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diff --git a/28925-h/28925-h.htm b/28925-h/28925-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b73a9a8 --- /dev/null +++ b/28925-h/28925-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,26306 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Lover or Friend, by Rosa Nouchette Carey</title> + <style type="text/css"> + + body { margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + p { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .75em; text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; } + p.noind { text-indent: 0em;} + .gap { margin-top: 2em;} + .dgap { margin-top: 4em;} + .bgap { margin-top: 6em;} + .center { text-align: center;} + .smcap { font-variant: small-caps;} + .sign { text-align: right; padding-right: 0.5em;} + .signlet { text-align: right; padding-right: 5em; } + .sep { letter-spacing: 2em; text-align: center;} + + h1, h2, h3, h4, h5, h6 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; + line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + h1 { font-size: 200%;} + h2 { font-size: 175%;} + h3 { font-size: 150%;} + h4 { font-size: 120%;} + h5 { font-size: 100%;} + h6, .sm { font-size: 80%;} + h1.pg {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: bold; + line-height: 1; margin-top: 0em; margin-bottom: 0em; + font-size: 190%; } + h3.pg {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: bold; + line-height: 1; margin-top: 0em; margin-bottom: 0em; + font-size: 110%; } + hr { width: 30%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; clear: both;} + hr.full { width: 100%;} + hr.pb { margin:30px 0; width:80%; border:none; border-top:thin dashed silver; } + + table { margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + td { vertical-align: bottom; } + .tdl { text-align: left; padding-right:4em; } + .tdr { text-align: right; padding-right:1em;} + + .pagenum { text-indent: 0em; position: absolute; left: 92%; font-size: 0.7em; + text-align: right; color: gray;} + .blockquot{ margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + .note { margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; + text-align: justify; font-size: .8em; + background-color: #eeeeee; padding: 10px;} + .box { margin: auto; border: solid 1px; text-align: justify; + width: 50%; padding: 1em;} + .thoughtbreak { letter-spacing: 4em; text-align: center; margin: 2em 0; } + .figcenter { margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + ul { text-align: justify; list-style: none; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 1em; + text-indent: -1em; } + ul.noind { text-indent: 0em; padding-left: 0em; } + ol { text-align: justify; } + li { margin-top: 0.3em; } + li.str { margin-top: 0em; } + + .stanza { margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em; } + .vind2 { text-indent: 1em; } + .vind6 { text-indent: 4em; } + .vind10 { text-indent: 10em; } + .verse vind2 vind6 vind10 { margin: 0em; } + + hr.pg { width: 100%; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + height: 4px; + border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ + border-style: solid; + border-color: #000000; + clear: both; } + pre {font-size: 85%;} + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h1 class="pg">The Project Gutenberg eBook, Lover or Friend, by Rosa Nouchette Carey</h1> +<pre> +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 <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: Lover or Friend</p> +<p>Author: Rosa Nouchette Carey</p> +<p>Release Date: May 22, 2009 [eBook #28925]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LOVER OR FRIEND***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3 class="pg">E-text prepared by David Clarke, Pilar Somoza Fernandez,<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="pg" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h1>LOVER OR FRIEND</h1> + + +<h5 class="bgap">BY</h5> + +<h2>ROSA NOUCHETTE CAREY</h2> + +<h6>AUTHOR OF 'NELLIE'S MEMORIES,' 'NOT LIKE OTHER GIRLS,' ETC.</h6> + + +<h4 class="bgap">MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED</h4> + +<h4>ST. MARTIN'S STREET, LONDON</h4> + +<h4>1915</h4> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="box"> +<h5>THE NOVELS OF</h5> + +<h2>ROSA NOUCHETTE CAREY</h2> + +<h6><span class="smcap">Popular Edition</span></h6> + +<h5><i>Crown 8vo. Cloth extra. 3s. 6d. each.</i></h5> + +<ul class="noind"> +<li class="str">NELLIE'S MEMORIES.</li> +<li class="str">WEE WIFIE.</li> +<li class="str">BARBARA HEATHCOTE'S TRIAL.</li> +<li class="str">ROBERT ORD'S ATONEMENT.</li> +<li class="str">WOOED AND MARRIED.</li> +<li class="str">HERIOT'S CHOICE.</li> +<li class="str">QUEENIE'S WHIM.</li> +<li class="str">MARY ST. JOHN.</li> +<li class="str">NOT LIKE OTHER GIRLS.</li> +<li class="str">FOR LILIAS.</li> +<li class="str">UNCLE MAX.</li> +<li class="str">ONLY THE GOVERNESS.</li> +<li class="str">LOVER OR FRIEND?</li> +<li class="str">BASIL LYNDHURST.</li> +<li class="str">SIR GODFREY'S GRAND-DAUGHTERS.</li> +<li class="str">THE OLD, OLD STORY.</li> +<li class="str">THE MISTRESS OF BRAE FARM.</li> +<li class="str">MRS. ROMNEY <span class="smcap">and</span> "BUT MEN MUST WORK."</li> +<li class="str">OTHER PEOPLE'S LIVES.</li> +<li class="str">HERB OF GRACE.</li> +<li class="str">THE HIGHWAY OF FATE.</li> +<li class="str">RUE WITH A DIFFERENCE.</li> +<li class="str">A PASSAGE PERILOUS.</li> +<li class="str">AT THE MOORINGS.</li> +<li class="str">THE HOUSEHOLD OF PETER.</li> +<li class="str">NO FRIEND LIKE A SISTER.</li> +<li class="str">THE ANGEL OF FORGIVENESS.</li> +<li class="str">THE SUNNY SIDE OF THE HILL.</li> +<li class="str">THE KEY OF THE UNKNOWN.</li> +</ul> + +<h4>MACMILLAN AND CO., <span class="smcap">Ltd.</span>, LONDON.</h4> +</div> + + +<hr class="pb"/> + +<h2>LOVER OR FRIEND</h2> + + + +<hr class="pb"/> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 200px;"> +<img src="images/ill.jpg" width="200" height="58" alt="Printer's mark" title="Printer's mark" /> +</div> + +<h5 class="gap">MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED</h5> + +<h6>LONDON · BOMBAY · CALCUTTA<br/> +MELBOURNE</h6> + +<h5>THE MACMILLAN COMPANY</h5> + +<h6>NEW YORK · BOSTON · CHICAGO<br/> +DALLAS · SAN FRANCISCO</h6> + +<h5>THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, LTD.