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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/35901-8.txt b/35901-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5b67ea7 --- /dev/null +++ b/35901-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,21558 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Heriot's Choice, by Rosa Nouchette Carey + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Heriot's Choice + A Tale + +Author: Rosa Nouchette Carey + +Release Date: April 18, 2011 [EBook #35901] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HERIOT'S CHOICE *** + + + + +Produced by Chris Curnow, Lindy Walsh, Mary Meehan and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + + HERIOT'S CHOICE + + A Tale + + BY ROSA NOUCHETTE CAREY + +AUTHOR OF 'NELLIE'S MEMORIES,' 'NOT LIKE OTHER GIRLS,' 'SIR GODFREY'S +GRANDDAUGHTERS,' ETC. + + + London + MACMILLAN AND CO., Limited + NEW YORK: THE MACMILLAN COMPANY + 1902 + + _All rights reserved_ + + _First Edition, 3 Vols. Crown 8vo, 31s. 6d., 1879_ + _Second Edition, 1 Vol. Crown 8vo, 6s., 1890_ + _Reprinted 1891, 1895,(3s. 6d.) 1898_ + _Transferred to Macmillan & Co., Ltd., August 1898, 1902_ + + TO + The Rev. Canon Simpson, LL.D. + THIS STORY + IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED BY + THE AUTHOR + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER I. 'SAY YES, MILLY' + +CHAPTER II. 'IF YOU PLEASE, MAY I BRING RAG AND TATTERS?' + +CHAPTER III. VIĀ TEBAY + +CHAPTER IV. MILDRED'S NEW HOME + +CHAPTER V. OLIVE + +CHAPTER VI. CAIN AND ABEL + +CHAPTER VII. A MOTHER IN ISRAEL + +CHAPTER VIII. 'ETHEL THE MAGNIFICENT' + +CHAPTER IX. KIRKLEATHAM + +CHAPTER X. THE RUSH-BEARING + +CHAPTER XI. AN AFTERNOON IN CASTLESTEADS + +CHAPTER XII. THE WELL-MEANING MISCHIEF-MAKER + +CHAPTER XIII. A YOUTHFUL DRACO AND SOLON + +CHAPTER XIV. RICHARD COEUR-DE-LION + +CHAPTER XV. THE GATE AJAR + +CHAPTER XVI. COMING BACK + +CHAPTER XVII. THREE YEARS AFTERWARDS--A RETROSPECT + +CHAPTER XVIII. OLIVE'S WORK + +CHAPTER XIX. THE HEART OF COEUR-DE-LION + +CHAPTER XX. WHARTON HALL FARM + +CHAPTER XXI. UNDER STENKRITH BRIDGE + +CHAPTER XXII. DR. HERIOT'S WARD + +CHAPTER XXIII. 'AND MAIDENS CALL IT LOVE-IN-IDLENESS' + +CHAPTER XXIV. THE DESERTED COTTON-MILL IN HILBECK GLEN + +CHAPTER XXV. ROYAL + +CHAPTER XXVI. 'IS THAT LETTER FOR ME, AUNT MILLY?' + +CHAPTER XXVII. COOP KERNAN HOLE + +CHAPTER XXVIII. DR. HERIOT'S MISTAKE + +CHAPTER XXIX. THE COTTAGE AT FROGNAL + +CHAPTER XXX. 'I CANNOT SING THE OLD SONGS' + +CHAPTER XXXI. 'WHICH SHALL IT BE?' + +CHAPTER XXXII. A TALK IN FAIRLIGHT GLEN + +CHAPTER XXXIII. 'YES' + +CHAPTER XXXIV. JOHN HERIOT'S WIFE + +CHAPTER XXXV. OLIVE'S DECISION + +CHAPTER XXXVI. BERENGARIA + + + + +HERIOT'S CHOICE + + + + +CHAPTER I + +'SAY YES, MILLY' + + 'Man's importunity is God's opportunity.' + + 'O fair, O fine, O lot to be desired! + Early and late my heart appeals to me, + And says, "O work, O will--Thou man, be fired, + To earn this lot--" she says--"I would not be + A worker for mine own bread, or one hired + For mine own profit. O, I would be free + To work for others; love so earned of them + Should be my wages and my diadem."'--Jean Ingelow. + + +'Say yes, Milly.' + +Three short words, and yet they went straight to Milly's heart. It was +only the postscript of a long, sorrowful letter--the finale brief but +eloquent--of a quiet, dispassionate appeal; but it sounded to Mildred +Lambert much as the Macedonian cry must have sounded of old: 'Come over +and help us.' + +Mildred's soft, womanly nature was capable of only one response to such +a demand. Assent was more than probable, and bordered on certainty, even +before the letter was laid aside, and while her cheek was yet paling at +the thought of new responsibilities and the vast unknown, wherein duty +must tread on the heel of inclination, and life must press out thought +and the worn-out furrows of intro- and retrospection. + +And so it was that the page of a negative existence was turned; and +Mildred agreed to become the inmate of her brother's home. + +'Aunt Milly!' How pleasant it would be to hear that again, and to be in +the centre of warm young life and breathless activity, after the torpor +of long waiting and watching, and the hush and the blank and the +drawn-out pain, intense yet scarcely felt, of the last seven years. + +To begin life in its fulness at eight-and-twenty; to taste of its real +sweets and bitters, after it had offered to her nothing but the pale +brackish flavour of regret for a passing youth and wasted powers, +responsive rather than suggestive (if there be such monstrous anomaly on +the whole face of God's creation), nothing being wasted, and all +pronounced good, that comes direct from the Divine Hand. To follow fresh +tracks when the record of the years had left nothing but the traces of +the chariot-wheels of daily monotonous duties that dragged heavily, when +summer and winter and seed-time and harvest found Mildred still through +those seven revolving courses of seasons within the walls of that quiet +sickroom. + +It is given to some women to look back on these long level blanks of +life; on mysteries of waiting, that intervene between youth and work, +when the world's noise comes dimly to them, like the tumult of city's +streets through closed shutters; when pain and hardship seem preferable +to their death-in-life, and they long to prove the armour that has grown +rusted with disuse. + +How many a volume could be written, and with profit, on the watchers as +well as the workers of life, on the bystanders as well as the sufferers. +'Patient hearts their pain to see.' Well has this thought been embodied +in the words of a nineteenth-century Christian poet; while to many a +pallid malcontent, wearied with inaction and panting for strife, might +the Divine words still be applied: 'Could ye not have watched with Me +one hour?' + +Mildred Lambert's life for eight-and-twenty years might be summed up in +a few sentences. A happy youth, scarcely clouded by the remembrance of a +dead father and the graves of the sisters that came between her infancy +and the maturer age of her only brother; and then the blurred brightness +when Arnold, who had married before he had taken orders, became the +hard-working vicar of a remote Westmorland parish--and he and his wife +and children passed out of Milly's daily life. + +Milly was barely nineteen when this happened; but even then her +mother--who had always been ailing--was threatened with a chronic +complaint involving no ordinary suffering; and now began the long seven +years' watching which faded Milly's youth and roses together. + +Milly had never known how galling had been the strain to the nerves--how +intense her own tenacity of will and purpose, till she had folded her +mother's pale hands together; and with a lassitude too great for tears, +felt as she crept away that her work was finished none too soon, and +that even her firm young strength was deserting her. + +Trouble had not come singly to Mildred. News of her sister-in-law's +unexpected death had reached her, just before her mother's last brief +attack, and her brother had been too much stunned by his own loss to +come to her in her loneliness. + +Not that Milly wondered at this. She loved Arnold dearly; but he was so +much older, and they had grown necessarily so apart. He and his wife had +been all in all to each other; and the family in the vicarage had seemed +so perfected and completed that the little petted Milly of old days +might well plead that she was all but forgotten. + +But Betha's death had altered this; and Arnold's letter, written as good +men will write when their heart is well-nigh broken, came to Mildred as +she sat alone in her black dress in her desolate home. + +New work--unknown work--and that when youth's elasticity seemed gone, +and spirits broken or at least dangerously quieted by the morbid +atmosphere of sickness and hypochondria. They say the prisoner of twenty +years will weep at leaving his cell. The tears that Mildred shed that +night were more for the mother she had lost and the old safe life of the +past, than pity for the widowed brother and motherless children. + +Do we ever outlive our selfishness? Do we ever cease to be fearful for +ourselves? + +And yet Mildred was weary of solitude. Arnold was her own, her only +brother; and Aunt Milly--well, perhaps it might be pleasant. + +'Say yes, Milly--for Betha's sake--for my darling's sake (she was so +fond of you), if not for mine. Think how her children miss her! Matters +are going wrong already. It is not their fault, poor things; but I am so +helpless to decide. I used to leave everything to her, and we are all so +utterly lost. + +'I could not have asked you if our mother had lingered; but your +faithful charge, my poor Milly, is over--your martyrdom, as Betha called +it. She was so bright, and loved to have things so bright round her, +that your imprisonment in the sickroom quite oppressed her. It was "poor +Milly," "our dear good Milly," to the last. I wish her girls were more +like her; but she only laughed at their odd ways, and told me I should +live to be proud of them. + +'Olive is as left-handed as ever, and Chrissy little better. Richard is +mannish, but impracticable, and a little difficult to understand. We +should none of us get on at all but for Roy: he has his mother's +heart-sunshine and loving smile; but even Roy has his failures. + +'We want a woman among us, Milly--a woman with head and hands, and a +tolerable stock of patience. Even Heriot is in difficulties, but that +will keep till you come--for you will come, will you not, my dear?' + +'Come! how could you doubt me, Arnold?' replied Mildred, as she laid +down the letter; but 'God help me and them' followed close on the sigh. + +'After all, it is a clear call to duty,' she soliloquised. 'It is not my +business to decide on my fitness or unfitness, or to measure myself to +my niche. We are not promised strength before the time, and no one can +tell before he tries whether he be likely to fail. Richard's +mannishness, and Olive's left-handed ways, and Chrissy's poorer +imitation, shall not daunt me. Arnold wants me. I shall be of use to +some one again, and I will go.' + +But Mildred, for all her bravery, grew a little pale over her brother's +second letter:--'You must come at once, and not wait to summer and +winter it, or, as some of our old women say, "to bide the bitterment +on't." Shall I send Richard to help you about your house business, and +to settle your goods and chattels? Let the old furniture go, Milly; it +has stood a fair amount of wear and tear, and you are young yet, my +dear. Shall I send Dick? He was his mother's right hand. The lad's +mannish for his nineteen years.' Mannish again! This Richard began to be +formidable. He was a bright well-looking lad of thirteen when Mildred +had seen him last. But she remembered his mother's fond descriptions of +Cardie's cleverness and goodness. One sentence had particularly struck +her at the time. Betha had been comparing her boys, and dwelling on +their good points with a mother's partiality. 'As to Roy, he needs no +praise of mine; he stands so well in every one's estimation--and in his +own, too--that a little fault-finding would do him good. Cardie is +different: his diffidence takes the form of pride; no one understands +him but I--not even his father. The one speaks out too much, and the +other too little; but one of these days he will find out his son's good +heart.' + +'I wonder if Arnold will recognise me,' thought Mildred, sorrowfully, +that night, as she sat by her window, looking out on her little strip of +garden, shimmering in the moonlight. 'I feel so old and changed, and +have grown into such quiet ways. Are there some women who are never +young, I wonder? Am I one of them? Is it not strange,' she continued, +musingly, 'that such beautiful lives as Betha's are struck so suddenly +out of the records of years, while I am left to take up the incompleted +work she discharged so lovingly? Dear Betha! what a noble heart it was! +Arnold reverenced as much as he loved her. How vain to think of +replacing, even in the faintest degree; one of the sweetest women this +earth ever saw: sweet, because her whole life was in exact harmony with +her surroundings.' And there rose before Mildred's eyes a faint image +that often haunted her--of a face with smiling eyes, and brown hair just +touched with gold--and the small firm hand that, laid on unruly lips, +could hush coming wrath, and smooth the angry knitting of baby brows. + +It was strange, she thought, that neither Olive nor Chrissy were like +their mother. Roy's fairness and steady blue eyes were her sole +relics--Roy, who was such a pretty little fellow when Mildred had seen +him last. + +Mildred tried to trace out a puzzled thought in her head before she +slept that night. A postscript in Arnold's letter, vaguely worded, but +most decidedly mysterious, gave rise to a host of conjectures. + +'I have just found out that Heriot's business must be settled long +before the end of next month--when you come to us. You know him by name +and repute, though not personally. I have given him your address. I +think it will be better for you both to talk the matter over, and to +give it your full consideration, before you start for the north. Make +any arrangements you like about the child. Heriot's a good fellow, and +deserves to be helped; he has been everything to us through our +trouble.' + +What could Arnold mean? Betha's chatty letters--thoroughly womanly in +their gossip--had often spoken of Arnold's friend, Dr. Heriot, and of +his kindness to their boys. She had described him as a man of great +talents, and an undoubted acquisition to their small society. 'Arnold +(who was her universal referee) wondered that a man like Dr. Heriot +should bury himself in a Westmorland valley. Some one had told them that +he had given up a large West End practice. There was some mystery about +him; his wife made him miserable. No one knew the rights or the wrongs +of it; but they would rather believe any thing than that he was to +blame.' + +And in another letter she wrote: 'A pleasant evening has just been sadly +interrupted. The Bishop was here and one or two others, Dr. Heriot among +them; but a telegram summoning him to his wife's deathbed had just +reached him. + +'Arnold, who stood by him, says he turned as pale as death as he read +it; but he only put it into his hand without a word, and left the room. +I could not help following him with a word of comfort, remembering how +good he was to us when we had nearly lost Chrissy last year; but he +looked at me so strangely that the words died on my lips. "When death +only relieves us of a burden, Mrs. Lambert, we touch on a sorrow too +great for any ordinary comfort. You are sorry for me, but pray for her." +And wringing my hand, he turned away. She must have been a bad wife to +him. He is a good man; I am sure of it.' + +How strange that Dr. Heriot should be coming to see her, and on private +business, too! It seemed so odd of Arnold to send him; and yet it was +pleasant to feel that she was to be consulted and her opinion respected. +'Mildred, who loves to help everybody, must find some way of helping +poor Heriot,' had been her brother's concluding words. + +Mildred Lambert's house was one of those modest suburban residences +lying far back on a broad sunny road bordering on Clapham Common; but on +a May afternoon even Laurel Cottage, unpretentious as it was, was not +devoid of attractions, with its trimly cut lawn and clump of +sweet-scented lilac and yellow drooping laburnum, stretching out long +fingers of gold in the sunshine. + +Mildred was sitting alone in her little drawing-room, ostensibly sorting +her papers, but in reality falling into an occasional reverie, lulled by +the sunshine and the silence, when a brisk footstep on the gravel +outside the window made her start. Visitors were rare in her secluded +life, and, with the exception of the doctor and the clergyman, and +perhaps a sympathising neighbour, few ever invaded the privacy of Laurel +Cottage; the light, well-assured footstep sounded strange in Mildred's +ears, and she listened with inward perturbation to Susan's brief +colloquy with the stranger. + +'Yes, her mistress was disengaged; would he send in his name and +business, or would he walk in?' And the door was flung open a little +testily by Susan, who objected to this innovation on their usual +afternoon quiet. + +'Forgive me, if I am intruding, Miss Lambert, but your brother told me I +might call.' + +'Dr. Heriot?' + +'Yes; he has kept his promise then, and has written to inform you of my +intended visit? We have heard so much of each other that I am sure we +ought to need no special introduction.' But though Dr. Heriot, as he +said this, held out his hand with a frank smile, a grave, penetrating +look accompanied his words; he was a man rarely at fault, but for the +moment he seemed a little perplexed. + +'Yes, I expected you; will you sit down?' replied Mildred, simply. She +was not a demonstrative woman, and of late had grown into quiet ways +with strangers. Dr. Heriot's tone had slightly discomposed her; +instinctively she felt that he failed to recognise in her some given +description, and that a brief embarrassment was the result. + +Mildred was right. Dr. Heriot was trying to puzzle out some connection +between the worn, soft-eyed woman before him, and the fresh girlish face +that had so often smiled down on him from the vicarage wall, with shy, +demure eyes, and the roses in her belt not brighter than the pure +colouring of her bloom. The laughing face had grown sad and +quiet--painfully so, Dr. Heriot thought--and faint lines round mouth and +brow bore witness to the strain of a wearing anxiety and habitual +repression of feeling; the skin of the forehead was too tightly +stretched, and the eyes shone too dimly for health; while the thin, +colourless cheek, seen in juxtaposition to the black dress, told their +own story of youthful vitality sacrificed to the inexorable demand of +hypochondria. + +But it was a refined, womanly face, and one that could not fail to +interest; a kind patient soul looked through the quiet eyes; youth and +its attractions had faded, but a noble unconsciousness had replaced it; +in talking to her you felt instinctively that the last person of whom +Mildred thought was herself. But if Dr. Heriot were disappointed in the +estimate he had formed of his friend's sister, Mildred on her side was +not the less surprised at his appearance. + +She had imagined him a man of imposing aspect--a man of height and +inches, with iron-gray hair. The real Dr. Heriot was dark and slight, +rather undersized than otherwise, with a dark moustache, and black, +closely-cropped hair, which made him look younger than he really was. It +was not a handsome face; at first sight there was something stern and +forbidding about it, but the lines round the mouth relaxed pleasantly +when he smiled, and the eyes had a clear, straightforward look; while +about the whole man there was a certain indefinable air of +good-breeding, as of one long accustomed to hold his own amongst men who +were socially his superiors. + +Mildred had taken her measurement of Dr. Heriot in her own quiet way +long before she had exhausted her feminine budget of conversation: the +fineness of the weather, the long dusty journey, his need of +refreshment, and inquiries after her brother's health and spirits. + +'He is not a man to be embarrassed, but his business baffles him,' she +thought to herself; 'he is ill at ease, and unhappy. I must try and meet +him half-way.' And accordingly Mildred began in her straightforward +manner. + +'It is a long way to come up on business, Dr. Heriot. Arnold told me you +had difficulties, though he did not explain their nature. Strange to +say, he spoke as though I could be of some assistance to you!' + +'I have no right to burden you,' he returned, somewhat incoherently; +'you look little fit now to cope with such responsibilities as must fall +to your share. Would not rest and change be beneficial before entering +on new work?' + +'I am not talking of myself,' returned Mildred, with a faint smile, +though her colour rose at the unmistakable tone of sympathy in Dr. +Heriot's voice. 'My time for rest will come presently. Is it true, Dr. +Heriot, that I can be of any service to you?' + +'You shall judge,' was the answer. 'I will meet your kindness with +perfect frankness. My business in London at the present moment concerns +a little girl--a distant relative of my poor wife's--who has lost her +only remaining parent. Her father and I were friends in our student +days; and in a weak moment I accepted a presumptive guardianship over +the child. I thought Philip Ellison was as likely as not to outlive me, +and as he had some money left him there seemed very little risk about +the whole business.' + +Mildred gave him a glance full of intelligence. It was clear to her now +wherein Dr. Heriot's difficulty lay. He was still too young a man to +have the sole guardianship of a motherless orphan. + +'Philip was but a few years older than myself, and, as he explained to +me, it was only a purely business arrangement, and that in case of his +death he wished to have a disinterested person to look after his +daughter's interest. Things were different with me then, and I had no +scruples in acceding to his wish. But Philip Ellison was a bad manager, +and on an evil day was persuaded to invest his money in some rotten +company--heaven knows what!--and as a natural consequence lost every +penny. Since then I have heard little about him. He was an artist, but +not a rising one; he travelled a great deal in France and Germany, and +now and then he would send over pictures to be sold, but I am afraid he +made out only a scanty subsistence for himself and his little daughter. +A month ago I received news of his death, and as she has not a near +relation living, except some cousins in Australia, I find I have the +sole charge of a girl of fourteen; and I think you will confess, Miss +Lambert, that the position has its difficulties. What in the +world'--here Dr. Heriot's face grew a little comical--'am I to do with a +raw school-girl of fourteen?' + +'What does Arnold suggest?' asked Mildred, quietly. In her own mind she +was perfectly aware what would be her brother's first generous thought. + +'It was my intention to put the child at some good English school, and +have her trained as a governess; but it is a dreary prospect for her, +poor little soul, and somehow I feel as though I ought to do better for +Philip Ellison's daughter. He was one of the proudest men that ever +lived, and was so wrapped up in his child.' + +'But my brother has negatived that, and proposed another plan,' +interrupted Mildred, softly. She knew her brother well. + +'He was generous enough to propose that she should go at once to the +vicarage until some better arrangement could be made. He assured me that +there was ample room for her, and that she could share Olive's and +Chrissy's lessons; but he begged me to refer it to you, as he felt he +had no right to make such an addition to the family circle without your +full consent.' + +'Arnold is very good, but he must have known that I could have no +objection to offer to any plan of which he approves. He is so +kind-hearted, that one could not bear to damp his enthusiasm.' + +'Yes, but think a moment before you decide,' returned Dr Heriot, +earnestly. 'It is quite true that I was bound to your brother and his +wife by no ordinary ties of friendship, and that they would have done +anything for me, but this ought not to be allowed to influence you. If I +accept Mr. Lambert's offer, at least for the present, I shall be adding +to your work, increasing your responsibilities. Olive and Chrissy will +tax your forbearance sufficiently without my bringing this poor little +waif of humanity upon your kindness; and you look so far from strong,' +he continued, with a quick change of tone. + +'I am quite ready for my work,' returned Mildred, firmly; 'looks do not +always speak the truth, Dr. Heriot. Please let me have the charge of +your little ward; she will not be a greater stranger to me than Olive +and Chrissy are. Why, Chrissy was only nine when I saw her last. Ah,' +continued Mildred, folding her hands, and speaking almost to herself, +'if you knew what it will be to me to see myself surrounded by young +faces, to be allowed to love them, and to try to win their love in +return--to feel I am doing real work in God's world, with a real trust +and talent given to me--ah! you must let me help you in this, Dr. +Heriot; you were so good to Betha, and it will make Arnold happy.' And +Mildred stretched out her hand to him with a new impulse, so unlike the +composed manner in which she had hitherto spoken, that Dr. Heriot, +surprised and touched, could find no response but 'God bless you for +this, Miss Lambert!' + +Mildred's gentle primness was thawing visibly under Dr. Heriot's +pleasant manners. By and by, as she presided at the sunny little +tea-table, and pressed welcome refreshment on her weary guest, she heard +more about this strange early friendship of his, and shared his surmises +as to the probable education and character of his ward. + +'She must be a regular Bohemian by this time,' he observed. 'From what I +can hear they were never long in one place. It must be a strange +training for a girl, living in artists' studios, and being the sole +companion of a silent, taciturn man such as Philip was.' + +'She will hardly have the characteristics of other girls,' observed +Mildred. + +'She cannot possibly be more out of the common than Olive. Olive has all +sorts of absurd notions in her head. It is odd Mrs. Lambert's training +should have failed so signally in her girls. I am afraid your +preciseness will be sometimes offended,' he continued, looking round the +room, which, with all its homeliness, had the little finishes that a +woman's hand always gives. 'Olive might have arranged those flowers, but +she would have forgotten to water them, or to exclude their presence +when dead.' + +'You are a nice observer,' returned Mildred, smiling. 'Do not make me +afraid of my duties beforehand, as though I do not exactly know how all +the rooms look! Betha's pretty drawing-room trampled by dirty boots, +Arnold's study a hopeless litter of books, not a corner of the +writing-table clear. Chrissy used them as bricks,' she continued, +laughing. 'Roy and she had a mighty Tower of Babel one day. You should +have seen Arnold's look when he found out that _The Seven Lamps of +Architecture_ laid the foundation; but Betha only laughed, and told him +it served him right.' + +'But she kept them in order, though. In her quiet way she was an +excellent disciplinarian. Well, Miss Lambert, I am trespassing overmuch +on your goodness. To-morrow I am to make my ward's acquaintance--one of +the clique has brought her over from Dieppe--and I am to receive her +from his hands. Would it be troubling you too much if I ask you to +accompany me?--the poor child will feel so forlorn with only men round +her.' + +'I will go with you and bring her home. No, please, do not thank me, Dr. +Heriot. If you knew how lonely I am here----' and for the first time +Mildred's eyes filled with tears. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +'IF YOU PLEASE, MAY I BRING RAG AND TATTERS?' + + 'O, my Father's hand, + Stroke heavily, heavily the poor hair down, + Draw, press the child's head closer to thy knee-- + I'm still too young, too young, to sit alone.'--Aurora Leigh. + + +So this was Polly. + +It was only a shabby studio, where poverty and art fought a hand-to-hand +struggle for the bare maintenance, but among the after scenes of her +busy life Mildred never forgot the place where she first saw Dr. +Heriot's ward; it lingered in her memory, a fair, haunting picture as of +something indescribably sweet and sad. + +Its few accessories were so suggestive of a truer taste made impossible +by paucity of success; an unfinished painting all dim grays and pallid, +watery blues; a Cain fleeing out of a blurred outline of clouds; +fragmentary snatches of colour warming up pitiless details; rickety +chairs and a broken-down table; a breadth of faded tapestry; a jar of +jonquils, the form pure Tuscan, the material rough earthenware, a +plaster Venus, mutilated but grand, shining out from the dull red +background of a torn curtain. A great unfurnished room, full of yellow +light and warm sunshine, and, standing motionless in a ladder of motes +and beams, with brown eyes drinking in the twinkling glory like a young +eagle, was a girl in a shabby black dress, with thin girlish arms +clasped across her breast. For a moment Dr. Heriot paused, and he and +Mildred exchanged glances; the young figure in its forlornness came to +them like a mournful revelation; the immobility was superb, the youthful +languor pitiful. As Dr. Heriot touched her, she turned on them eyes full +of some lost dream, and a large tear that had been gathering +unconsciously brimmed over and splashed down on his hand. + +'My child, have we startled you? Mr. Fabian told us to come up.' For a +moment she looked bewildered. Her thoughts had evidently travelled a +long way, but with consciousness came a look of relief and pleasure. + +'Oh, I knew you would come--papa told me so. Oh, why have you been so +long?--it is three months almost since papa died. Oh, poor papa! poor +papa!' and the flush of joy died out of her face as, clasping her small +nervous hands round Dr. Heriot's arm, she laid her face down on them and +burst into a passion of tears. + +'I sent for you directly I heard; they kept me in ignorance--have they +not told you so? Poor child, how unkind you must have thought me!' and a +grieved look came over Dr. Heriot's face as he gently stroked the +closely-cropped head, that felt like the dark, soft plumage of some +bird. + +'No, I never thought you that,' she sobbed. 'I was only so lonely and +tired of waiting; and then I got ill, and Mr. Fabian was good to me, and +so were the others. But papa had left me to you, and I wanted you to +fetch me. You have come to take me home, have you not?' + +She looked up in his face pleadingly as she said this; she spoke in a +voice sweet, but slightly foreign, but with a certain high-bred accent, +and there was something unique in her whole appearance that struck her +guardian with surprise. The figure was slight and undeveloped, with the +irregularity of fourteen; but the ordinary awkwardness of girlhood was +replaced by dignity, almost grace, of movement. She was +dark-complexioned, but her face was a perfect oval, and the slight down +on the upper lip gave a characteristic but not unpleasing expression to +the mouth, which was firm but flexible; the hair had evidently been cut +off in recent illness, for it was tucked smoothly behind the ears, and +was perfectly short behind, which would have given her a boyish look but +for the extreme delicacy of the whole contour. + +'You have come to take me home, have you not?' she repeated anxiously. + +'This lady has,' he replied, with a look at Mildred, who had stood +modestly in the background. 'I wish I had a home to offer you, my dear; +but my wife is dead, and----' + +'Then you will want me all the more,' she returned eagerly. 'Papa and I +have so often talked about you; he told me how good you were, and how +unhappy.' + +'Hush, Mary,' laying his hand lightly over her lips; but Mildred could +see his colour changed painfully. But she interrupted him a little +petulantly-- + +'Nobody calls me Mary, and it sounds so cold and strange.' + +'What then, my dear?' + +'Why, Polly, of course!' opening her brown eyes widely; 'I have always +been Polly--always.' + +'It shall be as you will, my child.' + +'How gently you speak! Are you ever irritable, like papa, I wonder?--he +used to be so ill and silent, and then, when we tried to rouse him, he +could not bear it. Who is this lady, and why do you say you have no home +for me?' + +'She means to be our good friend, Polly--there, will that do? But you +are such a dignified young lady, I should never have ventured to call +you that unasked.' + +'Why not?' she repeated, darting at him a clear, straightforward glance. +Evidently his reticence ruffled her; but Dr. Heriot skilfully evaded the +brief awkwardness. + +'This lady is Miss Lambert, and she is the sister of one of my best +friends; she is going to take charge of his girls and boys, who have +lost their mother, and she has kindly offered to take charge of you +too.' + +'She is very good,' returned Polly, coldly; 'very, very good, I mean,' +as though she had repented of a slight hauteur. 'But I have never had +anything to do with children. Papa and I were always alone, and I would +much rather live with you; you have no idea what a housekeeper I shall +make you. I can dress salad and cook _omelettes_, and Nanette taught me +how to make _potage_. I used to take a large basket myself to the market +when we lived at Dresden, when Nanette was so bad with rheumatism.' + +'What an astonishing Polly!' + +'Ah! you are laughing at me,' drawing herself up proudly, and turning +away so that he should not see the tears in her eyes. + +'My dear Polly, is that a "crime"?' + +'It is when people are in earnest I have said nothing that deserves +laughing at--have I, Miss Lambert?' with a sweet, candid glance that won +Mildred's heart. + +'No, indeed; I was wishing that my nieces were like you.' + +'I did not mean that--I was not asking for praise,' stammered Polly, +turning a vivid scarlet. 'I only wanted my guardian to know that I +should not be useless to him. I can do much more than that I can mend +and darn better than Annette, who was three years older. You are smiling +still.' + +'If I smile, it is only with pleasure to know my poor friend had such a +good daughter. Listen to me, Polly--how old are you?' + +'Fourteen last February.' + +'What a youthful Polly!--too young, I fear, to comprehend the position. +And then with such Bohemian surroundings--that half-crazed painter, +Fabian,' he muttered, 'and a purblind fiddler and his wife. My poor +child,' he continued, laying his hand on her head lightly, and speaking +as though moved in spite of himself, 'as long as you want a friend, you +will never find a truer one than John Heriot. I will be your guardian, +adopted father, what you will; but,' with a firmness of voice that +struck the girl in spite of herself, 'I cannot have you to live with me, +Polly.' + +'Why not?' she asked, pleadingly. + +'Because it would be placing us both in a false position; because I +could not incur such a responsibility; because no one is so fit to take +charge of a young girl as a good motherly woman, such as you will find, +in Miss Lambert.' And as the girl looked at him bewildered and +disappointed, he continued kindly, 'You must forget this pleasant dream, +Polly; perhaps some day, when your guardian is gray-haired, it may come +to pass; but I shall often think how good my adopted daughter meant to +be to me.' + +'Shall I never see you then?' asked Polly mournfully. + +If these were English ways, the girl thought, what a cold, heartless +place it must be! Had not Mr. Fabian promised to adopt her if the +English guardian should not be forthcoming? Even Herr Schreiber had +offered to keep her out of his poor salary, when her father's death had +left her dependent on the little community of struggling artists and +musicians. Polly was having her first lesson in the troublesome +_convenances_ of life, and to the affectionate, ardent girl it was +singularly unpalatable. + +'I am afraid you will see me every day,' replied her guardian, with much +gravity. 'I shall not be many yards off--just round the corner, and +across the market-place. No, no, Miss Polly; you will not get rid of me +so easily. I mean to direct your studies, haunt your play-time, and be +the cross old Mentor, as Olive calls me.' + +'Oh, I am so glad!' returned the girl earnestly, and with a sparkle of +pleasure in her eyes. 'I like you so much already that I could not bear +you to do wrong.' + +It was Heriot's turn to look puzzled. + +'Would it not be wrong,' she returned, answering the look, 'when papa +trusted me to you, and told me on his deathbed that you would be my +second father, if you were to send me right away from you, and take no +notice of me at all!' + +'I should hardly do that in any case,' returned her guardian, seriously. +'What a downright, unconventional little soul you are, Polly! You may +set your mind at rest; your father's trust shall be redeemed, his child +shall never be neglected by me. But come--you have not made Miss +Lambert's acquaintance. I hope you mean to tell her next you like her.' + +'She looks good, but sad--are you sad?' touching Mildred's sleeve +timidly. + +'A little. I have been in trouble, like you, and have lost my mother,' +replied Milly, simply; but she was not prepared for the suddenness with +which the girl threw her arms round her neck and kissed her. + +'I might have thought--your black dress and pale face,' she murmured +remorsefully. 'Every one is sad, every one is in trouble--myself, my +guardian, and you.' + +'But you are the youngest--it falls heaviest on you.' + +'What am I to call you? I don't like Miss Lambert, it sounds stiff,' +with a little shrug and movement of the hands, rather graceful than +otherwise. + +'I shall be Aunt Milly to the others, why not to you?' returned Mildred, +smiling. + +'Ah, that sounds nice. Papa had a sister, only she died; I used to call +her Aunt Amy. Aunt Milly! ah, I can say that easily; it makes me feel at +home, somehow. Am I to come home with you to-day, Aunt Milly?' + +'Yes, my dear.' Milly absolutely blushed with pleasure at hearing +herself so addressed. 'I am not going to my new home for three weeks, +but I shall be glad of your company, if you will come and help me.' + +'Poor Mr. Fabian will be sorry, but he is expecting to lose me. There is +one thing more I must ask, Aunt Milly.' + +'A dozen if you will, dear.' + +'Oh, but this is a great thing. Oh, please, dear Aunt Milly, may I bring +Rag and Tatters?' And as Mildred looked too astonished for reply, she +continued, hurriedly: 'Tatters never left papa for an instant, he was +licking his hand when he died; and Rag is such a dear old thing. I could +not be happy anywhere without my pets.' And without waiting for an +answer she left the room; and the next instant the light, springy tread +was heard in company with a joyous scuffling and barking; then a large +shaggy terrier burst into the room, and Polly followed with a great +tortoise-shell cat in her arms. + +'Isn't Rag handsome, except for this?' touching the animal where a scrap +of fur had been rudely mauled off, and presented a bald appearance; 'he +has lost the sight of one eye too. Veteran Rag, we used to call him. He +is so fond of me, and follows me like a dog; he used to go out with me +in Dresden, only the dogs hunted him.' + +'You may bring your pets, Polly,' was Mildred's indulgent answer; 'I +think I can answer for my brother's goodwill.' + +Dr. Heriot shook his head at her laughingly. + +'I am afraid you are no rigid disciplinarian, Miss Lambert; but it is +"Love me, love my dog" with Polly, I expect. Now, my child, you must get +ready for the flitting, while I go in search of Mr. Fabian. From the +cloud of tobacco-smoke that met us on entering, I fancy he is on the +next story.' + +'He is with the Rogers, I expect. His model disappointed him, and he is +not working to-day. If you will wait a moment, I will fetch him.' + +'What an original character!' observed Dr. Heriot as the door closed. + +'A loveable one,' was Mildred's rejoinder. She was interested and roused +by the new phase of life presented to her to-day. She looked on amused, +yet touched, when Polly returned, leading by the hand her +pseudo-guardian--a tall old man, with fiery eyes and scanty gray hair +falling down his neck, in a patched dressing-gown that had once been a +gorgeous Turkey-red. It was the first time that the simple woman had +gazed on genius down-at-heel, and faring on the dry crust of unrequited +self-respect. + +'There is my Cain, sir; a new conception--unfinished, if you will--but +you may trace the idea I am feebly striving to carry out. Sometimes I +fancy it will be my last bit of work. Look at that dimly-traced figure +beside the murderer--that is his good angel, who is to accompany the +branded one in his life-long exile. I always believed in Cain's +repentance--see the remorse in his eyes. I caught that expression on a +Spanish sailor's face when he had stabbed his mate in a drunken brawl. I +saw my Cain then.' + +Needy genius could be garrulous, as Mildred found. The old man warmed at +Polly's open-eyed admiration and Mildred's softly-uttered praise; +appreciation was to him what meat and drink would be to more material +natures. He looked almost majestic as he stood before them, in his +ragged dressing-gown, descanting on the merits of his Tobit, that had +sold for an old song. 'A Neapolitan fisher-boy had sat for my angel; +every one paints angels with yellow hair and womanish faces, but I am +not one of those that must follow the beaten track--I formed my angel on +the loftiest ideal of Italian beauty, and got sneered at for my pains. +One ought to coin a new proverb nowadays, Dr. Heriot--Originality moves +contempt. People said the subject was not a taking one; Tobit was too +much like an old clothes man, or a veritable descendant of Moses and +Sons. There was no end to the quips and jeers; even our set had a notion +it would not do, and I sold it to a dealer at a sum that would hardly +cover a month's rent,' finished the old man, with a mixture of pathos +and dignity. + +'After all, public taste is a sort of lottery,' observed Dr. Heriot; +'true genius is not always requited in this world, if it offends the +tender prejudices of preconceived ideas.' + +'The worship of the golden image fills up too large a space in the +market-place,' replied Mr. Fabian, solemnly, 'while the blare of +instruments covers the fetish-adoration of its votaries. The world is an +eating and drinking and money-getting world, and art, cramped and +stifled, goes to the wall.' + +'Nay, nay; I have not so bad an opinion of my generation as all that,' +interposed Dr. Heriot, smiling. 'I have great faith in the underlying +goodness of mankind. One has to break through a very stiff outer-crust, +I grant you; but there are soft places to be found in most natures.' +And, as the other shook his head--'Want of success has made you a little +down-hearted on the subject of our human charities, Mr. Fabian; but +there is plenty of reverence and art-worship in the world still. I +predict a turn of the wheel in your case yet. Cain may still glower down +on us from the walls of the Royal Academy.' + +'I hope so, before the hand has lost its cunning. But I am too +egotistical. And so you are going to take Polly from me--from Dad +Fabian, ay?'--looking at the young girl fondly. + +'Indeed, Mr. Fabian, I must thank you for your goodness to my ward. Poor +child! she would have fared badly without it. Polly, you must ask Miss +Lambert to bring you to see this kind friend again.' + +'Nay, nay; this is a poor place for ladies to visit,' replied the other, +hastily, as he brushed away the fragment of a piece of snuff with a +trembling hand; but he looked gratified, notwithstanding. 'Polly has +been a good girl--a very good girl--and weathered gallantly through a +very ticklish illness, though some of us thought she would never reach +England alive.' + +'Were you so ill, Polly?' inquired her guardian anxiously. + +'Dad Fabian says so; and he ought to know, for he and Mrs. Rogers nursed +me. Oh, he was so good to me,' continued Polly, clinging to him. 'He +used to sit up with me part of the night and tell me stories when I got +better, and go without his dinner sometimes to buy me fruit. Mrs. Rogers +was good-natured, too; but she was noisy. I like Dad Fabian's nursing +best.' + +'You see she fretted for her father,' interposed the artist. 'Polly's +one of the right sort--never gives way while there is work to be done; +and so the strain broke her down. She has lost most of her pretty hair. +Ellison used to be so proud of her curls; but it suits her, somehow. But +you must not keep your new friends waiting, my child. There, God bless +you! We shall be seeing you back again here one of these days, I dare +say.' + +Mildred felt as though her new life had begun from the moment the young +stranger crossed her threshold. Polly bade her guardian good-bye the +next day with unfeigned regret. 'I shall always feel I belong to him, +though he cannot have me to live with him,' she said, as she followed +Mildred into the house. 'Papa told me to love him, and I will. He is +different, somehow, from what I expected,' she continued. 'I thought he +would be gray-haired, like papa. He looks younger, and is not tall. Papa +was such a grand-looking man, and so handsome; but he has kind eyes--has +he not, Aunt Milly?--and speaks so gently.' + +Mildred was quite ready to pronounce an eulogium on Dr. Heriot. She had +already formed a high estimate of her brother's friend; his ready +courtesy and highly-bred manners had given her a pleasing impression, +while his gentleness to his ward, and a certain lofty tone of mind in +his conversation, proved him a man of good heart and of undoubted +ability. There was a latent humour at times discernible, and a certain +caustic wit, which, tinged as it was with melancholy, was highly +attractive. She felt that a man who had contrived to satisfy Betha's +somewhat fastidious taste could not fail to be above the ordinary +standard, and, though she did not quite echo Polly's enthusiasm, she was +able to respond sympathetically to the girl's louder praise. + +Before many days were over Polly had transferred a large portion of +loving allegiance to Mildred herself. Women--that is, ladies--had not +been very plentiful in her small circle. One or two of the artists' +wives had been kind to her; but Polly, who was an aristocrat by nature, +had rather rebelled against their want of refinement, and discovered +flaws which showed that, young as she was, she had plenty of +discernment. + +'Mrs. Rogers was noisy, and showed all her teeth when she laughed, and +tramped as she walked--in this way;' and Polly brought a very slender +foot to prove the argument. And Mrs. Hornby? Oh, she did not care for +Mrs. Hornby much--'she thought of nothing but smart dresses, and dining +at the restaurant, and she used such funny words--that men use, you +know. Papa never cared for me to be with her much; but he liked Mrs. +Rogers, though she fidgeted him dreadfully.' + +Mildred listened, amused and interested, to the girl's prattle. The +young creature on the stool at her feet was conversant with a life of +which she knew nothing, except from books. Polly would chatter for hours +together of picture-galleries and museums, and little feasts set out in +illuminated gardens, and of great lonely churches with swinging lamps, +and little tawdry shrines. Monks and nuns came familiarly into her +reminiscences. She had had _gateau_ and cherries in a convent-garden +once, and had swung among apple-blossoms in an orchard belonging to one. + +'I used to think I should like to be a nun once,' prattled Polly, 'and +wear a great white flapping cap, as they did in Belgium. Soeur Marie +used to be so kind. I shall never forget that long, straight lime-walk, +where the girls used to take their recreation, or sit under the +cherry-trees with their lace-work, while Soeur Marie read the lives of +the saints. Do you like reading the lives of the saints, Aunt Milly? I +don't. They are glorious, of course; but it pains me to know how +uncomfortable they made themselves.' + +'I do not think I have ever read any, Polly.' + +'Have you not?'--with a surprised arching of the brows. 'Soeur Marie +thought them the finest books in the world. She used to tell me stories +of many of them; and her face would flush and her eyes grow so bright, I +used to think she was a saint herself.' + +Mildred rarely interrupted the girl's narratives; but little bits +haunted her now and then, and lingered in her memory with tender +persistence. What sober prose her life seemed in contrast to that of +this fourteen-years' old girl! How bare and empty seemed her niche +compared to Polly's series of pictures! How clearly Mildred could see it +all! The wandering artist-life, in search of the beautiful, poverty +oppressing the mind less sadly when refreshed by novel scenes of +interest; the grave, taciturn Philip Ellison, banishing himself and his +pride in a self-chosen exile, and training his motherless child to the +same exclusiveness. + +The few humble friends, grouped under the same roof, and sharing the +same obscurity; stretching out the right hand of fellowship, which was +grasped, not cordially, but with a certain protest, the little room +which Polly described so graphically being a less favourite resort than +the one where Dad Fabian was painting his Tobit. + +'It was only after papa got so ill that Mrs. Rogers would bring up her +work and sit with us. Papa did not like it much; but he was so heavy +that I could not lift him alone, and, noisy as she was, she knew how to +cheer him up. Dad suited papa best: they used to talk so beautifully +together. You have no idea how Dad can talk, and how clever he is. Papa +used to say he was one of nature's gentlemen. His father was only a +working man, you know;' and Polly drew herself up with a gesture Mildred +had noticed before, and which was to draw upon her later the +_soubriquet_ of 'the princess.' + +'I think none the less of him for that,' returned Mildred, with gentle +reproof. + +'You are not like papa then,' observed Polly, with one of her pretty +gestures of dissent. 'It fretted him so being with people not nice in +their ways. The others would call him milord, and laugh at his grand +manners; but all the same they were afraid of him; every one feared him +but I; and I only loved him,' finished Polly, with one of her girlish +outbursts of emotion, which could only be soothed by extra petting on +Mildred's part. + +Mildred's soft heart was full of compassion for the lonely girl. Polly, +who cried herself to sleep every night for the longing for her lost +father, often woke to find Mildred sitting beside her bed watching her. + +'You were sleeping so restlessly, I thought I would look in on you,' was +all she said; but her motherly kiss spoke volumes. + +'How good you are to me, Aunt Milly,' Polly would say to her sometimes. +'I am getting to love you more every day; and then your voice is so +soft, and you have such nice ways. I think I shall be happy living with +you, and seeing my guardian every day; but we don't want Olive and +Chrissy, do we?'--for Mildred had described the vicarage and its +inhabitants--'It will feel as though we were in a beehive after this +quiet little nest,' as she observed once. Mildred smiled, as she always +did over Polly's quaint speeches, which were ripe at times with an +old-fashioned wisdom, gathered from the stored garner of age. She would +ponder over them sometimes in her slow way, when the girl was sleeping +her wet-eyed sleep. + +Would it come to her to regret the quietness of life which she was +laying by for ever as a garment that had galled and fretted her?--that +life she had inwardly compared to a dead mill-stream, flecked only by +the shadow and sunlight of perpetually recurring days? Would there come +a time when the burden and heat of the day would oppress her?--when the +load of existence would be too heavy to bear, and even this retrospect +of faint gray distances would seem fair by contrast? + +Women who lead contemplative and sedentary lives are overmuch given to +this sort of morbid self-questioning. They are for ever examining the +spiritual mechanism of their own natures, with the same result as though +one took up a feeble and growing plant by the root to judge of its +progress. They spend labour for that which is not bread. By and by, out +of the vigour of her busy life, Mildred learnt the wholesome sweetness +of a motto she ever afterwards cherished as her favourite: _Laborare est +orare_. Polly's questions, direct or indirect, sometimes ruffled the +elder woman's tranquillity, however gently she might put them by. 'Were +you ever a girl, Aunt Milly?--a girl like me, I mean?' And as Mildred +bit her lip and coloured slightly at a question that would have galled +any woman of eight-and-twenty, she continued, caressingly, 'You are so +nice; only just a trifle too solemn. I think, after all, I would rather +be Polly than you. You seem to have had no pictures in your life.' + +'My dear child, what do you mean?' returned Mildred; but she spoke with +a little effort. + +'I mean, you don't seem to have lived out pretty little bits, as I have. +You have walked every day over that common and down those long white +sunny roads, where there is nothing to imagine, unless one stares up at +the clouds--just clouds and dust and wheel-ruts. You have never gone +through a forest by moonlight, as I have, and stopped at a little +rickety inn, with a dozen _Jäger_ drinking _lager-bier_ under the +linden-trees, and the peasants dancing in their _sabots_ on a strip of +lawn. You have never----' continued Polly breathlessly; but Mildred +interrupted her. + +'Stop, Polly; I love your reminiscences; but I want to ask you a +question. Is that all you saw in our walk to-day--clouds and dust and +wheel-ruts?' + +'I saw a hand-organ and a lazy monkey, and a brass band, driving me +frantic. It made me feel--oh, I can't tell you how I felt,' returned +Polly, with a grimace, and putting up her hands to her delicate little +ears. + +'The music was bad, certainly; but I found plenty to admire in our +walk.' + +Polly opened her eyes. 'You are not serious, Aunt Milly.' + +'Let me see: we went across the common, and then on. My pictures are +very humble ones, Polly; but I framed at least half-a-dozen for my +evening's refreshment.' + +Polly drew herself up a little scornfully. 'I don't admire monkeys, Aunt +Milly.' + +'What sort of eyes have you, child?' replied Mildred, who had recovered +her cheerfulness. 'Do you mean that you did not see that old blind man +with the white beard, and, evidently, his little grand-daughter, at his +knees, just before we crossed the common?' + +'Yes; I noticed she was a pretty child,' returned Polly, with reluctant +candour. + +'She and her blue hood and tippet, and the great yellow mongrel dog at +her feet, made a pretty little sketch, all by themselves; and then, when +we went on a little farther, there was the old gipsy-woman, with a +handsome young ne'er-do-weel of a boy. Let me tell you, Polly, Mr. +Fabian would have made something of his brown skin and rags. Oh, what +rags!' + +'She was a horrid old woman,' put in Polly, rather crossly. + +'Granted; but, with a clump of fir-trees behind her, and a bit of +sunset-clouds, she made up a striking picture. After that we came on a +flock of sheep. One of them had got caught in a furze-bush, and was +bleating terribly. We stood looking at it for full a minute before the +navvy kindly rescued it.' + +'I was sorry for the poor animal, of course. But, Aunt Milly, I don't +call that much of a picture.' + +'Nevertheless, it reminded me of the one that hangs in my room. To my +thinking it was highly suggestive; all the more, that it was an old +sheep, and had such a foolish, confiding face. We are never too old to +go astray,' continued Mildred, dreamily. + +'Three pictures, at least we have finished now,' asked Polly, +impatiently. + +'Finished! I could multiply that number threefold! Why, there was the +hay-stack, with the young heifers round it; and that red-tiled cottage, +with the pigeons tumbling and wheeling round the roof, and the +flower-girl asleep on my own doorstep, with the laburnum shedding its +yellow petals on her lap, to the great delight of the poor sickly baby. +Come, Polly; who made the most of their eyes this evening? Only clouds, +dust, and wheel-ruts, eh?' + +'You are too wise for me, Aunt Milly. Who would have thought you could +have seen all that? Dad Fabian ought to have heard you talk! We must go +out to-morrow evening, and you shall show me some more pictures. But +doesn't it strike you, Aunt Milly'--leaning her dimpled chin on her +hand--'that you have made the most of very poor material? After +all'--triumphantly--'there is not much in your pictures!' + + + + +CHAPTER III + +VIĀ TEBAY + + 'All the land in flowing squares. + Beneath a broad and equal blowing wind, + Smelt of the coming summer, as one large cloud + Drew downward; but all else of heaven was pure + Up to the sun, and May from verge to verge, + And May with me from head to heel. + + * * * * * + + To left and right + The cuckoo told his name to all the hills, + The mellow ouzel fluted in the elm, + The redcap whistled, and the nightingale + Sung loud, as though he were the bird of day.'--Tennyson. + + +'Aunt Milly, I can breathe now. Oh, how beautiful!' and Polly clapped +her hands with girlish glee, as the train slowly steamed into Tebay +Junction, the gray old station lying snugly among the green Westmorland +hills. + +'Oh, my dear, hush! who is that tall youth taking off his hat to us? not +Roy, surely, it must be Richard. Think of not knowing my own nephews!' +and Mildred looked distressed and puzzled. + +'Now, Aunt Milly, don't put yourself out; if this stupid door would only +open, I would get out and ask him myself. Oh, thank you,' as the youth +in question hurried forward to perform that necessary service, looking +at her, at the same time, rather curiously. 'If you please, Aunt Milly +wants to know if you are Roy or Richard.' + +'Roy,' was the prompt answer. 'What, are you Polly, and is that Aunt +Milly behind you? For shame, Aunt Milly, not to know me when I took my +hat off to you at least three minutes ago;' but Roy had the grace to +blush a little over this audacious statement as he helped Mildred out, +and returned her warm grasp of the hand. + +'My dear boy, how could you have known us, and Polly, a perfect +stranger, too?' + +Roy burst into a ringing laugh. + +'Why you see, Aunt Milly, one never loses by a little extra attention; +it always pays in the long run. I just took off my hat at random as the +train came in sight, and there, as it happened, was Polly's face glued +against the window. So I was right, and you were gratified!' + +'Now I am sure it is Roy.' + +'Roy, Rex, or Sauce Royal, as they called me at Sedbergh. Well, Miss +Polly,' with another curious look, 'we are _bonā fide_ adopted cousins, +as Dr. John says, so we may as well shake hands.' + +'Humph,' was Polly's sole answer, as she gave her hand with the air of a +small duchess, over which Roy grimaced slightly; and then with a cordial +inflection of voice, as he turned to Mildred-- + +'Welcome to Westmorland, Aunt Milly--both of you, I mean; and I hope you +will like us, as much as we shall like you.' + +'Thank you, my boy; and to think I mistook you for Richard! How tall you +have grown, Royal.' + +'Ah, I was a bit of a lad when you were down here last. I am afraid I +should not have recognised you, Aunt Milly, but for Polly. Well, what is +it? you look disturbed; there is a vision of lost boxes in your eyes; +there, I knew I was right; don't be afraid, we are known here, and +Barton will look after all your belongings.' + +'But how long are we to remain? Polly is tired, poor child, and so am +I.' + +'You should have come by York, as Richard told you; always follow +Richard's advice, and you will never do wrong, so he thinks; now you +have two hours to wait, and yourself to thank, and only my pleasing +conversation to while away the time.' + +'You hard-hearted boy; can't you see Aunt Milly is ready to drop?' broke +in Polly, indignantly; 'how were we to know you lived so near the North +Pole? My guardian ought to have met us,' continued the little lady, with +dignity; 'he would have known what to have done for Aunt Milly.' + +Roy stared, and then burst into his ready, good-humoured laugh. + +'Whew! what a little termagant! Of course you are tired--women always +are; take my arm, Aunt Milly; lean on me; now we will go and have some +tea; let us know when the train starts, Barton, and look us out a +comfortable compartment;' and, so saying, Roy hurried his charges away; +Mildred's tired eyes resting admiringly on the long range of low, gray +buildings, picturesque, and strangely quiet, backed by the vivid green +of the great circling hills, which, to the eyes of southerners, invested +Tebay Junction with unusual interest. + +The refreshment-room was empty; there was a pleasant jingling of cups +and spoons behind the bar; in a twinkling the spotless white table-cloth +was covered with home-made bread, butter, and ham, and even Polly's brow +cleared like magic as she sipped her hot tea, and brought her healthy +girlish appetite to bear on the tempting Westmorland cakes. + +'There, Dr. John or Dick himself couldn't be a better squire of dames,' +observed Roy, complacently. 'Aunt Milly, when you have left off admiring +me, just close your eyes to your surroundings a little while--it will do +you no end of good.' + +Roy was rattling on almost boisterously, Mildred thought; but she was +right in attributing much of it to nervousness. Roy's light-heartedness +was assumed for the time; in reality, his sensitive nature was deeply +touched by this meeting with his aunt; his four-months'-old trouble was +still too recent to bear the least allusion. Betha's children were not +likely to forget her, and Roy, warmly as he welcomed his father's +sister, could not fail to remember whose place it was she would try so +inadequately to fill. Jokes never came amiss to Roy, and he had the +usual boyish dislike to show his feelings; but he was none the less sore +at heart, and the quick impatient sigh that was now and then jerked out +in the brief pauses of conversation spoke volumes to Mildred. + +'You are so like your mother,' she said, softly; but the boy's lip +quivered, and he turned so pale, that Mildred did not venture to say +more; she only looked at him with the sort of yearning pride that women +feel in those who are their own flesh and blood. + +'He is not a bit like Arnold, he is Betha's boy,' she thought to +herself; 'her "long laddie," as she used to call him. I dare say he is +weak and impulsive. Those sort of faces generally tell their own story +pretty correctly;' and the thought crossed her, that perhaps one of Dad +Fabian's womanish angels might have had the fair hair, long pale face, +and sleepy blue eyes, which were Roy's chief characteristics, and which +were striking enough in their way. + +Polly, who had soon got over her brief animosity, was now chattering to +him freely enough. + +'I think you will do, for a country boy,' she observed, patronisingly; +'people who live among the mountains are generally free and easy, and +not as polished as those who live in cities,' continued Polly, uttering +this sententious plagiarism as innocently as though it were the product +of her own wisdom. + +'Such kind of borrowing as this, if it be not bettered by the borrower, +among good authors, is accounted plagiary; see Milton,' said the boy, +fresh from Sedbergh, with a portentous frown, assumed for the occasion. +'Name your reference. I repel such vile insinuations, Miss Polly, as I +am a Westmorland boy.' + +'I learnt that in my dictation,' returned Polly, vexed, but too candid +for reticence; 'but Dad Fabian used to say the same thing; please don't +stroke Veteran Rag the wrong way, he does not like it.' + +'Poor old Veteran, he has won some scars, I see. I am afraid you are a +character, Polly. Rag and Tatters, and copybook wisdom, well-thumbed and +learnt, and then retailed as the original article. I wish Dr. John could +hear you; he would put you through your paces.' + +'Who is Dr. John?' asked Polly, coming down a little from her stilts, +and evidently relenting in favour of Roy's handsome face. + +'Oh, Dr. John is Dr. John, unless you choose to do as the world does, +and call him Dr. Heriot; he is Dr. John to us; after all, what's in a +name?' + +'I like my guardian to be called Dr. Heriot best; the other sounds +disrespectful and silly.' + +'We did not know your opinion before, you see,' returned Roy, with a +slight drawl, and almost closing his eyes; 'if you could have +telegraphed your wish to us three or four years ago it might have been +different; but with the strict conservative feeling prevalent at the +vicarage, I am afraid Dr. John it will remain, unless,' meditating +deeply; 'but no, he might not like it.' + +'What?' + +'Well, we might make it Dr. Jack, you know.' + +'After all, boys are nothing but plagues,' returned Polly, scornfully. + +'"Playa, plagua, plague, _et cetera, et cetera_, that which smites or +wounds; any afflictive evil or calamity; a great trial or vexation; also +an acute malignant febrile disease, that often prevails in Egypt, Syria, +and Turkey, and that has at times prevailed in the large cities of +Europe, with frightful mortality; hence any pestilence." Have you +swallowed Webster's _Dictionary_, Polly?' + +'My dears, I hope you do not mean to quarrel already?' + +'We are only sounding the depths of each other's wisdom. Polly is +awfully shallow, Aunt Milly; the sort of person, you know, who utilises +all the scraps. Wait till she sits at the feet of Gamaliel--Dr. John, I +mean; he is the one for finding out "all is not gold that glitters."' + +Mildred smiled. 'Let them fight it out,' she thought; 'no one can resist +long the charm of Polly's perfect honesty, and her pride is a little too +thin-skinned for daily comfort; good-natured raillery will be a +wholesome tonic. What a clever boy he is! only seventeen, too,' and she +shook her head indulgently at Roy. + +'Kirkby Stephen train starts, sir; all the luggage in; this way for the +ladies.' + +'Quick-march; down with you, Tatters; lie there, good dog. Don't let the +grass grow under your feet, Aunt Milly; there's a providential escape +for two tired and dusty Londoners. Next compartment, Andrews,' as the +red-coated guard bore down on their carriage. 'There, Aunt Milly,' with +an exquisite consideration that would have become Dr. John himself, 'I +have deferred an introduction to the squire himself.' + +'My dear Roy, how thoughtful of you. I am in no mood for introductions, +certainly,' returned Mildred, gratefully. + +'Women never are unless they have on their best bonnets; and, to tell +you the truth,' continued the incorrigible Roy, 'Mr. Trelawny is the +sort of man for whom one always furbishes up one's company manners. As +Dr. John says, there is nothing slip-shod, or in _deshabille_, in him. +Everything about him is so terribly perfect.' + +'Roy, Roy, what a quiz you are!' + +'Hush, there they come; the Lady of the Towers herself, Ethel the +Magnificent; the weaver of yards of flimsy verse, patched with rags and +shreds of wisdom, after Polly's fashion. Did you catch a glimpse of our +notabilities, Aunt Milly?' + +Mildred answered yes; she had caught a glimpse over Roy's shoulder of a +tall, thin, aristocratic-looking man; but the long sweep of silk drapery +and the outline of a pale face were all that she could see of the lady +with him. + +She began to wish that Roy would be a little less garrulous as the train +moved out of Tebay station, and bore them swiftly to their destination; +she was nerving herself for the meeting with her brother, and the sight +of the vicarage without the presence of its dearly-loved mistress, while +the view began to open so enchantingly before them on either side, that +she would willingly have enjoyed it in silence. But Polly was less +reticent, and her enthusiasm pleased Roy. + +'You see we are in the valley of the Lune,' he explained, his +grandiloquence giving place to boyish earnestness. 'Ours is one of the +loveliest spots in the whole district. Now we are at the bottom of +Ravenstone-dale, out of which it used to be said that the people would +never allow a good cow to go, or a rich heiress to be taken; and then we +shall come to Smardale Gill. Is it not pretty, with its clear little +stream running at the bottom, and its sides covered with brushwood? Now +we are in my father's parish,' exclaimed Roy, eagerly, as the train +swept over the viaduct. 'And now look out for Smardale Hall on the +right; once the residents were grand enough to have a portion of the +church to themselves, and it is still called Smardale Chapel; the whole +is now occupied by a farmhouse. Ah, now we are near the station. Do you +see that castellated building? that is Kirkleatham House, the Trelawnys' +place. Now look out for Dick, Aunt Milly. There he is! I thought so, he +has spotted the Lady of the Towers.' + +'My dear, is that Richard?' as a short and rather square-shouldered +young man, but decidedly good-looking, doffed his straw hat in answer to +some unseen greeting, and then peered inquiringly into their +compartment. + +'Ah, there you are, Rex. Have you brought them? How do you do, Aunt +Milly? Is that young lady with you Miss Ellison?' and he shook hands +rather formally, and without looking at Polly. 'I hope you did not find +your long stay at Tebay very wearisome. Did you give them some tea, Rex? +That's right. Please come with me, Aunt Milly; our waggonette is waiting +at the top of the steps.' + +'Oh, Richard, I wish you were not all such strangers to me!' Mildred +could not have helped that involuntary exclamation which came out of the +fulness of her heart. Her elder nephew was walking gravely by her side, +with slow even strides; he looked up a little surprised. + +'I suppose we must be that. After seven years' absence you will find us +all greatly changed of course. I remember you perfectly, but then I was +fourteen when you paid your last visit.' + +'You remember me? I hardly expected to hear you say that,' and Mildred +felt a glow of pleasure which all Roy's friendliness had not called +forth. + +'You are looking older--and as Dr. Heriot told us, somewhat ill; but it +is the same face of course. My father will be glad to welcome you, Aunt +Milly.' + +'And you?' + +His dark face flushed, and he looked a little discomfited. Mildred felt +sorry she had asked the question, it would offend his reticence. + +'It is early days for any of us to be glad about anything,' he returned +with effort. 'I think for my father's and the girls' sake, your coming +could not be too soon; you will not complain of our lack of welcome I +hope, though some of us may be a little backward in acting up to it.' + +'He is speaking of himself,' thought Mildred, and she answered the +unspoken thought very tenderly. 'You need not fear my misunderstanding +you, Richard; if you will let me be your friend as well as the others', +I shall be glad: but no one can fill her place.' + +He started, and drew his straw hat nervously over his brow. 'Thank you, +Aunt Milly,' was all he said, as he placed her in the waggonette, and +took the driver's seat on the box. + +'There are changes even here, Aunt Milly,' observed Roy, who had seated +himself opposite to her for the purpose of making pertinent observations +on the various landmarks they passed, and he pointed to the long row of +modern stuccoed and decidedly third-class villas springing tip near the +station. 'The new line brings this. We are in the suburbs of Kirkby +Stephen, and I dare say you hardly know where you are;' a fact which +Mildred could not deny, though recognition dawned on her senses, as the +low stone houses and whitewashed cottages came in sight; and then the +wide street paved with small blue cobbles out of the river, and small +old-fashioned shops, and a few gray bay-windowed houses bearing the +stamp of age, and well-worn respectability. Ah, there was the +market-place, with the children playing as usual round the old pump, and +the group of loiterers sunning themselves outside the Red Lion. Through +the grating and low archway of the empty butter-market Mildred could see +the grass-grown paths and gleaming tombstones and the gray tower of the +grand old church itself. The approach to the vicarage was singularly +ill-adapted to any but pedestrians. It required a steady hand and eye to +guide a pair of spirited horses round the sharp angles of the narrow +winding alley, but the little country-bred browns knew their work. The +vicarage gates were wide open, and two black figures were shading their +eyes in the porch. But Richard, instead of driving in at the gate, +reined in his horses so suddenly that he nearly brought them on their +haunches, and leaning backward over the box, pointed with his whip +across the road. + +'There is my father taking his usual evening stroll--never mind the +girls, Aunt Milly. I dare say you would rather meet him alone.' + +Mildred stood up and steadied herself by laying a hand on Richard's +shoulder. The sun was setting, and the gray old church stood out in fine +relief in the warm evening light, blue breadths of sky behind it, and +shifting golden lines of sunny clouds in the distance; while down the +quiet paths, bareheaded and with hands folded behind his back, was a +tall stooping figure, with scanty gray hair falling low on his neck, +walking to and fro, with measured, uneven tread. + +The hand on Richard's shoulder shook visibly; Mildred was trembling all +over. + +'Arnold! Oh, how old he looks! How thin and bowed! Oh, my poor brother.' + +'You must make allowance for the shock he has had--that we have all +had,' returned Richard in a soothing tone. 'He always walks like this, +and at the same time. Go to him, Aunt Milly, it does him good to be +roused.' + +Mildred obeyed, though her limbs moved stiffly; the little gate swung +behind her; a tame goat browsing among the tombs bleated and strained at +its tether as she passed; but the figure she followed still continued +its slow, monotonous walk. + +Mildred shrunk back for a moment into the deep church porch to pause and +recover herself. At the end of the path there were steps and an unused +gate leading to the market; he must turn then. + +How quiet and peaceful it all looked! The dark range of school buildings +buried in shadow, the sombre line of houses closing in two sides of the +churchyard. Behind the vicarage the purple-rimmed hills just fading into +indistinctness. Up and down the stone alley some children were playing, +one wee toddling mite was peeping through the railings at Mildred. The +goat still bleated in the distance; a large blue-black terrier swept in +hot pursuit of his master. + +'Ah, Pupsie, have you found me? The evenings are chilly still; so, so, +old dog, we will go in.' + +Mildred waited for a moment and then glided out from the porch--he +turned, saw her, and held out his arms without a word. + +Mr. Lambert was the first to recover himself; for Mildred's tears, +always long in coming, were now falling like rain. + +'A sad welcome, my dear; but there, she would not have us grieving like +this.' + +'Oh, Arnold, how you have suffered! I never realised how much, till +Richard stopped the horses, and then I saw you walking alone in the +churchyard. The dews are falling, and you are bareheaded. You should +take better care of yourself, for the children's sake.' + +'Ay, ay; just what she said; but it has grown into a sort of habit with +me. Cardie comes and fetches me in, night after night; the lad is a good +lad; his mother was right after all.' + +'Dear Betha; but you have not laid her here, Arnold?' + +He shook his head. + +'I could not, Mildred, though she wished it as much as I did. She often +said she would like to lie within sight of the home where she had been +so happy, and under the shadow of the church porch. She liked the +thought of her children's feet passing so near her on their way to +church, but I had no power to carry out her wish.' + +'You mean the churchyard is closed?' + +'Yes, owing to the increase of population, the influx of railway +labourers, and the union workhouse, deaths in the parish became so +numerous that there was danger of overcrowding. She lies in the +cemetery.' + +'Ah! I remember.' + +'I do not think her funeral will ever be forgotten; people came for +miles round to pay their last homage to my darling. One old woman over +eighty came all the way from Castlesteads to see her last of "the +gradely leddy," as she called her. You should have seen it, to know how +she was loved.' + +'She made you very happy while she lived, Arnold!' + +'Too happy!--look at me now. I have the children, of course, poor +things; but in losing her, I feel I have lost the best of everything, +and must walk for ever in the shadow.' + +He spoke in the vague musing tone that had grown on him of late, and +which was new to Mildred--the worn, set features and gray hair +contrasted strangely with the vivid brightness of his eyes, at once keen +and youthful; he had been a man in the prime of life, vigorous and +strong, when Mildred had seen him last; but a long illness and deadly +sorrow had wasted his energy, and bowed his upright figure, as though +the weight were physical as well as mental. + +'But this is a poor welcome, Milly; and you must be tired and starved +after your day's journey. You are not looking robust either, my +dear--not a trace of the old blooming Milly' (touching her thin cheek +sorrowfully). 'Well, well, the children must take care of you, and we'll +get Dr. Heriot to prescribe. Has the child come with you after all?' + +Mildred signified assent. + +'I am glad of it. Thank you heartily for your ready help, Milly; we +would do anything for Heriot; the boys treat him as a sort of elder +brother, and the girls are fond of him, though they lead him a life +sometimes. He is very grateful to you, and says you have lifted a +mountain off him. Is the girl a nice girl, eh?' + +'I must leave you to judge of that. She has interested me, at any rate; +she is thoroughly loveable.' + +'She will shake down among the others, and become one of us, I hope. Ah! +well, that will be your department, Mildred. + +I am not much to be depended on for anything but parish matters. When a +man loses hope and energy it is all up with him.' + +The little gate swung after them as he spoke; the flower-bordered +courtyard before the vicarage seemed half full of moving figures as they +crossed the road; and in another moment Mildred was greeting her nieces, +and introducing Polly to her brother. + +'I cannot be expected to remember you both,' she said, as Olive timidly, +and Christine rather coldly, returned her kiss. 'You were such little +girls when I last saw you.' + +But with Mildred's tone of benevolence there mingled a little dismay. +Betha's girls were decidedly odd. + +Olive, who was a year older than Polly, and who was quite a head taller, +had just gained the thin ungainly age, when to the eyes of anxious +guardians the extremities appear in the light of afflictive +dispensations; and premature old age is symbolised by the rounded and +stooping shoulders, and sunken chest; the age of trodden-down heels and +ragged finger-ends, when the glory of the woman, as St. Paul calls it, +instead of being coiled into smooth knots, or swept round in faultless +plaits, of coroneted beauty, presents a vista of frayed ends and +multitudinous hair-pins. Olive's loosely-dropping hair and dark cloudy +face gave Mildred a shock; the girl was plain too, though the irregular +features beamed at times with a look of intelligence. Christine, who was +two years younger, and much better-looking, in spite of a rough, +yellowish mane, had an odd, original face, a pert nose, argumentative +chin, and restless dark eyes, which already looked critically at persons +and things. 'Contradiction Chriss,' as the boys called her, was +certainly a character in her way. + +'Are you tired, aunt? Will you come in?' asked Olive, in a low voice, +turning a dull sort of red as she spoke. 'Cardie thinks you are, and +supper is ready, and----' + +'I am very tired, dear, and so is Polly,' answered Mildred, cheerfully, +as she followed Olive across the dimly-lighted hall, with its +old-fashioned fireplace and settles; its tables piled up with coats and +hats, which had found their way to the harmonium too. + +They went up the low, broad staircase Mildred remembered so well, with +its carved balustrades and pretty red and white drugget, and the great +blue China jars in the window recesses. + +The study door stood open, and Mildred had a glimpse of the high-backed +chair, and table littered over with papers, before she began ascending +again, and came out into the low-ceiled passage, with deep-set lattice +windows looking on the court and churchyard. + +'Chrissy and I sleep here,' explained Olive, panting slightly from +nervousness, as Mildred looked inquiringly at her. 'We thought--at least +Cardie thought--this little room next to us would do for Miss Ellison.' + +Polly peeped in delightedly. It was small, but cosy, with a +curiously-shaped bedstead--the head having a resemblance to a Latin +cross, with three pegs covered with white dimity. The room was neatly +arranged--a decided contrast to the one they had just passed; and there +was even an effort at decoration, for the black bars of the grate were +entwined with sprays of honesty--the shining, pearly leaves grouped also +in a tall red jar, on the mantelpiece. + +'That is a pretty idea. Was it yours, Olive?' + +Olive nodded. 'Father thought you would like your old room, aunt--the +one he and mother always called yours.' + +The tears came again in Mildred's eyes. Somehow it seemed but yesterday +since Betha welcomed her so warmly, and showed her the room she was +always to call hers. There was the tiny dressing-room, with its distant +view, and the quaint old-fashioned room, with an oaken beam running +across the low ceiling, and its wide bay-window. + +There was the same heartsease paper that Mildred remembered seven years +ago, the same flowery chintz, the curious old quilt, a hundred years +old, covered with twining carnations. The very fringe that edged the +beam spoke to her of a brother's thoughtfulness, while the same hand had +designed the motto which from henceforth was to be Mildred's +own--'_Laborare est orare_.' + +'The lines are fallen to me in pleasant places,' whispered Mildred as +she drew near the window, and stood there spell-bound by the scene, +which, though well-remembered, seemed to come before her with new +beauty. + +Underneath her lay the vicarage garden, with its terrace walk and small, +trim lawn; and down below, half hidden by a steep wooded bank, flowed +the Eden, its pebbly beach lying dry under the low garden wall, but +farther on plashing with silvery gleams through the thick foliage. + +To the right was the footbridge leading to the meadows, and beyond that +the water-mill and the weir; and as far as eye could reach, green +uplands and sweeps of pasturage, belted here and there with trees, and +closing in the distance soft ranges of fells, ridge beyond ridge, fading +now into gray indistinctness, but glorious to look upon when the sun +shone down upon their 'paradise of purple and the golden slopes atween +them,' or the storm clouds, lowering over them, tinged them with darker +violet. + +'A place to live in and die in,' thought Mildred, solemnly, as the last +thing that night she stood looking out into the moonlight. + +The hills were invisible now, but gleams of watery brightness shone +between the trees, and the garden lay flooded in the silver light. A +light wind stirred the foliage with a soft soughing movement, and some +animal straying to the river to drink trod crisply on the dry pebbles. + +'A place where one should think good thoughts and live out one's best +life,' continued Mildred, dreamily. A sigh, almost a groan, from beneath +her open window seemed to answer her unspoken thought; and then a dark +figure moved quietly away. It was Richard! + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +MILDRED'S NEW HOME + + 'Half drowned in sleepy peace it lay, + As satiate with the boundless play + Of sunshine on its green array. + And clear-cut hills of gloomy blue, + To keep it safe, rose up behind, + As with a charmed ring to bind + The grassy sea, where clouds might find + A place to bring their shadows to.'--Jean Ingelow. + + +'Aunt Milly, I have wakened to find myself in Paradise,' were the first +words that greeted Mildred's drowsy senses the next morning; and she +opened her eyes to find the sun streaming in through the great +uncurtained window, and Polly in her white dressing-gown, curled up on +the low chair, gazing out in rapturous contemplation. + +'It must be very early,' observed Mildred, wearily. She was fatigued +with her journey and the long vigil she had kept the preceding night, +and felt a little discontented with the girl's birdlike activity. + +'One ought not to be tired in Paradise,' returned Polly, reprovingly. +'Do people have aches and pains and sore hearts here, I wonder--in the +valley of the Eden, as he called it--and yet Mr. Lambert looks sad +enough, and so does Richard. Do you like Richard, Aunt Milly?' + +'Very much,' returned Mildred, with signs of returning animation in her +voice. + +'Well, he is not bad--for an icicle,' was Polly's quaint retort; 'but I +like Roy best; he is tiresome, of course--all boys are--but oh, those +girls, Aunt Milly!' + +'Well, what of them?' asked Mildred, in an amused voice. 'I am sure you +could not judge of them last night, poor things; they were too shy.' + +'They were dreadful. Oh, Aunt Milly, don't let us talk of them!' + +'I am sure Olive is clever, Polly; her face is full of intelligence. +Christine is a mere child.' + +Polly shrugged her shoulders. She did not care to argue on such an +uninteresting question. The little lady's dainty taste was offended by +the somewhat uncouth appearance of the sisters. She changed the subject +deftly. + +'How the birds are singing! I think the starlings are building their +nests under the roof, they are flying in and out and chirping so busily. +How still it is on the fells! There is an old gray horse feeding by the +bridge, and some red and white cattle coming over the side of the hill. +This is better than your old Clapham pictures, Aunt Milly.' + +Mildred smiled; she thought so too. + +'Roy says the river is a good way below, and that it is rather a +dangerous place to climb. He thinks nothing of it--but then he is a boy! +How blue the hills are this morning! They look quite near. But Roy says +they are miles away. That long violet one is called the Nine Standards, +and over there are Hartley Fells. We were out on the terrace last night, +and he told me their names. Roy is very fond of talk, I think; but +Richard stood near us all the time, and never said a word, except to +scold Roy for chattering so much.' + +'Richard was afraid the sound of your voices would disturb my brother.' + +'That is the worst of it, as Roy says, Richard is always in the right. I +don't think Roy is unfeeling, but he forgets sometimes; he told me so +himself. We had quite a long talk when the others went in.' + +'You and he seem already very good friends.' + +'Yes, he is a tolerably nice boy,' returned Polly, condescendingly; 'and +we shall get on very well together, I dare say. Now I will leave you in +peace, Aunt Milly, to finish dressing; for I mean to make acquaintance +with that big green hill before breakfast.' + +Mildred was not sorry to be left in peace. It was still early. So, while +Polly wetted her feet in the grass, Mildred went softly downstairs to +refresh her eyes and memory with a quiet look at the old rooms in their +morning freshness. + +The door of her brother's study stood open, and she ventured in, almost +holding her breath, lest her step should reach his ear in the adjoining +room. + +There was the chair where he always sat, with his gray head against the +light, the one narrow old-fashioned window framing only a small portion +of the magnificent prospect. There were the overflowing waste-paper +baskets, as usual, brimming over their contents on the carpet--the table +a hopeless chaos of documents, pamphlets, and books of reference. + +There were some attempts at arrangement in the well-filled bookcases +that occupied two sides of the small room, but the old corner behind the +mother's chair and work-table still held the debris of the renowned +Tower of Babel, and a family tendency to draw out the lower books +without removing the upper ones had resulted in numerous overthrows, so +that even Mr. Lambert objected to add to the dusty confusion. + +Books and papers were everywhere; they littered even the couch--that +couch where Betha had lain for so many months, only tired, before they +discovered what ailed her--the couch where her husband had laid the +little light figure morning after morning, till she had grown too ill to +be moved even that short distance. + +Looking round, Mildred could understand the growing helplessness of the +man who had lost his right band and helpmeet; the answer and ready +sympathy that never failed him were wanting now; the comely, bright +presence had gone from his sight; the tones that had always vibrated so +sweetly in his ear were silent for ever. With his lonely broodings there +must ever mix a bitter regret, and the dull, perpetual anguish of a +yearning never to be satisfied. Earth is full of these desolations, +which come alike on the evil and the good--mysteries of suffering never +to be understood here, but which, to such natures as Arnold Lambert's, +are but as the Refiner's furnace, purging the dross of earthly passion +and centring them on things above. + +Instinctively Mildred comprehended this, as her eye fell on the open +pages of the Bible--the Bible that had been her husband's wedding gift +to Betha, and in which she had striven to read with failing eyes the +very day before her death. + +Mildred touched it reverently and turned away. + +She lingered for a moment in the dining-room, where a buxom North +countrywoman was laying the table for breakfast. Everything here was +unchanged. + +It was still the same homely, green, wainscotted room, with high, narrow +windows looking on to the terrace. There was the same low, old-fashioned +sideboard and silk-lined chiffonnier; the same leathern couch and +cumbrous easy-chair; the same picture of 'Virtue and Vice,' smiling and +glaring over the high wooden mantelpiece. Yes, the dear old room, as +Mildred had fondly termed it in her happy three months' visit, was +exactly the same; but Betha's drawing-room was metamorphosed into +fairyland. + +All Arnold's descriptions had not prepared her for the pleasant +surprise. Behind the double folding-doors lay a perfect picture-room, +its wide bay looking over the sunny hills, and a glass door opening on +the beck gravel of the courtyard. + +Outside, the long levels of green, with Cuyp-like touches of brown and +red cattle, grouped together on the shady bank, tender hints of water +gleaming through the trees, and the soft billowy ridges beyond; within, +the faint purple and golden tints of the antique jars and vases, and +shelves of rare porcelain, the rich hues of the china harmonising with +the high-backed ebony chairs and cabinet, and the high, +elaborately-finished mantelpiece, curiously inlaid with glass, and +fitted up with tiny articles of _vertu_; the soft, blue hangings and +Sčvres table and other dainty finishes giving a rich tone of colour to +the whole. Mr. Lambert was somewhat of a _dilettante_, and his accurate +taste had effected many improvements in the vicarage, as well as having +largely aided in the work nearest his heart--the restoration of his +church. + +The real frontage of the vicarage looked towards the garden terrace and +Hillsbottom, the broad meadow that stretched out towards Hartley Fells, +with Hartley Fold Farm and Hartley Castle in the distance; from its +upper window the Nine Standards and Mallerstang, and to the south +Wild-boar Fells, were plainly visible. But the usual mode of entrance +was at the back. The gravelled sweep of courtyard, with its narrow grass +bordering and flower-bed, communicated with the outhouses and +stable-yard by means of a green door in the wall. The part of the +vicarage appropriated to the servants' use was very old, dating, it is +said, from the days of Henry VIII, and some of the old windows were +still remaining. Mildred remembered the great stone kitchen and rambling +cellarage and the cosy housekeeper's room, where Betha had distilled her +fragrant waters and tied up her preserves. As she passed down the long +passage leading to the garden-door she could see old Nan, bare-armed and +bustling, clattering across the stones in her country clogs, the sunny +backyard distinctly visible. Some hens were clucking round a yellow pan; +the goat bleated from the distance; the white tombstones gleamed in the +morning sun; a scythe cut crisply through the wet grass; a fleet step on +the gravel behind the little summer-house lingered and then turned. + +'You are early, Aunt Milly--at least, for a Londoner, though we are +early people here, as you will find. I hope you have slept well.' + +'Not very well; my thoughts were too busy. Is it too early to go over to +the church yet, Richard?' + +'The bells will not ring for another half-hour, if that is what you +mean; but the key hangs in my father's study. I can take you over if you +wish.' + +'No, do not let me hinder you,' glancing at the Greek lexicon he held in +his hand. + +'Oh, my time is not so valuable as that,' he returned, good-humouredly. +'Of course you must see the restoration; it is my father's great work, +and he is justly proud of it. If you go over, Aunt Milly, I will be with +you in a minute.' + +Mildred obeyed, and waited in the grand old porch till Richard made his +appearance, panting, and slightly disturbed. + +'It was mislaid, as usual. When you get used to us a little more, Aunt +Milly, you will find that no one puts anything in its proper place. It +used not to be so' he continued, in a suppressed voice; 'but we have got +into sad ways lately; and Olive is a wretched manager.' + +'She is so young, Richard. What can you expect from a girl of fifteen?' + +'I have seen little women and little mothers at that age,' he returned, +with brusque quaintness. 'Some girls, placed as she is, would be quite +different; but Livy cares for nothing but books.' + +'She is clever then?' + +'I suppose so,' indifferently. 'My father says so, and so did----(he +paused, as though the word were difficult to utter)--'but--but she was +always trying to make her more womanly. Don't you think clever women are +intolerable, Aunt Milly?' + +'Not if they have wise heads and good hearts; but they need peculiar +training. Oh, how solemn and beautiful!' as Richard at last unlocked the +door; and they entered the vast empty church, with the morning sun +shining on its long aisles and glorious arcades. + +Richard's querulous voice was hushed in tender reverence now, as he +called Mildred to admire the highly-decorated roof and massive pillars, +and pointed out to her the different parts that had been restored. + +'The nave is Early English, and was built in 1220; the north aisle is of +the original width, and was restored in Perpendicular style; the window +at the eastern end is Early English too. The south aisle was widened +about 1500, and has been restored in the Perpendicular; and the +transepts are Early English, in which style the chancel also has been +rebuilt. Nothing of the original remains except the Sedilia, probably +late Early English, or perhaps the period sometimes called Wavy, or +Decorated.' + +'You know it all by heart, Richard. How grand those arches are; the +church itself is almost cathedral-like in its vast size.' + +'We are very fond of it,' he returned, gravely. 'Do you recollect this +chapel? It is called the Musgrave Chapel. One of these tombs belonged to +Sir Thomas Musgrave, who is said to have killed the last wild boar seen +in these parts, about the time of Edward III.' + +'Ah! I remember hearing that. You are a capital guide, Richard.' + +'Since my father has been ill, I have always taken strangers over the +church, and so one must be acquainted with the details. This is the +Wharton Chapel, Aunt Milly; and here is the tomb of Lord Thomas Wharton +and his two wives; it was built as a mortuary chapel, in the reign of +Elizabeth, so my father says. Ah! there is the bell, and I must go into +the vestry and see if my father be ready.' + +'You have not got a surpliced choir yet, Richard?' + +He shook his head. + +'We have to deal with northern prejudices; you have no idea how narrow +and bigoted some minds can be. I could tell you of a parish, not thirty +miles from here, where a sprig of holly in the church at Christmas would +breed a riot.' + +'Impossible, Richard!' + +'You should hear some of the Squire's stories about twenty years ago; +these are enlightened times compared to them. We are getting on +tolerably well, and can afford to wait; our daily services are badly +attended. There is the vicarage pew, Aunt Milly; I must go now.' + +Only nineteen--Richard's mannishness was absolutely striking; how wise +and sensible he seemed, and yet what underlying bitterness there was in +his words as he spoke of Olive. 'His heart is sore, poor lad, with +missing his mother,' thought Mildred, as she watched the athletic +figure, rather strong than graceful, cross the broad chancel; and then, +as she sat admiring the noble pulpit of Shap granite and Syenetic +marble, the vicarage pew began slowly to fill, and two or three people +took their places. + +Mildred stole a glance at her nieces: Olive looked heavy-eyed and +absent; and Chriss more untidy than she had been the previous night. +When service had begun she nudged her aunt twice, once to say Dr. Heriot +was not there, and next that Roy and Polly had come in late, and were +hiding behind the last pillar. She would have said more, but Richard +frowned her into silence. It was rather a dreary service; there was no +music, and the responses, with the exception of Richard's, were +inaudible in the vast building; but Mildred thought it restful, though +she grieved to see that her brother's worn face looked thinner and +sadder in the morning light, and his tall figure more bowed and feeble. + +He waited for her in the porch, where she lingered behind the others, +and greeted her with his old smile; and then he took Richard's arm. + +'We have a poor congregation you see, Mildred; even Heriot was not +there.' + +'Is he usually?' she asked, somewhat quickly. + +'I have never known him miss, unless some bad case has kept him up at +night. He joined us reluctantly at first, and more to please us than +himself; but he has grown into believing there is no fitter manner of +beginning the day; his example has infected two or three others, but I +am afraid we rarely number over a dozen. We do a little better at six +o'clock.' + +'It must be very disheartening to you, Arnold.' + +'I do not permit myself to feel so; if the people will not come, at +least they do not lack invitation--twice a day the bells ring out their +reproachful call. I wish Christians were half as devout as Mahometans.' + +'Mrs. Sadler calls it new-fangled nonsense, and says she has not time to +be always in church,' interrupted Chrissy, in her self-sufficient +treble. + +'My little Chriss, it is not good to repeat people's words. Mrs. Sadler +has small means and a large family, and the way she brings them up is +highly creditable.' But his gentle reproof fell unheeded. + +'But she need not have told Miss Martingale that she knew you were a +Ritualist at heart, and that the daily services were unnecessary +innovations,' returned Chrissy, stammering slightly over the long words. + +'Now, Contradiction, no one asked for this valuable piece of +information,' exclaimed Roy, with a warning pull at the rough tawny +mane; 'little girls like you ought not to meddle in parish matters. You +see Gregory has been steadily at work this morning, father,' pointing to +the long swathes of cut grass under the trees; 'the churchyard will be a +credit to us yet.' + +But Roy's good-natured artifice to turn his father's thoughts into a +pleasanter channel failed to lift the cloud that Chrissy's unfortunate +speech had raised. + +'Innovations! new-fangled ideas!' he muttered, in a grieved voice, +'simple obedience--that I dare not, on the peril of a bad conscience, +withhold, to the rules of the Church, to the loving precept that bids me +gather her children into morning and evening prayer.' + +'Contradiction, you deserve half-a-dozen pinches for this,' whispered +Roy; 'you have set him off on an old grievance.' + +'Never sacrifice principles, Cardie, when you are in my position,' +continued Mr. Lambert. 'If I had listened to opposing voices, our bells +would have kept silence from one Sunday to another. Ah, Milly! I often +ask myself, "Can these dry bones live?" The husks and tares that choke +the good seed in these narrow minds that listen to me Sunday after +Sunday would test the patience of any faithful preacher.' + +'Aunt Milly looks tired, and would be glad of her breakfast,' interposed +Richard. + +Mildred thanked him silently with her eyes; she knew her brother +sufficiently of old to dread the long vague self-argument that would +have detained them for another half-hour in the porch had not Richard's +dexterous hint proved effectual. Mildred learnt a great deal of the +habits of the family during the hour that followed; the quiet watchful +eyes made their own observation--and though she said little, nothing +escaped her tender scrutiny. She saw her brother would have eaten +nothing but for the half-laughing, half-coaxing attentions of Roy, who +sat next him. Roy prepared his egg, and buttered his toast, and placed +the cresses daintily on his plate, unperceived by Mr. Lambert, who was +opening his letters and glancing over his papers. + +When he had finished--and his appetite was very small--he pushed away +his plate, and sat looking over the fells, evidently lost in thought. +But his children, as though accustomed to his silence, took no further +notice of him, but carried on the conversation among themselves, only +dropping their voices when a heavier sigh than usual broke upon their +ears. The table was spread with a superabundance of viands that +surprised Mildred; but the cloth was not over clean, and was stained +with coffee in several places. Mildred fancied that it was to obviate +such a catastrophe for the future that Richard sat near the urn. A +German grammar lay behind the cups and saucers, and Olive munched her +bread and butter very ungracefully over it, only raising her head when +querulous or reproachful demands for coffee roused her reluctant +attention, and it evidently needed Richard's watchfulness that the cups +were not returned unsweetened to their owner. + +'There, you have done it again,' Mildred heard him say in a low voice. +'The second clean cloth this week disfigured with these unsightly brown +patches.' + +'Something must be the matter with the urn,' exclaimed Olive, looking +helplessly with regretful eyes at the mischief. + +'Nonsense, the only fault is that you will do two things at a time. You +have eaten no breakfast, at least next to none, and made us all +uncomfortable. And pray how much German have you done?' + +'I can't help it, Cardie; I have so much to do, and there seems no time +for things.' + +'I should say not, to judge by this,' interposed Roy, wickedly, +executing a pirouette round his sister's chair, to bring a large hole in +his sock to view. 'Positively the only pair in my drawers. It is too +hard, isn't it, Dick?' + +But Richard's disgust was evidently too great for words, and the +unbecoming flush deepened on Olive's sallow cheeks. + +'I was working up to twelve o'clock at night,' she said, looking ready +to cry, and appealing to her silent accuser. 'Don't laugh, Chriss, you +were asleep; how could you know?' + +'Were you mending this?' asked her brother gravely, holding up a breadth +of torn crape for her inspection, fastened by pins, and already woefully +frayed out. + +'I had no time,' still defending herself heavily, but without temper. +'Please leave it alone, Cardie, you are making it worse. I had Chriss's +frock to do; and I was hunting for your things, but I could not find +them.' + +'I dare say not. I dare not trust myself to your tender mercies. I took +a carpet bagful down to old Margaret. If Rex took my advice, he would do +the same.' + +'No, no, I will do his to-day. I will indeed, Rex. I am so sorry about +it. Chriss ought to help me, but she never does, and she tears her +things so dreadfully,' finished Olive, reproachfully. + +'What can you expect from a contradicting baby,' returned Roy, with +another pull at the ill-kempt locks as he passed. Chriss gave him a +vixenish look, but her aunt's presence proved a restraining influence. +Evidently Chriss was not a favourite with her brothers, for Roy teased, +and Richard snubbed her pertness severely. Roy, however, seemed to +possess a fund of sweet temper for family use, which was a marked +contrast to Richard's dictatorial and somewhat stern manner, and he +hastened now to cover poor Olive's discomfiture. + +'Never mind, Lily, a little extra ventilation is not unhealthy, and is a +somewhat wholesome discipline; you may cobble me up a pair for to-morrow +if you like.' + +'You are very good, Roy, but I am sorry all the same, only Cardie will +not believe it,' returned Olive. There were tears in the poor girl's +voice, and she evidently felt her brother's reproof keenly. + +'Actions are better than words,' was the curt reply. 'But this is not +very amusing for Aunt Milly. What are you and Miss Ellison going to do +with yourselves this morning?' + +'Bother Miss Ellison; why don't you call her Polly?' burst in Roy, +irreverently. + +'I have not given him leave,' returned the little lady haughtily. 'You +were rude, and took the permission without asking.' + +'Nonsense, don't be dignified, Polly; it does' not suit you. We are +cousins, aren't we? brothers and sisters once removed?' + +'I am Aunt Milly's niece; but I am not to call him Uncle Arnold, am I?' +was Polly's unexpected retort. But the shout it raised roused even Mr. +Lambert. + +'Call me what you like, my dear; never mind my boy's mischief,' laying +his hand on Roy's shoulder caressingly. 'He is as skittish and full of +humour as a colt; but a good lad in the main.' + +Polly contemplated them gravely, and pondered the question; then she +reached out a little hand and touched Mr. Lambert timidly. + +'No! I will not call you Uncle Arnold; it does not seem natural. I like +Mr. Lambert best. But Roy is nice, and may call me what he likes; and +Richard, too, if he will not be so cross.' + +'Thanks, my princess,' answered Roy, with mocking reverence. 'So you +don't approve of Dick's temper, eh?' + +'I think Olive stupid to bear it; but he means well,' returned Polly +composedly. And as Richard drew himself up affronted at the young +stranger's plain speaking, she looked in his face, in her frank childish +way, 'Cardie is prettier than Richard, and I will call you that if you +like, but you must not frown at me and tell me to do things as you tell +Olive. I am not accustomed to be treated like a little sheep,' finished +Polly, naively; and Richard, despite his vexed dignity, was compelled to +join in the laugh that greeted this speech. + +'Polly and I ought to unpack,' suggested Mildred, in her wise +matter-of-fact way, hoping to restore the harmony that every moment +seemed to disturb. + +'No one will invade your privacy to-day, Aunt Milly; it would be a +violation of county etiquette to call upon strangers till they had been +seen at church. You and Miss----' Richard paused awkwardly, and hurried +on--'You will have plenty of time to settle yourself and get rested.' + +'Fie, Dick--what a blank. You are to be nameless now, Polly,' + +'Don't be so insufferably tiresome, Rex; one can never begin a sensible +conversation in this house, what with Chriss's contradictions on one +side and your jokes on the other.' + +'Poor old Issachar between two burdens,' returned Roy, patting him +lightly. 'Cheer up; don't lose heart; try again, my lad. Aunt Milly, +when you have finished with Polly, I want to show her Podgill, our +favourite wood; and Olive and Chriss shall go too.' + +'Wait till the afternoon, Roy, and then we can manage it,' broke in +Chriss, breathlessly. + +'You can go, Christine, but I have no time,' returned Olive wearily; but +as Richard seemed on the point of making some comment, she gathered up +her books, and, stumbling heavily over her torn dress in her haste, +hurried from the room. + +Mildred and Polly shut themselves in their rooms, and were busy till +dinner-time. Once or twice when Mildred had occasion to go downstairs +she came upon Olive; once she was standing by the hall table jingling a +basket of keys, and evidently in weary argument on domestic matters with +Nan--Nan's broad Westmorland dialect striking sharply against Olive's +feeble refined key. + +'Titter its dune an better, Miss Olive--t' butcher will send fleshmeat +sure enough, but I maun gang and order it mysel'.' + +'Very well, Nan, but it must not be that joint; Mr. Richard does not +like it, and----' + +'Eh! I cares lile for Master Richard,' grumbled Nan, crossly. 'T'auld +maister is starved amyast--a few broth will suit him best.' + +'But we can have the broth as well,' returned Olive, with patient +persistence. 'Mamma always studied what Richard liked, and he must not +feel the difference now.' + +'Nay, then I maun just gang butcher's mysel', and see after it.' + +But Mildred heard no more. By and by, as she was sorting some books on +the window seat, she saw Chrissy scudding across the courtyard, and +Olive following her with a heavy load of books in her arms; the elder +girl was plodding on with downcast head and stooping shoulders, the +unfortunate black dress trailing unheeded over the rough beck gravel, +and the German grammar still open in her hand. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +OLIVE + + 'The yearnings of her solitary spirit, the out-gushings of her + shrinking sensibility, the cravings of her alienated heart, are + indulged only in the quiet holiness of her solitude. The world + sees not, guesses not the conflict, and in the ignorance of + others lies her strength.'--Bethmont. + + +Dinner was hardly a sociable meal at the vicarage. Olive was in her +place looking hot and dusty when Mildred came downstairs, and Chriss +tore in and took her seat in breathless haste, but the boys did not make +their appearance till it was half over. Richard immediately seated +himself by his aunt, and explained the reason of their delay in a low +tone, though he interrupted himself once by a few reproachful words to +Olive on the comfortless appearance of the room. + +'It is Chriss's fault,' returned Olive. 'I have asked her so often not +to bring all that litter in at dinner-time; and, Chriss, you have pulled +down the blind too.' + +Richard darted an angry look at the offender, which was met defiantly, +and then he resumed the subject, though with a perturbed brow. Roy and +he had been over to Musgrave to read classics with the vicar. Roy had +left Sedbergh, and since their trouble their father had been obliged to +resign this duty to another. 'He was bent on preparing me for Oxford +himself, but since his illness he has occupied himself solely with +parish matters. So Mr. Wigram offered to read with us for a few months, +and as the offer was too good a one to be refused, Roy and I walk over +three or four times a week.' + +'Have you settled to take Holy Orders then, Richard?' asked Mildred, a +little surprised. + +'It has been settled for me, I believe,' he returned, a slight hardness +perceptible in his voice; 'at least it is my father's great wish, and I +have not yet made up my mind to disappoint him, though I own there is a +probability of my doing so.' + +'And Roy?' + +Richard smiled grimly. 'You had better ask him; he is looked upon in the +light of a sucking barrister, but he is nothing but a dabbler in art at +present; he has been under a hedge most of the morning, taking the +portrait of a tramp that he chose to consider picturesque. Where is your +Zingara, Roy?' But Roy chose to be deaf, and went on eagerly with his +plans for the afternoon's excursion to Podgill. + +Mildred watched the party set out, Polly and Chriss in their +broad-brimmed hats, and Roy with a sketch-book under his arm. Richard +was going over to Nateby with his father. Olive looked after them +longingly. + +'My dear, are you not going too? it will do you good; and I am sure you +have a headache.' + +'Oh, it is nothing,' returned Olive, putting her hair back with her +hands; 'it is so warm this afternoon, and----' + +'And you were up late last night,' continued Mildred in a sympathising +voice. + +'Not later than usual. I often work when the others go to bed; it does +not hurt me,' she finished hastily, as a dissenting glance from Mildred +met her. 'Indeed, I am quite strong, and able to bear much more.' + +'We must not work the willing horse, then. Come, my dear, put on your +hat; or let me fetch it for you, and we will overtake the Podgill +party.' + +'Oh no,' returned Olive, shrinking back, and colouring nervously. 'You +may go, aunt; but Rex does not want me, or Chriss either; nobody wants +me--and I have so much work to do.' + +'What sort of work, mending?' + +'Yes, all the socks and things. I try to keep them under, but there is a +basketful still. Roy and Chriss are so careless, and wear out their +things; and then you heard Richard say he could not trust me with his.' + +'Richard is particular; many young men are. You must not be so +sensitive, Olive. Well, my dear, I shall be very glad of your help, of +course; but these things will be my business now.' + +Olive contracted her brow in a puzzled way. 'I do not understand.' + +'Not that I have come to be your father's housekeeper, and to save your +young shoulders from being quite weighed down with burdens too heavy for +them? There, come into my room, and let us talk this matter over at our +leisure. Our fingers can be busy at the same time;' and drawing the girl +gently to a low seat by the open window, Mildred placed herself beside +her, and was soon absorbed in the difficulties of a formidable rent. + +'You must be tired too, aunt,' observed Olive presently, with an +admiring glance at the erect figure and nimble fingers. + +'Not too tired to listen if you have anything to tell me,' returned +Mildred with a winning smile. 'I want to hear where all those books were +going this morning, and why Chriss was running on empty-handed.' + +'Chriss does not like carrying things, and I don't mind,' replied Olive. +'We go every morning, and in the afternoon too when we are able, to +study with Mrs. Cranford; she is so nice and clever. She is a +Frenchwoman, and has lived in Germany half her life; only she married an +Englishman.' + +'And you study with her?' + +'Yes, Dr. Heriot recommended her; she was a great friend of his, and +after her husband's death--he was a lawyer here--she was obliged to do +something to maintain herself and her three little girls, so Dr. Heriot +proposed her opening a sort of school; not a regular one, you know, but +just morning and afternoon classes for a few girls.' + +'Have you many companions?' + +'No; only Gertrude Sadler and the two Misses Northcote. Polly is to join +us, I believe.' + +'So her guardian says. I hope, you like our young _protégée_ Olive.' + +'I shall not dislike her, at least, for one reason,' and as Mildred +looked up in surprise, she added more graciously, 'I mean we are all so +fond of Dr. Heriot that we will try to like her for his sake.' + +'Polly deserves to be loved for her own sake,' replied Mildred, somewhat +piqued at Olive's coldness. 'I was wrong to ask you such a question. Of +course you cannot judge of any one in so short a time.' + +'Oh, it is not that,' returned Olive, eager, and yet stammering. 'I am +afraid I am slow to like people always, and Polly seems so bright and +clever, that I am sure never to get on with her.' + +'My dear Olive, you must not allow yourself to form such morbid ideas. +Polly is very original, and will charm you into liking her, before many +days are over; even our fastidious Richard shows signs of relenting.' + +'Oh, but he will never care for her as Roy seems to do already. Cardie +cares for so few people; you don't half know how particular he is, and +how soon he is offended; nothing but perfection will ever please him,' +she finished with a sigh. + +'We must not be too hard in our estimate of other people. I am half +inclined to find fault with Richard myself in this respect; he does not +make sufficient allowance for a very young housekeeper,' laying her hand +softly on Olive's dark hair; and as the girl looked up at her quickly, +surprised by the caressing action, Mildred noticed, for the first time, +the bright intelligence of the brown eyes. + +'Oh, you must not say that,' she returned, colouring painfully. 'Cardie +is very good, and helps me as much as he can; but you see he was so used +to seeing mamma do everything so beautifully.' + +'It is not worse for Richard than for the others.' + +'Oh yes, it is; she made so much of him, and they were always together. +Roy feels it dreadfully; but he is light-hearted, and forgets it at +times. I don't think Cardie ever does.' + +'How do you know; does he tell you so?' asked Mildred, with kindly +scrutiny. + +Olive shook her head mournfully. 'No, he never talks to me, at least in +that way; but I know it all the same; one can tell it by his silence and +pained look. It makes him irritable too. Roy has terrible breaks-down +sometimes, and so has Chriss; but no one knows what Cardie suffers.' + +Mildred dropped her work, and regarded the young speaker attentively. +There was womanly thoughtfulness, and an underlying tenderness in the +words of this girl of fifteen; under the timid reserve there evidently +beat a warm, affectionate heart. For a moment Mildred scanned the +awkward hunching of the shoulders, the slovenly dress and hair, and the +plain, cloudy face, so slow to beam into anything like a smile; Olive's +normal expression seemed a heavy, anxious look, that furrowed her brow +with unnatural lines, and made her appear years older than her actual +age; the want of elasticity and the somewhat slouching gait confirming +this impression. + +'If she were not so plain; if she would only dress and hold herself like +other people, and be a little less awkward,' sighed Mildred. 'No wonder +Richard's fastidiousness is so often offended; but his continual +fault-finding makes her worse. She is too humble-minded to defend +herself, and too generous to resent his interference. If I do not +mistake, this girl has a fine nature, though it is one that is difficult +to understand; but to think of this being Betha's daughter!' and a +vision rose before Mildred of the slight, graceful figure and active +movements of the bright young house-mother, so strangely contrasted with +Olive's clumsy gestures. + +The silence was unbroken for a little time, and then Olive raised her +head. 'I think I must go down now, the others will be coming in. It has +been a nice quiet time, and has done my head good; but,' a little +plaintively, 'I am afraid I have not done much work.' + +Mildred laughed. 'Why not? you have not looked out of the window half so +often as I have. I suppose you are too used to all that purple +loveliness; your eyes have not played truant once.' + +'Yes, it is very beautiful; but one seems to have no time now to enjoy,' +sighed the poor drudge. 'You work so fast, aunt; your fingers fly. I +shall always be awkward at my needle; mamma said so.' + +'It is a pity, of course; but perhaps your talents lie in another +direction,' returned her aunt, gravely. 'You must not lose heart, Olive. +It is possible to acquire ordinary skill by persevering effort.' + +'If one had leisure to learn--I mean to take pains. But look, how little +I have done all this afternoon.' Olive looked so earnest and lugubrious +that Mildred bit her lip to keep in the amused smile. + +'My dear,' she returned quaintly, 'there is a sin not mentioned in the +Decalogue, but which is a very common one among women, nevertheless, +"the lust of finishing." We ought to love work for the work's sake, and +leave results more than we do. Over-hurry and too great anxiety for +completion has a great deal to do with the overwrought nerves of which +people complain nowadays. "In quietness and in confidence shall be your +strength."' + +Olive looked up with something like tears in her eyes. 'Oh, aunt, how +beautiful. I never thought of that.' + +'Did you not? I will illuminate the text for you and hang it in your +room. So much depends on the quietness we bring to our work; without +being exactly miserly with our eyes and hands, as you have been this +afternoon, one can do so much with a little wise planning of our time, +always taking care not to resent interference by others. You will think +I deal in proverbial philosophy, if I give you another maxim, "Man's +importunity is God's opportunity."' + +'I will always try to remember that when Chriss interrupts me, as she +does continually,' answered Olive, thoughtfully. 'People say there are +no such things as conflicting duties, but I have often such hard work to +decide--which is the right thing to be done.' + +'I will give you an infallible guide then: choose that which seems +hardest, or most disagreeable; consciences are slippery things; they +always give us such good reasons for pleasing ourselves.' + +'I don't think that would answer with me,' returned Olive doubtfully. +'There are so many things I do not like, the disagreeable duties quite +fill one's day. I like hearing you talk very much, aunt. But there is +Cardie's voice, and he will be disappointed not to find the tea ready +when he comes in from church.' + +'Then I will not detain you another moment; but you must promise me one +thing.' + +'What is that?' + +'There must be no German book behind the urn to-night. Better ill-learnt +verbs than jarring harmony, and a trifle that vexes the soul of another +ceases to be a trifle. There, run along, my child.' + +Mildred had seen very little of her brother that day, and after tea she +accompanied him for a quiet stroll in the churchyard. There was much +that she had to hear and tell. Arnold would fain know the particulars of +his mother's last hours from her lips, while she on her side yearned for +a fuller participation in her brother's sorrow, and to gather up the +treasured recollections of the sister she had loved so well. + +The quiet evening hour--the scene--the place--fitted well with such +converse. Arnold was less reticent to-night, and though his smothered +tones of pain at times bore overwhelming testimony to the agony that had +shattered his very soul, his expressions of resignation, and the absence +of anything like bitterness in the complaint that he had lost his youth, +the best and brightest part of himself, drew his sister's heart to him +in endearing reverence. + +'I was dumb, and opened not my mouth, because Thou didst it,' seemed to +be the unspoken language of his thoughts, and every word breathed the +same mournful submission to what was felt to be the chastisement of +love. + +'Dear, beautiful Betha; but she was ready to go, Arnold?' + +'None so ready as she--God forbid it were otherwise--but I do not know. +I sometimes think the darling would have been glad to stay a little +longer with me. Hers was the nature that saw the sunny side of life. +Heriot could never make her share in his dark views of earthly troubles. +If the cloud came she was always looking for the silver lining.' + +'It is sad to think how rare these natures are,' replied Mildred. 'What +a contrast to our mother's sickbed!' + +'Ah, then we had to battle with the morbidity of hypochondria, the +sickness of the body aggravated by the diseased action of the mind, the +thickening of shadows that never existed except in one weary brain. My +darling never lost her happy smile except when she saw my grief. I think +that troubled the still waters of her soul. In thinking of their end, +Mildred, one is reminded of Bunyan's glorious allegory--glorious, +inspired, I should rather say. That part where the pilgrims make ready +for their passage across the river. My darling Betha entered the river +with the sweet bravery of Christiana, while, according to your account, +my poor mother's sufferings only ceased with her breath.' + +'Yet she was praying for the end to come, Arnold.' + +'Yes, but the grasshopper was ever a burden to her. Do you remember what +stout old Bunyan says? "The last words of Mr. Despondency were: Farewell +night! Welcome day! His daughter (Much-afraid) went through the river +singing, but no one could understand what she said."' + +'As no one could tell the meaning of the sweet solemn smile that crossed +our mother's face at the last; she had no fears then, Arnold.' + +'Just so. If she could have spoken she would have doubtless told you +that such was the case, or used such words as Mr. Despondency leaves as +his dying legacy. Do you remember them, Mildred? They are so true of +many sick souls,' and he quoted in a low sweet voice, '"My will and my +daughter's is (that tender, loving Much-afraid, Milly), that our +desponds and slavish fears be by no man ever received from the day of +our departure for ever, for I know after my death they will offer +themselves to others. For, to be plain with you, they are ghosts which +we entertained when we first began to be pilgrims, and could never throw +them off after; and they will walk about and seek entertainment of the +pilgrims; but, for our sakes, shut the doors upon them."' + +'It is a large subject, Arnold, and a very painful one.' + +'It is one on which you should talk to Heriot; he has a fine +benevolence, and is very tender in his dealings with these +self-tormentors. He is always fighting the shadows, as he calls them.' + +'I have often wondered why women are so much more morbid than men.' + +'Their lives are more to blame than they; want of vigour and action, a +much-to-be-deplored habit of incessant introspection and a too nice +balancing of conscientious scruples, a lack of large-mindedness, and +freedom of principle. All these things lie at the root of the mischief. +As John Heriot has it, "The thinking machine is too finely polished."' + +'I fancy Olive is slightly bitten with the complaint,' observed Mildred, +wishing to turn her brother's thought to more practical matters. + +'Indeed! her mother never told me so. She once said Olive was a noble +creature in a chrysalis state, and that she had a mind beyond the +generality of girls, but she generally only laughed at her for a +bookworm, and blamed her for want of order. I don't profess to +understand my children,' he continued mournfully; 'their mother was +everything to them. Richard often puzzles me, and Olive still more. Roy +is the most transparent, and Christine is a mere child. It has often +struck me lately that the girls are in sad need of training. Betha was +over-lenient with them, and Richard is too hard at times.' + +'They are at an angular age,' returned his sister, smiling. 'Olive seems +docile, and much may be made of her. I suppose you wish me to enter on +my new duties at once, Arnold?' + +'The sooner the better, but I hope you do not expect me to define them?' + +'Can a mother's duties be defined?' she asked, very gravely. + +'Sweetly said, Milly. I shall not fear to trust my girls to you after +that. Ah, there comes Master Richard to tell us the dews are falling.' + +Richard gave Mildred a reproachful look as he hastened to his father's +side. + +'You have let him talk too much; he will have no sleep to-night, Aunt +Milly. You have been out here more than two hours, and supper is +waiting.' + +'So late, Cardie? Well, well; it is something to find time can pass +otherwise than slowly now. You must not find fault with your aunt; she +is a good creature, and her talk has refreshed me. I hope, Milly, you +and my boy mean to be great friends.' + +'Do you doubt it, sir?' asked Richard gravely. + +'I don't doubt your good heart, Cardie, though your aunt may not always +understand your manner,' answered his father gently. 'Youth is sometimes +narrow-minded and intolerant, Milly. One graduates in the school of +charity later in life.' + +'I understand your reproof, sir. I am aware you consider me often +overbearing and dogmatical, but in my opinion petty worries would try +the temper of a saint.' + +'Pin-pricks often repeated would be as bad as a dagger-thrust, and not +nearly so dignified. Never mind, Cardie, many people find toleration a +very difficult duty.' + +'I could never tolerate evils of our own making, and what is more, I +should never consider it my duty to do so. I do not know that you would +have to complain of my endurance in greater matters.' + +'Possibly not, Cardie. This boy of mine, Milly,' pressing the strong +young arm on which he leant, 'is always leading some crusade or other. +He ought to have lived centuries ago, and belted on his sword as a Red +Cross Knight. He would have brought us home one of the dragon's heads at +last.' + +'You are jesting,' returned Richard, with a forced smile. + +'A poor jest, Cardie, then; only clothing the truth in allegory. After +all, you are right, my boy, and I am somewhat weary; help me to my +study. I will not join the others to-night.' + +Richard's face so plainly expressed 'I told you so,' that Mildred felt a +warm flush come to her face, as though she had been discovered in a +fault. It added to her annoyance also to find on inquiry that Olive had +been shut up in her room all the evening, 'over Roy's socks,' as Chrissy +explained, while the others had been wandering over the fells at their +own sweet will. + +'This will never do; you will be quite ill, Olive,' exclaimed Mildred, +impatiently; but as Richard entered that moment, to fetch some wine for +his father, she forbore to say any more, only entering a mental resolve +to kidnap the offending basket and lock it up safely from Olive's +scrupulous fingers. + +'I am coming into your room to have a talk,' whispered Polly when supper +was over; 'I have hardly seen you all day. How I do miss not having my +dear Aunt Milly to myself.' + +'I don't believe you have missed me at all, Polly,' returned Mildred, +stroking the short hair, and looking with a sort of relief into the +bright piquant face, for her heart was heavy with many sad thoughts. + +'Roy and I have been talking about you, though; he has found out you +have a pretty hand, and so you have.' + +'Silly children.' + +'He says you are awfully jolly. That is the schoolboy jargon he talks; +but he means it too; and even Chriss says you are not so bad, though she +owned she dreaded your coming.' + +Mildred winced at this piece of unpalatable intelligence, but she only +replied quietly, 'Chrissy was afraid I should prove strict, I suppose.' + +'Oh, don't let us talk of Chriss,' interrupted Polly, eagerly; 'she is +intolerable. I want to tell you about Roy. Do you know, Aunt Milly, he +wants to be an artist.' + +'Richard hinted as much at dinner time.' + +'Oh, Richard only laughs at him, and thinks it is all nonsense; but I +have lived among artists all my life,' continued Polly, drawing herself +up, 'and I am quite sure Roy is in earnest. We were talking about it all +the afternoon, while Chrissy was hunting for bird-nests. He told me all +his plans, and I have promised to help him.' + +'It appears his father intends him to be a barrister.' + +'Yes; some old uncle left him a few hundred pounds, and Mr. Lambert +wished him to go to the University, and, as he had no vocation for the +Church, to study for the bar. Roy told me all about it; he cannot bear +disappointing his father, but he is quite sure that he will make nothing +but an artist.' + +'Many boys have these fancies. You ought not to encourage him in it +against his father's wish.' + +'Roy is seventeen, Aunt Milly; as he says, he is no child, and he draws +such beautiful pictures. I have told him all about Dad Fabian, and he +wants to have him here, and ask his advice about things. Dad could look +after Roy when he goes to London. Roy and I have arranged everything.' + +'My dear Polly,' began Mildred, in a reproving tone; but her +remonstrance was cut short, for at that instant loud sobs were +distinctly audible from the farthest room, where the girls slept. + +Mildred rose at once, and softly opened the door; at the same moment +there was a quick step on the stairs, and Richard's low, admonishing +voice reached her ear; but as the loud sobbing sounds still continued, +Mildred followed him in unperceived. + +'Hush, Chrissy. What is all this about? You are disturbing my father; +but, as usual, you only think of yourself.' + +'Please don't speak to her like that, Cardie,' pleaded Olive. 'She is +not naughty; she has only woke up in a fright; she has been dreaming, I +think.' + +'Dreaming!--I should think so, with that light full in her eyes, those +sickening German books as usual,' with a glance of disgust at the little +round table, strewn with books and work, from which Olive had evidently +that moment risen. 'There, hush, Chrissy, like a good girl, and don't +let us have any more of this noise.' + +'No, I can't. Oh, Cardie, I want mamma--I want mamma!' cried poor +Chrissy, rolling on her pillow in childish abandonment of sorrow, but +making heroic efforts to stifle her sobs. 'Oh, mamma--mamma--mamma!' + +'Hush!--lie silent. Do you think you are the only one who wants her?' +returned Richard, sternly; but the hand that held the bedpost shook +visibly, and he turned very pale as he spoke. 'We must bear what we have +to bear, Chrissy.' + +'But I won't bear it,' returned the spoilt child. 'I can't bear it, +Cardie; you are all so unkind to me. I want to kiss her, and put my arms +round her, as I dreamt I was doing. I don't love God for taking her +away, when she didn't want to go; I know she didn't.' + +'Oh, hush, Chriss--don't be wicked!' gasped out Olive, with the tears in +her eyes; but, as though the child's words had stung him beyond +endurance, Richard turned on her angrily. + +'What is the good of reasoning with a child in this state? can't you +find something better to say? You are of no use at all, Olive. I don't +believe you feel the trouble as much as we do.' + +'Yes, she does. You must not speak so to your sister, Richard. Hush, my +dear--hush;' and Mildred stooped with sorrowful motherly face over the +pillow, where Chrissy, now really hysterical, was stuffing a portion of +the sheet in her mouth to resist an almost frantic desire to scream. 'Go +to my room, Olive, and you will find a little bottle of sal-volatile on +my table. The child has been over-tired. I noticed she looked pale at +supper.' And as Olive brought it to her with shaking hand and pallid +face, Mildred quietly measured the drops, and, beckoning to Richard to +assist her, administered the stimulating draught to the exhausted child. +Chrissy tried to push it away, but Mildred's firm, 'You must drink it, +my dear,' overcame her resistance, though her painful choking made +swallowing difficult. + +'Now we will try some nice fresh water to this hot face and these +feverish hands,' continued Mildred, in a brisk, cheerful tone; and +Chrissy ceased her miserable sobbing in astonishment at the novel +treatment. Every one but Dr. Heriot had scolded her for these fits, and +in consequence she had used an unwholesome degree of restraint for a +child: an unusually severe breakdown had been the result. + +'Give me a brush, Olive, to get rid of some of this tangle. I think we +look a little more comfortable now, Richard. Let me turn your pillow, +dear--there, now;' and Mildred tenderly rested the child's heavy head +against her shoulder, stroking the rough yellowish mane very softly. +Chrissy's sobs were perceptibly lessening now, though she still gasped +out 'mamma' at intervals. + +'She is better now,' whispered Mildred, who saw Richard still near them. +'Had you not better go downstairs, or your father will wonder?' + +'Yes, I will go,' he returned; yet he still lingered, as though some +visitings of compunction for his hardness troubled him. 'Good-night, +Chrissy;' but Chrissy, whose cheek rested comfortably against her aunt's +shoulder, took no notice. Possibly want of sympathy had estranged the +little sore heart. + +'Kiss your brother, my dear, and bid him good-night. All this has given +him pain.' And as Chrissy still hesitated, Richard, with more feeling +than he had hitherto shown, bent over them, and kissed them both, and +then paused by the little round table. + +'I am very sorry I said that, Livy.' + +'There was no harm in saying it, if you thought it, Cardie. I am only +grieved at that.' + +'I ought not to have said it, all the same; but it is enough to drive +one frantic to see how different everything is.' Then, in a whisper, and +looking at Mildred, 'Aunt Milly has given us all a lesson; me, as well +as you. You must try to be like her, Livy.' + +'I will try;' but the tone was hopeless. + +'You must begin by plucking up a little spirit, then. Well, good-night.' + +'Good-night, Cardie,' was the listless answer, as she suffered him to +kiss her cheek. 'It was only Olive's ordinary want of demonstration,' +Richard thought, as he turned away, a little relieved by his voluntary +confession; 'only one of her cold, tiresome ways.' + +Only one of her ways! + +Long after Chrissy had fallen into a refreshing sleep, and Mildred had +crept softly away to sleepy, wondering Polly, Olive sat at the little +round table with her face buried in her arms, both hid in the +loosely-dropping hair. + +'I could have borne him to have said anything else but this,' she +moaned. 'Not feel as they do, not miss her as much, my dear, beautiful +mother, who never scolded me, who believed in me always, even when I +disappointed her most;--oh, Cardie, Cardie, how could you have found it +in your heart to say that!' + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +CAIN AND ABEL + + 'There was a little stubborn dame + Whom no authority could tame; + Restive by long indulgence grown, + No will she minded but her own.'--Wilkie. + + +Chrissy was sufficiently unwell the next day to make her aunt's petting +a wholesome remedy. In moments of languor and depression even a +whimsical and erratic nature will submit to a winning power of +gentleness, and Chriss's flighty little soul was no exception to the +rule: the petting, being a novelty, pleased and amused her, while it +evidently astonished the others. Olive was too timid and awkward, and +Richard too quietly matter-of-fact, to deal largely in caresses, while +Roy's demonstrations somehow never included Contradiction Chriss. + +Chriss unfortunately belonged to the awkward squad, whose manoeuvres +were generally held to interfere with every one else. People gave her a +wide berth; she trod on their moral corns and offended their tenderest +prejudices; she was growing up thin-lipped and sharp-tongued, and there +was a spice of venom in her words that was not altogether childlike. + +'My poor little girl,' thought Mildred, as she sat beside her working; +'it is very evident that the weeds are growing up fast for lack of +attention. Some flowers will only grow in the sunshine; no child's +nature, however sweet, will thrive in an atmosphere of misunderstanding +and constant fault-finding.' + +Chrissy liked lying in that cool room, arranging Aunt Milly's work-box, +or watching her long white fingers as they moved so swiftly. Without +wearying the overtasked child, Mildred kept up a strain of pleasant +conversation that stimulated curiosity and raised interest. She had even +leisure and self-denial enough to lay aside a half-crossed darn to read +a story when Chriss's nerves seemed jarring into fretfulness again, and +was rather pleased than otherwise when, at a critical moment, long-drawn +breaths warned her that she had fallen into a sound sleep. + +Mildred sat and pondered over a hundred new plans, while tired Chriss +lay with the sweet air blowing on her and the bees humming underneath +the window. Now and then she stole a glance at the little figure, +recumbent under the heartsease quilt. 'She would be almost pretty if +those sharp lines were softened and that tawny tangle of hair arranged +properly; she has nice long eyelashes and a tolerably fair skin, though +it would be the better for soap and water,' thought motherly Mildred, +with the laudable anxiety of one determined to make the best of +everything, though a secret feeling still troubled her that Chrissy +would be the least attractive to her of the four. + +Chrissy's sleep lengthened into hours; that kindly foster-nurse Nature +often taking restorative remedies of forcible narcotics into her own +hands. She woke hungry and talkative, and after partaking of the +tempting meal her aunt had provided, submitted with tolerable docility +when Mildred announced her intention of making war with the tangles. + +'It hurts dreadfully. I often wish I were bald--don't you, Aunt Milly?' +asked Chrissy, wincing in spite of her bravery. + +'In that case you will not mind if I thin some of this shagginess,' +laughed Mildred, at the same time arming herself with a formidable pair +of shears. 'I wonder you are not afraid of Absalom's fate when you go +bird-nesting.' + +'I wish you would cut it all off, like Polly's,' pleaded Chriss, her +eyes sparkling at the notion. 'It makes my head so hot, and it is such a +trouble. It would be worth anything to see Cardie's face when I go +downstairs, looking like a clipped sheep; he would not speak to me for a +week. Do please, Aunt Milly.' + +'My dear, do you think that such a desirable result?' + +'What, making Cardie angry? I like to do it of all things. He never gets +into a rage like Roy--when you have worked him up properly--but his +mouth closes as though his lips were iron, as though it would never open +again; and when he does speak, which is not for a very long time, his +words seem to clip as sharp as your scissors--"Christine, I am ashamed +of you!"' + +'Those were the very words I wanted to use myself.' + +'What?' and Chrissy screwed herself round in astonishment to look in her +aunt's grave face. 'I am quite serious, I assure you, Aunt Milly. I +sha'n't mind if I look like a singed pony, or a convict; Rex is sure to +call me both. Shall I fetch a pudding-basin and have it done--as Mrs. +Stokes always does little Jem's?' + +'Hush, Chrissy; this is pure childish nonsense. There! I've trimmed the +refractory locks: you look a tidy little girl now. You have really very +pretty hair, if you would only keep it in order,' continued Mildred, +trying artfully to rouse a spark of womanly vanity; but Chriss only +pouted. + +'I would rather be like the singed pony.' + +'Silly child!' + +'Rex was in quite a temper when Polly said she hoped hers would never +grow again. You have spoiled such a capital piece of revenge, Aunt +Milly; I have almost a mind to do it myself.' But Chriss's +mischief-loving nature--always a dangerous one--was quelled for the +moment by the look of quiet contempt with which Mildred took the +scissors from her hand. + +'I did not expect to find you such a baby at thirteen, Chriss.' + +Chriss blazed up in a moment, with a great deal of spluttering and +incoherence. 'Baby! I a baby! No one shall call me that again!' tossing +her head and elevating her chin in childlike disdain. + +'Quite right; I am glad you have formed such a wise determination, it +would have been babyish, Chriss,' wilfully misunderstanding her. 'None +but very wicked and spiteful babies would ever scheme to put another in +a rage. Do you know,' continued Mildred cheerfully, as she took up her +work, apparently regardless that Chrissy was eyeing her with the same +withering wrath, 'I always had a notion that Cain must have tried to put +Abel in a passion, and failed, before he killed him!' + +Chrissy recoiled a little. + +'Perhaps he wanted him to fight, as men and boys do now, you know, only +Abel's exceeding gentleness could not degenerate into such strife. To me +there is something diabolical in the idea of trying to make any one +angry. Certainly the weapons with which we do it are forged for us, +red-hot, and put into our hands by the evil one himself.' + +'Aunt Milly!' Chrissy's head was quiescent now, and her chin in its +normal position: the transition from anger to solemnity bewildered her. +Mildred went on in the same quiet tone. + +'You cannot love Cardie very much, when you are trying to make him +angry, can you, Chrissy?' + +'No--o--at least, I suppose not,' stammered Chriss, who had no want of +truth among her other faults. + +'Well, what is the opposite of loving?' + +'Hating. Oh, Aunt Milly, you can't think so badly of me as that! I don't +hate Cardie.' + +'God forbid, my child! You know what the Bible says--'He who hateth his +brother is a murderer.' But, Chrissy, does it ever strike you that Cain +could not always have been quite bad? He had a childhood too.' + +'I never thought of him but as quite grown up,' returned Chriss, with a +touch of stubbornness, arising from an uneasy and awakened conscience. +'How fond you are of Cain, Aunt Milly.' + +'He is my example, my warning beacon, you see. He was the first-begotten +of Envy, that eldest-born of Hell--a terrible incarnation of unresisted +human passion. Had he first learned to restrain the beginnings of evil, +it would not have overwhelmed him so completely. Possibly in their +young, hard-working life he would have loved to be able to make Abel +angry.' + +'Aunt Milly!' Chrissy was shedding a few indignant tears now. + +'Well, my dear?' + +'It is too bad. You have no right to compare me with Cain,' sobbing +vengefully. + +'Did I do so? Nay, Chriss, I think you are mistaken.' + +'First to be called a baby, and then a murderer!' + +'Hush! hush!' + +'I know I am wicked to try and make them angry, but they tease me so; +they call me Contradiction, and the Barker, and Pugilist Pug, and lots +of horrid names, and it was only like playing at war to get one's +revenge.' + +'Choose some fairer play, my little Chriss.' + +'It is such miserable work trying to be proper and good; I don't think +I've got the face for it either,' went on Chriss, a subtle spirit of fun +drying up her tears again, as she examined her features curiously in +Mildred's glass. 'I don't look as though I could be made good, do I, +Aunt Milly'--frowning fiercely at herself--'not like a young Christian?' + +'More like a long-haired kitten,' returned Mildred, quaintly. + +The epithet charmed Chriss into instant good-humour; for a moment she +looked half inclined to hug Mildred, but the effort was too great for +her shyness, so she contented herself with a look of appreciation. 'You +can say funny things then--how nice! I thought you were so dreadfully +solemn--worse than Cardie. Cardie could not say a funny thing to save +his life, except when he is angry, and then, oh! he is droll,' finished +incorrigible Chriss, as she followed her aunt downstairs, skipping three +steps at a time. + +Richard met them in the hall, and eyed the pseudo-invalid a little +dubiously. + +'So you are better, eh, Chriss? That's right. I thought there was not +much that ailed you after all,' in a tone rather amiable than unfeeling. + +'Not much to you, you mean. Perhaps you don't mind having a log in your +head,' began Chrissy, indignantly, but seeing visionary Cains in her +aunt's glance, she checked herself. 'If I am better it is all thanks to +Aunt Milly's nursing, but she spoilt everything at the last.' + +'Why?' asked Richard, curiously, detecting a lurking smile at the corner +of Mildred's mouth. + +'Why, I had concocted a nice little plan for riling you--putting you in +a towering passion, you know--by coming down looking like a singed pony, +or like Polly, in fact; but she would not let me, took the scissors +away, like the good aunt in a story-book.' + +'What nonsense is she talking, Aunt Milly? She looks very nice, though +quite different to Chrissy somehow.' + +'We have only shorn a little of the superabundant fleece,' returned +Mildred, wondering why she felt so anxious for Richard's approval, and +laughing at herself for being so. + +'But I wanted it to be clipped just so, half an inch long, like + +Jemmy Stokes, and offered to fetch Nan's best pudding-basin for the +purpose; but Aunt Milly would not hear of it. She said such dreadful +things, Cardie!' And as Richard looked at her, with puzzled benevolence +in his eyes, she raised herself on tiptoe and whispered into his ear, +'She said--at least she almost implied, but it is all the same, +Cardie--that if I did I should go on from bad to worse, and should +probably end by murdering you, as Cain did Abel.' + +The following day was Sunday, and Mildred, who for her own reasons had +not yet actively assumed the reins of government, had full leisure and +opportunity for studying the family ways at the vicarage. In one sense +it was certainly not a day of rest, for, with the exception of Roy and +Chrissy, the young people seemed more fully engrossed than on any other +day. + +Richard and Olive were both at the early service, and Mildred, who, as +usual, waited for her brother in the porch, was distressed to find Olive +still with her hat on, snatching a few mouthfuls of food at the +breakfast-table while she sorted a packet of reward cards. + +'My dear Olive, this is very wrong; you must sit down and make a proper +meal before going to the Sunday School.' + +'Indeed I have not a moment,' returned Olive, hurriedly, without looking +up. 'My class will be waiting for me. I have to go down to old Mrs. +Stevens about her grandchildren. I had no time last night. Richard +always makes the breakfast on Sunday morning.' + +'Yes,' returned Richard, in his most repressive tone, as he poured out a +cup of coffee and carried it round to Olive, and then cut her another +piece of bread and butter. 'I believe Livy would like to dispense with +her meals altogether or take them standing. I tell her she is +comfortless by nature. She would go without breakfast often if I did not +make a fuss about it. There you must stay till you have eaten that.' But +Mildred noticed, though his voice was decidedly cross, he had cut the +bread _ą la tartine_ for his sister's greater convenience. + +Morning service was followed by the early dinner. Mr. Lambert, who was +without a curate, the last having left him from ill-health, was obliged +to accept such temporary assistance as he could procure from the +neighbouring parishes. To-day Mr. Heath, of Brough, had volunteered his +services, and accompanied the party back to the vicarage. Mildred, who +had hoped to hear her brother preach, was somewhat disappointed. She +thought Mr. Heath and his sermon very commonplace and uninteresting. +Ideas seemed wanting in both. The conversation during dinner turned +wholly on parish matters, and the heinous misdemeanours of two or three +ratepayers who had made a commotion at the last vestry meeting. The only +sentence that seemed worthy of attention was at the close of the meal, +just as the bell was ringing for the public catechising. + +'Where is Heriot? I have not set eyes on him yet!' + +Richard, who was just following Olive out of the room, paused with his +hand on the door to answer. + +'He has come back from Penrith. I met him by the Brewery after Church, +coming over from Hartly. He promised if he had time to look in after +service as usual.' + +Polly's eyes sparkled, and she almost danced up to Richard, 'Heriot! Is +that my Dr. Heriot?' with a decided stress on the possessive pronoun. + +'Oh, that's Heriot's ward, is it, Lambert? Humph, rather a queer affair, +isn't it, leaving that child to him? Heriot's a comparatively young man, +hardly five-and-thirty I should say,' and Mr. Heath's rosy face grew +preternaturally solemn. + +'Polly is our charge now,' returned Mr. Lambert, with one of his kind, +sad smiles, stretching out a hand to the girl. 'Mildred has promised to +look after her; and she will be Olive's and Chrissy's companion. You are +one of my little girls now, are you not, Polly?' Polly shook her head, +her face had lengthened a little over Mr. Lambert's words. + +'I like you, of course, and I like to be here. Aunt Milly is so nice, +and so is Roy; but I can only belong to my guardian.' + +'Hoity-toity, there will be some trouble here, Lambert. You must put +Heriot on his guard,' and Mr. Heath burst out laughing; Polly regarding +him the while with an air of offended dignity. + +'Did I say anything to make him laugh? there is nothing laughable in +speaking the truth. Papa gave me to my guardian, and of course that +means I belong to him.' + +'Never mind, Polly, let Mr. Heath laugh if he likes. We know how to +value such a faithful little friend--do we not, Mildred?'--and patting +her head gently, he bade her fetch him a book he had left on his study +table, and to Mildred's relief the conversation dropped, and Mr. Heath +shortly afterwards took his departure. + +Later on in the afternoon Mildred set out for a quiet walk to the +cemetery. Polly and Chriss were sunning themselves on the terrace, while +Roy was stretched in sleepy enjoyment on the grass at their feet, with +his straw hat pulled over his face. Richard had walked up to Kirkleatham +on business for his father. No one knew exactly what had become of +Olive. + +'She will turn up at tea-time, she always does,' suggested Roy, in a +tone of dreamy indifference. 'Go on, Polly, you have a sweet little +voice for reading as well as singing. We are reading Milton, Aunt Milly, +only Polly sometimes stops to spell the long words, which somehow breaks +the Miltonic wave of harmony. Can't you fancy I am Adam, and you are +Eve, Polly, and this is a little bit of Paradise--just that delicious +dip of green, with the trees and the water; and the milky mother of the +herd coming down to the river to drink; and the rich golden streak of +light behind Mallerstang? If it were not Sunday now,' and Roy's fingers +grasped an imaginary brush. + +'Roy and Polly seem to live in a Paradise of their own,' thought +Mildred, as she passed through the quiet streets. 'They have only known +each other for two days, and yet they are always together and share a +community of interest--they are both such bright, clever, affectionate +creatures. I wonder where Olive is, and whether she even knows what a +real idle hour of _dolce far niente_ means. That girl must be taught +positively how to enjoy;' and Mildred pushed the heavy swinging cemetery +gates with a sigh, as she thought how joyless and weary seemed Olive's +life compared to that of the bright happy creature they had laid there. +Betha's nature was of the heartsease type; it seemed strange that the +mother had transmitted none of her sweet sunshiny happiness to her young +daughter; but here Mildred paused in her wonderings with a sudden start. +She was not alone as she supposed. She had reached a shady corner behind +the chapel, where there was a little plot of grass and an acacia tree; +and against the marble cross under which Betha Lambert's name was +written there sat, or rather leant--for the attitude was forlorn even in +its restfulness--a drooping, black figure easily recognised as Olive. + +'This is where she comes on Sunday afternoons; she keeps it a secret +from the others; none of them have discovered it,' thought Mildred, +grieved at having disturbed the girl's sacred privacy, and she was +quietly retracing her steps, when Olive suddenly raised her head from +the book she was reading. As their eyes met, there was a start and a +sudden rush of sensitive colour to the girl's face. + +'I did not know; I am so sorry to disturb you, my love,' began Mildred, +apologetically. + +'It does not disturb me--at least, not much,' was the truthful answer. +'I don't like the others to know I come here--because--oh, I have +reasons--but this is your first visit, Aunt Milly,' divining Mildred's +sympathy by some unerring instinct. + +'Yes--may I stay for a moment? thank you, my dear,' as Olive willingly +made room for her. 'How beautiful and simple; just the words she loved,' +and Mildred read the inscription and chosen text--'His banner over me is +love.' + +'Do you like it? Mamma chose it herself; she said it was so true of her +life.' + +'Happy Betha!' and in a lower voice, 'Happy Olive!' + +'Why, Aunt Milly?' + +'To have had such a mother, though it be only to lose her. Think of the +dear bright smiles with which she will welcome you all home.' + +Olive's eyes glistened, but she made no answer. Mildred was struck with +the quiet repose of her manner; the anxious careworn look had +disappeared for the time, and the soft intelligence of her face bore the +stamp of some lofty thought. + +'Do you always come here, Olive? At this time I mean.' + +'Yes, always--I have never missed once; it seems to rest me for the +week. Just at first, perhaps, it made me sad, but now it is different.' + +'How do you mean, my dear?' + +'I don't know that I can put it exactly in words,' she returned, +troubled by a want of definite expression. 'At first it used to make me +cry, and wish I were dead, but now I never feel so like living as when I +am here.' + +'Try to make me understand. I don't think you will find me +unsympathising,' in Mildred's tenderest tones. + +'You are never that, Aunt Milly. I find myself telling you things +already. Don't you see, I can come and pour out all my trouble to her, +just as I used to? and sometimes I fancy she answers me, not in +speaking, you know, but in the thoughts that come as I sit here.' + +'That is a beautiful fancy, Olive.' + +'Others might laugh at it--Cardie would, I know, but it is impossible to +believe mamma can help loving us wherever she is; and she always liked +us to come and tell her everything, when we were naughty, or if we had +anything nice happening to us.' + +'Yes, dear, I quite understand. But you were reading.' + +'That was mamma's favourite book. I generally read a few pages before I +go. One seems to understand it all so much better in this quiet place, +with the sun shining, and all those graves round. One's little troubles +seem so small and paltry by comparison.' + +Mildred did not answer. She took the book out of Olive's hand--it was +_Thomas ą Kempis_--and a red pencil line had marked the following +passage:-- + + 'Thou shalt not long toil here, nor always be oppressed with griefs. + 'Wait a little while, and thou shalt see a speedy end of thy evils. + 'There will come a time when all labour and trouble shall cease, + 'Poor and brief is all that passeth away with time. + 'Do [in earnest] what thou doest; labour faithfully in My vineyard: + I will be thy recompense. + 'Write, read, chant, mourn, keep silence, pray, endure crosses + manfully; life everlasting is worth all these conflicts, and + greater than these. + 'Peace shall come in one day, which is known unto the Lord; and it + shall not be day nor night (that is at this present time), but + unceasing light, infinite brightness, stedfast peace, and secure + rest.' + +'Don't you like it?' whispered Olive, timidly; but Mildred still made no +answer. How she had wronged this girl! Under the ungainly form lay this +beautiful soul-coinage, fresh from God's mint, with His stamp of +innocence and divinity fresh on it, to be marred by a world's use or +abuse. + +Mildred's clear instinct had already detected unusual intelligence under +the clumsiness and awkward ways that were provocative of perpetual +censure in the family circle. The timidity that seemed to others a cloak +for mere coldness had not deceived her. But she was not prepared for +this faith that defied dead matter, and clung about the spirit footsteps +of the mother, bearing in the silence--that baffling silence to smaller +natures--the faint perceptive whispers of deathless love. + +'Olive, you have made me ashamed of my own doubts,' she said at last, +taking the girl's hand and looking on the unlovely face with feelings +akin to reverence. 'I see now, as I never have done before, how a +thorough understanding robs even death of its terror--how "perfect love +casteth out fear."' + +'If one could always feel as one does now,' sighed Olive, raising her +dark eyes with a new yearning in them. 'But the rest and the strength +seem to last for such a little time. Last Sunday,' she continued, sadly, +'I felt almost happy sitting here. Life seemed somehow sweet, after all, +but before evening I was utterly wretched.' + +'By your own fault, or by that of others?' + +'My own, of course. If I were not so provoking in my ways--Cardie, I +mean--the others would not be so hard on me. Thinking makes one absent, +and then mistakes happen.' + +'Yes, I see.' Mildred did not say more. She felt the time was not come +for dealing with the strange idiosyncrasies of a peculiar and difficult +character. She was ignorant as yet what special gifts or graces of +imagination lay under the comprehensive term of 'bookishness,' which had +led her to fear in Olive the typical bluestocking. But she was not wrong +in the supposition that Olive's very goodness bordered on faultiness; +over-conscientiousness, and morbid scrupulosity, producing a sort of +mental fatigue in the onlooker--restfulness being always more highly +prized by us poor mortals than any amount of struggling and perceptible +virtue. + +Mildred was a true diplomatist by nature--most womanly women are. It was +from no want of sympathy, but an exercise of real judgment, that she now +quietly concluded the conversation by the suggestion that they should go +home. + +Mildred had the satisfaction of hearing her brother preach that evening, +and, though some of the old fire and vigour were wanting, and there were +at times the languid utterances of failing strength, still it was +evident that, for the moment, sorrow was forgotten in the deep +earnestness of one who feels the immensity of the task before him--the +awful responsibility of the cure of souls. + +The text was, 'Why halt ye between two opinions?' and afforded a rich +scope for persuasive argument; and Mildred's attention never wavered but +once, when her eyes rested for a moment accidentally on Richard. He and +Roy, with some other younger members of the congregation, occupied the +choir-stalls, or rather the seats appropriated for the purpose, the real +choir-stalls being occupied by some of the neighbouring farmers and +their families--an abuse that Mr. Lambert had not yet been able to +rectify. + +Roy's sleepy blue eyes were half closed; but Richard's forehead was +deeply furrowed with the lines of intense thought, a heavy frown settled +over the brows, and the mouth was rigid; the immobility of feature and +fixed contraction of the pupils bespeaking some violent struggle within. + +The sunset clouds were just waning into pallor and blue-gray +indistinctness, with a lightning-like breadth of gold on the outermost +edges, when Mildred stepped out from the dark porch, with Polly hanging +on her arm. + +'Is that Jupiter or Venus, Aunt Milly?' she asked, pointing to the sky +above them. 'It looks large and grand enough for Jupiter; and oh, how +sweet the wet grass smells!' + +'You are right, my little astronomer,' said a voice close behind them. +'There is the king of planets in all his majesty. Miss Lambert, I hope +you recognise an old acquaintance as well as a new friend. Ah, Polly! +Faithful, though a woman! I see you have not forgotten me.' And Dr. +Heriot laughed a low amused laugh at feeling his disengaged hand grasped +by Polly's soft little fingers. + +The laugh nettled her. + +'No, I have not forgotten, though other people have, it seems,' she +returned, with a little dignity, and dropping his hand. 'Three whole +days, and you have never been to see us or bid us welcome! Do you wonder +Aunt Milly and I are offended?' + +Mildred coloured, but she had too much good sense to disclaim a share in +Polly's childish reproaches. + +'I will make my apology to Miss Lambert when she feels it is needed; at +present she might rather look upon it in the light of a liberty,' +observed Dr. Heriot, coolly. 'Country practitioners are not very +punctual in paying mere visits of ceremony. I hope you have recovered +from the fatigues of settling down in a new place, Miss Lambert?' + +Mildred smiled. 'It is a very bearable sort of fatigue. Polly and I +begin to look upon ourselves as old inhabitants. Novelty and strangeness +soon wear off.' + +'And you are happy, Polly?'--repossessing himself of the little hand, +and speaking in a changed voice, at once grave and gentle. + +'Very--at least, when I am not thinking of papa' (the last very softly). +'I like the vicarage, and I like Roy--oh, so much!--almost as much as +Aunt Milly.' + +'That is well'--with a benign look, that somehow included Mildred--'but +how about Mr. Lambert and Richard and Olive? I hope my ward does not +mean to be exclusive in her likings.' + +'Mr Lambert is good, but sad--so sad!' returned Polly, with a solemn +shake of her head. 'I try not to look at him; he makes me ache all over. +And Olive is dreadful; she has not a bit of life in her; and she has got +a stoop like the old woman before us in church.' + +'Some one would be the better for some of Olive's charity, I think,' +observed her guardian, laughing. 'You must take care of this little +piece of originality, Miss Lambert; it has a trifle too much keenness. +"The pungent grains of titillating dust," as Pope has it, perceptible in +your discourse, Polly, have a certain sharpness of flavour. So handsome +Dick is under the lash, eh?' + +Polly held her peace. + +'Come, I am curious to hear your opinion of Mentor the younger, as Rex +calls him.' + +'"Sternly he pronounced the rigid interdiction" _vide_ Milton. Don't go +away, Dick; it will be wholesome discipline on the score of listeners +hearing no good of themselves.' + +'What, are you behind us, lads? Polly's discernment was not at fault, +then.' + +'It was not that,' she returned, indifferently. 'Richard knows I think +him cross and disagreeable. He and Chrissy put me in mind sometimes of +the Pharisees and Sadducees.' + +The rest laughed; but her guardian ejaculated, half-seriously, 'Defend +me from such a Polly!' + +'Well, am I not right?' she continued, pouting. 'Chrissy never believes +anything, and Richard is always measuring out rules for himself and +other people. You know you are tiresome sometimes,' she continued, +facing round on Richard, to the great amusement of the others; but the +rigid face hardly relaxed into a smile. He was in no mood for amusement +to-night. + +'Come, I won't have fault found with our young Mentor. I am afraid my +ward is a little contumacious, Miss Lambert,' turning to her, as she +stood with the little group outside the vicarage. + +'I don't understand your long words; but I see you are all laughing at +me,' returned Polly, in a tone of such pique that Dr. Heriot very wisely +changed the conversation. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +A MOTHER IN ISRAEL + + 'Of marvellous gentleness she was unto all folk, but specially + unto her own, whom she trusted and loved right tenderly. Unkind + she would not be unto no creature, nor forgetful of any + kindness or service done to her before, which is no little part + of nobleness.... Merciful also and piteous she was unto such as + was grieved and troubled, and to them that were in poverty or + sickness, or any other trouble.'--Fisher, Bishop of Rochester. + + +Mildred was not slow in perceiving that Dr. Heriot had imported a new +element of cheerfulness into the family circle; they were all seated +cosily round the supper-table when she came downstairs. Olive, who had +probably received some hint to that effect, had placed herself between +her father and Richard. + +Mildred looked at the vacant place at the head of the table a little +dubiously. + +'Never hesitate in claiming abrogated authority,' observed Dr. Heriot, +gravely, as he placed the chair for her. + +Mildred gave him a puzzled glance: 'Does my brother--does Olive wish +it?' + +'Can you doubt it?' he returned, reproachfully. 'Have you not found out +how wearily those young shoulders bear the weight of any +responsibility!' with a pitying glance in Olive's direction, which +seemed hardly needed, for she looked brighter than usual. 'Give them +time to gain strength, and she will thank you for the mercy shown her. +To-night she will eat her supper with some degree of enjoyment, now this +joint is off her mind,' and, quietly appropriating the carving-knife, he +was soon engaged in satisfying the young and healthy appetites round +him; while answering at the same time the numerous questions Roy and +Chrissy were pleased to put to him. + +Dr. Heriot, or Dr. John, as they called him, seemed the family referee. +A great stress was laid on the three days' absence, which it was averred +had accumulated a mass of plans to be decided. + +Richard wanted to consult him about the mare. Mr. Lambert had some +lengthy document from the Bounty Office to show him. Chrissy begged for +an invitation for herself and Polly for the following evening, and Olive +pleaded to be allowed to come too, as she wanted to refer to some books +in his library. + +Polly looked from one to the other only half-pleased with all this +familiarity. 'He might be every one's guardian,' she remarked _sotto +voce_ to Roy; but Dr. Heriot soon found means to allay the childish +jealousy, which he was quick enough to perceive. + +Mildred thought he looked younger and happier to-night, with all those +young aspirants for his notice pressing round him. She was startled to +hear a soft laugh from Olive once, though it was checked immediately, as +though duty put a force on inclination. + +Mr. Lambert retired to his study after supper, and Olive, at Dr. +Heriot's request, went to the piano. Mildred had heard she had no taste +for music; but to her surprise she played some hymns with accuracy and +feeling, the others joining in as they pleased. Richard pleaded fatigue +and a headache, and sat in the farthest corner, looking over the dark +fells, and shading his eyes from the lamplight; but Dr. Heriot sang in a +rich, full voice, Polly sitting at his feet and sharing his hymn-book, +while Chrissy looked over his shoulder. Mildred was enjoying the +harmony, and wondering over Roy's beautiful tenor, when she was startled +to see him turn suddenly very pale, and leave off singing; and a moment +afterwards, as though unable to contain himself, he abruptly left the +room. + +Olive glanced uneasily round, and then, under cover of the singing, +whispered to Mildred-- + +'I forgot. Oh, how careless!--how wrong of me! Aunt Milly, will you +please go after him?' + +Mildred obeyed. She found him leaning against the open garden +door--white, and almost gasping. + +'My dear boy, you are ill. Shall I call Dr. Heriot to you?' but he shook +his head impatiently. + +'Nonsense--I am all right; at least, I shall be in a moment. Don't stay, +Aunt Milly. I would not have Cardie see me for worlds; he would be +blaming Olive, and I know she forgot.' + +'The hymn we were singing, do you mean?' + +'Yes; she--mamma--was so fond of it. We used to have it every night in +her room. She asked for it almost at the last. _Sun of my soul;_ the +hymn of hymns, she called it. It was just like Livy to forget. I can +stand any but that one--it beats me. Ah, Aunt Milly!' his boyish tones +suddenly breaking beyond control. + +'Dear Rex, don't mind; these feelings do you honour. I love you the +better for them;' pressing the fair head tenderly to her shoulder, as +she had done Chrissy's. She was half afraid he might resent the action, +but for the moment his manhood was helpless. + +'That is just what she used to do,' he said, with a half sob. 'You +remind me of her somehow, Aunt Milly. There's some one coming after us. +Please--please let me go,'--the petulant dignity of seventeen years +asserting itself again,--but he seemed still so white and shaken that +she ventured to detain him. + +'Roy, dear, it is only Olive. There is nothing of which to be ashamed.' + +'Livy, oh, I don't mind her. I thought it was Dick or Heriot. Livy, how +could you play that thing when you know--you know----' but the rest of +the speech was choked somehow. + +'Oh, Rex, I am so sorry.' + +'Well, never mind; it can't be helped now. Only Aunt Milly has seen me +make an ass of myself.' + +'You are too good to scold me, Rex, I know, but I am grieved--I am +indeed. I am so fond of that hymn for her sake, that I always play it to +myself; and I forgot you could not bear it,' continued poor Olive, +humbly. + +'All right; you need not cover yourself with dust and ashes,' +interrupted Roy, with a nervous laugh. 'Ah, confound it, there's +Richard! What a fellow he is for turning up at the wrong time. +Good-night, Livy,' he continued, with a pretence at cheerfulness; 'the +dews are unwholesome. Pleasant dreams and sweet repose;' but Olive still +lingered, regardless of Roy's good-humoured attempts to save an +additional scolding. + +'Well, what's all this about?' demanded Richard, abruptly. + +'It is my fault, as usual, Cardie,' returned Olive, courting her fate +with clumsy bravery. 'I upset him by playing that hymn. Of course I +ought to have remembered.' + +'Culprit, plaintiff, defendant, and judge in one,' groaned Roy. 'Spare +us the rest, Dick, and prove to our young minds that honesty is the best +policy.' + +But Richard's brow-grew dark. 'This is the second time it has happened; +it is too bad, Olive. Not content with harassing us from morning to +night with your shiftless, unwomanly ways, you must make a blunder like +this. One's most sacred feelings trampled on mercilessly,--it is +unpardonable.' + +'Oh, draw it mild, Dick;' but Roy's lip still quivered; his sensitive +nature had evidently received a shock. + +'You are too good-natured, Rex. Such cruel heedlessness deserves +reproof, but it is all lost on Livy; she will never understand how we +feel about these things.' + +'Indeed, Cardie----' but Richard sternly checked her. + +'There is no use in saying anything more about it. If you are so devoid +of tact and feeling, you can at least have the grace to be ashamed of +yourself. Come, Roy, a turn in the air will do you good; my head still +aches badly. Let us go down over Hillsbottom for a stroll;' and Richard +laid his hand persuasively on Roy's shoulder. + +Roy shook off his depression with an effort. Mildred fancied his +brother's well-meant attempt at consolation jarred on him; but he was of +too easy a nature to contend against a stronger will; he hesitated a +moment, however. + +'We have not said good-night to Livy.' + +'Be quick about it, then,' returned Richard, turning on his heel; then +remembering himself, 'Good-night, Aunt Milly. I suppose we shall not see +you on our return?' but he took no notice of Olive, though she mutely +offered her cheek as he passed. + +'My dear, you will take cold, standing out here with uncovered head,' +Mildred said, passing her arm gently through the girl's to draw her to +the house; but Olive shook her head, and remained rooted to the spot. + +'He never bade me good-night,' she said at last, and then a large tear +rolled slowly down her lace. + +'Do you mean Richard? He is not himself to-night; something is troubling +him, I am sure.' But Mildred felt a little indignation rising, as she +thought of her nephew's hardness. + +'Rex kissed me, though; and he was the one I hurt. Rex is never hard and +unkind. Oh, Aunt Milly, I think Cardie begins to dislike me;' the tears +falling faster over her pale cheeks. + +'My dear Olive, this is only one of your morbid fancies. It is wrong to +say such things--wrong to Richard.' + +'Why should I not say what I think? There, do you see them'--pointing to +a strip of moonlight beyond the bridge--'he has his arm round Roy, and +is talking to him gently. I know his way; he can be, oh so gentle when +he likes. He is only hard to me; he is kinder even to Chrissy, who +teases him from morning to night; and I do not deserve it, because I +love him so;' burying her face in her hands, and weeping convulsively, +as no one had ever seen Olive weep before. + +'Hush, dear--hush; you are tired and overstrained with the long day's +work, or you would not fret so over an impatient word. Richard does not +mean to be unkind, but he is domineering by nature, and----' + +'No, Aunt Milly, not domineering,' striving to speak between her sobs; +'he thinks so little of himself, and so much of others. He is vexed +about Roy's being upset; he is so fond of Roy.' + +'Yes, but he has no right to misunderstand his sister so completely.' + +'I don't think I am the right sort of sister for him, Aunt Milly. Polly +would suit him better: she is so bright and winning; and then he cares +so much about looks.' + +'Nonsense, Olive: men don't think if their sisters have beauty or not. I +mean it does not make any difference in their affection.' + +'Ah, it does with Cardie. He thinks Chriss will be pretty, and so he +takes more notice of her. He said once it was very hard for a man not to +be proud of his sisters; he meant me, I know. He is always finding fault +with my hair and my dress, and telling me no woman need be absolutely +ugly unless she likes.' + +'I can see a gleam in the clouds now. We will please our young +taskmaster before we have done.' + +Olive smiled faintly, but the tears still came. It was true: she was +worn in body and mind. In this state tears are a needful luxury, as +Mildred well knew. + +'It is not this I mind. Of course one would be beautiful if one could; +but I should think it paltry to care,' speaking with mingled simplicity +and resignation. + +'Mamma told us not to trouble about such things, as it would all be made +up to us one day. What I really mind is his thinking I do not share his +and Roy's feelings about things.' + +'People have different modes of expressing them. You could play that +hymn, you see.' + +'Yes, and love to do it. When Roy left the room I had forgotten +everything. I thought mamma was singing it with us, and it seemed so +beautiful.' + +'Richard would call that visionary.' + +'He would never know;' her voice dropping again into its hopeless key. +'He thinks I am too cold to care much even about that; he does indeed, +Aunt Milly:' as Mildred, shocked and distressed, strove to hush her. +'Not that I blame him, because Roy thinks the same. I never talk to any +of them as I have done to you these two days.' + +'Then we have something tangible on which to lay the blame. You are too +reserved with your brothers, Olive. You do not let them see how much you +feel about things.' She winced. + +'No, I could not bear to be repulsed. I would rather--much rather--be +thought cold, than laughed at for a visionary. Would not you, Aunt +Milly? It hurts less, I think.' + +'And you can hug yourself in the belief that no one has discovered the +real Olive. You can shut yourself up in your citadel, while they batter +at the outworks. My poor girl, why need you shroud yourself, as though +your heart, a loving one, Olive, had some hidden deformity? If Richard +had my eyes, he would think differently.' + +Olive shook her head. + +'My child, you depreciate yourself too much. We have no right to look +down on any piece of God's handiwork. Separate yourself from your +faults. Your poor soul suffers for want of cherishing. It does not +deserve such harsh treatment. Why not respect yourself as one whom God +intends to make like unto the angels?' + +'Aunt Milly, no one has said such things to me before.' + +'Well, dear!' + +'It is beautiful--the idea, I mean--it seems to heal the sore place.' + +'I meant it to do so. It is not more beautiful than the filial love that +can find rest by a mother's grave. Cardie would never think of doing +that. When his paroxysms of pain come on him, he vents himself in long +solitary walks, or shuts himself up in his room.' + +'Aunt Milly, how did you know that? who told you?' + +'My own intuition,' returned Mildred, smiling. 'Come, child, it is long +past ten. I wonder what Polly and Dr. Heriot have been doing with +themselves all this time. Go to sleep and forget all about these +troubles;' and Mildred kissed the tear-stained face tenderly as she +spoke. + +She found Dr. Heriot alone when she entered the drawing-room. He looked +up at her rather strangely, she thought. Could he have overheard any of +their conversation? + +'I was just coming out to warn you of imprudence,' he said, rising and +offering her his chair. 'Sit there and rest yourself a little. Do +mothers in Israel generally have such tired faces?' regarding her with a +grave, inscrutable smile. + +He had heard then. Mildred could not help the rising colour that +testified to her annoyance. + +'Forgive me,' he returned, leaning over the back of her chair, and +speaking with the utmost gentleness. 'I did not mean to annoy you, far +from it. Your voices just underneath the window reached me occasionally, +and I only heard enough to----' + +'Well, Dr. Heriot?' + +Mildred sat absolutely on thorns. + +'To justify the name I just called you. I cannot help it, Miss Lambert, +you so thoroughly deserve it.' + +Mildred grew scarlet. + +'You ought to have given us a hint. Olive had no idea, neither had I. I +thought--we thought, you were talking to the girls.' + +'So I was; but I sent them away long ago. My dear Miss Lambert, I +believe you are accusing me in your heart of listening,' elevating his +eyebrows slightly, as though the idea was absurd. 'Pray dismiss such a +notion from your mind. I was in a brown study, and thinking of my +favourite Richard, when poor Olive's sobs roused me.' + +'Richard your favourite!' + +'Yes, is he not yours?' with an inquisitive glance. 'All Dick's faults, +glaring as they are, could not hide his real excellence from such +observing eyes.' + +'He interests me,' she returned, reluctantly; 'but they all do that of +course.' Somehow she was loath to confess to a secret predilection in +Richard's favour. 'He does not deserve me to speak well of him +to-night,' she continued, with her usual candour. + +Dr. Heriot looked surprised. + +'He has been captious and sharp with Olive again, I suppose. I love to +see a woman side with her sex. Well, do you know, if I were Richard, +Olive would provoke me.' + +'Possibly,' was Mildred's cool reply, for the remembrance of the sad +tear-stained face made any criticism on Olive peculiarly unpalatable at +that moment. + +Dr. Heriot was quick to read the feeling. + +'Don't be afraid, Miss Lambert. I don't mean to say a word against your +adopted daughter, only to express my thankfulness that she has fallen +into such tender hands,' and for a moment he looked at the slim, +finely-shaped hands lying folded in Mildred's lap, and which were her +chief beauty. 'I only want you to be lenient in your judgment of +Richard, for in his present state she tries him sorely.' + +'One can see he is very unhappy.' + +'People are who create a Doubting Castle for themselves, and carry Giant +Despair, as a sort of old man of the mountains, on their shoulders,' he +returned, drily. '"The perfect woman nobly planned" is rather an +inconvenient sort of burden too. Well, it is growing late, and I must go +and look after those boys.' + +'Wait a minute, Dr. Heriot. You know his trouble, perhaps?' + +He nodded. + +'Troubles, you mean. They are threefold, at least, poor Cardie! Very few +youths of nineteen know how to arrange their life, or to like other +people to arrange it for them.' + +'I want to ask you something; you know them all so well. Do you think I +shall ever win his confidence?' + +'You,' looking at her kindly; 'no one deserves it more, of course; +but----' pausing in some perplexity. + +'You hesitate.' + +'Well, Cardie is peculiar. His mother was his sole confidant, and, when +he lost her, I verily believe the poor fellow was as near heart-break as +possible. I have got into his good graces lately, and now and then he +lets off the steam; but not often. He is a great deal up at Kirkleatham +House; but I doubt the wisdom of an adviser so young and fair as Miss +Trelawny.' + +'Miss Trelawny! Who is she?' + +'What, have you not heard of "Ethel the Magnificent"? The neighbourhood +reports that Richard and I have both lost our hearts to her, and are +rivals. Only believe half you hear in Kirkby Stephen, Miss Lambert.' But +Richard is only nineteen.' + +'True; and I was accused of wearing her hair in a locket at my +watch-guard. Miss Trelawny's hair is light brown, and this is bright +auburn. I don't trouble myself to inform people that I may possibly be +wearing my mother's hair.' + +'Then you don't think my task will be easy?' asked Mildred, ignoring the +bitterness with which he had spoken. + +'What task--that of winning Cardie's confidence? I hope you don't mean +to be an anxious mother, and grow gray before your time.' Then, as +though touched by Mildred's yearning look, 'I wish I could promise you +would have no difficulty; but facts are stubborn things. Richard is +close and somewhat impracticable; but as you seem an adept in winning, +you may soften down his ruggedness sooner than we expect. Come, is that +vaguely encouraging?' + +One of Mildred's quaint smiles flitted over her face as she answered-- + +'Not very; but I mean to try, however. If I am to succeed I must give +Miss Trelawny a wide berth.' + +'Why so I' looking at her in surprise. + +'If your hint be true, Richard's mannishness would never brook feminine +interference.' + +Dr. Heriot laughed. + +'I was hardly prepared for such feminine sagacity. You are a wise woman, +Miss Lambert. If you go on like this, we shall all be afraid of you. The +specimen is rare enough in these parts, I assure you. Well, good-night.' + +It was with mingled feelings that Mildred retired to rest that night. +The events of the day, with its jarring interests and disturbed harmony, +had given her deep insight into the young lives around her. + +Three days!--she felt as though she had been three months among them. +She was thankful that Olive's confidence seemed already won--thankful +and touched to the heart; and though her conversation with Dr. Heriot +had a little damped her with regard to Richard, hers was the sort of +courage that gains strength with obstacles; and, before she slept that +night, the fond prayer rose to her lips, that Betha's sons might find a +friend in her. + +She woke the next morning with a consciousness that duty lay ready to +hand, opening out before her as the dawn brightened into day. On her way +downstairs she came upon Olive, looking heavy-eyed and unrefreshed, as +though from insufficient sleep. She was hunting among her father's +papers for a book she had mislaid. + +'Have you seen it, Aunt Milly?' + +'Do you mean this?' holding out a dilapidated _Wilhelm Tell_ for her +inspection. 'I picked it up in the court, and placed it on the shelf for +safety. Wait a moment, dear,' as Olive was rushing away, 'I want to +speak to you. Was it by yours or your father's wish that you gave up +your seat at supper to me?' + +'Oh, it was Dr. John--at least--I mean I would much rather you always +had it, Aunt Milly,' returned Olive, in her usual incoherent fashion. +'Please, do take it; it was such a load off my mind to see you sitting +there.' + +'But, my dear,' remonstrated Mildred; but Olive interrupted her with +unusual eagerness. + +'Oh, you must; you look so much nicer; and I hate it so. Dr. John +arranged it all, and papa said "Yes," as he always does. He put it so +kindly, that one could not mind; he told papa that with my +disposition--timidity he meant, and absence of mind--it would be better +for everybody's comfort if you assumed the entire management of +everything at once; and that it would be better for me to learn from you +for a few years, until you had made me a capable woman. Cardie heard +him, I know; for he gave quite a sigh of relief.' + +'Perhaps they are right; but it seems strange for Dr. Heriot to +interfere in such a matter,' returned Mildred, in a puzzled tone. + +'Oh, Dr. John always settles things; nobody calls it interference from +him,' explained Olive, in her simple matter-of-fact way. 'It is such a +relief to be told what to do. Papa only thanked him, and begged me to +put myself entirely under your direction. You are to have the keys, and +I am to show you the store cupboards and places, and to introduce you to +Nan. We are afraid you will find her a little troublesome at first, Aunt +Milly;' but Mildred only smiled, and assured her she was not afraid of +Nan, and as the bells were ringing the brief colloquy ceased. + +Mildred was quite aware Dr. Heriot was in church, as his fine voice was +distinctly audible, leading the responses. To her surprise he joined +them after service, and without waiting for an invitation, announced his +intention of breakfasting with them. + +'Nan's rolls are especially tempting on Monday morning,' he observed, +coolly; 'but to-day that is not my inducement. Is teaching one's ward +the catechism included in the category of a guardian's duty, Miss +Lambert?' + +'I was not aware that such was the case,' returned Mildred, laughing. +'Do you mean to teach Polly hers?' + +Polly drew herself up affronted. + +'I am not a little girl; I am fourteen.' + +'What a great age, and what a literal Polly!' taking her hands, and +looking at her with an amused twinkle in his eyes. 'Last night you +certainly looked nothing but a good little girl, singing hymns at my +feet; but to-day you are bridling like a young princess; you are as fond +of transformation as Proteus.' + +'Who is Proteus?' + +'A sea-god--but there is your breakfast; the catechism must wait till +afterwards. I mean to introduce you to Mrs. Cranford in proper style. +Miss Lambert, is your coffee always so good? I trust not, or my presence +may prove harassing at the breakfast-table.' + +'It is excellent, Aunt Milly:' the last from Richard. + +Mildred hoped the tone of hearty commendation would not reach Olive's +ear, as her German grammar lay by her plate as usual; but she only +looked up and nodded pleasantly. + +'I never could make coffee nicely; you must teach me, Aunt Milly,' and +dropped her eyes on her book again. + +'No paltry jealousy there,' thought Mildred; and she sat behind her urn +well pleased, for even Arnold had roused himself once to ask for his cup +to be replenished. Mildred had been called away on some household +business, and on her return she found Dr. Heriot alone, reading the +paper. He put it down as she entered. + +'Well, is Nan formidable?' + +'Her dialect is,' returned Mildred, smiling; 'I am afraid she looks upon +me in the light of an interloper. I hope she does not always mean to +call me "t'maister's sister."' + +'Probably. Nan has her idiosyncrasies, but they are rather puzzling than +dangerous; she is a type of the old Daleswoman, sturdy, independent, and +sharp-tongued; but she is a good creature in the main, though a little +contemptuous on "women-foaks." I believe Dick is her special favourite, +though she told him once "he's niver off a grummle, and that she was +fair stot t' deeth wi't sound on't," if you know what that means.' + +Mildred shook her head. + +'You must not expect too much respect to a southerner at first. I did +battle on your behalf before you came, Miss Lambert, and got terribly +worsted. "Bless me, weel, Doctor!" says Nan, "what's the matter that +t'maister's sister come here? I can do verra weel by messel', and Miss +Olive can fend for hersel'; it's nought but daftness, but it's ne'er my +business; if they please themselves they please me. I must bide +t'bitterment."' + +Mildred gave one of her quiet laughs. + +'Nan and I will be great friends soon; we must learn to respect each +other's prejudices. Poor Olive had not a chance of putting in a word. +Nan treated her as though she were a mere infant.' + +'She has known her ever since she was one, you see, Miss Lambert. I have +been putting Polly through her paces, and find she has plenty to learn +and unlearn.' + +'I suppose she has been tolerably well educated?' + +'Pretty fairly, but after a desultory fashion. I fancy she has picked up +knowledge somehow, as a bird picks up crumbs; her French accent is +perfect, and she knows a little German. She is mostly deficient in +English. I must have a long talk with Mrs. Cranford.' + +'I understood Polly was to take lessons from her?' + +'You must take an early opportunity of making her acquaintance; she is +truly excellent; the girls are fortunate in having such an instructress. +Do you know, Chrissy is already a fair Latin scholar.' + +'Chrissy! you mean Olive, surely?' + +'No, Chriss is the bluestocking--does Euclid with the boys, and already +develops a taste for mathematics. Mr. Lambert used to direct her severer +studies. I believe Richard does it now. Olive's talents lie in quite +another direction.' + +'I am anxious to know--is she really clever?' asked Mildred, astonished +at this piece of information. + +'I believe she is tolerably well read for a girl of her age, and is +especially fond of languages--the modern ones I mean--though her father +has taught her Latin. I have always thought myself, that under that +timid and lethargic exterior there is a vast amount of imaginative +force--certain turns of speech in her happier moments prove it to me. I +should not be surprised if we live to discover she has genius.' + +'I am convinced that hers is no ordinary mind,' returned Mildred, +seriously; 'but her goodness somehow pains one.' + +Dr. Heriot laughed. + +'Have you ever heard Roy's addition to the table of weights and +measures, "How many scruples make an olive?" he asked. 'My dear Miss +Lambert, that girl is a walking conscience; she has the sort of mind +that adds, subtracts, divides, and multiplies duties, till the +grasshopper becomes a burden; she is one of the most thoroughly +uncomfortable Christians I ever knew. It is a disease,' he continued, +more gravely, 'a form of internal and spiritual hyperclimacteric, and +must be treated as such.' + +'I wish she were more like your ward,' replied Mildred, anxiously; +'Polly is so healthy and girlish--she lives too much to have time for +always probing her feelings.' + +'You are right,' was the answer. 'Polly is just the happy medium, +neither too clever nor too stupid--a loving-hearted child, who will one +of these days develop into a loving-hearted woman. Is she not delicious +with her boyish head and piquante face--pretty too, don't you think so?' +And as the sound of the girls' voices reached them at this moment, Dr. +Heriot rose, and a few minutes afterwards Mildred saw him cross the +court, with Polly and Chrissy hanging on each arm. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +'ETHEL THE MAGNIFICENT' + + 'A maid of grace and complete majesty.' + + +Later on in the morning Mildred was passing by the door of her brother's +study, when she heard his voice calling to her. He was sitting in his +usual chair, with his back to the light, reading, but he laid down his +book directly. + +'Are you busy, Mildred?' + +'Not if you want me,' she returned, brightly. 'I was just thinking I had +hardly spoken to you to-day.' + +'The same thought was lying heavy on my conscience. Heriot tells me you +are looking better already. I hope you are beginning to feel at home +with us, my dear.' + +'With you, Arnold--do you need to ask?' Mildred returned, reproachfully. +But the tears started to her eyes. + +'And the children are good to you?' he continued, a little anxiously. + +'They are everything I can wish. Cardie is most thoughtful for my +comfort, and Olive is fast losing her shyness. The only thing I regret +is that I manage to see so little of you, Arnold.' + +He patted her hand gently. 'It is better so, my dear. I am poor company, +I fear, and have grown into strangely unsociable ways. They are good +children; but you must not let them spoil me, Mildred. Sometimes I think +I ought to rouse myself more for their sakes.' + +'Indeed, Arnold, their conduct is most exemplary. Neither Cardie nor Roy +ever seem to let you go out alone.' + +'Ay, ay,' he muttered; 'his mother was right. The lad is beyond his +years, and has a wise head on young shoulders. Heriot tells me I must be +looking out for a curate. I had some notion of waiting for Richard, but +he will have it the work is beyond me.' + +Mildred was silent. She thought any work, however exhausting, was better +than the long lonely hours passed in the study--hours during which his +children were denied admittance, and for which all Richard's mannishness +was not allowed to find a remedy; and yet, as she looked at the wan, +thin face, and weary stoop of the figure, might it not be that Dr. +Heriot was right? + +'Heriot has heard of some one at Durham who is likely to suit me, he +thinks; he wants me to have him down. By the bye, Mildred, how do you +get on with Heriot?' + +'He is very nice,' she returned, vaguely, rather taken aback by the +suddenness of the question. 'Such a general favourite could not fail to +please,' she continued, a little mischievously. + +'Ah, you are laughing at us. Well, Heriot is our weak point, I confess. +Cardie is not given to raptures, but he has not a word to say against +him, and Trelawny is always having him up at Kirkleatham. Kirkby Stephen +could not do without Heriot now.' + +'He is clever in his profession, then?' + +'Very. And then so thoroughly unselfish; he would go twenty miles to do +any one a service, and take as much pains to hide it afterwards. I shall +be disappointed, indeed Mildred, if you and he do not become good +friends.' + +'Dear Arnold, he is a perfect stranger to me yet. I like him quite well +enough to wish to see more of him. There seems some mystery about him,' +she continued, hesitating; for Mildred, honest and straightforward by +nature, was a foe to all mysteries. + +'Only the mystery of a disappointed life. He has no secrets with us--he +never had. We knew him when we lived at Lambeth, and even then his story +was well known to us.' + +'Betha told me he had given up a large West End practice in consequence +of severe domestic trouble. She hinted once that he had a bad wife.' + +'She was hardly deserving of the name. I have heard that she was nine +years older than he, and a great beauty; a woman, too, of marvellous +fascination, and gifted beyond the generality of her sex, and that he +was madly in love when he married her.' + +'Perhaps the love was only on his side?' + +'Alas! yes. He found out, when it was too late, that she had accepted +him out of pique, and that his rival was living. The very first days of +their union were embittered by the discovery that jealousy had forged +these life-long fetters for them, and that already remorse was driving +his unhappy bride almost frantic. Can you conceive the torment for poor +Heriot? He could not set her free, though he loved her so that he would +willingly have laid down his life to give her peace. She had no mother +living, or he would have sent her away when he saw how distasteful his +presence was to her; but, though she had murdered his happiness as well +as her own, he was bound to be her protector.' + +'He was right,' returned Mildred, in a low voice. + +'Ay, and he acted nobly. Instead of overwhelming her with reproaches +that could have done no good, or crushing her still more with his +coldness, he forgave her, and set himself to win the heart that proved +itself so unworthy of his forbearance. Any other husband would have +thought himself injured beyond reparation, but not so Heriot. He hid his +wretchedness, and by every means in his power tried to lighten the +burden of his domestic misery.' + +'But people must have seen it?' + +'Not through his complaint, for he ever honoured her. I have been told +by those who knew him at the time, that his conduct to her was +blameless, and that they marvelled at the gentleness with which he bore +her wayward fits. After the birth of their only child there was an +interval of comparative comfort; in her weakness there was a glimmering +of compassion for the man she had injured, and who was the father of her +boy. Heriot was touched by the unusual kindness of her manner; there +were even tears in her eyes when he took the little creature in his arms +and noticed the long eyelashes, so like his mother's.' + +'But the child died?' + +'Yes--"the little peacemaker," as Heriot fondly called it. But certainly +all peace was buried in its little grave; for it was during the months +that followed her child's loss that Margaret Heriot developed that +unwholesome craving for stimulants which afterwards grew to absolute +disease, and which was to wear out her husband's patience into slow +disgust and then into utter weariness of life.' + +'Oh, Arnold, I never suspected this!' + +'It was just then we made his acquaintance, and, as a priest, he sought +my help and counsel in ministering to what was indeed a diseased mind; +but, poor misguided woman! she would not see me. In her better moments +she would cling to Heriot, and beg him to save her from the demon that +seemed to possess her. She even knelt and asked his forgiveness once; +but no remedy that he could recommend could be effectual in the case of +one who had never been taught to deny herself a moment's gratification. +I shudder to think of the scenes to which she subjected him, of the +daily torture and uncertainty in which he lived: his was the mockery of +a home. Her softer feelings had in time turned to hate; she never spoke +to him at last but to reproach him with being the cause of her misery.' + +'Then it was this that induced him to give up his London practice?' + +'Yes. It was a strange act of his; but I verily believe the man was +broken-hearted. He had grown to loathe his life, and the spectacle of +her daily degradation made him anxious to shake off friends and old +belongings. I believe, too, she had contracted serious debts, and he was +anxious to take her out of the way of temptation. Heriot was always a +creature of impulse; his chief motive in following us here was to bury +himself socially, though I think our friendship had even then become +necessary to him. At one time he trusted, too, that the change might be +beneficial for her; but he soon found out his mistake.' + +'They say that women who have contracted this fatal habit are so seldom +cured,' sighed Mildred. + +'God help their husbands!' ejaculated Mr. Lambert. 'I always thought +myself that the poor creature was possessed, for her acts certainly +bordered on frenzy. He found at last that he was fighting against mental +disease, but he refused all advice to place her under restraint. "I am +her husband," he said once to me; "I have taken her for better and +worse. But there will be no better for her, my poor Margaret; she will +not be long with me--there is another disease at work; let her die in +her husband's home."' + +'But did she die there? I thought Betha told me she was away from him.' + +'Yes, he had sent her with her nurse to the sea, meaning to join them, +when news reached him that she was rapidly failing. The release came +none too soon. Poor creature! she had suffered martyrdom; it was by her +own wish that he was called, but he arrived too late--the final attack +was very sudden. And so, as he said, the demon that had tormented her +was cast out for ever. "Anything more grandly beautiful than she looked +could not be imagined." But what touched him most was to find among the +treasures she had secretly hidden about her, an infant's sock and a +scrap of downy hair; and faintly, almost illegibly, traced on the paper +by her dying hand, "My little son's hair, to be given to his father." +Ah, Mildred, my dear, you look ready to weep; but, alas! such stories +are by no means rare, and during my ministry I have met with others +almost as sad as Heriot's. His troubles are over now, poor fellow, +though doubtless they have left life-long scars. Grieved as he has been, +he may yet see the fruit of his noble forbearance in that tardy +repentance and mute prayer for forgiveness. Who knows but that the first +sight that may meet his eyes in the other world may be Margaret, +"sitting clothed and in her right mind at her Master's feet"?' + +Never had Mildred seen her brother more roused and excited than during +the recital of his friend's unhappy story, while in herself it had +excited a degree of emotion that was almost painful. + +'It shows how carefully we should abstain from judging people from their +outward appearance,' she remarked, after a short interval of silence. +'When I first saw Dr. Heriot I thought there was something a little +repellent in that dark face of his, but when he spoke he gave me a more +pleasing impression.' + +'He has his bitter moods at times; no one could pass through such an +ordeal quite unscathed. I am afraid he will never marry again; he told +me once that the woman did not live whom he could love as he loved +Margaret.' + +'She must have been very beautiful.' + +'I believe her chief charm lay in her wonderful fascination of manner. +Heriot is a severe critic in feminine beauty; he is singularly +fastidious; he will not allow that Miss Trelawny is handsome, though I +believe she is generally considered to be so. But I must not waste any +more time in gossiping about our neighbours. By the bye, Mildred, you +must prepare for an inundation of visitors this afternoon.' + +Mr. Lambert was right. Mildred, to her great surprise, found herself +holding a reception, which lasted late into the afternoon; at one time +there was quite a block of wagonettes and pony carriages in the +courtyard; and but for her brother's kindness in remaining to steer her +through the difficulties of numerous introductions, she might have found +her neighbours' goodwill a little perplexing. + +She had just decided in her own mind that Mrs. Sadler was disagreeable, +and the Northcotes slightly presuming and in bad style, and that Mrs. +Heath was as rosy and commonplace as her husband, when they took their +leave, and another set of visitors arrived who were rather, more to +Mildred's taste. + +These were the Delameres of Castlesteads. The Reverend Stephen Delamere +was a tall, ascetic-looking man, with quiet, well-bred manners, in +severe clerical costume. His wife had a simple, beautiful face, and was +altogether a pleasant, comely-looking creature, but her speech was +somewhat homely; and Mildred thought her a little over-dressed: the pink +cheeks and smiling eyes hardly required the pink ribbons and feathers to +set them off. Their only child, a lad of ten years, was with them, and +Mildred, who was fond of boys, could not help admiring the bold gipsy +face and dark eyes. + +'I am afraid Claude is like me, people say so,' observed Mrs. Delamere, +turning her beaming face on Mildred. 'I would much rather he were like +his father; the Delameres are all good-looking; old Mr. Delamere was; +Stephen called him after his grandfather; I think Claude such a pretty +name; Claude Lorraine Delamere: Lorraine is a family name, too; not +mine, you know,' dimpling more than ever at the idea; 'good gracious, +the Greysons don't own many pretty names among them.' + +'Susie, I have been asking our friend Richard to take an early +opportunity of driving his aunt over to Castlesteads,' interrupted her +husband, with an uneasy glance, 'and we must make Miss Lambert promise +to bring over her nieces to the Rush-bearing.' + +Mrs. Delamere clapped her plump hands together joyously, showing a slit +in her pink glove as she did so. + +'I am so glad you have mentioned that, Stephen, I might have forgotten +it. Miss Lambert, you must come to us; you must indeed. The Chestertons +of the Hall are sure to ask you; but you must remember you are engaged +to us.' + +'The Rush-bearing,' repeated Mildred, somewhat perplexed. + +'It is an old Westmoreland custom,' explained Mr. Delamere; 'it is kept +on St. Peter's Day, and is a special holiday with us. I believe it was +revived in the last century at Great Musgrave,' he continued, looking at +Mr. Lambert for confirmation of the statement. + +'Yes, but it did not long continue; it has been revived again of late; +it is a pretty sight, Mildred, and well worth seeing; the children carry +garlands instead of rushes to the church, where service is said; and +afterwards there is a dance in the park, and sports, such as wrestling, +pole-leaping, and trotting matches, are carried on all the afternoon.' + +'But what is the origin of such a custom, Arnold?' + +'It dates from the time when our forefathers used green rushes instead +of carpets, the intention being to bless the rushes on the day of the +patron saint.' + +'You must permit me to contradict you in one particular, Lambert, as our +authorities slightly differ. The real origin of the custom was that, on +the day of the patron saint, the church was strewn with fresh rushes, +the procession being headed by a girl dressed in white, and wearing a +crown; but Miss Lambert looks impressed,' he continued, with a serious +smile; 'you must come and see it for yourself. Chrissy tells me she is +too old to wear a crown this year. Some of our ladies show great taste +in the formation of their garlands.' + +'May Chesterton's is always the prettiest. Do you mean to dance with May +on the green this year, Claude?' asked Mrs. Delamere, turning to her +boy. + +Claude shook his head and coloured disdainfully. + +'I am going in for the foot-race; father says I may,' he returned, +proudly. + +'May is his little sweetheart; he has been faithful to her ever since he +was six years old. Uncle Greyson says----' + +'Susie, we must be going,' exclaimed her husband, hastily. 'You must not +forget the Chestertons and Islip are dining with us to-night. Claude, my +boy, bid Miss Lambert good-bye. My wife and I hope to see you very soon +at the vicarage.' + +'Yes, come soon,' repeated Mrs. Delamere, with a comfortable squeeze of +her hand and more smiles. 'Stephen is always in such a hurry; but you +must pay us a long visit, and bring that poor girl with you. Yes, I am +ready, Stephen,' as a frown of impatience came over her husband's face. +'You know of old what a sad gossip I am; but there, what are women's +tongues given them for if they are not to be used?' and Susie looked up +archly at the smooth, blue-shaven face, that was slow to relax into a +smile. + +Mildred hoped that these would be her last visitors, but she was +mistaken, for a couple of harmless maiden ladies, rejoicing in the +cognomen of Ortolan, took their places, and chirruped to Mildred in +shrill little birdlike voices. Mildred, who had plenty of quiet humour +of her own, thought they were not unlike a pair of love-birds Arnold had +once given her, the little sharp faces, and hooked noses, and light +prominent eyes were not unlike them; and the bright green shawls, +bordered with yellow palm-leaves, completed the illusion. They were so +wonderfully alike, too, the only perceptible difference being that Miss +Tabitha had gray curls, and a velvet band, and talked more; and Miss +Prissy had a large miniature of an officer, probably an Ortolan too, +adorning her small brown wrist. + +They talked to Mildred breathlessly about the mothers' meeting, and the +clothing-club, and the savings' bank. + +'Such a useful institution of dear Mr. Lambert's,' exclaimed Miss +Prissy. + +'The whole parish is so well conducted,' echoed her sister with a +tremulous movement of the head and curls; 'we think ourselves blessed in +our pastor, Miss Lambert,' in a perfectly audible whisper; 'such +discourses, such clear doctrine and Bible truth, such resignation +manifested under such a trying dispensation. Oh dear, Prissy,' +interrupting herself, as a stanhope, with a couple of dark brown horses, +was driven into the court with some little commotion, 'here is the +squire, and what will he say at our taking the precedence of him, and +making bold to pay our respects to Miss Lambert?' + +'He would say you are very kind neighbours, I hope,' returned Mildred, +trying not to smile, and wondering when her ordeal would be over. Her +brother had not effected his escape yet, and his jaded face was a tacit +reproach to her. Richard, who had ushered in their previous visitors, +and had remained yawning in the background, brightened up visibly. + +'Here are the Trelawnys, sir; it is very good of them to call so soon.' + +'It is only what I should have expected, Cardie,' returned his father, +with mild indifference. 'Mr. Trelawny is a man of the world, and knows +what is right, that is all.' + +And Richard for once looked crestfallen. + +'Dear now, but doesn't she look a beauty,' whispered Miss Tabitha, +ecstatically, as Miss Trelawny swept into the room on her father's arm, +and greeted Mildred civilly, but without effusion, and then seated +herself at some little distance, where Richard immediately joined her, +the squire meanwhile taking up a somewhat lofty attitude on the +hearthrug, directly facing Mildred. + +Mildred thought she had never seen a finer specimen of an English +gentleman; the tall, well-knit figure, the clear-cut face, and olive +complexion, relieved by the snow-white hair, made up a very striking +exterior; perhaps the eyes were a little cold and glassy-looking, but on +the whole it could not be denied that Mr. Trelawny was a very +aristocratic-looking man. + +His manners were easy and polished, and he was evidently well read on +many subjects. Nevertheless a flavour of condescension in his tone gave +Mildred an uneasy conviction that she was hardly appearing to her best +advantage. She was painfully aware once or twice of a slight hesitation +marring a more than usually well-worded sentence, and could see it was +at once perceived. + +Mildred had never considered herself of great consequence, but she had a +certain wholesome self-respect which was grievously wounded by the +patronising indulgence that rectified her harmless error. + +'I felt all at once as though I were nobody, and might be taken up for +false pretensions for trying to be somebody,' as she expressed it to Dr. +Heriot afterwards, who laughed and said-- + +'Very true.' + +Mildred would have risen to seat herself by Miss Trelawny, but the +squire's elaborate observations allowed her no reprieve. Once or twice +she strove to draw her into the conversation; but a turn of the head, +and a brief answer, more curt than agreeable, was all that rewarded her +efforts. Nevertheless Mildred liked her voice; it had a pleasant +crispness in it, and the abruptness was not unmusical. + +Mildred only saw her full face when she rose to take leave: her figure +was very graceful, but her features could hardly be termed beautiful; +though the dead brown hair, with its waves of ripples, and the large +brilliant eyes, made her a decidedly striking-looking girl. + +Mildred, who was somewhat Quaker-like in her taste, thought the +cream-coloured silk, with its ruby velvet facings, somewhat out of place +in their homely vicarage, though the Rubens hat was wonderfully +picturesque; it seemed less incongruous when Miss Trelawny remarked +casually that they were on their way to a garden-party. + +'Do you like archery? Papa is thinking of getting up a club for the +neighbourhood,' she said, looking at Mildred as she spoke. In spite of +their dark brilliancy there was a sad, wistful look in her eyes that +somehow haunted Mildred. They looked like eyes that were demanding +sympathy from a world that failed to understand them. + +It was not to be expected that Mildred would be prepossessed by Miss +Trelawny in a first visit. Not for weeks, nor for long afterwards, did +she form a true estimate of her visitor, or learn the idiosyncrasies of +a character at once peculiar and original. + +People never understood Ethel Trelawny. There were subtle difficulties +in her nature that baffled and repelled them. 'She was odd,' they said, +'so unusual altogether, and said such queer things;' a few even hinted +that it was possible that a part might sometimes be acted. + +Miss Trelawny was nineteen now, and had passed through two London +seasons with indifferent success, a fact somewhat surprising, as her +attractions certainly were very great. Without being exactly beautiful, +she yet gave an impression of beauty, and certain tints of colour and +warm lights made her at times almost brilliant. In a crowded ballroom +she was always the centre of observation; but one by one her partners +dropped off, displeased and perplexed by the scarifying process to which +they had been subjected. + +'People come to dance and not to think,' observed one young cornet, +turning restive under such treatment, and yet obstinate in his +admiration of Ethel. He had been severely scorched during a previous +dance, but had returned to the charge most gallantly; 'the music is +delicious; do take one more turn with me; there is a clear space now.' + +'Do people ever think; does that man, for example?' returned Ethel, +indicating a tall man before them, who was pulling his blonde moustache +with an expression of satisfied vacuity. 'What sort of dwarfed soul +lives in that six feet or so of human matter?' + +'Miss Trelawny, you are too bad,' burst out her companion with an +expression of honest wrath that showed him not far removed from boyhood. +'That fellow is the bravest and the kindest-hearted in our regiment. He +nursed me, by Jove, that he did, when I was down with fever in the +hunting-box last year. Not think--Robert Drummond not think,' and he +doubled his fist with an energy that soon showed a gash in the faultless +lavender kid glove. + +'I like you all the better for your defence of your friend,' returned +Ethel calmly, and she turned on him a smile so frank and sweet that the +young man was almost dazzled. 'If one cannot think, one should at least +feel. If I give you one turn more, I dare say you will forgive me,' and +from that moment she and Charlie Treherne were firm friends. + +But others were not so fortunate, and retired crestfallen and +humiliated. One of Charlie's brother-officers whom he introduced to +Ethel in a fit of enthusiasm as 'our major, and a man every inch of him, +one of the sort who would do the charge at Balaclava again,' subsided +into sulkiness and total inanity on finding that instead of discussing +Patti and the last opera, Ethel was bent on discovering the ten missing +tribes of Israel. + +'How hot this room is. They don't give us enough ventilation, I think,' +gasped the worthy major at length. + +'I was just thinking it was so cool. You are the third partner I have +had who has complained of the heat. If you are tired of this waltz, let +us sit down in that delightful conservatory;' but as the major, with a +good deal of unnecessary energy, declared he could dance till daybreak +without fatigue, Ethel quietly continued her discourse. + +'I have a theory, I forget from whom I first gathered it, that we shall +be discovered to be the direct descendants of the tribe of Gad. Look +round this room, Major Hartstone, you will find a faint type of Jewish +features on many a face; that girl with the dark _crépé_ hair +especially. I consider we shall play a prominent part in the +millennium.' + +'Millennium--aw; you are too droll, Miss Trelawny. I can see a joke as +well as most people, but you go too deep for me. Fancy what Charlie will +say when I tell him that he belongs to the tribe of Gad--tribe of +Gad--aw--aw--' and as the major, unable to restrain his hilarity any +longer, burst into a fit of hearty laughter, Ethel, deeply offended, +desired him to lead her to her place. + +It was no better in the Row, where Miss Trelawny rode daily with her +father, her beautiful figure and superb horsemanship attracting all +eyes. At first she had quite a little crowd of loungers round her, but +they dispersed by degrees. + +'Do you see that girl--Miss Boville?' asked one in a languid drawl, as +Ethel reined her horse up under a tree, and sat looking dreamily over +the shifting mass of carriages and gaily-dressed pedestrians; 'she is +awfully handsome; don't you think so?' + +'I don't know. I have not thought about it,' she returned, abstractedly; +'the question is, Captain Ellison, has she a beautiful mind?' + +'My dear Miss Trelawny, you positively startle me; you are so unlike +other people. I only know she has caught Medwin and his ten thousand a +year.' + +'Poor thing,' was the answer, leaning over and stroking her horse's neck +thoughtfully. 'Touched--quite touched,' observed the young man, +significantly tapping his forehead, as Ethel rode by--'must be a little +queer, you know, or she would not say such things--sort of craze or +hallucination--do you know if it be in the family?' + +'Nonsense, it is only an ill-arranged mind airing its ideas; she is +delightfully young and fresh,' returned his companion, a clever +barrister, who had the wit to read a girl's vagarisms aright as the +volcanic eruptions of an undisciplined and unsatisfied nature. + +But it would not do; people passed over Ethel for other girls who were +comparatively plain and ordinary, but whose thinking powers were more +under control. One declaration had indeed been made, but it was received +by such sad wonder on Ethel's part, that the young man looked at her in +reproachful confusion. + +'Surely you cannot have mistaken my attentions, Miss Trelawny? As a man +of honour, I thought it right to come to a clear understanding; if I +have ventured to hope too much, I trust you will tell me so.' + +'Do you mean you wish to marry me?' asked Ethel, in a tone of regret and +dismay. + +Arthur Sullivan had been a special favourite with her; he had listened +to her rhapsodies good-humouredly, and had forborne to laugh at them; he +was good-looking too, and possessed of moderate intelligence, and they +had got on very well together during a whole season. It was with a +sensation of real pain that she heard him avow his intentions. + +'There is some mistake. I have never led you to believe that I would +ever be your wife,' she continued, turning pale, and her eyes filling +with tears. + +'No, Miss Trelawny--never,' he answered, hurriedly; 'you are no flirt. +If any one be to blame, it is I, for daring to hope I could win you.' + +'Indeed it is I who do not deserve you,' she returned, sadly; 'but it is +not your fault that you cannot give me what I want. Perhaps I expect too +much; perhaps I hardly know what it is I really do want.' + +'May I wait till you find out?' he asked, earnestly; 'real love is not +to be despised, even though it be accompanied with little wisdom.' + +The white lids dropped heavily over the eyes, and for a moment she made +no answer; only as he rose from her side, and walked up and down in his +agitation, she rose too, hurriedly. + +'It cannot be--I feel it--I know it--you are too good to me, Mr. +Sullivan; and I want something more than goodness--but--but--does my +father know?' + +'Can you doubt it?' + +'Then he will never forgive me for refusing you. Oh, what a hard thing +it is to be a woman, and to wait for one's fate, instead of going out to +seek it. Now I have lost my friend in finding a lover, and my father's +anger will be bitter against me.' + +Ethel was right; in refusing Arthur Sullivan she had refused the +presumptive heir to a baronetcy, and Mr. Trelawny's ambitious soul was +sorely vexed within him. + +'You have never been of any use or comfort to me, Ethel, and you never +will,' he said, harshly; 'just as I was looking to you to redeem +matters, you are throwing away this chance. What was the fault with the +young fellow? you seemed fond enough of him at one time; he is handsome +and gentlemanly enough to please any girl; but it is just one of your +fads.' + +'He is very amiable, but his character wants backbone, papa. When I +marry, my husband must be my master; I have no taste for holding the +reins myself.' + +'When you marry: I wish you would marry, Ethel, for all the comfort you +are to me. If my boys had lived--but what is the use of wishing for +anything?' + +'Papa,' she returned with spirit, 'I cannot help being a girl; it is my +misfortune, not my fault. I wish I could satisfy you better,' she +continued, softly, 'but it seems as though we grow more apart every +day.' + +'It is your own fault,' he returned, morosely. 'Marry Arthur Sullivan, +and I will promise to think better of your sense.' + +'I cannot, papa. I am not going to marry any one,' she answered, in the +suppressed voice he knew so well. And then, as though fearful the +argument might be continued, she quietly left the room. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +KIRKLEATHAM + + 'And on we went; but ere an hour had pass'd, + We reach'd a meadow slanting to the North; + Down which a well-worn pathway courted us + To one green wicket in a privet hedge; + This, yielding, gave into a grassy walk + Through crowded lilac-ambush trimly pruned; + And one warm gust, full-fed with perfume, blew + Beyond us, as we enter'd in the cool. + The garden stretches southward.'--Tennyson. + + +The next few days passed quietly enough. Mildred, who had now assumed +the entire management of the household, soon discovered that Olive's +four months of misrule and shiftlessness had entailed on her an overplus +of work, and, though she was never idle, she soon found that even her +willing hands could hardly perform all the tasks laid on them, and that +scarcely an interval of leisure was available throughout the day. + +'It will not be always so,' she remarked, cheerfully, when Richard took +upon himself to remonstrate with her. 'When I have got things a little +more into order, I mean to have plenty of time to myself. Polly and I +have planned endless excursions to Podgill and the out-wood, to stock +the new fernery Roy is making for us, and I hope to accompany your +father sometimes when he goes to Nateley and Winton.' + +'Nevertheless, I mean to drive you over to Brough to-day. You must come, +Aunt Milly. You are looking pale, Dr. John says, and the air will do you +good. Huddle all those things into the basket,' he continued, in a +peremptory voice that amused Mildred, and, acting on his words, he swept +the neat pile of dusters and tea-cloths that lay beside her into Olive's +unlucky mending-basket, and then faced round on her with his most +persuasive air. 'It is such a delicious day, and you have been working +like a galley-slave ever since you got up this morning,' he said, +apologetically. 'My father would be quite troubled if he knew how hard +you work. Do you know Dr. John threatens to tell him?' + +'Dr. John had better mind his own business,' returned Mildred, +colouring. 'Very well, Richard, you shall have your way as usual; my +head aches rather, and a drive will be refreshing. Perhaps you could +drop me at Kirkleatham on our way home. I must return Miss Trelawny's +visit.' + +Richard assented with alacrity, and then bidding Mildred be ready for +him in ten minutes, he hastened from the room. + +Mildred had noticed a great change in Richard during the last week; he +seemed brighter, and was less carping and disagreeable in his manners to +Olive; and though he still snubbed her at times, there was an evident +desire to preserve harmony in the family circle, which the others were +not slow to appreciate. + +In many little ways he showed Mildred that he was grateful to her for +the added comfort of her presence; any want of regularity and order was +peculiarly trying to him; and now that he was no longer aggravated by +Olive's carelessness and left-handed ways, he could afford even to be +gracious to her, especially as Mildred had succeeded in effecting some +sort of reformation in the offending hair and dress. + +'There, now you look nice, and Cardie will say so,' she said, as she +fastened up the long braids, which now looked bright and glossy, and +then settled the collar, which was as usual somewhat awry, and tied the +black ribbon into a natty bow. 'A little more time and care would not be +wasted, Olive. We have no right to tease other people by our untidy +ways, or to displease their eyes; it is as much an act of selfishness as +of indolence, and may be encouraged until it becomes a positive sin.' + +'Do you think so, Aunt Milly?' + +'I am sure of it. Chrissy thinks me hard on her, but so much depends on +the habits we form when quite young. I believe with many persons +tidiness is an acquired virtue; it requires some sort of education, and +certainly not a little discipline.' + +'But, Aunt Milly, I thought some people were always tidy; from their +childhood, I mean. Chriss and I never were,' she continued, sorrowfully. + +'Some people are methodical by nature; Cardie, for example. They early +see the fitness and beauty of order. But, Olive, for your comfort, I am +sure it is to be acquired.' + +'Not by me, Aunt Milly.' + +'My dear--why not? It is only a question of patience and discipline. If +you made the rule now of never going to a drawer in a hurry. When +Chrissy wants anything, she jerks the contents of the whole drawer on +the floor; I have found her doing it more than once.' + +'She could not find her gloves, and Cardie was waiting,' returned Olive, +always desirous of screening another's fault. + +'Yes; but she left it to you to pick up all the things again. If +Chriss's gloves were in their right place, no one need have been +troubled. I could find my gloves blindfold.' + +'I am always tidying my own and Chrissy's drawers, Aunt Milly; but in a +few days they are as bad as ever,' returned Olive, helplessly. + +'Because you never have time to search quietly for a thing. Did you look +in the glass, Olive, while you were doing your hair this morning?' + +'I don't know. I think so. I was learning my German verses, I believe.' + +'So Cardie had a right to grumble over your crooked parting and unkempt +appearance. You should keep your duties like the contents of your +drawers, neatly piled on the top of each other. No lady can arrange her +hair properly and do German at the same time. Tell me, Olive, you have +not so many headaches since I got your father to forbid your sitting up +so late at night.' + +'No, Aunt Milly; but all the same I wish you and he had not made the +rule; it used to be such a quiet time.' + +'And you learn all the quicker since you have had regular walks with +Polly and Chriss.' + +'I am less tired after my lessons, certainly. I thought that was because +you took away the mending-basket; the stooping made my back ache, +and----' + +'I see,' returned Mildred, with a satisfied smile. + +Olive's muddy complexion was certainly clearer, and there was less +heaviness in her gait, since she had judiciously insisted that the hours +of rest should be kept intact. It had cost Olive some tears, however, +for that quiet time when the household were sleeping round her was very +precious to the careworn girl. + +Richard gave vent to an audible expression of pleasure when he noticed +his sister's altered appearance, and his look of approbation was most +pleasant to Mildred. + +'If you would only hold yourself up, and smile sometimes, you would +really look as well as other people,' was the qualified praise he gave +her. + +'I am glad you are pleased,' returned Olive, simply. 'I never expect you +to admire me, Cardie. I am plainer than any one else, I know.' + +'Yes; but you have nice eyes, and what a quantity of hair,' passing his +hand over the thick coils in which Mildred had arranged it. 'She looks a +different girl, does she not, Aunt Milly?' + +'It is very odd, but I believe Cardie does not dislike me so much +to-day,' Olive said, when she wished her aunt good-night. + +She and Polly took turns every night in coming into Mildred's room with +little offers of service, but in reality to indulge in a cosy chat. It +was characteristic of the girls that they never came together. Olive was +silent and reserved before Polly, and Polly was at times a little +caustic in her wit. 'We mix as badly as oil and water,' she said once. +'I shall always think Olive the most tiresome creature in the world. +Chriss is far more amusing.' + +'Why do you think so?' asked Mildred, gently. She was always gentle with +Olive; these sort of weary natures need much patience and delicacy of +handling, she thought. + +'He speaks more kindly, and he has looked at me several times, not in +his critical way, but as if he were not so much displeased at my +appearance; but, Aunt Milly, it is so odd, his caring, I mean.' + +'Why so, my dear?' + +'If I loved a person very much, I should not care how they looked; they +might be ugly or deformed, but it would make no difference. Cardie's +love seems to vary somehow.' + +'Anything unsightly is very grievous to him, but not in the way you +mean, Olive. He is peculiarly tender over any physical infirmity. I +liked his manner so to little Cathy Villers to-day.' + +'But all the same he attaches too much importance to merely outward +things,' returned Olive, who sometimes showed tenacity in her opinions; +'not that I blame him,' she continued, as though she feared she had been +uncharitable, 'only that it is so odd.' + +Mildred was in a somewhat gladsome mood as she prepared for her drive. +Richard's thoughtfulness pleased her; on the whole things were going +well with her. Under her judicious management, the household had fallen +into more equable and tranquil ways. There were fewer jars, and more +opportunity for Roy's lurking spirit of fun to develop itself. She had +had two or three stormy scenes with Chriss; but the little girl had +already learned to respect the gentle firmness that would not abate one +iota of lawful authority. + +'We are learning our verbs from morning to night,' grumbled Chriss, in a +confidential aside to Roy; 'that horrid one, "to tidy," you know. Aunt +Milly is always in the imperative mood. I declare I am getting sick of +it. Hannah or Rachel used to mend my gloves and things, and now she +insists on my doing it myself. I broke a dozen needles one afternoon to +spite her, but she gave me the thirteenth with the same sweet smile. It +is so tiresome not to be able to provoke people.' + +But even Chrissy was secretly learning to value the kind forbearance +that bore with her wayward fancies, and the skilfulness that helped her +out of many a scrape. Mildred had made the rule that after six o'clock +no lesson-books were to be opened. In the evening they either walked or +drove, or sat on the lawn working, while Richard or Roy read aloud, +Mildred taking the opportunity to overlook her nieces' work, and to +remonstrate over the giant strides that Chriss's needle was accustomed +to take. Even Olive owned these quiet times were very nice, while Mr. +Lambert had once or twice been drawn into the charmed circle, and had +paced the terrace in lieu of the churchyard, irresistibly attracted by +the pleasant spectacle. + +Mildred was doing wonders in her quiet way; she had already gained some +insight into parish matters; she had accompanied her brother in his +house-to-house visitation, and had been much struck by the absence of +anything like distress. Poverty was there, but not hard-griping want. As +a general rule the people were well-to-do, independent, and fairly +respectable. One village had a forlorn and somewhat neglected +appearance; but the generality of Mr. Lambert's parishioners struck +Mildred as far superior to the London poor whom she had visited. + +As yet she had not seen the darker side of the picture; she was shocked +to hear Mr. Lambert speak on future occasions of the tendency to schism, +and the very loose notions of morality that prevailed even among the +better sort of people. The clergy had uphill work, he said. The new +railway had brought a large influx of navvies, and the public-houses +were always full. + +'The commandments are broken just as easily in sight of God's hills as +they are in the crowded and fetid alleys of our metropolis,' he said +once. 'Human nature is the same everywhere, even though it be glossed +over by outward respectability. + +Mildred had already come in contact with the Ortolans more than once, +and had on many occasions seen the green and yellow shawls flitting in +and out of the cottages. + +'They do a great deal of good, and are really very worthy creatures, in +spite of their oddities,' observed Mr. Lambert once. 'They live over at +Hartley. There is a third one, an invalid, Miss Bathsheba, who is very +different from the others, and is, I think, quite a superior person. +When I think of the gallant struggle they have carried on against +trouble and poverty, one is inclined to forgive their little whims: it +takes all sorts of people to make up a world, Mildred.' + +Mildred thoroughly enjoyed her drive. Richard was in one of his +brightest moods, and talked with more animation than usual, and seeing +that his aunt was really interested in learning all about their +surroundings, he insisted on putting up the pony-carriage, and took +Mildred to see the church and the castle. + +The vicarage and churchyard were so pleasantly situated, and the latter +looked so green and shady, that she was disappointed to find the inside +of the church very bare and neglected-looking, while the damp earthy +atmosphere spoke of infrequent services. + +There were urgent need of repairs, and a general shabbiness of detail +that was pitiable: the high wooden pews looked comfortless, ordinary +candles evidently furnished a dim and insufficient light. Mildred felt +quite oppressed as she left the building. + +'There can be no true Church-spirit here, Richard. Fancy worshipping in +that damp, mouldy place; are there no zealous workers here, who care to +beautify their church?' + +Richard shook his head. 'We cannot complain of our want of privileges +after that. I have been speaking to my father, and I really fancy we +shall acquire a regular choir next year, and if so we shall turn out the +Morrisons and Gunnings. My father is over-lenient to people's +prejudices; it grieves him to disturb long-rooted customs.' + +'Where are we going now, Richard?' + +'To Brough Castle; the ruin stands on a little hill just by; it is one +of the celebrated Countess of Pembroke's castles. You know the legend, +Aunt Milly?' + +'No, I cannot say that I do.' + +'She seems to have been a strong-minded person, and was always building +castles. It was prophesied that as long as she went on building she +would not die, and in consequence her rage for castle-building increased +with her age; but at last there was a severe frost, during which no work +could be carried on, and so the poor countess died.' + +'What a lovely view there is from here, Richard.' + +'Yes, that long level of green to our left is where the celebrated +Brough fair is held. The country people use it as a date, "last Brough +Hill," as they say--the word "Brough" comes from "Brugh," a +fortification. My father has written a very clever paper on the origin +of the names of places; it is really very interesting.' + +'Some of the names are so quaint--"Smardale," for example.' + +'Let me see, that has a Danish termination, and means +Butter-dale--"dale" from "dal," a valley; Garsdale, grass-dale; +Sleddale, from "slet," plain, the open level plain or dale, and so on. I +recollect my father told us that "Kirkby," on the contrary, is always of +Christian origin, as "Kirkby Stephen," and "Kirkby Kendal;" but perhaps +you are not fond of etymology, Aunt Milly.' + +'On the contrary, it is rather a favourite study of mine; go on, +Richard. I want to know how Kirkby Stephen got its name.' + +'I must quote my father again, then. He thinks the victorious Danes +found a kirk with houses near it, and called the place Kirkby, and they +afterwards learnt that the church was dedicated to St. Stephen, the +proto-martyr, and then added his name to distinguish it from the other +Kirkbys.' + +'It must have been rather a different church, Richard.' + +'I see I must go on quoting. He says, "We can almost picture to +ourselves that low, narrow, quaint old church, with its rude walls and +thatched roof." But, Aunt Milly, we must be thinking of returning, if we +are to call on the Trelawnys. By the bye, what do you think of them?' + +'Of Mr. Trelawny, you mean, for I certainly did not exchange three words +with his daughter.' + +'I noticed she was very silent; she generally is when he is present. +What a pity it is they do not understand each other better.' + +He seemed waiting for her to speak, but Mildred, who was taking a last +lingering look at the ruin, was slow to respond. + +'He seems very masterful,' she said at last when they had entered the +pony-carriage, and were driving homewards. + +'Yes, and what is worse, so narrow in his views. He is very kind to me, +and I get on with him tolerably well,' continued Richard, modestly; 'but +I can understand the repressing influence under which she lives.' + +'It seems so strange for a father not to understand his daughter.' + +'I believe he is fond of her in his own way; he can hardly help being +proud of her. You see, he lost his two boys when they were lads in a +dreadful way; they were both drowned in bathing, and he has never got +over their loss; it is really very hard for him, especially as his wife +died not very long afterwards. They say the shock killed her.' + +'Poor man, he has known no ordinary trouble. I can understand how lonely +it must be for her.' + +'Yes, it is all the worse that she does not care for the people about +here. With the exception of us and the Delawares, she has no friends--no +intimate friends, I mean.' + +'Her exclusiveness is to blame, then; our neighbours seem really very +kind-hearted.' + +'Yes, but they are not her sort. I think you like the Delawares +yourself, Aunt Milly?' + +'Very much. I was just going to ask you more about them. Mrs. Delaware +is very nice, but it struck me that she is not equal to her husband.' + +'No; he is a fine fellow. You see, she was only a yeoman's daughter, and +he educated her to be his wife.' + +'That accounts for her homely speech.' + +'My father married them. She was a perfect little rustic beauty, he +says. She ran away from school twice, and at last told Mr. Delaware that +he might marry her or not as he pleased, but she would have no more of +the schooling; if she were not nice enough for him, she was for Farmer +Morrison of Wharton Hall, and of course that decided the question.' + +'I hope she makes him a good wife.' + +'Very, and he is exceedingly fond of her, though she makes him uneasy at +times. Her connections are not very desirable, and she can never be made +to understand that they are to be kept in the background. I have seen +him sit on thorns during a whole evening, looking utterly wretched, +while she dragged in Uncle Greyson and Brother Ben every other moment.' + +'I wish she would dress more quietly; she looks very unlike a +clergyman's wife.' + +Richard smiled. 'Miss Trelawny is very fond of driving over to Warcop +Vicarage. She enjoys talking to Mr. Delaware, but I have noticed his +wife looks a little sad at not being able to join in their conversation; +possibly she regrets the schooling;' but here Richard's attention was +diverted by a drove of oxen, and as soon as the road was clear he had +started a new topic, which lasted till they reached their destination. + +Kirkleatham was a large red castellated building built on a slight +eminence, and delightfully situated, belted in with green meadows, and +commanding lovely views of soft distances; that from the terrace in +front of the house was especially beautiful, the church and town of +Kirkby Stephen distinctly visible, and the grouping of the dark hills at +once varied and full of loveliness. + +As they drove through the shrubbery Richard had a glimpse of a white +dress and a broad-brimmed hat, and stopping the pony-carriage, he +assisted Mildred to alight. + +'Here is Miss Trelawny, sitting under her favourite tree; you had better +go to her, Aunt Milly, while I find some one to take the mare;' and as +Mildred obeyed, Miss Trelawny laid down her book, and greeted her with +greater cordiality than she had shown on the previous visit. + +'Papa is somewhere about the grounds; you can find him,' she said when +Richard came up to them, and as he departed somewhat reluctantly, she +led Mildred to a shady corner of the lawn, where some basket-chairs, and +a round table strewn with work and books, made up a scene of rustic +comfort. + +The blue curling smoke rose from the distant town into the clear +afternoon air, the sun shone on the old church tower, the hills lay in +soft violet shadow. + +'I hope you admire our view?' asked Miss Trelawny, with her full, steady +glance at Mildred; and again Mildred noticed the peculiar softness, as +well as brilliancy, of her eyes. 'I think it is even more beautiful than +that which you see from the vicarage windows. Mr. Lambert and I have +often had a dispute on that subject.' + +'But you have not the river--that gives such a charm to ours. I would +not exchange those snatches of silvery brightness for your greater +distances. What happiness beautiful scenery affords! hopeless misery +seems quite incompatible with those ranges of softly-tinted hills.' + +A pensive--almost a melancholy--look crossed Miss Trelawny's face. + +'The worst of it is, that our moods and Nature's do not always +harmonise; sometimes the sunshine has a chilling brightness when we are +not exactly attuned to it. One must be really susceptible--in fact, an +artist--if one could find happiness in the mere circumstance of living +in a beautiful district like ours.' + +'I hope you do not undervalue your privileges,' returned Mildred, +smiling. + +'No, I am never weary of expatiating on them; but all the same, one asks +a little more of life.' + +'In what way?' + +'In every possible way,' arching her brows, with a sort +of impatience. 'What do rational human beings generally +require?--work--fellowship--possible sympathy.' + +'All of which are to be had for the asking. Nay, my dear Miss Trelawny,' +as Ethel's slight shrug of the shoulders testified her dissent, 'where +human beings are more or less congregated, there can be no lack of +these.' + +'They may possibly differ in the meaning we attach to our words. I am +not speaking of the labour market, which is already glutted.' + +'Nor I.' + +'The question is,' continued the young philosopher, wearily, 'of what +possible use are nine-tenths of the unmarried women? half of them marry +to escape from the unbearable routine and vacuum of their lives.' + +Ethel spoke with such mournful candour, that Mildred's first feeling of +astonishment changed into pity--so young and yet so cynical--and with +such marginal wastes of unfulfilled purpose. + +'When there is so much trouble and faultiness in the world,' she +answered, 'there must be surely work enough to satisfy the most hungry +nature. Have you not heard it asserted, Miss Trelawny, that nature +abhors a vacuum?' + +To her surprise, a shade crossed Miss Trelawny's face. + +'You talk so like our village Mentor, that I could almost fancy I were +listening to him. Are there no duties but the seven corporal works of +mercy, Miss Lambert? Is the intellect to play no part in the bitter +comedy of women's lives?' + +'You would prefer tragedy?' questioned Mildred, with a slight twitching +of the corner of her mouth. It was too absurdly incongruous to hear this +girl, radiant with health, and glorying in her youth, speaking of the +bitter comedy of life. Mildred began to accuse her in her own mind of +unreal sentiment, and the vaporous utterings of girlish spleen; but +Ethel's intense earnestness disarmed her of this suspicion. + +'I have no respect for the people; they are utterly brutish and +incapable of elevation. I am horrifying you, Miss Lambert, but indeed I +am not speaking without proof. At one time I took great interest in the +parish, and used to hold mothers' meetings--pleasant evenings for the +women. I used to give them tea, and let them bring their needlework, on +condition they listened to my reading. Mr. Lambert approved of my plan; +he only stipulated that as I was so very young--in age, I suppose, he +meant--that Miss Prissy Ortolan should assist me.' + +'And it was an excellent idea,' returned Mildred, warmly. + +'Yes, but it proved an utter failure,' sighed Ethel. 'The women liked +the tea, and I believe they got through a great deal of needlework, only +Miss Prissy saw after that; but they cared no more for the reading than +Minto would,' stooping down to pat the head of a large black retriever +that lay at her feet. 'I had planned a course of progressive +instruction, that should combine information with amusement; but I found +they preferred their own gossip. I asked one woman, who looked more +intelligent than the others, how she had liked Jean Ingelow's beautiful +poem, "Two Brothers and a Sermon," which I had thought simple enough to +suit even their comprehensions, and she replied, "Eh, it was fine drowsy +stuff, and would rock off half-a-dozen crying babies."' + +Mildred smiled. + +'I gave it up after that. I believe Miss Tabitha and Miss Prissy manage +it. They read little tracts to them, and the women do not talk half so +much; but it's very disheartening to think one's theory had failed.' + +'You soared a little beyond them, you see.' + +'I suppose so; but I thought their life was prosaic enough; but here +comes my father and Richard. I see they have Dr. Heriot with them.' + +Ethel spoke quietly, but Mildred thought there was a slight change in +her manner, which became less animated. + +Dr. Heriot looked both surprised and pleased when he saw Mildred; he +placed himself beside her, and listened with great interest to the +account of their afternoon's drive. On this occasion, Mildred's quiet +fluency did not desert her. + +Mr. Trelawny was less stiff and ceremonious in his own house; he +insisted, with old-fashioned politeness, that they should remain for +some refreshment, and he himself conducted Mildred to the top of the +tower, from which there was an extensive view. + +On their return, they found a charming little tea-table set out under +the trees; and Ethel, in her white gown, with pink May blossoms in her +hair, was crossing the lawn with Richard. Dr. Heriot was still lounging +complacently in his basket-chair. + +Ethel made a charming hostess; but she spoke very little to any one but +Richard, who hovered near her, with a happy boyish-looking face. Mildred +had never seen him to such advantage; he looked years younger, when the +grave restraint of his manners relaxed a little; and she was struck by +the unusual softness of his dark eyes. In his best moods, Richard was +undoubtedly attractive in the presence of elder men. He showed a modest +deference to their opinions, and at the same time displayed such +intelligence, that Mildred felt secretly proud of him. He was evidently +a great favourite with Mr. Trelawny and his daughter. Ethel constantly +appealed to him, and the squire scolded him for coming so seldom. + +The hour was a pleasant one, and Mildred thoroughly enjoyed it. Just as +they were dispersing, and the pony-carriage was coming round, Dr. Heriot +approached Ethel. + +'Well, have you been to see poor Jessie?' he asked, a little anxiously. + +Miss Trelawny shook her head. + +'You know I never promised,' she returned, as though trying to defend +herself. + +'I never think it fair to extort promises--people's better moods so +rapidly pass away. If you remember, I only advised you to do so. I +thought it would do you both good.' + +'You need not rank us in the same category,' she returned, proudly; 'you +are such a leveller of classes, Dr. Heriot.' + +'Forgive me, but when you reach Jessie's standard of excellence, I would +willingly do so. Jessie is a living proof of my theory--that we are all +equal--and the education and refinement on which you lay such stress are +only adventitious adjuncts to our circumstances. In one sense--we are +old friends, Miss Trelawny; and I may speak plainly, I know--I consider +Jessie greatly your superior.' + +A quick sensitive colour rose to Ethel's face. They were walking through +the shrubbery; and for a moment she turned her long neck aside, as +though to hide her pained look; but she answered, calmly-- + +'We differ so completely in our estimates of things; I am quite aware +how high I stand in Dr. Heriot's opinion.' + +'Are you sure of that?' answering her with the sort of amused gentleness +with which one would censure a child. 'I am apt to keep my thoughts to +myself, and am not quite so easy to read as you are, Miss Trelawny. So +you will not go and see my favourite Jessie?' with a persuasive smile. + +'No,' she said, colouring high; 'I am not in the mood for it.' + +'Then we will say no more about it; and my remedy has failed.' But +though he talked pleasantly to her for the remainder of the way, Mildred +noticed he had his grave look, and that Ethel failed to rally her +spirits. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE RUSH-BEARING + + 'Heigho! daises and buttercups, + Fair yellow daffodils, stately and tall, + A sunshiny world full of laughter and leisure, + And fresh hearts unconscious of sorrow and thrall! + Send down on their pleasure smiles passing its measure, + God that is over us all.'--Jean Ingelow. + + +Mildred soon became accustomed to Dr. Heriot's constant presence about +the house, and the slight restraint she had at first felt rapidly wore +off. + +She soon looked upon it as a matter of course to see him at least three +evenings in the week; loneliness was not to his taste, and in +consequence, when he was not otherwise engaged, he generally shared +their evening meal at the vicarage, and remained an hour afterwards, +talking to Mr. Lambert or Richard. Mildred ceased to start with surprise +at finding him in the early morning turning over the books in her +brother's study, or helping Polly and Chriss in their new fernery. Polly +was made happy by frequent invitations to her guardian's house, where +she soon made herself at home, coming back to Mildred with delightful +accounts of how her guardian had allowed her to dust his books and mend +his gloves; and how he had approved of the French coffee she had made +him. + +One afternoon Chriss and she had been in the kitchen, concocting all +sorts of delicious messes, which Dr. Heriot, Cardie, and Roy were +expected to eat afterwards. + +Dr. Heriot gave an amusingly graphic account of the feast afterwards to +Mildred, and his old housekeeper's astonishment at 'them nasty and +Frenchified dishes.' + +Polly had carried in the omelette herself, and placed it with a flushed, +triumphant face before him, her dimpled elbows still whitened with +flour; the dishes were all charmingly garlanded with flowers and +leaves--tiny breast-knots of geranium and heliotrope lay beside each +plate. Polly had fastened a great cream-coloured rose into Olive's +drooping braids, which she wore reluctantly. + +'I wish you could have seen it all, Miss Lambert; it was the prettiest +thing possible; they had transformed my bachelor's den into a perfect +bower. Roy must have helped them, and given some of his artistic +touches. There were great trailing sprays of ivy, and fern-fronds in my +terra-cotta vases, and baskets of wild roses and ox-eyed daisies; never +was my _fźte_ day so charmingly inaugurated before. The worst of it was +that Polly expected me to taste all her dishes in succession; and Chriss +insisted on my eating a large slice of the frosted cake.' + +Mildred was not present at Dr. Heriot's birthday party; she had +preferred staying with her brother, but she found he had not forgotten +her; the guests were surprised in their turn by finding a handsome gift +beside each plate, a print that Roy had long coveted, Trench on +_Parables_ for Richard, Schiller's works for Olive, a neat little +writing-desk for Polly, and a silk-lined work-basket for Chriss, who +coloured and looked uncomfortable over the gift. Polly had orders to +carry a beautiful book on Ferns to Aunt Milly, and a slice of the +iced-cake with Dr. Heriot's compliments, and regrets that she had not +tasted the omelette--a message that Polly delivered with the utmost +solemnity. + +'Oh, it was so nice, Aunt Milly; Dr. Heriot is so good and indulgent. I +think he is the best man living--just to please us he let us serve up +the coffee in those beautiful cups without handles, that he values so, +and that have cost I don't know how much money; and Olive dropped hers +because she said it burnt her fingers, and broke it all to fragments. +Livy looked ready to cry, but Dr. Heriot only laughed, and would not let +Cardie scold her.' + +'That was kind of Dr. Heriot.' + +'He is never anything but kind. I am sure some of the things disagreed +with him, but he would taste them all; and then afterwards--oh, Aunt +Milly, it was so nice--we sang glees in the twilight, and when it got +quite dark, he told us a splendid ghost-story--only it turned out a +dream--which spoilt it rather; and laughed at Chrissy and me because we +looked a little pale when the lamp came in. I am sure Richard enjoyed it +as well as us, for he rubbed his hands and said, "Excellent," when he +had finished.' + +Mildred looked at her book when the girls had retired, fairly wearied +with chattering. It was just what she had wanted. How thoughtful of Dr. +Heriot. Her name was written in full; and for the first time she had a +chance of criticising the bold, clear handwriting. 'From a family +friend--John Heriot,' was written just underneath. After all, had it not +been a little churlish of her to refuse going with the children? The +evening had gone very heavily with her; her brother had been in one of +his taciturn moods and had retired to his room early; and finding the +house empty, and somewhat desolate, she had betaken herself to the +moonlighted paths of the churchyard, and had more than once wished she +could peep in unseen on the party. + +It was not long afterwards that Mildred was induced to partake of Dr. +Heriot's hospitality. + +It was the day before the Castlesteads Rush-bearing. Mildred was in the +town with Olive and Polly, when, just as they were turning the corner by +the King's Arms, a heavy shower came on; and Dr. Heriot, who was +entering his own door, beckoned to them to run across and take shelter. + +Dr. Heriot's house stood in a secluded corner of the market-place, +behind the King's Arms; the bank was on the left-hand side, and from the +front windows there was a good view of the market-place, the town pump, +and butter market, and the quaint, old-fashioned shops. + +The shops of Kirkby Stephen drove a brisk trade, in spite of the sleepy +air that pervaded them, and the curious intermixture of goods that they +patronised. + +The confectioner's was also a china shop, and there was a millinery room +upstairs, while the last new music was only procurable at the tin shop. +Jams and groceries could be procured at the druggist's, while the +fashionable milliner of the town was also the postmistress. On certain +days the dull little butcher's shop, with its picturesque gable and +overhanging balcony, was guileless of anything but its chopping-blocks, +and perhaps the half-carcase of a sheep; beef was not always to be had +for the asking, a fact which London housekeepers were slow to +understand. + +On Mondays the town wore a more thriving appearance; huge wagons blocked +up the market-place, stalls containing all sorts of wares occupied the +central area, the countrywomen sold chickens and eggs, and tempting +rolls of fresh butter, the gentlemen farmers congregated round the +King's Arms; towards afternoon, horse-dealers tried their horses' paces +up and down the long street, while the village curs made themselves +conspicuous barking at their heels. + +'I hope you will always make use of me in this way,' said Dr. Heriot, as +he shook Mildred's wet cloak, and ushered them into the hall; 'the rain +has damped you already, but I hope it is only a passing shower for the +little rush-bearers' sakes to-morrow.' + +'The barometer points to fair,' observed Polly, anxiously. + +'Yes, and this shower will do all the good in the world, lay the dust, +and render your long drive enjoyable. Ah! Miss Lambert, you have found +out why Olive honours me by so many visits,' as Mildred glanced round +the large handsome hall, fitted up by glass bookcases; and with its +carpeted floor and round table, and brackets of blue dragon china +looking thoroughly comfortable. + +'This is my dining-room and consulting-room; my surgery is elsewhere,' +continued Dr. Heriot. 'My drawing-room is so little used, that I am +afraid Marjory often forgets to draw up the blinds.' And he showed +Mildred the low-ceiled pleasant rooms, well-furnished, and tastefully +arranged; but the drawing-room having the bare disused air of a room +that a woman's footstep seldom enters. Mildred longed to droop the +curtain into less stiff folds, and to fill the empty vases with flowers. + +Polly spoke out her thought immediately afterwards. + +'I mean to come in every morning on my way to school, and pull up the +blinds, and fill that china bowl with roses. Marjory won't mind anything +I do.' + +'Your labour will be wasted, Polly,' returned her guardian, rather +sadly. 'No one but Mrs. Sadler, or Miss Ortolan, or perhaps Mrs. +Northcote, ever sits on that yellow couch. Your roses would waste their +sweetness on the desert air; no one would look at them, or smell them; +but it is a kind thought, little one,' with a gentle, approving smile. + +'Which room was the scene of Polly's feast?' asked Mildred, curiously. + +'Oh, the den--I mean the room I generally inhabit; it is snug, and opens +into the conservatory; and I have grown to like it somehow. Now, Polly, +you must make us some tea; but the question is, will you favour the +yellow couch and the empty rose-bowls, Miss Lambert, or do you prefer +the dining-room?' + +'Dr. Heriot, what do you mean by treating Aunt Milly so stiffly? of +course we shall have tea in the den, as usual.' But he interrupted her +by a brief whisper in her ear, which made her laugh and clap her hands. +Evidently there was some delightful secret between them, for Polly's +eyes sparkled as she stood holding his arm with both hands; and even Dr. +Heriot's twinkled with amusement. + +'Miss Lambert, Polly wants to know if you can keep a secret? I don't +think you look dangerous, so you shall be shown the mystery of the den.' + +'Does Olive know?' asked Mildred, looking at the girl as she sat +hunching her shoulders, as usual, over a book. + +'Yes, but she does not approve. Olive never approves of anything nice,' +returned Polly, saucily. 'Let us go very quietly; he generally whistles +so loudly that he never hears anything;' and as Polly softly opened the +door, very clear, sweet whistling was distinctly audible. + +There was a little glass-house beyond the cosy room they were entering; +and there, amongst flowers and canaries, and gaily-striped awning, in +his old blue cricketing coat, was Roy painting. + +Dr. Heriot beckoned Mildred to come nearer, and she had ample leisure to +admire the warm sunshiny tints of a small landscape, to which he was +putting finishing touches, until the melodious whistling ceased, and an +exclamation of delight from Polly made him turn round. + +'Aunt Milly, this is too bad; you have stolen a march on me;' and Roy's +fair face was suffused for a moment. 'I owe Dr. John a grudge for this,' +threatening him with his palette and brush. + +Polly could not resist the pleasure of showing her aunt the mysteries of +Bluebeard's den. 'When you miss your boy, you will know where to find +him in future, Miss Lambert.' + +'Roy, dear, you must not be vexed. I had no idea Polly's secret had +anything to do with you,' said Mildred, gently. 'Dr. Heriot is very good +to allow you to make use of this pleasant studio.' + +Roy's brow cleared like magic. + +'I am glad you think so. I was only afraid you would talk nonsense, as +Livy does, about waste of time, and hiding talents under a bushel. +Holloa, Livy, I did not know you were there; no offence intended; but +you do talk an awful quantity of rubbish sometimes.' + +'I only said it was a pity you did not tell papa about it; your being an +artist, I mean,' answered Olive, mildly; but Roy interrupted her +impatiently. + +'You know I cannot bear disappointing him, but of course it has to be +told. Aunt Milly, do you think my father would ask Dad Fabian down to +see Polly? I should so like to have a talk with him. You see, Dr. John +is only an amateur; he cannot tell me if I am ever likely to be an +artist,' finished Roy, a little despondingly. + +'I am not much of a critic, but I like your picture, Roy; it looks so +fresh and sunny. I could almost feel as though I were sitting down on +that mossy bank; and that little girl in her red cloak is charming.' + +Roy coloured bashfully over the praise. + +'I tell him that with his few advantages he does wonders; he has only +picked up desultory lessons here and there,' observed Dr. Heriot. + +'That old fellow at Sedbergh taught me to grind colours, and I fell in +with an artist at York once. I don't mind you knowing a bit, Aunt Milly; +only'--lowering his voice so as not to be heard by the others--'I want +to get an opinion worth having, and be sure I am not only the dabbler +Dick thinks me, before I bother the Padre about it; but I shall do no +good at anything else, let Dick say what he will;' a touch of defiance +and hopelessness in his voice, very different from his ordinary saucy +manners. Evidently Roy was in earnest for once in his life. + +'You are quite right, Roy; it is the most beautiful life in the world,' +broke in Polly, enthusiastically. 'It is nobler to try at that and fail, +than to be the most successful lawyer in the world.' + +'The gentlemen of the robe would thank you, Polly. Do you know, I have a +great respect for a learned barrister.' + +'All that Polly knows about them is, they wear a wig and carry a blue +bag,' observed Roy, with one of his odd chuckles. + +'What a Bohemian you are, Polly.' + +'I like what is best and brightest and most loveable in life,' returned +Polly, undauntedly. 'I think you are an artist by nature, because you +care so much for beautiful scenery, and are so quick to see different +shades and tints of colouring. Dad Fabian is older, and grander, +far--but you talk a little like him, Roy; your words have the same ring, +somehow.' + +'Polly is a devout believer in Roy's capabilities,' observed Dr. Heriot, +half-seriously and half-laughing. 'You are fortunate, Roy, to have +inspired so much faith already; it must warm up your landscapes and +brighten your horizons for you. After all, there is nothing like +sympathy in this world,' with a scarcely audible sigh. + +'Dr. Heriot, tea is ready,' broke in Polly, with one of her quick +transitions from enthusiasm to matter-of-fact reality, as she moved as +though by right to her place at the head of the table, and looked as +though she expected her guardian to seat himself as usual beside her; +while Dr. Heriot drew up a comfortable rocking-chair for Mildred. +Certainly the den presented a cheerful aspect to-night; the little +glass-house, as Dr. Heriot generally termed it, with its easel and +flowers, and its pleasant glimpse of the narrow garden and blue hills +behind, looked picturesque in the afternoon light; the rain had ceased, +the canaries burst into loud song, there was a delicious fragrance of +verbena and heliotrope; Roy stretched his lazy length on the little red +couch, his fair head in marked contrast with Mildred's brown coils; a +great crimson-hearted rose lay beside her plate. + +Dr. Heriot's den certainly lacked no visible comfort; there were +easy-chairs for lounging, small bookcases filled with favourite books, a +writing-table, and a marble stand, with a silver reading-lamp, that gave +the softest possible light; one or two choice prints enlivened the +walls. Dr. Heriot evidently kept up a luxurious bachelor's life, for the +table was covered with good things; and Mildred ventured to praise the +excellent Westmorland cakes. + +'Marjory makes better girdle-cakes than Nan,' observed Polly. 'Do you +know what my guardian calls them, Aunt Milly?' + +'You should allow Miss Lambert to finish hers first,' remonstrated Dr. +Heriot. + +'He calls them "sudden deaths."' + +'Miss Lambert is looking quite pale, and laying down hers. I must help +myself to some to reassure her;' and Dr. Heriot suited his action to his +words. 'I perfectly scandalise Marjory by telling her they are very +unwholesome, but she only says, "Hod tongue o' ye, doctor; t' kyuks are +au weel enuff; en'ill hurt nin o' ye, if y'ill tak 'em i' moderation."' + +'I think Marjory is much of a muchness with Nan in point of obstinacy.' + +'Nan's habits bewilder me,' observed Mildred. 'She eats so little flesh +meat, as she calls it; and whatever time I go into the kitchen, she +seems perpetually at tea.' + +'Ay, four o'clock tea is the great meal of the day; the servants +certainly care very little for meat here. I am often surprised, when I +go into the cottages, to see the number of cakes just freshly baked; it +is the most tempting meal they have. The girdle-cakes, and the little +black teapot on the hob, and not unfrequently a great pile of brown +toast, have often struck me as so appetising after a cold, wet ride, +that I have often shared a bit and a sup with them. Have you ever heard +of Kendal wigs, Miss Lambert?' + +Mildred shook her head. + +'They are very favourite cakes. Many a farmer's wife on a market-day +thinks her purchases incomplete without bringing home a goodly quantity +of wigs. I am rather fond of them myself. All my oat-bread, or +havre-bread as they call it, is sent me by an old patient who lives at +Kendal. Do you know there is a quaint proverb, very much used here, "as +crafty as a Kendal fox"?' + +'What is the origin of that?' asked Mildred, much amused. + +'Well, it is doubtful. It may owe its origin to some sly old Reynard who +in days long since "escaped the hunter many times and oft;" or it might +possibly originate in some family of the name of Fox living at Kendal, +and noted for their business habits and prudence. There are two proverbs +peculiar to this country.' + +'You mean the Pendragon one,' observed Roy. + +'Yes.' + + 'Let Uter Pendragon do what he can, + Eden will run where Eden ran.' + +'You look mystified, Miss Lambert; but at Pendragon Castle in +Mallerstang there may still be seen traces of an attempt to turn the +waters of Eden from their natural and wonted channel, and cause them to +flow round the castle and fill the moat.' + +'How curious!' + +'Proverbs have been rightly defined "as the wisdom of the many and the +wit of one." In one particular I believe this saying has a deep truth +hidden in it. One who has studied the Westmorland character, says that +its meaning is, that the people living on the banks of the Eden are as +firm and persevering in their own way as the river itself; and that when +they have once made up their minds as to what is their duty, all +attempts to turn them aside from walking in the right way and doing +their duty are equally futile.' + +'Hurrah for the Edenites!' exclaimed Roy, enthusiastically. 'I don't +believe there is a county in England to beat Westmorland.' + +'I must tell you what a quaint old writer says of it. "Here is cold +comfort from nature," he writes, "but somewhat of warmth from industry: +that the land is barren is God's good pleasure; the people painful +(_i.e._ painstaking), their praise." But I am afraid I must not +enlighten your minds any more on proverbial philosophy, as it is time +for me to set off on my evening round. A doctor can use scant ceremony, +Miss Lambert.' + +'It is time you dismissed us,' returned Mildred, rising; 'we have +trespassed too long on your time already;' but, in spite of her efforts, +she failed to collect her party. Only Olive accompanied her home. Roy +returned to his painting and whistling, and Polly stayed behind to water +the flowers and keep him company. + +The next day proved fine and cloudless, and at the appointed time the +old vicarage wagonette started off, with its bevy of boys and girls, +with Mildred to act as _chaperone_. + +Mildred was loath to leave her brother alone for so long a day, but Dr. +Heriot promised to look in on him, and bring her a report in the +afternoon. + +The drive to Castlesteads was a long one, but Roy was in one of his +absurd moods, and Polly and he kept up a lively exchange of _repartee_ +and jest, which amused the rest of the party. On their way they passed +Musgrave, the church and vicarage lying pleasantly in the green meadows, +on the very banks of the Eden; but Roy snorted contemptuously over +Mildred's admiring exclamation-- + +'It looks very pretty from this distance, and would make a tolerable +picture; and I don't deny the walk by the river-bank is pleasant enough +in summer-time, but you would be sorry to live there all the year round, +Aunt Milly.' + +'Is the vicarage so comfortless, then?' + +'Vicarage! It is little better than a cottage. It is positively bare, +and mean, miserable little wainscoted rooms looking on a garden full of +currant-bushes and London-pride. In winter the river floods the meadows, +and comes up to the sitting-room window; just a place for rheumatism and +agues and low fevers. I wonder Mr. Wigram can endure it!' + +'There are the Northcotes overtaking us, Cardie,' interrupted Chriss, +eagerly; 'give the browns a touch-up; I don't want them to pass us.' + +Richard did as he was requested, and the browns evidently resenting the +liberty, there was soon a good distance between the two wagonettes; and +shortly afterwards the pretty little village of Castlesteads came in +sight, with its beeches and white cottages and tall May-pole. + +'There is no time to be lost, Cardie. I can hear the band already. We +must make straight for the park.' + +'We had better get down and walk, then, while George sees to the horses, +or we shall lose the procession. Come, Aunt Milly, we are a little late, +I am afraid; and we must introduce you to Mrs. Chesterton of the Hall in +due form.' + +Mildred obeyed, and the little party hurried along the road, where knots +of gaily-dressed people were already stationed to catch the first +glimpse of the rush-bearers. The park gates were wide open, and a group +of ladies, with a tolerable sprinkling of gentlemen, were gathered under +the shady trees. + +Mr. Delaware came striding across the grass in his cassock, with his +college cap in his hand. + +'You are only just in time,' he observed, shaking hands cordially with +Mildred; 'the children are turning the corner by the schools. I must go +and meet them. Susie, will you introduce Miss Lambert to these ladies?' + +Mrs. Chesterton of the Hall was a large, placid-looking woman, with a +motherly, benevolent face; she was talking to a younger lady, in very +fashionable attire, whom Mrs. Delaware whispered was Mrs. de Courcy, of +the Grange: her husband, Major de Courcy, was at a little distance, with +Mr. Chesterton and the Trelawnys. + +Mildred had just time to bow to Ethel, when the loud, inspiriting blare +of brazen instruments was heard outside the park gates. There was a +burst of joyous music, and a faint sound of cheering, and then came the +procession of children, with their white frocks and triumphant crowns. + +The real garland used for the rush-bearing is of the shape of the old +coronation crowns, and was formerly so large that it was borne by each +child on a cushion; and even at the present time it was too weighty an +ornament to be worn with comfort. + +One little maiden had recourse to her mother's support, and many a +little hand went up to steady the uneasy diadem. + +Mildred, who had never seen such a sight, was struck with the beauty and +variety of the crowns. Some were of brilliant scarlet and white, such as +covered May Chesterton's fair curls; others were of softer violet. One +was of beautifully-shaped roses; and another and humbler one of +heliotrope and large-eyed pansies. Even the cottage garlands were woven +with taste and fancy. One of the poorest children, gleaning in lanes and +fields, had formed her crown wholly of buttercups and ox-eyed daisies, +and wore it proudly. + +A lame boy, who had joined the procession, carried his garland in the +shape of a large cross, which he held aloft. Mildred watched the bright +colours of moving flowers through the trees, and listened to the music +half-dreamily, until Richard touched her arms. + +'Every one is following the procession. You will lose the prettiest part +of the whole, if you stand here, Aunt Milly; the children always have a +dance before they go into church.' And so saying, he piloted her through +the green park in the direction of the crowd. + +By and by, they came to a little strip of lawn, pleasantly shaded by +trees, and here they found the rush-bearers drawn up in line, with the +crowns at their feet; the sun was shining, the butterflies flitted over +the children's heads, the music struck up gaily, the garlands lay in +purple and crimson splashes of colour on the green sward. + +'Wouldn't it make a famous picture?' whispered Roy, eagerly. 'I should +like to paint it, and send it to the Royal Academy--"The Westmorland +Rush-bearing." Doesn't May look a perfect fairy in her white dress, with +her curls falling over her neck? That rogue of a Claude has chosen her +for his partner. There, they are going to have lemonade and cake, and +then they will "trip on the light, fantastic toe," till the church bells +ring;' but Mildred was too much absorbed to answer. The play of light +and shadow, the shifting colours, the children's innocent faces and +joyous laughter, the gaping rustics on the outside of the circle, +charmed and interested her. She was sorry when the picture was broken +up, and Mr. Delaware and the other clergy formed the children into an +orderly procession again. + +Mildred and Richard were the last to enter the church, but Miss Trelawny +made room for them beside her. The pretty little church was densely +crowded, and there was quite an inspiring array of clergy and choristers +when the processional hymn was sung. Mr. Delaware gave an appropriate +and very eloquent address, and during a pause in the service the +church-wardens collected the garlands from the children, which were +placed by the officiating priest and the assistant clergy on the +altar-steps, or on the sloping sills of the chancel windows, or even on +the floor of the sanctuary itself, the sunshine lighting up with vivid +hues the many-coloured crowns. + +These were left until the following day, when they were placed on a +frame made for the purpose at the other end of the church, and there +they hung until the next rush-bearing day; the brown drooping leaves and +faded flowers bearing solemn witness of the mutability and decay of all +earthly things. + +But as Mildred looked at the altar-steps, crowded with the fragrant and +innocent offerings of the children, so solemnly blessed and accepted, +and heard the fresh young voices lifted up in the crowning hymn of +praise, there came to her remembrance some lines she had heard sung in +an old city church, when the broidered bags, full of rich offerings, had +been laid on the altar:-- + + 'Holy offerings rich and rare, + Offerings of praise and prayer, + Purer life and purpose high, + Clasped hands and lifted eye, + Lowly acts of adoration + To the God of our salvation. + On His altar laid we leave them, + Christ present them! God receive them!' + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +AN AFTERNOON IN CASTLESTEADS + + 'The fields were all i' vapour veil'd + Till, while the warm, breet rays assail'd, + Up fled the leet, grey mist. + The flowers expanded one by one, + As fast as the refreshing sun + Their dewy faces kiss'd. + + * * * * * + + 'And pleasure danced i' mony an e'e + An' mony a heart, wi' mirth and glee + Thus flutter'd and excited-- + An' this was t' cause, ye'll understand + Some friends a grand picnic had plann'd, + An' they had been invited.' + + _Tom Twisleton's Poems in the Craven Dialect._ + + +It had been arranged that Mildred should form one of the luncheon-party +at the vicarage, and that Richard should accompany her, while the rest +of the young people were regaled at the Hall, where pretty May +Chesterton held a sort of court. + +The pleasant old vicarage was soon crowded with gaily-dressed +guests--amongst them Mr. Trelawny and his daughter, and the Heaths of +Brough. + +Mildred, who had a predilection for old houses, found the vicarage much +to her taste; she liked the quaint dimly-lighted rooms, with their deep +embrasures, forming small inner rooms--while every window looked on the +trim lawn and churchyard. + +At luncheon she found herself under Mr. Delaware's special supervision, +and soon had abundant opportunity of admiring the straightforward common +sense and far-seeing views that had gained him universal esteem; he was +evidently no mean scholar, but what struck Mildred was the simplicity +and reticence that veiled his vast knowledge and made him an +appreciative listener. Miss Trelawny, who was seated at his right hand, +monopolised the greater share of his attentions, and Mildred fancied +that her _naļveté_ and freshness were highly attractive, as every now +and then an amused smile crossed his face. + +Mrs. Delaware bloomed at them from the end of the table. She was rather +more quietly dressed and looked prettier than ever, but Mildred noticed +that the uneasy look, of which Richard had spoken, crossed her husband's +face, as her voice, by no means gently modulated, reached his ears; +evidently he had a vexed sort of affection for the happy dimpling +creature, who offended all his pet prejudices, wounded his too sensitive +refinement, and disturbed the established _régime_ of his scholarly +life. + +Susie's creams and roses were unimpeachable, and her voice had the clear +freshness of a lark, but dearly as he might love her, she could hardly +be a companion to her husband in his higher moods--the keynote of +sympathy must be wanting between this strangely-assorted couple, Mildred +thought, and she wondered if any vague regrets for that youthful romance +of his marred the possible harmonies of the present. + +Would not a richly-cultivated mind like Ethel Trelawny's, for example, +with strong original bias and all kinds of motiveless asceticism, have +accorded better with his notions of womanly perfection, the classic +features and low-pitched voice gaining by contrast with Susie's loud +tuneful key and waste of bloom? + +By an odd coincidence Mildred found herself alone with Mrs. Delaware +after luncheon; the other ladies had already gone over to the park with +the vicar, but his wife, who had been detained by some unavoidable +business, had asked Mildred to wait for her. + +Presently she appeared flushed and radiant. + +'It is so good of you to wait, Miss Lambert; Stephen is so particular, +and I was afraid things might go wrong as they did last year; I suppose +he has gone on with the others.' + +'Yes.' + +'And Miss Trelawny?' + +'I believe so.' + +Mrs. Delaware's bright face fell a little. + +'Miss Trelawny is a rare talker, at least Stephen says so; but I never +understand whether she is in fun or earnest; she must be clever, though, +or Stephen would not say so much in her praise.' + +'I think she amuses him.' + +'Stephen does not care for amusement, he is always so terribly in +earnest. Sometimes they talk for hours, till my head quite aches with +listening to them. Do you think women ought to be so clever, Miss +Lambert?' continued Susie, a little wistfully; and Mildred thought what +a sweet face she had, and wondered less over Mr. Delaware's +choice--after all, blue eyes, when they are clear and loving, have a +potent charm of their own. + +'I do not know that Miss Trelawny is so very clever,' she returned; 'she +is original, but not quite restful; I could understand that she would +tire most men.' + +'But not men like my Stephen,' betraying in her simplicity some hidden +irritation. + +'Possibly not for an hour or two, only by continuance. The cleverest man +I ever knew,' continued Mildred artfully, 'married a woman without an +idea beyond housekeeping; he was an astronomer, and she used to sit +working beside him, far into the night, while he carried on his abstruse +calculations; he was a handsome man, and she was quite ordinary-looking, +but they were the happiest couple I ever knew.' + +'Maybe she loved him dearly,' returned Susie simply, but Mildred saw a +glittering drop or two on her long eyelashes; and just then they reached +the park gates, where they found Mr. Delaware waiting for them. + +The park now presented a gay aspect, the sun shone on the old Hall and +its trimly-kept gardens, its parterres blazing with scarlet geraniums, +and verbenas, and heliotropes, and its shady winding walks full of happy +groups. + +On the lawn before the Hall the band was playing, and rustic couples +were already arranging themselves for the dance, tea was brewing in the +great white tent, with its long tables groaning with good cheer, +children were playing amongst the trees; in the meadow below the sports +were held--the hound trail, pole-leaping, long-leaping, trotting-matches +and wrestling filling up the afternoon. + +Mildred was watching the dancers when she heard herself accosted by +name; there was no mistaking those crisp tones, they could belong to no +other than Ethel Trelawny. + +Miss Trelawny was looking remarkably well to-day, her cheeks had a soft +bloom, and the rippling dark-brown hair strayed most becomingly from +under the little white bonnet; she looked brighter, happier, more +animated. + +'I thought you were busy in the tent, Miss Trelawny.' + +Ethel laughed. + +'I gave up my place to Mrs. Cooper; it is too much to expect any one to +remain in that stiffling place four mortal hours; just fancy, Miss +Lambert, tea commences at 2 P.M. and goes on till 6.' + +'I pity the tea-makers; Mrs. Delaware is one of course.' + +'She is far from cool, but perfectly happy. Mrs. Delaware's table is +always crowded, mine was so empty that I gave it up to Mrs. Cooper in +disgust. Mr. Delaware will give me a scolding for deserting my post, but +I daresay I shall survive it. How cool it is under these trees; shall we +walk a little?' + +'If you like; but I enjoy watching those dancers.' + +'Distance will lend enchantment to the view--there is no poetry of +movement there;' pointing a little disdainfully to a clumsy bumpkin who +was violently impelling a full-blown rustic beauty through the mazes of +a waltz. + +'What is lost in grace is made up in heartiness,' returned Mildred, bent +on defending her favourite pastime. 'Look how lightly and well that girl +in the lilac muslin is dancing; she would hardly disgrace a ballroom.' + +'She looks very happy,' returned Ethel, a little enviously; 'she is one +of Mr. Delaware's favourite scholars, and I think she is engaged to that +young farmer with whom she is dancing; by the bye, have you seen Dr. +Heriot?' + +'No. I did not know he was here.' + +'He was in the tent just now looking for you. He said he had promised to +report himself as soon as he arrived. He found fault with the cup of tea +I gave him, and then he and Richard went off together.' + +Mildred smiled; she thought she knew the reason why Miss Trelawny looked +so animated. She knew Dr. Heriot was a great favourite up at +Kirkleatham, in spite of the many battles that were waged between him +and Ethel; somehow she felt glad herself that Dr. Heriot had come. + +Following Miss Trelawny's lead, they had crossed the park and the +pleasure garden, and were now in a little grove skirting the fields, +which led to a lonely summer-house, set in the heart of the green +meadows, with an enchanting view of the blue hills beyond. + +'What a lovely spot,' observed Mildred. + +'Here would my hermit spirit dwell apart,' laughed Ethel. 'What a sense +of freedom those wide hills give one. I am glad you like it,' she +continued, more simply. 'I brought you here because I saw you cared for +these sort of things.' + +'Most people care for a beautiful prospect.' + +'Yes; but theirs is mere surface admiration--yours goes deeper. Do you +know, Miss Lambert, I was wondering all luncheon time why you always +look so restful and contented?' + +'Perhaps because I am so,' returned Mildred, smiling. + +'Yes, but you have known trouble; your face says so plainly; there are +lines that have no business to be there; in some things you are older +than your age.' + +'You are a keen observer, Miss Trelawny.' + +'Do not answer me like that,' she returned, a little hurt; 'you are so +earnest yourself that you ought to allow for earnestness in others. I +knew directly I heard your voice that I should like you; does my +frankness displease you?' turning on her abruptly. + +'On the contrary, it pleases me!' replied Mildred, but she blushed a +little under the scrutiny of this strange girl. + +'You are undemonstrative, so am I to most people; but directly I saw +your face and heard you speak I knew yours was a true nature, and I was +anxious to win you for my friend; you do not know how sadly I want one,' +she continued, her voice trembling a little. 'One cannot live without +sympathy.' + +'It is not meant that we should do so,' returned Mildred, softly. + +'I believe mine to be an almost isolated case,' returned Ethel. 'No +mother, no----' she checked herself, turned pale and hurried on, 'with +only a childlike memory of what brother-love really is, and a faint-off +remembrance of a little white wasted face resting on a pillow strewn +with lilies. I was very young then, but I remember how I cried when they +told me my baby-sister was an angel in heaven.' + +'How old were you when your brothers died?' asked Mildred, gently. +Ethel's animation had died away, and a look of deep sadness now crossed +her face. + +'I was only ten, Rupert was twelve, and Sidney fourteen; such fine manly +boys, Sid. especially, and so good to me. Mamma never got over their +death; and then I lost her; it seems so lonely their leaving me behind. +Sometimes I wonder for what purpose I am left, and if I have much to +suffer before I am allowed to join them?' and Ethel's eyes grew fixed +and dreamy, till Mildred's sympathetic voice roused her. + +'I should think nothing can replace a brother. When I was young I used +to wish I were one of a large family. I remember envying a girl who told +me she had seven sisters.' + +Ethel looked up with a melancholy smile. + +'I wonder what it would be like to have a sister? I mean if Ella had +lived--she would be sixteen now. I used to have all sorts of strange +fancies about her when I was a child. Mamma once read me Longfellow's +poem of _Resignation_, and it made a great impression on me. You +remember the words, Miss Lambert?' and Ethel repeated in her fresh sweet +voice-- + + '"Not as a child shall we again behold her, + For when with raptures wild, + In our embraces we again enfold her, + She will not be a child. + + "But a fair maiden in her Father's mansion, + Clothed with celestial grace, + And beautiful with all the soul's expansion + Shall we behold her face." + +That image of progressive beatitude and expanding youth seized strongly +upon my childish imagination.' Mildred's smile was a sufficient answer, +and Ethel went on in the same dreamy tone, 'After a time the little dead +face became less distinct, and in its place I became conscious of a +strange feeling, of a new sort of sister-love. I thought of Ella growing +up in heaven, not learning the painful lessons I was so wearily learning +here, but schooled by angels in the nobler mysteries of love; and so +strong was this belief, that when I was naughty or had given way to +temper, I would cry myself to sleep, thinking that Ella would be +disappointed in me, and often I did not dare look up at the stars for +fear her eyes should be sorrowfully looking down on me. You will think +me a fanciful visionary, Miss Lambert, but this childish thought has +been my safeguard in many an hour of temptation.' + +'I would all our fancies were as pure. You need not fear that I should +laugh at you as visionary, my dear Miss Trelawny; after all you may have +laid your grasp on a great truth--there can be nothing undeveloped and +imperfect in heaven, and infancy is necessarily imperfect.' + +'I never sympathised with the crude fancies of the old masters,' +returned Miss Trelawny; 'the winged heads of their bodiless cherubs are +as unsatisfactory and impalpable as Homer's flitting shades and +shivering ghosts; but your last speech has chilled me somehow.' + +Mildred looked up in surprise; but Ethel's smile reassured her. + +'No one but my father ever calls me Ethel--to the world I am Miss +Trelawny, even Olive and Chriss are ceremonious, and latterly Mr. +Lambert has dropped the old familiar term; somehow it adds to one's +feeling of loneliness.' + +'Do you mean that you wish me to drop such ceremony?' returned Mildred, +laughing a little nervously. 'Ethel! it is a quaint name, hardly +musical, and with a suspicion of a lisp, but full of character; it suits +you somehow.' + +'Then you will use it!' exclaimed Ethel impulsively. 'We are strangers, +and yet I have talked to you this afternoon as I have never done to any +one before.' + +'There you pay me a compliment.' + +'You have such a motherly way with you, Mildred--Miss Lambert, I mean.' + +Mildred blushed, 'Please do not correct yourself.' + +'What! I may call you Mildred? how nice that will be; I shall feel as +though you are some wise elder sister, you have got such tender +old-fashioned ways, and yet they suit you somehow. I like you better, I +think, because there seems nothing young about you.' + +Ethel's speech gave Mildred a little pang--unselfish and free from +vanity as her nature was, she was still only a woman, and regret for her +passing youth shadowed her brightness for a moment. Until her mother's +death she had never given it a thought. Why did Ethel's fresh beauty and +glorious young vitality raise the faint wish, now heard for the first +time, that she were more like the youthful and fairer Mildred of long +ago? but even before Ethel had finished speaking, the unworthy thought +was banished. + +'I believe a wearing and long-continued trouble ages more than years; +women have no right to grow sober before thirty, I know. Some lighter +natures go haymaking between the tombs,' she went on quaintly, and as +Ethel looked up astonished at the strange simile--'I have borrowed my +metaphor from a homely circumstance, but as I sat working in the cool +lobby yesterday they were making hay in the sunny churchyard, and +somehow the idea seemed incongruous--the idea of gleaning sweetness and +nourishment from decay. But does it not strike you we are becoming very +philosophical--what are the little rush-bearers doing now I wonder?' + +'After all, your human sympathies are less exclusive than mine,' +returned her companion, regretfully. 'I like this cool retreat better +than the crowded park; but we are not to be left any longer in peace,' +she continued, with a slight access of colour, 'there are Dr. Heriot and +Richard bearing down on us.' Mildred was not sorry to be disturbed, as +she thought it was high time to look after Olive and Chriss, an +intention that Dr. Heriot instantly negatived by placing himself at her +side. + +'There is not the slightest necessity--they are under Mrs. Chesterton's +wing,' he remarked coolly; 'we have been searching the park and grounds +fruitlessly for an hour, till Richard hit on this spot; the hiding-place +is worthy of Miss Trelawny.' + +'You mean it is romantic enough; your words have a double edge, Dr. +Heriot.' + +'Pax,' he returned, laughingly, 'it is too hot to renew the skirmish we +carried on in the tent. I have brought you a favourable report of your +brother, Miss Lambert; Mr. Warden, an old college chum of his, had +arrived unexpectedly, and he was showing him the church.' + +One of Mildred's sweet smiles flitted over her face. + +'How good you are to take all this trouble for me, Dr. Heriot.' + +Dr. Heriot gave her an inscrutable look in which drollery came +uppermost. + +'Are you given to weigh fractional kindnesses in your neighbour? Most +people give gratitude in grains for whole ounces of avoirdupois weight; +what a grateful soul yours is, Miss Lambert.' + +'The moral being that Dr. Heriot dislikes thanks, Mildred.' + +Dr. Heriot gave a low exclamation of surprise, which evidently irritated +Miss Trelawny. 'It has come to that already, has it,' he said to himself +with an inward chuckle, but Mildred could make nothing of his look of +satisfaction and Ethel's aggravated colour. + +'Why don't you deliver us one of your favourite tirades against feminine +caprice and impulse?' observed Miss Trelawny, in a piqued voice. + +'When caprice and impulse take the form of wisdom,' was the answer in a +meaning tone, 'Mentor's office of rebuke fails.' + +Ethel arched her eyebrows slightly, 'Mentor approves then?' + +'Can you doubt it?' in a more serious tone. 'I feel we may still have +hopes of you;' then turning to Mildred, with the play of fun still in +his eyes, 'Our aside baffles you, Miss Lambert. Miss Trelawny is good +enough to style me her Mentor, which means that she has given me a right +to laugh at her nonsense and talk sense to her sometimes.' + +'You are too bad,' returned Ethel in a low voice; but she was evidently +hurt by the raillery, gentle as it was. + +'Miss Trelawny forms such extravagant ideals of men and women, that no +one but a moral Anak can possibly reach to her standard; the rest of us +have to stand tiptoe in the vain effort to raise ourselves.' + +'Dr. Heriot, how can you be so absurd?' laughed Mildred. + +'It must be very fatiguing to stand on tiptoe all one's life; perhaps we +might feel a difficulty of breathing in your rarer atmosphere, Miss +Trelawny--fancy one's ideas being always in full dress, from morning to +night. When you marry, do you always mean to dish up philosophy with +your husband's breakfast?' + +The hot colour mounted to Ethel's forehead. + +'I give you warning that he will yawn over it sometimes, and refresh +himself by talking to his dogs; even Bayard, that peerless knight, _sans +peur_ and _sans reproche_, could be a little sulky at times, you may +depend on it!' + +'Bayard is not my hero now,' she returned, trying to pluck up a little +spirit with which to answer him. 'I have decided lately in favour of Sir +Philip Sidney, as my beau-ideal of an English gentleman.' + +'Rex and I chose him for our favourite ages ago,' observed Richard +eagerly, who until now had remained silent. + +'Yes,' continued Ethel, enthusiastically, 'that one act of unselfishness +has invested him with the reverence of centuries; can you not fancy the +awful temptation, Mildred--the death thirst under the scorching sun, the +unendurable agony of untended wounds, the cup of cold water, just tasted +and refused for the sake of the poor wretch lying beside him; one could +lay down one's life for such a man as that!' + +'Yes, it was a gentlemanly action,' observed Dr. Heriot, coolly; and as +Ethel's face expressed resentment at the phrase, 'have you ever thought +how much is comprehended under the term gentleman? To me the word is +fuller and more comprehensive than that of hero; your heroes are such +noisy fellows; there is always a sound of the harp, sackbut, psaltery, +and dulcimer about them; and they pass their life in fitting their +attitudes to their pedestal.' + +'Dr. John is riding one of his favourite hobbies,' observed Richard, in +a low voice. 'Never mind, he admires Sir Philip as much as we do!' + +'True, Cardie; but though I do not deny the heroism of the act, I +maintain that many a man in his place would do the same thing. Have we +no stories of heroism in our Crimean annals? Amongst the hideous details +of the Indian mutiny were there no deeds that might match that of the +dying soldier at Zutphen?' + +'Perhaps so; but all the same I have a right to my own ideal.' + +A mocking smile swept over Dr. Heriot's face. + +'Virtue in an Elizabethan ruff surpasses virtue clad in nineteenth +century broadcloth and fustian. I suspect even in your favourite Sir +Philip's case distance lends enchantment to the view; he wrote very +sweetly on Arcadia, but who knows but a twinge of the gout may not have +made him cross?' + +'How you persist in misunderstanding me,' returned Ethel, with a touch +of feeling in her voice. 'I suppose as usual I have brought this upon +myself, but why will you believe that I am so hard to please? After all +you are right; Bayard and Sir Philip Sidney are only typical characters +of their day; there must be great men even in this generation.' + +'There are downright honest men--men who are not ashamed to confess to +flaws and inconsistencies, and possible twinges of gout.' + +'There you spoil all,' said Mildred, with an amused look; but Dr. +Heriot's mischievous mood was not to be restrained. + +'One of these honest fellows with a tolerably tough will, and not an +ounce of imagination in his whole composition--positively of the earth, +earthy--will strike the right chord that is to bring Hermione from off +her pedestal--don't frown, Miss Trelawny; you may depend upon it those +old Turks were right, and there is a fate in these things.' + +Ethel curved her long neck superbly, and turned with a slightly +contemptuous expression to Richard: her patience was exhausted. + +'I think my father will be wondering what has become of me; will you +take me to him?' + +'There they go, Ethel and her knight; how little she knows that perhaps +her fate is beside her; they are too much of an age, but that lad has +the will of half a dozen men.' + +'Why do you tease her so?' remonstrated Mildred. Dr. Heriot still +retained his seat comfortably beside her. 'She is very girlish and +romantic, but she hardly deserved such biting sarcasms.' + +'Was I sarcastic?' he asked, evidently surprised. 'Poor child! I would +not have hurt her for the world. And these luxuriant fancies need +pruning; hers is a fine nature run to seed for want of care and proper +nurture.' + +'I think she needs sympathy,' returned gentle Mildred. + +'Then she has sought it in the right quarter,' with a look she could +hardly misunderstand, 'and where the supply is always equal to the +demand; but I warn you she is somewhat of an egotist.' + +'Oh no!' warmly. 'I am sure Miss Trelawny is not selfish.' + +'That depends how you interpret the phrase. She would give you all her +jewels without a sigh, but you must allow her to talk out all her fine +feeling in return. After all, she is only like others of her sex.' + +'You are in one of your misanthropical moods.' + +'Men are not always feeling their own pulse and detailing their moral +symptoms, depend upon it; it is quite a feminine weakness, Miss Lambert. +I think I know one woman tolerably free from the disease, at least +outwardly;' and as Mildred blushed under the keen, yet kindly look, Dr. +Heriot somewhat abruptly changed the subject. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE WELL-MEANING MISCHIEF-MAKER + + 'And in that shadow I have pass'd along, + Feeling myself grow weak as it grew strong; + Walking in doubt and searching for the way, + And often at a stand--as now to-day. + + * * * * * + + Perplexities do throng upon my sight + Like scudding fogbanks, to obscure the light; + Some new dilemma rises every day, + And I can only shut my eyes and pray.'--Anon. + + +Mildred had been secretly reproaching herself for allowing Dr. Heriot's +pleasing conversation so completely to monopolise her, and even her +healthy conscience felt a pang something like remorse when, half an hour +later, they came upon Olive sitting alone on a tree-trunk, having +evidently stolen apart from her companions to indulge unobserved in one +of her usual reveries. + +She was too much absorbed to notice them till addressed by name, and +then, to Mildred's surprise, she started, coloured from chin to brow, +and, muttering some excuse, seemed only anxious to effect her escape. + +'I hope you are not composing an Ode to Melancholy,' observed Dr. +Heriot, with one of his quizzical looks. 'You look like a forsaken +wood-nymph, or a disconsolate Chloe, or Jacques' sobbing deer, or any +other uncomfortable image of loneliness. What an unsociable creature you +are, Olive.' + +'Why are you not with Chrissy and the Chestertons? I hope we have not +all neglected you,' interposed Mildred in her soft voice, for she saw +that Olive shrank from Dr. Heriot's good-humoured raillery. 'Are you +tired, dear? Roy has not ordered the carriage for another hour, I am +afraid.' + +'No, I am not tired; I was only thinking. I will find Chriss,' returned +Olive, stammering and blushing still more under her aunt's affectionate +scrutiny. 'Don't come with me, please, Aunt Milly. I like being alone.' +And before Mildred could answer, she had disappeared down a little +side-walk, and was now lost to sight. + +Dr. Heriot laughed at Mildred's discomposed look. + +'You remind me of the hen when she hatched the duckling and found it +taking kindly to the unknown element. You must get used to Olive's odd +ways; she is decidedly original. I should not wonder if we disturbed her +in the first volume of some wonderful scheme-book, where all the +heroines are martyrs and the hero is a full-length portrait of Richard. +I warn you all her _dénouements_ will be disastrous. Olive does not +believe in happiness for herself or other people.' + +'How hard you are on her!' returned Mildred, finding it impossible to +restrain a smile; but in reality she felt a little anxious. Olive had +seemed more than usually absorbed during the last few days; there was a +concentrated gravity in her manner that had struck Mildred more than +once, but all questioning had been in vain. 'I am not unhappy--at least, +not more than usual. I am only thinking out some troublesome thoughts,' +she had said when Mildred had pressed her the previous night. 'No, you +cannot do anything for me, Aunt Milly. I only want to help myself and +other people to do right.' And Mildred, who was secretly weary of this +endless scrupulosity, and imagined it was only a fresh attack of Olive's +troublesome conscience, was fain to rest content with the answer, though +she reproached herself not a little afterwards for a selfish evasion of +a manifest duty. + +The remainder of the day passed over pleasantly enough. Dr. Heriot had +contrived to make his peace with Miss Trelawny, for she had regained her +old serenity of manner when Mildred saw her again. She came just as they +were starting, to beg that Mildred would spend a long day at Kirkleatham +House. + +'Papa is going over to Appleby, to the Sessions Court, and I shall be +alone all day to-morrow. Do come, Mildred,' she pleaded. 'You do not +know what a treat it will be to me.' And though Mildred hesitated, her +objections were all overruled by Richard, who insisted that nobody +wanted her, and that a holiday would do her good. + +Richard's arguments prevailed, and Mildred thoroughly enjoyed her +holiday. Some hours of unrestrained intercourse only convinced her that +Ethel Trelawny's faults lay on the surface, and were the result of a +defective education and disadvantageous circumstances, while the real +nobility of her character revealed itself in every thought and word. She +had laid aside the slight hauteur and extravagance that marred +simplicity and provoked the just censure of men like Dr. Heriot; lesser +natures she delighted to baffle by an eccentricity that was often +ill-timed and out of place, but to-day the stilts, as Dr. Heriot termed +them, were out of sight. Mildred's sincerity touched the right keynote, +her brief captiousness vanished, unconsciously she showed the true side +of her character. Gentle, though unsatisfied; childishly eager, and with +a child's purity of purpose; full of lofty aims, unpractical, waiting +breathless for mere visionary happiness for which she knew no name; a +sweet, though subtle egotist, and yet tender-hearted and womanly;--no +wonder Ethel Trelawny was a fascinating study to Mildred that long +summer's day. + +Mildred listened with unwearied sympathy while Ethel dwelt pathetically +on her lonely and purposeless life, with its jarring gaieties and +absence of congenial fellowship. + +'Papa is dreadfully methodical and business-like. He always finds fault +with me because I am so unpractical, and will never let me help him, or +talk about what interests him; and then he cares for politics. He was so +disappointed because he failed in the last election. His great ambition +is to be a member of parliament. I know they got him to contest the +Kendal borough; but he had no chance, though he spent I am afraid to say +how much money. The present member was too popular, and was returned by +a large majority. He was very angry because I did not sympathise with +him in his disappointment; but how could I, knowing it was for the +honour of the position that he wanted it, and not for the highest +motives? And then the bribery and corruption were so sickening.' + +'I do not think we ought to impute any but the highest motives until we +know to the contrary,' returned Mildred, mildly. + +Ethel coloured. 'You think me disloyal; but papa knows my sentiments +well; we shall never agree on these questions--never. I fancy men in +general take a far less high standard than women.' + +'You are wrong there,' returned practical Mildred, firing up at this +sweeping assertion, which had a taint of heresy in her ears. 'Because +men live instead of talk their opinions, you misjudge them. Do you think +the single eye and the steady aim is not a necessary adjunct of all real +manhood? Look at my brother, look at Dr. Heriot, for example; they are +no mere worldlings, leading purposeless existences; they are both hard +workers and deep thinkers.' + +'We will leave Dr. Heriot out of the question; I see he has begun to be +perfection in your eyes, Mildred. Nay,'--and Mildred drew herself up +with a little dignity and looked annoyed,--'I meant nothing but the most +platonic admiration, which I assure you he reciprocates in an equal +degree. He thinks you a very superior person--so well-principled, so +entirely unselfish; he is always quoting you as an example, and----' + +'I agree with you that we should leave personalities in the background,' +returned Mildred, hastily, and taking herself to task for feeling +aggrieved at Dr. Heriot calling her a superior person. The argument +waxed languid at this point; Ethel became a little lugubrious under +Mildred's reproof, and relapsed into pathetic egotism again, pouring out +her longings for vocation, work, sympathy, and all the disconnected iota +of female oratory worked up into enthusiasm. + +'I want work, Mildred.' + +'And yet you dream dreams and see visions.' + +'Hush! please let me finish. I do not mean make-believes, shifts to get +through the day, fanciful labours befitting rank and station, but real +work, that will fill one's heart and life.' + +'Yours is a hungry nature. I fear the demand would double the supply. +You would go starved from the very place where we poor ordinary mortals +would have a full meal.' + +Ethel pouted. 'I wish you would not borrow metaphors from our tiresome +Mentor. I declare, Mildred, your words have always more or less a +flavour of Dr. Heriot's.' + +Mildred quietly took up her work. 'You know how to reduce me to +silence.' + +But Ethel playfully impeded the sewing by laying her crossed hands over +it. + +'Dr. Heriot's name seems an apple of discord between us, Mildred.' + +'You are so absurd about him.' + +'I am always provoked at hearing his opinions second-hand. I have less +comfort in talking to him than to any one else; I always seem to be +airing my own foolishness.' + +'At least, I am not accountable for that,' returned Mildred, pointedly. + +'No,' returned Ethel, with her charming smile, which at once disarmed +Mildred's prudery. 'You wise people think and talk much alike; you are +both so hard on mere visionaries. But I can bear it more patiently from +you than from him.' + +'I cannot solve riddles,' replied Mildred, in her old sensible manner. +'It strikes me that you have fashioned Dr. Heriot into a sort of +bugbear--a _bźte noir_ to frighten naughty, prejudiced children; and yet +he is truly gentle.' + +'It is the sort of gentleness that rebukes one more than sternness,' +returned Ethel in a low voice. 'How odd it is, Mildred, when one feels +compelled to show the worst side of oneself, to the very people, too, +whom one most wishes to propitiate, or, at least--but my speech +threatens to be as incoherent as Olive's.' + +'I know what you mean; it comes of thinking too much of a mere +expression of opinion.' + +'Oh no,' she returned, with a quick blush; 'it only comes from a rash +impulse to dethrone Mentor altogether--the idea of moral leading reins +are so derogatory after childhood has passed.' + +'You must give me a hint if I begin to lecture in my turn. I shall +forget sometimes you are not Olive or Chriss.' + +The soft, brilliant eyes filled suddenly with tears. + +'I could find it in my heart to wish I were even Olive, whom you have a +right to lecture. How nice it would be to belong to you really, +Mildred--to have a real claim on your time and sympathy.' + +'All my friends have that,' was the soft answer. 'But how dark it is +growing--the longest day must have an end, you see.' + +'That means--you are going,' she returned, regretfully. 'Mother Mildred +is thinking of her children. I shall come down and see you and them +soon, and you must promise to find me some work.' + +Mildred shook her head. 'It must not be my finding if it is to satisfy +your exorbitant demands.' + +'We shall see; anyhow you have left me plenty to think about--you will +leave a little bit of sunshine behind you in this dull, rambling house. +Shall you go alone? Richard or Royal ought to have walked up to meet +you.' + +'Richard half promised he would, but I do not mind a lonely walk.' And +Mildred nodded brightly as she turned out of the lodge gates. She looked +back once; the moon was rising, a star shone on the edge of a dark +cloud, the air was sweet with the breath of honeysuckles and roses, a +slight breeze stirred Ethel's white dress as she leaned against the +heavy swing-gate, the sound of a horse's hoofs rang out from the +distance, the next moment she had disappeared into the shrubbery, and +Dr. Heriot walked his horse all the way to the town by the side of +Mildred. + +Mildred's day had refreshed and exhilarated her; congenial society was +as new as it was delightful. 'Somehow I think I feel younger instead of +older,' thought the quiet woman, as she turned up the vicarage lane and +entered the courtyard; 'after all, it is sweet to be appreciated.' + +'Is that you, Aunt Milly? You look ghost-like in the gloaming.' + +'Naughty boy, how you startled me! Why did not you or Richard walk up to +Kirkleatham House?' + +'We could not,' replied Roy, gravely. 'My father wanted Richard, and +I--I did not feel up to it. Go in, Aunt Milly; it is very damp and +chilly out here to-night.' And Roy resumed his former position of +lounging against the trellis-work of the porch. There was a touch of +despondency in the lad's voice and manner that struck Mildred, and she +lingered for a moment in the porch. + +'Are you not coming in too?' + +'No, thank you, not at present,' turning away his face. + +'Is there anything the matter, Roy?' + +'Yes--no. One must have a fit of the dumps sometimes; life is not all +syrup of roses'--rather crossly for Roy. + +'Poor old Royal--what's amiss, I wonder? There, I will not tease you,' +touching his shoulder caressingly, but with a half-sigh at the reticence +of Betha's boys. 'Where is Richard?' + +'With my father--I thought I told you;' then, mastering his irritability +with an effort, 'please don't go to them, Aunt Milly, they are +discussing something. Things are rather at sixes and sevens this +evening, thanks to Livy's interference; she will tell you all about it. +Good-night, Aunt Milly;' and as though afraid of being further +questioned, Roy strode down the court, where Mildred long afterwards +heard him kicking up the beck gravel, as a safe outlet and vent for +pent-up irritability. + +Mildred drew a long breath as she went upstairs. 'I shall pay dearly for +my pleasant holiday,' she thought. She could hear low voices in earnest +talk as she passed the study, but as she stole noiselessly down the +lobby no sound reached her from the girls' room, and she half hoped +Olive was asleep. + +As she opened her own door, however, there was a slight sound as of a +caught breath, and then a quick sob, and to her dismay she could just +see in the faint light the line of crouching shoulders and a bent figure +huddled up near the window that could belong to no other than Olive. It +must be confessed that Mildred's heart shrank for a moment from the +weary task that lay before her; but the next instant genuine pity and +compassion banished the unworthy thought. + +'My poor child, what is this?' + +'Oh, Aunt Milly,' with a sort of gasp, 'I thought you would never come.' + +'Never mind; I am here now. Wait a moment till I strike a light,' +commenced Mildred, cheerfully; but Olive interrupted her with unusual +fretfulness. + +'Please don't; I can talk so much better in the dark. I came in here +because Chrissy was awake, and I could not bear her talk.' + +'Very well, my dear, it shall be as you wish,' returned Mildred, gently; +and the soft warm hands closed over the girl's chill, nervous fingers +with comforting pressure. A strong restful nature like Mildred's was the +natural refuge of a timid despondent one such as Olive's. The poor girl +felt a sensation something like comfort as she groped her way a little +nearer to her aunt, and felt the kind arm drawing her closer. + +'Now tell me all about it, my dear.' + +Olive began, but it was difficult for Mildred to follow the long +rambling confession; with all her love for truth, Olive's morbid +sensitiveness tinged most things with exaggeration. Mildred hardly knew +if her timidity and incoherence were not jumbling facts and suppositions +together with a great deal of intuitive wisdom and perception. There was +a sad amount of guess-work and unreality, but after a few leading +questions, and by dint of allowing Olive to tell her story in her own +way, she contrived to get tolerably near the true state of the case. + +It appeared that Olive had for a long time been seriously unhappy about +her brothers. Truthful and uncompromising herself, there had seemed to +her a want of integrity and a blamable lack of openness in their +dealings with their father. With the best intentions, they were +absolutely deceiving him by leaving him in such complete, ignorance of +their wishes and intentions. Royal especially was making shipwreck of +his father's hopes concerning him, devoting most of his time and +energies to a secret pursuit; while his careless preparation for his +tutor was practical, if not actual, dishonesty. + +'At least Cardie works hard enough,' interrupted Mildred at this point. + +'Yes, because it will serve either purpose; but, Aunt Milly, he ought to +tell papa how he dreads the idea of being ordained; it is not right; he +is unfit for it; it is worse than wrong--absolute sacrilege;' and Olive +poured out tremblingly into her aunt's shocked ear that she knew Cardie +had doubts, that he was unhappy about himself. No--no one had told her, +but she knew it; she had watched him, and heard him talk, and she burst +into tears as she told Mildred that once he absolutely sneered at +something in his father's sermon which he declared obsolete, and not a +matter of faith at all. + +'But, my dear,' interrupted the elder woman, anxiously, 'my brother +ought to know. I--some one--must speak to Richard.' + +'Oh, Aunt Milly, you will hear--it is I--who have done the mischief; but +you told me there were no such things as conflicting duties; and what is +the use of a conscience if it be not to guide and make us do unpleasant +things?' + +'You mean you spoke to Richard?' + +'I have often tried to speak to him, but he was always angry, and +muttered something about my interference; he could not bear me to read +him so truly. I know it was all Mr. Macdonald. Papa had him to stay here +for a month, and he did Cardie so much harm.' + +'Who is he--I never heard of him?' And Olive explained, in her rambling +way, that he was an old college friend of her father's and a very clever +barrister, and he had come to them to recruit after a long illness. +According to her accounts, his was just the sort of character to attract +a nature like Richard's. His brilliant and subtle reasoning, his long +and interesting disquisitions on all manner of subjects, his sceptical +hints, conveying the notion of danger, and yet never exactly touching on +forbidden ground, though they involved a perilous breadth of views, all +made him a very unsafe companion for Richard's clever, inquisitive mind. +Olive guessed, rather than knew, that things were freely canvassed in +those long country walks that would have shocked her father; though, to +his credit be it said, Henry Macdonald had no idea of the mischievous +seed he had scattered in the ardent soil of a young and undeveloped +nature. + +Mildred was very greatly dismayed too when she heard that Richard had +read books against which he had been warned, and which must have further +unsettled his views. 'I think mamma guessed he had something on his +mind, for she was always trying to make him talk to papa, and telling +him papa could help him; but I heard him say to her once that he could +not bear to disappoint him so, that he must have time, and battle +through it alone. I know mamma could not endure Mr. Macdonald; and when +papa wanted to have him again, she said, once quite decidedly, "No, she +did not like him, and he was not good for Richard." I noticed papa +seemed quite surprised and taken aback.' + +'Well, go on, my dear;' for Olive sighed afresh at this point, as though +it were difficult to proceed. + +'Of course you will think me wrong, Aunt Milly. I do myself now; but if +you knew how I thought about it, till my head ached and I was half +stupid!--but I worked myself up to believe that I ought to speak to +papa.' + +'Ah!' Mildred checked the exclamation that rose to her lips, fearing +lest a weary argument should break the thread of Olive's narrative, +which now showed signs of flowing smoothly. + +'I half made up my mind to ask your advice, Aunt Milly, on the +rush-bearing day, but you were tired, and Polly was with you, and----' + +'Have I ever been too tired to help you, Olive?' asked Mildred, +reproachfully; all the more that an uncomfortable sensation crossed her +at the remembrance that she had noticed a wistful anxiety in Olive's +eyes the previous night, but had nevertheless dismissed her on the plea +of weariness, feeling herself unequal to one of the girl's endless +discussions. 'I am sorry--nay, heartily grieved--if I have ever repelled +your confidence.' + +'Please don't talk so, Aunt Milly; of course it was my fault, but' +(timidly) 'I am afraid sometimes I shall tire even you;' and Mildred's +pangs of conscience were so intense that she dared not answer; she knew +too well that Olive had of late tired her, though she had no idea the +girl's sensitiveness had been wounded. A kind of impatience seized her +as Olive talked on; she felt the sort of revolt and want of realization +that borders the pity of one in perfect health walking for the first +time through the wards of a hospital, and met on all sides by the +spectacle of mutilated and suffering humanity. + +'How shall I ever deal with all these moods of mind?' she thought +hopelessly, as she composed herself to listen. + +'So you spoke to your father, Olive? Go on; I will tell you afterwards +what I think.' + +There was a little sternness in the low tones, from which the girl +shrank. Of course Aunt Milly thought her wrong and interfering. Well, +she had been wrong, and she went on still more humbly: + +'I thought it was my duty; it made me miserable to do it, because I knew +Cardie would be angry, though I never knew how angry; but I got it into +my head that I ought to help him, in spite of himself, and because Rex +was so weak. You have no idea how weak and vacillating Rex is when it +comes to disappointing people, Aunt Milly.' + +'Yes, I know; go on,' was all the answer Mildred vouchsafed to this. + +'I brooded over it all St. Peter's day, and at night I could not sleep. +I thought of that verse about cutting off the right hand and plucking +out the right eye; it seemed to me it lay between Cardie and speaking +the truth, and that no pain ought to hinder me; and I determined to +speak to papa the first opportunity; and it came to-day. Cardie and Rex +were both out, and papa asked me to walk with him to Winton, and then he +got tired, and we sat down half-way on a fallen tree, and then I told +him.' + +'About Richard's views?' + +'About everything. I began with Rex; I told papa how his very sweetness +and amiability made him weak in things; he so hated disappointing +people, that he could not bring himself to say what he wished; and just +now, after his illness and trouble, it seemed doubly hard to do it.' + +'And what did he say to that?' + +'He looked grieved; yes, I am sure he was grieved. He does not believe +that Roy knows his own mind, or will ever do much good as an artist; but +all he said was, "I understand--my own boy--afraid of disappointing his +father. Well, well, the lad knows best what will make him happy."' + +'And then you told him about Richard?' + +'Yes,' catching her breath as though with a painful thought; 'when I got +to Cardie, somehow the words seemed to come of themselves, and it was +such a relief telling papa all I thought. It has been such a burden all +this time, for I am sure no one but mamma ever guessed how unhappy +Cardie really was.' + +'You, who know him so well, could inflict this mortification on him--no, +I did not mean to say that, you have suffered enough, my child; but did +it not occur to you that you were betraying a sacred confidence?' + +'Confidence, Aunt Milly!' + +'Yes, Olive; your deep insight into your brother's character, and your +very real affection for him, ought to have guarded you from this +mistake. If you had read him so truly as to discover all this for +yourself, you should not have imparted this knowledge without warning, +knowing how much it would wound his jealous reticence. If you had +waited, doubtless Richard's good sense would have induced him at last to +confide in his father.' + +'Not until it was too late--until he had worn himself out. He gets more +jaded and weary every day, Aunt Milly.' + +Mildred shook her head. + +'The golden rule holds good even here, "To do unto others as we would +they should do unto us." How would you like Richard to retail your +opinions and feelings, under the impression he owed you a duty?' + +'Aunt Milly, indeed I thought I was acting for the best.' + +'I do not doubt it, my child; the love that guided you was clearer than +the wisdom; but what did Arnold--what did your father say?' + +'Oh, Aunt Milly, he looked almost heart-broken; he covered his face with +his hands, and I think he was praying; and yet he seemed almost as +though he were talking to mamma. I am sure he had forgotten I was there. +I heard him say something about having been selfish in his great grief; +that he must have neglected his boy, or been hard and cruel to him, or +he would never have so repelled his confidence. "Betha's boy, her +darling," he kept saying to himself; "my poor Cardie, my poor lad," over +and over again, till I spoke to him to rouse him; and then he +said,'--here Olive faltered,--'"that I had been a good girl--a faithful +little sister,--and that I must try and take her place, and remind them +how good and loving she was." And then he broke down. Oh, Aunt Milly, it +was so dreadful; and then I made him come back.' + +'My poor brother! I knew he would take it to heart.' + +'He said it was like a stab to him, for he had always been so proud of +Cardie; and it was his special wish to devote his first-born to the +service of the Church; and when I asked if he wished it now, he said, +vehemently, "A half-hearted service, reluctantly made--God forbid a son +of mine should do such wrong!" and then he was silent for a long time; +and just at the beginning of the town we met Rex, and papa whispered to +me to leave them together.' + +'My poor Olive, I can guess what a hard day you have had,' said Mildred, +caressingly, as the girl paused in her recital. + +'The hardest part was to come;' and Olive shivered, as though suddenly +chilled. 'I was not prepared for Rex being so angry; he is so seldom +cross, but he said harder things to me than he has said in his life.' + +Mildred thought of the harmless kicks on the beck gravel, and the +irritability in the porch, and could not forbear a smile. She could not +imagine Roy's wrath could be very alarming, especially as Olive owned +her father had been very lenient to him, and had promised to give the +subject his full consideration. In this case, Olive's interference had +really worked good; but Roy's manhood had taken fire at the notion of +being watched and talked over; his father's mild hints of moral weakness +and dilatoriness had affronted him; and though secretly relieved, the +difficulty of revelation had been spared him, he had held his head +higher, and had crushed his sister by a tirade against feminine +impertinence and interference; and, what hurt her most, had declared his +intention of never confiding in such a 'meddlesome Matty again.' + +Mildred was thankful the darkness hid her look of amusement at this +portion of Olive's lugubrious story, though the girl herself was too +weak and cowed to see the ludicrous side of anything; and her voice +changed into the old hopeless key as she spoke of Richard's look of +withering scorn. + +'He was almost too angry to speak to me, Aunt Milly. He said he never +would trust me again. I had better not know what he thought of me. I had +injured him beyond reparation. I don't know what he meant by that, but +Roy told me that he would not have had his father troubled for the +world; he could manage his own concerns, spiritual as well as temporal, +for himself. And then he sneered; but oh, Aunt Milly, he looked so white +and ill. I am sure now that for some reason he did not want papa to +know; perhaps things were not so bad as I thought, or he is trying to +feel better about it all. Do you think I have done wrong, Aunt Milly?' + +And Olive wrung her hands in genuine distress and burst into fresh +tears, and sobbed out that she had done for herself now; no one would +believe she had said it for the best; even Rex was angry with her--and +Cardie, she was sure Cardie would never forgive her. + +'Yes, when this has blown over, and he and his father have come to a +full understanding. I have better faith in Cardie's good heart than +that.' + +But Mildred felt more uneasy than her cheerful words implied. She had +seen from the first that Richard had persistently misunderstood his +sister; this fresh interference on her part, as he would term it, +touching on a very sore place, would gall and irritate him beyond +endurance. He had no conception of the amount of unselfish affection +that was already lavished upon him; in fact he thought Olive provokingly +cold and undemonstrative, and chafed at her want of finer feelings. It +needed some sort of shock or revelation to enable him to read his +sister's character in a truer light, and any kind of one-sided +reconciliation would be a very warped and patched affair. + +Mildred's clear-sightedness was fully alive to these difficulties; but +it was expedient to comfort Olive, who had relapsed into her former +state of agitation. There was clearly no wrong in the case; want of tact +and mistaken kindness were the heaviest sins to be laid to poor Olive's +charge; yet Mildred now found her incoherently accusing herself of +wholesale want of principle, of duty, and declaring that she was +unworthy of any one's affections. + +'I shall call you naughty for the first time, Olive, if I hear any more +of this,' interrupted her aunt; and by infusing a little judicious +firmness into her voice, and by dint of management, though not without +difficulty, and representing that she herself was in need of rest, she +succeeded in persuading the worn-out girl to seek some repose. + +Unwilling to trust her out of her sight, she made her share her own bed; +nor did she relax her vigil until the swollen eyelids had closed in +refreshing sleep, and the sobbing breaths were drawn more evenly. Once, +at an uneasy movement, she started from the doze into which she had +fallen, and put aside the long dark hair with a fondling hand; the moon +was then shining from behind the hill, and the beams shone full through +the uncurtained windows; the girl's hands were crossed upon her breast, +folded over the tiny silver cross she always wore, a half-smile playing +on her lips-- + +'Cardie is always a good boy, mamma,' she muttered, drowsily, at +Mildred's disturbing touch. Olive was dreaming of her mother. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +A YOUTHFUL DRACO AND SOLON + + 'But thoughtless words may bear a sting + Where malice hath no place, + May wake to pain some secret sting + Beyond thy power to trace. + When quivering lips, and flushing cheek, + The spirit's agony bespeak, + Then, though thou deem thy brother weak, + Yet soothe his soul to peace.'--S. A. Storrs. + + +Things certainly seemed at sixes and sevens, as Roy phrased it, the next +morning. The severe emotions of the previous night had resulted in +Olive's case in a miserable sick headache, which would not permit her to +raise her head from the pillow. Mildred, who had rightly interpreted the +meaning of the wistful glance that followed her to the door, had +resolved to take the first opportunity of speaking to her nephews +separately, and endeavouring to soften their aggrieved feelings towards +their sister; by a species of good fortune she met Roy coming out of his +father's room. + +Roy had slept off his mighty mood, and kicked away his sullenness, and +an hour of Polly's sunshiny influence had restored him to good humour; +and though his brow clouded a little at his aunt's first words, and he +broke into a bar of careless whistling in a low and displeased key at +the notion of her meditation, yet his better feelings were soon wrought +upon by a hint of Olive's sufferings, and he consented, though a little +condescendingly, to be the bearer of his own embassage of peace. + +Olive's heavy eyes filled up with tears when she saw him. + +'Dear Rex, this is so kind.' + +'I am sorry your head is so bad, Livy,' was the evasive answer, in a +sort of good-natured growl. Roy thought it would not do to be too +amiable at first. '"You do look precious bad to be sure," as the hangman +said to the gentleman he afterwards throttled. Take my advice, Livy,' +seating himself astride the rocking-chair, and speaking confidentially, +'medlars, spelt with either vowel, are very rotten things, and though I +would not joke for worlds on such an occasion, it behoves us to stick to +our national proverbs, and, as you know as well as I, a burnt child +dreads the fire.' + +'I will try to remember, Rex; I will, indeed; but please make Cardie +think I meant it for the best.' + +'It was the worst possible best,' replied Roy, gravely, 'and shows what +weak understandings you women have--part of the present company +excepted, Aunt Milly. "Age before honesty," and all that sort of thing, +you know.' + +'You incorrigible boy, how dare you be so rude?' + +'Don't distress the patient, Aunt Milly. What a weak-eyed sufferer you +look, Livy--regularly down in the doleful doldrums. You must have a +strong dose of Polly to cheer you up--a grain of quicksilver for every +scruple.' + +Olive smiled faintly. 'Oh, Rex, you dear old fellow, are you sure you +forgive me?' + +'Very much, thank you,' returned Roy, with a low bow from the +rocking-chair. 'And shall be much obliged by your not mentioning it +again.' + +'Only one word, just----' + +'Hush,' in a stentorian whisper, 'on your peril not an utterance--not +the ghostly semblance of a word. Aunt Milly, is repentance always such a +painful and distressing disorder? Like the immortal Rosa Dartle, "I only +ask for information." I will draw up a diagnosis of the symptoms for the +benefit of all the meddlesome Matties of futurity--No, you are right, +Livy,' as a sigh from Olive reached him; 'she was not a nice character +in polite fiction, wasn't Matty--and then show it to Dr. John. Let me +see; symptoms, weak eyes and reddish lids, a pallid exterior, with black +lines and circles under the eyes, not according to Euclid--or Cocker--a +tendency to laugh nervously at the words of wisdom, which, the +conscience reprobating, results in an imbecile grin.' + +'Oh, Rex, do--please don't--my head does ache so--and I don't want to +laugh.' + +'All hysteria, and a fresh attack of scruples--that quicksilver must be +administered without delay, I see--hot and cold fits--aguish symptoms, +and a tendency to incoherence and extravagance, not to say +lightheadedness--nausea, excited by the very thought of Dr. Murray--and +a restless desire to misplace words--"do--please don't," being a fair +sample. I declare, Livy, the disease is as novel as it is interesting.' + +Mildred left Olive cheered in spite of herself, but with a fresh access +of pain, and went in search of Richard. + +He was sitting at the little table writing. He looked up rather moodily +as his aunt entered. + +'Breakfast seems late this morning, Aunt Milly. Where is Rex?' + +'I left him in Olive's room, my dear;' and as Richard frowned, 'Olive +has been making herself ill with crying, and has a dreadful headache, +and Roy was kind enough to go and cheer her up.' + +No answer, only the scratching of the quill pen rapidly traversing the +paper. + +Mildred stood irresolute for a moment and watched him; there was no +softening of the fine young face. Chriss was right when she said +Richard's lips closed as though they were iron. + +'I was sorry to hear what an uncomfortable evening you all had last +night, Richard. I should hardly have enjoyed myself, if I had known how +things were at home.' + +'Ignorance is bliss, sometimes. I am glad you had a pleasant evening, +Aunt Milly. I was sorry I could not meet you. I told Rex to go.' + +'I found Rex kicking up his heels in the porch instead. Never mind,' as +Richard looked annoyed. 'Dr. Heriot brought me home. But, Richard, dear, +I am more sorry than I can say about this sad misunderstanding between +you and Olive.' + +'Aunt Milly, excuse me, but the less said about that the better.' + +'Poor girl! I know how her interference has offended you; it was +ill-judged, but, indeed, it was well meant. You have no conception, +Richard, how dearly Olive loves you.' + +The pen remained poised above the paper a moment, and then, in spite of +his effort, the pent-up storm burst forth. + +'Interference! unwarrantable impertinence! How dare she betray me to my +father?' + +'Betray you, Richard?' + +'The very thing I was sparing him! The thing of all others I would not +have had him know for worlds! How did she know? What right had she to +guess my most private feelings! It is past all forbearance; it is enough +to disgust one.' + +'It is hard to bear, certainly; but, Richard, the fault is after all a +trifling one; the worst construction one can put on it is error of +judgment and a simple want of tact; she had no idea she was harming +you.' + +'Harming me!' still more stormily; 'I shall never get over it. I have +lost caste in my father's opinion; how will he be ever able to trust me +now? If she had but given me warning of her intention, I should not be +in this position. All these months of labour gone for nothing. +Questioned, treated as a child--but, were he twenty times my father, I +should refuse to be catechised;' and Richard took up his pen again, and +went on writing, but not before Mildred had seen positive tears of +mortification had sprung to his eyes. They made her feel softer to +him--such a lad, too--and motherless--and yet so hard and +impracticable--mannish, indeed!' + +She stooped over him, even venturing to lay a hand on his shoulder. +'Dear Cardie, if you feel she has injured you so seriously, there is all +the greater need of forgiveness. You cannot refuse it to one so truly +humble. She is already heart-broken at the thought she may have caused +mischief.' + +'Are you her ambassadress, Aunt Milly?' + +'No; you know your sister better. She would not have ventured--at +least----' + +'I thought not,' he returned coldly. 'I wish her no ill, but, I confess, +I am hardly in the mood for true forgiveness just now. You see I am no +saint, Aunt Milly,' with a sneer, that sat ill on the handsome, careworn +young face, 'and I am above playing the hypocrite. Tender messages are +not in my line, and I am sorry to say I have not Roy's forgiving +temper.' + +'Dear Rex, he is a pattern to us all,' thought Mildred, but she wisely +forbore making the irritating comparison; it would certainly not have +lightened Richard's dark mood. With an odd sort of tenacity he seemed +dwelling on his aunt's last words. + +'You are wrong in one thing, Aunt Milly. I do not know my sister. I know +Rex, and love him with all my heart; and I understand the foolish baby +Chriss, but Olive is to me simply an enigma.' + +'Because you have not attempted to solve her.' + +'Most enigmas are tiresome, and hardly worth the trouble of solving,' he +returned calmly. + +'Richard! your own sister! for shame!' indignantly from Mildred. + +'I cannot help it, Aunt Milly; Olive has always been perfectly +incomprehensible to me. She is the worst sister, and, as far as I can +judge, the worst daughter I ever knew. In my opinion she has simply no +heart.' + +'Perhaps I had better leave you, Richard; you are not quite yourself.' + +The quiet reproof in Mildred's gentlest tones seemed to touch him. + +'I am sorry if I grieve you, Aunt Milly. I wish myself that we had never +entered on this subject.' + +'I wish it with all my heart, Richard; but I had no idea my own nephew +could be so hard.' + +'Unhappiness and want of sympathy make a man hard, Aunt Milly. But, all +the same,' speaking with manifest effort, 'I am making a bad return for +your kindness.' + +'I wish you would let me be kind,' she returned, earnestly. 'Nay, my +dear boy,' as an impatient frown crossed his face, 'I am not going to +renew a vexed subject. I love Olive too well to have her unjustly +censured, and you are too prejudiced and blinded by your own troubles to +be capable of doing her justice. I only want'--here Mildred paused and +faltered--'remember the bruised reed, Richard, and the mercy promised to +the merciful. When we come to our last hour, Cardie, and our poor little +life-torch is about to be extinguished, I think we shall be thankful if +no greater sins are written up against us than want of tact and the +error of judgment that comes from over-conscientiousness and a too great +love;' and without looking at his face, or trusting herself to say more, +Mildred turned to the breakfast-table, where he shortly afterwards +joined her. + +Olive was in such a suffering condition all the morning that she needed +her aunt's tenderest attention, and Mildred did not see her brother till +later in the day. + +The reaction caused by 'the Royal magnanimity,' as Mildred phrased it to +Dr. Heriot afterwards, had passed into subsequent depression as the +hours passed on, and no message reached her from the brother she loved +but too well. Mildred feigned for a long time not to notice the weary, +wistful looks that followed her about the room, especially as she knew +Olive's timidity would not venture on direct questioning, but the sight +of tears stealing from under the closed lids caused her to relent. Roy's +prescription of quicksilver had wholly failed. Polly, saddened and +mystified by the sorrowful spectacle of three-piled woe, forgot all her +saucy speeches, and blundered over her sympathising ones. And Chrissy +was even worse; she clattered about the room in her thick boots, and +talked loudly in the crossest possible key about people being stupid +enough to have feelings and make themselves ill about nothing. Chriss +soon got her dismissal, but as Mildred returned a little flushed from +the summary ejectment which Chriss had playfully tried to dispute, she +stooped over the bed and whispered-- + +'Never mind, dear, it could not be helped; has it made your head worse?' + +'Only a little. Chriss is always so noisy.' + +'Shall we have Polly back? she is quieter and more accustomed to +sickrooms.' + +'No, thank you; I like being alone with you best, Aunt Milly, only--' +here a large tear dropped on the coverlid. + +'You must not fret then, or your nurse will scold. No, indeed, Olive. I +know what you are thinking about, but I don't know that having you ill +on my hands will greatly mend matters.' + +'Cardie,' whispered Olive, unable to endure the suspense any longer, +'did you give him my message?' + +'I told him you were far from well; but you know as well as I do, Olive, +that there is no dealing with Cardie when he is in one of these +unreasonable moods; we must be patient and give him time.' + +'I know what you mean, Aunt Milly--you think he will never forgive me.' + +'I think nothing of the kind; you must not be so childish, Olive,' +returned Mildred, with a little wholesome severity. 'I wish you would be +a good sensible girl and go to sleep.' + +'I will try,' she returned, in a tone of languid obedience; 'but I have +such an ache here,' pressing her hand to her heart, 'such an odd sort of +sinking, not exactly pain. I think it is more unhappiness and----' + +'That is because the mind acts and reacts on the body; you must quiet +yourself, Olive, and put this unlucky misunderstanding out of your +thoughts. Remember, after all, who it is "who maketh men to be of one +mind in a house;" you have acted for the best and without any selfish +motives, and you may safely leave the disentangling of all this +difficulty to Him. No, you must not talk any more,' as Olive seemed +eager to speak; 'you are flushed and feverish, and I mean to read you to +sleep with my monotonous voice;' and in spite of the invalid's +incredulous look Mildred so far kept her word that Olive first lost +whole sentences, and then vainly tried to fix her attention on others, +and at last thought she was in Hillbeck woods and that some doves were +cooing loudly to her, at which point Mildred softly laid down the book +and stole from the room. + +As she stood for a moment by the lobby window she saw her brother was +taking his evening's stroll in the churchyard, and hastened to join him. +He quickened his steps on seeing her, and inquired anxiously after +Olive. + +'She is asleep now, but I have not thought her looking very well for the +last two or three days,' answered his sister. 'I do not think Olive is +as strong as the others--she flags sadly at times.' + +'All this has upset her; they have told you, I suppose, Mildred?' + +'Olive told me last night' + +'I do not know that I have ever received a greater shock except one. I +hardly had an idea myself how much my hopes were fixed upon that boy, +but I am doomed to disappointment.' + +'It seems to me he is scarcely to be blamed; think how young he is, only +nineteen, and with such abilities.' + +'Poor lad; if he only knew how little I blame him,' returned his father +with a groan. 'It only shows the amount of culpable neglect of which I +have been guilty, throwing him into the society of such a man; but +indeed I was not aware till lately that Macdonald was little better than +a free-thinker.' + +Mildred looked shocked--things were even worse than she thought. + +'I fancy he has drifted into extremes during the last year or two, for +though always a little slippery in his Church views, he had not +developed any decided rationalistic tendency; but Betha, poor darling, +always disliked him; she said once, I remember, that he was not a good +companion for our boys. I do not think she mentioned Richard in +particular.' + +'Olive told me she had.' + +'Perhaps so; she was always so keenly alive to what concerned him. He +was my only rival, Milly,' with a sad smile. 'No mother could have been +prouder of her boy than she was of Cardie. I am bound to say he deserved +it, for he was a good son to her; at least,' with a stifled sigh, 'he +did not withhold his confidence from his mother.' + +'You found him impracticable then, Arnold?' + +He shook his head sadly. + +'The sin lies on my own head, Milly. I have neglected my children, +buried myself in my own pursuits and sorrow, and now I am sorely +punished. My son refuses the confidence which his father actually +stooped to entreat,' and there was a look of such suppressed anguish on +Mr. Lambert's face that Mildred could hardly refrain from tears. + +'Richard is always so good to you,' she said at last. + +'Do I not tell you I blame myself and not the boy that there is this +barrier between us! but to know that my son is in trouble which he will +not permit me to share, it is very hard, Mildred.' + +'It is wrong, Arnold.' + +'Where has the lad inherited his proud spirit! his mother was so very +gentle, and I was always alive to reason. I must confess he was +perfectly respectful, not to say filial in his manner, was grieved to +distress me, would have suffered anything rather than I should have been +so harassed; but it was not his fault that people had meddled in his +private concerns; you would have thought he was thirty at least.' + +'I am sure he meant what he said; there is no want of heart in Richard.' + +'He tried to smoothe me over, I could see, hoped that I should forget +it, and would esteem it a favour if I would not make it a matter of +discussion between us. He had been a little unsettled, how much he +refused to say. He could wish with me that he had never been thrown so +much with Macdonald, as doubts take seed as rapidly as thistledown; but +when I urged and pressed him to repose his doubts in me, as I might +possibly remove them, he drew back and hesitated, said he was not +prepared, he would rather not raise questions for which there might not +be sufficient reply; he thought it better to leave the weeds in a dark +corner where they could trouble no one; he wished to work it out for +himself--in fact, implied that he did not want my help.' + +'I think you must have misunderstood him, Arnold. Who could be better +than his own father, and he a clergyman?' + +'Many, my dear; Heriot, for example. I find Heriot is not quite so much +in the dark as I supposed, though he treats it less seriously than we +do; he says it is no use forcing confidence, and that Cardie is peculiar +and resents being catechised, and he advises me to send him to Oxford +without delay, that he may meet men on his own level and rub against +other minds; but I feel loath to do so, I am so in the dark about him. +Heriot may be right, or it may be the worst possible thing.' + +'What did Richard say himself?' + +'He seemed relieved at my proposing it, thanked me, and jumped at the +idea, begged that he might go after Christmas; he was wasting his time +here, looked pleased and dubious when I proposed his reading for the +bar, and then his face fell--I suppose at the thought of my +disappointment, for he coloured and said hurriedly that there was no +need of immediate decision; he must make up his mind finally whether he +should ever take holy orders. At present it was more than probable +that----' + +'"Say at once it is impossible," I interrupted, for the thought of such +sacrilege made me angry. "No, father, do not say that," he returned, and +I fancied he was touched for the moment. "Don't make up your mind that +we are both to disappoint you. I only want to be perfectly sure that I +am no hypocrite--that at any rate I am true in what I do. I think she +would like that best, father," and then I knew he meant his mother.' + +'Dear Arnold, I am not sure after all that you need be unhappy about +your boy.' + +'I do not distrust his rectitude of purpose; I only grieve over his +pride and inflexibility--they are not good bosom-companions to a young +man. Well, wherever he goes he is sure of his father's prayers, though +it is hard to know that one's son is a stranger. Ah, there comes Heriot, +Milly. I suppose he thinks we all want cheering up, as it is not his +usual night.' + +Mildred had already guessed such was the case, and was very grateful for +the stream of ready talk that, at supper-time, carried Polly and Chriss +with it. Roy had recovered his spirits, but he seemed to consider it a +duty to preserve a subdued and injured exterior in his father's +presence; it showed remorse for past idleness, and was a delicate +compliment to the absent Livy; while Richard sat by in grave +taciturnity, now and then breaking out into short sentences when silence +was impossible, but all the time keenly cognisant of his father's every +look and movement, and observant of his every want. + +Dr. Heriot followed Mildred out of the room with a half-laughing inquiry +how she had fared during the family gale. + +'It is no laughing matter, I assure you; we are all as uncomfortable as +possible.' + +'When Greek meets Greek, you know the rest. You have no idea how +dogmatical and disagreeable Mr. Lambert can make himself at times.' + +This was a new idea to Mildred, and was met with unusual indignation. + +'Parents have a notion they can enforce confidence--that the very +relationship instils it. Here is the vicar groaning over his son's +unfilial reticence and breaking his heart over a fit of very youthful +stubbornness which calls itself manly pride, and Richard all the while +yearning after his father, but bitter at being treated and schooled like +a child. I declare I take Richard's part in this.' + +'You ought not to blame my brother,' returned Mildred in a low voice. + +'He blames himself, and rightly too. He had no business to have such a +man about the house. Richard is a cantankerous puppy not to confide in +his father. But what's the good of leading a horse to the water?--you +can't make him drink.' + +'I begin to think you are right about Richard,' sighed Mildred; 'one +cannot help being fond of him, but he is very unsatisfactory. I am +afraid I shall never make any impression.' + +'Then no one will. Fie! Miss Lambert, I detect a whole world of +disappointment in that sigh. What has become of your faith? Half Dick's +faultiness comes from having an old head on young shoulders; in my +opinion he's worth half a dozen Penny-royals rolled in one.' + +'Dr. Heriot, how can you! Rex has the sweetest disposition in the world. +I strongly suspect he is his father's favourite.' + +'Have you just found that out? It would have done you good to have seen +the vicar gloating over Roy's daubs this afternoon, as though they were +treasures of art; the rogue actually made him believe that his +coffee-coloured clouds, with ragged vermilion edges, were sublime +effects. I quite pleased him when I assured him they were supernatural +in the truest sense of the word. He wiped his eyes actually, over the +gipsy sibyl that I call Roy's gingerbread queen. What a rage the lad put +himself in when I said I had never seen such a golden complexion except +at a fair booth or in very bad cases of jaundice.' + +'How you do delight to tease that boy!' + +'Isn't it too bad--ruffling the wings of my "sweet Whistler," as I call +him. He is the sort of boy all you women spoil. He only wants a little +more petting to become as effeminate as heart can wish. I am half afraid +that I shall miss his bright face when a London studio engulfs him.' + +'You think my brother will give him his way, then?' + +'He has no choice. Besides, he quite believes he has an unfledged Claude +Lorraine or Salvator Rosa on his hands. I believe Polly's Dad Fabian is +to be asked, and the matter regularly discussed. Poor Lambert! he will +suffer a twinge or two before he delivers the boy into the hands of the +Bohemians. He turned quite pale when I hinted a year in Rome; but there +seems no reason why Roy should not have a regular artistic education; +and, after all, I believe the lad has some talent--some of his smaller +sketches are very spirited.' + +'I thought so myself,' replied Mildred; and the subject of their +conversation appearing at this moment, the topic was dropped. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +RICHARD COEUR-DE LION + + 'What is life, father?' + 'A battle, my child, + Where the strongest lance may fail; + Where the wariest eyes may be beguiled, + And the stoutest heart may quail; + Where the foes are gathered on every hand + And rest not day or night, + And the feeble little ones must stand + In the thickest of the fight.'--Adelaide Anne Procter. + + +The next day the vicarage had not regained its wonted atmosphere of +quiet cheerfulness, which had been its normal condition since Mildred's +arrival. + +In vain had 'the sweet Whistler' haunted the narrow lobby outside +Olive's room, where, with long legs dangling from the window-seat, he +had warbled through the whole of 'Bonnie Dundee' and 'Comin' thro' the +Rye;' after which, helping himself _ad libitum_ from the old-fashioned +bookcase outside Mildred's chamber, he had read through the whole index +of the _Shepherd's Guide_ with a fine nasal imitation of Farmer +Tallentire. + +'Roy, how can you be so absurd?' + +'Shut up, Contradiction; don't you see I am enlightening Aunt Milly's +mind--clearing it of London fogs? Always imbibe the literature of your +country. People living on the fellside will find this a useful handbook +of reference, containing "a proper delineation of the usual horn and +ear-marks of all the members' sheep, extending from Bowes and Wensley +dale to Sedbergh in Yorkshire, from Ravenstone-dale and Brough to +Gillumholme in Westmorland, from Crossfell and Kirkoswold----"' + +Here, Chriss falling upon the book, the drawling monotone was quenched, +and a sharp scuffle ensued, in which Royal made his escape, betaking +himself during the remainder of the day to his glass studio and the +society of congenial canaries. + +The day was intensely hot; Olive's headache had yielded at last to +Mildred's treatment, but she seemed heavy and languid and dragged +herself with difficulty to the dinner-table, shocking every one but +Richard with her altered appearance. + +Richard had so far recovered his temper that he had made up his mind +with some degree of magnanimity to ignore (at least outwardly) what had +occurred. He kissed Olive coolly when she entered, and hoped, somewhat +stiffly, that her head was better; but he took no notice of the yearning +look in the dark eyes raised to his, though it haunted him long +afterwards, neither did he address her again; and Mildred was distressed +to find that Olive scarcely touched her food, and at last crept away +before half the meal was over, with the excuse that her head was aching +again, but in reality unable to bear the chill restraint of her +brother's presence. + +Mildred found her giddy and confused, and yet unwilling to own herself +anything but well, and with a growing sense of despondency and +hopelessness that made her a trying companion for a hot afternoon. She +talked Mildred and herself into a state of drowsiness at last, from +which the former was roused by hearing Ethel Trelawny's voice on the +terrace below. + +Mildred was thankful for any distraction, and the sight of the tall +figure in the riding-habit, advancing so gracefully to meet her, was +especially refreshing, though Ethel accosted her with unusual gravity, +and hoped she would not be in the way. + +'Papa has ridden over to Appleby, and will call for me on his return. I +started with the intention of going with him, but the afternoon is so +oppressive that I repented of my determination; will you give me a cup +of tea instead, Mildred?' + +'Willingly,' was the cheerful answer; and as she gave the order, Ethel +seated herself on the steps leading down to the small smooth-shaven +croquet-lawn, and, doffing her hat and gauntlets, amused herself with +switching the daisy-heads with her jewelled riding-whip until Mildred +returned. + +'Is Olive better?' she asked abruptly, as Mildred seated herself beside +her with needlework. + +Mildred looked a little surprised as she answered, but a +delicately-worded question or two soon showed her that Ethel was not +entirely ignorant of the state of the case. She had met Richard in the +town on the previous day, and, startled at his gloomy looks, had coaxed +him, though with great difficulty, to accompany her home. + +'It was not very easy to manage him in such a mood, continued Ethel, +with her crisp laugh. 'I felt, as we were going up the Crofts, as though +I were Una leading her lion. He was dumb all the way; he contrived a +roar at the end, though--we were very nearly having our first quarrel.' + +'I am afraid you were hard on your knight then.' + +Ethel coloured a little disdainfully, but she coloured nevertheless. + +'Boys were not knighted in the old days, Mildred--they had to win their +spurs, though,' hesitating, 'few could boast of a more gallant exploit +perhaps;' but with a sudden sparkle of fun in her beautiful eyes, 'a +lionised Richard, not a Coeur-de-Lion, but the horrid, blatant beast +himself, must be distressful to any one but a Una.' + +'Poor Richard! you should have soothed instead of irritated him.' + +'Counter-irritants are good for some diseases; besides, it was his own +fault. He did not put me in possession of the real facts of the case +until the last, and then only scantily. When I begged to know more, he +turned upon me quite haughtily; it might have been Coeur-de-Lion +himself before Ascalon, when Berengaria chose to be inquisitive. Indeed +he gave me a strong hint that I could have no possible right to question +him at all. I felt inclined half saucily to curtsey to his mightiness, +only he looked such a sore-hearted Coeur-de-Lion.' + +'I like your choice of names; it fits Cardie somehow. I believe the +lion-hearted king could contrive to get into rages sometimes. If I were +mischievous, which I am not, I would not let you forget you have likened +yourself to Berengaria.' + +It was good to see the curl of Ethel's lips as she completely ignored +Mildred's speech. + +'I suppressed the mocking reverence and treated him to a prettily-worded +apology instead, which had the effect of bringing him 'off the stilts,' +as a certain doctor calls it. I tell him sometimes, by way of excuse, +that the teens are a stilted period in one's life.' + +'Do you mean that you are younger than Richard?' + +'I am three months his junior, as he takes care to remind me sometimes. +Did you ever see youth treading on the heels of bearded age as in +Richard's case, poor fellow? I am really very sorry for him,' she +continued, in a tone of such genuine feeling that Mildred liked her +better than ever. + +'I hope you told him so.' + +'Yes, I was very good to him when I saw my sarcasms hurt. I gave him tea +with my own fair hands, and was very plentiful in the matter of cream, +which I know to be his weakness; and I made Minto pet him and Lassie +jump up on his knee, and by and by my good temper was rewarded, and +"Richard was himself again!"' + +'Did he tell you he is going to Oxford after Christmas?' + +'Yes; I am thankful to hear it. What is the good of his rusting here, +when every one says he has such wonderful abilities? I hope you do not +think me wrong, Mildred,' blushing slightly, 'but I strongly advocated +his reading for the Bar.' + +Mildred sighed. + +'There is no doubt he wishes it above all things; he quite warmed into +eagerness as we discussed it. My father has always said that his clear +logical head and undoubted talents would be invaluable as a barrister. +He has no want of earnestness, but he somehow lacks the persuasive +eloquence that ought to be innate in the real priest; and yet when I +said as much he shook his head, and relapsed into sadness again, said +there was more than that, hinted at a rooted antipathy, then turned it +off by owning that he disliked the notion of talking to old women about +their souls; was sure he would be a cypher at a sickbed, good for +nothing but scolding the people all round, and thought writing a couple +of sermons a week the most wearisome work in the world--digging into +one's brains for dry matter that must not be embellished even by a few +harmless Latin and Greek quotations.' + +Mildred looked grave. 'I fear he dislikes the whole thing.' + +But Ethel interposed eagerly. 'You must not blame him if he be unfit by +temperament. He had far better be a rising barrister than a half-hearted +priest.' + +'I would sooner see him anything than that--a navvy rather.' + +'That is what I say,' continued Miss Trelawny, triumphant; 'and yet when +I hinted as much he threw up his head with quite a Coeur-de-Lion look, +and said, "Yes, I know, but you must not tempt me to break through my +father's wishes. If it can be done without sacrilege----" And then he +stopped, and asked if it were only the Westmorland old women were so +trying. I do call it very wrong, Mildred, that any bias should have been +put on his wishes in this respect, especially as in two more years +Richard knows he will be independent of his father.' And as Mildred +looked astonished at this piece of information, Ethel modestly returned +that she had been intimate so many years at the vicarage--at least with +the vicar and his wife and Richard--that many things came to her +knowledge. Both she and her father knew that part of the mother's money +had, with the vicar's consent, been settled on her boy, and Mildred, who +knew that a considerable sum had a few years before been left to Betha +by an eccentric uncle whom Mr. Lambert had inadvertently offended, and +that he had willed it exclusively for the use of his niece and her +children, was nevertheless surprised to hear that while a moderate +portion had been reserved to her girls, Roy's share was only small, +while Richard at one-and-twenty would be put in possession of more than +three hundred a year. + +'Between three and four, I believe Mr. Lambert told my father. Roy is to +have a hundred a year, and the girls about two thousand apiece. Richard +will have the lion's share. I believe this same uncle took a fancy to +Roy's saucy face, and left a sum of money to be appropriated to his +education. Richard says there will be plenty for a thorough art +education and a year at Rome; he hinted too that if Roy failed of +achieving even moderate success in his profession, there was sufficient +for both. Anything rather than Roy should be crossed in his ambition! I +call that generous, Mildred.' + +'And I; but I am a little surprised at my brother making such a point of +Richard being a clergyman; he is very reticent at times. Come, Ethel, +you look mysterious. I suppose you can explain even this?' + +'I can; but at least you are hardly such a stranger to your own nephews +and nieces as not to be aware of the worldly consideration there is +involved.' + +'You forget,' returned Mildred, sadly, 'what a bad correspondent my +brother is; Betha was better, but it was not often the busy house-mother +could find leisure for long chatty letters. You are surely not speaking +of what happened when Richard was fourteen?' + +Ethel nodded and continued: + +'That accounts of course for his being in such favour at the Palace. +They say the Bishop and Mrs. Douglas would do anything for him--that +they treat him as though he were their own son; Rolf and he are to go to +the same college--Magdalen, too, though Mr. Lambert wanted him to go to +Queen's; they say, if anything happened to Mr. Lambert, that Richard +would be sure of the living; in a worldly point of view it certainly +sounds better than a briefless barrister.' + +'Ethel, you must not say such things. I cannot allow that my brother +would be influenced by such worldly considerations tempting as they +are,' replied Mildred, indignantly. + +But Ethel laid her hand softly on her arm. + +'Dear Mildred, this is only one side of the question; that something far +deeper is involved I know from Richard himself; I heard it years ago, +when Cardie was younger, and had not learned to be proud and cold with +his old playmate,' and Ethel's tone was a little sad. + +'May I know?' asked Mildred, pleadingly; 'there is no fear of Richard +ever telling me himself.' + +Ethel hesitated slightly. + +'He might not like it; but no, there can be no harm; you ought to know +it, Mildred; until now it seemed so beautiful--Richard thought so +himself.' + +'You mean that Betha wished it as well as Arnold?' + +'Ah! you have guessed it. What if the parents, in the fulness of their +fresh young happiness, desired to dedicate their first-born to the +priesthood, would not this better fit your conception of your brother's +character, always so simple and unconventional?' + +A gleam of pleasure passed over Mildred's face, but it was mixed with +pain. A fresh light seemed thrown on Richard's difficulty; she could +understand the complication now. With Richard's deep love for his +mother, would he not be tempted to regard her wishes as binding, all the +more that it involved sacrifice on his part? + +'It might be so, but Richard should not feel it obligatory to carry out +his parents' wish if there be any moral hindrance,' she continued +thoughtfully. + +'That is what I tell him. I have reason to know that it was a favourite +topic of conversation between the mother and son, and Mrs. Lambert often +assured me, with tears in her eyes, that Richard was ardent to follow +his father's profession. I remember on the eve of his confirmation that +he told me himself that he felt he was training for the noblest vocation +that could fall to the lot of man. Until two years ago there was no hint +of repugnance, not a whisper of dissent; no wonder all this is a blow to +his father!' + +'No, indeed!' assented Mildred. + +'Can you guess what has altered him so?' continued Ethel, with a +scrutinising glance. 'I have noticed a gradual change in him the last +two or three years; he is more reserved, less candid in every way. I +confess I have hardly understood him of late.' + +'He has not recovered his mother's death,' returned Mildred, evasively; +it was a relief to her that Ethel was in ignorance of the real cause of +the change in Richard. She herself was the only person who held the full +clue to the difficulty; Richard's reserve had baffled his father. Mr. +Lambert had no conception of the generous scruples that had hindered his +son's confidence, and prevented him from availing himself of his +tempting offer; and as she thought of the Coeur-de-Lion look with +which he had repelled Ethel's glowing description, a passionate pity +woke in her heart, and for the moment she forgave the chafed bitter +temper, in honest consideration for the noble struggle that preceded it. + +'What were you telling me about Richard and young Douglas?' she asked, +after a minute's pause, during which Ethel, disappointed by her +unexpected reserve, had relapsed into silence. 'Betha was ill at the +time, or I should have had a more glowing description than Arnold's +brief paragraph afforded me. I know Richard jumped into the mill-stream +and pulled one of the young Douglases out; but I never heard the +particulars.' + +'You astonish me by your cool manner of talking about it. It was an act +of pure heroism not to be expected in a boy of fourteen; all the county +rang with it for weeks afterwards. He and Rolf were playing down by the +mill, at Dalston, a few miles from the Palace, and somehow Rolf slipped +over the low parapet: you know the mill-stream: it has a dangerous eddy, +and there is a dark deep pool that makes you shudder to look at: the +miller's man heard Richard's shout of distress, but he was at the +topmost story, and long before he could have got to the place the lad +must have been swept under the wheel. Richard knew this, and the gallant +little fellow threw off his jacket and jumped in. Rolf could not swim, +but Richard struck out with all his might and caught him by his sleeve +just as the eddy was sucking him in. Richard was strong even then, and +he would have managed to tow him into shallow water but for Rolf's +agonised struggles; as it was, he only just managed to keep his head +above water, and prevent them both from sinking until help came. +Braithwaite had not thrown the rope a moment too soon, for, as he told +the Bishop afterwards, both the boys were drifting helplessly towards +the eddy. Richard's strength was exhausted by Rolf's despairing +clutches, but he had drawn Rolf's head on his breast and was still +holding him up; he fainted as they were hauled up the bank, and as it +was, his heroism cost him a long illness. I have called him +Coeur-de-Lion ever since.' + +'Noble boy!' returned Mildred, with sparkling eyes; but they were dim +too. + +'There, I hear the horses! how quickly time always passes in your +company, Mildred. Good-bye; I must not give papa time to get one foot +out of the stirrup, or he will tell me I have kept him waiting;' and +leaving Mildred to follow her more leisurely, Ethel gathered up her long +habit and quickly disappeared. + +Later that evening as Dr. Heriot passed through the dusky courtyard, he +found Mildred waiting in the porch. + +'How late you are; I almost feared you were not coming to-night,' she +said anxiously, in answer to his cheery 'good evening.' + +'Am I to flatter myself that you were watching for me then?' he +returned, veiling a little surprise under his usual light manner. 'How +are all the tempers, Miss Lambert? I hope I am not required to call +spirits blue and gray from the vasty deep, as I am not sure that I feel +particularly sportive to-night.' + +'I wanted to speak to you about Olive,' returned Mildred, quietly +ignoring the banter. 'She does not seem well. The headache was fully +accounted for yesterday, but I do not like the look of her to-night. I +felt her pulse just now, and it was quick, weak, and irregular, and she +was complaining of giddiness and a ringing in her ears.' + +'I have noticed she has not looked right for some days, especially on +St. Peter's day. Do you wish me to see her?' he continued, with a touch +of professional gravity. + +'I should be much obliged if you would,' she returned, gratefully; 'she +is in my room at present, as Chriss's noise disturbs her. Your visit +will put her out a little, as any questioning about her health seems to +make her irritable.' + +'She will not object to an old friend; anyhow, we must brave her +displeasure. Will you lead the way, Miss Lambert?' + +They found Olive sitting huddled up in her old position, and looking wan +and feverish. She shaded her eyes a little fretfully from the candle +Mildred carried, and looked at Dr. Heriot rather strangely and with some +displeasure. + +'How do you feel to-night, Olive?' he asked kindly, possessing himself +with some difficulty of the dry languid hand, and scrutinising with +anxiety the sunken countenance before him. Two days of agitation and +suppressed illness had quite altered the girl's appearance. + +'I am well--at least, only tired--there is nothing the matter with me. +Aunt Milly ought not to have troubled you,' still irritably. + +'Aunt Milly knows trouble is sometimes a pleasure. You are not well, +Olive, or you would not be so cross with your old friend.' + +She hesitated, put up her hand to her head, and looked ready to burst +into tears. + +'Come,' he continued, sitting down beside her, and speaking gently as +though to a child, 'you are ill or unhappy--or both, and talking makes +your head ache.' + +'Yes,' she returned, mechanically, 'it is always aching now, but it is +nothing.' + +'Most people are not so stoical. You must not keep things so much to +yourself, Olive. If you would own the truth I daresay you have felt +languid and disinclined to move for several days?' + +'I daresay. I cannot remember,' she faltered; but his keen, steady +glance was compelling her to rouse herself. + +'And you have not slept well, and your limbs ache as though you were +tired and bruised, and your thoughts get a little confused and +troublesome towards evening.' + +'They are always that,' she returned, heavily; but she did not refuse to +answer the few professional questions that Dr. Heriot put. His grave +manner, and the thoughtful way in which he watched Olive, caused Mildred +some secret uneasiness; it struck her that the girl was a little +incoherent in her talk. + +'Well--well,' he said, cheerfully, laying down the hand, 'you must give +up the fruitless struggle and submit to be nursed well again. Get her to +bed, Miss Lambert, and keep her and the room as cool as possible. She +will remain here, I suppose,' he continued abruptly, and as Mildred +assented, he seemed relieved. 'I will send her some medicine at once. I +shall see you downstairs presently,' he finished pointedly; and Mildred, +who understood him, returned in the affirmative. She was longing to have +Dr. Heriot's opinion; but she was too good a nurse not to make the +patient her first consideration. Supper was over by the time the draught +was administered, and Olive left fairly comfortable with Nan within +earshot. The girls had already retired to their rooms, and Dr. Heriot +was evidently waiting for Mildred, for he seemed absent and slightly +inattentive to the vicar's discourse. Richard, who was at work over some +of his father's papers, made no attempt to join in the conversation. + +Mr. Lambert interrupted himself on Mildred's entrance. + +'By the bye, Milly, have you spoken to Heriot about Olive?' + +'Yes, I have seen her, Mr. Lambert; her aunt was right; the girl is very +far from well.' + +'Nothing serious, I hope,' ejaculated the vicar, while Richard looked up +quickly from his writing. Dr. Heriot looked a little embarrassed. + +'I shall judge better to-morrow; the symptoms will be more decided; but +I am afraid--that is, I am nearly certain--that it is a touch of typhoid +fever.' + +The stifled exclamation came not from the vicar, but from the farthest +corner of the room. Mr. Lambert merely turned a little paler, and +clasped his hands. + +'God forbid, Heriot! That poor child!' + +'We shall know in a few hours for certain--she is ill, very ill I should +say.' + +'But she was with us, she dined with us to-day,' gasped Richard, unable +to comprehend what was the true state of the case. + +'It is not uncommon for people who are really ill of fever to go about +for some days until they can struggle with the feelings of illness no +longer. To-night there is slight confusion and incoherence, and the +ringing in the ears that is frequently the forerunner of delirium; she +will be a little wandering to-night,' he continued, turning to Mildred. + +'You must give me your instructions,' she returned, with the calmness of +one to whom illness was no novelty; but Mr. Lambert interrupted her. + +'Typhoid fever; the very thing that caused such mortality in the Farrer +and Bales' cottages last year.' + +'I should not be surprised if we find Olive has been visiting there of +late, and inhaling some of the poisonous gases. I have always said this +place is enough to breed a fever; the water is unwholesome, too, and she +is so careless that she may have forgotten how strongly I condemned it. +The want of waterworks, and the absence of the commonest precautions, +are the crying evils of a place like this.' And Dr. Heriot threw up his +head and began to pace the room, as was his fashion when roused or +excited, while he launched into bitter invectives against the suicidal +ignorance that set health at defiance by permitting abuses that were +enough to breed a pestilence. + +The full amount of the evil was as yet unknown to Mildred; but +sufficient detail was poured into her shrinking ear to justify Dr. +Heriot's indignation, and she was not a little shocked to find the happy +valley was not exempt from the taint of fatal ignorance and prejudice. + +'Your old hobby, Heriot,' said Mr. Lambert, with a faint smile; 'but at +least the Board of Guardians are taking up the question seriously now.' + +'How could they fail to do so after the last report of the medical +officer of health? We shall get our waterworks now, I suppose, through +stress of hard fighting; but----' + +'But my poor child----' interrupted Mr. Lambert, anxiously. + +Dr. Heriot paused in his restless walk. + +'Will do well, I trust, with her youth, sound constitution, and your +sister's good nursing. I was going to say,' he continued, turning to Mr. +Lambert, 'that with your old horror of fevers, you would be glad if the +others were to be removed from any possible contagion that might arise; +though, as I have already told you, that I cannot pronounce decidedly +whether it be the _typhus mitior_ or the other; in a few hours the +symptoms will be decided. But anyhow it is as well to be on the safe +side, and Polly and Chriss can come to me; we can find plenty of room +for Richard and Royal as well.' + +'You need not arrange for me--I shall stay with my father and Aunt +Milly,' returned Richard abruptly, tossing back the wave of dark hair +that lay on his forehead, and pushing away his chair. + +'Nay, Cardie, I shall not need you; and your aunt will find more leisure +for her nursing if you are all off her hands. I shall be easier too. +Heriot knows my old nervousness in this respect. + +'I shall not leave you, father,' was Richard's sole rejoinder; but his +father's affectionate and anxious glance was unperceived as he quickly +gathered up the papers and left the room. + +'I think Dick is right,' returned Dr. Heriot, cheerfully. 'The vicarage +need not be cleared as though it were the pestilence. Now, Miss Lambert, +I will give you a few directions, and then I must say good-night.' + +When Mildred returned to her charge, she found Richard standing by the +bedside, contemplating his sister with a grave, impassive face. Olive +did not seem to notice him; she was moving restlessly on her pillow, her +dark hair unbound and falling on her flushed face. Richard gathered it +up gently and looked at his aunt. + +'We may have to get rid of some of it to-morrow,' she whispered; 'what a +pity, it is so long and beautiful; but it will prevent her losing all. +You must not stay now, Richard; I fancy it disturbs her,' as Olive +muttered something drowsily, and flung her arms about a little wildly; +'leave her to me to-night, dear; I will come to you first thing +to-morrow morning, and tell you how she is.' + +'Thank you,' he replied, gratefully. + +Mildred was not wrong in her surmises that something like remorse for +his unkindness made him stoop over the bed with the softly uttered +'Good-night, Livy.' + +'Good-night,' she returned, drowsily. 'Don't trouble about me, Cardie;' +and with that he was fain to retire. + +Things continued in much the same state for days. Dr. Heriot's opinion +of the nature of the disease was fully confirmed. There was no abatement +of fever, but an increase of debility. Olive's delirium was never +violent--it was rather a restlessness and confusion of thought; she lay +for hours in a semi-somnolent state, half-muttering to herself, yet +without distinct articulation. Now and then a question would rouse her, +and she would give a rational answer; but she soon fell back into the +old drowsy state again. + +Her nights were especially troubled in this respect. In the day she was +comparatively quiet; but for many successive nights all natural sleep +departed from her, and her confused and incoherent talk was very painful +to hear. + +Mildred fancied that Richard's presence made her more restless than at +other times; but when she hinted this, he looked so pained that she +could not find it in her heart to banish him, especially as his ready +strength and assistance were a great comfort to her. Mildred had refused +all exterior help. Nan's watchful care was always available during her +hours of necessary repose, and Mildred had been so well trained in the +school of nursing, that a few hours' sound sleep would send her back to +her post rested and refreshed. Dr. Heriot's admiration of his model +nurse, as he called her, was genuine and loudly expressed; and he often +assured Mr. Lambert, when unfavourable symptoms set in, that if Olive +recovered it would be mainly owing to her aunt's unwearied nursing. + +Mildred often wondered what she would have done without Richard, as +Olive grew weaker, and the slightest exertion brought on fainting, or +covered her with a cold, clammy sweat. Richard's strong arms were of use +now to lift her into easier positions. Mildred never suffered him to +share in the night watches, for which she and Nan were all-sufficient; +but the last thing at night, and often before the early dawn, his pale +anxious face would be seen outside the door; and all through the day he +was ever at hand to render valuable assistance. Once Mildred was +surprised to hear her name softly called from the far end of the lobby, +and on going out she found herself face to face with Ethel Trelawny. + +'Oh, Ethel! this is very wrong. Your father----' + +'I told her so,' returned Richard, who looked half grateful and half +uneasy; 'but she would come--she said she must see you. Aunt Milly looks +pale,' he continued, turning to Ethel; 'but we cannot be surprised at +that--she gets so little sleep.' + +'You will be worn out, Mildred. Papa will be angry, I know; but I cannot +help it. I mean to stay and nurse Olive.' + +'My dear Ethel!' Richard uttered an incredulous exclamation; but Miss +Trelawny was evidently in earnest; her fine countenance looked pale and +saddened. + +'I can and must; do let me, Mildred. I have often stayed up all night +for my own pleasure.' + +'But you are so unused to illness--it cannot be thought of for a +moment,' ejaculated Richard in alarm. + +'Women nurse by instinct. I should look at Mildred--she would soon +teach me. Why do you all persist in treating me as though I were quite +helpless? Papa is wrong; typhoid fever is not infectious, and if it +were, what use am I to any one? My life is not of as much consequence as +Mildred's.' + +'There is always the risk of contagion, and--and--why will you always +speak of yourself so recklessly, Miss Trelawny?' interposed Richard in a +pained voice, 'when you know how precious your life is to us all;' but +Ethel turned from him impatiently. + +'Mildred, you will let me come?' + +'No, Ethel, indeed I cannot, though I am very grateful to you for +wishing it. Your father is your first consideration, and his wishes +should be your law.' + +'Papa is afraid of everything,' she pleaded; 'he will not let me go into +the cottages where there is illness, and----' + +'He is right to take care of his only child,' replied Mildred, calmly. + +Richard seemed relieved. + +'I knew you would say so, Aunt Milly; we are grateful--more grateful +than I can say, dear Miss Trelawny; but I knew it ought not to be.' + +'And you must not come here again without your father's permission,' +continued Mildred, gently, and taking her hands; 'we have to remember +sometimes that to obey is better than sacrifice, dear Ethel. I am +grieved to disappoint your generous impulse,' as the girl turned +silently away with the tears in her eyes. + +'Dr. Heriot said I should have no chance, and Richard was as bad. Well, +good-bye,' trying to rally her spirits as she saw Mildred looked really +pained. 