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Meade + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + text-indent: 1em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + h1.head {margin: 3em auto 2em auto; font-size: 250%;} + h2 {line-height: 2em; margin: auto auto 0 auto; text-align: center; clear: both;} + hr {margin: 3em auto 3em auto; + height: 1px; + border-width: 1px 0 0 0; + border-style: solid; + border-color: #ca834f; + width: 50%; + clear: both; + } + hr.hr2 {margin: 2em auto 2em auto; width: 25%;} + hr.hr3 {margin: 2em auto 0 auto; width: 50%;} + hr.hr4 {margin: 0em auto 2em auto; width: 25%;} + hr.hr5 {margin: 3em auto 0 auto; width: 50%;} + hr.hr6 {margin: 0em auto 3em auto; width: 50%;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + em {font-style: italic;} + + table {margin: 2em auto 2em auto; text-align: center; border-collapse: collapse; width: 600px;} + .tda {text-align: right; padding-right: .5em; text-indent: 0;} + .tdb {text-align: left; padding-right: .5em; text-indent: 0;} + .tdc {text-align: right; padding-left: 2em; text-indent: 0;} + + .pagenum {/* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /*visibility: hidden;*/ + position: absolute; + left: 95%; + font-size: 10px; + font-weight: normal; + font-variant: normal; + font-style: normal; + letter-spacing: normal; + text-indent: 0em; + text-align: right; + color: #999999; + background-color: #ffffff; + } /* page numbers */ + + .blockquot{margin: 2em 4em 2em 4em;} + + .tn {margin: 3em auto 0em auto; text-align: center; width: 500px; border: 1px solid; background-color: #fffdf0;} + .tp {margin: 5em auto 3em auto; text-align: center; width: 350px; border: 6px ridge #fffdf0; padding: 1em;} + .tobox {margin: 1em auto 1em auto; text-align: center; width: 300px; border: none;} + + .block {margin: 0em auto 2.5em auto; text-align: center; width: 30em;} + .block2 {margin: 0em auto 2.5em auto; text-align: center; width: 40em;} + .center {text-align: center;} + .right {text-align: right; margin: 0 5em 0 auto; text-indent: 0;} + .right2 {text-align: right; margin: 0 3em auto auto; text-indent: 0;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + .caption {font-weight: bold; font-variant: small-caps;} + .caption2 {font-weight: bold; font-size: 80%;} + .title {font-size: 150%; text-align: center; text-indent: 0;} + .bb {border-bottom: 1px solid; width: 350px; padding: 1em 0 2em 0;} + .bt {border-top: 1px solid; width: 350px; padding: 2em 0 1em 0;} + .to {font-size: 80%; text-align: center;} + .tiny {font-size: 60%; text-align: center;} + .pub {font-size: 90%; text-align: center;} + .nb {margin-bottom: 0;} + .nt {margin-top: 0;} + .noi {text-indent: 0em;} + .figcenter {margin: 3em auto 3em auto; text-align: center;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span.ix {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3.5em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i8 {display: block; margin-left: 8em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i10 {display: block; margin-left: 10em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i12 {display: block; margin-left: 12em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i14 {display: block; margin-left: 14em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i16 {display: block; margin-left: 16em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em; margin-top: 1em;} + + + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Young Mutineer, by Mrs. L. T. Meade + +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: A Young Mutineer + +Author: Mrs. L. T. Meade + +Release Date: February 13, 2008 [EBook #24599] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A YOUNG MUTINEER *** + + + + +Produced by David Edwards, Jacqueline Jeremy and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="tn"> +<p class="center to">Transcriber's Note:</p> + +<p class="center to">The words <a href="#tnote">"if only little Judy had stayed with me, I +should"</a>, possibly repeated instead of the first words of the +next sentence, have been reproduced as typeset.</p> +</div> + + + +<h1 class="head">A Young Mutineer</h1> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 398px;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="398" height="600" alt="A Young Mutineer" title="Cover" /> +</div> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 416px;"> +<img src="images/frontis.jpg" width="416" height="600" alt=""WAS THE PERSON FICKLE, AND DID HE BREAK HIS PROMISE?" +Frontispiece." title="" /> +<span class="caption">"was the person fickle, and did he break his promise?"</span> +<span class="caption2"><a href="#frontis"><em>Frontispiece</em></a>.</span> +</div> + + + +<div class="tp"> +<p class="title bb"><big>A Young Mutineer</big></p> + +<p class="title nb"><small>BY</small> +<br /> +MRS. L. T. MEADE</p> + +<p class="smcap bb noi center nt"><small>author of "a girl in ten thousand," "a ring of +rubies," "girls new and old," etc.</small></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 120px;"> +<img src="images/title.jpg" width="120" height="52" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p class="title bt"><span class="pub"><small>NEW YORK</small><br /> +STITT PUBLISHING COMPANY<br /> +<small>1905</small></span></p> +</div> + +<hr class="hr5" /> + +<div class="tobox"> +<p class="center"><span class="to">TO</span><br /> +MY LITTLE GIRL HOPE<br /> +<small>THE REAL JUDY</small></p> +<p class="nb"><span class="tiny">October 23, 1893</span></p> +</div> + +<hr class="hr6" /> + + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[v]</a></span> +CONTENTS.</h2> + +<table summary="table of contents"> +<tr> +<th class="tdb" colspan="2"><small>CHAPTER</small></th> +<th class="tdc"><small>PAGE</small></th> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tda">I.</td> +<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">An Old-fashioned Little Pair</span></td> +<td class="tdc"><a href="#pair">1</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tda">II.</td> +<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">The People Who Get Married</span></td> +<td class="tdc"><a href="#married">14</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tda">III.</td> +<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">A Question and an Answer</span></td> +<td class="tdc"><a href="#answer">26</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tda">IV.</td> +<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Changes</span></td> +<td class="tdc"><a href="#changes">36</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tda">V.</td> +<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">In a Garden</span></td> +<td class="tdc"><a href="#garden">52</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tda">VI.</td> +<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">The Eve of the Wedding</span></td> +<td class="tdc"><a href="#wedding">67</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tda">VII.</td> +<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">A Wedding Present</span></td> +<td class="tdc"><a href="#present">82</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tda">VIII.</td> +<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Honeymoon</span></td> +<td class="tdc"><a href="#honeymoon">91</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tda">IX.</td> +<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Starved</span></td> +<td class="tdc"><a href="#starved">101</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tda">X.</td> +<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Waiting</span></td> +<td class="tdc"><a href="#waiting">118</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tda">XI.</td> +<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Husband and Wife</span></td> +<td class="tdc"><a href="#wife">129</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tda">XII.</td> +<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Hilda's Engagement Ring</span></td> +<td class="tdc"><a href="#ring">149</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tda">XIII.</td> +<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Judy's Room</span></td> +<td class="tdc"><a href="#room">157</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tda">XIV.</td> +<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">The Little Rift</span></td> +<td class="tdc"><a href="#rift">174</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tda">XV.</td> +<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Three Is Trumpery</span></td> +<td class="tdc"><a href="#trumpery">186</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tda">XVI.</td> +<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">A Little Girl and a Little Cross</span></td> +<td class="tdc"><a href="#cross">195</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tda">XVII.</td> +<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Judy's Secret</span></td> +<td class="tdc"><a href="#secret">208</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tda">XVIII.</td> +<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Giant-killer</span></td> +<td class="tdc"><a href="#killer">224</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tda">XIX.</td> +<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Good Omens</span></td> +<td class="tdc"><a href="#omens">253</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + + +<hr class="hr3" /> + +<h1><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span> +<a name="pair" id="pair"></a>A YOUNG MUTINEER.</h1> + +<hr class="hr4" /> + +<h2>CHAPTER I<br /> +<small>AN OLD-FASHIONED LITTLE PAIR.</small></h2> + +<div class="block"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sun and shower—sun and shower—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Now rough, now smooth, is the winding way;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thorn and flower—thorn and flower—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which will you gather? Who can say?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wayward hearts, there's a world for your winning,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sorrow and laughter, love or woe:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who can tell in the day's beginning<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The paths that your wandering feet shall go?<br /></span></div></div> +<p class="right smcap">—Mary Macleod.</p> +</div> + + +<p>The village choir were practicing in the church—their voices, somewhat +harsh and uncultivated, were sending forth volumes of sound into the +summer air. The church doors were thrown open, and a young man dressed +in cricketing-flannels was leaning against the porch. He was tall, and +square-shouldered, with closely-cropped dark hair, and a keen, +intelligent face.</p> + +<p>When the music became very loud and discordant he moved impatiently, but +as the human voices ceased and the sweet notes of the voluntary sounded +in full melody on the little organ, a <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span>look of relief swept like a +soothing hand over his forehead.</p> + +<p>The gates of the Rectory were within a stone's throw of the church. Up +the avenue three people might have been seen advancing. Two were +children, one an adult. The grown member of this little group was tall +and slight; she wore spectacles, and although not specially gifted with +wisdom, possessed a particularly wise appearance. The two little girls, +who were her pupils, walked somewhat sedately by her side. As they +passed the church the governess looked neither to right nor left, but +the eldest girl fixed her keen and somewhat hungry eyes with a +questioning gaze on the young man who stood in the porch. He nodded back +to her a glance full of intelligence, which he further emphasized by a +quick and somewhat audacious wink from his left eye. The little girl +walked on loftily; she thought that Jasper Quentyns, who was more or +less a stranger in the neighborhood, had taken a distinct liberty.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter, Judy?" asked the smallest of the girls.</p> + +<p>"Nothing," replied Judy quickly. She turned to her governess as she +spoke. "Miss Mills, I was very good at my lessons to-day, wasn't I?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Judy."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span>"You are not going to forget what you promised me?"</p> + +<p>"I am afraid I do forget; what was it?"</p> + +<p>"You said if I were really good I might stop at the church on my way +back and go home with Hilda. I have been good, so I may go home with +Hilda, may I not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, child, of course, if I promised, but we are only just on our walk +now. It is a fine autumnal day, and I want to get to the woods to pick +some bracken and heather, for your Aunt Marjorie has asked me to fill +all the vases for dinner to-night. There are not half enough flowers in +the garden, so I must go to the woods, whatever happens. Your sister +will have left the church when we return, Judy."</p> + +<p>"No, she won't," replied Judy. "The practice will be twice as long as +usual to-day because of the Harvest Festival on Sunday."</p> + +<p>"Well, if she is there you can go in and wait for her, as you have been +a good girl. Now let us talk of something else."</p> + +<p>"I have nothing else to talk about," answered Judy, somewhat sulkily.</p> + +<p>The bright expression which gave her small eager face its charm, left +it; she fell back a pace or two, and Miss Mills walked on alone in +front.</p> + +<p>Judy was not popular with her governess. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span>Miss Mills was tired of her +constant remarks about Hilda. She had a good deal to think of to-day, +and she was pleased to let her two pupils amuse themselves.</p> + +<p>Judy's hungry and unsatisfied eyes softened and grew happy when their +gaze fell upon Babs. Babs was only six, and she had a power of +interesting everyone with whom she came in contact. Her wise, fat face, +somewhat solemn in expression, was the essence of good-humor. Her blue +eyes were as serene as an unruffled summer pool. She could say heaps of +old-fashioned, quaint things. She had strong likes and dislikes, but she +was never known to be cross. She adored Judy, but Judy only liked her, +for all Judy's passionate love was already disposed of. It centered +itself round her eldest sister, Hilda.</p> + +<p>The day was a late one in September. The air was still very balmy and +even warm, and Miss Mills soon found herself sufficiently tired to be +glad to take advantage of a stile which led right through the field into +the woods to rest herself. She sat comfortably on the top of the stile, +and looking down the road saw that her little pupils were disporting +themselves happily; they were not in the slightest danger, and she was +in no hurry to call them to her side.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span>"Children are the most fagging creatures in Christendom," she said to +herself; "for my part I can't understand anyone going into raptures over +them. For one nice child there are twenty disagreeable ones. I have +nothing to say against Babs, of course; but Judy, she is about the most +spoilt creature I ever came across, and of course it is all Hilda's +fault. I must speak to Mr. Merton, I really must, if this goes on. Hilda +and Judy ought to be parted, but of course Hilda won't leave home +unless, unless—ah, I wonder if there is <em>any</em> chance of that. Too good +news to be true. Too good luck for Mr. Quentyns anyhow. I shouldn't be +surprised if he is trying to get Hilda all this time, but—he is +scarcely likely to succeed. Poor Judy! what a blow anything of that kind +would be to her; but of course there is not the least chance of it."</p> + +<p>Miss Mills took off her hat as she spoke, and allowed the summer air to +play with her somewhat thin fringe and to cool her heated cheeks.</p> + +<p>"I hate children," she soliloquized. "I did hope that my time of +servitude was nearly over, but when men prove so unfaithful!" Here a +very angry gleam flashed out of her eyes; she put her hand into her +pocket, and taking out a letter, read it slowly and carefully. Her +expression <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span>was not pleasant while she perused the words on the closely +written page.</p> + +<p>She had just returned the letter to its envelope when a gay voice +sounded in her ears. A girl was seen walking across the field and +approaching the stile. She was a fair-haired, pretty girl, dressed in +the height of the fashion. She had a merry laugh, and a merry voice, and +two very bright blue eyes.</p> + +<p>"How do you do, Miss Mills?" she called to her. "I am going to see +Hilda. Can you tell me if she is at home?"</p> + +<p>"How do you do, Miss Anstruther?" replied Miss Mills; "I did not know +you had returned."</p> + +<p>"Yes, we all came home yesterday. I am longing to see Hilda, I have such +heaps of things to tell her. Is she at the Rectory?"</p> + +<p>"At the present moment she is very busily employed trying to train the +most unmelodious choir in Great Britain," replied Miss Mills. "The +Harvest Festival takes place on Sunday, and in consequence she has more +than usual to do."</p> + +<p>"Ah, you need not tell me; I am not going to venture within sound of +that choir. I shall go down to the Rectory and wait until her duties are +ended. There is not the least hurry. Good-by, Miss Mills. Are the +children well?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span>"You can see for yourself," replied Miss Mills; "they are coming up the +road side by side."</p> + +<p>"Old-fashioned little pair," replied Miss Anstruther, with a laugh. +"I'll just run down the road and give them a kiss each, and then go on +to the Rectory."</p> + +<p>Miss Mills did not say anything further. Miss Anstruther mounted the +stile, called out to the children to announce her approach, kissed them +when they met, received an earnest gaze from Judy and an indifferent one +from Babs, and went on her way.</p> + +<p>"Do you like her, Judy?" asked Babs, when the pretty girl had left them.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes!" replied Judy in a careless tone; "she is well enough. I don't +love her, if that's what you mean, Babs."</p> + +<p>"Of course it isn't what I mean," replied Babs. "How many rooms have you +got in your heart, Judy?"</p> + +<p>"One big room quite full," replied Judy with emphasis.</p> + +<p>"I know—it's full of Hilda."</p> + +<p>"It is."</p> + +<p>"I have got a good many rooms in my heart," said Babs. "Mr. Love is in +some of them, and Mr. Like is in others. Have you no room in your heart +for Mr. Like, Judy?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span>"No."</p> + +<p>"Then poor Miss Mills does not live in your heart at all?"</p> + +<p>"No. Oh, dear! what a long walk she's going to take us to-day. If I had +known that this morning, I wouldn't have taken so much pains over my +arithmetic. I shan't have a scrap of time with Hilda. It is too bad. I +am sure Miss Mills does it to worry me. She never can bear us to be +together."</p> + +<p>"Poor Judy!" replied Babs. "I shan't let Miss Mills live in my heart at +all if she vexes you; but oh, dear; oh, dear! Just look, do look! Do you +see that monstrous spider over there, the one with the sun shining on +his web?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Don't you love spiders?"</p> + +<p>"Of course. I love all animals. I have a separate heart for animals."</p> + +<p>Babs looked intensely interested.</p> + +<p>"I love all animals too," she said, "every single one, all kinds—<em>even</em> +pigs. Don't you love pigs, Judy?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I do."</p> + +<p>"I wonder if Miss Mills does? There she is, reading her letter. She has +read it twenty times already to-day, so she must know it by heart <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span>now. +Let's run up and ask her if she loves pigs."</p> + +<p>Judy quickened her steps, and the two little girls presently reached the +stile.</p> + +<p>"Miss Mills," said Babs, in her clear voice, "we want to know something +very badly. Do you love pigs?"</p> + +<p>"Do I love pigs?" asked Miss Mills with a start. "You ridiculous child, +what nonsense you are talking!"</p> + +<p>"But do you?" repeated Babs. "It is most important for Judy and me to +know; for we love them, poor things—we think they're awfully nice."</p> + +<p>Miss Mills laughed in the kind of manner which always irritated Judy.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry not to be able to join your very peculiar hero-worship, my +dears," she said. "I can't say that I am attached to the pig."</p> + +<p>"Then it is very wrong of you," said Judy, her eyes flashing, "when you +think of all the poor pig does for you."</p> + +<p>"Of all the poor pig does for me! What next?"</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't be the woman you are but for the pig," said Judy. "Don't +you eat him every day of your life for breakfast? You wouldn't be as +strong as you are but for the poor pig, and the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span>least you can do is to +love him. I don't suppose he likes being killed to oblige you."</p> + +<p>Judy's great eyes were flashing, and her little sensitive mouth was +quivering.</p> + +<p>Miss Mills gave her a non-comprehending glance. She could not in the +least fathom the child's queer passionate nature. Injustice of all sorts +preyed upon Judy; she could make herself morbid on almost any theme, and +a gloomy picture now filled her little soul. The animals were giving up +their lives for the human race, and the human race did not even give +them affection in return.</p> + +<p>"Is that letter very funny?" asked Babs.</p> + +<p>"It is not funny, but it is interesting to me."</p> + +<p>"Do you love the person who wrote it to you?"</p> + +<p>Miss Mills let the sheet of closely-written paper fall upon her lap; her +eyes gazed into the child's serene and wise little face. Something +impelled her to say words which she knew could not be understood.</p> + +<p>"I hate the person who wrote that letter more than anyone else in all +the world," she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>There was a passionate ring in her thin voice. The emotion which filled +her voice and shone out of her eyes gave pathos to her commonplace +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span>face. Babs began to pull a flower to pieces. She had never conjugated +the verb to hate, and did not know in the least what it meant; but Judy +looked at her governess with new interest.</p> + +<p>"Why do you get letters from the person you hate so much?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Don't ask any more questions," replied Miss Mills. She folded up the +sheet of paper, slipped it into its envelope, replaced the envelope in +her pocket, and started to her feet. "Let us continue our walk," she +said. "We shall reach the woods in five minutes if we are quick."</p> + +<p>"But," said Judy, as they went down the path across the field, "I +<em>should</em> like to know, Miss Mills, why you get letters from a person you +hate."</p> + +<p>"When little girls ask troublesome questions they must not expect them +to be answered," responded Miss Mills.</p> + +<p>Judy was silent. The faint, passing interest she had experienced died +out of her face, and the rather sulky, unsatisfied expression returned +to it.</p> + +<p>Miss Mills, whose heart was very full of something, spoke again, more to +herself than to the children.</p> + +<p>"If there is one bigger mistake than another," she said, "it is the +mistake of being fond of any <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span>one. Oh, how silly girls are when they get +engaged to be married!"</p> + +<p>"What's that?" asked Babs.</p> + +<p>"I know," said Judy, who was again all curiosity and interest. "I'll +tell you another time about it, Babs. Miss Hicks in the village was +engaged, and she had a wedding in the summer. I'll tell you all about +it, Babs, if you ask me when we are going to bed to-night. Please, Miss +Mills, why is it dreadful to be engaged to be married?"</p> + +<p>"Your troubles begin then," said Miss Mills. "Oh, don't talk to me about +it, children. May you never understand what I am suffering! Oh, the +fickleness of some people! The promises that are made only to be broken! +You trust a person, and you are ever so happy; and then you find that +you have made a great, big mistake, and you are miserable."</p> + +<p>"Is that you, Miss Mills? Are you the miserable person?" asked Judy.</p> + +<p>"No, no, child! I didn't say it was me. I wasn't talking of anyone in +particular, and I shouldn't even have said what I did. Forget it, +Judy—forget it, Babs. Come, let us collect the ferns."</p> + +<p>"Suppose we find some white heather," said Babs eagerly.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span>"And much that's worth, too," replied Miss Mills. "I found a piece last +summer. I gave——" She sighed, and the corners of her mouth drooped. +She looked as if she were going to cry.</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> +<a name="married" id="married"></a>CHAPTER II.<br /> + +<small>THE PEOPLE WHO GET MARRIED.</small></h2> + +<div class="block"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou wert mine—all mine!...<br /></span> +<span class="i2">—Where has summer fled?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sun forgets to shine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Clouds are overhead;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blows a chilling blast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Tells my frightened heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That the hour at last<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Comes when we must part.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hurrying moments, stay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Leave us yet alone!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the world grows gray,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Love, when thou art flown.<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + + +<p>Judy's soul swelled within her when she heard the music still sending +volumes of sound out of the little church. Miss Mills had not spoken all +the way home. Babs had chattered without a moment's intermission. Her +conversation had been entirely about birds and beasts and creeping +things. Judy had replied with rather less interest than usual. She was +so anxious to hurry home, so fearful of being too late. Now it was all +right. Hilda was still in the church, and, delightful—more than +delightful—the discordant notes of the choir had ceased, and only <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span>the +delicious sounds of the organ were borne on the breeze.</p> + +<p>"Hilda is in the church," said Judy, pulling her governess by her +sleeve. "Good-by, Miss Mills; good-by, Babs."</p> + +<p>She rushed away, scarcely heeding her governess's voice as it called +after her to be sure to be back at the Rectory in time for tea.</p> + +<p>The church doors were still open, but the young man in the +cricketing-flannels, who had stood in the porch when Judy had started on +her walk, was no longer to be seen. The little girl stole into the quiet +church on tip-toe, crept up to her sister Hilda's side, and lying down +on the floor, laid her head on her sister's white dress.</p> + +<p>Judy's lips kissed the hem of the dress two or three times; then she lay +quiet, a sweet expression round her lips, a tranquil, satisfied light in +her eyes. Here she was at rest, her eager, craving heart was full and +satisfied.</p> + +<p>"You dear little monkey!" said Hilda, pausing for a moment in her really +magnificent rendering of one of Bach's most passionate fugues. She +touched the child's head lightly with her hand as she spoke.</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't stop, Hilda; go on. I am so happy," whispered Judy back.</p> + +<p>Hilda smiled, and immediately resumed the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span>music which thrilled through +and through Judy's soul.</p> + +<p>Hilda was eighteen, and the full glory and bloom of this perfect age +surrounded her; it shone in her dark red-brown hair, and gleamed in her +brown eyes, and smiled on her lips and even echoed from her sweet voice. +Hilda would always be lovely to look at, but she had the tender radiance +of early spring about her now. Judy was not the only person who thought +her the fairest creature in the world.</p> + +<p>While she was playing, and the influence of the music was more and more +filling her face, there came a shadow across the church door. The shadow +lengthened and grew longer, and the young man, whose smile Judy had +ignored, came softly across the church and up to Hilda's side.</p> + +<p>"Go on playing," he said, nodding to her. "I have been waiting and +listening. I can wait and listen a little longer if you will allow me to +sit in the church."</p> + +<p>"I shall have done in a moment," said Hilda. "I just want to choose +something for the final voluntary." She took up a book of lighter music +as she spoke, and selecting some of Haydn's sweet and gracious melodies, +began to play.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span>Judy stirred restlessly. Jasper Quentyns came closer, so close that his +shadow fell partly over the child as she lay on the ground, and quite +shut away the evening sunlight as it streamed over Hilda's figure. +Jasper was a musician himself, and he made comments which were listened +to attentively.</p> + +<p>Hilda played the notes as he directed her. She brought added volume into +certain passages, she rendered the light staccato notes with precision.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you are spoiling the playing," said Judy suddenly. She started up, +knitting her black brows and glaring angrily at Jasper Quentyns.</p> + +<p>"You don't mean to say you are here all the time, you little puss," he +exclaimed. "I thought you and Miss Mills and Babs were miles away by +now. Why, what's the matter, child? Why do you frown at me as if I were +an ogre?"</p> + +<p>Hilda put her arm round Judy's waist. The contact of Hilda's arm was +like balm to the child; she smiled and held out her hand penitently.</p> + +<p>"Of course I don't think you are an ogre," she said, "but I do wish you +would let Hilda play her music her own way."</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't talk nonsense, Judy," said Hilda; <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span>"you quite forget that Mr. +Quentyns knows a great deal more about music than I do."</p> + +<p>"He doesn't play half nor quarter as well as you, for all that," replied +Judy, with emphasis.</p> + +<p>Hilda bent forward and kissed her little sister on her forehead.</p> + +<p>"We won't have any more music at present," she said, "it is time for us +to return to the house. You are going to dine at the Rectory this +evening, are you not, Mr. Quentyns?"</p> + +<p>"If you will have me."</p> + +<p>"Of course we shall all be delighted to have you."</p> + +<p>"Hilda," said Judy, "do you know that Mildred Anstruther is down at the +house waiting to see you?"</p> + +<p>A faint shadow of disappointment flitted across Hilda Merton's face—an +additional wave of color mounted to Jasper Quentyns' brow. He looked at +Hilda to see if she had noticed it; Hilda turned from him and began to +arrange her music.</p> + +<p>"Come," she said, "we mustn't keep Mildred waiting."</p> + +<p>"What has she come for?" asked Jasper, as the three walked down the +shady avenue.</p> + +<p>"You know you are glad to see her," replied Hilda suddenly.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span>Something in her tone caused Jasper to laugh and raise his brows in +mock surprise. Judy looked eagerly from one face to the other. Her heart +began to beat with fierce dislike to Jasper. What right had he to +interfere with Hilda's music, and above all things, what right, pray, +had he to bring that tone, into Hilda's beloved voice?</p> + +<p>Judy clasped her sister's arm with a tight pressure. In a few minutes +they reached the old-fashioned and cozy Rectory.</p> + +<p>The Rector was pacing about in the pleasant evening sunshine, and +Mildred Anstruther was walking by his side and chatting to him.</p> + +<p>"Oh, here you are," said Mildred, running up to her friend and greeting +her with affection; "and you have come too, Mr. Quentyns?—this is a +delightful surprise."</p> + +<p>"You had better run into the house now, Judy," said Hilda. "Yes, +darling, go at once."</p> + +<p>"May I come down after dinner to-night, Hilda?"</p> + +<p>"You look rather pale, Judy, and as we are having friends to dinner it +may be best for you to go to bed early," said another voice. It +proceeded from the comfortable, good-natured mouth of Aunt Marjorie.</p> + +<p>"No, no, Aunt Maggie, you won't send me to <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span>bed. Hilda, you'll plead for +me, won't you?" gasped Judy.</p> + +<p>"I think she may come down just for half an hour, auntie," said Hilda, +smiling.</p> + +<p>"Well, child, it must be as you please; of course we all know who spoils +Judy."</p> + +<p>"Of course we all know who loves Judy," said Hilda. "Now are you +satisfied, my sweet? Run away; be the best of good children. Eat a +hearty tea; don't think of any trouble. Oh, Judy! what a frown you have +between your brows; let me kiss it away. I'll find you in the drawing +room after dinner."</p> + +<p>"And you'll come and talk to me if only for one minute. Promise, +promise, Hilda!"</p> + +<p>"Of course I promise; now run off."</p> + +<p>Judy went slowly away. She thought the grown people very unkind to +dismiss her. She was interested in all people who were grown up; she had +not a great deal of sympathy with children—she felt that she did not +quite belong to them. The depths of her thoughts, the intense pathos of +her unsatisfied affections were incomprehensible to most children. Hilda +understood her perfectly, and even Aunt Marjorie and her father were +more agreeable companions than Miss Mills and Babs.</p> + +<p>There was no help for it, however. Judy was <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span>a schoolroom child, and +back to the schoolroom and to Miss Mills' dull society she must go. +Swinging her hat on her arm she walked slowly down the long, cool stone +passage which led from the principal hall to the schoolroom regions. A +maidservant of the name of Susan hurried past her with the tray which +contained the schoolroom tea in her hands.</p> + +<p>"You must be quick, Miss Judy, I am bringing in the tea," she said.</p> + +<p>Judy frowned. She did not think it at all necessary for Susan to remind +her of her rather disagreeable duties. Instead of hurrying to the +schoolroom she stood still and looked out of one of the windows. The +words Miss Mills had uttered as they walked across the fields to the +wood kept returning to her memory. In some curious, undefined, +uncomfortable way she connected them with her sister Hilda. What did +they mean? Why was it dreadful to be engaged to be married? Why were +some people so fickle, and why were promises broken? Judy had never seen +Miss Mills so excited before.</p> + +<p>"She looked quite interesting when she spoke in that voice," said Judy +to herself. "What did she mean? what could she mean? She said it was +dreadful to be married, and dreadful to be engaged. I think I'll go and +ask Mrs. Sutton. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span>I don't care if I am a bit late for tea. The worst +Miss Mills will do is to give me some poetry to learn, and I like +learning poetry. Yes, I'll go and see Mrs. Sutton. She was married +twice, so she must have been engaged twice. She must know all—all about +it. She's a much better judge than Miss Mills, who never was married at +all."</p> + +<p>Judy opened a baize door, which shut behind her with a bang. She went +down a few steps, and a moment later was standing in a comfortably +furnished sitting room which belonged to the housekeeper, Mrs. Sutton.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Sutton was a stout, portly old lady. She had twinkling good-humored +eyes, a mouth which smiled whenever she looked at a child, and a +constant habit of putting her hand into her pocket and taking out a +lollipop. This lollipop found its way straight into the receptive mouth +of any small creature of the human race who came in her way.</p> + +<p>"Is that you, Miss Judy?" she said now, turning round and setting down +her own cup of strong tea. "Come along, my pet, and give me a kiss. What +do you say to this?" She held a pink sugar-stick between her finger and +thumb. "I suppose you'll want another for Miss Babs, bless her!"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span>"Yes, thank you, Sutton," replied Judy. "Will you lay them on the +table, please, and I'll take them when I am going away. Sutton, I want +to talk to you about a <em>very</em> private matter."</p> + +<p>"Well, darling—bless your dear heart, your secrets are safe enough with +me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it isn't exactly a secret, Sutton—it is something I want to know. +Is it a dreadful thing to be engaged to be married?"</p> + +<p>"Bless us and save us!" said Mrs. Sutton. She flopped down again on her +seat, and her red face grew purple. "Are you quite well, Miss Judy? You +haven't been reading naughty books now, that you shouldn't open? What +could put such thoughts into the head of a little miss like you?"</p> + +<p>"Please answer me, Sutton, it is most important. Is it dreadful to be +engaged to be married? and are people fickle? and are promises broken?"</p> + +<p>"But, my dear——"</p> + +<p>"Will you answer me, dear, kind Sutton?"</p> + +<p>"Well, Miss Judy, well—anything to please you, dearie—it all depends."</p> + +<p>"What does it depend on?"</p> + +<p>"Taken from the female point of view, it depends on the sort the young +man is; but, my <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span>darling, it's many and many a long day before you need +worrit yourself with such matters."</p> + +<p>"But I want to know," persisted Judy. "People do get married. You were +married twice yourself, Sutton; you told me so once."</p> + +<p>"So I was dear, and both my wedding gowns are in a trunk upstairs. My +first was a figured sateen, a buff-colored ground with red flowers +thrown over it. My second was a gray poplin. I was supposed to do very +well with my second marriage, Miss Judy."</p> + +<p>"Then you were twice engaged, and twice married," said Judy. "I don't +want to hear about the wedding gowns, Sutton. I am rather in a hurry. I +want you to tell me about the other things. What were they like—the +being engaged, and the being married? <a name="frontis" id="frontis"></a>Was the person fickle, and did he +break his promise?"</p> + +<p>For some reason or other Mrs. Sutton's face became so deeply flushed +that she looked quite angry.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you what it is, Miss Judy," she said, "someone is putting +thoughts into your head what oughtn't to do it. You are a motherless +child, and there's someone filling your head with arrant nonsense. What +do you know about engagements and—and disappointments, and dreams what +proves but early mists of the morning? <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span>what do you know of fickleness +and broken promises? There, child, you won't get any of that bad sort of +knowledge out of me. Now you run away, dearie. There's someone been +talking about what they oughtn't to, and you has no call to listen, my +pet. There's some weddings happy, and there's some that aint, and that's +all I can say. Run away now, Miss Judy."</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> +<a name="answer" id="answer"></a>CHAPTER III.<br /> + +<small>A QUESTION AND AN ANSWER.</small></h2> + +<div class="block"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When some belovèd voice that was to you<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Both sound and sweetness, faileth suddenly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And silence against which you dare not cry<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aches round you like a strong disease and new—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What hope? what help? what music will undo<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That silence to your sense?<br /></span></div></div> +<p class="right smcap">—E. Barrett Browning.</p> +</div> + + +<p>Hilda Merton stood in a rather irresolute fashion in her bedroom. +Several people were coming to dine at the Rectory to-night, and she, as +the young mistress of the establishment, ought to be in the drawing room +even now, waiting to receive her guests. The Rector was a very wealthy +man, and all those luxuries surrounded Hilda which are the portion of +those who are gently nurtured and well-born. Her maid had left the room, +the young girl's simple white dress was arranged to perfection, her +lovely hair was coiled becomingly around her shapely head. She was +standing before her looking-glass, putting the final touches to her +toilet.