</h5> + +<h6>TORONTO</h6> + + + +<hr class="pb"/> + +<h6>COPYRIGHT</h6> + +<h6><i>First Edition</i> 1890<br/> + +<i>Reprinted</i> 1893, 1894, 1898, 1899, 1901, 1902, 1904, 1906, 1910, 1915</h6> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<!--Page v--> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + + +<table summary="contents"> +<tr> +<td class="tdr"><span class="sm">CHAP.</span></td><td> </td><td class="tdr"><span class="sm">PAGE</span></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr">1.</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Blake Family are discussed</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">1</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr">2.</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Audrey introduces Herself</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">9</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr">3.</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Blake Family at Home</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">18</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr">4.</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Michael</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">28</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr">5.</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The New Master</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">36</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr">6.</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Gray Cottage</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">47</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr">7.</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Kester's Hero</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">56</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr">8.</td><td class="tdl">'<span class="smcap">I hope Better Things of Audrey</span>'</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">67</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr">9.</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Mat</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">78</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr">10.</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Priscilla Baxter</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">88</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr">11.</td><td class="tdl">'<span class="smcap">A Girl after my own Heart</span>'</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">97</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr">12.</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Mollie goes to Deep-Water Chine</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">107</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr">13.</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Geraldine gives her Opinion</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">117</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr">14.</td><td class="tdl">'<span class="smcap">I am sorry You asked the Question</span>'</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">126</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr">15.</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Blake has her New Gown</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">137</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr">16.</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Mollie lets the Cat out of the Bag</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">146</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr">17.</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Among the Brail Lanes</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">155</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr">18.</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">On a Scotch Moor</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">165</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr">19.</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Yellow Stockings on the Tapis</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">174</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr">20.</td><td class="tdl">'<span class="smcap">The Little Rift</span>'</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">183</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr">21.</td><td class="tdl">'<span class="smcap">He is very Brave</span>'</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">192</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr">22.</td><td class="tdl">'<span class="smcap">No, You have not spared Me</span>'</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">202</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr">23.</td><td class="tdl">'<span class="smcap">Daddy, I want to speak to You</span>'</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">210</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr">24.</td><td class="tdl">'<span class="smcap">I felt such a Culprit, You see</span>'</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">222</a></td> +<!--Page v--> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr">25.</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Mr. Harcourt speaks his Mind</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">232</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr">26.</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">How Geraldine took it to Heart</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">242</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr">27.</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">What Michael thought of it</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">252</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr">28.</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Michael turns over a New Leaf</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">261</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr">29.</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Two Family Events</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">269</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr">30.</td><td class="tdl">'<span class="smcap">I could not stand it any longer, Tom</span>'</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">278</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr">31.