'I envy you your labour of love, Mildred; it is sweet--it must +be sweet to be really useful to some one;' and the sigh that accompanied +her words evidently came from a deep place in Ethel Trelawny's heart. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE GATE AJAR + + Oh, live! + So endeth faint the low pathetic cry + Of love, whom death hath taught, love cannot die.' + + _Poems by the Author of 'John Halifax.'_ + + + 'His dews drop mutely on the hill, + His cloud above it saileth still, + Though on its slope men sow and reap: + More softly than the dew is shed, + Or cloud is floated overhead, + He giveth His beloved sleep.'--E. B. Browning. + + +The fever had run its course,--never virulent or excessive, there had +still been no abatement in the unfavourable symptoms, and, as the +critical days approached, Mildred's watchfulness detected an increased +gravity in Dr. Heriot's manner. Always assiduous in his attentions, they +now became almost unremitting; his morning and evening visits were +supplemented by a noonday one; by and by every moment he could snatch +from his other patients was spent by Olive's bedside. + +A silent oppression hung over the vicarage; anxious footsteps crept +stealthily up to the front door at all hours, with low-whispered +inquiries. Every morning and evening Mildred telegraphed signals to Roy +and Polly as they stood on the other side of the beck in Hillsbottom, +watching patiently for the white fluttering pendant that was to send +them away in comparative tranquillity. Sometimes Roy would climb the low +hill in Hillsbottom, and lie for hours, with his eyes fixed on the broad +projecting window, on the chance of seeing Mildred steal there for a +moment's fresh air. Roy, contrary to his usual light-heartedness, had +taken Olive's illness greatly to heart; the remembrance of his hard +words oppressed and tormented him. Chriss often kept him +company--Chriss, who grew crosser day by day with suppressed +unhappiness, and who vented her uncomfortable feelings in contradicting +everything and everybody from morning to night. + +One warm sunshiny afternoon, Mildred, who was sensible of unusual +languor and oppression, had just stolen to the window to refresh her +eyes with the soft green of the fellsides, when Dr. Heriot, who had been +standing thoughtfully by the bedside, suddenly roused himself and +followed her. + +'Miss Lambert, do you know I am going to assert my authority?' + +Mildred looked up inquiringly, but there was no answering smile on her +pale face. + +'I am going to forbid you this room for the next two hours. Indeed,' as +Mildred shook her head incredulously, 'I am serious in what I say; you +have just reached the limit of endurance, and an attack of faintness may +possibly be the result, if you do not follow my advice. An hour's fresh +air will send you back fit for your work.' + +'But Olive! indeed I cannot leave Olive, Dr. Heriot.' + +'Not in my care?' very quietly. 'Of course I shall remain here until you +return.' + +'You are very kind; but indeed--no--I cannot go; please do not ask me, +Dr. Heriot;' and Mildred turned very pale. + +'I do not ask, I insist on it,' in a voice Mildred never heard before +from Dr. Heriot. 'Can you not trust me?' he continued, relapsing into +his ordinary gentle tone. 'Believe me, I would not banish you but for +your own good. You know'--he hesitated; but the calm, quiet face seemed +to reassure him--'things can only go on like this for a few hours, and +we may have a very trying night before us. You will want all your +strength for the next day or two.' + +'You apprehend a change for the worse?' asked Mildred, drawing her +breath more quickly, but speaking in a tone as low as his, for Richard +was watching them anxiously from the other end of the room. + +'I do not deny we have reason to fear it,' he returned, evasively; 'but +there will be no change of any kind for some hours.' + +'I will go, then, if Richard will take me,' she replied, quietly; and +Richard rose reluctantly. + +'You must not bring her back for two hours,' was Dr. Heriot's parting +injunction, as Mildred paused by Olive's bedside for a last lingering +look. Olive still lay in the same heavy stupor, only broken from time to +time by the imperfect muttering. The long hair had all been cut off, and +only a dark lock or two escaped from under the wet cloths; the large +hollow eyes looked fixed and brilliant, while the parched and blackened +lips spoke of low, consuming fever. As Mildred turned away, she was +startled by the look of anguish that crossed Richard's face; but he +followed her without a word. + +It was a lovely afternoon in July, the air was full of the warm +fragrance of new-mown hay, the distant fells lay in purple shadow. As +they walked through Hillsbottom, Mildred's eyes were almost dazzled by +the soft waves of green upland shining in the sunshine. Clusters of pink +briar roses hung on every hedge; down by the weir some children were +wading among the shallow pools; farther on the beck widened, and flowed +smoothly between its wooded banks. By and by they came to a rough +footbridge, leading to a little lane, its hedgerows bordered with ferns, +and gay with rose-campion and soft blue harebells, while trails of +meadow-sweet scented the air; beyond, lay a beautiful meadow, belting +Podgill, its green surface gemmed with the starry eyebright, and golden +in parts with yellow trefoil and ragwort. + +Mildred stooped to gather, half mechanically, the blue-eyed gentian that +Richard was crushing under his foot; and then a specimen of the +soft-tinted campanella attracted her, its cluster of bell-shaped +blossoms towering over the other wildflowers. + +'Shall we go down into Podgill, Aunt Milly, it is shadier than this +lane?' and Mildred, who was revolving painful thoughts in her mind, +followed him, still silent, through the low-hanging woods, with its +winding beck and rough stepping-stones, until they came to a green +slope, spanned by the viaduct. + +'Let us sit down here, Richard; how quiet and cool it is!' and Mildred +seated herself on the grass, while Richard threw himself down beside +her. + +'How silent we have been, Richard. I don't think either of us cared to +talk; but Dr. Heriot was right--I feel refreshed already.' + +'I am glad we came then, Aunt Milly.' + +'I never knew any one so thoughtful. Richard, I want to speak to you; +did you ever find out that Olive wrote poetry?' + +Richard raised himself in surprise. + +'No, Aunt Milly.' + +'I want to show you this; it was written on a stray leaf, and I ventured +to capture it; it may help you to understand that in her own way Olive +has suffered.' + +Richard took the paper from her without a word; but Mildred noticed his +hand shook. Was it cruel thus to call his hardness to remembrance? For a +moment Mildred's soft heart wavered over the task she had set for +herself. + +It was scrawled in Olive's school-girl hand, and in some parts was hard +to decipher, especially as now and then a blot of teardrops had rendered +it illegible; but nevertheless Richard succeeded in reading it. + + 'How speed our lost in the Unknown Land, + Our dear ones gone to that distant strand? + Do they know that our hearts are sore + With longing for faces that never come, + With longing to hear in our silent home + The voices that sound no more? + There's a desolate look by the old hearth-stone, + That tells of some light of the household gone + To dwell with the ransomed band; + But none may follow their upward track, + And never, ah! never, a word comes back + To tell of the Unknown Land! + + 'We know by a gleam on the brow so pale, + When the soul bursts forth from its mortal veil, + And the gentle and good departs, + That the dying ears caught the first faint ring + Of the songs of praise that the angels sing; + But back to our yearning hearts + Comes never, ah! never, a word to tell + That the purified spirit we love so well + Is safe on the heavenly strand; + That the Angel of Death has another gem + To set in the star-decked diadem + Of the King of the Unknown Land! + + 'How speed our lost in the realms of air + We would ask--we would ask, Do they love us there? + Do they know that our hearts are sore, + That the cup of sorrow oft overflows, + And our eyes grow dim with weeping for those-- + For those who shall "weep no more "? + And when the Angel of Death shall call, + And earthly chains from about us fall, + Will they meet us with clasping hand? + But never, ah! never a voice replies + From the "many mansions" above the skies + To tell of the Unknown Land!'[1] + +[Footnote 1: H. M. B.] + +'Aunt Milly, why did you show me this? and Richard's eyes, full of +reproachful pain, fixed themselves somewhat sternly on her face. + +'Because I want you to understand. Look, there is another on the next +leaf; see, she has called it "A little while" and "for ever." My poor +girl, every word is so true of her own earnest nature.' + + '"For ever," they are fading, + Our beautiful, our bright; + They gladden us "a little while," + Then pass away from sight; + "A little while" we're parted + From those who love us best, + Who gain the goal before us + And enter into rest. + + 'Our path grows very lonely, + And still those words beguile, + And cheer our footsteps onward; + 'Tis but a little while. + 'A little while earth's sorrow,-- + Its burdens and its care, + Its struggles 'neath the crosses, + Which we of earth must bear. + + 'There's time to do and suffer-- + To work our Master's will, + But not for vain regretting + For thoughts or deeds of ill. + Too short to spend in weeping + O'er broken hopes and flowers, + For wandering and wasting, + Is this strange life of ours. + + 'Though, when our cares oppress us, + Earth's "little while" seems long, + If we would win the battle + We must be brave and strong. + And so with humble spirit, + But highest hopes and aim, + The goal so often longed for + We may perhaps attain. + + '"For ever" and "for ever" + To dwell among the blest, + Where sorrows never trouble + The deep eternal rest; + When one by one we gather + Beneath our Father's smile, + And Heaven's sweet "for ever" + Drowns earth's sad "little while."'[2] + +'Well, Richard?' + +[Footnote 2: H. M. B.] + +But there was no answer; only the buzzing of insects in giddy circles +broke the silence, mingled with the far-off twitter of birds. Only when +Mildred again looked up, the paper had fluttered to their feet, and +Richard had covered his face with his shaking hands. + +'Dear Cardie, forgive me; I did not mean to pain you like this.' + +'Aunt Milly,' in a voice so hoarse and changed that Mildred quite +started, 'if she die, if Olive die, I shall never know a moment's peace +again;' and the groan that accompanied the words wrung Mildred's tender +heart with compassion. + +'God forbid we should lose her, Richard,' she returned, gently. + +'Do not try to deceive me,' he returned, bitterly, in the same low, +husky tones. 'I heard what he said--what you both said--that it could +not go on much longer; and I saw his face when he thought he was alone. +There is no hope--none.' + +'Oh, Richard, hush,' replied Mildred, in uncontrollable agitation; +'while there is life, there is hope. Think of David, "While the child +was yet alive I fasted and wept;" he could not tell whether God meant to +be gracious to him or not. We will pray, you and I, that our girl may be +spared.' + +But Richard recoiled in positive horror. + +'I pray, Aunt Milly? I, who have treated her so cruelly? I, who have +flung hard words to her, who have refused to forgive her? I----' and he +hid his pale, convulsed face in his hands again. + +'But you have forgiven her now, you do her justice. You believe how +truly she loved, she will ever love you.' + +'Too late,' he groaned. 'Yes, I see it now, she was too good for us; we +made her unhappy, and God is taking her home to her mother.' + +'Then you will let her go, dear Cardie. Hush, it would break her heart +to see you so unhappy;' and Mildred knelt down on the grass beside him, +and stroked back the dark waves of hair tenderly. She knew the pent-up +anguish of weeks must have its vent, now that his stoical manhood had +broken down. Remorse, want of rest, deadly conflict and anxiety, had at +last overcome the barrier of his reserve; and, as he flung himself down +beside her, with his face hidden in the bracken, she knew the hot tears +were welling through his fingers. + +For a long time she sat beside him, till his agitation had subsided; and +then, in her low, quiet voice, she began to talk to him. She spoke of +Olive's purity and steadfastness of purpose, her self-devotedness and +power of love; and Richard raised his head to listen. She told him of +those Sunday afternoons spent by her mother's grave, that quiet hour of +communion bracing her for the jars and discords of the week. And she +hinted at those weary moods of perpetual self-torture and endless +scruple, which hindered all vigorous effort and clouded her youth. + +'A diseased sensibility and overmuch imagination have resulted in the +despondency that has so discouraged and annoyed you, Richard. She has +dwelt so long among shadows of her own raising, that she has grown a +weary companion to healthier minds; her very love is so veiled by +timidity that it has given you an impression of her coldness.' + +'Blind fool that I was,' he ejaculated. 'Oh, Aunt Milly, do you think +she can ever forgive me?' + +'There can be no question of forgiveness at all; do not distress her by +asking for it, Richard. Olive's heart is as simple as a little child's; +it is not capable of resentment. Tell her that you love her, and you +will make her happy.' + +Richard did not answer for a minute, his thoughts had suddenly taken a +new turn. + +'I never could tell how it was she read me so correctly,' he said at +last; 'her telling my father, and not me, was so incomprehensible.' + +'She did not dare to speak to you, and she was so unhappy; but, Richard, +even Olive does not hold the clue to all this trouble.' + +He started nervously, changed colour, and plucked the blades of grass +restlessly. But in his present softened mood, Mildred knew he would not +repulse her; trouble might be near at hand, but at least he would not +refuse her sympathy any longer. + +'Dear Cardie, your difficulty is a very real one, and only time and +prayerful consideration can solve it; but beware how you let the wishes +of your dead mother, dear and binding as they may be to you, prove a +snare to your conscience. Richard, I knew her well enough to be sure +that was the last thing she would desire.' + +The blood rushed to Richard's face, eager words rose to his lips, but he +restrained them; but the grateful gleam in his eyes spoke volumes. + +'That is your real opinion, Aunt Milly.' + +'Indeed it is. Unready hands, an unprepared heart, are not fit for the +sanctuary. I may wish with you that difficulties had not arisen, that +you could carry out your parents' dedication and wish; but vocation +cannot be forced, neither must you fall into Olive's mistake of +supposing self-sacrifice is the one thing needful. After all, our first +duty is to be true to ourselves.' + +'Aunt Milly, how wise you are!' he exclaimed in involuntary admiration. +'No one, not even my father, put it so clearly. You are right, I do not +mean to sacrifice myself unless I can feel it my duty to do so. But it +is a question I must settle with myself.' + +'True, dear, only remember the brave old verse-- + + "Stumbleth he who runneth fast? + Dieth he who standeth still? + Not by haste or rest can ever + Man his destiny fulfil." + +"Never hasting, never resting," a fine life-motto, Cardie; but our time +is nearly at an end, we must be going now.' + +As they walked along, Richard returned of his own accord to the subject +they had been discussing, and owned his indecision was a matter of great +grief to him. + +'Conscientious doubts will find their answer some day,' replied Mildred; +'but I wish you had not refused to confide them to your father.' + +Richard bit his lip. + +'It was wrong of me; I know it, Aunt Milly; but it would have been so +painful to him, and so humiliating to myself.' + +'Hardly so painful as to be treated like a stranger by his own son. You +have no idea how sorely your reserve has fretted him.' + +'It was cowardly of me; but indeed, Aunt Milly, the whole question was +involved in difficulty. My father is sometimes a little vague in his +manner of treating things; he is more scholarly than practical, and I +own I dreaded complication and disappointment.' + +Mildred sighed. Perhaps after all he was right. Her brother was +certainly a little dreamy and wanting in concentration and energy just +now; but little did Richard know the depth of his father's affection. +Just as the old war-horse will neigh at the sound of the battle, and be +ready to rush into the midst of the glittering phalanx, so would Arnold +Lambert have warred with the grisly phantoms of doubt and misbelief that +were leagued against Richard's boyish faith, ready to lay down his life +if need be for his boy; but as he sat hour after hour in his lonely +study, the sadness closed more heavily round him--sadness for his lost +love in heaven, his lost confidence on earth. + +Dr. Heriot gave Mildred and Richard a searching glance as they +re-entered the room. Both looked worn and pale, but a softened and +subdued expression was on Richard's face as he stood by the bedside, +looking down on his sister. + +'No change,' whispered Mildred. + +'None at present; but there may be a partial rally. Where is Mr. +Lambert, I want to speak to him;' and, as though to check further +questioning, Dr. Heriot reiterated a few instructions, and left the +room. + +The hours passed on. Richard, in spite of his aunt's whispered +remonstrances, still kept watch beside her; and Mr. Lambert, who as +usual had been praying by the side of his sick child, and had breathed +over her unconsciousness his solemn benediction, had just left the room, +when Mildred, who was giving her nourishment, noticed a slight change in +Olive, a sudden gleam of consciousness in her eyes, perhaps called forth +by her father's prayer, and she signed to Richard to bring him back. + +Was this the rally of which Dr. Heriot spoke? the brief flicker of the +expiring torch flaming up before it is extinguished? Olive seemed trying +to concentrate her drowsy faculties, the indistinct muttering became +painfully earnest, but the unhappy father, though he placed his ear to +the lips of the sinking girl, could connect no meaning with the +inarticulate sounds, until Mildred's greater calmness came to his help. + +'Home. I think she said home, Arnold;' and then with a quick intuitive +light that surprised herself, 'I think she wishes to know if God means +to take her home.' + +Olive's restlessness a little abated. This time the parched and +blackened lips certainly articulated 'home' and 'mother.' They could +almost fancy she smiled. + +'Oh, do not leave me, my child,' ejaculated Mr. Lambert, stretching out +his arms as though to keep her. 'God is good and merciful; He will not +take away another of my darlings; stay a little longer with your poor +father;' and Olive understood him, for the bright gleam faded away. + +'Oh, father, she will surely stay if we ask her,' broke in Richard in an +agitated voice, thrusting himself between them and speaking with a +hoarse sob; 'she is so good, and knows we all love her and want her. You +will not break my heart, Livy, you will forgive me and stay with us a +little?' and Richard flung himself on his knees and buried his head on +the pillow. + +Ah, the bright gleam had certainly faded now; there was a wandering, +almost a terrified expression in the hollow, brilliant eyes. Were those +gates closing on her? would they not let her go? + +'Cardie, dear Cardie, hush, you are agitating her; look how her eyelids +are quivering and she has no power to speak. Arnold, ask him to be +calm,' and Mr. Lambert, still holding his seemingly dying child, laid +his other hand on Richard's bent head. + +'Hush, my son, we must not grieve a departing spirit. I was wrong. His +will be done even in this. He has given, and He must take away; be +silent while I bless my child again, my child whom I am giving back to +Him and to her mother,' but as he lifted up his hands the same feeble +articulation smote on their ear. + +'Cardie wants me--poor Cardie--poor papa--not my will.' + +Did Mildred really catch those words, struggling like broken +breaths?--was it the cold sweat of the death-damp that gathered on the +clammy brow?--were the fingers growing cold and nerveless on which +Richard's hot lips were pressed?--were those dark eyes closing to earth +for ever? + +'Mildred--Richard--what is this?' + +'"Lord, if he sleep he shall do well!" exclaimed the disciples.' + +'Hush; thank God, this is sleep, natural sleep,--the crisis is passed, +we shall save her yet,' and Dr. Heriot, who had just entered, beckoned +the father and brother gently from the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +COMING BACK + + 'If Thou shouldst bring me back to life, + More humble I should be, + More wise, more strengthened for the strife + More apt to lean on Thee. + Should death be standing at the gate, + Thus should I keep my vow, + But, Lord! whatever be my fate, + Oh, let me serve Thee now!'--Anne Brontė. + + +'This sickness is not unto death.' + +The news that the crisis had passed, and that the disease that had so +long baffled the physician's skill had taken a favourable turn, soon +spread over the town like wildfire; the shadow of death no longer +lingered on the threshold of the vicarage; there were trembling voices +raised in the _Te Deum_ the next morning; the vicar's long pause in the +Thanksgiving was echoed by many a throbbing heart; Mildred's book was +wet with her tears, and even Chrissy looked softened and subdued. + +There were agitated greetings in the church porch afterwards. Olive's +sick heart would have been satisfied with the knowledge that she was +beloved if she had seen Roy's glistening eyes and the silent pressure of +congratulation that passed between her father and Richard. + +'Heriot, we feel that under Providence we owe our girl's life to you.' + +'You are equally beholden to her aunt's nursing; but indeed, Mr. +Lambert, I look upon your daughter's recovery as little less than a +miracle. I certainly felt myself justified to prepare you for the worst +last night; at one time she appeared to be sinking.' + +'She has been given back to us from the confines of the grave,' was the +solemn answer; and as he took his son's arm and they walked slowly down +the churchyard, he said, half to himself--'and a gift given back is +doubly precious.' + +The same thought seemed in his mind when Richard entered the study late +that night with the welcome tidings that Olive was again sleeping +calmly. + +'Oh, Cardie, last night we thought we should have lost our girl; after +all, God has been good to me beyond my deserts.' + +'We may all say that, father.' + +'I have been thinking that we have none of us appreciated Olive as we +ought; since she has been ill a hundred instances of her unselfishness +have occurred to me; in our trouble, Cardie, she thought for others, not +for herself. I never remember seeing her cry except once, and yet the +dear child loved her mother.' + +Richard's face paled a little, but he made no answer; he remembered but +too well the time to which his father alluded--how, when in his jealous +surveillance he had banished her from her father's room, he had found +her haunting the passages with her pale face and black dress, or sitting +on the stairs, a mute image of patience. + +No, there had been no evidence of her grief; others beside himself had +marvelled at her changeless and monotonous calm; she had harped on her +mother's name with a persistency that had driven him frantic, and he had +silenced the sacred syllables in a fit of nervous exasperation; from the +very first she had troubled and wearied him, she whom he was driven to +confess was immeasurably his superior. Yes, the scales had fallen from +his eyes, and as his father spoke a noble spirit pleaded in him, and the +rankling confession at last found vent in the deep inward cry-- + +'Father, I have sinned against heaven and before Thee, in that I have +offended one of Thy little ones,' and the _Deo gratias_ of an accepted +repentance and possible atonement followed close upon the words. + +'Father, I want to speak to you.' + +'Well, Cardie.' + +'I know how my silence has grieved you; Aunt Milly told me. I was +wrong--I see it now.' + +Richard's face was crimsoning with the effort, but the look in his +father's eyes as he laid his thin hand on his arm was sufficient reward. + +'Thank God for this, my boy, that you have spoken to me at last of your +own accord; it has lifted a heavy burden from my heart.' + +'I ought not to have refused my confidence; you were too good to me. I +did not deserve it.' + +'You thought you were strong enough to remove your own stumbling-blocks; +it is the fault of the young generation, Cardie; it would fain walk by +its own lights.' + +'I must allow my motives were mixed with folly, but the fear of +troubling you was predominant.' + +'I know it, I know it well, my son, but all the same I have yearned to +help you. I have myself to blame in this matter, but the thought that +you would not allow me to share your trouble was a greater punishment +than even I could bear; no, do not look so sorrowful, this moment has +repaid me for all my pain.' + +But it was not in Richard's nature to do anything by halves, and in his +generous compunction he refused to spare himself; the barrier of his +reserve once broken down, he made ample atonement for his past +reticence, and Mr. Lambert more than once was forced to admit that he +had misjudged his boy. + +Late into the night they talked, and when they parted the basis of a +perfect understanding was established between them; if his son's tardy +confidence had soothed and gratified Mr. Lambert, Richard on his side +was equally grateful for the patience and loving forbearance with which +his father strove to disentangle the webs that insidious argument had +woven in his clear young brain; there was much lurking mischief, much to +clear away and remove, difficulties that only time and prayerful +consideration could surmount; but however saddened Mr. Lambert might +feel in seeing the noxious weeds in that goodly vineyard, he was not +without hope that in time Richard's tarnished faith might gleam out +brightly again. + +During the weeks that ensued there were many opportunities for hours of +quiet study and talk between the father and son; in his new earnestness +Mr. Lambert became less vague, this fresh obstacle roused all his +energy; there was something pathetic in the spectacle of the worn +scholar and priest buckling on his ancient armour to do battle for his +boy; the old flash came to his eye, the ready vigour and eloquence to +his speech, gleams of sapient wisdom startled Richard into new +reverence, causing the young doubter to shrink and feel abashed. + +'If one could only know, if an angel from heaven might set the seal to +our assurance!' he exclaimed once. 'Father, only to know, to be sure of +these things.' + +'Oh, Cardie, what is that but following the example of the affectionate +but melancholy Didymus; "Blessed are they that have not seen and yet +have believed"; the drowning mariner cannot see the wind that is lashing +the waves that threaten to engulf his little bark, cannot "tell whence +it comes or whither it goes," yet faith settles the helm and holds the +rudder, and bids him cling to the spar when all seems over.' + +'But he feels it beyond and around him; he feels it as we feel the +warmth of the latent sunshine or the permeating influences of light; we +can see the light, father,' he continued eagerly, 'we can lift our eyes +eagle-wise to the sun if we will; why should our inner light be quenched +and clouded?' + +'To test our faith, to make us hold on more securely; after all, Cardie, +the world beyond--truth revealed--religion--look to us often through +life like light seen from the bottom of a well--below us darkness, then +space, narrowed to our perception, a glimmering of blue sky sown thick +with stars--light, keen and arrowy, shining somewhere in the depths; +some of us rise to the light, drawn irresistibly to it, a few remain at +the bottom of the well all their lives.' + +'And some are born blind.' + +'Let us leave them to the mercy of the Great Physician; in our case +scales may fall from our eyes, and still with imperfect vision we may +look up and see men as trees walking, but we must grope on still. Ah, my +boy, when in our religious hypochondria whole creeds desert us, and +shreds and particles only remain of a fragmentary and doubtful faith, +don't let us fight with shadows, which of their very nature elude and +fade out of our grasp; let us fall on our knees rather, Cardie, and +cry--"Lord, I believe--I will believe; help Thou my unbelief."' + +Many and many such talks were held, the hours and days slipping away, +Mildred meanwhile devoting herself to the precious work of nursing Olive +back to convalescence. + +It was a harder task than even Dr. Heriot expected; slowly, painfully, +almost unwillingly, the girl tottered back to life; now and then there +were sensible relapses of weakness; prostration, that was almost +deathlike, then a faint flicker, followed by a conscious rally, times +when they trembled and feared and then hoped again; when the shadowy +face and figure filled Mildred with vague alarm, and the blank +despondency in the large dark eyes haunted her with a sense of pain. + +In vain Mildred lavished on her the tenderest caresses; for days there +was no answering smile on the pallid face, and yet no invalid could be +more submissive. + +Unresistingly, uncomplainingly, Olive bore the weakness that was at +times almost unendurable; obediently she took from their hands the +nourishment they gave her; but there seemed no anxiety to shake off her +illness; it was as though she submitted to life rather than willed it, +nay, as though she received it back with a regret and reluctance that +caused even her unselfishness a struggle. + +Was the cloud returning? Had they been wrong to pray so earnestly for +her life? Would she come back to them a sadder and more weary Olive, to +tax their forbearance afresh, instead of winning an added love; was she +who had been as a little child set in their midst for an example of +patient humility, to carry this burden of despondent fear about with her +from the dark valley itself? + +Mildred was secretly trembling over these thoughts; they harassed and +oppressed her; she feared lest Richard's new reverence and love for his +sister should be impaired when he found the old infirmity still clinging +to her; even now the sad look in her eyes somewhat oppressed him. + +'Livy, you look sometimes as though you repented getting well,' he said +affectionately to her one day, when her languor and depression had been +very great. + +'Oh no, please don't say so, Cardie,' she returned faintly, but the last +trace of colour forsook her face at his words; 'how can--how can you say +that, when you know you wanted me?' and as the tears began to flow, +Richard, alarmed and perplexed, soothed and comforted her. + +Another day, when her father had been sitting by her, reading and +talking to her, he noticed that she looked at him with a sort of puzzled +wonder in her eyes. + +'What is it, my child?' he asked, leaning over her and stroking her hair +with caressing hand. 'Do you feel weary of the reading, Olive?' + +'No, oh no; it was beautiful,' she returned, with a trembling lip; 'I +was only thinking--wondering why you loved me.' + +'Love you, my darling! do not fathers love their children, especially +when they have such good affectionate children?' + +'But I am not good,' she returned, with something of her old shrinking. +'Oh, papa, why did you and Cardie want me so, your poor useless Olive; +even Cardie loves me now, and I have done nothing but lie here and give +trouble to you all; but you are all so good--so good,' and Olive buried +her pale face in her father's shoulder. + +The old self-depreciation waking up to life, the old enemy leaguing with +languor and despondency to mar the sweet hopefulness of convalescence. +Mildred in desperation determined to put her fears to the proof when +Olive grew strong enough to bear any conversation. + +The opportunity came sooner than she hoped. + +One day the cloud lifted a little. Roy had been admitted to his sister's +room, and his agitation and sorrow at her changed appearance and his +evident joy at seeing her again had roused Olive from her wonted +lethargy. Mildred found her afterwards lying exhausted but with a smile +on her face. + +'Dear Roy,' she murmured, 'how good he was to me. Oh, Aunt Milly,' +clasping Mildred's hands between her wasted fingers, 'I don't deserve +for them to be so dear and good to me, it makes me feel as though I were +wicked and ungrateful not to want to get well.' + +'I dreaded to hear you say this, Olive,' returned Mildred. As she sat +down beside her, her grieved look seemed a reproach to Olive. + +'It was not that I wanted to leave you all,' she said, laying her cheek +against the hand she held, 'but I have been such a trouble to every one +as well as to myself; it seemed so nice to have done with it all--all +the weariness and disappointment I mean.' + +'You were selfish for once in your life then, Olive,' returned Mildred, +trying to smile, but with a heavy heart. + +'I tried not to be,' she whispered. 'I did not want you to be sorry, +Aunt Milly, but I knew if I lived it would all come over again. It is +the old troublesome Olive you are nursing,' she continued softly, 'who +will try and disappoint you as she has always done. I can't get rid of +my old self, and that is why I am sorry.' + +'Sorry because we are glad; it is Olive and no other that we want.' + +'Oh, if I could believe that,' returned the girl, her eyes filling with +tears; 'but it sounds too beautiful to be true, and yet I know it was +only Cardie's voice that brought me back, he wanted me so badly, and he +asked me to stay. I heard him--I heard him sob, Aunt Milly,' clutching +her aunt with weak, nerveless fingers. + +'Are you sure, Olive? You were fainting, you know.' + +'Yes, I was falling--falling into dark, starry depths, full of living +creatures, wheels of light and flame seemed everywhere, and then +darkness. I thought mamma had got me in her arms, she seemed by me +through it all, and then I heard Cardie say I should break his heart, +and then he sobbed, and papa blessed me. I heard some gate close after +that, and mamma's arms seemed to loosen from me, and I knew then I was +not dying.' + +'But you were sorry, Olive.' + +'I tried not to be; but it was hard, oh, so hard, Aunt Milly. Think what +it was to have that door shut just as one's foot was on the threshold, +and when I thought it was all over and I had got mamma back again; but +it was wrong to grieve. I have not earned my rest.' + +'Hush, my child, you must not take up a new lease of life so sadly; this +is a gift, Olive, a talent straight from the Master's hands, to be +received with gratitude, to be used joyfully; by and by, when you are +stronger, you will find more beautiful work your death would have left +unfinished.' + +A weary look crossed Olive's face. + +'Shall I ever be strong enough to work again?' + +'You are working now; nay, my child,' as Olive looked up with languid +surprise, 'few of us are called upon to do a more difficult task than +yours; to take up life when we would choose death, to bear patiently the +discipline of suffering and inaction, to wait till He says "work."' + +'Dear Aunt Milly, you always say such comforting things. I thought I was +only doing nothing but give you trouble.' + +'There you were wrong, Olive; every time you suppress an impatient sigh, +every time you call up a smile to cheer us, you are advancing a step, +gaining a momentary advantage over your old enemy; you know my favourite +verses-- + + "Broadest streams from narrowest sources, + Noblest trees from meanest seeds, + Mighty ends from small beginnings, + From lowly promise lofty deeds. + + "Acorns which the winds have scattered, + Future navies may provide; + Thoughts at midnight, whispered lowly, + Prove a people's future guide." + +I am a firm believer in little efforts, Olive.' + +Olive was silent for a few minutes, but she appeared thinking deeply; +but when she spoke next it was in a calmer tone. + +'After all, Aunt Milly, want of courage is my greatest fault.' + +'I cannot deny it, dear.' + +'I am so afraid of responsibility that it seemed easier to die than to +face it. You were right; I was selfish to want to leave you all.' + +'You must try to rejoice with us that you are spared.' + +'Yes, I will try,' with a sigh; but as she began to look white and +exhausted, Mildred thought it wiser to drop the conversation. + +The family circle was again complete in the vicarage, and in the +evenings a part of the family always gathered in the sickroom. This was +hailed as a great privilege by the younger members--Roy, Polly, and +Chriss eagerly disputing it. It was an understood thing that Richard +should be always there; Olive seemed restless without him. Roy was her +next favourite; his gentleness and affection seemed to soothe her; but +Mildred noticed that Polly's bright flow of spirits somewhat oppressed +her, and it was not easy to check Chriss's voluble tongue. + +One evening Ethel was admitted. She had pleaded so hard that Richard had +at last overcome Olive's shrinking reluctance to face any one outside +the family circle; but even Olive's timidity was not proof against +Ethel's endearing ways; and as Miss Trelawny, shocked and distressed at +her changed appearance, folded the girl silently in her arms, the tears +gathered to her eyes, and for a moment she seemed unable to speak. + +'You must not be so sorry,' whispered Olive, gratefully; 'Aunt Milly +will soon nurse me quite well.' + +'But I was not prepared for such a change,' stammered Ethel. 'Dear +Olive, to think how you must have suffered! I should hardly have known +you; and yet,' she continued, impulsively, 'I never liked the look of +you so well.' + +'We tell her she has grown,' observed Richard, cheerfully; 'she has only +to get fat to make a fine woman. Aunt Milly has contrived such a +bewitching head-dress that we do not regret the loss of all that +beautiful hair.' + +'Oh, Cardie, as though that mattered;' but Olive blushed under her +brother's affectionate scrutiny. Ethel Trelawny was right when she owned +Olive's appearance had never pleased her more, emaciated and changed as +she was. The sad gentleness of the dark, unsmiling eyes was infinitely +attractive. The heavy sallowness was gone; the thin white face looked +fair and transparent; little rings of dark hair peeped under the lace +cap; but what struck Ethel most was the rapt and elevated expression of +the girl's face--a little dreamy, perhaps, but suggestive of another and +nobler Olive. + +'Oh, Olive, how strange it seems, to think you have come back to us +again, when Mildred thought you had gone!' ejaculated Ethel, in a tone +almost of awe. + +'Yes,' returned Olive, simply; 'I know what death means now. When I come +to die, I shall feel I know it all before.' + +'But you did not die, dear Olive!' exclaimed Ethel, in a startled voice. +'No one can know but Lazarus and the widow's son; and they have told us +nothing.' + +'Aunt Milly says they were not allowed to tell; she thinks there is +something awful in their silence; but all the same I shall always feel +that I know what dying means.' + +Ethel looked at her with a new reverence in her eyes. Was this the +stammering, awkward Olive? + +'Tell me what you mean,' she whispered gently; 'I cannot understand. One +must die before one can solve the mystery.' + +'And was I not dying?' returned Olive, in the same dreamy tone. 'When I +close my eyes I can bring it all back; the faintness, the dizziness, the +great circles of light, the deadly, shuddering cold creeping over my +limbs, every one weeping round me, and yet beyond a great silence and +darkness; we begin to understand what silence means then.' + +'A great writer once spoke of "voices at the other end of silence,"' +returned Ethel, in a stifled tone. This strange talk attracted and yet +oppressed her. + +'But silence itself--what is silence?--one sometimes stops to think +about it, and then its grandeur seems to crush one. What if silence be +the voice of God!' + +'Dear Livy, you must not excite yourself,' interrupted Richard; but his +tone was awestruck too. + +'Great thoughts do not excite,' she returned, calmly. She had forgotten +Ethel--all of them. From the couch where she lay she could see the dark +violet fells, the soft restful billows of green, silver splashes of +light through the trees. How peaceful and quiet it all looked. Ah! if it +had only been given her to walk in those green pastures and 'beside the +still waters of the Paradise of God;' if that day which shall be known +to the Lord 'had come to her when "at eventide it shall be +light;"'--eventide!--alas! for her there still must remain the burden +and heat of the day--sultry youth, weariness of premature age, 'light +that shall neither be clear nor dark,' before that blessed eventide +should come, 'and she should pass through the silence into the rest +beyond.' + +'Aunt Milly, if you or Cardie would read me something,' she said at +last, with a wonderful sadness in her voice; and as they hastened to +comply with her wish, the brief agitation vanished from her face. What +if it were not His will! what if some noble work stood ready to her +faltering hand, "content to fill a little space, if Thou be glorified!" +'Oh, I must learn to say that,' she whispered. + +'Are you tired, Livy?' asked Richard at last, as he paused a moment in +his reading; but there was no answer. Olive's eyes were closed. One thin +hand lay under her cheek, a tear hung on the eyelashes; but on the +sleeping face there lay an expression of quiet peace that was almost +childlike. + +It was noticed that Olive mended more rapidly from that evening. Dr. +Heriot had recommended change of air; and as Olive was too weak to bear +a long journey, Mildred took her to Redcar for a few weeks. Richard +accompanied them, but did not remain long, as his father seemed +unwilling to lose him during his last few months at home. + +During their absence two important events took place at the vicarage. +Dad Fabian paid his promised visit, and the new curate arrived. Polly's +and Chriss's letter brimmed over with news. 'Every one was delighted +with her dear old Dad,' Polly wrote; 'Richard was gracious, Mr. Lambert +friendly, and Roy enthusiastically admiring.' + +Dad had actually bought a new coat and had cut his hair, which Polly +owned was a grief to her; 'and his beard looked like everybody else's +beard,' wrote the girl with a groan. If it had not been for his +snuff-box she would hardly have known him. Some dealer had bought his +_Cain_, and the old man's empty pockets were replenished. + +It was a real joy to Olive's affectionate heart to know that Roy's +juvenile efforts were appreciated by so great a man. + +Mildred, who was almost as simple in worldly matters as her niece, was +also a devout believer in Dad Fabian's capabilities. The dark-lined +picture of Cain fleeing from his avenging conscience, with his weeping +guardian angel by his side, had made a great impression on her. + +Olive and she had long talks over Polly's rapid scrawls. Roy had genius, +and was to be an artist after all. He was to enter a London studio after +Christmas. Dad Fabian knew the widow of an artist living near Hampstead +who would board and lodge him, and look after him as though he were a +son of her own; and Dad Fabian himself was to act as his sponsor, +art-guide, and chaperon. + +'My guardian thinks very highly of Dad,' wrote Polly, in her pretty, +childish handwriting. 'He calls him an unappreciated genius, and says +Roy will be quite safe under his care. Dad is a little disappointed +Roy's forte is landscape painting; he wanted him to go in for high art; +but Roy paints clouds better than faces.' + +'Dear Roy, how we shall miss him!' sighed Olive, as she laid the letter +down. + +'Polly more than any one,' observed Mildred, thinking how strange it +would be to see one bright face without the other close to it. + +The new curate was rather a tame affair after this. + +'His name is Hugh Marsden, and he is to live at Miss Farrer's, the +milliner,' announced Olive one day, when she had received a letter from +Richard. 'Miss Farrer has two very nice rooms looking over the +market-place. Her last lodger was a young engineer, and it made a great +difference to her income when he left her. Richard says he is a "Queen's +man, and a very nice fellow;" he is only in deacon's orders.' + +'Let us see what Chriss has to say about him in her letter,' returned +Mildred; but she contemplated a little ruefully the crabbed, irregular +writing, every word looking like a miniature edition of Contradiction +Chriss herself. + +'Mr. Marsden has arrived,' scrawled Chriss, 'and has just had tea here. +I don't think we shall like him at all. Roy says he is a jolly fellow, +and is fond of cricket and fishing, and those sort of things, but he +looks too much like a big boy for my taste; I don't like such large +young men; and he has big hands and feet and a great voice, and his +laugh is as big as the rest of him. I think him dreadfully ugly, but +Polly says "No, he has nice honest eyes." + +'He tried to talk to Polly and me; only wasn't it rude, Aunt Milly? He +called me my dear, and asked me if I liked dolls. I felt I could have +withered him on the spot, only he was so stupid and obtuse that he took +no notice, and went on about his little sister Sophy, who had twelve +dolls, whom she dressed to represent the twelve months in the year, and +how she nearly broke her heart when he sat down on them by accident and +smashed July.' + +Roy gave a comical description of the whole thing and Chriss's wrathful +discomfiture. + +'We have just had great fun,' he wrote; 'the Rev. Hugh has just been +here to tea; he is a capital fellow--up to larks, and with plenty of go +in him, and with a fine deep voice for intoning; he is wild about +training the choir already. He talked a great deal about his mother and +sisters; he is an only son. I bet you anything, you women will be bored +to death with Dora, Florence, and Sophy. If they are like him they are +not handsome. One thing I must tell you, he riled Contradiction awfully +by asking her if she liked dolls; she was Pugilist Pug then and no +mistake. You should have seen the air with which she drew herself up. "I +suppose you take me for a little girl," quoth she. Marsden's face was a +study. "I am afraid you will take her for a spoilt one," says Dad, +patting her shoulder, which only made matters worse. "I think your +sister must be very silly with her twelve seasons," bursts out Chriss. +"I would sooner do algebra than play with dolls; but if you will excuse +me, I have my Cęsar to construe;" and she walked out of the room with +her chin in the air, and every curl on her head bristling with wrath. +Marsden sat open-mouthed with astonishment, and Dad was forced to +apologise; and there was Polly all the time "behaving like a little +lady."' + +'As though Polly could do wrong,' observed Mildred with a smile, as she +finished Roy's ridiculous effusion. + +It was the beginning of October when they returned home. Olive had by +this time recovered her strength, and was able to enjoy her rambles on +the sand; and though Mr. Lambert found fault with the thin cheeks and +lack of robustness, his anxiety was set at rest by Mildred, who declared +Olive had done credit to her nursing, and a little want of flesh was all +the fault that could be found with her charge. + +The welcome home was sweet to the restored invalid. Richard's kiss was +scarcely less fond than her father's. Roy pinched her cheek to be sure +that this was a real, and not a make-believe, Olive; while Polly +followed her to her room to assure herself that her hair had really +grown half an inch, as Aunt Milly declared it had. + +Nor was Mildred's welcome less hearty. + +'How good it is to see you in your old place, Aunt Milly,' said Richard, +with an affectionate glance, as he placed himself beside her at the +tea-table. + +'We have missed you, Milly!' exclaimed her brother a moment afterwards. +'Heriot was saying only last night that the vicarage did not seem itself +without you.' + +'Nothing is right without Aunt Milly!' cried Polly, with a squeeze; and +Roy chimed in, indignantly, 'Of course not; as though we could do +without Aunt Milly!' + +The new curate was discussed the first evening. Mr. Lambert and Richard +were loud in their praises; and though Chriss muttered to herself in a +surly undertone, nobody minded her. + +His introduction to Olive happened after a somewhat amusing fashion. + +He was crossing the hall the next day, on his way to the vicar's study, +when Roy bade him go into the drawing-room and make acquaintance with +Aunt Milly. + +It happened that Mildred had just left the room, and Olive was sitting +alone, working. + +She looked up a little surprised at the tall, broad-shouldered young man +who was making his way across the room. + +'Royal told me I should find you here, Miss Lambert. I hope your niece +has recovered the fatigue of her journey.' + +'I am not Aunt Milly; I am Olive,' returned the girl, gravely, but not +refusing the proffered hand. 'You are my father's new curate, Mr. +Marsden, I suppose?' + +'Yes; I beg your pardon, I have made a foolish mistake I see,' returned +the young man, confusedly, stammering and flushing over his words. +'Royal sent me in to find his aunt, and--and--I did not notice.' + +'What does it matter?' returned Olive, simply. The curate's evident +nervousness made her anxious to set him at his ease. 'You could not +know; and Aunt Milly looks so young, and my illness has changed me. It +was such a natural mistake, you see,' with the soft seriousness with +which Olive always spoke now. + +'Thank you; yes, of course,' stammered Hugh, twirling his felt hat +through his fingers, and looking down at her with a sort of puzzled +wonder. The grave young face under the quaint head-dress, the soft dark +hair just parted on the forehead, the large earnest eyes, candid, and +yet unsmiling, filled him with a sort of awe and reverence. + +'You have been very ill,' he said at last, with a pitying chord in his +voice. 'People do not look like that who have not suffered. You remind +me,' he continued, sitting down beside her, and speaking a little +huskily, 'of a sister whom I lost not so very long ago.' + +Olive looked up with a sudden gleam in her eyes. + +'Did she die?' + +'Yes. You are more fortunate, Miss Lambert; you were permitted to get +well.' + +'You are a clergyman, and you say that,' she returned, a little +breathlessly. 'If it were not wrong I should envy your sister, who +finished her work so young.' + +'Hush, Miss Lambert, that is wrong,' replied Hugh. His brief nervousness +had vanished; he was quite grave now; his round, boyish face, ruddy and +brown with exercise, paled a little with his earnestness and the memory +of a past pain. + +'Caroline wanted to live, and you want to die,' he said, in a voice full +of rebuke. 'She cried because she was young, and did not wish to leave +us, and because she feared death; and you are sorry to live.' + +'I have always found life so hard,' sighed Olive. It did not seem +strange to her that she should be talking thus to a stranger; was he not +a clergyman--her father's curate--in spite of his boyish face? 'St. Paul +thought it was better, you know; but indeed I am trying to be glad, Mr. +Marsden, that I have all this time before me.' + +'Trying to be glad for the gift of life!' Here was a mystery to be +solved by the Rev. Hugh Marsden, he who rejoiced in life with the whole +strength of his vigorous young heart; who loved all living things, man, +woman, and child--nay, the very dumb animals themselves; who drank in +light and vigour and cheerfulness as his daily food; who was glad for +mere gladness' sake; to whom sin was the only evil in the world, and +suffering a privilege, and not a punishment; who measured all things, +animate and inanimate, with a merciful breadth of views, full of that +'charity that thinketh no evil,'--he to be told by this grave, pale girl +that she envied his sister who died. + +'What is the matter--have I shocked you?' asked Olive, her sensitiveness +taking alarm at his silence. + +'Yes--no; I am sorry for you, that is all, Miss Lambert. I am young, but +I am a clergyman, as you say. I love life, as I love all the good gifts +of my God; and I think,' hesitating and dropping his voice, 'your one +prayer should be, that He may teach you to be glad.' + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THREE YEARS AFTERWARDS--A RETROSPECT + + 'And still I changed--I was a boy no more; + My heart was large enough to hold my kind, + And all the world. As hath been apt before + With youth, I sought, but I could never find + Work hard enough to quiet my self-strife, + And the strength of action craving life. + She, too, was changed.'--Jean Ingelow. + + +In the histories of most families there are long even pauses during +which life flows smoothly in uneventful channels, when there are few +breaks and fewer incidents to chronicle; times when the silent +ingathering of individual interests deepens and widens imperceptibly +into an under-current of strength ready for the crises of emergency. +Times of peace alternating with the petty warfare which is the +prerogative of kinsmanship, a blessed routine of daily duty misnamed by +the young monotony, but which in reality is to train them for the rank +and file in the great human army hereafter; quiescent times during which +the memory of past troubles is mercifully obliterated by present ease, +and 'the cloud no bigger than a man's hand' does not as yet obscure the +soft breadth of heaven's blue. + +Such a time had come to the Lamberts. The three years that followed +Olive's illness and tardy convalescence were quite uneventful ones, +marked with few incidents worthy of note; outwardly things had seemed +unchanged, but how deep and strong was the under-current of each young +individual life; what rapid developments, what unfolding of fresh life +and interests in the budding manhood and womanhood within the old +vicarage walls. + +Such thoughts as these came tranquilly to Mildred as she sat alone one +July day in the same room where, three years before, the Angels of Life +and Death had wrestled over one frail girl, in the room where she had so +patiently and tenderly nursed Olive's sick body and mind back to health. + +For once in her life busy Mildred was idle, the work lay unfolded beside +her, while her eyes wandered dreamily over the fair expanse of sunny +green dotted with browsing sheep and tuneful with the plaintive bleating +of lambs; there was a crisp crunching of cattle hoofs on the beck gravel +below, a light wind touched the elms and thorns and woke a soft +soughing, the tall poplar swayed drowsily with a flicker of shaking +leaves; beyond the sunshine lay the blue dusk of the circling hills, +prospect fit to inspire a daydream, even in a nature more prosaic than +Mildred Lambert's. + +It was Mildred's birthday; she was thirty to-day, and she was smiling to +herself at the thoughts that she felt younger and brighter and happier +than she had three years before. + +They had been such peaceful years, full of congenial work and blessed +with sympathetic fellowship; she had sown so poorly, she thought, and +had reaped such rich harvests of requited love; she had come amongst +them a stranger three years ago, and now she could number friends by the +score; even her poorer neighbours loved and trusted her, their northern +reserve quite broken down by her tender womanly graces. + +'There are two people in Kirkby Stephen that would be sorely missed,' a +respectable tradesman once said to Miss Trelawny, 'and they are Miss +Lambert and Dr. Heriot, and I don't know which is the greater favourite. +I should have lost my wife last year but for her; she sat up with her +three nights running when that fever got hold of her.' + +And an old woman in the workhouse said once to Dr. Heriot when he wished +her to see the vicar: + +'Nae thanks to ye, doctor; ye needn't bother yersel' about minister, +Miss Lambert has sense enough. I wudn't git mair gude words nir she +gi'es; she's terrible gude, bless her;' and many would have echoed old +Sally Bates's opinion. + +Mildred's downright simplicity and unselfishness were winning all +hearts. + +'Aunt Milly has such a trustworthy face, people are obliged to tell +their troubles when they look at her,' Polly said once, and perhaps the +girl held the right clue to the secret of Mildred Lambert's influence. + +Real sympathy, that spontaneity of vigorous warm feeling emanating from +the sight of others' pain, is rarer than we imagine. Without exactly +giving expression to conventional forms of condolence, Mildred conveyed +the most delicate sympathy in every look and word; by a rapid transit of +emotion, she seemed to place herself in the position of the bereaved; to +feel as they felt--the sacred silence of sorrow; her few words never +grazed the outer edge of that bitter irritability that trenches on great +pain, and so her mere presence seemed to soothe them. + +Her perfect unconsciousness added to this feeling; there were times when +Mildred's sympathy was so intense that she absolutely lost herself. +'What have I done that you should thank me?' was a common speech with +her; in her own opinion she had done absolutely nothing; she had so +merged her own individual feelings into the case before her that +gratitude was a literal shock to her, and this same simplicity kept her +quiet and humble under the growing idolatry of her nephews and nieces. + +'My dear Miss Lambert, how they all love you,' Mrs. Delaware said to her +once; 'even that fine grown young man Richard seems to lay himself out +to please you.' + +'How can they help loving me,' returned Mildred, with that shy soft +smile of hers, 'when I love them so dearly, and they see it? Of course I +do not deserve it; but it is the old story, love begets love;' and the +glad, steady light in her eyes spoke of her deep content. + +Yes, Mildred was happy; the quiet woman joyed in her life with an +intense appreciation that Olive would have envied. Mildred never guessed +that there were secret springs to this fountain of gladness, that the +strongly-cemented friendship between herself and Dr. Heriot added a +fresh charm to her life, investing it with the atmosphere of unknown +vigour and strength. Mildred had always been proud of her brother's +intellect and goodness, but she had never learnt to rely so entirely on +his sagacity as she now did on Dr. Heriot. + +If any one had questioned her feelings with respect to the vicarage +Mentor, Mildred would have assured them with her sweet honesty that her +brother's friend was hers also, that she did full justice to his merits, +and was ready to own that his absence would leave a terrible gap in +their circle; but even Mildred did not know how much she had learnt to +depend on the sympathy that never failed her and the quick appreciation +that was almost intuitive. + +Mildred knew that Dr. Heriot liked her; he had found her trustworthy in +time of need, and he showed his gratitude by making fresh demands on her +time and patience most unblushingly: in his intercourse with her there +had always been a curious mixture of reverence and tenderness which was +far removed from any warmer feeling, though in one sense it might be +called brotherly. + +Perhaps Mildred was to blame for this; in spite of her appreciation of +Dr. Heriot, she had never broken through her habit of shy reserve, which +was a second nature with her--the old girlish Mildred was hidden out of +sight. Dr. Heriot only saw in his friend's sister a gentle, soft-eyed +woman, seeming older than she really was, and with tender, old-fashioned +ways, always habited in sober grays and with a certain staidness of mien +and quiet precision of speech, which, with all its restfulness, took +away the impression of youth. + +Yes, good and womanly as he thought her, Dr. Heriot was ignorant of the +real Mildred. Aunt Milly alone with her boys, blushing and dimpling +under their saucy praise, would have shattered all his ideas of +primness; just as those fits of wise eloquence, while Olive and Polly +lingered near her in the dark, the sweet impulse of words that stirred +them to their hearts' core, would have roused his latent enthusiasm to +the utmost. + +Dr. Heriot's true ideal of womanly beauty and goodness passed his door +daily, disguised in Quaker grays and the large shady black hat that was +for use and not for ornament, but he did not know it; when he looked out +it was to note how fresh and piquant Polly looked in her white dress and +blue ribbons as she tripped beside Mildred, or how the Spanish hat with +its long black feather suited Olive's sombre complexion. + +Olive had greatly improved since her illness; she was still irredeemably +plain in her own eyes, but few were ready to endorse this opinion; her +figure had rounded and filled out into almost majestic proportions, her +shoulders had lost their ungainly stoop, and her slow movements were not +without grace. + +Her complexion would always be sallow, but the dark abundant hair was +now arranged to some advantage, and the large earnest eyes were her +redeeming features, while a settled but soft seriousness had replaced +the old absorbing melancholy. + +Olive would never look on the brighter side of life as a happier and +more sanguine temperament would; she still took life seriously, almost +solemnly, though she had ceased to repine that length of days had been +given her; with her, conscientiousness was still a fault, and she would +ever be given to weigh herself carefully and be found wanting; but there +were times when even Olive owned herself happy, when the grave face +would relax into smiles and the dark eyes grow bright and soft. + +And there were reasons for this; Olive no longer suffered the pangs of +passionate and unrequited love, and her heart was at rest concerning +Richard. + +For two years the sad groping after truth, the mute search for vocation, +the conflict between duty and inclination, had continued, and still the +grave, stern face, kindly but impressive, has given no clue to his +future plans. 'I will tell you when I know myself, father,' was his +parting speech more than once. 'I trust you, Cardie, and I am content to +wait,' was ever his father's answer. + +But deliverance came at last, when the fetters fell off the noble young +soul, when every word in the letter that reached Mr. Lambert spoke of +the new-born gladness that filled his son's heart; there was no +reticence. + +'You trusted me and you were content to wait then; how often I have +repeated these words to myself, dear father; you have waited, and now +your patience shall be rewarded. + +'Father, at last I know myself and my own mind; the last wave of doubt +and fear has rolled off me; I can see it all now, I feel sure. I write +it tremblingly. I feel sure that it is all true. + +'Oh, how good God has been to me! I feel almost like the prodigal; only +no husks could have satisfied me for a moment; it was only the truth I +wanted--truth literal and divine; and, father, you have no reason to +think sadly of me any longer, for "before eventide my light has come."' + +'I am writing now to tell you that it is my firm and unalterable +intention to carry out your and my mother's wishes with respect to my +profession; will you ask my friends not to seek to dissuade me, +especially my friends at Kirkleatham? You know how sorely inclination +has already tempted me; believe me, I have counted the cost and weighed +the whole matter calmly and dispassionately. I have much to +relinquish--many favourite pursuits, many secret ambitions--but shall I +give what costs me nothing? and after all I am only thankful that I am +not considered too unworthy for the work.' + +It was this letter, so humble and so manly, that filled Olive's brown +eyes with light and lifted the weight from her heart. Cardie had not +disappointed her; he had been true to himself and his own convictions. +Mildred alone had her misgivings; when she next saw Richard, she thought +that he looked worn and pale, and even fancied his cheerfulness was a +little forced; and his admission that he had slept badly for two or +three nights so filled her with alarm that she determined to speak to +him at all costs. + +His composed and devout demeanour at service next morning, however, a +little comforted her, and she was hesitating whether the change in him +might be her own fancy, when Richard himself broke the ice by an abrupt +question as they were walking towards Musgrave that same afternoon. + +'What is all this about Ethel Trelawny, Aunt Milly?' + +And Mildred absolutely started at his tone, it was suppressed and yet so +eager. + +'She will not return to Kirkleatham for some weeks, Richard; she and her +father are visiting in Scotland.' + +Richard turned very pale. + +'It is true, then, Aunt Milly?' + +'What is true?' + +'That she is engaged to that man?' + +'To Sir Robert Ferrers? What! have you heard of that? No, indeed, +Richard, she has refused him most decidedly; why he is old enough to be +her father!' + +'That is no objection with some women. Are you sure? They are not in +Renfrewshire, then?' + +'They have never been there; they are staying with friends near +Ballater. Why, Richard, what is this?' as Richard stopped as though he +were giddy and covered his face with his hands. + +'I never meant you or any one to know,' he gasped at length, while +Mildred watched his varying colour with alarm; 'but I have not been able +to sleep since I heard, and the suddenness of the relief--oh! are you +quite sure, Aunt Milly?' with a painful eagerness in his tone very +strange to hear in grave, self-contained Richard. + +'Dear Cardie, let there be full confidence between us; you see you have +unwittingly betrayed yourself.' + +'Yes, I have betrayed myself,' he muttered with increasing agitation; +'what a fool you must think me, Aunt Milly, and all because I could not +put a question quietly; but I was not prepared for your answer; what a +consummate----' + +'Hush, don't call yourself names. I knew your secret long ago, Cardie. I +knew what friends you and Ethel Trelawny were.' + +A boyish flush suffused his face. + +'Ethel is very fond of her old playmate.' + +He winced as though with sudden pain. + +'Ah, that is just it, Aunt Milly; she is fond of me and nothing else.' + +'I like her name for you, Coeur-de-Lion, it sounds so musical from her +lips; you are her friend, Richard; she trusts you implicitly.' + +'I believe--I hope she does;' but drawing his hand again before his +eyes, 'I am too young, Aunt Milly. I was only one-and-twenty last +month.' + +'True, and Sir Robert was nearly fifty; she refused a fine estate +there.' + +'Was her father angry with her?' + +'Not so terribly incensed as he was about Mr. Cathcart the year before. +Mr. Cathcart had double his fortune and was a young, good-looking man. I +was almost afraid that in her misery she should be driven to marry him.' + +'He has no right to persecute her so; why should he be so anxious to get +rid of his only child?' + +'That is what we all say. Poor Ethel, hers is no light cross. I am +thankful she is beginning to take it patiently; the loss of a father's +love must be dreadful, and hers is a proud spirit.' + +'But not now; you said yourself, Aunt Milly, how nobly she behaved in +that last affair.' + +'True,' continued Mildred in a sorrowful tone; 'all the more that she +was inclined to succumb to a momentary fascination; but I am certain +that with all his intellect Mr. Cathcart would have been a most +undesirable husband for her; Sir Robert Ferrers is far preferable.' + +'Aunt Milly!' + +'Yes, Richard, and I told her so; but her only answer was that she would +not marry where she could not love. I am afraid this will widen the +breach between her and her father; her last letter was very sad.' + +'It is tyranny, downright persecution; how dares he. Oh, Aunt Milly!' in +a tone of deep despondency, 'if I were only ten years older.' + +'I am afraid you are very young, Cardie. I wish you had not set your +heart on this.' + +'Yes, we are too much of an age; but she need not fear, I am older in +everything than she; there is nothing boyish about me, is there, Aunt +Milly?' + +'Not in your love for Ethel, I am afraid; but, Cardie, what would her +father say if he knew it?' + +'He will know it some day. Look here, Aunt Milly, I am one-and-twenty +now, and I have loved Ethel, Miss Trelawny I mean, since I was a boy of +twelve; people may laugh, but I felt for my old playmate something of +what I feel now. She was always different from any one else in my eyes. +I remember telling my mother when I was only ten that Ethel should be my +wife.' + +'But, Richard----' + +'I know what you are going to say--that it is all hopeless moonshine, +that a curate with four or five hundred a year has no right to presume +to Mr. Trelawny's heiress; that is what he and the world will tell me; +but how am I to help loving her?' + +'What am I to say to you, Cardie? Long before you are your father's +curate Ethel may have met the man she can love.' + +'Then I shall bear my trouble, I hope, manfully. Don't you think this is +my one dread, that and being so young in her eyes? How little she knew +how she tempted me when she told me I ought to distinguish myself at the +Bar; I felt as though it were giving her up when I decided on taking +orders.' + +'She would call you a veritable Coeur-de-Lion if she knew. Oh! my poor +boy, how hardly this has gone with you,' as Richard's face whitened +again with emotion. + +'It has been terribly hard,' he returned, almost inaudibly; 'it was not +so much at last reluctance and fear of the work as the horrible dread of +losing her by my own act. I thought--it was foolish and young of me, I +daresay--but I thought that as people spoke of my capabilities I might +in time win a position that should be worthy even of her. Oh, Aunt +Milly! what a fool you must think me.' + +Richard's clear glance was overcast with pain as he spoke, but Mildred's +affectionate smile spoke volumes. + +'I think I never loved you so well, Cardie, now I know how nobly you +have acted. Have you told your father of this?' + +'No, but I am sure he knows; you have no idea how much he notices; he +said something to me once that showed me he was aware of my feelings; we +have no secrets now; that is your doing, Aunt Milly.' + +Mildred shook her head. + +'Ah, but it was; you were the first to break down my reserve; what a +churl I must have been in those days. You all think too well of me as it +is. Livy especially puts me in a bad humour with myself.' + +'I wanted to speak to you of Olive, Richard; are you not thankful that +she has found her vocation at last?' + +'Indeed I am. I wrote my congratulations by return of post. Fancy Kirke +and Steadman undertaking to publish those poems, and Livy only +eighteen!' + +'Dr. Heriot always told us she had genius. Some of them are really very +beautiful. Dear Olive, you should have seen her face when the letter +came.' + +'I know; I would have given anything to be there.' + +'She looked quite radiant, and yet so touchingly humble when she held it +out to her father, and then without waiting for us to read it she left +the room. I know she was thanking God for it on her knees, Richard, +while we were all gossiping to Dr. Heriot on Livy's good fortune.' + +Richard looked touched. + +'What an example she is to us all; if she would only believe half the +good of herself that we do, Aunt Milly.' + +'Then she would lose all her childlike humility. I think she gets less +morbidly self-conscious year by year; there is no denying she is +brighter.' + +'She could not help it, brought into contact with such a nature as +Marsden's; that fellow gives one the impression of perfect mental and +bodily health. Dr. John told me it was quite refreshing to look at him.' + +'Chriss amuses me, she will have it he is so noisy.' + +'He has a loud laugh certainly, and his voice is not exactly +low-pitched, but he is a splendid fellow. Roy keeps up a steady +correspondence with him. By the bye, I have not shown you my last letter +from Rome;' and Richard, who had regained his tranquillity and ordinary +manner, pulled the thin, foreign-looking envelope from his breast-pocket +and entertained Mildred for the remainder of the way with an amusing +account of some of Roy's Roman adventures. + +That night, as Richard sat alone with his father in the study, Mr. +Lambert placed his hand affectionately on his son's broad shoulder with +a look that was rather more scrutinising than usual. + +'So the last cloud has cleared away; that is right, Cardie.' + +'I do not understand you, father;' but the young man faltered a little +under his father's quiet glance. + +'Nay, it is for you to explain; only last night you seemed as though you +had some trouble on your mind, you were anxious and absorbed, and this +evening the oppression seems removed.' + +For a moment Richard hesitated, and the old boyish flush came to his +face, and then his determination was taken. + +'Father,' he said, speaking in a quick, resolute tone, and tossing back +his wave of dark hair as he spoke, always a trick of his when agitated, +'there shall be no half-confidence between us; yesterday I was heavy at +heart because I thought Ethel Trelawny would marry Sir Robert Ferrers; +to-day I hear she has refused him and the weight is gone.' + +Mr. Lambert gave a low, dismayed exclamation, and his hand dropped from +his son's shoulder. + +'Ah, is it so, my poor boy?' he said at last, and there was no mistaking +the sorrowful tone. + +'Yes, it is so, father,' he returned firmly; 'you may call me a fool for +my pains--I do not know, perhaps I am one--but it is too late to help it +now; the mischief is of too long standing.' + +In spite of his very real sympathy a smile crossed his father's lips, +and yet as he looked at Richard it somehow died away. Youthful as he +was, barely one-and-twenty, there was a set determination, a staid +manliness, in his whole mien that added five years at least to his age. + +Even to a disinterested eye he seemed a son of whom any father might be +proud; not tall--the massive, thick-set figure seemed made for strength +more than grace--but the face was pre-eminently handsome, the dark eyes +beamed with intelligence, the forehead was broad and benevolent, the +lips still closed with the old inflexibility, but the hard lines had +relaxed: firm and dominant, yet ruled by the single eye of integral +principle; there was no fear that Richard Lambert would ever overstep +the boundaries of a clearly-defined right. + +'That is my brave boy,' murmured his father at last, watching him with a +sort of wistful pain; 'but, Cardie, I cannot but feel grieved that you +have set your heart on this girl.' + +'What! do you doubt the wisdom or the fitness of my choice?' demanded +the young man hotly. + +'Both, Cardie; the girl is everything that one could wish; dear to me +almost as a daughter of my own, but Trelawny--ah, my poor boy, do you +dream that you can satisfy her father's ambition?' + +'I shall not try to do so,' returned Richard, speaking with set lips; 'I +know him too well; he would sell her to the highest bidder, sell his own +flesh and blood; but she is too noble for his corrupting influence.' + +'You speak bitterly, Cardie.' + +'I speak as I feel. Look here, father, foolishly or wisely, it does not +matter now, I have set my heart on this thing; I have grown up with this +one idea before me, the hope of one day, however distant, calling Ethel +Trelawny my wife. I do not think I am one to change.' + +Mr. Lambert shook his head. + +'I fear not, Cardie.' + +'I am as sure of the faithfulness of my own heart as I am that I am +standing here; young as I am, I know I love her as you loved my mother.' + +His father covered his face with his hand. + +'No, no; do not say that, Cardie.' + +'I must say what is true; you would not have me lie to you.' + +'Surely not; but, my boy, this is a hard hearing.' + +'You are thinking of Mr. Trelawny,' returned Richard, quietly; 'that is +not my worst fear; my chief obstacle is Ethel herself.' + +'What! you doubt her returning your affection?' asked his father. + +'Yes, I doubt it,' was the truthful answer; but it was made with +quivering lips. 'I dread lest I should not satisfy her exacting +fastidiousness; but all the same I mean to try; you will bid me +Godspeed, father?' + +'Yes, yes; but, Cardie, be prudent, remember how little you have to +offer--a few hundreds a year where she has thousands, not even a +curacy!' + +'You think I ought to wait a little; another year--two perhaps?' + +'That is my opinion, certainly.' + +Richard crossed the room once or twice with a rapid, disordered stride, +and then he returned to his father's side. + +'You are right; I must not do anything rashly or impulsively just +because I fear to lose her. I ought not to speak even to her until I +have taken orders; and yet if I could only make her understand how it is +without speaking.' + +'You must be very prudent, Cardie; remember my son has no right to +aspire to an heiress.' + +Richard's face clouded. + +'That dreadful money! There is one comfort--I believe she hates it as +much as I do; but it is not entailed property--he can leave it all away +from her.' + +'Yes, if she displeases him. Mildred tells me he holds this threat +perpetually over her; poor girl, he makes her a bad father.' + +'His conduct is unjustifiable in every way,' returned Richard in a +stifled voice; 'any one less noble would be tempted to make their escape +at all hazards, but she endures her wretchedness so patiently. Sometimes +I fancy, father, that when she can bear her loneliness no longer my time +for speaking will come, and then----' + +But Richard had no time to finish his sentence, for just then Dr. +Heriot's knock sounded at the door, and with a mute hand-shake of +perfect confidence the father and son separated for the night. + +This conversation had taken place nearly a year before, but from that +time it had never been resumed; sacredly did Mr. Lambert guard his boy's +confidence, and save that there was a deferential tenderness in his +manner to Ethel Trelawny and a wistful pain in his eyes when he saw +Richard beside her, no one would have guessed how heavily his son's +future weighed on his heart. Richard's manner remained unchanged; it was +a little graver, perhaps, and indicative of greater thoughtfulness, but +there was nothing lover-like in his demeanour, nothing that would check +or repel the warm sisterly affection that Ethel evidently cherished for +him; only at times Ethel wondered why it was that Richard's opinions +seemed to influence her more than they used, and to marvel at her vivid +remembrance of past looks and speeches. + +Somehow every time she saw him he seemed less like her old playmate, +Coeur-de-Lion, and transformed into an older and graver Richard; +perhaps it might be that the halo of the future priesthood already +surrounded him; but for whatever reason it might be, Ethel was certainly +less dictatorial and argumentative in her demeanour towards him, and +that a very real friendship seemed growing up between them. + +Richard was more than two-and-twenty now, and Roy just a year younger; +in another eight months he would be ordained deacon; as yet he had made +no sign, but as Mildred sat pondering over the retrospect of the three +last years in the golden and dreamy afternoon, she was driven to confess +that her boys were now men, doing men's work in the world, and to +wonder, with womanly shrinkings of heart, what the future might hold out +to them of good and evil. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +OLIVE'S WORK + + 'Read from some humbler poet, + Whose songs gushed from his heart, + As showers from the clouds of summer, + Or tears from the eyelids start; + + 'Who through long days of labour + And nights devoid of ease, + Still heard in his soul the music + Of wonderful melodies. + + 'Such songs have power to quiet + The restless pulse of care, + And come like the benediction + That follows after prayer.'--Longfellow. + + +'Aunt Milly, the book has come!' + +Chriss's impetuous young voice roused Mildred from her reverie. Chriss's +eager footsteps, her shrill tone, broke in upon the stillness, driving +the gossamer threads of fancy hither and thither by the very impetus of +youthful noise and movement. Mildred's folded hands dropped apart--she +turned soft bewildered looks on the girl. + +'What has come? I do not understand you,' she said, with a little laugh +at her own bewilderment. + +'Aunt Milly, what are you thinking about? are you asleep or dreaming?' +demanded Chriss, indignantly; 'why the book--Olive's book, to be sure.' + +'Has it come? My dear Chriss, how you startled me; if you had knocked, +it would have been different, but bursting in upon me like that.' + +'One can't knock for ever,' grumbled Chriss, in an aggrieved voice. 'Of +course I thought you were asleep this hot afternoon; but to see you +sitting smiling to yourself, Aunt Milly, in that aggravating way and not +understanding when one speaks.' + +'Hush! I understand you now,' returned Mildred, colouring; 'one gets +thinking sometimes, and----' + +'Your thoughts must have been miles off, then,' retorted Chriss, with an +inquisitive glance that seemed to embarrass Mildred, 'if it took you all +that time to travel to the surface. Polly told me to fetch you, because +tea is ready, and then the books came--such a big parcel!--and Olive's +hand shook so that she could not undo the knots, and so she cut the +string, and Cardie scolded her.' + +'It was not much of a scolding, I expect.' + +'Quite enough to bring Mr. Marsden to the rescue. "How can you presume +to reprimand a poetess," he said, quite seriously; you should have heard +Dr. John laugh. Look here, he has sent you these roses, Aunt Milly,' +drawing from under her little silk apron a delicious bouquet of roses +and maidenhair fern. + +A pretty pink colour came into Mildred's cheeks. + +'What beautiful roses! He must have remembered it was my birthday; how +kind of him, Chriss. I must come down and thank him.' + +'You must wear some in honour of the occasion--do, Aunt Milly; this deep +crimson one will look so pretty on your gray silk dress; and you must +put on the silver locket, with the blue velvet, that we all gave you.' + +'Nonsense,' returned Mildred, blushing; but Chriss was inexorable. + +Dr. Heriot looked up for the minute fairly startled when Mildred came in +with her pink cheeks and her roses. Chriss's artful fingers, bent on +mischief, had introduced a bud among the thick braids; the pretty brown +hair looked unusually soft and glossy; the rarely seen dimple was in +full play. + +'You have done honour to my roses, I see,' he said, as Mildred thanked +him, somewhat shyly, and joined the group round Olive. + +The drawing-room table was heaped over with the new-smelling, little +green volumes. As Mildred approached, Olive held out one limp soft copy +with a hand that shook perceptibly. + +'It has come at last, and on your birthday too; I am so glad,' she +whispered as Mildred kissed her. + +A soft light was in the girl's eyes, two spots of colour burnt in her +usually pale cheeks, her hand closed and unclosed nervously on the arm +of her chair. + +'There, even Marsden says they are beautiful, and he does not care much +for poetry,' broke in Richard, triumphantly. 'Livy, it has come to this, +that I am proud of my sister.' + +'Hush, please don't talk so, Cardie,' remonstrated Olive with a look of +distress. + +The spots of colour were almost hectic now, the smooth forehead furrowed +with anxiety; she looked ready to cry. This hour was full of sweet +torment to her. She shrank from this home criticism, so precious yet so +perilous: for the first time she felt afraid of the utterance of her own +written voice: if she only could leave them all and make her escape. She +looked up almost pleadingly at Hugh Marsden, whose broad shoulders were +blocking up the window, but he misunderstood her. + +'Yes, I think them beautiful; but your brother is right, and I am no +judge of poetry: metrical thoughts always appear so strange, so puzzling +to me--it seems to me like a prisoned bird, beating itself against the +bars of measurement and metres, as though it tried to be free.' + +'Why, you are talking poetry yourself,' returned Richard; 'that speech +was worthy of Livy herself.' + +Hugh burst into one of his great laughs; in her present mood it jarred +on Olive. Aunt Milly had left her, and was talking to her father. Dr. +John was at the other end of the room, busy over his copy. Why would +they talk about her so? it was cruel of Cardie, knowing her as he did. +She made a little gesture, almost of supplication, looking up into the +curate's broad, radiant face, but the young man again misunderstood her. + +'You must forgive me, I am sadly prosaic,' he returned, speaking now in +a lower key; 'these things are beyond me. I do not pretend to understand +them. That people should take the trouble to measure out their words and +thoughts--so many feet, so many lines, a missed adjective, or a halting +rhyme--it is that that puzzles me.' + +'Fie, man, what heresy; I am ashamed of you!' broke in Richard, +good-humouredly; 'you have forfeited Livy's good opinion for ever.' + +'I should be sorry to do that,' returned Hugh, seriously, 'but I cannot +help it if I am different from other people. When I was at college I +used to take my sisters to the opera, poor Caroline especially was fond +of it: do you know it gave me the oddest feeling. There was something +almost ludicrous to me in hearing the heroine of the piece trilling out +her woes with endless roulades; in real life people don't sing on their +deathbeds.' + +'Listen to him,' returned Richard, taking him by the shoulders; 'what is +one to do with such a literal, matter-of-fact fellow? You ought to talk +to him, Livy, and bring him to a better frame of mind.' + +But Hugh was not to be silenced; he stood up manfully, with his great +square shoulders blocking up the light, beaming down on Olive's +shrinking gravity like a gentle-hearted giant; he was one to make +himself heard, this big, clumsy young man. In spite of his boyish face +and loud voice, people were beginning to speak well of Hugh Marsden; his +youthful vigour and energy were waking up northern lethargy and fighting +northern prejudice. Was not the surpliced choir owing mainly to his +persevering efforts? and were not the ranks of the Dissenters already +thinned by that loud-voiced but persuasive eloquence of his? + +Olive absolutely cowered under it to-night. Hugh had no idea how his +noisy vehemence was jarring on that desire for quiet, and a nice talk +with Aunt Mildred, for which she was secretly longing; and yet she and +Hugh were good friends. + +'One can't help one's nature,' persisted Hugh, fumbling over the pages +of one of the little green books with his big hands as he spoke. 'In the +days of the primitive Church they had the gift of unknown tongues. I am +sure much of our modern poetry needs interpretation.' + +'Worse and worse. He will vote your "Songs of the Hearth" a mass of +unintelligible rubbish directly.' + +'You are too bad,' returned the young man with an honest blush; 'you +will incense your sister against me. What I really mean is,' sitting +down beside Olive and speaking so that Richard should not hear him, +'that poetry always seems to me more ornament than use. You cannot +really have felt and experienced all you have described in that +poem--"Coming Back," for example.' + +'Hush, don't show it me,' returned Olive, hurriedly. 'I don't mind your +saying this, but you do not know--the feeling comes, and then the words; +these are thoughts too grand and deep for common forms of expression; +they seem to flow of themselves into the measure you criticise. Oh! you +do not understand----' + +'No, but you can teach me to do so,' returned Hugh, quite gravely. He +had laid aside his vehemence at the first sound of Olive's quiet voice; +he had never lost his first impression of her,--he still regarded her +with a sort of puzzled wonder and reverence. A poetess was not much in +his line he told himself,--the only poetry he cared for was the Psalms, +and perhaps Homer and Shakespeare. Yes, they were grand fellows, he +thought; they could never see their like again. True, the 'Voices of the +Hearth' were very beautiful, if he could only understand them. + +'One cannot teach these things,' replied Olive, with her soft, serious +smile. + +As she answered Hugh she felt almost sorry for him, that this beautiful +gift had come to her, and that he could not understand--that he who +revelled in the good things of this life should miss one of its sweetest +comforts. + +She wondered vaguely over the young clergyman's denseness all the +evening. Hugh had a stronger developed passion for music, and was +further endowed with a deep rich baritone voice. As Olive heard him +joining in the family glees, or beating time to Polly's nicely-executed +pieces, she marvelled all the more over this omitted harmony in his +nature. She had at last made her escape from the crowded, +brilliantly-lighted room, and was pacing the dark terrace, pondering +over it still when Mildred found her. + +'Are you tired of us, Olive?' + +'Not tired of you, Aunt Milly. I have scarcely spoken to you to-day, and +it is your birthday, too,' putting her arm affectionately round Mildred, +and half leaning against her. In her white dress Olive looked taller +than ever. Richard was right when he said Livy would make a fine woman; +she looked large and massive beside Mildred's slight figure. 'Dear Aunt +Milly, I have so wanted to talk to you all the evening, but they would +not let me.' + +Mildred smiled fondly at her girl; during the last three years, ever +since her illness, she had looked on Olive as a sacred and special +charge, and as care begets tenderness as surely as love does love, so +had Olive's ailing but noble nature gained a larger share of Mildred's +warm affections than even Polly's brightness or Chriss's saucy piquancy +could win. + +'Have you been very happy to-night, dear?' she asked, softly. 'Have you +been satisfied with Olive's ovation?' + +'Oh, Aunt Milly! it has made me too glad; did you hear what Cardie said? +it made me feel so proud and so ashamed. Do you know there were actually +tears in papa's eyes when he kissed me.' + +'We are all so proud of our girl, you see.' + +'They almost make me cry between them. I wanted to get away and hide +myself, only Mr. Marsden would go on talking to me.' + +'Yes, I heard him; he was very amusing; he is full of queer hobbies.' + +'I cannot help being sorry for him, he must lose so much, you know; +poetry is a sort of sixth sense to me.' + +'Darling, you must use your sweet gift well.' + +'That is what I have been thinking,' laying her burning face against her +aunt's shoulders, as they both stood looking down at a glimmer of +shining water below them. 'Aunt Milly, do you remember what you said to +comfort me when I was so wickedly lamenting that I had not died?' + +Mildred shook her head. + +'I only know I lectured you soundly.' + +'Oh! Aunt Milly, and they were such dear, wise words that you spoke, +too; you told me that perhaps God had some beautiful work for me to do +that my death would leave unfinished. Do you think' (speaking softly and +slowly) 'that I have found my work?' + +'Dear, I cannot doubt it; no one who reads those lovely verses of yours +can dispute the reality of your gift. You have genius, Olive; why should +I seek to hide it?' + +'Thank you, Aunt Milly. Your telling me will not make me proud; you need +not be afraid of that, dear. I am only so very, very grateful that I +have found my voice.' + +'Your voice, Olive!' + +'Ah, I have made you smile; but can you fancy what a dumb person would +feel if his tongue were suddenly loosed from its paralysis of silence, +what a flow and a torrent of words there would be?' + +'Yes, the thought has often struck me when I have read the Gospels.' + +'Aunt Milly, I think I have something of the same feeling. I have always +wanted to find expression for my thoughts--an outlet for them; it is a +new tongue, but not an unknown one, as Mr. Marsden half hinted.' + +'Three years ago this same Olive who talks so sweetly to-night was full +of trouble at the thought of a new lease of life.' + +'It was all my want of faith; it was weak, cowardly. I know it well +after all,' in a low voice; 'to-night was worth living for. I am not +sorry now, Aunt Milly.' + +'What are you two talking about? I am come to pay my tribute to the +heroines of the night, and find them star-gazing,' broke in a familiar +voice. + +A tall figure in shining raiment bore down upon them--a confused vision +of soft white draperies and gleaming jewels under a cashmere cloak. + +'Ethel, is it you?' exclaimed Mildred, in an astonished voice. + +'Yes, it is I, dear Mildred,' replied the crisp tones, while two soft +arms came out from the cloak and enveloped her. 'I suppose I ought to be +on the road to Appleby Castle, but I determined to snatch half an hour +to myself first, to offer my congratulations to you and this dear girl' +(kissing Olive). 'You are only a secondary light to-night, Mildred.' + +'What! have you seen it?' + +'Yes; my copy came last night. I sat up half the night reading it. You +have achieved a success, Olive, that no one else has; you have +absolutely drawn tears from my eyes.' + +'I thought you never cried over books, Ethel,' in a mischievous tone +from Mildred. + +'I am usually most strong-hearted, but the "Voices of the Hearth" would +have melted a flint. Olive, I never thought it would come to this, that +I should be driven to confess that I envied you.' + +'Oh no, Ethel, not that, surely!' + +'Ah, but I do! that this magnificent power should be given you to wield +over all our hearts, that you should sing to us so sweetly, that we +should be constrained to listen, that this girlish head should speak to +us so wisely and so well,' touching Olive's thick coils with fingers +that glittered in the moonlight. + +'You must not praise her, or she will make her escape,' laughed Mildred, +with a glance at Olive's averted face; 'we have overwhelmed her already +with the bitter-sweet of home criticism, and by and by she will have to +run the gauntlet of severer, and it may be adverse, reviews.' + +'Then she will learn to prize our appreciation. Olive, I am humiliated +when I think how utterly I have misunderstood you.' + +'Why?' asked Olive, shyly, raising those fathomless dark eyes of hers to +Ethel's agitated face. + +'I have always looked upon you as a gloomy visionary who held impossible +standards of right and wrong, and who vexed herself and others by +troublesome scruples; but I see now that Mildred was right.' + +'Aunt Mildred always believes the best of every one,' interrupted Olive, +softly. + +She was flattered and yet pleased by Ethel's evident agitation--why +would they all think so much of her? What had she done? The feelings had +always been there--the great aching of unexpressed thoughts; and now a +voice had been given her with which to speak them. It was all so simple +to Olive, so sacred, so beautiful. Why would they spoil it with all this +talk? + +'Well, perhaps I had better not finish my sentence,' went on Ethel, with +a sigh; after all, it was a pity to mar that unconscious +simplicity--Olive would never see herself as others saw her; no fatal +egotism wrapped her round. She turned to Mildred with a little movement +of fondness as she dropped Olive's hand, and they all turned back into +the house. + +'If I have nothing else, I have you,' she whispered, with a thrill of +mingled envy and grief that went to Mildred's heart. + +The music and the conversation stopped as the door opened on the +dazzling apparition in the full light. Ethel looked pale, and there was +a heavy look round her eyes as though of unshed tears; her manner, too, +was subdued. + +People said that Ethel Trelawny had changed greatly during the last few +years; the old extravagance and daring that had won such adverse +criticism had wholly gone. Ethel no longer scandalised and repelled +people; her vivacity was tempered with reserve now. A heavy cloud of +oppression, almost of melancholy, had quenched the dreamy egotism that +had led her to a one-sided view of things; still quaint and original, +she was beginning to learn the elastic measurement of a charity that +should embrace a fairer proportion of her fellow-creatures. + +But the lesson was a hard one to her fastidiousness. It could not be +said even now that Ethel Trelawny had found her work in life, but +notwithstanding she worked hard. Under Mildred's loving tuition she no +longer looked upon her poorer neighbours with aversion or disgust, but +set herself in many ways to aid them and ameliorate their condition. +True the task was uncongenial and the labour hard, and the reward by no +means adequate, but at least she need no longer brand her self with +being a dreamer of dreams, or sigh that no human being had reason to +bless her existence. + +A great yearning took possession of her as she stood in her gleaming +silks, looking round that happy domestic circle. Mr. Lambert had not as +yet stolen back to his beloved study, but sat in the bay-window, +discussing parish affairs with Dr. Heriot. Richard had challenged the +curate to a game of chess, and Chriss had perched herself on the arm of +her brother's chair, and was watching the game. Polly, in her white +dress, was striking plaintive chords with one hand and humming to +herself in a sweet, girlish voice. + +'Check-mate; you played that last move carelessly, Marsden. Your knight +turned traitor!' cried Richard. His handsome profile cut sharply against +the lamplight, he looked cool, on the alert, while Hugh's broad face was +puckered and wrinkled with anxiety. + +'Please do not let me interrupt you!' exclaimed Ethel, hurriedly, 'you +look all so comfortable. I only want to say good-night, every one,' with +a wave of her slim hand as she spoke. + +Richard gave a start, and rose to his feet, as he regarded the queenly +young creature with her pale cheeks and radiant dress. A sort of perfumy +fragrance seemed to pervade him as she brushed lightly past him; +something subtle seemed to steal away his faculties. Had he ever seen +her look so beautiful? + +Ethel stopped and gave him one of her sad, kind smiles. + +'You do not often come to see us now, Richard. I think my father misses +you,' was all she said. + +'I will come--yes--I will come to-morrow,' he stammered. 'I did not +think--you would miss me,' he almost added, but he remembered himself in +time. + +His face grew stern and set as he watched her in the lamplight, gliding +from one to another with a soft word or two. Why was it her appearance +oppressed him to-night? he thought. He had often seen her dressed so +before, and had gloried in her loveliness; to-night it seemed +incongruous, it chilled him--this glittering apparition in the midst of +the family circle. + +She looked more like the probable bride of Sir Robert Ferrers than the +wife of a poor curate, he told himself bitterly, as he watched her slow +lissom movements, the wavy undulating grace that was Ethel's chief +charm, and yet as he thought it he knew he wronged her. For the man she +could love, Ethel would pull off all her glistening gewgaws, put away +from her all the accessories that wealth could give her. Delighting in +luxury, revelling in it, it was in her to renounce it all without a +sigh. + +Richard knew this, and paid her nobleness its just tribute even while he +chafed in his own moodiness. She would do all this, and more than this, +for the man she loved; but could she, would she, ever be brought to do +it for him? + +When alone again with Mildred, Ethel threw her arms round her friend. + +'Oh, Mildred! it seems worse than ever.' + +'My poor dear.' + +'Night after night he sits opposite to me, and we do not speak, except +to exchange commonplaces, and then he carps at every deviation of +opinion.' + +'I know how dreadful it must be.' + +'And then to be brought into the midst of a scene like that,' pointing +to the door they had just closed; 'to see those happy faces and to hear +all that innocent mirth,' as at that moment Polly's girlish laughter was +distinctly audible, with Hugh's pealing 'Ha, ha' following it; 'and then +to remember the room I have just left.' + +'Hush, try to forget it, or the Sigourneys will wonder at your pale +face.' + +'These evenings haunt me,' returned Ethel, with a sort of shudder. 'I +think I am losing my nerve, Mildred; but I feel positively as though I +cannot bear many more of them--the great dimly-lighted room; you know my +weakness for light; but he says it makes his head bad, and those lamps +with the great shades are all he will have; the interminable dinner +which Duncan always seems to prolong, the difficulty of finding a +subject on which we shall not disagree, and the dread of falling into +one of those dreadful pauses which nothing seems to break. Oh, Mildred, +may you never experience it.' + +'Poor Ethel, I can understand it all so well.' + +Ethel dried her eyes. + +'It seems wrong to complain of one's father, but I have not deserved +this loss of confidence; he is trying my dutifulness too much.' + +'It will not fail you. "Let patience have her perfect work," Ethel.' + +'No, you must only comfort me to-night; I am beyond even your wise +maxims, Mildred. I wish I had not come, it makes me feel so sore, and +yet I could not resist the longing to see you on your birthday. See, I +have brought you a gift,' showing her a beautifully-chased cross in her +hand. + +'Dear Ethel, how wrong; I have asked you so often not to overwhelm me +with your presents.' + +'How selfish to deny me my one pleasure. I have thought about this all +day. We have had visitors, a whole bevy from Carlisle, and I could not +get away; and now I must go to that odious party at the Castle.' + +'You must indeed not wait any longer, your friends will be wondering,' +remonstrated Mildred. + +'Oh no, Mrs. Sigourney is always late. You are very unsociable to-night, +Mildred, just when I require so much.' + +'I only wish I knew how to comfort you.' + +'It comforts me to look into your face and hold your hand. Listen, +Mildred--to-night I was so hungry and desolate for want of a kind word +or look, that I grew desperate; it was foolish of me, but I could have +begged for it as a hungry dog will beg for a crumb.' + +'What did you say?' asked Mildred, breathlessly. + +'I went and stood by his chair when I ought to have left the room; that +was a mistake, was it not?' with a low, bitter laugh. 'I think I touched +his sleeve, for he drew it away with a look of surprise. "Papa," I said; +"I cannot bear this any longer. I do not feel as though I were your +child when you never look at me voluntarily."' + +'And what was his answer?' + +'"Ethel, you know I hate scenes, they simply disgust me."' + +'Only that!' + +'No. I was turning away when he called me back in his sternest manner.' + +'"Your reproach is unseemly under the circumstances, but it shall be +answered," he said, and his voice was so hard and cold. "It is my +misfortune that you are my child, for you have never done anything but +disappoint me. Now, do not interrupt me," as I made some faint +exclamation. "I have not withheld my confidence; you know my ambition, +and also that I have lately sustained some very heavy losses; in default +of a son I have looked to you to retrieve our fortunes, but"--in such a +voice of withering scorn--"I have looked in vain."' + +'Bitter words, my poor Ethel; my heart aches for you. What could such a +speech mean? Can it be true that he is really embarrassed?' + +'Only temporarily; you know he dabbles in speculations, and he lost a +good deal by those mining shares last year; that was the reason why we +missed our usual London season. No, it is not that. You see he has never +relinquished the secret ambition of a seat in Parliament. I know him so +well; nothing can turn him from anything on which he has set his heart, +and either of those men would have helped him to compass his end.' + +'He has no right to sacrifice you to his ambition.' + +'You need not fear, I am no Iphigenia. I could not marry Sir Robert, and +I would not marry Mr. Cathcart. Thank Heaven, I have self-respect enough +to guard me from such humiliation. The worst is,' she hesitated, 'papa +is so quick that he found out how his intellect fascinated me; it was +the mere fascination of the moment, and died a natural death; but he +will have it I was not indifferent to him, and it is this that makes him +so mad. He says it is obstinacy, and nothing else.' + +'Mr. Cathcart has not renewed his offer? forgive me,' as Ethel drew +herself up, and looked somewhat offended. 'You know I dread that man--so +sceptical--full of sophistry. Oh, my dear! I cannot help fearing him.' + +'You need not,' with a sad smile; 'my heart is still in my own keeping. +No,' as Mildred's glance questioned her archly, 'I have been guilty of +nothing but a little hero-worship, but nevertheless,' she averred, +'intellect and goodness must go hand-in-hand before I can call any man +my master.' + +'I shall not despair of you finding them together; but come, I will not +let you stay any longer, or your pale cheeks will excite comment. Let me +wrap this cloak round you--come.' + +But Ethel still lingered. + +'Don't let Richard know all this; he takes my unhappiness too much to +heart already; only ask him to come sometimes and break the monotony.' + +'He will come.' + +'Things always seem better when he is with us; he makes papa talk, and +much of the restraint seems removed. Well, good-night; this is sad +birthday-talk, but I could not keep the pain in.' + +As Mildred softly closed the door she saw Richard beside her. + +'What have you been talking about all this time?' he asked, anxiously. + +'Only on the old sore subject. She is very unhappy, Richard; she wants +you to go oftener. You do her father good.' + +'But she looked pale to-night. She is not in fresh trouble, is she, Aunt +Milly?' + +'No, only the misunderstanding gets more every day; we must all do what +we can to lighten her load.' + +Richard made no answer, he seemed thinking deeply; even after Mildred +left him he remained in the same place. + +'One of these days she must know it, and why not now?' he said to +himself, and there was a strange concentrated light in his eyes as he +said it. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE HEART OF COEUR-DE-LION + + 'At length, as suddenly become aware + Of this long pause, she lifted up her face, + And he withdrew his eyes--she looked so fair + And cold, he thought, in her unconscious grace. + Ah! little dreams she of the restless care, + He thought, that makes my heart to throb apace: + Though we this morning part, the knowledge sends + No thrill to her calm pulse--we are but Friends!' + + Jean Ingelow. + + +Mildred pondered long and sorrowfully that night over her friend's +trouble. + +She knew it was no fancied or exaggerated recital of wrongs. The inmates +of the vicarage had commented openly on the Squire's changed looks and +bearing. His cordiality had always savoured more or less of +condescension, but latterly he had held himself aloof from his +neighbours, and there had been a gloomy reserve in his manner that had +made him well-nigh unapproachable. + +Irritable and ready to take offence, and quick to resent even a +difference of opinion, he was already on bad terms with more than one of +his neighbours. Dr. Heriot's well-deserved popularity, and his plainness +of speech, had already given umbrage to his jealous and haughty +temperament. It was noticed on all sides that the Doctor was a less +frequent visitor at Kirkleatham House, and that Mr. Trelawny was much +given to carp at any expressed opinion that emanated from that source. + +This was incomprehensible, to say the least of it, as he had always been +on excellent terms with both father and daughter; but little did any one +guess the real reason of so inexplicable a change. + +Ethel was right when she acknowledged that ambition was her father's +besetting sin; the petty interests of squirearchal life had never +satiated his dominant passion and thirst for power. Side by side with +his ambition, and narrow aims there was a vacuum that he would fain have +filled with work of a broader type, and with a pertinacity that would +have been noble but for its subtle egotism, he desired to sit among the +senators of his people. + +Twice had he essayed and twice been beaten, and it had been whispered +that his hands were not quite clean, with the cleanness of a man to whom +corruption is a hideous snare; and still, with a dogged resolution that +ought to have served him, he determined that one day, and at all costs, +his desire should be accomplished. + +Already there were hints of a coming election, and whispered reports of +a snug borough that would not be too severely contested; but Mr. +Trelawny had another aim. The Conservative member for the next borough +had given offence to his constituents by bringing in a Bill for the +reformation of some dearly-loved abuse. The inhabitants were up in arms; +there had been much speechifying and a procession, during which sundry +well-meaning flatterers had already whispered that the right man in the +right place would be a certain lord of beeves and country squire, to +whom the township and people were as dear as though he had first drawn +breath in their midst. + +Parliament would shortly be dissolved, it was urged, and Mr. Trelawny's +chances would be great; already his friends were canvassing on his +behalf, and among them Mr. Cathcart, of Broadlands. + +The Cathcarts were bankers and the most influential people, and +commanded a great number of votes, and it was Edgar Cathcart who had +used such strong language against the aforesaid member for meddling with +an abuse which had been suffered for at least two hundred years, and was +respectable for its very antiquity. + +Ethel's refusal of Edgar Cathcart had inflicted a deadly blow to her +father's interests, and one that he was never likely to forgive, all the +more that he was shrewd enough to suspect that she had not been +altogether indifferent to his fascination of manner. + +Now above all things he had coveted this man for his son-in-law. +Broadlands and its hereditary thousands would have been no mean match +for the daughter of a country squire. With Edgar Cathcart to back him he +could have snapped his fingers at the few loyal voters who would have +still rallied round their erring townsman, and from a hint that had been +lately dropped, he knew the banker was ready at any moment to renew his +offer; but Ethel had persisted in her refusal, and bitterly and loudly +did her father curse the folly of a girl who could renounce such a +position for a mere whim or fancy. + +'If you do not love him, whom do you love?' he had said to her, and, +courageous as she was, she had quailed before the sneer that had +accompanied his words. + +But she never guessed the thought that rose in his mind as he said them. +'She has some infatuation that makes her proof against other men's +addresses,' he argued angrily with himself. 'No girl in her senses could +be blind to the attraction of a man like Edgar Cathcart unless she has +already given away her heart. I am not satisfied about this fellow +Heriot. He comes here far too often, and she encourages him. I always +thought he meant to marry Lambert's prim sister; but he is so deep there +is no reading him. I shall have to pick a quarrel to get rid of him, for +if he once gets an influence over Ethel, all Cathcart's chances are +gone.' + +Like many other narrow-minded men, Mr. Trelawny brooded over an idea +until it became fixed and ineradicable. Ethel's warm reception of Dr. +Heriot, and her evident pleasure in his society, were construed as so +many evidences of his own sagacity and her guilt. His only child and +heiress, for whom he had planned so splendid a future, intended to throw +herself away on a common country practitioner; she meant to disgrace +herself and him. + +The wound rankled and became envenomed, steeping his whole soul in +bitterness and discontent. He was a disappointed man, he told +himself--disappointed in his ambition and in his domestic affections. He +had loved his wife, as such men love, next to himself; he had had a +certain pride in the possession of her, and though he had ever ruled her +with a rod of iron, he had mingled much fondness with his rule. But she +had left him, and the sons, who had been to him as the twin apples of +his eyes, had gone likewise. He had groaned and humbled himself beneath +that terrible stroke, and had for a little time walked softly as one who +has been smitten justly; and the pathos of his self-pity had been such +that others had been constrained to feel for him, though they marvelled +that his daughter, with the mother's eyes, had so little power to +comfort him. + +There were times when he wondered also, when his veiled coldness showed +rents in it, and he owned to a certain pride in her that was not devoid +of tenderness. + +For it was only of late that he had fallen into such carping ways, and +that the real breach was apparent. It was true Ethel had her mother's +eyes, but she lacked her mother's submissive gentleness; never a meek +woman, she had yet to learn the softness that disarms wrath. Her +open-eyed youth found flaws in everything that was not intrinsically +excellent. She canvassed men and manners with the warm injudiciousness +of undeveloped wisdom; acts were nothing, motives everything, and no +cleanness available that had a stain on its whiteness. + +In place of the plastic girlhood he expected, Mr. Trelawny found himself +confronted by this daring and youthful Argus. He soon discovered Ethel's +inner sympathies were in open revolt against his. It galled him, even in +his pride, to see those clear, candid eyes measuring, half unconsciously +and half incredulously, the narrow limits of his nature. Whatever he +might seem to others, he knew his own child had weighed him in the +balance of her harsh-judging youth, and found him wanting. + +It was not that her manner lacked dutifulness, or that she ever failed +in the outward acts of a daughter; below the surface of their mutual +reserve there was, at least on Ethel's part, a deep craving for a better +understanding; but even if he were secretly fond of her, there was no +denying that Mr. Trelawny was uneasy in her presence; conscience often +spoke to him in her indignant young voice; under those shining blue eyes +ambition seemed paltry, and the stratagems and manoeuvres of party +spirit little better than mere truckling and the low cunning of deceit. + +It would not be too much to say that he almost feared her; that there +were times when this sense of uncongeniality was so oppressive that he +would gladly have got rid of her, when he would rather have been left +alone than endure the silent rebuke of her presence. Of late his anger +had been very great against her; the scorn with which she had defended +herself against his tenacious will had rankled deeply in his mind, and +as yet there was no question of forgiveness. + +If he could not bend her to his purpose he would at least treat her as +one treats a contumacious child. She had spoken words--rash, +unadvisable, but honest words--which even his little soul had felt +deeply. No, he would not forgive her; there should be no confidence, no +loving intercourse between them, till she had given up this foolish +fancy of hers, or at least had brought herself to promise that she would +give it up; and yet, strange to say, though Dr. Heriot had become a +thorn in his side, though the dread of him drove all comfort from his +pillow, he yet lacked courage openly to accuse her; some latent sense of +honour within him checked him from so insulting his motherless child. + +It so happened that on the evening after Mildred's birthday, Dr. Heriot +called up at Kirkleatham House to speak to Mr. Trelawny on some matter +of business. + +Richard was dining there, and Ethel's careworn face had relaxed into +smiles at the sight of her favourite; the gloomy room seemed brightened +somehow, dinner was less long and oppressive, no awful pauses of silence +fell between the father and daughter to be bridged over tremblingly. +Richard's cheerful voice and ready flow of talk--a little forced, +perhaps--went on smoothly and evenly; enthusiasm was not possible under +the chilling restraint of Mr. Trelawny's measured sentences, but at +least Ethel saw the effort and was grateful for it. + +Richard was holding forth fluently on a three days' visit to London that +he had lately paid, when a muttered exclamation from Mr. Trelawny +interrupted him, and a moment afterwards the door-bell rang. + +A shade of angry annoyance passed over the Squire's handsome, face--his +thin lips closed ominously. + +'What does he want at this time of night?' he demanded, darting a +suspicious glance at Ethel, whose quick ears had recognised the +footsteps; her bright flush of pleasure faded away at that wrathful +look; she heaved a little petulant sigh as her father left the room, +closing the door sharply after him. + +'It is like everything else,' she murmured. 'It used to be so pleasant +his dropping in of an evening, but everything seems spoiled somehow.' + +'I do not understand. I thought Dr. Heriot was so intimate here,' +returned Richard, astonished and shocked at this new aspect of things. +Mr. Trelawny's look of angry annoyance had not been lost on him--what +had come to him? would he quarrel with them all? 'I do not understand; I +have been away so long, you know,' and unconsciously his voice took its +softest tone. + +'There is nothing to understand,' replied Ethel, wearily; 'only papa and +he are not such good friends now; they have disagreed in +politics--gentlemen will, you know--and lately Dr. Heriot has vexed him +by insisting on some sanitary reforms in some of the cottages. Papa +hates any interference with his tenants, and it is not easy to silence +Dr. Heriot when he thinks it is his duty to speak.' + +'And sanitary reform is Dr. John's special hobby. Yes, I see; it is a +grievous pity,' assented Richard, and then he resumed the old topic. It +was not that he was unsympathising, but he could not forget the +happiness of being alone with Ethel; the opportunity had come for which +he had longed all last night. As he talked on calmly and rapidly his +temples beat and ached with excitement. Once or twice he stole a furtive +glance as she sat somewhat absently beside him. Could he venture it? +would not his lips close if he essayed a subject at once so sweet and +perilous? As he talked he noted every trick, every gesture; the quaint +fashion of her dress, made of some soft, clinging material; it had a +Huguenot sleeve, he remembered--for she had told him it was designed +from a French picture--and was trimmed with old Venetian point; an +oddly-shaped mosaic ring gleamed on one of her long taper fingers and +was her only ornament. He had never seen her look so picturesque and yet +so sweet as she did that night, but as he looked the last particle of +courage seemed to desert him. Ethel listened only absently as he talked; +she was straining her ears to catch some sound from the adjoining room. +For once Richard's talk wearied her. How loudly the birds were chirping +their good-night--would he come in and wish her good-bye as he used to +do, and then linger for an hour or so over his cup of coffee? Hark! that +was his voice. Was he going? And, oh! surely that was not her father's +answering him. + +'Hush! oh, please hush!' she exclaimed, holding out a hand as though to +silence him, and moving towards the door. 'Oh, Richard, what shall we +do? I knew it would come to this.' + +'Come to what? Is there anything the matter? Please do not look so pale +over it.' What had she heard--what new vexation was this? But as he +stood beside her, even he caught the low, vehement tones of some angry +discussion. There was no denying Ethel's paleness; she almost wrung her +hands. + +'Of course; did I not tell you? Oh, you do not know papa! When he is +angry like this, he will say things that no one can bear. Dr. Heriot +will never come here again--never! He is quarrelling with all his +friends. By and by he will with you, and then you will learn to hate +us.' + +'No, no--you must not say that,' replied Richard, soothingly. With her +distress all his courage had returned. He even ventured to touch her +hand, but she drew it quickly away. She was not thinking of Richard now, +but of a certain kind friend whose wise counsels she had learnt to +value. + +At least he should not go without bidding her good-bye. Ethel never +thought of prudence in these moments of hot indignation. To Richard's +dismay she caught her hand away from him and flung open the door. + +'Why is Dr. Heriot going, papa?' she asked, walking up to them with a +certain majesty of gait which she could assume at times. As she asked +the question she flashed one of her keen, open-eyed looks on her father. +The Squire's olive complexion had turned sallow with suppressed wrath, +the veins on his forehead were swollen like whipcord; as he answered +her, the harshness of his voice grated roughly on her ear. + +'You are not wanted, Ethel; go back to young Lambert. I cannot allow +girls to interfere in my private business.' + +'You have quarrelled with Dr. Heriot, papa,' returned Ethel, in her +ringing tones, and keeping her ground unflinchingly, in spite of +Richard's whispered remonstrance. + +'Come away--you will only make it worse,' he whispered; but she had +turned her face impatiently from him. + +'Papa, it is not right--it is not fair. Dr. Heriot has done nothing to +deserve such treatment; and you are sending him away in anger.' + +'Ethel, how dare you!' returned the Squire. 'Go back into that room +instantly. If you have no self-respect, and cannot control your feeling, +it is my duty to protect you.' + +'Will you protect me by quarrelling with all my friends?' returned +Ethel, in her indignant young voice; her delicate nostrils quivered, the +curve of her long neck was superb. 'Dr. Heriot has only told you the +truth, as he always does.' + +'Indeed, you must not judge your father--after all, he has a right to +choose his own friends in his own house--you are very good, Miss +Trelawny, to try and defend me, but it is your father's quarrel, not +yours.' + +'If you hold intercourse with my daughter after this, you are no man of +honour----' began the Squire with rage, but Dr. Heriot quietly +interrupted him. + +'As far as I can I will respect your strange caprice, Mr. Trelawny; but +I hope you do not mean to forbid my addressing a word to an old friend +when we meet on neutral ground;' and the gentle dignity of his manner +held Mr. Trelawny's wrath in abeyance, until Ethel's imprudence kindled +it afresh. + +'It is not fair--I protest against such injustice!' she exclaimed; but +Dr. Heriot silenced her. + +'Hush, it is not your affair, Miss Trelawny; you are so generous, but, +indeed, your father and I are better apart for a little. When he +retracts what he has said, he will not find me unforgiving. Now, +good-bye.' The brief sternness vanished from his manner, and he held out +his hand to her with his old kind smile, his eyes were full of benignant +pity as he looked at her pale young face; it was so like her generosity +to defend her friends, he thought. + +Richard followed him down the long carriage road, and they stood for a +while outside the lodge gates. If Dr. Heriot held the clue to this +strange quarrel, he kept his own counsel. + +'He is a narrow-minded man with warped views and strong passions; he may +cool down, and find out his mistake one day,' was all he said to +Richard. 'I only pity his daughter for being his daughter.' + +He might well pity her. Richard little thought, as he hurried after his +friend, what an angry hurricane the imprudent girl had brought on +herself; with all her courage, the Squire made her quail and tremble +under his angry sneers. + +'Papa! papa!' was all she could say, when the last bitter arrow was +launched at her. 'Papa, say you do not mean it--that he cannot think +that.' + +'What else can a man think when a girl is fool enough to stand up for +him? For once--yes, for once--I was ashamed of my daughter!' + +'Ashamed of me?'--drawing herself up, but beginning to tremble from head +to foot--that she, Ethel Trelawny, should be subjected to this insult! + +'Yes, ashamed of you! that my daughter should be absolutely courting the +notice of a beggarly surgeon--that----' + +'Papa, I forbid you to say another word,'--in a voice that thrilled +him--it was so like her mother's, when she had once--yes, only +once--risen against the oppression of his injustice--'you have gone too +far; I repel your insinuation with scorn. Dr. Heriot does not think this +of me.' + +'What else can he think?' but he blenched a little under those clear +innocent eyes. + +'He will think I am sorry to lose so good a friend,' she returned, and +her breast heaved a little; 'he will think that Ethel Trelawny hates +injustice even in her own father; he will think what is only true and +kind,' her voice dropping into sadness; and with that she walked +silently from the room. + +She was hard hit, but she would not show it; her step was as proud as +ever till she had left her father's presence, and then it faltered and +slackened, and a great shock of pain came over her face. + +She had denied the insinuation with scorn, but what if he really thought +it? What if her imprudent generosity, always too prone to buckle on +harness for another, were to be construed wrongly--what if in his eyes +she should already have humiliated herself? + +With what sternness he had rebuked her judgment of her father; with him, +want of dutifulness and reverence were heinous sins that nothing could +excuse; she remembered how he had ever praised meekness in women, and +how, when she had laughingly denied all claim to that virtue, he had +answered her half sadly, 'No, you are not meek, and never will be, until +trouble has broken your spirit: you are too aggressive by nature to wear +patiently the "ornament of a meek and quiet spirit;"' and she remembered +how that half-jesting, half-serious speech had troubled her. + +Ethel's feeling for Dr. Heriot had been the purest hero-worship; she had +been proud of his friendship, and the loss of it under any circumstances +would have troubled her sadly; she had never blinded herself to the fact +that more than this would be impossible. + +Already her keen eyes had lighted on his probable choice, some one who +should bring meekness in lieu of beauty, and fill his home with the +sunshiny sweetness of her smile. 'She will be a happy woman, whoever she +is,' thought Ethel, with a sigh, not perfectly free from envy; there +were so few men who were good as well as wise, 'and this was one,' she +said to herself, and a flood of sadness came over her as she remembered +that speech about her lack of meekness. + +If he could only think well of her--if she had not lost caste in his +eyes, she thought, it might still be well with her, and in a half-sad, +half-jesting way she had pictured her life as Ethel Trelawny always, +'walking in maiden meditation fancy free,' a little solitary, perhaps, a +trifle dull, but wiser and better when the troublesome garb of youth was +laid aside, and she could--as in very honesty she longed to do now--call +all men her brothers. But the proud maidenly reserve was stabbed at all +points; true, or untrue, Ethel was writhing under those sneering words. +Richard found her, on his return, standing white and motionless by the +window; her eyes had a plaintive look in them as of a wild animal too +much hurt to defend itself; her pale cheeks alarmed him. + +'Why do you agitate yourself so? there is no cause! Dr. Heriot has just +told me it is a mere quarrel that may be healed any time.' + +'It is not that--it is those bitter cruel words,' she returned, in a +strange, far-away voice; 'that one's own father should say such things,' +and then her lip quivered, and two large tears welled slowly to her +eyes. Ah, there was the secret stab--her own father! + +'My dear Miss Trelawny--Ethel--I cannot bear to see you like this. You +are overwrought--all this has upset you. Come into the air and let us +talk a little.' + +'What is there to talk about?' she returned dreamily. + +He had called her Ethel for the first time since their old childish +days, and she had not noticed it. She offered no resistance as he +brought a soft fleecy shawl and wrapped it round her, and then gently +removed the white motionless fingers that were clutching the +window-frame; as they moved hand in hand over the grassy terrace, she +was quite unconscious of the firm, warm pressure; somewhere far away she +was thinking of a forlorn Ethel, whose father had spoken cruel words to +her. Richard was always good to her--always; there was nothing new in +that. Only once she turned and smiled at her favourite, with a smile so +sad and sweet that it almost broke his heart. + +'How kind you are; you always take such care of me, Richard.' + +'I wish I could--I wish I dare try,' he returned, in an odd, choked +voice. 'Let us go to your favourite seat, Ethel; the sun has not set +yet.' + +'It has set for me to-night,' she replied, mournfully. + +The creeping mists winding round the blue bases of the far-off hills +suited her better, she thought. She followed Richard mechanically into +the quaint kitchen garden; there was a broad terrace-walk, with a seat +placed so as to command the distant view; great bushes of cabbage-roses +and southernwood scented the air; gilly-flowers, and sweet-williams, and +old-fashioned stocks bloomed in the borders; below them the garden +sloped steeply to the crofts, and beyond lay the circling hills. In the +distance they could hear the faint pealing of the curfew bell, and the +bleating of the flocks in the crofts. + +Ethel drew a deep sigh; the sweet calmness of the scene seemed to soothe +her. + +'You were right to bring me here,' she said at last, gratefully. + +'I have brought you here--because I want to speak to you,' returned +Richard, with the same curious break in his voice. + +His temples were beating still, but he was calm, strangely calm, he +remembered afterwards. How did it happen? were the words his own or +another's? How did it come that she was shrinking away from him with +that startled look in her eyes, and that he was speaking in that low, +passionate voice? Was it this he meant when he called her Ethel? + +'No, no! say you do not mean it, Richard! Oh, Richard, Richard!' her +voice rising into a perfect cry of pain. What, must she lose him too? + +'Dear, how can I say it? I have always meant to tell you--always; it is +not my fault that I have loved you, Ethel; the love has grown up and +become a part of myself ever since we were children together!' + +'Does Mildred--does any one know?' she asked, and a vivid crimson +mantled in her pale cheeks as she asked the question. + +'Yes, my father knows--and Aunt Milly. I think they all guessed my +secret long ago--all but you,' in a tenderly reproachful voice; 'why +should they not know? I am not ashamed of it,' continued the young man, +a little loftily. + +Somehow they had changed characters. It was Ethel who was timid now. + +'But--but--they could not have approved,' she faltered at last. + +'Why should they not approve? My father loves you as a daughter--they +all do; they would take you into their hearts, and you would never be +lonely again. Oh, Ethel, is there no hope? Do you mean that you cannot +love me?' + +'I have always loved you; but we are too young, yes, that is it, we are +too young--too much of an age. If I marry, I must look up to my husband. +Indeed, indeed, we are too young, Richard!' + +'I am, you mean;' how calm he was growing; why his very voice was under +his control now. 'Listen to me, dear: I am only six months older than +you, but in a love like mine age does not count; it is no boyish lover +you are dismissing, Ethel; I am older in everything than you; I should +not be afraid to take care of you.' + +No, he was not afraid; as she looked up into that handsome resolute +face, and read there the earnestness of his words, Ethel's eyes dropped +before that clear, dominant glance as they had never done before. It was +she that was afraid now--afraid of this young lover, so grave, so +strong, so self-controlled; this was not her old favourite, this new, +quiet-spoken Richard. She would fain have kept them both, but it must +not be. + +'May I speak to your father?' he pleaded. 'At least you will be frank +with me; I have little to offer, I know--a hard-working curate's home, +and that not yet.' + +'Hush! I will not have this from you,' and for a moment Ethel's true +woman's soul gleamed in her eyes; 'if you were penniless it would make +no difference; I would give up anything, everything for the man I loved. +For shame, Richard, when you know I loathe the very name of riches.' + +'Yes, I know your great soul, Ethel; it is this that I love even more +than your beauty, and I must not tell you what I think of that; it is +not because I am poor and unambitious that you refuse me?' + +'No, no,' she returned hurriedly; 'you know it is not.' + +'And you do not love any one else?' + +'No, Richard,' still more faintly. + +'Then I will not despair,' and as he spoke there rushed upon him a +sudden conviction, from whence he knew not, that one day this girl whom +he was wooing so earnestly, and who was silencing him with such brief +sweet replies, should one day be his wife; that the beauty, and the +great soul, and the sad yearning heart should be his and no other's; +that one day--a long distant day, perhaps--he should win her for his +own. + +And with the conviction, as he told Mildred long afterwards, there came +a settled calm, and a wonderful strength that he never felt before; the +world, his own world, seemed flooded over with this great purpose and +love of his; and as he stood there before her, almost stooping over, and +yet not touching her, there came a vivid brightness into his eyes that +scared Ethel. + +'Of what are you thinking, Richard?' she said almost tremblingly. + +'Nay, I must not tell you.' + +Should he tell her? would she credit this strange prophecy of his? dimly +across his mind, as he stood there before her, there came the thought of +a certain shepherd, who waited seven years for the Rachel of his love. + +'No, I will not tell you; dear, give me your hand,' and as she gave it +him--wondering and yet fearful--he touched it lightly and reverently +with his lips. + +'Now I must go. Some day--years hence, perhaps--I shall speak of this +again; until then we are friends still, is it not so?' + +'Yes--yes,' she returned eagerly; 'we must try to forget this. I cannot +lose you altogether, Richard.' + +'You will never lose me; perhaps--yes it will be better--I may go away +for a little time; you must promise me one thing, to take care of +yourself, if only for the sake of your old friend Richard.' + +'Yes, I will promise,' she returned, bursting into tears. Oh, why was +her heart so hard; why could she not love him? As she looked after him, +walking with grave even strides down the garden path, a passionate pity +and yearning seemed to wake in her heart. How good he was, how noble, +how true. 'Oh, if he were not so young, and I could love him as he ought +to be loved,' she said to herself as the gate clanged after him, and she +was left alone in the sunset. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +WHARTON HALL FARM + + 'A dappled sky, a world of meadows, + Circling above us the black rooks fly + Forward, backward; lo, their dark shadow + Flits on the blossoming tapestry. + + Bare grassy slopes, where kids are tethered + Round valleys like nests all ferny-lined, + Round hills, with fluttering tree-tops feathered, + Swell high in their freckled robes behind.' + + Jean Ingelow. + + +Mr. Lambert was soon made acquainted with his son's disappointment; but +his sympathy was somewhat chilled by Richard's composed tranquillity of +bearing. Perhaps it might be a little forced, but the young man +certainly bore himself as though he had sustained no special defeat; the +concentrated gravity of purpose which had scared Ethel was still +apparent. + +'You need not be so anxious about me, father,' he said, with almost a +smile, in return to Mr. Lambert's look of questioning sadness. 'I have +climbed too high and have had a fall, that is all. I must bear what +other and better men have borne before me.' + +'My brave boy; but, Cardie, is there no hope of relenting; none?' + +'She would not have me, that is all I can tell you,' returned Richard, +in the same quiet voice. 'You must not take this too much to heart; it +is my fate to love her, and to go on loving her; if she refused me a +dozen times, it would be the same with me, father.' + +Mr. Lambert shook his head; he was greatly troubled; for the moment his +heart was a little sore against this girl, who was the destroyer of his +son's peace. + +'You may hide it from me, but you will eat out your heart with sadness +and longing,' he said, with something of a groan. Richard was very dear +to him, though he was not Benjamin. He was more like Joseph, he thought, +a little quaintly, as he looked up at the noble young face. 'Yes, +Joseph, the ruler among his brethren. Ah, Cardie, it is not to be, I +suppose; and now you will eat out your heart and youth with the longing +after this girl.' + +'Do not think so meanly of me,' returned the young man with a flush. +'You loved my mother for three years before you married her, and I only +pleaded my cause yesterday. Do you think I should be worthy of loving +the noblest, yes, the noblest of women,' he continued, his gray eyes +lighting up with enthusiasm, 'if I were so weakly to succumb to this +disappointment. _Laborare est orare_--that shall be my motto, father. We +must leave results in higher hands.' + +'God bless and comfort you, my son,' returned Mr. Lambert, with some +emotion. He looked at Richard with a sort of tender reverence; would +that all disappointed lovers could bear themselves as generously as his +brave boy, he thought; and then they sat for a few minutes in silence. + +'You do not mind my going away for a little while? I think Roy would be +glad to have me?' asked Richard presently. + +'No, Cardie; but we shall be sorry to lose you.' + +'If I were only thinking of myself, I would remain; but it will be +better for her,' he continued, hesitating; 'she could not come here, at +least, not yet; but if I were away it would make no difference. I want +you all to be kinder than ever to her, father,' and now his voice shook +a little for the first time. 'You do not know how utterly lonely and +miserable she is,' and the promise given, Richard quietly turned the +conversation into other channels. + +But he was less reticent with Mildred, and to her he avowed that his +pain was very great. + +'I can bear to live without her; at least I could be patient for years, +but I cannot bear leaving her to her father's sorry protection. If my +love could only shield her in her trouble, I think I could be content,' +and Mildred understood him. + +'We will all be so good to her for your sake,' she returned, with a nice +womanly tact, not wearying him with effusion of sympathy, but giving him +just the comforting assurance he needed. Richard's fortitude and +calmness had deceived his father, but Mildred knew something of the +silence of exceeding pain. + +'Thank you,' he said in a low voice; and Mildred knew she had said the +right thing. + +But as he was bidding them good-bye two days afterwards, he beckoned her +apart from the others. + +'Aunt Milly, I trust her to you,' he said, hurriedly; 'remember all my +comfort lies in your goodness to her.' + +'Yes, Richard, I know; as far as I can, I will be her friend. You shall +hear everything from me,' and so she sent him away half-comforted. + +Half--comforted, though his heart ached with its mighty burden of love; +and though he would have given half his strong young years to hear her +say, 'I love you, Richard.' Could older men love better, nay, half as +well as he did, with such self-sacrificing purity and faith? + +Yes, his pain was great, for delay and uncertainty are bitter to the +young, and they would fain cleave with impatient hand the veiled mystery +of life; but nevertheless his heart was strong within him, for though he +could not speak of his hope, for fear that others might call it +visionary, yet it stirred to the very foundation of his soul; for so +surely as he suffered now, he knew that one day he should call Ethel +Trelawny his wife. + +When Richard was gone, and the household unobservant and occupied in its +own business, Mildred quietly fetched her shady hat, and went through +the field paths, bordered by tall grasses and great shining ox-eyed +daises, which led to the shrubberies of Kirkleatham. + +The great house was blazing in the sunshine; Ethel's doves were cooing +from the tower; through the trees Mildred could see the glimmer of a +white gown; the basket-work chair was in its old place, under her +favourite acacia tree; the hills looked blue and misty in the distance. + +Ethel turned very pale when she saw her friend, and there was visible +constraint in her manner. + +'I did not expect you; you should not have come out in all this heat, +Mildred.' + +'I knew you would scold me; but I have not seen you for nearly a week, +so I came through the tropics to look after you,' returned Mildred, +playfully. 'You are under my care now. Richard begged me to be good to +you,' she continued, more seriously. + +A painful flush crossed Ethel's face; her eyelids dropped. + +'You must not let this come between us, Ethel; it will make him more +unhappy than he is, and I fear,' speaking still more gravely, 'that +though he says so little about himself, that he must be very unhappy.' + +Ethel tried ineffectually to control her emotion. + +'I could not help it. You have no right to blame me, Mildred,' she said +in a low voice. + +'No, you could not help it! Who blames you, dear?--not I, nor Richard. +It was not your fault, my poor Ethel, that you could not love your old +playmate. It is your misfortune and his, that is all.' + +'I know how good he is,' returned Ethel, with downcast eyes. Yes, it was +her misfortune, she knew; was he not brave and noble, her knight, _sans +peur_ and _sans reproche_, her lion-hearted Richard? Could any man be +more worthy of a woman's love?--and yet she had said him 'nay.' 'I know +he is good, too good,' she said, with a little spasm of fury against her +own hardness of heart, 'and I was a churl to refuse his love.' + +'Hush; how could you help it? we cannot control these things, we women,' +returned Mildred, still anxious to soothe. She looked at the pale girl +before her with a feeling of tender awe, not unmixed with envy, that she +should have inspired such passionate devotion, and yet remained +untouched by it. This was a puzzle to gentle Mildred. 'You must try to +put it all out of your mind, and come to us again,' she finished, with +an unconscious sigh. 'Richard wished it; that is why he has gone away.' + +'Has he gone away?' asked Ethel with a startled glance, and Mildred's +brief resentment vanished when she saw how heavy the once brilliant eyes +looked. Richard would have been grieved as well as comforted if he had +known how many tears Ethel's hardness of heart had caused her. She had +been thinking very tenderly of him until Mildred came between her and +the sunshine; she was sorry and yet relieved to hear he was gone; the +pain of meeting him again would be so great, she thought. + +'It was wise of him to go, was it not?' returned Mildred. 'It was just +like his kind consideration. Oh, you do not know Richard.' + +'No, I do not know him,' replied Ethel, humbly. 'When he came and spoke +to me, I would not believe it was he, himself; it seemed another +Richard, so different. Oh, Mildred, tell me that you do not hate me for +being so hard, not as I hate myself.' + +'No, no, my poor child,' returned Mildred fondly. Ethel had thrown +herself on the grass beside her friend, and was looking up in her face +with great pathetic eyes. With her white gown and pale cheeks she looked +very young and fair. Mildred was thankful Richard could not see her. +'No, whatever happens, we shall always be the same to each other. I +shall only love you a little more because Richard loves you.' + +There was not much talk after that. Ethel's shyness was not easily to be +overcome. The sweet dreamy look had come back to her eyes. Mildred had +forgiven her; she would not let this pain come between them; she might +still be with her friends at the vicarage; and as she thought of this +she blessed Richard in her heart for his generosity. + +But Mildred went back a little sadly down the croft, and through the +path with the great white daisies. The inequality of things oppressed +her; the surface of their little world seemed troubled and disturbed as +though with some impending changes. They were girls and boys no longer, +but men and women, with full-grown capacities for joy and sorrow, with +youthful desires stretching hither and thither. + +'Most men work out their lot in life. After all, Cardie may get his +heart's desire; it is only women who must wait till their fate comes to +them, sometimes with empty hands,' thought Mildred, a little +rebelliously, looking over the long level of sunshine that lay before +her; and then she shook off the thought as though it stung her, and +hummed a little tune as she filled her basket with roses. 'Roses and +sunshine; a golden paradise hiding somewhere behind the low blue hills; +the earth, radiant under the Divine glittering smile; a fragrant wind +sweeping over the sea of grass, till it rippled with green light; "and +God saw that it was good," this beautiful earth that He had made, yes, +it is good; it is only we who cloud and mar its brightness with our +repinings,' thought Mildred, preaching to herself softly, as she laid +the white buds among her ferns. 'A jarring note, a missing chord, and we +are out of harmony with it all; and though the sun shines, the midges +trouble us.' + +It was arranged that on the next day Mr. Marsden was to escort Mildred +and her nieces to Wharton Hall, that the young curate might have an +opportunity of witnessing a Westmorland clipping. + +It was an intensely hot afternoon, but neither Polly nor Chriss were +willing to give up the expedition. So as Mildred was too good-natured to +plead a headache as an excuse, and as Olive was always ready to enact +the part of a martyr on an emergency, neither of them owned how greatly +they dreaded the hot, shadeless roads. + +'It is a long lane that has no turning,' gasped Hugh, as they reached +the little gate that bounded the Wharton Hall property. 'It is a mercy +we have escaped sunstroke.' + +'Providence is kinder than you deserve, you see,' observed a quiet voice +behind him. + +And there was Dr. Heriot leading his horse over the turf. + +'Miss Lambert, have you taken leave of your usual good sense, or have +you forgotten to consult your thermometer?' + +'I was unwilling to disappoint the girls, that was all,' returned +Mildred; 'they were so anxious that Mr. Marsden should be initiated into +the mysteries of sheep-clipping. Mrs. Colby has promised us some tea, +and we shall have a long rest, and return in the cool of the evening.' + +'I think I shall get an invitation for tea too. My mare has lamed +herself, and I wanted Michael Colby's head man to see her; he is a handy +fellow. I was here yesterday on business; they were clipping then.' + +'Mr. Marsden ought to have been here two years ago,' interposed Polly +eagerly. 'Mr. Colby got up a regular old-fashioned clipping for Aunt +Milly. Oh, it was such fun.' + +'What! are there fashions in sheep-shearing?' asked Hugh, in an amused +tone. They were still standing by the little gate, under the shade of +some trees; before them were the farm-buildings and outhouses; and the +great ivied gateway, which led to the courtyard and house. Under the +gray walls were some small Scotch oxen; a peacock trailed its feathers +lazily in the dust. The air was resonant with the bleating of sheep and +lambs; the girls in their white dresses and broad-brimmed hats made a +pretty picture under the old elms. Mildred looked like a soft gray +shadow behind them. + +'There are clippings and clippings,' returned Dr. Heriot, sententiously, +in answer to Hugh's half-amused and half-contemptuous question. 'This is +a very ordinary affair compared with that to which Polly refers.' + +'How so?' asked Hugh, curiously. + +'Owners of large stocks, I have been told, often have their sheep +clipped in sections, employ a certain number of men from day to day, and +provide a certain number of sheep, each clipper turning off seven or +eight sheep an hour.' + +'Well, and the old-fashioned clipping?' + +'Oh, that was another affair, and involved feasting and revelry. The +owner of a farm like this, for example, sets apart a special day, and +bids his friends and neighbours for miles round to assist him in the +work. It is generally considered that a man should clip threescore and +ten sheep in a day, a good clipper fourscore.' + +'I thought the sheep-washing last month a very amusing sight.' + +'Ah, Sowerby tells me that sheep improve more between washing and +clipping than at any other period of equal length. Have you ever seen +Best's _Farming Book_, two hundred years old? If you can master the old +spelling, it is very curious to read. It says there "that a man should +always forbear clipping his sheep till such time as he find their wool +indifferently well risen from the skin; and that for divers reasons."' + +'Give us the reasons,' laughed Hugh. 'I believe if I were not in holy +orders I should prefer farming to any other calling.' And Dr. Heriot +drew out a thick notebook. + +'I was struck with the quaintness, and copied the extract out verbatim. +This is what old Best says:-- + + '"I. When the wool is well risen from the skin the fleece is as + it were walked together on the top, and underneath it is but + lightly fastened to the undergrowth; and when a fleece is thus + it is called a mattrice coat. + + '"II. When wool is thus risen there is no waste, for it comes + wholly off without any bits or locks. + + '"III. Fleeces, when they are thus, are far more easy to wind + up, and also more easy for the clippers, for a man may almost + pull them off without any clipping at all. + + '"IV. Sheep that have their wool thus risen have, without + question, a good undergrowth, whereby they will be better able + to endure a storm than those that have all taken away to the + very skin." + +'You will notice, Marsden, as I did when I first came here, that the +sheep are not so clearly shorn as in the south. They have a rough, +almost untidy look; but perhaps the keener climate necessitates it. An +old proverb says:-- + + "The man that is about to clip his sheepe + Must pray for two faire dayes and one faire weeke."' + +'That needs translation, Dr. Heriot. Chriss looks puzzled.' + +'I must annotate Best, then. And here Michael Sowerby is my informant. +Don't you see, farmers like a fine day beforehand, that the wool may be +dry--the day he clips, and the ensuing week--that the sheep may be +hardened, and their wool somewhat grown before a storm comes.' + +'They shear earlier in the south,' observed Hugh. He was curiously +interested in the whole thing. + +'According to Best it used to be here in the middle of June, but it is +rarely earlier than the end of June or beginning of July. There is an +old saying, and a very quaint one, that you should not clip your sheep +till you see the "grasshopper sweat," and it depends on the nature of +the season--whether early or late--when this phenomenon appears in the +pastures.' + +'I see no sort of information comes amiss to Dr. Heriot,' was Hugh's +admiring aside to Olive. + +Olive smiled, and nodded. The conversation had not particularly +interested her, but she liked this idle lingering in the shade; the +ivied walls and gateway, and the small blue-black cattle, with the +peacock strutting in the sun, made up a pretty picture. She followed +almost reluctantly, when Dr. Heriot stretched himself, and called to his +mare, who was feeding beside them, and then led the way to the +sheep-pens. Here there was blazing sunshine again, hoarse voices and +laughing, and the incessant bleating of sheep, and all the bustle +attendant on a clipping. + +Mr. Colby came forward to meet them, with warm welcome. He was a tall, +erect man, with a pleasant, weatherbeaten face, and a voice with the +regular Westmorland accent. Hugh, as the newcomer, was treated with +marked attention, and regret was at once manifested that he should only +witness such a very poor affair. + +But Hugh Marsden, who had been bred in towns, thought it a very novel +and amusing sight. There were ten or twelve clippers at work, each +having his stool or creel, his pair of shears, and a small cord to bind +the feet of the victims. + +The patient creatures lay helplessly under the hands that were so +skilfully denuding them of their fleece. Sometimes there was a +struggling mass of wool, but in most instances there was no resistance, +and it was impossible to help admiring the skill and rapidity of some of +the clippers. + +The flock was penned close at hand; boys caught them when wanted, and +brought them to the clippers, received them when shorn, and took them to +the markers, who also applied the tar to the wounded. + +In the distance the lambs were being dipped, and filled the air with +their distressful bleatings, refusing to recognise in the shorn, +miserable creatures that advanced to meet them the comfortable fleecy +parents they had left an hour ago. + +Olive watched the heartrending spectacle till her heart grew pitiful. +The poor sheep themselves were baffled by the noxious sulphur with which +the fleece of the lambs were dripping. In the pasture there was +confusion, a mass of white shivering bodies, now and then ecstasies, +recognition, content. To her the whole thing was a living poem--the +innocent faces, the unrest, the plaintive misery, were intact with +higher meanings. + +'This miserable little lamb, dirty and woebegone, cannot find its +mother,' she thought to herself. 'It is even braving the terrors of the +crowded yard to find her; even with these dumb, unreasoning creatures, +love casteth out fear.' + +'Mr. Colby has been telling us such a curious thing,' said Hugh, coming +to her side, and speaking with his usual loud-voiced animation. 'He says +that in the good old times the Fell clergy always attended these +clippings, and acted the part of "doctor;" I mean applied the tar to the +wounded sheep.' + +'Colby has rather a racy anecdote on that subject,' observed Dr. Heriot, +overhearing him. 'Let's have it, Michael, while your wife's tea is +brewing. By the bye, I have not tasted your "clipping ale" yet.' + +'All right, doctor, it is to the fore. If the story you mean concerns +the election of a minister, I think I remember it.' + +'Of course you do; two of the electors were discussing the merits of the +rival candidates, one of whom had preached his trial sermon that day.' + +Michael Colby rubbed his head thoughtfully. + +'Ay, ay; now I mind.' + +'"Ay," says one, "a varra good sarmon, John; I think he'll du."' + +'"Du," says John; "ay, fer a Sunday priest, I'll grant ye, he's aw weel +enugh; byt fer clippens en kirsnens toder 'ill bang him aw't nowt."' + +Mildred was no longer able to conceal that her head ached severely, and, +at a whispered request from Polly, Dr. Heriot led the way to the +farmhouse. + +Strangers, seeing Wharton Hall for the first time, are always struck by +the beauty of the old gateway, mantled in ivy, through which is the trim +flower-bordered inclosure, with its comfortable dwelling-house and low, +long dairy, and its picturesque remnant of ruins, the whole forming +three sides of a quadrangle. + +Wharton Hall itself was built by Thomas Lord Wharton about the middle of +the sixteenth century, and is a good specimen of a house of the period. +Part of it is now in ruins, a portion of it occupied as a farmhouse. + +Mrs. Colby, a trim, natty-looking little body, was bustling about the +great kitchen with her maids. Tea was not quite ready, and there was a +short interval of waiting, in a long, narrow room upstairs, with a great +window, looking over the dairy and garden, and the beautiful old +gateway. + +'I call this my ideal of a farmhouse!' cried Hugh enthusiastically, as +they went down the old crazy staircase, having peeped into a great empty +room, which Polly whispered would make a glorious ballroom. + +The sunshine was streaming into the great kitchen through the narrow +windows. July as it was, a bright fire burnt in the huge fireplace; the +little round table literally groaned under the dainties with which it +was spread; steel forks and delicate old silver spoons lay side by side, +the great clock ticked, the red-armed maids went clattering through the +flagged passages and dairies, a brood of little yellow chickens clucked +and pecked outside in the dust. + +'What a picture it all is,' said Olive; and Dr. Heriot laughed. The +white dresses and the girls' fresh faces made up the principal part of +the picture to him. The grand old kitchen, the sunshine, and the gateway +outside were only the background, the accessories of the whole. + +Polly wore a breast-knot of pale pinky roses; she had laid aside her +broad-brimmed hat; as she moved hither and thither in her trailing +dress, with her short, almost boyishly-cropped hair, she looked so +graceful and piquante that Dr. Heriot's eyes followed her everywhere +with unconscious pleasure. + +Polly was more than eighteen now, but her hair had never grown +properly--it was still tucked behind the pretty little ears, and the +smooth glossy head still felt like the down of an unfledged bird; 'there +was something uncommon about Polly Ellison's style,' as people said, and +as Mildred sometimes observed to Dr. Heriot--'Polly is certainly growing +very pretty.' + +He thought so now as he watched the delicate, high-bred face, the cheeks +as softly tinted as the roses she wore. Polly's gentle fun always made +her the life of the party; she was busily putting in the sugar with the +old-fashioned tongs--she carried the cups to Dr. Heriot and Hugh with +saucy little speeches. + +How well Mildred remembered that evening afterwards. Dr. Heriot had +placed her in the old rocking-chair beside the open window, and had +thrown himself down on the settle beside her. Chriss, who was a regular +salamander, had betaken herself to the farmer's great elbow-chair; the +other girls and Hugh had gathered round the little table; the sunshine +fell full on Hugh's beaming face and Olive's thoughtful profile; how +peaceful and bright it all was, she thought, in spite of her aching +head; the girlish laughter pealed through the room, the sparrows and +martins chirped from the ivy, the sheep bleating sounded musically from +the distance. + +'It is an ill wind that blows no one any good,' laughed Dr. Heriot; 'my +mare's lameness has given me an excuse for idleness. Look at that fellow +Marsden; it puts one into a good temper only to look at him; he reminds +one of a moorland breeze, so healthy and so exuberant.' + +'We are going to see the dairy!' cried Polly, springing up; 'Chriss and +I and Mr. Marsden. Olive is too lazy to come.' + +'No, I am only tired,' returned Olive, a little weary of the mirth and +longing for quiet. + +When the others had gone she stole up the crazy stairs and stood for a +long time in the great window looking at the old gateway. They all +wondered where she was, when Hugh found her and brought her down, and +they walked home through the gray glimmering fields. + +'I wonder of what you were thinking when I came in and startled you?' +asked Hugh presently. + +'I don't know--at least I cannot tell you,' returned Olive, blushing in +the dusky light. Could she tell any one the wonderful thoughts that +sometimes came to her at such hours; would he understand it if she +could? + +The young man looked disconcerted--almost hurt. + +'You think I should not understand,' he returned, a little piqued, in +spite of his sweet temper; 'you have never forgiven me my scepticism +with regard to poetry. I thought you did not bear malice, Miss Olive.' + +'Neither do I,' she returned, distressed. 'I was only sorry for you +then, and I am sorry now you miss so much; poetry is like music, you +know, and seems to harmonise and go with everything.' + +'Nature has made me prosaic and stupid, I suppose,' returned Hugh, +almost sorrowfully. He did not like to be told that he could not +understand; he had a curious notion that he would like to know the +thoughts that had made her eyes so soft and shining; it seemed strange +to him that any girl should dwell so apart in a world of her own. 'How +you must despise me,' he said at last, with a touch of bitterness, 'for +being what I am.' + +'Hush, Mr. Marsden, how can you talk so?' returned Olive in a voice of +rebuke. + +The idea shocked her. What were her beautiful thoughts compared to his +deeds--her dreamy, contemplative life contrasted with his intense +working energies? As she looked up at the great broad-shouldered young +fellow striding beside her, with swinging arms and great voice, and +simple boyish face, it came upon her that perhaps his was the very +essence of poetry, the entire harmony of mind and will with the work +that was planned for him. + +'Oh, Mr. Marsden, you must never say that again,' she said earnestly, so +that Hugh was mollified. + +And then, as was often the case with the foolish-fond fellow, when he +could get a listener, he descanted eagerly about his little Croydon +house and his mother and sisters. Olive was always ready to hear what +interested people; she thought Hugh was not without a certain homely +poetry as she listened--perhaps the moonlight, the glimmering fields, or +Olive's soft sympathy inspired him; but he made her see it all. + +The little old house, with its faded carpet and hangings, and its +cupboards of blue dragon-china--'bogie-china' as they had called it in +their childhood--the old-fashioned country town, the gray old +almshouses, Church Street, steep and winding, and the old church with +its square tower, and four poplar trees--yes, she could see it all. + +Olive and Chriss even knew all about Dora and Florence and Sophy; they +had seen their photographs at least a dozen times, large, plain-featured +women, with pleasant kindly eyes, Dora especially. + +Dora was an invalid, and wrote little books for the Christian Knowledge +Society, and Florence and Sophy gave lessons in the shabby little +parlour that looked out on Church Street; through the wire blinds the +sisters' little scholars looked out at the old-fashioned butcher's shop +and the adjoining jeweller's. At the back of the house there was a long +narrow garden, with great bushes of lavender and rosemary. + +The letters that came to Hugh were all fragrant with lavender, great +bunches of it decked the vases in his little parlour at Miss Farrer's; +antimacassars, knitted socks, endless pen-wipers and kettle-holders, +were fashioned for Hugh in the little back room with its narrow windows +looking over the garden, where Dora always lay on her little couch. + +'She is such a good woman--they are all such good women,' he would say, +with clumsy eloquence that went to Olive's heart; 'they are never sad +and moping, they believe the best of everybody, and work from morning +till night, and they are so good to the poor, Sophy especially.' + +'How I should like to know them,' Olive would reply simply; she believed +Hugh implicitly when he assured her that Florence was the handsomest +woman he knew; love had beautified those plain-featured women into +absolute beauty, divine kindness and goodness shone out of their eyes, +devotion and purity had transformed them. + +'That is what Dora says, she would so like to know you; they have read +your book and they think it beautiful. They say you must be so good to +have such thoughts!' cried Hugh, with sudden effusion. + +'What are you two young people talking about?' cried Dr. Heriot's voice +in the darkness. 'Polly has quarrelled with me, and Chriss is cross, and +Miss Lambert is dreadfully tired.' + +'Are you tired, Aunt Milly? Mr. Marsden has been telling me about his +sisters, and--and--I think we have had a little quarrel too.' + +'No, it was I that was cross,' returned Hugh, with his big laugh; 'it +always tries my temper when people talk in an unknown tongue.' + +Olive gave him a kind look as she bade him good-night. + +'I have enjoyed hearing about your sisters, so you must never call +yourself prosaic and stupid again, Mr. Marsden,' she said, as she +followed the others into the house. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +UNDER STENKRITH BRIDGE + + 'I never felt chill shadow in my heart + Until this sunset.'--George Eliot. + + +A few days after the Wharton Hall clipping, Mildred went down to the +station to see some friends off by the train to Penrith. A party of +bright-faced boys and girls had invaded the vicarage that day, and +Mildred, who was never happier than when surrounded by young people, had +readily acceded to their petition to walk back with them to the station. + +It was a lovely July evening, and as Mildred waved her last adieu, and +ascended the steps leading to the road, she felt tempted to linger, and, +instead of turning homewards, to direct her steps to a favourite place +they often visited--Stenkrith Bridge. + +Stenkrith Bridge lies just beyond the station, and carries the Nateby +road across the river and the South Durham railway. On either side of +the road there are picturesque glimpses of this lovely spot. Leaning +over the bridge, one can see huge fragmentary boulders, deep shining +pools, and the spray and froth of a miniature cascade. + +There is an interesting account of this place by a contemporary which is +worthy of reproduction. + +He says, 'Above the bridge the water of Eden finds its way under, +between, or over some curiously-shaped rocks, locally termed "brockram," +in which, by the action of pebbles driven round and round by the water +in times of flood, many curious holes have been formed. Just as it +reaches the bridge, the water falls a considerable depth into a +round-shaped pool or "lum," called Coop Kernan Hole: the word hole is an +unnecessary repetition. The place has its name from the fact that by the +action of the water it has been partly hollowed out between the rock; at +all events, is cup or coop-shaped, and the water which falls into it is +churned and agitated like cream in an old-fashioned churn, before +escaping through the fissures of the rocks. + +'After falling into Coop Kernan Hole, the water passes through a narrow +fissure into another pool or lum at the low side of the bridge, called +"Spandub," which has been so named because the distance of the rocks +between which the river ran, and which overshadow it, could be spanned +by the hand. + +'We doubt not that grown men and adventurous youths had many a time +stretched their hands across the narrow chasm, and remembered and talked +about it when far away from their native place; and when strangers came +to visit our town, and saw the beautiful river, on the banks of which it +stands, they would be hard to convince that half a mile higher up it was +only a span wide. But William Ketching came lusting for notoriety, +stretched out his evil hand across the narrow fissure, declared he would +be the last man to span Eden, and with his walling-hammer broke off +several inches from that part of the rock where it was most nearly +touching. "It was varra bad," says an old friend of ours who remembers +the incident; "varra bad on him; he sudn't hev done it. It was girt +curiosity to span Eden."' + +Mildred had an intense affection for this beautiful spot. It was the +scene of many a merry gipsy tea; and in the summer Olive and she often +made it their resort, taking their work or books and spending long +afternoons there. + +This evening she would enjoy it alone, 'with only pleasant thoughts for +company,' she said to herself, as she strolled contentedly down the +smooth green glade, where browsing cattle only broke the silence, and +then made her way down the bank to the river-side. + +Here she sat down, rapt for a time by the still beauty of the place. +Below her, far as she could see, lay the huge gray and white stones +through which the water worked its channel. Low trees and shrubs grew in +picturesque confusion--dark lichen-covered rocks towered, jagged and +massive, on either side of the narrow chasm. Through the arch of the +bridge one saw a vista of violet-blue sky and green foliage. The rush of +the water into Coop Kernan Hole filled the ear with soft incessant +sound. Some one beside Mildred seemed rooted to the spot. + +'This is a favourite place with you, I know,' said a voice in her ear; +and Mildred, roused from her dreams, started, and turned round, blushing +with the sudden surprise. + +'Dr. Heriot, how could you? You have startled me dreadfully!' + +'Did you not see me coming?' he returned, jumping lightly from one rock +to the other, and settling himself comfortably a little below her. 'I +saw you at the station and followed you here. Do I intrude on pleasanter +thoughts?' he continued, giving her the benefit of one of his keen, +quiet glances. + +'No; oh no,' stammered Mildred. All at once she felt ill at ease. The +situation was novel--unexpected. She had often encountered Dr. Heriot in +her walks and drives, but he had never so frankly sought her out as on +this evening. His manner was the same as usual--friendly, +self-possessed--but for the first time in her life Mildred was tormented +with a painful self-consciousness. Her slight confusion was unnoticed, +however, for Dr. Heriot went on in the same cool, well-assured voice-- + +'You are such a comfortable person, Miss Lambert, one can always depend +on hearing the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth from +you. I confess I should have been grievously disappointed if you had +sent me about my own business.' + +'Am I given to dismiss you in such a churlish manner, Dr. Heriot?' +returned Mildred, with a little nervous laugh; but she only thought, +'How strange of him to follow me here!' + +'You are the soul of courtesy itself; you have a benevolent forehead, +Miss Lambert. "Entertainment for Pilgrims" ought to be bound round it as +a sort of phylactery. Why are women so much more unselfish than men, I +wonder?' + +'They need something to compensate them for their weakness,' she +returned, softly. + +'Their weakness is strength sometimes, and masters our brute force. I am +in the mood for moralising, you see. Last Sunday evening I was reading +my _Pilgrim's Progress_. I have retained my old childish penchant for +it. Apollyon with his darts was my favourite nightmare for years. When I +came to the part about Charity and the Palace Beautiful, I thought of +you.' + +Mildred raised her eyes in surprise, and again the sensitive colour rose +to her face. Dr. Heriot was given to moralising, she knew, but it was a +little forced this evening. In spite of his coolness a suppressed +excitement bordered the edge of his words; he looked like a man on the +brink of a resolution. + +'The damsel Discretion would suit me better,' she said at last, with +assumed lightness. + +'Yes, Discretion is your handmaid, but my name fits you more truly,' he +returned, with a kind look which somehow made her heart beat faster. +'Your sympathy offers such a soft pillow for sore hearts, and aches and +troubles--have you a ward for incurables, as well as for the sick and +maimed waifs and strays of humanity, I wonder?' + +'Dr. Heriot, what possesses you this evening?' returned Mildred, with +troubled looks. How strangely he was talking!--was he in fun or earnest? +Ought she to stay there and listen to him, or should she gently hint to +him the expediency of returning home? A dim instinct warned her that +this hour might be fraught with perilous pleasure; a movement would +break its spell. She rose hastily. + +'You are not going?' he exclaimed, raising himself in some surprise; 'it +is still early. This is an ungrateful return for the compliment I have +just paid you. I am certain it is Discretion now, and not Charity, that +speaks.' + +'They will be expecting me,' she returned. Dr. Heriot had risen to his +feet, and now stretched out his hand to detain her. + +'They do not want you,' he said, with a persuasive smile; 'they can +exist an hour without Aunt Milly. Sit down again, Charity, I entreat +you, for I have followed you here to ask your advice. I really need it,' +he continued, seriously, as Mildred still hesitated; but a glance at the +grave, kind face decided her. 'Perhaps, after all, he had some trouble, +and she might help him. It could be no harm; it was only too pleasant to +be sitting there monopolising his looks and words, usually shared with +others. The opportunity might never occur again. She would stop and hear +all that he had to say. Was he not her brother's friend, and hers also?' + +Dr. Heriot seemed in no hurry to explain himself; he sat throwing +pebbles absently into the watery fissures at their feet, while Mildred +watched him with some anxiety. Time had dealt very gently with Dr. +Heriot; he looked still young, in the prime of life. A close observer +might notice that the closely-cropped hair was sprinkled with gray, but +the lines that trouble had drawn were almost effaced by the kindly hand +of time. There was still a melancholy shade in the eyes, an occasional +dash of bitterness in the kind voice, but the trouble lay far back and +hidden; and it could not be denied that Dr. Heriot was visibly happier +than he had been three years ago. Yes, it was true, sympathy bad +smoothed out many a furrow; kindly fellowship and close intimacy had +brightened the life of the lonely man; little discrepancies and angles +had vanished under beneficent treatment. The young fresh lives around +him, with their passionate interests, their single-eyed pursuits, lent +him new interests, and fostered that superabundant benevolence; and Hope +and its twin-sister Desire bloomed by the side of his desolate hearth. + +Dr. Heriot had ever told himself that passion was dead within him, slain +by that deadly disgust and terror of years. 'A man cannot love twice as +I loved Margaret,' he had said to his friend more than once; and the two +men, drawn together by a loss so similar, and yet so diverse, had owned +that in their case, and with their faithful tenacity, no second love +could be possible. + +'But you are a comparatively young man; you are in the very prime of +life, Heriot; you ought to marry,' his friend had said to him once. + +'I do not care to marry for friendship and companionship,' he had +answered. 'My wife must be everything or nothing to me. I must love with +passion or not at all.' And there had risen up before his mind the +dreary spectacle of a degraded beauty that he once had worshipped, and +which had power to charm him to the very last. + +It was three years since Dr. Heriot had uttered his bitter protest +against matrimony, and since then there had grown up in his heart a +certain sweet fancy, which had emanated first out of pure benevolence, +but which, while he cherished and fostered it, had grown very dear to +him. + +He was thinking of it now, as the pebbles splashed harmlessly in the +narrow rivulets, while Mildred watched him, and thought with curious +incongruity of the dark, sunless pool lying behind the gray rocks, and +of the wild churning and seething of foamy waters which seemed to deaden +their voices; would he ever speak, she wondered. She sat with folded +hands, and a soft, perplexed smile on her face, as she waited, listening +to the dreamy rush of the water. + +He roused himself at last in earnest. + +'How good you are to me, Miss Lambert. After all, I have no right to tax +your forbearance.' + +'All friends have a right,' was the low answer. + +'All friends, yes. I wonder what any very special friend dare claim from +you? I could fancy your goodness without stint or limit then; it would +bear comparison with the deep waters of Coop Kernan Hole itself.' + +'Then you flatter me;' but she blushed, yes, to her sorrow, as Mildred +rarely blushed. + +'You see I am disposed to shelter myself beside it. Miss Lambert, I need +not ask you--you know my trouble.' + +'Your trouble? Oh yes; Arnold told me.' + +'And you are sorry for me?' + +'More than I can say,' and Mildred's voice trembled a little, and the +tears came to her eyes. With a sort of impulse she stretched out her +hand to him--that beautiful woman's hand he had so often admired. + +'Thank you,' he returned, gratefully, and holding it in his. 'Miss +Lambert, I feel you are my friend; that I dare speak to you. Will you +give me your advice to-night, as though--as though you were my sister?' + +'Can you doubt it?' in a voice so low that it was almost inaudible. A +slight, almost imperceptible shiver passed over her frame, but her mild +glance still rested on his averted face; some subtle sadness that was +not pain seemed creeping over her; somewhere there seemed a void opened, +an empty space, filled with a dying light. Mildred never knew what ailed +her at that moment, only, as she sat there with her hands once more +folded in her lap, she thought again of the dark, sunless pool lying +behind the gray rocks, and of the grewsome cavern, where the churned and +seething waters worked their way to the light. + +Somewhere from the distance Dr. Heriot's voice seemed to rouse her. + +'You are so good and true yourself, that you inspire confidence. A man +dare trust you with his dearest secret, and yet feel no dread of +betrayal; you are so gentle and so unselfish, that others lay their +burdens at your feet.' + +'No, no--please don't praise me. I have done nothing--nothing--that any +other woman would not have done,' returned Mildred, in a constrained +tone. She shrank from this praise. Somehow it wounded her sensibility. +He must talk of his trouble and not her, and then, perhaps, she would +grow calm again, more like the wise, self-controlled Mildred he thought +her. + +'I only want to justify the impulse that bade me follow you just now,' +he returned, with gentle gravity. 'You shall not lose the fruit of your +humility through me, Miss Lambert. I am glad you know my sad story, it +makes my task an easier one.' + +'You must have suffered greatly, Dr. Heriot.' + +'Ah, have I not?' catching his breath quickly. 'You do not know, how can +you, how a man of my nature loves the woman he has made his wife.' + +'She must have been very beautiful.' The words escaped from Mildred +before she was aware. + +'Beautiful,' he returned, in a tone of gloomy triumph. 'I never saw a +face like hers, never; but it was not her beauty only that I loved; it +was herself--her real self--as she was to others, never to me. You may +judge the power of her fascination, when I tell you that I loved her to +the last in spite of all--ay, in spite of all--and though she murdered +my happiness. Oh, the heaven our home might have been, if our boy had +lived,' speaking more to himself than to her, but her calm voice +recalled him. + +'Time heals even these terrible wounds.' + +'Yes, time and the kindness of friends. I was not ungrateful, even in my +loneliness. Since Margaret died, I have been thankful for moderate +blessings, but now they cease to content me: in spite of my resolve +never to call another woman my wife, I am growing strangely restless and +lonely.' + +'You have thought of some one; you want my advice, my assistance, +perhaps.' Would those churning waters never be still? A fine trembling +passed through the folded fingers, but the sweet, quiet tones did not +falter. Were there two Mildreds, one suffering a new, unknown pain; the +other sitting quietly on a gray boulder, with the water lapping to her +very feet. + +'Yes, I have thought of some one,' was the steady answer. 'I have +thought of my ward.' + +'Polly!' Ah, surely those seething waters must burst their bounds now, +and overwhelm them with a noisy flood. Was she dreaming? Did she hear +him aright? + +'Yes, Polly--my bright-faced Polly. Miss Lambert, you must not grow pale +over it; I am not robbing Aunt Milly of one of her children. Polly +belongs to me.' + +'As thy days so shall thy strength be;' the words seemed to echo in her +heart. Mildred could make nothing of the pain that had suddenly seized +on her; some unerring instinct warned her to defer inquiry. Aunt +Milly!--yes, she was only Aunt Milly, and nothing else. + +'You are right; Polly belongs to you,' she said, looking at him with +wistful eyes, out of which the tender, shining light seemed somehow +faded, 'but you must not sacrifice yourself for all that,' she +continued, with the old-fashioned wisdom he had ever found in her. + +'There you wrong me; it will be no sacrifice,' he returned, eagerly. +'Year by year Polly has been growing very dear to me. I have watched her +closely; you could not find a sweeter nature anywhere.' + +'She is worthy of a good man's love,' returned Mildred, in the same +calm, impassive tone. + +'You are so patient that I must not stint my confidence!' he exclaimed. +'I must tell you that for the last two years this thought has been +growing up in my heart, at first with reluctant anxiety, but lately with +increasing delight. I love Polly very dearly, Miss Lambert; all the +more, that she is so dependent on me.' + +Mildred did not answer, but evidently Dr. Heriot found her silence +sympathetic, for he went on in the same absorbed tone-- + +'I do not deny that at one time the thought gave me pain, and that I +doubted my ability to carry out my plan, but now it is different. I love +her well enough to wish to be her protector; well enough to redeem her +father's trust. In making this young orphan my wife, I shall console +myself; my conscience and my heart will be alike satisfied.' + +'She is very young,' began Mildred, but he interrupted her a little +sadly. + +'That is my only remaining difficulty--she is so young. The discrepancy +in our ages is so apparent. I sometimes doubt whether I am right in +asking her to sacrifice herself.' + +A strange smile passed over Mildred's face. 'Are you sure she will +regard it in that light, Dr. Heriot?' + +'What do you think?' he returned, eagerly. 'It is there I want your +advice. I am not disinterested. I fear my own selfishness, my hearth is +so lonely. Think how this young girl, with her sweet looks and words, +will brighten it. Dare I venture it? Is Polly to be won?' + +'She is too young to have formed another attachment,' mused Mildred. 'As +far as I know, she is absolutely free; but I cannot tell, it is not +always easy to read girls.' A fleeting thought of Roy, and a probable +childish entanglement, passed through Mildred's mind as she spoke, but +the next moment it was dismissed as absurd. They were on excellent +terms, it was true, but Polly's frank, sisterly affection was too openly +expressed to excite suspicion, while Roy's flirtations were known to be +legion. A perfectly bewildering number of Christian names were carefully +entered in Polly's pocket-book, annotated by Roy himself. Polly was +cognisant of all his love affairs, and alternately coaxed and scolded +him out of his secrets. + +'And you think she could be induced to care for her old guardian?' asked +Dr. Heriot, and there was no mistaking the real anxiety of his tone. + +'Why do you call yourself old?' returned Mildred, almost brusquely. 'If +Polly be fond of you, she will not find fault with your years. Most men +do not call themselves old at eight-and-thirty.' + +'But I have not led the life of most men,' was the sorrowful reply. +'Sometimes I fear a bright young girl will be no mate for my sadness.' + +'It has not turned you into a misanthrope; you must not be discouraged, +Dr. Heriot; trouble has made you faint-hearted. The best of your life +lies before you, you may be sure of that.' + +'You know how to comfort, Miss Lambert. You lull fears to sleep so +sweetly that they never wake again. You will wish me success, then?' + +'Yes, I will wish you success,' she returned, with a strange melancholy +in her voice. Was it for her to tell him that he was deceiving himself; +that benevolence and fancy were painting for him a future that could +never be verified? + +He would take this young girl into the shelter of his honest heart, but +would he satisfy her, would he satisfy himself? + +Would his hearth be always warm and bright when she bloomed so sweetly +beside it; would her innocent affection content this man, with his deep, +passionate nature, and yearning heart; would there be no void that her +girlish intellect could not fill? + +Alas! she knew him too well to lay such flattering unction to her soul; +and she knew Polly too. Polly would be no child-wife, to be fed with +caresses. Her healthy woman's nature would crave her husband's +confidence without stint and limit; there must be response to her +affection, an answer to every appeal. + +'I will wish you success,' she had said to him, and he had not detected +the sadness of her tone, only as he turned to thank her she had risen +quickly to her feet. + +'Is it so late? I ought not to have kept you so long,' he exclaimed, as +he followed her. + +'Yes, the sun has set,' returned Mildred hurriedly; but as they walked +along side by side she suddenly hesitated and stopped. She had an odd +fancy, she told him, but she wanted to see the dark pool on the other +side of the gray rock, Coop Kernan Hole she thought they called it, for +through all their talk it had somehow haunted her. + +'If you will promise me not to go too near,' he had answered, 'for the +boulders are apt to be slippery at times.' + +And Mildred had promised. + +He was a little surprised when she refused all assistance and clambered +lightly from one huge boulder to another, and still more at her quiet +intensity of gaze into the black sullen pool. It was so unlike +Mildred--cheerful Mildred--to care about such places. + +The sunset had quite died away, but some angry, lurid clouds still +lingered westward; the air was heavy and oppressed, no breeze stirred +the birches and aspens; below them lay Coop Kernan Hole, black and +fathomless, above them the pent-up water leaped over the rocks with +white resistless force. + +'We shall have a storm directly; this place looks weird and uncanny +to-night; let us go.' + +'Yes, let us go,' returned Mildred, with a slight shiver. 'What is there +to wait for?' What indeed? + +She did not now refuse the assistance that Dr. Heriot offered her; her +energy was spent, she looked white and somewhat weary when they reached +the little gate. Dr. Heriot noticed it. + +'You look as if you had seen a ghost. I shall not bring you to this +place again in the gloaming,' he said lightly; and Mildred had laughed +too. + +What had she seen? + +Only a sunless pool, with night closing over it; only gray rocks, washed +evermore with a foaming torrent; only a yawning chasm, through which +churning waters seethed and worked their way, where a dying light could +not enter; and above thunder-clouds, black with an approaching storm. + +'Yes, I shall come again; not now, not for a long time, and you shall +bring me,' she had answered him, with a smile so sweet and singular that +it had haunted him. + +True prophetic words, but little did Mildred know when and how she would +stand beside Coop Kernan Hole again. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +DR. HERIOT'S WARD + + 'I can pray with pureness + For her welfare now-- + Since the yearning waters + Bravely were pent in. + God--He saw me cover, + With a careless brow, + Signs that might have told her + Of the work within.'--Philip Stanhope Worsley. + +The pretty shaded lamps were lighted in the drawing-room; a large gray +moth had flown in through the open windows and brushed round them in +giddy circles. Polly was singing a little plaintive French air, Roy's +favourite. _Tra-la-la, Qui va la_, it went on, with odd little trills +and drawn-out chords. Olive's book had dropped to her lap, one long +braid of hair had fallen over her hot cheek. Mildred's entrance had +broken the thread of some quiet dream,--she uttered an exclamation and +Polly's music stopped. + +'Dear Aunt Milly, how late you are, and how tired you look!' + +'Yes, I am tired, children. I have been to Stenkrith, and Dr. Heriot +found me, and we have had a long talk. I think I have missed my tea, +and----' + +'Aunt Milly, you look dreadful,' broke in Polly, impulsively; 'you must +sit there,' pushing her with gentle force into the low chair, 'and I +shall go and bring you some tea, and you are not to talk.' + +Mildred was only too thankful to submit; she leant back wearily upon the +cushions Polly's thoughtfulness had provided, with an odd feeling of +thankfulness and unrest;--how good her girls were to her. She watched +Polly coming across the room, slim and tall, carrying the little +tea-tray, her long dress flowing out behind her with gentle undulating +movement. The lamplight shone on the purple cup, and the softly-tinted +peach lying beside it, placed there by Polly's soft little fingers; she +carried a little filagree-basket, a mere toy of a thing, heaped up with +queen's cakes; a large creamy rose detached itself from her dress and +fell on Mildred's lap. + +'This is the second time you have shivered, and yet your hands are +warm--oh, so warm,' said the girl anxiously, as she hung over her. + +Mildred smiled and roused herself, and tried to do justice to the little +feast. + +'They had all had a busy day,' she said with a yawn, and stretching +herself. + +The vicarage had been a Babel since early morning, with all those noisy +tongues. Yes, the tea had refreshed her, but her head still ached, and +she thought it would be wiser to go to bed. + +'Please do go, Aunt Milly,' Olive had chimed in, and when she had bidden +them good-night, she heard Polly's flute-like voice bursting into +_Tra-la-la_ again as she closed the door; _Qui va la_ she hummed to +herself as she crept wearily along. + +The storm had broken some miles below them, and only harmless summer +lightning played on the ragged edges of the clouds as they gleamed +fitfully, now here, now there; there were sudden glimpses of dark hills +and a gray, still river, with some cattle grouped under the bridge, and +then darkness. + +'How strange to shiver in such heat,' thought Mildred, as she sat down +by the open window. She scarcely knew why she sat there--'Only for a few +minutes just to think it all out,' she said to herself, as she pressed +her aching forehead between her hands; but hours passed and still she +did not move. + +Years afterwards Mildred was once asked which was the bitterest hour of +her life, and she had grown suddenly pale and the answer had died away +on her lips; the remembrance of this night had power to chill her even +then. + +A singular conflict was raging in Mildred's gentle bosom, passions +hitherto unknown stirred and agitated it; the poor soul, dragged before +the tribunal of inexorable womanhood, had pleaded guilty to a crime that +was yet no crime--the sin of having loved unsought. + +Unconsciousness could shield her no longer, the beneficent cloak of +friendship could not cover her; mutual sympathy, the united strength of +goodness and intellect, her own pitying woman's heart, had wrought the +mischief under which she was now writhing with an intolerable sense of +terror and shame. + +And how intolerable can only be known by any pure-minded woman under the +same circumstances! It would not be too much to say that Mildred +absolutely cowered under it; tranquillity was broken up; the brain, calm +and reasonable no longer, grew feverish with the effort to piece +together tormenting fragments of recollection. + +Had she betrayed herself? How had she sinned if she had so sinned? What +had she done that the agony of this humiliation had come upon her--she +who had thought of others, never of herself? + +Was this the secret of her false peace? was her life indeed robbed of +its sweetest illusion--she who had hoped for nothing, expected nothing? +would she now go softly all her days as one who had lost her chief good? + +And yet what had she desired--but to keep him as her friend? was not +this the sum and head of her offending? + +'Oh, God, Thou knowest my integrity!' she cried from the depths of her +suffering soul. + +Alas! was it her fault that she loved him? was it only her fancy that +some sympathy, subtle but profound, united them? was it not he who +deceived himself? Ah, there was the stab. She knew now that she was +nothing to him and he was everything to her. + +Her very unconsciousness had prepared this snare for her. She had called +him her friend, but it had come to this, that his step was as music in +her ear, and the sunshine of his presence had glorified her days. How +she had looked for his coming, with what quiet welcoming smiles she had +received her friend; his silence had been as sweet to her as his words; +the very seat where he sat, the very reels of cotton on her little +work-table with which he had played, were as sacred as relics in her +eyes. + +How she had leant on his counsel; his yea was yea to her, and his nay, +nay. How wise and gentle he had ever been with her; once she had been +ill, and the tenderness of his sympathy had made her almost love her +illness. 'You must get well; we cannot spare you,' he had said to her, +and she had thanked him with her sweetest smiles. + +How happy they had been in those days: the thought of any change had +terrified her; sometimes she had imagined herself twenty years older, +but Mildred Lambert still, with a gray-haired friend coming quietly +across in the dusk to sit with her and Arnold when all the young ones +were gone--her friend, always her friend! + +How pitiable had been her self-deception; she must have loved him even +then. The thought of Margaret's husband marrying another woman, and that +woman the girl that she had cherished as her own daughter, tormented her +with a sense of impossibility and pain. Good heavens, what if he +deceived himself! What if for the second time in his life he worked out +his own disappointment, passion and benevolence leading him equally +astray. + +Sadness indescribable and profound steeped the soul of this noble woman; +pitiful efforts after prayer, wild searching for light, for her lost +calmness, for mental resolve and strength, broke the silence of her +anguish; but such a struggle could not long continue in one so meek, so +ordinarily self-controlled; then came the blessed relief of tears; then, +falling on her knees and bowed to the very dust, the poor creature +invoked the presence of the Great Sufferer, and laid the burden of her +sorrow on the broken heart of her Lord. + +One who loved Mildred found, long afterwards, a few lines copied from +some book, and marked with a red marginal line, with the date of this +night affixed:-- + + 'So out in the night on the wide, wild sea, + When the wind was beating drearily, + And the waters were moaning wearily, + I met with Him who had died for me.' + +Had she met with Him? 'Had the wounded Hand touched hers in the dark?' +Who knows? + +The lightnings ceased to play along the edges of the cloud, the moon +rose, the long shadows projected from the hills, the sound of cattle +hoofs came crisply up the dry channel of the beck, and still Mildred +knelt on, with her head buried on her outstretched arms. 'I will not go +unless Thou bless me'--was that her prayer? + +Not in words, perhaps; but as the day broke, with faint gleams and tints +of ever-broadening glory, Mildred rose from her knees, and looked over +the hills with sad, steadfast eyes. + +The conflict had ceased, the conqueror was only a woman--a woman no +longer young, with pale cheeks, with faded, weary eyes--but never did +braver hands gird on the cross that must henceforth be carried +unflinchingly. + +'Mine be the pain, and his the happiness,' she whispered. Her knees were +trembling under her with weakness, she looked wan and bloodless, but her +soul was free at last. 'I am innocent; I have done no wrong. God is my +witness!' she cried in her inmost heart. 'I shall fear to look no man in +the face. God bless him--God bless them both! He is still my friend, for +I have done nothing to forfeit his friendship. God will take care of me. +I have duty, work, blessings innumerable, and a future heaven when this +long weariness is done.' + +And again: 'He will never know it. He will never know that yesterday, as +I stood by his side, I longed to be lying at the bottom of the dark, +sunless pool. It was a wicked wish--God forgive me for it. I saw him +look at me once, and there was surprise in his eyes, and then he +stretched out his kind hand and led me away.' + +And then once more: 'There is no trouble unendurable but sin, and I +thank my God that the shame and the terror has passed, and left me, weak +indeed, but innocent as a little child. If I had known--but no, His Hand +has been with me through it all. I am not afraid; I have not betrayed +myself; I can bear what God has willed.' + +She had planned it all out. There must be no faltering, no flinching; +not a moment must be unoccupied. Work must be found, new interests +sought after, heart-sickness subdued by labour and fatigue; there was +only idleness to be dreaded, so she told herself. + +It has been often said by cynical writers that women are better actors +than men; that they will at times play out a part in the dreary farce of +life that is quite foreign to their real character, dressing their face +with smiles while their heart is still sore within them. + +But Mildred was not one of these; she had been taught in no ordinary +school of adversity. In the dimness of that seven years' seclusion she +had learnt lessons of fortitude and endurance that would have baffled +the patience of weaker women. Flesh and blood might shrink from the +unequal combat, but her courage would not fail; her strength, fed from +the highest sources, would still be found sufficient. + +Henceforth for Mildred Lambert there should shine the light of a day +that was not 'clear nor dark;' she knew that for her no dazzling sunrise +of requited love should flood her woman's kingdom with brightness; +happiness must be replaced by duty, by the quiet contentment of a heart +'at leisure from itself.' + +'There is no trouble unendurable but sin,' she had said to herself. Oh, +that other poor sufferers--sufferers in heart, in this world's good +things--would lay this truth to their souls! It would rob sorrow of its +sting, it would lift the deadly mists from the charnel-house itself. For +to the Mildreds of life religion is no Sunday garb, to be laid aside +when the week-day burdens press heaviest; no garbled mixture of +sentiment and symbolic rites, of lip-worship and heart freedom, +tolerated by 'the civilised heathenism' of the present day, for in their +heart they know that to the Christian, suffering is a privilege, not a +punishment; that from the days of Calvary 'Take up thy cross and follow +Me' is the literal command literally obeyed by the true followers of the +great Master of suffering. + +Mildred was resolved to tolerate no weakness; she dressed herself +quickly, and was down at the usual time. 'How old and faded I look,' she +thought, as she caught the reflection of herself in the glass. + +Her changed looks would excite comment, she knew, and she braced herself +to meet it with tolerable equanimity; a sleepless night could be pleaded +as an excuse for heavy eyes and swollen eyelids. Polly indeed seemed +disposed to renew her soft manipulations and girlish officiousness, but +Mildred contrived to put them aside. 'She was going down to the schools, +and after that there were the old women at the workhouse and at Nateby,' +she said, with the quiet firmness which always made Aunt Milly's decrees +unalterable. 'Her girls must take care of themselves until she +returned.' + +'Charity begins at home, Aunt Milly. I am sure Olive and I are worth a +score of old women,' grumbled Polly, who in season and out of season was +given to clatter after Mildred in her little high-heeled shoes. + +Dr. Heriot's ward was becoming a decidedly fashionable young lady; the +pretty feet were set off by silver buckles, Polly's heels tapped the +floor endlessly as she tripped hither and thither; Polly's long skirts, +always crisp and rustling, her fresh dainty muslins, her toy aprons and +shining ribbons, were the themes of much harmless criticism; the little +hands were always faultlessly gloved; London-marked boxes came to her +perpetually, with Roy's saucy compliments; wonderful ruby and +cream-coloured ribbons were purchased with the young artist's scanty +savings. Nor was Dr. Heriot less mindful of the innocent vanity that +somehow added to Polly's piquancy. The little watch that ticked at her +waist, the gold chain and locket, the girlish ring with its turquoise +heart, were all the gifts of the kind guardian and friend. + +Dr. Heriot's bounty was unfailing. The newest books found their way to +Olive's and Mildred's little work-tables; Chriss was made happy by +additions to her menagerie of pets; a gray parrot, a Skye terrier whose +shaggy coat swept the ground, even pink-eyed rabbits found their way to +the vicarage; the grand silk dresses that Dr. Heriot had sent down on +Polly's last birthday for her and Olive were nothing in Chriss's eyes +compared to Fritter-my-wig, who could smoke, draw corks, bark like a +dog, and reduce Veteran Rag to desperation by a vision of concealed cats +on the stable wall. Chriss's oddities were not disappearing with her +years--indeed she was still the same captious little person as of old; +with her bright eyes and tawny-coloured mane she was decidedly +picturesque, though stooping shoulders, and the eye-glass her +short-sight required, detracted somewhat from her good looks. + +On any sunny afternoon she could be seen sitting on the low step leading +to the lawn, her parrot, Fritter-my-wig, on her shoulder, and Tatters +and Witch at her feet, and most likely a volume of Euripides on her lap. +The quaint little figure, the red-brown touzle of curls, the short +striped skirt, and gold eye-glasses, struck Roy on one of his rare +visits home; one of his most charming pictures was painted from the +recollection. 'There was an Old Woman,' it was called. Chriss objected +indignantly to the dolls that were introduced, though Roy gravely +assured her that he had adhered to Hugh's beautiful idea of the twelve +months. + +Polly had some reason for her discontent and grumbling. The weather had +changed, and heavy summer rains seemed setting in, and Mildred's plan +for her day did not savour of prudence. It suited Mildred's sombre +thoughts better than sunshine; she went upstairs almost cheerfully, and +took out a gray cloak that was Polly's favourite aversion on the score +that it reminded her of a Sister-of-Charity cloak. 'Not that I do not +love and honour Sisters,' she had added by way of excuse, 'but I should +not like you to be one, Aunt Milly,' and Mildred had hastened to assure +her that she had never felt it to be her vocation. + +She remembered Polly's speech now as she shook out the creases; the +straight, long folds, the unobtrusive colour, somehow suited her. 'I +think people who are not young ought always to dress in black or gray,' +she said to herself; 'butterfly colours are only fit for girls. I should +like nothing better than to be allowed to hide all this hair under a cap +and Quaker's bonnet.' And yet, as she said this, Mildred remembered with +a sudden pang that Dr. Heriot had once observed in her hearing that she +had beautiful hair. + +She went on bravely through the day--no work came amiss to her; after a +time she ceased even to feel fatigue. Once the crowded schoolroom would +have made her head ache after the first hour or so, but now she sat +quite passive, with the girls sewing round her, and the boys spelling +out their tasks with incessant buzz and movement. + +The old women in the workhouse did not tire her with their complaints; +she sat for a long time by the side of one old creature who was +bedridden and palsied; the idiot girl--alas! she was forty years +old--blinked at her with small dazed eyes, as she showed her the +gaily-coloured pictures she had pasted on rag for her amusement, and +followed her contentedly up and down the long whitewashed wards. + +In the cottages she was as warmly welcomed as ever; one sick child, whom +she had often visited, held out his little arms and ceased crying with +pain when he saw her. Mildred laid aside her damp cloak, and walked up +and down the flagged kitchen for a long time with the boy's head on her +shoulder; singing to him with her low sweet voice. + +'Ay, but he's terrible fond of you, poor thing!' exclaimed the mother +gratefully. She was an invalid too, and lay on a board beside the empty +fireplace, looking out of the low latticed window crowded with +flower-pots. The other children gathered round her, plucking her skirt +shyly, and listening to Mildred's cooing voice; the little fellow's blue +eyes seemed closing drowsily, one small blackened hand stole very near +Mildred's neck. + + 'There's a home for little children + Above the bright blue sky,' + +sang Mildred. + +'Ay, Jock; but, thoo lile varment, thoo'll nivver gang oop if thou +bealst like a bargeist,' whispered the woman to a white-headed urchin +beside her, who seemed disposed for a roar. + +'I cares lile--nay, I dunn't,' muttered Jock, contumaciously; to Jock's +unregenerated mind the white robes and the palms seemed less tempting +than the shouts of his little companions outside. 'There's lile Geordie +and Dawson's Sue,' he grumbled, rubbing his eyes with his dirty fists. + +'Gang thee thy ways, or I'll fetch thee a skelp wi' my stick,' returned +the poor mother, weary of the discussion, and Jock scampered off, +nothing loth. + +Mildred sang her little hymn all through as the boy's head drooped +heavily on her shoulder; as she walked up and down, her dreamy eyes had +a far-off look in them, and yet nothing escaped her notice. She saw the +long rafter over her head, with the Sunday boots and shoes neatly +arranged on it, with bunches of faint-smelling herbs hanging below them; +the adjoining door was open, the large bare room, with its round table +and bedstead, and heaped up coals on the floor, was plainly visible to +her, as well as its lonely occupant darning black stockings in the +window. + +'After all, was she as lonely,' she thought, 'as Bett Hutchinson, who +lived by herself, with only a tabby cat for company, and kept her +coal-cellar in her bedroom? and yet, though Bett had weak eyes and weak +nerves, and was clean out of her wits on the subject of the boggle +family, from the "boggle with twa heeds" down to Jock's "bargheist ahint +the yat-stoop."' + +Bett's superstition was a household word with her neighbours, 'daft Bett +and her boggles' affording a mine of entertainment to the gossips of +Nateby. Mildred, and latterly Hugh Marsden, had endeavoured to reason +Bett out of her fancies, but it was no use. 'I saw summut--nay, nay, I +saw summut,' she always persisted. 'I was a'most daft--'twas t'boggle, +and nought else,' she murmured. + +Mildred was no weak girl, to go moaning about the world because her +heart must be emptied of its chief treasure. Bett's penurious loneliness +read her a salutary lesson; her own life, saddened as it was, grew rich +by comparison. '"If in mercy Thou wilt spare joys that yet are mine,"' +she whispered, as she laid the sleeping child down in the wooden cot and +spread the patched quilt lovingly over him. + +Jock grinned at her from behind an oyster-shell and mud erection; lile +Geordie and Dawson's Sue were with him. 'Aw've just yan hawpenny left,' +she heard him say as she passed. + +Mildred had finished the hardest day's work that she had ever done in +her life, but she knew that it was not yet over. Dr. Heriot was not one +to linger over a generous impulse; 'If it is worth doing at all, one +should do it at once,' was a favourite maxim of his. + +Mildred knew well what she had to expect. She was only thankful that the +summer's dusk allowed her to slip past the long French window that +always stood open. They were lighting the lamp already--some one, +probably Olive, had asked for it. A voice, that struck Mildred cold with +a sudden anguish, railed playfully against bookworms who could not +afford a blind-man's holiday. + +'He is here; of course I knew how it would be,' she murmured, as she +groped her way a little feebly up the stairs. She would have given much +for a quiet half-hour in her room, but it was not to be; the tapping +sound she dreaded already struck upon her ear, the crisp rustle of +garments in the passage, then the faint knock and timid entrance. 'I +knew it was Polly. Come in; do you want me, my dear?' the tired voice +striving bravely after cheerfulness. + +'Aunt Milly--oh, Aunt Milly!--I thought you would never come;' and in +the dark two soft little hands clasped her tight, and a burning face hid +itself in her neck. 'Oh,' with a sort of gasp, 'I have wanted my Aunt +Milly so badly!' + +Then the noble, womanly heart opened with a great rush of tenderness, +and took in the girl who had so unconsciously become a rival. + +'What is this, my pet--not tears, surely?' for Polly had laid her head +down, and was sobbing hysterically with excitement and relief. + +'I cannot help it. I was longing all the time for papa to know; and then +it was all so strange, and I thought you would never come. I shall be +more comfortable now,' sobbed Polly, with a girlish abandon of mingled +happiness and grief. 'Directly I heard your step outside the window I +made an excuse to get away to you.' + +'I ought not to have left you--it was wrong; but, no, it could not be +helped,' returned Mildred, in a low voice. She pressed the girl to her, +and stroked the soft hair with cold, trembling fingers. 'Are those happy +tears, my pet? Hush, you must not cry any more now.' + +'They do me good. I felt as though I were some one else downstairs, not +Polly at all. Oh, Aunt Milly, can you believe it?--do you think it is +all real?' + +'What is real? You have told me nothing yet, remember. Shall I guess, +Polly? Is it a great secret--a very great secret, my darling?' + +'Aunt Milly, as though you did not know, when he told me that you and he +had had a long talk about it yesterday!' + +'He--Dr. Heriot, I suppose you mean?' + +'He says I must call him something else now,' returned the girl in a +whisper, 'but I have told him I never shall. He will always be Dr. +Heriot to me--always. I don't like his other name, Aunt Milly; no one +does.' + +'John--I think it beautiful!' with a certain sharp pain in her voice. +She remembered how he had once owned to her that no one had called him +by this name since he was a boy. He had been christened John +Heriot--John Heriot Heriot--and his wife had always called him Heriot. +'Only my mother ever called me John,' he had said in a regretful tone, +and Mildred had softly repeated the name after him. + +'It has always been my favourite name,' she had owned with that +simplicity that was natural to her; and his eyes had glistened as though +he were well-pleased. + +'It is beautiful; it reminds one of St. John. I have always liked it,' +she said a little quickly. + +'His wife called him Heriot; yes, I know, he told me--but I am so young, +and he--well, he is not exactly old, Aunt Milly, but----' + +'Do you love him, Polly?--child, do you really love him?' and for a +moment Mildred put the girl from her with a sort of impatience and +irritation of suspense. Polly's pretty face was suffused with hot +blushes when she came back to her place again. + +'He asked me that question, and I told him yes. How can one help it, and +he so good? Aunt Milly, you have no idea how kind and gentle he was when +he saw he frightened me.' + +'Frightened you, my child?' + +'The strangeness of it all, I mean. I could not understand him for a +long time. He talked quite in his old way, and yet somehow he was +different; and all at once I found out what he meant.' + +'Well?' + +'And then I got frightened, I suppose. I thought how could I satisfy +him, and he so much older and cleverer. He is so immeasurably above all +my girlish silliness, and so I could not help crying a little.' + +'Poor little Polly! but he comforted you.' + +'Oh yes,' with more blushes, 'he talked to me so beautifully that I +could not be afraid any more. He said that for years this had been in +his mind, that he had never forgotten how I had wanted to live with him +and take care of him, and how he had always called me "his sweet little +heartsease" ever since. Oh, Aunt Milly, I know he wants me. It was so +sad to hear him talk about his loneliness.' + +'You will not let him be lonely any longer. I have lost my Polly, I +see.' + +'No, no, you must not say so,' throwing her arm round her, only with a +sort of bashful pride, very new in Polly; 'he has no one to take care of +him but me.' + +'Then he shall have our Sunbeam--God bless her!' and Mildred kissed her +proudly. 'I hope you did not tell him he was old, Polly.' + +'He asked me if I thought him so, and of course I said it was only I who +was too young.' + +'And what did he say to that?' + +'He laughed, and said it was a fault that I should soon mend, but that +he meant to be very proud as well as fond of his child-wife. Do you +know, he actually thinks me pretty, Aunt Milly.' + +'He is right; you are pretty--very pretty, Polly,' she repeated, +absently. She was saying in her own heart 'Dr. Heriot's wife--John +Heriot's child-wife'--over and over again. + +'Roy never would tell me so, because he said it would make me vain. Roy +will be glad about this, will he not, Aunt Milly?' + +'I do not know; nay, I hope so, my darling.' + +'And Richard, and all of them; they are so fond of Dr. Heriot. Do you +remember how often they have joked him about Heriot's Choice?' + +'Yes, I remember.' + +A sudden spasm crossed Mildred's gentle face, but she soon controlled +herself. She must get used to these sharp pangs, these recollections of +the happy, innocent past; she had misunderstood her friend, that was +all. + +'Dear Aunt Milly, make me worthier of his love,' whispered the girl, +with tears in her eyes; 'he is so noble, my benefactor, my almost +father, and now he is going to make me his wife, and I am so young and +childish.' + +And she clung to Mildred, quivering with vague irrepressible emotion. + +'Hush, you will be his sunbeam, as you have been ours. What did he call +you--his heartsease? You must keep that name, my pet.' + +'But--but you will teach me, he thinks so much of you; he says you are +the gentlest, and the wisest, and the dearest friend he has ever had. +Where are you going, Aunt Milly?' for Mildred had gently disengaged +herself from the girl's embrace. + +'Hush, we ought to go down; you must not keep me any longer, dear Polly; +he will expect--it is my duty to see him.' + +Mildred was adjusting her hair and dress with cold, shaking fingers, +while Polly stood by and shyly helped her. + +'It does not matter how you look,' the girl had said, with innocent +unconscious sarcasm; 'you are so tired, the tumbled gray alpaca will do +for to-night.' + +'No, it does not matter how I look,' replied Mildred, calmly. + +A colourless weary face and eyes, with an odd shine and light in them, +were reflected between the dimly-burning candles. Polly stood beside her +slim and conscious; she had dried her tears, and a sweet honest blush +mantled her young cheeks. The little foot tapped half impatiently on the +floor. + +'You have no ribbons or flowers, but perhaps after all it will not be +noticed,' she said, with pardonable egotism. + +'No, he will have only eyes for you to-night. Come, Polly, I am ready;' +and as the girl turned coy and seemed disposed to linger, Mildred +quietly turned to the door. + +'I thought I was to be dismissed without your saying good-night to me,' +was Dr. Heriot's greeting as he advanced to meet them. He was holding +Mildred's cold hand tightly, but his eyes rested on Polly's downcast +face as he spoke. + +'We ought to have come before, but I knew you would understand.' + +'Yes, I understand,' he returned, with an expression of proud +tenderness. 'You will give your child to me, Miss Lambert?' + +'She has always seemed to belong to you more than to me,' and then she +looked up at him for a moment with her old beautiful smile. 'I need not +ask you to be good to her--you are good to every one; but she is so +young, little more than a child.' + +'You may trust me,' he returned, putting his arm gently round the young +girl's shoulders; 'there shall not a hair of her head suffer harm if I +can prevent it. Polly is not afraid of me, is she?' + +'No,' replied Polly, shyly; but the bright eyes lifted themselves with +difficulty. + +She looked after him with a sort of perplexed pride, half-conscious, +half-confused, as he released her and bade them all good-night. When he +was gone she hovered round Mildred in the old childish way and seemed +unwilling to leave her. + +'I have done the right thing. Bless her sweet face. I know I shall make +her happy,' thought Dr. Heriot as he walked with rapid strides across +the market-place; 'a man cannot love twice in his life as I loved my +Margaret, but the peaceful affection such as I can give my darling will +satisfy her I know. If only Philip could see into my heart to-night I +think he would be comforted for his motherless child.' And then +again--'How sweetly Mildred Lambert looked at me to-night; she is a good +woman, there are few like her. Her face reminded me of some Madonna I +have seen in a foreign gallery as she stood with the girl clinging to +her. I wonder she has never married; these ministering women lead lonely +lives sometimes. Sometimes I have fancied she knew what it is to love, +and suffered. I thought so yesterday and again to-day, there was such a +ring of sadness in her voice. Perhaps he died, but one cannot +tell--women never reveal these things.' + +And so the benevolent heart sunned itself in pleasant dreams. The future +looked fair and peaceful, no brooding complications, no murky clouds +threatened the atmosphere, passion lay dormant, rest was the chief good +to be desired. Could benevolence play him false, could affection be +misplaced, would he ever come to own to himself that delusion had +cheated him, that husks and not bread had been given him to eat, that +his honest yearning heart had again betrayed him, that a kindly impulse, +a protecting tenderness, had blinded him to his true happiness? + +'How good he is,' thought the young girl as she laid her head on the +pillow; 'how dearly I must love him: I ought to love him. I never +imagined any one could be half so gentle. I wonder if Roy will be glad +when I tell him--oh yes, I wonder if Roy will be glad?' + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +'AND MAIDENS CALL IT LOVE-IN-IDLENESS' + + 'Is there within thy heart a need + That mine cannot fulfil? + One chord that any other hand + Could better wake or still? + Speak now, lest at some future day + My whole life wither and decay.' + + Adelaide Anne Procter. + + +The news of Dr. Heriot's engagement soon spread fast; he was amused, and +Polly half frightened, by the congratulations that poured upon them. Mr. +Trelawny, restored to something like good humour by the unexpected +tidings, made surly overtures of peace, which were received on Dr. +Heriot's part with his usual urbanity. The Squire imparted the news to +his daughter after his own ungracious fashion. + +'Do you hear Heriot's gone and made a fool of himself?' he said, as he +sat facing her at table; 'he has engaged himself to that ward of his; +why, he is twenty years older than the girl if he is a day!' + +'Papa, do you know what you are saying?' expostulated Ethel; the +audacity of the statement bewildered her; she would have scorned herself +for her credulity if she had believed him. Dr. Heriot--their Dr. Heriot! +No, she would not so malign his wisdom. + +The quiet scepticism of her manner excited Mr. Trelawny's wrath. + +'You women all set such store by Heriot,' he returned, sneeringly; +'everything he did was right in your eyes; you can't believe he would be +caught like other men by a pretty face, eh?' + +'No, I cannot believe it,' she returned, still firmly. + +'Then you may go into the town and hear it for yourself,' he continued, +taking up his paper with a pretence of indifference, but his keen eyes +still watched her from beneath it. Was it only her usual obstinacy, or +was she really incredulous of his tidings? 'I had it from Davidson, who +had congratulated the Doctor himself that morning,' he continued, +sullenly; 'he said he never saw him look better in his life; the girl +was with him.' + +'But not Polly--you cannot mean Polly Ellison?' and now Ethel turned +strangely white. 'Papa, there must be some mistake about it all. I--I +will go and see Mildred.' + +'You may spare yourself that trouble,' returned Mr. Trelawny, gloomily. + +Ethel's changing colour, her evident pain, were not lost upon him. +'There may be a chance for Cathcart still,' was his next thought; +'women's hearts as well as men are often caught at the rebound; she'll +have him out of pique--who knows?' and softened by this latter +reflection he threw down his paper, and continued almost graciously-- + +'Yes, you may spare yourself that trouble, for I met Miss Lambert myself +this afternoon.' + +'And you spoke to her?' demanded Ethel, with almost trembling eagerness. + +'I spoke to her, of course; we had quite a long talk, till she said the +sun was in her eyes, and walked on. She seemed surprised that I had +heard the news already, said it was so like Kirkby Stephen gossip, but +corroborated it by owning that they were all as much in the dark as we +were; but Miss Ellison being such a child, no one had thought of such a +thing.' + +'Was that all she said? Did she look as well as usual? I have not seen +her for nearly a fortnight, you know,' answered Ethel, apologetically. + +'I can't say I noticed. Miss Lambert would be a nice-looking woman if +she did not dress so dowdily; but she looked worse than ever this +morning,' grumbled the Squire, who was a _connoisseur_ in woman's dress, +and had eyed Mildred's brown hat and gray gingham with marked disfavour. +'She said the sun made her feel a little faint, and then she sent her +love to you and moved away. I think we might as well do the civil and +call at the vicarage this afternoon; we shall see the bride-elect +herself then,' and Ethel, who dared not refuse, agreed very unwillingly. + +The visit was a trying ordeal for every one concerned. Polly indeed +looked her prettiest, and blushed very becomingly over the Squire's +laboured compliments, though, to do him justice, they were less hollow +than usual; he was too well pleased at the match not to relapse a little +from his frigidity. + +'You must convince my daughter--she has chosen to be very sceptical,' he +said, with a side-long look at Ethel, who just moved her lips and +coloured slightly. She had kissed Polly in her ordinary manner, with no +special effusion, and added a quiet word or two, and then she had sat +down by Mildred. + +'Polly looks very pretty and very happy, does she not?' asked Mildred +after a time, lifting her quiet eyes to Ethel. + +'I beg your pardon--yes, she looks very nice,' returned Ethel, absently. +'I suppose I ought to say I am glad about this,' she continued with some +abruptness as Mildred took up her work again, and sewed with quick even +stitches, 'but I cannot; I am sorry, desperately sorry. She is a dear +little soul, I know, but all the same I think Dr. Heriot has acted +foolishly.' + +'My dear Ethel,--hush, they will hear you!' The busy fingers trembled a +little, but Mildred did not again raise her eyes. + +'I do not care who hears me; he is just like other men. I am +disappointed in him; I will have no Mentor now but you, Mildred.' + +'Dr. Heriot has done nothing to deserve your scorn,' returned Mildred, +but her cheek flushed a little. Did she know that instinctively Ethel +had guessed her secret, that her generous heart throbbed with sympathy +for a pain which, hidden as it was, was plainly legible to her +clear-sightedness? 'We ought all to be glad that he has found comfort at +last,' she said, a little unsteadily. + +Ethel darted a singular look at her, admiring, yet full of pain. + +'I am not so short-sighted as you. I am sorry for a good man's +mistake--for it is a mistake, whatever you may say, Mildred. Polly is +pretty and good, but she is not good enough for him. And then, he is +more than double her age!' + +'I thought that would be an additional virtue in your eyes,' returned +Mildred, pointedly. She was sufficiently mistress of herself and secure +enough in her quiet strength to be able to retaliate in a gentle womanly +way. Ethel coloured and changed her ground. + +'They have nothing in common. She is nice, but then she is not clever; +you know yourself that her abilities are not above the average, +Mildred.' + +'Dr. Heriot does not like clever women, he has often said so; Olive +would not suit him at all.' + +'I never thought of Olive,' in a piqued voice. Ethel was losing her +temper over Mildred's calmness. 'I am aware plain people are not to his +taste.' + +'No, Polly pleases him there; and then, she is so sweet.' + +'I should have thought him the last man to care for insipid sweetness,' +began Ethel, stormily, but Mildred stopped her with unusual warmth. + +'You are wrong there; there is nothing insipid about Polly; she is +bright, and good, and true-hearted; you undervalue his choice when you +say such things, Ethel. Polly's extreme youthfulness and gaiety of +spirits have misled you.' + +'How lovingly you defend your favourite, Mildred; you shall not hear +another word in her disparagement. What does he call her? Mary?' + +'No, Polly; but I believe he has plenty of pet names for her.' + +'Yes, he will pet her--ah, I understand, and I am not to scorn him. I am +not to call him foolish, Mildred?' + +'Of course not. Why should you?' + +'Ah, why should I? Papa, it is time for us to be going; you have talked +to Miss Ellison long enough. My pretty bird,' as Polly stole shyly up to +them, 'I have not wished you joy yet, but it is not always to be had for +the wishing.' + +'I wish every one would not be so kind,' stammered Polly. Mr. Trelawny's +condescension and elaborate compliments had almost overwhelmed the poor +little thing. + +'How the child blushes! I wonder you are not afraid of such a grave +Mentor, Polly.' + +'Oh, no, he is too kind for that--is he not, Aunt Milly?' + +'I hope you do not make Mildred the umpire,' replied Ethel, watching +them both. 'Oh these men!' she thought to herself, as she dropped the +girl's hand; her eyes grew suddenly dim as she stooped and kissed +Mildred's pale cheek. 'Good--there is no one worthy of you,' she said to +herself; 'he is not--he never will be now.' + +'People are almost too kind; I wish they would not come and talk to me +so,' Polly said, with one of her pretty pouts, as she walked with Dr. +Heriot that evening. He was a little shy of courting in public, and +loved better to have her with him in one of their quiet walks; this +evening he had come again to fetch her, and Mildred had given him some +instruction as to the length and duration of their walk. + +'Had you not better come with us?' he had said to her, as though he +meant it; but Mildred shook her head with a slight smile. 'We shall all +meet you at Ewbank Scar; it is better for you to have the child to +yourself for a little,' she had replied. + +Polly wished that Aunt Milly had come with them after all. Dearly as she +loved her kind guardian and friend, she was still a little shy of him; a +consciousness of girlish incompleteness, of undeveloped youth, haunted +her perpetually. Polly was sufficiently quick-witted to feel her own +deficiencies. How should she ever be able to satisfy him? she thought. +Aunt Milly could talk so beautifully to him, and even Olive had brief +spasms of eloquence. Polly felt sometimes as she listened to them as +though she were craning her neck to look over a wall at some unknown +territory with strange elevations and giddy depths, and wide bridgeless +rivers meandering through it. + +Suppositions, vague imaginations, oppressed her; Polly could talk +sensibly in a grave matter-of-fact way, and at times she had a pretty +_piquante_ language of her own; but Chriss's erudition, and Olive's +philosophy, and even Mildred's gentle sermonising, were wearying to her. +'I can talk about what I have seen and what I have heard and read,' she +said once, 'but I cannot play at talk--make believe--as you grown-up +children do. I think it is hard,' continued practical Polly, 'that Aunt +Milly, who has seen nothing, and has been shut up in a sickroom all the +best years of her life, can spin yards of talk where I cannot say a +word.' But Dr. Heriot found no fault with his young companion; on the +contrary, Polly's _naļveté_ and freshness were infinitely refreshing to +the weary man, who, as he told himself, had lived out the best years of +his life. He looked at her now as she uttered her childish complaint. +One little gloved hand rested on his arm, the other held up the long +skirts daintily, under the broad-brimmed hat a pretty oval face dimpled +and blushed with every word. + +'If people would only not be so kind--if they would let me alone,' she +grumbled. + +'That is a singular grievance, Polly,' returned Dr. Heriot, smiling; +'happiness ought not to make us selfish.' + +'That is what Aunt Milly says. Ah, how good she is!' sighed the girl, +enviously; 'almost a saint. I wish I were more like her.' + +'I am satisfied with Polly as she is, though she is no saint.' + +'No, are you really?' looking up at him brightly. 'Do you know, I have +been thinking a great deal since--you know when----' her colour giving +emphasis to her unfinished sentence. + +'Indeed? I should like to know some of those thoughts,' with a playful +glance at her downcast face. 'I must positively hear them, Polly. How +sweet and still it is this evening. Suppose we sit and rest ourselves +for a little while, and you shall tell me all about them.' + +Polly shook her head. 'They are not so easy to tell,' she said, looking +very shy all at once. Dr. Heriot had placed her on a stile at the head +of the little lane that skirted Podgill; the broad sunny meadow lay +before them, gemmed with trefoil and Polly's favourite eyebright; blue +gentian, and pink and white yarrow, and yellow ragwort, wove straggling +colours in the tangled hedgerows; the graceful campanula, with its +bell-like blossoms, gleamed here and there, towering above the lowlier +rose-campion, while meadow-sweet and trails of honeysuckle scented the +air. + +Dr. Heriot leant against the fence with folded arms; his mood was sunny +and benignant. In his gray suit and straw hat he looked young, almost +handsome. Under the dark moustache his lip curled with an amused, +undefinable smile. + +'I see you will want my help,' he said, with a sort of compassion and +amusement at her shyness. Whatever she might own, his little fearless +Polly was certainly afraid of him. + +'I have tangled them dreadfully,' blushed Polly; 'the thoughts, I mean. +Every night when I go to bed I wish--I wish I were as wise as Aunt +Milly, and then perhaps I should satisfy you.' + +'My dear child!' and then he stopped a little, amazed and perplexed. Why +was Mildred Lambert's goodness to be ever thrust on him, he thought, +with a man's natural impatience? He had not bent his neck to her mild +sway; her friendship was very precious to him--one of the good things +for which he daily thanked God; but this innocent harping on her name +fretted him with a vague sense of injury. 'Polly, who has put this in +your head?' he said; and there was a shadow of displeasure in his tone, +quiet as it was. + +'No one,' she returned, in surprise; 'the thought has often come to me. +Are you never afraid,' she continued, timidly, but her young face grew +all at once sweet and earnest--'are you not afraid that you will be +tired--dreadfully tired--when you have only me to whom to talk?' + +Then his gravity relaxed: the speech was so like Polly,--so like his +honest, simple-minded girl. + +'And what if I were?' he repeated, playing with her fears. + +'I should be so sorry,' she returned, seriously. 'No, I should be more +than sorry; I think it would make me unhappy. I should always be trying +to get older and wiser for your sake; and if I did not succeed I should +be ready to break my heart. No, do not smile,' as she caught a glimpse +of his amused face; 'I was never more serious in my life.' + +'Why, Mary, my little darling, what is this?' he said, lifting the +little hand to his lips; for the bright eyes were full of tears now. + +'No, call me Polly--I like that best,' she returned, hurriedly. 'Only my +father called me Mary; and from you----' + +'Well, what of me, little one?' + +'I do not know. It sounds so strange from your lips. It makes me feel +afraid, somehow, as though I were grown up and quite old. I like the +childish Polly best.' + +'You shall be obeyed, dear--literally and entirely, I mean;' for he saw +her agitation needed soothing. 'But Polly is not quite herself to-night; +these fears and scruples are not like her. Let me hear all these +troublesome thoughts, dearest; you know I am a safe confidant.' And +encouraged by the gentleness of his tone, Polly crept close into the +shelter of the kind arm that had been thrown round her. + +'I don't think it hurts one to have fears,' she said, in her simple way; +'they seem to grow out of one's very happiness. You must not mind if I +am afraid at times that I shall not always please you; it will only be +because I want to do it so much.' + +'There, you wound and heal in one breath,' he replied, half-laughing, +and half-touched. + +'It has come into my mind more than once that when we are alone +together; when I come to take care of you; you know what I mean.' + +'When you are my own sweet wife--I understand, Polly;' and now nothing +could exceed the grave tenderness of his voice. + +'Yes, when you bring me home to the fireside, which you say has been so +lonely,' she returned, with touching frankness, at once childlike and +womanly. 'When you have no one but me to comfort you, what if you find +out too late that I am so young--so very young--that I have not all you +want?' + +'Polly--my own Polly!' + +'Ah, you may call me that, and yet the disappointment may be bitter. You +have been so good to me, I love you so dearly, that I could not bear to +see a shade on your face, young as I am. I do not feel like a child +about this.' + +'No, you are not a child,' he returned, looking at her with new +reverence in his eyes. In her earnestness she had forgotten her girlish +shyness; her hands were clasped fearlessly on his arm, truth was written +on her guileless face, her words rang in his ear with mingled pathos and +purity. + +'No, you are not a child,' he repeated, and then he stopped all of a +sudden; his wooing had grown difficult to him. He had never liked her so +well, he had never regarded her with such proud fondness, as now, when +she pleaded with him for toleration of her undeveloped youth. For one +swift instant a consciousness of the truth of her words struck home to +him with a keen sense of pain, marring the pleasant harmony of his +dream; but when, he looked at her again it was gone. + +And yet how was he to answer her? It was not petting fondness she +wanted--not even ordinary love-speeches--only rest from an uneasy fear +that harassed her repose--an assurance, mute or otherwise, that she was +sufficient for his peace. If he understood her aright, this was what she +wanted. + +'Polly, I do not think you need to be afraid,' he said at last, +hesitating strangely over his words. 'I understand you, my darling; I +know what you mean; but I do not think you need be afraid.' + +'Ah, if I could only feel that!' she whispered. + +'I will make you feel it; listen to me, dear. We men are odd, +unaccountable beings; we have moods, our work worries us, we have tired +fits now and then, nothing is right, all is vanity of vanity, disgust, +want of success, blurred outlines, opaque mist everywhere--then it is I +shall want my little comforter. You will be my veritable Sunbeam then.' + +'But if I fail you?' + +'Hush, you will never fail me. What heresy, what disbelief in a wife's +first duty! Do you know, Polly, it is just three years since I first +dreamt of the beneficent fairy who was to rise up beside my hearth.' + +'You thought of me three years ago?' + +'Thought of you? No, dreamt of you, fairy. You know you came to me first +in a ladder of motes and beams. Don't you remember Dad Fabian's attic, +and the picture of Cain, and the strange guardian coming in through the +low doorway?' + +'Yes, I remember; you startled me.' + +'Polly is a hundred times prettier now; but I can recognise still in you +the slim creature in the rusty black frock, with thin arms, and large +dark eyes, drinking in the sunlight. It was such a forlorn Polly then.' + +'And then you were good to me.' + +'I am afraid I must have seemed stern to you, poor child, repelling your +young impulse in such a manner. I remember, while you were pleading in +your innocent fashion, and Miss Lambert was smiling at you, that a +curious fancy came into my head. Something hardly human seemed to +whisper to me, "John Heriot, after all, you may have found a little +comforter."' + +'I am so glad. I mean that you have thought of me for such a time.' +Polly was dimpling again; the old happy light had come back to her eyes. + +'You see it is no new idea. I have watched my Polly growing sweeter and +brighter day by day. How often you have confided in me; how often I have +shared your innocent thoughts. You were not afraid to show me affection +then.' + +'I am not now,' she stammered. + +'Perhaps not now, my bright-eyed bird; you have borrowed courage and +eloquence for the occasion, inciting me to all manner of lover-like and +foolish speeches. What do you say, little one--do you think I play the +lover so badly, after all?' + +'Yes--no--it does not suit you, somehow,' faltered Polly, truthful +still. + +'What, am I too old?' but Dr. Heriot's tone was piqued in spite of its +assumed raillery. + +'No, you know you are not; but I like the old ways and manners best. +When you talk like this I get shy and stupid, and do not feel like Polly +at all.' + +'You are the dearest and sweetest Polly in the world,' he returned, with +a low, satisfied laugh; 'the most delightful combination of quaintness +and simplicity. I wonder what wise Aunt Milly would say if she heard +you.' + +'That reminds me that she will be expecting us,' returned Polly, +springing off the stile without waiting for his hand. She had shaken off +her serious mood, and chatted gaily as they hurried along the upper +woodland path; her hands were full of roses and great clusters of +campanula by the time they reached Mildred, who was sitting on a little +knoll that overlooked the Scar. In winter-time the beck rushed noisily +down the high rocky face of the cliff, but now the long drought had +dried up its sources, and with the exception of a few still pools the +riverbed was dry. + +Mildred sat with her elbow on her knee, looking dreamily at the gray +scarped rock and overhanging vegetation; while Olive and Chriss +scrambled over the slippery boulders in search of ferns. Behind the dark +woods the sunset clouds were flaming with breadths of crimson and yellow +glory. Over the barren rocks a tiny crescent moon was rising; Mildred's +eyes were riveted on it. + +'We have found some butterwort and kingcups; Dr. Heriot declares it is +the same that Shakespeare calls "Winking Mary-buds." You must add it to +your wild-flower collection, Aunt Milly.' + +'Are you tired of waiting for us, Miss Lambert? Polly has been giving me +some trouble, and I have had to lecture her.' + +'Not very severely, I expect,' returned Mildred. She looked anxiously +from one to another, but Polly's gaiety reassured her as she flung a +handful of flowers into her lap, and then proceeded to sort and arrange +them. + +'You might give us Perdita's pretty speech, Polly,' said Dr. Heriot, who +leant against a young thorn watching her. + +Polly gave a mischievous little laugh. She remembered the quotation; Roy +had so often repeated it. He would spout pages of Shakespeare as they +walked through the wintry woods. 'You have brought it upon yourself,' +she cried, holding up to him a long festoon of gaudy weeds, and +repeating the lines in her fresh young voice. + + 'Here's flowers for you! + Hot lavender, mints, savory, marjoram; + The marigold, that goes to bed with the sun, + And with him rises weeping: these are flowers + Of middle summer, and I think they are given + To men of middle age. You are very welcome.' + +'Oh, Polly--Polly--fie!' + +'Little Heartsease, do you know what you deserve?' but Dr. Heriot +evidently enjoyed the mischief. 'After all, I brought it on myself. I +believe I was thinking of the crazy Danish maid, Ophelia, all the time.' + +'You have had your turn,' answered Polly, with her prettiest pout; 'my +next shall be for Aunt Milly. I am afraid I don't look much like +Ophelia, though. There, Aunt Milly--there's rosemary, that's for +remembrance--pray you, love, remember; and there is pansies, that's for +thoughts.' + +'Make them as gay as your own, Heartsease;' then-- + +'Hush, don't interrupt me; I am making Aunt Milly shiver. "There's +fennel for you and columbines; there's rue for you, and here's some for +me. We may call it herb of grace o' Sundays. You may wear your rue with +a difference."' + +'You are offering me a sorry garland;' and Mildred forced a smile over +the girl's quaint conceit. 'Mints, savory, marjoram, all the homeliest +herbs you could find in your garden. I shall not forget the compliment +to my middle age,' grumbled Dr. Heriot, who was unusually tickled at the +goodness of the _repartee_ Polly was never so thoroughly at her ease as +when she was under Aunt Milly's wing. Just then Mildred rose to recall +Olive and Chriss; as she went down the woody hillock a quick contraction +of pain furrowed her brow. + +'There's rue for you,' she said to herself; 'ah, and rosemary, that's +for remembrance. Oh, Polly, I felt tempted to use old Polonius's words, +and say, "there's a method in madness"; how little you know the true +word spoken in jest; never mind, if I can only take it as "my herb of +grace o' Sundays," it will be well yet.' + +Mildred found herself monopolised by Chriss during their homeward walk. +Polly and Dr. Heriot were in front, and Olive, as was often her custom, +lingering far behind. + +'Let them go on, Aunt Milly,' whispered Chriss; 'lovers are dreadfully +poor company to every one but themselves. Polly will be no good at all +now she is engaged.' + +'What do you know about lovers, a little girl like you?' returned +Mildred, amused in spite of herself. + +'I am not a little girl, I am nearly sixteen,' replied Chriss, +indignantly. 'Romeo and Juliet were all very well, and so were Ferdinand +and Miranda, but in real life it is so stupid. I have made up my mind +that I shall never marry.' + +'Wait until you are asked, puss.' + +'Ah, as to that,' returned the young philosopher, calmly, 'as Dr. John +says, it takes all sorts of people to make up a world, and I daresay +some one will be found who does not object to eye-glasses.' + +'Or to blue stockings,' observed Mildred, rather slyly. + +'You forget we live in enlightened days,' remarked Chriss, +sententiously; 'this sort of ideas belonged to the Dark Ages. Minds are +not buried alive now because they happen to be born in the feminine +gender,' continued Chriss, with a slight confusion of metaphor. + +Mildred smiled. Chriss's odd talk distracted her from sad thoughts. The +winding path had already hidden the lovers from her; unconsciously she +slackened her pace. + +'I should not mind a nice gray professor, perhaps, if he knew lots of +languages, and didn't take snuff. But they all do; it clears the brain, +and is a salutary irritant,' went on Chriss, who had only seen one +professor in her life, and that one a very dingy specimen. 'I should +like my professor to be old and sensible, and not young and silly, and +he must not care about eating and drinking, or expect me to sew on his +buttons, or mend his gloves. Some one ought to invent a mending-machine. +I am sure these things take away half the pleasure of living.' + +'My little Chriss, do you mean to be head without hands? You will be a +very imperfect woman, I am afraid, and I hope in that case you will not +find your professor.' + +'I would rather be without him, after all,' replied Chriss, +discontentedly. 'Men are so stupid; they want their own way, and every +one has to give in to them. I would rather live in lodgings like Roy, +somewhere near the British Museum, where I could go and read every day, +and in the evening I would go to lectures and concerts, or stop at home +and play with Fritter-my-wig: that is just the sort of life I should +like, Aunt Milly.' + +'What is to become of your father and me? Perhaps Olive may marry.' + +'Olive? not a bit of it. She always says nothing would induce her to +leave papa. You don't want me to stop all my life in this little corner +of the world, where everything is behind the times, and there is not a +creature to whom one cares to speak?' + +'Chriss, Chriss, what a Radical you are,' returned Mildred. She was a +little weary of Chriss's childish chatter. They were in the deep lane +skirting Podgill now; just beyond the footbridge Polly and Dr. Heriot +were standing waiting for them. + +'Is the tangle all gone?' he asked presently. 'Are you quite happy +again, Heartsease?' + +'Yes, very happy,' she assured him, with a bright smile, and he felt a +pressure of the hand that rested on his arm. + +'What a darling she is,' he thought to himself somewhat later that +night, as he walked across the market-place, now shining in the +moonlight 'Little witch, how prettily she acted that speech of Perdita, +her eyes imploring forgiveness all the time for her mischief. The child +has deep feelings too. Once or twice she made me feel oddly. But I need +not fear; she will make a sweet wife, I know, my innocent Polly.' + +But the little scene haunted his fancy, and he had an odd dream about it +that night. He thought that they were in the grassy knoll again looking +over the Scar, and that some one pushed some withered herbs into his +hands. 'Here's rue for you, and there's some for me; you may wear your +rue with a difference,' said a voice. + +'Unkind Polly!' he returned, dropping them, and stretched out his arms +to imprison the culprit; but Polly was not there, only Mildred Lambert +was there, with her elbow on her knee, looking sadly over the Scar. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +THE DESERTED COTTON-MILL IN HILBECK GLEN + + Hey the green ribbon! we kneeled beside it, + We parted the grasses dewy and sheen; + Drop over drop, there filtered and slided + A tiny bright beck that trickled between. + Tinkle, tinkle, sweetly it sung to us, + Light was our talk as of faėry bells-- + Faėry wedding-bells faintly rung to us + Down in their fortunate parallels.--Jean Ingelow. + + +Richard came home for a few days towards the end of the long vacation. +He was looking pale and thin in spite of his enforced cheerfulness, and +it was easy to see that the inaction of the last few weeks had only +induced restlessness, and a strong desire for hard, grinding work, as a +sedative for mental unrest. His brotherly congratulations to Polly were +mixed with secret amusement. + +'So you are "Heriot's choice," are you, Polly?' he said, taking her hand +kindly, and looking at the happy, blushing face. + +'Are you glad, Richard?' she whispered, shyly. + +'I can hardly tell,' he returned, with a curiously perplexed expression. +'I believe overwhelming surprise was my first sensation on hearing the +wonderful intelligence. I gave such an exclamation that Roy turned quite +pale, and thought something had happened at home, and then he got in a +temper, and carried off the letter to read by himself; he would have it +I was chaffing him.' + +Polly pouted half-seriously. 'You are not a bit nice to me, Richard, or +Roy either. Why has he never written to me himself? He must have got my +two letters.' + +'You forget; I have never seen anything of him for the last six weeks. +Fancy my finding him off on the tramp when I returned that night, +prosecuting one of his art pilgrimages, as he calls them, to some shrine +of beauty or other. He had not even the grace to apologise for his base +desertion till a week afterwards. However, Frognal without Rex was not +to be borne; so I started off to Cornwall in search of our reading +party, and then got inveigled by Oxenham, who carried me off to +Ilfracombe.' + +'It was very wrong of Rex to leave you; he is not generally so +thoughtless,' returned Polly, who had been secretly chagrined by this +neglect on the part of her old favourite. 'Is there no letter from Rex?' +had been a daily question for weeks. + +'Rex is a regular Bohemian since he took to wearing a moustache and a +velvet coat. All the Hampstead young ladies are breaking their hearts +over him. He looks so handsome and picturesque; if he would only cut his +hair shorter, and open his sleepy eyes, I should admire him myself.' + +Polly sighed. + +'I wish he would come home, dear old fellow. I long to see him; but I am +dreadfully angry with him, all the same; he ought to have written to Dr. +Heriot, if not to me. It is disrespectful--unkind--not like Rex at all.' +And Polly's bright eyes swam with tears of genuine resentment. + +'I shall tell Roy how you take his unkindness to heart.' + +She shook her head. + +'It is very ungrateful of him, to say the least of it. You have spoiled +him, Polly.' + +'No,' she returned, very gravely. 'Rex is too good to be spoiled: he +must have some reason for his silence. If he had told me he was going to +be married--to--to any of those young ladies you mention, I would have +gone to London to see his wife. I know,' she continued, softly, 'Rex was +fonder of me than he was of Olive and Chriss. I was just like a +favourite sister, and I always felt as though he were my own--own +brother. Why there is nothing that I would not do for Rex.' + +'Dear Polly, we all know that; you have been the truest little sister to +him, and to us all.' + +'Yes, and then for him to treat me like this--to be silent six whole +weeks. Perhaps he did not like Aunt Milly writing. Perhaps he thought I +ought to have written to him myself; and I have since--two long +letters.' + +'Dr. Heriot will be angry with Rex if he sees you fretting.' + +'I am not fretting; I never fret,' she returned, indignantly; 'as though +that foolish boy deserved it. I am happier than I can tell you. Oh, +Richard, is he not good?' + +And there was no mistaking the sweet earnestness with which she spoke of +her future husband. + +'Ah, that he is.' + +'How grave you look, Richard! Are you really glad--really and truly, I +mean?' + +'Why, Polly, what a little Jesuit you are, diving into people's secret +thoughts in this way.' And there was a shadow of embarrassment in +Richard's cordial manner. 'Of course I am glad that you should be happy, +dear, and not less so that Dr. John's solitary days are over.' + +'Yes, but you don't think me worthy of him,' she returned, plaintively, +and yet shrewdly. + +'I don't think you really grown up, you mean; you wear long dresses, you +are quite a fashionable young lady now, but to me you always seem little +Polly.' + +'Rude boy,' she returned, with a charming pout, 'one would think you had +gray hairs, to listen to you. I can't be so very young or so very silly, +or he would not have chosen me, you know.' + +'I suppose you have bewitched him,' returned Richard, smiling; but Polly +refused to hear any more and ran away laughing. + +Richard's face clouded over his thoughts when he was left alone. +Whatever they were he kept them locked in his own breast; during the few +days he remained at home, he was observant of all that passed under his +eyes, and there was a deferential tenderness in his manner to Mildred +that somewhat surprised her; but neither to her nor to any other person +did he hint that he was disappointed by Dr. Heriot's choice. + +During the first day there had been no mention of Kirkleatham or Ethel +Trelawny, but on the second day Richard had himself broken the ice by +suggesting that Mildred should contrive some errand that should take her +thither, and that in the course of her visit she should mention his +arrival at the vicarage. + +'I must think of her, Aunt Milly; we are neither of us ready to undergo +the awkwardness of a first meeting. Perhaps in a few months things may +go on much as usual. I always meant to write to her before my +ordination. Tell her that I shall only be here for a few days--that +Polly wants me to wait over her birthday, but that I have no intention +of intruding on her.' + +'Are you so sure she will regard it as an intrusion?' asked Mildred, +quietly. + +'There is no need to debate the question,' was the somewhat hasty reply. +'I must not deviate from the rule I have laid down for myself, to see as +little as possible of her until after my ordination.' + +'And that will be at Whitsuntide?' + +'Yes,' he returned, with an involuntary sigh; 'so, Aunt Milly, you will +promise to go after dinner?' + +Mildred promised, but fate was against her. Olive and Polly had driven +over to Appleby with Dr. Heriot, and relays of callers detained her +unwillingly all the afternoon; she saw Richard was secretly chafing, as +he helped her to entertain them with the small talk usual on such +occasions. He was just bidding a cheerful good-bye to Mrs. Heath and her +sister, when horses' hoofs rung on the beck gravel of the courtyard, and +Ethel rode up to the door, followed by her groom. + +Mildred grew pale from sympathy when she saw Richard's face, but there +was no help for it now; she saw Ethel start and flush, and then quietly +put aside his assistance, and spring lightly to the ground; but she +looked almost as white as Richard himself when she came into the room, +and not all her dignity could hide that she was trembling. + +'I did not know, I thought you were alone,' she faltered, as Mildred +kissed her; but Richard caught the whisper. + +'You shall be alone if you wish it,' he returned, trying to speak in his +ordinary manner, but failing miserably. + +Poor lad, this unexpected meeting with his idol was too much even for +his endurance. 'I was not prepared for it,' as he said afterwards. He +thought she looked sweeter than ever under the influence of that girlish +embarrassment. He watched her anxiously as she stood still holding +Mildred's hand. + +'You shall not be made uncomfortable, Miss Trelawny; it is my fault, not +yours, that I am here. I told Aunt Milly to prevent this awkwardness. I +will go, and then you two will be alone together;' and he was turning to +the door, but Ethel's good heart prompted her to speak, and prevented +months of estrangement. + +'Why should you go, Richard? this is your home, not mine; Mildred, ask +him not to do anything so strange--so unkind.' + +'But if my presence embarrasses you?' he returned, with an impetuous +Coeur-de-Lion look that made Ethel blush. + +She could not answer. + +'It will not do so if you sit down and be like yourself,' said Mildred, +pleadingly. She looked at the two young creatures with half-pitying, +half-amused eyes. Richard's outraged boyish dignity and Ethel's yearning +overture of peace to her old favourite--it was beautiful and yet sad to +watch them, she thought. 'Richard, will you ring that bell, please?' +continued the wary woman; 'Ethel has come for her afternoon cup of tea, +and she does not like to be kept waiting. Tell Etta to be quick, and +fetch some of her favourite seed-cake from the dining-room sideboard.' + +Mildred's common sense was rarely at fault; to be matter-of-fact at such +a crisis was invaluable. It restored Richard's calmness as nothing else +could have done; it gave him five minutes' grace, during which he hunted +for the cake and his mislaid coolness together; that neither could be +found at once mattered little. Richard's overcharged feelings had safe +vent in scolding Etta and creating commotion and hubbub in the kitchen, +where the young master's behests were laws fashioned after the Mede and +Persian type. + +When he re-entered the room Mildred knew she could trust him. He found +Ethel sitting by the open window with her hat and gauntlets off, +enjoying the tea Mildred had provided. He carried the cake gravely to +her, as though it were a mission of importance, and Ethel, who could not +have swallowed a mouthful to save her life, thanked him with a sweet +smile and crumbled the fragments on her plate. + +By and by Mildred was called away on business. She obeyed reluctantly +when she saw Ethel's appealing look. + +'I shall only be away a few minutes. Give her some more tea, Richard,' +she said as she closed the door. + +Richard did as he was bid; but either his hand shook or Ethel's, though +neither owned to the impeachment, and the cup slipped, and some of the +hot liquid was spilt on the blue cloth habit. + +The laugh that followed was a very healing one. Richard was on his knees +trying to undo the mischief and blaming himself in no measured terms for +his awkwardness. When he saw the sparkle in Ethel's eye his brow cleared +like magic. + +'You are not angry with me, then?' + +'Angry with you! What an idea, Richard; such a trifling accident as +that. Why it has not even hurt the cloth.' + +'No, but it has scalded your hand; let me look.' And as Ethel tried to +hide it he held it firmly in his own. + +'You see it is nothing, hardly a red spot!' but he did not let it go. + +'Ethel, will you promise me one thing? No, don't draw your hand away, I +shall say nothing to frighten you. I was a fool just now, but then one +is a fool sometimes when one comes suddenly upon the woman one loves. +But will you promise not to shun me again, not as though you hated me, I +mean?' + +'Hated you! For shame, Richard.' + +'Well, then, as though you were afraid of me. You disdained my +assistance just now, you would not let me lift you from your horse. How +often have I done so before, and you never repulsed me!' + +'You ought not to have noticed it, you ought to have understood,' +returned Ethel, with quivering lips. It was very sweet to be talking to +him again if only he would not encroach on his privilege. + +'Then let things be between us as they always have been,' he pleaded. 'I +have done nothing to forfeit your friendship, have I? I have humbled +myself, not you,' with a flavour of bitterness which she could not find +it in her heart to resent. 'Let me see you sitting here sometimes in my +father's house; such a sight will go far to soothe me. Shall it be so, +Ethel?' + +'Yes, if you wish it,' she returned, almost humbly. + +Her only thought was how she should comfort him. Her womanly eyes read +signs of conflict and suffering in the pale, wan face; when she had +assented, he relinquished her hand with a mute clasp of thanks. He +looked almost himself when Mildred came back, apologising for her long +delay. Had she really been gone half-an-hour--neither of them knew it. +Ethel looked soothed, tranquillised, almost happy, and Richard not +graver than his wont. + +Mildred was relieved to find things on this agreeable footing, but she +was not a little surprised when two days afterwards Richard announced +his intention of going up to Kirkleatham, and begged her to accompany +him. + +'I will promise not to make a fool of myself again; you shall see how +well I shall behave,' he said, anticipating her remonstrance. 'Don't +raise any objection, please, Aunt Milly. I have thought it all over, and +I believe I am acting for the best,' and of course Richard had his way. + +Ethel's varying colour when she met them testified to her surprise, and +for a little while her manner was painfully constrained, but it could +not long remain so. Richard seemed determined that she should be at her +ease with him. He talked well and freely, only avoiding with the nicest +tact any subject that might recall the conversation in the kitchen +garden. + +Mildred sat by in secret admiration and wonder; the simple woman could +make nothing of the young diplomatist. That Richard could talk well on +grave subjects was no novelty to her; but never had he proved himself so +eloquent; rather terse than fluent, addicted more to correctness than +wit, he now ranged lightly over a breadth of subjects, touching +gracefully on points on which he knew them to be both interested, with +an admirable choice of words that pleased even Ethel's fastidiousness. + +Mildred saw that her attention was first attracted, and then that she +was insensibly drawn to answer him. She seemed less embarrassed, the old +enthusiasm woke. She contradicted him once in her old way, he maintained +his opinion with warm persistence;--they disagreed. They were still in +the height of the argument when Mildred looked at her watch and said +they must be going. + +It was Ethel's turn now to proffer hospitality, but to her surprise +Richard quietly refused it. He would come again and bid her good-bye, he +said gravely, holding her hand; he hoped then that Mr. Trelawny would be +at home. + +His manner seemed to trouble Ethel. She had stretched out her hand for +her garden-hat. It had always been a custom with her to walk down the +croft with Mildred, but now she apparently changed her mind, for she +replaced it on the peg. + +'You are right,' said Richard, quietly, as he watched this little +by-play, 'it is far too hot in the crofts, and to-day Aunt Milly has my +escort. Old customs are sometimes a bore even to a thorough conservative +such as you, Miss Trelawny.' + +'I will show you that you are wrong,' returned Ethel, with unusual +warmth, as the broad-brimmed hat was in her hand again. There was a +pin-point of sarcasm under Richard's smooth speech that grazed her +susceptibility. + +Perhaps Richard had gained his end, for an odd smile played round his +mouth as he walked beside her. He did not seem to notice that she did +not address him again, but confined her attention to Mildred. Her cheeks +were very pink, possibly from the heat, when she parted from them at the +gate, and Richard got only a very fleeting pressure of the hand. + +'Richard, I do not know whether to admire or to be afraid of you,' said +Mildred, half in jest, as they crossed the road. + +A flash of intelligence answered her. + +'Did I behave well? It is weary work. Aunt Milly; it will make an old +man of me before my time, but she shall reverence me yet,' and his mouth +closed with the old determined look she knew so well. + +Dr. Heriot had planned a picnic to Hillbeck in honour of Polly's +eighteenth birthday, the vicarage party and Mr. Marsden being the only +guests. + +Hillbeck Wood was a very favourite place of resort on hot summer days. +To-day dinner was to be spread in the deep little glen lying behind an +old disused cotton-mill, a large dilapidated building that Polly always +declared must be haunted, and to please this fancy of hers Dr. Heriot +had once fabricated a weird plot of a story which was so charmingly +terrible, as Chriss phrased it, that the girls declared nothing would +induce them to remain in the glen after sundown. + +There was certainly something weird and awesome in the very silence and +neglect of the place, but the glen behind it was a lovely spot. The +hillsides were thickly wooded; through the bottom of the glen ran a +sparkling little beck; the rich colours of the foliage, wearing now the +golden and red livery of autumn, were warm and harmonious; while a +cloudless sky and a soft September air brightened the scene of +enjoyment. + +Mildred, who, as usual on such occasions, was doomed to rest and +inaction, amused herself with collecting a specimen of ruta muraria for +her fernery, while Polly and Chriss washed salad in the running stream, +and Richard and Hugh Marsden unpacked the hampers, and Olive spread the +tempting contents on dishes tastefully adorned with leaves and flowers +under Dr. Heriot's supervision, while Mr. Lambert sat by, an amused +spectator of the whole. + +There was plenty of innocent gaiety over the little feast. Hugh +Marsden's blunders and large-handed awkwardness were always provocative +of mirth, and he took all in such good part. Polly and Chriss waited on +everybody, and even washed the plates in the beck, Polly tucking up her +fresh blue cambric and showing her little high-heeled shoes as she +tripped over the grass. + +When the meal was over the gentlemen seemed inclined to linger in the +pleasant shade; Chriss was coaxing Dr. Heriot for a story, but he was +too lazy to comply, and only roused himself to listen to Richard and +Hugh Marsden, who had got on the subject of clerical work and the +difficulty of contesting northern prejudice. + +'Their ignorance and hard-headedness are lamentable,' groaned Hugh; +'dissent has a terrible hold over their mind; but to judge from a few of +the stories Mr. Delaware tells us, things are better than they were.' + +'My father met with a curious instance of this crass ignorance on the +part of one of his parishioners about fifteen years ago,' returned +Richard. 'I have heard him relate it so often. You remember old W----, +father?' + +'I am not likely to forget him,' replied Mr. Lambert, smiling. 'It was a +very pitiful case to my mind, though one cannot forbear a smile at the +quaintness of his notion. Heriot has often heard me refer to it.' + +'We must have it for Marsden's benefit then.' + +'I think Richard was right in saying that it was about fifteen years ago +that I was called to minister to an old man in his eighty-sixth year, +who had been blind from his birth, I believe, and was then on his +deathbed. I read to him, prayed for him, and talked to him; but though +his lips moved I did not seem to gain his attention. At last, in +despair, I said good-afternoon, and rose to go, but he suddenly caught +hold of me. + +'"Stop ye, parson," he said; "stop ye a bit, an' just hear me say my +prayers, will ye?" I thought it a singular request, but I remained, and +he began repeating the Lord's Prayer, the Creed, the collect "Lighten +our darkness," and finished up with the quaint old couplet beginning-- + + "Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, + Bless the bed that I lie on," + +and after he had finished he said triumphantly, "Hoo d'ye think I've +deean?" I said, "em gay weel. D'ye think I'll pass?" + +'Of course I said something appropriate in reply; but his attention +seemed wholly fixed on the fact that he could say his prayers correctly, +as he had been probably taught in his early childhood, and when I had +noticed his lips moving he had been conning the prayers over to himself +before repeating them for my judgment.'[3] + +[Footnote 3: Taken from fact.] + +A lugubrious shake of the head was Hugh's only answer. + +'I grant you such a state of things seems almost incredible in our +enlightened nineteenth century,' continued Mr. Lambert, 'but many of my +older brethren have curious stories to tell of their parishioners, all +of them rather amusing than otherwise. Your predecessor, Heriot--Dr. +Bailey--had a rare stock of racy anecdotes, with which he used to +entertain us on winter evenings over a glass of hot whisky toddy.' + +'To which he was slightly too much addicted,' observed Dr. Heriot. + +'Well, well, we all have our faults,' replied the vicar, charitably. 'We +will not speak against poor Bailey, who was in the main a downright +honest fellow, though he was not without his weakness. Betha used to +remonstrate with him sometimes, but it was no use; he said he was too +old to break off a habit. I don't think, Heriot, he ever went to great +lengths.' + +'Possibly not,' was the somewhat dry reply, 'but we are willing to be +amused by the old doctor's reminiscences.' + +'You know the old Westmorland custom for giving names; well, some forty +years ago George Bailey, then a young doctor new to practice, was sent +for to visit a man named John Atkinson, who lived in a house at the head +of Swale-dale. + +'Having reached the place, he knocked at the door, and asked if John +Atkinson lived there. + +'"Nay," says the woman, "we've naebody ev that nyam hereaboots." + +'"What?" says Bailey, "nobody of the name in the dale?" + +'"Nyah," was the reply, made with the usual phlegm and curtness of the +genuine Daleswoman. "There's naebody ev that nyam." + +'"Well, it is very odd," returned Bailey, in great perplexity. "This +looks like the house to which I was directed. Is there any one ill in +the dale?" + +'"Bless me, bairn," exclaimed the woman, "ye'll mean lile Geordie John. +He's my man; en's liggen en theyar," pointing to an inner room, "varra +badly. Ye'll be t'doctor, I warn't. Cum, cum yer ways in en see him. Noo +I think on't, his reet nyam is John Atkinson, byt he allus gas by lile +Geordie John. His fad'r was Geordie, ye kna, an' nobbut a varra lile +chap."' + +'Capital!' observed Dr. Heriot, as he chuckled and rubbed his hands over +this story. 'Bailey told it with spirit, I'll be bound. How well you +have mastered the dialect, Mr. Lambert.' + +'I made it my study when I first came here. Betha and I found a fund +of amusement in it. Have you ever noticed, Heriot, there is a dry, +heavy sort of wit--a certain richness and appropriateness of +language--employed by some of these Dalesmen, if one severs the grain +from the rough husk?' + +'They are not wanting in character or originality certainly, though they +are often as rugged as their own hills. I fancy Bailey had lived among +them till he had grown to regard them as the finest people and the best +society in the world.' + +'I should not wonder. I remember he told me once that he was called to a +place in Orton to see an elderly man who was sick. "Well, Betty," he +said to the wife, "how's Willy?" + +'"Why," says Betty, "I nau'nt; he's been grumbling for a few days back, +and yesterday he tyak his bed. I thout I'd send for ye. He mebbe git'nt +en oot heat or summat; byt gang ye in and see him." The doctor having +made the necessary examination came out of the sickroom, and Betty +followed him. + +'"Noo, doctor, hoo div ye find him?" + +'"Well, Betty, he's very bad." + +'"Ye dunnot say he's gangen t'dee?" + +'"Well," returned Bailey, reluctantly, "I think it is not unlikely; to +my thinking he cannot pull through." + +'"Oh, dear me," sighed Betty, "poor auld man. He's ben a varra good man +t'me, en I'll be wa to looes him, byt we mun aw gang when oor time cums. +Ye'll cum agen, doctor, en deeah what ye can for hym. We been lang +t'gither, Willy an me, that ha' we." + +'Well, Bailey continued his visits every alternate day, giving no hope, +and on one Monday apprising her that he thought Willy could not last +long. + +'Tuesday was market-day at Penrith, and Betty, who thought she would +have everything ready, sent to buy meat for the funeral dinner. + +'On Wednesday Bailey pronounced Willy rather fresher, but noticed that +Betty seemed by no means glad; and this went on for two or three visits, +until Betty's patience was quite exhausted, and in answer to the +doctor's opinion that he was fresher than he expected to have seen him +and might live a few days longer, she exclaimed-- + +'"Hang leet on him! He allus was maist purvurse man I ivver knew, an wad +nobb't du as he wod! Meat'll aw be spoilt this het weather." + +'"Never mind," said Bailey, soothingly, "you can buy some more." + +'"Buy mair, say ye?" she returned indignantly. "I'll du nowt o't mack; +he mud ha deet when he shapt on't, that mud he, en hed a dinner like +other fok, but noo I'll just put him by wi' a bit breead an cheese." + +'As a matter of fact, the meat was spoilt, and had to be buried a day or +two before the old man died.' + +Hugh Marsden's look of horror at the conclusion of the vicar's anecdote +was so comical that Dr. Heriot could not conceal his amusement; but at +this moment a singular incident put a check to the conversation. + +For the last few minutes Polly had seemed unusually restless, and +directly Mr. Lambert had finished, she communicated in an awe-stricken +whisper that she had distinctly seen the tall shadow of a man lurking +behind the wall of the old cotton-mill, as though watching their party. + +'I am sure he is after no good,' continued Polly. 'He looks almost as +tall and shadowy as Leonard in Dr. Heriot's story; and he was crouching +just as Leonard did when the phantom of the headless maiden came up the +glen.' + +Of course this little sally was received with shouts of laughter, but as +Polly still persisted in her incredible story, the young men declared +their intention of searching for the mysterious stranger, and as the +girls wished to accompany them, the little party dispersed across the +glen. + +Mildred, who was busy with one of the maids in clearing the remnants of +the feast and choosing a place where they should boil their gipsy +kettle, heard every now and then ringing peals of laughter mixed with +odd braying sounds. + +Chriss was the first to reappear. + +'Oh, Aunt Milly,' she exclaimed breathlessly, 'what do you think Polly's +mysterious Leonard has turned out to be? Nothing more or less than an +old donkey browsing at the head of the glen. Polly will never hear the +last of it.' + +'Leonard-du-Bray "In a bed of thistles,"' observed Richard, +mischievously. 'Oh, Polly, what a mare's nest you have made of it.' + +Polly looked hot and discomposed; the laugh was against her, and to put +a stop to their teasing, Mildred proposed that they should all go up to +the Fox Tower as they had planned, while she stayed behind with her +brother. + +'We will bring you back some of the shield and bladder fern,' was +Chriss's parting promise. Mildred watched them climbing up the wooded +side of the glen, Dr. Heriot and Polly first, hand-in-hand, and Olive +following more slowly with Richard and Hugh Marsden; and then she went +and sat by her brother, and they had one of their long quiet talks, till +he proposed strolling in the direction of the Fox Tower, and left her to +enjoy a solitary half-hour. + +The little fire was burning now. Etta, in her picturesque red petticoat +and blue serge dress, was gathering sticks in the thicket; the beck +flowed like a silver thread over the smooth gray stones; the sunset +clouds streaked the sky with amber and violet; the old cotton-mill stood +out gray and silent. + +Mildred, who felt strangely restless, had strolled to the mill, and was +trying to detach a delicate spray of ivy frond that was strongly rooted +in the wall, when a footstep behind her made her start, and in another +moment a shadow drew from a projecting angle of the mill itself. + +Mildred rose to her feet with a smothered exclamation half of terror and +surprise, and then turned pale with a vague presentiment of trouble. The +figure behind her had a velvet coat and fair moustache, but could the +white haggard face and bloodshot eyes belong to Roy? + +'Rex, my dear Roy, were you hiding from us?' + +'Hush, Aunt Milly, I don't want them to see me. I only want you.' + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +ROYAL + + 'This would plant sore trouble + In that breast now clear, + And with meaning shadows + Mar that sun-bright face. + See that no earth-poison + To thy soul come near! + Watch! for like a serpent + Glides that heart-disgrace.' + + Philip Stanhope Worsley. + + +'My dear boy, were you hiding from us?' + +Mildred had recovered from her brief shock of surprise; her heart was +heavy with all manner of foreboding as she noted Royal's haggard and +careworn looks, but she disguised her anxiety under a pretence of +playfulness. + +'Have you been masquerading under the title of Leonard-du-Bray, my +dear?' she continued, with a little forced laugh, holding his hot hands +between her own, for Rex was still Aunt Milly's darling; but he drew +them irritably, almost sullenly, away. There was a lowering look on the +bright face, an expression of restless misery in the blue eyes, that +went to Mildred's heart. + +'I am in no mood for jests,' he returned, bitterly; 'do I look as though +I were, Aunt Milly? Come a little farther with me behind this wall where +no one will spy upon us.' + +'They have all gone to the Fox Tower, they will not be back for an hour +yet. Look, the glen is quite empty, even Etta has disappeared; come and +let me make you some tea; you look worn out--ill, and your hands are +burning. Come, my dear, come,' but Roy resisted. + +'Let me alone,' he returned, freeing himself angrily from her soft +grasp, 'I am not going to make one of the birthday party, not even to +please the queen of the feast. Are you coming, Aunt Milly, or shall I go +back the same way I came?' + +Roy spoke rudely, almost savagely, and there was a sneer on the handsome +face. + +'Yes, I will follow you, Rex,' returned Mildred, quietly. + +What had happened to their boy--to their Benjamin? She walked by his +side without a word, till he had found a place that suited him, a rough +hillock behind a dark angle of the wall; the cotton-mill was between +them and the glen. + +'This will do,' he said, throwing himself down on the grass, while +Mildred sat down beside him. 'I had to make a run for it before. Dick +nearly found me out though. I meant to have gone away without speaking +to one of you, but I thought you saw me.' + +'Rex, dear, have you got into trouble?' she asked, gently. 'No, do not +turn from me, do not refuse to answer me; there must be some reason for +this strange behaviour, or you would not shun your best friends.' + +He shook his head, but did not answer. + +'It cannot be anything very wrong, but we must look it in the face, Roy, +whatever it is. Perhaps your father or Richard could help you better +than I could, or even--' she hesitated slightly--'Dr. Heriot.' + +Roy started convulsively. + +'He! don't mention his name. I hate--I hate him,' clenching his hand, +his white artist hand, as he spoke. + +Mildred recoiled. Was he sane? had he been ill and they had not known +it? His fevered aspect, the restless brilliancy of his eyes, his +incoherence, filled her with dismay. + +'Roy, you frighten me,' she said, faintly. 'I believe you are ill, +dear--that you do not know what you are saying;' but he laughed a +strange, bitter laugh. + +'Ill! I wish I were; I vow I should be glad to have done with it. The +life I have been leading for the last six weeks has been almost +unbearable. Do you recollect you once told me that I should take trouble +badly, that I was a moral coward and should give in sooner than other +men? Well, you were a true prophet, Aunt Milly.' + +'Dear Roy, I am trying to be patient, but do you know, you are torturing +me with this suspense.' + +He laughed again, and patted her hand half-kindly, half-carelessly. + +'You need not look so alarmed, mother Milly,' his pet name for her; 'I +have not forged a cheque, or put my name to a bill, or got into any +youthful scrape. The trouble is none of my making. I am only a coward, +and can't face it as Dick would if he were in my place, and so I thought +I would come and have a look at you all before I went away for a long, +long time. I was pretty near you all the time you were at dinner, and +heard all Dad's stories. It is laughable, isn't it, Aunt Milly?' but the +poor lad's face contracted with a look of hopeless misery as he spoke. + +'My dear, I am so glad,' returned Mildred in a reassured tone; 'never +mind the trouble; trouble can be borne, so that you have done nothing +wrong. But I feared I hardly know what, you looked and spoke so +mysteriously; and then, remember we have heard nothing about you for so +long--even Polly's letters have been unanswered.' + +'Did she say so? did she mind it? What does she think, Aunt Milly?' + +'She has not complained, at least to me, but she has looked very wistful +I notice at post-time; once or twice I fancied your silence a little +damped her happiness.' + +'She is happy then? what an ass I was to doubt it,' he groaned; 'as +though she could be proof against the fascinations of a man like Dr. +Heriot; but oh! Polly, Polly, I never could have believed you would have +thrown me over like this,' and Roy buried his face in his hands with a +hoarse sob as he spoke. + +Mildred sat almost motionless with surprise. Strange to say, she had not +in the least realised the truth; perhaps her own trouble had a little +deadened her quick instinct of sympathy, or Roy's apparently brotherly +affection had deceived her, but she had never guessed the secret of his +silence. He had seemed such a boy too, so light-hearted, that she could +hardly even now believe him the victim of a secret and hopeless +attachment. + +And then the complication. Mildred smiled again, a little smile; there +was something almost ludicrous, she thought, in the present aspect of +affairs. Was it predestined that in the Lambert family the course of +true love would not run smooth? Richard, refused by the woman he had +loved from childhood, she herself innocent, but self-betrayed, wasting +strangely under the daily torture she bore with such outward patience, +and now Roy, breaking his heart for the girl he had never really wooed. + +'Rex, dear, I have been very stupid, but I never guessed this,' waking +up from her bitter reverie as another and another hoarse sob smote upon +her ear. Poor lad, he had been right in asserting himself morally unfit +to cope with any great trouble; weak and yet sensitive, he had succumbed +at once to the blow that had shattered his happiness. 'Hush, you must +hear this like a man for her sake--for Polly's sake,' she whispered, +bending over him and trying to unclench his fingers. 'Rex, there is more +than yourself to think about.' + +'Is that all you have to say to me?' he returned, starting up; 'is that +how you comfort people whose hearts are broken, Aunt Milly? How do you +know what I feel, what I suffer, or how I hate him who has robbed me of +my Polly? for she is mine--she is--she ought to be by every law, human +and divine,' he continued, in the same frenzied voice. + +'Hush, this is wrong, you must not talk so,' replied Mildred, in the +firm soothing voice with which she would have controlled a passionate +child. 'Sit down by me again, Rex, and we will talk about this,' but he +still continued his restless strides without heeding her. + +'Who says she loves him? Let him give me my fair chance and see which +she will choose. It will not be he, I warrant you. Polly's heart is +here--here,' striking himself on the breast, 'but she is too young to +know it, and he has taken a mean advantage of her ignorance. You have +all been against me, every one of you,' continued the poor boy, in a +tone so sullen and despairing that it wrung Mildred's heart. 'You knew I +loved her, that I always loved her, and yet you never gave me a hint of +this; you have been worse than any enemy to me; it was cruel--cruel!' + +'For shame, Rex, how dare you speak to Aunt Milly so!'--and Richard +suddenly turned the angle of the wall and confronted his brother. + +'I heard your voice and the last sentence, and--and I guess the rest, +Rex,' and Richard's wrathful voice softened, and he laid his hand on +Roy's shoulder. + +The other looked at him piteously. + +'Are they all with you? have you brought them to gloat over my misery? +Speak out like a man, Dick, is Dr. Heriot behind that wall? I warn you, +I am in a dangerous mood.' + +'No one is with me,' returned Richard, in a tone of forced composure, +'they are in the woods a long way off still; I came back to see what had +become of Aunt Milly. You are playing us a sorry trick, Rex, to be +hiding away like this; it is childish, unmanly to the last degree.' + +'Ah, you nearly found me out once before, Dick; Polly was with you. I +had a good sight of her sweet face then, the little traitor. I saw the +diamonds on her finger. You little knew who Leonard was. Ah, ha!' and +Roy wrenched himself from his brother's grasp as he had done from +Mildred's, and resumed his restless walk. + +'We must get him away,' whispered Mildred. + +Richard nodded, and then he went up and spoke very gently to Roy. + +'I know all about it, Rex; we must think what must be done. But we +cannot talk here; some one else will be sure to find us out, and you are +not in a fit state for any discussion; you must come home with me at +once.' + +'Why so?' + +Richard hesitated and coloured as though with shame. Rex burst again +into noisy laughter. + +'You think I am not myself, eh! that I have had a little of the devil's +liquor,' but Richard's grave pitying glance subdued him. 'Don't be hard +on me, Dick, it was the first time, and I was so horribly weak and had +dragged myself for miles, and I wanted strength to see her again. I +hated it even as I took it, but it has answered its purpose.' + +'Richard, oh, Richard!' and at Mildred's tone of anguish Richard went up +to her and put his arms round her. + +'You must leave him to me, Aunt Milly. I must take him home; he has +excited himself and taken what is not good for him, and so he cannot +control himself as well as usual. Of course it is wrong, but he did not +mean it, I am sure. Poor Rex, he will repent of it bitterly to-morrow if +I can only persuade him to leave this place.' + +But Mildred's tears had already sobered Roy; his manner as he stood +looking at them was half ashamed and half resentful. + +'Why are you both so hard on me?' he burst out at last; 'when a fellow's +heart is broken he is not always as careful as he should be. I felt so +deadly faint climbing the hill in the sun that I took too much of what +they offered as a restorative; only Dick is such a saint that he can't +make allowances for people.' + +'I will make every allowance if you will only come home with me now,' +pleaded his brother. + +'Where--home? Oh, Dick, you should not ask it,' returned Roy, turning +very pale; 'I cannot, I must not go home while she is there. I should +betray myself--it would be worse than madness.' + +'He is right,' assented Mildred; 'he must go back to London, but you +cannot leave him, Richard.' + +'Yes, back to London--Jericho if you will; it is all one and the same to +me since I have lost my Polly. I left my traps at an inn five miles from +here where I slept, or rather woke, last night. I shouldn't wonder if +you have to carry me on your back, Dick, or leave me lying by the +roadside, if that faintness comes on again.' + +'I must get out the wagonette,' continued Richard, in a sorely perplexed +voice, 'there's no help for it. Listen to me, Rex. You do not wish to +bring unhappiness to two people besides yourself; you are too +good-hearted to injure any one.' + +'Is not that why I am hiding?' was the irritable answer, 'only first +Aunt Milly and then you come spying on me. If I could have got away I +should have done it an hour ago, but, as ill-luck would have it, I fell +over a stone and hurt my foot.' + +'Thank Heaven that we are all of the same mind! that was spoken like +yourself, Rex. Now we have not a moment to lose, they cannot be much +longer; I must get out the horses myself, as Thomas will be at his +sister's, and it will be better for him to know nothing. Follow me to +the farm as quickly as you can, while Aunt Milly goes back to the glen.' + +Roy nodded, his violence had ebbed away, and he was far too miserable +and subdued to dispute his brother's will. When Richard left them he +lingered a moment by Mildred's side. + +'I was a brute to you just now, Aunt Milly, but I know you will forgive +me.' + +'It was not you, my dear, it was your misery that spoke;' and as a faint +gleam woke in his eyes, as though her kindness touched him, she +continued earnestly--'Be brave, Rex, for all our sakes; think of your +mother, and how she would have counselled you to bear this trouble.' + +They were standing side by side as Mildred spoke, and she had her hand +on his shoulder, but a rustling in the steep wooded bank above them +arrested all further speech--her fingers closed nervously on his +coat-sleeve. + +'Hush! what was that! not Richard?' + +Roy shook his head, but there was no time to answer or to draw back into +the shelter of the old wall; they were even now perceived. Light +footsteps crunched over the dead leaves, there was the shimmer of a blue +dress, a bright face peeped at them between the branches, and then with +a low cry of astonishment Polly sprang down the bank. + +'Be brave, Rex, and think only of her.' + +Mildred had no time to whisper more, as the girl ran up to them and +caught hold of Roy's two hands with an exclamation of pleasure. + +'Dear Roy, this is so good of you, and on my birthday too. Was Aunt +Milly in your secret? did she contrive this delightful surprise? I shall +scold you both presently, but not now. Come, they are all waiting; how +they will enjoy the fun,' and she was actually trying to drag him with +gentle force, but the poor lad resisted her efforts. + +'I can't--don't ask me, Polly; please let me go. There, I did not mean +to hurt your soft, pretty hand, but you must not detain me. Aunt Milly +will tell you; at least there is nothing to tell, only I must go away +again,' finished Roy, turning away, not daring to look at her, the +muscles of his face quivering with uncontrollable emotion. + +Polly gave a terrified glance at both; even Aunt Milly looked strangely +guilty, she thought. + +'Yes, let him go, Polly,' pleaded Mildred. + +'What does it all mean, Aunt Milly? is he ill, or has something +happened? Why does he not look at me?' cried the girl, in a pained +voice. + +Roy cast an appealing glance at Mildred to help him; the poor fellow's +strength was failing under the unexpected ordeal, but Mildred's urgent +whisper, 'Go by all means, leave her to me,' reached Polly's quick ear. + +'Why do you tell him to go?' she returned resentfully, interposing +herself between them. 'You shall not go, Roy, till you have looked at me +and told me what has happened. Why, his hand is cold and shaking, just +as yours did that hot night, Aunt Milly,' and Polly held it in both hers +in her simple affectionate way. 'Have you been ill, Roy? no one has told +us;' but her lips quivered as though she had found him greatly changed. + +'Yes--no; I believe I must be ill;' but Mildred, truthful woman, +interposed-- + +'He has not been ill, Polly, but something has occurred to vex him, and +he is not quite himself just now. He has told Richard and me, and we +think the best thing will be for him to go away a little while until the +difficulty lessens.' Mildred was approaching dangerously near the truth, +but she knew how hard it would be for Polly's childish mind to grasp it, +unless Roy were weak enough to betray himself. His working features, his +strange incoherence, had already terrified the girl beyond measure. + +'What difficulty, Aunt Milly? If Roy is in trouble we must help him to +bear it. It was wrong of you and Richard to tell him to go away. He +looks ill enough for us to nurse and take care of him. Rex, dear, you +will come home with us, will you not?' + +'No, she says right; I must go,' he returned, hoarsely. 'I was wrong to +come here at all, but I could not help myself. Dear Polly, +indeed--indeed I must; Dick is waiting for me.' + +'And when will you come again?' + +'I cannot tell--not yet.' + +'And you will go away; you will leave me on my birthday without a kind +word, without wishing me joy? and you never even wrote to me.' And now +the tears seemed ready to come. + +'This is past man's endurance,' groaned Roy. 'Polly, if you cared for me +you would not torture me like this.' And he turned so deadly pale that +even Mildred grew alarmed. 'I will say anything you like if you will +only let me go.' + +'Tell me you are glad, that you are pleased; you know what I mean,' +stammered Polly. She had hung her head, and the strange paleness and +excitement were lost on her, as well as the fierce light that had come +in Roy's eyes. + +'For shame, Polly! after all, you are just like other women--I believe +you like to test your power. So I am to wish you joy of your John +Heriot, eh?' + +'Yes, Rex. I have so missed your congratulation.' + +'Well, you shall have it now. How do people wish each other joy on these +auspicious occasions? We are not sister and brother--not even cousins. I +have never kissed you in my life, Polly--never once; but now I suppose I +may.' He snatched her to him as he spoke with an impetuous, almost +violent movement, but as he stooped his head over her he suddenly drew +back. 'No, you are Heriot's now, Polly--we will shake hands.' And as she +looked up at him, scared and sorely perplexed, his lips touched her +bright hair, softly, reverently. 'There, he will not object to that. +Bless you, Polly! Don't forget me--don't forget your old friend Roy. Now +I must go, dear.' And as she still held him half unconsciously, he +quickly disengaged himself and limped painfully away. + +Mildred watched till he had disappeared, and then she came up to the +girl, who was standing looking after him with blank, wide-open eyes. + +'Come, Polly, they will be waiting for us, you know.' But there was no +sign of response. + +'They will be seeking us everywhere,' continued Mildred. 'The sun has +set, and my brother will be faint and tired with his long day. Come, +Polly, rouse yourself; we shall have need of all our wits.' + +'What did he mean?--I do not understand, Aunt Milly. Why was it wrong +for him to kiss me?--Richard did. What made him so strange? He +frightened me; he was not like Roy at all.' + +'People are not like themselves when something is troubling them. I know +all about Roy's difficulty; it will not always harass him. Perhaps he +will write to us, and then we shall feel happier.' + +'Why did he not tell me himself?' returned the girl, plaintively. 'No +one has ever come between us before. Roy tells me everything; I know all +his fancies, only they never come to anything. It is very hard that I am +to be less to him now.' + +'It is the way of the world, little one,' returned Mildred, gravely. +'Roy cannot expect to monopolise you, now that another has a claim on +your time and thoughts.' + +'But Dr. Heriot would not mind. You do not know him, Aunt Milly. He is +so good, so above all that sort of thing. He always said that he thought +our friendship for each other so unique and beautiful--he understood me +so well when I said Roy was just like my own, own brother.' + +'Dear Polly, you must not fret if Roy does not see it in quite the same +light at first,' continued Mildred, hesitating. 'He may feel--I do not +say he does--as though he has lost a friend.' + +'I will write and undeceive him,' she returned, eagerly. 'He shall not +think that for a moment. But no, that will not explain all his sorrowful +looks and strangeness. He seemed as though he wanted to speak, and yet +he shunned me. Oh, Aunt Milly, what shall I do? How can I be happy and +at ease now I know Roy is in trouble?' + +'Polly, you must listen to me,' returned Mildred, taking her hand +firmly, but secretly at her wits' end; even now she could hear voices +calling to them from the farther side of the glen. 'This little +complication--this difficulty of Roy's--demands all our tact. Roy will +not like the others to know he has been here.' + +'No! Are you sure of that, Aunt Milly?' fixing her large dark eyes on +Mildred. + +'Quite sure--he told me so himself; so we must guard his confidence, you +and I. I must make some excuse for Richard, who will be back presently; +and you must help me to amuse the others, and make time pass till he +comes back.' + +'Will he be long gone? What is he doing with Roy?' pushing back her hair +with strangely restless fingers--a trick of Polly's when in trouble or +perplexity; but Mildred smoothed the thick wild locks reprovingly. + +'He will drive him for a mile or two until they meet some vehicle; he +will not be longer than he can help. Roy has hurt his foot, and cannot +walk well, and is tired besides.' + +'Tired! he looks worn out; but perhaps we had better not talk any more +now, Aunt Milly,' continued Polly, brushing some furtive tears from her +eyes; 'there is Dr. Heriot coming to find us.' + +'We were just going to scour the woods for you two,' he observed, eyeing +their discomposed faces, half comically and half anxiously. 'Were you +still looking for Leonard-du-Bray?' But as Polly faltered and turned +crimson under his scrutinising glance, Mildred answered for her. + +'Polly was looking for me, I believe. We have been sad truants, I know, +and shall be punished by cold tea.' + +'And Richard--have you not seen Richard?' he demanded in surprise. + +'Yes, but he left me before Polly made her appearance; he has gone +farther on, and will be back presently. Polly is dreadfully tired, I am +afraid,' she continued, as she saw how anxiously he was eyeing the +girl's varying colour; but Polly, weary and over-anxious, answered with +unwonted irritability-- + +'Every one is tired, more or less; these days are apt to become stupid +in the end.' + +'Well, well,' he returned, kindly, 'you and Aunt Milly shall rest and +have your tea, and I will walk up to the farm and order the wagonette; +it is time for us to be going.' + +'No, no!' exclaimed Polly, in sudden fright at the mistake she had made. +'Have you forgotten your promise to show us the glen in the moonlight?' + +'But, my child, you are so tired.' But she interrupted him. + +'I am not tired at all,' she said, contradicting herself. 'Aunt Milly, +make him keep his promise. One can only have one birthday in a year, and +I must have my own way in this.' + +'I shall take care you have it very seldom,' he returned, fondly. But +she only shivered and averted her face in reply. + +During the hour that followed, while they waited in suspense for +Richard, Polly continued in the same variable mood. She laughed and +talked feverishly; a moment's interval in the conversation seemed to +oppress her; when, in the twilight, Dr. Heriot's hand approached hers +with a caressing movement, she drew herself away almost petulantly, and +then went on with her nonsense. + +Mildred's brow furrowed with anxiety as she watched them. She could see +Dr. Heriot was perplexed as well as pained by the girl's fitful mood, +though he bore it with his usual gentleness. After her childish repulse +he had been a little silent, but no one but Mildred had noticed it. + +The others were talking merrily among themselves. Olive and Mr. Marsden +were discussing the merits and demerits of various Christian names which +according to their ideas were more or less euphonious. The subject +seemed to interest Dr. Heriot, and during a pause he turned to Polly, +and said, in a half-laughing, half-serious tone-- + +'Polly, when we are married, do you always mean to call me Dr. Heriot?' + +For a moment she looked up at him with almost a scared expression. 'Yes, +always,' she returned at last, very quietly. + +'But why so, my child,' he replied, gravely, amusing himself at her +expense, 'when John Heriot is my name?' + +'Because--because--oh, I don't know,' was the somewhat distressed +answer. 'Heriot is very pretty, but John--only Aunt Milly likes John; +she says it is beautiful--her favourite name.' + +It was only one of Polly's random speeches, and at any other time would +have caused Mildred little embarrassment; but anxious, jaded, and weary +as she was, her feelings were not so well under control, and as Dr. +Heriot raised his eyes with a pleased expression as though to hear it +corroborated by her own lips, a burning blush, that seemed to scorch +her, suddenly rose to her face. + +'Polly, how can you be so foolish?' she began, with a trace of real +annoyance in her clear tones; but then she stopped, and corrected +herself with quiet good sense. 'I believe, after all, it is my favourite +name. You know it belonged to the beloved disciple.' + +'Thank you,' was Dr. Heriot's low reply, and the subject dropped; but +Mildred, sick at heart, wondered if her irritability had been noticed. +The pain of that dreadful blush seemed to scorch her still. What would +he think of her? + +Her fears were not quite groundless. Dr. Heriot had noticed her sudden +embarrassment, and had quickly changed the subject; but more than once +that night he went over the brief conversation, and questioned himself +as to the meaning of that strange sudden flush on Mildred Lambert's +face. + +Most of the party were growing weary of their enforced stay, when +Richard at last made his appearance in the glen. The moon had risen, the +heavy autumnal damps had already saturated the place, the gipsy fire had +burnt down to its last ember, and Etta sat shivering beside it in her +red cloak. + +Richard's apologies were ample and sounded sincere, but he offered no +explanation of his strange desertion. The wagonette was waiting, he +said, and they had better lose no time in packing up. He thought even +Polly must have had enough of her beloved cotton-mill. + +Polly made no answer; with Richard's reappearance her forced spirits +seemed to collapse; she stood by listlessly while the others lifted the +hampers and wraps; when the little cavalcade started she followed with a +step so slow and flagging that Dr. Heriot paused more than once. + +'Oh, Heartsease, how tired you are!' he said, pityingly, 'and I have not +a hand to give you. Wrap yourself in my plaid, darling. I have seen you +shiver more than once.' But she shook her head, and the plaid still +trailed from her arm over the dewy grass. + +But Mildred noticed one thing. She saw, when the wagonette had started +along the dark country road, that Dr. Heriot had taken the plaid and +wrapped it round the weary girl; but she saw something else--she saw +Polly steal timidly closer to the side of her betrothed husband, saw the +kind arm open to receive her, and the little pale face suddenly lay +itself down on it with a look of weariness and grief that went to her +heart. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +'IS THAT LETTER FOR ME, AUNT MILLY?' + + 'When dark days have come, and friendship + Worthless seemed, and life in vain, + That bright friendly smile has sent me + Boldly to my task again; + + It has smiled on my successes, + Raised me when my hopes were low, + And by turns has looked upon me + With all the loving eyes I know.' + + Adelaide Anne Procter. + + +There was a long troubled talk between Mildred and Richard that night. +Richard, who had borne his own disappointment so bravely, seemed utterly +downcast on his brother's account. + +'I would rather have had this happen to any of us but Roy,' he said, +walking up and down Mildred's room that night. + +'Hush, Richard, she will hear us,' returned Mildred, anxiously; and then +he came and rested his elbow on the sill beside her, and they talked in +a low subdued key, looking over the shadowy fells and the broad level of +moonlight that lay beneath them. + +'You do not know Roy as well as I do. I believe he is physically as well +as morally unfit to cope with a great sorrow; where other men fight, he +succumbs too readily.' + +'You have your trouble too, Cardie; he should remember that.' + +'I have not lost hope, Aunt Milly,' he returned, gravely. 'I am happier +than Rex--far happier; for it is no wrong for me to love Ethel. I have a +right to love her, so long as no one else wins her. Roy will have it +Polly has jilted him for Heriot.' + +'Jilted him! that child!' + +'Yes, he maintains that she loves him best, only that she is unconscious +of her own feelings. He declares that to his belief she has never really +given her heart to Heriot. I am afraid he is right in declaring the +whole thing has been patched up too hastily. It has always seemed to me +as though Polly were too young to know her own mind.' + +'Some girls are married at eighteen.' + +'Yes, but not Polly; look what a child she is, and how quiet a life she +has led for the last three years; she has seen no one but ourselves, +Marsden, and Heriot; do you know, gentle as he is, she seems half afraid +of him.' + +'That is only natural in her position.' + +'You think it does not augur want of love? Well, you may be right; I +only profess to understand one girl,'--with a sigh--'and I can read her +like a book; but Roy, Aunt Milly--what must we do about Roy?' + +Mildred shook her head dejectedly. + +'He must not come here under the circumstances, it would not be possible +or right; he has done mischief enough already.' + +'Surely he did not betray himself?' in Richard's sternest voice; 'he +assured me over and over again that he had not said a word which Dr. +Heriot might not hear.' + +'No; he commanded himself wonderfully; he only forgot himself once, and +then, poor lad, he recollected himself in time,--but she must have +noticed how badly it went with him--there was heart-break in his face.' + +'I had sad work with him for the first two miles,' returned Richard. 'I +was half afraid of leaving him at all, he looked and spoke so wildly, +only my threat of telling my father brought him to reason; he begged--he +implored me to keep his secret, and that no one but you and I should +ever know of his madness.' + +'There would be nothing gained by telling my brother,' returned Mildred. + +'Certainly not; it would be perfectly useless, and fret him beyond +measure; he would take Roy's trouble to heart, and have no pleasure in +anything. How thankful I am, Aunt Milly, that I have already planned my +London journey for the day after to-morrow.' + +'Yes, indeed, I shall feel easier when he is under your care.' + +'I must invent some excuse for being absent most of the day to-morrow; I +cannot bear to think of him shut up in that wretched inn, and unable to +stir out for fear of being recognised. He was very lame, I remember; I +must find out if he has really injured his foot.' + +'Do you think I might go with you, Cardie?' for Mildred was secretly +yearning to comfort her boy, but Richard instantly put a veto on her +proposal. + +'It would not be safe, Aunt Milly; it will excite less questioning if I +go alone; you must be content to trust him to me. I will bring you a +faithful report to-morrow evening;' and as Mildred saw the wisdom of the +reasoning she resolved to abide by it. + +But she passed a miserable night. Roy's haggard face and fierce reckless +speeches haunted her. She dreaded to think of the time when Richard +would be obliged to return to Oxford, and leave Roy to battle alone with +his misery. She wondered what Richard would think if she were to propose +going up to him for a month or two; she was becoming conscious herself +of a need of change,--a growing irritability of the nerves chafed her +calm spirit, daily suffering and suppression were wearing the brave +heart sadly. Mildred, who ailed nothing ordinarily, had secret attacks +of palpitation and faintness, which would have caused alarm if any one +had guessed it, but she kept her own counsel. + +Once, indeed, Dr. Heriot had questioned her. 'You do not look as well as +you used, Miss Lambert; but I suppose I am not to be consulted?' and +Mildred had shaken her head laughingly. But here was work for the +ministering woman--to forget her own strange sorrow in caring for +another;--Roy needed her more than any one; Olive could be safely left +in charge of the others. Mildred fell asleep at last planning long +winter evenings in the young artist's studio. + +The next day seemed more than usually long. Polly, who looked as though +she had not slept all night, spent her time in listlessly wandering +about the house and garden, much to Olive's mild wonder. + +'I do wish you would get something to do, Polly,' she said more than +once, looking up from her writing-table at the sound of the tapping +heels; 'you have not practised those pieces Dr. John ordered from +London.' + +'Olive is right; you should try and occupy yourself, my dear,' observed +Mildred, looking up from her marking; piles of socks lay neatly beside +her, Mr. Lambert's half-stitched wrist-band was in her lap. She looked +with soft reproving eyes at poor restless Polly, her heart all the time +very full of pity. + +'How can you ask me to play?' returned Polly, in a resentful tone. 'Play +when Roy was ill or in some dreadful trouble--was that their love for +him? When Mildred next looked up the girl was no longer standing +watching her with sad eyes; across the beck, through the trees, she +could see the shimmer of a blue dress; a forlorn young figure strolled +aimlessly down the field path and paused by the weir. Of what was she +thinking? Were her thoughts at all near the truth--'Don't forget me; +think of your old friend Roy!'--were those words, said in the saddest +voice she had ever heard, still ringing in her ears. + +It was late in the evening when Richard returned, and he beckoned +Mildred softly out of the room. Polly, who was sitting beside Dr. +Heriot, followed them with wistful eyes, but neither of them noticed +her. + +Richard gave a very unsatisfactory report. He found Roy looking ill in +body as well as in mind, and suffering great pain from his foot, which +was severely contused, though he obstinately refused to believe anything +was really the matter, and had firmly declared his intention of +accompanying his brother to London. His excitement had quite subsided, +but the consequent depression was very great. Richard believed he had +not slept, from the pain of his foot and mental worry, and being so near +home only made his desolation harder to bear. + +He had pencilled a little line to Polly, which he had begged Richard to +bring with his love, and at the same time declared he would never see +her again when she was once Dr. Heriot's wife; and, when Richard had +remonstrated against the weakness and moral cowardice of adopting such a +line of action, had flamed up into his old fierceness; she had made him +an exile from his home and all that he loved, he had no heart now for +his profession, he knew his very hand had lost its cunning; but not for +that could he love her the less or wish her ill. 'She is Polly after +all,' he had finished piteously, 'the only girl I ever loved or cared to +love, and now she is going near to spoil my whole life!' + +'It was useless to argue with him,' Richard said; 'everything like +advice seemed to irritate him, and no amount of sympathy could lull the +intolerable pain.' He found it answer better to remain silent and let +him talk out his trouble, without trying to stem the bitter current. It +went to Mildred's heart to hear how the poor lad at the last had broken +down utterly at bidding his brother good-bye. + +'Don't leave me, Dick; I am not fit to be left,' he had said; and then +he had thrown himself down on the miserable couch, and had hidden his +face in his arms. + +'And the note, Richard?' + +'Here it is; he said you might read it, that there was not a word in it +that the whole world might not see--she could show it to Heriot if she +liked.' + +'All the same, I wish he had not written it,' returned Mildred, +doubtfully, as she unfolded the slip of paper. + +'Dear Polly,' it began, 'I fear you must have thought me very strange +and unkind last evening--your reproachful eyes are haunting me now. I +cannot bear you to misunderstand me. "No one shall come between us." Ah, +I remember you said that; it was so like you, dear--so like my Polly! +Now you must try not to think hardly of me--a great trouble has befallen +me, as Aunt Milly and Richard know, and I must go away to bear it; no +one can help me to bear it; your little fingers cannot lighten it, +Polly--your sympathy could not avail me; it is my own burden, and I must +bear it alone. You must not fret if we do not meet for some time--it is +better so, far better. I have my work; and, dear, I pray that you may be +very happy with the man you love (if he be the one you love, Polly).' + +'Oh, Richard, he ought not to have said that!' + +'She will not understand; go on, Aunt Milly.' + +'But there can be no doubt of that, he is a good man, almost worthy of +my Polly; but I must not say that any longer, for you are Heriot's Polly +now, are you not? but whose ever you are, God bless you, dear.--Roy.' + +Mildred folded the letter sadly. + +'He has betrayed himself in every line,' she said, slowly and +thoughtfully. 'Richard, it will break my heart to do it, but I think +Polly ought not to see this; we must keep it from her, and one day we +must tell Roy.' + +'I was afraid you might say so, but if you knew how he pleaded that this +might be given to her; he seemed to think it would hinder her fretting. +"She cares for me more than any of you know--more than she knows +herself," he said, as he urged me to take it.' + +'What must we do? I It will set her thinking. No, Richard, it is too +venturesome an experiment.' + +But Mildred's wise precautions were doomed to be frustrated, for at that +moment Polly quietly opened the door and confronted them. + +The two conspirators moved apart somewhat guiltily. + +'Am I interrupting you? I knocked, but no one answered. Aunt Milly looks +disconcerted,' said Polly, eyeing them both with keen inquisitive +glance. 'I--I only wanted to know if Richard has brought me a message or +note from Roy?' + +Richard hesitated and looked at Mildred. This business was making him +anxious; he would fain wash his hands of it. + +'Why do you not answer?' continued the girl, palpitating a little. 'Is +that letter for me, Aunt Milly?' and as Mildred reluctantly handed it to +her, a reproachful colour overspread Polly's face. + +'Were you keeping this from me? I thought people's letters were sacred +property,' continued the little lady, proudly. 'I did not think you +could do such a thing, Aunt Milly.' + +'Dear Polly!' remonstrated Richard; but Mildred interposed with quiet +dignity-- + +'Polly should be just, even though she is unhappy. Roy wished me to read +his letter, and I have done so.' + +'Forgive me!' returned Polly, almost melting into tears. 'I know I ought +not to have spoken so, but it has been such a miserable day,' and she +leant against Mildred as she read the note. + +She read it once--twice--without comment, and then her features began to +work. + +'Dear Aunt Milly, how unhappy he is--he--Roy; he cannot have done +anything wrong?' + +'No, no, my precious; of course not!' + +'Then why must we not help him to bear it?' + +'We can pray for him, Polly.' + +'Yes, yes, but I cannot understand it,' piteously. 'I have always been +Roy's friend--always, and now he has made Richard and you his +confidants.' + +'We are older and wiser, you see,' began Richard, with glib hypocrisy, +which did not become him. + +Polly stamped her little foot with impatience. + +'Don't, Richard. I will not have you talk to me as though I were a +child. I have a right to know this; you are all treating me badly. Roy +would have told me, I know he would, if Aunt Milly had not come between +us!' and she darted a quick reproachful look at Mildred. + +'It is Polly who is hard on us, I think,' returned Mildred, putting her +arm gently round the excited girl; and at the fond tone Polly's brief +wrath evaporated. + +'I cannot help it,' she returned, hiding her face on Mildred's shoulder; +'it is all so wretched, everything is spoiled. Roy is not pleased that I +am going to be married, he seems angry--put out about it; it is not +that--it cannot be that that is the matter with him? Why do you not +answer?' she continued, impatiently, looking at them both with wide-open +innocent eyes. 'Roy cannot be jealous?' + +Mildred would have given worlds to have been able to answer No, but, +unused to evasion of any kind, the prudent falsehood died a natural +death upon her lips. + +'My dear Polly, what makes you so fanciful?' she began with difficulty; +but it was enough,--Mildred's face could not deceive, and that moment's +hesitating silence revealed the truth to the startled girl; her faithful +friend was hurt, jealous. + +'You see yourself that Rex wants you to be happy,' continued Mildred, +somewhat inconsequently. + +'I shall be happy if he be so--not unless,' replied the girl, a little +sadly. + +Her pretty pink colour had faded, her hands dropped from Mildred's +shoulder; she stood for a long time quiet with her lips apart, her young +head drooping almost to her breast. + +'Shall you answer his letter, Polly?' asked Richard at last, trying to +rouse her. + +'Yes--no,' she faltered, turning very pale. 'Give my love to him, +Richard--my dear love. I--I will write presently,' and so saying, she +slowly and dejectedly left the room. + +'Aunt Milly, do you think she guesses?' whispered Richard, when she had +gone. + +'Heaven only knows, Richard! This is a wretched business; there seems +nothing but trouble everywhere,' and Mildred almost wrung her hands. +Richard thought he had never seen her so agitated--so unlike herself. + +The days and weeks that followed tried Mildred sorely; heavy autumnal +rains had set in; wet grass, dripping foliage, heaps of rotting leaves +saturated with moisture, met her eyes daily. A sunless, lurid atmosphere +surrounded everything; by and by the rain ceased, and a merciless wind +drove across the fells, drying up the soddened pools, whirling the last +red leaves from the bare stems, and threatening to beat in the vicarage +windows. + +A terrible scarping wind, whose very breath was bitterness to flesh and +blood, blatant and unresting, filled the valley with a strange voice and +life. + +The river was full to the brim now; the brown water that rushed below +the terrace carried away sticks and branches, and light eddying leaves; +great fires roared up the vicarage chimneys, while the girls sat and +shivered beside them. + +Those nights were terrible to Mildred--the wild stir and tumult, the +fury of the great rushing wind, fevered her blood with strange +excitement, and drove sleep from her pillow, or, when weariness overcame +her, haunted her brain with painful images. + +Never had the tranquil soul so lacked tranquillity, never had daily +life, never had the many-folded hours, held such torture for her. + +'I must have change, or I shall be ill,' she thought, as she +contemplated her wan and bloodless exterior morning after morning. +'Anything but that--anything but having him pitying me.' + +Relief by his hand might be sweet indeed; but a doubt of her own power +of self-control, should weakness seize upon her, oppressed her like a +nightmare, and the longing to escape from her daily ordeal of suffering +amounted to actual agony. + +Morning after morning she opened Richard's letters, in the hope that her +proposal had been accepted, but each morning some new delay or object +fretted her. + +Richard had remained in London up to the last possible moment. Roy's +injured foot had rendered him dependent on his brother's nursing; his +obstinacy had led to a great deal of unnecessary delay and suffering; +wakeful and harassed nights had undermined his strength, and made him so +nervous and irritable by day, that only patience and firm management +could effect any improvement; he was so reckless that it required +coaxing to induce him to take the proper remedies, or to exert himself +in the least; he had not yet roused himself, or resumed his painting, +and all remonstrances were at present unavailing. + +Mildred sighed over this fresh evidence of Roy's weakness and +instability of purpose, and then she remembered that he was suffering, +perhaps ill. No one knew better than herself the paralysing effects on +will and brain caused by anxiety and want of sleep; some stimulus, +stronger than she or Richard could administer, was needful to rouse +Roy's dormant energies. + +Help came when they had least looked for it. + +'Is Roy painting anything now?' asked Polly suddenly, one day, when she +was alone with Mildred. + +[Mildred was writing to Richard; his last letter lay open beside her on +the table. Polly had glanced at it once or twice, but she had not +questioned Mildred concerning its contents. Polly had fallen into very +quiet ways lately; the pretty pink colour had never returned to her +face, the light footstep was slower now, the merry laugh was less often +heard, a sweet wistful smile had replaced it; she was still the same +busy active Polly, gentle and affectionate, as of old, but some change, +subtle yet undefinable, had passed over the girl. Dr. Heriot liked the +difference, even though he marvelled at it. 'Polly is looking quite the +woman,' he would say presently. Mildred paused, a little startled over +Polly's abrupt question.] + +'Richard does not say; it is not in his letter, my dear,' she stammered. + +'Not in this one, perhaps, but in his last,' persisted Polly. 'Try to +remember, Aunt Milly; how does Richard say that Rex occupies himself?' + +'I am afraid he is very idle,' returned Mildred, reluctantly. + +Polly coloured, and looked distressed. + +'But his foot is better; he is able to stand, is he not?' + +'I believe so. Richard certainly said as much as that.' + +'Then it is very wrong for him to be losing time like this; he will not +have his picture in the Academy after all. Some one ought to write and +remind him,' faltered Polly, with a little heat. + +'I have done so more than once, and Richard is for ever lecturing. Roy +is terribly desultory, I am afraid.' + +'Indeed you are wrong, Aunt Milly,' persisted the girl earnestly. 'Roy +loves his work--dearly--dearly--it is only his foot, and--' she broke +down, recovered herself, and hurried on-- + +'I think it would be a good thing if Dad Fabian were to go and talk to +him. I will write to him--yes, and I will write to Roy.' + +Mildred did not venture to dissuade her; she had a notion that perhaps +Polly's persuasion might be more efficacious than Richard's arguments. +She took it quite as a matter of course, when, half an hour later, Polly +laid the little note down beside her. + +'There, you may read it,' she said, hurriedly. 'Let it go in Richard's +letter; he may read it too, if he likes.' + +It was very short, and covered the tiniest sheet of note-paper; the +pretty handwriting was not quite so steady as usual. + +'My dearest brother Roy,' it began--never had she called him that +before--'I have never written to thank you for your note. It was a dear, +kind note, and I love you for writing it; do not be afraid of my +misunderstanding or thinking you unkind; you could not be that to any +one. I am so thankful your poor foot is better; it has been terrible to +think of your suffering all this time. I am so afraid it must have +interfered with your painting, and that you have not got on well with +the picture you began when you were here. Roy, dear, you must promise to +work at it harder than ever, and as soon as you are able. I am sure it +will be the best picture you have ever done, and I have set my heart on +seeing it in the Academy next year; but unless you work your hardest, +there will be no chance of that. I have asked Dad Fabian to come and +lecture you. You and he must have one of your clever art-talks, and then +you must get out your palette and brushes, and set to work on that +pretty little girl's red cloak. + +'Do, Roy--do, my dear brother. Your loving friend, POLLY. + +'Be kind to Dad Fabian. Make much of the dear old man. Remember he is +Polly's friend.' + +It was the morning after the receipt of this letter, so Richard informed +Mildred, that Roy crept languidly from the sofa, where he spent most of +his days, and sat for a long time fixedly regarding the unfinished +canvas before him. + +Richard made no observation, and shortly left the room. When he returned +an hour afterwards, Roy was working at a child's drapery, with +compressed lips and frowning brow. + +He tossed back his fair hair with the old irritable movement as his +brother smiled approval. + +'Well done, Roy; there is nothing like making a beginning after all.' + +'I hate it as much as ever,' was the sullen answer. 'I am only doing it +because--she told me--and I don't mean to disappoint her. I am her +slave; she might put her pretty foot on my neck if she liked. Ah, Polly, +Polly, what a poor fool you have made of me.' And Roy put his head on +the easel, and fairly groaned. + +But there was no shirking labour after that. Roy spent long moody hours +over his work, while Richard sat by with his books. An almost unbroken +silence prevailed in the young artist's studio. 'The sweet whistler' in +Dr. Heriot's little glass-house no longer existed; a half-stifled sigh, +or an ejaculation of impatience, only reached Richard's ears from time +to time; but Roy seemed to have no heart for conversation,--nothing +interested him, his attention flagged after the first few minutes. + +Richard was obliged to go back to Oxford at the beginning of the term; +but Dad Fabian took his place. Mildred learnt to her dismay that the old +man was located at the cottage, at Roy's own wish, and was likely to +remain for some weeks. How Mildred's heart sank at the news; her plan +had fallen to the ground; the change and quiet for which she was pining +were indefinitely postponed. + +No one but Dr. Heriot guessed how Mildred's strength was failing; but +his well-meant inquiries were evidently so unpalatable that he forbore +to press them. Only once or twice he hinted to Mr. Lambert that he +thought his sister was looking less strong than usual, and wanted change +of air. + +'Heriot tells me that you are not looking well--that you want a change, +Mildred,' her brother said to her one day, and, to his surprise, she +looked annoyed, and answered more hastily than her wont-- + +'There is nothing the matter with me, at least nothing of consequence. I +am not one of those who are always fancying themselves ill.' + +'But you are thinner. Yes, I am sure he is right; you are thinner, +Mildred.' + +'What nonsense, Arnold; he has put that in your head. + +By and by I shall be glad of a little change, I daresay. When Mr. Fabian +leaves Roy, I mean to take his place.' + +'A good idea,' responded Mr. Lambert, warmly; 'it will be a treat for +Rex, and will do you good at the same time. I was thinking of running up +myself after Christmas. One sees so little of the boy, and his letters +are so short and unsatisfactory; he seems a little dull, I fancy.' + +'Mr. Fabian will cheer him up,' replied Mildred, evasively. She was +thankful when her brother went back to his study. She felt more than +usually oppressed and languid that day, though she would not own it to +herself; her work wearied her, and the least effort to talk jarred the +edge of her nerves. + +'How dreadful it is to feel so irritable and cross, as I have done +lately,' she thought. 'Perhaps after all he is right, and I am not so +strong as usual; but I cannot have them all fancying me ill. The bare +idea is intolerable. If I am going to be ill, I hope I may know it, that +I may get away somewhere, where his kindness will not kill me.' + +She shivered here, partly from the thought, and partly from the opening +of the door. A keen wind whistled through the passage, a rush of cold +air followed Polly as she entered. Dr. Heriot was with her. + +His cordial greeting was as hearty as ever. + +'All alone, and in the dark, and positively doing nothing; how unlike +Aunt Milly,' he said, in his cheerful quizzical voice; and kneeling down +on the rug, he stirred the fire, and threw on another log, rousing a +flame that lighted up the old china and played on the ebony chairs and +cabinet. + +The shadows had all fled now, the firelight gleamed warmly on the couch, +where Mildred was sitting in her blue dress, and on Dr. Heriot's dark +face as he threw himself down in the easy-chair that, as he said, looked +so inviting. + +'Polly is tired, and so am I. We have been having an argument that +lasted us all the way from Appleby.' And he leant back his head on the +cushions, and looked up lazily at Polly as she stood beside him in her +soft furs, swinging her hat in her hand and gazing into the fire. +'Polly, do be reasonable and sit down!' he exclaimed, coaxingly. + +'I cannot, I shall be late for tea; I--I--do not wish to say anything +more about it,' she panted, somewhat unsteadily. + +'Nay, Heartsease,' he returned, gravely, 'this is hardly using me well; +let us refer the case to Aunt Milly. This naughty child,' he continued, +imprisoning her hand, as she still stood beside him--and Mildred noticed +now that she seemed to lean against the chair for support--'this naughty +Polly of ours is giving me trouble; she will have it she is too young to +be married.' + +Mildred put her hand suddenly to her heart; a troublesome palpitation +oppressed her breathing. Polly hung her head, and then a sudden +resolution seized her. + +'Let me go to Aunt Milly. I want to speak to her,' she said, wrenching +herself gently from his hold; and as he set her free, she dropped on the +rug at Mildred's side. + +'You must not come to me to help you, Polly,' said Mildred, with a faint +smile; 'you must be guided in this by Dr. Heriot's wishes.' + +'Ah, I knew you would be on my side, Miss Lambert; but you have no idea +how obstinate she is. She declares that nothing will induce her to marry +until her nineteenth birthday.' + +'A whole year!' repeated Mildred, in surprise. She felt like a prisoner, +to whom the bitterness of death was past, exposed to the torturing +suspense of a long reprieve. + +'Oh, Aunt Milly, ask him not to press me,' pleaded the girl; 'he is so +good and patient in everything else, but he will not listen to me in +this; he wants me to go home to him now, this Christmas.' + +'Why should we wait?' replied Dr. Heriot, with an unusual touch of +bitterness in his voice. 'I shall never grow younger; my home is +solitary enough, Heaven knows; and in spite of all my kind friends here, +I have to endure many lonely hours. Polly, if you loved me, I think you +would hardly refuse.' + +'He says right,' whispered Mildred, laying her cold hand on the girl's +head. 'It is your duty; he has need of you.' + +'I cannot,' replied Polly, in a choked voice; but as she saw the cloud +over her lover's brow, she came again to his side, and knelt down beside +him. + +'I did not mean to grieve you, dear; but you will wait, will you not?' + +'For what reason, Polly?' in a sterner voice than she had ever heard +from him before. + +'For many reasons; because--because--' she hesitated, 'I am young, and +want to grow older and wiser for your sake; because--' and now a low sob +interrupted her words, 'though I love you--dearly--ah, so dearly--I want +to love you more, as I know I shall every day. You must not be angry +with me if I try your patience a little.' + +'I am not angry,' he repeated, slowly, 'but your manner troubles me. Are +you sure you do not repent our engagement--that you love me, Polly?' + +'Yes, yes; please do not say such things,' clinging to him, and crying +as though her heart would break. + +They had almost forgotten Mildred, shrinking back in the corner of her +couch. + +'Hush! Heartsease, my darling--hush! you distress me,' soothing her with +the utmost tenderness. 'We will talk of this again; you shall not be +hampered or vexed by me. I am not so selfish as that, Polly.' + +'No, you are goodness itself,' she replied, remorsefully; and now she +kissed his hand--oh, so gratefully. 'But you must never say that +again--never--never.' + +'What?' + +'That I do not love you; it is not the truth; it cannot be, you know. +You do not think it?' looking up fearfully into his face. + +'I think you love me a little,' he answered, lightly--too lightly, +Mildred thought, for the gloomy look had not passed away from his eyes. + +'He is disappointed; he thinks as I do, that perfect love ought to cast +out fear,' she said to herself. + +But whatever were his thoughts, he did not give utterance to them, but +only seemed bent on soothing Polly's agitation. When he had succeeded, +he sent her away, to get rid of all traces of tears, as he said, but as +the door closed on her, Mildred noticed a weary look crossed his face. + +How her heart yearned to comfort him! + +'Right or wrong, I suppose I must abide by her decision, he said at +last, speaking more to himself than to her. That roused her. + +'I do not think so,' she returned, speaking with her old energy. 'Give +her a little time to get used to the idea, and then speak to her again. +The thought of Christmas has startled her. Perhaps Easter would frighten +her less.' + +'That is just it. Why should it frighten her?' he returned, doubtfully. +'She has known me now for three years. I am no stranger to her; she has +always been fond of me; she has told me so over and over again. No,' he +continued, decidedly, 'I will not press her to come till she wishes it. +I am no boy that cannot bear a disappointment. I ought to be used to +loneliness by this time.' + +'No, no; she shall not treat you so, Dr. Heriot. I will not have it. +I--some one will prevent it; you shall not be left lonely for another +year--you, so good and so unselfish.' But here Mildred's excitement +failed; a curious numb feeling crept over her; she fancied she saw a +surprised look on Dr. Heriot's face, that he uttered an exclamation of +concern, and then she knew no more. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +COOP KERNAN HOLE + + 'The great and terrible Land + Of wilderness and drought + Lies in the shadows behind me-- + For the Lord hath brought me out. + + 'The great and terrible river + I stood that night to view + Lies in the shadows before me-- + But the Lord will bear me through.'--Poems by R. M. + + +Mildred felt a little giddy and confused when she opened her eyes. + +'Is anything the matter? I suppose I have been a little faint; but it is +nothing,' she said, feebly. Her head was on a soft pillow; her face was +wet with cold, fragrant waters; Polly was hanging over her with a +distressed expression; Dr. Heriot's hand was on her wrist. + +'Hush, you must not talk,' he said, with a grave, professional air, 'and +you must drink this,' so authoritatively that Mildred could not choose +but to obey. 'It is nothing of consequence,' he continued, noticing an +anxious look on her face; 'the room was hot, and our talk wearied you. I +noticed you were very pale when we came in.' And Mildred felt relieved, +and asked no more questions. + +She was very thankful for the kindness that shielded her from all +questioning and comment. When Dr. Heriot had watched the reviving +effects of the cordial, and had satisfied himself that there would be no +return of the faintness, he quietly but peremptorily desired that Polly +should leave her. 'You would like to be perfectly alone for a little +while, would you not?' he said, as he adjusted the rug over her feet and +placed the screen between her and the firelight, and Mildred thanked him +with a grateful glance. How could he guess that silence was what her +exhausted nerves craved more than anything? + +But Dr. Heriot was not so impervious as he seemed. He was aware that +some nervous malady, caused by secret anxiety or hidden care, was +wasting Mildred's fine constitution. The dilated pupils of the eyes, the +repressed irritability of manner, the quick change of colour, with other +signs of mental disturbance, had long ago attracted his professional +notice, and he had racked his brains to discover the cause. + +'She has over-exerted herself, or else she has some trouble,' he said to +himself that night, as he sat beside his solitary fire. She had crept +away to her own room during the interval of peace that had been allowed +her, and he had not suffered them to disturb her. 'I will come and see +her to-morrow,' he had said to Olive; 'let her be kept perfectly quiet +until then;' and Olive, who knew from experience the soothing effects of +his prescription, mounted guard herself over Mildred's room, and forbade +Polly or Chriss to enter. + +Dr. Heriot had plenty of food for meditation that night. In spite of his +acquiescence in Polly's decision, he felt chilled and saddened by the +girl's persistence. + +For the first time he gravely asked himself, Had he made a mistake? Was +she too young to understand his need of sympathy? Would it come to this, +that after all she would disappoint him? As he looked round the empty +room a strange bitterness came over him. + +'And it is to this loneliness that she will doom me for another year,' +he said, and there was a heavy cloud on his brow as he said it. 'If she +really loved me, would she abandon me to another twelvemonth of +miserable retrospection, with only Margaret's dead face to haunt me with +its strange beauty?' But even as the thought passed through him came the +remembrance of those clinging arms and the dark eyes shining through +their tears. + +'I love you dearly--dearly--but I want to love you more.' + +'Oh, Heartsease,' he groaned, 'I fear that the mistake is mine, and that +I have not yet won the whole of your innocent heart. I have taken it too +much as a matter of course. Perhaps I have not wooed you so earnestly as +I should have wooed an older woman, and yet I hardly think I have failed +in either devotion or reverence. Ah,' he continued, with an involuntary +sigh, 'what right have I to complain if she withhold her fresh young +love--am I giving her all that is in me to give?' But here he stopped, +as though the reflection pained him. + +He remembered with what sympathy Mildred had advocated his cause. She +had looked excited--almost indignant--as Polly had uttered her piteous +protest for time. Had her clear eyes noticed any signs of vacillation or +reluctance? Could he speak to her on the subject? Would she answer him +frankly? And then, for the first time, he felt as though he could not so +speak to her. + +'Every one takes their troubles to her, but she shall not be harassed by +me,' he thought. 'She is sinking now under the burdens which most likely +other people have laid upon her. I will not add to their weight.' And a +strange pity and longing seized him to know what ailed the generous +creature, who never thought of herself, but of others. + +Mildred felt as though some ordeal awaited her when she woke the next +morning. She looked so ill and weak that Olive was in despair when she +insisted on rising and dressing herself. 'It will bring on the faintness +again to a certainty,' she said, in a tone of unusual remonstrance; but +Mildred was determined. + +But she was glad of Olive's assistance before she had finished, and the +toilet was made very slowly and wearily. At the drawing-room door Dr. +Heriot met her with a reproachful face; he looked a little displeased. + +'So you have cast my prescription to the wind,' he said, drily, 'and are +determined not to own yourself ill.' But Mildred coloured so painfully +that he cut short his lecture and assisted her to the couch in silence. + +'There you may stop for the next two or three days,' he continued, +somewhat grimly. 'Mr. Lambert has desired me to look after you, and I +shall take good care that you do not disobey my orders again. I have +made Olive head nurse, and woe be to her if there be a single +infringement of my rules.' + +Mildred looked up at him timidly. He had been so gentle with her the +preceding evening that this change of manner disturbed her. This was not +his usual professional gravity; on such occasions he had ever been +kindness itself. He must be put out--annoyed--the idea was absurd, but +could she have displeased him? She was too weak to bear the doubt. + +'Have I vexed you, Dr. Heriot, by coming down?' she asked, gently. 'I +should be worse if I fancied myself ill. I--I have had these attacks +before; they are nothing.' + +'That is your opinion, is it? I must say I thought better of your sense, +Miss Lambert,' still gruffly. + +Mildred's eyes filled with tears. + +'Yes, I am vexed,' he continued sitting down by her; but his tone was +more gentle now. 'I am vexed that you are hiding from us that you are +suffering. You keep us all in the dark; you deny you are ill. I think +you are treating us all very badly.' + +'No--no,' she returned, with difficulty. 'I am not ill--you must not +tell me so.' And her cheek paled perceptibly. + +'Have you turned coward suddenly?' he replied, with a keen look at her. +'I have heard you say more than once that the dread of illness was +unknown to you; that you could have walked a fever hospital without a +shudder. What has become of your courage, Miss Lambert?' + +'I am not afraid, but I do not want to be ill,' she returned, faintly. + +'That is more unlike you than ever. Impatience, want of submission, do +not certainly belong to your category of faults. Well, if you promise to +follow my prescription, I think I can undertake that you shall not be +ill.' + +Mildred drew a long sigh of relief; the sigh of an oppressed heart was +not lost on Dr. Heriot. + +'But you must get rid of what is on your mind,' he went on, quickly. 'If +other people's burdens lie heavily, you must shift them to their own +shoulders and think only of yourself. Now I want to ask you a few +questions.' + +Mildred looked frightened again, but something in Dr. Heriot's manner +this morning constrained her to obey. His inquiries were put skilfully, +and needed only a yea and nay, as though he feared she would elude him. +Mildred found herself owning to loss of appetite and want of sleep; to +languor and depression, and a tendency to excessive irritation; noises +jarred on her; a latent excitement took the place of strength. She had +lost all pleasure in her duties, though she still fulfilled them. + +'And now what does this miserable state of the nerves mean?' was his +next question. Mildred said nothing. + +'You have suffered no shock--nothing has alarmed you?' She shook her +head. + +'You cannot eat or sleep; when you speak you change colour with every +word; you are wasted, getting thinner every day, and yet there is no +disease. This must mean something, Miss Lambert--excuse me; but I am +your friend as well as your doctor. I cannot work in the dark.' + +Mildred's lips quivered. 'I want change--rest. I have had anxieties--no +one can be free in this world. I am getting too weak for my work.' What +a confession from Mildred! At another time she would have died rather +than utter it; but his quiet strength of will was making evasion +impossible. She felt as though this friend of hers was reading her +through and through. She must escape in some measure by throwing herself +upon his mercy. + +He looked uneasy at that; his eyes softened, then suffused. + +'I thought as much,' he muttered; 'I could not be deceived by that +face.' And a great pity swelled up in his heart. + +He would like to befriend this noble woman, who was always so ready to +sacrifice herself to the needs of others. He would ask her to impart her +trouble, whatever it was; he might be able to help her. But Mildred, who +read his purpose in his eyes, went on breathlessly-- + +'It is the rest I want, and the change; I am not ill. I knew you would +say so; but the nerves get strained sometimes, and then worries will +come.' + +'Tell me your trouble,' he returned abruptly, but it was the abruptness +of deep feeling. 'I have not forgotten your kindness to me on more than +one occasion. I have debts of gratitude to pay, and they are heavy. Make +me your friend--your brother, if you will; you will find I am to be +trusted.' But the poor soul only shrank from him. + +'It cannot be told--there are reasons against it. I have more than one +trouble--anxiety,' she faltered. 'Dr. Heriot, indeed--indeed, you are +very good, but there are some things that cannot be told.' + +'As you will,' he returned, very gently; but Mildred saw he was +disappointed. In what a strange complication she was involved! She could +not even speak to him of her fear on Roy's behalf. He took his leave +soon after that, and Mildred fancied a slight reserve mingled with the +kindness with which he bade her good-bye. + +He seemed conscious of it, for he came back again after putting on his +coat, thereby preventing a miserable afternoon of fanciful remorse on +Mildred's part. + +'I will think what is to be done about the change,' he said, drawing on +his driving-gloves. 'I am likely to be busy all day, and shall not see +you again this evening. Keep your mind at rest as well as you can. You +don't need to be told in what spirit all trials must be borne--the +darker the cloud the more need of faith.' He held out his hand to her +again with one of his bright, genial smiles, and Mildred felt braced and +comforted. + +Mildred was obliged to allow herself to be treated as an invalid for the +next few days; but when Dr. Heriot saw how the inaction and confinement +fretted her, he withdrew a few of his restrictions, even at times going +against his better judgment, when he saw how cruelly she chafed under +her own restlessness. + +This was the case one chill, sunless afternoon, when he found her +standing by the window looking out over the fells, with a sad +wistfulness that went to his heart. + +As he went up to her he was shocked to see the marks of recent tears +upon her face. + +'What is this--you are not worse to-day?' he asked, in a tone of vexed +remonstrance. + +'No--oh no,' she returned, holding out her hand to him with a misty +smile, the thin blue-veined hand, with its hot dry palm; 'you will think +me a poor creature, Dr. Heriot, but I could not help fretting over my +want of strength just now.' + +'Rome was not built in a day,' he responded, cheerily; 'and people who +indulge in fainting fits cannot expect to feel like Hercules. Who would +have thought that such an inexorable nurse as Miss Lambert should prove +such a fractious invalid?' and there was a tone of reproof under the +light raillery. + +'I do not mean to be impatient,' she answered, sighing; 'but I am so +weary of this room and my own thoughts, and then there are my poor +people.' + +'Don't trouble your head about them; they will do very well without +you,' with pretended roughness. + +She shook her head. + +'You are wrong; they miss me dreadfully; Olive has brought me several +messages from them already.' + +'Then Olive ought to be ashamed of herself, and shall be deposed from +her office of nurse, and Polly shall reign in her stead.' + +But Mildred was too much depressed and in earnest to heed his banter. + +'There is poor Rachel Sowerby up at Stenkrith; her mother has been down +this morning to say that she cannot last very much longer.' + +'I am just going up to see her now. I fear it is only a question of +days,' he replied, gravely. + +Mildred clasped her hands with an involuntary movement of pain. + +'Rachel is very dear to me; she is the model girl and the favourite of +the whole school, and her mother says she is pining to see me. Oh, Dr. +Heriot--' but here she stopped. + +'Well,' he returned, encouragingly; and for the second time he noticed +the exceeding beauty of Mildred's eyes, as she fixed them softly and +beseechingly on his face. + +'Do you think it would hurt me to go that little distance, just to see +Rachel?' + +'What, in this bitter wind!' he remonstrated. 'Wait until to-morrow, and +I will drive you over.' + +'There may be no to-morrows for Rachel,' she returned, with gentle +persistence. 'I am afraid I shall fret sadly if I do not see her again; +she was my best Sunday scholar. The wind will not hurt me; if you knew +how I long to be out in it; just before you came in I was wishing I were +on the top of one of those fells, feeling it sweep over me.' + +'Ministers of grace defend me from the soft pleading of a woman's +tongue!' exclaimed Dr. Heriot, impatiently, but he laughed too; 'you are +a most troublesome patient, Miss Lambert; but I suppose you must have +your way; but you must take the consequences of your own wilfulness.' + +Mildred quietly seated herself. + +'No, I am not wilful; I have no wish to disobey you,' she returned, in a +low voice. + +He drew near and questioned her face; evidently it dissatisfied him. + +'If I do not let you go, you will only worry yourself the whole day, and +your lungs are sound enough,' he continued, brusquely; but Mildred's +strange unreasonableness tried him. 'Wrap yourself up well. Polly is +going with me, but there is plenty of room for both. I will pay my +visit, and leave you with Rachel for an hour, while I get rid of some of +my other patients.' + +Mildred lost no time in equipping herself, and though Dr. Heriot +pretended to growl the greater part of the way, he could not help +noticing how the wind--bleak and boisterous as it was--seemed to freshen +his patient, and bring back the delicate colour to her cheeks. + +'What a hardy north-country woman you have become,' he said, as he +lifted her down from the phaeton, and they went up the path to the +house. + +'I feel changed already; thank you for giving me my way in this,' was +the grateful answer. + +When Dr. Heriot had taken his departure, she went up to the sickroom, +and sat for a long time beside her old favourite, reading and praying +with her, until Rachel had fallen into a doze. + +'She will sleep maybe for an hour or two; she had a terrible night of +pain,' whispered Mrs. Sowerby, 'and she will sleep all the sweeter for +your reading to her. Poor thing! she was set on seeing her dear Miss +Lambert, as she always calls you.' + +'I will come again and see her to-morrow, if Dr. Heriot permits it,' she +replied. + +When Mrs. Sowerby had gone back to her daughter's room, she went and sat +by herself at a window looking over Stenkrith; the rocks and white +foaming pools were distinctly visible through the leafless trees; a +steep flight of steps led down to the stream and waterfall; the steps +were only a few yards from the Sowerbys' house. As Mildred looked, a +strange longing to see the place again took possession of her. + +For a moment she hesitated, as Dr. Heriot's strictures on her imprudence +recurred to her memory, but she soon repelled them. + +'He does not understand--how can he--that this confinement tries me,' +she thought, as she crept softly down the stairs, so as not to disturb +Rachel. 'The wind was delicious. I feel ten times better than I did in +that hot room; he will not mind when I tell him so.' + +Mildred's feverish restlessness, fed by bitter thought, was getting the +better of her judgment; like the skeleton placed at Egyptian feasts to +remind the revellers that they were mortal, so Mildred fancied her +courage would be strengthened, her resolution confirmed, by a visit to +the very spot where her bitterest wound had been received; she +remembered how the dark churning waters had mingled audibly with her +pain, and for the moment she had wished the rushing force had hurried +her with it, with her sweet terrible secret undisturbed, to the bottom +of that deep sunless pool. + +And now the yearning to see it again was too strong to be resisted. +Polly had accompanied Dr. Heriot. Mrs. Sowerby was in her daughter's +room; there was no one to raise a warning voice against her imprudence. + +The whole place looked deserted and desolate; the sun had hidden its +face for days; a dark moisture clung to the stones, making them slippery +in places; the wind was more boisterous than ever, wrapping Mildred's +blue serge more closely round her feet, and entangling her in its folds, +blowing her hair wildly about her face, and rendering it difficult with +her feeble force to keep her footing on the slimy rocks. + +'I shall feel it less when I get lower down,' she panted, as she +scrambled painfully from one rock to another, often stopping to take +breath. A curious mood--gentle, yet reckless--was on her. 'He would be +angry with her,' she thought Ah, well! his anger would only be sweet to +her; she would own her fault humbly, and then he would be constrained to +forgive her; but this longing for freedom, for the strong winds of +heaven, for the melody of rushing waters, was too intense to be +resisted; the restlessness that devoured her still led her on. + +'I see something moving down there,' observed Polly, as Dr. Heriot's +phaeton rolled rapidly over the bridge--'down by the steps, I mean; it +looked almost like Aunt Mildred's blue serge dress.' + +'Your eyes must have deceived you, then,' he returned coolly, as he +pulled up again at the little gate. + +Polly made no answer, but as she quickened her steps towards the place, +he followed her, half vexed at her persistence. + +'My dear child, as though your Aunt Milly would do anything so absurd,' +he remonstrated. 'Why, the rocks are quite unsafe after the rain, and +the wind is enough to cut one in halves.' + +'It is Aunt Milly. I told you so,' returned Polly, triumphantly, as she +descended the step; 'there is her blue serge and her beaver hat. Look! +she sees us; she is waving her hand.' + +Dr. Heriot suppressed the exclamation that rose to his lips. + +'Take care, Polly, the steps are slippery; you had better not venture on +the stones,' he said, peremptorily. 'Keep where you are, and I will +bring Miss Lambert back.' + +Mildred saw him coming; her heart palpitated a little. + +'He will think me foolish, little better than a child,' she said to +herself; he will not know why I came here;' and her courage evaporated. +All at once she felt weak; the rocks were certainly terribly slippery. + +'Wait for me; I will help you!' he shouted, seeing her indecision; but +either Mildred did not hear, or she misunderstood him; the stone was too +high for her unassisted efforts; she tried one lower; it was wet; her +foot slipped, she tried to recover herself, fell, and then, to the +unspeakable horror of the two watching her above, rolled from rock to +rock and disappeared. + +Polly's wild shriek of dismay rang through the place, but Dr. Heriot +never lost his presence of mind for a moment. + +'Stay where you are; on your peril disobey me!' he cried, in a voice of +thunder, to the affrighted girl; and then, though with difficulty, he +steered his way between the slippery stones, and over the dangerous +fissures. He could see her now; some merciful jag in the rocks had +caught part of her dress, and arrested her headlong progress. The +momentary obstacle had enabled her, as she slipped into one of the awful +fissures that open into Coop Kernan Hole, to snatch with frantic hands +at the slimy rock, her feet clinging desperately to the narrow slippery +ledge. + +'John, save me!' she screamed, as she felt herself slipping into the +black abyss beneath. + +'John!' + +John Heriot heard her. + +'Yes, I am coming, Mildred; hold on--hold on, another minute.' The drops +of mortal agony stood on his brow as he saw her awful peril, but he +dared not, for both their sakes, venture on reckless haste; already he +had slipped more than once, but had recovered himself. It seemed minutes +to both of them before Polly saw him kneeling on one knee beside the +hole, his feet hanging over the water. + +'Hush! do not struggle so, Mildred,' he pleaded, as he got his arm with +difficulty round her, and she clung to him almost frantically; the poor +soul had become delirious from the shock, and thought she was being +dashed to pieces; her face elongated and sharpened with terror, as she +sank half fainting against his shoulder. The weight on his arm was +terrible. + +'Good Heavens! what can I do?' he ejaculated, as he felt his strength +insufficient to lift her. His position was painful in the extreme; his +knee was slipping under him; and the dripping serge dress, heavy with +water, increased the strain on the left arm; a false movement, the +slightest change of posture, and they must both have gone. He remembered +how he had heard it said that Coop Kernan Hole was of unknown depth +under the bridge; the dark sluggish pool lay black and terrible between +the rocks; if she slipped from his hold into that cruel water, he knew +he could not save her, for he had ever been accounted a poor swimmer, +and yet her dead-weight was already numbing his arm. + +'Mildred, if you faint we must both die!' he cried in despair. + +His voice seemed to rouse her; some instinct of preservation prompted +her to renewed effort; and as he held her more firmly, she managed to +get one hand round his neck--the other still clutched at the rock; and +as Polly's cries for help reached a navvy working at some distance, she +saw Dr. Heriot slowly and painfully lift Mildred over the edge of the +rock. + +'Thank God!' he panted, and then he could say no more; but as he felt +the agonised shuddering run through Mildred's frame, as, unconscious of +her safety, she still clung to him, he half-pityingly and +half-caressingly put back the unbound hair from the pale face, as he +would have done to a child. + +But he looked almost as ghastly as Mildred did, when, aided by the +navvy's strong arms, they lifted her over the huge masses of rocks and +up the steep steps. + +Polly ran to meet them; her lover's pale and disordered appearance +alarmed her almost as much as Mildred's did. + +'Oh, Heriot!' cried the young girl, 'you are hurt; I am sure you are +hurt.' + +'A strain, nothing else,' he returned, quickly; 'run on, dear Polly, and +open the door for us. Mrs. Sowerby must take us in for a little while.' + +When Mildred perfectly recovered consciousness, she was lying on the +old-fashioned couch in Mrs. Sowerby's best room; but she was utterly +spent and broken, and could do nothing for a little while but weep +hysterically. + +Polly lent over her, raining tears on her hands. + +'Oh, Aunt Milly,' sobbed the faithful little creature, 'what should we +have done if we had lost you? Darling--darling, how dreadful it would +have been.' + +'I wished to die,' murmured Mildred, half to herself; 'but I never knew +how terrible death could be. Oh, how sinful--how ungrateful I have +been.' And she covered her face with her hands. + +'Oh, Heriot; ask her not to cry so,' pleaded poor Polly. 'I have never +seen her cry before, never--and it hurts me so.' + +'It will do her good,' he returned, hastily; but he went and stood by +the window, until Polly joined him. + +'She is better now,' she said, timidly glancing up into his absorbed +face. + +Upon that he turned round. + +'Then we must get her home, that she may change her wet things as soon +as possible. Do you feel as though you can move?' he continued, in his +ordinary manner, though perhaps it was a trifle grave. 'You are terribly +bruised, I fear, but I trust not otherwise injured.' + +She looked up a little surprised at the calmness of his tone, and then +involuntarily she stretched out her hands to him-- + +'Let me thank you first--you have saved my life,' she whispered. + +'No,' he returned, quietly. 'It is true your disobedience placed us both +in jeopardy; but it was your obedience at the last that really saved +your life. If you had fainted, you must inevitably have been lost. I +could not have supported you much longer in my cramped position.' + +'Your arm--did I hurt it?' she asked, anxiously, noticing an expression +of pain pass over his face. + +'I daresay I have strained it slightly,' he answered, indifferently; +'but it does not matter. The question is, do you think you can bear to +be moved?' + +'Oh, I can walk. I am better now,' she replied, colouring slightly. + +His coolness disappointed her; she was longing to thank him with the +full fervour of a grateful heart. It was sweet, it was good in spite of +everything to receive her life back through his hands. Never--never +would she dare to repine again, or murmur at the lot Providence had +appointed her; so much had the dark lesson of Coop Kernan Hole taught +her. + +'Well, what is it?' he asked, reading but too truly the varying +expressions of her eloquent face. + +'If you will only let me thank you,' she faltered, 'I shall never forget +this hour to my dying day.' + +'Neither shall I,' he returned, abruptly, as he wrapped her up in his +dry plaid and assisted her to rise. His manner was as kind and +considerate as ever during their short drive, but Mildred felt as though +his reserve were imposing some barrier on her. + +Consternation prevailed in the vicarage at the news of Mildred's danger. +Olive, who seldom shed tears, became pale and voiceless with emotion, +while Mr. Lambert pressed his sister to his heart with a whispered +thanksgiving that was audible to her alone. + +It was good for Mildred's sore heart to feel how ardently she was +beloved. A great flood of gratitude and contrition swept over her as she +lay, bruised and shaken, with her hand in Arnold's, looking at the dear +faces round her. 'It has come to me not in the still, small voice, but +in the storm,' she thought. 'He has brought me out of the deep waters to +serve Him more faithfully--to give a truer account of the life restored +to me.' + +The clear brightness of her eyes surprised Dr. Heriot as he came up to +her to take leave; they reminded him of the Mildred of old. 'You must +promise to sleep to-night. Some one must be with you--Olive or +Polly--you might get nervous alone,' he said, with his usual +thoughtfulness; but she shook her head. + +'I think I am cured of my nervousness for ever,' she returned, in a +voice that was very sweet. The soft smiling eyes haunted him. Had an +angel gone down and troubled the pool? What healing virtues had steeped +the dark waters that her shuddering feet had pressed? Could faith, +full-formed, spring from such parentage of deadly anguish and fear? +Mildred could have answered in the verse she loved so well-- + + 'He never smiled so sweet before + Save on the Sea of Sorrow, when the night + Was saddest on our heart. We followed him + At other times in sunshine. Summer days + And moonlight nights He led us over paths + Bordered with pleasant flowers; but when His steps + Were on the mighty waters, when we went + With trembling hearts through nights of pain and loss, + His smile was sweeter, and His love more dear; + And only Heaven is better than to walk + With Christ at midnight over moonless seas.' + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +DR. HERIOT'S MISTAKE + + 'In the cruel fire of sorrow + Cast thy heart, do not faint or wail; + Let thy hand be firm and steady, + Do not let thy spirit quail: + But wait till the trial is over, + And take thy heart again; + For as gold is tried by fire, + So a heart must be tried by pain!' + + Adelaide Anne Procter. + + +Mildred slept soundly that night in spite of her bruises. It was Dr. +Heriot who waked. + +What nightmare of oppression was on him? What light, scorching and +illuminating, was shining on him through the gloom? Was he losing his +senses?--had he dreamt it? Had he really heard it? 'John, save me, +John!' as of a woman in mortal anguish calling on her mate, as Margaret +had once--but once--called him, when a glimpse of the dark valley had +been vouchsafed her, and she had bidden him, with frenzied eye and +tongue, arrest her downward course: 'I cannot die--at least, not like +this--you must save me, John!' and that time he had saved her. + +And now he had heard it again, at the only time when conventionality +lays aside its decorous disguise, and the souls of men are bare to their +fellows--at the time of awful peril on the brink of a momentarily +expected death: so had she called to him, and so, with the sudden waking +response of his soul, he had answered her. + +He could see it all now. Never, to his dying hour, could he forget that +scene--the prostrate figure crashing among the rocks, as though to an +immediate and terrible death; the agonised struggle in the dark pit, the +white face pressed heavily like death to his shoulder, the long unbound +hair streaming across his arm; never before had he owned to himself that +this woman was fair, until he had put back the blinding hair with his +hand, as she clung to him in suffering helplessness. + +'I wished to die, but I never knew how terrible death could be,' he had +heard her whisper between her quivering lips; and the knowledge that her +secret was his had bidden him turn away his eyes from her--his own +suffused with tears. + +'Fool! blind fool that I was!' he groaned. 'Fool! never to guess how +dear she was until I saw death trying to snatch her from me; never to +know the reason why her presence inspired me with such comfort and such +rest! And I must needs call it friendship. Was it friendship that +brought me day after day with such a sore heart to minister to her +weakness?--was it only friendship and pity, and a generous wish to +succour her distress? + +'Oh, fool! miserable fool! for ever fated to destroy my own peace of +mind!' But we need not follow the bitter self-communing of that generous +spirit through that long night of doubt and pain from which he rose a +sadder and a better man. + +Alas! he had grasped the truth too late. The true woman, the true mate, +the very nature akin to his own, had been beside him all these years, +and he had not recognised her, blind in his pitiful worship of lesser +lights. + +And as he thought of the innocent girl who had pledged her faith to him, +he groaned again within himself. Polly was not less dear to him in the +misery that had befallen him, yet he knew, and shuddered at the +knowledge, that all unwittingly he had deceived himself and her; he +would love his child-wife dearly, he knew, but not as he could love a +woman like Mildred. + +'If she had been less reserved, less unapproachable in her gentle +dignity, it might have been better for both of us,' he said to himself. +'The saint has hidden the woman; one cannot embrace a halo!' and he +thought with sharp anguish how well this new phase of weakness had +become her. When she had claimed his indulgence for her wayward and +nervous fancies, he had felt even then a sort of pride that she should +appeal to him in her helplessness. + +But these were vain thoughts. It might have been better for both of them +if she were lying now under the dark waters of Coop Kernan Hole, her +angel soul in its native heaven. Yes, it might be far better; he did not +know--he had not Mildred's faith; for as long as they must dwell +together, and yet apart, in this mortal world, life could only be a +bitter thing for him; but not for that should he cease to struggle. + +'I have more than myself to consider,' he continued, as he rose and drew +back the curtain, and looked out on the rich harvest of the +sky-glittering sheaves of stars, countless worlds beyond worlds, +stretching out into immensity. 'God do so to me and more also if my +unkindness or fickleness cloud the clear mirror of that girlish soul. It +is better, far better, for me to suffer--ay, for her too--than to throw +off a responsibility at once so sacred and so pure.' + +How Mildred would have gloried in this generous victory if she had +witnessed it! The knowledge that the tardy blessing of his love had been +vouchsafed her, though too late and in vain, would have gladdened her +desolate heart, and the honour and glory of it would have decked her +lonely life, with infinite blossom. + +But now she could only worship his goodness from afar. None but Mildred +had ever rightly read him, or knew the unselfishness that was so deeply +ingrained in this man's nature. Loving and impulsive by nature, he had +patiently wooed and faithfully held to the woman who had scorned his +affection and provoked his forbearance; he had borne his wrecked +happiness, the daily spectacle of his degradation, with a resignation +that was almost sublime; he had comforted the poor sinner on her +deathbed with assurances of forgiveness that had sunk into her soul with +strange healing; when at last she had left him, he had buried his dead +out of his sight, covering with thick sods, and heaping the earth with +pious hands over the memory of her past sins. + +It was this unselfishness that had first taught him to feel tenderly to +the poor orphan; he had schemed out of pure benevolence to make her his +wife, until the generous fancy had grown dear to him, and he had +believed his own happiness involved in it. + +And now that it had resulted in a bitter awakening to himself and +disappointment to another, no possibility of eluding his fate ever came +into his mind. Polly already belonged to him; she was his, made his own +by a distinct and plighted troth; he could no more put her away from him +than he would have turned away the half-frozen robin that sought refuge +from the inclement storm. Mildred had betrayed her love too late; it was +his lot to rescue her from death, but not to bid her welcome to a heart +that should in all honour belong to another. True, it was a trial most +strange and bitter--an ordeal from which flesh and blood might well +shrink; but long before this he had looked into the burning fiery +furnace of affliction, and he knew, as such men know, that though he +might be cast therein bound and helpless, that even there the true heart +could discern the form most like unto the Son of God. + +It was with some such feeling as this that he lingered by Polly's side, +as though to gain a minute's strength before he should be ushered into +Mildred's presence. + +'How tired you look, Heriot,' she said, as he stood beside her; the word +had involuntarily slipped from her in her gladness yesterday, and as she +timidly used it again his lips touched her brow in token of his thanks. + +'We are improving, Heartsease. I suppose you begin to find out that I am +not as formidable as I look--that Dr. Heriot had a very chilling sound, +it made me feel fifty at least.' + +'I think you are getting younger, or I am getting older,' observed +Polly, quaintly; 'to be sure you look very pale this morning, and your +forehead is dreadfully wrinkled. I am afraid your arm has been troubling +you.' + +'Well, it has been pretty bad,' he returned, evasively; 'one does not +get over a strain so easily. But, now, how is Mildred?' + +The word escaped from him involuntarily, but he did not recall it. Polly +did not notice his slight confusion. + +'She is down in the drawing-room. I think she expects you,' she replied. +'Olive said she had a beautiful night, but of course the bruises are +very painful; one of her arms is quite blackened, she cannot bear it +touched.' + +'I will see what can be done,' was his answer. + +As he crossed the lobby his step was as firm as ever, his manner as +gravely kind as he stood by Mildred's side; the delicacy of her aspect +smote him with dull pain, but she smiled in her old way as she gave him +her left hand. + +'The other is so much bruised that I cannot bear the lightest touch,' +she said, drawing it out from her white shawl, and showing him the cruel +black marks; 'it is just like that to my shoulder.' + +He looked at it pityingly. + +'And yet you slept?' + +'As I have not slept for weeks; no terrible dreams haunted me, no grim +presentiments of evil fanned my pillow with black wing; you must have +exorcised the demon.' + +'That is well,' he returned, sitting down beside her, and trying to +speak with his old cheerfulness; 'reality has beaten off hypochondriacal +fancies. Coop Kernan Hole has proved a stern mentor.' + +'I trust I may never forget the lesson it has taught me,' she returned, +with a slight shudder at the remembrance, and then they were both silent +for a moment. 'Dr. Heriot,' she continued, presently, 'yesterday I +wanted to thank you--I ought rather to have craved your forgiveness.' + +He smiled at that; in spite of himself the old feeling of rest had +returned to him with her presence; her sweet looks, her patience, her +brave endurance of what he knew would be keen suffering to other women, +won the secret tribute of his admiration; he would lay aside his heavy +burden for this one hour, and enjoy this brief interval of peace. + +'I do not wonder that you refused my thanks,' she went on, earnestly; +'to think that my foolish act of disobedience should have placed your +life as well as mine in such deadly peril; indeed, you must assure me of +your forgiveness, or I shall never be happy again,' and Mildred's lip +trembled. + +He took the bruised hand in his, but so tenderly that she did not wince +at his touch; the blackened fingers lay on his palm as restfully as the +little bird he had once warmed in his hands one snowy day. How he loved +this woman who was suing to him with such sweet lips for +forgiveness;--the latent flame just kindled burned with an intensity +that surprised himself. + +'Ah!' she said, mistaking his silence, and looking up into his dark +face--and it looked strangely worn and harassed in the clear morning +light--'you do not answer, you think I am much to blame. I have tried +your patience too far--even yours!' + +'I was angry with you, certainly, when I saw you down on those rocks +jeopardising your precious life,' he replied, slowly. 'Such +foolhardiness was unlike you, and I had reserved certain vials of wrath +at my disposal--but now----' + +He finished with his luminous smile. + +'You think I have been punished sufficiently?' + +'Yes, first stoned and then half submerged. I forgave you directly you +called on me for help,' he returned, making believe to jest, but +watching her intently all the time. Would she understand his vague +allusion? But Mildred, unconscious that she had betrayed herself, only +looked relieved. + +'Besides, there can be no question of forgiveness between friends, and +whatever happens we are friends always,' relinquishing her hand a little +abruptly. + +He rose soon after that. + +Mildred was uneasy; he was evidently suffering severely from his arm, +but he continued to evade her anxious inquiries, assuring her that it +was nothing to the pain of her bruises, and that a wakeful night, more +or less, mattered little to him. + +But as he went out of the room, he told himself that these interviews +were perilously sweet, and must be avoided at all hazards; either he +must wound her with his coldness, or his tenderness would inevitably +betray itself in some unguarded look or word. Twice, already, had her +name lingered on his tongue, and more than one awkward pause had brought +her clear glances questioning to his face. + +What right had he to hold the poor blackened hand in his for more than a +moment? But the sweet soul had taken it all so naturally; her colour had +never varied; possibly her great deliverance had swallowed all lesser +feelings for the time; the man she loved had become her preserver, and +this knowledge was so precious to her that it had lifted her out of her +deep despondency. + +But as he set forth to his work, he owned within himself that such +things must not be--it were a stain on his integrity to suffer it; from +the first of Mildred's coming their intercourse had been free and +unrestrained, but for the future he would time his visits when the other +members of the family would be present, or, better still, he would keep +Polly by his side, trusting that the presence of his young betrothed +would give him the strength he needed. + +Mildred did not seem to notice the change, it was effected so skilfully; +she was always better pleased when Olive or Polly was there--it diverted +Dr. Heriot's attention from herself, and caused her less embarrassment; +her battered frame was in sore need of rest, but with her usual +unselfishness, she resumed some of her old duties as soon as possible, +that Olive might not feel overburdened. + +'It seems as though I have been idle for such a long time,' she said, in +answer to Dr. Heriot's deprecating glance at the mending beside her; +'Olive has no time now, and these things are more troublesome to her +than to most people. To-morrow I mean to take to housekeeping again, for +Polly feels herself quite unable to manage Nan.' + +Dr. Heriot shook his head, but he did not directly forbid the +experiment. He knew that to a person of Mildred's active habits, +anything approaching to indolence was a positive crime; it was better +for them both that she should assert that she was well, and that he +should be free to relax his vigilance; he could still watch over her, +and interfere when it became necessary to do so. + +Mildred had reason to be thankful that he did not oppose her exertions, +for before long fresh work came to her. + +The very morning after Dr. Heriot had withdrawn his silent protest, a +letter in a strange handwriting was laid beside Mildred's +breakfast-plate; the postmark was London, and she opened it in some +little surprise; but Polly, who was watching her, noticed that she +turned pale over the contents. + +'Is it about Roy?' she whispered; and Mildred started. + +'Yes, he has been ill,' and she looked at her brother doubtfully; but he +stretched out his hand for the letter, and read it in silence. + +Polly watched them anxiously. + +'He is not very ill, Aunt Milly?' + +'Not now; but I greatly fear he has been so. Mrs. Madison writes that it +was a neglected cold, with a sharp attack of inflammation, but that the +inflammation has subsided; he is terribly weak, and needs nursing, and +the doctor insists that his friends should be informed.' + +'But Dad Fabian is with him?' + +'No, he is quite alone. The strangest part is that he would not suffer +her to write to us. I suppose he dreaded our alarm.' + +'It was wrong--very wrong,' groaned Mr. Lambert; 'his brother not with +him, and he away from us all that distance; Mildred, my dear, you must +go to him without delay.' + +Mildred smiled faintly; she thought her strength was small for such a +long journey, but she did not say so. Anxiety for his son had driven the +remembrance of her accident from his mind; a slight attack of rheumatic +gout, to which he had been subject of late years, prevented him from +undertaking the journey as he wished. + +'You will go, my dear, will you not?' he pleaded, anxiously. + +'If Aunt Milly goes, I must go to take care of her,' broke in Polly. + +Her face was pale, her eyes dilated with excitement. Olive looked on +wistfully, but said nothing; it was never her way to thrust herself +forward on any occasion, and however much she wished to help Mildred in +nursing Roy, she did not drop a hint to the effect; but Mildred was not +slow to interpret the wistfulness. + +'It is Olive's place to nurse her brother,' she said, with a trace of +reproof in her voice; but though Polly grew crimson she still persisted. + +I did not mean that--you know I did not, Aunt Milly!' a little +indignantly. 'I only thought I could wait on you, and save you trouble, +and then when he was better I could----' but her lip quivered, and when +the others looked up, expecting her to finish her sentence, she suddenly +and most unexpectedly burst into tears, and left the room. + +Olive followed Mildred when she rose from the breakfast-table. + +'Aunt Milly, do let her go. Poor Polly! she looks so miserable.' + +'It is not to be thought of for a moment,' returned Mildred, with +unusual decision; 'if no one but Polly can accompany me, I shall go +alone.' + +'But Polly is so fond of Roy,' pleaded Olive; timid with regard to +herself, she could persist with more boldness on another's behalf. 'Roy +would not care for me half so much as he would for her; when he had that +feverish cold last year, no one seemed to please him but Polly. Do let +her go, Aunt Milly,' continued the generous-hearted girl. 'I do not mind +being left. If Roy is worse I could come to you,' and Olive spoke with +the curious choke in her voice that showed strong emotion. + +Mildred looked touched, but she remained firm. Little did Olive guess +her reasons. + +'I could not allow it for one moment, Olive. I think,' hesitating a +little, as though sure of inflicting pain, 'that I ought to go alone, +unless Roy is very ill. I do not see how your father is to be left; he +might have another attack, and Richard is not here.' + +'I forgot papa,' in a conscience-stricken tone. 'I am always forgetting +something.' + +'Yes, and yourself in the bargain,' smiling at her earnest +self-depreciation. + +'No, please don't laugh, Aunt Milly, it was dreadfully careless of +me--what should we all do without you to remind us of things? Of course +papa must be my first thought, unless--unless dear Rex is very ill,' and +a flush of pain passed over Olive's sallow face. + +Mildred melted over this fresh instance of Olive's unselfish goodness; +she wrapped her arms fondly round the girl. + +'Dear Olive, this is so good of you!' + +'No, it is only my duty,' but the tears started to her eyes. + +'If I did not think it were, I would not have proposed it,' she +returned, reluctantly; 'but you know how little care your father takes +of himself, and then he will fret so about Roy when Richard is away. I +never like to leave him.' + +'Do not say any more, Aunt Milly; nothing but real positive danger to +Roy would induce me to leave him.' + +'No, I knew I could trust you,' drawing a relieved breath; 'but, indeed, +I have no such fear for Rex. Mrs. Madison says it was only a slight +attack of inflammation, and that it has quite subsided. He will be +dreadfully weak, of course, and that is why the doctor has sent for us; +he will want weeks of nursing.' + +'And you will not take Polly or Chriss. Remember how far from strong you +are, and Rex is so exacting when he is ill.' + +'Chriss would be no use to me, and Polly's place is here,' was Mildred's +quiet answer as she went on with her preparations for the next day's +journey; but she little knew of the tenacity with which Polly clave to +her purpose. + +When Dr. Heriot came in that afternoon for his last professional chat +with Mildred, he found her looking open-eyed and anxious in the midst of +business, reading out a list for Olive, who was writing patiently from +her dictation; Polly was crouched up by the fire doing nothing; she had +not spoken to any one since the morning; she hardly raised her head when +he came in. + +Mildred explained the reason of their unusual bustle in her clear, +succinct way. Roy was ill, how ill she could not say. Mr. Lambert had +had a touch of gout last night, and dared not run the risk of a journey +just now. Olive must stop with her father, at least for the present; and +as Chriss was too young to be of the least possible use, she was going +alone. Polly's name was not mentioned. Dr. Heriot looked blank at the +tidings. + +'Alone, and in your state of health! why, where is Polly? she is a +capital nurse; she is worth a score of others; she will keep up your +spirits, save you fatigue, and cheer up Roy in his convalescence.' + +'You cannot spare her; Polly's place is here,' replied Mildred, +nervously; but to her surprise Polly interrupted her. + +'That is not the reason, Aunt Milly.' + +'My dear Polly!' exclaimed Dr. Heriot, amazed at the contradiction. + +'No, it is not, and she knows it,' returned the girl, excitedly; 'ask +her, Heriot; look at her; that is not the reason she will not suffer me +to go to Roy.' + +Mildred turned her burning face bravely on the two. + +'Whatever reasons I have, Polly knows me well enough to respect them,' +she said, with dignity; 'it is far better for Roy that his aunt or his +sister should be with him. Polly ought to know that her place is beside +you.' + +'Aunt Milly, how dare you speak so,' cried the girl, hotly, 'as though +Roy were not my own--own brother. Have we not cared for each other ever +since I came here a lonely stranger; do you think he will get better if +he is fretting, and knows why you have left me behind; when he was ill +in the summer, would he have any one to wait on him but me?' + +'Oh, Polly,' began Mildred, sorrowfully, for the girl's petulance and +obstinacy were new to her; but Dr. Heriot stopped her. + +'Let the child speak,' he said, quietly; 'she has never been perverse to +you before; she has something on her mind, or she would not talk so.' + +The kind voice, the unexpected sympathy, touched Polly's sore heart; and +as he held out his hand to her, she crept out of her dark corner. He +drew her gently to his side. + +'Now, Polly, what is it? there is something here that I do not +understand--out with it like a brave lassie.' + +But she hung her head. + +'Not now, not here, before the others,' she whispered, and with that he +rose from his seat, but he still kept hold of her hand. + +'Polly is going to make a clean breast of it; I am to hear her +confession,' he said, with a cheerfulness that reassured Mildred. 'There +is no time like the present. I mean to bring her back by and by, and +then we will make our apologies together.' + +Mildred sighed as the door closed after them; she would fain have known +what passed between them; her heart grew heavy with foreboding as time +elapsed and they did not make their appearance. When her business was +finished, and Olive had left her, she sat for more than half an hour +with her eyes fixed on the door, feeling as though she could bear the +suspense no longer. + +She started painfully when the valves unclosed. + +'We have been longer than I expected,' began Dr. Heriot. + +His face was grave, and Mildred fancied his eyes looked troubled. Polly +had been crying. + +'It was a rambling confession, and one difficult to understand,' he +continued, keeping the girl near him, and Mildred noticed she leant her +face caressingly against his coat-sleeve, as she stood there; 'and it +goes back to the day of our picnic at Hillbeck.' + +Mildred moved uneasily; there was something reproachful in his glance +directed towards herself; she averted her eyes, and he went on-- + +'It seems you were all agreed in keeping me in the dark; you had your +reasons, of course, but it appears to me as though I ought to have been +the first to hear of Roy's visit,' and there was a marked emphasis in +his words that made Mildred still more uncomfortable. 