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span>For some reason they took a long time to put. Hilda gazed into the +reflection of her own pretty face as if she saw it not. Her brown eyes +looked through the mirrored eyes in the glass with an almost abstracted +expression. Suddenly a smile flitted across her face.</p> + +<p>"I'll do it," she exclaimed. "I'll wear his white rose. He may think +what he pleases. I—I do love him with all my heart and soul."</p> + +<p>She blushed as she uttered these last words, and looked in a +half-frightened way across the room, as if by chance someone might have +overheard her.</p> + +<p>The next moment the white rose was snugly peeping out from among the +coils of her rich hair. Her dress was fastened at the throat with a +pearl brooch. She was in simple white from top to toe.</p> + +<p>"How late you are, Hilda," said Aunt Marjorie. "I was getting quite +nervous. You know I hate to be alone in the drawing room when our +visitors come; and really, my love, what a simple dress—nothing but a +washing muslin. Did not you hear your father say that the Dean and Mrs. +Sparks were coming to dinner to-night?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I did, Aunt Marjorie. The cook also knows that the Dean is +coming to dine. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span>Now don't fret, there's a dear. I look nice, don't I? +that's the main thing."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Hilda, you look beautiful," said Aunt Marjorie solemnly; "but +after all, when you have a new pink chiffon and—and——"</p> + +<p>"Hush, auntie dear, I see the Dean stepping out of his brougham."</p> + +<p>The other guests followed the Dean and Mrs. Sparks almost immediately. +Dinner was announced, and the party withdrew to the dining room.</p> + +<p>Hilda, in her white dress with her happy sunshiny face, was the +principal object of attraction at this dinner. There were two or three +young men present, and they looked at her a good deal. Jasper Quentyns +favored her with one quick glance; he was sitting at the far end of the +table, and a very pretty girl was placed at his side. He saw the rose in +Hilda's hair, and his heart beat quickly; his spirits rose several +degrees, and he became so delightful and communicative to his neighbor +that she thought him quite the pleasantest and handsomest man she had +ever met.</p> + +<p>Quentyns did not glance again at Hilda. He was satisfied, for he felt +pretty sure that a certain question which he meant to ask would be +answered in the way he wished.</p> + +<p>The dinner came to an end, and the ladies <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span>withdrew into the drawing +room. Two little figures in white dresses were waiting to receive them. +Babs trotted everywhere, and was universally admired, petted, and +praised. Judy stood in the shadow behind one of the curtains and watched +Hilda.</p> + +<p>"Come out, Judy, and be sociable," said her sister.</p> + +<p>"I don't want to talk. I am so happy here, Hilda," she replied.</p> + +<p>"I do like spiders when they are very, very fat," sounded Babs' voice +across the room.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you droll little creature!" exclaimed a lady who sat near; "why, I +should fly from a spider any distance."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you like earwigs better," said Babs.</p> + +<p>"Earwigs, they are horrors; oh, you quaint, quaint little soul."</p> + +<p>Babs did not care to be called a quaint little soul. She trotted across +the room and stood by Judy's side.</p> + +<p>"There's nobody at all funny here," she said in a whisper. "I wish I had +my Kitty Tiddliwinks to play with; I don't care for fine ladies."</p> + +<p>"It is time for you to go to bed, Babs," said Judy.</p> + +<p>"No, it isn't. I am not going before you go. You always talk as if I +were a baby, and I aren't. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span>Judy, you might tell me now what it is to be +engaged to be married."</p> + +<p>"No, I can't tell you now," said Judy; "the gentlemen are coming in, and +we mustn't talk and interrupt. If you won't go to bed you must stay +quiet. You know if Aunt Marjorie sees you she'll send you off at once; +now they are going to sing; ah, that'll be jolly. You stay quiet, Babs, +and listen."</p> + +<p>Four young men surrounded the piano. Jasper Quentyns was one; Hilda +played the accompaniment. The four voices did ample justice to the +beautiful glee—"Men were deceivers ever." The well-known words were +applauded vigorously, the applause rose to an encore. Judy listened as +if fascinated.</p> + +<div class="block"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="ix">"Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Men were deceivers ever;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One foot in sea and one on shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To one thing constant never.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Then sigh not so,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">But let them go ..."<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p>"Yes, that's the right thing to do," said Judy, turning round and fixing +her bright eyes on Babs.</p> + +<p>"How funny you look," said Babs; "<em>you</em> ought to go to bed."</p> + +<p>"Come, Barbara, what is this about?" said <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span>Aunt Marjorie's voice. "You +up still—what can Miss Mills be thinking of? Now, little girls, it is +nine o'clock, and you must both go away. Good-night, Babs dear; +good-night, Judy."</p> + +<p>"Mayn't I say good-night to Hilda?" whispered Judy.</p> + +<p>"No, she's busy; run away this moment. Judy, if you question me I shall +have to appeal to your father. Now, my loves, go."</p> + +<p>The little girls left the room, Babs complacently enough, Judy +unwillingly. Babs was sleepy, and was very glad to lay her little head +on her white pillow; but sleep was very far away from Judy's eyes.</p> + +<p>The little girls' bedroom was over a portion of the drawing room. They +could hear the waves of the music and the light conversation and the gay +laughter as they lay in their cots. The sounds soon mingled with Babs' +dreams, but Judy felt more restless and less sleepy each moment.</p> + +<p>Miss Mills had entire care of the children. She dressed them and +undressed them as well as taught them. She had left them now for the +night. Miss Mills at this moment was writing an indignant letter in +reply to the one which had so excited her feelings this morning. Her +schoolroom was far away. Judy knew that she <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span>was safe. If she got out of +bed, no one would hear her. In her little white night-dress she stole +across the moonlit floor and crept up to the window. She softly +unfastened the hasp and flung the window open. She could see down into +the garden, and could almost hear the words spoken in the drawing room. +Two figures had stepped out of the conservatory and side by side were +walking across the silvered lawn.</p> + +<p>Judy's heart beat with great thumps—one of these people was her sister +Hilda, the other was Jasper Quentyns. They walked side by side, keeping +close to one another. Their movements were very slow, they were talking +almost in whispers. Hilda's head only reached to Jasper's shoulder; he +was bending down over her. Presently he took her hand. Judy felt as if +she should scream.</p> + +<p>"He's a horrid, horrid, wicked man," she said under her breath; "he's a +deceiver. 'Men were deceivers ever.' I know what he is. Oh, what shall I +do? what shall I do? Oh, Hilda, oh, Hilda, darling, you shan't go +through the misery of being engaged and then being married. Oh, oh, what +shall I do to save you, Hilda?"</p> + +<p>Quentyns and Hilda were standing still. They had moved out of the line +of light which <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span>streamed from the drawing room, and were standing under +the shadow of a great beech tree. Judy felt that she could almost hear +their words. From where she leant out of the window she could certainly +see their actions. Quentyns stooped suddenly and kissed Hilda on her +forehead; Hilda looked up at him and laid both her hands in his. He +folded them in a firm pressure, and again stooping, kissed her twice.</p> + +<p>Upstairs in the nursery, misery was filling one little heart to the +brim. A sob caught Judy's breath—she felt as if she should choke. She +dared not look any more, but drawing down the blind, crept back into bed +and covered her head with the bed-clothes.</p> + +<p>In the drawing room the guests stopped on, and never missed the two who +had stolen away across the moonlit lawn. One girl, it is true, might +have been noticed to cast some anxious glances toward the open window, +and the companion who talked to her could not help observing that she +scarcely replied to his remarks, and was not fully alive to his +witticisms; but the rest of the little world jogged on its way merrily +enough, unconscious of the Paradise which was so close to them in the +Rectory garden, and of the Purgatory which one little soul was enduring +upstairs.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span>"Hilda," said Quentyns, when they had stood for some time under the +beech tree, and had said many things each to the other, and felt a great +deal more than could ever be put into words. "Hilda," said Quentyns, and +all the poetry of the lovely summer evening seemed to have got into his +eyes and filled his voice, "I give you all, remember, all that a man can +give. I give you the love of my entire heart. My present is yours, my +future is to be yours. I live for you, Hilda—I shall always live for +you. Think what that means."</p> + +<p>"I can quite understand it," replied Hilda, "for I also live for you. I +am yours, Jasper, for now and always."</p> + +<p>"And I am a very jealous man," said Quentyns. "When I give all, I like +to get all."</p> + +<p>Hilda laughed.</p> + +<p>"How solemnly you speak," she said, stepping back a pace, and an almost +imperceptible jar coming into her voice. Then she came close again. "The +fault you will have to find with me is this, Jasper," she said, looking +fully at him with her sweet eyes; "I shall love you, if anything, too +well. No one can ever come between us, unless it is dear little Judy."</p> + +<p>"Judy! Don't you think you make too much <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span>fuss about that child? She is +such a morbid little piece of humanity."</p> + +<p>"Not a bit of it. You don't quite understand her. She and I are much +more than ordinary sisters to each other. I feel as if I were in a +certain sense Judy's mother. When mother died she left Judy to me. +Little darling! No one ever had a more faithful or a nobler heart. You +must get fond of her too, for my sake; won't you, Jasper?"</p> + +<p>"I'll do anything for your sake, you know that, Hilda. But don't let us +talk of Judy any more just now—let us——"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Quentyns, is that your voice I hear?" called Aunt Marjorie, from +the drawing room. "And, Hilda, ought you to be out with the dew falling +so heavily?"</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> +<a name="changes" id="changes"></a>CHAPTER IV.<br /> + +<small>CHANGES.</small></h2> + +<div class="block"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sing on! we sing in the glorious weather<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till one steps over the tiny strand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So narrow in sooth, that still together<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On either brink we go hand in hand.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The beck grows wider, the hands must sever,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On either margin our songs all done;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We move apart, while she singeth ever,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Taking the course of the stooping sun.<br /></span></div></div> +<p class="right smcap">—Jean Ingelow.</p> +</div> + + +<p>About a week after Hilda Merton's engagement, just when her friends were +full of the event, and congratulations began to pour in on all sides, +there came a very unexpected blow to the inmates of the peaceful and +pretty Rectory.</p> + +<p>The parish of Little Staunton was large and scattered; it stretched away +at one side down to the sea, at another it communicated with great open +moors and tracts of the outlying lands of the New Forest. It was but +sparsely peopled, and those parishioners who lived in small cottages by +the sea, and who earned their living as fishermen, were most of them +very poor. Mr. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span>Merton, however, was one of the ideal sort of rectors, +who helped his flock with temporal as well as spiritual benefits. The +stipend which he received from the church was not a large one, and every +penny of it was devoted to the necessities of his poor parishioners.</p> + +<p>There came an awful morning, therefore, when a short announcement in the +local paper, and a long letter from Mr. Merton's lawyer, acquainted him +with the fact that the Downshire County Bank had stopped payment. In +plain language, Mr. Merton, from being a wealthy man, became suddenly a +very poor one.</p> + +<p>Aunt Marjorie cried when she heard the news; Hilda's face turned very +pale, and Judy and Babs, who were both in the room at the time, felt +that sort of wonder and perplexity which children do experience when +they know something is dreadfully wrong, but cannot in the least +understand what it is.</p> + +<p>In the course of the morning Hilda went to her father in his study.</p> + +<p>Her face was very white as she opened the door, some of the young soft +lines of her early youth seemed to have left it; her beautiful brown +eyes looked in a heavy sort of fashion out at the world from their dark +surroundings. She came up to her father, and put her hand on his +shoulder. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span>He was bending over his desk, busily writing.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter, Hilda?" he asked, glancing up at her with a quick +start, and an endeavor to make his voice sound as usual.</p> + +<p>"I—I have come, father, to say that if you like, I—I will give up my +engagement to Jasper Quentyns."</p> + +<p>Mr. Merton rose from his seat and put his arm round her neck.</p> + +<p>"My dear child," he said, "it is my comfort to-day to know that you, at +least, are provided for. Quentyns is fairly well off. If he will take +you without any fortune, there is certainly no reason why you should not +go to him."</p> + +<p>"Money can't make any difference to Jasper," said Hilda, just a little +proudly, although her lips trembled; "but I—it seems wrong that I +should be so happy when the rest of you are so miserable."</p> + +<p>"Tut, tut!" said the Rector. "I shall get over this in time. I own that +just now the blow is so severe that I can scarcely quite realize it. +When I opened my eyes this morning, I was pleasantly conscious that I +was the possessor of a private income of quite two thousand a year; I +felt this fact in the comforts that surrounded me, and the ease which +filled my life. Except that small stipend <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span>which is represented by my +living, and which I have always hitherto devoted to the poor of the +flock, I am now reduced to nothing a year. My poor must divide my money +with me in future, that is all; I don't intend to be miserable when I +get accustomed to the change, Hilda. I must dismiss most of the +servants, and give up the carriage and horses, and live as a poor man +instead of a rich one; but I owe no man anything, my dear, and I have +not the least doubt there is a certain zest in poverty which will make +the new order of things agreeable enough when once I get used to it."</p> + +<p>The tears gathered slowly in Hilda's eyes.</p> + +<p>"I don't feel as if I could quite bear it," she said, with a sob.</p> + +<p>The Rector, who was always rather absent-minded, and had a dreamy way of +looking far ahead even when he was most roused, scarcely noticed Hilda's +tears. He talked on in a monotonous sort of voice:</p> + +<p>"I have not the least doubt that poverty has its alleviations. I have +heard it more than once remarked that the hand-to-mouth existence is the +most stimulating in the world. I should not be surprised, Hilda, if my +sermons took a turn for the better after this visitation. I have +preached to my flock, year in, year out, that the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span>mysterious ways of +Providence are undoubtedly the best—I have got to act up to my +preaching now, that is all."</p> + +<p>The Rector sat down again and continued to write a very unbusiness-like +letter to his lawyer; Hilda stood and looked at him with a frown between +her brows, and then went slowly out of the room.</p> + +<p>Aunt Marjorie, who had cried herself nearly sick, and whose eyes between +their swollen lids were scarcely visible, came to meet her as she walked +across the hall.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my darling," she said, with a fresh sob, "how can I bear to look at +you when I think of all your young life blighted in a moment! Oh, those +wicked Bank Directors. They deserve hanging! yes, I should hang them one +and all. And so you have been with my poor brother? I would not venture +near him. How is he taking it, Hilda? Is he quite off his head, poor, +dear man?"</p> + +<p>"How do you think my father would take a blow of this kind?" said Hilda. +"Come into the drawing room, Auntie. Oh, Auntie dear, do try to stop +crying. You don't know what father is. Of course I can't pretend to +understand him, but he is quite noble—he is splendid; he makes me +believe in religion. A man must <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span>be very, very good to talk as father +has just done."</p> + +<p>"Poor Samuel!" said Aunt Marjorie. "I knew that he would take this blow +either as a saint or as an idiot—I don't know which is the most trying. +You see, Hilda, my love, your father has never had anything to do with +the petty details of housekeeping. This parish brings in exactly three +hundred and fifty pounds a year; how are we to pay the wages of nine +servants, and how are the gardeners to be paid, and the little girls' +governess, and—and how is this beautiful house to be kept up on a +pittance of that sort? Oh, dear; oh, dear! Your father will just say to +me, 'I know, Marjorie, that you will do your best,' and then he'll +forget that there is such a thing as money; but I shall never be able to +forget it, Hilda. Oh, dear; oh, dear! I do think saintly men are awful +trials."</p> + +<p>"But you said just now you thought he would be off his head. You ought +to be very thankful, Aunt Maggie, that he is taking things as he is. Of +course the servants must go away, and the establishment must be put on +an altogether new footing. You'll have to walk instead of ride in +future, but I don't suppose Judy and Babs will much care, and I——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," said Aunt Marjorie, "you will be <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span>in your new house in +London, new-fangled with your position, and highly pleased and proud to +put Mrs. before your name, and you'll forget all about us. Of course I +am pleased for you, but you're just as bad as your father when you talk +in that cool fashion about dismissing the servants, and when you expect +an old lady like me to tramp all over the place on my feet."</p> + +<p>"I told father that if he wished I would break off my engagement."</p> + +<p>Aunt Marjorie dried her eyes when her niece made this speech, and looked +at her fixedly.</p> + +<p>"I do think," she said, "that you're a greater fool even than poor +Samuel. Is not your engagement to a nice, gentlemanly, clever man like +Jasper Quentyns the one ray of brightness in this desolate day? You, +child, at least are provided for."</p> + +<p>"I wonder if you think that I care about being provided for at this +juncture?" answered Hilda, knitting her brows once again in angry +perplexity.</p> + +<p>She went away to her own room, and sitting before her desk, wrote a long +letter to her lover.</p> + +<p>Quentyns had been called to the Bar, and was already beginning to +receive "briefs."</p> + +<p>His income was by no means large, however, and although he undoubtedly +loved Hilda for her <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span>own sake, he might not have proposed an immediate +marriage had he not believed that his pretty bride would not come to him +penniless.</p> + +<p>Hilda sat with her pen in her hand, looking down at the blank sheet of +paper.</p> + +<p>By the same post which had brought the lawyer's dreadful letter there +had come two closely-written sheets from Jasper. He wanted Hilda to +marry him in the autumn, and he had already begun house-hunting.</p> + +<p>"We might find it best to take a small flat for a year," he had written, +"but if you would rather have a house, darling, say so. Some people +don't approve of flats. They say they are not so wholesome. One misses +the air of the staircase, and there is a certain monotony in living +altogether on one floor which may not be quite conducive to health. On +the other hand flats are compact, and one knows almost at a glance what +one's expenses are likely to be. I have been consulting Rivers—you know +how often I have talked to you of my friend Archie Rivers—and he thinks +on the whole that a flat would be advisable; we avoid rates and taxes +and all those sort of worries, and if we like to shut up house for a +week, and run down to the Rectory, why there we are, you know; for the +house-porter sees to our rooms, and we run no risk from <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span>burglars. But +what do you say yourself, darling, for that is the main point?"</p> + +<p>Hilda had read this letter with a beating heart and a certain pleasant +sense of exhilaration at breakfast that morning, but then this was +before the blow came—before Aunt Marjorie's shriek had sounded through +the room, and before Hilda had caught a glimpse of her father's face +with the gray tint spreading all over it, before she had heard his +tremulous words:</p> + +<p>"Yes, Marjorie! God help us! We are ruined."</p> + +<p>Hilda read the letter now with very different feelings; somehow or other +all the rose light had gone out of it. She was a very inexperienced girl +as far as money matters were concerned. Until to-day money seemed to +have little part or lot in her life; it had never stirred her nature to +its depths, it had kindly supplied her with necessities and luxuries; it +had gilded everything, but she had never known where the gilt came from. +When she engaged herself to Jasper, he told her that, for the present at +least, he was a comparatively poor man; he had three hundred a year of +his own. This he assured her was a mere bagatelle, but as he was almost +certain to earn as much more in his profession, and as Hilda had money, +he thought they might marry if she did <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span>not mind living very prudently. +Of course Hilda did not mind—she knew nothing at all of the money part. +The whole thing meant love and poetry to her, and she disliked the word +money coming into it.</p> + +<p>To-day, however, things looked different. For the first time she got a +glimpse of Tragedy. How mean of it, how horrible of it to come in this +guise! She pressed her hand to her forehead, and wondered what her lover +could mean when he talked of rates and taxes, and asked her to decide +between a flat and a house.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what to say," she murmured to herself. "Perhaps we shall +not be married at all at present. Perhaps Jasper will say we can't +afford it. Perhaps I ought to answer his question about the flat—but I +don't know what to say. I thought we might have had a cottage somewhere +in one of the suburbs—with a little garden, and that I might have kept +fowls, and have had heaps and heaps of flowers. Surely fowls would be +economical, but I am sure I can't say. I really don't know anything +whatever about the matter."</p> + +<p>"Why are you talking in that funny way half-aloud to yourself, Hilda?" +asked a little voice with a sad inflection in it.</p> + +<p>Hilda slightly turned her head and saw that <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span>Judy had softly opened the +door of her bedroom, and was standing in the entrance.</p> + +<p>Judy had an uncertain manner about her which was rather new to her +character, and her face had a somewhat haggard look, unnatural and not +pleasant to see in so young a child.</p> + +<p>"Oh, pet, is that you?" said Hilda. "Come and give me a kiss—I am just +longing for you—you're the person of all others to consult. Come along +and sit down by me. Now, now—you don't want to strangle me, do you?"</p> + +<p>For Judy had rushed upon her sister like a little whirlwind, her strong +childish arms were flung with almost ferocious tightness round Hilda's +neck, the skirt of her short frock had swept Jasper's letter to the +floor, and even upset an ink-pot in its voluminous sweep.</p> + +<p>"Oh, oh!" said Hilda, "I must wipe up this mess. There, Judy, keep back +for a moment; it will get upon the carpet, and spoil it if we are not as +quick as possible. Hand me that sheet of blotting-paper, dear. There +now, that is better—I have stopped the stream from descending too far. +Why, Judith, my dear, you have tears in your eyes. You don't suppose I +care about the ink being spilt when I get a hug like that from you."</p> + +<p>"I wasn't crying about the ink," said Judy; <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span>"what's ink! The tears came +because I am so joyful."</p> + +<p>"You joyful? and to-day?" said Hilda. "You know what has happened, don't +you, Judy?"</p> + +<p>"We are poor instead of rich," said Judy; "what's that? Oh, I am so +happy—I am so awfully happy that I scarcely know what to do."</p> + +<p>"What a queer little soul you are! Now, now, am I to be swept up in +another embrace?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, let me, let me—I haven't kissed you like this since you, +you—you got <em>engaged</em>."</p> + +<p>"In what a spiteful way you say that last word, Judy; now I come to +think of it, we <em>have</em> scarcely kissed each other since. But whose fault +was that? Not mine, I am sure. I was quite hungry for one of your +kisses, jewel, and now that I have got it I feel ever so much better. +Sit down by me, and let us talk. Judy, you are a very wise little +darling, aren't you?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. If you think so, you darling, I suppose I am."</p> + +<p>"I do think so. I have had a letter from Jasper. I want to talk over +something he says in it with you. Judy dear, he is such a noble fellow."</p> + +<p>Judy shut up her firm lips until they looked like a straight line across +her face.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span>"He's such a noble fellow," repeated Hilda. "I can't tell you how glad +you ought to be to have the prospect of calling a man like Jasper your +brother; he'll be a great help to you, Judy, by and by."</p> + +<p>"No, he won't—I don't want him to be," said Judy viciously.</p> + +<p>"Why, I declare, I do believe the dear is jealous; but now to go on. +Jasper has written to me on a most important subject. Now, if I consult +you about it you won't ever, ever tell, will you?"</p> + +<p>"No, of course I won't. Was it about that you were muttering to yourself +when I came into the room?"</p> + +<p>"You funny puss; yes, I was talking the matter over to myself. Jasper is +looking out for a house for us."</p> + +<p>"He isn't. It's awfully cheeky of him."</p> + +<p>"My dear Judy, it would be much more cheeky to ask me to go and live in +the street with him. We must have some residence after we are +married—mustn't we? Well, darling, now you must listen very +attentively; he has asked me whether it would be best for us to live in +a little house of our own——"</p> + +<p>"Why a little house? he ought to take you to a palace."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span>"Don't interrupt; we shall be poor people, quite a poor couple, Jasper +and I. Now, Judy, just try and get as wise as a Solon. He wants to know +whether I would rather live in a little house or a flat."</p> + +<p>"What's a flat, Hilda?"</p> + +<p>"I don't quite know myself; but I believe a flat consists of several +rooms on one floor shut away from the rest of the house by a separate +hall door. Jasper rather approves of a flat, because he says there won't +be any rates and taxes. It's very silly, but though I am a grown-up +girl, I don't exactly know what rates and taxes are—do you?"</p> + +<p>"No, but I can ask Miss Mills."</p> + +<p>"I don't expect she'd know anything about them; it seems so stupid to +have to write back and tell Jasper that I don't understand what he +means."</p> + +<p>"Aunt Marjorie would know," said Judy.</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't like to consult her, pet. I think I'd better leave it to +Jasper to decide."</p> + +<p>Judy looked very wise and interested now.</p> + +<p>"Why don't you say you'd rather go into a little house?" she said; "it +sounds much more interesting. A flat is an ugly name, and I am quite +sure it must be an ugly place."</p> + +<p>"That is true," said Hilda, pausing and looking <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span>straight before her +with her pretty brows knit. "Oh, dear, oh, dear! I wonder what is right. +And a little house might have a garden too, mightn't it, Judy?"</p> + +<p>"Of course, and a fowl-house and a cote for your pigeons."</p> + +<p>"To be sure; and when you come to see me, you should have a strip of +garden to dig in all for yourself."</p> + +<p>"Oh, should I really come to see you, Hilda? Miss Mills said that you +wouldn't want me—that you wouldn't be bothered with me."</p> + +<p>"That I wouldn't be bothered with you? Why, I shall wish to have you +with me quite half the time. Now, now, am I to be strangled again? +Please, Judy, abstain from embracing, and tell me whether we are to have +a flat or a cottage."</p> + +<p>"Of course you are to have a cottage, with the garden and the +fowl-house."</p> + +<p>"I declare I think I'll take your advice, you little dear. I'll write +and tell Jasper that I'd much rather have a cottage. Now, who is that +knocking at the door? Run, Judy, and see what's wanted."</p> + +<p>Judy returned in a moment with a telegram.</p> + +<p>Hilda tore it open with fingers that slightly trembled.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span>"Oh, how joyful, how joyful!" she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" asked Judy.</p> + +<p>"Jasper is coming—my dear, dear Jasper. See what he says—'Have heard +the bad news—my deepest sympathy—expect me this evening.' Then I +needn't write after all. Judy, Judy, I agree with you; I feel quite +happy, even though it is the dreadful day when the blow has been +struck."</p> + +<p>Judy did not say anything, she rose languidly to her feet.</p> + +<p>"Where are you going?" asked Hilda.</p> + +<p>"For a walk."</p> + +<p>"Why so?"</p> + +<p>"Miss Mills said that even though we were poor I was to take the fresh +air," replied the child in a prim little voice, out of which all the +spirit had gone.</p> + +<p>She kissed Hilda, but no longer in a rapturous, tempestuous fashion, and +walked soberly out of the room.</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> +<a name="garden" id="garden"></a>CHAPTER V.<br /> + +<small>IN A GARDEN.</small></h2> + +<div class="block2"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I go like one in a dream, unbidden my feet know the way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To that garden where love stood in blossom with the red and white hawthorn of May.<br /></span></div></div> +<p class="right smcap">—Mathilde Blind.</p> +</div> + + +<p>Aunt Marjorie had cried until she could cry no longer. Hers was a +slighter nature than either Mr. Merton's or Hilda's. In consequence, +perhaps, she was able to realize the blow which had come upon them more +vividly and more quickly than either her brother or niece.</p> + +<p>Aunt Marjorie had taken a great pride in the pretty, well-ordered house. +She was a capable, a kind, and a considerate mistress. Her servants +worked well under her guidance. She was set in authority over them; they +liked her rule, and acknowledged it with cheerful and willing service.</p> + +<p>No one could give such perfect little dinner-parties as Aunt Marjorie. +She had a knack of finding out each of her guests' particular weaknesses +with regard to the dinner-table. She was no diplomatist, and her +conversation was considered <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span>prosy; but with Mr. Merton to act the +perfect host and to lead the conversation into the newest intellectual +channels, with Hilda to look sweet and gracious and beautiful, and with +Aunt Marjorie to provide the dinner, nothing could have been a greater +success than the little party which took place on an average once a week +at the sociable Rectory.</p> + +<p>Now all these things were at an end. The servants must go; the large +house—which had been added to from time to time by the Rector until it +had lost all similitude to the ordinary small and cozy Rectory—the +great house must remain either partly shut up or only half cleaned. +There must be no more dinner-parties, and no nice carriage for Aunt +Marjorie to return calls in. The vineries and conservatories must remain +unheated during the winter; the gardeners must depart. Weeds must grow +instead of flowers.</p> + +<p>Alack, and alas! Aunt Marjorie felt like a shipwrecked mariner, as she +sat now in the lovely drawing room and looked out over the summer scene.</p> + +<p>With her mind's eye she was gazing at something totally different—she +was seeing the beautiful place as it would look in six months' time; she +saw with disgust the rank and obnoxious <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span>weeds, the empty grate, the +dust-covered ornaments.</p> + +<p>"It is worse for us than it would be for ordinary people," she said half +aloud. "If we were just ordinary people, we could leave here and go into +a tiny cottage where our surroundings would be in keeping with our +means; but of course the Rector must live in the Rectory—at least I +suppose so. Dear, dear! how sudden this visitation has been—truly may +it be said that 'all flesh is grass.'"</p> + +<p>Aunt Marjorie had a way of quoting sentences which did not at all apply +to the occasion; these quotations always pleased her, however, and a +slow smile now played round her lips.</p> + +<p>The drawing-room door was opened noisily, and a fat little figure rushed +across the room and sprang into her arms.</p> + +<p>"Is that you, Babs?" she said. She cuddled the child in a close embrace, +and kissed her smooth, cool cheek many times.</p> + +<p>"Yes, of course it's me," said Babs, in her matter-of-fact voice. "Your +eyes are quite red, Auntie. Have you been crying?"</p> + +<p>"We have had dreadful trouble, my darling—poor Auntie feels very +miserable—it is about father. Your dear father has lost all his money, +my child."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span>"Miss Mills told me that half an hour ago," said Babs; "that's why I +wanted to see you, Auntie. I has got half a sovereign in the Savings +Bank. I'll give it to father if he wants it."</p> + +<p>"You're a little darling," said Aunt Marjorie, kissing her again.</p> + +<p>"There's Judy going across the garden," said Babs. "Look at her, she has +her shoulders hunched up to her ears. She's not a bit of good; she won't +play with me nor nothing."</p> + +<p>"That child doesn't look at all well," said Aunt Marjorie.</p> + +<p>She started to her feet, putting Babs on the floor. A new anxiety and a +new interest absorbed her mind.</p> + +<p>"Judy, Judy," she called; "come here, child. I have noticed for the last +week," she said, speaking her thoughts aloud, "that Judy has black lines +under her eyes, and a dragged sort of look about her. What can it mean?"</p> + +<p>"She cries such a lot," said Babs in her untroubled voice. "I hear her +when she's in bed at night. I thought she had she-cups, but it wasn't, +it was sobs."</p> + +<p>"<em>She-cups</em>—what do you mean, child? Judy, come here, darling."</p> + +<p>"She-cups," repeated Babs. "Some people <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span>call them he-cups; but I don't +when a girl has them."</p> + +<p>Judy came slowly up to the window.</p> + +<p>"Where were you going, my pet?" asked Aunt Marjorie.</p> + +<p>"Only for a walk," she answered.</p> + +<p>"A walk all by yourself? How pale you are, dearie. Have you a headache?"</p> + +<p>"No, Auntie."</p> + +<p>Aunt Marjorie pulled Judy forward. She felt her forehead and looked at +her tongue, and put her in such a position that she could gaze down into +her throat.</p> + +<p>Not being able to detect anything the matter, she thought it best to +scold her niece a little.</p> + +<p>"Little girls oughtn't to walk slowly and to be dismal," she said. "It +is very wrong and ungrateful of them. They ought to run about and skip +and laugh. Work while you work, and play while you play. That was the +motto when I was a little girl. Now, Judy, love, go out with Babs and +have a good romp. You had better both of you go to the hay-field, for it +might distract your poor father to hear your two merry voices. Run, my +dears, run; make yourselves scarce."</p> + +<p>"Come, Babs," said Judy. She held out her <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span>hand to her little sister, +and the two went away together.</p> + +<p>"Do you know, Judy," said Babs, the moment they were out of Aunt +Marjorie's hearing, "that I saw a quarter of an hour ago a great big +spider in the garden catching a wasp. He rolled the poor wasp round and +round with his web until he made him into a ball."</p> + +<p>"And did you leave that poor wasp to die?" asked Judy, keen interest and +keen anger coming into her voice.</p> + +<p>"No, I didn't," said Babs. "I took him away from the spider. I wouldn't +be kite so cruel as to let the poor thing die; but I s'pect he'll die +all the same, for he can't get out of the ball that he's in."</p> + +<p>"Poor darling!" said Judy. "Let's go and find him and try to get the web +off him. Do you know where he is, Babs?"</p> + +<p>"I put him on an ivy leaf on the ground," said Babs, "under the yew-tree +down there. I can find him in a minute."</p> + +<p>"Well, let's go and save him as quickly as possible."</p> + +<p>The two children rushed with eagerness and vigor down the slops.</p> + +<p>Aunt Marjorie could see them as they disappeared out of sight.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span>She turned to weep and bewail herself once more, and Judy and Babs +began industriously to look for the wasp.</p> + +<p>They were busily engaged on their hands and knees searching all over the +ground for the identical ivy leaf where Babs had placed the rescued +insect, when a voice sounded in their ears, and Judy raised her head to +see pretty Mildred Anstruther standing by her side.</p> + +<p>Mildred was one of the belles of the county; her hair was as bright as a +sunbeam, her eyes as blue as a summer sky, her full lips were red, her +cheeks had the bloom of the peach upon them. Mildred was a well-grown +girl, with a largely and yet gracefully developed figure.</p> + +<p>In addition to her personal charms she had a considerable fortune. It +went without saying, therefore, that she was greatly admired.</p> + +<p>Mildred had often been the talk of Little Staunton; her numerous +flirtations had caused head-shakings and dismal croaks from many of the +old maids of the neighborhood. The sterner sex had owned to +heart-burnings in connection with her, for Mildred could flirt and +receive any amount of attention without giving her heart in return. She +was wont to laugh at love affairs, and had often told Hilda that the +prince to <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span>whom alone she would give her affections was scarcely likely +to appear.</p> + +<p>"The time when gods used to walk upon the earth is over, my dear Hilda," +she used to say. "When I find the perfect man, I will marry him, but not +before."</p> + +<p>Mildred, who was twenty-six years of age, had therefore the youngest and +smoothest of faces; care had never touched her life, and wrinkles were +unlikely to visit her.</p> + +<p>For some reason, however, she looked careworn now, and Judy, with a +child's quick perception, noticed it.</p> + +<p>She was fond of Mildred, and she put up her lips for a kiss.