</td><td class="tdl">'<span class="smcap">Will You call the Guard?</span>'</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">286</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr">32.</td><td class="tdl">'<span class="smcap">I did not love Him</span>'</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">295</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr">33.</td><td class="tdl">'<span class="smcap">Shall You tell Him to-night?</span>'</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII">305</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr">34.</td><td class="tdl">'<span class="smcap">I must think of my Child, Mike</span>'</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV">313</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr">35.</td><td class="tdl">'<span class="smcap">Olive will acknowledge Anything</span>'</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXV">323</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr">36.</td><td class="tdl">'<span class="smcap">How can I bear it?</span>'</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVI">332</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr">37.</td><td class="tdl">'<span class="smcap">I shall never be Free</span>'</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVII">341</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr">38.</td><td class="tdl">'<span class="smcap">Who will comfort Him?</span>'</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVIII">351</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr">39.</td><td class="tdl">'<span class="smcap">You will live it down</span>'</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIX">360</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr">40.</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Michael accepts his Charge</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XL">368</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr">41.</td><td class="tdl">'<span class="smcap">There shall be Peace between Us</span>'</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XLI">378</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr">42.</td><td class="tdl">'<span class="smcap">Will You shake Hands with your Father?</span>'</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XLII">389</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr">43.</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Michael's Letter</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XLIII">399</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr">44.</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Mollie goes into Exile</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XLIV">409</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr">45.</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Audrey receives a Telegram</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XLV">418</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr">46.</td><td class="tdl">'<span class="smcap">Inasmuch</span>'</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XLVI">426</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr">47.</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">A Strange Expiation</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XLVII">435</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr">48.</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">On Michael's Bench</span> </td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XLVIII">445</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr">49.</td><td class="tdl">'<span class="smcap">Let your Heart plead for Me</span>'</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XLIX">456</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr">50.</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Booty's Master</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_L">464</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr">51.</td><td class="tdl">'<span class="smcap">Love's Aftermath</span>'</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_LI">472</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">{1}</a></span></p> + + +<h1>LOVER OR FRIEND?</h1> + + + +<h2 class="gap"><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3>THE BLAKE FAMILY ARE DISCUSSED</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>'There is nothing, sir, too little for so little a creature as man. It is +by studying little things that we attain the great art of having as little +misery and as much happiness as possible.'—<span class="smcap">Dr. Johnson.</span></p></div> + + +<p>Everyone in Rutherford knew that Mrs. Ross was ruled by +her eldest daughter; it was an acknowledged fact, obvious not +only to a keen-witted person like Mrs. Charrington, the head-master's +wife, but even to the minor intelligence of Johnnie +Deans, the youngest boy at Woodcote. It was not that Mrs. +Ross was a feeble-minded woman; in her own way she was +sensible, clear-sighted, with plenty of common-sense; but she +was a little disposed to lean on a stronger nature, and even +when Geraldine was in the schoolroom, her energy and youthful +vigour began to assert themselves, her opinions insensibly influenced +her mother's, until at last they swayed her entirely.</p> + +<p>If this were the case when Geraldine was a mere girl, it +was certainly not altered when the crowning glories of matronhood +were added to her other perfections. Six months ago +Geraldine Ross had left her father's house to become the wife +of Mr. Harcourt, of Hillside; and in becoming the mistress +of one of the coveted Hill houses, Geraldine had not yet +consented to lay down the sceptre of her home rule.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ross had acquiesced cheerfully in this arrangement. +She had lost her right hand in losing Geraldine; and during +the brief honeymoon both she and her younger daughter<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">{2}</a></span> +Audrey felt as though the home machinery were somewhat +out of gear. No arrangement could be effected without a +good deal of wondering on Mrs. Ross's part as to what +Geraldine might think of it, and without a lengthy letter being +written on the subject.