'I do not wish to +blame you; you acted for the best, of course, and I own the case a +difficult one; it is only a pity that my little girl should have +considered it her duty to keep anything from me.' + +'I told him it was Roy's secret, not mine,' murmured Polly, and he +placed his hand kindly on her head. + +'I do not see how she could have acted otherwise,' returned Mildred, +rather indistinctly. + +'No, I am more inclined to blame her advisers than herself,' was the +somewhat cool response; 'mysteries are bad things between engaged +people. Polly kept a copy of her letter to show me, but she never found +courage to do so until to-night, and yet she is quite aware what are +Roy's feelings towards her.' + +Mildred's voice had a sound of dismay in it-- + +'Oh, Polly! then you have deceived me too.' + +'You have no reason to say so,' returned the girl, proudly, but her +heart swelled over her words; 'it was that--that letter, and your +silence, that told me, Aunt Milly; but I could not--it was not possible +to say it either to you or to Dr. Heriot.' + +'You see it was hard for her, poor child,' was his indulgent comment; +'but you might have helped her; you might have told me yourself, Miss +Lambert.' + +But Mildred repelled the accusation firmly. + +'It was no business of yours, Dr. Heriot, or Polly's either, that Roy +loved her. Richard and I were right to guard it; it was his own secret, +his own trouble. Polly would never have known but for her own +wilfulness.' + +'Yes I should, Aunt Milly; I should have found it out from his silence,' +returned Polly, with downcast eyes. 'I could not forget his changed +looks; they troubled me more than you know. I puzzled myself over them +till I was dizzy. I felt heart-broken when I found it out, but I could +not have told Heriot.' + +'It would have been better for us both if you had,' he replied, calmly; +but he uttered no further reproach, only there was a keen troubled look +in his eyes, as he gazed at the girl's upturned face, as though he +suddenly dreaded the loss of something dear to him. + +'Heartsease, it would have been better for you and me.' + +'Heriot, what do you mean?' she whispered, vehemently; 'surely you did +not misunderstand me; you could not doubt the sincerity of my words, my +love?' + +'Neither the one nor the other,' was the quiet reply; 'do I not know my +Polly? could I not trust that guileless integrity as I would my own? You +need not fear my misunderstanding you; I know you but too well.' + +'Are you sure that you do?' clinging to him more closely. + +'Am I sure that I am alive? No, Polly, I do not doubt you; when you tell +me that you love Roy as though he were your own brother, that you are +only sorry for him, and long to comfort him, I believe you. I am as sure +that you speak the truth as you know it.' + +'And you will trust me?' stroking the coat-sleeve as she spoke. + +'Have I not told you so?' reproachfully; 'am I a tyrant to keep you in +durance vile, when your adopted brother lies dangerously ill, and you +assure me of your power to minister to him? Miss Lambert, it is by my +own wish that Polly goes with you to London; she thinks Roy will not get +well unless he sees her again.' + +Mildred started. Polly had kept her thoughts so much to herself lately +that she had not understood how much was passing in her mind; did she +really believe that her influence was so great over Roy, that her +persuasion would recall him from the brink of the grave? Could Dr. +Heriot credit such a supposition? was not the risk a daring one? He +could not be so sure of himself and her; but looking up, as these +thoughts passed through her mind, she encountered such a singular glance +from Dr. Heriot that her colour involuntarily rose; it told her he +understood her scruples, but that his motives were fixed, inscrutable; +it forbade questioning, and urged compliance with his wishes, and after +that there was nothing more to be said. + +But in the course of the evening Polly volunteered still further +information-- + +'You know he is going with us himself,' she said, as she followed +Mildred into her room to assist in the packing. + +Mildred very nearly dropped the armful of things she was carrying, a +pile of Roy's shirts she had been mending; she faced round on Polly with +unusual energy-- + +'Who is going with us? Not Dr. Heriot?' + +'Yes; did he not tell you so? I heard him speaking to Mr. Lambert and +saying that you were not fit to undertake such a long journey by +yourself; he did not count me, as he knew I should lose my head in the +bustle; very rude of him, was it not? and then he told Mr. Lambert that +he should see Roy and bring him back a report. Oh, I am so glad he is +coming,' speaking more to herself than Mildred; 'how good, how good he +is.' + +Mildred did not answer; but after supper that night, when Dr. Heriot had +again joined them, she asked if he had really made up his mind to +accompany them. + +'You did not tell me of your intention,' she said, a little nettled at +his reserve with her. + +'No; I was afraid of your raising objections and raising all sorts of +useless arguments; regret that I should take so much trouble, and so +forth,' trying to turn it off with a jest. + +'Are you going on Roy's account?' abruptly. + +'Well, not wholly. Of course his medical man's report will be +sufficient; but all the same it will be a relief to his father's mind.' + +'I suppose you are afraid to trust Polly with me then? but indeed I will +take care of her; there is no need for you to undergo such a fatiguing +journey,' went on Mildred, pretending to misunderstand him, but anxious +if possible to turn him from his purpose. + +But Dr. Heriot's cool amused survey baffled her. + +'A man has a right to his own reasons, I suppose? Perhaps I think one of +my patients is hardly able to look after herself just yet.' + +'Oh, Dr. Heriot!' hardly able to believe it though from his own lips; +'this is so like you--so like your usual thoughtfulness; but indeed it +is not necessary; Polly will take care of me.' + +'I daresay she will,' with a glint of humour in his eyes; 'but all the +same you must put up with my company.' + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +THE COTTAGE AT FROGNAL + + 'Whose soft voice + Should be the sweetest music to his ear.'--Bethune. + + +The journey was accomplished with less difficulty and fatigue than +Mildred had dared to expect. + +Dr. Heriot's attentions were undemonstrative but unceasing. For a +greater part of the way Mildred lay back amongst her snug wrappings, +talking little, but enjoying to the full the novelty of being the object +of so much care and thought. 'He is kind to everybody, and now he has +taken all this trouble for me,' she said to herself; 'it is so like +him--so like his goodness.' + +They were a very quiet party. Dr. Heriot was unusually silent, and Polly +sat watching the scenery and flying milestones with half-dreamy +absorption. When darkness came on, she nestled down by Mildred's side. +From his corner of the carriage, Dr. Heriot secretly peered at the faces +before him, under the guttering oil-lamp. Mildred's eyes had closed at +last from weariness; her thin cheek was pressed on the dark cushion. In +spite of the worn lines, the outline of the face struck him as strangely +fair; a fine nature was written there in indelible characters; even in +the abandonment of utter weariness, the mouth had not relaxed its firm +sweet curve; a chastened will had gradually smoothed the furrows from +the brow; it was as smooth and open as a sleeping child, and yet youth +had no part there; its tints and roundness had long ago fled. + +How had it been that Polly's piquant charms had blinded him? As he +looked at her now, half-lovingly, half-sadly, he owned that she could +not be otherwise than pretty in his eyes, and yet the illusion was +dispelled; but even as the thought passed through his mind, Polly's dark +eyes unclosed. + +'Are we near London? oh, how tired I am!' she said, with a weary, +petulant sigh. 'I cannot sleep like Aunt Milly; and the darkness and the +swinging make me giddy. One can only see great blanks of mist and +rushing walls, and red eyes blinking everywhere.' + +Dr. Heriot smiled over the girl's discontent. 'You will see the lights +of the station in another ten minutes. Poor little Heartsease. You are +tired and cold and anxious, and we have still a long drive before us.' + +'It has not been so long after all,' observed Mildred, cheerfully. She +did not feel cold or particularly tired; pleasant dreams had come to +her; some thoughtful hand had drawn the fur-lined rug round her as she +slept. As they jolted out of the light station and into the dark Euston +Road beyond, she sat thoughtful and silent, reviewing the work that lay +before her. + +It was late in the evening when the travellers reached the little +cottage at Frognal. Roy had taken a fancy to the place, and had migrated +thither the previous summer, in company with a young artist named +Dugald. + +It was a low, old-fashioned house, somewhat shabby-looking by daylight, +but standing back from the road, with a pleasant strip of garden lying +round it, and an invisible walk formed of stunted, prickly shrubs, which +had led its owner to give it the name of 'The Hollies.' + +Roy had fallen in love with the straggling lawn and mulberry trees, and +beds of old-fashioned flowers. He declared the peonies, hollyhocks, and +lupins, and small violet-and-yellow pansies, reminded him of +Castlesteads Vicarage; for it was well known that Mr. Delaware clave +with fondness to the flowers of his childhood, and was much given to +cultivate all manner of herbs, to be used medicinally by the poor of the +neighbourhood. + +A certain long, low room, with an out-of-the-way window, was declared to +have the north light, and to be just the thing for a studio, and was +shared conjointly by the young artists, who also took their frugal meals +together, and smoked their pipes in a dilapidated arbour overlooking the +mulberry-tree. + +Mildred knew that Herbert Dugald was at the present moment in Mentone, +called thither by the alarming illness of his father, and that his room +had been placed at Roy's disposal. The cottage was a large one, and she +thought there would be little difficulty in accommodating Polly and +herself; and as Mrs. Madison had no other lodgers, they could count on a +tolerable amount of quiet and comfort; and in spite of the quaintness +and homeliness of the arrangements, they found this to be the case. + +Dr. Heriot had telegraphed their probable arrival, so they were not +unexpected. Mrs. Madison, an artist's widow herself, welcomed them with +unfeigned delight; her pleasant, sensible Scotch face broadened with +smiles as she came forward to meet them. + +'Eh, he's better, poor lad, though I never thought to say it,' she said, +answering Mildred's anxious look. 'He would not let me write, as I +wished, for fear of alarming his father, he said; but as soon as the +letter was posted, he made me telegraph for his brother; he arrived last +evening.' + +'Richard!' ejaculated Mildred, feeling things were worse than even she +had expected; but at that moment Richard appeared, gently closing the +door behind him. + +'Hush! he knows you are here;--you, I mean, Aunt Milly,' perceiving +Polly now, with some surprise; 'but we must be very careful. Last night +I thought we should have lost him. Ah, Dr. John, how good of you to +bring them! Come in here; we expected you, you see, Aunt Milly,' and he +led them into poor Roy's sitting-room. + +There was a blazing fire in the studio; the white china tiles reflected +a pleasant glow and heat; the heavy draperies that veiled the +cross-lights looked snug and dark; tea was on the little round table; a +large old-fashioned couch stood, inviting, near. Richard took off +Mildred's bonnet and hung it on an empty easel; Polly's furs found a +place on a wonderfully carved oak-chest. + +There was all the usual lumber belonging to a studio. Richard, in an +interval of leisure, had indeed cleared away a heterogeneous rubbish of +pipes, boxing-gloves, and foils, but the upper part of the room was a +perfect chaos of portfolios, books, and musical instruments, the little +square piano literally groaned under the dusty records; still there was +a wide space of comfort round the tiled fireplace, where all manner of +nursery tales leaped into existence under the kindling flame, with just +enough confusion to be quaint and picturesque. + +Neither Mildred nor Polly found fault with the suit of armour and the +carved chair, that was good for everything but to sit upon; the plaster +busts and sham bronzes struck them as beautiful; the old red velvet +curtain had an imposing effect, as well as the shreds and scraps of +colour introduced everywhere. Roy's velvet coat and gold-tasselled +smoking-cap lay side by side with an old Venetian garment, stiff with +embroidery and dirt. Polly touched it caressingly as she passed. + +Mildred's eyes had noted all these surroundings while she sat down on +the couch where Roy had tossed for so many, many days, and let Richard +wait on her; but her anxious looks still mutely questioned him. + +'You shall go in and see him directly you are rested and have had some +tea,' said Richard, busily occupying himself with the little black +kettle. 'He heard your bell, and made a sign to me to come to you; he +has been wishing for you all night, poor fellow; but it was his own +fault, telegraphing to me instead.' + +'You look fagged, Cardie; and no wonder--it must have been dreadful for +you alone.' + +'Mrs. Madison was with me. I would not have been without her; she is a +capital nurse, whatever Rex may say. At one time I got alarmed; the pain +in the side increased, and the distressed breathing was painful to hear, +the pulse reaching to a great height. I fancied once or twice that he +was a little light-headed.' + +'Very probably,' returned Dr. Heriot, gravely, placing himself quietly +between Mildred and the fire, as she shielded her face from the flame. +'I cannot understand how such a state of things should be. I always +thought Roy's a tolerably sound constitution; nothing ever seemed to +give him cold.' + +'He has never been right since he was laid up with his foot,' replied +Richard, with a slight hesitation in his manner. 'He did foolish things, +Mrs. Madison told me: took long walks after painting-hours in the fog +and rain, and on more than one occasion forgot to change his wet things. +She noticed he had a cold and cough, and tried once or twice to dissuade +him from venturing out in the damp, but he only laughed at her +precautions. I am afraid he has been very reckless,' finished Richard, +with a sigh, which Dr. Heriot echoed. Alas! he understood too well the +cause of Roy's recklessness. + +Polly had been shrinking into a corner all this time, her cheeks paling +with every word; but now Dr. Heriot, without apparently noticing her +agitation, placed her in a great arm-chair beside the table, and +insisted that she should make tea for them all. + +'We have reason to be thankful that the inflammation has subsided,' he +said, gravely. 'From what Richard tells us he has certainly run a great +risk, but I must see him and judge for myself.' And as Richard looked +doubtfully at Mildred, he continued, decidedly, 'You need not fear that +my presence will harass or excite him, if he be as ill as you describe. +I will take the responsibility of the act on myself.' + +'It will be a great relief to my mind, I confess,' replied Richard, in a +low voice. 'I like Dr. Blenkinsop, but still a second opinion would be a +great satisfaction to all of us; and then, you know him so well.' + +'Are you sure it will not be a risk?' whispered Polly, as he stood +beside her. She slid a hot little hand into his as she spoke, 'Heriot, +are you sure it will be wise?' + +'Trust me,' was his sole reply; but the look that accompanied it might +well reassure her, it was so full of pity for her and Roy; it seemed to +say that he so perfectly understood her, that as far as in him lay he +would take care of them both. + +Poor Polly! she spent a forlorn half-hour when the others had left; +strange terrors oppressed her; a gnawing pain, for which she knew no +words, fevered and kept her restless. + +What if Roy should die? What if the dear companion of her thoughts, and +hopes, should suddenly be snatched from them in the first fervour of +youth? Would she ever cease to reproach herself that she had so +misunderstood him? Would not the consequences of his unhappy +recklessness (ah, they little knew how they stabbed her there) lie +heavily on her head, however innocent she might own herself? + +Perhaps in his boyish way he had wooed her, and she had failed to +comprehend his wooing. How many times he had told her that she was +dearer to him than Olive and Chriss, that she was the sunshine of his +home, that he cared for nothing unless Polly shared it; and she had +smiled happily over such evidence of his affection. + +Had she ever understood him? + +She remembered once that he had brought her some trinket that had +pleased his fancy, and insisted on her always wearing it for his sake, +and she had remonstrated with him on its costliness. + +'You must not spend all your money on me, Rex. It is not right,' she had +said to him more seriously than usual; 'you know how Aunt Milly objects +to extravagance; and then it will make the others jealous, you know. I +am not your sister--not your real sister, I mean.' + +'If you were, I should not have bought you this,' he had answered, +laughing, and clasping it with boyish force on her arm. 'Polly, what a +child you are! when will you be grown up?' and there was an expression +in his eyes that she had not understood. + +A hundred such remembrances seemed crowding upon her, Would other girls +have been as blind in her place? Would they not have more rightly +interpreted the loving looks and words that of late he had lavished upon +her? Doubtless in his own way he had been wooing her, but no such +thought had entered her mind, never till she had heard his bitter words, +'You are Heriot's now, Polly,' had she even vaguely comprehended his +meaning. + +And now she had gone near to break his heart and her own too, for if Roy +should die, she verily believed that hers would be broken by the sheer +weight of remorseful pity. Ah, if he would only live, and she might care +for him as though he were her own brother, how happy they might be +still, for Polly's heart was still loyal to her guardian. But this +suspense was not to be borne, and, unable to control her restlessness +any longer, Polly moved with cautious steps across the room, and peeped +fearfully into the dark passage. + +She knew exactly where Roy's room was. He had often described to her the +plan of the cottage. Across the passage was a little odd-shaped room, +full of cupboards, which was Mrs. Madison's sitting-room. The kitchen +was behind, and to the left there was a small garden-room where the +young men kept their boots, and all manner of miscellaneous rubbish, in +company with Mrs. Madison's geraniums and cases of stuffed birds. + +A few winding, crooked stairs led to Roy's room; Mr. Dugald's was a few +steps higher; beyond, there was a perfect nest of rooms hidden down a +dark passage; there were old musty cupboards everywhere; a clear scent +of dry lavender pervaded the upper regions; a swinging lamp burnt dimly +in a sort of alcove leading to Roy's room. As Polly groped her way +cautiously, a short, yapping sound was distinctly audible, and a little +black-and-tan terrier came from somewhere. + +Polly knelt down and coaxed the creature to approach: she knew it was +Sue, Roy's dog, whom he had rescued from drowning; but the animal only +whined and shivered, and went back to her lair, outside her master's +door. + +'Sue is more faithful to him than I,' thought the girl, with a sigh. The +studio seemed more cheerful than the dark, cold passage. Sue's repulse +had saddened her still more. When Dr. Heriot returned some time +afterwards, he found her curled up in the great arm-chair, with her face +buried in her hands, not crying, as he feared, but with pale cheeks and +wide distended eyes that he was troubled to see. + +'My poor Polly,' smoothing her hair caressingly. + +Polly sprang up. + +'Oh, Heriot, how long you have been. I have been so frightened; is +he--will he live?' the stammering lips not disguising the terrible +anxiety. + +'There is no doubt of it; but he has been very ill. No, my dear child, +you need not fear I shall misunderstand you,' as Polly tried to hide her +happy face, every feature quivering with the joyful relief. 'You cannot +be too thankful, too glad, for he has had a narrow escape. Aunt Milly +will have her hands full for some time.' + +'I thought if he died that it would be my fault,' she faltered, 'and +then I could not have borne it.' + +'Yes--yes--I know,' he returned, soothingly; 'but now this fear is +removed, you will be our Heartsease again, and cheer us all up. I cannot +bear to see your bright face clouded. You will be yourself again, Polly, +will you not?' + +'I will try,' she returned, lifting up her face to be kissed like a +child. She had never but once offered him the most timid caress, and +this maidenly reserve and shyness had been sweet to him; but now he told +himself it was different. Alas! he knew her better than she knew +herself, and there was sadness in his looks, as he gently bade her +good-night. She detained him with some surprise. 'Where are you going, +Heriot? you know there is plenty of room; Richard said so.' + +'I shall watch in Roy's room to-night,' he replied. 'Richard looks worn +out, and Aunt Milly must recruit after her journey. I shall not leave +till the middle of the day to-morrow, so we shall have plenty of time to +talk. You must rest now.' + +'Are you going away to-morrow?' repeated Polly, looking blank. 'I--I had +hoped you would stay.' + +'My child, that would be impossible; but Richard will remain for a few +days longer. I will promise to come back as soon as I can.' + +'But--but if you leave me--oh, you must not leave me, Heriot,' returned +the girl, with sudden inexplicable emotion; 'what shall I do without +you?' + +'Have I grown so necessary to you all at once?' he returned, and there +was an accent of reproach in his voice. 'Nay, Polly, this is not like +your sensible little self; you know I must go back to my patients.' + +'Yes, I know; but all the same I cannot bear to let you go; promise me +that you will come back soon--very soon--before Roy gets much better.' + +'I will not leave you longer than I can help,' he replied, earnestly, +distressed at her evident pain at losing him, but steadfast in his +purpose to leave her unfettered by his presence. 'Now, sweet one, you +must not detain me any longer, as to-night I am Roy's nurse,' and with +that she let him leave her. + +There was a bright fire in the room where Mildred and she were to sleep. +When Mrs. Madison had lighted the tall candle-sticks on the mantelpiece, +and left her to finish her unpacking, Polly tried to amuse herself by +imagining what Olive would think of it all. + +It was a long, low room, with a corner cut off. All the rooms at The +Hollies were low and oddly shaped, but the great four-post bed, with the +moreen hangings, half filled it. + +As far as curiosities went, it might have resembled either the upper +half of a pawnbroker's window, or a medięval corner in some shop in +Wardour Street--such a medley of odds and ends were never found in one +room. A great, black, carved wardrobe, which Roy was much given to rave +about in his letters home, occupied one side; two or three +spindle-legged and much dilapidated chairs, dating from Queen Anne's +time, with an oaken chest, filled up all available space; but wardrobe, +mantelpiece, and even washstand, served as receptacles for the more +ornamental objects. + +Peacocks' feathers and an Indian canoe were suspended over the dim +little oblong glass. Underneath, a Japanese idol smiled fiendishly; the +five senses, and sundry china shepherdesses, danced round him like +wood-nymphs round a satyr; a teapot, a hunting-watch, and an emu's egg +garnished the toilet-table; over which hung a sampler, worked by Mrs. +Madison's grandmother; two little girls in wide sashes, with a +long-eared dog, simpered in wool-work; a portrait of some Madison +deceased, in a short-waisted tartan satin, and a velvet hat and +feathers, hung over them. + +The face attracted Polly in spite of the grotesque dress and ridiculous +headgear--the feathers would have enriched a hearse; under the funeral +plumes smiled a face still young and pleasant--it gave one the +impression of a fresh healthy nature; the ruddy cheeks and buxom arms, +with plenty of soft muscle, would have become a dairymaid. + +'I wonder,' mused the girl, with a sort of sorrowful humour, 'who this +Clarice was--Mrs. Madison's grandmother or great-grandmother most +likely, for of course she married--that broad, smiling face could not +belong to an old maid; she was some squire or farmer's wife most likely, +and he bought her that hat in London when they went up to see the Green +Parks, and St. James's, and Greenwich Hospital, and Vauxhall,--she had a +double chin, and got dreadfully stout, I know, before she was forty. And +I wonder,' she continued, with unconscious pathos, 'if this Clarice +liked the squire, or farmer, or whatever he may be, as I like Heriot. Or +if, when she was young, she had an adopted brother who gave her pain; +she looks as though she never knew what it was to be unhappy or sorry +about anything.' + +Polly's fanciful musings were broken presently by Mildred's entrance; +she accosted the girl cheerfully, but there was no mistaking her pale, +harassed looks. + +'It is nearly twelve, you ought not to have waited for me, my dear; +there was so much to do--and then Richard kept me.' + +'Where is Richard?' asked Polly, abruptly. + +'He has gone to bed; he is to have Mr. Dugald's room. Dr. Heriot is +sitting up with Roy.' + +'Yes, I know. Oh, Aunt Milly, he says there is no doubt of his living; +the inflammation has subsided, and with care he has every hope of him.' + +'Thank God! He will tell his father so; we none of us knew of his danger +till it was past, and so we were saved Richard's terrible suspense; he +has been telling me about it. I never saw him more cut up about +anything--it was a sharper attack than we believed.' + +'Could he speak to you, Aunt Milly?' + +'Only a word or two, and those hardly audible; the breathing is still so +oppressed that we dare not let him try--but he made me a sign to kiss +him, and once he took hold of my hand; he likes to see us there.' + +'He did not mind Dr. Heriot, then?' and Polly turned to the fire to hide +her sudden flush, but Mildred did not notice it. + +'He seemed a little agitated, I thought, but Dr. Heriot soon succeeded +in calming him; he managed beautifully. I am sure Roy likes having him, +though once or twice he looked pained--at least, I fancied so; but you +have no idea what Dr. Heriot is in a sickroom,' and Mildred paused in +some emotion. + +She felt it was impossible to describe to Polly the skilful tenderness +with which he had tended Roy; the pleasant cordiality which had evaded +awkwardness, the exquisite sympathy that dealt only with present +suffering; no, it could only be stored sacredly in her memory, as a +thing never to be forgotten. + +The girl drooped her head as Mildred spoke. + +'I am finding out more every day what he is, but one will never come to +the bottom of his goodness,' she said, humbly. 'Aunt Milly, I feel more +and more how unworthy I am of him,' and she rested her head against +Mildred and wept. + +There was a weary ring in Mildred's voice as she answered her. + +'He would not like to hear you speak so despairingly of his choice; you +must make yourself worthy of him, dear Polly.' + +'I will try--I do try, till I get heart-sick over my failures. I know +when he is disappointed, or thinks me silly; he gives me one of his +quiet looks that seem to read one through and through, and then all my +courage goes. I do so long to tell him sometimes that he must be +satisfied with me just as I am, that I shall never get wiser or better, +that I shall always be Polly, and nothing more.' + +'Only his precious little Heartsease!' + +'No,' she returned, sighing, 'I fear that has gone too. I feel so sore +and unhappy about all this. Does he--does Roy know I am here?' + +'No, no, not yet; he is hardly strong enough to bear any excitement. It +will be very dull for you, my child, for you will not even have my +company.' + +'Oh, I shall not mind it--not much, I mean,' returned Polly, stoutly. + +But, nevertheless, her heart sank at the prospect before her; she would +not see him perhaps for weeks, she would only see Mildred by snatches, +she would be debarred from Dr. Heriot's society; it was a dreary thought +for the affectionate girl, but her resolution did not falter, things +would look brighter by the morning light as Mildred told her, and she +fell asleep, planning occupation for her solitary days. + +Dr. Heriot's watch had been a satisfactory one, and he was able to +report favourably of the invalid. Roy still suffered greatly from the +accelerated and oppressed breathing and distressing cough, but the +restlessness and fever had abated, and towards morning he had enjoyed +some refreshing sleep, and he was able to leave him more comfortably to +Mildred and Richard. + +He took Polly for a long walk after breakfast, which greatly brightened +the girl's spirits, after which Richard and he had a long talk while +pacing the lawn under the mulberry trees; both of them looked somewhat +pale and excited when they came in, and Richard especially seemed deeply +moved. + +Polly moped somewhat after Dr. Heriot's departure, but Richard was very +kind to her, and gave her all his leisure time; but he was obliged to +return to Oxford before many days were over. + +Polly had need of all her courage then, but she bore her solitude +bravely, and resorted to many ingenious experiments to fill up the hours +that hung so heavily on her hands. She wrote daily letters to Olive and +Dr. Heriot, kept the studio in dainty order, gathered little inviting +bouquets for the sickroom, and helped Mrs. Madison to concoct invalid +messes. + +By and by, as she grew more skilful, all Roy's food was dressed by her +hands. Polly would arrange the tray with fastidious taste, and carry it +up herself to the alcove in defiance of all Mildred's warnings. + +'I will step so lightly that he cannot possibly recognise my footsteps, +and I always wear velvet slippers now,' she said, pleadingly; and +Mildred, not liking to damp the girl's innocent pleasure, withdrew the +remonstrance in spite of her better judgment. + +Dr. Heriot had strictly prohibited Polly's visits to the sickroom for +the present, as he feared the consequences of any great excitement in +Roy's weakened condition. Polly would stand listening to the low weak +tones, speaking a word or two at intervals, and Mildred's cheerful voice +answering him; now and then the terrible cough seemed to shatter him, +and there would be long deathlike silences; when Polly could bear it no +longer, she would put on her hat, coaxing Sue to follow her, and take +long walks down the Finchley Road or over Hampstead Heath. + +There was a little stile near The Hollies where she loved to linger; +below her lay the fields and the long, dusty road; all manner of lights +gleamed through the twilight, the dark lane lay behind her; passers-by +marvelled at the girl standing there in her soft furs with the dog lying +at her feet; the air was full of warm dampness, a misty moon hung over +the leafless trees. + +'I wonder what Heriot is doing,' she would say to herself; 'his letters +are beautiful--just what I expected; they refresh me to read them; how +can he care for mine in return, as he says he does! Roy liked them, but +then----' + +Here Polly broke off with a shiver, and Sue growled at a dark figure +coming up the field-path. + +'Come, Sue, your master will want his tea,' cried the girl, waking up +from her vague musings, 'and no one but Polly shall get it for him. Aunt +Milly says he always praises Mrs. Madison's cookery;' and she quickened +her steps with a little laugh. + +Polly was only just in time; before her preparations were completed the +bell rang in the sickroom. + +'There, it is ready; I will carry it up. Never mind me, Mrs. Madison, it +is not very heavy,' cried the girl, bustling and heated, and she took up +the tray with her strong young arms, but, in her hurry, the velvet +slippers had been forgotten. + +Mildred started with dismay at the sound of the little tapping heels. +Would Roy recognise it? Yes, a flush had passed over his wan face; he +tried to raise himself feebly, but the incautious movement brought on a +fit of coughing. + +Mildred passed a supporting arm under the pillows, and waited patiently +till the paroxysm had passed. + +'Dear Rex, you should not have tried to raise yourself--there, lean +back, and be quiet a moment till you have recovered,' and she wiped the +cold drops of exhaustion from his forehead. + +But he still fought with the struggling breath. + +'Was it she--was it Polly?' he gasped. + +'Yes,' returned Mildred, alarmed at his excessive agitation and unable +to withhold the truth; 'but you must not talk just now.' + +'Just one word; when did she come?' he whispered, faintly. + +'With me; she has been here all this time. It is her cookery, not Mrs. +Madison's, that you have been praising so highly. No, you must not see +her yet,' answering his wistful glance; 'you are so weak that Dr. +Blenkinsop has forbidden it at present; but you will soon be better, +dear,' and it was a proof of his weakness that Roy did not contest the +point. + +But the result of Polly's imprudence was less harmful than she had +feared. Roy grew less restless. From that evening he would lie listening +for hours to the light footsteps about the house, his eyes would +brighten as they paused at his door. + +The flowers that Polly now ventured to lay on his tray were always +placed within his reach; he would lie and look at them contentedly. Once +a scrap of white paper attracted his eyes. How eagerly his thin fingers +clutched it There were only a few words traced on it--'Good-night, my +dear brother Roy; I am so glad you are better;' but when Mildred was not +looking the paper was pressed to his lips and hidden under his pillow. + +'You need not move about so quietly, I think he likes to hear you,' +Mildred said to the girl when she had assured herself that no hurtful +effect had been the result of Polly's carelessness, and Polly had +thanked her with glistening eyes. + +How light her heart grew; she burst into little quavers and trills of +song as she flitted about Mrs. Madison's bright kitchen. Roy heard her +singing one of his favourite airs, and made Mildred open the door. + +'She has the sweetest voice I ever heard,' he said with a sigh when she +had finished. 'Ask her to do that oftener; it is like David's harp to +Saul,' cried the lad, with tears in his eyes; 'it refreshes me.' + +Once they could hear her fondling the dog in the entry below. + +'Dear old Sue, you are such a darling old dog, and I love you so, though +you are too stupid to be taught any tricks,' she said, playfully. + +When Sue next found admittance into her master's room Roy called the +animal to him with feeble voice. 'Let her be, I like to have her here,' +he said, when Mildred would have lifted her from the snow-white +counterpane. 'Sue loves her master, and her master loves Sue,' and as +the creature thrust its slender nose delightedly into his hand Roy +dropped a furtive kiss on the smooth black head. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +'I CANNOT SING THE OLD SONGS' + + 'Ask me no more: what answer should I give? + I love not hollow cheek or faded eye: + Yet, O my friend, I will not have thee die! + Ask me no more, lest I should bid thee live; + Ask me no more. + + 'Ask me no more; thy fate and mine are seal'd: + I strove against the stream and all in vain: + Let the great river take me to the main: + No more, dear love, for at a touch I yield; + Ask me no more.' + + Tennyson's _Princess_. + + +Richard had promised to pay them another visit shortly, and one Saturday +evening while Polly and Sue were racing each other among the gravel-pits +and the furze-bushes of the people's great common, and the lights +twinkled merrily in the Vale of Health, and the shifting mist shut out +the blue distances of Harrow and Pinner, Mildred was charmed as well as +startled by the sound of his voice in the hall. + +'Well, Rex, you are getting on famously, I hear; thanks to Aunt Milly's +nursing,' was his cheerful greeting. + +Roy shook his head despondingly. + +'I should do better if I could see something different from these four +walls,' he returned, with a discontented glance round the room that +Mildred had made so bright and pretty; 'it is absurd keeping me moped up +here, but Aunt Milly is inexorable.' + +Mildred smiled over her boy's peevishness. + +'He does not know what is good for him,' she returned, gently; 'he +always gets restless towards evening. Dr. Blenkinsop has been most +strict in bidding me keep him from excitement and not to let him talk +with any one. This is the first day he has withdrawn his prohibition, +and Roy has been in his tantrums ever since.' + +'He said I might go downstairs if only I were spared the trouble of +walking,' grumbled Roy, who sometimes tyrannised over Aunt Milly--and +dearly she loved such tyranny. + +'He is more like a spoiled child than ever,' she said, laughing. + +'If that be all, the difficulty is soon obviated. I can carry him +easily,' returned Richard, looking down a little sadly at the long gaunt +figure before him, looking strangely shrunken in the brilliant +dressing-gown that was Roy's special glory; 'but I must be careful, you +look thin and brittle enough to break.' + +'May he, Aunt Milly? Oh, I do so long to see the old studio again, and +the couch is so much more comfortable than this,' his eyes beginning to +shine with excitement and his colour varying dangerously. + +'Is it quite prudent, Richard?' she asked, hesitatingly. 'Had we not +better wait till to-morrow?' but Roy's eagerness overbore her scruples. + +Polly little knew what surprise was in store for her. Her race over, she +walked along soberly, wondering how she should occupy herself that +evening. She, too, knew that Dr. Blenkinsop's prohibition had been +removed, and had chafed a little restlessly when Mildred had asked her +to be patient till the next day. 'Aunt Milly is too careful; she does +not think how I long to see him,' she said, as she walked slowly home. A +light streamed across the dark garden when she reached The Hollies; a +radiance of firelight and lamplight. 'I wonder if Richard has come,' +thought Polly, as she stole into the little passage and gently opened +the door. + +Yes, Richard was there; his square, thick-set figure blocking up the +fireplace as he leant in his favourite attitude against the mantelpiece; +and there was Aunt Milly, smiling as though something pleased her. And +yes, surely that was Roy's wraith wrapped in the gorgeous dressing-gown +and supported by pillows. + +The blood rushed to the girl's face as she stood for a moment as though +spell-bound, but at the sound of her half-suppressed exclamation he +turned his head feebly and looked at her. + +'Polly' was all he said, but at his voice she had sprung across the +room, and as he stretched out his thin hand to her with an attempt at +his old smile, a low sob had risen to her lips, and, utterly overcome by +the spectacle of his weakness, she buried her face in his pillows. + +Roy's eyes grew moist with sympathy. + +'Don't cry, Polly--don't; I cannot bear it,' he whispered, faintly. + +'Don't, Polly; try to control yourself; this agitation is very bad for +him;' and Richard raised her gently, for a deadly pallor had overspread +Roy's features. + +'I could not help it,' she returned, drying her eyes, 'to see him lying +there looking so ill. Oh, Rex! it breaks my heart,' and the two young +creatures almost clung together in their agitation; and, indeed, Roy's +hollow blue eyes and thin, bloodless face had a spectral beauty that was +absolutely startling. + +'I never thought you would mind so much, Polly,' he said, tremulously; +and the poor lad looked at her with an eagerness that he could not +disguise. 'I hardly dared to expect that you could waste so much time +and thought on me.' + +'Oh, Rex, how can you say such unkind things; not care--and I have been +fretting all this time?' + +'That was hardly kind to Heriot, was it?' he said, watching her, and a +strange vivid light shone in his eyes. If she had not known before she +must have felt then how he loved her; a sudden blush rose to her cheek +as he mentioned Dr. Heriot's name; involuntarily she moved a little away +from him, and Roy's head fell back on the pillow with a sigh. + +Neither of them seemed much disposed for speech after that. Roy lay back +with closed eyes and knitted brows, and Polly sat on a low chair +watching the great spluttering log and showers of sparks, while Mildred +and Richard talked in undertones. + +Now and then Roy opened his eyes and looked at her--at the dainty little +figure and sweet, thoughtful face; the firelight shone on the shielding +hand and half-hoop of diamonds. He recognised the ribbon she wore; he +had bought it for her, as well as the little garnet ring he had +afterwards voted as rubbish. The sight angered him. He would claim it +again, he thought. She should wear no gifts of his; the diamonds had +overpowered his garnets, just as his poor little love had been crushed +by Dr. Heriot's fascination. Adonis, with his sleepy blue eyes and fair +moustache and velvet coat, had failed in the contest with the elder man. +What was he, after all, but a beggarly artist? No wonder she despised +his scraps of ribbon, his paltry gewgaws, and odds and ends of rubbish. +'And yet if I had only had my chance,' he groaned within himself, 'if I +had wooed her, if I had compelled her to understand my meaning.' And +then his anger melted, as she raised her clear, honest eyes, and looked +at him. + +'Are you in pain, Rex?--can I move your pillows?' bending over him +rather timidly. Poor children! a veil of reserve had fallen between them +since Dr. Heriot's name had been mentioned, and she no longer spoke to +him with the old fearlessness. + +'No, I am not in pain. Come here, Polly; you have not begun to be afraid +of me since--since I have been ill?' rather moodily. + +'No, Rex, of course not.' But she faltered a little over her words. + +'Sit down beside me for a minute. What was it you called me in your +letter, before I was ill? Something--it looked strangely written by your +hand, Polly.' + +'Brother--my dear brother Rex,' almost inaudibly. + +'Ah, I remember. It would have made me smile, only I was not in the +humour for smiling. I did not write back to my sister Polly though. +Richard calls you his little sister very often, does he not?' + +'Yes, and I love to hear him say it,' very earnestly. + +'Should you love it if I called you that too?' he returned, with an +involuntary curl of the lip. 'Pshaw! This is idle talk; but sick people +will have their fancies. I have one at present. I want you not to wear +that rubbish any more,' touching her hand lightly. + +'Oh, Rex--the ring you gave me?' the tears starting to her eyes. + +'I never threw a flower away the gift of one that cared for me,' he +replied, with a weak laugh. '"I never had a dear gazelle but it was sure +to marry the market-gardener." Do you remember Dick Swiveller, Polly, +and the many laughs we have had over him in the old garden at home? Oh, +those days!' checking himself abruptly, for fear the pent-up bitterness +might find vent. + +'Children, you are talking too much,' interposed Mildred's warning +voice, not slow to interpret the rising excitement of Roy's manner. + +'One minute more, Aunt Milly,' he returned, hastily; then, dropping his +voice, 'The gift must go back to the giver. I don't want you to wear +that ugly little ring any longer, Polly.' + +'But I prize it so,' she remonstrated. 'If I give it back to you, you +will throw it in the fire, or trample on it.' + +'On my honour, no; but I can't stand seeing you wear such rubbish. I +will keep it safely--I will indeed, Polly. Do please me in this.' And +Polly, who had never refused him anything, drew off the shabby little +ring from her finger and handed it to him with downcast eyes. Why should +he ask from her such a sacrifice? Every ribbon and every flower he had +given her she had hoarded up as though they were of priceless value, and +now he had taken from her her most cherished treasure. And Polly's lip +quivered so that she could hardly bid him good-night. + +Richard, who saw the girl was fretting, tried by every means in his +power to cheer her. He threw on another log, placed her little +basket-work chair in the most inviting corner, showed her the different +periodicals he had brought from Oxford for Roy's amusement, and gave her +lively sketches of undergraduate life. Polly showed her interest very +languidly; she was mourning the loss of her ring, and thinking how much +her long-desired interview with Roy had disappointed her. Would he never +be the same to her again? Would this sad misunderstanding always come +between them? + +How was it she was clinging to him with the old fondness till he had +mentioned Dr. Heriot's name, and then their hands had fallen asunder +simultaneously? + +'Poor Roy, and poor, poor Polly!' she thought, with a self-pity as new +as it was painful. + +'You are not listening to me, Polly. You are tired, my dear,' Richard +said at last, in his kind fraternal way. + +'No, I am very rude. But I cannot help thinking of Rex; how ill he is, +and how terribly wasted he looks!' + +'I knew it would be a shock to you. I am thankful that my father's gout +prevents him from travelling; he would fret dreadfully over Roy's +altered appearance. But we must be thankful that he is as well as he is. +I could not help thinking all that night--the night before you and Aunt +Milly came--what I should do if we lost him.' + +'Don't, Richard. I cannot bear to think of it.' + +'It ought to make us so grateful,' he murmured. 'First Olive and then +Roy brought back from the very brink of the grave. It is too much +goodness; it makes one ashamed of one's discontent.' And he sighed +involuntarily. + +'But it is so sad to see him so helpless. You said he was as light as a +child when you lifted him, Richard, and if he speaks a word or two he +coughs. I am afraid Dr. Blenkinsop is right in saying he must go to +Hastings for the winter.' + +'We shall hear what Dr. John says when he comes up next. You expect him +soon, Polly?' But Richard, as he asked the question, avoided meeting her +eyes. He feared lest this long absence had excited suspicions which he +might find difficult to answer. + +But Polly's innocence was proof against any such surmises. 'I cannot +think what keeps him,' she returned, disconsolately. Olive says he is +not very busy, and that his new assistant relieves him of half his +work.' + +'And he gives you no reason?' touching the log to elicit another shower +of sparks. + +'No, he only says that he cannot come at present, and answers all my +reproaches with jests--you know his way. I don't think he half knows how +I want him. Richard, I do wish you would do something for me. Write to +him to-morrow, and ask him to come; tell him I want him very badly, that +I never wanted him half so much before.' + +'Dear Polly, you cannot need him so much as that,' trying to turn off +her earnestness with a laugh. + +'You do not know--you none of you know--how much I want him,' with a +strange vehemence in her tone. 'When he is near me I feel safe--almost +happy. Ah!' cried the girl, with a sad wistfulness coming into her eyes, +'when I see him I do not need to remind myself of his goodness and +love--I can feel it then. Oh, Richard dear! tell him he must come--that +I am afraid to be without him any longer.' + +Afraid of what? Did she know? Did Richard know? + +'She seems very restless without you,' he wrote that Sunday afternoon. +'I fancy Roy's manner frets her. He is fitful in his moods--a little +irritable even to her, and yet unable to bear her out of his sight. He +would be brought down into the studio again to-day, though Aunt Milly +begged him to spare himself. Polly has been trying all the afternoon to +amuse him, but he will not be amused. She has just gone off to the +piano, in the hope of singing him to sleep. Rex tyrannises over us all +dreadfully.' + +Dr. Heriot sighed over Richard's letter, but he made no attempt to +facilitate his preparations for going to London; he was reading things +by a clear light now; this failure of his was a sore subject to him; in +spite of the prospect that was dawning slowly before him, he could not +bear to think of the tangled web he had so unthinkingly woven--it would +need careful unravelling, he thought; and so curious is the mingled warp +and woof in the mind of a man like John Heriot, that while his heart +yearned for Mildred with the strong passion of his nature, he felt for +his young betrothed a tenderness for which there was no name, and the +thought of freeing himself and her was painful in the extreme. + +He longed to see her again and judge for himself, but he must be patient +for a while, he knew; so though Polly pleaded for his presence almost +passionately, he still put her off on some pretext or other,--nor did he +come till a strong letter of remonstrance from Mildred reached him, +reproaching him for his apparent neglect, and begging him to recall the +girl, as their present position was not good for her or Roy. + +Mildred was constrained to take this step, urged by her pity for Polly's +evident unhappiness. + +That some struggle was passing in the girl's mind was now evident. Was +she becoming shaken in her loyalty to Dr. Heriot? Mildred grew alarmed; +she saw that while Roy's invalid fancies were obeyed with the old +Polly-like docility and sweetness, that she shrank at times from him as +though she were afraid to trust herself with him; sometimes at a look or +word she would rise from his side and go to the piano and sing softly to +herself some airs that Dr. Heriot loved. + +'You never sing my old favourites now, Polly,' Roy said once, rather +fretfully, 'but only these old things over and over again!' + +'I like to sing these best,' she said, hastily; and then, as he still +pressed the point, she pushed the music from her, and hurried out of the +room. + +But Mildred had another cause for uneasiness which she kept to herself. +There was no denying that Roy was very slow in regaining strength. Dr. +Blenkinsop shook his head, and looked more dissatisfied every day. + +'I don't know what to make of him,' he owned to Mildred, one day, as +they stood in the porch together. + +It was a mild December afternoon; a red wintry sun hung over the little +garden; a faint crescent moon rose behind the trees; underneath the +window a few chrysanthemums shed a soft blur of violet and dull crimson; +a slight wind stirred the hair from Mildred's temples, showing a streak +of gray; but worn and thin as she looked, Dr. Blenkinsop thought he had +never seen a face that pleased him better. + +'What a Sister of Mercy she would make,' he often thought; 'if I know +anything of human nature, this woman has known a great sorrow; she has +been taught patience in a rough school; no matter how that boy tries +her, she has always a cheerful answer ready for him.' + +Dr. Blenkinsop was in rather a bad humour this afternoon, a fact that +was often patent enough to his patients, whom he was given to treat on +such occasions with some _brusquerie_; but with all his oddities and +contradictions, they dearly loved him. + +'I can't make him out at all,' he repeated, irritably, feeling his +iron-gray whiskers, a trick of his when anything discomposed him; 'there +is no fault to find with his constitution; he has had a sharp bout of +illness, brought on, as far as I can make out, by his own imprudence, +and just as he has turned the corner nicely, and seems doing us all +credit, he declines to make any further progress!' + +'But he is really better, Dr. Blenkinsop; he coughs far less, and his +sleep is less broken; he has no appetite, certainly, but----' Mildred +stopped. She thought herself that Roy had been losing ground lately. + +Dr. Blenkinsop fairly growled,--he had little sharp white teeth that +showed almost savagely when he was in one of his surly moods. + +'These lymphatic natures are the worst to combat, they succumb so +readily to weakness and depression; he certainly seems more languid +to-day, and there are feverish indications. He has got nothing on his +mind, eh?'--turning round so abruptly that Mildred was put out of +countenance. + +She hesitated. + +'Humph!' was his next observation, 'I thought as much. Of course it is +none of my concern, but when I see my patient losing ground without any +visible cause, one begins to ask questions. That young lady who assists +in the nursing--do you think her presence advisable, eh?'--with another +sharp glance at Mildred. + +'She is his adopted sister--she is engaged,' stammered Mildred, not +willing to betray the lad's secret. 'They are very fond of each other.' + +'A questionable sort of fondness--rather too feverish on one side, I +should say. Send her back to the north, and get that nice fellow Richard +in her place; that is my advice.' + +And acting on this very broad hint, Mildred soon afterwards wrote to Dr. +Heriot to recall Polly. + +When Dr. Blenkinsop had left her, she did not at once return to the +studio; through the closed door she could hear Polly striking soft +chords on the piano. Roy had seemed drowsy, and she trusted the girl's +murmuring voice would lull him to sleep. + +It was not often that she left them together; but this afternoon her +longing for a little fresh air tempted her to undertake some errands +that were needed for the invalid; and leaving a message with Mrs. +Madison that she would be back to the early tea, she set off in the +direction of the old town. + +It was getting rapidly dusk as the little gate swung behind Mildred. +When Roy roused from his fitful slumber, he could hardly see Polly as +she sat at the shabby, square piano. + +The girl was touching the notes with listless fingers, her head drooping +over the keys; but she suddenly started when she saw the tall gaunt +figure beside her in the gorgeous dressing-gown. + +'Oh, Rex, this is very wrong,' taking hold of one of his hot hands, and +trying to lead him back to the sofa, 'when you know you cannot stand, +and that the least movement makes you cough. Put your hand on my +shoulder; lean on me. Oh, I wish I were as strong and tall as Aunt +Milly.' + +'I like you best as you are,' he replied, but he did not refuse the +support she offered him. 'I could not see you over there, only the +outline of your dress. You never wear your pretty dresses now, Polly?' +reproachfully. 'I suppose because Heriot is not here.' + +'Indeed--indeed--you must not stand any longer, Rex. You must lie down +at once, or I shall tell Aunt Milly,' she returned, evasively. + +He was always making these sort of speeches to her, and to-night she +felt as though she could not bear them; but Roy was not to be silenced. +Never once had she mentioned Dr. Heriot's name to him, and with an odd +tenacity he wanted to make her say it. What did she call him? had she +learnt to say his Christian name? would she pronounce it with a blush, +faltering over it as girls do? or would she speak it glibly as with long +usage? + +'I suppose you keep them all for him,' he continued, with a suspicion of +bitterness in his tone; 'that little nun-like gray dress is good enough +for Aunt Milly and me. Too much colour would be bad for weak eyes, eh, +Polly?' + +'I dress for him, of course,' trying to defend herself with dignity; but +the next moment she waxed humble again. 'I--I am sorry you do not like +the dress, Rex,' she faltered. 'I should like to please you both if I +could,' and her eyes filled with tears. + +'I think you might sing sometimes to please me when he is not here,' he +returned, obstinately; 'just one song, Polly; my favourite one, with +that sad, sweet refrain.' + +'Oh, not that one,' she repeated, beginning to tremble; 'choose +something else, Rex--not that.' + +'No, I will have that or none,' he replied, irritably. What had become +of Roy's sweet temper? 'You seem determined not to please me in +anything,' and he moved away. + +Polly watched his tottering steps a moment, and then she sprang after +him. + +'Oh, Rex, do not be so cross with me; do not refuse my help,' she said, +winding her arm round him, and compelling him to lean on her. 'There, +you have done yourself mischief,' as he paused, overcome by a paroxysm +of coughing. 'How can you--how can you be so unkind to me, Rex?' + +He did not answer; perhaps, absorbed in his own trouble, he hardly knew +how he tried her; but as he sank back feebly on the cushions, he +whispered-- + +'You will sing it, Polly, will you not?' + +'Yes, yes; anything, if you will only not be angry with me,' returned +the poor girl, as she hurried away. + +The air was a mournful one, just suited to the words:-- + + 'Ask me no more: what answer should I give? + I love not hollow cheek or faded eye: + Yet, O my friend, I will not have thee die! + Ask me no more, lest I should bid thee live; + Ask me no more.' + +'Polly, come here! come to me, Polly!' for, overcome by a sudden +revulsion of feeling, Polly had broken down, and hidden her face in her +hands; and now a stifled sob reached Roy's ear. + +'Polly, I dare not move, and I only want to ask you to forgive me,' in a +remorseful voice; and the girl obeyed him reluctantly. + +'What makes you so cruel to me?' she panted, looking at him with sad +eyes, that seemed to pierce his selfishness. 'It is not my fault if you +are so unhappy--if you will not get well.' + +'Ask me no more; thy fate and mine are sealed.' The plaintive rhythm +still haunted her. Was she, after all, so much to blame? Was she not +suffering too? Why should he lay this terrible burden on her? It was +selfish of him to die and leave her to her misery. + +Roy fairly quailed beneath the girl's indignation and passionate sorrow. + +'Have I been so hard to you, Polly?' he said, humbly. 'Are men ever hard +to the women they love? There, the murder is out. You must leave me, +Polly; you must go back to Heriot. I am too weak to hide the truth any +longer. You must not stay and listen to me,' pushing her away with weak +force. + +It was his turn to be agitated now. + +'Leave me!' he repeated, 'it is not loyal to Heriot to listen to a +fool's maundering, which he has not the wit or the strength to hide. I +should only frighten you with my vehemence, and do no good. Aunt Milly +will be here directly. Leave me, I say.' + +But she only clung to him, and called him brother. Alas! how could she +leave him! + +By and by he grew calmer. + +'Forgive me, Polly; I am not myself; I ought not to have made you sing +that song.' + +'No, Rex,' in a voice scarcely audible. + +'When you go back to Heriot you must tell him all. Ask him not to be +hard on me. I never meant to injure him. The man you love is sacred in +my eyes. It was only for a little while I hated him.' + +'I will not tell him that.' + +'Listen to me, dear! I ask his pardon, and yours too, for having +betrayed myself. I have acted like a weak fool to-night. You were wiser +than I, Polly.' + +'There is nothing to forgive,' she returned, softly. 'Heriot will not be +angry with you; he knows you are ill, and I--I will try to forget it. +But you must get well, Rex; you will promise to get well for my sake.' + +'Shall you grieve very much if I do not? Heriot would comfort you, if I +did not, Polly.' + +She made an involuntary movement towards him, and then checked herself. + +'Cruel! cruel!' she said, in a voice that sounded dead and cold, and her +arms fell to her side. + +He melted at that. + +'There, I have hurt you again. What a selfish wretch I am. I shall make +a poor thing of life; but I will promise not to die if I can help it. +You shall not call me cruel again, Polly.' + +Then she smiled, and stretched out her hand to him. + +'I would not requite your goodness so badly as that. You could always do +as you liked with me in the old days, Polly--turn me round your little +finger. If you tell me to get well I suppose I must try; but the best +part of me is gone.' + +She could not answer him. Every word went through her tender heart like +a stab. What avail were her love and pity? Never should she be able to +comfort him again; never would her sweet sisterly ministrations suffice +for him. She must not linger by his side; her eyes were open now. + +'Good-bye, Roy,' she faltered. She hardly knew what she meant by that +farewell. Was she going to leave him? Was she only saying good-bye to +the past, to girlhood, to all manner of fond foolish dreams? She rose +with dry eyes when she had uttered that little speech, while he lay +watching her. + +'Do you mean to leave me?' he asked, sorrowfully, but not disputing her +decision. + +'Perhaps--yes--what does it matter?' she answered, moving drearily away. + +What did it matter indeed? Her fate and his were sealed. Between them +stretched a gulf, long as life, impassable as death; and even her +innocent love might not span it. + +'I shall not go to him, and he will not return to me,' she said, +paraphrasing the words of the royal mourner to harmonise with her +measure of pain. 'Never while I live shall I have my brother Roy again.' + +Poor little aching, childish heart, dealing for the first time with +life's mysteries, comprehending now the relative distinction between +love and gratitude, and standing with reluctant feet on the edge of an +unalterable resolve. What sorrow in after years ever equalled this +blank? + +When Mildred returned she found a very desolate scene awaiting her; the +fire had burnt low, a waste of dull red embers filled the grate, the +moon shone through the one uncurtained window; a mass of drapery stirred +at her entrance, a yawning figure stretched itself under the oriental +quilt. + +'Roy, were you asleep? The fire is nearly out. Where is Polly? + +'I do not know. She left the room just now,' he returned, with a sleepy +inflection; but to Mildred's delicate perception it did not ring true. +She said nothing, however, raked the embers together, threw on some +wood, and lighted the lamps. + +Had he really slept? There was no need to ask the question; his burning +hand, the feverish light of his eyes, the compressed lips, the baffled +and tortured lines of the brow, told her another story; she leant over +him, pressing them out with soft fingers. + +'Rex, my poor boy!' + +'Aunt Milly, she has bidden me good-bye,' broke out the lad suddenly; +'she knows, and she is going back to Heriot; and I--I am the most +miserable wretch alive.' + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +'WHICH SHALL IT BE?' + + 'She looked again, as one that half afraid + Would fain be certain of a doubtful thing; + Or one beseeching, "Do not me upbraid!" + And then she trembled like the fluttering + Of timid little birds, and silent stood.' + + Jean Ingelow. + + +Dr. Heriot started for London the day after he had received Mildred's +letter; as he intended, his appearance took them all by surprise. + +Mildred was the first to detect the well-known footsteps on the +gravelled path; but she held her peace. Dr. Heriot's keen glance, as he +stood on the threshold, had time to scan the features of the little +fireside group before a word of greeting had crossed his lips; he +noticed Polly's listless attitude as she sat apart in the dark +window-seat, and the moody restlessness of Roy's face as he lay +furtively watching her. Even Mildred's heightened colour, as she bent +industriously over her work, was not lost on him. + +'Polly!' he said, crossing the room, and marvelling at her unusual +abstraction. + +At the sound of the kind, well-known voice, the girl started violently; +but as he stooped over her and kissed her, she turned very white, and +involuntarily shrank from him, but the next moment she clung to him +almost excitedly. + +'Oh, Heriot, why did you not come before? You knew I wanted you--you +must have known how I wanted you.' + +'Yes, dear, I knew all about it,' he replied, quietly, putting away the +little cold hands that detained him, and turning to the others. + +A few kind inquiries after the invalid were met at first very irritably, +but even Roy's jealousy could not be proof against such gentleness, and +he forgot his wretchedness for a time while listening to home messages, +and all the budget of Kirkby Stephen gossip which Dr. Heriot retailed +over the cosy meal that Mildred provided for the traveller. + +For once Dr. Heriot proved himself an inexhaustible talker; there was no +limit to his stock of anecdotes. Roy's sulkiness vanished; he grew +interested, almost amused. + +'You remember old Mrs. Parkinson and her ginger-cakes, Polly,' he said, +with a weak ghost of a laugh; but then he checked himself with a frown. +How was it one could not hate this fellow, who had defrauded him of +Polly? he thought, clenching his hand impatiently. Why was he to succumb +to a charm of manner that had worked him such woe? + +Dr. Heriot's fine instinct perceived the lad's transition of mood. + +'Yes, Polly has a faithful memory for an old friend,' he said, answering +for the girl, who sat near him with a strip of embroidery from which she +had not once raised her eyes. As he looked at her, his face worked with +some strong emotion; his eyes softened, and then grew sad. + +'Polly is faith itself,' speaking with peculiar intonation, and laying +his hand on the small shining head. 'You see I have a new name for you +to-night, Heartsease.' + +'I think I will go to bed, Aunt Milly,' broke out poor Roy, growing +suddenly pale and haggard. 'I--I am tired, and it is later to-night, I +think.' + +Dr. Heriot made no effort to combat his resolution. He stood aside while +Mildred offered her arm to the invalid. He saw Polly hurriedly slip her +hand in Roy's, who wrung it hard with a sort of laugh. + +'It is good-bye for good and all, I suppose to-night?' he said. 'Heriot +means to take you away, of course?' + +But Polly did not answer; she only hid her red quivering hand under her +work, as though she feared Dr. Heriot would see it. + +But the next moment the work was thrown lightly to the ground, and Dr. +Heriot's fingers were gently stroking the ill-used hand. + +'Poor little Polly; does he often treat you to such a rough hand-shake?' +he said, with a half-amused, tender smile. + +'No, never,' she stammered; but then, as though gaining courage from the +kind face looking down at her, 'Oh, Heriot, I am so glad he is gone. +I--I want to speak to you.' + +'Is that why you have been so silent?' drawing her nearer to him as she +stood beside him on the rug. 'Little Heartsease, did you like my new +name?' + +'Don't, Heriot; I--I do not understand you; I have not been faithful at +least.' + +'Not in your sense of the word, perhaps, dear Polly, but in mine. What +if your faithfulness should save us both from a great mistake?' + +'I--I do not understand you,' she said again, looking at him with sad, +bewildered eyes. 'You shall talk to me presently; but now I want to +speak to you. Heriot, I was wrong to come here--wrong and self-willed. +Aunt Milly was right; I have done no good. Oh, it has all been so +miserable--a mistake from beginning to end; and then I thought you would +never come.' + +'Dear Polly, it could not be helped. Neither can I stay now.' + +'You will not go and leave me again?' she said, faltering and becoming +very pale. 'Heriot, you must take me with you; promise me that you will +take me with you.' + +'I cannot, my dear child. Indeed--indeed--I cannot' + +'Then I will go alone,' she said, throwing back her head proudly, but +trembling as she spoke. 'I will not stay here without you--not for a +day--not for a single day.' + +'But Roy wants you. You cannot leave him until he is better,' he said, +watching her; but though she coloured perceptibly, she stood her ground. + +'I was wrong to come,' she returned, piteously. 'I cannot help it if Rex +wants me. I know he does. You are saying this to punish me, and because +I have failed in my duty.' + +'Hush, my child; I at least have not reproached you.' + +'No, you never reproach me; you are kindness itself. Heriot,' laying +down her face on his arm, and now he knew she was weeping, 'I never knew +until lately how badly I have treated you. You ought not to have chosen +a child like me. I have tried your patience, and given you no return for +your goodness; but I have resolved that all this shall be altered.' + +'Is it in your power, Polly?' speaking now more gravely. + +'It must--it shall be. Listen to me, dear. You asked me once to make no +unnecessary delay, but to be your wife at once. Heriot, I am ready now.' + +'No, my child, no.' + +'Ah, but I am,' speaking with difficulty through her sobs. 'I never +cared for you so much. I never wanted you so much. I am so full of +gratitude--I long to make you so happy--to make somebody happy. You must +take me away from here, where Roy will not make me miserable any more, +and then I shall try to forget him--his unhappiness, I mean--and to +think only of you.' + +'Poor child,' speaking more to himself than to her; 'and this is to what +I have brought her.' + +'You must not be angry with Roy,' continued the young girl, when her +agitation had a little subsided. 'He could not help my seeing what he +felt; and then he told me to go back to you. He has tried his hardest, I +know he has; every night I prayed that you might come and take me away, +and every morning I dreaded lest I should be disappointed. Heriot, it +was cruel--cruel to leave me so long.' + +'And you will come back with me now?' + +'Oh yes,' with a little sighing breath. + +'And I am to make you my wife? I am not to wait for your nineteenth +birthday?' + +'No. Oh, Heriot, how self-willed and selfish I was.' + +'Neither one nor the other. Listen to me, dear Polly. Nay, you are +trembling so that you can hardly stand; sit beside me on this couch; it +is my turn to talk now. I have a little story to tell you.' + +'A story, Heriot?' + +'Yes; shall we call it "The Guardian's Mistake"? I am not much of a hand +in story-telling, but I hope I shall make my meaning clear. What, +afraid, my child? nay, there is no sad ending to this story of mine; it +runs merrily to the tune of wedding bells.' + +'I do not want to hear it,' she said, shrinking nervously; but he, +half-laughingly and half-seriously, persisted:-- + +'Once upon a time, shall we say that, Polly? Little Heartsease, how pale +you are growing. Once upon a time, a great many years ago, a man +committed a great mistake that darkened his after life. + +'He married a woman whom he loved, but whose heart he had not won. Not +that he knew that. Heaven forbid that any one calling himself a man +should do so base a thing as that; but his wishes and his affection +blinded him, and the result was misery for many a year to come.' + +'But he grew comforted in time,' interrupted Polly, softly. + +'Yes, time, and friendship, and other blessings, bestowed by the good +God, healed the bitterness of the wound, but it still bled inwardly. He +was a weary-hearted man, with a secret disgust of life, and full of sad +loathing for the empty home that sheltered his loneliness, all the +more,' as Polly pressed closer to him, 'that he was one who had ever +craved for wife and children. + +'It was at this time, just as memory was growing faint, that a certain +young girl, the daughter of an old college friend of his, was left to +his care. Think, Polly, how sacred a charge to this desolate man; a +young orphan, alone in the world, and dependent on his care.' + +'Heriot, I beseech you to stop; you are breaking my heart.' + +'Nay, dearest, there is nothing sad in my story; there are only wheels +within wheels, a complication heightening the interest of the plot. +Well, was it a wonder that this man, this nameless hero of ours, a +species of Don Quixote in his way, should weave a certain sweet fancy +into his dreary life, that he should conceive the idea of protecting and +loving this young girl in the best way he could by making her his wife, +thinking that he would make himself and her happy, but always thinking +most of her.' + +'Oh, Heriot, no more; have pity on me.' + +'What, stop in the middle of my story, and before my second hero makes +his appearance? For shame, Heartsease; but this man, for all his wise +plans and benevolent schemes, proved himself miserably blind. + +'He knew that this girl had an adopted brother whom she loved dearly. +Nay, do not hide your face, Polly; no angel's love could have been purer +than this girl's for this friend of hers; but alas, what no one had +foreseen had already happened; unknown to her guardian, and to herself, +this young man had always loved, and desired to win her for his wife.' + +'She never knew it,' in a stifled voice. + +'No, she never knew it, any more than she knew her own heart. Why do you +start, Heartsease? Ah, she was so sure of that, so certain of her love +for her affianced husband, that when she knew her friend was ill, she +pleaded to be allowed to nurse him. Yes, though she had found out then +the reason of his unhappiness.' + +'She hoped to do good,' clasping her hands before her face. + +'True, she hoped to do good; she fancied, not knowing the world and her +own heart, that she could win him back to his old place, and so keep +them both, her guardian and her friend. And her guardian, heart-sick at +the mistake he had made, and with a new and secret sorrow preying upon +him, deliberately suffered her to be exposed to the ordeal that her own +generous imprudence had planned.' + +'Heriot, one moment; you have a secret sorrow?' + +'Not an incurable one, my sweet; you shall know it by and by; if I do +not mistake, it will yield us a harvest of joy; but I am drawing near +the end of the story.' + +'Yes, you have quite finished--there is nothing more to say; nothing, +Heriot.' + +'You shall tell me the rest, then,' he returned, gravely. Was she true +to her guardian, this girl; true in every fibre and feeling? or did her +faithful heart really cleave to the companion of her youth, calling her +love by the right name, and acknowledging it without fear? + +'Polly, this is no time for a half-truth; which shall it be? Is your +heart really mine, or does it belong to Roy?' + +She would have hidden her face in her hands, but he would not suffer it. + +'Child, you must answer me; there must be no shadow between us,' he +said, holding her before him. There was a touch of sternness in his +voice; but as she raised her eyes appealingly to his, she read there +nothing but pity and full understanding; for one moment she stood +irresolute, with palpitating heart and white quivering lips, and then +she threw herself into his arms. + +'Oh, Heriot, what shall I do? What shall I do? I love you both, but I +love Roy best.' + + * * * * * + +When Mildred re-entered the room, an hour later, somewhat weary of her +banishment, she found the two still talking together. Polly was sitting +in her little low chair, her cheek resting on her hand. Dr. Heriot +seemed speaking earnestly, but as the door opened, he broke off hastily, +and the girl started to her feet. + +'I must go now,' she whispered; 'don't tell Aunt Milly to-night. Oh, +Heriot, I am so happy; this seems like some wonderful dream; I don't +half believe it.' + +'We must guard each other's confidence. Remember, I have trusted you, +Polly,' was his answer, in a low tone. 'Good-night, my dearest child; +sleep well, and say a prayer for me.' + +'I do--I do pray for you always,' she affirmed, looking at him with her +soul in her eyes; but as he merely pressed her hand kindly, she suddenly +raised herself on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. 'Dear--dear Heriot, I +shall pray for you all my life long.' + +'Are you going, Polly?' asked Mildred, in surprise. + +'Yes, I am tired. I cannot talk any more to-night,' returned the girl, +hastily. + +Her face was pale, as though, she had been weeping; but her eyes smiled +radiantly under the wet lashes. + +Mildred turned to the fire, somewhat dissatisfied. + +'I hope things are right between you and Polly,' she said, anxiously, +when she and Dr. Heriot were left alone. + +'They have never been more so,' he replied, with a mischievous smile; +'for the first time we thoroughly understand ourselves and each other; +she is a dear good child, and deserves to be happy.' But as Mildred, +somewhat bewildered at the ambiguous tone, would have questioned him +still further, he gently but firmly changed the subject. + +It was a strange evening to Mildred; outside, the rain lashed the panes. +Dr. Heriot had drawn his arm-chair nearer to the glowing fire; he looked +spent and weary--some conflicting feelings seemed to fetter him with +sadness. Mildred, sitting at her little work-table, scarcely dared to +break the silence. Her own voice sounded strange to her. Once when she +looked up she saw his eyes were fixed upon her, but he withdrew them +again, and relapsed into his old thoughtfulness. + +By and by he began to talk, and then she laid down her work to listen. +Some strange chord of the past seemed stirred in the man's heart +to-night. All at once he mentioned his mother; her name was Mildred, he +said, looking into the embers as he spoke; and a little sister whom they +had lost in her childhood had been called Milly too. For their sakes the +name had always been dear to him. She was a good woman, he said, but her +one fault in his eyes had been that she had never loved Margaret; a +certain bitter scene between them had banished his widowed mother from +his house. Margaret had not understood her, and they were better apart; +but it had been a matter of grief to him. + +And then he began to talk of his wife--at first hesitatingly--and then, +as Mildred's silent sympathy seemed to open the long-closed valves, the +repressed sorrow of years began to find vent. Well might Mildred marvel +at the secret strength that had sustained the generous heart in its long +struggle, at 'the charity that suffered so long.' What could there have +been about this woman, that even degradation and shame could not weaken +his faithful love, that even in his misery he should still pity and +cleave to her. + +As though answering her thought, Dr. Heriot suddenly placed a miniature +in her hand. + +'That was taken when I first saw her,' he said, softly; 'but it does not +do her justice; and then, one cannot reproduce that magnificent voice. I +have never heard a voice like it.' + +Mildred bent over it for a moment without speaking; it was the face of a +girl taken in the first flush of her youth; but there was nothing +youthful in the face, which was full of a grave matured beauty. + +The dark melancholy eyes seemed to rivet Mildred's; a wild sorrow lurked +in their inscrutable depths; the brow spoke intellect and power; the +mouth had a passionate, irresolute curve. As she looked at it she felt +that it was a face that might well haunt a man to his sorrow. + +'It is beautiful--beautiful--but it oppresses me,' she said, laying it +down with a sigh. 'I cannot fancy it ever looking happy.' + +'No,' he returned, with a stifled voice. 'Her one trouble embittered her +life. I never remember seeing her look really happy till I placed our +boy in her arms; he taught her to smile first, and then he died, and our +happiness died with him.' + +'You must try to forget all this now,' she said, alluding to his +approaching marriage. 'It is not well to dwell upon so mournful a past.' + +'You are right; I think I shall bury it from this night,' he returned, +with a singular smile. 'I feel as though you have done me good, +Mildred--Miss Lambert--but now I am selfishly keeping you up, after all +your nursing too. Good-night.' + +He held her hand for a moment in both his; his eyes questioned the pale +worn face, anxiously, tenderly. + +'When are you going to get stronger? You do me no credit,' he said, +sadly. + +And his look and tone haunted her, in spite of her efforts. He had +called her Mildred too. + +'How strange that he should have told me all this about his wife. I am +glad he treats me as a friend,' she thought. 'A little while ago I could +not have spoken to him as I have to-night, but his manner puts me at my +ease. How can I help loving one of the noblest of God's creatures?' + +'Can you trust Roy to me this morning, Miss Lambert?' asked Dr. Heriot, +as they were sitting together after breakfast. + +Polly, who was arranging a jar of chrysanthemums, dropped a handful of +flowers on the floor, and stooped to pick them up. + +'I think Roy will like his old nurse best,' she returned, doubtfully. + +But Dr. Heriot looked obstinate. + +'A new regime and a new prescription might be beneficial,' he replied, +with a suspicion of a smile. 'Roy and I must have some conversation +together, and there's no time like the present,' and with a grave, +mischievous bow, he quietly quitted the room. + +'Aunt Milly, I must go and match those wools, and get the books for +Roy,' began Polly, hurriedly, as they were left alone. 'The rain does +not matter a bit, and the air is quite soft and warm.' + +Mildred shook her head. + +'You had better wait an hour or two till it clears up,' she said, +looking dubiously at the wet garden paths and soaking rain. 'I am going +to my own room to write letters. I have one from Olive that I must +answer. If you will wait until the afternoon, Dr. Heriot will go with +you.' + +But Polly was not to be dissuaded; she had nothing to do, she was +restless, and wanted a walk; and Roy must have his third volume when he +came down. + +It was not often that Polly chose to be wilful, and this time she had +her way. Now and then Mildred paused in the midst of her correspondence +to wonder what had detained the girl so long. Once or twice she rose and +went to the window to see if she could catch a glimpse of the dark blue +cloak and black hat but hours passed and she did not return. + +By and by Dr. Heriot's quick eyes saw a swift shadow cross the studio +window; and, as Polly stole noiselessly into the dark passage, she found +herself captured. + +'Naughty child, where have you been?' he said, removing her wet cloak, +and judging for himself that she had sustained no further damage. + +Polly's cheeks, rosy with exercise, paled a little, and she pleaded +piteously to be set free. + +'Just for a moment, Heriot. Please let me go for a moment. I will come +presently.' + +'You are not to be trusted,' he replied, not leaving hold of her. 'Do +you think this excitement is good for Roy--that in his state he can bear +it. He has been dressed and waiting for you for hours. You must think of +him, Polly, not of yourself.' And Polly resisted no longer. + +She followed Dr. Heriot, with downcast eyes, into the studio. Roy was +not on his couch; he was standing on the rug, in his velvet coat; one +thin hand grasped the mantelpiece nervously: the other was stretched out +to Polly. + +'You must not let him excite himself,' was Dr. Heriot's warning, as he +left them together. + +Poor Polly, she stood irresolute, not daring to advance, or look up, and +wishing that the ground would swallow her. + +'Polly--dear Polly--will you not come to me?' and Roy walked feebly to +meet her. Before she could move or answer, his arms were round her. 'My +Polly--my own now,' he cried, rapturously pressing her to him with weak +force; 'Heriot has given you to me.' + +Polly looked up at her young lover shyly. Roy's face was flushed, his +eyes were shining with happiness, a half-proud, half-humble expression +lingered round his mouth; the arm that supported her trembled with +weakness. + +'Oh, Rex, how wrong of me to let you stand,' she said, waking up from +her bewilderment; 'you must lie down, and I will take my old place +beside you.' + +'Yes, he has given you the right to nurse me now,' whispered Roy, as she +arranged the cushions under his head. 'I am more than your adopted +brother now.' And Polly's happy blush was her only answer. + +'You will never refuse to sing to me again?' he said presently, when +their agitation had a little subsided. + +'No, and you will let me have my old ring,' she returned, softly. 'Oh, +Rex, I cried half the night, when you would not let me wear it. I never +cared so much for my beautiful diamonds.' + +A misty smile crossed Roy's face. + +'No, Polly, I never mean to part with it again. Look here,'--and he +showed her the garnets suspended to his watch-chain--'we will exchange +rings in the old German fashion, dear. I will keep the garnets, and I +will buy you the pearl hoop you admired so much; you must remember, you +have chosen only a poor artist.' + +'Oh, Rex, how I shall glory in your pictures!' cried the girl, +breathlessly. 'I have always loved them for your sake, but now it will +be so different. They will be dearer than ever to me.' + +'I never could have worked without you, Polly,' returned the young man, +humbly. 'I tried, but it was a miserable failure; it was your childish +praise that first made me seriously think of being an artist; and when +you failed me, all the spirit seemed to die out of me, just as the +sunshine fades out of a landscape, leaving nothing but a gray mist. Oh, +Polly, even you scarcely know how wretched you made me.' + +'Do not let us talk of it,' she whispered, pressing closer to him; 'let +us only try to deserve our happiness.' + +'That is what he said,' replied Roy, in a low voice. 'He told me that we +were very young to have such a responsibility laid upon us, and that we +must help each other. Oh, what a good man he is,' he continued, with +some emotion, 'and to think that at one time I almost hated him.' + +'You could not help it,' she answered, shyly. To her there was no flaw +in her young lover; his impatience and jealousy, his hot and cold fits +that had so sorely tried her, his singular outbursts of temper, had only +been natural under the circumstances; she would have forgiven him harder +usage than that; but Roy judged himself more truly. + +'No, dear, you must not excuse me,' was the truthful answer. 'I bore my +trouble badly, and made every one round me wretched; and now all these +coals of fire are heaped upon me. If he had been my brother, he could +not have borne with me more gently. Oh,' cried the lad, earnestly, 'it +is something to see into the depths of a good man's heart. I think I saw +more than he meant me to do, but time will prove. One thing is certain, +that he never loved you as I do, Polly.' + +'No; it was all a strange mistake,' she returned, blushing and smiling; +'but hush! here comes Aunt Milly.' + +'Am I interrupting you?' asked Mildred, a little surprised at Polly's +anxious start. + +She had moved a little away from Roy; but now he stretched out his hand +to detain her. + +'No, don't go, Aunt Milly,' and a gleam of mischief shot from his blue +eyes. 'Polly has only been telling me a new version of the old song--"It +is well to be off with the old love before you are on with the new." +After all, Polly has found out that she likes me best.' + +'Children, what do you mean?' returned Mildred, somewhat sternly. + +Polly and even Roy were awed by the change in her manner; a sort of +spasm crossed her face, and then the features became almost rigid. + +'Aunt Milly, don't be angry with us,' faltered Polly; and her breast +heaved a little. Did this dearest and gentlest creature, who had stood +her in the stead of mother, think she was wrong? 'Listen to me, dear; I +would have married Heriot, but he would not let me; he showed me what +was the truth--that my heart was more Roy's than his, and then he +brought us together; it is all his doing, not Roy's.' + +'Yes, it was all my doing,' repeated Dr. Heriot, who had followed +Mildred in unperceived. 'Did I not tell you last night that Polly and I +never understood each other so well;' and he put his arm round the girl +with almost fatherly fondness, as he led her to Mildred. 'You must blame +me, and not this poor child, for all that has happened.' + +But the colour did not return to Mildred's face; she seemed utterly +bewildered. Dr. Heriot wore his inscrutable expression; he looked grave, +but not otherwise unhappy. + +'I suppose it is all for the best,' she said, somewhat unsteadily. 'I +had hoped that Polly would have been a comfort to you, but it seems +you--you are never to have that.' + +'It will come to me in time,' he returned, with a strange smile; 'at +least, I hope so.' + +'Come here, Aunt Milly,' interrupted Roy; and as Mildred stooped over +her boy he looked up in her face with the old Rex-like smile. + +'Dr. Heriot says I should never have lived if it had not been for you, +Aunt Milly. You have given me back my life, and he has given me Polly, +and,' cried the lad, and now his lips quivered, 'God bless you both.' + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +A TALK IN FAIRLIGHT GLEN + + O finer far! What work so high as mine, + Interpreter betwixt the world and man, + Nature's ungathered pearls to set and shrine, + The mystery she wraps her in to scan; + Her unsyllabic voices to combine, + And serve her with such love as poets can; + With mortal words, her chant of praise to bind, + Then die, and leave the poem to mankind?' + + Jean Ingelow. + + +Dr. Heriot did not stay long in London; as soon as his mission was +accomplished he set his face resolutely homewards. + +Christmas was fast approaching, and it was necessary to make +arrangements for Roy's removal to Hastings, and after much discussion +and a plentiful interchange of letters between the cottage and the +vicarage, it was finally settled that Mildred and Richard should remain +with the invalid until Olive and Mr. Lambert should take their place. + +Mr. Lambert was craving for a sight of his boy, but he could not feel +justified in devolving his duties on his curate until after the +Epiphany, nor would Olive consent to leave him; so Mildred bravely +stifled her homesick longings, and kept watch over the young lovers, +smiling to herself over Roy's boyishness and Polly's fruitless efforts +after staidness. + +From the low bow-window jutting on to the beach, in the quiet corner +where Richard had found them lodgings, she would often sit following the +young pair with softly amused eyes as they stood hand in hand with the +waves lapping to their feet; at the first streak of sunset they would +come slowly up the shore. Roy still tall and gaunt, but with a faint +tinge of returning health in his face; Polly fresh and blooming as a +rose, and trying hard to stay her dancing feet to fit his feeble paces. + +'What have you done with Richard, children?' Mildred would ask as usual. + +'Dick? ah, he decamped long ago, with the trite and novel observation +that "two are company and three none." We saw him last in the midst of +an admiring crowd of fishermen. Dick always knows when he is not wanted, +eh, Polly?' + +'I am afraid we treat him very badly,' returned Polly, blushing. Roy +threw himself down on the couch with a burst of laughter. His mirth had +hardly died away when his brother entered. + +'You have got back, Roy--that's right. I was just going in search of +you. There is a treacherous wind this evening. You were standing still +ever so long after I left you.' + +'That comes of you leaving us, you see,' replied Roy, slyly. 'It took us +just half an hour to discover the reason of your abrupt departure.' +Richard's eyes twinkled with dry humour. + +'One must confess to being bored at times. Keppel was far more +entertaining company than you and Polly. When I am in despair for a +little sensible conversation I must come to Aunt Milly.' + +Aunt Milly was the universal sympathiser, as usual. Richard's patience +would have been sorely put to proof, but for those grave-toned talks in +the wintry twilights, with which the gray sea and sky seemed so +strangely to harmonise. In spite of his unselfishness, the sight of his +brother's happiness could not fail to elicit at times a disturbing sense +of contrast. Who could tell what years rolled between him and the +fruition of his hope? + +'In patience and confidence must be your strength, Richard,' Mildred +once said, as they stood looking over the dim waste of waters, gray +everywhere, save where the white lips touched the shore; behind them was +the dark Castle Hill; windy flickers of light came from the esplanade; +far out to sea a little star trembled and wavered like the timid pioneer +of unknown light; a haze of uncertainty bordered earth and sky; the soft +wash of the insidious waves was tuneful and soothing as a lullaby. The +neutral tints, the colourless conditions, neither light nor dark, even +the faint wrapping mist that came like a cloud from the sea, harmonised +with Mildred's feelings as she quoted the text softly. An irrepressible +shiver ran through the young man's frame. Waiting, did he not know what +was before him--years of uncertainty, of alternate hopes and fears. + +'Yes, I know,' he replied, with an accent of impatience in his voice. +'You are right, of course; one can only wait. As for patience, it is +hardly an attribute of youth; one learns it by degrees, but all the +same, uncertainty and these low gray skies oppress one. Sea-fog does not +enhance cheerfulness, Aunt Milly. Let us go in.' + +Richard's moods of discontent were brief and rare. He was battling +bravely with his disappointment. He had always been grave and staid +beyond his years, but now faintly-drawn lines were plainly legible in +the smooth forehead, and a steady concentrated light in the brown eyes +bore witness to abiding and careful thought. At times his brother's +unreasoning boyishness seemed almost to provoke him; want of earnestness +was always a heinous sin in his judgment. Roy more than once winced +under some unpalatable home-truth which Richard uttered in all good +faith and with the best intentions in the world. + +'Dick is the finest fellow breathing, but if he would only leave off +sermonising until he is ordained,' broke out Roy, with a groan, when he +and Mildred were alone; but Mildred was too well aware of their +affection for each other to be made uneasy by any petulance on Roy's +part. He would rail at his brother's advice, and then most likely digest +and follow it; but she gave Richard a little hint once. + +'Leave them alone; their happiness is still so new to them,' pleaded the +softhearted woman. 'You can't expect Rex to look beyond the present yet, +now Polly is with him--when he is stronger he will settle down to work.' +And though Richard shook his head a little incredulously, he wisely held +his peace. + +But he would have bristled over with horror and amazement if he had +known half of the extravagant daydreams and plans which Roy was for ever +pouring into Aunt Milly's ear. Roy, who was as impetuous in his +love-making as in other things, could not be made to understand that +there was any necessity for waiting; that Polly should be due north +while he was due south was clearly an absurdity to his mind, and he +would argue the point until Mildred was fairly bewildered. + +'Rex, my dear boy, do be reasonable,' she pleaded once; 'what would +Richard say if he heard you? You must give up this daft scheme of yours; +it is contrary to all common sense. Why, you have never earned fifty +pounds by your painting yet.' + +'Excuse me, Aunt Milly, but it is so difficult to make women see +anything in a business point of view,' replied the invalid, somewhat +loftily. 'Polly understands me, of course, but she is an exception to +the general rule. I defy any one--even you, Aunt Milly--to beat Polly in +common sense.' + +'He means, of course, if his picture be sold,' returned Polly, sturdily, +who feared nothing in the world but separation from Roy. She was ready +to eat bread and cheese cheerfully all her life, she thought. Both young +people were in the hazy atmosphere of all youthful lovers, when a crust +appears a picturesque and highly desirable food, and rent and taxes and +all such contemptible items are delusions of the evil one, fostered in +the brain of careful parents. + +'Of course Rex only means if his picture sells at a good price. He will +then be sure of work from the dealers.' + +'There, I told you so,' repeated Roy, triumphantly, 'as though Polly did +not know the ups and downs of an artist's life better than you, or even +me, Aunt Milly. It is not as though we expected champagne and silk +dresses, and all sorts of unnecessary luxuries.' + +'Or velvet coats,' quietly added Mildred, and Roy looked a little +crestfallen. + +'Aunt Milly, how can you be so unkind, so disagreeable?' cried Polly, +with a little burst of indignation. 'I shall wear print dresses or cheap +stuff. There was such a pretty one at sevenpence-halfpenny the yard, at +Oliver's; but of course Rex must have his velvet coat, it looks so well +on an artist, and suits him so. I would not have Roy look shabby and out +of elbows, like Dad Fabian, for the world.' + +'You would look very pretty in a print dress, Polly, I don't doubt,' +returned Roy, a little sadly; 'but Aunt Milly is right, and it would not +match my velvet coat. We must be consistent, as Richard says.' + +'Cashmere is not so very dear, and it wears splendidly,' returned Polly, +in the tone of one elated by a new discovery, 'and with a fresh ribbon +now and then I shall look as well as I do now. You don't suppose I mean +to be a slattern if we are ever so poor. But you shall have your velvet +coat, if I have to pawn the watch Dr. Heriot gave me.' And Roy's answer +was not meant for Mildred to hear. + +Mildred felt as though she were turning the page of some story-book as +she listened to their talk. How charmingly unreal it all sounded; how +splendidly coloured with youth and happiness. After all, they were not +ambitious. The rooms at the little cottage at Frognal bounded all their +desires. The studio with the cross light and faded drapery, the worn +couch and little square piano, was to be their living room. Polly was to +work and sing, while Roy painted. Dull! how could they be dull when they +had each other? Polly would go to market, and prepare dainty little +dishes out of nothing; she would train flowers round the porch and under +the windows, and keep chickens in the empty coop by the arbour. With +plenty of eggs and fresh vegetables, their expenses would be trifling. +Dugald had taught Rex to make potato soup and herring salad. Why, he and +Dugald had spent he did not know how little a week, and of course his +father would help him. Polly was penniless and an orphan, and it was his +duty to work for her as well as for himself. + +Mildred wondered what Dr. Heriot would think of the young people's +proposition. As Polly was under age he had a voice in the matter, but +she held her peace on this subject. After all, it was only a daydream--a +very pleasant picture. She was conscious of a vague feeling of regret +that things could not be as they planned. Roy was boyish and impulsive, +but Polly might be trusted, she thought. Every now and then there was a +little spirit of shrewdness and humour in the girl's words that bubbled +to the surface. + +'Roy will always be wanting to buy new books and new music, but I shall +punish him by liking the old ones best,' she said, with a laugh. 'And no +more boxes of cigarettes, or bottles of lavender-water; and oh, Rex, you +know your extravagance in gloves.' + +'I shall only wear them on Sundays,' replied Roy, virtuously, 'and I +shall smoke pipes--an honest meerschaum after all is more enjoyable, and +in the evenings we will take long walks towards Hendon or Barnet. Polly +is a famous walker, and on fine Sundays we will go to Westminister +Abbey, or St. Paul's, or some of the grand old city churches; one can +hear fine music at the Foundling, and at St. Andrew's, Wells Street +Polly does not know half the delights of living in London.' + +'She will know it in good time,' returned Mildred, softly. She would not +take upon herself to damp their expectations; in a little while they +would learn to be reasonable. In the meanwhile she indulged in the +petting that was with her as a second nature. + +But it was a relief when her brother and Olive arrived; she had no idea +how much she had missed them, until she caught sight of her brother's +bowed figure and gray head, and Olive's grave, sallow face beside it. + +It was an exciting evening. Mr. Lambert was overjoyed at seeing his son +again, though much shocked at the still visible evidences of past +suffering. Polly was warmly welcomed with a fatherly blessing, and he +was so much occupied with the young pair, that Mildred was at liberty to +devote herself to Olive. + +She followed her into her room ostensibly to assist in unpacking, but +they soon fell into one of their old talks. + +'Dear Olive,' she said, kissing her, 'you don't know how good it is to +see you again. I never believed I could miss you so much.' + +'You have not missed me half so much as I have you,' returned Olive, +blushing with surprised pleasure. 'I always feel so lost without you, +Aunt Milly. When I wanted you very badly--more than usual, I mean--I +used to go into your room and think over all the comforting talks we +have had together, and then try and fancy what you would tell me to do +in such and such cases.' + +'Dear child, that was drawing from a very shallow well. I remember I +told you to fold up all your perplexities in your letters, and I would +try and unravel them for you; but I see you were afraid of troubling +me.' + +'That was one reason, certainly; but I had another as well. I could not +forget what you told me once about the bracing effects of self-decision +in most circumstances, and how you once laughingly compared me to Mr. +Ready-to-Halt, and advised me to throw away my crutches.' + +'In other words, solving your own difficulties; certainly I meant what I +said. Grown-up persons are so fond of thinking for young people, instead +of training them to think for themselves, and then they are surprised +that the brain struggles so slowly from the swaddling-bands that they +themselves have wrapped round them.' + +'It was easier than I thought,' returned Olive, slowly; 'at first I +tormented myself in my old way, and was tempted to renew my arguments +about conflicting duties, till I remembered there must be a right and +wrong in everything, or at least by comparison a better way.' + +'Why, you have grown quite a philosopher, Olive; I shall be proud of my +pupil,' and Mildred looked affectionately at her niece. What a +noble-looking woman Olive would be, she thought. True, the face was +colourless, and the features far too strongly marked for beauty; but the +mild, dark eyes and shadowy hair redeemed it from plainness, and the +speaking, yet subdued, intelligence that lingered behind the hesitating +speech produced a pleasing impression; yet Mildred, who knew the face so +well, fancied a shadow of past or present sadness tinged the even +gravity that was its prevailing expression. + +Olive's thoughts unfolded slowly like flowers--they always needed the +sunshine of sympathy; a keen breath, the light mockery of incredulity, +killed them on the spot. Now of her own accord she began to speak of the +young lovers. + +'How happy dear Roy looks; Polly is just suited for him. Do you know, +Aunt Milly, I had a sort of presentiment of this, it always seemed to me +that she and Dr. Heriot were making believe to like each other.' + +'I think Dr. Heriot was tolerably in earnest, Olive.' + +'Of course he meant to be; but I always thought there was too much +benevolence for the right thing; and as for Polly--oh, it was easy to +see that she only tried to be in love--it quite tired her out, the +trying I mean, and made her cross and pettish with us sometimes.' + +'I never gave you credit for so much observation.' + +'I daresay not,' returned Olive, simply, 'only one wakes up sometimes to +find things are turning out all wrong. Do you know they puzzled me +to-night--Rex and Polly, I mean. I expected to find them so different, +and they are just the same.' + +'How do you mean? I should think it would be difficult to find two +happier creatures anywhere; they behave as most young people do under +the circumstances, are never willingly out of each other's sight, and +talk plenty of nonsense.' + +'That is just what I cannot make out; it seems such a solemn and +beautiful thing to me, that I cannot understand treating it in any other +way. Why, they were making believe to quarrel just now, and Polly was +actually pouting.' + +Mildred with difficulty refrained from a smile. + +'They do that just for the pleasure of making it up again. If you could +see them this moment you would find them like a pair of cooing doves; it +will be "Poor Rex!" and "Dear Rex!" all the evening. There is no doubt +of his affection for her, Olive; it nearly cost his life.' + +'That is only an additional reason for treating it seriously. If any one +cared for me in that way,' went on Olive, blushing slightly over her +words--'not that I could believe such a thing possible,' interrupting +herself. + +'Why not, you very wise woman?' asked her aunt, amused by this voluntary +confession. Never before had Olive touched on this threadbare and +oft-maligned subject of love. + +'Aunt Milly, as though you could speak of such a thing as probable!' +returned Olive, with a slight rebuke in her voice. 'Putting aside +plainness, and want of attraction, and that sort of thing, do you think +any man would find me a helpmeet?' + +'He must be the right sort of man, of course,'--'a direct opposite to +you in everything,' she was about to add, but checked herself. + +'But if the right sort is not to be found, Aunt Milly?' with a touch of +quaintness that at times tinged her gravity with humour. 'Didn't you +know "Much-Afraid" was an old maid?' + +'We must get rid of all these old names, Olive; they will not fit now.' + +'All the same, of course I know these things are not possible with me. +Imagine being a wet blanket to a man all his life! But what I was going +to say was, that if any one cared for me as Rex does for Polly, I should +think it the next solemn thing to death--quite as beautiful and not so +terrible. Fancy,' warming with the visionary subject, 'just fancy, Aunt +Milly, being burdened with the whole happiness and well-being of +another--never to think alone again!' + +'Dear Olive, you cannot expect all lovers to indulge in these +metaphysics; commonplace minds remain commonplace--the Divinities are +silent within them.' + +'I think this is why I dislike the subject introduced into general +conversation,' replied Olive, pondering heavily over her words; 'people +are for ever dragging it in. So-and-so is to be married next week, and +then a long description of the bride's trousseau and the bridesmaids' +dresses; the idea is as paganish as the undertaker's plume of feathers +and mutes at a funeral.' + +'I agree with you there; people almost always treat the subject +coarsely, or in a matter-of-fact way. A wedding-show is a very pretty +thing to outsiders, but, like you, Olive, I have often marvelled at the +absence of all solemnity.' + +'I suppose it jars upon me more than on others because I dislike talking +on what interests me most. I think sacred things should be treated +sacredly. But how I am wandering on, and there was so much I wanted to +tell you!' + +'Never mind, I will hear it all to-morrow. I must not let you fatigue +yourself after such a journey. Now I will finish the unpacking while you +sit and rest yourself.' + +Olive was too docile and too really weary to resist. She sat silently +watching Mildred's brisk movements, till the puzzled look in the dark +eyes passed into drowsiness. + +'The Eternal voice,' she murmured, as she laid her head on the pillow, +and Mildred bade her good-night, 'it seems to lull one into rest, though +a tired child would sleep without rocking listening to it;' and so the +slow, majestic washing of the waves bore her into dreamland. + +Mildred did not find an opportunity of resuming the conversation until +the following afternoon, when Richard had planned a walk to Fairlight +Glen, in which Polly reluctantly joined; but Mildred, who knew Roy and +his father had much to say to each other, had insisted on not leaving +her behind. + +She was punished by having a very silent companion all the way, as +Richard had carried off Olive; but by and by Polly's conscience pricked +her for ill-humour and selfishness, and when they reached the Glen, her +hand stole into Mildred's muff with a penitent squeeze, and her spirits +rising with the exhilaration of the long walk, she darted off in pursuit +of Olive and brought her back, while she offered herself in her place to +Richard. + +'You have monopolised her all the way, and I know she is dying for a +talk with Aunt Milly; you must put up with me instead,' said the little +lady, defiantly. + +Mildred and Olive meanwhile seated themselves on one of the benches +overlooking the Glen; the spot was sheltered, and the air mild and soft +for January; there were patches of cloudy blue to be seen through the +leafless trees, which looked like a procession of gray, hoary skeletons +in the hazy light. + +'Woods have a beauty of their own in winter,' observed Mildred, as she +noticed Olive's satisfied glance round her. Visible beauty always rested +her, Olive often said. + +'Its attraction is the attraction of death,' returned her companion, +thoughtfully. 'Look at these old giants waiting for their resurrection, +to be "clothed upon," that is just the expression, Aunt Milly.' + +'With their dead hopes at their feet; you are teaching me to be +poetical, Olive. Don't you love the feeling of those crisp yellow leaves +crunching softly under one's feet? I think a leaf-race in a high wind is +one of the most delicious things in nature.' + +'Ask Cardie what he thinks of that.' + +'Cardie would say we are talking highflown nonsense. I can never make +him share my admiration for that soft gray light one sees in winter. I +remember we were walking over Hillsbottom one lovely February afternoon; +the shades of the landscape were utterly indescribable, half light, and +yet so softly blended, the gray tone of the buildings was absolutely +warm--that intense grayness--and all I could get him to say was, that +Kirkby Stephen was a very ugly town.' + +'Roy is more sympathetic about colours; Cardie likes strong contrasts, +decided sunsets, better than the glimmering of moonlight nights; he can +be enthusiastic enough over some things. I have heard him talk +beautifully to Ethel.' + +'By the bye, you have told me nothing of her. Is she still away?' + +'Yes, but they are expecting her back this week or next. It seems such a +pity Kirkleatham is so often empty. Mrs. Delaware says it is quite a +loss to the place.' + +'It is certainly very unsatisfactory; but now about your work, Olive; +how does it progress?' + +Olive hesitated. 'I will talk to you about that presently; there is +something else that may interest you to hear. Do you know Mr. Marsden is +thinking of leaving us?' + +Mildred uttered an expression of surprise and disappointment. 'Oh, I +hope it is not true!' she reiterated, in a regretful tone. + +'You say that because you do not know,' returned Olive, with her wonted +soft seriousness; 'he has told me everything. Only think, Aunt Milly, he +asked my advice, and really seemed to think I could help him to a +decision. Fancy my helping any one to decide a difficult question,' with +a smile that seemed to cover deeper feelings. + +'Why not? it only means that he has recognised your earnestness and +thorough honesty of purpose. There is nothing like honesty to inspire +confidence, Olive. I am sure you would help him to a very wise +decision.' + +'I think he had already decided for himself before he came to me,' +returned the girl, meditatively; 'one can always tell when a man has +made up his mind to do a thing. You see he has always felt an +inclination for missionary work, and this really seems a direct call.' + +'You forget you have not enlightened me on the subject,' hinted Mildred, +gently. + +'How stupid of me, but I will begin from the beginning. Mr. Marsden told +me one morning that he had had letters from his uncle, Archdeacon +Champneys, one of the most energetic workers in the Bloemfontein +Mission. You have read all about it, Aunt Milly, in the quarterly +papers. Don't you recollect how interested we all were about it?' + +'Yes, I remember. Richard seemed quite enthusiastic about it.' + +'Well, the Archdeacon wrote that they were in pressing need of clergy. +Look, I have the letter with me. Mr. Marsden said I might show it to +you. He has marked the passage that has so impressed him.' + + 'I am at my wits' end to know how to induce clergy to come out. + Do you know of any priest who would come to our help? If you + do, for God's sake use your influence to induce him to come. + + 'We want help for the Diamond Fields; Theological College + Brotherhood at Middleport; Itinerating work; Settled Parochial + work at Philippolis and elsewhere. + + 'We want men with strong hearts and active, healthy frames--men + with the true missionary spirit--with fixedness of will and + undaunted purpose, ready to battle against obstacles, and to + endure peacefully the "many petty, prosaic, commonplace, and + harassing trials" that beset a new work. If you know such an + one, bid him Godspeed, and help him to find his way to us. I + promise you we shall see his face as the "face of an angel."' + +'A pressing appeal,' sighed Mildred; she experienced a vague regret she +hardly understood. + +'Mr. Marsden felt it to be such. Oh, I wish you had heard him talk. He +said, as a boy he had always felt a drawing to this sort of work; that +with his health and strength and superabundant energies he was fitter +for the rough life of the colonies than for the secondary and +supplementary life of an ordinary English curate. "Give me plenty of +space and I could do the work of three men," and as he said it he +stretched out his arms. You know his way, Aunt Milly, that makes one +feel how big and powerful he is.' + +'He may be right, but how we shall miss him,' returned Mildred, who had +a thorough respect and liking for big, clumsy Hugh. + +'Not more than he will miss us, he says. He will have it we have done +him so much good; but there is one thing he feels, that Richard will +soon be able to take his place. In any case he will not go until the +autumn, not then if his mother be still alive.' + +'Is he still so hopeless about her condition?' + +'How can he be otherwise, Aunt Milly, when the doctor tells him it is +only a question of time. Did you hear that he has resigned all share in +the little legacy that has lately come to them? He says it will make +them so comfortable that they will not need to keep their little school +any longer; is it not good of him?' went on Olive, warming into +enthusiasm. + +'I think he has done the right thing, just what I should have expected +him to do. And so you have strengthened him in his decision, Olive?' + +'How could I help it?' she returned, simply. 'Can there be any life so +noble, so self-denying? I told him once that I envied him, and he looked +so pleased, and then the tears came into his eyes, and he seemed as +though he wanted to say something, but checked himself. Do you know,' +drooping her head and speaking in a deprecating tone, 'that hearing him +talk like this made me feel dissatisfied with myself and--and my work?' + +'Poor little nightingale! you would rather be a working bee,' observed +Mildred, smiling. This was the meaning then of the shadowed brightness +she had noticed last night. + +'No, but somehow I could not help feeling his work was more real. The +very self-sacrifice it involves sets it apart in a higher place, and +then the direct blessing, Aunt Milly,' with an effort. 'What good does +my poetry do to any one but myself?' + +'St. Paul speaks of the diversities of gifts,' returned Mildred, +soothingly. She saw that daily contact with perfect health and intense +vitality and usefulness had deadened the timid and imaginative forces +that worked beneath the surface in the girl's mind; a warped sense of +duty or fear from the legions of her old enemies had beset her pleasure +with sick loathing--for some reason or other Olive's creative work had +lain idle. + +'Do you recollect the talent laid up in the napkin, Olive?' + +'But if it should not be a talent, rather a temptation,' whispered the +girl, under her breath. 'No, I cannot believe it is that, after all, +Aunt Milly, only I have got weary about it. Have I not chosen the work I +liked best--the easiest, the most attractive?' + +'Do you think a repulsive service would please our beneficent Creator +best?' + +Olive was silent. Were the old shadows creeping round her again? + +'Your work just now seems very small by the side of Mr. Marsden's. His +vocation and consecration to a new work in some way, and by comparison, +overshadows yours; perhaps, unconsciously, his words have left an +unfavourable impression; you know how sensitive you are, Olive.' + +'He never imagined that they could influence me.' + +'No, he is the kindest-hearted being in the world, and would not +willingly damp any one, but all the same he might unconsciously vaunt +his work before your eyes; but before we decide on the reality or +unreality of your talent, I want to recall something to your mind that +this same good Bishop of Bloemfontein said in his paper on women's work. +I remember how greatly I was struck with it. His exact words, as far as +I can remember them, were--"that work--missionary work--demands fair +health, unshattered nerves, and that general equableness of spirits +which so largely depends upon the physical state. A morbid mind or +conscience" (mark that, Olive) "is unfit for the work."' + +'But, Aunt Milly,' blushing slightly, 'I never meant that I thought +myself fit for mission work. You do not think that I would ever leave +papa?' + +'No, but a certain largeness of view may help us to exorcise the uneasy +demon that is harassing you. You may not have Bloemfontein in your +thoughts, but you may be trying to work yourself into the belief that +God may be better pleased if you immolate your favourite and peculiar +talent and devote yourself to some repugnant ministry of good works +where you would probably do more harm than good.' + +'I confess some such thoughts as these have been troubling me.' + +'I read them in your eyes. So genius is given for no purpose but to be +thrown aside like a useless toy. What a degradation of a sacred thing! +How could you be such a traitor to your own order, Olive? This +vacillating mood of yours makes me ashamed.' + +'I wish you would scold me out of it, Aunt Milly; you are doing me good +already. Any kind of doubt makes me positively unhappy, and I really did +begin to believe that I had mistaken my vocation.' + +'Olive will always be Olive as long as she lives,' returned Mildred, in +a grieved tone; but as the girl shrank back somewhat pained, she +hastened to say--'I think doubtfulness--the inward tremblings of the +fibres of hope and fear--are your peculiar temptation. How would you +repel any evil suggestion that came to you, Olive--any unmistakably bad +thought, I mean?' + +'I would try and shut my mind to it, not look at it,' replied Olive, +warmly. + +'Repel it with disdain. Well, I think I should deal with your doubts in +the same way; if they will not yield after a good stand-up fight, +entrench yourself in your citadel and shut the door on them. Every work +of God is good, is it not?' + +'The Bible says so.' + +'Then yours must be good, since He has given you the power and delight +in putting together beautiful thoughts for the pleasure and, I trust, +the benefit of His creatures, and especially as you have dedicated it to +His service. What if after all you are right?' she continued, presently, +'and if it be not the very highest work, can you not be among "the +little ones" that do His will? Will not this present duty and care for +your father and the small daily charities that lie on your threshold +suffice until a more direct call be given to you? It may come--I do not +say it will not, Olive; but I am sure that the present work is your duty +now.' + +'You have lifted a burden off me,' returned Olive, gratefully, and there +was something in the clear shining of her eyes that echoed the truth of +her words; 'it was not that I loved my work less, but that I tried not +to love it. I like what you said, Aunt Milly, about being one of "His +little ones."' + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +'YES' + + 'Some one came and rested there beside me, + Speaking words I never thought would bless + Such a loveless life. I longed to hide me, + Feasting lonely on my happiness. + But the voice I heard + Pleaded for a word, + Till I gave my whispered answer, "Yes!" + + 'Yes, that little word, so calmly spoken, + Changed all life for me--my own--my own! + All the cold gray spell I saw unbroken, + All the twilight days seemed past and gone. + And how warm and bright, + In the ruddy light, + Pleasant June days of the future shone!' + + Helen Marion Burnside. + + +It was with mingled feelings of pleasure and regret that Mildred saw the +gray walls of the vicarage again. It was harder than she imagined to say +good-bye to Roy, knowing that she would not see him again until the +summer, but her position as nurse had long become a sinecure; the place +was now rightfully usurped by his young betrothed. The sea-breezes had +already proved so beneficial to his health, that it was judged that he +might safely be permitted at the end of another month to resume work in +the old studio, by which time idleness and love-making might be expected +to lose their novelty, and Mildred hoped that Polly would settle down +happily with the others, when her good sense should be convinced that an +early marriage would be prejudicial to Roy's interest. + +It was very strange to find Chriss the only welcoming home +presence--Chriss in office was a highly ludicrous idea. She had taken +advantage of her three days' housekeeping to introduce striking reforms +in the _ménage_, against which Nan had stormed and threatened in vain; +the housemaid looked harassed, and the parlour-maid on the eve of giving +warning; the little figure with the touzled curls and holland apron, and +rattling keys, depending from the steel chatelaine, looked oddly +picturesque in the house porch as the travellers drove up. When Mr. +Marsden came in after even-song to inquire after their well-being, and +Richard insisted on his remaining to tea, Chriss looked mightily haughty +and put on her eye-glasses, and presided at the head of the table in a +majestic way that tried her aunt's gravity. 'The big young man,' as she +still phrased Hugh Marsden, was never likely to be a favourite with +Chriss; but she thawed presently under Mildred's genial influence; no +one knew so well how to bend the prickles, and draw out the wholesome +sweetness that lay behind. By the end of the third cup, Chriss was able +to remember perfectly that Mr. Marsden did not take sugar, and could +pass his cup without a glacial stare or a tendency to imitate the +swelling and ruffling out of a dignified robin. + +At the end of the evening, Mildred, who had by that time grown a little +weary and silent, heard the footstep in the lobby for which she had been +unconsciously listening for the last two hours. + +'Here comes Dr. John at last,' observed Richard, in strange echo of her +thought. 'I expected he would have met us at the station, but I suppose +he was called away as usual.' + +Dr. Heriot gave no clue to his absence. He shook hands very quietly with +Mildred, and hoped that she was not tired, and then turned to Richard +for news of the invalid; and when that topic was exhausted, seemed +disposed to relapse into a brown study, from which Mildred curiously did +not care to wake him. + +She was quite content to see him sitting there in his old place, playing +absently with her paper-knife, and dropping a word here and there, but +oftener listening to the young men's conversation. Hugh was eagerly +discussing the Bloemfontein question. He and Richard had been warmly +debating the subject for the last hour. Richard was sympathetic, but he +had a notion his friend was throwing himself away. + +'We don't want to lose such men as you out of England, Marsden, that's +the fact. I have always looked upon you as just the sort of hard worker +for a parish at the East end of London. Look at our city Arabs; it +strikes me there is room for missionary work there--not but what South +Africa has a demand on us too.' + +'When a man feels he has a call, there is nothing more to be said,' +replied Hugh, striking himself energetically on his broad chest, and +speaking in his most powerful bass. 'One has something to give up, of +course; all colonial careers involve a degree of hardship and +self-sacrifice; not that I agree with your sister in thinking either the +one or the other point to the right decision. Because we may consider it +our duty to undertake a pilgrimage, it does not follow we need have +pebbles or peas in our shoes, or that the stoniest road is the most +direct.' + +'Of course not.' + +'We don't need these by-laws to guide us; there's plenty of hardship +everywhere, and I hope no amount would frighten me from any work I +undertake conscientiously. It may be pleasanter to remain in England. I +am rather of your opinion myself; but, all the same, when a man feels he +has a call----' + +'I should be the last to dissuade him from it; I only want you to look +at the case in all its bearing. I believe after all you are right, and +that I should do the same in your place.' + +'One ought never to decide too hastily for fear of regretting it +afterwards,' put in Dr. Heriot. Mildred gave him a half-veiled glance. +Why was he so quiet and abstracted, she wondered? Another time he would +have entered with animation into the subject, but now some grave thought +sealed his lips. Could it be that Polly's decision had had more effect +on him than he had chosen to avow--that he felt lonely and out of +spirits? She watched timidly for some opportunity of testing her fears; +she was almost sure that he was dull or troubled about something. + +'Some people are so afraid of deciding wrong that they seldom arrive at +any decision at all,' returned Hugh, with one of his great laughs. + +'All the same, over-haste brings early repentance,' returned Dr. Heriot, +a little bitterly, as he rose. + +'Are you going?' asked Mildred, feeling disappointed by the shortness of +his visit. + +'I am poor company to-night,' he returned, hastily. 'I am in no mood for +general talk. I daresay I shall see you some time to-morrow. By the bye, +how is it Polly has never answered my last letter?' + +'She has sent a hundred apologies. I assure you, she is thoroughly +ashamed of herself; but Roy is such a tyrant, the child has not an hour +to herself.' + +A smile broke over his face. 'I suppose not; it must be very amusing to +watch them. Roy runs a chance of being completely spoiled;' but this +Mildred would not allow. + +She went to bed feeling dissatisfied with herself for her +dissatisfaction. After all, what did she expect? He had behaved just as +any other man would have behaved in his position; he had been perfectly +kind and friendly, had questioned her about her health, and had spoken +of the length of her journey with a proper amount of sympathy. It must +have been some fancy of hers that he had evaded her eyes. After all, +what right had she to meddle with his moods, or to be uneasy because of +his uneasiness? Was not this the future she had planned? a fore-taste of +the long evenings, when the gray-haired friend should quietly sit beside +her, either speaking or silent, according to his will. + +Mildred scolded herself into quietness before she slept. After all, +there was comfort in the thought of seeing him the next day; but this +hope was doomed to be frustrated. Dr. Heriot did not make his +appearance; he sent an excuse by Richard, whom he carried off with him +to Nateby and Winton; an old college friend was coming to dine with him, +and Richard and Hugh Marsden were invited to meet him. Mildred found her +_tźte-ą-tźte_ evening with Chriss somewhat harassing, and would have +gladly taken refuge in silence and a book; but Chriss had begged so hard +to read a portion of the translation of a Greek play on which she was +engaged that it was impossible to refuse, and a noisy hour of +declamation and uncertain utterance, owing to the illegibility of the +manuscript and the screeching remonstrances of Fritter-my-wig, whose +rightful rest was invaded, soon added the discomfort of a nervous +headache to Mildred's other pains and penalties; and when Chriss, +flushed and panting, had arrived at the last blotted page, she had +hardly fortitude enough to give the work all the praise it merited. The +quiet of her own room was blissful by comparison, though it brought with +it a fresh impulse of tormenting thoughts. Why was it that, with all her +strength of will, she had made so little progress; that the man was +still so dangerously dear to her; that even without a single hope to +feed her, he should still be the sum and substance of her thoughts; that +all else should seem as nothing in comparison with his happiness and +peace of mind? + +That he was far from peace she knew; her first look at him had assured +her of that. And the knowledge that it was so had wrought in her this +strange restlessness. Would he ever bring himself to speak to her of +this fresh blank in his existence? If it should be so, she would bid him +go away for a little time; in some way his life was too monotonous for +him; he must seek fresh interests for himself; the vicarage must no +longer inclose his only friends. He had often spoken to her of his love +for travel, and had more than once hinted at a desire to revisit the +Continent; why should she not persuade him that a holiday lay within the +margin of his duty; she would willingly endure his absence, if he would +only come back brighter and fresher for his work. + +Fate had, however, decreed that Mildred's patience should be sorely +tested, for though she looked eagerly for his coming all the next day, +the opportunity for which she longed did not arrive. Dr. Heriot still +held aloof, and the word in season could not be spoken. The following +day was Sunday, but even then things were hardly more satisfactory; a +brief hand-shake in the porch after evening service, and an inquiry +after Roy, was all that passed between them. + +'He is beyond any poor comfort that I can give him,' thought Mildred, +sorrowfully, as she groped her way through the dark churchyard paths. +'He looks worn and harassed, but he means to keep his trouble to +himself. I will try to put it all out of my head; it ought to be nothing +to me what he feels or suffers,' and she lay awake all night trying to +put this prudent resolve into execution. + +The next afternoon she walked over to Nateby to look up some of her old +Sunday scholars. It was a mild, wintry afternoon; a gray haziness +pervaded everything. As she passed the bridge she lingered for a moment +to look down below on the spot which was now so sacred to her; the sight +of the rocks and foaming water made her cover her face with a mute +thanksgiving. Imagination could not fail to reproduce the scene. Again +she felt herself crashing amongst the cruel stones, and saw the black, +sullen waters below her. 'Oh, why was I saved? to what end--to what +purpose?' she gasped, and then added penitently, 'Surely not to be +discontented, and indulge in impossible fancies, but to devote a rescued +life to the good of others.' + +Mildred was so occupied with these painful reflections that she did not +hear carriage-wheels passing in the road below the bridge, and was +unaware that Dr. Heriot had descended and thrown the reins to a passing +lad, and was now making his way towards her. + +His voice in her ear drove the blood to her heart with the sudden start +of surprise and pleasure. + +'We always seem fated to meet in this place,' he laughed, feigning not +to notice her embarrassment, but embarrassed himself by it. 'Coop Kernan +Hole must have a secret attraction for both of us. I find myself always +driving slowly over the bridge, as though I were following a friend's +possible funeral.' + +'As you might have done,' she returned, with a grateful glance that +completed her sentence. + +'Shall we go down and look at it more closely?' he asked, after a +moment's silence, during which he had revolved some thought in his mind. +'I have an odd notion that seeing it again may lay the ghost of an +uneasy dream that always haunts me. After a harder day's work than +usual, this scene is sure to recur to me at night; sometimes I have to +leave you there, you have floated so far out of my reach,' with a +meaning movement of his hand. Mildred shuddered. + +'Shall we come--that is--if you do not much dislike the idea,' and as +Mildred saw no reason for refusing, she overcame her feelings of +reluctance, and followed him through the little gate, and down the steep +steps beyond which lay the uneven masses of gray brockram. There he +waited for her with outstretched hand. + +'You need not think that I shall trust you to your own care again,' he +said, with rather a whimsical smile, but as he felt the trembling that +ran through hers, it vanished, and he became unusually grave. In another +moment he checked her abruptly, and almost peremptorily. 'We will not go +any farther; your hand is not steady enough, you are nervous.' Mildred +in vain assured him to the contrary; he insisted that she should sit +down for a few moments, and, in spite of her protestations, took off his +great-coat and spread it on the rock. 'I am warm, far too warm,' he +asserted, when he saw her looks of uneasiness. 'This spot is so +sheltered;' and he stood by her and lifted his hat, as though the cool +air refreshed him. + +'Do you remember our conversation on the other side of the bridge?' he +asked presently, turning to her. Mildred flushed with sudden pain--too +well she remembered it, and the long night of struggle and well-nigh +despair that had followed it. + +'I wonder what you thought of me; you were very quiet, very sweet-voiced +in your sympathy; but I fancied your eyes had a distrustful gleam in +them; they seemed to doubt the wisdom of my choice. Mildred,' with a +quick touch of passion in his voice such as she had never heard before, +'what a fool you must have thought me!' + +'Dr. Heriot, how can you say such things?' but her heart beat faster; he +had called her Mildred again. + +'Because I must and will say them. A man must call himself names when he +has made such a pitiful thing of life. Look at my marrying Margaret--a +mistake from beginning to end; and yet I must needs compass a second +piece of folly.' + +'There, I think you are too hard on yourself.' + +'What right had I at my age, or rather with my experience and knowledge +of myself, to think I could make a young girl happy, knowing, as I ought +to have known, that her endearing ways could not win her an entrance +into the deepest part of my nature--that would have been closed for +ever,' speaking in a suppressed voice. + +'It was a mistake for which no one could blame you--Polly least of all,' +she returned, eager to soothe this wounded susceptibility. + +'Dear Polly, it was her little fingers that set me free--that set both +of us free. Coop Kernan Hole would have taught me its lesson too late +but for her.' + +'What do you mean?' asked Mildred, startled, and trying to get a glimpse +of his face; but he had turned it from her; possibly the uncontrolled +muscles and the flash of the eye might have warned her without a word. + +'What has it taught you?' she repeated, feeling she must get to the +bottom of this mystery, whatever it might cost her. + +'That it was not Polly whom I loved,' he returned, in a suppressed +voice, 'but another whom I might have lost--whom Coop Kernan Hole might +have snatched from me. Did you know this, Mildred?' + +'No,' she faltered. 'I do not believe it now,' she might have added if +breath had not failed her. In her exceeding astonishment, to think such +words had blessed her ear, it was impossible--oh, it was impossible--she +must hear more. + +'I am doubly thankful to it,' he repeated, stooping over her as she sat, +that the fall might not drown his voice; 'its dark waters are henceforth +glorified to me. Never till that day did I know what you were to me; +what a blank my life would be to me without you. It has come to +this--that I cannot live without you, Mildred--that you are to me what +no other woman, not even Margaret, not even my poor wife, has been to +me.' + +She buried her face in her trembling hands. Not even to him could she +speak, until the pent-up feelings in her heart had resolved themselves +into an inward cry, 'My God, for this--for these words--I thank thee!' + +He watched her anxiously, as though in doubt of her emotion. Love was +making him timid. After all, could he have misunderstood her words? 'Do +not speak to me yet. I do not ask it; I do not expect it,' he said, +touching her hand to make her look at him. 'You shall give me your +answer when you like--to-morrow--a week hence--you shall have time to +think of it. By and by I must know what you have for me in return, and +whether my blindness and mistake have alienated you, but I will not ask +it now.' He moved from her a few steps, and came hurriedly back; but +Mildred, still pale from uncontrollable feeling, would not raise her +eyes. 'I may be wrong in thinking you cared for me a little. Do you +remember what you said? "John, save me!" Mildred, I do not deserve it; I +have brought it all on myself, and I will try and be patient; but when +you can come to me and say, "John, I love you; I will be your wife," you +will remove a mountain-load of doubt and uncertainty. Ah, Mildred, +Mildred, will you ever be able to say it?' His emotion, his sensitive +doubts, had overmastered him; he was as deadly pale as the woman he +wooed. Again he turned away, but this time she stopped him. + +'Why need you wait? you must know I----,' but here the soft voice +wavered and broke down; but he had heard enough. + +'What must I know?--that you love me?' + +'Yes,' was all her answer; but she raised her eyes and looked at him, +and he knew then that the great loneliness of his life was gone for +ever. + +And Mildred, what were her thoughts as she sat with her lover beside +her, looking down at the sunless pool before them? here, where she had +grappled with death, the crowning glory of her life was given to her, +the gray colourless hues had faded out of existence, the happiness for +which she had not dared to ask, which the humble creature had not +whispered even in her prayers, had come to her, steeping her soul with +wondrous content and gratitude. + +And out of her happiness came a great calm. For a little while neither +of them spoke much, but the full understanding of that sacred silence +lay like a pure veil between them. They were neither young, both had +known the mystery of suffering--the man held in his heart a dreary past, +and Mildred's early life had been passed in patient waiting; but what +exuberance of youthful joy could equal the quietude of their entire +satisfaction? + +'Mildred, it seems to me that I must have loved you unconsciously +through it all,' he said, presently, when their stillness had spent +itself; 'somehow you always rested me. It had grown a necessity with me +to come and tell you my troubles; the very sound of your voice soothed +me.' + +One of her beautiful smiles answered him. She knew he was right, and she +had been more to him than he had guessed. Had not this consciousness +added the bitterest ingredient to her misery, the knowledge that he was +deceiving himself, that no one could give him what was in her power to +give? + +'But I never thought it possible until lately that you could care enough +for me,' he continued; 'you seemed so calm, so beyond this sort of +earthly passion. Ah, Mildred,' half-gravely, half-caressingly, 'how +could you mislead me so? All my efforts to break down that quiet reserve +seemed in vain.' + +'I thought it right; how could I guess it would ever come to this?' she +answered, blushing. 'I can hardly believe it now'; but the answer to +this was so full and satisfactory that Mildred's last lingering doubt +was dispelled for ever. + +It was late in the afternoon when they parted at the vicarage gate; the +dark figure in the wintry porch escaped their observation in the +twilight, and so the last good-bye fell on Ethel Trelawny's astonished +ear. + +'It is not good-bye after all, Mildred; I shall see you again this +evening,' in Dr. Heriot's voice; 'take care of yourself, my dearest, +until then;' and the long hand-clasp that followed his words spoke +volumes. + +When Mildred entered the drawing-room she gave a little start at the +sight of Ethel. The girl held out her hand to her with a strange smile. + +'Mildred, I was there and heard it. What he called you, I mean. +Darling--darling, I am so glad,' breaking off with a half-sob and +suddenly closing her in her arms. + +For a moment Mildred seemed embarrassed. + +'Dear Ethel, what do you mean? what could you have heard?' + +'That he called you by your name. I heard his voice; it was quite +enough; it told me everything, and then I closed the door. Oh, Mildred! +to think he has come to an end of his blindness and that he loves you at +last.' + +'Yes; does it not seem wonderful?' returned Mildred, simply. Her fair +face was still a little flushed, her eyes were soft and radiant; in her +happiness she looked almost lovely. Ethel knelt down beside her in a +little effusion of girlish worship and sympathy. + +'Did he tell you how beautiful you are, Mildred? No, you shall let me +talk what nonsense I like to-night. I do not know when I have felt so +happy. Does Richard know?' + +'No one knows.' + +'Am I the first to wish you joy then, Mildred? I never was so glad about +anything before. I could sing aloud in my gladness all the way from here +to Kirkleatham.' + +'Dear Ethel, this is so like you.' + +'To think of the misery of mind you have both caused me, and now that it +has come all right at last. Is he very penitent, Mildred?' + +'He is very happy,' she replied, smiling over the girl's enthusiasm. + +'How sweetly calm you look. I should not feel so in your place. I should +be pining for my lost liberty, I verily believe. How long have you +understood each other? Ever since Roy and Polly have come to their +senses?' + +'No, indeed; only this afternoon.' + +'Only this afternoon?' incredulously. + +'Yes; but it seems ages ago already. Ethel, you must not mind if I +cannot talk much about this; it is all so new, you see.' + +'Ah, I understand.' + +'I knew how pleased you would be, you always appreciated him so; at one +time I could have sooner believed you the object of his choice; till you +assured me otherwise,' smoothing the wavy ripples of hair over Ethel's +white forehead. + +'Women do not often marry their heroes; Dr. Heriot was my hero,' laughed +the girl. 'I chose you for him the first day I saw you, when you came to +meet me, looking so graceful in your deep mourning; your face and mild +eyes haunted me, Mildred. I believe I fell in love with you then.' + +'Hush, here comes Richard,' interrupted Mildred softly, and Ethel +instantly became grave and rose to her feet. + +But for once he hardly seemed to see her. + +'Aunt Milly, my dear Aunt Milly,' he exclaimed, with unusual warmth, 'do +you know what a little bird has told me?' he whispered, stooping his +handsome head to kiss her. + +'Oh, Cardie! do you know already? Have you met him?' + +'Yes, and he will be here presently. Aunt Milly, I don't know what we +are to do without you, but all the same Dr. John shall have you. He is +the only man who is worthy of Aunt Milly.' + +'There, that will do, you have not spoken to Ethel yet.' + +Oh, how Mildred longed to be alone with her thoughts, and yet the sound +of her lover's praises were very sweet to her; he was Richard's hero as +well as Ethel's, she knew, but with Richard's entrance Ethel seemed to +think she must be going. + +'It is so late now, but I will come again to-morrow;' and then as +Mildred bade her good-night she said another word or two of her +exceeding gladness. + +She would fain have declined Richard's escort, but he offered her no +excuse. She found him waiting for her at the gate, and knew him too well +to hope for her own way in this. She could only be on her guard and +avoid any dangerous subject. + +'You will all miss her dreadfully,' she said, as they crossed the +market-place in full view of Dr. Heriot's house. 'I don't think any of +you can estimate the blank her absence will leave at the vicarage.' + +'I can for one,' he replied, gravely. 'Do you think I can easily forget +what she has done for us since our mother died? But we shall not lose +her--not entirely, I mean.' + +'No, indeed.' + +'Humanly speaking I think their chances of happiness are greater than +that of any one. I know that they are so admirably suited to each other. +Aunt Milly will give him just the rest he needs.' + +'I should not be surprised if he will forget all his bitter past then. +But, Richard, I want to speak to you; you have not seen my father +lately?' + +'Not for months,' he replied, startled at the change in her tone; all at +once it took a thin, harassed note. + +'He has decided to stand for the Kendal election, though more than one +of his best friends have prophesied a certain defeat. Richard, I cannot +help telling you that I dread the result.' + +'You must try not to be uneasy,' he returned, with that unconscious +softening in his voice that made it almost caressing. 'You must know by +this time how useless it is to try to shake his purpose.' + +'Yes, I know that,' she returned, dejectedly; 'but all the same I feel +as though he were contemplating suicide. He is throwing away time and +money on a mere chimera, for they say the Radical member will be +returned to a certainty. If he should be defeated'--pausing in some +emotion. + +'Oh, he must take his chance of that.' + +'You do not know; it will break him down entirely. He has set his heart +on this thing, and it will go badly with both of us if he be +disappointed. Last night it was dreadful to hear him talk. More than +once he said that failure would be social death to him. It breaks my +heart to see him looking so ill and yet refusing any sympathy that one +can offer him.' + +'Yes, I understand; if I could only help you,' he returned, in a +suppressed voice. + +'No one can do that--it has to be borne,' was the dreary answer; and +just then the lodge gates of Kirkleatham came in sight. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +JOHN HERIOT'S WIFE + + 'Whose sweet voice + Should be the sweetest music to his ear, + Awaking all the chords of harmony; + Whose eye should speak a language to his soul + More eloquent than all that Greece or Rome + Could boast of in its best and happiest days; + Whose smile should be his rich reward for toil; + Whose pure transparent cheek pressed to his + Would calm the fever of his troubled thoughts, + And woo his spirits to those fields Elysian, + The Paradise which strong affection guards.' + + Bethune. + + +And so when her youth was passed Mildred Lambert found the great +happiness of her life, and prepared herself to be a noble helpmeet to +the man to whom unconsciously she had long given her heart. + +This time there were no grave looks, no dissentient voice questioning +the wisdom of Dr. Heriot's choice; a sense of fitness seemed to satisfy +the most fastidious taste; neither youth nor beauty were imperative in +such a case. Mildred's gentleness was the theme of every tongue. Her +tender, old-fashioned ways were discovered now to be wonderfully +attractive; a hundred instances of her goodness and unselfishness +reached her lover's ears. + +'Every one seems to have fallen in love with you, Mildred,' he said to +her one sweet spring evening when he had crossed the market-place for +his accustomed evening visit. Mildred was alone as usual; the voices of +the young people sounded from the terrace; Olive and Richard were +talking together; Polly was leaning against the wall reading a letter +from Roy; the evening sun streamed through the window on Mildred's soft +brown hair and gray silk, on the great bowls of golden primroses, on the +gay tints of the china; a little green world lay beyond the bay window, +undulating waves of grass, a clear sparkle of water, dim blue mists and +lines of shadowy hills. + +Mildred lifted her quiet eyes; their smiling depths seemed to hold a +question and reproof. + +'Every one thinks it their duty to praise you to me,' he continued, in +the same amused tone; 'they are determined to enlighten me about the +goodness of my future wife. They do not believe how well I know that +already,' with a strange glistening in his eyes. + +'Please do not talk so, John,' she whispered. 'I should not like you to +think too well of me, for fear I should, ever disappoint you.' + +'Do you believe that would be possible?' he asked, reproachfully. + +Then she gave him one of her lovely smiles. + +'No, I do not,' she returned, simply; 'because, though we love each +other, we do not believe each other perfect. You have often called me +self-willed, John, and I daresay you are right.' + +He laughed a little at that; her quaint gentleness had often amused him; +he knew he should always hear the truth from her. She would tell him of +her faults over and over again, and he would listen to them gravely and +pretend to believe them rather than wound her exquisite susceptibility; +but to himself he declared that she had no flaw--that she was the +dearest, the purest, a pearl among women. Mildred would have shrunk in +positive pain and humility if she had known the extravagant standard to +which he had raised her. + +Sometimes he would crave to know her opinion of him in return. Like many +men, he was morbidly sensitive on this point, and was inclined to take +blame to himself where he did not deserve it, and she would point out +his errors to him in the simplest way, and so that the most delicate +self-consciousness could not have been hurt. + +'What, all those faults, Mildred?' he would say, with a pretence at a +sigh. 'I thought love was blind.' + +'I could never be blind about anything that concerns you, John,' she +would return, in the sweetest voice possible; 'our faults will only bind +us all the closer to each other. Is not that what helpmeet means?' she +went on, a soft gravity stealing over her words,--'that I should try to +help you in everything, even against yourself? I always see faults +clearest in those I love best,' she finished, somewhat shyly. + +'The last is the saving clause,' he replied, with a look that made her +blush. 'In this case I shall have no objection to be told of my +wrong-doings every day of my life. What a blessing it is that you have +common sense enough for both. I am obliged to believe what you tell me +about yourself of course, and mean to act up to my part of our contract, +but at present I am unable to perceive the most distant glimmer of a +fault.' + +'John!' + +'Seriously and really, Mildred, I believe you to be as near perfection +as a living woman can be,' and when Dr. Heriot spoke in this tone +Mildred always gave up the argument with a sigh. + +But with all her self-accusations Mildred promised to be a most +submissive wife. Already she proved herself docile to her lover's +slightest wish. She did not even remonstrate when Dr. Heriot pleaded +with her brother and herself that an early day should be fixed for the +marriage; for herself she could have wished a longer delay, but he was +lonely and wanted her, and that was enough. + +Perhaps the decision was a little difficult when she thought of Olive, +but the time once fixed, there was no hesitation. She went about her +preparations with a quiet precision that made Dr. Heriot smile to +himself. + +'One would think you are planning for somebody else's wedding, not your +own,' he said once, when she came down to him with her face full of +gentle bustle; 'come and sit down a little; at least I have the right to +take care of you now, you precious woman.' + +'Yes; but, John, I am so busy; I have to think for them all, you know; +and Olive, poor girl, is so scared at the thought of her +responsibilities, and Richard is so occupied he cannot spare me time for +anything,' for Richard, now in deacon's orders, was working up the +parish under Hugh Marsden's supervision. Hugh had lost his mother, and +had finally yielded his great heart and strength to the South African +Mission. + +'But there is Polly?' observed Dr. Heriot. + +'Yes, there is Polly until Roy comes,' she returned, with a smile. 'She +is my right hand at present, until he monopolises her; but one has to +think for them all, and arrange things.' + +'You shall have no one but yourself to consider by and by,' was his +lover-like reply. + +'Oh, John, I shall only have time then to think of you!' was her quiet +answer. + +And so one sweet June morning, when the swathes and lines of new-mown +hay lay in the crofts round Kirkby Stephen, and while the little +rush-bearers were weaving their crowns for St. Peter's Day, and the +hedges were thick with the pink and pearly bloom of brier roses, Mildred +Heriot stood leaning on her husband's arm in St. Stephen's porch. + +Merrily the worn old bells were pealing out, the sunlight streamed +across the market-place, the churchyard paths, and the paved lanes, and +the windows of the houses abutting on the churchyard, were crowded with +sympathising faces. + +Not young nor beautiful, save to those who loved her; yet as she stood +there in her soft-eyed graciousness, many owned that they had never seen +a sweeter-faced bride. + +'My wife, is this an emblem of our future life?' whispered Dr. Heriot, +as he led her proudly down the path, almost hidden by the roses her +little scholars' hands had strewn; but Mildred's lip quivered, and the +pressure of her hand on his arm only answered him. + +'How had she deserved such happiness?' the humble soul was asking +herself even at this supreme moment. Under her feet lay the fast-fading +roses, but above and around spread the pure arc of central blue--the +everlasting arms of a Father's providence about her everywhere. Before +them was the gray old vicarage, now no longer her home, the soft violet +hills circling round it; above it a heavy snow-white cloud drooped +heavily, like a guardian angel in mid-air; roses, and sunlight, and +God's heavenly blue. + +'Oh, it is all so beautiful!--how is one to deserve such happiness?' she +thought; and then it came to her that this was a free gift, a loan, a +talent that the Father had given to be used for the Master's service, +and the slight trembling passed away, and the beautiful serene eyes +raised themselves to her husband's face with the meek trustfulness of +old. + +Mildred was not too much engrossed even in her happiness to notice that +Olive held somewhat aloof from her through the day. Now and then she +caught a glimpse of a weary, abstracted face. Just as she had finished +her preparations for departure, and the travelling carriage had driven +into the courtyard, she sent Ethel and Polly down on some pretext, and +went in search of her favourite. + +She found her in the lobby, sitting on the low window-seat, looking +absently at the scene below her. The courtyard of the vicarage looked +gay enough; the horses were champing their bits, and stamping on the +beck gravel; the narrow strip of daisy turf was crowded with moving +figures; Polly, in her pretty bridesmaid's dress, was talking to Roy; +Ethel stood near them, with Richard and Hugh Marsden; Dr. Heriot was in +the porch in earnest conversation with Mr. Lambert. Beyond lay the quiet +churchyard, shimmering in the sunlight; the white, crosses gleamed here +and there; the garlands of sweet-smelling flowers still strewed the +paths. + +'Dear Olive, are you waiting for me? I wanted just to say a last word or +two;' and Mildred sat down beside her in her rich dress, and took the +girl's listless hand in hers. 'Promise me, my child, that you will do +the best for yourself and them.' + +'It will be a poor best after you, Aunt Milly,' returned Olive, with a +grateful glance at the dear face that had been her comfort so long. It +touched her that even now she should be remembered; with an impulse that +was rare with her she put her arms round Mildred, and laid her face on +her shoulder. 'Aunt Milly, I never knew till to-day what you were to +me--to all of us.' + +'Am I not to be Aunt Milly always, then?' for there was something +ineffably sad in the girl's voice. + +'Yes, but we can no longer look to you for everything. We shall miss you +out of our daily life. I do not mean to be selfish, Aunt Milly. I love +to think of your happiness; but all the same I must feel as though +something has passed out of my life.' + +'I understand, dear. You know I never think you selfish, Olive. Now I +want you to do something for me--a promise you must make me on my +wedding-day.' + +A flickering smile crossed Olive's pale face. 'It must not be a hard +one, then.' + +'It is one you can easily keep,--promise me to try to bear your failures +hopefully. You will have many; perhaps daily ones. I am leaving you +heavy responsibilities, my poor child; but who knows? They may be +blessings in disguise.' + +An incredulous sigh answered her. + +'It will be your own fault if they do not prove so. When you fail, when +things go wrong, think of your promise to me, and be patient with +yourself. Say to yourself, "It is only one of Olive's mistakes, and she +will try to do better next time." Do you understand me, my dear?' + +'Yes, I will try, Aunt Milly.' + +'I am leaving you, my darling, with a confidence that nothing can shake. +I do not fear your goodness to others, only to this weary self,' with a +light caressing touch on the girl's bowed head and shoulders. 'Hitherto +you have leaned on me; I have been your crutch, Olive. Now you will rely +on yourself. You see I do not make myself miserable about leaving you. I +think even this is ordered for the best.' + +'Yes, I know. How dear of you to say all this! But I must not keep you. +Hark, they are calling you!' + +Mildred rose with a blush; she knew the light agile step on the stairs. +In another moment Dr. Heriot's dark face appeared. + +'They are waiting, Mildred; we have not a moment to lose. You must come, +my dear wife!' + +'One moment, John'; and as she folded the girl in a long embrace, she +whispered, 'God bless my Olive!' and then suffered him to lead her away. + +But when the last good-byes were said, and the carriage door was closed +by Richard, Mildred looked up and waved her hand towards the lobby +window. She could see the white dress and dusky halo of hair, the +drooping figure and tightly locked hands; but as the sound of the wheels +died away in the distance, Olive hid her face in her hands and prayed, +with a burst of tears, that the promise she had made might be faithfully +kept. + +An hour later, Richard found her still sitting there, looking spent and +weary, and took her out to walk with him. + +'The rest have all started for Podgill. We will follow them more +leisurely. The air will refresh us both, Olive;' stealing a glance at +the reddened eyelids, that told their own tale. Olive so seldom shed +tears, that the relief was almost a luxury to her. She felt less +oppressed now. + +'But Ethel--where is she, Cardie?' unwilling to let him sacrifice +himself for her pleasure. She little knew that Richard was carrying out +Mildred's last injunctions. + +'I leave Olive in your care; be good to her, Richard,' she had said as +he had closed the carriage door on her, and he had understood her and +given her an affirmative look. + +'Ethel has a headache, and has gone home,' he replied. 'She feels this +as much as any of us; she did not like breaking up the party, but I saw +how much she needed quiet, and persuaded her. She wants you to go up +there to-morrow and talk to her.' + +'But, Cardie,' stopping to look at him, 'I am sure you have a headache +too.' + +'So I have, and it is pretty bad, but I thought a walk would do us both +good, and we might as well be miserable together, to tell you the +truth,' with an attempt at a laugh. 'I can't stand the house without +Aunt Milly, and I thought you were feeling the same.' + +'Dear Cardie, how good of you to think of me at all,' returned Olive, +gratefully. Her brother's evident sympathy was already healing in its +effects. Just now she had felt so lonely, so forlorn, it made her better +to feel that he was missing Aunt Milly too. + +She looked up at him in her mild affectionate way as he walked beside +her. She thought, as she had often thought before, how well the +straitly-cut clerical garb became him--its severe simplicity suiting so +well the grave young face. How handsome, how noble he must look in +Ethel's eyes! + +'We are so used to have Aunt Milly thinking for us, that it will be hard +to think for ourselves,' she went on presently, when they were walking +down by the weir. 'You will have to put up with a great deal from me, +and to be very patient, though you are always that now, Cardie.' + +'Am I?' he returned, touched by her earnestness. Olive had always been +loyal to him, even when he had most neglected her; and he had neglected +her somewhat of late, he thought. 'I will tell you what we must do, +Livy; we must try to help each other, and to be more to each other than +we have been. You see Rex has Polly, but I have no one, not even Aunt +Milly now; at least we cannot claim her so much now.' + +'You have Ethel, Cardie.' + +'Yes, but not in the way I want,' he returned, the sensitive colour +flitting over his face. He could never hear or speak her name unmoved; +she was far more to him now than she had ever been, when he thought of +her less as the youthful goddess he had adored in his boyish days, than +as the woman he desired to have as his wife. He no longer cast a glamour +of his own devising over her image--faulty as well as lovable he knew +her to be; but all the same he craved her for his own. + +'Not one man in a hundred, not one in a thousand, would make her happy,' +he said more than once to himself; 'but it is because I believe myself +to be that man that I persevere. If I did not think this, I would take +her at her word and go on my way.' + +Now, as he answered Olive, a sadness crossed his face, and she saw it. +Might it not be that she could help him even here? He had talked about +his trouble to Aunt Milly, she knew. Could she not win him to some, +confidence in herself? Here was a beginning of the work Aunt Milly had +left her. + +'Dear Cardie, I should so like it if you would talk to me sometimes +about Ethel,' she said, hesitating, as though fearing how he would like +it. 'I know how often it makes you unhappy. I can always see just when +it is troubling you, but I never could speak of it before.' + +'Why not, Livy?' not abruptly, but questioning. + +'One is so afraid of saying the wrong things, and then you might not +have liked it,' stammering in her old way. + +'I must always like to talk of what is so dear to me,' he replied, +gravely. 'I could as soon blot out my own individuality, as blot out the +hope of seeing Ethel my future wife; and in that case, it were strange +indeed if I did not love to talk of her.' + +'Yes, and I have always felt as though it must come right in the end,' +interposed Olive, eagerly; 'her manner gives me that impression.' + +'What impression?' he asked, startled by her earnestness. + +'I can't help thinking she cares for you, though she does not know it; +at least she will not allow herself to know it. I have seen her draw +herself so proudly sometimes when you have left her. I am sure she is +hardening her heart against herself, Cardie.' + +A faint smile rose to his lips. 'Livy, who would have thought you could +have said such comforting things, just when I was losing heart too?' + +'You must never do that,' she returned, in an old-fashioned way that +amused him, and yet reminded him somehow of Mildred. 'Any one like you, +Cardie, ought never to lose courage.' + +'Courage, Coeur-de-Lion!' he returned, mimicking her tone more gaily +as his spirits insensibly rose under the sisterly flattery. 'God bless +her! she is worth waiting for; there is no other woman in the world to +me. Who would have thought we should have got on this subject to-day, of +all days in the year? but you have done me no end of good, Livy.' + +'Then I have done myself good,' she returned, simply; and indeed some +sweet hopeful influence seemed to have crept on her during the last +half-hour; she thought how Mildred's loving sympathy would have been +aroused if she could have told her how Richard and she had mutually +comforted themselves in their dulness. But something still stranger to +her experience happened that night before she slept. + +She was lying awake later than usual, pondering over the events of the +day, when a stifled sound, strongly resembling a sob promptly swallowed +by a simulated yawn, reached her ear. + +'Chrissy, dear, is there anything the matter?' she inquired, anxiously, +trying to grope her way to the huddled heap of bed-clothes. + +'No, thank you,' returned Chriss, with dignity; 'what should be the +matter? good-night. I believe I am getting sleepy,' with another +artfully-constructed yawn which did not in the least deceive Olive. + +Chrissy was crying, that was clear; and Olive's sympathy was wide-awake +as usual; but how was she with her clumsy, well-meaning efforts to +overcome the prickles? + +Chriss was well known to have a soul above sympathy, which she generally +resented as impertinent; nevertheless Olive's voice grew aggravatingly +soft. + +'I thought perhaps you might feel dull about Aunt Milly,' she began, +hesitating; 'we do--and so----' + +'I don't know, I am sure, whom you mean by your aggravating we's,' +snapped Chriss; 'but it is very hard a person can't have their feelings +without coming down on them like a policeman and taking them in charge.' + +'Well, then, I won't say another word, Chriss,' returned her sister, +good-humouredly. + +But this did not mollify Chriss. + +'Speaking won't hurt a person when they are sore all over,' she replied, +with her usual contradiction. 'I hate prying, of course, and it is a +pity one can't enjoy a comfortable little cry without being put through +one's catechism. But I do want Aunt Milly. There!' finished Chriss, with +another ominous shaking of the bed-clothes; 'and I want her more than +you do with all your mysterious we's.' + +'I meant Cardie,' replied Olive, mildly, too much used to Chriss's +oddities to be repulsed by them. 'You have no idea how much he misses +her and all her nice quiet ways.' + +Chriss stopped her ears decidedly. + +'I don't want to hear anything about Aunt Milly; you and Richard made +her a sort of golden image. It is very unkind of you, Olive, to speak +about her now, when you know how horrid and disagreeable and cross and +altogether abominable I have always been to her,' and here honest tears +choked Chriss's utterance. + +A warm thrill pervaded Olive's frame; here was another piece of work +left for her to do. She must gain influence over the cross-grained +warped little piece of human nature beside her; hitherto there had been +small sympathy between the sisters. Olive's dreamy susceptibilities and +Chriss's shrewdness had kept them apart. Chriss had always made it a +point of honour to contradict Olive in everything, and never until now +had she ever managed to insert the thinnest wedge between Chriss's +bristling self-esteem and general pugnacity. + +'Oh, Chriss,' she cried, almost tremblingly, in her eagerness to impart +some consolation, 'there is not one of us who cannot blame ourselves in +some way. I am sure I have not been as nice as I might have been to Aunt +Milly.' + +Chriss shook her shoulder pettishly. + +'Dear me, that is so like you, Olive; you are the most +funnily-constructed person I ever saw--all poetry and conscience. When +you are not dreaming with your eyes open you are always reading yourself +a homily.' + +'I wish I were nice for all your sakes,' replied Olive, meekly, not in +the least repudiating this personal attack. + +'Oh, as to that, you are nice enough,' retorted Chriss, briskly. 'You +won't come up to Aunt Milly, so it is no use trying, but all the same I +mean to stick to you. I don't intend you to be quite drowned dead in +your responsibilities. If you say a thing, however stupid it is, I shall +think it my duty to back you up, so I warn you to be careful.' + +'Dear Chriss, I am so much obliged to you,' replied Olive, with tears in +her eyes. + +She perfectly understood by this somewhat vague sentence that Chriss was +entering into a solemn league and covenant with her, an alliance +aggressive and defensive for all future occasions. + +'There is not another tolerably comfortable person in the house,' +grumbled Chriss; 'one might as well talk to a monk as to Richard; the +corners of his mouth are beginning to turn down already with +ultra-goodness, and now he has taken to the Noah's Ark style of dress +one has no comfort in contradicting him.' + +'Chrissy, how can you say such things? Cardie has never been so dear and +good in his life.' + +'And then there are Rex and Polly,' continued Chriss, ignoring this +interruption; 'the way they talk in corners and the foolish things they +say! I have made up my mind, Livy, never to be in love, not even if I +marry my professor. I will be kind to him and sew on his buttons once in +a way, and order him nice things for dinner; but if he sent me on +errands as Rex does Polly I would just march out of the room and never +see his face again. I am so glad that no one will think of marrying you, +Olive,' she finished, sleepily, disposing herself to rest; 'every family +ought to have an old maid, and a poetical one will be just the thing.' + +Olive smiled; she always took these sort of speeches as a matter of +course. It never entered her head that any other scheme of life were +possible with her. She was far too humble-minded and aware of her +shortcomings to imagine that she could find favour in any man's eyes. +She lay with a lightened heart long after Chriss had fallen into a sweet +sleep, thinking how she could do her best for the froward young creature +beside her. + +'I have begun work in earnest to-day,' she thought, 'first Cardie and +now Chriss. Oh, how hard I will try not to disappoint them!' + +Dr. Heriot had hoped to secure some five weeks of freedom from work, but +before the month had fully elapsed he had an urgent recall home. Richard +had telegraphed to him that they were all in great anxiety about Mr. +Trelawny. There had been a paralytic seizure, and his daughter was in +deep distress. They had sent for a physician from Kendal, but as the +case required watching, Dr. Heriot knew how urgently his presence would +be desired. + +He went in search of his wife immediately, and found her sitting in a +quiet nook in the Lowood Gardens overlooking Windermere. + +The book they had been reading together lay unheeded in her lap. +Mildred's eyes were fixed on the shining lake and the hills, with purple +shadows stealing over them. Her husband's step on the turf failed to +rouse her, so engrossing was her reverie, till his hand was laid on her +shoulder. + +'John, how you startled me!' + +'I have been looking for you everywhere, Milly, darling,' he returned, +sitting down beside her. 'I have been watching you for ever so long; I +wanted to know what other people thought of my wife, and so for once I +resolved to be a disinterested spectator.' + +'Hush, your wife does not like you to talk nonsense;' but all the same +Mildred blushed beautifully. + +'Unfortunately she has to endure it,' he replied, coolly. 'After all I +think people will be satisfied. You are a young-looking woman, Milly, +especially since you have left off wearing gray.' + +'As though I mind what people think,' she returned, smiling, well +pleased with his praise. + +Was it not sufficient for her that she was fair in his eyes? Dr. Heriot +had a fastidious taste with regard to ladies' dress. In common with many +men, he preferred rich dark materials with a certain depth and softness +of colouring, and already, with the nicest tact, she contrived to +satisfy him. Mildred was beginning to lose the old-fashioned staidness +and precision that had once marked her style; others besides her husband +thought the quiet, restful face had a certain beauty of its own. + +And he. There were some words written by the wise king of old which +often rose to his lips as he looked at her--'The heart of her husband +does safely trust in her; she will do him good and not evil all the days +of her life.' How had it ever come that he had won for himself this +blessing? There were times when he almost felt abashed before the purity +and goodness of this woman; the simplicity and truthfulness of her +words, the meekness with which she ever obeyed him. 'If I can only be +worthy of my Mildred's love, if I can be what she thinks me,' he often +said to himself. As he sat beside her now a feeling of regret crossed +him that this should be their last evening in this sweet place. + +'Shall you be very much disappointed, my wife' (his favourite name for +her), 'if we return home a few days earlier than we planned?' + +She looked up quickly. + +'Disappointed--to go home, and with you, John! But why? is there +anything the matter?' + +'Not at the vicarage, but Mr. Trelawny is very ill, and Richard has +telegraphed for me. What do you say, Mildred?' + +'That we must go at once. Poor Ethel. Of course she will want you, she +always had such faith in you. Dr. Strong is no favourite at +Kirkleatham.' + +'Yes, I think we ought to go,' he returned, slowly; 'you will be a +comfort to the poor girl, and of course I must be at my post. I am only +so sorry our pleasant trip must end.' + +'Yes, and it was doing you so much good,' she replied, looking fondly at +the dark face, now no longer thin and wan. 'I should have liked you to +have had another week's rest before you began work.' + +'Never mind,' he returned, cheerfully, 'we will not waste this lovely +evening with regrets. Where are your wraps, Mildred? I mean to fetch +them and row you on the lake; there will be a glorious moon this +evening.' + +The next night as Richard crossed the market-place on his way from +Kirkleatham he saw lights in the window of the low gray house beside the +Bank, and the next minute Dr. Heriot came out, swinging the gate behind +him. Richard sprang to meet him. + +'My telegram reached you then at Windermere? I am so thankful you have +come. Where is Aunt Milly?' + +'There,' motioning to the house; 'do you think I should leave my wife +behind me? Let me hear a little about things, Richard. Are you going my +way; to Kirkleatham, I mean?' + +'Yes, I will turn back with you. I have been up there most of the time. +He seems to like me, and no one else can lift him. It seemed hard +breaking into your holiday, Dr. Heriot, but what could I do? We are sure +he dislikes Dr. Strong, and then Ethel seemed so wretched.' + +'Poor girl; the sudden seizure must have terrified her.' + +'Oh, I must tell you about that; I promised her I would. You see he has +taken this affair of the election too much to heart; every one told him +he would fail, and he did not believe them. In his obstinacy he has +squandered large sums of money, and she believes this to be preying on +his mind.' + +'That and the disappointment.' + +'As to that his state was pitiable. He came back from Kendal looking as +ill as possible and full of bitterness against her. She has no want of +courage, but she owned she was almost terrified when she looked at him. +She does not say much, but one can tell what she has been through.' + +Dr. Heriot nodded. Too well he understood the state of the case. Mr. +Trelawny's paroxysms of temper had latterly become almost +uncontrollable. + +'He parted from her in anger, his last words being that she had ruined +her father, and then he went up to his dressing-room. Shortly after a +servant in an adjoining room heard a heavy fall, and alarmed the +household. They found him lying speechless and unable to move. Ethel +says when they had laid him on his bed and he had recovered +consciousness a little, his eyes followed her with a frightened, +questioning look that went to her heart, and which no soothing on her +part could remove. The whole of the right side is affected, and though +he has recovered speech, the articulation is very imperfect, impossible +to understand at present, which makes it very distressing.' + +'Poor Miss Trelawny, I fear she has sad work before her.' + +'She looks wretchedly ill over it; but what can one expect from such a +shock? She shows admirable self-command in the sickroom; she only breaks +down when she is away from him. I am so glad she will have Aunt Milly. +Now I must go back, as Marsden is away, and I have to copy some papers +for my father. I shall go back in a couple of hours to take the first +share of the night's nursing.' + +'You will find me there,' was Dr. Heriot's reply as they shook hands and +parted. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + +OLIVE'S DECISION + + 'Be good, sweet maid, and let who can be clever; + Do lovely things, not dream them, all day long; + And so make Life, Death, and that vast For Ever, + One grand sweet song.' + + Charles Kingsley. + + +Ethel Trelawny had long felt as though some crisis in her life were +impending. + +To her it seemed impossible that the unnatural state of things between +her father and herself could any longer continue; something must occur +to break the hideous monotony and constraint of those slowly revolving +weeks and months. Latterly there had come to her that strange listening +feeling to which some peculiar and sensitive temperaments are subject, +when in the silence they can distinctly hear the muffled footfall of +approaching sorrow. + +Yet what sorrow could be more terrible than this estrangement, this +death of a father's love, this chill cloud of distrust that had risen up +between them! + +And yet when the blow fell, filial instinct woke up in the girl's soul, +all the stronger for its repression. There were times during those first +forty-eight hours when she would gladly have laid down her own life if +she could have restored power to those fettered limbs, and peace to that +troubled brain. + +Oh, if she could only have blotted out those last cruel words--if they +would cease to ring in her ears! + +She had met him almost timidly, knowing how heavily the bitterness of +his failure would lie upon him. + +'Papa, I fear things have not gone well with you,' she had said, and +there had been a caressing, almost a pitying chord in her voice as she +spoke. + +'How should things go well with me when my own child opposes my +interest?' he had answered, gloomily. 'I have wasted time and substance, +I have fooled myself in the eyes of other men, and now I must hide my +head in this obscurity which has grown so hateful to me, and it is all +your fault, Ethel.' + +'Papa, listen to me,' she pleaded. 'Ambition is not everything; why have +you set your heart on this thing? It is embittering your life and mine. +Other men have been disappointed, and it has not gone so very hard with +them. Why will you not let yourself be comforted?' + +'There is no comfort for me,' he had replied, and his face had been very +old and haggard as he spoke. It were far better that she had not spoken; +her words, few and gentle as they were, only added to the fuel of his +discontent; he had meant to shut himself up in his sullenness, and make +no sign; but she had intercepted his retreat, and brought down the vials +on her devoted head. + +Could she ever forget the angry storm that followed? Surely he must have +been beside himself to have spoken such words! How was it that she had +been accused of jilting Mr. Cathcart, of refusing his renewed overtures, +merely from obstinacy, and the desire of opposition; that she should +hear herself branded as her father's worst enemy? + +'You and your pride have done for me!' he had said, lashing himself up +to fresh fury with the remembrance of past mortification. 'You have +taken from me all that would make life desirable. You have been a bad +daughter to me, Ethel. You have spoiled the work of a lifetime.' + +'Papa, papa, I have only acted rightly. How could I have done this evil +thing, even for your sake?' she had cried, but he had not listened to +her. + +'You have jilted the man you fancied out of pride, and now the mischief +will lie on your own head,' he had answered, angrily, and then he had +turned to leave the room. + +Half an hour afterwards the heavy thud of a fall had been heard, and the +man had come to her with a white face to summon her to her father's +bedside. + +She knew then what had come upon them. At the first sight of that +motionless figure, speechless, inert, struck down with unerring force, +in the very prime and strength of life, she knew how it would be with +them both. + +'Oh, my dear, my dear, forgive me,' she had cried, falling on her knees +beside the bed, and raining tears over the rigid hands; and yet what was +there to forgive? Was it not rather she who had been sinned against? +What words were those the paralysed tongue refused to speak? What was +the meaning of those awful questioning eyes that rested on her day and +night, when partial consciousness returned? Could it be that he would +have entreated her forgiveness? + +'Papa, papa, do not look so,' she would say in a voice that went to +Richard's heart. 'Don't you know me? I am Ethel, your own, only child. I +will love you and take care of you, papa. Do you hear me, dear? There is +nothing to forgive--nothing--nothing.' + +During the strain of those first terrible days Richard was everything to +her; without him she would literally have sunk under her misery. + +'Oh, Richard, have I killed my father? Am I his murderess?' she cried +once almost hysterically when they were left alone together. 'Oh, poor +papa--poor papa!' + +'Dear Ethel, you have done no wrong,' he replied, taking her unresisting +hand; 'it is no fault of yours, dearest; you have been the truest, the +most patient of daughters. He has brought it on himself.' + +'Ah, but it was through me that this happened,' she returned, shuddering +through every nerve. 'If I had married Mr. Cathcart, he would not have +lost his seat, and then he would not have fretted himself ill.' + +'Ought we to do evil that good may come, Ethel?' replied Richard, +gravely. 'Are children responsible for the wrongdoing of their parents? +If there be sin, it lies at your father's door, not yours; it is you to +forgive, not he.' + +'Richard, how can you be so hard?' she demanded, with a flash of her old +spirit through her sobs; but it died away miserably. + +'I am not hard to him--God forbid! Am I likely to be hard to your +father, Ethel, and now especially?' he said, somewhat reproachfully, but +speaking with the quiet decision that soothed her even then. 'I cannot +have you unfitting yourself for your duties by indulging these morbid +ideas; no one blames you--you have done right; another time you will be +ready to acknowledge it yourself; you have enough to suffer, without +adding to your burden. I entreat you to banish these fancies, once and +for ever. Ethel, promise me you will try to do so.' + +'Yes, yes, I know you are right,' she returned, weeping bitterly; 'only +it breaks my heart to see him like this.' + +'You are spent and weary,' he replied, gently; 'to-morrow you will look +at these things in a different light. It has been such an awful shock to +you, you see,' and then he brought her wine, and compelled her to drink +it, and with much persuasion induced her to seek an hour or two's repose +before returning to the sickroom. + +What would she have done without him, she thought, as she closed her +heavy eyes. Unconsciously they seemed to have resumed their old +relations towards each other; it was Richard and Ethel now. Richard's +caressing manner had returned; no brother could have watched over her +more devotedly, more reverently; and yet he had never loved her so well +as when, all her imperiousness gone, and with her brave spirit well-nigh +broken, she seemed all the more dependent on his sympathy and care. + +But the first smile that crossed her face was for Mildred, when Dr. +Heriot brought her up to Kirkleatham the first evening after their +arrival. Mildred almost cried over her when she took her in her arms; +the contrast to her own happiness was so great. + +'Oh, Ethel, Ethel,' was all she could say, 'my poor girl!' + +'Yes, I am that and much more,' she returned, yielding to her friend's +embrace; 'utterly poor and wretched. Has he--has Dr. Heriot told you all +he feared?' + +'That there can only be partial recovery? Yes, I know he fears that; but +then one cannot tell in these cases; you may have him still for years.' + +'Ah, but if he should have another stroke? I know what Dr. Heriot +thinks--it is a bad case; he has said so to Richard.' + +'Poor child! it is so hard not to be able to comfort you.' + +'No one can do that so long as I have him before my eyes in this state. +Mildred, you cannot conceive what a wreck he is; no power of speech, +only those inarticulate sounds.' + +'I am glad Cardie is able to be so much with you.' + +A sensitive colour overspread Ethel's worn face. + +'I do not know what I should have done without him,' she returned, in a +low voice. 'If he had been my own brother he could not have done more +for me; we fancy papa likes to have him, he is so strong and quiet, and +always sees what is the right thing to be done.' + +'I found out Cardie's value long ago; he was my right hand during +Olive's illness.' + +'He is every one's right hand, I think,' was the quiet answer. 'He was +the first to suggest telegraphing for Dr. Heriot. I could not bear +breaking in upon your holiday, but it could not be helped.' + +'Do you think we could have stayed away?' + +'All the same it is a sad welcome to your new home; but you are a +doctor's wife now. Mildred, if you knew what it was to me to see your +dear face near me again.' + +'I am so thankful John brought me.' + +'Ah, but he will take you away again. I can hear his step now.' + +'Poor girl! her work is cut out for her,' observed Dr. Heriot, +thoughtfully, as they walked homewards through the crofts. 'It will be a +sad, lingering case, and I fear that the brain is greatly affected from +what they tell me. He must have had a slight stroke many years ago.' + +'Poor, poor Ethel,' replied Mildred, sorrowfully. 'I must be with her as +much as possible; but Richard seems her greatest comfort.' + +'Perhaps good may come out of evil. You see, I can guess at your +thought, Milly darling,' and then their talk flowed into a less sad +channel. + +But not all Mildred's sympathy, or Richard's goodness, could avail to +make those long weeks and months of misery otherwise than dreary; and +nobly as Ethel Trelawny performed her duty, there were times when her +young heart sickened and grew heavy with pain in the oppressive +atmosphere of that weary sickroom. + +To her healthy vitality, the spectacle of her father's helplessness was +simply terrible; the inertness of the fettered limbs, the indistinct +utterance of the tied and faltering tongue, the confusion of the +benumbed brain, oppressed her like a nightmare. There were times when +her pity for him was so great, that she would have willingly laid down +all her chances of happiness in this life if she could have restored to +him the prospect of health. + +It was now that the real womanhood of Ethel Trelawny rose to the +surface. Richard's heart ached with its fulness of love when he saw her +day after day so meekly and patiently tending her afflicted father; the +worn, pale face and eyes heavy with trouble and want of sleep were far +more beautiful to him now; but he hid his feelings with his usual +self-control. She had learned to depend upon him and trust him, and this +state of things was too precious to be disturbed. + +Richard was his father's sole curate now. Towards the end of October, +Hugh Marsden had finished his preparations, and had bidden good-bye to +his friends at the vicarage. + +Mildred, who saw him last, was struck with the change in the young man's +manner; his cheerful serenity had vanished--he looked subdued, almost +agitated. + +She was sitting at work in the little glass room; a tame canary was +skimming among the flowers, Dr. Heriot's voice was heard cheerfully +whistling from an inner room, some late blooming roses lay beside +Mildred, her husband's morning gift, the book from which he had been +reading to her was still open on the table; the little domestic picture +smote the young man's heart with a dull pain. + +'I am come to say good-bye, Mrs. Heriot,' he said, in a sadder voice +than she had ever heard from him before; 'and it has come to this, that +I would sooner say any other word.' + +'We shall miss you dreadfully, Mr. Marsden,' replied Mildred, looking +regretfully up at the plain honest face. Hugh Marsden had always been a +favourite with her, and she was loath to say good-bye to him. + +'Others have been kind enough to tell me so,' he rejoined, twirling his +shabby felt hat between his fingers. 'Miss Olive, Miss Lambert I mean, +said so just now. Somehow, I had hoped--but no, she has decided +rightly.' + +Mildred looked up in surprise. Incoherence was new in Hugh Marsden; but +just now his clumsy eloquence seemed to have deserted him. + +'What has Olive decided?' she asked, with a sudden spasm of curiosity; +and then she added kindly, 'Sit down, Mr. Marsden, you do not seem quite +yourself; all this leave-taking has tired you.' + +But he shook his head. + +'I have no time: you must not tempt me, Mrs. Heriot; only you have +always been so good to me, that I wanted to ask you to say this for me.' + +'What am I to say?' asked Mildred, feeling a little bewildered. + +He was still standing before her, twirling his hat in his big hands, his +broad face flushed a little. + +'Tell Miss Olive that I know she has acted rightly; she always does, you +know. It would be something to have such a woman as that beside one, +strengthening one's hands; but of course it cannot be--she could not +deviate from her duty by a hair's-breadth.' + +'I do not know if I understand you,' began Mildred, slowly, and groping +her way to the truth. + +'I think you do. I think you have always understood me,' returned the +young man, more quickly. 'And you will tell her this from me. Of course +one must have regrets, but it cannot be helped; good-bye, Mrs. Heriot. A +thousand thanks for all you have done for me.' And before Mildred could +answer, he had wrung her hand, and was half-way through the hall. + +An hour later, Mildred stole softly down the vicarage lobby, and knocked +at the door of the room she had once occupied, and Olive's voice bade +her enter. + +'Aunt Milly, I never thought it was you,' she exclaimed, rising hastily +from the low chair by the window. 'Is Dr. Heriot with you?' + +'No; I left John at home. I told him that I wanted to have a little talk +with you, and like a model husband he asked no questions, and raised no +obstacles. All the same I expect he will follow me.' + +'You wanted to talk to me?' returned Olive, in a questioning tone, but +her sallow face flushed a little. 'How strange, when I was just wishing +for you too.' + +'There must be some electric sympathy between us,' replied her aunt, +smiling. 'Nothing could have induced me to sleep until I had seen you. +Mr. Marsden wished me to give you a message from him; he was a little +incoherent, but so far as I understand, he wished me to assure you that +he considers yours a right decision.' + +Olive's face brightened a little. Mildred had already detected unusual +sadness on it, but her calmness was baffling. + +'Did he tell you to say that? How kind of him!' + +'He did not stop to explain himself; he was in too great a hurry; but I +thought he seemed troubled. What was the decision, Olive? Has this +helped you to make it?' touching reverently the open page of a Bible +that lay beside her. + +The brown light in Olive's eyes grew steady and intense; she looked like +one who had found rest in a certainty. + +'I have just been preaching to myself from that text: "He that putteth +his hand to the plough and looketh backward," you know, Aunt Milly. +Well, that seems to point as truly to me as it does to Mr. Marsden.' + +'Yes, dearest,' replied Mildred, softly; 'and now what has he said to +you?' + +'I hardly know myself,' was the low-toned answer. 'I have been thinking +it all over, and I cannot now understand how it was; it seems so +wonderful that any one could care enough for me,' speaking to herself, +with a soft, bewildered smile. + +'Does Mr. Marsden care for you. I thought so from the first, Olive.' + +'I suppose he does, or else he would not have said what he did; it was +difficult to know his meaning at first, he was so embarrassed, and I was +so slow; but we understood each other at last.' + +'Tell me all he said, dear,' pleaded Mildred. Could it be her own love +story that Olive was treating so simply? There was a chord of sadness in +her voice, and a film gathered over the brightness of her eyes, but +there was no agitation in her manner; the deep of her soul might be +touched, but the surface was calm. + +'There is not much to tell, Aunt Milly, but of course you may know all. +We had said good-bye, and I had spoken a word or two about his work, and +how I thought it the most beautiful work that a man could do, and then +he asked me if I should ever be willing to share in it.' + +'Well?' + +'I did not understand him at first, as I told you, until he made his +meaning more plain, and then I saw how it was, that he hoped that one +day I might give myself heart and soul to the same work; that my talent, +beautiful, as he owned it to be, might not hinder me from such a +glorious reality--"the reality,"' and here for the first time she +faltered and grew crimson, '"of such work as must fall to a missionary's +wife."' + +'Olive, my dear child,' exclaimed Mildred, now really startled, 'did he +say as much as that?' + +'Yes, indeed, Aunt Milly; and he asked if I could care enough for him to +make such a sacrifice.' + +'My dear, how very sudden.' + +'It did not seem so. I cannot make out why I was not more surprised. It +came to me as though I had expected it all along. Of course I told him +that I liked him better than any one else I had seen, but that I never +thought that any one could care for me in that way; and then I told him +that while my father lived nothing would induce me to leave him.' + +'And what did he say to that?' + +'That he was afraid this would be my answer, but that he knew I was +deciding rightly, that he had never meant to say so much, only that the +last minute he could not help it; and then he begged that we might +remain friends, and asked me not to forget him and his work in my +prayers, and then he went away.' + +'And for once in your life you decided without Aunt Milly.' + +The girl looked up quickly. 'Was it wrong? You could not have counselled +me to give a different answer, and even if you had--' hesitating, 'Oh, I +could not have said otherwise; there was no conflicting duty there, Aunt +Milly.' + +'Dearest, from my heart I believe you are right. Your father could ill +spare you.' + +'I am thankful to hear you say so. Of course,' heaving a little sigh, +'it was very hard seeing him go away like that, but I never doubted +which was my duty for a moment. As long as papa and Cardie want me, +nothing could induce me to leave them.' + +'I suppose you will tell them this, Olive?' + +'No, oh no,' she replied, shrinking back, 'that would spoil all. It +would be to lose the fruit of the sacrifice; it might grieve them too. +No, no one must know this but you and I, Aunt Milly; it must be sacred +to us three. I told Mr. Marsden so.' + +'Perhaps you are right,' returned her aunt, thoughtfully. 'Richard +thinks so highly of him, he might give you no peace on the subject. When +we have once made up our minds to a certain course of action, arguments +are as wearying as they are fruitless, and overmuch pity is good for no +one. But, dear Olive, I cannot refrain from telling you how much I +honour you for this decision.' + +'Honour me, Aunt Milly!' and Olive's pale face flushed with strong +emotion. + +'How can I help it? There are so few who really act up to their +principles in this world, who when the moment for self-sacrifice comes +are able cheerfully to count the cost and renounce the desire of their +heart. Ah!' she continued, 'when I think of your yearning after a +missionary life, and that you are giving up a woman's brightest prospect +for the sake of an ailing parent, I feel that you have done a very noble +thing indeed.' + +'Hush, I do not deserve all this praise. I am only doing my duty.' + +'True; and after all we are only unprofitable servants. I wish I had +your humility, Olive. I feel as though I should be too happy sometimes +if it were not for the sorrows of others. They are shadows on the +sunshine. Ethel is always in my thoughts, and now you will be there +too.' + +'I do not think--I do not mean to be unhappy,' faltered Olive. '"God +loveth a cheerful giver," I must remember that, Aunt Milly. Perhaps,' +she continued, more humbly, 'I am not fit for the work. Perhaps he might +be disappointed in me, and I should only drag him down. Don't you +recollect what papa once said in one of his sermons about obstacles +standing like the angel with the drawn sword before Balaam, to turn us +from the way?' + +Mildred sighed. How often she had envied the childish faith which lay at +the bottom of Olive's character, though hidden by the troublesome +scrupulousness of a too sensitive conscience. Was the healthy growth she +had noticed latterly owing to Mr. Marsden's influence, or had she +really, by God's grace, trodden on the necks of her enemies? + +'You must not be sorry about all this,' continued the girl, earnestly, +noticing the sigh. 'You don't know how glad I am that Mr. Marsden cares +for me.' + +'I cannot help feeling that some day it will all come right,' returned +Mildred. + +'I must not think about that,' was the hurried answer. 'Aunt Milly, +please never to say or hint such a thing again. It would be wrong; it +would make me restless and dissatisfied. I shall always think of him as +a dear friend--but--but I mean to be Olive Lambert all my life.' + +Mildred smiled and kissed her, and then consented very reluctantly to +change the subject, but nevertheless she held to her opinion as firmly +as Olive to hers. + +Mildred might well say that the sorrows of others shadowed her +brightness. During the autumn and winter that followed her marriage her +affectionate heart was often oppressed by thoughts of that dreary +sickroom. Her husband had predicted from the first that only partial +recovery could be expected in Mr. Trelawny's case. A few months or years +of helplessness was all that remained to the once lithe and active frame +of the master of Kirkleatham. + +It was a pitiable wreck that met Richard's eyes one fine June evening in +the following year, when he went up to pay his almost daily visit. They +had wheeled the invalid on to the sunny terrace that he might enjoy the +beautiful view. Below them lay the old gray buildings and church of +Kirkby Stephen. The pigeons were sitting in rows on the tower, +preparatory to roosting in one of the unoccupied rooms; through the open +door one had glimpses of the dark-painted window, with its fern-bordered +ledge, and the gleaming javelins on the wall. A book lay on Ethel's lap, +but she had long since left off turning the pages. The tale, simple as +it was, was wearying to the invalid's oppressed brain. Her wan face +brightened at the young curate's approach. + +'How is he?' asked Richard in a low voice as he approached her, and +dropping his voice. + +Ethel shook her head. 'He is very weary and wandering to-night; worse +than usual, I fancy. Papa, Richard has come to see us; he is waiting to +shake hands with you.' + +'Richard--ay, a good lad--a good lad,' returned the sick man, +listlessly. His voice was still painfully thick and indistinct, and his +eyes had a dull look of vacancy. 'You must excuse my left hand, +Richard,' with an attempt at his old courtliness; 'the other is numb or +gone to sleep; it is of no use to me at all. Ah, I always told Lambert +he ought to be proud of his sons.' + +'His thoughts are running on the boys to-night,' observed Ethel, in a +low voice. 'He keeps asking after Rupert, and just now he fancied I was +my poor mother.' + +Richard gave her a grave pitying look, and turned to the invalid. 'I am +glad to see you out this lovely evening,' he said, trying gently to +rouse his attention, for the thin, dark face had a painful abstracted +look. + +'Ah, it is beautiful enough,' replied Mr. Trelawny, absently. 'I am +waiting for the boys; have you seen them, Richard? Agatha sent them down +to the river to bathe; she spoils them dreadfully. Rupert is a fine +swimmer; he does everything well; he is his mother's favourite.' + +'I think Ethel is looking pale, Mr. Trelawny. Aunt Milly has sent me to +fetch her for an hour, if you can spare her?' + +'I can always spare Ethel; she is not much use to me. Girls are +generally in the way; they are poor things compared with boys. Where is +the child, Agatha? Tell her to make haste; we must not keep Richard +waiting.' + +'Dear papa,' pleaded the girl, 'you are dreaming to-night. Your poor +Ethel is beside you.' + +'Ah, to be sure,' passing his hand wearily through his whitening hair. +'I get confused; you are so like your mother. Ask this gentleman to +wheel me in, Ethel; I am getting tired.' + +'Is he often like this?' asked Richard, when at last she was free to +join him in the porch. The curfew bell was ringing as they walked +through the dewy crofts among the tall, sleeping daisies; the cool +breeze fanned Ethel's hot temples. + +'Yes, very often,' she returned, in a dejected tone. 'It is this that +tries me so. If he would only talk to me a little as he used to do +before things went wrong; but he only seems to live in the past--his +wife and his boys--but it is chiefly Rupert now.' + +'And yet he seems restless without you.' + +'That is the strangest part; he seems to know me through it all. There +are times when he is a little clearer; when he seems to think there is +something between us; and then nothing satisfies him, unless I sit +beside him and hold his hand. It is so hard to hear him begging my +forgiveness over and over again for some imaginary wrong he fancies he +has done me.' + +'Poor Ethel! Yet he was never dearer to you than he is now?' + +'Never,' she returned, drying her eyes. 'Night and day he engrosses my +thoughts. I seem to have no room for anything else. Do you know, +Richard, I can understand now the passionate pity mothers feel for a +sick child, for whom they sacrifice rest and comfort. There is nothing I +would not do for papa.' + +'Aunt Milly says your devotion to him is beautiful.' + +Ethel's face grew paler. 'You must not tell me that, Richard; you do not +consider that I have to retrieve the coldness of a lifetime. After all, +poor papa is right. I have not been a good daughter to him; I have been +carping and disagreeable; I have presumed to sit in judgment on my own +father; I have separated myself and my pursuits from his, and alienation +was the result.' + +'For which you were not wholly to blame,' he replied, gently, unable to +hear those self-accusations unmoved. Why was she, the dearest and the +truest, to go heavily all her days for sins that were not her own? + +'No, you must not blame him,' she continued, beseechingly. 'Is he not +bearing his own punishment? am I not bearing mine? Oh, it is dreadful!' +her voice suddenly choked with strong emotion. 'Bodily sufferings I +could have witnessed with far less misery than I feel at the spectacle +of this helplessness and mental decay; to talk to dull ears, to arrest +wandering thoughts, to listen hour after hour to confused rambling, +Richard, this seems harder than anything.' + +'If He--the Master I mean--fell under His cross, do we wonder that we at +times sink under ours?' was the low, reverent answer. 'Ethel, I +sometimes think how wonderful it will be to turn the page of suffering +in another world, and, with eyes purified from earthly rheum, to spell +out all the sacred meaning of the long trial that we considered so +unbearable--nay, sometimes so unjust.' + +Ethel did not trust herself to speak, but a grateful glance answered +him. It was not the first time he had comforted her with words which had +sunk deep into a subdued and softened heart. She was learning her lesson +now, and the task was a hard one to poor passionate human flesh and +blood. If what Richard said was true, she would not have a pang too +many; the sorrowful moments would be numbered to her by the same Father, +without whom not even a sparrow could fall to the ground. Could she not +safely trust her father to Him? + +'Richard, I am always praying to come down from my cross,' she said at +last, looking up at the young clergyman with sweet humid eyes. 'And +after all He has fastened us there with His own hands. I suppose it is +faith and patience for which one should ask, and not only relief?' + +'He will give that too in His own good time,' returned Richard, +solemnly, and then, as was often the case, a short silence fell between +them. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + +BERENGARIA + + 'I have led her home, my love, my only friend, + There is none like her, none. + And never yet so warmly ran my blood + And sweetly, on and on + Calming itself to the long-wished-for end, + Full to the banks, close on the promised good. + + * * * * * + + None like her, none.'--Tennyson's _Maud_. + + +Two years had elapsed since Olive Lambert had made her noble decision, +and during that time triple events had happened. Mr. Trelawny's +suffering life was over, Rex had married his faithful Polly, and Dr. +Heriot and Mildred had rejoiced over their first-born son. + +Mr. Trelawny did not long survive the evening when Richard found him on +the sunny terrace; towards the end of the autumn there was a brief +rally, a strange flicker of restless life; his confused faculties seemed +striving to clear themselves; at times there was a strained dilated look +in the dark eyes that was almost pitiful; he seemed unwilling to have +Ethel out of his sight--even for a moment. + +One night he called her to him. She was standing at the window finishing +some embroidery by the fading light, but at the first sound of the weak, +querulous tones, she turned her cheerful face towards him, for however +weary she felt, there was always a smile for him. + +'What is it, dear father?' for in those sad last days the holy name of +father had come involuntarily to her lips. True, she had tasted little +of his fatherhood, but still he was hers--her father. + +'Put down that tiresome work and come to me,' he went on, fretfully; +'you are always at work--always--as though you had your bread to earn; +there is plenty to spare for you. Rupert will take care of you; you need +not fear, Ethel.' + +'No, dear, I am not afraid,' she returned coming to his side, and +parting his hair with her soft fingers. + +How often she had kissed those gray streaks, and the poor wrinkled +forehead. He was an old man now, bowed and decrepit, sitting there with +his lifeless arm folded to his side. But how she loved him--her poor, +stricken father! + +'No, you were always a good girl. Ethel, are the boys asleep?' + +'Yes, both of them, father,' leaning her cheek against his. + +'And your mother?' + +'Yes, dear.' + +'I had a fancy I should like to hear Rupert's voice again. You remember +his laugh, Ethel, so clear and ringing? Hal's was not like it; he was +quiet and tame compared to Rupert. Ethel,' wistfully, 'it is a long time +since I saw my boys.' + +'My poor dear, a long, long time!' and then she whispered, almost +involuntarily, '"I shall go to them, but they shall not return to me."' + +He caught the meaning partially. + +'Yes, we will go to them--you and I,' he returned, vacantly, patting her +cheek as she hung over him. 'Don't cry, Ethel, they are good boys, and +shall have their rights; but I have not forgotten you. You have been a +good daughter to me--better than I deserved. I shall tell your mother so +when----' + +But the sentence was never finished. + +He had seemed drowsy after that, and she rang for the servant to wheel +him into his own room. He was still heavy when she drew the curtains +round him and wished him good-night; he looked placid and beautiful, she +thought, as she leant over him for a last kiss; but he only smiled at +her, and pressed her hand feebly. + +That smile, how she treasured it! It was still on his lips when the +servant who slept in his room, surprised at his master's long rest, +undrew the curtains and found him lying as they left him last +night--dead!' + +'You have been a good daughter to me--better than I deserved. I shall +tell your mother so when----' + +'Oh, Ethel, he has told her now! be comforted, darling,' cried Mildred, +when Ethel had thrown herself dry-eyed on her friend's bosom. 'God do so +to me and mine, as you have dealt with him in his trouble.' + +But for a long time the afflicted girl refused to be comforted. + +Richard was smitten with dismay when he saw her for the first time after +her father's death. Her paleness, her assumed calmness, filled him with +foreboding trouble. Mildred had told him she had scarcely slept or eaten +since the shock of her bereavement had come upon her. + +She had come to him at once, and stood before him in her black dress; +the touch of her hand was so cold, that he had started at its +clamminess; the uncomplaining sadness of her aspect brought the mist to +his eyes. + +'Dear Ethel, it has been sudden--awfully sudden,' he said, at last, +almost fearing to graze the edge of that dreary pause. + +'Ah! that it has.' + +'That afternoon we had both been sitting with him. Do you remember he +had complained of weariness, and yet he would not suffer us to wheel him +in? Who would have thought his weariness would have been so soon at an +end!' + +She made no answer, only her bosom heaved a little. Yes, his weariness +was over, but hers had begun; her filial work was taken from her, and +her heart was sick with the sudden void in life. For months he had been +her first waking and her last sleeping thoughts; his helplessness had +brought out the latent devotion of her nature, and now she was alone! + +'Will you let me see him?' whispered Richard, not daring to break on +this sacred reserve of grief, and yet longing to speak some word of +comfort to her stricken heart; and she had turned noiselessly and led +him to the chamber of death. + +There her fortitude had given way a little, and Richard was relieved to +see her quiet tears coursing slowly down her cheeks, as they stood side +by side looking on the still face with its changeless smile. + +'Ethel, I am glad you have allowed me to see him,' he said, at last; 'he +looks so calm and peaceful, all marks of age and suffering gone. Who +could have the heart to break that rest?' + +Then the pent-up pain found utterance. + +'Oh, Richard, think, never to have bidden him good-bye!' + +'Did you wish him good-night, dear? I thought you told me you always +went to his bedside the last thing before you slept?' + +'Yes--but I did not know,' the tears flowing still more freely. + +'No--you only wished him good-night, and bade God bless him. Well, has +He not blessed him?' + +A sob was her only reply. + +'Has He not given him the "blessing of peace"? Is not His very seal of +peace there stamped on that quiet brow? Dear Ethel, those words, "He is +not, for God took him," always seem to me to apply so wonderfully to +sudden death. You know,' dropping his voice, and coming more closely, +'some men, good men, even, have such a horror of death.' + +'He had,' in a tone almost inaudible. + +'So I always understood. Think of the mercy shown to his weakness then, +literally falling asleep; no slow approach of the enemy he feared; no +deadly combat with the struggling flesh; only sleep, untroubled as a +child; a waking, not here, but in another world.' + +Ethel still wept, but she felt less oppressed; no one could comfort her +like Richard, not even Mildred. + +As the days went on, Richard felt almost embarrassed by the trust she +reposed in him. Ethel, who had always been singularly unconventional in +her ideas, and was still in worldly matters as simple as a child, could +see no reason why Richard should not manage things wholly for her. +Richard in his perplexity was obliged to appeal to Dr. Heriot. + +'She is ill, and shrinks from business; she wants me to see the lawyer. +Surely you can explain to her how impossible it is for me to interfere +with such matters? She treats the man who aspires to be her husband +exactly like her brother,' continued the young man, in a vexed, +shamefaced way. + +Dr. Heriot could hardly forbear a smile. + +The master of Kirkleatham had been lying in his grave for weeks, but his +faithful daughter still refused to be comforted. She moped piteously; +all business fretted her; a quiet talk with Mildred or Richard was all +of which her harassed nerves seemed capable. + +'What can you expect?' he said, at last; 'her long nursing has broken +her down. She has a fine constitution, but the wear and tear of these +months have been enough to wear out any woman. Leave her quiet for a +little while to cry her heart out for her father.' + +'In the meantime, Mr. Grantham is waiting to have those papers signed, +and to know if those leases are to be renewed,' returned Richard, +impatiently. + +With her his gentleness and sympathy had been unfailing, but it was not +to be denied that his present position fretted him. To be treated as a +brother, and to be no brother; to be the rejected suitor of an heiress, +and yet to be told he was her right hand! No wonder Richard's heart was +sore; he was even aggrieved with Dr. Heriot for not perceiving more +quickly the difficulties of his situation. + +'If my father were in better health, she would go to him; she has said +so more than once,' he went on, more quietly. 'It is easy to see that +she does not understand my hints; and under the present circumstances it +is impossible to speak more plainly. She wanted me to see Mr. Grantham, +and when I refused she looked almost hurt.' + +'Yes, I see, she must be roused to do things herself. Don't be vexed +about it, Richard, it will all come right, and you cannot expect her to +see things as we do. I will have a little talk with her myself; if it +comes to the worst I must constitute myself her man of business for the +present,' and Richard withdrew more satisfied. + +Things were at a low ebb just now with Richard. Ethel's heiress-ship lay +on him like a positive burden. The riches he despised rose up like a +golden wall between him and his love. Oh, that she had been some poor +orphaned girl, that in her loneliness he might have taken her to his +heart and his father's home! What did either he or she want with these +riches? He knew her well enough to be sure how she would dread the added +responsibility they would bring. How often she had said to him during +the last few weeks, 'Oh, Richard, it is too much! it oppresses me +terribly. What am I to do with it all, and with myself!' and he had not +answered her a word. + +Dr. Heriot found his task easier than he had expected. Ethel was unhappy +enough to be slightly unreasonable. She felt herself aggrieved with +Richard, and had misunderstood him. + +'I suppose he has sent you to tell me that I must rouse myself,' she +said, with languid displeasure, when he had unfolded his errand. 'He +need not have troubled either himself or you. I have seen Mr. Grantham; +he went away by the 2.50 train.' + +'I must say that I think you have done wisely,' returned Dr. Heriot, +much pleased. 'No one, not even Richard, has a right to interfere in +these matters. The will is left so that your trustees will expect you to +exert yourself. It seems a pity that you cannot refer to them!' + +'You know Mr. Molloy is dead.' + +'Yes, and Sir William still in Canada. Yet, with an honest, +straightforward man like Grantham, I think you might settle things +without reference to any one. Richard is only sorry his father is so +ailing.' + +'No, I could not trouble Mr. Lambert.' + +'Richard has been so much about the house during your father's illness, +that it seems natural to refer to him. Well, he has an older head than +many of us; but all the same you must understand his scruples.' + +'They have seemed to me far-fetched.' + +But, nevertheless, Ethel blushed a little as she spoke. A dim sense of +Dr. Heriot's meaning had been dawning on her slowly, but she was +unwilling to confess it. She changed the subject somewhat hastily, by +asking after Mildred and the baby, and loading Dr. Heriot with loving +messages. Nothing more was said about Richard until the close of the +visit, when Dr. Heriot somewhat incautiously mentioned him again; but, +as he told Mildred afterwards, he spoke advisedly. + +'You will not let Richard think he is misunderstood?' he said, as he +rose to take leave. 'You know he is the last one to spare himself +trouble, but he feels in your position that he must do nothing to +compromise you.' + +'He will not have the opportunity,' she returned, with brief +haughtiness, and turning suddenly very crimson; but as she met Dr. +Heriot's look of mild reproach, she melted. + +'No--he is right, you are all of you quite right. I must exert myself, +and try and care for the things that belonged to my darling father, only +I shall be so lonely--so very lonely,' and she covered her face with her +hands. + +Ethel met Richard with more than her usual kindness when she saw him +next; her sweet deprecating glance gave the young man a sorrowful pang. + +'You need not have sent him to see me, Richard,' she said, a little +sadly. 'I have been thoughtless, and hurt you. I--I will trouble no one +but myself now.' + +'It was not the trouble, Ethel; you must know that,' he returned, +eagerly. 'I wish I had the right to help you, but----' + +His voice broke, and he dropped her hands. Perhaps he felt the time had +not come to speak; perhaps an involuntary chill seized him as he thought +of the little he had to offer her. His manner was very grave, almost +reserved, during the rest of the visit; both of them were glad when a +chance caller enabled Richard, without awkwardness, to take his leave. + +After this, the young curate's visits grew rarer, and at last almost +entirely ceased, and they only met at intervals at the vicarage or the +Gray House, as Dr. Heriot's house was commonly called. Ethel made no +complaint when she found she had lost her friend, only Mildred noticed +that she grew paler, and drooped visibly. + +Mildred's tender heart bled for the lonely girl. Both she and her +husband pleaded urgently that Ethel should leave her solitary home, and +come to them for a little. But Ethel remained firm in her refusal. + +'Your life is so perfect--so beautiful, Mildred,' she said, once, when +the latter had pressed her almost with tears in her eyes, 'that I could +not break in upon it with my sad face and moping ways. I should be more +wretched than I am now.' + +'But at least you might have some lady with you; such perfect loneliness +is good for no one. I cannot bear to think of you living in a corner of +that great house all by yourself,' returned Mildred, almost vexed with +her obstinacy; and, indeed, the girl was very difficult to understand in +those days. + +'I have no friends but all of you dear people,' she answered, in the +saddest voice possible, 'and I will not trouble you. I could not +tolerate a stranger for a moment. Mildred, you must not be hurt with me; +you do not know. I must have my way in this.' + +And though Mildred shook her wise head, and Dr. Heriot entered more than +one laughing protest against such determined self-will, they were +obliged to yield. + +It was a strange life for so young a woman, and would have tried the +strongest nerves; but the only wisdom that Ethel Trelawny showed was in +not allowing herself an idle moment. The old dreaming habits were broken +for ever, the fastidious choice of duties altogether forgotten; her days +were chiefly devoted to her steward and tenants. + +Richard, returning from his parochial visits to some outlying village, +often met her, mounted on her beautiful brown mare, Zoź. Sometimes she +would stop and give him her slim hand, and let him pet the mare and talk +to her leaning on Zoź's glossy neck; but oftener a wave of the hand and +a passing smile were her only greeting. Richard would come in stern and +weary from these encounters, but he never spoke of them. + +It was in the following spring that Boy and Polly were married. + +Roy had been successful and had sold another picture, and as Mr. Lambert +was disposed to be liberal to his younger son, there was no fear of +opposition from Polly's guardian, even if he could have resisted the +pleadings of the young people. + +But, after all, there was no actual imprudence. If Roy failed to find a +continuous market for his pictures, there was still no risk of positive +starvation. Mr. Lambert had been quite willing to listen to Richard's +representations, and to settle a moderate sum on Roy; for the present, +at least, they would have enough and to spare, and the responsibility of +a young wife would add a spur to Roy's genius. + +Richard was not behind in his generosity. Already his frugality had +amassed a few hundreds, half of which he placed in Roy's hands. Roy +spent a whole day in Wardour Street after that. A wagon, laden with old +carved furniture and wonderful _bric-ą-brac_, drew up before The +Hollies. New crimson velvet curtains and a handsome carpet found their +way to the old studio. Polly hardly recognised it when she first set +foot in the gorgeous apartment, and heaved a private sigh over the dear +old shabby furniture. A little carved work-table and a davenport of +Indian wood stood in a corner appropriated to her use; a sleep-wooing +couch and a softly-cushioned easy-chair were beside them. Polly cried a +little with joy when the young husband pointed out the various +contrivances for her comfort. All the pretty dresses Dr. Heriot had +given her, and even Aunt Milly's thoughtful present of house-linen, +which now lay in the new press, with a sweet smell of lavender breathing +through every fold, were as nothing compared to Roy's gifts. After all, +it was an ideal wedding; there was youth, health, and good looks, with +plenty of honest love and good humour. + +'I have perfect faith in Polly's good sense,' Dr. Heriot had said to his +wife, when the young people bad driven away; 'she has just the qualities +Rex wants. I should not wonder if they turn out the happiest couple in +the world, with the exception of ourselves, Milly, darling.' + +The wedding had taken place in June, and the time had now come round for +the rush-bearing. The garden of Kirkleatham, the vicarage, and the Gray +House had been visited by the young band of depredators. Dr. Heriot's +glass-house had been rifled of its choicest blossoms; Mildred's bonnie +boy, still in his nurse's arms, crowed and clapped his hands at the +great white Annunciation lily that his mother had chosen for him to +carry. + +'You will not be late, John?' pleaded Mildred, as she followed him to +the door, according to her invariable custom, on the morning of St. +Peter's day; his wife's face was the last he saw when he quitted his +home for his long day's work. At the well-known click of the gate she +would lay down her work, at whatever hour it was, and come smiling to +meet him. + +'Where are you, Milly, darling?' were always his first words, if she +lingered a moment on her way. + +'You will not be later than you can help?' she continued, brushing off a +spot of dust on his sleeve. 'You must see Arnold carry his lily, and +Ethel will be there; and--and--' blushing and laughing, 'you know I +never can enjoy anything unless you are with me.' + +'Fie, Milly, darling, we ought to be more sensible after two years. We +are old married folks now, but if it were not for making my wife +vain,'--looking at the sweet, serene face so near his own,--'I might say +the same. There, I must not linger if I am under orders. Good-bye, my +two treasures,' placing the great blue-eyed fellow in Mildred's arms. + +When Mildred arrived at the park, under Richard's guardianship,--he had +undertaken to drive her and the child,--they found Ethel at the old +trysting-place amongst a host of other ladies, looking sad and weary. + +She moved towards them, tall and shadowy, in her black dress. + +'I am glad you are here,' said Richard, in a low voice. 'I thought the +Delawares would persuade you, and you will be quiet enough at the +vicarage.' + +'I thought I ought to do honour to my godson's first appearance in +public,' returned Ethel, stretching out her arms to the smiling boy. + +Mildred and Dr. Heriot had begged Olive to fill the position of sponsor +to the younger Arnold; but Olive had refused almost with tears. + +'I am not good enough. Do not ask me,' she had pleaded; and Mildred, +knowing the girl's sad humours, had transferred the request to Ethel; +her brother and Richard had stood with her. + +Richard had no time to say more, for already the band had struck up that +heralded the approach of the little rush-bearers, and he must take his +place at the head of the procession with the other clergy. + +She saw him again in church; he came down the chancel to receive the +children's gay crowns. Ethel saw a broken lily lying amongst them on the +altar afterwards. It struck her that his face looked somewhat sterner +and paler than usual. + +She was one of the invited guests at the vicarage; the Lamberts were +this year up at the Hall; but later on in the afternoon they met in the +Hall gardens: he came up at once and accosted her. + +'All this is jarring on you terribly,' he said, with his old +thoughtfulness, as he noticed her tired face. + +'I should be glad to go home certainly, but I do not like to appear rude +to the Delawares; the music is so noisy, and all those flitting dancers +between the trees confuse one's head.' + +'Suppose we walk a little way from them,' he returned, quietly. No one +but a keen observer could have read a determined purpose under that +quietness of his; Ethel's worn face, her changed manners, were driving +him desperate; the time had come that he would take his fate between his +hands, like a man; so he told himself, as they walked side by side. + +They had sauntered into the tree-bordered walk, leading to the old +summer-house in the meadows. As they reached it, Ethel turned to him +with a new sort of timidity in her face and voice. + +'I am not tired, Richard--not very tired, I mean. I would rather go back +to the others.' + +'We will go back presently. Ethel, I want to speak to you--I must speak +to you; this sort of thing cannot go on any longer.' + +'What do you mean?' she asked, turning very pale, but not looking at +him. + +'That we cannot go on any longer avoiding each other like this. You have +avoided me very often lately--have you not, Ethel?' speaking very +gently. + +'I do not know; you are so changed--you are not like yourself, Richard,' +she faltered. + +'How can I be like myself?' he answered, with a sudden passion in his +voice that made her tremble; 'how am I to forget that I am a poor +curate, and you your father's heiress; that I have fifties where you +have thousands? Oh, Ethel, if you were only poor,' his tone sinking into +pathos. + +'What have riches or poverty to do with it?' she asked, still averting +her face from him. + +'Do you not see? Can you not understand?' he returned, eagerly. 'If you +were poor, would it not make my wooing easier? I have loved you how +long, Ethel? Is it ten or eleven years? I was a boy of fourteen when I +loved you first, and I have never swerved from my allegiance.' + +'Never!' in a low voice. + +'Never! When you called me Coeur-de-Lion, I swore then, lad as I was, +that I would one day win my Berengaria. You have been the dearest thing +in life to me, ever since I first saw you; and now that I should lose my +courage over these pitiful riches! Oh, Ethel, it is hard--hard, just +when a little hope was dawning on me that one day you might be able to +return my affection. Was I wrong in that belief?' trying to obtain a +glimpse of the face now shielded by her hands. + +'Whatever I may feel, I know we are equals,' she returned evasively. + +'In one sense we are not,' he answered, sadly; 'a woman ought not to +come laden with riches to overwhelm her husband. I am a clergyman--a +gentleman, and therefore I fear to ask you to be my wife.' + +'Was Berengaria poor?' in a voice nearly inaudible; but he heard it, and +his handsome face flushed with sudden emotion. + +'Do you mean you are willing to be my Berengaria? Oh, Ethel, my own +love, this is too much. Can you really care for me enough?' + +'I have cared for you ever since you were so good to me in my trouble,' +she said, turning her glowing countenance, that he might read the truth +of her words; 'but you have made me very unhappy lately, Richard.' + +'What could I do?' he answered, almost incoherent with joy. 'I thought +you were treating me like a brother, and I feared to break in upon your +grief. Oh, if you knew what I have suffered.' + +'I understood, and that only made me love you all the more,' she +replied, softly. 'You have been winning my heart slowly ever since that +evening--you remember it?--in the kitchen garden.' + +'When you almost broke my heart, was I likely to forget it, do you +think?' + +'You startled me. I had only a little love, but it has been growing ever +since. Richard!' with her old archness, 'you will not refuse to see the +lawyers now?' + +He coloured slightly, and his bright look clouded; but this time Ethel +did not misunderstand him. + +'Dear Richard, you cannot hate the riches more than I do, but they must +never be mentioned again between us; they must be sacred to us as my +father's gift. I know you will help me to do what is right and good with +them,' she continued, in her winning way; 'they are talents we must use, +and not abuse.' + +'You have rebuked me, my dearest,' returned Richard, tenderly; 'it is I +who have been faithless and a coward. I will accept the charge you have +given me; and thank God at the same time for your noble heart.' + +So the long-desired gift had come into Richard Lambert's keeping, and +the woman he had loved from boyhood had consented to be his wife. + +The young master of Kirkleatham ruled well and wisely, and Ethel proved +a noble helpmeet. When some years later his father died, and he became +vicar of Kirkby Stephen, the parish had reason to bless the strong heart +and head, and the munificent hands that were never weary of giving. And +'our vicar' rivalled even the good doctor's popularity. + +And what of Olive and Hugh Marsden? + +Mildred's words had come true. + +There were long lonely years before Hugh Marsden--years of incessant +toil and Herculean labour, which should stoop his broad shoulders and +streak his dark hair with gray, when men should speak of the noble +missionary, Hugh Marsden, and of the incredible work carried forward by +him beyond the pale of civilisation. + +There was no limit to his endurance, no lack of cheerfulness in his +efforts, they said; no labour was too great, no scheme too +impracticable, no possibility too remote, for the energies of that +arduous soul. + +Hugh Marsden only smiled at their praise; he was free and unfettered; he +had no wife or child; danger would touch him alone. What should hinder +him from undertaking any enterprise in his Master's service? But +wherever he went in his lonely hours, or in his long sunshiny converse +with others, he ever remained faithful to his memory of Olive; she was +still to him the purest ideal of womanhood. At times her face, with its +cloudy dark hair and fathomless eyes, would haunt him with strange +persistence. Whole lines and passages of her poetry would return to his +memory, stirring him with subtle sweetness and vague longings for home. + +And Olive, how was it with her during those years of home duty, so +patiently, so unselfishly performed? While she achieved her modest fame, +and carried it so meekly, had she any remembrance of Hugh Marsden? + +'I remember all the more that I try to forget,' she said once when +Mildred had put this question to her. 'Now I shall try no more, for I +know I cannot forget him.' And again there had been that sadness in her +voice. But she never spoke of him voluntarily even to Mildred, but hid +in her quiet soul many a secret yearning. They were separated thousands +of miles, yet his honest face and voice were often present with her, and +never nearer than when she whispered prayers for the friend who had once +loved her. + +And neither of them knew that the years would bring them together again; +that one day, Hugh Marsden, broken in health, and craving for a sight of +his native land, should be sent home on an important mission, to find +Olive free and unfettered, and waiting for him in her brother's home. + + +THE END + + + + +THE NOVELS OF ROSA NOUCHETTE CAREY. + + +NELLIE'S MEMORIES. + +_STANDARD._--"Miss Carey has the gift of writing naturally and simply, +her pathos is true and unforced, and her conversations are sprightly and +sharp." + + +WEE WIFIE. + +_LADY._--"Miss Carey's novels are always welcome; they are out of the +common run, immaculately pure, and very high in tone." + + +BARBARA HEATHCOTE'S TRIAL. + +_DAILY TELEGRAPH._--"A novel of a sort which it would be a real loss to +miss." + + +ROBERT ORD'S ATONEMENT. + +_STANDARD._--"Robert Ord's Atonement is a delightful book, very quiet as +to its story, but very strong in character, and instinctive with that +delicate pathos which is the salient point of all the writings of this +author." + + +WOOED AND MARRIED. + +_STANDARD._--"There is plenty of romance in the heroine's life. But it +would not be fair to tell our readers wherein that romance consists or +how it ends. Let them read the book for themselves. We will undertake to +promise that they will like it." + + +HERIOT'S CHOICE. + +_MORNING POST._--"Deserves to be extensively known and read.... Will +doubtless find as many admirers as readers." + + +QUEENIE'S WHIM. + +_GUARDIAN._--"A thoroughly good and wholesome story." + + +NOT LIKE OTHER GIRLS. + +_PALL MALL GAZETTE._--"Like all the other stories we have had from the +same gifted pen, this volume, Not Like Other Girls, takes a sane and +healthy view of life and its concerns.... It is an excellent story to +put in the hands of girls." + +_NEW YORK HOME JOURNAL._--"One of the sweetest, daintiest, and most +interesting of the season's publications." + + +MARY ST. JOHN. + +_JOHN BULL._--"The story is a simple one, but told with much grace and +unaffected pathos." + + +FOR LILIAS. + +_VANITY FAIR._--"A simple, earnest, and withal very interesting story; +well conceived, carefully worked out, and sympathetically told." + + +UNCLE MAX. + +_LADY._--"So intrinsically good that the world of novel-readers ought to +be genuinely grateful." + + +ONLY THE GOVERNESS. + +_PALL MALL GAZETTE._--"This novel is for those who like stories with +something of Jane Austen's power, but with more intensity of feeling +than Jane Austen displayed, who are not inclined to call pathos twaddle, +and who care to see life and human nature in their most beautiful form." + + +LOVER OR FRIEND? + +_GUARDIAN._--"The refinement of style and delicacy of thought will make +_Lover or Friend?_ popular with all readers who are not too deeply +bitten with a desire for things improbable in their lighter literature." + + +BASIL LYNDHURST. + +_PALL MALL GAZETTE._--"We doubt whether anything has been written of +late years so fresh, so pretty, so thoroughly natural and bright. The +novel as a whole is charming." + + +SIR GODFREY'S GRANDDAUGHTERS. + +_OBSERVER._--"A capital story. The interest steadily grows, and by the +time one reaches the third volume the story has become enthralling." + + +THE OLD, OLD STORY. + +_DAILY NEWS._--"Miss Carey's fluent pen has not lost its power of +writing fresh and wholesome fiction." + + +THE MISTRESS OF BRAE FARM. + +_PALL MALL GAZETTE._--"Miss Carey's untiring pen loses none of its +power, and her latest work is as gracefully written, as full of quiet +home charm, as fresh and wholesome, so to speak, as its many +predecessors." + + +MRS. ROMNEY and "BUT MEN MUST WORK." + +_PALL MALL GAZETTE._--"By no means the least attractive of the works of +this charming writer." + + +OTHER PEOPLE'S LIVES. + + +RUE WITH A DIFFERENCE. + +_BOOKMAN._--"Fresh and charming.... A piece of distinctly good work." + +_ATHENĘUM._--"A pretty love story." + + +HERB OF GRACE. + +_GLOBE._--"Told in the writer's best and most popular manner." + +_WORLD._--"The story is well conceived and well sustained." + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Heriot's Choice, by Rosa Nouchette Carey + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HERIOT'S CHOICE *** + +***** This file should be named 35901-8.txt or 35901-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/5/9/0/35901/ + +Produced by Chris Curnow, Lindy Walsh, Mary Meehan and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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text-indent: -3em;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Heriot's Choice, by Rosa Nouchette Carey + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Heriot's Choice + A Tale + +Author: Rosa Nouchette Carey + +Release Date: April 18, 2011 [EBook #35901] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HERIOT'S CHOICE *** + + + + +Produced by Chris Curnow, Lindy Walsh, Mary Meehan and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<h1>HERIOT'S CHOICE</h1> + +<h3>A Tale</h3> + +<h2>BY ROSA NOUCHETTE CAREY</h2> + +<h3>AUTHOR OF 'NELLIE'S MEMORIES,' 'NOT LIKE OTHER GIRLS,' 'SIR GODFREY'S +GRANDDAUGHTERS,' ETC.</h3> + + +<h3>London<br /> +MACMILLAN AND CO., <span class="smcap">Limited</span><br /> +NEW YORK: THE MACMILLAN COMPANY<br /> +1902</h3> + +<h3><i>All rights reserved</i></h3> + +<h3><i>First Edition, 3 Vols. Crown 8vo, 31s. 6d., 1879</i><br /> +<i>Second Edition, 1 Vol. Crown 8vo, 6s., 1890</i><br /> +<i>Reprinted 1891, 1895,(3s. 6d.) 1898</i><br /> +<i>Transferred to Macmillan & Co., Ltd., August 1898, 1902</i></h3> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h3>TO<br /> +The Rev. Canon Simpson, LL.D.<br /> +THIS STORY<br /> +IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED BY<br /> +THE AUTHOR</h3> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. --> +<p> +<a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I. '<span class="smcap">Say Yes, Milly</span>'</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II. '<span class="smcap">If you please, may I bring Rag and Tatters?</span>'</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III. <span class="smcap">Viā Tebay</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV. <span class="smcap">Mildred's new Home</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V. <span class="smcap">Olive</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI. <span class="smcap">Cain and Abel</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII. <span class="smcap">A Mother in Israel</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII. '<span class="smcap">Ethel the Magnificent</span>'</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX. <span class="smcap">Kirkleatham</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X. <span class="smcap">The Rush-bearing</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI. <span class="smcap">An Afternoon in Castlesteads</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII. <span class="smcap">The Well-meaning Mischief-maker</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII. <span class="smcap">A Youthful Draco and Solon</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV. <span class="smcap">Richard Cœur-de-Lion</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV. <span class="smcap">The Gate Ajar</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI. <span class="smcap">Coming Back</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII. <span class="smcap">Three Years Afterwards—A Retrospect</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII. <span class="smcap">Olive's Work</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX. <span class="smcap">The Heart of Cœur-de-Lion</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX. <span class="smcap">Wharton Hall Farm</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI. <span class="smcap">Under Stenkrith Bridge</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII. <span class="smcap">Dr. Heriot's Ward</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII. '<span class="smcap">And Maidens call it Love-in-Idleness</span>'</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV. <span class="smcap">The Deserted Cotton-mill in Hilbeck Glen</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">CHAPTER XXV. <span class="smcap">Royal</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">CHAPTER XXVI. '<span class="smcap">Is that Letter for Me, Aunt Milly?</span>'</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">CHAPTER XXVII. <span class="smcap">Coop Kernan Hole</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">CHAPTER XXVIII. <span class="smcap">Dr. Heriot's Mistake</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">CHAPTER CHAPTER XXIX. <span class="smcap">The Cottage at Frognal</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">CHAPTER XXX. '<span class="smcap">I cannot Sing the Old Songs</span>'</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">CHAPTER XXXI. '<span class="smcap">Which shall it be?</span>'</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">CHAPTER XXXII. <span class="smcap">A Talk in Fairlight Glen</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII">CHAPTER XXXIII. '<span class="smcap">Yes</span>'</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV">CHAPTER XXXIV. <span class="smcap">John Heriot's Wife</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXV">CHAPTER XXXV. <span class="smcap">Olive's Decision</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVI">CHAPTER XXXVI. <span class="smcap">Berengaria</span></a><br /><br /> +<a href="#THE_NOVELS_OF_ROSA_NOUCHETTE_CAREY">THE NOVELS OF ROSA NOUCHETTE CAREY.</a><br /> +</p> +<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. --> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>HERIOT'S CHOICE</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3>'SAY YES, MILLY'</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Man's importunity is God's opportunity.'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'O fair, O fine, O lot to be desired!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Early and late my heart appeals to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And says, "O work, O will—Thou man, be fired,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To earn this lot—" she says—"I would not be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A worker for mine own bread, or one hired<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For mine own profit. O, I would be free<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To work for others; love so earned of them<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should be my wages and my diadem."'—<span class="smcap">Jean Ingelow.</span><br /></span> +</div></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>'Say yes, Milly.'</p> + +<p>Three short words, and yet they went straight to Milly's heart. It was +only the postscript of a long, sorrowful letter—the finale brief but +eloquent—of a quiet, dispassionate appeal; but it sounded to Mildred +Lambert much as the Macedonian cry must have sounded of old: 'Come over +and help us.'</p> + +<p>Mildred's soft, womanly nature was capable of only one response to such +a demand. Assent was more than probable, and bordered on certainty, even +before the letter was laid aside, and while her cheek was yet paling at +the thought of new responsibilities and the vast unknown, wherein duty +must tread on the heel of inclination, and life must press out thought +and the worn-out furrows of intro- and retrospection.</p> + +<p>And so it was that the page of a negative existence was turned; and +Mildred agreed to become the inmate of her brother's home.</p> + +<p>'Aunt Milly!' How pleasant it would be to hear that again, and to be in +the centre of warm young life and breathless activity, after the torpor +of long waiting and watching, and the hush and the blank and the +drawn-out pain, intense yet scarcely felt, of the last seven years.</p> + +<p>To begin life in its fulness at eight-and-twenty; to taste of its real +sweets and bitters, after it had offered to her nothing but the pale +brackish flavour of regret for a passing youth and wasted powers, +responsive rather than suggestive (if there be such monstrous anomaly on +the whole face of God's creation), nothing being wasted, and all +pronounced good, that comes direct from the Divine Hand. To follow fresh +tracks when the record of the years had left nothing but the traces of +the chariot-wheels of daily monotonous duties that dragged heavily, when +summer and winter and seed-time and harvest found Mildred still through +those seven revolving courses of seasons within the walls of that quiet +sickroom.</p> + +<p>It is given to some women to look back on these long level blanks of +life; on mysteries of waiting, that intervene between youth and work, +when the world's noise comes dimly to them, like the tumult of city's +streets through closed shutters; when pain and hardship seem preferable +to their death-in-life, and they long to prove the armour that has grown +rusted with disuse.</p> + +<p>How many a volume could be written, and with profit, on the watchers as +well as the workers of life, on the bystanders as well as the sufferers. +'Patient hearts their pain to see.' Well has this thought been embodied +in the words of a nineteenth-century Christian poet; while to many a +pallid malcontent, wearied with inaction and panting for strife, might +the Divine words still be applied: 'Could ye not have watched with Me +one hour?'</p> + +<p>Mildred Lambert's life for eight-and-twenty years might be summed up in +a few sentences. A happy youth, scarcely clouded by the remembrance of a +dead father and the graves of the sisters that came between her infancy +and the maturer age of her only brother; and then the blurred brightness +when Arnold, who had married before he had taken orders, became the +hard-working vicar of a remote Westmorland parish—and he and his wife +and children passed out of Milly's daily life.</p> + +<p>Milly was barely nineteen when this happened; but even then her +mother—who had always been ailing—was threatened with a chronic +complaint involving no ordinary suffering; and now began the long seven +years' watching which faded Milly's youth and roses together.</p> + +<p>Milly had never known how galling had been the strain to the nerves—how +intense her own tenacity of will and purpose, till she had folded her +mother's pale hands together; and with a lassitude too great for tears, +felt as she crept away that her work was finished none too soon, and +that even her firm young strength was deserting her.</p> + +<p>Trouble had not come singly to Mildred. News of her sister-in-law's +unexpected death had reached her, just before her mother's last brief +attack, and her brother had been too much stunned by his own loss to +come to her in her loneliness.</p> + +<p>Not that Milly wondered at this. She loved Arnold dearly; but he was so +much older, and they had grown necessarily so apart. He and his wife had +been all in all to each other; and the family in the vicarage had seemed +so perfected and completed that the little petted Milly of old days +might well plead that she was all but forgotten.</p> + +<p>But Betha's death had altered this; and Arnold's letter, written as good +men will write when their heart is well-nigh broken, came to Mildred as +she sat alone in her black dress in her desolate home.</p> + +<p>New work—unknown work—and that when youth's elasticity seemed gone, +and spirits broken or at least dangerously quieted by the morbid +atmosphere of sickness and hypochondria. They say the prisoner of twenty +years will weep at leaving his cell. The tears that Mildred shed that +night were more for the mother she had lost and the old safe life of the +past, than pity for the widowed brother and motherless children.</p> + +<p>Do we ever outlive our selfishness? Do we ever cease to be fearful for +ourselves?</p> + +<p>And yet Mildred was weary of solitude. Arnold was her own, her only +brother; and Aunt Milly—well, perhaps it might be pleasant.</p> + +<p>'Say yes, Milly—for Betha's sake—for my darling's sake (she was so +fond of you), if not for mine. Think how her children miss her! Matters +are going wrong already. It is not their fault, poor things; but I am so +helpless to decide. I used to leave everything to her, and we are all so +utterly lost.</p> + +<p>'I could not have asked you if our mother had lingered; but your +faithful charge, my poor Milly, is over—your martyrdom, as Betha called +it. She was so bright, and loved to have things so bright round her, +that your imprisonment in the sickroom quite oppressed her. It was "poor +Milly," "our dear good Milly," to the last. I wish her girls were more +like her; but she only laughed at their odd ways, and told me I should +live to be proud of them.</p> + +<p>'Olive is as left-handed as ever, and Chrissy little better. Richard is +mannish, but impracticable, and a little difficult to understand. We +should none of us get on at all but for Roy: he has his mother's +heart-sunshine and loving smile; but even Roy has his failures.</p> + +<p>'We want a woman among us, Milly—a woman with head and hands, and a +tolerable stock of patience. Even Heriot is in difficulties, but that +will keep till you come—for you will come, will you not, my dear?'</p> + +<p>'Come! how could you doubt me, Arnold?' replied Mildred, as she laid +down the letter; but 'God help me and them' followed close on the sigh.</p> + +<p>'After all, it is a clear call to duty,' she soliloquised. 'It is not my +business to decide on my fitness or unfitness, or to measure myself to +my niche. We are not promised strength before the time, and no one can +tell before he tries whether he be likely to fail. Richard's +mannishness, and Olive's left-handed ways, and Chrissy's poorer +imitation, shall not daunt me. Arnold wants me. I shall be of use to +some one again, and I will go.'</p> + +<p>But Mildred, for all her bravery, grew a little pale over her brother's +second letter:—'You must come at once, and not wait to summer and +winter it, or, as some of our old women say, "to bide the bitterment +on't." Shall I send Richard to help you about your house business, and +to settle your goods and chattels? Let the old furniture go, Milly; it +has stood a fair amount of wear and tear, and you are young yet, my +dear. Shall I send Dick? He was his mother's right hand. The lad's +mannish for his nineteen years.' Mannish again! This Richard began to be +formidable. He was a bright well-looking lad of thirteen when Mildred +had seen him last. But she remembered his mother's fond descriptions of +Cardie's cleverness and goodness. One sentence had particularly struck +her at the time. Betha had been comparing her boys, and dwelling on +their good points with a mother's partiality. 'As to Roy, he needs no +praise of mine; he stands so well in every one's estimation—and in his +own, too—that a little fault-finding would do him good. Cardie is +different: his diffidence takes the form of pride; no one understands +him but I—not even his father. The one speaks out too much, and the +other too little; but one of these days he will find out his son's good +heart.'</p> + +<p>'I wonder if Arnold will recognise me,' thought Mildred, sorrowfully, +that night, as she sat by her window, looking out on her little strip of +garden, shimmering in the moonlight. 'I feel so old and changed, and +have grown into such quiet ways. Are there some women who are never +young, I wonder? Am I one of them? Is it not strange,' she continued, +musingly, 'that such beautiful lives as Betha's are struck so suddenly +out of the records of years, while I am left to take up the incompleted +work she discharged so lovingly? Dear Betha! what a noble heart it was! +Arnold reverenced as much as he loved her. How vain to think of +replacing, even in the faintest degree; one of the sweetest women this +earth ever saw: sweet, because her whole life was in exact harmony with +her surroundings.' And there rose before Mildred's eyes a faint image +that often haunted her—of a face with smiling eyes, and brown hair just +touched with gold—and the small firm hand that, laid on unruly lips, +could hush coming wrath, and smooth the angry knitting of baby brows.</p> + +<p>It was strange, she thought, that neither Olive nor Chrissy were like +their mother. Roy's fairness and steady blue eyes were her sole +relics—Roy, who was such a pretty little fellow when Mildred had seen +him last.</p> + +<p>Mildred tried to trace out a puzzled thought in her head before she +slept that night. A postscript in Arnold's letter, vaguely worded, but +most decidedly mysterious, gave rise to a host of conjectures.</p> + +<p>'I have just found out that Heriot's business must be settled long +before the end of next month—when you come to us. You know him by name +and repute, though not personally. I have given him your address. I +think it will be better for you both to talk the matter over, and to +give it your full consideration, before you start for the north. Make +any arrangements you like about the child. Heriot's a good fellow, and +deserves to be helped; he has been everything to us through our +trouble.'</p> + +<p>What could Arnold mean? Betha's chatty letters—thoroughly womanly in +their gossip—had often spoken of Arnold's friend, Dr. Heriot, and of +his kindness to their boys. She had described him as a man of great +talents, and an undoubted acquisition to their small society. 'Arnold +(who was her universal referee) wondered that a man like Dr. Heriot +should bury himself in a Westmorland valley. Some one had told them that +he had given up a large West End practice. There was some mystery about +him; his wife made him miserable. No one knew the rights or the wrongs +of it; but they would rather believe any thing than that he was to +blame.'</p> + +<p>And in another letter she wrote: 'A pleasant evening has just been sadly +interrupted. The Bishop was here and one or two others, Dr. Heriot among +them; but a telegram summoning him to his wife's deathbed had just +reached him.</p> + +<p>'Arnold, who stood by him, says he turned as pale as death as he read +it; but he only put it into his hand without a word, and left the room. +I could not help following him with a word of comfort, remembering how +good he was to us when we had nearly lost Chrissy last year; but he +looked at me so strangely that the words died on my lips. "When death +only relieves us of a burden, Mrs. Lambert, we touch on a sorrow too +great for any ordinary comfort. You are sorry for me, but pray for her." +And wringing my hand, he turned away. She must have been a bad wife to +him. He is a good man; I am sure of it.'</p> + +<p>How strange that Dr. Heriot should be coming to see her, and on private +business, too! It seemed so odd of Arnold to send him; and yet it was +pleasant to feel that she was to be consulted and her opinion respected. +'Mildred, who loves to help everybody, must find some way of helping +poor Heriot,' had been her brother's concluding words.</p> + +<p>Mildred Lambert's house was one of those modest suburban residences +lying far back on a broad sunny road bordering on Clapham Common; but on +a May afternoon even Laurel Cottage, unpretentious as it was, was not +devoid of attractions, with its trimly cut lawn and clump of +sweet-scented lilac and yellow drooping laburnum, stretching out long +fingers of gold in the sunshine.</p> + +<p>Mildred was sitting alone in her little drawing-room, ostensibly sorting +her papers, but in reality falling into an occasional reverie, lulled by +the sunshine and the silence, when a brisk footstep on the gravel +outside the window made her start. Visitors were rare in her secluded +life, and, with the exception of the doctor and the clergyman, and +perhaps a sympathising neighbour, few ever invaded the privacy of Laurel +Cottage; the light, well-assured footstep sounded strange in Mildred's +ears, and she listened with inward perturbation to Susan's brief +colloquy with the stranger.</p> + +<p>'Yes, her mistress was disengaged; would he send in his name and +business, or would he walk in?' And the door was flung open a little +testily by Susan, who objected to this innovation on their usual +afternoon quiet.</p> + +<p>'Forgive me, if I am intruding, Miss Lambert, but your brother told me I +might call.'</p> + +<p>'Dr. Heriot?'</p> + +<p>'Yes; he has kept his promise then, and has written to inform you of my +intended visit? We have heard so much of each other that I am sure we +ought to need no special introduction.' But though Dr. Heriot, as he +said this, held out his hand with a frank smile, a grave, penetrating +look accompanied his words; he was a man rarely at fault, but for the +moment he seemed a little perplexed.</p> + +<p>'Yes, I expected you; will you sit down?' replied Mildred, simply. She +was not a demonstrative woman, and of late had grown into quiet ways +with strangers. Dr. Heriot's tone had slightly discomposed her; +instinctively she felt that he failed to recognise in her some given +description, and that a brief embarrassment was the result.</p> + +<p>Mildred was right. Dr. Heriot was trying to puzzle out some connection +between the worn, soft-eyed woman before him, and the fresh girlish face +that had so often smiled down on him from the vicarage wall, with shy, +demure eyes, and the roses in her belt not brighter than the pure +colouring of her bloom. The laughing face had grown sad and +quiet—painfully so, Dr. Heriot thought—and faint lines round mouth and +brow bore witness to the strain of a wearing anxiety and habitual +repression of feeling; the skin of the forehead was too tightly +stretched, and the eyes shone too dimly for health; while the thin, +colourless cheek, seen in juxtaposition to the black dress, told their +own story of youthful vitality sacrificed to the inexorable demand of +hypochondria.</p> + +<p>But it was a refined, womanly face, and one that could not fail to +interest; a kind patient soul looked through the quiet eyes; youth and +its attractions had faded, but a noble unconsciousness had replaced it; +in talking to her you felt instinctively that the last person of whom +Mildred thought was herself. But if Dr. Heriot were disappointed in the +estimate he had formed of his friend's sister, Mildred on her side was +not the less surprised at his appearance.</p> + +<p>She had imagined him a man of imposing aspect—a man of height and +inches, with iron-gray hair. The real Dr. Heriot was dark and slight, +rather undersized than otherwise, with a dark moustache, and black, +closely-cropped hair, which made him look younger than he really was. It +was not a handsome face; at first sight there was something stern and +forbidding about it, but the lines round the mouth relaxed pleasantly +when he smiled, and the eyes had a clear, straightforward look; while +about the whole man there was a certain indefinable air of +good-breeding, as of one long accustomed to hold his own amongst men who +were socially his superiors.</p> + +<p>Mildred had taken her measurement of Dr. Heriot in her own quiet way +long before she had exhausted her feminine budget of conversation: the +fineness of the weather, the long dusty journey, his need of +refreshment, and inquiries after her brother's health and spirits.</p> + +<p>'He is not a man to be embarrassed, but his business baffles him,' she +thought to herself; 'he is ill at ease, and unhappy. I must try and meet +him half-way.' And accordingly Mildred began in her straightforward +manner.</p> + +<p>'It is a long way to come up on business, Dr. Heriot. Arnold told me you +had difficulties, though he did not explain their nature. Strange to +say, he spoke as though I could be of some assistance to you!'</p> + +<p>'I have no right to burden you,' he returned, somewhat incoherently; +'you look little fit now to cope with such responsibilities as must fall +to your share. Would not rest and change be beneficial before entering +on new work?'</p> + +<p>'I am not talking of myself,' returned Mildred, with a faint smile, +though her colour rose at the unmistakable tone of sympathy in Dr. +Heriot's voice. 'My time for rest will come presently. Is it true, Dr. +Heriot, that I can be of any service to you?'</p> + +<p>'You shall judge,' was the answer. 'I will meet your kindness with +perfect frankness. My business in London at the present moment concerns +a little girl—a distant relative of my poor wife's—who has lost her +only remaining parent. Her father and I were friends in our student +days; and in a weak moment I accepted a presumptive guardianship over +the child. I thought Philip Ellison was as likely as not to outlive me, +and as he had some money left him there seemed very little risk about +the whole business.'</p> + +<p>Mildred gave him a glance full of intelligence. It was clear to her now +wherein Dr. Heriot's difficulty lay. He was still too young a man to +have the sole guardianship of a motherless orphan.</p> + +<p>'Philip was but a few years older than myself, and, as he explained to +me, it was only a purely business arrangement, and that in case of his +death he wished to have a disinterested person to look after his +daughter's interest. Things were different with me then, and I had no +scruples in acceding to his wish. But Philip Ellison was a bad manager, +and on an evil day was persuaded to invest his money in some rotten +company—heaven knows what!—and as a natural consequence lost every +penny. Since then I have heard little about him. He was an artist, but +not a rising one; he travelled a great deal in France and Germany, and +now and then he would send over pictures to be sold, but I am afraid he +made out only a scanty subsistence for himself and his little daughter. +A month ago I received news of his death, and as she has not a near +relation living, except some cousins in Australia, I find I have the +sole charge of a girl of fourteen; and I think you will confess, Miss +Lambert, that the position has its difficulties. What in the +world'—here Dr. Heriot's face grew a little comical—'am I to do with a +raw school-girl of fourteen?'</p> + +<p>'What does Arnold suggest?' asked Mildred, quietly. In her own mind she +was perfectly aware what would be her brother's first generous thought.</p> + +<p>'It was my intention to put the child at some good English school, and +have her trained as a governess; but it is a dreary prospect for her, +poor little soul, and somehow I feel as though I ought to do better for +Philip Ellison's daughter. He was one of the proudest men that ever +lived, and was so wrapped up in his child.'</p> + +<p>'But my brother has negatived that, and proposed another plan,' +interrupted Mildred, softly. She knew her brother well.</p> + +<p>'He was generous enough to propose that she should go at once to the +vicarage until some better arrangement could be made. He assured me that +there was ample room for her, and that she could share Olive's and +Chrissy's lessons; but he begged me to refer it to you, as he felt he +had no right to make such an addition to the family circle without your +full consent.'</p> + +<p>'Arnold is very good, but he must have known that I could have no +objection to offer to any plan of which he approves. He is so +kind-hearted, that one could not bear to damp his enthusiasm.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, but think a moment before you decide,' returned Dr Heriot, +earnestly. 'It is quite true that I was bound to your brother and his +wife by no ordinary ties of friendship, and that they would have done +anything for me, but this ought not to be allowed to influence you. If I +accept Mr. Lambert's offer, at least for the present, I shall be adding +to your work, increasing your responsibilities. Olive and Chrissy will +tax your forbearance sufficiently without my bringing this poor little +waif of humanity upon your kindness; and you look so far from strong,' +he continued, with a quick change of tone.</p> + +<p>'I am quite ready for my work,' returned Mildred, firmly; 'looks do not +always speak the truth, Dr. Heriot. Please let me have the charge of +your little ward; she will not be a greater stranger to me than Olive +and Chrissy are. Why, Chrissy was only nine when I saw her last. Ah,' +continued Mildred, folding her hands, and speaking almost to herself, +'if you knew what it will be to me to see myself surrounded by young +faces, to be allowed to love them, and to try to win their love in +return—to feel I am doing real work in God's world, with a real trust +and talent given to me—ah! you must let me help you in this, Dr. +Heriot; you were so good to Betha, and it will make Arnold happy.' And +Mildred stretched out her hand to him with a new impulse, so unlike the +composed manner in which she had hitherto spoken, that Dr. Heriot, +surprised and touched, could find no response but 'God bless you for +this, Miss Lambert!'</p> + +<p>Mildred's gentle primness was thawing visibly under Dr. Heriot's +pleasant manners. By and by, as she presided at the sunny little +tea-table, and pressed welcome refreshment on her weary guest, she heard +more about this strange early friendship of his, and shared his surmises +as to the probable education and character of his ward.</p> + +<p>'She must be a regular Bohemian by this time,' he observed. 'From what I +can hear they were never long in one place. It must be a strange +training for a girl, living in artists' studios, and being the sole +companion of a silent, taciturn man such as Philip was.'</p> + +<p>'She will hardly have the characteristics of other girls,' observed +Mildred.</p> + +<p>'She cannot possibly be more out of the common than Olive. Olive has all +sorts of absurd notions in her head. It is odd Mrs. Lambert's training +should have failed so signally in her girls. I am afraid your +preciseness will be sometimes offended,' he continued, looking round the +room, which, with all its homeliness, had the little finishes that a +woman's hand always gives. 'Olive might have arranged those flowers, but +she would have forgotten to water them, or to exclude their presence +when dead.'</p> + +<p>'You are a nice observer,' returned Mildred, smiling. 'Do not make me +afraid of my duties beforehand, as though I do not exactly know how all +the rooms look! Betha's pretty drawing-room trampled by dirty boots, +Arnold's study a hopeless litter of books, not a corner of the +writing-table clear. Chrissy used them as bricks,' she continued, +laughing. 'Roy and she had a mighty Tower of Babel one day. You should +have seen Arnold's look when he found out that <i>The Seven Lamps of +Architecture</i> laid the foundation; but Betha only laughed, and told him +it served him right.'</p> + +<p>'But she kept them in order, though. In her quiet way she was an +excellent disciplinarian. Well, Miss Lambert, I am trespassing overmuch +on your goodness. To-morrow I am to make my ward's acquaintance—one of +the clique has brought her over from Dieppe—and I am to receive her +from his hands. Would it be troubling you too much if I ask you to +accompany me?—the poor child will feel so forlorn with only men round +her.'</p> + +<p>'I will go with you and bring her home. No, please, do not thank me, Dr. +Heriot. If you knew how lonely I am here——' and for the first time +Mildred's eyes filled with tears.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3>'IF YOU PLEASE, MAY I BRING RAG AND TATTERS?'</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">'O, my Father's hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stroke heavily, heavily the poor hair down,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Draw, press the child's head closer to thy knee—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'm still too young, too young, to sit alone.'—<span class="smcap">Aurora Leigh.</span><br /></span> +</div></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>So this was Polly.</p> + +<p>It was only a shabby studio, where poverty and art fought a hand-to-hand +struggle for the bare maintenance, but among the after scenes of her +busy life Mildred never forgot the place where she first saw Dr. +Heriot's ward; it lingered in her memory, a fair, haunting picture as of +something indescribably sweet and sad.</p> + +<p>Its few accessories were so suggestive of a truer taste made impossible +by paucity of success; an unfinished painting all dim grays and pallid, +watery blues; a Cain fleeing out of a blurred outline of clouds; +fragmentary snatches of colour warming up pitiless details; rickety +chairs and a broken-down table; a breadth of faded tapestry; a jar of +jonquils, the form pure Tuscan, the material rough earthenware, a +plaster Venus, mutilated but grand, shining out from the dull red +background of a torn curtain. A great unfurnished room, full of yellow +light and warm sunshine, and, standing motionless in a ladder of motes +and beams, with brown eyes drinking in the twinkling glory like a young +eagle, was a girl in a shabby black dress, with thin girlish arms +clasped across her breast. For a moment Dr. Heriot paused, and he and +Mildred exchanged glances; the young figure in its forlornness came to +them like a mournful revelation; the immobility was superb, the youthful +languor pitiful. As Dr. Heriot touched her, she turned on them eyes full +of some lost dream, and a large tear that had been gathering +unconsciously brimmed over and splashed down on his hand.</p> + +<p>'My child, have we startled you? Mr. Fabian told us to come up.' For a +moment she looked bewildered. Her thoughts had evidently travelled a +long way, but with consciousness came a look of relief and pleasure.</p> + +<p>'Oh, I knew you would come—papa told me so. Oh, why have you been so +long?—it is three months almost since papa died. Oh, poor papa! poor +papa!' and the flush of joy died out of her face as, clasping her small +nervous hands round Dr. Heriot's arm, she laid her face down on them and +burst into a passion of tears.</p> + +<p>'I sent for you directly I heard; they kept me in ignorance—have they +not told you so? Poor child, how unkind you must have thought me!' and a +grieved look came over Dr. Heriot's face as he gently stroked the +closely-cropped head, that felt like the dark, soft plumage of some +bird.</p> + +<p>'No, I never thought you that,' she sobbed. 'I was only so lonely and +tired of waiting; and then I got ill, and Mr. Fabian was good to me, and +so were the others. But papa had left me to you, and I wanted you to +fetch me. You have come to take me home, have you not?'</p> + +<p>She looked up in his face pleadingly as she said this; she spoke in a +voice sweet, but slightly foreign, but with a certain high-bred accent, +and there was something unique in her whole appearance that struck her +guardian with surprise. The figure was slight and undeveloped, with the +irregularity of fourteen; but the ordinary awkwardness of girlhood was +replaced by dignity, almost grace, of movement. She was +dark-complexioned, but her face was a perfect oval, and the slight down +on the upper lip gave a characteristic but not unpleasing expression to +the mouth, which was firm but flexible; the hair had evidently been cut +off in recent illness, for it was tucked smoothly behind the ears, and +was perfectly short behind, which would have given her a boyish look but +for the extreme delicacy of the whole contour.</p> + +<p>'You have come to take me home, have you not?' she repeated anxiously.</p> + +<p>'This lady has,' he replied, with a look at Mildred, who had stood +modestly in the background. 'I wish I had a home to offer you, my dear; +but my wife is dead, and——'</p> + +<p>'Then you will want me all the more,' she returned eagerly. 'Papa and I +have so often talked about you; he told me how good you were, and how +unhappy.'</p> + +<p>'Hush, Mary,' laying his hand lightly over her lips; but Mildred could +see his colour changed painfully. But she interrupted him a little +petulantly—</p> + +<p>'Nobody calls me Mary, and it sounds so cold and strange.'</p> + +<p>'What then, my dear?'</p> + +<p>'Why, Polly, of course!' opening her brown eyes widely; 'I have always +been Polly—always.'</p> + +<p>'It shall be as you will, my child.'</p> + +<p>'How gently you speak! Are you ever irritable, like papa, I wonder?—he +used to be so ill and silent, and then, when we tried to rouse him, he +could not bear it. Who is this lady, and why do you say you have no home +for me?'</p> + +<p>'She means to be our good friend, Polly—there, will that do? But you +are such a dignified young lady, I should never have ventured to call +you that unasked.'</p> + +<p>'Why not?' she repeated, darting at him a clear, straightforward glance. +Evidently his reticence ruffled her; but Dr. Heriot skilfully evaded the +brief awkwardness.</p> + +<p>'This lady is Miss Lambert, and she is the sister of one of my best +friends; she is going to take charge of his girls and boys, who have +lost their mother, and she has kindly offered to take charge of you +too.'</p> + +<p>'She is very good,' returned Polly, coldly; 'very, very good, I mean,' +as though she had repented of a slight hauteur. 'But I have never had +anything to do with children. Papa and I were always alone, and I would +much rather live with you; you have no idea what a housekeeper I shall +make you. I can dress salad and cook <i>omelettes</i>, and Nanette taught me +how to make <i>potage</i>. I used to take a large basket myself to the market +when we lived at Dresden, when Nanette was so bad with rheumatism.'</p> + +<p>'What an astonishing Polly!'</p> + +<p>'Ah! you are laughing at me,' drawing herself up proudly, and turning +away so that he should not see the tears in her eyes.</p> + +<p>'My dear Polly, is that a "crime"?'</p> + +<p>'It is when people are in earnest I have said nothing that deserves +laughing at—have I, Miss Lambert?' with a sweet, candid glance that won +Mildred's heart.</p> + +<p>'No, indeed; I was wishing that my nieces were like you.'</p> + +<p>'I did not mean that—I was not asking for praise,' stammered Polly, +turning a vivid scarlet. 'I only wanted my guardian to know that I +should not be useless to him. I can do much more than that I can mend +and darn better than Annette, who was three years older. You are smiling +still.'</p> + +<p>'If I smile, it is only with pleasure to know my poor friend had such a +good daughter. Listen to me, Polly—how old are you?'</p> + +<p>'Fourteen last February.'</p> + +<p>'What a youthful Polly!—too young, I fear, to comprehend the position. +And then with such Bohemian surroundings—that half-crazed painter, +Fabian,' he muttered, 'and a purblind fiddler and his wife. My poor +child,' he continued, laying his hand on her head lightly, and speaking +as though moved in spite of himself, 'as long as you want a friend, you +will never find a truer one than John Heriot. I will be your guardian, +adopted father, what you will; but,' with a firmness of voice that +struck the girl in spite of herself, 'I cannot have you to live with me, +Polly.'</p> + +<p>'Why not?' she asked, pleadingly.</p> + +<p>'Because it would be placing us both in a false position; because I +could not incur such a responsibility; because no one is so fit to take +charge of a young girl as a good motherly woman, such as you will find, +in Miss Lambert.' And as the girl looked at him bewildered and +disappointed, he continued kindly, 'You must forget this pleasant dream, +Polly; perhaps some day, when your guardian is gray-haired, it may come +to pass; but I shall often think how good my adopted daughter meant to +be to me.'</p> + +<p>'Shall I never see you then?' asked Polly mournfully.</p> + +<p>If these were English ways, the girl thought, what a cold, heartless +place it must be! Had not Mr. Fabian promised to adopt her if the +English guardian should not be forthcoming? Even Herr Schreiber had +offered to keep her out of his poor salary, when her father's death had +left her dependent on the little community of struggling artists and +musicians. Polly was having her first lesson in the troublesome +<i>convenances</i> of life, and to the affectionate, ardent girl it was +singularly unpalatable.</p> + +<p>'I am afraid you will see me every day,' replied her guardian, with much +gravity. 'I shall not be many yards off—just round the corner, and +across the market-place. No, no, Miss Polly; you will not get rid of me +so easily. I mean to direct your studies, haunt your play-time, and be +the cross old Mentor, as Olive calls me.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, I am so glad!' returned the girl earnestly, and with a sparkle of +pleasure in her eyes. 'I like you so much already that I could not bear +you to do wrong.'</p> + +<p>It was Heriot's turn to look puzzled.</p> + +<p>'Would it not be wrong,' she returned, answering the look, 'when papa +trusted me to you, and told me on his deathbed that you would be my +second father, if you were to send me right away from you, and take no +notice of me at all!'</p> + +<p>'I should hardly do that in any case,' returned her guardian, seriously. +'What a downright, unconventional little soul you are, Polly! You may +set your mind at rest; your father's trust shall be redeemed, his child +shall never be neglected by me. But come—you have not made Miss +Lambert's acquaintance. I hope you mean to tell her next you like her.'</p> + +<p>'She looks good, but sad—are you sad?' touching Mildred's sleeve +timidly.</p> + +<p>'A little. I have been in trouble, like you, and have lost my mother,' +replied Milly, simply; but she was not prepared for the suddenness with +which the girl threw her arms round her neck and kissed her.</p> + +<p>'I might have thought—your black dress and pale face,' she murmured +remorsefully. 'Every one is sad, every one is in trouble—myself, my +guardian, and you.'</p> + +<p>'But you are the youngest—it falls heaviest on you.'</p> + +<p>'What am I to call you? I don't like Miss Lambert, it sounds stiff,' +with a little shrug and movement of the hands, rather graceful than +otherwise.</p> + +<p>'I shall be Aunt Milly to the others, why not to you?' returned Mildred, +smiling.</p> + +<p>'Ah, that sounds nice. Papa had a sister, only she died; I used to call +her Aunt Amy. Aunt Milly! ah, I can say that easily; it makes me feel at +home, somehow. Am I to come home with you to-day, Aunt Milly?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, my dear.' Milly absolutely blushed with pleasure at hearing +herself so addressed. 'I am not going to my new home for three weeks, +but I shall be glad of your company, if you will come and help me.'</p> + +<p>'Poor Mr. Fabian will be sorry, but he is expecting to lose me. There is +one thing more I must ask, Aunt Milly.'</p> + +<p>'A dozen if you will, dear.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, but this is a great thing. Oh, please, dear Aunt Milly, may I bring +Rag and Tatters?' And as Mildred looked too astonished for reply, she +continued, hurriedly: 'Tatters never left papa for an instant, he was +licking his hand when he died; and Rag is such a dear old thing. I could +not be happy anywhere without my pets.' And without waiting for an +answer she left the room; and the next instant the light, springy tread +was heard in company with a joyous scuffling and barking; then a large +shaggy terrier burst into the room, and Polly followed with a great +tortoise-shell cat in her arms.</p> + +<p>'Isn't Rag handsome, except for this?' touching the animal where a scrap +of fur had been rudely mauled off, and presented a bald appearance; 'he +has lost the sight of one eye too. Veteran Rag, we used to call him. He +is so fond of me, and follows me like a dog; he used to go out with me +in Dresden, only the dogs hunted him.'</p> + +<p>'You may bring your pets, Polly,' was Mildred's indulgent answer; 'I +think I can answer for my brother's goodwill.'</p> + +<p>Dr. Heriot shook his head at her laughingly.</p> + +<p>'I am afraid you are no rigid disciplinarian, Miss Lambert; but it is +"Love me, love my dog" with Polly, I expect. Now, my child, you must get +ready for the flitting, while I go in search of Mr. Fabian. From the +cloud of tobacco-smoke that met us on entering, I fancy he is on the +next story.'</p> + +<p>'He is with the Rogers, I expect. His model disappointed him, and he is +not working to-day. If you will wait a moment, I will fetch him.'</p> + +<p>'What an original character!' observed Dr. Heriot as the door closed.</p> + +<p>'A loveable one,' was Mildred's rejoinder. She was interested and roused +by the new phase of life presented to her to-day. She looked on amused, +yet touched, when Polly returned, leading by the hand her +pseudo-guardian—a tall old man, with fiery eyes and scanty gray hair +falling down his neck, in a patched dressing-gown that had once been a +gorgeous Turkey-red. It was the first time that the simple woman had +gazed on genius down-at-heel, and faring on the dry crust of unrequited +self-respect.</p> + +<p>'There is my Cain, sir; a new conception—unfinished, if you will—but +you may trace the idea I am feebly striving to carry out. Sometimes I +fancy it will be my last bit of work. Look at that dimly-traced figure +beside the murderer—that is his good angel, who is to accompany the +branded one in his life-long exile. I always believed in Cain's +repentance—see the remorse in his eyes. I caught that expression on a +Spanish sailor's face when he had stabbed his mate in a drunken brawl. I +saw my Cain then.'</p> + +<p>Needy genius could be garrulous, as Mildred found. The old man warmed at +Polly's open-eyed admiration and Mildred's softly-uttered praise; +appreciation was to him what meat and drink would be to more material +natures. He looked almost majestic as he stood before them, in his +ragged dressing-gown, descanting on the merits of his Tobit, that had +sold for an old song. 'A Neapolitan fisher-boy had sat for my angel; +every one paints angels with yellow hair and womanish faces, but I am +not one of those that must follow the beaten track—I formed my angel on +the loftiest ideal of Italian beauty, and got sneered at for my pains. +One ought to coin a new proverb nowadays, Dr. Heriot—Originality moves +contempt. People said the subject was not a taking one; Tobit was too +much like an old clothes man, or a veritable descendant of Moses and +Sons. There was no end to the quips and jeers; even our set had a notion +it would not do, and I sold it to a dealer at a sum that would hardly +cover a month's rent,' finished the old man, with a mixture of pathos +and dignity.</p> + +<p>'After all, public taste is a sort of lottery,' observed Dr. Heriot; +'true genius is not always requited in this world, if it offends the +tender prejudices of preconceived ideas.'</p> + +<p>'The worship of the golden image fills up too large a space in the +market-place,' replied Mr. Fabian, solemnly, 'while the blare of +instruments covers the fetish-adoration of its votaries. The world is an +eating and drinking and money-getting world, and art, cramped and +stifled, goes to the wall.'</p> + +<p>'Nay, nay; I have not so bad an opinion of my generation as all that,' +interposed Dr. Heriot, smiling. 'I have great faith in the underlying +goodness of mankind. One has to break through a very stiff outer-crust, +I grant you; but there are soft places to be found in most natures.' +And, as the other shook his head—'Want of success has made you a little +down-hearted on the subject of our human charities, Mr. Fabian; but +there is plenty of reverence and art-worship in the world still. I +predict a turn of the wheel in your case yet. Cain may still glower down +on us from the walls of the Royal Academy.'</p> + +<p>'I hope so, before the hand has lost its cunning. But I am too +egotistical. And so you are going to take Polly from me—from Dad +Fabian, ay?'—looking at the young girl fondly.</p> + +<p>'Indeed, Mr. Fabian, I must thank you for your goodness to my ward. Poor +child! she would have fared badly without it. Polly, you must ask Miss +Lambert to bring you to see this kind friend again.'</p> + +<p>'Nay, nay; this is a poor place for ladies to visit,' replied the other, +hastily, as he brushed away the fragment of a piece of snuff with a +trembling hand; but he looked gratified, notwithstanding. 'Polly has +been a good girl—a very good girl—and weathered gallantly through a +very ticklish illness, though some of us thought she would never reach +England alive.'</p> + +<p>'Were you so ill, Polly?' inquired her guardian anxiously.</p> + +<p>'Dad Fabian says so; and he ought to know, for he and Mrs. Rogers nursed +me. Oh, he was so good to me,' continued Polly, clinging to him. 'He +used to sit up with me part of the night and tell me stories when I got +better, and go without his dinner sometimes to buy me fruit. Mrs. Rogers +was good-natured, too; but she was noisy. I like Dad Fabian's nursing +best.'</p> + +<p>'You see she fretted for her father,' interposed the artist. 'Polly's +one of the right sort—never gives way while there is work to be done; +and so the strain broke her down. She has lost most of her pretty hair. +Ellison used to be so proud of her curls; but it suits her, somehow. But +you must not keep your new friends waiting, my child. There, God bless +you! We shall be seeing you back again here one of these days, I dare +say.'</p> + +<p>Mildred felt as though her new life had begun from the moment the young +stranger crossed her threshold. Polly bade her guardian good-bye the +next day with unfeigned regret. 'I shall always feel I belong to him, +though he cannot have me to live with him,' she said, as she followed +Mildred into the house. 'Papa told me to love him, and I will. He is +different, somehow, from what I expected,' she continued. 'I thought he +would be gray-haired, like papa. He looks younger, and is not tall. Papa +was such a grand-looking man, and so handsome; but he has kind eyes—has +he not, Aunt Milly?—and speaks so gently.'</p> + +<p>Mildred was quite ready to pronounce an eulogium on Dr. Heriot. She had +already formed a high estimate of her brother's friend; his ready +courtesy and highly-bred manners had given her a pleasing impression, +while his gentleness to his ward, and a certain lofty tone of mind in +his conversation, proved him a man of good heart and of undoubted +ability. There was a latent humour at times discernible, and a certain +caustic wit, which, tinged as it was with melancholy, was highly +attractive. She felt that a man who had contrived to satisfy Betha's +somewhat fastidious taste could not fail to be above the ordinary +standard, and, though she did not quite echo Polly's enthusiasm, she was +able to respond sympathetically to the girl's louder praise.</p> + +<p>Before many days were over Polly had transferred a large portion of +loving allegiance to Mildred herself. Women—that is, ladies—had not +been very plentiful in her small circle. One or two of the artists' +wives had been kind to her; but Polly, who was an aristocrat by nature, +had rather rebelled against their want of refinement, and discovered +flaws which showed that, young as she was, she had plenty of +discernment.</p> + +<p>'Mrs. Rogers was noisy, and showed all her teeth when she laughed, and +tramped as she walked—in this way;' and Polly brought a very slender +foot to prove the argument. And Mrs. Hornby? Oh, she did not care for +Mrs. Hornby much—'she thought of nothing but smart dresses, and dining +at the restaurant, and she used such funny words—that men use, you +know. Papa never cared for me to be with her much; but he liked Mrs. +Rogers, though she fidgeted him dreadfully.'</p> + +<p>Mildred listened, amused and interested, to the girl's prattle. The +young creature on the stool at her feet was conversant with a life of +which she knew nothing, except from books. Polly would chatter for hours +together of picture-galleries and museums, and little feasts set out in +illuminated gardens, and of great lonely churches with swinging lamps, +and little tawdry shrines. Monks and nuns came familiarly into her +reminiscences. She had had <i>gateau</i> and cherries in a convent-garden +once, and had swung among apple-blossoms in an orchard belonging to one.</p> + +<p>'I used to think I should like to be a nun once,' prattled Polly, 'and +wear a great white flapping cap, as they did in Belgium. Sœur Marie +used to be so kind. I shall never forget that long, straight lime-walk, +where the girls used to take their recreation, or sit under the +cherry-trees with their lace-work, while Sœur Marie read the lives of +the saints. Do you like reading the lives of the saints, Aunt Milly? I +don't. They are glorious, of course; but it pains me to know how +uncomfortable they made themselves.'</p> + +<p>'I do not think I have ever read any, Polly.'</p> + +<p>'Have you not?'—with a surprised arching of the brows. 'Sœur Marie +thought them the finest books in the world. She used to tell me stories +of many of them; and her face would flush and her eyes grow so bright, I +used to think she was a saint herself.'</p> + +<p>Mildred rarely interrupted the girl's narratives; but little bits +haunted her now and then, and lingered in her memory with tender +persistence. What sober prose her life seemed in contrast to that of +this fourteen-years' old girl! How bare and empty seemed her niche +compared to Polly's series of pictures! How clearly Mildred could see it +all! The wandering artist-life, in search of the beautiful, poverty +oppressing the mind less sadly when refreshed by novel scenes of +interest; the grave, taciturn Philip Ellison, banishing himself and his +pride in a self-chosen exile, and training his motherless child to the +same exclusiveness.</p> + +<p>The few humble friends, grouped under the same roof, and sharing the +same obscurity; stretching out the right hand of fellowship, which was +grasped, not cordially, but with a certain protest, the little room +which Polly described so graphically being a less favourite resort than +the one where Dad Fabian was painting his Tobit.</p> + +<p>'It was only after papa got so ill that Mrs. Rogers would bring up her +work and sit with us. Papa did not like it much; but he was so heavy +that I could not lift him alone, and, noisy as she was, she knew how to +cheer him up. Dad suited papa best: they used to talk so beautifully +together. You have no idea how Dad can talk, and how clever he is. Papa +used to say he was one of nature's gentlemen. His father was only a +working man, you know;' and Polly drew herself up with a gesture Mildred +had noticed before, and which was to draw upon her later the +<i>soubriquet</i> of 'the princess.'</p> + +<p>'I think none the less of him for that,' returned Mildred, with gentle +reproof.</p> + +<p>'You are not like papa then,' observed Polly, with one of her pretty +gestures of dissent. 'It fretted him so being with people not nice in +their ways. The others would call him milord, and laugh at his grand +manners; but all the same they were afraid of him; every one feared him +but I; and I only loved him,' finished Polly, with one of her girlish +outbursts of emotion, which could only be soothed by extra petting on +Mildred's part.</p> + +<p>Mildred's soft heart was full of compassion for the lonely girl. Polly, +who cried herself to sleep every night for the longing for her lost +father, often woke to find Mildred sitting beside her bed watching her.</p> + +<p>'You were sleeping so restlessly, I thought I would look in on you,' was +all she said; but her motherly kiss spoke volumes.</p> + +<p>'How good you are to me, Aunt Milly,' Polly would say to her sometimes. +'I am getting to love you more every day; and then your voice is so +soft, and you have such nice ways. I think I shall be happy living with +you, and seeing my guardian every day; but we don't want Olive and +Chrissy, do we?'—for Mildred had described the vicarage and its +inhabitants—'It will feel as though we were in a beehive after this +quiet little nest,' as she observed once. Mildred smiled, as she always +did over Polly's quaint speeches, which were ripe at times with an +old-fashioned wisdom, gathered from the stored garner of age. She would +ponder over them sometimes in her slow way, when the girl was sleeping +her wet-eyed sleep.</p> + +<p>Would it come to her to regret the quietness of life which she was +laying by for ever as a garment that had galled and fretted her?—that +life she had inwardly compared to a dead mill-stream, flecked only by +the shadow and sunlight of perpetually recurring days? Would there come +a time when the burden and heat of the day would oppress her?—when the +load of existence would be too heavy to bear, and even this retrospect +of faint gray distances would seem fair by contrast?</p> + +<p>Women who lead contemplative and sedentary lives are overmuch given to +this sort of morbid self-questioning. They are for ever examining the +spiritual mechanism of their own natures, with the same result as though +one took up a feeble and growing plant by the root to judge of its +progress. They spend labour for that which is not bread. By and by, out +of the vigour of her busy life, Mildred learnt the wholesome sweetness +of a motto she ever afterwards cherished as her favourite: <i>Laborare est +orare</i>. Polly's questions, direct or indirect, sometimes ruffled the +elder woman's tranquillity, however gently she might put them by. 'Were +you ever a girl, Aunt Milly?—a girl like me, I mean?' And as Mildred +bit her lip and coloured slightly at a question that would have galled +any woman of eight-and-twenty, she continued, caressingly, 'You are so +nice; only just a trifle too solemn. I think, after all, I would rather +be Polly than you. You seem to have had no pictures in your life.'</p> + +<p>'My dear child, what do you mean?' returned Mildred; but she spoke with +a little effort.</p> + +<p>'I mean, you don't seem to have lived out pretty little bits, as I have. +You have walked every day over that common and down those long white +sunny roads, where there is nothing to imagine, unless one stares up at +the clouds—just clouds and dust and wheel-ruts. You have never gone +through a forest by moonlight, as I have, and stopped at a little +rickety inn, with a dozen <i>Jäger</i> drinking <i>lager-bier</i> under the +linden-trees, and the peasants dancing in their <i>sabots</i> on a strip of +lawn. You have never——' continued Polly breathlessly; but Mildred +interrupted her.</p> + +<p>'Stop, Polly; I love your reminiscences; but I want to ask you a +question. Is that all you saw in our walk to-day—clouds and dust and +wheel-ruts?'</p> + +<p>'I saw a hand-organ and a lazy monkey, and a brass band, driving me +frantic. It made me feel—oh, I can't tell you how I felt,' returned +Polly, with a grimace, and putting up her hands to her delicate little +ears.</p> + +<p>'The music was bad, certainly; but I found plenty to admire in our +walk.'</p> + +<p>Polly opened her eyes. 'You are not serious, Aunt Milly.'</p> + +<p>'Let me see: we went across the common, and then on. My pictures are +very humble ones, Polly; but I framed at least half-a-dozen for my +evening's refreshment.'</p> + +<p>Polly drew herself up a little scornfully. 'I don't admire monkeys, Aunt +Milly.'</p> + +<p>'What sort of eyes have you, child?' replied Mildred, who had recovered +her cheerfulness. 'Do you mean that you did not see that old blind man +with the white beard, and, evidently, his little grand-daughter, at his +knees, just before we crossed the common?'</p> + +<p>'Yes; I noticed she was a pretty child,' returned Polly, with reluctant +candour.</p> + +<p>'She and her blue hood and tippet, and the great yellow mongrel dog at +her feet, made a pretty little sketch, all by themselves; and then, when +we went on a little farther, there was the old gipsy-woman, with a +handsome young ne'er-do-weel of a boy. Let me tell you, Polly, Mr. +Fabian would have made something of his brown skin and rags. Oh, what +rags!'</p> + +<p>'She was a horrid old woman,' put in Polly, rather crossly.</p> + +<p>'Granted; but, with a clump of fir-trees behind her, and a bit of +sunset-clouds, she made up a striking picture. After that we came on a +flock of sheep. One of them had got caught in a furze-bush, and was +bleating terribly. We stood looking at it for full a minute before the +navvy kindly rescued it.'</p> + +<p>'I was sorry for the poor animal, of course. But, Aunt Milly, I don't +call that much of a picture.'</p> + +<p>'Nevertheless, it reminded me of the one that hangs in my room. To my +thinking it was highly suggestive; all the more, that it was an old +sheep, and had such a foolish, confiding face. We are never too old to +go astray,' continued Mildred, dreamily.</p> + +<p>'Three pictures, at least we have finished now,' asked Polly, +impatiently.</p> + +<p>'Finished! I could multiply that number threefold! Why, there was the +hay-stack, with the young heifers round it; and that red-tiled cottage, +with the pigeons tumbling and wheeling round the roof, and the +flower-girl asleep on my own doorstep, with the laburnum shedding its +yellow petals on her lap, to the great delight of the poor sickly baby. +Come, Polly; who made the most of their eyes this evening? Only clouds, +dust, and wheel-ruts, eh?'</p> + +<p>'You are too wise for me, Aunt Milly. Who would have thought you could +have seen all that? Dad Fabian ought to have heard you talk! We must go +out to-morrow evening, and you shall show me some more pictures. But +doesn't it strike you, Aunt Milly'—leaning her dimpled chin on her +hand—'that you have made the most of very poor material? After +all'—triumphantly—'there is not much in your pictures!'</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h3>VIĀ TEBAY</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">'All the land in flowing squares.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath a broad and equal blowing wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Smelt of the coming summer, as one large cloud<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drew downward; but all else of heaven was pure<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up to the sun, and May from verge to verge,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And May with me from head to heel.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">To left and right<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cuckoo told his name to all the hills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mellow ouzel fluted in the elm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The redcap whistled, and the nightingale<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sung loud, as though he were the bird of day.'—<span class="smcap">Tennyson.</span><br /></span> +</div></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>'Aunt Milly, I can breathe now. Oh, how beautiful!' and Polly clapped +her hands with girlish glee, as the train slowly steamed into Tebay +Junction, the gray old station lying snugly among the green Westmorland +hills.</p> + +<p>'Oh, my dear, hush! who is that tall youth taking off his hat to us? not +Roy, surely, it must be Richard. Think of not knowing my own nephews!' +and Mildred looked distressed and puzzled.</p> + +<p>'Now, Aunt Milly, don't put yourself out; if this stupid door would only +open, I would get out and ask him myself. Oh, thank you,' as the youth +in question hurried forward to perform that necessary service, looking +at her, at the same time, rather curiously. 'If you please, Aunt Milly +wants to know if you are Roy or Richard.'</p> + +<p>'Roy,' was the prompt answer. 'What, are you Polly, and is that Aunt +Milly behind you? For shame, Aunt Milly, not to know me when I took my +hat off to you at least three minutes ago;' but Roy had the grace to +blush a little over this audacious statement as he helped Mildred out, +and returned her warm grasp of the hand.</p> + +<p>'My dear boy, how could you have known us, and Polly, a perfect +stranger, too?'</p> + +<p>Roy burst into a ringing laugh.</p> + +<p>'Why you see, Aunt Milly, one never loses by a little extra attention; +it always pays in the long run. I just took off my hat at random as the +train came in sight, and there, as it happened, was Polly's face glued +against the window. So I was right, and you were gratified!'</p> + +<p>'Now I am sure it is Roy.'</p> + +<p>'Roy, Rex, or Sauce Royal, as they called me at Sedbergh. Well, Miss +Polly,' with another curious look, 'we are <i>bonā fide</i> adopted cousins, +as Dr. John says, so we may as well shake hands.'</p> + +<p>'Humph,' was Polly's sole answer, as she gave her hand with the air of a +small duchess, over which Roy grimaced slightly; and then with a cordial +inflection of voice, as he turned to Mildred—</p> + +<p>'Welcome to Westmorland, Aunt Milly—both of you, I mean; and I hope you +will like us, as much as we shall like you.'</p> + +<p>'Thank you, my boy; and to think I mistook you for Richard! How tall you +have grown, Royal.'</p> + +<p>'Ah, I was a bit of a lad when you were down here last. I am afraid I +should not have recognised you, Aunt Milly, but for Polly. Well, what is +it? you look disturbed; there is a vision of lost boxes in your eyes; +there, I knew I was right; don't be afraid, we are known here, and +Barton will look after all your belongings.'</p> + +<p>'But how long are we to remain? Polly is tired, poor child, and so am +I.'</p> + +<p>'You should have come by York, as Richard told you; always follow +Richard's advice, and you will never do wrong, so he thinks; now you +have two hours to wait, and yourself to thank, and only my pleasing +conversation to while away the time.'</p> + +<p>'You hard-hearted boy; can't you see Aunt Milly is ready to drop?' broke +in Polly, indignantly; 'how were we to know you lived so near the North +Pole? My guardian ought to have met us,' continued the little lady, with +dignity; 'he would have known what to have done for Aunt Milly.'</p> + +<p>Roy stared, and then burst into his ready, good-humoured laugh.</p> + +<p>'Whew! what a little termagant! Of course you are tired—women always +are; take my arm, Aunt Milly; lean on me; now we will go and have some +tea; let us know when the train starts, Barton, and look us out a +comfortable compartment;' and, so saying, Roy hurried his charges away; +Mildred's tired eyes resting admiringly on the long range of low, gray +buildings, picturesque, and strangely quiet, backed by the vivid green +of the great circling hills, which, to the eyes of southerners, invested +Tebay Junction with unusual interest.</p> + +<p>The refreshment-room was empty; there was a pleasant jingling of cups +and spoons behind the bar; in a twinkling the spotless white table-cloth +was covered with home-made bread, butter, and ham, and even Polly's brow +cleared like magic as she sipped her hot tea, and brought her healthy +girlish appetite to bear on the tempting Westmorland cakes.</p> + +<p>'There, Dr. John or Dick himself couldn't be a better squire of dames,' +observed Roy, complacently. 'Aunt Milly, when you have left off admiring +me, just close your eyes to your surroundings a little while—it will do +you no end of good.'</p> + +<p>Roy was rattling on almost boisterously, Mildred thought; but she was +right in attributing much of it to nervousness. Roy's light-heartedness +was assumed for the time; in reality, his sensitive nature was deeply +touched by this meeting with his aunt; his four-months'-old trouble was +still too recent to bear the least allusion. Betha's children were not +likely to forget her, and Roy, warmly as he welcomed his father's +sister, could not fail to remember whose place it was she would try so +inadequately to fill. Jokes never came amiss to Roy, and he had the +usual boyish dislike to show his feelings; but he was none the less sore +at heart, and the quick impatient sigh that was now and then jerked out +in the brief pauses of conversation spoke volumes to Mildred.</p> + +<p>'You are so like your mother,' she said, softly; but the boy's lip +quivered, and he turned so pale, that Mildred did not venture to say +more; she only looked at him with the sort of yearning pride that women +feel in those who are their own flesh and blood.</p> + +<p>'He is not a bit like Arnold, he is Betha's boy,' she thought to +herself; 'her "long laddie," as she used to call him. I dare say he is +weak and impulsive. Those sort of faces generally tell their own story +pretty correctly;' and the thought crossed her, that perhaps one of Dad +Fabian's womanish angels might have had the fair hair, long pale face, +and sleepy blue eyes, which were Roy's chief characteristics, and which +were striking enough in their way.</p> + +<p>Polly, who had soon got over her brief animosity, was now chattering to +him freely enough.</p> + +<p>'I think you will do, for a country boy,' she observed, patronisingly; +'people who live among the mountains are generally free and easy, and +not as polished as those who live in cities,' continued Polly, uttering +this sententious plagiarism as innocently as though it were the product +of her own wisdom.</p> + +<p>'Such kind of borrowing as this, if it be not bettered by the borrower, +among good authors, is accounted plagiary; see Milton,' said the boy, +fresh from Sedbergh, with a portentous frown, assumed for the occasion. +'Name your reference. I repel such vile insinuations, Miss Polly, as I +am a Westmorland boy.'</p> + +<p>'I learnt that in my dictation,' returned Polly, vexed, but too candid +for reticence; 'but Dad Fabian used to say the same thing; please don't +stroke Veteran Rag the wrong way, he does not like it.'</p> + +<p>'Poor old Veteran, he has won some scars, I see. I am afraid you are a +character, Polly. Rag and Tatters, and copybook wisdom, well-thumbed and +learnt, and then retailed as the original article. I wish Dr. John could +hear you; he would put you through your paces.'</p> + +<p>'Who is Dr. John?' asked Polly, coming down a little from her stilts, +and evidently relenting in favour of Roy's handsome face.</p> + +<p>'Oh, Dr. John is Dr. John, unless you choose to do as the world does, +and call him Dr. Heriot; he is Dr. John to us; after all, what's in a +name?'</p> + +<p>'I like my guardian to be called Dr. Heriot best; the other sounds +disrespectful and silly.'</p> + +<p>'We did not know your opinion before, you see,' returned Roy, with a +slight drawl, and almost closing his eyes; 'if you could have +telegraphed your wish to us three or four years ago it might have been +different; but with the strict conservative feeling prevalent at the +vicarage, I am afraid Dr. John it will remain, unless,' meditating +deeply; 'but no, he might not like it.'</p> + +<p>'What?'</p> + +<p>'Well, we might make it Dr. Jack, you know.'</p> + +<p>'After all, boys are nothing but plagues,' returned Polly, scornfully.</p> + +<p>'"Playa, plagua, plague, <i>et cetera, et cetera</i>, that which smites or +wounds; any afflictive evil or calamity; a great trial or vexation; also +an acute malignant febrile disease, that often prevails in Egypt, Syria, +and Turkey, and that has at times prevailed in the large cities of +Europe, with frightful mortality; hence any pestilence." Have you +swallowed Webster's <i>Dictionary</i>, Polly?'</p> + +<p>'My dears, I hope you do not mean to quarrel already?'</p> + +<p>'We are only sounding the depths of each other's wisdom. Polly is +awfully shallow, Aunt Milly; the sort of person, you know, who utilises +all the scraps. Wait till she sits at the feet of Gamaliel—Dr. John, I +mean; he is the one for finding out "all is not gold that glitters."'</p> + +<p>Mildred smiled. 'Let them fight it out,' she thought; 'no one can resist +long the charm of Polly's perfect honesty, and her pride is a little too +thin-skinned for daily comfort; good-natured raillery will be a +wholesome tonic. What a clever boy he is! only seventeen, too,' and she +shook her head indulgently at Roy.</p> + +<p>'Kirkby Stephen train starts, sir; all the luggage in; this way for the +ladies.'</p> + +<p>'Quick-march; down with you, Tatters; lie there, good dog. Don't let the +grass grow under your feet, Aunt Milly; there's a providential escape +for two tired and dusty Londoners. Next compartment, Andrews,' as the +red-coated guard bore down on their carriage. 'There, Aunt Milly,' with +an exquisite consideration that would have become Dr. John himself, 'I +have deferred an introduction to the squire himself.'</p> + +<p>'My dear Roy, how thoughtful of you. I am in no mood for introductions, +certainly,' returned Mildred, gratefully.</p> + +<p>'Women never are unless they have on their best bonnets; and, to tell +you the truth,' continued the incorrigible Roy, 'Mr. Trelawny is the +sort of man for whom one always furbishes up one's company manners. As +Dr. John says, there is nothing slip-shod, or in <i>deshabille</i>, in him. +Everything about him is so terribly perfect.'</p> + +<p>'Roy, Roy, what a quiz you are!'</p> + +<p>'Hush, there they come; the Lady of the Towers herself, Ethel the +Magnificent; the weaver of yards of flimsy verse, patched with rags and +shreds of wisdom, after Polly's fashion. Did you catch a glimpse of our +notabilities, Aunt Milly?'</p> + +<p>Mildred answered yes; she had caught a glimpse over Roy's shoulder of a +tall, thin, aristocratic-looking man; but the long sweep of silk drapery +and the outline of a pale face were all that she could see of the lady +with him.</p> + +<p>She began to wish that Roy would be a little less garrulous as the train +moved out of Tebay station, and bore them swiftly to their destination; +she was nerving herself for the meeting with her brother, and the sight +of the vicarage without the presence of its dearly-loved mistress, while +the view began to open so enchantingly before them on either side, that +she would willingly have enjoyed it in silence. But Polly was less +reticent, and her enthusiasm pleased Roy.</p> + +<p>'You see we are in the valley of the Lune,' he explained, his +grandiloquence giving place to boyish earnestness. 'Ours is one of the +loveliest spots in the whole district. Now we are at the bottom of +Ravenstone-dale, out of which it used to be said that the people would +never allow a good cow to go, or a rich heiress to be taken; and then we +shall come to Smardale Gill. Is it not pretty, with its clear little +stream running at the bottom, and its sides covered with brushwood? Now +we are in my father's parish,' exclaimed Roy, eagerly, as the train +swept over the viaduct. 'And now look out for Smardale Hall on the +right; once the residents were grand enough to have a portion of the +church to themselves, and it is still called Smardale Chapel; the whole +is now occupied by a farmhouse. Ah, now we are near the station. Do you +see that castellated building? that is Kirkleatham House, the Trelawnys' +place. Now look out for Dick, Aunt Milly. There he is! I thought so, he +has spotted the Lady of the Towers.'</p> + +<p>'My dear, is that Richard?' as a short and rather square-shouldered +young man, but decidedly good-looking, doffed his straw hat in answer to +some unseen greeting, and then peered inquiringly into their +compartment.</p> + +<p>'Ah, there you are, Rex. Have you brought them? How do you do, Aunt +Milly? Is that young lady with you Miss Ellison?' and he shook hands +rather formally, and without looking at Polly. 'I hope you did not find +your long stay at Tebay very wearisome. Did you give them some tea, Rex? +That's right. Please come with me, Aunt Milly; our waggonette is waiting +at the top of the steps.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, Richard, I wish you were not all such strangers to me!' Mildred +could not have helped that involuntary exclamation which came out of the +fulness of her heart. Her elder nephew was walking gravely by her side, +with slow even strides; he looked up a little surprised.</p> + +<p>'I suppose we must be that. After seven years' absence you will find us +all greatly changed of course. I remember you perfectly, but then I was +fourteen when you paid your last visit.'</p> + +<p>'You remember me? I hardly expected to hear you say that,' and Mildred +felt a glow of pleasure which all Roy's friendliness had not called +forth.</p> + +<p>'You are looking older—and as Dr. Heriot told us, somewhat ill; but it +is the same face of course. My father will be glad to welcome you, Aunt +Milly.'</p> + +<p>'And you?'</p> + +<p>His dark face flushed, and he looked a little discomfited. Mildred felt +sorry she had asked the question, it would offend his reticence.</p> + +<p>'It is early days for any of us to be glad about anything,' he returned +with effort. 'I think for my father's and the girls' sake, your coming +could not be too soon; you will not complain of our lack of welcome I +hope, though some of us may be a little backward in acting up to it.'</p> + +<p>'He is speaking of himself,' thought Mildred, and she answered the +unspoken thought very tenderly. 'You need not fear my misunderstanding +you, Richard; if you will let me be your friend as well as the others', +I shall be glad: but no one can fill her place.'</p> + +<p>He started, and drew his straw hat nervously over his brow. 'Thank you, +Aunt Milly,' was all he said, as he placed her in the waggonette, and +took the driver's seat on the box.</p> + +<p>'There are changes even here, Aunt Milly,' observed Roy, who had seated +himself opposite to her for the purpose of making pertinent observations +on the various landmarks they passed, and he pointed to the long row of +modern stuccoed and decidedly third-class villas springing tip near the +station. 'The new line brings this. We are in the suburbs of Kirkby +Stephen, and I dare say you hardly know where you are;' a fact which +Mildred could not deny, though recognition dawned on her senses, as the +low stone houses and whitewashed cottages came in sight; and then the +wide street paved with small blue cobbles out of the river, and small +old-fashioned shops, and a few gray bay-windowed houses bearing the +stamp of age, and well-worn respectability. Ah, there was the +market-place, with the children playing as usual round the old pump, and +the group of loiterers sunning themselves outside the Red Lion. Through +the grating and low archway of the empty butter-market Mildred could see +the grass-grown paths and gleaming tombstones and the gray tower of the +grand old church itself. The approach to the vicarage was singularly +ill-adapted to any but pedestrians. It required a steady hand and eye to +guide a pair of spirited horses round the sharp angles of the narrow +winding alley, but the little country-bred browns knew their work. The +vicarage gates were wide open, and two black figures were shading their +eyes in the porch. But Richard, instead of driving in at the gate, +reined in his horses so suddenly that he nearly brought them on their +haunches, and leaning backward over the box, pointed with his whip +across the road.</p> + +<p>'There is my father taking his usual evening stroll—never mind the +girls, Aunt Milly. I dare say you would rather meet him alone.'</p> + +<p>Mildred stood up and steadied herself by laying a hand on Richard's +shoulder. The sun was setting, and the gray old church stood out in fine +relief in the warm evening light, blue breadths of sky behind it, and +shifting golden lines of sunny clouds in the distance; while down the +quiet paths, bareheaded and with hands folded behind his back, was a +tall stooping figure, with scanty gray hair falling low on his neck, +walking to and fro, with measured, uneven tread.</p> + +<p>The hand on Richard's shoulder shook visibly; Mildred was trembling all +over.</p> + +<p>'Arnold! Oh, how old he looks! How thin and bowed! Oh, my poor brother.'</p> + +<p>'You must make allowance for the shock he has had—that we have all +had,' returned Richard in a soothing tone. 'He always walks like this, +and at the same time. Go to him, Aunt Milly, it does him good to be +roused.'</p> + +<p>Mildred obeyed, though her limbs moved stiffly; the little gate swung +behind her; a tame goat browsing among the tombs bleated and strained at +its tether as she passed; but the figure she followed still continued +its slow, monotonous walk.</p> + +<p>Mildred shrunk back for a moment into the deep church porch to pause and +recover herself. At the end of the path there were steps and an unused +gate leading to the market; he must turn then.</p> + +<p>How quiet and peaceful it all looked! The dark range of school buildings +buried in shadow, the sombre line of houses closing in two sides of the +churchyard. Behind the vicarage the purple-rimmed hills just fading into +indistinctness. Up and down the stone alley some children were playing, +one wee toddling mite was peeping through the railings at Mildred. The +goat still bleated in the distance; a large blue-black terrier swept in +hot pursuit of his master.</p> + +<p>'Ah, Pupsie, have you found me? The evenings are chilly still; so, so, +old dog, we will go in.'</p> + +<p>Mildred waited for a moment and then glided out from the porch—he +turned, saw her, and held out his arms without a word.</p> + +<p>Mr. Lambert was the first to recover himself; for Mildred's tears, +always long in coming, were now falling like rain.</p> + +<p>'A sad welcome, my dear; but there, she would not have us grieving like +this.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, Arnold, how you have suffered! I never realised how much, till +Richard stopped the horses, and then I saw you walking alone in the +churchyard. The dews are falling, and you are bareheaded. You should +take better care of yourself, for the children's sake.'</p> + +<p>'Ay, ay; just what she said; but it has grown into a sort of habit with +me. Cardie comes and fetches me in, night after night; the lad is a good +lad; his mother was right after all.'</p> + +<p>'Dear Betha; but you have not laid her here, Arnold?'</p> + +<p>He shook his head.</p> + +<p>'I could not, Mildred, though she wished it as much as I did. She often +said she would like to lie within sight of the home where she had been +so happy, and under the shadow of the church porch. She liked the +thought of her children's feet passing so near her on their way to +church, but I had no power to carry out her wish.'</p> + +<p>'You mean the churchyard is closed?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, owing to the increase of population, the influx of railway +labourers, and the union workhouse, deaths in the parish became so +numerous that there was danger of overcrowding. She lies in the +cemetery.'</p> + +<p>'Ah! I remember.'</p> + +<p>'I do not think her funeral will ever be forgotten; people came for +miles round to pay their last homage to my darling. One old woman over +eighty came all the way from Castlesteads to see her last of "the +gradely leddy," as she called her. You should have seen it, to know how +she was loved.'</p> + +<p>'She made you very happy while she lived, Arnold!'</p> + +<p>'Too happy!—look at me now. I have the children, of course, poor +things; but in losing her, I feel I have lost the best of everything, +and must walk for ever in the shadow.'</p> + +<p>He spoke in the vague musing tone that had grown on him of late, and +which was new to Mildred—the worn, set features and gray hair +contrasted strangely with the vivid brightness of his eyes, at once keen +and youthful; he had been a man in the prime of life, vigorous and +strong, when Mildred had seen him last; but a long illness and deadly +sorrow had wasted his energy, and bowed his upright figure, as though +the weight were physical as well as mental.</p> + +<p>'But this is a poor welcome, Milly; and you must be tired and starved +after your day's journey. You are not looking robust either, my +dear—not a trace of the old blooming Milly' (touching her thin cheek +sorrowfully). 'Well, well, the children must take care of you, and we'll +get Dr. Heriot to prescribe. Has the child come with you after all?'</p> + +<p>Mildred signified assent.</p> + +<p>'I am glad of it. Thank you heartily for your ready help, Milly; we +would do anything for Heriot; the boys treat him as a sort of elder +brother, and the girls are fond of him, though they lead him a life +sometimes. He is very grateful to you, and says you have lifted a +mountain off him. Is the girl a nice girl, eh?'</p> + +<p>'I must leave you to judge of that. She has interested me, at any rate; +she is thoroughly loveable.'</p> + +<p>'She will shake down among the others, and become one of us, I hope. Ah! +well, that will be your department, Mildred.</p> + +<p>I am not much to be depended on for anything but parish matters. When a +man loses hope and energy it is all up with him.'</p> + +<p>The little gate swung after them as he spoke; the flower-bordered +courtyard before the vicarage seemed half full of moving figures as they +crossed the road; and in another moment Mildred was greeting her nieces, +and introducing Polly to her brother.</p> + +<p>'I cannot be expected to remember you both,' she said, as Olive timidly, +and Christine rather coldly, returned her kiss. 'You were such little +girls when I last saw you.'</p> + +<p>But with Mildred's tone of benevolence there mingled a little dismay. +Betha's girls were decidedly odd.</p> + +<p>Olive, who was a year older than Polly, and who was quite a head taller, +had just gained the thin ungainly age, when to the eyes of anxious +guardians the extremities appear in the light of afflictive +dispensations; and premature old age is symbolised by the rounded and +stooping shoulders, and sunken chest; the age of trodden-down heels and +ragged finger-ends, when the glory of the woman, as St. Paul calls it, +instead of being coiled into smooth knots, or swept round in faultless +plaits, of coroneted beauty, presents a vista of frayed ends and +multitudinous hair-pins. Olive's loosely-dropping hair and dark cloudy +face gave Mildred a shock; the girl was plain too, though the irregular +features beamed at times with a look of intelligence. Christine, who was +two years younger, and much better-looking, in spite of a rough, +yellowish mane, had an odd, original face, a pert nose, argumentative +chin, and restless dark eyes, which already looked critically at persons +and things. 'Contradiction Chriss,' as the boys called her, was +certainly a character in her way.</p> + +<p>'Are you tired, aunt? Will you come in?' asked Olive, in a low voice, +turning a dull sort of red as she spoke. 'Cardie thinks you are, and +supper is ready, and——'</p> + +<p>'I am very tired, dear, and so is Polly,' answered Mildred, cheerfully, +as she followed Olive across the dimly-lighted hall, with its +old-fashioned fireplace and settles; its tables piled up with coats and +hats, which had found their way to the harmonium too.</p> + +<p>They went up the low, broad staircase Mildred remembered so well, with +its carved balustrades and pretty red and white drugget, and the great +blue China jars in the window recesses.</p> + +<p>The study door stood open, and Mildred had a glimpse of the high-backed +chair, and table littered over with papers, before she began ascending +again, and came out into the low-ceiled passage, with deep-set lattice +windows looking on the court and churchyard.</p> + +<p>'Chrissy and I sleep here,' explained Olive, panting slightly from +nervousness, as Mildred looked inquiringly at her. 'We thought—at least +Cardie thought—this little room next to us would do for Miss Ellison.'</p> + +<p>Polly peeped in delightedly. It was small, but cosy, with a +curiously-shaped bedstead—the head having a resemblance to a Latin +cross, with three pegs covered with white dimity. The room was neatly +arranged—a decided contrast to the one they had just passed; and there +was even an effort at decoration, for the black bars of the grate were +entwined with sprays of honesty—the shining, pearly leaves grouped also +in a tall red jar, on the mantelpiece.</p> + +<p>'That is a pretty idea. Was it yours, Olive?'</p> + +<p>Olive nodded. 'Father thought you would like your old room, aunt—the +one he and mother always called yours.'</p> + +<p>The tears came again in Mildred's eyes. Somehow it seemed but yesterday +since Betha welcomed her so warmly, and showed her the room she was +always to call hers. There was the tiny dressing-room, with its distant +view, and the quaint old-fashioned room, with an oaken beam running +across the low ceiling, and its wide bay-window.</p> + +<p>There was the same heartsease paper that Mildred remembered seven years +ago, the same flowery chintz, the curious old quilt, a hundred years +old, covered with twining carnations. The very fringe that edged the +beam spoke to her of a brother's thoughtfulness, while the same hand had +designed the motto which from henceforth was to be Mildred's +own—'<i>Laborare est orare</i>.'</p> + +<p>'The lines are fallen to me in pleasant places,' whispered Mildred as +she drew near the window, and stood there spell-bound by the scene, +which, though well-remembered, seemed to come before her with new +beauty.</p> + +<p>Underneath her lay the vicarage garden, with its terrace walk and small, +trim lawn; and down below, half hidden by a steep wooded bank, flowed +the Eden, its pebbly beach lying dry under the low garden wall, but +farther on plashing with silvery gleams through the thick foliage.</p> + +<p>To the right was the footbridge leading to the meadows, and beyond that +the water-mill and the weir; and as far as eye could reach, green +uplands and sweeps of pasturage, belted here and there with trees, and +closing in the distance soft ranges of fells, ridge beyond ridge, fading +now into gray indistinctness, but glorious to look upon when the sun +shone down upon their 'paradise of purple and the golden slopes atween +them,' or the storm clouds, lowering over them, tinged them with darker +violet.</p> + +<p>'A place to live in and die in,' thought Mildred, solemnly, as the last +thing that night she stood looking out into the moonlight.</p> + +<p>The hills were invisible now, but gleams of watery brightness shone +between the trees, and the garden lay flooded in the silver light. A +light wind stirred the foliage with a soft soughing movement, and some +animal straying to the river to drink trod crisply on the dry pebbles.</p> + +<p>'A place where one should think good thoughts and live out one's best +life,' continued Mildred, dreamily. A sigh, almost a groan, from beneath +her open window seemed to answer her unspoken thought; and then a dark +figure moved quietly away. It was Richard!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h3>MILDRED'S NEW HOME</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Half drowned in sleepy peace it lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As satiate with the boundless play<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of sunshine on its green array.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And clear-cut hills of gloomy blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To keep it safe, rose up behind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As with a charmed ring to bind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The grassy sea, where clouds might find<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A place to bring their shadows to.'—<span class="smcap">Jean Ingelow.</span><br /></span> +</div></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>'Aunt Milly, I have wakened to find myself in Paradise,' were the first +words that greeted Mildred's drowsy senses the next morning; and she +opened her eyes to find the sun streaming in through the great +uncurtained window, and Polly in her white dressing-gown, curled up on +the low chair, gazing out in rapturous contemplation.</p> + +<p>'It must be very early,' observed Mildred, wearily. She was fatigued +with her journey and the long vigil she had kept the preceding night, +and felt a little discontented with the girl's birdlike activity.</p> + +<p>'One ought not to be tired in Paradise,' returned Polly, reprovingly. +'Do people have aches and pains and sore hearts here, I wonder—in the +valley of the Eden, as he called it—and yet Mr. Lambert looks sad +enough, and so does Richard. Do you like Richard, Aunt Milly?'</p> + +<p>'Very much,' returned Mildred, with signs of returning animation in her +voice.</p> + +<p>'Well, he is not bad—for an icicle,' was Polly's quaint retort; 'but I +like Roy best; he is tiresome, of course—all boys are—but oh, those +girls, Aunt Milly!'</p> + +<p>'Well, what of them?' asked Mildred, in an amused voice. 'I am sure you +could not judge of them last night, poor things; they were too shy.'</p> + +<p>'They were dreadful. Oh, Aunt Milly, don't let us talk of them!'</p> + +<p>'I am sure Olive is clever, Polly; her face is full of intelligence. +Christine is a mere child.'</p> + +<p>Polly shrugged her shoulders. She did not care to argue on such an +uninteresting question. The little lady's dainty taste was offended by +the somewhat uncouth appearance of the sisters. She changed the subject +deftly.</p> + +<p>'How the birds are singing! I think the starlings are building their +nests under the roof, they are flying in and out and chirping so busily. +How still it is on the fells! There is an old gray horse feeding by the +bridge, and some red and white cattle coming over the side of the hill. +This is better than your old Clapham pictures, Aunt Milly.'</p> + +<p>Mildred smiled; she thought so too.</p> + +<p>'Roy says the river is a good way below, and that it is rather a +dangerous place to climb. He thinks nothing of it—but then he is a boy! +How blue the hills are this morning! They look quite near. But Roy says +they are miles away. That long violet one is called the Nine Standards, +and over there are Hartley Fells. We were out on the terrace last night, +and he told me their names. Roy is very fond of talk, I think; but +Richard stood near us all the time, and never said a word, except to +scold Roy for chattering so much.'</p> + +<p>'Richard was afraid the sound of your voices would disturb my brother.'</p> + +<p>'That is the worst of it, as Roy says, Richard is always in the right. I +don't think Roy is unfeeling, but he forgets sometimes; he told me so +himself. We had quite a long talk when the others went in.'</p> + +<p>'You and he seem already very good friends.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, he is a tolerably nice boy,' returned Polly, condescendingly; 'and +we shall get on very well together, I dare say. Now I will leave you in +peace, Aunt Milly, to finish dressing; for I mean to make acquaintance +with that big green hill before breakfast.'</p> + +<p>Mildred was not sorry to be left in peace. It was still early. So, while +Polly wetted her feet in the grass, Mildred went softly downstairs to +refresh her eyes and memory with a quiet look at the old rooms in their +morning freshness.</p> + +<p>The door of her brother's study stood open, and she ventured in, almost +holding her breath, lest her step should reach his ear in the adjoining +room.</p> + +<p>There was the chair where he always sat, with his gray head against the +light, the one narrow old-fashioned window framing only a small portion +of the magnificent prospect. There were the overflowing waste-paper +baskets, as usual, brimming over their contents on the carpet—the table +a hopeless chaos of documents, pamphlets, and books of reference.</p> + +<p>There were some attempts at arrangement in the well-filled bookcases +that occupied two sides of the small room, but the old corner behind the +mother's chair and work-table still held the debris of the renowned +Tower of Babel, and a family tendency to draw out the lower books +without removing the upper ones had resulted in numerous overthrows, so +that even Mr. Lambert objected to add to the dusty confusion.</p> + +<p>Books and papers were everywhere; they littered even the couch—that +couch where Betha had lain for so many months, only tired, before they +discovered what ailed her—the couch where her husband had laid the +little light figure morning after morning, till she had grown too ill to +be moved even that short distance.</p> + +<p>Looking round, Mildred could understand the growing helplessness of the +man who had lost his right band and helpmeet; the answer and ready +sympathy that never failed him were wanting now; the comely, bright +presence had gone from his sight; the tones that had always vibrated so +sweetly in his ear were silent for ever. With his lonely broodings there +must ever mix a bitter regret, and the dull, perpetual anguish of a +yearning never to be satisfied. Earth is full of these desolations, +which come alike on the evil and the good—mysteries of suffering never +to be understood here, but which, to such natures as Arnold Lambert's, +are but as the Refiner's furnace, purging the dross of earthly passion +and centring them on things above.</p> + +<p>Instinctively Mildred comprehended this, as her eye fell on the open +pages of the Bible—the Bible that had been her husband's wedding gift +to Betha, and in which she had striven to read with failing eyes the +very day before her death.</p> + +<p>Mildred touched it reverently and turned away.</p> + +<p>She lingered for a moment in the dining-room, where a buxom North +countrywoman was laying the table for breakfast. Everything here was +unchanged.</p> + +<p>It was still the same homely, green, wainscotted room, with high, narrow +windows looking on to the terrace. There was the same low, old-fashioned +sideboard and silk-lined chiffonnier; the same leathern couch and +cumbrous easy-chair; the same picture of 'Virtue and Vice,' smiling and +glaring over the high wooden mantelpiece. Yes, the dear old room, as +Mildred had fondly termed it in her happy three months' visit, was +exactly the same; but Betha's drawing-room was metamorphosed into +fairyland.</p> + +<p>All Arnold's descriptions had not prepared her for the pleasant +surprise. Behind the double folding-doors lay a perfect picture-room, +its wide bay looking over the sunny hills, and a glass door opening on +the beck gravel of the courtyard.</p> + +<p>Outside, the long levels of green, with Cuyp-like touches of brown and +red cattle, grouped together on the shady bank, tender hints of water +gleaming through the trees, and the soft billowy ridges beyond; within, +the faint purple and golden tints of the antique jars and vases, and +shelves of rare porcelain, the rich hues of the china harmonising with +the high-backed ebony chairs and cabinet, and the high, +elaborately-finished mantelpiece, curiously inlaid with glass, and +fitted up with tiny articles of <i>vertu</i>; the soft, blue hangings and +Sčvres table and other dainty finishes giving a rich tone of colour to +the whole. Mr. Lambert was somewhat of a <i>dilettante</i>, and his accurate +taste had effected many improvements in the vicarage, as well as having +largely aided in the work nearest his heart—the restoration of his +church.</p> + +<p>The real frontage of the vicarage looked towards the garden terrace and +Hillsbottom, the broad meadow that stretched out towards Hartley Fells, +with Hartley Fold Farm and Hartley Castle in the distance; from its +upper window the Nine Standards and Mallerstang, and to the south +Wild-boar Fells, were plainly visible. But the usual mode of entrance +was at the back. The gravelled sweep of courtyard, with its narrow grass +bordering and flower-bed, communicated with the outhouses and +stable-yard by means of a green door in the wall. The part of the +vicarage appropriated to the servants' use was very old, dating, it is +said, from the days of Henry VIII, and some of the old windows were +still remaining. Mildred remembered the great stone kitchen and rambling +cellarage and the cosy housekeeper's room, where Betha had distilled her +fragrant waters and tied up her preserves. As she passed down the long +passage leading to the garden-door she could see old Nan, bare-armed and +bustling, clattering across the stones in her country clogs, the sunny +backyard distinctly visible. Some hens were clucking round a yellow pan; +the goat bleated from the distance; the white tombstones gleamed in the +morning sun; a scythe cut crisply through the wet grass; a fleet step on +the gravel behind the little summer-house lingered and then turned.</p> + +<p>'You are early, Aunt Milly—at least, for a Londoner, though we are +early people here, as you will find. I hope you have slept well.'</p> + +<p>'Not very well; my thoughts were too busy. Is it too early to go over to +the church yet, Richard?'</p> + +<p>'The bells will not ring for another half-hour, if that is what you +mean; but the key hangs in my father's study. I can take you over if you +wish.'</p> + +<p>'No, do not let me hinder you,' glancing at the Greek lexicon he held in +his hand.</p> + +<p>'Oh, my time is not so valuable as that,' he returned, good-humouredly. +'Of course you must see the restoration; it is my father's great work, +and he is justly proud of it. If you go over, Aunt Milly, I will be with +you in a minute.'</p> + +<p>Mildred obeyed, and waited in the grand old porch till Richard made his +appearance, panting, and slightly disturbed.</p> + +<p>'It was mislaid, as usual. When you get used to us a little more, Aunt +Milly, you will find that no one puts anything in its proper place. It +used not to be so' he continued, in a suppressed voice; 'but we have got +into sad ways lately; and Olive is a wretched manager.'</p> + +<p>'She is so young, Richard. What can you expect from a girl of fifteen?'</p> + +<p>'I have seen little women and little mothers at that age,' he returned, +with brusque quaintness. 'Some girls, placed as she is, would be quite +different; but Livy cares for nothing but books.'</p> + +<p>'She is clever then?'</p> + +<p>'I suppose so,' indifferently. 'My father says so, and so did——(he +paused, as though the word were difficult to utter)—'but—but she was +always trying to make her more womanly. Don't you think clever women are +intolerable, Aunt Milly?'</p> + +<p>'Not if they have wise heads and good hearts; but they need peculiar +training. Oh, how solemn and beautiful!' as Richard at last unlocked the +door; and they entered the vast empty church, with the morning sun +shining on its long aisles and glorious arcades.</p> + +<p>Richard's querulous voice was hushed in tender reverence now, as he +called Mildred to admire the highly-decorated roof and massive pillars, +and pointed out to her the different parts that had been restored.</p> + +<p>'The nave is Early English, and was built in 1220; the north aisle is of +the original width, and was restored in Perpendicular style; the window +at the eastern end is Early English too. The south aisle was widened +about 1500, and has been restored in the Perpendicular; and the +transepts are Early English, in which style the chancel also has been +rebuilt. Nothing of the original remains except the Sedilia, probably +late Early English, or perhaps the period sometimes called Wavy, or +Decorated.'</p> + +<p>'You know it all by heart, Richard. How grand those arches are; the +church itself is almost cathedral-like in its vast size.'</p> + +<p>'We are very fond of it,' he returned, gravely. 'Do you recollect this +chapel? It is called the Musgrave Chapel. One of these tombs belonged to +Sir Thomas Musgrave, who is said to have killed the last wild boar seen +in these parts, about the time of Edward III.'</p> + +<p>'Ah! I remember hearing that. You are a capital guide, Richard.'</p> + +<p>'Since my father has been ill, I have always taken strangers over the +church, and so one must be acquainted with the details. This is the +Wharton Chapel, Aunt Milly; and here is the tomb of Lord Thomas Wharton +and his two wives; it was built as a mortuary chapel, in the reign of +Elizabeth, so my father says. Ah! there is the bell, and I must go into +the vestry and see if my father be ready.'</p> + +<p>'You have not got a surpliced choir yet, Richard?'</p> + +<p>He shook his head.</p> + +<p>'We have to deal with northern prejudices; you have no idea how narrow +and bigoted some minds can be. I could tell you of a parish, not thirty +miles from here, where a sprig of holly in the church at Christmas would +breed a riot.'</p> + +<p>'Impossible, Richard!'</p> + +<p>'You should hear some of the Squire's stories about twenty years ago; +these are enlightened times compared to them. We are getting on +tolerably well, and can afford to wait; our daily services are badly +attended. There is the vicarage pew, Aunt Milly; I must go now.'</p> + +<p>Only nineteen—Richard's mannishness was absolutely striking; how wise +and sensible he seemed, and yet what underlying bitterness there was in +his words as he spoke of Olive. 'His heart is sore, poor lad, with +missing his mother,' thought Mildred, as she watched the athletic +figure, rather strong than graceful, cross the broad chancel; and then, +as she sat admiring the noble pulpit of Shap granite and Syenetic +marble, the vicarage pew began slowly to fill, and two or three people +took their places.</p> + +<p>Mildred stole a glance at her nieces: Olive looked heavy-eyed and +absent; and Chriss more untidy than she had been the previous night. +When service had begun she nudged her aunt twice, once to say Dr. Heriot +was not there, and next that Roy and Polly had come in late, and were +hiding behind the last pillar. She would have said more, but Richard +frowned her into silence. It was rather a dreary service; there was no +music, and the responses, with the exception of Richard's, were +inaudible in the vast building; but Mildred thought it restful, though +she grieved to see that her brother's worn face looked thinner and +sadder in the morning light, and his tall figure more bowed and feeble.</p> + +<p>He waited for her in the porch, where she lingered behind the others, +and greeted her with his old smile; and then he took Richard's arm.</p> + +<p>'We have a poor congregation you see, Mildred; even Heriot was not +there.'</p> + +<p>'Is he usually?' she asked, somewhat quickly.</p> + +<p>'I have never known him miss, unless some bad case has kept him up at +night. He joined us reluctantly at first, and more to please us than +himself; but he has grown into believing there is no fitter manner of +beginning the day; his example has infected two or three others, but I +am afraid we rarely number over a dozen. We do a little better at six +o'clock.'</p> + +<p>'It must be very disheartening to you, Arnold.'</p> + +<p>'I do not permit myself to feel so; if the people will not come, at +least they do not lack invitation—twice a day the bells ring out their +reproachful call. I wish Christians were half as devout as Mahometans.'</p> + +<p>'Mrs. Sadler calls it new-fangled nonsense, and says she has not time to +be always in church,' interrupted Chrissy, in her self-sufficient +treble.</p> + +<p>'My little Chriss, it is not good to repeat people's words. Mrs. Sadler +has small means and a large family, and the way she brings them up is +highly creditable.' But his gentle reproof fell unheeded.</p> + +<p>'But she need not have told Miss Martingale that she knew you were a +Ritualist at heart, and that the daily services were unnecessary +innovations,' returned Chrissy, stammering slightly over the long words.</p> + +<p>'Now, Contradiction, no one asked for this valuable piece of +information,' exclaimed Roy, with a warning pull at the rough tawny +mane; 'little girls like you ought not to meddle in parish matters. You +see Gregory has been steadily at work this morning, father,' pointing to +the long swathes of cut grass under the trees; 'the churchyard will be a +credit to us yet.'</p> + +<p>But Roy's good-natured artifice to turn his father's thoughts into a +pleasanter channel failed to lift the cloud that Chrissy's unfortunate +speech had raised.</p> + +<p>'Innovations! new-fangled ideas!' he muttered, in a grieved voice, +'simple obedience—that I dare not, on the peril of a bad conscience, +withhold, to the rules of the Church, to the loving precept that bids me +gather her children into morning and evening prayer.'</p> + +<p>'Contradiction, you deserve half-a-dozen pinches for this,' whispered +Roy; 'you have set him off on an old grievance.'</p> + +<p>'Never sacrifice principles, Cardie, when you are in my position,' +continued Mr. Lambert. 'If I had listened to opposing voices, our bells +would have kept silence from one Sunday to another. Ah, Milly! I often +ask myself, "Can these dry bones live?" The husks and tares that choke +the good seed in these narrow minds that listen to me Sunday after +Sunday would test the patience of any faithful preacher.'</p> + +<p>'Aunt Milly looks tired, and would be glad of her breakfast,' interposed +Richard.</p> + +<p>Mildred thanked him silently with her eyes; she knew her brother +sufficiently of old to dread the long vague self-argument that would +have detained them for another half-hour in the porch had not Richard's +dexterous hint proved effectual. Mildred learnt a great deal of the +habits of the family during the hour that followed; the quiet watchful +eyes made their own observation—and though she said little, nothing +escaped her tender scrutiny. She saw her brother would have eaten +nothing but for the half-laughing, half-coaxing attentions of Roy, who +sat next him. Roy prepared his egg, and buttered his toast, and placed +the cresses daintily on his plate, unperceived by Mr. Lambert, who was +opening his letters and glancing over his papers.</p> + +<p>When he had finished—and his appetite was very small—he pushed away +his plate, and sat looking over the fells, evidently lost in thought. +But his children, as though accustomed to his silence, took no further +notice of him, but carried on the conversation among themselves, only +dropping their voices when a heavier sigh than usual broke upon their +ears. The table was spread with a superabundance of viands that +surprised Mildred; but the cloth was not over clean, and was stained +with coffee in several places. Mildred fancied that it was to obviate +such a catastrophe for the future that Richard sat near the urn. A +German grammar lay behind the cups and saucers, and Olive munched her +bread and butter very ungracefully over it, only raising her head when +querulous or reproachful demands for coffee roused her reluctant +attention, and it evidently needed Richard's watchfulness that the cups +were not returned unsweetened to their owner.</p> + +<p>'There, you have done it again,' Mildred heard him say in a low voice. +'The second clean cloth this week disfigured with these unsightly brown +patches.'</p> + +<p>'Something must be the matter with the urn,' exclaimed Olive, looking +helplessly with regretful eyes at the mischief.</p> + +<p>'Nonsense, the only fault is that you will do two things at a time. You +have eaten no breakfast, at least next to none, and made us all +uncomfortable. And pray how much German have you done?'</p> + +<p>'I can't help it, Cardie; I have so much to do, and there seems no time +for things.'</p> + +<p>'I should say not, to judge by this,' interposed Roy, wickedly, +executing a pirouette round his sister's chair, to bring a large hole in +his sock to view. 'Positively the only pair in my drawers. It is too +hard, isn't it, Dick?'</p> + +<p>But Richard's disgust was evidently too great for words, and the +unbecoming flush deepened on Olive's sallow cheeks.</p> + +<p>'I was working up to twelve o'clock at night,' she said, looking ready +to cry, and appealing to her silent accuser. 'Don't laugh, Chriss, you +were asleep; how could you know?'</p> + +<p>'Were you mending this?' asked her brother gravely, holding up a breadth +of torn crape for her inspection, fastened by pins, and already woefully +frayed out.</p> + +<p>'I had no time,' still defending herself heavily, but without temper. +'Please leave it alone, Cardie, you are making it worse. I had Chriss's +frock to do; and I was hunting for your things, but I could not find +them.'</p> + +<p>'I dare say not. I dare not trust myself to your tender mercies. I took +a carpet bagful down to old Margaret. If Rex took my advice, he would do +the same.'</p> + +<p>'No, no, I will do his to-day. I will indeed, Rex. I am so sorry about +it. Chriss ought to help me, but she never does, and she tears her +things so dreadfully,' finished Olive, reproachfully.</p> + +<p>'What can you expect from a contradicting baby,' returned Roy, with +another pull at the ill-kempt locks as he passed. Chriss gave him a +vixenish look, but her aunt's presence proved a restraining influence. +Evidently Chriss was not a favourite with her brothers, for Roy teased, +and Richard snubbed her pertness severely. Roy, however, seemed to +possess a fund of sweet temper for family use, which was a marked +contrast to Richard's dictatorial and somewhat stern manner, and he +hastened now to cover poor Olive's discomfiture.</p> + +<p>'Never mind, Lily, a little extra ventilation is not unhealthy, and is a +somewhat wholesome discipline; you may cobble me up a pair for to-morrow +if you like.'</p> + +<p>'You are very good, Roy, but I am sorry all the same, only Cardie will +not believe it,' returned Olive. There were tears in the poor girl's +voice, and she evidently felt her brother's reproof keenly.</p> + +<p>'Actions are better than words,' was the curt reply. 'But this is not +very amusing for Aunt Milly. What are you and Miss Ellison going to do +with yourselves this morning?'</p> + +<p>'Bother Miss Ellison; why don't you call her Polly?' burst in Roy, +irreverently.</p> + +<p>'I have not given him leave,' returned the little lady haughtily. 'You +were rude, and took the permission without asking.'</p> + +<p>'Nonsense, don't be dignified, Polly; it does' not suit you. We are +cousins, aren't we? brothers and sisters once removed?'</p> + +<p>'I am Aunt Milly's niece; but I am not to call him Uncle Arnold, am I?' +was Polly's unexpected retort. But the shout it raised roused even Mr. +Lambert.</p> + +<p>'Call me what you like, my dear; never mind my boy's mischief,' laying +his hand on Roy's shoulder caressingly. 'He is as skittish and full of +humour as a colt; but a good lad in the main.'</p> + +<p>Polly contemplated them gravely, and pondered the question; then she +reached out a little hand and touched Mr. Lambert timidly.</p> + +<p>'No! I will not call you Uncle Arnold; it does not seem natural. I like +Mr. Lambert best. But Roy is nice, and may call me what he likes; and +Richard, too, if he will not be so cross.'</p> + +<p>'Thanks, my princess,' answered Roy, with mocking reverence. 'So you +don't approve of Dick's temper, eh?'</p> + +<p>'I think Olive stupid to bear it; but he means well,' returned Polly +composedly. And as Richard drew himself up affronted at the young +stranger's plain speaking, she looked in his face, in her frank childish +way, 'Cardie is prettier than Richard, and I will call you that if you +like, but you must not frown at me and tell me to do things as you tell +Olive. I am not accustomed to be treated like a little sheep,' finished +Polly, naively; and Richard, despite his vexed dignity, was compelled to +join in the laugh that greeted this speech.</p> + +<p>'Polly and I ought to unpack,' suggested Mildred, in her wise +matter-of-fact way, hoping to restore the harmony that every moment +seemed to disturb.</p> + +<p>'No one will invade your privacy to-day, Aunt Milly; it would be a +violation of county etiquette to call upon strangers till they had been +seen at church. You and Miss——' Richard paused awkwardly, and hurried +on—'You will have plenty of time to settle yourself and get rested.'</p> + +<p>'Fie, Dick—what a blank. You are to be nameless now, Polly,'</p> + +<p>'Don't be so insufferably tiresome, Rex; one can never begin a sensible +conversation in this house, what with Chriss's contradictions on one +side and your jokes on the other.'</p> + +<p>'Poor old Issachar between two burdens,' returned Roy, patting him +lightly. 'Cheer up; don't lose heart; try again, my lad. Aunt Milly, +when you have finished with Polly, I want to show her Podgill, our +favourite wood; and Olive and Chriss shall go too.'</p> + +<p>'Wait till the afternoon, Roy, and then we can manage it,' broke in +Chriss, breathlessly.</p> + +<p>'You can go, Christine, but I have no time,' returned Olive wearily; but +as Richard seemed on the point of making some comment, she gathered up +her books, and, stumbling heavily over her torn dress in her haste, +hurried from the room.</p> + +<p>Mildred and Polly shut themselves in their rooms, and were busy till +dinner-time. Once or twice when Mildred had occasion to go downstairs +she came upon Olive; once she was standing by the hall table jingling a +basket of keys, and evidently in weary argument on domestic matters with +Nan—Nan's broad Westmorland dialect striking sharply against Olive's +feeble refined key.</p> + +<p>'Titter its dune an better, Miss Olive—t' butcher will send fleshmeat +sure enough, but I maun gang and order it mysel'.'</p> + +<p>'Very well, Nan, but it must not be that joint; Mr. Richard does not +like it, and——'</p> + +<p>'Eh! I cares lile for Master Richard,' grumbled Nan, crossly. 'T'auld +maister is starved amyast—a few broth will suit him best.'</p> + +<p>'But we can have the broth as well,' returned Olive, with patient +persistence. 'Mamma always studied what Richard liked, and he must not +feel the difference now.'</p> + +<p>'Nay, then I maun just gang butcher's mysel', and see after it.'</p> + +<p>But Mildred heard no more. By and by, as she was sorting some books on +the window seat, she saw Chrissy scudding across the courtyard, and +Olive following her with a heavy load of books in her arms; the elder +girl was plodding on with downcast head and stooping shoulders, the +unfortunate black dress trailing unheeded over the rough beck gravel, +and the German grammar still open in her hand.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h3>OLIVE</h3> + +<blockquote><p>'The yearnings of her solitary spirit, the out-gushings of her +shrinking sensibility, the cravings of her alienated heart, are +indulged only in the quiet holiness of her solitude. The world +sees not, guesses not the conflict, and in the ignorance of +others lies her strength.'—<span class="smcap">Bethmont.</span></p></blockquote> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>Dinner was hardly a sociable meal at the vicarage. Olive was in her +place looking hot and dusty when Mildred came downstairs, and Chriss +tore in and took her seat in breathless haste, but the boys did not make +their appearance till it was half over. Richard immediately seated +himself by his aunt, and explained the reason of their delay in a low +tone, though he interrupted himself once by a few reproachful words to +Olive on the comfortless appearance of the room.</p> + +<p>'It is Chriss's fault,' returned Olive. 'I have asked her so often not +to bring all that litter in at dinner-time; and, Chriss, you have pulled +down the blind too.'</p> + +<p>Richard darted an angry look at the offender, which was met defiantly, +and then he resumed the subject, though with a perturbed brow. Roy and +he had been over to Musgrave to read classics with the vicar. Roy had +left Sedbergh, and since their trouble their father had been obliged to +resign this duty to another. 'He was bent on preparing me for Oxford +himself, but since his illness he has occupied himself solely with +parish matters. So Mr. Wigram offered to read with us for a few months, +and as the offer was too good a one to be refused, Roy and I walk over +three or four times a week.'</p> + +<p>'Have you settled to take Holy Orders then, Richard?' asked Mildred, a +little surprised.</p> + +<p>'It has been settled for me, I believe,' he returned, a slight hardness +perceptible in his voice; 'at least it is my father's great wish, and I +have not yet made up my mind to disappoint him, though I own there is a +probability of my doing so.'</p> + +<p>'And Roy?'</p> + +<p>Richard smiled grimly. 'You had better ask him; he is looked upon in the +light of a sucking barrister, but he is nothing but a dabbler in art at +present; he has been under a hedge most of the morning, taking the +portrait of a tramp that he chose to consider picturesque. Where is your +Zingara, Roy?' But Roy chose to be deaf, and went on eagerly with his +plans for the afternoon's excursion to Podgill.</p> + +<p>Mildred watched the party set out, Polly and Chriss in their +broad-brimmed hats, and Roy with a sketch-book under his arm. Richard +was going over to Nateby with his father. Olive looked after them +longingly.</p> + +<p>'My dear, are you not going too? it will do you good; and I am sure you +have a headache.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, it is nothing,' returned Olive, putting her hair back with her +hands; 'it is so warm this afternoon, and——'</p> + +<p>'And you were up late last night,' continued Mildred in a sympathising +voice.</p> + +<p>'Not later than usual. I often work when the others go to bed; it does +not hurt me,' she finished hastily, as a dissenting glance from Mildred +met her. 'Indeed, I am quite strong, and able to bear much more.'</p> + +<p>'We must not work the willing horse, then. Come, my dear, put on your +hat; or let me fetch it for you, and we will overtake the Podgill +party.'</p> + +<p>'Oh no,' returned Olive, shrinking back, and colouring nervously. 'You +may go, aunt; but Rex does not want me, or Chriss either; nobody wants +me—and I have so much work to do.'</p> + +<p>'What sort of work, mending?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, all the socks and things. I try to keep them under, but there is a +basketful still. Roy and Chriss are so careless, and wear out their +things; and then you heard Richard say he could not trust me with his.'</p> + +<p>'Richard is particular; many young men are. You must not be so +sensitive, Olive. Well, my dear, I shall be very glad of your help, of +course; but these things will be my business now.'</p> + +<p>Olive contracted her brow in a puzzled way. 'I do not understand.'</p> + +<p>'Not that I have come to be your father's housekeeper, and to save your +young shoulders from being quite weighed down with burdens too heavy for +them? There, come into my room, and let us talk this matter over at our +leisure. Our fingers can be busy at the same time;' and drawing the girl +gently to a low seat by the open window, Mildred placed herself beside +her, and was soon absorbed in the difficulties of a formidable rent.</p> + +<p>'You must be tired too, aunt,' observed Olive presently, with an +admiring glance at the erect figure and nimble fingers.</p> + +<p>'Not too tired to listen if you have anything to tell me,' returned +Mildred with a winning smile. 'I want to hear where all those books were +going this morning, and why Chriss was running on empty-handed.'</p> + +<p>'Chriss does not like carrying things, and I don't mind,' replied Olive. +'We go every morning, and in the afternoon too when we are able, to +study with Mrs. Cranford; she is so nice and clever. She is a +Frenchwoman, and has lived in Germany half her life; only she married an +Englishman.'</p> + +<p>'And you study with her?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, Dr. Heriot recommended her; she was a great friend of his, and +after her husband's death—he was a lawyer here—she was obliged to do +something to maintain herself and her three little girls, so Dr. Heriot +proposed her opening a sort of school; not a regular one, you know, but +just morning and afternoon classes for a few girls.'</p> + +<p>'Have you many companions?'</p> + +<p>'No; only Gertrude Sadler and the two Misses Northcote. Polly is to join +us, I believe.'</p> + +<p>'So her guardian says. I hope, you like our young <i>protégée</i> Olive.'</p> + +<p>'I shall not dislike her, at least, for one reason,' and as Mildred +looked up in surprise, she added more graciously, 'I mean we are all so +fond of Dr. Heriot that we will try to like her for his sake.'</p> + +<p>'Polly deserves to be loved for her own sake,' replied Mildred, somewhat +piqued at Olive's coldness. 'I was wrong to ask you such a question. Of +course you cannot judge of any one in so short a time.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, it is not that,' returned Olive, eager, and yet stammering. 'I am +afraid I am slow to like people always, and Polly seems so bright and +clever, that I am sure never to get on with her.'</p> + +<p>'My dear Olive, you must not allow yourself to form such morbid ideas. +Polly is very original, and will charm you into liking her, before many +days are over; even our fastidious Richard shows signs of relenting.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, but he will never care for her as Roy seems to do already. Cardie +cares for so few people; you don't half know how particular he is, and +how soon he is offended; nothing but perfection will ever please him,' +she finished with a sigh.</p> + +<p>'We must not be too hard in our estimate of other people. I am half +inclined to find fault with Richard myself in this respect; he does not +make sufficient allowance for a very young housekeeper,' laying her hand +softly on Olive's dark hair; and as the girl looked up at her quickly, +surprised by the caressing action, Mildred noticed, for the first time, +the bright intelligence of the brown eyes.</p> + +<p>'Oh, you must not say that,' she returned, colouring painfully. 'Cardie +is very good, and helps me as much as he can; but you see he was so used +to seeing mamma do everything so beautifully.'</p> + +<p>'It is not worse for Richard than for the others.'</p> + +<p>'Oh yes, it is; she made so much of him, and they were always together. +Roy feels it dreadfully; but he is light-hearted, and forgets it at +times. I don't think Cardie ever does.'</p> + +<p>'How do you know; does he tell you so?' asked Mildred, with kindly +scrutiny.</p> + +<p>Olive shook her head mournfully. 'No, he never talks to me, at least in +that way; but I know it all the same; one can tell it by his silence and +pained look. It makes him irritable too. Roy has terrible breaks-down +sometimes, and so has Chriss; but no one knows what Cardie suffers.'</p> + +<p>Mildred dropped her work, and regarded the young speaker attentively. +There was womanly thoughtfulness, and an underlying tenderness in the +words of this girl of fifteen; under the timid reserve there evidently +beat a warm, affectionate heart. For a moment Mildred scanned the +awkward hunching of the shoulders, the slovenly dress and hair, and the +plain, cloudy face, so slow to beam into anything like a smile; Olive's +normal expression seemed a heavy, anxious look, that furrowed her brow +with unnatural lines, and made her appear years older than her actual +age; the want of elasticity and the somewhat slouching gait confirming +this impression.</p> + +<p>'If she were not so plain; if she would only dress and hold herself like +other people, and be a little less awkward,' sighed Mildred. 'No wonder +Richard's fastidiousness is so often offended; but his continual +fault-finding makes her worse. She is too humble-minded to defend +herself, and too generous to resent his interference. If I do not +mistake, this girl has a fine nature, though it is one that is difficult +to understand; but to think of this being Betha's daughter!' and a +vision rose before Mildred of the slight, graceful figure and active +movements of the bright young house-mother, so strangely contrasted with +Olive's clumsy gestures.</p> + +<p>The silence was unbroken for a little time, and then Olive raised her +head. 'I think I must go down now, the others will be coming in. It has +been a nice quiet time, and has done my head good; but,' a little +plaintively, 'I am afraid I have not done much work.'</p> + +<p>Mildred laughed. 'Why not? you have not looked out of the window half so +often as I have. I suppose you are too used to all that purple +loveliness; your eyes have not played truant once.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, it is very beautiful; but one seems to have no time now to enjoy,' +sighed the poor drudge. 'You work so fast, aunt; your fingers fly. I +shall always be awkward at my needle; mamma said so.'</p> + +<p>'It is a pity, of course; but perhaps your talents lie in another +direction,' returned her aunt, gravely. 'You must not lose heart, Olive. +It is possible to acquire ordinary skill by persevering effort.'</p> + +<p>'If one had leisure to learn—I mean to take pains. But look, how little +I have done all this afternoon.' Olive looked so earnest and lugubrious +that Mildred bit her lip to keep in the amused smile.</p> + +<p>'My dear,' she returned quaintly, 'there is a sin not mentioned in the +Decalogue, but which is a very common one among women, nevertheless, +"the lust of finishing." We ought to love work for the work's sake, and +leave results more than we do. Over-hurry and too great anxiety for +completion has a great deal to do with the overwrought nerves of which +people complain nowadays. "In quietness and in confidence shall be your +strength."'</p> + +<p>Olive looked up with something like tears in her eyes. 'Oh, aunt, how +beautiful. I never thought of that.'</p> + +<p>'Did you not? I will illuminate the text for you and hang it in your +room. So much depends on the quietness we bring to our work; without +being exactly miserly with our eyes and hands, as you have been this +afternoon, one can do so much with a little wise planning of our time, +always taking care not to resent interference by others. You will think +I deal in proverbial philosophy, if I give you another maxim, "Man's +importunity is God's opportunity."'</p> + +<p>'I will always try to remember that when Chriss interrupts me, as she +does continually,' answered Olive, thoughtfully. 'People say there are +no such things as conflicting duties, but I have often such hard work to +decide—which is the right thing to be done.'</p> + +<p>'I will give you an infallible guide then: choose that which seems +hardest, or most disagreeable; consciences are slippery things; they +always give us such good reasons for pleasing ourselves.'</p> + +<p>'I don't think that would answer with me,' returned Olive doubtfully. +'There are so many things I do not like, the disagreeable duties quite +fill one's day. I like hearing you talk very much, aunt. But there is +Cardie's voice, and he will be disappointed not to find the tea ready +when he comes in from church.'</p> + +<p>'Then I will not detain you another moment; but you must promise me one +thing.'</p> + +<p>'What is that?'</p> + +<p>'There must be no German book behind the urn to-night. Better ill-learnt +verbs than jarring harmony, and a trifle that vexes the soul of another +ceases to be a trifle. There, run along, my child.'</p> + +<p>Mildred had seen very little of her brother that day, and after tea she +accompanied him for a quiet stroll in the churchyard. There was much +that she had to hear and tell. Arnold would fain know the particulars of +his mother's last hours from her lips, while she on her side yearned for +a fuller participation in her brother's sorrow, and to gather up the +treasured recollections of the sister she had loved so well.</p> + +<p>The quiet evening hour—the scene—the place—fitted well with such +converse. Arnold was less reticent to-night, and though his smothered +tones of pain at times bore overwhelming testimony to the agony that had +shattered his very soul, his expressions of resignation, and the absence +of anything like bitterness in the complaint that he had lost his youth, +the best and brightest part of himself, drew his sister's heart to him +in endearing reverence.</p> + +<p>'I was dumb, and opened not my mouth, because Thou didst it,' seemed to +be the unspoken language of his thoughts, and every word breathed the +same mournful submission to what was felt to be the chastisement of +love.</p> + +<p>'Dear, beautiful Betha; but she was ready to go, Arnold?'</p> + +<p>'None so ready as she—God forbid it were otherwise—but I do not know. +I sometimes think the darling would have been glad to stay a little +longer with me. Hers was the nature that saw the sunny side of life. +Heriot could never make her share in his dark views of earthly troubles. +If the cloud came she was always looking for the silver lining.'</p> + +<p>'It is sad to think how rare these natures are,' replied Mildred. 'What +a contrast to our mother's sickbed!'</p> + +<p>'Ah, then we had to battle with the morbidity of hypochondria, the +sickness of the body aggravated by the diseased action of the mind, the +thickening of shadows that never existed except in one weary brain. My +darling never lost her happy smile except when she saw my grief. I think +that troubled the still waters of her soul. In thinking of their end, +Mildred, one is reminded of Bunyan's glorious allegory—glorious, +inspired, I should rather say. That part where the pilgrims make ready +for their passage across the river. My darling Betha entered the river +with the sweet bravery of Christiana, while, according to your account, +my poor mother's sufferings only ceased with her breath.'</p> + +<p>'Yet she was praying for the end to come, Arnold.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, but the grasshopper was ever a burden to her. Do you remember what +stout old Bunyan says? "The last words of Mr. Despondency were: Farewell +night! Welcome day! His daughter (Much-afraid) went through the river +singing, but no one could understand what she said."'</p> + +<p>'As no one could tell the meaning of the sweet solemn smile that crossed +our mother's face at the last; she had no fears then, Arnold.'</p> + +<p>'Just so. If she could have spoken she would have doubtless told you +that such was the case, or used such words as Mr. Despondency leaves as +his dying legacy. Do you remember them, Mildred? They are so true of +many sick souls,' and he quoted in a low sweet voice, '"My will and my +daughter's is (that tender, loving Much-afraid, Milly), that our +desponds and slavish fears be by no man ever received from the day of +our departure for ever, for I know after my death they will offer +themselves to others. For, to be plain with you, they are ghosts which +we entertained when we first began to be pilgrims, and could never throw +them off after; and they will walk about and seek entertainment of the +pilgrims; but, for our sakes, shut the doors upon them."'</p> + +<p>'It is a large subject, Arnold, and a very painful one.'</p> + +<p>'It is one on which you should talk to Heriot; he has a fine +benevolence, and is very tender in his dealings with these +self-tormentors. He is always fighting the shadows, as he calls them.'</p> + +<p>'I have often wondered why women are so much more morbid than men.'</p> + +<p>'Their lives are more to blame than they; want of vigour and action, a +much-to-be-deplored habit of incessant introspection and a too nice +balancing of conscientious scruples, a lack of large-mindedness, and +freedom of principle. All these things lie at the root of the mischief. +As John Heriot has it, "The thinking machine is too finely polished."'</p> + +<p>'I fancy Olive is slightly bitten with the complaint,' observed Mildred, +wishing to turn her brother's thought to more practical matters.</p> + +<p>'Indeed! her mother never told me so. She once said Olive was a noble +creature in a chrysalis state, and that she had a mind beyond the +generality of girls, but she generally only laughed at her for a +bookworm, and blamed her for want of order. I don't profess to +understand my children,' he continued mournfully; 'their mother was +everything to them. Richard often puzzles me, and Olive still more. Roy +is the most transparent, and Christine is a mere child. It has often +struck me lately that the girls are in sad need of training. Betha was +over-lenient with them, and Richard is too hard at times.'</p> + +<p>'They are at an angular age,' returned his sister, smiling. 'Olive seems +docile, and much may be made of her. I suppose you wish me to enter on +my new duties at once, Arnold?'</p> + +<p>'The sooner the better, but I hope you do not expect me to define them?'</p> + +<p>'Can a mother's duties be defined?' she asked, very gravely.</p> + +<p>'Sweetly said, Milly. I shall not fear to trust my girls to you after +that. Ah, there comes Master Richard to tell us the dews are falling.'</p> + +<p>Richard gave Mildred a reproachful look as he hastened to his father's +side.</p> + +<p>'You have let him talk too much; he will have no sleep to-night, Aunt +Milly. You have been out here more than two hours, and supper is +waiting.'</p> + +<p>'So late, Cardie? Well, well; it is something to find time can pass +otherwise than slowly now. You must not find fault with your aunt; she +is a good creature, and her talk has refreshed me. I hope, Milly, you +and my boy mean to be great friends.'</p> + +<p>'Do you doubt it, sir?' asked Richard gravely.</p> + +<p>'I don't doubt your good heart, Cardie, though your aunt may not always +understand your manner,' answered his father gently. 'Youth is sometimes +narrow-minded and intolerant, Milly. One graduates in the school of +charity later in life.'</p> + +<p>'I understand your reproof, sir. I am aware you consider me often +overbearing and dogmatical, but in my opinion petty worries would try +the temper of a saint.'</p> + +<p>'Pin-pricks often repeated would be as bad as a dagger-thrust, and not +nearly so dignified. Never mind, Cardie, many people find toleration a +very difficult duty.'</p> + +<p>'I could never tolerate evils of our own making, and what is more, I +should never consider it my duty to do so. I do not know that you would +have to complain of my endurance in greater matters.'</p> + +<p>'Possibly not, Cardie. This boy of mine, Milly,' pressing the strong +young arm on which he leant, 'is always leading some crusade or other. +He ought to have lived centuries ago, and belted on his sword as a Red +Cross Knight. He would have brought us home one of the dragon's heads at +last.'</p> + +<p>'You are jesting,' returned Richard, with a forced smile.</p> + +<p>'A poor jest, Cardie, then; only clothing the truth in allegory. After +all, you are right, my boy, and I am somewhat weary; help me to my +study. I will not join the others to-night.'</p> + +<p>Richard's face so plainly expressed 'I told you so,' that Mildred felt a +warm flush come to her face, as though she had been discovered in a +fault. It added to her annoyance also to find on inquiry that Olive had +been shut up in her room all the evening, 'over Roy's socks,' as Chrissy +explained, while the others had been wandering over the fells at their +own sweet will.</p> + +<p>'This will never do; you will be quite ill, Olive,' exclaimed Mildred, +impatiently; but as Richard entered that moment, to fetch some wine for +his father, she forbore to say any more, only entering a mental resolve +to kidnap the offending basket and lock it up safely from Olive's +scrupulous fingers.</p> + +<p>'I am coming into your room to have a talk,' whispered Polly when supper +was over; 'I have hardly seen you all day. How I do miss not having my +dear Aunt Milly to myself.'</p> + +<p>'I don't believe you have missed me at all, Polly,' returned Mildred, +stroking the short hair, and looking with a sort of relief into the +bright piquant face, for her heart was heavy with many sad thoughts.</p> + +<p>'Roy and I have been talking about you, though; he has found out you +have a pretty hand, and so you have.'</p> + +<p>'Silly children.'</p> + +<p>'He says you are awfully jolly. That is the schoolboy jargon he talks; +but he means it too; and even Chriss says you are not so bad, though she +owned she dreaded your coming.'</p> + +<p>Mildred winced at this piece of unpalatable intelligence, but she only +replied quietly, 'Chrissy was afraid I should prove strict, I suppose.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, don't let us talk of Chriss,' interrupted Polly, eagerly; 'she is +intolerable. I want to tell you about Roy. Do you know, Aunt Milly, he +wants to be an artist.'</p> + +<p>'Richard hinted as much at dinner time.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, Richard only laughs at him, and thinks it is all nonsense; but I +have lived among artists all my life,' continued Polly, drawing herself +up, 'and I am quite sure Roy is in earnest. We were talking about it all +the afternoon, while Chrissy was hunting for bird-nests. He told me all +his plans, and I have promised to help him.'</p> + +<p>'It appears his father intends him to be a barrister.'</p> + +<p>'Yes; some old uncle left him a few hundred pounds, and Mr. Lambert +wished him to go to the University, and, as he had no vocation for the +Church, to study for the bar. Roy told me all about it; he cannot bear +disappointing his father, but he is quite sure that he will make nothing +but an artist.'</p> + +<p>'Many boys have these fancies. You ought not to encourage him in it +against his father's wish.'</p> + +<p>'Roy is seventeen, Aunt Milly; as he says, he is no child, and he draws +such beautiful pictures. I have told him all about Dad Fabian, and he +wants to have him here, and ask his advice about things. Dad could look +after Roy when he goes to London. Roy and I have arranged everything.'</p> + +<p>'My dear Polly,' began Mildred, in a reproving tone; but her +remonstrance was cut short, for at that instant loud sobs were +distinctly audible from the farthest room, where the girls slept.</p> + +<p>Mildred rose at once, and softly opened the door; at the same moment +there was a quick step on the stairs, and Richard's low, admonishing +voice reached her ear; but as the loud sobbing sounds still continued, +Mildred followed him in unperceived.</p> + +<p>'Hush, Chrissy. What is all this about? You are disturbing my father; +but, as usual, you only think of yourself.'</p> + +<p>'Please don't speak to her like that, Cardie,' pleaded Olive. 'She is +not naughty; she has only woke up in a fright; she has been dreaming, I +think.'</p> + +<p>'Dreaming!—I should think so, with that light full in her eyes, those +sickening German books as usual,' with a glance of disgust at the little +round table, strewn with books and work, from which Olive had evidently +that moment risen. 'There, hush, Chrissy, like a good girl, and don't +let us have any more of this noise.'</p> + +<p>'No, I can't. Oh, Cardie, I want mamma—I want mamma!' cried poor +Chrissy, rolling on her pillow in childish abandonment of sorrow, but +making heroic efforts to stifle her sobs. 'Oh, mamma—mamma—mamma!'</p> + +<p>'Hush!—lie silent. Do you think you are the only one who wants her?' +returned Richard, sternly; but the hand that held the bedpost shook +visibly, and he turned very pale as he spoke. 'We must bear what we have +to bear, Chrissy.'</p> + +<p>'But I won't bear it,' returned the spoilt child. 'I can't bear it, +Cardie; you are all so unkind to me. I want to kiss her, and put my arms +round her, as I dreamt I was doing. I don't love God for taking her +away, when she didn't want to go; I know she didn't.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, hush, Chriss—don't be wicked!' gasped out Olive, with the tears in +her eyes; but, as though the child's words had stung him beyond +endurance, Richard turned on her angrily.</p> + +<p>'What is the good of reasoning with a child in this state? can't you +find something better to say? You are of no use at all, Olive. I don't +believe you feel the trouble as much as we do.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, she does. You must not speak so to your sister, Richard. Hush, my +dear—hush;' and Mildred stooped with sorrowful motherly face over the +pillow, where Chrissy, now really hysterical, was stuffing a portion of +the sheet in her mouth to resist an almost frantic desire to scream. 'Go +to my room, Olive, and you will find a little bottle of sal-volatile on +my table. The child has been over-tired. I noticed she looked pale at +supper.' And as Olive brought it to her with shaking hand and pallid +face, Mildred quietly measured the drops, and, beckoning to Richard to +assist her, administered the stimulating draught to the exhausted child. +Chrissy tried to push it away, but Mildred's firm, 'You must drink it, +my dear,' overcame her resistance, though her painful choking made +swallowing difficult.</p> + +<p>'Now we will try some nice fresh water to this hot face and these +feverish hands,' continued Mildred, in a brisk, cheerful tone; and +Chrissy ceased her miserable sobbing in astonishment at the novel +treatment. Every one but Dr. Heriot had scolded her for these fits, and +in consequence she had used an unwholesome degree of restraint for a +child: an unusually severe breakdown had been the result.</p> + +<p>'Give me a brush, Olive, to get rid of some of this tangle. I think we +look a little more comfortable now, Richard. Let me turn your pillow, +dear—there, now;' and Mildred tenderly rested the child's heavy head +against her shoulder, stroking the rough yellowish mane very softly. +Chrissy's sobs were perceptibly lessening now, though she still gasped +out 'mamma' at intervals.</p> + +<p>'She is better now,' whispered Mildred, who saw Richard still near them. +'Had you not better go downstairs, or your father will wonder?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, I will go,' he returned; yet he still lingered, as though some +visitings of compunction for his hardness troubled him. 'Good-night, +Chrissy;' but Chrissy, whose cheek rested comfortably against her aunt's +shoulder, took no notice. Possibly want of sympathy had estranged the +little sore heart.</p> + +<p>'Kiss your brother, my dear, and bid him good-night. All this has given +him pain.' And as Chrissy still hesitated, Richard, with more feeling +than he had hitherto shown, bent over them, and kissed them both, and +then paused by the little round table.</p> + +<p>'I am very sorry I said that, Livy.'</p> + +<p>'There was no harm in saying it, if you thought it, Cardie. I am only +grieved at that.'</p> + +<p>'I ought not to have said it, all the same; but it is enough to drive +one frantic to see how different everything is.' Then, in a whisper, and +looking at Mildred, 'Aunt Milly has given us all a lesson; me, as well +as you. You must try to be like her, Livy.'</p> + +<p>'I will try;' but the tone was hopeless.</p> + +<p>'You must begin by plucking up a little spirit, then. Well, good-night.'</p> + +<p>'Good-night, Cardie,' was the listless answer, as she suffered him to +kiss her cheek. 'It was only Olive's ordinary want of demonstration,' +Richard thought, as he turned away, a little relieved by his voluntary +confession; 'only one of her cold, tiresome ways.'</p> + +<p>Only one of her ways!</p> + +<p>Long after Chrissy had fallen into a refreshing sleep, and Mildred had +crept softly away to sleepy, wondering Polly, Olive sat at the little +round table with her face buried in her arms, both hid in the +loosely-dropping hair.</p> + +<p>'I could have borne him to have said anything else but this,' she +moaned. 'Not feel as they do, not miss her as much, my dear, beautiful +mother, who never scolded me, who believed in me always, even when I +disappointed her most;—oh, Cardie, Cardie, how could you have found it +in your heart to say that!'</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h3>CAIN AND ABEL</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'There was a little stubborn dame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom no authority could tame;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Restive by long indulgence grown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No will she minded but her own.'—<span class="smcap">Wilkie.</span><br /></span> +</div></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>Chrissy was sufficiently unwell the next day to make her aunt's petting +a wholesome remedy. In moments of languor and depression even a +whimsical and erratic nature will submit to a winning power of +gentleness, and Chriss's flighty little soul was no exception to the +rule: the petting, being a novelty, pleased and amused her, while it +evidently astonished the others. Olive was too timid and awkward, and +Richard too quietly matter-of-fact, to deal largely in caresses, while +Roy's demonstrations somehow never included Contradiction Chriss.</p> + +<p>Chriss unfortunately belonged to the awkward squad, whose manœuvres +were generally held to interfere with every one else. People gave her a +wide berth; she trod on their moral corns and offended their tenderest +prejudices; she was growing up thin-lipped and sharp-tongued, and there +was a spice of venom in her words that was not altogether childlike.</p> + +<p>'My poor little girl,' thought Mildred, as she sat beside her working; +'it is very evident that the weeds are growing up fast for lack of +attention. Some flowers will only grow in the sunshine; no child's +nature, however sweet, will thrive in an atmosphere of misunderstanding +and constant fault-finding.'