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter, Milly?" she asked; "have you a cold?"</p> + +<p>"No, my love; on principle I never allow myself to have anything so +silly; but I am shocked, Judy—shocked at what I have read in the +morning papers."</p> + +<p>"Oh, about our money," replied Judy in an unconcerned voice. "Have you +found that wasp, Babs? Are you looking on <em>all</em> the ivy leaves?"</p> + +<p>"I picked an ivy leaf, and put it down just here," replied Babs, "and I +put the wasp in it <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span>most carefully; the wind must have caught it and +blown it away."</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear; oh, dear! the poor creature, what will become of it?" +answered Judy. She was down on her hands and knees again, poking and +examining, but poking and examining in vain.</p> + +<p>"It's very rude of you, Judy, not to pay me the least attention," said +Mildred. "I have come over on purpose to see you, and there you are +squatting on the ground, pushing all that rubbish about. You have no +manners, and I'll tell Hilda so; and, Babs, what are you about not to +give me a hug?"</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 415px;"> +<img src="images/i001.jpg" width="415" height="600" alt=""I HAVE COME ON PURPOSE TO SEE YOU, JUDY." P. 60." title="" /> +<span class="caption">"i have come on purpose to see you, judy."</span> +</div> + +<p>Babs raised a somewhat grimy little face.</p> + +<p>"We can't find the poor wasp," she said. "He was rolled up in the +spider's web, and I put him on an ivy leaf, and now he's gone."</p> + +<p>"You had better go on looking for him, Babs," said Judy, "and I'll talk +to Milly." She rose as she spoke and placed her dirty little hand on +Miss Anstruther's arm. "So you heard about our money, Milly?" she said. +"Aunt Marjorie is in an awful state, she has cried and cried and cried; +but the rest of us don't care."</p> + +<p>"You don't care? Oh, you queer, queer people! You don't mean to tell me, +little Judy, that Hilda doesn't care?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span>"Hilda cares the least of all," replied Judy; "she has got Jasper."</p> + +<p>Judy's face clouded over as she spoke.</p> + +<p>"I wonder what <em>he'll</em> say to this business," remarked Miss Anstruther, +half to herself; "he's not at all well off—it ought to make a +tremendous difference to him."</p> + +<p>"He certainly isn't to be pitied," said Judy; "he's going to get Hilda."</p> + +<p>"And what about Hilda's money?" laughed Miss Anstruther. Her face wore +an expression which was almost disagreeable, her big blue eyes looked +dark as they gazed at the child.</p> + +<p>Judy's own little face turned pale. She didn't understand Miss +Anstruther, but something impelled her to say with great fierceness:</p> + +<p>"I hate Jasper!"</p> + +<p>Miss Anstruther stooped down and kissed her.</p> + +<p>"You are a queer, passionate little thing, Judy," she said, "but it's a +very good thing for Hilda to be engaged to a nice sensible fellow like +Jasper Quentyns, and of course it is more important now than ever for +her. He'll be disappointed, of course, but I dare say they can get along +somehow. Ah, there's Aunt Marjorie coming out of the house. I must run +and speak <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span>to her, poor dear; how troubled she looks! and no wonder."</p> + +<p>Mildred ran off, and Judy stood where she had left her, in the center of +the lawn, quivering all over.</p> + +<p>What did Milly mean by saying that Jasper would be disappointed—Jasper, +who was going to get Hilda—Hilda herself? What could anyone want more +than the sun? what could any man desire more than the queen of all +queens, the rose of all roses?</p> + +<p>Thoughts like these flitted through little Judy's mind in confused +fashion. Hilda was to be married to Jasper, and the Rectory of Little +Staunton would know her no more. That indeed was a sorrow to make +everyone turn sick and pale, but the loss of the money was not worth a +moment's consideration.</p> + +<p>Judy wandered about, too restless and unhappy to settle to her play. +Babs shouted in the distance that the wasp was not to be seen. Even the +fate of the poor wasp scarcely interested Judy at present. She was +watching for Mildred to reappear that she might join her in the avenue +and ask why she dared to say those words about Jasper.</p> + +<p>"Well, Judy," said Miss Anstruther by and by, "here I am, back at last. +I saw Aunt Marjorie, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span>but I didn't see the Rector, and I didn't see +Hilda. Aunt Marjorie tells me that Jasper Quentyns is coming down +to-night, so I suppose he's going to take everything all right."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, Milly?" asked Judy.</p> + +<p>"Why do you look at me in that fierce way, you small atom?" answered +Mildred, stopping in her walk and looking at the child with an amused +smile on her face.</p> + +<p>"Because I don't understand you," said Judy.</p> + +<p>"It is scarcely likely you should, my darling. Let me see, how old are +you—nine? Well, you'll know something of what I mean when you're +nineteen. Now I must go."</p> + +<p>"No, stop a bit, Milly. I don't understand you, but I hate hints. Miss +Mills hints things sometimes, and oh, how I detest her when she does! +and you're hinting now, and it is something against Hilda."</p> + +<p>"Against Hilda? Oh, good gracious, child, what an awful cram!"</p> + +<p>"It isn't a cram, it is true. I can't explain it, but I know you're +hinting something against darling Hilda. Why should you say that Jasper +will be disappointed? Isn't she going away with him some day? and aren't +they going to live in—in a horrid—a horrid <em>flat</em> together, and she +won't even have a garden, nor fowls, nor flowers? <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span>And you say Jasper +will be disappointed. Everything is going when Hilda goes, and you speak +as if Jasper wasn't the very luckiest person in all the wide world. <em>I</em> +know what it means; yes, I know. Oh, Milly, I'm so unhappy. Oh, Milly, +what <em>shall</em> I do when Hilda goes away?"</p> + +<p>Mildred was impulsive and kind-hearted, notwithstanding the very decided +fit of jealousy which was now over her. She put her arm round Judy and +tried to comfort her.</p> + +<p>"You poor little thing," she said, "you poor little jealous, miserable +mite. How could you think you were going to keep your Hilda always? +There, Judy, there, darling, I really am sorry for you—I really am, but +you know Hilda is pretty and sweet, and someone wants her to make +another home beautiful. There, I'll say something to comfort you—I'll +eat all the words I have already uttered, and tell you emphatically from +my heart of hearts that Hilda is too good for Jasper Quentyns."</p> + +<p>"Judy, Judy, Judy! I have found the wasp," shouted Babs.</p> + +<p>Judy dried her eyes hastily, kissed Mildred, and ran across the lawn to +her little sister.</p> + +<p>"What a queer child Judy Merton is," said Mildred to herself. "What +tempestuous little creatures some children are. How passionately <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span>she +spoke about Hilda, and now her whole heart and soul are devoted to the +rescuing of a miserable insect. Yes, of course Jasper is not good enough +for Hilda. He has plenty of faults, he is not the prince I have been +looking for, and yet—and yet——"</p> + +<p>Her heart beat quickly, the color rushed into her face, she felt her +firm lips tremble, and knew that her eyes were shining with unusual +brilliance. Someone was coming along the path to meet her. A man with +the sunlight shining all over him—an athletic figure, who walked with +the swift bounding step of youth. He was Jasper Quentyns.</p> + +<p>"Hullo!" he called, catching sight of her. "I was fortunate in getting +an earlier train than I had hoped for, and here I am two hours before I +was expected. How is Hilda? Have you been at the house? Are they all +fearfully cut up?"</p> + +<p>"How do you do, Mr. Quentyns?" replied Mildred. "Yes, I have been at the +house, and I have seen Judy and Aunt Marjorie. Judy seems to me to be in +a very excitable and feverish state of mind."</p> + +<p>"She's rather spoilt, isn't she?" said Quentyns.</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, she's Hilda's special darling, the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span>first in her heart by +many degrees—after—after somebody else."</p> + +<p>"But how could a child like Judy know anything about money loss?"</p> + +<p>"It isn't the money that's troubling her at the present moment, it's a +poor wasp. Now pray don't look so bewildered, and do try and forget +about Judy. Aunt Marjorie is taking her trouble in a thoroughly +practical and Aunt Marjorie style. I have not seen Hilda, nor have I +seen the Rector."</p> + +<p>"It will be an awful blow to them all," said Quentyns.</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied Miss Anstruther, looking him straight in the eyes, "an +awful blow. And you feel it far more than Hilda," she soliloquized, as +she walked back to her own home.</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> +<a name="wedding" id="wedding"></a>CHAPTER VI.<br /> + +<small>THE EVE OF THE WEDDING.</small></h2> + +<div class="block"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where shall I find a white rose blowing?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Out in the garden where all sweets be.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But out in my garden the snow was snowing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And never a white rose opened for me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Naught but snow and a wind were blowing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And snowing.<br /></span></div></div> +<p class="right smcap">—Christina G. Rossetti.</p> +</div> + + +<p>Notwithstanding Mildred Anstruther's inward prognostications, there came +no hitch to Hilda Merton's engagement. Quentyns behaved as the best and +most honorable of men. He was all that was tender and loving to Hilda, +and he immediately took that position toward Mr. Merton which a son +might have held. Quentyns was a good business man, and in the +catastrophe which overwhelmed the Rectory, he proved himself invaluable.</p> + +<p>On one point, however, he was very firm. His marriage with Hilda must +not be delayed. No persuasive speeches on her part, no longing looks out +of Judy's hungry eyes, no murmurs on the part of Aunt Marjorie, would +induce him to put off the time of the wedding by a single day.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span>He used great tact in this matter, for Quentyns was the soul of tact, +and it quite seemed to the family, and even to Hilda herself, that <em>she</em> +had suggested the eighth of January as the most suitable day in the +whole year for a wedding—it seemed to the whole family, and even to +Hilda herself, that <em>she</em> was the one who desired to go, whereas in her +heart of hearts, in that innermost heart which she scarcely ventured to +probe at all just now, she would have gladly shared Aunt Marjorie's +discomforts and sat by her father's side while he composed those sermons +which were to teach his flock, with a sure note of truth running through +them, that the blessed man is the man whom the Lord God chasteneth.</p> + +<p>The wedding-day was fixed, and notwithstanding poverty and its attendant +shadows, preparations for the great event went on merrily enough.</p> + +<p>A check for Hilda's trousseau was sent to her by a rich aunt in India, +and the pleasant excitement which even the quietest wedding always +causes began to pervade the Rectory.</p> + +<p>When the day was finally arranged, Aunt Marjorie ceased to murmur and +cry. She talked a great deal now of Hilda's coming responsibilities, and +spent all her leisure moments copying out receipts which she thought +might be useful <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span>to her niece in her new position as wife and +housekeeper.</p> + +<p>"You have never yet told me where you are going to live, Hilda," she +said, on the New Year's Day which preceded the wedding.</p> + +<p>"I am not quite sure myself," replied Hilda. "Jasper has seen a great +many suburban houses which he does not quite like, and a great many +flats which he considers absolutely perfect. He says there is no special +hurry about choosing a house, for after we have returned from our +wedding tour we are to stay with some of his relations in town, and +during that time we can make up our minds as to what kind of home we +will have."</p> + +<p>"Very prudent of Jasper," said Aunt Marjorie. "He really is an excellent +fellow—so wonderfully thoughtful for such a young man. Of course he has +far too much sense to think of selecting a house for you himself. As to +a flat, you will of course not dream of going into one—a house is +better in all respects, more airy and more interesting."</p> + +<p>"I should like a house best," said Hilda, "but Jasper, of course, is the +one really to decide."</p> + +<p>"Now, there you are wrong, my love. <em>You</em> are undoubtedly the right +person to make the final choice. I am old-fashioned in my ideas, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span>Hilda, +and I think the wife ought to be in subjection to her husband, for we +have Scripture for it, but I don't believe St. Paul meant that rule to +extend to domestic matters. In domestic matters the wife <em>ought</em> to have +the casting vote. Be sure, my dear Hilda, you don't yield to Jasper in +domestic affairs—you will rue it if you do—and be quite sure that in +selecting a house you have a wide entrance-hall, a spacious staircase, +and a large drawing room."</p> + +<p>"But, Auntie, such a house will be beyond our means."</p> + +<p>"Tut, tut, my love—the rent <em>may</em> be a few pounds more, but what of +that? A large entrance-hall is really essential; and as it is easier to +keep large rooms and wide staircases clean than small ones, your +servants will have less to do and you will save the extra rent in that +way. Now here is your great-grandmother's receipt for plum-pudding—two +dozen eggs, three pounds raisins, one pound citron. Hilda, I +particularly want to give you a hint about the <em>spice</em> for this pudding; +ah, and I must speak also about this white soup—it is simply made, and +at the same time delicious—the stock from two fowls—one pint single +cream—your father is particularly fond of it. Yes, Susan, what is the +matter?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span>"A parcel for Miss Hilda, ma'am," said the neat parlor-maid. "It has +come by 'Carter Patterson'; and will you put your name here, please, +Miss Hilda."</p> + +<p>Hilda signed her name obediently, and a square wooden box was brought +in. It was opened by Aunt Marjorie herself with great solemnity. Judy +and Babs came and looked on, and there were great expressions of rapture +when an exquisite afternoon tea-service of Crown Derby was exhibited to +view.</p> + +<p>Wedding presents were pouring in from all quarters. Hilda put this one +away with the others, and calmly continued her occupation of adding up +some parochial accounts for her father. She was a very careful +accountant, and had the makings in her of a good business woman when she +had gained a little experience.</p> + +<p>Aunt Marjorie sat and mumbled little disjointed remarks with regard to +her niece's future state and subjection. She gave her many hints as to +when she was to yield to her husband and when she was to firmly uphold +her own will.</p> + +<p>Had Hilda followed out Aunt Marjorie's precepts, or even been greatly +influenced by them, she and Jasper would have had a very unhappy future, +but she had a gentle and respectful way of listening to the old lady +without taking in a <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span>great deal that she said. Her thoughts were divided +now between Jasper and Judy. Her heart felt torn at the thought of +leaving her little sister, and she had an instinctive feeling, which she +had never yet put into words, that Judy and Jasper were antagonistic to +each other, and, what is more, would always remain so.</p> + +<p>Judy had seen the Crown Derby service unpacked, and then, in the sober +fashion which more or less characterized all her actions of late, she +left the room.</p> + +<p>She went up to the bedroom which she and Babs shared together, and +sitting down by the window, rested her chubby cheek against her hand.</p> + +<p>Babs was kneeling down in a distant corner, pulling a doll's bedstead to +pieces for the express purpose of putting it together again.</p> + +<p>"My doll Lily has been very naughty to-day," she said, "and I am going +to put her to bed. She wouldn't half say her lessons this morning, and +she deserves to be well punished. What are you thinking of, Judy, and +why do you pucker up your forehead? It makes you look so cross."</p> + +<p>"Never mind about my forehead. I have a lot of things to think of just +now. I can't be always laughing and talking like you."</p> + +<p>Babs paused in the act of putting a sheet on <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span>her doll's bed to gaze at +Judy with great intentness.</p> + +<p>"You might tell me what's the matter with you," she said, after a moment +of silence; "you are not a bit interesting lately; you're always +thinking and always frowning, unless at night when you are sobbing."</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't!" said Judy. "Don't you see what it is, Babs—can't you +guess?—it is only a week off now."</p> + +<p>"What's only a week off?"</p> + +<p>"Hilda's wedding. Oh, dear; oh, dear! I wish I were dead; I do wish I +were dead."</p> + +<p>Babs did not think this remark of poor Judy's worth replying to. She +gravely finished making her doll's bed, tucked Lily up comfortably, and +coming over to the window, knelt down, placed her elbows on the ledge, +and looked out at the snowy landscape.</p> + +<p>"Hasn't Hilda got lots and lots of presents?" she said, after a pause.</p> + +<p>"Yes. I don't want to see them, though."</p> + +<p>"Everyone is giving her a present," continued Babs, in her calm voice, +"even Miss Mills and the servants. Susan told me that the schoolchildren +were collecting money to buy her something, and—may I tell you a +'mendous big secret, Judy?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span>Judy ceased to frown, and looked at Babs with a faint dawning of +interest in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"I has got a present for her too," said Babs, beginning to dance about. +"I am not going to give it till the day of the wedding. I buyed it my +own self, and it's <em>quite</em> beautiful. What are you going to give her, +Judy?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing. I haven't any money."</p> + +<p>"I have half a sovereign in the Savings Bank, but I can't take it out +until after I am seven. I wish I could, for I could lend it to you to +give Hilda a wedding present."</p> + +<p>"I wish you could," said Judy. "I'd like awfully to give her something. +You might tell me what you have got, Babs."</p> + +<p>"It's some darning-cotton," said Babs in a whisper. "I buyed it last +week with twopence-halfpenny; you remember the day I went with Mrs. +Sutton to town. She said it was a very useful thing, for Hilda will want +to mend Jasper's socks, and if she hasn't darning-cotton handy maybe +he'll scold her."</p> + +<p>"He wouldn't dare to," said Judy, with a frown; "she <em>shan't</em> mend his +horrid socks. Why did you get such a nasty wedding present, Babs?"</p> + +<p>A flush of delicate color spread all over Babs' little fair face. She +winked her blue eyes hard <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span>to keep back the tears which Judy's scathing +remarks were bringing to the surface, and said, after a pause:</p> + +<p>"It's not a horrid present, it's lovely; and anyhow"—her voice becoming +energetic as this happy mode of revenge occurred to her—"it is better +than yours, for you has got nothing at all."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'll have something when the day comes," replied Judy, in a +would-be careless tone.</p> + +<p>"But you hasn't any money."</p> + +<p>"Money isn't everything. I'll manage, you'll see."</p> + +<p>From this moment Judy's whole heart and soul were absorbed in one fierce +desire to give Hilda a present which should be better and sweeter and +more full of love than anybody else's.</p> + +<p>After two or three days of anxious thought and nights of troubled +dreams, she made up her mind what her present should be. It should +consist of holly berries and ivy, and these holly berries and that ivy +should be picked by Judy's own fingers, and should be made into a +bouquet by Judy herself; and the very center of this bouquet should +contain a love-note—a little twisted note, into which Judy would pour +some of her <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span>soul. It should be given to Hilda at the very last moment +when she was starting for church; and though she was all in white from +top to toe—all in pure white, with a bouquet of white flowers in her +hand—yet she should carry Judy's bouquet, with its thorns and its +crimson berries, as a token of her little sister's faithful love.</p> + +<p>"She shall carry it to church with her," said Judy, with inward passion. +"I'll make her promise beforehand, and I know she won't break her word +to me. It will be a little bit of me she'll have with her, even when she +is giving herself to that horrid Jasper."</p> + +<p>The little girl quite cheered up when this idea came to her. She became +helpful and pleasant once more, and allowed Babs to chatter to her about +the insect world, which had now practically gone to sleep; and about the +delights of the time when their chrysalides, which they had put away so +carefully in the butterfly-case, should burst out into living and +beautiful things.</p> + +<p>The day before the wedding came, and the whole house was in pleasant +bustle and confusion. Nearly all the presents had arrived by this time. +The school children had come up to the Rectory in a body to present +Hilda with a very large and gaudily decorated photographic album; the +Rectory servants had given the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span>bride-elect a cuckoo-clock; Miss Mills +had blushed as she presented her with a birth-day book bound in white +vellum; "Carter Patterson's" people were tired of coming up the avenue +with box after box; and Aunt Marjorie was tired of counting on her +fingers the names of the different friends who were sure to remember +such an important event as Hilda Merton's wedding.</p> + +<p>But for Aunt Marjorie, Hilda would have given herself to Jasper in a +very quiet and unobtrusive fashion. But this idea of a wedding was such +intense grief to the old lady that Hilda and Jasper, rather against +their wills, abandoned it, and Hilda was content to screen her lovely +face behind a white veil, and to go to church decked as a bride should.</p> + +<p>"It is positively economical to get a proper wedding dress," said Aunt +Marjorie; "you'll want it for the parties you'll go to during your first +season in town, Hilda. Of course Lady Malvern, Jasper's aunt, will +present you, and the dress with a little alteration will do very well to +go to the Drawing Room in. I shall desire the dressmaker to make the +train quite half a yard extra, on purpose."</p> + +<p>Aunt Marjorie had her way, and was sufficiently happy in her present +life to forget the dull <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span>days which must follow, and to cease to think +of the deserted house when Hilda, and wealth, and luxury, went away.</p> + +<p>It was the evening before the wedding-day, when Babs came solemnly into +the room where her sister was sitting, and presented her with her +wedding gift.</p> + +<p>"It's darning-cotton," said Babs, in her gentle, full, satisfied +fashion. "Sutton said it would be useful, and that Jasper wouldn't scold +you if you had it handy."</p> + +<p>"What treason are you talking, Babs?" asked Quentyns, who was standing +by Hilda's side.</p> + +<p>He stooped down, and mounted her on his shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Sutton says that husbands always scold their wives," said Babs.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, child! Sutton doesn't speak the truth. I would far rather +scold myself than Hilda."</p> + +<p>"Well, at any rate here's the cotton. I spent all my money on it except +the ten shillings in the Savings Bank; and, Hilda, you <em>will</em> use it +when Jasper's socks get into holes."</p> + +<p>"Of course I will, you dear little darling," said Hilda. "I think it is +a perfectly sweet present. Give it to me; I was just packing my +work-basket, and in it shall go this minute. I'll <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span>think of you every +time I use a thread of this cotton, Babs."</p> + +<p>"Babs, Miss Mills says it is quite time for you to go to bed," said +Judy, who was standing at the back of Hilda's chair, softly touching her +bright head from time to time with the tips of her little fingers.</p> + +<p>Quentyns laughed when Judy spoke in her solemn voice.</p> + +<p>"And what about Judy's time for going to bed?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I am much older than Babs, and Hilda said——"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Jasper; I said Judy should have a little talk with me all by +myself to-night," said Hilda, putting back her hand and drawing her +little sister forward. "Here's a tiny bit of my chair for you to sit +upon, Judy dearest."</p> + +<p>"Then I'll take Babs upstairs," said Jasper. "Put your arms tightly +round my neck, you quaint monkey, and I'll race up to your room with +you."</p> + +<p>"Hilda," said Judy, the moment the door had closed behind the two, "I +haven't given you my present yet."</p> + +<p>"My darling," said Hilda, "when we love as you and I love each other, +presents mean nothing—nothing at all. I know you have no <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span>money, +dearest little Judy and I think it was so sweet of you not to ask for +any. Your present to me is your thoughtfulness; no gift could be +sweeter."</p> + +<p>"Hilda, may I rest my head against your shoulder?"</p> + +<p>"Of course, darling. Now aren't we cozy?"</p> + +<p>"We are; I feel warm now, and—and happy. I won't be able to sit like +this for a long time again."</p> + +<p>"Yes you will, for you're coming to stay with us; as soon as ever we get +into our house, or our flat, or wherever we shall live, you are to come. +One of the very first rooms I shall furnish will be your little bedroom, +my Judy."</p> + +<p>"And then I can sit close to you every night. But oh, Hilda, <em>he'll</em> be +there, he won't like it."</p> + +<p>"Yes, he will; he'll like anything that I like. There is an old proverb +that I must repeat for your benefit—'Love me, love my dog.' That means +that those whom I love you ought to love."</p> + +<p>"Ought I? Very well, I'll try to love—Jasper. Anything that you say +I'll try to do. Hilda, why does loving a person give pain? I have an +ache in my heart—a big ache. There now, what a horrid girl I am! I am +making your eyes fill with tears. You shan't be unhappy <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span>just when +you're going to be made into a beautiful white bride. Sutton says it is +unlucky for a bride to cry. You shan't cry, Hilda, you shan't—you +mustn't."</p> + +<p>"But I can't help crying, Judy, when I think that you are unhappy, and +when you speak of your love to me as a pain."</p> + +<p>"I'll never speak of it again. I'll be happy—I won't fret—no, I won't +fret at all, and I won't cry even once," said the child, making a +valiant effort to bring a smile to her face. "Hilda, will you promise me +something very, very solemnly?"</p> + +<p>"If it is in my power I certainly will, my pet."</p> + +<p>"You have not got my wedding present yet, Hilda; but it is coming. +Promise me——"</p> + +<p>"What, darling?"</p> + +<p>"Promise to take it to church with you to-morrow—I'll give it to you +just before church—it will be full of me—my very heart will be in +it—take it to church with you, Hilda, and hold it in your hand when +you're giving yourself to Jasper—promise—promise."</p> + +<p>"How excited you are, my dearest! If it makes you really happy to know +that I shall hold something of yours in my hand when I am being married, +I will certainly do so."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it does make me happy, it does!"</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> +<a name="present" id="present"></a>CHAPTER VII.<br /> + +<small>A WEDDING PRESENT.</small></h2> + +<div class="block"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But my lover will not prize<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the glory that he rides in,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When he gazes in my face:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He will say: "O Love, thine eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Build the shrine my soul abides in,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And I kneel here for thy grace!"<br /></span></div></div> +<p class="right smcap">—E. Barrett Browning.</p> +</div> + + +<p>There was a holly tree not far from the church with berries so red and +leaves so green and shining that it was generally denuded of its +beauties to decorate the most important parts of the church.</p> + +<p>Judy knew this holly tree well. It had been much crippled in shape and +color for the Christmas decorations, but one perfect branch had been +left where the berries still grew in full rich clusters—this special +branch had not been noticed by the gardener when he was cutting the +holly for Christmas, and Judy determined that from it she would pick the +crimson berries which were to constitute Hilda's wedding present.</p> + +<p>"Barnes," she said to the old gardener the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span>day before, "you mustn't +allow anyone to touch my bough of holly."</p> + +<p>"Well, Miss Judy, you're a queer child; what bough of holly do you +mean?"</p> + +<p>"The bough on the round tree near the church. I want it most particular +badly; you won't let anyone pick it—will you, Barnes?"</p> + +<p>"No, that I won't," said Barnes, good-naturedly; and Judy, quite +satisfied and happy in her mind, ran away.</p> + +<p>On the wedding morning, just when the day broke, she got softly, very +softly out of bed. Babs was having happy dreams at the moment, for +smiles were flitting across her face and her lips were moving. Judy, +heavy-eyed and pale, rose from her broken slumbers and proceeded to +dress herself. She must go out now to fetch her holly bough. She could +dress herself nicely; and putting on a warm jacket she ran downstairs +and let herself out into the foggy, frosty air. She was warmly clad as +to her head and throat, but she had not considered it necessary to put +on her out-door boots. The boots took a long time to lace, and as she +did not expect to be absent from the house more than ten or twelve +minutes, she did not think it worth while to go to this trouble.</p> + +<p>She ran swiftly now, her heart beating with a <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span>certain pleasurable +excitement. It was so nice to be able to make a beautiful, quaint +wedding present out of the red berries and the glistening leaves and the +little note full of love hiding away in their depths. How delighted +Hilda would be by and by to open that note and to read some of Judy's +innermost thoughts.</p> + +<p>"Even though she has Jasper, she loves me," thought the child. "She will +know <em>something</em> of what I think of her, the darling, when she has read +my note."</p> + +<p>The little letter, written on a tiny pink sheet of paper, was put away +all ready in Judy's drawer; she had but to cut the bough of holly and +her unique wedding present would be almost ready. She reached the tree, +having to go to it through long grass heavy with hoar frost. Her +stockings and feet were already very wet, but she thought nothing of +this fact in her excitement. She had a small knife in her pocket which +she proceeded to take out in order to cut the bough away—it grew low +down and she had to pull the grass aside to look for it.</p> + +<p>Alack, and alas! where was it, who had taken it? Had wicked, wicked +Barnes been faithless? There was a torn gash on the trunk of the tree, +and no long bough red with berries was anywhere to be seen.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span>Poor little Judy could not help uttering a cry of anguish. Hot anger +against Barnes swelled up in her heart. Miss Mills was in reality the +culprit. Knowing nothing of Judy's desire, she had cut the bough late +the night before for some window decoration.</p> + +<p>"I won't go back to the house until I get some holly," thought the +child. She wiped away her fast-falling tears and set her sharp little +wits to work. This was the most scarce time in the whole winter for +holly berries, the greater number of them having been used for church +and Christmas decorations; but Judy, whose keen eyes noticed Nature in +all her aspects, suddenly remembered that on the borders of a lake +nearly a mile away grew another holly tree—a small and unremarkable +bush which might yet contain sufficient bright berries for her purpose. +Without an instant's hesitation she determined to walk that mile and +reach that tree. She must go quickly if she would be back before anyone +noticed her. She was particularly anxious that her gift should not be +seen in advance. Running, racing, and scrambling she effected her +purpose, reached the tree, secured some berries and leaves, and returned +to the house wet through and very tired.</p> + +<p>Babs was rubbing her eyes and stretching her <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span>limbs in her snug bed in +the nursery when her sister came back.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Judy, what have you been doing?" she exclaimed, sitting up and +staring in round-eyed astonishment.</p> + +<p>"Hush, Babs," said Judy, "don't speak for a moment—don't say a single +word until I have locked the door."</p> + +<p>"But you oughtn't to lock the door. Miss Mills doesn't wish it."</p> + +<p>"I am going to disobey her."</p> + +<p>"But you'll be punished."</p> + +<p>"I don't care."</p> + +<p>The key was turned in the lock, and Judy, going over to Babs' bed, +exhibited her spoils.</p> + +<p>"See," she said, "here's my wedding present."</p> + +<p>"Did you go to fetch those holly berries this morning?" asked Babs.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I did, and I had to go a long way for them too; that horrid, +wicked old Barnes had cut away my bough, and I had to go all the way to +the lake."</p> + +<p>"Your feet do look so sloppy and wet."</p> + +<p>"So they are, they are soaking; I forgot to put on my boots."</p> + +<p>"Oh, won't you catch an awful cold! won't Miss Mills be angry!"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span>"Never mind; I'll change my stockings and shoes after I have arranged +my present."</p> + +<p>"It's such a funny wedding present," said Babs. "Do you think Hilda will +like it?"</p> + +<p>"She'll do more than like it: she'll love it. Don't talk to me any +more—I'm too busy to answer you."</p> + +<p>Babs fidgeted and mumbled to herself. Judy stood with her back to her. +She used her little fingers deftly—her taste as to arrangement and +color was perfect. The sharp thorns pricked her poor little fingers, but +she was rather glad than otherwise to suffer in Hilda's cause. The +wedding present was complete, no sign of the note could be seen in the +midst of the green leaves and crimson berries. Judy unlocked the door +and tumbled back into bed. Miss Mills knew nothing of her escapade, for +Babs was far too stanch to betray her.</p> + +<p>Just as Hilda in a cloud of white was stepping into the carriage to go +to church that morning, a little figure, also in cloudy white with +wide-open greeny-gray eyes, under which heavy dark marks were already +visible, rushed up to her and thrust something into her hand.</p> + +<p>"Your—your wedding present, Hilda," gasped Judy. The strong colors of +the red and green made almost a blot upon Hilda's fairness. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span>Her father, +who was accompanying her to church, interposed.</p> + +<p>"Stand back, my dear, stand back, Judy," he said. "Hilda, you had better +leave those berries in the hall; you're surely not going to take them to +church."</p> + +<p>"Your promise, Hilda, your faithful promise," said Judy in an imploring +voice.</p> + +<p>Hilda looked at the child; she remembered her words of the night before, +and holding the prickly little bunch firmly, said in a gentle voice:</p> + +<p>"I particularly want to take Judy's present to church with me, father."</p> + +<p>"As you like, my love, of course; but it is not at all in keeping with +that lovely bouquet of hot-house white flowers sent to you by Lady +Dellacœur."</p> + +<p>"Then, if so, Lady Dellacœur's flowers shall stay at home," said +Hilda. She tossed the splendid bouquet on the hall table, and with +Judy's holly berries in her hand, sprang into the carriage.</p> + +<p>"Isn't she a darling?" said Judy, turning with eyes that glowed in their +happiness to Miss Mills.</p> + +<p>"A goose, I call her," muttered Miss Mills; but Judy neither heard nor +heeded her words.</p> + +<p>The little church was nearly full of spectators, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span>and one and all did +not fail to remark Judy's wedding present. A bride in white from top to +toe—a lovely bride in the tenderest bloom of youth, to carry a bouquet +of strong dark green and crimson—had anything so incongruous ever been +seen before? But Hilda held the flowers tightly, and Judy's hungry heart +was satisfied.</p> + +<p>"Good-by, my darling," said Hilda to her little sister a couple of hours +later; "good-by, Judy; my first letter shall be to you, and I will +carefully keep your dear wedding present."</p> + +<p>"Hilda, Hilda, there's a little note inside of it, in the heart of it; +you'll read it, won't you, and you won't show it to Jasper?"</p> + +<p>"If you wish me not, I won't, dearest. How hot your lips are, Judy, and +how flushed your face."</p> + +<p>"I am just a wee bit shivery," said Judy, "but it's nothing, nothing at +all. I'll promise you not to fret, Hilda. Good-by, dear, dear, darling +Hilda."</p> + +<p>"Good-by, my sweetest little treasure, good-by."</p> + +<p>Hilda got into the carriage; her husband took his place by her side. +Mildred Anstruther tossed a great shower of rice after them, Miss <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span>Mills +and Babs hurled slippers down the avenue, Judy was nowhere to be seen.</p> + +<p>"Hilda," said Quentyns, as they were driving to the station, "why did +you have such a very funny bouquet in church? You showed me Lady +Dellacœur's flowers last night. Why didn't you wear them, darling? +Those harsh holly berries and leaves weren't in your usual taste."</p> + +<p>"But you're not angry with me for carrying that little bouquet, Jasper, +are you?"</p> + +<p>"My darling, could I be angry with you for anything?"</p> + +<p>"The little bunch of holly was Judy's wedding present," said Hilda, +tears dimming her eyes; "I promised her that I would wear them. Sweet +little darling, my heart aches at leaving her."</p> + +<p>Quentyns took Hilda's hand and held it firmly within his own. He said +some sympathetic words, for Hilda's slightest grief was grief to him, +but in his heart he could not help murmuring:</p> + +<p>"That tiresome, morbid child. Poor darling Hilda, I must show her very +gently and gradually how terribly she is spoiling Judy."</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> +<a name="honeymoon" id="honeymoon"></a>CHAPTER VIII.<br /> + +<small>HONEYMOON.</small></h2> + +<div class="block"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The night is in her hair<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And giveth shade for shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the pale moonlight on her forehead white<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like a spirit's hand is laid;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her lips part with a smile<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Instead of speakings done:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I ween, she thinketh of a voice,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Albeit uttering none.<br /></span></div></div> +<p class="right smcap">—Mrs. Barrett Browning.