Chapter 9. Mr. Belleville

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_ CHAPTER IX. MR. BELLEVILLE

THE Montforts and Jack Ferrers looked up with much curiosity and some apprehension as the twins returned ushering in the unexpected visitor. Mr. and Mrs. Merryweather and the girls welcomed him cordially, but Margaret could not help contrasting their somewhat subdued cheerfulness with the joyous outburst that had welcomed herself and Peggy on their arrival.

Mr. Claud Belleville was a tall, pallid youth, with blond hair carefully arranged, pale blue eyes, in one of which an eyeglass was neatly fitted, and a languid air. He spoke with a pronounced English accent, and, on being presented to the other guests, said "Oh! very, very, very!" in a most affable tone.

The Merryweathers bestirred themselves, some bringing dry garments, some preparing a hasty meal; the guest meanwhile stood in the centre of the hearthstone, and adjured them not to put themselves to inconvenience.

"Now, my dear people, I beg of you!" he said. "Nothing, positively nothing, but a biscuit and a cup of tea! Really, now, I cannot allow it. Thanks, Jerry! awfully good of you, don't you know! oh! very, very, very! now, my dear fellow, _not_ your best coat! It is too absurd."

"It isn't my best, it's my worst!" said Gerald, bluntly.

"Oh! very good! very diverting! thanks awfully! don't mention it. Well, Cousin Miranda, this is charming; this is positively charming. So delightfully primitive, don't you know! oh, very, very, very! I told my people that before I went back to Paris I must positively look you up. It is such an age since I have seen any of you. My little cousins are all grown up into young ladies, and such charming young ladies: I congratulate you, Cousin, _de tout mon coeur_!"

"Thank you, Claud!" said Mrs. Merryweather, quietly. "I trust your mother is quite well? I only received her note, and Gerald yours, to-day. She spoke of your coming next week; if we had known that you were coming to-night, we would have sent to the station for you."

"Ah, yes; I knew that!" said Mr. Belleville. "I know your hospitality never fails, Cousin Miranda. But you know me, too--a butterfly--here to-day, gone to-morrow! A summons from the Dunderblincks--races going on at their place, don't you know; midsummer _fetes_, that sort of thing--changed my plans. Mamma said, 'You will have to give up the Camp, _Cheri_!' 'No!' I said. 'They expect me; I have passed my word, it is all I have. I go to the Camp to-day.' I came--I saw--I dare not say I conquered!" Here he bowed, and threw a killing glance at Gertrude, who was passing at the moment, carrying the teapot.

"_Can_ this be the little Gertrude?" he added, addressing her, and lowering his voice to a sentimental half-tone. "She has not forgotten Cousin Claud?"

"Certainly not, Claud!" replied Gertrude, smiling. "It is only three years since you were with us at home for two or three weeks. I remember you perfectly."

"Only three years!" murmured Mr. Belleville. "Is it possible? but what momentous years! The change from the _petite fille_, the charming child, to the woman, the--but I must not say too much!"

"You'll burn your bloom--your boots, if you stand so near the fire!" said Gerald, in a growl so threatening that Margaret looked up startled.

"_Your_ boots, dear fellow!" Mr. Belleville corrected him. "Right! I am a little near the cheerful blaze. I am a fire-worshipper, you know; oh, very, very, very!"

"Boys, you'd better see to the boats before you go to bed!" said Mr. Merryweather, speaking for the first time since his greeting of the newcomer.

"All right, sir!" said the twins, rising with alacrity. "Jack, will you come along?"

"Always thoughtful, Cousin Miles!" said Mr. Belleville. "Always the prop of the family! so unchanged!"

Mr. Merryweather's reply was inarticulate, and its tone caused his wife to begin hastily a series of inquiries for the visitor's family.

The twins and Jack Ferrers walked slowly down the slip in the rain. No one spoke till they reached the float; then Gerald said slowly: "Sapolio--Saccarappa--Sarcophagus--_Squedunk_!"

"Feel better?" asked his brother, sympathetically.

"There is one thing," said Gerald, still speaking slowly and emphatically, "that I wish, in this connection, distinctly understood. Indoors he is safe: hospitality--salt--Arabs--that kind of thing. But if in the immediate proximity of the cleansing flood"--he waved his hand toward the lake--"he continues to patronize the parents, in he goes! I have spoken!"