</p> + +<p>Chrissy liked lying in that cool room, arranging Aunt Milly's work-box, +or watching her long white fingers as they moved so swiftly. Without +wearying the overtasked child, Mildred kept up a strain of pleasant +conversation that stimulated curiosity and raised interest. She had even +leisure and self-denial enough to lay aside a half-crossed darn to read +a story when Chriss's nerves seemed jarring into fretfulness again, and +was rather pleased than otherwise when, at a critical moment, long-drawn +breaths warned her that she had fallen into a sound sleep.</p> + +<p>Mildred sat and pondered over a hundred new plans, while tired Chriss +lay with the sweet air blowing on her and the bees humming underneath +the window. Now and then she stole a glance at the little figure, +recumbent under the heartsease quilt. 'She would be almost pretty if +those sharp lines were softened and that tawny tangle of hair arranged +properly; she has nice long eyelashes and a tolerably fair skin, though +it would be the better for soap and water,' thought motherly Mildred, +with the laudable anxiety of one determined to make the best of +everything, though a secret feeling still troubled her that Chrissy +would be the least attractive to her of the four.</p> + +<p>Chrissy's sleep lengthened into hours; that kindly foster-nurse Nature +often taking restorative remedies of forcible narcotics into her own +hands. She woke hungry and talkative, and after partaking of the +tempting meal her aunt had provided, submitted with tolerable docility +when Mildred announced her intention of making war with the tangles.</p> + +<p>'It hurts dreadfully. I often wish I were bald—don't you, Aunt Milly?' +asked Chrissy, wincing in spite of her bravery.</p> + +<p>'In that case you will not mind if I thin some of this shagginess,' +laughed Mildred, at the same time arming herself with a formidable pair +of shears. 'I wonder you are not afraid of Absalom's fate when you go +bird-nesting.'</p> + +<p>'I wish you would cut it all off, like Polly's,' pleaded Chriss, her +eyes sparkling at the notion. 'It makes my head so hot, and it is such a +trouble. It would be worth anything to see Cardie's face when I go +downstairs, looking like a clipped sheep; he would not speak to me for a +week. Do please, Aunt Milly.'</p> + +<p>'My dear, do you think that such a desirable result?'</p> + +<p>'What, making Cardie angry? I like to do it of all things. He never gets +into a rage like Roy—when you have worked him up properly—but his +mouth closes as though his lips were iron, as though it would never open +again; and when he does speak, which is not for a very long time, his +words seem to clip as sharp as your scissors—"Christine, I am ashamed +of you!"'</p> + +<p>'Those were the very words I wanted to use myself.'</p> + +<p>'What?' and Chrissy screwed herself round in astonishment to look in her +aunt's grave face. 'I am quite serious, I assure you, Aunt Milly. I +sha'n't mind if I look like a singed pony, or a convict; Rex is sure to +call me both. Shall I fetch a pudding-basin and have it done—as Mrs. +Stokes always does little Jem's?'</p> + +<p>'Hush, Chrissy; this is pure childish nonsense. There! I've trimmed the +refractory locks: you look a tidy little girl now. You have really very +pretty hair, if you would only keep it in order,' continued Mildred, +trying artfully to rouse a spark of womanly vanity; but Chriss only +pouted.</p> + +<p>'I would rather be like the singed pony.'</p> + +<p>'Silly child!'</p> + +<p>'Rex was in quite a temper when Polly said she hoped hers would never +grow again. You have spoiled such a capital piece of revenge, Aunt +Milly; I have almost a mind to do it myself.' But Chriss's +mischief-loving nature—always a dangerous one—was quelled for the +moment by the look of quiet contempt with which Mildred took the +scissors from her hand.</p> + +<p>'I did not expect to find you such a baby at thirteen, Chriss.'</p> + +<p>Chriss blazed up in a moment, with a great deal of spluttering and +incoherence. 'Baby! I a baby! No one shall call me that again!' tossing +her head and elevating her chin in childlike disdain.</p> + +<p>'Quite right; I am glad you have formed such a wise determination, it +would have been babyish, Chriss,' wilfully misunderstanding her. 'None +but very wicked and spiteful babies would ever scheme to put another in +a rage. Do you know,' continued Mildred cheerfully, as she took up her +work, apparently regardless that Chrissy was eyeing her with the same +withering wrath, 'I always had a notion that Cain must have tried to put +Abel in a passion, and failed, before he killed him!'</p> + +<p>Chrissy recoiled a little.</p> + +<p>'Perhaps he wanted him to fight, as men and boys do now, you know, only +Abel's exceeding gentleness could not degenerate into such strife. To me +there is something diabolical in the idea of trying to make any one +angry. Certainly the weapons with which we do it are forged for us, +red-hot, and put into our hands by the evil one himself.'</p> + +<p>'Aunt Milly!' Chrissy's head was quiescent now, and her chin in its +normal position: the transition from anger to solemnity bewildered her. +Mildred went on in the same quiet tone.</p> + +<p>'You cannot love Cardie very much, when you are trying to make him +angry, can you, Chrissy?'</p> + +<p>'No—o—at least, I suppose not,' stammered Chriss, who had no want of +truth among her other faults.</p> + +<p>'Well, what is the opposite of loving?'</p> + +<p>'Hating. Oh, Aunt Milly, you can't think so badly of me as that! I don't +hate Cardie.'</p> + +<p>'God forbid, my child! You know what the Bible says—'He who hateth his +brother is a murderer.' But, Chrissy, does it ever strike you that Cain +could not always have been quite bad? He had a childhood too.'</p> + +<p>'I never thought of him but as quite grown up,' returned Chriss, with a +touch of stubbornness, arising from an uneasy and awakened conscience. +'How fond you are of Cain, Aunt Milly.'</p> + +<p>'He is my example, my warning beacon, you see. He was the first-begotten +of Envy, that eldest-born of Hell—a terrible incarnation of unresisted +human passion. Had he first learned to restrain the beginnings of evil, +it would not have overwhelmed him so completely. Possibly in their +young, hard-working life he would have loved to be able to make Abel +angry.'</p> + +<p>'Aunt Milly!' Chrissy was shedding a few indignant tears now.</p> + +<p>'Well, my dear?'</p> + +<p>'It is too bad. You have no right to compare me with Cain,' sobbing +vengefully.</p> + +<p>'Did I do so? Nay, Chriss, I think you are mistaken.'</p> + +<p>'First to be called a baby, and then a murderer!'</p> + +<p>'Hush! hush!'</p> + +<p>'I know I am wicked to try and make them angry, but they tease me so; +they call me Contradiction, and the Barker, and Pugilist Pug, and lots +of horrid names, and it was only like playing at war to get one's +revenge.'</p> + +<p>'Choose some fairer play, my little Chriss.'</p> + +<p>'It is such miserable work trying to be proper and good; I don't think +I've got the face for it either,' went on Chriss, a subtle spirit of fun +drying up her tears again, as she examined her features curiously in +Mildred's glass. 'I don't look as though I could be made good, do I, +Aunt Milly'—frowning fiercely at herself—'not like a young Christian?'</p> + +<p>'More like a long-haired kitten,' returned Mildred, quaintly.</p> + +<p>The epithet charmed Chriss into instant good-humour; for a moment she +looked half inclined to hug Mildred, but the effort was too great for +her shyness, so she contented herself with a look of appreciation. 'You +can say funny things then—how nice! I thought you were so dreadfully +solemn—worse than Cardie. Cardie could not say a funny thing to save +his life, except when he is angry, and then, oh! he is droll,' finished +incorrigible Chriss, as she followed her aunt downstairs, skipping three +steps at a time.</p> + +<p>Richard met them in the hall, and eyed the pseudo-invalid a little +dubiously.</p> + +<p>'So you are better, eh, Chriss? That's right. I thought there was not +much that ailed you after all,' in a tone rather amiable than unfeeling.</p> + +<p>'Not much to you, you mean. Perhaps you don't mind having a log in your +head,' began Chrissy, indignantly, but seeing visionary Cains in her +aunt's glance, she checked herself. 'If I am better it is all thanks to +Aunt Milly's nursing, but she spoilt everything at the last.'</p> + +<p>'Why?' asked Richard, curiously, detecting a lurking smile at the corner +of Mildred's mouth.</p> + +<p>'Why, I had concocted a nice little plan for riling you—putting you in +a towering passion, you know—by coming down looking like a singed pony, +or like Polly, in fact; but she would not let me, took the scissors +away, like the good aunt in a story-book.'</p> + +<p>'What nonsense is she talking, Aunt Milly? She looks very nice, though +quite different to Chrissy somehow.'</p> + +<p>'We have only shorn a little of the superabundant fleece,' returned +Mildred, wondering why she felt so anxious for Richard's approval, and +laughing at herself for being so.</p> + +<p>'But I wanted it to be clipped just so, half an inch long, like</p> + +<p>Jemmy Stokes, and offered to fetch Nan's best pudding-basin for the +purpose; but Aunt Milly would not hear of it. She said such dreadful +things, Cardie!' And as Richard looked at her, with puzzled benevolence +in his eyes, she raised herself on tiptoe and whispered into his ear, +'She said—at least she almost implied, but it is all the same, +Cardie—that if I did I should go on from bad to worse, and should +probably end by murdering you, as Cain did Abel.'</p> + +<p>The following day was Sunday, and Mildred, who for her own reasons had +not yet actively assumed the reins of government, had full leisure and +opportunity for studying the family ways at the vicarage. In one sense +it was certainly not a day of rest, for, with the exception of Roy and +Chrissy, the young people seemed more fully engrossed than on any other +day.</p> + +<p>Richard and Olive were both at the early service, and Mildred, who, as +usual, waited for her brother in the porch, was distressed to find Olive +still with her hat on, snatching a few mouthfuls of food at the +breakfast-table while she sorted a packet of reward cards.</p> + +<p>'My dear Olive, this is very wrong; you must sit down and make a proper +meal before going to the Sunday School.'</p> + +<p>'Indeed I have not a moment,' returned Olive, hurriedly, without looking +up. 'My class will be waiting for me. I have to go down to old Mrs. +Stevens about her grandchildren. I had no time last night. Richard +always makes the breakfast on Sunday morning.'</p> + +<p>'Yes,' returned Richard, in his most repressive tone, as he poured out a +cup of coffee and carried it round to Olive, and then cut her another +piece of bread and butter. 'I believe Livy would like to dispense with +her meals altogether or take them standing. I tell her she is +comfortless by nature. She would go without breakfast often if I did not +make a fuss about it. There you must stay till you have eaten that.' But +Mildred noticed, though his voice was decidedly cross, he had cut the +bread <i>ą la tartine</i> for his sister's greater convenience.</p> + +<p>Morning service was followed by the early dinner. Mr. Lambert, who was +without a curate, the last having left him from ill-health, was obliged +to accept such temporary assistance as he could procure from the +neighbouring parishes. To-day Mr. Heath, of Brough, had volunteered his +services, and accompanied the party back to the vicarage. Mildred, who +had hoped to hear her brother preach, was somewhat disappointed. She +thought Mr. Heath and his sermon very commonplace and uninteresting. +Ideas seemed wanting in both. The conversation during dinner turned +wholly on parish matters, and the heinous misdemeanours of two or three +ratepayers who had made a commotion at the last vestry meeting. The only +sentence that seemed worthy of attention was at the close of the meal, +just as the bell was ringing for the public catechising.</p> + +<p>'Where is Heriot? I have not set eyes on him yet!'</p> + +<p>Richard, who was just following Olive out of the room, paused with his +hand on the door to answer.</p> + +<p>'He has come back from Penrith. I met him by the Brewery after Church, +coming over from Hartly. He promised if he had time to look in after +service as usual.'</p> + +<p>Polly's eyes sparkled, and she almost danced up to Richard, 'Heriot! Is +that my Dr. Heriot?' with a decided stress on the possessive pronoun.</p> + +<p>'Oh, that's Heriot's ward, is it, Lambert? Humph, rather a queer affair, +isn't it, leaving that child to him? Heriot's a comparatively young man, +hardly five-and-thirty I should say,' and Mr. Heath's rosy face grew +preternaturally solemn.</p> + +<p>'Polly is our charge now,' returned Mr. Lambert, with one of his kind, +sad smiles, stretching out a hand to the girl. 'Mildred has promised to +look after her; and she will be Olive's and Chrissy's companion. You are +one of my little girls now, are you not, Polly?' Polly shook her head, +her face had lengthened a little over Mr. Lambert's words.</p> + +<p>'I like you, of course, and I like to be here. Aunt Milly is so nice, +and so is Roy; but I can only belong to my guardian.'</p> + +<p>'Hoity-toity, there will be some trouble here, Lambert. You must put +Heriot on his guard,' and Mr. Heath burst out laughing; Polly regarding +him the while with an air of offended dignity.</p> + +<p>'Did I say anything to make him laugh? there is nothing laughable in +speaking the truth. Papa gave me to my guardian, and of course that +means I belong to him.'</p> + +<p>'Never mind, Polly, let Mr. Heath laugh if he likes. We know how to +value such a faithful little friend—do we not, Mildred?'—and patting +her head gently, he bade her fetch him a book he had left on his study +table, and to Mildred's relief the conversation dropped, and Mr. Heath +shortly afterwards took his departure.</p> + +<p>Later on in the afternoon Mildred set out for a quiet walk to the +cemetery. Polly and Chriss were sunning themselves on the terrace, while +Roy was stretched in sleepy enjoyment on the grass at their feet, with +his straw hat pulled over his face. Richard had walked up to Kirkleatham +on business for his father. No one knew exactly what had become of +Olive.</p> + +<p>'She will turn up at tea-time, she always does,' suggested Roy, in a +tone of dreamy indifference. 'Go on, Polly, you have a sweet little +voice for reading as well as singing. We are reading Milton, Aunt Milly, +only Polly sometimes stops to spell the long words, which somehow breaks +the Miltonic wave of harmony. Can't you fancy I am Adam, and you are +Eve, Polly, and this is a little bit of Paradise—just that delicious +dip of green, with the trees and the water; and the milky mother of the +herd coming down to the river to drink; and the rich golden streak of +light behind Mallerstang? If it were not Sunday now,' and Roy's fingers +grasped an imaginary brush.</p> + +<p>'Roy and Polly seem to live in a Paradise of their own,' thought +Mildred, as she passed through the quiet streets. 'They have only known +each other for two days, and yet they are always together and share a +community of interest—they are both such bright, clever, affectionate +creatures. I wonder where Olive is, and whether she even knows what a +real idle hour of <i>dolce far niente</i> means. That girl must be taught +positively how to enjoy;' and Mildred pushed the heavy swinging cemetery +gates with a sigh, as she thought how joyless and weary seemed Olive's +life compared to that of the bright happy creature they had laid there. +Betha's nature was of the heartsease type; it seemed strange that the +mother had transmitted none of her sweet sunshiny happiness to her young +daughter; but here Mildred paused in her wonderings with a sudden start. +She was not alone as she supposed. She had reached a shady corner behind +the chapel, where there was a little plot of grass and an acacia tree; +and against the marble cross under which Betha Lambert's name was +written there sat, or rather leant—for the attitude was forlorn even in +its restfulness—a drooping, black figure easily recognised as Olive.</p> + +<p>'This is where she comes on Sunday afternoons; she keeps it a secret +from the others; none of them have discovered it,' thought Mildred, +grieved at having disturbed the girl's sacred privacy, and she was +quietly retracing her steps, when Olive suddenly raised her head from +the book she was reading. As their eyes met, there was a start and a +sudden rush of sensitive colour to the girl's face.</p> + +<p>'I did not know; I am so sorry to disturb you, my love,' began Mildred, +apologetically.</p> + +<p>'It does not disturb me—at least, not much,' was the truthful answer. +'I don't like the others to know I come here—because—oh, I have +reasons—but this is your first visit, Aunt Milly,' divining Mildred's +sympathy by some unerring instinct.</p> + +<p>'Yes—may I stay for a moment? thank you, my dear,' as Olive willingly +made room for her. 'How beautiful and simple; just the words she loved,' +and Mildred read the inscription and chosen text—'His banner over me is +love.'</p> + +<p>'Do you like it? Mamma chose it herself; she said it was so true of her +life.'</p> + +<p>'Happy Betha!' and in a lower voice, 'Happy Olive!'</p> + +<p>'Why, Aunt Milly?'</p> + +<p>'To have had such a mother, though it be only to lose her. Think of the +dear bright smiles with which she will welcome you all home.'</p> + +<p>Olive's eyes glistened, but she made no answer. Mildred was struck with +the quiet repose of her manner; the anxious careworn look had +disappeared for the time, and the soft intelligence of her face bore the +stamp of some lofty thought.</p> + +<p>'Do you always come here, Olive? At this time I mean.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, always—I have never missed once; it seems to rest me for the +week. Just at first, perhaps, it made me sad, but now it is different.'</p> + +<p>'How do you mean, my dear?'</p> + +<p>'I don't know that I can put it exactly in words,' she returned, +troubled by a want of definite expression. 'At first it used to make me +cry, and wish I were dead, but now I never feel so like living as when I +am here.'</p> + +<p>'Try to make me understand. I don't think you will find me +unsympathising,' in Mildred's tenderest tones.</p> + +<p>'You are never that, Aunt Milly. I find myself telling you things +already. Don't you see, I can come and pour out all my trouble to her, +just as I used to? and sometimes I fancy she answers me, not in +speaking, you know, but in the thoughts that come as I sit here.'</p> + +<p>'That is a beautiful fancy, Olive.'</p> + +<p>'Others might laugh at it—Cardie would, I know, but it is impossible to +believe mamma can help loving us wherever she is; and she always liked +us to come and tell her everything, when we were naughty, or if we had +anything nice happening to us.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, dear, I quite understand. But you were reading.'</p> + +<p>'That was mamma's favourite book. I generally read a few pages before I +go. One seems to understand it all so much better in this quiet place, +with the sun shining, and all those graves round. One's little troubles +seem so small and paltry by comparison.'</p> + +<p>Mildred did not answer. She took the book out of Olive's hand—it was +<i>Thomas ą Kempis</i>—and a red pencil line had marked the following +passage:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Thou shalt not long toil here, nor always be oppressed with griefs.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Wait a little while, and thou shalt see a speedy end of thy evils.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'There will come a time when all labour and trouble shall cease,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Poor and brief is all that passeth away with time.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Do [in earnest] what thou doest; labour faithfully in My vineyard: I will be thy recompense.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Write, read, chant, mourn, keep silence, pray, endure crosses manfully; life everlasting is worth all these conflicts, and greater than these.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Peace shall come in one day, which is known unto the Lord; and it shall not be day nor night (that is at this present time), but unceasing light, infinite brightness, stedfast peace, and secure rest.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>'Don't you like it?' whispered Olive, timidly; but Mildred still made no +answer. How she had wronged this girl! Under the ungainly form lay this +beautiful soul-coinage, fresh from God's mint, with His stamp of +innocence and divinity fresh on it, to be marred by a world's use or +abuse.</p> + +<p>Mildred's clear instinct had already detected unusual intelligence under +the clumsiness and awkward ways that were provocative of perpetual +censure in the family circle. The timidity that seemed to others a cloak +for mere coldness had not deceived her. But she was not prepared for +this faith that defied dead matter, and clung about the spirit footsteps +of the mother, bearing in the silence—that baffling silence to smaller +natures—the faint perceptive whispers of deathless love.</p> + +<p>'Olive, you have made me ashamed of my own doubts,' she said at last, +taking the girl's hand and looking on the unlovely face with feelings +akin to reverence. 'I see now, as I never have done before, how a +thorough understanding robs even death of its terror—how "perfect love +casteth out fear."'</p> + +<p>'If one could always feel as one does now,' sighed Olive, raising her +dark eyes with a new yearning in them. 'But the rest and the strength +seem to last for such a little time. Last Sunday,' she continued, sadly, +'I felt almost happy sitting here. Life seemed somehow sweet, after all, +but before evening I was utterly wretched.'</p> + +<p>'By your own fault, or by that of others?'</p> + +<p>'My own, of course. If I were not so provoking in my ways—Cardie, I +mean—the others would not be so hard on me. Thinking makes one absent, +and then mistakes happen.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, I see.' Mildred did not say more. She felt the time was not come +for dealing with the strange idiosyncrasies of a peculiar and difficult +character. She was ignorant as yet what special gifts or graces of +imagination lay under the comprehensive term of 'bookishness,' which had +led her to fear in Olive the typical bluestocking. But she was not wrong +in the supposition that Olive's very goodness bordered on faultiness; +over-conscientiousness, and morbid scrupulosity, producing a sort of +mental fatigue in the onlooker—restfulness being always more highly +prized by us poor mortals than any amount of struggling and perceptible +virtue.</p> + +<p>Mildred was a true diplomatist by nature—most womanly women are. It was +from no want of sympathy, but an exercise of real judgment, that she now +quietly concluded the conversation by the suggestion that they should go +home.</p> + +<p>Mildred had the satisfaction of hearing her brother preach that evening, +and, though some of the old fire and vigour were wanting, and there were +at times the languid utterances of failing strength, still it was +evident that, for the moment, sorrow was forgotten in the deep +earnestness of one who feels the immensity of the task before him—the +awful responsibility of the cure of souls.</p> + +<p>The text was, 'Why halt ye between two opinions?' and afforded a rich +scope for persuasive argument; and Mildred's attention never wavered but +once, when her eyes rested for a moment accidentally on Richard. He and +Roy, with some other younger members of the congregation, occupied the +choir-stalls, or rather the seats appropriated for the purpose, the real +choir-stalls being occupied by some of the neighbouring farmers and +their families—an abuse that Mr. Lambert had not yet been able to +rectify.</p> + +<p>Roy's sleepy blue eyes were half closed; but Richard's forehead was +deeply furrowed with the lines of intense thought, a heavy frown settled +over the brows, and the mouth was rigid; the immobility of feature and +fixed contraction of the pupils bespeaking some violent struggle within.</p> + +<p>The sunset clouds were just waning into pallor and blue-gray +indistinctness, with a lightning-like breadth of gold on the outermost +edges, when Mildred stepped out from the dark porch, with Polly hanging +on her arm.</p> + +<p>'Is that Jupiter or Venus, Aunt Milly?' she asked, pointing to the sky +above them. 'It looks large and grand enough for Jupiter; and oh, how +sweet the wet grass smells!'</p> + +<p>'You are right, my little astronomer,' said a voice close behind them. +'There is the king of planets in all his majesty. Miss Lambert, I hope +you recognise an old acquaintance as well as a new friend. Ah, Polly! +Faithful, though a woman! I see you have not forgotten me.' And Dr. +Heriot laughed a low amused laugh at feeling his disengaged hand grasped +by Polly's soft little fingers.</p> + +<p>The laugh nettled her.</p> + +<p>'No, I have not forgotten, though other people have, it seems,' she +returned, with a little dignity, and dropping his hand. 'Three whole +days, and you have never been to see us or bid us welcome! Do you wonder +Aunt Milly and I are offended?'</p> + +<p>Mildred coloured, but she had too much good sense to disclaim a share in +Polly's childish reproaches.</p> + +<p>'I will make my apology to Miss Lambert when she feels it is needed; at +present she might rather look upon it in the light of a liberty,' +observed Dr. Heriot, coolly. 'Country practitioners are not very +punctual in paying mere visits of ceremony. I hope you have recovered +from the fatigues of settling down in a new place, Miss Lambert?'</p> + +<p>Mildred smiled. 'It is a very bearable sort of fatigue. Polly and I +begin to look upon ourselves as old inhabitants. Novelty and strangeness +soon wear off.'</p> + +<p>'And you are happy, Polly?'—repossessing himself of the little hand, +and speaking in a changed voice, at once grave and gentle.</p> + +<p>'Very—at least, when I am not thinking of papa' (the last very softly). +'I like the vicarage, and I like Roy—oh, so much!—almost as much as +Aunt Milly.'</p> + +<p>'That is well'—with a benign look, that somehow included Mildred—'but +how about Mr. Lambert and Richard and Olive? I hope my ward does not +mean to be exclusive in her likings.'</p> + +<p>'Mr Lambert is good, but sad—so sad!' returned Polly, with a solemn +shake of her head. 'I try not to look at him; he makes me ache all over. +And Olive is dreadful; she has not a bit of life in her; and she has got +a stoop like the old woman before us in church.'</p> + +<p>'Some one would be the better for some of Olive's charity, I think,' +observed her guardian, laughing. 'You must take care of this little +piece of originality, Miss Lambert; it has a trifle too much keenness. +"The pungent grains of titillating dust," as Pope has it, perceptible in +your discourse, Polly, have a certain sharpness of flavour. So handsome +Dick is under the lash, eh?'</p> + +<p>Polly held her peace.</p> + +<p>'Come, I am curious to hear your opinion of Mentor the younger, as Rex +calls him.'</p> + +<p>'"Sternly he pronounced the rigid interdiction" <i>vide</i> Milton. Don't go +away, Dick; it will be wholesome discipline on the score of listeners +hearing no good of themselves.'</p> + +<p>'What, are you behind us, lads? Polly's discernment was not at fault, +then.'</p> + +<p>'It was not that,' she returned, indifferently. 'Richard knows I think +him cross and disagreeable. He and Chrissy put me in mind sometimes of +the Pharisees and Sadducees.'</p> + +<p>The rest laughed; but her guardian ejaculated, half-seriously, 'Defend +me from such a Polly!'</p> + +<p>'Well, am I not right?' she continued, pouting. 'Chrissy never believes +anything, and Richard is always measuring out rules for himself and +other people. You know you are tiresome sometimes,' she continued, +facing round on Richard, to the great amusement of the others; but the +rigid face hardly relaxed into a smile. He was in no mood for amusement +to-night.</p> + +<p>'Come, I won't have fault found with our young Mentor. I am afraid my +ward is a little contumacious, Miss Lambert,' turning to her, as she +stood with the little group outside the vicarage.</p> + +<p>'I don't understand your long words; but I see you are all laughing at +me,' returned Polly, in a tone of such pique that Dr. Heriot very wisely +changed the conversation.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h3>A MOTHER IN ISRAEL</h3> + +<blockquote><p>'Of marvellous gentleness she was unto all folk, but specially +unto her own, whom she trusted and loved right tenderly. Unkind +she would not be unto no creature, nor forgetful of any +kindness or service done to her before, which is no little part +of nobleness.... Merciful also and piteous she was unto such as +was grieved and troubled, and to them that were in poverty or +sickness, or any other trouble.'—<span class="smcap">Fisher</span>, Bishop of Rochester.</p></blockquote> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>Mildred was not slow in perceiving that Dr. Heriot had imported a new +element of cheerfulness into the family circle; they were all seated +cosily round the supper-table when she came downstairs. Olive, who had +probably received some hint to that effect, had placed herself between +her father and Richard.</p> + +<p>Mildred looked at the vacant place at the head of the table a little +dubiously.</p> + +<p>'Never hesitate in claiming abrogated authority,' observed Dr. Heriot, +gravely, as he placed the chair for her.</p> + +<p>Mildred gave him a puzzled glance: 'Does my brother—does Olive wish +it?'</p> + +<p>'Can you doubt it?' he returned, reproachfully. 'Have you not found out +how wearily those young shoulders bear the weight of any +responsibility!' with a pitying glance in Olive's direction, which +seemed hardly needed, for she looked brighter than usual. 'Give them +time to gain strength, and she will thank you for the mercy shown her. +To-night she will eat her supper with some degree of enjoyment, now this +joint is off her mind,' and, quietly appropriating the carving-knife, he +was soon engaged in satisfying the young and healthy appetites round +him; while answering at the same time the numerous questions Roy and +Chrissy were pleased to put to him.</p> + +<p>Dr. Heriot, or Dr. John, as they called him, seemed the family referee. +A great stress was laid on the three days' absence, which it was averred +had accumulated a mass of plans to be decided.</p> + +<p>Richard wanted to consult him about the mare. Mr. Lambert had some +lengthy document from the Bounty Office to show him. Chrissy begged for +an invitation for herself and Polly for the following evening, and Olive +pleaded to be allowed to come too, as she wanted to refer to some books +in his library.</p> + +<p>Polly looked from one to the other only half-pleased with all this +familiarity. 'He might be every one's guardian,' she remarked <i>sotto +voce</i> to Roy; but Dr. Heriot soon found means to allay the childish +jealousy, which he was quick enough to perceive.</p> + +<p>Mildred thought he looked younger and happier to-night, with all those +young aspirants for his notice pressing round him. She was startled to +hear a soft laugh from Olive once, though it was checked immediately, as +though duty put a force on inclination.</p> + +<p>Mr. Lambert retired to his study after supper, and Olive, at Dr. +Heriot's request, went to the piano. Mildred had heard she had no taste +for music; but to her surprise she played some hymns with accuracy and +feeling, the others joining in as they pleased. Richard pleaded fatigue +and a headache, and sat in the farthest corner, looking over the dark +fells, and shading his eyes from the lamplight; but Dr. Heriot sang in a +rich, full voice, Polly sitting at his feet and sharing his hymn-book, +while Chrissy looked over his shoulder. Mildred was enjoying the +harmony, and wondering over Roy's beautiful tenor, when she was startled +to see him turn suddenly very pale, and leave off singing; and a moment +afterwards, as though unable to contain himself, he abruptly left the +room.</p> + +<p>Olive glanced uneasily round, and then, under cover of the singing, +whispered to Mildred—</p> + +<p>'I forgot. Oh, how careless!—how wrong of me! Aunt Milly, will you +please go after him?'</p> + +<p>Mildred obeyed. She found him leaning against the open garden +door—white, and almost gasping.</p> + +<p>'My dear boy, you are ill. Shall I call Dr. Heriot to you?' but he shook +his head impatiently.</p> + +<p>'Nonsense—I am all right; at least, I shall be in a moment. Don't stay, +Aunt Milly. I would not have Cardie see me for worlds; he would be +blaming Olive, and I know she forgot.'</p> + +<p>'The hymn we were singing, do you mean?'</p> + +<p>'Yes; she—mamma—was so fond of it. We used to have it every night in +her room. She asked for it almost at the last. <i>Sun of my soul;</i> the +hymn of hymns, she called it. It was just like Livy to forget. I can +stand any but that one—it beats me. Ah, Aunt Milly!' his boyish tones +suddenly breaking beyond control.</p> + +<p>'Dear Rex, don't mind; these feelings do you honour. I love you the +better for them;' pressing the fair head tenderly to her shoulder, as +she had done Chrissy's. She was half afraid he might resent the action, +but for the moment his manhood was helpless.</p> + +<p>'That is just what she used to do,' he said, with a half sob. 'You +remind me of her somehow, Aunt Milly. There's some one coming after us. +Please—please let me go,'—the petulant dignity of seventeen years +asserting itself again,—but he seemed still so white and shaken that +she ventured to detain him.</p> + +<p>'Roy, dear, it is only Olive. There is nothing of which to be ashamed.'</p> + +<p>'Livy, oh, I don't mind her. I thought it was Dick or Heriot. Livy, how +could you play that thing when you know—you know——' but the rest of +the speech was choked somehow.</p> + +<p>'Oh, Rex, I am so sorry.'</p> + +<p>'Well, never mind; it can't be helped now. Only Aunt Milly has seen me +make an ass of myself.'</p> + +<p>'You are too good to scold me, Rex, I know, but I am grieved—I am +indeed. I am so fond of that hymn for her sake, that I always play it to +myself; and I forgot you could not bear it,' continued poor Olive, +humbly.</p> + +<p>'All right; you need not cover yourself with dust and ashes,' +interrupted Roy, with a nervous laugh. 'Ah, confound it, there's +Richard! What a fellow he is for turning up at the wrong time. +Good-night, Livy,' he continued, with a pretence at cheerfulness; 'the +dews are unwholesome. Pleasant dreams and sweet repose;' but Olive still +lingered, regardless of Roy's good-humoured attempts to save an +additional scolding.</p> + +<p>'Well, what's all this about?' demanded Richard, abruptly.</p> + +<p>'It is my fault, as usual, Cardie,' returned Olive, courting her fate +with clumsy bravery. 'I upset him by playing that hymn. Of course I +ought to have remembered.'</p> + +<p>'Culprit, plaintiff, defendant, and judge in one,' groaned Roy. 'Spare +us the rest, Dick, and prove to our young minds that honesty is the best +policy.'</p> + +<p>But Richard's brow-grew dark. 'This is the second time it has happened; +it is too bad, Olive. Not content with harassing us from morning to +night with your shiftless, unwomanly ways, you must make a blunder like +this. One's most sacred feelings trampled on mercilessly,—it is +unpardonable.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, draw it mild, Dick;' but Roy's lip still quivered; his sensitive +nature had evidently received a shock.</p> + +<p>'You are too good-natured, Rex. Such cruel heedlessness deserves +reproof, but it is all lost on Livy; she will never understand how we +feel about these things.'</p> + +<p>'Indeed, Cardie——' but Richard sternly checked her.</p> + +<p>'There is no use in saying anything more about it. If you are so devoid +of tact and feeling, you can at least have the grace to be ashamed of +yourself. Come, Roy, a turn in the air will do you good; my head still +aches badly. Let us go down over Hillsbottom for a stroll;' and Richard +laid his hand persuasively on Roy's shoulder.</p> + +<p>Roy shook off his depression with an effort. Mildred fancied his +brother's well-meant attempt at consolation jarred on him; but he was of +too easy a nature to contend against a stronger will; he hesitated a +moment, however.</p> + +<p>'We have not said good-night to Livy.'</p> + +<p>'Be quick about it, then,' returned Richard, turning on his heel; then +remembering himself, 'Good-night, Aunt Milly. I suppose we shall not see +you on our return?' but he took no notice of Olive, though she mutely +offered her cheek as he passed.</p> + +<p>'My dear, you will take cold, standing out here with uncovered head,' +Mildred said, passing her arm gently through the girl's to draw her to +the house; but Olive shook her head, and remained rooted to the spot.</p> + +<p>'He never bade me good-night,' she said at last, and then a large tear +rolled slowly down her lace.</p> + +<p>'Do you mean Richard? He is not himself to-night; something is troubling +him, I am sure.' But Mildred felt a little indignation rising, as she +thought of her nephew's hardness.</p> + +<p>'Rex kissed me, though; and he was the one I hurt. Rex is never hard and +unkind. Oh, Aunt Milly, I think Cardie begins to dislike me;' the tears +falling faster over her pale cheeks.</p> + +<p>'My dear Olive, this is only one of your morbid fancies. It is wrong to +say such things—wrong to Richard.'</p> + +<p>'Why should I not say what I think? There, do you see them'—pointing to +a strip of moonlight beyond the bridge—'he has his arm round Roy, and +is talking to him gently. I know his way; he can be, oh so gentle when +he likes. He is only hard to me; he is kinder even to Chrissy, who +teases him from morning to night; and I do not deserve it, because I +love him so;' burying her face in her hands, and weeping convulsively, +as no one had ever seen Olive weep before.</p> + +<p>'Hush, dear—hush; you are tired and overstrained with the long day's +work, or you would not fret so over an impatient word. Richard does not +mean to be unkind, but he is domineering by nature, and——'</p> + +<p>'No, Aunt Milly, not domineering,' striving to speak between her sobs; +'he thinks so little of himself, and so much of others. He is vexed +about Roy's being upset; he is so fond of Roy.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, but he has no right to misunderstand his sister so completely.'</p> + +<p>'I don't think I am the right sort of sister for him, Aunt Milly. Polly +would suit him better: she is so bright and winning; and then he cares +so much about looks.'</p> + +<p>'Nonsense, Olive: men don't think if their sisters have beauty or not. I +mean it does not make any difference in their affection.'</p> + +<p>'Ah, it does with Cardie. He thinks Chriss will be pretty, and so he +takes more notice of her. He said once it was very hard for a man not to +be proud of his sisters; he meant me, I know. He is always finding fault +with my hair and my dress, and telling me no woman need be absolutely +ugly unless she likes.'</p> + +<p>'I can see a gleam in the clouds now. We will please our young +taskmaster before we have done.'</p> + +<p>Olive smiled faintly, but the tears still came. It was true: she was +worn in body and mind. In this state tears are a needful luxury, as +Mildred well knew.</p> + +<p>'It is not this I mind. Of course one would be beautiful if one could; +but I should think it paltry to care,' speaking with mingled simplicity +and resignation.</p> + +<p>'Mamma told us not to trouble about such things, as it would all be made +up to us one day. What I really mind is his thinking I do not share his +and Roy's feelings about things.'</p> + +<p>'People have different modes of expressing them. You could play that +hymn, you see.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, and love to do it. When Roy left the room I had forgotten +everything. I thought mamma was singing it with us, and it seemed so +beautiful.'</p> + +<p>'Richard would call that visionary.'</p> + +<p>'He would never know;' her voice dropping again into its hopeless key. +'He thinks I am too cold to care much even about that; he does indeed, +Aunt Milly:' as Mildred, shocked and distressed, strove to hush her. +'Not that I blame him, because Roy thinks the same. I never talk to any +of them as I have done to you these two days.'</p> + +<p>'Then we have something tangible on which to lay the blame. You are too +reserved with your brothers, Olive. You do not let them see how much you +feel about things.' She winced.</p> + +<p>'No, I could not bear to be repulsed. I would rather—much rather—be +thought cold, than laughed at for a visionary. Would not you, Aunt +Milly? It hurts less, I think.'</p> + +<p>'And you can hug yourself in the belief that no one has discovered the +real Olive. You can shut yourself up in your citadel, while they batter +at the outworks. My poor girl, why need you shroud yourself, as though +your heart, a loving one, Olive, had some hidden deformity? If Richard +had my eyes, he would think differently.'</p> + +<p>Olive shook her head.</p> + +<p>'My child, you depreciate yourself too much. We have no right to look +down on any piece of God's handiwork. Separate yourself from your +faults. Your poor soul suffers for want of cherishing. It does not +deserve such harsh treatment. Why not respect yourself as one whom God +intends to make like unto the angels?'</p> + +<p>'Aunt Milly, no one has said such things to me before.'</p> + +<p>'Well, dear!'</p> + +<p>'It is beautiful—the idea, I mean—it seems to heal the sore place.'</p> + +<p>'I meant it to do so. It is not more beautiful than the filial love that +can find rest by a mother's grave. Cardie would never think of doing +that. When his paroxysms of pain come on him, he vents himself in long +solitary walks, or shuts himself up in his room.'</p> + +<p>'Aunt Milly, how did you know that? who told you?'</p> + +<p>'My own intuition,' returned Mildred, smiling. 'Come, child, it is long +past ten. I wonder what Polly and Dr. Heriot have been doing with +themselves all this time. Go to sleep and forget all about these +troubles;' and Mildred kissed the tear-stained face tenderly as she +spoke.</p> + +<p>She found Dr. Heriot alone when she entered the drawing-room. He looked +up at her rather strangely, she thought. Could he have overheard any of +their conversation?</p> + +<p>'I was just coming out to warn you of imprudence,' he said, rising and +offering her his chair. 'Sit there and rest yourself a little. Do +mothers in Israel generally have such tired faces?' regarding her with a +grave, inscrutable smile.</p> + +<p>He had heard then. Mildred could not help the rising colour that +testified to her annoyance.</p> + +<p>'Forgive me,' he returned, leaning over the back of her chair, and +speaking with the utmost gentleness. 'I did not mean to annoy you, far +from it. Your voices just underneath the window reached me occasionally, +and I only heard enough to——'</p> + +<p>'Well, Dr. Heriot?'</p> + +<p>Mildred sat absolutely on thorns.</p> + +<p>'To justify the name I just called you. I cannot help it, Miss Lambert, +you so thoroughly deserve it.'</p> + +<p>Mildred grew scarlet.</p> + +<p>'You ought to have given us a hint. Olive had no idea, neither had I. I +thought—we thought, you were talking to the girls.'</p> + +<p>'So I was; but I sent them away long ago. My dear Miss Lambert, I +believe you are accusing me in your heart of listening,' elevating his +eyebrows slightly, as though the idea was absurd. 'Pray dismiss such a +notion from your mind. I was in a brown study, and thinking of my +favourite Richard, when poor Olive's sobs roused me.'</p> + +<p>'Richard your favourite!'</p> + +<p>'Yes, is he not yours?' with an inquisitive glance. 'All Dick's faults, +glaring as they are, could not hide his real excellence from such +observing eyes.'</p> + +<p>'He interests me,' she returned, reluctantly; 'but they all do that of +course.' Somehow she was loath to confess to a secret predilection in +Richard's favour. 'He does not deserve me to speak well of him +to-night,' she continued, with her usual candour.</p> + +<p>Dr. Heriot looked surprised.</p> + +<p>'He has been captious and sharp with Olive again, I suppose. I love to +see a woman side with her sex. Well, do you know, if I were Richard, +Olive would provoke me.'</p> + +<p>'Possibly,' was Mildred's cool reply, for the remembrance of the sad +tear-stained face made any criticism on Olive peculiarly unpalatable at +that moment.</p> + +<p>Dr. Heriot was quick to read the feeling.</p> + +<p>'Don't be afraid, Miss Lambert. I don't mean to say a word against your +adopted daughter, only to express my thankfulness that she has fallen +into such tender hands,' and for a moment he looked at the slim, +finely-shaped hands lying folded in Mildred's lap, and which were her +chief beauty. 'I only want you to be lenient in your judgment of +Richard, for in his present state she tries him sorely.'</p> + +<p>'One can see he is very unhappy.'</p> + +<p>'People are who create a Doubting Castle for themselves, and carry Giant +Despair, as a sort of old man of the mountains, on their shoulders,' he +returned, drily. '"The perfect woman nobly planned" is rather an +inconvenient sort of burden too. Well, it is growing late, and I must go +and look after those boys.'</p> + +<p>'Wait a minute, Dr. Heriot. You know his trouble, perhaps?'</p> + +<p>He nodded.</p> + +<p>'Troubles, you mean. They are threefold, at least, poor Cardie! Very few +youths of nineteen know how to arrange their life, or to like other +people to arrange it for them.'</p> + +<p>'I want to ask you something; you know them all so well. Do you think I +shall ever win his confidence?'</p> + +<p>'You,' looking at her kindly; 'no one deserves it more, of course; +but——' pausing in some perplexity.</p> + +<p>'You hesitate.'</p> + +<p>'Well, Cardie is peculiar. His mother was his sole confidant, and, when +he lost her, I verily believe the poor fellow was as near heart-break as +possible. I have got into his good graces lately, and now and then he +lets off the steam; but not often. He is a great deal up at Kirkleatham +House; but I doubt the wisdom of an adviser so young and fair as Miss +Trelawny.'</p> + +<p>'Miss Trelawny! Who is she?'</p> + +<p>'What, have you not heard of "Ethel the Magnificent"? The neighbourhood +reports that Richard and I have both lost our hearts to her, and are +rivals. Only believe half you hear in Kirkby Stephen, Miss Lambert.' But +Richard is only nineteen.'</p> + +<p>'True; and I was accused of wearing her hair in a locket at my +watch-guard. Miss Trelawny's hair is light brown, and this is bright +auburn. I don't trouble myself to inform people that I may possibly be +wearing my mother's hair.'</p> + +<p>'Then you don't think my task will be easy?' asked Mildred, ignoring the +bitterness with which he had spoken.</p> + +<p>'What task—that of winning Cardie's confidence? I hope you don't mean +to be an anxious mother, and grow gray before your time.' Then, as +though touched by Mildred's yearning look, 'I wish I could promise you +would have no difficulty; but facts are stubborn things. Richard is +close and somewhat impracticable; but as you seem an adept in winning, +you may soften down his ruggedness sooner than we expect. Come, is that +vaguely encouraging?'</p> + +<p>One of Mildred's quaint smiles flitted over her face as she answered—</p> + +<p>'Not very; but I mean to try, however. If I am to succeed I must give +Miss Trelawny a wide berth.'</p> + +<p>'Why so I' looking at her in surprise.</p> + +<p>'If your hint be true, Richard's mannishness would never brook feminine +interference.'</p> + +<p>Dr. Heriot laughed.</p> + +<p>'I was hardly prepared for such feminine sagacity. You are a wise woman, +Miss Lambert. If you go on like this, we shall all be afraid of you. The +specimen is rare enough in these parts, I assure you. Well, good-night.'</p> + +<p>It was with mingled feelings that Mildred retired to rest that night. +The events of the day, with its jarring interests and disturbed harmony, +had given her deep insight into the young lives around her.</p> + +<p>Three days!—she felt as though she had been three months among them. +She was thankful that Olive's confidence seemed already won—thankful +and touched to the heart; and though her conversation with Dr. Heriot +had a little damped her with regard to Richard, hers was the sort of +courage that gains strength with obstacles; and, before she slept that +night, the fond prayer rose to her lips, that Betha's sons might find a +friend in her.</p> + +<p>She woke the next morning with a consciousness that duty lay ready to +hand, opening out before her as the dawn brightened into day. On her way +downstairs she came upon Olive, looking heavy-eyed and unrefreshed, as +though from insufficient sleep. She was hunting among her father's +papers for a book she had mislaid.</p> + +<p>'Have you seen it, Aunt Milly?'</p> + +<p>'Do you mean this?' holding out a dilapidated <i>Wilhelm Tell</i> for her +inspection. 'I picked it up in the court, and placed it on the shelf for +safety. Wait a moment, dear,' as Olive was rushing away, 'I want to +speak to you. Was it by yours or your father's wish that you gave up +your seat at supper to me?'</p> + +<p>'Oh, it was Dr. John—at least—I mean I would much rather you always +had it, Aunt Milly,' returned Olive, in her usual incoherent fashion. +'Please, do take it; it was such a load off my mind to see you sitting +there.'</p> + +<p>'But, my dear,' remonstrated Mildred; but Olive interrupted her with +unusual eagerness.</p> + +<p>'Oh, you must; you look so much nicer; and I hate it so. Dr. John +arranged it all, and papa said "Yes," as he always does. He put it so +kindly, that one could not mind; he told papa that with my +disposition—timidity he meant, and absence of mind—it would be better +for everybody's comfort if you assumed the entire management of +everything at once; and that it would be better for me to learn from you +for a few years, until you had made me a capable woman. Cardie heard +him, I know; for he gave quite a sigh of relief.'</p> + +<p>'Perhaps they are right; but it seems strange for Dr. Heriot to +interfere in such a matter,' returned Mildred, in a puzzled tone.</p> + +<p>'Oh, Dr. John always settles things; nobody calls it interference from +him,' explained Olive, in her simple matter-of-fact way. 'It is such a +relief to be told what to do. Papa only thanked him, and begged me to +put myself entirely under your direction. You are to have the keys, and +I am to show you the store cupboards and places, and to introduce you to +Nan. We are afraid you will find her a little troublesome at first, Aunt +Milly;' but Mildred only smiled, and assured her she was not afraid of +Nan, and as the bells were ringing the brief colloquy ceased.</p> + +<p>Mildred was quite aware Dr. Heriot was in church, as his fine voice was +distinctly audible, leading the responses. To her surprise he joined +them after service, and without waiting for an invitation, announced his +intention of breakfasting with them.</p> + +<p>'Nan's rolls are especially tempting on Monday morning,' he observed, +coolly; 'but to-day that is not my inducement. Is teaching one's ward +the catechism included in the category of a guardian's duty, Miss +Lambert?'</p> + +<p>'I was not aware that such was the case,' returned Mildred, laughing. +'Do you mean to teach Polly hers?'</p> + +<p>Polly drew herself up affronted.</p> + +<p>'I am not a little girl; I am fourteen.'</p> + +<p>'What a great age, and what a literal Polly!' taking her hands, and +looking at her with an amused twinkle in his eyes. 'Last night you +certainly looked nothing but a good little girl, singing hymns at my +feet; but to-day you are bridling like a young princess; you are as fond +of transformation as Proteus.'</p> + +<p>'Who is Proteus?'</p> + +<p>'A sea-god—but there is your breakfast; the catechism must wait till +afterwards. I mean to introduce you to Mrs. Cranford in proper style. +Miss Lambert, is your coffee always so good? I trust not, or my presence +may prove harassing at the breakfast-table.'</p> + +<p>'It is excellent, Aunt Milly:' the last from Richard.</p> + +<p>Mildred hoped the tone of hearty commendation would not reach Olive's +ear, as her German grammar lay by her plate as usual; but she only +looked up and nodded pleasantly.</p> + +<p>'I never could make coffee nicely; you must teach me, Aunt Milly,' and +dropped her eyes on her book again.</p> + +<p>'No paltry jealousy there,' thought Mildred; and she sat behind her urn +well pleased, for even Arnold had roused himself once to ask for his cup +to be replenished. Mildred had been called away on some household +business, and on her return she found Dr. Heriot alone, reading the +paper. He put it down as she entered.</p> + +<p>'Well, is Nan formidable?'</p> + +<p>'Her dialect is,' returned Mildred, smiling; 'I am afraid she looks upon +me in the light of an interloper. I hope she does not always mean to +call me "t'maister's sister."'</p> + +<p>'Probably. Nan has her idiosyncrasies, but they are rather puzzling than +dangerous; she is a type of the old Daleswoman, sturdy, independent, and +sharp-tongued; but she is a good creature in the main, though a little +contemptuous on "women-foaks." I believe Dick is her special favourite, +though she told him once "he's niver off a grummle, and that she was +fair stot t' deeth wi't sound on't," if you know what that means.'</p> + +<p>Mildred shook her head.</p> + +<p>'You must not expect too much respect to a southerner at first. I did +battle on your behalf before you came, Miss Lambert, and got terribly +worsted. "Bless me, weel, Doctor!" says Nan, "what's the matter that +t'maister's sister come here? I can do verra weel by messel', and Miss +Olive can fend for hersel'; it's nought but daftness, but it's ne'er my +business; if they please themselves they please me. I must bide +t'bitterment."'</p> + +<p>Mildred gave one of her quiet laughs.</p> + +<p>'Nan and I will be great friends soon; we must learn to respect each +other's prejudices. Poor Olive had not a chance of putting in a word. +Nan treated her as though she were a mere infant.'</p> + +<p>'She has known her ever since she was one, you see, Miss Lambert. I have +been putting Polly through her paces, and find she has plenty to learn +and unlearn.'</p> + +<p>'I suppose she has been tolerably well educated?'</p> + +<p>'Pretty fairly, but after a desultory fashion. I fancy she has picked up +knowledge somehow, as a bird picks up crumbs; her French accent is +perfect, and she knows a little German. She is mostly deficient in +English. I must have a long talk with Mrs. Cranford.'</p> + +<p>'I understood Polly was to take lessons from her?'</p> + +<p>'You must take an early opportunity of making her acquaintance; she is +truly excellent; the girls are fortunate in having such an instructress. +Do you know, Chrissy is already a fair Latin scholar.'</p> + +<p>'Chrissy! you mean Olive, surely?'</p> + +<p>'No, Chriss is the bluestocking—does Euclid with the boys, and already +develops a taste for mathematics. Mr. Lambert used to direct her severer +studies. I believe Richard does it now. Olive's talents lie in quite +another direction.'</p> + +<p>'I am anxious to know—is she really clever?' asked Mildred, astonished +at this piece of information.</p> + +<p>'I believe she is tolerably well read for a girl of her age, and is +especially fond of languages—the modern ones I mean—though her father +has taught her Latin. I have always thought myself, that under that +timid and lethargic exterior there is a vast amount of imaginative +force—certain turns of speech in her happier moments prove it to me. I +should not be surprised if we live to discover she has genius.'</p> + +<p>'I am convinced that hers is no ordinary mind,' returned Mildred, +seriously; 'but her goodness somehow pains one.'</p> + +<p>Dr. Heriot laughed.</p> + +<p>'Have you ever heard Roy's addition to the table of weights and +measures, "How many scruples make an olive?" he asked. 'My dear Miss +Lambert, that girl is a walking conscience; she has the sort of mind +that adds, subtracts, divides, and multiplies duties, till the +grasshopper becomes a burden; she is one of the most thoroughly +uncomfortable Christians I ever knew. It is a disease,' he continued, +more gravely, 'a form of internal and spiritual hyperclimacteric, and +must be treated as such.'</p> + +<p>'I wish she were more like your ward,' replied Mildred, anxiously; +'Polly is so healthy and girlish—she lives too much to have time for +always probing her feelings.'</p> + +<p>'You are right,' was the answer. 'Polly is just the happy medium, +neither too clever nor too stupid—a loving-hearted child, who will one +of these days develop into a loving-hearted woman. Is she not delicious +with her boyish head and piquante face—pretty too, don't you think so?' +And as the sound of the girls' voices reached them at this moment, Dr. +Heriot rose, and a few minutes afterwards Mildred saw him cross the +court, with Polly and Chrissy hanging on each arm.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h3>'ETHEL THE MAGNIFICENT'</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'A maid of grace and complete majesty.'<br /></span> +</div></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>Later on in the morning Mildred was passing by the door of her brother's +study, when she heard his voice calling to her. He was sitting in his +usual chair, with his back to the light, reading, but he laid down his +book directly.</p> + +<p>'Are you busy, Mildred?'</p> + +<p>'Not if you want me,' she returned, brightly. 'I was just thinking I had +hardly spoken to you to-day.'</p> + +<p>'The same thought was lying heavy on my conscience. Heriot tells me you +are looking better already. I hope you are beginning to feel at home +with us, my dear.'</p> + +<p>'With you, Arnold—do you need to ask?' Mildred returned, reproachfully. +But the tears started to her eyes.</p> + +<p>'And the children are good to you?' he continued, a little anxiously.</p> + +<p>'They are everything I can wish. Cardie is most thoughtful for my +comfort, and Olive is fast losing her shyness. The only thing I regret +is that I manage to see so little of you, Arnold.'</p> + +<p>He patted her hand gently. 'It is better so, my dear. I am poor company, +I fear, and have grown into strangely unsociable ways. They are good +children; but you must not let them spoil me, Mildred. Sometimes I think +I ought to rouse myself more for their sakes.'</p> + +<p>'Indeed, Arnold, their conduct is most exemplary. Neither Cardie nor Roy +ever seem to let you go out alone.'</p> + +<p>'Ay, ay,' he muttered; 'his mother was right. The lad is beyond his +years, and has a wise head on young shoulders. Heriot tells me I must be +looking out for a curate. I had some notion of waiting for Richard, but +he will have it the work is beyond me.'</p> + +<p>Mildred was silent. She thought any work, however exhausting, was better +than the long lonely hours passed in the study—hours during which his +children were denied admittance, and for which all Richard's mannishness +was not allowed to find a remedy; and yet, as she looked at the wan, +thin face, and weary stoop of the figure, might it not be that Dr. +Heriot was right?</p> + +<p>'Heriot has heard of some one at Durham who is likely to suit me, he +thinks; he wants me to have him down. By the bye, Mildred, how do you +get on with Heriot?'</p> + +<p>'He is very nice,' she returned, vaguely, rather taken aback by the +suddenness of the question. 'Such a general favourite could not fail to +please,' she continued, a little mischievously.</p> + +<p>'Ah, you are laughing at us. Well, Heriot is our weak point, I confess. +Cardie is not given to raptures, but he has not a word to say against +him, and Trelawny is always having him up at Kirkleatham. Kirkby Stephen +could not do without Heriot now.'</p> + +<p>'He is clever in his profession, then?'</p> + +<p>'Very. And then so thoroughly unselfish; he would go twenty miles to do +any one a service, and take as much pains to hide it afterwards. I shall +be disappointed, indeed Mildred, if you and he do not become good +friends.'</p> + +<p>'Dear Arnold, he is a perfect stranger to me yet. I like him quite well +enough to wish to see more of him. There seems some mystery about him,' +she continued, hesitating; for Mildred, honest and straightforward by +nature, was a foe to all mysteries.</p> + +<p>'Only the mystery of a disappointed life. He has no secrets with us—he +never had. We knew him when we lived at Lambeth, and even then his story +was well known to us.'</p> + +<p>'Betha told me he had given up a large West End practice in consequence +of severe domestic trouble. She hinted once that he had a bad wife.'</p> + +<p>'She was hardly deserving of the name. I have heard that she was nine +years older than he, and a great beauty; a woman, too, of marvellous +fascination, and gifted beyond the generality of her sex, and that he +was madly in love when he married her.'</p> + +<p>'Perhaps the love was only on his side?'</p> + +<p>'Alas! yes. He found out, when it was too late, that she had accepted +him out of pique, and that his rival was living. The very first days of +their union were embittered by the discovery that jealousy had forged +these life-long fetters for them, and that already remorse was driving +his unhappy bride almost frantic. Can you conceive the torment for poor +Heriot? He could not set her free, though he loved her so that he would +willingly have laid down his life to give her peace. She had no mother +living, or he would have sent her away when he saw how distasteful his +presence was to her; but, though she had murdered his happiness as well +as her own, he was bound to be her protector.'</p> + +<p>'He was right,' returned Mildred, in a low voice.</p> + +<p>'Ay, and he acted nobly. Instead of overwhelming her with reproaches +that could have done no good, or crushing her still more with his +coldness, he forgave her, and set himself to win the heart that proved +itself so unworthy of his forbearance. Any other husband would have +thought himself injured beyond reparation, but not so Heriot. He hid his +wretchedness, and by every means in his power tried to lighten the +burden of his domestic misery.'</p> + +<p>'But people must have seen it?'</p> + +<p>'Not through his complaint, for he ever honoured her. I have been told +by those who knew him at the time, that his conduct to her was +blameless, and that they marvelled at the gentleness with which he bore +her wayward fits. After the birth of their only child there was an +interval of comparative comfort; in her weakness there was a glimmering +of compassion for the man she had injured, and who was the father of her +boy. Heriot was touched by the unusual kindness of her manner; there +were even tears in her eyes when he took the little creature in his arms +and noticed the long eyelashes, so like his mother's.'</p> + +<p>'But the child died?'</p> + +<p>'Yes—"the little peacemaker," as Heriot fondly called it. But certainly +all peace was buried in its little grave; for it was during the months +that followed her child's loss that Margaret Heriot developed that +unwholesome craving for stimulants which afterwards grew to absolute +disease, and which was to wear out her husband's patience into slow +disgust and then into utter weariness of life.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, Arnold, I never suspected this!'</p> + +<p>'It was just then we made his acquaintance, and, as a priest, he sought +my help and counsel in ministering to what was indeed a diseased mind; +but, poor misguided woman! she would not see me. In her better moments +she would cling to Heriot, and beg him to save her from the demon that +seemed to possess her. She even knelt and asked his forgiveness once; +but no remedy that he could recommend could be effectual in the case of +one who had never been taught to deny herself a moment's gratification. +I shudder to think of the scenes to which she subjected him, of the +daily torture and uncertainty in which he lived: his was the mockery of +a home. Her softer feelings had in time turned to hate; she never spoke +to him at last but to reproach him with being the cause of her misery.'</p> + +<p>'Then it was this that induced him to give up his London practice?'</p> + +<p>'Yes. It was a strange act of his; but I verily believe the man was +broken-hearted. He had grown to loathe his life, and the spectacle of +her daily degradation made him anxious to shake off friends and old +belongings. I believe, too, she had contracted serious debts, and he was +anxious to take her out of the way of temptation. Heriot was always a +creature of impulse; his chief motive in following us here was to bury +himself socially, though I think our friendship had even then become +necessary to him. At one time he trusted, too, that the change might be +beneficial for her; but he soon found out his mistake.'</p> + +<p>'They say that women who have contracted this fatal habit are so seldom +cured,' sighed Mildred.</p> + +<p>'God help their husbands!' ejaculated Mr. Lambert. 'I always thought +myself that the poor creature was possessed, for her acts certainly +bordered on frenzy. He found at last that he was fighting against mental +disease, but he refused all advice to place her under restraint. "I am +her husband," he said once to me; "I have taken her for better and +worse. But there will be no better for her, my poor Margaret; she will +not be long with me—there is another disease at work; let her die in +her husband's home."'</p> + +<p>'But did she die there? I thought Betha told me she was away from him.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, he had sent her with her nurse to the sea, meaning to join them, +when news reached him that she was rapidly failing. The release came +none too soon. Poor creature! she had suffered martyrdom; it was by her +own wish that he was called, but he arrived too late—the final attack +was very sudden. And so, as he said, the demon that had tormented her +was cast out for ever. "Anything more grandly beautiful than she looked +could not be imagined." But what touched him most was to find among the +treasures she had secretly hidden about her, an infant's sock and a +scrap of downy hair; and faintly, almost illegibly, traced on the paper +by her dying hand, "My little son's hair, to be given to his father." +Ah, Mildred, my dear, you look ready to weep; but, alas! such stories +are by no means rare, and during my ministry I have met with others +almost as sad as Heriot's. His troubles are over now, poor fellow, +though doubtless they have left life-long scars. Grieved as he has been, +he may yet see the fruit of his noble forbearance in that tardy +repentance and mute prayer for forgiveness. Who knows but that the first +sight that may meet his eyes in the other world may be Margaret, +"sitting clothed and in her right mind at her Master's feet"?'</p> + +<p>Never had Mildred seen her brother more roused and excited than during +the recital of his friend's unhappy story, while in herself it had +excited a degree of emotion that was almost painful.</p> + +<p>'It shows how carefully we should abstain from judging people from their +outward appearance,' she remarked, after a short interval of silence. +'When I first saw Dr. Heriot I thought there was something a little +repellent in that dark face of his, but when he spoke he gave me a more +pleasing impression.'</p> + +<p>'He has his bitter moods at times; no one could pass through such an +ordeal quite unscathed. I am afraid he will never marry again; he told +me once that the woman did not live whom he could love as he loved +Margaret.'</p> + +<p>'She must have been very beautiful.'</p> + +<p>'I believe her chief charm lay in her wonderful fascination of manner. +Heriot is a severe critic in feminine beauty; he is singularly +fastidious; he will not allow that Miss Trelawny is handsome, though I +believe she is generally considered to be so. But I must not waste any +more time in gossiping about our neighbours. By the bye, Mildred, you +must prepare for an inundation of visitors this afternoon.'</p> + +<p>Mr. Lambert was right. Mildred, to her great surprise, found herself +holding a reception, which lasted late into the afternoon; at one time +there was quite a block of wagonettes and pony carriages in the +courtyard; and but for her brother's kindness in remaining to steer her +through the difficulties of numerous introductions, she might have found +her neighbours' goodwill a little perplexing.</p> + +<p>She had just decided in her own mind that Mrs. Sadler was disagreeable, +and the Northcotes slightly presuming and in bad style, and that Mrs. +Heath was as rosy and commonplace as her husband, when they took their +leave, and another set of visitors arrived who were rather, more to +Mildred's taste.</p> + +<p>These were the Delameres of Castlesteads. The Reverend Stephen Delamere +was a tall, ascetic-looking man, with quiet, well-bred manners, in +severe clerical costume. His wife had a simple, beautiful face, and was +altogether a pleasant, comely-looking creature, but her speech was +somewhat homely; and Mildred thought her a little over-dressed: the pink +cheeks and smiling eyes hardly required the pink ribbons and feathers to +set them off. Their only child, a lad of ten years, was with them, and +Mildred, who was fond of boys, could not help admiring the bold gipsy +face and dark eyes.</p> + +<p>'I am afraid Claude is like me, people say so,' observed Mrs. Delamere, +turning her beaming face on Mildred. 'I would much rather he were like +his father; the Delameres are all good-looking; old Mr. Delamere was; +Stephen called him after his grandfather; I think Claude such a pretty +name; Claude Lorraine Delamere: Lorraine is a family name, too; not +mine, you know,' dimpling more than ever at the idea; 'good gracious, +the Greysons don't own many pretty names among them.'</p> + +<p>'Susie, I have been asking our friend Richard to take an early +opportunity of driving his aunt over to Castlesteads,' interrupted her +husband, with an uneasy glance, 'and we must make Miss Lambert promise +to bring over her nieces to the Rush-bearing.'</p> + +<p>Mrs. Delamere clapped her plump hands together joyously, showing a slit +in her pink glove as she did so.</p> + +<p>'I am so glad you have mentioned that, Stephen, I might have forgotten +it. Miss Lambert, you must come to us; you must indeed. The Chestertons +of the Hall are sure to ask you; but you must remember you are engaged +to us.'</p> + +<p>'The Rush-bearing,' repeated Mildred, somewhat perplexed.</p> + +<p>'It is an old Westmoreland custom,' explained Mr. Delamere; 'it is kept +on St. Peter's Day, and is a special holiday with us. I believe it was +revived in the last century at Great Musgrave,' he continued, looking at +Mr. Lambert for confirmation of the statement.</p> + +<p>'Yes, but it did not long continue; it has been revived again of late; +it is a pretty sight, Mildred, and well worth seeing; the children carry +garlands instead of rushes to the church, where service is said; and +afterwards there is a dance in the park, and sports, such as wrestling, +pole-leaping, and trotting matches, are carried on all the afternoon.'</p> + +<p>'But what is the origin of such a custom, Arnold?'</p> + +<p>'It dates from the time when our forefathers used green rushes instead +of carpets, the intention being to bless the rushes on the day of the +patron saint.'</p> + +<p>'You must permit me to contradict you in one particular, Lambert, as our +authorities slightly differ. The real origin of the custom was that, on +the day of the patron saint, the church was strewn with fresh rushes, +the procession being headed by a girl dressed in white, and wearing a +crown; but Miss Lambert looks impressed,' he continued, with a serious +smile; 'you must come and see it for yourself. Chrissy tells me she is +too old to wear a crown this year. Some of our ladies show great taste +in the formation of their garlands.'</p> + +<p>'May Chesterton's is always the prettiest. Do you mean to dance with May +on the green this year, Claude?' asked Mrs. Delamere, turning to her +boy.</p> + +<p>Claude shook his head and coloured disdainfully.</p> + +<p>'I am going in for the foot-race; father says I may,' he returned, +proudly.</p> + +<p>'May is his little sweetheart; he has been faithful to her ever since he +was six years old. Uncle Greyson says——'</p> + +<p>'Susie, we must be going,' exclaimed her husband, hastily. 'You must not +forget the Chestertons and Islip are dining with us to-night. Claude, my +boy, bid Miss Lambert good-bye. My wife and I hope to see you very soon +at the vicarage.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, come soon,' repeated Mrs. Delamere, with a comfortable squeeze of +her hand and more smiles. 'Stephen is always in such a hurry; but you +must pay us a long visit, and bring that poor girl with you. Yes, I am +ready, Stephen,' as a frown of impatience came over her husband's face. +'You know of old what a sad gossip I am; but there, what are women's +tongues given them for if they are not to be used?' and Susie looked up +archly at the smooth, blue-shaven face, that was slow to relax into a +smile.</p> + +<p>Mildred hoped that these would be her last visitors, but she was +mistaken, for a couple of harmless maiden ladies, rejoicing in the +cognomen of Ortolan, took their places, and chirruped to Mildred in +shrill little birdlike voices. Mildred, who had plenty of quiet humour +of her own, thought they were not unlike a pair of love-birds Arnold had +once given her, the little sharp faces, and hooked noses, and light +prominent eyes were not unlike them; and the bright green shawls, +bordered with yellow palm-leaves, completed the illusion. They were so +wonderfully alike, too, the only perceptible difference being that Miss +Tabitha had gray curls, and a velvet band, and talked more; and Miss +Prissy had a large miniature of an officer, probably an Ortolan too, +adorning her small brown wrist.</p> + +<p>They talked to Mildred breathlessly about the mothers' meeting, and the +clothing-club, and the savings' bank.</p> + +<p>'Such a useful institution of dear Mr. Lambert's,' exclaimed Miss +Prissy.</p> + +<p>'The whole parish is so well conducted,' echoed her sister with a +tremulous movement of the head and curls; 'we think ourselves blessed in +our pastor, Miss Lambert,' in a perfectly audible whisper; 'such +discourses, such clear doctrine and Bible truth, such resignation +manifested under such a trying dispensation. Oh dear, Prissy,' +interrupting herself, as a stanhope, with a couple of dark brown horses, +was driven into the court with some little commotion, 'here is the +squire, and what will he say at our taking the precedence of him, and +making bold to pay our respects to Miss Lambert?'</p> + +<p>'He would say you are very kind neighbours, I hope,' returned Mildred, +trying not to smile, and wondering when her ordeal would be over. Her +brother had not effected his escape yet, and his jaded face was a tacit +reproach to her. Richard, who had ushered in their previous visitors, +and had remained yawning in the background, brightened up visibly.</p> + +<p>'Here are the Trelawnys, sir; it is very good of them to call so soon.'</p> + +<p>'It is only what I should have expected, Cardie,' returned his father, +with mild indifference. 'Mr. Trelawny is a man of the world, and knows +what is right, that is all.'</p> + +<p>And Richard for once looked crestfallen.</p> + +<p>'Dear now, but doesn't she look a beauty,' whispered Miss Tabitha, +ecstatically, as Miss Trelawny swept into the room on her father's arm, +and greeted Mildred civilly, but without effusion, and then seated +herself at some little distance, where Richard immediately joined her, +the squire meanwhile taking up a somewhat lofty attitude on the +hearthrug, directly facing Mildred.</p> + +<p>Mildred thought she had never seen a finer specimen of an English +gentleman; the tall, well-knit figure, the clear-cut face, and olive +complexion, relieved by the snow-white hair, made up a very striking +exterior; perhaps the eyes were a little cold and glassy-looking, but on +the whole it could not be denied that Mr. Trelawny was a very +aristocratic-looking man.</p> + +<p>His manners were easy and polished, and he was evidently well read on +many subjects. Nevertheless a flavour of condescension in his tone gave +Mildred an uneasy conviction that she was hardly appearing to her best +advantage. She was painfully aware once or twice of a slight hesitation +marring a more than usually well-worded sentence, and could see it was +at once perceived.</p> + +<p>Mildred had never considered herself of great consequence, but she had a +certain wholesome self-respect which was grievously wounded by the +patronising indulgence that rectified her harmless error.</p> + +<p>'I felt all at once as though I were nobody, and might be taken up for +false pretensions for trying to be somebody,' as she expressed it to Dr. +Heriot afterwards, who laughed and said—</p> + +<p>'Very true.'</p> + +<p>Mildred would have risen to seat herself by Miss Trelawny, but the +squire's elaborate observations allowed her no reprieve. Once or twice +she strove to draw her into the conversation; but a turn of the head, +and a brief answer, more curt than agreeable, was all that rewarded her +efforts. Nevertheless Mildred liked her voice; it had a pleasant +crispness in it, and the abruptness was not unmusical.</p> + +<p>Mildred only saw her full face when she rose to take leave: her figure +was very graceful, but her features could hardly be termed beautiful; +though the dead brown hair, with its waves of ripples, and the large +brilliant eyes, made her a decidedly striking-looking girl.</p> + +<p>Mildred, who was somewhat Quaker-like in her taste, thought the +cream-coloured silk, with its ruby velvet facings, somewhat out of place +in their homely vicarage, though the Rubens hat was wonderfully +picturesque; it seemed less incongruous when Miss Trelawny remarked +casually that they were on their way to a garden-party.</p> + +<p>'Do you like archery? Papa is thinking of getting up a club for the +neighbourhood,' she said, looking at Mildred as she spoke. In spite of +their dark brilliancy there was a sad, wistful look in her eyes that +somehow haunted Mildred. They looked like eyes that were demanding +sympathy from a world that failed to understand them.</p> + +<p>It was not to be expected that Mildred would be prepossessed by Miss +Trelawny in a first visit. Not for weeks, nor for long afterwards, did +she form a true estimate of her visitor, or learn the idiosyncrasies of +a character at once peculiar and original.</p> + +<p>People never understood Ethel Trelawny. There were subtle difficulties +in her nature that baffled and repelled them. 'She was odd,' they said, +'so unusual altogether, and said such queer things;' a few even hinted +that it was possible that a part might sometimes be acted.</p> + +<p>Miss Trelawny was nineteen now, and had passed through two London +seasons with indifferent success, a fact somewhat surprising, as her +attractions certainly were very great. Without being exactly beautiful, +she yet gave an impression of beauty, and certain tints of colour and +warm lights made her at times almost brilliant. In a crowded ballroom +she was always the centre of observation; but one by one her partners +dropped off, displeased and perplexed by the scarifying process to which +they had been subjected.</p> + +<p>'People come to dance and not to think,' observed one young cornet, +turning restive under such treatment, and yet obstinate in his +admiration of Ethel. He had been severely scorched during a previous +dance, but had returned to the charge most gallantly; 'the music is +delicious; do take one more turn with me; there is a clear space now.'</p> + +<p>'Do people ever think; does that man, for example?' returned Ethel, +indicating a tall man before them, who was pulling his blonde moustache +with an expression of satisfied vacuity. 'What sort of dwarfed soul +lives in that six feet or so of human matter?'</p> + +<p>'Miss Trelawny, you are too bad,' burst out her companion with an +expression of honest wrath that showed him not far removed from boyhood. +'That fellow is the bravest and the kindest-hearted in our regiment. He +nursed me, by Jove, that he did, when I was down with fever in the +hunting-box last year. Not think—Robert Drummond not think,' and he +doubled his fist with an energy that soon showed a gash in the faultless +lavender kid glove.</p> + +<p>'I like you all the better for your defence of your friend,' returned +Ethel calmly, and she turned on him a smile so frank and sweet that the +young man was almost dazzled. 'If one cannot think, one should at least +feel. If I give you one turn more, I dare say you will forgive me,' and +from that moment she and Charlie Treherne were firm friends.</p> + +<p>But others were not so fortunate, and retired crestfallen and +humiliated. One of Charlie's brother-officers whom he introduced to +Ethel in a fit of enthusiasm as 'our major, and a man every inch of him, +one of the sort who would do the charge at Balaclava again,' subsided +into sulkiness and total inanity on finding that instead of discussing +Patti and the last opera, Ethel was bent on discovering the ten missing +tribes of Israel.</p> + +<p>'How hot this room is. They don't give us enough ventilation, I think,' +gasped the worthy major at length.</p> + +<p>'I was just thinking it was so cool. You are the third partner I have +had who has complained of the heat. If you are tired of this waltz, let +us sit down in that delightful conservatory;' but as the major, with a +good deal of unnecessary energy, declared he could dance till daybreak +without fatigue, Ethel quietly continued her discourse.</p> + +<p>'I have a theory, I forget from whom I first gathered it, that we shall +be discovered to be the direct descendants of the tribe of Gad. Look +round this room, Major Hartstone, you will find a faint type of Jewish +features on many a face; that girl with the dark <i>crépé</i> hair +especially. I consider we shall play a prominent part in the +millennium.'</p> + +<p>'Millennium—aw; you are too droll, Miss Trelawny. I can see a joke as +well as most people, but you go too deep for me. Fancy what Charlie will +say when I tell him that he belongs to the tribe of Gad—tribe of +Gad—aw—aw—' and as the major, unable to restrain his hilarity any +longer, burst into a fit of hearty laughter, Ethel, deeply offended, +desired him to lead her to her place.</p> + +<p>It was no better in the Row, where Miss Trelawny rode daily with her +father, her beautiful figure and superb horsemanship attracting all +eyes. At first she had quite a little crowd of loungers round her, but +they dispersed by degrees.</p> + +<p>'Do you see that girl—Miss Boville?' asked one in a languid drawl, as +Ethel reined her horse up under a tree, and sat looking dreamily over +the shifting mass of carriages and gaily-dressed pedestrians; 'she is +awfully handsome; don't you think so?'</p> + +<p>'I don't know. I have not thought about it,' she returned, abstractedly; +'the question is, Captain Ellison, has she a beautiful mind?'</p> + +<p>'My dear Miss Trelawny, you positively startle me; you are so unlike +other people. I only know she has caught Medwin and his ten thousand a +year.'</p> + +<p>'Poor thing,' was the answer, leaning over and stroking her horse's neck +thoughtfully. 'Touched—quite touched,' observed the young man, +significantly tapping his forehead, as Ethel rode by—'must be a little +queer, you know, or she would not say such things—sort of craze or +hallucination—do you know if it be in the family?'</p> + +<p>'Nonsense, it is only an ill-arranged mind airing its ideas; she is +delightfully young and fresh,' returned his companion, a clever +barrister, who had the wit to read a girl's vagarisms aright as the +volcanic eruptions of an undisciplined and unsatisfied nature.</p> + +<p>But it would not do; people passed over Ethel for other girls who were +comparatively plain and ordinary, but whose thinking powers were more +under control. One declaration had indeed been made, but it was received +by such sad wonder on Ethel's part, that the young man looked at her in +reproachful confusion.</p> + +<p>'Surely you cannot have mistaken my attentions, Miss Trelawny? As a man +of honour, I thought it right to come to a clear understanding; if I +have ventured to hope too much, I trust you will tell me so.'</p> + +<p>'Do you mean you wish to marry me?' asked Ethel, in a tone of regret and +dismay.</p> + +<p>Arthur Sullivan had been a special favourite with her; he had listened +to her rhapsodies good-humouredly, and had forborne to laugh at them; he +was good-looking too, and possessed of moderate intelligence, and they +had got on very well together during a whole season. It was with a +sensation of real pain that she heard him avow his intentions.</p> + +<p>'There is some mistake. I have never led you to believe that I would +ever be your wife,' she continued, turning pale, and her eyes filling +with tears.</p> + +<p>'No, Miss Trelawny—never,' he answered, hurriedly; 'you are no flirt. +If any one be to blame, it is I, for daring to hope I could win you.'</p> + +<p>'Indeed it is I who do not deserve you,' she returned, sadly; 'but it is +not your fault that you cannot give me what I want. Perhaps I expect too +much; perhaps I hardly know what it is I really do want.'</p> + +<p>'May I wait till you find out?' he asked, earnestly; 'real love is not +to be despised, even though it be accompanied with little wisdom.'</p> + +<p>The white lids dropped heavily over the eyes, and for a moment she made +no answer; only as he rose from her side, and walked up and down in his +agitation, she rose too, hurriedly.</p> + +<p>'It cannot be—I feel it—I know it—you are too good to me, Mr. +Sullivan; and I want something more than goodness—but—but—does my +father know?'</p> + +<p>'Can you doubt it?'</p> + +<p>'Then he will never forgive me for refusing you. Oh, what a hard thing +it is to be a woman, and to wait for one's fate, instead of going out to +seek it. Now I have lost my friend in finding a lover, and my father's +anger will be bitter against me.'</p> + +<p>Ethel was right; in refusing Arthur Sullivan she had refused the +presumptive heir to a baronetcy, and Mr. Trelawny's ambitious soul was +sorely vexed within him.</p> + +<p>'You have never been of any use or comfort to me, Ethel, and you never +will,' he said, harshly; 'just as I was looking to you to redeem +matters, you are throwing away this chance. What was the fault with the +young fellow? you seemed fond enough of him at one time; he is handsome +and gentlemanly enough to please any girl; but it is just one of your +fads.'</p> + +<p>'He is very amiable, but his character wants backbone, papa. When I +marry, my husband must be my master; I have no taste for holding the +reins myself.'</p> + +<p>'When you marry: I wish you would marry, Ethel, for all the comfort you +are to me. If my boys had lived—but what is the use of wishing for +anything?'</p> + +<p>'Papa,' she returned with spirit, 'I cannot help being a girl; it is my +misfortune, not my fault. I wish I could satisfy you better,' she +continued, softly, 'but it seems as though we grow more apart every +day.'</p> + +<p>'It is your own fault,' he returned, morosely. 'Marry Arthur Sullivan, +and I will promise to think better of your sense.'</p> + +<p>'I cannot, papa. I am not going to marry any one,' she answered, in the +suppressed voice he knew so well. And then, as though fearful the +argument might be continued, she quietly left the room.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h3>KIRKLEATHAM</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'And on we went; but ere an hour had pass'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We reach'd a meadow slanting to the North;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down which a well-worn pathway courted us<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To one green wicket in a privet hedge;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This, yielding, gave into a grassy walk<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through crowded lilac-ambush trimly pruned;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And one warm gust, full-fed with perfume, blew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beyond us, as we enter'd in the cool.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The garden stretches southward.'—<span class="smcap">Tennyson.</span><br /></span> +</div></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>The next few days passed quietly enough. Mildred, who had now assumed +the entire management of the household, soon discovered that Olive's +four months of misrule and shiftlessness had entailed on her an overplus +of work, and, though she was never idle, she soon found that even her +willing hands could hardly perform all the tasks laid on them, and that +scarcely an interval of leisure was available throughout the day.</p> + +<p>'It will not be always so,' she remarked, cheerfully, when Richard took +upon himself to remonstrate with her. 'When I have got things a little +more into order, I mean to have plenty of time to myself. Polly and I +have planned endless excursions to Podgill and the out-wood, to stock +the new fernery Roy is making for us, and I hope to accompany your +father sometimes when he goes to Nateley and Winton.'</p> + +<p>'Nevertheless, I mean to drive you over to Brough to-day. You must come, +Aunt Milly. You are looking pale, Dr. John says, and the air will do you +good. Huddle all those things into the basket,' he continued, in a +peremptory voice that amused Mildred, and, acting on his words, he swept +the neat pile of dusters and tea-cloths that lay beside her into Olive's +unlucky mending-basket, and then faced round on her with his most +persuasive air. 'It is such a delicious day, and you have been working +like a galley-slave ever since you got up this morning,' he said, +apologetically. 'My father would be quite troubled if he knew how hard +you work. Do you know Dr. John threatens to tell him?'</p> + +<p>'Dr. John had better mind his own business,' returned Mildred, +colouring. 'Very well, Richard, you shall have your way as usual; my +head aches rather, and a drive will be refreshing. Perhaps you could +drop me at Kirkleatham on our way home. I must return Miss Trelawny's +visit.'</p> + +<p>Richard assented with alacrity, and then bidding Mildred be ready for +him in ten minutes, he hastened from the room.</p> + +<p>Mildred had noticed a great change in Richard during the last week; he +seemed brighter, and was less carping and disagreeable in his manners to +Olive; and though he still snubbed her at times, there was an evident +desire to preserve harmony in the family circle, which the others were +not slow to appreciate.</p> + +<p>In many little ways he showed Mildred that he was grateful to her for +the added comfort of her presence; any want of regularity and order was +peculiarly trying to him; and now that he was no longer aggravated by +Olive's carelessness and left-handed ways, he could afford even to be +gracious to her, especially as Mildred had succeeded in effecting some +sort of reformation in the offending hair and dress.</p> + +<p>'There, now you look nice, and Cardie will say so,' she said, as she +fastened up the long braids, which now looked bright and glossy, and +then settled the collar, which was as usual somewhat awry, and tied the +black ribbon into a natty bow. 'A little more time and care would not be +wasted, Olive. We have no right to tease other people by our untidy +ways, or to displease their eyes; it is as much an act of selfishness as +of indolence, and may be encouraged until it becomes a positive sin.'</p> + +<p>'Do you think so, Aunt Milly?'</p> + +<p>'I am sure of it. Chrissy thinks me hard on her, but so much depends on +the habits we form when quite young. I believe with many persons +tidiness is an acquired virtue; it requires some sort of education, and +certainly not a little discipline.'</p> + +<p>'But, Aunt Milly, I thought some people were always tidy; from their +childhood, I mean. Chriss and I never were,' she continued, sorrowfully.</p> + +<p>'Some people are methodical by nature; Cardie, for example. They early +see the fitness and beauty of order. But, Olive, for your comfort, I am +sure it is to be acquired.'</p> + +<p>'Not by me, Aunt Milly.'</p> + +<p>'My dear—why not? It is only a question of patience and discipline. If +you made the rule now of never going to a drawer in a hurry. When +Chrissy wants anything, she jerks the contents of the whole drawer on +the floor; I have found her doing it more than once.'</p> + +<p>'She could not find her gloves, and Cardie was waiting,' returned Olive, +always desirous of screening another's fault.</p> + +<p>'Yes; but she left it to you to pick up all the things again. If +Chriss's gloves were in their right place, no one need have been +troubled. I could find my gloves blindfold.'</p> + +<p>'I am always tidying my own and Chrissy's drawers, Aunt Milly; but in a +few days they are as bad as ever,' returned Olive, helplessly.</p> + +<p>'Because you never have time to search quietly for a thing. Did you look +in the glass, Olive, while you were doing your hair this morning?'</p> + +<p>'I don't know. I think so. I was learning my German verses, I believe.'</p> + +<p>'So Cardie had a right to grumble over your crooked parting and unkempt +appearance. You should keep your duties like the contents of your +drawers, neatly piled on the top of each other. No lady can arrange her +hair properly and do German at the same time. Tell me, Olive, you have +not so many headaches since I got your father to forbid your sitting up +so late at night.'</p> + +<p>'No, Aunt Milly; but all the same I wish you and he had not made the +rule; it used to be such a quiet time.'</p> + +<p>'And you learn all the quicker since you have had regular walks with +Polly and Chriss.'</p> + +<p>'I am less tired after my lessons, certainly. I thought that was because +you took away the mending-basket; the stooping made my back ache, +and——'</p> + +<p>'I see,' returned Mildred, with a satisfied smile.</p> + +<p>Olive's muddy complexion was certainly clearer, and there was less +heaviness in her gait, since she had judiciously insisted that the hours +of rest should be kept intact. It had cost Olive some tears, however, +for that quiet time when the household were sleeping round her was very +precious to the careworn girl.</p> + +<p>Richard gave vent to an audible expression of pleasure when he noticed +his sister's altered appearance, and his look of approbation was most +pleasant to Mildred.</p> + +<p>'If you would only hold yourself up, and smile sometimes, you would +really look as well as other people,' was the qualified praise he gave +her.</p> + +<p>'I am glad you are pleased,' returned Olive, simply. 'I never expect you +to admire me, Cardie. I am plainer than any one else, I know.'</p> + +<p>'Yes; but you have nice eyes, and what a quantity of hair,' passing his +hand over the thick coils in which Mildred had arranged it. 'She looks a +different girl, does she not, Aunt Milly?'</p> + +<p>'It is very odd, but I believe Cardie does not dislike me so much +to-day,' Olive said, when she wished her aunt good-night.</p> + +<p>She and Polly took turns every night in coming into Mildred's room with +little offers of service, but in reality to indulge in a cosy chat. It +was characteristic of the girls that they never came together. Olive was +silent and reserved before Polly, and Polly was at times a little +caustic in her wit. 'We mix as badly as oil and water,' she said once. +'I shall always think Olive the most tiresome creature in the world. +Chriss is far more amusing.'</p> + +<p>'Why do you think so?' asked Mildred, gently. She was always gentle with +Olive; these sort of weary natures need much patience and delicacy of +handling, she thought.</p> + +<p>'He speaks more kindly, and he has looked at me several times, not in +his critical way, but as if he were not so much displeased at my +appearance; but, Aunt Milly, it is so odd, his caring, I mean.'</p> + +<p>'Why so, my dear?'</p> + +<p>'If I loved a person very much, I should not care how they looked; they +might be ugly or deformed, but it would make no difference. Cardie's +love seems to vary somehow.'</p> + +<p>'Anything unsightly is very grievous to him, but not in the way you +mean, Olive. He is peculiarly tender over any physical infirmity. I +liked his manner so to little Cathy Villers to-day.'</p> + +<p>'But all the same he attaches too much importance to merely outward +things,' returned Olive, who sometimes showed tenacity in her opinions; +'not that I blame him,' she continued, as though she feared she had been +uncharitable, 'only that it is so odd.'</p> + +<p>Mildred was in a somewhat gladsome mood as she prepared for her drive. +Richard's thoughtfulness pleased her; on the whole things were going +well with her. Under her judicious management, the household had fallen +into more equable and tranquil ways. There were fewer jars, and more +opportunity for Roy's lurking spirit of fun to develop itself. She had +had two or three stormy scenes with Chriss; but the little girl had +already learned to respect the gentle firmness that would not abate one +iota of lawful authority.</p> + +<p>'We are learning our verbs from morning to night,' grumbled Chriss, in a +confidential aside to Roy; 'that horrid one, "to tidy," you know. Aunt +Milly is always in the imperative mood. I declare I am getting sick of +it. Hannah or Rachel used to mend my gloves and things, and now she +insists on my doing it myself. I broke a dozen needles one afternoon to +spite her, but she gave me the thirteenth with the same sweet smile. It +is so tiresome not to be able to provoke people.'</p> + +<p>But even Chrissy was secretly learning to value the kind forbearance +that bore with her wayward fancies, and the skilfulness that helped her +out of many a scrape. Mildred had made the rule that after six o'clock +no lesson-books were to be opened. In the evening they either walked or +drove, or sat on the lawn working, while Richard or Roy read aloud, +Mildred taking the opportunity to overlook her nieces' work, and to +remonstrate over the giant strides that Chriss's needle was accustomed +to take. Even Olive owned these quiet times were very nice, while Mr. +Lambert had once or twice been drawn into the charmed circle, and had +paced the terrace in lieu of the churchyard, irresistibly attracted by +the pleasant spectacle.</p> + +<p>Mildred was doing wonders in her quiet way; she had already gained some +insight into parish matters; she had accompanied her brother in his +house-to-house visitation, and had been much struck by the absence of +anything like distress. Poverty was there, but not hard-griping want. As +a general rule the people were well-to-do, independent, and fairly +respectable. One village had a forlorn and somewhat neglected +appearance; but the generality of Mr. Lambert's parishioners struck +Mildred as far superior to the London poor whom she had visited.</p> + +<p>As yet she had not seen the darker side of the picture; she was shocked +to hear Mr. Lambert speak on future occasions of the tendency to schism, +and the very loose notions of morality that prevailed even among the +better sort of people. The clergy had uphill work, he said. The new +railway had brought a large influx of navvies, and the public-houses +were always full.</p> + +<p>'The commandments are broken just as easily in sight of God's hills as +they are in the crowded and fetid alleys of our metropolis,' he said +once. 'Human nature is the same everywhere, even though it be glossed +over by outward respectability.</p> + +<p>Mildred had already come in contact with the Ortolans more than once, +and had on many occasions seen the green and yellow shawls flitting in +and out of the cottages.</p> + +<p>'They do a great deal of good, and are really very worthy creatures, in +spite of their oddities,' observed Mr. Lambert once. 'They live over at +Hartley. There is a third one, an invalid, Miss Bathsheba, who is very +different from the others, and is, I think, quite a superior person. +When I think of the gallant struggle they have carried on against +trouble and poverty, one is inclined to forgive their little whims: it +takes all sorts of people to make up a world, Mildred.'</p> + +<p>Mildred thoroughly enjoyed her drive. Richard was in one of his +brightest moods, and talked with more animation than usual, and seeing +that his aunt was really interested in learning all about their +surroundings, he insisted on putting up the pony-carriage, and took +Mildred to see the church and the castle.</p> + +<p>The vicarage and churchyard were so pleasantly situated, and the latter +looked so green and shady, that she was disappointed to find the inside +of the church very bare and neglected-looking, while the damp earthy +atmosphere spoke of infrequent services.</p> + +<p>There were urgent need of repairs, and a general shabbiness of detail +that was pitiable: the high wooden pews looked comfortless, ordinary +candles evidently furnished a dim and insufficient light. Mildred felt +quite oppressed as she left the building.</p> + +<p>'There can be no true Church-spirit here, Richard. Fancy worshipping in +that damp, mouldy place; are there no zealous workers here, who care to +beautify their church?'</p> + +<p>Richard shook his head. 'We cannot complain of our want of privileges +after that. I have been speaking to my father, and I really fancy we +shall acquire a regular choir next year, and if so we shall turn out the +Morrisons and Gunnings. My father is over-lenient to people's +prejudices; it grieves him to disturb long-rooted customs.'</p> + +<p>'Where are we going now, Richard?'</p> + +<p>'To Brough Castle; the ruin stands on a little hill just by; it is one +of the celebrated Countess of Pembroke's castles. You know the legend, +Aunt Milly?'</p> + +<p>'No, I cannot say that I do.'</p> + +<p>'She seems to have been a strong-minded person, and was always building +castles. It was prophesied that as long as she went on building she +would not die, and in consequence her rage for castle-building increased +with her age; but at last there was a severe frost, during which no work +could be carried on, and so the poor countess died.'</p> + +<p>'What a lovely view there is from here, Richard.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, that long level of green to our left is where the celebrated +Brough fair is held. The country people use it as a date, "last Brough +Hill," as they say—the word "Brough" comes from "Brugh," a +fortification. My father has written a very clever paper on the origin +of the names of places; it is really very interesting.'</p> + +<p>'Some of the names are so quaint—"Smardale," for example.'</p> + +<p>'Let me see, that has a Danish termination, and means +Butter-dale—"dale" from "dal," a valley; Garsdale, grass-dale; +Sleddale, from "slet," plain, the open level plain or dale, and so on. I +recollect my father told us that "Kirkby," on the contrary, is always of +Christian origin, as "Kirkby Stephen," and "Kirkby Kendal;" but perhaps +you are not fond of etymology, Aunt Milly.'</p> + +<p>'On the contrary, it is rather a favourite study of mine; go on, +Richard. I want to know how Kirkby Stephen got its name.'</p> + +<p>'I must quote my father again, then. He thinks the victorious Danes +found a kirk with houses near it, and called the place Kirkby, and they +afterwards learnt that the church was dedicated to St. Stephen, the +proto-martyr, and then added his name to distinguish it from the other +Kirkbys.'</p> + +<p>'It must have been rather a different church, Richard.'</p> + +<p>'I see I must go on quoting. He says, "We can almost picture to +ourselves that low, narrow, quaint old church, with its rude walls and +thatched roof." But, Aunt Milly, we must be thinking of returning, if we +are to call on the Trelawnys. By the bye, what do you think of them?'</p> + +<p>'Of Mr. Trelawny, you mean, for I certainly did not exchange three words +with his daughter.'</p> + +<p>'I noticed she was very silent; she generally is when he is present. +What a pity it is they do not understand each other better.'</p> + +<p>He seemed waiting for her to speak, but Mildred, who was taking a last +lingering look at the ruin, was slow to respond.</p> + +<p>'He seems very masterful,' she said at last when they had entered the +pony-carriage, and were driving homewards.</p> + +<p>'Yes, and what is worse, so narrow in his views. He is very kind to me, +and I get on with him tolerably well,' continued Richard, modestly; 'but +I can understand the repressing influence under which she lives.'</p> + +<p>'It seems so strange for a father not to understand his daughter.'</p> + +<p>'I believe he is fond of her in his own way; he can hardly help being +proud of her. You see, he lost his two boys when they were lads in a +dreadful way; they were both drowned in bathing, and he has never got +over their loss; it is really very hard for him, especially as his wife +died not very long afterwards. They say the shock killed her.'</p> + +<p>'Poor man, he has known no ordinary trouble. I can understand how lonely +it must be for her.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, it is all the worse that she does not care for the people about +here. With the exception of us and the Delawares, she has no friends—no +intimate friends, I mean.'</p> + +<p>'Her exclusiveness is to blame, then; our neighbours seem really very +kind-hearted.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, but they are not her sort. I think you like the Delawares +yourself, Aunt Milly?'</p> + +<p>'Very much. I was just going to ask you more about them. Mrs. Delaware +is very nice, but it struck me that she is not equal to her husband.'</p> + +<p>'No; he is a fine fellow. You see, she was only a yeoman's daughter, and +he educated her to be his wife.'</p> + +<p>'That accounts for her homely speech.'</p> + +<p>'My father married them. She was a perfect little rustic beauty, he +says. She ran away from school twice, and at last told Mr. Delaware that +he might marry her or not as he pleased, but she would have no more of +the schooling; if she were not nice enough for him, she was for Farmer +Morrison of Wharton Hall, and of course that decided the question.'</p> + +<p>'I hope she makes him a good wife.'</p> + +<p>'Very, and he is exceedingly fond of her, though she makes him uneasy at +times. Her connections are not very desirable, and she can never be made +to understand that they are to be kept in the background. I have seen +him sit on thorns during a whole evening, looking utterly wretched, +while she dragged in Uncle Greyson and Brother Ben every other moment.'</p> + +<p>'I wish she would dress more quietly; she looks very unlike a +clergyman's wife.'</p> + +<p>Richard smiled. 'Miss Trelawny is very fond of driving over to Warcop +Vicarage. She enjoys talking to Mr. Delaware, but I have noticed his +wife looks a little sad at not being able to join in their conversation; +possibly she regrets the schooling;' but here Richard's attention was +diverted by a drove of oxen, and as soon as the road was clear he had +started a new topic, which lasted till they reached their destination.</p> + +<p>Kirkleatham was a large red castellated building built on a slight +eminence, and delightfully situated, belted in with green meadows, and +commanding lovely views of soft distances; that from the terrace in +front of the house was especially beautiful, the church and town of +Kirkby Stephen distinctly visible, and the grouping of the dark hills at +once varied and full of loveliness.</p> + +<p>As they drove through the shrubbery Richard had a glimpse of a white +dress and a broad-brimmed hat, and stopping the pony-carriage, he +assisted Mildred to alight.</p> + +<p>'Here is Miss Trelawny, sitting under her favourite tree; you had better +go to her, Aunt Milly, while I find some one to take the mare;' and as +Mildred obeyed, Miss Trelawny laid down her book, and greeted her with +greater cordiality than she had shown on the previous visit.</p> + +<p>'Papa is somewhere about the grounds; you can find him,' she said when +Richard came up to them, and as he departed somewhat reluctantly, she +led Mildred to a shady corner of the lawn, where some basket-chairs, and +a round table strewn with work and books, made up a scene of rustic +comfort.</p> + +<p>The blue curling smoke rose from the distant town into the clear +afternoon air, the sun shone on the old church tower, the hills lay in +soft violet shadow.</p> + +<p>'I hope you admire our view?' asked Miss Trelawny, with her full, steady +glance at Mildred; and again Mildred noticed the peculiar softness, as +well as brilliancy, of her eyes. 'I think it is even more beautiful than +that which you see from the vicarage windows. Mr. Lambert and I have +often had a dispute on that subject.'</p> + +<p>'But you have not the river—that gives such a charm to ours. I would +not exchange those snatches of silvery brightness for your greater +distances. What happiness beautiful scenery affords! hopeless misery +seems quite incompatible with those ranges of softly-tinted hills.'</p> + +<p>A pensive—almost a melancholy—look crossed Miss Trelawny's face.</p> + +<p>'The worst of it is, that our moods and Nature's do not always +harmonise; sometimes the sunshine has a chilling brightness when we are +not exactly attuned to it. One must be really susceptible—in fact, an +artist—if one could find happiness in the mere circumstance of living +in a beautiful district like ours.'</p> + +<p>'I hope you do not undervalue your privileges,' returned Mildred, +smiling.</p> + +<p>'No, I am never weary of expatiating on them; but all the same, one asks +a little more of life.'</p> + +<p>'In what way?'</p> + +<p>'In every possible way,' arching her brows, with a sort +of impatience. 'What do rational human beings generally +require?—work—fellowship—possible sympathy.'</p> + +<p>'All of which are to be had for the asking. Nay, my dear Miss Trelawny,' +as Ethel's slight shrug of the shoulders testified her dissent, 'where +human beings are more or less congregated, there can be no lack of +these.'</p> + +<p>'They may possibly differ in the meaning we attach to our words. I am +not speaking of the labour market, which is already glutted.'</p> + +<p>'Nor I.'</p> + +<p>'The question is,' continued the young philosopher, wearily, 'of what +possible use are nine-tenths of the unmarried women? half of them marry +to escape from the unbearable routine and vacuum of their lives.'</p> + +<p>Ethel spoke with such mournful candour, that Mildred's first feeling of +astonishment changed into pity—so young and yet so cynical—and with +such marginal wastes of unfulfilled purpose.</p> + +<p>'When there is so much trouble and faultiness in the world,' she +answered, 'there must be surely work enough to satisfy the most hungry +nature. Have you not heard it asserted, Miss Trelawny, that nature +abhors a vacuum?'</p> + +<p>To her surprise, a shade crossed Miss Trelawny's face.</p> + +<p>'You talk so like our village Mentor, that I could almost fancy I were +listening to him. Are there no duties but the seven corporal works of +mercy, Miss Lambert? Is the intellect to play no part in the bitter +comedy of women's lives?'</p> + +<p>'You would prefer tragedy?' questioned Mildred, with a slight twitching +of the corner of her mouth. It was too absurdly incongruous to hear this +girl, radiant with health, and glorying in her youth, speaking of the +bitter comedy of life. Mildred began to accuse her in her own mind of +unreal sentiment, and the vaporous utterings of girlish spleen; but +Ethel's intense earnestness disarmed her of this suspicion.</p> + +<p>'I have no respect for the people; they are utterly brutish and +incapable of elevation. I am horrifying you, Miss Lambert, but indeed I +am not speaking without proof. At one time I took great interest in the +parish, and used to hold mothers' meetings—pleasant evenings for the +women. I used to give them tea, and let them bring their needlework, on +condition they listened to my reading. Mr. Lambert approved of my plan; +he only stipulated that as I was so very young—in age, I suppose, he +meant—that Miss Prissy Ortolan should assist me.'</p> + +<p>'And it was an excellent idea,' returned Mildred, warmly.</p> + +<p>'Yes, but it proved an utter failure,' sighed Ethel. 'The women liked +the tea, and I believe they got through a great deal of needlework, only +Miss Prissy saw after that; but they cared no more for the reading than +Minto would,' stooping down to pat the head of a large black retriever +that lay at her feet. 'I had planned a course of progressive +instruction, that should combine information with amusement; but I found +they preferred their own gossip. I asked one woman, who looked more +intelligent than the others, how she had liked Jean Ingelow's beautiful +poem, "Two Brothers and a Sermon," which I had thought simple enough to +suit even their comprehensions, and she replied, "Eh, it was fine drowsy +stuff, and would rock off half-a-dozen crying babies."'</p> + +<p>Mildred smiled.</p> + +<p>'I gave it up after that. I believe Miss Tabitha and Miss Prissy manage +it. They read little tracts to them, and the women do not talk half so +much; but it's very disheartening to think one's theory had failed.'</p> + +<p>'You soared a little beyond them, you see.'</p> + +<p>'I suppose so; but I thought their life was prosaic enough; but here +comes my father and Richard. I see they have Dr. Heriot with them.'</p> + +<p>Ethel spoke quietly, but Mildred thought there was a slight change in +her manner, which became less animated.</p> + +<p>Dr. Heriot looked both surprised and pleased when he saw Mildred; he +placed himself beside her, and listened with great interest to the +account of their afternoon's drive. On this occasion, Mildred's quiet +fluency did not desert her.</p> + +<p>Mr. Trelawny was less stiff and ceremonious in his own house; he +insisted, with old-fashioned politeness, that they should remain for +some refreshment, and he himself conducted Mildred to the top of the +tower, from which there was an extensive view.</p> + +<p>On their return, they found a charming little tea-table set out under +the trees; and Ethel, in her white gown, with pink May blossoms in her +hair, was crossing the lawn with Richard. Dr. Heriot was still lounging +complacently in his basket-chair.</p> + +<p>Ethel made a charming hostess; but she spoke very little to any one but +Richard, who hovered near her, with a happy boyish-looking face. Mildred +had never seen him to such advantage; he looked years younger, when the +grave restraint of his manners relaxed a little; and she was struck by +the unusual softness of his dark eyes. In his best moods, Richard was +undoubtedly attractive in the presence of elder men. He showed a modest +deference to their opinions, and at the same time displayed such +intelligence, that Mildred felt secretly proud of him. He was evidently +a great favourite with Mr. Trelawny and his daughter. Ethel constantly +appealed to him, and the squire scolded him for coming so seldom.</p> + +<p>The hour was a pleasant one, and Mildred thoroughly enjoyed it. Just as +they were dispersing, and the pony-carriage was coming round, Dr. Heriot +approached Ethel.</p> + +<p>'Well, have you been to see poor Jessie?' he asked, a little anxiously.</p> + +<p>Miss Trelawny shook her head.</p> + +<p>'You know I never promised,' she returned, as though trying to defend +herself.</p> + +<p>'I never think it fair to extort promises—people's better moods so +rapidly pass away. If you remember, I only advised you to do so. I +thought it would do you both good.'</p> + +<p>'You need not rank us in the same category,' she returned, proudly; 'you +are such a leveller of classes, Dr. Heriot.'</p> + +<p>'Forgive me, but when you reach Jessie's standard of excellence, I would +willingly do so. Jessie is a living proof of my theory—that we are all +equal—and the education and refinement on which you lay such stress are +only adventitious adjuncts to our circumstances. In one sense—we are +old friends, Miss Trelawny; and I may speak plainly, I know—I consider +Jessie greatly your superior.'</p> + +<p>A quick sensitive colour rose to Ethel's face. They were walking through +the shrubbery; and for a moment she turned her long neck aside, as +though to hide her pained look; but she answered, calmly—</p> + +<p>'We differ so completely in our estimates of things; I am quite aware +how high I stand in Dr. Heriot's opinion.'</p> + +<p>'Are you sure of that?' answering her with the sort of amused gentleness +with which one would censure a child. 'I am apt to keep my thoughts to +myself, and am not quite so easy to read as you are, Miss Trelawny. So +you will not go and see my favourite Jessie?' with a persuasive smile.</p> + +<p>'No,' she said, colouring high; 'I am not in the mood for it.'</p> + +<p>'Then we will say no more about it; and my remedy has failed.' But +though he talked pleasantly to her for the remainder of the way, Mildred +noticed he had his grave look, and that Ethel failed to rally her +spirits.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h3>THE RUSH-BEARING</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Heigho! daises and buttercups,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair yellow daffodils, stately and tall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sunshiny world full of laughter and leisure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fresh hearts unconscious of sorrow and thrall!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Send down on their pleasure smiles passing its measure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God that is over us all.'—<span class="smcap">Jean Ingelow.</span><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p>Mildred soon became accustomed to Dr. Heriot's constant presence about +the house, and the slight restraint she had at first felt rapidly wore +off.</p> + +<p>She soon looked upon it as a matter of course to see him at least three +evenings in the week; loneliness was not to his taste, and in +consequence, when he was not otherwise engaged, he generally shared +their evening meal at the vicarage, and remained an hour afterwards, +talking to Mr. Lambert or Richard. Mildred ceased to start with surprise +at finding him in the early morning turning over the books in her +brother's study, or helping Polly and Chriss in their new fernery. Polly +was made happy by frequent invitations to her guardian's house, where +she soon made herself at home, coming back to Mildred with delightful +accounts of how her guardian had allowed her to dust his books and mend +his gloves; and how he had approved of the French coffee she had made +him.</p> + +<p>One afternoon Chriss and she had been in the kitchen, concocting all +sorts of delicious messes, which Dr. Heriot, Cardie, and Roy were +expected to eat afterwards.</p> + +<p>Dr. Heriot gave an amusingly graphic account of the feast afterwards to +Mildred, and his old housekeeper's astonishment at 'them nasty and +Frenchified dishes.'</p> + +<p>Polly had carried in the omelette herself, and placed it with a flushed, +triumphant face before him, her dimpled elbows still whitened with +flour; the dishes were all charmingly garlanded with flowers and +leaves—tiny breast-knots of geranium and heliotrope lay beside each +plate. Polly had fastened a great cream-coloured rose into Olive's +drooping braids, which she wore reluctantly.</p> + +<p>'I wish you could have seen it all, Miss Lambert; it was the prettiest +thing possible; they had transformed my bachelor's den into a perfect +bower. Roy must have helped them, and given some of his artistic +touches. There were great trailing sprays of ivy, and fern-fronds in my +terra-cotta vases, and baskets of wild roses and ox-eyed daisies; never +was my <i>fźte</i> day so charmingly inaugurated before. The worst of it was +that Polly expected me to taste all her dishes in succession; and Chriss +insisted on my eating a large slice of the frosted cake.'</p> + +<p>Mildred was not present at Dr. Heriot's birthday party; she had +preferred staying with her brother, but she found he had not forgotten +her; the guests were surprised in their turn by finding a handsome gift +beside each plate, a print that Roy had long coveted, Trench on +<i>Parables</i> for Richard, Schiller's works for Olive, a neat little +writing-desk for Polly, and a silk-lined work-basket for Chriss, who +coloured and looked uncomfortable over the gift. Polly had orders to +carry a beautiful book on Ferns to Aunt Milly, and a slice of the +iced-cake with Dr. Heriot's compliments, and regrets that she had not +tasted the omelette—a message that Polly delivered with the utmost +solemnity.</p> + +<p>'Oh, it was so nice, Aunt Milly; Dr. Heriot is so good and indulgent. I +think he is the best man living—just to please us he let us serve up +the coffee in those beautiful cups without handles, that he values so, +and that have cost I don't know how much money; and Olive dropped hers +because she said it burnt her fingers, and broke it all to fragments. +Livy looked ready to cry, but Dr. Heriot only laughed, and would not let +Cardie scold her.'</p> + +<p>'That was kind of Dr. Heriot.'</p> + +<p>'He is never anything but kind. I am sure some of the things disagreed +with him, but he would taste them all; and then afterwards—oh, Aunt +Milly, it was so nice—we sang glees in the twilight, and when it got +quite dark, he told us a splendid ghost-story—only it turned out a +dream—which spoilt it rather; and laughed at Chrissy and me because we +looked a little pale when the lamp came in. I am sure Richard enjoyed it +as well as us, for he rubbed his hands and said, "Excellent," when he +had finished.'</p> + +<p>Mildred looked at her book when the girls had retired, fairly wearied +with chattering. It was just what she had wanted. How thoughtful of Dr. +Heriot. Her name was written in full; and for the first time she had a +chance of criticising the bold, clear handwriting. 'From a family +friend—John Heriot,' was written just underneath. After all, had it not +been a little churlish of her to refuse going with the children? The +evening had gone very heavily with her; her brother had been in one of +his taciturn moods and had retired to his room early; and finding the +house empty, and somewhat desolate, she had betaken herself to the +moonlighted paths of the churchyard, and had more than once wished she +could peep in unseen on the party.</p> + +<p>It was not long afterwards that Mildred was induced to partake of Dr. +Heriot's hospitality.</p> + +<p>It was the day before the Castlesteads Rush-bearing. Mildred was in the +town with Olive and Polly, when, just as they were turning the corner by +the King's Arms, a heavy shower came on; and Dr. Heriot, who was +entering his own door, beckoned to them to run across and take shelter.</p> + +<p>Dr. Heriot's house stood in a secluded corner of the market-place, +behind the King's Arms; the bank was on the left-hand side, and from the +front windows there was a good view of the market-place, the town pump, +and butter market, and the quaint, old-fashioned shops.</p> + +<p>The shops of Kirkby Stephen drove a brisk trade, in spite of the sleepy +air that pervaded them, and the curious intermixture of goods that they +patronised.</p> + +<p>The confectioner's was also a china shop, and there was a millinery room +upstairs, while the last new music was only procurable at the tin shop. +Jams and groceries could be procured at the druggist's, while the +fashionable milliner of the town was also the postmistress. On certain +days the dull little butcher's shop, with its picturesque gable and +overhanging balcony, was guileless of anything but its chopping-blocks, +and perhaps the half-carcase of a sheep; beef was not always to be had +for the asking, a fact which London housekeepers were slow to +understand.</p> + +<p>On Mondays the town wore a more thriving appearance; huge wagons blocked +up the market-place, stalls containing all sorts of wares occupied the +central area, the countrywomen sold chickens and eggs, and tempting +rolls of fresh butter, the gentlemen farmers congregated round the +King's Arms; towards afternoon, horse-dealers tried their horses' paces +up and down the long street, while the village curs made themselves +conspicuous barking at their heels.</p> + +<p>'I hope you will always make use of me in this way,' said Dr. Heriot, as +he shook Mildred's wet cloak, and ushered them into the hall; 'the rain +has damped you already, but I hope it is only a passing shower for the +little rush-bearers' sakes to-morrow.'</p> + +<p>'The barometer points to fair,' observed Polly, anxiously.</p> + +<p>'Yes, and this shower will do all the good in the world, lay the dust, +and render your long drive enjoyable. Ah! Miss Lambert, you have found +out why Olive honours me by so many visits,' as Mildred glanced round +the large handsome hall, fitted up by glass bookcases; and with its +carpeted floor and round table, and brackets of blue dragon china +looking thoroughly comfortable.</p> + +<p>'This is my dining-room and consulting-room; my surgery is elsewhere,' +continued Dr. Heriot. 'My drawing-room is so little used, that I am +afraid Marjory often forgets to draw up the blinds.' And he showed +Mildred the low-ceiled pleasant rooms, well-furnished, and tastefully +arranged; but the drawing-room having the bare disused air of a room +that a woman's footstep seldom enters. Mildred longed to droop the +curtain into less stiff folds, and to fill the empty vases with flowers.</p> + +<p>Polly spoke out her thought immediately afterwards.</p> + +<p>'I mean to come in every morning on my way to school, and pull up the +blinds, and fill that china bowl with roses. Marjory won't mind anything +I do.'</p> + +<p>'Your labour will be wasted, Polly,' returned her guardian, rather +sadly. 'No one but Mrs. Sadler, or Miss Ortolan, or perhaps Mrs. +Northcote, ever sits on that yellow couch. Your roses would waste their +sweetness on the desert air; no one would look at them, or smell them; +but it is a kind thought, little one,' with a gentle, approving smile.</p> + +<p>'Which room was the scene of Polly's feast?' asked Mildred, curiously.</p> + +<p>'Oh, the den—I mean the room I generally inhabit; it is snug, and opens +into the conservatory; and I have grown to like it somehow. Now, Polly, +you must make us some tea; but the question is, will you favour the +yellow couch and the empty rose-bowls, Miss Lambert, or do you prefer +the dining-room?'</p> + +<p>'Dr. Heriot, what do you mean by treating Aunt Milly so stiffly? of +course we shall have tea in the den, as usual.' But he interrupted her +by a brief whisper in her ear, which made her laugh and clap her hands. +Evidently there was some delightful secret between them, for Polly's +eyes sparkled as she stood holding his arm with both hands; and even Dr. +Heriot's twinkled with amusement.</p> + +<p>'Miss Lambert, Polly wants to know if you can keep a secret? I don't +think you look dangerous, so you shall be shown the mystery of the den.'</p> + +<p>'Does Olive know?' asked Mildred, looking at the girl as she sat +hunching her shoulders, as usual, over a book.</p> + +<p>'Yes, but she does not approve. Olive never approves of anything nice,' +returned Polly, saucily. 'Let us go very quietly; he generally whistles +so loudly that he never hears anything;' and as Polly softly opened the +door, very clear, sweet whistling was distinctly audible.</p> + +<p>There was a little glass-house beyond the cosy room they were entering; +and there, amongst flowers and canaries, and gaily-striped awning, in +his old blue cricketing coat, was Roy painting.</p> + +<p>Dr. Heriot beckoned Mildred to come nearer, and she had ample leisure to +admire the warm sunshiny tints of a small landscape, to which he was +putting finishing touches, until the melodious whistling ceased, and an +exclamation of delight from Polly made him turn round.</p> + +<p>'Aunt Milly, this is too bad; you have stolen a march on me;' and Roy's +fair face was suffused for a moment. 'I owe Dr. John a grudge for this,' +threatening him with his palette and brush.</p> + +<p>Polly could not resist the pleasure of showing her aunt the mysteries of +Bluebeard's den. 'When you miss your boy, you will know where to find +him in future, Miss Lambert.'</p> + +<p>'Roy, dear, you must not be vexed. I had no idea Polly's secret had +anything to do with you,' said Mildred, gently. 'Dr. Heriot is very good +to allow you to make use of this pleasant studio.'</p> + +<p>Roy's brow cleared like magic.</p> + +<p>'I am glad you think so. I was only afraid you would talk nonsense, as +Livy does, about waste of time, and hiding talents under a bushel. +Holloa, Livy, I did not know you were there; no offence intended; but +you do talk an awful quantity of rubbish sometimes.'</p> + +<p>'I only said it was a pity you did not tell papa about it; your being an +artist, I mean,' answered Olive, mildly; but Roy interrupted her +impatiently.</p> + +<p>'You know I cannot bear disappointing him, but of course it has to be +told. Aunt Milly, do you think my father would ask Dad Fabian down to +see Polly? I should so like to have a talk with him. You see, Dr. John +is only an amateur; he cannot tell me if I am ever likely to be an +artist,' finished Roy, a little despondingly.</p> + +<p>'I am not much of a critic, but I like your picture, Roy; it looks so +fresh and sunny. I could almost feel as though I were sitting down on +that mossy bank; and that little girl in her red cloak is charming.'</p> + +<p>Roy coloured bashfully over the praise.</p> + +<p>'I tell him that with his few advantages he does wonders; he has only +picked up desultory lessons here and there,' observed Dr. Heriot.</p> + +<p>'That old fellow at Sedbergh taught me to grind colours, and I fell in +with an artist at York once. I don't mind you knowing a bit, Aunt Milly; +only'—lowering his voice so as not to be heard by the others—'I want +to get an opinion worth having, and be sure I am not only the dabbler +Dick thinks me, before I bother the Padre about it; but I shall do no +good at anything else, let Dick say what he will;' a touch of defiance +and hopelessness in his voice, very different from his ordinary saucy +manners. Evidently Roy was in earnest for once in his life.</p> + +<p>'You are quite right, Roy; it is the most beautiful life in the world,' +broke in Polly, enthusiastically. 'It is nobler to try at that and fail, +than to be the most successful lawyer in the world.'</p> + +<p>'The gentlemen of the robe would thank you, Polly. Do you know, I have a +great respect for a learned barrister.'</p> + +<p>'All that Polly knows about them is, they wear a wig and carry a blue +bag,' observed Roy, with one of his odd chuckles.</p> + +<p>'What a Bohemian you are, Polly.'</p> + +<p>'I like what is best and brightest and most loveable in life,' returned +Polly, undauntedly. 'I think you are an artist by nature, because you +care so much for beautiful scenery, and are so quick to see different +shades and tints of colouring. Dad Fabian is older, and grander, +far—but you talk a little like him, Roy; your words have the same ring, +somehow.'</p> + +<p>'Polly is a devout believer in Roy's capabilities,' observed Dr. Heriot, +half-seriously and half-laughing. 'You are fortunate, Roy, to have +inspired so much faith already; it must warm up your landscapes and +brighten your horizons for you. After all, there is nothing like +sympathy in this world,' with a scarcely audible sigh.</p> + +<p>'Dr. Heriot, tea is ready,' broke in Polly, with one of her quick +transitions from enthusiasm to matter-of-fact reality, as she moved as +though by right to her place at the head of the table, and looked as +though she expected her guardian to seat himself as usual beside her; +while Dr. Heriot drew up a comfortable rocking-chair for Mildred. +Certainly the den presented a cheerful aspect to-night; the little +glass-house, as Dr. Heriot generally termed it, with its easel and +flowers, and its pleasant glimpse of the narrow garden and blue hills +behind, looked picturesque in the afternoon light; the rain had ceased, +the canaries burst into loud song, there was a delicious fragrance of +verbena and heliotrope; Roy stretched his lazy length on the little red +couch, his fair head in marked contrast with Mildred's brown coils; a +great crimson-hearted rose lay beside her plate.</p> + +<p>Dr. Heriot's den certainly lacked no visible comfort; there were +easy-chairs for lounging, small bookcases filled with favourite books, a +writing-table, and a marble stand, with a silver reading-lamp, that gave +the softest possible light; one or two choice prints enlivened the +walls. Dr. Heriot evidently kept up a luxurious bachelor's life, for the +table was covered with good things; and Mildred ventured to praise the +excellent Westmorland cakes.</p> + +<p>'Marjory makes better girdle-cakes than Nan,' observed Polly. 'Do you +know what my guardian calls them, Aunt Milly?'</p> + +<p>'You should allow Miss Lambert to finish hers first,' remonstrated Dr. +Heriot.</p> + +<p>'He calls them "sudden deaths."'</p> + +<p>'Miss Lambert is looking quite pale, and laying down hers. I must help +myself to some to reassure her;' and Dr. Heriot suited his action to his +words. 'I perfectly scandalise Marjory by telling her they are very +unwholesome, but she only says, "Hod tongue o' ye, doctor; t' kyuks are +au weel enuff; en'ill hurt nin o' ye, if y'ill tak 'em i' moderation."'</p> + +<p>'I think Marjory is much of a muchness with Nan in point of obstinacy.'</p> + +<p>'Nan's habits bewilder me,' observed Mildred. 'She eats so little flesh +meat, as she calls it; and whatever time I go into the kitchen, she +seems perpetually at tea.'</p> + +<p>'Ay, four o'clock tea is the great meal of the day; the servants +certainly care very little for meat here. I am often surprised, when I +go into the cottages, to see the number of cakes just freshly baked; it +is the most tempting meal they have. The girdle-cakes, and the little +black teapot on the hob, and not unfrequently a great pile of brown +toast, have often struck me as so appetising after a cold, wet ride, +that I have often shared a bit and a sup with them. Have you ever heard +of Kendal wigs, Miss Lambert?'</p> + +<p>Mildred shook her head.</p> + +<p>'They are very favourite cakes. Many a farmer's wife on a market-day +thinks her purchases incomplete without bringing home a goodly quantity +of wigs. I am rather fond of them myself. All my oat-bread, or +havre-bread as they call it, is sent me by an old patient who lives at +Kendal. Do you know there is a quaint proverb, very much used here, "as +crafty as a Kendal fox"?'</p> + +<p>'What is the origin of that?' asked Mildred, much amused.</p> + +<p>'Well, it is doubtful. It may owe its origin to some sly old Reynard who +in days long since "escaped the hunter many times and oft;" or it might +possibly originate in some family of the name of Fox living at Kendal, +and noted for their business habits and prudence. There are two proverbs +peculiar to this country.'</p> + +<p>'You mean the Pendragon one,' observed Roy.</p> + +<p>'Yes.'</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Let Uter Pendragon do what he can,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eden will run where Eden ran.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>'You look mystified, Miss Lambert; but at Pendragon Castle in +Mallerstang there may still be seen traces of an attempt to turn the +waters of Eden from their natural and wonted channel, and cause them to +flow round the castle and fill the moat.'</p> + +<p>'How curious!'</p> + +<p>'Proverbs have been rightly defined "as the wisdom of the many and the +wit of one." In one particular I believe this saying has a deep truth +hidden in it. One who has studied the Westmorland character, says that +its meaning is, that the people living on the banks of the Eden are as +firm and persevering in their own way as the river itself; and that when +they have once made up their minds as to what is their duty, all +attempts to turn them aside from walking in the right way and doing +their duty are equally futile.'</p> + +<p>'Hurrah for the Edenites!' exclaimed Roy, enthusiastically. 'I don't +believe there is a county in England to beat Westmorland.'</p> + +<p>'I must tell you what a quaint old writer says of it. "Here is cold +comfort from nature," he writes, "but somewhat of warmth from industry: +that the land is barren is God's good pleasure; the people painful +(<i>i.e.</i> painstaking), their praise." But I am afraid I must not +enlighten your minds any more on proverbial philosophy, as it is time +for me to set off on my evening round. A doctor can use scant ceremony, +Miss Lambert.'</p> + +<p>'It is time you dismissed us,' returned Mildred, rising; 'we have +trespassed too long on your time already;' but, in spite of her efforts, +she failed to collect her party. Only Olive accompanied her home. Roy +returned to his painting and whistling, and Polly stayed behind to water +the flowers and keep him company.</p> + +<p>The next day proved fine and cloudless, and at the appointed time the +old vicarage wagonette started off, with its bevy of boys and girls, +with Mildred to act as <i>chaperone</i>.</p> + +<p>Mildred was loath to leave her brother alone for so long a day, but Dr. +Heriot promised to look in on him, and bring her a report in the +afternoon.</p> + +<p>The drive to Castlesteads was a long one, but Roy was in one of his +absurd moods, and Polly and he kept up a lively exchange of <i>repartee</i> +and jest, which amused the rest of the party. On their way they passed +Musgrave, the church and vicarage lying pleasantly in the green meadows, +on the very banks of the Eden; but Roy snorted contemptuously over +Mildred's admiring exclamation—</p> + +<p>'It looks very pretty from this distance, and would make a tolerable +picture; and I don't deny the walk by the river-bank is pleasant enough +in summer-time, but you would be sorry to live there all the year round, +Aunt Milly.'</p> + +<p>'Is the vicarage so comfortless, then?'</p> + +<p>'Vicarage! It is little better than a cottage. It is positively bare, +and mean, miserable little wainscoted rooms looking on a garden full of +currant-bushes and London-pride. In winter the river floods the meadows, +and comes up to the sitting-room window; just a place for rheumatism and +agues and low fevers. I wonder Mr. Wigram can endure it!'</p> + +<p>'There are the Northcotes overtaking us, Cardie,' interrupted Chriss, +eagerly; 'give the browns a touch-up; I don't want them to pass us.'</p> + +<p>Richard did as he was requested, and the browns evidently resenting the +liberty, there was soon a good distance between the two wagonettes; and +shortly afterwards the pretty little village of Castlesteads came in +sight, with its beeches and white cottages and tall May-pole.</p> + +<p>'There is no time to be lost, Cardie. I can hear the band already. We +must make straight for the park.'</p> + +<p>'We had better get down and walk, then, while George sees to the horses, +or we shall lose the procession. Come, Aunt Milly, we are a little late, +I am afraid; and we must introduce you to Mrs. Chesterton of the Hall in +due form.'</p> + +<p>Mildred obeyed, and the little party hurried along the road, where knots +of gaily-dressed people were already stationed to catch the first +glimpse of the rush-bearers. The park gates were wide open, and a group +of ladies, with a tolerable sprinkling of gentlemen, were gathered under +the shady trees.</p> + +<p>Mr. Delaware came striding across the grass in his cassock, with his +college cap in his hand.</p> + +<p>'You are only just in time,' he observed, shaking hands cordially with +Mildred; 'the children are turning the corner by the schools. I must go +and meet them. Susie, will you introduce Miss Lambert to these ladies?'</p> + +<p>Mrs. Chesterton of the Hall was a large, placid-looking woman, with a +motherly, benevolent face; she was talking to a younger lady, in very +fashionable attire, whom Mrs. Delaware whispered was Mrs. de Courcy, of +the Grange: her husband, Major de Courcy, was at a little distance, with +Mr. Chesterton and the Trelawnys.</p> + +<p>Mildred had just time to bow to Ethel, when the loud, inspiriting blare +of brazen instruments was heard outside the park gates. There was a +burst of joyous music, and a faint sound of cheering, and then came the +procession of children, with their white frocks and triumphant crowns.</p> + +<p>The real garland used for the rush-bearing is of the shape of the old +coronation crowns, and was formerly so large that it was borne by each +child on a cushion; and even at the present time it was too weighty an +ornament to be worn with comfort.</p> + +<p>One little maiden had recourse to her mother's support, and many a +little hand went up to steady the uneasy diadem.</p> + +<p>Mildred, who had never seen such a sight, was struck with the beauty and +variety of the crowns. Some were of brilliant scarlet and white, such as +covered May Chesterton's fair curls; others were of softer violet. One +was of beautifully-shaped roses; and another and humbler one of +heliotrope and large-eyed pansies. Even the cottage garlands were woven +with taste and fancy. One of the poorest children, gleaning in lanes and +fields, had formed her crown wholly of buttercups and ox-eyed daisies, +and wore it proudly.</p> + +<p>A lame boy, who had joined the procession, carried his garland in the +shape of a large cross, which he held aloft. Mildred watched the bright +colours of moving flowers through the trees, and listened to the music +half-dreamily, until Richard touched her arms.</p> + +<p>'Every one is following the procession. You will lose the prettiest part +of the whole, if you stand here, Aunt Milly; the children always have a +dance before they go into church.' And so saying, he piloted her through +the green park in the direction of the crowd.</p> + +<p>By and by, they came to a little strip of lawn, pleasantly shaded by +trees, and here they found the rush-bearers drawn up in line, with the +crowns at their feet; the sun was shining, the butterflies flitted over +the children's heads, the music struck up gaily, the garlands lay in +purple and crimson splashes of colour on the green sward.</p> + +<p>'Wouldn't it make a famous picture?' whispered Roy, eagerly. 'I should +like to paint it, and send it to the Royal Academy—"The Westmorland +Rush-bearing." Doesn't May look a perfect fairy in her white dress, with +her curls falling over her neck? That rogue of a Claude has chosen her +for his partner. There, they are going to have lemonade and cake, and +then they will "trip on the light, fantastic toe," till the church bells +ring;' but Mildred was too much absorbed to answer. The play of light +and shadow, the shifting colours, the children's innocent faces and +joyous laughter, the gaping rustics on the outside of the circle, +charmed and interested her. She was sorry when the picture was broken +up, and Mr. Delaware and the other clergy formed the children into an +orderly procession again.</p> + +<p>Mildred and Richard were the last to enter the church, but Miss Trelawny +made room for them beside her. The pretty little church was densely +crowded, and there was quite an inspiring array of clergy and choristers +when the processional hymn was sung. Mr. Delaware gave an appropriate +and very eloquent address, and during a pause in the service the +church-wardens collected the garlands from the children, which were +placed by the officiating priest and the assistant clergy on the +altar-steps, or on the sloping sills of the chancel windows, or even on +the floor of the sanctuary itself, the sunshine lighting up with vivid +hues the many-coloured crowns.</p> + +<p>These were left until the following day, when they were placed on a +frame made for the purpose at the other end of the church, and there +they hung until the next rush-bearing day; the brown drooping leaves and +faded flowers bearing solemn witness of the mutability and decay of all +earthly things.</p> + +<p>But as Mildred looked at the altar-steps, crowded with the fragrant and +innocent offerings of the children, so solemnly blessed and accepted, +and heard the fresh young voices lifted up in the crowning hymn of +praise, there came to her remembrance some lines she had heard sung in +an old city church, when the broidered bags, full of rich offerings, had +been laid on the altar:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Holy offerings rich and rare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Offerings of praise and prayer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Purer life and purpose high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clasped hands and lifted eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lowly acts of adoration<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the God of our salvation.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On His altar laid we leave them,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Christ present them! God receive them!'<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<h3>AN AFTERNOON IN CASTLESTEADS</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'The fields were all i' vapour veil'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till, while the warm, breet rays assail'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Up fled the leet, grey mist.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The flowers expanded one by one,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As fast as the refreshing sun<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their dewy faces kiss'd.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'And pleasure danced i' mony an e'e<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' mony a heart, wi' mirth and glee<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thus flutter'd and excited—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' this was t' cause, ye'll understand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some friends a grand picnic had plann'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' they had been invited.'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Tom Twisleton's Poems in the Craven Dialect.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>It had been arranged that Mildred should form one of the luncheon-party +at the vicarage, and that Richard should accompany her, while the rest +of the young people were regaled at the Hall, where pretty May +Chesterton held a sort of court.</p> + +<p>The pleasant old vicarage was soon crowded with gaily-dressed +guests—amongst them Mr. Trelawny and his daughter, and the Heaths of +Brough.</p> + +<p>Mildred, who had a predilection for old houses, found the vicarage much +to her taste; she liked the quaint dimly-lighted rooms, with their deep +embrasures, forming small inner rooms—while every window looked on the +trim lawn and churchyard.</p> + +<p>At luncheon she found herself under Mr. Delaware's special supervision, +and soon had abundant opportunity of admiring the straightforward common +sense and far-seeing views that had gained him universal esteem; he was +evidently no mean scholar, but what struck Mildred was the simplicity +and reticence that veiled his vast knowledge and made him an +appreciative listener. Miss Trelawny, who was seated at his right hand, +monopolised the greater share of his attentions, and Mildred fancied +that her <i>naļveté</i> and freshness were highly attractive, as every now +and then an amused smile crossed his face.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Delaware bloomed at them from the end of the table. She was rather +more quietly dressed and looked prettier than ever, but Mildred noticed +that the uneasy look, of which Richard had spoken, crossed her husband's +face, as her voice, by no means gently modulated, reached his ears; +evidently he had a vexed sort of affection for the happy dimpling +creature, who offended all his pet prejudices, wounded his too sensitive +refinement, and disturbed the established <i>régime</i> of his scholarly +life.</p> + +<p>Susie's creams and roses were unimpeachable, and her voice had the clear +freshness of a lark, but dearly as he might love her, she could hardly +be a companion to her husband in his higher moods—the keynote of +sympathy must be wanting between this strangely-assorted couple, Mildred +thought, and she wondered if any vague regrets for that youthful romance +of his marred the possible harmonies of the present.</p> + +<p>Would not a richly-cultivated mind like Ethel Trelawny's, for example, +with strong original bias and all kinds of motiveless asceticism, have +accorded better with his notions of womanly perfection, the classic +features and low-pitched voice gaining by contrast with Susie's loud +tuneful key and waste of bloom?</p> + +<p>By an odd coincidence Mildred found herself alone with Mrs. Delaware +after luncheon; the other ladies had already gone over to the park with +the vicar, but his wife, who had been detained by some unavoidable +business, had asked Mildred to wait for her.</p> + +<p>Presently she appeared flushed and radiant.</p> + +<p>'It is so good of you to wait, Miss Lambert; Stephen is so particular, +and I was afraid things might go wrong as they did last year; I suppose +he has gone on with the others.'</p> + +<p>'Yes.'</p> + +<p>'And Miss Trelawny?'</p> + +<p>'I believe so.'</p> + +<p>Mrs. Delaware's bright face fell a little.</p> + +<p>'Miss Trelawny is a rare talker, at least Stephen says so; but I never +understand whether she is in fun or earnest; she must be clever, though, +or Stephen would not say so much in her praise.'</p> + +<p>'I think she amuses him.'</p> + +<p>'Stephen does not care for amusement, he is always so terribly in +earnest. Sometimes they talk for hours, till my head quite aches with +listening to them. Do you think women ought to be so clever, Miss +Lambert?' continued Susie, a little wistfully; and Mildred thought what +a sweet face she had, and wondered less over Mr. Delaware's +choice—after all, blue eyes, when they are clear and loving, have a +potent charm of their own.</p> + +<p>'I do not know that Miss Trelawny is so very clever,' she returned; 'she +is original, but not quite restful; I could understand that she would +tire most men.'</p> + +<p>'But not men like my Stephen,' betraying in her simplicity some hidden +irritation.</p> + +<p>'Possibly not for an hour or two, only by continuance. The cleverest man +I ever knew,' continued Mildred artfully, 'married a woman without an +idea beyond housekeeping; he was an astronomer, and she used to sit +working beside him, far into the night, while he carried on his abstruse +calculations; he was a handsome man, and she was quite ordinary-looking, +but they were the happiest couple I ever knew.'</p> + +<p>'Maybe she loved him dearly,' returned Susie simply, but Mildred saw a +glittering drop or two on her long eyelashes; and just then they reached +the park gates, where they found Mr. Delaware waiting for them.</p> + +<p>The park now presented a gay aspect, the sun shone on the old Hall and +its trimly-kept gardens, its parterres blazing with scarlet geraniums, +and verbenas, and heliotropes, and its shady winding walks full of happy +groups.</p> + +<p>On the lawn before the Hall the band was playing, and rustic couples +were already arranging themselves for the dance, tea was brewing in the +great white tent, with its long tables groaning with good cheer, +children were playing amongst the trees; in the meadow below the sports +were held—the hound trail, pole-leaping, long-leaping, trotting-matches +and wrestling filling up the afternoon.</p> + +<p>Mildred was watching the dancers when she heard herself accosted by +name; there was no mistaking those crisp tones, they could belong to no +other than Ethel Trelawny.</p> + +<p>Miss Trelawny was looking remarkably well to-day, her cheeks had a soft +bloom, and the rippling dark-brown hair strayed most becomingly from +under the little white bonnet; she looked brighter, happier, more +animated.</p> + +<p>'I thought you were busy in the tent, Miss Trelawny.'</p> + +<p>Ethel laughed.</p> + +<p>'I gave up my place to Mrs. Cooper; it is too much to expect any one to +remain in that stiffling place four mortal hours; just fancy, Miss +Lambert, tea commences at 2 <span class="smcap">P.M.</span> and goes on till 6.'</p> + +<p>'I pity the tea-makers; Mrs. Delaware is one of course.'</p> + +<p>'She is far from cool, but perfectly happy. Mrs. Delaware's table is +always crowded, mine was so empty that I gave it up to Mrs. Cooper in +disgust. Mr. Delaware will give me a scolding for deserting my post, but +I daresay I shall survive it. How cool it is under these trees; shall we +walk a little?'</p> + +<p>'If you like; but I enjoy watching those dancers.'</p> + +<p>'Distance will lend enchantment to the view—there is no poetry of +movement there;' pointing a little disdainfully to a clumsy bumpkin who +was violently impelling a full-blown rustic beauty through the mazes of +a waltz.</p> + +<p>'What is lost in grace is made up in heartiness,' returned Mildred, bent +on defending her favourite pastime. 'Look how lightly and well that girl +in the lilac muslin is dancing; she would hardly disgrace a ballroom.'</p> + +<p>'She looks very happy,' returned Ethel, a little enviously; 'she is one +of Mr. Delaware's favourite scholars, and I think she is engaged to that +young farmer with whom she is dancing; by the bye, have you seen Dr. +Heriot?'</p> + +<p>'No. I did not know he was here.'</p> + +<p>'He was in the tent just now looking for you. He said he had promised to +report himself as soon as he arrived. He found fault with the cup of tea +I gave him, and then he and Richard went off together.'</p> + +<p>Mildred smiled; she thought she knew the reason why Miss Trelawny looked +so animated. She knew Dr. Heriot was a great favourite up at +Kirkleatham, in spite of the many battles that were waged between him +and Ethel; somehow she felt glad herself that Dr. Heriot had come.</p> + +<p>Following Miss Trelawny's lead, they had crossed the park and the +pleasure garden, and were now in a little grove skirting the fields, +which led to a lonely summer-house, set in the heart of the green +meadows, with an enchanting view of the blue hills beyond.</p> + +<p>'What a lovely spot,' observed Mildred.</p> + +<p>'Here would my hermit spirit dwell apart,' laughed Ethel. 'What a sense +of freedom those wide hills give one. I am glad you like it,' she +continued, more simply. 'I brought you here because I saw you cared for +these sort of things.'</p> + +<p>'Most people care for a beautiful prospect.'</p> + +<p>'Yes; but theirs is mere surface admiration—yours goes deeper. Do you +know, Miss Lambert, I was wondering all luncheon time why you always +look so restful and contented?'</p> + +<p>'Perhaps because I am so,' returned Mildred, smiling.</p> + +<p>'Yes, but you have known trouble; your face says so plainly; there are +lines that have no business to be there; in some things you are older +than your age.'</p> + +<p>'You are a keen observer, Miss Trelawny.'</p> + +<p>'Do not answer me like that,' she returned, a little hurt; 'you are so +earnest yourself that you ought to allow for earnestness in others. I +knew directly I heard your voice that I should like you; does my +frankness displease you?' turning on her abruptly.</p> + +<p>'On the contrary, it pleases me!' replied Mildred, but she blushed a +little under the scrutiny of this strange girl.</p> + +<p>'You are undemonstrative, so am I to most people; but directly I saw +your face and heard you speak I knew yours was a true nature, and I was +anxious to win you for my friend; you do not know how sadly I want one,' +she continued, her voice trembling a little. 'One cannot live without +sympathy.'</p> + +<p>'It is not meant that we should do so,' returned Mildred, softly.</p> + +<p>'I believe mine to be an almost isolated case,' returned Ethel. 'No +mother, no——' she checked herself, turned pale and hurried on, 'with +only a childlike memory of what brother-love really is, and a faint-off +remembrance of a little white wasted face resting on a pillow strewn +with lilies. I was very young then, but I remember how I cried when they +told me my baby-sister was an angel in heaven.'</p> + +<p>'How old were you when your brothers died?' asked Mildred, gently. +Ethel's animation had died away, and a look of deep sadness now crossed +her face.</p> + +<p>'I was only ten, Rupert was twelve, and Sidney fourteen; such fine manly +boys, Sid. especially, and so good to me. Mamma never got over their +death; and then I lost her; it seems so lonely their leaving me behind. +Sometimes I wonder for what purpose I am left, and if I have much to +suffer before I am allowed to join them?' and Ethel's eyes grew fixed +and dreamy, till Mildred's sympathetic voice roused her.</p> + +<p>'I should think nothing can replace a brother. When I was young I used +to wish I were one of a large family. I remember envying a girl who told +me she had seven sisters.'</p> + +<p>Ethel looked up with a melancholy smile.</p> + +<p>'I wonder what it would be like to have a sister? I mean if Ella had +lived—she would be sixteen now. I used to have all sorts of strange +fancies about her when I was a child. Mamma once read me Longfellow's +poem of <i>Resignation</i>, and it made a great impression on me. You +remember the words, Miss Lambert?' and Ethel repeated in her fresh sweet +voice—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'"Not as a child shall we again behold her,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For when with raptures wild,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In our embraces we again enfold her,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She will not be a child.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"But a fair maiden in her Father's mansion,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Clothed with celestial grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And beautiful with all the soul's expansion<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall we behold her face."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>That image of progressive beatitude and expanding youth seized strongly +upon my childish imagination.' Mildred's smile was a sufficient answer, +and Ethel went on in the same dreamy tone, 'After a time the little dead +face became less distinct, and in its place I became conscious of a +strange feeling, of a new sort of sister-love. I thought of Ella growing +up in heaven, not learning the painful lessons I was so wearily learning +here, but schooled by angels in the nobler mysteries of love; and so +strong was this belief, that when I was naughty or had given way to +temper, I would cry myself to sleep, thinking that Ella would be +disappointed in me, and often I did not dare look up at the stars for +fear her eyes should be sorrowfully looking down on me. You will think +me a fanciful visionary, Miss Lambert, but this childish thought has +been my safeguard in many an hour of temptation.'</p> + +<p>'I would all our fancies were as pure. You need not fear that I should +laugh at you as visionary, my dear Miss Trelawny; after all you may have +laid your grasp on a great truth—there can be nothing undeveloped and +imperfect in heaven, and infancy is necessarily imperfect.'</p> + +<p>'I never sympathised with the crude fancies of the old masters,' +returned Miss Trelawny; 'the winged heads of their bodiless cherubs are +as unsatisfactory and impalpable as Homer's flitting shades and +shivering ghosts; but your last speech has chilled me somehow.'</p> + +<p>Mildred looked up in surprise; but Ethel's smile reassured her.</p> + +<p>'No one but my father ever calls me Ethel—to the world I am Miss +Trelawny, even Olive and Chriss are ceremonious, and latterly Mr. +Lambert has dropped the old familiar term; somehow it adds to one's +feeling of loneliness.'</p> + +<p>'Do you mean that you wish me to drop such ceremony?' returned Mildred, +laughing a little nervously. 'Ethel! it is a quaint name, hardly +musical, and with a suspicion of a lisp, but full of character; it suits +you somehow.'</p> + +<p>'Then you will use it!' exclaimed Ethel impulsively. 'We are strangers, +and yet I have talked to you this afternoon as I have never done to any +one before.'</p> + +<p>'There you pay me a compliment.'</p> + +<p>'You have such a motherly way with you, Mildred—Miss Lambert, I mean.'</p> + +<p>Mildred blushed, 'Please do not correct yourself.'</p> + +<p>'What! I may call you Mildred? how nice that will be; I shall feel as +though you are some wise elder sister, you have got such tender +old-fashioned ways, and yet they suit you somehow. I like you better, I +think, because there seems nothing young about you.'</p> + +<p>Ethel's speech gave Mildred a little pang—unselfish and free from +vanity as her nature was, she was still only a woman, and regret for her +passing youth shadowed her brightness for a moment. Until her mother's +death she had never given it a thought. Why did Ethel's fresh beauty and +glorious young vitality raise the faint wish, now heard for the first +time, that she were more like the youthful and fairer Mildred of long +ago? but even before Ethel had finished speaking, the unworthy thought +was banished.</p> + +<p>'I believe a wearing and long-continued trouble ages more than years; +women have no right to grow sober before thirty, I know. Some lighter +natures go haymaking between the tombs,' she went on quaintly, and as +Ethel looked up astonished at the strange simile—'I have borrowed my +metaphor from a homely circumstance, but as I sat working in the cool +lobby yesterday they were making hay in the sunny churchyard, and +somehow the idea seemed incongruous—the idea of gleaning sweetness and +nourishment from decay. But does it not strike you we are becoming very +philosophical—what are the little rush-bearers doing now I wonder?'</p> + +<p>'After all, your human sympathies are less exclusive than mine,' +returned her companion, regretfully. 'I like this cool retreat better +than the crowded park; but we are not to be left any longer in peace,' +she continued, with a slight access of colour, 'there are Dr. Heriot and +Richard bearing down on us.' Mildred was not sorry to be disturbed, as +she thought it was high time to look after Olive and Chriss, an +intention that Dr. Heriot instantly negatived by placing himself at her +side.</p> + +<p>'There is not the slightest necessity—they are under Mrs. Chesterton's +wing,' he remarked coolly; 'we have been searching the park and grounds +fruitlessly for an hour, till Richard hit on this spot; the hiding-place +is worthy of Miss Trelawny.'</p> + +<p>'You mean it is romantic enough; your words have a double edge, Dr. +Heriot.'</p> + +<p>'Pax,' he returned, laughingly, 'it is too hot to renew the skirmish we +carried on in the tent. I have brought you a favourable report of your +brother, Miss Lambert; Mr. Warden, an old college chum of his, had +arrived unexpectedly, and he was showing him the church.'</p> + +<p>One of Mildred's sweet smiles flitted over her face.</p> + +<p>'How good you are to take all this trouble for me, Dr. Heriot.'</p> + +<p>Dr. Heriot gave her an inscrutable look in which drollery came +uppermost.</p> + +<p>'Are you given to weigh fractional kindnesses in your neighbour? Most +people give gratitude in grains for whole ounces of avoirdupois weight; +what a grateful soul yours is, Miss Lambert.'</p> + +<p>'The moral being that Dr. Heriot dislikes thanks, Mildred.'</p> + +<p>Dr. Heriot gave a low exclamation of surprise, which evidently irritated +Miss Trelawny. 'It has come to that already, has it,' he said to himself +with an inward chuckle, but Mildred could make nothing of his look of +satisfaction and Ethel's aggravated colour.</p> + +<p>'Why don't you deliver us one of your favourite tirades against feminine +caprice and impulse?' observed Miss Trelawny, in a piqued voice.</p> + +<p>'When caprice and impulse take the form of wisdom,' was the answer in a +meaning tone, 'Mentor's office of rebuke fails.'</p> + +<p>Ethel arched her eyebrows slightly, 'Mentor approves then?'</p> + +<p>'Can you doubt it?' in a more serious tone. 'I feel we may still have +hopes of you;' then turning to Mildred, with the play of fun still in +his eyes, 'Our aside baffles you, Miss Lambert. Miss Trelawny is good +enough to style me her Mentor, which means that she has given me a right +to laugh at her nonsense and talk sense to her sometimes.'</p> + +<p>'You are too bad,' returned Ethel in a low voice; but she was evidently +hurt by the raillery, gentle as it was.</p> + +<p>'Miss Trelawny forms such extravagant ideals of men and women, that no +one but a moral Anak can possibly reach to her standard; the rest of us +have to stand tiptoe in the vain effort to raise ourselves.'</p> + +<p>'Dr. Heriot, how can you be so absurd?' laughed Mildred.</p> + +<p>'It must be very fatiguing to stand on tiptoe all one's life; perhaps we +might feel a difficulty of breathing in your rarer atmosphere, Miss +Trelawny—fancy one's ideas being always in full dress, from morning to +night. When you marry, do you always mean to dish up philosophy with +your husband's breakfast?'</p> + +<p>The hot colour mounted to Ethel's forehead.</p> + +<p>'I give you warning that he will yawn over it sometimes, and refresh +himself by talking to his dogs; even Bayard, that peerless knight, <i>sans +peur</i> and <i>sans reproche</i>, could be a little sulky at times, you may +depend on it!'</p> + +<p>'Bayard is not my hero now,' she returned, trying to pluck up a little +spirit with which to answer him. 'I have decided lately in favour of Sir +Philip Sidney, as my beau-ideal of an English gentleman.'</p> + +<p>'Rex and I chose him for our favourite ages ago,' observed Richard +eagerly, who until now had remained silent.</p> + +<p>'Yes,' continued Ethel, enthusiastically, 'that one act of unselfishness +has invested him with the reverence of centuries; can you not fancy the +awful temptation, Mildred—the death thirst under the scorching sun, the +unendurable agony of untended wounds, the cup of cold water, just tasted +and refused for the sake of the poor wretch lying beside him; one could +lay down one's life for such a man as that!'</p> + +<p>'Yes, it was a gentlemanly action,' observed Dr. Heriot, coolly; and as +Ethel's face expressed resentment at the phrase, 'have you ever thought +how much is comprehended under the term gentleman? To me the word is +fuller and more comprehensive than that of hero; your heroes are such +noisy fellows; there is always a sound of the harp, sackbut, psaltery, +and dulcimer about them; and they pass their life in fitting their +attitudes to their pedestal.'</p> + +<p>'Dr. John is riding one of his favourite hobbies,' observed Richard, in +a low voice. 'Never mind, he admires Sir Philip as much as we do!'</p> + +<p>'True, Cardie; but though I do not deny the heroism of the act, I +maintain that many a man in his place would do the same thing. Have we +no stories of heroism in our Crimean annals? Amongst the hideous details +of the Indian mutiny were there no deeds that might match that of the +dying soldier at Zutphen?'</p> + +<p>'Perhaps so; but all the same I have a right to my own ideal.'</p> + +<p>A mocking smile swept over Dr. Heriot's face.</p> + +<p>'Virtue in an Elizabethan ruff surpasses virtue clad in nineteenth +century broadcloth and fustian. I suspect even in your favourite Sir +Philip's case distance lends enchantment to the view; he wrote very +sweetly on Arcadia, but who knows but a twinge of the gout may not have +made him cross?'</p> + +<p>'How you persist in misunderstanding me,' returned Ethel, with a touch +of feeling in her voice. 'I suppose as usual I have brought this upon +myself, but why will you believe that I am so hard to please? After all +you are right; Bayard and Sir Philip Sidney are only typical characters +of their day; there must be great men even in this generation.'</p> + +<p>'There are downright honest men—men who are not ashamed to confess to +flaws and inconsistencies, and possible twinges of gout.'</p> + +<p>'There you spoil all,' said Mildred, with an amused look; but Dr. +Heriot's mischievous mood was not to be restrained.</p> + +<p>'One of these honest fellows with a tolerably tough will, and not an +ounce of imagination in his whole composition—positively of the earth, +earthy—will strike the right chord that is to bring Hermione from off +her pedestal—don't frown, Miss Trelawny; you may depend upon it those +old Turks were right, and there is a fate in these things.'</p> + +<p>Ethel curved her long neck superbly, and turned with a slightly +contemptuous expression to Richard: her patience was exhausted.</p> + +<p>'I think my father will be wondering what has become of me; will you +take me to him?'</p> + +<p>'There they go, Ethel and her knight; how little she knows that perhaps +her fate is beside her; they are too much of an age, but that lad has +the will of half a dozen men.'</p> + +<p>'Why do you tease her so?' remonstrated Mildred. Dr. Heriot still +retained his seat comfortably beside her. 'She is very girlish and +romantic, but she hardly deserved such biting sarcasms.'</p> + +<p>'Was I sarcastic?' he asked, evidently surprised. 'Poor child! I would +not have hurt her for the world. And these luxuriant fancies need +pruning; hers is a fine nature run to seed for want of care and proper +nurture.'</p> + +<p>'I think she needs sympathy,' returned gentle Mildred.</p> + +<p>'Then she has sought it in the right quarter,' with a look she could +hardly misunderstand, 'and where the supply is always equal to the +demand; but I warn you she is somewhat of an egotist.'</p> + +<p>'Oh no!' warmly. 'I am sure Miss Trelawny is not selfish.'</p> + +<p>'That depends how you interpret the phrase. She would give you all her +jewels without a sigh, but you must allow her to talk out all her fine +feeling in return. After all, she is only like others of her sex.'</p> + +<p>'You are in one of your misanthropical moods.'</p> + +<p>'Men are not always feeling their own pulse and detailing their moral +symptoms, depend upon it; it is quite a feminine weakness, Miss Lambert. +I think I know one woman tolerably free from the disease, at least +outwardly;' and as Mildred blushed under the keen, yet kindly look, Dr. +Heriot somewhat abruptly changed the subject.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<h3>THE WELL-MEANING MISCHIEF-MAKER</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'And in that shadow I have pass'd along,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Feeling myself grow weak as it grew strong;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Walking in doubt and searching for the way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And often at a stand—as now to-day.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Perplexities do throng upon my sight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like scudding fogbanks, to obscure the light;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some new dilemma rises every day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I can only shut my eyes and pray.'—<span class="smcap">Anon.</span><br /></span> +</div></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>Mildred had been secretly reproaching herself for allowing Dr. Heriot's +pleasing conversation so completely to monopolise her, and even her +healthy conscience felt a pang something like remorse when, half an hour +later, they came upon Olive sitting alone on a tree-trunk, having +evidently stolen apart from her companions to indulge unobserved in one +of her usual reveries.</p> + +<p>She was too much absorbed to notice them till addressed by name, and +then, to Mildred's surprise, she started, coloured from chin to brow, +and, muttering some excuse, seemed only anxious to effect her escape.</p> + +<p>'I hope you are not composing an Ode to Melancholy,' observed Dr. +Heriot, with one of his quizzical looks. 'You look like a forsaken +wood-nymph, or a disconsolate Chloe, or Jacques' sobbing deer, or any +other uncomfortable image of loneliness. What an unsociable creature you +are, Olive.'</p> + +<p>'Why are you not with Chrissy and the Chestertons? I hope we have not +all neglected you,' interposed Mildred in her soft voice, for she saw +that Olive shrank from Dr. Heriot's good-humoured raillery. 'Are you +tired, dear? Roy has not ordered the carriage for another hour, I am +afraid.'</p> + +<p>'No, I am not tired; I was only thinking. I will find Chriss,' returned +Olive, stammering and blushing still more under her aunt's affectionate +scrutiny. 'Don't come with me, please, Aunt Milly. I like being alone.' +And before Mildred could answer, she had disappeared down a little +side-walk, and was now lost to sight.</p> + +<p>Dr. Heriot laughed at Mildred's discomposed look.</p> + +<p>'You remind me of the hen when she hatched the duckling and found it +taking kindly to the unknown element. You must get used to Olive's odd +ways; she is decidedly original. I should not wonder if we disturbed her +in the first volume of some wonderful scheme-book, where all the +heroines are martyrs and the hero is a full-length portrait of Richard. +I warn you all her <i>dénouements</i> will be disastrous. Olive does not +believe in happiness for herself or other people.'</p> + +<p>'How hard you are on her!' returned Mildred, finding it impossible to +restrain a smile; but in reality she felt a little anxious. Olive had +seemed more than usually absorbed during the last few days; there was a +concentrated gravity in her manner that had struck Mildred more than +once, but all questioning had been in vain. 'I am not unhappy—at least, +not more than usual. I am only thinking out some troublesome thoughts,' +she had said when Mildred had pressed her the previous night. 'No, you +cannot do anything for me, Aunt Milly. I only want to help myself and +other people to do right.' And Mildred, who was secretly weary of this +endless scrupulosity, and imagined it was only a fresh attack of Olive's +troublesome conscience, was fain to rest content with the answer, though +she reproached herself not a little afterwards for a selfish evasion of +a manifest duty.</p> + +<p>The remainder of the day passed over pleasantly enough. Dr. Heriot had +contrived to make his peace with Miss Trelawny, for she had regained her +old serenity of manner when Mildred saw her again. She came just as they +were starting, to beg that Mildred would spend a long day at Kirkleatham +House.</p> + +<p>'Papa is going over to Appleby, to the Sessions Court, and I shall be +alone all day to-morrow. Do come, Mildred,' she pleaded. 'You do not +know what a treat it will be to me.' And though Mildred hesitated, her +objections were all overruled by Richard, who insisted that nobody +wanted her, and that a holiday would do her good.</p> + +<p>Richard's arguments prevailed, and Mildred thoroughly enjoyed her +holiday. Some hours of unrestrained intercourse only convinced her that +Ethel Trelawny's faults lay on the surface, and were the result of a +defective education and disadvantageous circumstances, while the real +nobility of her character revealed itself in every thought and word. She +had laid aside the slight hauteur and extravagance that marred +simplicity and provoked the just censure of men like Dr. Heriot; lesser +natures she delighted to baffle by an eccentricity that was often +ill-timed and out of place, but to-day the stilts, as Dr. Heriot termed +them, were out of sight. Mildred's sincerity touched the right keynote, +her brief captiousness vanished, unconsciously she showed the true side +of her character. Gentle, though unsatisfied; childishly eager, and with +a child's purity of purpose; full of lofty aims, unpractical, waiting +breathless for mere visionary happiness for which she knew no name; a +sweet, though subtle egotist, and yet tender-hearted and womanly;—no +wonder Ethel Trelawny was a fascinating study to Mildred that long +summer's day.</p> + +<p>Mildred listened with unwearied sympathy while Ethel dwelt pathetically +on her lonely and purposeless life, with its jarring gaieties and +absence of congenial fellowship.</p> + +<p>'Papa is dreadfully methodical and business-like. He always finds fault +with me because I am so unpractical, and will never let me help him, or +talk about what interests him; and then he cares for politics. He was so +disappointed because he failed in the last election. His great ambition +is to be a member of parliament. I know they got him to contest the +Kendal borough; but he had no chance, though he spent I am afraid to say +how much money. The present member was too popular, and was returned by +a large majority. He was very angry because I did not sympathise with +him in his disappointment; but how could I, knowing it was for the +honour of the position that he wanted it, and not for the highest +motives? And then the bribery and corruption were so sickening.'</p> + +<p>'I do not think we ought to impute any but the highest motives until we +know to the contrary,' returned Mildred, mildly.</p> + +<p>Ethel coloured. 'You think me disloyal; but papa knows my sentiments +well; we shall never agree on these questions—never. I fancy men in +general take a far less high standard than women.'</p> + +<p>'You are wrong there,' returned practical Mildred, firing up at this +sweeping assertion, which had a taint of heresy in her ears. 'Because +men live instead of talk their opinions, you misjudge them. Do you think +the single eye and the steady aim is not a necessary adjunct of all real +manhood? Look at my brother, look at Dr. Heriot, for example; they are +no mere worldlings, leading purposeless existences; they are both hard +workers and deep thinkers.'</p> + +<p>'We will leave Dr. Heriot out of the question; I see he has begun to be +perfection in your eyes, Mildred. Nay,'—and Mildred drew herself up +with a little dignity and looked annoyed,—'I meant nothing but the most +platonic admiration, which I assure you he reciprocates in an equal +degree. He thinks you a very superior person—so well-principled, so +entirely unselfish; he is always quoting you as an example, and——'</p> + +<p>'I agree with you that we should leave personalities in the background,' +returned Mildred, hastily, and taking herself to task for feeling +aggrieved at Dr. Heriot calling her a superior person. The argument +waxed languid at this point; Ethel became a little lugubrious under +Mildred's reproof, and relapsed into pathetic egotism again, pouring out +her longings for vocation, work, sympathy, and all the disconnected iota +of female oratory worked up into enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>'I want work, Mildred.'</p> + +<p>'And yet you dream dreams and see visions.'</p> + +<p>'Hush! please let me finish. I do not mean make-believes, shifts to get +through the day, fanciful labours befitting rank and station, but real +work, that will fill one's heart and life.'</p> + +<p>'Yours is a hungry nature. I fear the demand would double the supply. +You would go starved from the very place where we poor ordinary mortals +would have a full meal.'</p> + +<p>Ethel pouted. 'I wish you would not borrow metaphors from our tiresome +Mentor. I declare, Mildred, your words have always more or less a +flavour of Dr. Heriot's.'</p> + +<p>Mildred quietly took up her work. 'You know how to reduce me to +silence.'</p> + +<p>But Ethel playfully impeded the sewing by laying her crossed hands over +it.</p> + +<p>'Dr. Heriot's name seems an apple of discord between us, Mildred.'</p> + +<p>'You are so absurd about him.'</p> + +<p>'I am always provoked at hearing his opinions second-hand. I have less +comfort in talking to him than to any one else; I always seem to be +airing my own foolishness.'</p> + +<p>'At least, I am not accountable for that,' returned Mildred, pointedly.</p> + +<p>'No,' returned Ethel, with her charming smile, which at once disarmed +Mildred's prudery. 'You wise people think and talk much alike; you are +both so hard on mere visionaries. But I can bear it more patiently from +you than from him.'</p> + +<p>'I cannot solve riddles,' replied Mildred, in her old sensible manner. +'It strikes me that you have fashioned Dr. Heriot into a sort of +bugbear—a <i>bźte noir</i> to frighten naughty, prejudiced children; and yet +he is truly gentle.'</p> + +<p>'It is the sort of gentleness that rebukes one more than sternness,' +returned Ethel in a low voice. 'How odd it is, Mildred, when one feels +compelled to show the worst side of oneself, to the very people, too, +whom one most wishes to propitiate, or, at least—but my speech +threatens to be as incoherent as Olive's.'</p> + +<p>'I know what you mean; it comes of thinking too much of a mere +expression of opinion.'</p> + +<p>'Oh no,' she returned, with a quick blush; 'it only comes from a rash +impulse to dethrone Mentor altogether—the idea of moral leading reins +are so derogatory after childhood has passed.'</p> + +<p>'You must give me a hint if I begin to lecture in my turn. I shall +forget sometimes you are not Olive or Chriss.'</p> + +<p>The soft, brilliant eyes filled suddenly with tears.</p> + +<p>'I could find it in my heart to wish I were even Olive, whom you have a +right to lecture. How nice it would be to belong to you really, +Mildred—to have a real claim on your time and sympathy.'</p> + +<p>'All my friends have that,' was the soft answer. 'But how dark it is +growing—the longest day must have an end, you see.'</p> + +<p>'That means—you are going,' she returned, regretfully. 'Mother Mildred +is thinking of her children. I shall come down and see you and them +soon, and you must promise to find me some work.'</p> + +<p>Mildred shook her head. 'It must not be my finding if it is to satisfy +your exorbitant demands.'</p> + +<p>'We shall see; anyhow you have left me plenty to think about—you will +leave a little bit of sunshine behind you in this dull, rambling house. +Shall you go alone? Richard or Royal ought to have walked up to meet +you.'</p> + +<p>'Richard half promised he would, but I do not mind a lonely walk.' And +Mildred nodded brightly as she turned out of the lodge gates. She looked +back once; the moon was rising, a star shone on the edge of a dark +cloud, the air was sweet with the breath of honeysuckles and roses, a +slight breeze stirred Ethel's white dress as she leaned against the +heavy swing-gate, the sound of a horse's hoofs rang out from the +distance, the next moment she had disappeared into the shrubbery, and +Dr. Heriot walked his horse all the way to the town by the side of +Mildred.</p> + +<p>Mildred's day had refreshed and exhilarated her; congenial society was +as new as it was delightful. 'Somehow I think I feel younger instead of +older,' thought the quiet woman, as she turned up the vicarage lane and +entered the courtyard; 'after all, it is sweet to be appreciated.'</p> + +<p>'Is that you, Aunt Milly? You look ghost-like in the gloaming.'</p> + +<p>'Naughty boy, how you startled me! Why did not you or Richard walk up to +Kirkleatham House?'</p> + +<p>'We could not,' replied Roy, gravely. 'My father wanted Richard, and +I—I did not feel up to it. Go in, Aunt Milly; it is very damp and +chilly out here to-night.' And Roy resumed his former position of +lounging against the trellis-work of the porch. There was a touch of +despondency in the lad's voice and manner that struck Mildred, and she +lingered for a moment in the porch.</p> + +<p>'Are you not coming in too?'</p> + +<p>'No, thank you, not at present,' turning away his face.</p> + +<p>'Is there anything the matter, Roy?'</p> + +<p>'Yes—no. One must have a fit of the dumps sometimes; life is not all +syrup of roses'—rather crossly for Roy.</p> + +<p>'Poor old Royal—what's amiss, I wonder? There, I will not tease you,' +touching his shoulder caressingly, but with a half-sigh at the reticence +of Betha's boys. 'Where is Richard?'</p> + +<p>'With my father—I thought I told you;' then, mastering his irritability +with an effort, 'please don't go to them, Aunt Milly, they are +discussing something. Things are rather at sixes and sevens this +evening, thanks to Livy's interference; she will tell you all about it. +Good-night, Aunt Milly;' and as though afraid of being further +questioned, Roy strode down the court, where Mildred long afterwards +heard him kicking up the beck gravel, as a safe outlet and vent for +pent-up irritability.</p> + +<p>Mildred drew a long breath as she went upstairs. 'I shall pay dearly for +my pleasant holiday,' she thought. She could hear low voices in earnest +talk as she passed the study, but as she stole noiselessly down the +lobby no sound reached her from the girls' room, and she half hoped +Olive was asleep.</p> + +<p>As she opened her own door, however, there was a slight sound as of a +caught breath, and then a quick sob, and to her dismay she could just +see in the faint light the line of crouching shoulders and a bent figure +huddled up near the window that could belong to no other than Olive. It +must be confessed that Mildred's heart shrank for a moment from the +weary task that lay before her; but the next instant genuine pity and +compassion banished the unworthy thought.</p> + +<p>'My poor child, what is this?'</p> + +<p>'Oh, Aunt Milly,' with a sort of gasp, 'I thought you would never come.'</p> + +<p>'Never mind; I am here now. Wait a moment till I strike a light,' +commenced Mildred, cheerfully; but Olive interrupted her with unusual +fretfulness.</p> + +<p>'Please don't; I can talk so much better in the dark. I came in here +because Chrissy was awake, and I could not bear her talk.'</p> + +<p>'Very well, my dear, it shall be as you wish,' returned Mildred, gently; +and the soft warm hands closed over the girl's chill, nervous fingers +with comforting pressure. A strong restful nature like Mildred's was the +natural refuge of a timid despondent one such as Olive's. The poor girl +felt a sensation something like comfort as she groped her way a little +nearer to her aunt, and felt the kind arm drawing her closer.</p> + +<p>'Now tell me all about it, my dear.'</p> + +<p>Olive began, but it was difficult for Mildred to follow the long +rambling confession; with all her love for truth, Olive's morbid +sensitiveness tinged most things with exaggeration. Mildred hardly knew +if her timidity and incoherence were not jumbling facts and suppositions +together with a great deal of intuitive wisdom and perception. There was +a sad amount of guess-work and unreality, but after a few leading +questions, and by dint of allowing Olive to tell her story in her own +way, she contrived to get tolerably near the true state of the case.</p> + +<p>It appeared that Olive had for a long time been seriously unhappy about +her brothers. Truthful and uncompromising herself, there had seemed to +her a want of integrity and a blamable lack of openness in their +dealings with their father. With the best intentions, they were +absolutely deceiving him by leaving him in such complete, ignorance of +their wishes and intentions. Royal especially was making shipwreck of +his father's hopes concerning him, devoting most of his time and +energies to a secret pursuit; while his careless preparation for his +tutor was practical, if not actual, dishonesty.</p> + +<p>'At least Cardie works hard enough,' interrupted Mildred at this point.</p> + +<p>'Yes, because it will serve either purpose; but, Aunt Milly, he ought to +tell papa how he dreads the idea of being ordained; it is not right; he +is unfit for it; it is worse than wrong—absolute sacrilege;' and Olive +poured out tremblingly into her aunt's shocked ear that she knew Cardie +had doubts, that he was unhappy about himself. No—no one had told her, +but she knew it; she had watched him, and heard him talk, and she burst +into tears as she told Mildred that once he absolutely sneered at +something in his father's sermon which he declared obsolete, and not a +matter of faith at all.</p> + +<p>'But, my dear,' interrupted the elder woman, anxiously, 'my brother +ought to know. I—some one—must speak to Richard.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, Aunt Milly, you will hear—it is I—who have done the mischief; but +you told me there were no such things as conflicting duties; and what is +the use of a conscience if it be not to guide and make us do unpleasant +things?'</p> + +<p>'You mean you spoke to Richard?'</p> + +<p>'I have often tried to speak to him, but he was always angry, and +muttered something about my interference; he could not bear me to read +him so truly. I know it was all Mr. Macdonald. Papa had him to stay here +for a month, and he did Cardie so much harm.'</p> + +<p>'Who is he—I never heard of him?' And Olive explained, in her rambling +way, that he was an old college friend of her father's and a very clever +barrister, and he had come to them to recruit after a long illness. +According to her accounts, his was just the sort of character to attract +a nature like Richard's. His brilliant and subtle reasoning, his long +and interesting disquisitions on all manner of subjects, his sceptical +hints, conveying the notion of danger, and yet never exactly touching on +forbidden ground, though they involved a perilous breadth of views, all +made him a very unsafe companion for Richard's clever, inquisitive mind. +Olive guessed, rather than knew, that things were freely canvassed in +those long country walks that would have shocked her father; though, to +his credit be it said, Henry Macdonald had no idea of the mischievous +seed he had scattered in the ardent soil of a young and undeveloped +nature.</p> + +<p>Mildred was very greatly dismayed too when she heard that Richard had +read books against which he had been warned, and which must have further +unsettled his views. 'I think mamma guessed he had something on his +mind, for she was always trying to make him talk to papa, and telling +him papa could help him; but I heard him say to her once that he could +not bear to disappoint him so, that he must have time, and battle +through it alone. I know mamma could not endure Mr. Macdonald; and when +papa wanted to have him again, she said, once quite decidedly, "No, she +did not like him, and he was not good for Richard." I noticed papa +seemed quite surprised and taken aback.'</p> + +<p>'Well, go on, my dear;' for Olive sighed afresh at this point, as though +it were difficult to proceed.</p> + +<p>'Of course you will think me wrong, Aunt Milly. I do myself now; but if +you knew how I thought about it, till my head ached and I was half +stupid!—but I worked myself up to believe that I ought to speak to +papa.'</p> + +<p>'Ah!' Mildred checked the exclamation that rose to her lips, fearing +lest a weary argument should break the thread of Olive's narrative, +which now showed signs of flowing smoothly.</p> + +<p>'I half made up my mind to ask your advice, Aunt Milly, on the +rush-bearing day, but you were tired, and Polly was with you, and——'</p> + +<p>'Have I ever been too tired to help you, Olive?' asked Mildred, +reproachfully; all the more that an uncomfortable sensation crossed her +at the remembrance that she had noticed a wistful anxiety in Olive's +eyes the previous night, but had nevertheless dismissed her on the plea +of weariness, feeling herself unequal to one of the girl's endless +discussions. 'I am sorry—nay, heartily grieved—if I have ever repelled +your confidence.'</p> + +<p>'Please don't talk so, Aunt Milly; of course it was my fault, but' +(timidly) 'I am afraid sometimes I shall tire even you;' and Mildred's +pangs of conscience were so intense that she dared not answer; she knew +too well that Olive had of late tired her, though she had no idea the +girl's sensitiveness had been wounded. A kind of impatience seized her +as Olive talked on; she felt the sort of revolt and want of realization +that borders the pity of one in perfect health walking for the first +time through the wards of a hospital, and met on all sides by the +spectacle of mutilated and suffering humanity.</p> + +<p>'How shall I ever deal with all these moods of mind?' she thought +hopelessly, as she composed herself to listen.</p> + +<p>'So you spoke to your father, Olive? Go on; I will tell you afterwards +what I think.'</p> + +<p>There was a little sternness in the low tones, from which the girl +shrank. Of course Aunt Milly thought her wrong and interfering. Well, +she had been wrong, and she went on still more humbly:</p> + +<p>'I thought it was my duty; it made me miserable to do it, because I knew +Cardie would be angry, though I never knew how angry; but I got it into +my head that I ought to help him, in spite of himself, and because Rex +was so weak. You have no idea how weak and vacillating Rex is when it +comes to disappointing people, Aunt Milly.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, I know; go on,' was all the answer Mildred vouchsafed to this.</p> + +<p>'I brooded over it all St. Peter's day, and at night I could not sleep. +I thought of that verse about cutting off the right hand and plucking +out the right eye; it seemed to me it lay between Cardie and speaking +the truth, and that no pain ought to hinder me; and I determined to +speak to papa the first opportunity; and it came to-day. Cardie and Rex +were both out, and papa asked me to walk with him to Winton, and then he +got tired, and we sat down half-way on a fallen tree, and then I told +him.'</p> + +<p>'About Richard's views?'</p> + +<p>'About everything. I began with Rex; I told papa how his very sweetness +and amiability made him weak in things; he so hated disappointing +people, that he could not bring himself to say what he wished; and just +now, after his illness and trouble, it seemed doubly hard to do it.'</p> + +<p>'And what did he say to that?'</p> + +<p>'He looked grieved; yes, I am sure he was grieved. He does not believe +that Roy knows his own mind, or will ever do much good as an artist; but +all he said was, "I understand—my own boy—afraid of disappointing his +father. Well, well, the lad knows best what will make him happy."'</p> + +<p>'And then you told him about Richard?'</p> + +<p>'Yes,' catching her breath as though with a painful thought; 'when I got +to Cardie, somehow the words seemed to come of themselves, and it was +such a relief telling papa all I thought. It has been such a burden all +this time, for I am sure no one but mamma ever guessed how unhappy +Cardie really was.'</p> + +<p>'You, who know him so well, could inflict this mortification on him—no, +I did not mean to say that, you have suffered enough, my child; but did +it not occur to you that you were betraying a sacred confidence?'</p> + +<p>'Confidence, Aunt Milly!'</p> + +<p>'Yes, Olive; your deep insight into your brother's character, and your +very real affection for him, ought to have guarded you from this +mistake. If you had read him so truly as to discover all this for +yourself, you should not have imparted this knowledge without warning, +knowing how much it would wound his jealous reticence. If you had +waited, doubtless Richard's good sense would have induced him at last to +confide in his father.'</p> + +<p>'Not until it was too late—until he had worn himself out. He gets more +jaded and weary every day, Aunt Milly.'</p> + +<p>Mildred shook her head.</p> + +<p>'The golden rule holds good even here, "To do unto others as we would +they should do unto us." How would you like Richard to retail your +opinions and feelings, under the impression he owed you a duty?'</p> + +<p>'Aunt Milly, indeed I thought I was acting for the best.'</p> + +<p>'I do not doubt it, my child; the love that guided you was clearer than +the wisdom; but what did Arnold—what did your father say?'</p> + +<p>'Oh, Aunt Milly, he looked almost heart-broken; he covered his face with +his hands, and I think he was praying; and yet he seemed almost as +though he were talking to mamma. I am sure he had forgotten I was there. +I heard him say something about having been selfish in his great grief; +that he must have neglected his boy, or been hard and cruel to him, or +he would never have so repelled his confidence. "Betha's boy, her +darling," he kept saying to himself; "my poor Cardie, my poor lad," over +and over again, till I spoke to him to rouse him; and then he +said,'—here Olive faltered,—'"that I had been a good girl—a faithful +little sister,—and that I must try and take her place, and remind them +how good and loving she was." And then he broke down. Oh, Aunt Milly, it +was so dreadful; and then I made him come back.'</p> + +<p>'My poor brother! I knew he would take it to heart.'</p> + +<p>'He said it was like a stab to him, for he had always been so proud of +Cardie; and it was his special wish to devote his first-born to the +service of the Church; and when I asked if he wished it now, he said, +vehemently, "A half-hearted service, reluctantly made—God forbid a son +of mine should do such wrong!" and then he was silent for a long time; +and just at the beginning of the town we met Rex, and papa whispered to +me to leave them together.'</p> + +<p>'My poor Olive, I can guess what a hard day you have had,' said Mildred, +caressingly, as the girl paused in her recital.</p> + +<p>'The hardest part was to come;' and Olive shivered, as though suddenly +chilled. 'I was not prepared for Rex being so angry; he is so seldom +cross, but he said harder things to me than he has said in his life.'</p> + +<p>Mildred thought of the harmless kicks on the beck gravel, and the +irritability in the porch, and could not forbear a smile. She could not +imagine Roy's wrath could be very alarming, especially as Olive owned +her father had been very lenient to him, and had promised to give the +subject his full consideration. In this case, Olive's interference had +really worked good; but Roy's manhood had taken fire at the notion of +being watched and talked over; his father's mild hints of moral weakness +and dilatoriness had affronted him; and though secretly relieved, the +difficulty of revelation had been spared him, he had held his head +higher, and had crushed his sister by a tirade against feminine +impertinence and interference; and, what hurt her most, had declared his +intention of never confiding in such a 'meddlesome Matty again.'</p> + +<p>Mildred was thankful the darkness hid her look of amusement at this +portion of Olive's lugubrious story, though the girl herself was too +weak and cowed to see the ludicrous side of anything; and her voice +changed into the old hopeless key as she spoke of Richard's look of +withering scorn.</p> + +<p>'He was almost too angry to speak to me, Aunt Milly. He said he never +would trust me again. I had better not know what he thought of me. I had +injured him beyond reparation. I don't know what he meant by that, but +Roy told me that he would not have had his father troubled for the +world; he could manage his own concerns, spiritual as well as temporal, +for himself. And then he sneered; but oh, Aunt Milly, he looked so white +and ill. I am sure now that for some reason he did not want papa to +know; perhaps things were not so bad as I thought, or he is trying to +feel better about it all. Do you think I have done wrong, Aunt Milly?'</p> + +<p>And Olive wrung her hands in genuine distress and burst into fresh +tears, and sobbed out that she had done for herself now; no one would +believe she had said it for the best; even Rex was angry with her—and +Cardie, she was sure Cardie would never forgive her.</p> + +<p>'Yes, when this has blown over, and he and his father have come to a +full understanding. I have better faith in Cardie's good heart than +that.'</p> + +<p>But Mildred felt more uneasy than her cheerful words implied. She had +seen from the first that Richard had persistently misunderstood his +sister; this fresh interference on her part, as he would term it, +touching on a very sore place, would gall and irritate him beyond +endurance. He had no conception of the amount of unselfish affection +that was already lavished upon him; in fact he thought Olive provokingly +cold and undemonstrative, and chafed at her want of finer feelings. It +needed some sort of shock or revelation to enable him to read his +sister's character in a truer light, and any kind of one-sided +reconciliation would be a very warped and patched affair.</p> + +<p>Mildred's clear-sightedness was fully alive to these difficulties; but +it was expedient to comfort Olive, who had relapsed into her former +state of agitation. There was clearly no wrong in the case; want of tact +and mistaken kindness were the heaviest sins to be laid to poor Olive's +charge; yet Mildred now found her incoherently accusing herself of +wholesale want of principle, of duty, and declaring that she was +unworthy of any one's affections.</p> + +<p>'I shall call you naughty for the first time, Olive, if I hear any more +of this,' interrupted her aunt; and by infusing a little judicious +firmness into her voice, and by dint of management, though not without +difficulty, and representing that she herself was in need of rest, she +succeeded in persuading the worn-out girl to seek some repose.</p> + +<p>Unwilling to trust her out of her sight, she made her share her own bed; +nor did she relax her vigil until the swollen eyelids had closed in +refreshing sleep, and the sobbing breaths were drawn more evenly. Once, +at an uneasy movement, she started from the doze into which she had +fallen, and put aside the long dark hair with a fondling hand; the moon +was then shining from behind the hill, and the beams shone full through +the uncurtained windows; the girl's hands were crossed upon her breast, +folded over the tiny silver cross she always wore, a half-smile playing +on her lips—</p> + +<p>'Cardie is always a good boy, mamma,' she muttered, drowsily, at +Mildred's disturbing touch. Olive was dreaming of her mother.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<h3>A YOUTHFUL DRACO AND SOLON</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'But thoughtless words may bear a sting<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where malice hath no place,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May wake to pain some secret sting<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beyond thy power to trace.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When quivering lips, and flushing cheek,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The spirit's agony bespeak,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, though thou deem thy brother weak,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet soothe his soul to peace.'—<span class="smcap">S. A. Storrs.</span><br /></span> +</div></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>Things certainly seemed at sixes and sevens, as Roy phrased it, the next +morning. The severe emotions of the previous night had resulted in +Olive's case in a miserable sick headache, which would not permit her to +raise her head from the pillow. Mildred, who had rightly interpreted the +meaning of the wistful glance that followed her to the door, had +resolved to take the first opportunity of speaking to her nephews +separately, and endeavouring to soften their aggrieved feelings towards +their sister; by a species of good fortune she met Roy coming out of his +father's room.</p> + +<p>Roy had slept off his mighty mood, and kicked away his sullenness, and +an hour of Polly's sunshiny influence had restored him to good humour; +and though his brow clouded a little at his aunt's first words, and he +broke into a bar of careless whistling in a low and displeased key at +the notion of her meditation, yet his better feelings were soon wrought +upon by a hint of Olive's sufferings, and he consented, though a little +condescendingly, to be the bearer of his own embassage of peace.</p> + +<p>Olive's heavy eyes filled up with tears when she saw him.</p> + +<p>'Dear Rex, this is so kind.'</p> + +<p>'I am sorry your head is so bad, Livy,' was the evasive answer, in a +sort of good-natured growl. Roy thought it would not do to be too +amiable at first. '"You do look precious bad to be sure," as the hangman +said to the gentleman he afterwards throttled. Take my advice, Livy,' +seating himself astride the rocking-chair, and speaking confidentially, +'medlars, spelt with either vowel, are very rotten things, and though I +would not joke for worlds on such an occasion, it behoves us to stick to +our national proverbs, and, as you know as well as I, a burnt child +dreads the fire.'</p> + +<p>'I will try to remember, Rex; I will, indeed; but please make Cardie +think I meant it for the best.'</p> + +<p>'It was the worst possible best,' replied Roy, gravely, 'and shows what +weak understandings you women have—part of the present company +excepted, Aunt Milly. "Age before honesty," and all that sort of thing, +you know.'</p> + +<p>'You incorrigible boy, how dare you be so rude?'</p> + +<p>'Don't distress the patient, Aunt Milly. What a weak-eyed sufferer you +look, Livy—regularly down in the doleful doldrums. You must have a +strong dose of Polly to cheer you up—a grain of quicksilver for every +scruple.'</p> + +<p>Olive smiled faintly. 'Oh, Rex, you dear old fellow, are you sure you +forgive me?'</p> + +<p>'Very much, thank you,' returned Roy, with a low bow from the +rocking-chair. 'And shall be much obliged by your not mentioning it +again.'</p> + +<p>'Only one word, just——'</p> + +<p>'Hush,' in a stentorian whisper, 'on your peril not an utterance—not +the ghostly semblance of a word. Aunt Milly, is repentance always such a +painful and distressing disorder? Like the immortal Rosa Dartle, "I only +ask for information." I will draw up a diagnosis of the symptoms for the +benefit of all the meddlesome Matties of futurity—No, you are right, +Livy,' as a sigh from Olive reached him; 'she was not a nice character +in polite fiction, wasn't Matty—and then show it to Dr. John. Let me +see; symptoms, weak eyes and reddish lids, a pallid exterior, with black +lines and circles under the eyes, not according to Euclid—or Cocker—a +tendency to laugh nervously at the words of wisdom, which, the +conscience reprobating, results in an imbecile grin.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, Rex, do—please don't—my head does ache so—and I don't want to +laugh.'</p> + +<p>'All hysteria, and a fresh attack of scruples—that quicksilver must be +administered without delay, I see—hot and cold fits—aguish symptoms, +and a tendency to incoherence and extravagance, not to say +lightheadedness—nausea, excited by the very thought of Dr. Murray—and +a restless desire to misplace words—"do—please don't," being a fair +sample. I declare, Livy, the disease is as novel as it is interesting.'</p> + +<p>Mildred left Olive cheered in spite of herself, but with a fresh access +of pain, and went in search of Richard.</p> + +<p>He was sitting at the little table writing. He looked up rather moodily +as his aunt entered.</p> + +<p>'Breakfast seems late this morning, Aunt Milly. Where is Rex?'</p> + +<p>'I left him in Olive's room, my dear;' and as Richard frowned, 'Olive +has been making herself ill with crying, and has a dreadful headache, +and Roy was kind enough to go and cheer her up.'</p> + +<p>No answer, only the scratching of the quill pen rapidly traversing the +paper.</p> + +<p>Mildred stood irresolute for a moment and watched him; there was no +softening of the fine young face. Chriss was right when she said +Richard's lips closed as though they were iron.</p> + +<p>'I was sorry to hear what an uncomfortable evening you all had last +night, Richard. I should hardly have enjoyed myself, if I had known how +things were at home.'</p> + +<p>'Ignorance is bliss, sometimes. I am glad you had a pleasant evening, +Aunt Milly. I was sorry I could not meet you. I told Rex to go.'</p> + +<p>'I found Rex kicking up his heels in the porch instead. Never mind,' as +Richard looked annoyed. 'Dr. Heriot brought me home. But, Richard, dear, +I am more sorry than I can say about this sad misunderstanding between +you and Olive.'</p> + +<p>'Aunt Milly, excuse me, but the less said about that the better.'</p> + +<p>'Poor girl! I know how her interference has offended you; it was +ill-judged, but, indeed, it was well meant. You have no conception, +Richard, how dearly Olive loves you.'</p> + +<p>The pen remained poised above the paper a moment, and then, in spite of +his effort, the pent-up storm burst forth.</p> + +<p>'Interference! unwarrantable impertinence! How dare she betray me to my +father?'</p> + +<p>'Betray you, Richard?'</p> + +<p>'The very thing I was sparing him! The thing of all others I would not +have had him know for worlds! How did she know? What right had she to +guess my most private feelings! It is past all forbearance; it is enough +to disgust one.'</p> + +<p>'It is hard to bear, certainly; but, Richard, the fault is after all a +trifling one; the worst construction one can put on it is error of +judgment and a simple want of tact; she had no idea she was harming +you.'</p> + +<p>'Harming me!' still more stormily; 'I shall never get over it. I have +lost caste in my father's opinion; how will he be ever able to trust me +now? If she had but given me warning of her intention, I should not be +in this position. All these months of labour gone for nothing. +Questioned, treated as a child—but, were he twenty times my father, I +should refuse to be catechised;' and Richard took up his pen again, and +went on writing, but not before Mildred had seen positive tears of +mortification had sprung to his eyes. They made her feel softer to +him—such a lad, too—and motherless—and yet so hard and +impracticable—mannish, indeed!'</p> + +<p>She stooped over him, even venturing to lay a hand on his shoulder. +'Dear Cardie, if you feel she has injured you so seriously, there is all +the greater need of forgiveness. You cannot refuse it to one so truly +humble. She is already heart-broken at the thought she may have caused +mischief.'</p> + +<p>'Are you her ambassadress, Aunt Milly?'</p> + +<p>'No; you know your sister better. She would not have ventured—at +least——'</p> + +<p>'I thought not,' he returned coldly. 'I wish her no ill, but, I confess, +I am hardly in the mood for true forgiveness just now. You see I am no +saint, Aunt Milly,' with a sneer, that sat ill on the handsome, careworn +young face, 'and I am above playing the hypocrite. Tender messages are +not in my line, and I am sorry to say I have not Roy's forgiving +temper.'</p> + +<p>'Dear Rex, he is a pattern to us all,' thought Mildred, but she wisely +forbore making the irritating comparison; it would certainly not have +lightened Richard's dark mood. With an odd sort of tenacity he seemed +dwelling on his aunt's last words.</p> + +<p>'You are wrong in one thing, Aunt Milly. I do not know my sister. I know +Rex, and love him with all my heart; and I understand the foolish baby +Chriss, but Olive is to me simply an enigma.'</p> + +<p>'Because you have not attempted to solve her.'</p> + +<p>'Most enigmas are tiresome, and hardly worth the trouble of solving,' he +returned calmly.</p> + +<p>'Richard! your own sister! for shame!' indignantly from Mildred.</p> + +<p>'I cannot help it, Aunt Milly; Olive has always been perfectly +incomprehensible to me. She is the worst sister, and, as far as I can +judge, the worst daughter I ever knew. In my opinion she has simply no +heart.'</p> + +<p>'Perhaps I had better leave you, Richard; you are not quite yourself.'</p> + +<p>The quiet reproof in Mildred's gentlest tones seemed to touch him.</p> + +<p>'I am sorry if I grieve you, Aunt Milly. I wish myself that we had never +entered on this subject.'</p> + +<p>'I wish it with all my heart, Richard; but I had no idea my own nephew +could be so hard.'</p> + +<p>'Unhappiness and want of sympathy make a man hard, Aunt Milly. But, all +the same,' speaking with manifest effort, 'I am making a bad return for +your kindness.'</p> + +<p>'I wish you would let me be kind,' she returned, earnestly. 'Nay, my +dear boy,' as an impatient frown crossed his face, 'I am not going to +renew a vexed subject. I love Olive too well to have her unjustly +censured, and you are too prejudiced and blinded by your own troubles to +be capable of doing her justice. I only want'—here Mildred paused and +faltered—'remember the bruised reed, Richard, and the mercy promised to +the merciful. When we come to our last hour, Cardie, and our poor little +life-torch is about to be extinguished, I think we shall be thankful if +no greater sins are written up against us than want of tact and the +error of judgment that comes from over-conscientiousness and a too great +love;' and without looking at his face, or trusting herself to say more, +Mildred turned to the breakfast-table, where he shortly afterwards +joined her.</p> + +<p>Olive was in such a suffering condition all the morning that she needed +her aunt's tenderest attention, and Mildred did not see her brother till +later in the day.</p> + +<p>The reaction caused by 'the Royal magnanimity,' as Mildred phrased it to +Dr. Heriot afterwards, had passed into subsequent depression as the +hours passed on, and no message reached her from the brother she loved +but too well. Mildred feigned for a long time not to notice the weary, +wistful looks that followed her about the room, especially as she knew +Olive's timidity would not venture on direct questioning, but the sight +of tears stealing from under the closed lids caused her to relent. Roy's +prescription of quicksilver had wholly failed. Polly, saddened and +mystified by the sorrowful spectacle of three-piled woe, forgot all her +saucy speeches, and blundered over her sympathising ones. And Chrissy +was even worse; she clattered about the room in her thick boots, and +talked loudly in the crossest possible key about people being stupid +enough to have feelings and make themselves ill about nothing. Chriss +soon got her dismissal, but as Mildred returned a little flushed from +the summary ejectment which Chriss had playfully tried to dispute, she +stooped over the bed and whispered—</p> + +<p>'Never mind, dear, it could not be helped; has it made your head worse?'</p> + +<p>'Only a little. Chriss is always so noisy.'</p> + +<p>'Shall we have Polly back? she is quieter and more accustomed to +sickrooms.'</p> + +<p>'No, thank you; I like being alone with you best, Aunt Milly, only—' +here a large tear dropped on the coverlid.</p> + +<p>'You must not fret then, or your nurse will scold. No, indeed, Olive. I +know what you are thinking about, but I don't know that having you ill +on my hands will greatly mend matters.'</p> + +<p>'Cardie,' whispered Olive, unable to endure the suspense any longer, +'did you give him my message?'</p> + +<p>'I told him you were far from well; but you know as well as I do, Olive, +that there is no dealing with Cardie when he is in one of these +unreasonable moods; we must be patient and give him time.'</p> + +<p>'I know what you mean, Aunt Milly—you think he will never forgive me.'</p> + +<p>'I think nothing of the kind; you must not be so childish, Olive,' +returned Mildred, with a little wholesome severity. 'I wish you would be +a good sensible girl and go to sleep.'</p> + +<p>'I will try,' she returned, in a tone of languid obedience; 'but I have +such an ache here,' pressing her hand to her heart, 'such an odd sort of +sinking, not exactly pain. I think it is more unhappiness and——'</p> + +<p>'That is because the mind acts and reacts on the body; you must quiet +yourself, Olive, and put this unlucky misunderstanding out of your +thoughts. Remember, after all, who it is "who maketh men to be of one +mind in a house;" you have acted for the best and without any selfish +motives, and you may safely leave the disentangling of all this +difficulty to Him. No, you must not talk any more,' as Olive seemed +eager to speak; 'you are flushed and feverish, and I mean to read you to +sleep with my monotonous voice;' and in spite of the invalid's +incredulous look Mildred so far kept her word that Olive first lost +whole sentences, and then vainly tried to fix her attention on others, +and at last thought she was in Hillbeck woods and that some doves were +cooing loudly to her, at which point Mildred softly laid down the book +and stole from the room.</p> + +<p>As she stood for a moment by the lobby window she saw her brother was +taking his evening's stroll in the churchyard, and hastened to join him. +He quickened his steps on seeing her, and inquired anxiously after +Olive.</p> + +<p>'She is asleep now, but I have not thought her looking very well for the +last two or three days,' answered his sister. 'I do not think Olive is +as strong as the others—she flags sadly at times.'</p> + +<p>'All this has upset her; they have told you, I suppose, Mildred?'</p> + +<p>'Olive told me last night'</p> + +<p>'I do not know that I have ever received a greater shock except one. I +hardly had an idea myself how much my hopes were fixed upon that boy, +but I am doomed to disappointment.'</p> + +<p>'It seems to me he is scarcely to be blamed; think how young he is, only +nineteen, and with such abilities.'</p> + +<p>'Poor lad; if he only knew how little I blame him,' returned his father +with a groan. 'It only shows the amount of culpable neglect of which I +have been guilty, throwing him into the society of such a man; but +indeed I was not aware till lately that Macdonald was little better than +a free-thinker.'</p> + +<p>Mildred looked shocked—things were even worse than she thought.</p> + +<p>'I fancy he has drifted into extremes during the last year or two, for +though always a little slippery in his Church views, he had not +developed any decided rationalistic tendency; but Betha, poor darling, +always disliked him; she said once, I remember, that he was not a good +companion for our boys. I do not think she mentioned Richard in +particular.'</p> + +<p>'Olive told me she had.'</p> + +<p>'Perhaps so; she was always so keenly alive to what concerned him. He +was my only rival, Milly,' with a sad smile. 'No mother could have been +prouder of her boy than she was of Cardie. I am bound to say he deserved +it, for he was a good son to her; at least,' with a stifled sigh, 'he +did not withhold his confidence from his mother.'</p> + +<p>'You found him impracticable then, Arnold?'</p> + +<p>He shook his head sadly.</p> + +<p>'The sin lies on my own head, Milly. I have neglected my children, +buried myself in my own pursuits and sorrow, and now I am sorely +punished. My son refuses the confidence which his father actually +stooped to entreat,' and there was a look of such suppressed anguish on +Mr. Lambert's face that Mildred could hardly refrain from tears.</p> + +<p>'Richard is always so good to you,' she said at last.</p> + +<p>'Do I not tell you I blame myself and not the boy that there is this +barrier between us! but to know that my son is in trouble which he will +not permit me to share, it is very hard, Mildred.'</p> + +<p>'It is wrong, Arnold.'</p> + +<p>'Where has the lad inherited his proud spirit! his mother was so very +gentle, and I was always alive to reason. I must confess he was +perfectly respectful, not to say filial in his manner, was grieved to +distress me, would have suffered anything rather than I should have been +so harassed; but it was not his fault that people had meddled in his +private concerns; you would have thought he was thirty at least.'</p> + +<p>'I am sure he meant what he said; there is no want of heart in Richard.'</p> + +<p>'He tried to smoothe me over, I could see, hoped that I should forget +it, and would esteem it a favour if I would not make it a matter of +discussion between us. He had been a little unsettled, how much he +refused to say. He could wish with me that he had never been thrown so +much with Macdonald, as doubts take seed as rapidly as thistledown; but +when I urged and pressed him to repose his doubts in me, as I might +possibly remove them, he drew back and hesitated, said he was not +prepared, he would rather not raise questions for which there might not +be sufficient reply; he thought it better to leave the weeds in a dark +corner where they could trouble no one; he wished to work it out for +himself—in fact, implied that he did not want my help.'</p> + +<p>'I think you must have misunderstood him, Arnold. Who could be better +than his own father, and he a clergyman?'</p> + +<p>'Many, my dear; Heriot, for example. I find Heriot is not quite so much +in the dark as I supposed, though he treats it less seriously than we +do; he says it is no use forcing confidence, and that Cardie is peculiar +and resents being catechised, and he advises me to send him to Oxford +without delay, that he may meet men on his own level and rub against +other minds; but I feel loath to do so, I am so in the dark about him. +Heriot may be right, or it may be the worst possible thing.'</p> + +<p>'What did Richard say himself?'</p> + +<p>'He seemed relieved at my proposing it, thanked me, and jumped at the +idea, begged that he might go after Christmas; he was wasting his time +here, looked pleased and dubious when I proposed his reading for the +bar, and then his face fell—I suppose at the thought of my +disappointment, for he coloured and said hurriedly that there was no +need of immediate decision; he must make up his mind finally whether he +should ever take holy orders. At present it was more than probable +that——'</p> + +<p>'"Say at once it is impossible," I interrupted, for the thought of such +sacrilege made me angry. "No, father, do not say that," he returned, and +I fancied he was touched for the moment. "Don't make up your mind that +we are both to disappoint you. I only want to be perfectly sure that I +am no hypocrite—that at any rate I am true in what I do. I think she +would like that best, father," and then I knew he meant his mother.'</p> + +<p>'Dear Arnold, I am not sure after all that you need be unhappy about +your boy.'</p> + +<p>'I do not distrust his rectitude of purpose; I only grieve over his +pride and inflexibility—they are not good bosom-companions to a young +man. Well, wherever he goes he is sure of his father's prayers, though +it is hard to know that one's son is a stranger. Ah, there comes Heriot, +Milly. I suppose he thinks we all want cheering up, as it is not his +usual night.'</p> + +<p>Mildred had already guessed such was the case, and was very grateful for +the stream of ready talk that, at supper-time, carried Polly and Chriss +with it. Roy had recovered his spirits, but he seemed to consider it a +duty to preserve a subdued and injured exterior in his father's +presence; it showed remorse for past idleness, and was a delicate +compliment to the absent Livy; while Richard sat by in grave +taciturnity, now and then breaking out into short sentences when silence +was impossible, but all the time keenly cognisant of his father's every +look and movement, and observant of his every want.</p> + +<p>Dr. Heriot followed Mildred out of the room with a half-laughing inquiry +how she had fared during the family gale.</p> + +<p>'It is no laughing matter, I assure you; we are all as uncomfortable as +possible.'</p> + +<p>'When Greek meets Greek, you know the rest. You have no idea how +dogmatical and disagreeable Mr. Lambert can make himself at times.'</p> + +<p>This was a new idea to Mildred, and was met with unusual indignation.</p> + +<p>'Parents have a notion they can enforce confidence—that the very +relationship instils it. Here is the vicar groaning over his son's +unfilial reticence and breaking his heart over a fit of very youthful +stubbornness which calls itself manly pride, and Richard all the while +yearning after his father, but bitter at being treated and schooled like +a child. I declare I take Richard's part in this.'</p> + +<p>'You ought not to blame my brother,' returned Mildred in a low voice.</p> + +<p>'He blames himself, and rightly too. He had no business to have such a +man about the house. Richard is a cantankerous puppy not to confide in +his father. But what's the good of leading a horse to the water?—you +can't make him drink.'</p> + +<p>'I begin to think you are right about Richard,' sighed Mildred; 'one +cannot help being fond of him, but he is very unsatisfactory. I am +afraid I shall never make any impression.'</p> + +<p>'Then no one will. Fie! Miss Lambert, I detect a whole world of +disappointment in that sigh. What has become of your faith? Half Dick's +faultiness comes from having an old head on young shoulders; in my +opinion he's worth half a dozen Penny-royals rolled in one.'</p> + +<p>'Dr. Heriot, how can you! Rex has the sweetest disposition in the world. +I strongly suspect he is his father's favourite.'</p> + +<p>'Have you just found that out? It would have done you good to have seen +the vicar gloating over Roy's daubs this afternoon, as though they were +treasures of art; the rogue actually made him believe that his +coffee-coloured clouds, with ragged vermilion edges, were sublime +effects. I quite pleased him when I assured him they were supernatural +in the truest sense of the word. He wiped his eyes actually, over the +gipsy sibyl that I call Roy's gingerbread queen. What a rage the lad put +himself in when I said I had never seen such a golden complexion except +at a fair booth or in very bad cases of jaundice.'</p> + +<p>'How you do delight to tease that boy!'</p> + +<p>'Isn't it too bad—ruffling the wings of my "sweet Whistler," as I call +him. He is the sort of boy all you women spoil. He only wants a little +more petting to become as effeminate as heart can wish. I am half afraid +that I shall miss his bright face when a London studio engulfs him.'</p> + +<p>'You think my brother will give him his way, then?'</p> + +<p>'He has no choice. Besides, he quite believes he has an unfledged Claude +Lorraine or Salvator Rosa on his hands. I believe Polly's Dad Fabian is +to be asked, and the matter regularly discussed. Poor Lambert! he will +suffer a twinge or two before he delivers the boy into the hands of the +Bohemians. He turned quite pale when I hinted a year in Rome; but there +seems no reason why Roy should not have a regular artistic education; +and, after all, I believe the lad has some talent—some of his smaller +sketches are very spirited.'</p> + +<p>'I thought so myself,' replied Mildred; and the subject of their +conversation appearing at this moment, the topic was dropped.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<h3>RICHARD CŒUR-DE LION</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'What is life, father?'<br /></span> +<span class="i8">'A battle, my child,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the strongest lance may fail;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the wariest eyes may be beguiled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the stoutest heart may quail;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the foes are gathered on every hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And rest not day or night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the feeble little ones must stand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the thickest of the fight.'—<span class="smcap">Adelaide Anne Procter.</span><br /></span> +</div></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>The next day the vicarage had not regained its wonted atmosphere of +quiet cheerfulness, which had been its normal condition since Mildred's +arrival.</p> + +<p>In vain had 'the sweet Whistler' haunted the narrow lobby outside +Olive's room, where, with long legs dangling from the window-seat, he +had warbled through the whole of 'Bonnie Dundee' and 'Comin' thro' the +Rye;' after which, helping himself <i>ad libitum</i> from the old-fashioned +bookcase outside Mildred's chamber, he had read through the whole index +of the <i>Shepherd's Guide</i> with a fine nasal imitation of Farmer +Tallentire.</p> + +<p>'Roy, how can you be so absurd?'</p> + +<p>'Shut up, Contradiction; don't you see I am enlightening Aunt Milly's +mind—clearing it of London fogs? Always imbibe the literature of your +country. People living on the fellside will find this a useful handbook +of reference, containing "a proper delineation of the usual horn and +ear-marks of all the members' sheep, extending from Bowes and Wensley +dale to Sedbergh in Yorkshire, from Ravenstone-dale and Brough to +Gillumholme in Westmorland, from Crossfell and Kirkoswold——"'</p> + +<p>Here, Chriss falling upon the book, the drawling monotone was quenched, +and a sharp scuffle ensued, in which Royal made his escape, betaking +himself during the remainder of the day to his glass studio and the +society of congenial canaries.</p> + +<p>The day was intensely hot; Olive's headache had yielded at last to +Mildred's treatment, but she seemed heavy and languid and dragged +herself with difficulty to the dinner-table, shocking every one but +Richard with her altered appearance.</p> + +<p>Richard had so far recovered his temper that he had made up his mind +with some degree of magnanimity to ignore (at least outwardly) what had +occurred. He kissed Olive coolly when she entered, and hoped, somewhat +stiffly, that her head was better; but he took no notice of the yearning +look in the dark eyes raised to his, though it haunted him long +afterwards, neither did he address her again; and Mildred was distressed +to find that Olive scarcely touched her food, and at last crept away +before half the meal was over, with the excuse that her head was aching +again, but in reality unable to bear the chill restraint of her +brother's presence.</p> + +<p>Mildred found her giddy and confused, and yet unwilling to own herself +anything but well, and with a growing sense of despondency and +hopelessness that made her a trying companion for a hot afternoon. She +talked Mildred and herself into a state of drowsiness at last, from +which the former was roused by hearing Ethel Trelawny's voice on the +terrace below.</p> + +<p>Mildred was thankful for any distraction, and the sight of the tall +figure in the riding-habit, advancing so gracefully to meet her, was +especially refreshing, though Ethel accosted her with unusual gravity, +and hoped she would not be in the way.</p> + +<p>'Papa has ridden over to Appleby, and will call for me on his return. I +started with the intention of going with him, but the afternoon is so +oppressive that I repented of my determination; will you give me a cup +of tea instead, Mildred?'</p> + +<p>'Willingly,' was the cheerful answer; and as she gave the order, Ethel +seated herself on the steps leading down to the small smooth-shaven +croquet-lawn, and, doffing her hat and gauntlets, amused herself with +switching the daisy-heads with her jewelled riding-whip until Mildred +returned.</p> + +<p>'Is Olive better?' she asked abruptly, as Mildred seated herself beside +her with needlework.</p> + +<p>Mildred looked a little surprised as she answered, but a +delicately-worded question or two soon showed her that Ethel was not +entirely ignorant of the state of the case. She had met Richard in the +town on the previous day, and, startled at his gloomy looks, had coaxed +him, though with great difficulty, to accompany her home.</p> + +<p>'It was not very easy to manage him in such a mood, continued Ethel, +with her crisp laugh. 'I felt, as we were going up the Crofts, as though +I were Una leading her lion. He was dumb all the way; he contrived a +roar at the end, though—we were very nearly having our first quarrel.'</p> + +<p>'I am afraid you were hard on your knight then.'</p> + +<p>Ethel coloured a little disdainfully, but she coloured nevertheless.</p> + +<p>'Boys were not knighted in the old days, Mildred—they had to win their +spurs, though,' hesitating, 'few could boast of a more gallant exploit +perhaps;' but with a sudden sparkle of fun in her beautiful eyes, 'a +lionised Richard, not a Cœur-de-Lion, but the horrid, blatant beast +himself, must be distressful to any one but a Una.'</p> + +<p>'Poor Richard! you should have soothed instead of irritated him.'</p> + +<p>'Counter-irritants are good for some diseases; besides, it was his own +fault. He did not put me in possession of the real facts of the case +until the last, and then only scantily. When I begged to know more, he +turned upon me quite haughtily; it might have been Cœur-de-Lion +himself before Ascalon, when Berengaria chose to be inquisitive. Indeed +he gave me a strong hint that I could have no possible right to question +him at all. I felt inclined half saucily to curtsey to his mightiness, +only he looked such a sore-hearted Cœur-de-Lion.'</p> + +<p>'I like your choice of names; it fits Cardie somehow. I believe the +lion-hearted king could contrive to get into rages sometimes. If I were +mischievous, which I am not, I would not let you forget you have likened +yourself to Berengaria.'</p> + +<p>It was good to see the curl of Ethel's lips as she completely ignored +Mildred's speech.</p> + +<p>'I suppressed the mocking reverence and treated him to a prettily-worded +apology instead, which had the effect of bringing him 'off the stilts,' +as a certain doctor calls it. I tell him sometimes, by way of excuse, +that the teens are a stilted period in one's life.'</p> + +<p>'Do you mean that you are younger than Richard?'</p> + +<p>'I am three months his junior, as he takes care to remind me sometimes. +Did you ever see youth treading on the heels of bearded age as in +Richard's case, poor fellow? I am really very sorry for him,' she +continued, in a tone of such genuine feeling that Mildred liked her +better than ever.</p> + +<p>'I hope you told him so.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, I was very good to him when I saw my sarcasms hurt. I gave him tea +with my own fair hands, and was very plentiful in the matter of cream, +which I know to be his weakness; and I made Minto pet him and Lassie +jump up on his knee, and by and by my good temper was rewarded, and +"Richard was himself again!"'</p> + +<p>'Did he tell you he is going to Oxford after Christmas?'</p> + +<p>'Yes; I am thankful to hear it. What is the good of his rusting here, +when every one says he has such wonderful abilities? I hope you do not +think me wrong, Mildred,' blushing slightly, 'but I strongly advocated +his reading for the Bar.'</p> + +<p>Mildred sighed.</p> + +<p>'There is no doubt he wishes it above all things; he quite warmed into +eagerness as we discussed it. My father has always said that his clear +logical head and undoubted talents would be invaluable as a barrister. +He has no want of earnestness, but he somehow lacks the persuasive +eloquence that ought to be innate in the real priest; and yet when I +said as much he shook his head, and relapsed into sadness again, said +there was more than that, hinted at a rooted antipathy, then turned it +off by owning that he disliked the notion of talking to old women about +their souls; was sure he would be a cypher at a sickbed, good for +nothing but scolding the people all round, and thought writing a couple +of sermons a week the most wearisome work in the world—digging into +one's brains for dry matter that must not be embellished even by a few +harmless Latin and Greek quotations.'</p> + +<p>Mildred looked grave. 'I fear he dislikes the whole thing.'</p> + +<p>But Ethel interposed eagerly. 'You must not blame him if he be unfit by +temperament. He had far better be a rising barrister than a half-hearted +priest.'</p> + +<p>'I would sooner see him anything than that—a navvy rather.'</p> + +<p>'That is what I say,' continued Miss Trelawny, triumphant; 'and yet when +I hinted as much he threw up his head with quite a Cœur-de-Lion look, +and said, "Yes, I know, but you must not tempt me to break through my +father's wishes. If it can be done without sacrilege——" And then he +stopped, and asked if it were only the Westmorland old women were so +trying. I do call it very wrong, Mildred, that any bias should have been +put on his wishes in this respect, especially as in two more years +Richard knows he will be independent of his father.' And as Mildred +looked astonished at this piece of information, Ethel modestly returned +that she had been intimate so many years at the vicarage—at least with +the vicar and his wife and Richard—that many things came to her +knowledge. Both she and her father knew that part of the mother's money +had, with the vicar's consent, been settled on her boy, and Mildred, who +knew that a considerable sum had a few years before been left to Betha +by an eccentric uncle whom Mr. Lambert had inadvertently offended, and +that he had willed it exclusively for the use of his niece and her +children, was nevertheless surprised to hear that while a moderate +portion had been reserved to her girls, Roy's share was only small, +while Richard at one-and-twenty would be put in possession of more than +three hundred a year.</p> + +<p>'Between three and four, I believe Mr. Lambert told my father. Roy is to +have a hundred a year, and the girls about two thousand apiece. Richard +will have the lion's share. I believe this same uncle took a fancy to +Roy's saucy face, and left a sum of money to be appropriated to his +education. Richard says there will be plenty for a thorough art +education and a year at Rome; he hinted too that if Roy failed of +achieving even moderate success in his profession, there was sufficient +for both. Anything rather than Roy should be crossed in his ambition! I +call that generous, Mildred.'</p> + +<p>'And I; but I am a little surprised at my brother making such a point of +Richard being a clergyman; he is very reticent at times. Come, Ethel, +you look mysterious. I suppose you can explain even this?'</p> + +<p>'I can; but at least you are hardly such a stranger to your own nephews +and nieces as not to be aware of the worldly consideration there is +involved.'</p> + +<p>'You forget,' returned Mildred, sadly, 'what a bad correspondent my +brother is; Betha was better, but it was not often the busy house-mother +could find leisure for long chatty letters. You are surely not speaking +of what happened when Richard was fourteen?'</p> + +<p>Ethel nodded and continued:</p> + +<p>'That accounts of course for his being in such favour at the Palace. +They say the Bishop and Mrs. Douglas would do anything for him—that +they treat him as though he were their own son; Rolf and he are to go to +the same college—Magdalen, too, though Mr. Lambert wanted him to go to +Queen's; they say, if anything happened to Mr. Lambert, that Richard +would be sure of the living; in a worldly point of view it certainly +sounds better than a briefless barrister.'</p> + +<p>'Ethel, you must not say such things. I cannot allow that my brother +would be influenced by such worldly considerations tempting as they +are,' replied Mildred, indignantly.</p> + +<p>But Ethel laid her hand softly on her arm.</p> + +<p>'Dear Mildred, this is only one side of the question; that something far +deeper is involved I know from Richard himself; I heard it years ago, +when Cardie was younger, and had not learned to be proud and cold with +his old playmate,' and Ethel's tone was a little sad.</p> + +<p>'May I know?' asked Mildred, pleadingly; 'there is no fear of Richard +ever telling me himself.'</p> + +<p>Ethel hesitated slightly.</p> + +<p>'He might not like it; but no, there can be no harm; you ought to know +it, Mildred; until now it seemed so beautiful—Richard thought so +himself.'</p> + +<p>'You mean that Betha wished it as well as Arnold?'</p> + +<p>'Ah! you have guessed it. What if the parents, in the fulness of their +fresh young happiness, desired to dedicate their first-born to the +priesthood, would not this better fit your conception of your brother's +character, always so simple and unconventional?'</p> + +<p>A gleam of pleasure passed over Mildred's face, but it was mixed with +pain. A fresh light seemed thrown on Richard's difficulty; she could +understand the complication now. With Richard's deep love for his +mother, would he not be tempted to regard her wishes as binding, all the +more that it involved sacrifice on his part?</p> + +<p>'It might be so, but Richard should not feel it obligatory to carry out +his parents' wish if there be any moral hindrance,' she continued +thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>'That is what I tell him. I have reason to know that it was a favourite +topic of conversation between the mother and son, and Mrs. Lambert often +assured me, with tears in her eyes, that Richard was ardent to follow +his father's profession. I remember on the eve of his confirmation that +he told me himself that he felt he was training for the noblest vocation +that could fall to the lot of man. Until two years ago there was no hint +of repugnance, not a whisper of dissent; no wonder all this is a blow to +his father!'</p> + +<p>'No, indeed!' assented Mildred.</p> + +<p>'Can you guess what has altered him so?' continued Ethel, with a +scrutinising glance. 'I have noticed a gradual change in him the last +two or three years; he is more reserved, less candid in every way. I +confess I have hardly understood him of late.'</p> + +<p>'He has not recovered his mother's death,' returned Mildred, evasively; +it was a relief to her that Ethel was in ignorance of the real cause of +the change in Richard. She herself was the only person who held the full +clue to the difficulty; Richard's reserve had baffled his father. Mr. +Lambert had no conception of the generous scruples that had hindered his +son's confidence, and prevented him from availing himself of his +tempting offer; and as she thought of the Cœur-de-Lion look with +which he had repelled Ethel's glowing description, a passionate pity +woke in her heart, and for the moment she forgave the chafed bitter +temper, in honest consideration for the noble struggle that preceded it.</p> + +<p>'What were you telling me about Richard and young Douglas?' she asked, +after a minute's pause, during which Ethel, disappointed by her +unexpected reserve, had relapsed into silence. 'Betha was ill at the +time, or I should have had a more glowing description than Arnold's +brief paragraph afforded me. I know Richard jumped into the mill-stream +and pulled one of the young Douglases out; but I never heard the +particulars.'</p> + +<p>'You astonish me by your cool manner of talking about it. It was an act +of pure heroism not to be expected in a boy of fourteen; all the county +rang with it for weeks afterwards. He and Rolf were playing down by the +mill, at Dalston, a few miles from the Palace, and somehow Rolf slipped +over the low parapet: you know the mill-stream: it has a dangerous eddy, +and there is a dark deep pool that makes you shudder to look at: the +miller's man heard Richard's shout of distress, but he was at the +topmost story, and long before he could have got to the place the lad +must have been swept under the wheel. Richard knew this, and the gallant +little fellow threw off his jacket and jumped in. Rolf could not swim, +but Richard struck out with all his might and caught him by his sleeve +just as the eddy was sucking him in. Richard was strong even then, and +he would have managed to tow him into shallow water but for Rolf's +agonised struggles; as it was, he only just managed to keep his head +above water, and prevent them both from sinking until help came. +Braithwaite had not thrown the rope a moment too soon, for, as he told +the Bishop afterwards, both the boys were drifting helplessly towards +the eddy. Richard's strength was exhausted by Rolf's despairing +clutches, but he had drawn Rolf's head on his breast and was still +holding him up; he fainted as they were hauled up the bank, and as it +was, his heroism cost him a long illness. I have called him +Cœur-de-Lion ever since.'</p> + +<p>'Noble boy!' returned Mildred, with sparkling eyes; but they were dim +too.</p> + +<p>'There, I hear the horses! how quickly time always passes in your +company, Mildred. Good-bye; I must not give papa time to get one foot +out of the stirrup, or he will tell me I have kept him waiting;' and +leaving Mildred to follow her more leisurely, Ethel gathered up her long +habit and quickly disappeared.</p> + +<p>Later that evening as Dr. Heriot passed through the dusky courtyard, he +found Mildred waiting in the porch.</p> + +<p>'How late you are; I almost feared you were not coming to-night,' she +said anxiously, in answer to his cheery 'good evening.'</p> + +<p>'Am I to flatter myself that you were watching for me then?' he +returned, veiling a little surprise under his usual light manner. 'How +are all the tempers, Miss Lambert? I hope I am not required to call +spirits blue and gray from the vasty deep, as I am not sure that I feel +particularly sportive to-night.'</p> + +<p>'I wanted to speak to you about Olive,' returned Mildred, quietly +ignoring the banter. 'She does not seem well. The headache was fully +accounted for yesterday, but I do not like the look of her to-night. I +felt her pulse just now, and it was quick, weak, and irregular, and she +was complaining of giddiness and a ringing in her ears.'</p> + +<p>'I have noticed she has not looked right for some days, especially on +St. Peter's day. Do you wish me to see her?' he continued, with a touch +of professional gravity.</p> + +<p>'I should be much obliged if you would,' she returned, gratefully; 'she +is in my room at present, as Chriss's noise disturbs her. Your visit +will put her out a little, as any questioning about her health seems to +make her irritable.'</p> + +<p>'She will not object to an old friend; anyhow, we must brave her +displeasure. Will you lead the way, Miss Lambert?'</p> + +<p>They found Olive sitting huddled up in her old position, and looking wan +and feverish. She shaded her eyes a little fretfully from the candle +Mildred carried, and looked at Dr. Heriot rather strangely and with some +displeasure.</p> + +<p>'How do you feel to-night, Olive?' he asked kindly, possessing himself +with some difficulty of the dry languid hand, and scrutinising with +anxiety the sunken countenance before him. Two days of agitation and +suppressed illness had quite altered the girl's appearance.</p> + +<p>'I am well—at least, only tired—there is nothing the matter with me. +Aunt Milly ought not to have troubled you,' still irritably.</p> + +<p>'Aunt Milly knows trouble is sometimes a pleasure. You are not well, +Olive, or you would not be so cross with your old friend.'</p> + +<p>She hesitated, put up her hand to her head, and looked ready to burst +into tears.</p> + +<p>'Come,' he continued, sitting down beside her, and speaking gently as +though to a child, 'you are ill or unhappy—or both, and talking makes +your head ache.'</p> + +<p>'Yes,' she returned, mechanically, 'it is always aching now, but it is +nothing.'</p> + +<p>'Most people are not so stoical. You must not keep things so much to +yourself, Olive. If you would own the truth I daresay you have felt +languid and disinclined to move for several days?'</p> + +<p>'I daresay. I cannot remember,' she faltered; but his keen, steady +glance was compelling her to rouse herself.</p> + +<p>'And you have not slept well, and your limbs ache as though you were +tired and bruised, and your thoughts get a little confused and +troublesome towards evening.'</p> + +<p>'They are always that,' she returned, heavily; but she did not refuse to +answer the few professional questions that Dr. Heriot put. His grave +manner, and the thoughtful way in which he watched Olive, caused Mildred +some secret uneasiness; it struck her that the girl was a little +incoherent in her talk.</p> + +<p>'Well—well,' he said, cheerfully, laying down the hand, 'you must give +up the fruitless struggle and submit to be nursed well again. Get her to +bed, Miss Lambert, and keep her and the room as cool as possible. She +will remain here, I suppose,' he continued abruptly, and as Mildred +assented, he seemed relieved. 'I will send her some medicine at once. I +shall see you downstairs presently,' he finished pointedly; and Mildred, +who understood him, returned in the affirmative. She was longing to have +Dr. Heriot's opinion; but she was too good a nurse not to make the +patient her first consideration. Supper was over by the time the draught +was administered, and Olive left fairly comfortable with Nan within +earshot. The girls had already retired to their rooms, and Dr. Heriot +was evidently waiting for Mildred, for he seemed absent and slightly +inattentive to the vicar's discourse. Richard, who was at work over some +of his father's papers, made no attempt to join in the conversation.</p> + +<p>Mr. Lambert interrupted himself on Mildred's entrance.</p> + +<p>'By the bye, Milly, have you spoken to Heriot about Olive?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, I have seen her, Mr. Lambert; her aunt was right; the girl is very +far from well.'</p> + +<p>'Nothing serious, I hope,' ejaculated the vicar, while Richard looked up +quickly from his writing. Dr. Heriot looked a little embarrassed.</p> + +<p>'I shall judge better to-morrow; the symptoms will be more decided; but +I am afraid—that is, I am nearly certain—that it is a touch of typhoid +fever.'</p> + +<p>The stifled exclamation came not from the vicar, but from the farthest +corner of the room. Mr. Lambert merely turned a little paler, and +clasped his hands.</p> + +<p>'God forbid, Heriot! That poor child!'</p> + +<p>'We shall know in a few hours for certain—she is ill, very ill I should +say.'</p> + +<p>'But she was with us, she dined with us to-day,' gasped Richard, unable +to comprehend what was the true state of the case.</p> + +<p>'It is not uncommon for people who are really ill of fever to go about +for some days until they can struggle with the feelings of illness no +longer. To-night there is slight confusion and incoherence, and the +ringing in the ears that is frequently the forerunner of delirium; she +will be a little wandering to-night,' he continued, turning to Mildred.</p> + +<p>'You must give me your instructions,' she returned, with the calmness of +one to whom illness was no novelty; but Mr. Lambert interrupted her.</p> + +<p>'Typhoid fever; the very thing that caused such mortality in the Farrer +and Bales' cottages last year.'</p> + +<p>'I should not be surprised if we find Olive has been visiting there of +late, and inhaling some of the poisonous gases. I have always said this +place is enough to breed a fever; the water is unwholesome, too, and she +is so careless that she may have forgotten how strongly I condemned it. +The want of waterworks, and the absence of the commonest precautions, +are the crying evils of a place like this.' And Dr. Heriot threw up his +head and began to pace the room, as was his fashion when roused or +excited, while he launched into bitter invectives against the suicidal +ignorance that set health at defiance by permitting abuses that were +enough to breed a pestilence.</p> + +<p>The full amount of the evil was as yet unknown to Mildred; but +sufficient detail was poured into her shrinking ear to justify Dr. +Heriot's indignation, and she was not a little shocked to find the happy +valley was not exempt from the taint of fatal ignorance and prejudice.</p> + +<p>'Your old hobby, Heriot,' said Mr. Lambert, with a faint smile; 'but at +least the Board of Guardians are taking up the question seriously now.'</p> + +<p>'How could they fail to do so after the last report of the medical +officer of health? We shall get our waterworks now, I suppose, through +stress of hard fighting; but——'</p> + +<p>'But my poor child——' interrupted Mr. Lambert, anxiously.</p> + +<p>Dr. Heriot paused in his restless walk.</p> + +<p>'Will do well, I trust, with her youth, sound constitution, and your +sister's good nursing. I was going to say,' he continued, turning to Mr. +Lambert, 'that with your old horror of fevers, you would be glad if the +others were to be removed from any possible contagion that might arise; +though, as I have already told you, that I cannot pronounce decidedly +whether it be the <i>typhus mitior</i> or the other; in a few hours the +symptoms will be decided. But anyhow it is as well to be on the safe +side, and Polly and Chriss can come to me; we can find plenty of room +for Richard and Royal as well.'</p> + +<p>'You need not arrange for me—I shall stay with my father and Aunt +Milly,' returned Richard abruptly, tossing back the wave of dark hair +that lay on his forehead, and pushing away his chair.</p> + +<p>'Nay, Cardie, I shall not need you; and your aunt will find more leisure +for her nursing if you are all off her hands. I shall be easier too. +Heriot knows my old nervousness in this respect.</p> + +<p>'I shall not leave you, father,' was Richard's sole rejoinder; but his +father's affectionate and anxious glance was unperceived as he quickly +gathered up the papers and left the room.</p> + +<p>'I think Dick is right,' returned Dr. Heriot, cheerfully. 'The vicarage +need not be cleared as though it were the pestilence. Now, Miss Lambert, +I will give you a few directions, and then I must say good-night.'</p> + +<p>When Mildred returned to her charge, she found Richard standing by the +bedside, contemplating his sister with a grave, impassive face. Olive +did not seem to notice him; she was moving restlessly on her pillow, her +dark hair unbound and falling on her flushed face. Richard gathered it +up gently and looked at his aunt.</p> + +<p>'We may have to get rid of some of it to-morrow,' she whispered; 'what a +pity, it is so long and beautiful; but it will prevent her losing all. +You must not stay now, Richard; I fancy it disturbs her,' as Olive +muttered something drowsily, and flung her arms about a little wildly; +'leave her to me to-night, dear; I will come to you first thing +to-morrow morning, and tell you how she is.'</p> + +<p>'Thank you,' he replied, gratefully.</p> + +<p>Mildred was not wrong in her surmises that something like remorse for +his unkindness made him stoop over the bed with the softly uttered +'Good-night, Livy.'</p> + +<p>'Good-night,' she returned, drowsily. 'Don't trouble about me, Cardie;' +and with that he was fain to retire.</p> + +<p>Things continued in much the same state for days. Dr. Heriot's opinion +of the nature of the disease was fully confirmed. There was no abatement +of fever, but an increase of debility. Olive's delirium was never +violent—it was rather a restlessness and confusion of thought; she lay +for hours in a semi-somnolent state, half-muttering to herself, yet +without distinct articulation. Now and then a question would rouse her, +and she would give a rational answer; but she soon fell back into the +old drowsy state again.</p> + +<p>Her nights were especially troubled in this respect. In the day she was +comparatively quiet; but for many successive nights all natural sleep +departed from her, and her confused and incoherent talk was very painful +to hear.</p> + +<p>Mildred fancied that Richard's presence made her more restless than at +other times; but when she hinted this, he looked so pained that she +could not find it in her heart to banish him, especially as his ready +strength and assistance were a great comfort to her. Mildred had refused +all exterior help. Nan's watchful care was always available during her +hours of necessary repose, and Mildred had been so well trained in the +school of nursing, that a few hours' sound sleep would send her back to +her post rested and refreshed. Dr. Heriot's admiration of his model +nurse, as he called her, was genuine and loudly expressed; and he often +assured Mr. Lambert, when unfavourable symptoms set in, that if Olive +recovered it would be mainly owing to her aunt's unwearied nursing.</p> + +<p>Mildred often wondered what she would have done without Richard, as +Olive grew weaker, and the slightest exertion brought on fainting, or +covered her with a cold, clammy sweat. Richard's strong arms were of use +now to lift her into easier positions. Mildred never suffered him to +share in the night watches, for which she and Nan were all-sufficient; +but the last thing at night, and often before the early dawn, his pale +anxious face would be seen outside the door; and all through the day he +was ever at hand to render valuable assistance. Once Mildred was +surprised to hear her name softly called from the far end of the lobby, +and on going out she found herself face to face with Ethel Trelawny.</p> + +<p>'Oh, Ethel! this is very wrong. Your father——'</p> + +<p>'I told her so,' returned Richard, who looked half grateful and half +uneasy; 'but she would come—she said she must see you. Aunt Milly looks +pale,' he continued, turning to Ethel; 'but we cannot be surprised at +that—she gets so little sleep.'</p> + +<p>'You will be worn out, Mildred. Papa will be angry, I know; but I cannot +help it. I mean to stay and nurse Olive.'</p> + +<p>'My dear Ethel!' Richard uttered an incredulous exclamation; but Miss +Trelawny was evidently in earnest; her fine countenance looked pale and +saddened.</p> + +<p>'I can and must; do let me, Mildred. I have often stayed up all night +for my own pleasure.'</p> + +<p>'But you are so unused to illness—it cannot be thought of for a +moment,' ejaculated Richard in alarm.</p> + +<p>'Women nurse by instinct. I should look at Mildred—she would soon +teach me. Why do you all persist in treating me as though I were quite +helpless? Papa is wrong; typhoid fever is not infectious, and if it +were, what use am I to any one? My life is not of as much consequence as +Mildred's.'</p> + +<p>'There is always the risk of contagion, and—and—why will you always +speak of yourself so recklessly, Miss Trelawny?' interposed Richard in a +pained voice, 'when you know how precious your life is to us all;' but +Ethel turned from him impatiently.</p> + +<p>'Mildred, you will let me come?'</p> + +<p>'No, Ethel, indeed I cannot, though I am very grateful to you for +wishing it. Your father is your first consideration, and his wishes +should be your law.'</p> + +<p>'Papa is afraid of everything,' she pleaded; 'he will not let me go into +the cottages where there is illness, and——'</p> + +<p>'He is right to take care of his only child,' replied Mildred, calmly.</p> + +<p>Richard seemed relieved.</p> + +<p>'I knew you would say so, Aunt Milly; we are grateful—more grateful +than I can say, dear Miss Trelawny; but I knew it ought not to be.'</p> + +<p>'And you must not come here again without your father's permission,' +continued Mildred, gently, and taking her hands; 'we have to remember +sometimes that to obey is better than sacrifice, dear Ethel. I am +grieved to disappoint your generous impulse,' as the girl turned +silently away with the tears in her eyes.</p> + +<p>'Dr. Heriot said I should have no chance, and Richard was as bad. Well, +good-bye,' trying to rally her spirits as she saw Mildred looked really +pained. 'I envy you your labour of love, Mildred; it is sweet—it must +be sweet to be really useful to some one;' and the sigh that accompanied +her words evidently came from a deep place in Ethel Trelawny's heart.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<h3>THE GATE AJAR</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, live!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So endeth faint the low pathetic cry<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of love, whom death hath taught, love cannot die.'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Poems by the Author of 'John Halifax.'</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'His dews drop mutely on the hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His cloud above it saileth still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though on its slope men sow and reap:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More softly than the dew is shed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or cloud is floated overhead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He giveth His beloved sleep.'—<span class="smcap">E. B. Browning.</span><br /></span> +</div></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>The fever had run its course,—never virulent or excessive, there had +still been no abatement in the unfavourable symptoms, and, as the +critical days approached, Mildred's watchfulness detected an increased +gravity in Dr. Heriot's manner. Always assiduous in his attentions, they +now became almost unremitting; his morning and evening visits were +supplemented by a noonday one; by and by every moment he could snatch +from his other patients was spent by Olive's bedside.</p> + +<p>A silent oppression hung over the vicarage; anxious footsteps crept +stealthily up to the front door at all hours, with low-whispered +inquiries. Every morning and evening Mildred telegraphed signals to Roy +and Polly as they stood on the other side of the beck in Hillsbottom, +watching patiently for the white fluttering pendant that was to send +them away in comparative tranquillity. Sometimes Roy would climb the low +hill in Hillsbottom, and lie for hours, with his eyes fixed on the broad +projecting window, on the chance of seeing Mildred steal there for a +moment's fresh air. Roy, contrary to his usual light-heartedness, had +taken Olive's illness greatly to heart; the remembrance of his hard +words oppressed and tormented him. Chriss often kept him +company—Chriss, who grew crosser day by day with suppressed +unhappiness, and who vented her uncomfortable feelings in contradicting +everything and everybody from morning to night.</p> + +<p>One warm sunshiny afternoon, Mildred, who was sensible of unusual +languor and oppression, had just stolen to the window to refresh her +eyes with the soft green of the fellsides, when Dr. Heriot, who had been +standing thoughtfully by the bedside, suddenly roused himself and +followed her.</p> + +<p>'Miss Lambert, do you know I am going to assert my authority?'</p> + +<p>Mildred looked up inquiringly, but there was no answering smile on her +pale face.</p> + +<p>'I am going to forbid you this room for the next two hours. Indeed,' as +Mildred shook her head incredulously, 'I am serious in what I say; you +have just reached the limit of endurance, and an attack of faintness may +possibly be the result, if you do not follow my advice. An hour's fresh +air will send you back fit for your work.'</p> + +<p>'But Olive! indeed I cannot leave Olive, Dr. Heriot.'</p> + +<p>'Not in my care?' very quietly. 'Of course I shall remain here until you +return.'</p> + +<p>'You are very kind; but indeed—no—I cannot go; please do not ask me, +Dr. Heriot;' and Mildred turned very pale.</p> + +<p>'I do not ask, I insist on it,' in a voice Mildred never heard before +from Dr. Heriot. 'Can you not trust me?' he continued, relapsing into +his ordinary gentle tone. 'Believe me, I would not banish you but for +your own good. You know'—he hesitated; but the calm, quiet face seemed +to reassure him—'things can only go on like this for a few hours, and +we may have a very trying night before us. You will want all your +strength for the next day or two.'</p> + +<p>'You apprehend a change for the worse?' asked Mildred, drawing her +breath more quickly, but speaking in a tone as low as his, for Richard +was watching them anxiously from the other end of the room.</p> + +<p>'I do not deny we have reason to fear it,' he returned, evasively; 'but +there will be no change of any kind for some hours.'</p> + +<p>'I will go, then, if Richard will take me,' she replied, quietly; and +Richard rose reluctantly.</p> + +<p>'You must not bring her back for two hours,' was Dr. Heriot's parting +injunction, as Mildred paused by Olive's bedside for a last lingering +look. Olive still lay in the same heavy stupor, only broken from time to +time by the imperfect muttering. The long hair had all been cut off, and +only a dark lock or two escaped from under the wet cloths; the large +hollow eyes looked fixed and brilliant, while the parched and blackened +lips spoke of low, consuming fever. As Mildred turned away, she was +startled by the look of anguish that crossed Richard's face; but he +followed her without a word.</p> + +<p>It was a lovely afternoon in July, the air was full of the warm +fragrance of new-mown hay, the distant fells lay in purple shadow. As +they walked through Hillsbottom, Mildred's eyes were almost dazzled by +the soft waves of green upland shining in the sunshine. Clusters of pink +briar roses hung on every hedge; down by the weir some children were +wading among the shallow pools; farther on the beck widened, and flowed +smoothly between its wooded banks. By and by they came to a rough +footbridge, leading to a little lane, its hedgerows bordered with ferns, +and gay with rose-campion and soft blue harebells, while trails of +meadow-sweet scented the air; beyond, lay a beautiful meadow, belting +Podgill, its green surface gemmed with the starry eyebright, and golden +in parts with yellow trefoil and ragwort.</p> + +<p>Mildred stooped to gather, half mechanically, the blue-eyed gentian that +Richard was crushing under his foot; and then a specimen of the +soft-tinted campanella attracted her, its cluster of bell-shaped +blossoms towering over the other wildflowers.</p> + +<p>'Shall we go down into Podgill, Aunt Milly, it is shadier than this +lane?' and Mildred, who was revolving painful thoughts in her mind, +followed him, still silent, through the low-hanging woods, with its +winding beck and rough stepping-stones, until they came to a green +slope, spanned by the viaduct.</p> + +<p>'Let us sit down here, Richard; how quiet and cool it is!' and Mildred +seated herself on the grass, while Richard threw himself down beside +her.</p> + +<p>'How silent we have been, Richard. I don't think either of us cared to +talk; but Dr. Heriot was right—I feel refreshed already.'</p> + +<p>'I am glad we came then, Aunt Milly.'</p> + +<p>'I never knew any one so thoughtful. Richard, I want to speak to you; +did you ever find out that Olive wrote poetry?'</p> + +<p>Richard raised himself in surprise.</p> + +<p>'No, Aunt Milly.'</p> + +<p>'I want to show you this; it was written on a stray leaf, and I ventured +to capture it; it may help you to understand that in her own way Olive +has suffered.'</p> + +<p>Richard took the paper from her without a word; but Mildred noticed his +hand shook. Was it cruel thus to call his hardness to remembrance? For a +moment Mildred's soft heart wavered over the task she had set for +herself.</p> + +<p>It was scrawled in Olive's school-girl hand, and in some parts was hard +to decipher, especially as now and then a blot of teardrops had rendered +it illegible; but nevertheless Richard succeeded in reading it.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'How speed our lost in the Unknown Land,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our dear ones gone to that distant strand?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Do they know that our hearts are sore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With longing for faces that never come,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With longing to hear in our silent home<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The voices that sound no more?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's a desolate look by the old hearth-stone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That tells of some light of the household gone<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To dwell with the ransomed band;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But none may follow their upward track,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And never, ah! never, a word comes back<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To tell of the Unknown Land!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'We know by a gleam on the brow so pale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the soul bursts forth from its mortal veil,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the gentle and good departs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That the dying ears caught the first faint ring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the songs of praise that the angels sing;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But back to our yearning hearts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Comes never, ah! never, a word to tell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That the purified spirit we love so well<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is safe on the heavenly strand;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That the Angel of Death has another gem<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To set in the star-decked diadem<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of the King of the Unknown Land!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'How speed our lost in the realms of air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We would ask—we would ask, Do they love us there?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Do they know that our hearts are sore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That the cup of sorrow oft overflows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And our eyes grow dim with weeping for those—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For those who shall "weep no more "?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when the Angel of Death shall call,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And earthly chains from about us fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will they meet us with clasping hand?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But never, ah! never a voice replies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the "many mansions" above the skies<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To tell of the Unknown Land!'<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>'Aunt Milly, why did you show me this? and Richard's eyes, full of +reproachful pain, fixed themselves somewhat sternly on her face.</p> + +<p>'Because I want you to understand. Look, there is another on the next +leaf; see, she has called it "A little while" and "for ever." My poor +girl, every word is so true of her own earnest nature.'</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'"For ever," they are fading,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our beautiful, our bright;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They gladden us "a little while,"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then pass away from sight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"A little while" we're parted<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From those who love us best,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who gain the goal before us<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And enter into rest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Our path grows very lonely,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And still those words beguile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And cheer our footsteps onward;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis but a little while.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'A little while earth's sorrow,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its burdens and its care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its struggles 'neath the crosses,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which we of earth must bear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'There's time to do and suffer—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To work our Master's will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But not for vain regretting<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For thoughts or deeds of ill.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too short to spend in weeping<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er broken hopes and flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For wandering and wasting,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is this strange life of ours.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Though, when our cares oppress us,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Earth's "little while" seems long,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If we would win the battle<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We must be brave and strong.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so with humble spirit,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But highest hopes and aim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The goal so often longed for<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We may perhaps attain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'"For ever" and "for ever"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To dwell among the blest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where sorrows never trouble<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The deep eternal rest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When one by one we gather<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beneath our Father's smile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Heaven's sweet "for ever"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Drowns earth's sad "little while."'<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>'Well, Richard?'</p> + +<p>But there was no answer; only the buzzing of insects in giddy circles +broke the silence, mingled with the far-off twitter of birds. Only when +Mildred again looked up, the paper had fluttered to their feet, and +Richard had covered his face with his shaking hands.</p> + +<p>'Dear Cardie, forgive me; I did not mean to pain you like this.'</p> + +<p>'Aunt Milly,' in a voice so hoarse and changed that Mildred quite +started, 'if she die, if Olive die, I shall never know a moment's peace +again;' and the groan that accompanied the words wrung Mildred's tender +heart with compassion.</p> + +<p>'God forbid we should lose her, Richard,' she returned, gently.</p> + +<p>'Do not try to deceive me,' he returned, bitterly, in the same low, +husky tones. 'I heard what he said—what you both said—that it could +not go on much longer; and I saw his face when he thought he was alone. +There is no hope—none.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, Richard, hush,' replied Mildred, in uncontrollable agitation; +'while there is life, there is hope. Think of David, "While the child +was yet alive I fasted and wept;" he could not tell whether God meant to +be gracious to him or not. We will pray, you and I, that our girl may be +spared.'</p> + +<p>But Richard recoiled in positive horror.</p> + +<p>'I pray, Aunt Milly? I, who have treated her so cruelly? I, who have +flung hard words to her, who have refused to forgive her? I——' and he +hid his pale, convulsed face in his hands again.</p> + +<p>'But you have forgiven her now, you do her justice. You believe how +truly she loved, she will ever love you.'</p> + +<p>'Too late,' he groaned. 'Yes, I see it now, she was too good for us; we +made her unhappy, and God is taking her home to her mother.'</p> + +<p>'Then you will let her go, dear Cardie. Hush, it would break her heart +to see you so unhappy;' and Mildred knelt down on the grass beside him, +and stroked back the dark waves of hair tenderly. She knew the pent-up +anguish of weeks must have its vent, now that his stoical manhood had +broken down. Remorse, want of rest, deadly conflict and anxiety, had at +last overcome the barrier of his reserve; and, as he flung himself down +beside her, with his face hidden in the bracken, she knew the hot tears +were welling through his fingers.</p> + +<p>For a long time she sat beside him, till his agitation had subsided; and +then, in her low, quiet voice, she began to talk to him. She spoke of +Olive's purity and steadfastness of purpose, her self-devotedness and +power of love; and Richard raised his head to listen. She told him of +those Sunday afternoons spent by her mother's grave, that quiet hour of +communion bracing her for the jars and discords of the week. And she +hinted at those weary moods of perpetual self-torture and endless +scruple, which hindered all vigorous effort and clouded her youth.</p> + +<p>'A diseased sensibility and overmuch imagination have resulted in the +despondency that has so discouraged and annoyed you, Richard. She has +dwelt so long among shadows of her own raising, that she has grown a +weary companion to healthier minds; her very love is so veiled by +timidity that it has given you an impression of her coldness.'</p> + +<p>'Blind fool that I was,' he ejaculated. 'Oh, Aunt Milly, do you think +she can ever forgive me?'</p> + +<p>'There can be no question of forgiveness at all; do not distress her by +asking for it, Richard. Olive's heart is as simple as a little child's; +it is not capable of resentment. Tell her that you love her, and you +will make her happy.'</p> + +<p>Richard did not answer for a minute, his thoughts had suddenly taken a +new turn.</p> + +<p>'I never could tell how it was she read me so correctly,' he said at +last; 'her telling my father, and not me, was so incomprehensible.'</p> + +<p>'She did not dare to speak to you, and she was so unhappy; but, Richard, +even Olive does not hold the clue to all this trouble.'</p> + +<p>He started nervously, changed colour, and plucked the blades of grass +restlessly. But in his present softened mood, Mildred knew he would not +repulse her; trouble might be near at hand, but at least he would not +refuse her sympathy any longer.</p> + +<p>'Dear Cardie, your difficulty is a very real one, and only time and +prayerful consideration can solve it; but beware how you let the wishes +of your dead mother, dear and binding as they may be to you, prove a +snare to your conscience. Richard, I knew her well enough to be sure +that was the last thing she would desire.'</p> + +<p>The blood rushed to Richard's face, eager words rose to his lips, but he +restrained them; but the grateful gleam in his eyes spoke volumes.</p> + +<p>'That is your real opinion, Aunt Milly.'</p> + +<p>'Indeed it is. Unready hands, an unprepared heart, are not fit for the +sanctuary. I may wish with you that difficulties had not arisen, that +you could carry out your parents' dedication and wish; but vocation +cannot be forced, neither must you fall into Olive's mistake of +supposing self-sacrifice is the one thing needful. After all, our first +duty is to be true to ourselves.'</p> + +<p>'Aunt Milly, how wise you are!' he exclaimed in involuntary admiration. +'No one, not even my father, put it so clearly. You are right, I do not +mean to sacrifice myself unless I can feel it my duty to do so. But it +is a question I must settle with myself.'</p> + +<p>'True, dear, only remember the brave old verse—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Stumbleth he who runneth fast?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dieth he who standeth still?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not by haste or rest can ever<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Man his destiny fulfil."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"Never hasting, never resting," a fine life-motto, Cardie; but our time +is nearly at an end, we must be going now.'</p> + +<p>As they walked along, Richard returned of his own accord to the subject +they had been discussing, and owned his indecision was a matter of great +grief to him.</p> + +<p>'Conscientious doubts will find their answer some day,' replied Mildred; +'but I wish you had not refused to confide them to your father.'</p> + +<p>Richard bit his lip.</p> + +<p>'It was wrong of me; I know it, Aunt Milly; but it would have been so +painful to him, and so humiliating to myself.'</p> + +<p>'Hardly so painful as to be treated like a stranger by his own son. You +have no idea how sorely your reserve has fretted him.'</p> + +<p>'It was cowardly of me; but indeed, Aunt Milly, the whole question was +involved in difficulty. My father is sometimes a little vague in his +manner of treating things; he is more scholarly than practical, and I +own I dreaded complication and disappointment.'</p> + +<p>Mildred sighed. Perhaps after all he was right. Her brother was +certainly a little dreamy and wanting in concentration and energy just +now; but little did Richard know the depth of his father's affection. +Just as the old war-horse will neigh at the sound of the battle, and be +ready to rush into the midst of the glittering phalanx, so would Arnold +Lambert have warred with the grisly phantoms of doubt and misbelief that +were leagued against Richard's boyish faith, ready to lay down his life +if need be for his boy; but as he sat hour after hour in his lonely +study, the sadness closed more heavily round him—sadness for his lost +love in heaven, his lost confidence on earth.</p> + +<p>Dr. Heriot gave Mildred and Richard a searching glance as they +re-entered the room. Both looked worn and pale, but a softened and +subdued expression was on Richard's face as he stood by the bedside, +looking down on his sister.</p> + +<p>'No change,' whispered Mildred.</p> + +<p>'None at present; but there may be a partial rally. Where is Mr. +Lambert, I want to speak to him;' and, as though to check further +questioning, Dr. Heriot reiterated a few instructions, and left the +room.</p> + +<p>The hours passed on. Richard, in spite of his aunt's whispered +remonstrances, still kept watch beside her; and Mr. Lambert, who as +usual had been praying by the side of his sick child, and had breathed +over her unconsciousness his solemn benediction, had just left the room, +when Mildred, who was giving her nourishment, noticed a slight change in +Olive, a sudden gleam of consciousness in her eyes, perhaps called forth +by her father's prayer, and she signed to Richard to bring him back.</p> + +<p>Was this the rally of which Dr. Heriot spoke? the brief flicker of the +expiring torch flaming up before it is extinguished? Olive seemed trying +to concentrate her drowsy faculties, the indistinct muttering became +painfully earnest, but the unhappy father, though he placed his ear to +the lips of the sinking girl, could connect no meaning with the +inarticulate sounds, until Mildred's greater calmness came to his help.</p> + +<p>'Home. I think she said home, Arnold;' and then with a quick intuitive +light that surprised herself, 'I think she wishes to know if God means +to take her home.'</p> + +<p>Olive's restlessness a little abated. This time the parched and +blackened lips certainly articulated 'home' and 'mother.' They could +almost fancy she smiled.</p> + +<p>'Oh, do not leave me, my child,' ejaculated Mr. Lambert, stretching out +his arms as though to keep her. 'God is good and merciful; He will not +take away another of my darlings; stay a little longer with your poor +father;' and Olive understood him, for the bright gleam faded away.</p> + +<p>'Oh, father, she will surely stay if we ask her,' broke in Richard in an +agitated voice, thrusting himself between them and speaking with a +hoarse sob; 'she is so good, and knows we all love her and want her. You +will not break my heart, Livy, you will forgive me and stay with us a +little?' and Richard flung himself on his knees and buried his head on +the pillow.</p> + +<p>Ah, the bright gleam had certainly faded now; there was a wandering, +almost a terrified expression in the hollow, brilliant eyes. Were those +gates closing on her? would they not let her go?</p> + +<p>'Cardie, dear Cardie, hush, you are agitating her; look how her eyelids +are quivering and she has no power to speak. Arnold, ask him to be +calm,' and Mr. Lambert, still holding his seemingly dying child, laid +his other hand on Richard's bent head.</p> + +<p>'Hush, my son, we must not grieve a departing spirit. I was wrong. His +will be done even in this. He has given, and He must take away; be +silent while I bless my child again, my child whom I am giving back to +Him and to her mother,' but as he lifted up his hands the same feeble +articulation smote on their ear.</p> + +<p>'Cardie wants me—poor Cardie—poor papa—not my will.'</p> + +<p>Did Mildred really catch those words, struggling like broken +breaths?—was it the cold sweat of the death-damp that gathered on the +clammy brow?—were the fingers growing cold and nerveless on which +Richard's hot lips were pressed?—were those dark eyes closing to earth +for ever?</p> + +<p>'Mildred—Richard—what is this?'</p> + +<p>'"Lord, if he sleep he shall do well!" exclaimed the disciples.'</p> + +<p>'Hush; thank God, this is sleep, natural sleep,—the crisis is passed, +we shall save her yet,' and Dr. Heriot, who had just entered, beckoned +the father and brother gently from the room.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + +<h3>COMING BACK</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'If Thou shouldst bring me back to life,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">More humble I should be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More wise, more strengthened for the strife<br /></span> +<span class="i2">More apt to lean on Thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should death be standing at the gate,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thus should I keep my vow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, Lord! whatever be my fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, let me serve Thee now!'—<span class="smcap">Anne Brontė.</span><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p>'This sickness is not unto death.'</p> + +<p>The news that the crisis had passed, and that the disease that had so +long baffled the physician's skill had taken a favourable turn, soon +spread over the town like wildfire; the shadow of death no longer +lingered on the threshold of the vicarage; there were trembling voices +raised in the <i>Te Deum</i> the next morning; the vicar's long pause in the +Thanksgiving was echoed by many a throbbing heart; Mildred's book was +wet with her tears, and even Chrissy looked softened and subdued.</p> + +<p>There were agitated greetings in the church porch afterwards. Olive's +sick heart would have been satisfied with the knowledge that she was +beloved if she had seen Roy's glistening eyes and the silent pressure of +congratulation that passed between her father and Richard.</p> + +<p>'Heriot, we feel that under Providence we owe our girl's life to you.'</p> + +<p>'You are equally beholden to her aunt's nursing; but indeed, Mr. +Lambert, I look upon your daughter's recovery as little less than a +miracle. I certainly felt myself justified to prepare you for the worst +last night; at one time she appeared to be sinking.'</p> + +<p>'She has been given back to us from the confines of the grave,' was the +solemn answer; and as he took his son's arm and they walked slowly down +the churchyard, he said, half to himself—'and a gift given back is +doubly precious.'</p> + +<p>The same thought seemed in his mind when Richard entered the study late +that night with the welcome tidings that Olive was again sleeping +calmly.</p> + +<p>'Oh, Cardie, last night we thought we should have lost our girl; after +all, God has been good to me beyond my deserts.'</p> + +<p>'We may all say that, father.'</p> + +<p>'I have been thinking that we have none of us appreciated Olive as we +ought; since she has been ill a hundred instances of her unselfishness +have occurred to me; in our trouble, Cardie, she thought for others, not +for herself. I never remember seeing her cry except once, and yet the +dear child loved her mother.'</p> + +<p>Richard's face paled a little, but he made no answer; he remembered but +too well the time to which his father alluded—how, when in his jealous +surveillance he had banished her from her father's room, he had found +her haunting the passages with her pale face and black dress, or sitting +on the stairs, a mute image of patience.</p> + +<p>No, there had been no evidence of her grief; others beside himself had +marvelled at her changeless and monotonous calm; she had harped on her +mother's name with a persistency that had driven him frantic, and he had +silenced the sacred syllables in a fit of nervous exasperation; from the +very first she had troubled and wearied him, she whom he was driven to +confess was immeasurably his superior. Yes, the scales had fallen from +his eyes, and as his father spoke a noble spirit pleaded in him, and the +rankling confession at last found vent in the deep inward cry—</p> + +<p>'Father, I have sinned against heaven and before Thee, in that I have +offended one of Thy little ones,' and the <i>Deo gratias</i> of an accepted +repentance and possible atonement followed close upon the words.</p> + +<p>'Father, I want to speak to you.'</p> + +<p>'Well, Cardie.'</p> + +<p>'I know how my silence has grieved you; Aunt Milly told me. I was +wrong—I see it now.'</p> + +<p>Richard's face was crimsoning with the effort, but the look in his +father's eyes as he laid his thin hand on his arm was sufficient reward.</p> + +<p>'Thank God for this, my boy, that you have spoken to me at last of your +own accord; it has lifted a heavy burden from my heart.'</p> + +<p>'I ought not to have refused my confidence; you were too good to me. I +did not deserve it.'</p> + +<p>'You thought you were strong enough to remove your own stumbling-blocks; +it is the fault of the young generation, Cardie; it would fain walk by +its own lights.'</p> + +<p>'I must allow my motives were mixed with folly, but the fear of +troubling you was predominant.'</p> + +<p>'I know it, I know it well, my son, but all the same I have yearned to +help you. I have myself to blame in this matter, but the thought that +you would not allow me to share your trouble was a greater punishment +than even I could bear; no, do not look so sorrowful, this moment has +repaid me for all my pain.'</p> + +<p>But it was not in Richard's nature to do anything by halves, and in his +generous compunction he refused to spare himself; the barrier of his +reserve once broken down, he made ample atonement for his past +reticence, and Mr. Lambert more than once was forced to admit that he +had misjudged his boy.</p> + +<p>Late into the night they talked, and when they parted the basis of a +perfect understanding was established between them; if his son's tardy +confidence had soothed and gratified Mr. Lambert, Richard on his side +was equally grateful for the patience and loving forbearance with which +his father strove to disentangle the webs that insidious argument had +woven in his clear young brain; there was much lurking mischief, much to +clear away and remove, difficulties that only time and prayerful +consideration could surmount; but however saddened Mr. Lambert might +feel in seeing the noxious weeds in that goodly vineyard, he was not +without hope that in time Richard's tarnished faith might gleam out +brightly again.</p> + +<p>During the weeks that ensued there were many opportunities for hours of +quiet study and talk between the father and son; in his new earnestness +Mr. Lambert became less vague, this fresh obstacle roused all his +energy; there was something pathetic in the spectacle of the worn +scholar and priest buckling on his ancient armour to do battle for his +boy; the old flash came to his eye, the ready vigour and eloquence to +his speech, gleams of sapient wisdom startled Richard into new +reverence, causing the young doubter to shrink and feel abashed.</p> + +<p>'If one could only know, if an angel from heaven might set the seal to +our assurance!' he exclaimed once. 'Father, only to know, to be sure of +these things.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, Cardie, what is that but following the example of the affectionate +but melancholy Didymus; "Blessed are they that have not seen and yet +have believed"; the drowning mariner cannot see the wind that is lashing +the waves that threaten to engulf his little bark, cannot "tell whence +it comes or whither it goes," yet faith settles the helm and holds the +rudder, and bids him cling to the spar when all seems over.'</p> + +<p>'But he feels it beyond and around him; he feels it as we feel the +warmth of the latent sunshine or the permeating influences of light; we +can see the light, father,' he continued eagerly, 'we can lift our eyes +eagle-wise to the sun if we will; why should our inner light be quenched +and clouded?'</p> + +<p>'To test our faith, to make us hold on more securely; after all, Cardie, +the world beyond—truth revealed—religion—look to us often through +life like light seen from the bottom of a well—below us darkness, then +space, narrowed to our perception, a glimmering of blue sky sown thick +with stars—light, keen and arrowy, shining somewhere in the depths; +some of us rise to the light, drawn irresistibly to it, a few remain at +the bottom of the well all their lives.'</p> + +<p>'And some are born blind.'</p> + +<p>'Let us leave them to the mercy of the Great Physician; in our case +scales may fall from our eyes, and still with imperfect vision we may +look up and see men as trees walking, but we must grope on still. Ah, my +boy, when in our religious hypochondria whole creeds desert us, and +shreds and particles only remain of a fragmentary and doubtful faith, +don't let us fight with shadows, which of their very nature elude and +fade out of our grasp; let us fall on our knees rather, Cardie, and +cry—"Lord, I believe—I will believe; help Thou my unbelief."'</p> + +<p>Many and many such talks were held, the hours and days slipping away, +Mildred meanwhile devoting herself to the precious work of nursing Olive +back to convalescence.</p> + +<p>It was a harder task than even Dr. Heriot expected; slowly, painfully, +almost unwillingly, the girl tottered back to life; now and then there +were sensible relapses of weakness; prostration, that was almost +deathlike, then a faint flicker, followed by a conscious rally, times +when they trembled and feared and then hoped again; when the shadowy +face and figure filled Mildred with vague alarm, and the blank +despondency in the large dark eyes haunted her with a sense of pain.</p> + +<p>In vain Mildred lavished on her the tenderest caresses; for days there +was no answering smile on the pallid face, and yet no invalid could be +more submissive.</p> + +<p>Unresistingly, uncomplainingly, Olive bore the weakness that was at +times almost unendurable; obediently she took from their hands the +nourishment they gave her; but there seemed no anxiety to shake off her +illness; it was as though she submitted to life rather than willed it, +nay, as though she received it back with a regret and reluctance that +caused even her unselfishness a struggle.</p> + +<p>Was the cloud returning? Had they been wrong to pray so earnestly for +her life? Would she come back to them a sadder and more weary Olive, to +tax their forbearance afresh, instead of winning an added love; was she +who had been as a little child set in their midst for an example of +patient humility, to carry this burden of despondent fear about with her +from the dark valley itself?</p> + +<p>Mildred was secretly trembling over these thoughts; they harassed and +oppressed her; she feared lest Richard's new reverence and love for his +sister should be impaired when he found the old infirmity still clinging +to her; even now the sad look in her eyes somewhat oppressed him.</p> + +<p>'Livy, you look sometimes as though you repented getting well,' he said +affectionately to her one day, when her languor and depression had been +very great.</p> + +<p>'Oh no, please don't say so, Cardie,' she returned faintly, but the last +trace of colour forsook her face at his words; 'how can—how can you say +that, when you know you wanted me?' and as the tears began to flow, +Richard, alarmed and perplexed, soothed and comforted her.</p> + +<p>Another day, when her father had been sitting by her, reading and +talking to her, he noticed that she looked at him with a sort of puzzled +wonder in her eyes.</p> + +<p>'What is it, my child?' he asked, leaning over her and stroking her hair +with caressing hand. 'Do you feel weary of the reading, Olive?'</p> + +<p>'No, oh no; it was beautiful,' she returned, with a trembling lip; 'I +was only thinking—wondering why you loved me.'</p> + +<p>'Love you, my darling! do not fathers love their children, especially +when they have such good affectionate children?'</p> + +<p>'But I am not good,' she returned, with something of her old shrinking. +'Oh, papa, why did you and Cardie want me so, your poor useless Olive; +even Cardie loves me now, and I have done nothing but lie here and give +trouble to you all; but you are all so good—so good,' and Olive buried +her pale face in her father's shoulder.</p> + +<p>The old self-depreciation waking up to life, the old enemy leaguing with +languor and despondency to mar the sweet hopefulness of convalescence. +Mildred in desperation determined to put her fears to the proof when +Olive grew strong enough to bear any conversation.</p> + +<p>The opportunity came sooner than she hoped.</p> + +<p>One day the cloud lifted a little. Roy had been admitted to his sister's +room, and his agitation and sorrow at her changed appearance and his +evident joy at seeing her again had roused Olive from her wonted +lethargy. Mildred found her afterwards lying exhausted but with a smile +on her face.</p> + +<p>'Dear Roy,' she murmured, 'how good he was to me. Oh, Aunt Milly,' +clasping Mildred's hands between her wasted fingers, 'I don't deserve +for them to be so dear and good to me, it makes me feel as though I were +wicked and ungrateful not to want to get well.'</p> + +<p>'I dreaded to hear you say this, Olive,' returned Mildred. As she sat +down beside her, her grieved look seemed a reproach to Olive.</p> + +<p>'It was not that I wanted to leave you all,' she said, laying her cheek +against the hand she held, 'but I have been such a trouble to every one +as well as to myself; it seemed so nice to have done with it all—all +the weariness and disappointment I mean.'</p> + +<p>'You were selfish for once in your life then, Olive,' returned Mildred, +trying to smile, but with a heavy heart.</p> + +<p>'I tried not to be,' she whispered. 'I did not want you to be sorry, +Aunt Milly, but I knew if I lived it would all come over again. It is +the old troublesome Olive you are nursing,' she continued softly, 'who +will try and disappoint you as she has always done. I can't get rid of +my old self, and that is why I am sorry.'</p> + +<p>'Sorry because we are glad; it is Olive and no other that we want.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, if I could believe that,' returned the girl, her eyes filling with +tears; 'but it sounds too beautiful to be true, and yet I know it was +only Cardie's voice that brought me back, he wanted me so badly, and he +asked me to stay. I heard him—I heard him sob, Aunt Milly,' clutching +her aunt with weak, nerveless fingers.</p> + +<p>'Are you sure, Olive? You were fainting, you know.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, I was falling—falling into dark, starry depths, full of living +creatures, wheels of light and flame seemed everywhere, and then +darkness. I thought mamma had got me in her arms, she seemed by me +through it all, and then I heard Cardie say I should break his heart, +and then he sobbed, and papa blessed me. I heard some gate close after +that, and mamma's arms seemed to loosen from me, and I knew then I was +not dying.'</p> + +<p>'But you were sorry, Olive.'</p> + +<p>'I tried not to be; but it was hard, oh, so hard, Aunt Milly. Think what +it was to have that door shut just as one's foot was on the threshold, +and when I thought it was all over and I had got mamma back again; but +it was wrong to grieve. I have not earned my rest.'</p> + +<p>'Hush, my child, you must not take up a new lease of life so sadly; this +is a gift, Olive, a talent straight from the Master's hands, to be +received with gratitude, to be used joyfully; by and by, when you are +stronger, you will find more beautiful work your death would have left +unfinished.'</p> + +<p>A weary look crossed Olive's face.</p> + +<p>'Shall I ever be strong enough to work again?'</p> + +<p>'You are working now; nay, my child,' as Olive looked up with languid +surprise, 'few of us are called upon to do a more difficult task than +yours; to take up life when we would choose death, to bear patiently the +discipline of suffering and inaction, to wait till He says "work."'</p> + +<p>'Dear Aunt Milly, you always say such comforting things. I thought I was +only doing nothing but give you trouble.'</p> + +<p>'There you were wrong, Olive; every time you suppress an impatient sigh, +every time you call up a smile to cheer us, you are advancing a step, +gaining a momentary advantage over your old enemy; you know my favourite +verses—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Broadest streams from narrowest sources,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Noblest trees from meanest seeds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mighty ends from small beginnings,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From lowly promise lofty deeds.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Acorns which the winds have scattered,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Future navies may provide;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thoughts at midnight, whispered lowly,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Prove a people's future guide."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>I am a firm believer in little efforts, Olive.'</p> + +<p>Olive was silent for a few minutes, but she appeared thinking deeply; +but when she spoke next it was in a calmer tone.</p> + +<p>'After all, Aunt Milly, want of courage is my greatest fault.'</p> + +<p>'I cannot deny it, dear.'</p> + +<p>'I am so afraid of responsibility that it seemed easier to die than to +face it. You were right; I was selfish to want to leave you all.'</p> + +<p>'You must try to rejoice with us that you are spared.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, I will try,' with a sigh; but as she began to look white and +exhausted, Mildred thought it wiser to drop the conversation.</p> + +<p>The family circle was again complete in the vicarage, and in the +evenings a part of the family always gathered in the sickroom. This was +hailed as a great privilege by the younger members—Roy, Polly, and +Chriss eagerly disputing it. It was an understood thing that Richard +should be always there; Olive seemed restless without him. Roy was her +next favourite; his gentleness and affection seemed to soothe her; but +Mildred noticed that Polly's bright flow of spirits somewhat oppressed +her, and it was not easy to check Chriss's voluble tongue.</p> + +<p>One evening Ethel was admitted. She had pleaded so hard that Richard had +at last overcome Olive's shrinking reluctance to face any one outside +the family circle; but even Olive's timidity was not proof against +Ethel's endearing ways; and as Miss Trelawny, shocked and distressed at +her changed appearance, folded the girl silently in her arms, the tears +gathered to her eyes, and for a moment she seemed unable to speak.</p> + +<p>'You must not be so sorry,' whispered Olive, gratefully; 'Aunt Milly +will soon nurse me quite well.'</p> + +<p>'But I was not prepared for such a change,' stammered Ethel. 'Dear +Olive, to think how you must have suffered! I should hardly have known +you; and yet,' she continued, impulsively, 'I never liked the look of +you so well.'</p> + +<p>'We tell her she has grown,' observed Richard, cheerfully; 'she has only +to get fat to make a fine woman. Aunt Milly has contrived such a +bewitching head-dress that we do not regret the loss of all that +beautiful hair.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, Cardie, as though that mattered;' but Olive blushed under her +brother's affectionate scrutiny. Ethel Trelawny was right when she owned +Olive's appearance had never pleased her more, emaciated and changed as +she was. The sad gentleness of the dark, unsmiling eyes was infinitely +attractive. The heavy sallowness was gone; the thin white face looked +fair and transparent; little rings of dark hair peeped under the lace +cap; but what struck Ethel most was the rapt and elevated expression of +the girl's face—a little dreamy, perhaps, but suggestive of another and +nobler Olive.</p> + +<p>'Oh, Olive, how strange it seems, to think you have come back to us +again, when Mildred thought you had gone!' ejaculated Ethel, in a tone +almost of awe.</p> + +<p>'Yes,' returned Olive, simply; 'I know what death means now. When I come +to die, I shall feel I know it all before.'</p> + +<p>'But you did not die, dear Olive!' exclaimed Ethel, in a startled voice. +'No one can know but Lazarus and the widow's son; and they have told us +nothing.'</p> + +<p>'Aunt Milly says they were not allowed to tell; she thinks there is +something awful in their silence; but all the same I shall always feel +that I know what dying means.'</p> + +<p>Ethel looked at her with a new reverence in her eyes. Was this the +stammering, awkward Olive?</p> + +<p>'Tell me what you mean,' she whispered gently; 'I cannot understand. One +must die before one can solve the mystery.'</p> + +<p>'And was I not dying?' returned Olive, in the same dreamy tone. 'When I +close my eyes I can bring it all back; the faintness, the dizziness, the +great circles of light, the deadly, shuddering cold creeping over my +limbs, every one weeping round me, and yet beyond a great silence and +darkness; we begin to understand what silence means then.'</p> + +<p>'A great writer once spoke of "voices at the other end of silence,"' +returned Ethel, in a stifled tone. This strange talk attracted and yet +oppressed her.</p> + +<p>'But silence itself—what is silence?—one sometimes stops to think +about it, and then its grandeur seems to crush one. What if silence be +the voice of God!'</p> + +<p>'Dear Livy, you must not excite yourself,' interrupted Richard; but his +tone was awestruck too.</p> + +<p>'Great thoughts do not excite,' she returned, calmly. She had forgotten +Ethel—all of them. From the couch where she lay she could see the dark +violet fells, the soft restful billows of green, silver splashes of +light through the trees. How peaceful and quiet it all looked. Ah! if it +had only been given her to walk in those green pastures and 'beside the +still waters of the Paradise of God;' if that day which shall be known +to the Lord 'had come to her when "at eventide it shall be +light;"'—eventide!—alas! for her there still must remain the burden +and heat of the day—sultry youth, weariness of premature age, 'light +that shall neither be clear nor dark,' before that blessed eventide +should come, 'and she should pass through the silence into the rest +beyond.'</p> + +<p>'Aunt Milly, if you or Cardie would read me something,' she said at +last, with a wonderful sadness in her voice; and as they hastened to +comply with her wish, the brief agitation vanished from her face. What +if it were not His will! what if some noble work stood ready to her +faltering hand, "content to fill a little space, if Thou be glorified!" +'Oh, I must learn to say that,' she whispered.</p> + +<p>'Are you tired, Livy?' asked Richard at last, as he paused a moment in +his reading; but there was no answer. Olive's eyes were closed. One thin +hand lay under her cheek, a tear hung on the eyelashes; but on the +sleeping face there lay an expression of quiet peace that was almost +childlike.</p> + +<p>It was noticed that Olive mended more rapidly from that evening. Dr. +Heriot had recommended change of air; and as Olive was too weak to bear +a long journey, Mildred took her to Redcar for a few weeks. Richard +accompanied them, but did not remain long, as his father seemed +unwilling to lose him during his last few months at home.</p> + +<p>During their absence two important events took place at the vicarage. +Dad Fabian paid his promised visit, and the new curate arrived. Polly's +and Chriss's letter brimmed over with news. 'Every one was delighted +with her dear old Dad,' Polly wrote; 'Richard was gracious, Mr. Lambert +friendly, and Roy enthusiastically admiring.'</p> + +<p>Dad had actually bought a new coat and had cut his hair, which Polly +owned was a grief to her; 'and his beard looked like everybody else's +beard,' wrote the girl with a groan. If it had not been for his +snuff-box she would hardly have known him. Some dealer had bought his +<i>Cain</i>, and the old man's empty pockets were replenished.</p> + +<p>It was a real joy to Olive's affectionate heart to know that Roy's +juvenile efforts were appreciated by so great a man.</p> + +<p>Mildred, who was almost as simple in worldly matters as her niece, was +also a devout believer in Dad Fabian's capabilities. The dark-lined +picture of Cain fleeing from his avenging conscience, with his weeping +guardian angel by his side, had made a great impression on her.</p> + +<p>Olive and she had long talks over Polly's rapid scrawls. Roy had genius, +and was to be an artist after all. He was to enter a London studio after +Christmas. Dad Fabian knew the widow of an artist living near Hampstead +who would board and lodge him, and look after him as though he were a +son of her own; and Dad Fabian himself was to act as his sponsor, +art-guide, and chaperon.</p> + +<p>'My guardian thinks very highly of Dad,' wrote Polly, in her pretty, +childish handwriting. 'He calls him an unappreciated genius, and says +Roy will be quite safe under his care. Dad is a little disappointed +Roy's forte is landscape painting; he wanted him to go in for high art; +but Roy paints clouds better than faces.'</p> + +<p>'Dear Roy, how we shall miss him!' sighed Olive, as she laid the letter +down.</p> + +<p>'Polly more than any one,' observed Mildred, thinking how strange it +would be to see one bright face without the other close to it.</p> + +<p>The new curate was rather a tame affair after this.</p> + +<p>'His name is Hugh Marsden, and he is to live at Miss Farrer's, the +milliner,' announced Olive one day, when she had received a letter from +Richard. 'Miss Farrer has two very nice rooms looking over the +market-place. Her last lodger was a young engineer, and it made a great +difference to her income when he left her. Richard says he is a "Queen's +man, and a very nice fellow;" he is only in deacon's orders.'</p> + +<p>'Let us see what Chriss has to say about him in her letter,' returned +Mildred; but she contemplated a little ruefully the crabbed, irregular +writing, every word looking like a miniature edition of Contradiction +Chriss herself.</p> + +<p>'Mr. Marsden has arrived,' scrawled Chriss, 'and has just had tea here. +I don't think we shall like him at all. Roy says he is a jolly fellow, +and is fond of cricket and fishing, and those sort of things, but he +looks too much like a big boy for my taste; I don't like such large +young men; and he has big hands and feet and a great voice, and his +laugh is as big as the rest of him. I think him dreadfully ugly, but +Polly says "No, he has nice honest eyes."</p> + +<p>'He tried to talk to Polly and me; only wasn't it rude, Aunt Milly? He +called me my dear, and asked me if I liked dolls. I felt I could have +withered him on the spot, only he was so stupid and obtuse that he took +no notice, and went on about his little sister Sophy, who had twelve +dolls, whom she dressed to represent the twelve months in the year, and +how she nearly broke her heart when he sat down on them by accident and +smashed July.'</p> + +<p>Roy gave a comical description of the whole thing and Chriss's wrathful +discomfiture.</p> + +<p>'We have just had great fun,' he wrote; 'the Rev. Hugh has just been +here to tea; he is a capital fellow—up to larks, and with plenty of go +in him, and with a fine deep voice for intoning; he is wild about +training the choir already. He talked a great deal about his mother and +sisters; he is an only son. I bet you anything, you women will be bored +to death with Dora, Florence, and Sophy. If they are like him they are +not handsome. One thing I must tell you, he riled Contradiction awfully +by asking her if she liked dolls; she was Pugilist Pug then and no +mistake. You should have seen the air with which she drew herself up. "I +suppose you take me for a little girl," quoth she. Marsden's face was a +study. "I am afraid you will take her for a spoilt one," says Dad, +patting her shoulder, which only made matters worse. "I think your +sister must be very silly with her twelve seasons," bursts out Chriss. +"I would sooner do algebra than play with dolls; but if you will excuse +me, I have my Cęsar to construe;" and she walked out of the room with +her chin in the air, and every curl on her head bristling with wrath. +Marsden sat open-mouthed with astonishment, and Dad was forced to +apologise; and there was Polly all the time "behaving like a little +lady."'</p> + +<p>'As though Polly could do wrong,' observed Mildred with a smile, as she +finished Roy's ridiculous effusion.</p> + +<p>It was the beginning of October when they returned home. Olive had by +this time recovered her strength, and was able to enjoy her rambles on +the sand; and though Mr. Lambert found fault with the thin cheeks and +lack of robustness, his anxiety was set at rest by Mildred, who declared +Olive had done credit to her nursing, and a little want of flesh was all +the fault that could be found with her charge.</p> + +<p>The welcome home was sweet to the restored invalid. Richard's kiss was +scarcely less fond than her father's. Roy pinched her cheek to be sure +that this was a real, and not a make-believe, Olive; while Polly +followed her to her room to assure herself that her hair had really +grown half an inch, as Aunt Milly declared it had.</p> + +<p>Nor was Mildred's welcome less hearty.</p> + +<p>'How good it is to see you in your old place, Aunt Milly,' said Richard, +with an affectionate glance, as he placed himself beside her at the +tea-table.</p> + +<p>'We have missed you, Milly!' exclaimed her brother a moment afterwards. +'Heriot was saying only last night that the vicarage did not seem itself +without you.'</p> + +<p>'Nothing is right without Aunt Milly!' cried Polly, with a squeeze; and +Roy chimed in, indignantly, 'Of course not; as though we could do +without Aunt Milly!'</p> + +<p>The new curate was discussed the first evening. Mr. Lambert and Richard +were loud in their praises; and though Chriss muttered to herself in a +surly undertone, nobody minded her.</p> + +<p>His introduction to Olive happened after a somewhat amusing fashion.</p> + +<p>He was crossing the hall the next day, on his way to the vicar's study, +when Roy bade him go into the drawing-room and make acquaintance with +Aunt Milly.</p> + +<p>It happened that Mildred had just left the room, and Olive was sitting +alone, working.</p> + +<p>She looked up a little surprised at the tall, broad-shouldered young man +who was making his way across the room.</p> + +<p>'Royal told me I should find you here, Miss Lambert. I hope your niece +has recovered the fatigue of her journey.'</p> + +<p>'I am not Aunt Milly; I am Olive,' returned the girl, gravely, but not +refusing the proffered hand. 'You are my father's new curate, Mr. +Marsden, I suppose?'</p> + +<p>'Yes; I beg your pardon, I have made a foolish mistake I see,' returned +the young man, confusedly, stammering and flushing over his words. +'Royal sent me in to find his aunt, and—and—I did not notice.'</p> + +<p>'What does it matter?' returned Olive, simply. The curate's evident +nervousness made her anxious to set him at his ease. 'You could not +know; and Aunt Milly looks so young, and my illness has changed me. It +was such a natural mistake, you see,' with the soft seriousness with +which Olive always spoke now.</p> + +<p>'Thank you; yes, of course,' stammered Hugh, twirling his felt hat +through his fingers, and looking down at her with a sort of puzzled +wonder. The grave young face under the quaint head-dress, the soft dark +hair just parted on the forehead, the large earnest eyes, candid, and +yet unsmiling, filled him with a sort of awe and reverence.</p> + +<p>'You have been very ill,' he said at last, with a pitying chord in his +voice. 'People do not look like that who have not suffered. You remind +me,' he continued, sitting down beside her, and speaking a little +huskily, 'of a sister whom I lost not so very long ago.'</p> + +<p>Olive looked up with a sudden gleam in her eyes.</p> + +<p>'Did she die?'</p> + +<p>'Yes. You are more fortunate, Miss Lambert; you were permitted to get +well.'</p> + +<p>'You are a clergyman, and you say that,' she returned, a little +breathlessly. 'If it were not wrong I should envy your sister, who +finished her work so young.'</p> + +<p>'Hush, Miss Lambert, that is wrong,' replied Hugh. His brief nervousness +had vanished; he was quite grave now; his round, boyish face, ruddy and +brown with exercise, paled a little with his earnestness and the memory +of a past pain.</p> + +<p>'Caroline wanted to live, and you want to die,' he said, in a voice full +of rebuke. 'She cried because she was young, and did not wish to leave +us, and because she feared death; and you are sorry to live.'</p> + +<p>'I have always found life so hard,' sighed Olive. It did not seem +strange to her that she should be talking thus to a stranger; was he not +a clergyman—her father's curate—in spite of his boyish face? 'St. Paul +thought it was better, you know; but indeed I am trying to be glad, Mr. +Marsden, that I have all this time before me.'</p> + +<p>'Trying to be glad for the gift of life!' Here was a mystery to be +solved by the Rev. Hugh Marsden, he who rejoiced in life with the whole +strength of his vigorous young heart; who loved all living things, man, +woman, and child—nay, the very dumb animals themselves; who drank in +light and vigour and cheerfulness as his daily food; who was glad for +mere gladness' sake; to whom sin was the only evil in the world, and +suffering a privilege, and not a punishment; who measured all things, +animate and inanimate, with a merciful breadth of views, full of that +'charity that thinketh no evil,'—he to be told by this grave, pale girl +that she envied his sister who died.</p> + +<p>'What is the matter—have I shocked you?' asked Olive, her sensitiveness +taking alarm at his silence.</p> + +<p>'Yes—no; I am sorry for you, that is all, Miss Lambert. I am young, but +I am a clergyman, as you say. I love life, as I love all the good gifts +of my God; and I think,' hesitating and dropping his voice, 'your one +prayer should be, that He may teach you to be glad.'</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2> + +<h3>THREE YEARS AFTERWARDS—A RETROSPECT</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'And still I changed—I was a boy no more;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart was large enough to hold my kind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the world. As hath been apt before<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With youth, I sought, but I could never find<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Work hard enough to quiet my self-strife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the strength of action craving life.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She, too, was changed.'—<span class="smcap">Jean Ingelow.</span><br /></span> +</div></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>In the histories of most families there are long even pauses during +which life flows smoothly in uneventful channels, when there are few +breaks and fewer incidents to chronicle; times when the silent +ingathering of individual interests deepens and widens imperceptibly +into an under-current of strength ready for the crises of emergency. +Times of peace alternating with the petty warfare which is the +prerogative of kinsmanship, a blessed routine of daily duty misnamed by +the young monotony, but which in reality is to train them for the rank +and file in the great human army hereafter; quiescent times during which +the memory of past troubles is mercifully obliterated by present ease, +and 'the cloud no bigger than a man's hand' does not as yet obscure the +soft breadth of heaven's blue.</p> + +<p>Such a time had come to the Lamberts. The three years that followed +Olive's illness and tardy convalescence were quite uneventful ones, +marked with few incidents worthy of note; outwardly things had seemed +unchanged, but how deep and strong was the under-current of each young +individual life; what rapid developments, what unfolding of fresh life +and interests in the budding manhood and womanhood within the old +vicarage walls.</p> + +<p>Such thoughts as these came tranquilly to Mildred as she sat alone one +July day in the same room where, three years before, the Angels of Life +and Death had wrestled over one frail girl, in the room where she had so +patiently and tenderly nursed Olive's sick body and mind back to health.</p> + +<p>For once in her life busy Mildred was idle, the work lay unfolded beside +her, while her eyes wandered dreamily over the fair expanse of sunny +green dotted with browsing sheep and tuneful with the plaintive bleating +of lambs; there was a crisp crunching of cattle hoofs on the beck gravel +below, a light wind touched the elms and thorns and woke a soft +soughing, the tall poplar swayed drowsily with a flicker of shaking +leaves; beyond the sunshine lay the blue dusk of the circling hills, +prospect fit to inspire a daydream, even in a nature more prosaic than +Mildred Lambert's.</p> + +<p>It was Mildred's birthday; she was thirty to-day, and she was smiling to +herself at the thoughts that she felt younger and brighter and happier +than she had three years before.</p> + +<p>They had been such peaceful years, full of congenial work and blessed +with sympathetic fellowship; she had sown so poorly, she thought, and +had reaped such rich harvests of requited love; she had come amongst +them a stranger three years ago, and now she could number friends by the +score; even her poorer neighbours loved and trusted her, their northern +reserve quite broken down by her tender womanly graces.</p> + +<p>'There are two people in Kirkby Stephen that would be sorely missed,' a +respectable tradesman once said to Miss Trelawny, 'and they are Miss +Lambert and Dr. Heriot, and I don't know which is the greater favourite. +I should have lost my wife last year but for her; she sat up with her +three nights running when that fever got hold of her.'</p> + +<p>And an old woman in the workhouse said once to Dr. Heriot when he wished +her to see the vicar:</p> + +<p>'Nae thanks to ye, doctor; ye needn't bother yersel' about minister, +Miss Lambert has sense enough. I wudn't git mair gude words nir she +gi'es; she's terrible gude, bless her;' and many would have echoed old +Sally Bates's opinion.</p> + +<p>Mildred's downright simplicity and unselfishness were winning all +hearts.</p> + +<p>'Aunt Milly has such a trustworthy face, people are obliged to tell +their troubles when they look at her,' Polly said once, and perhaps the +girl held the right clue to the secret of Mildred Lambert's influence.</p> + +<p>Real sympathy, that spontaneity of vigorous warm feeling emanating from +the sight of others' pain, is rarer than we imagine. Without exactly +giving expression to conventional forms of condolence, Mildred conveyed +the most delicate sympathy in every look and word; by a rapid transit of +emotion, she seemed to place herself in the position of the bereaved; to +feel as they felt—the sacred silence of sorrow; her few words never +grazed the outer edge of that bitter irritability that trenches on great +pain, and so her mere presence seemed to soothe them.</p> + +<p>Her perfect unconsciousness added to this feeling; there were times when +Mildred's sympathy was so intense that she absolutely lost herself. +'What have I done that you should thank me?' was a common speech with +her; in her own opinion she had done absolutely nothing; she had so +merged her own individual feelings into the case before her that +gratitude was a literal shock to her, and this same simplicity kept her +quiet and humble under the growing idolatry of her nephews and nieces.</p> + +<p>'My dear Miss Lambert, how they all love you,' Mrs. Delaware said to her +once; 'even that fine grown young man Richard seems to lay himself out +to please you.'</p> + +<p>'How can they help loving me,' returned Mildred, with that shy soft +smile of hers, 'when I love them so dearly, and they see it? Of course I +do not deserve it; but it is the old story, love begets love;' and the +glad, steady light in her eyes spoke of her deep content.</p> + +<p>Yes, Mildred was happy; the quiet woman joyed in her life with an +intense appreciation that Olive would have envied. Mildred never guessed +that there were secret springs to this fountain of gladness, that the +strongly-cemented friendship between herself and Dr. Heriot added a +fresh charm to her life, investing it with the atmosphere of unknown +vigour and strength. Mildred had always been proud of her brother's +intellect and goodness, but she had never learnt to rely so entirely on +his sagacity as she now did on Dr. Heriot.</p> + +<p>If any one had questioned her feelings with respect to the vicarage +Mentor, Mildred would have assured them with her sweet honesty that her +brother's friend was hers also, that she did full justice to his merits, +and was ready to own that his absence would leave a terrible gap in +their circle; but even Mildred did not know how much she had learnt to +depend on the sympathy that never failed her and the quick appreciation +that was almost intuitive.</p> + +<p>Mildred knew that Dr. Heriot liked her; he had found her trustworthy in +time of need, and he showed his gratitude by making fresh demands on her +time and patience most unblushingly: in his intercourse with her there +had always been a curious mixture of reverence and tenderness which was +far removed from any warmer feeling, though in one sense it might be +called brotherly.</p> + +<p>Perhaps Mildred was to blame for this; in spite of her appreciation of +Dr. Heriot, she had never broken through her habit of shy reserve, which +was a second nature with her—the old girlish Mildred was hidden out of +sight. Dr. Heriot only saw in his friend's sister a gentle, soft-eyed +woman, seeming older than she really was, and with tender, old-fashioned +ways, always habited in sober grays and with a certain staidness of mien +and quiet precision of speech, which, with all its restfulness, took +away the impression of youth.</p> + +<p>Yes, good and womanly as he thought her, Dr. Heriot was ignorant of the +real Mildred. Aunt Milly alone with her boys, blushing and dimpling +under their saucy praise, would have shattered all his ideas of +primness; just as those fits of wise eloquence, while Olive and Polly +lingered near her in the dark, the sweet impulse of words that stirred +them to their hearts' core, would have roused his latent enthusiasm to +the utmost.</p> + +<p>Dr. Heriot's true ideal of womanly beauty and goodness passed his door +daily, disguised in Quaker grays and the large shady black hat that was +for use and not for ornament, but he did not know it; when he looked out +it was to note how fresh and piquant Polly looked in her white dress and +blue ribbons as she tripped beside Mildred, or how the Spanish hat with +its long black feather suited Olive's sombre complexion.</p> + +<p>Olive had greatly improved since her illness; she was still irredeemably +plain in her own eyes, but few were ready to endorse this opinion; her +figure had rounded and filled out into almost majestic proportions, her +shoulders had lost their ungainly stoop, and her slow movements were not +without grace.</p> + +<p>Her complexion would always be sallow, but the dark abundant hair was +now arranged to some advantage, and the large earnest eyes were her +redeeming features, while a settled but soft seriousness had replaced +the old absorbing melancholy.</p> + +<p>Olive would never look on the brighter side of life as a happier and +more sanguine temperament would; she still took life seriously, almost +solemnly, though she had ceased to repine that length of days had been +given her; with her, conscientiousness was still a fault, and she would +ever be given to weigh herself carefully and be found wanting; but there +were times when even Olive owned herself happy, when the grave face +would relax into smiles and the dark eyes grow bright and soft.</p> + +<p>And there were reasons for this; Olive no longer suffered the pangs of +passionate and unrequited love, and her heart was at rest concerning +Richard.</p> + +<p>For two years the sad groping after truth, the mute search for vocation, +the conflict between duty and inclination, had continued, and still the +grave, stern face, kindly but impressive, has given no clue to his +future plans. 'I will tell you when I know myself, father,' was his +parting speech more than once. 'I trust you, Cardie, and I am content to +wait,' was ever his father's answer.</p> + +<p>But deliverance came at last, when the fetters fell off the noble young +soul, when every word in the letter that reached Mr. Lambert spoke of +the new-born gladness that filled his son's heart; there was no +reticence.</p> + +<p>'You trusted me and you were content to wait then; how often I have +repeated these words to myself, dear father; you have waited, and now +your patience shall be rewarded.</p> + +<p>'Father, at last I know myself and my own mind; the last wave of doubt +and fear has rolled off me; I can see it all now, I feel sure. I write +it tremblingly. I feel sure that it is all true.</p> + +<p>'Oh, how good God has been to me! I feel almost like the prodigal; only +no husks could have satisfied me for a moment; it was only the truth I +wanted—truth literal and divine; and, father, you have no reason to +think sadly of me any longer, for "before eventide my light has come."'</p> + +<p>'I am writing now to tell you that it is my firm and unalterable +intention to carry out your and my mother's wishes with respect to my +profession; will you ask my friends not to seek to dissuade me, +especially my friends at Kirkleatham? You know how sorely inclination +has already tempted me; believe me, I have counted the cost and weighed +the whole matter calmly and dispassionately. I have much to +relinquish—many favourite pursuits, many secret ambitions—but shall I +give what costs me nothing? and after all I am only thankful that I am +not considered too unworthy for the work.'</p> + +<p>It was this letter, so humble and so manly, that filled Olive's brown +eyes with light and lifted the weight from her heart. Cardie had not +disappointed her; he had been true to himself and his own convictions. +Mildred alone had her misgivings; when she next saw Richard, she thought +that he looked worn and pale, and even fancied his cheerfulness was a +little forced; and his admission that he had slept badly for two or +three nights so filled her with alarm that she determined to speak to +him at all costs.</p> + +<p>His composed and devout demeanour at service next morning, however, a +little comforted her, and she was hesitating whether the change in him +might be her own fancy, when Richard himself broke the ice by an abrupt +question as they were walking towards Musgrave that same afternoon.</p> + +<p>'What is all this about Ethel Trelawny, Aunt Milly?'</p> + +<p>And Mildred absolutely started at his tone, it was suppressed and yet so +eager.</p> + +<p>'She will not return to Kirkleatham for some weeks, Richard; she and her +father are visiting in Scotland.'</p> + +<p>Richard turned very pale.</p> + +<p>'It is true, then, Aunt Milly?'</p> + +<p>'What is true?'</p> + +<p>'That she is engaged to that man?'</p> + +<p>'To Sir Robert Ferrers? What! have you heard of that? No, indeed, +Richard, she has refused him most decidedly; why he is old enough to be +her father!'</p> + +<p>'That is no objection with some women. Are you sure? They are not in +Renfrewshire, then?'</p> + +<p>'They have never been there; they are staying with friends near +Ballater. Why, Richard, what is this?' as Richard stopped as though he +were giddy and covered his face with his hands.</p> + +<p>'I never meant you or any one to know,' he gasped at length, while +Mildred watched his varying colour with alarm; 'but I have not been able +to sleep since I heard, and the suddenness of the relief—oh! are you +quite sure, Aunt Milly?' with a painful eagerness in his tone very +strange to hear in grave, self-contained Richard.</p> + +<p>'Dear Cardie, let there be full confidence between us; you see you have +unwittingly betrayed yourself.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, I have betrayed myself,' he muttered with increasing agitation; +'what a fool you must think me, Aunt Milly, and all because I could not +put a question quietly; but I was not prepared for your answer; what a +consummate——'</p> + +<p>'Hush, don't call yourself names. I knew your secret long ago, Cardie. I +knew what friends you and Ethel Trelawny were.'</p> + +<p>A boyish flush suffused his face.</p> + +<p>'Ethel is very fond of her old playmate.'</p> + +<p>He winced as though with sudden pain.</p> + +<p>'Ah, that is just it, Aunt Milly; she is fond of me and nothing else.'</p> + +<p>'I like her name for you, Cœur-de-Lion, it sounds so musical from her +lips; you are her friend, Richard; she trusts you implicitly.'</p> + +<p>'I believe—I hope she does;' but drawing his hand again before his +eyes, 'I am too young, Aunt Milly. I was only one-and-twenty last +month.'</p> + +<p>'True, and Sir Robert was nearly fifty; she refused a fine estate +there.'</p> + +<p>'Was her father angry with her?'</p> + +<p>'Not so terribly incensed as he was about Mr. Cathcart the year before. +Mr. Cathcart had double his fortune and was a young, good-looking man. I +was almost afraid that in her misery she should be driven to marry him.'</p> + +<p>'He has no right to persecute her so; why should he be so anxious to get +rid of his only child?'</p> + +<p>'That is what we all say. Poor Ethel, hers is no light cross. I am +thankful she is beginning to take it patiently; the loss of a father's +love must be dreadful, and hers is a proud spirit.'</p> + +<p>'But not now; you said yourself, Aunt Milly, how nobly she behaved in +that last affair.'</p> + +<p>'True,' continued Mildred in a sorrowful tone; 'all the more that she +was inclined to succumb to a momentary fascination; but I am certain +that with all his intellect Mr. Cathcart would have been a most +undesirable husband for her; Sir Robert Ferrers is far preferable.'</p> + +<p>'Aunt Milly!'</p> + +<p>'Yes, Richard, and I told her so; but her only answer was that she would +not marry where she could not love. I am afraid this will widen the +breach between her and her father; her last letter was very sad.'</p> + +<p>'It is tyranny, downright persecution; how dares he. Oh, Aunt Milly!' in +a tone of deep despondency, 'if I were only ten years older.'</p> + +<p>'I am afraid you are very young, Cardie. I wish you had not set your +heart on this.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, we are too much of an age; but she need not fear, I am older in +everything than she; there is nothing boyish about me, is there, Aunt +Milly?'</p> + +<p>'Not in your love for Ethel, I am afraid; but, Cardie, what would her +father say if he knew it?'</p> + +<p>'He will know it some day. Look here, Aunt Milly, I am one-and-twenty +now, and I have loved Ethel, Miss Trelawny I mean, since I was a boy of +twelve; people may laugh, but I felt for my old playmate something of +what I feel now. She was always different from any one else in my eyes. +I remember telling my mother when I was only ten that Ethel should be my +wife.'</p> + +<p>'But, Richard——'</p> + +<p>'I know what you are going to say—that it is all hopeless moonshine, +that a curate with four or five hundred a year has no right to presume +to Mr. Trelawny's heiress; that is what he and the world will tell me; +but how am I to help loving her?'</p> + +<p>'What am I to say to you, Cardie? Long before you are your father's +curate Ethel may have met the man she can love.'</p> + +<p>'Then I shall bear my trouble, I hope, manfully. Don't you think this is +my one dread, that and being so young in her eyes? How little she knew +how she tempted me when she told me I ought to distinguish myself at the +Bar; I felt as though it were giving her up when I decided on taking +orders.'</p> + +<p>'She would call you a veritable Cœur-de-Lion if she knew. Oh! my poor +boy, how hardly this has gone with you,' as Richard's face whitened +again with emotion.</p> + +<p>'It has been terribly hard,' he returned, almost inaudibly; 'it was not +so much at last reluctance and fear of the work as the horrible dread of +losing her by my own act. I thought—it was foolish and young of me, I +daresay—but I thought that as people spoke of my capabilities I might +in time win a position that should be worthy even of her. Oh, Aunt +Milly! what a fool you must think me.'</p> + +<p>Richard's clear glance was overcast with pain as he spoke, but Mildred's +affectionate smile spoke volumes.</p> + +<p>'I think I never loved you so well, Cardie, now I know how nobly you +have acted. Have you told your father of this?'</p> + +<p>'No, but I am sure he knows; you have no idea how much he notices; he +said something to me once that showed me he was aware of my feelings; we +have no secrets now; that is your doing, Aunt Milly.'</p> + +<p>Mildred shook her head.</p> + +<p>'Ah, but it was; you were the first to break down my reserve; what a +churl I must have been in those days. You all think too well of me as it +is. Livy especially puts me in a bad humour with myself.'</p> + +<p>'I wanted to speak to you of Olive, Richard; are you not thankful that +she has found her vocation at last?'</p> + +<p>'Indeed I am. I wrote my congratulations by return of post. Fancy Kirke +and Steadman undertaking to publish those poems, and Livy only +eighteen!'</p> + +<p>'Dr. Heriot always told us she had genius. Some of them are really very +beautiful. Dear Olive, you should have seen her face when the letter +came.'</p> + +<p>'I know; I would have given anything to be there.'</p> + +<p>'She looked quite radiant, and yet so touchingly humble when she held it +out to her father, and then without waiting for us to read it she left +the room. I know she was thanking God for it on her knees, Richard, +while we were all gossiping to Dr. Heriot on Livy's good fortune.'</p> + +<p>Richard looked touched.</p> + +<p>'What an example she is to us all; if she would only believe half the +good of herself that we do, Aunt Milly.'</p> + +<p>'Then she would lose all her childlike humility. I think she gets less +morbidly self-conscious year by year; there is no denying she is +brighter.'</p> + +<p>'She could not help it, brought into contact with such a nature as +Marsden's; that fellow gives one the impression of perfect mental and +bodily health. Dr. John told me it was quite refreshing to look at him.'</p> + +<p>'Chriss amuses me, she will have it he is so noisy.'</p> + +<p>'He has a loud laugh certainly, and his voice is not exactly +low-pitched, but he is a splendid fellow. Roy keeps up a steady +correspondence with him. By the bye, I have not shown you my last letter +from Rome;' and Richard, who had regained his tranquillity and ordinary +manner, pulled the thin, foreign-looking envelope from his breast-pocket +and entertained Mildred for the remainder of the way with an amusing +account of some of Roy's Roman adventures.</p> + +<p>That night, as Richard sat alone with his father in the study, Mr. +Lambert placed his hand affectionately on his son's broad shoulder with +a look that was rather more scrutinising than usual.</p> + +<p>'So the last cloud has cleared away; that is right, Cardie.'</p> + +<p>'I do not understand you, father;' but the young man faltered a little +under his father's quiet glance.</p> + +<p>'Nay, it is for you to explain; only last night you seemed as though you +had some trouble on your mind, you were anxious and absorbed, and this +evening the oppression seems removed.'</p> + +<p>For a moment Richard hesitated, and the old boyish flush came to his +face, and then his determination was taken.</p> + +<p>'Father,' he said, speaking in a quick, resolute tone, and tossing back +his wave of dark hair as he spoke, always a trick of his when agitated, +'there shall be no half-confidence between us; yesterday I was heavy at +heart because I thought Ethel Trelawny would marry Sir Robert Ferrers; +to-day I hear she has refused him and the weight is gone.'</p> + +<p>Mr. Lambert gave a low, dismayed exclamation, and his hand dropped from +his son's shoulder.</p> + +<p>'Ah, is it so, my poor boy?' he said at last, and there was no mistaking +the sorrowful tone.</p> + +<p>'Yes, it is so, father,' he returned firmly; 'you may call me a fool for +my pains—I do not know, perhaps I am one—but it is too late to help it +now; the mischief is of too long standing.'</p> + +<p>In spite of his very real sympathy a smile crossed his father's lips, +and yet as he looked at Richard it somehow died away. Youthful as he +was, barely one-and-twenty, there was a set determination, a staid +manliness, in his whole mien that added five years at least to his age.</p> + +<p>Even to a disinterested eye he seemed a son of whom any father might be +proud; not tall—the massive, thick-set figure seemed made for strength +more than grace—but the face was pre-eminently handsome, the dark eyes +beamed with intelligence, the forehead was broad and benevolent, the +lips still closed with the old inflexibility, but the hard lines had +relaxed: firm and dominant, yet ruled by the single eye of integral +principle; there was no fear that Richard Lambert would ever overstep +the boundaries of a clearly-defined right.</p> + +<p>'That is my brave boy,' murmured his father at last, watching him with a +sort of wistful pain; 'but, Cardie, I cannot but feel grieved that you +have set your heart on this girl.'</p> + +<p>'What! do you doubt the wisdom or the fitness of my choice?' demanded +the young man hotly.</p> + +<p>'Both, Cardie; the girl is everything that one could wish; dear to me +almost as a daughter of my own, but Trelawny—ah, my poor boy, do you +dream that you can satisfy her father's ambition?'</p> + +<p>'I shall not try to do so,' returned Richard, speaking with set lips; 'I +know him too well; he would sell her to the highest bidder, sell his own +flesh and blood; but she is too noble for his corrupting influence.'</p> + +<p>'You speak bitterly, Cardie.'</p> + +<p>'I speak as I feel. Look here, father, foolishly or wisely, it does not +matter now, I have set my heart on this thing; I have grown up with this +one idea before me, the hope of one day, however distant, calling Ethel +Trelawny my wife. I do not think I am one to change.'</p> + +<p>Mr. Lambert shook his head.</p> + +<p>'I fear not, Cardie.'</p> + +<p>'I am as sure of the faithfulness of my own heart as I am that I am +standing here; young as I am, I know I love her as you loved my mother.'</p> + +<p>His father covered his face with his hand.</p> + +<p>'No, no; do not say that, Cardie.'</p> + +<p>'I must say what is true; you would not have me lie to you.'</p> + +<p>'Surely not; but, my boy, this is a hard hearing.'</p> + +<p>'You are thinking of Mr. Trelawny,' returned Richard, quietly; 'that is +not my worst fear; my chief obstacle is Ethel herself.'</p> + +<p>'What! you doubt her returning your affection?' asked his father.</p> + +<p>'Yes, I doubt it,' was the truthful answer; but it was made with +quivering lips. 'I dread lest I should not satisfy her exacting +fastidiousness; but all the same I mean to try; you will bid me +Godspeed, father?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, yes; but, Cardie, be prudent, remember how little you have to +offer—a few hundreds a year where she has thousands, not even a +curacy!'</p> + +<p>'You think I ought to wait a little; another year—two perhaps?'</p> + +<p>'That is my opinion, certainly.'</p> + +<p>Richard crossed the room once or twice with a rapid, disordered stride, +and then he returned to his father's side.</p> + +<p>'You are right; I must not do anything rashly or impulsively just +because I fear to lose her. I ought not to speak even to her until I +have taken orders; and yet if I could only make her understand how it is +without speaking.'</p> + +<p>'You must be very prudent, Cardie; remember my son has no right to +aspire to an heiress.'</p> + +<p>Richard's face clouded.</p> + +<p>'That dreadful money! There is one comfort—I believe she hates it as +much as I do; but it is not entailed property—he can leave it all away +from her.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, if she displeases him. Mildred tells me he holds this threat +perpetually over her; poor girl, he makes her a bad father.'</p> + +<p>'His conduct is unjustifiable in every way,' returned Richard in a +stifled voice; 'any one less noble would be tempted to make their escape +at all hazards, but she endures her wretchedness so patiently. Sometimes +I fancy, father, that when she can bear her loneliness no longer my time +for speaking will come, and then——'</p> + +<p>But Richard had no time to finish his sentence, for just then Dr. +Heriot's knock sounded at the door, and with a mute hand-shake of +perfect confidence the father and son separated for the night.</p> + +<p>This conversation had taken place nearly a year before, but from that +time it had never been resumed; sacredly did Mr. Lambert guard his boy's +confidence, and save that there was a deferential tenderness in his +manner to Ethel Trelawny and a wistful pain in his eyes when he saw +Richard beside her, no one would have guessed how heavily his son's +future weighed on his heart. Richard's manner remained unchanged; it was +a little graver, perhaps, and indicative of greater thoughtfulness, but +there was nothing lover-like in his demeanour, nothing that would check +or repel the warm sisterly affection that Ethel evidently cherished for +him; only at times Ethel wondered why it was that Richard's opinions +seemed to influence her more than they used, and to marvel at her vivid +remembrance of past looks and speeches.</p> + +<p>Somehow every time she saw him he seemed less like her old playmate, +Cœur-de-Lion, and transformed into an older and graver Richard; +perhaps it might be that the halo of the future priesthood already +surrounded him; but for whatever reason it might be, Ethel was certainly +less dictatorial and argumentative in her demeanour towards him, and +that a very real friendship seemed growing up between them.</p> + +<p>Richard was more than two-and-twenty now, and Roy just a year younger; +in another eight months he would be ordained deacon; as yet he had made +no sign, but as Mildred sat pondering over the retrospect of the three +last years in the golden and dreamy afternoon, she was driven to confess +that her boys were now men, doing men's work in the world, and to +wonder, with womanly shrinkings of heart, what the future might hold out +to them of good and evil.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> + +<h3>OLIVE'S WORK</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Read from some humbler poet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose songs gushed from his heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As showers from the clouds of summer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or tears from the eyelids start;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Who through long days of labour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And nights devoid of ease,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still heard in his soul the music<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of wonderful melodies.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Such songs have power to quiet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The restless pulse of care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And come like the benediction<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That follows after prayer.'—<span class="smcap">Longfellow.</span><br /></span> +</div></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>'Aunt Milly, the book has come!'</p> + +<p>Chriss's impetuous young voice roused Mildred from her reverie. Chriss's +eager footsteps, her shrill tone, broke in upon the stillness, driving +the gossamer threads of fancy hither and thither by the very impetus of +youthful noise and movement. Mildred's folded hands dropped apart—she +turned soft bewildered looks on the girl.</p> + +<p>'What has come? I do not understand you,' she said, with a little laugh +at her own bewilderment.</p> + +<p>'Aunt Milly, what are you thinking about? are you asleep or dreaming?' +demanded Chriss, indignantly; 'why the book—Olive's book, to be sure.'</p> + +<p>'Has it come? My dear Chriss, how you startled me; if you had knocked, +it would have been different, but bursting in upon me like that.'</p> + +<p>'One can't knock for ever,' grumbled Chriss, in an aggrieved voice. 'Of +course I thought you were asleep this hot afternoon; but to see you +sitting smiling to yourself, Aunt Milly, in that aggravating way and not +understanding when one speaks.'</p> + +<p>'Hush! I understand you now,' returned Mildred, colouring; 'one gets +thinking sometimes, and——'</p> + +<p>'Your thoughts must have been miles off, then,' retorted Chriss, with an +inquisitive glance that seemed to embarrass Mildred, 'if it took you all +that time to travel to the surface. Polly told me to fetch you, because +tea is ready, and then the books came—such a big parcel!—and Olive's +hand shook so that she could not undo the knots, and so she cut the +string, and Cardie scolded her.'</p> + +<p>'It was not much of a scolding, I expect.'</p> + +<p>'Quite enough to bring Mr. Marsden to the rescue. "How can you presume +to reprimand a poetess," he said, quite seriously; you should have heard +Dr. John laugh. Look here, he has sent you these roses, Aunt Milly,' +drawing from under her little silk apron a delicious bouquet of roses +and maidenhair fern.</p> + +<p>A pretty pink colour came into Mildred's cheeks.</p> + +<p>'What beautiful roses! He must have remembered it was my birthday; how +kind of him, Chriss. I must come down and thank him.'</p> + +<p>'You must wear some in honour of the occasion—do, Aunt Milly; this deep +crimson one will look so pretty on your gray silk dress; and you must +put on the silver locket, with the blue velvet, that we all gave you.'</p> + +<p>'Nonsense,' returned Mildred, blushing; but Chriss was inexorable.</p> + +<p>Dr. Heriot looked up for the minute fairly startled when Mildred came in +with her pink cheeks and her roses. Chriss's artful fingers, bent on +mischief, had introduced a bud among the thick braids; the pretty brown +hair looked unusually soft and glossy; the rarely seen dimple was in +full play.</p> + +<p>'You have done honour to my roses, I see,' he said, as Mildred thanked +him, somewhat shyly, and joined the group round Olive.</p> + +<p>The drawing-room table was heaped over with the new-smelling, little +green volumes. As Mildred approached, Olive held out one limp soft copy +with a hand that shook perceptibly.</p> + +<p>'It has come at last, and on your birthday too; I am so glad,' she +whispered as Mildred kissed her.</p> + +<p>A soft light was in the girl's eyes, two spots of colour burnt in her +usually pale cheeks, her hand closed and unclosed nervously on the arm +of her chair.</p> + +<p>'There, even Marsden says they are beautiful, and he does not care much +for poetry,' broke in Richard, triumphantly. 'Livy, it has come to this, +that I am proud of my sister.'</p> + +<p>'Hush, please don't talk so, Cardie,' remonstrated Olive with a look of +distress.</p> + +<p>The spots of colour were almost hectic now, the smooth forehead furrowed +with anxiety; she looked ready to cry. This hour was full of sweet +torment to her. She shrank from this home criticism, so precious yet so +perilous: for the first time she felt afraid of the utterance of her own +written voice: if she only could leave them all and make her escape. She +looked up almost pleadingly at Hugh Marsden, whose broad shoulders were +blocking up the window, but he misunderstood her.</p> + +<p>'Yes, I think them beautiful; but your brother is right, and I am no +judge of poetry: metrical thoughts always appear so strange, so puzzling +to me—it seems to me like a prisoned bird, beating itself against the +bars of measurement and metres, as though it tried to be free.'</p> + +<p>'Why, you are talking poetry yourself,' returned Richard; 'that speech +was worthy of Livy herself.'</p> + +<p>Hugh burst into one of his great laughs; in her present mood it jarred +on Olive. Aunt Milly had left her, and was talking to her father. Dr. +John was at the other end of the room, busy over his copy. Why would +they talk about her so? it was cruel of Cardie, knowing her as he did. +She made a little gesture, almost of supplication, looking up into the +curate's broad, radiant face, but the young man again misunderstood her.</p> + +<p>'You must forgive me, I am sadly prosaic,' he returned, speaking now in +a lower key; 'these things are beyond me. I do not pretend to understand +them. That people should take the trouble to measure out their words and +thoughts—so many feet, so many lines, a missed adjective, or a halting +rhyme—it is that that puzzles me.'</p> + +<p>'Fie, man, what heresy; I am ashamed of you!' broke in Richard, +good-humouredly; 'you have forfeited Livy's good opinion for ever.'</p> + +<p>'I should be sorry to do that,' returned Hugh, seriously, 'but I cannot +help it if I am different from other people. When I was at college I +used to take my sisters to the opera, poor Caroline especially was fond +of it: do you know it gave me the oddest feeling. There was something +almost ludicrous to me in hearing the heroine of the piece trilling out +her woes with endless roulades; in real life people don't sing on their +deathbeds.'</p> + +<p>'Listen to him,' returned Richard, taking him by the shoulders; 'what is +one to do with such a literal, matter-of-fact fellow? You ought to talk +to him, Livy, and bring him to a better frame of mind.'</p> + +<p>But Hugh was not to be silenced; he stood up manfully, with his great +square shoulders blocking up the light, beaming down on Olive's +shrinking gravity like a gentle-hearted giant; he was one to make +himself heard, this big, clumsy young man. In spite of his boyish face +and loud voice, people were beginning to speak well of Hugh Marsden; his +youthful vigour and energy were waking up northern lethargy and fighting +northern prejudice. Was not the surpliced choir owing mainly to his +persevering efforts? and were not the ranks of the Dissenters already +thinned by that loud-voiced but persuasive eloquence of his?</p> + +<p>Olive absolutely cowered under it to-night. Hugh had no idea how his +noisy vehemence was jarring on that desire for quiet, and a nice talk +with Aunt Mildred, for which she was secretly longing; and yet she and +Hugh were good friends.</p> + +<p>'One can't help one's nature,' persisted Hugh, fumbling over the pages +of one of the little green books with his big hands as he spoke. 'In the +days of the primitive Church they had the gift of unknown tongues. I am +sure much of our modern poetry needs interpretation.'</p> + +<p>'Worse and worse. He will vote your "Songs of the Hearth" a mass of +unintelligible rubbish directly.'</p> + +<p>'You are too bad,' returned the young man with an honest blush; 'you +will incense your sister against me. What I really mean is,' sitting +down beside Olive and speaking so that Richard should not hear him, +'that poetry always seems to me more ornament than use. You cannot +really have felt and experienced all you have described in that +poem—"Coming Back," for example.'</p> + +<p>'Hush, don't show it me,' returned Olive, hurriedly. 'I don't mind your +saying this, but you do not know—the feeling comes, and then the words; +these are thoughts too grand and deep for common forms of expression; +they seem to flow of themselves into the measure you criticise. Oh! you +do not understand——'</p> + +<p>'No, but you can teach me to do so,' returned Hugh, quite gravely. He +had laid aside his vehemence at the first sound of Olive's quiet voice; +he had never lost his first impression of her,—he still regarded her +with a sort of puzzled wonder and reverence. A poetess was not much in +his line he told himself,—the only poetry he cared for was the Psalms, +and perhaps Homer and Shakespeare. Yes, they were grand fellows, he +thought; they could never see their like again. True, the 'Voices of the +Hearth' were very beautiful, if he could only understand them.</p> + +<p>'One cannot teach these things,' replied Olive, with her soft, serious +smile.</p> + +<p>As she answered Hugh she felt almost sorry for him, that this beautiful +gift had come to her, and that he could not understand—that he who +revelled in the good things of this life should miss one of its sweetest +comforts.</p> + +<p>She wondered vaguely over the young clergyman's denseness all the +evening. Hugh had a stronger developed passion for music, and was +further endowed with a deep rich baritone voice. As Olive heard him +joining in the family glees, or beating time to Polly's nicely-executed +pieces, she marvelled all the more over this omitted harmony in his +nature. She had at last made her escape from the crowded, +brilliantly-lighted room, and was pacing the dark terrace, pondering +over it still when Mildred found her.</p> + +<p>'Are you tired of us, Olive?'</p> + +<p>'Not tired of you, Aunt Milly. I have scarcely spoken to you to-day, and +it is your birthday, too,' putting her arm affectionately round Mildred, +and half leaning against her. In her white dress Olive looked taller +than ever. Richard was right when he said Livy would make a fine woman; +she looked large and massive beside Mildred's slight figure. 'Dear Aunt +Milly, I have so wanted to talk to you all the evening, but they would +not let me.'</p> + +<p>Mildred smiled fondly at her girl; during the last three years, ever +since her illness, she had looked on Olive as a sacred and special +charge, and as care begets tenderness as surely as love does love, so +had Olive's ailing but noble nature gained a larger share of Mildred's +warm affections than even Polly's brightness or Chriss's saucy piquancy +could win.</p> + +<p>'Have you been very happy to-night, dear?' she asked, softly. 'Have you +been satisfied with Olive's ovation?'</p> + +<p>'Oh, Aunt Milly! it has made me too glad; did you hear what Cardie said? +it made me feel so proud and so ashamed. Do you know there were actually +tears in papa's eyes when he kissed me.'</p> + +<p>'We are all so proud of our girl, you see.'</p> + +<p>'They almost make me cry between them. I wanted to get away and hide +myself, only Mr. Marsden would go on talking to me.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, I heard him; he was very amusing; he is full of queer hobbies.'</p> + +<p>'I cannot help being sorry for him, he must lose so much, you know; +poetry is a sort of sixth sense to me.'</p> + +<p>'Darling, you must use your sweet gift well.'</p> + +<p>'That is what I have been thinking,' laying her burning face against her +aunt's shoulders, as they both stood looking down at a glimmer of +shining water below them. 'Aunt Milly, do you remember what you said to +comfort me when I was so wickedly lamenting that I had not died?'</p> + +<p>Mildred shook her head.</p> + +<p>'I only know I lectured you soundly.'</p> + +<p>'Oh! Aunt Milly, and they were such dear, wise words that you spoke, +too; you told me that perhaps God had some beautiful work for me to do +that my death would leave unfinished. Do you think' (speaking softly and +slowly) 'that I have found my work?'</p> + +<p>'Dear, I cannot doubt it; no one who reads those lovely verses of yours +can dispute the reality of your gift. You have genius, Olive; why should +I seek to hide it?'</p> + +<p>'Thank you, Aunt Milly. Your telling me will not make me proud; you need +not be afraid of that, dear. I am only so very, very grateful that I +have found my voice.'</p> + +<p>'Your voice, Olive!'</p> + +<p>'Ah, I have made you smile; but can you fancy what a dumb person would +feel if his tongue were suddenly loosed from its paralysis of silence, +what a flow and a torrent of words there would be?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, the thought has often struck me when I have read the Gospels.'</p> + +<p>'Aunt Milly, I think I have something of the same feeling. I have always +wanted to find expression for my thoughts—an outlet for them; it is a +new tongue, but not an unknown one, as Mr. Marsden half hinted.'</p> + +<p>'Three years ago this same Olive who talks so sweetly to-night was full +of trouble at the thought of a new lease of life.'</p> + +<p>'It was all my want of faith; it was weak, cowardly. I know it well +after all,' in a low voice; 'to-night was worth living for. I am not +sorry now, Aunt Milly.'</p> + +<p>'What are you two talking about? I am come to pay my tribute to the +heroines of the night, and find them star-gazing,' broke in a familiar +voice.</p> + +<p>A tall figure in shining raiment bore down upon them—a confused vision +of soft white draperies and gleaming jewels under a cashmere cloak.</p> + +<p>'Ethel, is it you?' exclaimed Mildred, in an astonished voice.</p> + +<p>'Yes, it is I, dear Mildred,' replied the crisp tones, while two soft +arms came out from the cloak and enveloped her. 'I suppose I ought to be +on the road to Appleby Castle, but I determined to snatch half an hour +to myself first, to offer my congratulations to you and this dear girl' +(kissing Olive). 'You are only a secondary light to-night, Mildred.'</p> + +<p>'What! have you seen it?'</p> + +<p>'Yes; my copy came last night. I sat up half the night reading it. You +have achieved a success, Olive, that no one else has; you have +absolutely drawn tears from my eyes.'</p> + +<p>'I thought you never cried over books, Ethel,' in a mischievous tone +from Mildred.</p> + +<p>'I am usually most strong-hearted, but the "Voices of the Hearth" would +have melted a flint. Olive, I never thought it would come to this, that +I should be driven to confess that I envied you.'</p> + +<p>'Oh no, Ethel, not that, surely!'</p> + +<p>'Ah, but I do! that this magnificent power should be given you to wield +over all our hearts, that you should sing to us so sweetly, that we +should be constrained to listen, that this girlish head should speak to +us so wisely and so well,' touching Olive's thick coils with fingers +that glittered in the moonlight.</p> + +<p>'You must not praise her, or she will make her escape,' laughed Mildred, +with a glance at Olive's averted face; 'we have overwhelmed her already +with the bitter-sweet of home criticism, and by and by she will have to +run the gauntlet of severer, and it may be adverse, reviews.'</p> + +<p>'Then she will learn to prize our appreciation. Olive, I am humiliated +when I think how utterly I have misunderstood you.'</p> + +<p>'Why?' asked Olive, shyly, raising those fathomless dark eyes of hers to +Ethel's agitated face.</p> + +<p>'I have always looked upon you as a gloomy visionary who held impossible +standards of right and wrong, and who vexed herself and others by +troublesome scruples; but I see now that Mildred was right.'</p> + +<p>'Aunt Mildred always believes the best of every one,' interrupted Olive, +softly.</p> + +<p>She was flattered and yet pleased by Ethel's evident agitation—why +would they all think so much of her? What had she done? The feelings had +always been there—the great aching of unexpressed thoughts; and now a +voice had been given her with which to speak them. It was all so simple +to Olive, so sacred, so beautiful. Why would they spoil it with all this +talk?</p> + +<p>'Well, perhaps I had better not finish my sentence,' went on Ethel, with +a sigh; after all, it was a pity to mar that unconscious +simplicity—Olive would never see herself as others saw her; no fatal +egotism wrapped her round. She turned to Mildred with a little movement +of fondness as she dropped Olive's hand, and they all turned back into +the house.</p> + +<p>'If I have nothing else, I have you,' she whispered, with a thrill of +mingled envy and grief that went to Mildred's heart.</p> + +<p>The music and the conversation stopped as the door opened on the +dazzling apparition in the full light. Ethel looked pale, and there was +a heavy look round her eyes as though of unshed tears; her manner, too, +was subdued.</p> + +<p>People said that Ethel Trelawny had changed greatly during the last few +years; the old extravagance and daring that had won such adverse +criticism had wholly gone. Ethel no longer scandalised and repelled +people; her vivacity was tempered with reserve now. A heavy cloud of +oppression, almost of melancholy, had quenched the dreamy egotism that +had led her to a one-sided view of things; still quaint and original, +she was beginning to learn the elastic measurement of a charity that +should embrace a fairer proportion of her fellow-creatures.</p> + +<p>But the lesson was a hard one to her fastidiousness. It could not be +said even now that Ethel Trelawny had found her work in life, but +notwithstanding she worked hard. Under Mildred's loving tuition she no +longer looked upon her poorer neighbours with aversion or disgust, but +set herself in many ways to aid them and ameliorate their condition. +True the task was uncongenial and the labour hard, and the reward by no +means adequate, but at least she need no longer brand her self with +being a dreamer of dreams, or sigh that no human being had reason to +bless her existence.</p> + +<p>A great yearning took possession of her as she stood in her gleaming +silks, looking round that happy domestic circle. Mr. Lambert had not as +yet stolen back to his beloved study, but sat in the bay-window, +discussing parish affairs with Dr. Heriot. Richard had challenged the +curate to a game of chess, and Chriss had perched herself on the arm of +her brother's chair, and was watching the game. Polly, in her white +dress, was striking plaintive chords with one hand and humming to +herself in a sweet, girlish voice.</p> + +<p>'Check-mate; you played that last move carelessly, Marsden. Your knight +turned traitor!' cried Richard. His handsome profile cut sharply against +the lamplight, he looked cool, on the alert, while Hugh's broad face was +puckered and wrinkled with anxiety.</p> + +<p>'Please do not let me interrupt you!' exclaimed Ethel, hurriedly, 'you +look all so comfortable. I only want to say good-night, every one,' with +a wave of her slim hand as she spoke.</p> + +<p>Richard gave a start, and rose to his feet, as he regarded the queenly +young creature with her pale cheeks and radiant dress. A sort of perfumy +fragrance seemed to pervade him as she brushed lightly past him; +something subtle seemed to steal away his faculties. Had he ever seen +her look so beautiful?</p> + +<p>Ethel stopped and gave him one of her sad, kind smiles.</p> + +<p>'You do not often come to see us now, Richard. I think my father misses +you,' was all she said.</p> + +<p>'I will come—yes—I will come to-morrow,' he stammered. 'I did not +think—you would miss me,' he almost added, but he remembered himself in +time.</p> + +<p>His face grew stern and set as he watched her in the lamplight, gliding +from one to another with a soft word or two. Why was it her appearance +oppressed him to-night? he thought. He had often seen her dressed so +before, and had gloried in her loveliness; to-night it seemed +incongruous, it chilled him—this glittering apparition in the midst of +the family circle.</p> + +<p>She looked more like the probable bride of Sir Robert Ferrers than the +wife of a poor curate, he told himself bitterly, as he watched her slow +lissom movements, the wavy undulating grace that was Ethel's chief +charm, and yet as he thought it he knew he wronged her. For the man she +could love, Ethel would pull off all her glistening gewgaws, put away +from her all the accessories that wealth could give her. Delighting in +luxury, revelling in it, it was in her to renounce it all without a +sigh.</p> + +<p>Richard knew this, and paid her nobleness its just tribute even while he +chafed in his own moodiness. She would do all this, and more than this, +for the man she loved; but could she, would she, ever be brought to do +it for him?</p> + +<p>When alone again with Mildred, Ethel threw her arms round her friend.</p> + +<p>'Oh, Mildred! it seems worse than ever.'</p> + +<p>'My poor dear.'</p> + +<p>'Night after night he sits opposite to me, and we do not speak, except +to exchange commonplaces, and then he carps at every deviation of +opinion.'</p> + +<p>'I know how dreadful it must be.'</p> + +<p>'And then to be brought into the midst of a scene like that,' pointing +to the door they had just closed; 'to see those happy faces and to hear +all that innocent mirth,' as at that moment Polly's girlish laughter was +distinctly audible, with Hugh's pealing 'Ha, ha' following it; 'and then +to remember the room I have just left.'</p> + +<p>'Hush, try to forget it, or the Sigourneys will wonder at your pale +face.'</p> + +<p>'These evenings haunt me,' returned Ethel, with a sort of shudder. 'I +think I am losing my nerve, Mildred; but I feel positively as though I +cannot bear many more of them—the great dimly-lighted room; you know my +weakness for light; but he says it makes his head bad, and those lamps +with the great shades are all he will have; the interminable dinner +which Duncan always seems to prolong, the difficulty of finding a +subject on which we shall not disagree, and the dread of falling into +one of those dreadful pauses which nothing seems to break. Oh, Mildred, +may you never experience it.'</p> + +<p>'Poor Ethel, I can understand it all so well.'</p> + +<p>Ethel dried her eyes.</p> + +<p>'It seems wrong to complain of one's father, but I have not deserved +this loss of confidence; he is trying my dutifulness too much.'</p> + +<p>'It will not fail you. "Let patience have her perfect work," Ethel.'</p> + +<p>'No, you must only comfort me to-night; I am beyond even your wise +maxims, Mildred. I wish I had not come, it makes me feel so sore, and +yet I could not resist the longing to see you on your birthday. See, I +have brought you a gift,' showing her a beautifully-chased cross in her +hand.</p> + +<p>'Dear Ethel, how wrong; I have asked you so often not to overwhelm me +with your presents.'</p> + +<p>'How selfish to deny me my one pleasure. I have thought about this all +day. We have had visitors, a whole bevy from Carlisle, and I could not +get away; and now I must go to that odious party at the Castle.'</p> + +<p>'You must indeed not wait any longer, your friends will be wondering,' +remonstrated Mildred.</p> + +<p>'Oh no, Mrs. Sigourney is always late. You are very unsociable to-night, +Mildred, just when I require so much.'</p> + +<p>'I only wish I knew how to comfort you.'</p> + +<p>'It comforts me to look into your face and hold your hand. Listen, +Mildred—to-night I was so hungry and desolate for want of a kind word +or look, that I grew desperate; it was foolish of me, but I could have +begged for it as a hungry dog will beg for a crumb.'</p> + +<p>'What did you say?' asked Mildred, breathlessly.</p> + +<p>'I went and stood by his chair when I ought to have left the room; that +was a mistake, was it not?' with a low, bitter laugh. 'I think I touched +his sleeve, for he drew it away with a look of surprise. "Papa," I said; +"I cannot bear this any longer. I do not feel as though I were your +child when you never look at me voluntarily."'</p> + +<p>'And what was his answer?'</p> + +<p>'"Ethel, you know I hate scenes, they simply disgust me."'</p> + +<p>'Only that!'</p> + +<p>'No. I was turning away when he called me back in his sternest manner.'</p> + +<p>'"Your reproach is unseemly under the circumstances, but it shall be +answered," he said, and his voice was so hard and cold. "It is my +misfortune that you are my child, for you have never done anything but +disappoint me. Now, do not interrupt me," as I made some faint +exclamation. "I have not withheld my confidence; you know my ambition, +and also that I have lately sustained some very heavy losses; in default +of a son I have looked to you to retrieve our fortunes, but"—in such a +voice of withering scorn—"I have looked in vain."'</p> + +<p>'Bitter words, my poor Ethel; my heart aches for you. What could such a +speech mean? Can it be true that he is really embarrassed?'</p> + +<p>'Only temporarily; you know he dabbles in speculations, and he lost a +good deal by those mining shares last year; that was the reason why we +missed our usual London season. No, it is not that. You see he has never +relinquished the secret ambition of a seat in Parliament. I know him so +well; nothing can turn him from anything on which he has set his heart, +and either of those men would have helped him to compass his end.'</p> + +<p>'He has no right to sacrifice you to his ambition.'</p> + +<p>'You need not fear, I am no Iphigenia. I could not marry Sir Robert, and +I would not marry Mr. Cathcart. Thank Heaven, I have self-respect enough +to guard me from such humiliation. The worst is,' she hesitated, 'papa +is so quick that he found out how his intellect fascinated me; it was +the mere fascination of the moment, and died a natural death; but he +will have it I was not indifferent to him, and it is this that makes him +so mad. He says it is obstinacy, and nothing else.'</p> + +<p>'Mr. Cathcart has not renewed his offer? forgive me,' as Ethel drew +herself up, and looked somewhat offended. 'You know I dread that man—so +sceptical—full of sophistry. Oh, my dear! I cannot help fearing him.'</p> + +<p>'You need not,' with a sad smile; 'my heart is still in my own keeping. +No,' as Mildred's glance questioned her archly, 'I have been guilty of +nothing but a little hero-worship, but nevertheless,' she averred, +'intellect and goodness must go hand-in-hand before I can call any man +my master.'</p> + +<p>'I shall not despair of you finding them together; but come, I will not +let you stay any longer, or your pale cheeks will excite comment. Let me +wrap this cloak round you—come.'</p> + +<p>But Ethel still lingered.</p> + +<p>'Don't let Richard know all this; he takes my unhappiness too much to +heart already; only ask him to come sometimes and break the monotony.'</p> + +<p>'He will come.'</p> + +<p>'Things always seem better when he is with us; he makes papa talk, and +much of the restraint seems removed. Well, good-night; this is sad +birthday-talk, but I could not keep the pain in.'</p> + +<p>As Mildred softly closed the door she saw Richard beside her.</p> + +<p>'What have you been talking about all this time?' he asked, anxiously.</p> + +<p>'Only on the old sore subject. She is very unhappy, Richard; she wants +you to go oftener. You do her father good.'</p> + +<p>'But she looked pale to-night. She is not in fresh trouble, is she, Aunt +Milly?'</p> + +<p>'No, only the misunderstanding gets more every day; we must all do what +we can to lighten her load.'</p> + +<p>Richard made no answer, he seemed thinking deeply; even after Mildred +left him he remained in the same place.</p> + +<p>'One of these days she must know it, and why not now?' he said to +himself, and there was a strange concentrated light in his eyes as he +said it.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h2> + +<h3>THE HEART OF CŒUR-DE-LION</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'At length, as suddenly become aware<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of this long pause, she lifted up her face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he withdrew his eyes—she looked so fair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And cold, he thought, in her unconscious grace.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! little dreams she of the restless care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He thought, that makes my heart to throb apace:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though we this morning part, the knowledge sends<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No thrill to her calm pulse—we are but Friends!'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jean Ingelow.</span><br /></span> +</div></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>Mildred pondered long and sorrowfully that night over her friend's +trouble.</p> + +<p>She knew it was no fancied or exaggerated recital of wrongs. The inmates +of the vicarage had commented openly on the Squire's changed looks and +bearing. His cordiality had always savoured more or less of +condescension, but latterly he had held himself aloof from his +neighbours, and there had been a gloomy reserve in his manner that had +made him well-nigh unapproachable.</p> + +<p>Irritable and ready to take offence, and quick to resent even a +difference of opinion, he was already on bad terms with more than one of +his neighbours. Dr. Heriot's well-deserved popularity, and his plainness +of speech, had already given umbrage to his jealous and haughty +temperament. It was noticed on all sides that the Doctor was a less +frequent visitor at Kirkleatham House, and that Mr. Trelawny was much +given to carp at any expressed opinion that emanated from that source.</p> + +<p>This was incomprehensible, to say the least of it, as he had always been +on excellent terms with both father and daughter; but little did any one +guess the real reason of so inexplicable a change.</p> + +<p>Ethel was right when she acknowledged that ambition was her father's +besetting sin; the petty interests of squirearchal life had never +satiated his dominant passion and thirst for power. Side by side with +his ambition, and narrow aims there was a vacuum that he would fain have +filled with work of a broader type, and with a pertinacity that would +have been noble but for its subtle egotism, he desired to sit among the +senators of his people.</p> + +<p>Twice had he essayed and twice been beaten, and it had been whispered +that his hands were not quite clean, with the cleanness of a man to whom +corruption is a hideous snare; and still, with a dogged resolution that +ought to have served him, he determined that one day, and at all costs, +his desire should be accomplished.</p> + +<p>Already there were hints of a coming election, and whispered reports of +a snug borough that would not be too severely contested; but Mr. +Trelawny had another aim. The Conservative member for the next borough +had given offence to his constituents by bringing in a Bill for the +reformation of some dearly-loved abuse. The inhabitants were up in arms; +there had been much speechifying and a procession, during which sundry +well-meaning flatterers had already whispered that the right man in the +right place would be a certain lord of beeves and country squire, to +whom the township and people were as dear as though he had first drawn +breath in their midst.</p> + +<p>Parliament would shortly be dissolved, it was urged, and Mr. Trelawny's +chances would be great; already his friends were canvassing on his +behalf, and among them Mr. Cathcart, of Broadlands.</p> + +<p>The Cathcarts were bankers and the most influential people, and +commanded a great number of votes, and it was Edgar Cathcart who had +used such strong language against the aforesaid member for meddling with +an abuse which had been suffered for at least two hundred years, and was +respectable for its very antiquity.</p> + +<p>Ethel's refusal of Edgar Cathcart had inflicted a deadly blow to her +father's interests, and one that he was never likely to forgive, all the +more that he was shrewd enough to suspect that she had not been +altogether indifferent to his fascination of manner.</p> + +<p>Now above all things he had coveted this man for his son-in-law. +Broadlands and its hereditary thousands would have been no mean match +for the daughter of a country squire. With Edgar Cathcart to back him he +could have snapped his fingers at the few loyal voters who would have +still rallied round their erring townsman, and from a hint that had been +lately dropped, he knew the banker was ready at any moment to renew his +offer; but Ethel had persisted in her refusal, and bitterly and loudly +did her father curse the folly of a girl who could renounce such a +position for a mere whim or fancy.</p> + +<p>'If you do not love him, whom do you love?' he had said to her, and, +courageous as she was, she had quailed before the sneer that had +accompanied his words.</p> + +<p>But she never guessed the thought that rose in his mind as he said them. +'She has some infatuation that makes her proof against other men's +addresses,' he argued angrily with himself. 'No girl in her senses could +be blind to the attraction of a man like Edgar Cathcart unless she has +already given away her heart. I am not satisfied about this fellow +Heriot. He comes here far too often, and she encourages him. I always +thought he meant to marry Lambert's prim sister; but he is so deep there +is no reading him. I shall have to pick a quarrel to get rid of him, for +if he once gets an influence over Ethel, all Cathcart's chances are +gone.'</p> + +<p>Like many other narrow-minded men, Mr. Trelawny brooded over an idea +until it became fixed and ineradicable. Ethel's warm reception of Dr. +Heriot, and her evident pleasure in his society, were construed as so +many evidences of his own sagacity and her guilt. His only child and +heiress, for whom he had planned so splendid a future, intended to throw +herself away on a common country practitioner; she meant to disgrace +herself and him.</p> + +<p>The wound rankled and became envenomed, steeping his whole soul in +bitterness and discontent. He was a disappointed man, he told +himself—disappointed in his ambition and in his domestic affections. He +had loved his wife, as such men love, next to himself; he had had a +certain pride in the possession of her, and though he had ever ruled her +with a rod of iron, he had mingled much fondness with his rule. But she +had left him, and the sons, who had been to him as the twin apples of +his eyes, had gone likewise. He had groaned and humbled himself beneath +that terrible stroke, and had for a little time walked softly as one who +has been smitten justly; and the pathos of his self-pity had been such +that others had been constrained to feel for him, though they marvelled +that his daughter, with the mother's eyes, had so little power to +comfort him.</p> + +<p>There were times when he wondered also, when his veiled coldness showed +rents in it, and he owned to a certain pride in her that was not devoid +of tenderness.</p> + +<p>For it was only of late that he had fallen into such carping ways, and +that the real breach was apparent. It was true Ethel had her mother's +eyes, but she lacked her mother's submissive gentleness; never a meek +woman, she had yet to learn the softness that disarms wrath. Her +open-eyed youth found flaws in everything that was not intrinsically +excellent. She canvassed men and manners with the warm injudiciousness +of undeveloped wisdom; acts were nothing, motives everything, and no +cleanness available that had a stain on its whiteness.</p> + +<p>In place of the plastic girlhood he expected, Mr. Trelawny found himself +confronted by this daring and youthful Argus. He soon discovered Ethel's +inner sympathies were in open revolt against his. It galled him, even in +his pride, to see those clear, candid eyes measuring, half unconsciously +and half incredulously, the narrow limits of his nature. Whatever he +might seem to others, he knew his own child had weighed him in the +balance of her harsh-judging youth, and found him wanting.</p> + +<p>It was not that her manner lacked dutifulness, or that she ever failed +in the outward acts of a daughter; below the surface of their mutual +reserve there was, at least on Ethel's part, a deep craving for a better +understanding; but even if he were secretly fond of her, there was no +denying that Mr. Trelawny was uneasy in her presence; conscience often +spoke to him in her indignant young voice; under those shining blue eyes +ambition seemed paltry, and the stratagems and manœuvres of party +spirit little better than mere truckling and the low cunning of deceit.</p> + +<p>It would not be too much to say that he almost feared her; that there +were times when this sense of uncongeniality was so oppressive that he +would gladly have got rid of her, when he would rather have been left +alone than endure the silent rebuke of her presence. Of late his anger +had been very great against her; the scorn with which she had defended +herself against his tenacious will had rankled deeply in his mind, and +as yet there was no question of forgiveness.