature that she is nearer than Plinlimmon till
the incog, is laid aside! I know how to stand up for bridal privileges,
and not to abuse the confidence placed in me."
Any one who was up to the game might have perceived that the sister
was trying to attribute all the brother's tone of disapprobation to his
anxiety lest his wife should have been startled, while both knew as
well as possible that there was a deeper ground of annoyance which was
implied in Alick's answer.
"He seems extremely tame about the garden."
"Or he would not have fallen on Rachel. It was only a chance; he just
brought over a message about that tiresome bazaar that has been dinned
into our ears for the last three months. A bazaar for idiots they may
well call it! They wanted a carving of yours, Uncle George!"
"I am afraid I gave little Alice Bertie one in a weak moment, Bessie,"
said Mr. Clare, "but I hardly durst show my face to Lifford afterwards."
"After all, it is better than some bazaars," said Bessie; "it is
only for the idiot asylum, and I could not well refuse my name and
countenance to my old neighbours, though I stood out against taking a
stall. Lord Keith would not have liked it."