Derrick Vaughan - Novelist | Page 8

her features, they were perhaps a trifle irregular, and her elder sisters were supposed to eclipse her altogether; but to my mind she was far the most taking of the three.
I was not in the least surprised that Derrick should fall head over ears in love with her; she was exactly the sort of girl that would infallibly attract him. Her absence of shyness; her straightforward, easy way of talking; her genuine goodheartedness; her devotion to animals--one of his own pet hobbies--and finally her exquisite playing, made the result a foregone conclusion. And then, moreover, they were perpetually together. He would hang over the piano in the saloon for hours while she played, the rest of us lazily enjoying the easy chairs and the fresh air on deck; and whenever we landed, these two were sure in the end to be just a little apart from the rest of us.
It was an eminently successful cruise. We all liked each other; the sea was calm, the sunshine constant, the wind as a rule favourable, and I think I never in a single fortnight heard so many good stories, or had such a good time. We seemed to get right out of the world and its narrow restrictions, away from all that was hollow and base and depressing, only landing now and then at quaint little quiet places for some merry excursion on shore. Freda was in the highest spirits; and as to Derrick, he was a different creature. She seemed to have the power of drawing him out in a marvellous degree, and she took the greatest interest in his work--a sure way to every author's heart.
But it was not till one day, when we landed at Tresco, that I felt certain she genuinely loved him--there in one glance the truth flashed upon me. I was walking with one of the gardeners down one of the long shady paths of that lovely little island, with its curiously foreign look, when we suddenly came face to face with Derrick and Freda. They were talking earnestly, and I could see her great grey eyes as they were lifted to his--perhaps they were more expressive than she knew--I cannot say. They both started a little as we confronted them, and the colour deepened in Freda's face. The gardener, with what photographers usually ask for--'just the faint beginning of a smile,'--turned and gathered a bit of white heather growing near.
"They say it brings good luck, miss," he remarked, handing it to Freda.
"Thank you," she said, laughing, "I hope it will bring it to me. At any rate it will remind me of this beautiful island. Isn't it just like Paradise, Mr. Wharncliffe?"
"For me it is like Paradise before Eve was created," I replied, rather wickedly. "By the bye, are you going to keep all the good luck to yourself?"
"I don't know," she said laughing. "Perhaps I shall; but you have only to ask the gardener, he will gather you another piece directly."
I took good care to drop behind, having no taste for the third- fiddle business; but I noticed when we were in the gig once more, rowing back to the yacht, that the white heather had been equally divided--one half was in the waist-band of the blue serge dress, the other half in the button-hole of Derrick's blazer.
So the fortnight slipped by, and at length one afternoon we found ourselves once more in Southampton Water; then came the bustle of packing and the hurry of departure, and the merry party dispersed. Derrick and I saw them all off at the station, for, as his father's ship did not arrive till the following day, I made up my mind to stay on with him at Southampton.
"You will come and see us in town," said Lady Probyn, kindly. And Lord Probyn invited us both for the shooting at Blachington in September. "We will have the same party on shore, and see if we can't enjoy ourselves almost as well," he said in his hearty way; "the novel will go all the better for it, eh, Vaughan?"
Derrick brightened visibly at the suggestion. I heard him talking to Freda all the time that Sir John stood laughing and joking as to the comparative pleasures of yachting and shooting.
"You will be there too?" Derrick asked.
"I can't tell," said Freda, and there was a shade of sadness in her tone. Her voice was deeper than most women's voices--a rich contralto with something striking and individual about it. I could hear her quite plainly; but Derrick spoke less distinctly--he always had a bad trick of mumbling.
"You see I am the youngest," she said, "and I am not really 'out.' Perhaps my mother will wish one of the elder ones to go; but I half think they are already engaged for September,