</p> + +<p>If he could not bend her to his purpose he would at least treat her as +one treats a contumacious child. She had spoken words—rash, +unadvisable, but honest words—which even his little soul had felt +deeply. No, he would not forgive her; there should be no confidence, no +loving intercourse between them, till she had given up this foolish +fancy of hers, or at least had brought herself to promise that she would +give it up; and yet, strange to say, though Dr. Heriot had become a +thorn in his side, though the dread of him drove all comfort from his +pillow, he yet lacked courage openly to accuse her; some latent sense of +honour within him checked him from so insulting his motherless child.</p> + +<p>It so happened that on the evening after Mildred's birthday, Dr. Heriot +called up at Kirkleatham House to speak to Mr. Trelawny on some matter +of business.</p> + +<p>Richard was dining there, and Ethel's careworn face had relaxed into +smiles at the sight of her favourite; the gloomy room seemed brightened +somehow, dinner was less long and oppressive, no awful pauses of silence +fell between the father and daughter to be bridged over tremblingly. +Richard's cheerful voice and ready flow of talk—a little forced, +perhaps—went on smoothly and evenly; enthusiasm was not possible under +the chilling restraint of Mr. Trelawny's measured sentences, but at +least Ethel saw the effort and was grateful for it.</p> + +<p>Richard was holding forth fluently on a three days' visit to London that +he had lately paid, when a muttered exclamation from Mr. Trelawny +interrupted him, and a moment afterwards the door-bell rang.</p> + +<p>A shade of angry annoyance passed over the Squire's handsome, face—his +thin lips closed ominously.</p> + +<p>'What does he want at this time of night?' he demanded, darting a +suspicious glance at Ethel, whose quick ears had recognised the +footsteps; her bright flush of pleasure faded away at that wrathful +look; she heaved a little petulant sigh as her father left the room, +closing the door sharply after him.</p> + +<p>'It is like everything else,' she murmured. 'It used to be so pleasant +his dropping in of an evening, but everything seems spoiled somehow.'</p> + +<p>'I do not understand. I thought Dr. Heriot was so intimate here,' +returned Richard, astonished and shocked at this new aspect of things. +Mr. Trelawny's look of angry annoyance had not been lost on him—what +had come to him? would he quarrel with them all? 'I do not understand; I +have been away so long, you know,' and unconsciously his voice took its +softest tone.</p> + +<p>'There is nothing to understand,' replied Ethel, wearily; 'only papa and +he are not such good friends now; they have disagreed in +politics—gentlemen will, you know—and lately Dr. Heriot has vexed him +by insisting on some sanitary reforms in some of the cottages. Papa +hates any interference with his tenants, and it is not easy to silence +Dr. Heriot when he thinks it is his duty to speak.'</p> + +<p>'And sanitary reform is Dr. John's special hobby. Yes, I see; it is a +grievous pity,' assented Richard, and then he resumed the old topic. It +was not that he was unsympathising, but he could not forget the +happiness of being alone with Ethel; the opportunity had come for which +he had longed all last night. As he talked on calmly and rapidly his +temples beat and ached with excitement. Once or twice he stole a furtive +glance as she sat somewhat absently beside him. Could he venture it? +would not his lips close if he essayed a subject at once so sweet and +perilous? As he talked he noted every trick, every gesture; the quaint +fashion of her dress, made of some soft, clinging material; it had a +Huguenot sleeve, he remembered—for she had told him it was designed +from a French picture—and was trimmed with old Venetian point; an +oddly-shaped mosaic ring gleamed on one of her long taper fingers and +was her only ornament. He had never seen her look so picturesque and yet +so sweet as she did that night, but as he looked the last particle of +courage seemed to desert him. Ethel listened only absently as he talked; +she was straining her ears to catch some sound from the adjoining room. +For once Richard's talk wearied her. How loudly the birds were chirping +their good-night—would he come in and wish her good-bye as he used to +do, and then linger for an hour or so over his cup of coffee? Hark! that +was his voice. Was he going? And, oh! surely that was not her father's +answering him.</p> + +<p>'Hush! oh, please hush!' she exclaimed, holding out a hand as though to +silence him, and moving towards the door. 'Oh, Richard, what shall we +do? I knew it would come to this.'</p> + +<p>'Come to what? Is there anything the matter? Please do not look so pale +over it.' What had she heard—what new vexation was this? But as he +stood beside her, even he caught the low, vehement tones of some angry +discussion. There was no denying Ethel's paleness; she almost wrung her +hands.</p> + +<p>'Of course; did I not tell you? Oh, you do not know papa! When he is +angry like this, he will say things that no one can bear. Dr. Heriot +will never come here again—never! He is quarrelling with all his +friends. By and by he will with you, and then you will learn to hate +us.'</p> + +<p>'No, no—you must not say that,' replied Richard, soothingly. With her +distress all his courage had returned. He even ventured to touch her +hand, but she drew it quickly away. She was not thinking of Richard now, +but of a certain kind friend whose wise counsels she had learnt to +value.</p> + +<p>At least he should not go without bidding her good-bye. Ethel never +thought of prudence in these moments of hot indignation. To Richard's +dismay she caught her hand away from him and flung open the door.</p> + +<p>'Why is Dr. Heriot going, papa?' she asked, walking up to them with a +certain majesty of gait which she could assume at times. As she asked +the question she flashed one of her keen, open-eyed looks on her father. +The Squire's olive complexion had turned sallow with suppressed wrath, +the veins on his forehead were swollen like whipcord; as he answered +her, the harshness of his voice grated roughly on her ear.</p> + +<p>'You are not wanted, Ethel; go back to young Lambert. I cannot allow +girls to interfere in my private business.'</p> + +<p>'You have quarrelled with Dr. Heriot, papa,' returned Ethel, in her +ringing tones, and keeping her ground unflinchingly, in spite of +Richard's whispered remonstrance.</p> + +<p>'Come away—you will only make it worse,' he whispered; but she had +turned her face impatiently from him.</p> + +<p>'Papa, it is not right—it is not fair. Dr. Heriot has done nothing to +deserve such treatment; and you are sending him away in anger.'</p> + +<p>'Ethel, how dare you!' returned the Squire. 'Go back into that room +instantly. If you have no self-respect, and cannot control your feeling, +it is my duty to protect you.'</p> + +<p>'Will you protect me by quarrelling with all my friends?' returned +Ethel, in her indignant young voice; her delicate nostrils quivered, the +curve of her long neck was superb. 'Dr. Heriot has only told you the +truth, as he always does.'</p> + +<p>'Indeed, you must not judge your father—after all, he has a right to +choose his own friends in his own house—you are very good, Miss +Trelawny, to try and defend me, but it is your father's quarrel, not +yours.'</p> + +<p>'If you hold intercourse with my daughter after this, you are no man of +honour——' began the Squire with rage, but Dr. Heriot quietly +interrupted him.</p> + +<p>'As far as I can I will respect your strange caprice, Mr. Trelawny; but +I hope you do not mean to forbid my addressing a word to an old friend +when we meet on neutral ground;' and the gentle dignity of his manner +held Mr. Trelawny's wrath in abeyance, until Ethel's imprudence kindled +it afresh.</p> + +<p>'It is not fair—I protest against such injustice!' she exclaimed; but +Dr. Heriot silenced her.</p> + +<p>'Hush, it is not your affair, Miss Trelawny; you are so generous, but, +indeed, your father and I are better apart for a little. When he +retracts what he has said, he will not find me unforgiving. Now, +good-bye.' The brief sternness vanished from his manner, and he held out +his hand to her with his old kind smile, his eyes were full of benignant +pity as he looked at her pale young face; it was so like her generosity +to defend her friends, he thought.</p> + +<p>Richard followed him down the long carriage road, and they stood for a +while outside the lodge gates. If Dr. Heriot held the clue to this +strange quarrel, he kept his own counsel.</p> + +<p>'He is a narrow-minded man with warped views and strong passions; he may +cool down, and find out his mistake one day,' was all he said to +Richard. 'I only pity his daughter for being his daughter.'</p> + +<p>He might well pity her. Richard little thought, as he hurried after his +friend, what an angry hurricane the imprudent girl had brought on +herself; with all her courage, the Squire made her quail and tremble +under his angry sneers.</p> + +<p>'Papa! papa!' was all she could say, when the last bitter arrow was +launched at her. 'Papa, say you do not mean it—that he cannot think +that.'</p> + +<p>'What else can a man think when a girl is fool enough to stand up for +him? For once—yes, for once—I was ashamed of my daughter!'</p> + +<p>'Ashamed of me?'—drawing herself up, but beginning to tremble from head +to foot—that she, Ethel Trelawny, should be subjected to this insult!</p> + +<p>'Yes, ashamed of you! that my daughter should be absolutely courting the +notice of a beggarly surgeon—that——'</p> + +<p>'Papa, I forbid you to say another word,'—in a voice that thrilled +him—it was so like her mother's, when she had once—yes, only +once—risen against the oppression of his injustice—'you have gone too +far; I repel your insinuation with scorn. Dr. Heriot does not think this +of me.'</p> + +<p>'What else can he think?' but he blenched a little under those clear +innocent eyes.</p> + +<p>'He will think I am sorry to lose so good a friend,' she returned, and +her breast heaved a little; 'he will think that Ethel Trelawny hates +injustice even in her own father; he will think what is only true and +kind,' her voice dropping into sadness; and with that she walked +silently from the room.</p> + +<p>She was hard hit, but she would not show it; her step was as proud as +ever till she had left her father's presence, and then it faltered and +slackened, and a great shock of pain came over her face.</p> + +<p>She had denied the insinuation with scorn, but what if he really thought +it? What if her imprudent generosity, always too prone to buckle on +harness for another, were to be construed wrongly—what if in his eyes +she should already have humiliated herself?</p> + +<p>With what sternness he had rebuked her judgment of her father; with him, +want of dutifulness and reverence were heinous sins that nothing could +excuse; she remembered how he had ever praised meekness in women, and +how, when she had laughingly denied all claim to that virtue, he had +answered her half sadly, 'No, you are not meek, and never will be, until +trouble has broken your spirit: you are too aggressive by nature to wear +patiently the "ornament of a meek and quiet spirit;"' and she remembered +how that half-jesting, half-serious speech had troubled her.</p> + +<p>Ethel's feeling for Dr. Heriot had been the purest hero-worship; she had +been proud of his friendship, and the loss of it under any circumstances +would have troubled her sadly; she had never blinded herself to the fact +that more than this would be impossible.</p> + +<p>Already her keen eyes had lighted on his probable choice, some one who +should bring meekness in lieu of beauty, and fill his home with the +sunshiny sweetness of her smile. 'She will be a happy woman, whoever she +is,' thought Ethel, with a sigh, not perfectly free from envy; there +were so few men who were good as well as wise, 'and this was one,' she +said to herself, and a flood of sadness came over her as she remembered +that speech about her lack of meekness.</p> + +<p>If he could only think well of her—if she had not lost caste in his +eyes, she thought, it might still be well with her, and in a half-sad, +half-jesting way she had pictured her life as Ethel Trelawny always, +'walking in maiden meditation fancy free,' a little solitary, perhaps, a +trifle dull, but wiser and better when the troublesome garb of youth was +laid aside, and she could—as in very honesty she longed to do now—call +all men her brothers. But the proud maidenly reserve was stabbed at all +points; true, or untrue, Ethel was writhing under those sneering words. +Richard found her, on his return, standing white and motionless by the +window; her eyes had a plaintive look in them as of a wild animal too +much hurt to defend itself; her pale cheeks alarmed him.</p> + +<p>'Why do you agitate yourself so? there is no cause! Dr. Heriot has just +told me it is a mere quarrel that may be healed any time.'</p> + +<p>'It is not that—it is those bitter cruel words,' she returned, in a +strange, far-away voice; 'that one's own father should say such things,' +and then her lip quivered, and two large tears welled slowly to her +eyes. Ah, there was the secret stab—her own father!</p> + +<p>'My dear Miss Trelawny—Ethel—I cannot bear to see you like this. You +are overwrought—all this has upset you. Come into the air and let us +talk a little.'</p> + +<p>'What is there to talk about?' she returned dreamily.</p> + +<p>He had called her Ethel for the first time since their old childish +days, and she had not noticed it. She offered no resistance as he +brought a soft fleecy shawl and wrapped it round her, and then gently +removed the white motionless fingers that were clutching the +window-frame; as they moved hand in hand over the grassy terrace, she +was quite unconscious of the firm, warm pressure; somewhere far away she +was thinking of a forlorn Ethel, whose father had spoken cruel words to +her. Richard was always good to her—always; there was nothing new in +that. Only once she turned and smiled at her favourite, with a smile so +sad and sweet that it almost broke his heart.</p> + +<p>'How kind you are; you always take such care of me, Richard.'</p> + +<p>'I wish I could—I wish I dare try,' he returned, in an odd, choked +voice. 'Let us go to your favourite seat, Ethel; the sun has not set +yet.'</p> + +<p>'It has set for me to-night,' she replied, mournfully.</p> + +<p>The creeping mists winding round the blue bases of the far-off hills +suited her better, she thought. She followed Richard mechanically into +the quaint kitchen garden; there was a broad terrace-walk, with a seat +placed so as to command the distant view; great bushes of cabbage-roses +and southernwood scented the air; gilly-flowers, and sweet-williams, and +old-fashioned stocks bloomed in the borders; below them the garden +sloped steeply to the crofts, and beyond lay the circling hills. In the +distance they could hear the faint pealing of the curfew bell, and the +bleating of the flocks in the crofts.</p> + +<p>Ethel drew a deep sigh; the sweet calmness of the scene seemed to soothe +her.</p> + +<p>'You were right to bring me here,' she said at last, gratefully.</p> + +<p>'I have brought you here—because I want to speak to you,' returned +Richard, with the same curious break in his voice.</p> + +<p>His temples were beating still, but he was calm, strangely calm, he +remembered afterwards. How did it happen? were the words his own or +another's? How did it come that she was shrinking away from him with +that startled look in her eyes, and that he was speaking in that low, +passionate voice? Was it this he meant when he called her Ethel?</p> + +<p>'No, no! say you do not mean it, Richard! Oh, Richard, Richard!' her +voice rising into a perfect cry of pain. What, must she lose him too?</p> + +<p>'Dear, how can I say it? I have always meant to tell you—always; it is +not my fault that I have loved you, Ethel; the love has grown up and +become a part of myself ever since we were children together!'</p> + +<p>'Does Mildred—does any one know?' she asked, and a vivid crimson +mantled in her pale cheeks as she asked the question.</p> + +<p>'Yes, my father knows—and Aunt Milly. I think they all guessed my +secret long ago—all but you,' in a tenderly reproachful voice; 'why +should they not know? I am not ashamed of it,' continued the young man, +a little loftily.</p> + +<p>Somehow they had changed characters. It was Ethel who was timid now.</p> + +<p>'But—but—they could not have approved,' she faltered at last.</p> + +<p>'Why should they not approve? My father loves you as a daughter—they +all do; they would take you into their hearts, and you would never be +lonely again. Oh, Ethel, is there no hope? Do you mean that you cannot +love me?'</p> + +<p>'I have always loved you; but we are too young, yes, that is it, we are +too young—too much of an age. If I marry, I must look up to my husband. +Indeed, indeed, we are too young, Richard!'</p> + +<p>'I am, you mean;' how calm he was growing; why his very voice was under +his control now. 'Listen to me, dear: I am only six months older than +you, but in a love like mine age does not count; it is no boyish lover +you are dismissing, Ethel; I am older in everything than you; I should +not be afraid to take care of you.'</p> + +<p>No, he was not afraid; as she looked up into that handsome resolute +face, and read there the earnestness of his words, Ethel's eyes dropped +before that clear, dominant glance as they had never done before. It was +she that was afraid now—afraid of this young lover, so grave, so +strong, so self-controlled; this was not her old favourite, this new, +quiet-spoken Richard. She would fain have kept them both, but it must +not be.</p> + +<p>'May I speak to your father?' he pleaded. 'At least you will be frank +with me; I have little to offer, I know—a hard-working curate's home, +and that not yet.'</p> + +<p>'Hush! I will not have this from you,' and for a moment Ethel's true +woman's soul gleamed in her eyes; 'if you were penniless it would make +no difference; I would give up anything, everything for the man I loved. +For shame, Richard, when you know I loathe the very name of riches.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, I know your great soul, Ethel; it is this that I love even more +than your beauty, and I must not tell you what I think of that; it is +not because I am poor and unambitious that you refuse me?'</p> + +<p>'No, no,' she returned hurriedly; 'you know it is not.'</p> + +<p>'And you do not love any one else?'</p> + +<p>'No, Richard,' still more faintly.</p> + +<p>'Then I will not despair,' and as he spoke there rushed upon him a +sudden conviction, from whence he knew not, that one day this girl whom +he was wooing so earnestly, and who was silencing him with such brief +sweet replies, should one day be his wife; that the beauty, and the +great soul, and the sad yearning heart should be his and no other's; +that one day—a long distant day, perhaps—he should win her for his +own.</p> + +<p>And with the conviction, as he told Mildred long afterwards, there came +a settled calm, and a wonderful strength that he never felt before; the +world, his own world, seemed flooded over with this great purpose and +love of his; and as he stood there before her, almost stooping over, and +yet not touching her, there came a vivid brightness into his eyes that +scared Ethel.</p> + +<p>'Of what are you thinking, Richard?' she said almost tremblingly.</p> + +<p>'Nay, I must not tell you.'</p> + +<p>Should he tell her? would she credit this strange prophecy of his? dimly +across his mind, as he stood there before her, there came the thought of +a certain shepherd, who waited seven years for the Rachel of his love.</p> + +<p>'No, I will not tell you; dear, give me your hand,' and as she gave it +him—wondering and yet fearful—he touched it lightly and reverently +with his lips.</p> + +<p>'Now I must go. Some day—years hence, perhaps—I shall speak of this +again; until then we are friends still, is it not so?'</p> + +<p>'Yes—yes,' she returned eagerly; 'we must try to forget this. I cannot +lose you altogether, Richard.'</p> + +<p>'You will never lose me; perhaps—yes it will be better—I may go away +for a little time; you must promise me one thing, to take care of +yourself, if only for the sake of your old friend Richard.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, I will promise,' she returned, bursting into tears. Oh, why was +her heart so hard; why could she not love him? As she looked after him, +walking with grave even strides down the garden path, a passionate pity +and yearning seemed to wake in her heart. How good he was, how noble, +how true. 'Oh, if he were not so young, and I could love him as he ought +to be loved,' she said to herself as the gate clanged after him, and she +was left alone in the sunset.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX</h2> + +<h3>WHARTON HALL FARM</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'A dappled sky, a world of meadows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Circling above us the black rooks fly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forward, backward; lo, their dark shadow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flits on the blossoming tapestry.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Bare grassy slopes, where kids are tethered<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Round valleys like nests all ferny-lined,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Round hills, with fluttering tree-tops feathered,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swell high in their freckled robes behind.'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jean Ingelow.</span><br /></span> +</div></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>Mr. Lambert was soon made acquainted with his son's disappointment; but +his sympathy was somewhat chilled by Richard's composed tranquillity of +bearing. Perhaps it might be a little forced, but the young man +certainly bore himself as though he had sustained no special defeat; the +concentrated gravity of purpose which had scared Ethel was still +apparent.</p> + +<p>'You need not be so anxious about me, father,' he said, with almost a +smile, in return to Mr. Lambert's look of questioning sadness. 'I have +climbed too high and have had a fall, that is all. I must bear what +other and better men have borne before me.'</p> + +<p>'My brave boy; but, Cardie, is there no hope of relenting; none?'</p> + +<p>'She would not have me, that is all I can tell you,' returned Richard, +in the same quiet voice. 'You must not take this too much to heart; it +is my fate to love her, and to go on loving her; if she refused me a +dozen times, it would be the same with me, father.'</p> + +<p>Mr. Lambert shook his head; he was greatly troubled; for the moment his +heart was a little sore against this girl, who was the destroyer of his +son's peace.</p> + +<p>'You may hide it from me, but you will eat out your heart with sadness +and longing,' he said, with something of a groan. Richard was very dear +to him, though he was not Benjamin. He was more like Joseph, he thought, +a little quaintly, as he looked up at the noble young face. 'Yes, +Joseph, the ruler among his brethren. Ah, Cardie, it is not to be, I +suppose; and now you will eat out your heart and youth with the longing +after this girl.'</p> + +<p>'Do not think so meanly of me,' returned the young man with a flush. +'You loved my mother for three years before you married her, and I only +pleaded my cause yesterday. Do you think I should be worthy of loving +the noblest, yes, the noblest of women,' he continued, his gray eyes +lighting up with enthusiasm, 'if I were so weakly to succumb to this +disappointment. <i>Laborare est orare</i>—that shall be my motto, father. We +must leave results in higher hands.'</p> + +<p>'God bless and comfort you, my son,' returned Mr. Lambert, with some +emotion. He looked at Richard with a sort of tender reverence; would +that all disappointed lovers could bear themselves as generously as his +brave boy, he thought; and then they sat for a few minutes in silence.</p> + +<p>'You do not mind my going away for a little while? I think Roy would be +glad to have me?' asked Richard presently.</p> + +<p>'No, Cardie; but we shall be sorry to lose you.'</p> + +<p>'If I were only thinking of myself, I would remain; but it will be +better for her,' he continued, hesitating; 'she could not come here, at +least, not yet; but if I were away it would make no difference. I want +you all to be kinder than ever to her, father,' and now his voice shook +a little for the first time. 'You do not know how utterly lonely and +miserable she is,' and the promise given, Richard quietly turned the +conversation into other channels.</p> + +<p>But he was less reticent with Mildred, and to her he avowed that his +pain was very great.</p> + +<p>'I can bear to live without her; at least I could be patient for years, +but I cannot bear leaving her to her father's sorry protection. If my +love could only shield her in her trouble, I think I could be content,' +and Mildred understood him.</p> + +<p>'We will all be so good to her for your sake,' she returned, with a nice +womanly tact, not wearying him with effusion of sympathy, but giving him +just the comforting assurance he needed. Richard's fortitude and +calmness had deceived his father, but Mildred knew something of the +silence of exceeding pain.</p> + +<p>'Thank you,' he said in a low voice; and Mildred knew she had said the +right thing.</p> + +<p>But as he was bidding them good-bye two days afterwards, he beckoned her +apart from the others.</p> + +<p>'Aunt Milly, I trust her to you,' he said, hurriedly; 'remember all my +comfort lies in your goodness to her.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, Richard, I know; as far as I can, I will be her friend. You shall +hear everything from me,' and so she sent him away half-comforted.</p> + +<p>Half—comforted, though his heart ached with its mighty burden of love; +and though he would have given half his strong young years to hear her +say, 'I love you, Richard.' Could older men love better, nay, half as +well as he did, with such self-sacrificing purity and faith?</p> + +<p>Yes, his pain was great, for delay and uncertainty are bitter to the +young, and they would fain cleave with impatient hand the veiled mystery +of life; but nevertheless his heart was strong within him, for though he +could not speak of his hope, for fear that others might call it +visionary, yet it stirred to the very foundation of his soul; for so +surely as he suffered now, he knew that one day he should call Ethel +Trelawny his wife.</p> + +<p>When Richard was gone, and the household unobservant and occupied in its +own business, Mildred quietly fetched her shady hat, and went through +the field paths, bordered by tall grasses and great shining ox-eyed +daises, which led to the shrubberies of Kirkleatham.</p> + +<p>The great house was blazing in the sunshine; Ethel's doves were cooing +from the tower; through the trees Mildred could see the glimmer of a +white gown; the basket-work chair was in its old place, under her +favourite acacia tree; the hills looked blue and misty in the distance.</p> + +<p>Ethel turned very pale when she saw her friend, and there was visible +constraint in her manner.</p> + +<p>'I did not expect you; you should not have come out in all this heat, +Mildred.'</p> + +<p>'I knew you would scold me; but I have not seen you for nearly a week, +so I came through the tropics to look after you,' returned Mildred, +playfully. 'You are under my care now. Richard begged me to be good to +you,' she continued, more seriously.</p> + +<p>A painful flush crossed Ethel's face; her eyelids dropped.</p> + +<p>'You must not let this come between us, Ethel; it will make him more +unhappy than he is, and I fear,' speaking still more gravely, 'that +though he says so little about himself, that he must be very unhappy.'</p> + +<p>Ethel tried ineffectually to control her emotion.</p> + +<p>'I could not help it. You have no right to blame me, Mildred,' she said +in a low voice.</p> + +<p>'No, you could not help it! Who blames you, dear?—not I, nor Richard. +It was not your fault, my poor Ethel, that you could not love your old +playmate. It is your misfortune and his, that is all.'</p> + +<p>'I know how good he is,' returned Ethel, with downcast eyes. Yes, it was +her misfortune, she knew; was he not brave and noble, her knight, <i>sans +peur</i> and <i>sans reproche</i>, her lion-hearted Richard? Could any man be +more worthy of a woman's love?—and yet she had said him 'nay.' 'I know +he is good, too good,' she said, with a little spasm of fury against her +own hardness of heart, 'and I was a churl to refuse his love.'</p> + +<p>'Hush; how could you help it? we cannot control these things, we women,' +returned Mildred, still anxious to soothe. She looked at the pale girl +before her with a feeling of tender awe, not unmixed with envy, that she +should have inspired such passionate devotion, and yet remained +untouched by it. This was a puzzle to gentle Mildred. 'You must try to +put it all out of your mind, and come to us again,' she finished, with +an unconscious sigh. 'Richard wished it; that is why he has gone away.'</p> + +<p>'Has he gone away?' asked Ethel with a startled glance, and Mildred's +brief resentment vanished when she saw how heavy the once brilliant eyes +looked. Richard would have been grieved as well as comforted if he had +known how many tears Ethel's hardness of heart had caused her. She had +been thinking very tenderly of him until Mildred came between her and +the sunshine; she was sorry and yet relieved to hear he was gone; the +pain of meeting him again would be so great, she thought.</p> + +<p>'It was wise of him to go, was it not?' returned Mildred. 'It was just +like his kind consideration. Oh, you do not know Richard.'</p> + +<p>'No, I do not know him,' replied Ethel, humbly. 'When he came and spoke +to me, I would not believe it was he, himself; it seemed another +Richard, so different. Oh, Mildred, tell me that you do not hate me for +being so hard, not as I hate myself.'</p> + +<p>'No, no, my poor child,' returned Mildred fondly. Ethel had thrown +herself on the grass beside her friend, and was looking up in her face +with great pathetic eyes. With her white gown and pale cheeks she looked +very young and fair. Mildred was thankful Richard could not see her. +'No, whatever happens, we shall always be the same to each other. I +shall only love you a little more because Richard loves you.'</p> + +<p>There was not much talk after that. Ethel's shyness was not easily to be +overcome. The sweet dreamy look had come back to her eyes. Mildred had +forgiven her; she would not let this pain come between them; she might +still be with her friends at the vicarage; and as she thought of this +she blessed Richard in her heart for his generosity.</p> + +<p>But Mildred went back a little sadly down the croft, and through the +path with the great white daisies. The inequality of things oppressed +her; the surface of their little world seemed troubled and disturbed as +though with some impending changes. They were girls and boys no longer, +but men and women, with full-grown capacities for joy and sorrow, with +youthful desires stretching hither and thither.</p> + +<p>'Most men work out their lot in life. After all, Cardie may get his +heart's desire; it is only women who must wait till their fate comes to +them, sometimes with empty hands,' thought Mildred, a little +rebelliously, looking over the long level of sunshine that lay before +her; and then she shook off the thought as though it stung her, and +hummed a little tune as she filled her basket with roses. 'Roses and +sunshine; a golden paradise hiding somewhere behind the low blue hills; +the earth, radiant under the Divine glittering smile; a fragrant wind +sweeping over the sea of grass, till it rippled with green light; "and +God saw that it was good," this beautiful earth that He had made, yes, +it is good; it is only we who cloud and mar its brightness with our +repinings,' thought Mildred, preaching to herself softly, as she laid +the white buds among her ferns. 'A jarring note, a missing chord, and we +are out of harmony with it all; and though the sun shines, the midges +trouble us.'</p> + +<p>It was arranged that on the next day Mr. Marsden was to escort Mildred +and her nieces to Wharton Hall, that the young curate might have an +opportunity of witnessing a Westmorland clipping.</p> + +<p>It was an intensely hot afternoon, but neither Polly nor Chriss were +willing to give up the expedition. So as Mildred was too good-natured to +plead a headache as an excuse, and as Olive was always ready to enact +the part of a martyr on an emergency, neither of them owned how greatly +they dreaded the hot, shadeless roads.</p> + +<p>'It is a long lane that has no turning,' gasped Hugh, as they reached +the little gate that bounded the Wharton Hall property. 'It is a mercy +we have escaped sunstroke.'</p> + +<p>'Providence is kinder than you deserve, you see,' observed a quiet voice +behind him.</p> + +<p>And there was Dr. Heriot leading his horse over the turf.</p> + +<p>'Miss Lambert, have you taken leave of your usual good sense, or have +you forgotten to consult your thermometer?'</p> + +<p>'I was unwilling to disappoint the girls, that was all,' returned +Mildred; 'they were so anxious that Mr. Marsden should be initiated into +the mysteries of sheep-clipping. Mrs. Colby has promised us some tea, +and we shall have a long rest, and return in the cool of the evening.'</p> + +<p>'I think I shall get an invitation for tea too. My mare has lamed +herself, and I wanted Michael Colby's head man to see her; he is a handy +fellow. I was here yesterday on business; they were clipping then.'</p> + +<p>'Mr. Marsden ought to have been here two years ago,' interposed Polly +eagerly. 'Mr. Colby got up a regular old-fashioned clipping for Aunt +Milly. Oh, it was such fun.'</p> + +<p>'What! are there fashions in sheep-shearing?' asked Hugh, in an amused +tone. They were still standing by the little gate, under the shade of +some trees; before them were the farm-buildings and outhouses; and the +great ivied gateway, which led to the courtyard and house. Under the +gray walls were some small Scotch oxen; a peacock trailed its feathers +lazily in the dust. The air was resonant with the bleating of sheep and +lambs; the girls in their white dresses and broad-brimmed hats made a +pretty picture under the old elms. Mildred looked like a soft gray +shadow behind them.</p> + +<p>'There are clippings and clippings,' returned Dr. Heriot, sententiously, +in answer to Hugh's half-amused and half-contemptuous question. 'This is +a very ordinary affair compared with that to which Polly refers.'</p> + +<p>'How so?' asked Hugh, curiously.</p> + +<p>'Owners of large stocks, I have been told, often have their sheep +clipped in sections, employ a certain number of men from day to day, and +provide a certain number of sheep, each clipper turning off seven or +eight sheep an hour.'</p> + +<p>'Well, and the old-fashioned clipping?'</p> + +<p>'Oh, that was another affair, and involved feasting and revelry. The +owner of a farm like this, for example, sets apart a special day, and +bids his friends and neighbours for miles round to assist him in the +work. It is generally considered that a man should clip threescore and +ten sheep in a day, a good clipper fourscore.'</p> + +<p>'I thought the sheep-washing last month a very amusing sight.'</p> + +<p>'Ah, Sowerby tells me that sheep improve more between washing and +clipping than at any other period of equal length. Have you ever seen +Best's <i>Farming Book</i>, two hundred years old? If you can master the old +spelling, it is very curious to read. It says there "that a man should +always forbear clipping his sheep till such time as he find their wool +indifferently well risen from the skin; and that for divers reasons."'</p> + +<p>'Give us the reasons,' laughed Hugh. 'I believe if I were not in holy +orders I should prefer farming to any other calling.' And Dr. Heriot +drew out a thick notebook.</p> + +<p>'I was struck with the quaintness, and copied the extract out verbatim. +This is what old Best says:—</p> + +<blockquote><p>'"I. When the wool is well risen from the skin the fleece is as +it were walked together on the top, and underneath it is but +lightly fastened to the undergrowth; and when a fleece is thus +it is called a mattrice coat.</p> + +<p>'"II. When wool is thus risen there is no waste, for it comes +wholly off without any bits or locks.</p> + +<p>'"III. Fleeces, when they are thus, are far more easy to wind +up, and also more easy for the clippers, for a man may almost +pull them off without any clipping at all.</p> + +<p>'"IV. Sheep that have their wool thus risen have, without +question, a good undergrowth, whereby they will be better able +to endure a storm than those that have all taken away to the +very skin."</p></blockquote> + +<p>'You will notice, Marsden, as I did when I first came here, that the +sheep are not so clearly shorn as in the south. They have a rough, +almost untidy look; but perhaps the keener climate necessitates it. An +old proverb says:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The man that is about to clip his sheepe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Must pray for two faire dayes and one faire weeke."'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>'That needs translation, Dr. Heriot. Chriss looks puzzled.'</p> + +<p>'I must annotate Best, then. And here Michael Sowerby is my informant. +Don't you see, farmers like a fine day beforehand, that the wool may be +dry—the day he clips, and the ensuing week—that the sheep may be +hardened, and their wool somewhat grown before a storm comes.'</p> + +<p>'They shear earlier in the south,' observed Hugh. He was curiously +interested in the whole thing.</p> + +<p>'According to Best it used to be here in the middle of June, but it is +rarely earlier than the end of June or beginning of July. There is an +old saying, and a very quaint one, that you should not clip your sheep +till you see the "grasshopper sweat," and it depends on the nature of +the season—whether early or late—when this phenomenon appears in the +pastures.'</p> + +<p>'I see no sort of information comes amiss to Dr. Heriot,' was Hugh's +admiring aside to Olive.</p> + +<p>Olive smiled, and nodded. The conversation had not particularly +interested her, but she liked this idle lingering in the shade; the +ivied walls and gateway, and the small blue-black cattle, with the +peacock strutting in the sun, made up a pretty picture. She followed +almost reluctantly, when Dr. Heriot stretched himself, and called to his +mare, who was feeding beside them, and then led the way to the +sheep-pens. Here there was blazing sunshine again, hoarse voices and +laughing, and the incessant bleating of sheep, and all the bustle +attendant on a clipping.</p> + +<p>Mr. Colby came forward to meet them, with warm welcome. He was a tall, +erect man, with a pleasant, weatherbeaten face, and a voice with the +regular Westmorland accent. Hugh, as the newcomer, was treated with +marked attention, and regret was at once manifested that he should only +witness such a very poor affair.</p> + +<p>But Hugh Marsden, who had been bred in towns, thought it a very novel +and amusing sight. There were ten or twelve clippers at work, each +having his stool or creel, his pair of shears, and a small cord to bind +the feet of the victims.</p> + +<p>The patient creatures lay helplessly under the hands that were so +skilfully denuding them of their fleece. Sometimes there was a +struggling mass of wool, but in most instances there was no resistance, +and it was impossible to help admiring the skill and rapidity of some of +the clippers.</p> + +<p>The flock was penned close at hand; boys caught them when wanted, and +brought them to the clippers, received them when shorn, and took them to +the markers, who also applied the tar to the wounded.</p> + +<p>In the distance the lambs were being dipped, and filled the air with +their distressful bleatings, refusing to recognise in the shorn, +miserable creatures that advanced to meet them the comfortable fleecy +parents they had left an hour ago.</p> + +<p>Olive watched the heartrending spectacle till her heart grew pitiful. +The poor sheep themselves were baffled by the noxious sulphur with which +the fleece of the lambs were dripping. In the pasture there was +confusion, a mass of white shivering bodies, now and then ecstasies, +recognition, content. To her the whole thing was a living poem—the +innocent faces, the unrest, the plaintive misery, were intact with +higher meanings.</p> + +<p>'This miserable little lamb, dirty and woebegone, cannot find its +mother,' she thought to herself. 'It is even braving the terrors of the +crowded yard to find her; even with these dumb, unreasoning creatures, +love casteth out fear.'</p> + +<p>'Mr. Colby has been telling us such a curious thing,' said Hugh, coming +to her side, and speaking with his usual loud-voiced animation. 'He says +that in the good old times the Fell clergy always attended these +clippings, and acted the part of "doctor;" I mean applied the tar to the +wounded sheep.'</p> + +<p>'Colby has rather a racy anecdote on that subject,' observed Dr. Heriot, +overhearing him. 'Let's have it, Michael, while your wife's tea is +brewing. By the bye, I have not tasted your "clipping ale" yet.'</p> + +<p>'All right, doctor, it is to the fore. If the story you mean concerns +the election of a minister, I think I remember it.'</p> + +<p>'Of course you do; two of the electors were discussing the merits of the +rival candidates, one of whom had preached his trial sermon that day.'</p> + +<p>Michael Colby rubbed his head thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>'Ay, ay; now I mind.'</p> + +<p>'"Ay," says one, "a varra good sarmon, John; I think he'll du."'</p> + +<p>'"Du," says John; "ay, fer a Sunday priest, I'll grant ye, he's aw weel +enugh; byt fer clippens en kirsnens toder 'ill bang him aw't nowt."'</p> + +<p>Mildred was no longer able to conceal that her head ached severely, and, +at a whispered request from Polly, Dr. Heriot led the way to the +farmhouse.</p> + +<p>Strangers, seeing Wharton Hall for the first time, are always struck by +the beauty of the old gateway, mantled in ivy, through which is the trim +flower-bordered inclosure, with its comfortable dwelling-house and low, +long dairy, and its picturesque remnant of ruins, the whole forming +three sides of a quadrangle.</p> + +<p>Wharton Hall itself was built by Thomas Lord Wharton about the middle of +the sixteenth century, and is a good specimen of a house of the period. +Part of it is now in ruins, a portion of it occupied as a farmhouse.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Colby, a trim, natty-looking little body, was bustling about the +great kitchen with her maids. Tea was not quite ready, and there was a +short interval of waiting, in a long, narrow room upstairs, with a great +window, looking over the dairy and garden, and the beautiful old +gateway.</p> + +<p>'I call this my ideal of a farmhouse!' cried Hugh enthusiastically, as +they went down the old crazy staircase, having peeped into a great empty +room, which Polly whispered would make a glorious ballroom.</p> + +<p>The sunshine was streaming into the great kitchen through the narrow +windows. July as it was, a bright fire burnt in the huge fireplace; the +little round table literally groaned under the dainties with which it +was spread; steel forks and delicate old silver spoons lay side by side, +the great clock ticked, the red-armed maids went clattering through the +flagged passages and dairies, a brood of little yellow chickens clucked +and pecked outside in the dust.</p> + +<p>'What a picture it all is,' said Olive; and Dr. Heriot laughed. The +white dresses and the girls' fresh faces made up the principal part of +the picture to him. The grand old kitchen, the sunshine, and the gateway +outside were only the background, the accessories of the whole.</p> + +<p>Polly wore a breast-knot of pale pinky roses; she had laid aside her +broad-brimmed hat; as she moved hither and thither in her trailing +dress, with her short, almost boyishly-cropped hair, she looked so +graceful and piquante that Dr. Heriot's eyes followed her everywhere +with unconscious pleasure.</p> + +<p>Polly was more than eighteen now, but her hair had never grown +properly—it was still tucked behind the pretty little ears, and the +smooth glossy head still felt like the down of an unfledged bird; 'there +was something uncommon about Polly Ellison's style,' as people said, and +as Mildred sometimes observed to Dr. Heriot—'Polly is certainly growing +very pretty.'</p> + +<p>He thought so now as he watched the delicate, high-bred face, the cheeks +as softly tinted as the roses she wore. Polly's gentle fun always made +her the life of the party; she was busily putting in the sugar with the +old-fashioned tongs—she carried the cups to Dr. Heriot and Hugh with +saucy little speeches.</p> + +<p>How well Mildred remembered that evening afterwards. Dr. Heriot had +placed her in the old rocking-chair beside the open window, and had +thrown himself down on the settle beside her. Chriss, who was a regular +salamander, had betaken herself to the farmer's great elbow-chair; the +other girls and Hugh had gathered round the little table; the sunshine +fell full on Hugh's beaming face and Olive's thoughtful profile; how +peaceful and bright it all was, she thought, in spite of her aching +head; the girlish laughter pealed through the room, the sparrows and +martins chirped from the ivy, the sheep bleating sounded musically from +the distance.</p> + +<p>'It is an ill wind that blows no one any good,' laughed Dr. Heriot; 'my +mare's lameness has given me an excuse for idleness. Look at that fellow +Marsden; it puts one into a good temper only to look at him; he reminds +one of a moorland breeze, so healthy and so exuberant.'</p> + +<p>'We are going to see the dairy!' cried Polly, springing up; 'Chriss and +I and Mr. Marsden. Olive is too lazy to come.'</p> + +<p>'No, I am only tired,' returned Olive, a little weary of the mirth and +longing for quiet.</p> + +<p>When the others had gone she stole up the crazy stairs and stood for a +long time in the great window looking at the old gateway. They all +wondered where she was, when Hugh found her and brought her down, and +they walked home through the gray glimmering fields.</p> + +<p>'I wonder of what you were thinking when I came in and startled you?' +asked Hugh presently.</p> + +<p>'I don't know—at least I cannot tell you,' returned Olive, blushing in +the dusky light. Could she tell any one the wonderful thoughts that +sometimes came to her at such hours; would he understand it if she +could?</p> + +<p>The young man looked disconcerted—almost hurt.</p> + +<p>'You think I should not understand,' he returned, a little piqued, in +spite of his sweet temper; 'you have never forgiven me my scepticism +with regard to poetry. I thought you did not bear malice, Miss Olive.'</p> + +<p>'Neither do I,' she returned, distressed. 'I was only sorry for you +then, and I am sorry now you miss so much; poetry is like music, you +know, and seems to harmonise and go with everything.'</p> + +<p>'Nature has made me prosaic and stupid, I suppose,' returned Hugh, +almost sorrowfully. He did not like to be told that he could not +understand; he had a curious notion that he would like to know the +thoughts that had made her eyes so soft and shining; it seemed strange +to him that any girl should dwell so apart in a world of her own. 'How +you must despise me,' he said at last, with a touch of bitterness, 'for +being what I am.'</p> + +<p>'Hush, Mr. Marsden, how can you talk so?' returned Olive in a voice of +rebuke.</p> + +<p>The idea shocked her. What were her beautiful thoughts compared to his +deeds—her dreamy, contemplative life contrasted with his intense +working energies? As she looked up at the great broad-shouldered young +fellow striding beside her, with swinging arms and great voice, and +simple boyish face, it came upon her that perhaps his was the very +essence of poetry, the entire harmony of mind and will with the work +that was planned for him.</p> + +<p>'Oh, Mr. Marsden, you must never say that again,' she said earnestly, so +that Hugh was mollified.</p> + +<p>And then, as was often the case with the foolish-fond fellow, when he +could get a listener, he descanted eagerly about his little Croydon +house and his mother and sisters. Olive was always ready to hear what +interested people; she thought Hugh was not without a certain homely +poetry as she listened—perhaps the moonlight, the glimmering fields, or +Olive's soft sympathy inspired him; but he made her see it all.</p> + +<p>The little old house, with its faded carpet and hangings, and its +cupboards of blue dragon-china—'bogie-china' as they had called it in +their childhood—the old-fashioned country town, the gray old +almshouses, Church Street, steep and winding, and the old church with +its square tower, and four poplar trees—yes, she could see it all.</p> + +<p>Olive and Chriss even knew all about Dora and Florence and Sophy; they +had seen their photographs at least a dozen times, large, plain-featured +women, with pleasant kindly eyes, Dora especially.</p> + +<p>Dora was an invalid, and wrote little books for the Christian Knowledge +Society, and Florence and Sophy gave lessons in the shabby little +parlour that looked out on Church Street; through the wire blinds the +sisters' little scholars looked out at the old-fashioned butcher's shop +and the adjoining jeweller's. At the back of the house there was a long +narrow garden, with great bushes of lavender and rosemary.</p> + +<p>The letters that came to Hugh were all fragrant with lavender, great +bunches of it decked the vases in his little parlour at Miss Farrer's; +antimacassars, knitted socks, endless pen-wipers and kettle-holders, +were fashioned for Hugh in the little back room with its narrow windows +looking over the garden, where Dora always lay on her little couch.</p> + +<p>'She is such a good woman—they are all such good women,' he would say, +with clumsy eloquence that went to Olive's heart; 'they are never sad +and moping, they believe the best of everybody, and work from morning +till night, and they are so good to the poor, Sophy especially.'</p> + +<p>'How I should like to know them,' Olive would reply simply; she believed +Hugh implicitly when he assured her that Florence was the handsomest +woman he knew; love had beautified those plain-featured women into +absolute beauty, divine kindness and goodness shone out of their eyes, +devotion and purity had transformed them.</p> + +<p>'That is what Dora says, she would so like to know you; they have read +your book and they think it beautiful. They say you must be so good to +have such thoughts!' cried Hugh, with sudden effusion.</p> + +<p>'What are you two young people talking about?' cried Dr. Heriot's voice +in the darkness. 'Polly has quarrelled with me, and Chriss is cross, and +Miss Lambert is dreadfully tired.'</p> + +<p>'Are you tired, Aunt Milly? Mr. Marsden has been telling me about his +sisters, and—and—I think we have had a little quarrel too.'</p> + +<p>'No, it was I that was cross,' returned Hugh, with his big laugh; 'it +always tries my temper when people talk in an unknown tongue.'</p> + +<p>Olive gave him a kind look as she bade him good-night.</p> + +<p>'I have enjoyed hearing about your sisters, so you must never call +yourself prosaic and stupid again, Mr. Marsden,' she said, as she +followed the others into the house.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI</h2> + +<h3>UNDER STENKRITH BRIDGE</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'I never felt chill shadow in my heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Until this sunset.'—<span class="smcap">George Eliot.</span><br /></span> +</div></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>A few days after the Wharton Hall clipping, Mildred went down to the +station to see some friends off by the train to Penrith. A party of +bright-faced boys and girls had invaded the vicarage that day, and +Mildred, who was never happier than when surrounded by young people, had +readily acceded to their petition to walk back with them to the station.</p> + +<p>It was a lovely July evening, and as Mildred waved her last adieu, and +ascended the steps leading to the road, she felt tempted to linger, and, +instead of turning homewards, to direct her steps to a favourite place +they often visited—Stenkrith Bridge.</p> + +<p>Stenkrith Bridge lies just beyond the station, and carries the Nateby +road across the river and the South Durham railway. On either side of +the road there are picturesque glimpses of this lovely spot. Leaning +over the bridge, one can see huge fragmentary boulders, deep shining +pools, and the spray and froth of a miniature cascade.</p> + +<p>There is an interesting account of this place by a contemporary which is +worthy of reproduction.</p> + +<p>He says, 'Above the bridge the water of Eden finds its way under, +between, or over some curiously-shaped rocks, locally termed "brockram," +in which, by the action of pebbles driven round and round by the water +in times of flood, many curious holes have been formed. Just as it +reaches the bridge, the water falls a considerable depth into a +round-shaped pool or "lum," called Coop Kernan Hole: the word hole is an +unnecessary repetition. The place has its name from the fact that by the +action of the water it has been partly hollowed out between the rock; at +all events, is cup or coop-shaped, and the water which falls into it is +churned and agitated like cream in an old-fashioned churn, before +escaping through the fissures of the rocks.</p> + +<p>'After falling into Coop Kernan Hole, the water passes through a narrow +fissure into another pool or lum at the low side of the bridge, called +"Spandub," which has been so named because the distance of the rocks +between which the river ran, and which overshadow it, could be spanned +by the hand.</p> + +<p>'We doubt not that grown men and adventurous youths had many a time +stretched their hands across the narrow chasm, and remembered and talked +about it when far away from their native place; and when strangers came +to visit our town, and saw the beautiful river, on the banks of which it +stands, they would be hard to convince that half a mile higher up it was +only a span wide. But William Ketching came lusting for notoriety, +stretched out his evil hand across the narrow fissure, declared he would +be the last man to span Eden, and with his walling-hammer broke off +several inches from that part of the rock where it was most nearly +touching. "It was varra bad," says an old friend of ours who remembers +the incident; "varra bad on him; he sudn't hev done it. It was girt +curiosity to span Eden."'</p> + +<p>Mildred had an intense affection for this beautiful spot. It was the +scene of many a merry gipsy tea; and in the summer Olive and she often +made it their resort, taking their work or books and spending long +afternoons there.</p> + +<p>This evening she would enjoy it alone, 'with only pleasant thoughts for +company,' she said to herself, as she strolled contentedly down the +smooth green glade, where browsing cattle only broke the silence, and +then made her way down the bank to the river-side.</p> + +<p>Here she sat down, rapt for a time by the still beauty of the place. +Below her, far as she could see, lay the huge gray and white stones +through which the water worked its channel. Low trees and shrubs grew in +picturesque confusion—dark lichen-covered rocks towered, jagged and +massive, on either side of the narrow chasm. Through the arch of the +bridge one saw a vista of violet-blue sky and green foliage. The rush of +the water into Coop Kernan Hole filled the ear with soft incessant +sound. Some one beside Mildred seemed rooted to the spot.</p> + +<p>'This is a favourite place with you, I know,' said a voice in her ear; +and Mildred, roused from her dreams, started, and turned round, blushing +with the sudden surprise.</p> + +<p>'Dr. Heriot, how could you? You have startled me dreadfully!'</p> + +<p>'Did you not see me coming?' he returned, jumping lightly from one rock +to the other, and settling himself comfortably a little below her. 'I +saw you at the station and followed you here. Do I intrude on pleasanter +thoughts?' he continued, giving her the benefit of one of his keen, +quiet glances.</p> + +<p>'No; oh no,' stammered Mildred. All at once she felt ill at ease. The +situation was novel—unexpected. She had often encountered Dr. Heriot in +her walks and drives, but he had never so frankly sought her out as on +this evening. His manner was the same as usual—friendly, +self-possessed—but for the first time in her life Mildred was tormented +with a painful self-consciousness. Her slight confusion was unnoticed, +however, for Dr. Heriot went on in the same cool, well-assured voice—</p> + +<p>'You are such a comfortable person, Miss Lambert, one can always depend +on hearing the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth from +you. I confess I should have been grievously disappointed if you had +sent me about my own business.'</p> + +<p>'Am I given to dismiss you in such a churlish manner, Dr. Heriot?' +returned Mildred, with a little nervous laugh; but she only thought, +'How strange of him to follow me here!'</p> + +<p>'You are the soul of courtesy itself; you have a benevolent forehead, +Miss Lambert. "Entertainment for Pilgrims" ought to be bound round it as +a sort of phylactery. Why are women so much more unselfish than men, I +wonder?'</p> + +<p>'They need something to compensate them for their weakness,' she +returned, softly.</p> + +<p>'Their weakness is strength sometimes, and masters our brute force. I am +in the mood for moralising, you see. Last Sunday evening I was reading +my <i>Pilgrim's Progress</i>. I have retained my old childish penchant for +it. Apollyon with his darts was my favourite nightmare for years. When I +came to the part about Charity and the Palace Beautiful, I thought of +you.'</p> + +<p>Mildred raised her eyes in surprise, and again the sensitive colour rose +to her face. Dr. Heriot was given to moralising, she knew, but it was a +little forced this evening. In spite of his coolness a suppressed +excitement bordered the edge of his words; he looked like a man on the +brink of a resolution.</p> + +<p>'The damsel Discretion would suit me better,' she said at last, with +assumed lightness.</p> + +<p>'Yes, Discretion is your handmaid, but my name fits you more truly,' he +returned, with a kind look which somehow made her heart beat faster. +'Your sympathy offers such a soft pillow for sore hearts, and aches and +troubles—have you a ward for incurables, as well as for the sick and +maimed waifs and strays of humanity, I wonder?'</p> + +<p>'Dr. Heriot, what possesses you this evening?' returned Mildred, with +troubled looks. How strangely he was talking!—was he in fun or earnest? +Ought she to stay there and listen to him, or should she gently hint to +him the expediency of returning home? A dim instinct warned her that +this hour might be fraught with perilous pleasure; a movement would +break its spell. She rose hastily.</p> + +<p>'You are not going?' he exclaimed, raising himself in some surprise; 'it +is still early. This is an ungrateful return for the compliment I have +just paid you. I am certain it is Discretion now, and not Charity, that +speaks.'</p> + +<p>'They will be expecting me,' she returned. Dr. Heriot had risen to his +feet, and now stretched out his hand to detain her.</p> + +<p>'They do not want you,' he said, with a persuasive smile; 'they can +exist an hour without Aunt Milly. Sit down again, Charity, I entreat +you, for I have followed you here to ask your advice. I really need it,' +he continued, seriously, as Mildred still hesitated; but a glance at the +grave, kind face decided her. 'Perhaps, after all, he had some trouble, +and she might help him. It could be no harm; it was only too pleasant to +be sitting there monopolising his looks and words, usually shared with +others. The opportunity might never occur again. She would stop and hear +all that he had to say. Was he not her brother's friend, and hers also?'</p> + +<p>Dr. Heriot seemed in no hurry to explain himself; he sat throwing +pebbles absently into the watery fissures at their feet, while Mildred +watched him with some anxiety. Time had dealt very gently with Dr. +Heriot; he looked still young, in the prime of life. A close observer +might notice that the closely-cropped hair was sprinkled with gray, but +the lines that trouble had drawn were almost effaced by the kindly hand +of time. There was still a melancholy shade in the eyes, an occasional +dash of bitterness in the kind voice, but the trouble lay far back and +hidden; and it could not be denied that Dr. Heriot was visibly happier +than he had been three years ago. Yes, it was true, sympathy bad +smoothed out many a furrow; kindly fellowship and close intimacy had +brightened the life of the lonely man; little discrepancies and angles +had vanished under beneficent treatment. The young fresh lives around +him, with their passionate interests, their single-eyed pursuits, lent +him new interests, and fostered that superabundant benevolence; and Hope +and its twin-sister Desire bloomed by the side of his desolate hearth.</p> + +<p>Dr. Heriot had ever told himself that passion was dead within him, slain +by that deadly disgust and terror of years. 'A man cannot love twice as +I loved Margaret,' he had said to his friend more than once; and the two +men, drawn together by a loss so similar, and yet so diverse, had owned +that in their case, and with their faithful tenacity, no second love +could be possible.</p> + +<p>'But you are a comparatively young man; you are in the very prime of +life, Heriot; you ought to marry,' his friend had said to him once.</p> + +<p>'I do not care to marry for friendship and companionship,' he had +answered. 'My wife must be everything or nothing to me. I must love with +passion or not at all.' And there had risen up before his mind the +dreary spectacle of a degraded beauty that he once had worshipped, and +which had power to charm him to the very last.</p> + +<p>It was three years since Dr. Heriot had uttered his bitter protest +against matrimony, and since then there had grown up in his heart a +certain sweet fancy, which had emanated first out of pure benevolence, +but which, while he cherished and fostered it, had grown very dear to +him.</p> + +<p>He was thinking of it now, as the pebbles splashed harmlessly in the +narrow rivulets, while Mildred watched him, and thought with curious +incongruity of the dark, sunless pool lying behind the gray rocks, and +of the wild churning and seething of foamy waters which seemed to deaden +their voices; would he ever speak, she wondered. She sat with folded +hands, and a soft, perplexed smile on her face, as she waited, listening +to the dreamy rush of the water.</p> + +<p>He roused himself at last in earnest.</p> + +<p>'How good you are to me, Miss Lambert. After all, I have no right to tax +your forbearance.'</p> + +<p>'All friends have a right,' was the low answer.</p> + +<p>'All friends, yes. I wonder what any very special friend dare claim from +you? I could fancy your goodness without stint or limit then; it would +bear comparison with the deep waters of Coop Kernan Hole itself.'</p> + +<p>'Then you flatter me;' but she blushed, yes, to her sorrow, as Mildred +rarely blushed.</p> + +<p>'You see I am disposed to shelter myself beside it. Miss Lambert, I need +not ask you—you know my trouble.'</p> + +<p>'Your trouble? Oh yes; Arnold told me.'</p> + +<p>'And you are sorry for me?'</p> + +<p>'More than I can say,' and Mildred's voice trembled a little, and the +tears came to her eyes. With a sort of impulse she stretched out her +hand to him—that beautiful woman's hand he had so often admired.</p> + +<p>'Thank you,' he returned, gratefully, and holding it in his. 'Miss +Lambert, I feel you are my friend; that I dare speak to you. Will you +give me your advice to-night, as though—as though you were my sister?'</p> + +<p>'Can you doubt it?' in a voice so low that it was almost inaudible. A +slight, almost imperceptible shiver passed over her frame, but her mild +glance still rested on his averted face; some subtle sadness that was +not pain seemed creeping over her; somewhere there seemed a void opened, +an empty space, filled with a dying light. Mildred never knew what ailed +her at that moment, only, as she sat there with her hands once more +folded in her lap, she thought again of the dark, sunless pool lying +behind the gray rocks, and of the grewsome cavern, where the churned and +seething waters worked their way to the light.</p> + +<p>Somewhere from the distance Dr. Heriot's voice seemed to rouse her.</p> + +<p>'You are so good and true yourself, that you inspire confidence. A man +dare trust you with his dearest secret, and yet feel no dread of +betrayal; you are so gentle and so unselfish, that others lay their +burdens at your feet.'</p> + +<p>'No, no—please don't praise me. I have done nothing—nothing—that any +other woman would not have done,' returned Mildred, in a constrained +tone. She shrank from this praise. Somehow it wounded her sensibility. +He must talk of his trouble and not her, and then, perhaps, she would +grow calm again, more like the wise, self-controlled Mildred he thought +her.</p> + +<p>'I only want to justify the impulse that bade me follow you just now,' +he returned, with gentle gravity. 'You shall not lose the fruit of your +humility through me, Miss Lambert. I am glad you know my sad story, it +makes my task an easier one.'</p> + +<p>'You must have suffered greatly, Dr. Heriot.'</p> + +<p>'Ah, have I not?' catching his breath quickly. 'You do not know, how can +you, how a man of my nature loves the woman he has made his wife.'</p> + +<p>'She must have been very beautiful.' The words escaped from Mildred +before she was aware.</p> + +<p>'Beautiful,' he returned, in a tone of gloomy triumph. 'I never saw a +face like hers, never; but it was not her beauty only that I loved; it +was herself—her real self—as she was to others, never to me. You may +judge the power of her fascination, when I tell you that I loved her to +the last in spite of all—ay, in spite of all—and though she murdered +my happiness. Oh, the heaven our home might have been, if our boy had +lived,' speaking more to himself than to her, but her calm voice +recalled him.</p> + +<p>'Time heals even these terrible wounds.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, time and the kindness of friends. I was not ungrateful, even in my +loneliness. Since Margaret died, I have been thankful for moderate +blessings, but now they cease to content me: in spite of my resolve +never to call another woman my wife, I am growing strangely restless and +lonely.'</p> + +<p>'You have thought of some one; you want my advice, my assistance, +perhaps.' Would those churning waters never be still? A fine trembling +passed through the folded fingers, but the sweet, quiet tones did not +falter. Were there two Mildreds, one suffering a new, unknown pain; the +other sitting quietly on a gray boulder, with the water lapping to her +very feet.</p> + +<p>'Yes, I have thought of some one,' was the steady answer. 'I have +thought of my ward.'</p> + +<p>'Polly!' Ah, surely those seething waters must burst their bounds now, +and overwhelm them with a noisy flood. Was she dreaming? Did she hear +him aright?</p> + +<p>'Yes, Polly—my bright-faced Polly. Miss Lambert, you must not grow pale +over it; I am not robbing Aunt Milly of one of her children. Polly +belongs to me.'</p> + +<p>'As thy days so shall thy strength be;' the words seemed to echo in her +heart. Mildred could make nothing of the pain that had suddenly seized +on her; some unerring instinct warned her to defer inquiry. Aunt +Milly!—yes, she was only Aunt Milly, and nothing else.</p> + +<p>'You are right; Polly belongs to you,' she said, looking at him with +wistful eyes, out of which the tender, shining light seemed somehow +faded, 'but you must not sacrifice yourself for all that,' she +continued, with the old-fashioned wisdom he had ever found in her.</p> + +<p>'There you wrong me; it will be no sacrifice,' he returned, eagerly. +'Year by year Polly has been growing very dear to me. I have watched her +closely; you could not find a sweeter nature anywhere.'</p> + +<p>'She is worthy of a good man's love,' returned Mildred, in the same +calm, impassive tone.</p> + +<p>'You are so patient that I must not stint my confidence!' he exclaimed. +'I must tell you that for the last two years this thought has been +growing up in my heart, at first with reluctant anxiety, but lately with +increasing delight. I love Polly very dearly, Miss Lambert; all the +more, that she is so dependent on me.'</p> + +<p>Mildred did not answer, but evidently Dr. Heriot found her silence +sympathetic, for he went on in the same absorbed tone—</p> + +<p>'I do not deny that at one time the thought gave me pain, and that I +doubted my ability to carry out my plan, but now it is different. I love +her well enough to wish to be her protector; well enough to redeem her +father's trust. In making this young orphan my wife, I shall console +myself; my conscience and my heart will be alike satisfied.'</p> + +<p>'She is very young,' began Mildred, but he interrupted her a little +sadly.</p> + +<p>'That is my only remaining difficulty—she is so young. The discrepancy +in our ages is so apparent. I sometimes doubt whether I am right in +asking her to sacrifice herself.'</p> + +<p>A strange smile passed over Mildred's face. 'Are you sure she will +regard it in that light, Dr. Heriot?'</p> + +<p>'What do you think?' he returned, eagerly. 'It is there I want your +advice. I am not disinterested. I fear my own selfishness, my hearth is +so lonely. Think how this young girl, with her sweet looks and words, +will brighten it. Dare I venture it? Is Polly to be won?'</p> + +<p>'She is too young to have formed another attachment,' mused Mildred. 'As +far as I know, she is absolutely free; but I cannot tell, it is not +always easy to read girls.' A fleeting thought of Roy, and a probable +childish entanglement, passed through Mildred's mind as she spoke, but +the next moment it was dismissed as absurd. They were on excellent +terms, it was true, but Polly's frank, sisterly affection was too openly +expressed to excite suspicion, while Roy's flirtations were known to be +legion. A perfectly bewildering number of Christian names were carefully +entered in Polly's pocket-book, annotated by Roy himself. Polly was +cognisant of all his love affairs, and alternately coaxed and scolded +him out of his secrets.</p> + +<p>'And you think she could be induced to care for her old guardian?' asked +Dr. Heriot, and there was no mistaking the real anxiety of his tone.</p> + +<p>'Why do you call yourself old?' returned Mildred, almost brusquely. 'If +Polly be fond of you, she will not find fault with your years. Most men +do not call themselves old at eight-and-thirty.'</p> + +<p>'But I have not led the life of most men,' was the sorrowful reply. +'Sometimes I fear a bright young girl will be no mate for my sadness.'</p> + +<p>'It has not turned you into a misanthrope; you must not be discouraged, +Dr. Heriot; trouble has made you faint-hearted. The best of your life +lies before you, you may be sure of that.'</p> + +<p>'You know how to comfort, Miss Lambert. You lull fears to sleep so +sweetly that they never wake again. You will wish me success, then?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, I will wish you success,' she returned, with a strange melancholy +in her voice. Was it for her to tell him that he was deceiving himself; +that benevolence and fancy were painting for him a future that could +never be verified?</p> + +<p>He would take this young girl into the shelter of his honest heart, but +would he satisfy her, would he satisfy himself?</p> + +<p>Would his hearth be always warm and bright when she bloomed so sweetly +beside it; would her innocent affection content this man, with his deep, +passionate nature, and yearning heart; would there be no void that her +girlish intellect could not fill?</p> + +<p>Alas! she knew him too well to lay such flattering unction to her soul; +and she knew Polly too. Polly would be no child-wife, to be fed with +caresses. Her healthy woman's nature would crave her husband's +confidence without stint and limit; there must be response to her +affection, an answer to every appeal.</p> + +<p>'I will wish you success,' she had said to him, and he had not detected +the sadness of her tone, only as he turned to thank her she had risen +quickly to her feet.</p> + +<p>'Is it so late? I ought not to have kept you so long,' he exclaimed, as +he followed her.</p> + +<p>'Yes, the sun has set,' returned Mildred hurriedly; but as they walked +along side by side she suddenly hesitated and stopped. She had an odd +fancy, she told him, but she wanted to see the dark pool on the other +side of the gray rock, Coop Kernan Hole she thought they called it, for +through all their talk it had somehow haunted her.</p> + +<p>'If you will promise me not to go too near,' he had answered, 'for the +boulders are apt to be slippery at times.'</p> + +<p>And Mildred had promised.</p> + +<p>He was a little surprised when she refused all assistance and clambered +lightly from one huge boulder to another, and still more at her quiet +intensity of gaze into the black sullen pool. It was so unlike +Mildred—cheerful Mildred—to care about such places.</p> + +<p>The sunset had quite died away, but some angry, lurid clouds still +lingered westward; the air was heavy and oppressed, no breeze stirred +the birches and aspens; below them lay Coop Kernan Hole, black and +fathomless, above them the pent-up water leaped over the rocks with +white resistless force.</p> + +<p>'We shall have a storm directly; this place looks weird and uncanny +to-night; let us go.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, let us go,' returned Mildred, with a slight shiver. 'What is there +to wait for?' What indeed?</p> + +<p>She did not now refuse the assistance that Dr. Heriot offered her; her +energy was spent, she looked white and somewhat weary when they reached +the little gate. Dr. Heriot noticed it.</p> + +<p>'You look as if you had seen a ghost. I shall not bring you to this +place again in the gloaming,' he said lightly; and Mildred had laughed +too.</p> + +<p>What had she seen?</p> + +<p>Only a sunless pool, with night closing over it; only gray rocks, washed +evermore with a foaming torrent; only a yawning chasm, through which +churning waters seethed and worked their way, where a dying light could +not enter; and above thunder-clouds, black with an approaching storm.</p> + +<p>'Yes, I shall come again; not now, not for a long time, and you shall +bring me,' she had answered him, with a smile so sweet and singular that +it had haunted him.</p> + +<p>True prophetic words, but little did Mildred know when and how she would +stand beside Coop Kernan Hole again.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII</h2> + +<h3>DR. HERIOT'S WARD</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'I can pray with pureness<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For her welfare now—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since the yearning waters<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bravely were pent in.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God—He saw me cover,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a careless brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Signs that might have told her<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the work within.'—<span class="smcap">Philip Stanhope Worsley.</span><br /></span> +</div></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>The pretty shaded lamps were lighted in the drawing-room; a large gray +moth had flown in through the open windows and brushed round them in +giddy circles. Polly was singing a little plaintive French air, Roy's +favourite. <i>Tra-la-la, Qui va la</i>, it went on, with odd little trills +and drawn-out chords. Olive's book had dropped to her lap, one long +braid of hair had fallen over her hot cheek. Mildred's entrance had +broken the thread of some quiet dream,—she uttered an exclamation and +Polly's music stopped.</p> + +<p>'Dear Aunt Milly, how late you are, and how tired you look!'</p> + +<p>'Yes, I am tired, children. I have been to Stenkrith, and Dr. Heriot +found me, and we have had a long talk. I think I have missed my tea, +and——'</p> + +<p>'Aunt Milly, you look dreadful,' broke in Polly, impulsively; 'you must +sit there,' pushing her with gentle force into the low chair, 'and I +shall go and bring you some tea, and you are not to talk.'</p> + +<p>Mildred was only too thankful to submit; she leant back wearily upon the +cushions Polly's thoughtfulness had provided, with an odd feeling of +thankfulness and unrest;—how good her girls were to her. She watched +Polly coming across the room, slim and tall, carrying the little +tea-tray, her long dress flowing out behind her with gentle undulating +movement. The lamplight shone on the purple cup, and the softly-tinted +peach lying beside it, placed there by Polly's soft little fingers; she +carried a little filagree-basket, a mere toy of a thing, heaped up with +queen's cakes; a large creamy rose detached itself from her dress and +fell on Mildred's lap.</p> + +<p>'This is the second time you have shivered, and yet your hands are +warm—oh, so warm,' said the girl anxiously, as she hung over her.</p> + +<p>Mildred smiled and roused herself, and tried to do justice to the little +feast.</p> + +<p>'They had all had a busy day,' she said with a yawn, and stretching +herself.</p> + +<p>The vicarage had been a Babel since early morning, with all those noisy +tongues. Yes, the tea had refreshed her, but her head still ached, and +she thought it would be wiser to go to bed.</p> + +<p>'Please do go, Aunt Milly,' Olive had chimed in, and when she had bidden +them good-night, she heard Polly's flute-like voice bursting into +<i>Tra-la-la</i> again as she closed the door; <i>Qui va la</i> she hummed to +herself as she crept wearily along.</p> + +<p>The storm had broken some miles below them, and only harmless summer +lightning played on the ragged edges of the clouds as they gleamed +fitfully, now here, now there; there were sudden glimpses of dark hills +and a gray, still river, with some cattle grouped under the bridge, and +then darkness.</p> + +<p>'How strange to shiver in such heat,' thought Mildred, as she sat down +by the open window. She scarcely knew why she sat there—'Only for a few +minutes just to think it all out,' she said to herself, as she pressed +her aching forehead between her hands; but hours passed and still she +did not move.</p> + +<p>Years afterwards Mildred was once asked which was the bitterest hour of +her life, and she had grown suddenly pale and the answer had died away +on her lips; the remembrance of this night had power to chill her even +then.</p> + +<p>A singular conflict was raging in Mildred's gentle bosom, passions +hitherto unknown stirred and agitated it; the poor soul, dragged before +the tribunal of inexorable womanhood, had pleaded guilty to a crime that +was yet no crime—the sin of having loved unsought.</p> + +<p>Unconsciousness could shield her no longer, the beneficent cloak of +friendship could not cover her; mutual sympathy, the united strength of +goodness and intellect, her own pitying woman's heart, had wrought the +mischief under which she was now writhing with an intolerable sense of +terror and shame.</p> + +<p>And how intolerable can only be known by any pure-minded woman under the +same circumstances! It would not be too much to say that Mildred +absolutely cowered under it; tranquillity was broken up; the brain, calm +and reasonable no longer, grew feverish with the effort to piece +together tormenting fragments of recollection.</p> + +<p>Had she betrayed herself? How had she sinned if she had so sinned? What +had she done that the agony of this humiliation had come upon her—she +who had thought of others, never of herself?</p> + +<p>Was this the secret of her false peace? was her life indeed robbed of +its sweetest illusion—she who had hoped for nothing, expected nothing? +would she now go softly all her days as one who had lost her chief good?</p> + +<p>And yet what had she desired—but to keep him as her friend? was not +this the sum and head of her offending?</p> + +<p>'Oh, God, Thou knowest my integrity!' she cried from the depths of her +suffering soul.</p> + +<p>Alas! was it her fault that she loved him? was it only her fancy that +some sympathy, subtle but profound, united them? was it not he who +deceived himself? Ah, there was the stab. She knew now that she was +nothing to him and he was everything to her.</p> + +<p>Her very unconsciousness had prepared this snare for her. She had called +him her friend, but it had come to this, that his step was as music in +her ear, and the sunshine of his presence had glorified her days. How +she had looked for his coming, with what quiet welcoming smiles she had +received her friend; his silence had been as sweet to her as his words; +the very seat where he sat, the very reels of cotton on her little +work-table with which he had played, were as sacred as relics in her +eyes.</p> + +<p>How she had leant on his counsel; his yea was yea to her, and his nay, +nay. How wise and gentle he had ever been with her; once she had been +ill, and the tenderness of his sympathy had made her almost love her +illness. 'You must get well; we cannot spare you,' he had said to her, +and she had thanked him with her sweetest smiles.</p> + +<p>How happy they had been in those days: the thought of any change had +terrified her; sometimes she had imagined herself twenty years older, +but Mildred Lambert still, with a gray-haired friend coming quietly +across in the dusk to sit with her and Arnold when all the young ones +were gone—her friend, always her friend!</p> + +<p>How pitiable had been her self-deception; she must have loved him even +then. The thought of Margaret's husband marrying another woman, and that +woman the girl that she had cherished as her own daughter, tormented her +with a sense of impossibility and pain. Good heavens, what if he +deceived himself! What if for the second time in his life he worked out +his own disappointment, passion and benevolence leading him equally +astray.</p> + +<p>Sadness indescribable and profound steeped the soul of this noble woman; +pitiful efforts after prayer, wild searching for light, for her lost +calmness, for mental resolve and strength, broke the silence of her +anguish; but such a struggle could not long continue in one so meek, so +ordinarily self-controlled; then came the blessed relief of tears; then, +falling on her knees and bowed to the very dust, the poor creature +invoked the presence of the Great Sufferer, and laid the burden of her +sorrow on the broken heart of her Lord.</p> + +<p>One who loved Mildred found, long afterwards, a few lines copied from +some book, and marked with a red marginal line, with the date of this +night affixed:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'So out in the night on the wide, wild sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the wind was beating drearily,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the waters were moaning wearily,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I met with Him who had died for me.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Had she met with Him? 'Had the wounded Hand touched hers in the dark?' +Who knows?</p> + +<p>The lightnings ceased to play along the edges of the cloud, the moon +rose, the long shadows projected from the hills, the sound of cattle +hoofs came crisply up the dry channel of the beck, and still Mildred +knelt on, with her head buried on her outstretched arms. 'I will not go +unless Thou bless me'—was that her prayer?</p> + +<p>Not in words, perhaps; but as the day broke, with faint gleams and tints +of ever-broadening glory, Mildred rose from her knees, and looked over +the hills with sad, steadfast eyes.</p> + +<p>The conflict had ceased, the conqueror was only a woman—a woman no +longer young, with pale cheeks, with faded, weary eyes—but never did +braver hands gird on the cross that must henceforth be carried +unflinchingly.</p> + +<p>'Mine be the pain, and his the happiness,' she whispered. Her knees were +trembling under her with weakness, she looked wan and bloodless, but her +soul was free at last. 'I am innocent; I have done no wrong. God is my +witness!' she cried in her inmost heart. 'I shall fear to look no man in +the face. God bless him—God bless them both! He is still my friend, for +I have done nothing to forfeit his friendship. God will take care of me. +I have duty, work, blessings innumerable, and a future heaven when this +long weariness is done.'</p> + +<p>And again: 'He will never know it. He will never know that yesterday, as +I stood by his side, I longed to be lying at the bottom of the dark, +sunless pool. It was a wicked wish—God forgive me for it. I saw him +look at me once, and there was surprise in his eyes, and then he +stretched out his kind hand and led me away.'</p> + +<p>And then once more: 'There is no trouble unendurable but sin, and I +thank my God that the shame and the terror has passed, and left me, weak +indeed, but innocent as a little child. If I had known—but no, His Hand +has been with me through it all. I am not afraid; I have not betrayed +myself; I can bear what God has willed.'</p> + +<p>She had planned it all out. There must be no faltering, no flinching; +not a moment must be unoccupied. Work must be found, new interests +sought after, heart-sickness subdued by labour and fatigue; there was +only idleness to be dreaded, so she told herself.</p> + +<p>It has been often said by cynical writers that women are better actors +than men; that they will at times play out a part in the dreary farce of +life that is quite foreign to their real character, dressing their face +with smiles while their heart is still sore within them.</p> + +<p>But Mildred was not one of these; she had been taught in no ordinary +school of adversity. In the dimness of that seven years' seclusion she +had learnt lessons of fortitude and endurance that would have baffled +the patience of weaker women. Flesh and blood might shrink from the +unequal combat, but her courage would not fail; her strength, fed from +the highest sources, would still be found sufficient.</p> + +<p>Henceforth for Mildred Lambert there should shine the light of a day +that was not 'clear nor dark;' she knew that for her no dazzling sunrise +of requited love should flood her woman's kingdom with brightness; +happiness must be replaced by duty, by the quiet contentment of a heart +'at leisure from itself.'</p> + +<p>'There is no trouble unendurable but sin,' she had said to herself. Oh, +that other poor sufferers—sufferers in heart, in this world's good +things—would lay this truth to their souls! It would rob sorrow of its +sting, it would lift the deadly mists from the charnel-house itself. For +to the Mildreds of life religion is no Sunday garb, to be laid aside +when the week-day burdens press heaviest; no garbled mixture of +sentiment and symbolic rites, of lip-worship and heart freedom, +tolerated by 'the civilised heathenism' of the present day, for in their +heart they know that to the Christian, suffering is a privilege, not a +punishment; that from the days of Calvary 'Take up thy cross and follow +Me' is the literal command literally obeyed by the true followers of the +great Master of suffering.</p> + +<p>Mildred was resolved to tolerate no weakness; she dressed herself +quickly, and was down at the usual time. 'How old and faded I look,' she +thought, as she caught the reflection of herself in the glass.</p> + +<p>Her changed looks would excite comment, she knew, and she braced herself +to meet it with tolerable equanimity; a sleepless night could be pleaded +as an excuse for heavy eyes and swollen eyelids. Polly indeed seemed +disposed to renew her soft manipulations and girlish officiousness, but +Mildred contrived to put them aside. 'She was going down to the schools, +and after that there were the old women at the workhouse and at Nateby,' +she said, with the quiet firmness which always made Aunt Milly's decrees +unalterable. 'Her girls must take care of themselves until she +returned.'</p> + +<p>'Charity begins at home, Aunt Milly. I am sure Olive and I are worth a +score of old women,' grumbled Polly, who in season and out of season was +given to clatter after Mildred in her little high-heeled shoes.</p> + +<p>Dr. Heriot's ward was becoming a decidedly fashionable young lady; the +pretty feet were set off by silver buckles, Polly's heels tapped the +floor endlessly as she tripped hither and thither; Polly's long skirts, +always crisp and rustling, her fresh dainty muslins, her toy aprons and +shining ribbons, were the themes of much harmless criticism; the little +hands were always faultlessly gloved; London-marked boxes came to her +perpetually, with Roy's saucy compliments; wonderful ruby and +cream-coloured ribbons were purchased with the young artist's scanty +savings. Nor was Dr. Heriot less mindful of the innocent vanity that +somehow added to Polly's piquancy. The little watch that ticked at her +waist, the gold chain and locket, the girlish ring with its turquoise +heart, were all the gifts of the kind guardian and friend.</p> + +<p>Dr. Heriot's bounty was unfailing. The newest books found their way to +Olive's and Mildred's little work-tables; Chriss was made happy by +additions to her menagerie of pets; a gray parrot, a Skye terrier whose +shaggy coat swept the ground, even pink-eyed rabbits found their way to +the vicarage; the grand silk dresses that Dr. Heriot had sent down on +Polly's last birthday for her and Olive were nothing in Chriss's eyes +compared to Fritter-my-wig, who could smoke, draw corks, bark like a +dog, and reduce Veteran Rag to desperation by a vision of concealed cats +on the stable wall. Chriss's oddities were not disappearing with her +years—indeed she was still the same captious little person as of old; +with her bright eyes and tawny-coloured mane she was decidedly +picturesque, though stooping shoulders, and the eye-glass her +short-sight required, detracted somewhat from her good looks.</p> + +<p>On any sunny afternoon she could be seen sitting on the low step leading +to the lawn, her parrot, Fritter-my-wig, on her shoulder, and Tatters +and Witch at her feet, and most likely a volume of Euripides on her lap. +The quaint little figure, the red-brown touzle of curls, the short +striped skirt, and gold eye-glasses, struck Roy on one of his rare +visits home; one of his most charming pictures was painted from the +recollection. 'There was an Old Woman,' it was called. Chriss objected +indignantly to the dolls that were introduced, though Roy gravely +assured her that he had adhered to Hugh's beautiful idea of the twelve +months.</p> + +<p>Polly had some reason for her discontent and grumbling. The weather had +changed, and heavy summer rains seemed setting in, and Mildred's plan +for her day did not savour of prudence. It suited Mildred's sombre +thoughts better than sunshine; she went upstairs almost cheerfully, and +took out a gray cloak that was Polly's favourite aversion on the score +that it reminded her of a Sister-of-Charity cloak. 'Not that I do not +love and honour Sisters,' she had added by way of excuse, 'but I should +not like you to be one, Aunt Milly,' and Mildred had hastened to assure +her that she had never felt it to be her vocation.</p> + +<p>She remembered Polly's speech now as she shook out the creases; the +straight, long folds, the unobtrusive colour, somehow suited her. 'I +think people who are not young ought always to dress in black or gray,' +she said to herself; 'butterfly colours are only fit for girls. I should +like nothing better than to be allowed to hide all this hair under a cap +and Quaker's bonnet.' And yet, as she said this, Mildred remembered with +a sudden pang that Dr. Heriot had once observed in her hearing that she +had beautiful hair.</p> + +<p>She went on bravely through the day—no work came amiss to her; after a +time she ceased even to feel fatigue. Once the crowded schoolroom would +have made her head ache after the first hour or so, but now she sat +quite passive, with the girls sewing round her, and the boys spelling +out their tasks with incessant buzz and movement.</p> + +<p>The old women in the workhouse did not tire her with their complaints; +she sat for a long time by the side of one old creature who was +bedridden and palsied; the idiot girl—alas! she was forty years +old—blinked at her with small dazed eyes, as she showed her the +gaily-coloured pictures she had pasted on rag for her amusement, and +followed her contentedly up and down the long whitewashed wards.</p> + +<p>In the cottages she was as warmly welcomed as ever; one sick child, whom +she had often visited, held out his little arms and ceased crying with +pain when he saw her. Mildred laid aside her damp cloak, and walked up +and down the flagged kitchen for a long time with the boy's head on her +shoulder; singing to him with her low sweet voice.</p> + +<p>'Ay, but he's terrible fond of you, poor thing!' exclaimed the mother +gratefully. She was an invalid too, and lay on a board beside the empty +fireplace, looking out of the low latticed window crowded with +flower-pots. The other children gathered round her, plucking her skirt +shyly, and listening to Mildred's cooing voice; the little fellow's blue +eyes seemed closing drowsily, one small blackened hand stole very near +Mildred's neck.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'There's a home for little children<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above the bright blue sky,'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>sang Mildred.</p> + +<p>'Ay, Jock; but, thoo lile varment, thoo'll nivver gang oop if thou +bealst like a bargeist,' whispered the woman to a white-headed urchin +beside her, who seemed disposed for a roar.</p> + +<p>'I cares lile—nay, I dunn't,' muttered Jock, contumaciously; to Jock's +unregenerated mind the white robes and the palms seemed less tempting +than the shouts of his little companions outside. 'There's lile Geordie +and Dawson's Sue,' he grumbled, rubbing his eyes with his dirty fists.</p> + +<p>'Gang thee thy ways, or I'll fetch thee a skelp wi' my stick,' returned +the poor mother, weary of the discussion, and Jock scampered off, +nothing loth.</p> + +<p>Mildred sang her little hymn all through as the boy's head drooped +heavily on her shoulder; as she walked up and down, her dreamy eyes had +a far-off look in them, and yet nothing escaped her notice. She saw the +long rafter over her head, with the Sunday boots and shoes neatly +arranged on it, with bunches of faint-smelling herbs hanging below them; +the adjoining door was open, the large bare room, with its round table +and bedstead, and heaped up coals on the floor, was plainly visible to +her, as well as its lonely occupant darning black stockings in the +window.</p> + +<p>'After all, was she as lonely,' she thought, 'as Bett Hutchinson, who +lived by herself, with only a tabby cat for company, and kept her +coal-cellar in her bedroom? and yet, though Bett had weak eyes and weak +nerves, and was clean out of her wits on the subject of the boggle +family, from the "boggle with twa heeds" down to Jock's "bargheist ahint +the yat-stoop."'</p> + +<p>Bett's superstition was a household word with her neighbours, 'daft Bett +and her boggles' affording a mine of entertainment to the gossips of +Nateby. Mildred, and latterly Hugh Marsden, had endeavoured to reason +Bett out of her fancies, but it was no use. 'I saw summut—nay, nay, I +saw summut,' she always persisted. 'I was a'most daft—'twas t'boggle, +and nought else,' she murmured.</p> + +<p>Mildred was no weak girl, to go moaning about the world because her +heart must be emptied of its chief treasure. Bett's penurious loneliness +read her a salutary lesson; her own life, saddened as it was, grew rich +by comparison. '"If in mercy Thou wilt spare joys that yet are mine,"' +she whispered, as she laid the sleeping child down in the wooden cot and +spread the patched quilt lovingly over him.</p> + +<p>Jock grinned at her from behind an oyster-shell and mud erection; lile +Geordie and Dawson's Sue were with him. 'Aw've just yan hawpenny left,' +she heard him say as she passed.</p> + +<p>Mildred had finished the hardest day's work that she had ever done in +her life, but she knew that it was not yet over. Dr. Heriot was not one +to linger over a generous impulse; 'If it is worth doing at all, one +should do it at once,' was a favourite maxim of his.</p> + +<p>Mildred knew well what she had to expect. She was only thankful that the +summer's dusk allowed her to slip past the long French window that +always stood open. They were lighting the lamp already—some one, +probably Olive, had asked for it. A voice, that struck Mildred cold with +a sudden anguish, railed playfully against bookworms who could not +afford a blind-man's holiday.</p> + +<p>'He is here; of course I knew how it would be,' she murmured, as she +groped her way a little feebly up the stairs. She would have given much +for a quiet half-hour in her room, but it was not to be; the tapping +sound she dreaded already struck upon her ear, the crisp rustle of +garments in the passage, then the faint knock and timid entrance. 'I +knew it was Polly. Come in; do you want me, my dear?' the tired voice +striving bravely after cheerfulness.</p> + +<p>'Aunt Milly—oh, Aunt Milly!—I thought you would never come;' and in +the dark two soft little hands clasped her tight, and a burning face hid +itself in her neck. 'Oh,' with a sort of gasp, 'I have wanted my Aunt +Milly so badly!'</p> + +<p>Then the noble, womanly heart opened with a great rush of tenderness, +and took in the girl who had so unconsciously become a rival.</p> + +<p>'What is this, my pet—not tears, surely?' for Polly had laid her head +down, and was sobbing hysterically with excitement and relief.</p> + +<p>'I cannot help it. I was longing all the time for papa to know; and then +it was all so strange, and I thought you would never come. I shall be +more comfortable now,' sobbed Polly, with a girlish abandon of mingled +happiness and grief. 'Directly I heard your step outside the window I +made an excuse to get away to you.'</p> + +<p>'I ought not to have left you—it was wrong; but, no, it could not be +helped,' returned Mildred, in a low voice. She pressed the girl to her, +and stroked the soft hair with cold, trembling fingers. 'Are those happy +tears, my pet? Hush, you must not cry any more now.'</p> + +<p>'They do me good. I felt as though I were some one else downstairs, not +Polly at all. Oh, Aunt Milly, can you believe it?—do you think it is +all real?'</p> + +<p>'What is real? You have told me nothing yet, remember. Shall I guess, +Polly? Is it a great secret—a very great secret, my darling?'</p> + +<p>'Aunt Milly, as though you did not know, when he told me that you and he +had had a long talk about it yesterday!'</p> + +<p>'He—Dr. Heriot, I suppose you mean?'</p> + +<p>'He says I must call him something else now,' returned the girl in a +whisper, 'but I have told him I never shall. He will always be Dr. +Heriot to me—always. I don't like his other name, Aunt Milly; no one +does.'</p> + +<p>'John—I think it beautiful!' with a certain sharp pain in her voice. +She remembered how he had once owned to her that no one had called him +by this name since he was a boy. He had been christened John +Heriot—John Heriot Heriot—and his wife had always called him Heriot. +'Only my mother ever called me John,' he had said in a regretful tone, +and Mildred had softly repeated the name after him.</p> + +<p>'It has always been my favourite name,' she had owned with that +simplicity that was natural to her; and his eyes had glistened as though +he were well-pleased.</p> + +<p>'It is beautiful; it reminds one of St. John. I have always liked it,' +she said a little quickly.</p> + +<p>'His wife called him Heriot; yes, I know, he told me—but I am so young, +and he—well, he is not exactly old, Aunt Milly, but——'</p> + +<p>'Do you love him, Polly?—child, do you really love him?' and for a +moment Mildred put the girl from her with a sort of impatience and +irritation of suspense. Polly's pretty face was suffused with hot +blushes when she came back to her place again.</p> + +<p>'He asked me that question, and I told him yes. How can one help it, and +he so good? Aunt Milly, you have no idea how kind and gentle he was when +he saw he frightened me.'</p> + +<p>'Frightened you, my child?'</p> + +<p>'The strangeness of it all, I mean. I could not understand him for a +long time. He talked quite in his old way, and yet somehow he was +different; and all at once I found out what he meant.'</p> + +<p>'Well?'</p> + +<p>'And then I got frightened, I suppose. I thought how could I satisfy +him, and he so much older and cleverer. He is so immeasurably above all +my girlish silliness, and so I could not help crying a little.'</p> + +<p>'Poor little Polly! but he comforted you.'</p> + +<p>'Oh yes,' with more blushes, 'he talked to me so beautifully that I +could not be afraid any more. He said that for years this had been in +his mind, that he had never forgotten how I had wanted to live with him +and take care of him, and how he had always called me "his sweet little +heartsease" ever since. Oh, Aunt Milly, I know he wants me. It was so +sad to hear him talk about his loneliness.'</p> + +<p>'You will not let him be lonely any longer. I have lost my Polly, I +see.'</p> + +<p>'No, no, you must not say so,' throwing her arm round her, only with a +sort of bashful pride, very new in Polly; 'he has no one to take care of +him but me.'</p> + +<p>'Then he shall have our Sunbeam—God bless her!' and Mildred kissed her +proudly. 'I hope you did not tell him he was old, Polly.'</p> + +<p>'He asked me if I thought him so, and of course I said it was only I who +was too young.'</p> + +<p>'And what did he say to that?'</p> + +<p>'He laughed, and said it was a fault that I should soon mend, but that +he meant to be very proud as well as fond of his child-wife. Do you +know, he actually thinks me pretty, Aunt Milly.'</p> + +<p>'He is right; you are pretty—very pretty, Polly,' she repeated, +absently. She was saying in her own heart 'Dr. Heriot's wife—John +Heriot's child-wife'—over and over again.</p> + +<p>'Roy never would tell me so, because he said it would make me vain. Roy +will be glad about this, will he not, Aunt Milly?'</p> + +<p>'I do not know; nay, I hope so, my darling.'</p> + +<p>'And Richard, and all of them; they are so fond of Dr. Heriot. Do you +remember how often they have joked him about Heriot's Choice?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, I remember.'</p> + +<p>A sudden spasm crossed Mildred's gentle face, but she soon controlled +herself. She must get used to these sharp pangs, these recollections of +the happy, innocent past; she had misunderstood her friend, that was +all.</p> + +<p>'Dear Aunt Milly, make me worthier of his love,' whispered the girl, +with tears in her eyes; 'he is so noble, my benefactor, my almost +father, and now he is going to make me his wife, and I am so young and +childish.'</p> + +<p>And she clung to Mildred, quivering with vague irrepressible emotion.</p> + +<p>'Hush, you will be his sunbeam, as you have been ours. What did he call +you—his heartsease? You must keep that name, my pet.'</p> + +<p>'But—but you will teach me, he thinks so much of you; he says you are +the gentlest, and the wisest, and the dearest friend he has ever had. +Where are you going, Aunt Milly?' for Mildred had gently disengaged +herself from the girl's embrace.</p> + +<p>'Hush, we ought to go down; you must not keep me any longer, dear Polly; +he will expect—it is my duty to see him.'</p> + +<p>Mildred was adjusting her hair and dress with cold, shaking fingers, +while Polly stood by and shyly helped her.</p> + +<p>'It does not matter how you look,' the girl had said, with innocent +unconscious sarcasm; 'you are so tired, the tumbled gray alpaca will do +for to-night.'</p> + +<p>'No, it does not matter how I look,' replied Mildred, calmly.</p> + +<p>A colourless weary face and eyes, with an odd shine and light in them, +were reflected between the dimly-burning candles. Polly stood beside her +slim and conscious; she had dried her tears, and a sweet honest blush +mantled her young cheeks. The little foot tapped half impatiently on the +floor.</p> + +<p>'You have no ribbons or flowers, but perhaps after all it will not be +noticed,' she said, with pardonable egotism.</p> + +<p>'No, he will have only eyes for you to-night. Come, Polly, I am ready;' +and as the girl turned coy and seemed disposed to linger, Mildred +quietly turned to the door.</p> + +<p>'I thought I was to be dismissed without your saying good-night to me,' +was Dr. Heriot's greeting as he advanced to meet them. He was holding +Mildred's cold hand tightly, but his eyes rested on Polly's downcast +face as he spoke.</p> + +<p>'We ought to have come before, but I knew you would understand.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, I understand,' he returned, with an expression of proud +tenderness. 'You will give your child to me, Miss Lambert?'</p> + +<p>'She has always seemed to belong to you more than to me,' and then she +looked up at him for a moment with her old beautiful smile. 'I need not +ask you to be good to her—you are good to every one; but she is so +young, little more than a child.'</p> + +<p>'You may trust me,' he returned, putting his arm gently round the young +girl's shoulders; 'there shall not a hair of her head suffer harm if I +can prevent it. Polly is not afraid of me, is she?'</p> + +<p>'No,' replied Polly, shyly; but the bright eyes lifted themselves with +difficulty.</p> + +<p>She looked after him with a sort of perplexed pride, half-conscious, +half-confused, as he released her and bade them all good-night. When he +was gone she hovered round Mildred in the old childish way and seemed +unwilling to leave her.</p> + +<p>'I have done the right thing. Bless her sweet face. I know I shall make +her happy,' thought Dr. Heriot as he walked with rapid strides across +the market-place; 'a man cannot love twice in his life as I loved my +Margaret, but the peaceful affection such as I can give my darling will +satisfy her I know. If only Philip could see into my heart to-night I +think he would be comforted for his motherless child.' And then +again—'How sweetly Mildred Lambert looked at me to-night; she is a good +woman, there are few like her. Her face reminded me of some Madonna I +have seen in a foreign gallery as she stood with the girl clinging to +her. I wonder she has never married; these ministering women lead lonely +lives sometimes. Sometimes I have fancied she knew what it is to love, +and suffered. I thought so yesterday and again to-day, there was such a +ring of sadness in her voice. Perhaps he died, but one cannot +tell—women never reveal these things.'</p> + +<p>And so the benevolent heart sunned itself in pleasant dreams. The future +looked fair and peaceful, no brooding complications, no murky clouds +threatened the atmosphere, passion lay dormant, rest was the chief good +to be desired. Could benevolence play him false, could affection be +misplaced, would he ever come to own to himself that delusion had +cheated him, that husks and not bread had been given him to eat, that +his honest yearning heart had again betrayed him, that a kindly impulse, +a protecting tenderness, had blinded him to his true happiness?</p> + +<p>'How good he is,' thought the young girl as she laid her head on the +pillow; 'how dearly I must love him: I ought to love him. I never +imagined any one could be half so gentle. I wonder if Roy will be glad +when I tell him—oh yes, I wonder if Roy will be glad?'</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> + +<h3>'AND MAIDENS CALL IT LOVE-IN-IDLENESS'</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Is there within thy heart a need<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That mine cannot fulfil?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One chord that any other hand<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Could better wake or still?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Speak now, lest at some future day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My whole life wither and decay.'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Adelaide Anne Procter.</span><br /></span> +</div></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>The news of Dr. Heriot's engagement soon spread fast; he was amused, and +Polly half frightened, by the congratulations that poured upon them. Mr. +Trelawny, restored to something like good humour by the unexpected +tidings, made surly overtures of peace, which were received on Dr. +Heriot's part with his usual urbanity. The Squire imparted the news to +his daughter after his own ungracious fashion.</p> + +<p>'Do you hear Heriot's gone and made a fool of himself?' he said, as he +sat facing her at table; 'he has engaged himself to that ward of his; +why, he is twenty years older than the girl if he is a day!'</p> + +<p>'Papa, do you know what you are saying?' expostulated Ethel; the +audacity of the statement bewildered her; she would have scorned herself +for her credulity if she had believed him. Dr. Heriot—their Dr. Heriot! +No, she would not so malign his wisdom.</p> + +<p>The quiet scepticism of her manner excited Mr. Trelawny's wrath.</p> + +<p>'You women all set such store by Heriot,' he returned, sneeringly; +'everything he did was right in your eyes; you can't believe he would be +caught like other men by a pretty face, eh?'</p> + +<p>'No, I cannot believe it,' she returned, still firmly.</p> + +<p>'Then you may go into the town and hear it for yourself,' he continued, +taking up his paper with a pretence of indifference, but his keen eyes +still watched her from beneath it. Was it only her usual obstinacy, or +was she really incredulous of his tidings? 'I had it from Davidson, who +had congratulated the Doctor himself that morning,' he continued, +sullenly; 'he said he never saw him look better in his life; the girl +was with him.'</p> + +<p>'But not Polly—you cannot mean Polly Ellison?' and now Ethel turned +strangely white. 'Papa, there must be some mistake about it all. I—I +will go and see Mildred.'</p> + +<p>'You may spare yourself that trouble,' returned Mr. Trelawny, gloomily.</p> + +<p>Ethel's changing colour, her evident pain, were not lost upon him. +'There may be a chance for Cathcart still,' was his next thought; +'women's hearts as well as men are often caught at the rebound; she'll +have him out of pique—who knows?' and softened by this latter +reflection he threw down his paper, and continued almost graciously—</p> + +<p>'Yes, you may spare yourself that trouble, for I met Miss Lambert myself +this afternoon.'</p> + +<p>'And you spoke to her?' demanded Ethel, with almost trembling eagerness.</p> + +<p>'I spoke to her, of course; we had quite a long talk, till she said the +sun was in her eyes, and walked on. She seemed surprised that I had +heard the news already, said it was so like Kirkby Stephen gossip, but +corroborated it by owning that they were all as much in the dark as we +were; but Miss Ellison being such a child, no one had thought of such a +thing.'</p> + +<p>'Was that all she said? Did she look as well as usual? I have not seen +her for nearly a fortnight, you know,' answered Ethel, apologetically.</p> + +<p>'I can't say I noticed. Miss Lambert would be a nice-looking woman if +she did not dress so dowdily; but she looked worse than ever this +morning,' grumbled the Squire, who was a <i>connoisseur</i> in woman's dress, +and had eyed Mildred's brown hat and gray gingham with marked disfavour. +'She said the sun made her feel a little faint, and then she sent her +love to you and moved away. I think we might as well do the civil and +call at the vicarage this afternoon; we shall see the bride-elect +herself then,' and Ethel, who dared not refuse, agreed very unwillingly.</p> + +<p>The visit was a trying ordeal for every one concerned. Polly indeed +looked her prettiest, and blushed very becomingly over the Squire's +laboured compliments, though, to do him justice, they were less hollow +than usual; he was too well pleased at the match not to relapse a little +from his frigidity.</p> + +<p>'You must convince my daughter—she has chosen to be very sceptical,' he +said, with a side-long look at Ethel, who just moved her lips and +coloured slightly. She had kissed Polly in her ordinary manner, with no +special effusion, and added a quiet word or two, and then she had sat +down by Mildred.</p> + +<p>'Polly looks very pretty and very happy, does she not?' asked Mildred +after a time, lifting her quiet eyes to Ethel.</p> + +<p>'I beg your pardon—yes, she looks very nice,' returned Ethel, absently. +'I suppose I ought to say I am glad about this,' she continued with some +abruptness as Mildred took up her work again, and sewed with quick even +stitches, 'but I cannot; I am sorry, desperately sorry. She is a dear +little soul, I know, but all the same I think Dr. Heriot has acted +foolishly.'</p> + +<p>'My dear Ethel,—hush, they will hear you!' The busy fingers trembled a +little, but Mildred did not again raise her eyes.</p> + +<p>'I do not care who hears me; he is just like other men. I am +disappointed in him; I will have no Mentor now but you, Mildred.'</p> + +<p>'Dr. Heriot has done nothing to deserve your scorn,' returned Mildred, +but her cheek flushed a little. Did she know that instinctively Ethel +had guessed her secret, that her generous heart throbbed with sympathy +for a pain which, hidden as it was, was plainly legible to her +clear-sightedness? 'We ought all to be glad that he has found comfort at +last,' she said, a little unsteadily.</p> + +<p>Ethel darted a singular look at her, admiring, yet full of pain.</p> + +<p>'I am not so short-sighted as you. I am sorry for a good man's +mistake—for it is a mistake, whatever you may say, Mildred. Polly is +pretty and good, but she is not good enough for him. And then, he is +more than double her age!'</p> + +<p>'I thought that would be an additional virtue in your eyes,' returned +Mildred, pointedly. She was sufficiently mistress of herself and secure +enough in her quiet strength to be able to retaliate in a gentle womanly +way. Ethel coloured and changed her ground.</p> + +<p>'They have nothing in common. She is nice, but then she is not clever; +you know yourself that her abilities are not above the average, +Mildred.'</p> + +<p>'Dr. Heriot does not like clever women, he has often said so; Olive +would not suit him at all.'</p> + +<p>'I never thought of Olive,' in a piqued voice. Ethel was losing her +temper over Mildred's calmness. 'I am aware plain people are not to his +taste.'</p> + +<p>'No, Polly pleases him there; and then, she is so sweet.'</p> + +<p>'I should have thought him the last man to care for insipid sweetness,' +began Ethel, stormily, but Mildred stopped her with unusual warmth.</p> + +<p>'You are wrong there; there is nothing insipid about Polly; she is +bright, and good, and true-hearted; you undervalue his choice when you +say such things, Ethel. Polly's extreme youthfulness and gaiety of +spirits have misled you.'</p> + +<p>'How lovingly you defend your favourite, Mildred; you shall not hear +another word in her disparagement. What does he call her? Mary?'</p> + +<p>'No, Polly; but I believe he has plenty of pet names for her.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, he will pet her—ah, I understand, and I am not to scorn him. I am +not to call him foolish, Mildred?'</p> + +<p>'Of course not. Why should you?'</p> + +<p>'Ah, why should I? Papa, it is time for us to be going; you have talked +to Miss Ellison long enough. My pretty bird,' as Polly stole shyly up to +them, 'I have not wished you joy yet, but it is not always to be had for +the wishing.'</p> + +<p>'I wish every one would not be so kind,' stammered Polly. Mr. Trelawny's +condescension and elaborate compliments had almost overwhelmed the poor +little thing.</p> + +<p>'How the child blushes! I wonder you are not afraid of such a grave +Mentor, Polly.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, no, he is too kind for that—is he not, Aunt Milly?'</p> + +<p>'I hope you do not make Mildred the umpire,' replied Ethel, watching +them both. 'Oh these men!' she thought to herself, as she dropped the +girl's hand; her eyes grew suddenly dim as she stooped and kissed +Mildred's pale cheek. 'Good—there is no one worthy of you,' she said to +herself; 'he is not—he never will be now.'</p> + +<p>'People are almost too kind; I wish they would not come and talk to me +so,' Polly said, with one of her pretty pouts, as she walked with Dr. +Heriot that evening. He was a little shy of courting in public, and +loved better to have her with him in one of their quiet walks; this +evening he had come again to fetch her, and Mildred had given him some +instruction as to the length and duration of their walk.</p> + +<p>'Had you not better come with us?' he had said to her, as though he +meant it; but Mildred shook her head with a slight smile. 'We shall all +meet you at Ewbank Scar; it is better for you to have the child to +yourself for a little,' she had replied.</p> + +<p>Polly wished that Aunt Milly had come with them after all. Dearly as she +loved her kind guardian and friend, she was still a little shy of him; a +consciousness of girlish incompleteness, of undeveloped youth, haunted +her perpetually. Polly was sufficiently quick-witted to feel her own +deficiencies. How should she ever be able to satisfy him? she thought. +Aunt Milly could talk so beautifully to him, and even Olive had brief +spasms of eloquence. Polly felt sometimes as she listened to them as +though she were craning her neck to look over a wall at some unknown +territory with strange elevations and giddy depths, and wide bridgeless +rivers meandering through it.</p> + +<p>Suppositions, vague imaginations, oppressed her; Polly could talk +sensibly in a grave matter-of-fact way, and at times she had a pretty +<i>piquante</i> language of her own; but Chriss's erudition, and Olive's +philosophy, and even Mildred's gentle sermonising, were wearying to her. +'I can talk about what I have seen and what I have heard and read,' she +said once, 'but I cannot play at talk—make believe—as you grown-up +children do. I think it is hard,' continued practical Polly, 'that Aunt +Milly, who has seen nothing, and has been shut up in a sickroom all the +best years of her life, can spin yards of talk where I cannot say a +word.' But Dr. Heriot found no fault with his young companion; on the +contrary, Polly's <i>naļveté</i> and freshness were infinitely refreshing to +the weary man, who, as he told himself, had lived out the best years of +his life. He looked at her now as she uttered her childish complaint. +One little gloved hand rested on his arm, the other held up the long +skirts daintily, under the broad-brimmed hat a pretty oval face dimpled +and blushed with every word.</p> + +<p>'If people would only not be so kind—if they would let me alone,' she +grumbled.</p> + +<p>'That is a singular grievance, Polly,' returned Dr. Heriot, smiling; +'happiness ought not to make us selfish.'</p> + +<p>'That is what Aunt Milly says. Ah, how good she is!' sighed the girl, +enviously; 'almost a saint. I wish I were more like her.'</p> + +<p>'I am satisfied with Polly as she is, though she is no saint.'</p> + +<p>'No, are you really?' looking up at him brightly. 'Do you know, I have +been thinking a great deal since—you know when——' her colour giving +emphasis to her unfinished sentence.</p> + +<p>'Indeed? I should like to know some of those thoughts,' with a playful +glance at her downcast face. 'I must positively hear them, Polly. How +sweet and still it is this evening. Suppose we sit and rest ourselves +for a little while, and you shall tell me all about them.'</p> + +<p>Polly shook her head. 'They are not so easy to tell,' she said, looking +very shy all at once. Dr. Heriot had placed her on a stile at the head +of the little lane that skirted Podgill; the broad sunny meadow lay +before them, gemmed with trefoil and Polly's favourite eyebright; blue +gentian, and pink and white yarrow, and yellow ragwort, wove straggling +colours in the tangled hedgerows; the graceful campanula, with its +bell-like blossoms, gleamed here and there, towering above the lowlier +rose-campion, while meadow-sweet and trails of honeysuckle scented the +air.</p> + +<p>Dr. Heriot leant against the fence with folded arms; his mood was sunny +and benignant. In his gray suit and straw hat he looked young, almost +handsome. Under the dark moustache his lip curled with an amused, +undefinable smile.</p> + +<p>'I see you will want my help,' he said, with a sort of compassion and +amusement at her shyness. Whatever she might own, his little fearless +Polly was certainly afraid of him.</p> + +<p>'I have tangled them dreadfully,' blushed Polly; 'the thoughts, I mean. +Every night when I go to bed I wish—I wish I were as wise as Aunt +Milly, and then perhaps I should satisfy you.'</p> + +<p>'My dear child!' and then he stopped a little, amazed and perplexed. Why +was Mildred Lambert's goodness to be ever thrust on him, he thought, +with a man's natural impatience? He had not bent his neck to her mild +sway; her friendship was very precious to him—one of the good things +for which he daily thanked God; but this innocent harping on her name +fretted him with a vague sense of injury. 'Polly, who has put this in +your head?' he said; and there was a shadow of displeasure in his tone, +quiet as it was.</p> + +<p>'No one,' she returned, in surprise; 'the thought has often come to me. +Are you never afraid,' she continued, timidly, but her young face grew +all at once sweet and earnest—'are you not afraid that you will be +tired—dreadfully tired—when you have only me to whom to talk?'</p> + +<p>Then his gravity relaxed: the speech was so like Polly,—so like his +honest, simple-minded girl.</p> + +<p>'And what if I were?' he repeated, playing with her fears.</p> + +<p>'I should be so sorry,' she returned, seriously. 'No, I should be more +than sorry; I think it would make me unhappy. I should always be trying +to get older and wiser for your sake; and if I did not succeed I should +be ready to break my heart. No, do not smile,' as she caught a glimpse +of his amused face; 'I was never more serious in my life.'</p> + +<p>'Why, Mary, my little darling, what is this?' he said, lifting the +little hand to his lips; for the bright eyes were full of tears now.</p> + +<p>'No, call me Polly—I like that best,' she returned, hurriedly. 'Only my +father called me Mary; and from you——'</p> + +<p>'Well, what of me, little one?'</p> + +<p>'I do not know. It sounds so strange from your lips. It makes me feel +afraid, somehow, as though I were grown up and quite old. I like the +childish Polly best.'</p> + +<p>'You shall be obeyed, dear—literally and entirely, I mean;' for he saw +her agitation needed soothing. 'But Polly is not quite herself to-night; +these fears and scruples are not like her. Let me hear all these +troublesome thoughts, dearest; you know I am a safe confidant.' And +encouraged by the gentleness of his tone, Polly crept close into the +shelter of the kind arm that had been thrown round her.</p> + +<p>'I don't think it hurts one to have fears,' she said, in her simple way; +'they seem to grow out of one's very happiness. You must not mind if I +am afraid at times that I shall not always please you; it will only be +because I want to do it so much.'</p> + +<p>'There, you wound and heal in one breath,' he replied, half-laughing, +and half-touched.</p> + +<p>'It has come into my mind more than once that when we are alone +together; when I come to take care of you; you know what I mean.'</p> + +<p>'When you are my own sweet wife—I understand, Polly;' and now nothing +could exceed the grave tenderness of his voice.</p> + +<p>'Yes, when you bring me home to the fireside, which you say has been so +lonely,' she returned, with touching frankness, at once childlike and +womanly. 'When you have no one but me to comfort you, what if you find +out too late that I am so young—so very young—that I have not all you +want?'</p> + +<p>'Polly—my own Polly!'</p> + +<p>'Ah, you may call me that, and yet the disappointment may be bitter. You +have been so good to me, I love you so dearly, that I could not bear to +see a shade on your face, young as I am. I do not feel like a child +about this.'</p> + +<p>'No, you are not a child,' he returned, looking at her with new +reverence in his eyes. In her earnestness she had forgotten her girlish +shyness; her hands were clasped fearlessly on his arm, truth was written +on her guileless face, her words rang in his ear with mingled pathos and +purity.</p> + +<p>'No, you are not a child,' he repeated, and then he stopped all of a +sudden; his wooing had grown difficult to him. He had never liked her so +well, he had never regarded her with such proud fondness, as now, when +she pleaded with him for toleration of her undeveloped youth. For one +swift instant a consciousness of the truth of her words struck home to +him with a keen sense of pain, marring the pleasant harmony of his +dream; but when, he looked at her again it was gone.</p> + +<p>And yet how was he to answer her? It was not petting fondness she +wanted—not even ordinary love-speeches—only rest from an uneasy fear +that harassed her repose—an assurance, mute or otherwise, that she was +sufficient for his peace. If he understood her aright, this was what she +wanted.</p> + +<p>'Polly, I do not think you need to be afraid,' he said at last, +hesitating strangely over his words. 'I understand you, my darling; I +know what you mean; but I do not think you need be afraid.'</p> + +<p>'Ah, if I could only feel that!' she whispered.</p> + +<p>'I will make you feel it; listen to me, dear. We men are odd, +unaccountable beings; we have moods, our work worries us, we have tired +fits now and then, nothing is right, all is vanity of vanity, disgust, +want of success, blurred outlines, opaque mist everywhere—then it is I +shall want my little comforter. You will be my veritable Sunbeam then.'</p> + +<p>'But if I fail you?'</p> + +<p>'Hush, you will never fail me. What heresy, what disbelief in a wife's +first duty! Do you know, Polly, it is just three years since I first +dreamt of the beneficent fairy who was to rise up beside my hearth.'</p> + +<p>'You thought of me three years ago?'</p> + +<p>'Thought of you? No, dreamt of you, fairy. You know you came to me first +in a ladder of motes and beams. Don't you remember Dad Fabian's attic, +and the picture of Cain, and the strange guardian coming in through the +low doorway?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, I remember; you startled me.'</p> + +<p>'Polly is a hundred times prettier now; but I can recognise still in you +the slim creature in the rusty black frock, with thin arms, and large +dark eyes, drinking in the sunlight. It was such a forlorn Polly then.'</p> + +<p>'And then you were good to me.'</p> + +<p>'I am afraid I must have seemed stern to you, poor child, repelling your +young impulse in such a manner. I remember, while you were pleading in +your innocent fashion, and Miss Lambert was smiling at you, that a +curious fancy came into my head. Something hardly human seemed to +whisper to me, "John Heriot, after all, you may have found a little +comforter."'</p> + +<p>'I am so glad. I mean that you have thought of me for such a time.' +Polly was dimpling again; the old happy light had come back to her eyes.</p> + +<p>'You see it is no new idea. I have watched my Polly growing sweeter and +brighter day by day. How often you have confided in me; how often I have +shared your innocent thoughts. You were not afraid to show me affection +then.'</p> + +<p>'I am not now,' she stammered.</p> + +<p>'Perhaps not now, my bright-eyed bird; you have borrowed courage and +eloquence for the occasion, inciting me to all manner of lover-like and +foolish speeches. What do you say, little one—do you think I play the +lover so badly, after all?'</p> + +<p>'Yes—no—it does not suit you, somehow,' faltered Polly, truthful +still.</p> + +<p>'What, am I too old?' but Dr. Heriot's tone was piqued in spite of its +assumed raillery.</p> + +<p>'No, you know you are not; but I like the old ways and manners best. +When you talk like this I get shy and stupid, and do not feel like Polly +at all.'</p> + +<p>'You are the dearest and sweetest Polly in the world,' he returned, with +a low, satisfied laugh; 'the most delightful combination of quaintness +and simplicity. I wonder what wise Aunt Milly would say if she heard +you.'</p> + +<p>'That reminds me that she will be expecting us,' returned Polly, +springing off the stile without waiting for his hand. She had shaken off +her serious mood, and chatted gaily as they hurried along the upper +woodland path; her hands were full of roses and great clusters of +campanula by the time they reached Mildred, who was sitting on a little +knoll that overlooked the Scar. In winter-time the beck rushed noisily +down the high rocky face of the cliff, but now the long drought had +dried up its sources, and with the exception of a few still pools the +riverbed was dry.</p> + +<p>Mildred sat with her elbow on her knee, looking dreamily at the gray +scarped rock and overhanging vegetation; while Olive and Chriss +scrambled over the slippery boulders in search of ferns. Behind the dark +woods the sunset clouds were flaming with breadths of crimson and yellow +glory. Over the barren rocks a tiny crescent moon was rising; Mildred's +eyes were riveted on it.</p> + +<p>'We have found some butterwort and kingcups; Dr. Heriot declares it is +the same that Shakespeare calls "Winking Mary-buds." You must add it to +your wild-flower collection, Aunt Milly.'</p> + +<p>'Are you tired of waiting for us, Miss Lambert? Polly has been giving me +some trouble, and I have had to lecture her.'</p> + +<p>'Not very severely, I expect,' returned Mildred. She looked anxiously +from one to another, but Polly's gaiety reassured her as she flung a +handful of flowers into her lap, and then proceeded to sort and arrange +them.</p> + +<p>'You might give us Perdita's pretty speech, Polly,' said Dr. Heriot, who +leant against a young thorn watching her.</p> + +<p>Polly gave a mischievous little laugh. She remembered the quotation; Roy +had so often repeated it. He would spout pages of Shakespeare as they +walked through the wintry woods. 'You have brought it upon yourself,' +she cried, holding up to him a long festoon of gaudy weeds, and +repeating the lines in her fresh young voice.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Here's flowers for you!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hot lavender, mints, savory, marjoram;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The marigold, that goes to bed with the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with him rises weeping: these are flowers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of middle summer, and I think they are given<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To men of middle age. You are very welcome.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>'Oh, Polly—Polly—fie!'</p> + +<p>'Little Heartsease, do you know what you deserve?' but Dr. Heriot +evidently enjoyed the mischief. 'After all, I brought it on myself. I +believe I was thinking of the crazy Danish maid, Ophelia, all the time.'</p> + +<p>'You have had your turn,' answered Polly, with her prettiest pout; 'my +next shall be for Aunt Milly. I am afraid I don't look much like +Ophelia, though. There, Aunt Milly—there's rosemary, that's for +remembrance—pray you, love, remember; and there is pansies, that's for +thoughts.'</p> + +<p>'Make them as gay as your own, Heartsease;' then—</p> + +<p>'Hush, don't interrupt me; I am making Aunt Milly shiver. "There's +fennel for you and columbines; there's rue for you, and here's some for +me. We may call it herb of grace o' Sundays. You may wear your rue with +a difference."'</p> + +<p>'You are offering me a sorry garland;' and Mildred forced a smile over +the girl's quaint conceit. 'Mints, savory, marjoram, all the homeliest +herbs you could find in your garden. I shall not forget the compliment +to my middle age,' grumbled Dr. Heriot, who was unusually tickled at the +goodness of the <i>repartee</i> Polly was never so thoroughly at her ease as +when she was under Aunt Milly's wing. Just then Mildred rose to recall +Olive and Chriss; as she went down the woody hillock a quick contraction +of pain furrowed her brow.</p> + +<p>'There's rue for you,' she said to herself; 'ah, and rosemary, that's +for remembrance. Oh, Polly, I felt tempted to use old Polonius's words, +and say, "there's a method in madness"; how little you know the true +word spoken in jest; never mind, if I can only take it as "my herb of +grace o' Sundays," it will be well yet.'</p> + +<p>Mildred found herself monopolised by Chriss during their homeward walk. +Polly and Dr. Heriot were in front, and Olive, as was often her custom, +lingering far behind.</p> + +<p>'Let them go on, Aunt Milly,' whispered Chriss; 'lovers are dreadfully +poor company to every one but themselves. Polly will be no good at all +now she is engaged.'</p> + +<p>'What do you know about lovers, a little girl like you?' returned +Mildred, amused in spite of herself.</p> + +<p>'I am not a little girl, I am nearly sixteen,' replied Chriss, +indignantly. 'Romeo and Juliet were all very well, and so were Ferdinand +and Miranda, but in real life it is so stupid. I have made up my mind +that I shall never marry.'</p> + +<p>'Wait until you are asked, puss.'</p> + +<p>'Ah, as to that,' returned the young philosopher, calmly, 'as Dr. John +says, it takes all sorts of people to make up a world, and I daresay +some one will be found who does not object to eye-glasses.'</p> + +<p>'Or to blue stockings,' observed Mildred, rather slyly.</p> + +<p>'You forget we live in enlightened days,' remarked Chriss, +sententiously; 'this sort of ideas belonged to the Dark Ages. Minds are +not buried alive now because they happen to be born in the feminine +gender,' continued Chriss, with a slight confusion of metaphor.</p> + +<p>Mildred smiled. Chriss's odd talk distracted her from sad thoughts. The +winding path had already hidden the lovers from her; unconsciously she +slackened her pace.</p> + +<p>'I should not mind a nice gray professor, perhaps, if he knew lots of +languages, and didn't take snuff. But they all do; it clears the brain, +and is a salutary irritant,' went on Chriss, who had only seen one +professor in her life, and that one a very dingy specimen. 'I should +like my professor to be old and sensible, and not young and silly, and +he must not care about eating and drinking, or expect me to sew on his +buttons, or mend his gloves. Some one ought to invent a mending-machine. +I am sure these things take away half the pleasure of living.'</p> + +<p>'My little Chriss, do you mean to be head without hands? You will be a +very imperfect woman, I am afraid, and I hope in that case you will not +find your professor.'</p> + +<p>'I would rather be without him, after all,' replied Chriss, +discontentedly. 'Men are so stupid; they want their own way, and every +one has to give in to them. I would rather live in lodgings like Roy, +somewhere near the British Museum, where I could go and read every day, +and in the evening I would go to lectures and concerts, or stop at home +and play with Fritter-my-wig: that is just the sort of life I should +like, Aunt Milly.'</p> + +<p>'What is to become of your father and me? Perhaps Olive may marry.'</p> + +<p>'Olive? not a bit of it. She always says nothing would induce her to +leave papa. You don't want me to stop all my life in this little corner +of the world, where everything is behind the times, and there is not a +creature to whom one cares to speak?'</p> + +<p>'Chriss, Chriss, what a Radical you are,' returned Mildred. She was a +little weary of Chriss's childish chatter. They were in the deep lane +skirting Podgill now; just beyond the footbridge Polly and Dr. Heriot +were standing waiting for them.</p> + +<p>'Is the tangle all gone?' he asked presently. 'Are you quite happy +again, Heartsease?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, very happy,' she assured him, with a bright smile, and he felt a +pressure of the hand that rested on his arm.</p> + +<p>'What a darling she is,' he thought to himself somewhat later that +night, as he walked across the market-place, now shining in the +moonlight 'Little witch, how prettily she acted that speech of Perdita, +her eyes imploring forgiveness all the time for her mischief. The child +has deep feelings too. Once or twice she made me feel oddly. But I need +not fear; she will make a sweet wife, I know, my innocent Polly.'</p> + +<p>But the little scene haunted his fancy, and he had an odd dream about it +that night. He thought that they were in the grassy knoll again looking +over the Scar, and that some one pushed some withered herbs into his +hands. 'Here's rue for you, and there's some for me; you may wear your +rue with a difference,' said a voice.</p> + +<p>'Unkind Polly!' he returned, dropping them, and stretched out his arms +to imprison the culprit; but Polly was not there, only Mildred Lambert +was there, with her elbow on her knee, looking sadly over the Scar.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> + +<h3>THE DESERTED COTTON-MILL IN HILBECK GLEN</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hey the green ribbon! we kneeled beside it,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We parted the grasses dewy and sheen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drop over drop, there filtered and slided<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A tiny bright beck that trickled between.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tinkle, tinkle, sweetly it sung to us,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Light was our talk as of faėry bells—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Faėry wedding-bells faintly rung to us<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Down in their fortunate parallels.—<span class="smcap">Jean Ingelow.</span><br /></span> +</div></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>Richard came home for a few days towards the end of the long vacation. +He was looking pale and thin in spite of his enforced cheerfulness, and +it was easy to see that the inaction of the last few weeks had only +induced restlessness, and a strong desire for hard, grinding work, as a +sedative for mental unrest. His brotherly congratulations to Polly were +mixed with secret amusement.</p> + +<p>'So you are "Heriot's choice," are you, Polly?' he said, taking her hand +kindly, and looking at the happy, blushing face.</p> + +<p>'Are you glad, Richard?' she whispered, shyly.</p> + +<p>'I can hardly tell,' he returned, with a curiously perplexed expression. +'I believe overwhelming surprise was my first sensation on hearing the +wonderful intelligence. I gave such an exclamation that Roy turned quite +pale, and thought something had happened at home, and then he got in a +temper, and carried off the letter to read by himself; he would have it +I was chaffing him.'</p> + +<p>Polly pouted half-seriously. 'You are not a bit nice to me, Richard, or +Roy either. Why has he never written to me himself? He must have got my +two letters.'</p> + +<p>'You forget; I have never seen anything of him for the last six weeks. +Fancy my finding him off on the tramp when I returned that night, +prosecuting one of his art pilgrimages, as he calls them, to some shrine +of beauty or other. He had not even the grace to apologise for his base +desertion till a week afterwards. However, Frognal without Rex was not +to be borne; so I started off to Cornwall in search of our reading +party, and then got inveigled by Oxenham, who carried me off to +Ilfracombe.'</p> + +<p>'It was very wrong of Rex to leave you; he is not generally so +thoughtless,' returned Polly, who had been secretly chagrined by this +neglect on the part of her old favourite. 'Is there no letter from Rex?' +had been a daily question for weeks.</p> + +<p>'Rex is a regular Bohemian since he took to wearing a moustache and a +velvet coat. All the Hampstead young ladies are breaking their hearts +over him. He looks so handsome and picturesque; if he would only cut his +hair shorter, and open his sleepy eyes, I should admire him myself.'</p> + +<p>Polly sighed.</p> + +<p>'I wish he would come home, dear old fellow. I long to see him; but I am +dreadfully angry with him, all the same; he ought to have written to Dr. +Heriot, if not to me. It is disrespectful—unkind—not like Rex at all.' +And Polly's bright eyes swam with tears of genuine resentment.</p> + +<p>'I shall tell Roy how you take his unkindness to heart.'</p> + +<p>She shook her head.</p> + +<p>'It is very ungrateful of him, to say the least of it. You have spoiled +him, Polly.'</p> + +<p>'No,' she returned, very gravely. 'Rex is too good to be spoiled: he +must have some reason for his silence. If he had told me he was going to +be married—to—to any of those young ladies you mention, I would have +gone to London to see his wife. I know,' she continued, softly, 'Rex was +fonder of me than he was of Olive and Chriss. I was just like a +favourite sister, and I always felt as though he were my own—own +brother. Why there is nothing that I would not do for Rex.'</p> + +<p>'Dear Polly, we all know that; you have been the truest little sister to +him, and to us all.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, and then for him to treat me like this—to be silent six whole +weeks. Perhaps he did not like Aunt Milly writing. Perhaps he thought I +ought to have written to him myself; and I have since—two long +letters.'</p> + +<p>'Dr. Heriot will be angry with Rex if he sees you fretting.'</p> + +<p>'I am not fretting; I never fret,' she returned, indignantly; 'as though +that foolish boy deserved it. I am happier than I can tell you. Oh, +Richard, is he not good?'</p> + +<p>And there was no mistaking the sweet earnestness with which she spoke of +her future husband.</p> + +<p>'Ah, that he is.'</p> + +<p>'How grave you look, Richard! Are you really glad—really and truly, I +mean?'</p> + +<p>'Why, Polly, what a little Jesuit you are, diving into people's secret +thoughts in this way.' And there was a shadow of embarrassment in +Richard's cordial manner. 'Of course I am glad that you should be happy, +dear, and not less so that Dr. John's solitary days are over.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, but you don't think me worthy of him,' she returned, plaintively, +and yet shrewdly.</p> + +<p>'I don't think you really grown up, you mean; you wear long dresses, you +are quite a fashionable young lady now, but to me you always seem little +Polly.'</p> + +<p>'Rude boy,' she returned, with a charming pout, 'one would think you had +gray hairs, to listen to you. I can't be so very young or so very silly, +or he would not have chosen me, you know.'</p> + +<p>'I suppose you have bewitched him,' returned Richard, smiling; but Polly +refused to hear any more and ran away laughing.</p> + +<p>Richard's face clouded over his thoughts when he was left alone. +Whatever they were he kept them locked in his own breast; during the few +days he remained at home, he was observant of all that passed under his +eyes, and there was a deferential tenderness in his manner to Mildred +that somewhat surprised her; but neither to her nor to any other person +did he hint that he was disappointed by Dr. Heriot's choice.</p> + +<p>During the first day there had been no mention of Kirkleatham or Ethel +Trelawny, but on the second day Richard had himself broken the ice by +suggesting that Mildred should contrive some errand that should take her +thither, and that in the course of her visit she should mention his +arrival at the vicarage.</p> + +<p>'I must think of her, Aunt Milly; we are neither of us ready to undergo +the awkwardness of a first meeting. Perhaps in a few months things may +go on much as usual. I always meant to write to her before my +ordination. Tell her that I shall only be here for a few days—that +Polly wants me to wait over her birthday, but that I have no intention +of intruding on her.'</p> + +<p>'Are you so sure she will regard it as an intrusion?' asked Mildred, +quietly.</p> + +<p>'There is no need to debate the question,' was the somewhat hasty reply. +'I must not deviate from the rule I have laid down for myself, to see as +little as possible of her until after my ordination.'</p> + +<p>'And that will be at Whitsuntide?'</p> + +<p>'Yes,' he returned, with an involuntary sigh; 'so, Aunt Milly, you will +promise to go after dinner?'</p> + +<p>Mildred promised, but fate was against her. Olive and Polly had driven +over to Appleby with Dr. Heriot, and relays of callers detained her +unwillingly all the afternoon; she saw Richard was secretly chafing, as +he helped her to entertain them with the small talk usual on such +occasions. He was just bidding a cheerful good-bye to Mrs. Heath and her +sister, when horses' hoofs rung on the beck gravel of the courtyard, and +Ethel rode up to the door, followed by her groom.</p> + +<p>Mildred grew pale from sympathy when she saw Richard's face, but there +was no help for it now; she saw Ethel start and flush, and then quietly +put aside his assistance, and spring lightly to the ground; but she +looked almost as white as Richard himself when she came into the room, +and not all her dignity could hide that she was trembling.</p> + +<p>'I did not know, I thought you were alone,' she faltered, as Mildred +kissed her; but Richard caught the whisper.</p> + +<p>'You shall be alone if you wish it,' he returned, trying to speak in his +ordinary manner, but failing miserably.</p> + +<p>Poor lad, this unexpected meeting with his idol was too much even for +his endurance. 'I was not prepared for it,' as he said afterwards. He +thought she looked sweeter than ever under the influence of that girlish +embarrassment. He watched her anxiously as she stood still holding +Mildred's hand.</p> + +<p>'You shall not be made uncomfortable, Miss Trelawny; it is my fault, not +yours, that I am here. I told Aunt Milly to prevent this awkwardness. I +will go, and then you two will be alone together;' and he was turning to +the door, but Ethel's good heart prompted her to speak, and prevented +months of estrangement.</p> + +<p>'Why should you go, Richard? this is your home, not mine; Mildred, ask +him not to do anything so strange—so unkind.'</p> + +<p>'But if my presence embarrasses you?' he returned, with an impetuous +Cœur-de-Lion look that made Ethel blush.</p> + +<p>She could not answer.</p> + +<p>'It will not do so if you sit down and be like yourself,' said Mildred, +pleadingly. She looked at the two young creatures with half-pitying, +half-amused eyes. Richard's outraged boyish dignity and Ethel's yearning +overture of peace to her old favourite—it was beautiful and yet sad to +watch them, she thought. 'Richard, will you ring that bell, please?' +continued the wary woman; 'Ethel has come for her afternoon cup of tea, +and she does not like to be kept waiting. Tell Etta to be quick, and +fetch some of her favourite seed-cake from the dining-room sideboard.'</p> + +<p>Mildred's common sense was rarely at fault; to be matter-of-fact at such +a crisis was invaluable. It restored Richard's calmness as nothing else +could have done; it gave him five minutes' grace, during which he hunted +for the cake and his mislaid coolness together; that neither could be +found at once mattered little. Richard's overcharged feelings had safe +vent in scolding Etta and creating commotion and hubbub in the kitchen, +where the young master's behests were laws fashioned after the Mede and +Persian type.</p> + +<p>When he re-entered the room Mildred knew she could trust him. He found +Ethel sitting by the open window with her hat and gauntlets off, +enjoying the tea Mildred had provided. He carried the cake gravely to +her, as though it were a mission of importance, and Ethel, who could not +have swallowed a mouthful to save her life, thanked him with a sweet +smile and crumbled the fragments on her plate.</p> + +<p>By and by Mildred was called away on business. She obeyed reluctantly +when she saw Ethel's appealing look.</p> + +<p>'I shall only be away a few minutes. Give her some more tea, Richard,' +she said as she closed the door.</p> + +<p>Richard did as he was bid; but either his hand shook or Ethel's, though +neither owned to the impeachment, and the cup slipped, and some of the +hot liquid was spilt on the blue cloth habit.</p> + +<p>The laugh that followed was a very healing one. Richard was on his knees +trying to undo the mischief and blaming himself in no measured terms for +his awkwardness. When he saw the sparkle in Ethel's eye his brow cleared +like magic.</p> + +<p>'You are not angry with me, then?'</p> + +<p>'Angry with you! What an idea, Richard; such a trifling accident as +that. Why it has not even hurt the cloth.'</p> + +<p>'No, but it has scalded your hand; let me look.' And as Ethel tried to +hide it he held it firmly in his own.</p> + +<p>'You see it is nothing, hardly a red spot!' but he did not let it go.</p> + +<p>'Ethel, will you promise me one thing? No, don't draw your hand away, I +shall say nothing to frighten you. I was a fool just now, but then one +is a fool sometimes when one comes suddenly upon the woman one loves. +But will you promise not to shun me again, not as though you hated me, I +mean?'</p> + +<p>'Hated you! For shame, Richard.'</p> + +<p>'Well, then, as though you were afraid of me. You disdained my +assistance just now, you would not let me lift you from your horse. How +often have I done so before, and you never repulsed me!'</p> + +<p>'You ought not to have noticed it, you ought to have understood,' +returned Ethel, with quivering lips. It was very sweet to be talking to +him again if only he would not encroach on his privilege.</p> + +<p>'Then let things be between us as they always have been,' he pleaded. 'I +have done nothing to forfeit your friendship, have I? I have humbled +myself, not you,' with a flavour of bitterness which she could not find +it in her heart to resent. 'Let me see you sitting here sometimes in my +father's house; such a sight will go far to soothe me. Shall it be so, +Ethel?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, if you wish it,' she returned, almost humbly.</p> + +<p>Her only thought was how she should comfort him. Her womanly eyes read +signs of conflict and suffering in the pale, wan face; when she had +assented, he relinquished her hand with a mute clasp of thanks. He +looked almost himself when Mildred came back, apologising for her long +delay. Had she really been gone half-an-hour—neither of them knew it. +Ethel looked soothed, tranquillised, almost happy, and Richard not +graver than his wont.</p> + +<p>Mildred was relieved to find things on this agreeable footing, but she +was not a little surprised when two days afterwards Richard announced +his intention of going up to Kirkleatham, and begged her to accompany +him.</p> + +<p>'I will promise not to make a fool of myself again; you shall see how +well I shall behave,' he said, anticipating her remonstrance. 'Don't +raise any objection, please, Aunt Milly. I have thought it all over, and +I believe I am acting for the best,' and of course Richard had his way.</p> + +<p>Ethel's varying colour when she met them testified to her surprise, and +for a little while her manner was painfully constrained, but it could +not long remain so. Richard seemed determined that she should be at her +ease with him. He talked well and freely, only avoiding with the nicest +tact any subject that might recall the conversation in the kitchen +garden.</p> + +<p>Mildred sat by in secret admiration and wonder; the simple woman could +make nothing of the young diplomatist. That Richard could talk well on +grave subjects was no novelty to her; but never had he proved himself so +eloquent; rather terse than fluent, addicted more to correctness than +wit, he now ranged lightly over a breadth of subjects, touching +gracefully on points on which he knew them to be both interested, with +an admirable choice of words that pleased even Ethel's fastidiousness.</p> + +<p>Mildred saw that her attention was first attracted, and then that she +was insensibly drawn to answer him. She seemed less embarrassed, the old +enthusiasm woke. She contradicted him once in her old way, he maintained +his opinion with warm persistence;—they disagreed. They were still in +the height of the argument when Mildred looked at her watch and said +they must be going.</p> + +<p>It was Ethel's turn now to proffer hospitality, but to her surprise +Richard quietly refused it. He would come again and bid her good-bye, he +said gravely, holding her hand; he hoped then that Mr. Trelawny would be +at home.</p> + +<p>His manner seemed to trouble Ethel. She had stretched out her hand for +her garden-hat. It had always been a custom with her to walk down the +croft with Mildred, but now she apparently changed her mind, for she +replaced it on the peg.</p> + +<p>'You are right,' said Richard, quietly, as he watched this little +by-play, 'it is far too hot in the crofts, and to-day Aunt Milly has my +escort. Old customs are sometimes a bore even to a thorough conservative +such as you, Miss Trelawny.'</p> + +<p>'I will show you that you are wrong,' returned Ethel, with unusual +warmth, as the broad-brimmed hat was in her hand again. There was a +pin-point of sarcasm under Richard's smooth speech that grazed her +susceptibility.</p> + +<p>Perhaps Richard had gained his end, for an odd smile played round his +mouth as he walked beside her. He did not seem to notice that she did +not address him again, but confined her attention to Mildred. Her cheeks +were very pink, possibly from the heat, when she parted from them at the +gate, and Richard got only a very fleeting pressure of the hand.</p> + +<p>'Richard, I do not know whether to admire or to be afraid of you,' said +Mildred, half in jest, as they crossed the road.</p> + +<p>A flash of intelligence answered her.</p> + +<p>'Did I behave well? It is weary work. Aunt Milly; it will make an old +man of me before my time, but she shall reverence me yet,' and his mouth +closed with the old determined look she knew so well.</p> + +<p>Dr. Heriot had planned a picnic to Hillbeck in honour of Polly's +eighteenth birthday, the vicarage party and Mr. Marsden being the only +guests.</p> + +<p>Hillbeck Wood was a very favourite place of resort on hot summer days. +To-day dinner was to be spread in the deep little glen lying behind an +old disused cotton-mill, a large dilapidated building that Polly always +declared must be haunted, and to please this fancy of hers Dr. Heriot +had once fabricated a weird plot of a story which was so charmingly +terrible, as Chriss phrased it, that the girls declared nothing would +induce them to remain in the glen after sundown.</p> + +<p>There was certainly something weird and awesome in the very silence and +neglect of the place, but the glen behind it was a lovely spot. The +hillsides were thickly wooded; through the bottom of the glen ran a +sparkling little beck; the rich colours of the foliage, wearing now the +golden and red livery of autumn, were warm and harmonious; while a +cloudless sky and a soft September air brightened the scene of +enjoyment.</p> + +<p>Mildred, who, as usual on such occasions, was doomed to rest and +inaction, amused herself with collecting a specimen of ruta muraria for +her fernery, while Polly and Chriss washed salad in the running stream, +and Richard and Hugh Marsden unpacked the hampers, and Olive spread the +tempting contents on dishes tastefully adorned with leaves and flowers +under Dr. Heriot's supervision, while Mr. Lambert sat by, an amused +spectator of the whole.</p> + +<p>There was plenty of innocent gaiety over the little feast. Hugh +Marsden's blunders and large-handed awkwardness were always provocative +of mirth, and he took all in such good part. Polly and Chriss waited on +everybody, and even washed the plates in the beck, Polly tucking up her +fresh blue cambric and showing her little high-heeled shoes as she +tripped over the grass.</p> + +<p>When the meal was over the gentlemen seemed inclined to linger in the +pleasant shade; Chriss was coaxing Dr. Heriot for a story, but he was +too lazy to comply, and only roused himself to listen to Richard and +Hugh Marsden, who had got on the subject of clerical work and the +difficulty of contesting northern prejudice.</p> + +<p>'Their ignorance and hard-headedness are lamentable,' groaned Hugh; +'dissent has a terrible hold over their mind; but to judge from a few of +the stories Mr. Delaware tells us, things are better than they were.'</p> + +<p>'My father met with a curious instance of this crass ignorance on the +part of one of his parishioners about fifteen years ago,' returned +Richard. 'I have heard him relate it so often. You remember old W——, +father?'</p> + +<p>'I am not likely to forget him,' replied Mr. Lambert, smiling. 'It was a +very pitiful case to my mind, though one cannot forbear a smile at the +quaintness of his notion. Heriot has often heard me refer to it.'</p> + +<p>'We must have it for Marsden's benefit then.'</p> + +<p>'I think Richard was right in saying that it was about fifteen years ago +that I was called to minister to an old man in his eighty-sixth year, +who had been blind from his birth, I believe, and was then on his +deathbed. I read to him, prayed for him, and talked to him; but though +his lips moved I did not seem to gain his attention. At last, in +despair, I said good-afternoon, and rose to go, but he suddenly caught +hold of me.</p> + +<p>'"Stop ye, parson," he said; "stop ye a bit, an' just hear me say my +prayers, will ye?" I thought it a singular request, but I remained, and +he began repeating the Lord's Prayer, the Creed, the collect "Lighten +our darkness," and finished up with the quaint old couplet beginning—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bless the bed that I lie on,"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>and after he had finished he said triumphantly, "Hoo d'ye think I've +deean?" I said, "em gay weel. D'ye think I'll pass?"</p> + +<p>'Of course I said something appropriate in reply; but his attention +seemed wholly fixed on the fact that he could say his prayers correctly, +as he had been probably taught in his early childhood, and when I had +noticed his lips moving he had been conning the prayers over to himself +before repeating them for my judgment.'<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a></p> + +<p>A lugubrious shake of the head was Hugh's only answer.</p> + +<p>'I grant you such a state of things seems almost incredible in our +enlightened nineteenth century,' continued Mr. Lambert, 'but many of my +older brethren have curious stories to tell of their parishioners, all +of them rather amusing than otherwise. Your predecessor, Heriot—Dr. +Bailey—had a rare stock of racy anecdotes, with which he used to +entertain us on winter evenings over a glass of hot whisky toddy.'</p> + +<p>'To which he was slightly too much addicted,' observed Dr. Heriot.</p> + +<p>'Well, well, we all have our faults,' replied the vicar, charitably. 'We +will not speak against poor Bailey, who was in the main a downright +honest fellow, though he was not without his weakness. Betha used to +remonstrate with him sometimes, but it was no use; he said he was too +old to break off a habit. I don't think, Heriot, he ever went to great +lengths.'</p> + +<p>'Possibly not,' was the somewhat dry reply, 'but we are willing to be +amused by the old doctor's reminiscences.'</p> + +<p>'You know the old Westmorland custom for giving names; well, some forty +years ago George Bailey, then a young doctor new to practice, was sent +for to visit a man named John Atkinson, who lived in a house at the head +of Swale-dale.</p> + +<p>'Having reached the place, he knocked at the door, and asked if John +Atkinson lived there.</p> + +<p>'"Nay," says the woman, "we've naebody ev that nyam hereaboots."</p> + +<p>'"What?" says Bailey, "nobody of the name in the dale?"</p> + +<p>'"Nyah," was the reply, made with the usual phlegm and curtness of the +genuine Daleswoman. "There's naebody ev that nyam."</p> + +<p>'"Well, it is very odd," returned Bailey, in great perplexity. "This +looks like the house to which I was directed. Is there any one ill in +the dale?"</p> + +<p>'"Bless me, bairn," exclaimed the woman, "ye'll mean lile Geordie John. +He's my man; en's liggen en theyar," pointing to an inner room, "varra +badly. Ye'll be t'doctor, I warn't. Cum, cum yer ways in en see him. Noo +I think on't, his reet nyam is John Atkinson, byt he allus gas by lile +Geordie John. His fad'r was Geordie, ye kna, an' nobbut a varra lile +chap."'</p> + +<p>'Capital!' observed Dr. Heriot, as he chuckled and rubbed his hands over +this story. 'Bailey told it with spirit, I'll be bound. How well you +have mastered the dialect, Mr. Lambert.'</p> + +<p>'I made it my study when I first came here. Betha and I found a fund +of amusement in it. Have you ever noticed, Heriot, there is a dry, +heavy sort of wit—a certain richness and appropriateness of +language—employed by some of these Dalesmen, if one severs the grain +from the rough husk?'</p> + +<p>'They are not wanting in character or originality certainly, though they +are often as rugged as their own hills. I fancy Bailey had lived among +them till he had grown to regard them as the finest people and the best +society in the world.'</p> + +<p>'I should not wonder. I remember he told me once that he was called to a +place in Orton to see an elderly man who was sick. "Well, Betty," he +said to the wife, "how's Willy?"</p> + +<p>'"Why," says Betty, "I nau'nt; he's been grumbling for a few days back, +and yesterday he tyak his bed. I thout I'd send for ye. He mebbe git'nt +en oot heat or summat; byt gang ye in and see him." The doctor having +made the necessary examination came out of the sickroom, and Betty +followed him.</p> + +<p>'"Noo, doctor, hoo div ye find him?"</p> + +<p>'"Well, Betty, he's very bad."</p> + +<p>'"Ye dunnot say he's gangen t'dee?"</p> + +<p>'"Well," returned Bailey, reluctantly, "I think it is not unlikely; to +my thinking he cannot pull through."</p> + +<p>'"Oh, dear me," sighed Betty, "poor auld man. He's ben a varra good man +t'me, en I'll be wa to looes him, byt we mun aw gang when oor time cums. +Ye'll cum agen, doctor, en deeah what ye can for hym. We been lang +t'gither, Willy an me, that ha' we."</p> + +<p>'Well, Bailey continued his visits every alternate day, giving no hope, +and on one Monday apprising her that he thought Willy could not last +long.</p> + +<p>'Tuesday was market-day at Penrith, and Betty, who thought she would +have everything ready, sent to buy meat for the funeral dinner.</p> + +<p>'On Wednesday Bailey pronounced Willy rather fresher, but noticed that +Betty seemed by no means glad; and this went on for two or three visits, +until Betty's patience was quite exhausted, and in answer to the +doctor's opinion that he was fresher than he expected to have seen him +and might live a few days longer, she exclaimed—</p> + +<p>'"Hang leet on him! He allus was maist purvurse man I ivver knew, an wad +nobb't du as he wod! Meat'll aw be spoilt this het weather."</p> + +<p>'"Never mind," said Bailey, soothingly, "you can buy some more."</p> + +<p>'"Buy mair, say ye?" she returned indignantly. "I'll du nowt o't mack; +he mud ha deet when he shapt on't, that mud he, en hed a dinner like +other fok, but noo I'll just put him by wi' a bit breead an cheese."</p> + +<p>'As a matter of fact, the meat was spoilt, and had to be buried a day or +two before the old man died.'</p> + +<p>Hugh Marsden's look of horror at the conclusion of the vicar's anecdote +was so comical that Dr. Heriot could not conceal his amusement; but at +this moment a singular incident put a check to the conversation.</p> + +<p>For the last few minutes Polly had seemed unusually restless, and +directly Mr. Lambert had finished, she communicated in an awe-stricken +whisper that she had distinctly seen the tall shadow of a man lurking +behind the wall of the old cotton-mill, as though watching their party.</p> + +<p>'I am sure he is after no good,' continued Polly. 'He looks almost as +tall and shadowy as Leonard in Dr. Heriot's story; and he was crouching +just as Leonard did when the phantom of the headless maiden came up the +glen.'</p> + +<p>Of course this little sally was received with shouts of laughter, but as +Polly still persisted in her incredible story, the young men declared +their intention of searching for the mysterious stranger, and as the +girls wished to accompany them, the little party dispersed across the +glen.</p> + +<p>Mildred, who was busy with one of the maids in clearing the remnants of +the feast and choosing a place where they should boil their gipsy +kettle, heard every now and then ringing peals of laughter mixed with +odd braying sounds.</p> + +<p>Chriss was the first to reappear.</p> + +<p>'Oh, Aunt Milly,' she exclaimed breathlessly, 'what do you think Polly's +mysterious Leonard has turned out to be? Nothing more or less than an +old donkey browsing at the head of the glen. Polly will never hear the +last of it.'</p> + +<p>'Leonard-du-Bray "In a bed of thistles,"' observed Richard, +mischievously. 'Oh, Polly, what a mare's nest you have made of it.'</p> + +<p>Polly looked hot and discomposed; the laugh was against her, and to put +a stop to their teasing, Mildred proposed that they should all go up to +the Fox Tower as they had planned, while she stayed behind with her +brother.</p> + +<p>'We will bring you back some of the shield and bladder fern,' was +Chriss's parting promise. Mildred watched them climbing up the wooded +side of the glen, Dr. Heriot and Polly first, hand-in-hand, and Olive +following more slowly with Richard and Hugh Marsden; and then she went +and sat by her brother, and they had one of their long quiet talks, till +he proposed strolling in the direction of the Fox Tower, and left her to +enjoy a solitary half-hour.</p> + +<p>The little fire was burning now. Etta, in her picturesque red petticoat +and blue serge dress, was gathering sticks in the thicket; the beck +flowed like a silver thread over the smooth gray stones; the sunset +clouds streaked the sky with amber and violet; the old cotton-mill stood +out gray and silent.</p> + +<p>Mildred, who felt strangely restless, had strolled to the mill, and was +trying to detach a delicate spray of ivy frond that was strongly rooted +in the wall, when a footstep behind her made her start, and in another +moment a shadow drew from a projecting angle of the mill itself.</p> + +<p>Mildred rose to her feet with a smothered exclamation half of terror and +surprise, and then turned pale with a vague presentiment of trouble. The +figure behind her had a velvet coat and fair moustache, but could the +white haggard face and bloodshot eyes belong to Roy?</p> + +<p>'Rex, my dear Roy, were you hiding from us?'</p> + +<p>'Hush, Aunt Milly, I don't want them to see me. I only want you.'</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV</h2> + +<h3>ROYAL</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'This would plant sore trouble<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In that breast now clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with meaning shadows<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mar that sun-bright face.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See that no earth-poison<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To thy soul come near!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Watch! for like a serpent<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Glides that heart-disgrace.'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Philip Stanhope Worsley.</span><br /></span> +</div></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>'My dear boy, were you hiding from us?'</p> + +<p>Mildred had recovered from her brief shock of surprise; her heart was +heavy with all manner of foreboding as she noted Royal's haggard and +careworn looks, but she disguised her anxiety under a pretence of +playfulness.</p> + +<p>'Have you been masquerading under the title of Leonard-du-Bray, my +dear?' she continued, with a little forced laugh, holding his hot hands +between her own, for Rex was still Aunt Milly's darling; but he drew +them irritably, almost sullenly, away. There was a lowering look on the +bright face, an expression of restless misery in the blue eyes, that +went to Mildred's heart.</p> + +<p>'I am in no mood for jests,' he returned, bitterly; 'do I look as though +I were, Aunt Milly? Come a little farther with me behind this wall where +no one will spy upon us.'</p> + +<p>'They have all gone to the Fox Tower, they will not be back for an hour +yet. Look, the glen is quite empty, even Etta has disappeared; come and +let me make you some tea; you look worn out—ill, and your hands are +burning. Come, my dear, come,' but Roy resisted.</p> + +<p>'Let me alone,' he returned, freeing himself angrily from her soft +grasp, 'I am not going to make one of the birthday party, not even to +please the queen of the feast. Are you coming, Aunt Milly, or shall I go +back the same way I came?'</p> + +<p>Roy spoke rudely, almost savagely, and there was a sneer on the handsome +face.</p> + +<p>'Yes, I will follow you, Rex,' returned Mildred, quietly.</p> + +<p>What had happened to their boy—to their Benjamin? She walked by his +side without a word, till he had found a place that suited him, a rough +hillock behind a dark angle of the wall; the cotton-mill was between +them and the glen.</p> + +<p>'This will do,' he said, throwing himself down on the grass, while +Mildred sat down beside him. 'I had to make a run for it before. Dick +nearly found me out though. I meant to have gone away without speaking +to one of you, but I thought you saw me.'</p> + +<p>'Rex, dear, have you got into trouble?' she asked, gently. 'No, do not +turn from me, do not refuse to answer me; there must be some reason for +this strange behaviour, or you would not shun your best friends.'</p> + +<p>He shook his head, but did not answer.</p> + +<p>'It cannot be anything very wrong, but we must look it in the face, Roy, +whatever it is. Perhaps your father or Richard could help you better +than I could, or even—' she hesitated slightly—'Dr. Heriot.'</p> + +<p>Roy started convulsively.</p> + +<p>'He! don't mention his name. I hate—I hate him,' clenching his hand, +his white artist hand, as he spoke.</p> + +<p>Mildred recoiled. Was he sane? had he been ill and they had not known +it? His fevered aspect, the restless brilliancy of his eyes, his +incoherence, filled her with dismay.</p> + +<p>'Roy, you frighten me,' she said, faintly. 'I believe you are ill, +dear—that you do not know what you are saying;' but he laughed a +strange, bitter laugh.</p> + +<p>'Ill! I wish I were; I vow I should be glad to have done with it. The +life I have been leading for the last six weeks has been almost +unbearable. Do you recollect you once told me that I should take trouble +badly, that I was a moral coward and should give in sooner than other +men? Well, you were a true prophet, Aunt Milly.'</p> + +<p>'Dear Roy, I am trying to be patient, but do you know, you are torturing +me with this suspense.'</p> + +<p>He laughed again, and patted her hand half-kindly, half-carelessly.</p> + +<p>'You need not look so alarmed, mother Milly,' his pet name for her; 'I +have not forged a cheque, or put my name to a bill, or got into any +youthful scrape. The trouble is none of my making. I am only a coward, +and can't face it as Dick would if he were in my place, and so I thought +I would come and have a look at you all before I went away for a long, +long time. I was pretty near you all the time you were at dinner, and +heard all Dad's stories. It is laughable, isn't it, Aunt Milly?' but the +poor lad's face contracted with a look of hopeless misery as he spoke.</p> + +<p>'My dear, I am so glad,' returned Mildred in a reassured tone; 'never +mind the trouble; trouble can be borne, so that you have done nothing +wrong. But I feared I hardly know what, you looked and spoke so +mysteriously; and then, remember we have heard nothing about you for so +long—even Polly's letters have been unanswered.'</p> + +<p>'Did she say so? did she mind it? What does she think, Aunt Milly?'</p> + +<p>'She has not complained, at least to me, but she has looked very wistful +I notice at post-time; once or twice I fancied your silence a little +damped her happiness.'</p> + +<p>'She is happy then? what an ass I was to doubt it,' he groaned; 'as +though she could be proof against the fascinations of a man like Dr. +Heriot; but oh! Polly, Polly, I never could have believed you would have +thrown me over like this,' and Roy buried his face in his hands with a +hoarse sob as he spoke.</p> + +<p>Mildred sat almost motionless with surprise. Strange to say, she had not +in the least realised the truth; perhaps her own trouble had a little +deadened her quick instinct of sympathy, or Roy's apparently brotherly +affection had deceived her, but she had never guessed the secret of his +silence. He had seemed such a boy too, so light-hearted, that she could +hardly even now believe him the victim of a secret and hopeless +attachment.</p> + +<p>And then the complication. Mildred smiled again, a little smile; there +was something almost ludicrous, she thought, in the present aspect of +affairs. Was it predestined that in the Lambert family the course of +true love would not run smooth? Richard, refused by the woman he had +loved from childhood, she herself innocent, but self-betrayed, wasting +strangely under the daily torture she bore with such outward patience, +and now Roy, breaking his heart for the girl he had never really wooed.</p> + +<p>'Rex, dear, I have been very stupid, but I never guessed this,' waking +up from her bitter reverie as another and another hoarse sob smote upon +her ear. Poor lad, he had been right in asserting himself morally unfit +to cope with any great trouble; weak and yet sensitive, he had succumbed +at once to the blow that had shattered his happiness. 'Hush, you must +hear this like a man for her sake—for Polly's sake,' she whispered, +bending over him and trying to unclench his fingers. 'Rex, there is more +than yourself to think about.'</p> + +<p>'Is that all you have to say to me?' he returned, starting up; 'is that +how you comfort people whose hearts are broken, Aunt Milly? How do you +know what I feel, what I suffer, or how I hate him who has robbed me of +my Polly? for she is mine—she is—she ought to be by every law, human +and divine,' he continued, in the same frenzied voice.</p> + +<p>'Hush, this is wrong, you must not talk so,' replied Mildred, in the +firm soothing voice with which she would have controlled a passionate +child. 'Sit down by me again, Rex, and we will talk about this,' but he +still continued his restless strides without heeding her.</p> + +<p>'Who says she loves him? Let him give me my fair chance and see which +she will choose. It will not be he, I warrant you. Polly's heart is +here—here,' striking himself on the breast, 'but she is too young to +know it, and he has taken a mean advantage of her ignorance. You have +all been against me, every one of you,' continued the poor boy, in a +tone so sullen and despairing that it wrung Mildred's heart. 'You knew I +loved her, that I always loved her, and yet you never gave me a hint of +this; you have been worse than any enemy to me; it was cruel—cruel!'</p> + +<p>'For shame, Rex, how dare you speak to Aunt Milly so!'—and Richard +suddenly turned the angle of the wall and confronted his brother.</p> + +<p>'I heard your voice and the last sentence, and—and I guess the rest, +Rex,' and Richard's wrathful voice softened, and he laid his hand on +Roy's shoulder.</p> + +<p>The other looked at him piteously.</p> + +<p>'Are they all with you? have you brought them to gloat over my misery? +Speak out like a man, Dick, is Dr. Heriot behind that wall? I warn you, +I am in a dangerous mood.'</p> + +<p>'No one is with me,' returned Richard, in a tone of forced composure, +'they are in the woods a long way off still; I came back to see what had +become of Aunt Milly. You are playing us a sorry trick, Rex, to be +hiding away like this; it is childish, unmanly to the last degree.'</p> + +<p>'Ah, you nearly found me out once before, Dick; Polly was with you. I +had a good sight of her sweet face then, the little traitor. I saw the +diamonds on her finger. You little knew who Leonard was. Ah, ha!' and +Roy wrenched himself from his brother's grasp as he had done from +Mildred's, and resumed his restless walk.</p> + +<p>'We must get him away,' whispered Mildred.</p> + +<p>Richard nodded, and then he went up and spoke very gently to Roy.</p> + +<p>'I know all about it, Rex; we must think what must be done. But we +cannot talk here; some one else will be sure to find us out, and you are +not in a fit state for any discussion; you must come home with me at +once.'</p> + +<p>'Why so?'</p> + +<p>Richard hesitated and coloured as though with shame. Rex burst again +into noisy laughter.</p> + +<p>'You think I am not myself, eh! that I have had a little of the devil's +liquor,' but Richard's grave pitying glance subdued him. 'Don't be hard +on me, Dick, it was the first time, and I was so horribly weak and had +dragged myself for miles, and I wanted strength to see her again. I +hated it even as I took it, but it has answered its purpose.'</p> + +<p>'Richard, oh, Richard!' and at Mildred's tone of anguish Richard went up +to her and put his arms round her.</p> + +<p>'You must leave him to me, Aunt Milly. I must take him home; he has +excited himself and taken what is not good for him, and so he cannot +control himself as well as usual. Of course it is wrong, but he did not +mean it, I am sure. Poor Rex, he will repent of it bitterly to-morrow if +I can only persuade him to leave this place.'</p> + +<p>But Mildred's tears had already sobered Roy; his manner as he stood +looking at them was half ashamed and half resentful.</p> + +<p>'Why are you both so hard on me?' he burst out at last; 'when a fellow's +heart is broken he is not always as careful as he should be. I felt so +deadly faint climbing the hill in the sun that I took too much of what +they offered as a restorative; only Dick is such a saint that he can't +make allowances for people.'</p> + +<p>'I will make every allowance if you will only come home with me now,' +pleaded his brother.</p> + +<p>'Where—home? Oh, Dick, you should not ask it,' returned Roy, turning +very pale; 'I cannot, I must not go home while she is there. I should +betray myself—it would be worse than madness.'</p> + +<p>'He is right,' assented Mildred; 'he must go back to London, but you +cannot leave him, Richard.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, back to London—Jericho if you will; it is all one and the same to +me since I have lost my Polly. I left my traps at an inn five miles from +here where I slept, or rather woke, last night. I shouldn't wonder if +you have to carry me on your back, Dick, or leave me lying by the +roadside, if that faintness comes on again.'</p> + +<p>'I must get out the wagonette,' continued Richard, in a sorely perplexed +voice, 'there's no help for it. Listen to me, Rex. You do not wish to +bring unhappiness to two people besides yourself; you are too +good-hearted to injure any one.'</p> + +<p>'Is not that why I am hiding?' was the irritable answer, 'only first +Aunt Milly and then you come spying on me. If I could have got away I +should have done it an hour ago, but, as ill-luck would have it, I fell +over a stone and hurt my foot.'</p> + +<p>'Thank Heaven that we are all of the same mind! that was spoken like +yourself, Rex. Now we have not a moment to lose, they cannot be much +longer; I must get out the horses myself, as Thomas will be at his +sister's, and it will be better for him to know nothing. Follow me to +the farm as quickly as you can, while Aunt Milly goes back to the glen.'</p> + +<p>Roy nodded, his violence had ebbed away, and he was far too miserable +and subdued to dispute his brother's will. When Richard left them he +lingered a moment by Mildred's side.</p> + +<p>'I was a brute to you just now, Aunt Milly, but I know you will forgive +me.'</p> + +<p>'It was not you, my dear, it was your misery that spoke;' and as a faint +gleam woke in his eyes, as though her kindness touched him, she +continued earnestly—'Be brave, Rex, for all our sakes; think of your +mother, and how she would have counselled you to bear this trouble.'</p> + +<p>They were standing side by side as Mildred spoke, and she had her hand +on his shoulder, but a rustling in the steep wooded bank above them +arrested all further speech—her fingers closed nervously on his +coat-sleeve.</p> + +<p>'Hush! what was that! not Richard?'</p> + +<p>Roy shook his head, but there was no time to answer or to draw back into +the shelter of the old wall; they were even now perceived. Light +footsteps crunched over the dead leaves, there was the shimmer of a blue +dress, a bright face peeped at them between the branches, and then with +a low cry of astonishment Polly sprang down the bank.</p> + +<p>'Be brave, Rex, and think only of her.'</p> + +<p>Mildred had no time to whisper more, as the girl ran up to them and +caught hold of Roy's two hands with an exclamation of pleasure.</p> + +<p>'Dear Roy, this is so good of you, and on my birthday too. Was Aunt +Milly in your secret? did she contrive this delightful surprise? I shall +scold you both presently, but not now. Come, they are all waiting; how +they will enjoy the fun,' and she was actually trying to drag him with +gentle force, but the poor lad resisted her efforts.</p> + +<p>'I can't—don't ask me, Polly; please let me go. There, I did not mean +to hurt your soft, pretty hand, but you must not detain me. Aunt Milly +will tell you; at least there is nothing to tell, only I must go away +again,' finished Roy, turning away, not daring to look at her, the +muscles of his face quivering with uncontrollable emotion.</p> + +<p>Polly gave a terrified glance at both; even Aunt Milly looked strangely +guilty, she thought.</p> + +<p>'Yes, let him go, Polly,' pleaded Mildred.</p> + +<p>'What does it all mean, Aunt Milly? is he ill, or has something +happened? Why does he not look at me?' cried the girl, in a pained +voice.</p> + +<p>Roy cast an appealing glance at Mildred to help him; the poor fellow's +strength was failing under the unexpected ordeal, but Mildred's urgent +whisper, 'Go by all means, leave her to me,' reached Polly's quick ear.</p> + +<p>'Why do you tell him to go?' she returned resentfully, interposing +herself between them. 'You shall not go, Roy, till you have looked at me +and told me what has happened. Why, his hand is cold and shaking, just +as yours did that hot night, Aunt Milly,' and Polly held it in both hers +in her simple affectionate way. 'Have you been ill, Roy? no one has told +us;' but her lips quivered as though she had found him greatly changed.</p> + +<p>'Yes—no; I believe I must be ill;' but Mildred, truthful woman, +interposed—</p> + +<p>'He has not been ill, Polly, but something has occurred to vex him, and +he is not quite himself just now. He has told Richard and me, and we +think the best thing will be for him to go away a little while until the +difficulty lessens.' Mildred was approaching dangerously near the truth, +but she knew how hard it would be for Polly's childish mind to grasp it, +unless Roy were weak enough to betray himself. His working features, his +strange incoherence, had already terrified the girl beyond measure.</p> + +<p>'What difficulty, Aunt Milly? If Roy is in trouble we must help him to +bear it. It was wrong of you and Richard to tell him to go away. He +looks ill enough for us to nurse and take care of him. Rex, dear, you +will come home with us, will you not?'</p> + +<p>'No, she says right; I must go,' he returned, hoarsely. 'I was wrong to +come here at all, but I could not help myself. Dear Polly, +indeed—indeed I must; Dick is waiting for me.'</p> + +<p>'And when will you come again?'</p> + +<p>'I cannot tell—not yet.'</p> + +<p>'And you will go away; you will leave me on my birthday without a kind +word, without wishing me joy? and you never even wrote to me.' And now +the tears seemed ready to come.</p> + +<p>'This is past man's endurance,' groaned Roy. 'Polly, if you cared for me +you would not torture me like this.' And he turned so deadly pale that +even Mildred grew alarmed. 'I will say anything you like if you will +only let me go.'</p> + +<p>'Tell me you are glad, that you are pleased; you know what I mean,' +stammered Polly. She had hung her head, and the strange paleness and +excitement were lost on her, as well as the fierce light that had come +in Roy's eyes.</p> + +<p>'For shame, Polly! after all, you are just like other women—I believe +you like to test your power. So I am to wish you joy of your John +Heriot, eh?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, Rex. I have so missed your congratulation.'</p> + +<p>'Well, you shall have it now. How do people wish each other joy on these +auspicious occasions? We are not sister and brother—not even cousins. I +have never kissed you in my life, Polly—never once; but now I suppose I +may.' He snatched her to him as he spoke with an impetuous, almost +violent movement, but as he stooped his head over her he suddenly drew +back. 'No, you are Heriot's now, Polly—we will shake hands.' And as she +looked up at him, scared and sorely perplexed, his lips touched her +bright hair, softly, reverently. 'There, he will not object to that. +Bless you, Polly! Don't forget me—don't forget your old friend Roy. Now +I must go, dear.' And as she still held him half unconsciously, he +quickly disengaged himself and limped painfully away.</p> + +<p>Mildred watched till he had disappeared, and then she came up to the +girl, who was standing looking after him with blank, wide-open eyes.</p> + +<p>'Come, Polly, they will be waiting for us, you know.' But there was no +sign of response.</p> + +<p>'They will be seeking us everywhere,' continued Mildred. 'The sun has +set, and my brother will be faint and tired with his long day. Come, +Polly, rouse yourself; we shall have need of all our wits.'</p> + +<p>'What did he mean?—I do not understand, Aunt Milly. Why was it wrong +for him to kiss me?—Richard did. What made him so strange? He +frightened me; he was not like Roy at all.'</p> + +<p>'People are not like themselves when something is troubling them. I know +all about Roy's difficulty; it will not always harass him. Perhaps he +will write to us, and then we shall feel happier.'</p> + +<p>'Why did he not tell me himself?' returned the girl, plaintively. 'No +one has ever come between us before. Roy tells me everything; I know all +his fancies, only they never come to anything. It is very hard that I am +to be less to him now.'</p> + +<p>'It is the way of the world, little one,' returned Mildred, gravely. +'Roy cannot expect to monopolise you, now that another has a claim on +your time and thoughts.'</p> + +<p>'But Dr. Heriot would not mind. You do not know him, Aunt Milly. He is +so good, so above all that sort of thing. He always said that he thought +our friendship for each other so unique and beautiful—he understood me +so well when I said Roy was just like my own, own brother.'</p> + +<p>'Dear Polly, you must not fret if Roy does not see it in quite the same +light at first,' continued Mildred, hesitating. 'He may feel—I do not +say he does—as though he has lost a friend.'</p> + +<p>'I will write and undeceive him,' she returned, eagerly. 'He shall not +think that for a moment. But no, that will not explain all his sorrowful +looks and strangeness. He seemed as though he wanted to speak, and yet +he shunned me. Oh, Aunt Milly, what shall I do? How can I be happy and +at ease now I know Roy is in trouble?'</p> + +<p>'Polly, you must listen to me,' returned Mildred, taking her hand +firmly, but secretly at her wits' end; even now she could hear voices +calling to them from the farther side of the glen. 'This little +complication—this difficulty of Roy's—demands all our tact. Roy will +not like the others to know he has been here.'</p> + +<p>'No! Are you sure of that, Aunt Milly?' fixing her large dark eyes on +Mildred.</p> + +<p>'Quite sure—he told me so himself; so we must guard his confidence, you +and I. I must make some excuse for Richard, who will be back presently; +and you must help me to amuse the others, and make time pass till he +comes back.'</p> + +<p>'Will he be long gone? What is he doing with Roy?' pushing back her hair +with strangely restless fingers—a trick of Polly's when in trouble or +perplexity; but Mildred smoothed the thick wild locks reprovingly.</p> + +<p>'He will drive him for a mile or two until they meet some vehicle; he +will not be longer than he can help. Roy has hurt his foot, and cannot +walk well, and is tired besides.'</p> + +<p>'Tired! he looks worn out; but perhaps we had better not talk any more +now, Aunt Milly,' continued Polly, brushing some furtive tears from her +eyes; 'there is Dr. Heriot coming to find us.'</p> + +<p>'We were just going to scour the woods for you two,' he observed, eyeing +their discomposed faces, half comically and half anxiously. 'Were you +still looking for Leonard-du-Bray?' But as Polly faltered and turned +crimson under his scrutinising glance, Mildred answered for her.</p> + +<p>'Polly was looking for me, I believe. We have been sad truants, I know, +and shall be punished by cold tea.'</p> + +<p>'And Richard—have you not seen Richard?' he demanded in surprise.</p> + +<p>'Yes, but he left me before Polly made her appearance; he has gone +farther on, and will be back presently. Polly is dreadfully tired, I am +afraid,' she continued, as she saw how anxiously he was eyeing the +girl's varying colour; but Polly, weary and over-anxious, answered with +unwonted irritability—</p> + +<p>'Every one is tired, more or less; these days are apt to become stupid +in the end.'</p> + +<p>'Well, well,' he returned, kindly, 'you and Aunt Milly shall rest and +have your tea, and I will walk up to the farm and order the wagonette; +it is time for us to be going.'</p> + +<p>'No, no!' exclaimed Polly, in sudden fright at the mistake she had made. +'Have you forgotten your promise to show us the glen in the moonlight?'</p> + +<p>'But, my child, you are so tired.' But she interrupted him.</p> + +<p>'I am not tired at all,' she said, contradicting herself. 'Aunt Milly, +make him keep his promise. One can only have one birthday in a year, and +I must have my own way in this.'</p> + +<p>'I shall take care you have it very seldom,' he returned, fondly. But +she only shivered and averted her face in reply.</p> + +<p>During the hour that followed, while they waited in suspense for +Richard, Polly continued in the same variable mood. She laughed and +talked feverishly; a moment's interval in the conversation seemed to +oppress her; when, in the twilight, Dr. Heriot's hand approached hers +with a caressing movement, she drew herself away almost petulantly, and +then went on with her nonsense.</p> + +<p>Mildred's brow furrowed with anxiety as she watched them. She could see +Dr. Heriot was perplexed as well as pained by the girl's fitful mood, +though he bore it with his usual gentleness. After her childish repulse +he had been a little silent, but no one but Mildred had noticed it.</p> + +<p>The others were talking merrily among themselves. Olive and Mr. Marsden +were discussing the merits and demerits of various Christian names which +according to their ideas were more or less euphonious. The subject +seemed to interest Dr. Heriot, and during a pause he turned to Polly, +and said, in a half-laughing, half-serious tone—</p> + +<p>'Polly, when we are married, do you always mean to call me Dr. Heriot?'</p> + +<p>For a moment she looked up at him with almost a scared expression. 'Yes, +always,' she returned at last, very quietly.</p> + +<p>'But why so, my child,' he replied, gravely, amusing himself at her +expense, 'when John Heriot is my name?'</p> + +<p>'Because—because—oh, I don't know,' was the somewhat distressed +answer. 'Heriot is very pretty, but John—only Aunt Milly likes John; +she says it is beautiful—her favourite name.'</p> + +<p>It was only one of Polly's random speeches, and at any other time would +have caused Mildred little embarrassment; but anxious, jaded, and weary +as she was, her feelings were not so well under control, and as Dr. +Heriot raised his eyes with a pleased expression as though to hear it +corroborated by her own lips, a burning blush, that seemed to scorch +her, suddenly rose to her face.</p> + +<p>'Polly, how can you be so foolish?' she began, with a trace of real +annoyance in her clear tones; but then she stopped, and corrected +herself with quiet good sense. 'I believe, after all, it is my favourite +name. You know it belonged to the beloved disciple.'</p> + +<p>'Thank you,' was Dr. Heriot's low reply, and the subject dropped; but +Mildred, sick at heart, wondered if her irritability had been noticed. +The pain of that dreadful blush seemed to scorch her still. What would +he think of her?</p> + +<p>Her fears were not quite groundless. Dr. Heriot had noticed her sudden +embarrassment, and had quickly changed the subject; but more than once +that night he went over the brief conversation, and questioned himself +as to the meaning of that strange sudden flush on Mildred Lambert's +face.</p> + +<p>Most of the party were growing weary of their enforced stay, when +Richard at last made his appearance in the glen. The moon had risen, the +heavy autumnal damps had already saturated the place, the gipsy fire had +burnt down to its last ember, and Etta sat shivering beside it in her +red cloak.</p> + +<p>Richard's apologies were ample and sounded sincere, but he offered no +explanation of his strange desertion. The wagonette was waiting, he +said, and they had better lose no time in packing up. He thought even +Polly must have had enough of her beloved cotton-mill.</p> + +<p>Polly made no answer; with Richard's reappearance her forced spirits +seemed to collapse; she stood by listlessly while the others lifted the +hampers and wraps; when the little cavalcade started she followed with a +step so slow and flagging that Dr. Heriot paused more than once.</p> + +<p>'Oh, Heartsease, how tired you are!' he said, pityingly, 'and I have not +a hand to give you. Wrap yourself in my plaid, darling. I have seen you +shiver more than once.' But she shook her head, and the plaid still +trailed from her arm over the dewy grass.</p> + +<p>But Mildred noticed one thing. She saw, when the wagonette had started +along the dark country road, that Dr. Heriot had taken the plaid and +wrapped it round the weary girl; but she saw something else—she saw +Polly steal timidly closer to the side of her betrothed husband, saw the +kind arm open to receive her, and the little pale face suddenly lay +itself down on it with a look of weariness and grief that went to her +heart.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI</h2> + +<h3>'IS THAT LETTER FOR ME, AUNT MILLY?'</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'When dark days have come, and friendship<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Worthless seemed, and life in vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That bright friendly smile has sent me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Boldly to my task again;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It has smiled on my successes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Raised me when my hopes were low,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And by turns has looked upon me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With all the loving eyes I know.'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Adelaide Anne Procter.</span><br /></span> +</div></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>There was a long troubled talk between Mildred and Richard that night. +Richard, who had borne his own disappointment so bravely, seemed utterly +downcast on his brother's account.</p> + +<p>'I would rather have had this happen to any of us but Roy,' he said, +walking up and down Mildred's room that night.</p> + +<p>'Hush, Richard, she will hear us,' returned Mildred, anxiously; and then +he came and rested his elbow on the sill beside her, and they talked in +a low subdued key, looking over the shadowy fells and the broad level of +moonlight that lay beneath them.</p> + +<p>'You do not know Roy as well as I do. I believe he is physically as well +as morally unfit to cope with a great sorrow; where other men fight, he +succumbs too readily.'</p> + +<p>'You have your trouble too, Cardie; he should remember that.'</p> + +<p>'I have not lost hope, Aunt Milly,' he returned, gravely. 'I am happier +than Rex—far happier; for it is no wrong for me to love Ethel. I have a +right to love her, so long as no one else wins her. Roy will have it +Polly has jilted him for Heriot.'</p> + +<p>'Jilted him! that child!'</p> + +<p>'Yes, he maintains that she loves him best, only that she is unconscious +of her own feelings. He declares that to his belief she has never really +given her heart to Heriot. I am afraid he is right in declaring the +whole thing has been patched up too hastily. It has always seemed to me +as though Polly were too young to know her own mind.'</p> + +<p>'Some girls are married at eighteen.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, but not Polly; look what a child she is, and how quiet a life she +has led for the last three years; she has seen no one but ourselves, +Marsden, and Heriot; do you know, gentle as he is, she seems half afraid +of him.'</p> + +<p>'That is only natural in her position.'</p> + +<p>'You think it does not augur want of love? Well, you may be right; I +only profess to understand one girl,'—with a sigh—'and I can read her +like a book; but Roy, Aunt Milly—what must we do about Roy?'</p> + +<p>Mildred shook her head dejectedly.</p> + +<p>'He must not come here under the circumstances, it would not be possible +or right; he has done mischief enough already.'</p> + +<p>'Surely he did not betray himself?' in Richard's sternest voice; 'he +assured me over and over again that he had not said a word which Dr. +Heriot might not hear.'</p> + +<p>'No; he commanded himself wonderfully; he only forgot himself once, and +then, poor lad, he recollected himself in time,—but she must have +noticed how badly it went with him—there was heart-break in his face.'</p> + +<p>'I had sad work with him for the first two miles,' returned Richard. 'I +was half afraid of leaving him at all, he looked and spoke so wildly, +only my threat of telling my father brought him to reason; he begged—he +implored me to keep his secret, and that no one but you and I should +ever know of his madness.'</p> + +<p>'There would be nothing gained by telling my brother,' returned Mildred.</p> + +<p>'Certainly not; it would be perfectly useless, and fret him beyond +measure; he would take Roy's trouble to heart, and have no pleasure in +anything. How thankful I am, Aunt Milly, that I have already planned my +London journey for the day after to-morrow.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, indeed, I shall feel easier when he is under your care.'</p> + +<p>'I must invent some excuse for being absent most of the day to-morrow; I +cannot bear to think of him shut up in that wretched inn, and unable to +stir out for fear of being recognised. He was very lame, I remember; I +must find out if he has really injured his foot.'</p> + +<p>'Do you think I might go with you, Cardie?' for Mildred was secretly +yearning to comfort her boy, but Richard instantly put a veto on her +proposal.</p> + +<p>'It would not be safe, Aunt Milly; it will excite less questioning if I +go alone; you must be content to trust him to me. I will bring you a +faithful report to-morrow evening;' and as Mildred saw the wisdom of the +reasoning she resolved to abide by it.</p> + +<p>But she passed a miserable night. Roy's haggard face and fierce reckless +speeches haunted her. She dreaded to think of the time when Richard +would be obliged to return to Oxford, and leave Roy to battle alone with +his misery. She wondered what Richard would think if she were to propose +going up to him for a month or two; she was becoming conscious herself +of a need of change,—a growing irritability of the nerves chafed her +calm spirit, daily suffering and suppression were wearing the brave +heart sadly. Mildred, who ailed nothing ordinarily, had secret attacks +of palpitation and faintness, which would have caused alarm if any one +had guessed it, but she kept her own counsel.</p> + +<p>Once, indeed, Dr. Heriot had questioned her. 'You do not look as well as +you used, Miss Lambert; but I suppose I am not to be consulted?' and +Mildred had shaken her head laughingly. But here was work for the +ministering woman—to forget her own strange sorrow in caring for +another;—Roy needed her more than any one; Olive could be safely left +in charge of the others. Mildred fell asleep at last planning long +winter evenings in the young artist's studio.</p> + +<p>The next day seemed more than usually long. Polly, who looked as though +she had not slept all night, spent her time in listlessly wandering +about the house and garden, much to Olive's mild wonder.</p> + +<p>'I do wish you would get something to do, Polly,' she said more than +once, looking up from her writing-table at the sound of the tapping +heels; 'you have not practised those pieces Dr. John ordered from +London.'</p> + +<p>'Olive is right; you should try and occupy yourself, my dear,' observed +Mildred, looking up from her marking; piles of socks lay neatly beside +her, Mr. Lambert's half-stitched wrist-band was in her lap. She looked +with soft reproving eyes at poor restless Polly, her heart all the time +very full of pity.</p> + +<p>'How can you ask me to play?' returned Polly, in a resentful tone. 'Play +when Roy was ill or in some dreadful trouble—was that their love for +him? When Mildred next looked up the girl was no longer standing +watching her with sad eyes; across the beck, through the trees, she +could see the shimmer of a blue dress; a forlorn young figure strolled +aimlessly down the field path and paused by the weir. Of what was she +thinking? Were her thoughts at all near the truth—'Don't forget me; +think of your old friend Roy!'—were those words, said in the saddest +voice she had ever heard, still ringing in her ears.</p> + +<p>It was late in the evening when Richard returned, and he beckoned +Mildred softly out of the room. Polly, who was sitting beside Dr. +Heriot, followed them with wistful eyes, but neither of them noticed +her.</p> + +<p>Richard gave a very unsatisfactory report. He found Roy looking ill in +body as well as in mind, and suffering great pain from his foot, which +was severely contused, though he obstinately refused to believe anything +was really the matter, and had firmly declared his intention of +accompanying his brother to London. His excitement had quite subsided, +but the consequent depression was very great. Richard believed he had +not slept, from the pain of his foot and mental worry, and being so near +home only made his desolation harder to bear.</p> + +<p>He had pencilled a little line to Polly, which he had begged Richard to +bring with his love, and at the same time declared he would never see +her again when she was once Dr. Heriot's wife; and, when Richard had +remonstrated against the weakness and moral cowardice of adopting such a +line of action, had flamed up into his old fierceness; she had made him +an exile from his home and all that he loved, he had no heart now for +his profession, he knew his very hand had lost its cunning; but not for +that could he love her the less or wish her ill. 'She is Polly after +all,' he had finished piteously, 'the only girl I ever loved or cared to +love, and now she is going near to spoil my whole life!'</p> + +<p>'It was useless to argue with him,' Richard said; 'everything like +advice seemed to irritate him, and no amount of sympathy could lull the +intolerable pain.' He found it answer better to remain silent and let +him talk out his trouble, without trying to stem the bitter current. It +went to Mildred's heart to hear how the poor lad at the last had broken +down utterly at bidding his brother good-bye.</p> + +<p>'Don't leave me, Dick; I am not fit to be left,' he had said; and then +he had thrown himself down on the miserable couch, and had hidden his +face in his arms.</p> + +<p>'And the note, Richard?'</p> + +<p>'Here it is; he said you might read it, that there was not a word in it +that the whole world might not see—she could show it to Heriot if she +liked.'</p> + +<p>'All the same, I wish he had not written it,' returned Mildred, +doubtfully, as she unfolded the slip of paper.</p> + +<p>'Dear Polly,' it began, 'I fear you must have thought me very strange +and unkind last evening—your reproachful eyes are haunting me now. I +cannot bear you to misunderstand me. "No one shall come between us." Ah, +I remember you said that; it was so like you, dear—so like my Polly! +Now you must try not to think hardly of me—a great trouble has befallen +me, as Aunt Milly and Richard know, and I must go away to bear it; no +one can help me to bear it; your little fingers cannot lighten it, +Polly—your sympathy could not avail me; it is my own burden, and I must +bear it alone. You must not fret if we do not meet for some time—it is +better so, far better. I have my work; and, dear, I pray that you may be +very happy with the man you love (if he be the one you love, Polly).'</p> + +<p>'Oh, Richard, he ought not to have said that!'</p> + +<p>'She will not understand; go on, Aunt Milly.'</p> + +<p>'But there can be no doubt of that, he is a good man, almost worthy of +my Polly; but I must not say that any longer, for you are Heriot's Polly +now, are you not? but whose ever you are, God bless you, dear.—Roy.'</p> + +<p>Mildred folded the letter sadly.</p> + +<p>'He has betrayed himself in every line,' she said, slowly and +thoughtfully. 'Richard, it will break my heart to do it, but I think +Polly ought not to see this; we must keep it from her, and one day we +must tell Roy.'</p> + +<p>'I was afraid you might say so, but if you knew how he pleaded that this +might be given to her; he seemed to think it would hinder her fretting. +"She cares for me more than any of you know—more than she knows +herself," he said, as he urged me to take it.'</p> + +<p>'What must we do? I It will set her thinking. No, Richard, it is too +venturesome an experiment.'</p> + +<p>But Mildred's wise precautions were doomed to be frustrated, for at that +moment Polly quietly opened the door and confronted them.</p> + +<p>The two conspirators moved apart somewhat guiltily.</p> + +<p>'Am I interrupting you? I knocked, but no one answered. Aunt Milly looks +disconcerted,' said Polly, eyeing them both with keen inquisitive +glance. 'I—I only wanted to know if Richard has brought me a message or +note from Roy?'</p> + +<p>Richard hesitated and looked at Mildred. This business was making him +anxious; he would fain wash his hands of it.</p> + +<p>'Why do you not answer?' continued the girl, palpitating a little. 'Is +that letter for me, Aunt Milly?' and as Mildred reluctantly handed it to +her, a reproachful colour overspread Polly's face.</p> + +<p>'Were you keeping this from me? I thought people's letters were sacred +property,' continued the little lady, proudly. 'I did not think you +could do such a thing, Aunt Milly.'</p> + +<p>'Dear Polly!' remonstrated Richard; but Mildred interposed with quiet +dignity—</p> + +<p>'Polly should be just, even though she is unhappy. Roy wished me to read +his letter, and I have done so.'</p> + +<p>'Forgive me!' returned Polly, almost melting into tears. 'I know I ought +not to have spoken so, but it has been such a miserable day,' and she +leant against Mildred as she read the note.</p> + +<p>She read it once—twice—without comment, and then her features began to +work.</p> + +<p>'Dear Aunt Milly, how unhappy he is—he—Roy; he cannot have done +anything wrong?'</p> + +<p>'No, no, my precious; of course not!'</p> + +<p>'Then why must we not help him to bear it?'</p> + +<p>'We can pray for him, Polly.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, yes, but I cannot understand it,' piteously. 'I have always been +Roy's friend—always, and now he has made Richard and you his +confidants.'</p> + +<p>'We are older and wiser, you see,' began Richard, with glib hypocrisy, +which did not become him.</p> + +<p>Polly stamped her little foot with impatience.</p> + +<p>'Don't, Richard. I will not have you talk to me as though I were a +child. I have a right to know this; you are all treating me badly. Roy +would have told me, I know he would, if Aunt Milly had not come between +us!' and she darted a quick reproachful look at Mildred.</p> + +<p>'It is Polly who is hard on us, I think,' returned Mildred, putting her +arm gently round the excited girl; and at the fond tone Polly's brief +wrath evaporated.</p> + +<p>'I cannot help it,' she returned, hiding her face on Mildred's shoulder; +'it is all so wretched, everything is spoiled. Roy is not pleased that I +am going to be married, he seems angry—put out about it; it is not +that—it cannot be that that is the matter with him? Why do you not +answer?' she continued, impatiently, looking at them both with wide-open +innocent eyes. 'Roy cannot be jealous?'</p> + +<p>Mildred would have given worlds to have been able to answer No, but, +unused to evasion of any kind, the prudent falsehood died a natural +death upon her lips.</p> + +<p>'My dear Polly, what makes you so fanciful?' she began with difficulty; +but it was enough,—Mildred's face could not deceive, and that moment's +hesitating silence revealed the truth to the startled girl; her faithful +friend was hurt, jealous.</p> + +<p>'You see yourself that Rex wants you to be happy,' continued Mildred, +somewhat inconsequently.</p> + +<p>'I shall be happy if he be so—not unless,' replied the girl, a little +sadly.</p> + +<p>Her pretty pink colour had faded, her hands dropped from Mildred's +shoulder; she stood for a long time quiet with her lips apart, her young +head drooping almost to her breast.</p> + +<p>'Shall you answer his letter, Polly?' asked Richard at last, trying to +rouse her.</p> + +<p>'Yes—no,' she faltered, turning very pale. 'Give my love to him, +Richard—my dear love. I—I will write presently,' and so saying, she +slowly and dejectedly left the room.</p> + +<p>'Aunt Milly, do you think she guesses?' whispered Richard, when she had +gone.</p> + +<p>'Heaven only knows, Richard! This is a wretched business; there seems +nothing but trouble everywhere,' and Mildred almost wrung her hands. +Richard thought he had never seen her so agitated—so unlike herself.</p> + +<p>The days and weeks that followed tried Mildred sorely; heavy autumnal +rains had set in; wet grass, dripping foliage, heaps of rotting leaves +saturated with moisture, met her eyes daily. A sunless, lurid atmosphere +surrounded everything; by and by the rain ceased, and a merciless wind +drove across the fells, drying up the soddened pools, whirling the last +red leaves from the bare stems, and threatening to beat in the vicarage +windows.</p> + +<p>A terrible scarping wind, whose very breath was bitterness to flesh and +blood, blatant and unresting, filled the valley with a strange voice and +life.</p> + +<p>The river was full to the brim now; the brown water that rushed below +the terrace carried away sticks and branches, and light eddying leaves; +great fires roared up the vicarage chimneys, while the girls sat and +shivered beside them.</p> + +<p>Those nights were terrible to Mildred—the wild stir and tumult, the +fury of the great rushing wind, fevered her blood with strange +excitement, and drove sleep from her pillow, or, when weariness overcame +her, haunted her brain with painful images.</p> + +<p>Never had the tranquil soul so lacked tranquillity, never had daily +life, never had the many-folded hours, held such torture for her.</p> + +<p>'I must have change, or I shall be ill,' she thought, as she +contemplated her wan and bloodless exterior morning after morning. +'Anything but that—anything but having him pitying me.'</p> + +<p>Relief by his hand might be sweet indeed; but a doubt of her own power +of self-control, should weakness seize upon her, oppressed her like a +nightmare, and the longing to escape from her daily ordeal of suffering +amounted to actual agony.</p> + +<p>Morning after morning she opened Richard's letters, in the hope that her +proposal had been accepted, but each morning some new delay or object +fretted her.</p> + +<p>Richard had remained in London up to the last possible moment. Roy's +injured foot had rendered him dependent on his brother's nursing; his +obstinacy had led to a great deal of unnecessary delay and suffering; +wakeful and harassed nights had undermined his strength, and made him so +nervous and irritable by day, that only patience and firm management +could effect any improvement; he was so reckless that it required +coaxing to induce him to take the proper remedies, or to exert himself +in the least; he had not yet roused himself, or resumed his painting, +and all remonstrances were at present unavailing.</p> + +<p>Mildred sighed over this fresh evidence of Roy's weakness and +instability of purpose, and then she remembered that he was suffering, +perhaps ill. No one knew better than herself the paralysing effects on +will and brain caused by anxiety and want of sleep; some stimulus, +stronger than she or Richard could administer, was needful to rouse +Roy's dormant energies.</p> + +<p>Help came when they had least looked for it.</p> + +<p>'Is Roy painting anything now?' asked Polly suddenly, one day, when she +was alone with Mildred.</p> + +<p>[Mildred was writing to Richard; his last letter lay open beside her on +the table. Polly had glanced at it once or twice, but she had not +questioned Mildred concerning its contents. Polly had fallen into very +quiet ways lately; the pretty pink colour had never returned to her +face, the light footstep was slower now, the merry laugh was less often +heard, a sweet wistful smile had replaced it; she was still the same +busy active Polly, gentle and affectionate, as of old, but some change, +subtle yet undefinable, had passed over the girl. Dr. Heriot liked the +difference, even though he marvelled at it. 'Polly is looking quite the +woman,' he would say presently. Mildred paused, a little startled over +Polly's abrupt question.]</p> + +<p>'Richard does not say; it is not in his letter, my dear,' she stammered.</p> + +<p>'Not in this one, perhaps, but in his last,' persisted Polly. 'Try to +remember, Aunt Milly; how does Richard say that Rex occupies himself?'</p> + +<p>'I am afraid he is very idle,' returned Mildred, reluctantly.</p> + +<p>Polly coloured, and looked distressed.</p> + +<p>'But his foot is better; he is able to stand, is he not?'</p> + +<p>'I believe so. Richard certainly said as much as that.'</p> + +<p>'Then it is very wrong for him to be losing time like this; he will not +have his picture in the Academy after all. Some one ought to write and +remind him,' faltered Polly, with a little heat.</p> + +<p>'I have done so more than once, and Richard is for ever lecturing. Roy +is terribly desultory, I am afraid.'</p> + +<p>'Indeed you are wrong, Aunt Milly,' persisted the girl earnestly. 'Roy +loves his work—dearly—dearly—it is only his foot, and—' she broke +down, recovered herself, and hurried on—</p> + +<p>'I think it would be a good thing if Dad Fabian were to go and talk to +him. I will write to him—yes, and I will write to Roy.'</p> + +<p>Mildred did not venture to dissuade her; she had a notion that perhaps +Polly's persuasion might be more efficacious than Richard's arguments. +She took it quite as a matter of course, when, half an hour later, Polly +laid the little note down beside her.</p> + +<p>'There, you may read it,' she said, hurriedly. 'Let it go in Richard's +letter; he may read it too, if he likes.'</p> + +<p>It was very short, and covered the tiniest sheet of note-paper; the +pretty handwriting was not quite so steady as usual.</p> + +<p>'My dearest brother Roy,' it began—never had she called him that +before—'I have never written to thank you for your note. It was a dear, +kind note, and I love you for writing it; do not be afraid of my +misunderstanding or thinking you unkind; you could not be that to any +one. I am so thankful your poor foot is better; it has been terrible to +think of your suffering all this time. I am so afraid it must have +interfered with your painting, and that you have not got on well with +the picture you began when you were here. Roy, dear, you must promise to +work at it harder than ever, and as soon as you are able. I am sure it +will be the best picture you have ever done, and I have set my heart on +seeing it in the Academy next year; but unless you work your hardest, +there will be no chance of that. I have asked Dad Fabian to come and +lecture you. You and he must have one of your clever art-talks, and then +you must get out your palette and brushes, and set to work on that +pretty little girl's red cloak.</p> + +<p>'Do, Roy—do, my dear brother. Your loving friend, POLLY.</p> + +<p>'Be kind to Dad Fabian. Make much of the dear old man. Remember he is +Polly's friend.'</p> + +<p>It was the morning after the receipt of this letter, so Richard informed +Mildred, that Roy crept languidly from the sofa, where he spent most of +his days, and sat for a long time fixedly regarding the unfinished +canvas before him.</p> + +<p>Richard made no observation, and shortly left the room. When he returned +an hour afterwards, Roy was working at a child's drapery, with +compressed lips and frowning brow.</p> + +<p>He tossed back his fair hair with the old irritable movement as his +brother smiled approval.</p> + +<p>'Well done, Roy; there is nothing like making a beginning after all.'</p> + +<p>'I hate it as much as ever,' was the sullen answer. 'I am only doing it +because—she told me—and I don't mean to disappoint her. I am her +slave; she might put her pretty foot on my neck if she liked. Ah, Polly, +Polly, what a poor fool you have made of me.' And Roy put his head on +the easel, and fairly groaned.</p> + +<p>But there was no shirking labour after that. Roy spent long moody hours +over his work, while Richard sat by with his books. An almost unbroken +silence prevailed in the young artist's studio. 'The sweet whistler' in +Dr. Heriot's little glass-house no longer existed; a half-stifled sigh, +or an ejaculation of impatience, only reached Richard's ears from time +to time; but Roy seemed to have no heart for conversation,—nothing +interested him, his attention flagged after the first few minutes.</p> + +<p>Richard was obliged to go back to Oxford at the beginning of the term; +but Dad Fabian took his place. Mildred learnt to her dismay that the old +man was located at the cottage, at Roy's own wish, and was likely to +remain for some weeks. How Mildred's heart sank at the news; her plan +had fallen to the ground; the change and quiet for which she was pining +were indefinitely postponed.</p> + +<p>No one but Dr. Heriot guessed how Mildred's strength was failing; but +his well-meant inquiries were evidently so unpalatable that he forbore +to press them. Only once or twice he hinted to Mr. Lambert that he +thought his sister was looking less strong than usual, and wanted change +of air.</p> + +<p>'Heriot tells me that you are not looking well—that you want a change, +Mildred,' her brother said to her one day, and, to his surprise, she +looked annoyed, and answered more hastily than her wont—</p> + +<p>'There is nothing the matter with me, at least nothing of consequence. I +am not one of those who are always fancying themselves ill.'</p> + +<p>'But you are thinner. Yes, I am sure he is right; you are thinner, +Mildred.'</p> + +<p>'What nonsense, Arnold; he has put that in your head.</p> + +<p>By and by I shall be glad of a little change, I daresay. When Mr. Fabian +leaves Roy, I mean to take his place.'</p> + +<p>'A good idea,' responded Mr. Lambert, warmly; 'it will be a treat for +Rex, and will do you good at the same time. I was thinking of running up +myself after Christmas. One sees so little of the boy, and his letters +are so short and unsatisfactory; he seems a little dull, I fancy.'</p> + +<p>'Mr. Fabian will cheer him up,' replied Mildred, evasively. She was +thankful when her brother went back to his study. She felt more than +usually oppressed and languid that day, though she would not own it to +herself; her work wearied her, and the least effort to talk jarred the +edge of her nerves.</p> + +<p>'How dreadful it is to feel so irritable and cross, as I have done +lately,' she thought. 'Perhaps after all he is right, and I am not so +strong as usual; but I cannot have them all fancying me ill. The bare +idea is intolerable. If I am going to be ill, I hope I may know it, that +I may get away somewhere, where his kindness will not kill me.'</p> + +<p>She shivered here, partly from the thought, and partly from the opening +of the door. A keen wind whistled through the passage, a rush of cold +air followed Polly as she entered. Dr. Heriot was with her.</p> + +<p>His cordial greeting was as hearty as ever.</p> + +<p>'All alone, and in the dark, and positively doing nothing; how unlike +Aunt Milly,' he said, in his cheerful quizzical voice; and kneeling down +on the rug, he stirred the fire, and threw on another log, rousing a +flame that lighted up the old china and played on the ebony chairs and +cabinet.</p> + +<p>The shadows had all fled now, the firelight gleamed warmly on the couch, +where Mildred was sitting in her blue dress, and on Dr. Heriot's dark +face as he threw himself down in the easy-chair that, as he said, looked +so inviting.</p> + +<p>'Polly is tired, and so am I. We have been having an argument that +lasted us all the way from Appleby.' And he leant back his head on the +cushions, and looked up lazily at Polly as she stood beside him in her +soft furs, swinging her hat in her hand and gazing into the fire. +'Polly, do be reasonable and sit down!' he exclaimed, coaxingly.</p> + +<p>'I cannot, I shall be late for tea; I—I—do not wish to say anything +more about it,' she panted, somewhat unsteadily.</p> + +<p>'Nay, Heartsease,' he returned, gravely, 'this is hardly using me well; +let us refer the case to Aunt Milly. This naughty child,' he continued, +imprisoning her hand, as she still stood beside him—and Mildred noticed +now that she seemed to lean against the chair for support—'this naughty +Polly of ours is giving me trouble; she will have it she is too young to +be married.'</p> + +<p>Mildred put her hand suddenly to her heart; a troublesome palpitation +oppressed her breathing. Polly hung her head, and then a sudden +resolution seized her.</p> + +<p>'Let me go to Aunt Milly. I want to speak to her,' she said, wrenching +herself gently from his hold; and as he set her free, she dropped on the +rug at Mildred's side.</p> + +<p>'You must not come to me to help you, Polly,' said Mildred, with a faint +smile; 'you must be guided in this by Dr. Heriot's wishes.'</p> + +<p>'Ah, I knew you would be on my side, Miss Lambert; but you have no idea +how obstinate she is. She declares that nothing will induce her to marry +until her nineteenth birthday.'</p> + +<p>'A whole year!' repeated Mildred, in surprise. She felt like a prisoner, +to whom the bitterness of death was past, exposed to the torturing +suspense of a long reprieve.</p> + +<p>'Oh, Aunt Milly, ask him not to press me,' pleaded the girl; 'he is so +good and patient in everything else, but he will not listen to me in +this; he wants me to go home to him now, this Christmas.'</p> + +<p>'Why should we wait?' replied Dr. Heriot, with an unusual touch of +bitterness in his voice. 'I shall never grow younger; my home is +solitary enough, Heaven knows; and in spite of all my kind friends here, +I have to endure many lonely hours. Polly, if you loved me, I think you +would hardly refuse.'</p> + +<p>'He says right,' whispered Mildred, laying her cold hand on the girl's +head. 'It is your duty; he has need of you.'</p> + +<p>'I cannot,' replied Polly, in a choked voice; but as she saw the cloud +over her lover's brow, she came again to his side, and knelt down beside +him.</p> + +<p>'I did not mean to grieve you, dear; but you will wait, will you not?'</p> + +<p>'For what reason, Polly?' in a sterner voice than she had ever heard +from him before.</p> + +<p>'For many reasons; because—because—' she hesitated, 'I am young, and +want to grow older and wiser for your sake; because—' and now a low sob +interrupted her words, 'though I love you—dearly—ah, so dearly—I want +to love you more, as I know I shall every day. You must not be angry +with me if I try your patience a little.'</p> + +<p>'I am not angry,' he repeated, slowly, 'but your manner troubles me. Are +you sure you do not repent our engagement—that you love me, Polly?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, yes; please do not say such things,' clinging to him, and crying +as though her heart would break.</p> + +<p>They had almost forgotten Mildred, shrinking back in the corner of her +couch.</p> + +<p>'Hush! Heartsease, my darling—hush! you distress me,' soothing her with +the utmost tenderness. 'We will talk of this again; you shall not be +hampered or vexed by me. I am not so selfish as that, Polly.'</p> + +<p>'No, you are goodness itself,' she replied, remorsefully; and now she +kissed his hand—oh, so gratefully. 'But you must never say that +again—never—never.'</p> + +<p>'What?'</p> + +<p>'That I do not love you; it is not the truth; it cannot be, you know. +You do not think it?' looking up fearfully into his face.</p> + +<p>'I think you love me a little,' he answered, lightly—too lightly, +Mildred thought, for the gloomy look had not passed away from his eyes.</p> + +<p>'He is disappointed; he thinks as I do, that perfect love ought to cast +out fear,' she said to herself.</p> + +<p>But whatever were his thoughts, he did not give utterance to them, but +only seemed bent on soothing Polly's agitation. When he had succeeded, +he sent her away, to get rid of all traces of tears, as he said, but as +the door closed on her, Mildred noticed a weary look crossed his face.</p> + +<p>How her heart yearned to comfort him!</p> + +<p>'Right or wrong, I suppose I must abide by her decision, he said at +last, speaking more to himself than to her. That roused her.</p> + +<p>'I do not think so,' she returned, speaking with her old energy. 'Give +her a little time to get used to the idea, and then speak to her again. +The thought of Christmas has startled her. Perhaps Easter would frighten +her less.'</p> + +<p>'That is just it. Why should it frighten her?' he returned, doubtfully. +'She has known me now for three years. I am no stranger to her; she has +always been fond of me; she has told me so over and over again. No,' he +continued, decidedly, 'I will not press her to come till she wishes it. +I am no boy that cannot bear a disappointment. I ought to be used to +loneliness by this time.'</p> + +<p>'No, no; she shall not treat you so, Dr. Heriot. I will not have it. +I—some one will prevent it; you shall not be left lonely for another +year—you, so good and so unselfish.' But here Mildred's excitement +failed; a curious numb feeling crept over her; she fancied she saw a +surprised look on Dr. Heriot's face, that he uttered an exclamation of +concern, and then she knew no more.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII</h2> + +<h3>COOP KERNAN HOLE</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'The great and terrible Land<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of wilderness and drought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lies in the shadows behind me—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the Lord hath brought me out.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'The great and terrible river<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I stood that night to view<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lies in the shadows before me—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the Lord will bear me through.'—<span class="smcap">Poems by R. M.</span><br /></span> +</div></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>Mildred felt a little giddy and confused when she opened her eyes.</p> + +<p>'Is anything the matter? I suppose I have been a little faint; but it is +nothing,' she said, feebly. Her head was on a soft pillow; her face was +wet with cold, fragrant waters; Polly was hanging over her with a +distressed expression; Dr. Heriot's hand was on her wrist.</p> + +<p>'Hush, you must not talk,' he said, with a grave, professional air, 'and +you must drink this,' so authoritatively that Mildred could not choose +but to obey. 'It is nothing of consequence,' he continued, noticing an +anxious look on her face; 'the room was hot, and our talk wearied you. I +noticed you were very pale when we came in.' And Mildred felt relieved, +and asked no more questions.</p> + +<p>She was very thankful for the kindness that shielded her from all +questioning and comment. When Dr. Heriot had watched the reviving +effects of the cordial, and had satisfied himself that there would be no +return of the faintness, he quietly but peremptorily desired that Polly +should leave her. 'You would like to be perfectly alone for a little +while, would you not?' he said, as he adjusted the rug over her feet and +placed the screen between her and the firelight, and Mildred thanked him +with a grateful glance. How could he guess that silence was what her +exhausted nerves craved more than anything?</p> + +<p>But Dr. Heriot was not so impervious as he seemed. He was aware that +some nervous malady, caused by secret anxiety or hidden care, was +wasting Mildred's fine constitution. The dilated pupils of the eyes, the +repressed irritability of manner, the quick change of colour, with other +signs of mental disturbance, had long ago attracted his professional +notice, and he had racked his brains to discover the cause.</p> + +<p>'She has over-exerted herself, or else she has some trouble,' he said to +himself that night, as he sat beside his solitary fire. She had crept +away to her own room during the interval of peace that had been allowed +her, and he had not suffered them to disturb her. 'I will come and see +her to-morrow,' he had said to Olive; 'let her be kept perfectly quiet +until then;' and Olive, who knew from experience the soothing effects of +his prescription, mounted guard herself over Mildred's room, and forbade +Polly or Chriss to enter.</p> + +<p>Dr. Heriot had plenty of food for meditation that night. In spite of his +acquiescence in Polly's decision, he felt chilled and saddened by the +girl's persistence.</p> + +<p>For the first time he gravely asked himself, Had he made a mistake? Was +she too young to understand his need of sympathy? Would it come to this, +that after all she would disappoint him? As he looked round the empty +room a strange bitterness came over him.</p> + +<p>'And it is to this loneliness that she will doom me for another year,' +he said, and there was a heavy cloud on his brow as he said it. 'If she +really loved me, would she abandon me to another twelvemonth of +miserable retrospection, with only Margaret's dead face to haunt me with +its strange beauty?' But even as the thought passed through him came the +remembrance of those clinging arms and the dark eyes shining through +their tears.</p> + +<p>'I love you dearly—dearly—but I want to love you more.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, Heartsease,' he groaned, 'I fear that the mistake is mine, and that +I have not yet won the whole of your innocent heart. I have taken it too +much as a matter of course. Perhaps I have not wooed you so earnestly as +I should have wooed an older woman, and yet I hardly think I have failed +in either devotion or reverence. Ah,' he continued, with an involuntary +sigh, 'what right have I to complain if she withhold her fresh young +love—am I giving her all that is in me to give?' But here he stopped, +as though the reflection pained him.</p> + +<p>He remembered with what sympathy Mildred had advocated his cause. She +had looked excited—almost indignant—as Polly had uttered her piteous +protest for time. Had her clear eyes noticed any signs of vacillation or +reluctance? Could he speak to her on the subject? Would she answer him +frankly? And then, for the first time, he felt as though he could not so +speak to her.</p> + +<p>'Every one takes their troubles to her, but she shall not be harassed by +me,' he thought. 'She is sinking now under the burdens which most likely +other people have laid upon her. I will not add to their weight.' And a +strange pity and longing seized him to know what ailed the generous +creature, who never thought of herself, but of others.</p> + +<p>Mildred felt as though some ordeal awaited her when she woke the next +morning. She looked so ill and weak that Olive was in despair when she +insisted on rising and dressing herself. 'It will bring on the faintness +again to a certainty,' she said, in a tone of unusual remonstrance; but +Mildred was determined.</p> + +<p>But she was glad of Olive's assistance before she had finished, and the +toilet was made very slowly and wearily. At the drawing-room door Dr. +Heriot met her with a reproachful face; he looked a little displeased.</p> + +<p>'So you have cast my prescription to the wind,' he said, drily, 'and are +determined not to own yourself ill.' But Mildred coloured so painfully +that he cut short his lecture and assisted her to the couch in silence.</p> + +<p>'There you may stop for the next two or three days,' he continued, +somewhat grimly. 'Mr. Lambert has desired me to look after you, and I +shall take good care that you do not disobey my orders again. I have +made Olive head nurse, and woe be to her if there be a single +infringement of my rules.'</p> + +<p>Mildred looked up at him timidly. He had been so gentle with her the +preceding evening that this change of manner disturbed her. This was not +his usual professional gravity; on such occasions he had ever been +kindness itself. He must be put out—annoyed—the idea was absurd, but +could she have displeased him? She was too weak to bear the doubt.</p> + +<p>'Have I vexed you, Dr. Heriot, by coming down?' she asked, gently. 'I +should be worse if I fancied myself ill. I—I have had these attacks +before; they are nothing.'</p> + +<p>'That is your opinion, is it? I must say I thought better of your sense, +Miss Lambert,' still gruffly.</p> + +<p>Mildred's eyes filled with tears.</p> + +<p>'Yes, I am vexed,' he continued sitting down by her; but his tone was +more gentle now. 'I am vexed that you are hiding from us that you are +suffering. You keep us all in the dark; you deny you are ill. I think +you are treating us all very badly.'</p> + +<p>'No—no,' she returned, with difficulty. 'I am not ill—you must not +tell me so.' And her cheek paled perceptibly.</p> + +<p>'Have you turned coward suddenly?' he replied, with a keen look at her. +'I have heard you say more than once that the dread of illness was +unknown to you; that you could have walked a fever hospital without a +shudder. What has become of your courage, Miss Lambert?'</p> + +<p>'I am not afraid, but I do not want to be ill,' she returned, faintly.</p> + +<p>'That is more unlike you than ever. Impatience, want of submission, do +not certainly belong to your category of faults. Well, if you promise to +follow my prescription, I think I can undertake that you shall not be +ill.'</p> + +<p>Mildred drew a long sigh of relief; the sigh of an oppressed heart was +not lost on Dr. Heriot.</p> + +<p>'But you must get rid of what is on your mind,' he went on, quickly. 'If +other people's burdens lie heavily, you must shift them to their own +shoulders and think only of yourself. Now I want to ask you a few +questions.'</p> + +<p>Mildred looked frightened again, but something in Dr. Heriot's manner +this morning constrained her to obey. His inquiries were put skilfully, +and needed only a yea and nay, as though he feared she would elude him. +Mildred found herself owning to loss of appetite and want of sleep; to +languor and depression, and a tendency to excessive irritation; noises +jarred on her; a latent excitement took the place of strength. She had +lost all pleasure in her duties, though she still fulfilled them.</p> + +<p>'And now what does this miserable state of the nerves mean?' was his +next question. Mildred said nothing.</p> + +<p>'You have suffered no shock—nothing has alarmed you?' She shook her +head.</p> + +<p>'You cannot eat or sleep; when you speak you change colour with every +word; you are wasted, getting thinner every day, and yet there is no +disease. This must mean something, Miss Lambert—excuse me; but I am +your friend as well as your doctor. I cannot work in the dark.'</p> + +<p>Mildred's lips quivered. 'I want change—rest. I have had anxieties—no +one can be free in this world. I am getting too weak for my work.' What +a confession from Mildred! At another time she would have died rather +than utter it; but his quiet strength of will was making evasion +impossible. She felt as though this friend of hers was reading her +through and through. She must escape in some measure by throwing herself +upon his mercy.</p> + +<p>He looked uneasy at that; his eyes softened, then suffused.</p> + +<p>'I thought as much,' he muttered; 'I could not be deceived by that +face.' And a great pity swelled up in his heart.</p> + +<p>He would like to befriend this noble woman, who was always so ready to +sacrifice herself to the needs of others. He would ask her to impart her +trouble, whatever it was; he might be able to help her. But Mildred, who +read his purpose in his eyes, went on breathlessly—</p> + +<p>'It is the rest I want, and the change; I am not ill. I knew you would +say so; but the nerves get strained sometimes, and then worries will +come.'</p> + +<p>'Tell me your trouble,' he returned abruptly, but it was the abruptness +of deep feeling. 'I have not forgotten your kindness to me on more than +one occasion. I have debts of gratitude to pay, and they are heavy. Make +me your friend—your brother, if you will; you will find I am to be +trusted.' But the poor soul only shrank from him.</p> + +<p>'It cannot be told—there are reasons against it. I have more than one +trouble—anxiety,' she faltered. 'Dr. Heriot, indeed—indeed, you are +very good, but there are some things that cannot be told.'</p> + +<p>'As you will,' he returned, very gently; but Mildred saw he was +disappointed. In what a strange complication she was involved! She could +not even speak to him of her fear on Roy's behalf. He took his leave +soon after that, and Mildred fancied a slight reserve mingled with the +kindness with which he bade her good-bye.</p> + +<p>He seemed conscious of it, for he came back again after putting on his +coat, thereby preventing a miserable afternoon of fanciful remorse on +Mildred's part.</p> + +<p>'I will think what is to be done about the change,' he said, drawing on +his driving-gloves. 'I am likely to be busy all day, and shall not see +you again this evening. Keep your mind at rest as well as you can. You +don't need to be told in what spirit all trials must be borne—the +darker the cloud the more need of faith.' He held out his hand to her +again with one of his bright, genial smiles, and Mildred felt braced and +comforted.</p> + +<p>Mildred was obliged to allow herself to be treated as an invalid for the +next few days; but when Dr. Heriot saw how the inaction and confinement +fretted her, he withdrew a few of his restrictions, even at times going +against his better judgment, when he saw how cruelly she chafed under +her own restlessness.</p> + +<p>This was the case one chill, sunless afternoon, when he found her +standing by the window looking out over the fells, with a sad +wistfulness that went to his heart.</p> + +<p>As he went up to her he was shocked to see the marks of recent tears +upon her face.</p> + +<p>'What is this—you are not worse to-day?' he asked, in a tone of vexed +remonstrance.</p> + +<p>'No—oh no,' she returned, holding out her hand to him with a misty +smile, the thin blue-veined hand, with its hot dry palm; 'you will think +me a poor creature, Dr. Heriot, but I could not help fretting over my +want of strength just now.'</p> + +<p>'Rome was not built in a day,' he responded, cheerily; 'and people who +indulge in fainting fits cannot expect to feel like Hercules. Who would +have thought that such an inexorable nurse as Miss Lambert should prove +such a fractious invalid?' and there was a tone of reproof under the +light raillery.</p> + +<p>'I do not mean to be impatient,' she answered, sighing; 'but I am so +weary of this room and my own thoughts, and then there are my poor +people.'</p> + +<p>'Don't trouble your head about them; they will do very well without +you,' with pretended roughness.</p> + +<p>She shook her head.</p> + +<p>'You are wrong; they miss me dreadfully; Olive has brought me several +messages from them already.'</p> + +<p>'Then Olive ought to be ashamed of herself, and shall be deposed from +her office of nurse, and Polly shall reign in her stead.'</p> + +<p>But Mildred was too much depressed and in earnest to heed his banter.</p> + +<p>'There is poor Rachel Sowerby up at Stenkrith; her mother has been down +this morning to say that she cannot last very much longer.'</p> + +<p>'I am just going up to see her now. I fear it is only a question of +days,' he replied, gravely.</p> + +<p>Mildred clasped her hands with an involuntary movement of pain.</p> + +<p>'Rachel is very dear to me; she is the model girl and the favourite of +the whole school, and her mother says she is pining to see me. Oh, Dr. +Heriot—' but here she stopped.</p> + +<p>'Well,' he returned, encouragingly; and for the second time he noticed +the exceeding beauty of Mildred's eyes, as she fixed them softly and +beseechingly on his face.</p> + +<p>'Do you think it would hurt me to go that little distance, just to see +Rachel?'</p> + +<p>'What, in this bitter wind!' he remonstrated. 'Wait until to-morrow, and +I will drive you over.'</p> + +<p>'There may be no to-morrows for Rachel,' she returned, with gentle +persistence. 'I am afraid I shall fret sadly if I do not see her again; +she was my best Sunday scholar. The wind will not hurt me; if you knew +how I long to be out in it; just before you came in I was wishing I were +on the top of one of those fells, feeling it sweep over me.'</p> + +<p>'Ministers of grace defend me from the soft pleading of a woman's +tongue!' exclaimed Dr. Heriot, impatiently, but he laughed too; 'you are +a most troublesome patient, Miss Lambert; but I suppose you must have +your way; but you must take the consequences of your own wilfulness.'</p> + +<p>Mildred quietly seated herself.</p> + +<p>'No, I am not wilful; I have no wish to disobey you,' she returned, in a +low voice.</p> + +<p>He drew near and questioned her face; evidently it dissatisfied him.</p> + +<p>'If I do not let you go, you will only worry yourself the whole day, and +your lungs are sound enough,' he continued, brusquely; but Mildred's +strange unreasonableness tried him. 'Wrap yourself up well. Polly is +going with me, but there is plenty of room for both. I will pay my +visit, and leave you with Rachel for an hour, while I get rid of some of +my other patients.'</p> + +<p>Mildred lost no time in equipping herself, and though Dr. Heriot +pretended to growl the greater part of the way, he could not help +noticing how the wind—bleak and boisterous as it was—seemed to freshen +his patient, and bring back the delicate colour to her cheeks.</p> + +<p>'What a hardy north-country woman you have become,' he said, as he +lifted her down from the phaeton, and they went up the path to the +house.</p> + +<p>'I feel changed already; thank you for giving me my way in this,' was +the grateful answer.</p> + +<p>When Dr. Heriot had taken his departure, she went up to the sickroom, +and sat for a long time beside her old favourite, reading and praying +with her, until Rachel had fallen into a doze.</p> + +<p>'She will sleep maybe for an hour or two; she had a terrible night of +pain,' whispered Mrs. Sowerby, 'and she will sleep all the sweeter for +your reading to her. Poor thing! she was set on seeing her dear Miss +Lambert, as she always calls you.'</p> + +<p>'I will come again and see her to-morrow, if Dr. Heriot permits it,' she +replied.</p> + +<p>When Mrs. Sowerby had gone back to her daughter's room, she went and sat +by herself at a window looking over Stenkrith; the rocks and white +foaming pools were distinctly visible through the leafless trees; a +steep flight of steps led down to the stream and waterfall; the steps +were only a few yards from the Sowerbys' house. As Mildred looked, a +strange longing to see the place again took possession of her.</p> + +<p>For a moment she hesitated, as Dr. Heriot's strictures on her imprudence +recurred to her memory, but she soon repelled them.</p> + +<p>'He does not understand—how can he—that this confinement tries me,' +she thought, as she crept softly down the stairs, so as not to disturb +Rachel. 'The wind was delicious. I feel ten times better than I did in +that hot room; he will not mind when I tell him so.'</p> + +<p>Mildred's feverish restlessness, fed by bitter thought, was getting the +better of her judgment; like the skeleton placed at Egyptian feasts to +remind the revellers that they were mortal, so Mildred fancied her +courage would be strengthened, her resolution confirmed, by a visit to +the very spot where her bitterest wound had been received; she +remembered how the dark churning waters had mingled audibly with her +pain, and for the moment she had wished the rushing force had hurried +her with it, with her sweet terrible secret undisturbed, to the bottom +of that deep sunless pool.</p> + +<p>And now the yearning to see it again was too strong to be resisted. +Polly had accompanied Dr. Heriot. Mrs. Sowerby was in her daughter's +room; there was no one to raise a warning voice against her imprudence.</p> + +<p>The whole place looked deserted and desolate; the sun had hidden its +face for days; a dark moisture clung to the stones, making them slippery +in places; the wind was more boisterous than ever, wrapping Mildred's +blue serge more closely round her feet, and entangling her in its folds, +blowing her hair wildly about her face, and rendering it difficult with +her feeble force to keep her footing on the slimy rocks.</p> + +<p>'I shall feel it less when I get lower down,' she panted, as she +scrambled painfully from one rock to another, often stopping to take +breath. A curious mood—gentle, yet reckless—was on her. 'He would be +angry with her,' she thought Ah, well! his anger would only be sweet to +her; she would own her fault humbly, and then he would be constrained to +forgive her; but this longing for freedom, for the strong winds of +heaven, for the melody of rushing waters, was too intense to be +resisted; the restlessness that devoured her still led her on.</p> + +<p>'I see something moving down there,' observed Polly, as Dr. Heriot's +phaeton rolled rapidly over the bridge—'down by the steps, I mean; it +looked almost like Aunt Mildred's blue serge dress.'</p> + +<p>'Your eyes must have deceived you, then,' he returned coolly, as he +pulled up again at the little gate.</p> + +<p>Polly made no answer, but as she quickened her steps towards the place, +he followed her, half vexed at her persistence.</p> + +<p>'My dear child, as though your Aunt Milly would do anything so absurd,' +he remonstrated. 'Why, the rocks are quite unsafe after the rain, and +the wind is enough to cut one in halves.'</p> + +<p>'It is Aunt Milly. I told you so,' returned Polly, triumphantly, as she +descended the step; 'there is her blue serge and her beaver hat. Look! +she sees us; she is waving her hand.'</p> + +<p>Dr. Heriot suppressed the exclamation that rose to his lips.</p> + +<p>'Take care, Polly, the steps are slippery; you had better not venture on +the stones,' he said, peremptorily. 'Keep where you are, and I will +bring Miss Lambert back.'</p> + +<p>Mildred saw him coming; her heart palpitated a little.</p> + +<p>'He will think me foolish, little better than a child,' she said to +herself; he will not know why I came here;' and her courage evaporated. +All at once she felt weak; the rocks were certainly terribly slippery.</p> + +<p>'Wait for me; I will help you!' he shouted, seeing her indecision; but +either Mildred did not hear, or she misunderstood him; the stone was too +high for her unassisted efforts; she tried one lower; it was wet; her +foot slipped, she tried to recover herself, fell, and then, to the +unspeakable horror of the two watching her above, rolled from rock to +rock and disappeared.</p> + +<p>Polly's wild shriek of dismay rang through the place, but Dr. Heriot +never lost his presence of mind for a moment.</p> + +<p>'Stay where you are; on your peril disobey me!' he cried, in a voice of +thunder, to the affrighted girl; and then, though with difficulty, he +steered his way between the slippery stones, and over the dangerous +fissures. He could see her now; some merciful jag in the rocks had +caught part of her dress, and arrested her headlong progress. The +momentary obstacle had enabled her, as she slipped into one of the awful +fissures that open into Coop Kernan Hole, to snatch with frantic hands +at the slimy rock, her feet clinging desperately to the narrow slippery +ledge.</p> + +<p>'John, save me!' she screamed, as she felt herself slipping into the +black abyss beneath.</p> + +<p>'John!'</p> + +<p>John Heriot heard her.</p> + +<p>'Yes, I am coming, Mildred; hold on—hold on, another minute.' The drops +of mortal agony stood on his brow as he saw her awful peril, but he +dared not, for both their sakes, venture on reckless haste; already he +had slipped more than once, but had recovered himself. It seemed minutes +to both of them before Polly saw him kneeling on one knee beside the +hole, his feet hanging over the water.</p> + +<p>'Hush! do not struggle so, Mildred,' he pleaded, as he got his arm with +difficulty round her, and she clung to him almost frantically; the poor +soul had become delirious from the shock, and thought she was being +dashed to pieces; her face elongated and sharpened with terror, as she +sank half fainting against his shoulder. The weight on his arm was +terrible.</p> + +<p>'Good Heavens! what can I do?' he ejaculated, as he felt his strength +insufficient to lift her. His position was painful in the extreme; his +knee was slipping under him; and the dripping serge dress, heavy with +water, increased the strain on the left arm; a false movement, the +slightest change of posture, and they must both have gone. He remembered +how he had heard it said that Coop Kernan Hole was of unknown depth +under the bridge; the dark sluggish pool lay black and terrible between +the rocks; if she slipped from his hold into that cruel water, he knew +he could not save her, for he had ever been accounted a poor swimmer, +and yet her dead-weight was already numbing his arm.</p> + +<p>'Mildred, if you faint we must both die!' he cried in despair.</p> + +<p>His voice seemed to rouse her; some instinct of preservation prompted +her to renewed effort; and as he held her more firmly, she managed to +get one hand round his neck—the other still clutched at the rock; and +as Polly's cries for help reached a navvy working at some distance, she +saw Dr. Heriot slowly and painfully lift Mildred over the edge of the +rock.</p> + +<p>'Thank God!' he panted, and then he could say no more; but as he felt +the agonised shuddering run through Mildred's frame, as, unconscious of +her safety, she still clung to him, he half-pityingly and +half-caressingly put back the unbound hair from the pale face, as he +would have done to a child.</p> + +<p>But he looked almost as ghastly as Mildred did, when, aided by the +navvy's strong arms, they lifted her over the huge masses of rocks and +up the steep steps.</p> + +<p>Polly ran to meet them; her lover's pale and disordered appearance +alarmed her almost as much as Mildred's did.</p> + +<p>'Oh, Heriot!' cried the young girl, 'you are hurt; I am sure you are +hurt.'</p> + +<p>'A strain, nothing else,' he returned, quickly; 'run on, dear Polly, and +open the door for us. Mrs. Sowerby must take us in for a little while.'</p> + +<p>When Mildred perfectly recovered consciousness, she was lying on the +old-fashioned couch in Mrs. Sowerby's best room; but she was utterly +spent and broken, and could do nothing for a little while but weep +hysterically.</p> + +<p>Polly lent over her, raining tears on her hands.</p> + +<p>'Oh, Aunt Milly,' sobbed the faithful little creature, 'what should we +have done if we had lost you? Darling—darling, how dreadful it would +have been.'</p> + +<p>'I wished to die,' murmured Mildred, half to herself; 'but I never knew +how terrible death could be. Oh, how sinful—how ungrateful I have +been.' And she covered her face with her hands.</p> + +<p>'Oh, Heriot; ask her not to cry so,' pleaded poor Polly. 'I have never +seen her cry before, never—and it hurts me so.'</p> + +<p>'It will do her good,' he returned, hastily; but he went and stood by +the window, until Polly joined him.</p> + +<p>'She is better now,' she said, timidly glancing up into his absorbed +face.</p> + +<p>Upon that he turned round.</p> + +<p>'Then we must get her home, that she may change her wet things as soon +as possible. Do you feel as though you can move?' he continued, in his +ordinary manner, though perhaps it was a trifle grave. 'You are terribly +bruised, I fear, but I trust not otherwise injured.'</p> + +<p>She looked up a little surprised at the calmness of his tone, and then +involuntarily she stretched out her hands to him—</p> + +<p>'Let me thank you first—you have saved my life,' she whispered.</p> + +<p>'No,' he returned, quietly. 'It is true your disobedience placed us both +in jeopardy; but it was your obedience at the last that really saved +your life. If you had fainted, you must inevitably have been lost. I +could not have supported you much longer in my cramped position.'</p> + +<p>'Your arm—did I hurt it?' she asked, anxiously, noticing an expression +of pain pass over his face.</p> + +<p>'I daresay I have strained it slightly,' he answered, indifferently; +'but it does not matter. The question is, do you think you can bear to +be moved?'</p> + +<p>'Oh, I can walk. I am better now,' she replied, colouring slightly.</p> + +<p>His coolness disappointed her; she was longing to thank him with the +full fervour of a grateful heart. It was sweet, it was good in spite of +everything to receive her life back through his hands. Never—never +would she dare to repine again, or murmur at the lot Providence had +appointed her; so much had the dark lesson of Coop Kernan Hole taught +her.</p> + +<p>'Well, what is it?' he asked, reading but too truly the varying +expressions of her eloquent face.</p> + +<p>'If you will only let me thank you,' she faltered, 'I shall never forget +this hour to my dying day.'</p> + +<p>'Neither shall I,' he returned, abruptly, as he wrapped her up in his +dry plaid and assisted her to rise. His manner was as kind and +considerate as ever during their short drive, but Mildred felt as though +his reserve were imposing some barrier on her.</p> + +<p>Consternation prevailed in the vicarage at the news of Mildred's danger. +Olive, who seldom shed tears, became pale and voiceless with emotion, +while Mr. Lambert pressed his sister to his heart with a whispered +thanksgiving that was audible to her alone.</p> + +<p>It was good for Mildred's sore heart to feel how ardently she was +beloved. A great flood of gratitude and contrition swept over her as she +lay, bruised and shaken, with her hand in Arnold's, looking at the dear +faces round her. 'It has come to me not in the still, small voice, but +in the storm,' she thought. 'He has brought me out of the deep waters to +serve Him more faithfully—to give a truer account of the life restored +to me.'</p> + +<p>The clear brightness of her eyes surprised Dr. Heriot as he came up to +her to take leave; they reminded him of the Mildred of old. 'You must +promise to sleep to-night. Some one must be with you—Olive or +Polly—you might get nervous alone,' he said, with his usual +thoughtfulness; but she shook her head.</p> + +<p>'I think I am cured of my nervousness for ever,' she returned, in a +voice that was very sweet. The soft smiling eyes haunted him. Had an +angel gone down and troubled the pool? What healing virtues had steeped +the dark waters that her shuddering feet had pressed? Could faith, +full-formed, spring from such parentage of deadly anguish and fear? +Mildred could have answered in the verse she loved so well—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'He never smiled so sweet before<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save on the Sea of Sorrow, when the night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was saddest on our heart. We followed him<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At other times in sunshine. Summer days<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And moonlight nights He led us over paths<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bordered with pleasant flowers; but when His steps<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were on the mighty waters, when we went<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With trembling hearts through nights of pain and loss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His smile was sweeter, and His love more dear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And only Heaven is better than to walk<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With Christ at midnight over moonless seas.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2> + +<h3>DR. HERIOT'S MISTAKE</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'In the cruel fire of sorrow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cast thy heart, do not faint or wail;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let thy hand be firm and steady,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do not let thy spirit quail:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But wait till the trial is over,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And take thy heart again;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For as gold is tried by fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So a heart must be tried by pain!'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Adelaide Anne Procter.</span><br /></span> +</div></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>Mildred slept soundly that night in spite of her bruises. It was Dr. +Heriot who waked.</p> + +<p>What nightmare of oppression was on him? What light, scorching and +illuminating, was shining on him through the gloom? Was he losing his +senses?—had he dreamt it? Had he really heard it? 'John, save me, +John!' as of a woman in mortal anguish calling on her mate, as Margaret +had once—but once—called him, when a glimpse of the dark valley had +been vouchsafed her, and she had bidden him, with frenzied eye and +tongue, arrest her downward course: 'I cannot die—at least, not like +this—you must save me, John!' and that time he had saved her.</p> + +<p>And now he had heard it again, at the only time when conventionality +lays aside its decorous disguise, and the souls of men are bare to their +fellows—at the time of awful peril on the brink of a momentarily +expected death: so had she called to him, and so, with the sudden waking +response of his soul, he had answered her.</p> + +<p>He could see it all now. Never, to his dying hour, could he forget that +scene—the prostrate figure crashing among the rocks, as though to an +immediate and terrible death; the agonised struggle in the dark pit, the +white face pressed heavily like death to his shoulder, the long unbound +hair streaming across his arm; never before had he owned to himself that +this woman was fair, until he had put back the blinding hair with his +hand, as she clung to him in suffering helplessness.</p> + +<p>'I wished to die, but I never knew how terrible death could be,' he had +heard her whisper between her quivering lips; and the knowledge that her +secret was his had bidden him turn away his eyes from her—his own +suffused with tears.</p> + +<p>'Fool! blind fool that I was!' he groaned. 'Fool! never to guess how +dear she was until I saw death trying to snatch her from me; never to +know the reason why her presence inspired me with such comfort and such +rest! And I must needs call it friendship. Was it friendship that +brought me day after day with such a sore heart to minister to her +weakness?—was it only friendship and pity, and a generous wish to +succour her distress?</p> + +<p>'Oh, fool! miserable fool! for ever fated to destroy my own peace of +mind!' But we need not follow the bitter self-communing of that generous +spirit through that long night of doubt and pain from which he rose a +sadder and a better man.</p> + +<p>Alas! he had grasped the truth too late. The true woman, the true mate, +the very nature akin to his own, had been beside him all these years, +and he had not recognised her, blind in his pitiful worship of lesser +lights.</p> + +<p>And as he thought of the innocent girl who had pledged her faith to him, +he groaned again within himself. Polly was not less dear to him in the +misery that had befallen him, yet he knew, and shuddered at the +knowledge, that all unwittingly he had deceived himself and her; he +would love his child-wife dearly, he knew, but not as he could love a +woman like Mildred.</p> + +<p>'If she had been less reserved, less unapproachable in her gentle +dignity, it might have been better for both of us,' he said to himself. +'The saint has hidden the woman; one cannot embrace a halo!' and he +thought with sharp anguish how well this new phase of weakness had +become her. When she had claimed his indulgence for her wayward and +nervous fancies, he had felt even then a sort of pride that she should +appeal to him in her helplessness.</p> + +<p>But these were vain thoughts. It might have been better for both of them +if she were lying now under the dark waters of Coop Kernan Hole, her +angel soul in its native heaven. Yes, it might be far better; he did not +know—he had not Mildred's faith; for as long as they must dwell +together, and yet apart, in this mortal world, life could only be a +bitter thing for him; but not for that should he cease to struggle.</p> + +<p>'I have more than myself to consider,' he continued, as he rose and drew +back the curtain, and looked out on the rich harvest of the +sky-glittering sheaves of stars, countless worlds beyond worlds, +stretching out into immensity. 'God do so to me and more also if my +unkindness or fickleness cloud the clear mirror of that girlish soul. It +is better, far better, for me to suffer—ay, for her too—than to throw +off a responsibility at once so sacred and so pure.'</p> + +<p>How Mildred would have gloried in this generous victory if she had +witnessed it! The knowledge that the tardy blessing of his love had been +vouchsafed her, though too late and in vain, would have gladdened her +desolate heart, and the honour and glory of it would have decked her +lonely life, with infinite blossom.</p> + +<p>But now she could only worship his goodness from afar. None but Mildred +had ever rightly read him, or knew the unselfishness that was so deeply +ingrained in this man's nature. Loving and impulsive by nature, he had +patiently wooed and faithfully held to the woman who had scorned his +affection and provoked his forbearance; he had borne his wrecked +happiness, the daily spectacle of his degradation, with a resignation +that was almost sublime; he had comforted the poor sinner on her +deathbed with assurances of forgiveness that had sunk into her soul with +strange healing; when at last she had left him, he had buried his dead +out of his sight, covering with thick sods, and heaping the earth with +pious hands over the memory of her past sins.</p> + +<p>It was this unselfishness that had first taught him to feel tenderly to +the poor orphan; he had schemed out of pure benevolence to make her his +wife, until the generous fancy had grown dear to him, and he had +believed his own happiness involved in it.</p> + +<p>And now that it had resulted in a bitter awakening to himself and +disappointment to another, no possibility of eluding his fate ever came +into his mind. Polly already belonged to him; she was his, made his own +by a distinct and plighted troth; he could no more put her away from him +than he would have turned away the half-frozen robin that sought refuge +from the inclement storm. Mildred had betrayed her love too late; it was +his lot to rescue her from death, but not to bid her welcome to a heart +that should in all honour belong to another. True, it was a trial most +strange and bitter—an ordeal from which flesh and blood might well +shrink; but long before this he had looked into the burning fiery +furnace of affliction, and he knew, as such men know, that though he +might be cast therein bound and helpless, that even there the true heart +could discern the form most like unto the Son of God.</p> + +<p>It was with some such feeling as this that he lingered by Polly's side, +as though to gain a minute's strength before he should be ushered into +Mildred's presence.</p> + +<p>'How tired you look, Heriot,' she said, as he stood beside her; the word +had involuntarily slipped from her in her gladness yesterday, and as she +timidly used it again his lips touched her brow in token of his thanks.</p> + +<p>'We are improving, Heartsease. I suppose you begin to find out that I am +not as formidable as I look—that Dr. Heriot had a very chilling sound, +it made me feel fifty at least.'</p> + +<p>'I think you are getting younger, or I am getting older,' observed +Polly, quaintly; 'to be sure you look very pale this morning, and your +forehead is dreadfully wrinkled. I am afraid your arm has been troubling +you.'</p> + +<p>'Well, it has been pretty bad,' he returned, evasively; 'one does not +get over a strain so easily. But, now, how is Mildred?'</p> + +<p>The word escaped from him involuntarily, but he did not recall it. Polly +did not notice his slight confusion.</p> + +<p>'She is down in the drawing-room. I think she expects you,' she replied. +'Olive said she had a beautiful night, but of course the bruises are +very painful; one of her arms is quite blackened, she cannot bear it +touched.'</p> + +<p>'I will see what can be done,' was his answer.</p> + +<p>As he crossed the lobby his step was as firm as ever, his manner as +gravely kind as he stood by Mildred's side; the delicacy of her aspect +smote him with dull pain, but she smiled in her old way as she gave him +her left hand.</p> + +<p>'The other is so much bruised that I cannot bear the lightest touch,' +she said, drawing it out from her white shawl, and showing him the cruel +black marks; 'it is just like that to my shoulder.'</p> + +<p>He looked at it pityingly.</p> + +<p>'And yet you slept?'</p> + +<p>'As I have not slept for weeks; no terrible dreams haunted me, no grim +presentiments of evil fanned my pillow with black wing; you must have +exorcised the demon.'</p> + +<p>'That is well,' he returned, sitting down beside her, and trying to +speak with his old cheerfulness; 'reality has beaten off hypochondriacal +fancies. Coop Kernan Hole has proved a stern mentor.'</p> + +<p>'I trust I may never forget the lesson it has taught me,' she returned, +with a slight shudder at the remembrance, and then they were both silent +for a moment. 'Dr. Heriot,' she continued, presently, 'yesterday I +wanted to thank you—I ought rather to have craved your forgiveness.'</p> + +<p>He smiled at that; in spite of himself the old feeling of rest had +returned to him with her presence; her sweet looks, her patience, her +brave endurance of what he knew would be keen suffering to other women, +won the secret tribute of his admiration; he would lay aside his heavy +burden for this one hour, and enjoy this brief interval of peace.</p> + +<p>'I do not wonder that you refused my thanks,' she went on, earnestly; +'to think that my foolish act of disobedience should have placed your +life as well as mine in such deadly peril; indeed, you must assure me of +your forgiveness, or I shall never be happy again,' and Mildred's lip +trembled.</p> + +<p>He took the bruised hand in his, but so tenderly that she did not wince +at his touch; the blackened fingers lay on his palm as restfully as the +little bird he had once warmed in his hands one snowy day. How he loved +this woman who was suing to him with such sweet lips for +forgiveness;—the latent flame just kindled burned with an intensity +that surprised himself.</p> + +<p>'Ah!' she said, mistaking his silence, and looking up into his dark +face—and it looked strangely worn and harassed in the clear morning +light—'you do not answer, you think I am much to blame. I have tried +your patience too far—even yours!'</p> + +<p>'I was angry with you, certainly, when I saw you down on those rocks +jeopardising your precious life,' he replied, slowly. 'Such +foolhardiness was unlike you, and I had reserved certain vials of wrath +at my disposal—but now——'</p> + +<p>He finished with his luminous smile.</p> + +<p>'You think I have been punished sufficiently?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, first stoned and then half submerged. I forgave you directly you +called on me for help,' he returned, making believe to jest, but +watching her intently all the time. Would she understand his vague +allusion? But Mildred, unconscious that she had betrayed herself, only +looked relieved.</p> + +<p>'Besides, there can be no question of forgiveness between friends, and +whatever happens we are friends always,' relinquishing her hand a little +abruptly.</p> + +<p>He rose soon after that.</p> + +<p>Mildred was uneasy; he was evidently suffering severely from his arm, +but he continued to evade her anxious inquiries, assuring her that it +was nothing to the pain of her bruises, and that a wakeful night, more +or less, mattered little to him.</p> + +<p>But as he went out of the room, he told himself that these interviews +were perilously sweet, and must be avoided at all hazards; either he +must wound her with his coldness, or his tenderness would inevitably +betray itself in some unguarded look or word. Twice, already, had her +name lingered on his tongue, and more than one awkward pause had brought +her clear glances questioning to his face.</p> + +<p>What right had he to hold the poor blackened hand in his for more than a +moment? But the sweet soul had taken it all so naturally; her colour had +never varied; possibly her great deliverance had swallowed all lesser +feelings for the time; the man she loved had become her preserver, and +this knowledge was so precious to her that it had lifted her out of her +deep despondency.</p> + +<p>But as he set forth to his work, he owned within himself that such +things must not be—it were a stain on his integrity to suffer it; from +the first of Mildred's coming their intercourse had been free and +unrestrained, but for the future he would time his visits when the other +members of the family would be present, or, better still, he would keep +Polly by his side, trusting that the presence of his young betrothed +would give him the strength he needed.</p> + +<p>Mildred did not seem to notice the change, it was effected so skilfully; +she was always better pleased when Olive or Polly was there—it diverted +Dr. Heriot's attention from herself, and caused her less embarrassment; +her battered frame was in sore need of rest, but with her usual +unselfishness, she resumed some of her old duties as soon as possible, +that Olive might not feel overburdened.</p> + +<p>'It seems as though I have been idle for such a long time,' she said, in +answer to Dr. Heriot's deprecating glance at the mending beside her; +'Olive has no time now, and these things are more troublesome to her +than to most people. To-morrow I mean to take to housekeeping again, for +Polly feels herself quite unable to manage Nan.'</p> + +<p>Dr. Heriot shook his head, but he did not directly forbid the +experiment. He knew that to a person of Mildred's active habits, +anything approaching to indolence was a positive crime; it was better +for them both that she should assert that she was well, and that he +should be free to relax his vigilance; he could still watch over her, +and interfere when it became necessary to do so.</p> + +<p>Mildred had reason to be thankful that he did not oppose her exertions, +for before long fresh work came to her.</p> + +<p>The very morning after Dr. Heriot had withdrawn his silent protest, a +letter in a strange handwriting was laid beside Mildred's +breakfast-plate; the postmark was London, and she opened it in some +little surprise; but Polly, who was watching her, noticed that she +turned pale over the contents.</p> + +<p>'Is it about Roy?' she whispered; and Mildred started.</p> + +<p>'Yes, he has been ill,' and she looked at her brother doubtfully; but he +stretched out his hand for the letter, and read it in silence.</p> + +<p>Polly watched them anxiously.</p> + +<p>'He is not very ill, Aunt Milly?'</p> + +<p>'Not now; but I greatly fear he has been so. Mrs. Madison writes that it +was a neglected cold, with a sharp attack of inflammation, but that the +inflammation has subsided; he is terribly weak, and needs nursing, and +the doctor insists that his friends should be informed.'</p> + +<p>'But Dad Fabian is with him?'</p> + +<p>'No, he is quite alone. The strangest part is that he would not suffer +her to write to us. I suppose he dreaded our alarm.'</p> + +<p>'It was wrong—very wrong,' groaned Mr. Lambert; 'his brother not with +him, and he away from us all that distance; Mildred, my dear, you must +go to him without delay.'</p> + +<p>Mildred smiled faintly; she thought her strength was small for such a +long journey, but she did not say so. Anxiety for his son had driven the +remembrance of her accident from his mind; a slight attack of rheumatic +gout, to which he had been subject of late years, prevented him from +undertaking the journey as he wished.</p> + +<p>'You will go, my dear, will you not?' he pleaded, anxiously.</p> + +<p>'If Aunt Milly goes, I must go to take care of her,' broke in Polly.</p> + +<p>Her face was pale, her eyes dilated with excitement. Olive looked on +wistfully, but said nothing; it was never her way to thrust herself +forward on any occasion, and however much she wished to help Mildred in +nursing Roy, she did not drop a hint to the effect; but Mildred was not +slow to interpret the wistfulness.</p> + +<p>'It is Olive's place to nurse her brother,' she said, with a trace of +reproof in her voice; but though Polly grew crimson she still persisted.</p> + +<p>I did not mean that—you know I did not, Aunt Milly!' a little +indignantly. 'I only thought I could wait on you, and save you trouble, +and then when he was better I could——' but her lip quivered, and when +the others looked up, expecting her to finish her sentence, she suddenly +and most unexpectedly burst into tears, and left the room.</p> + +<p>Olive followed Mildred when she rose from the breakfast-table.</p> + +<p>'Aunt Milly, do let her go. Poor Polly! she looks so miserable.'</p> + +<p>'It is not to be thought of for a moment,' returned Mildred, with +unusual decision; 'if no one but Polly can accompany me, I shall go +alone.'</p> + +<p>'But Polly is so fond of Roy,' pleaded Olive; timid with regard to +herself, she could persist with more boldness on another's behalf. 'Roy +would not care for me half so much as he would for her; when he had that +feverish cold last year, no one seemed to please him but Polly. Do let +her go, Aunt Milly,' continued the generous-hearted girl. 'I do not mind +being left. If Roy is worse I could come to you,' and Olive spoke with +the curious choke in her voice that showed strong emotion.</p> + +<p>Mildred looked touched, but she remained firm. Little did Olive guess +her reasons.</p> + +<p>'I could not allow it for one moment, Olive. I think,' hesitating a +little, as though sure of inflicting pain, 'that I ought to go alone, +unless Roy is very ill. I do not see how your father is to be left; he +might have another attack, and Richard is not here.'</p> + +<p>'I forgot papa,' in a conscience-stricken tone. 'I am always forgetting +something.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, and yourself in the bargain,' smiling at her earnest +self-depreciation.</p> + +<p>'No, please don't laugh, Aunt Milly, it was dreadfully careless of +me—what should we all do without you to remind us of things? Of course +papa must be my first thought, unless—unless dear Rex is very ill,' and +a flush of pain passed over Olive's sallow face.</p> + +<p>Mildred melted over this fresh instance of Olive's unselfish goodness; +she wrapped her arms fondly round the girl.</p> + +<p>'Dear Olive, this is so good of you!'</p> + +<p>'No, it is only my duty,' but the tears started to her eyes.</p> + +<p>'If I did not think it were, I would not have proposed it,' she +returned, reluctantly; 'but you know how little care your father takes +of himself, and then he will fret so about Roy when Richard is away. I +never like to leave him.'</p> + +<p>'Do not say any more, Aunt Milly; nothing but real positive danger to +Roy would induce me to leave him.'</p> + +<p>'No, I knew I could trust you,' drawing a relieved breath; 'but, indeed, +I have no such fear for Rex. Mrs. Madison says it was only a slight +attack of inflammation, and that it has quite subsided. He will be +dreadfully weak, of course, and that is why the doctor has sent for us; +he will want weeks of nursing.'</p> + +<p>'And you will not take Polly or Chriss. Remember how far from strong you +are, and Rex is so exacting when he is ill.'</p> + +<p>'Chriss would be no use to me, and Polly's place is here,' was Mildred's +quiet answer as she went on with her preparations for the next day's +journey; but she little knew of the tenacity with which Polly clave to +her purpose.</p> + +<p>When Dr. Heriot came in that afternoon for his last professional chat +with Mildred, he found her looking open-eyed and anxious in the midst of +business, reading out a list for Olive, who was writing patiently from +her dictation; Polly was crouched up by the fire doing nothing; she had +not spoken to any one since the morning; she hardly raised her head when +he came in.</p> + +<p>Mildred explained the reason of their unusual bustle in her clear, +succinct way. Roy was ill, how ill she could not say. Mr. Lambert had +had a touch of gout last night, and dared not run the risk of a journey +just now. Olive must stop with her father, at least for the present; and +as Chriss was too young to be of the least possible use, she was going +alone. Polly's name was not mentioned. Dr. Heriot looked blank at the +tidings.</p> + +<p>'Alone, and in your state of health! why, where is Polly? she is a +capital nurse; she is worth a score of others; she will keep up your +spirits, save you fatigue, and cheer up Roy in his convalescence.'</p> + +<p>'You cannot spare her; Polly's place is here,' replied Mildred, +nervously; but to her surprise Polly interrupted her.</p> + +<p>'That is not the reason, Aunt Milly.'</p> + +<p>'My dear Polly!' exclaimed Dr. Heriot, amazed at the contradiction.</p> + +<p>'No, it is not, and she knows it,' returned the girl, excitedly; 'ask +her, Heriot; look at her; that is not the reason she will not suffer me +to go to Roy.'</p> + +<p>Mildred turned her burning face bravely on the two.</p> + +<p>'Whatever reasons I have, Polly knows me well enough to respect them,' +she said, with dignity; 'it is far better for Roy that his aunt or his +sister should be with him. Polly ought to know that her place is beside +you.'</p> + +<p>'Aunt Milly, how dare you speak so,' cried the girl, hotly, 'as though +Roy were not my own—own brother. Have we not cared for each other ever +since I came here a lonely stranger; do you think he will get better if +he is fretting, and knows why you have left me behind; when he was ill +in the summer, would he have any one to wait on him but me?'</p> + +<p>'Oh, Polly,' began Mildred, sorrowfully, for the girl's petulance and +obstinacy were new to her; but Dr. Heriot stopped her.</p> + +<p>'Let the child speak,' he said, quietly; 'she has never been perverse to +you before; she has something on her mind, or she would not talk so.'</p> + +<p>The kind voice, the unexpected sympathy, touched Polly's sore heart; and +as he held out his hand to her, she crept out of her dark corner. He +drew her gently to his side.</p> + +<p>'Now, Polly, what is it? there is something here that I do not +understand—out with it like a brave lassie.'</p> + +<p>But she hung her head.</p> + +<p>'Not now, not here, before the others,' she whispered, and with that he +rose from his seat, but he still kept hold of her hand.</p> + +<p>'Polly is going to make a clean breast of it; I am to hear her +confession,' he said, with a cheerfulness that reassured Mildred. 'There +is no time like the present. I mean to bring her back by and by, and +then we will make our apologies together.'</p> + +<p>Mildred sighed as the door closed after them; she would fain have known +what passed between them; her heart grew heavy with foreboding as time +elapsed and they did not make their appearance. When her business was +finished, and Olive had left her, she sat for more than half an hour +with her eyes fixed on the door, feeling as though she could bear the +suspense no longer.</p> + +<p>She started painfully when the valves unclosed.</p> + +<p>'We have been longer than I expected,' began Dr. Heriot.</p> + +<p>His face was grave, and Mildred fancied his eyes looked troubled. Polly +had been crying.</p> + +<p>'It was a rambling confession, and one difficult to understand,' he +continued, keeping the girl near him, and Mildred noticed she leant her +face caressingly against his coat-sleeve, as she stood there; 'and it +goes back to the day of our picnic at Hillbeck.'</p> + +<p>Mildred moved uneasily; there was something reproachful in his glance +directed towards herself; she averted her eyes, and he went on—</p> + +<p>'It seems you were all agreed in keeping me in the dark; you had your +reasons, of course, but it appears to me as though I ought to have been +the first to hear of Roy's visit,' and there was a marked emphasis in +his words that made Mildred still more uncomfortable. 'I do not wish to +blame you; you acted for the best, of course, and I own the case a +difficult one; it is only a pity that my little girl should have +considered it her duty to keep anything from me.'</p> + +<p>'I told him it was Roy's secret, not mine,' murmured Polly, and he +placed his hand kindly on her head.</p> + +<p>'I do not see how she could have acted otherwise,' returned Mildred, +rather indistinctly.</p> + +<p>'No, I am more inclined to blame her advisers than herself,' was the +somewhat cool response; 'mysteries are bad things between engaged +people. Polly kept a copy of her letter to show me, but she never found +courage to do so until to-night, and yet she is quite aware what are +Roy's feelings towards her.'</p> + +<p>Mildred's voice had a sound of dismay in it—</p> + +<p>'Oh, Polly! then you have deceived me too.'</p> + +<p>'You have no reason to say so,' returned the girl, proudly, but her +heart swelled over her words; 'it was that—that letter, and your +silence, that told me, Aunt Milly; but I could not—it was not possible +to say it either to you or to Dr. Heriot.'</p> + +<p>'You see it was hard for her, poor child,' was his indulgent comment; +'but you might have helped her; you might have told me yourself, Miss +Lambert.'</p> + +<p>But Mildred repelled the accusation firmly.</p> + +<p>'It was no business of yours, Dr. Heriot, or Polly's either, that Roy +loved her. Richard and I were right to guard it; it was his own secret, +his own trouble. Polly would never have known but for her own +wilfulness.'</p> + +<p>'Yes I should, Aunt Milly; I should have found it out from his silence,' +returned Polly, with downcast eyes. 'I could not forget his changed +looks; they troubled me more than you know. I puzzled myself over them +till I was dizzy. I felt heart-broken when I found it out, but I could +not have told Heriot.'</p> + +<p>'It would have been better for us both if you had,' he replied, calmly; +but he uttered no further reproach, only there was a keen troubled look +in his eyes, as he gazed at the girl's upturned face, as though he +suddenly dreaded the loss of something dear to him.</p> + +<p>'Heartsease, it would have been better for you and me.'</p> + +<p>'Heriot, what do you mean?' she whispered, vehemently; 'surely you did +not misunderstand me; you could not doubt the sincerity of my words, my +love?'</p> + +<p>'Neither the one nor the other,' was the quiet reply; 'do I not know my +Polly? could I not trust that guileless integrity as I would my own? You +need not fear my misunderstanding you; I know you but too well.'</p> + +<p>'Are you sure that you do?' clinging to him more closely.</p> + +<p>'Am I sure that I am alive? No, Polly, I do not doubt you; when you tell +me that you love Roy as though he were your own brother, that you are +only sorry for him, and long to comfort him, I believe you. I am as sure +that you speak the truth as you know it.'</p> + +<p>'And you will trust me?' stroking the coat-sleeve as she spoke.</p> + +<p>'Have I not told you so?' reproachfully; 'am I a tyrant to keep you in +durance vile, when your adopted brother lies dangerously ill, and you +assure me of your power to minister to him? Miss Lambert, it is by my +own wish that Polly goes with you to London; she thinks Roy will not get +well unless he sees her again.'</p> + +<p>Mildred started. Polly had kept her thoughts so much to herself lately +that she had not understood how much was passing in her mind; did she +really believe that her influence was so great over Roy, that her +persuasion would recall him from the brink of the grave? Could Dr. +Heriot credit such a supposition? was not the risk a daring one? He +could not be so sure of himself and her; but looking up, as these +thoughts passed through her mind, she encountered such a singular glance +from Dr. Heriot that her colour involuntarily rose; it told her he +understood her scruples, but that his motives were fixed, inscrutable; +it forbade questioning, and urged compliance with his wishes, and after +that there was nothing more to be said.</p> + +<p>But in the course of the evening Polly volunteered still further +information—</p> + +<p>'You know he is going with us himself,' she said, as she followed +Mildred into her room to assist in the packing.</p> + +<p>Mildred very nearly dropped the armful of things she was carrying, a +pile of Roy's shirts she had been mending; she faced round on Polly with +unusual energy—</p> + +<p>'Who is going with us? Not Dr. Heriot?'</p> + +<p>'Yes; did he not tell you so? I heard him speaking to Mr. Lambert and +saying that you were not fit to undertake such a long journey by +yourself; he did not count me, as he knew I should lose my head in the +bustle; very rude of him, was it not? and then he told Mr. Lambert that +he should see Roy and bring him back a report. Oh, I am so glad he is +coming,' speaking more to herself than Mildred; 'how good, how good he +is.'</p> + +<p>Mildred did not answer; but after supper that night, when Dr. Heriot had +again joined them, she asked if he had really made up his mind to +accompany them.</p> + +<p>'You did not tell me of your intention,' she said, a little nettled at +his reserve with her.</p> + +<p>'No; I was afraid of your raising objections and raising all sorts of +useless arguments; regret that I should take so much trouble, and so +forth,' trying to turn it off with a jest.</p> + +<p>'Are you going on Roy's account?' abruptly.</p> + +<p>'Well, not wholly. Of course his medical man's report will be +sufficient; but all the same it will be a relief to his father's mind.'</p> + +<p>'I suppose you are afraid to trust Polly with me then? but indeed I will +take care of her; there is no need for you to undergo such a fatiguing +journey,' went on Mildred, pretending to misunderstand him, but anxious +if possible to turn him from his purpose.</p> + +<p>But Dr. Heriot's cool amused survey baffled her.</p> + +<p>'A man has a right to his own reasons, I suppose? Perhaps I think one of +my patients is hardly able to look after herself just yet.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, Dr. Heriot!' hardly able to believe it though from his own lips; +'this is so like you—so like your usual thoughtfulness; but indeed it +is not necessary; Polly will take care of me.'</p> + +<p>'I daresay she will,' with a glint of humour in his eyes; 'but all the +same you must put up with my company.'</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX</h2> + +<h3>THE COTTAGE AT FROGNAL</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">'Whose soft voice<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should be the sweetest music to his ear.'—<span class="smcap">Bethune.</span><br /></span> +</div></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>The journey was accomplished with less difficulty and fatigue than +Mildred had dared to expect.</p> + +<p>Dr. Heriot's attentions were undemonstrative but unceasing. For a +greater part of the way Mildred lay back amongst her snug wrappings, +talking little, but enjoying to the full the novelty of being the object +of so much care and thought. 'He is kind to everybody, and now he has +taken all this trouble for me,' she said to herself; 'it is so like +him—so like his goodness.'</p> + +<p>They were a very quiet party. Dr. Heriot was unusually silent, and Polly +sat watching the scenery and flying milestones with half-dreamy +absorption. When darkness came on, she nestled down by Mildred's side. +From his corner of the carriage, Dr. Heriot secretly peered at the faces +before him, under the guttering oil-lamp. Mildred's eyes had closed at +last from weariness; her thin cheek was pressed on the dark cushion. In +spite of the worn lines, the outline of the face struck him as strangely +fair; a fine nature was written there in indelible characters; even in +the abandonment of utter weariness, the mouth had not relaxed its firm +sweet curve; a chastened will had gradually smoothed the furrows from +the brow; it was as smooth and open as a sleeping child, and yet youth +had no part there; its tints and roundness had long ago fled.</p> + +<p>How had it been that Polly's piquant charms had blinded him? As he +looked at her now, half-lovingly, half-sadly, he owned that she could +not be otherwise than pretty in his eyes, and yet the illusion was +dispelled; but even as the thought passed through his mind, Polly's dark +eyes unclosed.</p> + +<p>'Are we near London? oh, how tired I am!' she said, with a weary, +petulant sigh. 'I cannot sleep like Aunt Milly; and the darkness and the +swinging make me giddy. One can only see great blanks of mist and +rushing walls, and red eyes blinking everywhere.'</p> + +<p>Dr. Heriot smiled over the girl's discontent. 'You will see the lights +of the station in another ten minutes. Poor little Heartsease. You are +tired and cold and anxious, and we have still a long drive before us.'</p> + +<p>'It has not been so long after all,' observed Mildred, cheerfully. She +did not feel cold or particularly tired; pleasant dreams had come to +her; some thoughtful hand had drawn the fur-lined rug round her as she +slept. As they jolted out of the light station and into the dark Euston +Road beyond, she sat thoughtful and silent, reviewing the work that lay +before her.</p> + +<p>It was late in the evening when the travellers reached the little +cottage at Frognal. Roy had taken a fancy to the place, and had migrated +thither the previous summer, in company with a young artist named +Dugald.</p> + +<p>It was a low, old-fashioned house, somewhat shabby-looking by daylight, +but standing back from the road, with a pleasant strip of garden lying +round it, and an invisible walk formed of stunted, prickly shrubs, which +had led its owner to give it the name of 'The Hollies.'</p> + +<p>Roy had fallen in love with the straggling lawn and mulberry trees, and +beds of old-fashioned flowers. He declared the peonies, hollyhocks, and +lupins, and small violet-and-yellow pansies, reminded him of +Castlesteads Vicarage; for it was well known that Mr. Delaware clave +with fondness to the flowers of his childhood, and was much given to +cultivate all manner of herbs, to be used medicinally by the poor of the +neighbourhood.</p> + +<p>A certain long, low room, with an out-of-the-way window, was declared to +have the north light, and to be just the thing for a studio, and was +shared conjointly by the young artists, who also took their frugal meals +together, and smoked their pipes in a dilapidated arbour overlooking the +mulberry-tree.</p> + +<p>Mildred knew that Herbert Dugald was at the present moment in Mentone, +called thither by the alarming illness of his father, and that his room +had been placed at Roy's disposal. The cottage was a large one, and she +thought there would be little difficulty in accommodating Polly and +herself; and as Mrs. Madison had no other lodgers, they could count on a +tolerable amount of quiet and comfort; and in spite of the quaintness +and homeliness of the arrangements, they found this to be the case.</p> + +<p>Dr. Heriot had telegraphed their probable arrival, so they were not +unexpected. Mrs. Madison, an artist's widow herself, welcomed them with +unfeigned delight; her pleasant, sensible Scotch face broadened with +smiles as she came forward to meet them.</p> + +<p>'Eh, he's better, poor lad, though I never thought to say it,' she said, +answering Mildred's anxious look. 'He would not let me write, as I +wished, for fear of alarming his father, he said; but as soon as the +letter was posted, he made me telegraph for his brother; he arrived last +evening.'</p> + +<p>'Richard!' ejaculated Mildred, feeling things were worse than even she +had expected; but at that moment Richard appeared, gently closing the +door behind him.</p> + +<p>'Hush! he knows you are here;—you, I mean, Aunt Milly,' perceiving +Polly now, with some surprise; 'but we must be very careful. Last night +I thought we should have lost him. Ah, Dr. John, how good of you to +bring them! Come in here; we expected you, you see, Aunt Milly,' and he +led them into poor Roy's sitting-room.</p> + +<p>There was a blazing fire in the studio; the white china tiles reflected +a pleasant glow and heat; the heavy draperies that veiled the +cross-lights looked snug and dark; tea was on the little round table; a +large old-fashioned couch stood, inviting, near. Richard took off +Mildred's bonnet and hung it on an empty easel; Polly's furs found a +place on a wonderfully carved oak-chest.</p> + +<p>There was all the usual lumber belonging to a studio. Richard, in an +interval of leisure, had indeed cleared away a heterogeneous rubbish of +pipes, boxing-gloves, and foils, but the upper part of the room was a +perfect chaos of portfolios, books, and musical instruments, the little +square piano literally groaned under the dusty records; still there was +a wide space of comfort round the tiled fireplace, where all manner of +nursery tales leaped into existence under the kindling flame, with just +enough confusion to be quaint and picturesque.</p> + +<p>Neither Mildred nor Polly found fault with the suit of armour and the +carved chair, that was good for everything but to sit upon; the plaster +busts and sham bronzes struck them as beautiful; the old red velvet +curtain had an imposing effect, as well as the shreds and scraps of +colour introduced everywhere. Roy's velvet coat and gold-tasselled +smoking-cap lay side by side with an old Venetian garment, stiff with +embroidery and dirt. Polly touched it caressingly as she passed.</p> + +<p>Mildred's eyes had noted all these surroundings while she sat down on +the couch where Roy had tossed for so many, many days, and let Richard +wait on her; but her anxious looks still mutely questioned him.</p> + +<p>'You shall go in and see him directly you are rested and have had some +tea,' said Richard, busily occupying himself with the little black +kettle. 'He heard your bell, and made a sign to me to come to you; he +has been wishing for you all night, poor fellow; but it was his own +fault, telegraphing to me instead.'</p> + +<p>'You look fagged, Cardie; and no wonder—it must have been dreadful for +you alone.'</p> + +<p>'Mrs. Madison was with me. I would not have been without her; she is a +capital nurse, whatever Rex may say. At one time I got alarmed; the pain +in the side increased, and the distressed breathing was painful to hear, +the pulse reaching to a great height. I fancied once or twice that he +was a little light-headed.'</p> + +<p>'Very probably,' returned Dr. Heriot, gravely, placing himself quietly +between Mildred and the fire, as she shielded her face from the flame. +'I cannot understand how such a state of things should be. I always +thought Roy's a tolerably sound constitution; nothing ever seemed to +give him cold.'</p> + +<p>'He has never been right since he was laid up with his foot,' replied +Richard, with a slight hesitation in his manner. 'He did foolish things, +Mrs. Madison told me: took long walks after painting-hours in the fog +and rain, and on more than one occasion forgot to change his wet things. +She noticed he had a cold and cough, and tried once or twice to dissuade +him from venturing out in the damp, but he only laughed at her +precautions. I am afraid he has been very reckless,' finished Richard, +with a sigh, which Dr. Heriot echoed. Alas! he understood too well the +cause of Roy's recklessness.</p> + +<p>Polly had been shrinking into a corner all this time, her cheeks paling +with every word; but now Dr. Heriot, without apparently noticing her +agitation, placed her in a great arm-chair beside the table, and +insisted that she should make tea for them all.</p> + +<p>'We have reason to be thankful that the inflammation has subsided,' he +said, gravely. 'From what Richard tells us he has certainly run a great +risk, but I must see him and judge for myself.' And as Richard looked +doubtfully at Mildred, he continued, decidedly, 'You need not fear that +my presence will harass or excite him, if he be as ill as you describe. +I will take the responsibility of the act on myself.'</p> + +<p>'It will be a great relief to my mind, I confess,' replied Richard, in a +low voice. 'I like Dr. Blenkinsop, but still a second opinion would be a +great satisfaction to all of us; and then, you know him so well.'</p> + +<p>'Are you sure it will not be a risk?' whispered Polly, as he stood +beside her. She slid a hot little hand into his as she spoke, 'Heriot, +are you sure it will be wise?'</p> + +<p>'Trust me,' was his sole reply; but the look that accompanied it might +well reassure her, it was so full of pity for her and Roy; it seemed to +say that he so perfectly understood her, that as far as in him lay he +would take care of them both.</p> + +<p>Poor Polly! she spent a forlorn half-hour when the others had left; +strange terrors oppressed her; a gnawing pain, for which she knew no +words, fevered and kept her restless.</p> + +<p>What if Roy should die? What if the dear companion of her thoughts, and +hopes, should suddenly be snatched from them in the first fervour of +youth? Would she ever cease to reproach herself that she had so +misunderstood him? Would not the consequences of his unhappy +recklessness (ah, they little knew how they stabbed her there) lie +heavily on her head, however innocent she might own herself?</p> + +<p>Perhaps in his boyish way he had wooed her, and she had failed to +comprehend his wooing. How many times he had told her that she was +dearer to him than Olive and Chriss, that she was the sunshine of his +home, that he cared for nothing unless Polly shared it; and she had +smiled happily over such evidence of his affection.</p> + +<p>Had she ever understood him?</p> + +<p>She remembered once that he had brought her some trinket that had +pleased his fancy, and insisted on her always wearing it for his sake, +and she had remonstrated with him on its costliness.</p> + +<p>'You must not spend all your money on me, Rex. It is not right,' she had +said to him more seriously than usual; 'you know how Aunt Milly objects +to extravagance; and then it will make the others jealous, you know. I +am not your sister—not your real sister, I mean.'</p> + +<p>'If you were, I should not have bought you this,' he had answered, +laughing, and clasping it with boyish force on her arm. 'Polly, what a +child you are! when will you be grown up?' and there was an expression +in his eyes that she had not understood.</p> + +<p>A hundred such remembrances seemed crowding upon her, Would other girls +have been as blind in her place? Would they not have more rightly +interpreted the loving looks and words that of late he had lavished upon +her? Doubtless in his own way he had been wooing her, but no such +thought had entered her mind, never till she had heard his bitter words, +'You are Heriot's now, Polly,' had she even vaguely comprehended his +meaning.</p> + +<p>And now she had gone near to break his heart and her own too, for if Roy +should die, she verily believed that hers would be broken by the sheer +weight of remorseful pity. Ah, if he would only live, and she might care +for him as though he were her own brother, how happy they might be +still, for Polly's heart was still loyal to her guardian. But this +suspense was not to be borne, and, unable to control her restlessness +any longer, Polly moved with cautious steps across the room, and peeped +fearfully into the dark passage.</p> + +<p>She knew exactly where Roy's room was. He had often described to her the +plan of the cottage. Across the passage was a little odd-shaped room, +full of cupboards, which was Mrs. Madison's sitting-room. The kitchen +was behind, and to the left there was a small garden-room where the +young men kept their boots, and all manner of miscellaneous rubbish, in +company with Mrs. Madison's geraniums and cases of stuffed birds.</p> + +<p>A few winding, crooked stairs led to Roy's room; Mr. Dugald's was a few +steps higher; beyond, there was a perfect nest of rooms hidden down a +dark passage; there were old musty cupboards everywhere; a clear scent +of dry lavender pervaded the upper regions; a swinging lamp burnt dimly +in a sort of alcove leading to Roy's room. As Polly groped her way +cautiously, a short, yapping sound was distinctly audible, and a little +black-and-tan terrier came from somewhere.</p> + +<p>Polly knelt down and coaxed the creature to approach: she knew it was +Sue, Roy's dog, whom he had rescued from drowning; but the animal only +whined and shivered, and went back to her lair, outside her master's +door.</p> + +<p>'Sue is more faithful to him than I,' thought the girl, with a sigh. The +studio seemed more cheerful than the dark, cold passage. Sue's repulse +had saddened her still more. When Dr. Heriot returned some time +afterwards, he found her curled up in the great arm-chair, with her face +buried in her hands, not crying, as he feared, but with pale cheeks and +wide distended eyes that he was troubled to see.</p> + +<p>'My poor Polly,' smoothing her hair caressingly.</p> + +<p>Polly sprang up.</p> + +<p>'Oh, Heriot, how long you have been. I have been so frightened; is +he—will he live?' the stammering lips not disguising the terrible +anxiety.</p> + +<p>'There is no doubt of it; but he has been very ill. No, my dear child, +you need not fear I shall misunderstand you,' as Polly tried to hide her +happy face, every feature quivering with the joyful relief. 'You cannot +be too thankful, too glad, for he has had a narrow escape. Aunt Milly +will have her hands full for some time.'</p> + +<p>'I thought if he died that it would be my fault,' she faltered, 'and +then I could not have borne it.'</p> + +<p>'Yes—yes—I know,' he returned, soothingly; 'but now this fear is +removed, you will be our Heartsease again, and cheer us all up. I cannot +bear to see your bright face clouded. You will be yourself again, Polly, +will you not?'</p> + +<p>'I will try,' she returned, lifting up her face to be kissed like a +child. She had never but once offered him the most timid caress, and +this maidenly reserve and shyness had been sweet to him; but now he told +himself it was different. Alas! he knew her better than she knew +herself, and there was sadness in his looks, as he gently bade her +good-night. She detained him with some surprise. 'Where are you going, +Heriot? you know there is plenty of room; Richard said so.'</p> + +<p>'I shall watch in Roy's room to-night,' he replied. 'Richard looks worn +out, and Aunt Milly must recruit after her journey. I shall not leave +till the middle of the day to-morrow, so we shall have plenty of time to +talk. You must rest now.'</p> + +<p>'Are you going away to-morrow?' repeated Polly, looking blank. 'I—I had +hoped you would stay.'</p> + +<p>'My child, that would be impossible; but Richard will remain for a few +days longer. I will promise to come back as soon as I can.'</p> + +<p>'But—but if you leave me—oh, you must not leave me, Heriot,' returned +the girl, with sudden inexplicable emotion; 'what shall I do without +you?'</p> + +<p>'Have I grown so necessary to you all at once?' he returned, and there +was an accent of reproach in his voice. 'Nay, Polly, this is not like +your sensible little self; you know I must go back to my patients.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, I know; but all the same I cannot bear to let you go; promise me +that you will come back soon—very soon—before Roy gets much better.'</p> + +<p>'I will not leave you longer than I can help,' he replied, earnestly, +distressed at her evident pain at losing him, but steadfast in his +purpose to leave her unfettered by his presence. 'Now, sweet one, you +must not detain me any longer, as to-night I am Roy's nurse,' and with +that she let him leave her.</p> + +<p>There was a bright fire in the room where Mildred and she were to sleep. +When Mrs. Madison had lighted the tall candle-sticks on the mantelpiece, +and left her to finish her unpacking, Polly tried to amuse herself by +imagining what Olive would think of it all.</p> + +<p>It was a long, low room, with a corner cut off. All the rooms at The +Hollies were low and oddly shaped, but the great four-post bed, with the +moreen hangings, half filled it.</p> + +<p>As far as curiosities went, it might have resembled either the upper +half of a pawnbroker's window, or a medięval corner in some shop in +Wardour Street—such a medley of odds and ends were never found in one +room. A great, black, carved wardrobe, which Roy was much given to rave +about in his letters home, occupied one side; two or three +spindle-legged and much dilapidated chairs, dating from Queen Anne's +time, with an oaken chest, filled up all available space; but wardrobe, +mantelpiece, and even washstand, served as receptacles for the more +ornamental objects.</p> + +<p>Peacocks' feathers and an Indian canoe were suspended over the dim +little oblong glass. Underneath, a Japanese idol smiled fiendishly; the +five senses, and sundry china shepherdesses, danced round him like +wood-nymphs round a satyr; a teapot, a hunting-watch, and an emu's egg +garnished the toilet-table; over which hung a sampler, worked by Mrs. +Madison's grandmother; two little girls in wide sashes, with a +long-eared dog, simpered in wool-work; a portrait of some Madison +deceased, in a short-waisted tartan satin, and a velvet hat and +feathers, hung over them.</p> + +<p>The face attracted Polly in spite of the grotesque dress and ridiculous +headgear—the feathers would have enriched a hearse; under the funeral +plumes smiled a face still young and pleasant—it gave one the +impression of a fresh healthy nature; the ruddy cheeks and buxom arms, +with plenty of soft muscle, would have become a dairymaid.</p> + +<p>'I wonder,' mused the girl, with a sort of sorrowful humour, 'who this +Clarice was—Mrs. Madison's grandmother or great-grandmother most +likely, for of course she married—that broad, smiling face could not +belong to an old maid; she was some squire or farmer's wife most likely, +and he bought her that hat in London when they went up to see the Green +Parks, and St. James's, and Greenwich Hospital, and Vauxhall,—she had a +double chin, and got dreadfully stout, I know, before she was forty. And +I wonder,' she continued, with unconscious pathos, 'if this Clarice +liked the squire, or farmer, or whatever he may be, as I like Heriot. Or +if, when she was young, she had an adopted brother who gave her pain; +she looks as though she never knew what it was to be unhappy or sorry +about anything.'</p> + +<p>Polly's fanciful musings were broken presently by Mildred's entrance; +she accosted the girl cheerfully, but there was no mistaking her pale, +harassed looks.</p> + +<p>'It is nearly twelve, you ought not to have waited for me, my dear; +there was so much to do—and then Richard kept me.'</p> + +<p>'Where is Richard?' asked Polly, abruptly.</p> + +<p>'He has gone to bed; he is to have Mr. Dugald's room. Dr. Heriot is +sitting up with Roy.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, I know. Oh, Aunt Milly, he says there is no doubt of his living; +the inflammation has subsided, and with care he has every hope of him.'</p> + +<p>'Thank God! He will tell his father so; we none of us knew of his danger +till it was past, and so we were saved Richard's terrible suspense; he +has been telling me about it. I never saw him more cut up about +anything—it was a sharper attack than we believed.'</p> + +<p>'Could he speak to you, Aunt Milly?'</p> + +<p>'Only a word or two, and those hardly audible; the breathing is still so +oppressed that we dare not let him try—but he made me a sign to kiss +him, and once he took hold of my hand; he likes to see us there.'</p> + +<p>'He did not mind Dr. Heriot, then?' and Polly turned to the fire to hide +her sudden flush, but Mildred did not notice it.</p> + +<p>'He seemed a little agitated, I thought, but Dr. Heriot soon succeeded +in calming him; he managed beautifully. I am sure Roy likes having him, +though once or twice he looked pained—at least, I fancied so; but you +have no idea what Dr. Heriot is in a sickroom,' and Mildred paused in +some emotion.</p> + +<p>She felt it was impossible to describe to Polly the skilful tenderness +with which he had tended Roy; the pleasant cordiality which had evaded +awkwardness, the exquisite sympathy that dealt only with present +suffering; no, it could only be stored sacredly in her memory, as a +thing never to be forgotten.</p> + +<p>The girl drooped her head as Mildred spoke.</p> + +<p>'I am finding out more every day what he is, but one will never come to +the bottom of his goodness,' she said, humbly. 'Aunt Milly, I feel more +and more how unworthy I am of him,' and she rested her head against +Mildred and wept.</p> + +<p>There was a weary ring in Mildred's voice as she answered her.</p> + +<p>'He would not like to hear you speak so despairingly of his choice; you +must make yourself worthy of him, dear Polly.'</p> + +<p>'I will try—I do try, till I get heart-sick over my failures. I know +when he is disappointed, or thinks me silly; he gives me one of his +quiet looks that seem to read one through and through, and then all my +courage goes. I do so long to tell him sometimes that he must be +satisfied with me just as I am, that I shall never get wiser or better, +that I shall always be Polly, and nothing more.'</p> + +<p>'Only his precious little Heartsease!'</p> + +<p>'No,' she returned, sighing, 'I fear that has gone too. I feel so sore +and unhappy about all this. Does he—does Roy know I am here?'</p> + +<p>'No, no, not yet; he is hardly strong enough to bear any excitement. It +will be very dull for you, my child, for you will not even have my +company.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, I shall not mind it—not much, I mean,' returned Polly, stoutly.</p> + +<p>But, nevertheless, her heart sank at the prospect before her; she would +not see him perhaps for weeks, she would only see Mildred by snatches, +she would be debarred from Dr. Heriot's society; it was a dreary thought +for the affectionate girl, but her resolution did not falter, things +would look brighter by the morning light as Mildred told her, and she +fell asleep, planning occupation for her solitary days.</p> + +<p>Dr. Heriot's watch had been a satisfactory one, and he was able to +report favourably of the invalid. Roy still suffered greatly from the +accelerated and oppressed breathing and distressing cough, but the +restlessness and fever had abated, and towards morning he had enjoyed +some refreshing sleep, and he was able to leave him more comfortably to +Mildred and Richard.</p> + +<p>He took Polly for a long walk after breakfast, which greatly brightened +the girl's spirits, after which Richard and he had a long talk while +pacing the lawn under the mulberry trees; both of them looked somewhat +pale and excited when they came in, and Richard especially seemed deeply +moved.</p> + +<p>Polly moped somewhat after Dr. Heriot's departure, but Richard was very +kind to her, and gave her all his leisure time; but he was obliged to +return to Oxford before many days were over.</p> + +<p>Polly had need of all her courage then, but she bore her solitude +bravely, and resorted to many ingenious experiments to fill up the hours +that hung so heavily on her hands. She wrote daily letters to Olive and +Dr. Heriot, kept the studio in dainty order, gathered little inviting +bouquets for the sickroom, and helped Mrs. Madison to concoct invalid +messes.</p> + +<p>By and by, as she grew more skilful, all Roy's food was dressed by her +hands. Polly would arrange the tray with fastidious taste, and carry it +up herself to the alcove in defiance of all Mildred's warnings.</p> + +<p>'I will step so lightly that he cannot possibly recognise my footsteps, +and I always wear velvet slippers now,' she said, pleadingly; and +Mildred, not liking to damp the girl's innocent pleasure, withdrew the +remonstrance in spite of her better judgment.</p> + +<p>Dr. Heriot had strictly prohibited Polly's visits to the sickroom for +the present, as he feared the consequences of any great excitement in +Roy's weakened condition. Polly would stand listening to the low weak +tones, speaking a word or two at intervals, and Mildred's cheerful voice +answering him; now and then the terrible cough seemed to shatter him, +and there would be long deathlike silences; when Polly could bear it no +longer, she would put on her hat, coaxing Sue to follow her, and take +long walks down the Finchley Road or over Hampstead Heath.</p> + +<p>There was a little stile near The Hollies where she loved to linger; +below her lay the fields and the long, dusty road; all manner of lights +gleamed through the twilight, the dark lane lay behind her; passers-by +marvelled at the girl standing there in her soft furs with the dog lying +at her feet; the air was full of warm dampness, a misty moon hung over +the leafless trees.</p> + +<p>'I wonder what Heriot is doing,' she would say to herself; 'his letters +are beautiful—just what I expected; they refresh me to read them; how +can he care for mine in return, as he says he does! Roy liked them, but +then——'</p> + +<p>Here Polly broke off with a shiver, and Sue growled at a dark figure +coming up the field-path.</p> + +<p>'Come, Sue, your master will want his tea,' cried the girl, waking up +from her vague musings, 'and no one but Polly shall get it for him. Aunt +Milly says he always praises Mrs. Madison's cookery;' and she quickened +her steps with a little laugh.</p> + +<p>Polly was only just in time; before her preparations were completed the +bell rang in the sickroom.</p> + +<p>'There, it is ready; I will carry it up. Never mind me, Mrs. Madison, it +is not very heavy,' cried the girl, bustling and heated, and she took up +the tray with her strong young arms, but, in her hurry, the velvet +slippers had been forgotten.</p> + +<p>Mildred started with dismay at the sound of the little tapping heels. +Would Roy recognise it? Yes, a flush had passed over his wan face; he +tried to raise himself feebly, but the incautious movement brought on a +fit of coughing.</p> + +<p>Mildred passed a supporting arm under the pillows, and waited patiently +till the paroxysm had passed.</p> + +<p>'Dear Rex, you should not have tried to raise yourself—there, lean +back, and be quiet a moment till you have recovered,' and she wiped the +cold drops of exhaustion from his forehead.</p> + +<p>But he still fought with the struggling breath.</p> + +<p>'Was it she—was it Polly?' he gasped.</p> + +<p>'Yes,' returned Mildred, alarmed at his excessive agitation and unable +to withhold the truth; 'but you must not talk just now.'</p> + +<p>'Just one word; when did she come?' he whispered, faintly.</p> + +<p>'With me; she has been here all this time. It is her cookery, not Mrs. +Madison's, that you have been praising so highly. No, you must not see +her yet,' answering his wistful glance; 'you are so weak that Dr. +Blenkinsop has forbidden it at present; but you will soon be better, +dear,' and it was a proof of his weakness that Roy did not contest the +point.</p> + +<p>But the result of Polly's imprudence was less harmful than she had +feared. Roy grew less restless. From that evening he would lie listening +for hours to the light footsteps about the house, his eyes would +brighten as they paused at his door.</p> + +<p>The flowers that Polly now ventured to lay on his tray were always +placed within his reach; he would lie and look at them contentedly. Once +a scrap of white paper attracted his eyes. How eagerly his thin fingers +clutched it There were only a few words traced on it—'Good-night, my +dear brother Roy; I am so glad you are better;' but when Mildred was not +looking the paper was pressed to his lips and hidden under his pillow.</p> + +<p>'You need not move about so quietly, I think he likes to hear you,' +Mildred said to the girl when she had assured herself that no hurtful +effect had been the result of Polly's carelessness, and Polly had +thanked her with glistening eyes.</p> + +<p>How light her heart grew; she burst into little quavers and trills of +song as she flitted about Mrs. Madison's bright kitchen. Roy heard her +singing one of his favourite airs, and made Mildred open the door.</p> + +<p>'She has the sweetest voice I ever heard,' he said with a sigh when she +had finished. 'Ask her to do that oftener; it is like David's harp to +Saul,' cried the lad, with tears in his eyes; 'it refreshes me.'</p> + +<p>Once they could hear her fondling the dog in the entry below.</p> + +<p>'Dear old Sue, you are such a darling old dog, and I love you so, though +you are too stupid to be taught any tricks,' she said, playfully.</p> + +<p>When Sue next found admittance into her master's room Roy called the +animal to him with feeble voice. 'Let her be, I like to have her here,' +he said, when Mildred would have lifted her from the snow-white +counterpane. 'Sue loves her master, and her master loves Sue,' and as +the creature thrust its slender nose delightedly into his hand Roy +dropped a furtive kiss on the smooth black head.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX</h2> + +<h3>'I CANNOT SING THE OLD SONGS'</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Ask me no more: what answer should I give?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I love not hollow cheek or faded eye:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet, O my friend, I will not have thee die!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ask me no more, lest I should bid thee live;<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Ask me no more.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Ask me no more; thy fate and mine are seal'd:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I strove against the stream and all in vain:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Let the great river take me to the main:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No more, dear love, for at a touch I yield;<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Ask me no more.'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Tennyson's</span> <i>Princess</i>.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>Richard had promised to pay them another visit shortly, and one Saturday +evening while Polly and Sue were racing each other among the gravel-pits +and the furze-bushes of the people's great common, and the lights +twinkled merrily in the Vale of Health, and the shifting mist shut out +the blue distances of Harrow and Pinner, Mildred was charmed as well as +startled by the sound of his voice in the hall.</p> + +<p>'Well, Rex, you are getting on famously, I hear; thanks to Aunt Milly's +nursing,' was his cheerful greeting.</p> + +<p>Roy shook his head despondingly.</p> + +<p>'I should do better if I could see something different from these four +walls,' he returned, with a discontented glance round the room that +Mildred had made so bright and pretty; 'it is absurd keeping me moped up +here, but Aunt Milly is inexorable.'</p> + +<p>Mildred smiled over her boy's peevishness.</p> + +<p>'He does not know what is good for him,' she returned, gently; 'he +always gets restless towards evening. Dr. Blenkinsop has been most +strict in bidding me keep him from excitement and not to let him talk +with any one. This is the first day he has withdrawn his prohibition, +and Roy has been in his tantrums ever since.'</p> + +<p>'He said I might go downstairs if only I were spared the trouble of +walking,' grumbled Roy, who sometimes tyrannised over Aunt Milly—and +dearly she loved such tyranny.</p> + +<p>'He is more like a spoiled child than ever,' she said, laughing.</p> + +<p>'If that be all, the difficulty is soon obviated. I can carry him +easily,' returned Richard, looking down a little sadly at the long gaunt +figure before him, looking strangely shrunken in the brilliant +dressing-gown that was Roy's special glory; 'but I must be careful, you +look thin and brittle enough to break.'</p> + +<p>'May he, Aunt Milly? Oh, I do so long to see the old studio again, and +the couch is so much more comfortable than this,' his eyes beginning to +shine with excitement and his colour varying dangerously.</p> + +<p>'Is it quite prudent, Richard?' she asked, hesitatingly. 'Had we not +better wait till to-morrow?' but Roy's eagerness overbore her scruples.</p> + +<p>Polly little knew what surprise was in store for her. Her race over, she +walked along soberly, wondering how she should occupy herself that +evening. She, too, knew that Dr. Blenkinsop's prohibition had been +removed, and had chafed a little restlessly when Mildred had asked her +to be patient till the next day. 'Aunt Milly is too careful; she does +not think how I long to see him,' she said, as she walked slowly home. A +light streamed across the dark garden when she reached The Hollies; a +radiance of firelight and lamplight. 'I wonder if Richard has come,' +thought Polly, as she stole into the little passage and gently opened +the door.</p> + +<p>Yes, Richard was there; his square, thick-set figure blocking up the +fireplace as he leant in his favourite attitude against the mantelpiece; +and there was Aunt Milly, smiling as though something pleased her. And +yes, surely that was Roy's wraith wrapped in the gorgeous dressing-gown +and supported by pillows.</p> + +<p>The blood rushed to the girl's face as she stood for a moment as though +spell-bound, but at the sound of her half-suppressed exclamation he +turned his head feebly and looked at her.</p> + +<p>'Polly' was all he said, but at his voice she had sprung across the +room, and as he stretched out his thin hand to her with an attempt at +his old smile, a low sob had risen to her lips, and, utterly overcome by +the spectacle of his weakness, she buried her face in his pillows.</p> + +<p>Roy's eyes grew moist with sympathy.</p> + +<p>'Don't cry, Polly—don't; I cannot bear it,' he whispered, faintly.</p> + +<p>'Don't, Polly; try to control yourself; this agitation is very bad for +him;' and Richard raised her gently, for a deadly pallor had overspread +Roy's features.</p> + +<p>'I could not help it,' she returned, drying her eyes, 'to see him lying +there looking so ill. Oh, Rex! it breaks my heart,' and the two young +creatures almost clung together in their agitation; and, indeed, Roy's +hollow blue eyes and thin, bloodless face had a spectral beauty that was +absolutely startling.</p> + +<p>'I never thought you would mind so much, Polly,' he said, tremulously; +and the poor lad looked at her with an eagerness that he could not +disguise. 'I hardly dared to expect that you could waste so much time +and thought on me.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, Rex, how can you say such unkind things; not care—and I have been +fretting all this time?'</p> + +<p>'That was hardly kind to Heriot, was it?' he said, watching her, and a +strange vivid light shone in his eyes. If she had not known before she +must have felt then how he loved her; a sudden blush rose to her cheek +as he mentioned Dr. Heriot's name; involuntarily she moved a little away +from him, and Roy's head fell back on the pillow with a sigh.</p> + +<p>Neither of them seemed much disposed for speech after that. Roy lay back +with closed eyes and knitted brows, and Polly sat on a low chair +watching the great spluttering log and showers of sparks, while Mildred +and Richard talked in undertones.</p> + +<p>Now and then Roy opened his eyes and looked at her—at the dainty little +figure and sweet, thoughtful face; the firelight shone on the shielding +hand and half-hoop of diamonds. He recognised the ribbon she wore; he +had bought it for her, as well as the little garnet ring he had +afterwards voted as rubbish. The sight angered him. He would claim it +again, he thought. She should wear no gifts of his; the diamonds had +overpowered his garnets, just as his poor little love had been crushed +by Dr. Heriot's fascination. Adonis, with his sleepy blue eyes and fair +moustache and velvet coat, had failed in the contest with the elder man. +What was he, after all, but a beggarly artist? No wonder she despised +his scraps of ribbon, his paltry gewgaws, and odds and ends of rubbish. +'And yet if I had only had my chance,' he groaned within himself, 'if I +had wooed her, if I had compelled her to understand my meaning.' And +then his anger melted, as she raised her clear, honest eyes, and looked +at him.</p> + +<p>'Are you in pain, Rex?—can I move your pillows?' bending over him +rather timidly. Poor children! a veil of reserve had fallen between them +since Dr. Heriot's name had been mentioned, and she no longer spoke to +him with the old fearlessness.</p> + +<p>'No, I am not in pain. Come here, Polly; you have not begun to be afraid +of me since—since I have been ill?' rather moodily.</p> + +<p>'No, Rex, of course not.' But she faltered a little over her words.</p> + +<p>'Sit down beside me for a minute. What was it you called me in your +letter, before I was ill? Something—it looked strangely written by your +hand, Polly.'</p> + +<p>'Brother—my dear brother Rex,' almost inaudibly.</p> + +<p>'Ah, I remember. It would have made me smile, only I was not in the +humour for smiling. I did not write back to my sister Polly though. +Richard calls you his little sister very often, does he not?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, and I love to hear him say it,' very earnestly.</p> + +<p>'Should you love it if I called you that too?' he returned, with an +involuntary curl of the lip. 'Pshaw! This is idle talk; but sick people +will have their fancies. I have one at present. I want you not to wear +that rubbish any more,' touching her hand lightly.</p> + +<p>'Oh, Rex—the ring you gave me?' the tears starting to her eyes.</p> + +<p>'I never threw a flower away the gift of one that cared for me,' he +replied, with a weak laugh. '"I never had a dear gazelle but it was sure +to marry the market-gardener." Do you remember Dick Swiveller, Polly, +and the many laughs we have had over him in the old garden at home? Oh, +those days!' checking himself abruptly, for fear the pent-up bitterness +might find vent.</p> + +<p>'Children, you are talking too much,' interposed Mildred's warning +voice, not slow to interpret the rising excitement of Roy's manner.</p> + +<p>'One minute more, Aunt Milly,' he returned, hastily; then, dropping his +voice, 'The gift must go back to the giver. I don't want you to wear +that ugly little ring any longer, Polly.'</p> + +<p>'But I prize it so,' she remonstrated. 'If I give it back to you, you +will throw it in the fire, or trample on it.'</p> + +<p>'On my honour, no; but I can't stand seeing you wear such rubbish. I +will keep it safely—I will indeed, Polly. Do please me in this.' And +Polly, who had never refused him anything, drew off the shabby little +ring from her finger and handed it to him with downcast eyes. Why should +he ask from her such a sacrifice? Every ribbon and every flower he had +given her she had hoarded up as though they were of priceless value, and +now he had taken from her her most cherished treasure. And Polly's lip +quivered so that she could hardly bid him good-night.</p> + +<p>Richard, who saw the girl was fretting, tried by every means in his +power to cheer her. He threw on another log, placed her little +basket-work chair in the most inviting corner, showed her the different +periodicals he had brought from Oxford for Roy's amusement, and gave her +lively sketches of undergraduate life. Polly showed her interest very +languidly; she was mourning the loss of her ring, and thinking how much +her long-desired interview with Roy had disappointed her. Would he never +be the same to her again? Would this sad misunderstanding always come +between them?</p> + +<p>How was it she was clinging to him with the old fondness till he had +mentioned Dr. Heriot's name, and then their hands had fallen asunder +simultaneously?</p> + +<p>'Poor Roy, and poor, poor Polly!' she thought, with a self-pity as new +as it was painful.</p> + +<p>'You are not listening to me, Polly. You are tired, my dear,' Richard +said at last, in his kind fraternal way.</p> + +<p>'No, I am very rude. But I cannot help thinking of Rex; how ill he is, +and how terribly wasted he looks!'</p> + +<p>'I knew it would be a shock to you. I am thankful that my father's gout +prevents him from travelling; he would fret dreadfully over Roy's +altered appearance. But we must be thankful that he is as well as he is. +I could not help thinking all that night—the night before you and Aunt +Milly came—what I should do if we lost him.'</p> + +<p>'Don't, Richard. I cannot bear to think of it.'</p> + +<p>'It ought to make us so grateful,' he murmured. 'First Olive and then +Roy brought back from the very brink of the grave. It is too much +goodness; it makes one ashamed of one's discontent.' And he sighed +involuntarily.</p> + +<p>'But it is so sad to see him so helpless. You said he was as light as a +child when you lifted him, Richard, and if he speaks a word or two he +coughs. I am afraid Dr. Blenkinsop is right in saying he must go to +Hastings for the winter.'</p> + +<p>'We shall hear what Dr. John says when he comes up next. You expect him +soon, Polly?' But Richard, as he asked the question, avoided meeting her +eyes. He feared lest this long absence had excited suspicions which he +might find difficult to answer.</p> + +<p>But Polly's innocence was proof against any such surmises. 'I cannot +think what keeps him,' she returned, disconsolately. Olive says he is +not very busy, and that his new assistant relieves him of half his +work.'</p> + +<p>'And he gives you no reason?' touching the log to elicit another shower +of sparks.</p> + +<p>'No, he only says that he cannot come at present, and answers all my +reproaches with jests—you know his way. I don't think he half knows how +I want him. Richard, I do wish you would do something for me. Write to +him to-morrow, and ask him to come; tell him I want him very badly, that +I never wanted him half so much before.'</p> + +<p>'Dear Polly, you cannot need him so much as that,' trying to turn off +her earnestness with a laugh.</p> + +<p>'You do not know—you none of you know—how much I want him,' with a +strange vehemence in her tone. 'When he is near me I feel safe—almost +happy. Ah!' cried the girl, with a sad wistfulness coming into her eyes, +'when I see him I do not need to remind myself of his goodness and +love—I can feel it then. Oh, Richard dear! tell him he must come—that +I am afraid to be without him any longer.'</p> + +<p>Afraid of what? Did she know? Did Richard know?</p> + +<p>'She seems very restless without you,' he wrote that Sunday afternoon. +'I fancy Roy's manner frets her. He is fitful in his moods—a little +irritable even to her, and yet unable to bear her out of his sight. He +would be brought down into the studio again to-day, though Aunt Milly +begged him to spare himself. Polly has been trying all the afternoon to +amuse him, but he will not be amused. She has just gone off to the +piano, in the hope of singing him to sleep. Rex tyrannises over us all +dreadfully.'</p> + +<p>Dr. Heriot sighed over Richard's letter, but he made no attempt to +facilitate his preparations for going to London; he was reading things +by a clear light now; this failure of his was a sore subject to him; in +spite of the prospect that was dawning slowly before him, he could not +bear to think of the tangled web he had so unthinkingly woven—it would +need careful unravelling, he thought; and so curious is the mingled warp +and woof in the mind of a man like John Heriot, that while his heart +yearned for Mildred with the strong passion of his nature, he felt for +his young betrothed a tenderness for which there was no name, and the +thought of freeing himself and her was painful in the extreme.</p> + +<p>He longed to see her again and judge for himself, but he must be patient +for a while, he knew; so though Polly pleaded for his presence almost +passionately, he still put her off on some pretext or other,—nor did he +come till a strong letter of remonstrance from Mildred reached him, +reproaching him for his apparent neglect, and begging him to recall the +girl, as their present position was not good for her or Roy.</p> + +<p>Mildred was constrained to take this step, urged by her pity for Polly's +evident unhappiness.</p> + +<p>That some struggle was passing in the girl's mind was now evident. Was +she becoming shaken in her loyalty to Dr. Heriot? Mildred grew alarmed; +she saw that while Roy's invalid fancies were obeyed with the old +Polly-like docility and sweetness, that she shrank at times from him as +though she were afraid to trust herself with him; sometimes at a look or +word she would rise from his side and go to the piano and sing softly to +herself some airs that Dr. Heriot loved.</p> + +<p>'You never sing my old favourites now, Polly,' Roy said once, rather +fretfully, 'but only these old things over and over again!'</p> + +<p>'I like to sing these best,' she said, hastily; and then, as he still +pressed the point, she pushed the music from her, and hurried out of the +room.</p> + +<p>But Mildred had another cause for uneasiness which she kept to herself. +There was no denying that Roy was very slow in regaining strength. Dr. +Blenkinsop shook his head, and looked more dissatisfied every day.</p> + +<p>'I don't know what to make of him,' he owned to Mildred, one day, as +they stood in the porch together.</p> + +<p>It was a mild December afternoon; a red wintry sun hung over the little +garden; a faint crescent moon rose behind the trees; underneath the +window a few chrysanthemums shed a soft blur of violet and dull crimson; +a slight wind stirred the hair from Mildred's temples, showing a streak +of gray; but worn and thin as she looked, Dr. Blenkinsop thought he had +never seen a face that pleased him better.</p> + +<p>'What a Sister of Mercy she would make,' he often thought; 'if I know +anything of human nature, this woman has known a great sorrow; she has +been taught patience in a rough school; no matter how that boy tries +her, she has always a cheerful answer ready for him.'</p> + +<p>Dr. Blenkinsop was in rather a bad humour this afternoon, a fact that +was often patent enough to his patients, whom he was given to treat on +such occasions with some <i>brusquerie</i>; but with all his oddities and +contradictions, they dearly loved him.</p> + +<p>'I can't make him out at all,' he repeated, irritably, feeling his +iron-gray whiskers, a trick of his when anything discomposed him; 'there +is no fault to find with his constitution; he has had a sharp bout of +illness, brought on, as far as I can make out, by his own imprudence, +and just as he has turned the corner nicely, and seems doing us all +credit, he declines to make any further progress!'</p> + +<p>'But he is really better, Dr. Blenkinsop; he coughs far less, and his +sleep is less broken; he has no appetite, certainly, but——' Mildred +stopped. She thought herself that Roy had been losing ground lately.</p> + +<p>Dr. Blenkinsop fairly growled,—he had little sharp white teeth that +showed almost savagely when he was in one of his surly moods.</p> + +<p>'These lymphatic natures are the worst to combat, they succumb so +readily to weakness and depression; he certainly seems more languid +to-day, and there are feverish indications. He has got nothing on his +mind, eh?'—turning round so abruptly that Mildred was put out of +countenance.</p> + +<p>She hesitated.</p> + +<p>'Humph!' was his next observation, 'I thought as much. Of course it is +none of my concern, but when I see my patient losing ground without any +visible cause, one begins to ask questions. That young lady who assists +in the nursing—do you think her presence advisable, eh?'—with another +sharp glance at Mildred.</p> + +<p>'She is his adopted sister—she is engaged,' stammered Mildred, not +willing to betray the lad's secret. 'They are very fond of each other.'</p> + +<p>'A questionable sort of fondness—rather too feverish on one side, I +should say. Send her back to the north, and get that nice fellow Richard +in her place; that is my advice.'</p> + +<p>And acting on this very broad hint, Mildred soon afterwards wrote to Dr. +Heriot to recall Polly.</p> + +<p>When Dr. Blenkinsop had left her, she did not at once return to the +studio; through the closed door she could hear Polly striking soft +chords on the piano. Roy had seemed drowsy, and she trusted the girl's +murmuring voice would lull him to sleep.</p> + +<p>It was not often that she left them together; but this afternoon her +longing for a little fresh air tempted her to undertake some errands +that were needed for the invalid; and leaving a message with Mrs. +Madison that she would be back to the early tea, she set off in the +direction of the old town.</p> + +<p>It was getting rapidly dusk as the little gate swung behind Mildred. +When Roy roused from his fitful slumber, he could hardly see Polly as +she sat at the shabby, square piano.</p> + +<p>The girl was touching the notes with listless fingers, her head drooping +over the keys; but she suddenly started when she saw the tall gaunt +figure beside her in the gorgeous dressing-gown.</p> + +<p>'Oh, Rex, this is very wrong,' taking hold of one of his hot hands, and +trying to lead him back to the sofa, 'when you know you cannot stand, +and that the least movement makes you cough. Put your hand on my +shoulder; lean on me. Oh, I wish I were as strong and tall as Aunt +Milly.'</p> + +<p>'I like you best as you are,' he replied, but he did not refuse the +support she offered him. 'I could not see you over there, only the +outline of your dress. You never wear your pretty dresses now, Polly?' +reproachfully. 'I suppose because Heriot is not here.'</p> + +<p>'Indeed—indeed—you must not stand any longer, Rex. You must lie down +at once, or I shall tell Aunt Milly,' she returned, evasively.</p> + +<p>He was always making these sort of speeches to her, and to-night she +felt as though she could not bear them; but Roy was not to be silenced. +Never once had she mentioned Dr. Heriot's name to him, and with an odd +tenacity he wanted to make her say it. What did she call him? had she +learnt to say his Christian name? would she pronounce it with a blush, +faltering over it as girls do? or would she speak it glibly as with long +usage?</p> + +<p>'I suppose you keep them all for him,' he continued, with a suspicion of +bitterness in his tone; 'that little nun-like gray dress is good enough +for Aunt Milly and me. Too much colour would be bad for weak eyes, eh, +Polly?'</p> + +<p>'I dress for him, of course,' trying to defend herself with dignity; but +the next moment she waxed humble again. 'I—I am sorry you do not like +the dress, Rex,' she faltered. 'I should like to please you both if I +could,' and her eyes filled with tears.</p> + +<p>'I think you might sing sometimes to please me when he is not here,' he +returned, obstinately; 'just one song, Polly; my favourite one, with +that sad, sweet refrain.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, not that one,' she repeated, beginning to tremble; 'choose +something else, Rex—not that.'</p> + +<p>'No, I will have that or none,' he replied, irritably. What had become +of Roy's sweet temper? 'You seem determined not to please me in +anything,' and he moved away.</p> + +<p>Polly watched his tottering steps a moment, and then she sprang after +him.</p> + +<p>'Oh, Rex, do not be so cross with me; do not refuse my help,' she said, +winding her arm round him, and compelling him to lean on her. 'There, +you have done yourself mischief,' as he paused, overcome by a paroxysm +of coughing. 'How can you—how can you be so unkind to me, Rex?'</p> + +<p>He did not answer; perhaps, absorbed in his own trouble, he hardly knew +how he tried her; but as he sank back feebly on the cushions, he +whispered—</p> + +<p>'You will sing it, Polly, will you not?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, yes; anything, if you will only not be angry with me,' returned +the poor girl, as she hurried away.</p> + +<p>The air was a mournful one, just suited to the words:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Ask me no more: what answer should I give?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I love not hollow cheek or faded eye:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet, O my friend, I will not have thee die!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ask me no more, lest I should bid thee live;<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Ask me no more.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>'Polly, come here! come to me, Polly!' for, overcome by a sudden +revulsion of feeling, Polly had broken down, and hidden her face in her +hands; and now a stifled sob reached Roy's ear.</p> + +<p>'Polly, I dare not move, and I only want to ask you to forgive me,' in a +remorseful voice; and the girl obeyed him reluctantly.</p> + +<p>'What makes you so cruel to me?' she panted, looking at him with sad +eyes, that seemed to pierce his selfishness. 'It is not my fault if you +are so unhappy—if you will not get well.'</p> + +<p>'Ask me no more; thy fate and mine are sealed.' The plaintive rhythm +still haunted her. Was she, after all, so much to blame? Was she not +suffering too? Why should he lay this terrible burden on her? It was +selfish of him to die and leave her to her misery.</p> + +<p>Roy fairly quailed beneath the girl's indignation and passionate sorrow.</p> + +<p>'Have I been so hard to you, Polly?' he said, humbly. 'Are men ever hard +to the women they love? There, the murder is out. You must leave me, +Polly; you must go back to Heriot. I am too weak to hide the truth any +longer. You must not stay and listen to me,' pushing her away with weak +force.</p> + +<p>It was his turn to be agitated now.</p> + +<p>'Leave me!' he repeated, 'it is not loyal to Heriot to listen to a +fool's maundering, which he has not the wit or the strength to hide. I +should only frighten you with my vehemence, and do no good. Aunt Milly +will be here directly. Leave me, I say.'</p> + +<p>But she only clung to him, and called him brother. Alas! how could she +leave him!</p> + +<p>By and by he grew calmer.</p> + +<p>'Forgive me, Polly; I am not myself; I ought not to have made you sing +that song.'</p> + +<p>'No, Rex,' in a voice scarcely audible.</p> + +<p>'When you go back to Heriot you must tell him all. Ask him not to be +hard on me. I never meant to injure him. The man you love is sacred in +my eyes. It was only for a little while I hated him.'</p> + +<p>'I will not tell him that.'</p> + +<p>'Listen to me, dear! I ask his pardon, and yours too, for having +betrayed myself. I have acted like a weak fool to-night. You were wiser +than I, Polly.'</p> + +<p>'There is nothing to forgive,' she returned, softly. 'Heriot will not be +angry with you; he knows you are ill, and I—I will try to forget it. +But you must get well, Rex; you will promise to get well for my sake.'</p> + +<p>'Shall you grieve very much if I do not? Heriot would comfort you, if I +did not, Polly.'</p> + +<p>She made an involuntary movement towards him, and then checked herself.</p> + +<p>'Cruel! cruel!' she said, in a voice that sounded dead and cold, and her +arms fell to her side.</p> + +<p>He melted at that.</p> + +<p>'There, I have hurt you again. What a selfish wretch I am. I shall make +a poor thing of life; but I will promise not to die if I can help it. +You shall not call me cruel again, Polly.'</p> + +<p>Then she smiled, and stretched out her hand to him.</p> + +<p>'I would not requite your goodness so badly as that. You could always do +as you liked with me in the old days, Polly—turn me round your little +finger. If you tell me to get well I suppose I must try; but the best +part of me is gone.'</p> + +<p>She could not answer him. Every word went through her tender heart like +a stab. What avail were her love and pity? Never should she be able to +comfort him again; never would her sweet sisterly ministrations suffice +for him. She must not linger by his side; her eyes were open now.</p> + +<p>'Good-bye, Roy,' she faltered. She hardly knew what she meant by that +farewell. Was she going to leave him? Was she only saying good-bye to +the past, to girlhood, to all manner of fond foolish dreams? She rose +with dry eyes when she had uttered that little speech, while he lay +watching her.</p> + +<p>'Do you mean to leave me?' he asked, sorrowfully, but not disputing her +decision.</p> + +<p>'Perhaps—yes—what does it matter?' she answered, moving drearily away.</p> + +<p>What did it matter indeed? Her fate and his were sealed. Between them +stretched a gulf, long as life, impassable as death; and even her +innocent love might not span it.</p> + +<p>'I shall not go to him, and he will not return to me,' she said, +paraphrasing the words of the royal mourner to harmonise with her +measure of pain. 'Never while I live shall I have my brother Roy again.'</p> + +<p>Poor little aching, childish heart, dealing for the first time with +life's mysteries, comprehending now the relative distinction between +love and gratitude, and standing with reluctant feet on the edge of an +unalterable resolve. What sorrow in after years ever equalled this +blank?</p> + +<p>When Mildred returned she found a very desolate scene awaiting her; the +fire had burnt low, a waste of dull red embers filled the grate, the +moon shone through the one uncurtained window; a mass of drapery stirred +at her entrance, a yawning figure stretched itself under the oriental +quilt.</p> + +<p>'Roy, were you asleep? The fire is nearly out. Where is Polly?</p> + +<p>'I do not know. She left the room just now,' he returned, with a sleepy +inflection; but to Mildred's delicate perception it did not ring true. +She said nothing, however, raked the embers together, threw on some +wood, and lighted the lamps.</p> + +<p>Had he really slept? There was no need to ask the question; his burning +hand, the feverish light of his eyes, the compressed lips, the baffled +and tortured lines of the brow, told her another story; she leant over +him, pressing them out with soft fingers.</p> + +<p>'Rex, my poor boy!'</p> + +<p>'Aunt Milly, she has bidden me good-bye,' broke out the lad suddenly; +'she knows, and she is going back to Heriot; and I—I am the most +miserable wretch alive.'</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXI" id="CHAPTER_XXXI"></a>CHAPTER XXXI</h2> + +<h3>'WHICH SHALL IT BE?'</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'She looked again, as one that half afraid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would fain be certain of a doubtful thing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or one beseeching, "Do not me upbraid!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then she trembled like the fluttering<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of timid little birds, and silent stood.'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jean Ingelow.</span><br /></span> +</div></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>Dr. Heriot started for London the day after he had received Mildred's +letter; as he intended, his appearance took them all by surprise.</p> + +<p>Mildred was the first to detect the well-known footsteps on the +gravelled path; but she held her peace. Dr. Heriot's keen glance, as he +stood on the threshold, had time to scan the features of the little +fireside group before a word of greeting had crossed his lips; he +noticed Polly's listless attitude as she sat apart in the dark +window-seat, and the moody restlessness of Roy's face as he lay +furtively watching her. Even Mildred's heightened colour, as she bent +industriously over her work, was not lost on him.</p> + +<p>'Polly!' he said, crossing the room, and marvelling at her unusual +abstraction.</p> + +<p>At the sound of the kind, well-known voice, the girl started violently; +but as he stooped over her and kissed her, she turned very white, and +involuntarily shrank from him, but the next moment she clung to him +almost excitedly.</p> + +<p>'Oh, Heriot, why did you not come before? You knew I wanted you—you +must have known how I wanted you.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, dear, I knew all about it,' he replied, quietly, putting away the +little cold hands that detained him, and turning to the others.</p> + +<p>A few kind inquiries after the invalid were met at first very irritably, +but even Roy's jealousy could not be proof against such gentleness, and +he forgot his wretchedness for a time while listening to home messages, +and all the budget of Kirkby Stephen gossip which Dr. Heriot retailed +over the cosy meal that Mildred provided for the traveller.</p> + +<p>For once Dr. Heriot proved himself an inexhaustible talker; there was no +limit to his stock of anecdotes. Roy's sulkiness vanished; he grew +interested, almost amused.</p> + +<p>'You remember old Mrs. Parkinson and her ginger-cakes, Polly,' he said, +with a weak ghost of a laugh; but then he checked himself with a frown. +How was it one could not hate this fellow, who had defrauded him of +Polly? he thought, clenching his hand impatiently. Why was he to succumb +to a charm of manner that had worked him such woe?</p> + +<p>Dr. Heriot's fine instinct perceived the lad's transition of mood.</p> + +<p>'Yes, Polly has a faithful memory for an old friend,' he said, answering +for the girl, who sat near him with a strip of embroidery from which she +had not once raised her eyes. As he looked at her, his face worked with +some strong emotion; his eyes softened, and then grew sad.</p> + +<p>'Polly is faith itself,' speaking with peculiar intonation, and laying +his hand on the small shining head. 'You see I have a new name for you +to-night, Heartsease.'</p> + +<p>'I think I will go to bed, Aunt Milly,' broke out poor Roy, growing +suddenly pale and haggard. 'I—I am tired, and it is later to-night, I +think.'</p> + +<p>Dr. Heriot made no effort to combat his resolution. He stood aside while +Mildred offered her arm to the invalid. He saw Polly hurriedly slip her +hand in Roy's, who wrung it hard with a sort of laugh.</p> + +<p>'It is good-bye for good and all, I suppose to-night?' he said. 'Heriot +means to take you away, of course?'</p> + +<p>But Polly did not answer; she only hid her red quivering hand under her +work, as though she feared Dr. Heriot would see it.</p> + +<p>But the next moment the work was thrown lightly to the ground, and Dr. +Heriot's fingers were gently stroking the ill-used hand.</p> + +<p>'Poor little Polly; does he often treat you to such a rough hand-shake?' +he said, with a half-amused, tender smile.</p> + +<p>'No, never,' she stammered; but then, as though gaining courage from the +kind face looking down at her, 'Oh, Heriot, I am so glad he is gone. +I—I want to speak to you.'</p> + +<p>'Is that why you have been so silent?' drawing her nearer to him as she +stood beside him on the rug. 'Little Heartsease, did you like my new +name?'</p> + +<p>'Don't, Heriot; I—I do not understand you; I have not been faithful at +least.'</p> + +<p>'Not in your sense of the word, perhaps, dear Polly, but in mine. What +if your faithfulness should save us both from a great mistake?'</p> + +<p>'I—I do not understand you,' she said again, looking at him with sad, +bewildered eyes. 'You shall talk to me presently; but now I want to +speak to you. Heriot, I was wrong to come here—wrong and self-willed. +Aunt Milly was right; I have done no good. Oh, it has all been so +miserable—a mistake from beginning to end; and then I thought you would +never come.'</p> + +<p>'Dear Polly, it could not be helped. Neither can I stay now.'</p> + +<p>'You will not go and leave me again?' she said, faltering and becoming +very pale. 'Heriot, you must take me with you; promise me that you will +take me with you.'</p> + +<p>'I cannot, my dear child. Indeed—indeed—I cannot'</p> + +<p>'Then I will go alone,' she said, throwing back her head proudly, but +trembling as she spoke. 'I will not stay here without you—not for a +day—not for a single day.'</p> + +<p>'But Roy wants you. You cannot leave him until he is better,' he said, +watching her; but though she coloured perceptibly, she stood her ground.</p> + +<p>'I was wrong to come,' she returned, piteously. 'I cannot help it if Rex +wants me. I know he does. You are saying this to punish me, and because +I have failed in my duty.'</p> + +<p>'Hush, my child; I at least have not reproached you.'</p> + +<p>'No, you never reproach me; you are kindness itself. Heriot,' laying +down her face on his arm, and now he knew she was weeping, 'I never knew +until lately how badly I have treated you. You ought not to have chosen +a child like me. I have tried your patience, and given you no return for +your goodness; but I have resolved that all this shall be altered.'</p> + +<p>'Is it in your power, Polly?' speaking now more gravely.</p> + +<p>'It must—it shall be. Listen to me, dear. You asked me once to make no +unnecessary delay, but to be your wife at once. Heriot, I am ready now.'</p> + +<p>'No, my child, no.'</p> + +<p>'Ah, but I am,' speaking with difficulty through her sobs. 'I never +cared for you so much. I never wanted you so much. I am so full of +gratitude—I long to make you so happy—to make somebody happy. You must +take me away from here, where Roy will not make me miserable any more, +and then I shall try to forget him—his unhappiness, I mean—and to +think only of you.'</p> + +<p>'Poor child,' speaking more to himself than to her; 'and this is to what +I have brought her.'</p> + +<p>'You must not be angry with Roy,' continued the young girl, when her +agitation had a little subsided. 'He could not help my seeing what he +felt; and then he told me to go back to you. He has tried his hardest, I +know he has; every night I prayed that you might come and take me away, +and every morning I dreaded lest I should be disappointed. Heriot, it +was cruel—cruel to leave me so long.'</p> + +<p>'And you will come back with me now?'</p> + +<p>'Oh yes,' with a little sighing breath.</p> + +<p>'And I am to make you my wife? I am not to wait for your nineteenth +birthday?'</p> + +<p>'No. Oh, Heriot, how self-willed and selfish I was.'</p> + +<p>'Neither one nor the other. Listen to me, dear Polly. Nay, you are +trembling so that you can hardly stand; sit beside me on this couch; it +is my turn to talk now. I have a little story to tell you.'</p> + +<p>'A story, Heriot?'</p> + +<p>'Yes; shall we call it "The Guardian's Mistake"? I am not much of a hand +in story-telling, but I hope I shall make my meaning clear. What, +afraid, my child? nay, there is no sad ending to this story of mine; it +runs merrily to the tune of wedding bells.'</p> + +<p>'I do not want to hear it,' she said, shrinking nervously; but he, +half-laughingly and half-seriously, persisted:—</p> + +<p>'Once upon a time, shall we say that, Polly? Little Heartsease, how pale +you are growing. Once upon a time, a great many years ago, a man +committed a great mistake that darkened his after life.</p> + +<p>'He married a woman whom he loved, but whose heart he had not won. Not +that he knew that. Heaven forbid that any one calling himself a man +should do so base a thing as that; but his wishes and his affection +blinded him, and the result was misery for many a year to come.'</p> + +<p>'But he grew comforted in time,' interrupted Polly, softly.</p> + +<p>'Yes, time, and friendship, and other blessings, bestowed by the good +God, healed the bitterness of the wound, but it still bled inwardly. He +was a weary-hearted man, with a secret disgust of life, and full of sad +loathing for the empty home that sheltered his loneliness, all the +more,' as Polly pressed closer to him, 'that he was one who had ever +craved for wife and children.</p> + +<p>'It was at this time, just as memory was growing faint, that a certain +young girl, the daughter of an old college friend of his, was left to +his care. Think, Polly, how sacred a charge to this desolate man; a +young orphan, alone in the world, and dependent on his care.'</p> + +<p>'Heriot, I beseech you to stop; you are breaking my heart.'</p> + +<p>'Nay, dearest, there is nothing sad in my story; there are only wheels +within wheels, a complication heightening the interest of the plot. +Well, was it a wonder that this man, this nameless hero of ours, a +species of Don Quixote in his way, should weave a certain sweet fancy +into his dreary life, that he should conceive the idea of protecting and +loving this young girl in the best way he could by making her his wife, +thinking that he would make himself and her happy, but always thinking +most of her.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, Heriot, no more; have pity on me.'</p> + +<p>'What, stop in the middle of my story, and before my second hero makes +his appearance? For shame, Heartsease; but this man, for all his wise +plans and benevolent schemes, proved himself miserably blind.</p> + +<p>'He knew that this girl had an adopted brother whom she loved dearly. +Nay, do not hide your face, Polly; no angel's love could have been purer +than this girl's for this friend of hers; but alas, what no one had +foreseen had already happened; unknown to her guardian, and to herself, +this young man had always loved, and desired to win her for his wife.'</p> + +<p>'She never knew it,' in a stifled voice.</p> + +<p>'No, she never knew it, any more than she knew her own heart. Why do you +start, Heartsease? Ah, she was so sure of that, so certain of her love +for her affianced husband, that when she knew her friend was ill, she +pleaded to be allowed to nurse him. Yes, though she had found out then +the reason of his unhappiness.'</p> + +<p>'She hoped to do good,' clasping her hands before her face.</p> + +<p>'True, she hoped to do good; she fancied, not knowing the world and her +own heart, that she could win him back to his old place, and so keep +them both, her guardian and her friend. And her guardian, heart-sick at +the mistake he had made, and with a new and secret sorrow preying upon +him, deliberately suffered her to be exposed to the ordeal that her own +generous imprudence had planned.'</p> + +<p>'Heriot, one moment; you have a secret sorrow?'</p> + +<p>'Not an incurable one, my sweet; you shall know it by and by; if I do +not mistake, it will yield us a harvest of joy; but I am drawing near +the end of the story.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, you have quite finished—there is nothing more to say; nothing, +Heriot.'</p> + +<p>'You shall tell me the rest, then,' he returned, gravely. Was she true +to her guardian, this girl; true in every fibre and feeling? or did her +faithful heart really cleave to the companion of her youth, calling her +love by the right name, and acknowledging it without fear?</p> + +<p>'Polly, this is no time for a half-truth; which shall it be? Is your +heart really mine, or does it belong to Roy?'</p> + +<p>She would have hidden her face in her hands, but he would not suffer it.</p> + +<p>'Child, you must answer me; there must be no shadow between us,' he +said, holding her before him. There was a touch of sternness in his +voice; but as she raised her eyes appealingly to his, she read there +nothing but pity and full understanding; for one moment she stood +irresolute, with palpitating heart and white quivering lips, and then +she threw herself into his arms.</p> + +<p>'Oh, Heriot, what shall I do? What shall I do? I love you both, but I +love Roy best.'</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>When Mildred re-entered the room, an hour later, somewhat weary of her +banishment, she found the two still talking together. Polly was sitting +in her little low chair, her cheek resting on her hand. Dr. Heriot +seemed speaking earnestly, but as the door opened, he broke off hastily, +and the girl started to her feet.</p> + +<p>'I must go now,' she whispered; 'don't tell Aunt Milly to-night. Oh, +Heriot, I am so happy; this seems like some wonderful dream; I don't +half believe it.'</p> + +<p>'We must guard each other's confidence. Remember, I have trusted you, +Polly,' was his answer, in a low tone. 'Good-night, my dearest child; +sleep well, and say a prayer for me.'</p> + +<p>'I do—I do pray for you always,' she affirmed, looking at him with her +soul in her eyes; but as he merely pressed her hand kindly, she suddenly +raised herself on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. 'Dear—dear Heriot, I +shall pray for you all my life long.'</p> + +<p>'Are you going, Polly?' asked Mildred, in surprise.</p> + +<p>'Yes, I am tired. I cannot talk any more to-night,' returned the girl, +hastily.</p> + +<p>Her face was pale, as though, she had been weeping; but her eyes smiled +radiantly under the wet lashes.</p> + +<p>Mildred turned to the fire, somewhat dissatisfied.</p> + +<p>'I hope things are right between you and Polly,' she said, anxiously, +when she and Dr. Heriot were left alone.</p> + +<p>'They have never been more so,' he replied, with a mischievous smile; +'for the first time we thoroughly understand ourselves and each other; +she is a dear good child, and deserves to be happy.' But as Mildred, +somewhat bewildered at the ambiguous tone, would have questioned him +still further, he gently but firmly changed the subject.</p> + +<p>It was a strange evening to Mildred; outside, the rain lashed the panes. +Dr. Heriot had drawn his arm-chair nearer to the glowing fire; he looked +spent and weary—some conflicting feelings seemed to fetter him with +sadness. Mildred, sitting at her little work-table, scarcely dared to +break the silence. Her own voice sounded strange to her. Once when she +looked up she saw his eyes were fixed upon her, but he withdrew them +again, and relapsed into his old thoughtfulness.</p> + +<p>By and by he began to talk, and then she laid down her work to listen. +Some strange chord of the past seemed stirred in the man's heart +to-night. All at once he mentioned his mother; her name was Mildred, he +said, looking into the embers as he spoke; and a little sister whom they +had lost in her childhood had been called Milly too. For their sakes the +name had always been dear to him. She was a good woman, he said, but her +one fault in his eyes had been that she had never loved Margaret; a +certain bitter scene between them had banished his widowed mother from +his house. Margaret had not understood her, and they were better apart; +but it had been a matter of grief to him.</p> + +<p>And then he began to talk of his wife—at first hesitatingly—and then, +as Mildred's silent sympathy seemed to open the long-closed valves, the +repressed sorrow of years began to find vent. Well might Mildred marvel +at the secret strength that had sustained the generous heart in its long +struggle, at 'the charity that suffered so long.' What could there have +been about this woman, that even degradation and shame could not weaken +his faithful love, that even in his misery he should still pity and +cleave to her.</p> + +<p>As though answering her thought, Dr. Heriot suddenly placed a miniature +in her hand.</p> + +<p>'That was taken when I first saw her,' he said, softly; 'but it does not +do her justice; and then, one cannot reproduce that magnificent voice. I +have never heard a voice like it.'</p> + +<p>Mildred bent over it for a moment without speaking; it was the face of a +girl taken in the first flush of her youth; but there was nothing +youthful in the face, which was full of a grave matured beauty.</p> + +<p>The dark melancholy eyes seemed to rivet Mildred's; a wild sorrow lurked +in their inscrutable depths; the brow spoke intellect and power; the +mouth had a passionate, irresolute curve. As she looked at it she felt +that it was a face that might well haunt a man to his sorrow.</p> + +<p>'It is beautiful—beautiful—but it oppresses me,' she said, laying it +down with a sigh. 'I cannot fancy it ever looking happy.'</p> + +<p>'No,' he returned, with a stifled voice. 'Her one trouble embittered her +life. I never remember seeing her look really happy till I placed our +boy in her arms; he taught her to smile first, and then he died, and our +happiness died with him.'</p> + +<p>'You must try to forget all this now,' she said, alluding to his +approaching marriage. 'It is not well to dwell upon so mournful a past.'</p> + +<p>'You are right; I think I shall bury it from this night,' he returned, +with a singular smile. 'I feel as though you have done me good, +Mildred—Miss Lambert—but now I am selfishly keeping you up, after all +your nursing too. Good-night.'</p> + +<p>He held her hand for a moment in both his; his eyes questioned the pale +worn face, anxiously, tenderly.</p> + +<p>'When are you going to get stronger? You do me no credit,' he said, +sadly.</p> + +<p>And his look and tone haunted her, in spite of her efforts. He had +called her Mildred too.</p> + +<p>'How strange that he should have told me all this about his wife. I am +glad he treats me as a friend,' she thought. 'A little while ago I could +not have spoken to him as I have to-night, but his manner puts me at my +ease. How can I help loving one of the noblest of God's creatures?'</p> + +<p>'Can you trust Roy to me this morning, Miss Lambert?' asked Dr. Heriot, +as they were sitting together after breakfast.</p> + +<p>Polly, who was arranging a jar of chrysanthemums, dropped a handful of +flowers on the floor, and stooped to pick them up.</p> + +<p>'I think Roy will like his old nurse best,' she returned, doubtfully.</p> + +<p>But Dr. Heriot looked obstinate.</p> + +<p>'A new regime and a new prescription might be beneficial,' he replied, +with a suspicion of a smile. 'Roy and I must have some conversation +together, and there's no time like the present,' and with a grave, +mischievous bow, he quietly quitted the room.</p> + +<p>'Aunt Milly, I must go and match those wools, and get the books for +Roy,' began Polly, hurriedly, as they were left alone. 'The rain does +not matter a bit, and the air is quite soft and warm.'</p> + +<p>Mildred shook her head.</p> + +<p>'You had better wait an hour or two till it clears up,' she said, +looking dubiously at the wet garden paths and soaking rain. 'I am going +to my own room to write letters. I have one from Olive that I must +answer. If you will wait until the afternoon, Dr. Heriot will go with +you.'</p> + +<p>But Polly was not to be dissuaded; she had nothing to do, she was +restless, and wanted a walk; and Roy must have his third volume when he +came down.</p> + +<p>It was not often that Polly chose to be wilful, and this time she had +her way. Now and then Mildred paused in the midst of her correspondence +to wonder what had detained the girl so long. Once or twice she rose and +went to the window to see if she could catch a glimpse of the dark blue +cloak and black hat but hours passed and she did not return.</p> + +<p>By and by Dr. Heriot's quick eyes saw a swift shadow cross the studio +window; and, as Polly stole noiselessly into the dark passage, she found +herself captured.</p> + +<p>'Naughty child, where have you been?' he said, removing her wet cloak, +and judging for himself that she had sustained no further damage.</p> + +<p>Polly's cheeks, rosy with exercise, paled a little, and she pleaded +piteously to be set free.</p> + +<p>'Just for a moment, Heriot. Please let me go for a moment. I will come +presently.'</p> + +<p>'You are not to be trusted,' he replied, not leaving hold of her. 'Do +you think this excitement is good for Roy—that in his state he can bear +it. He has been dressed and waiting for you for hours. You must think of +him, Polly, not of yourself.' And Polly resisted no longer.</p> + +<p>She followed Dr. Heriot, with downcast eyes, into the studio. Roy was +not on his couch; he was standing on the rug, in his velvet coat; one +thin hand grasped the mantelpiece nervously: the other was stretched out +to Polly.</p> + +<p>'You must not let him excite himself,' was Dr. Heriot's warning, as he +left them together.</p> + +<p>Poor Polly, she stood irresolute, not daring to advance, or look up, and +wishing that the ground would swallow her.</p> + +<p>'Polly—dear Polly—will you not come to me?' and Roy walked feebly to +meet her. Before she could move or answer, his arms were round her. 'My +Polly—my own now,' he cried, rapturously pressing her to him with weak +force; 'Heriot has given you to me.'</p> + +<p>Polly looked up at her young lover shyly. Roy's face was flushed, his +eyes were shining with happiness, a half-proud, half-humble expression +lingered round his mouth; the arm that supported her trembled with +weakness.</p> + +<p>'Oh, Rex, how wrong of me to let you stand,' she said, waking up from +her bewilderment; 'you must lie down, and I will take my old place +beside you.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, he has given you the right to nurse me now,' whispered Roy, as she +arranged the cushions under his head. 'I am more than your adopted +brother now.' And Polly's happy blush was her only answer.</p> + +<p>'You will never refuse to sing to me again?' he said presently, when +their agitation had a little subsided.</p> + +<p>'No, and you will let me have my old ring,' she returned, softly. 'Oh, +Rex, I cried half the night, when you would not let me wear it. I never +cared so much for my beautiful diamonds.'</p> + +<p>A misty smile crossed Roy's face.</p> + +<p>'No, Polly, I never mean to part with it again. Look here,'—and he +showed her the garnets suspended to his watch-chain—'we will exchange +rings in the old German fashion, dear. I will keep the garnets, and I +will buy you the pearl hoop you admired so much; you must remember, you +have chosen only a poor artist.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, Rex, how I shall glory in your pictures!' cried the girl, +breathlessly. 'I have always loved them for your sake, but now it will +be so different. They will be dearer than ever to me.'</p> + +<p>'I never could have worked without you, Polly,' returned the young man, +humbly. 'I tried, but it was a miserable failure; it was your childish +praise that first made me seriously think of being an artist; and when +you failed me, all the spirit seemed to die out of me, just as the +sunshine fades out of a landscape, leaving nothing but a gray mist. Oh, +Polly, even you scarcely know how wretched you made me.'</p> + +<p>'Do not let us talk of it,' she whispered, pressing closer to him; 'let +us only try to deserve our happiness.'</p> + +<p>'That is what he said,' replied Roy, in a low voice. 'He told me that we +were very young to have such a responsibility laid upon us, and that we +must help each other. Oh, what a good man he is,' he continued, with +some emotion, 'and to think that at one time I almost hated him.'</p> + +<p>'You could not help it,' she answered, shyly. To her there was no flaw +in her young lover; his impatience and jealousy, his hot and cold fits +that had so sorely tried her, his singular outbursts of temper, had only +been natural under the circumstances; she would have forgiven him harder +usage than that; but Roy judged himself more truly.</p> + +<p>'No, dear, you must not excuse me,' was the truthful answer. 'I bore my +trouble badly, and made every one round me wretched; and now all these +coals of fire are heaped upon me. If he had been my brother, he could +not have borne with me more gently. Oh,' cried the lad, earnestly, 'it +is something to see into the depths of a good man's heart. I think I saw +more than he meant me to do, but time will prove. One thing is certain, +that he never loved you as I do, Polly.'</p> + +<p>'No; it was all a strange mistake,' she returned, blushing and smiling; +'but hush! here comes Aunt Milly.'</p> + +<p>'Am I interrupting you?' asked Mildred, a little surprised at Polly's +anxious start.</p> + +<p>She had moved a little away from Roy; but now he stretched out his hand +to detain her.</p> + +<p>'No, don't go, Aunt Milly,' and a gleam of mischief shot from his blue +eyes. 'Polly has only been telling me a new version of the old song—"It +is well to be off with the old love before you are on with the new." +After all, Polly has found out that she likes me best.'</p> + +<p>'Children, what do you mean?' returned Mildred, somewhat sternly.</p> + +<p>Polly and even Roy were awed by the change in her manner; a sort of +spasm crossed her face, and then the features became almost rigid.</p> + +<p>'Aunt Milly, don't be angry with us,' faltered Polly; and her breast +heaved a little. Did this dearest and gentlest creature, who had stood +her in the stead of mother, think she was wrong? 'Listen to me, dear; I +would have married Heriot, but he would not let me; he showed me what +was the truth—that my heart was more Roy's than his, and then he +brought us together; it is all his doing, not Roy's.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, it was all my doing,' repeated Dr. Heriot, who had followed +Mildred in unperceived. 'Did I not tell you last night that Polly and I +never understood each other so well;' and he put his arm round the girl +with almost fatherly fondness, as he led her to Mildred. 'You must blame +me, and not this poor child, for all that has happened.'</p> + +<p>But the colour did not return to Mildred's face; she seemed utterly +bewildered. Dr. Heriot wore his inscrutable expression; he looked grave, +but not otherwise unhappy.</p> + +<p>'I suppose it is all for the best,' she said, somewhat unsteadily. 'I +had hoped that Polly would have been a comfort to you, but it seems +you—you are never to have that.'</p> + +<p>'It will come to me in time,' he returned, with a strange smile; 'at +least, I hope so.'</p> + +<p>'Come here, Aunt Milly,' interrupted Roy; and as Mildred stooped over +her boy he looked up in her face with the old Rex-like smile.</p> + +<p>'Dr. Heriot says I should never have lived if it had not been for you, +Aunt Milly. You have given me back my life, and he has given me Polly, +and,' cried the lad, and now his lips quivered, 'God bless you both.'</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXII" id="CHAPTER_XXXII"></a>CHAPTER XXXII</h2> + +<h3>A TALK IN FAIRLIGHT GLEN</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O finer far! What work so high as mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Interpreter betwixt the world and man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nature's ungathered pearls to set and shrine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The mystery she wraps her in to scan;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her unsyllabic voices to combine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And serve her with such love as poets can;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With mortal words, her chant of praise to bind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then die, and leave the poem to mankind?'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jean Ingelow.</span><br /></span> +</div></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>Dr. Heriot did not stay long in London; as soon as his mission was +accomplished he set his face resolutely homewards.</p> + +<p>Christmas was fast approaching, and it was necessary to make +arrangements for Roy's removal to Hastings, and after much discussion +and a plentiful interchange of letters between the cottage and the +vicarage, it was finally settled that Mildred and Richard should remain +with the invalid until Olive and Mr. Lambert should take their place.</p> + +<p>Mr. Lambert was craving for a sight of his boy, but he could not feel +justified in devolving his duties on his curate until after the +Epiphany, nor would Olive consent to leave him; so Mildred bravely +stifled her homesick longings, and kept watch over the young lovers, +smiling to herself over Roy's boyishness and Polly's fruitless efforts +after staidness.</p> + +<p>From the low bow-window jutting on to the beach, in the quiet corner +where Richard had found them lodgings, she would often sit following the +young pair with softly amused eyes as they stood hand in hand with the +waves lapping to their feet; at the first streak of sunset they would +come slowly up the shore. Roy still tall and gaunt, but with a faint +tinge of returning health in his face; Polly fresh and blooming as a +rose, and trying hard to stay her dancing feet to fit his feeble paces.</p> + +<p>'What have you done with Richard, children?' Mildred would ask as usual.</p> + +<p>'Dick? ah, he decamped long ago, with the trite and novel observation +that "two are company and three none." We saw him last in the midst of +an admiring crowd of fishermen. Dick always knows when he is not wanted, +eh, Polly?'</p> + +<p>'I am afraid we treat him very badly,' returned Polly, blushing. Roy +threw himself down on the couch with a burst of laughter. His mirth had +hardly died away when his brother entered.</p> + +<p>'You have got back, Roy—that's right. I was just going in search of +you. There is a treacherous wind this evening. You were standing still +ever so long after I left you.'</p> + +<p>'That comes of you leaving us, you see,' replied Roy, slyly. 'It took us +just half an hour to discover the reason of your abrupt departure.' +Richard's eyes twinkled with dry humour.</p> + +<p>'One must confess to being bored at times. Keppel was far more +entertaining company than you and Polly. When I am in despair for a +little sensible conversation I must come to Aunt Milly.'</p> + +<p>Aunt Milly was the universal sympathiser, as usual. Richard's patience +would have been sorely put to proof, but for those grave-toned talks in +the wintry twilights, with which the gray sea and sky seemed so +strangely to harmonise. In spite of his unselfishness, the sight of his +brother's happiness could not fail to elicit at times a disturbing sense +of contrast. Who could tell what years rolled between him and the +fruition of his hope?</p> + +<p>'In patience and confidence must be your strength, Richard,' Mildred +once said, as they stood looking over the dim waste of waters, gray +everywhere, save where the white lips touched the shore; behind them was +the dark Castle Hill; windy flickers of light came from the esplanade; +far out to sea a little star trembled and wavered like the timid pioneer +of unknown light; a haze of uncertainty bordered earth and sky; the soft +wash of the insidious waves was tuneful and soothing as a lullaby. The +neutral tints, the colourless conditions, neither light nor dark, even +the faint wrapping mist that came like a cloud from the sea, harmonised +with Mildred's feelings as she quoted the text softly. An irrepressible +shiver ran through the young man's frame. Waiting, did he not know what +was before him—years of uncertainty, of alternate hopes and fears.</p> + +<p>'Yes, I know,' he replied, with an accent of impatience in his voice. +'You are right, of course; one can only wait. As for patience, it is +hardly an attribute of youth; one learns it by degrees, but all the +same, uncertainty and these low gray skies oppress one. Sea-fog does not +enhance cheerfulness, Aunt Milly. Let us go in.'</p> + +<p>Richard's moods of discontent were brief and rare. He was battling +bravely with his disappointment. He had always been grave and staid +beyond his years, but now faintly-drawn lines were plainly legible in +the smooth forehead, and a steady concentrated light in the brown eyes +bore witness to abiding and careful thought. At times his brother's +unreasoning boyishness seemed almost to provoke him; want of earnestness +was always a heinous sin in his judgment. Roy more than once winced +under some unpalatable home-truth which Richard uttered in all good +faith and with the best intentions in the world.</p> + +<p>'Dick is the finest fellow breathing, but if he would only leave off +sermonising until he is ordained,' broke out Roy, with a groan, when he +and Mildred were alone; but Mildred was too well aware of their +affection for each other to be made uneasy by any petulance on Roy's +part. He would rail at his brother's advice, and then most likely digest +and follow it; but she gave Richard a little hint once.</p> + +<p>'Leave them alone; their happiness is still so new to them,' pleaded the +softhearted woman. 'You can't expect Rex to look beyond the present yet, +now Polly is with him—when he is stronger he will settle down to work.' +And though Richard shook his head a little incredulously, he wisely held +his peace.</p> + +<p>But he would have bristled over with horror and amazement if he had +known half of the extravagant daydreams and plans which Roy was for ever +pouring into Aunt Milly's ear. Roy, who was as impetuous in his +love-making as in other things, could not be made to understand that +there was any necessity for waiting; that Polly should be due north +while he was due south was clearly an absurdity to his mind, and he +would argue the point until Mildred was fairly bewildered.</p> + +<p>'Rex, my dear boy, do be reasonable,' she pleaded once; 'what would +Richard say if he heard you? You must give up this daft scheme of yours; +it is contrary to all common sense. Why, you have never earned fifty +pounds by your painting yet.'</p> + +<p>'Excuse me, Aunt Milly, but it is so difficult to make women see +anything in a business point of view,' replied the invalid, somewhat +loftily. 'Polly understands me, of course, but she is an exception to +the general rule. I defy any one—even you, Aunt Milly—to beat Polly in +common sense.'</p> + +<p>'He means, of course, if his picture be sold,' returned Polly, sturdily, +who feared nothing in the world but separation from Roy. She was ready +to eat bread and cheese cheerfully all her life, she thought. Both young +people were in the hazy atmosphere of all youthful lovers, when a crust +appears a picturesque and highly desirable food, and rent and taxes and +all such contemptible items are delusions of the evil one, fostered in +the brain of careful parents.</p> + +<p>'Of course Rex only means if his picture sells at a good price. He will +then be sure of work from the dealers.'