</p> +</div> + + +<p>A month later Mrs. Quentyns was sitting in one of the largest hotels at +Rome waiting for her husband to come in. The day was so balmy and genial +that it was almost impossible for Hilda to believe that the time of year +was early February. Dressed in dark-green velvet, with a creamy feather +boa lying by her side, Hilda sat amidst all her unaccustomed +surroundings, her eyes looking straight down the lofty room and her +thoughts far away. The bride was thinking of her English home—she was +an intensely happy bride—she loved her husband devotedly—she looked +forward to a good and blessed life by his <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span>side, but still (and to her +credit be it spoken) she could not forget old times. In the Rectory +gardens now the crocuses and snowdrops were putting out their first +dark-green leaves, and showing their tender petals to the faint winter +sunshine. Judy and Babs, wrapped in furs from top to toe, were taking +their afternoon walk—Babs was looking in vain for insect life in the +hedges, and Judy was opening her big eyes wide to see the first green +bud that ventured to put out its little tip to be greeted by the winter +cold. Aunt Marjorie was learning to make use of her legs, and was +glowing with warmth of body and vexation of spirit. The Rector was +tranquilly writing a sermon which, notwithstanding its polished diction, +should yet show the workings of a new spirit which would move his +congregation on Sunday.</p> + +<p>Hilda seemed to see the whole picture—but her mind's eye rested longest +on the figure of the tall, rather overgrown child, whose eyes always +wore too hungry an expression for perfect happiness.</p> + +<p>"Little darling," murmured Hilda, "how I wish I had her with me +here—she'd appreciate things so wonderfully. It is the greatest treat +in the world to take Judy to see a really good picture—how her eyes +shine in her dear face <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span>when she looks at it. My sweet little Judy, +Jasper does not care for me to talk much to you, but I love you with all +my heart and soul; it is the one drawback to my perfect happiness that I +must be parted from you."</p> + +<p>Hilda rose as she spoke, and going over to a table on which her +traveling-bag stood, opened it, pressed the spring on a certain lock, +and taking out a little crumpled, stained letter, read the words written +on it.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>"My darling Hilda [wrote the poor little scribe], this is to say +that I love you better than anyone else in the world. I'll +always go on loving you best of all. Please take a thousand +million kisses, and never forget Judy.</p> + +<p>"P. S.—I'll pray for you every day and every night. I hope you +will be very happy. I won't fret if you don't. This letter is +packed with love.</p> + +<p class="right smcap">"Judy."</p> +</div> + +<p>A step was heard along the passage; Hilda folded up the letter, slipped +it back into its hiding place, and ran down the long room to meet her +husband.</p> + +<p>"Well, my darling," he exclaimed; "the English mail has just come in, +and here's a budget for you."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span>"And a budget for you too, Jasper. What a heap of letters!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and one of them is from Rivers. He rather wants me in London: +there's a good case coming on at the Law Courts; he says I shall be +counsel for it if I'm in town. What do you say to coming back to London +on Saturday, Hilda?"</p> + +<p>"You know I shall be only too delighted; I am just pining to be home +again. Do you think we could go down to the Rectory? I should so like to +spend Sunday there."</p> + +<p>"My darling, what are you thinking of? I want to be in London, not in +Hampshire. Now that I have got you, sweetheart, I must neglect no chance +of work."</p> + +<p>Hilda's face turned slightly pale.</p> + +<p>"Of course, darling," she said, looking up sweetly at her tall husband; +"but where are we to go on Saturday night? You spoke of going home."</p> + +<p>"And so we are going home, my love—or rather we are going toward home; +but as we have not taken a house yet, we must spend a week with the +Malverns when first we get to England. I will send a line to my aunt, +and tell her to expect us on Saturday."</p> + +<p>Hilda said nothing more. She smothered <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span>the ghost of a sigh, and sitting +down by the wood fire, which, notwithstanding the genial weather, was +acceptable enough in their lofty room, began to open her letters. The +Rectory budget was of course first attended to. It contained several +inclosures—one from her father, which was short and principally +occupied over a review of the last new theological book he had been +reading, one from Aunt Marjorie, and one from Miss Mills.</p> + +<p>"None from Judy," said Hilda, in a voice of surprise; "she has only +written to me once since we were married."</p> + +<p>She spoke aloud, and looked up at her husband for sympathy. He was +reading a letter of his own, and its contents seemed to amuse him, for +he broke into a hearty laugh.</p> + +<p>"What is it, Jasper?" asked Hilda. "What is amusing you?"</p> + +<p>"Something Rivers has said, my love. I'll tell you presently. Capital +fellow he is; if I get this brief I shall be in tremendous luck."</p> + +<p>Hilda opened Aunt Marjorie's letter and began to read. The old lady was +a somewhat rambling correspondent. Her letters were always closely +written and voluminous. Hilda had to strain her young eyes to decipher +all the sentences.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> +"I must say I dislike poverty [wrote Aunt Marjorie]; you are +well out of it, Hilda. It is my private conviction that your +father has absolutely forgotten that his income has jumped down +in a single day from three thousand three hundred and fifty +pounds a year to the three hundred and fifty without the odd +thousands; he goes on just as he has always done, and is +perfectly happy. Dean Sharp sent him his last book a week ago, +and he has done nothing but read it and talk of it ever +since—his conversation in consequence is most tiresome. I miss +you awfully, my love. I never could stand theology, even when I +was surrounded by comforts, and now when I have to stint the +fires and suffer from cold feet, you may imagine how unpleasant +it is to me. My dear Hilda, I am afraid I shall not be able to +keep Miss Mills, she seems to get sillier every day; it is my +private conviction that she has a love affair on, but she's as +mum as possible about it. Poor Sutton cried in a most +heartrending way when she left; she said when leaving, 'I'll +never get another mistress like you, ma'am, for you never +interfere, even to the clearing of the jellies.' I am glad she +appreciates me, I didn't think she did while she was living with +us. The new cook can't attempt anything <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span>in the way of soup, so +I have given it up for dinner; but your father never appears to +miss it. The garden is looking horrible, so many weeds about. +The Anstruthers have all gone up to London—taken a house for +the season at an enormous price. How those people do squander +money; may they never know what it is for it to take to itself +wings!</p> + +<p>"By the way, Judy has not been well; she caught cold or +something the day of your wedding, and was laid up with a nasty +little feverish attack and cough. We had to send for Dr. Harvey, +who said she had a chill, and was a good deal run down. She's up +again now, but looks like a ghost with her big eyes. She +certainly is a most peculiar child—I don't pretend to +understand her. She crept into the room a minute ago, and I told +her I was writing to you, and asked her if she had any message. +She got pink all over just as if she were going to cry, and then +said:</p> + +<p>"'Tell Hilda that I am not fretting a bit, that I am as happy as +possible. Give her my dear love and heaps of kisses' (my dear +Hilda, you must take them for granted, for I am not going to put +crosses all over the letter).</p> + +<p>"Then she ran out of the room as if she had <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span>nothing further to +say—really a most queer child. Babs is a little treasure and +the comfort of my life.</p> + +<p class="right">"Your affectionate old Aunt,</p> +<p class="smcap right2">"Marjorie."</p> +</div> + +<p>"Jasper!" said Hilda, in a choked sort of voice. "Jasper!"</p> + +<p>"What is it, my darling? Why, how queer you look, your face is quite +white!"</p> + +<p>"It is about Judy; she's not well!" said Hilda. "I ought to go to her, I +ought not to delay. Couldn't we catch the night mail?"</p> + +<p>"Good gracious!" said Quentyns, alarmed by Hilda's manner. "What is +wrong with the child? If it is anything infectious——"</p> + +<p>"No, no, it is nothing of that sort; but in any case, whatever it is, I +ought to go to her—I ought not to delay. May I telegraph to say we are +starting at once?"</p> + +<p>"My darling, how excitable you are! What can be wrong with the child?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Jasper, you don't understand—Aunt Marjorie says——Here, read +this bit."</p> + +<p>"I can't read that crabbed, crossed writing, Hilda."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll read it aloud to you; see where it begins—'Judy has not +been well——'"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span>Hilda read the whole passage, a lump in her throat almost choking her +voice. When she had finished, Quentyns put his arms round her and drew +her to his heart.</p> + +<p>"Why, you poor little, foolish, nervous creature," he said, "there's +nothing wrong with Judy now; she was ill, but she's much better. My +darling Hilda—my love, you must really not disturb yourself about a +trifling mishap of this sort."</p> + +<p>"It isn't a trifle, Jasper. Oh, I know Judy—I know how she looks and +what she feels. Oh, do, do let me go back to her, darling."</p> + +<p>"You read that letter in such a perturbed sort of voice that I can +scarcely follow its meanings," said Quentyns. "Here, give it to me, and +let me see for myself what it is all about. Why will old ladies write +such villainous hands? Where does the passage begin, Hilda? Sit down, +darling, quiet yourself. Now let me see, here it is—'Judy has not been +well——'"</p> + +<p>Hilda's hands had shaken with nervousness while she read her aunt's +letter aloud, but Quentyns held the sheet of thin paper steadily. As the +sentences fell from his lips, his full tones seemed to put new meaning +into them—the ghostly terrors died out of Hilda's heart. When her +husband laid down the sheet of paper, and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span>turned to her with a +triumphant smile, she could not help smiling back at him in return.</p> + +<p>"There," he said, "did not I tell you there was nothing wrong with Judy +now? What a little goose you are!"</p> + +<p>"I suppose I am; and if you really, really think—if you are quite sure +that she's all right——"</p> + +<p>"Of course, I am absolutely certain; doesn't Aunt Marjorie say so? The +fact is, Hilda, you make too great a fuss about that little sister of +yours—I feel almost jealous of her."</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> +<a name="starved" id="starved"></a>CHAPTER IX.<br /> + +<small>STARVED.</small></h2> + +<div class="block"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If I leave all for thee, wilt thou exchange<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And be all to me? Shall I never miss<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Home-talk and blessing and the common kiss?<br /></span></div></div> +<p class="right smcap">—E. Barrett Browning.</p> +</div> + + +<p>In the first pleasant spring-time of that same year, Mrs. Anstruther, a +very gay and fashionable-looking woman of between forty and fifty years +of age, turned on a certain morning to her daughter and made a remark:</p> + +<p>"Don't forget that we must pay some calls this afternoon, Mildred."</p> + +<p>Mildred was standing by the window of their beautiful drawing room. The +window-boxes had just been filled with lovely spring flowers; she was +bending over them and with deft fingers arranging the blossoms and +making certain small alterations, which had the effect of grouping the +different masses of color more artistically than the gardener had done.</p> + +<p>"Yes, mother," she said, half turning her handsome head and glancing +back at her parent. "We are to make calls. I am quite agreeable."</p> + +<p>"I wish you would take an interest, Mildred; <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span>it is so unpleasant going +about with people who are only just 'quite agreeable.' Now, when I was a +young girl——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, please, mother, don't! The times have completely changed since you +were young; enthusiasm has gone out of fashion. I am nothing if I am not +fashionable! Of course, if calls have to be made, I shall make them. +I'll put on my most becoming bonnet, and my prettiest costume, and I'll +sit in the carriage by your side, and enter the houses of those friends +who happen to be at home, and I'll smile and look agreeable, and people +will say, 'What an amiable woman Miss Anstruther is!' I'll do the +correct thing of <em>course</em>, only I suppose it is not necessary for my +heart to go pitter-patter over it. By the way, have you made out a list +of the unfortunates who are to be victimized by our presence this +afternoon?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Anstruther sighed, and gazed in some discontent at her daughter.</p> + +<p>"It is so disagreeable not to understand people," she said. "I don't +profess to understand you, Mildred. If you will give me my visiting-book +I can soon tell you the places where we ought to go. And oh, by the way, +should we not call on Hilda Quentyns? she has taken a house somewhere in +West Kensington."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span>"You don't mean to tell me that the Quentyns are in town?" said +Mildred, turning sharply round and gazing at her mother.</p> + +<p>"Of course; they have been in London for some time. I met Lady Malvern +yesterday, and she gave me Hilda's address. She seems to have gone to +live in a very poky place. See, I have entered the name in my +address-book—10, Philippa Road, West Kensington."</p> + +<p>"Then of course we'll go to her—that will be <em>really</em> nice," said +Mildred with enthusiasm. "We might go to Hilda first and spend some +little time with her."</p> + +<p>"But Mrs. Milward's 'at home' begins quite early. I should not like to +miss that."</p> + +<p>"Who cares for Mrs. Milward! Look here, mother, suppose <em>you</em> pay the +calls and let me go and see Hilda. I have a good deal I want to talk +over with her; for one thing, I want to say something about Judy."</p> + +<p>"Poor, queer little Judy," said Mrs. Anstruther with a laugh. "What can +you possibly have to say about her?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think Judy is at all well," said Mildred. "There is such a +thing as dying of heart-hunger. If ever a child suffered from that +old-fashioned complaint, it is that poor mite at Little Staunton +Rectory."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span>"My dear Mildred, you get more absurd every day. Judy lives in a most +comfortable home, for notwithstanding their poverty, old Aunt Marjorie +manages to keep everything going in really respectable style. The child +has a loving father, a devoted aunt, a dear little sister, and an +excellent governess, and you talk of her dying of heart-hunger! It is +absurd."</p> + +<p>"Nevertheless," said Mildred,—she stopped abruptly, her bright eyes +looked across the room and out through the open window,—"nevertheless," +she said, giving her foot an impatient tap, "I should like to see Hilda. +I should like to have a long talk with her. I have heard nothing about +her since her wedding, so by your leave, mother, I'll drive over to West +Kensington immediately after lunch and send the victoria back for you."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Anstruther, who was always more or less like wax in the hands of +her strong-minded daughter, was obliged somewhat unwillingly to submit +to this arrangement; and Mildred, charmingly dressed and looking young +and lovely, was bowled rapidly away in the direction of Hilda Quentyns' +humble home soon after two o'clock.</p> + +<p>"It will be pleasant to take the poor old dear by surprise," said +Mildred to herself. "There <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span>was a time when I felt jealous of her good +fortune in having secured Jasper Quentyns, but, thank goodness, I have +quite got over the assaults of the green-eyed monster now. Ah, here we +are. What a queer little street!—what frightfully new and yet +picturesque houses! They look like dove-cotes. I wonder if this pair of +turtle-doves coo in their nest all day long."</p> + +<p>The footman jumped down and rang the doorbell. In a moment a +neatly-dressed but very young looking servant stood in the open doorway.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mrs. Quentyns was at home," she said, and Mildred entered Hilda's +pretty house.</p> + +<p>She went into the drawing room, and stood somewhat impatiently waiting +for her hostess to appear. The little room was furnished with an eye to +artistic effect, the walls were decorated with good taste. The furniture +was new, as well as pretty. One beautiful photogravure from Burne Jones' +"Wheel of Fortune" was hung over the mantelpiece. Hilda and Quentyns, +faithfully represented by an Italian photographer, stood side by side in +a little frame on one of the brackets. Mildred felt herself drawing one +or two heavy sighs.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what there is about this little room, but I like it," she +murmured; "nay, more, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span>I love it. I can fancy good people inhabiting it. +I am quite certain that Love has not yet flown out of the window. I am +quite sure, too, of another thing, that even if Poverty does come in at +this door, Love will remain. Oh, silly Hilda, what have you to do with +the 'Wheel of Fortune'? your position is assured; you dwell safely +enthroned in the heart of a good man. Oh, happy Hilda!"</p> + +<p>The door was opened, and Hilda Quentyns smiling, with roses on her +cheeks and words of delighted welcome on her lips, rushed into the room.</p> + +<p>"How sweet of you to call, Mildred," she exclaimed. "I was just +wondering if you would take any notice of me."</p> + +<p>"You dear creature," said Mildred, kissing Hilda and patting her on the +shoulder. "Two hours ago I heard for the first time that you were in +London. I ate my lunch and ordered the victoria, and put on my prettiest +bonnet and drove over to see you as fast as ever the horses would bring +me. I could not well pay my respects to Mrs. Quentyns in a shorter +time."</p> + +<p>"I am very glad to see you," said Hilda.</p> + +<p>"How childish you look," replied Mildred, gazing at her in a rather +dissatisfied way; "you have no responsibilities at all now, your Jasper +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span>takes the weight of everything, and you live in perpetual sunshine. Is +the state of bliss as blissful as we have always been led to imagine, +Hilda, or are the fairy tales untrue, and does the prince only exist in +one's imagination?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, he is real, quite real," said Hilda. "I am as happy as it is +possible for a human being to be. Jasper—but I won't talk of him—you +know what I really think of him. Now let me show you my house. Isn't it +a sweet little home? Wasn't it good of Jasper to come here? He wanted a +flat, but when he saw that my heart was set on a little house, he took +this. Don't you like our taste in furniture, Milly? Oh, Milly dear, I +<em>am</em> glad to see you. It is nice to look at one of the dear home-faces +again."</p> + +<p>"Come and show me your house," said Mildred; "I am going to stay a long +time—all the afternoon, if possible."</p> + +<p>"I am more than glad; you must remain to dinner. I will telegraph to +Jasper to come home early."</p> + +<p>"I don't mind if I do," said Mildred. "I have no very special +engagements for this evening, and even if I had I should be disposed to +break them. It is not often one gets the chance of spending an hour in a +nest with two turtle-doves."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span>"Come, come," said Hilda, "that sounds as if you were laughing at us. +Now you shall see the house, and then we'll have tea together, and you +must tell me all about the old place."</p> + +<p>The turtle-doves' nest was a very minute abode. There was only one +story, and the bed-rooms in consequence were small and few.</p> + +<p>"Aren't we delightfully economical?" said Hilda, throwing open the door +of her own room. "Is not this wee chamber the perfection of snugness? +and this is Jasper's dressing room, and here is such a dear little +bath-room; and this is the spare-room (we have not furnished it yet, but +Jasper says we can't afford to have many visitors, so I'm not making any +special haste). And this is our servants'-room; I did not think when we +lived at Little Staunton that two servants could fit into such a tiny +closet, but these London girls seem quite to like it. Now, Mildred, come +downstairs. You have looked over this thimbleful of a house, and I hope +it has pleased you. Come downstairs and let us talk. I am starving for +news."</p> + +<p>"Well, my dear, begin catechising to your heart's content," said +Mildred. She threw herself back into the easiest of the easy-chairs as +she spoke, and toasted her feet before Hilda's cheerful <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span>fire. "What do +you want to know first, Mrs. Quentyns?"</p> + +<p>"How long is it since you left home—when did you see them all?"</p> + +<p>"I was at home a fortnight ago, and I spent the greater part of one +afternoon at the Rectory."</p> + +<p>"Oh, did you? Is it awfully changed?"</p> + +<p>"No; the house is <em>in statu quo</em>. It looks just as handsome and stately +and unconcerned as of old. Aunt Marjorie says it is full of dust, but I +did not notice any. Aunt Marjorie has got quite a new wrinkle between +her brows, and she complains a great deal of the young cook, but my +private opinion is that that unfortunate cook is your aunt's salvation, +for she gives her something else to think of besides the one perpetual +grievance."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, yes," said Hilda, a little impatiently, "poor dear Aunt +Maggie; and what about the others? How is my father?"</p> + +<p>"He looks thin, and his hair is decidedly silvered; but his eyes just +beamed at me with kindness. He never spoke once about the change in his +circumstances, and on Sunday he preached a sermon which set me crying."</p> + +<p>"Dear Mildred, I think father's sermons were <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span>always beautiful. How I +should like to hear him once again!"</p> + +<p>"So you will, of course, very soon; they're all expecting you down. Why +don't you go?"</p> + +<p>The faintest shadow of a cloud flitted across Hilda's face.</p> + +<p>"Jasper is so busy," she said.</p> + +<p>"Well, go without him. I am quite convinced you would do them a sight of +good."</p> + +<p>"Jasper does not like me to leave him," said Hilda; "we both intend to +run down to the Rectory for a flying visit soon, but he is so busy just +at present that he cannot fix a day. Go on, Milly, tell me about the +others. What of Babs?"</p> + +<p>"I saw her squatting down on the middle of the floor with a blind kitten +just three days old in her lap. The kitten squalled frightfully, and +Babs kept on calling it 'poor, <em>pretty</em> darling.' I thought badly of the +kitten's future prospects, but well of its nurse's; she looked +particularly flourishing."</p> + +<p>"And Judy?" said Hilda, "she wasn't well a little time ago, but Aunt +Marjorie has said nothing about her health lately. Has she quite, quite +recovered? Did she look ill? Did you see much of her?"</p> + +<p>"She was sitting in the ingle-nook, reading a book."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span>"Reading a book!" said Hilda; "but Judy does not like reading. Was the +day wet when you called at the Rectory?"</p> + +<p>"No; the sun was shining all the time."</p> + +<p>"Why wasn't she out scampering and running all the time, and hunting for +grubs?"</p> + +<p>"She had a cough, not much, just a little hack, and Aunt Marjorie +thought she had better stay indoors."</p> + +<p>"Then she is <em>not</em> quite well!"</p> + +<p>"Aunt Marjorie says she is, and that the hack is nothing at all. By the +way, Hilda, if your husband won't spare you to go down to the Rectory, +why don't you have that child here on a visit? Nothing in the world +would do her so much good as a sight of your face."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I know, I know; my little Judy, my treasure! But the spare-room is +not ready, and Jasper is so prudent, he won't go in debt for even a +shilling's-worth. He has spent all his available money on the house +furnishing, and says the spare-room must wait for a month or so. As soon +as ever it is furnished, Judy is to be the first guest."</p> + +<p>"Can't you hire a little bedstead of some sort?" said Mildred, "and put +it up in that room, and send for the child. What does Judy care about +furnished rooms!"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span>"You think she looks really ill, do you, Mildred?"</p> + +<p>"I will be candid with you, Hilda. I did not like her look—she suffers. +It is sad to read suffering in a child's eyes. When I got a peep into +Judy's eyes I could see that her soul was drooping for want of +nourishment. She is without that particular thing which is essential to +her."</p> + +<p>"And what is that?"</p> + +<p>"Your love. Do send for her, Hilda. Never mind whether the spare-room is +furnished or not."</p> + +<p>Hilda sat and fidgeted with her gold chain. Her face, which had been +full of smiles and dimples, was now pale with emotion, her eyes were +full of trouble.</p> + +<p>"Why are you so irresolute?" asked Mildred impatiently.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I—I don't know. I am not quite my own mistress. I—I must think."</p> + +<p>The servant entered the room with a letter on a little salver. Hilda +took it up.</p> + +<p>"Why, this is from Judy," she exclaimed. "Perhaps she's much better +already. Do you mind my reading it, Mildred?"</p> + +<p>"Read it, certainly. I shall like to know how the dear queer mite is +getting on."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span>Hilda opened her letter, and, taking out a tiny pink sheet, read a few +words written on it.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="noi">"<span class="smcap">My Dear Hilda:</span></p> + +<p>"I am writing you a little letter. I hope you are quite well. I +don't fret, and I hope you don't. I think of you and never +forget you. I give you a kiss for now and for to-night, and for +every other night, and a million, thousand kisses for always.</p> + +<p class="right">"Your loving</p> +<p class="right2 smcap">"Judy."</p> + +<p>"Here are my kisses."</p></div> + +<p>A whole lot of crosses and round o's followed.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>"Here is my tex for us both. 'The Lord wach between me and +thee.'</p> + +<p class="smcap right2">"Judy."</p> +</div> + +<p>Hilda's eyes filled with sudden tears.</p> + +<p>"There is something else in the envelope," she exclaimed. "I think a +scrawl from Aunt Marjorie. I had a volume from her yesterday. I wonder +what she wants to write about again."</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="noi">"<span class="smcap">My Darling Hilda:</span></p> + +<p>"Now don't be frightened, my dear, but I have something to tell +you which I think you ought to know. Our dear little Judy +fainted in a rather alarming way in church yesterday. Of <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span>course +we sent for the doctor, and he says she is very weak, and must +stay in bed for a day or two. He says we need not be alarmed, +but that her strength is a good deal run down, and that she must +have been fretting about something. It just shows how little +doctors know, for I <em>never</em> saw the child sweeter, or more +gentle, or more easily amused. You know what a troublesome +little creature she used to be, always flashing about and +upsetting things, and bringing all kinds of obnoxious insects +into the house; but she has been just like a lamb since your +wedding, sitting contentedly by my side, looking over her fairy +story-books, and assuring me she wasn't fretting in the least +about you, and that she was perfectly happy. Babs did say that +she heard her crying now and then at night, but I fancy the +child must have been mistaken, for Judy certainly would not +conceal any trouble from me. I will write to you again about her +to-morrow. She directed this envelope to you herself yesterday +morning before church, so I am slipping my letter into it. Don't +be frightened, dear, we are taking all possible care of her.</p> + +<p class="right">"Your affectionate</p> +<p class="smcap right2">"Aunt Marjorie."</p> +</div> + +<p>"There," said Hilda, looking up with a queer, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span>terrified expression in +her eyes, "I knew how it would be. I married Jasper to please myself, +and I have killed Judy. Judy's heart is broken. Oh, what shall I do, +Milly, what shall I do?"</p> + +<p>"Let me read Aunt Marjorie's letter," said Mildred.</p> + +<p>Her quick, practical eyes glanced rapidly over the old lady's illegible +writing.</p> + +<p>"I don't think you have killed her, Hilda," said Miss Anstruther then, +"but she is simply fading away for want of the love which was her life. +Go back to her; go back at once, and she will revive. Come, there is not +a moment to be lost. I'll run out and send a telegram to Little +Staunton. I'll tell them to expect you this evening. Where's an A B C? +Have you got one?"</p> + +<p>"I think there is one on the wagon in the dining room. I'll fetch it."</p> + +<p>Hilda ran out of the room; she brought back the time-table in a moment. +Her face was white; her hands shook so that she could scarcely turn the +leaves.</p> + +<p>"Let me find the place," said Mildred. "There, let me see. Oh, what a +pity, you have lost the four o'clock train, and there isn't another +until seven. Never mind, say you will take that one. You'll arrive at +Bickley at <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span>twenty minutes to ten, and soon after ten you'll be at the +Rectory. I'll run at once and send off the telegram, for the sooner +Judy's heart is relieved the better."</p> + +<p>Mildred rushed to the davenport, filled in a telegraph-form, and brought +it to Hilda to read.</p> + +<p>"There, is that right?" she exclaimed. "Put your name to it if you are +satisfied."</p> + +<p>Hilda dashed the tears, which were still blinding her eyes, away.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," she exclaimed, "that will do. Take it at once, this moment, +before—before I have time to change my mind."</p> + +<p>Mildred had written, "Tell Judy to expect me at ten to-night." Hilda +added her name, and Mildred prepared to leave the room.</p> + +<p>"Good-by, Hilda," she said. "I won't come back, for you will need all +your time to pack, and to leave things in order for your Jasper. +Good-by, dear. Of course, you could not <em>think</em> of changing your mind, +it would be wicked, cruel; yes, it would be terribly cruel. Good-by, +Hilda, good-by."</p> + +<p>Mildred seated herself in the victoria and desired her coachman to drive +to the nearest telegraph-office.</p> + +<p>"I have made a discovery," she said, under her breath. "Jasper Quentyns +was not the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span>prince; no, <em>my</em> prince has not yet shown his shining face +above the horizon. Doubtless he will never come; but better that than to +think he has arrived and wake to find him common clay. Hilda is +absolutely <em>afraid</em> of her husband. No, Hilda, I would not be in your +shoes for a good deal."</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> +<a name="waiting" id="waiting"></a>CHAPTER X.<br /> + +<small>WAITING.</small></h2> + +<div class="block"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The days are clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Day after day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When April's here,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That leads to May,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And June<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Must follow soon.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stay, June, stay!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If only we could stop the moon<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And June!<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + + +<p>It was an April day, but the weather was still cold at Little Staunton, +and Aunt Marjorie thought it well to have a nice bright fire burning in +Judy's bedroom.</p> + +<p>Judy was sitting up in bed, her hair was combed back from her face, she +wore a pink dressing-gown, the black shadows under her eyes were not so +marked as yesterday, her firm little lips had an expression of extreme +and touching patience. Judy's movements were somewhat languid, and her +voice when she spoke had lost its high, glad pitch.</p> + +<p>Aunt Marjorie kept coming in and out of the room. Miss Mills fussed with +the fire, went to <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span>the window to look out over the landscape and to make +the same remark many times.</p> + +<p>"How late the spring is this year," said the governess, in her dreary +monotone.</p> + +<p>Babs stood with her back to Judy, sorting a cabinet full of curiosities. +There was no shadow of any sorrow on Babs' serene face—her full +contented voice prattled on interminably.</p> + +<p>A drawing-board lay on Judy's bed, a sheet of drawing-paper, two or +three pencils, and a thick piece of india-rubber lay by her side. For +over an hour she had been drawing industriously. A pink color came into +her cheeks as she worked, and Aunt Marjorie said to herself:</p> + +<p>"The child is all right—she just needed a little rest—she'll soon be +as well as possible. I'll go downstairs now, and write to Hilda about +her."</p> + +<p>Miss Mills also thought that Judy looked better. Miss Mills was still +guilty of keeping up a somewhat one-sided correspondence with the person +whom she so cordially hated—she had not heard from him for nearly a +month, and thought that the present would be a good opportunity to write +another letter to remind him of her existence. So, glancing at Judy as +she went, she also left the room.</p> + +<p>The door was shut carefully, and the two little sisters were alone. When +this happened, Judy <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span>threw down her pencils and gave utterance to a +faint, quickly-smothered sigh.</p> + +<p>"Why do you do it so softly?" said Babs, not troubling herself to turn +her face, but still keeping her stout back to her sister.</p> + +<p>"Do what so softly?" asked Judy.</p> + +<p>"Those groans to yourself. Aunt Marjorie won't believe that you ever +groan, and I <em>know</em> you do. She said you was as happy as the day is +long, and I said you <em>wasn't</em>. You know you do sob at night, or you have +she-cups or something."</p> + +<p>"Look here," said Judy, "it's very, very, <em>very</em> unkind of you, Babs, to +tell Aunt Marjorie what I do at night. I didn't think you'd be so +awfully mean. I am ill now, and Aunt Maggie would do anything for me, +and I'll ask her to put you to sleep in Miss Mills' room, if ever you +tell what I do at night again."</p> + +<p>"I'll never tell if you don't wish me to," said Babs, in her easy tones. +"You may sob so that you may be heard down in the drawing room and I +won't tell. Look here, Judy, I have found your old knife."</p> + +<p>"What old knife?"</p> + +<p>"The one you saved that animal with last autumn, don't you remember?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, yes—the <em>dear</em> little earwig. Do <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span>let me see the knife, Babs; +I thought I had lost it."</p> + +<p>"No, it was in the back of your cabinet, just under all the peacock's +feathers. Wasn't the earwig glad when you saved her?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Judy, smiling, "didn't she run home fast to her family? She +was sticking in the wood and couldn't get out, poor darling, but my dear +little knife cut the wood away and then she ran home. Oh, didn't she go +fast!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, didn't she?" said Babs, laughing. "I think earwigs are such +<em>sweet</em> little animals, don't you, Judy?"</p> + +<p>"Insects, you mean," said Judy. "Oh, yes, I love them special because +most people hate the poor dears."</p> + +<p>"What are you drawing, Judy? What a queer, queer picture!"</p> + +<p>"I'm going to call it 'Where the nasty fairies live,'" said Judy, "but I +haven't finished it. Babs, how long is it since Hilda went away?"</p> + +<p>"Weeks, and weeks, and weeks," replied Babs. "I has almost forgotten how +long."</p> + +<p>"Years and years, you mean," said Judy.</p> + +<p>The little pink flush of excitement faded out of her cheeks, her eyes +looked hollow, the shadow under them grew darker than ever.</p> + +<p>There came a rush along the passage, and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span>Aunt Marjorie, puffing with +the haste she had used, but trying to walk slowly and to speak calmly, +entered the room.</p> + +<p>"Judy, my darling," she said, "I have very good news for you."</p> + +<p>"For me," said Judy, flushing and paling almost in the same moment.</p> + +<p>"Yes, my dear little pet, very nice news. Your darling Hilda is coming."</p> + +<p>"Aunt Maggie!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, here's a telegram from her. She says in it, '<em>Tell Judy to expect +me at ten to-night</em>.' Why, my darling, how white you are! Babs, run and +fetch me those smelling-salts. Now, Judy, just one whiff. Ah, now you're +better."</p> + +<p>"Yes, auntie, much, much, <em>much</em> better. I am only awfully happy."</p> + +<p>Judy smiled, and the tears rushed to her eyes; her little thin hand +trembled, she tried to push her drawing materials away.</p> + +<p>"Please may I have the telegram?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Of course you may, my darling. Oh, and here comes kind Miss Mills with +your chicken-broth. Just the thing to set you up. Drink it off, dear. +Miss Mills, our sweet Hilda is coming to-night. I have just had a +telegram, she'll be here about ten."</p> + +<p>"Who's to meet her?" asked Miss Mills. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span>"You forget that there are no +horses in the stables now, and no carriage in the coach-house."</p> + +<p>"I did forget," said Aunt Marjorie. "I must send a message to Stephens +to take a fly to the station."</p> + +<p>"I'll go and tell him as soon as ever tea is over," answered Miss Mills. +"Ah, Judy! You'll soon be well now, Judy, won't you?"</p> + +<p>"I am well already," said Judy. "What delicious chicken-broth! Auntie +dear, stoop down, I want to whisper something to you."</p> + +<p>"Yes, my dearie, what is it?"</p> + +<p>"I needn't be asleep when Hilda comes, need I? You will let me sit up in +bed, won't you? I'll promise to be so quiet, I won't make a sound to +disturb Babs, but I should love to be awake and waiting for darling +Hilda. Please, please, auntie, say I may."</p> + +<p>"My darling—until ten o'clock! so awfully late. Judy dear, you're +getting quite feverish—you must calm yourself, my pet. Well, then, +well, <em>anything</em> to soothe you. We'll see how you keep, dearie. If you +don't get at all excited, I—I'll see what I shall do. Now I must leave +you, darling, to go and get Hilda's room ready. I wonder if Jasper is +coming with her, she doesn't say anything about him."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span>Aunt Marjorie trotted out of the room, Miss Mills started on her walk +to the village, and Judy began to speak eagerly to Babs.</p> + +<p>"I am quite well," she said; "you'll never hear me sob again at night. I +am quite the happiest girl in the world. Oh, think of kissing Hilda +again; and I didn't fret, no, I didn't—not really. Babs, don't you +think you might make the room look pretty? You might get out all the +animals and put them on the chimney-piece."</p> + +<p>"I'll be very glad to do that," replied Babs. "I often wanted to look at +the darlings, but it was no fun when you didn't wish to play with them." +She opened a little box as she spoke, and taking out china dogs, cats, +cocks and hens, ducks, giraffes, elephants, monkeys, and many other +varieties of the animal world, bestowed them with what taste she could +manage on the mantelpiece. "Don't they look sweet!" she exclaimed. "I +suppose you're not strong enough to have a game, Judy? If you could bray +like the donkey, I'd be the roaring bull."