"I should not presume to restrain my half-hour elder!" said Phil. "Jack, I'm afraid we shall have to put this curled darling in your tent. It's only for the night, fortunately."

"Oh! of course! delighted!" said Jack, somewhat embarrassed.

"Very, very, very, eh?" said Phil. "Oh! what's the use of making believe, with any one we know so well as you? It's a nuisance, and we don't pretend it isn't."

"Mark my words, John Ferrers!" broke in Gerald. "We mean to be civil to this youth. He is our second cousin, and we know it. He is also a blooming, blossoming, burgeoning Ass, and he doesn't know it. They seldom do. We mean, I say, to be civil to him, barring patronage of the parents. He has been our thorn, and we have borne him--at intervals, mercifully not too short--all our lives. But we aren't going to pretend that we love him, because we don't. No more doesn't he love us.

"The love that's lost between us
Is not the love for me;
But there's a flood both fair and broad,
In which I'd duck my charming Claud
As gladly as could be!"

. . . . . . .

"Are you ready?" asked the Chief.

"Oh! no, Pater! not just yet. My rudder has got fouled with the cargo."

"Somebody lend me a safety-pin, please! my mainsail is coming loose."

"Has anybody got any ballast to spare? just one pebble!"

These cries and many others resounded from the float, where the campers were gathered, and were putting the last touches to their toy boats. Finally Mr. Merryweather declared that there should be no more delay. The boats were carefully placed in the Ark, a great white rowboat manned by the Chief and Phil, who proceeded to row out leisurely to a white-flagged buoy at some distance from the shore. Gerald and Jack in one canoe, Gertrude and Peggy in another, were stationed at either side of the course; while Margaret and Claud Belleville, in a Rangeley boat, were so placed as to take the time of the various boats as they came in. This arrangement was not satisfactory to all the campers, but when protests were made in the family council the night before, Mr. Merryweather had calmly remarked that it was impossible to please everybody, and that the visitors should be given the post of honor. Gerald muttered that he did not see why Margaret should be butchered to make a Claudian holiday; to which his father replied that the matter was settled, and perhaps he, Gerald, would better be seeing to the lanterns.

"Aren't you a little hard on the boy?" asked Mrs. Merryweather, when she and her husband were left alone together.

"He needs something to bite on!" was the reply. "He is going through a kind of moral teething."

This regatta was the first that Margaret had ever seen, and she was greatly excited.

"Tell us when we are just right!" she cried to the Chief as she passed the Ark. "Oh! anchor by the red flag? yes, I remember, you told me before. Now, Mr. Belleville, will you throw out the anchor, please?"

"Must I?" rejoined Mr. Belleville. "It seems a pity! So charming to row about a bit, don't you think? oh! well, if you insist!"--as he met Margaret's horrified gaze. "Here goes!"

The anchor splashed overboard, and the young man laid down his oars.

"You take this _au grand serieux_, I see, Miss Montfort, like my good cousins themselves. I confess I never can attain their perennial youthfulness, try how I will. I feel a Methuselah, I give you my word I do. Oh! very, very, very!"

"I don't understand you," said Margaret, simply. "We are here to take the time, as the boats pass the line. There is no other object in our being here."

"No other? Alas! poor Claud!" sighed Mr. Belleville. "Now, to me, Miss Montfort, the sailing of toy boats is the smallest possible factor in this afternoon's pleasure. It is not, believe me, the childish sport that I shall remember when I am far away."

"Oh!" said Margaret, vaguely, her eyes on the white boat.

"You do not ask what it is that I shall carry with me across the ocean?" Claud's voice dropped to its favorite smooth half-tone, what he was fond of describing to his friends as "_ma mi-voix caressante_."

"There is a glamour, Miss Montfort, a magic, that does not always put itself into words. The perfect day, the perfect vision, will dwell with me--"

"Oh, look!" cried Margaret, starting forward, eagerly, "they are giving the signal. Gerald repeats it. Oh, they are off! Look, look, Mr. Belleville! What a pretty sight."