</p> + +<p>'There, I told you so,' repeated Roy, triumphantly, 'as though Polly did +not know the ups and downs of an artist's life better than you, or even +me, Aunt Milly. It is not as though we expected champagne and silk +dresses, and all sorts of unnecessary luxuries.'</p> + +<p>'Or velvet coats,' quietly added Mildred, and Roy looked a little +crestfallen.</p> + +<p>'Aunt Milly, how can you be so unkind, so disagreeable?' cried Polly, +with a little burst of indignation. 'I shall wear print dresses or cheap +stuff. There was such a pretty one at sevenpence-halfpenny the yard, at +Oliver's; but of course Rex must have his velvet coat, it looks so well +on an artist, and suits him so. I would not have Roy look shabby and out +of elbows, like Dad Fabian, for the world.'</p> + +<p>'You would look very pretty in a print dress, Polly, I don't doubt,' +returned Roy, a little sadly; 'but Aunt Milly is right, and it would not +match my velvet coat. We must be consistent, as Richard says.'</p> + +<p>'Cashmere is not so very dear, and it wears splendidly,' returned Polly, +in the tone of one elated by a new discovery, 'and with a fresh ribbon +now and then I shall look as well as I do now. You don't suppose I mean +to be a slattern if we are ever so poor. But you shall have your velvet +coat, if I have to pawn the watch Dr. Heriot gave me.' And Roy's answer +was not meant for Mildred to hear.</p> + +<p>Mildred felt as though she were turning the page of some story-book as +she listened to their talk. How charmingly unreal it all sounded; how +splendidly coloured with youth and happiness. After all, they were not +ambitious. The rooms at the little cottage at Frognal bounded all their +desires. The studio with the cross light and faded drapery, the worn +couch and little square piano, was to be their living room. Polly was to +work and sing, while Roy painted. Dull! how could they be dull when they +had each other? Polly would go to market, and prepare dainty little +dishes out of nothing; she would train flowers round the porch and under +the windows, and keep chickens in the empty coop by the arbour. With +plenty of eggs and fresh vegetables, their expenses would be trifling. +Dugald had taught Rex to make potato soup and herring salad. Why, he and +Dugald had spent he did not know how little a week, and of course his +father would help him. Polly was penniless and an orphan, and it was his +duty to work for her as well as for himself.</p> + +<p>Mildred wondered what Dr. Heriot would think of the young people's +proposition. As Polly was under age he had a voice in the matter, but +she held her peace on this subject. After all, it was only a daydream—a +very pleasant picture. She was conscious of a vague feeling of regret +that things could not be as they planned. Roy was boyish and impulsive, +but Polly might be trusted, she thought. Every now and then there was a +little spirit of shrewdness and humour in the girl's words that bubbled +to the surface.</p> + +<p>'Roy will always be wanting to buy new books and new music, but I shall +punish him by liking the old ones best,' she said, with a laugh. 'And no +more boxes of cigarettes, or bottles of lavender-water; and oh, Rex, you +know your extravagance in gloves.'</p> + +<p>'I shall only wear them on Sundays,' replied Roy, virtuously, 'and I +shall smoke pipes—an honest meerschaum after all is more enjoyable, and +in the evenings we will take long walks towards Hendon or Barnet. Polly +is a famous walker, and on fine Sundays we will go to Westminister +Abbey, or St. Paul's, or some of the grand old city churches; one can +hear fine music at the Foundling, and at St. Andrew's, Wells Street +Polly does not know half the delights of living in London.'</p> + +<p>'She will know it in good time,' returned Mildred, softly. She would not +take upon herself to damp their expectations; in a little while they +would learn to be reasonable. In the meanwhile she indulged in the +petting that was with her as a second nature.</p> + +<p>But it was a relief when her brother and Olive arrived; she had no idea +how much she had missed them, until she caught sight of her brother's +bowed figure and gray head, and Olive's grave, sallow face beside it.</p> + +<p>It was an exciting evening. Mr. Lambert was overjoyed at seeing his son +again, though much shocked at the still visible evidences of past +suffering. Polly was warmly welcomed with a fatherly blessing, and he +was so much occupied with the young pair, that Mildred was at liberty to +devote herself to Olive.</p> + +<p>She followed her into her room ostensibly to assist in unpacking, but +they soon fell into one of their old talks.</p> + +<p>'Dear Olive,' she said, kissing her, 'you don't know how good it is to +see you again. I never believed I could miss you so much.'</p> + +<p>'You have not missed me half so much as I have you,' returned Olive, +blushing with surprised pleasure. 'I always feel so lost without you, +Aunt Milly. When I wanted you very badly—more than usual, I mean—I +used to go into your room and think over all the comforting talks we +have had together, and then try and fancy what you would tell me to do +in such and such cases.'</p> + +<p>'Dear child, that was drawing from a very shallow well. I remember I +told you to fold up all your perplexities in your letters, and I would +try and unravel them for you; but I see you were afraid of troubling +me.'</p> + +<p>'That was one reason, certainly; but I had another as well. I could not +forget what you told me once about the bracing effects of self-decision +in most circumstances, and how you once laughingly compared me to Mr. +Ready-to-Halt, and advised me to throw away my crutches.'</p> + +<p>'In other words, solving your own difficulties; certainly I meant what I +said. Grown-up persons are so fond of thinking for young people, instead +of training them to think for themselves, and then they are surprised +that the brain struggles so slowly from the swaddling-bands that they +themselves have wrapped round them.'</p> + +<p>'It was easier than I thought,' returned Olive, slowly; 'at first I +tormented myself in my old way, and was tempted to renew my arguments +about conflicting duties, till I remembered there must be a right and +wrong in everything, or at least by comparison a better way.'</p> + +<p>'Why, you have grown quite a philosopher, Olive; I shall be proud of my +pupil,' and Mildred looked affectionately at her niece. What a +noble-looking woman Olive would be, she thought. True, the face was +colourless, and the features far too strongly marked for beauty; but the +mild, dark eyes and shadowy hair redeemed it from plainness, and the +speaking, yet subdued, intelligence that lingered behind the hesitating +speech produced a pleasing impression; yet Mildred, who knew the face so +well, fancied a shadow of past or present sadness tinged the even +gravity that was its prevailing expression.</p> + +<p>Olive's thoughts unfolded slowly like flowers—they always needed the +sunshine of sympathy; a keen breath, the light mockery of incredulity, +killed them on the spot. Now of her own accord she began to speak of the +young lovers.</p> + +<p>'How happy dear Roy looks; Polly is just suited for him. Do you know, +Aunt Milly, I had a sort of presentiment of this, it always seemed to me +that she and Dr. Heriot were making believe to like each other.'</p> + +<p>'I think Dr. Heriot was tolerably in earnest, Olive.'</p> + +<p>'Of course he meant to be; but I always thought there was too much +benevolence for the right thing; and as for Polly—oh, it was easy to +see that she only tried to be in love—it quite tired her out, the +trying I mean, and made her cross and pettish with us sometimes.'</p> + +<p>'I never gave you credit for so much observation.'</p> + +<p>'I daresay not,' returned Olive, simply, 'only one wakes up sometimes to +find things are turning out all wrong. Do you know they puzzled me +to-night—Rex and Polly, I mean. I expected to find them so different, +and they are just the same.'</p> + +<p>'How do you mean? I should think it would be difficult to find two +happier creatures anywhere; they behave as most young people do under +the circumstances, are never willingly out of each other's sight, and +talk plenty of nonsense.'</p> + +<p>'That is just what I cannot make out; it seems such a solemn and +beautiful thing to me, that I cannot understand treating it in any other +way. Why, they were making believe to quarrel just now, and Polly was +actually pouting.'</p> + +<p>Mildred with difficulty refrained from a smile.</p> + +<p>'They do that just for the pleasure of making it up again. If you could +see them this moment you would find them like a pair of cooing doves; it +will be "Poor Rex!" and "Dear Rex!" all the evening. There is no doubt +of his affection for her, Olive; it nearly cost his life.'</p> + +<p>'That is only an additional reason for treating it seriously. If any one +cared for me in that way,' went on Olive, blushing slightly over her +words—'not that I could believe such a thing possible,' interrupting +herself.</p> + +<p>'Why not, you very wise woman?' asked her aunt, amused by this voluntary +confession. Never before had Olive touched on this threadbare and +oft-maligned subject of love.</p> + +<p>'Aunt Milly, as though you could speak of such a thing as probable!' +returned Olive, with a slight rebuke in her voice. 'Putting aside +plainness, and want of attraction, and that sort of thing, do you think +any man would find me a helpmeet?'</p> + +<p>'He must be the right sort of man, of course,'—'a direct opposite to +you in everything,' she was about to add, but checked herself.</p> + +<p>'But if the right sort is not to be found, Aunt Milly?' with a touch of +quaintness that at times tinged her gravity with humour. 'Didn't you +know "Much-Afraid" was an old maid?'</p> + +<p>'We must get rid of all these old names, Olive; they will not fit now.'</p> + +<p>'All the same, of course I know these things are not possible with me. +Imagine being a wet blanket to a man all his life! But what I was going +to say was, that if any one cared for me as Rex does for Polly, I should +think it the next solemn thing to death—quite as beautiful and not so +terrible. Fancy,' warming with the visionary subject, 'just fancy, Aunt +Milly, being burdened with the whole happiness and well-being of +another—never to think alone again!'</p> + +<p>'Dear Olive, you cannot expect all lovers to indulge in these +metaphysics; commonplace minds remain commonplace—the Divinities are +silent within them.'</p> + +<p>'I think this is why I dislike the subject introduced into general +conversation,' replied Olive, pondering heavily over her words; 'people +are for ever dragging it in. So-and-so is to be married next week, and +then a long description of the bride's trousseau and the bridesmaids' +dresses; the idea is as paganish as the undertaker's plume of feathers +and mutes at a funeral.'</p> + +<p>'I agree with you there; people almost always treat the subject +coarsely, or in a matter-of-fact way. A wedding-show is a very pretty +thing to outsiders, but, like you, Olive, I have often marvelled at the +absence of all solemnity.'</p> + +<p>'I suppose it jars upon me more than on others because I dislike talking +on what interests me most. I think sacred things should be treated +sacredly. But how I am wandering on, and there was so much I wanted to +tell you!'</p> + +<p>'Never mind, I will hear it all to-morrow. I must not let you fatigue +yourself after such a journey. Now I will finish the unpacking while you +sit and rest yourself.'</p> + +<p>Olive was too docile and too really weary to resist. She sat silently +watching Mildred's brisk movements, till the puzzled look in the dark +eyes passed into drowsiness.</p> + +<p>'The Eternal voice,' she murmured, as she laid her head on the pillow, +and Mildred bade her good-night, 'it seems to lull one into rest, though +a tired child would sleep without rocking listening to it;' and so the +slow, majestic washing of the waves bore her into dreamland.</p> + +<p>Mildred did not find an opportunity of resuming the conversation until +the following afternoon, when Richard had planned a walk to Fairlight +Glen, in which Polly reluctantly joined; but Mildred, who knew Roy and +his father had much to say to each other, had insisted on not leaving +her behind.</p> + +<p>She was punished by having a very silent companion all the way, as +Richard had carried off Olive; but by and by Polly's conscience pricked +her for ill-humour and selfishness, and when they reached the Glen, her +hand stole into Mildred's muff with a penitent squeeze, and her spirits +rising with the exhilaration of the long walk, she darted off in pursuit +of Olive and brought her back, while she offered herself in her place to +Richard.</p> + +<p>'You have monopolised her all the way, and I know she is dying for a +talk with Aunt Milly; you must put up with me instead,' said the little +lady, defiantly.</p> + +<p>Mildred and Olive meanwhile seated themselves on one of the benches +overlooking the Glen; the spot was sheltered, and the air mild and soft +for January; there were patches of cloudy blue to be seen through the +leafless trees, which looked like a procession of gray, hoary skeletons +in the hazy light.</p> + +<p>'Woods have a beauty of their own in winter,' observed Mildred, as she +noticed Olive's satisfied glance round her. Visible beauty always rested +her, Olive often said.</p> + +<p>'Its attraction is the attraction of death,' returned her companion, +thoughtfully. 'Look at these old giants waiting for their resurrection, +to be "clothed upon," that is just the expression, Aunt Milly.'</p> + +<p>'With their dead hopes at their feet; you are teaching me to be +poetical, Olive. Don't you love the feeling of those crisp yellow leaves +crunching softly under one's feet? I think a leaf-race in a high wind is +one of the most delicious things in nature.'</p> + +<p>'Ask Cardie what he thinks of that.'</p> + +<p>'Cardie would say we are talking highflown nonsense. I can never make +him share my admiration for that soft gray light one sees in winter. I +remember we were walking over Hillsbottom one lovely February afternoon; +the shades of the landscape were utterly indescribable, half light, and +yet so softly blended, the gray tone of the buildings was absolutely +warm—that intense grayness—and all I could get him to say was, that +Kirkby Stephen was a very ugly town.'</p> + +<p>'Roy is more sympathetic about colours; Cardie likes strong contrasts, +decided sunsets, better than the glimmering of moonlight nights; he can +be enthusiastic enough over some things. I have heard him talk +beautifully to Ethel.'</p> + +<p>'By the bye, you have told me nothing of her. Is she still away?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, but they are expecting her back this week or next. It seems such a +pity Kirkleatham is so often empty. Mrs. Delaware says it is quite a +loss to the place.'</p> + +<p>'It is certainly very unsatisfactory; but now about your work, Olive; +how does it progress?'</p> + +<p>Olive hesitated. 'I will talk to you about that presently; there is +something else that may interest you to hear. Do you know Mr. Marsden is +thinking of leaving us?'</p> + +<p>Mildred uttered an expression of surprise and disappointment. 'Oh, I +hope it is not true!' she reiterated, in a regretful tone.</p> + +<p>'You say that because you do not know,' returned Olive, with her wonted +soft seriousness; 'he has told me everything. Only think, Aunt Milly, he +asked my advice, and really seemed to think I could help him to a +decision. Fancy my helping any one to decide a difficult question,' with +a smile that seemed to cover deeper feelings.</p> + +<p>'Why not? it only means that he has recognised your earnestness and +thorough honesty of purpose. There is nothing like honesty to inspire +confidence, Olive. I am sure you would help him to a very wise +decision.'</p> + +<p>'I think he had already decided for himself before he came to me,' +returned the girl, meditatively; 'one can always tell when a man has +made up his mind to do a thing. You see he has always felt an +inclination for missionary work, and this really seems a direct call.'</p> + +<p>'You forget you have not enlightened me on the subject,' hinted Mildred, +gently.</p> + +<p>'How stupid of me, but I will begin from the beginning. Mr. Marsden told +me one morning that he had had letters from his uncle, Archdeacon +Champneys, one of the most energetic workers in the Bloemfontein +Mission. You have read all about it, Aunt Milly, in the quarterly +papers. Don't you recollect how interested we all were about it?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, I remember. Richard seemed quite enthusiastic about it.'</p> + +<p>'Well, the Archdeacon wrote that they were in pressing need of clergy. +Look, I have the letter with me. Mr. Marsden said I might show it to +you. He has marked the passage that has so impressed him.'</p> + +<blockquote><p>'I am at my wits' end to know how to induce clergy to come out. +Do you know of any priest who would come to our help? If you +do, for God's sake use your influence to induce him to come.</p> + +<p>'We want help for the Diamond Fields; Theological College +Brotherhood at Middleport; Itinerating work; Settled Parochial +work at Philippolis and elsewhere.</p> + +<p>'We want men with strong hearts and active, healthy frames—men +with the true missionary spirit—with fixedness of will and +undaunted purpose, ready to battle against obstacles, and to +endure peacefully the "many petty, prosaic, commonplace, and +harassing trials" that beset a new work. If you know such an +one, bid him Godspeed, and help him to find his way to us. I +promise you we shall see his face as the "face of an angel."'</p></blockquote> + +<p>'A pressing appeal,' sighed Mildred; she experienced a vague regret she +hardly understood.</p> + +<p>'Mr. Marsden felt it to be such. Oh, I wish you had heard him talk. He +said, as a boy he had always felt a drawing to this sort of work; that +with his health and strength and superabundant energies he was fitter +for the rough life of the colonies than for the secondary and +supplementary life of an ordinary English curate. "Give me plenty of +space and I could do the work of three men," and as he said it he +stretched out his arms. You know his way, Aunt Milly, that makes one +feel how big and powerful he is.'</p> + +<p>'He may be right, but how we shall miss him,' returned Mildred, who had +a thorough respect and liking for big, clumsy Hugh.</p> + +<p>'Not more than he will miss us, he says. He will have it we have done +him so much good; but there is one thing he feels, that Richard will +soon be able to take his place. In any case he will not go until the +autumn, not then if his mother be still alive.'</p> + +<p>'Is he still so hopeless about her condition?'</p> + +<p>'How can he be otherwise, Aunt Milly, when the doctor tells him it is +only a question of time. Did you hear that he has resigned all share in +the little legacy that has lately come to them? He says it will make +them so comfortable that they will not need to keep their little school +any longer; is it not good of him?' went on Olive, warming into +enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>'I think he has done the right thing, just what I should have expected +him to do. And so you have strengthened him in his decision, Olive?'</p> + +<p>'How could I help it?' she returned, simply. 'Can there be any life so +noble, so self-denying? I told him once that I envied him, and he looked +so pleased, and then the tears came into his eyes, and he seemed as +though he wanted to say something, but checked himself. Do you know,' +drooping her head and speaking in a deprecating tone, 'that hearing him +talk like this made me feel dissatisfied with myself and—and my work?'</p> + +<p>'Poor little nightingale! you would rather be a working bee,' observed +Mildred, smiling. This was the meaning then of the shadowed brightness +she had noticed last night.</p> + +<p>'No, but somehow I could not help feeling his work was more real. The +very self-sacrifice it involves sets it apart in a higher place, and +then the direct blessing, Aunt Milly,' with an effort. 'What good does +my poetry do to any one but myself?'</p> + +<p>'St. Paul speaks of the diversities of gifts,' returned Mildred, +soothingly. She saw that daily contact with perfect health and intense +vitality and usefulness had deadened the timid and imaginative forces +that worked beneath the surface in the girl's mind; a warped sense of +duty or fear from the legions of her old enemies had beset her pleasure +with sick loathing—for some reason or other Olive's creative work had +lain idle.</p> + +<p>'Do you recollect the talent laid up in the napkin, Olive?'</p> + +<p>'But if it should not be a talent, rather a temptation,' whispered the +girl, under her breath. 'No, I cannot believe it is that, after all, +Aunt Milly, only I have got weary about it. Have I not chosen the work I +liked best—the easiest, the most attractive?'</p> + +<p>'Do you think a repulsive service would please our beneficent Creator +best?'</p> + +<p>Olive was silent. Were the old shadows creeping round her again?</p> + +<p>'Your work just now seems very small by the side of Mr. Marsden's. His +vocation and consecration to a new work in some way, and by comparison, +overshadows yours; perhaps, unconsciously, his words have left an +unfavourable impression; you know how sensitive you are, Olive.'</p> + +<p>'He never imagined that they could influence me.'</p> + +<p>'No, he is the kindest-hearted being in the world, and would not +willingly damp any one, but all the same he might unconsciously vaunt +his work before your eyes; but before we decide on the reality or +unreality of your talent, I want to recall something to your mind that +this same good Bishop of Bloemfontein said in his paper on women's work. +I remember how greatly I was struck with it. His exact words, as far as +I can remember them, were—"that work—missionary work—demands fair +health, unshattered nerves, and that general equableness of spirits +which so largely depends upon the physical state. A morbid mind or +conscience" (mark that, Olive) "is unfit for the work."'</p> + +<p>'But, Aunt Milly,' blushing slightly, 'I never meant that I thought +myself fit for mission work. You do not think that I would ever leave +papa?'</p> + +<p>'No, but a certain largeness of view may help us to exorcise the uneasy +demon that is harassing you. You may not have Bloemfontein in your +thoughts, but you may be trying to work yourself into the belief that +God may be better pleased if you immolate your favourite and peculiar +talent and devote yourself to some repugnant ministry of good works +where you would probably do more harm than good.'</p> + +<p>'I confess some such thoughts as these have been troubling me.'</p> + +<p>'I read them in your eyes. So genius is given for no purpose but to be +thrown aside like a useless toy. What a degradation of a sacred thing! +How could you be such a traitor to your own order, Olive? This +vacillating mood of yours makes me ashamed.'</p> + +<p>'I wish you would scold me out of it, Aunt Milly; you are doing me good +already. Any kind of doubt makes me positively unhappy, and I really did +begin to believe that I had mistaken my vocation.'</p> + +<p>'Olive will always be Olive as long as she lives,' returned Mildred, in +a grieved tone; but as the girl shrank back somewhat pained, she +hastened to say—'I think doubtfulness—the inward tremblings of the +fibres of hope and fear—are your peculiar temptation. How would you +repel any evil suggestion that came to you, Olive—any unmistakably bad +thought, I mean?'</p> + +<p>'I would try and shut my mind to it, not look at it,' replied Olive, +warmly.</p> + +<p>'Repel it with disdain. Well, I think I should deal with your doubts in +the same way; if they will not yield after a good stand-up fight, +entrench yourself in your citadel and shut the door on them. Every work +of God is good, is it not?'</p> + +<p>'The Bible says so.'</p> + +<p>'Then yours must be good, since He has given you the power and delight +in putting together beautiful thoughts for the pleasure and, I trust, +the benefit of His creatures, and especially as you have dedicated it to +His service. What if after all you are right?' she continued, presently, +'and if it be not the very highest work, can you not be among "the +little ones" that do His will? Will not this present duty and care for +your father and the small daily charities that lie on your threshold +suffice until a more direct call be given to you? It may come—I do not +say it will not, Olive; but I am sure that the present work is your duty +now.'</p> + +<p>'You have lifted a burden off me,' returned Olive, gratefully, and there +was something in the clear shining of her eyes that echoed the truth of +her words; 'it was not that I loved my work less, but that I tried not +to love it. I like what you said, Aunt Milly, about being one of "His +little ones."'</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXIII</h2> + +<h3>'YES'</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Some one came and rested there beside me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Speaking words I never thought would bless<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such a loveless life. I longed to hide me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Feasting lonely on my happiness.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But the voice I heard<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pleaded for a word,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till I gave my whispered answer, "Yes!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Yes, that little word, so calmly spoken,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Changed all life for me—my own—my own!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the cold gray spell I saw unbroken,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the twilight days seemed past and gone.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And how warm and bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the ruddy light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pleasant June days of the future shone!'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Helen Marion Burnside.</span><br /></span> +</div></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>It was with mingled feelings of pleasure and regret that Mildred saw the +gray walls of the vicarage again. It was harder than she imagined to say +good-bye to Roy, knowing that she would not see him again until the +summer, but her position as nurse had long become a sinecure; the place +was now rightfully usurped by his young betrothed. The sea-breezes had +already proved so beneficial to his health, that it was judged that he +might safely be permitted at the end of another month to resume work in +the old studio, by which time idleness and love-making might be expected +to lose their novelty, and Mildred hoped that Polly would settle down +happily with the others, when her good sense should be convinced that an +early marriage would be prejudicial to Roy's interest.</p> + +<p>It was very strange to find Chriss the only welcoming home +presence—Chriss in office was a highly ludicrous idea. She had taken +advantage of her three days' housekeeping to introduce striking reforms +in the <i>ménage</i>, against which Nan had stormed and threatened in vain; +the housemaid looked harassed, and the parlour-maid on the eve of giving +warning; the little figure with the touzled curls and holland apron, and +rattling keys, depending from the steel chatelaine, looked oddly +picturesque in the house porch as the travellers drove up. When Mr. +Marsden came in after even-song to inquire after their well-being, and +Richard insisted on his remaining to tea, Chriss looked mightily haughty +and put on her eye-glasses, and presided at the head of the table in a +majestic way that tried her aunt's gravity. 'The big young man,' as she +still phrased Hugh Marsden, was never likely to be a favourite with +Chriss; but she thawed presently under Mildred's genial influence; no +one knew so well how to bend the prickles, and draw out the wholesome +sweetness that lay behind. By the end of the third cup, Chriss was able +to remember perfectly that Mr. Marsden did not take sugar, and could +pass his cup without a glacial stare or a tendency to imitate the +swelling and ruffling out of a dignified robin.</p> + +<p>At the end of the evening, Mildred, who had by that time grown a little +weary and silent, heard the footstep in the lobby for which she had been +unconsciously listening for the last two hours.</p> + +<p>'Here comes Dr. John at last,' observed Richard, in strange echo of her +thought. 'I expected he would have met us at the station, but I suppose +he was called away as usual.'</p> + +<p>Dr. Heriot gave no clue to his absence. He shook hands very quietly with +Mildred, and hoped that she was not tired, and then turned to Richard +for news of the invalid; and when that topic was exhausted, seemed +disposed to relapse into a brown study, from which Mildred curiously did +not care to wake him.</p> + +<p>She was quite content to see him sitting there in his old place, playing +absently with her paper-knife, and dropping a word here and there, but +oftener listening to the young men's conversation. Hugh was eagerly +discussing the Bloemfontein question. He and Richard had been warmly +debating the subject for the last hour. Richard was sympathetic, but he +had a notion his friend was throwing himself away.</p> + +<p>'We don't want to lose such men as you out of England, Marsden, that's +the fact. I have always looked upon you as just the sort of hard worker +for a parish at the East end of London. Look at our city Arabs; it +strikes me there is room for missionary work there—not but what South +Africa has a demand on us too.'</p> + +<p>'When a man feels he has a call, there is nothing more to be said,' +replied Hugh, striking himself energetically on his broad chest, and +speaking in his most powerful bass. 'One has something to give up, of +course; all colonial careers involve a degree of hardship and +self-sacrifice; not that I agree with your sister in thinking either the +one or the other point to the right decision. Because we may consider it +our duty to undertake a pilgrimage, it does not follow we need have +pebbles or peas in our shoes, or that the stoniest road is the most +direct.'</p> + +<p>'Of course not.'</p> + +<p>'We don't need these by-laws to guide us; there's plenty of hardship +everywhere, and I hope no amount would frighten me from any work I +undertake conscientiously. It may be pleasanter to remain in England. I +am rather of your opinion myself; but, all the same, when a man feels he +has a call——'</p> + +<p>'I should be the last to dissuade him from it; I only want you to look +at the case in all its bearing. I believe after all you are right, and +that I should do the same in your place.'</p> + +<p>'One ought never to decide too hastily for fear of regretting it +afterwards,' put in Dr. Heriot. Mildred gave him a half-veiled glance. +Why was he so quiet and abstracted, she wondered? Another time he would +have entered with animation into the subject, but now some grave thought +sealed his lips. Could it be that Polly's decision had had more effect +on him than he had chosen to avow—that he felt lonely and out of +spirits? She watched timidly for some opportunity of testing her fears; +she was almost sure that he was dull or troubled about something.</p> + +<p>'Some people are so afraid of deciding wrong that they seldom arrive at +any decision at all,' returned Hugh, with one of his great laughs.</p> + +<p>'All the same, over-haste brings early repentance,' returned Dr. Heriot, +a little bitterly, as he rose.</p> + +<p>'Are you going?' asked Mildred, feeling disappointed by the shortness of +his visit.</p> + +<p>'I am poor company to-night,' he returned, hastily. 'I am in no mood for +general talk. I daresay I shall see you some time to-morrow. By the bye, +how is it Polly has never answered my last letter?'</p> + +<p>'She has sent a hundred apologies. I assure you, she is thoroughly +ashamed of herself; but Roy is such a tyrant, the child has not an hour +to herself.'</p> + +<p>A smile broke over his face. 'I suppose not; it must be very amusing to +watch them. Roy runs a chance of being completely spoiled;' but this +Mildred would not allow.</p> + +<p>She went to bed feeling dissatisfied with herself for her +dissatisfaction. After all, what did she expect? He had behaved just as +any other man would have behaved in his position; he had been perfectly +kind and friendly, had questioned her about her health, and had spoken +of the length of her journey with a proper amount of sympathy. It must +have been some fancy of hers that he had evaded her eyes. After all, +what right had she to meddle with his moods, or to be uneasy because of +his uneasiness? Was not this the future she had planned? a fore-taste of +the long evenings, when the gray-haired friend should quietly sit beside +her, either speaking or silent, according to his will.</p> + +<p>Mildred scolded herself into quietness before she slept. After all, +there was comfort in the thought of seeing him the next day; but this +hope was doomed to be frustrated. Dr. Heriot did not make his +appearance; he sent an excuse by Richard, whom he carried off with him +to Nateby and Winton; an old college friend was coming to dine with him, +and Richard and Hugh Marsden were invited to meet him. Mildred found her +<i>tźte-ą-tźte</i> evening with Chriss somewhat harassing, and would have +gladly taken refuge in silence and a book; but Chriss had begged so hard +to read a portion of the translation of a Greek play on which she was +engaged that it was impossible to refuse, and a noisy hour of +declamation and uncertain utterance, owing to the illegibility of the +manuscript and the screeching remonstrances of Fritter-my-wig, whose +rightful rest was invaded, soon added the discomfort of a nervous +headache to Mildred's other pains and penalties; and when Chriss, +flushed and panting, had arrived at the last blotted page, she had +hardly fortitude enough to give the work all the praise it merited. The +quiet of her own room was blissful by comparison, though it brought with +it a fresh impulse of tormenting thoughts. Why was it that, with all her +strength of will, she had made so little progress; that the man was +still so dangerously dear to her; that even without a single hope to +feed her, he should still be the sum and substance of her thoughts; that +all else should seem as nothing in comparison with his happiness and +peace of mind?</p> + +<p>That he was far from peace she knew; her first look at him had assured +her of that. And the knowledge that it was so had wrought in her this +strange restlessness. Would he ever bring himself to speak to her of +this fresh blank in his existence? If it should be so, she would bid him +go away for a little time; in some way his life was too monotonous for +him; he must seek fresh interests for himself; the vicarage must no +longer inclose his only friends. He had often spoken to her of his love +for travel, and had more than once hinted at a desire to revisit the +Continent; why should she not persuade him that a holiday lay within the +margin of his duty; she would willingly endure his absence, if he would +only come back brighter and fresher for his work.</p> + +<p>Fate had, however, decreed that Mildred's patience should be sorely +tested, for though she looked eagerly for his coming all the next day, +the opportunity for which she longed did not arrive. Dr. Heriot still +held aloof, and the word in season could not be spoken. The following +day was Sunday, but even then things were hardly more satisfactory; a +brief hand-shake in the porch after evening service, and an inquiry +after Roy, was all that passed between them.</p> + +<p>'He is beyond any poor comfort that I can give him,' thought Mildred, +sorrowfully, as she groped her way through the dark churchyard paths. +'He looks worn and harassed, but he means to keep his trouble to +himself. I will try to put it all out of my head; it ought to be nothing +to me what he feels or suffers,' and she lay awake all night trying to +put this prudent resolve into execution.</p> + +<p>The next afternoon she walked over to Nateby to look up some of her old +Sunday scholars. It was a mild, wintry afternoon; a gray haziness +pervaded everything. As she passed the bridge she lingered for a moment +to look down below on the spot which was now so sacred to her; the sight +of the rocks and foaming water made her cover her face with a mute +thanksgiving. Imagination could not fail to reproduce the scene. Again +she felt herself crashing amongst the cruel stones, and saw the black, +sullen waters below her. 'Oh, why was I saved? to what end—to what +purpose?' she gasped, and then added penitently, 'Surely not to be +discontented, and indulge in impossible fancies, but to devote a rescued +life to the good of others.'</p> + +<p>Mildred was so occupied with these painful reflections that she did not +hear carriage-wheels passing in the road below the bridge, and was +unaware that Dr. Heriot had descended and thrown the reins to a passing +lad, and was now making his way towards her.</p> + +<p>His voice in her ear drove the blood to her heart with the sudden start +of surprise and pleasure.</p> + +<p>'We always seem fated to meet in this place,' he laughed, feigning not +to notice her embarrassment, but embarrassed himself by it. 'Coop Kernan +Hole must have a secret attraction for both of us. I find myself always +driving slowly over the bridge, as though I were following a friend's +possible funeral.'</p> + +<p>'As you might have done,' she returned, with a grateful glance that +completed her sentence.</p> + +<p>'Shall we go down and look at it more closely?' he asked, after a +moment's silence, during which he had revolved some thought in his mind. +'I have an odd notion that seeing it again may lay the ghost of an +uneasy dream that always haunts me. After a harder day's work than +usual, this scene is sure to recur to me at night; sometimes I have to +leave you there, you have floated so far out of my reach,' with a +meaning movement of his hand. Mildred shuddered.</p> + +<p>'Shall we come—that is—if you do not much dislike the idea,' and as +Mildred saw no reason for refusing, she overcame her feelings of +reluctance, and followed him through the little gate, and down the steep +steps beyond which lay the uneven masses of gray brockram. There he +waited for her with outstretched hand.</p> + +<p>'You need not think that I shall trust you to your own care again,' he +said, with rather a whimsical smile, but as he felt the trembling that +ran through hers, it vanished, and he became unusually grave. In another +moment he checked her abruptly, and almost peremptorily. 'We will not go +any farther; your hand is not steady enough, you are nervous.' Mildred +in vain assured him to the contrary; he insisted that she should sit +down for a few moments, and, in spite of her protestations, took off his +great-coat and spread it on the rock. 'I am warm, far too warm,' he +asserted, when he saw her looks of uneasiness. 'This spot is so +sheltered;' and he stood by her and lifted his hat, as though the cool +air refreshed him.</p> + +<p>'Do you remember our conversation on the other side of the bridge?' he +asked presently, turning to her. Mildred flushed with sudden pain—too +well she remembered it, and the long night of struggle and well-nigh +despair that had followed it.</p> + +<p>'I wonder what you thought of me; you were very quiet, very sweet-voiced +in your sympathy; but I fancied your eyes had a distrustful gleam in +them; they seemed to doubt the wisdom of my choice. Mildred,' with a +quick touch of passion in his voice such as she had never heard before, +'what a fool you must have thought me!'</p> + +<p>'Dr. Heriot, how can you say such things?' but her heart beat faster; he +had called her Mildred again.</p> + +<p>'Because I must and will say them. A man must call himself names when he +has made such a pitiful thing of life. Look at my marrying Margaret—a +mistake from beginning to end; and yet I must needs compass a second +piece of folly.'</p> + +<p>'There, I think you are too hard on yourself.'</p> + +<p>'What right had I at my age, or rather with my experience and knowledge +of myself, to think I could make a young girl happy, knowing, as I ought +to have known, that her endearing ways could not win her an entrance +into the deepest part of my nature—that would have been closed for +ever,' speaking in a suppressed voice.</p> + +<p>'It was a mistake for which no one could blame you—Polly least of all,' +she returned, eager to soothe this wounded susceptibility.</p> + +<p>'Dear Polly, it was her little fingers that set me free—that set both +of us free. Coop Kernan Hole would have taught me its lesson too late +but for her.'</p> + +<p>'What do you mean?' asked Mildred, startled, and trying to get a glimpse +of his face; but he had turned it from her; possibly the uncontrolled +muscles and the flash of the eye might have warned her without a word.</p> + +<p>'What has it taught you?' she repeated, feeling she must get to the +bottom of this mystery, whatever it might cost her.</p> + +<p>'That it was not Polly whom I loved,' he returned, in a suppressed +voice, 'but another whom I might have lost—whom Coop Kernan Hole might +have snatched from me. Did you know this, Mildred?'</p> + +<p>'No,' she faltered. 'I do not believe it now,' she might have added if +breath had not failed her. In her exceeding astonishment, to think such +words had blessed her ear, it was impossible—oh, it was impossible—she +must hear more.</p> + +<p>'I am doubly thankful to it,' he repeated, stooping over her as she sat, +that the fall might not drown his voice; 'its dark waters are henceforth +glorified to me. Never till that day did I know what you were to me; +what a blank my life would be to me without you. It has come to +this—that I cannot live without you, Mildred—that you are to me what +no other woman, not even Margaret, not even my poor wife, has been to +me.'</p> + +<p>She buried her face in her trembling hands. Not even to him could she +speak, until the pent-up feelings in her heart had resolved themselves +into an inward cry, 'My God, for this—for these words—I thank thee!'</p> + +<p>He watched her anxiously, as though in doubt of her emotion. Love was +making him timid. After all, could he have misunderstood her words? 'Do +not speak to me yet. I do not ask it; I do not expect it,' he said, +touching her hand to make her look at him. 'You shall give me your +answer when you like—to-morrow—a week hence—you shall have time to +think of it. By and by I must know what you have for me in return, and +whether my blindness and mistake have alienated you, but I will not ask +it now.' He moved from her a few steps, and came hurriedly back; but +Mildred, still pale from uncontrollable feeling, would not raise her +eyes. 'I may be wrong in thinking you cared for me a little. Do you +remember what you said? "John, save me!" Mildred, I do not deserve it; I +have brought it all on myself, and I will try and be patient; but when +you can come to me and say, "John, I love you; I will be your wife," you +will remove a mountain-load of doubt and uncertainty. Ah, Mildred, +Mildred, will you ever be able to say it?' His emotion, his sensitive +doubts, had overmastered him; he was as deadly pale as the woman he +wooed. Again he turned away, but this time she stopped him.</p> + +<p>'Why need you wait? you must know I——,' but here the soft voice +wavered and broke down; but he had heard enough.</p> + +<p>'What must I know?—that you love me?'</p> + +<p>'Yes,' was all her answer; but she raised her eyes and looked at him, +and he knew then that the great loneliness of his life was gone for +ever.</p> + +<p>And Mildred, what were her thoughts as she sat with her lover beside +her, looking down at the sunless pool before them? here, where she had +grappled with death, the crowning glory of her life was given to her, +the gray colourless hues had faded out of existence, the happiness for +which she had not dared to ask, which the humble creature had not +whispered even in her prayers, had come to her, steeping her soul with +wondrous content and gratitude.</p> + +<p>And out of her happiness came a great calm. For a little while neither +of them spoke much, but the full understanding of that sacred silence +lay like a pure veil between them. They were neither young, both had +known the mystery of suffering—the man held in his heart a dreary past, +and Mildred's early life had been passed in patient waiting; but what +exuberance of youthful joy could equal the quietude of their entire +satisfaction?</p> + +<p>'Mildred, it seems to me that I must have loved you unconsciously +through it all,' he said, presently, when their stillness had spent +itself; 'somehow you always rested me. It had grown a necessity with me +to come and tell you my troubles; the very sound of your voice soothed +me.'</p> + +<p>One of her beautiful smiles answered him. She knew he was right, and she +had been more to him than he had guessed. Had not this consciousness +added the bitterest ingredient to her misery, the knowledge that he was +deceiving himself, that no one could give him what was in her power to +give?</p> + +<p>'But I never thought it possible until lately that you could care enough +for me,' he continued; 'you seemed so calm, so beyond this sort of +earthly passion. Ah, Mildred,' half-gravely, half-caressingly, 'how +could you mislead me so? All my efforts to break down that quiet reserve +seemed in vain.'</p> + +<p>'I thought it right; how could I guess it would ever come to this?' she +answered, blushing. 'I can hardly believe it now'; but the answer to +this was so full and satisfactory that Mildred's last lingering doubt +was dispelled for ever.</p> + +<p>It was late in the afternoon when they parted at the vicarage gate; the +dark figure in the wintry porch escaped their observation in the +twilight, and so the last good-bye fell on Ethel Trelawny's astonished +ear.</p> + +<p>'It is not good-bye after all, Mildred; I shall see you again this +evening,' in Dr. Heriot's voice; 'take care of yourself, my dearest, +until then;' and the long hand-clasp that followed his words spoke +volumes.</p> + +<p>When Mildred entered the drawing-room she gave a little start at the +sight of Ethel. The girl held out her hand to her with a strange smile.</p> + +<p>'Mildred, I was there and heard it. What he called you, I mean. +Darling—darling, I am so glad,' breaking off with a half-sob and +suddenly closing her in her arms.</p> + +<p>For a moment Mildred seemed embarrassed.</p> + +<p>'Dear Ethel, what do you mean? what could you have heard?'</p> + +<p>'That he called you by your name. I heard his voice; it was quite +enough; it told me everything, and then I closed the door. Oh, Mildred! +to think he has come to an end of his blindness and that he loves you at +last.'</p> + +<p>'Yes; does it not seem wonderful?' returned Mildred, simply. Her fair +face was still a little flushed, her eyes were soft and radiant; in her +happiness she looked almost lovely. Ethel knelt down beside her in a +little effusion of girlish worship and sympathy.</p> + +<p>'Did he tell you how beautiful you are, Mildred? No, you shall let me +talk what nonsense I like to-night. I do not know when I have felt so +happy. Does Richard know?'</p> + +<p>'No one knows.'</p> + +<p>'Am I the first to wish you joy then, Mildred? I never was so glad about +anything before. I could sing aloud in my gladness all the way from here +to Kirkleatham.'</p> + +<p>'Dear Ethel, this is so like you.'</p> + +<p>'To think of the misery of mind you have both caused me, and now that it +has come all right at last. Is he very penitent, Mildred?'</p> + +<p>'He is very happy,' she replied, smiling over the girl's enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>'How sweetly calm you look. I should not feel so in your place. I should +be pining for my lost liberty, I verily believe. How long have you +understood each other? Ever since Roy and Polly have come to their +senses?'</p> + +<p>'No, indeed; only this afternoon.'</p> + +<p>'Only this afternoon?' incredulously.</p> + +<p>'Yes; but it seems ages ago already. Ethel, you must not mind if I +cannot talk much about this; it is all so new, you see.'</p> + +<p>'Ah, I understand.'</p> + +<p>'I knew how pleased you would be, you always appreciated him so; at one +time I could have sooner believed you the object of his choice; till you +assured me otherwise,' smoothing the wavy ripples of hair over Ethel's +white forehead.</p> + +<p>'Women do not often marry their heroes; Dr. Heriot was my hero,' laughed +the girl. 'I chose you for him the first day I saw you, when you came to +meet me, looking so graceful in your deep mourning; your face and mild +eyes haunted me, Mildred. I believe I fell in love with you then.'</p> + +<p>'Hush, here comes Richard,' interrupted Mildred softly, and Ethel +instantly became grave and rose to her feet.</p> + +<p>But for once he hardly seemed to see her.</p> + +<p>'Aunt Milly, my dear Aunt Milly,' he exclaimed, with unusual warmth, 'do +you know what a little bird has told me?' he whispered, stooping his +handsome head to kiss her.</p> + +<p>'Oh, Cardie! do you know already? Have you met him?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, and he will be here presently. Aunt Milly, I don't know what we +are to do without you, but all the same Dr. John shall have you. He is +the only man who is worthy of Aunt Milly.'</p> + +<p>'There, that will do, you have not spoken to Ethel yet.'</p> + +<p>Oh, how Mildred longed to be alone with her thoughts, and yet the sound +of her lover's praises were very sweet to her; he was Richard's hero as +well as Ethel's, she knew, but with Richard's entrance Ethel seemed to +think she must be going.</p> + +<p>'It is so late now, but I will come again to-morrow;' and then as +Mildred bade her good-night she said another word or two of her +exceeding gladness.</p> + +<p>She would fain have declined Richard's escort, but he offered her no +excuse. She found him waiting for her at the gate, and knew him too well +to hope for her own way in this. She could only be on her guard and +avoid any dangerous subject.</p> + +<p>'You will all miss her dreadfully,' she said, as they crossed the +market-place in full view of Dr. Heriot's house. 'I don't think any of +you can estimate the blank her absence will leave at the vicarage.'</p> + +<p>'I can for one,' he replied, gravely. 'Do you think I can easily forget +what she has done for us since our mother died? But we shall not lose +her—not entirely, I mean.'</p> + +<p>'No, indeed.'</p> + +<p>'Humanly speaking I think their chances of happiness are greater than +that of any one. I know that they are so admirably suited to each other. +Aunt Milly will give him just the rest he needs.'</p> + +<p>'I should not be surprised if he will forget all his bitter past then. +But, Richard, I want to speak to you; you have not seen my father +lately?'</p> + +<p>'Not for months,' he replied, startled at the change in her tone; all at +once it took a thin, harassed note.</p> + +<p>'He has decided to stand for the Kendal election, though more than one +of his best friends have prophesied a certain defeat. Richard, I cannot +help telling you that I dread the result.'</p> + +<p>'You must try not to be uneasy,' he returned, with that unconscious +softening in his voice that made it almost caressing. 'You must know by +this time how useless it is to try to shake his purpose.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, I know that,' she returned, dejectedly; 'but all the same I feel +as though he were contemplating suicide. He is throwing away time and +money on a mere chimera, for they say the Radical member will be +returned to a certainty. If he should be defeated'—pausing in some +emotion.</p> + +<p>'Oh, he must take his chance of that.'</p> + +<p>'You do not know; it will break him down entirely. He has set his heart +on this thing, and it will go badly with both of us if he be +disappointed. Last night it was dreadful to hear him talk. More than +once he said that failure would be social death to him. It breaks my +heart to see him looking so ill and yet refusing any sympathy that one +can offer him.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, I understand; if I could only help you,' he returned, in a +suppressed voice.</p> + +<p>'No one can do that—it has to be borne,' was the dreary answer; and +just then the lodge gates of Kirkleatham came in sight.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXXIV</h2> + +<h3>JOHN HERIOT'S WIFE</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">'Whose sweet voice<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should be the sweetest music to his ear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Awaking all the chords of harmony;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose eye should speak a language to his soul<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More eloquent than all that Greece or Rome<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could boast of in its best and happiest days;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose smile should be his rich reward for toil;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose pure transparent cheek pressed to his<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would calm the fever of his troubled thoughts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And woo his spirits to those fields Elysian,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Paradise which strong affection guards.'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Bethune.</span><br /></span> +</div></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>And so when her youth was passed Mildred Lambert found the great +happiness of her life, and prepared herself to be a noble helpmeet to +the man to whom unconsciously she had long given her heart.</p> + +<p>This time there were no grave looks, no dissentient voice questioning +the wisdom of Dr. Heriot's choice; a sense of fitness seemed to satisfy +the most fastidious taste; neither youth nor beauty were imperative in +such a case. Mildred's gentleness was the theme of every tongue. Her +tender, old-fashioned ways were discovered now to be wonderfully +attractive; a hundred instances of her goodness and unselfishness +reached her lover's ears.</p> + +<p>'Every one seems to have fallen in love with you, Mildred,' he said to +her one sweet spring evening when he had crossed the market-place for +his accustomed evening visit. Mildred was alone as usual; the voices of +the young people sounded from the terrace; Olive and Richard were +talking together; Polly was leaning against the wall reading a letter +from Roy; the evening sun streamed through the window on Mildred's soft +brown hair and gray silk, on the great bowls of golden primroses, on the +gay tints of the china; a little green world lay beyond the bay window, +undulating waves of grass, a clear sparkle of water, dim blue mists and +lines of shadowy hills.</p> + +<p>Mildred lifted her quiet eyes; their smiling depths seemed to hold a +question and reproof.</p> + +<p>'Every one thinks it their duty to praise you to me,' he continued, in +the same amused tone; 'they are determined to enlighten me about the +goodness of my future wife. They do not believe how well I know that +already,' with a strange glistening in his eyes.</p> + +<p>'Please do not talk so, John,' she whispered. 'I should not like you to +think too well of me, for fear I should, ever disappoint you.'</p> + +<p>'Do you believe that would be possible?' he asked, reproachfully.</p> + +<p>Then she gave him one of her lovely smiles.</p> + +<p>'No, I do not,' she returned, simply; 'because, though we love each +other, we do not believe each other perfect. You have often called me +self-willed, John, and I daresay you are right.'</p> + +<p>He laughed a little at that; her quaint gentleness had often amused him; +he knew he should always hear the truth from her. She would tell him of +her faults over and over again, and he would listen to them gravely and +pretend to believe them rather than wound her exquisite susceptibility; +but to himself he declared that she had no flaw—that she was the +dearest, the purest, a pearl among women. Mildred would have shrunk in +positive pain and humility if she had known the extravagant standard to +which he had raised her.</p> + +<p>Sometimes he would crave to know her opinion of him in return. Like many +men, he was morbidly sensitive on this point, and was inclined to take +blame to himself where he did not deserve it, and she would point out +his errors to him in the simplest way, and so that the most delicate +self-consciousness could not have been hurt.</p> + +<p>'What, all those faults, Mildred?' he would say, with a pretence at a +sigh. 'I thought love was blind.'</p> + +<p>'I could never be blind about anything that concerns you, John,' she +would return, in the sweetest voice possible; 'our faults will only bind +us all the closer to each other. Is not that what helpmeet means?' she +went on, a soft gravity stealing over her words,—'that I should try to +help you in everything, even against yourself? I always see faults +clearest in those I love best,' she finished, somewhat shyly.</p> + +<p>'The last is the saving clause,' he replied, with a look that made her +blush. 'In this case I shall have no objection to be told of my +wrong-doings every day of my life. What a blessing it is that you have +common sense enough for both. I am obliged to believe what you tell me +about yourself of course, and mean to act up to my part of our contract, +but at present I am unable to perceive the most distant glimmer of a +fault.'</p> + +<p>'John!'</p> + +<p>'Seriously and really, Mildred, I believe you to be as near perfection +as a living woman can be,' and when Dr. Heriot spoke in this tone +Mildred always gave up the argument with a sigh.</p> + +<p>But with all her self-accusations Mildred promised to be a most +submissive wife. Already she proved herself docile to her lover's +slightest wish. She did not even remonstrate when Dr. Heriot pleaded +with her brother and herself that an early day should be fixed for the +marriage; for herself she could have wished a longer delay, but he was +lonely and wanted her, and that was enough.</p> + +<p>Perhaps the decision was a little difficult when she thought of Olive, +but the time once fixed, there was no hesitation. She went about her +preparations with a quiet precision that made Dr. Heriot smile to +himself.</p> + +<p>'One would think you are planning for somebody else's wedding, not your +own,' he said once, when she came down to him with her face full of +gentle bustle; 'come and sit down a little; at least I have the right to +take care of you now, you precious woman.'</p> + +<p>'Yes; but, John, I am so busy; I have to think for them all, you know; +and Olive, poor girl, is so scared at the thought of her +responsibilities, and Richard is so occupied he cannot spare me time for +anything,' for Richard, now in deacon's orders, was working up the +parish under Hugh Marsden's supervision. Hugh had lost his mother, and +had finally yielded his great heart and strength to the South African +Mission.</p> + +<p>'But there is Polly?' observed Dr. Heriot.</p> + +<p>'Yes, there is Polly until Roy comes,' she returned, with a smile. 'She +is my right hand at present, until he monopolises her; but one has to +think for them all, and arrange things.'</p> + +<p>'You shall have no one but yourself to consider by and by,' was his +lover-like reply.</p> + +<p>'Oh, John, I shall only have time then to think of you!' was her quiet +answer.</p> + +<p>And so one sweet June morning, when the swathes and lines of new-mown +hay lay in the crofts round Kirkby Stephen, and while the little +rush-bearers were weaving their crowns for St. Peter's Day, and the +hedges were thick with the pink and pearly bloom of brier roses, Mildred +Heriot stood leaning on her husband's arm in St. Stephen's porch.</p> + +<p>Merrily the worn old bells were pealing out, the sunlight streamed +across the market-place, the churchyard paths, and the paved lanes, and +the windows of the houses abutting on the churchyard, were crowded with +sympathising faces.</p> + +<p>Not young nor beautiful, save to those who loved her; yet as she stood +there in her soft-eyed graciousness, many owned that they had never seen +a sweeter-faced bride.</p> + +<p>'My wife, is this an emblem of our future life?' whispered Dr. Heriot, +as he led her proudly down the path, almost hidden by the roses her +little scholars' hands had strewn; but Mildred's lip quivered, and the +pressure of her hand on his arm only answered him.</p> + +<p>'How had she deserved such happiness?' the humble soul was asking +herself even at this supreme moment. Under her feet lay the fast-fading +roses, but above and around spread the pure arc of central blue—the +everlasting arms of a Father's providence about her everywhere. Before +them was the gray old vicarage, now no longer her home, the soft violet +hills circling round it; above it a heavy snow-white cloud drooped +heavily, like a guardian angel in mid-air; roses, and sunlight, and +God's heavenly blue.</p> + +<p>'Oh, it is all so beautiful!—how is one to deserve such happiness?' she +thought; and then it came to her that this was a free gift, a loan, a +talent that the Father had given to be used for the Master's service, +and the slight trembling passed away, and the beautiful serene eyes +raised themselves to her husband's face with the meek trustfulness of +old.</p> + +<p>Mildred was not too much engrossed even in her happiness to notice that +Olive held somewhat aloof from her through the day. Now and then she +caught a glimpse of a weary, abstracted face. Just as she had finished +her preparations for departure, and the travelling carriage had driven +into the courtyard, she sent Ethel and Polly down on some pretext, and +went in search of her favourite.</p> + +<p>She found her in the lobby, sitting on the low window-seat, looking +absently at the scene below her. The courtyard of the vicarage looked +gay enough; the horses were champing their bits, and stamping on the +beck gravel; the narrow strip of daisy turf was crowded with moving +figures; Polly, in her pretty bridesmaid's dress, was talking to Roy; +Ethel stood near them, with Richard and Hugh Marsden; Dr. Heriot was in +the porch in earnest conversation with Mr. Lambert. Beyond lay the quiet +churchyard, shimmering in the sunlight; the white, crosses gleamed here +and there; the garlands of sweet-smelling flowers still strewed the +paths.</p> + +<p>'Dear Olive, are you waiting for me? I wanted just to say a last word or +two;' and Mildred sat down beside her in her rich dress, and took the +girl's listless hand in hers. 'Promise me, my child, that you will do +the best for yourself and them.'</p> + +<p>'It will be a poor best after you, Aunt Milly,' returned Olive, with a +grateful glance at the dear face that had been her comfort so long. It +touched her that even now she should be remembered; with an impulse that +was rare with her she put her arms round Mildred, and laid her face on +her shoulder. 'Aunt Milly, I never knew till to-day what you were to +me—to all of us.'</p> + +<p>'Am I not to be Aunt Milly always, then?' for there was something +ineffably sad in the girl's voice.</p> + +<p>'Yes, but we can no longer look to you for everything. We shall miss you +out of our daily life. I do not mean to be selfish, Aunt Milly. I love +to think of your happiness; but all the same I must feel as though +something has passed out of my life.'</p> + +<p>'I understand, dear. You know I never think you selfish, Olive. Now I +want you to do something for me—a promise you must make me on my +wedding-day.'</p> + +<p>A flickering smile crossed Olive's pale face. 'It must not be a hard +one, then.'</p> + +<p>'It is one you can easily keep,—promise me to try to bear your failures +hopefully. You will have many; perhaps daily ones. I am leaving you +heavy responsibilities, my poor child; but who knows? They may be +blessings in disguise.'</p> + +<p>An incredulous sigh answered her.</p> + +<p>'It will be your own fault if they do not prove so. When you fail, when +things go wrong, think of your promise to me, and be patient with +yourself. Say to yourself, "It is only one of Olive's mistakes, and she +will try to do better next time." Do you understand me, my dear?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, I will try, Aunt Milly.'</p> + +<p>'I am leaving you, my darling, with a confidence that nothing can shake. +I do not fear your goodness to others, only to this weary self,' with a +light caressing touch on the girl's bowed head and shoulders. 'Hitherto +you have leaned on me; I have been your crutch, Olive. Now you will rely +on yourself. You see I do not make myself miserable about leaving you. I +think even this is ordered for the best.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, I know. How dear of you to say all this! But I must not keep you. +Hark, they are calling you!'</p> + +<p>Mildred rose with a blush; she knew the light agile step on the stairs. +In another moment Dr. Heriot's dark face appeared.</p> + +<p>'They are waiting, Mildred; we have not a moment to lose. You must come, +my dear wife!'</p> + +<p>'One moment, John'; and as she folded the girl in a long embrace, she +whispered, 'God bless my Olive!' and then suffered him to lead her away.</p> + +<p>But when the last good-byes were said, and the carriage door was closed +by Richard, Mildred looked up and waved her hand towards the lobby +window. She could see the white dress and dusky halo of hair, the +drooping figure and tightly locked hands; but as the sound of the wheels +died away in the distance, Olive hid her face in her hands and prayed, +with a burst of tears, that the promise she had made might be faithfully +kept.</p> + +<p>An hour later, Richard found her still sitting there, looking spent and +weary, and took her out to walk with him.</p> + +<p>'The rest have all started for Podgill. We will follow them more +leisurely. The air will refresh us both, Olive;' stealing a glance at +the reddened eyelids, that told their own tale. Olive so seldom shed +tears, that the relief was almost a luxury to her. She felt less +oppressed now.</p> + +<p>'But Ethel—where is she, Cardie?' unwilling to let him sacrifice +himself for her pleasure. She little knew that Richard was carrying out +Mildred's last injunctions.</p> + +<p>'I leave Olive in your care; be good to her, Richard,' she had said as +he had closed the carriage door on her, and he had understood her and +given her an affirmative look.</p> + +<p>'Ethel has a headache, and has gone home,' he replied. 'She feels this +as much as any of us; she did not like breaking up the party, but I saw +how much she needed quiet, and persuaded her. She wants you to go up +there to-morrow and talk to her.'</p> + +<p>'But, Cardie,' stopping to look at him, 'I am sure you have a headache +too.'</p> + +<p>'So I have, and it is pretty bad, but I thought a walk would do us both +good, and we might as well be miserable together, to tell you the +truth,' with an attempt at a laugh. 'I can't stand the house without +Aunt Milly, and I thought you were feeling the same.'</p> + +<p>'Dear Cardie, how good of you to think of me at all,' returned Olive, +gratefully. Her brother's evident sympathy was already healing in its +effects. Just now she had felt so lonely, so forlorn, it made her better +to feel that he was missing Aunt Milly too.</p> + +<p>She looked up at him in her mild affectionate way as he walked beside +her. She thought, as she had often thought before, how well the +straitly-cut clerical garb became him—its severe simplicity suiting so +well the grave young face. How handsome, how noble he must look in +Ethel's eyes!</p> + +<p>'We are so used to have Aunt Milly thinking for us, that it will be hard +to think for ourselves,' she went on presently, when they were walking +down by the weir. 'You will have to put up with a great deal from me, +and to be very patient, though you are always that now, Cardie.'</p> + +<p>'Am I?' he returned, touched by her earnestness. Olive had always been +loyal to him, even when he had most neglected her; and he had neglected +her somewhat of late, he thought. 'I will tell you what we must do, +Livy; we must try to help each other, and to be more to each other than +we have been. You see Rex has Polly, but I have no one, not even Aunt +Milly now; at least we cannot claim her so much now.'</p> + +<p>'You have Ethel, Cardie.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, but not in the way I want,' he returned, the sensitive colour +flitting over his face. He could never hear or speak her name unmoved; +she was far more to him now than she had ever been, when he thought of +her less as the youthful goddess he had adored in his boyish days, than +as the woman he desired to have as his wife. He no longer cast a glamour +of his own devising over her image—faulty as well as lovable he knew +her to be; but all the same he craved her for his own.</p> + +<p>'Not one man in a hundred, not one in a thousand, would make her happy,' +he said more than once to himself; 'but it is because I believe myself +to be that man that I persevere. If I did not think this, I would take +her at her word and go on my way.'</p> + +<p>Now, as he answered Olive, a sadness crossed his face, and she saw it. +Might it not be that she could help him even here? He had talked about +his trouble to Aunt Milly, she knew. Could she not win him to some, +confidence in herself? Here was a beginning of the work Aunt Milly had +left her.</p> + +<p>'Dear Cardie, I should so like it if you would talk to me sometimes +about Ethel,' she said, hesitating, as though fearing how he would like +it. 'I know how often it makes you unhappy. I can always see just when +it is troubling you, but I never could speak of it before.'</p> + +<p>'Why not, Livy?' not abruptly, but questioning.</p> + +<p>'One is so afraid of saying the wrong things, and then you might not +have liked it,' stammering in her old way.</p> + +<p>'I must always like to talk of what is so dear to me,' he replied, +gravely. 'I could as soon blot out my own individuality, as blot out the +hope of seeing Ethel my future wife; and in that case, it were strange +indeed if I did not love to talk of her.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, and I have always felt as though it must come right in the end,' +interposed Olive, eagerly; 'her manner gives me that impression.'</p> + +<p>'What impression?' he asked, startled by her earnestness.</p> + +<p>'I can't help thinking she cares for you, though she does not know it; +at least she will not allow herself to know it. I have seen her draw +herself so proudly sometimes when you have left her. I am sure she is +hardening her heart against herself, Cardie.'</p> + +<p>A faint smile rose to his lips. 'Livy, who would have thought you could +have said such comforting things, just when I was losing heart too?'</p> + +<p>'You must never do that,' she returned, in an old-fashioned way that +amused him, and yet reminded him somehow of Mildred. 'Any one like you, +Cardie, ought never to lose courage.'</p> + +<p>'Courage, Cœur-de-Lion!' he returned, mimicking her tone more gaily +as his spirits insensibly rose under the sisterly flattery. 'God bless +her! she is worth waiting for; there is no other woman in the world to +me. Who would have thought we should have got on this subject to-day, of +all days in the year? but you have done me no end of good, Livy.'</p> + +<p>'Then I have done myself good,' she returned, simply; and indeed some +sweet hopeful influence seemed to have crept on her during the last +half-hour; she thought how Mildred's loving sympathy would have been +aroused if she could have told her how Richard and she had mutually +comforted themselves in their dulness. But something still stranger to +her experience happened that night before she slept.</p> + +<p>She was lying awake later than usual, pondering over the events of the +day, when a stifled sound, strongly resembling a sob promptly swallowed +by a simulated yawn, reached her ear.</p> + +<p>'Chrissy, dear, is there anything the matter?' she inquired, anxiously, +trying to grope her way to the huddled heap of bed-clothes.</p> + +<p>'No, thank you,' returned Chriss, with dignity; 'what should be the +matter? good-night. I believe I am getting sleepy,' with another +artfully-constructed yawn which did not in the least deceive Olive.</p> + +<p>Chrissy was crying, that was clear; and Olive's sympathy was wide-awake +as usual; but how was she with her clumsy, well-meaning efforts to +overcome the prickles?</p> + +<p>Chriss was well known to have a soul above sympathy, which she generally +resented as impertinent; nevertheless Olive's voice grew aggravatingly +soft.</p> + +<p>'I thought perhaps you might feel dull about Aunt Milly,' she began, +hesitating; 'we do—and so——'</p> + +<p>'I don't know, I am sure, whom you mean by your aggravating we's,' +snapped Chriss; 'but it is very hard a person can't have their feelings +without coming down on them like a policeman and taking them in charge.'</p> + +<p>'Well, then, I won't say another word, Chriss,' returned her sister, +good-humouredly.</p> + +<p>But this did not mollify Chriss.</p> + +<p>'Speaking won't hurt a person when they are sore all over,' she replied, +with her usual contradiction. 'I hate prying, of course, and it is a +pity one can't enjoy a comfortable little cry without being put through +one's catechism. But I do want Aunt Milly. There!' finished Chriss, with +another ominous shaking of the bed-clothes; 'and I want her more than +you do with all your mysterious we's.'</p> + +<p>'I meant Cardie,' replied Olive, mildly, too much used to Chriss's +oddities to be repulsed by them. 'You have no idea how much he misses +her and all her nice quiet ways.'</p> + +<p>Chriss stopped her ears decidedly.</p> + +<p>'I don't want to hear anything about Aunt Milly; you and Richard made +her a sort of golden image. It is very unkind of you, Olive, to speak +about her now, when you know how horrid and disagreeable and cross and +altogether abominable I have always been to her,' and here honest tears +choked Chriss's utterance.</p> + +<p>A warm thrill pervaded Olive's frame; here was another piece of work +left for her to do. She must gain influence over the cross-grained +warped little piece of human nature beside her; hitherto there had been +small sympathy between the sisters. Olive's dreamy susceptibilities and +Chriss's shrewdness had kept them apart. Chriss had always made it a +point of honour to contradict Olive in everything, and never until now +had she ever managed to insert the thinnest wedge between Chriss's +bristling self-esteem and general pugnacity.</p> + +<p>'Oh, Chriss,' she cried, almost tremblingly, in her eagerness to impart +some consolation, 'there is not one of us who cannot blame ourselves in +some way. I am sure I have not been as nice as I might have been to Aunt +Milly.'</p> + +<p>Chriss shook her shoulder pettishly.</p> + +<p>'Dear me, that is so like you, Olive; you are the most +funnily-constructed person I ever saw—all poetry and conscience. When +you are not dreaming with your eyes open you are always reading yourself +a homily.'</p> + +<p>'I wish I were nice for all your sakes,' replied Olive, meekly, not in +the least repudiating this personal attack.</p> + +<p>'Oh, as to that, you are nice enough,' retorted Chriss, briskly. 'You +won't come up to Aunt Milly, so it is no use trying, but all the same I +mean to stick to you. I don't intend you to be quite drowned dead in +your responsibilities. If you say a thing, however stupid it is, I shall +think it my duty to back you up, so I warn you to be careful.'</p> + +<p>'Dear Chriss, I am so much obliged to you,' replied Olive, with tears in +her eyes.</p> + +<p>She perfectly understood by this somewhat vague sentence that Chriss was +entering into a solemn league and covenant with her, an alliance +aggressive and defensive for all future occasions.</p> + +<p>'There is not another tolerably comfortable person in the house,' +grumbled Chriss; 'one might as well talk to a monk as to Richard; the +corners of his mouth are beginning to turn down already with +ultra-goodness, and now he has taken to the Noah's Ark style of dress +one has no comfort in contradicting him.'</p> + +<p>'Chrissy, how can you say such things? Cardie has never been so dear and +good in his life.'</p> + +<p>'And then there are Rex and Polly,' continued Chriss, ignoring this +interruption; 'the way they talk in corners and the foolish things they +say! I have made up my mind, Livy, never to be in love, not even if I +marry my professor. I will be kind to him and sew on his buttons once in +a way, and order him nice things for dinner; but if he sent me on +errands as Rex does Polly I would just march out of the room and never +see his face again. I am so glad that no one will think of marrying you, +Olive,' she finished, sleepily, disposing herself to rest; 'every family +ought to have an old maid, and a poetical one will be just the thing.'</p> + +<p>Olive smiled; she always took these sort of speeches as a matter of +course. It never entered her head that any other scheme of life were +possible with her. She was far too humble-minded and aware of her +shortcomings to imagine that she could find favour in any man's eyes. +She lay with a lightened heart long after Chriss had fallen into a sweet +sleep, thinking how she could do her best for the froward young creature +beside her.</p> + +<p>'I have begun work in earnest to-day,' she thought, 'first Cardie and +now Chriss. Oh, how hard I will try not to disappoint them!'</p> + +<p>Dr. Heriot had hoped to secure some five weeks of freedom from work, but +before the month had fully elapsed he had an urgent recall home. Richard +had telegraphed to him that they were all in great anxiety about Mr. +Trelawny. There had been a paralytic seizure, and his daughter was in +deep distress. They had sent for a physician from Kendal, but as the +case required watching, Dr. Heriot knew how urgently his presence would +be desired.</p> + +<p>He went in search of his wife immediately, and found her sitting in a +quiet nook in the Lowood Gardens overlooking Windermere.</p> + +<p>The book they had been reading together lay unheeded in her lap. +Mildred's eyes were fixed on the shining lake and the hills, with purple +shadows stealing over them. Her husband's step on the turf failed to +rouse her, so engrossing was her reverie, till his hand was laid on her +shoulder.</p> + +<p>'John, how you startled me!'</p> + +<p>'I have been looking for you everywhere, Milly, darling,' he returned, +sitting down beside her. 'I have been watching you for ever so long; I +wanted to know what other people thought of my wife, and so for once I +resolved to be a disinterested spectator.'</p> + +<p>'Hush, your wife does not like you to talk nonsense;' but all the same +Mildred blushed beautifully.</p> + +<p>'Unfortunately she has to endure it,' he replied, coolly. 'After all I +think people will be satisfied. You are a young-looking woman, Milly, +especially since you have left off wearing gray.'</p> + +<p>'As though I mind what people think,' she returned, smiling, well +pleased with his praise.</p> + +<p>Was it not sufficient for her that she was fair in his eyes? Dr. Heriot +had a fastidious taste with regard to ladies' dress. In common with many +men, he preferred rich dark materials with a certain depth and softness +of colouring, and already, with the nicest tact, she contrived to +satisfy him. Mildred was beginning to lose the old-fashioned staidness +and precision that had once marked her style; others besides her husband +thought the quiet, restful face had a certain beauty of its own.</p> + +<p>And he. There were some words written by the wise king of old which +often rose to his lips as he looked at her—'The heart of her husband +does safely trust in her; she will do him good and not evil all the days +of her life.' How had it ever come that he had won for himself this +blessing? There were times when he almost felt abashed before the purity +and goodness of this woman; the simplicity and truthfulness of her +words, the meekness with which she ever obeyed him. 'If I can only be +worthy of my Mildred's love, if I can be what she thinks me,' he often +said to himself. As he sat beside her now a feeling of regret crossed +him that this should be their last evening in this sweet place.</p> + +<p>'Shall you be very much disappointed, my wife' (his favourite name for +her), 'if we return home a few days earlier than we planned?'</p> + +<p>She looked up quickly.</p> + +<p>'Disappointed—to go home, and with you, John! But why? is there +anything the matter?'</p> + +<p>'Not at the vicarage, but Mr. Trelawny is very ill, and Richard has +telegraphed for me. What do you say, Mildred?'</p> + +<p>'That we must go at once. Poor Ethel. Of course she will want you, she +always had such faith in you. Dr. Strong is no favourite at +Kirkleatham.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, I think we ought to go,' he returned, slowly; 'you will be a +comfort to the poor girl, and of course I must be at my post. I am only +so sorry our pleasant trip must end.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, and it was doing you so much good,' she replied, looking fondly at +the dark face, now no longer thin and wan. 'I should have liked you to +have had another week's rest before you began work.'</p> + +<p>'Never mind,' he returned, cheerfully, 'we will not waste this lovely +evening with regrets. Where are your wraps, Mildred? I mean to fetch +them and row you on the lake; there will be a glorious moon this +evening.'</p> + +<p>The next night as Richard crossed the market-place on his way from +Kirkleatham he saw lights in the window of the low gray house beside the +Bank, and the next minute Dr. Heriot came out, swinging the gate behind +him. Richard sprang to meet him.</p> + +<p>'My telegram reached you then at Windermere? I am so thankful you have +come. Where is Aunt Milly?'</p> + +<p>'There,' motioning to the house; 'do you think I should leave my wife +behind me? Let me hear a little about things, Richard. Are you going my +way; to Kirkleatham, I mean?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, I will turn back with you. I have been up there most of the time. +He seems to like me, and no one else can lift him. It seemed hard +breaking into your holiday, Dr. Heriot, but what could I do? We are sure +he dislikes Dr. Strong, and then Ethel seemed so wretched.'</p> + +<p>'Poor girl; the sudden seizure must have terrified her.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, I must tell you about that; I promised her I would. You see he has +taken this affair of the election too much to heart; every one told him +he would fail, and he did not believe them. In his obstinacy he has +squandered large sums of money, and she believes this to be preying on +his mind.'</p> + +<p>'That and the disappointment.'</p> + +<p>'As to that his state was pitiable. He came back from Kendal looking as +ill as possible and full of bitterness against her. She has no want of +courage, but she owned she was almost terrified when she looked at him. +She does not say much, but one can tell what she has been through.'</p> + +<p>Dr. Heriot nodded. Too well he understood the state of the case. Mr. +Trelawny's paroxysms of temper had latterly become almost +uncontrollable.</p> + +<p>'He parted from her in anger, his last words being that she had ruined +her father, and then he went up to his dressing-room. Shortly after a +servant in an adjoining room heard a heavy fall, and alarmed the +household. They found him lying speechless and unable to move. Ethel +says when they had laid him on his bed and he had recovered +consciousness a little, his eyes followed her with a frightened, +questioning look that went to her heart, and which no soothing on her +part could remove. The whole of the right side is affected, and though +he has recovered speech, the articulation is very imperfect, impossible +to understand at present, which makes it very distressing.'</p> + +<p>'Poor Miss Trelawny, I fear she has sad work before her.'</p> + +<p>'She looks wretchedly ill over it; but what can one expect from such a +shock? She shows admirable self-command in the sickroom; she only breaks +down when she is away from him. I am so glad she will have Aunt Milly. +Now I must go back, as Marsden is away, and I have to copy some papers +for my father. I shall go back in a couple of hours to take the first +share of the night's nursing.'</p> + +<p>'You will find me there,' was Dr. Heriot's reply as they shook hands and +parted.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXV" id="CHAPTER_XXXV"></a>CHAPTER XXXV</h2> + +<h3>OLIVE'S DECISION</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Be good, sweet maid, and let who can be clever;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Do lovely things, not dream them, all day long;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so make Life, Death, and that vast For Ever,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">One grand sweet song.'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Charles Kingsley.</span><br /></span> +</div></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>Ethel Trelawny had long felt as though some crisis in her life were +impending.</p> + +<p>To her it seemed impossible that the unnatural state of things between +her father and herself could any longer continue; something must occur +to break the hideous monotony and constraint of those slowly revolving +weeks and months. Latterly there had come to her that strange listening +feeling to which some peculiar and sensitive temperaments are subject, +when in the silence they can distinctly hear the muffled footfall of +approaching sorrow.</p> + +<p>Yet what sorrow could be more terrible than this estrangement, this +death of a father's love, this chill cloud of distrust that had risen up +between them!</p> + +<p>And yet when the blow fell, filial instinct woke up in the girl's soul, +all the stronger for its repression. There were times during those first +forty-eight hours when she would gladly have laid down her own life if +she could have restored power to those fettered limbs, and peace to that +troubled brain.</p> + +<p>Oh, if she could only have blotted out those last cruel words—if they +would cease to ring in her ears!</p> + +<p>She had met him almost timidly, knowing how heavily the bitterness of +his failure would lie upon him.</p> + +<p>'Papa, I fear things have not gone well with you,' she had said, and +there had been a caressing, almost a pitying chord in her voice as she +spoke.</p> + +<p>'How should things go well with me when my own child opposes my +interest?' he had answered, gloomily. 'I have wasted time and substance, +I have fooled myself in the eyes of other men, and now I must hide my +head in this obscurity which has grown so hateful to me, and it is all +your fault, Ethel.'</p> + +<p>'Papa, listen to me,' she pleaded. 'Ambition is not everything; why have +you set your heart on this thing? It is embittering your life and mine. +Other men have been disappointed, and it has not gone so very hard with +them. Why will you not let yourself be comforted?'</p> + +<p>'There is no comfort for me,' he had replied, and his face had been very +old and haggard as he spoke. It were far better that she had not spoken; +her words, few and gentle as they were, only added to the fuel of his +discontent; he had meant to shut himself up in his sullenness, and make +no sign; but she had intercepted his retreat, and brought down the vials +on her devoted head.</p> + +<p>Could she ever forget the angry storm that followed? Surely he must have +been beside himself to have spoken such words! How was it that she had +been accused of jilting Mr. Cathcart, of refusing his renewed overtures, +merely from obstinacy, and the desire of opposition; that she should +hear herself branded as her father's worst enemy?</p> + +<p>'You and your pride have done for me!' he had said, lashing himself up +to fresh fury with the remembrance of past mortification. 'You have +taken from me all that would make life desirable. You have been a bad +daughter to me, Ethel. You have spoiled the work of a lifetime.'</p> + +<p>'Papa, papa, I have only acted rightly. How could I have done this evil +thing, even for your sake?' she had cried, but he had not listened to +her.</p> + +<p>'You have jilted the man you fancied out of pride, and now the mischief +will lie on your own head,' he had answered, angrily, and then he had +turned to leave the room.</p> + +<p>Half an hour afterwards the heavy thud of a fall had been heard, and the +man had come to her with a white face to summon her to her father's +bedside.</p> + +<p>She knew then what had come upon them. At the first sight of that +motionless figure, speechless, inert, struck down with unerring force, +in the very prime and strength of life, she knew how it would be with +them both.</p> + +<p>'Oh, my dear, my dear, forgive me,' she had cried, falling on her knees +beside the bed, and raining tears over the rigid hands; and yet what was +there to forgive? Was it not rather she who had been sinned against? +What words were those the paralysed tongue refused to speak? What was +the meaning of those awful questioning eyes that rested on her day and +night, when partial consciousness returned? Could it be that he would +have entreated her forgiveness?</p> + +<p>'Papa, papa, do not look so,' she would say in a voice that went to +Richard's heart. 'Don't you know me? I am Ethel, your own, only child. I +will love you and take care of you, papa. Do you hear me, dear? There is +nothing to forgive—nothing—nothing.'</p> + +<p>During the strain of those first terrible days Richard was everything to +her; without him she would literally have sunk under her misery.</p> + +<p>'Oh, Richard, have I killed my father? Am I his murderess?' she cried +once almost hysterically when they were left alone together. 'Oh, poor +papa—poor papa!'</p> + +<p>'Dear Ethel, you have done no wrong,' he replied, taking her unresisting +hand; 'it is no fault of yours, dearest; you have been the truest, the +most patient of daughters. He has brought it on himself.'</p> + +<p>'Ah, but it was through me that this happened,' she returned, shuddering +through every nerve. 'If I had married Mr. Cathcart, he would not have +lost his seat, and then he would not have fretted himself ill.'</p> + +<p>'Ought we to do evil that good may come, Ethel?' replied Richard, +gravely. 'Are children responsible for the wrongdoing of their parents? +If there be sin, it lies at your father's door, not yours; it is you to +forgive, not he.'</p> + +<p>'Richard, how can you be so hard?' she demanded, with a flash of her old +spirit through her sobs; but it died away miserably.</p> + +<p>'I am not hard to him—God forbid! Am I likely to be hard to your +father, Ethel, and now especially?' he said, somewhat reproachfully, but +speaking with the quiet decision that soothed her even then. 'I cannot +have you unfitting yourself for your duties by indulging these morbid +ideas; no one blames you—you have done right; another time you will be +ready to acknowledge it yourself; you have enough to suffer, without +adding to your burden. I entreat you to banish these fancies, once and +for ever. Ethel, promise me you will try to do so.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, yes, I know you are right,' she returned, weeping bitterly; 'only +it breaks my heart to see him like this.'</p> + +<p>'You are spent and weary,' he replied, gently; 'to-morrow you will look +at these things in a different light. It has been such an awful shock to +you, you see,' and then he brought her wine, and compelled her to drink +it, and with much persuasion induced her to seek an hour or two's repose +before returning to the sickroom.</p> + +<p>What would she have done without him, she thought, as she closed her +heavy eyes. Unconsciously they seemed to have resumed their old +relations towards each other; it was Richard and Ethel now. Richard's +caressing manner had returned; no brother could have watched over her +more devotedly, more reverently; and yet he had never loved her so well +as when, all her imperiousness gone, and with her brave spirit well-nigh +broken, she seemed all the more dependent on his sympathy and care.</p> + +<p>But the first smile that crossed her face was for Mildred, when Dr. +Heriot brought her up to Kirkleatham the first evening after their +arrival. Mildred almost cried over her when she took her in her arms; +the contrast to her own happiness was so great.</p> + +<p>'Oh, Ethel, Ethel,' was all she could say, 'my poor girl!'</p> + +<p>'Yes, I am that and much more,' she returned, yielding to her friend's +embrace; 'utterly poor and wretched. Has he—has Dr. Heriot told you all +he feared?'</p> + +<p>'That there can only be partial recovery? Yes, I know he fears that; but +then one cannot tell in these cases; you may have him still for years.'</p> + +<p>'Ah, but if he should have another stroke? I know what Dr. Heriot +thinks—it is a bad case; he has said so to Richard.'</p> + +<p>'Poor child! it is so hard not to be able to comfort you.'</p> + +<p>'No one can do that so long as I have him before my eyes in this state. +Mildred, you cannot conceive what a wreck he is; no power of speech, +only those inarticulate sounds.'</p> + +<p>'I am glad Cardie is able to be so much with you.'</p> + +<p>A sensitive colour overspread Ethel's worn face.</p> + +<p>'I do not know what I should have done without him,' she returned, in a +low voice. 'If he had been my own brother he could not have done more +for me; we fancy papa likes to have him, he is so strong and quiet, and +always sees what is the right thing to be done.'</p> + +<p>'I found out Cardie's value long ago; he was my right hand during +Olive's illness.'</p> + +<p>'He is every one's right hand, I think,' was the quiet answer. 'He was +the first to suggest telegraphing for Dr. Heriot. I could not bear +breaking in upon your holiday, but it could not be helped.'</p> + +<p>'Do you think we could have stayed away?'</p> + +<p>'All the same it is a sad welcome to your new home; but you are a +doctor's wife now. Mildred, if you knew what it was to me to see your +dear face near me again.'</p> + +<p>'I am so thankful John brought me.'</p> + +<p>'Ah, but he will take you away again. I can hear his step now.'</p> + +<p>'Poor girl! her work is cut out for her,' observed Dr. Heriot, +thoughtfully, as they walked homewards through the crofts. 'It will be a +sad, lingering case, and I fear that the brain is greatly affected from +what they tell me. He must have had a slight stroke many years ago.'</p> + +<p>'Poor, poor Ethel,' replied Mildred, sorrowfully. 'I must be with her as +much as possible; but Richard seems her greatest comfort.'</p> + +<p>'Perhaps good may come out of evil. You see, I can guess at your +thought, Milly darling,' and then their talk flowed into a less sad +channel.</p> + +<p>But not all Mildred's sympathy, or Richard's goodness, could avail to +make those long weeks and months of misery otherwise than dreary; and +nobly as Ethel Trelawny performed her duty, there were times when her +young heart sickened and grew heavy with pain in the oppressive +atmosphere of that weary sickroom.</p> + +<p>To her healthy vitality, the spectacle of her father's helplessness was +simply terrible; the inertness of the fettered limbs, the indistinct +utterance of the tied and faltering tongue, the confusion of the +benumbed brain, oppressed her like a nightmare. There were times when +her pity for him was so great, that she would have willingly laid down +all her chances of happiness in this life if she could have restored to +him the prospect of health.</p> + +<p>It was now that the real womanhood of Ethel Trelawny rose to the +surface. Richard's heart ached with its fulness of love when he saw her +day after day so meekly and patiently tending her afflicted father; the +worn, pale face and eyes heavy with trouble and want of sleep were far +more beautiful to him now; but he hid his feelings with his usual +self-control. She had learned to depend upon him and trust him, and this +state of things was too precious to be disturbed.</p> + +<p>Richard was his father's sole curate now. Towards the end of October, +Hugh Marsden had finished his preparations, and had bidden good-bye to +his friends at the vicarage.</p> + +<p>Mildred, who saw him last, was struck with the change in the young man's +manner; his cheerful serenity had vanished—he looked subdued, almost +agitated.</p> + +<p>She was sitting at work in the little glass room; a tame canary was +skimming among the flowers, Dr. Heriot's voice was heard cheerfully +whistling from an inner room, some late blooming roses lay beside +Mildred, her husband's morning gift, the book from which he had been +reading to her was still open on the table; the little domestic picture +smote the young man's heart with a dull pain.</p> + +<p>'I am come to say good-bye, Mrs. Heriot,' he said, in a sadder voice +than she had ever heard from him before; 'and it has come to this, that +I would sooner say any other word.'</p> + +<p>'We shall miss you dreadfully, Mr. Marsden,' replied Mildred, looking +regretfully up at the plain honest face. Hugh Marsden had always been a +favourite with her, and she was loath to say good-bye to him.</p> + +<p>'Others have been kind enough to tell me so,' he rejoined, twirling his +shabby felt hat between his fingers. 'Miss Olive, Miss Lambert I mean, +said so just now. Somehow, I had hoped—but no, she has decided +rightly.'</p> + +<p>Mildred looked up in surprise. Incoherence was new in Hugh Marsden; but +just now his clumsy eloquence seemed to have deserted him.</p> + +<p>'What has Olive decided?' she asked, with a sudden spasm of curiosity; +and then she added kindly, 'Sit down, Mr. Marsden, you do not seem quite +yourself; all this leave-taking has tired you.'</p> + +<p>But he shook his head.</p> + +<p>'I have no time: you must not tempt me, Mrs. Heriot; only you have +always been so good to me, that I wanted to ask you to say this for me.'</p> + +<p>'What am I to say?' asked Mildred, feeling a little bewildered.</p> + +<p>He was still standing before her, twirling his hat in his big hands, his +broad face flushed a little.</p> + +<p>'Tell Miss Olive that I know she has acted rightly; she always does, you +know. It would be something to have such a woman as that beside one, +strengthening one's hands; but of course it cannot be—she could not +deviate from her duty by a hair's-breadth.'</p> + +<p>'I do not know if I understand you,' began Mildred, slowly, and groping +her way to the truth.</p> + +<p>'I think you do. I think you have always understood me,' returned the +young man, more quickly. 'And you will tell her this from me. Of course +one must have regrets, but it cannot be helped; good-bye, Mrs. Heriot. A +thousand thanks for all you have done for me.' And before Mildred could +answer, he had wrung her hand, and was half-way through the hall.</p> + +<p>An hour later, Mildred stole softly down the vicarage lobby, and knocked +at the door of the room she had once occupied, and Olive's voice bade +her enter.</p> + +<p>'Aunt Milly, I never thought it was you,' she exclaimed, rising hastily +from the low chair by the window. 'Is Dr. Heriot with you?'</p> + +<p>'No; I left John at home. I told him that I wanted to have a little talk +with you, and like a model husband he asked no questions, and raised no +obstacles. All the same I expect he will follow me.'</p> + +<p>'You wanted to talk to me?' returned Olive, in a questioning tone, but +her sallow face flushed a little. 'How strange, when I was just wishing +for you too.'</p> + +<p>'There must be some electric sympathy between us,' replied her aunt, +smiling. 'Nothing could have induced me to sleep until I had seen you. +Mr. Marsden wished me to give you a message from him; he was a little +incoherent, but so far as I understand, he wished me to assure you that +he considers yours a right decision.'</p> + +<p>Olive's face brightened a little. Mildred had already detected unusual +sadness on it, but her calmness was baffling.</p> + +<p>'Did he tell you to say that? How kind of him!'</p> + +<p>'He did not stop to explain himself; he was in too great a hurry; but I +thought he seemed troubled. What was the decision, Olive? Has this +helped you to make it?' touching reverently the open page of a Bible +that lay beside her.</p> + +<p>The brown light in Olive's eyes grew steady and intense; she looked like +one who had found rest in a certainty.</p> + +<p>'I have just been preaching to myself from that text: "He that putteth +his hand to the plough and looketh backward," you know, Aunt Milly. +Well, that seems to point as truly to me as it does to Mr. Marsden.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, dearest,' replied Mildred, softly; 'and now what has he said to +you?'</p> + +<p>'I hardly know myself,' was the low-toned answer. 'I have been thinking +it all over, and I cannot now understand how it was; it seems so +wonderful that any one could care enough for me,' speaking to herself, +with a soft, bewildered smile.</p> + +<p>'Does Mr. Marsden care for you. I thought so from the first, Olive.'</p> + +<p>'I suppose he does, or else he would not have said what he did; it was +difficult to know his meaning at first, he was so embarrassed, and I was +so slow; but we understood each other at last.'</p> + +<p>'Tell me all he said, dear,' pleaded Mildred. Could it be her own love +story that Olive was treating so simply? There was a chord of sadness in +her voice, and a film gathered over the brightness of her eyes, but +there was no agitation in her manner; the deep of her soul might be +touched, but the surface was calm.</p> + +<p>'There is not much to tell, Aunt Milly, but of course you may know all. +We had said good-bye, and I had spoken a word or two about his work, and +how I thought it the most beautiful work that a man could do, and then +he asked me if I should ever be willing to share in it.'</p> + +<p>'Well?'</p> + +<p>'I did not understand him at first, as I told you, until he made his +meaning more plain, and then I saw how it was, that he hoped that one +day I might give myself heart and soul to the same work; that my talent, +beautiful, as he owned it to be, might not hinder me from such a +glorious reality—"the reality,"' and here for the first time she +faltered and grew crimson, '"of such work as must fall to a missionary's +wife."'</p> + +<p>'Olive, my dear child,' exclaimed Mildred, now really startled, 'did he +say as much as that?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, indeed, Aunt Milly; and he asked if I could care enough for him to +make such a sacrifice.'</p> + +<p>'My dear, how very sudden.'</p> + +<p>'It did not seem so. I cannot make out why I was not more surprised. It +came to me as though I had expected it all along. Of course I told him +that I liked him better than any one else I had seen, but that I never +thought that any one could care for me in that way; and then I told him +that while my father lived nothing would induce me to leave him.'</p> + +<p>'And what did he say to that?'</p> + +<p>'That he was afraid this would be my answer, but that he knew I was +deciding rightly, that he had never meant to say so much, only that the +last minute he could not help it; and then he begged that we might +remain friends, and asked me not to forget him and his work in my +prayers, and then he went away.'</p> + +<p>'And for once in your life you decided without Aunt Milly.'</p> + +<p>The girl looked up quickly. 'Was it wrong? You could not have counselled +me to give a different answer, and even if you had—' hesitating, 'Oh, I +could not have said otherwise; there was no conflicting duty there, Aunt +Milly.'</p> + +<p>'Dearest, from my heart I believe you are right. Your father could ill +spare you.'</p> + +<p>'I am thankful to hear you say so. Of course,' heaving a little sigh, +'it was very hard seeing him go away like that, but I never doubted +which was my duty for a moment. As long as papa and Cardie want me, +nothing could induce me to leave them.'</p> + +<p>'I suppose you will tell them this, Olive?'</p> + +<p>'No, oh no,' she replied, shrinking back, 'that would spoil all. It +would be to lose the fruit of the sacrifice; it might grieve them too. +No, no one must know this but you and I, Aunt Milly; it must be sacred +to us three. I told Mr. Marsden so.'</p> + +<p>'Perhaps you are right,' returned her aunt, thoughtfully. 'Richard +thinks so highly of him, he might give you no peace on the subject. When +we have once made up our minds to a certain course of action, arguments +are as wearying as they are fruitless, and overmuch pity is good for no +one. But, dear Olive, I cannot refrain from telling you how much I +honour you for this decision.'</p> + +<p>'Honour me, Aunt Milly!' and Olive's pale face flushed with strong +emotion.</p> + +<p>'How can I help it? There are so few who really act up to their +principles in this world, who when the moment for self-sacrifice comes +are able cheerfully to count the cost and renounce the desire of their +heart. Ah!' she continued, 'when I think of your yearning after a +missionary life, and that you are giving up a woman's brightest prospect +for the sake of an ailing parent, I feel that you have done a very noble +thing indeed.'</p> + +<p>'Hush, I do not deserve all this praise. I am only doing my duty.'</p> + +<p>'True; and after all we are only unprofitable servants. I wish I had +your humility, Olive. I feel as though I should be too happy sometimes +if it were not for the sorrows of others. They are shadows on the +sunshine. Ethel is always in my thoughts, and now you will be there +too.'</p> + +<p>'I do not think—I do not mean to be unhappy,' faltered Olive. '"God +loveth a cheerful giver," I must remember that, Aunt Milly. Perhaps,' +she continued, more humbly, 'I am not fit for the work. Perhaps he might +be disappointed in me, and I should only drag him down. Don't you +recollect what papa once said in one of his sermons about obstacles +standing like the angel with the drawn sword before Balaam, to turn us +from the way?'</p> + +<p>Mildred sighed. How often she had envied the childish faith which lay at +the bottom of Olive's character, though hidden by the troublesome +scrupulousness of a too sensitive conscience. Was the healthy growth she +had noticed latterly owing to Mr. Marsden's influence, or had she +really, by God's grace, trodden on the necks of her enemies?</p> + +<p>'You must not be sorry about all this,' continued the girl, earnestly, +noticing the sigh. 'You don't know how glad I am that Mr. Marsden cares +for me.'</p> + +<p>'I cannot help feeling that some day it will all come right,' returned +Mildred.</p> + +<p>'I must not think about that,' was the hurried answer. 'Aunt Milly, +please never to say or hint such a thing again. It would be wrong; it +would make me restless and dissatisfied. I shall always think of him as +a dear friend—but—but I mean to be Olive Lambert all my life.'</p> + +<p>Mildred smiled and kissed her, and then consented very reluctantly to +change the subject, but nevertheless she held to her opinion as firmly +as Olive to hers.</p> + +<p>Mildred might well say that the sorrows of others shadowed her +brightness. During the autumn and winter that followed her marriage her +affectionate heart was often oppressed by thoughts of that dreary +sickroom. Her husband had predicted from the first that only partial +recovery could be expected in Mr. Trelawny's case. A few months or years +of helplessness was all that remained to the once lithe and active frame +of the master of Kirkleatham.</p> + +<p>It was a pitiable wreck that met Richard's eyes one fine June evening in +the following year, when he went up to pay his almost daily visit. They +had wheeled the invalid on to the sunny terrace that he might enjoy the +beautiful view. Below them lay the old gray buildings and church of +Kirkby Stephen. The pigeons were sitting in rows on the tower, +preparatory to roosting in one of the unoccupied rooms; through the open +door one had glimpses of the dark-painted window, with its fern-bordered +ledge, and the gleaming javelins on the wall. A book lay on Ethel's lap, +but she had long since left off turning the pages. The tale, simple as +it was, was wearying to the invalid's oppressed brain. Her wan face +brightened at the young curate's approach.</p> + +<p>'How is he?' asked Richard in a low voice as he approached her, and +dropping his voice.</p> + +<p>Ethel shook her head. 'He is very weary and wandering to-night; worse +than usual, I fancy. Papa, Richard has come to see us; he is waiting to +shake hands with you.'</p> + +<p>'Richard—ay, a good lad—a good lad,' returned the sick man, +listlessly. His voice was still painfully thick and indistinct, and his +eyes had a dull look of vacancy. 'You must excuse my left hand, +Richard,' with an attempt at his old courtliness; 'the other is numb or +gone to sleep; it is of no use to me at all. Ah, I always told Lambert +he ought to be proud of his sons.'</p> + +<p>'His thoughts are running on the boys to-night,' observed Ethel, in a +low voice. 'He keeps asking after Rupert, and just now he fancied I was +my poor mother.'</p> + +<p>Richard gave her a grave pitying look, and turned to the invalid. 'I am +glad to see you out this lovely evening,' he said, trying gently to +rouse his attention, for the thin, dark face had a painful abstracted +look.</p> + +<p>'Ah, it is beautiful enough,' replied Mr. Trelawny, absently. 'I am +waiting for the boys; have you seen them, Richard? Agatha sent them down +to the river to bathe; she spoils them dreadfully. Rupert is a fine +swimmer; he does everything well; he is his mother's favourite.'</p> + +<p>'I think Ethel is looking pale, Mr. Trelawny. Aunt Milly has sent me to +fetch her for an hour, if you can spare her?'</p> + +<p>'I can always spare Ethel; she is not much use to me. Girls are +generally in the way; they are poor things compared with boys. Where is +the child, Agatha? Tell her to make haste; we must not keep Richard +waiting.'</p> + +<p>'Dear papa,' pleaded the girl, 'you are dreaming to-night. Your poor +Ethel is beside you.'</p> + +<p>'Ah, to be sure,' passing his hand wearily through his whitening hair. +'I get confused; you are so like your mother. Ask this gentleman to +wheel me in, Ethel; I am getting tired.'</p> + +<p>'Is he often like this?' asked Richard, when at last she was free to +join him in the porch. The curfew bell was ringing as they walked +through the dewy crofts among the tall, sleeping daisies; the cool +breeze fanned Ethel's hot temples.</p> + +<p>'Yes, very often,' she returned, in a dejected tone. 'It is this that +tries me so. If he would only talk to me a little as he used to do +before things went wrong; but he only seems to live in the past—his +wife and his boys—but it is chiefly Rupert now.'</p> + +<p>'And yet he seems restless without you.'</p> + +<p>'That is the strangest part; he seems to know me through it all. There +are times when he is a little clearer; when he seems to think there is +something between us; and then nothing satisfies him, unless I sit +beside him and hold his hand. It is so hard to hear him begging my +forgiveness over and over again for some imaginary wrong he fancies he +has done me.'</p> + +<p>'Poor Ethel! Yet he was never dearer to you than he is now?'</p> + +<p>'Never,' she returned, drying her eyes. 'Night and day he engrosses my +thoughts. I seem to have no room for anything else. Do you know, +Richard, I can understand now the passionate pity mothers feel for a +sick child, for whom they sacrifice rest and comfort. There is nothing I +would not do for papa.'</p> + +<p>'Aunt Milly says your devotion to him is beautiful.'</p> + +<p>Ethel's face grew paler. 'You must not tell me that, Richard; you do not +consider that I have to retrieve the coldness of a lifetime. After all, +poor papa is right. I have not been a good daughter to him; I have been +carping and disagreeable; I have presumed to sit in judgment on my own +father; I have separated myself and my pursuits from his, and alienation +was the result.'</p> + +<p>'For which you were not wholly to blame,' he replied, gently, unable to +hear those self-accusations unmoved. Why was she, the dearest and the +truest, to go heavily all her days for sins that were not her own?</p> + +<p>'No, you must not blame him,' she continued, beseechingly. 'Is he not +bearing his own punishment? am I not bearing mine? Oh, it is dreadful!' +her voice suddenly choked with strong emotion. 'Bodily sufferings I +could have witnessed with far less misery than I feel at the spectacle +of this helplessness and mental decay; to talk to dull ears, to arrest +wandering thoughts, to listen hour after hour to confused rambling, +Richard, this seems harder than anything.'</p> + +<p>'If He—the Master I mean—fell under His cross, do we wonder that we at +times sink under ours?' was the low, reverent answer. 'Ethel, I +sometimes think how wonderful it will be to turn the page of suffering +in another world, and, with eyes purified from earthly rheum, to spell +out all the sacred meaning of the long trial that we considered so +unbearable—nay, sometimes so unjust.'</p> + +<p>Ethel did not trust herself to speak, but a grateful glance answered +him. It was not the first time he had comforted her with words which had +sunk deep into a subdued and softened heart. She was learning her lesson +now, and the task was a hard one to poor passionate human flesh and +blood. If what Richard said was true, she would not have a pang too +many; the sorrowful moments would be numbered to her by the same Father, +without whom not even a sparrow could fall to the ground. Could she not +safely trust her father to Him?</p> + +<p>'Richard, I am always praying to come down from my cross,' she said at +last, looking up at the young clergyman with sweet humid eyes. 'And +after all He has fastened us there with His own hands. I suppose it is +faith and patience for which one should ask, and not only relief?'</p> + +<p>'He will give that too in His own good time,' returned Richard, +solemnly, and then, as was often the case, a short silence fell between +them.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXXVI</h2> + +<h3>BERENGARIA</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'I have led her home, my love, my only friend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is none like her, none.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And never yet so warmly ran my blood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sweetly, on and on<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Calming itself to the long-wished-for end,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Full to the banks, close on the promised good.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">None like her, none.'—<span class="smcap">Tennyson's</span> <i>Maud</i>.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>Two years had elapsed since Olive Lambert had made her noble decision, +and during that time triple events had happened. Mr. Trelawny's +suffering life was over, Rex had married his faithful Polly, and Dr. +Heriot and Mildred had rejoiced over their first-born son.</p> + +<p>Mr. Trelawny did not long survive the evening when Richard found him on +the sunny terrace; towards the end of the autumn there was a brief +rally, a strange flicker of restless life; his confused faculties seemed +striving to clear themselves; at times there was a strained dilated look +in the dark eyes that was almost pitiful; he seemed unwilling to have +Ethel out of his sight—even for a moment.</p> + +<p>One night he called her to him. She was standing at the window finishing +some embroidery by the fading light, but at the first sound of the weak, +querulous tones, she turned her cheerful face towards him, for however +weary she felt, there was always a smile for him.</p> + +<p>'What is it, dear father?' for in those sad last days the holy name of +father had come involuntarily to her lips. True, she had tasted little +of his fatherhood, but still he was hers—her father.</p> + +<p>'Put down that tiresome work and come to me,' he went on, fretfully; +'you are always at work—always—as though you had your bread to earn; +there is plenty to spare for you. Rupert will take care of you; you need +not fear, Ethel.'</p> + +<p>'No, dear, I am not afraid,' she returned coming to his side, and +parting his hair with her soft fingers.</p> + +<p>How often she had kissed those gray streaks, and the poor wrinkled +forehead. He was an old man now, bowed and decrepit, sitting there with +his lifeless arm folded to his side. But how she loved him—her poor, +stricken father!</p> + +<p>'No, you were always a good girl. Ethel, are the boys asleep?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, both of them, father,' leaning her cheek against his.</p> + +<p>'And your mother?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, dear.'</p> + +<p>'I had a fancy I should like to hear Rupert's voice again. You remember +his laugh, Ethel, so clear and ringing? Hal's was not like it; he was +quiet and tame compared to Rupert. Ethel,' wistfully, 'it is a long time +since I saw my boys.'</p> + +<p>'My poor dear, a long, long time!' and then she whispered, almost +involuntarily, '"I shall go to them, but they shall not return to me."'</p> + +<p>He caught the meaning partially.</p> + +<p>'Yes, we will go to them—you and I,' he returned, vacantly, patting her +cheek as she hung over him. 'Don't cry, Ethel, they are good boys, and +shall have their rights; but I have not forgotten you. You have been a +good daughter to me—better than I deserved. I shall tell your mother so +when——'</p> + +<p>But the sentence was never finished.</p> + +<p>He had seemed drowsy after that, and she rang for the servant to wheel +him into his own room. He was still heavy when she drew the curtains +round him and wished him good-night; he looked placid and beautiful, she +thought, as she leant over him for a last kiss; but he only smiled at +her, and pressed her hand feebly.</p> + +<p>That smile, how she treasured it! It was still on his lips when the +servant who slept in his room, surprised at his master's long rest, +undrew the curtains and found him lying as they left him last +night—dead!'</p> + +<p>'You have been a good daughter to me—better than I deserved. I shall +tell your mother so when——'</p> + +<p>'Oh, Ethel, he has told her now! be comforted, darling,' cried Mildred, +when Ethel had thrown herself dry-eyed on her friend's bosom. 'God do so +to me and mine, as you have dealt with him in his trouble.'</p> + +<p>But for a long time the afflicted girl refused to be comforted.</p> + +<p>Richard was smitten with dismay when he saw her for the first time after +her father's death. Her paleness, her assumed calmness, filled him with +foreboding trouble. Mildred had told him she had scarcely slept or eaten +since the shock of her bereavement had come upon her.</p> + +<p>She had come to him at once, and stood before him in her black dress; +the touch of her hand was so cold, that he had started at its +clamminess; the uncomplaining sadness of her aspect brought the mist to +his eyes.</p> + +<p>'Dear Ethel, it has been sudden—awfully sudden,' he said, at last, +almost fearing to graze the edge of that dreary pause.</p> + +<p>'Ah! that it has.'</p> + +<p>'That afternoon we had both been sitting with him. Do you remember he +had complained of weariness, and yet he would not suffer us to wheel him +in? Who would have thought his weariness would have been so soon at an +end!'</p> + +<p>She made no answer, only her bosom heaved a little. Yes, his weariness +was over, but hers had begun; her filial work was taken from her, and +her heart was sick with the sudden void in life. For months he had been +her first waking and her last sleeping thoughts; his helplessness had +brought out the latent devotion of her nature, and now she was alone!</p> + +<p>'Will you let me see him?' whispered Richard, not daring to break on +this sacred reserve of grief, and yet longing to speak some word of +comfort to her stricken heart; and she had turned noiselessly and led +him to the chamber of death.</p> + +<p>There her fortitude had given way a little, and Richard was relieved to +see her quiet tears coursing slowly down her cheeks, as they stood side +by side looking on the still face with its changeless smile.</p> + +<p>'Ethel, I am glad you have allowed me to see him,' he said, at last; 'he +looks so calm and peaceful, all marks of age and suffering gone. Who +could have the heart to break that rest?'</p> + +<p>Then the pent-up pain found utterance.</p> + +<p>'Oh, Richard, think, never to have bidden him good-bye!'</p> + +<p>'Did you wish him good-night, dear? I thought you told me you always +went to his bedside the last thing before you slept?'</p> + +<p>'Yes—but I did not know,' the tears flowing still more freely.</p> + +<p>'No—you only wished him good-night, and bade God bless him. Well, has +He not blessed him?'</p> + +<p>A sob was her only reply.</p> + +<p>'Has He not given him the "blessing of peace"? Is not His very seal of +peace there stamped on that quiet brow? Dear Ethel, those words, "He is +not, for God took him," always seem to me to apply so wonderfully to +sudden death. You know,' dropping his voice, and coming more closely, +'some men, good men, even, have such a horror of death.'</p> + +<p>'He had,' in a tone almost inaudible.</p> + +<p>'So I always understood. Think of the mercy shown to his weakness then, +literally falling asleep; no slow approach of the enemy he feared; no +deadly combat with the struggling flesh; only sleep, untroubled as a +child; a waking, not here, but in another world.'</p> + +<p>Ethel still wept, but she felt less oppressed; no one could comfort her +like Richard, not even Mildred.</p> + +<p>As the days went on, Richard felt almost embarrassed by the trust she +reposed in him. Ethel, who had always been singularly unconventional in +her ideas, and was still in worldly matters as simple as a child, could +see no reason why Richard should not manage things wholly for her. +Richard in his perplexity was obliged to appeal to Dr. Heriot.</p> + +<p>'She is ill, and shrinks from business; she wants me to see the lawyer. +Surely you can explain to her how impossible it is for me to interfere +with such matters? She treats the man who aspires to be her husband +exactly like her brother,' continued the young man, in a vexed, +shamefaced way.</p> + +<p>Dr. Heriot could hardly forbear a smile.</p> + +<p>The master of Kirkleatham had been lying in his grave for weeks, but his +faithful daughter still refused to be comforted. She moped piteously; +all business fretted her; a quiet talk with Mildred or Richard was all +of which her harassed nerves seemed capable.</p> + +<p>'What can you expect?' he said, at last; 'her long nursing has broken +her down. She has a fine constitution, but the wear and tear of these +months have been enough to wear out any woman. Leave her quiet for a +little while to cry her heart out for her father.'</p> + +<p>'In the meantime, Mr. Grantham is waiting to have those papers signed, +and to know if those leases are to be renewed,' returned Richard, +impatiently.</p> + +<p>With her his gentleness and sympathy had been unfailing, but it was not +to be denied that his present position fretted him. To be treated as a +brother, and to be no brother; to be the rejected suitor of an heiress, +and yet to be told he was her right hand! No wonder Richard's heart was +sore; he was even aggrieved with Dr. Heriot for not perceiving more +quickly the difficulties of his situation.</p> + +<p>'If my father were in better health, she would go to him; she has said +so more than once,' he went on, more quietly. 'It is easy to see that +she does not understand my hints; and under the present circumstances it +is impossible to speak more plainly. She wanted me to see Mr. Grantham, +and when I refused she looked almost hurt.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, I see, she must be roused to do things herself. Don't be vexed +about it, Richard, it will all come right, and you cannot expect her to +see things as we do. I will have a little talk with her myself; if it +comes to the worst I must constitute myself her man of business for the +present,' and Richard withdrew more satisfied.</p> + +<p>Things were at a low ebb just now with Richard. Ethel's heiress-ship lay +on him like a positive burden. The riches he despised rose up like a +golden wall between him and his love. Oh, that she had been some poor +orphaned girl, that in her loneliness he might have taken her to his +heart and his father's home! What did either he or she want with these +riches? He knew her well enough to be sure how she would dread the added +responsibility they would bring. How often she had said to him during +the last few weeks, 'Oh, Richard, it is too much! it oppresses me +terribly. What am I to do with it all, and with myself!' and he had not +answered her a word.</p> + +<p>Dr. Heriot found his task easier than he had expected. Ethel was unhappy +enough to be slightly unreasonable. She felt herself aggrieved with +Richard, and had misunderstood him.</p> + +<p>'I suppose he has sent you to tell me that I must rouse myself,' she +said, with languid displeasure, when he had unfolded his errand. 'He +need not have troubled either himself or you. I have seen Mr. Grantham; +he went away by the 2.50 train.'</p> + +<p>'I must say that I think you have done wisely,' returned Dr. Heriot, +much pleased. 'No one, not even Richard, has a right to interfere in +these matters. The will is left so that your trustees will expect you to +exert yourself. It seems a pity that you cannot refer to them!'</p> + +<p>'You know Mr. Molloy is dead.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, and Sir William still in Canada. Yet, with an honest, +straightforward man like Grantham, I think you might settle things +without reference to any one. Richard is only sorry his father is so +ailing.'</p> + +<p>'No, I could not trouble Mr. Lambert.'</p> + +<p>'Richard has been so much about the house during your father's illness, +that it seems natural to refer to him. Well, he has an older head than +many of us; but all the same you must understand his scruples.'</p> + +<p>'They have seemed to me far-fetched.'</p> + +<p>But, nevertheless, Ethel blushed a little as she spoke. A dim sense of +Dr. Heriot's meaning had been dawning on her slowly, but she was +unwilling to confess it. She changed the subject somewhat hastily, by +asking after Mildred and the baby, and loading Dr. Heriot with loving +messages. Nothing more was said about Richard until the close of the +visit, when Dr. Heriot somewhat incautiously mentioned him again; but, +as he told Mildred afterwards, he spoke advisedly.</p> + +<p>'You will not let Richard think he is misunderstood?' he said, as he +rose to take leave. 'You know he is the last one to spare himself +trouble, but he feels in your position that he must do nothing to +compromise you.'</p> + +<p>'He will not have the opportunity,' she returned, with brief +haughtiness, and turning suddenly very crimson; but as she met Dr. +Heriot's look of mild reproach, she melted.</p> + +<p>'No—he is right, you are all of you quite right. I must exert myself, +and try and care for the things that belonged to my darling father, only +I shall be so lonely—so very lonely,' and she covered her face with her +hands.</p> + +<p>Ethel met Richard with more than her usual kindness when she saw him +next; her sweet deprecating glance gave the young man a sorrowful pang.</p> + +<p>'You need not have sent him to see me, Richard,' she said, a little +sadly. 'I have been thoughtless, and hurt you. I—I will trouble no one +but myself now.'</p> + +<p>'It was not the trouble, Ethel; you must know that,' he returned, +eagerly. 'I wish I had the right to help you, but——'</p> + +<p>His voice broke, and he dropped her hands. Perhaps he felt the time had +not come to speak; perhaps an involuntary chill seized him as he thought +of the little he had to offer her. His manner was very grave, almost +reserved, during the rest of the visit; both of them were glad when a +chance caller enabled Richard, without awkwardness, to take his leave.</p> + +<p>After this, the young curate's visits grew rarer, and at last almost +entirely ceased, and they only met at intervals at the vicarage or the +Gray House, as Dr. Heriot's house was commonly called. Ethel made no +complaint when she found she had lost her friend, only Mildred noticed +that she grew paler, and drooped visibly.</p> + +<p>Mildred's tender heart bled for the lonely girl. Both she and her +husband pleaded urgently that Ethel should leave her solitary home, and +come to them for a little. But Ethel remained firm in her refusal.</p> + +<p>'Your life is so perfect—so beautiful, Mildred,' she said, once, when +the latter had pressed her almost with tears in her eyes, 'that I could +not break in upon it with my sad face and moping ways. I should be more +wretched than I am now.'</p> + +<p>'But at least you might have some lady with you; such perfect loneliness +is good for no one. I cannot bear to think of you living in a corner of +that great house all by yourself,' returned Mildred, almost vexed with +her obstinacy; and, indeed, the girl was very difficult to understand in +those days.</p> + +<p>'I have no friends but all of you dear people,' she answered, in the +saddest voice possible, 'and I will not trouble you. I could not +tolerate a stranger for a moment. Mildred, you must not be hurt with me; +you do not know. I must have my way in this.'</p> + +<p>And though Mildred shook her wise head, and Dr. Heriot entered more than +one laughing protest against such determined self-will, they were +obliged to yield.</p> + +<p>It was a strange life for so young a woman, and would have tried the +strongest nerves; but the only wisdom that Ethel Trelawny showed was in +not allowing herself an idle moment. The old dreaming habits were broken +for ever, the fastidious choice of duties altogether forgotten; her days +were chiefly devoted to her steward and tenants.</p> + +<p>Richard, returning from his parochial visits to some outlying village, +often met her, mounted on her beautiful brown mare, Zoź. Sometimes she +would stop and give him her slim hand, and let him pet the mare and talk +to her leaning on Zoź's glossy neck; but oftener a wave of the hand and +a passing smile were her only greeting. Richard would come in stern and +weary from these encounters, but he never spoke of them.</p> + +<p>It was in the following spring that Boy and Polly were married.</p> + +<p>Roy had been successful and had sold another picture, and as Mr. Lambert +was disposed to be liberal to his younger son, there was no fear of +opposition from Polly's guardian, even if he could have resisted the +pleadings of the young people.</p> + +<p>But, after all, there was no actual imprudence. If Roy failed to find a +continuous market for his pictures, there was still no risk of positive +starvation. Mr. Lambert had been quite willing to listen to Richard's +representations, and to settle a moderate sum on Roy; for the present, +at least, they would have enough and to spare, and the responsibility of +a young wife would add a spur to Roy's genius.</p> + +<p>Richard was not behind in his generosity. Already his frugality had +amassed a few hundreds, half of which he placed in Roy's hands. Roy +spent a whole day in Wardour Street after that. A wagon, laden with old +carved furniture and wonderful <i>bric-ą-brac</i>, drew up before The +Hollies. New crimson velvet curtains and a handsome carpet found their +way to the old studio. Polly hardly recognised it when she first set +foot in the gorgeous apartment, and heaved a private sigh over the dear +old shabby furniture. A little carved work-table and a davenport of +Indian wood stood in a corner appropriated to her use; a sleep-wooing +couch and a softly-cushioned easy-chair were beside them. Polly cried a +little with joy when the young husband pointed out the various +contrivances for her comfort. All the pretty dresses Dr. Heriot had +given her, and even Aunt Milly's thoughtful present of house-linen, +which now lay in the new press, with a sweet smell of lavender breathing +through every fold, were as nothing compared to Roy's gifts. After all, +it was an ideal wedding; there was youth, health, and good looks, with +plenty of honest love and good humour.</p> + +<p>'I have perfect faith in Polly's good sense,' Dr. Heriot had said to his +wife, when the young people bad driven away; 'she has just the qualities +Rex wants. I should not wonder if they turn out the happiest couple in +the world, with the exception of ourselves, Milly, darling.'</p> + +<p>The wedding had taken place in June, and the time had now come round for +the rush-bearing. The garden of Kirkleatham, the vicarage, and the Gray +House had been visited by the young band of depredators. Dr. Heriot's +glass-house had been rifled of its choicest blossoms; Mildred's bonnie +boy, still in his nurse's arms, crowed and clapped his hands at the +great white Annunciation lily that his mother had chosen for him to +carry.</p> + +<p>'You will not be late, John?' pleaded Mildred, as she followed him to +the door, according to her invariable custom, on the morning of St. +Peter's day; his wife's face was the last he saw when he quitted his +home for his long day's work. At the well-known click of the gate she +would lay down her work, at whatever hour it was, and come smiling to +meet him.</p> + +<p>'Where are you, Milly, darling?' were always his first words, if she +lingered a moment on her way.</p> + +<p>'You will not be later than you can help?' she continued, brushing off a +spot of dust on his sleeve. 'You must see Arnold carry his lily, and +Ethel will be there; and—and—' blushing and laughing, 'you know I +never can enjoy anything unless you are with me.'</p> + +<p>'Fie, Milly, darling, we ought to be more sensible after two years. We +are old married folks now, but if it were not for making my wife +vain,'—looking at the sweet, serene face so near his own,—'I might say +the same. There, I must not linger if I am under orders. Good-bye, my +two treasures,' placing the great blue-eyed fellow in Mildred's arms.</p> + +<p>When Mildred arrived at the park, under Richard's guardianship,—he had +undertaken to drive her and the child,—they found Ethel at the old +trysting-place amongst a host of other ladies, looking sad and weary.</p> + +<p>She moved towards them, tall and shadowy, in her black dress.</p> + +<p>'I am glad you are here,' said Richard, in a low voice. 'I thought the +Delawares would persuade you, and you will be quiet enough at the +vicarage.'</p> + +<p>'I thought I ought to do honour to my godson's first appearance in +public,' returned Ethel, stretching out her arms to the smiling boy.</p> + +<p>Mildred and Dr. Heriot had begged Olive to fill the position of sponsor +to the younger Arnold; but Olive had refused almost with tears.</p> + +<p>'I am not good enough. Do not ask me,' she had pleaded; and Mildred, +knowing the girl's sad humours, had transferred the request to Ethel; +her brother and Richard had stood with her.</p> + +<p>Richard had no time to say more, for already the band had struck up that +heralded the approach of the little rush-bearers, and he must take his +place at the head of the procession with the other clergy.</p> + +<p>She saw him again in church; he came down the chancel to receive the +children's gay crowns. Ethel saw a broken lily lying amongst them on the +altar afterwards. It struck her that his face looked somewhat sterner +and paler than usual.</p> + +<p>She was one of the invited guests at the vicarage; the Lamberts were +this year up at the Hall; but later on in the afternoon they met in the +Hall gardens: he came up at once and accosted her.</p> + +<p>'All this is jarring on you terribly,' he said, with his old +thoughtfulness, as he noticed her tired face.</p> + +<p>'I should be glad to go home certainly, but I do not like to appear rude +to the Delawares; the music is so noisy, and all those flitting dancers +between the trees confuse one's head.'</p> + +<p>'Suppose we walk a little way from them,' he returned, quietly. No one +but a keen observer could have read a determined purpose under that +quietness of his; Ethel's worn face, her changed manners, were driving +him desperate; the time had come that he would take his fate between his +hands, like a man; so he told himself, as they walked side by side.</p> + +<p>They had sauntered into the tree-bordered walk, leading to the old +summer-house in the meadows. As they reached it, Ethel turned to him +with a new sort of timidity in her face and voice.</p> + +<p>'I am not tired, Richard—not very tired, I mean. I would rather go back +to the others.'</p> + +<p>'We will go back presently. Ethel, I want to speak to you—I must speak +to you; this sort of thing cannot go on any longer.'</p> + +<p>'What do you mean?' she asked, turning very pale, but not looking at +him.</p> + +<p>'That we cannot go on any longer avoiding each other like this. You have +avoided me very often lately—have you not, Ethel?' speaking very +gently.</p> + +<p>'I do not know; you are so changed—you are not like yourself, Richard,' +she faltered.</p> + +<p>'How can I be like myself?' he answered, with a sudden passion in his +voice that made her tremble; 'how am I to forget that I am a poor +curate, and you your father's heiress; that I have fifties where you +have thousands? Oh, Ethel, if you were only poor,' his tone sinking into +pathos.</p> + +<p>'What have riches or poverty to do with it?' she asked, still averting +her face from him.</p> + +<p>'Do you not see? Can you not understand?' he returned, eagerly. 'If you +were poor, would it not make my wooing easier? I have loved you how +long, Ethel? Is it ten or eleven years? I was a boy of fourteen when I +loved you first, and I have never swerved from my allegiance.'</p> + +<p>'Never!' in a low voice.</p> + +<p>'Never! When you called me Cœur-de-Lion, I swore then, lad as I was, +that I would one day win my Berengaria. You have been the dearest thing +in life to me, ever since I first saw you; and now that I should lose my +courage over these pitiful riches! Oh, Ethel, it is hard—hard, just +when a little hope was dawning on me that one day you might be able to +return my affection. Was I wrong in that belief?' trying to obtain a +glimpse of the face now shielded by her hands.</p> + +<p>'Whatever I may feel, I know we are equals,' she returned evasively.</p> + +<p>'In one sense we are not,' he answered, sadly; 'a woman ought not to +come laden with riches to overwhelm her husband. I am a clergyman—a +gentleman, and therefore I fear to ask you to be my wife.'</p> + +<p>'Was Berengaria poor?' in a voice nearly inaudible; but he heard it, and +his handsome face flushed with sudden emotion.</p> + +<p>'Do you mean you are willing to be my Berengaria? Oh, Ethel, my own +love, this is too much. Can you really care for me enough?'</p> + +<p>'I have cared for you ever since you were so good to me in my trouble,' +she said, turning her glowing countenance, that he might read the truth +of her words; 'but you have made me very unhappy lately, Richard.'</p> + +<p>'What could I do?' he answered, almost incoherent with joy. 'I thought +you were treating me like a brother, and I feared to break in upon your +grief. Oh, if you knew what I have suffered.'</p> + +<p>'I understood, and that only made me love you all the more,' she +replied, softly. 'You have been winning my heart slowly ever since that +evening—you remember it?—in the kitchen garden.'</p> + +<p>'When you almost broke my heart, was I likely to forget it, do you +think?'</p> + +<p>'You startled me. I had only a little love, but it has been growing ever +since. Richard!' with her old archness, 'you will not refuse to see the +lawyers now?'</p> + +<p>He coloured slightly, and his bright look clouded; but this time Ethel +did not misunderstand him.</p> + +<p>'Dear Richard, you cannot hate the riches more than I do, but they must +never be mentioned again between us; they must be sacred to us as my +father's gift. I know you will help me to do what is right and good with +them,' she continued, in her winning way; 'they are talents we must use, +and not abuse.'</p> + +<p>'You have rebuked me, my dearest,' returned Richard, tenderly; 'it is I +who have been faithless and a coward. I will accept the charge you have +given me; and thank God at the same time for your noble heart.'</p> + +<p>So the long-desired gift had come into Richard Lambert's keeping, and +the woman he had loved from boyhood had consented to be his wife.</p> + +<p>The young master of Kirkleatham ruled well and wisely, and Ethel proved +a noble helpmeet. When some years later his father died, and he became +vicar of Kirkby Stephen, the parish had reason to bless the strong heart +and head, and the munificent hands that were never weary of giving. And +'our vicar' rivalled even the good doctor's popularity.</p> + +<p>And what of Olive and Hugh Marsden?</p> + +<p>Mildred's words had come true.</p> + +<p>There were long lonely years before Hugh Marsden—years of incessant +toil and Herculean labour, which should stoop his broad shoulders and +streak his dark hair with gray, when men should speak of the noble +missionary, Hugh Marsden, and of the incredible work carried forward by +him beyond the pale of civilisation.</p> + +<p>There was no limit to his endurance, no lack of cheerfulness in his +efforts, they said; no labour was too great, no scheme too +impracticable, no possibility too remote, for the energies of that +arduous soul.</p> + +<p>Hugh Marsden only smiled at their praise; he was free and unfettered; he +had no wife or child; danger would touch him alone. What should hinder +him from undertaking any enterprise in his Master's service? But +wherever he went in his lonely hours, or in his long sunshiny converse +with others, he ever remained faithful to his memory of Olive; she was +still to him the purest ideal of womanhood. At times her face, with its +cloudy dark hair and fathomless eyes, would haunt him with strange +persistence. Whole lines and passages of her poetry would return to his +memory, stirring him with subtle sweetness and vague longings for home.</p> + +<p>And Olive, how was it with her during those years of home duty, so +patiently, so unselfishly performed? While she achieved her modest fame, +and carried it so meekly, had she any remembrance of Hugh Marsden?</p> + +<p>'I remember all the more that I try to forget,' she said once when +Mildred had put this question to her. 'Now I shall try no more, for I +know I cannot forget him.' And again there had been that sadness in her +voice. But she never spoke of him voluntarily even to Mildred, but hid +in her quiet soul many a secret yearning. They were separated thousands +of miles, yet his honest face and voice were often present with her, and +never nearer than when she whispered prayers for the friend who had once +loved her.</p> + +<p>And neither of them knew that the years would bring them together again; +that one day, Hugh Marsden, broken in health, and craving for a sight of +his native land, should be sent home on an important mission, to find +Olive free and unfettered, and waiting for him in her brother's home.</p> + + +<h3>THE END</h3> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> H. M. B.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> H. M. B.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> Taken from fact.</p></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_NOVELS_OF_ROSA_NOUCHETTE_CAREY" id="THE_NOVELS_OF_ROSA_NOUCHETTE_CAREY"></a>THE NOVELS OF ROSA NOUCHETTE CAREY.</h2> + + +<h3>NELLIE'S MEMORIES.</h3> + +<p><i>STANDARD.</i>—"Miss Carey has the gift of writing naturally and simply, +her pathos is true and unforced, and her conversations are sprightly and +sharp."</p> + + +<h3>WEE WIFIE.</h3> + +<p><i>LADY.</i>—"Miss Carey's novels are always welcome; they are out of the +common run, immaculately pure, and very high in tone."</p> + + +<h3>BARBARA HEATHCOTE'S TRIAL.</h3> + +<p><i>DAILY TELEGRAPH.</i>—"A novel of a sort which it would be a real loss to +miss."</p> + + +<h3>ROBERT ORD'S ATONEMENT.</h3> + +<p><i>STANDARD.</i>—"Robert Ord's Atonement is a delightful book, very quiet as +to its story, but very strong in character, and instinctive with that +delicate pathos which is the salient point of all the writings of this +author."</p> + + +<h3>WOOED AND MARRIED.</h3> + +<p><i>STANDARD.</i>—"There is plenty of romance in the heroine's life. But it +would not be fair to tell our readers wherein that romance consists or +how it ends. Let them read the book for themselves. We will undertake to +promise that they will like it."</p> + + +<h3>HERIOT'S CHOICE.</h3> + +<p><i>MORNING POST.</i>—"Deserves to be extensively known and read.... Will +doubtless find as many admirers as readers."</p> + + +<h3>QUEENIE'S WHIM.</h3> + +<p><i>GUARDIAN.</i>—"A thoroughly good and wholesome story."</p> + + +<h3>NOT LIKE OTHER GIRLS.</h3> + +<p><i>PALL MALL GAZETTE.</i>—"Like all the other stories we have had from the +same gifted pen, this volume, Not Like Other Girls, takes a sane and +healthy view of life and its concerns.... It is an excellent story to +put in the hands of girls."</p> + +<p><i>NEW YORK HOME JOURNAL.</i>—"One of the sweetest, daintiest, and most +interesting of the season's publications."</p> + + +<h3>MARY ST. JOHN.</h3> + +<p><i>JOHN BULL.</i>—"The story is a simple one, but told with much grace and +unaffected pathos."</p> + + +<h3>FOR LILIAS.</h3> + +<p><i>VANITY FAIR.</i>—"A simple, earnest, and withal very interesting story; +well conceived, carefully worked out, and sympathetically told."</p> + + +<h3>UNCLE MAX.</h3> + +<p><i>LADY.</i>—"So intrinsically good that the world of novel-readers ought to +be genuinely grateful."</p> + + +<h3>ONLY THE GOVERNESS.</h3> + +<p><i>PALL MALL GAZETTE.</i>—"This novel is for those who like stories with +something of Jane Austen's power, but with more intensity of feeling +than Jane Austen displayed, who are not inclined to call pathos twaddle, +and who care to see life and human nature in their most beautiful form."</p> + + +<h3>LOVER OR FRIEND?</h3> + +<p><i>GUARDIAN.</i>—"The refinement of style and delicacy of thought will make +<i>Lover or Friend?</i> popular with all readers who are not too deeply +bitten with a desire for things improbable in their lighter literature."</p> + + +<h3>BASIL LYNDHURST.</h3> + +<p><i>PALL MALL GAZETTE.</i>—"We doubt whether anything has been written of +late years so fresh, so pretty, so thoroughly natural and bright. The +novel as a whole is charming."</p> + + +<h3>SIR GODFREY'S GRANDDAUGHTERS.</h3> + +<p><i>OBSERVER.</i>—"A capital story. The interest steadily grows, and by the +time one reaches the third volume the story has become enthralling."</p> + + +<h3>THE OLD, OLD STORY.</h3> + +<p><i>DAILY NEWS.</i>—"Miss Carey's fluent pen has not lost its power of +writing fresh and wholesome fiction."</p> + + +<h3>THE MISTRESS OF BRAE FARM.</h3> + +<p><i>PALL MALL GAZETTE.</i>—"Miss Carey's untiring pen loses none of its +power, and her latest work is as gracefully written, as full of quiet +home charm, as fresh and wholesome, so to speak, as its many +predecessors."</p> + + +<h3>MRS. ROMNEY and "BUT MEN MUST WORK."</h3> + +<p><i>PALL MALL GAZETTE.</i>—"By no means the least attractive of the works of +this charming writer."</p> + + +<h3>OTHER PEOPLE'S LIVES.</h3> + + +<h3>RUE WITH A DIFFERENCE.</h3> + +<p><i>BOOKMAN.</i>—"Fresh and charming.... A piece of distinctly good work."</p> + +<p><i>ATHENĘUM.</i>—"A pretty love story."</p> + + +<h3>HERB OF GRACE.</h3> + +<p><i>GLOBE.</i>—"Told in the writer's best and most popular manner."</p> + +<p><i>WORLD.</i>—"The story is well conceived and well sustained."</p> + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Heriot's Choice, by Rosa Nouchette Carey + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HERIOT'S CHOICE *** + +***** This file should be named 35901-h.htm or 35901-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/5/9/0/35901/ + +Produced by Chris Curnow, Lindy Walsh, Mary Meehan and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Heriot's Choice + A Tale + +Author: Rosa Nouchette Carey + +Release Date: April 18, 2011 [EBook #35901] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HERIOT'S CHOICE *** + + + + +Produced by Chris Curnow, Lindy Walsh, Mary Meehan and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + + HERIOT'S CHOICE + + A Tale + + BY ROSA NOUCHETTE CAREY + +AUTHOR OF 'NELLIE'S MEMORIES,' 'NOT LIKE OTHER GIRLS,' 'SIR GODFREY'S +GRANDDAUGHTERS,' ETC. + + + London + MACMILLAN AND CO., Limited + NEW YORK: THE MACMILLAN COMPANY + 1902 + + _All rights reserved_ + + _First Edition, 3 Vols. Crown 8vo, 31s. 6d., 1879_ + _Second Edition, 1 Vol. Crown 8vo, 6s., 1890_ + _Reprinted 1891, 1895,(3s. 6d.) 1898_ + _Transferred to Macmillan & Co., Ltd., August 1898, 1902_ + + TO + The Rev. Canon Simpson, LL.D. + THIS STORY + IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED BY + THE AUTHOR + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER I. 'SAY YES, MILLY' + +CHAPTER II. 'IF YOU PLEASE, MAY I BRING RAG AND TATTERS?' + +CHAPTER III. VIA TEBAY + +CHAPTER IV. MILDRED'S NEW HOME + +CHAPTER V. OLIVE + +CHAPTER VI. CAIN AND ABEL + +CHAPTER VII. A MOTHER IN ISRAEL + +CHAPTER VIII. 'ETHEL THE MAGNIFICENT' + +CHAPTER IX. KIRKLEATHAM + +CHAPTER X. THE RUSH-BEARING + +CHAPTER XI. AN AFTERNOON IN CASTLESTEADS + +CHAPTER XII. THE WELL-MEANING MISCHIEF-MAKER + +CHAPTER XIII. A YOUTHFUL DRACO AND SOLON + +CHAPTER XIV. RICHARD COEUR-DE-LION + +CHAPTER XV. THE GATE AJAR + +CHAPTER XVI. COMING BACK + +CHAPTER XVII. THREE YEARS AFTERWARDS--A RETROSPECT + +CHAPTER XVIII. OLIVE'S WORK + +CHAPTER XIX. THE HEART OF COEUR-DE-LION + +CHAPTER XX. WHARTON HALL FARM + +CHAPTER XXI. UNDER STENKRITH BRIDGE + +CHAPTER XXII. DR. HERIOT'S WARD + +CHAPTER XXIII. 'AND MAIDENS CALL IT LOVE-IN-IDLENESS' + +CHAPTER XXIV. THE DESERTED COTTON-MILL IN HILBECK GLEN + +CHAPTER XXV. ROYAL + +CHAPTER XXVI. 'IS THAT LETTER FOR ME, AUNT MILLY?' + +CHAPTER XXVII. COOP KERNAN HOLE + +CHAPTER XXVIII. DR. HERIOT'S MISTAKE + +CHAPTER XXIX. THE COTTAGE AT FROGNAL + +CHAPTER XXX. 'I CANNOT SING THE OLD SONGS' + +CHAPTER XXXI. 'WHICH SHALL IT BE?' + +CHAPTER XXXII. A TALK IN FAIRLIGHT GLEN + +CHAPTER XXXIII. 'YES' + +CHAPTER XXXIV. JOHN HERIOT'S WIFE + +CHAPTER XXXV. OLIVE'S DECISION + +CHAPTER XXXVI. BERENGARIA + + + + +HERIOT'S CHOICE + + + + +CHAPTER I + +'SAY YES, MILLY' + + 'Man's importunity is God's opportunity.' + + 'O fair, O fine, O lot to be desired! + Early and late my heart appeals to me, + And says, "O work, O will--Thou man, be fired, + To earn this lot--" she says--"I would not be + A worker for mine own bread, or one hired + For mine own profit. O, I would be free + To work for others; love so earned of them + Should be my wages and my diadem."'--Jean Ingelow. + + +'Say yes, Milly.' + +Three short words, and yet they went straight to Milly's heart. It was +only the postscript of a long, sorrowful letter--the finale brief but +eloquent--of a quiet, dispassionate appeal; but it sounded to Mildred +Lambert much as the Macedonian cry must have sounded of old: 'Come over +and help us.' + +Mildred's soft, womanly nature was capable of only one response to such +a demand. Assent was more than probable, and bordered on certainty, even +before the letter was laid aside, and while her cheek was yet paling at +the thought of new responsibilities and the vast unknown, wherein duty +must tread on the heel of inclination, and life must press out thought +and the worn-out furrows of intro- and retrospection. + +And so it was that the page of a negative existence was turned; and +Mildred agreed to become the inmate of her brother's home. + +'Aunt Milly!' How pleasant it would be to hear that again, and to be in +the centre of warm young life and breathless activity, after the torpor +of long waiting and watching, and the hush and the blank and the +drawn-out pain, intense yet scarcely felt, of the last seven years. + +To begin life in its fulness at eight-and-twenty; to taste of its real +sweets and bitters, after it had offered to her nothing but the pale +brackish flavour of regret for a passing youth and wasted powers, +responsive rather than suggestive (if there be such monstrous anomaly on +the whole face of God's creation), nothing being wasted, and all +pronounced good, that comes direct from the Divine Hand. To follow fresh +tracks when the record of the years had left nothing but the traces of +the chariot-wheels of daily monotonous duties that dragged heavily, when +summer and winter and seed-time and harvest found Mildred still through +those seven revolving courses of seasons within the walls of that quiet +sickroom. + +It is given to some women to look back on these long level blanks of +life; on mysteries of waiting, that intervene between youth and work, +when the world's noise comes dimly to them, like the tumult of city's +streets through closed shutters; when pain and hardship seem preferable +to their death-in-life, and they long to prove the armour that has grown +rusted with disuse. + +How many a volume could be written, and with profit, on the watchers as +well as the workers of life, on the bystanders as well as the sufferers. +'Patient hearts their pain to see.' Well has this thought been embodied +in the words of a nineteenth-century Christian poet; while to many a +pallid malcontent, wearied with inaction and panting for strife, might +the Divine words still be applied: 'Could ye not have watched with Me +one hour?' + +Mildred Lambert's life for eight-and-twenty years might be summed up in +a few sentences. A happy youth, scarcely clouded by the remembrance of a +dead father and the graves of the sisters that came between her infancy +and the maturer age of her only brother; and then the blurred brightness +when Arnold, who had married before he had taken orders, became the +hard-working vicar of a remote Westmorland parish--and he and his wife +and children passed out of Milly's daily life. + +Milly was barely nineteen when this happened; but even then her +mother--who had always been ailing--was threatened with a chronic +complaint involving no ordinary suffering; and now began the long seven +years' watching which faded Milly's youth and roses together. + +Milly had never known how galling had been the strain to the nerves--how +intense her own tenacity of will and purpose, till she had folded her +mother's pale hands together; and with a lassitude too great for tears, +felt as she crept away that her work was finished none too soon, and +that even her firm young strength was deserting her. + +Trouble had not come singly to Mildred. News of her sister-in-law's +unexpected death had reached her, just before her mother's last brief +attack, and her brother had been too much stunned by his own loss to +come to her in her loneliness. + +Not that Milly wondered at this. She loved Arnold dearly; but he was so +much older, and they had grown necessarily so apart. He and his wife had +been all in all to each other; and the family in the vicarage had seemed +so perfected and completed that the little petted Milly of old days +might well plead that she was all but forgotten. + +But Betha's death had altered this; and Arnold's letter, written as good +men will write when their heart is well-nigh broken, came to Mildred as +she sat alone in her black dress in her desolate home. + +New work--unknown work--and that when youth's elasticity seemed gone, +and spirits broken or at least dangerously quieted by the morbid +atmosphere of sickness and hypochondria. They say the prisoner of twenty +years will weep at leaving his cell. The tears that Mildred shed that +night were more for the mother she had lost and the old safe life of the +past, than pity for the widowed brother and motherless children. + +Do we ever outlive our selfishness? Do we ever cease to be fearful for +ourselves? + +And yet Mildred was weary of solitude. Arnold was her own, her only +brother; and Aunt Milly--well, perhaps it might be pleasant. + +'Say yes, Milly--for Betha's sake--for my darling's sake (she was so +fond of you), if not for mine. Think how her children miss her! Matters +are going wrong already. It is not their fault, poor things; but I am so +helpless to decide. I used to leave everything to her, and we are all so +utterly lost. + +'I could not have asked you if our mother had lingered; but your +faithful charge, my poor Milly, is over--your martyrdom, as Betha called +it. She was so bright, and loved to have things so bright round her, +that your imprisonment in the sickroom quite oppressed her. It was "poor +Milly," "our dear good Milly," to the last. I wish her girls were more +like her; but she only laughed at their odd ways, and told me I should +live to be proud of them. + +'Olive is as left-handed as ever, and Chrissy little better. Richard is +mannish, but impracticable, and a little difficult to understand. We +should none of us get on at all but for Roy: he has his mother's +heart-sunshine and loving smile; but even Roy has his failures. + +'We want a woman among us, Milly--a woman with head and hands, and a +tolerable stock of patience. Even Heriot is in difficulties, but that +will keep till you come--for you will come, will you not, my dear?' + +'Come! how could you doubt me, Arnold?' replied Mildred, as she laid +down the letter; but 'God help me and them' followed close on the sigh. + +'After all, it is a clear call to duty,' she soliloquised. 'It is not my +business to decide on my fitness or unfitness, or to measure myself to +my niche. We are not promised strength before the time, and no one can +tell before he tries whether he be likely to fail. Richard's +mannishness, and Olive's left-handed ways, and Chrissy's poorer +imitation, shall not daunt me. Arnold wants me. I shall be of use to +some one again, and I will go.' + +But Mildred, for all her bravery, grew a little pale over her brother's +second letter:--'You must come at once, and not wait to summer and +winter it, or, as some of our old women say, "to bide the bitterment +on't." Shall I send Richard to help you about your house business, and +to settle your goods and chattels? Let the old furniture go, Milly; it +has stood a fair amount of wear and tear, and you are young yet, my +dear. Shall I send Dick? He was his mother's right hand. The lad's +mannish for his nineteen years.' Mannish again! This Richard began to be +formidable. He was a bright well-looking lad of thirteen when Mildred +had seen him last. But she remembered his mother's fond descriptions of +Cardie's cleverness and goodness. One sentence had particularly struck +her at the time. Betha had been comparing her boys, and dwelling on +their good points with a mother's partiality. 'As to Roy, he needs no +praise of mine; he stands so well in every one's estimation--and in his +own, too--that a little fault-finding would do him good. Cardie is +different: his diffidence takes the form of pride; no one understands +him but I--not even his father. The one speaks out too much, and the +other too little; but one of these days he will find out his son's good +heart.' + +'I wonder if Arnold will recognise me,' thought Mildred, sorrowfully, +that night, as she sat by her window, looking out on her little strip of +garden, shimmering in the moonlight. 'I feel so old and changed, and +have grown into such quiet ways. Are there some women who are never +young, I wonder? Am I one of them? Is it not strange,' she continued, +musingly, 'that such beautiful lives as Betha's are struck so suddenly +out of the records of years, while I am left to take up the incompleted +work she discharged so lovingly? Dear Betha! what a noble heart it was! +Arnold reverenced as much as he loved her. How vain to think of +replacing, even in the faintest degree; one of the sweetest women this +earth ever saw: sweet, because her whole life was in exact harmony with +her surroundings.' And there rose before Mildred's eyes a faint image +that often haunted her--of a face with smiling eyes, and brown hair just +touched with gold--and the small firm hand that, laid on unruly lips, +could hush coming wrath, and smooth the angry knitting of baby brows. + +It was strange, she thought, that neither Olive nor Chrissy were like +their mother. Roy's fairness and steady blue eyes were her sole +relics--Roy, who was such a pretty little fellow when Mildred had seen +him last. + +Mildred tried to trace out a puzzled thought in her head before she +slept that night. A postscript in Arnold's letter, vaguely worded, but +most decidedly mysterious, gave rise to a host of conjectures. + +'I have just found out that Heriot's business must be settled long +before the end of next month--when you come to us. You know him by name +and repute, though not personally. I have given him your address. I +think it will be better for you both to talk the matter over, and to +give it your full consideration, before you start for the north. Make +any arrangements you like about the child. Heriot's a good fellow, and +deserves to be helped; he has been everything to us through our +trouble.' + +What could Arnold mean? Betha's chatty letters--thoroughly womanly in +their gossip--had often spoken of Arnold's friend, Dr. Heriot, and of +his kindness to their boys. She had described him as a man of great +talents, and an undoubted acquisition to their small society. 'Arnold +(who was her universal referee) wondered that a man like Dr. Heriot +should bury himself in a Westmorland valley. Some one had told them that +he had given up a large West End practice. There was some mystery about +him; his wife made him miserable. No one knew the rights or the wrongs +of it; but they would rather believe any thing than that he was to +blame.' + +And in another letter she wrote: 'A pleasant evening has just been sadly +interrupted. The Bishop was here and one or two others, Dr. Heriot among +them; but a telegram summoning him to his wife's deathbed had just +reached him. + +'Arnold, who stood by him, says he turned as pale as death as he read +it; but he only put it into his hand without a word, and left the room. +I could not help following him with a word of comfort, remembering how +good he was to us when we had nearly lost Chrissy last year; but he +looked at me so strangely that the words died on my lips. "When death +only relieves us of a burden, Mrs. Lambert, we touch on a sorrow too +great for any ordinary comfort. You are sorry for me, but pray for her." +And wringing my hand, he turned away. She must have been a bad wife to +him. He is a good man; I am sure of it.' + +How strange that Dr. Heriot should be coming to see her, and on private +business, too! It seemed so odd of Arnold to send him; and yet it was +pleasant to feel that she was to be consulted and her opinion respected. +'Mildred, who loves to help everybody, must find some way of helping +poor Heriot,' had been her brother's concluding words. + +Mildred Lambert's house was one of those modest suburban residences +lying far back on a broad sunny road bordering on Clapham Common; but on +a May afternoon even Laurel Cottage, unpretentious as it was, was not +devoid of attractions, with its trimly cut lawn and clump of +sweet-scented lilac and yellow drooping laburnum, stretching out long +fingers of gold in the sunshine. + +Mildred was sitting alone in her little drawing-room, ostensibly sorting +her papers, but in reality falling into an occasional reverie, lulled by +the sunshine and the silence, when a brisk footstep on the gravel +outside the window made her start. Visitors were rare in her secluded +life, and, with the exception of the doctor and the clergyman, and +perhaps a sympathising neighbour, few ever invaded the privacy of Laurel +Cottage; the light, well-assured footstep sounded strange in Mildred's +ears, and she listened with inward perturbation to Susan's brief +colloquy with the stranger. + +'Yes, her mistress was disengaged; would he send in his name and +business, or would he walk in?' And the door was flung open a little +testily by Susan, who objected to this innovation on their usual +afternoon quiet. + +'Forgive me, if I am intruding, Miss Lambert, but your brother told me I +might call.' + +'Dr. Heriot?' + +'Yes; he has kept his promise then, and has written to inform you of my +intended visit? We have heard so much of each other that I am sure we +ought to need no special introduction.' But though Dr. Heriot, as he +said this, held out his hand with a frank smile, a grave, penetrating +look accompanied his words; he was a man rarely at fault, but for the +moment he seemed a little perplexed. + +'Yes, I expected you; will you sit down?' replied Mildred, simply. She +was not a demonstrative woman, and of late had grown into quiet ways +with strangers. Dr. Heriot's tone had slightly discomposed her; +instinctively she felt that he failed to recognise in her some given +description, and that a brief embarrassment was the result. + +Mildred was right. Dr. Heriot was trying to puzzle out some connection +between the worn, soft-eyed woman before him, and the fresh girlish face +that had so often smiled down on him from the vicarage wall, with shy, +demure eyes, and the roses in her belt not brighter than the pure +colouring of her bloom. The laughing face had grown sad and +quiet--painfully so, Dr. Heriot thought--and faint lines round mouth and +brow bore witness to the strain of a wearing anxiety and habitual +repression of feeling; the skin of the forehead was too tightly +stretched, and the eyes shone too dimly for health; while the thin, +colourless cheek, seen in juxtaposition to the black dress, told their +own story of youthful vitality sacrificed to the inexorable demand of +hypochondria. + +But it was a refined, womanly face, and one that could not fail to +interest; a kind patient soul looked through the quiet eyes; youth and +its attractions had faded, but a noble unconsciousness had replaced it; +in talking to her you felt instinctively that the last person of whom +Mildred thought was herself. But if Dr. Heriot were disappointed in the +estimate he had formed of his friend's sister, Mildred on her side was +not the less surprised at his appearance. + +She had imagined him a man of imposing aspect--a man of height and +inches, with iron-gray hair. The real Dr. Heriot was dark and slight, +rather undersized than otherwise, with a dark moustache, and black, +closely-cropped hair, which made him look younger than he really was. It +was not a handsome face; at first sight there was something stern and +forbidding about it, but the lines round the mouth relaxed pleasantly +when he smiled, and the eyes had a clear, straightforward look; while +about the whole man there was a certain indefinable air of +good-breeding, as of one long accustomed to hold his own amongst men who +were socially his superiors. + +Mildred had taken her measurement of Dr. Heriot in her own quiet way +long before she had exhausted her feminine budget of conversation: the +fineness of the weather, the long dusty journey, his need of +refreshment, and inquiries after her brother's health and spirits. + +'He is not a man to be embarrassed, but his business baffles him,' she +thought to herself; 'he is ill at ease, and unhappy. I must try and meet +him half-way.' And accordingly Mildred began in her straightforward +manner. + +'It is a long way to come up on business, Dr. Heriot. Arnold told me you +had difficulties, though he did not explain their nature. Strange to +say, he spoke as though I could be of some assistance to you!' + +'I have no right to burden you,' he returned, somewhat incoherently; +'you look little fit now to cope with such responsibilities as must fall +to your share. Would not rest and change be beneficial before entering +on new work?' + +'I am not talking of myself,' returned Mildred, with a faint smile, +though her colour rose at the unmistakable tone of sympathy in Dr. +Heriot's voice. 'My time for rest will come presently. Is it true, Dr. +Heriot, that I can be of any service to you?' + +'You shall judge,' was the answer. 'I will meet your kindness with +perfect frankness. My business in London at the present moment concerns +a little girl--a distant relative of my poor wife's--who has lost her +only remaining parent. Her father and I were friends in our student +days; and in a weak moment I accepted a presumptive guardianship over +the child. I thought Philip Ellison was as likely as not to outlive me, +and as he had some money left him there seemed very little risk about +the whole business.' + +Mildred gave him a glance full of intelligence. It was clear to her now +wherein Dr. Heriot's difficulty lay. He was still too young a man to +have the sole guardianship of a motherless orphan. + +'Philip was but a few years older than myself, and, as he explained to +me, it was only a purely business arrangement, and that in case of his +death he wished to have a disinterested person to look after his +daughter's interest. Things were different with me then, and I had no +scruples in acceding to his wish. But Philip Ellison was a bad manager, +and on an evil day was persuaded to invest his money in some rotten +company--heaven knows what!--and as a natural consequence lost every +penny. Since then I have heard little about him. He was an artist, but +not a rising one; he travelled a great deal in France and Germany, and +now and then he would send over pictures to be sold, but I am afraid he +made out only a scanty subsistence for himself and his little daughter. +A month ago I received news of his death, and as she has not a near +relation living, except some cousins in Australia, I find I have the +sole charge of a girl of fourteen; and I think you will confess, Miss +Lambert, that the position has its difficulties. What in the +world'--here Dr. Heriot's face grew a little comical--'am I to do with a +raw school-girl of fourteen?' + +'What does Arnold suggest?' asked Mildred, quietly. In her own mind she +was perfectly aware what would be her brother's first generous thought. + +'It was my intention to put the child at some good English school, and +have her trained as a governess; but it is a dreary prospect for her, +poor little soul, and somehow I feel as though I ought to do better for +Philip Ellison's daughter. He was one of the proudest men that ever +lived, and was so wrapped up in his child.' + +'But my brother has negatived that, and proposed another plan,' +interrupted Mildred, softly. She knew her brother well. + +'He was generous enough to propose that she should go at once to the +vicarage until some better arrangement could be made. He assured me that +there was ample room for her, and that she could share Olive's and +Chrissy's lessons; but he begged me to refer it to you, as he felt he +had no right to make such an addition to the family circle without your +full consent.' + +'Arnold is very good, but he must have known that I could have no +objection to offer to any plan of which he approves. He is so +kind-hearted, that one could not bear to damp his enthusiasm.' + +'Yes, but think a moment before you decide,' returned Dr Heriot, +earnestly. 'It is quite true that I was bound to your brother and his +wife by no ordinary ties of friendship, and that they would have done +anything for me, but this ought not to be allowed to influence you. If I +accept Mr. Lambert's offer, at least for the present, I shall be adding +to your work, increasing your responsibilities. Olive and Chrissy will +tax your forbearance sufficiently without my bringing this poor little +waif of humanity upon your kindness; and you look so far from strong,' +he continued, with a quick change of tone. + +'I am quite ready for my work,' returned Mildred, firmly; 'looks do not +always speak the truth, Dr. Heriot. Please let me have the charge of +your little ward; she will not be a greater stranger to me than Olive +and Chrissy are. Why, Chrissy was only nine when I saw her last. Ah,' +continued Mildred, folding her hands, and speaking almost to herself, +'if you knew what it will be to me to see myself surrounded by young +faces, to be allowed to love them, and to try to win their love in +return--to feel I am doing real work in God's world, with a real trust +and talent given to me--ah! you must let me help you in this, Dr. +Heriot; you were so good to Betha, and it will make Arnold happy.' And +Mildred stretched out her hand to him with a new impulse, so unlike the +composed manner in which she had hitherto spoken, that Dr. Heriot, +surprised and touched, could find no response but 'God bless you for +this, Miss Lambert!' + +Mildred's gentle primness was thawing visibly under Dr. Heriot's +pleasant manners. By and by, as she presided at the sunny little +tea-table, and pressed welcome refreshment on her weary guest, she heard +more about this strange early friendship of his, and shared his surmises +as to the probable education and character of his ward. + +'She must be a regular Bohemian by this time,' he observed. 'From what I +can hear they were never long in one place. It must be a strange +training for a girl, living in artists' studios, and being the sole +companion of a silent, taciturn man such as Philip was.' + +'She will hardly have the characteristics of other girls,' observed +Mildred. + +'She cannot possibly be more out of the common than Olive. Olive has all +sorts of absurd notions in her head. It is odd Mrs. Lambert's training +should have failed so signally in her girls. I am afraid your +preciseness will be sometimes offended,' he continued, looking round the +room, which, with all its homeliness, had the little finishes that a +woman's hand always gives. 'Olive might have arranged those flowers, but +she would have forgotten to water them, or to exclude their presence +when dead.' + +'You are a nice observer,' returned Mildred, smiling. 'Do not make me +afraid of my duties beforehand, as though I do not exactly know how all +the rooms look! Betha's pretty drawing-room trampled by dirty boots, +Arnold's study a hopeless litter of books, not a corner of the +writing-table clear. Chrissy used them as bricks,' she continued, +laughing. 'Roy and she had a mighty Tower of Babel one day. You should +have seen Arnold's look when he found out that _The Seven Lamps of +Architecture_ laid the foundation; but Betha only laughed, and told him +it served him right.' + +'But she kept them in order, though. In her quiet way she was an +excellent disciplinarian. Well, Miss Lambert, I am trespassing overmuch +on your goodness. To-morrow I am to make my ward's acquaintance--one of +the clique has brought her over from Dieppe--and I am to receive her +from his hands. Would it be troubling you too much if I ask you to +accompany me?--the poor child will feel so forlorn with only men round +her.' + +'I will go with you and bring her home. No, please, do not thank me, Dr. +Heriot. If you knew how lonely I am here----' and for the first time +Mildred's eyes filled with tears. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +'IF YOU PLEASE, MAY I BRING RAG AND TATTERS?' + + 'O, my Father's hand, + Stroke heavily, heavily the poor hair down, + Draw, press the child's head closer to thy knee-- + I'm still too young, too young, to sit alone.'--Aurora Leigh. + + +So this was Polly. + +It was only a shabby studio, where poverty and art fought a hand-to-hand +struggle for the bare maintenance, but among the after scenes of her +busy life Mildred never forgot the place where she first saw Dr. +Heriot's ward; it lingered in her memory, a fair, haunting picture as of +something indescribably sweet and sad. + +Its few accessories were so suggestive of a truer taste made impossible +by paucity of success; an unfinished painting all dim grays and pallid, +watery blues; a Cain fleeing out of a blurred outline of clouds; +fragmentary snatches of colour warming up pitiless details; rickety +chairs and a broken-down table; a breadth of faded tapestry; a jar of +jonquils, the form pure Tuscan, the material rough earthenware, a +plaster Venus, mutilated but grand, shining out from the dull red +background of a torn curtain. A great unfurnished room, full of yellow +light and warm sunshine, and, standing motionless in a ladder of motes +and beams, with brown eyes drinking in the twinkling glory like a young +eagle, was a girl in a shabby black dress, with thin girlish arms +clasped across her breast. For a moment Dr. Heriot paused, and he and +Mildred exchanged glances; the young figure in its forlornness came to +them like a mournful revelation; the immobility was superb, the youthful +languor pitiful. As Dr. Heriot touched her, she turned on them eyes full +of some lost dream, and a large tear that had been gathering +unconsciously brimmed over and splashed down on his hand. + +'My child, have we startled you? Mr. Fabian told us to come up.' For a +moment she looked bewildered. Her thoughts had evidently travelled a +long way, but with consciousness came a look of relief and pleasure. + +'Oh, I knew you would come--papa told me so. Oh, why have you been so +long?--it is three months almost since papa died. Oh, poor papa! poor +papa!' and the flush of joy died out of her face as, clasping her small +nervous hands round Dr. Heriot's arm, she laid her face down on them and +burst into a passion of tears. + +'I sent for you directly I heard; they kept me in ignorance--have they +not told you so? Poor child, how unkind you must have thought me!' and a +grieved look came over Dr. Heriot's face as he gently stroked the +closely-cropped head, that felt like the dark, soft plumage of some +bird. + +'No, I never thought you that,' she sobbed. 'I was only so lonely and +tired of waiting; and then I got ill, and Mr. Fabian was good to me, and +so were the others. But papa had left me to you, and I wanted you to +fetch me. You have come to take me home, have you not?' + +She looked up in his face pleadingly as she said this; she spoke in a +voice sweet, but slightly foreign, but with a certain high-bred accent, +and there was something unique in her whole appearance that struck her +guardian with surprise. The figure was slight and undeveloped, with the +irregularity of fourteen; but the ordinary awkwardness of girlhood was +replaced by dignity, almost grace, of movement. She was +dark-complexioned, but her face was a perfect oval, and the slight down +on the upper lip gave a characteristic but not unpleasing expression to +the mouth, which was firm but flexible; the hair had evidently been cut +off in recent illness, for it was tucked smoothly behind the ears, and +was perfectly short behind, which would have given her a boyish look but +for the extreme delicacy of the whole contour. + +'You have come to take me home, have you not?' she repeated anxiously. + +'This lady has,' he replied, with a look at Mildred, who had stood +modestly in the background. 'I wish I had a home to offer you, my dear; +but my wife is dead, and----' + +'Then you will want me all the more,' she returned eagerly. 'Papa and I +have so often talked about you; he told me how good you were, and how +unhappy.' + +'Hush, Mary,' laying his hand lightly over her lips; but Mildred could +see his colour changed painfully. But she interrupted him a little +petulantly-- + +'Nobody calls me Mary, and it sounds so cold and strange.' + +'What then, my dear?' + +'Why, Polly, of course!' opening her brown eyes widely; 'I have always +been Polly--always.' + +'It shall be as you will, my child.' + +'How gently you speak! Are you ever irritable, like papa, I wonder?--he +used to be so ill and silent, and then, when we tried to rouse him, he +could not bear it. Who is this lady, and why do you say you have no home +for me?' + +'She means to be our good friend, Polly--there, will that do? But you +are such a dignified young lady, I should never have ventured to call +you that unasked.' + +'Why not?' she repeated, darting at him a clear, straightforward glance. +Evidently his reticence ruffled her; but Dr. Heriot skilfully evaded the +brief awkwardness. + +'This lady is Miss Lambert, and she is the sister of one of my best +friends; she is going to take charge of his girls and boys, who have +lost their mother, and she has kindly offered to take charge of you +too.' + +'She is very good,' returned Polly, coldly; 'very, very good, I mean,' +as though she had repented of a slight hauteur. 'But I have never had +anything to do with children. Papa and I were always alone, and I would +much rather live with you; you have no idea what a housekeeper I shall +make you. I can dress salad and cook _omelettes_, and Nanette taught me +how to make _potage_. I used to take a large basket myself to the market +when we lived at Dresden, when Nanette was so bad with rheumatism.' + +'What an astonishing Polly!' + +'Ah! you are laughing at me,' drawing herself up proudly, and turning +away so that he should not see the tears in her eyes. + +'My dear Polly, is that a "crime"?' + +'It is when people are in earnest I have said nothing that deserves +laughing at--have I, Miss Lambert?' with a sweet, candid glance that won +Mildred's heart. + +'No, indeed; I was wishing that my nieces were like you.' + +'I did not mean that--I was not asking for praise,' stammered Polly, +turning a vivid scarlet. 'I only wanted my guardian to know that I +should not be useless to him. I can do much more than that I can mend +and darn better than Annette, who was three years older. You are smiling +still.' + +'If I smile, it is only with pleasure to know my poor friend had such a +good daughter. Listen to me, Polly--how old are you?' + +'Fourteen last February.' + +'What a youthful Polly!--too young, I fear, to comprehend the position. +And then with such Bohemian surroundings--that half-crazed painter, +Fabian,' he muttered, 'and a purblind fiddler and his wife. My poor +child,' he continued, laying his hand on her head lightly, and speaking +as though moved in spite of himself, 'as long as you want a friend, you +will never find a truer one than John Heriot. I will be your guardian, +adopted father, what you will; but,' with a firmness of voice that +struck the girl in spite of herself, 'I cannot have you to live with me, +Polly.' + +'Why not?' she asked, pleadingly. + +'Because it would be placing us both in a false position; because I +could not incur such a responsibility; because no one is so fit to take +charge of a young girl as a good motherly woman, such as you will find, +in Miss Lambert.' And as the girl looked at him bewildered and +disappointed, he continued kindly, 'You must forget this pleasant dream, +Polly; perhaps some day, when your guardian is gray-haired, it may come +to pass; but I shall often think how good my adopted daughter meant to +be to me.' + +'Shall I never see you then?' asked Polly mournfully. + +If these were English ways, the girl thought, what a cold, heartless +place it must be! Had not Mr. Fabian promised to adopt her if the +English guardian should not be forthcoming? Even Herr Schreiber had +offered to keep her out of his poor salary, when her father's death had +left her dependent on the little community of struggling artists and +musicians. Polly was having her first lesson in the troublesome +_convenances_ of life, and to the affectionate, ardent girl it was +singularly unpalatable. + +'I am afraid you will see me every day,' replied her guardian, with much +gravity. 'I shall not be many yards off--just round the corner, and +across the market-place. No, no, Miss Polly; you will not get rid of me +so easily. I mean to direct your studies, haunt your play-time, and be +the cross old Mentor, as Olive calls me.' + +'Oh, I am so glad!' returned the girl earnestly, and with a sparkle of +pleasure in her eyes. 'I like you so much already that I could not bear +you to do wrong.' + +It was Heriot's turn to look puzzled. + +'Would it not be wrong,' she returned, answering the look, 'when papa +trusted me to you, and told me on his deathbed that you would be my +second father, if you were to send me right away from you, and take no +notice of me at all!' + +'I should hardly do that in any case,' returned her guardian, seriously. +'What a downright, unconventional little soul you are, Polly! You may +set your mind at rest; your father's trust shall be redeemed, his child +shall never be neglected by me. But come--you have not made Miss +Lambert's acquaintance. I hope you mean to tell her next you like her.' + +'She looks good, but sad--are you sad?' touching Mildred's sleeve +timidly. + +'A little. I have been in trouble, like you, and have lost my mother,' +replied Milly, simply; but she was not prepared for the suddenness with +which the girl threw her arms round her neck and kissed her. + +'I might have thought--your black dress and pale face,' she murmured +remorsefully. 'Every one is sad, every one is in trouble--myself, my +guardian, and you.' + +'But you are the youngest--it falls heaviest on you.' + +'What am I to call you? I don't like Miss Lambert, it sounds stiff,' +with a little shrug and movement of the hands, rather graceful than +otherwise. + +'I shall be Aunt Milly to the others, why not to you?' returned Mildred, +smiling. + +'Ah, that sounds nice. Papa had a sister, only she died; I used to call +her Aunt Amy. Aunt Milly! ah, I can say that easily; it makes me feel at +home, somehow. Am I to come home with you to-day, Aunt Milly?' + +'Yes, my dear.' Milly absolutely blushed with pleasure at hearing +herself so addressed. 'I am not going to my new home for three weeks, +but I shall be glad of your company, if you will come and help me.' + +'Poor Mr. Fabian will be sorry, but he is expecting to lose me. There is +one thing more I must ask, Aunt Milly.' + +'A dozen if you will, dear.' + +'Oh, but this is a great thing. Oh, please, dear Aunt Milly, may I bring +Rag and Tatters?' And as Mildred looked too astonished for reply, she +continued, hurriedly: 'Tatters never left papa for an instant, he was +licking his hand when he died; and Rag is such a dear old thing. I could +not be happy anywhere without my pets.' And without waiting for an +answer she left the room; and the next instant the light, springy tread +was heard in company with a joyous scuffling and barking; then a large +shaggy terrier burst into the room, and Polly followed with a great +tortoise-shell cat in her arms. + +'Isn't Rag handsome, except for this?' touching the animal where a scrap +of fur had been rudely mauled off, and presented a bald appearance; 'he +has lost the sight of one eye too. Veteran Rag, we used to call him. He +is so fond of me, and follows me like a dog; he used to go out with me +in Dresden, only the dogs hunted him.' + +'You may bring your pets, Polly,' was Mildred's indulgent answer; 'I +think I can answer for my brother's goodwill.' + +Dr. Heriot shook his head at her laughingly. + +'I am afraid you are no rigid disciplinarian, Miss Lambert; but it is +"Love me, love my dog" with Polly, I expect. Now, my child, you must get +ready for the flitting, while I go in search of Mr. Fabian. From the +cloud of tobacco-smoke that met us on entering, I fancy he is on the +next story.' + +'He is with the Rogers, I expect. His model disappointed him, and he is +not working to-day. If you will wait a moment, I will fetch him.' + +'What an original character!' observed Dr. Heriot as the door closed. + +'A loveable one,' was Mildred's rejoinder. She was interested and roused +by the new phase of life presented to her to-day. She looked on amused, +yet touched, when Polly returned, leading by the hand her +pseudo-guardian--a tall old man, with fiery eyes and scanty gray hair +falling down his neck, in a patched dressing-gown that had once been a +gorgeous Turkey-red. It was the first time that the simple woman had +gazed on genius down-at-heel, and faring on the dry crust of unrequited +self-respect. + +'There is my Cain, sir; a new conception--unfinished, if you will--but +you may trace the idea I am feebly striving to carry out. Sometimes I +fancy it will be my last bit of work. Look at that dimly-traced figure +beside the murderer--that is his good angel, who is to accompany the +branded one in his life-long exile. I always believed in Cain's +repentance--see the remorse in his eyes. I caught that expression on a +Spanish sailor's face when he had stabbed his mate in a drunken brawl. I +saw my Cain then.' + +Needy genius could be garrulous, as Mildred found. The old man warmed at +Polly's open-eyed admiration and Mildred's softly-uttered praise; +appreciation was to him what meat and drink would be to more material +natures. He looked almost majestic as he stood before them, in his +ragged dressing-gown, descanting on the merits of his Tobit, that had +sold for an old song. 'A Neapolitan fisher-boy had sat for my angel; +every one paints angels with yellow hair and womanish faces, but I am +not one of those that must follow the beaten track--I formed my angel on +the loftiest ideal of Italian beauty, and got sneered at for my pains. +One ought to coin a new proverb nowadays, Dr. Heriot--Originality moves +contempt. People said the subject was not a taking one; Tobit was too +much like an old clothes man, or a veritable descendant of Moses and +Sons. There was no end to the quips and jeers; even our set had a notion +it would not do, and I sold it to a dealer at a sum that would hardly +cover a month's rent,' finished the old man, with a mixture of pathos +and dignity. + +'After all, public taste is a sort of lottery,' observed Dr. Heriot; +'true genius is not always requited in this world, if it offends the +tender prejudices of preconceived ideas.' + +'The worship of the golden image fills up too large a space in the +market-place,' replied Mr. Fabian, solemnly, 'while the blare of +instruments covers the fetish-adoration of its votaries. The world is an +eating and drinking and money-getting world, and art, cramped and +stifled, goes to the wall.' + +'Nay, nay; I have not so bad an opinion of my generation as all that,' +interposed Dr. Heriot, smiling. 'I have great faith in the underlying +goodness of mankind. One has to break through a very stiff outer-crust, +I grant you; but there are soft places to be found in most natures.' +And, as the other shook his head--'Want of success has made you a little +down-hearted on the subject of our human charities, Mr. Fabian; but +there is plenty of reverence and art-worship in the world still. I +predict a turn of the wheel in your case yet. Cain may still glower down +on us from the walls of the Royal Academy.' + +'I hope so, before the hand has lost its cunning. But I am too +egotistical. And so you are going to take Polly from me--from Dad +Fabian, ay?'--looking at the young girl fondly. + +'Indeed, Mr. Fabian, I must thank you for your goodness to my ward. Poor +child! she would have fared badly without it. Polly, you must ask Miss +Lambert to bring you to see this kind friend again.' + +'Nay, nay; this is a poor place for ladies to visit,' replied the other, +hastily, as he brushed away the fragment of a piece of snuff with a +trembling hand; but he looked gratified, notwithstanding. 'Polly has +been a good girl--a very good girl--and weathered gallantly through a +very ticklish illness, though some of us thought she would never reach +England alive.' + +'Were you so ill, Polly?' inquired her guardian anxiously. + +'Dad Fabian says so; and he ought to know, for he and Mrs. Rogers nursed +me. Oh, he was so good to me,' continued Polly, clinging to him. 'He +used to sit up with me part of the night and tell me stories when I got +better, and go without his dinner sometimes to buy me fruit. Mrs. Rogers +was good-natured, too; but she was noisy. I like Dad Fabian's nursing +best.' + +'You see she fretted for her father,' interposed the artist. 'Polly's +one of the right sort--never gives way while there is work to be done; +and so the strain broke her down. She has lost most of her pretty hair. +Ellison used to be so proud of her curls; but it suits her, somehow. But +you must not keep your new friends waiting, my child. There, God bless +you! We shall be seeing you back again here one of these days, I dare +say.' + +Mildred felt as though her new life had begun from the moment the young +stranger crossed her threshold. Polly bade her guardian good-bye the +next day with unfeigned regret. 'I shall always feel I belong to him, +though he cannot have me to live with him,' she said, as she followed +Mildred into the house. 'Papa told me to love him, and I will. He is +different, somehow, from what I expected,' she continued. 'I thought he +would be gray-haired, like papa. He looks younger, and is not tall. Papa +was such a grand-looking man, and so handsome; but he has kind eyes--has +he not, Aunt Milly?--and speaks so gently.' + +Mildred was quite ready to pronounce an eulogium on Dr. Heriot. She had +already formed a high estimate of her brother's friend; his ready +courtesy and highly-bred manners had given her a pleasing impression, +while his gentleness to his ward, and a certain lofty tone of mind in +his conversation, proved him a man of good heart and of undoubted +ability. There was a latent humour at times discernible, and a certain +caustic wit, which, tinged as it was with melancholy, was highly +attractive. She felt that a man who had contrived to satisfy Betha's +somewhat fastidious taste could not fail to be above the ordinary +standard, and, though she did not quite echo Polly's enthusiasm, she was +able to respond sympathetically to the girl's louder praise. + +Before many days were over Polly had transferred a large portion of +loving allegiance to Mildred herself. Women--that is, ladies--had not +been very plentiful in her small circle. One or two of the artists' +wives had been kind to her; but Polly, who was an aristocrat by nature, +had rather rebelled against their want of refinement, and discovered +flaws which showed that, young as she was, she had plenty of +discernment. + +'Mrs. Rogers was noisy, and showed all her teeth when she laughed, and +tramped as she walked--in this way;' and Polly brought a very slender +foot to prove the argument. And Mrs. Hornby? Oh, she did not care for +Mrs. Hornby much--'she thought of nothing but smart dresses, and dining +at the restaurant, and she used such funny words--that men use, you +know. Papa never cared for me to be with her much; but he liked Mrs. +Rogers, though she fidgeted him dreadfully.' + +Mildred listened, amused and interested, to the girl's prattle. The +young creature on the stool at her feet was conversant with a life of +which she knew nothing, except from books. Polly would chatter for hours +together of picture-galleries and museums, and little feasts set out in +illuminated gardens, and of great lonely churches with swinging lamps, +and little tawdry shrines. Monks and nuns came familiarly into her +reminiscences. She had had _gateau_ and cherries in a convent-garden +once, and had swung among apple-blossoms in an orchard belonging to one. + +'I used to think I should like to be a nun once,' prattled Polly, 'and +wear a great white flapping cap, as they did in Belgium. Soeur Marie +used to be so kind. I shall never forget that long, straight lime-walk, +where the girls used to take their recreation, or sit under the +cherry-trees with their lace-work, while Soeur Marie read the lives of +the saints. Do you like reading the lives of the saints, Aunt Milly? I +don't. They are glorious, of course; but it pains me to know how +uncomfortable they made themselves.' + +'I do not think I have ever read any, Polly.' + +'Have you not?'--with a surprised arching of the brows. 'Soeur Marie +thought them the finest books in the world. She used to tell me stories +of many of them; and her face would flush and her eyes grow so bright, I +used to think she was a saint herself.' + +Mildred rarely interrupted the girl's narratives; but little bits +haunted her now and then, and lingered in her memory with tender +persistence. What sober prose her life seemed in contrast to that of +this fourteen-years' old girl! How bare and empty seemed her niche +compared to Polly's series of pictures! How clearly Mildred could see it +all! The wandering artist-life, in search of the beautiful, poverty +oppressing the mind less sadly when refreshed by novel scenes of +interest; the grave, taciturn Philip Ellison, banishing himself and his +pride in a self-chosen exile, and training his motherless child to the +same exclusiveness. + +The few humble friends, grouped under the same roof, and sharing the +same obscurity; stretching out the right hand of fellowship, which was +grasped, not cordially, but with a certain protest, the little room +which Polly described so graphically being a less favourite resort than +the one where Dad Fabian was painting his Tobit. + +'It was only after papa got so ill that Mrs. Rogers would bring up her +work and sit with us. Papa did not like it much; but he was so heavy +that I could not lift him alone, and, noisy as she was, she knew how to +cheer him up. Dad suited papa best: they used to talk so beautifully +together. You have no idea how Dad can talk, and how clever he is. Papa +used to say he was one of nature's gentlemen. His father was only a +working man, you know;' and Polly drew herself up with a gesture Mildred +had noticed before, and which was to draw upon her later the +_soubriquet_ of 'the princess.' + +'I think none the less of him for that,' returned Mildred, with gentle +reproof. + +'You are not like papa then,' observed Polly, with one of her pretty +gestures of dissent. 'It fretted him so being with people not nice in +their ways. The others would call him milord, and laugh at his grand +manners; but all the same they were afraid of him; every one feared him +but I; and I only loved him,' finished Polly, with one of her girlish +outbursts of emotion, which could only be soothed by extra petting on +Mildred's part. + +Mildred's soft heart was full of compassion for the lonely girl. Polly, +who cried herself to sleep every night for the longing for her lost +father, often woke to find Mildred sitting beside her bed watching her. + +'You were sleeping so restlessly, I thought I would look in on you,' was +all she said; but her motherly kiss spoke volumes. + +'How good you are to me, Aunt Milly,' Polly would say to her sometimes. +'I am getting to love you more every day; and then your voice is so +soft, and you have such nice ways. I think I shall be happy living with +you, and seeing my guardian every day; but we don't want Olive and +Chrissy, do we?'--for Mildred had described the vicarage and its +inhabitants--'It will feel as though we were in a beehive after this +quiet little nest,' as she observed once. Mildred smiled, as she always +did over Polly's quaint speeches, which were ripe at times with an +old-fashioned wisdom, gathered from the stored garner of age. She would +ponder over them sometimes in her slow way, when the girl was sleeping +her wet-eyed sleep. + +Would it come to her to regret the quietness of life which she was +laying by for ever as a garment that had galled and fretted her?--that +life she had inwardly compared to a dead mill-stream, flecked only by +the shadow and sunlight of perpetually recurring days? Would there come +a time when the burden and heat of the day would oppress her?--when the +load of existence would be too heavy to bear, and even this retrospect +of faint gray distances would seem fair by contrast? + +Women who lead contemplative and sedentary lives are overmuch given to +this sort of morbid self-questioning. They are for ever examining the +spiritual mechanism of their own natures, with the same result as though +one took up a feeble and growing plant by the root to judge of its +progress. They spend labour for that which is not bread. By and by, out +of the vigour of her busy life, Mildred learnt the wholesome sweetness +of a motto she ever afterwards cherished as her favourite: _Laborare est +orare_. Polly's questions, direct or indirect, sometimes ruffled the +elder woman's tranquillity, however gently she might put them by. 'Were +you ever a girl, Aunt Milly?--a girl like me, I mean?' And as Mildred +bit her lip and coloured slightly at a question that would have galled +any woman of eight-and-twenty, she continued, caressingly, 'You are so +nice; only just a trifle too solemn. I think, after all, I would rather +be Polly than you. You seem to have had no pictures in your life.' + +'My dear child, what do you mean?' returned Mildred; but she spoke with +a little effort. + +'I mean, you don't seem to have lived out pretty little bits, as I have. +You have walked every day over that common and down those long white +sunny roads, where there is nothing to imagine, unless one stares up at +the clouds--just clouds and dust and wheel-ruts. You have never gone +through a forest by moonlight, as I have, and stopped at a little +rickety inn, with a dozen _Jaeger_ drinking _lager-bier_ under the +linden-trees, and the peasants dancing in their _sabots_ on a strip of +lawn. You have never----' continued Polly breathlessly; but Mildred +interrupted her. + +'Stop, Polly; I love your reminiscences; but I want to ask you a +question. Is that all you saw in our walk to-day--clouds and dust and +wheel-ruts?' + +'I saw a hand-organ and a lazy monkey, and a brass band, driving me +frantic. It made me feel--oh, I can't tell you how I felt,' returned +Polly, with a grimace, and putting up her hands to her delicate little +ears. + +'The music was bad, certainly; but I found plenty to admire in our +walk.' + +Polly opened her eyes. 'You are not serious, Aunt Milly.' + +'Let me see: we went across the common, and then on. My pictures are +very humble ones, Polly; but I framed at least half-a-dozen for my +evening's refreshment.' + +Polly drew herself up a little scornfully. 'I don't admire monkeys, Aunt +Milly.' + +'What sort of eyes have you, child?' replied Mildred, who had recovered +her cheerfulness. 'Do you mean that you did not see that old blind man +with the white beard, and, evidently, his little grand-daughter, at his +knees, just before we crossed the common?' + +'Yes; I noticed she was a pretty child,' returned Polly, with reluctant +candour. + +'She and her blue hood and tippet, and the great yellow mongrel dog at +her feet, made a pretty little sketch, all by themselves; and then, when +we went on a little farther, there was the old gipsy-woman, with a +handsome young ne'er-do-weel of a boy. Let me tell you, Polly, Mr. +Fabian would have made something of his brown skin and rags. Oh, what +rags!' + +'She was a horrid old woman,' put in Polly, rather crossly. + +'Granted; but, with a clump of fir-trees behind her, and a bit of +sunset-clouds, she made up a striking picture. After that we came on a +flock of sheep. One of them had got caught in a furze-bush, and was +bleating terribly. We stood looking at it for full a minute before the +navvy kindly rescued it.' + +'I was sorry for the poor animal, of course. But, Aunt Milly, I don't +call that much of a picture.' + +'Nevertheless, it reminded me of the one that hangs in my room. To my +thinking it was highly suggestive; all the more, that it was an old +sheep, and had such a foolish, confiding face. We are never too old to +go astray,' continued Mildred, dreamily. + +'Three pictures, at least we have finished now,' asked Polly, +impatiently. + +'Finished! I could multiply that number threefold! Why, there was the +hay-stack, with the young heifers round it; and that red-tiled cottage, +with the pigeons tumbling and wheeling round the roof, and the +flower-girl asleep on my own doorstep, with the laburnum shedding its +yellow petals on her lap, to the great delight of the poor sickly baby. +Come, Polly; who made the most of their eyes this evening? Only clouds, +dust, and wheel-ruts, eh?' + +'You are too wise for me, Aunt Milly. Who would have thought you could +have seen all that? Dad Fabian ought to have heard you talk! We must go +out to-morrow evening, and you shall show me some more pictures. But +doesn't it strike you, Aunt Milly'--leaning her dimpled chin on her +hand--'that you have made the most of very poor material? After +all'--triumphantly--'there is not much in your pictures!' + + + + +CHAPTER III + +VIA TEBAY + + 'All the land in flowing squares. + Beneath a broad and equal blowing wind, + Smelt of the coming summer, as one large cloud + Drew downward; but all else of heaven was pure + Up to the sun, and May from verge to verge, + And May with me from head to heel. + + * * * * * + + To left and right + The cuckoo told his name to all the hills, + The mellow ouzel fluted in the elm, + The redcap whistled, and the nightingale + Sung loud, as though he were the bird of day.'--Tennyson. + + +'Aunt Milly, I can breathe now. Oh, how beautiful!' and Polly clapped +her hands with girlish glee, as the train slowly steamed into Tebay +Junction, the gray old station lying snugly among the green Westmorland +hills. + +'Oh, my dear, hush! who is that tall youth taking off his hat to us? not +Roy, surely, it must be Richard. Think of not knowing my own nephews!' +and Mildred looked distressed and puzzled. + +'Now, Aunt Milly, don't put yourself out; if this stupid door would only +open, I would get out and ask him myself. Oh, thank you,' as the youth +in question hurried forward to perform that necessary service, looking +at her, at the same time, rather curiously. 'If you please, Aunt Milly +wants to know if you are Roy or Richard.' + +'Roy,' was the prompt answer. 'What, are you Polly, and is that Aunt +Milly behind you? For shame, Aunt Milly, not to know me when I took my +hat off to you at least three minutes ago;' but Roy had the grace to +blush a little over this audacious statement as he helped Mildred out, +and returned her warm grasp of the hand. + +'My dear boy, how could you have known us, and Polly, a perfect +stranger, too?' + +Roy burst into a ringing laugh. + +'Why you see, Aunt Milly, one never loses by a little extra attention; +it always pays in the long run. I just took off my hat at random as the +train came in sight, and there, as it happened, was Polly's face glued +against the window. So I was right, and you were gratified!' + +'Now I am sure it is Roy.' + +'Roy, Rex, or Sauce Royal, as they called me at Sedbergh. Well, Miss +Polly,' with another curious look, 'we are _bona fide_ adopted cousins, +as Dr. John says, so we may as well shake hands.' + +'Humph,' was Polly's sole answer, as she gave her hand with the air of a +small duchess, over which Roy grimaced slightly; and then with a cordial +inflection of voice, as he turned to Mildred-- + +'Welcome to Westmorland, Aunt Milly--both of you, I mean; and I hope you +will like us, as much as we shall like you.' + +'Thank you, my boy; and to think I mistook you for Richard! How tall you +have grown, Royal.' + +'Ah, I was a bit of a lad when you were down here last. I am afraid I +should not have recognised you, Aunt Milly, but for Polly. Well, what is +it? you look disturbed; there is a vision of lost boxes in your eyes; +there, I knew I was right; don't be afraid, we are known here, and +Barton will look after all your belongings.' + +'But how long are we to remain? Polly is tired, poor child, and so am +I.' + +'You should have come by York, as Richard told you; always follow +Richard's advice, and you will never do wrong, so he thinks; now you +have two hours to wait, and yourself to thank, and only my pleasing +conversation to while away the time.' + +'You hard-hearted boy; can't you see Aunt Milly is ready to drop?' broke +in Polly, indignantly; 'how were we to know you lived so near the North +Pole? My guardian ought to have met us,' continued the little lady, with +dignity; 'he would have known what to have done for Aunt Milly.' + +Roy stared, and then burst into his ready, good-humoured laugh. + +'Whew! what a little termagant! Of course you are tired--women always +are; take my arm, Aunt Milly; lean on me; now we will go and have some +tea; let us know when the train starts, Barton, and look us out a +comfortable compartment;' and, so saying, Roy hurried his charges away; +Mildred's tired eyes resting admiringly on the long range of low, gray +buildings, picturesque, and strangely quiet, backed by the vivid green +of the great circling hills, which, to the eyes of southerners, invested +Tebay Junction with unusual interest. + +The refreshment-room was empty; there was a pleasant jingling of cups +and spoons behind the bar; in a twinkling the spotless white table-cloth +was covered with home-made bread, butter, and ham, and even Polly's brow +cleared like magic as she sipped her hot tea, and brought her healthy +girlish appetite to bear on the tempting Westmorland cakes. + +'There, Dr. John or Dick himself couldn't be a better squire of dames,' +observed Roy, complacently. 'Aunt Milly, when you have left off admiring +me, just close your eyes to your surroundings a little while--it will do +you no end of good.' + +Roy was rattling on almost boisterously, Mildred thought; but she was +right in attributing much of it to nervousness. Roy's light-heartedness +was assumed for the time; in reality, his sensitive nature was deeply +touched by this meeting with his aunt; his four-months'-old trouble was +still too recent to bear the least allusion. Betha's children were not +likely to forget her, and Roy, warmly as he welcomed his father's +sister, could not fail to remember whose place it was she would try so +inadequately to fill. Jokes never came amiss to Roy, and he had the +usual boyish dislike to show his feelings; but he was none the less sore +at heart, and the quick impatient sigh that was now and then jerked out +in the brief pauses of conversation spoke volumes to Mildred. + +'You are so like your mother,' she said, softly; but the boy's lip +quivered, and he turned so pale, that Mildred did not venture to say +more; she only looked at him with the sort of yearning pride that women +feel in those who are their own flesh and blood. + +'He is not a bit like Arnold, he is Betha's boy,' she thought to +herself; 'her "long laddie," as she used to call him. I dare say he is +weak and impulsive. Those sort of faces generally tell their own story +pretty correctly;' and the thought crossed her, that perhaps one of Dad +Fabian's womanish angels might have had the fair hair, long pale face, +and sleepy blue eyes, which were Roy's chief characteristics, and which +were striking enough in their way. + +Polly, who had soon got over her brief animosity, was now chattering to +him freely enough. + +'I think you will do, for a country boy,' she observed, patronisingly; +'people who live among the mountains are generally free and easy, and +not as polished as those who live in cities,' continued Polly, uttering +this sententious plagiarism as innocently as though it were the product +of her own wisdom. + +'Such kind of borrowing as this, if it be not bettered by the borrower, +among good authors, is accounted plagiary; see Milton,' said the boy, +fresh from Sedbergh, with a portentous frown, assumed for the occasion. +'Name your reference. I repel such vile insinuations, Miss Polly, as I +am a Westmorland boy.' + +'I learnt that in my dictation,' returned Polly, vexed, but too candid +for reticence; 'but Dad Fabian used to say the same thing; please don't +stroke Veteran Rag the wrong way, he does not like it.' + +'Poor old Veteran, he has won some scars, I see. I am afraid you are a +character, Polly. Rag and Tatters, and copybook wisdom, well-thumbed and +learnt, and then retailed as the original article. I wish Dr. John could +hear you; he would put you through your paces.' + +'Who is Dr. John?' asked Polly, coming down a little from her stilts, +and evidently relenting in favour of Roy's handsome face. + +'Oh, Dr. John is Dr. John, unless you choose to do as the world does, +and call him Dr. Heriot; he is Dr. John to us; after all, what's in a +name?' + +'I like my guardian to be called Dr. Heriot best; the other sounds +disrespectful and silly.' + +'We did not know your opinion before, you see,' returned Roy, with a +slight drawl, and almost closing his eyes; 'if you could have +telegraphed your wish to us three or four years ago it might have been +different; but with the strict conservative feeling prevalent at the +vicarage, I am afraid Dr. John it will remain, unless,' meditating +deeply; 'but no, he might not like it.' + +'What?' + +'Well, we might make it Dr. Jack, you know.' + +'After all, boys are nothing but plagues,' returned Polly, scornfully. + +'"Playa, plagua, plague, _et cetera, et cetera_, that which smites or +wounds; any afflictive evil or calamity; a great trial or vexation; also +an acute malignant febrile disease, that often prevails in Egypt, Syria, +and Turkey, and that has at times prevailed in the large cities of +Europe, with frightful mortality; hence any pestilence." Have you +swallowed Webster's _Dictionary_, Polly?' + +'My dears, I hope you do not mean to quarrel already?' + +'We are only sounding the depths of each other's wisdom. Polly is +awfully shallow, Aunt Milly; the sort of person, you know, who utilises +all the scraps. Wait till she sits at the feet of Gamaliel--Dr. John, I +mean; he is the one for finding out "all is not gold that glitters."' + +Mildred smiled. 'Let them fight it out,' she thought; 'no one can resist +long the charm of Polly's perfect honesty, and her pride is a little too +thin-skinned for daily comfort; good-natured raillery will be a +wholesome tonic. What a clever boy he is! only seventeen, too,' and she +shook her head indulgently at Roy. + +'Kirkby Stephen train starts, sir; all the luggage in; this way for the +ladies.' + +'Quick-march; down with you, Tatters; lie there, good dog. Don't let the +grass grow under your feet, Aunt Milly; there's a providential escape +for two tired and dusty Londoners. Next compartment, Andrews,' as the +red-coated guard bore down on their carriage. 'There, Aunt Milly,' with +an exquisite consideration that would have become Dr. John himself, 'I +have deferred an introduction to the squire himself.' + +'My dear Roy, how thoughtful of you. I am in no mood for introductions, +certainly,' returned Mildred, gratefully. + +'Women never are unless they have on their best bonnets; and, to tell +you the truth,' continued the incorrigible Roy, 'Mr. Trelawny is the +sort of man for whom one always furbishes up one's company manners. As +Dr. John says, there is nothing slip-shod, or in _deshabille_, in him. +Everything about him is so terribly perfect.' + +'Roy, Roy, what a quiz you are!' + +'Hush, there they come; the Lady of the Towers herself, Ethel the +Magnificent; the weaver of yards of flimsy verse, patched with rags and +shreds of wisdom, after Polly's fashion. Did you catch a glimpse of our +notabilities, Aunt Milly?' + +Mildred answered yes; she had caught a glimpse over Roy's shoulder of a +tall, thin, aristocratic-looking man; but the long sweep of silk drapery +and the outline of a pale face were all that she could see of the lady +with him. + +She began to wish that Roy would be a little less garrulous as the train +moved out of Tebay station, and bore them swiftly to their destination; +she was nerving herself for the meeting with her brother, and the sight +of the vicarage without the presence of its dearly-loved mistress, while +the view began to open so enchantingly before them on either side, that +she would willingly have enjoyed it in silence. But Polly was less +reticent, and her enthusiasm pleased Roy. + +'You see we are in the valley of the Lune,' he explained, his +grandiloquence giving place to boyish earnestness. 'Ours is one of the +loveliest spots in the whole district. Now we are at the bottom of +Ravenstone-dale, out of which it used to be said that the people would +never allow a good cow to go, or a rich heiress to be taken; and then we +shall come to Smardale Gill. Is it not pretty, with its clear little +stream running at the bottom, and its sides covered with brushwood? Now +we are in my father's parish,' exclaimed Roy, eagerly, as the train +swept over the viaduct. 'And now look out for Smardale Hall on the +right; once the residents were grand enough to have a portion of the +church to themselves, and it is still called Smardale Chapel; the whole +is now occupied by a farmhouse. Ah, now we are near the station. Do you +see that castellated building? that is Kirkleatham House, the Trelawnys' +place. Now look out for Dick, Aunt Milly. There he is! I thought so, he +has spotted the Lady of the Towers.' + +'My dear, is that Richard?' as a short and rather square-shouldered +young man, but decidedly good-looking, doffed his straw hat in answer to +some unseen greeting, and then peered inquiringly into their +compartment. + +'Ah, there you are, Rex. Have you brought them? How do you do, Aunt +Milly? Is that young lady with you Miss Ellison?' and he shook hands +rather formally, and without looking at Polly. 'I hope you did not find +your long stay at Tebay very wearisome. Did you give them some tea, Rex? +That's right. Please come with me, Aunt Milly; our waggonette is waiting +at the top of the steps.' + +'Oh, Richard, I wish you were not all such strangers to me!' Mildred +could not have helped that involuntary exclamation which came out of the +fulness of her heart. Her elder nephew was walking gravely by her side, +with slow even strides; he looked up a little surprised. + +'I suppose we must be that. After seven years' absence you will find us +all greatly changed of course. I remember you perfectly, but then I was +fourteen when you paid your last visit.' + +'You remember me? I hardly expected to hear you say that,' and Mildred +felt a glow of pleasure which all Roy's friendliness had not called +forth. + +'You are looking older--and as Dr. Heriot told us, somewhat ill; but it +is the same face of course. My father will be glad to welcome you, Aunt +Milly.' + +'And you?' + +His dark face flushed, and he looked a little discomfited. Mildred felt +sorry she had asked the question, it would offend his reticence. + +'It is early days for any of us to be glad about anything,' he returned +with effort. 'I think for my father's and the girls' sake, your coming +could not be too soon; you will not complain of our lack of welcome I +hope, though some of us may be a little backward in acting up to it.' + +'He is speaking of himself,' thought Mildred, and she answered the +unspoken thought very tenderly. 'You need not fear my misunderstanding +you, Richard; if you will let me be your friend as well as the others', +I shall be glad: but no one can fill her place.' + +He started, and drew his straw hat nervously over his brow. 'Thank you, +Aunt Milly,' was all he said, as he placed her in the waggonette, and +took the driver's seat on the box. + +'There are changes even here, Aunt Milly,' observed Roy, who had seated +himself opposite to her for the purpose of making pertinent observations +on the various landmarks they passed, and he pointed to the long row of +modern stuccoed and decidedly third-class villas springing tip near the +station. 'The new line brings this. We are in the suburbs of Kirkby +Stephen, and I dare say you hardly know where you are;' a fact which +Mildred could not deny, though recognition dawned on her senses, as the +low stone houses and whitewashed cottages came in sight; and then the +wide street paved with small blue cobbles out of the river, and small +old-fashioned shops, and a few gray bay-windowed houses bearing the +stamp of age, and well-worn respectability. Ah, there was the +market-place, with the children playing as usual round the old pump, and +the group of loiterers sunning themselves outside the Red Lion. Through +the grating and low archway of the empty butter-market Mildred could see +the grass-grown paths and gleaming tombstones and the gray tower of the +grand old church itself. The approach to the vicarage was singularly +ill-adapted to any but pedestrians. It required a steady hand and eye to +guide a pair of spirited horses round the sharp angles of the narrow +winding alley, but the little country-bred browns knew their work. The +vicarage gates were wide open, and two black figures were shading their +eyes in the porch. But Richard, instead of driving in at the gate, +reined in his horses so suddenly that he nearly brought them on their +haunches, and leaning backward over the box, pointed with his whip +across the road. + +'There is my father taking his usual evening stroll--never mind the +girls, Aunt Milly. I dare say you would rather meet him alone.' + +Mildred stood up and steadied herself by laying a hand on Richard's +shoulder. The sun was setting, and the gray old church stood out in fine +relief in the warm evening light, blue breadths of sky behind it, and +shifting golden lines of sunny clouds in the distance; while down the +quiet paths, bareheaded and with hands folded behind his back, was a +tall stooping figure, with scanty gray hair falling low on his neck, +walking to and fro, with measured, uneven tread. + +The hand on Richard's shoulder shook visibly; Mildred was trembling all +over. + +'Arnold! Oh, how old he looks! How thin and bowed! Oh, my poor brother.' + +'You must make allowance for the shock he has had--that we have all +had,' returned Richard in a soothing tone. 'He always walks like this, +and at the same time. Go to him, Aunt Milly, it does him good to be +roused.' + +Mildred obeyed, though her limbs moved stiffly; the little gate swung +behind her; a tame goat browsing among the tombs bleated and strained at +its tether as she passed; but the figure she followed still continued +its slow, monotonous walk. + +Mildred shrunk back for a moment into the deep church porch to pause and +recover herself. At the end of the path there were steps and an unused +gate leading to the market; he must turn then. + +How quiet and peaceful it all looked! The dark range of school buildings +buried in shadow, the sombre line of houses closing in two sides of the +churchyard. Behind the vicarage the purple-rimmed hills just fading into +indistinctness. Up and down the stone alley some children were playing, +one wee toddling mite was peeping through the railings at Mildred. The +goat still bleated in the distance; a large blue-black terrier swept in +hot pursuit of his master. + +'Ah, Pupsie, have you found me? The evenings are chilly still; so, so, +old dog, we will go in.' + +Mildred waited for a moment and then glided out from the porch--he +turned, saw her, and held out his arms without a word. + +Mr. Lambert was the first to recover himself; for Mildred's tears, +always long in coming, were now falling like rain. + +'A sad welcome, my dear; but there, she would not have us grieving like +this.' + +'Oh, Arnold, how you have suffered! I never realised how much, till +Richard stopped the horses, and then I saw you walking alone in the +churchyard. The dews are falling, and you are bareheaded. You should +take better care of yourself, for the children's sake.' + +'Ay, ay; just what she said; but it has grown into a sort of habit with +me. Cardie comes and fetches me in, night after night; the lad is a good +lad; his mother was right after all.' + +'Dear Betha; but you have not laid her here, Arnold?' + +He shook his head. + +'I could not, Mildred, though she wished it as much as I did. She often +said she would like to lie within sight of the home where she had been +so happy, and under the shadow of the church porch. She liked the +thought of her children's feet passing so near her on their way to +church, but I had no power to carry out her wish.' + +'You mean the churchyard is closed?' + +'Yes, owing to the increase of population, the influx of railway +labourers, and the union workhouse, deaths in the parish became so +numerous that there was danger of overcrowding. She lies in the +cemetery.' + +'Ah! I remember.' + +'I do not think her funeral will ever be forgotten; people came for +miles round to pay their last homage to my darling. One old woman over +eighty came all the way from Castlesteads to see her last of "the +gradely leddy," as she called her. You should have seen it, to know how +she was loved.' + +'She made you very happy while she lived, Arnold!' + +'Too happy!--look at me now. I have the children, of course, poor +things; but in losing her, I feel I have lost the best of everything, +and must walk for ever in the shadow.' + +He spoke in the vague musing tone that had grown on him of late, and +which was new to Mildred--the worn, set features and gray hair +contrasted strangely with the vivid brightness of his eyes, at once keen +and youthful; he had been a man in the prime of life, vigorous and +strong, when Mildred had seen him last; but a long illness and deadly +sorrow had wasted his energy, and bowed his upright figure, as though +the weight were physical as well as mental. + +'But this is a poor welcome, Milly; and you must be tired and starved +after your day's journey. You are not looking robust either, my +dear--not a trace of the old blooming Milly' (touching her thin cheek +sorrowfully). 'Well, well, the children must take care of you, and we'll +get Dr. Heriot to prescribe. Has the child come with you after all?' + +Mildred signified assent. + +'I am glad of it. Thank you heartily for your ready help, Milly; we +would do anything for Heriot; the boys treat him as a sort of elder +brother, and the girls are fond of him, though they lead him a life +sometimes. He is very grateful to you, and says you have lifted a +mountain off him. Is the girl a nice girl, eh?' + +'I must leave you to judge of that. She has interested me, at any rate; +she is thoroughly loveable.' + +'She will shake down among the others, and become one of us, I hope. Ah! +well, that will be your department, Mildred. + +I am not much to be depended on for anything but parish matters. When a +man loses hope and energy it is all up with him.' + +The little gate swung after them as he spoke; the flower-bordered +courtyard before the vicarage seemed half full of moving figures as they +crossed the road; and in another moment Mildred was greeting her nieces, +and introducing Polly to her brother. + +'I cannot be expected to remember you both,' she said, as Olive timidly, +and Christine rather coldly, returned her kiss. 'You were such little +girls when I last saw you.' + +But with Mildred's tone of benevolence there mingled a little dismay. +Betha's girls were decidedly odd. + +Olive, who was a year older than Polly, and who was quite a head taller, +had just gained the thin ungainly age, when to the eyes of anxious +guardians the extremities appear in the light of afflictive +dispensations; and premature old age is symbolised by the rounded and +stooping shoulders, and sunken chest; the age of trodden-down heels and +ragged finger-ends, when the glory of the woman, as St. Paul calls it, +instead of being coiled into smooth knots, or swept round in faultless +plaits, of coroneted beauty, presents a vista of frayed ends and +multitudinous hair-pins. Olive's loosely-dropping hair and dark cloudy +face gave Mildred a shock; the girl was plain too, though the irregular +features beamed at times with a look of intelligence. Christine, who was +two years younger, and much better-looking, in spite of a rough, +yellowish mane, had an odd, original face, a pert nose, argumentative +chin, and restless dark eyes, which already looked critically at persons +and things. 'Contradiction Chriss,' as the boys called her, was +certainly a character in her way. + +'Are you tired, aunt? Will you come in?' asked Olive, in a low voice, +turning a dull sort of red as she spoke. 'Cardie thinks you are, and +supper is ready, and----' + +'I am very tired, dear, and so is Polly,' answered Mildred, cheerfully, +as she followed Olive across the dimly-lighted hall, with its +old-fashioned fireplace and settles; its tables piled up with coats and +hats, which had found their way to the harmonium too. + +They went up the low, broad staircase Mildred remembered so well, with +its carved balustrades and pretty red and white drugget, and the great +blue China jars in the window recesses. + +The study door stood open, and Mildred had a glimpse of the high-backed +chair, and table littered over with papers, before she began ascending +again, and came out into the low-ceiled passage, with deep-set lattice +windows looking on the court and churchyard. + +'Chrissy and I sleep here,' explained Olive, panting slightly from +nervousness, as Mildred looked inquiringly at her. 'We thought--at least +Cardie thought--this little room next to us would do for Miss Ellison.' + +Polly peeped in delightedly. It was small, but cosy, with a +curiously-shaped bedstead--the head having a resemblance to a Latin +cross, with three pegs covered with white dimity. The room was neatly +arranged--a decided contrast to the one they had just passed; and there +was even an effort at decoration, for the black bars of the grate were +entwined with sprays of honesty--the shining, pearly leaves grouped also +in a tall red jar, on the mantelpiece. + +'That is a pretty idea. Was it yours, Olive?' + +Olive nodded. 'Father thought you would like your old room, aunt--the +one he and mother always called yours.' + +The tears came again in Mildred's eyes. Somehow it seemed but yesterday +since Betha welcomed her so warmly, and showed her the room she was +always to call hers. There was the tiny dressing-room, with its distant +view, and the quaint old-fashioned room, with an oaken beam running +across the low ceiling, and its wide bay-window. + +There was the same heartsease paper that Mildred remembered seven years +ago, the same flowery chintz, the curious old quilt, a hundred years +old, covered with twining carnations. The very fringe that edged the +beam spoke to her of a brother's thoughtfulness, while the same hand had +designed the motto which from henceforth was to be Mildred's +own--'_Laborare est orare_.' + +'The lines are fallen to me in pleasant places,' whispered Mildred as +she drew near the window, and stood there spell-bound by the scene, +which, though well-remembered, seemed to come before her with new +beauty. + +Underneath her lay the vicarage garden, with its terrace walk and small, +trim lawn; and down below, half hidden by a steep wooded bank, flowed +the Eden, its pebbly beach lying dry under the low garden wall, but +farther on plashing with silvery gleams through the thick foliage. + +To the right was the footbridge leading to the meadows, and beyond that +the water-mill and the weir; and as far as eye could reach, green +uplands and sweeps of pasturage, belted here and there with trees, and +closing in the distance soft ranges of fells, ridge beyond ridge, fading +now into gray indistinctness, but glorious to look upon when the sun +shone down upon their 'paradise of purple and the golden slopes atween +them,' or the storm clouds, lowering over them, tinged them with darker +violet. + +'A place to live in and die in,' thought Mildred, solemnly, as the last +thing that night she stood looking out into the moonlight. + +The hills were invisible now, but gleams of watery brightness shone +between the trees, and the garden lay flooded in the silver light. A +light wind stirred the foliage with a soft soughing movement, and some +animal straying to the river to drink trod crisply on the dry pebbles. + +'A place where one should think good thoughts and live out one's best +life,' continued Mildred, dreamily. A sigh, almost a groan, from beneath +her open window seemed to answer her unspoken thought; and then a dark +figure moved quietly away. It was Richard! + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +MILDRED'S NEW HOME + + 'Half drowned in sleepy peace it lay, + As satiate with the boundless play + Of sunshine on its green array. + And clear-cut hills of gloomy blue, + To keep it safe, rose up behind, + As with a charmed ring to bind + The grassy sea, where clouds might find + A place to bring their shadows to.'--Jean Ingelow. + + +'Aunt Milly, I have wakened to find myself in Paradise,' were the first +words that greeted Mildred's drowsy senses the next morning; and she +opened her eyes to find the sun streaming in through the great +uncurtained window, and Polly in her white dressing-gown, curled up on +the low chair, gazing out in rapturous contemplation. + +'It must be very early,' observed Mildred, wearily. She was fatigued +with her journey and the long vigil she had kept the preceding night, +and felt a little discontented with the girl's birdlike activity. + +'One ought not to be tired in Paradise,' returned Polly, reprovingly. +'Do people have aches and pains and sore hearts here, I wonder--in the +valley of the Eden, as he called it--and yet Mr. Lambert looks sad +enough, and so does Richard. Do you like Richard, Aunt Milly?' + +'Very much,' returned Mildred, with signs of returning animation in her +voice. + +'Well, he is not bad--for an icicle,' was Polly's quaint retort; 'but I +like Roy best; he is tiresome, of course--all boys are--but oh, those +girls, Aunt Milly!' + +'Well, what of them?' asked Mildred, in an amused voice. 'I am sure you +could not judge of them last night, poor things; they were too shy.' + +'They were dreadful. Oh, Aunt Milly, don't let us talk of them!' + +'I am sure Olive is clever, Polly; her face is full of intelligence. +Christine is a mere child.' + +Polly shrugged her shoulders. She did not care to argue on such an +uninteresting question. The little lady's dainty taste was offended by +the somewhat uncouth appearance of the sisters. She changed the subject +deftly. + +'How the birds are singing! I think the starlings are building their +nests under the roof, they are flying in and out and chirping so busily. +How still it is on the fells! There is an old gray horse feeding by the +bridge, and some red and white cattle coming over the side of the hill. +This is better than your old Clapham pictures, Aunt Milly.' + +Mildred smiled; she thought so too. + +'Roy says the river is a good way below, and that it is rather a +dangerous place to climb. He thinks nothing of it--but then he is a boy! +How blue the hills are this morning! They look quite near. But Roy says +they are miles away. That long violet one is called the Nine Standards, +and over there are Hartley Fells. We were out on the terrace last night, +and he told me their names. Roy is very fond of talk, I think; but +Richard stood near us all the time, and never said a word, except to +scold Roy for chattering so much.' + +'Richard was afraid the sound of your voices would disturb my brother.' + +'That is the worst of it, as Roy says, Richard is always in the right. I +don't think Roy is unfeeling, but he forgets sometimes; he told me so +himself. We had quite a long talk when the others went in.' + +'You and he seem already very good friends.' + +'Yes, he is a tolerably nice boy,' returned Polly, condescendingly; 'and +we shall get on very well together, I dare say. Now I will leave you in +peace, Aunt Milly, to finish dressing; for I mean to make acquaintance +with that big green hill before breakfast.' + +Mildred was not sorry to be left in peace. It was still early. So, while +Polly wetted her feet in the grass, Mildred went softly downstairs to +refresh her eyes and memory with a quiet look at the old rooms in their +morning freshness. + +The door of her brother's study stood open, and she ventured in, almost +holding her breath, lest her step should reach his ear in the adjoining +room. + +There was the chair where he always sat, with his gray head against the +light, the one narrow old-fashioned window framing only a small portion +of the magnificent prospect. There were the overflowing waste-paper +baskets, as usual, brimming over their contents on the carpet--the table +a hopeless chaos of documents, pamphlets, and books of reference. + +There were some attempts at arrangement in the well-filled bookcases +that occupied two sides of the small room, but the old corner behind the +mother's chair and work-table still held the debris of the renowned +Tower of Babel, and a family tendency to draw out the lower books +without removing the upper ones had resulted in numerous overthrows, so +that even Mr. Lambert objected to add to the dusty confusion. + +Books and papers were everywhere; they littered even the couch--that +couch where Betha had lain for so many months, only tired, before they +discovered what ailed her--the couch where her husband had laid the +little light figure morning after morning, till she had grown too ill to +be moved even that short distance. + +Looking round, Mildred could understand the growing helplessness of the +man who had lost his right band and helpmeet; the answer and ready +sympathy that never failed him were wanting now; the comely, bright +presence had gone from his sight; the tones that had always vibrated so +sweetly in his ear were silent for ever. With his lonely broodings there +must ever mix a bitter regret, and the dull, perpetual anguish of a +yearning never to be satisfied. Earth is full of these desolations, +which come alike on the evil and the good--mysteries of suffering never +to be understood here, but which, to such natures as Arnold Lambert's, +are but as the Refiner's furnace, purging the dross of earthly passion +and centring them on things above. + +Instinctively Mildred comprehended this, as her eye fell on the open +pages of the Bible--the Bible that had been her husband's wedding gift +to Betha, and in which she had striven to read with failing eyes the +very day before her death. + +Mildred touched it reverently and turned away. + +She lingered for a moment in the dining-room, where a buxom North +countrywoman was laying the table for breakfast. Everything here was +unchanged. + +It was still the same homely, green, wainscotted room, with high, narrow +windows looking on to the terrace. There was the same low, old-fashioned +sideboard and silk-lined chiffonnier; the same leathern couch and +cumbrous easy-chair; the same picture of 'Virtue and Vice,' smiling and +glaring over the high wooden mantelpiece. Yes, the dear old room, as +Mildred had fondly termed it in her happy three months' visit, was +exactly the same; but Betha's drawing-room was metamorphosed into +fairyland. + +All Arnold's descriptions had not prepared her for the pleasant +surprise. Behind the double folding-doors lay a perfect picture-room, +its wide bay looking over the sunny hills, and a glass door opening on +the beck gravel of the courtyard. + +Outside, the long levels of green, with Cuyp-like touches of brown and +red cattle, grouped together on the shady bank, tender hints of water +gleaming through the trees, and the soft billowy ridges beyond; within, +the faint purple and golden tints of the antique jars and vases, and +shelves of rare porcelain, the rich hues of the china harmonising with +the high-backed ebony chairs and cabinet, and the high, +elaborately-finished mantelpiece, curiously inlaid with glass, and +fitted up with tiny articles of _vertu_; the soft, blue hangings and +Sevres table and other dainty finishes giving a rich tone of colour to +the whole. Mr. Lambert was somewhat of a _dilettante_, and his accurate +taste had effected many improvements in the vicarage, as well as having +largely aided in the work nearest his heart--the restoration of his +church. + +The real frontage of the vicarage looked towards the garden terrace and +Hillsbottom, the broad meadow that stretched out towards Hartley Fells, +with Hartley Fold Farm and Hartley Castle in the distance; from its +upper window the Nine Standards and Mallerstang, and to the south +Wild-boar Fells, were plainly visible. But the usual mode of entrance +was at the back. The gravelled sweep of courtyard, with its narrow grass +bordering and flower-bed, communicated with the outhouses and +stable-yard by means of a green door in the wall. The part of the +vicarage appropriated to the servants' use was very old, dating, it is +said, from the days of Henry VIII, and some of the old windows were +still remaining. Mildred remembered the great stone kitchen and rambling +cellarage and the cosy housekeeper's room, where Betha had distilled her +fragrant waters and tied up her preserves. As she passed down the long +passage leading to the garden-door she could see old Nan, bare-armed and +bustling, clattering across the stones in her country clogs, the sunny +backyard distinctly visible. Some hens were clucking round a yellow pan; +the goat bleated from the distance; the white tombstones gleamed in the +morning sun; a scythe cut crisply through the wet grass; a fleet step on +the gravel behind the little summer-house lingered and then turned. + +'You are early, Aunt Milly--at least, for a Londoner, though we are +early people here, as you will find. I hope you have slept well.' + +'Not very well; my thoughts were too busy. Is it too early to go over to +the church yet, Richard?' + +'The bells will not ring for another half-hour, if that is what you +mean; but the key hangs in my father's study. I can take you over if you +wish.' + +'No, do not let me hinder you,' glancing at the Greek lexicon he held in +his hand. + +'Oh, my time is not so valuable as that,' he returned, good-humouredly. +'Of course you must see the restoration; it is my father's great work, +and he is justly proud of it. If you go over, Aunt Milly, I will be with +you in a minute.' + +Mildred obeyed, and waited in the grand old porch till Richard made his +appearance, panting, and slightly disturbed. + +'It was mislaid, as usual. When you get used to us a little more, Aunt +Milly, you will find that no one puts anything in its proper place. It +used not to be so' he continued, in a suppressed voice; 'but we have got +into sad ways lately; and Olive is a wretched manager.' + +'She is so young, Richard. What can you expect from a girl of fifteen?' + +'I have seen little women and little mothers at that age,' he returned, +with brusque quaintness. 'Some girls, placed as she is, would be quite +different; but Livy cares for nothing but books.' + +'She is clever then?' + +'I suppose so,' indifferently. 'My father says so, and so did----(he +paused, as though the word were difficult to utter)--'but--but she was +always trying to make her more womanly. Don't you think clever women are +intolerable, Aunt Milly?' + +'Not if they have wise heads and good hearts; but they need peculiar +training. Oh, how solemn and beautiful!' as Richard at last unlocked the +door; and they entered the vast empty church, with the morning sun +shining on its long aisles and glorious arcades. + +Richard's querulous voice was hushed in tender reverence now, as he +called Mildred to admire the highly-decorated roof and massive pillars, +and pointed out to her the different parts that had been restored. + +'The nave is Early English, and was built in 1220; the north aisle is of +the original width, and was restored in Perpendicular style; the window +at the eastern end is Early English too. The south aisle was widened +about 1500, and has been restored in the Perpendicular; and the +transepts are Early English, in which style the chancel also has been +rebuilt. Nothing of the original remains except the Sedilia, probably +late Early English, or perhaps the period sometimes called Wavy, or +Decorated.' + +'You know it all by heart, Richard. How grand those arches are; the +church itself is almost cathedral-like in its vast size.' + +'We are very fond of it,' he returned, gravely. 'Do you recollect this +chapel? It is called the Musgrave Chapel. One of these tombs belonged to +Sir Thomas Musgrave, who is said to have killed the last wild boar seen +in these parts, about the time of Edward III.' + +'Ah! I remember hearing that. You are a capital guide, Richard.' + +'Since my father has been ill, I have always taken strangers over the +church, and so one must be acquainted with the details. This is the +Wharton Chapel, Aunt Milly; and here is the tomb of Lord Thomas Wharton +and his two wives; it was built as a mortuary chapel, in the reign of +Elizabeth, so my father says. Ah! there is the bell, and I must go into +the vestry and see if my father be ready.' + +'You have not got a surpliced choir yet, Richard?' + +He shook his head. + +'We have to deal with northern prejudices; you have no idea how narrow +and bigoted some minds can be. I could tell you of a parish, not thirty +miles from here, where a sprig of holly in the church at Christmas would +breed a riot.' + +'Impossible, Richard!' + +'You should hear some of the Squire's stories about twenty years ago; +these are enlightened times compared to them. We are getting on +tolerably well, and can afford to wait; our daily services are badly +attended. There is the vicarage pew, Aunt Milly; I must go now.' + +Only nineteen--Richard's mannishness was absolutely striking; how wise +and sensible he seemed, and yet what underlying bitterness there was in +his words as he spoke of Olive. 'His heart is sore, poor lad, with +missing his mother,' thought Mildred, as she watched the athletic +figure, rather strong than graceful, cross the broad chancel; and then, +as she sat admiring the noble pulpit of Shap granite and Syenetic +marble, the vicarage pew began slowly to fill, and two or three people +took their places. + +Mildred stole a glance at her nieces: Olive looked heavy-eyed and +absent; and Chriss more untidy than she had been the previous night. +When service had begun she nudged her aunt twice, once to say Dr. Heriot +was not there, and next that Roy and Polly had come in late, and were +hiding behind the last pillar. She would have said more, but Richard +frowned her into silence. It was rather a dreary service; there was no +music, and the responses, with the exception of Richard's, were +inaudible in the vast building; but Mildred thought it restful, though +she grieved to see that her brother's worn face looked thinner and +sadder in the morning light, and his tall figure more bowed and feeble. + +He waited for her in the porch, where she lingered behind the others, +and greeted her with his old smile; and then he took Richard's arm. + +'We have a poor congregation you see, Mildred; even Heriot was not +there.' + +'Is he usually?' she asked, somewhat quickly. + +'I have never known him miss, unless some bad case has kept him up at +night. He joined us reluctantly at first, and more to please us than +himself; but he has grown into believing there is no fitter manner of +beginning the day; his example has infected two or three others, but I +am afraid we rarely number over a dozen. We do a little better at six +o'clock.' + +'It must be very disheartening to you, Arnold.' + +'I do not permit myself to feel so; if the people will not come, at +least they do not lack invitation--twice a day the bells ring out their +reproachful call. I wish Christians were half as devout as Mahometans.' + +'Mrs. Sadler calls it new-fangled nonsense, and says she has not time to +be always in church,' interrupted Chrissy, in her self-sufficient +treble. + +'My little Chriss, it is not good to repeat people's words. Mrs. Sadler +has small means and a large family, and the way she brings them up is +highly creditable.' But his gentle reproof fell unheeded. + +'But she need not have told Miss Martingale that she knew you were a +Ritualist at heart, and that the daily services were unnecessary +innovations,' returned Chrissy, stammering slightly over the long words. + +'Now, Contradiction, no one asked for this valuable piece of +information,' exclaimed Roy, with a warning pull at the rough tawny +mane; 'little girls like you ought not to meddle in parish matters. You +see Gregory has been steadily at work this morning, father,' pointing to +the long swathes of cut grass under the trees; 'the churchyard will be a +credit to us yet.' + +But Roy's good-natured artifice to turn his father's thoughts into a +pleasanter channel failed to lift the cloud that Chrissy's unfortunate +speech had raised. + +'Innovations! new-fangled ideas!' he muttered, in a grieved voice, +'simple obedience--that I dare not, on the peril of a bad conscience, +withhold, to the rules of the Church, to the loving precept that bids me +gather her children into morning and evening prayer.' + +'Contradiction, you deserve half-a-dozen pinches for this,' whispered +Roy; 'you have set him off on an old grievance.' + +'Never sacrifice principles, Cardie, when you are in my position,' +continued Mr. Lambert. 'If I had listened to opposing voices, our bells +would have kept silence from one Sunday to another. Ah, Milly! I often +ask myself, "Can these dry bones live?" The husks and tares that choke +the good seed in these narrow minds that listen to me Sunday after +Sunday would test the patience of any faithful preacher.' + +'Aunt Milly looks tired, and would be glad of her breakfast,' interposed +Richard. + +Mildred thanked him silently with her eyes; she knew her brother +sufficiently of old to dread the long vague self-argument that would +have detained them for another half-hour in the porch had not Richard's +dexterous hint proved effectual. Mildred learnt a great deal of the +habits of the family during the hour that followed; the quiet watchful +eyes made their own observation--and though she said little, nothing +escaped her tender scrutiny. She saw her brother would have eaten +nothing but for the half-laughing, half-coaxing attentions of Roy, who +sat next him. Roy prepared his egg, and buttered his toast, and placed +the cresses daintily on his plate, unperceived by Mr. Lambert, who was +opening his letters and glancing over his papers. + +When he had finished--and his appetite was very small--he pushed away +his plate, and sat looking over the fells, evidently lost in thought. +But his children, as though accustomed to his silence, took no further +notice of him, but carried on the conversation among themselves, only +dropping their voices when a heavier sigh than usual broke upon their +ears. The table was spread with a superabundance of viands that +surprised Mildred; but the cloth was not over clean, and was stained +with coffee in several places. Mildred fancied that it was to obviate +such a catastrophe for the future that Richard sat near the urn. A +German grammar lay behind the cups and saucers, and Olive munched her +bread and butter very ungracefully over it, only raising her head when +querulous or reproachful demands for coffee roused her reluctant +attention, and it evidently needed Richard's watchfulness that the cups +were not returned unsweetened to their owner. + +'There, you have done it again,' Mildred heard him say in a low voice. +'The second clean cloth this week disfigured with these unsightly brown +patches.' + +'Something must be the matter with the urn,' exclaimed Olive, looking +helplessly with regretful eyes at the mischief. + +'Nonsense, the only fault is that you will do two things at a time. You +have eaten no breakfast, at least next to none, and made us all +uncomfortable. And pray how much German have you done?' + +'I can't help it, Cardie; I have so much to do, and there seems no time +for things.' + +'I should say not, to judge by this,' interposed Roy, wickedly, +executing a pirouette round his sister's chair, to bring a large hole in +his sock to view. 'Positively the only pair in my drawers. It is too +hard, isn't it, Dick?' + +But Richard's disgust was evidently too great for words, and the +unbecoming flush deepened on Olive's sallow cheeks. + +'I was working up to twelve o'clock at night,' she said, looking ready +to cry, and appealing to her silent accuser. 'Don't laugh, Chriss, you +were asleep; how could you know?' + +'Were you mending this?' asked her brother gravely, holding up a breadth +of torn crape for her inspection, fastened by pins, and already woefully +frayed out. + +'I had no time,' still defending herself heavily, but without temper. +'Please leave it alone, Cardie, you are making it worse. I had Chriss's +frock to do; and I was hunting for your things, but I could not find +them.' + +'I dare say not. I dare not trust myself to your tender mercies. I took +a carpet bagful down to old Margaret. If Rex took my advice, he would do +the same.' + +'No, no, I will do his to-day. I will indeed, Rex. I am so sorry about +it. Chriss ought to help me, but she never does, and she tears her +things so dreadfully,' finished Olive, reproachfully. + +'What can you expect from a contradicting baby,' returned Roy, with +another pull at the ill-kempt locks as he passed. Chriss gave him a +vixenish look, but her aunt's presence proved a restraining influence. +Evidently Chriss was not a favourite with her brothers, for Roy teased, +and Richard snubbed her pertness severely. Roy, however, seemed to +possess a fund of sweet temper for family use, which was a marked +contrast to Richard's dictatorial and somewhat stern manner, and he +hastened now to cover poor Olive's discomfiture. + +'Never mind, Lily, a little extra ventilation is not unhealthy, and is a +somewhat wholesome discipline; you may cobble me up a pair for to-morrow +if you like.' + +'You are very good, Roy, but I am sorry all the same, only Cardie will +not believe it,' returned Olive. There were tears in the poor girl's +voice, and she evidently felt her brother's reproof keenly. + +'Actions are better than words,' was the curt reply. 'But this is not +very amusing for Aunt Milly. What are you and Miss Ellison going to do +with yourselves this morning?' + +'Bother Miss Ellison; why don't you call her Polly?' burst in Roy, +irreverently. + +'I have not given him leave,' returned the little lady haughtily. 'You +were rude, and took the permission without asking.' + +'Nonsense, don't be dignified, Polly; it does' not suit you. We are +cousins, aren't we? brothers and sisters once removed?' + +'I am Aunt Milly's niece; but I am not to call him Uncle Arnold, am I?' +was Polly's unexpected retort. But the shout it raised roused even Mr. +Lambert. + +'Call me what you like, my dear; never mind my boy's mischief,' laying +his hand on Roy's shoulder caressingly. 'He is as skittish and full of +humour as a colt; but a good lad in the main.' + +Polly contemplated them gravely, and pondered the question; then she +reached out a little hand and touched Mr. Lambert timidly. + +'No! I will not call you Uncle Arnold; it does not seem natural. I like +Mr. Lambert best. But Roy is nice, and may call me what he likes; and +Richard, too, if he will not be so cross.' + +'Thanks, my princess,' answered Roy, with mocking reverence. 'So you +don't approve of Dick's temper, eh?' + +'I think Olive stupid to bear it; but he means well,' returned Polly +composedly. And as Richard drew himself up affronted at the young +stranger's plain speaking, she looked in his face, in her frank childish +way, 'Cardie is prettier than Richard, and I will call you that if you +like, but you must not frown at me and tell me to do things as you tell +Olive. I am not accustomed to be treated like a little sheep,' finished +Polly, naively; and Richard, despite his vexed dignity, was compelled to +join in the laugh that greeted this speech. + +'Polly and I ought to unpack,' suggested Mildred, in her wise +matter-of-fact way, hoping to restore the harmony that every moment +seemed to disturb. + +'No one will invade your privacy to-day, Aunt Milly; it would be a +violation of county etiquette to call upon strangers till they had been +seen at church. You and Miss----' Richard paused awkwardly, and hurried +on--'You will have plenty of time to settle yourself and get rested.' + +'Fie, Dick--what a blank. You are to be nameless now, Polly,' + +'Don't be so insufferably tiresome, Rex; one can never begin a sensible +conversation in this house, what with Chriss's contradictions on one +side and your jokes on the other.' + +'Poor old Issachar between two burdens,' returned Roy, patting him +lightly. 'Cheer up; don't lose heart; try again, my lad. Aunt Milly, +when you have finished with Polly, I want to show her Podgill, our +favourite wood; and Olive and Chriss shall go too.' + +'Wait till the afternoon, Roy, and then we can manage it,' broke in +Chriss, breathlessly. + +'You can go, Christine, but I have no time,' returned Olive wearily; but +as Richard seemed on the point of making some comment, she gathered up +her books, and, stumbling heavily over her torn dress in her haste, +hurried from the room. + +Mildred and Polly shut themselves in their rooms, and were busy till +dinner-time. Once or twice when Mildred had occasion to go downstairs +she came upon Olive; once she was standing by the hall table jingling a +basket of keys, and evidently in weary argument on domestic matters with +Nan--Nan's broad Westmorland dialect striking sharply against Olive's +feeble refined key. + +'Titter its dune an better, Miss Olive--t' butcher will send fleshmeat +sure enough, but I maun gang and order it mysel'.' + +'Very well, Nan, but it must not be that joint; Mr. Richard does not +like it, and----' + +'Eh! I cares lile for Master Richard,' grumbled Nan, crossly. 'T'auld +maister is starved amyast--a few broth will suit him best.' + +'But we can have the broth as well,' returned Olive, with patient +persistence. 'Mamma always studied what Richard liked, and he must not +feel the difference now.' + +'Nay, then I maun just gang butcher's mysel', and see after it.' + +But Mildred heard no more. By and by, as she was sorting some books on +the window seat, she saw Chrissy scudding across the courtyard, and +Olive following her with a heavy load of books in her arms; the elder +girl was plodding on with downcast head and stooping shoulders, the +unfortunate black dress trailing unheeded over the rough beck gravel, +and the German grammar still open in her hand. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +OLIVE + + 'The yearnings of her solitary spirit, the out-gushings of her + shrinking sensibility, the cravings of her alienated heart, are + indulged only in the quiet holiness of her solitude. The world + sees not, guesses not the conflict, and in the ignorance of + others lies her strength.'--Bethmont. + + +Dinner was hardly a sociable meal at the vicarage. Olive was in her +place looking hot and dusty when Mildred came downstairs, and Chriss +tore in and took her seat in breathless haste, but the boys did not make +their appearance till it was half over. Richard immediately seated +himself by his aunt, and explained the reason of their delay in a low +tone, though he interrupted himself once by a few reproachful words to +Olive on the comfortless appearance of the room. + +'It is Chriss's fault,' returned Olive. 'I have asked her so often not +to bring all that litter in at dinner-time; and, Chriss, you have pulled +down the blind too.' + +Richard darted an angry look at the offender, which was met defiantly, +and then he resumed the subject, though with a perturbed brow. Roy and +he had been over to Musgrave to read classics with the vicar. Roy had +left Sedbergh, and since their trouble their father had been obliged to +resign this duty to another. 'He was bent on preparing me for Oxford +himself, but since his illness he has occupied himself solely with +parish matters. So Mr. Wigram offered to read with us for a few months, +and as the offer was too good a one to be refused, Roy and I walk over +three or four times a week.' + +'Have you settled to take Holy Orders then, Richard?' asked Mildred, a +little surprised. + +'It has been settled for me, I believe,' he returned, a slight hardness +perceptible in his voice; 'at least it is my father's great wish, and I +have not yet made up my mind to disappoint him, though I own there is a +probability of my doing so.' + +'And Roy?' + +Richard smiled grimly. 'You had better ask him; he is looked upon in the +light of a sucking barrister, but he is nothing but a dabbler in art at +present; he has been under a hedge most of the morning, taking the +portrait of a tramp that he chose to consider picturesque. Where is your +Zingara, Roy?' But Roy chose to be deaf, and went on eagerly with his +plans for the afternoon's excursion to Podgill. + +Mildred watched the party set out, Polly and Chriss in their +broad-brimmed hats, and Roy with a sketch-book under his arm. Richard +was going over to Nateby with his father. Olive looked after them +longingly. + +'My dear, are you not going too? it will do you good; and I am sure you +have a headache.' + +'Oh, it is nothing,' returned Olive, putting her hair back with her +hands; 'it is so warm this afternoon, and----' + +'And you were up late last night,' continued Mildred in a sympathising +voice. + +'Not later than usual. I often work when the others go to bed; it does +not hurt me,' she finished hastily, as a dissenting glance from Mildred +met her. 'Indeed, I am quite strong, and able to bear much more.' + +'We must not work the willing horse, then. Come, my dear, put on your +hat; or let me fetch it for you, and we will overtake the Podgill +party.' + +'Oh no,' returned Olive, shrinking back, and colouring nervously. 'You +may go, aunt; but Rex does not want me, or Chriss either; nobody wants +me--and I have so much work to do.' + +'What sort of work, mending?' + +'Yes, all the socks and things. I try to keep them under, but there is a +basketful still. Roy and Chriss are so careless, and wear out their +things; and then you heard Richard say he could not trust me with his.' + +'Richard is particular; many young men are. You must not be so +sensitive, Olive. Well, my dear, I shall be very glad of your help, of +course; but these things will be my business now.' + +Olive contracted her brow in a puzzled way. 'I do not understand.' + +'Not that I have come to be your father's housekeeper, and to save your +young shoulders from being quite weighed down with burdens too heavy for +them? There, come into my room, and let us talk this matter over at our +leisure. Our fingers can be busy at the same time;' and drawing the girl +gently to a low seat by the open window, Mildred placed herself beside +her, and was soon absorbed in the difficulties of a formidable rent. + +'You must be tired too, aunt,' observed Olive presently, with an +admiring glance at the erect figure and nimble fingers. + +'Not too tired to listen if you have anything to tell me,' returned +Mildred with a winning smile. 'I want to hear where all those books were +going this morning, and why Chriss was running on empty-handed.' + +'Chriss does not like carrying things, and I don't mind,' replied Olive. +'We go every morning, and in the afternoon too when we are able, to +study with Mrs. Cranford; she is so nice and clever. She is a +Frenchwoman, and has lived in Germany half her life; only she married an +Englishman.' + +'And you study with her?' + +'Yes, Dr. Heriot recommended her; she was a great friend of his, and +after her husband's death--he was a lawyer here--she was obliged to do +something to maintain herself and her three little girls, so Dr. Heriot +proposed her opening a sort of school; not a regular one, you know, but +just morning and afternoon classes for a few girls.' + +'Have you many companions?' + +'No; only Gertrude Sadler and the two Misses Northcote. Polly is to join +us, I believe.' + +'So her guardian says. I hope, you like our young _protegee_ Olive.' + +'I shall not dislike her, at least, for one reason,' and as Mildred +looked up in surprise, she added more graciously, 'I mean we are all so +fond of Dr. Heriot that we will try to like her for his sake.' + +'Polly deserves to be loved for her own sake,' replied Mildred, somewhat +piqued at Olive's coldness. 'I was wrong to ask you such a question. Of +course you cannot judge of any one in so short a time.' + +'Oh, it is not that,' returned Olive, eager, and yet stammering. 'I am +afraid I am slow to like people always, and Polly seems so bright and +clever, that I am sure never to get on with her.' + +'My dear Olive, you must not allow yourself to form such morbid ideas. +Polly is very original, and will charm you into liking her, before many +days are over; even our fastidious Richard shows signs of relenting.' + +'Oh, but he will never care for her as Roy seems to do already. Cardie +cares for so few people; you don't half know how particular he is, and +how soon he is offended; nothing but perfection will ever please him,' +she finished with a sigh. + +'We must not be too hard in our estimate of other people. I am half +inclined to find fault with Richard myself in this respect; he does not +make sufficient allowance for a very young housekeeper,' laying her hand +softly on Olive's dark hair; and as the girl looked up at her quickly, +surprised by the caressing action, Mildred noticed, for the first time, +the bright intelligence of the brown eyes. + +'Oh, you must not say that,' she returned, colouring painfully. 'Cardie +is very good, and helps me as much as he can; but you see he was so used +to seeing mamma do everything so beautifully.' + +'It is not worse for Richard than for the others.' + +'Oh yes, it is; she made so much of him, and they were always together. +Roy feels it dreadfully; but he is light-hearted, and forgets it at +times. I don't think Cardie ever does.' + +'How do you know; does he tell you so?' asked Mildred, with kindly +scrutiny. + +Olive shook her head mournfully. 'No, he never talks to me, at least in +that way; but I know it all the same; one can tell it by his silence and +pained look. It makes him irritable too. Roy has terrible breaks-down +sometimes, and so has Chriss; but no one knows what Cardie suffers.' + +Mildred dropped her work, and regarded the young speaker attentively. +There was womanly thoughtfulness, and an underlying tenderness in the +words of this girl of fifteen; under the timid reserve there evidently +beat a warm, affectionate heart. For a moment Mildred scanned the +awkward hunching of the shoulders, the slovenly dress and hair, and the +plain, cloudy face, so slow to beam into anything like a smile; Olive's +normal expression seemed a heavy, anxious look, that furrowed her brow +with unnatural lines, and made her appear years older than her actual +age; the want of elasticity and the somewhat slouching gait confirming +this impression. + +'If she were not so plain; if she would only dress and hold herself like +other people, and be a little less awkward,' sighed Mildred. 'No wonder +Richard's fastidiousness is so often offended; but his continual +fault-finding makes her worse. She is too humble-minded to defend +herself, and too generous to resent his interference. If I do not +mistake, this girl has a fine nature, though it is one that is difficult +to understand; but to think of this being Betha's daughter!' and a +vision rose before Mildred of the slight, graceful figure and active +movements of the bright young house-mother, so strangely contrasted with +Olive's clumsy gestures. + +The silence was unbroken for a little time, and then Olive raised her +head. 'I think I must go down now, the others will be coming in. It has +been a nice quiet time, and has done my head good; but,' a little +plaintively, 'I am afraid I have not done much work.' + +Mildred laughed. 'Why not? you have not looked out of the window half so +often as I have. I suppose you are too used to all that purple +loveliness; your eyes have not played truant once.' + +'Yes, it is very beautiful; but one seems to have no time now to enjoy,' +sighed the poor drudge. 'You work so fast, aunt; your fingers fly. I +shall always be awkward at my needle; mamma said so.' + +'It is a pity, of course; but perhaps your talents lie in another +direction,' returned her aunt, gravely. 'You must not lose heart, Olive. +It is possible to acquire ordinary skill by persevering effort.' + +'If one had leisure to learn--I mean to take pains. But look, how little +I have done all this afternoon.' Olive looked so earnest and lugubrious +that Mildred bit her lip to keep in the amused smile. + +'My dear,' she returned quaintly, 'there is a sin not mentioned in the +Decalogue, but which is a very common one among women, nevertheless, +"the lust of finishing." We ought to love work for the work's sake, and +leave results more than we do. Over-hurry and too great anxiety for +completion has a great deal to do with the overwrought nerves of which +people complain nowadays. "In quietness and in confidence shall be your +strength."' + +Olive looked up with something like tears in her eyes. 'Oh, aunt, how +beautiful. I never thought of that.' + +'Did you not? I will illuminate the text for you and hang it in your +room. So much depends on the quietness we bring to our work; without +being exactly miserly with our eyes and hands, as you have been this +afternoon, one can do so much with a little wise planning of our time, +always taking care not to resent interference by others. You will think +I deal in proverbial philosophy, if I give you another maxim, "Man's +importunity is God's opportunity."' + +'I will always try to remember that when Chriss interrupts me, as she +does continually,' answered Olive, thoughtfully. 'People say there are +no such things as conflicting duties, but I have often such hard work to +decide--which is the right thing to be done.' + +'I will give you an infallible guide then: choose that which seems +hardest, or most disagreeable; consciences are slippery things; they +always give us such good reasons for pleasing ourselves.' + +'I don't think that would answer with me,' returned Olive doubtfully. +'There are so many things I do not like, the disagreeable duties quite +fill one's day. I like hearing you talk very much, aunt. But there is +Cardie's voice, and he will be disappointed not to find the tea ready +when he comes in from church.' + +'Then I will not detain you another moment; but you must promise me one +thing.' + +'What is that?' + +'There must be no German book behind the urn to-night. Better ill-learnt +verbs than jarring harmony, and a trifle that vexes the soul of another +ceases to be a trifle. There, run along, my child.' + +Mildred had seen very little of her brother that day, and after tea she +accompanied him for a quiet stroll in the churchyard. There was much +that she had to hear and tell. Arnold would fain know the particulars of +his mother's last hours from her lips, while she on her side yearned for +a fuller participation in her brother's sorrow, and to gather up the +treasured recollections of the sister she had loved so well. + +The quiet evening hour--the scene--the place--fitted well with such +converse. Arnold was less reticent to-night, and though his smothered +tones of pain at times bore overwhelming testimony to the agony that had +shattered his very soul, his expressions of resignation, and the absence +of anything like bitterness in the complaint that he had lost his youth, +the best and brightest part of himself, drew his sister's heart to him +in endearing reverence. + +'I was dumb, and opened not my mouth, because Thou didst it,' seemed to +be the unspoken language of his thoughts, and every word breathed the +same mournful submission to what was felt to be the chastisement of +love. + +'Dear, beautiful Betha; but she was ready to go, Arnold?' + +'None so ready as she--God forbid it were otherwise--but I do not know. +I sometimes think the darling would have been glad to stay a little +longer with me. Hers was the nature that saw the sunny side of life. +Heriot could never make her share in his dark views of earthly troubles. +If the cloud came she was always looking for the silver lining.' + +'It is sad to think how rare these natures are,' replied Mildred. 'What +a contrast to our mother's sickbed!' + +'Ah, then we had to battle with the morbidity of hypochondria, the +sickness of the body aggravated by the diseased action of the mind, the +thickening of shadows that never existed except in one weary brain. My +darling never lost her happy smile except when she saw my grief. I think +that troubled the still waters of her soul. In thinking of their end, +Mildred, one is reminded of Bunyan's glorious allegory--glorious, +inspired, I should rather say. That part where the pilgrims make ready +for their passage across the river. My darling Betha entered the river +with the sweet bravery of Christiana, while, according to your account, +my poor mother's sufferings only ceased with her breath.' + +'Yet she was praying for the end to come, Arnold.' + +'Yes, but the grasshopper was ever a burden to her. Do you remember what +stout old Bunyan says? "The last words of Mr. Despondency were: Farewell +night! Welcome day! His daughter (Much-afraid) went through the river +singing, but no one could understand what she said."' + +'As no one could tell the meaning of the sweet solemn smile that crossed +our mother's face at the last; she had no fears then, Arnold.' + +'Just so. If she could have spoken she would have doubtless told you +that such was the case, or used such words as Mr. Despondency leaves as +his dying legacy. Do you remember them, Mildred? They are so true of +many sick souls,' and he quoted in a low sweet voice, '"My will and my +daughter's is (that tender, loving Much-afraid, Milly), that our +desponds and slavish fears be by no man ever received from the day of +our departure for ever, for I know after my death they will offer +themselves to others. For, to be plain with you, they are ghosts which +we entertained when we first began to be pilgrims, and could never throw +them off after; and they will walk about and seek entertainment of the +pilgrims; but, for our sakes, shut the doors upon them."' + +'It is a large subject, Arnold, and a very painful one.' + +'It is one on which you should talk to Heriot; he has a fine +benevolence, and is very tender in his dealings with these +self-tormentors. He is always fighting the shadows, as he calls them.' + +'I have often wondered why women are so much more morbid than men.' + +'Their lives are more to blame than they; want of vigour and action, a +much-to-be-deplored habit of incessant introspection and a too nice +balancing of conscientious scruples, a lack of large-mindedness, and +freedom of principle. All these things lie at the root of the mischief. +As John Heriot has it, "The thinking machine is too finely polished."' + +'I fancy Olive is slightly bitten with the complaint,' observed Mildred, +wishing to turn her brother's thought to more practical matters. + +'Indeed! her mother never told me so. She once said Olive was a noble +creature in a chrysalis state, and that she had a mind beyond the +generality of girls, but she generally only laughed at her for a +bookworm, and blamed her for want of order. I don't profess to +understand my children,' he continued mournfully; 'their mother was +everything to them. Richard often puzzles me, and Olive still more. Roy +is the most transparent, and Christine is a mere child. It has often +struck me lately that the girls are in sad need of training. Betha was +over-lenient with them, and Richard is too hard at times.' + +'They are at an angular age,' returned his sister, smiling. 'Olive seems +docile, and much may be made of her. I suppose you wish me to enter on +my new duties at once, Arnold?' + +'The sooner the better, but I hope you do not expect me to define them?' + +'Can a mother's duties be defined?' she asked, very gravely. + +'Sweetly said, Milly. I shall not fear to trust my girls to you after +that. Ah, there comes Master Richard to tell us the dews are falling.' + +Richard gave Mildred a reproachful look as he hastened to his father's +side. + +'You have let him talk too much; he will have no sleep to-night, Aunt +Milly. You have been out here more than two hours, and supper is +waiting.' + +'So late, Cardie? Well, well; it is something to find time can pass +otherwise than slowly now. You must not find fault with your aunt; she +is a good creature, and her talk has refreshed me. I hope, Milly, you +and my boy mean to be great friends.' + +'Do you doubt it, sir?' asked Richard gravely. + +'I don't doubt your good heart, Cardie, though your aunt may not always +understand your manner,' answered his father gently. 'Youth is sometimes +narrow-minded and intolerant, Milly. One graduates in the school of +charity later in life.' + +'I understand your reproof, sir. I am aware you consider me often +overbearing and dogmatical, but in my opinion petty worries would try +the temper of a saint.' + +'Pin-pricks often repeated would be as bad as a dagger-thrust, and not +nearly so dignified. Never mind, Cardie, many people find toleration a +very difficult duty.' + +'I could never tolerate evils of our own making, and what is more, I +should never consider it my duty to do so. I do not know that you would +have to complain of my endurance in greater matters.' + +'Possibly not, Cardie. This boy of mine, Milly,' pressing the strong +young arm on which he leant, 'is always leading some crusade or other. +He ought to have lived centuries ago, and belted on his sword as a Red +Cross Knight. He would have brought us home one of the dragon's heads at +last.' + +'You are jesting,' returned Richard, with a forced smile. + +'A poor jest, Cardie, then; only clothing the truth in allegory. After +all, you are right, my boy, and I am somewhat weary; help me to my +study. I will not join the others to-night.' + +Richard's face so plainly expressed 'I told you so,' that Mildred felt a +warm flush come to her face, as though she had been discovered in a +fault. It added to her annoyance also to find on inquiry that Olive had +been shut up in her room all the evening, 'over Roy's socks,' as Chrissy +explained, while the others had been wandering over the fells at their +own sweet will. + +'This will never do; you will be quite ill, Olive,' exclaimed Mildred, +impatiently; but as Richard entered that moment, to fetch some wine for +his father, she forbore to say any more, only entering a mental resolve +to kidnap the offending basket and lock it up safely from Olive's +scrupulous fingers. + +'I am coming into your room to have a talk,' whispered Polly when supper +was over; 'I have hardly seen you all day. How I do miss not having my +dear Aunt Milly to myself.' + +'I don't believe you have missed me at all, Polly,' returned Mildred, +stroking the short hair, and looking with a sort of relief into the +bright piquant face, for her heart was heavy with many sad thoughts. + +'Roy and I have been talking about you, though; he has found out you +have a pretty hand, and so you have.' + +'Silly children.' + +'He says you are awfully jolly. That is the schoolboy jargon he talks; +but he means it too; and even Chriss says you are not so bad, though she +owned she dreaded your coming.' + +Mildred winced at this piece of unpalatable intelligence, but she only +replied quietly, 'Chrissy was afraid I should prove strict, I suppose.' + +'Oh, don't let us talk of Chriss,' interrupted Polly, eagerly; 'she is +intolerable. I want to tell you about Roy. Do you know, Aunt Milly, he +wants to be an artist.' + +'Richard hinted as much at dinner time.' + +'Oh, Richard only laughs at him, and thinks it is all nonsense; but I +have lived among artists all my life,' continued Polly, drawing herself +up, 'and I am quite sure Roy is in earnest. We were talking about it all +the afternoon, while Chrissy was hunting for bird-nests. He told me all +his plans, and I have promised to help him.' + +'It appears his father intends him to be a barrister.' + +'Yes; some old uncle left him a few hundred pounds, and Mr. Lambert +wished him to go to the University, and, as he had no vocation for the +Church, to study for the bar. Roy told me all about it; he cannot bear +disappointing his father, but he is quite sure that he will make nothing +but an artist.' + +'Many boys have these fancies. You ought not to encourage him in it +against his father's wish.' + +'Roy is seventeen, Aunt Milly; as he says, he is no child, and he draws +such beautiful pictures. I have told him all about Dad Fabian, and he +wants to have him here, and ask his advice about things. Dad could look +after Roy when he goes to London. Roy and I have arranged everything.' + +'My dear Polly,' began Mildred, in a reproving tone; but her +remonstrance was cut short, for at that instant loud sobs were +distinctly audible from the farthest room, where the girls slept. + +Mildred rose at once, and softly opened the door; at the same moment +there was a quick step on the stairs, and Richard's low, admonishing +voice reached her ear; but as the loud sobbing sounds still continued, +Mildred followed him in unperceived. + +'Hush, Chrissy. What is all this about? You are disturbing my father; +but, as usual, you only think of yourself.' + +'Please don't speak to her like that, Cardie,' pleaded Olive. 'She is +not naughty; she has only woke up in a fright; she has been dreaming, I +think.' + +'Dreaming!--I should think so, with that light full in her eyes, those +sickening German books as usual,' with a glance of disgust at the little +round table, strewn with books and work, from which Olive had evidently +that moment risen. 'There, hush, Chrissy, like a good girl, and don't +let us have any more of this noise.' + +'No, I can't. Oh, Cardie, I want mamma--I want mamma!' cried poor +Chrissy, rolling on her pillow in childish abandonment of sorrow, but +making heroic efforts to stifle her sobs. 'Oh, mamma--mamma--mamma!' + +'Hush!--lie silent. Do you think you are the only one who wants her?' +returned Richard, sternly; but the hand that held the bedpost shook +visibly, and he turned very pale as he spoke. 'We must bear what we have +to bear, Chrissy.' + +'But I won't bear it,' returned the spoilt child. 'I can't bear it, +Cardie; you are all so unkind to me. I want to kiss her, and put my arms +round her, as I dreamt I was doing. I don't love God for taking her +away, when she didn't want to go; I know she didn't.' + +'Oh, hush, Chriss--don't be wicked!' gasped out Olive, with the tears in +her eyes; but, as though the child's words had stung him beyond +endurance, Richard turned on her angrily. + +'What is the good of reasoning with a child in this state? can't you +find something better to say? You are of no use at all, Olive. I don't +believe you feel the trouble as much as we do.' + +'Yes, she does. You must not speak so to your sister, Richard. Hush, my +dear--hush;' and Mildred stooped with sorrowful motherly face over the +pillow, where Chrissy, now really hysterical, was stuffing a portion of +the sheet in her mouth to resist an almost frantic desire to scream. 'Go +to my room, Olive, and you will find a little bottle of sal-volatile on +my table. The child has been over-tired. I noticed she looked pale at +supper.' And as Olive brought it to her with shaking hand and pallid +face, Mildred quietly measured the drops, and, beckoning to Richard to +assist her, administered the stimulating draught to the exhausted child. +Chrissy tried to push it away, but Mildred's firm, 'You must drink it, +my dear,' overcame her resistance, though her painful choking made +swallowing difficult. + +'Now we will try some nice fresh water to this hot face and these +feverish hands,' continued Mildred, in a brisk, cheerful tone; and +Chrissy ceased her miserable sobbing in astonishment at the novel +treatment. Every one but Dr. Heriot had scolded her for these fits, and +in consequence she had used an unwholesome degree of restraint for a +child: an unusually severe breakdown had been the result. + +'Give me a brush, Olive, to get rid of some of this tangle. I think we +look a little more comfortable now, Richard. Let me turn your pillow, +dear--there, now;' and Mildred tenderly rested the child's heavy head +against her shoulder, stroking the rough yellowish mane very softly. +Chrissy's sobs were perceptibly lessening now, though she still gasped +out 'mamma' at intervals. + +'She is better now,' whispered Mildred, who saw Richard still near them. +'Had you not better go downstairs, or your father will wonder?' + +'Yes, I will go,' he returned; yet he still lingered, as though some +visitings of compunction for his hardness troubled him. 'Good-night, +Chrissy;' but Chrissy, whose cheek rested comfortably against her aunt's +shoulder, took no notice. Possibly want of sympathy had estranged the +little sore heart. + +'Kiss your brother, my dear, and bid him good-night. All this has given +him pain.' And as Chrissy still hesitated, Richard, with more feeling +than he had hitherto shown, bent over them, and kissed them both, and +then paused by the little round table. + +'I am very sorry I said that, Livy.' + +'There was no harm in saying it, if you thought it, Cardie. I am only +grieved at that.' + +'I ought not to have said it, all the same; but it is enough to drive +one frantic to see how different everything is.' Then, in a whisper, and +looking at Mildred, 'Aunt Milly has given us all a lesson; me, as well +as you. You must try to be like her, Livy.' + +'I will try;' but the tone was hopeless. + +'You must begin by plucking up a little spirit, then. Well, good-night.' + +'Good-night, Cardie,' was the listless answer, as she suffered him to +kiss her cheek. 'It was only Olive's ordinary want of demonstration,' +Richard thought, as he turned away, a little relieved by his voluntary +confession; 'only one of her cold, tiresome ways.' + +Only one of her ways! + +Long after Chrissy had fallen into a refreshing sleep, and Mildred had +crept softly away to sleepy, wondering Polly, Olive sat at the little +round table with her face buried in her arms, both hid in the +loosely-dropping hair. + +'I could have borne him to have said anything else but this,' she +moaned. 'Not feel as they do, not miss her as much, my dear, beautiful +mother, who never scolded me, who believed in me always, even when I +disappointed her most;--oh, Cardie, Cardie, how could you have found it +in your heart to say that!' + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +CAIN AND ABEL + + 'There was a little stubborn dame + Whom no authority could tame; + Restive by long indulgence grown, + No will she minded but her own.'--Wilkie. + + +Chrissy was sufficiently unwell the next day to make her aunt's petting +a wholesome remedy. In moments of languor and depression even a +whimsical and erratic nature will submit to a winning power of +gentleness, and Chriss's flighty little soul was no exception to the +rule: the petting, being a novelty, pleased and amused her, while it +evidently astonished the others. Olive was too timid and awkward, and +Richard too quietly matter-of-fact, to deal largely in caresses, while +Roy's demonstrations somehow never included Contradiction Chriss. + +Chriss unfortunately belonged to the awkward squad, whose manoeuvres +were generally held to interfere with every one else. People gave her a +wide berth; she trod on their moral corns and offended their tenderest +prejudices; she was growing up thin-lipped and sharp-tongued, and there +was a spice of venom in her words that was not altogether childlike. + +'My poor little girl,' thought Mildred, as she sat beside her working; +'it is very evident that the weeds are growing up fast for lack of +attention. Some flowers will only grow in the sunshine; no child's +nature, however sweet, will thrive in an atmosphere of misunderstanding +and constant fault-finding.' + +Chrissy liked lying in that cool room, arranging Aunt Milly's work-box, +or watching her long white fingers as they moved so swiftly. Without +wearying the overtasked child, Mildred kept up a strain of pleasant +conversation that stimulated curiosity and raised interest. She had even +leisure and self-denial enough to lay aside a half-crossed darn to read +a story when Chriss's nerves seemed jarring into fretfulness again, and +was rather pleased than otherwise when, at a critical moment, long-drawn +breaths warned her that she had fallen into a sound sleep. + +Mildred sat and pondered over a hundred new plans, while tired Chriss +lay with the sweet air blowing on her and the bees humming underneath +the window. Now and then she stole a glance at the little figure, +recumbent under the heartsease quilt. 'She would be almost pretty if +those sharp lines were softened and that tawny tangle of hair arranged +properly; she has nice long eyelashes and a tolerably fair skin, though +it would be the better for soap and water,' thought motherly Mildred, +with the laudable anxiety of one determined to make the best of +everything, though a secret feeling still troubled her that Chrissy +would be the least attractive to her of the four. + +Chrissy's sleep lengthened into hours; that kindly foster-nurse Nature +often taking restorative remedies of forcible narcotics into her own +hands. She woke hungry and talkative, and after partaking of the +tempting meal her aunt had provided, submitted with tolerable docility +when Mildred announced her intention of making war with the tangles. + +'It hurts dreadfully. I often wish I were bald--don't you, Aunt Milly?' +asked Chrissy, wincing in spite of her bravery. + +'In that case you will not mind if I thin some of this shagginess,' +laughed Mildred, at the same time arming herself with a formidable pair +of shears. 'I wonder you are not afraid of Absalom's fate when you go +bird-nesting.' + +'I wish you would cut it all off, like Polly's,' pleaded Chriss, her +eyes sparkling at the notion. 'It makes my head so hot, and it is such a +trouble. It would be worth anything to see Cardie's face when I go +downstairs, looking like a clipped sheep; he would not speak to me for a +week. Do please, Aunt Milly.' + +'My dear, do you think that such a desirable result?' + +'What, making Cardie angry? I like to do it of all things. He never gets +into a rage like Roy--when you have worked him up properly--but his +mouth closes as though his lips were iron, as though it would never open +again; and when he does speak, which is not for a very long time, his +words seem to clip as sharp as your scissors--"Christine, I am ashamed +of you!"' + +'Those were the very words I wanted to use myself.' + +'What?' and Chrissy screwed herself round in astonishment to look in her +aunt's grave face. 'I am quite serious, I assure you, Aunt Milly. I +sha'n't mind if I look like a singed pony, or a convict; Rex is sure to +call me both. Shall I fetch a pudding-basin and have it done--as Mrs. +Stokes always does little Jem's?' + +'Hush, Chrissy; this is pure childish nonsense. There! I've trimmed the +refractory locks: you look a tidy little girl now. You have really very +pretty hair, if you would only keep it in order,' continued Mildred, +trying artfully to rouse a spark of womanly vanity; but Chriss only +pouted. + +'I would rather be like the singed pony.' + +'Silly child!' + +'Rex was in quite a temper when Polly said she hoped hers would never +grow again. You have spoiled such a capital piece of revenge, Aunt +Milly; I have almost a mind to do it myself.' But Chriss's +mischief-loving nature--always a dangerous one--was quelled for the +moment by the look of quiet contempt with which Mildred took the +scissors from her hand. + +'I did not expect to find you such a baby at thirteen, Chriss.' + +Chriss blazed up in a moment, with a great deal of spluttering and +incoherence. 'Baby! I a baby! No one shall call me that again!' tossing +her head and elevating her chin in childlike disdain. + +'Quite right; I am glad you have formed such a wise determination, it +would have been babyish, Chriss,' wilfully misunderstanding her. 'None +but very wicked and spiteful babies would ever scheme to put another in +a rage. Do you know,' continued Mildred cheerfully, as she took up her +work, apparently regardless that Chrissy was eyeing her with the same +withering wrath, 'I always had a notion that Cain must have tried to put +Abel in a passion, and failed, before he killed him!' + +Chrissy recoiled a little. + +'Perhaps he wanted him to fight, as men and boys do now, you know, only +Abel's exceeding gentleness could not degenerate into such strife. To me +there is something diabolical in the idea of trying to make any one +angry. Certainly the weapons with which we do it are forged for us, +red-hot, and put into our hands by the evil one himself.' + +'Aunt Milly!' Chrissy's head was quiescent now, and her chin in its +normal position: the transition from anger to solemnity bewildered her. +Mildred went on in the same quiet tone. + +'You cannot love Cardie very much, when you are trying to make him +angry, can you, Chrissy?' + +'No--o--at least, I suppose not,' stammered Chriss, who had no want of +truth among her other faults. + +'Well, what is the opposite of loving?' + +'Hating. Oh, Aunt Milly, you can't think so badly of me as that! I don't +hate Cardie.' + +'God forbid, my child! You know what the Bible says--'He who hateth his +brother is a murderer.' But, Chrissy, does it ever strike you that Cain +could not always have been quite bad? He had a childhood too.' + +'I never thought of him but as quite grown up,' returned Chriss, with a +touch of stubbornness, arising from an uneasy and awakened conscience. +'How fond you are of Cain, Aunt Milly.' + +'He is my example, my warning beacon, you see. He was the first-begotten +of Envy, that eldest-born of Hell--a terrible incarnation of unresisted +human passion. Had he first learned to restrain the beginnings of evil, +it would not have overwhelmed him so completely. Possibly in their +young, hard-working life he would have loved to be able to make Abel +angry.' + +'Aunt Milly!' Chrissy was shedding a few indignant tears now. + +'Well, my dear?' + +'It is too bad. You have no right to compare me with Cain,' sobbing +vengefully. + +'Did I do so? Nay, Chriss, I think you are mistaken.' + +'First to be called a baby, and then a murderer!' + +'Hush! hush!' + +'I know I am wicked to try and make them angry, but they tease me so; +they call me Contradiction, and the Barker, and Pugilist Pug, and lots +of horrid names, and it was only like playing at war to get one's +revenge.' + +'Choose some fairer play, my little Chriss.' + +'It is such miserable work trying to be proper and good; I don't think +I've got the face for it either,' went on Chriss, a subtle spirit of fun +drying up her tears again, as she examined her features curiously in +Mildred's glass. 'I don't look as though I could be made good, do I, +Aunt Milly'--frowning fiercely at herself--'not like a young Christian?' + +'More like a long-haired kitten,' returned Mildred, quaintly. + +The epithet charmed Chriss into instant good-humour; for a moment she +looked half inclined to hug Mildred, but the effort was too great for +her shyness, so she contented herself with a look of appreciation. 'You +can say funny things then--how nice! I thought you were so dreadfully +solemn--worse than Cardie. Cardie could not say a funny thing to save +his life, except when he is angry, and then, oh! he is droll,' finished +incorrigible Chriss, as she followed her aunt downstairs, skipping three +steps at a time. + +Richard met them in the hall, and eyed the pseudo-invalid a little +dubiously. + +'So you are better, eh, Chriss? That's right. I thought there was not +much that ailed you after all,' in a tone rather amiable than unfeeling. + +'Not much to you, you mean. Perhaps you don't mind having a log in your +head,' began Chrissy, indignantly, but seeing visionary Cains in her +aunt's glance, she checked herself. 'If I am better it is all thanks to +Aunt Milly's nursing, but she spoilt everything at the last.' + +'Why?' asked Richard, curiously, detecting a lurking smile at the corner +of Mildred's mouth. + +'Why, I had concocted a nice little plan for riling you--putting you in +a towering passion, you know--by coming down looking like a singed pony, +or like Polly, in fact; but she would not let me, took the scissors +away, like the good aunt in a story-book.' + +'What nonsense is she talking, Aunt Milly? She looks very nice, though +quite different to Chrissy somehow.' + +'We have only shorn a little of the superabundant fleece,' returned +Mildred, wondering why she felt so anxious for Richard's approval, and +laughing at herself for being so. + +'But I wanted it to be clipped just so, half an inch long, like + +Jemmy Stokes, and offered to fetch Nan's best pudding-basin for the +purpose; but Aunt Milly would not hear of it. She said such dreadful +things, Cardie!' And as Richard looked at her, with puzzled benevolence +in his eyes, she raised herself on tiptoe and whispered into his ear, +'She said--at least she almost implied, but it is all the same, +Cardie--that if I did I should go on from bad to worse, and should +probably end by murdering you, as Cain did Abel.' + +The following day was Sunday, and Mildred, who for her own reasons had +not yet actively assumed the reins of government, had full leisure and +opportunity for studying the family ways at the vicarage. In one sense +it was certainly not a day of rest, for, with the exception of Roy and +Chrissy, the young people seemed more fully engrossed than on any other +day. + +Richard and Olive were both at the early service, and Mildred, who, as +usual, waited for her brother in the porch, was distressed to find Olive +still with her hat on, snatching a few mouthfuls of food at the +breakfast-table while she sorted a packet of reward cards. + +'My dear Olive, this is very wrong; you must sit down and make a proper +meal before going to the Sunday School.' + +'Indeed I have not a moment,' returned Olive, hurriedly, without looking +up. 'My class will be waiting for me. I have to go down to old Mrs. +Stevens about her grandchildren. I had no time last night. Richard +always makes the breakfast on Sunday morning.' + +'Yes,' returned Richard, in his most repressive tone, as he poured out a +cup of coffee and carried it round to Olive, and then cut her another +piece of bread and butter. 'I believe Livy would like to dispense with +her meals altogether or take them standing. I tell her she is +comfortless by nature. She would go without breakfast often if I did not +make a fuss about it. There you must stay till you have eaten that.' But +Mildred noticed, though his voice was decidedly cross, he had cut the +bread _a la tartine_ for his sister's greater convenience. + +Morning service was followed by the early dinner. Mr. Lambert, who was +without a curate, the last having left him from ill-health, was obliged +to accept such temporary assistance as he could procure from the +neighbouring parishes. To-day Mr. Heath, of Brough, had volunteered his +services, and accompanied the party back to the vicarage. Mildred, who +had hoped to hear her brother preach, was somewhat disappointed. She +thought Mr. Heath and his sermon very commonplace and uninteresting. +Ideas seemed wanting in both. The conversation during dinner turned +wholly on parish matters, and the heinous misdemeanours of two or three +ratepayers who had made a commotion at the last vestry meeting. The only +sentence that seemed worthy of attention was at the close of the meal, +just as the bell was ringing for the public catechising. + +'Where is Heriot? I have not set eyes on him yet!' + +Richard, who was just following Olive out of the room, paused with his +hand on the door to answer. + +'He has come back from Penrith. I met him by the Brewery after Church, +coming over from Hartly. He promised if he had time to look in after +service as usual.' + +Polly's eyes sparkled, and she almost danced up to Richard, 'Heriot! Is +that my Dr. Heriot?' with a decided stress on the possessive pronoun. + +'Oh, that's Heriot's ward, is it, Lambert? Humph, rather a queer affair, +isn't it, leaving that child to him? Heriot's a comparatively young man, +hardly five-and-thirty I should say,' and Mr. Heath's rosy face grew +preternaturally solemn. + +'Polly is our charge now,' returned Mr. Lambert, with one of his kind, +sad smiles, stretching out a hand to the girl. 'Mildred has promised to +look after her; and she will be Olive's and Chrissy's companion. You are +one of my little girls now, are you not, Polly?' Polly shook her head, +her face had lengthened a little over Mr. Lambert's words. + +'I like you, of course, and I like to be here. Aunt Milly is so nice, +and so is Roy; but I can only belong to my guardian.' + +'Hoity-toity, there will be some trouble here, Lambert. You must put +Heriot on his guard,' and Mr. Heath burst out laughing; Polly regarding +him the while with an air of offended dignity. + +'Did I say anything to make him laugh? there is nothing laughable in +speaking the truth. Papa gave me to my guardian, and of course that +means I belong to him.' + +'Never mind, Polly, let Mr. Heath laugh if he likes. We know how to +value such a faithful little friend--do we not, Mildred?'--and patting +her head gently, he bade her fetch him a book he had left on his study +table, and to Mildred's relief the conversation dropped, and Mr. Heath +shortly afterwards took his departure. + +Later on in the afternoon Mildred set out for a quiet walk to the +cemetery. Polly and Chriss were sunning themselves on the terrace, while +Roy was stretched in sleepy enjoyment on the grass at their feet, with +his straw hat pulled over his face. Richard had walked up to Kirkleatham +on business for his father. No one knew exactly what had become of +Olive. + +'She will turn up at tea-time, she always does,' suggested Roy, in a +tone of dreamy indifference. 'Go on, Polly, you have a sweet little +voice for reading as well as singing. We are reading Milton, Aunt Milly, +only Polly sometimes stops to spell the long words, which somehow breaks +the Miltonic wave of harmony. Can't you fancy I am Adam, and you are +Eve, Polly, and this is a little bit of Paradise--just that delicious +dip of green, with the trees and the water; and the milky mother of the +herd coming down to the river to drink; and the rich golden streak of +light behind Mallerstang? If it were not Sunday now,' and Roy's fingers +grasped an imaginary brush. + +'Roy and Polly seem to live in a Paradise of their own,' thought +Mildred, as she passed through the quiet streets. 'They have only known +each other for two days, and yet they are always together and share a +community of interest--they are both such bright, clever, affectionate +creatures. I wonder where Olive is, and whether she even knows what a +real idle hour of _dolce far niente_ means. That girl must be taught +positively how to enjoy;' and Mildred pushed the heavy swinging cemetery +gates with a sigh, as she thought how joyless and weary seemed Olive's +life compared to that of the bright happy creature they had laid there. +Betha's nature was of the heartsease type; it seemed strange that the +mother had transmitted none of her sweet sunshiny happiness to her young +daughter; but here Mildred paused in her wonderings with a sudden start. +She was not alone as she supposed. She had reached a shady corner behind +the chapel, where there was a little plot of grass and an acacia tree; +and against the marble cross under which Betha Lambert's name was +written there sat, or rather leant--for the attitude was forlorn even in +its restfulness--a drooping, black figure easily recognised as Olive. + +'This is where she comes on Sunday afternoons; she keeps it a secret +from the others; none of them have discovered it,' thought Mildred, +grieved at having disturbed the girl's sacred privacy, and she was +quietly retracing her steps, when Olive suddenly raised her head from +the book she was reading. As their eyes met, there was a start and a +sudden rush of sensitive colour to the girl's face. + +'I did not know; I am so sorry to disturb you, my love,' began Mildred, +apologetically. + +'It does not disturb me--at least, not much,' was the truthful answer. +'I don't like the others to know I come here--because--oh, I have +reasons--but this is your first visit, Aunt Milly,' divining Mildred's +sympathy by some unerring instinct. + +'Yes--may I stay for a moment? thank you, my dear,' as Olive willingly +made room for her. 'How beautiful and simple; just the words she loved,' +and Mildred read the inscription and chosen text--'His banner over me is +love.' + +'Do you like it? Mamma chose it herself; she said it was so true of her +life.' + +'Happy Betha!' and in a lower voice, 'Happy Olive!' + +'Why, Aunt Milly?' + +'To have had such a mother, though it be only to lose her. Think of the +dear bright smiles with which she will welcome you all home.' + +Olive's eyes glistened, but she made no answer. Mildred was struck with +the quiet repose of her manner; the anxious careworn look had +disappeared for the time, and the soft intelligence of her face bore the +stamp of some lofty thought. + +'Do you always come here, Olive? At this time I mean.' + +'Yes, always--I have never missed once; it seems to rest me for the +week. Just at first, perhaps, it made me sad, but now it is different.' + +'How do you mean, my dear?' + +'I don't know that I can put it exactly in words,' she returned, +troubled by a want of definite expression. 'At first it used to make me +cry, and wish I were dead, but now I never feel so like living as when I +am here.' + +'Try to make me understand. I don't think you will find me +unsympathising,' in Mildred's tenderest tones. + +'You are never that, Aunt Milly. I find myself telling you things +already. Don't you see, I can come and pour out all my trouble to her, +just as I used to? and sometimes I fancy she answers me, not in +speaking, you know, but in the thoughts that come as I sit here.' + +'That is a beautiful fancy, Olive.' + +'Others might laugh at it--Cardie would, I know, but it is impossible to +believe mamma can help loving us wherever she is; and she always liked +us to come and tell her everything, when we were naughty, or if we had +anything nice happening to us.' + +'Yes, dear, I quite understand. But you were reading.' + +'That was mamma's favourite book. I generally read a few pages before I +go. One seems to understand it all so much better in this quiet place, +with the sun shining, and all those graves round. One's little troubles +seem so small and paltry by comparison.' + +Mildred did not answer. She took the book out of Olive's hand--it was +_Thomas a Kempis_--and a red pencil line had marked the following +passage:-- + + 'Thou shalt not long toil here, nor always be oppressed with griefs. + 'Wait a little while, and thou shalt see a speedy end of thy evils. + 'There will come a time when all labour and trouble shall cease, + 'Poor and brief is all that passeth away with time. + 'Do [in earnest] what thou doest; labour faithfully in My vineyard: + I will be thy recompense. + 'Write, read, chant, mourn, keep silence, pray, endure crosses + manfully; life everlasting is worth all these conflicts, and + greater than these. + 'Peace shall come in one day, which is known unto the Lord; and it + shall not be day nor night (that is at this present time), but + unceasing light, infinite brightness, stedfast peace, and secure + rest.' + +'Don't you like it?' whispered Olive, timidly; but Mildred still made no +answer. How she had wronged this girl! Under the ungainly form lay this +beautiful soul-coinage, fresh from God's mint, with His stamp of +innocence and divinity fresh on it, to be marred by a world's use or +abuse. + +Mildred's clear instinct had already detected unusual intelligence under +the clumsiness and awkward ways that were provocative of perpetual +censure in the family circle. The timidity that seemed to others a cloak +for mere coldness had not deceived her. But she was not prepared for +this faith that defied dead matter, and clung about the spirit footsteps +of the mother, bearing in the silence--that baffling silence to smaller +natures--the faint perceptive whispers of deathless love. + +'Olive, you have made me ashamed of my own doubts,' she said at last, +taking the girl's hand and looking on the unlovely face with feelings +akin to reverence. 'I see now, as I never have done before, how a +thorough understanding robs even death of its terror--how "perfect love +casteth out fear."' + +'If one could always feel as one does now,' sighed Olive, raising her +dark eyes with a new yearning in them. 'But the rest and the strength +seem to last for such a little time. Last Sunday,' she continued, sadly, +'I felt almost happy sitting here. Life seemed somehow sweet, after all, +but before evening I was utterly wretched.' + +'By your own fault, or by that of others?' + +'My own, of course. If I were not so provoking in my ways--Cardie, I +mean--the others would not be so hard on me. Thinking makes one absent, +and then mistakes happen.' + +'Yes, I see.' Mildred did not say more. She felt the time was not come +for dealing with the strange idiosyncrasies of a peculiar and difficult +character. She was ignorant as yet what special gifts or graces of +imagination lay under the comprehensive term of 'bookishness,' which had +led her to fear in Olive the typical bluestocking. But she was not wrong +in the supposition that Olive's very goodness bordered on faultiness; +over-conscientiousness, and morbid scrupulosity, producing a sort of +mental fatigue in the onlooker--restfulness being always more highly +prized by us poor mortals than any amount of struggling and perceptible +virtue. + +Mildred was a true diplomatist by nature--most womanly women are. It was +from no want of sympathy, but an exercise of real judgment, that she now +quietly concluded the conversation by the suggestion that they should go +home. + +Mildred had the satisfaction of hearing her brother preach that evening, +and, though some of the old fire and vigour were wanting, and there were +at times the languid utterances of failing strength, still it was +evident that, for the moment, sorrow was forgotten in the deep +earnestness of one who feels the immensity of the task before him--the +awful responsibility of the cure of souls. + +The text was, 'Why halt ye between two opinions?' and afforded a rich +scope for persuasive argument; and Mildred's attention never wavered but +once, when her eyes rested for a moment accidentally on Richard. He and +Roy, with some other younger members of the congregation, occupied the +choir-stalls, or rather the seats appropriated for the purpose, the real +choir-stalls being occupied by some of the neighbouring farmers and +their families--an abuse that Mr. Lambert had not yet been able to +rectify. + +Roy's sleepy blue eyes were half closed; but Richard's forehead was +deeply furrowed with the lines of intense thought, a heavy frown settled +over the brows, and the mouth was rigid; the immobility of feature and +fixed contraction of the pupils bespeaking some violent struggle within. + +The sunset clouds were just waning into pallor and blue-gray +indistinctness, with a lightning-like breadth of gold on the outermost +edges, when Mildred stepped out from the dark porch, with Polly hanging +on her arm. + +'Is that Jupiter or Venus, Aunt Milly?' she asked, pointing to the sky +above them. 'It looks large and grand enough for Jupiter; and oh, how +sweet the wet grass smells!' + +'You are right, my little astronomer,' said a voice close behind them. +'There is the king of planets in all his majesty. Miss Lambert, I hope +you recognise an old acquaintance as well as a new friend. Ah, Polly! +Faithful, though a woman! I see you have not forgotten me.' And Dr. +Heriot laughed a low amused laugh at feeling his disengaged hand grasped +by Polly's soft little fingers. + +The laugh nettled her. + +'No, I have not forgotten, though other people have, it seems,' she +returned, with a little dignity, and dropping his hand. 'Three whole +days, and you have never been to see us or bid us welcome! Do you wonder +Aunt Milly and I are offended?' + +Mildred coloured, but she had too much good sense to disclaim a share in +Polly's childish reproaches. + +'I will make my apology to Miss Lambert when she feels it is needed; at +present she might rather look upon it in the light of a liberty,' +observed Dr. Heriot, coolly. 'Country practitioners are not very +punctual in paying mere visits of ceremony. I hope you have recovered +from the fatigues of settling down in a new place, Miss Lambert?' + +Mildred smiled. 'It is a very bearable sort of fatigue. Polly and I +begin to look upon ourselves as old inhabitants. Novelty and strangeness +soon wear off.' + +'And you are happy, Polly?'--repossessing himself of the little hand, +and speaking in a changed voice, at once grave and gentle. + +'Very--at least, when I am not thinking of papa' (the last very softly). +'I like the vicarage, and I like Roy--oh, so much!--almost as much as +Aunt Milly.' + +'That is well'--with a benign look, that somehow included Mildred--'but +how about Mr. Lambert and Richard and Olive? I hope my ward does not +mean to be exclusive in her likings.' + +'Mr Lambert is good, but sad--so sad!' returned Polly, with a solemn +shake of her head. 'I try not to look at him; he makes me ache all over. +And Olive is dreadful; she has not a bit of life in her; and she has got +a stoop like the old woman before us in church.' + +'Some one would be the better for some of Olive's charity, I think,' +observed her guardian, laughing. 'You must take care of this little +piece of originality, Miss Lambert; it has a trifle too much keenness. +"The pungent grains of titillating dust," as Pope has it, perceptible in +your discourse, Polly, have a certain sharpness of flavour. So handsome +Dick is under the lash, eh?' + +Polly held her peace. + +'Come, I am curious to hear your opinion of Mentor the younger, as Rex +calls him.' + +'"Sternly he pronounced the rigid interdiction" _vide_ Milton. Don't go +away, Dick; it will be wholesome discipline on the score of listeners +hearing no good of themselves.' + +'What, are you behind us, lads? Polly's discernment was not at fault, +then.' + +'It was not that,' she returned, indifferently. 'Richard knows I think +him cross and disagreeable. He and Chrissy put me in mind sometimes of +the Pharisees and Sadducees.' + +The rest laughed; but her guardian ejaculated, half-seriously, 'Defend +me from such a Polly!' + +'Well, am I not right?' she continued, pouting. 'Chrissy never believes +anything, and Richard is always measuring out rules for himself and +other people. You know you are tiresome sometimes,' she continued, +facing round on Richard, to the great amusement of the others; but the +rigid face hardly relaxed into a smile. He was in no mood for amusement +to-night. + +'Come, I won't have fault found with our young Mentor. I am afraid my +ward is a little contumacious, Miss Lambert,' turning to her, as she +stood with the little group outside the vicarage. + +'I don't understand your long words; but I see you are all laughing at +me,' returned Polly, in a tone of such pique that Dr. Heriot very wisely +changed the conversation. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +A MOTHER IN ISRAEL + + 'Of marvellous gentleness she was unto all folk, but specially + unto her own, whom she trusted and loved right tenderly. Unkind + she would not be unto no creature, nor forgetful of any + kindness or service done to her before, which is no little part + of nobleness.... Merciful also and piteous she was unto such as + was grieved and troubled, and to them that were in poverty or + sickness, or any other trouble.'--Fisher, Bishop of Rochester. + + +Mildred was not slow in perceiving that Dr. Heriot had imported a new +element of cheerfulness into the family circle; they were all seated +cosily round the supper-table when she came downstairs. Olive, who had +probably received some hint to that effect, had placed herself between +her father and Richard. + +Mildred looked at the vacant place at the head of the table a little +dubiously. + +'Never hesitate in claiming abrogated authority,' observed Dr. Heriot, +gravely, as he placed the chair for her. + +Mildred gave him a puzzled glance: 'Does my brother--does Olive wish +it?' + +'Can you doubt it?' he returned, reproachfully. 'Have you not found out +how wearily those young shoulders bear the weight of any +responsibility!' with a pitying glance in Olive's direction, which +seemed hardly needed, for she looked brighter than usual. 'Give them +time to gain strength, and she will thank you for the mercy shown her. +To-night she will eat her supper with some degree of enjoyment, now this +joint is off her mind,' and, quietly appropriating the carving-knife, he +was soon engaged in satisfying the young and healthy appetites round +him; while answering at the same time the numerous questions Roy and +Chrissy were pleased to put to him. + +Dr. Heriot, or Dr. John, as they called him, seemed the family referee. +A great stress was laid on the three days' absence, which it was averred +had accumulated a mass of plans to be decided. + +Richard wanted to consult him about the mare. Mr. Lambert had some +lengthy document from the Bounty Office to show him. Chrissy begged for +an invitation for herself and Polly for the following evening, and Olive +pleaded to be allowed to come too, as she wanted to refer to some books +in his library. + +Polly looked from one to the other only half-pleased with all this +familiarity. 'He might be every one's guardian,' she remarked _sotto +voce_ to Roy; but Dr. Heriot soon found means to allay the childish +jealousy, which he was quick enough to perceive. + +Mildred thought he looked younger and happier to-night, with all those +young aspirants for his notice pressing round him. She was startled to +hear a soft laugh from Olive once, though it was checked immediately, as +though duty put a force on inclination. + +Mr. Lambert retired to his study after supper, and Olive, at Dr. +Heriot's request, went to the piano. Mildred had heard she had no taste +for music; but to her surprise she played some hymns with accuracy and +feeling, the others joining in as they pleased. Richard pleaded fatigue +and a headache, and sat in the farthest corner, looking over the dark +fells, and shading his eyes from the lamplight; but Dr. Heriot sang in a +rich, full voice, Polly sitting at his feet and sharing his hymn-book, +while Chrissy looked over his shoulder. Mildred was enjoying the +harmony, and wondering over Roy's beautiful tenor, when she was startled +to see him turn suddenly very pale, and leave off singing; and a moment +afterwards, as though unable to contain himself, he abruptly left the +room. + +Olive glanced uneasily round, and then, under cover of the singing, +whispered to Mildred-- + +'I forgot. Oh, how careless!--how wrong of me! Aunt Milly, will you +please go after him?' + +Mildred obeyed. She found him leaning against the open garden +door--white, and almost gasping. + +'My dear boy, you are ill. Shall I call Dr. Heriot to you?' but he shook +his head impatiently. + +'Nonsense--I am all right; at least, I shall be in a moment. Don't stay, +Aunt Milly. I would not have Cardie see me for worlds; he would be +blaming Olive, and I know she forgot.' + +'The hymn we were singing, do you mean?' + +'Yes; she--mamma--was so fond of it. We used to have it every night in +her room. She asked for it almost at the last. _Sun of my soul;_ the +hymn of hymns, she called it. It was just like Livy to forget. I can +stand any but that one--it beats me. Ah, Aunt Milly!' his boyish tones +suddenly breaking beyond control. + +'Dear Rex, don't mind; these feelings do you honour. I love you the +better for them;' pressing the fair head tenderly to her shoulder, as +she had done Chrissy's. She was half afraid he might resent the action, +but for the moment his manhood was helpless. + +'That is just what she used to do,' he said, with a half sob. 'You +remind me of her somehow, Aunt Milly. There's some one coming after us. +Please--please let me go,'--the petulant dignity of seventeen years +asserting itself again,--but he seemed still so white and shaken that +she ventured to detain him. + +'Roy, dear, it is only Olive. There is nothing of which to be ashamed.' + +'Livy, oh, I don't mind her. I thought it was Dick or Heriot. Livy, how +could you play that thing when you know--you know----' but the rest of +the speech was choked somehow. + +'Oh, Rex, I am so sorry.' + +'Well, never mind; it can't be helped now. Only Aunt Milly has seen me +make an ass of myself.' + +'You are too good to scold me, Rex, I know, but I am grieved--I am +indeed. I am so fond of that hymn for her sake, that I always play it to +myself; and I forgot you could not bear it,' continued poor Olive, +humbly. + +'All right; you need not cover yourself with dust and ashes,' +interrupted Roy, with a nervous laugh. 'Ah, confound it, there's +Richard! What a fellow he is for turning up at the wrong time. +Good-night, Livy,' he continued, with a pretence at cheerfulness; 'the +dews are unwholesome. Pleasant dreams and sweet repose;' but Olive still +lingered, regardless of Roy's good-humoured attempts to save an +additional scolding. + +'Well, what's all this about?' demanded Richard, abruptly. + +'It is my fault, as usual, Cardie,' returned Olive, courting her fate +with clumsy bravery. 'I upset him by playing that hymn. Of course I +ought to have remembered.' + +'Culprit, plaintiff, defendant, and judge in one,' groaned Roy. 'Spare +us the rest, Dick, and prove to our young minds that honesty is the best +policy.' + +But Richard's brow-grew dark. 'This is the second time it has happened; +it is too bad, Olive. Not content with harassing us from morning to +night with your shiftless, unwomanly ways, you must make a blunder like +this. One's most sacred feelings trampled on mercilessly,--it is +unpardonable.' + +'Oh, draw it mild, Dick;' but Roy's lip still quivered; his sensitive +nature had evidently received a shock. + +'You are too good-natured, Rex. Such cruel heedlessness deserves +reproof, but it is all lost on Livy; she will never understand how we +feel about these things.' + +'Indeed, Cardie----' but Richard sternly checked her. + +'There is no use in saying anything more about it. If you are so devoid +of tact and feeling, you can at least have the grace to be ashamed of +yourself. Come, Roy, a turn in the air will do you good; my head still +aches badly. Let us go down over Hillsbottom for a stroll;' and Richard +laid his hand persuasively on Roy's shoulder. + +Roy shook off his depression with an effort. Mildred fancied his +brother's well-meant attempt at consolation jarred on him; but he was of +too easy a nature to contend against a stronger will; he hesitated a +moment, however. + +'We have not said good-night to Livy.' + +'Be quick about it, then,' returned Richard, turning on his heel; then +remembering himself, 'Good-night, Aunt Milly. I suppose we shall not see +you on our return?' but he took no notice of Olive, though she mutely +offered her cheek as he passed. + +'My dear, you will take cold, standing out here with uncovered head,' +Mildred said, passing her arm gently through the girl's to draw her to +the house; but Olive shook her head, and remained rooted to the spot. + +'He never bade me good-night,' she said at last, and then a large tear +rolled slowly down her lace. + +'Do you mean Richard? He is not himself to-night; something is troubling +him, I am sure.' But Mildred felt a little indignation rising, as she +thought of her nephew's hardness. + +'Rex kissed me, though; and he was the one I hurt. Rex is never hard and +unkind. Oh, Aunt Milly, I think Cardie begins to dislike me;' the tears +falling faster over her pale cheeks. + +'My dear Olive, this is only one of your morbid fancies. It is wrong to +say such things--wrong to Richard.' + +'Why should I not say what I think? There, do you see them'--pointing to +a strip of moonlight beyond the bridge--'he has his arm round Roy, and +is talking to him gently. I know his way; he can be, oh so gentle when +he likes. He is only hard to me; he is kinder even to Chrissy, who +teases him from morning to night; and I do not deserve it, because I +love him so;' burying her face in her hands, and weeping convulsively, +as no one had ever seen Olive weep before. + +'Hush, dear--hush; you are tired and overstrained with the long day's +work, or you would not fret so over an impatient word. Richard does not +mean to be unkind, but he is domineering by nature, and----' + +'No, Aunt Milly, not domineering,' striving to speak between her sobs; +'he thinks so little of himself, and so much of others. He is vexed +about Roy's being upset; he is so fond of Roy.' + +'Yes, but he has no right to misunderstand his sister so completely.' + +'I don't think I am the right sort of sister for him, Aunt Milly. Polly +would suit him better: she is so bright and winning; and then he cares +so much about looks.' + +'Nonsense, Olive: men don't think if their sisters have beauty or not. I +mean it does not make any difference in their affection.' + +'Ah, it does with Cardie. He thinks Chriss will be pretty, and so he +takes more notice of her. He said once it was very hard for a man not to +be proud of his sisters; he meant me, I know. He is always finding fault +with my hair and my dress, and telling me no woman need be absolutely +ugly unless she likes.' + +'I can see a gleam in the clouds now. We will please our young +taskmaster before we have done.' + +Olive smiled faintly, but the tears still came. It was true: she was +worn in body and mind. In this state tears are a needful luxury, as +Mildred well knew. + +'It is not this I mind. Of course one would be beautiful if one could; +but I should think it paltry to care,' speaking with mingled simplicity +and resignation. + +'Mamma told us not to trouble about such things, as it would all be made +up to us one day. What I really mind is his thinking I do not share his +and Roy's feelings about things.' + +'People have different modes of expressing them. You could play that +hymn, you see.' + +'Yes, and love to do it. When Roy left the room I had forgotten +everything. I thought mamma was singing it with us, and it seemed so +beautiful.' + +'Richard would call that visionary.' + +'He would never know;' her voice dropping again into its hopeless key. +'He thinks I am too cold to care much even about that; he does indeed, +Aunt Milly:' as Mildred, shocked and distressed, strove to hush her. +'Not that I blame him, because Roy thinks the same. I never talk to any +of them as I have done to you these two days.' + +'Then we have something tangible on which to lay the blame. You are too +reserved with your brothers, Olive. You do not let them see how much you +feel about things.' She winced. + +'No, I could not bear to be repulsed. I would rather--much rather--be +thought cold, than laughed at for a visionary. Would not you, Aunt +Milly? It hurts less, I think.' + +'And you can hug yourself in the belief that no one has discovered the +real Olive. You can shut yourself up in your citadel, while they batter +at the outworks. My poor girl, why need you shroud yourself, as though +your heart, a loving one, Olive, had some hidden deformity? If Richard +had my eyes, he would think differently.' + +Olive shook her head. + +'My child, you depreciate yourself too much. We have no right to look +down on any piece of God's handiwork. Separate yourself from your +faults. Your poor soul suffers for want of cherishing. It does not +deserve such harsh treatment. Why not respect yourself as one whom God +intends to make like unto the angels?' + +'Aunt Milly, no one has said such things to me before.' + +'Well, dear!' + +'It is beautiful--the idea, I mean--it seems to heal the sore place.' + +'I meant it to do so. It is not more beautiful than the filial love that +can find rest by a mother's grave. Cardie would never think of doing +that. When his paroxysms of pain come on him, he vents himself in long +solitary walks, or shuts himself up in his room.' + +'Aunt Milly, how did you know that? who told you?' + +'My own intuition,' returned Mildred, smiling. 'Come, child, it is long +past ten. I wonder what Polly and Dr. Heriot have been doing with +themselves all this time. Go to sleep and forget all about these +troubles;' and Mildred kissed the tear-stained face tenderly as she +spoke. + +She found Dr. Heriot alone when she entered the drawing-room. He looked +up at her rather strangely, she thought. Could he have overheard any of +their conversation? + +'I was just coming out to warn you of imprudence,' he said, rising and +offering her his chair. 'Sit there and rest yourself a little. Do +mothers in Israel generally have such tired faces?' regarding her with a +grave, inscrutable smile. + +He had heard then. Mildred could not help the rising colour that +testified to her annoyance. + +'Forgive me,' he returned, leaning over the back of her chair, and +speaking with the utmost gentleness. 'I did not mean to annoy you, far +from it. Your voices just underneath the window reached me occasionally, +and I only heard enough to----' + +'Well, Dr. Heriot?' + +Mildred sat absolutely on thorns. + +'To justify the name I just called you. I cannot help it, Miss Lambert, +you so thoroughly deserve it.' + +Mildred grew scarlet. + +'You ought to have given us a hint. Olive had no idea, neither had I. I +thought--we thought, you were talking to the girls.' + +'So I was; but I sent them away long ago. My dear Miss Lambert, I +believe you are accusing me in your heart of listening,' elevating his +eyebrows slightly, as though the idea was absurd. 'Pray dismiss such a +notion from your mind. I was in a brown study, and thinking of my +favourite Richard, when poor Olive's sobs roused me.' + +'Richard your favourite!' + +'Yes, is he not yours?' with an inquisitive glance. 'All Dick's faults, +glaring as they are, could not hide his real excellence from such +observing eyes.' + +'He interests me,' she returned, reluctantly; 'but they all do that of +course.' Somehow she was loath to confess to a secret predilection in +Richard's favour. 'He does not deserve me to speak well of him +to-night,' she continued, with her usual candour. + +Dr. Heriot looked surprised. + +'He has been captious and sharp with Olive again, I suppose. I love to +see a woman side with her sex. Well, do you know, if I were Richard, +Olive would provoke me.' + +'Possibly,' was Mildred's cool reply, for the remembrance of the sad +tear-stained face made any criticism on Olive peculiarly unpalatable at +that moment. + +Dr. Heriot was quick to read the feeling. + +'Don't be afraid, Miss Lambert. I don't mean to say a word against your +adopted daughter, only to express my thankfulness that she has fallen +into such tender hands,' and for a moment he looked at the slim, +finely-shaped hands lying folded in Mildred's lap, and which were her +chief beauty. 'I only want you to be lenient in your judgment of +Richard, for in his present state she tries him sorely.' + +'One can see he is very unhappy.' + +'People are who create a Doubting Castle for themselves, and carry Giant +Despair, as a sort of old man of the mountains, on their shoulders,' he +returned, drily. '"The perfect woman nobly planned" is rather an +inconvenient sort of burden too. Well, it is growing late, and I must go +and look after those boys.' + +'Wait a minute, Dr. Heriot. You know his trouble, perhaps?' + +He nodded. + +'Troubles, you mean. They are threefold, at least, poor Cardie! Very few +youths of nineteen know how to arrange their life, or to like other +people to arrange it for them.' + +'I want to ask you something; you know them all so well. Do you think I +shall ever win his confidence?' + +'You,' looking at her kindly; 'no one deserves it more, of course; +but----' pausing in some perplexity. + +'You hesitate.' + +'Well, Cardie is peculiar. His mother was his sole confidant, and, when +he lost her, I verily believe the poor fellow was as near heart-break as +possible. I have got into his good graces lately, and now and then he +lets off the steam; but not often. He is a great deal up at Kirkleatham +House; but I doubt the wisdom of an adviser so young and fair as Miss +Trelawny.' + +'Miss Trelawny! Who is she?' + +'What, have you not heard of "Ethel the Magnificent"? The neighbourhood +reports that Richard and I have both lost our hearts to her, and are +rivals. Only believe half you hear in Kirkby Stephen, Miss Lambert.' But +Richard is only nineteen.' + +'True; and I was accused of wearing her hair in a locket at my +watch-guard. Miss Trelawny's hair is light brown, and this is bright +auburn. I don't trouble myself to inform people that I may possibly be +wearing my mother's hair.' + +'Then you don't think my task will be easy?' asked Mildred, ignoring the +bitterness with which he had spoken. + +'What task--that of winning Cardie's confidence? I hope you don't mean +to be an anxious mother, and grow gray before your time.' Then, as +though touched by Mildred's yearning look, 'I wish I could promise you +would have no difficulty; but facts are stubborn things. Richard is +close and somewhat impracticable; but as you seem an adept in winning, +you may soften down his ruggedness sooner than we expect. Come, is that +vaguely encouraging?' + +One of Mildred's quaint smiles flitted over her face as she answered-- + +'Not very; but I mean to try, however. If I am to succeed I must give +Miss Trelawny a wide berth.' + +'Why so I' looking at her in surprise. + +'If your hint be true, Richard's mannishness would never brook feminine +interference.' + +Dr. Heriot laughed. + +'I was hardly prepared for such feminine sagacity. You are a wise woman, +Miss Lambert. If you go on like this, we shall all be afraid of you. The +specimen is rare enough in these parts, I assure you. Well, good-night.' + +It was with mingled feelings that Mildred retired to rest that night. +The events of the day, with its jarring interests and disturbed harmony, +had given her deep insight into the young lives around her. + +Three days!--she felt as though she had been three months among them. +She was thankful that Olive's confidence seemed already won--thankful +and touched to the heart; and though her conversation with Dr. Heriot +had a little damped her with regard to Richard, hers was the sort of +courage that gains strength with obstacles; and, before she slept that +night, the fond prayer rose to her lips, that Betha's sons might find a +friend in her. + +She woke the next morning with a consciousness that duty lay ready to +hand, opening out before her as the dawn brightened into day. On her way +downstairs she came upon Olive, looking heavy-eyed and unrefreshed, as +though from insufficient sleep. She was hunting among her father's +papers for a book she had mislaid. + +'Have you seen it, Aunt Milly?' + +'Do you mean this?' holding out a dilapidated _Wilhelm Tell_ for her +inspection. 'I picked it up in the court, and placed it on the shelf for +safety. Wait a moment, dear,' as Olive was rushing away, 'I want to +speak to you. Was it by yours or your father's wish that you gave up +your seat at supper to me?' + +'Oh, it was Dr. John--at least--I mean I would much rather you always +had it, Aunt Milly,' returned Olive, in her usual incoherent fashion. +'Please, do take it; it was such a load off my mind to see you sitting +there.' + +'But, my dear,' remonstrated Mildred; but Olive interrupted her with +unusual eagerness. + +'Oh, you must; you look so much nicer; and I hate it so. Dr. John +arranged it all, and papa said "Yes," as he always does. He put it so +kindly, that one could not mind; he told papa that with my +disposition--timidity he meant, and absence of mind--it would be better +for everybody's comfort if you assumed the entire management of +everything at once; and that it would be better for me to learn from you +for a few years, until you had made me a capable woman. Cardie heard +him, I know; for he gave quite a sigh of relief.' + +'Perhaps they are right; but it seems strange for Dr. Heriot to +interfere in such a matter,' returned Mildred, in a puzzled tone. + +'Oh, Dr. John always settles things; nobody calls it interference from +him,' explained Olive, in her simple matter-of-fact way. 'It is such a +relief to be told what to do. Papa only thanked him, and begged me to +put myself entirely under your direction. You are to have the keys, and +I am to show you the store cupboards and places, and to introduce you to +Nan. We are afraid you will find her a little troublesome at first, Aunt +Milly;' but Mildred only smiled, and assured her she was not afraid of +Nan, and as the bells were ringing the brief colloquy ceased. + +Mildred was quite aware Dr. Heriot was in church, as his fine voice was +distinctly audible, leading the responses. To her surprise he joined +them after service, and without waiting for an invitation, announced his +intention of breakfasting with them. + +'Nan's rolls are especially tempting on Monday morning,' he observed, +coolly; 'but to-day that is not my inducement. Is teaching one's ward +the catechism included in the category of a guardian's duty, Miss +Lambert?' + +'I was not aware that such was the case,' returned Mildred, laughing. +'Do you mean to teach Polly hers?' + +Polly drew herself up affronted. + +'I am not a little girl; I am fourteen.' + +'What a great age, and what a literal Polly!' taking her hands, and +looking at her with an amused twinkle in his eyes. 'Last night you +certainly looked nothing but a good little girl, singing hymns at my +feet; but to-day you are bridling like a young princess; you are as fond +of transformation as Proteus.' + +'Who is Proteus?' + +'A sea-god--but there is your breakfast; the catechism must wait till +afterwards. I mean to introduce you to Mrs. Cranford in proper style. +Miss Lambert, is your coffee always so good? I trust not, or my presence +may prove harassing at the breakfast-table.' + +'It is excellent, Aunt Milly:' the last from Richard. + +Mildred hoped the tone of hearty commendation would not reach Olive's +ear, as her German grammar lay by her plate as usual; but she only +looked up and nodded pleasantly. + +'I never could make coffee nicely; you must teach me, Aunt Milly,' and +dropped her eyes on her book again. + +'No paltry jealousy there,' thought Mildred; and she sat behind her urn +well pleased, for even Arnold had roused himself once to ask for his cup +to be replenished. Mildred had been called away on some household +business, and on her return she found Dr. Heriot alone, reading the +paper. He put it down as she entered. + +'Well, is Nan formidable?' + +'Her dialect is,' returned Mildred, smiling; 'I am afraid she looks upon +me in the light of an interloper. I hope she does not always mean to +call me "t'maister's sister."' + +'Probably. Nan has her idiosyncrasies, but they are rather puzzling than +dangerous; she is a type of the old Daleswoman, sturdy, independent, and +sharp-tongued; but she is a good creature in the main, though a little +contemptuous on "women-foaks." I believe Dick is her special favourite, +though she told him once "he's niver off a grummle, and that she was +fair stot t' deeth wi't sound on't," if you know what that means.' + +Mildred shook her head. + +'You must not expect too much respect to a southerner at first. I did +battle on your behalf before you came, Miss Lambert, and got terribly +worsted. "Bless me, weel, Doctor!" says Nan, "what's the matter that +t'maister's sister come here? I can do verra weel by messel', and Miss +Olive can fend for hersel'; it's nought but daftness, but it's ne'er my +business; if they please themselves they please me. I must bide +t'bitterment."' + +Mildred gave one of her quiet laughs. + +'Nan and I will be great friends soon; we must learn to respect each +other's prejudices. Poor Olive had not a chance of putting in a word. +Nan treated her as though she were a mere infant.' + +'She has known her ever since she was one, you see, Miss Lambert. I have +been putting Polly through her paces, and find she has plenty to learn +and unlearn.' + +'I suppose she has been tolerably well educated?' + +'Pretty fairly, but after a desultory fashion. I fancy she has picked up +knowledge somehow, as a bird picks up crumbs; her French accent is +perfect, and she knows a little German. She is mostly deficient in +English. I must have a long talk with Mrs. Cranford.' + +'I understood Polly was to take lessons from her?' + +'You must take an early opportunity of making her acquaintance; she is +truly excellent; the girls are fortunate in having such an instructress. +Do you know, Chrissy is already a fair Latin scholar.' + +'Chrissy! you mean Olive, surely?' + +'No, Chriss is the bluestocking--does Euclid with the boys, and already +develops a taste for mathematics. Mr. Lambert used to direct her severer +studies. I believe Richard does it now. Olive's talents lie in quite +another direction.' + +'I am anxious to know--is she really clever?' asked Mildred, astonished +at this piece of information. + +'I believe she is tolerably well read for a girl of her age, and is +especially fond of languages--the modern ones I mean--though her father +has taught her Latin. I have always thought myself, that under that +timid and lethargic exterior there is a vast amount of imaginative +force--certain turns of speech in her happier moments prove it to me. I +should not be surprised if we live to discover she has genius.' + +'I am convinced that hers is no ordinary mind,' returned Mildred, +seriously; 'but her goodness somehow pains one.' + +Dr. Heriot laughed. + +'Have you ever heard Roy's addition to the table of weights and +measures, "How many scruples make an olive?" he asked. 'My dear Miss +Lambert, that girl is a walking conscience; she has the sort of mind +that adds, subtracts, divides, and multiplies duties, till the +grasshopper becomes a burden; she is one of the most thoroughly +uncomfortable Christians I ever knew. It is a disease,' he continued, +more gravely, 'a form of internal and spiritual hyperclimacteric, and +must be treated as such.' + +'I wish she were more like your ward,' replied Mildred, anxiously; +'Polly is so healthy and girlish--she lives too much to have time for +always probing her feelings.' + +'You are right,' was the answer. 'Polly is just the happy medium, +neither too clever nor too stupid--a loving-hearted child, who will one +of these days develop into a loving-hearted woman. Is she not delicious +with her boyish head and piquante face--pretty too, don't you think so?' +And as the sound of the girls' voices reached them at this moment, Dr. +Heriot rose, and a few minutes afterwards Mildred saw him cross the +court, with Polly and Chrissy hanging on each arm. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +'ETHEL THE MAGNIFICENT' + + 'A maid of grace and complete majesty.' + + +Later on in the morning Mildred was passing by the door of her brother's +study, when she heard his voice calling to her. He was sitting in his +usual chair, with his back to the light, reading, but he laid down his +book directly. + +'Are you busy, Mildred?' + +'Not if you want me,' she returned, brightly. 'I was just thinking I had +hardly spoken to you to-day.' + +'The same thought was lying heavy on my conscience. Heriot tells me you +are looking better already. I hope you are beginning to feel at home +with us, my dear.' + +'With you, Arnold--do you need to ask?' Mildred returned, reproachfully. +But the tears started to her eyes. + +'And the children are good to you?' he continued, a little anxiously. + +'They are everything I can wish. Cardie is most thoughtful for my +comfort, and Olive is fast losing her shyness. The only thing I regret +is that I manage to see so little of you, Arnold.' + +He patted her hand gently. 'It is better so, my dear. I am poor company, +I fear, and have grown into strangely unsociable ways. They are good +children; but you must not let them spoil me, Mildred. Sometimes I think +I ought to rouse myself more for their sakes.' + +'Indeed, Arnold, their conduct is most exemplary. Neither Cardie nor Roy +ever seem to let you go out alone.' + +'Ay, ay,' he muttered; 'his mother was right. The lad is beyond his +years, and has a wise head on young shoulders. Heriot tells me I must be +looking out for a curate. I had some notion of waiting for Richard, but +he will have it the work is beyond me.' + +Mildred was silent. She thought any work, however exhausting, was better +than the long lonely hours passed in the study--hours during which his +children were denied admittance, and for which all Richard's mannishness +was not allowed to find a remedy; and yet, as she looked at the wan, +thin face, and weary stoop of the figure, might it not be that Dr. +Heriot was right? + +'Heriot has heard of some one at Durham who is likely to suit me, he +thinks; he wants me to have him down. By the bye, Mildred, how do you +get on with Heriot?' + +'He is very nice,' she returned, vaguely, rather taken aback by the +suddenness of the question. 'Such a general favourite could not fail to +please,' she continued, a little mischievously. + +'Ah, you are laughing at us. Well, Heriot is our weak point, I confess. +Cardie is not given to raptures, but he has not a word to say against +him, and Trelawny is always having him up at Kirkleatham. Kirkby Stephen +could not do without Heriot now.' + +'He is clever in his profession, then?' + +'Very. And then so thoroughly unselfish; he would go twenty miles to do +any one a service, and take as much pains to hide it afterwards. I shall +be disappointed, indeed Mildred, if you and he do not become good +friends.' + +'Dear Arnold, he is a perfect stranger to me yet. I like him quite well +enough to wish to see more of him. There seems some mystery about him,' +she continued, hesitating; for Mildred, honest and straightforward by +nature, was a foe to all mysteries. + +'Only the mystery of a disappointed life. He has no secrets with us--he +never had. We knew him when we lived at Lambeth, and even then his story +was well known to us.' + +'Betha told me he had given up a large West End practice in consequence +of severe domestic trouble. She hinted once that he had a bad wife.' + +'She was hardly deserving of the name. I have heard that she was nine +years older than he, and a great beauty; a woman, too, of marvellous +fascination, and gifted beyond the generality of her sex, and that he +was madly in love when he married her.' + +'Perhaps the love was only on his side?' + +'Alas! yes. He found out, when it was too late, that she had accepted +him out of pique, and that his rival was living. The very first days of +their union were embittered by the discovery that jealousy had forged +these life-long fetters for them, and that already remorse was driving +his unhappy bride almost frantic. Can you conceive the torment for poor +Heriot? He could not set her free, though he loved her so that he would +willingly have laid down his life to give her peace. She had no mother +living, or he would have sent her away when he saw how distasteful his +presence was to her; but, though she had murdered his happiness as well +as her own, he was bound to be her protector.' + +'He was right,' returned Mildred, in a low voice. + +'Ay, and he acted nobly. Instead of overwhelming her with reproaches +that could have done no good, or crushing her still more with his +coldness, he forgave her, and set himself to win the heart that proved +itself so unworthy of his forbearance. Any other husband would have +thought himself injured beyond reparation, but not so Heriot. He hid his +wretchedness, and by every means in his power tried to lighten the +burden of his domestic misery.' + +'But people must have seen it?' + +'Not through his complaint, for he ever honoured her. I have been told +by those who knew him at the time, that his conduct to her was +blameless, and that they marvelled at the gentleness with which he bore +her wayward fits. After the birth of their only child there was an +interval of comparative comfort; in her weakness there was a glimmering +of compassion for the man she had injured, and who was the father of her +boy. Heriot was touched by the unusual kindness of her manner; there +were even tears in her eyes when he took the little creature in his arms +and noticed the long eyelashes, so like his mother's.' + +'But the child died?' + +'Yes--"the little peacemaker," as Heriot fondly called it. But certainly +all peace was buried in its little grave; for it was during the months +that followed her child's loss that Margaret Heriot developed that +unwholesome craving for stimulants which afterwards grew to absolute +disease, and which was to wear out her husband's patience into slow +disgust and then into utter weariness of life.' + +'Oh, Arnold, I never suspected this!' + +'It was just then we made his acquaintance, and, as a priest, he sought +my help and counsel in ministering to what was indeed a diseased mind; +but, poor misguided woman! she would not see me. In her better moments +she would cling to Heriot, and beg him to save her from the demon that +seemed to possess her. She even knelt and asked his forgiveness once; +but no remedy that he could recommend could be effectual in the case of +one who had never been taught to deny herself a moment's gratification. +I shudder to think of the scenes to which she subjected him, of the +daily torture and uncertainty in which he lived: his was the mockery of +a home. Her softer feelings had in time turned to hate; she never spoke +to him at last but to reproach him with being the cause of her misery.' + +'Then it was this that induced him to give up his London practice?' + +'Yes. It was a strange act of his; but I verily believe the man was +broken-hearted. He had grown to loathe his life, and the spectacle of +her daily degradation made him anxious to shake off friends and old +belongings. I believe, too, she had contracted serious debts, and he was +anxious to take her out of the way of temptation. Heriot was always a +creature of impulse; his chief motive in following us here was to bury +himself socially, though I think our friendship had even then become +necessary to him. At one time he trusted, too, that the change might be +beneficial for her; but he soon found out his mistake.' + +'They say that women who have contracted this fatal habit are so seldom +cured,' sighed Mildred. + +'God help their husbands!' ejaculated Mr. Lambert. 'I always thought +myself that the poor creature was possessed, for her acts certainly +bordered on frenzy. He found at last that he was fighting against mental +disease, but he refused all advice to place her under restraint. "I am +her husband," he said once to me; "I have taken her for better and +worse. But there will be no better for her, my poor Margaret; she will +not be long with me--there is another disease at work; let her die in +her husband's home."' + +'But did she die there? I thought Betha told me she was away from him.' + +'Yes, he had sent her with her nurse to the sea, meaning to join them, +when news reached him that she was rapidly failing. The release came +none too soon. Poor creature! she had suffered martyrdom; it was by her +own wish that he was called, but he arrived too late--the final attack +was very sudden. And so, as he said, the demon that had tormented her +was cast out for ever. "Anything more grandly beautiful than she looked +could not be imagined." But what touched him most was to find among the +treasures she had secretly hidden about her, an infant's sock and a +scrap of downy hair; and faintly, almost illegibly, traced on the paper +by her dying hand, "My little son's hair, to be given to his father." +Ah, Mildred, my dear, you look ready to weep; but, alas! such stories +are by no means rare, and during my ministry I have met with others +almost as sad as Heriot's. His troubles are over now, poor fellow, +though doubtless they have left life-long scars. Grieved as he has been, +he may yet see the fruit of his noble forbearance in that tardy +repentance and mute prayer for forgiveness. Who knows but that the first +sight that may meet his eyes in the other world may be Margaret, +"sitting clothed and in her right mind at her Master's feet"?' + +Never had Mildred seen her brother more roused and excited than during +the recital of his friend's unhappy story, while in herself it had +excited a degree of emotion that was almost painful. + +'It shows how carefully we should abstain from judging people from their +outward appearance,' she remarked, after a short interval of silence. +'When I first saw Dr. Heriot I thought there was something a little +repellent in that dark face of his, but when he spoke he gave me a more +pleasing impression.' + +'He has his bitter moods at times; no one could pass through such an +ordeal quite unscathed. I am afraid he will never marry again; he told +me once that the woman did not live whom he could love as he loved +Margaret.' + +'She must have been very beautiful.' + +'I believe her chief charm lay in her wonderful fascination of manner. +Heriot is a severe critic in feminine beauty; he is singularly +fastidious; he will not allow that Miss Trelawny is handsome, though I +believe she is generally considered to be so. But I must not waste any +more time in gossiping about our neighbours. By the bye, Mildred, you +must prepare for an inundation of visitors this afternoon.' + +Mr. Lambert was right. Mildred, to her great surprise, found herself +holding a reception, which lasted late into the afternoon; at one time +there was quite a block of wagonettes and pony carriages in the +courtyard; and but for her brother's kindness in remaining to steer her +through the difficulties of numerous introductions, she might have found +her neighbours' goodwill a little perplexing. + +She had just decided in her own mind that Mrs. Sadler was disagreeable, +and the Northcotes slightly presuming and in bad style, and that Mrs. +Heath was as rosy and commonplace as her husband, when they took their +leave, and another set of visitors arrived who were rather, more to +Mildred's taste. + +These were the Delameres of Castlesteads. The Reverend Stephen Delamere +was a tall, ascetic-looking man, with quiet, well-bred manners, in +severe clerical costume. His wife had a simple, beautiful face, and was +altogether a pleasant, comely-looking creature, but her speech was +somewhat homely; and Mildred thought her a little over-dressed: the pink +cheeks and smiling eyes hardly required the pink ribbons and feathers to +set them off. Their only child, a lad of ten years, was with them, and +Mildred, who was fond of boys, could not help admiring the bold gipsy +face and dark eyes. + +'I am afraid Claude is like me, people say so,' observed Mrs. Delamere, +turning her beaming face on Mildred. 'I would much rather he were like +his father; the Delameres are all good-looking; old Mr. Delamere was; +Stephen called him after his grandfather; I think Claude such a pretty +name; Claude Lorraine Delamere: Lorraine is a family name, too; not +mine, you know,' dimpling more than ever at the idea; 'good gracious, +the Greysons don't own many pretty names among them.' + +'Susie, I have been asking our friend Richard to take an early +opportunity of driving his aunt over to Castlesteads,' interrupted her +husband, with an uneasy glance, 'and we must make Miss Lambert promise +to bring over her nieces to the Rush-bearing.' + +Mrs. Delamere clapped her plump hands together joyously, showing a slit +in her pink glove as she did so. + +'I am so glad you have mentioned that, Stephen, I might have forgotten +it. Miss Lambert, you must come to us; you must indeed. The Chestertons +of the Hall are sure to ask you; but you must remember you are engaged +to us.' + +'The Rush-bearing,' repeated Mildred, somewhat perplexed. + +'It is an old Westmoreland custom,' explained Mr. Delamere; 'it is kept +on St. Peter's Day, and is a special holiday with us. I believe it was +revived in the last century at Great Musgrave,' he continued, looking at +Mr. Lambert for confirmation of the statement. + +'Yes, but it did not long continue; it has been revived again of late; +it is a pretty sight, Mildred, and well worth seeing; the children carry +garlands instead of rushes to the church, where service is said; and +afterwards there is a dance in the park, and sports, such as wrestling, +pole-leaping, and trotting matches, are carried on all the afternoon.' + +'But what is the origin of such a custom, Arnold?' + +'It dates from the time when our forefathers used green rushes instead +of carpets, the intention being to bless the rushes on the day of the +patron saint.' + +'You must permit me to contradict you in one particular, Lambert, as our +authorities slightly differ. The real origin of the custom was that, on +the day of the patron saint, the church was strewn with fresh rushes, +the procession being headed by a girl dressed in white, and wearing a +crown; but Miss Lambert looks impressed,' he continued, with a serious +smile; 'you must come and see it for yourself. Chrissy tells me she is +too old to wear a crown this year. Some of our ladies show great taste +in the formation of their garlands.' + +'May Chesterton's is always the prettiest. Do you mean to dance with May +on the green this year, Claude?' asked Mrs. Delamere, turning to her +boy. + +Claude shook his head and coloured disdainfully. + +'I am going in for the foot-race; father says I may,' he returned, +proudly. + +'May is his little sweetheart; he has been faithful to her ever since he +was six years old. Uncle Greyson says----' + +'Susie, we must be going,' exclaimed her husband, hastily. 'You must not +forget the Chestertons and Islip are dining with us to-night. Claude, my +boy, bid Miss Lambert good-bye. My wife and I hope to see you very soon +at the vicarage.' + +'Yes, come soon,' repeated Mrs. Delamere, with a comfortable squeeze of +her hand and more smiles. 'Stephen is always in such a hurry; but you +must pay us a long visit, and bring that poor girl with you. Yes, I am +ready, Stephen,' as a frown of impatience came over her husband's face. +'You know of old what a sad gossip I am; but there, what are women's +tongues given them for if they are not to be used?' and Susie looked up +archly at the smooth, blue-shaven face, that was slow to relax into a +smile. + +Mildred hoped that these would be her last visitors, but she was +mistaken, for a couple of harmless maiden ladies, rejoicing in the +cognomen of Ortolan, took their places, and chirruped to Mildred in +shrill little birdlike voices. Mildred, who had plenty of quiet humour +of her own, thought they were not unlike a pair of love-birds Arnold had +once given her, the little sharp faces, and hooked noses, and light +prominent eyes were not unlike them; and the bright green shawls, +bordered with yellow palm-leaves, completed the illusion. They were so +wonderfully alike, too, the only perceptible difference being that Miss +Tabitha had gray curls, and a velvet band, and talked more; and Miss +Prissy had a large miniature of an officer, probably an Ortolan too, +adorning her small brown wrist. + +They talked to Mildred breathlessly about the mothers' meeting, and the +clothing-club, and the savings' bank. + +'Such a useful institution of dear Mr. Lambert's,' exclaimed Miss +Prissy. + +'The whole parish is so well conducted,' echoed her sister with a +tremulous movement of the head and curls; 'we think ourselves blessed in +our pastor, Miss Lambert,' in a perfectly audible whisper; 'such +discourses, such clear doctrine and Bible truth, such resignation +manifested under such a trying dispensation. Oh dear, Prissy,' +interrupting herself, as a stanhope, with a couple of dark brown horses, +was driven into the court with some little commotion, 'here is the +squire, and what will he say at our taking the precedence of him, and +making bold to pay our respects to Miss Lambert?' + +'He would say you are very kind neighbours, I hope,' returned Mildred, +trying not to smile, and wondering when her ordeal would be over. Her +brother had not effected his escape yet, and his jaded face was a tacit +reproach to her. Richard, who had ushered in their previous visitors, +and had remained yawning in the background, brightened up visibly. + +'Here are the Trelawnys, sir; it is very good of them to call so soon.' + +'It is only what I should have expected, Cardie,' returned his father, +with mild indifference. 'Mr. Trelawny is a man of the world, and knows +what is right, that is all.' + +And Richard for once looked crestfallen. + +'Dear now, but doesn't she look a beauty,' whispered Miss Tabitha, +ecstatically, as Miss Trelawny swept into the room on her father's arm, +and greeted Mildred civilly, but without effusion, and then seated +herself at some little distance, where Richard immediately joined her, +the squire meanwhile taking up a somewhat lofty attitude on the +hearthrug, directly facing Mildred. + +Mildred thought she had never seen a finer specimen of an English +gentleman; the tall, well-knit figure, the clear-cut face, and olive +complexion, relieved by the snow-white hair, made up a very striking +exterior; perhaps the eyes were a little cold and glassy-looking, but on +the whole it could not be denied that Mr. Trelawny was a very +aristocratic-looking man. + +His manners were easy and polished, and he was evidently well read on +many subjects. Nevertheless a flavour of condescension in his tone gave +Mildred an uneasy conviction that she was hardly appearing to her best +advantage. She was painfully aware once or twice of a slight hesitation +marring a more than usually well-worded sentence, and could see it was +at once perceived. + +Mildred had never considered herself of great consequence, but she had a +certain wholesome self-respect which was grievously wounded by the +patronising indulgence that rectified her harmless error. + +'I felt all at once as though I were nobody, and might be taken up for +false pretensions for trying to be somebody,' as she expressed it to Dr. +Heriot afterwards, who laughed and said-- + +'Very true.' + +Mildred would have risen to seat herself by Miss Trelawny, but the +squire's elaborate observations allowed her no reprieve. Once or twice +she strove to draw her into the conversation; but a turn of the head, +and a brief answer, more curt than agreeable, was all that rewarded her +efforts. Nevertheless Mildred liked her voice; it had a pleasant +crispness in it, and the abruptness was not unmusical. + +Mildred only saw her full face when she rose to take leave: her figure +was very graceful, but her features could hardly be termed beautiful; +though the dead brown hair, with its waves of ripples, and the large +brilliant eyes, made her a decidedly striking-looking girl. + +Mildred, who was somewhat Quaker-like in her taste, thought the +cream-coloured silk, with its ruby velvet facings, somewhat out of place +in their homely vicarage, though the Rubens hat was wonderfully +picturesque; it seemed less incongruous when Miss Trelawny remarked +casually that they were on their way to a garden-party. + +'Do you like archery? Papa is thinking of getting up a club for the +neighbourhood,' she said, looking at Mildred as she spoke. In spite of +their dark brilliancy there was a sad, wistful look in her eyes that +somehow haunted Mildred. They looked like eyes that were demanding +sympathy from a world that failed to understand them. + +It was not to be expected that Mildred would be prepossessed by Miss +Trelawny in a first visit. Not for weeks, nor for long afterwards, did +she form a true estimate of her visitor, or learn the idiosyncrasies of +a character at once peculiar and original. + +People never understood Ethel Trelawny. There were subtle difficulties +in her nature that baffled and repelled them. 'She was odd,' they said, +'so unusual altogether, and said such queer things;' a few even hinted +that it was possible that a part might sometimes be acted. + +Miss Trelawny was nineteen now, and had passed through two London +seasons with indifferent success, a fact somewhat surprising, as her +attractions certainly were very great. Without being exactly beautiful, +she yet gave an impression of beauty, and certain tints of colour and +warm lights made her at times almost brilliant. In a crowded ballroom +she was always the centre of observation; but one by one her partners +dropped off, displeased and perplexed by the scarifying process to which +they had been subjected. + +'People come to dance and not to think,' observed one young cornet, +turning restive under such treatment, and yet obstinate in his +admiration of Ethel. He had been severely scorched during a previous +dance, but had returned to the charge most gallantly; 'the music is +delicious; do take one more turn with me; there is a clear space now.' + +'Do people ever think; does that man, for example?' returned Ethel, +indicating a tall man before them, who was pulling his blonde moustache +with an expression of satisfied vacuity. 'What sort of dwarfed soul +lives in that six feet or so of human matter?' + +'Miss Trelawny, you are too bad,' burst out her companion with an +expression of honest wrath that showed him not far removed from boyhood. +'That fellow is the bravest and the kindest-hearted in our regiment. He +nursed me, by Jove, that he did, when I was down with fever in the +hunting-box last year. Not think--Robert Drummond not think,' and he +doubled his fist with an energy that soon showed a gash in the faultless +lavender kid glove. + +'I like you all the better for your defence of your friend,' returned +Ethel calmly, and she turned on him a smile so frank and sweet that the +young man was almost dazzled. 'If one cannot think, one should at least +feel. If I give you one turn more, I dare say you will forgive me,' and +from that moment she and Charlie Treherne were firm friends. + +But others were not so fortunate, and retired crestfallen and +humiliated. One of Charlie's brother-officers whom he introduced to +Ethel in a fit of enthusiasm as 'our major, and a man every inch of him, +one of the sort who would do the charge at Balaclava again,' subsided +into sulkiness and total inanity on finding that instead of discussing +Patti and the last opera, Ethel was bent on discovering the ten missing +tribes of Israel. + +'How hot this room is. They don't give us enough ventilation, I think,' +gasped the worthy major at length. + +'I was just thinking it was so cool. You are the third partner I have +had who has complained of the heat. If you are tired of this waltz, let +us sit down in that delightful conservatory;' but as the major, with a +good deal of unnecessary energy, declared he could dance till daybreak +without fatigue, Ethel quietly continued her discourse. + +'I have a theory, I forget from whom I first gathered it, that we shall +be discovered to be the direct descendants of the tribe of Gad. Look +round this room, Major Hartstone, you will find a faint type of Jewish +features on many a face; that girl with the dark _crepe_ hair +especially. I consider we shall play a prominent part in the +millennium.' + +'Millennium--aw; you are too droll, Miss Trelawny. I can see a joke as +well as most people, but you go too deep for me. Fancy what Charlie will +say when I tell him that he belongs to the tribe of Gad--tribe of +Gad--aw--aw--' and as the major, unable to restrain his hilarity any +longer, burst into a fit of hearty laughter, Ethel, deeply offended, +desired him to lead her to her place. + +It was no better in the Row, where Miss Trelawny rode daily with her +father, her beautiful figure and superb horsemanship attracting all +eyes. At first she had quite a little crowd of loungers round her, but +they dispersed by degrees. + +'Do you see that girl--Miss Boville?' asked one in a languid drawl, as +Ethel reined her horse up under a tree, and sat looking dreamily over +the shifting mass of carriages and gaily-dressed pedestrians; 'she is +awfully handsome; don't you think so?' + +'I don't know. I have not thought about it,' she returned, abstractedly; +'the question is, Captain Ellison, has she a beautiful mind?' + +'My dear Miss Trelawny, you positively startle me; you are so unlike +other people. I only know she has caught Medwin and his ten thousand a +year.' + +'Poor thing,' was the answer, leaning over and stroking her horse's neck +thoughtfully. 'Touched--quite touched,' observed the young man, +significantly tapping his forehead, as Ethel rode by--'must be a little +queer, you know, or she would not say such things--sort of craze or +hallucination--do you know if it be in the family?' + +'Nonsense, it is only an ill-arranged mind airing its ideas; she is +delightfully young and fresh,' returned his companion, a clever +barrister, who had the wit to read a girl's vagarisms aright as the +volcanic eruptions of an undisciplined and unsatisfied nature. + +But it would not do; people passed over Ethel for other girls who were +comparatively plain and ordinary, but whose thinking powers were more +under control. One declaration had indeed been made, but it was received +by such sad wonder on Ethel's part, that the young man looked at her in +reproachful confusion. + +'Surely you cannot have mistaken my attentions, Miss Trelawny? As a man +of honour, I thought it right to come to a clear understanding; if I +have ventured to hope too much, I trust you will tell me so.' + +'Do you mean you wish to marry me?' asked Ethel, in a tone of regret and +dismay. + +Arthur Sullivan had been a special favourite with her; he had listened +to her rhapsodies good-humouredly, and had forborne to laugh at them; he +was good-looking too, and possessed of moderate intelligence, and they +had got on very well together during a whole season. It was with a +sensation of real pain that she heard him avow his intentions. + +'There is some mistake. I have never led you to believe that I would +ever be your wife,' she continued, turning pale, and her eyes filling +with tears. + +'No, Miss Trelawny--never,' he answered, hurriedly; 'you are no flirt. +If any one be to blame, it is I, for daring to hope I could win you.' + +'Indeed it is I who do not deserve you,' she returned, sadly; 'but it is +not your fault that you cannot give me what I want. Perhaps I expect too +much; perhaps I hardly know what it is I really do want.' + +'May I wait till you find out?' he asked, earnestly; 'real love is not +to be despised, even though it be accompanied with little wisdom.' + +The white lids dropped heavily over the eyes, and for a moment she made +no answer; only as he rose from her side, and walked up and down in his +agitation, she rose too, hurriedly. + +'It cannot be--I feel it--I know it--you are too good to me, Mr. +Sullivan; and I want something more than goodness--but--but--does my +father know?' + +'Can you doubt it?' + +'Then he will never forgive me for refusing you. Oh, what a hard thing +it is to be a woman, and to wait for one's fate, instead of going out to +seek it. Now I have lost my friend in finding a lover, and my father's +anger will be bitter against me.' + +Ethel was right; in refusing Arthur Sullivan she had refused the +presumptive heir to a baronetcy, and Mr. Trelawny's ambitious soul was +sorely vexed within him. + +'You have never been of any use or comfort to me, Ethel, and you never +will,' he said, harshly; 'just as I was looking to you to redeem +matters, you are throwing away this chance. What was the fault with the +young fellow? you seemed fond enough of him at one time; he is handsome +and gentlemanly enough to please any girl; but it is just one of your +fads.' + +'He is very amiable, but his character wants backbone, papa. When I +marry, my husband must be my master; I have no taste for holding the +reins myself.' + +'When you marry: I wish you would marry, Ethel, for all the comfort you +are to me. If my boys had lived--but what is the use of wishing for +anything?' + +'Papa,' she returned with spirit, 'I cannot help being a girl; it is my +misfortune, not my fault. I wish I could satisfy you better,' she +continued, softly, 'but it seems as though we grow more apart every +day.' + +'It is your own fault,' he returned, morosely. 'Marry Arthur Sullivan, +and I will promise to think better of your sense.' + +'I cannot, papa. I am not going to marry any one,' she answered, in the +suppressed voice he knew so well. And then, as though fearful the +argument might be continued, she quietly left the room. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +KIRKLEATHAM + + 'And on we went; but ere an hour had pass'd, + We reach'd a meadow slanting to the North; + Down which a well-worn pathway courted us + To one green wicket in a privet hedge; + This, yielding, gave into a grassy walk + Through crowded lilac-ambush trimly pruned; + And one warm gust, full-fed with perfume, blew + Beyond us, as we enter'd in the cool. + The garden stretches southward.'--Tennyson. + + +The next few days passed quietly enough. Mildred, who had now assumed +the entire management of the household, soon discovered that Olive's +four months of misrule and shiftlessness had entailed on her an overplus +of work, and, though she was never idle, she soon found that even her +willing hands could hardly perform all the tasks laid on them, and that +scarcely an interval of leisure was available throughout the day. + +'It will not be always so,' she remarked, cheerfully, when Richard took +upon himself to remonstrate with her. 'When I have got things a little +more into order, I mean to have plenty of time to myself. Polly and I +have planned endless excursions to Podgill and the out-wood, to stock +the new fernery Roy is making for us, and I hope to accompany your +father sometimes when he goes to Nateley and Winton.' + +'Nevertheless, I mean to drive you over to Brough to-day. You must come, +Aunt Milly. You are looking pale, Dr. John says, and the air will do you +good. Huddle all those things into the basket,' he continued, in a +peremptory voice that amused Mildred, and, acting on his words, he swept +the neat pile of dusters and tea-cloths that lay beside her into Olive's +unlucky mending-basket, and then faced round on her with his most +persuasive air. 'It is such a delicious day, and you have been working +like a galley-slave ever since you got up this morning,' he said, +apologetically. 'My father would be quite troubled if he knew how hard +you work. Do you know Dr. John threatens to tell him?' + +'Dr. John had better mind his own business,' returned Mildred, +colouring. 'Very well, Richard, you shall have your way as usual; my +head aches rather, and a drive will be refreshing. Perhaps you could +drop me at Kirkleatham on our way home. I must return Miss Trelawny's +visit.' + +Richard assented with alacrity, and then bidding Mildred be ready for +him in ten minutes, he hastened from the room. + +Mildred had noticed a great change in Richard during the last week; he +seemed brighter, and was less carping and disagreeable in his manners to +Olive; and though he still snubbed her at times, there was an evident +desire to preserve harmony in the family circle, which the others were +not slow to appreciate. + +In many little ways he showed Mildred that he was grateful to her for +the added comfort of her presence; any want of regularity and order was +peculiarly trying to him; and now that he was no longer aggravated by +Olive's carelessness and left-handed ways, he could afford even to be +gracious to her, especially as Mildred had succeeded in effecting some +sort of reformation in the offending hair and dress. + +'There, now you look nice, and Cardie will say so,' she said, as she +fastened up the long braids, which now looked bright and glossy, and +then settled the collar, which was as usual somewhat awry, and tied the +black ribbon into a natty bow. 'A little more time and care would not be +wasted, Olive. We have no right to tease other people by our untidy +ways, or to displease their eyes; it is as much an act of selfishness as +of indolence, and may be encouraged until it becomes a positive sin.' + +'Do you think so, Aunt Milly?' + +'I am sure of it. Chrissy thinks me hard on her, but so much depends on +the habits we form when quite young. I believe with many persons +tidiness is an acquired virtue; it requires some sort of education, and +certainly not a little discipline.' + +'But, Aunt Milly, I thought some people were always tidy; from their +childhood, I mean. Chriss and I never were,' she continued, sorrowfully. + +'Some people are methodical by nature; Cardie, for example. They early +see the fitness and beauty of order. But, Olive, for your comfort, I am +sure it is to be acquired.' + +'Not by me, Aunt Milly.' + +'My dear--why not? It is only a question of patience and discipline. If +you made the rule now of never going to a drawer in a hurry. When +Chrissy wants anything, she jerks the contents of the whole drawer on +the floor; I have found her doing it more than once.' + +'She could not find her gloves, and Cardie was waiting,' returned Olive, +always desirous of screening another's fault. + +'Yes; but she left it to you to pick up all the things again. If +Chriss's gloves were in their right place, no one need have been +troubled. I could find my gloves blindfold.' + +'I am always tidying my own and Chrissy's drawers, Aunt Milly; but in a +few days they are as bad as ever,' returned Olive, helplessly. + +'Because you never have time to search quietly for a thing. Did you look +in the glass, Olive, while you were doing your hair this morning?' + +'I don't know. I think so. I was learning my German verses, I believe.' + +'So Cardie had a right to grumble over your crooked parting and unkempt +appearance. You should keep your duties like the contents of your +drawers, neatly piled on the top of each other. No lady can arrange her +hair properly and do German at the same time. Tell me, Olive, you have +not so many headaches since I got your father to forbid your sitting up +so late at night.' + +'No, Aunt Milly; but all the same I wish you and he had not made the +rule; it used to be such a quiet time.' + +'And you learn all the quicker since you have had regular walks with +Polly and Chriss.' + +'I am less tired after my lessons, certainly. I thought that was because +you took away the mending-basket; the stooping made my back ache, +and----' + +'I see,' returned Mildred, with a satisfied smile. + +Olive's muddy complexion was certainly clearer, and there was less +heaviness in her gait, since she had judiciously insisted that the hours +of rest should be kept intact. It had cost Olive some tears, however, +for that quiet time when the household were sleeping round her was very +precious to the careworn girl. + +Richard gave vent to an audible expression of pleasure when he noticed +his sister's altered appearance, and his look of approbation was most +pleasant to Mildred. + +'If you would only hold yourself up, and smile sometimes, you would +really look as well as other people,' was the qualified praise he gave +her. + +'I am glad you are pleased,' returned Olive, simply. 'I never expect you +to admire me, Cardie. I am plainer than any one else, I know.' + +'Yes; but you have nice eyes, and what a quantity of hair,' passing his +hand over the thick coils in which Mildred had arranged it. 'She looks a +different girl, does she not, Aunt Milly?' + +'It is very odd, but I believe Cardie does not dislike me so much +to-day,' Olive said, when she wished her aunt good-night. + +She and Polly took turns every night in coming into Mildred's room with +little offers of service, but in reality to indulge in a cosy chat. It +was characteristic of the girls that they never came together. Olive was +silent and reserved before Polly, and Polly was at times a little +caustic in her wit. 'We mix as badly as oil and water,' she said once. +'I shall always think Olive the most tiresome creature in the world. +Chriss is far more amusing.' + +'Why do you think so?' asked Mildred, gently. She was always gentle with +Olive; these sort of weary natures need much patience and delicacy of +handling, she thought. + +'He speaks more kindly, and he has looked at me several times, not in +his critical way, but as if he were not so much displeased at my +appearance; but, Aunt Milly, it is so odd, his caring, I mean.' + +'Why so, my dear?' + +'If I loved a person very much, I should not care how they looked; they +might be ugly or deformed, but it would make no difference. Cardie's +love seems to vary somehow.' + +'Anything unsightly is very grievous to him, but not in the way you +mean, Olive. He is peculiarly tender over any physical infirmity. I +liked his manner so to little Cathy Villers to-day.' + +'But all the same he attaches too much importance to merely outward +things,' returned Olive, who sometimes showed tenacity in her opinions; +'not that I blame him,' she continued, as though she feared she had been +uncharitable, 'only that it is so odd.' + +Mildred was in a somewhat gladsome mood as she prepared for her drive. +Richard's thoughtfulness pleased her; on the whole things were going +well with her. Under her judicious management, the household had fallen +into more equable and tranquil ways. There were fewer jars, and more +opportunity for Roy's lurking spirit of fun to develop itself. She had +had two or three stormy scenes with Chriss; but the little girl had +already learned to respect the gentle firmness that would not abate one +iota of lawful authority. + +'We are learning our verbs from morning to night,' grumbled Chriss, in a +confidential aside to Roy; 'that horrid one, "to tidy," you know. Aunt +Milly is always in the imperative mood. I declare I am getting sick of +it. Hannah or Rachel used to mend my gloves and things, and now she +insists on my doing it myself. I broke a dozen needles one afternoon to +spite her, but she gave me the thirteenth with the same sweet smile. It +is so tiresome not to be able to provoke people.' + +But even Chrissy was secretly learning to value the kind forbearance +that bore with her wayward fancies, and the skilfulness that helped her +out of many a scrape. Mildred had made the rule that after six o'clock +no lesson-books were to be opened. In the evening they either walked or +drove, or sat on the lawn working, while Richard or Roy read aloud, +Mildred taking the opportunity to overlook her nieces' work, and to +remonstrate over the giant strides that Chriss's needle was accustomed +to take. Even Olive owned these quiet times were very nice, while Mr. +Lambert had once or twice been drawn into the charmed circle, and had +paced the terrace in lieu of the churchyard, irresistibly attracted by +the pleasant spectacle. + +Mildred was doing wonders in her quiet way; she had already gained some +insight into parish matters; she had accompanied her brother in his +house-to-house visitation, and had been much struck by the absence of +anything like distress. Poverty was there, but not hard-griping want. As +a general rule the people were well-to-do, independent, and fairly +respectable. One village had a forlorn and somewhat neglected +appearance; but the generality of Mr. Lambert's parishioners struck +Mildred as far superior to the London poor whom she had visited. + +As yet she had not seen the darker side of the picture; she was shocked +to hear Mr. Lambert speak on future occasions of the tendency to schism, +and the very loose notions of morality that prevailed even among the +better sort of people. The clergy had uphill work, he said. The new +railway had brought a large influx of navvies, and the public-houses +were always full. + +'The commandments are broken just as easily in sight of God's hills as +they are in the crowded and fetid alleys of our metropolis,' he said +once. 'Human nature is the same everywhere, even though it be glossed +over by outward respectability. + +Mildred had already come in contact with the Ortolans more than once, +and had on many occasions seen the green and yellow shawls flitting in +and out of the cottages. + +'They do a great deal of good, and are really very worthy creatures, in +spite of their oddities,' observed Mr. Lambert once. 'They live over at +Hartley. There is a third one, an invalid, Miss Bathsheba, who is very +different from the others, and is, I think, quite a superior person. +When I think of the gallant struggle they have carried on against +trouble and poverty, one is inclined to forgive their little whims: it +takes all sorts of people to make up a world, Mildred.' + +Mildred thoroughly enjoyed her drive. Richard was in one of his +brightest moods, and talked with more animation than usual, and seeing +that his aunt was really interested in learning all about their +surroundings, he insisted on putting up the pony-carriage, and took +Mildred to see the church and the castle. + +The vicarage and churchyard were so pleasantly situated, and the latter +looked so green and shady, that she was disappointed to find the inside +of the church very bare and neglected-looking, while the damp earthy +atmosphere spoke of infrequent services. + +There were urgent need of repairs, and a general shabbiness of detail +that was pitiable: the high wooden pews looked comfortless, ordinary +candles evidently furnished a dim and insufficient light. Mildred felt +quite oppressed as she left the building. + +'There can be no true Church-spirit here, Richard. Fancy worshipping in +that damp, mouldy place; are there no zealous workers here, who care to +beautify their church?' + +Richard shook his head. 