</p> + +<p>"To-morrow, perhaps, I can," said Judy, in a weak voice; "but the room +is not half ready yet. I want you to pin some of my drawings and some of +my texes on the wall. You'll find them in my own box if you open it."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span>"Yes, yes," said Babs in delight. "I do like making the room pretty for +Hilda, and you ordering me. You may purtend if you like that I am your +little servant."</p> + +<p>"Very well; you're putting that picture upside down, Babs."</p> + +<p>"Oh, how funny! Is that right?"</p> + +<p>"No, it's awfully crooked."</p> + +<p>For the next half-hour Babs labored hard, and Judy superintended, giving +sharp criticisms and ordering the arrangements of the chamber with much +peremptoriness.</p> + +<p>"Now we must have flowers," she exclaimed. "You must go out to the +garden, and pick all the violets you can get."</p> + +<p>"But it's very late to go out," said Babs, "and Miss Mills will be +angry."</p> + +<p>"As if that mattered! Who cares who is angry when Hilda is coming? The +worst Miss Mills can do is to punish you, and you won't mind that when +you think about Hilda. I know where there are violets, white and blue, +on that south bank after you pass the shrubbery; you know the bank where +the bees burrow, and where we catch ladybirds in the summer; run, Babs, +do run at once and pick all you can find."</p> + +<p>Judy's room was decorated to perfection. Judy herself lay in her white +bed, with pink roses <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span>on her cheeks, and eyes like two faintly shining +stars, and smiles coming and going on her lips, and eager words dropping +now and then from her impatient little tongue.</p> + +<p>"What is the hour now, Aunt Marjorie? Is it really only half-past nine?"</p> + +<p>"It is five-and-twenty to ten, Judy, and Miss Mills has gone in the fly +to the station, and your Hilda will be back, if the train is punctual, +by ten o'clock. How wonderfully well you look, my darling. I did right +after all to let you sit up in bed to wait for your dear sister."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am quite well, only—I hope Jasper won't come too."</p> + +<p>"Oh, fie! my pet. You know you ought not to say that treasonable sort of +thing—Jasper is Jasper, one of the family, and we must welcome him as +such—but between ourselves, just for no one else to hear in all the +wide world, I do hope also that our dear little Hilda will come here by +herself."</p> + +<p>Judy threw her thin arms round Aunt Marjorie's neck and gave her a +silent hug.</p> + +<p>"I'll never breathe what you said," she whispered back in her emphatic +voice.</p> + +<p>Babs slept peacefully in her cot at the other end of the room. The white +and blue violets lay in a tiny bowl on the little table by Judy's <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span>bed. +The rumble of wheels was heard in the avenue. Aunt Marjorie started to +her feet, and the color flew from Judy's face.</p> + +<p>"It cannot be Hilda yet," exclaimed the aunt. "No, of course, it is the +doctor. He will say that you are better to-night, Judy."</p> + +<p>The medical man entered the room, felt the pulse of his little patient, +looked into her eyes, and gave utterance to a few cheerful words.</p> + +<p>"The child is much better, isn't she?" asked Aunt Marjorie, following +him out of the room.</p> + +<p>"Hum! I am not so sure; her pulse is weak and quick, and for some reason +she is extremely excited. What is she sitting up in bed for? she ought +to have been in the land of dreams a long time ago."</p> + +<p>"Don't you know, Dr. Harvey; didn't we tell you, my niece, Mrs. +Quentyns, is expected to-night? and Judy is sitting up to see her."</p> + +<p>"Suspense is very bad for my little patient. What time is Mrs. Quentyns +expected to arrive?"</p> + +<p>"About ten. Judy is especially attached to her sister, and if I had +insisted on her trying to go to sleep, she would have tossed about and +worked herself into a fever."</p> + +<p>"She is very nearly in one now, and I don't particularly like the look +of excitement in her <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span>eyes. I hope Mrs. Quentyns will be punctual. As +soon as ever she comes, the child must settle to sleep. Give her a dose +of that bromide mixture immediately after. I'll come and see her the +first thing in the morning."</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> +<a name="wife" id="wife"></a>CHAPTER XI.<br /> + +<small>HUSBAND AND WIFE.</small></h2> + +<div class="block"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">But she is far away<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Now; nor the hours of night, grown hoar,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bring, yet to me, long gazing, from the door,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wind-stirred robe of roseate gray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And rose-cream of the hour that leads the day,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When we shall meet once more.<br /></span></div></div> +<p class="right smcap">—D. G. Rossetti.</p> +</div> + + +<p>Hilda Quentyns, Judy's idol, was not the strongest of characters. She +was very sweet and amiable, intensely true and affectionate to those to +whom she gave her heart, but she was somewhat timorous and somewhat +easily led.</p> + +<p>Long ago, when Babs was a baby, Hilda's mother had died. Since then Judy +had been her special care.</p> + +<p>Now with trembling hands she packed her portmanteau, gave the young cook +and parlor-maid directions what to do in her absence, and then sitting +down before her davenport, prepared to write an explanatory letter to +her husband.</p> + +<p>She thought it quite probable that Jasper <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span>would be angry with her for +rushing off like this, but for once she intended to brave his +displeasure.</p> + +<p>In her heart of hearts she knew exactly the state Judy was in. The +ardent soul was wearing out the delicate little frame. That suffering +which Judy would not speak of, which she was too brave to show sign or +whisper of, was making her body ill. If Hilda went to her darling, the +suffering would cease. Love would shine all round Judy's starved heart, +and she would soon be well and strong again.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is my manifest duty to go to her," whispered the wife to +herself. "I will go to Little Staunton and nurse her for a few days, and +when she is better she must come to London and live with me. Jasper +won't like it—I know he won't like it, but he has really nothing to +complain of, for I told him from the very first what Judy was to me. +Yes, I must go, but I wish—I do wish that the train for Little Staunton +left Waterloo at six instead of seven. I should be well on my journey +before Jasper came back. Oh, Jasper, my darling, why do I say words of +this sort, as if I were—as if I could be—afraid of you!"</p> + +<p>Hilda dipped her pen into the ink and wrote the first words of her +letter.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span></p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="noi">"<span class="smcap">My Dearest Husband</span>:</p> + +<p>"When you read this you will be surprised—"</p> + +<p>A rather crooked dash of her pen finished this sentence—she was +startled by a quick double knock at the front door. A moment later +Susan, the neat maidservant, brought in a telegram on a salver.</p> + +<p>"The boy is waiting to know if there is any answer," she said.</p> + +<p>Hilda tore open the yellow envelope; her eyes rested on the following +words:</p> + +<p>"Rivers will dine with us. Have everything nice, and expect me +home at 6.30.</p> + +<p class="right smcap">"Jasper."</p> +</div> + +<p>Mrs. Quentyns' first sensation was one of relief.</p> + +<p>"It is all right," she exclaimed, looking up at the servant, who was +startled at her mistress's pale cheeks. "I thought my little sister, +Miss Judy, was worse, but the telegram is from your master, Susan. Tell +the boy there is no answer, and send cook to me without a moment's +delay."</p> + +<p>Susan left the room, and Hilda slipped the telegram into her pocket. She +still felt only a sense of relief, and the first faint qualms as to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span>what Jasper would think of her sudden departure had not begun to visit +her. A knock was heard at the drawing-room door.</p> + +<p>"Come in, come in," said the young mistress. "Oh, cook," exclaimed +Hilda, "I have just had a telegram from your master. He is bringing a +gentleman home to dine. A rather particular gentleman, and we want a +specially nice dinner. I—I forget what I ordered this morning."</p> + +<p>The fat cook bestowed a pitying glance upon Hilda.</p> + +<p>"The boiled chicken was to be fricasseed, mum," she said, "and you +ordered me to open one of the tins of oxtail soup; there were to be +apple fritters afterward, and a cheese savory—that is all."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," said Hilda, putting her hand to her head, "that dinner would +have done very well for Mr. Quentyns and me, but we must make some +alterations now. You had better run round to the fishmonger's, cook, and +go to the butcher's, and order——"</p> + +<p>Hilda rushed to her davenport, scribbled some hasty directions on a +piece of paper, and handed them to the servant.</p> + +<p>"You must go this moment," she said, "it is six o'clock now; and please +call at the green-grocer's on your way back, and get a pound of <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span>bananas +and some Tangerine oranges. I will see that the wine is all right, and +speak to Susan about the table while you are out. Run, cook, run, at +once—things must look their <em>very</em> best, and be served in the best +possible manner for dinner to-night."</p> + +<p>The cook muttered something unintelligible, and by no means too well +pleased with her errand, departed.</p> + +<p>Hilda called Susan, and going into the dining room helped her to +decorate the table; then after impressing upon the neat little +parlor-maid the necessity of doing what she could to help cook in this +sudden emergency, she ran upstairs to put on her bonnet and jacket, for +the time had almost arrived when she must start on her journey. She had +just come downstairs when the click of the latch-key was heard, and +Jasper, in excellent spirits, entered the house.</p> + +<p>"Well, my love," he said, going up to his wife and kissing her; "oh, you +have been out!—did you get my telegram? I told Rivers we should not +dine until half-past seven, in order to give you plenty of time to +prepare. Perhaps you have been ordering some things for dinner, Hilda; +that is right, and just what I should have expected of you. I am +particularly anxious that Rivers should see that I have got the +sweetest, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span>prettiest, and best little wife and housekeeper in the +world."</p> + +<p>For some reason which she could not explain, even to herself, Hilda felt +her tongue tied. She returned her husband's kiss, and when he entered +the tiny dining room she followed him.</p> + +<p>"Very nice, very nice," he exclaimed, looking with approval at the +dinner-table, which was charmingly decorated with pink Liberty silk and +white flowers. "But what is this?" he added suddenly, "there are only +two places laid. One for you and one for me. We must ring for Susan at +once—I think Rivers would rather sit at the side, away from the fire."</p> + +<p>"I—Jasper, I want to tell you something."</p> + +<p>"What is it? how pale you are, darling!"</p> + +<p>"I want to tell you something," repeated Hilda; "I—I am not going to +dine with you to-night."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, my dear girl—are you ill? what can be the matter?"</p> + +<p>"I am not ill, but Judy is—I am going down to Little Staunton. I have +telegraphed to them to expect me by the train due at 9.40, and it is +time for me to go. Is that you, Susan? Please would you order a hansom +at once?"</p> + +<p>Susan instantly left the room, closing the door behind her.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span>For nearly half a minute Quentyns was silent, a great wave of color had +rushed over his face, and it was with difficulty he could keep back some +annoyed and some sarcastic words. He was a man who prided himself on +having great self-control, and before he uttered his first sentence he +felt that he had recovered it.</p> + +<p>"You're trembling, dear," he said gently, "and you—you absolutely look +as if you were <em>afraid</em> of me. Come into the drawing room, love, and +tell me what is wrong with Judy. My <em>bête noire</em>, Judy! what has been +her last transgression?"</p> + +<p>"Jasper, don't, don't," said Hilda, in a voice of pain. "Judy is really +ill this time—she fainted in church on Sunday; she is in bed now, and +the doctor says she is very weak."</p> + +<p>"I suppose so, or she would not have fainted. I used constantly to faint +when I was a child—the slightest thing sent me off. I was not kept in +bed afterward, for children were not cockered up and fussed over when I +was young. My faint was generally traced to over-eating. If you must go +down to see Judy, I don't wish to prevent you, Hilda, but why go +to-night?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Jasper, I must—I must run away this instant too, for I hear the +cab—I telegraphed to say I would go."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span>Jasper put on a new stubborn look which Hilda had never seen before.</p> + +<p>"I don't wish to coerce you," he said, in a cold voice, "you're +perfectly free to act as you think right in the matter. I can go down +with you by an early train in the morning, or you can go by yourself +now, and put me to extreme inconvenience. You're at liberty to choose."</p> + +<p>"Don't speak like that, Jasper, you pain me so dreadfully."</p> + +<p>"I fail to see how I am paining you, I am giving you a free choice. You +can be with Judy before noon to-morrow, or you can go immediately."</p> + +<p>"I sent a telegram to her to expect me; it is so bad for sick children +to be kept waiting."</p> + +<p>"So it seems. Yes, Susan, tell the cab to wait."</p> + +<p>Susan left the room, and heavy tears gathered in Hilda's eyes.</p> + +<p>"Can I send another telegram?" she asked weakly.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe you can, the telegraph office will be closed at Little +Staunton. Never mind, Hilda, you had better go; I am disappointed, +annoyed, of course, but what of that? What is a husband to a sick +sister? Go, my dear, or you will miss your train!"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span>"No, I won't go," said Hilda; "you have made it impossible for me to +go. I'll stay and entertain your guest, and Judy will suffer. Yes; don't +kiss me just now, Jasper; I think you are cruel, but I'll stay."</p> + +<p>Hilda went over to the bell and rang it.</p> + +<p>Susan answered the summons.</p> + +<p>"Give the cabman this shilling," said Mrs. Quentyns, "and tell him that +he is not required."</p> + +<p>"You have done quite right, my love," said Quentyns, "and when you have +got over your first little feeling of annoyance you will see the matter +in the same light that I do. I'll telegraph to Little Staunton early in +the morning to tell them to expect us by the 11.35 train. Of course Judy +would have been asleep hours before you reached her to-night, so it does +not really matter in the least. Now come upstairs and put on your very +prettiest dress, that soft pink <em>chiffon</em>, in which you look as like a +rosebud as a living woman can. I have capital news for you, Hilda, my +love; Rivers certainly is a brick; he has got me to act as counsel +in——"</p> + +<p>Quentyns talked on in his satisfied, joyous tones. He had won the +victory, and could afford to be very gracious and generous. Hilda felt +as if a band of iron had closed round her heart. She was too gentle and +sweet in her <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span>nature to be long angry with her husband. Her face was a +little paler than usual, however, and her eyes had a weary look in them.</p> + +<p>Rivers, who was a very keen observer of human nature, noticed the silent +depression which hung over her, but Hilda's husband failed to observe +it.</p> + +<p>"I can easily manage her," he muttered to himself; "it would have been +beyond all reason to have had her absent from our first little dinner +just because a child had fainted. Pshaw!—I can see that Hilda is going +to be painfully fanciful; it all comes from having lived so long in the +wilds of the country. Well, I'll take her down to Little Staunton +to-morrow, and be specially good to her, but she must get over these +absurdities about Judy, or life will not be worth living."</p> + +<p>The dinner was a success, and Hilda looked lovely. A certain dreamy and +far-away expression in her eyes added the final touch to her beauty. +When the men sat together over their wine, Rivers spoke of her in tones +of rapture.</p> + +<p>"You're the luckiest fellow in Christendom, Jasper," he said; and Jasper +Quentyns, who looked up to Tom Rivers as the first of men, felt almost +unduly elated.</p> + +<p>"The lines had fallen unto him in pleasant <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span>places," so he muttered, and +he forgot all about a sick and troublesome child, who at this very +instant was counting the moments as they flew by, in her tired and weary +eagerness to clasp her arms round Hilda's neck. Hilda, too, in the +drawing room, was shedding silent tears, but what did that matter? for +Jasper knew nothing about them.</p> + +<p>Jasper and Hilda were both musical, and Tom Rivers liked nothing better +than to listen to their voices as they sang duet after duet together. +The songs they sung were full of noble sentiment. Their voices mingled +until they almost sounded like one rich and perfect note, as they sang +of love which is undying and self-sacrifice which is ennobling. Quentyns +felt a glow of elation filling his breast as his eyes rested on his +lovely wife, and the tormentings of Hilda's conscience were soothed, and +she too partly forgot Judy.</p> + +<p>Breakfast was served at an early hour next morning at Philippa Terrace, +and Quentyns and his wife started for Little Staunton in time to catch +the early train.</p> + +<p>They arrived at the small way-side station not more than twenty minutes +beyond the appointed time, and were met by Miss Mills, who was driving +the village pony cart herself.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span>The governess addressed Hilda in a calm voice, but her inward +excitement was very manifest. Jasper had talked cheerfully all the way +down to Little Staunton, but Hilda had been almost silent. She felt +oppressed—she dreaded she knew not what. Now, when she looked into Miss +Mills' face, she felt her own turn pale.</p> + +<p>"No, don't speak," she said, in a hoarse whisper. "I <em>know</em> you have bad +news, but don't tell me now, not until we get home."</p> + +<p>"Get in," said Miss Mills, "I won't be long driving you to the Rectory. +It is rather important for you to be there, and as the trap only holds +two, perhaps Mr. Quentyns won't mind walking."</p> + +<p>"Not at all," said Jasper, in his pleasant, calm voice. "Can you make +room for our portmanteau at your feet, Miss Mills? Ah, yes, that will do +nicely. By the way, how are you all? has Judy quite recovered from her +faint?"</p> + +<p>When Quentyns asked this question Miss Mills bent suddenly forward under +the pretense of trying to arrange the portmanteau.</p> + +<p>"We won't be any time getting to the Rectory," she said, turning to +Hilda; she touched the pony with her whip as she spoke and they started +forward.</p> + +<p>"It was such a pity you didn't come last <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span>night," said the governess, as +they entered the Rectory gates.</p> + +<p>"I—I could not help it," murmured poor Hilda. With one hand she was +tightly grasping the edge of the little basket-carriage.</p> + +<p>"Stop, there is father," she exclaimed suddenly. "Let me go to him. I—I +can bear him to tell me if there is anything wrong."</p> + +<p>In an instant she reached the Rector's side. Her arms were round his +neck, her head on his shoulder, and she was sobbing her heart out on his +breast.</p> + +<p>"My dearest Hilda, my darling!" exclaimed her father. "What is the +meaning of all this? Why are you so dreadfully unhappy, my child?"</p> + +<p>"Tell me, father, I can bear it from you. Is she—is she dead?"</p> + +<p>"Is who dead?"</p> + +<p>"Ju—Judy."</p> + +<p>"No; what has put that into your head? But your little sister is very +ill, Hilda. I am not so much alarmed about her as your Aunt Marjorie is, +but I confess her state puzzles me. I saw Dr. Harvey to-day, and I don't +think he is satisfied either. It seems that for some reason the child +was over-excited last night—there was difficulty in getting her off to +sleep, and she cried in a very distressing and painful way. I <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span>was +obliged to sit with her myself. I held her hand, poor little darling, +and had a prayer with her, and—toward morning she dropped off into a +sleep."</p> + +<p>"And," continued Hilda, "she was better when she awoke, wasn't she? Do +say she was, father. You showed her Jasper's telegram the very instant +she awoke, and of course she got much better immediately."</p> + +<p>"My dear Hilda, the strange thing about Judy has yet to be told; she has +not awakened—she is still asleep, and this prolonged and unnatural +sleep disturbs Dr. Harvey a good deal."</p> + +<p>"I had better go to her at once, father. I think the doctor <em>must</em> be +mistaken in thinking sleep bad. When Judy sees me sitting by her bedside +she will soon cheer up and get like her old self. I'll run to her now, +father: I don't feel half so much alarmed since you tell me that she is +only asleep."</p> + +<p>The Rector gave vent to a troubled sigh; Hilda put wings to her feet, +and with the lightness and grace of a bird sped toward the house.</p> + +<p>"Hilda, Hilda!" called her husband. He had taken a short cut across some +fields, and was now entering the Rectory domain. He thought it would be +quite the correct thing for his wife to wait for him. Surely she would +like to enter <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span>her family circle with him by her side. "Hilda, stop!" he +cried, and he hurried his own footsteps.</p> + +<p>But if Hilda heard she did not heed. She rushed on, and soon disappeared +from view inside the deep portico of the old house.</p> + +<p>Two or three moments later she was sitting without her hat and jacket, +and with a pair of noiseless house-slippers on her feet, by Judy's +bedside.</p> + +<p>All the preparations which had been made with such care and pains by +Babs the night before were still making the nursery look pretty. The +little china animals sat in many funny groups on the mantelpiece. The +white and blue violets lay in a large bowl on a table by Judy's side. +One of the little sleeper's hands was thrown outside the counterpane. +Hilda touched it, and found that it burned with a queer, uncomfortable +dry heat.</p> + +<p>"But how quietly she is sleeping," said Mrs. Quentyns, looking up with +tears in her eyes at Aunt Marjorie; "why are you so solemn and +sad?—surely this sleep must be good for her."</p> + +<p>"My dear, Dr. Harvey calls Judy's state more stupor than sleep. He says +the most extraordinary things about the child ... that she has been +over-excited and subjected to a severe <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span>mental strain, and he fears +mischief to the brain. But surely he must be wrong, for nothing <em>could</em> +exceed the quiet of our life at the Rectory since the money has gone and +you have left us, and no one could have been less excited in her ways +than Judy has been since your marriage. I can't make out what Dr. Harvey +means."</p> + +<p>"I think I partly understand," said Hilda; her voice had a choking +sound. "Don't talk so loud, Aunt Marjorie," she said impatiently; "you +will wake her—you will disturb her."</p> + +<p>"But that is what we wish," interrupted the old lady. "The doctor says +we must do everything in our power to rouse her. Ah, and here he comes; +he will speak for himself."</p> + +<p>"I am glad to see you, Mrs. Quentyns," said Dr. Harvey. "Your not coming +last night when the child expected you was a grave mistake, but better +late than never."</p> + +<p>He stopped speaking then, and bent over the little sleeper.</p> + +<p>"Draw up the blind," he said to Aunt Marjorie, "let us have all the +light we can. Now don't be frightened, Mrs. Quentyns—I am not going to +hurt the child, but I must examine her eyes."</p> + +<p>Hilda felt as if she could scarcely restrain a stifled scream as the +doctor lifted first one lid <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span>and then the other, and looked into the +dark depths of the sweet eyes.</p> + +<p>"The child has got a shock," he said then. "I feared it when I called +early this morning. I don't say for a moment that she will not get +better, but her state is very precarious. I should like you to nurse her +altogether, Mrs. Quentyns; much depends on her seeing you by her side +when she wakes."</p> + +<p>"I shall never leave her again," said Hilda, in a stifled tone.</p> + +<p>The doctor's practiced ear caught the suppressed hysteria in her voice.</p> + +<p>"Come, come," he said cheerily, "you have nothing to blame yourself for. +The little one has evidently felt your absence in a remarkable manner."</p> + +<p>"Really, doctor, you are quite mistaken," began Aunt Marjorie. "What I +principally noticed about Judy was her great quietness and docility +since Hilda left. She scarcely spoke of her sister, and seemed content +to sit by my side and read fairy stories. She used to be such a very +excitable, troublesome sort of child. If you ask me frankly, I think +Hilda's absence did her good."</p> + +<p>The doctor looked from the old lady to the young.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span>"I must adhere to my first opinion," he said. "The child has missed her +sister. Now that you have come, Mrs. Quentyns, we will hope for the +best."</p> + +<p>He went out of the room as he spoke, and Aunt Marjorie followed him.</p> + +<p>Hilda dropped on her knees by Judy's cot.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my God, forgive me," she cried, in a broken anguished prayer. "I +did wrong to leave my little Judy. Oh, God, only spare her life, and I +will vow to you that <em>whatever</em> happens she shall never leave me in the +time to come. Whatever happens," repeated Hilda, in a choking voice of +great agony. Then she rose and took her place beside the child's bed.</p> + +<p>A couple of hours passed by. The door was softly opened, and Quentyns +stole into the room. He had been very much shocked by the doctor's +account of the child, and his face and tone expressed real sympathy as +he came up to Hilda.</p> + +<p>"Poor little Judy!" he said, bending over her. "What a queer excitable +little mite it is."</p> + +<p>Hilda beat her foot impatiently.</p> + +<p>"Well, my darling," continued Quentyns, not noticing his wife's +suppressed agitation, "she will soon be all right now you have come. +Lunch is ready, Hilda, and you must be weak <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span>for want of food. Come, +dearest, let me take you down to the dining room."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, Jasper! I can't leave Judy; and please, please don't talk so +loud."</p> + +<p>"The doctor does not wish her to be kept <em>too</em> quiet, Hilda; and surely, +my dear, you are not going to starve yourself!"</p> + +<p>"Aunt Marjorie will send me something to the dressing room; I can't be +away from Judy even for one minute. There is no saying when she will +awake, and I must be with her when she does."</p> + +<p>Quentyns smothered an impatient exclamation. After a pause he said +gently:</p> + +<p>"As you please, dear; I will bring something up myself to the dressing +room for you," and he stole on tip-toe out of the room.</p> + +<p>Nothing could be more patient than his manner, and Hilda reproached +herself for the feeling of irritation which his presence gave her.</p> + +<p>There came a sigh from the bed—the faintest of sounds; Mrs. Quentyns +turned her head quickly, and saw to her rapture that Judy's big +greeny-gray eyes were wide open and fixed earnestly on her face. There +was no surprise in the pretty eyes, nor any additional color in the pale +little face.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span>"Hilda," said Judy, "I <em>thought</em> it was only a bad dream—you never +went away, did you?"</p> + +<p>"I am never going to leave you again, Judy," replied her sister; "never, +never, as long as we both live. I vow—I promise—nothing shall part us, +nothing except death."</p> + +<p>Hilda flung herself on her knees by the child's bed, and burst into +hysterical sobs.</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> +<a name="ring" id="ring"></a>CHAPTER XII.<br /> + +<small>HILDA'S ENGAGEMENT RING.</small></h2> + +<div class="block"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">My heart is heavy for scorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mine eyes with impatient tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But heaven looks blue through the cherry-blooms,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And preaches away my fears.<br /></span></div></div> +<p class="smcap right">—Emily Pfeiffer.</p> +</div> + + +<p>Contrary to the doctor's fears, and in accordance with Hilda's hopes, +Judy grew better. A weight had been lifted from her heart—her starved +affections were nourished and soothed once more. Hilda scarcely ever +left her room, and Hilda's presence was perpetual sunshine to the child.</p> + +<p>No one could possibly have behaved better than Quentyns did during this +trying time. A certain feeling of compunction had visited him when he +discovered how real Judy's illness was. He was assailed by a momentary +pricking of his conscience, but as the little girl quickly grew better, +and was soon pronounced by the doctor to be quite out of danger, it was +but natural that an active man of the world like Quentyns should wish to +return to town, should find the quiet <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span>Rectory simply unendurable, and +also that he should wish to take his young wife with him.</p> + +<p>The Quentyns arrived at Staunton Rectory on a certain Wednesday, and on +the following Sunday evening Quentyns thought the time had arrived for +him to speak to Hilda about their return to town. He had not seen much +of her during the days which had intervened, and he was obliged now to +send Babs with a message to Judy's room to ask his wife to come to him.</p> + +<p>Hilda was reading aloud to Judy when Babs entered the room, and said in +her important, calm way:</p> + +<p>"Jasper wants you, Hilda, and you are to go to him this minute."</p> + +<p>Hilda could read beautifully, and Judy had lain in a dream of rapture, +listening to the beloved voice as it told the old story of Christian and +his pilgrimage. Now the wistful, distressed look crept back into her +face.</p> + +<p>"Never mind, dear," said Hilda, bending forward and kissing the child. +"I shall not be long away."</p> + +<p>Quentyns was waiting for his wife in the large conservatory which opened +into the drawing room. It was nearly empty of flowers and plants now, +but was still a pleasant place to lounge about in.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span>"Well, my love," he said in his pleasant tone. "Why, how pale you look, +Hilda. I am not going to scold you, darling—oh, no, not for the world; +but I haven't got too much of your society during these last few days. I +don't blame you, and I am not jealous; but if you <em>could</em> spare me half +an hour now, there are one or two things I want to talk over with you."</p> + +<p>"Of course I can spare you half an hour, Jasper, or an hour for that +matter, if you want it," replied Hilda cheerfully. "Judy is much, much +better to-night, and I am feeling quite happy about her."</p> + +<p>Hilda slipped her hand through her husband's arm as she spoke; he gave +the little hand an affectionate squeeze and drew his wife close to his +side.</p> + +<p>"I am glad Judy is better," he said. "What I have to propose will be +quite convenient then, Hilda. I want to go back to town by the first +train in the morning. I have heard from Rivers, and——What is it, my +love? You really do look very pale. You are overdoing yourself, and I +cannot allow it. Now that Judy is better you must rest. I shall get Dr. +Pettifer to look you up and give you a tonic when we get back to town."</p> + +<p>"Stop, Jasper," said Hilda suddenly. "I am <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span>not tired nor worn out in +any way. I look pale now because my heart beats—because——Jasper, I +cannot go to town with you to-morrow. I know you must go; of course, I +quite understand that; but I am not going—not until Judy is well enough +to be moved."</p> + +<p>Quentyns did not reply for several seconds, then he said in a gentle +tone, which did not betray an atom of his true feeling:</p> + +<p>"I half expected you to say something of this sort, Hilda; I cannot +pretend that I am not sorry. The fine weather is coming on; the London +season will soon be at its height. I do not mean for a moment to imply +that we can avail ourselves of what is termed a season in town, but for +a poor and struggling man it is essential that he should leave no stone +unturned to introduce himself to those persons who can and will help +him. The influential sort of people who can materially assist me in my +career are now in London, Hilda. You, my darling, are an excuse for many +valuable introductions. You see, therefore, that not alone from an +affectionate point of view you ought now to be with me. But," continued +Jasper, looking straight ahead of him, and fixing his fine, intelligent +eyes on the distant landscape, "I waive all that. I understand that you +do not wish to leave Judy until <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span>she is fit to be moved to the seaside. +If she maintains the progress she is now making, Dr. Harvey will +probably allow Aunt Marjorie to take her away at the end of the week. I +shall have you home on Saturday at the latest, Hilda."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Hilda. "I hope so, but—but, Jasper, you still fail to +understand me. When Judy goes away, she is not going to the seaside—she +is coming with me to London—to Philippa Terrace. It is a promise, and +I—I won't—I can't go back from it. I stand or fall by my promise, +Jasper—I wish to say so now once for all."</p> + +<p>"You stand or fall by your promise!" repeated Quentyns. "What an +extraordinary remark. One would suppose, my darling, that I was an ogre +or the worst sort of tyrant. I always told you that Judy should come to +stay with us for a few weeks when we had a room to receive her in. If +matters progress as satisfactorily as I hope, we shall have a snug, +prettily furnished, little spare room by the end of the present season. +I promise you, Hilda, that Judy shall be its first tenant."</p> + +<p>Hilda laid her hand with a sort of trembling, nervous impatience, on her +husband's arm.</p> + +<p>"I have made a mistake—I have been a coward," <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span>she said. "Even now, +Jasper, you don't a bit understand me. Long ago, when mother died, she +left Judy in my charge. I ought never to have married and left her. Judy +is not an ordinary child, and she suffered. When I went away her heart +was starved. She could not live with a starved heart. In my absence, my +little Judy nearly died. She is better now—she is recovering because I +am with her. I am never going to leave her again while she lives."</p> + +<p>"Hilda, what nonsense you talk," said Quentyns, with temper in his tone. +"If Judy lives to grow up, she will marry like other girls—and will +leave you of her own accord."</p> + +<p>"If she does," replied Hilda, "that alters the case, but until she +leaves me by her own wish or marries, she is in my charge. I will not be +parted from her, Jasper. I shall not return to Philippa Terrace until I +can bring her with me."</p> + +<p>"Is that really your final decision?" said Quentyns—he turned round now +and looked at his wife; his face was very cold, its expression carefully +veiled. He was intensely anxious not to show even a trace of ill-temper. +His words were guarded. "Is that your final decision, Hilda?" he said, +and there was a fine withering sort of sarcasm in his voice. "Do you +mean seriously to desert the husband you married not <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span>three months ago +for the sake of a child's whim? Is that the way you keep your marriage +vow?"</p> + +<p>"No, no, Jasper! I want to be true to you both. I made two vows, and I +want to keep them both. Help me, Jasper; I am not a bit a strong-minded +girl, I am just very loving. My heart is full of love to you and to +Judy. Help me to do this—help me to love you both, to serve you both. +Go back to town to-morrow and furnish the spare room, and I will bring +Judy back with me on Friday or Saturday."</p> + +<p>"I said I should not run in debt. I have no more money to spend on +furniture at present. You don't really care for me, Hilda, or you would +never speak as you do. But, once for all, I will not be drawn into a +path which simply means ruin for the sake of any woman, and for the +ridiculous fancies of any child. I will buy no furniture until I can pay +for it. That ends the matter, my dear. If you are determined to stay at +the Rectory for the summer, they will all, I am sure, be charmed to have +you, and I will try and run down as often as I can. I need not say that +I think you are making a most grave mistake, but a willful woman must +e'en have her way, I suppose. Ah, and here comes the Rector, he has just +returned from evening service."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span>Quentyns went toward the door of the conservatory, which he flung open. +Mr. Merton was just entering his drawing room.</p> + +<p>"One moment, Jasper—one moment," said Hilda; she rushed after her +husband, her face was like death, her eyes were blazing with passion.</p> + +<p>"Your cruel words make anything possible," she said. "I made two vows +before God, and I will keep them both. There, this was costly, I +presume. You spent money on it—sell it again, and buy the furniture +that you will not go in debt for."</p> + +<p>She thrust her engagement ring into Quentyns' hand and rushed away.</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> +<a name="room" id="room"></a>CHAPTER XIII.<br /> + +<small>JUDY'S ROOM.</small></h2> + +<div class="block"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">An ear that waits to catch<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A hand upon the latch.<br /></span></div></div> +<p class="right smcap">—Dora Greenwell.</p> +</div> + + +<p>"Here is a letter from Jasper, Hilda darling," said Aunt Marjorie, +coming into Judy's bedroom two or three days after the events mentioned +in the last chapter. "I know the hand-writing, dear. How strong and +manly it looks. I do love a manly hand, don't you?"</p> + +<p>Hilda did not reply. She rose from her seat by Judy's side, and taking +her husband's letter, walked to the window, and, standing with her back +to the light, opened it eagerly. Her face was a little pale and worn, +and her eyes had tired lines under them. No one had noticed any change +in her, however. Judy was fast recovering—each day her spirits rose, +her appetite improved, her strength grew greater. She was to be taken +into Hilda's old boudoir to-day, and Babs was importantly moving the +beloved china <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span>animals, arranging flowers, and getting the room ready +for the great event.</p> + +<p>Aunt Marjorie, after her usual fashion, fussed over Judy while Hilda +read her letter. It was brief, but somehow it gave the young wife +unexpected hope and pleasure:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="noi">"<span class="smcap">My Dearest Wife</span>: +</p> + +<p>"Pray forgive me for not writing sooner, but I have been +exceedingly busy since I returned to town, and have dined each +night with Rivers at his club. I send a hasty line now to say +that you can bring Judy back to Philippa Terrace whenever she is +strong enough to be moved, as I have given Shoolbred full +directions with regard to furnishing the spare room, and have +just had a letter from him to say the goods will be delivered +to-day.</p> + +<p>"Pray don't tire yourself more than is necessary. And believe +me,</p> + +<p class="right">Your affectionate husband,</p> +<p class="smcap right">"Jasper Quentyns."