It was, indeed, a pretty sight. The fairy fleet started in line, their white and brown sails taking the breeze gallantly, their prows (where they had prows) dancing over the dancing ripples. One or two proved unruly, turning round and round, and in one case finally turning bottom side up, with hardly a struggle. But most of the little vessels kept fairly well within the course, heading, more or less, for the shore.

Margaret was enchanted.

"How wonderfully they keep together!" she said. "Oh! but now they begin to separate. Look, there is a poor little one wobbling off all by itself. I wonder--I am afraid it is Peggy's. Yes, I am sure it is. Poor Peggy! Oh! the first three are going much faster than the rest. I wonder whose they are. How prettily they sail! Did you ever see anything prettier?"

"I see something infinitely prettier," said Mr. Belleville, fixing his eyes on his companion. But Margaret, wholly unconscious of his languishing gaze, was watching the race with an intensity of eagerness that left no room for any other impressions.

The three forward boats came on swiftly, their prows dipping lightly, their paper sails spread full to the breeze. Shouts came ringing over the water, from the other boats, and from the shore, where the rest of the campers were gathered in an excited knot.

"_Jollycumpop!_"

"_Come-at-a-Body!_"

"Good work, _Jolly_! Keep it up!"

"The _Whale_ is gaining. Hit her up, Spermaceti!"

"_Jollycumpop_ has it! _Jollycumpop!_"

"The _Jolly is_ first," cried Margaret; "but the _Come-at-a-Body_ is very, very close. Which do you think will win, Mr. Belleville?"

"Which do you wish to win?" asked Mr. Belleville.

"Oh, how can I tell? One is Gertrude's, the other Gerald's."

"There can be little doubt in that case, I imagine," said Claud Belleville, with a peculiar smile. "As a matter of simple gallantry--dear me, how unfortunate!"

As he spoke, his oar slipped from his hand, and fell with a splash into the water. The _Come-at-a-Body_ was nearest to the Rangeley boat. The oar did not absolutely touch the tiny vessel, but the shock of the disturbed water was enough to check her gallant progress. She paused,--wavered,--finally recovered herself, and went bravely on. But in that pause the _Jollycumpop_ crossed the line triumphantly, amid loud acclamations.

"The little Gertrude wins!" exclaimed Mr. Belleville, recovering his oar with graceful composure. "We can hardly regret an accident which contributes even slightly to give the victory where it so manifestly belongs, can we, Miss Montfort?"

But Margaret Montfort turned upon him, her fair face flushed with anger, her gentle eyes full of fire.

"Mr. Belleville, you dropped that oar on purpose!" she said, quietly.

"How can you suspect me of such a thing?" replied Mr. Belleville, laughing. "But, _quand meme_! would it have been wholly unjustifiable if I had done so?"

"Wholly, to my mind!" said Margaret. "In fact, I cannot imagine such a thing being done by any one who--" she checked herself.

"By any one who is related to these dear people?" said Mr. Belleville, lightly. "Ah! Miss Montfort, a bond of blood does not always mean a bond of sympathy. These dear people bore me, and I bore them. Believe me, it is reciprocal. But do you yourself never tire of this everlasting childishness, these _jeux d'enfance_, on the part of persons who, after all, are mostly beyond the nursery?"

"I do not!" said Margaret, concisely. "If you will take in the anchor, Mr. Belleville, I think I should like to go ashore, if you please."

"I have offended you!" cried Claud Belleville. "You, to whom from the first instant I have felt so irresistibly drawn. I am unfortunate, indeed. But you cannot be seriously angry. Give me a chance to redeem myself, I implore you, Miss Montfort. See what a charming little cove opens yonder, just opposite. Delightful to drift and dream for an hour, in the company of one who understands--oh, very, very, very."

"I do not understand," said Margaret, "and I have no desire to do so, Mr. Belleville. I beg you to take me ashore at once,--this moment."

"And if I were bold enough to delay obedience for a few moments? If I felt confident that I could overcome this stern--"

"Gertrude," called Margaret, as the owner of the victorious _Jollycumpop_ passed them with a triumphant greeting, "can you give us a tow?"

"Certainly," said Gertrude. "Anything wrong?"

"On the contrary, dear cousin," said Claud, "I challenge you to a race."

And with a glance at Margaret, half reproachful, half mocking, he bent to his oars, with the first sign of energy he had shown since his arrival. _

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