'We cannot complain of our want of privileges +after that. I have been speaking to my father, and I really fancy we +shall acquire a regular choir next year, and if so we shall turn out the +Morrisons and Gunnings. My father is over-lenient to people's +prejudices; it grieves him to disturb long-rooted customs.' + +'Where are we going now, Richard?' + +'To Brough Castle; the ruin stands on a little hill just by; it is one +of the celebrated Countess of Pembroke's castles. You know the legend, +Aunt Milly?' + +'No, I cannot say that I do.' + +'She seems to have been a strong-minded person, and was always building +castles. It was prophesied that as long as she went on building she +would not die, and in consequence her rage for castle-building increased +with her age; but at last there was a severe frost, during which no work +could be carried on, and so the poor countess died.' + +'What a lovely view there is from here, Richard.' + +'Yes, that long level of green to our left is where the celebrated +Brough fair is held. The country people use it as a date, "last Brough +Hill," as they say--the word "Brough" comes from "Brugh," a +fortification. My father has written a very clever paper on the origin +of the names of places; it is really very interesting.' + +'Some of the names are so quaint--"Smardale," for example.' + +'Let me see, that has a Danish termination, and means +Butter-dale--"dale" from "dal," a valley; Garsdale, grass-dale; +Sleddale, from "slet," plain, the open level plain or dale, and so on. I +recollect my father told us that "Kirkby," on the contrary, is always of +Christian origin, as "Kirkby Stephen," and "Kirkby Kendal;" but perhaps +you are not fond of etymology, Aunt Milly.' + +'On the contrary, it is rather a favourite study of mine; go on, +Richard. I want to know how Kirkby Stephen got its name.' + +'I must quote my father again, then. He thinks the victorious Danes +found a kirk with houses near it, and called the place Kirkby, and they +afterwards learnt that the church was dedicated to St. Stephen, the +proto-martyr, and then added his name to distinguish it from the other +Kirkbys.' + +'It must have been rather a different church, Richard.' + +'I see I must go on quoting. He says, "We can almost picture to +ourselves that low, narrow, quaint old church, with its rude walls and +thatched roof." But, Aunt Milly, we must be thinking of returning, if we +are to call on the Trelawnys. By the bye, what do you think of them?' + +'Of Mr. Trelawny, you mean, for I certainly did not exchange three words +with his daughter.' + +'I noticed she was very silent; she generally is when he is present. +What a pity it is they do not understand each other better.' + +He seemed waiting for her to speak, but Mildred, who was taking a last +lingering look at the ruin, was slow to respond. + +'He seems very masterful,' she said at last when they had entered the +pony-carriage, and were driving homewards. + +'Yes, and what is worse, so narrow in his views. He is very kind to me, +and I get on with him tolerably well,' continued Richard, modestly; 'but +I can understand the repressing influence under which she lives.' + +'It seems so strange for a father not to understand his daughter.' + +'I believe he is fond of her in his own way; he can hardly help being +proud of her. You see, he lost his two boys when they were lads in a +dreadful way; they were both drowned in bathing, and he has never got +over their loss; it is really very hard for him, especially as his wife +died not very long afterwards. They say the shock killed her.' + +'Poor man, he has known no ordinary trouble. I can understand how lonely +it must be for her.' + +'Yes, it is all the worse that she does not care for the people about +here. With the exception of us and the Delawares, she has no friends--no +intimate friends, I mean.' + +'Her exclusiveness is to blame, then; our neighbours seem really very +kind-hearted.' + +'Yes, but they are not her sort. I think you like the Delawares +yourself, Aunt Milly?' + +'Very much. I was just going to ask you more about them. Mrs. Delaware +is very nice, but it struck me that she is not equal to her husband.' + +'No; he is a fine fellow. You see, she was only a yeoman's daughter, and +he educated her to be his wife.' + +'That accounts for her homely speech.' + +'My father married them. She was a perfect little rustic beauty, he +says. She ran away from school twice, and at last told Mr. Delaware that +he might marry her or not as he pleased, but she would have no more of +the schooling; if she were not nice enough for him, she was for Farmer +Morrison of Wharton Hall, and of course that decided the question.' + +'I hope she makes him a good wife.' + +'Very, and he is exceedingly fond of her, though she makes him uneasy at +times. Her connections are not very desirable, and she can never be made +to understand that they are to be kept in the background. I have seen +him sit on thorns during a whole evening, looking utterly wretched, +while she dragged in Uncle Greyson and Brother Ben every other moment.' + +'I wish she would dress more quietly; she looks very unlike a +clergyman's wife.' + +Richard smiled. 'Miss Trelawny is very fond of driving over to Warcop +Vicarage. She enjoys talking to Mr. Delaware, but I have noticed his +wife looks a little sad at not being able to join in their conversation; +possibly she regrets the schooling;' but here Richard's attention was +diverted by a drove of oxen, and as soon as the road was clear he had +started a new topic, which lasted till they reached their destination. + +Kirkleatham was a large red castellated building built on a slight +eminence, and delightfully situated, belted in with green meadows, and +commanding lovely views of soft distances; that from the terrace in +front of the house was especially beautiful, the church and town of +Kirkby Stephen distinctly visible, and the grouping of the dark hills at +once varied and full of loveliness. + +As they drove through the shrubbery Richard had a glimpse of a white +dress and a broad-brimmed hat, and stopping the pony-carriage, he +assisted Mildred to alight. + +'Here is Miss Trelawny, sitting under her favourite tree; you had better +go to her, Aunt Milly, while I find some one to take the mare;' and as +Mildred obeyed, Miss Trelawny laid down her book, and greeted her with +greater cordiality than she had shown on the previous visit. + +'Papa is somewhere about the grounds; you can find him,' she said when +Richard came up to them, and as he departed somewhat reluctantly, she +led Mildred to a shady corner of the lawn, where some basket-chairs, and +a round table strewn with work and books, made up a scene of rustic +comfort. + +The blue curling smoke rose from the distant town into the clear +afternoon air, the sun shone on the old church tower, the hills lay in +soft violet shadow. + +'I hope you admire our view?' asked Miss Trelawny, with her full, steady +glance at Mildred; and again Mildred noticed the peculiar softness, as +well as brilliancy, of her eyes. 'I think it is even more beautiful than +that which you see from the vicarage windows. Mr. Lambert and I have +often had a dispute on that subject.' + +'But you have not the river--that gives such a charm to ours. I would +not exchange those snatches of silvery brightness for your greater +distances. What happiness beautiful scenery affords! hopeless misery +seems quite incompatible with those ranges of softly-tinted hills.' + +A pensive--almost a melancholy--look crossed Miss Trelawny's face. + +'The worst of it is, that our moods and Nature's do not always +harmonise; sometimes the sunshine has a chilling brightness when we are +not exactly attuned to it. One must be really susceptible--in fact, an +artist--if one could find happiness in the mere circumstance of living +in a beautiful district like ours.' + +'I hope you do not undervalue your privileges,' returned Mildred, +smiling. + +'No, I am never weary of expatiating on them; but all the same, one asks +a little more of life.' + +'In what way?' + +'In every possible way,' arching her brows, with a sort +of impatience. 'What do rational human beings generally +require?--work--fellowship--possible sympathy.' + +'All of which are to be had for the asking. Nay, my dear Miss Trelawny,' +as Ethel's slight shrug of the shoulders testified her dissent, 'where +human beings are more or less congregated, there can be no lack of +these.' + +'They may possibly differ in the meaning we attach to our words. I am +not speaking of the labour market, which is already glutted.' + +'Nor I.' + +'The question is,' continued the young philosopher, wearily, 'of what +possible use are nine-tenths of the unmarried women? half of them marry +to escape from the unbearable routine and vacuum of their lives.' + +Ethel spoke with such mournful candour, that Mildred's first feeling of +astonishment changed into pity--so young and yet so cynical--and with +such marginal wastes of unfulfilled purpose. + +'When there is so much trouble and faultiness in the world,' she +answered, 'there must be surely work enough to satisfy the most hungry +nature. Have you not heard it asserted, Miss Trelawny, that nature +abhors a vacuum?' + +To her surprise, a shade crossed Miss Trelawny's face. + +'You talk so like our village Mentor, that I could almost fancy I were +listening to him. Are there no duties but the seven corporal works of +mercy, Miss Lambert? Is the intellect to play no part in the bitter +comedy of women's lives?' + +'You would prefer tragedy?' questioned Mildred, with a slight twitching +of the corner of her mouth. It was too absurdly incongruous to hear this +girl, radiant with health, and glorying in her youth, speaking of the +bitter comedy of life. Mildred began to accuse her in her own mind of +unreal sentiment, and the vaporous utterings of girlish spleen; but +Ethel's intense earnestness disarmed her of this suspicion. + +'I have no respect for the people; they are utterly brutish and +incapable of elevation. I am horrifying you, Miss Lambert, but indeed I +am not speaking without proof. At one time I took great interest in the +parish, and used to hold mothers' meetings--pleasant evenings for the +women. I used to give them tea, and let them bring their needlework, on +condition they listened to my reading. Mr. Lambert approved of my plan; +he only stipulated that as I was so very young--in age, I suppose, he +meant--that Miss Prissy Ortolan should assist me.' + +'And it was an excellent idea,' returned Mildred, warmly. + +'Yes, but it proved an utter failure,' sighed Ethel. 'The women liked +the tea, and I believe they got through a great deal of needlework, only +Miss Prissy saw after that; but they cared no more for the reading than +Minto would,' stooping down to pat the head of a large black retriever +that lay at her feet. 'I had planned a course of progressive +instruction, that should combine information with amusement; but I found +they preferred their own gossip. I asked one woman, who looked more +intelligent than the others, how she had liked Jean Ingelow's beautiful +poem, "Two Brothers and a Sermon," which I had thought simple enough to +suit even their comprehensions, and she replied, "Eh, it was fine drowsy +stuff, and would rock off half-a-dozen crying babies."' + +Mildred smiled. + +'I gave it up after that. I believe Miss Tabitha and Miss Prissy manage +it. They read little tracts to them, and the women do not talk half so +much; but it's very disheartening to think one's theory had failed.' + +'You soared a little beyond them, you see.' + +'I suppose so; but I thought their life was prosaic enough; but here +comes my father and Richard. I see they have Dr. Heriot with them.' + +Ethel spoke quietly, but Mildred thought there was a slight change in +her manner, which became less animated. + +Dr. Heriot looked both surprised and pleased when he saw Mildred; he +placed himself beside her, and listened with great interest to the +account of their afternoon's drive. On this occasion, Mildred's quiet +fluency did not desert her. + +Mr. Trelawny was less stiff and ceremonious in his own house; he +insisted, with old-fashioned politeness, that they should remain for +some refreshment, and he himself conducted Mildred to the top of the +tower, from which there was an extensive view. + +On their return, they found a charming little tea-table set out under +the trees; and Ethel, in her white gown, with pink May blossoms in her +hair, was crossing the lawn with Richard. Dr. Heriot was still lounging +complacently in his basket-chair. + +Ethel made a charming hostess; but she spoke very little to any one but +Richard, who hovered near her, with a happy boyish-looking face. Mildred +had never seen him to such advantage; he looked years younger, when the +grave restraint of his manners relaxed a little; and she was struck by +the unusual softness of his dark eyes. In his best moods, Richard was +undoubtedly attractive in the presence of elder men. He showed a modest +deference to their opinions, and at the same time displayed such +intelligence, that Mildred felt secretly proud of him. He was evidently +a great favourite with Mr. Trelawny and his daughter. Ethel constantly +appealed to him, and the squire scolded him for coming so seldom. + +The hour was a pleasant one, and Mildred thoroughly enjoyed it. Just as +they were dispersing, and the pony-carriage was coming round, Dr. Heriot +approached Ethel. + +'Well, have you been to see poor Jessie?' he asked, a little anxiously. + +Miss Trelawny shook her head. + +'You know I never promised,' she returned, as though trying to defend +herself. + +'I never think it fair to extort promises--people's better moods so +rapidly pass away. If you remember, I only advised you to do so. I +thought it would do you both good.' + +'You need not rank us in the same category,' she returned, proudly; 'you +are such a leveller of classes, Dr. Heriot.' + +'Forgive me, but when you reach Jessie's standard of excellence, I would +willingly do so. Jessie is a living proof of my theory--that we are all +equal--and the education and refinement on which you lay such stress are +only adventitious adjuncts to our circumstances. In one sense--we are +old friends, Miss Trelawny; and I may speak plainly, I know--I consider +Jessie greatly your superior.' + +A quick sensitive colour rose to Ethel's face. They were walking through +the shrubbery; and for a moment she turned her long neck aside, as +though to hide her pained look; but she answered, calmly-- + +'We differ so completely in our estimates of things; I am quite aware +how high I stand in Dr. Heriot's opinion.' + +'Are you sure of that?' answering her with the sort of amused gentleness +with which one would censure a child. 'I am apt to keep my thoughts to +myself, and am not quite so easy to read as you are, Miss Trelawny. So +you will not go and see my favourite Jessie?' with a persuasive smile. + +'No,' she said, colouring high; 'I am not in the mood for it.' + +'Then we will say no more about it; and my remedy has failed.' But +though he talked pleasantly to her for the remainder of the way, Mildred +noticed he had his grave look, and that Ethel failed to rally her +spirits. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE RUSH-BEARING + + 'Heigho! daises and buttercups, + Fair yellow daffodils, stately and tall, + A sunshiny world full of laughter and leisure, + And fresh hearts unconscious of sorrow and thrall! + Send down on their pleasure smiles passing its measure, + God that is over us all.'--Jean Ingelow. + + +Mildred soon became accustomed to Dr. Heriot's constant presence about +the house, and the slight restraint she had at first felt rapidly wore +off. + +She soon looked upon it as a matter of course to see him at least three +evenings in the week; loneliness was not to his taste, and in +consequence, when he was not otherwise engaged, he generally shared +their evening meal at the vicarage, and remained an hour afterwards, +talking to Mr. Lambert or Richard. Mildred ceased to start with surprise +at finding him in the early morning turning over the books in her +brother's study, or helping Polly and Chriss in their new fernery. Polly +was made happy by frequent invitations to her guardian's house, where +she soon made herself at home, coming back to Mildred with delightful +accounts of how her guardian had allowed her to dust his books and mend +his gloves; and how he had approved of the French coffee she had made +him. + +One afternoon Chriss and she had been in the kitchen, concocting all +sorts of delicious messes, which Dr. Heriot, Cardie, and Roy were +expected to eat afterwards. + +Dr. Heriot gave an amusingly graphic account of the feast afterwards to +Mildred, and his old housekeeper's astonishment at 'them nasty and +Frenchified dishes.' + +Polly had carried in the omelette herself, and placed it with a flushed, +triumphant face before him, her dimpled elbows still whitened with +flour; the dishes were all charmingly garlanded with flowers and +leaves--tiny breast-knots of geranium and heliotrope lay beside each +plate. Polly had fastened a great cream-coloured rose into Olive's +drooping braids, which she wore reluctantly. + +'I wish you could have seen it all, Miss Lambert; it was the prettiest +thing possible; they had transformed my bachelor's den into a perfect +bower. Roy must have helped them, and given some of his artistic +touches. There were great trailing sprays of ivy, and fern-fronds in my +terra-cotta vases, and baskets of wild roses and ox-eyed daisies; never +was my _fete_ day so charmingly inaugurated before. The worst of it was +that Polly expected me to taste all her dishes in succession; and Chriss +insisted on my eating a large slice of the frosted cake.' + +Mildred was not present at Dr. Heriot's birthday party; she had +preferred staying with her brother, but she found he had not forgotten +her; the guests were surprised in their turn by finding a handsome gift +beside each plate, a print that Roy had long coveted, Trench on +_Parables_ for Richard, Schiller's works for Olive, a neat little +writing-desk for Polly, and a silk-lined work-basket for Chriss, who +coloured and looked uncomfortable over the gift. Polly had orders to +carry a beautiful book on Ferns to Aunt Milly, and a slice of the +iced-cake with Dr. Heriot's compliments, and regrets that she had not +tasted the omelette--a message that Polly delivered with the utmost +solemnity. + +'Oh, it was so nice, Aunt Milly; Dr. Heriot is so good and indulgent. I +think he is the best man living--just to please us he let us serve up +the coffee in those beautiful cups without handles, that he values so, +and that have cost I don't know how much money; and Olive dropped hers +because she said it burnt her fingers, and broke it all to fragments. +Livy looked ready to cry, but Dr. Heriot only laughed, and would not let +Cardie scold her.' + +'That was kind of Dr. Heriot.' + +'He is never anything but kind. I am sure some of the things disagreed +with him, but he would taste them all; and then afterwards--oh, Aunt +Milly, it was so nice--we sang glees in the twilight, and when it got +quite dark, he told us a splendid ghost-story--only it turned out a +dream--which spoilt it rather; and laughed at Chrissy and me because we +looked a little pale when the lamp came in. I am sure Richard enjoyed it +as well as us, for he rubbed his hands and said, "Excellent," when he +had finished.' + +Mildred looked at her book when the girls had retired, fairly wearied +with chattering. It was just what she had wanted. How thoughtful of Dr. +Heriot. Her name was written in full; and for the first time she had a +chance of criticising the bold, clear handwriting. 'From a family +friend--John Heriot,' was written just underneath. After all, had it not +been a little churlish of her to refuse going with the children? The +evening had gone very heavily with her; her brother had been in one of +his taciturn moods and had retired to his room early; and finding the +house empty, and somewhat desolate, she had betaken herself to the +moonlighted paths of the churchyard, and had more than once wished she +could peep in unseen on the party. + +It was not long afterwards that Mildred was induced to partake of Dr. +Heriot's hospitality. + +It was the day before the Castlesteads Rush-bearing. Mildred was in the +town with Olive and Polly, when, just as they were turning the corner by +the King's Arms, a heavy shower came on; and Dr. Heriot, who was +entering his own door, beckoned to them to run across and take shelter. + +Dr. Heriot's house stood in a secluded corner of the market-place, +behind the King's Arms; the bank was on the left-hand side, and from the +front windows there was a good view of the market-place, the town pump, +and butter market, and the quaint, old-fashioned shops. + +The shops of Kirkby Stephen drove a brisk trade, in spite of the sleepy +air that pervaded them, and the curious intermixture of goods that they +patronised. + +The confectioner's was also a china shop, and there was a millinery room +upstairs, while the last new music was only procurable at the tin shop. +Jams and groceries could be procured at the druggist's, while the +fashionable milliner of the town was also the postmistress. On certain +days the dull little butcher's shop, with its picturesque gable and +overhanging balcony, was guileless of anything but its chopping-blocks, +and perhaps the half-carcase of a sheep; beef was not always to be had +for the asking, a fact which London housekeepers were slow to +understand. + +On Mondays the town wore a more thriving appearance; huge wagons blocked +up the market-place, stalls containing all sorts of wares occupied the +central area, the countrywomen sold chickens and eggs, and tempting +rolls of fresh butter, the gentlemen farmers congregated round the +King's Arms; towards afternoon, horse-dealers tried their horses' paces +up and down the long street, while the village curs made themselves +conspicuous barking at their heels. + +'I hope you will always make use of me in this way,' said Dr. Heriot, as +he shook Mildred's wet cloak, and ushered them into the hall; 'the rain +has damped you already, but I hope it is only a passing shower for the +little rush-bearers' sakes to-morrow.' + +'The barometer points to fair,' observed Polly, anxiously. + +'Yes, and this shower will do all the good in the world, lay the dust, +and render your long drive enjoyable. Ah! Miss Lambert, you have found +out why Olive honours me by so many visits,' as Mildred glanced round +the large handsome hall, fitted up by glass bookcases; and with its +carpeted floor and round table, and brackets of blue dragon china +looking thoroughly comfortable. + +'This is my dining-room and consulting-room; my surgery is elsewhere,' +continued Dr. Heriot. 'My drawing-room is so little used, that I am +afraid Marjory often forgets to draw up the blinds.' And he showed +Mildred the low-ceiled pleasant rooms, well-furnished, and tastefully +arranged; but the drawing-room having the bare disused air of a room +that a woman's footstep seldom enters. Mildred longed to droop the +curtain into less stiff folds, and to fill the empty vases with flowers. + +Polly spoke out her thought immediately afterwards. + +'I mean to come in every morning on my way to school, and pull up the +blinds, and fill that china bowl with roses. Marjory won't mind anything +I do.' + +'Your labour will be wasted, Polly,' returned her guardian, rather +sadly. 'No one but Mrs. Sadler, or Miss Ortolan, or perhaps Mrs. +Northcote, ever sits on that yellow couch. Your roses would waste their +sweetness on the desert air; no one would look at them, or smell them; +but it is a kind thought, little one,' with a gentle, approving smile. + +'Which room was the scene of Polly's feast?' asked Mildred, curiously. + +'Oh, the den--I mean the room I generally inhabit; it is snug, and opens +into the conservatory; and I have grown to like it somehow. Now, Polly, +you must make us some tea; but the question is, will you favour the +yellow couch and the empty rose-bowls, Miss Lambert, or do you prefer +the dining-room?' + +'Dr. Heriot, what do you mean by treating Aunt Milly so stiffly? of +course we shall have tea in the den, as usual.' But he interrupted her +by a brief whisper in her ear, which made her laugh and clap her hands. +Evidently there was some delightful secret between them, for Polly's +eyes sparkled as she stood holding his arm with both hands; and even Dr. +Heriot's twinkled with amusement. + +'Miss Lambert, Polly wants to know if you can keep a secret? I don't +think you look dangerous, so you shall be shown the mystery of the den.' + +'Does Olive know?' asked Mildred, looking at the girl as she sat +hunching her shoulders, as usual, over a book. + +'Yes, but she does not approve. Olive never approves of anything nice,' +returned Polly, saucily. 'Let us go very quietly; he generally whistles +so loudly that he never hears anything;' and as Polly softly opened the +door, very clear, sweet whistling was distinctly audible. + +There was a little glass-house beyond the cosy room they were entering; +and there, amongst flowers and canaries, and gaily-striped awning, in +his old blue cricketing coat, was Roy painting. + +Dr. Heriot beckoned Mildred to come nearer, and she had ample leisure to +admire the warm sunshiny tints of a small landscape, to which he was +putting finishing touches, until the melodious whistling ceased, and an +exclamation of delight from Polly made him turn round. + +'Aunt Milly, this is too bad; you have stolen a march on me;' and Roy's +fair face was suffused for a moment. 'I owe Dr. John a grudge for this,' +threatening him with his palette and brush. + +Polly could not resist the pleasure of showing her aunt the mysteries of +Bluebeard's den. 'When you miss your boy, you will know where to find +him in future, Miss Lambert.' + +'Roy, dear, you must not be vexed. I had no idea Polly's secret had +anything to do with you,' said Mildred, gently. 'Dr. Heriot is very good +to allow you to make use of this pleasant studio.' + +Roy's brow cleared like magic. + +'I am glad you think so. I was only afraid you would talk nonsense, as +Livy does, about waste of time, and hiding talents under a bushel. +Holloa, Livy, I did not know you were there; no offence intended; but +you do talk an awful quantity of rubbish sometimes.' + +'I only said it was a pity you did not tell papa about it; your being an +artist, I mean,' answered Olive, mildly; but Roy interrupted her +impatiently. + +'You know I cannot bear disappointing him, but of course it has to be +told. Aunt Milly, do you think my father would ask Dad Fabian down to +see Polly? I should so like to have a talk with him. You see, Dr. John +is only an amateur; he cannot tell me if I am ever likely to be an +artist,' finished Roy, a little despondingly. + +'I am not much of a critic, but I like your picture, Roy; it looks so +fresh and sunny. I could almost feel as though I were sitting down on +that mossy bank; and that little girl in her red cloak is charming.' + +Roy coloured bashfully over the praise. + +'I tell him that with his few advantages he does wonders; he has only +picked up desultory lessons here and there,' observed Dr. Heriot. + +'That old fellow at Sedbergh taught me to grind colours, and I fell in +with an artist at York once. I don't mind you knowing a bit, Aunt Milly; +only'--lowering his voice so as not to be heard by the others--'I want +to get an opinion worth having, and be sure I am not only the dabbler +Dick thinks me, before I bother the Padre about it; but I shall do no +good at anything else, let Dick say what he will;' a touch of defiance +and hopelessness in his voice, very different from his ordinary saucy +manners. Evidently Roy was in earnest for once in his life. + +'You are quite right, Roy; it is the most beautiful life in the world,' +broke in Polly, enthusiastically. 'It is nobler to try at that and fail, +than to be the most successful lawyer in the world.' + +'The gentlemen of the robe would thank you, Polly. Do you know, I have a +great respect for a learned barrister.' + +'All that Polly knows about them is, they wear a wig and carry a blue +bag,' observed Roy, with one of his odd chuckles. + +'What a Bohemian you are, Polly.' + +'I like what is best and brightest and most loveable in life,' returned +Polly, undauntedly. 'I think you are an artist by nature, because you +care so much for beautiful scenery, and are so quick to see different +shades and tints of colouring. Dad Fabian is older, and grander, +far--but you talk a little like him, Roy; your words have the same ring, +somehow.' + +'Polly is a devout believer in Roy's capabilities,' observed Dr. Heriot, +half-seriously and half-laughing. 'You are fortunate, Roy, to have +inspired so much faith already; it must warm up your landscapes and +brighten your horizons for you. After all, there is nothing like +sympathy in this world,' with a scarcely audible sigh. + +'Dr. Heriot, tea is ready,' broke in Polly, with one of her quick +transitions from enthusiasm to matter-of-fact reality, as she moved as +though by right to her place at the head of the table, and looked as +though she expected her guardian to seat himself as usual beside her; +while Dr. Heriot drew up a comfortable rocking-chair for Mildred. +Certainly the den presented a cheerful aspect to-night; the little +glass-house, as Dr. Heriot generally termed it, with its easel and +flowers, and its pleasant glimpse of the narrow garden and blue hills +behind, looked picturesque in the afternoon light; the rain had ceased, +the canaries burst into loud song, there was a delicious fragrance of +verbena and heliotrope; Roy stretched his lazy length on the little red +couch, his fair head in marked contrast with Mildred's brown coils; a +great crimson-hearted rose lay beside her plate. + +Dr. Heriot's den certainly lacked no visible comfort; there were +easy-chairs for lounging, small bookcases filled with favourite books, a +writing-table, and a marble stand, with a silver reading-lamp, that gave +the softest possible light; one or two choice prints enlivened the +walls. Dr. Heriot evidently kept up a luxurious bachelor's life, for the +table was covered with good things; and Mildred ventured to praise the +excellent Westmorland cakes. + +'Marjory makes better girdle-cakes than Nan,' observed Polly. 'Do you +know what my guardian calls them, Aunt Milly?' + +'You should allow Miss Lambert to finish hers first,' remonstrated Dr. +Heriot. + +'He calls them "sudden deaths."' + +'Miss Lambert is looking quite pale, and laying down hers. I must help +myself to some to reassure her;' and Dr. Heriot suited his action to his +words. 'I perfectly scandalise Marjory by telling her they are very +unwholesome, but she only says, "Hod tongue o' ye, doctor; t' kyuks are +au weel enuff; en'ill hurt nin o' ye, if y'ill tak 'em i' moderation."' + +'I think Marjory is much of a muchness with Nan in point of obstinacy.' + +'Nan's habits bewilder me,' observed Mildred. 'She eats so little flesh +meat, as she calls it; and whatever time I go into the kitchen, she +seems perpetually at tea.' + +'Ay, four o'clock tea is the great meal of the day; the servants +certainly care very little for meat here. I am often surprised, when I +go into the cottages, to see the number of cakes just freshly baked; it +is the most tempting meal they have. The girdle-cakes, and the little +black teapot on the hob, and not unfrequently a great pile of brown +toast, have often struck me as so appetising after a cold, wet ride, +that I have often shared a bit and a sup with them. Have you ever heard +of Kendal wigs, Miss Lambert?' + +Mildred shook her head. + +'They are very favourite cakes. Many a farmer's wife on a market-day +thinks her purchases incomplete without bringing home a goodly quantity +of wigs. I am rather fond of them myself. All my oat-bread, or +havre-bread as they call it, is sent me by an old patient who lives at +Kendal. Do you know there is a quaint proverb, very much used here, "as +crafty as a Kendal fox"?' + +'What is the origin of that?' asked Mildred, much amused. + +'Well, it is doubtful. It may owe its origin to some sly old Reynard who +in days long since "escaped the hunter many times and oft;" or it might +possibly originate in some family of the name of Fox living at Kendal, +and noted for their business habits and prudence. There are two proverbs +peculiar to this country.' + +'You mean the Pendragon one,' observed Roy. + +'Yes.' + + 'Let Uter Pendragon do what he can, + Eden will run where Eden ran.' + +'You look mystified, Miss Lambert; but at Pendragon Castle in +Mallerstang there may still be seen traces of an attempt to turn the +waters of Eden from their natural and wonted channel, and cause them to +flow round the castle and fill the moat.' + +'How curious!' + +'Proverbs have been rightly defined "as the wisdom of the many and the +wit of one." In one particular I believe this saying has a deep truth +hidden in it. One who has studied the Westmorland character, says that +its meaning is, that the people living on the banks of the Eden are as +firm and persevering in their own way as the river itself; and that when +they have once made up their minds as to what is their duty, all +attempts to turn them aside from walking in the right way and doing +their duty are equally futile.' + +'Hurrah for the Edenites!' exclaimed Roy, enthusiastically. 'I don't +believe there is a county in England to beat Westmorland.' + +'I must tell you what a quaint old writer says of it. "Here is cold +comfort from nature," he writes, "but somewhat of warmth from industry: +that the land is barren is God's good pleasure; the people painful +(_i.e._ painstaking), their praise." But I am afraid I must not +enlighten your minds any more on proverbial philosophy, as it is time +for me to set off on my evening round. A doctor can use scant ceremony, +Miss Lambert.' + +'It is time you dismissed us,' returned Mildred, rising; 'we have +trespassed too long on your time already;' but, in spite of her efforts, +she failed to collect her party. Only Olive accompanied her home. Roy +returned to his painting and whistling, and Polly stayed behind to water +the flowers and keep him company. + +The next day proved fine and cloudless, and at the appointed time the +old vicarage wagonette started off, with its bevy of boys and girls, +with Mildred to act as _chaperone_. + +Mildred was loath to leave her brother alone for so long a day, but Dr. +Heriot promised to look in on him, and bring her a report in the +afternoon. + +The drive to Castlesteads was a long one, but Roy was in one of his +absurd moods, and Polly and he kept up a lively exchange of _repartee_ +and jest, which amused the rest of the party. On their way they passed +Musgrave, the church and vicarage lying pleasantly in the green meadows, +on the very banks of the Eden; but Roy snorted contemptuously over +Mildred's admiring exclamation-- + +'It looks very pretty from this distance, and would make a tolerable +picture; and I don't deny the walk by the river-bank is pleasant enough +in summer-time, but you would be sorry to live there all the year round, +Aunt Milly.' + +'Is the vicarage so comfortless, then?' + +'Vicarage! It is little better than a cottage. It is positively bare, +and mean, miserable little wainscoted rooms looking on a garden full of +currant-bushes and London-pride. In winter the river floods the meadows, +and comes up to the sitting-room window; just a place for rheumatism and +agues and low fevers. I wonder Mr. Wigram can endure it!' + +'There are the Northcotes overtaking us, Cardie,' interrupted Chriss, +eagerly; 'give the browns a touch-up; I don't want them to pass us.' + +Richard did as he was requested, and the browns evidently resenting the +liberty, there was soon a good distance between the two wagonettes; and +shortly afterwards the pretty little village of Castlesteads came in +sight, with its beeches and white cottages and tall May-pole. + +'There is no time to be lost, Cardie. I can hear the band already. We +must make straight for the park.' + +'We had better get down and walk, then, while George sees to the horses, +or we shall lose the procession. Come, Aunt Milly, we are a little late, +I am afraid; and we must introduce you to Mrs. Chesterton of the Hall in +due form.' + +Mildred obeyed, and the little party hurried along the road, where knots +of gaily-dressed people were already stationed to catch the first +glimpse of the rush-bearers. The park gates were wide open, and a group +of ladies, with a tolerable sprinkling of gentlemen, were gathered under +the shady trees. + +Mr. Delaware came striding across the grass in his cassock, with his +college cap in his hand. + +'You are only just in time,' he observed, shaking hands cordially with +Mildred; 'the children are turning the corner by the schools. I must go +and meet them. Susie, will you introduce Miss Lambert to these ladies?' + +Mrs. Chesterton of the Hall was a large, placid-looking woman, with a +motherly, benevolent face; she was talking to a younger lady, in very +fashionable attire, whom Mrs. Delaware whispered was Mrs. de Courcy, of +the Grange: her husband, Major de Courcy, was at a little distance, with +Mr. Chesterton and the Trelawnys. + +Mildred had just time to bow to Ethel, when the loud, inspiriting blare +of brazen instruments was heard outside the park gates. There was a +burst of joyous music, and a faint sound of cheering, and then came the +procession of children, with their white frocks and triumphant crowns. + +The real garland used for the rush-bearing is of the shape of the old +coronation crowns, and was formerly so large that it was borne by each +child on a cushion; and even at the present time it was too weighty an +ornament to be worn with comfort. + +One little maiden had recourse to her mother's support, and many a +little hand went up to steady the uneasy diadem. + +Mildred, who had never seen such a sight, was struck with the beauty and +variety of the crowns. Some were of brilliant scarlet and white, such as +covered May Chesterton's fair curls; others were of softer violet. One +was of beautifully-shaped roses; and another and humbler one of +heliotrope and large-eyed pansies. Even the cottage garlands were woven +with taste and fancy. One of the poorest children, gleaning in lanes and +fields, had formed her crown wholly of buttercups and ox-eyed daisies, +and wore it proudly. + +A lame boy, who had joined the procession, carried his garland in the +shape of a large cross, which he held aloft. Mildred watched the bright +colours of moving flowers through the trees, and listened to the music +half-dreamily, until Richard touched her arms. + +'Every one is following the procession. You will lose the prettiest part +of the whole, if you stand here, Aunt Milly; the children always have a +dance before they go into church.' And so saying, he piloted her through +the green park in the direction of the crowd. + +By and by, they came to a little strip of lawn, pleasantly shaded by +trees, and here they found the rush-bearers drawn up in line, with the +crowns at their feet; the sun was shining, the butterflies flitted over +the children's heads, the music struck up gaily, the garlands lay in +purple and crimson splashes of colour on the green sward. + +'Wouldn't it make a famous picture?' whispered Roy, eagerly. 'I should +like to paint it, and send it to the Royal Academy--"The Westmorland +Rush-bearing." Doesn't May look a perfect fairy in her white dress, with +her curls falling over her neck? That rogue of a Claude has chosen her +for his partner. There, they are going to have lemonade and cake, and +then they will "trip on the light, fantastic toe," till the church bells +ring;' but Mildred was too much absorbed to answer. The play of light +and shadow, the shifting colours, the children's innocent faces and +joyous laughter, the gaping rustics on the outside of the circle, +charmed and interested her. She was sorry when the picture was broken +up, and Mr. Delaware and the other clergy formed the children into an +orderly procession again. + +Mildred and Richard were the last to enter the church, but Miss Trelawny +made room for them beside her. The pretty little church was densely +crowded, and there was quite an inspiring array of clergy and choristers +when the processional hymn was sung. Mr. Delaware gave an appropriate +and very eloquent address, and during a pause in the service the +church-wardens collected the garlands from the children, which were +placed by the officiating priest and the assistant clergy on the +altar-steps, or on the sloping sills of the chancel windows, or even on +the floor of the sanctuary itself, the sunshine lighting up with vivid +hues the many-coloured crowns. + +These were left until the following day, when they were placed on a +frame made for the purpose at the other end of the church, and there +they hung until the next rush-bearing day; the brown drooping leaves and +faded flowers bearing solemn witness of the mutability and decay of all +earthly things. + +But as Mildred looked at the altar-steps, crowded with the fragrant and +innocent offerings of the children, so solemnly blessed and accepted, +and heard the fresh young voices lifted up in the crowning hymn of +praise, there came to her remembrance some lines she had heard sung in +an old city church, when the broidered bags, full of rich offerings, had +been laid on the altar:-- + + 'Holy offerings rich and rare, + Offerings of praise and prayer, + Purer life and purpose high, + Clasped hands and lifted eye, + Lowly acts of adoration + To the God of our salvation. + On His altar laid we leave them, + Christ present them! God receive them!' + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +AN AFTERNOON IN CASTLESTEADS + + 'The fields were all i' vapour veil'd + Till, while the warm, breet rays assail'd, + Up fled the leet, grey mist. + The flowers expanded one by one, + As fast as the refreshing sun + Their dewy faces kiss'd. + + * * * * * + + 'And pleasure danced i' mony an e'e + An' mony a heart, wi' mirth and glee + Thus flutter'd and excited-- + An' this was t' cause, ye'll understand + Some friends a grand picnic had plann'd, + An' they had been invited.' + + _Tom Twisleton's Poems in the Craven Dialect._ + + +It had been arranged that Mildred should form one of the luncheon-party +at the vicarage, and that Richard should accompany her, while the rest +of the young people were regaled at the Hall, where pretty May +Chesterton held a sort of court. + +The pleasant old vicarage was soon crowded with gaily-dressed +guests--amongst them Mr. Trelawny and his daughter, and the Heaths of +Brough. + +Mildred, who had a predilection for old houses, found the vicarage much +to her taste; she liked the quaint dimly-lighted rooms, with their deep +embrasures, forming small inner rooms--while every window looked on the +trim lawn and churchyard. + +At luncheon she found herself under Mr. Delaware's special supervision, +and soon had abundant opportunity of admiring the straightforward common +sense and far-seeing views that had gained him universal esteem; he was +evidently no mean scholar, but what struck Mildred was the simplicity +and reticence that veiled his vast knowledge and made him an +appreciative listener. Miss Trelawny, who was seated at his right hand, +monopolised the greater share of his attentions, and Mildred fancied +that her _naivete_ and freshness were highly attractive, as every now +and then an amused smile crossed his face. + +Mrs. Delaware bloomed at them from the end of the table. She was rather +more quietly dressed and looked prettier than ever, but Mildred noticed +that the uneasy look, of which Richard had spoken, crossed her husband's +face, as her voice, by no means gently modulated, reached his ears; +evidently he had a vexed sort of affection for the happy dimpling +creature, who offended all his pet prejudices, wounded his too sensitive +refinement, and disturbed the established _regime_ of his scholarly +life. + +Susie's creams and roses were unimpeachable, and her voice had the clear +freshness of a lark, but dearly as he might love her, she could hardly +be a companion to her husband in his higher moods--the keynote of +sympathy must be wanting between this strangely-assorted couple, Mildred +thought, and she wondered if any vague regrets for that youthful romance +of his marred the possible harmonies of the present. + +Would not a richly-cultivated mind like Ethel Trelawny's, for example, +with strong original bias and all kinds of motiveless asceticism, have +accorded better with his notions of womanly perfection, the classic +features and low-pitched voice gaining by contrast with Susie's loud +tuneful key and waste of bloom? + +By an odd coincidence Mildred found herself alone with Mrs. Delaware +after luncheon; the other ladies had already gone over to the park with +the vicar, but his wife, who had been detained by some unavoidable +business, had asked Mildred to wait for her. + +Presently she appeared flushed and radiant. + +'It is so good of you to wait, Miss Lambert; Stephen is so particular, +and I was afraid things might go wrong as they did last year; I suppose +he has gone on with the others.' + +'Yes.' + +'And Miss Trelawny?' + +'I believe so.' + +Mrs. Delaware's bright face fell a little. + +'Miss Trelawny is a rare talker, at least Stephen says so; but I never +understand whether she is in fun or earnest; she must be clever, though, +or Stephen would not say so much in her praise.' + +'I think she amuses him.' + +'Stephen does not care for amusement, he is always so terribly in +earnest. Sometimes they talk for hours, till my head quite aches with +listening to them. Do you think women ought to be so clever, Miss +Lambert?' continued Susie, a little wistfully; and Mildred thought what +a sweet face she had, and wondered less over Mr. Delaware's +choice--after all, blue eyes, when they are clear and loving, have a +potent charm of their own. + +'I do not know that Miss Trelawny is so very clever,' she returned; 'she +is original, but not quite restful; I could understand that she would +tire most men.' + +'But not men like my Stephen,' betraying in her simplicity some hidden +irritation. + +'Possibly not for an hour or two, only by continuance. The cleverest man +I ever knew,' continued Mildred artfully, 'married a woman without an +idea beyond housekeeping; he was an astronomer, and she used to sit +working beside him, far into the night, while he carried on his abstruse +calculations; he was a handsome man, and she was quite ordinary-looking, +but they were the happiest couple I ever knew.' + +'Maybe she loved him dearly,' returned Susie simply, but Mildred saw a +glittering drop or two on her long eyelashes; and just then they reached +the park gates, where they found Mr. Delaware waiting for them. + +The park now presented a gay aspect, the sun shone on the old Hall and +its trimly-kept gardens, its parterres blazing with scarlet geraniums, +and verbenas, and heliotropes, and its shady winding walks full of happy +groups. + +On the lawn before the Hall the band was playing, and rustic couples +were already arranging themselves for the dance, tea was brewing in the +great white tent, with its long tables groaning with good cheer, +children were playing amongst the trees; in the meadow below the sports +were held--the hound trail, pole-leaping, long-leaping, trotting-matches +and wrestling filling up the afternoon. + +Mildred was watching the dancers when she heard herself accosted by +name; there was no mistaking those crisp tones, they could belong to no +other than Ethel Trelawny. + +Miss Trelawny was looking remarkably well to-day, her cheeks had a soft +bloom, and the rippling dark-brown hair strayed most becomingly from +under the little white bonnet; she looked brighter, happier, more +animated. + +'I thought you were busy in the tent, Miss Trelawny.' + +Ethel laughed. + +'I gave up my place to Mrs. Cooper; it is too much to expect any one to +remain in that stiffling place four mortal hours; just fancy, Miss +Lambert, tea commences at 2 P.M. and goes on till 6.' + +'I pity the tea-makers; Mrs. Delaware is one of course.' + +'She is far from cool, but perfectly happy. Mrs. Delaware's table is +always crowded, mine was so empty that I gave it up to Mrs. Cooper in +disgust. Mr. Delaware will give me a scolding for deserting my post, but +I daresay I shall survive it. How cool it is under these trees; shall we +walk a little?' + +'If you like; but I enjoy watching those dancers.' + +'Distance will lend enchantment to the view--there is no poetry of +movement there;' pointing a little disdainfully to a clumsy bumpkin who +was violently impelling a full-blown rustic beauty through the mazes of +a waltz. + +'What is lost in grace is made up in heartiness,' returned Mildred, bent +on defending her favourite pastime. 'Look how lightly and well that girl +in the lilac muslin is dancing; she would hardly disgrace a ballroom.' + +'She looks very happy,' returned Ethel, a little enviously; 'she is one +of Mr. Delaware's favourite scholars, and I think she is engaged to that +young farmer with whom she is dancing; by the bye, have you seen Dr. +Heriot?' + +'No. I did not know he was here.' + +'He was in the tent just now looking for you. He said he had promised to +report himself as soon as he arrived. He found fault with the cup of tea +I gave him, and then he and Richard went off together.' + +Mildred smiled; she thought she knew the reason why Miss Trelawny looked +so animated. She knew Dr. Heriot was a great favourite up at +Kirkleatham, in spite of the many battles that were waged between him +and Ethel; somehow she felt glad herself that Dr. Heriot had come. + +Following Miss Trelawny's lead, they had crossed the park and the +pleasure garden, and were now in a little grove skirting the fields, +which led to a lonely summer-house, set in the heart of the green +meadows, with an enchanting view of the blue hills beyond. + +'What a lovely spot,' observed Mildred. + +'Here would my hermit spirit dwell apart,' laughed Ethel. 'What a sense +of freedom those wide hills give one. I am glad you like it,' she +continued, more simply. 'I brought you here because I saw you cared for +these sort of things.' + +'Most people care for a beautiful prospect.' + +'Yes; but theirs is mere surface admiration--yours goes deeper. Do you +know, Miss Lambert, I was wondering all luncheon time why you always +look so restful and contented?' + +'Perhaps because I am so,' returned Mildred, smiling. + +'Yes, but you have known trouble; your face says so plainly; there are +lines that have no business to be there; in some things you are older +than your age.' + +'You are a keen observer, Miss Trelawny.' + +'Do not answer me like that,' she returned, a little hurt; 'you are so +earnest yourself that you ought to allow for earnestness in others. I +knew directly I heard your voice that I should like you; does my +frankness displease you?' turning on her abruptly. + +'On the contrary, it pleases me!' replied Mildred, but she blushed a +little under the scrutiny of this strange girl. + +'You are undemonstrative, so am I to most people; but directly I saw +your face and heard you speak I knew yours was a true nature, and I was +anxious to win you for my friend; you do not know how sadly I want one,' +she continued, her voice trembling a little. 'One cannot live without +sympathy.' + +'It is not meant that we should do so,' returned Mildred, softly. + +'I believe mine to be an almost isolated case,' returned Ethel. 'No +mother, no----' she checked herself, turned pale and hurried on, 'with +only a childlike memory of what brother-love really is, and a faint-off +remembrance of a little white wasted face resting on a pillow strewn +with lilies. I was very young then, but I remember how I cried when they +told me my baby-sister was an angel in heaven.' + +'How old were you when your brothers died?' asked Mildred, gently. +Ethel's animation had died away, and a look of deep sadness now crossed +her face. + +'I was only ten, Rupert was twelve, and Sidney fourteen; such fine manly +boys, Sid. especially, and so good to me. Mamma never got over their +death; and then I lost her; it seems so lonely their leaving me behind. +Sometimes I wonder for what purpose I am left, and if I have much to +suffer before I am allowed to join them?' and Ethel's eyes grew fixed +and dreamy, till Mildred's sympathetic voice roused her. + +'I should think nothing can replace a brother. When I was young I used +to wish I were one of a large family. I remember envying a girl who told +me she had seven sisters.' + +Ethel looked up with a melancholy smile. + +'I wonder what it would be like to have a sister? I mean if Ella had +lived--she would be sixteen now. I used to have all sorts of strange +fancies about her when I was a child. Mamma once read me Longfellow's +poem of _Resignation_, and it made a great impression on me. You +remember the words, Miss Lambert?' and Ethel repeated in her fresh sweet +voice-- + + '"Not as a child shall we again behold her, + For when with raptures wild, + In our embraces we again enfold her, + She will not be a child. + + "But a fair maiden in her Father's mansion, + Clothed with celestial grace, + And beautiful with all the soul's expansion + Shall we behold her face." + +That image of progressive beatitude and expanding youth seized strongly +upon my childish imagination.' Mildred's smile was a sufficient answer, +and Ethel went on in the same dreamy tone, 'After a time the little dead +face became less distinct, and in its place I became conscious of a +strange feeling, of a new sort of sister-love. I thought of Ella growing +up in heaven, not learning the painful lessons I was so wearily learning +here, but schooled by angels in the nobler mysteries of love; and so +strong was this belief, that when I was naughty or had given way to +temper, I would cry myself to sleep, thinking that Ella would be +disappointed in me, and often I did not dare look up at the stars for +fear her eyes should be sorrowfully looking down on me. You will think +me a fanciful visionary, Miss Lambert, but this childish thought has +been my safeguard in many an hour of temptation.' + +'I would all our fancies were as pure. You need not fear that I should +laugh at you as visionary, my dear Miss Trelawny; after all you may have +laid your grasp on a great truth--there can be nothing undeveloped and +imperfect in heaven, and infancy is necessarily imperfect.' + +'I never sympathised with the crude fancies of the old masters,' +returned Miss Trelawny; 'the winged heads of their bodiless cherubs are +as unsatisfactory and impalpable as Homer's flitting shades and +shivering ghosts; but your last speech has chilled me somehow.' + +Mildred looked up in surprise; but Ethel's smile reassured her. + +'No one but my father ever calls me Ethel--to the world I am Miss +Trelawny, even Olive and Chriss are ceremonious, and latterly Mr. +Lambert has dropped the old familiar term; somehow it adds to one's +feeling of loneliness.' + +'Do you mean that you wish me to drop such ceremony?' returned Mildred, +laughing a little nervously. 'Ethel! it is a quaint name, hardly +musical, and with a suspicion of a lisp, but full of character; it suits +you somehow.' + +'Then you will use it!' exclaimed Ethel impulsively. 'We are strangers, +and yet I have talked to you this afternoon as I have never done to any +one before.' + +'There you pay me a compliment.' + +'You have such a motherly way with you, Mildred--Miss Lambert, I mean.' + +Mildred blushed, 'Please do not correct yourself.' + +'What! I may call you Mildred? how nice that will be; I shall feel as +though you are some wise elder sister, you have got such tender +old-fashioned ways, and yet they suit you somehow. I like you better, I +think, because there seems nothing young about you.' + +Ethel's speech gave Mildred a little pang--unselfish and free from +vanity as her nature was, she was still only a woman, and regret for her +passing youth shadowed her brightness for a moment. Until her mother's +death she had never given it a thought. Why did Ethel's fresh beauty and +glorious young vitality raise the faint wish, now heard for the first +time, that she were more like the youthful and fairer Mildred of long +ago? but even before Ethel had finished speaking, the unworthy thought +was banished. + +'I believe a wearing and long-continued trouble ages more than years; +women have no right to grow sober before thirty, I know. Some lighter +natures go haymaking between the tombs,' she went on quaintly, and as +Ethel looked up astonished at the strange simile--'I have borrowed my +metaphor from a homely circumstance, but as I sat working in the cool +lobby yesterday they were making hay in the sunny churchyard, and +somehow the idea seemed incongruous--the idea of gleaning sweetness and +nourishment from decay. But does it not strike you we are becoming very +philosophical--what are the little rush-bearers doing now I wonder?' + +'After all, your human sympathies are less exclusive than mine,' +returned her companion, regretfully. 'I like this cool retreat better +than the crowded park; but we are not to be left any longer in peace,' +she continued, with a slight access of colour, 'there are Dr. Heriot and +Richard bearing down on us.' Mildred was not sorry to be disturbed, as +she thought it was high time to look after Olive and Chriss, an +intention that Dr. Heriot instantly negatived by placing himself at her +side. + +'There is not the slightest necessity--they are under Mrs. Chesterton's +wing,' he remarked coolly; 'we have been searching the park and grounds +fruitlessly for an hour, till Richard hit on this spot; the hiding-place +is worthy of Miss Trelawny.' + +'You mean it is romantic enough; your words have a double edge, Dr. +Heriot.' + +'Pax,' he returned, laughingly, 'it is too hot to renew the skirmish we +carried on in the tent. I have brought you a favourable report of your +brother, Miss Lambert; Mr. Warden, an old college chum of his, had +arrived unexpectedly, and he was showing him the church.' + +One of Mildred's sweet smiles flitted over her face. + +'How good you are to take all this trouble for me, Dr. Heriot.' + +Dr. Heriot gave her an inscrutable look in which drollery came +uppermost. + +'Are you given to weigh fractional kindnesses in your neighbour? Most +people give gratitude in grains for whole ounces of avoirdupois weight; +what a grateful soul yours is, Miss Lambert.' + +'The moral being that Dr. Heriot dislikes thanks, Mildred.' + +Dr. Heriot gave a low exclamation of surprise, which evidently irritated +Miss Trelawny. 'It has come to that already, has it,' he said to himself +with an inward chuckle, but Mildred could make nothing of his look of +satisfaction and Ethel's aggravated colour. + +'Why don't you deliver us one of your favourite tirades against feminine +caprice and impulse?' observed Miss Trelawny, in a piqued voice. + +'When caprice and impulse take the form of wisdom,' was the answer in a +meaning tone, 'Mentor's office of rebuke fails.' + +Ethel arched her eyebrows slightly, 'Mentor approves then?' + +'Can you doubt it?' in a more serious tone. 'I feel we may still have +hopes of you;' then turning to Mildred, with the play of fun still in +his eyes, 'Our aside baffles you, Miss Lambert. Miss Trelawny is good +enough to style me her Mentor, which means that she has given me a right +to laugh at her nonsense and talk sense to her sometimes.' + +'You are too bad,' returned Ethel in a low voice; but she was evidently +hurt by the raillery, gentle as it was. + +'Miss Trelawny forms such extravagant ideals of men and women, that no +one but a moral Anak can possibly reach to her standard; the rest of us +have to stand tiptoe in the vain effort to raise ourselves.' + +'Dr. Heriot, how can you be so absurd?' laughed Mildred. + +'It must be very fatiguing to stand on tiptoe all one's life; perhaps we +might feel a difficulty of breathing in your rarer atmosphere, Miss +Trelawny--fancy one's ideas being always in full dress, from morning to +night. When you marry, do you always mean to dish up philosophy with +your husband's breakfast?' + +The hot colour mounted to Ethel's forehead. + +'I give you warning that he will yawn over it sometimes, and refresh +himself by talking to his dogs; even Bayard, that peerless knight, _sans +peur_ and _sans reproche_, could be a little sulky at times, you may +depend on it!' + +'Bayard is not my hero now,' she returned, trying to pluck up a little +spirit with which to answer him. 'I have decided lately in favour of Sir +Philip Sidney, as my beau-ideal of an English gentleman.' + +'Rex and I chose him for our favourite ages ago,' observed Richard +eagerly, who until now had remained silent. + +'Yes,' continued Ethel, enthusiastically, 'that one act of unselfishness +has invested him with the reverence of centuries; can you not fancy the +awful temptation, Mildred--the death thirst under the scorching sun, the +unendurable agony of untended wounds, the cup of cold water, just tasted +and refused for the sake of the poor wretch lying beside him; one could +lay down one's life for such a man as that!' + +'Yes, it was a gentlemanly action,' observed Dr. Heriot, coolly; and as +Ethel's face expressed resentment at the phrase, 'have you ever thought +how much is comprehended under the term gentleman? To me the word is +fuller and more comprehensive than that of hero; your heroes are such +noisy fellows; there is always a sound of the harp, sackbut, psaltery, +and dulcimer about them; and they pass their life in fitting their +attitudes to their pedestal.' + +'Dr. John is riding one of his favourite hobbies,' observed Richard, in +a low voice. 'Never mind, he admires Sir Philip as much as we do!' + +'True, Cardie; but though I do not deny the heroism of the act, I +maintain that many a man in his place would do the same thing. Have we +no stories of heroism in our Crimean annals? Amongst the hideous details +of the Indian mutiny were there no deeds that might match that of the +dying soldier at Zutphen?' + +'Perhaps so; but all the same I have a right to my own ideal.' + +A mocking smile swept over Dr. Heriot's face. + +'Virtue in an Elizabethan ruff surpasses virtue clad in nineteenth +century broadcloth and fustian. I suspect even in your favourite Sir +Philip's case distance lends enchantment to the view; he wrote very +sweetly on Arcadia, but who knows but a twinge of the gout may not have +made him cross?' + +'How you persist in misunderstanding me,' returned Ethel, with a touch +of feeling in her voice. 'I suppose as usual I have brought this upon +myself, but why will you believe that I am so hard to please? After all +you are right; Bayard and Sir Philip Sidney are only typical characters +of their day; there must be great men even in this generation.' + +'There are downright honest men--men who are not ashamed to confess to +flaws and inconsistencies, and possible twinges of gout.' + +'There you spoil all,' said Mildred, with an amused look; but Dr. +Heriot's mischievous mood was not to be restrained. + +'One of these honest fellows with a tolerably tough will, and not an +ounce of imagination in his whole composition--positively of the earth, +earthy--will strike the right chord that is to bring Hermione from off +her pedestal--don't frown, Miss Trelawny; you may depend upon it those +old Turks were right, and there is a fate in these things.' + +Ethel curved her long neck superbly, and turned with a slightly +contemptuous expression to Richard: her patience was exhausted. + +'I think my father will be wondering what has become of me; will you +take me to him?' + +'There they go, Ethel and her knight; how little she knows that perhaps +her fate is beside her; they are too much of an age, but that lad has +the will of half a dozen men.' + +'Why do you tease her so?' remonstrated Mildred. Dr. Heriot still +retained his seat comfortably beside her. 'She is very girlish and +romantic, but she hardly deserved such biting sarcasms.' + +'Was I sarcastic?' he asked, evidently surprised. 'Poor child! I would +not have hurt her for the world. And these luxuriant fancies need +pruning; hers is a fine nature run to seed for want of care and proper +nurture.' + +'I think she needs sympathy,' returned gentle Mildred. + +'Then she has sought it in the right quarter,' with a look she could +hardly misunderstand, 'and where the supply is always equal to the +demand; but I warn you she is somewhat of an egotist.' + +'Oh no!' warmly. 'I am sure Miss Trelawny is not selfish.' + +'That depends how you interpret the phrase. She would give you all her +jewels without a sigh, but you must allow her to talk out all her fine +feeling in return. After all, she is only like others of her sex.' + +'You are in one of your misanthropical moods.' + +'Men are not always feeling their own pulse and detailing their moral +symptoms, depend upon it; it is quite a feminine weakness, Miss Lambert. +I think I know one woman tolerably free from the disease, at least +outwardly;' and as Mildred blushed under the keen, yet kindly look, Dr. +Heriot somewhat abruptly changed the subject. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE WELL-MEANING MISCHIEF-MAKER + + 'And in that shadow I have pass'd along, + Feeling myself grow weak as it grew strong; + Walking in doubt and searching for the way, + And often at a stand--as now to-day. + + * * * * * + + Perplexities do throng upon my sight + Like scudding fogbanks, to obscure the light; + Some new dilemma rises every day, + And I can only shut my eyes and pray.'--Anon. + + +Mildred had been secretly reproaching herself for allowing Dr. Heriot's +pleasing conversation so completely to monopolise her, and even her +healthy conscience felt a pang something like remorse when, half an hour +later, they came upon Olive sitting alone on a tree-trunk, having +evidently stolen apart from her companions to indulge unobserved in one +of her usual reveries. + +She was too much absorbed to notice them till addressed by name, and +then, to Mildred's surprise, she started, coloured from chin to brow, +and, muttering some excuse, seemed only anxious to effect her escape. + +'I hope you are not composing an Ode to Melancholy,' observed Dr. +Heriot, with one of his quizzical looks. 'You look like a forsaken +wood-nymph, or a disconsolate Chloe, or Jacques' sobbing deer, or any +other uncomfortable image of loneliness. What an unsociable creature you +are, Olive.' + +'Why are you not with Chrissy and the Chestertons? I hope we have not +all neglected you,' interposed Mildred in her soft voice, for she saw +that Olive shrank from Dr. Heriot's good-humoured raillery. 'Are you +tired, dear? Roy has not ordered the carriage for another hour, I am +afraid.' + +'No, I am not tired; I was only thinking. I will find Chriss,' returned +Olive, stammering and blushing still more under her aunt's affectionate +scrutiny. 'Don't come with me, please, Aunt Milly. I like being alone.' +And before Mildred could answer, she had disappeared down a little +side-walk, and was now lost to sight. + +Dr. Heriot laughed at Mildred's discomposed look. + +'You remind me of the hen when she hatched the duckling and found it +taking kindly to the unknown element. You must get used to Olive's odd +ways; she is decidedly original. I should not wonder if we disturbed her +in the first volume of some wonderful scheme-book, where all the +heroines are martyrs and the hero is a full-length portrait of Richard. +I warn you all her _denouements_ will be disastrous. Olive does not +believe in happiness for herself or other people.' + +'How hard you are on her!' returned Mildred, finding it impossible to +restrain a smile; but in reality she felt a little anxious. Olive had +seemed more than usually absorbed during the last few days; there was a +concentrated gravity in her manner that had struck Mildred more than +once, but all questioning had been in vain. 'I am not unhappy--at least, +not more than usual. I am only thinking out some troublesome thoughts,' +she had said when Mildred had pressed her the previous night. 'No, you +cannot do anything for me, Aunt Milly. I only want to help myself and +other people to do right.' And Mildred, who was secretly weary of this +endless scrupulosity, and imagined it was only a fresh attack of Olive's +troublesome conscience, was fain to rest content with the answer, though +she reproached herself not a little afterwards for a selfish evasion of +a manifest duty. + +The remainder of the day passed over pleasantly enough. Dr. Heriot had +contrived to make his peace with Miss Trelawny, for she had regained her +old serenity of manner when Mildred saw her again. She came just as they +were starting, to beg that Mildred would spend a long day at Kirkleatham +House. + +'Papa is going over to Appleby, to the Sessions Court, and I shall be +alone all day to-morrow. Do come, Mildred,' she pleaded. 'You do not +know what a treat it will be to me.' And though Mildred hesitated, her +objections were all overruled by Richard, who insisted that nobody +wanted her, and that a holiday would do her good. + +Richard's arguments prevailed, and Mildred thoroughly enjoyed her +holiday. Some hours of unrestrained intercourse only convinced her that +Ethel Trelawny's faults lay on the surface, and were the result of a +defective education and disadvantageous circumstances, while the real +nobility of her character revealed itself in every thought and word. She +had laid aside the slight hauteur and extravagance that marred +simplicity and provoked the just censure of men like Dr. Heriot; lesser +natures she delighted to baffle by an eccentricity that was often +ill-timed and out of place, but to-day the stilts, as Dr. Heriot termed +them, were out of sight. Mildred's sincerity touched the right keynote, +her brief captiousness vanished, unconsciously she showed the true side +of her character. Gentle, though unsatisfied; childishly eager, and with +a child's purity of purpose; full of lofty aims, unpractical, waiting +breathless for mere visionary happiness for which she knew no name; a +sweet, though subtle egotist, and yet tender-hearted and womanly;--no +wonder Ethel Trelawny was a fascinating study to Mildred that long +summer's day. + +Mildred listened with unwearied sympathy while Ethel dwelt pathetically +on her lonely and purposeless life, with its jarring gaieties and +absence of congenial fellowship. + +'Papa is dreadfully methodical and business-like. He always finds fault +with me because I am so unpractical, and will never let me help him, or +talk about what interests him; and then he cares for politics. He was so +disappointed because he failed in the last election. His great ambition +is to be a member of parliament. I know they got him to contest the +Kendal borough; but he had no chance, though he spent I am afraid to say +how much money. The present member was too popular, and was returned by +a large majority. He was very angry because I did not sympathise with +him in his disappointment; but how could I, knowing it was for the +honour of the position that he wanted it, and not for the highest +motives? And then the bribery and corruption were so sickening.' + +'I do not think we ought to impute any but the highest motives until we +know to the contrary,' returned Mildred, mildly. + +Ethel coloured. 'You think me disloyal; but papa knows my sentiments +well; we shall never agree on these questions--never. I fancy men in +general take a far less high standard than women.' + +'You are wrong there,' returned practical Mildred, firing up at this +sweeping assertion, which had a taint of heresy in her ears. 'Because +men live instead of talk their opinions, you misjudge them. Do you think +the single eye and the steady aim is not a necessary adjunct of all real +manhood? Look at my brother, look at Dr. Heriot, for example; they are +no mere worldlings, leading purposeless existences; they are both hard +workers and deep thinkers.' + +'We will leave Dr. Heriot out of the question; I see he has begun to be +perfection in your eyes, Mildred. Nay,'--and Mildred drew herself up +with a little dignity and looked annoyed,--'I meant nothing but the most +platonic admiration, which I assure you he reciprocates in an equal +degree. He thinks you a very superior person--so well-principled, so +entirely unselfish; he is always quoting you as an example, and----' + +'I agree with you that we should leave personalities in the background,' +returned Mildred, hastily, and taking herself to task for feeling +aggrieved at Dr. Heriot calling her a superior person. The argument +waxed languid at this point; Ethel became a little lugubrious under +Mildred's reproof, and relapsed into pathetic egotism again, pouring out +her longings for vocation, work, sympathy, and all the disconnected iota +of female oratory worked up into enthusiasm. + +'I want work, Mildred.' + +'And yet you dream dreams and see visions.' + +'Hush! please let me finish. I do not mean make-believes, shifts to get +through the day, fanciful labours befitting rank and station, but real +work, that will fill one's heart and life.' + +'Yours is a hungry nature. I fear the demand would double the supply. +You would go starved from the very place where we poor ordinary mortals +would have a full meal.' + +Ethel pouted. 'I wish you would not borrow metaphors from our tiresome +Mentor. I declare, Mildred, your words have always more or less a +flavour of Dr. Heriot's.' + +Mildred quietly took up her work. 'You know how to reduce me to +silence.' + +But Ethel playfully impeded the sewing by laying her crossed hands over +it. + +'Dr. Heriot's name seems an apple of discord between us, Mildred.' + +'You are so absurd about him.' + +'I am always provoked at hearing his opinions second-hand. I have less +comfort in talking to him than to any one else; I always seem to be +airing my own foolishness.' + +'At least, I am not accountable for that,' returned Mildred, pointedly. + +'No,' returned Ethel, with her charming smile, which at once disarmed +Mildred's prudery. 'You wise people think and talk much alike; you are +both so hard on mere visionaries. But I can bear it more patiently from +you than from him.' + +'I cannot solve riddles,' replied Mildred, in her old sensible manner. +'It strikes me that you have fashioned Dr. Heriot into a sort of +bugbear--a _bete noir_ to frighten naughty, prejudiced children; and yet +he is truly gentle.' + +'It is the sort of gentleness that rebukes one more than sternness,' +returned Ethel in a low voice. 'How odd it is, Mildred, when one feels +compelled to show the worst side of oneself, to the very people, too, +whom one most wishes to propitiate, or, at least--but my speech +threatens to be as incoherent as Olive's.' + +'I know what you mean; it comes of thinking too much of a mere +expression of opinion.' + +'Oh no,' she returned, with a quick blush; 'it only comes from a rash +impulse to dethrone Mentor altogether--the idea of moral leading reins +are so derogatory after childhood has passed.' + +'You must give me a hint if I begin to lecture in my turn. I shall +forget sometimes you are not Olive or Chriss.' + +The soft, brilliant eyes filled suddenly with tears. + +'I could find it in my heart to wish I were even Olive, whom you have a +right to lecture. How nice it would be to belong to you really, +Mildred--to have a real claim on your time and sympathy.' + +'All my friends have that,' was the soft answer. 'But how dark it is +growing--the longest day must have an end, you see.' + +'That means--you are going,' she returned, regretfully. 'Mother Mildred +is thinking of her children. I shall come down and see you and them +soon, and you must promise to find me some work.' + +Mildred shook her head. 'It must not be my finding if it is to satisfy +your exorbitant demands.' + +'We shall see; anyhow you have left me plenty to think about--you will +leave a little bit of sunshine behind you in this dull, rambling house. +Shall you go alone? Richard or Royal ought to have walked up to meet +you.' + +'Richard half promised he would, but I do not mind a lonely walk.' And +Mildred nodded brightly as she turned out of the lodge gates. She looked +back once; the moon was rising, a star shone on the edge of a dark +cloud, the air was sweet with the breath of honeysuckles and roses, a +slight breeze stirred Ethel's white dress as she leaned against the +heavy swing-gate, the sound of a horse's hoofs rang out from the +distance, the next moment she had disappeared into the shrubbery, and +Dr. Heriot walked his horse all the way to the town by the side of +Mildred. + +Mildred's day had refreshed and exhilarated her; congenial society was +as new as it was delightful. 'Somehow I think I feel younger instead of +older,' thought the quiet woman, as she turned up the vicarage lane and +entered the courtyard; 'after all, it is sweet to be appreciated.' + +'Is that you, Aunt Milly? You look ghost-like in the gloaming.' + +'Naughty boy, how you startled me! Why did not you or Richard walk up to +Kirkleatham House?' + +'We could not,' replied Roy, gravely. 'My father wanted Richard, and +I--I did not feel up to it. Go in, Aunt Milly; it is very damp and +chilly out here to-night.' And Roy resumed his former position of +lounging against the trellis-work of the porch. There was a touch of +despondency in the lad's voice and manner that struck Mildred, and she +lingered for a moment in the porch. + +'Are you not coming in too?' + +'No, thank you, not at present,' turning away his face. + +'Is there anything the matter, Roy?' + +'Yes--no. One must have a fit of the dumps sometimes; life is not all +syrup of roses'--rather crossly for Roy. + +'Poor old Royal--what's amiss, I wonder? There, I will not tease you,' +touching his shoulder caressingly, but with a half-sigh at the reticence +of Betha's boys. 'Where is Richard?' + +'With my father--I thought I told you;' then, mastering his irritability +with an effort, 'please don't go to them, Aunt Milly, they are +discussing something. Things are rather at sixes and sevens this +evening, thanks to Livy's interference; she will tell you all about it. +Good-night, Aunt Milly;' and as though afraid of being further +questioned, Roy strode down the court, where Mildred long afterwards +heard him kicking up the beck gravel, as a safe outlet and vent for +pent-up irritability. + +Mildred drew a long breath as she went upstairs. 'I shall pay dearly for +my pleasant holiday,' she thought. She could hear low voices in earnest +talk as she passed the study, but as she stole noiselessly down the +lobby no sound reached her from the girls' room, and she half hoped +Olive was asleep. + +As she opened her own door, however, there was a slight sound as of a +caught breath, and then a quick sob, and to her dismay she could just +see in the faint light the line of crouching shoulders and a bent figure +huddled up near the window that could belong to no other than Olive. It +must be confessed that Mildred's heart shrank for a moment from the +weary task that lay before her; but the next instant genuine pity and +compassion banished the unworthy thought. + +'My poor child, what is this?' + +'Oh, Aunt Milly,' with a sort of gasp, 'I thought you would never come.' + +'Never mind; I am here now. Wait a moment till I strike a light,' +commenced Mildred, cheerfully; but Olive interrupted her with unusual +fretfulness. + +'Please don't; I can talk so much better in the dark. I came in here +because Chrissy was awake, and I could not bear her talk.' + +'Very well, my dear, it shall be as you wish,' returned Mildred, gently; +and the soft warm hands closed over the girl's chill, nervous fingers +with comforting pressure. A strong restful nature like Mildred's was the +natural refuge of a timid despondent one such as Olive's. The poor girl +felt a sensation something like comfort as she groped her way a little +nearer to her aunt, and felt the kind arm drawing her closer. + +'Now tell me all about it, my dear.' + +Olive began, but it was difficult for Mildred to follow the long +rambling confession; with all her love for truth, Olive's morbid +sensitiveness tinged most things with exaggeration. Mildred hardly knew +if her timidity and incoherence were not jumbling facts and suppositions +together with a great deal of intuitive wisdom and perception. There was +a sad amount of guess-work and unreality, but after a few leading +questions, and by dint of allowing Olive to tell her story in her own +way, she contrived to get tolerably near the true state of the case. + +It appeared that Olive had for a long time been seriously unhappy about +her brothers. Truthful and uncompromising herself, there had seemed to +her a want of integrity and a blamable lack of openness in their +dealings with their father. With the best intentions, they were +absolutely deceiving him by leaving him in such complete, ignorance of +their wishes and intentions. Royal especially was making shipwreck of +his father's hopes concerning him, devoting most of his time and +energies to a secret pursuit; while his careless preparation for his +tutor was practical, if not actual, dishonesty. + +'At least Cardie works hard enough,' interrupted Mildred at this point. + +'Yes, because it will serve either purpose; but, Aunt Milly, he ought to +tell papa how he dreads the idea of being ordained; it is not right; he +is unfit for it; it is worse than wrong--absolute sacrilege;' and Olive +poured out tremblingly into her aunt's shocked ear that she knew Cardie +had doubts, that he was unhappy about himself. No--no one had told her, +but she knew it; she had watched him, and heard him talk, and she burst +into tears as she told Mildred that once he absolutely sneered at +something in his father's sermon which he declared obsolete, and not a +matter of faith at all. + +'But, my dear,' interrupted the elder woman, anxiously, 'my brother +ought to know. I--some one--must speak to Richard.' + +'Oh, Aunt Milly, you will hear--it is I--who have done the mischief; but +you told me there were no such things as conflicting duties; and what is +the use of a conscience if it be not to guide and make us do unpleasant +things?' + +'You mean you spoke to Richard?' + +'I have often tried to speak to him, but he was always angry, and +muttered something about my interference; he could not bear me to read +him so truly. I know it was all Mr. Macdonald. Papa had him to stay here +for a month, and he did Cardie so much harm.' + +'Who is he--I never heard of him?' And Olive explained, in her rambling +way, that he was an old college friend of her father's and a very clever +barrister, and he had come to them to recruit after a long illness. +According to her accounts, his was just the sort of character to attract +a nature like Richard's. His brilliant and subtle reasoning, his long +and interesting disquisitions on all manner of subjects, his sceptical +hints, conveying the notion of danger, and yet never exactly touching on +forbidden ground, though they involved a perilous breadth of views, all +made him a very unsafe companion for Richard's clever, inquisitive mind. +Olive guessed, rather than knew, that things were freely canvassed in +those long country walks that would have shocked her father; though, to +his credit be it said, Henry Macdonald had no idea of the mischievous +seed he had scattered in the ardent soil of a young and undeveloped +nature. + +Mildred was very greatly dismayed too when she heard that Richard had +read books against which he had been warned, and which must have further +unsettled his views. 'I think mamma guessed he had something on his +mind, for she was always trying to make him talk to papa, and telling +him papa could help him; but I heard him say to her once that he could +not bear to disappoint him so, that he must have time, and battle +through it alone. I know mamma could not endure Mr. Macdonald; and when +papa wanted to have him again, she said, once quite decidedly, "No, she +did not like him, and he was not good for Richard." I noticed papa +seemed quite surprised and taken aback.' + +'Well, go on, my dear;' for Olive sighed afresh at this point, as though +it were difficult to proceed. + +'Of course you will think me wrong, Aunt Milly. I do myself now; but if +you knew how I thought about it, till my head ached and I was half +stupid!--but I worked myself up to believe that I ought to speak to +papa.' + +'Ah!' Mildred checked the exclamation that rose to her lips, fearing +lest a weary argument should break the thread of Olive's narrative, +which now showed signs of flowing smoothly. + +'I half made up my mind to ask your advice, Aunt Milly, on the +rush-bearing day, but you were tired, and Polly was with you, and----' + +'Have I ever been too tired to help you, Olive?' asked Mildred, +reproachfully; all the more that an uncomfortable sensation crossed her +at the remembrance that she had noticed a wistful anxiety in Olive's +eyes the previous night, but had nevertheless dismissed her on the plea +of weariness, feeling herself unequal to one of the girl's endless +discussions. 'I am sorry--nay, heartily grieved--if I have ever repelled +your confidence.' + +'Please don't talk so, Aunt Milly; of course it was my fault, but' +(timidly) 'I am afraid sometimes I shall tire even you;' and Mildred's +pangs of conscience were so intense that she dared not answer; she knew +too well that Olive had of late tired her, though she had no idea the +girl's sensitiveness had been wounded. A kind of impatience seized her +as Olive talked on; she felt the sort of revolt and want of realization +that borders the pity of one in perfect health walking for the first +time through the wards of a hospital, and met on all sides by the +spectacle of mutilated and suffering humanity. + +'How shall I ever deal with all these moods of mind?' she thought +hopelessly, as she composed herself to listen. + +'So you spoke to your father, Olive? Go on; I will tell you afterwards +what I think.' + +There was a little sternness in the low tones, from which the girl +shrank. Of course Aunt Milly thought her wrong and interfering. Well, +she had been wrong, and she went on still more humbly: + +'I thought it was my duty; it made me miserable to do it, because I knew +Cardie would be angry, though I never knew how angry; but I got it into +my head that I ought to help him, in spite of himself, and because Rex +was so weak. You have no idea how weak and vacillating Rex is when it +comes to disappointing people, Aunt Milly.' + +'Yes, I know; go on,' was all the answer Mildred vouchsafed to this. + +'I brooded over it all St. Peter's day, and at night I could not sleep. +I thought of that verse about cutting off the right hand and plucking +out the right eye; it seemed to me it lay between Cardie and speaking +the truth, and that no pain ought to hinder me; and I determined to +speak to papa the first opportunity; and it came to-day. Cardie and Rex +were both out, and papa asked me to walk with him to Winton, and then he +got tired, and we sat down half-way on a fallen tree, and then I told +him.' + +'About Richard's views?' + +'About everything. I began with Rex; I told papa how his very sweetness +and amiability made him weak in things; he so hated disappointing +people, that he could not bring himself to say what he wished; and just +now, after his illness and trouble, it seemed doubly hard to do it.' + +'And what did he say to that?' + +'He looked grieved; yes, I am sure he was grieved. He does not believe +that Roy knows his own mind, or will ever do much good as an artist; but +all he said was, "I understand--my own boy--afraid of disappointing his +father. Well, well, the lad knows best what will make him happy."' + +'And then you told him about Richard?' + +'Yes,' catching her breath as though with a painful thought; 'when I got +to Cardie, somehow the words seemed to come of themselves, and it was +such a relief telling papa all I thought. It has been such a burden all +this time, for I am sure no one but mamma ever guessed how unhappy +Cardie really was.' + +'You, who know him so well, could inflict this mortification on him--no, +I did not mean to say that, you have suffered enough, my child; but did +it not occur to you that you were betraying a sacred confidence?' + +'Confidence, Aunt Milly!' + +'Yes, Olive; your deep insight into your brother's character, and your +very real affection for him, ought to have guarded you from this +mistake. If you had read him so truly as to discover all this for +yourself, you should not have imparted this knowledge without warning, +knowing how much it would wound his jealous reticence. If you had +waited, doubtless Richard's good sense would have induced him at last to +confide in his father.' + +'Not until it was too late--until he had worn himself out. He gets more +jaded and weary every day, Aunt Milly.' + +Mildred shook her head. + +'The golden rule holds good even here, "To do unto others as we would +they should do unto us." How would you like Richard to retail your +opinions and feelings, under the impression he owed you a duty?' + +'Aunt Milly, indeed I thought I was acting for the best.' + +'I do not doubt it, my child; the love that guided you was clearer than +the wisdom; but what did Arnold--what did your father say?' + +'Oh, Aunt Milly, he looked almost heart-broken; he covered his face with +his hands, and I think he was praying; and yet he seemed almost as +though he were talking to mamma. I am sure he had forgotten I was there. +I heard him say something about having been selfish in his great grief; +that he must have neglected his boy, or been hard and cruel to him, or +he would never have so repelled his confidence. "Betha's boy, her +darling," he kept saying to himself; "my poor Cardie, my poor lad," over +and over again, till I spoke to him to rouse him; and then he +said,'--here Olive faltered,--'"that I had been a good girl--a faithful +little sister,--and that I must try and take her place, and remind them +how good and loving she was." And then he broke down. Oh, Aunt Milly, it +was so dreadful; and then I made him come back.' + +'My poor brother! I knew he would take it to heart.' + +'He said it was like a stab to him, for he had always been so proud of +Cardie; and it was his special wish to devote his first-born to the +service of the Church; and when I asked if he wished it now, he said, +vehemently, "A half-hearted service, reluctantly made--God forbid a son +of mine should do such wrong!" and then he was silent for a long time; +and just at the beginning of the town we met Rex, and papa whispered to +me to leave them together.' + +'My poor Olive, I can guess what a hard day you have had,' said Mildred, +caressingly, as the girl paused in her recital. + +'The hardest part was to come;' and Olive shivered, as though suddenly +chilled. 'I was not prepared for Rex being so angry; he is so seldom +cross, but he said harder things to me than he has said in his life.' + +Mildred thought of the harmless kicks on the beck gravel, and the +irritability in the porch, and could not forbear a smile. She could not +imagine Roy's wrath could be very alarming, especially as Olive owned +her father had been very lenient to him, and had promised to give the +subject his full consideration. In this case, Olive's interference had +really worked good; but Roy's manhood had taken fire at the notion of +being watched and talked over; his father's mild hints of moral weakness +and dilatoriness had affronted him; and though secretly relieved, the +difficulty of revelation had been spared him, he had held his head +higher, and had crushed his sister by a tirade against feminine +impertinence and interference; and, what hurt her most, had declared his +intention of never confiding in such a 'meddlesome Matty again.' + +Mildred was thankful the darkness hid her look of amusement at this +portion of Olive's lugubrious story, though the girl herself was too +weak and cowed to see the ludicrous side of anything; and her voice +changed into the old hopeless key as she spoke of Richard's look of +withering scorn. + +'He was almost too angry to speak to me, Aunt Milly. He said he never +would trust me again. I had better not know what he thought of me. I had +injured him beyond reparation. I don't know what he meant by that, but +Roy told me that he would not have had his father troubled for the +world; he could manage his own concerns, spiritual as well as temporal, +for himself. And then he sneered; but oh, Aunt Milly, he looked so white +and ill. I am sure now that for some reason he did not want papa to +know; perhaps things were not so bad as I thought, or he is trying to +feel better about it all. Do you think I have done wrong, Aunt Milly?' + +And Olive wrung her hands in genuine distress and burst into fresh +tears, and sobbed out that she had done for herself now; no one would +believe she had said it for the best; even Rex was angry with her--and +Cardie, she was sure Cardie would never forgive her. + +'Yes, when this has blown over, and he and his father have come to a +full understanding. I have better faith in Cardie's good heart than +that.' + +But Mildred felt more uneasy than her cheerful words implied. She had +seen from the first that Richard had persistently misunderstood his +sister; this fresh interference on her part, as he would term it, +touching on a very sore place, would gall and irritate him beyond +endurance. He had no conception of the amount of unselfish affection +that was already lavished upon him; in fact he thought Olive provokingly +cold and undemonstrative, and chafed at her want of finer feelings. It +needed some sort of shock or revelation to enable him to read his +sister's character in a truer light, and any kind of one-sided +reconciliation would be a very warped and patched affair. + +Mildred's clear-sightedness was fully alive to these difficulties; but +it was expedient to comfort Olive, who had relapsed into her former +state of agitation. There was clearly no wrong in the case; want of tact +and mistaken kindness were the heaviest sins to be laid to poor Olive's +charge; yet Mildred now found her incoherently accusing herself of +wholesale want of principle, of duty, and declaring that she was +unworthy of any one's affections. + +'I shall call you naughty for the first time, Olive, if I hear any more +of this,' interrupted her aunt; and by infusing a little judicious +firmness into her voice, and by dint of management, though not without +difficulty, and representing that she herself was in need of rest, she +succeeded in persuading the worn-out girl to seek some repose. + +Unwilling to trust her out of her sight, she made her share her own bed; +nor did she relax her vigil until the swollen eyelids had closed in +refreshing sleep, and the sobbing breaths were drawn more evenly. Once, +at an uneasy movement, she started from the doze into which she had +fallen, and put aside the long dark hair with a fondling hand; the moon +was then shining from behind the hill, and the beams shone full through +the uncurtained windows; the girl's hands were crossed upon her breast, +folded over the tiny silver cross she always wore, a half-smile playing +on her lips-- + +'Cardie is always a good boy, mamma,' she muttered, drowsily, at +Mildred's disturbing touch. Olive was dreaming of her mother. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +A YOUTHFUL DRACO AND SOLON + + 'But thoughtless words may bear a sting + Where malice hath no place, + May wake to pain some secret sting + Beyond thy power to trace. + When quivering lips, and flushing cheek, + The spirit's agony bespeak, + Then, though thou deem thy brother weak, + Yet soothe his soul to peace.'--S. A. Storrs. + + +Things certainly seemed at sixes and sevens, as Roy phrased it, the next +morning. The severe emotions of the previous night had resulted in +Olive's case in a miserable sick headache, which would not permit her to +raise her head from the pillow. Mildred, who had rightly interpreted the +meaning of the wistful glance that followed her to the door, had +resolved to take the first opportunity of speaking to her nephews +separately, and endeavouring to soften their aggrieved feelings towards +their sister; by a species of good fortune she met Roy coming out of his +father's room. + +Roy had slept off his mighty mood, and kicked away his sullenness, and +an hour of Polly's sunshiny influence had restored him to good humour; +and though his brow clouded a little at his aunt's first words, and he +broke into a bar of careless whistling in a low and displeased key at +the notion of her meditation, yet his better feelings were soon wrought +upon by a hint of Olive's sufferings, and he consented, though a little +condescendingly, to be the bearer of his own embassage of peace. + +Olive's heavy eyes filled up with tears when she saw him. + +'Dear Rex, this is so kind.' + +'I am sorry your head is so bad, Livy,' was the evasive answer, in a +sort of good-natured growl. Roy thought it would not do to be too +amiable at first. '"You do look precious bad to be sure," as the hangman +said to the gentleman he afterwards throttled. Take my advice, Livy,' +seating himself astride the rocking-chair, and speaking confidentially, +'medlars, spelt with either vowel, are very rotten things, and though I +would not joke for worlds on such an occasion, it behoves us to stick to +our national proverbs, and, as you know as well as I, a burnt child +dreads the fire.' + +'I will try to remember, Rex; I will, indeed; but please make Cardie +think I meant it for the best.' + +'It was the worst possible best,' replied Roy, gravely, 'and shows what +weak understandings you women have--part of the present company +excepted, Aunt Milly. "Age before honesty," and all that sort of thing, +you know.' + +'You incorrigible boy, how dare you be so rude?' + +'Don't distress the patient, Aunt Milly. What a weak-eyed sufferer you +look, Livy--regularly down in the doleful doldrums. You must have a +strong dose of Polly to cheer you up--a grain of quicksilver for every +scruple.' + +Olive smiled faintly. 'Oh, Rex, you dear old fellow, are you sure you +forgive me?' + +'Very much, thank you,' returned Roy, with a low bow from the +rocking-chair. 'And shall be much obliged by your not mentioning it +again.' + +'Only one word, just----' + +'Hush,' in a stentorian whisper, 'on your peril not an utterance--not +the ghostly semblance of a word. Aunt Milly, is repentance always such a +painful and distressing disorder? Like the immortal Rosa Dartle, "I only +ask for information." I will draw up a diagnosis of the symptoms for the +benefit of all the meddlesome Matties of futurity--No, you are right, +Livy,' as a sigh from Olive reached him; 'she was not a nice character +in polite fiction, wasn't Matty--and then show it to Dr. John. Let me +see; symptoms, weak eyes and reddish lids, a pallid exterior, with black +lines and circles under the eyes, not according to Euclid--or Cocker--a +tendency to laugh nervously at the words of wisdom, which, the +conscience reprobating, results in an imbecile grin.' + +'Oh, Rex, do--please don't--my head does ache so--and I don't want to +laugh.' + +'All hysteria, and a fresh attack of scruples--that quicksilver must be +administered without delay, I see--hot and cold fits--aguish symptoms, +and a tendency to incoherence and extravagance, not to say +lightheadedness--nausea, excited by the very thought of Dr. Murray--and +a restless desire to misplace words--"do--please don't," being a fair +sample. I declare, Livy, the disease is as novel as it is interesting.' + +Mildred left Olive cheered in spite of herself, but with a fresh access +of pain, and went in search of Richard. + +He was sitting at the little table writing. He looked up rather moodily +as his aunt entered. + +'Breakfast seems late this morning, Aunt Milly. Where is Rex?' + +'I left him in Olive's room, my dear;' and as Richard frowned, 'Olive +has been making herself ill with crying, and has a dreadful headache, +and Roy was kind enough to go and cheer her up.' + +No answer, only the scratching of the quill pen rapidly traversing the +paper. + +Mildred stood irresolute for a moment and watched him; there was no +softening of the fine young face. Chriss was right when she said +Richard's lips closed as though they were iron. + +'I was sorry to hear what an uncomfortable evening you all had last +night, Richard. I should hardly have enjoyed myself, if I had known how +things were at home.' + +'Ignorance is bliss, sometimes. I am glad you had a pleasant evening, +Aunt Milly. I was sorry I could not meet you. I told Rex to go.' + +'I found Rex kicking up his heels in the porch instead. Never mind,' as +Richard looked annoyed. 'Dr. Heriot brought me home. But, Richard, dear, +I am more sorry than I can say about this sad misunderstanding between +you and Olive.' + +'Aunt Milly, excuse me, but the less said about that the better.' + +'Poor girl! I know how her interference has offended you; it was +ill-judged, but, indeed, it was well meant. You have no conception, +Richard, how dearly Olive loves you.' + +The pen remained poised above the paper a moment, and then, in spite of +his effort, the pent-up storm burst forth. + +'Interference! unwarrantable impertinence! How dare she betray me to my +father?' + +'Betray you, Richard?' + +'The very thing I was sparing him! The thing of all others I would not +have had him know for worlds! How did she know? What right had she to +guess my most private feelings! It is past all forbearance; it is enough +to disgust one.' + +'It is hard to bear, certainly; but, Richard, the fault is after all a +trifling one; the worst construction one can put on it is error of +judgment and a simple want of tact; she had no idea she was harming +you.' + +'Harming me!' still more stormily; 'I shall never get over it. I have +lost caste in my father's opinion; how will he be ever able to trust me +now? If she had but given me warning of her intention, I should not be +in this position. All these months of labour gone for nothing. +Questioned, treated as a child--but, were he twenty times my father, I +should refuse to be catechised;' and Richard took up his pen again, and +went on writing, but not before Mildred had seen positive tears of +mortification had sprung to his eyes. They made her feel softer to +him--such a lad, too--and motherless--and yet so hard and +impracticable--mannish, indeed!' + +She stooped over him, even venturing to lay a hand on his shoulder. +'Dear Cardie, if you feel she has injured you so seriously, there is all +the greater need of forgiveness. You cannot refuse it to one so truly +humble. She is already heart-broken at the thought she may have caused +mischief.' + +'Are you her ambassadress, Aunt Milly?' + +'No; you know your sister better. She would not have ventured--at +least----' + +'I thought not,' he returned coldly. 'I wish her no ill, but, I confess, +I am hardly in the mood for true forgiveness just now. You see I am no +saint, Aunt Milly,' with a sneer, that sat ill on the handsome, careworn +young face, 'and I am above playing the hypocrite. Tender messages are +not in my line, and I am sorry to say I have not Roy's forgiving +temper.' + +'Dear Rex, he is a pattern to us all,' thought Mildred, but she wisely +forbore making the irritating comparison; it would certainly not have +lightened Richard's dark mood. With an odd sort of tenacity he seemed +dwelling on his aunt's last words. + +'You are wrong in one thing, Aunt Milly. I do not know my sister. I know +Rex, and love him with all my heart; and I understand the foolish baby +Chriss, but Olive is to me simply an enigma.' + +'Because you have not attempted to solve her.' + +'Most enigmas are tiresome, and hardly worth the trouble of solving,' he +returned calmly. + +'Richard! your own sister! for shame!' indignantly from Mildred. + +'I cannot help it, Aunt Milly; Olive has always been perfectly +incomprehensible to me. She is the worst sister, and, as far as I can +judge, the worst daughter I ever knew. In my opinion she has simply no +heart.' + +'Perhaps I had better leave you, Richard; you are not quite yourself.' + +The quiet reproof in Mildred's gentlest tones seemed to touch him. + +'I am sorry if I grieve you, Aunt Milly. I wish myself that we had never +entered on this subject.' + +'I wish it with all my heart, Richard; but I had no idea my own nephew +could be so hard.' + +'Unhappiness and want of sympathy make a man hard, Aunt Milly. But, all +the same,' speaking with manifest effort, 'I am making a bad return for +your kindness.' + +'I wish you would let me be kind,' she returned, earnestly. 'Nay, my +dear boy,' as an impatient frown crossed his face, 'I am not going to +renew a vexed subject. I love Olive too well to have her unjustly +censured, and you are too prejudiced and blinded by your own troubles to +be capable of doing her justice. I only want'--here Mildred paused and +faltered--'remember the bruised reed, Richard, and the mercy promised to +the merciful. When we come to our last hour, Cardie, and our poor little +life-torch is about to be extinguished, I think we shall be thankful if +no greater sins are written up against us than want of tact and the +error of judgment that comes from over-conscientiousness and a too great +love;' and without looking at his face, or trusting herself to say more, +Mildred turned to the breakfast-table, where he shortly afterwards +joined her. + +Olive was in such a suffering condition all the morning that she needed +her aunt's tenderest attention, and Mildred did not see her brother till +later in the day. + +The reaction caused by 'the Royal magnanimity,' as Mildred phrased it to +Dr. Heriot afterwards, had passed into subsequent depression as the +hours passed on, and no message reached her from the brother she loved +but too well. Mildred feigned for a long time not to notice the weary, +wistful looks that followed her about the room, especially as she knew +Olive's timidity would not venture on direct questioning, but the sight +of tears stealing from under the closed lids caused her to relent. Roy's +prescription of quicksilver had wholly failed. Polly, saddened and +mystified by the sorrowful spectacle of three-piled woe, forgot all her +saucy speeches, and blundered over her sympathising ones. And Chrissy +was even worse; she clattered about the room in her thick boots, and +talked loudly in the crossest possible key about people being stupid +enough to have feelings and make themselves ill about nothing. Chriss +soon got her dismissal, but as Mildred returned a little flushed from +the summary ejectment which Chriss had playfully tried to dispute, she +stooped over the bed and whispered-- + +'Never mind, dear, it could not be helped; has it made your head worse?' + +'Only a little. Chriss is always so noisy.' + +'Shall we have Polly back? she is quieter and more accustomed to +sickrooms.' + +'No, thank you; I like being alone with you best, Aunt Milly, only--' +here a large tear dropped on the coverlid. + +'You must not fret then, or your nurse will scold. No, indeed, Olive. I +know what you are thinking about, but I don't know that having you ill +on my hands will greatly mend matters.' + +'Cardie,' whispered Olive, unable to endure the suspense any longer, +'did you give him my message?' + +'I told him you were far from well; but you know as well as I do, Olive, +that there is no dealing with Cardie when he is in one of these +unreasonable moods; we must be patient and give him time.' + +'I know what you mean, Aunt Milly--you think he will never forgive me.' + +'I think nothing of the kind; you must not be so childish, Olive,' +returned Mildred, with a little wholesome severity. 'I wish you would be +a good sensible girl and go to sleep.' + +'I will try,' she returned, in a tone of languid obedience; 'but I have +such an ache here,' pressing her hand to her heart, 'such an odd sort of +sinking, not exactly pain. I think it is more unhappiness and----' + +'That is because the mind acts and reacts on the body; you must quiet +yourself, Olive, and put this unlucky misunderstanding out of your +thoughts. Remember, after all, who it is "who maketh men to be of one +mind in a house;" you have acted for the best and without any selfish +motives, and you may safely leave the disentangling of all this +difficulty to Him. No, you must not talk any more,' as Olive seemed +eager to speak; 'you are flushed and feverish, and I mean to read you to +sleep with my monotonous voice;' and in spite of the invalid's +incredulous look Mildred so far kept her word that Olive first lost +whole sentences, and then vainly tried to fix her attention on others, +and at last thought she was in Hillbeck woods and that some doves were +cooing loudly to her, at which point Mildred softly laid down the book +and stole from the room. + +As she stood for a moment by the lobby window she saw her brother was +taking his evening's stroll in the churchyard, and hastened to join him. +He quickened his steps on seeing her, and inquired anxiously after +Olive. + +'She is asleep now, but I have not thought her looking very well for the +last two or three days,' answered his sister. 'I do not think Olive is +as strong as the others--she flags sadly at times.' + +'All this has upset her; they have told you, I suppose, Mildred?' + +'Olive told me last night' + +'I do not know that I have ever received a greater shock except one. I +hardly had an idea myself how much my hopes were fixed upon that boy, +but I am doomed to disappointment.' + +'It seems to me he is scarcely to be blamed; think how young he is, only +nineteen, and with such abilities.' + +'Poor lad; if he only knew how little I blame him,' returned his father +with a groan. 'It only shows the amount of culpable neglect of which I +have been guilty, throwing him into the society of such a man; but +indeed I was not aware till lately that Macdonald was little better than +a free-thinker.' + +Mildred looked shocked--things were even worse than she thought. + +'I fancy he has drifted into extremes during the last year or two, for +though always a little slippery in his Church views, he had not +developed any decided rationalistic tendency; but Betha, poor darling, +always disliked him; she said once, I remember, that he was not a good +companion for our boys. I do not think she mentioned Richard in +particular.' + +'Olive told me she had.' + +'Perhaps so; she was always so keenly alive to what concerned him. He +was my only rival, Milly,' with a sad smile. 'No mother could have been +prouder of her boy than she was of Cardie. I am bound to say he deserved +it, for he was a good son to her; at least,' with a stifled sigh, 'he +did not withhold his confidence from his mother.' + +'You found him impracticable then, Arnold?' + +He shook his head sadly. + +'The sin lies on my own head, Milly. I have neglected my children, +buried myself in my own pursuits and sorrow, and now I am sorely +punished. My son refuses the confidence which his father actually +stooped to entreat,' and there was a look of such suppressed anguish on +Mr. Lambert's face that Mildred could hardly refrain from tears. + +'Richard is always so good to you,' she said at last. + +'Do I not tell you I blame myself and not the boy that there is this +barrier between us! but to know that my son is in trouble which he will +not permit me to share, it is very hard, Mildred.' + +'It is wrong, Arnold.' + +'Where has the lad inherited his proud spirit! his mother was so very +gentle, and I was always alive to reason. I must confess he was +perfectly respectful, not to say filial in his manner, was grieved to +distress me, would have suffered anything rather than I should have been +so harassed; but it was not his fault that people had meddled in his +private concerns; you would have thought he was thirty at least.' + +'I am sure he meant what he said; there is no want of heart in Richard.' + +'He tried to smoothe me over, I could see, hoped that I should forget +it, and would esteem it a favour if I would not make it a matter of +discussion between us. He had been a little unsettled, how much he +refused to say. He could wish with me that he had never been thrown so +much with Macdonald, as doubts take seed as rapidly as thistledown; but +when I urged and pressed him to repose his doubts in me, as I might +possibly remove them, he drew back and hesitated, said he was not +prepared, he would rather not raise questions for which there might not +be sufficient reply; he thought it better to leave the weeds in a dark +corner where they could trouble no one; he wished to work it out for +himself--in fact, implied that he did not want my help.' + +'I think you must have misunderstood him, Arnold. Who could be better +than his own father, and he a clergyman?' + +'Many, my dear; Heriot, for example. I find Heriot is not quite so much +in the dark as I supposed, though he treats it less seriously than we +do; he says it is no use forcing confidence, and that Cardie is peculiar +and resents being catechised, and he advises me to send him to Oxford +without delay, that he may meet men on his own level and rub against +other minds; but I feel loath to do so, I am so in the dark about him. +Heriot may be right, or it may be the worst possible thing.' + +'What did Richard say himself?' + +'He seemed relieved at my proposing it, thanked me, and jumped at the +idea, begged that he might go after Christmas; he was wasting his time +here, looked pleased and dubious when I proposed his reading for the +bar, and then his face fell--I suppose at the thought of my +disappointment, for he coloured and said hurriedly that there was no +need of immediate decision; he must make up his mind finally whether he +should ever take holy orders. At present it was more than probable +that----' + +'"Say at once it is impossible," I interrupted, for the thought of such +sacrilege made me angry. "No, father, do not say that," he returned, and +I fancied he was touched for the moment. "Don't make up your mind that +we are both to disappoint you. I only want to be perfectly sure that I +am no hypocrite--that at any rate I am true in what I do. I think she +would like that best, father," and then I knew he meant his mother.' + +'Dear Arnold, I am not sure after all that you need be unhappy about +your boy.' + +'I do not distrust his rectitude of purpose; I only grieve over his +pride and inflexibility--they are not good bosom-companions to a young +man. Well, wherever he goes he is sure of his father's prayers, though +it is hard to know that one's son is a stranger. Ah, there comes Heriot, +Milly. I suppose he thinks we all want cheering up, as it is not his +usual night.' + +Mildred had already guessed such was the case, and was very grateful for +the stream of ready talk that, at supper-time, carried Polly and Chriss +with it. Roy had recovered his spirits, but he seemed to consider it a +duty to preserve a subdued and injured exterior in his father's +presence; it showed remorse for past idleness, and was a delicate +compliment to the absent Livy; while Richard sat by in grave +taciturnity, now and then breaking out into short sentences when silence +was impossible, but all the time keenly cognisant of his father's every +look and movement, and observant of his every want. + +Dr. Heriot followed Mildred out of the room with a half-laughing inquiry +how she had fared during the family gale. + +'It is no laughing matter, I assure you; we are all as uncomfortable as +possible.' + +'When Greek meets Greek, you know the rest. You have no idea how +dogmatical and disagreeable Mr. Lambert can make himself at times.' + +This was a new idea to Mildred, and was met with unusual indignation. + +'Parents have a notion they can enforce confidence--that the very +relationship instils it. Here is the vicar groaning over his son's +unfilial reticence and breaking his heart over a fit of very youthful +stubbornness which calls itself manly pride, and Richard all the while +yearning after his father, but bitter at being treated and schooled like +a child. I declare I take Richard's part in this.' + +'You ought not to blame my brother,' returned Mildred in a low voice. + +'He blames himself, and rightly too. He had no business to have such a +man about the house. Richard is a cantankerous puppy not to confide in +his father. But what's the good of leading a horse to the water?--you +can't make him drink.' + +'I begin to think you are right about Richard,' sighed Mildred; 'one +cannot help being fond of him, but he is very unsatisfactory. I am +afraid I shall never make any impression.' + +'Then no one will. Fie! Miss Lambert, I detect a whole world of +disappointment in that sigh. What has become of your faith? Half Dick's +faultiness comes from having an old head on young shoulders; in my +opinion he's worth half a dozen Penny-royals rolled in one.' + +'Dr. Heriot, how can you! Rex has the sweetest disposition in the world. +I strongly suspect he is his father's favourite.' + +'Have you just found that out? It would have done you good to have seen +the vicar gloating over Roy's daubs this afternoon, as though they were +treasures of art; the rogue actually made him believe that his +coffee-coloured clouds, with ragged vermilion edges, were sublime +effects. I quite pleased him when I assured him they were supernatural +in the truest sense of the word. He wiped his eyes actually, over the +gipsy sibyl that I call Roy's gingerbread queen. What a rage the lad put +himself in when I said I had never seen such a golden complexion except +at a fair booth or in very bad cases of jaundice.' + +'How you do delight to tease that boy!' + +'Isn't it too bad--ruffling the wings of my "sweet Whistler," as I call +him. He is the sort of boy all you women spoil. He only wants a little +more petting to become as effeminate as heart can wish. I am half afraid +that I shall miss his bright face when a London studio engulfs him.' + +'You think my brother will give him his way, then?' + +'He has no choice. Besides, he quite believes he has an unfledged Claude +Lorraine or Salvator Rosa on his hands. I believe Polly's Dad Fabian is +to be asked, and the matter regularly discussed. Poor Lambert! he will +suffer a twinge or two before he delivers the boy into the hands of the +Bohemians. He turned quite pale when I hinted a year in Rome; but there +seems no reason why Roy should not have a regular artistic education; +and, after all, I believe the lad has some talent--some of his smaller +sketches are very spirited.' + +'I thought so myself,' replied Mildred; and the subject of their +conversation appearing at this moment, the topic was dropped. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +RICHARD COEUR-DE LION + + 'What is life, father?' + 'A battle, my child, + Where the strongest lance may fail; + Where the wariest eyes may be beguiled, + And the stoutest heart may quail; + Where the foes are gathered on every hand + And rest not day or night, + And the feeble little ones must stand + In the thickest of the fight.'--Adelaide Anne Procter. + + +The next day the vicarage had not regained its wonted atmosphere of +quiet cheerfulness, which had been its normal condition since Mildred's +arrival. + +In vain had 'the sweet Whistler' haunted the narrow lobby outside +Olive's room, where, with long legs dangling from the window-seat, he +had warbled through the whole of 'Bonnie Dundee' and 'Comin' thro' the +Rye;' after which, helping himself _ad libitum_ from the old-fashioned +bookcase outside Mildred's chamber, he had read through the whole index +of the _Shepherd's Guide_ with a fine nasal imitation of Farmer +Tallentire. + +'Roy, how can you be so absurd?' + +'Shut up, Contradiction; don't you see I am enlightening Aunt Milly's +mind--clearing it of London fogs? Always imbibe the literature of your +country. People living on the fellside will find this a useful handbook +of reference, containing "a proper delineation of the usual horn and +ear-marks of all the members' sheep, extending from Bowes and Wensley +dale to Sedbergh in Yorkshire, from Ravenstone-dale and Brough to +Gillumholme in Westmorland, from Crossfell and Kirkoswold----"' + +Here, Chriss falling upon the book, the drawling monotone was quenched, +and a sharp scuffle ensued, in which Royal made his escape, betaking +himself during the remainder of the day to his glass studio and the +society of congenial canaries. + +The day was intensely hot; Olive's headache had yielded at last to +Mildred's treatment, but she seemed heavy and languid and dragged +herself with difficulty to the dinner-table, shocking every one but +Richard with her altered appearance. + +Richard had so far recovered his temper that he had made up his mind +with some degree of magnanimity to ignore (at least outwardly) what had +occurred. He kissed Olive coolly when she entered, and hoped, somewhat +stiffly, that her head was better; but he took no notice of the yearning +look in the dark eyes raised to his, though it haunted him long +afterwards, neither did he address her again; and Mildred was distressed +to find that Olive scarcely touched her food, and at last crept away +before half the meal was over, with the excuse that her head was aching +again, but in reality unable to bear the chill restraint of her +brother's presence. + +Mildred found her giddy and confused, and yet unwilling to own herself +anything but well, and with a growing sense of despondency and +hopelessness that made her a trying companion for a hot afternoon. She +talked Mildred and herself into a state of drowsiness at last, from +which the former was roused by hearing Ethel Trelawny's voice on the +terrace below. + +Mildred was thankful for any distraction, and the sight of the tall +figure in the riding-habit, advancing so gracefully to meet her, was +especially refreshing, though Ethel accosted her with unusual gravity, +and hoped she would not be in the way. + +'Papa has ridden over to Appleby, and will call for me on his return. I +started with the intention of going with him, but the afternoon is so +oppressive that I repented of my determination; will you give me a cup +of tea instead, Mildred?' + +'Willingly,' was the cheerful answer; and as she gave the order, Ethel +seated herself on the steps leading down to the small smooth-shaven +croquet-lawn, and, doffing her hat and gauntlets, amused herself with +switching the daisy-heads with her jewelled riding-whip until Mildred +returned. + +'Is Olive better?' she asked abruptly, as Mildred seated herself beside +her with needlework. + +Mildred looked a little surprised as she answered, but a +delicately-worded question or two soon showed her that Ethel was not +entirely ignorant of the state of the case. She had met Richard in the +town on the previous day, and, startled at his gloomy looks, had coaxed +him, though with great difficulty, to accompany her home. + +'It was not very easy to manage him in such a mood, continued Ethel, +with her crisp laugh. 'I felt, as we were going up the Crofts, as though +I were Una leading her lion. He was dumb all the way; he contrived a +roar at the end, though--we were very nearly having our first quarrel.' + +'I am afraid you were hard on your knight then.' + +Ethel coloured a little disdainfully, but she coloured nevertheless. + +'Boys were not knighted in the old days, Mildred--they had to win their +spurs, though,' hesitating, 'few could boast of a more gallant exploit +perhaps;' but with a sudden sparkle of fun in her beautiful eyes, 'a +lionised Richard, not a Coeur-de-Lion, but the horrid, blatant beast +himself, must be distressful to any one but a Una.' + +'Poor Richard! you should have soothed instead of irritated him.' + +'Counter-irritants are good for some diseases; besides, it was his own +fault. He did not put me in possession of the real facts of the case +until the last, and then only scantily. When I begged to know more, he +turned upon me quite haughtily; it might have been Coeur-de-Lion +himself before Ascalon, when Berengaria chose to be inquisitive. Indeed +he gave me a strong hint that I could have no possible right to question +him at all. I felt inclined half saucily to curtsey to his mightiness, +only he looked such a sore-hearted Coeur-de-Lion.' + +'I like your choice of names; it fits Cardie somehow. I believe the +lion-hearted king could contrive to get into rages sometimes. If I were +mischievous, which I am not, I would not let you forget you have likened +yourself to Berengaria.' + +It was good to see the curl of Ethel's lips as she completely ignored +Mildred's speech. + +'I suppressed the mocking reverence and treated him to a prettily-worded +apology instead, which had the effect of bringing him 'off the stilts,' +as a certain doctor calls it. I tell him sometimes, by way of excuse, +that the teens are a stilted period in one's life.' + +'Do you mean that you are younger than Richard?' + +'I am three months his junior, as he takes care to remind me sometimes. +Did you ever see youth treading on the heels of bearded age as in +Richard's case, poor fellow? I am really very sorry for him,' she +continued, in a tone of such genuine feeling that Mildred liked her +better than ever. + +'I hope you told him so.' + +'Yes, I was very good to him when I saw my sarcasms hurt. I gave him tea +with my own fair hands, and was very plentiful in the matter of cream, +which I know to be his weakness; and I made Minto pet him and Lassie +jump up on his knee, and by and by my good temper was rewarded, and +"Richard was himself again!"' + +'Did he tell you he is going to Oxford after Christmas?' + +'Yes; I am thankful to hear it. What is the good of his rusting here, +when every one says he has such wonderful abilities? I hope you do not +think me wrong, Mildred,' blushing slightly, 'but I strongly advocated +his reading for the Bar.' + +Mildred sighed. + +'There is no doubt he wishes it above all things; he quite warmed into +eagerness as we discussed it. My father has always said that his clear +logical head and undoubted talents would be invaluable as a barrister. +He has no want of earnestness, but he somehow lacks the persuasive +eloquence that ought to be innate in the real priest; and yet when I +said as much he shook his head, and relapsed into sadness again, said +there was more than that, hinted at a rooted antipathy, then turned it +off by owning that he disliked the notion of talking to old women about +their souls; was sure he would be a cypher at a sickbed, good for +nothing but scolding the people all round, and thought writing a couple +of sermons a week the most wearisome work in the world--digging into +one's brains for dry matter that must not be embellished even by a few +harmless Latin and Greek quotations.' + +Mildred looked grave. 'I fear he dislikes the whole thing.' + +But Ethel interposed eagerly. 'You must not blame him if he be unfit by +temperament. He had far better be a rising barrister than a half-hearted +priest.' + +'I would sooner see him anything than that--a navvy rather.' + +'That is what I say,' continued Miss Trelawny, triumphant; 'and yet when +I hinted as much he threw up his head with quite a Coeur-de-Lion look, +and said, "Yes, I know, but you must not tempt me to break through my +father's wishes. If it can be done without sacrilege----" And then he +stopped, and asked if it were only the Westmorland old women were so +trying. I do call it very wrong, Mildred, that any bias should have been +put on his wishes in this respect, especially as in two more years +Richard knows he will be independent of his father.' And as Mildred +looked astonished at this piece of information, Ethel modestly returned +that she had been intimate so many years at the vicarage--at least with +the vicar and his wife and Richard--that many things came to her +knowledge. Both she and her father knew that part of the mother's money +had, with the vicar's consent, been settled on her boy, and Mildred, who +knew that a considerable sum had a few years before been left to Betha +by an eccentric uncle whom Mr. Lambert had inadvertently offended, and +that he had willed it exclusively for the use of his niece and her +children, was nevertheless surprised to hear that while a moderate +portion had been reserved to her girls, Roy's share was only small, +while Richard at one-and-twenty would be put in possession of more than +three hundred a year. + +'Between three and four, I believe Mr. Lambert told my father. Roy is to +have a hundred a year, and the girls about two thousand apiece. Richard +will have the lion's share. I believe this same uncle took a fancy to +Roy's saucy face, and left a sum of money to be appropriated to his +education. Richard says there will be plenty for a thorough art +education and a year at Rome; he hinted too that if Roy failed of +achieving even moderate success in his profession, there was sufficient +for both. Anything rather than Roy should be crossed in his ambition! I +call that generous, Mildred.' + +'And I; but I am a little surprised at my brother making such a point of +Richard being a clergyman; he is very reticent at times. Come, Ethel, +you look mysterious. I suppose you can explain even this?' + +'I can; but at least you are hardly such a stranger to your own nephews +and nieces as not to be aware of the worldly consideration there is +involved.' + +'You forget,' returned Mildred, sadly, 'what a bad correspondent my +brother is; Betha was better, but it was not often the busy house-mother +could find leisure for long chatty letters. You are surely not speaking +of what happened when Richard was fourteen?' + +Ethel nodded and continued: + +'That accounts of course for his being in such favour at the Palace. +They say the Bishop and Mrs. Douglas would do anything for him--that +they treat him as though he were their own son; Rolf and he are to go to +the same college--Magdalen, too, though Mr. Lambert wanted him to go to +Queen's; they say, if anything happened to Mr. Lambert, that Richard +would be sure of the living; in a worldly point of view it certainly +sounds better than a briefless barrister.' + +'Ethel, you must not say such things. I cannot allow that my brother +would be influenced by such worldly considerations tempting as they +are,' replied Mildred, indignantly. + +But Ethel laid her hand softly on her arm. + +'Dear Mildred, this is only one side of the question; that something far +deeper is involved I know from Richard himself; I heard it years ago, +when Cardie was younger, and had not learned to be proud and cold with +his old playmate,' and Ethel's tone was a little sad. + +'May I know?' asked Mildred, pleadingly; 'there is no fear of Richard +ever telling me himself.' + +Ethel hesitated slightly. + +'He might not like it; but no, there can be no harm; you ought to know +it, Mildred; until now it seemed so beautiful--Richard thought so +himself.' + +'You mean that Betha wished it as well as Arnold?' + +'Ah! you have guessed it. What if the parents, in the fulness of their +fresh young happiness, desired to dedicate their first-born to the +priesthood, would not this better fit your conception of your brother's +character, always so simple and unconventional?' + +A gleam of pleasure passed over Mildred's face, but it was mixed with +pain. A fresh light seemed thrown on Richard's difficulty; she could +understand the complication now. With Richard's deep love for his +mother, would he not be tempted to regard her wishes as binding, all the +more that it involved sacrifice on his part? + +'It might be so, but Richard should not feel it obligatory to carry out +his parents' wish if there be any moral hindrance,' she continued +thoughtfully. + +'That is what I tell him. I have reason to know that it was a favourite +topic of conversation between the mother and son, and Mrs. Lambert often +assured me, with tears in her eyes, that Richard was ardent to follow +his father's profession. I remember on the eve of his confirmation that +he told me himself that he felt he was training for the noblest vocation +that could fall to the lot of man. Until two years ago there was no hint +of repugnance, not a whisper of dissent; no wonder all this is a blow to +his father!' + +'No, indeed!' assented Mildred. + +'Can you guess what has altered him so?' continued Ethel, with a +scrutinising glance. 'I have noticed a gradual change in him the last +two or three years; he is more reserved, less candid in every way. I +confess I have hardly understood him of late.' + +'He has not recovered his mother's death,' returned Mildred, evasively; +it was a relief to her that Ethel was in ignorance of the real cause of +the change in Richard. She herself was the only person who held the full +clue to the difficulty; Richard's reserve had baffled his father. Mr. +Lambert had no conception of the generous scruples that had hindered his +son's confidence, and prevented him from availing himself of his +tempting offer; and as she thought of the Coeur-de-Lion look with +which he had repelled Ethel's glowing description, a passionate pity +woke in her heart, and for the moment she forgave the chafed bitter +temper, in honest consideration for the noble struggle that preceded it. + +'What were you telling me about Richard and young Douglas?' she asked, +after a minute's pause, during which Ethel, disappointed by her +unexpected reserve, had relapsed into silence. 'Betha was ill at the +time, or I should have had a more glowing description than Arnold's +brief paragraph afforded me. I know Richard jumped into the mill-stream +and pulled one of the young Douglases out; but I never heard the +particulars.' + +'You astonish me by your cool manner of talking about it. It was an act +of pure heroism not to be expected in a boy of fourteen; all the county +rang with it for weeks afterwards. He and Rolf were playing down by the +mill, at Dalston, a few miles from the Palace, and somehow Rolf slipped +over the low parapet: you know the mill-stream: it has a dangerous eddy, +and there is a dark deep pool that makes you shudder to look at: the +miller's man heard Richard's shout of distress, but he was at the +topmost story, and long before he could have got to the place the lad +must have been swept under the wheel. Richard knew this, and the gallant +little fellow threw off his jacket and jumped in. Rolf could not swim, +but Richard struck out with all his might and caught him by his sleeve +just as the eddy was sucking him in. Richard was strong even then, and +he would have managed to tow him into shallow water but for Rolf's +agonised struggles; as it was, he only just managed to keep his head +above water, and prevent them both from sinking until help came. +Braithwaite had not thrown the rope a moment too soon, for, as he told +the Bishop afterwards, both the boys were drifting helplessly towards +the eddy. Richard's strength was exhausted by Rolf's despairing +clutches, but he had drawn Rolf's head on his breast and was still +holding him up; he fainted as they were hauled up the bank, and as it +was, his heroism cost him a long illness. I have called him +Coeur-de-Lion ever since.' + +'Noble boy!' returned Mildred, with sparkling eyes; but they were dim +too. + +'There, I hear the horses! how quickly time always passes in your +company, Mildred. Good-bye; I must not give papa time to get one foot +out of the stirrup, or he will tell me I have kept him waiting;' and +leaving Mildred to follow her more leisurely, Ethel gathered up her long +habit and quickly disappeared. + +Later that evening as Dr. Heriot passed through the dusky courtyard, he +found Mildred waiting in the porch. + +'How late you are; I almost feared you were not coming to-night,' she +said anxiously, in answer to his cheery 'good evening.' + +'Am I to flatter myself that you were watching for me then?' he +returned, veiling a little surprise under his usual light manner. 'How +are all the tempers, Miss Lambert? I hope I am not required to call +spirits blue and gray from the vasty deep, as I am not sure that I feel +particularly sportive to-night.' + +'I wanted to speak to you about Olive,' returned Mildred, quietly +ignoring the banter. 'She does not seem well. The headache was fully +accounted for yesterday, but I do not like the look of her to-night. I +felt her pulse just now, and it was quick, weak, and irregular, and she +was complaining of giddiness and a ringing in her ears.' + +'I have noticed she has not looked right for some days, especially on +St. Peter's day. Do you wish me to see her?' he continued, with a touch +of professional gravity. + +'I should be much obliged if you would,' she returned, gratefully; 'she +is in my room at present, as Chriss's noise disturbs her. Your visit +will put her out a little, as any questioning about her health seems to +make her irritable.' + +'She will not object to an old friend; anyhow, we must brave her +displeasure. Will you lead the way, Miss Lambert?' + +They found Olive sitting huddled up in her old position, and looking wan +and feverish. She shaded her eyes a little fretfully from the candle +Mildred carried, and looked at Dr. Heriot rather strangely and with some +displeasure. + +'How do you feel to-night, Olive?' he asked kindly, possessing himself +with some difficulty of the dry languid hand, and scrutinising with +anxiety the sunken countenance before him. Two days of agitation and +suppressed illness had quite altered the girl's appearance. + +'I am well--at least, only tired--there is nothing the matter with me. +Aunt Milly ought not to have troubled you,' still irritably. + +'Aunt Milly knows trouble is sometimes a pleasure. You are not well, +Olive, or you would not be so cross with your old friend.' + +She hesitated, put up her hand to her head, and looked ready to burst +into tears. + +'Come,' he continued, sitting down beside her, and speaking gently as +though to a child, 'you are ill or unhappy--or both, and talking makes +your head ache.' + +'Yes,' she returned, mechanically, 'it is always aching now, but it is +nothing.' + +'Most people are not so stoical. You must not keep things so much to +yourself, Olive. If you would own the truth I daresay you have felt +languid and disinclined to move for several days?' + +'I daresay. I cannot remember,' she faltered; but his keen, steady +glance was compelling her to rouse herself. + +'And you have not slept well, and your limbs ache as though you were +tired and bruised, and your thoughts get a little confused and +troublesome towards evening.' + +'They are always that,' she returned, heavily; but she did not refuse to +answer the few professional questions that Dr. Heriot put. His grave +manner, and the thoughtful way in which he watched Olive, caused Mildred +some secret uneasiness; it struck her that the girl was a little +incoherent in her talk. + +'Well--well,' he said, cheerfully, laying down the hand, 'you must give +up the fruitless struggle and submit to be nursed well again. Get her to +bed, Miss Lambert, and keep her and the room as cool as possible. She +will remain here, I suppose,' he continued abruptly, and as Mildred +assented, he seemed relieved. 'I will send her some medicine at once. I +shall see you downstairs presently,' he finished pointedly; and Mildred, +who understood him, returned in the affirmative. She was longing to have +Dr. Heriot's opinion; but she was too good a nurse not to make the +patient her first consideration. Supper was over by the time the draught +was administered, and Olive left fairly comfortable with Nan within +earshot. The girls had already retired to their rooms, and Dr. Heriot +was evidently waiting for Mildred, for he seemed absent and slightly +inattentive to the vicar's discourse. Richard, who was at work over some +of his father's papers, made no attempt to join in the conversation. + +Mr. Lambert interrupted himself on Mildred's entrance. + +'By the bye, Milly, have you spoken to Heriot about Olive?' + +'Yes, I have seen her, Mr. Lambert; her aunt was right; the girl is very +far from well.' + +'Nothing serious, I hope,' ejaculated the vicar, while Richard looked up +quickly from his writing. Dr. Heriot looked a little embarrassed. + +'I shall judge better to-morrow; the symptoms will be more decided; but +I am afraid--that is, I am nearly certain--that it is a touch of typhoid +fever.' + +The stifled exclamation came not from the vicar, but from the farthest +corner of the room. Mr. Lambert merely turned a little paler, and +clasped his hands. + +'God forbid, Heriot! That poor child!' + +'We shall know in a few hours for certain--she is ill, very ill I should +say.' + +'But she was with us, she dined with us to-day,' gasped Richard, unable +to comprehend what was the true state of the case. + +'It is not uncommon for people who are really ill of fever to go about +for some days until they can struggle with the feelings of illness no +longer. To-night there is slight confusion and incoherence, and the +ringing in the ears that is frequently the forerunner of delirium; she +will be a little wandering to-night,' he continued, turning to Mildred. + +'You must give me your instructions,' she returned, with the calmness of +one to whom illness was no novelty; but Mr. Lambert interrupted her. + +'Typhoid fever; the very thing that caused such mortality in the Farrer +and Bales' cottages last year.' + +'I should not be surprised if we find Olive has been visiting there of +late, and inhaling some of the poisonous gases. I have always said this +place is enough to breed a fever; the water is unwholesome, too, and she +is so careless that she may have forgotten how strongly I condemned it. +The want of waterworks, and the absence of the commonest precautions, +are the crying evils of a place like this.' And Dr. Heriot threw up his +head and began to pace the room, as was his fashion when roused or +excited, while he launched into bitter invectives against the suicidal +ignorance that set health at defiance by permitting abuses that were +enough to breed a pestilence. + +The full amount of the evil was as yet unknown to Mildred; but +sufficient detail was poured into her shrinking ear to justify Dr. +Heriot's indignation, and she was not a little shocked to find the happy +valley was not exempt from the taint of fatal ignorance and prejudice. + +'Your old hobby, Heriot,' said Mr. Lambert, with a faint smile; 'but at +least the Board of Guardians are taking up the question seriously now.' + +'How could they fail to do so after the last report of the medical +officer of health? We shall get our waterworks now, I suppose, through +stress of hard fighting; but----' + +'But my poor child----' interrupted Mr. Lambert, anxiously. + +Dr. Heriot paused in his restless walk. + +'Will do well, I trust, with her youth, sound constitution, and your +sister's good nursing. I was going to say,' he continued, turning to Mr. +Lambert, 'that with your old horror of fevers, you would be glad if the +others were to be removed from any possible contagion that might arise; +though, as I have already told you, that I cannot pronounce decidedly +whether it be the _typhus mitior_ or the other; in a few hours the +symptoms will be decided. But anyhow it is as well to be on the safe +side, and Polly and Chriss can come to me; we can find plenty of room +for Richard and Royal as well.' + +'You need not arrange for me--I shall stay with my father and Aunt +Milly,' returned Richard abruptly, tossing back the wave of dark hair +that lay on his forehead, and pushing away his chair. + +'Nay, Cardie, I shall not need you; and your aunt will find more leisure +for her nursing if you are all off her hands. I shall be easier too. +Heriot knows my old nervousness in this respect. + +'I shall not leave you, father,' was Richard's sole rejoinder; but his +father's affectionate and anxious glance was unperceived as he quickly +gathered up the papers and left the room. + +'I think Dick is right,' returned Dr. Heriot, cheerfully. 'The vicarage +need not be cleared as though it were the pestilence. Now, Miss Lambert, +I will give you a few directions, and then I must say good-night.' + +When Mildred returned to her charge, she found Richard standing by the +bedside, contemplating his sister with a grave, impassive face. Olive +did not seem to notice him; she was moving restlessly on her pillow, her +dark hair unbound and falling on her flushed face. Richard gathered it +up gently and looked at his aunt. + +'We may have to get rid of some of it to-morrow,' she whispered; 'what a +pity, it is so long and beautiful; but it will prevent her losing all. +You must not stay now, Richard; I fancy it disturbs her,' as Olive +muttered something drowsily, and flung her arms about a little wildly; +'leave her to me to-night, dear; I will come to you first thing +to-morrow morning, and tell you how she is.' + +'Thank you,' he replied, gratefully. + +Mildred was not wrong in her surmises that something like remorse for +his unkindness made him stoop over the bed with the softly uttered +'Good-night, Livy.' + +'Good-night,' she returned, drowsily. 'Don't trouble about me, Cardie;' +and with that he was fain to retire. + +Things continued in much the same state for days. Dr. Heriot's opinion +of the nature of the disease was fully confirmed. There was no abatement +of fever, but an increase of debility. Olive's delirium was never +violent--it was rather a restlessness and confusion of thought; she lay +for hours in a semi-somnolent state, half-muttering to herself, yet +without distinct articulation. Now and then a question would rouse her, +and she would give a rational answer; but she soon fell back into the +old drowsy state again. + +Her nights were especially troubled in this respect. In the day she was +comparatively quiet; but for many successive nights all natural sleep +departed from her, and her confused and incoherent talk was very painful +to hear. + +Mildred fancied that Richard's presence made her more restless than at +other times; but when she hinted this, he looked so pained that she +could not find it in her heart to banish him, especially as his ready +strength and assistance were a great comfort to her. Mildred had refused +all exterior help. Nan's watchful care was always available during her +hours of necessary repose, and Mildred had been so well trained in the +school of nursing, that a few hours' sound sleep would send her back to +her post rested and refreshed. Dr. Heriot's admiration of his model +nurse, as he called her, was genuine and loudly expressed; and he often +assured Mr. Lambert, when unfavourable symptoms set in, that if Olive +recovered it would be mainly owing to her aunt's unwearied nursing. + +Mildred often wondered what she would have done without Richard, as +Olive grew weaker, and the slightest exertion brought on fainting, or +covered her with a cold, clammy sweat. Richard's strong arms were of use +now to lift her into easier positions. Mildred never suffered him to +share in the night watches, for which she and Nan were all-sufficient; +but the last thing at night, and often before the early dawn, his pale +anxious face would be seen outside the door; and all through the day he +was ever at hand to render valuable assistance. Once Mildred was +surprised to hear her name softly called from the far end of the lobby, +and on going out she found herself face to face with Ethel Trelawny. + +'Oh, Ethel! this is very wrong. Your father----' + +'I told her so,' returned Richard, who looked half grateful and half +uneasy; 'but she would come--she said she must see you. Aunt Milly looks +pale,' he continued, turning to Ethel; 'but we cannot be surprised at +that--she gets so little sleep.' + +'You will be worn out, Mildred. Papa will be angry, I know; but I cannot +help it. I mean to stay and nurse Olive.' + +'My dear Ethel!' Richard uttered an incredulous exclamation; but Miss +Trelawny was evidently in earnest; her fine countenance looked pale and +saddened. + +'I can and must; do let me, Mildred. I have often stayed up all night +for my own pleasure.' + +'But you are so unused to illness--it cannot be thought of for a +moment,' ejaculated Richard in alarm. + +'Women nurse by instinct. I should look at Mildred--she would soon +teach me. Why do you all persist in treating me as though I were quite +helpless? Papa is wrong; typhoid fever is not infectious, and if it +were, what use am I to any one? My life is not of as much consequence as +Mildred's.' + +'There is always the risk of contagion, and--and--why will you always +speak of yourself so recklessly, Miss Trelawny?' interposed Richard in a +pained voice, 'when you know how precious your life is to us all;' but +Ethel turned from him impatiently. + +'Mildred, you will let me come?' + +'No, Ethel, indeed I cannot, though I am very grateful to you for +wishing it. Your father is your first consideration, and his wishes +should be your law.' + +'Papa is afraid of everything,' she pleaded; 'he will not let me go into +the cottages where there is illness, and----' + +'He is right to take care of his only child,' replied Mildred, calmly. + +Richard seemed relieved. + +'I knew you would say so, Aunt Milly; we are grateful--more grateful +than I can say, dear Miss Trelawny; but I knew it ought not to be.' + +'And you must not come here again without your father's permission,' +continued Mildred, gently, and taking her hands; 'we have to remember +sometimes that to obey is better than sacrifice, dear Ethel. I am +grieved to disappoint your generous impulse,' as the girl turned +silently away with the tears in her eyes. + +'Dr. Heriot said I should have no chance, and Richard was as bad. Well, +good-bye,' trying to rally her spirits as she saw Mildred looked really +pained. 'I envy you your labour of love, Mildred; it is sweet--it must +be sweet to be really useful to some one;' and the sigh that accompanied +her words evidently came from a deep place in Ethel Trelawny's heart. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE GATE AJAR + + Oh, live! + So endeth faint the low pathetic cry + Of love, whom death hath taught, love cannot die.' + + _Poems by the Author of 'John Halifax.'_ + + + 'His dews drop mutely on the hill, + His cloud above it saileth still, + Though on its slope men sow and reap: + More softly than the dew is shed, + Or cloud is floated overhead, + He giveth His beloved sleep.'--E. B. Browning. + + +The fever had run its course,--never virulent or excessive, there had +still been no abatement in the unfavourable symptoms, and, as the +critical days approached, Mildred's watchfulness detected an increased +gravity in Dr. Heriot's manner. Always assiduous in his attentions, they +now became almost unremitting; his morning and evening visits were +supplemented by a noonday one; by and by every moment he could snatch +from his other patients was spent by Olive's bedside. + +A silent oppression hung over the vicarage; anxious footsteps crept +stealthily up to the front door at all hours, with low-whispered +inquiries. Every morning and evening Mildred telegraphed signals to Roy +and Polly as they stood on the other side of the beck in Hillsbottom, +watching patiently for the white fluttering pendant that was to send +them away in comparative tranquillity. Sometimes Roy would climb the low +hill in Hillsbottom, and lie for hours, with his eyes fixed on the broad +projecting window, on the chance of seeing Mildred steal there for a +moment's fresh air. Roy, contrary to his usual light-heartedness, had +taken Olive's illness greatly to heart; the remembrance of his hard +words oppressed and tormented him. Chriss often kept him +company--Chriss, who grew crosser day by day with suppressed +unhappiness, and who vented her uncomfortable feelings in contradicting +everything and everybody from morning to night. + +One warm sunshiny afternoon, Mildred, who was sensible of unusual +languor and oppression, had just stolen to the window to refresh her +eyes with the soft green of the fellsides, when Dr. Heriot, who had been +standing thoughtfully by the bedside, suddenly roused himself and +followed her. + +'Miss Lambert, do you know I am going to assert my authority?' + +Mildred looked up inquiringly, but there was no answering smile on her +pale face. + +'I am going to forbid you this room for the next two hours. Indeed,' as +Mildred shook her head incredulously, 'I am serious in what I say; you +have just reached the limit of endurance, and an attack of faintness may +possibly be the result, if you do not follow my advice. An hour's fresh +air will send you back fit for your work.' + +'But Olive! indeed I cannot leave Olive, Dr. Heriot.' + +'Not in my care?' very quietly. 'Of course I shall remain here until you +return.' + +'You are very kind; but indeed--no--I cannot go; please do not ask me, +Dr. Heriot;' and Mildred turned very pale. + +'I do not ask, I insist on it,' in a voice Mildred never heard before +from Dr. Heriot. 'Can you not trust me?' he continued, relapsing into +his ordinary gentle tone. 'Believe me, I would not banish you but for +your own good. You know'--he hesitated; but the calm, quiet face seemed +to reassure him--'things can only go on like this for a few hours, and +we may have a very trying night before us. You will want all your +strength for the next day or two.' + +'You apprehend a change for the worse?' asked Mildred, drawing her +breath more quickly, but speaking in a tone as low as his, for Richard +was watching them anxiously from the other end of the room. + +'I do not deny we have reason to fear it,' he returned, evasively; 'but +there will be no change of any kind for some hours.' + +'I will go, then, if Richard will take me,' she replied, quietly; and +Richard rose reluctantly. + +'You must not bring her back for two hours,' was Dr. Heriot's parting +injunction, as Mildred paused by Olive's bedside for a last lingering +look. Olive still lay in the same heavy stupor, only broken from time to +time by the imperfect muttering. The long hair had all been cut off, and +only a dark lock or two escaped from under the wet cloths; the large +hollow eyes looked fixed and brilliant, while the parched and blackened +lips spoke of low, consuming fever. As Mildred turned away, she was +startled by the look of anguish that crossed Richard's face; but he +followed her without a word. + +It was a lovely afternoon in July, the air was full of the warm +fragrance of new-mown hay, the distant fells lay in purple shadow. As +they walked through Hillsbottom, Mildred's eyes were almost dazzled by +the soft waves of green upland shining in the sunshine. Clusters of pink +briar roses hung on every hedge; down by the weir some children were +wading among the shallow pools; farther on the beck widened, and flowed +smoothly between its wooded banks. By and by they came to a rough +footbridge, leading to a little lane, its hedgerows bordered with ferns, +and gay with rose-campion and soft blue harebells, while trails of +meadow-sweet scented the air; beyond, lay a beautiful meadow, belting +Podgill, its green surface gemmed with the starry eyebright, and golden +in parts with yellow trefoil and ragwort. + +Mildred stooped to gather, half mechanically, the blue-eyed gentian that +Richard was crushing under his foot; and then a specimen of the +soft-tinted campanella attracted her, its cluster of bell-shaped +blossoms towering over the other wildflowers. + +'Shall we go down into Podgill, Aunt Milly, it is shadier than this +lane?' and Mildred, who was revolving painful thoughts in her mind, +followed him, still silent, through the low-hanging woods, with its +winding beck and rough stepping-stones, until they came to a green +slope, spanned by the viaduct. + +'Let us sit down here, Richard; how quiet and cool it is!' and Mildred +seated herself on the grass, while Richard threw himself down beside +her. + +'How silent we have been, Richard. I don't think either of us cared to +talk; but Dr. Heriot was right--I feel refreshed already.' + +'I am glad we came then, Aunt Milly.' + +'I never knew any one so thoughtful. Richard, I want to speak to you; +did you ever find out that Olive wrote poetry?' + +Richard raised himself in surprise. + +'No, Aunt Milly.' + +'I want to show you this; it was written on a stray leaf, and I ventured +to capture it; it may help you to understand that in her own way Olive +has suffered.' + +Richard took the paper from her without a word; but Mildred noticed his +hand shook. Was it cruel thus to call his hardness to remembrance? For a +moment Mildred's soft heart wavered over the task she had set for +herself. + +It was scrawled in Olive's school-girl hand, and in some parts was hard +to decipher, especially as now and then a blot of teardrops had rendered +it illegible; but nevertheless Richard succeeded in reading it. + + 'How speed our lost in the Unknown Land, + Our dear ones gone to that distant strand? + Do they know that our hearts are sore + With longing for faces that never come, + With longing to hear in our silent home + The voices that sound no more? + There's a desolate look by the old hearth-stone, + That tells of some light of the household gone + To dwell with the ransomed band; + But none may follow their upward track, + And never, ah! never, a word comes back + To tell of the Unknown Land! + + 'We know by a gleam on the brow so pale, + When the soul bursts forth from its mortal veil, + And the gentle and good departs, + That the dying ears caught the first faint ring + Of the songs of praise that the angels sing; + But back to our yearning hearts + Comes never, ah! never, a word to tell + That the purified spirit we love so well + Is safe on the heavenly strand; + That the Angel of Death has another gem + To set in the star-decked diadem + Of the King of the Unknown Land! + + 'How speed our lost in the realms of air + We would ask--we would ask, Do they love us there? + Do they know that our hearts are sore, + That the cup of sorrow oft overflows, + And our eyes grow dim with weeping for those-- + For those who shall "weep no more "? + And when the Angel of Death shall call, + And earthly chains from about us fall, + Will they meet us with clasping hand? + But never, ah! never a voice replies + From the "many mansions" above the skies + To tell of the Unknown Land!'[1] + +[Footnote 1: H. M. B.] + +'Aunt Milly, why did you show me this? and Richard's eyes, full of +reproachful pain, fixed themselves somewhat sternly on her face. + +'Because I want you to understand. Look, there is another on the next +leaf; see, she has called it "A little while" and "for ever." My poor +girl, every word is so true of her own earnest nature.' + + '"For ever," they are fading, + Our beautiful, our bright; + They gladden us "a little while," + Then pass away from sight; + "A little while" we're parted + From those who love us best, + Who gain the goal before us + And enter into rest. + + 'Our path grows very lonely, + And still those words beguile, + And cheer our footsteps onward; + 'Tis but a little while. + 'A little while earth's sorrow,-- + Its burdens and its care, + Its struggles 'neath the crosses, + Which we of earth must bear. + + 'There's time to do and suffer-- + To work our Master's will, + But not for vain regretting + For thoughts or deeds of ill. + Too short to spend in weeping + O'er broken hopes and flowers, + For wandering and wasting, + Is this strange life of ours. + + 'Though, when our cares oppress us, + Earth's "little while" seems long, + If we would win the battle + We must be brave and strong. + And so with humble spirit, + But highest hopes and aim, + The goal so often longed for + We may perhaps attain. + + '"For ever" and "for ever" + To dwell among the blest, + Where sorrows never trouble + The deep eternal rest; + When one by one we gather + Beneath our Father's smile, + And Heaven's sweet "for ever" + Drowns earth's sad "little while."'[2] + +'Well, Richard?' + +[Footnote 2: H. M. B.] + +But there was no answer; only the buzzing of insects in giddy circles +broke the silence, mingled with the far-off twitter of birds. Only when +Mildred again looked up, the paper had fluttered to their feet, and +Richard had covered his face with his shaking hands. + +'Dear Cardie, forgive me; I did not mean to pain you like this.' + +'Aunt Milly,' in a voice so hoarse and changed that Mildred quite +started, 'if she die, if Olive die, I shall never know a moment's peace +again;' and the groan that accompanied the words wrung Mildred's tender +heart with compassion. + +'God forbid we should lose her, Richard,' she returned, gently. + +'Do not try to deceive me,' he returned, bitterly, in the same low, +husky tones. 'I heard what he said--what you both said--that it could +not go on much longer; and I saw his face when he thought he was alone. +There is no hope--none.' + +'Oh, Richard, hush,' replied Mildred, in uncontrollable agitation; +'while there is life, there is hope. Think of David, "While the child +was yet alive I fasted and wept;" he could not tell whether God meant to +be gracious to him or not. We will pray, you and I, that our girl may be +spared.' + +But Richard recoiled in positive horror. + +'I pray, Aunt Milly? I, who have treated her so cruelly? I, who have +flung hard words to her, who have refused to forgive her? I----' and he +hid his pale, convulsed face in his hands again. + +'But you have forgiven her now, you do her justice. You believe how +truly she loved, she will ever love you.' + +'Too late,' he groaned. 'Yes, I see it now, she was too good for us; we +made her unhappy, and God is taking her home to her mother.' + +'Then you will let her go, dear Cardie. Hush, it would break her heart +to see you so unhappy;' and Mildred knelt down on the grass beside him, +and stroked back the dark waves of hair tenderly. She knew the pent-up +anguish of weeks must have its vent, now that his stoical manhood had +broken down. Remorse, want of rest, deadly conflict and anxiety, had at +last overcome the barrier of his reserve; and, as he flung himself down +beside her, with his face hidden in the bracken, she knew the hot tears +were welling through his fingers. + +For a long time she sat beside him, till his agitation had subsided; and +then, in her low, quiet voice, she began to talk to him. She spoke of +Olive's purity and steadfastness of purpose, her self-devotedness and +power of love; and Richard raised his head to listen. She told him of +those Sunday afternoons spent by her mother's grave, that quiet hour of +communion bracing her for the jars and discords of the week. And she +hinted at those weary moods of perpetual self-torture and endless +scruple, which hindered all vigorous effort and clouded her youth. + +'A diseased sensibility and overmuch imagination have resulted in the +despondency that has so discouraged and annoyed you, Richard. She has +dwelt so long among shadows of her own raising, that she has grown a +weary companion to healthier minds; her very love is so veiled by +timidity that it has given you an impression of her coldness.' + +'Blind fool that I was,' he ejaculated. 'Oh, Aunt Milly, do you think +she can ever forgive me?' + +'There can be no question of forgiveness at all; do not distress her by +asking for it, Richard. Olive's heart is as simple as a little child's; +it is not capable of resentment. Tell her that you love her, and you +will make her happy.' + +Richard did not answer for a minute, his thoughts had suddenly taken a +new turn. + +'I never could tell how it was she read me so correctly,' he said at +last; 'her telling my father, and not me, was so incomprehensible.' + +'She did not dare to speak to you, and she was so unhappy; but, Richard, +even Olive does not hold the clue to all this trouble.' + +He started nervously, changed colour, and plucked the blades of grass +restlessly. But in his present softened mood, Mildred knew he would not +repulse her; trouble might be near at hand, but at least he would not +refuse her sympathy any longer. + +'Dear Cardie, your difficulty is a very real one, and only time and +prayerful consideration can solve it; but beware how you let the wishes +of your dead mother, dear and binding as they may be to you, prove a +snare to your conscience. Richard, I knew her well enough to be sure +that was the last thing she would desire.' + +The blood rushed to Richard's face, eager words rose to his lips, but he +restrained them; but the grateful gleam in his eyes spoke volumes. + +'That is your real opinion, Aunt Milly.' + +'Indeed it is. Unready hands, an unprepared heart, are not fit for the +sanctuary. I may wish with you that difficulties had not arisen, that +you could carry out your parents' dedication and wish; but vocation +cannot be forced, neither must you fall into Olive's mistake of +supposing self-sacrifice is the one thing needful. After all, our first +duty is to be true to ourselves.' + +'Aunt Milly, how wise you are!' he exclaimed in involuntary admiration. +'No one, not even my father, put it so clearly. You are right, I do not +mean to sacrifice myself unless I can feel it my duty to do so. But it +is a question I must settle with myself.' + +'True, dear, only remember the brave old verse-- + + "Stumbleth he who runneth fast? + Dieth he who standeth still? + Not by haste or rest can ever + Man his destiny fulfil." + +"Never hasting, never resting," a fine life-motto, Cardie; but our time +is nearly at an end, we must be going now.' + +As they walked along, Richard returned of his own accord to the subject +they had been discussing, and owned his indecision was a matter of great +grief to him. + +'Conscientious doubts will find their answer some day,' replied Mildred; +'but I wish you had not refused to confide them to your father.' + +Richard bit his lip. + +'It was wrong of me; I know it, Aunt Milly; but it would have been so +painful to him, and so humiliating to myself.' + +'Hardly so painful as to be treated like a stranger by his own son. You +have no idea how sorely your reserve has fretted him.' + +'It was cowardly of me; but indeed, Aunt Milly, the whole question was +involved in difficulty. My father is sometimes a little vague in his +manner of treating things; he is more scholarly than practical, and I +own I dreaded complication and disappointment.' + +Mildred sighed. Perhaps after all he was right. Her brother was +certainly a little dreamy and wanting in concentration and energy just +now; but little did Richard know the depth of his father's affection. +Just as the old war-horse will neigh at the sound of the battle, and be +ready to rush into the midst of the glittering phalanx, so would Arnold +Lambert have warred with the grisly phantoms of doubt and misbelief that +were leagued against Richard's boyish faith, ready to lay down his life +if need be for his boy; but as he sat hour after hour in his lonely +study, the sadness closed more heavily round him--sadness for his lost +love in heaven, his lost confidence on earth. + +Dr. Heriot gave Mildred and Richard a searching glance as they +re-entered the room. Both looked worn and pale, but a softened and +subdued expression was on Richard's face as he stood by the bedside, +looking down on his sister. + +'No change,' whispered Mildred. + +'None at present; but there may be a partial rally. Where is Mr. +Lambert, I want to speak to him;' and, as though to check further +questioning, Dr. Heriot reiterated a few instructions, and left the +room. + +The hours passed on. Richard, in spite of his aunt's whispered +remonstrances, still kept watch beside her; and Mr. Lambert, who as +usual had been praying by the side of his sick child, and had breathed +over her unconsciousness his solemn benediction, had just left the room, +when Mildred, who was giving her nourishment, noticed a slight change in +Olive, a sudden gleam of consciousness in her eyes, perhaps called forth +by her father's prayer, and she signed to Richard to bring him back. + +Was this the rally of which Dr. Heriot spoke? the brief flicker of the +expiring torch flaming up before it is extinguished? Olive seemed trying +to concentrate her drowsy faculties, the indistinct muttering became +painfully earnest, but the unhappy father, though he placed his ear to +the lips of the sinking girl, could connect no meaning with the +inarticulate sounds, until Mildred's greater calmness came to his help. + +'Home. I think she said home, Arnold;' and then with a quick intuitive +light that surprised herself, 'I think she wishes to know if God means +to take her home.' + +Olive's restlessness a little abated. This time the parched and +blackened lips certainly articulated 'home' and 'mother.' They could +almost fancy she smiled. + +'Oh, do not leave me, my child,' ejaculated Mr. Lambert, stretching out +his arms as though to keep her. 'God is good and merciful; He will not +take away another of my darlings; stay a little longer with your poor +father;' and Olive understood him, for the bright gleam faded away. + +'Oh, father, she will surely stay if we ask her,' broke in Richard in an +agitated voice, thrusting himself between them and speaking with a +hoarse sob; 'she is so good, and knows we all love her and want her. You +will not break my heart, Livy, you will forgive me and stay with us a +little?' and Richard flung himself on his knees and buried his head on +the pillow. + +Ah, the bright gleam had certainly faded now; there was a wandering, +almost a terrified expression in the hollow, brilliant eyes. Were those +gates closing on her? would they not let her go? + +'Cardie, dear Cardie, hush, you are agitating her; look how her eyelids +are quivering and she has no power to speak. Arnold, ask him to be +calm,' and Mr. Lambert, still holding his seemingly dying child, laid +his other hand on Richard's bent head. + +'Hush, my son, we must not grieve a departing spirit. I was wrong. His +will be done even in this. He has given, and He must take away; be +silent while I bless my child again, my child whom I am giving back to +Him and to her mother,' but as he lifted up his hands the same feeble +articulation smote on their ear. + +'Cardie wants me--poor Cardie--poor papa--not my will.' + +Did Mildred really catch those words, struggling like broken +breaths?--was it the cold sweat of the death-damp that gathered on the +clammy brow?--were the fingers growing cold and nerveless on which +Richard's hot lips were pressed?--were those dark eyes closing to earth +for ever? + +'Mildred--Richard--what is this?' + +'"Lord, if he sleep he shall do well!" exclaimed the disciples.' + +'Hush; thank God, this is sleep, natural sleep,--the crisis is passed, +we shall save her yet,' and Dr. Heriot, who had just entered, beckoned +the father and brother gently from the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +COMING BACK + + 'If Thou shouldst bring me back to life, + More humble I should be, + More wise, more strengthened for the strife + More apt to lean on Thee. + Should death be standing at the gate, + Thus should I keep my vow, + But, Lord! whatever be my fate, + Oh, let me serve Thee now!'--Anne Bronte. + + +'This sickness is not unto death.' + +The news that the crisis had passed, and that the disease that had so +long baffled the physician's skill had taken a favourable turn, soon +spread over the town like wildfire; the shadow of death no longer +lingered on the threshold of the vicarage; there were trembling voices +raised in the _Te Deum_ the next morning; the vicar's long pause in the +Thanksgiving was echoed by many a throbbing heart; Mildred's book was +wet with her tears, and even Chrissy looked softened and subdued. + +There were agitated greetings in the church porch afterwards. Olive's +sick heart would have been satisfied with the knowledge that she was +beloved if she had seen Roy's glistening eyes and the silent pressure of +congratulation that passed between her father and Richard. + +'Heriot, we feel that under Providence we owe our girl's life to you.' + +'You are equally beholden to her aunt's nursing; but indeed, Mr. +Lambert, I look upon your daughter's recovery as little less than a +miracle. I certainly felt myself justified to prepare you for the worst +last night; at one time she appeared to be sinking.' + +'She has been given back to us from the confines of the grave,' was the +solemn answer; and as he took his son's arm and they walked slowly down +the churchyard, he said, half to himself--'and a gift given back is +doubly precious.' + +The same thought seemed in his mind when Richard entered the study late +that night with the welcome tidings that Olive was again sleeping +calmly. + +'Oh, Cardie, last night we thought we should have lost our girl; after +all, God has been good to me beyond my deserts.' + +'We may all say that, father.' + +'I have been thinking that we have none of us appreciated Olive as we +ought; since she has been ill a hundred instances of her unselfishness +have occurred to me; in our trouble, Cardie, she thought for others, not +for herself. I never remember seeing her cry except once, and yet the +dear child loved her mother.' + +Richard's face paled a little, but he made no answer; he remembered but +too well the time to which his father alluded--how, when in his jealous +surveillance he had banished her from her father's room, he had found +her haunting the passages with her pale face and black dress, or sitting +on the stairs, a mute image of patience. + +No, there had been no evidence of her grief; others beside himself had +marvelled at her changeless and monotonous calm; she had harped on her +mother's name with a persistency that had driven him frantic, and he had +silenced the sacred syllables in a fit of nervous exasperation; from the +very first she had troubled and wearied him, she whom he was driven to +confess was immeasurably his superior. Yes, the scales had fallen from +his eyes, and as his father spoke a noble spirit pleaded in him, and the +rankling confession at last found vent in the deep inward cry-- + +'Father, I have sinned against heaven and before Thee, in that I have +offended one of Thy little ones,' and the _Deo gratias_ of an accepted +repentance and possible atonement followed close upon the words. + +'Father, I want to speak to you.' + +'Well, Cardie.' + +'I know how my silence has grieved you; Aunt Milly told me. I was +wrong--I see it now.' + +Richard's face was crimsoning with the effort, but the look in his +father's eyes as he laid his thin hand on his arm was sufficient reward. + +'Thank God for this, my boy, that you have spoken to me at last of your +own accord; it has lifted a heavy burden from my heart.' + +'I ought not to have refused my confidence; you were too good to me. I +did not deserve it.' + +'You thought you were strong enough to remove your own stumbling-blocks; +it is the fault of the young generation, Cardie; it would fain walk by +its own lights.' + +'I must allow my motives were mixed with folly, but the fear of +troubling you was predominant.' + +'I know it, I know it well, my son, but all the same I have yearned to +help you. I have myself to blame in this matter, but the thought that +you would not allow me to share your trouble was a greater punishment +than even I could bear; no, do not look so sorrowful, this moment has +repaid me for all my pain.' + +But it was not in Richard's nature to do anything by halves, and in his +generous compunction he refused to spare himself; the barrier of his +reserve once broken down, he made ample atonement for his past +reticence, and Mr. Lambert more than once was forced to admit that he +had misjudged his boy. + +Late into the night they talked, and when they parted the basis of a +perfect understanding was established between them; if his son's tardy +confidence had soothed and gratified Mr. Lambert, Richard on his side +was equally grateful for the patience and loving forbearance with which +his father strove to disentangle the webs that insidious argument had +woven in his clear young brain; there was much lurking mischief, much to +clear away and remove, difficulties that only time and prayerful +consideration could surmount; but however saddened Mr. Lambert might +feel in seeing the noxious weeds in that goodly vineyard, he was not +without hope that in time Richard's tarnished faith might gleam out +brightly again. + +During the weeks that ensued there were many opportunities for hours of +quiet study and talk between the father and son; in his new earnestness +Mr. Lambert became less vague, this fresh obstacle roused all his +energy; there was something pathetic in the spectacle of the worn +scholar and priest buckling on his ancient armour to do battle for his +boy; the old flash came to his eye, the ready vigour and eloquence to +his speech, gleams of sapient wisdom startled Richard into new +reverence, causing the young doubter to shrink and feel abashed. + +'If one could only know, if an angel from heaven might set the seal to +our assurance!' he exclaimed once. 'Father, only to know, to be sure of +these things.' + +'Oh, Cardie, what is that but following the example of the affectionate +but melancholy Didymus; "Blessed are they that have not seen and yet +have believed"; the drowning mariner cannot see the wind that is lashing +the waves that threaten to engulf his little bark, cannot "tell whence +it comes or whither it goes," yet faith settles the helm and holds the +rudder, and bids him cling to the spar when all seems over.' + +'But he feels it beyond and around him; he feels it as we feel the +warmth of the latent sunshine or the permeating influences of light; we +can see the light, father,' he continued eagerly, 'we can lift our eyes +eagle-wise to the sun if we will; why should our inner light be quenched +and clouded?' + +'To test our faith, to make us hold on more securely; after all, Cardie, +the world beyond--truth revealed--religion--look to us often through +life like light seen from the bottom of a well--below us darkness, then +space, narrowed to our perception, a glimmering of blue sky sown thick +with stars--light, keen and arrowy, shining somewhere in the depths; +some of us rise to the light, drawn irresistibly to it, a few remain at +the bottom of the well all their lives.' + +'And some are born blind.' + +'Let us leave them to the mercy of the Great Physician; in our case +scales may fall from our eyes, and still with imperfect vision we may +look up and see men as trees walking, but we must grope on still. Ah, my +boy, when in our religious hypochondria whole creeds desert us, and +shreds and particles only remain of a fragmentary and doubtful faith, +don't let us fight with shadows, which of their very nature elude and +fade out of our grasp; let us fall on our knees rather, Cardie, and +cry--"Lord, I believe--I will believe; help Thou my unbelief."' + +Many and many such talks were held, the hours and days slipping away, +Mildred meanwhile devoting herself to the precious work of nursing Olive +back to convalescence. + +It was a harder task than even Dr. Heriot expected; slowly, painfully, +almost unwillingly, the girl tottered back to life; now and then there +were sensible relapses of weakness; prostration, that was almost +deathlike, then a faint flicker, followed by a conscious rally, times +when they trembled and feared and then hoped again; when the shadowy +face and figure filled Mildred with vague alarm, and the blank +despondency in the large dark eyes haunted her with a sense of pain. + +In vain Mildred lavished on her the tenderest caresses; for days there +was no answering smile on the pallid face, and yet no invalid could be +more submissive. + +Unresistingly, uncomplainingly, Olive bore the weakness that was at +times almost unendurable; obediently she took from their hands the +nourishment they gave her; but there seemed no anxiety to shake off her +illness; it was as though she submitted to life rather than willed it, +nay, as though she received it back with a regret and reluctance that +caused even her unselfishness a struggle. + +Was the cloud returning? Had they been wrong to pray so earnestly for +her life? Would she come back to them a sadder and more weary Olive, to +tax their forbearance afresh, instead of winning an added love; was she +who had been as a little child set in their midst for an example of +patient humility, to carry this burden of despondent fear about with her +from the dark valley itself? + +Mildred was secretly trembling over these thoughts; they harassed and +oppressed her; she feared lest Richard's new reverence and love for his +sister should be impaired when he found the old infirmity still clinging +to her; even now the sad look in her eyes somewhat oppressed him. + +'Livy, you look sometimes as though you repented getting well,' he said +affectionately to her one day, when her languor and depression had been +very great. + +'Oh no, please don't say so, Cardie,' she returned faintly, but the last +trace of colour forsook her face at his words; 'how can--how can you say +that, when you know you wanted me?' and as the tears began to flow, +Richard, alarmed and perplexed, soothed and comforted her. + +Another day, when her father had been sitting by her, reading and +talking to her, he noticed that she looked at him with a sort of puzzled +wonder in her eyes. + +'What is it, my child?' he asked, leaning over her and stroking her hair +with caressing hand. 'Do you feel weary of the reading, Olive?' + +'No, oh no; it was beautiful,' she returned, with a trembling lip; 'I +was only thinking--wondering why you loved me.' + +'Love you, my darling! do not fathers love their children, especially +when they have such good affectionate children?' + +'But I am not good,' she returned, with something of her old shrinking. +'Oh, papa, why did you and Cardie want me so, your poor useless Olive; +even Cardie loves me now, and I have done nothing but lie here and give +trouble to you all; but you are all so good--so good,' and Olive buried +her pale face in her father's shoulder. + +The old self-depreciation waking up to life, the old enemy leaguing with +languor and despondency to mar the sweet hopefulness of convalescence. +Mildred in desperation determined to put her fears to the proof when +Olive grew strong enough to bear any conversation. + +The opportunity came sooner than she hoped. + +One day the cloud lifted a little. Roy had been admitted to his sister's +room, and his agitation and sorrow at her changed appearance and his +evident joy at seeing her again had roused Olive from her wonted +lethargy. Mildred found her afterwards lying exhausted but with a smile +on her face. + +'Dear Roy,' she murmured, 'how good he was to me. Oh, Aunt Milly,' +clasping Mildred's hands between her wasted fingers, 'I don't deserve +for them to be so dear and good to me, it makes me feel as though I were +wicked and ungrateful not to want to get well.' + +'I dreaded to hear you say this, Olive,' returned Mildred. As she sat +down beside her, her grieved look seemed a reproach to Olive. + +'It was not that I wanted to leave you all,' she said, laying her cheek +against the hand she held, 'but I have been such a trouble to every one +as well as to myself; it seemed so nice to have done with it all--all +the weariness and disappointment I mean.' + +'You were selfish for once in your life then, Olive,' returned Mildred, +trying to smile, but with a heavy heart. + +'I tried not to be,' she whispered. 'I did not want you to be sorry, +Aunt Milly, but I knew if I lived it would all come over again. It is +the old troublesome Olive you are nursing,' she continued softly, 'who +will try and disappoint you as she has always done. I can't get rid of +my old self, and that is why I am sorry.' + +'Sorry because we are glad; it is Olive and no other that we want.' + +'Oh, if I could believe that,' returned the girl, her eyes filling with +tears; 'but it sounds too beautiful to be true, and yet I know it was +only Cardie's voice that brought me back, he wanted me so badly, and he +asked me to stay. I heard him--I heard him sob, Aunt Milly,' clutching +her aunt with weak, nerveless fingers. + +'Are you sure, Olive? You were fainting, you know.' + +'Yes, I was falling--falling into dark, starry depths, full of living +creatures, wheels of light and flame seemed everywhere, and then +darkness. I thought mamma had got me in her arms, she seemed by me +through it all, and then I heard Cardie say I should break his heart, +and then he sobbed, and papa blessed me. I heard some gate close after +that, and mamma's arms seemed to loosen from me, and I knew then I was +not dying.' + +'But you were sorry, Olive.' + +'I tried not to be; but it was hard, oh, so hard, Aunt Milly. Think what +it was to have that door shut just as one's foot was on the threshold, +and when I thought it was all over and I had got mamma back again; but +it was wrong to grieve. I have not earned my rest.' + +'Hush, my child, you must not take up a new lease of life so sadly; this +is a gift, Olive, a talent straight from the Master's hands, to be +received with gratitude, to be used joyfully; by and by, when you are +stronger, you will find more beautiful work your death would have left +unfinished.' + +A weary look crossed Olive's face. + +'Shall I ever be strong enough to work again?' + +'You are working now; nay, my child,' as Olive looked up with languid +surprise, 'few of us are called upon to do a more difficult task than +yours; to take up life when we would choose death, to bear patiently the +discipline of suffering and inaction, to wait till He says "work."' + +'Dear Aunt Milly, you always say such comforting things. I thought I was +only doing nothing but give you trouble.' + +'There you were wrong, Olive; every time you suppress an impatient sigh, +every time you call up a smile to cheer us, you are advancing a step, +gaining a momentary advantage over your old enemy; you know my favourite +verses-- + + "Broadest streams from narrowest sources, + Noblest trees from meanest seeds, + Mighty ends from small beginnings, + From lowly promise lofty deeds. + + "Acorns which the winds have scattered, + Future navies may provide; + Thoughts at midnight, whispered lowly, + Prove a people's future guide." + +I am a firm believer in little efforts, Olive.' + +Olive was silent for a few minutes, but she appeared thinking deeply; +but when she spoke next it was in a calmer tone. + +'After all, Aunt Milly, want of courage is my greatest fault.' + +'I cannot deny it, dear.' + +'I am so afraid of responsibility that it seemed easier to die than to +face it. You were right; I was selfish to want to leave you all.' + +'You must try to rejoice with us that you are spared.' + +'Yes, I will try,' with a sigh; but as she began to look white and +exhausted, Mildred thought it wiser to drop the conversation. + +The family circle was again complete in the vicarage, and in the +evenings a part of the family always gathered in the sickroom. This was +hailed as a great privilege by the younger members--Roy, Polly, and +Chriss eagerly disputing it. It was an understood thing that Richard +should be always there; Olive seemed restless without him. Roy was her +next favourite; his gentleness and affection seemed to soothe her; but +Mildred noticed that Polly's bright flow of spirits somewhat oppressed +her, and it was not easy to check Chriss's voluble tongue. + +One evening Ethel was admitted. She had pleaded so hard that Richard had +at last overcome Olive's shrinking reluctance to face any one outside +the family circle; but even Olive's timidity was not proof against +Ethel's endearing ways; and as Miss Trelawny, shocked and distressed at +her changed appearance, folded the girl silently in her arms, the tears +gathered to her eyes, and for a moment she seemed unable to speak. + +'You must not be so sorry,' whispered Olive, gratefully; 'Aunt Milly +will soon nurse me quite well.' + +'But I was not prepared for such a change,' stammered Ethel. 'Dear +Olive, to think how you must have suffered! I should hardly have known +you; and yet,' she continued, impulsively, 'I never liked the look of +you so well.' + +'We tell her she has grown,' observed Richard, cheerfully; 'she has only +to get fat to make a fine woman. Aunt Milly has contrived such a +bewitching head-dress that we do not regret the loss of all that +beautiful hair.' + +'Oh, Cardie, as though that mattered;' but Olive blushed under her +brother's affectionate scrutiny. Ethel Trelawny was right when she owned +Olive's appearance had never pleased her more, emaciated and changed as +she was. The sad gentleness of the dark, unsmiling eyes was infinitely +attractive. The heavy sallowness was gone; the thin white face looked +fair and transparent; little rings of dark hair peeped under the lace +cap; but what struck Ethel most was the rapt and elevated expression of +the girl's face--a little dreamy, perhaps, but suggestive of another and +nobler Olive. + +'Oh, Olive, how strange it seems, to think you have come back to us +again, when Mildred thought you had gone!' ejaculated Ethel, in a tone +almost of awe. + +'Yes,' returned Olive, simply; 'I know what death means now. When I come +to die, I shall feel I know it all before.' + +'But you did not die, dear Olive!' exclaimed Ethel, in a startled voice. +'No one can know but Lazarus and the widow's son; and they have told us +nothing.' + +'Aunt Milly says they were not allowed to tell; she thinks there is +something awful in their silence; but all the same I shall always feel +that I know what dying means.' + +Ethel looked at her with a new reverence in her eyes. Was this the +stammering, awkward Olive? + +'Tell me what you mean,' she whispered gently; 'I cannot understand. One +must die before one can solve the mystery.' + +'And was I not dying?' returned Olive, in the same dreamy tone. 'When I +close my eyes I can bring it all back; the faintness, the dizziness, the +great circles of light, the deadly, shuddering cold creeping over my +limbs, every one weeping round me, and yet beyond a great silence and +darkness; we begin to understand what silence means then.' + +'A great writer once spoke of "voices at the other end of silence,"' +returned Ethel, in a stifled tone. This strange talk attracted and yet +oppressed her. + +'But silence itself--what is silence?--one sometimes stops to think +about it, and then its grandeur seems to crush one. What if silence be +the voice of God!' + +'Dear Livy, you must not excite yourself,' interrupted Richard; but his +tone was awestruck too. + +'Great thoughts do not excite,' she returned, calmly. She had forgotten +Ethel--all of them. From the couch where she lay she could see the dark +violet fells, the soft restful billows of green, silver splashes of +light through the trees. How peaceful and quiet it all looked. Ah! if it +had only been given her to walk in those green pastures and 'beside the +still waters of the Paradise of God;' if that day which shall be known +to the Lord 'had come to her when "at eventide it shall be +light;"'--eventide!--alas! for her there still must remain the burden +and heat of the day--sultry youth, weariness of premature age, 'light +that shall neither be clear nor dark,' before that blessed eventide +should come, 'and she should pass through the silence into the rest +beyond.' + +'Aunt Milly, if you or Cardie would read me something,' she said at +last, with a wonderful sadness in her voice; and as they hastened to +comply with her wish, the brief agitation vanished from her face. What +if it were not His will! what if some noble work stood ready to her +faltering hand, "content to fill a little space, if Thou be glorified!" +'Oh, I must learn to say that,' she whispered. + +'Are you tired, Livy?' asked Richard at last, as he paused a moment in +his reading; but there was no answer. Olive's eyes were closed. One thin +hand lay under her cheek, a tear hung on the eyelashes; but on the +sleeping face there lay an expression of quiet peace that was almost +childlike. + +It was noticed that Olive mended more rapidly from that evening. Dr. +Heriot had recommended change of air; and as Olive was too weak to bear +a long journey, Mildred took her to Redcar for a few weeks. Richard +accompanied them, but did not remain long, as his father seemed +unwilling to lose him during his last few months at home. + +During their absence two important events took place at the vicarage. +Dad Fabian paid his promised visit, and the new curate arrived. Polly's +and Chriss's letter brimmed over with news. 'Every one was delighted +with her dear old Dad,' Polly wrote; 'Richard was gracious, Mr. Lambert +friendly, and Roy enthusiastically admiring.' + +Dad had actually bought a new coat and had cut his hair, which Polly +owned was a grief to her; 'and his beard looked like everybody else's +beard,' wrote the girl with a groan. If it had not been for his +snuff-box she would hardly have known him. Some dealer had bought his +_Cain_, and the old man's empty pockets were replenished. + +It was a real joy to Olive's affectionate heart to know that Roy's +juvenile efforts were appreciated by so great a man. + +Mildred, who was almost as simple in worldly matters as her niece, was +also a devout believer in Dad Fabian's capabilities. The dark-lined +picture of Cain fleeing from his avenging conscience, with his weeping +guardian angel by his side, had made a great impression on her. + +Olive and she had long talks over Polly's rapid scrawls. Roy had genius, +and was to be an artist after all. He was to enter a London studio after +Christmas. Dad Fabian knew the widow of an artist living near Hampstead +who would board and lodge him, and look after him as though he were a +son of her own; and Dad Fabian himself was to act as his sponsor, +art-guide, and chaperon. + +'My guardian thinks very highly of Dad,' wrote Polly, in her pretty, +childish handwriting. 'He calls him an unappreciated genius, and says +Roy will be quite safe under his care. Dad is a little disappointed +Roy's forte is landscape painting; he wanted him to go in for high art; +but Roy paints clouds better than faces.' + +'Dear Roy, how we shall miss him!' sighed Olive, as she laid the letter +down. + +'Polly more than any one,' observed Mildred, thinking how strange it +would be to see one bright face without the other close to it. + +The new curate was rather a tame affair after this. + +'His name is Hugh Marsden, and he is to live at Miss Farrer's, the +milliner,' announced Olive one day, when she had received a letter from +Richard. 'Miss Farrer has two very nice rooms looking over the +market-place. Her last lodger was a young engineer, and it made a great +difference to her income when he left her. Richard says he is a "Queen's +man, and a very nice fellow;" he is only in deacon's orders.' + +'Let us see what Chriss has to say about him in her letter,' returned +Mildred; but she contemplated a little ruefully the crabbed, irregular +writing, every word looking like a miniature edition of Contradiction +Chriss herself. + +'Mr. Marsden has arrived,' scrawled Chriss, 'and has just had tea here. +I don't think we shall like him at all. Roy says he is a jolly fellow, +and is fond of cricket and fishing, and those sort of things, but he +looks too much like a big boy for my taste; I don't like such large +young men; and he has big hands and feet and a great voice, and his +laugh is as big as the rest of him. I think him dreadfully ugly, but +Polly says "No, he has nice honest eyes." + +'He tried to talk to Polly and me; only wasn't it rude, Aunt Milly? He +called me my dear, and asked me if I liked dolls. I felt I could have +withered him on the spot, only he was so stupid and obtuse that he took +no notice, and went on about his little sister Sophy, who had twelve +dolls, whom she dressed to represent the twelve months in the year, and +how she nearly broke her heart when he sat down on them by accident and +smashed July.' + +Roy gave a comical description of the whole thing and Chriss's wrathful +discomfiture. + +'We have just had great fun,' he wrote; 'the Rev. Hugh has just been +here to tea; he is a capital fellow--up to larks, and with plenty of go +in him, and with a fine deep voice for intoning; he is wild about +training the choir already. He talked a great deal about his mother and +sisters; he is an only son. I bet you anything, you women will be bored +to death with Dora, Florence, and Sophy. If they are like him they are +not handsome. One thing I must tell you, he riled Contradiction awfully +by asking her if she liked dolls; she was Pugilist Pug then and no +mistake. You should have seen the air with which she drew herself up. "I +suppose you take me for a little girl," quoth she. Marsden's face was a +study. "I am afraid you will take her for a spoilt one," says Dad, +patting her shoulder, which only made matters worse. "I think your +sister must be very silly with her twelve seasons," bursts out Chriss. +"I would sooner do algebra than play with dolls; but if you will excuse +me, I have my Caesar to construe;" and she walked out of the room with +her chin in the air, and every curl on her head bristling with wrath. +Marsden sat open-mouthed with astonishment, and Dad was forced to +apologise; and there was Polly all the time "behaving like a little +lady."' + +'As though Polly could do wrong,' observed Mildred with a smile, as she +finished Roy's ridiculous effusion. + +It was the beginning of October when they returned home. Olive had by +this time recovered her strength, and was able to enjoy her rambles on +the sand; and though Mr. Lambert found fault with the thin cheeks and +lack of robustness, his anxiety was set at rest by Mildred, who declared +Olive had done credit to her nursing, and a little want of flesh was all +the fault that could be found with her charge. + +The welcome home was sweet to the restored invalid. Richard's kiss was +scarcely less fond than her father's. Roy pinched her cheek to be sure +that this was a real, and not a make-believe, Olive; while Polly +followed her to her room to assure herself that her hair had really +grown half an inch, as Aunt Milly declared it had. + +Nor was Mildred's welcome less hearty. + +'How good it is to see you in your old place, Aunt Milly,' said Richard, +with an affectionate glance, as he placed himself beside her at the +tea-table. + +'We have missed you, Milly!' exclaimed her brother a moment afterwards. +'Heriot was saying only last night that the vicarage did not seem itself +without you.' + +'Nothing is right without Aunt Milly!' cried Polly, with a squeeze; and +Roy chimed in, indignantly, 'Of course not; as though we could do +without Aunt Milly!' + +The new curate was discussed the first evening. Mr. Lambert and Richard +were loud in their praises; and though Chriss muttered to herself in a +surly undertone, nobody minded her. + +His introduction to Olive happened after a somewhat amusing fashion. + +He was crossing the hall the next day, on his way to the vicar's study, +when Roy bade him go into the drawing-room and make acquaintance with +Aunt Milly. + +It happened that Mildred had just left the room, and Olive was sitting +alone, working. + +She looked up a little surprised at the tall, broad-shouldered young man +who was making his way across the room. + +'Royal told me I should find you here, Miss Lambert. I hope your niece +has recovered the fatigue of her journey.' + +'I am not Aunt Milly; I am Olive,' returned the girl, gravely, but not +refusing the proffered hand. 'You are my father's new curate, Mr. +Marsden, I suppose?' + +'Yes; I beg your pardon, I have made a foolish mistake I see,' returned +the young man, confusedly, stammering and flushing over his words. +'Royal sent me in to find his aunt, and--and--I did not notice.' + +'What does it matter?' returned Olive, simply. The curate's evident +nervousness made her anxious to set him at his ease. 'You could not +know; and Aunt Milly looks so young, and my illness has changed me. It +was such a natural mistake, you see,' with the soft seriousness with +which Olive always spoke now. + +'Thank you; yes, of course,' stammered Hugh, twirling his felt hat +through his fingers, and looking down at her with a sort of puzzled +wonder. The grave young face under the quaint head-dress, the soft dark +hair just parted on the forehead, the large earnest eyes, candid, and +yet unsmiling, filled him with a sort of awe and reverence. + +'You have been very ill,' he said at last, with a pitying chord in his +voice. 'People do not look like that who have not suffered. You remind +me,' he continued, sitting down beside her, and speaking a little +huskily, 'of a sister whom I lost not so very long ago.' + +Olive looked up with a sudden gleam in her eyes. + +'Did she die?' + +'Yes. You are more fortunate, Miss Lambert; you were permitted to get +well.' + +'You are a clergyman, and you say that,' she returned, a little +breathlessly. 'If it were not wrong I should envy your sister, who +finished her work so young.' + +'Hush, Miss Lambert, that is wrong,' replied Hugh. His brief nervousness +had vanished; he was quite grave now; his round, boyish face, ruddy and +brown with exercise, paled a little with his earnestness and the memory +of a past pain. + +'Caroline wanted to live, and you want to die,' he said, in a voice full +of rebuke. 'She cried because she was young, and did not wish to leave +us, and because she feared death; and you are sorry to live.' + +'I have always found life so hard,' sighed Olive. It did not seem +strange to her that she should be talking thus to a stranger; was he not +a clergyman--her father's curate--in spite of his boyish face? 'St. Paul +thought it was better, you know; but indeed I am trying to be glad, Mr. +Marsden, that I have all this time before me.' + +'Trying to be glad for the gift of life!' Here was a mystery to be +solved by the Rev. Hugh Marsden, he who rejoiced in life with the whole +strength of his vigorous young heart; who loved all living things, man, +woman, and child--nay, the very dumb animals themselves; who drank in +light and vigour and cheerfulness as his daily food; who was glad for +mere gladness' sake; to whom sin was the only evil in the world, and +suffering a privilege, and not a punishment; who measured all things, +animate and inanimate, with a merciful breadth of views, full of that +'charity that thinketh no evil,'--he to be told by this grave, pale girl +that she envied his sister who died. + +'What is the matter--have I shocked you?' asked Olive, her sensitiveness +taking alarm at his silence. + +'Yes--no; I am sorry for you, that is all, Miss Lambert. I am young, but +I am a clergyman, as you say. I love life, as I love all the good gifts +of my God; and I think,' hesitating and dropping his voice, 'your one +prayer should be, that He may teach you to be glad.' + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THREE YEARS AFTERWARDS--A RETROSPECT + + 'And still I changed--I was a boy no more; + My heart was large enough to hold my kind, + And all the world. As hath been apt before + With youth, I sought, but I could never find + Work hard enough to quiet my self-strife, + And the strength of action craving life. + She, too, was changed.'--Jean Ingelow. + + +In the histories of most families there are long even pauses during +which life flows smoothly in uneventful channels, when there are few +breaks and fewer incidents to chronicle; times when the silent +ingathering of individual interests deepens and widens imperceptibly +into an under-current of strength ready for the crises of emergency. +Times of peace alternating with the petty warfare which is the +prerogative of kinsmanship, a blessed routine of daily duty misnamed by +the young monotony, but which in reality is to train them for the rank +and file in the great human army hereafter; quiescent times during which +the memory of past troubles is mercifully obliterated by present ease, +and 'the cloud no bigger than a man's hand' does not as yet obscure the +soft breadth of heaven's blue. + +Such a time had come to the Lamberts. The three years that followed +Olive's illness and tardy convalescence were quite uneventful ones, +marked with few incidents worthy of note; outwardly things had seemed +unchanged, but how deep and strong was the under-current of each young +individual life; what rapid developments, what unfolding of fresh life +and interests in the budding manhood and womanhood within the old +vicarage walls. + +Such thoughts as these came tranquilly to Mildred as she sat alone one +July day in the same room where, three years before, the Angels of Life +and Death had wrestled over one frail girl, in the room where she had so +patiently and tenderly nursed Olive's sick body and mind back to health. + +For once in her life busy Mildred was idle, the work lay unfolded beside +her, while her eyes wandered dreamily over the fair expanse of sunny +green dotted with browsing sheep and tuneful with the plaintive bleating +of lambs; there was a crisp crunching of cattle hoofs on the beck gravel +below, a light wind touched the elms and thorns and woke a soft +soughing, the tall poplar swayed drowsily with a flicker of shaking +leaves; beyond the sunshine lay the blue dusk of the circling hills, +prospect fit to inspire a daydream, even in a nature more prosaic than +Mildred Lambert's. + +It was Mildred's birthday; she was thirty to-day, and she was smiling to +herself at the thoughts that she felt younger and brighter and happier +than she had three years before. + +They had been such peaceful years, full of congenial work and blessed +with sympathetic fellowship; she had sown so poorly, she thought, and +had reaped such rich harvests of requited love; she had come amongst +them a stranger three years ago, and now she could number friends by the +score; even her poorer neighbours loved and trusted her, their northern +reserve quite broken down by her tender womanly graces. + +'There are two people in Kirkby Stephen that would be sorely missed,' a +respectable tradesman once said to Miss Trelawny, 'and they are Miss +Lambert and Dr. Heriot, and I don't know which is the greater favourite. +I should have lost my wife last year but for her; she sat up with her +three nights running when that fever got hold of her.' + +And an old woman in the workhouse said once to Dr. Heriot when he wished +her to see the vicar: + +'Nae thanks to ye, doctor; ye needn't bother yersel' about minister, +Miss Lambert has sense enough. I wudn't git mair gude words nir she +gi'es; she's terrible gude, bless her;' and many would have echoed old +Sally Bates's opinion. + +Mildred's downright simplicity and unselfishness were winning all +hearts. + +'Aunt Milly has such a trustworthy face, people are obliged to tell +their troubles when they look at her,' Polly said once, and perhaps the +girl held the right clue to the secret of Mildred Lambert's influence. + +Real sympathy, that spontaneity of vigorous warm feeling emanating from +the sight of others' pain, is rarer than we imagine. Without exactly +giving expression to conventional forms of condolence, Mildred conveyed +the most delicate sympathy in every look and word; by a rapid transit of +emotion, she seemed to place herself in the position of the bereaved; to +feel as they felt--the sacred silence of sorrow; her few words never +grazed the outer edge of that bitter irritability that trenches on great +pain, and so her mere presence seemed to soothe them. + +Her perfect unconsciousness added to this feeling; there were times when +Mildred's sympathy was so intense that she absolutely lost herself. +'What have I done that you should thank me?' was a common speech with +her; in her own opinion she had done absolutely nothing; she had so +merged her own individual feelings into the case before her that +gratitude was a literal shock to her, and this same simplicity kept her +quiet and humble under the growing idolatry of her nephews and nieces. + +'My dear Miss Lambert, how they all love you,' Mrs. Delaware said to her +once; 'even that fine grown young man Richard seems to lay himself out +to please you.' + +'How can they help loving me,' returned Mildred, with that shy soft +smile of hers, 'when I love them so dearly, and they see it? Of course I +do not deserve it; but it is the old story, love begets love;' and the +glad, steady light in her eyes spoke of her deep content. + +Yes, Mildred was happy; the quiet woman joyed in her life with an +intense appreciation that Olive would have envied. Mildred never guessed +that there were secret springs to this fountain of gladness, that the +strongly-cemented friendship between herself and Dr. Heriot added a +fresh charm to her life, investing it with the atmosphere of unknown +vigour and strength. Mildred had always been proud of her brother's +intellect and goodness, but she had never learnt to rely so entirely on +his sagacity as she now did on Dr. Heriot. + +If any one had questioned her feelings with respect to the vicarage +Mentor, Mildred would have assured them with her sweet honesty that her +brother's friend was hers also, that she did full justice to his merits, +and was ready to own that his absence would leave a terrible gap in +their circle; but even Mildred did not know how much she had learnt to +depend on the sympathy that never failed her and the quick appreciation +that was almost intuitive. + +Mildred knew that Dr. Heriot liked her; he had found her trustworthy in +time of need, and he showed his gratitude by making fresh demands on her +time and patience most unblushingly: in his intercourse with her there +had always been a curious mixture of reverence and tenderness which was +far removed from any warmer feeling, though in one sense it might be +called brotherly. + +Perhaps Mildred was to blame for this; in spite of her appreciation of +Dr. Heriot, she had never broken through her habit of shy reserve, which +was a second nature with her--the old girlish Mildred was hidden out of +sight. Dr. Heriot only saw in his friend's sister a gentle, soft-eyed +woman, seeming older than she really was, and with tender, old-fashioned +ways, always habited in sober grays and with a certain staidness of mien +and quiet precision of speech, which, with all its restfulness, took +away the impression of youth. + +Yes, good and womanly as he thought her, Dr. Heriot was ignorant of the +real Mildred. Aunt Milly alone with her boys, blushing and dimpling +under their saucy praise, would have shattered all his ideas of +primness; just as those fits of wise eloquence, while Olive and Polly +lingered near her in the dark, the sweet impulse of words that stirred +them to their hearts' core, would have roused his latent enthusiasm to +the utmost. + +Dr. Heriot's true ideal of womanly beauty and goodness passed his door +daily, disguised in Quaker grays and the large shady black hat that was +for use and not for ornament, but he did not know it; when he looked out +it was to note how fresh and piquant Polly looked in her white dress and +blue ribbons as she tripped beside Mildred, or how the Spanish hat with +its long black feather suited Olive's sombre complexion. + +Olive had greatly improved since her illness; she was still irredeemably +plain in her own eyes, but few were ready to endorse this opinion; her +figure had rounded and filled out into almost majestic proportions, her +shoulders had lost their ungainly stoop, and her slow movements were not +without grace. + +Her complexion would always be sallow, but the dark abundant hair was +now arranged to some advantage, and the large earnest eyes were her +redeeming features, while a settled but soft seriousness had replaced +the old absorbing melancholy. + +Olive would never look on the brighter side of life as a happier and +more sanguine temperament would; she still took life seriously, almost +solemnly, though she had ceased to repine that length of days had been +given her; with her, conscientiousness was still a fault, and she would +ever be given to weigh herself carefully and be found wanting; but there +were times when even Olive owned herself happy, when the grave face +would relax into smiles and the dark eyes grow bright and soft. + +And there were reasons for this; Olive no longer suffered the pangs of +passionate and unrequited love, and her heart was at rest concerning +Richard. + +For two years the sad groping after truth, the mute search for vocation, +the conflict between duty and inclination, had continued, and still the +grave, stern face, kindly but impressive, has given no clue to his +future plans. 'I will tell you when I know myself, father,' was his +parting speech more than once. 'I trust you, Cardie, and I am content to +wait,' was ever his father's answer. + +But deliverance came at last, when the fetters fell off the noble young +soul, when every word in the letter that reached Mr. Lambert spoke of +the new-born gladness that filled his son's heart; there was no +reticence. + +'You trusted me and you were content to wait then; how often I have +repeated these words to myself, dear father; you have waited, and now +your patience shall be rewarded. + +'Father, at last I know myself and my own mind; the last wave of doubt +and fear has rolled off me; I can see it all now, I feel sure. I write +it tremblingly. I feel sure that it is all true. + +'Oh, how good God has been to me! I feel almost like the prodigal; only +no husks could have satisfied me for a moment; it was only the truth I +wanted--truth literal and divine; and, father, you have no reason to +think sadly of me any longer, for "before eventide my light has come."' + +'I am writing now to tell you that it is my firm and unalterable +intention to carry out your and my mother's wishes with respect to my +profession; will you ask my friends not to seek to dissuade me, +especially my friends at Kirkleatham? You know how sorely inclination +has already tempted me; believe me, I have counted the cost and weighed +the whole matter calmly and dispassionately. I have much to +relinquish--many favourite pursuits, many secret ambitions--but shall I +give what costs me nothing? and after all I am only thankful that I am +not considered too unworthy for the work.' + +It was this letter, so humble and so manly, that filled Olive's brown +eyes with light and lifted the weight from her heart. Cardie had not +disappointed her; he had been true to himself and his own convictions. +Mildred alone had her misgivings; when she next saw Richard, she thought +that he looked worn and pale, and even fancied his cheerfulness was a +little forced; and his admission that he had slept badly for two or +three nights so filled her with alarm that she determined to speak to +him at all costs. + +His composed and devout demeanour at service next morning, however, a +little comforted her, and she was hesitating whether the change in him +might be her own fancy, when Richard himself broke the ice by an abrupt +question as they were walking towards Musgrave that same afternoon. + +'What is all this about Ethel Trelawny, Aunt Milly?' + +And Mildred absolutely started at his tone, it was suppressed and yet so +eager. + +'She will not return to Kirkleatham for some weeks, Richard; she and her +father are visiting in Scotland.' + +Richard turned very pale. + +'It is true, then, Aunt Milly?' + +'What is true?' + +'That she is engaged to that man?' + +'To Sir Robert Ferrers? What! have you heard of that? No, indeed, +Richard, she has refused him most decidedly; why he is old enough to be +her father!' + +'That is no objection with some women. Are you sure? They are not in +Renfrewshire, then?' + +'They have never been there; they are staying with friends near +Ballater. Why, Richard, what is this?' as Richard stopped as though he +were giddy and covered his face with his hands. + +'I never meant you or any one to know,' he gasped at length, while +Mildred watched his varying colour with alarm; 'but I have not been able +to sleep since I heard, and the suddenness of the relief--oh! are you +quite sure, Aunt Milly?' with a painful eagerness in his tone very +strange to hear in grave, self-contained Richard. + +'Dear Cardie, let there be full confidence between us; you see you have +unwittingly betrayed yourself.' + +'Yes, I have betrayed myself,' he muttered with increasing agitation; +'what a fool you must think me, Aunt Milly, and all because I could not +put a question quietly; but I was not prepared for your answer; what a +consummate----' + +'Hush, don't call yourself names. I knew your secret long ago, Cardie. I +knew what friends you and Ethel Trelawny were.' + +A boyish flush suffused his face. + +'Ethel is very fond of her old playmate.' + +He winced as though with sudden pain. + +'Ah, that is just it, Aunt Milly; she is fond of me and nothing else.' + +'I like her name for you, Coeur-de-Lion, it sounds so musical from her +lips; you are her friend, Richard; she trusts you implicitly.' + +'I believe--I hope she does;' but drawing his hand again before his +eyes, 'I am too young, Aunt Milly. I was only one-and-twenty last +month.' + +'True, and Sir Robert was nearly fifty; she refused a fine estate +there.' + +'Was her father angry with her?' + +'Not so terribly incensed as he was about Mr. Cathcart the year before. +Mr. Cathcart had double his fortune and was a young, good-looking man. I +was almost afraid that in her misery she should be driven to marry him.' + +'He has no right to persecute her so; why should he be so anxious to get +rid of his only child?' + +'That is what we all say. Poor Ethel, hers is no light cross. I am +thankful she is beginning to take it patiently; the loss of a father's +love must be dreadful, and hers is a proud spirit.' + +'But not now; you said yourself, Aunt Milly, how nobly she behaved in +that last affair.' + +'True,' continued Mildred in a sorrowful tone; 'all the more that she +was inclined to succumb to a momentary fascination; but I am certain +that with all his intellect Mr. Cathcart would have been a most +undesirable husband for her; Sir Robert Ferrers is far preferable.' + +'Aunt Milly!' + +'Yes, Richard, and I told her so; but her only answer was that she would +not marry where she could not love. I am afraid this will widen the +breach between her and her father; her last letter was very sad.' + +'It is tyranny, downright persecution; how dares he. Oh, Aunt Milly!' in +a tone of deep despondency, 'if I were only ten years older.' + +'I am afraid you are very young, Cardie. I wish you had not set your +heart on this.' + +'Yes, we are too much of an age; but she need not fear, I am older in +everything than she; there is nothing boyish about me, is there, Aunt +Milly?' + +'Not in your love for Ethel, I am afraid; but, Cardie, what would her +father say if he knew it?' + +'He will know it some day. Look here, Aunt Milly, I am one-and-twenty +now, and I have loved Ethel, Miss Trelawny I mean, since I was a boy of +twelve; people may laugh, but I felt for my old playmate something of +what I feel now. She was always different from any one else in my eyes. +I remember telling my mother when I was only ten that Ethel should be my +wife.' + +'But, Richard----' + +'I know what you are going to say--that it is all hopeless moonshine, +that a curate with four or five hundred a year has no right to presume +to Mr. Trelawny's heiress; that is what he and the world will tell me; +but how am I to help loving her?' + +'What am I to say to you, Cardie? Long before you are your father's +curate Ethel may have met the man she can love.' + +'Then I shall bear my trouble, I hope, manfully. Don't you think this is +my one dread, that and being so young in her eyes? How little she knew +how she tempted me when she told me I ought to distinguish myself at the +Bar; I felt as though it were giving her up when I decided on taking +orders.' + +'She would call you a veritable Coeur-de-Lion if she knew. Oh! my poor +boy, how hardly this has gone with you,' as Richard's face whitened +again with emotion. + +'It has been terribly hard,' he returned, almost inaudibly; 'it was not +so much at last reluctance and fear of the work as the horrible dread of +losing her by my own act. I thought--it was foolish and young of me, I +daresay--but I thought that as people spoke of my capabilities I might +in time win a position that should be worthy even of her. Oh, Aunt +Milly! what a fool you must think me.' + +Richard's clear glance was overcast with pain as he spoke, but Mildred's +affectionate smile spoke volumes. + +'I think I never loved you so well, Cardie, now I know how nobly you +have acted. Have you told your father of this?' + +'No, but I am sure he knows; you have no idea how much he notices; he +said something to me once that showed me he was aware of my feelings; we +have no secrets now; that is your doing, Aunt Milly.' + +Mildred shook her head. + +'Ah, but it was; you were the first to break down my reserve; what a +churl I must have been in those days. You all think too well of me as it +is. Livy especially puts me in a bad humour with myself.' + +'I wanted to speak to you of Olive, Richard; are you not thankful that +she has found her vocation at last?' + +'Indeed I am. I wrote my congratulations by return of post. Fancy Kirke +and Steadman undertaking to publish those poems, and Livy only +eighteen!' + +'Dr. Heriot always told us she had genius. Some of them are really very +beautiful. Dear Olive, you should have seen her face when the letter +came.' + +'I know; I would have given anything to be there.' + +'She looked quite radiant, and yet so touchingly humble when she held it +out to her father, and then without waiting for us to read it she left +the room. I know she was thanking God for it on her knees, Richard, +while we were all gossiping to Dr. Heriot on Livy's good fortune.' + +Richard looked touched. + +'What an example she is to us all; if she would only believe half the +good of herself that we do, Aunt Milly.' + +'Then she would lose all her childlike humility. I think she gets less +morbidly self-conscious year by year; there is no denying she is +brighter.' + +'She could not help it, brought into contact with such a nature as +Marsden's; that fellow gives one the impression of perfect mental and +bodily health. Dr. John told me it was quite refreshing to look at him.' + +'Chriss amuses me, she will have it he is so noisy.' + +'He has a loud laugh certainly, and his voice is not exactly +low-pitched, but he is a splendid fellow. Roy keeps up a steady +correspondence with him. By the bye, I have not shown you my last letter +from Rome;' and Richard, who had regained his tranquillity and ordinary +manner, pulled the thin, foreign-looking envelope from his breast-pocket +and entertained Mildred for the remainder of the way with an amusing +account of some of Roy's Roman adventures. + +That night, as Richard sat alone with his father in the study, Mr. +Lambert placed his hand affectionately on his son's broad shoulder with +a look that was rather more scrutinising than usual. + +'So the last cloud has cleared away; that is right, Cardie.' + +'I do not understand you, father;' but the young man faltered a little +under his father's quiet glance. + +'Nay, it is for you to explain; only last night you seemed as though you +had some trouble on your mind, you were anxious and absorbed, and this +evening the oppression seems removed.' + +For a moment Richard hesitated, and the old boyish flush came to his +face, and then his determination was taken. + +'Father,' he said, speaking in a quick, resolute tone, and tossing back +his wave of dark hair as he spoke, always a trick of his when agitated, +'there shall be no half-confidence between us; yesterday I was heavy at +heart because I thought Ethel Trelawny would marry Sir Robert Ferrers; +to-day I hear she has refused him and the weight is gone.' + +Mr. Lambert gave a low, dismayed exclamation, and his hand dropped from +his son's shoulder. + +'Ah, is it so, my poor boy?' he said at last, and there was no mistaking +the sorrowful tone. + +'Yes, it is so, father,' he returned firmly; 'you may call me a fool for +my pains--I do not know, perhaps I am one--but it is too late to help it +now; the mischief is of too long standing.' + +In spite of his very real sympathy a smile crossed his father's lips, +and yet as he looked at Richard it somehow died away. Youthful as he +was, barely one-and-twenty, there was a set determination, a staid +manliness, in his whole mien that added five years at least to his age. + +Even to a disinterested eye he seemed a son of whom any father might be +proud; not tall--the massive, thick-set figure seemed made for strength +more than grace--but the face was pre-eminently handsome, the dark eyes +beamed with intelligence, the forehead was broad and benevolent, the +lips still closed with the old inflexibility, but the hard lines had +relaxed: firm and dominant, yet ruled by the single eye of integral +principle; there was no fear that Richard Lambert would ever overstep +the boundaries of a clearly-defined right. + +'That is my brave boy,' murmured his father at last, watching him with a +sort of wistful pain; 'but, Cardie, I cannot but feel grieved that you +have set your heart on this girl.' + +'What! do you doubt the wisdom or the fitness of my choice?' demanded +the young man hotly. + +'Both, Cardie; the girl is everything that one could wish; dear to me +almost as a daughter of my own, but Trelawny--ah, my poor boy, do you +dream that you can satisfy her father's ambition?' + +'I shall not try to do so,' returned Richard, speaking with set lips; 'I +know him too well; he would sell her to the highest bidder, sell his own +flesh and blood; but she is too noble for his corrupting influence.' + +'You speak bitterly, Cardie.' + +'I speak as I feel. Look here, father, foolishly or wisely, it does not +matter now, I have set my heart on this thing; I have grown up with this +one idea before me, the hope of one day, however distant, calling Ethel +Trelawny my wife. I do not think I am one to change.' + +Mr. Lambert shook his head. + +'I fear not, Cardie.' + +'I am as sure of the faithfulness of my own heart as I am that I am +standing here; young as I am, I know I love her as you loved my mother.' + +His father covered his face with his hand. + +'No, no; do not say that, Cardie.' + +'I must say what is true; you would not have me lie to you.' + +'Surely not; but, my boy, this is a hard hearing.' + +'You are thinking of Mr. Trelawny,' returned Richard, quietly; 'that is +not my worst fear; my chief obstacle is Ethel herself.' + +'What! you doubt her returning your affection?' asked his father. + +'Yes, I doubt it,' was the truthful answer; but it was made with +quivering lips. 'I dread lest I should not satisfy her exacting +fastidiousness; but all the same I mean to try; you will bid me +Godspeed, father?' + +'Yes, yes; but, Cardie, be prudent, remember how little you have to +offer--a few hundreds a year where she has thousands, not even a +curacy!' + +'You think I ought to wait a little; another year--two perhaps?' + +'That is my opinion, certainly.' + +Richard crossed the room once or twice with a rapid, disordered stride, +and then he returned to his father's side. + +'You are right; I must not do anything rashly or impulsively just +because I fear to lose her. I ought not to speak even to her until I +have taken orders; and yet if I could only make her understand how it is +without speaking.' + +'You must be very prudent, Cardie; remember my son has no right to +aspire to an heiress.' + +Richard's face clouded. + +'That dreadful money! There is one comfort--I believe she hates it as +much as I do; but it is not entailed property--he can leave it all away +from her.' + +'Yes, if she displeases him. Mildred tells me he holds this threat +perpetually over her; poor girl, he makes her a bad father.' + +'His conduct is unjustifiable in every way,' returned Richard in a +stifled voice; 'any one less noble would be tempted to make their escape +at all hazards, but she endures her wretchedness so patiently. Sometimes +I fancy, father, that when she can bear her loneliness no longer my time +for speaking will come, and then----' + +But Richard had no time to finish his sentence, for just then Dr. +Heriot's knock sounded at the door, and with a mute hand-shake of +perfect confidence the father and son separated for the night. + +This conversation had taken place nearly a year before, but from that +time it had never been resumed; sacredly did Mr. Lambert guard his boy's +confidence, and save that there was a deferential tenderness in his +manner to Ethel Trelawny and a wistful pain in his eyes when he saw +Richard beside her, no one would have guessed how heavily his son's +future weighed on his heart. Richard's manner remained unchanged; it was +a little graver, perhaps, and indicative of greater thoughtfulness, but +there was nothing lover-like in his demeanour, nothing that would check +or repel the warm sisterly affection that Ethel evidently cherished for +him; only at times Ethel wondered why it was that Richard's opinions +seemed to influence her more than they used, and to marvel at her vivid +remembrance of past looks and speeches. + +Somehow every time she saw him he seemed less like her old playmate, +Coeur-de-Lion, and transformed into an older and graver Richard; +perhaps it might be that the halo of the future priesthood already +surrounded him; but for whatever reason it might be, Ethel was certainly +less dictatorial and argumentative in her demeanour towards him, and +that a very real friendship seemed growing up between them. + +Richard was more than two-and-twenty now, and Roy just a year younger; +in another eight months he would be ordained deacon; as yet he had made +no sign, but as Mildred sat pondering over the retrospect of the three +last years in the golden and dreamy afternoon, she was driven to confess +that her boys were now men, doing men's work in the world, and to +wonder, with womanly shrinkings of heart, what the future might hold out +to them of good and evil. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +OLIVE'S WORK + + 'Read from some humbler poet, + Whose songs gushed from his heart, + As showers from the clouds of summer, + Or tears from the eyelids start; + + 'Who through long days of labour + And nights devoid of ease, + Still heard in his soul the music + Of wonderful melodies. + + 'Such songs have power to quiet + The restless pulse of care, + And come like the benediction + That follows after prayer.'--Longfellow. + + +'Aunt Milly, the book has come!' + +Chriss's impetuous young voice roused Mildred from her reverie. Chriss's +eager footsteps, her shrill tone, broke in upon the stillness, driving +the gossamer threads of fancy hither and thither by the very impetus of +youthful noise and movement. Mildred's folded hands dropped apart--she +turned soft bewildered looks on the girl. + +'What has come? I do not understand you,' she said, with a little laugh +at her own bewilderment. + +'Aunt Milly, what are you thinking about? are you asleep or dreaming?' +demanded Chriss, indignantly; 'why the book--Olive's book, to be sure.' + +'Has it come? My dear Chriss, how you startled me; if you had knocked, +it would have been different, but bursting in upon me like that.' + +'One can't knock for ever,' grumbled Chriss, in an aggrieved voice. 'Of +course I thought you were asleep this hot afternoon; but to see you +sitting smiling to yourself, Aunt Milly, in that aggravating way and not +understanding when one speaks.' + +'Hush! I understand you now,' returned Mildred, colouring; 'one gets +thinking sometimes, and----' + +'Your thoughts must have been miles off, then,' retorted Chriss, with an +inquisitive glance that seemed to embarrass Mildred, 'if it took you all +that time to travel to the surface. Polly told me to fetch you, because +tea is ready, and then the books came--such a big parcel!--and Olive's +hand shook so that she could not undo the knots, and so she cut the +string, and Cardie scolded her.' + +'It was not much of a scolding, I expect.' + +'Quite enough to bring Mr. Marsden to the rescue. "How can you presume +to reprimand a poetess," he said, quite seriously; you should have heard +Dr. John laugh. Look here, he has sent you these roses, Aunt Milly,' +drawing from under her little silk apron a delicious bouquet of roses +and maidenhair fern. + +A pretty pink colour came into Mildred's cheeks. + +'What beautiful roses! He must have remembered it was my birthday; how +kind of him, Chriss. I must come down and thank him.' + +'You must wear some in honour of the occasion--do, Aunt Milly; this deep +crimson one will look so pretty on your gray silk dress; and you must +put on the silver locket, with the blue velvet, that we all gave you.' + +'Nonsense,' returned Mildred, blushing; but Chriss was inexorable. + +Dr. Heriot looked up for the minute fairly startled when Mildred came in +with her pink cheeks and her roses. Chriss's artful fingers, bent on +mischief, had introduced a bud among the thick braids; the pretty brown +hair looked unusually soft and glossy; the rarely seen dimple was in +full play. + +'You have done honour to my roses, I see,' he said, as Mildred thanked +him, somewhat shyly, and joined the group round Olive. + +The drawing-room table was heaped over with the new-smelling, little +green volumes. As Mildred approached, Olive held out one limp soft copy +with a hand that shook perceptibly. + +'It has come at last, and on your birthday too; I am so glad,' she +whispered as Mildred kissed her. + +A soft light was in the girl's eyes, two spots of colour burnt in her +usually pale cheeks, her hand closed and unclosed nervously on the arm +of her chair. + +'There, even Marsden says they are beautiful, and he does not care much +for poetry,' broke in Richard, triumphantly. 'Livy, it has come to this, +that I am proud of my sister.' + +'Hush, please don't talk so, Cardie,' remonstrated Olive with a look of +distress. + +The spots of colour were almost hectic now, the smooth forehead furrowed +with anxiety; she looked ready to cry. This hour was full of sweet +torment to her. She shrank from this home criticism, so precious yet so +perilous: for the first time she felt afraid of the utterance of her own +written voice: if she only could leave them all and make her escape. She +looked up almost pleadingly at Hugh Marsden, whose broad shoulders were +blocking up the window, but he misunderstood her. + +'Yes, I think them beautiful; but your brother is right, and I am no +judge of poetry: metrical thoughts always appear so strange, so puzzling +to me--it seems to me like a prisoned bird, beating itself against the +bars of measurement and metres, as though it tried to be free.' + +'Why, you are talking poetry yourself,' returned Richard; 'that speech +was worthy of Livy herself.' + +Hugh burst into one of his great laughs; in her present mood it jarred +on Olive. Aunt Milly had left her, and was talking to her father. Dr. +John was at the other end of the room, busy over his copy. Why would +they talk about her so? it was cruel of Cardie, knowing her as he did. +She made a little gesture, almost of supplication, looking up into the +curate's broad, radiant face, but the young man again misunderstood her. + +'You must forgive me, I am sadly prosaic,' he returned, speaking now in +a lower key; 'these things are beyond me. I do not pretend to understand +them. That people should take the trouble to measure out their words and +thoughts--so many feet, so many lines, a missed adjective, or a halting +rhyme--it is that that puzzles me.' + +'Fie, man, what heresy; I am ashamed of you!' broke in Richard, +good-humouredly; 'you have forfeited Livy's good opinion for ever.' + +'I should be sorry to do that,' returned Hugh, seriously, 'but I cannot +help it if I am different from other people. When I was at college I +used to take my sisters to the opera, poor Caroline especially was fond +of it: do you know it gave me the oddest feeling. There was something +almost ludicrous to me in hearing the heroine of the piece trilling out +her woes with endless roulades; in real life people don't sing on their +deathbeds.' + +'Listen to him,' returned Richard, taking him by the shoulders; 'what is +one to do with such a literal, matter-of-fact fellow? You ought to talk +to him, Livy, and bring him to a better frame of mind.' + +But Hugh was not to be silenced; he stood up manfully, with his great +square shoulders blocking up the light, beaming down on Olive's +shrinking gravity like a gentle-hearted giant; he was one to make +himself heard, this big, clumsy young man. In spite of his boyish face +and loud voice, people were beginning to speak well of Hugh Marsden; his +youthful vigour and energy were waking up northern lethargy and fighting +northern prejudice. Was not the surpliced choir owing mainly to his +persevering efforts? and were not the ranks of the Dissenters already +thinned by that loud-voiced but persuasive eloquence of his? + +Olive absolutely cowered under it to-night. Hugh had no idea how his +noisy vehemence was jarring on that desire for quiet, and a nice talk +with Aunt Mildred, for which she was secretly longing; and yet she and +Hugh were good friends. + +'One can't help one's nature,' persisted Hugh, fumbling over the pages +of one of the little green books with his big hands as he spoke. 'In the +days of the primitive Church they had the gift of unknown tongues. I am +sure much of our modern poetry needs interpretation.' + +'Worse and worse. He will vote your "Songs of the Hearth" a mass of +unintelligible rubbish directly.' + +'You are too bad,' returned the young man with an honest blush; 'you +will incense your sister against me. What I really mean is,' sitting +down beside Olive and speaking so that Richard should not hear him, +'that poetry always seems to me more ornament than use. You cannot +really have felt and experienced all you have described in that +poem--"Coming Back," for example.' + +'Hush, don't show it me,' returned Olive, hurriedly. 'I don't mind your +saying this, but you do not know--the feeling comes, and then the words; +these are thoughts too grand and deep for common forms of expression; +they seem to flow of themselves into the measure you criticise. Oh! you +do not understand----' + +'No, but you can teach me to do so,' returned Hugh, quite gravely. He +had laid aside his vehemence at the first sound of Olive's quiet voice; +he had never lost his first impression of her,--he still regarded her +with a sort of puzzled wonder and reverence. A poetess was not much in +his line he told himself,--the only poetry he cared for was the Psalms, +and perhaps Homer and Shakespeare. Yes, they were grand fellows, he +thought; they could never see their like again. True, the 'Voices of the +Hearth' were very beautiful, if he could only understand them. + +'One cannot teach these things,' replied Olive, with her soft, serious +smile. + +As she answered Hugh she felt almost sorry for him, that this beautiful +gift had come to her, and that he could not understand--that he who +revelled in the good things of this life should miss one of its sweetest +comforts. + +She wondered vaguely over the young clergyman's denseness all the +evening. Hugh had a stronger developed passion for music, and was +further endowed with a deep rich baritone voice. As Olive heard him +joining in the family glees, or beating time to Polly's nicely-executed +pieces, she marvelled all the more over this omitted harmony in his +nature. She had at last made her escape from the crowded, +brilliantly-lighted room, and was pacing the dark terrace, pondering +over it still when Mildred found her. + +'Are you tired of us, Olive?' + +'Not tired of you, Aunt Milly. I have scarcely spoken to you to-day, and +it is your birthday, too,' putting her arm affectionately round Mildred, +and half leaning against her. In her white dress Olive looked taller +than ever. Richard was right when he said Livy would make a fine woman; +she looked large and massive beside Mildred's slight figure. 'Dear Aunt +Milly, I have so wanted to talk to you all the evening, but they would +not let me.' + +Mildred smiled fondly at her girl; during the last three years, ever +since her illness, she had looked on Olive as a sacred and special +charge, and as care begets tenderness as surely as love does love, so +had Olive's ailing but noble nature gained a larger share of Mildred's +warm affections than even Polly's brightness or Chriss's saucy piquancy +could win. + +'Have you been very happy to-night, dear?' she asked, softly. 'Have you +been satisfied with Olive's ovation?' + +'Oh, Aunt Milly! it has made me too glad; did you hear what Cardie said? +it made me feel so proud and so ashamed. Do you know there were actually +tears in papa's eyes when he kissed me.' + +'We are all so proud of our girl, you see.' + +'They almost make me cry between them. I wanted to get away and hide +myself, only Mr. Marsden would go on talking to me.' + +'Yes, I heard him; he was very amusing; he is full of queer hobbies.' + +'I cannot help being sorry for him, he must lose so much, you know; +poetry is a sort of sixth sense to me.' + +'Darling, you must use your sweet gift well.' + +'That is what I have been thinking,' laying her burning face against her +aunt's shoulders, as they both stood looking down at a glimmer of +shining water below them. 'Aunt Milly, do you remember what you said to +comfort me when I was so wickedly lamenting that I had not died?' + +Mildred shook her head. + +'I only know I lectured you soundly.' + +'Oh! Aunt Milly, and they were such dear, wise words that you spoke, +too; you told me that perhaps God had some beautiful work for me to do +that my death would leave unfinished. Do you think' (speaking softly and +slowly) 'that I have found my work?' + +'Dear, I cannot doubt it; no one who reads those lovely verses of yours +can dispute the reality of your gift. You have genius, Olive; why should +I seek to hide it?' + +'Thank you, Aunt Milly. Your telling me will not make me proud; you need +not be afraid of that, dear. I am only so very, very grateful that I +have found my voice.' + +'Your voice, Olive!' + +'Ah, I have made you smile; but can you fancy what a dumb person would +feel if his tongue were suddenly loosed from its paralysis of silence, +what a flow and a torrent of words there would be?' + +'Yes, the thought has often struck me when I have read the Gospels.' + +'Aunt Milly, I think I have something of the same feeling. I have always +wanted to find expression for my thoughts--an outlet for them; it is a +new tongue, but not an unknown one, as Mr. Marsden half hinted.' + +'Three years ago this same Olive who talks so sweetly to-night was full +of trouble at the thought of a new lease of life.' + +'It was all my want of faith; it was weak, cowardly. I know it well +after all,' in a low voice; 'to-night was worth living for. I am not +sorry now, Aunt Milly.' + +'What are you two talking about? I am come to pay my tribute to the +heroines of the night, and find them star-gazing,' broke in a familiar +voice. + +A tall figure in shining raiment bore down upon them--a confused vision +of soft white draperies and gleaming jewels under a cashmere cloak. + +'Ethel, is it you?' exclaimed Mildred, in an astonished voice. + +'Yes, it is I, dear Mildred,' replied the crisp tones, while two soft +arms came out from the cloak and enveloped her. 'I suppose I ought to be +on the road to Appleby Castle, but I determined to snatch half an hour +to myself first, to offer my congratulations to you and this dear girl' +(kissing Olive). 'You are only a secondary light to-night, Mildred.' + +'What! have you seen it?' + +'Yes; my copy came last night. I sat up half the night reading it. You +have achieved a success, Olive, that no one else has; you have +absolutely drawn tears from my eyes.' + +'I thought you never cried over books, Ethel,' in a mischievous tone +from Mildred. + +'I am usually most strong-hearted, but the "Voices of the Hearth" would +have melted a flint. Olive, I never thought it would come to this, that +I should be driven to confess that I envied you.' + +'Oh no, Ethel, not that, surely!' + +'Ah, but I do! that this magnificent power should be given you to wield +over all our hearts, that you should sing to us so sweetly, that we +should be constrained to listen, that this girlish head should speak to +us so wisely and so well,' touching Olive's thick coils with fingers +that glittered in the moonlight. + +'You must not praise her, or she will make her escape,' laughed Mildred, +with a glance at Olive's averted face; 'we have overwhelmed her already +with the bitter-sweet of home criticism, and by and by she will have to +run the gauntlet of severer, and it may be adverse, reviews.' + +'Then she will learn to prize our appreciation. Olive, I am humiliated +when I think how utterly I have misunderstood you.' + +'Why?' asked Olive, shyly, raising those fathomless dark eyes of hers to +Ethel's agitated face. + +'I have always looked upon you as a gloomy visionary who held impossible +standards of right and wrong, and who vexed herself and others by +troublesome scruples; but I see now that Mildred was right.' + +'Aunt Mildred always believes the best of every one,' interrupted Olive, +softly. + +She was flattered and yet pleased by Ethel's evident agitation--why +would they all think so much of her? What had she done? The feelings had +always been there--the great aching of unexpressed thoughts; and now a +voice had been given her with which to speak them. It was all so simple +to Olive, so sacred, so beautiful. Why would they spoil it with all this +talk? + +'Well, perhaps I had better not finish my sentence,' went on Ethel, with +a sigh; after all, it was a pity to mar that unconscious +simplicity--Olive would never see herself as others saw her; no fatal +egotism wrapped her round. She turned to Mildred with a little movement +of fondness as she dropped Olive's hand, and they all turned back into +the house. + +'If I have nothing else, I have you,' she whispered, with a thrill of +mingled envy and grief that went to Mildred's heart. + +The music and the conversation stopped as the door opened on the +dazzling apparition in the full light. Ethel looked pale, and there was +a heavy look round her eyes as though of unshed tears; her manner, too, +was subdued. + +People said that Ethel Trelawny had changed greatly during the last few +years; the old extravagance and daring that had won such adverse +criticism had wholly gone. Ethel no longer scandalised and repelled +people; her vivacity was tempered with reserve now. A heavy cloud of +oppression, almost of melancholy, had quenched the dreamy egotism that +had led her to a one-sided view of things; still quaint and original, +she was beginning to learn the elastic measurement of a charity that +should embrace a fairer proportion of her fellow-creatures. + +But the lesson was a hard one to her fastidiousness. It could not be +said even now that Ethel Trelawny had found her work in life, but +notwithstanding she worked hard. Under Mildred's loving tuition she no +longer looked upon her poorer neighbours with aversion or disgust, but +set herself in many ways to aid them and ameliorate their condition. +True the task was uncongenial and the labour hard, and the reward by no +means adequate, but at least she need no longer brand her self with +being a dreamer of dreams, or sigh that no human being had reason to +bless her existence. + +A great yearning took possession of her as she stood in her gleaming +silks, looking round that happy domestic circle. Mr. Lambert had not as +yet stolen back to his beloved study, but sat in the bay-window, +discussing parish affairs with Dr. Heriot. Richard had challenged the +curate to a game of chess, and Chriss had perched herself on the arm of +her brother's chair, and was watching the game. Polly, in her white +dress, was striking plaintive chords with one hand and humming to +herself in a sweet, girlish voice. + +'Check-mate; you played that last move carelessly, Marsden. Your knight +turned traitor!' cried Richard. His handsome profile cut sharply against +the lamplight, he looked cool, on the alert, while Hugh's broad face was +puckered and wrinkled with anxiety. + +'Please do not let me interrupt you!' exclaimed Ethel, hurriedly, 'you +look all so comfortable. I only want to say good-night, every one,' with +a wave of her slim hand as she spoke. + +Richard gave a start, and rose to his feet, as he regarded the queenly +young creature with her pale cheeks and radiant dress. A sort of perfumy +fragrance seemed to pervade him as she brushed lightly past him; +something subtle seemed to steal away his faculties. Had he ever seen +her look so beautiful? + +Ethel stopped and gave him one of her sad, kind smiles. + +'You do not often come to see us now, Richard. I think my father misses +you,' was all she said. + +'I will come--yes--I will come to-morrow,' he stammered. 'I did not +think--you would miss me,' he almost added, but he remembered himself in +time. + +His face grew stern and set as he watched her in the lamplight, gliding +from one to another with a soft word or two. Why was it her appearance +oppressed him to-night? he thought. He had often seen her dressed so +before, and had gloried in her loveliness; to-night it seemed +incongruous, it chilled him--this glittering apparition in the midst of +the family circle. + +She looked more like the probable bride of Sir Robert Ferrers than the +wife of a poor curate, he told himself bitterly, as he watched her slow +lissom movements, the wavy undulating grace that was Ethel's chief +charm, and yet as he thought it he knew he wronged her. For the man she +could love, Ethel would pull off all her glistening gewgaws, put away +from her all the accessories that wealth could give her. Delighting in +luxury, revelling in it, it was in her to renounce it all without a +sigh. + +Richard knew this, and paid her nobleness its just tribute even while he +chafed in his own moodiness. She would do all this, and more than this, +for the man she loved; but could she, would she, ever be brought to do +it for him? + +When alone again with Mildred, Ethel threw her arms round her friend. + +'Oh, Mildred! it seems worse than ever.' + +'My poor dear.' + +'Night after night he sits opposite to me, and we do not speak, except +to exchange commonplaces, and then he carps at every deviation of +opinion.' + +'I know how dreadful it must be.' + +'And then to be brought into the midst of a scene like that,' pointing +to the door they had just closed; 'to see those happy faces and to hear +all that innocent mirth,' as at that moment Polly's girlish laughter was +distinctly audible, with Hugh's pealing 'Ha, ha' following it; 'and then +to remember the room I have just left.' + +'Hush, try to forget it, or the Sigourneys will wonder at your pale +face.' + +'These evenings haunt me,' returned Ethel, with a sort of shudder. 'I +think I am losing my nerve, Mildred; but I feel positively as though I +cannot bear many more of them--the great dimly-lighted room; you know my +weakness for light; but he says it makes his head bad, and those lamps +with the great shades are all he will have; the interminable dinner +which Duncan always seems to prolong, the difficulty of finding a +subject on which we shall not disagree, and the dread of falling into +one of those dreadful pauses which nothing seems to break. Oh, Mildred, +may you never experience it.' + +'Poor Ethel, I can understand it all so well.' + +Ethel dried her eyes. + +'It seems wrong to complain of one's father, but I have not deserved +this loss of confidence; he is trying my dutifulness too much.' + +'It will not fail you. "Let patience have her perfect work," Ethel.' + +'No, you must only comfort me to-night; I am beyond even your wise +maxims, Mildred. I wish I had not come, it makes me feel so sore, and +yet I could not resist the longing to see you on your birthday. See, I +have brought you a gift,' showing her a beautifully-chased cross in her +hand. + +'Dear Ethel, how wrong; I have asked you so often not to overwhelm me +with your presents.' + +'How selfish to deny me my one pleasure. I have thought about this all +day. We have had visitors, a whole bevy from Carlisle, and I could not +get away; and now I must go to that odious party at the Castle.' + +'You must indeed not wait any longer, your friends will be wondering,' +remonstrated Mildred. + +'Oh no, Mrs. Sigourney is always late. You are very unsociable to-night, +Mildred, just when I require so much.' + +'I only wish I knew how to comfort you.' + +'It comforts me to look into your face and hold your hand. Listen, +Mildred--to-night I was so hungry and desolate for want of a kind word +or look, that I grew desperate; it was foolish of me, but I could have +begged for it as a hungry dog will beg for a crumb.' + +'What did you say?' asked Mildred, breathlessly. + +'I went and stood by his chair when I ought to have left the room; that +was a mistake, was it not?' with a low, bitter laugh. 'I think I touched +his sleeve, for he drew it away with a look of surprise. "Papa," I said; +"I cannot bear this any longer. I do not feel as though I were your +child when you never look at me voluntarily."' + +'And what was his answer?' + +'"Ethel, you know I hate scenes, they simply disgust me."' + +'Only that!' + +'No. I was turning away when he called me back in his sternest manner.' + +'"Your reproach is unseemly under the circumstances, but it shall be +answered," he said, and his voice was so hard and cold. "It is my +misfortune that you are my child, for you have never done anything but +disappoint me. Now, do not interrupt me," as I made some faint +exclamation. "I have not withheld my confidence; you know my ambition, +and also that I have lately sustained some very heavy losses; in default +of a son I have looked to you to retrieve our fortunes, but"--in such a +voice of withering scorn--"I have looked in vain."' + +'Bitter words, my poor Ethel; my heart aches for you. What could such a +speech mean? Can it be true that he is really embarrassed?' + +'Only temporarily; you know he dabbles in speculations, and he lost a +good deal by those mining shares last year; that was the reason why we +missed our usual London season. No, it is not that. You see he has never +relinquished the secret ambition of a seat in Parliament. I know him so +well; nothing can turn him from anything on which he has set his heart, +and either of those men would have helped him to compass his end.' + +'He has no right to sacrifice you to his ambition.' + +'You need not fear, I am no Iphigenia. I could not marry Sir Robert, and +I would not marry Mr. Cathcart. Thank Heaven, I have self-respect enough +to guard me from such humiliation. The worst is,' she hesitated, 'papa +is so quick that he found out how his intellect fascinated me; it was +the mere fascination of the moment, and died a natural death; but he +will have it I was not indifferent to him, and it is this that makes him +so mad. He says it is obstinacy, and nothing else.' + +'Mr. Cathcart has not renewed his offer? forgive me,' as Ethel drew +herself up, and looked somewhat offended. 'You know I dread that man--so +sceptical--full of sophistry. Oh, my dear! I cannot help fearing him.' + +'You need not,' with a sad smile; 'my heart is still in my own keeping. +No,' as Mildred's glance questioned her archly, 'I have been guilty of +nothing but a little hero-worship, but nevertheless,' she averred, +'intellect and goodness must go hand-in-hand before I can call any man +my master.' + +'I shall not despair of you finding them together; but come, I will not +let you stay any longer, or your pale cheeks will excite comment. Let me +wrap this cloak round you--come.' + +But Ethel still lingered. + +'Don't let Richard know all this; he takes my unhappiness too much to +heart already; only ask him to come sometimes and break the monotony.' + +'He will come.' + +'Things always seem better when he is with us; he makes papa talk, and +much of the restraint seems removed. Well, good-night; this is sad +birthday-talk, but I could not keep the pain in.' + +As Mildred softly closed the door she saw Richard beside her. + +'What have you been talking about all this time?' he asked, anxiously. + +'Only on the old sore subject. She is very unhappy, Richard; she wants +you to go oftener. You do her father good.' + +'But she looked pale to-night. She is not in fresh trouble, is she, Aunt +Milly?' + +'No, only the misunderstanding gets more every day; we must all do what +we can to lighten her load.' + +Richard made no answer, he seemed thinking deeply; even after Mildred +left him he remained in the same place. + +'One of these days she must know it, and why not now?' he said to +himself, and there was a strange concentrated light in his eyes as he +said it. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE HEART OF COEUR-DE-LION + + 'At length, as suddenly become aware + Of this long pause, she lifted up her face, + And he withdrew his eyes--she looked so fair + And cold, he thought, in her unconscious grace. + Ah! little dreams she of the restless care, + He thought, that makes my heart to throb apace: + Though we this morning part, the knowledge sends + No thrill to her calm pulse--we are but Friends!' + + Jean Ingelow. + + +Mildred pondered long and sorrowfully that night over her friend's +trouble. + +She knew it was no fancied or exaggerated recital of wrongs. The inmates +of the vicarage had commented openly on the Squire's changed looks and +bearing. His cordiality had always savoured more or less of +condescension, but latterly he had held himself aloof from his +neighbours, and there had been a gloomy reserve in his manner that had +made him well-nigh unapproachable. + +Irritable and ready to take offence, and quick to resent even a +difference of opinion, he was already on bad terms with more than one of +his neighbours. Dr. Heriot's well-deserved popularity, and his plainness +of speech, had already given umbrage to his jealous and haughty +temperament. It was noticed on all sides that the Doctor was a less +frequent visitor at Kirkleatham House, and that Mr. Trelawny was much +given to carp at any expressed opinion that emanated from that source. + +This was incomprehensible, to say the least of it, as he had always been +on excellent terms with both father and daughter; but little did any one +guess the real reason of so inexplicable a change. + +Ethel was right when she acknowledged that ambition was her father's +besetting sin; the petty interests of squirearchal life had never +satiated his dominant passion and thirst for power. Side by side with +his ambition, and narrow aims there was a vacuum that he would fain have +filled with work of a broader type, and with a pertinacity that would +have been noble but for its subtle egotism, he desired to sit among the +senators of his people. + +Twice had he essayed and twice been beaten, and it had been whispered +that his hands were not quite clean, with the cleanness of a man to whom +corruption is a hideous snare; and still, with a dogged resolution that +ought to have served him, he determined that one day, and at all costs, +his desire should be accomplished. + +Already there were hints of a coming election, and whispered reports of +a snug borough that would not be too severely contested; but Mr. +Trelawny had another aim. The Conservative member for the next borough +had given offence to his constituents by bringing in a Bill for the +reformation of some dearly-loved abuse. The inhabitants were up in arms; +there had been much speechifying and a procession, during which sundry +well-meaning flatterers had already whispered that the right man in the +right place would be a certain lord of beeves and country squire, to +whom the township and people were as dear as though he had first drawn +breath in their midst. + +Parliament would shortly be dissolved, it was urged, and Mr. Trelawny's +chances would be great; already his friends were canvassing on his +behalf, and among them Mr. Cathcart, of Broadlands. + +The Cathcarts were bankers and the most influential people, and +commanded a great number of votes, and it was Edgar Cathcart who had +used such strong language against the aforesaid member for meddling with +an abuse which had been suffered for at least two hundred years, and was +respectable for its very antiquity. + +Ethel's refusal of Edgar Cathcart had inflicted a deadly blow to her +father's interests, and one that he was never likely to forgive, all the +more that he was shrewd enough to suspect that she had not been +altogether indifferent to his fascination of manner. + +Now above all things he had coveted this man for his son-in-law. +Broadlands and its hereditary thousands would have been no mean match +for the daughter of a country squire. With Edgar Cathcart to back him he +could have snapped his fingers at the few loyal voters who would have +still rallied round their erring townsman, and from a hint that had been +lately dropped, he knew the banker was ready at any moment to renew his +offer; but Ethel had persisted in her refusal, and bitterly and loudly +did her father curse the folly of a girl who could renounce such a +position for a mere whim or fancy. + +'If you do not love him, whom do you love?' he had said to her, and, +courageous as she was, she had quailed before the sneer that had +accompanied his words. + +But she never guessed the thought that rose in his mind as he said them. +'She has some infatuation that makes her proof against other men's +addresses,' he argued angrily with himself. 'No girl in her senses could +be blind to the attraction of a man like Edgar Cathcart unless she has +already given away her heart. I am not satisfied about this fellow +Heriot. He comes here far too often, and she encourages him. I always +thought he meant to marry Lambert's prim sister; but he is so deep there +is no reading him. I shall have to pick a quarrel to get rid of him, for +if he once gets an influence over Ethel, all Cathcart's chances are +gone.' + +Like many other narrow-minded men, Mr. Trelawny brooded over an idea +until it became fixed and ineradicable. Ethel's warm reception of Dr. +Heriot, and her evident pleasure in his society, were construed as so +many evidences of his own sagacity and her guilt. His only child and +heiress, for whom he had planned so splendid a future, intended to throw +herself away on a common country practitioner; she meant to disgrace +herself and him. + +The wound rankled and became envenomed, steeping his whole soul in +bitterness and discontent. He was a disappointed man, he told +himself--disappointed in his ambition and in his domestic affections. He +had loved his wife, as such men love, next to himself; he had had a +certain pride in the possession of her, and though he had ever ruled her +with a rod of iron, he had mingled much fondness with his rule. But she +had left him, and the sons, who had been to him as the twin apples of +his eyes, had gone likewise. He had groaned and humbled himself beneath +that terrible stroke, and had for a little time walked softly as one who +has been smitten justly; and the pathos of his self-pity had been such +that others had been constrained to feel for him, though they marvelled +that his daughter, with the mother's eyes, had so little power to +comfort him. + +There were times when he wondered also, when his veiled coldness showed +rents in it, and he owned to a certain pride in her that was not devoid +of tenderness. + +For it was only of late that he had fallen into such carping ways, and +that the real breach was apparent. It was true Ethel had her mother's +eyes, but she lacked her mother's submissive gentleness; never a meek +woman, she had yet to learn the softness that disarms wrath. Her +open-eyed youth found flaws in everything that was not intrinsically +excellent. She canvassed men and manners with the warm injudiciousness +of undeveloped wisdom; acts were nothing, motives everything, and no +cleanness available that had a stain on its whiteness. + +In place of the plastic girlhood he expected, Mr. Trelawny found himself +confronted by this daring and youthful Argus. He soon discovered Ethel's +inner sympathies were in open revolt against his. It galled him, even in +his pride, to see those clear, candid eyes measuring, half unconsciously +and half incredulously, the narrow limits of his nature. Whatever he +might seem to others, he knew his own child had weighed him in the +balance of her harsh-judging youth, and found him wanting. + +It was not that her manner lacked dutifulness, or that she ever failed +in the outward acts of a daughter; below the surface of their mutual +reserve there was, at least on Ethel's part, a deep craving for a better +understanding; but even if he were secretly fond of her, there was no +denying that Mr. Trelawny was uneasy in her presence; conscience often +spoke to him in her indignant young voice; under those shining blue eyes +ambition seemed paltry, and the stratagems and manoeuvres of party +spirit little better than mere truckling and the low cunning of deceit. + +It would not be too much to say that he almost feared her; that there +were times when this sense of uncongeniality was so oppressive that he +would gladly have got rid of her, when he would rather have been left +alone than endure the silent rebuke of her presence. Of late his anger +had been very great against her; the scorn with which she had defended +herself against his tenacious will had rankled deeply in his mind, and +as yet there was no question of forgiveness. + +If he could not bend her to his purpose he would at least treat her as +one treats a contumacious child. She had spoken words--rash, +unadvisable, but honest words--which even his little soul had felt +deeply. No, he would not forgive her; there should be no confidence, no +loving intercourse between them, till she had given up this foolish +fancy of hers, or at least had brought herself to promise that she would +give it up; and yet, strange to say, though Dr. Heriot had become a +thorn in his side, though the dread of him drove all comfort from his +pillow, he yet lacked courage openly to accuse her; some latent sense of +honour within him checked him from so insulting his motherless child. + +It so happened that on the evening after Mildred's birthday, Dr. Heriot +called up at Kirkleatham House to speak to Mr. Trelawny on some matter +of business. + +Richard was dining there, and Ethel's careworn face had relaxed into +smiles at the sight of her favourite; the gloomy room seemed brightened +somehow, dinner was less long and oppressive, no awful pauses of silence +fell between the father and daughter to be bridged over tremblingly. +Richard's cheerful voice and ready flow of talk--a little forced, +perhaps--went on smoothly and evenly; enthusiasm was not possible under +the chilling restraint of Mr. Trelawny's measured sentences, but at +least Ethel saw the effort and was grateful for it. + +Richard was holding forth fluently on a three days' visit to London that +he had lately paid, when a muttered exclamation from Mr. Trelawny +interrupted him, and a moment afterwards the door-bell rang. + +A shade of angry annoyance passed over the Squire's handsome, face--his +thin lips closed ominously. + +'What does he want at this time of night?' he demanded, darting a +suspicious glance at Ethel, whose quick ears had recognised the +footsteps; her bright flush of pleasure faded away at that wrathful +look; she heaved a little petulant sigh as her father left the room, +closing the door sharply after him. + +'It is like everything else,' she murmured. 'It used to be so pleasant +his dropping in of an evening, but everything seems spoiled somehow.' + +'I do not understand. I thought Dr. Heriot was so intimate here,' +returned Richard, astonished and shocked at this new aspect of things. +Mr. Trelawny's look of angry annoyance had not been lost on him--what +had come to him? would he quarrel with them all? 'I do not understand; I +have been away so long, you know,' and unconsciously his voice took its +softest tone. + +'There is nothing to understand,' replied Ethel, wearily; 'only papa and +he are not such good friends now; they have disagreed in +politics--gentlemen will, you know--and lately Dr. Heriot has vexed him +by insisting on some sanitary reforms in some of the cottages. Papa +hates any interference with his tenants, and it is not easy to silence +Dr. Heriot when he thinks it is his duty to speak.' + +'And sanitary reform is Dr. John's special hobby. Yes, I see; it is a +grievous pity,' assented Richard, and then he resumed the old topic. It +was not that he was unsympathising, but he could not forget the +happiness of being alone with Ethel; the opportunity had come for which +he had longed all last night. As he talked on calmly and rapidly his +temples beat and ached with excitement. Once or twice he stole a furtive +glance as she sat somewhat absently beside him. Could he venture it? +would not his lips close if he essayed a subject at once so sweet and +perilous? As he talked he noted every trick, every gesture; the quaint +fashion of her dress, made of some soft, clinging material; it had a +Huguenot sleeve, he remembered--for she had told him it was designed +from a French picture--and was trimmed with old Venetian point; an +oddly-shaped mosaic ring gleamed on one of her long taper fingers and +was her only ornament. He had never seen her look so picturesque and yet +so sweet as she did that night, but as he looked the last particle of +courage seemed to desert him. Ethel listened only absently as he talked; +she was straining her ears to catch some sound from the adjoining room. +For once Richard's talk wearied her. How loudly the birds were chirping +their good-night--would he come in and wish her good-bye as he used to +do, and then linger for an hour or so over his cup of coffee? Hark! that +was his voice. Was he going? And, oh! surely that was not her father's +answering him. + +'Hush! oh, please hush!' she exclaimed, holding out a hand as though to +silence him, and moving towards the door. 'Oh, Richard, what shall we +do? I knew it would come to this.' + +'Come to what? Is there anything the matter? Please do not look so pale +over it.' What had she heard--what new vexation was this? But as he +stood beside her, even he caught the low, vehement tones of some angry +discussion. There was no denying Ethel's paleness; she almost wrung her +hands. + +'Of course; did I not tell you? Oh, you do not know papa! When he is +angry like this, he will say things that no one can bear. Dr. Heriot +will never come here again--never! He is quarrelling with all his +friends. By and by he will with you, and then you will learn to hate +us.' + +'No, no--you must not say that,' replied Richard, soothingly. With her +distress all his courage had returned. He even ventured to touch her +hand, but she drew it quickly away. She was not thinking of Richard now, +but of a certain kind friend whose wise counsels she had learnt to +value. + +At least he should not go without bidding her good-bye. Ethel never +thought of prudence in these moments of hot indignation. To Richard's +dismay she caught her hand away from him and flung open the door. + +'Why is Dr. Heriot going, papa?' she asked, walking up to them with a +certain majesty of gait which she could assume at times. As she asked +the question she flashed one of her keen, open-eyed looks on her father. +The Squire's olive complexion had turned sallow with suppressed wrath, +the veins on his forehead were swollen like whipcord; as he answered +her, the harshness of his voice grated roughly on her ear. + +'You are not wanted, Ethel; go back to young Lambert. I cannot allow +girls to interfere in my private business.' + +'You have quarrelled with Dr. Heriot, papa,' returned Ethel, in her +ringing tones, and keeping her ground unflinchingly, in spite of +Richard's whispered remonstrance. + +'Come away--you will only make it worse,' he whispered; but she had +turned her face impatiently from him. + +'Papa, it is not right--it is not fair. Dr. Heriot has done nothing to +deserve such treatment; and you are sending him away in anger.' + +'Ethel, how dare you!' returned the Squire. 'Go back into that room +instantly. If you have no self-respect, and cannot control your feeling, +it is my duty to protect you.' + +'Will you protect me by quarrelling with all my friends?' returned +Ethel, in her indignant young voice; her delicate nostrils quivered, the +curve of her long neck was superb. 'Dr. Heriot has only told you the +truth, as he always does.' + +'Indeed, you must not judge your father--after all, he has a right to +choose his own friends in his own house--you are very good, Miss +Trelawny, to try and defend me, but it is your father's quarrel, not +yours.' + +'If you hold intercourse with my daughter after this, you are no man of +honour----' began the Squire with rage, but Dr. Heriot quietly +interrupted him. + +'As far as I can I will respect your strange caprice, Mr. Trelawny; but +I hope you do not mean to forbid my addressing a word to an old friend +when we meet on neutral ground;' and the gentle dignity of his manner +held Mr. Trelawny's wrath in abeyance, until Ethel's imprudence kindled +it afresh. + +'It is not fair--I protest against such injustice!' she exclaimed; but +Dr. Heriot silenced her. + +'Hush, it is not your affair, Miss Trelawny; you are so generous, but, +indeed, your father and I are better apart for a little. When he +retracts what he has said, he will not find me unforgiving. Now, +good-bye.' The brief sternness vanished from his manner, and he held out +his hand to her with his old kind smile, his eyes were full of benignant +pity as he looked at her pale young face; it was so like her generosity +to defend her friends, he thought. + +Richard followed him down the long carriage road, and they stood for a +while outside the lodge gates. If Dr. Heriot held the clue to this +strange quarrel, he kept his own counsel. + +'He is a narrow-minded man with warped views and strong passions; he may +cool down, and find out his mistake one day,' was all he said to +Richard. 'I only pity his daughter for being his daughter.' + +He might well pity her. Richard little thought, as he hurried after his +friend, what an angry hurricane the imprudent girl had brought on +herself; with all her courage, the Squire made her quail and tremble +under his angry sneers. + +'Papa! papa!' was all she could say, when the last bitter arrow was +launched at her. 'Papa, say you do not mean it--that he cannot think +that.' + +'What else can a man think when a girl is fool enough to stand up for +him? For once--yes, for once--I was ashamed of my daughter!' + +'Ashamed of me?'--drawing herself up, but beginning to tremble from head +to foot--that she, Ethel Trelawny, should be subjected to this insult! + +'Yes, ashamed of you! that my daughter should be absolutely courting the +notice of a beggarly surgeon--that----' + +'Papa, I forbid you to say another word,'--in a voice that thrilled +him--it was so like her mother's, when she had once--yes, only +once--risen against the oppression of his injustice--'you have gone too +far; I repel your insinuation with scorn. Dr. Heriot does not think this +of me.' + +'What else can he think?' but he blenched a little under those clear +innocent eyes. + +'He will think I am sorry to lose so good a friend,' she returned, and +her breast heaved a little; 'he will think that Ethel Trelawny hates +injustice even in her own father; he will think what is only true and +kind,' her voice dropping into sadness; and with that she walked +silently from the room. + +She was hard hit, but she would not show it; her step was as proud as +ever till she had left her father's presence, and then it faltered and +slackened, and a great shock of pain came over her face. + +She had denied the insinuation with scorn, but what if he really thought +it? What if her imprudent generosity, always too prone to buckle on +harness for another, were to be construed wrongly--what if in his eyes +she should already have humiliated herself? + +With what sternness he had rebuked her judgment of her father; with him, +want of dutifulness and reverence were heinous sins that nothing could +excuse; she remembered how he had ever praised meekness in women, and +how, when she had laughingly denied all claim to that virtue, he had +answered her half sadly, 'No, you are not meek, and never will be, until +trouble has broken your spirit: you are too aggressive by nature to wear +patiently the "ornament of a meek and quiet spirit;"' and she remembered +how that half-jesting, half-serious speech had troubled her. + +Ethel's feeling for Dr. Heriot had been the purest hero-worship; she had +been proud of his friendship, and the loss of it under any circumstances +would have troubled her sadly; she had never blinded herself to the fact +that more than this would be impossible. + +Already her keen eyes had lighted on his probable choice, some one who +should bring meekness in lieu of beauty, and fill his home with the +sunshiny sweetness of her smile. 'She will be a happy woman, whoever she +is,' thought Ethel, with a sigh, not perfectly free from envy; there +were so few men who were good as well as wise, 'and this was one,' she +said to herself, and a flood of sadness came over her as she remembered +that speech about her lack of meekness. + +If he could only think well of her--if she had not lost caste in his +eyes, she thought, it might still be well with her, and in a half-sad, +half-jesting way she had pictured her life as Ethel Trelawny always, +'walking in maiden meditation fancy free,' a little solitary, perhaps, a +trifle dull, but wiser and better when the troublesome garb of youth was +laid aside, and she could--as in very honesty she longed to do now--call +all men her brothers. But the proud maidenly reserve was stabbed at all +points; true, or untrue, Ethel was writhing under those sneering words. +Richard found her, on his return, standing white and motionless by the +window; her eyes had a plaintive look in them as of a wild animal too +much hurt to defend itself; her pale cheeks alarmed him. + +'Why do you agitate yourself so? there is no cause! Dr. Heriot has just +told me it is a mere quarrel that may be healed any time.' + +'It is not that--it is those bitter cruel words,' she returned, in a +strange, far-away voice; 'that one's own father should say such things,' +and then her lip quivered, and two large tears welled slowly to her +eyes. Ah, there was the secret stab--her own father! + +'My dear Miss Trelawny--Ethel--I cannot bear to see you like this. You +are overwrought--all this has upset you. Come into the air and let us +talk a little.' + +'What is there to talk about?' she returned dreamily. + +He had called her Ethel for the first time since their old childish +days, and she had not noticed it. She offered no resistance as he +brought a soft fleecy shawl and wrapped it round her, and then gently +removed the white motionless fingers that were clutching the +window-frame; as they moved hand in hand over the grassy terrace, she +was quite unconscious of the firm, warm pressure; somewhere far away she +was thinking of a forlorn Ethel, whose father had spoken cruel words to +her. Richard was always good to her--always; there was nothing new in +that. Only once she turned and smiled at her favourite, with a smile so +sad and sweet that it almost broke his heart. + +'How kind you are; you always take such care of me, Richard.' + +'I wish I could--I wish I dare try,' he returned, in an odd, choked +voice. 'Let us go to your favourite seat, Ethel; the sun has not set +yet.' + +'It has set for me to-night,' she replied, mournfully. + +The creeping mists winding round the blue bases of the far-off hills +suited her better, she thought. She followed Richard mechanically into +the quaint kitchen garden; there was a broad terrace-walk, with a seat +placed so as to command the distant view; great bushes of cabbage-roses +and southernwood scented the air; gilly-flowers, and sweet-williams, and +old-fashioned stocks bloomed in the borders; below them the garden +sloped steeply to the crofts, and beyond lay the circling hills. In the +distance they could hear the faint pealing of the curfew bell, and the +bleating of the flocks in the crofts. + +Ethel drew a deep sigh; the sweet calmness of the scene seemed to soothe +her. + +'You were right to bring me here,' she said at last, gratefully. + +'I have brought you here--because I want to speak to you,' returned +Richard, with the same curious break in his voice. + +His temples were beating still, but he was calm, strangely calm, he +remembered afterwards. How did it happen? were the words his own or +another's? How did it come that she was shrinking away from him with +that startled look in her eyes, and that he was speaking in that low, +passionate voice? Was it this he meant when he called her Ethel? + +'No, no! say you do not mean it, Richard! Oh, Richard, Richard!' her +voice rising into a perfect cry of pain. What, must she lose him too? + +'Dear, how can I say it? I have always meant to tell you--always; it is +not my fault that I have loved you, Ethel; the love has grown up and +become a part of myself ever since we were children together!' + +'Does Mildred--does any one know?' she asked, and a vivid crimson +mantled in her pale cheeks as she asked the question. + +'Yes, my father knows--and Aunt Milly. I think they all guessed my +secret long ago--all but you,' in a tenderly reproachful voice; 'why +should they not know? I am not ashamed of it,' continued the young man, +a little loftily. + +Somehow they had changed characters. It was Ethel who was timid now. + +'But--but--they could not have approved,' she faltered at last. + +'Why should they not approve? My father loves you as a daughter--they +all do; they would take you into their hearts, and you would never be +lonely again. Oh, Ethel, is there no hope? Do you mean that you cannot +love me?' + +'I have always loved you; but we are too young, yes, that is it, we are +too young--too much of an age. If I marry, I must look up to my husband. +Indeed, indeed, we are too young, Richard!' + +'I am, you mean;' how calm he was growing; why his very voice was under +his control now. 'Listen to me, dear: I am only six months older than +you, but in a love like mine age does not count; it is no boyish lover +you are dismissing, Ethel; I am older in everything than you; I should +not be afraid to take care of you.' + +No, he was not afraid; as she looked up into that handsome resolute +face, and read there the earnestness of his words, Ethel's eyes dropped +before that clear, dominant glance as they had never done before. It was +she that was afraid now--afraid of this young lover, so grave, so +strong, so self-controlled; this was not her old favourite, this new, +quiet-spoken Richard. She would fain have kept them both, but it must +not be. + +'May I speak to your father?' he pleaded. 'At least you will be frank +with me; I have little to offer, I know--a hard-working curate's home, +and that not yet.' + +'Hush! I will not have this from you,' and for a moment Ethel's true +woman's soul gleamed in her eyes; 'if you were penniless it would make +no difference; I would give up anything, everything for the man I loved. +For shame, Richard, when you know I loathe the very name of riches.' + +'Yes, I know your great soul, Ethel; it is this that I love even more +than your beauty, and I must not tell you what I think of that; it is +not because I am poor and unambitious that you refuse me?' + +'No, no,' she returned hurriedly; 'you know it is not.' + +'And you do not love any one else?' + +'No, Richard,' still more faintly. + +'Then I will not despair,' and as he spoke there rushed upon him a +sudden conviction, from whence he knew not, that one day this girl whom +he was wooing so earnestly, and who was silencing him with such brief +sweet replies, should one day be his wife; that the beauty, and the +great soul, and the sad yearning heart should be his and no other's; +that one day--a long distant day, perhaps--he should win her for his +own. + +And with the conviction, as he told Mildred long afterwards, there came +a settled calm, and a wonderful strength that he never felt before; the +world, his own world, seemed flooded over with this great purpose and +love of his; and as he stood there before her, almost stooping over, and +yet not touching her, there came a vivid brightness into his eyes that +scared Ethel. + +'Of what are you thinking, Richard?' she said almost tremblingly. + +'Nay, I must not tell you.' + +Should he tell her? would she credit this strange prophecy of his? dimly +across his mind, as he stood there before her, there came the thought of +a certain shepherd, who waited seven years for the Rachel of his love. + +'No, I will not tell you; dear, give me your hand,' and as she gave it +him--wondering and yet fearful--he touched it lightly and reverently +with his lips. + +'Now I must go. Some day--years hence, perhaps--I shall speak of this +again; until then we are friends still, is it not so?' + +'Yes--yes,' she returned eagerly; 'we must try to forget this. I cannot +lose you altogether, Richard.' + +'You will never lose me; perhaps--yes it will be better--I may go away +for a little time; you must promise me one thing, to take care of +yourself, if only for the sake of your old friend Richard.' + +'Yes, I will promise,' she returned, bursting into tears. Oh, why was +her heart so hard; why could she not love him? As she looked after him, +walking with grave even strides down the garden path, a passionate pity +and yearning seemed to wake in her heart. How good he was, how noble, +how true. 'Oh, if he were not so young, and I could love him as he ought +to be loved,' she said to herself as the gate clanged after him, and she +was left alone in the sunset. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +WHARTON HALL FARM + + 'A dappled sky, a world of meadows, + Circling above us the black rooks fly + Forward, backward; lo, their dark shadow + Flits on the blossoming tapestry. + + Bare grassy slopes, where kids are tethered + Round valleys like nests all ferny-lined, + Round hills, with fluttering tree-tops feathered, + Swell high in their freckled robes behind.' + + Jean Ingelow. + + +Mr. Lambert was soon made acquainted with his son's disappointment; but +his sympathy was somewhat chilled by Richard's composed tranquillity of +bearing. Perhaps it might be a little forced, but the young man +certainly bore himself as though he had sustained no special defeat; the +concentrated gravity of purpose which had scared Ethel was still +apparent. + +'You need not be so anxious about me, father,' he said, with almost a +smile, in return to Mr. Lambert's look of questioning sadness. 'I have +climbed too high and have had a fall, that is all. I must bear what +other and better men have borne before me.' + +'My brave boy; but, Cardie, is there no hope of relenting; none?' + +'She would not have me, that is all I can tell you,' returned Richard, +in the same quiet voice. 'You must not take this too much to heart; it +is my fate to love her, and to go on loving her; if she refused me a +dozen times, it would be the same with me, father.' + +Mr. Lambert shook his head; he was greatly troubled; for the moment his +heart was a little sore against this girl, who was the destroyer of his +son's peace. + +'You may hide it from me, but you will eat out your heart with sadness +and longing,' he said, with something of a groan. Richard was very dear +to him, though he was not Benjamin. He was more like Joseph, he thought, +a little quaintly, as he looked up at the noble young face. 'Yes, +Joseph, the ruler among his brethren. Ah, Cardie, it is not to be, I +suppose; and now you will eat out your heart and youth with the longing +after this girl.' + +'Do not think so meanly of me,' returned the young man with a flush. +'You loved my mother for three years before you married her, and I only +pleaded my cause yesterday. Do you think I should be worthy of loving +the noblest, yes, the noblest of women,' he continued, his gray eyes +lighting up with enthusiasm, 'if I were so weakly to succumb to this +disappointment. _Laborare est orare_--that shall be my motto, father. We +must leave results in higher hands.' + +'God bless and comfort you, my son,' returned Mr. Lambert, with some +emotion. He looked at Richard with a sort of tender reverence; would +that all disappointed lovers could bear themselves as generously as his +brave boy, he thought; and then they sat for a few minutes in silence. + +'You do not mind my going away for a little while? I think Roy would be +glad to have me?' asked Richard presently. + +'No, Cardie; but we shall be sorry to lose you.' + +'If I were only thinking of myself, I would remain; but it will be +better for her,' he continued, hesitating; 'she could not come here, at +least, not yet; but if I were away it would make no difference. I want +you all to be kinder than ever to her, father,' and now his voice shook +a little for the first time. 'You do not know how utterly lonely and +miserable she is,' and the promise given, Richard quietly turned the +conversation into other channels. + +But he was less reticent with Mildred, and to her he avowed that his +pain was very great. + +'I can bear to live without her; at least I could be patient for years, +but I cannot bear leaving her to her father's sorry protection. If my +love could only shield her in her trouble, I think I could be content,' +and Mildred understood him. + +'We will all be so good to her for your sake,' she returned, with a nice +womanly tact, not wearying him with effusion of sympathy, but giving him +just the comforting assurance he needed. Richard's fortitude and +calmness had deceived his father, but Mildred knew something of the +silence of exceeding pain. + +'Thank you,' he said in a low voice; and Mildred knew she had said the +right thing. + +But as he was bidding them good-bye two days afterwards, he beckoned her +apart from the others. + +'Aunt Milly, I trust her to you,' he said, hurriedly; 'remember all my +comfort lies in your goodness to her.' + +'Yes, Richard, I know; as far as I can, I will be her friend. You shall +hear everything from me,' and so she sent him away half-comforted. + +Half--comforted, though his heart ached with its mighty burden of love; +and though he would have given half his strong young years to hear her +say, 'I love you, Richard.' Could older men love better, nay, half as +well as he did, with such self-sacrificing purity and faith? + +Yes, his pain was great, for delay and uncertainty are bitter to the +young, and they would fain cleave with impatient hand the veiled mystery +of life; but nevertheless his heart was strong within him, for though he +could not speak of his hope, for fear that others might call it +visionary, yet it stirred to the very foundation of his soul; for so +surely as he suffered now, he knew that one day he should call Ethel +Trelawny his wife. + +When Richard was gone, and the household unobservant and occupied in its +own business, Mildred quietly fetched her shady hat, and went through +the field paths, bordered by tall grasses and great shining ox-eyed +daises, which led to the shrubberies of Kirkleatham. + +The great house was blazing in the sunshine; Ethel's doves were cooing +from the tower; through the trees Mildred could see the glimmer of a +white gown; the basket-work chair was in its old place, under her +favourite acacia tree; the hills looked blue and misty in the distance. + +Ethel turned very pale when she saw her friend, and there was visible +constraint in her manner. + +'I did not expect you; you should not have come out in all this heat, +Mildred.' + +'I knew you would scold me; but I have not seen you for nearly a week, +so I came through the tropics to look after you,' returned Mildred, +playfully. 'You are under my care now. Richard begged me to be good to +you,' she continued, more seriously. + +A painful flush crossed Ethel's face; her eyelids dropped. + +'You must not let this come between us, Ethel; it will make him more +unhappy than he is, and I fear,' speaking still more gravely, 'that +though he says so little about himself, that he must be very unhappy.' + +Ethel tried ineffectually to control her emotion. + +'I could not help it. You have no right to blame me, Mildred,' she said +in a low voice. + +'No, you could not help it! Who blames you, dear?--not I, nor Richard. +It was not your fault, my poor Ethel, that you could not love your old +playmate. It is your misfortune and his, that is all.' + +'I know how good he is,' returned Ethel, with downcast eyes. Yes, it was +her misfortune, she knew; was he not brave and noble, her knight, _sans +peur_ and _sans reproche_, her lion-hearted Richard? Could any man be +more worthy of a woman's love?--and yet she had said him 'nay.' 'I know +he is good, too good,' she said, with a little spasm of fury against her +own hardness of heart, 'and I was a churl to refuse his love.' + +'Hush; how could you help it? we cannot control these things, we women,' +returned Mildred, still anxious to soothe. She looked at the pale girl +before her with a feeling of tender awe, not unmixed with envy, that she +should have inspired such passionate devotion, and yet remained +untouched by it. This was a puzzle to gentle Mildred. 'You must try to +put it all out of your mind, and come to us again,' she finished, with +an unconscious sigh. 'Richard wished it; that is why he has gone away.' + +'Has he gone away?' asked Ethel with a startled glance, and Mildred's +brief resentment vanished when she saw how heavy the once brilliant eyes +looked. Richard would have been grieved as well as comforted if he had +known how many tears Ethel's hardness of heart had caused her. She had +been thinking very tenderly of him until Mildred came between her and +the sunshine; she was sorry and yet relieved to hear he was gone; the +pain of meeting him again would be so great, she thought. + +'It was wise of him to go, was it not?' returned Mildred. 'It was just +like his kind consideration. Oh, you do not know Richard.' + +'No, I do not know him,' replied Ethel, humbly. 'When he came and spoke +to me, I would not believe it was he, himself; it seemed another +Richard, so different. Oh, Mildred, tell me that you do not hate me for +being so hard, not as I hate myself.' + +'No, no, my poor child,' returned Mildred fondly. Ethel had thrown +herself on the grass beside her friend, and was looking up in her face +with great pathetic eyes. With her white gown and pale cheeks she looked +very young and fair. Mildred was thankful Richard could not see her. +'No, whatever happens, we shall always be the same to each other. I +shall only love you a little more because Richard loves you.' + +There was not much talk after that. Ethel's shyness was not easily to be +overcome. The sweet dreamy look had come back to her eyes. Mildred had +forgiven her; she would not let this pain come between them; she might +still be with her friends at the vicarage; and as she thought of this +she blessed Richard in her heart for his generosity. + +But Mildred went back a little sadly down the croft, and through the +path with the great white daisies. The inequality of things oppressed +her; the surface of their little world seemed troubled and disturbed as +though with some impending changes. They were girls and boys no longer, +but men and women, with full-grown capacities for joy and sorrow, with +youthful desires stretching hither and thither. + +'Most men work out their lot in life. After all, Cardie may get his +heart's desire; it is only women who must wait till their fate comes to +them, sometimes with empty hands,' thought Mildred, a little +rebelliously, looking over the long level of sunshine that lay before +her; and then she shook off the thought as though it stung her, and +hummed a little tune as she filled her basket with roses. 'Roses and +sunshine; a golden paradise hiding somewhere behind the low blue hills; +the earth, radiant under the Divine glittering smile; a fragrant wind +sweeping over the sea of grass, till it rippled with green light; "and +God saw that it was good," this beautiful earth that He had made, yes, +it is good; it is only we who cloud and mar its brightness with our +repinings,' thought Mildred, preaching to herself softly, as she laid +the white buds among her ferns. 'A jarring note, a missing chord, and we +are out of harmony with it all; and though the sun shines, the midges +trouble us.' + +It was arranged that on the next day Mr. Marsden was to escort Mildred +and her nieces to Wharton Hall, that the young curate might have an +opportunity of witnessing a Westmorland clipping. + +It was an intensely hot afternoon, but neither Polly nor Chriss were +willing to give up the expedition. So as Mildred was too good-natured to +plead a headache as an excuse, and as Olive was always ready to enact +the part of a martyr on an emergency, neither of them owned how greatly +they dreaded the hot, shadeless roads. + +'It is a long lane that has no turning,' gasped Hugh, as they reached +the little gate that bounded the Wharton Hall property. 'It is a mercy +we have escaped sunstroke.' + +'Providence is kinder than you deserve, you see,' observed a quiet voice +behind him. + +And there was Dr. Heriot leading his horse over the turf. + +'Miss Lambert, have you taken leave of your usual good sense, or have +you forgotten to consult your thermometer?' + +'I was unwilling to disappoint the girls, that was all,' returned +Mildred; 'they were so anxious that Mr. Marsden should be initiated into +the mysteries of sheep-clipping. Mrs. Colby has promised us some tea, +and we shall have a long rest, and return in the cool of the evening.' + +'I think I shall get an invitation for tea too. My mare has lamed +herself, and I wanted Michael Colby's head man to see her; he is a handy +fellow. I was here yesterday on business; they were clipping then.' + +'Mr. Marsden ought to have been here two years ago,' interposed Polly +eagerly. 'Mr. Colby got up a regular old-fashioned clipping for Aunt +Milly. Oh, it was such fun.' + +'What! are there fashions in sheep-shearing?' asked Hugh, in an amused +tone. They were still standing by the little gate, under the shade of +some trees; before them were the farm-buildings and outhouses; and the +great ivied gateway, which led to the courtyard and house. Under the +gray walls were some small Scotch oxen; a peacock trailed its feathers +lazily in the dust. The air was resonant with the bleating of sheep and +lambs; the girls in their white dresses and broad-brimmed hats made a +pretty picture under the old elms. Mildred looked like a soft gray +shadow behind them. + +'There are clippings and clippings,' returned Dr. Heriot, sententiously, +in answer to Hugh's half-amused and half-contemptuous question. 'This is +a very ordinary affair compared with that to which Polly refers.' + +'How so?' asked Hugh, curiously. + +'Owners of large stocks, I have been told, often have their sheep +clipped in sections, employ a certain number of men from day to day, and +provide a certain number of sheep, each clipper turning off seven or +eight sheep an hour.' + +'Well, and the old-fashioned clipping?' + +'Oh, that was another affair, and involved feasting and revelry. The +owner of a farm like this, for example, sets apart a special day, and +bids his friends and neighbours for miles round to assist him in the +work. It is generally considered that a man should clip threescore and +ten sheep in a day, a good clipper fourscore.' + +'I thought the sheep-washing last month a very amusing sight.' + +'Ah, Sowerby tells me that sheep improve more between washing and +clipping than at any other period of equal length. Have you ever seen +Best's _Farming Book_, two hundred years old? If you can master the old +spelling, it is very curious to read. It says there "that a man should +always forbear clipping his sheep till such time as he find their wool +indifferently well risen from the skin; and that for divers reasons."' + +'Give us the reasons,' laughed Hugh. 'I believe if I were not in holy +orders I should prefer farming to any other calling.' And Dr. Heriot +drew out a thick notebook. + +'I was struck with the quaintness, and copied the extract out verbatim. +This is what old Best says:-- + + '"I. When the wool is well risen from the skin the fleece is as + it were walked together on the top, and underneath it is but + lightly fastened to the undergrowth; and when a fleece is thus + it is called a mattrice coat. + + '"II. When wool is thus risen there is no waste, for it comes + wholly off without any bits or locks. + + '"III. Fleeces, when they are thus, are far more easy to wind + up, and also more easy for the clippers, for a man may almost + pull them off without any clipping at all. + + '"IV. Sheep that have their wool thus risen have, without + question, a good undergrowth, whereby they will be better able + to endure a storm than those that have all taken away to the + very skin." + +'You will notice, Marsden, as I did when I first came here, that the +sheep are not so clearly shorn as in the south. They have a rough, +almost untidy look; but perhaps the keener climate necessitates it. An +old proverb says:-- + + "The man that is about to clip his sheepe + Must pray for two faire dayes and one faire weeke."' + +'That needs translation, Dr. Heriot. Chriss looks puzzled.' + +'I must annotate Best, then. And here Michael Sowerby is my informant. +Don't you see, farmers like a fine day beforehand, that the wool may be +dry--the day he clips, and the ensuing week--that the sheep may be +hardened, and their wool somewhat grown before a storm comes.' + +'They shear earlier in the south,' observed Hugh. He was curiously +interested in the whole thing. + +'According to Best it used to be here in the middle of June, but it is +rarely earlier than the end of June or beginning of July. There is an +old saying, and a very quaint one, that you should not clip your sheep +till you see the "grasshopper sweat," and it depends on the nature of +the season--whether early or late--when this phenomenon appears in the +pastures.' + +'I see no sort of information comes amiss to Dr. Heriot,' was Hugh's +admiring aside to Olive. + +Olive smiled, and nodded. The conversation had not particularly +interested her, but she liked this idle lingering in the shade; the +ivied walls and gateway, and the small blue-black cattle, with the +peacock strutting in the sun, made up a pretty picture. She followed +almost reluctantly, when Dr. Heriot stretched himself, and called to his +mare, who was feeding beside them, and then led the way to the +sheep-pens. Here there was blazing sunshine again, hoarse voices and +laughing, and the incessant bleating of sheep, and all the bustle +attendant on a clipping. + +Mr. Colby came forward to meet them, with warm welcome. He was a tall, +erect man, with a pleasant, weatherbeaten face, and a voice with the +regular Westmorland accent. Hugh, as the newcomer, was treated with +marked attention, and regret was at once manifested that he should only +witness such a very poor affair. + +But Hugh Marsden, who had been bred in towns, thought it a very novel +and amusing sight. There were ten or twelve clippers at work, each +having his stool or creel, his pair of shears, and a small cord to bind +the feet of the victims. + +The patient creatures lay helplessly under the hands that were so +skilfully denuding them of their fleece. Sometimes there was a +struggling mass of wool, but in most instances there was no resistance, +and it was impossible to help admiring the skill and rapidity of some of +the clippers. + +The flock was penned close at hand; boys caught them when wanted, and +brought them to the clippers, received them when shorn, and took them to +the markers, who also applied the tar to the wounded. + +In the distance the lambs were being dipped, and filled the air with +their distressful bleatings, refusing to recognise in the shorn, +miserable creatures that advanced to meet them the comfortable fleecy +parents they had left an hour ago. + +Olive watched the heartrending spectacle till her heart grew pitiful. +The poor sheep themselves were baffled by the noxious sulphur with which +the fleece of the lambs were dripping. In the pasture there was +confusion, a mass of white shivering bodies, now and then ecstasies, +recognition, content. To her the whole thing was a living poem--the +innocent faces, the unrest, the plaintive misery, were intact with +higher meanings. + +'This miserable little lamb, dirty and woebegone, cannot find its +mother,' she thought to herself. 'It is even braving the terrors of the +crowded yard to find her; even with these dumb, unreasoning creatures, +love casteth out fear.' + +'Mr. Colby has been telling us such a curious thing,' said Hugh, coming +to her side, and speaking with his usual loud-voiced animation. 'He says +that in the good old times the Fell clergy always attended these +clippings, and acted the part of "doctor;" I mean applied the tar to the +wounded sheep.' + +'Colby has rather a racy anecdote on that subject,' observed Dr. Heriot, +overhearing him. 'Let's have it, Michael, while your wife's tea is +brewing. By the bye, I have not tasted your "clipping ale" yet.' + +'All right, doctor, it is to the fore. If the story you mean concerns +the election of a minister, I think I remember it.' + +'Of course you do; two of the electors were discussing the merits of the +rival candidates, one of whom had preached his trial sermon that day.' + +Michael Colby rubbed his head thoughtfully. + +'Ay, ay; now I mind.' + +'"Ay," says one, "a varra good sarmon, John; I think he'll du."' + +'"Du," says John; "ay, fer a Sunday priest, I'll grant ye, he's aw weel +enugh; byt fer clippens en kirsnens toder 'ill bang him aw't nowt."' + +Mildred was no longer able to conceal that her head ached severely, and, +at a whispered request from Polly, Dr. Heriot led the way to the +farmhouse. + +Strangers, seeing Wharton Hall for the first time, are always struck by +the beauty of the old gateway, mantled in ivy, through which is the trim +flower-bordered inclosure, with its comfortable dwelling-house and low, +long dairy, and its picturesque remnant of ruins, the whole forming +three sides of a quadrangle. + +Wharton Hall itself was built by Thomas Lord Wharton about the middle of +the sixteenth century, and is a good specimen of a house of the period. +Part of it is now in ruins, a portion of it occupied as a farmhouse. + +Mrs. Colby, a trim, natty-looking little body, was bustling about the +great kitchen with her maids. Tea was not quite ready, and there was a +short interval of waiting, in a long, narrow room upstairs, with a great +window, looking over the dairy and garden, and the beautiful old +gateway. + +'I call this my ideal of a farmhouse!' cried Hugh enthusiastically, as +they went down the old crazy staircase, having peeped into a great empty +room, which Polly whispered would make a glorious ballroom. + +The sunshine was streaming into the great kitchen through the narrow +windows. July as it was, a bright fire burnt in the huge fireplace; the +little round table literally groaned under the dainties with which it +was spread; steel forks and delicate old silver spoons lay side by side, +the great clock ticked, the red-armed maids went clattering through the +flagged passages and dairies, a brood of little yellow chickens clucked +and pecked outside in the dust. + +'What a picture it all is,' said Olive; and Dr. Heriot laughed. The +white dresses and the girls' fresh faces made up the principal part of +the picture to him. The grand old kitchen, the sunshine, and the gateway +outside were only the background, the accessories of the whole. + +Polly wore a breast-knot of pale pinky roses; she had laid aside her +broad-brimmed hat; as she moved hither and thither in her trailing +dress, with her short, almost boyishly-cropped hair, she looked so +graceful and piquante that Dr. Heriot's eyes followed her everywhere +with unconscious pleasure. + +Polly was more than eighteen now, but her hair had never grown +properly--it was still tucked behind the pretty little ears, and the +smooth glossy head still felt like the down of an unfledged bird; 'there +was something uncommon about Polly Ellison's style,' as people said, and +as Mildred sometimes observed to Dr. Heriot--'Polly is certainly growing +very pretty.' + +He thought so now as he watched the delicate, high-bred face, the cheeks +as softly tinted as the roses she wore. Polly's gentle fun always made +her the life of the party; she was busily putting in the sugar with the +old-fashioned tongs--she carried the cups to Dr. Heriot and Hugh with +saucy little speeches. + +How well Mildred remembered that evening afterwards. Dr. Heriot had +placed her in the old rocking-chair beside the open window, and had +thrown himself down on the settle beside her. Chriss, who was a regular +salamander, had betaken herself to the farmer's great elbow-chair; the +other girls and Hugh had gathered round the little table; the sunshine +fell full on Hugh's beaming face and Olive's thoughtful profile; how +peaceful and bright it all was, she thought, in spite of her aching +head; the girlish laughter pealed through the room, the sparrows and +martins chirped from the ivy, the sheep bleating sounded musically from +the distance. + +'It is an ill wind that blows no one any good,' laughed Dr. Heriot; 'my +mare's lameness has given me an excuse for idleness. Look at that fellow +Marsden; it puts one into a good temper only to look at him; he reminds +one of a moorland breeze, so healthy and so exuberant.' + +'We are going to see the dairy!' cried Polly, springing up; 'Chriss and +I and Mr. Marsden. Olive is too lazy to come.' + +'No, I am only tired,' returned Olive, a little weary of the mirth and +longing for quiet. + +When the others had gone she stole up the crazy stairs and stood for a +long time in the great window looking at the old gateway. They all +wondered where she was, when Hugh found her and brought her down, and +they walked home through the gray glimmering fields. + +'I wonder of what you were thinking when I came in and startled you?' +asked Hugh presently. + +'I don't know--at least I cannot tell you,' returned Olive, blushing in +the dusky light. Could she tell any one the wonderful thoughts that +sometimes came to her at such hours; would he understand it if she +could? + +The young man looked disconcerted--almost hurt. + +'You think I should not understand,' he returned, a little piqued, in +spite of his sweet temper; 'you have never forgiven me my scepticism +with regard to poetry. I thought you did not bear malice, Miss Olive.' + +'Neither do I,' she returned, distressed. 'I was only sorry for you +then, and I am sorry now you miss so much; poetry is like music, you +know, and seems to harmonise and go with everything.' + +'Nature has made me prosaic and stupid, I suppose,' returned Hugh, +almost sorrowfully. He did not like to be told that he could not +understand; he had a curious notion that he would like to know the +thoughts that had made her eyes so soft and shining; it seemed strange +to him that any girl should dwell so apart in a world of her own. 'How +you must despise me,' he said at last, with a touch of bitterness, 'for +being what I am.' + +'Hush, Mr. Marsden, how can you talk so?' returned Olive in a voice of +rebuke. + +The idea shocked her. What were her beautiful thoughts compared to his +deeds--her dreamy, contemplative life contrasted with his intense +working energies? As she looked up at the great broad-shouldered young +fellow striding beside her, with swinging arms and great voice, and +simple boyish face, it came upon her that perhaps his was the very +essence of poetry, the entire harmony of mind and will with the work +that was planned for him. + +'Oh, Mr. Marsden, you must never say that again,' she said earnestly, so +that Hugh was mollified. + +And then, as was often the case with the foolish-fond fellow, when he +could get a listener, he descanted eagerly about his little Croydon +house and his mother and sisters. Olive was always ready to hear what +interested people; she thought Hugh was not without a certain homely +poetry as she listened--perhaps the moonlight, the glimmering fields, or +Olive's soft sympathy inspired him; but he made her see it all. + +The little old house, with its faded carpet and hangings, and its +cupboards of blue dragon-china--'bogie-china' as they had called it in +their childhood--the old-fashioned country town, the gray old +almshouses, Church Street, steep and winding, and the old church with +its square tower, and four poplar trees--yes, she could see it all. + +Olive and Chriss even knew all about Dora and Florence and Sophy; they +had seen their photographs at least a dozen times, large, plain-featured +women, with pleasant kindly eyes, Dora especially. + +Dora was an invalid, and wrote little books for the Christian Knowledge +Society, and Florence and Sophy gave lessons in the shabby little +parlour that looked out on Church Street; through the wire blinds the +sisters' little scholars looked out at the old-fashioned butcher's shop +and the adjoining jeweller's. At the back of the house there was a long +narrow garden, with great bushes of lavender and rosemary. + +The letters that came to Hugh were all fragrant with lavender, great +bunches of it decked the vases in his little parlour at Miss Farrer's; +antimacassars, knitted socks, endless pen-wipers and kettle-holders, +were fashioned for Hugh in the little back room with its narrow windows +looking over the garden, where Dora always lay on her little couch. + +'She is such a good woman--they are all such good women,' he would say, +with clumsy eloquence that went to Olive's heart; 'they are never sad +and moping, they believe the best of everybody, and work from morning +till night, and they are so good to the poor, Sophy especially.' + +'How I should like to know them,' Olive would reply simply; she believed +Hugh implicitly when he assured her that Florence was the handsomest +woman he knew; love had beautified those plain-featured women into +absolute beauty, divine kindness and goodness shone out of their eyes, +devotion and purity had transformed them. + +'That is what Dora says, she would so like to know you; they have read +your book and they think it beautiful. They say you must be so good to +have such thoughts!' cried Hugh, with sudden effusion. + +'What are you two young people talking about?' cried Dr. Heriot's voice +in the darkness. 'Polly has quarrelled with me, and Chriss is cross, and +Miss Lambert is dreadfully tired.' + +'Are you tired, Aunt Milly? Mr. Marsden has been telling me about his +sisters, and--and--I think we have had a little quarrel too.' + +'No, it was I that was cross,' returned Hugh, with his big laugh; 'it +always tries my temper when people talk in an unknown tongue.' + +Olive gave him a kind look as she bade him good-night. + +'I have enjoyed hearing about your sisters, so you must never call +yourself prosaic and stupid again, Mr. Marsden,' she said, as she +followed the others into the house. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +UNDER STENKRITH BRIDGE + + 'I never felt chill shadow in my heart + Until this sunset.'--George Eliot. + + +A few days after the Wharton Hall clipping, Mildred went down to the +station to see some friends off by the train to Penrith. A party of +bright-faced boys and girls had invaded the vicarage that day, and +Mildred, who was never happier than when surrounded by young people, had +readily acceded to their petition to walk back with them to the station. + +It was a lovely July evening, and as Mildred waved her last adieu, and +ascended the steps leading to the road, she felt tempted to linger, and, +instead of turning homewards, to direct her steps to a favourite place +they often visited--Stenkrith Bridge. + +Stenkrith Bridge lies just beyond the station, and carries the Nateby +road across the river and the South Durham railway. On either side of +the road there are picturesque glimpses of this lovely spot. Leaning +over the bridge, one can see huge fragmentary boulders, deep shining +pools, and the spray and froth of a miniature cascade. + +There is an interesting account of this place by a contemporary which is +worthy of reproduction. + +He says, 'Above the bridge the water of Eden finds its way under, +between, or over some curiously-shaped rocks, locally termed "brockram," +in which, by the action of pebbles driven round and round by the water +in times of flood, many curious holes have been formed. Just as it +reaches the bridge, the water falls a considerable depth into a +round-shaped pool or "lum," called Coop Kernan Hole: the word hole is an +unnecessary repetition. The place has its name from the fact that by the +action of the water it has been partly hollowed out between the rock; at +all events, is cup or coop-shaped, and the water which falls into it is +churned and agitated like cream in an old-fashioned churn, before +escaping through the fissures of the rocks. + +'After falling into Coop Kernan Hole, the water passes through a narrow +fissure into another pool or lum at the low side of the bridge, called +"Spandub," which has been so named because the distance of the rocks +between which the river ran, and which overshadow it, could be spanned +by the hand. + +'We doubt not that grown men and adventurous youths had many a time +stretched their hands across the narrow chasm, and remembered and talked +about it when far away from their native place; and when strangers came +to visit our town, and saw the beautiful river, on the banks of which it +stands, they would be hard to convince that half a mile higher up it was +only a span wide. But William Ketching came lusting for notoriety, +stretched out his evil hand across the narrow fissure, declared he would +be the last man to span Eden, and with his walling-hammer broke off +several inches from that part of the rock where it was most nearly +touching. "It was varra bad," says an old friend of ours who remembers +the incident; "varra bad on him; he sudn't hev done it. It was girt +curiosity to span Eden."' + +Mildred had an intense affection for this beautiful spot. It was the +scene of many a merry gipsy tea; and in the summer Olive and she often +made it their resort, taking their work or books and spending long +afternoons there. + +This evening she would enjoy it alone, 'with only pleasant thoughts for +company,' she said to herself, as she strolled contentedly down the +smooth green glade, where browsing cattle only broke the silence, and +then made her way down the bank to the river-side. + +Here she sat down, rapt for a time by the still beauty of the place. +Below her, far as she could see, lay the huge gray and white stones +through which the water worked its channel. Low trees and shrubs grew in +picturesque confusion--dark lichen-covered rocks towered, jagged and +massive, on either side of the narrow chasm. Through the arch of the +bridge one saw a vista of violet-blue sky and green foliage. The rush of +the water into Coop Kernan Hole filled the ear with soft incessant +sound. Some one beside Mildred seemed rooted to the spot. + +'This is a favourite place with you, I know,' said a voice in her ear; +and Mildred, roused from her dreams, started, and turned round, blushing +with the sudden surprise. + +'Dr. Heriot, how could you? You have startled me dreadfully!' + +'Did you not see me coming?' he returned, jumping lightly from one rock +to the other, and settling himself comfortably a little below her. 'I +saw you at the station and followed you here. Do I intrude on pleasanter +thoughts?' he continued, giving her the benefit of one of his keen, +quiet glances. + +'No; oh no,' stammered Mildred. All at once she felt ill at ease. The +situation was novel--unexpected. She had often encountered Dr. Heriot in +her walks and drives, but he had never so frankly sought her out as on +this evening. His manner was the same as usual--friendly, +self-possessed--but for the first time in her life Mildred was tormented +with a painful self-consciousness. Her slight confusion was unnoticed, +however, for Dr. Heriot went on in the same cool, well-assured voice-- + +'You are such a comfortable person, Miss Lambert, one can always depend +on hearing the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth from +you. I confess I should have been grievously disappointed if you had +sent me about my own business.' + +'Am I given to dismiss you in such a churlish manner, Dr. Heriot?' +returned Mildred, with a little nervous laugh; but she only thought, +'How strange of him to follow me here!' + +'You are the soul of courtesy itself; you have a benevolent forehead, +Miss Lambert. "Entertainment for Pilgrims" ought to be bound round it as +a sort of phylactery. Why are women so much more unselfish than men, I +wonder?' + +'They need something to compensate them for their weakness,' she +returned, softly. + +'Their weakness is strength sometimes, and masters our brute force. I am +in the mood for moralising, you see. Last Sunday evening I was reading +my _Pilgrim's Progress_. I have retained my old childish penchant for +it. Apollyon with his darts was my favourite nightmare for years. When I +came to the part about Charity and the Palace Beautiful, I thought of +you.' + +Mildred raised her eyes in surprise, and again the sensitive colour rose +to her face. Dr. Heriot was given to moralising, she knew, but it was a +little forced this evening. In spite of his coolness a suppressed +excitement bordered the edge of his words; he looked like a man on the +brink of a resolution. + +'The damsel Discretion would suit me better,' she said at last, with +assumed lightness. + +'Yes, Discretion is your handmaid, but my name fits you more truly,' he +returned, with a kind look which somehow made her heart beat faster. +'Your sympathy offers such a soft pillow for sore hearts, and aches and +troubles--have you a ward for incurables, as well as for the sick and +maimed waifs and strays of humanity, I wonder?' + +'Dr. Heriot, what possesses you this evening?' returned Mildred, with +troubled looks. How strangely he was talking!--was he in fun or earnest? +Ought she to stay there and listen to him, or should she gently hint to +him the expediency of returning home? A dim instinct warned her that +this hour might be fraught with perilous pleasure; a movement would +break its spell. She rose hastily. + +'You are not going?' he exclaimed, raising himself in some surprise; 'it +is still early. This is an ungrateful return for the compliment I have +just paid you. I am certain it is Discretion now, and not Charity, that +speaks.' + +'They will be expecting me,' she returned. Dr. Heriot had risen to his +feet, and now stretched out his hand to detain her. + +'They do not want you,' he said, with a persuasive smile; 'they can +exist an hour without Aunt Milly. Sit down again, Charity, I entreat +you, for I have followed you here to ask your advice. I really need it,' +he continued, seriously, as Mildred still hesitated; but a glance at the +grave, kind face decided her. 'Perhaps, after all, he had some trouble, +and she might help him. It could be no harm; it was only too pleasant to +be sitting there monopolising his looks and words, usually shared with +others. The opportunity might never occur again. She would stop and hear +all that he had to say. Was he not her brother's friend, and hers also?' + +Dr. Heriot seemed in no hurry to explain himself; he sat throwing +pebbles absently into the watery fissures at their feet, while Mildred +watched him with some anxiety. Time had dealt very gently with Dr. +Heriot; he looked still young, in the prime of life. A close observer +might notice that the closely-cropped hair was sprinkled with gray, but +the lines that trouble had drawn were almost effaced by the kindly hand +of time. There was still a melancholy shade in the eyes, an occasional +dash of bitterness in the kind voice, but the trouble lay far back and +hidden; and it could not be denied that Dr. Heriot was visibly happier +than he had been three years ago. Yes, it was true, sympathy bad +smoothed out many a furrow; kindly fellowship and close intimacy had +brightened the life of the lonely man; little discrepancies and angles +had vanished under beneficent treatment. The young fresh lives around +him, with their passionate interests, their single-eyed pursuits, lent +him new interests, and fostered that superabundant benevolence; and Hope +and its twin-sister Desire bloomed by the side of his desolate hearth. + +Dr. Heriot had ever told himself that passion was dead within him, slain +by that deadly disgust and terror of years. 'A man cannot love twice as +I loved Margaret,' he had said to his friend more than once; and the two +men, drawn together by a loss so similar, and yet so diverse, had owned +that in their case, and with their faithful tenacity, no second love +could be possible. + +'But you are a comparatively young man; you are in the very prime of +life, Heriot; you ought to marry,' his friend had said to him once. + +'I do not care to marry for friendship and companionship,' he had +answered. 'My wife must be everything or nothing to me. I must love with +passion or not at all.' And there had risen up before his mind the +dreary spectacle of a degraded beauty that he once had worshipped, and +which had power to charm him to the very last. + +It was three years since Dr. Heriot had uttered his bitter protest +against matrimony, and since then there had grown up in his heart a +certain sweet fancy, which had emanated first out of pure benevolence, +but which, while he cherished and fostered it, had grown very dear to +him. + +He was thinking of it now, as the pebbles splashed harmlessly in the +narrow rivulets, while Mildred watched him, and thought with curious +incongruity of the dark, sunless pool lying behind the gray rocks, and +of the wild churning and seething of foamy waters which seemed to deaden +their voices; would he ever speak, she wondered. She sat with folded +hands, and a soft, perplexed smile on her face, as she waited, listening +to the dreamy rush of the water. + +He roused himself at last in earnest. + +'How good you are to me, Miss Lambert. After all, I have no right to tax +your forbearance.' + +'All friends have a right,' was the low answer. + +'All friends, yes. I wonder what any very special friend dare claim from +you? I could fancy your goodness without stint or limit then; it would +bear comparison with the deep waters of Coop Kernan Hole itself.' + +'Then you flatter me;' but she blushed, yes, to her sorrow, as Mildred +rarely blushed. + +'You see I am disposed to shelter myself beside it. Miss Lambert, I need +not ask you--you know my trouble.' + +'Your trouble? Oh yes; Arnold told me.' + +'And you are sorry for me?' + +'More than I can say,' and Mildred's voice trembled a little, and the +tears came to her eyes. With a sort of impulse she stretched out her +hand to him--that beautiful woman's hand he had so often admired. + +'Thank you,' he returned, gratefully, and holding it in his. 'Miss +Lambert, I feel you are my friend; that I dare speak to you. Will you +give me your advice to-night, as though--as though you were my sister?' + +'Can you doubt it?' in a voice so low that it was almost inaudible. A +slight, almost imperceptible shiver passed over her frame, but her mild +glance still rested on his averted face; some subtle sadness that was +not pain seemed creeping over her; somewhere there seemed a void opened, +an empty space, filled with a dying light. Mildred never knew what ailed +her at that moment, only, as she sat there with her hands once more +folded in her lap, she thought again of the dark, sunless pool lying +behind the gray rocks, and of the grewsome cavern, where the churned and +seething waters worked their way to the light. + +Somewhere from the distance Dr. Heriot's voice seemed to rouse her. + +'You are so good and true yourself, that you inspire confidence. A man +dare trust you with his dearest secret, and yet feel no dread of +betrayal; you are so gentle and so unselfish, that others lay their +burdens at your feet.' + +'No, no--please don't praise me. I have done nothing--nothing--that any +other woman would not have done,' returned Mildred, in a constrained +tone. She shrank from this praise. Somehow it wounded her sensibility. +He must talk of his trouble and not her, and then, perhaps, she would +grow calm again, more like the wise, self-controlled Mildred he thought +her. + +'I only want to justify the impulse that bade me follow you just now,' +he returned, with gentle gravity. 'You shall not lose the fruit of your +humility through me, Miss Lambert. I am glad you know my sad story, it +makes my task an easier one.' + +'You must have suffered greatly, Dr. Heriot.' + +'Ah, have I not?' catching his breath quickly. 'You do not know, how can +you, how a man of my nature loves the woman he has made his wife.' + +'She must have been very beautiful.' The words escaped from Mildred +before she was aware. + +'Beautiful,' he returned, in a tone of gloomy triumph. 'I never saw a +face like hers, never; but it was not her beauty only that I loved; it +was herself--her real self--as she was to others, never to me. You may +judge the power of her fascination, when I tell you that I loved her to +the last in spite of all--ay, in spite of all--and though she murdered +my happiness. Oh, the heaven our home might have been, if our boy had +lived,' speaking more to himself than to her, but her calm voice +recalled him. + +'Time heals even these terrible wounds.' + +'Yes, time and the kindness of friends. I was not ungrateful, even in my +loneliness. Since Margaret died, I have been thankful for moderate +blessings, but now they cease to content me: in spite of my resolve +never to call another woman my wife, I am growing strangely restless and +lonely.' + +'You have thought of some one; you want my advice, my assistance, +perhaps.' Would those churning waters never be still? A fine trembling +passed through the folded fingers, but the sweet, quiet tones did not +falter. Were there two Mildreds, one suffering a new, unknown pain; the +other sitting quietly on a gray boulder, with the water lapping to her +very feet. + +'Yes, I have thought of some one,' was the steady answer. 'I have +thought of my ward.' + +'Polly!' Ah, surely those seething waters must burst their bounds now, +and overwhelm them with a noisy flood. Was she dreaming? Did she hear +him aright? + +'Yes, Polly--my bright-faced Polly. Miss Lambert, you must not grow pale +over it; I am not robbing Aunt Milly of one of her children. Polly +belongs to me.' + +'As thy days so shall thy strength be;' the words seemed to echo in her +heart. Mildred could make nothing of the pain that had suddenly seized +on her; some unerring instinct warned her to defer inquiry. Aunt +Milly!--yes, she was only Aunt Milly, and nothing else. + +'You are right; Polly belongs to you,' she said, looking at him with +wistful eyes, out of which the tender, shining light seemed somehow +faded, 'but you must not sacrifice yourself for all that,' she +continued, with the old-fashioned wisdom he had ever found in her. + +'There you wrong me; it will be no sacrifice,' he returned, eagerly. +'Year by year Polly has been growing very dear to me. I have watched her +closely; you could not find a sweeter nature anywhere.' + +'She is worthy of a good man's love,' returned Mildred, in the same +calm, impassive tone. + +'You are so patient that I must not stint my confidence!' he exclaimed. +'I must tell you that for the last two years this thought has been +growing up in my heart, at first with reluctant anxiety, but lately with +increasing delight. I love Polly very dearly, Miss Lambert; all the +more, that she is so dependent on me.' + +Mildred did not answer, but evidently Dr. Heriot found her silence +sympathetic, for he went on in the same absorbed tone-- + +'I do not deny that at one time the thought gave me pain, and that I +doubted my ability to carry out my plan, but now it is different. I love +her well enough to wish to be her protector; well enough to redeem her +father's trust. In making this young orphan my wife, I shall console +myself; my conscience and my heart will be alike satisfied.' + +'She is very young,' began Mildred, but he interrupted her a little +sadly. + +'That is my only remaining difficulty--she is so young. The discrepancy +in our ages is so apparent. I sometimes doubt whether I am right in +asking her to sacrifice herself.' + +A strange smile passed over Mildred's face. 'Are you sure she will +regard it in that light, Dr. Heriot?' + +'What do you think?' he returned, eagerly. 'It is there I want your +advice. I am not disinterested. I fear my own selfishness, my hearth is +so lonely. Think how this young girl, with her sweet looks and words, +will brighten it. Dare I venture it? Is Polly to be won?' + +'She is too young to have formed another attachment,' mused Mildred. 'As +far as I know, she is absolutely free; but I cannot tell, it is not +always easy to read girls.' A fleeting thought of Roy, and a probable +childish entanglement, passed through Mildred's mind as she spoke, but +the next moment it was dismissed as absurd. They were on excellent +terms, it was true, but Polly's frank, sisterly affection was too openly +expressed to excite suspicion, while Roy's flirtations were known to be +legion. A perfectly bewildering number of Christian names were carefully +entered in Polly's pocket-book, annotated by Roy himself. Polly was +cognisant of all his love affairs, and alternately coaxed and scolded +him out of his secrets. + +'And you think she could be induced to care for her old guardian?' asked +Dr. Heriot, and there was no mistaking the real anxiety of his tone. + +'Why do you call yourself old?' returned Mildred, almost brusquely. 'If +Polly be fond of you, she will not find fault with your years. Most men +do not call themselves old at eight-and-thirty.' + +'But I have not led the life of most men,' was the sorrowful reply. +'Sometimes I fear a bright young girl will be no mate for my sadness.' + +'It has not turned you into a misanthrope; you must not be discouraged, +Dr. Heriot; trouble has made you faint-hearted. The best of your life +lies before you, you may be sure of that.' + +'You know how to comfort, Miss Lambert. You lull fears to sleep so +sweetly that they never wake again. You will wish me success, then?' + +'Yes, I will wish you success,' she returned, with a strange melancholy +in her voice. Was it for her to tell him that he was deceiving himself; +that benevolence and fancy were painting for him a future that could +never be verified? + +He would take this young girl into the shelter of his honest heart, but +would he satisfy her, would he satisfy himself? + +Would his hearth be always warm and bright when she bloomed so sweetly +beside it; would her innocent affection content this man, with his deep, +passionate nature, and yearning heart; would there be no void that her +girlish intellect could not fill? + +Alas! she knew him too well to lay such flattering unction to her soul; +and she knew Polly too. Polly would be no child-wife, to be fed with +caresses. Her healthy woman's nature would crave her husband's +confidence without stint and limit; there must be response to her +affection, an answer to every appeal. + +'I will wish you success,' she had said to him, and he had not detected +the sadness of her tone, only as he turned to thank her she had risen +quickly to her feet. + +'Is it so late? I ought not to have kept you so long,' he exclaimed, as +he followed her. + +'Yes, the sun has set,' returned Mildred hurriedly; but as they walked +along side by side she suddenly hesitated and stopped. She had an odd +fancy, she told him, but she wanted to see the dark pool on the other +side of the gray rock, Coop Kernan Hole she thought they called it, for +through all their talk it had somehow haunted her. + +'If you will promise me not to go too near,' he had answered, 'for the +boulders are apt to be slippery at times.' + +And Mildred had promised. + +He was a little surprised when she refused all assistance and clambered +lightly from one huge boulder to another, and still more at her quiet +intensity of gaze into the black sullen pool. It was so unlike +Mildred--cheerful Mildred--to care about such places. + +The sunset had quite died away, but some angry, lurid clouds still +lingered westward; the air was heavy and oppressed, no breeze stirred +the birches and aspens; below them lay Coop Kernan Hole, black and +fathomless, above them the pent-up water leaped over the rocks with +white resistless force. + +'We shall have a storm directly; this place looks weird and uncanny +to-night; let us go.' + +'Yes, let us go,' returned Mildred, with a slight shiver. 'What is there +to wait for?' What indeed? + +She did not now refuse the assistance that Dr. Heriot offered her; her +energy was spent, she looked white and somewhat weary when they reached +the little gate. Dr. Heriot noticed it. + +'You look as if you had seen a ghost. I shall not bring you to this +place again in the gloaming,' he said lightly; and Mildred had laughed +too. + +What had she seen? + +Only a sunless pool, with night closing over it; only gray rocks, washed +evermore with a foaming torrent; only a yawning chasm, through which +churning waters seethed and worked their way, where a dying light could +not enter; and above thunder-clouds, black with an approaching storm. + +'Yes, I shall come again; not now, not for a long time, and you shall +bring me,' she had answered him, with a smile so sweet and singular that +it had haunted him. + +True prophetic words, but little did Mildred know when and how she would +stand beside Coop Kernan Hole again. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +DR. HERIOT'S WARD + + 'I can pray with pureness + For her welfare now-- + Since the yearning waters + Bravely were pent in. + God--He saw me cover, + With a careless brow, + Signs that might have told her + Of the work within.'--Philip Stanhope Worsley. + +The pretty shaded lamps were lighted in the drawing-room; a large gray +moth had flown in through the open windows and brushed round them in +giddy circles. Polly was singing a little plaintive French air, Roy's +favourite. _Tra-la-la, Qui va la_, it went on, with odd little trills +and drawn-out chords. Olive's book had dropped to her lap, one long +braid of hair had fallen over her hot cheek. Mildred's entrance had +broken the thread of some quiet dream,--she uttered an exclamation and +Polly's music stopped. + +'Dear Aunt Milly, how late you are, and how tired you look!' + +'Yes, I am tired, children. I have been to Stenkrith, and Dr. Heriot +found me, and we have had a long talk. I think I have missed my tea, +and----' + +'Aunt Milly, you look dreadful,' broke in Polly, impulsively; 'you must +sit there,' pushing her with gentle force into the low chair, 'and I +shall go and bring you some tea, and you are not to talk.' + +Mildred was only too thankful to submit; she leant back wearily upon the +cushions Polly's thoughtfulness had provided, with an odd feeling of +thankfulness and unrest;--how good her girls were to her. She watched +Polly coming across the room, slim and tall, carrying the little +tea-tray, her long dress flowing out behind her with gentle undulating +movement. The lamplight shone on the purple cup, and the softly-tinted +peach lying beside it, placed there by Polly's soft little fingers; she +carried a little filagree-basket, a mere toy of a thing, heaped up with +queen's cakes; a large creamy rose detached itself from her dress and +fell on Mildred's lap. + +'This is the second time you have shivered, and yet your hands are +warm--oh, so warm,' said the girl anxiously, as she hung over her. + +Mildred smiled and roused herself, and tried to do justice to the little +feast. + +'They had all had a busy day,' she said with a yawn, and stretching +herself. + +The vicarage had been a Babel since early morning, with all those noisy +tongues. Yes, the tea had refreshed her, but her head still ached, and +she thought it would be wiser to go to bed. + +'Please do go, Aunt Milly,' Olive had chimed in, and when she had bidden +them good-night, she heard Polly's flute-like voice bursting into +_Tra-la-la_ again as she closed the door; _Qui va la_ she hummed to +herself as she crept wearily along. + +The storm had broken some miles below them, and only harmless summer +lightning played on the ragged edges of the clouds as they gleamed +fitfully, now here, now there; there were sudden glimpses of dark hills +and a gray, still river, with some cattle grouped under the bridge, and +then darkness. + +'How strange to shiver in such heat,' thought Mildred, as she sat down +by the open window. She scarcely knew why she sat there--'Only for a few +minutes just to think it all out,' she said to herself, as she pressed +her aching forehead between her hands; but hours passed and still she +did not move. + +Years afterwards Mildred was once asked which was the bitterest hour of +her life, and she had grown suddenly pale and the answer had died away +on her lips; the remembrance of this night had power to chill her even +then. + +A singular conflict was raging in Mildred's gentle bosom, passions +hitherto unknown stirred and agitated it; the poor soul, dragged before +the tribunal of inexorable womanhood, had pleaded guilty to a crime that +was yet no crime--the sin of having loved unsought. + +Unconsciousness could shield her no longer, the beneficent cloak of +friendship could not cover her; mutual sympathy, the united strength of +goodness and intellect, her own pitying woman's heart, had wrought the +mischief under which she was now writhing with an intolerable sense of +terror and shame. + +And how intolerable can only be known by any pure-minded woman under the +same circumstances! It would not be too much to say that Mildred +absolutely cowered under it; tranquillity was broken up; the brain, calm +and reasonable no longer, grew feverish with the effort to piece +together tormenting fragments of recollection. + +Had she betrayed herself? How had she sinned if she had so sinned? What +had she done that the agony of this humiliation had come upon her--she +who had thought of others, never of herself? + +Was this the secret of her false peace? was her life indeed robbed of +its sweetest illusion--she who had hoped for nothing, expected nothing? +would she now go softly all her days as one who had lost her chief good? + +And yet what had she desired--but to keep him as her friend? was not +this the sum and head of her offending? + +'Oh, God, Thou knowest my integrity!' she cried from the depths of her +suffering soul. + +Alas! was it her fault that she loved him? was it only her fancy that +some sympathy, subtle but profound, united them? was it not he who +deceived himself? Ah, there was the stab. She knew now that she was +nothing to him and he was everything to her. + +Her very unconsciousness had prepared this snare for her. She had called +him her friend, but it had come to this, that his step was as music in +her ear, and the sunshine of his presence had glorified her days. How +she had looked for his coming, with what quiet welcoming smiles she had +received her friend; his silence had been as sweet to her as his words; +the very seat where he sat, the very reels of cotton on her little +work-table with which he had played, were as sacred as relics in her +eyes. + +How she had leant on his counsel; his yea was yea to her, and his nay, +nay. How wise and gentle he had ever been with her; once she had been +ill, and the tenderness of his sympathy had made her almost love her +illness. 'You must get well; we cannot spare you,' he had said to her, +and she had thanked him with her sweetest smiles. + +How happy they had been in those days: the thought of any change had +terrified her; sometimes she had imagined herself twenty years older, +but Mildred Lambert still, with a gray-haired friend coming quietly +across in the dusk to sit with her and Arnold when all the young ones +were gone--her friend, always her friend! + +How pitiable had been her self-deception; she must have loved him even +then. The thought of Margaret's husband marrying another woman, and that +woman the girl that she had cherished as her own daughter, tormented her +with a sense of impossibility and pain. Good heavens, what if he +deceived himself! What if for the second time in his life he worked out +his own disappointment, passion and benevolence leading him equally +astray. + +Sadness indescribable and profound steeped the soul of this noble woman; +pitiful efforts after prayer, wild searching for light, for her lost +calmness, for mental resolve and strength, broke the silence of her +anguish; but such a struggle could not long continue in one so meek, so +ordinarily self-controlled; then came the blessed relief of tears; then, +falling on her knees and bowed to the very dust, the poor creature +invoked the presence of the Great Sufferer, and laid the burden of her +sorrow on the broken heart of her Lord. + +One who loved Mildred found, long afterwards, a few lines copied from +some book, and marked with a red marginal line, with the date of this +night affixed:-- + + 'So out in the night on the wide, wild sea, + When the wind was beating drearily, + And the waters were moaning wearily, + I met with Him who had died for me.' + +Had she met with Him? 'Had the wounded Hand touched hers in the dark?' +Who knows? + +The lightnings ceased to play along the edges of the cloud, the moon +rose, the long shadows projected from the hills, the sound of cattle +hoofs came crisply up the dry channel of the beck, and still Mildred +knelt on, with her head buried on her outstretched arms. 'I will not go +unless Thou bless me'--was that her prayer? + +Not in words, perhaps; but as the day broke, with faint gleams and tints +of ever-broadening glory, Mildred rose from her knees, and looked over +the hills with sad, steadfast eyes. + +The conflict had ceased, the conqueror was only a woman--a woman no +longer young, with pale cheeks, with faded, weary eyes--but never did +braver hands gird on the cross that must henceforth be carried +unflinchingly. + +'Mine be the pain, and his the happiness,' she whispered. Her knees were +trembling under her with weakness, she looked wan and bloodless, but her +soul was free at last. 'I am innocent; I have done no wrong. God is my +witness!' she cried in her inmost heart. 'I shall fear to look no man in +the face. God bless him--God bless them both! He is still my friend, for +I have done nothing to forfeit his friendship. God will take care of me. +I have duty, work, blessings innumerable, and a future heaven when this +long weariness is done.' + +And again: 'He will never know it. He will never know that yesterday, as +I stood by his side, I longed to be lying at the bottom of the dark, +sunless pool. It was a wicked wish--God forgive me for it. I saw him +look at me once, and there was surprise in his eyes, and then he +stretched out his kind hand and led me away.' + +And then once more: 'There is no trouble unendurable but sin, and I +thank my God that the shame and the terror has passed, and left me, weak +indeed, but innocent as a little child. If I had known--but no, His Hand +has been with me through it all. I am not afraid; I have not betrayed +myself; I can bear what God has willed.' + +She had planned it all out. There must be no faltering, no flinching; +not a moment must be unoccupied. Work must be found, new interests +sought after, heart-sickness subdued by labour and fatigue; there was +only idleness to be dreaded, so she told herself. + +It has been often said by cynical writers that women are better actors +than men; that they will at times play out a part in the dreary farce of +life that is quite foreign to their real character, dressing their face +with smiles while their heart is still sore within them. + +But Mildred was not one of these; she had been taught in no ordinary +school of adversity. In the dimness of that seven years' seclusion she +had learnt lessons of fortitude and endurance that would have baffled +the patience of weaker women. Flesh and blood might shrink from the +unequal combat, but her courage would not fail; her strength, fed from +the highest sources, would still be found sufficient. + +Henceforth for Mildred Lambert there should shine the light of a day +that was not 'clear nor dark;' she knew that for her no dazzling sunrise +of requited love should flood her woman's kingdom with brightness; +happiness must be replaced by duty, by the quiet contentment of a heart +'at leisure from itself.' + +'There is no trouble unendurable but sin,' she had said to herself. Oh, +that other poor sufferers--sufferers in heart, in this world's good +things--would lay this truth to their souls! It would rob sorrow of its +sting, it would lift the deadly mists from the charnel-house itself. For +to the Mildreds of life religion is no Sunday garb, to be laid aside +when the week-day burdens press heaviest; no garbled mixture of +sentiment and symbolic rites, of lip-worship and heart freedom, +tolerated by 'the civilised heathenism' of the present day, for in their +heart they know that to the Christian, suffering is a privilege, not a +punishment; that from the days of Calvary 'Take up thy cross and follow +Me' is the literal command literally obeyed by the true followers of the +great Master of suffering. + +Mildred was resolved to tolerate no weakness; she dressed herself +quickly, and was down at the usual time. 'How old and faded I look,' she +thought, as she caught the reflection of herself in the glass. + +Her changed looks would excite comment, she knew, and she braced herself +to meet it with tolerable equanimity; a sleepless night could be pleaded +as an excuse for heavy eyes and swollen eyelids. Polly indeed seemed +disposed to renew her soft manipulations and girlish officiousness, but +Mildred contrived to put them aside. 'She was going down to the schools, +and after that there were the old women at the workhouse and at Nateby,' +she said, with the quiet firmness which always made Aunt Milly's decrees +unalterable. 'Her girls must take care of themselves until she +returned.' + +'Charity begins at home, Aunt Milly. I am sure Olive and I are worth a +score of old women,' grumbled Polly, who in season and out of season was +given to clatter after Mildred in her little high-heeled shoes. + +Dr. Heriot's ward was becoming a decidedly fashionable young lady; the +pretty feet were set off by silver buckles, Polly's heels tapped the +floor endlessly as she tripped hither and thither; Polly's long skirts, +always crisp and rustling, her fresh dainty muslins, her toy aprons and +shining ribbons, were the themes of much harmless criticism; the little +hands were always faultlessly gloved; London-marked boxes came to her +perpetually, with Roy's saucy compliments; wonderful ruby and +cream-coloured ribbons were purchased with the young artist's scanty +savings. Nor was Dr. Heriot less mindful of the innocent vanity that +somehow added to Polly's piquancy. The little watch that ticked at her +waist, the gold chain and locket, the girlish ring with its turquoise +heart, were all the gifts of the kind guardian and friend. + +Dr. Heriot's bounty was unfailing. The newest books found their way to +Olive's and Mildred's little work-tables; Chriss was made happy by +additions to her menagerie of pets; a gray parrot, a Skye terrier whose +shaggy coat swept the ground, even pink-eyed rabbits found their way to +the vicarage; the grand silk dresses that Dr. Heriot had sent down on +Polly's last birthday for her and Olive were nothing in Chriss's eyes +compared to Fritter-my-wig, who could smoke, draw corks, bark like a +dog, and reduce Veteran Rag to desperation by a vision of concealed cats +on the stable wall. Chriss's oddities were not disappearing with her +years--indeed she was still the same captious little person as of old; +with her bright eyes and tawny-coloured mane she was decidedly +picturesque, though stooping shoulders, and the eye-glass her +short-sight required, detracted somewhat from her good looks. + +On any sunny afternoon she could be seen sitting on the low step leading +to the lawn, her parrot, Fritter-my-wig, on her shoulder, and Tatters +and Witch at her feet, and most likely a volume of Euripides on her lap. +The quaint little figure, the red-brown touzle of curls, the short +striped skirt, and gold eye-glasses, struck Roy on one of his rare +visits home; one of his most charming pictures was painted from the +recollection. 'There was an Old Woman,' it was called. Chriss objected +indignantly to the dolls that were introduced, though Roy gravely +assured her that he had adhered to Hugh's beautiful idea of the twelve +months. + +Polly had some reason for her discontent and grumbling. The weather had +changed, and heavy summer rains seemed setting in, and Mildred's plan +for her day did not savour of prudence. It suited Mildred's sombre +thoughts better than sunshine; she went upstairs almost cheerfully, and +took out a gray cloak that was Polly's favourite aversion on the score +that it reminded her of a Sister-of-Charity cloak. 'Not that I do not +love and honour Sisters,' she had added by way of excuse, 'but I should +not like you to be one, Aunt Milly,' and Mildred had hastened to assure +her that she had never felt it to be her vocation. + +She remembered Polly's speech now as she shook out the creases; the +straight, long folds, the unobtrusive colour, somehow suited her. 'I +think people who are not young ought always to dress in black or gray,' +she said to herself; 'butterfly colours are only fit for girls. I should +like nothing better than to be allowed to hide all this hair under a cap +and Quaker's bonnet.' And yet, as she said this, Mildred remembered with +a sudden pang that Dr. Heriot had once observed in her hearing that she +had beautiful hair. + +She went on bravely through the day--no work came amiss to her; after a +time she ceased even to feel fatigue. Once the crowded schoolroom would +have made her head ache after the first hour or so, but now she sat +quite passive, with the girls sewing round her, and the boys spelling +out their tasks with incessant buzz and movement. + +The old women in the workhouse did not tire her with their complaints; +she sat for a long time by the side of one old creature who was +bedridden and palsied; the idiot girl--alas! she was forty years +old--blinked at her with small dazed eyes, as she showed her the +gaily-coloured pictures she had pasted on rag for her amusement, and +followed her contentedly up and down the long whitewashed wards. + +In the cottages she was as warmly welcomed as ever; one sick child, whom +she had often visited, held out his little arms and ceased crying with +pain when he saw her. Mildred laid aside her damp cloak, and walked up +and down the flagged kitchen for a long time with the boy's head on her +shoulder; singing to him with her low sweet voice. + +'Ay, but he's terrible fond of you, poor thing!' exclaimed the mother +gratefully. She was an invalid too, and lay on a board beside the empty +fireplace, looking out of the low latticed window crowded with +flower-pots. The other children gathered round her, plucking her skirt +shyly, and listening to Mildred's cooing voice; the little fellow's blue +eyes seemed closing drowsily, one small blackened hand stole very near +Mildred's neck. + + 'There's a home for little children + Above the bright blue sky,' + +sang Mildred. + +'Ay, Jock; but, thoo lile varment, thoo'll nivver gang oop if thou +bealst like a bargeist,' whispered the woman to a white-headed urchin +beside her, who seemed disposed for a roar. + +'I cares lile--nay, I dunn't,' muttered Jock, contumaciously; to Jock's +unregenerated mind the white robes and the palms seemed less tempting +than the shouts of his little companions outside. 'There's lile Geordie +and Dawson's Sue,' he grumbled, rubbing his eyes with his dirty fists. + +'Gang thee thy ways, or I'll fetch thee a skelp wi' my stick,' returned +the poor mother, weary of the discussion, and Jock scampered off, +nothing loth. + +Mildred sang her little hymn all through as the boy's head drooped +heavily on her shoulder; as she walked up and down, her dreamy eyes had +a far-off look in them, and yet nothing escaped her notice. She saw the +long rafter over her head, with the Sunday boots and shoes neatly +arranged on it, with bunches of faint-smelling herbs hanging below them; +the adjoining door was open, the large bare room, with its round table +and bedstead, and heaped up coals on the floor, was plainly visible to +her, as well as its lonely occupant darning black stockings in the +window. + +'After all, was she as lonely,' she thought, 'as Bett Hutchinson, who +lived by herself, with only a tabby cat for company, and kept her +coal-cellar in her bedroom? and yet, though Bett had weak eyes and weak +nerves, and was clean out of her wits on the subject of the boggle +family, from the "boggle with twa heeds" down to Jock's "bargheist ahint +the yat-stoop."' + +Bett's superstition was a household word with her neighbours, 'daft Bett +and her boggles' affording a mine of entertainment to the gossips of +Nateby. Mildred, and latterly Hugh Marsden, had endeavoured to reason +Bett out of her fancies, but it was no use. 'I saw summut--nay, nay, I +saw summut,' she always persisted. 'I was a'most daft--'twas t'boggle, +and nought else,' she murmured. + +Mildred was no weak girl, to go moaning about the world because her +heart must be emptied of its chief treasure. Bett's penurious loneliness +read her a salutary lesson; her own life, saddened as it was, grew rich +by comparison. '"If in mercy Thou wilt spare joys that yet are mine,"' +she whispered, as she laid the sleeping child down in the wooden cot and +spread the patched quilt lovingly over him. + +Jock grinned at her from behind an oyster-shell and mud erection; lile +Geordie and Dawson's Sue were with him. 'Aw've just yan hawpenny left,' +she heard him say as she passed. + +Mildred had finished the hardest day's work that she had ever done in +her life, but she knew that it was not yet over. Dr. Heriot was not one +to linger over a generous impulse; 'If it is worth doing at all, one +should do it at once,' was a favourite maxim of his. + +Mildred knew well what she had to expect. She was only thankful that the +summer's dusk allowed her to slip past the long French window that +always stood open. They were lighting the lamp already--some one, +probably Olive, had asked for it. A voice, that struck Mildred cold with +a sudden anguish, railed playfully against bookworms who could not +afford a blind-man's holiday. + +'He is here; of course I knew how it would be,' she murmured, as she +groped her way a little feebly up the stairs. She would have given much +for a quiet half-hour in her room, but it was not to be; the tapping +sound she dreaded already struck upon her ear, the crisp rustle of +garments in the passage, then the faint knock and timid entrance. 'I +knew it was Polly. Come in; do you want me, my dear?' the tired voice +striving bravely after cheerfulness. + +'Aunt Milly--oh, Aunt Milly!--I thought you would never come;' and in +the dark two soft little hands clasped her tight, and a burning face hid +itself in her neck. 'Oh,' with a sort of gasp, 'I have wanted my Aunt +Milly so badly!' + +Then the noble, womanly heart opened with a great rush of tenderness, +and took in the girl who had so unconsciously become a rival. + +'What is this, my pet--not tears, surely?' for Polly had laid her head +down, and was sobbing hysterically with excitement and relief. + +'I cannot help it. I was longing all the time for papa to know; and then +it was all so strange, and I thought you would never come. I shall be +more comfortable now,' sobbed Polly, with a girlish abandon of mingled +happiness and grief. 'Directly I heard your step outside the window I +made an excuse to get away to you.' + +'I ought not to have left you--it was wrong; but, no, it could not be +helped,' returned Mildred, in a low voice. She pressed the girl to her, +and stroked the soft hair with cold, trembling fingers. 'Are those happy +tears, my pet? Hush, you must not cry any more now.' + +'They do me good. I felt as though I were some one else downstairs, not +Polly at all. Oh, Aunt Milly, can you believe it?--do you think it is +all real?' + +'What is real? You have told me nothing yet, remember. Shall I guess, +Polly? Is it a great secret--a very great secret, my darling?' + +'Aunt Milly, as though you did not know, when he told me that you and he +had had a long talk about it yesterday!' + +'He--Dr. Heriot, I suppose you mean?' + +'He says I must call him something else now,' returned the girl in a +whisper, 'but I have told him I never shall. He will always be Dr. +Heriot to me--always. I don't like his other name, Aunt Milly; no one +does.' + +'John--I think it beautiful!' with a certain sharp pain in her voice. +She remembered how he had once owned to her that no one had called him +by this name since he was a boy. He had been christened John +Heriot--John Heriot Heriot--and his wife had always called him Heriot. +'Only my mother ever called me John,' he had said in a regretful tone, +and Mildred had softly repeated the name after him. + +'It has always been my favourite name,' she had owned with that +simplicity that was natural to her; and his eyes had glistened as though +he were well-pleased. + +'It is beautiful; it reminds one of St. John. I have always liked it,' +she said a little quickly. + +'His wife called him Heriot; yes, I know, he told me--but I am so young, +and he--well, he is not exactly old, Aunt Milly, but----' + +'Do you love him, Polly?--child, do you really love him?' and for a +moment Mildred put the girl from her with a sort of impatience and +irritation of suspense. Polly's pretty face was suffused with hot +blushes when she came back to her place again. + +'He asked me that question, and I told him yes. How can one help it, and +he so good? Aunt Milly, you have no idea how kind and gentle he was when +he saw he frightened me.' + +'Frightened you, my child?' + +'The strangeness of it all, I mean. I could not understand him for a +long time. He talked quite in his old way, and yet somehow he was +different; and all at once I found out what he meant.' + +'Well?' + +'And then I got frightened, I suppose. I thought how could I satisfy +him, and he so much older and cleverer. He is so immeasurably above all +my girlish silliness, and so I could not help crying a little.' + +'Poor little Polly! but he comforted you.' + +'Oh yes,' with more blushes, 'he talked to me so beautifully that I +could not be afraid any more. He said that for years this had been in +his mind, that he had never forgotten how I had wanted to live with him +and take care of him, and how he had always called me "his sweet little +heartsease" ever since. Oh, Aunt Milly, I know he wants me. It was so +sad to hear him talk about his loneliness.' + +'You will not let him be lonely any longer. I have lost my Polly, I +see.' + +'No, no, you must not say so,' throwing her arm round her, only with a +sort of bashful pride, very new in Polly; 'he has no one to take care of +him but me.' + +'Then he shall have our Sunbeam--God bless her!' and Mildred kissed her +proudly. 'I hope you did not tell him he was old, Polly.' + +'He asked me if I thought him so, and of course I said it was only I who +was too young.' + +'And what did he say to that?' + +'He laughed, and said it was a fault that I should soon mend, but that +he meant to be very proud as well as fond of his child-wife. Do you +know, he actually thinks me pretty, Aunt Milly.' + +'He is right; you are pretty--very pretty, Polly,' she repeated, +absently. She was saying in her own heart 'Dr. Heriot's wife--John +Heriot's child-wife'--over and over again. + +'Roy never would tell me so, because he said it would make me vain. Roy +will be glad about this, will he not, Aunt Milly?' + +'I do not know; nay, I hope so, my darling.' + +'And Richard, and all of them; they are so fond of Dr. Heriot. Do you +remember how often they have joked him about Heriot's Choice?' + +'Yes, I remember.' + +A sudden spasm crossed Mildred's gentle face, but she soon controlled +herself. She must get used to these sharp pangs, these recollections of +the happy, innocent past; she had misunderstood her friend, that was +all. + +'Dear Aunt Milly, make me worthier of his love,' whispered the girl, +with tears in her eyes; 'he is so noble, my benefactor, my almost +father, and now he is going to make me his wife, and I am so young and +childish.' + +And she clung to Mildred, quivering with vague irrepressible emotion. + +'Hush, you will be his sunbeam, as you have been ours. What did he call +you--his heartsease? You must keep that name, my pet.' + +'But--but you will teach me, he thinks so much of you; he says you are +the gentlest, and the wisest, and the dearest friend he has ever had. +Where are you going, Aunt Milly?' for Mildred had gently disengaged +herself from the girl's embrace. + +'Hush, we ought to go down; you must not keep me any longer, dear Polly; +he will expect--it is my duty to see him.' + +Mildred was adjusting her hair and dress with cold, shaking fingers, +while Polly stood by and shyly helped her. + +'It does not matter how you look,' the girl had said, with innocent +unconscious sarcasm; 'you are so tired, the tumbled gray alpaca will do +for to-night.' + +'No, it does not matter how I look,' replied Mildred, calmly. + +A colourless weary face and eyes, with an odd shine and light in them, +were reflected between the dimly-burning candles. Polly stood beside her +slim and conscious; she had dried her tears, and a sweet honest blush +mantled her young cheeks. The little foot tapped half impatiently on the +floor. + +'You have no ribbons or flowers, but perhaps after all it will not be +noticed,' she said, with pardonable egotism. + +'No, he will have only eyes for you to-night. Come, Polly, I am ready;' +and as the girl turned coy and seemed disposed to linger, Mildred +quietly turned to the door. + +'I thought I was to be dismissed without your saying good-night to me,' +was Dr. Heriot's greeting as he advanced to meet them. He was holding +Mildred's cold hand tightly, but his eyes rested on Polly's downcast +face as he spoke. + +'We ought to have come before, but I knew you would understand.' + +'Yes, I understand,' he returned, with an expression of proud +tenderness. 'You will give your child to me, Miss Lambert?' + +'She has always seemed to belong to you more than to me,' and then she +looked up at him for a moment with her old beautiful smile. 'I need not +ask you to be good to her--you are good to every one; but she is so +young, little more than a child.' + +'You may trust me,' he returned, putting his arm gently round the young +girl's shoulders; 'there shall not a hair of her head suffer harm if I +can prevent it. Polly is not afraid of me, is she?' + +'No,' replied Polly, shyly; but the bright eyes lifted themselves with +difficulty. + +She looked after him with a sort of perplexed pride, half-conscious, +half-confused, as he released her and bade them all good-night. When he +was gone she hovered round Mildred in the old childish way and seemed +unwilling to leave her. + +'I have done the right thing. Bless her sweet face. I know I shall make +her happy,' thought Dr. Heriot as he walked with rapid strides across +the market-place; 'a man cannot love twice in his life as I loved my +Margaret, but the peaceful affection such as I can give my darling will +satisfy her I know. If only Philip could see into my heart to-night I +think he would be comforted for his motherless child.' And then +again--'How sweetly Mildred Lambert looked at me to-night; she is a good +woman, there are few like her. Her face reminded me of some Madonna I +have seen in a foreign gallery as she stood with the girl clinging to +her. I wonder she has never married; these ministering women lead lonely +lives sometimes. Sometimes I have fancied she knew what it is to love, +and suffered. I thought so yesterday and again to-day, there was such a +ring of sadness in her voice. Perhaps he died, but one cannot +tell--women never reveal these things.' + +And so the benevolent heart sunned itself in pleasant dreams. The future +looked fair and peaceful, no brooding complications, no murky clouds +threatened the atmosphere, passion lay dormant, rest was the chief good +to be desired. Could benevolence play him false, could affection be +misplaced, would he ever come to own to himself that delusion had +cheated him, that husks and not bread had been given him to eat, that +his honest yearning heart had again betrayed him, that a kindly impulse, +a protecting tenderness, had blinded him to his true happiness? + +'How good he is,' thought the young girl as she laid her head on the +pillow; 'how dearly I must love him: I ought to love him. I never +imagined any one could be half so gentle. I wonder if Roy will be glad +when I tell him--oh yes, I wonder if Roy will be glad?' + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +'AND MAIDENS CALL IT LOVE-IN-IDLENESS' + + 'Is there within thy heart a need + That mine cannot fulfil? + One chord that any other hand + Could better wake or still? + Speak now, lest at some future day + My whole life wither and decay.' + + Adelaide Anne Procter. + + +The news of Dr. Heriot's engagement soon spread fast; he was amused, and +Polly half frightened, by the congratulations that poured upon them. Mr. +Trelawny, restored to something like good humour by the unexpected +tidings, made surly overtures of peace, which were received on Dr. +Heriot's part with his usual urbanity. The Squire imparted the news to +his daughter after his own ungracious fashion. + +'Do you hear Heriot's gone and made a fool of himself?' he said, as he +sat facing her at table; 'he has engaged himself to that ward of his; +why, he is twenty years older than the girl if he is a day!' + +'Papa, do you know what you are saying?' expostulated Ethel; the +audacity of the statement bewildered her; she would have scorned herself +for her credulity if she had believed him. Dr. Heriot--their Dr. Heriot! +No, she would not so malign his wisdom. + +The quiet scepticism of her manner excited Mr. Trelawny's wrath. + +'You women all set such store by Heriot,' he returned, sneeringly; +'everything he did was right in your eyes; you can't believe he would be +caught like other men by a pretty face, eh?' + +'No, I cannot believe it,' she returned, still firmly. + +'Then you may go into the town and hear it for yourself,' he continued, +taking up his paper with a pretence of indifference, but his keen eyes +still watched her from beneath it. Was it only her usual obstinacy, or +was she really incredulous of his tidings? 'I had it from Davidson, who +had congratulated the Doctor himself that morning,' he continued, +sullenly; 'he said he never saw him look better in his life; the girl +was with him.' + +'But not Polly--you cannot mean Polly Ellison?' and now Ethel turned +strangely white. 'Papa, there must be some mistake about it all. I--I +will go and see Mildred.' + +'You may spare yourself that trouble,' returned Mr. Trelawny, gloomily. + +Ethel's changing colour, her evident pain, were not lost upon him. +'There may be a chance for Cathcart still,' was his next thought; +'women's hearts as well as men are often caught at the rebound; she'll +have him out of pique--who knows?' and softened by this latter +reflection he threw down his paper, and continued almost graciously-- + +'Yes, you may spare yourself that trouble, for I met Miss Lambert myself +this afternoon.' + +'And you spoke to her?' demanded Ethel, with almost trembling eagerness. + +'I spoke to her, of course; we had quite a long talk, till she said the +sun was in her eyes, and walked on. She seemed surprised that I had +heard the news already, said it was so like Kirkby Stephen gossip, but +corroborated it by owning that they were all as much in the dark as we +were; but Miss Ellison being such a child, no one had thought of such a +thing.' + +'Was that all she said? Did she look as well as usual? I have not seen +her for nearly a fortnight, you know,' answered Ethel, apologetically. + +'I can't say I noticed. Miss Lambert would be a nice-looking woman if +she did not dress so dowdily; but she looked worse than ever this +morning,' grumbled the Squire, who was a _connoisseur_ in woman's dress, +and had eyed Mildred's brown hat and gray gingham with marked disfavour. +'She said the sun made her feel a little faint, and then she sent her +love to you and moved away. I think we might as well do the civil and +call at the vicarage this afternoon; we shall see the bride-elect +herself then,' and Ethel, who dared not refuse, agreed very unwillingly. + +The visit was a trying ordeal for every one concerned. Polly indeed +looked her prettiest, and blushed very becomingly over the Squire's +laboured compliments, though, to do him justice, they were less hollow +than usual; he was too well pleased at the match not to relapse a little +from his frigidity. + +'You must convince my daughter--she has chosen to be very sceptical,' he +said, with a side-long look at Ethel, who just moved her lips and +coloured slightly. She had kissed Polly in her ordinary manner, with no +special effusion, and added a quiet word or two, and then she had sat +down by Mildred. + +'Polly looks very pretty and very happy, does she not?' asked Mildred +after a time, lifting her quiet eyes to Ethel. + +'I beg your pardon--yes, she looks very nice,' returned Ethel, absently. +'I suppose I ought to say I am glad about this,' she continued with some +abruptness as Mildred took up her work again, and sewed with quick even +stitches, 'but I cannot; I am sorry, desperately sorry. She is a dear +little soul, I know, but all the same I think Dr. Heriot has acted +foolishly.' + +'My dear Ethel,--hush, they will hear you!' The busy fingers trembled a +little, but Mildred did not again raise her eyes. + +'I do not care who hears me; he is just like other men. I am +disappointed in him; I will have no Mentor now but you, Mildred.' + +'Dr. Heriot has done nothing to deserve your scorn,' returned Mildred, +but her cheek flushed a little. Did she know that instinctively Ethel +had guessed her secret, that her generous heart throbbed with sympathy +for a pain which, hidden as it was, was plainly legible to her +clear-sightedness? 'We ought all to be glad that he has found comfort at +last,' she said, a little unsteadily. + +Ethel darted a singular look at her, admiring, yet full of pain. + +'I am not so short-sighted as you. I am sorry for a good man's +mistake--for it is a mistake, whatever you may say, Mildred. Polly is +pretty and good, but she is not good enough for him. And then, he is +more than double her age!' + +'I thought that would be an additional virtue in your eyes,' returned +Mildred, pointedly. She was sufficiently mistress of herself and secure +enough in her quiet strength to be able to retaliate in a gentle womanly +way. Ethel coloured and changed her ground. + +'They have nothing in common. She is nice, but then she is not clever; +you know yourself that her abilities are not above the average, +Mildred.' + +'Dr. Heriot does not like clever women, he has often said so; Olive +would not suit him at all.' + +'I never thought of Olive,' in a piqued voice. Ethel was losing her +temper over Mildred's calmness. 'I am aware plain people are not to his +taste.' + +'No, Polly pleases him there; and then, she is so sweet.' + +'I should have thought him the last man to care for insipid sweetness,' +began Ethel, stormily, but Mildred stopped her with unusual warmth. + +'You are wrong there; there is nothing insipid about Polly; she is +bright, and good, and true-hearted; you undervalue his choice when you +say such things, Ethel. Polly's extreme youthfulness and gaiety of +spirits have misled you.' + +'How lovingly you defend your favourite, Mildred; you shall not hear +another word in her disparagement. What does he call her? Mary?' + +'No, Polly; but I believe he has plenty of pet names for her.' + +'Yes, he will pet her--ah, I understand, and I am not to scorn him. I am +not to call him foolish, Mildred?' + +'Of course not. Why should you?' + +'Ah, why should I? Papa, it is time for us to be going; you have talked +to Miss Ellison long enough. My pretty bird,' as Polly stole shyly up to +them, 'I have not wished you joy yet, but it is not always to be had for +the wishing.' + +'I wish every one would not be so kind,' stammered Polly. Mr. Trelawny's +condescension and elaborate compliments had almost overwhelmed the poor +little thing. + +'How the child blushes! I wonder you are not afraid of such a grave +Mentor, Polly.' + +'Oh, no, he is too kind for that--is he not, Aunt Milly?' + +'I hope you do not make Mildred the umpire,' replied Ethel, watching +them both. 'Oh these men!' she thought to herself, as she dropped the +girl's hand; her eyes grew suddenly dim as she stooped and kissed +Mildred's pale cheek. 'Good--there is no one worthy of you,' she said to +herself; 'he is not--he never will be now.' + +'People are almost too kind; I wish they would not come and talk to me +so,' Polly said, with one of her pretty pouts, as she walked with Dr. +Heriot that evening. He was a little shy of courting in public, and +loved better to have her with him in one of their quiet walks; this +evening he had come again to fetch her, and Mildred had given him some +instruction as to the length and duration of their walk. + +'Had you not better come with us?' he had said to her, as though he +meant it; but Mildred shook her head with a slight smile. 'We shall all +meet you at Ewbank Scar; it is better for you to have the child to +yourself for a little,' she had replied. + +Polly wished that Aunt Milly had come with them after all. Dearly as she +loved her kind guardian and friend, she was still a little shy of him; a +consciousness of girlish incompleteness, of undeveloped youth, haunted +her perpetually. Polly was sufficiently quick-witted to feel her own +deficiencies. How should she ever be able to satisfy him? she thought. +Aunt Milly could talk so beautifully to him, and even Olive had brief +spasms of eloquence. Polly felt sometimes as she listened to them as +though she were craning her neck to look over a wall at some unknown +territory with strange elevations and giddy depths, and wide bridgeless +rivers meandering through it. + +Suppositions, vague imaginations, oppressed her; Polly could talk +sensibly in a grave matter-of-fact way, and at times she had a pretty +_piquante_ language of her own; but Chriss's erudition, and Olive's +philosophy, and even Mildred's gentle sermonising, were wearying to her. +'I can talk about what I have seen and what I have heard and read,' she +said once, 'but I cannot play at talk--make believe--as you grown-up +children do. I think it is hard,' continued practical Polly, 'that Aunt +Milly, who has seen nothing, and has been shut up in a sickroom all the +best years of her life, can spin yards of talk where I cannot say a +word.' But Dr. Heriot found no fault with his young companion; on the +contrary, Polly's _naivete_ and freshness were infinitely refreshing to +the weary man, who, as he told himself, had lived out the best years of +his life. He looked at her now as she uttered her childish complaint. +One little gloved hand rested on his arm, the other held up the long +skirts daintily, under the broad-brimmed hat a pretty oval face dimpled +and blushed with every word. + +'If people would only not be so kind--if they would let me alone,' she +grumbled. + +'That is a singular grievance, Polly,' returned Dr. Heriot, smiling; +'happiness ought not to make us selfish.' + +'That is what Aunt Milly says. Ah, how good she is!' sighed the girl, +enviously; 'almost a saint. I wish I were more like her.' + +'I am satisfied with Polly as she is, though she is no saint.' + +'No, are you really?' looking up at him brightly. 'Do you know, I have +been thinking a great deal since--you know when----' her colour giving +emphasis to her unfinished sentence. + +'Indeed? I should like to know some of those thoughts,' with a playful +glance at her downcast face. 'I must positively hear them, Polly. How +sweet and still it is this evening. Suppose we sit and rest ourselves +for a little while, and you shall tell me all about them.' + +Polly shook her head. 'They are not so easy to tell,' she said, looking +very shy all at once. Dr. Heriot had placed her on a stile at the head +of the little lane that skirted Podgill; the broad sunny meadow lay +before them, gemmed with trefoil and Polly's favourite eyebright; blue +gentian, and pink and white yarrow, and yellow ragwort, wove straggling +colours in the tangled hedgerows; the graceful campanula, with its +bell-like blossoms, gleamed here and there, towering above the lowlier +rose-campion, while meadow-sweet and trails of honeysuckle scented the +air. + +Dr. Heriot leant against the fence with folded arms; his mood was sunny +and benignant. In his gray suit and straw hat he looked young, almost +handsome. Under the dark moustache his lip curled with an amused, +undefinable smile. + +'I see you will want my help,' he said, with a sort of compassion and +amusement at her shyness. Whatever she might own, his little fearless +Polly was certainly afraid of him. + +'I have tangled them dreadfully,' blushed Polly; 'the thoughts, I mean. +Every night when I go to bed I wish--I wish I were as wise as Aunt +Milly, and then perhaps I should satisfy you.' + +'My dear child!' and then he stopped a little, amazed and perplexed. Why +was Mildred Lambert's goodness to be ever thrust on him, he thought, +with a man's natural impatience? He had not bent his neck to her mild +sway; her friendship was very precious to him--one of the good things +for which he daily thanked God; but this innocent harping on her name +fretted him with a vague sense of injury. 'Polly, who has put this in +your head?' he said; and there was a shadow of displeasure in his tone, +quiet as it was. + +'No one,' she returned, in surprise; 'the thought has often come to me. +Are you never afraid,' she continued, timidly, but her young face grew +all at once sweet and earnest--'are you not afraid that you will be +tired--dreadfully tired--when you have only me to whom to talk?' + +Then his gravity relaxed: the speech was so like Polly,--so like his +honest, simple-minded girl. + +'And what if I were?' he repeated, playing with her fears. + +'I should be so sorry,' she returned, seriously. 'No, I should be more +than sorry; I think it would make me unhappy. I should always be trying +to get older and wiser for your sake; and if I did not succeed I should +be ready to break my heart. No, do not smile,' as she caught a glimpse +of his amused face; 'I was never more serious in my life.' + +'Why, Mary, my little darling, what is this?' he said, lifting the +little hand to his lips; for the bright eyes were full of tears now. + +'No, call me Polly--I like that best,' she returned, hurriedly. 'Only my +father called me Mary; and from you----' + +'Well, what of me, little one?' + +'I do not know. It sounds so strange from your lips. It makes me feel +afraid, somehow, as though I were grown up and quite old. I like the +childish Polly best.' + +'You shall be obeyed, dear--literally and entirely, I mean;' for he saw +her agitation needed soothing. 'But Polly is not quite herself to-night; +these fears and scruples are not like her. Let me hear all these +troublesome thoughts, dearest; you know I am a safe confidant.' And +encouraged by the gentleness of his tone, Polly crept close into the +shelter of the kind arm that had been thrown round her. + +'I don't think it hurts one to have fears,' she said, in her simple way; +'they seem to grow out of one's very happiness. You must not mind if I +am afraid at times that I shall not always please you; it will only be +because I want to do it so much.' + +'There, you wound and heal in one breath,' he replied, half-laughing, +and half-touched. + +'It has come into my mind more than once that when we are alone +together; when I come to take care of you; you know what I mean.' + +'When you are my own sweet wife--I understand, Polly;' and now nothing +could exceed the grave tenderness of his voice. + +'Yes, when you bring me home to the fireside, which you say has been so +lonely,' she returned, with touching frankness, at once childlike and +womanly. 'When you have no one but me to comfort you, what if you find +out too late that I am so young--so very young--that I have not all you +want?' + +'Polly--my own Polly!' + +'Ah, you may call me that, and yet the disappointment may be bitter. You +have been so good to me, I love you so dearly, that I could not bear to +see a shade on your face, young as I am. I do not feel like a child +about this.' + +'No, you are not a child,' he returned, looking at her with new +reverence in his eyes. In her earnestness she had forgotten her girlish +shyness; her hands were clasped fearlessly on his arm, truth was written +on her guileless face, her words rang in his ear with mingled pathos and +purity. + +'No, you are not a child,' he repeated, and then he stopped all of a +sudden; his wooing had grown difficult to him. He had never liked her so +well, he had never regarded her with such proud fondness, as now, when +she pleaded with him for toleration of her undeveloped youth. For one +swift instant a consciousness of the truth of her words struck home to +him with a keen sense of pain, marring the pleasant harmony of his +dream; but when, he looked at her again it was gone. + +And yet how was he to answer her? It was not petting fondness she +wanted--not even ordinary love-speeches--only rest from an uneasy fear +that harassed her repose--an assurance, mute or otherwise, that she was +sufficient for his peace. If he understood her aright, this was what she +wanted. + +'Polly, I do not think you need to be afraid,' he said at last, +hesitating strangely over his words. 