</p> +</div> + +<p>"Judy," said Hilda—she turned eagerly, the old lovely color mantling +her cheeks, and the brightness of hope filling her eyes. "Isn't Jasper +good, Judy? I have just heard from him—he says the furniture is coming +in for your room to-day. We can go back to town as soon <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span>as ever Dr. +Harvey thinks you strong enough to be moved, my pet."</p> + +<p>"Which won't be this week," interrupted Aunt Marjorie. "It would be the +sheerest madness. Has Jasper proposed such a thing, Hilda? If so, I can +only say how like a man. In about a fortnight, this dear child may be +the better for change of air.... I have no doubt too that Dr. Harvey +will be pleased to have a London opinion about her. There may be a +weakness of the heart's action. I never am easy about people who faint +off suddenly. Now, Judy, why do you flush up? you know you oughtn't to +listen when Auntie talks to Hilda about you. Go on reading your pretty +story book, my love. Yes, Hilda, I should like the child to see a +first-class physician. You know your mother's heart was not strong. He +will doubtless order cod-liver oil, but for my part I prefer cream."</p> + +<p>"I know something better than cream for Judy—don't I, my pet?" said +Hilda, turning to her little sister with her bright smile.</p> + +<p>"And so do I," replied Judy. "Oh, Hilda, to think of living with you in +your own little house! Oh, Hilda, I'm <em>too</em> happy—I am so happy that my +heart aches. It aches with pleasure."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span>Judy's thin arms were flung round her sister's neck. Her lips pressed +Hilda's soft young cheek, her eyes looked into Hilda's. It seemed to +them both at that moment that soul answered to soul.</p> + +<p>"Now what nonsense this is," said Aunt Marjorie in her fussy tones. +"Judy, I hope Hilda is not going to encourage you in silly sentimental +talk of that kind. You say your heart aches with pleasure. Really, my +dear, I have no patience to listen to you. I should like to know what a +child like you knows about heart-aches—you, who have been brought up in +what I may call the very lap of luxury. For, Hilda, I have made it the +object of my life ever since poverty came to us, to prevent even the +slightest shadow of its wings touching the children. They have had their +excellent governess, and their warm schoolroom and snug bedroom. I cut +down one of my own fur cloaks to give them really nice winter jackets, +and I took special care that the schoolroom table should be as liberal +as ever. It is impossible, therefore, for me to understand Judy's silly +words about her heart aching."</p> + +<p>Aunt Marjorie left the room, and Judy still softly rubbed her cheek +against Hilda's.</p> + +<p>"But my heart did ache," she said after a pause—"it aches with joy now, +and it did ache—oh, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span>it kept crying, it felt starved without you, +Hilda."</p> + +<p>"I understand—yes, I understand," replied Hilda.</p> + +<p>"You don't mind what Aunt Marjorie says then?"</p> + +<p>"Not about you, my own little love."</p> + +<p>"Hilda, I did really try very, very hard not to fret."</p> + +<p>"The effort was too much for you, my Judy; but never mind, the pain and +the parting are all over now. Isn't it kind of your new brother—isn't +it kind of dear, dear Jasper—to get the nice little room furnished and +ready for you, darling?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Hilda. Has he gone in debt for the furniture? You told me long ago +that the room would have been furnished and that I should have come to +you, but there was no money left, and Jasper would not go in debt. Has +he really gone in debt now, just to please me?"</p> + +<p>"No, my love, no—we have managed. You must not ask inquisitive +questions. All is right now, and we shall be very happy together."</p> + +<p>Dr. Harvey was highly pleased, when he heard that his little patient was +going to London with her sister. He was a man with plenty of +observation, and he could read between the lines <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span>much better than poor +obtuse old Aunt Marjorie.</p> + +<p>"You are the right physician for your little sister, Mrs. Quentyns," he +said. "I prophesy that Miss Judy will become perfectly strong and well +in a short time under your care. Yes, there will be nothing to prevent +her traveling to town on Saturday next, if you really wish it. The +weather is extraordinarily mild for the time of year, and a change will +do Judy more good than anything else."</p> + +<p>Hilda wrote a joyful letter to her husband that day.</p> + +<p>"You are to expect us both on Saturday," she said. "Oh, Jasper, how +happy your letter has made me. How good—how really good you are. Please +forgive me if I was a little hasty with you the other evening. I know +you will never regret, darling husband, helping me to keep both my +vows—the vow I made to you, and the vow I made mother. No one ever had +a more loving wife than I shall prove to you, and no one ever had a +dearer little sister than you will find my Judy when you really know +her."</p> + +<p>"Her Judy, indeed!" murmured Quentyns, when he read his wife's letter at +his breakfast-table on the following morning. "Tiresome <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span>little +piece—she'll never be <em>my</em> Judy, however much she may be Hilda's. Well, +I suppose I must make the best of a bad job, but if I had known +beforehand that that wretched sentimental child was to be tacked on to +us, I'd have thought twice.... No, I wouldn't though, I love Hilda well +enough to bear some inconvenience for her sake; but if she thinks this +step will really add to our happiness, she'll soon find her mistake. +Fancy her asking me to sell her engagement ring! I can never get over +that. Things can't be quite the same again—it's impossible. Well, well, +more than one friend has told me I'd wake from my dream of bliss some +day. I have, with a vengeance—it has been something of a shock too. +Heigho! I am not going to <em>look</em> like defeat, anyhow. Of course, too, +I'll be just the same to Hilda outwardly. Ah, there's Susan—I'd better +speak to her and get her to tell cook. This is Thursday—they'll be here +in two days."</p> + +<p>"Susan," as the neat parlor-maid entered the room, "I have had a letter +from your mistress. She is coming home on Saturday, and will bring +little Miss Merton with her. Have the things come from Shoolbred's yet?"</p> + +<p>"The furniture, sir, for the spare room? Yes, it arrived yesterday, and +the man is coming to <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span>lay down the carpet and put up the curtains this +morning."</p> + +<p>"Well, Susan, you get the room ready, and have the bed well aired, and +tell me if there's anything more wanted—the child has been ill, and +she'll require every comfort. Mrs. Quentyns will wish the room to look +as nice as possible. I know nothing about these matters—see to it, +Susan, will you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; you may depend on me and cook to do everything right——"</p> + +<p>"And tell cook about your mistress. Let me see, they'll be home between +five and six on Saturday evening. I shan't dine at home to-night, and if +a telegram comes for me, I want you to wire to my city address. This is +it."</p> + +<p>Quentyns left the house, and Susan and the cook spent a busy day in +dusting, polishing, sweeping, and cleaning.</p> + +<p>The little spare room looked very sweet and bright with the simple tasty +furniture which Quentyns had chosen. The small bed was inviting in its +white draperies. The furniture, painted in artistic greens, had a cool +and young effect. The room looked like a child's room, and Susan and +cook were in ecstasies over its appearance.</p> + +<p>"Master <em>'ave</em> taste and no mistake," said <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span>cook. "But why don't he come +and look for 'isself at all we have done, Susan? So natty as everything +looks, and the furniture master's taste and all. Won't missis be +pleased! But why don't he come and say what he thinks of how we has put +the things, Susan?"</p> + +<p>"Never you mind," said Susan. "Master knows as the arranging of +furniture is woman's province—there's no fussing in him, and that's +what I likes him for."</p> + +<p>Saturday arrived in due time, and the little house in Philippa Terrace +was in apple-pie order.</p> + +<p>As Quentyns was leaving for town that morning, Susan waylaid him.</p> + +<p>"What hour shall I tell my missis that we may expect you home, sir?" she +asked. "Mrs. Quentyns and the little lady will be here by six, and the +very first thing my missis will ask is, when you are coming in."</p> + +<p>"Say," began Quentyns—he paused. "I'll write a line," he said; "you can +give it to your mistress. I shan't be in to dinner to-night, and cook +had better prepare tea for Mrs. Quentyns and Miss Merton, with fish or +chops or something of that sort. I'll write a line—I'm glad you +reminded me, Susan."</p> + +<p>Quentyns went into his tiny little study, and wrote a few hasty words.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> +"<span class="smcap">Dear Hilda</span>: I have some important work to get through to-night, +and shall not be back early. I have the latch-key, so no one +need sit up. I shall dine at the club with Rivers. Go to bed +early if you are tired.</p> + +<p class="right">"Your Affectionate Husband."</p> +</div> + +<p>This letter was handed to Hilda on her arrival. She was too excited and +too interested in getting Judy into the house, and showing her all the +pleasant arrangements made for her comfort, to read it at first; but +when her tired little sister was safe in bed, and Hilda had seen her +enjoying a cup of tea, with some toast and a new-laid country egg, then +she took Jasper's note out of her pocket.</p> + +<p>She was in her own room, and she hesitated for a moment before she +opened it. She had a kind of premonition that there was pain in it. Her +home-coming had made her happy, and even while she was opening the +envelope of Jasper's letter she was listening for the click of his +latch-key in the hall-door lock.</p> + +<p>He was always home in good time on Saturdays, and surely he would make +extra haste to-night in order to give his wife and his little sister a +hearty welcome.</p> + +<p>Hilda's was the most forgiving nature in the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span>world. During that scene +in the conservatory at Little Staunton she had lost her temper with her +husband, but she felt quite sure now that her hasty words must be +forgotten. As she forgave absolutely, so would he. Why had he written to +her therefore? Why was he not here? She pulled the note out of its +envelope, and read the few words that it contained.</p> + +<p>It is not too much to say that her heart sank down, down, very low +indeed in her breast. She became conscious for the first time in her +life of that heart-hunger, that absolute starved sort of ache which had +so nearly wrecked Judy's little life. This was the first pang of pain, +but the ache was to go on and become worse presently.</p> + +<p>Hilda was a very patient sort of woman, however, and it did not occur to +her to cry out or make a fuss. She read the note twice, then put it into +her pocket and went downstairs.</p> + +<p>"Tell cook that I don't want any dinner," she said to Susan; "I will +have my tea upstairs with Miss Judy. Tell her not to get dinner, as Mr. +Quentyns is obliged to be out this evening."</p> + +<p>"Hilda," called Judy's weak little voice from out of her luxurious white +bed; "Hilda, do come here a minute."</p> + +<p>Hilda went immediately into the room.</p> + +<p>"I am so happy and so sleepy," said Judy. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span>"I'm like a bird in a +nest—oh, I am so snug. Jasper will be coming in presently, won't he, +Hilda? and you'll want to be with him. I shan't need you at all +to-night, Hilda darling; I'm going to sleep very soon, and I just sent +for you now to say that you mustn't come up to me after dinner—you must +stay with Jasper and let him amuse you. I am sure you want lots of +amusement after all the dull nursing you have had. Go and put on your +pretty dinner dress now, Hilda, and then come and look at me and say +good-night. I am so awfully happy, and I just want one kiss from you +before I go to sleep."</p> + +<p>"But you don't want to go to sleep yet, little puss," said Hilda, in her +most cheerful tone; "at least I hope you don't until I have had my tea. +I want to have my tea with you, darling, so I hope you don't mind +putting up with my company for a little longer."</p> + +<p>"As if I could mind—you know better. But, Hilda, if you have tea now +you won't be hungry for your dinner."</p> + +<p>Judy puckered her dark brows with anxiety.</p> + +<p>"I'm not going to have dinner."</p> + +<p>"You aren't—not really! then what will Jasper say?"</p> + +<p>"I've had a little letter from Jasper, darling; <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span>he is obliged to be out +late on business, and won't dine at home to-night. Ah, here comes Susan +with another new-laid egg for me, and some fresh toast. Now I am going +to have a delightful little supper in your company, Judy, and then I +shall settle you for the night."</p> + +<p>Hilda talked faster than was her wont; there was an additional +rose-color in her pretty cheeks, and a brighter light than usual in her +soft brown eyes. She laughed and jested and made merry over her egg and +toast.</p> + +<p>"How pretty you look!" said Judy, with a heart-whole sigh of admiration +and content.</p> + +<p>She saw nothing wrong, and Hilda kissed her and left the room a few +minutes later.</p> + +<p>She was still wearing her heavy traveling-dress, but after a moment's +reflection she went into her bedroom, and quickly changed it for a pale +silk dress of the softest shade of rose. This dress was a special +favorite of her husband's; he used to liken her to a rosebud in it, and +said that no color more truly matched the soft tender bloom of her young +face.</p> + +<p>Hilda put on the rose silk now, arranged her dark hair picturesquely, +and going downstairs to the little drawing room, occupied herself for an +hour or more in giving it some of those delicate touches which make the +difference between <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span>the mistress of the house being at home and away.</p> + +<p>It was a very warm evening for the time of year, but Hilda had a fire +lit in the grate. The shaded lamp shed a softened golden glow in its +accustomed corner of the room, and Jasper's favorite chair was placed +ready for his reception; then Hilda sank down into her own easy-chair, +and taking up a book, tried to read.</p> + +<p>Susan came presently into the room.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Susan," said her mistress, "I was about to ring for you. It has +struck ten o'clock; you and cook are to go to bed, please; I will wait +up for Mr. Quentyns."</p> + +<p>"If you please, ma'am," said Susan.</p> + +<p>She stopped and hesitated.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Susan?" answered Mrs. Quentyns, in a gentle interrogative tone.</p> + +<p>"If you please, ma'am, master has been very late coming home when you +was in the country—not till past midnight most nights."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Susan; but Mr. Quentyns will probably be in earlier +to-night, and I wish to remain up. Go to bed, and tell cook to do the +same. Oh, and please, I should like Miss Judy to have a cup of tea +brought to her room at eight to-morrow morning. Good-night, Susan."</p> + +<p>The parlor-maid withdrew.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span>"And don't she look beautiful as a pictur," she muttered under her +breath. "Pore young lady, I doubt if she's pleased with master though. +Him staying away and all on the first night as she comes back. I +wouldn't set up for him ef I were her—no, that I wouldn't; I wouldn't +make so little of myself; but she's proud, too, is Mrs. Quentyns, and +she don't let on; no, not a bit. Well, I respect her for that, but I +misdoubt me if all is right atween that pair."</p> + +<p>Susan went upstairs to confide her suspicions to cook. They talked in +low whispers together, and wondered what the mystery could be which was +keeping Quentyns from his pretty wife's side.</p> + +<p>In the meantime, in the silent house the moments for the one anxious +watcher went slowly by. Her novel was not interesting—she let it fall +on her knees, and looking at the little clock on the mantelpiece, +counted the moments until eleven should strike. She quite expected that +Jasper would be home at eleven. It did not enter for a moment into her +calculations that he could be absent on this first night of her return +beyond that hour. When the eleven musical strokes sounded on the little +clock, and were echoed in many deeper booms from without, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span>she got up, +and opening the drawing-room door, stepped out into the little hall.</p> + +<p>Footsteps kept passing and passing in the street. Cabs kept rolling up +to other doors and rolling away again. Jasper must surely arrive at any +moment.</p> + +<p>Hilda softly opened the hall door, and standing on the steps, looked up +and down the gas-lit street. If Jasper were walking home he would see +her. The lamp light from within threw her slim figure into strong +relief. A man passing by stopped for an instant to look at her.</p> + +<p>Hilda shut the hall door hastily in fear and distress. The man had +looked as if he might say something rude. She returned to her little +drawing room, and sitting down by the dying fire stared fixedly into its +embers until her eyes were full of tears.</p> + +<p>Between twelve and one Quentyns let himself softly into the house with +his latch-key. He was immediately attracted by the light in the drawing +room, the door of which was slightly ajar. He came into the room at +once, to find Hilda lying back in her easy-chair, fast asleep. She was +looking pale—all her pretty roses had fled. Quentyns' first impulse was +to fold her in his arms in an embrace of absolute love and +reconciliation.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span>What a pity it is that we don't oftener yield to our first impulses, +for they are as a rule whispered to us by our good angels.</p> + +<p>Quentyns bent forward, and lightly, very lightly, touched the sleeper's +soft hair with his big hand. That touch was a caress, but it startled +Hilda, who woke up with a cry.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Jasper," she said, looking at him with alarm in her eyes, "you—you +are home! I didn't mean to go to sleep, and—what is it, Jasper?"</p> + +<p>"Kiss me, Hilda; I am glad you have returned," said Quentyns. "But +another night, if I should happen to be late, you must not sit up for +me—I hate being waited for."</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> +<a name="rift" id="rift"></a>CHAPTER XIV.<br /> + +<small>THE LITTLE RIFT.</small></h2> + +<div class="block"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No backward path; ah! no returning;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No second crossing that ripple's flow:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come to me now for the mist is burning:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Come ere it darkens; Ah, no; ah, no!<br /></span></div></div> +<p class="right smcap">Jean Ingelow.</p> +</div> + + +<p>Jasper Quentyns was quite certain that he was behaving admirably under +circumstances of a specially trying nature.</p> + +<p>Judy's advent in the house gave him no small annoyance. Hilda's behavior +about Judy, her fit of sudden passion, above all the relinquishing of +her engagement ring, had cut him to the quick. He was proud, sensitive, +and jealous; when, therefore, he could smile at Judy and chat in light +and pleasant tones to his wife, when he could remark on the furniture in +the spare room, and make many suggestions for the comfort of the little +sister-in-law whom he detested, he was under the impression that his +conduct was not only exemplary but Christian.</p> + +<p>It was true that he went out a good deal in the evenings, not taking +Hilda with him as had been <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span>his original intention, but leaving her at +home to enjoy the society of the child who had brought the first cloud +into his home.</p> + +<p>"I am going to dine out to-night, Hilda," he would say. "A man I know +particularly well has asked me. Afterward he and I may go to the theater +together. You won't mind of course being left, as you have Judy with +you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, dear!" she replied, on the first of these occasions; and when +Jasper came to say something of this sort two or three times a week, +Hilda's invariable gentle answer was always that she did not mind.</p> + +<p>Jasper was kind—kindness itself, and if she did feel just a trifle +afraid of him, and if she could not help knowing all over her heart that +the sun did not shine now for her, that there was a cloud between her +husband and herself, which she could neither brush away nor penetrate, +she made no outward sign of being anything different from the cheery and +affectionate Hilda of old. There were subjects now, however, which she +shrank from touching on in Jasper's presence. One of them was her +engagement ring, another the furniture in Judy's room. That ring she had +been told by more than one connoisseur was worth at least fifty pounds, +and Hilda was certain that the simple furniture which <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span>made Judy's +little room so bower-like and youthful could not have cost anything +approaching that sum. Still Jasper said nothing about giving her change +out of the money which he had spent, and Hilda feared to broach the +subject of the ring to him. Another topic which by a sort of instinct +she refrained from was Judy herself. When Jasper was in the house Hilda +was always glad when Judy retired to her own room. When the gay little +voice, happy now, and clear and sweet as a lark's, was heard singing +snatches of gay songs all over the house, if Jasper were there, Hilda +would carefully close the door of the room he was sitting in.</p> + +<p>"Not now, Judy darling," she would say, when the child bounded eagerly +into their presence. "Jasper is just going out—when he is out I will +attend to you. Go on with your drawing in the dining room until I come +to you, Judy."</p> + +<p>Judy would go away at once obedient and happy, but Hilda's face would +flush with anxiety, and her eyes would not meet her husband's. So +between each of these young people there was that wall of reserve which +is the sad beginning of love's departure; but Hilda, being the weaker of +the two and having less to occupy her thoughts, suffered more than +Jasper.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span>On a certain evening when Judy had been a happy resident of No. 10 +Philippa Terrace for over a month, Quentyns was about to leave his +office and to return home, when his friend Tom Rivers entered his room.</p> + +<p>"Have you any engagement for to-night, Quentyns?" he asked abruptly.</p> + +<p>"None," said Jasper, visible relief on his face, for he was beginning to +dislike the evenings which he spent with a wife who always had a sense +of constraint over her, and with the knowledge that Judy's presence was +only tolerated when he was by. "I am at your service, Tom," said Jasper. +"Do you want me to go anywhere with you?"</p> + +<p>Rivers was a great deal older than Quentyns, he was a very clever and +practical man of the world. He looked now full at Jasper. He had not +failed to observe the eager relief on his friend's face when he asked if +he had any engagement. To a certain extent Jasper had made Rivers his +confidant. He had told him that Hilda's little sister, who had been so +ill and had given them all such a fright, was staying now at Philippa +Terrace.</p> + +<p>Rivers shrewdly guessed that Hilda's little sister was scarcely a +welcome guest, as far as Quentyns was concerned. Rivers had taken a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span>fancy to pretty Mrs. Quentyns. With a quick mental survey he saw again +the picture of the young wife on the night when he had dined at Philippa +Terrace.</p> + +<p>"She did not look perfectly happy," he thought. "I hope Quentyns is good +to her. I seldom saw a more charming face than hers, but with such eyes, +so full of expression, so full of that sort of dumb, dog-like +affectionateness, she must, she will suffer horribly if there comes a +cloud between her husband and herself. Quentyns is the best of fellows, +but he can be dogged and obstinate—I hope to goodness there's nothing +up in that pretty little home of theirs."</p> + +<p>Aloud Rivers said abruptly, "I had thought of asking you to dine at the +club with me, and then we might have gone to see Irving in <em>Henry +VIII.</em>,—a friend has given me two stalls,—but on second thoughts I can +dispose of those tickets. What I should really like best is to come home +with you, Quentyns, and have the pleasure of another chat with your +wife. I want to hear you both sing too—I seldom heard two voices better +suited to go together. May I invite myself to dinner to-night, Jasper?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, certainly," said Jasper, after a moment's awkward hesitation. "I'll +just wire to Hilda, if you don't mind."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span>"Not at all," said Rivers; "but remember, I am coming to take +pot-luck."</p> + +<p>Jasper ran off to the nearest telegraph office.</p> + +<p>Rivers saw that his proposal was anything but welcome, but for that very +reason he was determined to carry it out.</p> + +<p>An hour later he found himself standing in the pretty drawing room in +Philippa Terrace, talking to the most charming little girl he had ever +had the pleasure of meeting.</p> + +<p>Quentyns had run up at once to his room, and Hilda had not yet put in an +appearance, but Judy, who was sitting on a sofa reading "Sylvie and +Bruno," jumped up at once and came forward in her shy but self-possessed +little way to meet her sister's guest.</p> + +<p>"How do you do?" she said. "Where would you like to sit?"</p> + +<p>"I prefer standing, thank you," said Rivers. He smiled at Judy and held +out his hand. "So you are the young mutineer," he said suddenly.</p> + +<p>Judy's big eyes looked up at him in surprise—she was dressed in a green +silk frock, with a broad golden-brown sash round her waist. Her dress +was cut rather low in the neck, and she had several rows of golden-brown +beads round her throat. The quaint dress suited the quaint but earnest +little face.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span>"What do you mean by calling me such a queer name?" said Judy.</p> + +<p>"I am a great friend of your brother-in-law's," said Rivers, now +dropping into a chair and drawing the child toward him, "and he has told +me all about you—you mutinied when Mrs. Quentyns went away—it was very +wrong of you, very wrong indeed."</p> + +<p>"You can't judge anything about it," said Judy, the sensitive color +coming into her face; "you are on Jasper's side, so you can't know."</p> + +<p>"Of course I'm on Jasper's side, he's an excellent fellow, and a great +friend of mine."</p> + +<p>"I don't like him," said Judy; "it isn't to be expected I should."</p> + +<p>"Of course not, you wouldn't be a mutineer if you did."</p> + +<p>"I wish you wouldn't call me by that horrid name," said Judy. "I can't +quite understand what it means, but I'm sure it's disagreeable."</p> + +<p>"A mutineer is always a disagreeable person," continued Rivers, looking +with his pleasant eyes full at the child. "He is in a state of +rebellion, you know. People aren't nice when they rebel against the +inevitable."</p> + +<p>"What's the inevitable?" asked Judy.</p> + +<p>"The inevitable!" repeated Rivers. "The inevitable," he continued +gravely, "is what has <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span>to be met because it cannot be avoided. The +inevitable stands directly in a person's path; he can't go round it, he +can't jump over it, he has just to meet it bravely and make the best +friend he possibly can of it."</p> + +<p>"Oh," said Judy, "that sounds like a fairy tale. Babs and I love fairy +tales, particularly the old, old ones—the Jack the Giant Killer +sort—you understand?"</p> + +<p>"Jack the Giant Killer had lots of inevitables to meet," pursued Rivers.</p> + +<p>"Yes, of course," said Judy; "now I know what you mean as far as dear +Jack was concerned, but I don't know what you mean about me."</p> + +<p>"Well, you see, Miss Judy—you don't mind my calling Jasper's little +sister Miss Judy?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't talk of him," said Judy, a frown between her brows.</p> + +<p>"But I must if I'm to explain my meaning to you, for he's the +inevitable."</p> + +<p>"Now what <em>do</em> you mean?—you're the most puzzling sort of grown-up +person I ever met!"</p> + +<p>"And you're the most intelligent sort of little person I ever met. Now +let me explain matters to you. Your sister is very pretty, isn't she?"</p> + +<p>"Pretty?" said Judy meditatively—"pretty is such a common sort of +word—if you call <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span>flowers pretty, Hilda is, I suppose, but she's much, +much more than pretty."</p> + +<p>"I understand. I'm quite sure I understand you perfectly. And your +sister is good too, and sweet?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes!" Judy's eyes filled with tears, she blinked her eyelashes and +looked out of the window.</p> + +<p>"Well, now," said Rivers, and his voice was quite tender, for Judy's +manner and attitude touched him wonderfully. "Well, now, you see it was +inevitable that some man should love a woman like your sister, and want +to make her his wife, and wish to take her altogether to himself. It was +inevitable, also, that a woman with a gentle heart like Mrs. Quentyns +should love this man in return and want to devote her life to him."</p> + +<p>"Don't!" said Judy, suddenly; "I understand you now, I don't want you to +say another word." She crossed over to the window and stood there with +her back to Rivers, looking gravely out.</p> + +<p>Hilda came down in her rose-colored silk, and Rivers did not wonder that +Judy thought of the flowers when she looked at her.</p> + +<p>Hilda was unfeignedly glad to see him, and they had a pleasanter evening +than any since Judy's advent in Philippa Terrace. Rivers paid <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span>a great +deal of attention to the smallest and youngest member of the party, and +not only completely won Hilda's heart by so doing, but induced Quentyns +to look at his little sister-in-law with new eyes, and to discover for +the first time, that under certain conditions that wistful little face +could be both lovely and charming.</p> + +<p>"Remember about the inevitable," said Rivers, as he bade the child +good-night.</p> + +<p>"What did Mr. Rivers mean, Judy?" said Hilda. "Oh, Judy, what flushed +cheeks!—I did wrong to let you sit up, but you seemed so happy—you +seemed to take such a fancy to Mr. Rivers."</p> + +<p>"He was disagreeable to me—very disagreeable," said Judy, "but I liked +him."</p> + +<p>"And what did he mean by reminding you of the inevitable?" continued +Hilda.</p> + +<p>"It was in that way he was disagreeable," replied Judy. "I can't +explain, Hilda darling; good-night—I am going to bed now."</p> + +<p>That evening, in their own room, Hilda came suddenly to her husband's +side.</p> + +<p>"Jasper, don't you think you might forget about it now?" she said +timidly.</p> + +<p>"Forget about what, Hilda?" He had been genial and pleasant until she +began to speak; now his face stiffened in every outline, and the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span>look +came over it which always took poor Hilda's courage away.</p> + +<p>"We were so happy to-night," she began in a faltering voice—"we had +quite the best evening we have had since——" here she hesitated.</p> + +<p>"Since Judy came," pursued Jasper. "Yes, that goes without saying, there +were four of us—even the dearest friends are dull when there are three, +and of course Rivers is capital company, he's quite the best fellow all +round I ever met."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes!" said Hilda, a little impatiently, "but I don't want to talk +of him. Jasper dear, let us forget, let us—oh, let us be as we were +before."</p> + +<p>Tears choked her voice, she turned her head away.</p> + +<p>"I am so tired," she said suddenly; "I am the sort of girl who wants +sunshine, I am so tired of being without it."</p> + +<p>"When you talk in that metaphorical style I fail to understand you," +said Quentyns. "There's not the least cloud between us that I am aware +of, and if you are not in the sunshine, Hilda, I am afraid it is your +own fault. I have done everything in my power to meet your wishes. You +profess great love for me, and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span>great love for your sister, and now you +have us both, what can you possibly want besides?"</p> + +<p>"Only your forgiveness, your complete and full forgiveness."</p> + +<p>"I have nothing to forgive, my dear. You do your best—no one can do +better than their best."</p> + +<p>"No," said poor Hilda, with a sigh. She did not add any more.</p> + +<p>"I trust you are not going to turn into a fanciful sort of woman," said +Quentyns, half an hour later. "If there's a person in the world who +irritates me it's a woman with whims, a woman who has a grievance."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, Jasper! I won't have a grievance," she replied humbly.</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> +<a name="trumpery" id="trumpery"></a>CHAPTER XV.<br /> + +<small>THREE IS TRUMPERY.</small></h2> + +<div class="block"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The crown must be won for Heaven, dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the battle-field of life:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My child, though thy foes are strong and tried,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He loveth the weak and small;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Angels of Heaven are on thy side,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And God is over all!<br /></span></div></div> +<p class="right smcap">—Adelaide Proctor.</p> +</div> + + +<p>Judy's life was sunshine, and therefore Judy got quickly well; she was +like the birds and the flowers—give her sunshine enough, and she would +sing like the birds and bloom like the flowers. Hilda was her sun, and +now she was always basking herself in the beloved presence. Her cup of +happiness was full, and such contentment reigned in her little heart +that no moment was dull to her, and time never hung heavy on her hands.</p> + +<p>Hilda was just as sweet and loving as of old, and really, now that she +lived in the house with him, Jasper, her <em>bête noire</em>, the awful big +brother-in-law who had come and stolen her treasure away, seemed to make +but little difference in her <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span>life; it was almost nicer being with Hilda +in London than being with Hilda at the old Rectory—she seemed to get +more undivided attention from her sister than when that sister was the +Rector's right hand in his busy life, and when Judy had to learn lessons +with Babs, and walk with stupid, non-comprehending Miss Mills.</p> + +<p>Now Judy learned rapidly, for Hilda was her teacher; and how delightful +that lunch was which was also Judy's early dinner, when she and her +sister sat <em>tête-à-tête</em>, and talked always, always of old times.</p> + +<p>If visitors dropped in at tea-time Judy could afford, in her generous +happiness, to give them a little of her fascinating Hilda's attention, +for so often now there were heavenly evenings to follow, when that <em>bête +noire</em> the brother-in-law was not coming home, and the two sisters could +be alone.</p> + +<p>Judy loved the cozy sort of tea-dinners which began those evenings, and +then the long talk afterward in the lengthening twilight, when she sat +on a stool at Hilda's feet, with her head pressed up against Hilda's +arm, and her happy heart beating close to the other heart, which was all +her world.</p> + +<p>On those evenings too Hilda came upstairs and tucked her up in her white +bed, and said, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span><em>Now I lay me down to sleep</em> to her, just as she used in +the old nursery at home, after mother died.</p> + +<p>It was an understood thing, although no words had passed between the +two—it was an understood thing, that on the evenings when Jasper was at +home, Hilda should not come upstairs to Judy. This seemed a perfectly +fair and just arrangement, they were both in full accord on the subject; +but Judy could not help loving those days when she might have her sister +all to herself the best.</p> + +<p>On the morning after Rivers had dined in Philippa Terrace, as Jasper was +preparing to go out as usual, Hilda ran into the little hall to give him +a last word; she left the door of the dining room ajar, which was not +her invariable custom, and Judy, sitting at the breakfast table, found +herself in the position of an eavesdropper.</p> + +<p>"You are coming back to dinner to-night?" asked the wife.</p> + +<p>Jasper had been visited with some slight qualms of compunction that +morning, as he noticed how much paler Hilda's face was than when first +he had married her, so he put his arm round her neck now, and looking at +her with something of his old tenderness, said gently:</p> + +<p>"Do you really wish it?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span>"Jasper, how can you doubt?" she replied. "All the moments you are away +from me are long and wearisome."</p> + +<p>"Long and wearisome," repeated Judy softly to herself in the breakfast +parlor. Some of the color fled out of her face now; she lost her +appetite for the bread-and-butter and marmalade which she was eating.</p> + +<p>"You don't find three trumpery," pursued Jasper. Then he added with a +little sigh, "I wish I didn't; but I'll come home, Hilda, if you wish +it. Good-by, my dear. Stay, stop a moment; suppose I take you to the +play to-night. Judy won't mind going to bed a little earlier than +usual."</p> + +<p>Just at that moment Hilda started and looked round; she heard a slight +noise, and wondered if Susan were coming upstairs. The sound which +disturbed her was made by Judy, who, awaking suddenly to the knowledge +that she was an eavesdropper, had risen from the breakfast table and had +gently closed the dining-room door.</p> + +<p>"Of course Judy doesn't mind being left," said Hilda in a joyful tone. +"I should love to go out somewhere with you, Jasper. I really do want a +little bit of change."</p> + +<p>"Very well, my love; I'll take tickets for <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span>something amusing, and be +home to dinner at six."</p> + +<p>Quentyns went out, and Hilda danced back to the dining room. Her husband +had been kind, with something of the old tender kindness, and her heart +leaped up like a flower answering to the sun.</p> + +<p>Judy was standing by the window looking out.</p> + +<p>"Isn't it a lovely day, pet?" said Hilda, coming up to her. "Suppose we +give ourselves a holiday, and go to the Academy together. I have not +been there yet this year, and you have never been in all your life, +puss. You know how you love pictures; fancy room after room full of +pictures—all sorts, good, bad, and indifferent; all colors in them; all +sorts of subjects depicted on the canvases. There's a treat for my +little artist—shall I give it her?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Hilda, I'd like to go with you very much."</p> + +<p>"Are you tired, dear, your face is so grave?"</p> + +<p>"No, darling, I'm not at all tired."</p> + +<p>"Well, we'll give ourselves a holiday. Run up and put on your pretty +green cloak, and that big black hat with the green velvet. I want you to +look as picturesque as possible. I want to be proud of you."</p> + +<p>Judy suddenly flew to Hilda, clasped her arms <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span>round her neck, gave her +a passionate hug, and then rushed out of the room.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter with the child?" thought the elder sister for a brief +moment, "she was so bright yesterday, and even this morning, but now +she's dull, although she tries to hide it. I wonder if I ought to give +her some more of her tonic. Well, well, whether Judy is grave or gay, I +cannot help feeling very happy at the thought of going out with Jasper +once more."