'I understand you, my darling; I +know what you mean; but I do not think you need be afraid.' + +'Ah, if I could only feel that!' she whispered. + +'I will make you feel it; listen to me, dear. We men are odd, +unaccountable beings; we have moods, our work worries us, we have tired +fits now and then, nothing is right, all is vanity of vanity, disgust, +want of success, blurred outlines, opaque mist everywhere--then it is I +shall want my little comforter. You will be my veritable Sunbeam then.' + +'But if I fail you?' + +'Hush, you will never fail me. What heresy, what disbelief in a wife's +first duty! Do you know, Polly, it is just three years since I first +dreamt of the beneficent fairy who was to rise up beside my hearth.' + +'You thought of me three years ago?' + +'Thought of you? No, dreamt of you, fairy. You know you came to me first +in a ladder of motes and beams. Don't you remember Dad Fabian's attic, +and the picture of Cain, and the strange guardian coming in through the +low doorway?' + +'Yes, I remember; you startled me.' + +'Polly is a hundred times prettier now; but I can recognise still in you +the slim creature in the rusty black frock, with thin arms, and large +dark eyes, drinking in the sunlight. It was such a forlorn Polly then.' + +'And then you were good to me.' + +'I am afraid I must have seemed stern to you, poor child, repelling your +young impulse in such a manner. I remember, while you were pleading in +your innocent fashion, and Miss Lambert was smiling at you, that a +curious fancy came into my head. Something hardly human seemed to +whisper to me, "John Heriot, after all, you may have found a little +comforter."' + +'I am so glad. I mean that you have thought of me for such a time.' +Polly was dimpling again; the old happy light had come back to her eyes. + +'You see it is no new idea. I have watched my Polly growing sweeter and +brighter day by day. How often you have confided in me; how often I have +shared your innocent thoughts. You were not afraid to show me affection +then.' + +'I am not now,' she stammered. + +'Perhaps not now, my bright-eyed bird; you have borrowed courage and +eloquence for the occasion, inciting me to all manner of lover-like and +foolish speeches. What do you say, little one--do you think I play the +lover so badly, after all?' + +'Yes--no--it does not suit you, somehow,' faltered Polly, truthful +still. + +'What, am I too old?' but Dr. Heriot's tone was piqued in spite of its +assumed raillery. + +'No, you know you are not; but I like the old ways and manners best. +When you talk like this I get shy and stupid, and do not feel like Polly +at all.' + +'You are the dearest and sweetest Polly in the world,' he returned, with +a low, satisfied laugh; 'the most delightful combination of quaintness +and simplicity. I wonder what wise Aunt Milly would say if she heard +you.' + +'That reminds me that she will be expecting us,' returned Polly, +springing off the stile without waiting for his hand. She had shaken off +her serious mood, and chatted gaily as they hurried along the upper +woodland path; her hands were full of roses and great clusters of +campanula by the time they reached Mildred, who was sitting on a little +knoll that overlooked the Scar. In winter-time the beck rushed noisily +down the high rocky face of the cliff, but now the long drought had +dried up its sources, and with the exception of a few still pools the +riverbed was dry. + +Mildred sat with her elbow on her knee, looking dreamily at the gray +scarped rock and overhanging vegetation; while Olive and Chriss +scrambled over the slippery boulders in search of ferns. Behind the dark +woods the sunset clouds were flaming with breadths of crimson and yellow +glory. Over the barren rocks a tiny crescent moon was rising; Mildred's +eyes were riveted on it. + +'We have found some butterwort and kingcups; Dr. Heriot declares it is +the same that Shakespeare calls "Winking Mary-buds." You must add it to +your wild-flower collection, Aunt Milly.' + +'Are you tired of waiting for us, Miss Lambert? Polly has been giving me +some trouble, and I have had to lecture her.' + +'Not very severely, I expect,' returned Mildred. She looked anxiously +from one to another, but Polly's gaiety reassured her as she flung a +handful of flowers into her lap, and then proceeded to sort and arrange +them. + +'You might give us Perdita's pretty speech, Polly,' said Dr. Heriot, who +leant against a young thorn watching her. + +Polly gave a mischievous little laugh. She remembered the quotation; Roy +had so often repeated it. He would spout pages of Shakespeare as they +walked through the wintry woods. 'You have brought it upon yourself,' +she cried, holding up to him a long festoon of gaudy weeds, and +repeating the lines in her fresh young voice. + + 'Here's flowers for you! + Hot lavender, mints, savory, marjoram; + The marigold, that goes to bed with the sun, + And with him rises weeping: these are flowers + Of middle summer, and I think they are given + To men of middle age. You are very welcome.' + +'Oh, Polly--Polly--fie!' + +'Little Heartsease, do you know what you deserve?' but Dr. Heriot +evidently enjoyed the mischief. 'After all, I brought it on myself. I +believe I was thinking of the crazy Danish maid, Ophelia, all the time.' + +'You have had your turn,' answered Polly, with her prettiest pout; 'my +next shall be for Aunt Milly. I am afraid I don't look much like +Ophelia, though. There, Aunt Milly--there's rosemary, that's for +remembrance--pray you, love, remember; and there is pansies, that's for +thoughts.' + +'Make them as gay as your own, Heartsease;' then-- + +'Hush, don't interrupt me; I am making Aunt Milly shiver. "There's +fennel for you and columbines; there's rue for you, and here's some for +me. We may call it herb of grace o' Sundays. You may wear your rue with +a difference."' + +'You are offering me a sorry garland;' and Mildred forced a smile over +the girl's quaint conceit. 'Mints, savory, marjoram, all the homeliest +herbs you could find in your garden. I shall not forget the compliment +to my middle age,' grumbled Dr. Heriot, who was unusually tickled at the +goodness of the _repartee_ Polly was never so thoroughly at her ease as +when she was under Aunt Milly's wing. Just then Mildred rose to recall +Olive and Chriss; as she went down the woody hillock a quick contraction +of pain furrowed her brow. + +'There's rue for you,' she said to herself; 'ah, and rosemary, that's +for remembrance. Oh, Polly, I felt tempted to use old Polonius's words, +and say, "there's a method in madness"; how little you know the true +word spoken in jest; never mind, if I can only take it as "my herb of +grace o' Sundays," it will be well yet.' + +Mildred found herself monopolised by Chriss during their homeward walk. +Polly and Dr. Heriot were in front, and Olive, as was often her custom, +lingering far behind. + +'Let them go on, Aunt Milly,' whispered Chriss; 'lovers are dreadfully +poor company to every one but themselves. Polly will be no good at all +now she is engaged.' + +'What do you know about lovers, a little girl like you?' returned +Mildred, amused in spite of herself. + +'I am not a little girl, I am nearly sixteen,' replied Chriss, +indignantly. 'Romeo and Juliet were all very well, and so were Ferdinand +and Miranda, but in real life it is so stupid. I have made up my mind +that I shall never marry.' + +'Wait until you are asked, puss.' + +'Ah, as to that,' returned the young philosopher, calmly, 'as Dr. John +says, it takes all sorts of people to make up a world, and I daresay +some one will be found who does not object to eye-glasses.' + +'Or to blue stockings,' observed Mildred, rather slyly. + +'You forget we live in enlightened days,' remarked Chriss, +sententiously; 'this sort of ideas belonged to the Dark Ages. Minds are +not buried alive now because they happen to be born in the feminine +gender,' continued Chriss, with a slight confusion of metaphor. + +Mildred smiled. Chriss's odd talk distracted her from sad thoughts. The +winding path had already hidden the lovers from her; unconsciously she +slackened her pace. + +'I should not mind a nice gray professor, perhaps, if he knew lots of +languages, and didn't take snuff. But they all do; it clears the brain, +and is a salutary irritant,' went on Chriss, who had only seen one +professor in her life, and that one a very dingy specimen. 'I should +like my professor to be old and sensible, and not young and silly, and +he must not care about eating and drinking, or expect me to sew on his +buttons, or mend his gloves. Some one ought to invent a mending-machine. +I am sure these things take away half the pleasure of living.' + +'My little Chriss, do you mean to be head without hands? You will be a +very imperfect woman, I am afraid, and I hope in that case you will not +find your professor.' + +'I would rather be without him, after all,' replied Chriss, +discontentedly. 'Men are so stupid; they want their own way, and every +one has to give in to them. I would rather live in lodgings like Roy, +somewhere near the British Museum, where I could go and read every day, +and in the evening I would go to lectures and concerts, or stop at home +and play with Fritter-my-wig: that is just the sort of life I should +like, Aunt Milly.' + +'What is to become of your father and me? Perhaps Olive may marry.' + +'Olive? not a bit of it. She always says nothing would induce her to +leave papa. You don't want me to stop all my life in this little corner +of the world, where everything is behind the times, and there is not a +creature to whom one cares to speak?' + +'Chriss, Chriss, what a Radical you are,' returned Mildred. She was a +little weary of Chriss's childish chatter. They were in the deep lane +skirting Podgill now; just beyond the footbridge Polly and Dr. Heriot +were standing waiting for them. + +'Is the tangle all gone?' he asked presently. 'Are you quite happy +again, Heartsease?' + +'Yes, very happy,' she assured him, with a bright smile, and he felt a +pressure of the hand that rested on his arm. + +'What a darling she is,' he thought to himself somewhat later that +night, as he walked across the market-place, now shining in the +moonlight 'Little witch, how prettily she acted that speech of Perdita, +her eyes imploring forgiveness all the time for her mischief. The child +has deep feelings too. Once or twice she made me feel oddly. But I need +not fear; she will make a sweet wife, I know, my innocent Polly.' + +But the little scene haunted his fancy, and he had an odd dream about it +that night. He thought that they were in the grassy knoll again looking +over the Scar, and that some one pushed some withered herbs into his +hands. 'Here's rue for you, and there's some for me; you may wear your +rue with a difference,' said a voice. + +'Unkind Polly!' he returned, dropping them, and stretched out his arms +to imprison the culprit; but Polly was not there, only Mildred Lambert +was there, with her elbow on her knee, looking sadly over the Scar. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +THE DESERTED COTTON-MILL IN HILBECK GLEN + + Hey the green ribbon! we kneeled beside it, + We parted the grasses dewy and sheen; + Drop over drop, there filtered and slided + A tiny bright beck that trickled between. + Tinkle, tinkle, sweetly it sung to us, + Light was our talk as of faery bells-- + Faery wedding-bells faintly rung to us + Down in their fortunate parallels.--Jean Ingelow. + + +Richard came home for a few days towards the end of the long vacation. +He was looking pale and thin in spite of his enforced cheerfulness, and +it was easy to see that the inaction of the last few weeks had only +induced restlessness, and a strong desire for hard, grinding work, as a +sedative for mental unrest. His brotherly congratulations to Polly were +mixed with secret amusement. + +'So you are "Heriot's choice," are you, Polly?' he said, taking her hand +kindly, and looking at the happy, blushing face. + +'Are you glad, Richard?' she whispered, shyly. + +'I can hardly tell,' he returned, with a curiously perplexed expression. +'I believe overwhelming surprise was my first sensation on hearing the +wonderful intelligence. I gave such an exclamation that Roy turned quite +pale, and thought something had happened at home, and then he got in a +temper, and carried off the letter to read by himself; he would have it +I was chaffing him.' + +Polly pouted half-seriously. 'You are not a bit nice to me, Richard, or +Roy either. Why has he never written to me himself? He must have got my +two letters.' + +'You forget; I have never seen anything of him for the last six weeks. +Fancy my finding him off on the tramp when I returned that night, +prosecuting one of his art pilgrimages, as he calls them, to some shrine +of beauty or other. He had not even the grace to apologise for his base +desertion till a week afterwards. However, Frognal without Rex was not +to be borne; so I started off to Cornwall in search of our reading +party, and then got inveigled by Oxenham, who carried me off to +Ilfracombe.' + +'It was very wrong of Rex to leave you; he is not generally so +thoughtless,' returned Polly, who had been secretly chagrined by this +neglect on the part of her old favourite. 'Is there no letter from Rex?' +had been a daily question for weeks. + +'Rex is a regular Bohemian since he took to wearing a moustache and a +velvet coat. All the Hampstead young ladies are breaking their hearts +over him. He looks so handsome and picturesque; if he would only cut his +hair shorter, and open his sleepy eyes, I should admire him myself.' + +Polly sighed. + +'I wish he would come home, dear old fellow. I long to see him; but I am +dreadfully angry with him, all the same; he ought to have written to Dr. +Heriot, if not to me. It is disrespectful--unkind--not like Rex at all.' +And Polly's bright eyes swam with tears of genuine resentment. + +'I shall tell Roy how you take his unkindness to heart.' + +She shook her head. + +'It is very ungrateful of him, to say the least of it. You have spoiled +him, Polly.' + +'No,' she returned, very gravely. 'Rex is too good to be spoiled: he +must have some reason for his silence. If he had told me he was going to +be married--to--to any of those young ladies you mention, I would have +gone to London to see his wife. I know,' she continued, softly, 'Rex was +fonder of me than he was of Olive and Chriss. I was just like a +favourite sister, and I always felt as though he were my own--own +brother. Why there is nothing that I would not do for Rex.' + +'Dear Polly, we all know that; you have been the truest little sister to +him, and to us all.' + +'Yes, and then for him to treat me like this--to be silent six whole +weeks. Perhaps he did not like Aunt Milly writing. Perhaps he thought I +ought to have written to him myself; and I have since--two long +letters.' + +'Dr. Heriot will be angry with Rex if he sees you fretting.' + +'I am not fretting; I never fret,' she returned, indignantly; 'as though +that foolish boy deserved it. I am happier than I can tell you. Oh, +Richard, is he not good?' + +And there was no mistaking the sweet earnestness with which she spoke of +her future husband. + +'Ah, that he is.' + +'How grave you look, Richard! Are you really glad--really and truly, I +mean?' + +'Why, Polly, what a little Jesuit you are, diving into people's secret +thoughts in this way.' And there was a shadow of embarrassment in +Richard's cordial manner. 'Of course I am glad that you should be happy, +dear, and not less so that Dr. John's solitary days are over.' + +'Yes, but you don't think me worthy of him,' she returned, plaintively, +and yet shrewdly. + +'I don't think you really grown up, you mean; you wear long dresses, you +are quite a fashionable young lady now, but to me you always seem little +Polly.' + +'Rude boy,' she returned, with a charming pout, 'one would think you had +gray hairs, to listen to you. I can't be so very young or so very silly, +or he would not have chosen me, you know.' + +'I suppose you have bewitched him,' returned Richard, smiling; but Polly +refused to hear any more and ran away laughing. + +Richard's face clouded over his thoughts when he was left alone. +Whatever they were he kept them locked in his own breast; during the few +days he remained at home, he was observant of all that passed under his +eyes, and there was a deferential tenderness in his manner to Mildred +that somewhat surprised her; but neither to her nor to any other person +did he hint that he was disappointed by Dr. Heriot's choice. + +During the first day there had been no mention of Kirkleatham or Ethel +Trelawny, but on the second day Richard had himself broken the ice by +suggesting that Mildred should contrive some errand that should take her +thither, and that in the course of her visit she should mention his +arrival at the vicarage. + +'I must think of her, Aunt Milly; we are neither of us ready to undergo +the awkwardness of a first meeting. Perhaps in a few months things may +go on much as usual. I always meant to write to her before my +ordination. Tell her that I shall only be here for a few days--that +Polly wants me to wait over her birthday, but that I have no intention +of intruding on her.' + +'Are you so sure she will regard it as an intrusion?' asked Mildred, +quietly. + +'There is no need to debate the question,' was the somewhat hasty reply. +'I must not deviate from the rule I have laid down for myself, to see as +little as possible of her until after my ordination.' + +'And that will be at Whitsuntide?' + +'Yes,' he returned, with an involuntary sigh; 'so, Aunt Milly, you will +promise to go after dinner?' + +Mildred promised, but fate was against her. Olive and Polly had driven +over to Appleby with Dr. Heriot, and relays of callers detained her +unwillingly all the afternoon; she saw Richard was secretly chafing, as +he helped her to entertain them with the small talk usual on such +occasions. He was just bidding a cheerful good-bye to Mrs. Heath and her +sister, when horses' hoofs rung on the beck gravel of the courtyard, and +Ethel rode up to the door, followed by her groom. + +Mildred grew pale from sympathy when she saw Richard's face, but there +was no help for it now; she saw Ethel start and flush, and then quietly +put aside his assistance, and spring lightly to the ground; but she +looked almost as white as Richard himself when she came into the room, +and not all her dignity could hide that she was trembling. + +'I did not know, I thought you were alone,' she faltered, as Mildred +kissed her; but Richard caught the whisper. + +'You shall be alone if you wish it,' he returned, trying to speak in his +ordinary manner, but failing miserably. + +Poor lad, this unexpected meeting with his idol was too much even for +his endurance. 'I was not prepared for it,' as he said afterwards. He +thought she looked sweeter than ever under the influence of that girlish +embarrassment. He watched her anxiously as she stood still holding +Mildred's hand. + +'You shall not be made uncomfortable, Miss Trelawny; it is my fault, not +yours, that I am here. I told Aunt Milly to prevent this awkwardness. I +will go, and then you two will be alone together;' and he was turning to +the door, but Ethel's good heart prompted her to speak, and prevented +months of estrangement. + +'Why should you go, Richard? this is your home, not mine; Mildred, ask +him not to do anything so strange--so unkind.' + +'But if my presence embarrasses you?' he returned, with an impetuous +Coeur-de-Lion look that made Ethel blush. + +She could not answer. + +'It will not do so if you sit down and be like yourself,' said Mildred, +pleadingly. She looked at the two young creatures with half-pitying, +half-amused eyes. Richard's outraged boyish dignity and Ethel's yearning +overture of peace to her old favourite--it was beautiful and yet sad to +watch them, she thought. 'Richard, will you ring that bell, please?' +continued the wary woman; 'Ethel has come for her afternoon cup of tea, +and she does not like to be kept waiting. Tell Etta to be quick, and +fetch some of her favourite seed-cake from the dining-room sideboard.' + +Mildred's common sense was rarely at fault; to be matter-of-fact at such +a crisis was invaluable. It restored Richard's calmness as nothing else +could have done; it gave him five minutes' grace, during which he hunted +for the cake and his mislaid coolness together; that neither could be +found at once mattered little. Richard's overcharged feelings had safe +vent in scolding Etta and creating commotion and hubbub in the kitchen, +where the young master's behests were laws fashioned after the Mede and +Persian type. + +When he re-entered the room Mildred knew she could trust him. He found +Ethel sitting by the open window with her hat and gauntlets off, +enjoying the tea Mildred had provided. He carried the cake gravely to +her, as though it were a mission of importance, and Ethel, who could not +have swallowed a mouthful to save her life, thanked him with a sweet +smile and crumbled the fragments on her plate. + +By and by Mildred was called away on business. She obeyed reluctantly +when she saw Ethel's appealing look. + +'I shall only be away a few minutes. Give her some more tea, Richard,' +she said as she closed the door. + +Richard did as he was bid; but either his hand shook or Ethel's, though +neither owned to the impeachment, and the cup slipped, and some of the +hot liquid was spilt on the blue cloth habit. + +The laugh that followed was a very healing one. Richard was on his knees +trying to undo the mischief and blaming himself in no measured terms for +his awkwardness. When he saw the sparkle in Ethel's eye his brow cleared +like magic. + +'You are not angry with me, then?' + +'Angry with you! What an idea, Richard; such a trifling accident as +that. Why it has not even hurt the cloth.' + +'No, but it has scalded your hand; let me look.' And as Ethel tried to +hide it he held it firmly in his own. + +'You see it is nothing, hardly a red spot!' but he did not let it go. + +'Ethel, will you promise me one thing? No, don't draw your hand away, I +shall say nothing to frighten you. I was a fool just now, but then one +is a fool sometimes when one comes suddenly upon the woman one loves. +But will you promise not to shun me again, not as though you hated me, I +mean?' + +'Hated you! For shame, Richard.' + +'Well, then, as though you were afraid of me. You disdained my +assistance just now, you would not let me lift you from your horse. How +often have I done so before, and you never repulsed me!' + +'You ought not to have noticed it, you ought to have understood,' +returned Ethel, with quivering lips. It was very sweet to be talking to +him again if only he would not encroach on his privilege. + +'Then let things be between us as they always have been,' he pleaded. 'I +have done nothing to forfeit your friendship, have I? I have humbled +myself, not you,' with a flavour of bitterness which she could not find +it in her heart to resent. 'Let me see you sitting here sometimes in my +father's house; such a sight will go far to soothe me. Shall it be so, +Ethel?' + +'Yes, if you wish it,' she returned, almost humbly. + +Her only thought was how she should comfort him. Her womanly eyes read +signs of conflict and suffering in the pale, wan face; when she had +assented, he relinquished her hand with a mute clasp of thanks. He +looked almost himself when Mildred came back, apologising for her long +delay. Had she really been gone half-an-hour--neither of them knew it. +Ethel looked soothed, tranquillised, almost happy, and Richard not +graver than his wont. + +Mildred was relieved to find things on this agreeable footing, but she +was not a little surprised when two days afterwards Richard announced +his intention of going up to Kirkleatham, and begged her to accompany +him. + +'I will promise not to make a fool of myself again; you shall see how +well I shall behave,' he said, anticipating her remonstrance. 'Don't +raise any objection, please, Aunt Milly. I have thought it all over, and +I believe I am acting for the best,' and of course Richard had his way. + +Ethel's varying colour when she met them testified to her surprise, and +for a little while her manner was painfully constrained, but it could +not long remain so. Richard seemed determined that she should be at her +ease with him. He talked well and freely, only avoiding with the nicest +tact any subject that might recall the conversation in the kitchen +garden. + +Mildred sat by in secret admiration and wonder; the simple woman could +make nothing of the young diplomatist. That Richard could talk well on +grave subjects was no novelty to her; but never had he proved himself so +eloquent; rather terse than fluent, addicted more to correctness than +wit, he now ranged lightly over a breadth of subjects, touching +gracefully on points on which he knew them to be both interested, with +an admirable choice of words that pleased even Ethel's fastidiousness. + +Mildred saw that her attention was first attracted, and then that she +was insensibly drawn to answer him. She seemed less embarrassed, the old +enthusiasm woke. She contradicted him once in her old way, he maintained +his opinion with warm persistence;--they disagreed. They were still in +the height of the argument when Mildred looked at her watch and said +they must be going. + +It was Ethel's turn now to proffer hospitality, but to her surprise +Richard quietly refused it. He would come again and bid her good-bye, he +said gravely, holding her hand; he hoped then that Mr. Trelawny would be +at home. + +His manner seemed to trouble Ethel. She had stretched out her hand for +her garden-hat. It had always been a custom with her to walk down the +croft with Mildred, but now she apparently changed her mind, for she +replaced it on the peg. + +'You are right,' said Richard, quietly, as he watched this little +by-play, 'it is far too hot in the crofts, and to-day Aunt Milly has my +escort. Old customs are sometimes a bore even to a thorough conservative +such as you, Miss Trelawny.' + +'I will show you that you are wrong,' returned Ethel, with unusual +warmth, as the broad-brimmed hat was in her hand again. There was a +pin-point of sarcasm under Richard's smooth speech that grazed her +susceptibility. + +Perhaps Richard had gained his end, for an odd smile played round his +mouth as he walked beside her. He did not seem to notice that she did +not address him again, but confined her attention to Mildred. Her cheeks +were very pink, possibly from the heat, when she parted from them at the +gate, and Richard got only a very fleeting pressure of the hand. + +'Richard, I do not know whether to admire or to be afraid of you,' said +Mildred, half in jest, as they crossed the road. + +A flash of intelligence answered her. + +'Did I behave well? It is weary work. Aunt Milly; it will make an old +man of me before my time, but she shall reverence me yet,' and his mouth +closed with the old determined look she knew so well. + +Dr. Heriot had planned a picnic to Hillbeck in honour of Polly's +eighteenth birthday, the vicarage party and Mr. Marsden being the only +guests. + +Hillbeck Wood was a very favourite place of resort on hot summer days. +To-day dinner was to be spread in the deep little glen lying behind an +old disused cotton-mill, a large dilapidated building that Polly always +declared must be haunted, and to please this fancy of hers Dr. Heriot +had once fabricated a weird plot of a story which was so charmingly +terrible, as Chriss phrased it, that the girls declared nothing would +induce them to remain in the glen after sundown. + +There was certainly something weird and awesome in the very silence and +neglect of the place, but the glen behind it was a lovely spot. The +hillsides were thickly wooded; through the bottom of the glen ran a +sparkling little beck; the rich colours of the foliage, wearing now the +golden and red livery of autumn, were warm and harmonious; while a +cloudless sky and a soft September air brightened the scene of +enjoyment. + +Mildred, who, as usual on such occasions, was doomed to rest and +inaction, amused herself with collecting a specimen of ruta muraria for +her fernery, while Polly and Chriss washed salad in the running stream, +and Richard and Hugh Marsden unpacked the hampers, and Olive spread the +tempting contents on dishes tastefully adorned with leaves and flowers +under Dr. Heriot's supervision, while Mr. Lambert sat by, an amused +spectator of the whole. + +There was plenty of innocent gaiety over the little feast. Hugh +Marsden's blunders and large-handed awkwardness were always provocative +of mirth, and he took all in such good part. Polly and Chriss waited on +everybody, and even washed the plates in the beck, Polly tucking up her +fresh blue cambric and showing her little high-heeled shoes as she +tripped over the grass. + +When the meal was over the gentlemen seemed inclined to linger in the +pleasant shade; Chriss was coaxing Dr. Heriot for a story, but he was +too lazy to comply, and only roused himself to listen to Richard and +Hugh Marsden, who had got on the subject of clerical work and the +difficulty of contesting northern prejudice. + +'Their ignorance and hard-headedness are lamentable,' groaned Hugh; +'dissent has a terrible hold over their mind; but to judge from a few of +the stories Mr. Delaware tells us, things are better than they were.' + +'My father met with a curious instance of this crass ignorance on the +part of one of his parishioners about fifteen years ago,' returned +Richard. 'I have heard him relate it so often. You remember old W----, +father?' + +'I am not likely to forget him,' replied Mr. Lambert, smiling. 'It was a +very pitiful case to my mind, though one cannot forbear a smile at the +quaintness of his notion. Heriot has often heard me refer to it.' + +'We must have it for Marsden's benefit then.' + +'I think Richard was right in saying that it was about fifteen years ago +that I was called to minister to an old man in his eighty-sixth year, +who had been blind from his birth, I believe, and was then on his +deathbed. I read to him, prayed for him, and talked to him; but though +his lips moved I did not seem to gain his attention. At last, in +despair, I said good-afternoon, and rose to go, but he suddenly caught +hold of me. + +'"Stop ye, parson," he said; "stop ye a bit, an' just hear me say my +prayers, will ye?" I thought it a singular request, but I remained, and +he began repeating the Lord's Prayer, the Creed, the collect "Lighten +our darkness," and finished up with the quaint old couplet beginning-- + + "Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, + Bless the bed that I lie on," + +and after he had finished he said triumphantly, "Hoo d'ye think I've +deean?" I said, "em gay weel. D'ye think I'll pass?" + +'Of course I said something appropriate in reply; but his attention +seemed wholly fixed on the fact that he could say his prayers correctly, +as he had been probably taught in his early childhood, and when I had +noticed his lips moving he had been conning the prayers over to himself +before repeating them for my judgment.'[3] + +[Footnote 3: Taken from fact.] + +A lugubrious shake of the head was Hugh's only answer. + +'I grant you such a state of things seems almost incredible in our +enlightened nineteenth century,' continued Mr. Lambert, 'but many of my +older brethren have curious stories to tell of their parishioners, all +of them rather amusing than otherwise. Your predecessor, Heriot--Dr. +Bailey--had a rare stock of racy anecdotes, with which he used to +entertain us on winter evenings over a glass of hot whisky toddy.' + +'To which he was slightly too much addicted,' observed Dr. Heriot. + +'Well, well, we all have our faults,' replied the vicar, charitably. 'We +will not speak against poor Bailey, who was in the main a downright +honest fellow, though he was not without his weakness. Betha used to +remonstrate with him sometimes, but it was no use; he said he was too +old to break off a habit. I don't think, Heriot, he ever went to great +lengths.' + +'Possibly not,' was the somewhat dry reply, 'but we are willing to be +amused by the old doctor's reminiscences.' + +'You know the old Westmorland custom for giving names; well, some forty +years ago George Bailey, then a young doctor new to practice, was sent +for to visit a man named John Atkinson, who lived in a house at the head +of Swale-dale. + +'Having reached the place, he knocked at the door, and asked if John +Atkinson lived there. + +'"Nay," says the woman, "we've naebody ev that nyam hereaboots." + +'"What?" says Bailey, "nobody of the name in the dale?" + +'"Nyah," was the reply, made with the usual phlegm and curtness of the +genuine Daleswoman. "There's naebody ev that nyam." + +'"Well, it is very odd," returned Bailey, in great perplexity. "This +looks like the house to which I was directed. Is there any one ill in +the dale?" + +'"Bless me, bairn," exclaimed the woman, "ye'll mean lile Geordie John. +He's my man; en's liggen en theyar," pointing to an inner room, "varra +badly. Ye'll be t'doctor, I warn't. Cum, cum yer ways in en see him. Noo +I think on't, his reet nyam is John Atkinson, byt he allus gas by lile +Geordie John. His fad'r was Geordie, ye kna, an' nobbut a varra lile +chap."' + +'Capital!' observed Dr. Heriot, as he chuckled and rubbed his hands over +this story. 'Bailey told it with spirit, I'll be bound. How well you +have mastered the dialect, Mr. Lambert.' + +'I made it my study when I first came here. Betha and I found a fund +of amusement in it. Have you ever noticed, Heriot, there is a dry, +heavy sort of wit--a certain richness and appropriateness of +language--employed by some of these Dalesmen, if one severs the grain +from the rough husk?' + +'They are not wanting in character or originality certainly, though they +are often as rugged as their own hills. I fancy Bailey had lived among +them till he had grown to regard them as the finest people and the best +society in the world.' + +'I should not wonder. I remember he told me once that he was called to a +place in Orton to see an elderly man who was sick. "Well, Betty," he +said to the wife, "how's Willy?" + +'"Why," says Betty, "I nau'nt; he's been grumbling for a few days back, +and yesterday he tyak his bed. I thout I'd send for ye. He mebbe git'nt +en oot heat or summat; byt gang ye in and see him." The doctor having +made the necessary examination came out of the sickroom, and Betty +followed him. + +'"Noo, doctor, hoo div ye find him?" + +'"Well, Betty, he's very bad." + +'"Ye dunnot say he's gangen t'dee?" + +'"Well," returned Bailey, reluctantly, "I think it is not unlikely; to +my thinking he cannot pull through." + +'"Oh, dear me," sighed Betty, "poor auld man. He's ben a varra good man +t'me, en I'll be wa to looes him, byt we mun aw gang when oor time cums. +Ye'll cum agen, doctor, en deeah what ye can for hym. We been lang +t'gither, Willy an me, that ha' we." + +'Well, Bailey continued his visits every alternate day, giving no hope, +and on one Monday apprising her that he thought Willy could not last +long. + +'Tuesday was market-day at Penrith, and Betty, who thought she would +have everything ready, sent to buy meat for the funeral dinner. + +'On Wednesday Bailey pronounced Willy rather fresher, but noticed that +Betty seemed by no means glad; and this went on for two or three visits, +until Betty's patience was quite exhausted, and in answer to the +doctor's opinion that he was fresher than he expected to have seen him +and might live a few days longer, she exclaimed-- + +'"Hang leet on him! He allus was maist purvurse man I ivver knew, an wad +nobb't du as he wod! Meat'll aw be spoilt this het weather." + +'"Never mind," said Bailey, soothingly, "you can buy some more." + +'"Buy mair, say ye?" she returned indignantly. "I'll du nowt o't mack; +he mud ha deet when he shapt on't, that mud he, en hed a dinner like +other fok, but noo I'll just put him by wi' a bit breead an cheese." + +'As a matter of fact, the meat was spoilt, and had to be buried a day or +two before the old man died.' + +Hugh Marsden's look of horror at the conclusion of the vicar's anecdote +was so comical that Dr. Heriot could not conceal his amusement; but at +this moment a singular incident put a check to the conversation. + +For the last few minutes Polly had seemed unusually restless, and +directly Mr. Lambert had finished, she communicated in an awe-stricken +whisper that she had distinctly seen the tall shadow of a man lurking +behind the wall of the old cotton-mill, as though watching their party. + +'I am sure he is after no good,' continued Polly. 'He looks almost as +tall and shadowy as Leonard in Dr. Heriot's story; and he was crouching +just as Leonard did when the phantom of the headless maiden came up the +glen.' + +Of course this little sally was received with shouts of laughter, but as +Polly still persisted in her incredible story, the young men declared +their intention of searching for the mysterious stranger, and as the +girls wished to accompany them, the little party dispersed across the +glen. + +Mildred, who was busy with one of the maids in clearing the remnants of +the feast and choosing a place where they should boil their gipsy +kettle, heard every now and then ringing peals of laughter mixed with +odd braying sounds. + +Chriss was the first to reappear. + +'Oh, Aunt Milly,' she exclaimed breathlessly, 'what do you think Polly's +mysterious Leonard has turned out to be? Nothing more or less than an +old donkey browsing at the head of the glen. Polly will never hear the +last of it.' + +'Leonard-du-Bray "In a bed of thistles,"' observed Richard, +mischievously. 'Oh, Polly, what a mare's nest you have made of it.' + +Polly looked hot and discomposed; the laugh was against her, and to put +a stop to their teasing, Mildred proposed that they should all go up to +the Fox Tower as they had planned, while she stayed behind with her +brother. + +'We will bring you back some of the shield and bladder fern,' was +Chriss's parting promise. Mildred watched them climbing up the wooded +side of the glen, Dr. Heriot and Polly first, hand-in-hand, and Olive +following more slowly with Richard and Hugh Marsden; and then she went +and sat by her brother, and they had one of their long quiet talks, till +he proposed strolling in the direction of the Fox Tower, and left her to +enjoy a solitary half-hour. + +The little fire was burning now. Etta, in her picturesque red petticoat +and blue serge dress, was gathering sticks in the thicket; the beck +flowed like a silver thread over the smooth gray stones; the sunset +clouds streaked the sky with amber and violet; the old cotton-mill stood +out gray and silent. + +Mildred, who felt strangely restless, had strolled to the mill, and was +trying to detach a delicate spray of ivy frond that was strongly rooted +in the wall, when a footstep behind her made her start, and in another +moment a shadow drew from a projecting angle of the mill itself. + +Mildred rose to her feet with a smothered exclamation half of terror and +surprise, and then turned pale with a vague presentiment of trouble. The +figure behind her had a velvet coat and fair moustache, but could the +white haggard face and bloodshot eyes belong to Roy? + +'Rex, my dear Roy, were you hiding from us?' + +'Hush, Aunt Milly, I don't want them to see me. I only want you.' + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +ROYAL + + 'This would plant sore trouble + In that breast now clear, + And with meaning shadows + Mar that sun-bright face. + See that no earth-poison + To thy soul come near! + Watch! for like a serpent + Glides that heart-disgrace.' + + Philip Stanhope Worsley. + + +'My dear boy, were you hiding from us?' + +Mildred had recovered from her brief shock of surprise; her heart was +heavy with all manner of foreboding as she noted Royal's haggard and +careworn looks, but she disguised her anxiety under a pretence of +playfulness. + +'Have you been masquerading under the title of Leonard-du-Bray, my +dear?' she continued, with a little forced laugh, holding his hot hands +between her own, for Rex was still Aunt Milly's darling; but he drew +them irritably, almost sullenly, away. There was a lowering look on the +bright face, an expression of restless misery in the blue eyes, that +went to Mildred's heart. + +'I am in no mood for jests,' he returned, bitterly; 'do I look as though +I were, Aunt Milly? Come a little farther with me behind this wall where +no one will spy upon us.' + +'They have all gone to the Fox Tower, they will not be back for an hour +yet. Look, the glen is quite empty, even Etta has disappeared; come and +let me make you some tea; you look worn out--ill, and your hands are +burning. Come, my dear, come,' but Roy resisted. + +'Let me alone,' he returned, freeing himself angrily from her soft +grasp, 'I am not going to make one of the birthday party, not even to +please the queen of the feast. Are you coming, Aunt Milly, or shall I go +back the same way I came?' + +Roy spoke rudely, almost savagely, and there was a sneer on the handsome +face. + +'Yes, I will follow you, Rex,' returned Mildred, quietly. + +What had happened to their boy--to their Benjamin? She walked by his +side without a word, till he had found a place that suited him, a rough +hillock behind a dark angle of the wall; the cotton-mill was between +them and the glen. + +'This will do,' he said, throwing himself down on the grass, while +Mildred sat down beside him. 'I had to make a run for it before. Dick +nearly found me out though. I meant to have gone away without speaking +to one of you, but I thought you saw me.' + +'Rex, dear, have you got into trouble?' she asked, gently. 'No, do not +turn from me, do not refuse to answer me; there must be some reason for +this strange behaviour, or you would not shun your best friends.' + +He shook his head, but did not answer. + +'It cannot be anything very wrong, but we must look it in the face, Roy, +whatever it is. Perhaps your father or Richard could help you better +than I could, or even--' she hesitated slightly--'Dr. Heriot.' + +Roy started convulsively. + +'He! don't mention his name. I hate--I hate him,' clenching his hand, +his white artist hand, as he spoke. + +Mildred recoiled. Was he sane? had he been ill and they had not known +it? His fevered aspect, the restless brilliancy of his eyes, his +incoherence, filled her with dismay. + +'Roy, you frighten me,' she said, faintly. 'I believe you are ill, +dear--that you do not know what you are saying;' but he laughed a +strange, bitter laugh. + +'Ill! I wish I were; I vow I should be glad to have done with it. The +life I have been leading for the last six weeks has been almost +unbearable. Do you recollect you once told me that I should take trouble +badly, that I was a moral coward and should give in sooner than other +men? Well, you were a true prophet, Aunt Milly.' + +'Dear Roy, I am trying to be patient, but do you know, you are torturing +me with this suspense.' + +He laughed again, and patted her hand half-kindly, half-carelessly. + +'You need not look so alarmed, mother Milly,' his pet name for her; 'I +have not forged a cheque, or put my name to a bill, or got into any +youthful scrape. The trouble is none of my making. I am only a coward, +and can't face it as Dick would if he were in my place, and so I thought +I would come and have a look at you all before I went away for a long, +long time. I was pretty near you all the time you were at dinner, and +heard all Dad's stories. It is laughable, isn't it, Aunt Milly?' but the +poor lad's face contracted with a look of hopeless misery as he spoke. + +'My dear, I am so glad,' returned Mildred in a reassured tone; 'never +mind the trouble; trouble can be borne, so that you have done nothing +wrong. But I feared I hardly know what, you looked and spoke so +mysteriously; and then, remember we have heard nothing about you for so +long--even Polly's letters have been unanswered.' + +'Did she say so? did she mind it? What does she think, Aunt Milly?' + +'She has not complained, at least to me, but she has looked very wistful +I notice at post-time; once or twice I fancied your silence a little +damped her happiness.' + +'She is happy then? what an ass I was to doubt it,' he groaned; 'as +though she could be proof against the fascinations of a man like Dr. +Heriot; but oh! Polly, Polly, I never could have believed you would have +thrown me over like this,' and Roy buried his face in his hands with a +hoarse sob as he spoke. + +Mildred sat almost motionless with surprise. Strange to say, she had not +in the least realised the truth; perhaps her own trouble had a little +deadened her quick instinct of sympathy, or Roy's apparently brotherly +affection had deceived her, but she had never guessed the secret of his +silence. He had seemed such a boy too, so light-hearted, that she could +hardly even now believe him the victim of a secret and hopeless +attachment. + +And then the complication. Mildred smiled again, a little smile; there +was something almost ludicrous, she thought, in the present aspect of +affairs. Was it predestined that in the Lambert family the course of +true love would not run smooth? Richard, refused by the woman he had +loved from childhood, she herself innocent, but self-betrayed, wasting +strangely under the daily torture she bore with such outward patience, +and now Roy, breaking his heart for the girl he had never really wooed. + +'Rex, dear, I have been very stupid, but I never guessed this,' waking +up from her bitter reverie as another and another hoarse sob smote upon +her ear. Poor lad, he had been right in asserting himself morally unfit +to cope with any great trouble; weak and yet sensitive, he had succumbed +at once to the blow that had shattered his happiness. 'Hush, you must +hear this like a man for her sake--for Polly's sake,' she whispered, +bending over him and trying to unclench his fingers. 'Rex, there is more +than yourself to think about.' + +'Is that all you have to say to me?' he returned, starting up; 'is that +how you comfort people whose hearts are broken, Aunt Milly? How do you +know what I feel, what I suffer, or how I hate him who has robbed me of +my Polly? for she is mine--she is--she ought to be by every law, human +and divine,' he continued, in the same frenzied voice. + +'Hush, this is wrong, you must not talk so,' replied Mildred, in the +firm soothing voice with which she would have controlled a passionate +child. 'Sit down by me again, Rex, and we will talk about this,' but he +still continued his restless strides without heeding her. + +'Who says she loves him? Let him give me my fair chance and see which +she will choose. It will not be he, I warrant you. Polly's heart is +here--here,' striking himself on the breast, 'but she is too young to +know it, and he has taken a mean advantage of her ignorance. You have +all been against me, every one of you,' continued the poor boy, in a +tone so sullen and despairing that it wrung Mildred's heart. 'You knew I +loved her, that I always loved her, and yet you never gave me a hint of +this; you have been worse than any enemy to me; it was cruel--cruel!' + +'For shame, Rex, how dare you speak to Aunt Milly so!'--and Richard +suddenly turned the angle of the wall and confronted his brother. + +'I heard your voice and the last sentence, and--and I guess the rest, +Rex,' and Richard's wrathful voice softened, and he laid his hand on +Roy's shoulder. + +The other looked at him piteously. + +'Are they all with you? have you brought them to gloat over my misery? +Speak out like a man, Dick, is Dr. Heriot behind that wall? I warn you, +I am in a dangerous mood.' + +'No one is with me,' returned Richard, in a tone of forced composure, +'they are in the woods a long way off still; I came back to see what had +become of Aunt Milly. You are playing us a sorry trick, Rex, to be +hiding away like this; it is childish, unmanly to the last degree.' + +'Ah, you nearly found me out once before, Dick; Polly was with you. I +had a good sight of her sweet face then, the little traitor. I saw the +diamonds on her finger. You little knew who Leonard was. Ah, ha!' and +Roy wrenched himself from his brother's grasp as he had done from +Mildred's, and resumed his restless walk. + +'We must get him away,' whispered Mildred. + +Richard nodded, and then he went up and spoke very gently to Roy. + +'I know all about it, Rex; we must think what must be done. But we +cannot talk here; some one else will be sure to find us out, and you are +not in a fit state for any discussion; you must come home with me at +once.' + +'Why so?' + +Richard hesitated and coloured as though with shame. Rex burst again +into noisy laughter. + +'You think I am not myself, eh! that I have had a little of the devil's +liquor,' but Richard's grave pitying glance subdued him. 'Don't be hard +on me, Dick, it was the first time, and I was so horribly weak and had +dragged myself for miles, and I wanted strength to see her again. I +hated it even as I took it, but it has answered its purpose.' + +'Richard, oh, Richard!' and at Mildred's tone of anguish Richard went up +to her and put his arms round her. + +'You must leave him to me, Aunt Milly. I must take him home; he has +excited himself and taken what is not good for him, and so he cannot +control himself as well as usual. Of course it is wrong, but he did not +mean it, I am sure. Poor Rex, he will repent of it bitterly to-morrow if +I can only persuade him to leave this place.' + +But Mildred's tears had already sobered Roy; his manner as he stood +looking at them was half ashamed and half resentful. + +'Why are you both so hard on me?' he burst out at last; 'when a fellow's +heart is broken he is not always as careful as he should be. I felt so +deadly faint climbing the hill in the sun that I took too much of what +they offered as a restorative; only Dick is such a saint that he can't +make allowances for people.' + +'I will make every allowance if you will only come home with me now,' +pleaded his brother. + +'Where--home? Oh, Dick, you should not ask it,' returned Roy, turning +very pale; 'I cannot, I must not go home while she is there. I should +betray myself--it would be worse than madness.' + +'He is right,' assented Mildred; 'he must go back to London, but you +cannot leave him, Richard.' + +'Yes, back to London--Jericho if you will; it is all one and the same to +me since I have lost my Polly. I left my traps at an inn five miles from +here where I slept, or rather woke, last night. I shouldn't wonder if +you have to carry me on your back, Dick, or leave me lying by the +roadside, if that faintness comes on again.' + +'I must get out the wagonette,' continued Richard, in a sorely perplexed +voice, 'there's no help for it. Listen to me, Rex. You do not wish to +bring unhappiness to two people besides yourself; you are too +good-hearted to injure any one.' + +'Is not that why I am hiding?' was the irritable answer, 'only first +Aunt Milly and then you come spying on me. If I could have got away I +should have done it an hour ago, but, as ill-luck would have it, I fell +over a stone and hurt my foot.' + +'Thank Heaven that we are all of the same mind! that was spoken like +yourself, Rex. Now we have not a moment to lose, they cannot be much +longer; I must get out the horses myself, as Thomas will be at his +sister's, and it will be better for him to know nothing. Follow me to +the farm as quickly as you can, while Aunt Milly goes back to the glen.' + +Roy nodded, his violence had ebbed away, and he was far too miserable +and subdued to dispute his brother's will. When Richard left them he +lingered a moment by Mildred's side. + +'I was a brute to you just now, Aunt Milly, but I know you will forgive +me.' + +'It was not you, my dear, it was your misery that spoke;' and as a faint +gleam woke in his eyes, as though her kindness touched him, she +continued earnestly--'Be brave, Rex, for all our sakes; think of your +mother, and how she would have counselled you to bear this trouble.' + +They were standing side by side as Mildred spoke, and she had her hand +on his shoulder, but a rustling in the steep wooded bank above them +arrested all further speech--her fingers closed nervously on his +coat-sleeve. + +'Hush! what was that! not Richard?' + +Roy shook his head, but there was no time to answer or to draw back into +the shelter of the old wall; they were even now perceived. Light +footsteps crunched over the dead leaves, there was the shimmer of a blue +dress, a bright face peeped at them between the branches, and then with +a low cry of astonishment Polly sprang down the bank. + +'Be brave, Rex, and think only of her.' + +Mildred had no time to whisper more, as the girl ran up to them and +caught hold of Roy's two hands with an exclamation of pleasure. + +'Dear Roy, this is so good of you, and on my birthday too. Was Aunt +Milly in your secret? did she contrive this delightful surprise? I shall +scold you both presently, but not now. Come, they are all waiting; how +they will enjoy the fun,' and she was actually trying to drag him with +gentle force, but the poor lad resisted her efforts. + +'I can't--don't ask me, Polly; please let me go. There, I did not mean +to hurt your soft, pretty hand, but you must not detain me. Aunt Milly +will tell you; at least there is nothing to tell, only I must go away +again,' finished Roy, turning away, not daring to look at her, the +muscles of his face quivering with uncontrollable emotion. + +Polly gave a terrified glance at both; even Aunt Milly looked strangely +guilty, she thought. + +'Yes, let him go, Polly,' pleaded Mildred. + +'What does it all mean, Aunt Milly? is he ill, or has something +happened? Why does he not look at me?' cried the girl, in a pained +voice. + +Roy cast an appealing glance at Mildred to help him; the poor fellow's +strength was failing under the unexpected ordeal, but Mildred's urgent +whisper, 'Go by all means, leave her to me,' reached Polly's quick ear. + +'Why do you tell him to go?' she returned resentfully, interposing +herself between them. 'You shall not go, Roy, till you have looked at me +and told me what has happened. Why, his hand is cold and shaking, just +as yours did that hot night, Aunt Milly,' and Polly held it in both hers +in her simple affectionate way. 'Have you been ill, Roy? no one has told +us;' but her lips quivered as though she had found him greatly changed. + +'Yes--no; I believe I must be ill;' but Mildred, truthful woman, +interposed-- + +'He has not been ill, Polly, but something has occurred to vex him, and +he is not quite himself just now. He has told Richard and me, and we +think the best thing will be for him to go away a little while until the +difficulty lessens.' Mildred was approaching dangerously near the truth, +but she knew how hard it would be for Polly's childish mind to grasp it, +unless Roy were weak enough to betray himself. His working features, his +strange incoherence, had already terrified the girl beyond measure. + +'What difficulty, Aunt Milly? If Roy is in trouble we must help him to +bear it. It was wrong of you and Richard to tell him to go away. He +looks ill enough for us to nurse and take care of him. Rex, dear, you +will come home with us, will you not?' + +'No, she says right; I must go,' he returned, hoarsely. 'I was wrong to +come here at all, but I could not help myself. Dear Polly, +indeed--indeed I must; Dick is waiting for me.' + +'And when will you come again?' + +'I cannot tell--not yet.' + +'And you will go away; you will leave me on my birthday without a kind +word, without wishing me joy? and you never even wrote to me.' And now +the tears seemed ready to come. + +'This is past man's endurance,' groaned Roy. 'Polly, if you cared for me +you would not torture me like this.' And he turned so deadly pale that +even Mildred grew alarmed. 'I will say anything you like if you will +only let me go.' + +'Tell me you are glad, that you are pleased; you know what I mean,' +stammered Polly. She had hung her head, and the strange paleness and +excitement were lost on her, as well as the fierce light that had come +in Roy's eyes. + +'For shame, Polly! after all, you are just like other women--I believe +you like to test your power. So I am to wish you joy of your John +Heriot, eh?' + +'Yes, Rex. I have so missed your congratulation.' + +'Well, you shall have it now. How do people wish each other joy on these +auspicious occasions? We are not sister and brother--not even cousins. I +have never kissed you in my life, Polly--never once; but now I suppose I +may.' He snatched her to him as he spoke with an impetuous, almost +violent movement, but as he stooped his head over her he suddenly drew +back. 'No, you are Heriot's now, Polly--we will shake hands.' And as she +looked up at him, scared and sorely perplexed, his lips touched her +bright hair, softly, reverently. 'There, he will not object to that. +Bless you, Polly! Don't forget me--don't forget your old friend Roy. Now +I must go, dear.' And as she still held him half unconsciously, he +quickly disengaged himself and limped painfully away. + +Mildred watched till he had disappeared, and then she came up to the +girl, who was standing looking after him with blank, wide-open eyes. + +'Come, Polly, they will be waiting for us, you know.' But there was no +sign of response. + +'They will be seeking us everywhere,' continued Mildred. 'The sun has +set, and my brother will be faint and tired with his long day. Come, +Polly, rouse yourself; we shall have need of all our wits.' + +'What did he mean?--I do not understand, Aunt Milly. Why was it wrong +for him to kiss me?--Richard did. What made him so strange? He +frightened me; he was not like Roy at all.' + +'People are not like themselves when something is troubling them. I know +all about Roy's difficulty; it will not always harass him. Perhaps he +will write to us, and then we shall feel happier.' + +'Why did he not tell me himself?' returned the girl, plaintively. 'No +one has ever come between us before. Roy tells me everything; I know all +his fancies, only they never come to anything. It is very hard that I am +to be less to him now.' + +'It is the way of the world, little one,' returned Mildred, gravely. +'Roy cannot expect to monopolise you, now that another has a claim on +your time and thoughts.' + +'But Dr. Heriot would not mind. You do not know him, Aunt Milly. He is +so good, so above all that sort of thing. He always said that he thought +our friendship for each other so unique and beautiful--he understood me +so well when I said Roy was just like my own, own brother.' + +'Dear Polly, you must not fret if Roy does not see it in quite the same +light at first,' continued Mildred, hesitating. 'He may feel--I do not +say he does--as though he has lost a friend.' + +'I will write and undeceive him,' she returned, eagerly. 'He shall not +think that for a moment. But no, that will not explain all his sorrowful +looks and strangeness. He seemed as though he wanted to speak, and yet +he shunned me. Oh, Aunt Milly, what shall I do? How can I be happy and +at ease now I know Roy is in trouble?' + +'Polly, you must listen to me,' returned Mildred, taking her hand +firmly, but secretly at her wits' end; even now she could hear voices +calling to them from the farther side of the glen. 'This little +complication--this difficulty of Roy's--demands all our tact. Roy will +not like the others to know he has been here.' + +'No! Are you sure of that, Aunt Milly?' fixing her large dark eyes on +Mildred. + +'Quite sure--he told me so himself; so we must guard his confidence, you +and I. I must make some excuse for Richard, who will be back presently; +and you must help me to amuse the others, and make time pass till he +comes back.' + +'Will he be long gone? What is he doing with Roy?' pushing back her hair +with strangely restless fingers--a trick of Polly's when in trouble or +perplexity; but Mildred smoothed the thick wild locks reprovingly. + +'He will drive him for a mile or two until they meet some vehicle; he +will not be longer than he can help. Roy has hurt his foot, and cannot +walk well, and is tired besides.' + +'Tired! he looks worn out; but perhaps we had better not talk any more +now, Aunt Milly,' continued Polly, brushing some furtive tears from her +eyes; 'there is Dr. Heriot coming to find us.' + +'We were just going to scour the woods for you two,' he observed, eyeing +their discomposed faces, half comically and half anxiously. 'Were you +still looking for Leonard-du-Bray?' But as Polly faltered and turned +crimson under his scrutinising glance, Mildred answered for her. + +'Polly was looking for me, I believe. We have been sad truants, I know, +and shall be punished by cold tea.' + +'And Richard--have you not seen Richard?' he demanded in surprise. + +'Yes, but he left me before Polly made her appearance; he has gone +farther on, and will be back presently. Polly is dreadfully tired, I am +afraid,' she continued, as she saw how anxiously he was eyeing the +girl's varying colour; but Polly, weary and over-anxious, answered with +unwonted irritability-- + +'Every one is tired, more or less; these days are apt to become stupid +in the end.' + +'Well, well,' he returned, kindly, 'you and Aunt Milly shall rest and +have your tea, and I will walk up to the farm and order the wagonette; +it is time for us to be going.' + +'No, no!' exclaimed Polly, in sudden fright at the mistake she had made. +'Have you forgotten your promise to show us the glen in the moonlight?' + +'But, my child, you are so tired.' But she interrupted him. + +'I am not tired at all,' she said, contradicting herself. 'Aunt Milly, +make him keep his promise. One can only have one birthday in a year, and +I must have my own way in this.' + +'I shall take care you have it very seldom,' he returned, fondly. But +she only shivered and averted her face in reply. + +During the hour that followed, while they waited in suspense for +Richard, Polly continued in the same variable mood. She laughed and +talked feverishly; a moment's interval in the conversation seemed to +oppress her; when, in the twilight, Dr. Heriot's hand approached hers +with a caressing movement, she drew herself away almost petulantly, and +then went on with her nonsense. + +Mildred's brow furrowed with anxiety as she watched them. She could see +Dr. Heriot was perplexed as well as pained by the girl's fitful mood, +though he bore it with his usual gentleness. After her childish repulse +he had been a little silent, but no one but Mildred had noticed it. + +The others were talking merrily among themselves. Olive and Mr. Marsden +were discussing the merits and demerits of various Christian names which +according to their ideas were more or less euphonious. The subject +seemed to interest Dr. Heriot, and during a pause he turned to Polly, +and said, in a half-laughing, half-serious tone-- + +'Polly, when we are married, do you always mean to call me Dr. Heriot?' + +For a moment she looked up at him with almost a scared expression. 'Yes, +always,' she returned at last, very quietly. + +'But why so, my child,' he replied, gravely, amusing himself at her +expense, 'when John Heriot is my name?' + +'Because--because--oh, I don't know,' was the somewhat distressed +answer. 'Heriot is very pretty, but John--only Aunt Milly likes John; +she says it is beautiful--her favourite name.' + +It was only one of Polly's random speeches, and at any other time would +have caused Mildred little embarrassment; but anxious, jaded, and weary +as she was, her feelings were not so well under control, and as Dr. +Heriot raised his eyes with a pleased expression as though to hear it +corroborated by her own lips, a burning blush, that seemed to scorch +her, suddenly rose to her face. + +'Polly, how can you be so foolish?' she began, with a trace of real +annoyance in her clear tones; but then she stopped, and corrected +herself with quiet good sense. 'I believe, after all, it is my favourite +name. You know it belonged to the beloved disciple.' + +'Thank you,' was Dr. Heriot's low reply, and the subject dropped; but +Mildred, sick at heart, wondered if her irritability had been noticed. +The pain of that dreadful blush seemed to scorch her still. What would +he think of her? + +Her fears were not quite groundless. Dr. Heriot had noticed her sudden +embarrassment, and had quickly changed the subject; but more than once +that night he went over the brief conversation, and questioned himself +as to the meaning of that strange sudden flush on Mildred Lambert's +face. + +Most of the party were growing weary of their enforced stay, when +Richard at last made his appearance in the glen. The moon had risen, the +heavy autumnal damps had already saturated the place, the gipsy fire had +burnt down to its last ember, and Etta sat shivering beside it in her +red cloak. + +Richard's apologies were ample and sounded sincere, but he offered no +explanation of his strange desertion. The wagonette was waiting, he +said, and they had better lose no time in packing up. He thought even +Polly must have had enough of her beloved cotton-mill. + +Polly made no answer; with Richard's reappearance her forced spirits +seemed to collapse; she stood by listlessly while the others lifted the +hampers and wraps; when the little cavalcade started she followed with a +step so slow and flagging that Dr. Heriot paused more than once. + +'Oh, Heartsease, how tired you are!' he said, pityingly, 'and I have not +a hand to give you. Wrap yourself in my plaid, darling. I have seen you +shiver more than once.' But she shook her head, and the plaid still +trailed from her arm over the dewy grass. + +But Mildred noticed one thing. She saw, when the wagonette had started +along the dark country road, that Dr. Heriot had taken the plaid and +wrapped it round the weary girl; but she saw something else--she saw +Polly steal timidly closer to the side of her betrothed husband, saw the +kind arm open to receive her, and the little pale face suddenly lay +itself down on it with a look of weariness and grief that went to her +heart. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +'IS THAT LETTER FOR ME, AUNT MILLY?' + + 'When dark days have come, and friendship + Worthless seemed, and life in vain, + That bright friendly smile has sent me + Boldly to my task again; + + It has smiled on my successes, + Raised me when my hopes were low, + And by turns has looked upon me + With all the loving eyes I know.' + + Adelaide Anne Procter. + + +There was a long troubled talk between Mildred and Richard that night. +Richard, who had borne his own disappointment so bravely, seemed utterly +downcast on his brother's account. + +'I would rather have had this happen to any of us but Roy,' he said, +walking up and down Mildred's room that night. + +'Hush, Richard, she will hear us,' returned Mildred, anxiously; and then +he came and rested his elbow on the sill beside her, and they talked in +a low subdued key, looking over the shadowy fells and the broad level of +moonlight that lay beneath them. + +'You do not know Roy as well as I do. I believe he is physically as well +as morally unfit to cope with a great sorrow; where other men fight, he +succumbs too readily.' + +'You have your trouble too, Cardie; he should remember that.' + +'I have not lost hope, Aunt Milly,' he returned, gravely. 'I am happier +than Rex--far happier; for it is no wrong for me to love Ethel. I have a +right to love her, so long as no one else wins her. Roy will have it +Polly has jilted him for Heriot.' + +'Jilted him! that child!' + +'Yes, he maintains that she loves him best, only that she is unconscious +of her own feelings. He declares that to his belief she has never really +given her heart to Heriot. I am afraid he is right in declaring the +whole thing has been patched up too hastily. It has always seemed to me +as though Polly were too young to know her own mind.' + +'Some girls are married at eighteen.' + +'Yes, but not Polly; look what a child she is, and how quiet a life she +has led for the last three years; she has seen no one but ourselves, +Marsden, and Heriot; do you know, gentle as he is, she seems half afraid +of him.' + +'That is only natural in her position.' + +'You think it does not augur want of love? Well, you may be right; I +only profess to understand one girl,'--with a sigh--'and I can read her +like a book; but Roy, Aunt Milly--what must we do about Roy?' + +Mildred shook her head dejectedly. + +'He must not come here under the circumstances, it would not be possible +or right; he has done mischief enough already.' + +'Surely he did not betray himself?' in Richard's sternest voice; 'he +assured me over and over again that he had not said a word which Dr. +Heriot might not hear.' + +'No; he commanded himself wonderfully; he only forgot himself once, and +then, poor lad, he recollected himself in time,--but she must have +noticed how badly it went with him--there was heart-break in his face.' + +'I had sad work with him for the first two miles,' returned Richard. 'I +was half afraid of leaving him at all, he looked and spoke so wildly, +only my threat of telling my father brought him to reason; he begged--he +implored me to keep his secret, and that no one but you and I should +ever know of his madness.' + +'There would be nothing gained by telling my brother,' returned Mildred. + +'Certainly not; it would be perfectly useless, and fret him beyond +measure; he would take Roy's trouble to heart, and have no pleasure in +anything. How thankful I am, Aunt Milly, that I have already planned my +London journey for the day after to-morrow.' + +'Yes, indeed, I shall feel easier when he is under your care.' + +'I must invent some excuse for being absent most of the day to-morrow; I +cannot bear to think of him shut up in that wretched inn, and unable to +stir out for fear of being recognised. He was very lame, I remember; I +must find out if he has really injured his foot.' + +'Do you think I might go with you, Cardie?' for Mildred was secretly +yearning to comfort her boy, but Richard instantly put a veto on her +proposal. + +'It would not be safe, Aunt Milly; it will excite less questioning if I +go alone; you must be content to trust him to me. I will bring you a +faithful report to-morrow evening;' and as Mildred saw the wisdom of the +reasoning she resolved to abide by it. + +But she passed a miserable night. Roy's haggard face and fierce reckless +speeches haunted her. She dreaded to think of the time when Richard +would be obliged to return to Oxford, and leave Roy to battle alone with +his misery. She wondered what Richard would think if she were to propose +going up to him for a month or two; she was becoming conscious herself +of a need of change,--a growing irritability of the nerves chafed her +calm spirit, daily suffering and suppression were wearing the brave +heart sadly. Mildred, who ailed nothing ordinarily, had secret attacks +of palpitation and faintness, which would have caused alarm if any one +had guessed it, but she kept her own counsel. + +Once, indeed, Dr. Heriot had questioned her. 'You do not look as well as +you used, Miss Lambert; but I suppose I am not to be consulted?' and +Mildred had shaken her head laughingly. But here was work for the +ministering woman--to forget her own strange sorrow in caring for +another;--Roy needed her more than any one; Olive could be safely left +in charge of the others. Mildred fell asleep at last planning long +winter evenings in the young artist's studio. + +The next day seemed more than usually long. Polly, who looked as though +she had not slept all night, spent her time in listlessly wandering +about the house and garden, much to Olive's mild wonder. + +'I do wish you would get something to do, Polly,' she said more than +once, looking up from her writing-table at the sound of the tapping +heels; 'you have not practised those pieces Dr. John ordered from +London.' + +'Olive is right; you should try and occupy yourself, my dear,' observed +Mildred, looking up from her marking; piles of socks lay neatly beside +her, Mr. Lambert's half-stitched wrist-band was in her lap. She looked +with soft reproving eyes at poor restless Polly, her heart all the time +very full of pity. + +'How can you ask me to play?' returned Polly, in a resentful tone. 'Play +when Roy was ill or in some dreadful trouble--was that their love for +him? When Mildred next looked up the girl was no longer standing +watching her with sad eyes; across the beck, through the trees, she +could see the shimmer of a blue dress; a forlorn young figure strolled +aimlessly down the field path and paused by the weir. Of what was she +thinking? Were her thoughts at all near the truth--'Don't forget me; +think of your old friend Roy!'--were those words, said in the saddest +voice she had ever heard, still ringing in her ears. + +It was late in the evening when Richard returned, and he beckoned +Mildred softly out of the room. Polly, who was sitting beside Dr. +Heriot, followed them with wistful eyes, but neither of them noticed +her. + +Richard gave a very unsatisfactory report. He found Roy looking ill in +body as well as in mind, and suffering great pain from his foot, which +was severely contused, though he obstinately refused to believe anything +was really the matter, and had firmly declared his intention of +accompanying his brother to London. His excitement had quite subsided, +but the consequent depression was very great. Richard believed he had +not slept, from the pain of his foot and mental worry, and being so near +home only made his desolation harder to bear. + +He had pencilled a little line to Polly, which he had begged Richard to +bring with his love, and at the same time declared he would never see +her again when she was once Dr. Heriot's wife; and, when Richard had +remonstrated against the weakness and moral cowardice of adopting such a +line of action, had flamed up into his old fierceness; she had made him +an exile from his home and all that he loved, he had no heart now for +his profession, he knew his very hand had lost its cunning; but not for +that could he love her the less or wish her ill. 'She is Polly after +all,' he had finished piteously, 'the only girl I ever loved or cared to +love, and now she is going near to spoil my whole life!' + +'It was useless to argue with him,' Richard said; 'everything like +advice seemed to irritate him, and no amount of sympathy could lull the +intolerable pain.' He found it answer better to remain silent and let +him talk out his trouble, without trying to stem the bitter current. It +went to Mildred's heart to hear how the poor lad at the last had broken +down utterly at bidding his brother good-bye. + +'Don't leave me, Dick; I am not fit to be left,' he had said; and then +he had thrown himself down on the miserable couch, and had hidden his +face in his arms. + +'And the note, Richard?' + +'Here it is; he said you might read it, that there was not a word in it +that the whole world might not see--she could show it to Heriot if she +liked.' + +'All the same, I wish he had not written it,' returned Mildred, +doubtfully, as she unfolded the slip of paper. + +'Dear Polly,' it began, 'I fear you must have thought me very strange +and unkind last evening--your reproachful eyes are haunting me now. I +cannot bear you to misunderstand me. "No one shall come between us." Ah, +I remember you said that; it was so like you, dear--so like my Polly! +Now you must try not to think hardly of me--a great trouble has befallen +me, as Aunt Milly and Richard know, and I must go away to bear it; no +one can help me to bear it; your little fingers cannot lighten it, +Polly--your sympathy could not avail me; it is my own burden, and I must +bear it alone. You must not fret if we do not meet for some time--it is +better so, far better. I have my work; and, dear, I pray that you may be +very happy with the man you love (if he be the one you love, Polly).' + +'Oh, Richard, he ought not to have said that!' + +'She will not understand; go on, Aunt Milly.' + +'But there can be no doubt of that, he is a good man, almost worthy of +my Polly; but I must not say that any longer, for you are Heriot's Polly +now, are you not? but whose ever you are, God bless you, dear.--Roy.' + +Mildred folded the letter sadly. + +'He has betrayed himself in every line,' she said, slowly and +thoughtfully. 'Richard, it will break my heart to do it, but I think +Polly ought not to see this; we must keep it from her, and one day we +must tell Roy.' + +'I was afraid you might say so, but if you knew how he pleaded that this +might be given to her; he seemed to think it would hinder her fretting. +"She cares for me more than any of you know--more than she knows +herself," he said, as he urged me to take it.' + +'What must we do? I It will set her thinking. No, Richard, it is too +venturesome an experiment.' + +But Mildred's wise precautions were doomed to be frustrated, for at that +moment Polly quietly opened the door and confronted them. + +The two conspirators moved apart somewhat guiltily. + +'Am I interrupting you? I knocked, but no one answered. Aunt Milly looks +disconcerted,' said Polly, eyeing them both with keen inquisitive +glance. 'I--I only wanted to know if Richard has brought me a message or +note from Roy?' + +Richard hesitated and looked at Mildred. This business was making him +anxious; he would fain wash his hands of it. + +'Why do you not answer?' continued the girl, palpitating a little. 'Is +that letter for me, Aunt Milly?' and as Mildred reluctantly handed it to +her, a reproachful colour overspread Polly's face. + +'Were you keeping this from me? I thought people's letters were sacred +property,' continued the little lady, proudly. 'I did not think you +could do such a thing, Aunt Milly.' + +'Dear Polly!' remonstrated Richard; but Mildred interposed with quiet +dignity-- + +'Polly should be just, even though she is unhappy. Roy wished me to read +his letter, and I have done so.' + +'Forgive me!' returned Polly, almost melting into tears. 'I know I ought +not to have spoken so, but it has been such a miserable day,' and she +leant against Mildred as she read the note. + +She read it once--twice--without comment, and then her features began to +work. + +'Dear Aunt Milly, how unhappy he is--he--Roy; he cannot have done +anything wrong?' + +'No, no, my precious; of course not!' + +'Then why must we not help him to bear it?' + +'We can pray for him, Polly.' + +'Yes, yes, but I cannot understand it,' piteously. 'I have always been +Roy's friend--always, and now he has made Richard and you his +confidants.' + +'We are older and wiser, you see,' began Richard, with glib hypocrisy, +which did not become him. + +Polly stamped her little foot with impatience. + +'Don't, Richard. I will not have you talk to me as though I were a +child. I have a right to know this; you are all treating me badly. Roy +would have told me, I know he would, if Aunt Milly had not come between +us!' and she darted a quick reproachful look at Mildred. + +'It is Polly who is hard on us, I think,' returned Mildred, putting her +arm gently round the excited girl; and at the fond tone Polly's brief +wrath evaporated. + +'I cannot help it,' she returned, hiding her face on Mildred's shoulder; +'it is all so wretched, everything is spoiled. Roy is not pleased that I +am going to be married, he seems angry--put out about it; it is not +that--it cannot be that that is the matter with him? Why do you not +answer?' she continued, impatiently, looking at them both with wide-open +innocent eyes. 'Roy cannot be jealous?' + +Mildred would have given worlds to have been able to answer No, but, +unused to evasion of any kind, the prudent falsehood died a natural +death upon her lips. + +'My dear Polly, what makes you so fanciful?' she began with difficulty; +but it was enough,--Mildred's face could not deceive, and that moment's +hesitating silence revealed the truth to the startled girl; her faithful +friend was hurt, jealous. + +'You see yourself that Rex wants you to be happy,' continued Mildred, +somewhat inconsequently. + +'I shall be happy if he be so--not unless,' replied the girl, a little +sadly. + +Her pretty pink colour had faded, her hands dropped from Mildred's +shoulder; she stood for a long time quiet with her lips apart, her young +head drooping almost to her breast. + +'Shall you answer his letter, Polly?' asked Richard at last, trying to +rouse her. + +'Yes--no,' she faltered, turning very pale. 'Give my love to him, +Richard--my dear love. I--I will write presently,' and so saying, she +slowly and dejectedly left the room. + +'Aunt Milly, do you think she guesses?' whispered Richard, when she had +gone. + +'Heaven only knows, Richard! This is a wretched business; there seems +nothing but trouble everywhere,' and Mildred almost wrung her hands. +Richard thought he had never seen her so agitated--so unlike herself. + +The days and weeks that followed tried Mildred sorely; heavy autumnal +rains had set in; wet grass, dripping foliage, heaps of rotting leaves +saturated with moisture, met her eyes daily. A sunless, lurid atmosphere +surrounded everything; by and by the rain ceased, and a merciless wind +drove across the fells, drying up the soddened pools, whirling the last +red leaves from the bare stems, and threatening to beat in the vicarage +windows. + +A terrible scarping wind, whose very breath was bitterness to flesh and +blood, blatant and unresting, filled the valley with a strange voice and +life. + +The river was full to the brim now; the brown water that rushed below +the terrace carried away sticks and branches, and light eddying leaves; +great fires roared up the vicarage chimneys, while the girls sat and +shivered beside them. + +Those nights were terrible to Mildred--the wild stir and tumult, the +fury of the great rushing wind, fevered her blood with strange +excitement, and drove sleep from her pillow, or, when weariness overcame +her, haunted her brain with painful images. + +Never had the tranquil soul so lacked tranquillity, never had daily +life, never had the many-folded hours, held such torture for her. + +'I must have change, or I shall be ill,' she thought, as she +contemplated her wan and bloodless exterior morning after morning. +'Anything but that--anything but having him pitying me.' + +Relief by his hand might be sweet indeed; but a doubt of her own power +of self-control, should weakness seize upon her, oppressed her like a +nightmare, and the longing to escape from her daily ordeal of suffering +amounted to actual agony. + +Morning after morning she opened Richard's letters, in the hope that her +proposal had been accepted, but each morning some new delay or object +fretted her. + +Richard had remained in London up to the last possible moment. Roy's +injured foot had rendered him dependent on his brother's nursing; his +obstinacy had led to a great deal of unnecessary delay and suffering; +wakeful and harassed nights had undermined his strength, and made him so +nervous and irritable by day, that only patience and firm management +could effect any improvement; he was so reckless that it required +coaxing to induce him to take the proper remedies, or to exert himself +in the least; he had not yet roused himself, or resumed his painting, +and all remonstrances were at present unavailing. + +Mildred sighed over this fresh evidence of Roy's weakness and +instability of purpose, and then she remembered that he was suffering, +perhaps ill. No one knew better than herself the paralysing effects on +will and brain caused by anxiety and want of sleep; some stimulus, +stronger than she or Richard could administer, was needful to rouse +Roy's dormant energies. + +Help came when they had least looked for it. + +'Is Roy painting anything now?' asked Polly suddenly, one day, when she +was alone with Mildred. + +[Mildred was writing to Richard; his last letter lay open beside her on +the table. Polly had glanced at it once or twice, but she had not +questioned Mildred concerning its contents. Polly had fallen into very +quiet ways lately; the pretty pink colour had never returned to her +face, the light footstep was slower now, the merry laugh was less often +heard, a sweet wistful smile had replaced it; she was still the same +busy active Polly, gentle and affectionate, as of old, but some change, +subtle yet undefinable, had passed over the girl. Dr. Heriot liked the +difference, even though he marvelled at it. 'Polly is looking quite the +woman,' he would say presently. Mildred paused, a little startled over +Polly's abrupt question.] + +'Richard does not say; it is not in his letter, my dear,' she stammered. + +'Not in this one, perhaps, but in his last,' persisted Polly. 'Try to +remember, Aunt Milly; how does Richard say that Rex occupies himself?' + +'I am afraid he is very idle,' returned Mildred, reluctantly. + +Polly coloured, and looked distressed. + +'But his foot is better; he is able to stand, is he not?' + +'I believe so. Richard certainly said as much as that.' + +'Then it is very wrong for him to be losing time like this; he will not +have his picture in the Academy after all. Some one ought to write and +remind him,' faltered Polly, with a little heat. + +'I have done so more than once, and Richard is for ever lecturing. Roy +is terribly desultory, I am afraid.' + +'Indeed you are wrong, Aunt Milly,' persisted the girl earnestly. 'Roy +loves his work--dearly--dearly--it is only his foot, and--' she broke +down, recovered herself, and hurried on-- + +'I think it would be a good thing if Dad Fabian were to go and talk to +him. I will write to him--yes, and I will write to Roy.' + +Mildred did not venture to dissuade her; she had a notion that perhaps +Polly's persuasion might be more efficacious than Richard's arguments. +She took it quite as a matter of course, when, half an hour later, Polly +laid the little note down beside her. + +'There, you may read it,' she said, hurriedly. 'Let it go in Richard's +letter; he may read it too, if he likes.' + +It was very short, and covered the tiniest sheet of note-paper; the +pretty handwriting was not quite so steady as usual. + +'My dearest brother Roy,' it began--never had she called him that +before--'I have never written to thank you for your note. It was a dear, +kind note, and I love you for writing it; do not be afraid of my +misunderstanding or thinking you unkind; you could not be that to any +one. I am so thankful your poor foot is better; it has been terrible to +think of your suffering all this time. I am so afraid it must have +interfered with your painting, and that you have not got on well with +the picture you began when you were here. Roy, dear, you must promise to +work at it harder than ever, and as soon as you are able. I am sure it +will be the best picture you have ever done, and I have set my heart on +seeing it in the Academy next year; but unless you work your hardest, +there will be no chance of that. I have asked Dad Fabian to come and +lecture you. You and he must have one of your clever art-talks, and then +you must get out your palette and brushes, and set to work on that +pretty little girl's red cloak. + +'Do, Roy--do, my dear brother. Your loving friend, POLLY. + +'Be kind to Dad Fabian. Make much of the dear old man. Remember he is +Polly's friend.' + +It was the morning after the receipt of this letter, so Richard informed +Mildred, that Roy crept languidly from the sofa, where he spent most of +his days, and sat for a long time fixedly regarding the unfinished +canvas before him. + +Richard made no observation, and shortly left the room. When he returned +an hour afterwards, Roy was working at a child's drapery, with +compressed lips and frowning brow. + +He tossed back his fair hair with the old irritable movement as his +brother smiled approval. + +'Well done, Roy; there is nothing like making a beginning after all.' + +'I hate it as much as ever,' was the sullen answer. 'I am only doing it +because--she told me--and I don't mean to disappoint her. I am her +slave; she might put her pretty foot on my neck if she liked. Ah, Polly, +Polly, what a poor fool you have made of me.' And Roy put his head on +the easel, and fairly groaned. + +But there was no shirking labour after that. Roy spent long moody hours +over his work, while Richard sat by with his books. An almost unbroken +silence prevailed in the young artist's studio. 'The sweet whistler' in +Dr. Heriot's little glass-house no longer existed; a half-stifled sigh, +or an ejaculation of impatience, only reached Richard's ears from time +to time; but Roy seemed to have no heart for conversation,--nothing +interested him, his attention flagged after the first few minutes. + +Richard was obliged to go back to Oxford at the beginning of the term; +but Dad Fabian took his place. Mildred learnt to her dismay that the old +man was located at the cottage, at Roy's own wish, and was likely to +remain for some weeks. How Mildred's heart sank at the news; her plan +had fallen to the ground; the change and quiet for which she was pining +were indefinitely postponed. + +No one but Dr. Heriot guessed how Mildred's strength was failing; but +his well-meant inquiries were evidently so unpalatable that he forbore +to press them. Only once or twice he hinted to Mr. Lambert that he +thought his sister was looking less strong than usual, and wanted change +of air. + +'Heriot tells me that you are not looking well--that you want a change, +Mildred,' her brother said to her one day, and, to his surprise, she +looked annoyed, and answered more hastily than her wont-- + +'There is nothing the matter with me, at least nothing of consequence. I +am not one of those who are always fancying themselves ill.' + +'But you are thinner. Yes, I am sure he is right; you are thinner, +Mildred.' + +'What nonsense, Arnold; he has put that in your head. + +By and by I shall be glad of a little change, I daresay. When Mr. Fabian +leaves Roy, I mean to take his place.' + +'A good idea,' responded Mr. Lambert, warmly; 'it will be a treat for +Rex, and will do you good at the same time. I was thinking of running up +myself after Christmas. One sees so little of the boy, and his letters +are so short and unsatisfactory; he seems a little dull, I fancy.' + +'Mr. Fabian will cheer him up,' replied Mildred, evasively. She was +thankful when her brother went back to his study. She felt more than +usually oppressed and languid that day, though she would not own it to +herself; her work wearied her, and the least effort to talk jarred the +edge of her nerves. + +'How dreadful it is to feel so irritable and cross, as I have done +lately,' she thought. 'Perhaps after all he is right, and I am not so +strong as usual; but I cannot have them all fancying me ill. The bare +idea is intolerable. If I am going to be ill, I hope I may know it, that +I may get away somewhere, where his kindness will not kill me.' + +She shivered here, partly from the thought, and partly from the opening +of the door. A keen wind whistled through the passage, a rush of cold +air followed Polly as she entered. Dr. Heriot was with her. + +His cordial greeting was as hearty as ever. + +'All alone, and in the dark, and positively doing nothing; how unlike +Aunt Milly,' he said, in his cheerful quizzical voice; and kneeling down +on the rug, he stirred the fire, and threw on another log, rousing a +flame that lighted up the old china and played on the ebony chairs and +cabinet. + +The shadows had all fled now, the firelight gleamed warmly on the couch, +where Mildred was sitting in her blue dress, and on Dr. Heriot's dark +face as he threw himself down in the easy-chair that, as he said, looked +so inviting. + +'Polly is tired, and so am I. We have been having an argument that +lasted us all the way from Appleby.' And he leant back his head on the +cushions, and looked up lazily at Polly as she stood beside him in her +soft furs, swinging her hat in her hand and gazing into the fire. +'Polly, do be reasonable and sit down!' he exclaimed, coaxingly. + +'I cannot, I shall be late for tea; I--I--do not wish to say anything +more about it,' she panted, somewhat unsteadily. + +'Nay, Heartsease,' he returned, gravely, 'this is hardly using me well; +let us refer the case to Aunt Milly. This naughty child,' he continued, +imprisoning her hand, as she still stood beside him--and Mildred noticed +now that she seemed to lean against the chair for support--'this naughty +Polly of ours is giving me trouble; she will have it she is too young to +be married.' + +Mildred put her hand suddenly to her heart; a troublesome palpitation +oppressed her breathing. Polly hung her head, and then a sudden +resolution seized her. + +'Let me go to Aunt Milly. I want to speak to her,' she said, wrenching +herself gently from his hold; and as he set her free, she dropped on the +rug at Mildred's side. + +'You must not come to me to help you, Polly,' said Mildred, with a faint +smile; 'you must be guided in this by Dr. Heriot's wishes.' + +'Ah, I knew you would be on my side, Miss Lambert; but you have no idea +how obstinate she is. She declares that nothing will induce her to marry +until her nineteenth birthday.' + +'A whole year!' repeated Mildred, in surprise. She felt like a prisoner, +to whom the bitterness of death was past, exposed to the torturing +suspense of a long reprieve. + +'Oh, Aunt Milly, ask him not to press me,' pleaded the girl; 'he is so +good and patient in everything else, but he will not listen to me in +this; he wants me to go home to him now, this Christmas.' + +'Why should we wait?' replied Dr. Heriot, with an unusual touch of +bitterness in his voice. 'I shall never grow younger; my home is +solitary enough, Heaven knows; and in spite of all my kind friends here, +I have to endure many lonely hours. Polly, if you loved me, I think you +would hardly refuse.' + +'He says right,' whispered Mildred, laying her cold hand on the girl's +head. 'It is your duty; he has need of you.' + +'I cannot,' replied Polly, in a choked voice; but as she saw the cloud +over her lover's brow, she came again to his side, and knelt down beside +him. + +'I did not mean to grieve you, dear; but you will wait, will you not?' + +'For what reason, Polly?' in a sterner voice than she had ever heard +from him before. + +'For many reasons; because--because--' she hesitated, 'I am young, and +want to grow older and wiser for your sake; because--' and now a low sob +interrupted her words, 'though I love you--dearly--ah, so dearly--I want +to love you more, as I know I shall every day. You must not be angry +with me if I try your patience a little.' + +'I am not angry,' he repeated, slowly, 'but your manner troubles me. Are +you sure you do not repent our engagement--that you love me, Polly?' + +'Yes, yes; please do not say such things,' clinging to him, and crying +as though her heart would break. + +They had almost forgotten Mildred, shrinking back in the corner of her +couch. + +'Hush! Heartsease, my darling--hush! you distress me,' soothing her with +the utmost tenderness. 'We will talk of this again; you shall not be +hampered or vexed by me. I am not so selfish as that, Polly.' + +'No, you are goodness itself,' she replied, remorsefully; and now she +kissed his hand--oh, so gratefully. 'But you must never say that +again--never--never.' + +'What?' + +'That I do not love you; it is not the truth; it cannot be, you know. +You do not think it?' looking up fearfully into his face. + +'I think you love me a little,' he answered, lightly--too lightly, +Mildred thought, for the gloomy look had not passed away from his eyes. + +'He is disappointed; he thinks as I do, that perfect love ought to cast +out fear,' she said to herself. + +But whatever were his thoughts, he did not give utterance to them, but +only seemed bent on soothing Polly's agitation. When he had succeeded, +he sent her away, to get rid of all traces of tears, as he said, but as +the door closed on her, Mildred noticed a weary look crossed his face. + +How her heart yearned to comfort him! + +'Right or wrong, I suppose I must abide by her decision, he said at +last, speaking more to himself than to her. That roused her. + +'I do not think so,' she returned, speaking with her old energy. 'Give +her a little time to get used to the idea, and then speak to her again. +The thought of Christmas has startled her. Perhaps Easter would frighten +her less.' + +'That is just it. Why should it frighten her?' he returned, doubtfully. +'She has known me now for three years. I am no stranger to her; she has +always been fond of me; she has told me so over and over again. No,' he +continued, decidedly, 'I will not press her to come till she wishes it. +I am no boy that cannot bear a disappointment. I ought to be used to +loneliness by this time.' + +'No, no; she shall not treat you so, Dr. Heriot. I will not have it. +I--some one will prevent it; you shall not be left lonely for another +year--you, so good and so unselfish.' But here Mildred's excitement +failed; a curious numb feeling crept over her; she fancied she saw a +surprised look on Dr. Heriot's face, that he uttered an exclamation of +concern, and then she knew no more. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +COOP KERNAN HOLE + + 'The great and terrible Land + Of wilderness and drought + Lies in the shadows behind me-- + For the Lord hath brought me out. + + 'The great and terrible river + I stood that night to view + Lies in the shadows before me-- + But the Lord will bear me through.'--Poems by R. M. + + +Mildred felt a little giddy and confused when she opened her eyes. + +'Is anything the matter? I suppose I have been a little faint; but it is +nothing,' she said, feebly. Her head was on a soft pillow; her face was +wet with cold, fragrant waters; Polly was hanging over her with a +distressed expression; Dr. Heriot's hand was on her wrist. + +'Hush, you must not talk,' he said, with a grave, professional air, 'and +you must drink this,' so authoritatively that Mildred could not choose +but to obey. 'It is nothing of consequence,' he continued, noticing an +anxious look on her face; 'the room was hot, and our talk wearied you. I +noticed you were very pale when we came in.' And Mildred felt relieved, +and asked no more questions. + +She was very thankful for the kindness that shielded her from all +questioning and comment. When Dr. Heriot had watched the reviving +effects of the cordial, and had satisfied himself that there would be no +return of the faintness, he quietly but peremptorily desired that Polly +should leave her. 'You would like to be perfectly alone for a little +while, would you not?' he said, as he adjusted the rug over her feet and +placed the screen between her and the firelight, and Mildred thanked him +with a grateful glance. How could he guess that silence was what her +exhausted nerves craved more than anything? + +But Dr. Heriot was not so impervious as he seemed. He was aware that +some nervous malady, caused by secret anxiety or hidden care, was +wasting Mildred's fine constitution. The dilated pupils of the eyes, the +repressed irritability of manner, the quick change of colour, with other +signs of mental disturbance, had long ago attracted his professional +notice, and he had racked his brains to discover the cause. + +'She has over-exerted herself, or else she has some trouble,' he said to +himself that night, as he sat beside his solitary fire. She had crept +away to her own room during the interval of peace that had been allowed +her, and he had not suffered them to disturb her. 'I will come and see +her to-morrow,' he had said to Olive; 'let her be kept perfectly quiet +until then;' and Olive, who knew from experience the soothing effects of +his prescription, mounted guard herself over Mildred's room, and forbade +Polly or Chriss to enter. + +Dr. Heriot had plenty of food for meditation that night. In spite of his +acquiescence in Polly's decision, he felt chilled and saddened by the +girl's persistence. + +For the first time he gravely asked himself, Had he made a mistake? Was +she too young to understand his need of sympathy? Would it come to this, +that after all she would disappoint him? As he looked round the empty +room a strange bitterness came over him. + +'And it is to this loneliness that she will doom me for another year,' +he said, and there was a heavy cloud on his brow as he said it. 'If she +really loved me, would she abandon me to another twelvemonth of +miserable retrospection, with only Margaret's dead face to haunt me with +its strange beauty?' But even as the thought passed through him came the +remembrance of those clinging arms and the dark eyes shining through +their tears. + +'I love you dearly--dearly--but I want to love you more.' + +'Oh, Heartsease,' he groaned, 'I fear that the mistake is mine, and that +I have not yet won the whole of your innocent heart. I have taken it too +much as a matter of course. Perhaps I have not wooed you so earnestly as +I should have wooed an older woman, and yet I hardly think I have failed +in either devotion or reverence. Ah,' he continued, with an involuntary +sigh, 'what right have I to complain if she withhold her fresh young +love--am I giving her all that is in me to give?' But here he stopped, +as though the reflection pained him. + +He remembered with what sympathy Mildred had advocated his cause. She +had looked excited--almost indignant--as Polly had uttered her piteous +protest for time. Had her clear eyes noticed any signs of vacillation or +reluctance? Could he speak to her on the subject? Would she answer him +frankly? And then, for the first time, he felt as though he could not so +speak to her. + +'Every one takes their troubles to her, but she shall not be harassed by +me,' he thought. 'She is sinking now under the burdens which most likely +other people have laid upon her. I will not add to their weight.' And a +strange pity and longing seized him to know what ailed the generous +creature, who never thought of herself, but of others. + +Mildred felt as though some ordeal awaited her when she woke the next +morning. She looked so ill and weak that Olive was in despair when she +insisted on rising and dressing herself. 'It will bring on the faintness +again to a certainty,' she said, in a tone of unusual remonstrance; but +Mildred was determined. + +But she was glad of Olive's assistance before she had finished, and the +toilet was made very slowly and wearily. At the drawing-room door Dr. +Heriot met her with a reproachful face; he looked a little displeased. + +'So you have cast my prescription to the wind,' he said, drily, 'and are +determined not to own yourself ill.' But Mildred coloured so painfully +that he cut short his lecture and assisted her to the couch in silence. + +'There you may stop for the next two or three days,' he continued, +somewhat grimly. 'Mr. Lambert has desired me to look after you, and I +shall take good care that you do not disobey my orders again. I have +made Olive head nurse, and woe be to her if there be a single +infringement of my rules.' + +Mildred looked up at him timidly. He had been so gentle with her the +preceding evening that this change of manner disturbed her. This was not +his usual professional gravity; on such occasions he had ever been +kindness itself. He must be put out--annoyed--the idea was absurd, but +could she have displeased him? She was too weak to bear the doubt. + +'Have I vexed you, Dr. Heriot, by coming down?' she asked, gently. 'I +should be worse if I fancied myself ill. I--I have had these attacks +before; they are nothing.' + +'That is your opinion, is it? I must say I thought better of your sense, +Miss Lambert,' still gruffly. + +Mildred's eyes filled with tears. + +'Yes, I am vexed,' he continued sitting down by her; but his tone was +more gentle now. 'I am vexed that you are hiding from us that you are +suffering. You keep us all in the dark; you deny you are ill. I think +you are treating us all very badly.' + +'No--no,' she returned, with difficulty. 'I am not ill--you must not +tell me so.' And her cheek paled perceptibly. + +'Have you turned coward suddenly?' he replied, with a keen look at her. +'I have heard you say more than once that the dread of illness was +unknown to you; that you could have walked a fever hospital without a +shudder. What has become of your courage, Miss Lambert?' + +'I am not afraid, but I do not want to be ill,' she returned, faintly. + +'That is more unlike you than ever. Impatience, want of submission, do +not certainly belong to your category of faults. Well, if you promise to +follow my prescription, I think I can undertake that you shall not be +ill.' + +Mildred drew a long sigh of relief; the sigh of an oppressed heart was +not lost on Dr. Heriot. + +'But you must get rid of what is on your mind,' he went on, quickly. 'If +other people's burdens lie heavily, you must shift them to their own +shoulders and think only of yourself. Now I want to ask you a few +questions.' + +Mildred looked frightened again, but something in Dr. Heriot's manner +this morning constrained her to obey. His inquiries were put skilfully, +and needed only a yea and nay, as though he feared she would elude him. +Mildred found herself owning to loss of appetite and want of sleep; to +languor and depression, and a tendency to excessive irritation; noises +jarred on her; a latent excitement took the place of strength. She had +lost all pleasure in her duties, though she still fulfilled them. + +'And now what does this miserable state of the nerves mean?' was his +next question. Mildred said nothing. + +'You have suffered no shock--nothing has alarmed you?' She shook her +head. + +'You cannot eat or sleep; when you speak you change colour with every +word; you are wasted, getting thinner every day, and yet there is no +disease. This must mean something, Miss Lambert--excuse me; but I am +your friend as well as your doctor. I cannot work in the dark.' + +Mildred's lips quivered. 'I want change--rest. I have had anxieties--no +one can be free in this world. I am getting too weak for my work.' What +a confession from Mildred! At another time she would have died rather +than utter it; but his quiet strength of will was making evasion +impossible. She felt as though this friend of hers was reading her +through and through. She must escape in some measure by throwing herself +upon his mercy. + +He looked uneasy at that; his eyes softened, then suffused. + +'I thought as much,' he muttered; 'I could not be deceived by that +face.' And a great pity swelled up in his heart. + +He would like to befriend this noble woman, who was always so ready to +sacrifice herself to the needs of others. He would ask her to impart her +trouble, whatever it was; he might be able to help her. But Mildred, who +read his purpose in his eyes, went on breathlessly-- + +'It is the rest I want, and the change; I am not ill. I knew you would +say so; but the nerves get strained sometimes, and then worries will +come.' + +'Tell me your trouble,' he returned abruptly, but it was the abruptness +of deep feeling. 'I have not forgotten your kindness to me on more than +one occasion. I have debts of gratitude to pay, and they are heavy. Make +me your friend--your brother, if you will; you will find I am to be +trusted.' But the poor soul only shrank from him. + +'It cannot be told--there are reasons against it. I have more than one +trouble--anxiety,' she faltered. 'Dr. Heriot, indeed--indeed, you are +very good, but there are some things that cannot be told.' + +'As you will,' he returned, very gently; but Mildred saw he was +disappointed. In what a strange complication she was involved! She could +not even speak to him of her fear on Roy's behalf. He took his leave +soon after that, and Mildred fancied a slight reserve mingled with the +kindness with which he bade her good-bye. + +He seemed conscious of it, for he came back again after putting on his +coat, thereby preventing a miserable afternoon of fanciful remorse on +Mildred's part. + +'I will think what is to be done about the change,' he said, drawing on +his driving-gloves. 'I am likely to be busy all day, and shall not see +you again this evening. Keep your mind at rest as well as you can. You +don't need to be told in what spirit all trials must be borne--the +darker the cloud the more need of faith.' He held out his hand to her +again with one of his bright, genial smiles, and Mildred felt braced and +comforted. + +Mildred was obliged to allow herself to be treated as an invalid for the +next few days; but when Dr. Heriot saw how the inaction and confinement +fretted her, he withdrew a few of his restrictions, even at times going +against his better judgment, when he saw how cruelly she chafed under +her own restlessness. + +This was the case one chill, sunless afternoon, when he found her +standing by the window looking out over the fells, with a sad +wistfulness that went to his heart. + +As he went up to her he was shocked to see the marks of recent tears +upon her face. + +'What is this--you are not worse to-day?' he asked, in a tone of vexed +remonstrance. + +'No--oh no,' she returned, holding out her hand to him with a misty +smile, the thin blue-veined hand, with its hot dry palm; 'you will think +me a poor creature, Dr. Heriot, but I could not help fretting over my +want of strength just now.' + +'Rome was not built in a day,' he responded, cheerily; 'and people who +indulge in fainting fits cannot expect to feel like Hercules. Who would +have thought that such an inexorable nurse as Miss Lambert should prove +such a fractious invalid?' and there was a tone of reproof under the +light raillery. + +'I do not mean to be impatient,' she answered, sighing; 'but I am so +weary of this room and my own thoughts, and then there are my poor +people.' + +'Don't trouble your head about them; they will do very well without +you,' with pretended roughness. + +She shook her head. + +'You are wrong; they miss me dreadfully; Olive has brought me several +messages from them already.' + +'Then Olive ought to be ashamed of herself, and shall be deposed from +her office of nurse, and Polly shall reign in her stead.' + +But Mildred was too much depressed and in earnest to heed his banter. + +'There is poor Rachel Sowerby up at Stenkrith; her mother has been down +this morning to say that she cannot last very much longer.' + +'I am just going up to see her now. I fear it is only a question of +days,' he replied, gravely. + +Mildred clasped her hands with an involuntary movement of pain. + +'Rachel is very dear to me; she is the model girl and the favourite of +the whole school, and her mother says she is pining to see me. Oh, Dr. +Heriot--' but here she stopped. + +'Well,' he returned, encouragingly; and for the second time he noticed +the exceeding beauty of Mildred's eyes, as she fixed them softly and +beseechingly on his face. + +'Do you think it would hurt me to go that little distance, just to see +Rachel?' + +'What, in this bitter wind!' he remonstrated. 'Wait until to-morrow, and +I will drive you over.' + +'There may be no to-morrows for Rachel,' she returned, with gentle +persistence. 'I am afraid I shall fret sadly if I do not see her again; +she was my best Sunday scholar. The wind will not hurt me; if you knew +how I long to be out in it; just before you came in I was wishing I were +on the top of one of those fells, feeling it sweep over me.' + +'Ministers of grace defend me from the soft pleading of a woman's +tongue!' exclaimed Dr. Heriot, impatiently, but he laughed too; 'you are +a most troublesome patient, Miss Lambert; but I suppose you must have +your way; but you must take the consequences of your own wilfulness.' + +Mildred quietly seated herself. + +'No, I am not wilful; I have no wish to disobey you,' she returned, in a +low voice. + +He drew near and questioned her face; evidently it dissatisfied him. + +'If I do not let you go, you will only worry yourself the whole day, and +your lungs are sound enough,' he continued, brusquely; but Mildred's +strange unreasonableness tried him. 'Wrap yourself up well. Polly is +going with me, but there is plenty of room for both. I will pay my +visit, and leave you with Rachel for an hour, while I get rid of some of +my other patients.' + +Mildred lost no time in equipping herself, and though Dr. Heriot +pretended to growl the greater part of the way, he could not help +noticing how the wind--bleak and boisterous as it was--seemed to freshen +his patient, and bring back the delicate colour to her cheeks. + +'What a hardy north-country woman you have become,' he said, as he +lifted her down from the phaeton, and they went up the path to the +house. + +'I feel changed already; thank you for giving me my way in this,' was +the grateful answer. + +When Dr. Heriot had taken his departure, she went up to the sickroom, +and sat for a long time beside her old favourite, reading and praying +with her, until Rachel had fallen into a doze. + +'She will sleep maybe for an hour or two; she had a terrible night of +pain,' whispered Mrs. Sowerby, 'and she will sleep all the sweeter for +your reading to her. Poor thing! she was set on seeing her dear Miss +Lambert, as she always calls you.' + +'I will come again and see her to-morrow, if Dr. Heriot permits it,' she +replied. + +When Mrs. Sowerby had gone back to her daughter's room, she went and sat +by herself at a window looking over Stenkrith; the rocks and white +foaming pools were distinctly visible through the leafless trees; a +steep flight of steps led down to the stream and waterfall; the steps +were only a few yards from the Sowerbys' house. As Mildred looked, a +strange longing to see the place again took possession of her. + +For a moment she hesitated, as Dr. Heriot's strictures on her imprudence +recurred to her memory, but she soon repelled them. + +'He does not understand--how can he--that this confinement tries me,' +she thought, as she crept softly down the stairs, so as not to disturb +Rachel. 'The wind was delicious. I feel ten times better than I did in +that hot room; he will not mind when I tell him so.' + +Mildred's feverish restlessness, fed by bitter thought, was getting the +better of her judgment; like the skeleton placed at Egyptian feasts to +remind the revellers that they were mortal, so Mildred fancied her +courage would be strengthened, her resolution confirmed, by a visit to +the very spot where her bitterest wound had been received; she +remembered how the dark churning waters had mingled audibly with her +pain, and for the moment she had wished the rushing force had hurried +her with it, with her sweet terrible secret undisturbed, to the bottom +of that deep sunless pool. + +And now the yearning to see it again was too strong to be resisted. +Polly had accompanied Dr. Heriot. Mrs. Sowerby was in her daughter's +room; there was no one to raise a warning voice against her imprudence. + +The whole place looked deserted and desolate; the sun had hidden its +face for days; a dark moisture clung to the stones, making them slippery +in places; the wind was more boisterous than ever, wrapping Mildred's +blue serge more closely round her feet, and entangling her in its folds, +blowing her hair wildly about her face, and rendering it difficult with +her feeble force to keep her footing on the slimy rocks. + +'I shall feel it less when I get lower down,' she panted, as she +scrambled painfully from one rock to another, often stopping to take +breath. A curious mood--gentle, yet reckless--was on her. 'He would be +angry with her,' she thought Ah, well! his anger would only be sweet to +her; she would own her fault humbly, and then he would be constrained to +forgive her; but this longing for freedom, for the strong winds of +heaven, for the melody of rushing waters, was too intense to be +resisted; the restlessness that devoured her still led her on. + +'I see something moving down there,' observed Polly, as Dr. Heriot's +phaeton rolled rapidly over the bridge--'down by the steps, I mean; it +looked almost like Aunt Mildred's blue serge dress.' + +'Your eyes must have deceived you, then,' he returned coolly, as he +pulled up again at the little gate. + +Polly made no answer, but as she quickened her steps towards the place, +he followed her, half vexed at her persistence. + +'My dear child, as though your Aunt Milly would do anything so absurd,' +he remonstrated. 'Why, the rocks are quite unsafe after the rain, and +the wind is enough to cut one in halves.' + +'It is Aunt Milly. I told you so,' returned Polly, triumphantly, as she +descended the step; 'there is her blue serge and her beaver hat. Look! +she sees us; she is waving her hand.' + +Dr. Heriot suppressed the exclamation that rose to his lips. + +'Take care, Polly, the steps are slippery; you had better not venture on +the stones,' he said, peremptorily. 'Keep where you are, and I will +bring Miss Lambert back.' + +Mildred saw him coming; her heart palpitated a little. + +'He will think me foolish, little better than a child,' she said to +herself; he will not know why I came here;' and her courage evaporated. +All at once she felt weak; the rocks were certainly terribly slippery. + +'Wait for me; I will help you!' he shouted, seeing her indecision; but +either Mildred did not hear, or she misunderstood him; the stone was too +high for her unassisted efforts; she tried one lower; it was wet; her +foot slipped, she tried to recover herself, fell, and then, to the +unspeakable horror of the two watching her above, rolled from rock to +rock and disappeared. + +Polly's wild shriek of dismay rang through the place, but Dr. Heriot +never lost his presence of mind for a moment. + +'Stay where you are; on your peril disobey me!' he cried, in a voice of +thunder, to the affrighted girl; and then, though with difficulty, he +steered his way between the slippery stones, and over the dangerous +fissures. He could see her now; some merciful jag in the rocks had +caught part of her dress, and arrested her headlong progress. The +momentary obstacle had enabled her, as she slipped into one of the awful +fissures that open into Coop Kernan Hole, to snatch with frantic hands +at the slimy rock, her feet clinging desperately to the narrow slippery +ledge. + +'John, save me!' she screamed, as she felt herself slipping into the +black abyss beneath. + +'John!' + +John Heriot heard her. + +'Yes, I am coming, Mildred; hold on--hold on, another minute.' The drops +of mortal agony stood on his brow as he saw her awful peril, but he +dared not, for both their sakes, venture on reckless haste; already he +had slipped more than once, but had recovered himself. It seemed minutes +to both of them before Polly saw him kneeling on one knee beside the +hole, his feet hanging over the water. + +'Hush! do not struggle so, Mildred,' he pleaded, as he got his arm with +difficulty round her, and she clung to him almost frantically; the poor +soul had become delirious from the shock, and thought she was being +dashed to pieces; her face elongated and sharpened with terror, as she +sank half fainting against his shoulder. The weight on his arm was +terrible. + +'Good Heavens! what can I do?' he ejaculated, as he felt his strength +insufficient to lift her. His position was painful in the extreme; his +knee was slipping under him; and the dripping serge dress, heavy with +water, increased the strain on the left arm; a false movement, the +slightest change of posture, and they must both have gone. He remembered +how he had heard it said that Coop Kernan Hole was of unknown depth +under the bridge; the dark sluggish pool lay black and terrible between +the rocks; if she slipped from his hold into that cruel water, he knew +he could not save her, for he had ever been accounted a poor swimmer, +and yet her dead-weight was already numbing his arm. + +'Mildred, if you faint we must both die!' he cried in despair. + +His voice seemed to rouse her; some instinct of preservation prompted +her to renewed effort; and as he held her more firmly, she managed to +get one hand round his neck--the other still clutched at the rock; and +as Polly's cries for help reached a navvy working at some distance, she +saw Dr. Heriot slowly and painfully lift Mildred over the edge of the +rock. + +'Thank God!' he panted, and then he could say no more; but as he felt +the agonised shuddering run through Mildred's frame, as, unconscious of +her safety, she still clung to him, he half-pityingly and +half-caressingly put back the unbound hair from the pale face, as he +would have done to a child. + +But he looked almost as ghastly as Mildred did, when, aided by the +navvy's strong arms, they lifted her over the huge masses of rocks and +up the steep steps. + +Polly ran to meet them; her lover's pale and disordered appearance +alarmed her almost as much as Mildred's did. + +'Oh, Heriot!' cried the young girl, 'you are hurt; I am sure you are +hurt.' + +'A strain, nothing else,' he returned, quickly; 'run on, dear Polly, and +open the door for us. Mrs. Sowerby must take us in for a little while.' + +When Mildred perfectly recovered consciousness, she was lying on the +old-fashioned couch in Mrs. Sowerby's best room; but she was utterly +spent and broken, and could do nothing for a little while but weep +hysterically. + +Polly lent over her, raining tears on her hands. + +'Oh, Aunt Milly,' sobbed the faithful little creature, 'what should we +have done if we had lost you? Darling--darling, how dreadful it would +have been.' + +'I wished to die,' murmured Mildred, half to herself; 'but I never knew +how terrible death could be. Oh, how sinful--how ungrateful I have +been.' And she covered her face with her hands. + +'Oh, Heriot; ask her not to cry so,' pleaded poor Polly. 'I have never +seen her cry before, never--and it hurts me so.' + +'It will do her good,' he returned, hastily; but he went and stood by +the window, until Polly joined him. + +'She is better now,' she said, timidly glancing up into his absorbed +face. + +Upon that he turned round. + +'Then we must get her home, that she may change her wet things as soon +as possible. Do you feel as though you can move?' he continued, in his +ordinary manner, though perhaps it was a trifle grave. 'You are terribly +bruised, I fear, but I trust not otherwise injured.' + +She looked up a little surprised at the calmness of his tone, and then +involuntarily she stretched out her hands to him-- + +'Let me thank you first--you have saved my life,' she whispered. + +'No,' he returned, quietly. 'It is true your disobedience placed us both +in jeopardy; but it was your obedience at the last that really saved +your life. If you had fainted, you must inevitably have been lost. I +could not have supported you much longer in my cramped position.' + +'Your arm--did I hurt it?' she asked, anxiously, noticing an expression +of pain pass over his face. + +'I daresay I have strained it slightly,' he answered, indifferently; +'but it does not matter. The question is, do you think you can bear to +be moved?' + +'Oh, I can walk. I am better now,' she replied, colouring slightly. + +His coolness disappointed her; she was longing to thank him with the +full fervour of a grateful heart. It was sweet, it was good in spite of +everything to receive her life back through his hands. Never--never +would she dare to repine again, or murmur at the lot Providence had +appointed her; so much had the dark lesson of Coop Kernan Hole taught +her. + +'Well, what is it?' he asked, reading but too truly the varying +expressions of her eloquent face. + +'If you will only let me thank you,' she faltered, 'I shall never forget +this hour to my dying day.' + +'Neither shall I,' he returned, abruptly, as he wrapped her up in his +dry plaid and assisted her to rise. His manner was as kind and +considerate as ever during their short drive, but Mildred felt as though +his reserve were imposing some barrier on her. + +Consternation prevailed in the vicarage at the news of Mildred's danger. +Olive, who seldom shed tears, became pale and voiceless with emotion, +while Mr. Lambert pressed his sister to his heart with a whispered +thanksgiving that was audible to her alone. + +It was good for Mildred's sore heart to feel how ardently she was +beloved. A great flood of gratitude and contrition swept over her as she +lay, bruised and shaken, with her hand in Arnold's, looking at the dear +faces round her. 'It has come to me not in the still, small voice, but +in the storm,' she thought. 'He has brought me out of the deep waters to +serve Him more faithfully--to give a truer account of the life restored +to me.' + +The clear brightness of her eyes surprised Dr. Heriot as he came up to +her to take leave; they reminded him of the Mildred of old. 'You must +promise to sleep to-night. Some one must be with you--Olive or +Polly--you might get nervous alone,' he said, with his usual +thoughtfulness; but she shook her head. + +'I think I am cured of my nervousness for ever,' she returned, in a +voice that was very sweet. The soft smiling eyes haunted him. Had an +angel gone down and troubled the pool? What healing virtues had steeped +the dark waters that her shuddering feet had pressed? Could faith, +full-formed, spring from such parentage of deadly anguish and fear? +Mildred could have answered in the verse she loved so well-- + + 'He never smiled so sweet before + Save on the Sea of Sorrow, when the night + Was saddest on our heart. We followed him + At other times in sunshine. Summer days + And moonlight nights He led us over paths + Bordered with pleasant flowers; but when His steps + Were on the mighty waters, when we went + With trembling hearts through nights of pain and loss, + His smile was sweeter, and His love more dear; + And only Heaven is better than to walk + With Christ at midnight over moonless seas.' + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +DR. HERIOT'S MISTAKE + + 'In the cruel fire of sorrow + Cast thy heart, do not faint or wail; + Let thy hand be firm and steady, + Do not let thy spirit quail: + But wait till the trial is over, + And take thy heart again; + For as gold is tried by fire, + So a heart must be tried by pain!' + + Adelaide Anne Procter. + + +Mildred slept soundly that night in spite of her bruises. It was Dr. +Heriot who waked. + +What nightmare of oppression was on him? What light, scorching and +illuminating, was shining on him through the gloom? Was he losing his +senses?--had he dreamt it? Had he really heard it? 'John, save me, +John!' as of a woman in mortal anguish calling on her mate, as Margaret +had once--but once--called him, when a glimpse of the dark valley had +been vouchsafed her, and she had bidden him, with frenzied eye and +tongue, arrest her downward course: 'I cannot die--at least, not like +this--you must save me, John!' and that time he had saved her. + +And now he had heard it again, at the only time when conventionality +lays aside its decorous disguise, and the souls of men are bare to their +fellows--at the time of awful peril on the brink of a momentarily +expected death: so had she called to him, and so, with the sudden waking +response of his soul, he had answered her. + +He could see it all now. Never, to his dying hour, could he forget that +scene--the prostrate figure crashing among the rocks, as though to an +immediate and terrible death; the agonised struggle in the dark pit, the +white face pressed heavily like death to his shoulder, the long unbound +hair streaming across his arm; never before had he owned to himself that +this woman was fair, until he had put back the blinding hair with his +hand, as she clung to him in suffering helplessness. + +'I wished to die, but I never knew how terrible death could be,' he had +heard her whisper between her quivering lips; and the knowledge that her +secret was his had bidden him turn away his eyes from her--his own +suffused with tears. + +'Fool! blind fool that I was!' he groaned. 'Fool! never to guess how +dear she was until I saw death trying to snatch her from me; never to +know the reason why her presence inspired me with such comfort and such +rest! And I must needs call it friendship. Was it friendship that +brought me day after day with such a sore heart to minister to her +weakness?--was it only friendship and pity, and a generous wish to +succour her distress? + +'Oh, fool! miserable fool! for ever fated to destroy my own peace of +mind!' But we need not follow the bitter self-communing of that generous +spirit through that long night of doubt and pain from which he rose a +sadder and a better man. + +Alas! he had grasped the truth too late. The true woman, the true mate, +the very nature akin to his own, had been beside him all these years, +and he had not recognised her, blind in his pitiful worship of lesser +lights. + +And as he thought of the innocent girl who had pledged her faith to him, +he groaned again within himself. Polly was not less dear to him in the +misery that had befallen him, yet he knew, and shuddered at the +knowledge, that all unwittingly he had deceived himself and her; he +would love his child-wife dearly, he knew, but not as he could love a +woman like Mildred. + +'If she had been less reserved, less unapproachable in her gentle +dignity, it might have been better for both of us,' he said to himself. +'The saint has hidden the woman; one cannot embrace a halo!' and he +thought with sharp anguish how well this new phase of weakness had +become her. When she had claimed his indulgence for her wayward and +nervous fancies, he had felt even then a sort of pride that she should +appeal to him in her helplessness. + +But these were vain thoughts. It might have been better for both of them +if she were lying now under the dark waters of Coop Kernan Hole, her +angel soul in its native heaven. Yes, it might be far better; he did not +know--he had not Mildred's faith; for as long as they must dwell +together, and yet apart, in this mortal world, life could only be a +bitter thing for him; but not for that should he cease to struggle. + +'I have more than myself to consider,' he continued, as he rose and drew +back the curtain, and looked out on the rich harvest of the +sky-glittering sheaves of stars, countless worlds beyond worlds, +stretching out into immensity. 'God do so to me and more also if my +unkindness or fickleness cloud the clear mirror of that girlish soul. It +is better, far better, for me to suffer--ay, for her too--than to throw +off a responsibility at once so sacred and so pure.' + +How Mildred would have gloried in this generous victory if she had +witnessed it! The knowledge that the tardy blessing of his love had been +vouchsafed her, though too late and in vain, would have gladdened her +desolate heart, and the honour and glory of it would have decked her +lonely life, with infinite blossom. + +But now she could only worship his goodness from afar. None but Mildred +had ever rightly read him, or knew the unselfishness that was so deeply +ingrained in this man's nature. Loving and impulsive by nature, he had +patiently wooed and faithfully held to the woman who had scorned his +affection and provoked his forbearance; he had borne his wrecked +happiness, the daily spectacle of his degradation, with a resignation +that was almost sublime; he had comforted the poor sinner on her +deathbed with assurances of forgiveness that had sunk into her soul with +strange healing; when at last she had left him, he had buried his dead +out of his sight, covering with thick sods, and heaping the earth with +pious hands over the memory of her past sins. + +It was this unselfishness that had first taught him to feel tenderly to +the poor orphan; he had schemed out of pure benevolence to make her his +wife, until the generous fancy had grown dear to him, and he had +believed his own happiness involved in it. + +And now that it had resulted in a bitter awakening to himself and +disappointment to another, no possibility of eluding his fate ever came +into his mind. Polly already belonged to him; she was his, made his own +by a distinct and plighted troth; he could no more put her away from him +than he would have turned away the half-frozen robin that sought refuge +from the inclement storm. Mildred had betrayed her love too late; it was +his lot to rescue her from death, but not to bid her welcome to a heart +that should in all honour belong to another. True, it was a trial most +strange and bitter--an ordeal from which flesh and blood might well +shrink; but long before this he had looked into the burning fiery +furnace of affliction, and he knew, as such men know, that though he +might be cast therein bound and helpless, that even there the true heart +could discern the form most like unto the Son of God. + +It was with some such feeling as this that he lingered by Polly's side, +as though to gain a minute's strength before he should be ushered into +Mildred's presence. + +'How tired you look, Heriot,' she said, as he stood beside her; the word +had involuntarily slipped from her in her gladness yesterday, and as she +timidly used it again his lips touched her brow in token of his thanks. + +'We are improving, Heartsease. I suppose you begin to find out that I am +not as formidable as I look--that Dr. Heriot had a very chilling sound, +it made me feel fifty at least.' + +'I think you are getting younger, or I am getting older,' observed +Polly, quaintly; 'to be sure you look very pale this morning, and your +forehead is dreadfully wrinkled. I am afraid your arm has been troubling +you.' + +'Well, it has been pretty bad,' he returned, evasively; 'one does not +get over a strain so easily. But, now, how is Mildred?' + +The word escaped from him involuntarily, but he did not recall it. Polly +did not notice his slight confusion. + +'She is down in the drawing-room. I think she expects you,' she replied. +'Olive said she had a beautiful night, but of course the bruises are +very painful; one of her arms is quite blackened, she cannot bear it +touched.' + +'I will see what can be done,' was his answer. + +As he crossed the lobby his step was as firm as ever, his manner as +gravely kind as he stood by Mildred's side; the delicacy of her aspect +smote him with dull pain, but she smiled in her old way as she gave him +her left hand. + +'The other is so much bruised that I cannot bear the lightest touch,' +she said, drawing it out from her white shawl, and showing him the cruel +black marks; 'it is just like that to my shoulder.' + +He looked at it pityingly. + +'And yet you slept?' + +'As I have not slept for weeks; no terrible dreams haunted me, no grim +presentiments of evil fanned my pillow with black wing; you must have +exorcised the demon.' + +'That is well,' he returned, sitting down beside her, and trying to +speak with his old cheerfulness; 'reality has beaten off hypochondriacal +fancies. Coop Kernan Hole has proved a stern mentor.' + +'I trust I may never forget the lesson it has taught me,' she returned, +with a slight shudder at the remembrance, and then they were both silent +for a moment. 'Dr. Heriot,' she continued, presently, 'yesterday I +wanted to thank you--I ought rather to have craved your forgiveness.' + +He smiled at that; in spite of himself the old feeling of rest had +returned to him with her presence; her sweet looks, her patience, her +brave endurance of what he knew would be keen suffering to other women, +won the secret tribute of his admiration; he would lay aside his heavy +burden for this one hour, and enjoy this brief interval of peace. + +'I do not wonder that you refused my thanks,' she went on, earnestly; +'to think that my foolish act of disobedience should have placed your +life as well as mine in such deadly peril; indeed, you must assure me of +your forgiveness, or I shall never be happy again,' and Mildred's lip +trembled. + +He took the bruised hand in his, but so tenderly that she did not wince +at his touch; the blackened fingers lay on his palm as restfully as the +little bird he had once warmed in his hands one snowy day. How he loved +this woman who was suing to him with such sweet lips for +forgiveness;--the latent flame just kindled burned with an intensity +that surprised himself. + +'Ah!' she said, mistaking his silence, and looking up into his dark +face--and it looked strangely worn and harassed in the clear morning +light--'you do not answer, you think I am much to blame. I have tried +your patience too far--even yours!' + +'I was angry with you, certainly, when I saw you down on those rocks +jeopardising your precious life,' he replied, slowly. 'Such +foolhardiness was unlike you, and I had reserved certain vials of wrath +at my disposal--but now----' + +He finished with his luminous smile. + +'You think I have been punished sufficiently?' + +'Yes, first stoned and then half submerged. I forgave you directly you +called on me for help,' he returned, making believe to jest, but +watching her intently all the time. Would she understand his vague +allusion? But Mildred, unconscious that she had betrayed herself, only +looked relieved. + +'Besides, there can be no question of forgiveness between friends, and +whatever happens we are friends always,' relinquishing her hand a little +abruptly. + +He rose soon after that. + +Mildred was uneasy; he was evidently suffering severely from his arm, +but he continued to evade her anxious inquiries, assuring her that it +was nothing to the pain of her bruises, and that a wakeful night, more +or less, mattered little to him. + +But as he went out of the room, he told himself that these interviews +were perilously sweet, and must be avoided at all hazards; either he +must wound her with his coldness, or his tenderness would inevitably +betray itself in some unguarded look or word. Twice, already, had her +name lingered on his tongue, and more than one awkward pause had brought +her clear glances questioning to his face. + +What right had he to hold the poor blackened hand in his for more than a +moment? But the sweet soul had taken it all so naturally; her colour had +never varied; possibly her great deliverance had swallowed all lesser +feelings for the time; the man she loved had become her preserver, and +this knowledge was so precious to her that it had lifted her out of her +deep despondency. + +But as he set forth to his work, he owned within himself that such +things must not be--it were a stain on his integrity to suffer it; from +the first of Mildred's coming their intercourse had been free and +unrestrained, but for the future he would time his visits when the other +members of the family would be present, or, better still, he would keep +Polly by his side, trusting that the presence of his young betrothed +would give him the strength he needed. + +Mildred did not seem to notice the change, it was effected so skilfully; +she was always better pleased when Olive or Polly was there--it diverted +Dr. Heriot's attention from herself, and caused her less embarrassment; +her battered frame was in sore need of rest, but with her usual +unselfishness, she resumed some of her old duties as soon as possible, +that Olive might not feel overburdened. + +'It seems as though I have been idle for such a long time,' she said, in +answer to Dr. Heriot's deprecating glance at the mending beside her; +'Olive has no time now, and these things are more troublesome to her +than to most people. To-morrow I mean to take to housekeeping again, for +Polly feels herself quite unable to manage Nan.' + +Dr. Heriot shook his head, but he did not directly forbid the +experiment. He knew that to a person of Mildred's active habits, +anything approaching to indolence was a positive crime; it was better +for them both that she should assert that she was well, and that he +should be free to relax his vigilance; he could still watch over her, +and interfere when it became necessary to do so. + +Mildred had reason to be thankful that he did not oppose her exertions, +for before long fresh work came to her. + +The very morning after Dr. Heriot had withdrawn his silent protest, a +letter in a strange handwriting was laid beside Mildred's +breakfast-plate; the postmark was London, and she opened it in some +little surprise; but Polly, who was watching her, noticed that she +turned pale over the contents. + +'Is it about Roy?' she whispered; and Mildred started. + +'Yes, he has been ill,' and she looked at her brother doubtfully; but he +stretched out his hand for the letter, and read it in silence. + +Polly watched them anxiously. + +'He is not very ill, Aunt Milly?' + +'Not now; but I greatly fear he has been so. Mrs. Madison writes that it +was a neglected cold, with a sharp attack of inflammation, but that the +inflammation has subsided; he is terribly weak, and needs nursing, and +the doctor insists that his friends should be informed.' + +'But Dad Fabian is with him?' + +'No, he is quite alone. The strangest part is that he would not suffer +her to write to us. I suppose he dreaded our alarm.' + +'It was wrong--very wrong,' groaned Mr. Lambert; 'his brother not with +him, and he away from us all that distance; Mildred, my dear, you must +go to him without delay.' + +Mildred smiled faintly; she thought her strength was small for such a +long journey, but she did not say so. Anxiety for his son had driven the +remembrance of her accident from his mind; a slight attack of rheumatic +gout, to which he had been subject of late years, prevented him from +undertaking the journey as he wished. + +'You will go, my dear, will you not?' he pleaded, anxiously. + +'If Aunt Milly goes, I must go to take care of her,' broke in Polly. + +Her face was pale, her eyes dilated with excitement. Olive looked on +wistfully, but said nothing; it was never her way to thrust herself +forward on any occasion, and however much she wished to help Mildred in +nursing Roy, she did not drop a hint to the effect; but Mildred was not +slow to interpret the wistfulness. + +'It is Olive's place to nurse her brother,' she said, with a trace of +reproof in her voice; but though Polly grew crimson she still persisted. + +I did not mean that--you know I did not, Aunt Milly!' a little +indignantly. 'I only thought I could wait on you, and save you trouble, +and then when he was better I could----' but her lip quivered, and when +the others looked up, expecting her to finish her sentence, she suddenly +and most unexpectedly burst into tears, and left the room. + +Olive followed Mildred when she rose from the breakfast-table. + +'Aunt Milly, do let her go. Poor Polly! she looks so miserable.' + +'It is not to be thought of for a moment,' returned Mildred, with +unusual decision; 'if no one but Polly can accompany me, I shall go +alone.' + +'But Polly is so fond of Roy,' pleaded Olive; timid with regard to +herself, she could persist with more boldness on another's behalf. 'Roy +would not care for me half so much as he would for her; when he had that +feverish cold last year, no one seemed to please him but Polly. Do let +her go, Aunt Milly,' continued the generous-hearted girl. 'I do not mind +being left. If Roy is worse I could come to you,' and Olive spoke with +the curious choke in her voice that showed strong emotion. + +Mildred looked touched, but she remained firm. Little did Olive guess +her reasons. + +'I could not allow it for one moment, Olive. I think,' hesitating a +little, as though sure of inflicting pain, 'that I ought to go alone, +unless Roy is very ill. I do not see how your father is to be left; he +might have another attack, and Richard is not here.' + +'I forgot papa,' in a conscience-stricken tone. 'I am always forgetting +something.' + +'Yes, and yourself in the bargain,' smiling at her earnest +self-depreciation. + +'No, please don't laugh, Aunt Milly, it was dreadfully careless of +me--what should we all do without you to remind us of things? Of course +papa must be my first thought, unless--unless dear Rex is very ill,' and +a flush of pain passed over Olive's sallow face. + +Mildred melted over this fresh instance of Olive's unselfish goodness; +she wrapped her arms fondly round the girl. + +'Dear Olive, this is so good of you!' + +'No, it is only my duty,' but the tears started to her eyes. + +'If I did not think it were, I would not have proposed it,' she +returned, reluctantly; 'but you know how little care your father takes +of himself, and then he will fret so about Roy when Richard is away. I +never like to leave him.' + +'Do not say any more, Aunt Milly; nothing but real positive danger to +Roy would induce me to leave him.' + +'No, I knew I could trust you,' drawing a relieved breath; 'but, indeed, +I have no such fear for Rex. Mrs. Madison says it was only a slight +attack of inflammation, and that it has quite subsided. He will be +dreadfully weak, of course, and that is why the doctor has sent for us; +he will want weeks of nursing.' + +'And you will not take Polly or Chriss. Remember how far from strong you +are, and Rex is so exacting when he is ill.' + +'Chriss would be no use to me, and Polly's place is here,' was Mildred's +quiet answer as she went on with her preparations for the next day's +journey; but she little knew of the tenacity with which Polly clave to +her purpose. + +When Dr. Heriot came in that afternoon for his last professional chat +with Mildred, he found her looking open-eyed and anxious in the midst of +business, reading out a list for Olive, who was writing patiently from +her dictation; Polly was crouched up by the fire doing nothing; she had +not spoken to any one since the morning; she hardly raised her head when +he came in. + +Mildred explained the reason of their unusual bustle in her clear, +succinct way. Roy was ill, how ill she could not say. Mr. Lambert had +had a touch of gout last night, and dared not run the risk of a journey +just now. Olive must stop with her father, at least for the present; and +as Chriss was too young to be of the least possible use, she was going +alone. Polly's name was not mentioned. Dr. Heriot looked blank at the +tidings. + +'Alone, and in your state of health! why, where is Polly? she is a +capital nurse; she is worth a score of others; she will keep up your +spirits, save you fatigue, and cheer up Roy in his convalescence.' + +'You cannot spare her; Polly's place is here,' replied Mildred, +nervously; but to her surprise Polly interrupted her. + +'That is not the reason, Aunt Milly.' + +'My dear Polly!' exclaimed Dr. Heriot, amazed at the contradiction. + +'No, it is not, and she knows it,' returned the girl, excitedly; 'ask +her, Heriot; look at her; that is not the reason she will not suffer me +to go to Roy.' + +Mildred turned her burning face bravely on the two. + +'Whatever reasons I have, Polly knows me well enough to respect them,' +she said, with dignity; 'it is far better for Roy that his aunt or his +sister should be with him. Polly ought to know that her place is beside +you.' + +'Aunt Milly, how dare you speak so,' cried the girl, hotly, 'as though +Roy were not my own--own brother. Have we not cared for each other ever +since I came here a lonely stranger; do you think he will get better if +he is fretting, and knows why you have left me behind; when he was ill +in the summer, would he have any one to wait on him but me?' + +'Oh, Polly,' began Mildred, sorrowfully, for the girl's petulance and +obstinacy were new to her; but Dr. Heriot stopped her. + +'Let the child speak,' he said, quietly; 'she has never been perverse to +you before; she has something on her mind, or she would not talk so.' + +The kind voice, the unexpected sympathy, touched Polly's sore heart; and +as he held out his hand to her, she crept out of her dark corner. He +drew her gently to his side. + +'Now, Polly, what is it? there is something here that I do not +understand--out with it like a brave lassie.' + +But she hung her head. + +'Not now, not here, before the others,' she whispered, and with that he +rose from his seat, but he still kept hold of her hand. + +'Polly is going to make a clean breast of it; I am to hear her +confession,' he said, with a cheerfulness that reassured Mildred. 'There +is no time like the present. I mean to bring her back by and by, and +then we will make our apologies together.' + +Mildred sighed as the door closed after them; she would fain have known +what passed between them; her heart grew heavy with foreboding as time +elapsed and they did not make their appearance. When her business was +finished, and Olive had left her, she sat for more than half an hour +with her eyes fixed on the door, feeling as though she could bear the +suspense no longer. + +She started painfully when the valves unclosed. + +'We have been longer than I expected,' began Dr. Heriot. + +His face was grave, and Mildred fancied his eyes looked troubled. Polly +had been crying. + +'It was a rambling confession, and one difficult to understand,' he +continued, keeping the girl near him, and Mildred noticed she leant her +face caressingly against his coat-sleeve, as she stood there; 'and it +goes back to the day of our picnic at Hillbeck.' + +Mildred moved uneasily; there was something reproachful in his glance +directed towards herself; she averted her eyes, and he went on-- + +'It seems you were all agreed in keeping me in the dark; you had your +reasons, of course, but it appears to me as though I ought to have been +the first to hear of Roy's visit,' and there was a marked emphasis in +his words that made Mildred still more uncomfortable. 'I do not wish to +blame you; you acted for the best, of course, and I own the case a +difficult one; it is only a pity that my little girl should have +considered it her duty to keep anything from me.' + +'I told him it was Roy's secret, not mine,' murmured Polly, and he +placed his hand kindly on her head. + +'I do not see how she could have acted otherwise,' returned Mildred, +rather indistinctly. + +'No, I am more inclined to blame her advisers than herself,' was the +somewhat cool response; 'mysteries are bad things between engaged +people. Polly kept a copy of her letter to show me, but she never found +courage to do so until to-night, and yet she is quite aware what are +Roy's feelings towards her.' + +Mildred's voice had a sound of dismay in it-- + +'Oh, Polly! then you have deceived me too.' + +'You have no reason to say so,' returned the girl, proudly, but her +heart swelled over her words; 'it was that--that letter, and your +silence, that told me, Aunt Milly; but I could not--it was not possible +to say it either to you or to Dr. Heriot.' + +'You see it was hard for her, poor child,' was his indulgent comment; +'but you might have helped her; you might have told me yourself, Miss +Lambert.' + +But Mildred repelled the accusation firmly. + +'It was no business of yours, Dr. Heriot, or Polly's either, that Roy +loved her. Richard and I were right to guard it; it was his own secret, +his own trouble. Polly would never have known but for her own +wilfulness.' + +'Yes I should, Aunt Milly; I should have found it out from his silence,' +returned Polly, with downcast eyes. 'I could not forget his changed +looks; they troubled me more than you know. I puzzled myself over them +till I was dizzy. I felt heart-broken when I found it out, but I could +not have told Heriot.' + +'It would have been better for us both if you had,' he replied, calmly; +but he uttered no further reproach, only there was a keen troubled look +in his eyes, as he gazed at the girl's upturned face, as though he +suddenly dreaded the loss of something dear to him. + +'Heartsease, it would have been better for you and me.' + +'Heriot, what do you mean?' she whispered, vehemently; 'surely you did +not misunderstand me; you could not doubt the sincerity of my words, my +love?' + +'Neither the one nor the other,' was the quiet reply; 'do I not know my +Polly? could I not trust that guileless integrity as I would my own? You +need not fear my misunderstanding you; I know you but too well.' + +'Are you sure that you do?' clinging to him more closely. + +'Am I sure that I am alive? No, Polly, I do not doubt you; when you tell +me that you love Roy as though he were your own brother, that you are +only sorry for him, and long to comfort him, I believe you. I am as sure +that you speak the truth as you know it.' + +'And you will trust me?' stroking the coat-sleeve as she spoke. + +'Have I not told you so?' reproachfully; 'am I a tyrant to keep you in +durance vile, when your adopted brother lies dangerously ill, and you +assure me of your power to minister to him? Miss Lambert, it is by my +own wish that Polly goes with you to London; she thinks Roy will not get +well unless he sees her again.' + +Mildred started. Polly had kept her thoughts so much to herself lately +that she had not understood how much was passing in her mind; did she +really believe that her influence was so great over Roy, that her +persuasion would recall him from the brink of the grave? Could Dr. +Heriot credit such a supposition? was not the risk a daring one? He +could not be so sure of himself and her; but looking up, as these +thoughts passed through her mind, she encountered such a singular glance +from Dr. Heriot that her colour involuntarily rose; it told her he +understood her scruples, but that his motives were fixed, inscrutable; +it forbade questioning, and urged compliance with his wishes, and after +that there was nothing more to be said. + +But in the course of the evening Polly volunteered still further +information-- + +'You know he is going with us himself,' she said, as she followed +Mildred into her room to assist in the packing. + +Mildred very nearly dropped the armful of things she was carrying, a +pile of Roy's shirts she had been mending; she faced round on Polly with +unusual energy-- + +'Who is going with us? Not Dr. Heriot?' + +'Yes; did he not tell you so? I heard him speaking to Mr. Lambert and +saying that you were not fit to undertake such a long journey by +yourself; he did not count me, as he knew I should lose my head in the +bustle; very rude of him, was it not? and then he told Mr. Lambert that +he should see Roy and bring him back a report. Oh, I am so glad he is +coming,' speaking more to herself than Mildred; 'how good, how good he +is.' + +Mildred did not answer; but after supper that night, when Dr. Heriot had +again joined them, she asked if he had really made up his mind to +accompany them. + +'You did not tell me of your intention,' she said, a little nettled at +his reserve with her. + +'No; I was afraid of your raising objections and raising all sorts of +useless arguments; regret that I should take so much trouble, and so +forth,' trying to turn it off with a jest. + +'Are you going on Roy's account?' abruptly. + +'Well, not wholly. Of course his medical man's report will be +sufficient; but all the same it will be a relief to his father's mind.' + +'I suppose you are afraid to trust Polly with me then? but indeed I will +take care of her; there is no need for you to undergo such a fatiguing +journey,' went on Mildred, pretending to misunderstand him, but anxious +if possible to turn him from his purpose. + +But Dr. Heriot's cool amused survey baffled her. + +'A man has a right to his own reasons, I suppose? Perhaps I think one of +my patients is hardly able to look after herself just yet.' + +'Oh, Dr. Heriot!' hardly able to believe it though from his own lips; +'this is so like you--so like your usual thoughtfulness; but indeed it +is not necessary; Polly will take care of me.' + +'I daresay she will,' with a glint of humour in his eyes; 'but all the +same you must put up with my company.' + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +THE COTTAGE AT FROGNAL + + 'Whose soft voice + Should be the sweetest music to his ear.'--Bethune. + + +The journey was accomplished with less difficulty and fatigue than +Mildred had dared to expect. + +Dr. Heriot's attentions were undemonstrative but unceasing. For a +greater part of the way Mildred lay back amongst her snug wrappings, +talking little, but enjoying to the full the novelty of being the object +of so much care and thought. 'He is kind to everybody, and now he has +taken all this trouble for me,' she said to herself; 'it is so like +him--so like his goodness.' + +They were a very quiet party. Dr. Heriot was unusually silent, and Polly +sat watching the scenery and flying milestones with half-dreamy +absorption. When darkness came on, she nestled down by Mildred's side. +From his corner of the carriage, Dr. Heriot secretly peered at the faces +before him, under the guttering oil-lamp. Mildred's eyes had closed at +last from weariness; her thin cheek was pressed on the dark cushion. In +spite of the worn lines, the outline of the face struck him as strangely +fair; a fine nature was written there in indelible characters; even in +the abandonment of utter weariness, the mouth had not relaxed its firm +sweet curve; a chastened will had gradually smoothed the furrows from +the brow; it was as smooth and open as a sleeping child, and yet youth +had no part there; its tints and roundness had long ago fled. + +How had it been that Polly's piquant charms had blinded him? As he +looked at her now, half-lovingly, half-sadly, he owned that she could +not be otherwise than pretty in his eyes, and yet the illusion was +dispelled; but even as the thought passed through his mind, Polly's dark +eyes unclosed. + +'Are we near London? oh, how tired I am!' she said, with a weary, +petulant sigh. 'I cannot sleep like Aunt Milly; and the darkness and the +swinging make me giddy. One can only see great blanks of mist and +rushing walls, and red eyes blinking everywhere.' + +Dr. Heriot smiled over the girl's discontent. 'You will see the lights +of the station in another ten minutes. Poor little Heartsease. You are +tired and cold and anxious, and we have still a long drive before us.' + +'It has not been so long after all,' observed Mildred, cheerfully. She +did not feel cold or particularly tired; pleasant dreams had come to +her; some thoughtful hand had drawn the fur-lined rug round her as she +slept. As they jolted out of the light station and into the dark Euston +Road beyond, she sat thoughtful and silent, reviewing the work that lay +before her. + +It was late in the evening when the travellers reached the little +cottage at Frognal. Roy had taken a fancy to the place, and had migrated +thither the previous summer, in company with a young artist named +Dugald. + +It was a low, old-fashioned house, somewhat shabby-looking by daylight, +but standing back from the road, with a pleasant strip of garden lying +round it, and an invisible walk formed of stunted, prickly shrubs, which +had led its owner to give it the name of 'The Hollies.' + +Roy had fallen in love with the straggling lawn and mulberry trees, and +beds of old-fashioned flowers. He declared the peonies, hollyhocks, and +lupins, and small violet-and-yellow pansies, reminded him of +Castlesteads Vicarage; for it was well known that Mr. Delaware clave +with fondness to the flowers of his childhood, and was much given to +cultivate all manner of herbs, to be used medicinally by the poor of the +neighbourhood. + +A certain long, low room, with an out-of-the-way window, was declared to +have the north light, and to be just the thing for a studio, and was +shared conjointly by the young artists, who also took their frugal meals +together, and smoked their pipes in a dilapidated arbour overlooking the +mulberry-tree. + +Mildred knew that Herbert Dugald was at the present moment in Mentone, +called thither by the alarming illness of his father, and that his room +had been placed at Roy's disposal. The cottage was a large one, and she +thought there would be little difficulty in accommodating Polly and +herself; and as Mrs. Madison had no other lodgers, they could count on a +tolerable amount of quiet and comfort; and in spite of the quaintness +and homeliness of the arrangements, they found this to be the case. + +Dr. Heriot had telegraphed their probable arrival, so they were not +unexpected. Mrs. Madison, an artist's widow herself, welcomed them with +unfeigned delight; her pleasant, sensible Scotch face broadened with +smiles as she came forward to meet them. + +'Eh, he's better, poor lad, though I never thought to say it,' she said, +answering Mildred's anxious look. 'He would not let me write, as I +wished, for fear of alarming his father, he said; but as soon as the +letter was posted, he made me telegraph for his brother; he arrived last +evening.' + +'Richard!' ejaculated Mildred, feeling things were worse than even she +had expected; but at that moment Richard appeared, gently closing the +door behind him. + +'Hush! he knows you are here;--you, I mean, Aunt Milly,' perceiving +Polly now, with some surprise; 'but we must be very careful. Last night +I thought we should have lost him. Ah, Dr. John, how good of you to +bring them! Come in here; we expected you, you see, Aunt Milly,' and he +led them into poor Roy's sitting-room. + +There was a blazing fire in the studio; the white china tiles reflected +a pleasant glow and heat; the heavy draperies that veiled the +cross-lights looked snug and dark; tea was on the little round table; a +large old-fashioned couch stood, inviting, near. Richard took off +Mildred's bonnet and hung it on an empty easel; Polly's furs found a +place on a wonderfully carved oak-chest. + +There was all the usual lumber belonging to a studio. Richard, in an +interval of leisure, had indeed cleared away a heterogeneous rubbish of +pipes, boxing-gloves, and foils, but the upper part of the room was a +perfect chaos of portfolios, books, and musical instruments, the little +square piano literally groaned under the dusty records; still there was +a wide space of comfort round the tiled fireplace, where all manner of +nursery tales leaped into existence under the kindling flame, with just +enough confusion to be quaint and picturesque. + +Neither Mildred nor Polly found fault with the suit of armour and the +carved chair, that was good for everything but to sit upon; the plaster +busts and sham bronzes struck them as beautiful; the old red velvet +curtain had an imposing effect, as well as the shreds and scraps of +colour introduced everywhere. Roy's velvet coat and gold-tasselled +smoking-cap lay side by side with an old Venetian garment, stiff with +embroidery and dirt. Polly touched it caressingly as she passed. + +Mildred's eyes had noted all these surroundings while she sat down on +the couch where Roy had tossed for so many, many days, and let Richard +wait on her; but her anxious looks still mutely questioned him. + +'You shall go in and see him directly you are rested and have had some +tea,' said Richard, busily occupying himself with the little black +kettle. 'He heard your bell, and made a sign to me to come to you; he +has been wishing for you all night, poor fellow; but it was his own +fault, telegraphing to me instead.' + +'You look fagged, Cardie; and no wonder--it must have been dreadful for +you alone.' + +'Mrs. Madison was with me. I would not have been without her; she is a +capital nurse, whatever Rex may say. At one time I got alarmed; the pain +in the side increased, and the distressed breathing was painful to hear, +the pulse reaching to a great height. I fancied once or twice that he +was a little light-headed.' + +'Very probably,' returned Dr. Heriot, gravely, placing himself quietly +between Mildred and the fire, as she shielded her face from the flame. +'I cannot understand how such a state of things should be. I always +thought Roy's a tolerably sound constitution; nothing ever seemed to +give him cold.' + +'He has never been right since he was laid up with his foot,' replied +Richard, with a slight hesitation in his manner. 'He did foolish things, +Mrs. Madison told me: took long walks after painting-hours in the fog +and rain, and on more than one occasion forgot to change his wet things. +She noticed he had a cold and cough, and tried once or twice to dissuade +him from venturing out in the damp, but he only laughed at her +precautions. I am afraid he has been very reckless,' finished Richard, +with a sigh, which Dr. Heriot echoed. Alas! he understood too well the +cause of Roy's recklessness. + +Polly had been shrinking into a corner all this time, her cheeks paling +with every word; but now Dr. Heriot, without apparently noticing her +agitation, placed her in a great arm-chair beside the table, and +insisted that she should make tea for them all. + +'We have reason to be thankful that the inflammation has subsided,' he +said, gravely. 'From what Richard tells us he has certainly run a great +risk, but I must see him and judge for myself.' And as Richard looked +doubtfully at Mildred, he continued, decidedly, 'You need not fear that +my presence will harass or excite him, if he be as ill as you describe. +I will take the responsibility of the act on myself.' + +'It will be a great relief to my mind, I confess,' replied Richard, in a +low voice. 'I like Dr. Blenkinsop, but still a second opinion would be a +great satisfaction to all of us; and then, you know him so well.' + +'Are you sure it will not be a risk?' whispered Polly, as he stood +beside her. She slid a hot little hand into his as she spoke, 'Heriot, +are you sure it will be wise?' + +'Trust me,' was his sole reply; but the look that accompanied it might +well reassure her, it was so full of pity for her and Roy; it seemed to +say that he so perfectly understood her, that as far as in him lay he +would take care of them both. + +Poor Polly! she spent a forlorn half-hour when the others had left; +strange terrors oppressed her; a gnawing pain, for which she knew no +words, fevered and kept her restless. + +What if Roy should die? What if the dear companion of her thoughts, and +hopes, should suddenly be snatched from them in the first fervour of +youth? Would she ever cease to reproach herself that she had so +misunderstood him? Would not the consequences of his unhappy +recklessness (ah, they little knew how they stabbed her there) lie +heavily on her head, however innocent she might own herself? + +Perhaps in his boyish way he had wooed her, and she had failed to +comprehend his wooing. How many times he had told her that she was +dearer to him than Olive and Chriss, that she was the sunshine of his +home, that he cared for nothing unless Polly shared it; and she had +smiled happily over such evidence of his affection. + +Had she ever understood him? + +She remembered once that he had brought her some trinket that had +pleased his fancy, and insisted on her always wearing it for his sake, +and she had remonstrated with him on its costliness. + +'You must not spend all your money on me, Rex. It is not right,' she had +said to him more seriously than usual; 'you know how Aunt Milly objects +to extravagance; and then it will make the others jealous, you know. I +am not your sister--not your real sister, I mean.' + +'If you were, I should not have bought you this,' he had answered, +laughing, and clasping it with boyish force on her arm. 'Polly, what a +child you are! when will you be grown up?' and there was an expression +in his eyes that she had not understood. + +A hundred such remembrances seemed crowding upon her, Would other girls +have been as blind in her place? Would they not have more rightly +interpreted the loving looks and words that of late he had lavished upon +her? Doubtless in his own way he had been wooing her, but no such +thought had entered her mind, never till she had heard his bitter words, +'You are Heriot's now, Polly,' had she even vaguely comprehended his +meaning. + +And now she had gone near to break his heart and her own too, for if Roy +should die, she verily believed that hers would be broken by the sheer +weight of remorseful pity. Ah, if he would only live, and she might care +for him as though he were her own brother, how happy they might be +still, for Polly's heart was still loyal to her guardian. But this +suspense was not to be borne, and, unable to control her restlessness +any longer, Polly moved with cautious steps across the room, and peeped +fearfully into the dark passage. + +She knew exactly where Roy's room was. He had often described to her the +plan of the cottage. Across the passage was a little odd-shaped room, +full of cupboards, which was Mrs. Madison's sitting-room. The kitchen +was behind, and to the left there was a small garden-room where the +young men kept their boots, and all manner of miscellaneous rubbish, in +company with Mrs. Madison's geraniums and cases of stuffed birds. + +A few winding, crooked stairs led to Roy's room; Mr. Dugald's was a few +steps higher; beyond, there was a perfect nest of rooms hidden down a +dark passage; there were old musty cupboards everywhere; a clear scent +of dry lavender pervaded the upper regions; a swinging lamp burnt dimly +in a sort of alcove leading to Roy's room. As Polly groped her way +cautiously, a short, yapping sound was distinctly audible, and a little +black-and-tan terrier came from somewhere. + +Polly knelt down and coaxed the creature to approach: she knew it was +Sue, Roy's dog, whom he had rescued from drowning; but the animal only +whined and shivered, and went back to her lair, outside her master's +door. + +'Sue is more faithful to him than I,' thought the girl, with a sigh. The +studio seemed more cheerful than the dark, cold passage. Sue's repulse +had saddened her still more. When Dr. Heriot returned some time +afterwards, he found her curled up in the great arm-chair, with her face +buried in her hands, not crying, as he feared, but with pale cheeks and +wide distended eyes that he was troubled to see. + +'My poor Polly,' smoothing her hair caressingly. + +Polly sprang up. + +'Oh, Heriot, how long you have been. I have been so frightened; is +he--will he live?' the stammering lips not disguising the terrible +anxiety. + +'There is no doubt of it; but he has been very ill. No, my dear child, +you need not fear I shall misunderstand you,' as Polly tried to hide her +happy face, every feature quivering with the joyful relief. 'You cannot +be too thankful, too glad, for he has had a narrow escape. Aunt Milly +will have her hands full for some time.' + +'I thought if he died that it would be my fault,' she faltered, 'and +then I could not have borne it.' + +'Yes--yes--I know,' he returned, soothingly; 'but now this fear is +removed, you will be our Heartsease again, and cheer us all up. I cannot +bear to see your bright face clouded. You will be yourself again, Polly, +will you not?' + +'I will try,' she returned, lifting up her face to be kissed like a +child. She had never but once offered him the most timid caress, and +this maidenly reserve and shyness had been sweet to him; but now he told +himself it was different. Alas! he knew her better than she knew +herself, and there was sadness in his looks, as he gently bade her +good-night. She detained him with some surprise. 'Where are you going, +Heriot? you know there is plenty of room; Richard said so.' + +'I shall watch in Roy's room to-night,' he replied. 'Richard looks worn +out, and Aunt Milly must recruit after her journey. I shall not leave +till the middle of the day to-morrow, so we shall have plenty of time to +talk. You must rest now.' + +'Are you going away to-morrow?' repeated Polly, looking blank. 'I--I had +hoped you would stay.' + +'My child, that would be impossible; but Richard will remain for a few +days longer. I will promise to come back as soon as I can.' + +'But--but if you leave me--oh, you must not leave me, Heriot,' returned +the girl, with sudden inexplicable emotion; 'what shall I do without +you?' + +'Have I grown so necessary to you all at once?' he returned, and there +was an accent of reproach in his voice. 'Nay, Polly, this is not like +your sensible little self; you know I must go back to my patients.' + +'Yes, I know; but all the same I cannot bear to let you go; promise me +that you will come back soon--very soon--before Roy gets much better.' + +'I will not leave you longer than I can help,' he replied, earnestly, +distressed at her evident pain at losing him, but steadfast in his +purpose to leave her unfettered by his presence. 'Now, sweet one, you +must not detain me any longer, as to-night I am Roy's nurse,' and with +that she let him leave her. + +There was a bright fire in the room where Mildred and she were to sleep. +When Mrs. Madison had lighted the tall candle-sticks on the mantelpiece, +and left her to finish her unpacking, Polly tried to amuse herself by +imagining what Olive would think of it all. + +It was a long, low room, with a corner cut off. All the rooms at The +Hollies were low and oddly shaped, but the great four-post bed, with the +moreen hangings, half filled it. + +As far as curiosities went, it might have resembled either the upper +half of a pawnbroker's window, or a mediaeval corner in some shop in +Wardour Street--such a medley of odds and ends were never found in one +room. A great, black, carved wardrobe, which Roy was much given to rave +about in his letters home, occupied one side; two or three +spindle-legged and much dilapidated chairs, dating from Queen Anne's +time, with an oaken chest, filled up all available space; but wardrobe, +mantelpiece, and even washstand, served as receptacles for the more +ornamental objects. + +Peacocks' feathers and an Indian canoe were suspended over the dim +little oblong glass. Underneath, a Japanese idol smiled fiendishly; the +five senses, and sundry china shepherdesses, danced round him like +wood-nymphs round a satyr; a teapot, a hunting-watch, and an emu's egg +garnished the toilet-table; over which hung a sampler, worked by Mrs. +Madison's grandmother; two little girls in wide sashes, with a +long-eared dog, simpered in wool-work; a portrait of some Madison +deceased, in a short-waisted tartan satin, and a velvet hat and +feathers, hung over them. + +The face attracted Polly in spite of the grotesque dress and ridiculous +headgear--the feathers would have enriched a hearse; under the funeral +plumes smiled a face still young and pleasant--it gave one the +impression of a fresh healthy nature; the ruddy cheeks and buxom arms, +with plenty of soft muscle, would have become a dairymaid. + +'I wonder,' mused the girl, with a sort of sorrowful humour, 'who this +Clarice was--Mrs. Madison's grandmother or great-grandmother most +likely, for of course she married--that broad, smiling face could not +belong to an old maid; she was some squire or farmer's wife most likely, +and he bought her that hat in London when they went up to see the Green +Parks, and St. James's, and Greenwich Hospital, and Vauxhall,--she had a +double chin, and got dreadfully stout, I know, before she was forty. And +I wonder,' she continued, with unconscious pathos, 'if this Clarice +liked the squire, or farmer, or whatever he may be, as I like Heriot. Or +if, when she was young, she had an adopted brother who gave her pain; +she looks as though she never knew what it was to be unhappy or sorry +about anything.' + +Polly's fanciful musings were broken presently by Mildred's entrance; +she accosted the girl cheerfully, but there was no mistaking her pale, +harassed looks. + +'It is nearly twelve, you ought not to have waited for me, my dear; +there was so much to do--and then Richard kept me.' + +'Where is Richard?' asked Polly, abruptly. + +'He has gone to bed; he is to have Mr. Dugald's room. Dr. Heriot is +sitting up with Roy.' + +'Yes, I know. Oh, Aunt Milly, he says there is no doubt of his living; +the inflammation has subsided, and with care he has every hope of him.' + +'Thank God! He will tell his father so; we none of us knew of his danger +till it was past, and so we were saved Richard's terrible suspense; he +has been telling me about it. I never saw him more cut up about +anything--it was a sharper attack than we believed.' + +'Could he speak to you, Aunt Milly?' + +'Only a word or two, and those hardly audible; the breathing is still so +oppressed that we dare not let him try--but he made me a sign to kiss +him, and once he took hold of my hand; he likes to see us there.' + +'He did not mind Dr. Heriot, then?' and Polly turned to the fire to hide +her sudden flush, but Mildred did not notice it. + +'He seemed a little agitated, I thought, but Dr. Heriot soon succeeded +in calming him; he managed beautifully. I am sure Roy likes having him, +though once or twice he looked pained--at least, I fancied so; but you +have no idea what Dr. Heriot is in a sickroom,' and Mildred paused in +some emotion. + +She felt it was impossible to describe to Polly the skilful tenderness +with which he had tended Roy; the pleasant cordiality which had evaded +awkwardness, the exquisite sympathy that dealt only with present +suffering; no, it could only be stored sacredly in her memory, as a +thing never to be forgotten. + +The girl drooped her head as Mildred spoke. + +'I am finding out more every day what he is, but one will never come to +the bottom of his goodness,' she said, humbly. 'Aunt Milly, I feel more +and more how unworthy I am of him,' and she rested her head against +Mildred and wept. + +There was a weary ring in Mildred's voice as she answered her. + +'He would not like to hear you speak so despairingly of his choice; you +must make yourself worthy of him, dear Polly.' + +'I will try--I do try, till I get heart-sick over my failures. I know +when he is disappointed, or thinks me silly; he gives me one of his +quiet looks that seem to read one through and through, and then all my +courage goes. I do so long to tell him sometimes that he must be +satisfied with me just as I am, that I shall never get wiser or better, +that I shall always be Polly, and nothing more.' + +'Only his precious little Heartsease!' + +'No,' she returned, sighing, 'I fear that has gone too. I feel so sore +and unhappy about all this. Does he--does Roy know I am here?' + +'No, no, not yet; he is hardly strong enough to bear any excitement. It +will be very dull for you, my child, for you will not even have my +company.' + +'Oh, I shall not mind it--not much, I mean,' returned Polly, stoutly. + +But, nevertheless, her heart sank at the prospect before her; she would +not see him perhaps for weeks, she would only see Mildred by snatches, +she would be debarred from Dr. Heriot's society; it was a dreary thought +for the affectionate girl, but her resolution did not falter, things +would look brighter by the morning light as Mildred told her, and she +fell asleep, planning occupation for her solitary days. + +Dr. Heriot's watch had been a satisfactory one, and he was able to +report favourably of the invalid. Roy still suffered greatly from the +accelerated and oppressed breathing and distressing cough, but the +restlessness and fever had abated, and towards morning he had enjoyed +some refreshing sleep, and he was able to leave him more comfortably to +Mildred and Richard. + +He took Polly for a long walk after breakfast, which greatly brightened +the girl's spirits, after which Richard and he had a long talk while +pacing the lawn under the mulberry trees; both of them looked somewhat +pale and excited when they came in, and Richard especially seemed deeply +moved. + +Polly moped somewhat after Dr. Heriot's departure, but Richard was very +kind to her, and gave her all his leisure time; but he was obliged to +return to Oxford before many days were over. + +Polly had need of all her courage then, but she bore her solitude +bravely, and resorted to many ingenious experiments to fill up the hours +that hung so heavily on her hands. She wrote daily letters to Olive and +Dr. Heriot, kept the studio in dainty order, gathered little inviting +bouquets for the sickroom, and helped Mrs. Madison to concoct invalid +messes. + +By and by, as she grew more skilful, all Roy's food was dressed by her +hands. Polly would arrange the tray with fastidious taste, and carry it +up herself to the alcove in defiance of all Mildred's warnings. + +'I will step so lightly that he cannot possibly recognise my footsteps, +and I always wear velvet slippers now,' she said, pleadingly; and +Mildred, not liking to damp the girl's innocent pleasure, withdrew the +remonstrance in spite of her better judgment. + +Dr. Heriot had strictly prohibited Polly's visits to the sickroom for +the present, as he feared the consequences of any great excitement in +Roy's weakened condition. Polly would stand listening to the low weak +tones, speaking a word or two at intervals, and Mildred's cheerful voice +answering him; now and then the terrible cough seemed to shatter him, +and there would be long deathlike silences; when Polly could bear it no +longer, she would put on her hat, coaxing Sue to follow her, and take +long walks down the Finchley Road or over Hampstead Heath. + +There was a little stile near The Hollies where she loved to linger; +below her lay the fields and the long, dusty road; all manner of lights +gleamed through the twilight, the dark lane lay behind her; passers-by +marvelled at the girl standing there in her soft furs with the dog lying +at her feet; the air was full of warm dampness, a misty moon hung over +the leafless trees. + +'I wonder what Heriot is doing,' she would say to herself; 'his letters +are beautiful--just what I expected; they refresh me to read them; how +can he care for mine in return, as he says he does! Roy liked them, but +then----' + +Here Polly broke off with a shiver, and Sue growled at a dark figure +coming up the field-path. + +'Come, Sue, your master will want his tea,' cried the girl, waking up +from her vague musings, 'and no one but Polly shall get it for him. Aunt +Milly says he always praises Mrs. Madison's cookery;' and she quickened +her steps with a little laugh. + +Polly was only just in time; before her preparations were completed the +bell rang in the sickroom. + +'There, it is ready; I will carry it up. Never mind me, Mrs. Madison, it +is not very heavy,' cried the girl, bustling and heated, and she took up +the tray with her strong young arms, but, in her hurry, the velvet +slippers had been forgotten. + +Mildred started with dismay at the sound of the little tapping heels. +Would Roy recognise it? Yes, a flush had passed over his wan face; he +tried to raise himself feebly, but the incautious movement brought on a +fit of coughing. + +Mildred passed a supporting arm under the pillows, and waited patiently +till the paroxysm had passed. + +'Dear Rex, you should not have tried to raise yourself--there, lean +back, and be quiet a moment till you have recovered,' and she wiped the +cold drops of exhaustion from his forehead. + +But he still fought with the struggling breath. + +'Was it she--was it Polly?' he gasped. + +'Yes,' returned Mildred, alarmed at his excessive agitation and unable +to withhold the truth; 'but you must not talk just now.' + +'Just one word; when did she come?' he whispered, faintly. + +'With me; she has been here all this time. It is her cookery, not Mrs. +Madison's, that you have been praising so highly. No, you must not see +her yet,' answering his wistful glance; 'you are so weak that Dr. +Blenkinsop has forbidden it at present; but you will soon be better, +dear,' and it was a proof of his weakness that Roy did not contest the +point. + +But the result of Polly's imprudence was less harmful than she had +feared. Roy grew less restless. From that evening he would lie listening +for hours to the light footsteps about the house, his eyes would +brighten as they paused at his door. + +The flowers that Polly now ventured to lay on his tray were always +placed within his reach; he would lie and look at them contentedly. Once +a scrap of white paper attracted his eyes. How eagerly his thin fingers +clutched it There were only a few words traced on it--'Good-night, my +dear brother Roy; I am so glad you are better;' but when Mildred was not +looking the paper was pressed to his lips and hidden under his pillow. + +'You need not move about so quietly, I think he likes to hear you,' +Mildred said to the girl when she had assured herself that no hurtful +effect had been the result of Polly's carelessness, and Polly had +thanked her with glistening eyes. + +How light her heart grew; she burst into little quavers and trills of +song as she flitted about Mrs. Madison's bright kitchen. Roy heard her +singing one of his favourite airs, and made Mildred open the door. + +'She has the sweetest voice I ever heard,' he said with a sigh when she +had finished. 'Ask her to do that oftener; it is like David's harp to +Saul,' cried the lad, with tears in his eyes; 'it refreshes me.' + +Once they could hear her fondling the dog in the entry below. + +'Dear old Sue, you are such a darling old dog, and I love you so, though +you are too stupid to be taught any tricks,' she said, playfully. + +When Sue next found admittance into her master's room Roy called the +animal to him with feeble voice. 'Let her be, I like to have her here,' +he said, when Mildred would have lifted her from the snow-white +counterpane. 'Sue loves her master, and her master loves Sue,' and as +the creature thrust its slender nose delightedly into his hand Roy +dropped a furtive kiss on the smooth black head. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +'I CANNOT SING THE OLD SONGS' + + 'Ask me no more: what answer should I give? + I love not hollow cheek or faded eye: + Yet, O my friend, I will not have thee die! + Ask me no more, lest I should bid thee live; + Ask me no more. + + 'Ask me no more; thy fate and mine are seal'd: + I strove against the stream and all in vain: + Let the great river take me to the main: + No more, dear love, for at a touch I yield; + Ask me no more.' + + Tennyson's _Princess_. + + +Richard had promised to pay them another visit shortly, and one Saturday +evening while Polly and Sue were racing each other among the gravel-pits +and the furze-bushes of the people's great common, and the lights +twinkled merrily in the Vale of Health, and the shifting mist shut out +the blue distances of Harrow and Pinner, Mildred was charmed as well as +startled by the sound of his voice in the hall. + +'Well, Rex, you are getting on famously, I hear; thanks to Aunt Milly's +nursing,' was his cheerful greeting. + +Roy shook his head despondingly. + +'I should do better if I could see something different from these four +walls,' he returned, with a discontented glance round the room that +Mildred had made so bright and pretty; 'it is absurd keeping me moped up +here, but Aunt Milly is inexorable.' + +Mildred smiled over her boy's peevishness. + +'He does not know what is good for him,' she returned, gently; 'he +always gets restless towards evening. Dr. Blenkinsop has been most +strict in bidding me keep him from excitement and not to let him talk +with any one. This is the first day he has withdrawn his prohibition, +and Roy has been in his tantrums ever since.' + +'He said I might go downstairs if only I were spared the trouble of +walking,' grumbled Roy, who sometimes tyrannised over Aunt Milly--and +dearly she loved such tyranny. + +'He is more like a spoiled child than ever,' she said, laughing. + +'If that be all, the difficulty is soon obviated. I can carry him +easily,' returned Richard, looking down a little sadly at the long gaunt +figure before him, looking strangely shrunken in the brilliant +dressing-gown that was Roy's special glory; 'but I must be careful, you +look thin and brittle enough to break.' + +'May he, Aunt Milly? Oh, I do so long to see the old studio again, and +the couch is so much more comfortable than this,' his eyes beginning to +shine with excitement and his colour varying dangerously. + +'Is it quite prudent, Richard?' she asked, hesitatingly. 'Had we not +better wait till to-morrow?' but Roy's eagerness overbore her scruples. + +Polly little knew what surprise was in store for her. Her race over, she +walked along soberly, wondering how she should occupy herself that +evening. She, too, knew that Dr. Blenkinsop's prohibition had been +removed, and had chafed a little restlessly when Mildred had asked her +to be patient till the next day. 'Aunt Milly is too careful; she does +not think how I long to see him,' she said, as she walked slowly home. A +light streamed across the dark garden when she reached The Hollies; a +radiance of firelight and lamplight. 'I wonder if Richard has come,' +thought Polly, as she stole into the little passage and gently opened +the door. + +Yes, Richard was there; his square, thick-set figure blocking up the +fireplace as he leant in his favourite attitude against the mantelpiece; +and there was Aunt Milly, smiling as though something pleased her. And +yes, surely that was Roy's wraith wrapped in the gorgeous dressing-gown +and supported by pillows. + +The blood rushed to the girl's face as she stood for a moment as though +spell-bound, but at the sound of her half-suppressed exclamation he +turned his head feebly and looked at her. + +'Polly' was all he said, but at his voice she had sprung across the +room, and as he stretched out his thin hand to her with an attempt at +his old smile, a low sob had risen to her lips, and, utterly overcome by +the spectacle of his weakness, she buried her face in his pillows. + +Roy's eyes grew moist with sympathy. + +'Don't cry, Polly--don't; I cannot bear it,' he whispered, faintly. + +'Don't, Polly; try to control yourself; this agitation is very bad for +him;' and Richard raised her gently, for a deadly pallor had overspread +Roy's features. + +'I could not help it,' she returned, drying her eyes, 'to see him lying +there looking so ill. Oh, Rex! it breaks my heart,' and the two young +creatures almost clung together in their agitation; and, indeed, Roy's +hollow blue eyes and thin, bloodless face had a spectral beauty that was +absolutely startling. + +'I never thought you would mind so much, Polly,' he said, tremulously; +and the poor lad looked at her with an eagerness that he could not +disguise. 'I hardly dared to expect that you could waste so much time +and thought on me.' + +'Oh, Rex, how can you say such unkind things; not care--and I have been +fretting all this time?' + +'That was hardly kind to Heriot, was it?' he said, watching her, and a +strange vivid light shone in his eyes. If she had not known before she +must have felt then how he loved her; a sudden blush rose to her cheek +as he mentioned Dr. Heriot's name; involuntarily she moved a little away +from him, and Roy's head fell back on the pillow with a sigh. + +Neither of them seemed much disposed for speech after that. Roy lay back +with closed eyes and knitted brows, and Polly sat on a low chair +watching the great spluttering log and showers of sparks, while Mildred +and Richard talked in undertones. + +Now and then Roy opened his eyes and looked at her--at the dainty little +figure and sweet, thoughtful face; the firelight shone on the shielding +hand and half-hoop of diamonds. He recognised the ribbon she wore; he +had bought it for her, as well as the little garnet ring he had +afterwards voted as rubbish. The sight angered him. He would claim it +again, he thought. She should wear no gifts of his; the diamonds had +overpowered his garnets, just as his poor little love had been crushed +by Dr. Heriot's fascination. Adonis, with his sleepy blue eyes and fair +moustache and velvet coat, had failed in the contest with the elder man. +What was he, after all, but a beggarly artist? No wonder she despised +his scraps of ribbon, his paltry gewgaws, and odds and ends of rubbish. +'And yet if I had only had my chance,' he groaned within himself, 'if I +had wooed her, if I had compelled her to understand my meaning.' And +then his anger melted, as she raised her clear, honest eyes, and looked +at him. + +'Are you in pain, Rex?--can I move your pillows?' bending over him +rather timidly. Poor children! a veil of reserve had fallen between them +since Dr. Heriot's name had been mentioned, and she no longer spoke to +him with the old fearlessness. + +'No, I am not in pain. Come here, Polly; you have not begun to be afraid +of me since--since I have been ill?' rather moodily. + +'No, Rex, of course not.' But she faltered a little over her words. + +'Sit down beside me for a minute. What was it you called me in your +letter, before I was ill? Something--it looked strangely written by your +hand, Polly.' + +'Brother--my dear brother Rex,' almost inaudibly. + +'Ah, I remember. It would have made me smile, only I was not in the +humour for smiling. I did not write back to my sister Polly though. +Richard calls you his little sister very often, does he not?' + +'Yes, and I love to hear him say it,' very earnestly. + +'Should you love it if I called you that too?' he returned, with an +involuntary curl of the lip. 'Pshaw! This is idle talk; but sick people +will have their fancies. I have one at present. I want you not to wear +that rubbish any more,' touching her hand lightly. + +'Oh, Rex--the ring you gave me?' the tears starting to her eyes. + +'I never threw a flower away the gift of one that cared for me,' he +replied, with a weak laugh. '"I never had a dear gazelle but it was sure +to marry the market-gardener." Do you remember Dick Swiveller, Polly, +and the many laughs we have had over him in the old garden at home? Oh, +those days!' checking himself abruptly, for fear the pent-up bitterness +might find vent. + +'Children, you are talking too much,' interposed Mildred's warning +voice, not slow to interpret the rising excitement of Roy's manner. + +'One minute more, Aunt Milly,' he returned, hastily; then, dropping his +voice, 'The gift must go back to the giver. I don't want you to wear +that ugly little ring any longer, Polly.' + +'But I prize it so,' she remonstrated. 'If I give it back to you, you +will throw it in the fire, or trample on it.' + +'On my honour, no; but I can't stand seeing you wear such rubbish. I +will keep it safely--I will indeed, Polly. Do please me in this.' And +Polly, who had never refused him anything, drew off the shabby little +ring from her finger and handed it to him with downcast eyes. Why should +he ask from her such a sacrifice? Every ribbon and every flower he had +given her she had hoarded up as though they were of priceless value, and +now he had taken from her her most cherished treasure. And Polly's lip +quivered so that she could hardly bid him good-night. + +Richard, who saw the girl was fretting, tried by every means in his +power to cheer her. He threw on another log, placed her little +basket-work chair in the most inviting corner, showed her the different +periodicals he had brought from Oxford for Roy's amusement, and gave her +lively sketches of undergraduate life. Polly showed her interest very +languidly; she was mourning the loss of her ring, and thinking how much +her long-desired interview with Roy had disappointed her. Would he never +be the same to her again? Would this sad misunderstanding always come +between them? + +How was it she was clinging to him with the old fondness till he had +mentioned Dr. Heriot's name, and then their hands had fallen asunder +simultaneously? + +'Poor Roy, and poor, poor Polly!' she thought, with a self-pity as new +as it was painful. + +'You are not listening to me, Polly. You are tired, my dear,' Richard +said at last, in his kind fraternal way. + +'No, I am very rude. But I cannot help thinking of Rex; how ill he is, +and how terribly wasted he looks!' + +'I knew it would be a shock to you. I am thankful that my father's gout +prevents him from travelling; he would fret dreadfully over Roy's +altered appearance. But we must be thankful that he is as well as he is. +I could not help thinking all that night--the night before you and Aunt +Milly came--what I should do if we lost him.' + +'Don't, Richard. I cannot bear to think of it.' + +'It ought to make us so grateful,' he murmured. 'First Olive and then +Roy brought back from the very brink of the grave. It is too much +goodness; it makes one ashamed of one's discontent.' And he sighed +involuntarily. + +'But it is so sad to see him so helpless. You said he was as light as a +child when you lifted him, Richard, and if he speaks a word or two he +coughs. I am afraid Dr. Blenkinsop is right in saying he must go to +Hastings for the winter.' + +'We shall hear what Dr. John says when he comes up next. You expect him +soon, Polly?' But Richard, as he asked the question, avoided meeting her +eyes. He feared lest this long absence had excited suspicions which he +might find difficult to answer. + +But Polly's innocence was proof against any such surmises. 'I cannot +think what keeps him,' she returned, disconsolately. Olive says he is +not very busy, and that his new assistant relieves him of half his +work.' + +'And he gives you no reason?' touching the log to elicit another shower +of sparks. + +'No, he only says that he cannot come at present, and answers all my +reproaches with jests--you know his way. I don't think he half knows how +I want him. Richard, I do wish you would do something for me. Write to +him to-morrow, and ask him to come; tell him I want him very badly, that +I never wanted him half so much before.' + +'Dear Polly, you cannot need him so much as that,' trying to turn off +her earnestness with a laugh. + +'You do not know--you none of you know--how much I want him,' with a +strange vehemence in her tone. 'When he is near me I feel safe--almost +happy. Ah!' cried the girl, with a sad wistfulness coming into her eyes, +'when I see him I do not need to remind myself of his goodness and +love--I can feel it then. Oh, Richard dear! tell him he must come--that +I am afraid to be without him any longer.' + +Afraid of what? Did she know? Did Richard know? + +'She seems very restless without you,' he wrote that Sunday afternoon. +'I fancy Roy's manner frets her. He is fitful in his moods--a little +irritable even to her, and yet unable to bear her out of his sight. He +would be brought down into the studio again to-day, though Aunt Milly +begged him to spare himself. Polly has been trying all the afternoon to +amuse him, but he will not be amused. She has just gone off to the +piano, in the hope of singing him to sleep. Rex tyrannises over us all +dreadfully.' + +Dr. Heriot sighed over Richard's letter, but he made no attempt to +facilitate his preparations for going to London; he was reading things +by a clear light now; this failure of his was a sore subject to him; in +spite of the prospect that was dawning slowly before him, he could not +bear to think of the tangled web he had so unthinkingly woven--it would +need careful unravelling, he thought; and so curious is the mingled warp +and woof in the mind of a man like John Heriot, that while his heart +yearned for Mildred with the strong passion of his nature, he felt for +his young betrothed a tenderness for which there was no name, and the +thought of freeing himself and her was painful in the extreme. + +He longed to see her again and judge for himself, but he must be patient +for a while, he knew; so though Polly pleaded for his presence almost +passionately, he still put her off on some pretext or other,--nor did he +come till a strong letter of remonstrance from Mildred reached him, +reproaching him for his apparent neglect, and begging him to recall the +girl, as their present position was not good for her or Roy. + +Mildred was constrained to take this step, urged by her pity for Polly's +evident unhappiness. + +That some struggle was passing in the girl's mind was now evident. Was +she becoming shaken in her loyalty to Dr. Heriot? Mildred grew alarmed; +she saw that while Roy's invalid fancies were obeyed with the old +Polly-like docility and sweetness, that she shrank at times from him as +though she were afraid to trust herself with him; sometimes at a look or +word she would rise from his side and go to the piano and sing softly to +herself some airs that Dr. Heriot loved. + +'You never sing my old favourites now, Polly,' Roy said once, rather +fretfully, 'but only these old things over and over again!' + +'I like to sing these best,' she said, hastily; and then, as he still +pressed the point, she pushed the music from her, and hurried out of the +room. + +But Mildred had another cause for uneasiness which she kept to herself. +There was no denying that Roy was very slow in regaining strength. Dr. +Blenkinsop shook his head, and looked more dissatisfied every day. + +'I don't know what to make of him,' he owned to Mildred, one day, as +they stood in the porch together. + +It was a mild December afternoon; a red wintry sun hung over the little +garden; a faint crescent moon rose behind the trees; underneath the +window a few chrysanthemums shed a soft blur of violet and dull crimson; +a slight wind stirred the hair from Mildred's temples, showing a streak +of gray; but worn and thin as she looked, Dr. Blenkinsop thought he had +never seen a face that pleased him better. + +'What a Sister of Mercy she would make,' he often thought; 'if I know +anything of human nature, this woman has known a great sorrow; she has +been taught patience in a rough school; no matter how that boy tries +her, she has always a cheerful answer ready for him.' + +Dr. Blenkinsop was in rather a bad humour this afternoon, a fact that +was often patent enough to his patients, whom he was given to treat on +such occasions with some _brusquerie_; but with all his oddities and +contradictions, they dearly loved him. + +'I can't make him out at all,' he repeated, irritably, feeling his +iron-gray whiskers, a trick of his when anything discomposed him; 'there +is no fault to find with his constitution; he has had a sharp bout of +illness, brought on, as far as I can make out, by his own imprudence, +and just as he has turned the corner nicely, and seems doing us all +credit, he declines to make any further progress!' + +'But he is really better, Dr. Blenkinsop; he coughs far less, and his +sleep is less broken; he has no appetite, certainly, but----' Mildred +stopped. She thought herself that Roy had been losing ground lately. + +Dr. Blenkinsop fairly growled,--he had little sharp white teeth that +showed almost savagely when he was in one of his surly moods. + +'These lymphatic natures are the worst to combat, they succumb so +readily to weakness and depression; he certainly seems more languid +to-day, and there are feverish indications. He has got nothing on his +mind, eh?'--turning round so abruptly that Mildred was put out of +countenance. + +She hesitated. + +'Humph!' was his next observation, 'I thought as much. Of course it is +none of my concern, but when I see my patient losing ground without any +visible cause, one begins to ask questions. That young lady who assists +in the nursing--do you think her presence advisable, eh?'--with another +sharp glance at Mildred. + +'She is his adopted sister--she is engaged,' stammered Mildred, not +willing to betray the lad's secret. 'They are very fond of each other.' + +'A questionable sort of fondness--rather too feverish on one side, I +should say. Send her back to the north, and get that nice fellow Richard +in her place; that is my advice.' + +And acting on this very broad hint, Mildred soon afterwards wrote to Dr. +Heriot to recall Polly. + +When Dr. Blenkinsop had left her, she did not at once return to the +studio; through the closed door she could hear Polly striking soft +chords on the piano. Roy had seemed drowsy, and she trusted the girl's +murmuring voice would lull him to sleep. + +It was not often that she left them together; but this afternoon her +longing for a little fresh air tempted her to undertake some errands +that were needed for the invalid; and leaving a message with Mrs. +Madison that she would be back to the early tea, she set off in the +direction of the old town. + +It was getting rapidly dusk as the little gate swung behind Mildred. +When Roy roused from his fitful slumber, he could hardly see Polly as +she sat at the shabby, square piano. + +The girl was touching the notes with listless fingers, her head drooping +over the keys; but she suddenly started when she saw the tall gaunt +figure beside her in the gorgeous dressing-gown. + +'Oh, Rex, this is very wrong,' taking hold of one of his hot hands, and +trying to lead him back to the sofa, 'when you know you cannot stand, +and that the least movement makes you cough. Put your hand on my +shoulder; lean on me. Oh, I wish I were as strong and tall as Aunt +Milly.' + +'I like you best as you are,' he replied, but he did not refuse the +support she offered him. 'I could not see you over there, only the +outline of your dress. You never wear your pretty dresses now, Polly?' +reproachfully. 'I suppose because Heriot is not here.' + +'Indeed--indeed--you must not stand any longer, Rex. You must lie down +at once, or I shall tell Aunt Milly,' she returned, evasively. + +He was always making these sort of speeches to her, and to-night she +felt as though she could not bear them; but Roy was not to be silenced. +Never once had she mentioned Dr. Heriot's name to him, and with an odd +tenacity he wanted to make her say it. What did she call him? had she +learnt to say his Christian name? would she pronounce it with a blush, +faltering over it as girls do? or would she speak it glibly as with long +usage? + +'I suppose you keep them all for him,' he continued, with a suspicion of +bitterness in his tone; 'that little nun-like gray dress is good enough +for Aunt Milly and me. Too much colour would be bad for weak eyes, eh, +Polly?' + +'I dress for him, of course,' trying to defend herself with dignity; but +the next moment she waxed humble again. 'I--I am sorry you do not like +the dress, Rex,' she faltered. 'I should like to please you both if I +could,' and her eyes filled with tears. + +'I think you might sing sometimes to please me when he is not here,' he +returned, obstinately; 'just one song, Polly; my favourite one, with +that sad, sweet refrain.' + +'Oh, not that one,' she repeated, beginning to tremble; 'choose +something else, Rex--not that.' + +'No, I will have that or none,' he replied, irritably. What had become +of Roy's sweet temper? 'You seem determined not to please me in +anything,' and he moved away. + +Polly watched his tottering steps a moment, and then she sprang after +him. + +'Oh, Rex, do not be so cross with me; do not refuse my help,' she said, +winding her arm round him, and compelling him to lean on her. 'There, +you have done yourself mischief,' as he paused, overcome by a paroxysm +of coughing. 'How can you--how can you be so unkind to me, Rex?' + +He did not answer; perhaps, absorbed in his own trouble, he hardly knew +how he tried her; but as he sank back feebly on the cushions, he +whispered-- + +'You will sing it, Polly, will you not?' + +'Yes, yes; anything, if you will only not be angry with me,' returned +the poor girl, as she hurried away. + +The air was a mournful one, just suited to the words:-- + + 'Ask me no more: what answer should I give? + I love not hollow cheek or faded eye: + Yet, O my friend, I will not have thee die! + Ask me no more, lest I should bid thee live; + Ask me no more.' + +'Polly, come here! come to me, Polly!' for, overcome by a sudden +revulsion of feeling, Polly had broken down, and hidden her face in her +hands; and now a stifled sob reached Roy's ear. + +'Polly, I dare not move, and I only want to ask you to forgive me,' in a +remorseful voice; and the girl obeyed him reluctantly. + +'What makes you so cruel to me?' she panted, looking at him with sad +eyes, that seemed to pierce his selfishness. 'It is not my fault if you +are so unhappy--if you will not get well.' + +'Ask me no more; thy fate and mine are sealed.' The plaintive rhythm +still haunted her. Was she, after all, so much to blame? Was she not +suffering too? Why should he lay this terrible burden on her? It was +selfish of him to die and leave her to her misery. + +Roy fairly quailed beneath the girl's indignation and passionate sorrow. + +'Have I been so hard to you, Polly?' he said, humbly. 'Are men ever hard +to the women they love? There, the murder is out. You must leave me, +Polly; you must go back to Heriot. I am too weak to hide the truth any +longer. You must not stay and listen to me,' pushing her away with weak +force. + +It was his turn to be agitated now. + +'Leave me!' he repeated, 'it is not loyal to Heriot to listen to a +fool's maundering, which he has not the wit or the strength to hide. I +should only frighten you with my vehemence, and do no good. Aunt Milly +will be here directly. Leave me, I say.' + +But she only clung to him, and called him brother. Alas! how could she +leave him! + +By and by he grew calmer. + +'Forgive me, Polly; I am not myself; I ought not to have made you sing +that song.' + +'No, Rex,' in a voice scarcely audible. + +'When you go back to Heriot you must tell him all. Ask him not to be +hard on me. I never meant to injure him. The man you love is sacred in +my eyes. It was only for a little while I hated him.' + +'I will not tell him that.' + +'Listen to me, dear! I ask his pardon, and yours too, for having +betrayed myself. I have acted like a weak fool to-night. You were wiser +than I, Polly.' + +'There is nothing to forgive,' she returned, softly. 'Heriot will not be +angry with you; he knows you are ill, and I--I will try to forget it. +But you must get well, Rex; you will promise to get well for my sake.' + +'Shall you grieve very much if I do not? Heriot would comfort you, if I +did not, Polly.' + +She made an involuntary movement towards him, and then checked herself. + +'Cruel! cruel!' she said, in a voice that sounded dead and cold, and her +arms fell to her side. + +He melted at that. + +'There, I have hurt you again. What a selfish wretch I am. I shall make +a poor thing of life; but I will promise not to die if I can help it. +You shall not call me cruel again, Polly.' + +Then she smiled, and stretched out her hand to him. + +'I would not requite your goodness so badly as that. You could always do +as you liked with me in the old days, Polly--turn me round your little +finger. If you tell me to get well I suppose I must try; but the best +part of me is gone.' + +She could not answer him. Every word went through her tender heart like +a stab. What avail were her love and pity? Never should she be able to +comfort him again; never would her sweet sisterly ministrations suffice +for him. She must not linger by his side; her eyes were open now. + +'Good-bye, Roy,' she faltered. She hardly knew what she meant by that +farewell. Was she going to leave him? Was she only saying good-bye to +the past, to girlhood, to all manner of fond foolish dreams? She rose +with dry eyes when she had uttered that little speech, while he lay +watching her. + +'Do you mean to leave me?' he asked, sorrowfully, but not disputing her +decision. + +'Perhaps--yes--what does it matter?' she answered, moving drearily away. + +What did it matter indeed? Her fate and his were sealed. Between them +stretched a gulf, long as life, impassable as death; and even her +innocent love might not span it. + +'I shall not go to him, and he will not return to me,' she said, +paraphrasing the words of the royal mourner to harmonise with her +measure of pain. 'Never while I live shall I have my brother Roy again.' + +Poor little aching, childish heart, dealing for the first time with +life's mysteries, comprehending now the relative distinction between +love and gratitude, and standing with reluctant feet on the edge of an +unalterable resolve. What sorrow in after years ever equalled this +blank? + +When Mildred returned she found a very desolate scene awaiting her; the +fire had burnt low, a waste of dull red embers filled the grate, the +moon shone through the one uncurtained window; a mass of drapery stirred +at her entrance, a yawning figure stretched itself under the oriental +quilt. + +'Roy, were you asleep? The fire is nearly out. Where is Polly? + +'I do not know. She left the room just now,' he returned, with a sleepy +inflection; but to Mildred's delicate perception it did not ring true. +She said nothing, however, raked the embers together, threw on some +wood, and lighted the lamps. + +Had he really slept? There was no need to ask the question; his burning +hand, the feverish light of his eyes, the compressed lips, the baffled +and tortured lines of the brow, told her another story; she leant over +him, pressing them out with soft fingers. + +'Rex, my poor boy!' + +'Aunt Milly, she has bidden me good-bye,' broke out the lad suddenly; +'she knows, and she is going back to Heriot; and I--I am the most +miserable wretch alive.' + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +'WHICH SHALL IT BE?' + + 'She looked again, as one that half afraid + Would fain be certain of a doubtful thing; + Or one beseeching, "Do not me upbraid!" + And then she trembled like the fluttering + Of timid little birds, and silent stood.' + + Jean Ingelow. + + +Dr. Heriot started for London the day after he had received Mildred's +letter; as he intended, his appearance took them all by surprise. + +Mildred was the first to detect the well-known footsteps on the +gravelled path; but she held her peace. Dr. Heriot's keen glance, as he +stood on the threshold, had time to scan the features of the little +fireside group before a word of greeting had crossed his lips; he +noticed Polly's listless attitude as she sat apart in the dark +window-seat, and the moody restlessness of Roy's face as he lay +furtively watching her. Even Mildred's heightened colour, as she bent +industriously over her work, was not lost on him. + +'Polly!' he said, crossing the room, and marvelling at her unusual +abstraction. + +At the sound of the kind, well-known voice, the girl started violently; +but as he stooped over her and kissed her, she turned very white, and +involuntarily shrank from him, but the next moment she clung to him +almost excitedly. + +'Oh, Heriot, why did you not come before? You knew I wanted you--you +must have known how I wanted you.' + +'Yes, dear, I knew all about it,' he replied, quietly, putting away the +little cold hands that detained him, and turning to the others. + +A few kind inquiries after the invalid were met at first very irritably, +but even Roy's jealousy could not be proof against such gentleness, and +he forgot his wretchedness for a time while listening to home messages, +and all the budget of Kirkby Stephen gossip which Dr. Heriot retailed +over the cosy meal that Mildred provided for the traveller. + +For once Dr. Heriot proved himself an inexhaustible talker; there was no +limit to his stock of anecdotes. Roy's sulkiness vanished; he grew +interested, almost amused. + +'You remember old Mrs. Parkinson and her ginger-cakes, Polly,' he said, +with a weak ghost of a laugh; but then he checked himself with a frown. +How was it one could not hate this fellow, who had defrauded him of +Polly? he thought, clenching his hand impatiently. Why was he to succumb +to a charm of manner that had worked him such woe? + +Dr. Heriot's fine instinct perceived the lad's transition of mood. + +'Yes, Polly has a faithful memory for an old friend,' he said, answering +for the girl, who sat near him with a strip of embroidery from which she +had not once raised her eyes. As he looked at her, his face worked with +some strong emotion; his eyes softened, and then grew sad. + +'Polly is faith itself,' speaking with peculiar intonation, and laying +his hand on the small shining head. 'You see I have a new name for you +to-night, Heartsease.' + +'I think I will go to bed, Aunt Milly,' broke out poor Roy, growing +suddenly pale and haggard. 'I--I am tired, and it is later to-night, I +think.' + +Dr. Heriot made no effort to combat his resolution. He stood aside while +Mildred offered her arm to the invalid. He saw Polly hurriedly slip her +hand in Roy's, who wrung it hard with a sort of laugh. + +'It is good-bye for good and all, I suppose to-night?' he said. 'Heriot +means to take you away, of course?' + +But Polly did not answer; she only hid her red quivering hand under her +work, as though she feared Dr. Heriot would see it. + +But the next moment the work was thrown lightly to the ground, and Dr. +Heriot's fingers were gently stroking the ill-used hand. + +'Poor little Polly; does he often treat you to such a rough hand-shake?' +he said, with a half-amused, tender smile. + +'No, never,' she stammered; but then, as though gaining courage from the +kind face looking down at her, 'Oh, Heriot, I am so glad he is gone. +I--I want to speak to you.' + +'Is that why you have been so silent?' drawing her nearer to him as she +stood beside him on the rug. 'Little Heartsease, did you like my new +name?' + +'Don't, Heriot; I--I do not understand you; I have not been faithful at +least.' + +'Not in your sense of the word, perhaps, dear Polly, but in mine. What +if your faithfulness should save us both from a great mistake?' + +'I--I do not understand you,' she said again, looking at him with sad, +bewildered eyes. 'You shall talk to me presently; but now I want to +speak to you. Heriot, I was wrong to come here--wrong and self-willed. +Aunt Milly was right; I have done no good. Oh, it has all been so +miserable--a mistake from beginning to end; and then I thought you would +never come.' + +'Dear Polly, it could not be helped. Neither can I stay now.' + +'You will not go and leave me again?' she said, faltering and becoming +very pale. 'Heriot, you must take me with you; promise me that you will +take me with you.' + +'I cannot, my dear child. Indeed--indeed--I cannot' + +'Then I will go alone,' she said, throwing back her head proudly, but +trembling as she spoke. 'I will not stay here without you--not for a +day--not for a single day.' + +'But Roy wants you. You cannot leave him until he is better,' he said, +watching her; but though she coloured perceptibly, she stood her ground. + +'I was wrong to come,' she returned, piteously. 'I cannot help it if Rex +wants me. I know he does. You are saying this to punish me, and because +I have failed in my duty.' + +'Hush, my child; I at least have not reproached you.' + +'No, you never reproach me; you are kindness itself. Heriot,' laying +down her face on his arm, and now he knew she was weeping, 'I never knew +until lately how badly I have treated you. You ought not to have chosen +a child like me. I have tried your patience, and given you no return for +your goodness; but I have resolved that all this shall be altered.' + +'Is it in your power, Polly?' speaking now more gravely. + +'It must--it shall be. Listen to me, dear. You asked me once to make no +unnecessary delay, but to be your wife at once. Heriot, I am ready now.' + +'No, my child, no.' + +'Ah, but I am,' speaking with difficulty through her sobs. 'I never +cared for you so much. I never wanted you so much. I am so full of +gratitude--I long to make you so happy--to make somebody happy. You must +take me away from here, where Roy will not make me miserable any more, +and then I shall try to forget him--his unhappiness, I mean--and to +think only of you.' + +'Poor child,' speaking more to himself than to her; 'and this is to what +I have brought her.' + +'You must not be angry with Roy,' continued the young girl, when her +agitation had a little subsided. 'He could not help my seeing what he +felt; and then he told me to go back to you. He has tried his hardest, I +know he has; every night I prayed that you might come and take me away, +and every morning I dreaded lest I should be disappointed. Heriot, it +was cruel--cruel to leave me so long.' + +'And you will come back with me now?' + +'Oh yes,' with a little sighing breath. + +'And I am to make you my wife? I am not to wait for your nineteenth +birthday?' + +'No. Oh, Heriot, how self-willed and selfish I was.' + +'Neither one nor the other. Listen to me, dear Polly. Nay, you are +trembling so that you can hardly stand; sit beside me on this couch; it +is my turn to talk now. I have a little story to tell you.' + +'A story, Heriot?' + +'Yes; shall we call it "The Guardian's Mistake"? I am not much of a hand +in story-telling, but I hope I shall make my meaning clear. What, +afraid, my child? nay, there is no sad ending to this story of mine; it +runs merrily to the tune of wedding bells.' + +'I do not want to hear it,' she said, shrinking nervously; but he, +half-laughingly and half-seriously, persisted:-- + +'Once upon a time, shall we say that, Polly? Little Heartsease, how pale +you are growing. Once upon a time, a great many years ago, a man +committed a great mistake that darkened his after life. + +'He married a woman whom he loved, but whose heart he had not won. Not +that he knew that. Heaven forbid that any one calling himself a man +should do so base a thing as that; but his wishes and his affection +blinded him, and the result was misery for many a year to come.' + +'But he grew comforted in time,' interrupted Polly, softly. + +'Yes, time, and friendship, and other blessings, bestowed by the good +God, healed the bitterness of the wound, but it still bled inwardly. He +was a weary-hearted man, with a secret disgust of life, and full of sad +loathing for the empty home that sheltered his loneliness, all the +more,' as Polly pressed closer to him, 'that he was one who had ever +craved for wife and children. + +'It was at this time, just as memory was growing faint, that a certain +young girl, the daughter of an old college friend of his, was left to +his care. Think, Polly, how sacred a charge to this desolate man; a +young orphan, alone in the world, and dependent on his care.' + +'Heriot, I beseech you to stop; you are breaking my heart.' + +'Nay, dearest, there is nothing sad in my story; there are only wheels +within wheels, a complication heightening the interest of the plot. +Well, was it a wonder that this man, this nameless hero of ours, a +species of Don Quixote in his way, should weave a certain sweet fancy +into his dreary life, that he should conceive the idea of protecting and +loving this young girl in the best way he could by making her his wife, +thinking that he would make himself and her happy, but always thinking +most of her.' + +'Oh, Heriot, no more; have pity on me.' + +'What, stop in the middle of my story, and before my second hero makes +his appearance? For shame, Heartsease; but this man, for all his wise +plans and benevolent schemes, proved himself miserably blind. + +'He knew that this girl had an adopted brother whom she loved dearly. +Nay, do not hide your face, Polly; no angel's love could have been purer +than this girl's for this friend of hers; but alas, what no one had +foreseen had already happened; unknown to her guardian, and to herself, +this young man had always loved, and desired to win her for his wife.' + +'She never knew it,' in a stifled voice. + +'No, she never knew it, any more than she knew her own heart. Why do you +start, Heartsease? Ah, she was so sure of that, so certain of her love +for her affianced husband, that when she knew her friend was ill, she +pleaded to be allowed to nurse him. Yes, though she had found out then +the reason of his unhappiness.' + +'She hoped to do good,' clasping her hands before her face. + +'True, she hoped to do good; she fancied, not knowing the world and her +own heart, that she could win him back to his old place, and so keep +them both, her guardian and her friend. And her guardian, heart-sick at +the mistake he had made, and with a new and secret sorrow preying upon +him, deliberately suffered her to be exposed to the ordeal that her own +generous imprudence had planned.' + +'Heriot, one moment; you have a secret sorrow?' + +'Not an incurable one, my sweet; you shall know it by and by; if I do +not mistake, it will yield us a harvest of joy; but I am drawing near +the end of the story.' + +'Yes, you have quite finished--there is nothing more to say; nothing, +Heriot.' + +'You shall tell me the rest, then,' he returned, gravely. Was she true +to her guardian, this girl; true in every fibre and feeling? or did her +faithful heart really cleave to the companion of her youth, calling her +love by the right name, and acknowledging it without fear? + +'Polly, this is no time for a half-truth; which shall it be? Is your +heart really mine, or does it belong to Roy?' + +She would have hidden her face in her hands, but he would not suffer it. + +'Child, you must answer me; there must be no shadow between us,' he +said, holding her before him. There was a touch of sternness in his +voice; but as she raised her eyes appealingly to his, she read there +nothing but pity and full understanding; for one moment she stood +irresolute, with palpitating heart and white quivering lips, and then +she threw herself into his arms. + +'Oh, Heriot, what shall I do? What shall I do? I love you both, but I +love Roy best.' + + * * * * * + +When Mildred re-entered the room, an hour later, somewhat weary of her +banishment, she found the two still talking together. Polly was sitting +in her little low chair, her cheek resting on her hand. Dr. Heriot +seemed speaking earnestly, but as the door opened, he broke off hastily, +and the girl started to her feet. + +'I must go now,' she whispered; 'don't tell Aunt Milly to-night. Oh, +Heriot, I am so happy; this seems like some wonderful dream; I don't +half believe it.' + +'We must guard each other's confidence. Remember, I have trusted you, +Polly,' was his answer, in a low tone. 'Good-night, my dearest child; +sleep well, and say a prayer for me.' + +'I do--I do pray for you always,' she affirmed, looking at him with her +soul in her eyes; but as he merely pressed her hand kindly, she suddenly +raised herself on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. 'Dear--dear Heriot, I +shall pray for you all my life long.' + +'Are you going, Polly?' asked Mildred, in surprise. + +'Yes, I am tired. I cannot talk any more to-night,' returned the girl, +hastily. + +Her face was pale, as though, she had been weeping; but her eyes smiled +radiantly under the wet lashes. + +Mildred turned to the fire, somewhat dissatisfied. + +'I hope things are right between you and Polly,' she said, anxiously, +when she and Dr. Heriot were left alone. + +'They have never been more so,' he replied, with a mischievous smile; +'for the first time we thoroughly understand ourselves and each other; +she is a dear good child, and deserves to be happy.' But as Mildred, +somewhat bewildered at the ambiguous tone, would have questioned him +still further, he gently but firmly changed the subject. + +It was a strange evening to Mildred; outside, the rain lashed the panes. +Dr. Heriot had drawn his arm-chair nearer to the glowing fire; he looked +spent and weary--some conflicting feelings seemed to fetter him with +sadness. Mildred, sitting at her little work-table, scarcely dared to +break the silence. Her own voice sounded strange to her. Once when she +looked up she saw his eyes were fixed upon her, but he withdrew them +again, and relapsed into his old thoughtfulness. + +By and by he began to talk, and then she laid down her work to listen. +Some strange chord of the past seemed stirred in the man's heart +to-night. All at once he mentioned his mother; her name was Mildred, he +said, looking into the embers as he spoke; and a little sister whom they +had lost in her childhood had been called Milly too. For their sakes the +name had always been dear to him. She was a good woman, he said, but her +one fault in his eyes had been that she had never loved Margaret; a +certain bitter scene between them had banished his widowed mother from +his house. Margaret had not understood her, and they were better apart; +but it had been a matter of grief to him. + +And then he began to talk of his wife--at first hesitatingly--and then, +as Mildred's silent sympathy seemed to open the long-closed valves, the +repressed sorrow of years began to find vent. Well might Mildred marvel +at the secret strength that had sustained the generous heart in its long +struggle, at 'the charity that suffered so long.' What could there have +been about this woman, that even degradation and shame could not weaken +his faithful love, that even in his misery he should still pity and +cleave to her. + +As though answering her thought, Dr. Heriot suddenly placed a miniature +in her hand. + +'That was taken when I first saw her,' he said, softly; 'but it does not +do her justice; and then, one cannot reproduce that magnificent voice. I +have never heard a voice like it.' + +Mildred bent over it for a moment without speaking; it was the face of a +girl taken in the first flush of her youth; but there was nothing +youthful in the face, which was full of a grave matured beauty. + +The dark melancholy eyes seemed to rivet Mildred's; a wild sorrow lurked +in their inscrutable depths; the brow spoke intellect and power; the +mouth had a passionate, irresolute curve. As she looked at it she felt +that it was a face that might well haunt a man to his sorrow. + +'It is beautiful--beautiful--but it oppresses me,' she said, laying it +down with a sigh. 'I cannot fancy it ever looking happy.' + +'No,' he returned, with a stifled voice. 'Her one trouble embittered her +life. I never remember seeing her look really happy till I placed our +boy in her arms; he taught her to smile first, and then he died, and our +happiness died with him.' + +'You must try to forget all this now,' she said, alluding to his +approaching marriage. 'It is not well to dwell upon so mournful a past.' + +'You are right; I think I shall bury it from this night,' he returned, +with a singular smile. 'I feel as though you have done me good, +Mildred--Miss Lambert--but now I am selfishly keeping you up, after all +your nursing too. Good-night.' + +He held her hand for a moment in both his; his eyes questioned the pale +worn face, anxiously, tenderly. + +'When are you going to get stronger? You do me no credit,' he said, +sadly. + +And his look and tone haunted her, in spite of her efforts. He had +called her Mildred too. + +'How strange that he should have told me all this about his wife. I am +glad he treats me as a friend,' she thought. 'A little while ago I could +not have spoken to him as I have to-night, but his manner puts me at my +ease. How can I help loving one of the noblest of God's creatures?' + +'Can you trust Roy to me this morning, Miss Lambert?' asked Dr. Heriot, +as they were sitting together after breakfast. + +Polly, who was arranging a jar of chrysanthemums, dropped a handful of +flowers on the floor, and stooped to pick them up. + +'I think Roy will like his old nurse best,' she returned, doubtfully. + +But Dr. Heriot looked obstinate. + +'A new regime and a new prescription might be beneficial,' he replied, +with a suspicion of a smile. 'Roy and I must have some conversation +together, and there's no time like the present,' and with a grave, +mischievous bow, he quietly quitted the room. + +'Aunt Milly, I must go and match those wools, and get the books for +Roy,' began Polly, hurriedly, as they were left alone. 'The rain does +not matter a bit, and the air is quite soft and warm.' + +Mildred shook her head. + +'You had better wait an hour or two till it clears up,' she said, +looking dubiously at the wet garden paths and soaking rain. 'I am going +to my own room to write letters. I have one from Olive that I must +answer. If you will wait until the afternoon, Dr. Heriot will go with +you.' + +But Polly was not to be dissuaded; she had nothing to do, she was +restless, and wanted a walk; and Roy must have his third volume when he +came down. + +It was not often that Polly chose to be wilful, and this time she had +her way. Now and then Mildred paused in the midst of her correspondence +to wonder what had detained the girl so long. Once or twice she rose and +went to the window to see if she could catch a glimpse of the dark blue +cloak and black hat but hours passed and she did not return. + +By and by Dr. Heriot's quick eyes saw a swift shadow cross the studio +window; and, as Polly stole noiselessly into the dark passage, she found +herself captured. + +'Naughty child, where have you been?' he said, removing her wet cloak, +and judging for himself that she had sustained no further damage. + +Polly's cheeks, rosy with exercise, paled a little, and she pleaded +piteously to be set free. + +'Just for a moment, Heriot. Please let me go for a moment. I will come +presently.' + +'You are not to be trusted,' he replied, not leaving hold of her. 'Do +you think this excitement is good for Roy--that in his state he can bear +it. He has been dressed and waiting for you for hours. You must think of +him, Polly, not of yourself.' And Polly resisted no longer. + +She followed Dr. Heriot, with downcast eyes, into the studio. Roy was +not on his couch; he was standing on the rug, in his velvet coat; one +thin hand grasped the mantelpiece nervously: the other was stretched out +to Polly. + +'You must not let him excite himself,' was Dr. Heriot's warning, as he +left them together. + +Poor Polly, she stood irresolute, not daring to advance, or look up, and +wishing that the ground would swallow her. + +'Polly--dear Polly--will you not come to me?' and Roy walked feebly to +meet her. Before she could move or answer, his arms were round her. 'My +Polly--my own now,' he cried, rapturously pressing her to him with weak +force; 'Heriot has given you to me.' + +Polly looked up at her young lover shyly. Roy's face was flushed, his +eyes were shining with happiness, a half-proud, half-humble expression +lingered round his mouth; the arm that supported her trembled with +weakness. + +'Oh, Rex, how wrong of me to let you stand,' she said, waking up from +her bewilderment; 'you must lie down, and I will take my old place +beside you.' + +'Yes, he has given you the right to nurse me now,' whispered Roy, as she +arranged the cushions under his head. 'I am more than your adopted +brother now.' And Polly's happy blush was her only answer. + +'You will never refuse to sing to me again?' he said presently, when +their agitation had a little subsided. + +'No, and you will let me have my old ring,' she returned, softly. 'Oh, +Rex, I cried half the night, when you would not let me wear it. I never +cared so much for my beautiful diamonds.' + +A misty smile crossed Roy's face. + +'No, Polly, I never mean to part with it again. Look here,'--and he +showed her the garnets suspended to his watch-chain--'we will exchange +rings in the old German fashion, dear. I will keep the garnets, and I +will buy you the pearl hoop you admired so much; you must remember, you +have chosen only a poor artist.' + +'Oh, Rex, how I shall glory in your pictures!' cried the girl, +breathlessly. 'I have always loved them for your sake, but now it will +be so different. They will be dearer than ever to me.' + +'I never could have worked without you, Polly,' returned the young man, +humbly. 'I tried, but it was a miserable failure; it was your childish +praise that first made me seriously think of being an artist; and when +you failed me, all the spirit seemed to die out of me, just as the +sunshine fades out of a landscape, leaving nothing but a gray mist. Oh, +Polly, even you scarcely know how wretched you made me.' + +'Do not let us talk of it,' she whispered, pressing closer to him; 'let +us only try to deserve our happiness.' + +'That is what he said,' replied Roy, in a low voice. 'He told me that we +were very young to have such a responsibility laid upon us, and that we +must help each other. Oh, what a good man he is,' he continued, with +some emotion, 'and to think that at one time I almost hated him.' + +'You could not help it,' she answered, shyly. To her there was no flaw +in her young lover; his impatience and jealousy, his hot and cold fits +that had so sorely tried her, his singular outbursts of temper, had only +been natural under the circumstances; she would have forgiven him harder +usage than that; but Roy judged himself more truly. + +'No, dear, you must not excuse me,' was the truthful answer. 'I bore my +trouble badly, and made every one round me wretched; and now all these +coals of fire are heaped upon me. If he had been my brother, he could +not have borne with me more gently. Oh,' cried the lad, earnestly, 'it +is something to see into the depths of a good man's heart. I think I saw +more than he meant me to do, but time will prove. One thing is certain, +that he never loved you as I do, Polly.' + +'No; it was all a strange mistake,' she returned, blushing and smiling; +'but hush! here comes Aunt Milly.' + +'Am I interrupting you?' asked Mildred, a little surprised at Polly's +anxious start. + +She had moved a little away from Roy; but now he stretched out his hand +to detain her. + +'No, don't go, Aunt Milly,' and a gleam of mischief shot from his blue +eyes. 'Polly has only been telling me a new version of the old song--"It +is well to be off with the old love before you are on with the new." +After all, Polly has found out that she likes me best.' + +'Children, what do you mean?' returned Mildred, somewhat sternly. + +Polly and even Roy were awed by the change in her manner; a sort of +spasm crossed her face, and then the features became almost rigid. + +'Aunt Milly, don't be angry with us,' faltered Polly; and her breast +heaved a little. Did this dearest and gentlest creature, who had stood +her in the stead of mother, think she was wrong? 'Listen to me, dear; I +would have married Heriot, but he would not let me; he showed me what +was the truth--that my heart was more Roy's than his, and then he +brought us together; it is all his doing, not Roy's.' + +'Yes, it was all my doing,' repeated Dr. Heriot, who had followed +Mildred in unperceived. 'Did I not tell you last night that Polly and I +never understood each other so well;' and he put his arm round the girl +with almost fatherly fondness, as he led her to Mildred. 'You must blame +me, and not this poor child, for all that has happened.' + +But the colour did not return to Mildred's face; she seemed utterly +bewildered. Dr. Heriot wore his inscrutable expression; he looked grave, +but not otherwise unhappy. + +'I suppose it is all for the best,' she said, somewhat unsteadily. 'I +had hoped that Polly would have been a comfort to you, but it seems +you--you are never to have that.' + +'It will come to me in time,' he returned, with a strange smile; 'at +least, I hope so.' + +'Come here, Aunt Milly,' interrupted Roy; and as Mildred stooped over +her boy he looked up in her face with the old Rex-like smile. + +'Dr. Heriot says I should never have lived if it had not been for you, +Aunt Milly. You have given me back my life, and he has given me Polly, +and,' cried the lad, and now his lips quivered, 'God bless you both.' + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +A TALK IN FAIRLIGHT GLEN + + O finer far! What work so high as mine, + Interpreter betwixt the world and man, + Nature's ungathered pearls to set and shrine, + The mystery she wraps her in to scan; + Her unsyllabic voices to combine, + And serve her with such love as poets can; + With mortal words, her chant of praise to bind, + Then die, and leave the poem to mankind?' + + Jean Ingelow. + + +Dr. Heriot did not stay long in London; as soon as his mission was +accomplished he set his face resolutely homewards. + +Christmas was fast approaching, and it was necessary to make +arrangements for Roy's removal to Hastings, and after much discussion +and a plentiful interchange of letters between the cottage and the +vicarage, it was finally settled that Mildred and Richard should remain +with the invalid until Olive and Mr. Lambert should take their place. + +Mr. Lambert was craving for a sight of his boy, but he could not feel +justified in devolving his duties on his curate until after the +Epiphany, nor would Olive consent to leave him; so Mildred bravely +stifled her homesick longings, and kept watch over the young lovers, +smiling to herself over Roy's boyishness and Polly's fruitless efforts +after staidness. + +From the low bow-window jutting on to the beach, in the quiet corner +where Richard had found them lodgings, she would often sit following the +young pair with softly amused eyes as they stood hand in hand with the +waves lapping to their feet; at the first streak of sunset they would +come slowly up the shore. Roy still tall and gaunt, but with a faint +tinge of returning health in his face; Polly fresh and blooming as a +rose, and trying hard to stay her dancing feet to fit his feeble paces. + +'What have you done with Richard, children?' Mildred would ask as usual. + +'Dick? ah, he decamped long ago, with the trite and novel observation +that "two are company and three none." We saw him last in the midst of +an admiring crowd of fishermen. Dick always knows when he is not wanted, +eh, Polly?' + +'I am afraid we treat him very badly,' returned Polly, blushing. Roy +threw himself down on the couch with a burst of laughter. His mirth had +hardly died away when his brother entered. + +'You have got back, Roy--that's right. I was just going in search of +you. There is a treacherous wind this evening. You were standing still +ever so long after I left you.' + +'That comes of you leaving us, you see,' replied Roy, slyly. 'It took us +just half an hour to discover the reason of your abrupt departure.' +Richard's eyes twinkled with dry humour. + +'One must confess to being bored at times. Keppel was far more +entertaining company than you and Polly. When I am in despair for a +little sensible conversation I must come to Aunt Milly.' + +Aunt Milly was the universal sympathiser, as usual. Richard's patience +would have been sorely put to proof, but for those grave-toned talks in +the wintry twilights, with which the gray sea and sky seemed so +strangely to harmonise. In spite of his unselfishness, the sight of his +brother's happiness could not fail to elicit at times a disturbing sense +of contrast. Who could tell what years rolled between him and the +fruition of his hope? + +'In patience and confidence must be your strength, Richard,' Mildred +once said, as they stood looking over the dim waste of waters, gray +everywhere, save where the white lips touched the shore; behind them was +the dark Castle Hill; windy flickers of light came from the esplanade; +far out to sea a little star trembled and wavered like the timid pioneer +of unknown light; a haze of uncertainty bordered earth and sky; the soft +wash of the insidious waves was tuneful and soothing as a lullaby. The +neutral tints, the colourless conditions, neither light nor dark, even +the faint wrapping mist that came like a cloud from the sea, harmonised +with Mildred's feelings as she quoted the text softly. An irrepressible +shiver ran through the young man's frame. Waiting, did he not know what +was before him--years of uncertainty, of alternate hopes and fears. + +'Yes, I know,' he replied, with an accent of impatience in his voice. +'You are right, of course; one can only wait. As for patience, it is +hardly an attribute of youth; one learns it by degrees, but all the +same, uncertainty and these low gray skies oppress one. Sea-fog does not +enhance cheerfulness, Aunt Milly. Let us go in.' + +Richard's moods of discontent were brief and rare. He was battling +bravely with his disappointment. He had always been grave and staid +beyond his years, but now faintly-drawn lines were plainly legible in +the smooth forehead, and a steady concentrated light in the brown eyes +bore witness to abiding and careful thought. At times his brother's +unreasoning boyishness seemed almost to provoke him; want of earnestness +was always a heinous sin in his judgment. Roy more than once winced +under some unpalatable home-truth which Richard uttered in all good +faith and with the best intentions in the world. + +'Dick is the finest fellow breathing, but if he would only leave off +sermonising until he is ordained,' broke out Roy, with a groan, when he +and Mildred were alone; but Mildred was too well aware of their +affection for each other to be made uneasy by any petulance on Roy's +part. He would rail at his brother's advice, and then most likely digest +and follow it; but she gave Richard a little hint once. + +'Leave them alone; their happiness is still so new to them,' pleaded the +softhearted woman. 'You can't expect Rex to look beyond the present yet, +now Polly is with him--when he is stronger he will settle down to work.' +And though Richard shook his head a little incredulously, he wisely held +his peace. + +But he would have bristled over with horror and amazement if he had +known half of the extravagant daydreams and plans which Roy was for ever +pouring into Aunt Milly's ear. Roy, who was as impetuous in his +love-making as in other things, could not be made to understand that +there was any necessity for waiting; that Polly should be due north +while he was due south was clearly an absurdity to his mind, and he +would argue the point until Mildred was fairly bewildered. + +'Rex, my dear boy, do be reasonable,' she pleaded once; 'what would +Richard say if he heard you? You must give up this daft scheme of yours; +it is contrary to all common sense. Why, you have never earned fifty +pounds by your painting yet.' + +'Excuse me, Aunt Milly, but it is so difficult to make women see +anything in a business point of view,' replied the invalid, somewhat +loftily. 'Polly understands me, of course, but she is an exception to +the general rule. I defy any one--even you, Aunt Milly--to beat Polly in +common sense.' + +'He means, of course, if his picture be sold,' returned Polly, sturdily, +who feared nothing in the world but separation from Roy. She was ready +to eat bread and cheese cheerfully all her life, she thought. Both young +people were in the hazy atmosphere of all youthful lovers, when a crust +appears a picturesque and highly desirable food, and rent and taxes and +all such contemptible items are delusions of the evil one, fostered in +the brain of careful parents. + +'Of course Rex only means if his picture sells at a good price. He will +then be sure of work from the dealers.' + +'There, I told you so,' repeated Roy, triumphantly, 'as though Polly did +not know the ups and downs of an artist's life better than you, or even +me, Aunt Milly. It is not as though we expected champagne and silk +dresses, and all sorts of unnecessary luxuries.' + +'Or velvet coats,' quietly added Mildred, and Roy looked a little +crestfallen. + +'Aunt Milly, how can you be so unkind, so disagreeable?' cried Polly, +with a little burst of indignation. 'I shall wear print dresses or cheap +stuff. There was such a pretty one at sevenpence-halfpenny the yard, at +Oliver's; but of course Rex must have his velvet coat, it looks so well +on an artist, and suits him so. I would not have Roy look shabby and out +of elbows, like Dad Fabian, for the world.' + +'You would look very pretty in a print dress, Polly, I don't doubt,' +returned Roy, a little sadly; 'but Aunt Milly is right, and it would not +match my velvet coat. We must be consistent, as Richard says.' + +'Cashmere is not so very dear, and it wears splendidly,' returned Polly, +in the tone of one elated by a new discovery, 'and with a fresh ribbon +now and then I shall look as well as I do now. You don't suppose I mean +to be a slattern if we are ever so poor. But you shall have your velvet +coat, if I have to pawn the watch Dr. Heriot gave me.' And Roy's answer +was not meant for Mildred to hear. + +Mildred felt as though she were turning the page of some story-book as +she listened to their talk. How charmingly unreal it all sounded; how +splendidly coloured with youth and happiness. After all, they were not +ambitious. The rooms at the little cottage at Frognal bounded all their +desires. The studio with the cross light and faded drapery, the worn +couch and little square piano, was to be their living room. Polly was to +work and sing, while Roy painted. Dull! how could they be dull when they +had each other? Polly would go to market, and prepare dainty little +dishes out of nothing; she would train flowers round the porch and under +the windows, and keep chickens in the empty coop by the arbour. With +plenty of eggs and fresh vegetables, their expenses would be trifling. +Dugald had taught Rex to make potato soup and herring salad. Why, he and +Dugald had spent he did not know how little a week, and of course his +father would help him. Polly was penniless and an orphan, and it was his +duty to work for her as well as for himself. + +Mildred wondered what Dr. Heriot would think of the young people's +proposition. As Polly was under age he had a voice in the matter, but +she held her peace on this subject. After all, it was only a daydream--a +very pleasant picture. She was conscious of a vague feeling of regret +that things could not be as they planned. Roy was boyish and impulsive, +but Polly might be trusted, she thought. Every now and then there was a +little spirit of shrewdness and humour in the girl's words that bubbled +to the surface. + +'Roy will always be wanting to buy new books and new music, but I shall +punish him by liking the old ones best,' she said, with a laugh. 'And no +more boxes of cigarettes, or bottles of lavender-water; and oh, Rex, you +know your extravagance in gloves.' + +'I shall only wear them on Sundays,' replied Roy, virtuously, 'and I +shall smoke pipes--an honest meerschaum after all is more enjoyable, and +in the evenings we will take long walks towards Hendon or Barnet. Polly +is a famous walker, and on fine Sundays we will go to Westminister +Abbey, or St. Paul's, or some of the grand old city churches; one can +hear fine music at the Foundling, and at St. Andrew's, Wells Street +Polly does not know half the delights of living in London.' + +'She will know it in good time,' returned Mildred, softly. She would not +take upon herself to damp their expectations; in a little while they +would learn to be reasonable. In the meanwhile she indulged in the +petting that was with her as a second nature. + +But it was a relief when her brother and Olive arrived; she had no idea +how much she had missed them, until she caught sight of her brother's +bowed figure and gray head, and Olive's grave, sallow face beside it. + +It was an exciting evening. Mr. Lambert was overjoyed at seeing his son +again, though much shocked at the still visible evidences of past +suffering. Polly was warmly welcomed with a fatherly blessing, and he +was so much occupied with the young pair, that Mildred was at liberty to +devote herself to Olive. + +She followed her into her room ostensibly to assist in unpacking, but +they soon fell into one of their old talks. + +'Dear Olive,' she said, kissing her, 'you don't know how good it is to +see you again. I never believed I could miss you so much.' + +'You have not missed me half so much as I have you,' returned Olive, +blushing with surprised pleasure. 'I always feel so lost without you, +Aunt Milly. When I wanted you very badly--more than usual, I mean--I +used to go into your room and think over all the comforting talks we +have had together, and then try and fancy what you would tell me to do +in such and such cases.' + +'Dear child, that was drawing from a very shallow well. I remember I +told you to fold up all your perplexities in your letters, and I would +try and unravel them for you; but I see you were afraid of troubling +me.' + +'That was one reason, certainly; but I had another as well. I could not +forget what you told me once about the bracing effects of self-decision +in most circumstances, and how you once laughingly compared me to Mr. +Ready-to-Halt, and advised me to throw away my crutches.' + +'In other words, solving your own difficulties; certainly I meant what I +said. Grown-up persons are so fond of thinking for young people, instead +of training them to think for themselves, and then they are surprised +that the brain struggles so slowly from the swaddling-bands that they +themselves have wrapped round them.' + +'It was easier than I thought,' returned Olive, slowly; 'at first I +tormented myself in my old way, and was tempted to renew my arguments +about conflicting duties, till I remembered there must be a right and +wrong in everything, or at least by comparison a better way.' + +'Why, you have grown quite a philosopher, Olive; I shall be proud of my +pupil,' and Mildred looked affectionately at her niece. What a +noble-looking woman Olive would be, she thought. True, the face was +colourless, and the features far too strongly marked for beauty; but the +mild, dark eyes and shadowy hair redeemed it from plainness, and the +speaking, yet subdued, intelligence that lingered behind the hesitating +speech produced a pleasing impression; yet Mildred, who knew the face so +well, fancied a shadow of past or present sadness tinged the even +gravity that was its prevailing expression. + +Olive's thoughts unfolded slowly like flowers--they always needed the +sunshine of sympathy; a keen breath, the light mockery of incredulity, +killed them on the spot. Now of her own accord she began to speak of the +young lovers. + +'How happy dear Roy looks; Polly is just suited for him. Do you know, +Aunt Milly, I had a sort of presentiment of this, it always seemed to me +that she and Dr. Heriot were making believe to like each other.' + +'I think Dr. Heriot was tolerably in earnest, Olive.' + +'Of course he meant to be; but I always thought there was too much +benevolence for the right thing; and as for Polly--oh, it was easy to +see that she only tried to be in love--it quite tired her out, the +trying I mean, and made her cross and pettish with us sometimes.' + +'I never gave you credit for so much observation.' + +'I daresay not,' returned Olive, simply, 'only one wakes up sometimes to +find things are turning out all wrong. Do you know they puzzled me +to-night--Rex and Polly, I mean. I expected to find them so different, +and they are just the same.' + +'How do you mean? I should think it would be difficult to find two +happier creatures anywhere; they behave as most young people do under +the circumstances, are never willingly out of each other's sight, and +talk plenty of nonsense.' + +'That is just what I cannot make out; it seems such a solemn and +beautiful thing to me, that I cannot understand treating it in any other +way. Why, they were making believe to quarrel just now, and Polly was +actually pouting.' + +Mildred with difficulty refrained from a smile. + +'They do that just for the pleasure of making it up again. If you could +see them this moment you would find them like a pair of cooing doves; it +will be "Poor Rex!" and "Dear Rex!" all the evening. There is no doubt +of his affection for her, Olive; it nearly cost his life.' + +'That is only an additional reason for treating it seriously. If any one +cared for me in that way,' went on Olive, blushing slightly over her +words--'not that I could believe such a thing possible,' interrupting +herself. + +'Why not, you very wise woman?' asked her aunt, amused by this voluntary +confession. Never before had Olive touched on this threadbare and +oft-maligned subject of love. + +'Aunt Milly, as though you could speak of such a thing as probable!' +returned Olive, with a slight rebuke in her voice. 'Putting aside +plainness, and want of attraction, and that sort of thing, do you think +any man would find me a helpmeet?' + +'He must be the right sort of man, of course,'--'a direct opposite to +you in everything,' she was about to add, but checked herself. + +'But if the right sort is not to be found, Aunt Milly?' with a touch of +quaintness that at times tinged her gravity with humour. 'Didn't you +know "Much-Afraid" was an old maid?' + +'We must get rid of all these old names, Olive; they will not fit now.' + +'All the same, of course I know these things are not possible with me. +Imagine being a wet blanket to a man all his life! But what I was going +to say was, that if any one cared for me as Rex does for Polly, I should +think it the next solemn thing to death--quite as beautiful and not so +terrible. Fancy,' warming with the visionary subject, 'just fancy, Aunt +Milly, being burdened with the whole happiness and well-being of +another--never to think alone again!' + +'Dear Olive, you cannot expect all lovers to indulge in these +metaphysics; commonplace minds remain commonplace--the Divinities are +silent within them.' + +'I think this is why I dislike the subject introduced into general +conversation,' replied Olive, pondering heavily over her words; 'people +are for ever dragging it in. So-and-so is to be married next week, and +then a long description of the bride's trousseau and the bridesmaids' +dresses; the idea is as paganish as the undertaker's plume of feathers +and mutes at a funeral.' + +'I agree with you there; people almost always treat the subject +coarsely, or in a matter-of-fact way. A wedding-show is a very pretty +thing to outsiders, but, like you, Olive, I have often marvelled at the +absence of all solemnity.' + +'I suppose it jars upon me more than on others because I dislike talking +on what interests me most. I think sacred things should be treated +sacredly. But how I am wandering on, and there was so much I wanted to +tell you!' + +'Never mind, I will hear it all to-morrow. I must not let you fatigue +yourself after such a journey. Now I will finish the unpacking while you +sit and rest yourself.' + +Olive was too docile and too really weary to resist. She sat silently +watching Mildred's brisk movements, till the puzzled look in the dark +eyes passed into drowsiness. + +'The Eternal voice,' she murmured, as she laid her head on the pillow, +and Mildred bade her good-night, 'it seems to lull one into rest, though +a tired child would sleep without rocking listening to it;' and so the +slow, majestic washing of the waves bore her into dreamland. + +Mildred did not find an opportunity of resuming the conversation until +the following afternoon, when Richard had planned a walk to Fairlight +Glen, in which Polly reluctantly joined; but Mildred, who knew Roy and +his father had much to say to each other, had insisted on not leaving +her behind. + +She was punished by having a very silent companion all the way, as +Richard had carried off Olive; but by and by Polly's conscience pricked +her for ill-humour and selfishness, and when they reached the Glen, her +hand stole into Mildred's muff with a penitent squeeze, and her spirits +rising with the exhilaration of the long walk, she darted off in pursuit +of Olive and brought her back, while she offered herself in her place to +Richard. + +'You have monopolised her all the way, and I know she is dying for a +talk with Aunt Milly; you must put up with me instead,' said the little +lady, defiantly. + +Mildred and Olive meanwhile seated themselves on one of the benches +overlooking the Glen; the spot was sheltered, and the air mild and soft +for January; there were patches of cloudy blue to be seen through the +leafless trees, which looked like a procession of gray, hoary skeletons +in the hazy light. + +'Woods have a beauty of their own in winter,' observed Mildred, as she +noticed Olive's satisfied glance round her. Visible beauty always rested +her, Olive often said. + +'Its attraction is the attraction of death,' returned her companion, +thoughtfully. 'Look at these old giants waiting for their resurrection, +to be "clothed upon," that is just the expression, Aunt Milly.' + +'With their dead hopes at their feet; you are teaching me to be +poetical, Olive. Don't you love the feeling of those crisp yellow leaves +crunching softly under one's feet? I think a leaf-race in a high wind is +one of the most delicious things in nature.' + +'Ask Cardie what he thinks of that.' + +'Cardie would say we are talking highflown nonsense. I can never make +him share my admiration for that soft gray light one sees in winter. I +remember we were walking over Hillsbottom one lovely February afternoon; +the shades of the landscape were utterly indescribable, half light, and +yet so softly blended, the gray tone of the buildings was absolutely +warm--that intense grayness--and all I could get him to say was, that +Kirkby Stephen was a very ugly town.' + +'Roy is more sympathetic about colours; Cardie likes strong contrasts, +decided sunsets, better than the glimmering of moonlight nights; he can +be enthusiastic enough over some things. I have heard him talk +beautifully to Ethel.' + +'By the bye, you have told me nothing of her. Is she still away?' + +'Yes, but they are expecting her back this week or next. It seems such a +pity Kirkleatham is so often empty. Mrs. Delaware says it is quite a +loss to the place.' + +'It is certainly very unsatisfactory; but now about your work, Olive; +how does it progress?' + +Olive hesitated. 'I will talk to you about that presently; there is +something else that may interest you to hear. Do you know Mr. Marsden is +thinking of leaving us?' + +Mildred uttered an expression of surprise and disappointment. 'Oh, I +hope it is not true!' she reiterated, in a regretful tone. + +'You say that because you do not know,' returned Olive, with her wonted +soft seriousness; 'he has told me everything. Only think, Aunt Milly, he +asked my advice, and really seemed to think I could help him to a +decision. Fancy my helping any one to decide a difficult question,' with +a smile that seemed to cover deeper feelings. + +'Why not? it only means that he has recognised your earnestness and +thorough honesty of purpose. There is nothing like honesty to inspire +confidence, Olive. I am sure you would help him to a very wise +decision.' + +'I think he had already decided for himself before he came to me,' +returned the girl, meditatively; 'one can always tell when a man has +made up his mind to do a thing. You see he has always felt an +inclination for missionary work, and this really seems a direct call.' + +'You forget you have not enlightened me on the subject,' hinted Mildred, +gently. + +'How stupid of me, but I will begin from the beginning. Mr. Marsden told +me one morning that he had had letters from his uncle, Archdeacon +Champneys, one of the most energetic workers in the Bloemfontein +Mission. You have read all about it, Aunt Milly, in the quarterly +papers. Don't you recollect how interested we all were about it?' + +'Yes, I remember. Richard seemed quite enthusiastic about it.' + +'Well, the Archdeacon wrote that they were in pressing need of clergy. +Look, I have the letter with me. Mr. Marsden said I might show it to +you. He has marked the passage that has so impressed him.' + + 'I am at my wits' end to know how to induce clergy to come out. + Do you know of any priest who would come to our help? If you + do, for God's sake use your influence to induce him to come. + + 'We want help for the Diamond Fields; Theological College + Brotherhood at Middleport; Itinerating work; Settled Parochial + work at Philippolis and elsewhere. + + 'We want men with strong hearts and active, healthy frames--men + with the true missionary spirit--with fixedness of will and + undaunted purpose, ready to battle against obstacles, and to + endure peacefully the "many petty, prosaic, commonplace, and + harassing trials" that beset a new work. If you know such an + one, bid him Godspeed, and help him to find his way to us. I + promise you we shall see his face as the "face of an angel."' + +'A pressing appeal,' sighed Mildred; she experienced a vague regret she +hardly understood. + +'Mr. Marsden felt it to be such. Oh, I wish you had heard him talk. He +said, as a boy he had always felt a drawing to this sort of work; that +with his health and strength and superabundant energies he was fitter +for the rough life of the colonies than for the secondary and +supplementary life of an ordinary English curate. "Give me plenty of +space and I could do the work of three men," and as he said it he +stretched out his arms. You know his way, Aunt Milly, that makes one +feel how big and powerful he is.' + +'He may be right, but how we shall miss him,' returned Mildred, who had +a thorough respect and liking for big, clumsy Hugh. + +'Not more than he will miss us, he says. He will have it we have done +him so much good; but there is one thing he feels, that Richard will +soon be able to take his place. In any case he will not go until the +autumn, not then if his mother be still alive.' + +'Is he still so hopeless about her condition?' + +'How can he be otherwise, Aunt Milly, when the doctor tells him it is +only a question of time. Did you hear that he has resigned all share in +the little legacy that has lately come to them? He says it will make +them so comfortable that they will not need to keep their little school +any longer; is it not good of him?' went on Olive, warming into +enthusiasm. + +'I think he has done the right thing, just what I should have expected +him to do. And so you have strengthened him in his decision, Olive?' + +'How could I help it?' she returned, simply. 'Can there be any life so +noble, so self-denying? I told him once that I envied him, and he looked +so pleased, and then the tears came into his eyes, and he seemed as +though he wanted to say something, but checked himself. Do you know,' +drooping her head and speaking in a deprecating tone, 'that hearing him +talk like this made me feel dissatisfied with myself and--and my work?' + +'Poor little nightingale! you would rather be a working bee,' observed +Mildred, smiling. This was the meaning then of the shadowed brightness +she had noticed last night. + +'No, but somehow I could not help feeling his work was more real. The +very self-sacrifice it involves sets it apart in a higher place, and +then the direct blessing, Aunt Milly,' with an effort. 'What good does +my poetry do to any one but myself?' + +'St. Paul speaks of the diversities of gifts,' returned Mildred, +soothingly. She saw that daily contact with perfect health and intense +vitality and usefulness had deadened the timid and imaginative forces +that worked beneath the surface in the girl's mind; a warped sense of +duty or fear from the legions of her old enemies had beset her pleasure +with sick loathing--for some reason or other Olive's creative work had +lain idle. + +'Do you recollect the talent laid up in the napkin, Olive?' + +'But if it should not be a talent, rather a temptation,' whispered the +girl, under her breath. 'No, I cannot believe it is that, after all, +Aunt Milly, only I have got weary about it. Have I not chosen the work I +liked best--the easiest, the most attractive?' + +'Do you think a repulsive service would please our beneficent Creator +best?' + +Olive was silent. Were the old shadows creeping round her again? + +'Your work just now seems very small by the side of Mr. Marsden's. His +vocation and consecration to a new work in some way, and by comparison, +overshadows yours; perhaps, unconsciously, his words have left an +unfavourable impression; you know how sensitive you are, Olive.' + +'He never imagined that they could influence me.' + +'No, he is the kindest-hearted being in the world, and would not +willingly damp any one, but all the same he might unconsciously vaunt +his work before your eyes; but before we decide on the reality or +unreality of your talent, I want to recall something to your mind that +this same good Bishop of Bloemfontein said in his paper on women's work. +I remember how greatly I was struck with it. His exact words, as far as +I can remember them, were--"that work--missionary work--demands fair +health, unshattered nerves, and that general equableness of spirits +which so largely depends upon the physical state. A morbid mind or +conscience" (mark that, Olive) "is unfit for the work."' + +'But, Aunt Milly,' blushing slightly, 'I never meant that I thought +myself fit for mission work. You do not think that I would ever leave +papa?' + +'No, but a certain largeness of view may help us to exorcise the uneasy +demon that is harassing you. You may not have Bloemfontein in your +thoughts, but you may be trying to work yourself into the belief that +God may be better pleased if you immolate your favourite and peculiar +talent and devote yourself to some repugnant ministry of good works +where you would probably do more harm than good.' + +'I confess some such thoughts as these have been troubling me.' + +'I read them in your eyes. So genius is given for no purpose but to be +thrown aside like a useless toy. What a degradation of a sacred thing! +How could you be such a traitor to your own order, Olive? This +vacillating mood of yours makes me ashamed.' + +'I wish you would scold me out of it, Aunt Milly; you are doing me good +already. Any kind of doubt makes me positively unhappy, and I really did +begin to believe that I had mistaken my vocation.' + +'Olive will always be Olive as long as she lives,' returned Mildred, in +a grieved tone; but as the girl shrank back somewhat pained, she +hastened to say--'I think doubtfulness--the inward tremblings of the +fibres of hope and fear--are your peculiar temptation. How would you +repel any evil suggestion that came to you, Olive--any unmistakably bad +thought, I mean?' + +'I would try and shut my mind to it, not look at it,' replied Olive, +warmly. + +'Repel it with disdain. Well, I think I should deal with your doubts in +the same way; if they will not yield after a good stand-up fight, +entrench yourself in your citadel and shut the door on them. Every work +of God is good, is it not?' + +'The Bible says so.' + +'Then yours must be good, since He has given you the power and delight +in putting together beautiful thoughts for the pleasure and, I trust, +the benefit of His creatures, and especially as you have dedicated it to +His service. What if after all you are right?' she continued, presently, +'and if it be not the very highest work, can you not be among "the +little ones" that do His will? Will not this present duty and care for +your father and the small daily charities that lie on your threshold +suffice until a more direct call be given to you? It may come--I do not +say it will not, Olive; but I am sure that the present work is your duty +now.' + +'You have lifted a burden off me,' returned Olive, gratefully, and there +was something in the clear shining of her eyes that echoed the truth of +her words; 'it was not that I loved my work less, but that I tried not +to love it. I like what you said, Aunt Milly, about being one of "His +little ones."' + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +'YES' + + 'Some one came and rested there beside me, + Speaking words I never thought would bless + Such a loveless life. I longed to hide me, + Feasting lonely on my happiness. + But the voice I heard + Pleaded for a word, + Till I gave my whispered answer, "Yes!" + + 'Yes, that little word, so calmly spoken, + Changed all life for me--my own--my own! + All the cold gray spell I saw unbroken, + All the twilight days seemed past and gone. + And how warm and bright, + In the ruddy light, + Pleasant June days of the future shone!' + + Helen Marion Burnside. + + +It was with mingled feelings of pleasure and regret that Mildred saw the +gray walls of the vicarage again. It was harder than she imagined to say +good-bye to Roy, knowing that she would not see him again until the +summer, but her position as nurse had long become a sinecure; the place +was now rightfully usurped by his young betrothed. The sea-breezes had +already proved so beneficial to his health, that it was judged that he +might safely be permitted at the end of another month to resume work in +the old studio, by which time idleness and love-making might be expected +to lose their novelty, and Mildred hoped that Polly would settle down +happily with the others, when her good sense should be convinced that an +early marriage would be prejudicial to Roy's interest. + +It was very strange to find Chriss the only welcoming home +presence--Chriss in office was a highly ludicrous idea. She had taken +advantage of her three days' housekeeping to introduce striking reforms +in the _menage_, against which Nan had stormed and threatened in vain; +the housemaid looked harassed, and the parlour-maid on the eve of giving +warning; the little figure with the touzled curls and holland apron, and +rattling keys, depending from the steel chatelaine, looked oddly +picturesque in the house porch as the travellers drove up. When Mr. +Marsden came in after even-song to inquire after their well-being, and +Richard insisted on his remaining to tea, Chriss looked mightily haughty +and put on her eye-glasses, and presided at the head of the table in a +majestic way that tried her aunt's gravity. 'The big young man,' as she +still phrased Hugh Marsden, was never likely to be a favourite with +Chriss; but she thawed presently under Mildred's genial influence; no +one knew so well how to bend the prickles, and draw out the wholesome +sweetness that lay behind. By the end of the third cup, Chriss was able +to remember perfectly that Mr. Marsden did not take sugar, and could +pass his cup without a glacial stare or a tendency to imitate the +swelling and ruffling out of a dignified robin. + +At the end of the evening, Mildred, who had by that time grown a little +weary and silent, heard the footstep in the lobby for which she had been +unconsciously listening for the last two hours. + +'Here comes Dr. John at last,' observed Richard, in strange echo of her +thought. 'I expected he would have met us at the station, but I suppose +he was called away as usual.' + +Dr. Heriot gave no clue to his absence. He shook hands very quietly with +Mildred, and hoped that she was not tired, and then turned to Richard +for news of the invalid; and when that topic was exhausted, seemed +disposed to relapse into a brown study, from which Mildred curiously did +not care to wake him. + +She was quite content to see him sitting there in his old place, playing +absently with her paper-knife, and dropping a word here and there, but +oftener listening to the young men's conversation. Hugh was eagerly +discussing the Bloemfontein question. He and Richard had been warmly +debating the subject for the last hour. Richard was sympathetic, but he +had a notion his friend was throwing himself away. + +'We don't want to lose such men as you out of England, Marsden, that's +the fact. I have always looked upon you as just the sort of hard worker +for a parish at the East end of London. Look at our city Arabs; it +strikes me there is room for missionary work there--not but what South +Africa has a demand on us too.' + +'When a man feels he has a call, there is nothing more to be said,' +replied Hugh, striking himself energetically on his broad chest, and +speaking in his most powerful bass. 'One has something to give up, of +course; all colonial careers involve a degree of hardship and +self-sacrifice; not that I agree with your sister in thinking either the +one or the other point to the right decision. Because we may consider it +our duty to undertake a pilgrimage, it does not follow we need have +pebbles or peas in our shoes, or that the stoniest road is the most +direct.' + +'Of course not.' + +'We don't need these by-laws to guide us; there's plenty of hardship +everywhere, and I hope no amount would frighten me from any work I +undertake conscientiously. It may be pleasanter to remain in England. I +am rather of your opinion myself; but, all the same, when a man feels he +has a call----' + +'I should be the last to dissuade him from it; I only want you to look +at the case in all its bearing. I believe after all you are right, and +that I should do the same in your place.' + +'One ought never to decide too hastily for fear of regretting it +afterwards,' put in Dr. Heriot. Mildred gave him a half-veiled glance. +Why was he so quiet and abstracted, she wondered? Another time he would +have entered with animation into the subject, but now some grave thought +sealed his lips. Could it be that Polly's decision had had more effect +on him than he had chosen to avow--that he felt lonely and out of +spirits? She watched timidly for some opportunity of testing her fears; +she was almost sure that he was dull or troubled about something. + +'Some people are so afraid of deciding wrong that they seldom arrive at +any decision at all,' returned Hugh, with one of his great laughs. + +'All the same, over-haste brings early repentance,' returned Dr. Heriot, +a little bitterly, as he rose. + +'Are you going?' asked Mildred, feeling disappointed by the shortness of +his visit. + +'I am poor company to-night,' he returned, hastily. 'I am in no mood for +general talk. I daresay I shall see you some time to-morrow. By the bye, +how is it Polly has never answered my last letter?' + +'She has sent a hundred apologies. I assure you, she is thoroughly +ashamed of herself; but Roy is such a tyrant, the child has not an hour +to herself.' + +A smile broke over his face. 'I suppose not; it must be very amusing to +watch them. Roy runs a chance of being completely spoiled;' but this +Mildred would not allow. + +She went to bed feeling dissatisfied with herself for her +dissatisfaction. After all, what did she expect? He had behaved just as +any other man would have behaved in his position; he had been perfectly +kind and friendly, had questioned her about her health, and had spoken +of the length of her journey with a proper amount of sympathy. It must +have been some fancy of hers that he had evaded her eyes. After all, +what right had she to meddle with his moods, or to be uneasy because of +his uneasiness? Was not this the future she had planned? a fore-taste of +the long evenings, when the gray-haired friend should quietly sit beside +her, either speaking or silent, according to his will. + +Mildred scolded herself into quietness before she slept. After all, +there was comfort in the thought of seeing him the next day; but this +hope was doomed to be frustrated. Dr. Heriot did not make his +appearance; he sent an excuse by Richard, whom he carried off with him +to Nateby and Winton; an old college friend was coming to dine with him, +and Richard and Hugh Marsden were invited to meet him. Mildred found her +_tete-a-tete_ evening with Chriss somewhat harassing, and would have +gladly taken refuge in silence and a book; but Chriss had begged so hard +to read a portion of the translation of a Greek play on which she was +engaged that it was impossible to refuse, and a noisy hour of +declamation and uncertain utterance, owing to the illegibility of the +manuscript and the screeching remonstrances of Fritter-my-wig, whose +rightful rest was invaded, soon added the discomfort of a nervous +headache to Mildred's other pains and penalties; and when Chriss, +flushed and panting, had arrived at the last blotted page, she had +hardly fortitude enough to give the work all the praise it merited. The +quiet of her own room was blissful by comparison, though it brought with +it a fresh impulse of tormenting thoughts. Why was it that, with all her +strength of will, she had made so little progress; that the man was +still so dangerously dear to her; that even without a single hope to +feed her, he should still be the sum and substance of her thoughts; that +all else should seem as nothing in comparison with his happiness and +peace of mind? + +That he was far from peace she knew; her first look at him had assured +her of that. And the knowledge that it was so had wrought in her this +strange restlessness. Would he ever bring himself to speak to her of +this fresh blank in his existence? If it should be so, she would bid him +go away for a little time; in some way his life was too monotonous for +him; he must seek fresh interests for himself; the vicarage must no +longer inclose his only friends. He had often spoken to her of his love +for travel, and had more than once hinted at a desire to revisit the +Continent; why should she not persuade him that a holiday lay within the +margin of his duty; she would willingly endure his absence, if he would +only come back brighter and fresher for his work. + +Fate had, however, decreed that Mildred's patience should be sorely +tested, for though she looked eagerly for his coming all the next day, +the opportunity for which she longed did not arrive. Dr. Heriot still +held aloof, and the word in season could not be spoken. The following +day was Sunday, but even then things were hardly more satisfactory; a +brief hand-shake in the porch after evening service, and an inquiry +after Roy, was all that passed between them. + +'He is beyond any poor comfort that I can give him,' thought Mildred, +sorrowfully, as she groped her way through the dark churchyard paths. +'He looks worn and harassed, but he means to keep his trouble to +himself. I will try to put it all out of my head; it ought to be nothing +to me what he feels or suffers,' and she lay awake all night trying to +put this prudent resolve into execution. + +The next afternoon she walked over to Nateby to look up some of her old +Sunday scholars. It was a mild, wintry afternoon; a gray haziness +pervaded everything. As she passed the bridge she lingered for a moment +to look down below on the spot which was now so sacred to her; the sight +of the rocks and foaming water made her cover her face with a mute +thanksgiving. Imagination could not fail to reproduce the scene. Again +she felt herself crashing amongst the cruel stones, and saw the black, +sullen waters below her. 'Oh, why was I saved? to what end--to what +purpose?' she gasped, and then added penitently, 'Surely not to be +discontented, and indulge in impossible fancies, but to devote a rescued +life to the good of others.' + +Mildred was so occupied with these painful reflections that she did not +hear carriage-wheels passing in the road below the bridge, and was +unaware that Dr. Heriot had descended and thrown the reins to a passing +lad, and was now making his way towards her. + +His voice in her ear drove the blood to her heart with the sudden start +of surprise and pleasure. + +'We always seem fated to meet in this place,' he laughed, feigning not +to notice her embarrassment, but embarrassed himself by it. 'Coop Kernan +Hole must have a secret attraction for both of us. I find myself always +driving slowly over the bridge, as though I were following a friend's +possible funeral.' + +'As you might have done,' she returned, with a grateful glance that +completed her sentence. + +'Shall we go down and look at it more closely?' he asked, after a +moment's silence, during which he had revolved some thought in his mind. +'I have an odd notion that seeing it again may lay the ghost of an +uneasy dream that always haunts me. After a harder day's work than +usual, this scene is sure to recur to me at night; sometimes I have to +leave you there, you have floated so far out of my reach,' with a +meaning movement of his hand. Mildred shuddered. + +'Shall we come--that is--if you do not much dislike the idea,' and as +Mildred saw no reason for refusing, she overcame her feelings of +reluctance, and followed him through the little gate, and down the steep +steps beyond which lay the uneven masses of gray brockram. There he +waited for her with outstretched hand. + +'You need not think that I shall trust you to your own care again,' he +said, with rather a whimsical smile, but as he felt the trembling that +ran through hers, it vanished, and he became unusually grave. In another +moment he checked her abruptly, and almost peremptorily. 'We will not go +any farther; your hand is not steady enough, you are nervous.' Mildred +in vain assured him to the contrary; he insisted that she should sit +down for a few moments, and, in spite of her protestations, took off his +great-coat and spread it on the rock. 'I am warm, far too warm,' he +asserted, when he saw her looks of uneasiness. 'This spot is so +sheltered;' and he stood by her and lifted his hat, as though the cool +air refreshed him. + +'Do you remember our conversation on the other side of the bridge?' he +asked presently, turning to her. Mildred flushed with sudden pain--too +well she remembered it, and the long night of struggle and well-nigh +despair that had followed it. + +'I wonder what you thought of me; you were very quiet, very sweet-voiced +in your sympathy; but I fancied your eyes had a distrustful gleam in +them; they seemed to doubt the wisdom of my choice. Mildred,' with a +quick touch of passion in his voice such as she had never heard before, +'what a fool you must have thought me!' + +'Dr. Heriot, how can you say such things?' but her heart beat faster; he +had called her Mildred again. + +'Because I must and will say them. A man must call himself names when he +has made such a pitiful thing of life. Look at my marrying Margaret--a +mistake from beginning to end; and yet I must needs compass a second +piece of folly.' + +'There, I think you are too hard on yourself.' + +'What right had I at my age, or rather with my experience and knowledge +of myself, to think I could make a young girl happy, knowing, as I ought +to have known, that her endearing ways could not win her an entrance +into the deepest part of my nature--that would have been closed for +ever,' speaking in a suppressed voice. + +'It was a mistake for which no one could blame you--Polly least of all,' +she returned, eager to soothe this wounded susceptibility. + +'Dear Polly, it was her little fingers that set me free--that set both +of us free. Coop Kernan Hole would have taught me its lesson too late +but for her.' + +'What do you mean?' asked Mildred, startled, and trying to get a glimpse +of his face; but he had turned it from her; possibly the uncontrolled +muscles and the flash of the eye might have warned her without a word. + +'What has it taught you?' she repeated, feeling she must get to the +bottom of this mystery, whatever it might cost her. + +'That it was not Polly whom I loved,' he returned, in a suppressed +voice, 'but another whom I might have lost--whom Coop Kernan Hole might +have snatched from me. Did you know this, Mildred?' + +'No,' she faltered. 'I do not believe it now,' she might have added if +breath had not failed her. In her exceeding astonishment, to think such +words had blessed her ear, it was impossible--oh, it was impossible--she +must hear more. + +'I am doubly thankful to it,' he repeated, stooping over her as she sat, +that the fall might not drown his voice; 'its dark waters are henceforth +glorified to me. Never till that day did I know what you were to me; +what a blank my life would be to me without you. It has come to +this--that I cannot live without you, Mildred--that you are to me what +no other woman, not even Margaret, not even my poor wife, has been to +me.' + +She buried her face in her trembling hands. Not even to him could she +speak, until the pent-up feelings in her heart had resolved themselves +into an inward cry, 'My God, for this--for these words--I thank thee!' + +He watched her anxiously, as though in doubt of her emotion. Love was +making him timid. After all, could he have misunderstood her words? 'Do +not speak to me yet. I do not ask it; I do not expect it,' he said, +touching her hand to make her look at him. 'You shall give me your +answer when you like--to-morrow--a week hence--you shall have time to +think of it. By and by I must know what you have for me in return, and +whether my blindness and mistake have alienated you, but I will not ask +it now.' He moved from her a few steps, and came hurriedly back; but +Mildred, still pale from uncontrollable feeling, would not raise her +eyes. 'I may be wrong in thinking you cared for me a little. Do you +remember what you said? "John, save me!" Mildred, I do not deserve it; I +have brought it all on myself, and I will try and be patient; but when +you can come to me and say, "John, I love you; I will be your wife," you +will remove a mountain-load of doubt and uncertainty. Ah, Mildred, +Mildred, will you ever be able to say it?' His emotion, his sensitive +doubts, had overmastered him; he was as deadly pale as the woman he +wooed. Again he turned away, but this time she stopped him. + +'Why need you wait? you must know I----,' but here the soft voice +wavered and broke down; but he had heard enough. + +'What must I know?--that you love me?' + +'Yes,' was all her answer; but she raised her eyes and looked at him, +and he knew then that the great loneliness of his life was gone for +ever. + +And Mildred, what were her thoughts as she sat with her lover beside +her, looking down at the sunless pool before them? here, where she had +grappled with death, the crowning glory of her life was given to her, +the gray colourless hues had faded out of existence, the happiness for +which she had not dared to ask, which the humble creature had not +whispered even in her prayers, had come to her, steeping her soul with +wondrous content and gratitude. + +And out of her happiness came a great calm. For a little while neither +of them spoke much, but the full understanding of that sacred silence +lay like a pure veil between them. They were neither young, both had +known the mystery of suffering--the man held in his heart a dreary past, +and Mildred's early life had been passed in patient waiting; but what +exuberance of youthful joy could equal the quietude of their entire +satisfaction? + +'Mildred, it seems to me that I must have loved you unconsciously +through it all,' he said, presently, when their stillness had spent +itself; 'somehow you always rested me. It had grown a necessity with me +to come and tell you my troubles; the very sound of your voice soothed +me.' + +One of her beautiful smiles answered him. She knew he was right, and she +had been more to him than he had guessed. Had not this consciousness +added the bitterest ingredient to her misery, the knowledge that he was +deceiving himself, that no one could give him what was in her power to +give? + +'But I never thought it possible until lately that you could care enough +for me,' he continued; 'you seemed so calm, so beyond this sort of +earthly passion. Ah, Mildred,' half-gravely, half-caressingly, 'how +could you mislead me so? All my efforts to break down that quiet reserve +seemed in vain.' + +'I thought it right; how could I guess it would ever come to this?' she +answered, blushing. 'I can hardly believe it now'; but the answer to +this was so full and satisfactory that Mildred's last lingering doubt +was dispelled for ever. + +It was late in the afternoon when they parted at the vicarage gate; the +dark figure in the wintry porch escaped their observation in the +twilight, and so the last good-bye fell on Ethel Trelawny's astonished +ear. + +'It is not good-bye after all, Mildred; I shall see you again this +evening,' in Dr. Heriot's voice; 'take care of yourself, my dearest, +until then;' and the long hand-clasp that followed his words spoke +volumes. + +When Mildred entered the drawing-room she gave a little start at the +sight of Ethel. The girl held out her hand to her with a strange smile. + +'Mildred, I was there and heard it. What he called you, I mean. +Darling--darling, I am so glad,' breaking off with a half-sob and +suddenly closing her in her arms. + +For a moment Mildred seemed embarrassed. + +'Dear Ethel, what do you mean? what could you have heard?' + +'That he called you by your name. I heard his voice; it was quite +enough; it told me everything, and then I closed the door. Oh, Mildred! +to think he has come to an end of his blindness and that he loves you at +last.' + +'Yes; does it not seem wonderful?' returned Mildred, simply. Her fair +face was still a little flushed, her eyes were soft and radiant; in her +happiness she looked almost lovely. Ethel knelt down beside her in a +little effusion of girlish worship and sympathy. + +'Did he tell you how beautiful you are, Mildred? No, you shall let me +talk what nonsense I like to-night. I do not know when I have felt so +happy. Does Richard know?' + +'No one knows.' + +'Am I the first to wish you joy then, Mildred? I never was so glad about +anything before. I could sing aloud in my gladness all the way from here +to Kirkleatham.' + +'Dear Ethel, this is so like you.' + +'To think of the misery of mind you have both caused me, and now that it +has come all right at last. Is he very penitent, Mildred?' + +'He is very happy,' she replied, smiling over the girl's enthusiasm. + +'How sweetly calm you look. I should not feel so in your place. I should +be pining for my lost liberty, I verily believe. How long have you +understood each other? Ever since Roy and Polly have come to their +senses?' + +'No, indeed; only this afternoon.' + +'Only this afternoon?' incredulously. + +'Yes; but it seems ages ago already. Ethel, you must not mind if I +cannot talk much about this; it is all so new, you see.' + +'Ah, I understand.' + +'I knew how pleased you would be, you always appreciated him so; at one +time I could have sooner believed you the object of his choice; till you +assured me otherwise,' smoothing the wavy ripples of hair over Ethel's +white forehead. + +'Women do not often marry their heroes; Dr. Heriot was my hero,' laughed +the girl. 'I chose you for him the first day I saw you, when you came to +meet me, looking so graceful in your deep mourning; your face and mild +eyes haunted me, Mildred. I believe I fell in love with you then.' + +'Hush, here comes Richard,' interrupted Mildred softly, and Ethel +instantly became grave and rose to her feet. + +But for once he hardly seemed to see her. + +'Aunt Milly, my dear Aunt Milly,' he exclaimed, with unusual warmth, 'do +you know what a little bird has told me?' he whispered, stooping his +handsome head to kiss her. + +'Oh, Cardie! do you know already? Have you met him?' + +'Yes, and he will be here presently. Aunt Milly, I don't know what we +are to do without you, but all the same Dr. John shall have you. He is +the only man who is worthy of Aunt Milly.' + +'There, that will do, you have not spoken to Ethel yet.' + +Oh, how Mildred longed to be alone with her thoughts, and yet the sound +of her lover's praises were very sweet to her; he was Richard's hero as +well as Ethel's, she knew, but with Richard's entrance Ethel seemed to +think she must be going. + +'It is so late now, but I will come again to-morrow;' and then as +Mildred bade her good-night she said another word or two of her +exceeding gladness. + +She would fain have declined Richard's escort, but he offered her no +excuse. She found him waiting for her at the gate, and knew him too well +to hope for her own way in this. She could only be on her guard and +avoid any dangerous subject. + +'You will all miss her dreadfully,' she said, as they crossed the +market-place in full view of Dr. Heriot's house. 'I don't think any of +you can estimate the blank her absence will leave at the vicarage.' + +'I can for one,' he replied, gravely. 'Do you think I can easily forget +what she has done for us since our mother died? But we shall not lose +her--not entirely, I mean.' + +'No, indeed.' + +'Humanly speaking I think their chances of happiness are greater than +that of any one. I know that they are so admirably suited to each other. +Aunt Milly will give him just the rest he needs.' + +'I should not be surprised if he will forget all his bitter past then. +But, Richard, I want to speak to you; you have not seen my father +lately?' + +'Not for months,' he replied, startled at the change in her tone; all at +once it took a thin, harassed note. + +'He has decided to stand for the Kendal election, though more than one +of his best friends have prophesied a certain defeat. Richard, I cannot +help telling you that I dread the result.' + +'You must try not to be uneasy,' he returned, with that unconscious +softening in his voice that made it almost caressing. 'You must know by +this time how useless it is to try to shake his purpose.' + +'Yes, I know that,' she returned, dejectedly; 'but all the same I feel +as though he were contemplating suicide. He is throwing away time and +money on a mere chimera, for they say the Radical member will be +returned to a certainty. If he should be defeated'--pausing in some +emotion. + +'Oh, he must take his chance of that.' + +'You do not know; it will break him down entirely. He has set his heart +on this thing, and it will go badly with both of us if he be +disappointed. Last night it was dreadful to hear him talk. More than +once he said that failure would be social death to him. It breaks my +heart to see him looking so ill and yet refusing any sympathy that one +can offer him.' + +'Yes, I understand; if I could only help you,' he returned, in a +suppressed voice. + +'No one can do that--it has to be borne,' was the dreary answer; and +just then the lodge gates of Kirkleatham came in sight. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +JOHN HERIOT'S WIFE + + 'Whose sweet voice + Should be the sweetest music to his ear, + Awaking all the chords of harmony; + Whose eye should speak a language to his soul + More eloquent than all that Greece or Rome + Could boast of in its best and happiest days; + Whose smile should be his rich reward for toil; + Whose pure transparent cheek pressed to his + Would calm the fever of his troubled thoughts, + And woo his spirits to those fields Elysian, + The Paradise which strong affection guards.' + + Bethune. + + +And so when her youth was passed Mildred Lambert found the great +happiness of her life, and prepared herself to be a noble helpmeet to +the man to whom unconsciously she had long given her heart. + +This time there were no grave looks, no dissentient voice questioning +the wisdom of Dr. Heriot's choice; a sense of fitness seemed to satisfy +the most fastidious taste; neither youth nor beauty were imperative in +such a case. Mildred's gentleness was the theme of every tongue. Her +tender, old-fashioned ways were discovered now to be wonderfully +attractive; a hundred instances of her goodness and unselfishness +reached her lover's ears. + +'Every one seems to have fallen in love with you, Mildred,' he said to +her one sweet spring evening when he had crossed the market-place for +his accustomed evening visit. Mildred was alone as usual; the voices of +the young people sounded from the terrace; Olive and Richard were +talking together; Polly was leaning against the wall reading a letter +from Roy; the evening sun streamed through the window on Mildred's soft +brown hair and gray silk, on the great bowls of golden primroses, on the +gay tints of the china; a little green world lay beyond the bay window, +undulating waves of grass, a clear sparkle of water, dim blue mists and +lines of shadowy hills. + +Mildred lifted her quiet eyes; their smiling depths seemed to hold a +question and reproof. + +'Every one thinks it their duty to praise you to me,' he continued, in +the same amused tone; 'they are determined to enlighten me about the +goodness of my future wife. They do not believe how well I know that +already,' with a strange glistening in his eyes. + +'Please do not talk so, John,' she whispered. 'I should not like you to +think too well of me, for fear I should, ever disappoint you.' + +'Do you believe that would be possible?' he asked, reproachfully. + +Then she gave him one of her lovely smiles. + +'No, I do not,' she returned, simply; 'because, though we love each +other, we do not believe each other perfect. You have often called me +self-willed, John, and I daresay you are right.' + +He laughed a little at that; her quaint gentleness had often amused him; +he knew he should always hear the truth from her. She would tell him of +her faults over and over again, and he would listen to them gravely and +pretend to believe them rather than wound her exquisite susceptibility; +but to himself he declared that she had no flaw--that she was the +dearest, the purest, a pearl among women. Mildred would have shrunk in +positive pain and humility if she had known the extravagant standard to +which he had raised her. + +Sometimes he would crave to know her opinion of him in return. Like many +men, he was morbidly sensitive on this point, and was inclined to take +blame to himself where he did not deserve it, and she would point out +his errors to him in the simplest way, and so that the most delicate +self-consciousness could not have been hurt. + +'What, all those faults, Mildred?' he would say, with a pretence at a +sigh. 'I thought love was blind.' + +'I could never be blind about anything that concerns you, John,' she +would return, in the sweetest voice possible; 'our faults will only bind +us all the closer to each other. Is not that what helpmeet means?' she +went on, a soft gravity stealing over her words,--'that I should try to +help you in everything, even against yourself? I always see faults +clearest in those I love best,' she finished, somewhat shyly. + +'The last is the saving clause,' he replied, with a look that made her +blush. 'In this case I shall have no objection to be told of my +wrong-doings every day of my life. What a blessing it is that you have +common sense enough for both. I am obliged to believe what you tell me +about yourself of course, and mean to act up to my part of our contract, +but at present I am unable to perceive the most distant glimmer of a +fault.' + +'John!' + +'Seriously and really, Mildred, I believe you to be as near perfection +as a living woman can be,' and when Dr. Heriot spoke in this tone +Mildred always gave up the argument with a sigh. + +But with all her self-accusations Mildred promised to be a most +submissive wife. Already she proved herself docile to her lover's +slightest wish. She did not even remonstrate when Dr. Heriot pleaded +with her brother and herself that an early day should be fixed for the +marriage; for herself she could have wished a longer delay, but he was +lonely and wanted her, and that was enough. + +Perhaps the decision was a little difficult when she thought of Olive, +but the time once fixed, there was no hesitation. She went about her +preparations with a quiet precision that made Dr. Heriot smile to +himself. + +'One would think you are planning for somebody else's wedding, not your +own,' he said once, when she came down to him with her face full of +gentle bustle; 'come and sit down a little; at least I have the right to +take care of you now, you precious woman.' + +'Yes; but, John, I am so busy; I have to think for them all, you know; +and Olive, poor girl, is so scared at the thought of her +responsibilities, and Richard is so occupied he cannot spare me time for +anything,' for Richard, now in deacon's orders, was working up the +parish under Hugh Marsden's supervision. Hugh had lost his mother, and +had finally yielded his great heart and strength to the South African +Mission. + +'But there is Polly?' observed Dr. Heriot. + +'Yes, there is Polly until Roy comes,' she returned, with a smile. 'She +is my right hand at present, until he monopolises her; but one has to +think for them all, and arrange things.' + +'You shall have no one but yourself to consider by and by,' was his +lover-like reply. + +'Oh, John, I shall only have time then to think of you!' was her quiet +answer. + +And so one sweet June morning, when the swathes and lines of new-mown +hay lay in the crofts round Kirkby Stephen, and while the little +rush-bearers were weaving their crowns for St. Peter's Day, and the +hedges were thick with the pink and pearly bloom of brier roses, Mildred +Heriot stood leaning on her husband's arm in St. Stephen's porch. + +Merrily the worn old bells were pealing out, the sunlight streamed +across the market-place, the churchyard paths, and the paved lanes, and +the windows of the houses abutting on the churchyard, were crowded with +sympathising faces. + +Not young nor beautiful, save to those who loved her; yet as she stood +there in her soft-eyed graciousness, many owned that they had never seen +a sweeter-faced bride. + +'My wife, is this an emblem of our future life?' whispered Dr. Heriot, +as he led her proudly down the path, almost hidden by the roses her +little scholars' hands had strewn; but Mildred's lip quivered, and the +pressure of her hand on his arm only answered him. + +'How had she deserved such happiness?' the humble soul was asking +herself even at this supreme moment. Under her feet lay the fast-fading +roses, but above and around spread the pure arc of central blue--the +everlasting arms of a Father's providence about her everywhere. Before +them was the gray old vicarage, now no longer her home, the soft violet +hills circling round it; above it a heavy snow-white cloud drooped +heavily, like a guardian angel in mid-air; roses, and sunlight, and +God's heavenly blue. + +'Oh, it is all so beautiful!--how is one to deserve such happiness?' she +thought; and then it came to her that this was a free gift, a loan, a +talent that the Father had given to be used for the Master's service, +and the slight trembling passed away, and the beautiful serene eyes +raised themselves to her husband's face with the meek trustfulness of +old. + +Mildred was not too much engrossed even in her happiness to notice that +Olive held somewhat aloof from her through the day. Now and then she +caught a glimpse of a weary, abstracted face. Just as she had finished +her preparations for departure, and the travelling carriage had driven +into the courtyard, she sent Ethel and Polly down on some pretext, and +went in search of her favourite. + +She found her in the lobby, sitting on the low window-seat, looking +absently at the scene below her. The courtyard of the vicarage looked +gay enough; the horses were champing their bits, and stamping on the +beck gravel; the narrow strip of daisy turf was crowded with moving +figures; Polly, in her pretty bridesmaid's dress, was talking to Roy; +Ethel stood near them, with Richard and Hugh Marsden; Dr. Heriot was in +the porch in earnest conversation with Mr. Lambert. Beyond lay the quiet +churchyard, shimmering in the sunlight; the white, crosses gleamed here +and there; the garlands of sweet-smelling flowers still strewed the +paths. + +'Dear Olive, are you waiting for me? I wanted just to say a last word or +two;' and Mildred sat down beside her in her rich dress, and took the +girl's listless hand in hers. 'Promise me, my child, that you will do +the best for yourself and them.' + +'It will be a poor best after you, Aunt Milly,' returned Olive, with a +grateful glance at the dear face that had been her comfort so long. It +touched her that even now she should be remembered; with an impulse that +was rare with her she put her arms round Mildred, and laid her face on +her shoulder. 'Aunt Milly, I never knew till to-day what you were to +me--to all of us.' + +'Am I not to be Aunt Milly always, then?' for there was something +ineffably sad in the girl's voice. + +'Yes, but we can no longer look to you for everything. We shall miss you +out of our daily life. I do not mean to be selfish, Aunt Milly. I love +to think of your happiness; but all the same I must feel as though +something has passed out of my life.' + +'I understand, dear. You know I never think you selfish, Olive. Now I +want you to do something for me--a promise you must make me on my +wedding-day.' + +A flickering smile crossed Olive's pale face. 'It must not be a hard +one, then.' + +'It is one you can easily keep,--promise me to try to bear your failures +hopefully. You will have many; perhaps daily ones. I am leaving you +heavy responsibilities, my poor child; but who knows? They may be +blessings in disguise.' + +An incredulous sigh answered her. + +'It will be your own fault if they do not prove so. When you fail, when +things go wrong, think of your promise to me, and be patient with +yourself. Say to yourself, "It is only one of Olive's mistakes, and she +will try to do better next time." Do you understand me, my dear?' + +'Yes, I will try, Aunt Milly.' + +'I am leaving you, my darling, with a confidence that nothing can shake. +I do not fear your goodness to others, only to this weary self,' with a +light caressing touch on the girl's bowed head and shoulders. 'Hitherto +you have leaned on me; I have been your crutch, Olive. Now you will rely +on yourself. You see I do not make myself miserable about leaving you. I +think even this is ordered for the best.' + +'Yes, I know. How dear of you to say all this! But I must not keep you. +Hark, they are calling you!' + +Mildred rose with a blush; she knew the light agile step on the stairs. +In another moment Dr. Heriot's dark face appeared. + +'They are waiting, Mildred; we have not a moment to lose. You must come, +my dear wife!' + +'One moment, John'; and as she folded the girl in a long embrace, she +whispered, 'God bless my Olive!' and then suffered him to lead her away. + +But when the last good-byes were said, and the carriage door was closed +by Richard, Mildred looked up and waved her hand towards the lobby +window. She could see the white dress and dusky halo of hair, the +drooping figure and tightly locked hands; but as the sound of the wheels +died away in the distance, Olive hid her face in her hands and prayed, +with a burst of tears, that the promise she had made might be faithfully +kept. + +An hour later, Richard found her still sitting there, looking spent and +weary, and took her out to walk with him. + +'The rest have all started for Podgill. We will follow them more +leisurely. The air will refresh us both, Olive;' stealing a glance at +the reddened eyelids, that told their own tale. Olive so seldom shed +tears, that the relief was almost a luxury to her. She felt less +oppressed now. + +'But Ethel--where is she, Cardie?' unwilling to let him sacrifice +himself for her pleasure. She little knew that Richard was carrying out +Mildred's last injunctions. + +'I leave Olive in your care; be good to her, Richard,' she had said as +he had closed the carriage door on her, and he had understood her and +given her an affirmative look. + +'Ethel has a headache, and has gone home,' he replied. 'She feels this +as much as any of us; she did not like breaking up the party, but I saw +how much she needed quiet, and persuaded her. She wants you to go up +there to-morrow and talk to her.' + +'But, Cardie,' stopping to look at him, 'I am sure you have a headache +too.' + +'So I have, and it is pretty bad, but I thought a walk would do us both +good, and we might as well be miserable together, to tell you the +truth,' with an attempt at a laugh. 'I can't stand the house without +Aunt Milly, and I thought you were feeling the same.' + +'Dear Cardie, how good of you to think of me at all,' returned Olive, +gratefully. Her brother's evident sympathy was already healing in its +effects. Just now she had felt so lonely, so forlorn, it made her better +to feel that he was missing Aunt Milly too. + +She looked up at him in her mild affectionate way as he walked beside +her. She thought, as she had often thought before, how well the +straitly-cut clerical garb became him--its severe simplicity suiting so +well the grave young face. How handsome, how noble he must look in +Ethel's eyes! + +'We are so used to have Aunt Milly thinking for us, that it will be hard +to think for ourselves,' she went on presently, when they were walking +down by the weir. 'You will have to put up with a great deal from me, +and to be very patient, though you are always that now, Cardie.' + +'Am I?' he returned, touched by her earnestness. Olive had always been +loyal to him, even when he had most neglected her; and he had neglected +her somewhat of late, he thought. 'I will tell you what we must do, +Livy; we must try to help each other, and to be more to each other than +we have been. You see Rex has Polly, but I have no one, not even Aunt +Milly now; at least we cannot claim her so much now.' + +'You have Ethel, Cardie.' + +'Yes, but not in the way I want,' he returned, the sensitive colour +flitting over his face. He could never hear or speak her name unmoved; +she was far more to him now than she had ever been, when he thought of +her less as the youthful goddess he had adored in his boyish days, than +as the woman he desired to have as his wife. He no longer cast a glamour +of his own devising over her image--faulty as well as lovable he knew +her to be; but all the same he craved her for his own. + +'Not one man in a hundred, not one in a thousand, would make her happy,' +he said more than once to himself; 'but it is because I believe myself +to be that man that I persevere. If I did not think this, I would take +her at her word and go on my way.' + +Now, as he answered Olive, a sadness crossed his face, and she saw it. +Might it not be that she could help him even here? He had talked about +his trouble to Aunt Milly, she knew. Could she not win him to some, +confidence in herself? Here was a beginning of the work Aunt Milly had +left her. + +'Dear Cardie, I should so like it if you would talk to me sometimes +about Ethel,' she said, hesitating, as though fearing how he would like +it. 'I know how often it makes you unhappy. I can always see just when +it is troubling you, but I never could speak of it before.' + +'Why not, Livy?' not abruptly, but questioning. + +'One is so afraid of saying the wrong things, and then you might not +have liked it,' stammering in her old way. + +'I must always like to talk of what is so dear to me,' he replied, +gravely. 'I could as soon blot out my own individuality, as blot out the +hope of seeing Ethel my future wife; and in that case, it were strange +indeed if I did not love to talk of her.' + +'Yes, and I have always felt as though it must come right in the end,' +interposed Olive, eagerly; 'her manner gives me that impression.' + +'What impression?' he asked, startled by her earnestness. + +'I can't help thinking she cares for you, though she does not know it; +at least she will not allow herself to know it. I have seen her draw +herself so proudly sometimes when you have left her. I am sure she is +hardening her heart against herself, Cardie.' + +A faint smile rose to his lips. 'Livy, who would have thought you could +have said such comforting things, just when I was losing heart too?' + +'You must never do that,' she returned, in an old-fashioned way that +amused him, and yet reminded him somehow of Mildred. 'Any one like you, +Cardie, ought never to lose courage.' + +'Courage, Coeur-de-Lion!' he returned, mimicking her tone more gaily +as his spirits insensibly rose under the sisterly flattery. 'God bless +her! she is worth waiting for; there is no other woman in the world to +me. Who would have thought we should have got on this subject to-day, of +all days in the year? but you have done me no end of good, Livy.' + +'Then I have done myself good,' she returned, simply; and indeed some +sweet hopeful influence seemed to have crept on her during the last +half-hour; she thought how Mildred's loving sympathy would have been +aroused if she could have told her how Richard and she had mutually +comforted themselves in their dulness. But something still stranger to +her experience happened that night before she slept. + +She was lying awake later than usual, pondering over the events of the +day, when a stifled sound, strongly resembling a sob promptly swallowed +by a simulated yawn, reached her ear. + +'Chrissy, dear, is there anything the matter?' she inquired, anxiously, +trying to grope her way to the huddled heap of bed-clothes. + +'No, thank you,' returned Chriss, with dignity; 'what should be the +matter? good-night. I believe I am getting sleepy,' with another +artfully-constructed yawn which did not in the least deceive Olive. + +Chrissy was crying, that was clear; and Olive's sympathy was wide-awake +as usual; but how was she with her clumsy, well-meaning efforts to +overcome the prickles? + +Chriss was well known to have a soul above sympathy, which she generally +resented as impertinent; nevertheless Olive's voice grew aggravatingly +soft. + +'I thought perhaps you might feel dull about Aunt Milly,' she began, +hesitating; 'we do--and so----' + +'I don't know, I am sure, whom you mean by your aggravating we's,' +snapped Chriss; 'but it is very hard a person can't have their feelings +without coming down on them like a policeman and taking them in charge.' + +'Well, then, I won't say another word, Chriss,' returned her sister, +good-humouredly. + +But this did not mollify Chriss. + +'Speaking won't hurt a person when they are sore all over,' she replied, +with her usual contradiction. 'I hate prying, of course, and it is a +pity one can't enjoy a comfortable little cry without being put through +one's catechism. But I do want Aunt Milly. There!' finished Chriss, with +another ominous shaking of the bed-clothes; 'and I want her more than +you do with all your mysterious we's.' + +'I meant Cardie,' replied Olive, mildly, too much used to Chriss's +oddities to be repulsed by them. 'You have no idea how much he misses +her and all her nice quiet ways.' + +Chriss stopped her ears decidedly. + +'I don't want to hear anything about Aunt Milly; you and Richard made +her a sort of golden image. It is very unkind of you, Olive, to speak +about her now, when you know how horrid and disagreeable and cross and +altogether abominable I have always been to her,' and here honest tears +choked Chriss's utterance. + +A warm thrill pervaded Olive's frame; here was another piece of work +left for her to do. She must gain influence over the cross-grained +warped little piece of human nature beside her; hitherto there had been +small sympathy between the sisters. Olive's dreamy susceptibilities and +Chriss's shrewdness had kept them apart. Chriss had always made it a +point of honour to contradict Olive in everything, and never until now +had she ever managed to insert the thinnest wedge between Chriss's +bristling self-esteem and general pugnacity. + +'Oh, Chriss,' she cried, almost tremblingly, in her eagerness to impart +some consolation, 'there is not one of us who cannot blame ourselves in +some way. I am sure I have not been as nice as I might have been to Aunt +Milly.' + +Chriss shook her shoulder pettishly. + +'Dear me, that is so like you, Olive; you are the most +funnily-constructed person I ever saw--all poetry and conscience. When +you are not dreaming with your eyes open you are always reading yourself +a homily.' + +'I wish I were nice for all your sakes,' replied Olive, meekly, not in +the least repudiating this personal attack. + +'Oh, as to that, you are nice enough,' retorted Chriss, briskly. 'You +won't come up to Aunt Milly, so it is no use trying, but all the same I +mean to stick to you. I don't intend you to be quite drowned dead in +your responsibilities. If you say a thing, however stupid it is, I shall +think it my duty to back you up, so I warn you to be careful.' + +'Dear Chriss, I am so much obliged to you,' replied Olive, with tears in +her eyes. + +She perfectly understood by this somewhat vague sentence that Chriss was +entering into a solemn league and covenant with her, an alliance +aggressive and defensive for all future occasions. + +'There is not another tolerably comfortable person in the house,' +grumbled Chriss; 'one might as well talk to a monk as to Richard; the +corners of his mouth are beginning to turn down already with +ultra-goodness, and now he has taken to the Noah's Ark style of dress +one has no comfort in contradicting him.' + +'Chrissy, how can you say such things? Cardie has never been so dear and +good in his life.' + +'And then there are Rex and Polly,' continued Chriss, ignoring this +interruption; 'the way they talk in corners and the foolish things they +say! I have made up my mind, Livy, never to be in love, not even if I +marry my professor. I will be kind to him and sew on his buttons once in +a way, and order him nice things for dinner; but if he sent me on +errands as Rex does Polly I would just march out of the room and never +see his face again. I am so glad that no one will think of marrying you, +Olive,' she finished, sleepily, disposing herself to rest; 'every family +ought to have an old maid, and a poetical one will be just the thing.' + +Olive smiled; she always took these sort of speeches as a matter of +course. It never entered her head that any other scheme of life were +possible with her. She was far too humble-minded and aware of her +shortcomings to imagine that she could find favour in any man's eyes. +She lay with a lightened heart long after Chriss had fallen into a sweet +sleep, thinking how she could do her best for the froward young creature +beside her. + +'I have begun work in earnest to-day,' she thought, 'first Cardie and +now Chriss. Oh, how hard I will try not to disappoint them!' + +Dr. Heriot had hoped to secure some five weeks of freedom from work, but +before the month had fully elapsed he had an urgent recall home. Richard +had telegraphed to him that they were all in great anxiety about Mr. +Trelawny. There had been a paralytic seizure, and his daughter was in +deep distress. They had sent for a physician from Kendal, but as the +case required watching, Dr. Heriot knew how urgently his presence would +be desired. + +He went in search of his wife immediately, and found her sitting in a +quiet nook in the Lowood Gardens overlooking Windermere. + +The book they had been reading together lay unheeded in her lap. +Mildred's eyes were fixed on the shining lake and the hills, with purple +shadows stealing over them. Her husband's step on the turf failed to +rouse her, so engrossing was her reverie, till his hand was laid on her +shoulder. + +'John, how you startled me!' + +'I have been looking for you everywhere, Milly, darling,' he returned, +sitting down beside her. 'I have been watching you for ever so long; I +wanted to know what other people thought of my wife, and so for once I +resolved to be a disinterested spectator.' + +'Hush, your wife does not like you to talk nonsense;' but all the same +Mildred blushed beautifully. + +'Unfortunately she has to endure it,' he replied, coolly. 'After all I +think people will be satisfied. You are a young-looking woman, Milly, +especially since you have left off wearing gray.' + +'As though I mind what people think,' she returned, smiling, well +pleased with his praise. + +Was it not sufficient for her that she was fair in his eyes? Dr. Heriot +had a fastidious taste with regard to ladies' dress. In common with many +men, he preferred rich dark materials with a certain depth and softness +of colouring, and already, with the nicest tact, she contrived to +satisfy him. Mildred was beginning to lose the old-fashioned staidness +and precision that had once marked her style; others besides her husband +thought the quiet, restful face had a certain beauty of its own. + +And he. There were some words written by the wise king of old which +often rose to his lips as he looked at her--'The heart of her husband +does safely trust in her; she will do him good and not evil all the days +of her life.' How had it ever come that he had won for himself this +blessing? There were times when he almost felt abashed before the purity +and goodness of this woman; the simplicity and truthfulness of her +words, the meekness with which she ever obeyed him. 'If I can only be +worthy of my Mildred's love, if I can be what she thinks me,' he often +said to himself. As he sat beside her now a feeling of regret crossed +him that this should be their last evening in this sweet place. + +'Shall you be very much disappointed, my wife' (his favourite name for +her), 'if we return home a few days earlier than we planned?' + +She looked up quickly. + +'Disappointed--to go home, and with you, John! But why? is there +anything the matter?' + +'Not at the vicarage, but Mr. Trelawny is very ill, and Richard has +telegraphed for me. What do you say, Mildred?' + +'That we must go at once. Poor Ethel. Of course she will want you, she +always had such faith in you. Dr. Strong is no favourite at +Kirkleatham.' + +'Yes, I think we ought to go,' he returned, slowly; 'you will be a +comfort to the poor girl, and of course I must be at my post. I am only +so sorry our pleasant trip must end.' + +'Yes, and it was doing you so much good,' she replied, looking fondly at +the dark face, now no longer thin and wan. 'I should have liked you to +have had another week's rest before you began work.' + +'Never mind,' he returned, cheerfully, 'we will not waste this lovely +evening with regrets. Where are your wraps, Mildred? I mean to fetch +them and row you on the lake; there will be a glorious moon this +evening.' + +The next night as Richard crossed the market-place on his way from +Kirkleatham he saw lights in the window of the low gray house beside the +Bank, and the next minute Dr. Heriot came out, swinging the gate behind +him. Richard sprang to meet him. + +'My telegram reached you then at Windermere? I am so thankful you have +come. Where is Aunt Milly?' + +'There,' motioning to the house; 'do you think I should leave my wife +behind me? Let me hear a little about things, Richard. Are you going my +way; to Kirkleatham, I mean?' + +'Yes, I will turn back with you. I have been up there most of the time. +He seems to like me, and no one else can lift him. It seemed hard +breaking into your holiday, Dr. Heriot, but what could I do? We are sure +he dislikes Dr. Strong, and then Ethel seemed so wretched.' + +'Poor girl; the sudden seizure must have terrified her.' + +'Oh, I must tell you about that; I promised her I would. You see he has +taken this affair of the election too much to heart; every one told him +he would fail, and he did not believe them. In his obstinacy he has +squandered large sums of money, and she believes this to be preying on +his mind.' + +'That and the disappointment.' + +'As to that his state was pitiable. He came back from Kendal looking as +ill as possible and full of bitterness against her. She has no want of +courage, but she owned she was almost terrified when she looked at him. +She does not say much, but one can tell what she has been through.' + +Dr. Heriot nodded. Too well he understood the state of the case. Mr. +Trelawny's paroxysms of temper had latterly become almost +uncontrollable. + +'He parted from her in anger, his last words being that she had ruined +her father, and then he went up to his dressing-room. Shortly after a +servant in an adjoining room heard a heavy fall, and alarmed the +household. They found him lying speechless and unable to move. Ethel +says when they had laid him on his bed and he had recovered +consciousness a little, his eyes followed her with a frightened, +questioning look that went to her heart, and which no soothing on her +part could remove. The whole of the right side is affected, and though +he has recovered speech, the articulation is very imperfect, impossible +to understand at present, which makes it very distressing.' + +'Poor Miss Trelawny, I fear she has sad work before her.' + +'She looks wretchedly ill over it; but what can one expect from such a +shock? She shows admirable self-command in the sickroom; she only breaks +down when she is away from him. I am so glad she will have Aunt Milly. +Now I must go back, as Marsden is away, and I have to copy some papers +for my father. I shall go back in a couple of hours to take the first +share of the night's nursing.' + +'You will find me there,' was Dr. Heriot's reply as they shook hands and +parted. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + +OLIVE'S DECISION + + 'Be good, sweet maid, and let who can be clever; + Do lovely things, not dream them, all day long; + And so make Life, Death, and that vast For Ever, + One grand sweet song.' + + Charles Kingsley. + + +Ethel Trelawny had long felt as though some crisis in her life were +impending. + +To her it seemed impossible that the unnatural state of things between +her father and herself could any longer continue; something must occur +to break the hideous monotony and constraint of those slowly revolving +weeks and months. Latterly there had come to her that strange listening +feeling to which some peculiar and sensitive temperaments are subject, +when in the silence they can distinctly hear the muffled footfall of +approaching sorrow. + +Yet what sorrow could be more terrible than this estrangement, this +death of a father's love, this chill cloud of distrust that had risen up +between them! + +And yet when the blow fell, filial instinct woke up in the girl's soul, +all the stronger for its repression. There were times during those first +forty-eight hours when she would gladly have laid down her own life if +she could have restored power to those fettered limbs, and peace to that +troubled brain. + +Oh, if she could only have blotted out those last cruel words--if they +would cease to ring in her ears! + +She had met him almost timidly, knowing how heavily the bitterness of +his failure would lie upon him. + +'Papa, I fear things have not gone well with you,' she had said, and +there had been a caressing, almost a pitying chord in her voice as she +spoke. + +'How should things go well with me when my own child opposes my +interest?' he had answered, gloomily. 'I have wasted time and substance, +I have fooled myself in the eyes of other men, and now I must hide my +head in this obscurity which has grown so hateful to me, and it is all +your fault, Ethel.' + +'Papa, listen to me,' she pleaded. 'Ambition is not everything; why have +you set your heart on this thing? It is embittering your life and mine. +Other men have been disappointed, and it has not gone so very hard with +them. Why will you not let yourself be comforted?' + +'There is no comfort for me,' he had replied, and his face had been very +old and haggard as he spoke. It were far better that she had not spoken; +her words, few and gentle as they were, only added to the fuel of his +discontent; he had meant to shut himself up in his sullenness, and make +no sign; but she had intercepted his retreat, and brought down the vials +on her devoted head. + +Could she ever forget the angry storm that followed? Surely he must have +been beside himself to have spoken such words! How was it that she had +been accused of jilting Mr. Cathcart, of refusing his renewed overtures, +merely from obstinacy, and the desire of opposition; that she should +hear herself branded as her father's worst enemy? + +'You and your pride have done for me!' he had said, lashing himself up +to fresh fury with the remembrance of past mortification. 'You have +taken from me all that would make life desirable. You have been a bad +daughter to me, Ethel. You have spoiled the work of a lifetime.' + +'Papa, papa, I have only acted rightly. How could I have done this evil +thing, even for your sake?' she had cried, but he had not listened to +her. + +'You have jilted the man you fancied out of pride, and now the mischief +will lie on your own head,' he had answered, angrily, and then he had +turned to leave the room. + +Half an hour afterwards the heavy thud of a fall had been heard, and the +man had come to her with a white face to summon her to her father's +bedside. + +She knew then what had come upon them. At the first sight of that +motionless figure, speechless, inert, struck down with unerring force, +in the very prime and strength of life, she knew how it would be with +them both. + +'Oh, my dear, my dear, forgive me,' she had cried, falling on her knees +beside the bed, and raining tears over the rigid hands; and yet what was +there to forgive? Was it not rather she who had been sinned against? +What words were those the paralysed tongue refused to speak? What was +the meaning of those awful questioning eyes that rested on her day and +night, when partial consciousness returned? Could it be that he would +have entreated her forgiveness? + +'Papa, papa, do not look so,' she would say in a voice that went to +Richard's heart. 'Don't you know me? I am Ethel, your own, only child. I +will love you and take care of you, papa. Do you hear me, dear? There is +nothing to forgive--nothing--nothing.' + +During the strain of those first terrible days Richard was everything to +her; without him she would literally have sunk under her misery. + +'Oh, Richard, have I killed my father? Am I his murderess?' she cried +once almost hysterically when they were left alone together. 'Oh, poor +papa--poor papa!' + +'Dear Ethel, you have done no wrong,' he replied, taking her unresisting +hand; 'it is no fault of yours, dearest; you have been the truest, the +most patient of daughters. He has brought it on himself.' + +'Ah, but it was through me that this happened,' she returned, shuddering +through every nerve. 'If I had married Mr. Cathcart, he would not have +lost his seat, and then he would not have fretted himself ill.' + +'Ought we to do evil that good may come, Ethel?' replied Richard, +gravely. 'Are children responsible for the wrongdoing of their parents? +If there be sin, it lies at your father's door, not yours; it is you to +forgive, not he.' + +'Richard, how can you be so hard?' she demanded, with a flash of her old +spirit through her sobs; but it died away miserably. + +'I am not hard to him--God forbid! Am I likely to be hard to your +father, Ethel, and now especially?' he said, somewhat reproachfully, but +speaking with the quiet decision that soothed her even then. 'I cannot +have you unfitting yourself for your duties by indulging these morbid +ideas; no one blames you--you have done right; another time you will be +ready to acknowledge it yourself; you have enough to suffer, without +adding to your burden. I entreat you to banish these fancies, once and +for ever. Ethel, promise me you will try to do so.' + +'Yes, yes, I know you are right,' she returned, weeping bitterly; 'only +it breaks my heart to see him like this.' + +'You are spent and weary,' he replied, gently; 'to-morrow you will look +at these things in a different light. It has been such an awful shock to +you, you see,' and then he brought her wine, and compelled her to drink +it, and with much persuasion induced her to seek an hour or two's repose +before returning to the sickroom. + +What would she have done without him, she thought, as she closed her +heavy eyes. Unconsciously they seemed to have resumed their old +relations towards each other; it was Richard and Ethel now. Richard's +caressing manner had returned; no brother could have watched over her +more devotedly, more reverently; and yet he had never loved her so well +as when, all her imperiousness gone, and with her brave spirit well-nigh +broken, she seemed all the more dependent on his sympathy and care. + +But the first smile that crossed her face was for Mildred, when Dr. +Heriot brought her up to Kirkleatham the first evening after their +arrival. Mildred almost cried over her when she took her in her arms; +the contrast to her own happiness was so great. + +'Oh, Ethel, Ethel,' was all she could say, 'my poor girl!' + +'Yes, I am that and much more,' she returned, yielding to her friend's +embrace; 'utterly poor and wretched. Has he--has Dr. Heriot told you all +he feared?' + +'That there can only be partial recovery? Yes, I know he fears that; but +then one cannot tell in these cases; you may have him still for years.' + +'Ah, but if he should have another stroke? I know what Dr. Heriot +thinks--it is a bad case; he has said so to Richard.' + +'Poor child! it is so hard not to be able to comfort you.' + +'No one can do that so long as I have him before my eyes in this state. +Mildred, you cannot conceive what a wreck he is; no power of speech, +only those inarticulate sounds.' + +'I am glad Cardie is able to be so much with you.' + +A sensitive colour overspread Ethel's worn face. + +'I do not know what I should have done without him,' she returned, in a +low voice. 'If he had been my own brother he could not have done more +for me; we fancy papa likes to have him, he is so strong and quiet, and +always sees what is the right thing to be done.' + +'I found out Cardie's value long ago; he was my right hand during +Olive's illness.' + +'He is every one's right hand, I think,' was the quiet answer. 'He was +the first to suggest telegraphing for Dr. Heriot. I could not bear +breaking in upon your holiday, but it could not be helped.' + +'Do you think we could have stayed away?' + +'All the same it is a sad welcome to your new home; but you are a +doctor's wife now. Mildred, if you knew what it was to me to see your +dear face near me again.' + +'I am so thankful John brought me.' + +'Ah, but he will take you away again. I can hear his step now.' + +'Poor girl! her work is cut out for her,' observed Dr. Heriot, +thoughtfully, as they walked homewards through the crofts. 'It will be a +sad, lingering case, and I fear that the brain is greatly affected from +what they tell me. He must have had a slight stroke many years ago.' + +'Poor, poor Ethel,' replied Mildred, sorrowfully. 'I must be with her as +much as possible; but Richard seems her greatest comfort.' + +'Perhaps good may come out of evil. You see, I can guess at your +thought, Milly darling,' and then their talk flowed into a less sad +channel. + +But not all Mildred's sympathy, or Richard's goodness, could avail to +make those long weeks and months of misery otherwise than dreary; and +nobly as Ethel Trelawny performed her duty, there were times when her +young heart sickened and grew heavy with pain in the oppressive +atmosphere of that weary sickroom. + +To her healthy vitality, the spectacle of her father's helplessness was +simply terrible; the inertness of the fettered limbs, the indistinct +utterance of the tied and faltering tongue, the confusion of the +benumbed brain, oppressed her like a nightmare. There were times when +her pity for him was so great, that she would have willingly laid down +all her chances of happiness in this life if she could have restored to +him the prospect of health. + +It was now that the real womanhood of Ethel Trelawny rose to the +surface. Richard's heart ached with its fulness of love when he saw her +day after day so meekly and patiently tending her afflicted father; the +worn, pale face and eyes heavy with trouble and want of sleep were far +more beautiful to him now; but he hid his feelings with his usual +self-control. She had learned to depend upon him and trust him, and this +state of things was too precious to be disturbed. + +Richard was his father's sole curate now. Towards the end of October, +Hugh Marsden had finished his preparations, and had bidden good-bye to +his friends at the vicarage. + +Mildred, who saw him last, was struck with the change in the young man's +manner; his cheerful serenity had vanished--he looked subdued, almost +agitated. + +She was sitting at work in the little glass room; a tame canary was +skimming among the flowers, Dr. Heriot's voice was heard cheerfully +whistling from an inner room, some late blooming roses lay beside +Mildred, her husband's morning gift, the book from which he had been +reading to her was still open on the table; the little domestic picture +smote the young man's heart with a dull pain. + +'I am come to say good-bye, Mrs. Heriot,' he said, in a sadder voice +than she had ever heard from him before; 'and it has come to this, that +I would sooner say any other word.' + +'We shall miss you dreadfully, Mr. Marsden,' replied Mildred, looking +regretfully up at the plain honest face. Hugh Marsden had always been a +favourite with her, and she was loath to say good-bye to him. + +'Others have been kind enough to tell me so,' he rejoined, twirling his +shabby felt hat between his fingers. 'Miss Olive, Miss Lambert I mean, +said so just now. Somehow, I had hoped--but no, she has decided +rightly.' + +Mildred looked up in surprise. Incoherence was new in Hugh Marsden; but +just now his clumsy eloquence seemed to have deserted him. + +'What has Olive decided?' she asked, with a sudden spasm of curiosity; +and then she added kindly, 'Sit down, Mr. Marsden, you do not seem quite +yourself; all this leave-taking has tired you.' + +But he shook his head. + +'I have no time: you must not tempt me, Mrs. Heriot; only you have +always been so good to me, that I wanted to ask you to say this for me.' + +'What am I to say?' asked Mildred, feeling a little bewildered. + +He was still standing before her, twirling his hat in his big hands, his +broad face flushed a little. + +'Tell Miss Olive that I know she has acted rightly; she always does, you +know. It would be something to have such a woman as that beside one, +strengthening one's hands; but of course it cannot be--she could not +deviate from her duty by a hair's-breadth.' + +'I do not know if I understand you,' began Mildred, slowly, and groping +her way to the truth. + +'I think you do. I think you have always understood me,' returned the +young man, more quickly. 'And you will tell her this from me. Of course +one must have regrets, but it cannot be helped; good-bye, Mrs. Heriot. A +thousand thanks for all you have done for me.' And before Mildred could +answer, he had wrung her hand, and was half-way through the hall. + +An hour later, Mildred stole softly down the vicarage lobby, and knocked +at the door of the room she had once occupied, and Olive's voice bade +her enter. + +'Aunt Milly, I never thought it was you,' she exclaimed, rising hastily +from the low chair by the window. 'Is Dr. Heriot with you?' + +'No; I left John at home. I told him that I wanted to have a little talk +with you, and like a model husband he asked no questions, and raised no +obstacles. All the same I expect he will follow me.' + +'You wanted to talk to me?' returned Olive, in a questioning tone, but +her sallow face flushed a little. 'How strange, when I was just wishing +for you too.' + +'There must be some electric sympathy between us,' replied her aunt, +smiling. 'Nothing could have induced me to sleep until I had seen you. +Mr. Marsden wished me to give you a message from him; he was a little +incoherent, but so far as I understand, he wished me to assure you that +he considers yours a right decision.' + +Olive's face brightened a little. Mildred had already detected unusual +sadness on it, but her calmness was baffling. + +'Did he tell you to say that? How kind of him!' + +'He did not stop to explain himself; he was in too great a hurry; but I +thought he seemed troubled. What was the decision, Olive? Has this +helped you to make it?' touching reverently the open page of a Bible +that lay beside her. + +The brown light in Olive's eyes grew steady and intense; she looked like +one who had found rest in a certainty. + +'I have just been preaching to myself from that text: "He that putteth +his hand to the plough and looketh backward," you know, Aunt Milly. +Well, that seems to point as truly to me as it does to Mr. Marsden.' + +'Yes, dearest,' replied Mildred, softly; 'and now what has he said to +you?' + +'I hardly know myself,' was the low-toned answer. 'I have been thinking +it all over, and I cannot now understand how it was; it seems so +wonderful that any one could care enough for me,' speaking to herself, +with a soft, bewildered smile. + +'Does Mr. Marsden care for you. I thought so from the first, Olive.' + +'I suppose he does, or else he would not have said what he did; it was +difficult to know his meaning at first, he was so embarrassed, and I was +so slow; but we understood each other at last.' + +'Tell me all he said, dear,' pleaded Mildred. Could it be her own love +story that Olive was treating so simply? There was a chord of sadness in +her voice, and a film gathered over the brightness of her eyes, but +there was no agitation in her manner; the deep of her soul might be +touched, but the surface was calm. + +'There is not much to tell, Aunt Milly, but of course you may know all. +We had said good-bye, and I had spoken a word or two about his work, and +how I thought it the most beautiful work that a man could do, and then +he asked me if I should ever be willing to share in it.' + +'Well?' + +'I did not understand him at first, as I told you, until he made his +meaning more plain, and then I saw how it was, that he hoped that one +day I might give myself heart and soul to the same work; that my talent, +beautiful, as he owned it to be, might not hinder me from such a +glorious reality--"the reality,"' and here for the first time she +faltered and grew crimson, '"of such work as must fall to a missionary's +wife."' + +'Olive, my dear child,' exclaimed Mildred, now really startled, 'did he +say as much as that?' + +'Yes, indeed, Aunt Milly; and he asked if I could care enough for him to +make such a sacrifice.' + +'My dear, how very sudden.' + +'It did not seem so. I cannot make out why I was not more surprised. It +came to me as though I had expected it all along. Of course I told him +that I liked him better than any one else I had seen, but that I never +thought that any one could care for me in that way; and then I told him +that while my father lived nothing would induce me to leave him.' + +'And what did he say to that?' + +'That he was afraid this would be my answer, but that he knew I was +deciding rightly, that he had never meant to say so much, only that the +last minute he could not help it; and then he begged that we might +remain friends, and asked me not to forget him and his work in my +prayers, and then he went away.' + +'And for once in your life you decided without Aunt Milly.' + +The girl looked up quickly. 'Was it wrong? You could not have counselled +me to give a different answer, and even if you had--' hesitating, 'Oh, I +could not have said otherwise; there was no conflicting duty there, Aunt +Milly.' + +'Dearest, from my heart I believe you are right. Your father could ill +spare you.' + +'I am thankful to hear you say so. Of course,' heaving a little sigh, +'it was very hard seeing him go away like that, but I never doubted +which was my duty for a moment. As long as papa and Cardie want me, +nothing could induce me to leave them.' + +'I suppose you will tell them this, Olive?' + +'No, oh no,' she replied, shrinking back, 'that would spoil all. It +would be to lose the fruit of the sacrifice; it might grieve them too. +No, no one must know this but you and I, Aunt Milly; it must be sacred +to us three. I told Mr. Marsden so.' + +'Perhaps you are right,' returned her aunt, thoughtfully. 'Richard +thinks so highly of him, he might give you no peace on the subject. When +we have once made up our minds to a certain course of action, arguments +are as wearying as they are fruitless, and overmuch pity is good for no +one. But, dear Olive, I cannot refrain from telling you how much I +honour you for this decision.' + +'Honour me, Aunt Milly!' and Olive's pale face flushed with strong +emotion. + +'How can I help it? There are so few who really act up to their +principles in this world, who when the moment for self-sacrifice comes +are able cheerfully to count the cost and renounce the desire of their +heart. Ah!' she continued, 'when I think of your yearning after a +missionary life, and that you are giving up a woman's brightest prospect +for the sake of an ailing parent, I feel that you have done a very noble +thing indeed.' + +'Hush, I do not deserve all this praise. I am only doing my duty.' + +'True; and after all we are only unprofitable servants. I wish I had +your humility, Olive. I feel as though I should be too happy sometimes +if it were not for the sorrows of others. They are shadows on the +sunshine. Ethel is always in my thoughts, and now you will be there +too.' + +'I do not think--I do not mean to be unhappy,' faltered Olive. '"God +loveth a cheerful giver," I must remember that, Aunt Milly. Perhaps,' +she continued, more humbly, 'I am not fit for the work. Perhaps he might +be disappointed in me, and I should only drag him down. Don't you +recollect what papa once said in one of his sermons about obstacles +standing like the angel with the drawn sword before Balaam, to turn us +from the way?' + +Mildred sighed. How often she had envied the childish faith which lay at +the bottom of Olive's character, though hidden by the troublesome +scrupulousness of a too sensitive conscience. Was the healthy growth she +had noticed latterly owing to Mr. Marsden's influence, or had she +really, by God's grace, trodden on the necks of her enemies? + +'You must not be sorry about all this,' continued the girl, earnestly, +noticing the sigh. 'You don't know how glad I am that Mr. Marsden cares +for me.' + +'I cannot help feeling that some day it will all come right,' returned +Mildred. + +'I must not think about that,' was the hurried answer. 'Aunt Milly, +please never to say or hint such a thing again. It would be wrong; it +would make me restless and dissatisfied. I shall always think of him as +a dear friend--but--but I mean to be Olive Lambert all my life.' + +Mildred smiled and kissed her, and then consented very reluctantly to +change the subject, but nevertheless she held to her opinion as firmly +as Olive to hers. + +Mildred might well say that the sorrows of others shadowed her +brightness. During the autumn and winter that followed her marriage her +affectionate heart was often oppressed by thoughts of that dreary +sickroom. Her husband had predicted from the first that only partial +recovery could be expected in Mr. Trelawny's case. A few months or years +of helplessness was all that remained to the once lithe and active frame +of the master of Kirkleatham. + +It was a pitiable wreck that met Richard's eyes one fine June evening in +the following year, when he went up to pay his almost daily visit. They +had wheeled the invalid on to the sunny terrace that he might enjoy the +beautiful view. Below them lay the old gray buildings and church of +Kirkby Stephen. The pigeons were sitting in rows on the tower, +preparatory to roosting in one of the unoccupied rooms; through the open +door one had glimpses of the dark-painted window, with its fern-bordered +ledge, and the gleaming javelins on the wall. A book lay on Ethel's lap, +but she had long since left off turning the pages. The tale, simple as +it was, was wearying to the invalid's oppressed brain. Her wan face +brightened at the young curate's approach. + +'How is he?' asked Richard in a low voice as he approached her, and +dropping his voice. + +Ethel shook her head. 'He is very weary and wandering to-night; worse +than usual, I fancy. Papa, Richard has come to see us; he is waiting to +shake hands with you.' + +'Richard--ay, a good lad--a good lad,' returned the sick man, +listlessly. His voice was still painfully thick and indistinct, and his +eyes had a dull look of vacancy. 'You must excuse my left hand, +Richard,' with an attempt at his old courtliness; 'the other is numb or +gone to sleep; it is of no use to me at all. Ah, I always told Lambert +he ought to be proud of his sons.' + +'His thoughts are running on the boys to-night,' observed Ethel, in a +low voice. 'He keeps asking after Rupert, and just now he fancied I was +my poor mother.' + +Richard gave her a grave pitying look, and turned to the invalid. 'I am +glad to see you out this lovely evening,' he said, trying gently to +rouse his attention, for the thin, dark face had a painful abstracted +look. + +'Ah, it is beautiful enough,' replied Mr. Trelawny, absently. 'I am +waiting for the boys; have you seen them, Richard? Agatha sent them down +to the river to bathe; she spoils them dreadfully. Rupert is a fine +swimmer; he does everything well; he is his mother's favourite.' + +'I think Ethel is looking pale, Mr. Trelawny. Aunt Milly has sent me to +fetch her for an hour, if you can spare her?' + +'I can always spare Ethel; she is not much use to me. Girls are +generally in the way; they are poor things compared with boys. Where is +the child, Agatha? Tell her to make haste; we must not keep Richard +waiting.' + +'Dear papa,' pleaded the girl, 'you are dreaming to-night. Your poor +Ethel is beside you.' + +'Ah, to be sure,' passing his hand wearily through his whitening hair. +'I get confused; you are so like your mother. Ask this gentleman to +wheel me in, Ethel; I am getting tired.' + +'Is he often like this?' asked Richard, when at last she was free to +join him in the porch. The curfew bell was ringing as they walked +through the dewy crofts among the tall, sleeping daisies; the cool +breeze fanned Ethel's hot temples. + +'Yes, very often,' she returned, in a dejected tone. 'It is this that +tries me so. If he would only talk to me a little as he used to do +before things went wrong; but he only seems to live in the past--his +wife and his boys--but it is chiefly Rupert now.' + +'And yet he seems restless without you.' + +'That is the strangest part; he seems to know me through it all. There +are times when he is a little clearer; when he seems to think there is +something between us; and then nothing satisfies him, unless I sit +beside him and hold his hand. It is so hard to hear him begging my +forgiveness over and over again for some imaginary wrong he fancies he +has done me.' + +'Poor Ethel! Yet he was never dearer to you than he is now?' + +'Never,' she returned, drying her eyes. 'Night and day he engrosses my +thoughts. I seem to have no room for anything else. Do you know, +Richard, I can understand now the passionate pity mothers feel for a +sick child, for whom they sacrifice rest and comfort. There is nothing I +would not do for papa.' + +'Aunt Milly says your devotion to him is beautiful.' + +Ethel's face grew paler. 'You must not tell me that, Richard; you do not +consider that I have to retrieve the coldness of a lifetime. After all, +poor papa is right. I have not been a good daughter to him; I have been +carping and disagreeable; I have presumed to sit in judgment on my own +father; I have separated myself and my pursuits from his, and alienation +was the result.' + +'For which you were not wholly to blame,' he replied, gently, unable to +hear those self-accusations unmoved. Why was she, the dearest and the +truest, to go heavily all her days for sins that were not her own? + +'No, you must not blame him,' she continued, beseechingly. 'Is he not +bearing his own punishment? am I not bearing mine? Oh, it is dreadful!' +her voice suddenly choked with strong emotion. 'Bodily sufferings I +could have witnessed with far less misery than I feel at the spectacle +of this helplessness and mental decay; to talk to dull ears, to arrest +wandering thoughts, to listen hour after hour to confused rambling, +Richard, this seems harder than anything.' + +'If He--the Master I mean--fell under His cross, do we wonder that we at +times sink under ours?' was the low, reverent answer. 'Ethel, I +sometimes think how wonderful it will be to turn the page of suffering +in another world, and, with eyes purified from earthly rheum, to spell +out all the sacred meaning of the long trial that we considered so +unbearable--nay, sometimes so unjust.' + +Ethel did not trust herself to speak, but a grateful glance answered +him. It was not the first time he had comforted her with words which had +sunk deep into a subdued and softened heart. She was learning her lesson +now, and the task was a hard one to poor passionate human flesh and +blood. If what Richard said was true, she would not have a pang too +many; the sorrowful moments would be numbered to her by the same Father, +without whom not even a sparrow could fall to the ground. Could she not +safely trust her father to Him? + +'Richard, I am always praying to come down from my cross,' she said at +last, looking up at the young clergyman with sweet humid eyes. 'And +after all He has fastened us there with His own hands. I suppose it is +faith and patience for which one should ask, and not only relief?' + +'He will give that too in His own good time,' returned Richard, +solemnly, and then, as was often the case, a short silence fell between +them. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + +BERENGARIA + + 'I have led her home, my love, my only friend, + There is none like her, none. + And never yet so warmly ran my blood + And sweetly, on and on + Calming itself to the long-wished-for end, + Full to the banks, close on the promised good. + + * * * * * + + None like her, none.'--Tennyson's _Maud_. + + +Two years had elapsed since Olive Lambert had made her noble decision, +and during that time triple events had happened. Mr. Trelawny's +suffering life was over, Rex had married his faithful Polly, and Dr. +Heriot and Mildred had rejoiced over their first-born son. + +Mr. Trelawny did not long survive the evening when Richard found him on +the sunny terrace; towards the end of the autumn there was a brief +rally, a strange flicker of restless life; his confused faculties seemed +striving to clear themselves; at times there was a strained dilated look +in the dark eyes that was almost pitiful; he seemed unwilling to have +Ethel out of his sight--even for a moment. + +One night he called her to him. She was standing at the window finishing +some embroidery by the fading light, but at the first sound of the weak, +querulous tones, she turned her cheerful face towards him, for however +weary she felt, there was always a smile for him. + +'What is it, dear father?' for in those sad last days the holy name of +father had come involuntarily to her lips. True, she had tasted little +of his fatherhood, but still he was hers--her father. + +'Put down that tiresome work and come to me,' he went on, fretfully; +'you are always at work--always--as though you had your bread to earn; +there is plenty to spare for you. Rupert will take care of you; you need +not fear, Ethel.' + +'No, dear, I am not afraid,' she returned coming to his side, and +parting his hair with her soft fingers. + +How often she had kissed those gray streaks, and the poor wrinkled +forehead. He was an old man now, bowed and decrepit, sitting there with +his lifeless arm folded to his side. But how she loved him--her poor, +stricken father! + +'No, you were always a good girl. Ethel, are the boys asleep?' + +'Yes, both of them, father,' leaning her cheek against his. + +'And your mother?' + +'Yes, dear.' + +'I had a fancy I should like to hear Rupert's voice again. You remember +his laugh, Ethel, so clear and ringing? Hal's was not like it; he was +quiet and tame compared to Rupert. Ethel,' wistfully, 'it is a long time +since I saw my boys.' + +'My poor dear, a long, long time!' and then she whispered, almost +involuntarily, '"I shall go to them, but they shall not return to me."' + +He caught the meaning partially. + +'Yes, we will go to them--you and I,' he returned, vacantly, patting her +cheek as she hung over him. 'Don't cry, Ethel, they are good boys, and +shall have their rights; but I have not forgotten you. You have been a +good daughter to me--better than I deserved. I shall tell your mother so +when----' + +But the sentence was never finished. + +He had seemed drowsy after that, and she rang for the servant to wheel +him into his own room. He was still heavy when she drew the curtains +round him and wished him good-night; he looked placid and beautiful, she +thought, as she leant over him for a last kiss; but he only smiled at +her, and pressed her hand feebly. + +That smile, how she treasured it! It was still on his lips when the +servant who slept in his room, surprised at his master's long rest, +undrew the curtains and found him lying as they left him last +night--dead!' + +'You have been a good daughter to me--better than I deserved. I shall +tell your mother so when----' + +'Oh, Ethel, he has told her now! be comforted, darling,' cried Mildred, +when Ethel had thrown herself dry-eyed on her friend's bosom. 'God do so +to me and mine, as you have dealt with him in his trouble.' + +But for a long time the afflicted girl refused to be comforted. + +Richard was smitten with dismay when he saw her for the first time after +her father's death. Her paleness, her assumed calmness, filled him with +foreboding trouble. Mildred had told him she had scarcely slept or eaten +since the shock of her bereavement had come upon her. + +She had come to him at once, and stood before him in her black dress; +the touch of her hand was so cold, that he had started at its +clamminess; the uncomplaining sadness of her aspect brought the mist to +his eyes. + +'Dear Ethel, it has been sudden--awfully sudden,' he said, at last, +almost fearing to graze the edge of that dreary pause. + +'Ah! that it has.' + +'That afternoon we had both been sitting with him. Do you remember he +had complained of weariness, and yet he would not suffer us to wheel him +in? Who would have thought his weariness would have been so soon at an +end!' + +She made no answer, only her bosom heaved a little. Yes, his weariness +was over, but hers had begun; her filial work was taken from her, and +her heart was sick with the sudden void in life. For months he had been +her first waking and her last sleeping thoughts; his helplessness had +brought out the latent devotion of her nature, and now she was alone! + +'Will you let me see him?' whispered Richard, not daring to break on +this sacred reserve of grief, and yet longing to speak some word of +comfort to her stricken heart; and she had turned noiselessly and led +him to the chamber of death. + +There her fortitude had given way a little, and Richard was relieved to +see her quiet tears coursing slowly down her cheeks, as they stood side +by side looking on the still face with its changeless smile. + +'Ethel, I am glad you have allowed me to see him,' he said, at last; 'he +looks so calm and peaceful, all marks of age and suffering gone. Who +could have the heart to break that rest?' + +Then the pent-up pain found utterance. + +'Oh, Richard, think, never to have bidden him good-bye!' + +'Did you wish him good-night, dear? I thought you told me you always +went to his bedside the last thing before you slept?' + +'Yes--but I did not know,' the tears flowing still more freely. + +'No--you only wished him good-night, and bade God bless him. Well, has +He not blessed him?' + +A sob was her only reply. + +'Has He not given him the "blessing of peace"? Is not His very seal of +peace there stamped on that quiet brow? Dear Ethel, those words, "He is +not, for God took him," always seem to me to apply so wonderfully to +sudden death. You know,' dropping his voice, and coming more closely, +'some men, good men, even, have such a horror of death.' + +'He had,' in a tone almost inaudible. + +'So I always understood. Think of the mercy shown to his weakness then, +literally falling asleep; no slow approach of the enemy he feared; no +deadly combat with the struggling flesh; only sleep, untroubled as a +child; a waking, not here, but in another world.' + +Ethel still wept, but she felt less oppressed; no one could comfort her +like Richard, not even Mildred. + +As the days went on, Richard felt almost embarrassed by the trust she +reposed in him. Ethel, who had always been singularly unconventional in +her ideas, and was still in worldly matters as simple as a child, could +see no reason why Richard should not manage things wholly for her. +Richard in his perplexity was obliged to appeal to Dr. Heriot. + +'She is ill, and shrinks from business; she wants me to see the lawyer. +Surely you can explain to her how impossible it is for me to interfere +with such matters? She treats the man who aspires to be her husband +exactly like her brother,' continued the young man, in a vexed, +shamefaced way. + +Dr. Heriot could hardly forbear a smile. + +The master of Kirkleatham had been lying in his grave for weeks, but his +faithful daughter still refused to be comforted. She moped piteously; +all business fretted her; a quiet talk with Mildred or Richard was all +of which her harassed nerves seemed capable. + +'What can you expect?' he said, at last; 'her long nursing has broken +her down. She has a fine constitution, but the wear and tear of these +months have been enough to wear out any woman. Leave her quiet for a +little while to cry her heart out for her father.' + +'In the meantime, Mr. Grantham is waiting to have those papers signed, +and to know if those leases are to be renewed,' returned Richard, +impatiently. + +With her his gentleness and sympathy had been unfailing, but it was not +to be denied that his present position fretted him. To be treated as a +brother, and to be no brother; to be the rejected suitor of an heiress, +and yet to be told he was her right hand! No wonder Richard's heart was +sore; he was even aggrieved with Dr. Heriot for not perceiving more +quickly the difficulties of his situation. + +'If my father were in better health, she would go to him; she has said +so more than once,' he went on, more quietly. 'It is easy to see that +she does not understand my hints; and under the present circumstances it +is impossible to speak more plainly. She wanted me to see Mr. Grantham, +and when I refused she looked almost hurt.' + +'Yes, I see, she must be roused to do things herself. Don't be vexed +about it, Richard, it will all come right, and you cannot expect her to +see things as we do. I will have a little talk with her myself; if it +comes to the worst I must constitute myself her man of business for the +present,' and Richard withdrew more satisfied. + +Things were at a low ebb just now with Richard. Ethel's heiress-ship lay +on him like a positive burden. The riches he despised rose up like a +golden wall between him and his love. Oh, that she had been some poor +orphaned girl, that in her loneliness he might have taken her to his +heart and his father's home! What did either he or she want with these +riches? He knew her well enough to be sure how she would dread the added +responsibility they would bring. How often she had said to him during +the last few weeks, 'Oh, Richard, it is too much! it oppresses me +terribly. What am I to do with it all, and with myself!' and he had not +answered her a word. + +Dr. Heriot found his task easier than he had expected. Ethel was unhappy +enough to be slightly unreasonable. She felt herself aggrieved with +Richard, and had misunderstood him. + +'I suppose he has sent you to tell me that I must rouse myself,' she +said, with languid displeasure, when he had unfolded his errand. 'He +need not have troubled either himself or you. I have seen Mr. Grantham; +he went away by the 2.50 train.' + +'I must say that I think you have done wisely,' returned Dr. Heriot, +much pleased. 'No one, not even Richard, has a right to interfere in +these matters. The will is left so that your trustees will expect you to +exert yourself. It seems a pity that you cannot refer to them!' + +'You know Mr. Molloy is dead.' + +'Yes, and Sir William still in Canada. Yet, with an honest, +straightforward man like Grantham, I think you might settle things +without reference to any one. Richard is only sorry his father is so +ailing.' + +'No, I could not trouble Mr. Lambert.' + +'Richard has been so much about the house during your father's illness, +that it seems natural to refer to him. Well, he has an older head than +many of us; but all the same you must understand his scruples.' + +'They have seemed to me far-fetched.' + +But, nevertheless, Ethel blushed a little as she spoke. A dim sense of +Dr. Heriot's meaning had been dawning on her slowly, but she was +unwilling to confess it. She changed the subject somewhat hastily, by +asking after Mildred and the baby, and loading Dr. Heriot with loving +messages. Nothing more was said about Richard until the close of the +visit, when Dr. Heriot somewhat incautiously mentioned him again; but, +as he told Mildred afterwards, he spoke advisedly. + +'You will not let Richard think he is misunderstood?' he said, as he +rose to take leave. 'You know he is the last one to spare himself +trouble, but he feels in your position that he must do nothing to +compromise you.' + +'He will not have the opportunity,' she returned, with brief +haughtiness, and turning suddenly very crimson; but as she met Dr. +Heriot's look of mild reproach, she melted. + +'No--he is right, you are all of you quite right. I must exert myself, +and try and care for the things that belonged to my darling father, only +I shall be so lonely--so very lonely,' and she covered her face with her +hands. + +Ethel met Richard with more than her usual kindness when she saw him +next; her sweet deprecating glance gave the young man a sorrowful pang. + +'You need not have sent him to see me, Richard,' she said, a little +sadly. 'I have been thoughtless, and hurt you. I--I will trouble no one +but myself now.' + +'It was not the trouble, Ethel; you must know that,' he returned, +eagerly. 'I wish I had the right to help you, but----' + +His voice broke, and he dropped her hands. Perhaps he felt the time had +not come to speak; perhaps an involuntary chill seized him as he thought +of the little he had to offer her. His manner was very grave, almost +reserved, during the rest of the visit; both of them were glad when a +chance caller enabled Richard, without awkwardness, to take his leave. + +After this, the young curate's visits grew rarer, and at last almost +entirely ceased, and they only met at intervals at the vicarage or the +Gray House, as Dr. Heriot's house was commonly called. Ethel made no +complaint when she found she had lost her friend, only Mildred noticed +that she grew paler, and drooped visibly. + +Mildred's tender heart bled for the lonely girl. Both she and her +husband pleaded urgently that Ethel should leave her solitary home, and +come to them for a little. But Ethel remained firm in her refusal. + +'Your life is so perfect--so beautiful, Mildred,' she said, once, when +the latter had pressed her almost with tears in her eyes, 'that I could +not break in upon it with my sad face and moping ways. I should be more +wretched than I am now.' + +'But at least you might have some lady with you; such perfect loneliness +is good for no one. I cannot bear to think of you living in a corner of +that great house all by yourself,' returned Mildred, almost vexed with +her obstinacy; and, indeed, the girl was very difficult to understand in +those days. + +'I have no friends but all of you dear people,' she answered, in the +saddest voice possible, 'and I will not trouble you. I could not +tolerate a stranger for a moment. Mildred, you must not be hurt with me; +you do not know. I must have my way in this.' + +And though Mildred shook her wise head, and Dr. Heriot entered more than +one laughing protest against such determined self-will, they were +obliged to yield. + +It was a strange life for so young a woman, and would have tried the +strongest nerves; but the only wisdom that Ethel Trelawny showed was in +not allowing herself an idle moment. The old dreaming habits were broken +for ever, the fastidious choice of duties altogether forgotten; her days +were chiefly devoted to her steward and tenants. + +Richard, returning from his parochial visits to some outlying village, +often met her, mounted on her beautiful brown mare, Zoe. Sometimes she +would stop and give him her slim hand, and let him pet the mare and talk +to her leaning on Zoe's glossy neck; but oftener a wave of the hand and +a passing smile were her only greeting. Richard would come in stern and +weary from these encounters, but he never spoke of them. + +It was in the following spring that Boy and Polly were married. + +Roy had been successful and had sold another picture, and as Mr. Lambert +was disposed to be liberal to his younger son, there was no fear of +opposition from Polly's guardian, even if he could have resisted the +pleadings of the young people. + +But, after all, there was no actual imprudence. If Roy failed to find a +continuous market for his pictures, there was still no risk of positive +starvation. Mr. Lambert had been quite willing to listen to Richard's +representations, and to settle a moderate sum on Roy; for the present, +at least, they would have enough and to spare, and the responsibility of +a young wife would add a spur to Roy's genius. + +Richard was not behind in his generosity. Already his frugality had +amassed a few hundreds, half of which he placed in Roy's hands. Roy +spent a whole day in Wardour Street after that. A wagon, laden with old +carved furniture and wonderful _bric-a-brac_, drew up before The +Hollies. New crimson velvet curtains and a handsome carpet found their +way to the old studio. Polly hardly recognised it when she first set +foot in the gorgeous apartment, and heaved a private sigh over the dear +old shabby furniture. A little carved work-table and a davenport of +Indian wood stood in a corner appropriated to her use; a sleep-wooing +couch and a softly-cushioned easy-chair were beside them. Polly cried a +little with joy when the young husband pointed out the various +contrivances for her comfort. All the pretty dresses Dr. Heriot had +given her, and even Aunt Milly's thoughtful present of house-linen, +which now lay in the new press, with a sweet smell of lavender breathing +through every fold, were as nothing compared to Roy's gifts. After all, +it was an ideal wedding; there was youth, health, and good looks, with +plenty of honest love and good humour. + +'I have perfect faith in Polly's good sense,' Dr. Heriot had said to his +wife, when the young people bad driven away; 'she has just the qualities +Rex wants. I should not wonder if they turn out the happiest couple in +the world, with the exception of ourselves, Milly, darling.' + +The wedding had taken place in June, and the time had now come round for +the rush-bearing. The garden of Kirkleatham, the vicarage, and the Gray +House had been visited by the young band of depredators. Dr. Heriot's +glass-house had been rifled of its choicest blossoms; Mildred's bonnie +boy, still in his nurse's arms, crowed and clapped his hands at the +great white Annunciation lily that his mother had chosen for him to +carry. + +'You will not be late, John?' pleaded Mildred, as she followed him to +the door, according to her invariable custom, on the morning of St. +Peter's day; his wife's face was the last he saw when he quitted his +home for his long day's work. At the well-known click of the gate she +would lay down her work, at whatever hour it was, and come smiling to +meet him. + +'Where are you, Milly, darling?' were always his first words, if she +lingered a moment on her way. + +'You will not be later than you can help?' she continued, brushing off a +spot of dust on his sleeve. 'You must see Arnold carry his lily, and +Ethel will be there; and--and--' blushing and laughing, 'you know I +never can enjoy anything unless you are with me.' + +'Fie, Milly, darling, we ought to be more sensible after two years. We +are old married folks now, but if it were not for making my wife +vain,'--looking at the sweet, serene face so near his own,--'I might say +the same. There, I must not linger if I am under orders. Good-bye, my +two treasures,' placing the great blue-eyed fellow in Mildred's arms. + +When Mildred arrived at the park, under Richard's guardianship,--he had +undertaken to drive her and the child,--they found Ethel at the old +trysting-place amongst a host of other ladies, looking sad and weary. + +She moved towards them, tall and shadowy, in her black dress. + +'I am glad you are here,' said Richard, in a low voice. 'I thought the +Delawares would persuade you, and you will be quiet enough at the +vicarage.' + +'I thought I ought to do honour to my godson's first appearance in +public,' returned Ethel, stretching out her arms to the smiling boy. + +Mildred and Dr. Heriot had begged Olive to fill the position of sponsor +to the younger Arnold; but Olive had refused almost with tears. + +'I am not good enough. Do not ask me,' she had pleaded; and Mildred, +knowing the girl's sad humours, had transferred the request to Ethel; +her brother and Richard had stood with her. + +Richard had no time to say more, for already the band had struck up that +heralded the approach of the little rush-bearers, and he must take his +place at the head of the procession with the other clergy. + +She saw him again in church; he came down the chancel to receive the +children's gay crowns. Ethel saw a broken lily lying amongst them on the +altar afterwards. It struck her that his face looked somewhat sterner +and paler than usual. + +She was one of the invited guests at the vicarage; the Lamberts were +this year up at the Hall; but later on in the afternoon they met in the +Hall gardens: he came up at once and accosted her. + +'All this is jarring on you terribly,' he said, with his old +thoughtfulness, as he noticed her tired face. + +'I should be glad to go home certainly, but I do not like to appear rude +to the Delawares; the music is so noisy, and all those flitting dancers +between the trees confuse one's head.' + +'Suppose we walk a little way from them,' he returned, quietly. No one +but a keen observer could have read a determined purpose under that +quietness of his; Ethel's worn face, her changed manners, were driving +him desperate; the time had come that he would take his fate between his +hands, like a man; so he told himself, as they walked side by side. + +They had sauntered into the tree-bordered walk, leading to the old +summer-house in the meadows. As they reached it, Ethel turned to him +with a new sort of timidity in her face and voice. + +'I am not tired, Richard--not very tired, I mean. I would rather go back +to the others.' + +'We will go back presently. Ethel, I want to speak to you--I must speak +to you; this sort of thing cannot go on any longer.' + +'What do you mean?' she asked, turning very pale, but not looking at +him. + +'That we cannot go on any longer avoiding each other like this. You have +avoided me very often lately--have you not, Ethel?' speaking very +gently. + +'I do not know; you are so changed--you are not like yourself, Richard,' +she faltered. + +'How can I be like myself?' he answered, with a sudden passion in his +voice that made her tremble; 'how am I to forget that I am a poor +curate, and you your father's heiress; that I have fifties where you +have thousands? Oh, Ethel, if you were only poor,' his tone sinking into +pathos. + +'What have riches or poverty to do with it?' she asked, still averting +her face from him. + +'Do you not see? Can you not understand?' he returned, eagerly. 'If you +were poor, would it not make my wooing easier? I have loved you how +long, Ethel? Is it ten or eleven years? I was a boy of fourteen when I +loved you first, and I have never swerved from my allegiance.' + +'Never!' in a low voice. + +'Never! When you called me Coeur-de-Lion, I swore then, lad as I was, +that I would one day win my Berengaria. You have been the dearest thing +in life to me, ever since I first saw you; and now that I should lose my +courage over these pitiful riches! Oh, Ethel, it is hard--hard, just +when a little hope was dawning on me that one day you might be able to +return my affection. Was I wrong in that belief?' trying to obtain a +glimpse of the face now shielded by her hands. + +'Whatever I may feel, I know we are equals,' she returned evasively. + +'In one sense we are not,' he answered, sadly; 'a woman ought not to +come laden with riches to overwhelm her husband. I am a clergyman--a +gentleman, and therefore I fear to ask you to be my wife.' + +'Was Berengaria poor?' in a voice nearly inaudible; but he heard it, and +his handsome face flushed with sudden emotion. + +'Do you mean you are willing to be my Berengaria? Oh, Ethel, my own +love, this is too much. Can you really care for me enough?' + +'I have cared for you ever since you were so good to me in my trouble,' +she said, turning her glowing countenance, that he might read the truth +of her words; 'but you have made me very unhappy lately, Richard.' + +'What could I do?' he answered, almost incoherent with joy. 'I thought +you were treating me like a brother, and I feared to break in upon your +grief. Oh, if you knew what I have suffered.' + +'I understood, and that only made me love you all the more,' she +replied, softly. 'You have been winning my heart slowly ever since that +evening--you remember it?--in the kitchen garden.' + +'When you almost broke my heart, was I likely to forget it, do you +think?' + +'You startled me. I had only a little love, but it has been growing ever +since. Richard!' with her old archness, 'you will not refuse to see the +lawyers now?' + +He coloured slightly, and his bright look clouded; but this time Ethel +did not misunderstand him. + +'Dear Richard, you cannot hate the riches more than I do, but they must +never be mentioned again between us; they must be sacred to us as my +father's gift. I know you will help me to do what is right and good with +them,' she continued, in her winning way; 'they are talents we must use, +and not abuse.' + +'You have rebuked me, my dearest,' returned Richard, tenderly; 'it is I +who have been faithless and a coward. I will accept the charge you have +given me; and thank God at the same time for your noble heart.' + +So the long-desired gift had come into Richard Lambert's keeping, and +the woman he had loved from boyhood had consented to be his wife. + +The young master of Kirkleatham ruled well and wisely, and Ethel proved +a noble helpmeet. When some years later his father died, and he became +vicar of Kirkby Stephen, the parish had reason to bless the strong heart +and head, and the munificent hands that were never weary of giving. And +'our vicar' rivalled even the good doctor's popularity. + +And what of Olive and Hugh Marsden? + +Mildred's words had come true. + +There were long lonely years before Hugh Marsden--years of incessant +toil and Herculean labour, which should stoop his broad shoulders and +streak his dark hair with gray, when men should speak of the noble +missionary, Hugh Marsden, and of the incredible work carried forward by +him beyond the pale of civilisation. + +There was no limit to his endurance, no lack of cheerfulness in his +efforts, they said; no labour was too great, no scheme too +impracticable, no possibility too remote, for the energies of that +arduous soul. + +Hugh Marsden only smiled at their praise; he was free and unfettered; he +had no wife or child; danger would touch him alone. What should hinder +him from undertaking any enterprise in his Master's service? But +wherever he went in his lonely hours, or in his long sunshiny converse +with others, he ever remained faithful to his memory of Olive; she was +still to him the purest ideal of womanhood. At times her face, with its +cloudy dark hair and fathomless eyes, would haunt him with strange +persistence. Whole lines and passages of her poetry would return to his +memory, stirring him with subtle sweetness and vague longings for home. + +And Olive, how was it with her during those years of home duty, so +patiently, so unselfishly performed? While she achieved her modest fame, +and carried it so meekly, had she any remembrance of Hugh Marsden? + +'I remember all the more that I try to forget,' she said once when +Mildred had put this question to her. 'Now I shall try no more, for I +know I cannot forget him.' And again there had been that sadness in her +voice. But she never spoke of him voluntarily even to Mildred, but hid +in her quiet soul many a secret yearning. They were separated thousands +of miles, yet his honest face and voice were often present with her, and +never nearer than when she whispered prayers for the friend who had once +loved her. + +And neither of them knew that the years would bring them together again; +that one day, Hugh Marsden, broken in health, and craving for a sight of +his native land, should be sent home on an important mission, to find +Olive free and unfettered, and waiting for him in her brother's home. + + +THE END + + + + +THE NOVELS OF ROSA NOUCHETTE CAREY. + + +NELLIE'S MEMORIES. + +_STANDARD._--"Miss Carey has the gift of writing naturally and simply, +her pathos is true and unforced, and her conversations are sprightly and +sharp." + + +WEE WIFIE. + +_LADY._--"Miss Carey's novels are always welcome; they are out of the +common run, immaculately pure, and very high in tone." + + +BARBARA HEATHCOTE'S TRIAL. + +_DAILY TELEGRAPH._--"A novel of a sort which it would be a real loss to +miss." + + +ROBERT ORD'S ATONEMENT. + +_STANDARD._--"Robert Ord's Atonement is a delightful book, very quiet as +to its story, but very strong in character, and instinctive with that +delicate pathos which is the salient point of all the writings of this +author." + + +WOOED AND MARRIED. + +_STANDARD._--"There is plenty of romance in the heroine's life. But it +would not be fair to tell our readers wherein that romance consists or +how it ends. Let them read the book for themselves. We will undertake to +promise that they will like it." + + +HERIOT'S CHOICE. + +_MORNING POST._--"Deserves to be extensively known and read.... Will +doubtless find as many admirers as readers." + + +QUEENIE'S WHIM. + +_GUARDIAN._--"A thoroughly good and wholesome story." + + +NOT LIKE OTHER GIRLS. + +_PALL MALL GAZETTE._--"Like all the other stories we have had from the +same gifted pen, this volume, Not Like Other Girls, takes a sane and +healthy view of life and its concerns.... It is an excellent story to +put in the hands of girls." + +_NEW YORK HOME JOURNAL._--"One of the sweetest, daintiest, and most +interesting of the season's publications." + + +MARY ST. JOHN. + +_JOHN BULL._--"The story is a simple one, but told with much grace and +unaffected pathos." + + +FOR LILIAS. + +_VANITY FAIR._--"A simple, earnest, and withal very interesting story; +well conceived, carefully worked out, and sympathetically told." + + +UNCLE MAX. + +_LADY._--"So intrinsically good that the world of novel-readers ought to +be genuinely grateful." + + +ONLY THE GOVERNESS. + +_PALL MALL GAZETTE._--"This novel is for those who like stories with +something of Jane Austen's power, but with more intensity of feeling +than Jane Austen displayed, who are not inclined to call pathos twaddle, +and who care to see life and human nature in their most beautiful form." + + +LOVER OR FRIEND? + +_GUARDIAN._--"The refinement of style and delicacy of thought will make +_Lover or Friend?_ popular with all readers who are not too deeply +bitten with a desire for things improbable in their lighter literature." + + +BASIL LYNDHURST. + +_PALL MALL GAZETTE._--"We doubt whether anything has been written of +late years so fresh, so pretty, so thoroughly natural and bright. The +novel as a whole is charming." + + +SIR GODFREY'S GRANDDAUGHTERS. + +_OBSERVER._--"A capital story. The interest steadily grows, and by the +time one reaches the third volume the story has become enthralling." + + +THE OLD, OLD STORY. + +_DAILY NEWS._--"Miss Carey's fluent pen has not lost its power of +writing fresh and wholesome fiction." + + +THE MISTRESS OF BRAE FARM. + +_PALL MALL GAZETTE._--"Miss Carey's untiring pen loses none of its +power, and her latest work is as gracefully written, as full of quiet +home charm, as fresh and wholesome, so to speak, as its many +predecessors." + + +MRS. ROMNEY and "BUT MEN MUST WORK." + +_PALL MALL GAZETTE._--"By no means the least attractive of the works of +this charming writer." + + +OTHER PEOPLE'S LIVES. + + +RUE WITH A DIFFERENCE. + +_BOOKMAN._--"Fresh and charming.... A piece of distinctly good work." + +_ATHENAEUM._--"A pretty love story." + + +HERB OF GRACE. + +_GLOBE._--"Told in the writer's best and most popular manner." + +_WORLD._--"The story is well conceived and well sustained." + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Heriot's Choice, by Rosa Nouchette Carey + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HERIOT'S CHOICE *** + +***** This file should be named 35901.txt or 35901.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/5/9/0/35901/ + +Produced by Chris Curnow, Lindy Walsh, Mary Meehan and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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