</p> + +<p>Hilda gave all directions with regard to the nice little dinner which +was to precede the play. She found a story book which Judy had not yet +read, and left it in the drawing room ready for her entertainment when +she was away; then, dressed also in her best, she went out with her +little sister, and, calling a hansom from the nearest stand, drove to +Burlington House.</p> + +<p>As usual the great exhibition was crowded with all sorts and conditions +of men—the fashionable, the studious, the artistic, the ignorant, were +all to be found there. Judy had a passion for art. She was an artist by +nature, down to the tips of her sensitive little fingers. No sooner did +she find herself in the midst of all the pictures, than whatever cloud +made her a little graver than usual took to itself wings and flew away.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span>Her pertinent remarks, her eager criticism, shrewd, observant, often +strangely to the point, aroused the attention of some of the bystanders; +they smiled as the pretty child and the beautiful girl walked slowly by +together. Judy's intelligent face was commented on; the pathetic, eager, +wistful eyes seemed to make their way to more than one heart. Hilda, +thinking of her evening with Jasper, was quite her old self, and people +thought what a happy pair the two were.</p> + +<p>In the third room they suddenly came face to face with Rivers.</p> + +<p>"What a bit of luck!" he said, going up at once to them. "Now, Mrs. +Quentyns, I shall insist upon taking you to lunch somewhere. Miss Judy, +how are you? what do you think of our national picture fair?"</p> + +<p>"Some of the pictures are lovely," she replied.</p> + +<p>"Some!" he retorted, raising his brows. "You don't mean to say you are +setting yourself up as a critic."</p> + +<p>"Judy is an artist by nature," said Hilda for her. "Hark to her remarks +with regard to the two dogs in that picture."</p> + +<p>"They are meant to move, but they are perfectly still," said Judy; "if I +drew them, I'd"—she puckered her brows—"oh, I'd see that they were +gamboling about."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span>A young man, who was standing not far off, turned away with a red +face—he happened to be the unfortunate artist. Bitter hatred of Judy +filled his heart, for some of the people who were standing near tittered +aloud, and remarked for the first time that the dogs were wooden.</p> + +<p>Rivers walked with Mrs. Quentyns and Judy through the different rooms: +he was an art connoisseur himself, and even dabbled in paint in a +dilettante sort of fashion. He drew Judy on to make remarks, laughed and +quizzed her for some ideas which he considered in advance of the times, +for others which were altogether too antiquated for him to pass +unchallenged.</p> + +<p>"Oh, how Stanmore would like to hear you," he remarked, naming one of +the pet artists of the New Art school. "Why, Judy, you are a democrat; +we should have no Academy if we listened to you, you little rebel; but +then, I forgot, of course you are a mutineer—you are true to your +character through everything."</p> + +<p>Hilda scarcely listened as the young man and the child chatted and +laughed together, her heart was dwelling altogether in the future. She +fancied herself even now driving to the play by her husband's side; she +saw the pretty dress she meant to wear; in her mind was reflected as in +a picture the image of her fair self, and the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span>image also of the man who +was still in her heart lover as well as husband. No matter for the +present cloud, he was still her lover. She wondered if he would give her +another tender glance, and if, as they sat side by side when the curtain +was up and the actors were moving about on the stage, he would touch her +hand with his, and show her in that way that she was forgiven.</p> + +<p>"If he would only understand that I must keep both my vows," she +murmured, "if I could only get him to really comprehend that much, much +as I love my Judy, I would rather be alone with him—that is, I would +rather be alone with him, if it makes him unhappy to have my sweet +little Judy in the house. But how happy she is since I brought her home; +how gay her voice sounds now."</p> + +<p>"I said you were a mutineer," laughed Rivers. "I know by your manner +that you will never put up with the inevitable."</p> + +<p>"Don't!" said Judy; Hilda was looking at a lovely landscape, a friend +she knew came up and spoke to her. "Don't!" said Judy, turning and +looking full at the young man; her eyes were grave, her childish face +grew suddenly white and drawn. "Perhaps I am going to give up being a +mutineer," she murmured.</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> +<a name="cross" id="cross"></a>CHAPTER XVI.<br /> + +<small>A LITTLE GIRL AND A LITTLE CROSS.</small></h2> + +<div class="block"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Love that hath us in the net,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can he pass, and we forget?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Many suns arise and set,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Many a chance the years beget.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love the gift is love the debt.<br /></span> +<span class="i10">Even so.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Love is hurt with jar and fret.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love is made a vague regret.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eyes with idle tears are wet.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Idle habit links us yet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What is love? for we forget:<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Ah, no! no!<br /></span></div></div> +<p class="right smcap">—Tennyson.</p> +</div> + + +<p>Mrs. Quentyns and Judy enjoyed their lunch with Rivers. They went into +the Park afterward for a short time, and then Hilda, remembering that +the hours were flying, and that she must be dressed and ready to receive +her husband before six that evening, bade the young man a hasty good-by, +and drove home with Judy.</p> + +<p>"I am so glad you are going to the play," said the little girl. "Why +don't you often go—why don't you constantly go out in the evening?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span>"If I did, Judy, what a dull time you'd have."</p> + +<p>"You're quite mistaken, Hilda; I shouldn't be dull at all. You don't +know how I like story-books, and Susan is such a nice girl. She has got +brothers and sisters at home, and she tells me about them when you are +out. I am never lonely; I couldn't possibly be sad in the same house +with you. If I saw you once or twice a day it would be enough for me—it +would really."</p> + +<p>"My dear little pet," laughed Hilda, "how solemnly you are talking, what +a frightfully earnest tone has got into your voice, and how you are +puckering your poor little forehead. I have only one thing to say in +reply to your generous wish to leave me so much by myself, namely, that +I should find it extremely inconvenient and extremely lonely to have you +in the house and only see you twice a day."</p> + +<p>"But suppose I weren't with you at all, Hilda—suppose I were still at +the Rectory."</p> + +<p>"That would be different," said Hilda, in a light tone; "you would be in +your natural home, and I——"</p> + +<p>"But you <em>would</em> be lonely if I were away from you, Hilda; do say you'd +be fearfully lonely!"</p> + +<p>The passion in Judy's voice was unnoticed by Hilda.</p> + +<p>"I'd miss you, of course, my pet," she said; <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span>"but I do declare that +stupid driver is taking us wrong. Oh, if he goes up that way it will be +such a round that I shall be late for Jasper's dinner. Poke your parasol +through the little window in the roof, Judy, and stop him, do."</p> + +<p>Judy obeyed, the driver received his directions in due course, and a +moment or two later Hilda and Judy were standing in the little hall at +Philippa Terrace. Quentyns came suddenly forward.</p> + +<p>"Why, Jasper, you have come back already," said the wife. "It isn't five +yet, but I—I can dress in no time. Have you got the tickets?—where are +we going?"</p> + +<p>"Come into the drawing room, Hilda, I want to say a word to you," said +Quentyns.</p> + +<p>"Run upstairs and take your things off, Judy," said Hilda. She followed +her husband into the little drawing room and shut the door. "Well?" she +said. Her voice was still gay, but a little, just a little, of the old +fear was creeping back into her heart.</p> + +<p>"I am ever so sorry, Hilda, to disappoint you," said Quentyns, "but when +I went to town this morning I absolutely forgot an engagement I made a +week ago. I have to go down with two or three men to Richmond. We are to +dine at the Star and Garter, and afterward Philip <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span>Danvers has asked me +to go home with him. The Danvers are charming people—have a beautiful +house on the river, and everything in the best possible style. I should +rather like to cultivate them. It is never a good plan to throw over +friends who may be influential; still, if you really wish it, Hilda, +I'll come home to-night and make some sort of excuse to Danvers—wire to +him that I am ill, or something of the kind. Of course it is too late +for me to get tickets for the play, but if you would like me to stay at +home, I'll—I'll do it—so there!"</p> + +<p>Hilda's face, which had been white, was now flushed.</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you tell me this morning?" she said. "Why did you forget? I +spent a day of hope, and now—now——" Her eyes filled with sudden +tears, she bit her lips and turned away.</p> + +<p>Her action, which seemed almost pettish, annoyed Quentyns.</p> + +<p>"You needn't cry," he said. "I never supposed you could be so childish. +Do you think I forgot on purpose? I was looking forward to my time at +Richmond, but it slipped my memory that this was the day. You needn't +cry, however, for if you have suddenly taken such a frantic desire for +my society, it is at your service. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span>I shall go out and wire to Danvers, +and be back again in half an hour."</p> + +<p>After all, Mrs. Quentyns had plenty of self-control. The annoyance and +distress in her voice had altogether left it when she spoke again.</p> + +<p>"Of course you must go, Jasper," she said. "You don't suppose for a +quarter of an instant that I should stand in your way. Let me go up with +you and help you to put the things you want into a bag, and you will +want some tea before you start. I'll ring and tell Susan to prepare it. +Now come along, dear; I'm glad of course that you are having this +pleasure."</p> + +<p>As Hilda ran upstairs her manner was once more quite cheerful. Quentyns, +however, whose conscience was smiting him, although he didn't know it, +could not help acting more or less like a bear with a sore head.</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't have accepted the invitation," he said, "upon my word I +shouldn't, did I not know that you would have Judy to keep you company. +You know I haven't that passion for children you have, and——"</p> + +<p>The door was closed behind the two.</p> + +<p>"Don't say any more," said Hilda, in a frightened sort of voice. "I told +you I was glad that you were to have the pleasure. Now which bag <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span>will +you take? Will the small Gladstone be large enough?"</p> + +<p>Ten minutes later Quentyns had left the house in a hansom, and Hilda +went up to Judy's room.</p> + +<p>"Come downstairs, darling," she said, "we are to have another long +evening all to ourselves. What a good thing I've got my sweet little +sister to stay at home with me. Judy, this was to be a festive night, +and I had quite a festive dinner prepared. Suppose we keep the occasion, +although we are only to be by ourselves. You shall dine with me +to-night, Judy, and we'll both dress for dinner. You shall wear white, +for you look so sweet in white, and I'll do the same."</p> + +<p>"Have you got the old India muslin dress that you used to wear at the +Rectory before—before there was a Jasper?" said Judy, in a queer, +steady kind of little voice. "If you have that old India muslin that +father loved and Aunt Marjorie loved, and that Babs and I used always to +say you looked like an angel in, will you put it on to-night, +Hilda?—will you wear that dress once again?"</p> + +<p>"What a queer thing!" replied Hilda. "I never threw the old muslin away. +I think I can poke it out of some depths somewhere; and it is <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span>so soft +that, if I shake it out and hang it up for about half an hour, it will +be quite presentable. Yon funny Judy, why do you wish to see me in that +dress?"</p> + +<p>"You were all mine when you wore that dress last," said Judy.</p> + +<p>"I am always yours, my dearest. But don't let us talk sentiment; let us +make ourselves smart, and let us come downstairs and be happy. We'll +imagine that we are at a very gay party; heaps and heaps of other people +in the room, but we two, as is sometimes the case, are more or less +alone in the crowd. We are so completely one that other people scarcely +affect us. We can talk together, and whisper old secrets about the +garden, and Babs, and the animals, and the organ in the church, and the +funny chorister-boy who would never sing in tune; we can talk of all +these things, although there are throngs and throngs around us, for in a +crowd those who love each other often find the best sort of solitude. +Come down, Judy, come down, and let's be happy!"</p> + +<p>"How flushed you are, Hilda; are you well?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I never felt better."</p> + +<p>"You look awfully pretty; you look quite lovely."</p> + +<p>"What a dear little flatterer you are! Does <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span>it really matter whether I +look pretty or not? Aunt Marjorie would scold you, child, for praising +my looks to my face; she would say you were encouraging vanity."</p> + +<p>"And I should tell her to her face that I was not," answered Judy +stoutly. "It's right to look beautiful; it's copying the flowers. Now +run and put on your India muslin dress, Hilda."</p> + +<p>Hilda left the room, and half an hour later the two sisters met in the +little drawing room. There were fresh flowers in the vases; and a great +bowl of primroses, which Aunt Marjorie had sent from the Rectory, was +placed on the little table in the square bay-window.</p> + +<p>Judy in her white dress stood near the flowers. She took up one, and in +an absent sort of fashion pulled it to pieces. Susan announced dinner, +and the sisters dined together in great state, and with apparent +enjoyment. Hilda joked about everything, and Judy, catching up her +spirit, did likewise.</p> + +<p>"Let us imagine, just for to-night, that I am grown-up," she said; +"treat me as if I were your grown sister—not your little +sister—Hilda."</p> + +<p>Hilda felt in the humor to comply with any request Judy made.</p> + +<p>"We will have our coffee in the drawing <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span>room," she said. "Black coffee +for me, please, Susan, but bring in a little jug of cream for Miss +Judy's. Now, dearest," turning to the child, "don't forget that the play +is going on; we have dined out with numbers, oh, numbers of guests, and +now we are in the large assembly-room, alone in the crowd, happy because +we are together."</p> + +<p>Judy had thrown herself back into a deep arm-chair in the little drawing +room while Hilda was speaking; her eyes had a sort of starry radiance +about them, her cheeks were slightly flushed, her cloudy soft brown hair +was thrown back from her white brow.</p> + +<p>Hilda moved about the room; she was restless notwithstanding the +enforced calm she was putting upon herself. Judy smiled when Hilda +spoke, but in her heart certain words kept repeating themselves—they +had repeated themselves like a sort of mournful echo in that poor little +heart all day.</p> + +<p>"All the moments you are away from me are long and wearisome," Hilda had +said to her husband. "All the moments."</p> + +<p>And then he had said to her:</p> + +<p>"You don't find three trumpery. I wish I didn't!"</p> + +<p>"So I'm the trumpery," thought Judy to herself. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span>"I'm three. And all the +moments while Hilda is away from Jasper are long and wearisome. Poor +Hilda! poor darling! how well she hid it all from me; how good, how very +good she has been to me; but I'm glad I know. It was a lucky, a very +lucky thing that the door of the breakfast room was left slightly open +this morning, and so I was able to hear Jasper's words."</p> + +<p>"How silent you are, dearest," said Hilda, looking at the child.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon," said Judy, jumping up. "I was thinking."</p> + +<p>"Think aloud then, sweet. Let me share your pretty thoughts."</p> + +<p>"But they are not pretty, Hilda; and I think I'd rather no one shared +them. Now let us talk about old times—about the dear old times before +there was a Jasper."</p> + +<p>"Judy," said Hilda, "there is just one thing I should like to say to +you. Even if it gives you pain, I ought to remind you, my darling, that +Jasper is my husband; that I love him. Oh! Judy, Judy, my heart aches +with love to him. My heart aches because I love my husband so much."</p> + +<p>Judy clenched her hands; a great wave of crimson swept over her face. +Hilda had hidden <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span>her own face in her hands, and did not notice the +child's agitation. Presently the little sister's hand softly touched her +forehead.</p> + +<p>"And you're lonely to-night, poor Hilda, because your Jasper is away?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Judy, it's true. I'm afraid even to tell you how lonely I am."</p> + +<p>"And you've been trying to seem cheerful, just to please me."</p> + +<p>"And to please myself too," said Hilda, starting up and wiping the tears +from her eyes. "There, we won't talk about it any more; we'll go on +pretending that we are having an awfully jolly time."</p> + +<p>"You're very brave, Hilda," said Judy; "and when people are brave, +things generally come right. Now, may I sit on your knee, just as if I +were a baby instead of a tall girl with long legs? <em>I</em> wouldn't make you +unhappy, Hilda darling. When there's an inevitable I must face it; I +must, and you will see that I will. Jack the Giant Killer shan't beat +<em>me</em> over difficulties when I've made up my mind."</p> + +<p>"Judy, your face is flushed, and your eyes are too bright; that strong +coffee was bad for you, you won't sleep to-night."</p> + +<p>"I dare say I shan't sleep; but now let us talk of old times."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span>"Only for a few moments, dear; you look so excited that I shall not +rest until I see you safely in bed."</p> + +<p>Judy laughed, and declared stoutly that she never felt better.</p> + +<p>Half an hour afterward she went up to her pretty little bedroom, Hilda +promising to follow her in about a quarter of an hour, if she possibly +could.</p> + +<p>When the elder sister entered the room, she found Judy standing by her +bed in her frilled night-dress.</p> + +<p>"You will get cold, love—do get into bed," said Hilda.</p> + +<p>"I want to say my prayers to you, Hilda, if you don't mind," said Judy, +"just as I used when I was a very little girl."</p> + +<p>"Of course, darling, if you wish it."</p> + +<p>Hilda sat down, and the little sister knelt at her knee.</p> + +<p>The old baby prayers were said aloud; but suddenly, in the midst of +them, Judy bent her head and murmured something which Hilda could not +hear.</p> + +<p>She jumped up a moment later and put her arms round her sister's neck.</p> + +<p>"You won't be lonely long, Hilda," she said. "It will be all right; +you'll see it will be as right <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span>as possible. I am glad you are fond of +Jasper. I am really, really, awfully glad."</p> + +<p>"Good-night, my darling," said Hilda, kissing her. She went out of the +room with tears in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Poor little Judy, how little she knows," thought the elder sister; "how +very little she knows what a cloud there is between Jasper and me. Oh, +if it goes on much longer, I think my heart will break!"</p> + +<p>In the meantime, in her pretty white bed, Judy was murmuring an old text +to herself:</p> + +<p>"He that taketh not up his cross and followeth after Me, cannot be My +disciple."</p> + +<p>Once, long ago, the Rector had explained this text, or rather given a +shadow of its meaning to the child.</p> + +<p>"Followeth after Me," she murmured; and a vision came to her of One who, +in the great cause of Love, had taken up His cross, even to death.</p> + +<p>She wiped the tears from her eyes, and fell asleep.</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span> +<a name="secret" id="secret"></a>CHAPTER XVII.<br /> + +<small>JUDY'S SECRET.</small></h2> + +<div class="block"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Be strong to <em>hope</em>, oh, Heart!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though day is bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The stars can only shine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the dark night.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be strong, oh, Heart of mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Look towards the light!<br /></span></div></div> +<p class="right smcap">Adelaide Proctor.</p> +</div> + + +<p>The next morning Judy was down specially early to breakfast.</p> + +<p>Her cheeks were slightly more flushed than usual, and her eyes, to +anyone who watched them closely, had a determined, almost hard, +expression in them. Hilda, however, was too much occupied with her own +sad thoughts to take any special notice of the child.</p> + +<p>"You look well, Judy," she said, giving a quick glance at her. "Now come +to breakfast, dear, I've a good deal to do afterward."</p> + +<p>"Are you going out, Hilda?" asked Judy.</p> + +<p>"No, I'm going to be busy all the morning over my accounts; they've got +into the most disgraceful muddle, and I want to put them <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span>straight. I +shall be in the drawing room, for I keep all my household books in the +davenport there. I mean to give you a holiday, Judy, but perhaps you +won't mind reading some of your history to yourself, and doing a few +sums this morning."</p> + +<p>"Of course not," said Judy brightly. "Shall I make you some toast, +Hilda? This in the toast-rack is so soft and flabby—do let me, Hilda."</p> + +<p>"If you like, dear, you may. It is lucky there is a fire, but I must +tell cook to discontinue them, the weather is getting so warm."</p> + +<p>Judy was an adept at making toast, and it was an old fashion at the +Rectory that Hilda's toast should be made by her, on those blissful +red-letter days when the elder sister had tea with the little ones in +the nursery.</p> + +<p>Judy wondered as she delicately browned that toast, and scorched her own +little cheeks, if Hilda would remember the old days, and the toast which +she used to make her; but Mrs. Quentyns seemed to be in a sort of brown +study that morning, and thanked the child absently when the crisp hot +toast was put on her plate.</p> + +<p>"Jasper will be home quite early to-day, won't he, Hilda?" inquired +Judy.</p> + +<p>"I don't know, Judy—yes, I suppose so."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure he'll be home early," repeated Judy <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span>with confidence; "perhaps +he'll take you to the play to-night, and perhaps you'll be awfully +happy."</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't talk about it, Judy," said Hilda, in a weary voice; "we must +all make up our minds to face the fact that there's a great deal <em>more</em> +than mere happiness in the world. What is happiness? It's only a small +part of life."</p> + +<p>"I don't think it is going to be a small part of your life, Hilda; but +now I'm not going to idle you any more, for you want to get to your +accounts."</p> + +<p>Judy ran out of the room. As she was going slowly upstairs, she paused +once to say softly to herself:</p> + +<p>"It's all happening beautifully; I ought to be glad. Of course I am +glad. '<em>He that taketh not up his cross.</em>' I'm glad that text keeps +running in my head, it makes me so nice and strong."</p> + +<p>Susan was doing out Judy's room when the little girl ran into it. Judy +was fond of Susan, and Susan of her, and the girl stopped her work now +to listen to the child's eager words.</p> + +<p>"Susan, do you think Mrs. Quentyns would let you come out with me for a +little this morning, for about an hour or an hour and a half?"</p> + +<p>"Well, miss," said Susan, "it aint Monday, which is the day to get ready +for the laundry, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span>nor yet Wednesday, when I turns out the drawing room, +nor Friday, which is silver day—there's nothing special for Thursday; I +should think I could go with you, Miss Judy, and it will be a treat to +take you about. Is it Mme. Tussand's you has a hankerin' for, Miss?"</p> + +<p>"No, no, Susan, I'm not going to any exhibition; it's a secret—I'll +tell you when we're out."</p> + +<p>"The Doré Gallery, perhaps?" suggested Susan.</p> + +<p>"No, it's nothing of that sort; I'll tell you when we're out."</p> + +<p>"Very well, miss, I'm proud to be at your service whatever it is."</p> + +<p>"I'll run down now and ask my sister if you may come with me, Susan."</p> + +<p>Judy threw her arms round Hilda as she was coming up from the kitchen +premises.</p> + +<p>"Hilda, the day is so fine!"</p> + +<p>"No, Judy, you mustn't tempt me to go out. I really have to get those +accounts straight, they quite weigh on my mind."</p> + +<p>"So you shall, Hilda darling; but I was wondering if after I've read my +history and done my sums, and a little bit of writing I want to get +through, if you'd let Susan—if you'd let Susan take me out."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span>"Susan!" repeated Hilda, "but I can go with you myself this afternoon."</p> + +<p>"I know, only I do so want a run on this fine morning, and Susan says +it's not laundry day, nor drawing-room day, nor silver day; it's +Thursday, which is nothing special; she can come, may she, Hilda?—do +say yes."</p> + +<p>"It's not like you, Judy," said Hilda, "to be in this impatient state. I +would rather you did not propose plans to the servants without first +consulting me, darling, it rather puts them out of their place; but as +you have done it, and as you are the best of dear little girls, I +suppose I must say 'yes' on this occasion. If Susan hurries with her +work, she may take you out: but of course you won't be very long, will +you?"</p> + +<p>To this question Judy made no reply. She gave Hilda a tight clasp and a +fierce kiss, and rushed away.</p> + +<p>"Susan, you're to hurry with your work, for you may come," she shouted, +almost boisterously, to the parlor-maid, and then she ran down to the +dining room and shut the door behind her.</p> + +<p>"It's happening beautifully," she murmured again; "how lucky that I +never spent godmother's sovereign. And now to write my letter to Hilda. +I'm not going to waste my time crying, there'll be time enough for that +by and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span>by—that's if I want to cry, perhaps I shan't. When I think of +how very happy Hilda will be, perhaps my heart will sing. But now for +the letter—Hilda mustn't find it too soon; I'll put it under her +pin-cushion, then perhaps she won't see it for some hours after I've +gone, but now I must write it."</p> + +<p>Judy took out her own little blotting-book, placed a sheet of paper +before her, and began laboriously, with little fingers which rapidly got +ink-stained, to put a few words on the paper.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="noi"> +"<span class="smcap">Darling Hilda</span>, +</p> + +<p>"You'll be s'prised when you get this. I'm going home. I'm quite +well now, and I'm not going to fret, but I'm going to be +<em>really</em> happy. Good-by, Hilda; I love you awfully.</p> + +<p class="right">"Your</p> +<p class="right2 smcap">"Judy."</p> +</div> + +<p>This little note was put into an envelope, and sealed with some precious +red wax, and before she left the house Judy found an opportunity to put +it under Hilda's pin-cushion.</p> + +<p>"It doesn't tell her a bit what I think, nor what I feel," murmured the +poor child. "But it's best for her just to suppose that I <em>want</em> to go +home. She'll be happy all the sooner if she thinks that."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span>Susan was rather elated at escaping housework, and at being allowed to +go out so early in the morning. She was especially fond of Judy, and +would do anything in the world for her. Now, therefore, principally on +Judy's account, but also in the hope that the baker might happen to see +her as she passed his shop, she put on her very smartest hat and her +very best jacket, and patiently waited in the front hall for Judy's +appearance.</p> + +<p>Hilda came out of the drawing room to see the two as they went off.</p> + +<p>"You had better take an omnibus, and get out at Kensington Gardens," she +said to the maid. "I shall expect you back in time to get lunch ready, +Susan. Judy pet, give me a kiss before you go."</p> + +<p>Judy had lost her roses now, her face was pale, and there were dark +shadows under her big eyes. Her little voice, however, had a very stout, +determined tone about it.</p> + +<p>"Good-by, Hilda," she said; "one kiss—two, three kisses, Hilda; it is +good of you to let us out,—and we are going to be so jolly. Good-by, +darling Hilda."</p> + +<p>"Good-by, Judy," said Hilda.</p> + +<p>She kissed the child, but in a pre-occupied manner—the cloud which +weighed on her heart <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span>was oppressing her, and dulling her usually keen +perceptions where Judy was concerned.</p> + +<p>"It's all the better," thought the little girl, "it's easier to say +good-by when she's not extra loving."</p> + +<p>Hilda went back to her accounts, and Judy and Susan walked down the +terrace, and turning the corner were lost to view.</p> + +<p>They had gone on a little way, and Susan was about to hail a passing +omnibus, when Judy suddenly put her hand on the servant's arm.</p> + +<p>"Susan," she said, "I am going to tell you the secret now. You'll be +<em>sure</em> to keep it?"</p> + +<p>"Well, of course, miss, I'll do my best—I hope I aint one of the +blabbing sort."</p> + +<p>"I don't think you are, Susan—you look as if a person could trust you. +I'm going to trust you with a most important thing."</p> + +<p>"Very well, miss—I'll be proud I'm sure; but hadn't we better stop that +'bus—there's the conductor looking at us."</p> + +<p>"Does that 'bus go in the direction of Waterloo Station?" asked Judy.</p> + +<p>"Waterloo—bless you, Miss Judy—I don't know whether it do or not. I +don't s'pose so for a quarter of a minute. Waterloo is miles from +here—that I do know. But it's nothing <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span>to us where Waterloo is, miss, +it's to Kensington Gardens we're going, and the 'bus has gone on now, so +there's no good our worrying ourselves about it. Another will pass us in +a minute. There are plenty half empty at this hour of the day."</p> + +<p>"I wish you would stop talking, Susan, and let me explain what I mean," +said Judy, almost fretfully. "It's to Waterloo I want to go, not to +Kensington Gardens. Do you hear me—do you understand what I'm saying?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose you're joking me, Miss Judy. My missis said we were to go to +Kensington Gardens."</p> + +<p>"Please, Susan, stop for a minute. I want to say something very +important. <em>I am going home.</em> That's the secret. I am going home to Aunt +Marjorie and to father, and my little sister Babs, and the way home is +by Waterloo, so I must get there. Now do you understand? That's the +secret—I am going home to-day."</p> + +<p>Judy's face was so pale, and her words so intensely earnest, that Susan +saw at last that the secret was no joking matter, but something real and +hard to bear.</p> + +<p>"Now I wonder what the little dear is up to," she said under her breath.</p> + +<p>"You know, Miss Judy, pet," she replied <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span>aloud in as soothing a voice as +she could command, "that you don't really mean to run away like +that,—for it is running away to go back to your home, and never say a +word to Mrs. Quentyns, and she so wrapped up in you, and your room +furnished so prettily and all."</p> + +<p>Judy had to gulp down a sob before she answered Susan.</p> + +<p>"I didn't expect you to understand me," she said with a dignity which +made a deep impression on the maid. "I'm not running away, and I'm doing +right not wrong. You don't suppose it's always very pleasant to do +right, but sometimes one can't think about what's pleasant. I wouldn't +have asked you to help me at all, Susan, but I don't know how to get to +Waterloo Station. Of course I came from there with my sister, but I +didn't notice the road we took, nor anything about it. I know we were a +long time in a cab, so I suppose the station is a good way from Philippa +Terrace. What you have got to do now, Susan, is to obey me, and not to +ask any questions. I really know what I'm about, and I promise that you +shan't get into any trouble."</p> + +<p>But to Judy's surprise Susan was firm.</p> + +<p>"I won't have hand nor part in the matter," she said; "I was told to +take you to Kensington <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span>Gardens, miss, and it's there we've got to go, +or we'll turn round and go back to Philippa Terrace."</p> + +<p>For a moment or two Judy felt afraid that all her plans were in +jeopardy. She might of course call a cab on her own account, and trust +the driver to take her safely to her destination; but brave as she was, +she had scarcely courage for this extreme step; besides, the driver of +the hansom might take it into his head to listen to Susan's strong +objections, and even if he did obey Judy, Susan would go back to +Philippa Terrace, and tell Hilda everything, and then Hilda would follow +Judy to Waterloo, and prevent her going home at all.</p> + +<p>The strongest feeling in the child's mind was a desire to be safe back +in the Rectory before Hilda knew anything about her determination.</p> + +<p>"Then she can't do anything," thought Judy. "She'll have nothing for it +but to make herself quite happy with Jasper again."</p> + +<p>Suddenly an idea came to her.</p> + +<p>"I won't argue with you any more, Susan," she said. "I suppose you +<em>think</em> you are doing right, and if you do, of course I can't expect you +to act in any other way. If you knew everything that is in my heart, I +am quite sure you <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span>would help me; but as you don't, I must think of +something else. You know Mr. Rivers, don't you—the gentleman who dined +at Philippa Terrace two nights ago?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, miss, of course."</p> + +<p>"My sister and I took lunch with him yesterday," continued Judy. "He is +a very nice gentleman; he's a great friend of Mr. Quentyns."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, miss, I'm aware," replied the maid.</p> + +<p>"He lives in chambers," continued Judy. "I don't in the least know what +chambers means; but he asked me to go and see him some day and have +lunch with him. He wrote his address on a piece of paper and gave it to +me, and I have it in my purse. My sister said I might certainly lunch +with Mr. Rivers. Now, Susan, I intend to go to him to-day. So please +call a hansom, and I shall drive there at once. You can come or not as +you please. If you prefer it you can go home; but of course I'd rather +you came with me."</p> + +<p>Susan deliberated. Certainly Miss Judy was in a very queer condition, +and it would be as much as her place was worth to take her to Waterloo; +but to drive with her to the chambers of that nice gentleman who was, +she knew, one of her master's greatest friends, seemed a shifting <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span>of +responsibility which was quite a way out of the dilemma, for not for +worlds would Susan do anything really to hurt the child's feelings.</p> + +<p>"All right, miss," she said after a pause; "even that seems queer +enough, but Mr. Rivers can explain matters himself to my missis. Here's +a nice 'ansom with a steady horse. Stop, driver, please, stop! Draw up +here by the lamp-post. Now, miss, shall I get in first and give you a +hand?"</p> + +<p>"No, Susan; I can get into a hansom without anyone helping me."</p> + +<p>"Drive to No. 10 Johnson's Court, Lincoln's Inn Fields," said Judy, in a +clear voice to the man; and then she and Susan found themselves bowling +away farther and farther from West Kensington, from Judy's pretty +bedroom, from Hilda and her love.</p> + +<p>In an incredibly short space of time they arrived at their destination; +the driver pulled up his horse at No. 10 Johnson's Court, with an +<em>esprit</em> which Judy would have much admired had her thoughts been less +pre-occupied.</p> + +<p>She jumped out with alacrity, declining Susan's assistance, and asked +the man what his fare was. He named a sum which Susan took into her head +to consider exorbitant, and which she loudly objected to Judy's paying; +but the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span>little girl gave it without a moment's hesitation, and the next +instant was running up the stairs to Rivers' chambers.</p> + +<p>What might have happened had that gentleman been out no one can say; +Judy's heroic impulse might after all have come to nothing, and Jasper +might still have had to complain of that three, which means trumpery, +invading his house; but it so happened that Rivers was in, and, busy man +that he was, comparatively disengaged. When Judy inquired for him he was +standing in his clerk's room, giving some directions. At the sound of +her voice he looked up, and with a start and smile of delight came +forward to welcome her.</p> + +<p>"I am very glad to see you," he said; "how kind of you to remember your +promise."</p> + +<p>Then, seeing by her face that Judy's poor little heart was very full, he +took her into his private room, and desired Susan to wait in the clerk's +room.</p> + +<p>"Now, Jack the Giant Killer, what is it?" said Rivers; "what's the +matter?"</p> + +<p>"I told you," said Judy; "I told you yesterday, that <em>perhaps</em> I was +going to stop being a mutineer. Well, I have stopped. I thought you'd +like to know."</p> + +<p>"So I do, Judy," said Rivers. "I am proud <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span>to be acquainted with a +little girl who has such immense control over herself. I should like to +hear how you have contrived to get out of the state of rebellion into +the state of submission. I know of course that you have been killing a +giant, but I am interested in the process."</p> + +<p>"I'm killing the giant by going home," said Judy, standing very erect by +Rivers' table, and pushing back her shady hat from her white forehead. +"I am going home, back to Little Staunton Rectory. I see what you mean, +that it's better—better for Jasper and Hilda, to be without—without +<em>me</em>. I pretended not to understand you the other night, but I don't +pretend any longer now; and yesterday evening, when Hilda and I were all +alone, for Jasper had gone away down to Richmond, I—I made up my mind. +Hilda doesn't know anything about it."</p> + +<p>"Sit down, Judy," said Rivers. "I cannot tell you how I respect you."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 422px;"> +<img src="images/i002.jpg" width="422" height="600" alt=""I'D RATHER STAND, PLEASE." P. 222." title="" /> +<span class="caption">"i'd rather stand, please."</span> +</div> + +<p>"I'd rather stand, please," said Judy. "Hilda doesn't know," she +continued, "and she <em>mustn't</em> know until I am safe back at Little +Staunton Rectory. Susan—you know Susan, she's Hilda's parlor-maid; +well, Susan came out with me this morning, and I coaxed her very hard to +take me to Waterloo, but she refused. I don't quite <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span>know how to get +there by myself, so now I want to know if you will take me?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly I will," said Rivers. "What is more, I'll go with you to the +Rectory. I have nothing special to do to-day, and it will be quite a +pleasure to spend a little time in your company. Do you know anything +about the trains, and what is the name of the station we have to go to?"</p> + +<p>Judy named the one nearest to the Rectory.</p> + +<p>"You had better sit down for a moment," pursued Rivers. "I have an 'A B C' here, so I can tell you in a moment which is the best train to take. +Now, what is the matter?"</p> + +<p>"Only, Mr. Rivers, Hilda must not know anything—anything about it until +I am safe home. Can this be managed?"</p> + +<p>"I have very little doubt that it can. I shall go out now and speak to +Susan and send her away. Thank you, Judy, for coming to me; I would do +anything for you, because you are brave, and I respect and admire all +brave people."</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span> +<a name="killer" id="killer"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.<br /> + +<small>GIANT-KILLER.</small></h2> + +<div class="block"> +<p class="noi nb">And the Prince, seeing that it was of no use to remonstrate, +bowed and retired.</p> +<p class="right smcap">—The Golden Branch.</p> +</div> + + +<p>Susan came home and told her mistress that Judy was spending the day +with Mr. Rivers.</p> + +<p>"What an extraordinary thing for the child to do!" said Hilda.</p> + +<p>"She said, ma'am, that Mr. Rivers asked her to lunch, and that you knew +about it."</p> + +<p>"Yes; but why did she not say something to me when she was going out? It +is so unlike Miss Judy to keep a thing of that sort to herself."</p> + +<p>Susan made no reply. She was no longer responsible, and was only too +anxious not to betray the child.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Rivers says he'll take the best care of her, ma'am," she said, +after a pause.</p> + +<p>"Well, go and take off your hat, Susan, and lay the lunch," said Hilda, +feeling still more <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span>puzzled, but not caring to pursue her inquiries any +further.</p> + +<p>She had a sense of aggrievement and a feeling of added loneliness as she +sat down to her solitary lunch. She missed Judy, and wondered at her +sudden want of confidence; but soon the deeper trouble which Jasper's +conduct had caused returned to trouble her, and she forgot her little +sister in the sadness of her thoughts.</p> + +<p>She spent a long and very lonely afternoon indoors, for she had not the +heart to go out, and besides, she expected Judy home every minute.</p> + +<p>She thought it likely that Rivers would take her somewhere after lunch, +but surely he would bring her back to Philippa Terrace in time for tea. +Hilda ordered some cakes which she knew were special favorites of Judy's +to be ready for this meal; and then she sat in her pretty little drawing +room, and tried to divert her thoughts over the pages of the latest +novel which had arrived from Mudie's.</p> + +<p>It was either not specially interesting, or Hilda found it difficult to +concentrate her attention. She flung the book on her knee, and sat +absorbed in what Judy and Babs called a brown study. She was startled +out of her meditations by Susan bringing in the tea-tray and the little +kettle and spirit-lamp.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span>"Did Mr. Rivers say when he would bring Miss Judy home?" she asked of +the maid.</p> + +<p>Susan colored and hesitated slightly in her reply.</p> + +<p>"No, ma'am; he said nothing at all about coming home," she answered.</p> + +<p>Hilda noticed her hesitation, but did not wish to question her further. +After the servant left the room, however, she began for the first time +to feel both impatient and uneasy with regard to her little sister.</p> + +<p>"If Judy is not here by six o'clock," she said to herself, "I will go to +Lincoln's Inn Fields in search of her. How extraordinarily impatient she +was to go out this morning; and how very odd of her to insist on going +to Mr. Rivers', and to say nothing at all to me about it; and then how +queer—how more than queer—her not having yet returned. My sweet little +Judy, the most thoughtful child who ever breathed—it is unlike her to +cause me anxiety of this sort."</p> + +<p>Hilda did not care for the social little meal which was generally so +lively when Judy was present. Immediately afterward she ran upstairs to +put on her bonnet and jacket; and as she was going out, left a message +with Susan.</p> + +<p>"If Miss Judy and Mr. Rivers come," she said, "please say that I have +gone to Lincoln's Inn <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span>Fields, as I felt anxious about the child being +so long away."</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am," said the servant.</p> + +<p>"Whistle for a hansom for me, please, Susan."</p> + +<p>Susan did so; and half an hour afterward Hilda was making inquiries at +Rivers' chambers with regard to his whereabouts. The clerks there could +give her no definite information. Mr. Rivers had gone out with a little +lady soon after twelve o'clock, and had told them not to expect him back +that day.</p> + +<p>"I shall find Judy at Philippa Terrace when I go home," thought Mrs. +Quentyns. "It was thoughtless of her not to tell me how long she would +be out—it was wonderfully unlike her. Still, of course, she will be at +home now."</p> + +<p>But when Hilda returned no Judy was there to greet her; but her +husband's face was seen looking somewhat impatiently out at the +drawing-room window. He came at once to help his wife out of the cab, +and entered the house with her.</p> + +<p>"Where were you?" he asked. "It is nearly time for dinner."</p> + +<p>"I won't be a moment getting dressed, Jasper; but—but—I am anxious +about Judy."</p> + +<p>Quentyns had meant to be specially nice and kind to Hilda after his +evening's pleasure, but <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span>he felt it impossible now to keep the glib, +sarcastic words back.</p> + +<p>"I might have known when I saw that fretful look on your face, that Judy +was the cause. Now, what is her latest transgression?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, there is a telegraph-boy," said Hilda eagerly. "What—what—oh, +<em>is</em> there anything wrong?"</p> + +<p>She rushed to the hall-door herself, before Jasper could prevent her. +Susan, coming into the hall to answer the imperative double knock, was +sent back to the kitchen regions, in a cross voice, by her master.</p> + +<p>"Really, Hilda," began Quentyns, "your impetuosity is most undignified. +I must say that these kinds of scenes are——Now, what is the matter, +my love—tears again. A coming home of this sort is not the most +cheerful sort of thing, you must allow."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Jasper, Jasper, I'm not even listening to you," said poor Hilda. +"What can be the matter? what can be wrong? Here's a telegram from Mr. +Rivers. He says—see what he says.</p> + +<p>"'Little Staunton Rectory. Have brought Judy home. Will call and see you +soon after ten this evening. Rivers.'"</p> + +<p>"Rivers!" repeated Jasper.</p> + +<p>His voice grew thoughtful; he did not like <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span>Rivers, of all men, to be +mixed up in his domestic affairs. Rivers, at least, must keep him on a +pedestal, and know nothing of his weaknesses—of that infirmity of +temper which he struggled against, and yet, in Judy's presence, could +not conquer. He forgot all about Judy herself in his wonder as to how +Rivers had got mixed up in the matter.</p> + +<p>Hilda had seated herself on the sofa, and still holding the open +telegram in her hand, was trying furtively to wipe away her fast-falling +tears.</p> + +<p>"I wish you'd stop crying, Hilda," said her husband. "There's nothing to +alarm you in this telegram—nothing whatever. If Judy is with a man like +Tom Rivers, she's as safe as child can be."</p> + +<p>"But she has gone home, Jasper; she has gone home to the Rectory, +without even telling me."</p> + +<p>"Well, my dear, it's impossible for me to explain away the vagaries of +that most eccentric child. I presume, however, that Rivers has a key to +the mystery, and as he says he will call here after ten o'clock, we +shall know all about it then. No amount of discussion can explain it in +advance. So, Hilda, perhaps you will go upstairs and get ready for +dinner. I'm frightfully hungry."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span> +Hilda rose wearily and left the room at once.</p> + +<p>"I think I can guess something—just something of what it means," she +said to herself. "My little Judy—my brave little Judy!"</p> + +<p>Judy's letter was lying hidden all this time under the large pin-cushion +on Hilda's dressing table, but as it was not seen, its contents, which +would have explained a good deal, were of course not known.</p> + +<p>The dinner which followed this unhappy beginning of the evening was as +dismal and constrained as if poor "trumpery" were still present.</p> + +<p>Quentyns, like most men who work hard all day, was particular about this +meal, and to-night of all nights cook had not sent up the soup to his +satisfaction, nor the <em>entrée</em> seasoned to his taste. It was all one to +Hilda just now what she ate, but Quentyns pushed his plate impatiently +away, and kept on referring to the excellent dinner he had had the night +before at the Star and Garter. He spoke of his evening as delightful, +and of the house of the new friend where he had slept as altogether +irreproachable.</p> + +<p>Hilda felt that he was talking at her all the time, but she had not the +heart to reply to him. The dismal little meal came to a mournful end, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span>and the two went into the drawing room to wait for Rivers' arrival.</p> + +<p>Hilda took up a handkerchief she was embroidering for Judy, and took +special pleasure in putting in new and exquisite stitches as her +thoughts centered themselves in dull wonder and pain round the child. +Quentyns became absorbed in the contents of a novel. He read for half an +hour—he was by no means in a good humor, and now and then his eyes were +raised to look over the top of the book at his wife. There was a patient +sort of suffering about her which irritated him a good bit, as he could +see no possible reason to account for it. He asked her one or two +questions, which she answered in an abstracted manner.</p> + +<p>No, he certainly had not bargained for this sort of thing when he +married. Hilda was not only pretty, but she could be, when she liked, +sufficiently intellectual to satisfy his requirements. He was fastidious +and had peculiar views with regard to women. He hated the so-called +clever women, but at the same time he despised the stupid ones. To +please him a woman must have tact—she must quickly understand his many +moods. She must sympathize when he demanded sympathy, and when he showed +by his manner that he wished to be left <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span>alone, she must respect his +desires. Hitherto, Hilda had abundantly fulfilled his expectations. If +Judy had not been in the house, all that he had ever dreamed of in his +married life would have come to pass. But to-night, although Judy was +not there to intermeddle, Quentyns felt that, for all the good his wife +was doing him, he might as well be a bachelor at his club.</p> + +<p>"My dear," he said with some impatience, and forgetting himself not a +little, "do you know that you have made precisely the same remark now +five times? I did not quarrel with its brilliancy the first time I heard +it, but on the fifth occasion I will own that it gave me a certain sense +of <em>ennui</em>. As I see that your thoughts are miles away, I'll just run +round to the club for a bit and find out if there is anything going on."</p> + +<p>Hilda raised her eyes in some surprise. A certain expression in them +seemed to expostulate with Jasper, but her lips said nothing; and just +at that moment a hansom was heard to bowl up rapidly and stop with a +quick jerk at the door. A moment later Rivers entered the drawing room. +He came up at once to Hilda with the air of a man who has a message to +deliver.</p> + +<p>"Judy hopes you got her note long ere this, Mrs. Quentyns."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span>"Her note—no; I have not received any," replied Hilda.</p> + +<p>"She wrote to you this morning, and put the note under the pin-cushion +in your room."</p> + +<p>"How romantic and Judy-like!" said Quentyns suddenly. "Quite the correct +thing, according to the old-fashioned novels. When the heroine elopes +she always leaves a note under the pin-cushion."</p> + +<p>"How do you do, Jasper? I did not notice you until this moment," said +Rivers. He gave the other man a sharp glance, which suddenly made him +feel queer and small. "The only thing old-fashioned that I notice about +Judy," he said, "is her noble unselfishness. She has gone home +because—because—I think you can both guess why; an explanation would +only be disagreeable. She begged me to tell you, Mrs. Quentyns, that she +meant to be really <em>perfectly</em> happy at home, and she hoped you and +Jasper would follow her example here. Poor little Giant Killer! she slew +an enormous giant to-day, and there are few people I respect as I do +that dear little soul. I saw her safely to the Rectory, as, when she +came to me, I thought it best to humor what was more a noble inspiration +than a child's whim. I will say good-night now."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span>Hilda scarcely said a word while Rivers was speaking. When he left the +room, however, she stood still for an instant, listening intently. +Jasper had gone out to see his friend into his hansom. Would he come +back? He did for a moment.</p> + +<p>"Don't sit up for me, Hilda," he said; and there was a tone in his voice +which caused her heart to sink down low, very low indeed.</p> + +<p>She heard the door slam behind him, and then she knew that she was +alone. The servants had gone to bed—to all intents and purposes she was +absolutely alone in the silent house.</p> + +<p>So Judy's sacrifice was in vain. Judy had thought, by absolutely +sacrificing herself, that she could bring this husband and wife +together. It was not to be.</p> + +<p>Hilda fell on her knees and buried her burning face in the sofa +cushions.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Judy, little Judy!" she sobbed. "Oh, Judy, what shall I do? My pain +is greater than I can bear."</p> + +<p>She knelt in this position for a long time. Her little sister's face was +distinctly seen in her mental vision; Judy seemed surrounded by a sort +of halo—but what of Jasper? Had all the love which united these two +hearts vanished like a dream? Was he never coming back to her? <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span>Would he +always misunderstand her? Oh, if she thought that, she would not stay +with him—she would go back to the Rectory and to Judy, and forget her +golden dream and turn back again to the old life. For three months she +would have been a wife. She would forget that time. She would own to +Jasper that she had made a mistake. She would be Hilda Merton once more. +Alas! alas! that could not be. Vows and ceremonies tied her. She had +stood beside the altar and given herself away. There was no going back +on that step. Jasper was not the Jasper of her dreams. He must have a +small mind not to understand Judy, and she had married him because she +thought his mind so big and his heart so great. After all, Judy was far +greater than Jasper.</p> + +<p>"My little Judy," she murmured again, and then she sank down a pitiable, +weak, inconsolable figure on the hearth-rug close to the expiring fire. +She thought over the scenes of the last night and longed to have them +back again.</p> + +<p>"If Judy's arms were round me, I should not feel so lonely," she +murmured. "Oh, Jasper, how can you turn from me? How can you fail to +understand that my heart at least is big enough to love both Judy and +you?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span>The lamp burnt dimly and the fire went completely out. Hilda presently +fell asleep in the darkness, and now a moonbeam shining into the drawing +room and falling across her tired face made it look white and unearthly, +almost like the face of a dead girl. It was in this attitude that +Quentyns found her when he came back somewhere between one and two +o'clock.</p> + +<p>His conscience was reproaching him, for Rivers, an old friend, had not +failed to give him a little spice of his mind; but he was just in that +irritable condition where repentance is almost impossible, and when +self-abasement only leads a man into further wrong-doing.</p> + +<p>When he saw Hilda's tired face, he said to himself with a sort of laugh:</p> + +<p>"If I don't encourage this sort of thing, I shall doubtless be more and +more of a tyrant in the eyes of my good wife and that precious +fastidious child and Rivers. Well, well, I cannot see the beauty of +voluntary martyrdom. If Hilda weren't quite such a goose, she would have +gone to bed two hours ago, instead of falling asleep here to the utter +disregard of her health and personal appearance."</p> + +<p>So Quentyns, looking cross and uninterested, shook his wife not too +gently; spoke in a commonplace tone, out of which he purposely excluded +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span>every scrap of emotion, and asked her how much longer she wanted to sit +up.</p> + +<p>Hilda stumbled to her feet without a word. She went upstairs and to bed, +but although her husband quickly slept, she lay awake until the morning.</p> + +<p>She came down to breakfast, looking tired and fagged. There were black +lines under her eyes, and when Quentyns asked her what was the matter, +she not only owned to a headache, but burst into tears.</p> + +<p>When a man is thoroughly cross, nothing irritates him more than tears on +the part of his wife, and Quentyns now so far forgot himself as to rise +hastily from the breakfast table and leave the room, slamming the door +behind him. He put in his head a moment later to nod to his wife and say +good-by.</p> + +<p>"If I'm late, don't wait dinner for me," he said, and then he left the +house. Hilda had plenty of time to wipe her tears away in the deserted +breakfast room. The pain at her heart was almost greater than she could +bear. Her gentle nature was stirred by what she considered gross +injustice on the part of her husband.</p> + +<p>"He does not care for me any more," she muttered. "I thought him great +and brave and good. I know he is clever; I suppose he is <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span>great, and +perhaps even good; but I am too small and too little for him—I fail to +understand him, and he does not love me any more. Oh, <a name="tnote" id="tnote"></a>if only little +Judy had stayed with me I should not feel as broken-hearted as I do at +present. if only little Judy had stayed with me, I should loneliness of +my life?"</p> + +<p>At this moment Hilda's dismal meditations were interrupted by the sound +of carriage wheels, which not only came rattling down the little street, +but stopped at the hall door. She started up in a fright, pushed back +her disordered hair from her flushed face, and the next moment found +herself in the voluminous embrace of Jasper's aunt, Lady Malvern.</p> + +<p>"My dear," exclaimed that good lady, "I must apologize for not looking +you up sooner, but I have been particularly busy; for Cynthia, my eldest +girl, has just got engaged and we are to have a wedding in the autumn +and all kinds of fuss; but I have not forgotten you, Hilda, and I have +just come to carry you off for the day. It is a lovely day, and we are +all going to drive to Richmond to picnic in the park. Run upstairs, my +love, and put on your hat and gloves. I mean to carry you off +immediately."</p> + +<p>"But Jasper has just gone to town—he will be so sorry to have missed +you," said Hilda.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span>"Well, I suppose I can endure life even though I have missed Jasper," +said Lady Malvern with a laugh. "In any case I want you, and so does +Cynthia. Cynthia has taken a great fancy to you, Hilda; so run away and +get ready. I will send a wire to your husband to come down and join us +later on. There now, will that content you, you poor, devoted little +soul?"</p> + +<p>Hilda smiled and a faint color came into her cheeks.</p> + +<p>"Run up to your room, my dear," said good-natured Lady Malvern. "Be as +quick as ever you can getting into the prettiest costume you have, for +we are to be quite a gay party, I can tell you. Now run off, dear, run +off, and pray don't keep me waiting a moment longer than you can help."</p> + +<p>Lady Malvern was the sort of person who never could bear anyone to say +"no" to her, and Hilda at first unwillingly, but presently with a sort +of elation and even defiance which was altogether foreign to her gentle +nature, prepared to make herself smart for her unexpected gayety. She +went upstairs, pulled out one of her prettiest trousseau dresses, and, +with hands that trembled, began to array herself in it.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Lady Malvern sat perfectly still in the tiny little dining +room, with a somewhat <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span>troubled look on her good-tempered face.</p> + +<p>"Now, what has Jasper been doing?" she said to herself. "That sweet +child doesn't look happy. Marks of tears round her eyes, flushed +cheeks—very low spirits. Dear, dear! this will never do. Not more than +three months from the wedding-day."</p> + +<p>Lady Malvern had seen very little of her nephew since his marriage. She +knew nothing, therefore, about Judy; but she was just that fussy, +good-natured, hearty sort of body who could not bear anyone with whom +she came in contact to be miserable.</p> + +<p>"I must set this right somehow or other," she said to herself. "Jasper +doesn't understand Hilda, and Hilda is wretched, and thinks, poor dear +little goose, that the sun will never shine again, and that life is +practically over for her. She does not know, how could she, poor +darling, how many rubs married people have to live through, and how +jolly and comfortable they are notwithstanding them. Well, well, I am +glad I called. I must set things right between this pair, whatever +happens."</p> + +<p>Lady Malvern little guessed, however, that she personally was to have +very little to do with smoothing the rumpled rose-leaves in Hilda's and +Jasper's lives.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span>When Mrs. Quentyns returned to the little dining room the flush on her +cheeks and the softened look in her sweet eyes but added to her beauty, +and when she found herself bowling away through the pleasant spring air +in her kind friend's company, in spite of herself, her spirits could not +help rising.</p> + +<p>Lady Malvern had a house in Hans Place, and there Cynthia and two +younger girls were waiting for them.</p> + +<p>The day was a perfect one, very warm and summery for the time of year, +and the young people all agreed that it was by no means too early in the +season to enjoy themselves even in this <em>al fresco</em> fashion.</p> + +<p>They were to end with tea at the "Star and Garter," and they all started +off now for this day's pleasure in the highest spirits.</p> + +<p>Hilda was quite young enough to enjoy such a proceeding immensely. As +space divided her from her little home in Philippa Terrace her spirits +rose, and now, if Judy had only been by her side, she would have felt +perfectly happy.</p> + +<p>By the time they reached Richmond Park all trace of tears and sorrow had +left her charming face, and she was one of the brightest and gayest of +the company.</p> + +<p>No one could make herself more useful than <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span>Hilda, and when her husband +appeared on the scene, he was a good deal astonished to see her flying +lightly about, ordering and directing the arrangements of the picnic +dinner. Her gay laughter floated to his ears on the summer breeze, her +cheeks were bright, her eyes shining. In short, she looked like that +charming Hilda who had won his heart in the old Rectory garden not a +year ago.</p> + +<p>Hilda was busily helping to concoct a salmon mayonnaise, when, raising +her eyes, she met her husband's gaze. He smiled back at her a look of +approval and love, and her heart rose considerably.</p> + +<p>There were other people present besides Jasper who thought Mrs. Quentyns +a very beautiful young woman. There were others waiting to show her the +most polite and gracious attentions, and these facts considerably +enhanced her value in her husband's eyes. In short, he began to fall in +love with his wife over again, and Judy for the time being was forgotten +by this pair.</p> + +<p>The day passed all too quickly, and at last the moment arrived when the +little party must turn their steps homeward.</p> + +<p>"You must both come home and have supper with us," said Lady Malvern to +her nephew <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span>and his wife. "Oh, yes, I shall take no denial; and now, +Jasper, will you drive Cynthia and her sister back to town? I mean Hilda +to accompany me."</p> + +<p>Jasper was all smiles and good-humor. He was willing to accede to any +arrangement which could add to the pleasures of the day, and Hilda, in +whose heart a faint hope had lingered that she and her husband might +have gone home together, followed Lady Malvern to her carriage with a +little sigh. The whole party was soon driving home. Lady Malvern and +Hilda had a small victoria to themselves. As soon as ever they left the +rest of the party, the older woman turned and gave a full glance at the +girl by her side.</p> + +<p>"Hilda," she said suddenly, "you look better than you did this morning."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I feel better," she replied. "You have done me lots of good," she +continued, raising her eyes with an affectionate light in them to Lady +Malvern's kind face.</p> + +<p>"I am delighted to have helped you, my love," replied the elder lady; +"and now, Hilda, I want to say something. You have been married very +little over three months. It is a very common illusion with girls to +imagine that married life is a time of perpetual bliss."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span>Hilda opened her lips to say something, but Lady Malvern interrupted.</p> + +<p>"My dear," she said, "you must hear me out. Married life is not a bed of +roses, and the first year which a young couple spend together is +generally the hardest of all."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" asked Mrs. Quentyns. "Why the first year?"</p> + +<p>"Because, my dear, the glamour is gradually being removed. The girl is +finding that the hero whom she married is a right good fellow, but still +that he is human; that he has his faults and his aggravations; that he +needs to be humored and consulted and petted, and to have his +smallnesses—yes, my dear, mark the word, his smallnesses—attended to. +The husband is making similar discoveries with regard to the lovely +angel whom he took to his arms. She, too, is mortal—affectionate, of +course, and sweet and womanly, and ten thousand times better than a real +angel would be to him, but still with her faults, her tempers, and her +fads. The young couple discover these things in each other during the +first two or three months of married life. All their future happiness +depends on how they both act, under the influence of these discoveries. +They have got to learn that, though they are made one by the priest, +they are both of them <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span>distinct individualities. If they are to be happy +together, they must both give and take. I know a married couple who are +now the happiest, prosiest, most attached old pair in the world, who +went through no end of storms during their first eventful year. But they +learned a lesson and profited by it. The wife does not now think her +husband the greatest hero that ever set foot on this earth, and the +husband does not call his wife an angel; but I think, if their love were +analyzed, it would be found greater, deeper, and more tender than that +early glamour which was love, but was not equal to the love tried by +fire which comes later in life. Now, my dear, you will forgive my little +lecture. If you had need of it, ponder my words; if not, forgive an old +woman for worrying you. Hilda, what a sweet, pretty little house you +have! I always knew that my nephew Jasper had good taste. I am so truly +glad that you have the same."</p> + +<p>While Lady Malvern was speaking, Hilda pulled down her veil, and +struggled hard to keep the tears from her brown eyes. She could not +quite manage this, however, and Lady Malvern, giving her a half-glance, +saw that her eyelashes were wet.</p> + +<p>She did not add any more in words, but she <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span>made up her mind to help the +young girl by every means in her power.</p> + +<p>They drove on rapidly. The horses were fresh, and they were getting over +the ground with great rapidity, when a quickly approaching train +startled one of the horses. At the same time a man on a bicycle darted +round the corner, and before he could help himself, knocked against the +carriage. The double shock was enough for the affrighted horses. They +plunged, reared, and became unmanageable, and the next moment the little +victoria was overturned, and Lady Malvern and Mrs. Quentyns were flung +with some violence on the pavement. Lady Malvern was not severely hurt, +and she sprang almost immediately to her feet, but the fright and fall +had stunned Hilda, who lay white and still on the ground without any +attempt at movement. The usual crowd of course collected, and it was on +this scene that Quentyns, in high good-humor, and forgetting for the +time being that there was a crumpled rose-leaf in the world, suddenly +came with some more of the picnic party. As a matter of course, they all +drew up. Quentyns was driving a high dog-cart. He sprang to the ground +and ran into the midst of the crowd. Then for the first time he realized +what had happened. His young wife, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span>looking as if she were dead, was +lying in Lady Malvern's arms. Lady Malvern was seated on a doorstep. +Some men were hastily coming forward with a shutter.</p> + +<p>"My God!" exclaimed Quentyns; "is she dead?"</p> + +<p>"No, my dear boy, no—only stunned," said Lady Malvern. "Here, take her +into your own arms, Jasper. You are stronger than I. Let her see your +face first when she opens her eyes. No medicine will be so reviving as +that."</p> + +<p>Here a woman came up and spoke to Lady Malvern.</p> + +<p>"I shall be only too pleased to have the young lady brought into my +house, madam," she said. "A very good doctor lives just round the +corner, and he can be summoned at once."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes; send for him immediately," said Quentyns.</p> + +<p>He strode into the house with his light burden. Hilda was laid upon a +sofa, and in a few moments the doctor arrived. He felt her all over and +said that no bones were broken, and that no severe injury of any kind +had occurred, but both fall and shock had been very severe. He counseled +her being left undisturbed in her present condition until the morning.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span>"Then I will go home," said Lady Malvern. "You will look after her +yourself, Jasper?"</p> + +<p>"Need you ask?" he replied. He followed his aunt to the door as he +spoke.</p> + +<p>"Hilda had a narrow escape of her life," said Lady Malvern, looking full +at her nephew as she spoke. "How sudden and awful it all was! There were +we chatting together, and thinking no more of danger than if such a +thing did not exist, when all in an instant came that awful bolt from +the blue. I shall never forget the swinging of the carriage and the way +the horses looked when they plunged and kicked about, or the white +piteous face of your sweet little Hilda, who would not scream nor show +any outward sign of terror. I thought it was all over with both of us—I +did really, Jasper. I cannot tell you how thankful we ought to be that +things are no worse."</p> + +<p>"You are sure then that Hilda is not in danger?" queried the young man +in a tremulous voice.</p> + +<p>"No, no; what did you hear the doctor say, you silly boy? Perhaps the +best thing that could have happened to Hilda was this accident, dreadful +as it was for the moment. Perhaps—well, Jasper, I think you must know +what I mean."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span>"Has Hilda been talking about me?" asked Jasper, a wave of red mounting +to his brow.</p> + +<p>"Talking about you?" replied his aunt, now thoroughly angry; "only in +the way that Hilda can talk of those whom she loves best on earth. +Jasper, you are the luckiest man in the world, and if you don't contrive +to make that sweet child the happiest woman, I for one will have nothing +to do with you again."</p> + +<p>"No fear, no fear, if she loves me in that way," murmured Jasper.</p> + +<p>He turned abruptly on his heel and went back to the room where his wife +lay. He was a very proud, reserved man, and even in moments of the +deepest agitation would scarcely reveal his real sentiments. But that +moment, when he had looked at his wife's white face and had thought that +she was dead, had shaken his whole nature to its very depths. He made a +discovery then that nothing in all the world was of any real value to +him compared with Hilda's love.</p> + +<p>"I have acted like a brute to her," he murmured. "Rivers was right. +She's too good for me—she's fifty times too good for me. My God, how +white she looks as she lies there! Suppose the doctor is wrong. Why +doesn't she speak or move? Why do they make so little of this continued +unconsciousness? I think I'll go <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span>for some further advice. Oh, my +darling, my darling, if you are dead, if your sweet life has been taken, +I shall never forgive myself—never!"</p> + +<p>But just then there was a faint stir of the heavily fringed lids which +lay against Hilda's white cheeks. The next moment the sweet brown eyes +were opened wide, and Hilda looked into her husband's face.</p> + +<p>"What has happened?" she asked drowsily. "I don't remember anything. +Where are we?"</p> + +<p>"Together, Hilda," he replied; "together. Does anything else really +matter?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, no!" she said, with a catch in her voice.</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>Next day Mrs. Quentyns was so far convalescent as to be able to return +to the little house in Philippa Terrace. Jasper, of course, accompanied +her. They had found a good deal to say to each other, between the moment +when she had opened her eyes the night before and now. Both had some +things to confess—both had some words of forgiveness to crave from the +other. So complete now had been the interchange of soul and of love +between this pair that it seemed impossible that anything could ever +separate such warm hearts again.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span>"And it has been all Judy's doing," said Jasper as they sat that +evening in the little drawing room.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" asked his wife.</p> + +<p>"Why," he answered, "if Judy had not brought matters to a crisis by +going away, we might have drifted further and further apart. But now we +must have her back again, Hilda. She has fulfilled her mission, dear +little soul, and now she must have her reward."</p> + +<p>"No," said Hilda, in a firm voice. "Judy shall have her reward, but not +by coming back. She did right to go. I could never, never have sent her +away, but she did right to go."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to tell me, Hilda, that you could be perfectly happy to +live without her?"</p> + +<p>"With you," she said, laying her hand on his arm, and looking into his +face with her sweet eyes shining through tears.</p> + +<p>He put his arms round her and kissed her many times.</p> + +<p>"Jasper," said Hilda after a few minutes, "I think the first wrong step +that I took—the first beginning of that unhappy time—was when I lost +my temper down at Little Staunton and gave up my engagement ring."</p> + +<p>"No wonder you lost your temper when I <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span>was such a brute about +everything," said Quentyns. "It was my fault."</p> + +<p>"No, no; it was mine."</p> + +<p>"Have you missed the ring, Hilda?"</p> + +<p>"Missed it?" she held up her slender finger. "My heart has been empty +without it," she said.</p> + +<p>"Then let me put it on again for you."</p> + +<p>"Can you? Is—isn't it sold?"</p> + +<p>"Of course not. Do you think that I could sell that ring?"</p> + +<p>"But—but the furniture in Judy's room?"</p> + +<p>"When I saw that you must have Judy with you, Hilda, I went into debt +for the furniture. Oh, never mind all that now, my darling—the debt is +paid in full a week ago, and I have the receipt in my pocket. Now I am +going upstairs to fetch the ring."</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span> +<a name="omens" id="omens"></a>CHAPTER XIX.<br /> + +<small>GOOD OMENS.</small></h2> + +<div class="block"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And so the shadows fall apart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And so the west winds play;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the windows of my heart<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I open to the day.<br /></span></div></div> +<p class="right smcap">—Whittier.</p> +</div> + + +<p>Mildred Anstruther was paying a visit at the Rectory on the day that +Rivers and Judy walked in. Rivers was a very striking-looking man, and +all the Rectory people were so devoured with curiosity about him, and so +interested in all he said and did—in his reasons for coming down to +Little Staunton, and in his remarks about the Quentyns—that Judy's own +return to the family circle passed into utter insignificance. She was +there—they had none of them expected her, and as she chose to come +back, she was welcome of course.</p> + +<p>It was a lovely day, and the whole party were out in the garden, when +Rivers and his little charge entered their midst.</p> + +<p>Judy wore her green cloak and pretty black shady hat. There was a new +sort of picturesqueness <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span>about her, which Aunt Marjorie noticed in an +abstracted way; she put it down to "the polish which even a short +residence in the metropolis always gives;" she had not the faintest idea +that it was due to the dignity which a noble action can inspire.</p> + +<p>Judy greeted everyone quite in her old manner, and was rather glad that +she was not fussed over, but taken quite as a matter-of-course.</p> + +<p>Aunt Marjorie was too anxious about the cream for Rivers' tea to give +serious thoughts to anyone else just then. But when the young man had +departed to catch the return train to London, then a few questions were +asked of Judy.</p> + +<p>"I thought you were going to live with Hilda," said Mildred, looking +curiously at the child.</p> + +<p>Mildred was standing a little apart from the others, and Judy, whose +face was pale, for the suffering of her self-sacrifice was still causing +her heart to ache horribly, looked full at her, and said in a low voice:</p> + +<p>"That turned out to be a mistake, so I've come home."</p> + +<p>"You brave little darling!" said Mildred, understanding everything like +a flash; she stooped and kissed Judy on her forehead.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span>Babs came rushing into the midst of the group.</p> + +<p>"Judy, Judy, I want you," she cried.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" asked Judy.</p> + +<p>"There's a butterfly coming out of a chrysalis in the butterfly-case; +come quick—he's moving his tail backward and forward—he'll soon be +out; come quick and see him."</p> + +<p>The dull look left Judy's eyes; they sparkled with a sudden, swift, +childish joy.</p> + +<p>She took Babs' hand, and they rushed away, right round to the back of +the house where the butterfly-case stood.</p> + +<p>"Let's take him out, poor darling," she said; "let's put him on a leaf, +and watch him as he gets out of his prison."</p> + +<p>Her eyes grew brighter and brighter; she bent low to watch the +resurrection which was going on.</p> + +<p>After all the chrysalis and the butterfly were emblems. They were good +omens to Judy that love and hope were not dead.</p> + + +<h3>THE END.</h3> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Young Mutineer, by Mrs. L. T. Meade + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A YOUNG MUTINEER *** + +***** This file should be named 24599-h.htm or 24599-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/5/9/24599/ + +Produced by David Edwards, Jacqueline Jeremy and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + +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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