</p> + +<p>It was a relief, at least to her mother's mind, when young +Mrs. Harcourt returned, and without a word took up the reins +again. No one disputed her claims. Now and then there +would be a lazy protest from Audrey—a concealed sarcasm +that fell blunted beneath the calm amiability of the elder sister. +Geraldine was always perfectly good-tempered; the sense of +propriety that guided all her actions never permitted her to +grow hot in argument; and when a person is always in the +right, as young Mrs. Harcourt believed herself to be, the small +irritations of daily life fall very harmlessly. It is possible for +a man to be so cased in armour that even a pin-prick of +annoyance will not find ingress. It is true the armour may +be a little stifling and somewhat inconvenient for work-a-day +use, but it is a grand thing to be saved from pricks.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Harcourt was presiding at the little tea-table in the +Woodcote drawing-room; there were only two other persons in +the room. It was quite an understood thing that the young +mistress of Hillside should walk over to Woodcote two or three +afternoons in the week, to give her mother the benefit of her +society, and also to discuss any little matter that might have +arisen during her brief absence.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Harcourt was an exceedingly handsome young woman; +in fact, many people thought her lovely. She had well-cut +features, a good complexion—with the soft, delicate colouring +that only perfect health ever gives—and a figure that was at +once graceful and dignified. To add to all these attractions, +she understood the art of dressing herself; her gowns always +fitted her to perfection. She was always attired suitably, and +though vanity and self-consciousness were not her natural +foibles, she had a feminine love of pretty things, and considered +it a wifely duty to please the eyes of her lord and master.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Harcourt had the old-fashioned sugar-tongs in her +hand, and was balancing them lightly for a moment. 'It is +quite true, mother,' she said decisively, as she dropped the +sugar into the shallow teacup.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ross looked up from her knitting.</p> + +<p>'My dear Geraldine, I do hope you are mistaken,' she +returned anxiously.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">{3}</a></span></p> + +<p>Mrs. Ross had also been a very pretty woman, and even +now she retained a good deal of pleasant middle-aged comeliness. +She was somewhat stout, and had grown a little inactive +in consequence; but her expression was soft and motherly, and +she had the unmistakable air of a gentlewoman. In her +husband's eyes she was still handsomer than her daughters; +and Dr. Ross flattered himself that he had made the all-important +choice of his life more wisely than other men.</p> + +<p>'My dear mother, how is it possible to be mistaken?' +returned her daughter, with a shade of reproof in her voice. +'I told you that I had a long talk with Edith. Michael, I +have made your tea; I think it is just as you like it—with no +infusion of tannin, as you call it'; and she turned her head +slowly, so as to bring into view the person she was addressing, +and who, seated at a little distance, had taken no part in the +conversation.</p> + +<p>He was a thin, pale man, of about five or six and thirty, +with a reddish moustache. As he crossed the room in response +to this invitation, he moved with an air of languor that +amounted to lassitude, and a slight limp was discernible. His +features were plain; only a pair of clear blue eyes, with a +peculiarly searching expression, distinguished him from a hundred +men of the same type.</p> + +<p>These eyes were not always pleasant to meet. Certain +people felt disagreeably in their inner consciousness that Captain +Burnett could read them too accurately—'No fellow has a +right to look you through and through,' as one young staff +officer observed; 'it is taking a liberty with a man. Burnett +always seems as though he is trying to turn a fellow inside +out, to get at the other side of him'—not a very eloquent +description of a would-be philosopher who loved to dabble a +little in human foibles.</p> + +<p>'I have been listening to the Blake discussion,' he said +coolly, as he took the offered cup. 'What a wonderful woman +you are, Gage! you have a splendid talent for organisation; +and even a thorough-paced scandal has to be organised.'</p> + +<p>'Scandal!—what are you talking about, Michael?'</p> + +<p>'Your talent for organisation, even in trifles,' he returned +promptly. 'I am using the word advisedly. I have just +been reading De Quincey's definition of talent and genius. He +says—now pray listen, Gage—that "talent is intellectual power +of every kind which acts and manifests itself by and through +the will and the active forces. Genius, as the verbal origin<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">{4}</a></span> +implies, is that much rarer species of intellectual power which +is derived from the genial nature, from the spirit of suffering +and enjoying, from the spirit of pleasure and pain, as organised +more or less perfectly; and this is independent of the will. It +is a function of the passive nature. Talent is conversant with +the adaptation of means to ends; but genius is conversant only +with ends."'</p> + +<p>'My dear Michael, I have no doubt that all this is exceedingly +clever, and that your memory is excellent, but why are +we to be crushed beneath all this analysis?'</p> + +<p>'I was only drawing a comparison between you and Audrey,' +he replied tranquilly. 'I have been much struck by the idea +involved in the word "genial"; I had no conception we could +evolve "genius" out of it. Audrey is a very genial person; +she also, in De Quincey's words, "moves in headlong sympathy +and concurrence with spontaneous power." This is his definition, +mark you; I lay no claim to it: "Genius works under a +rapture of necessity and spontaneity." I do love that expression, +"headlong sympathy"; it so well expresses the way Audrey +works.'</p> + +<p>Mrs. Harcourt gave a little assenting shrug. She was not +quite pleased with the turn the conversation had taken; abstract +ideas were not to her taste; the play of words in which Captain +Burnett delighted bored her excessively. She detected, too, a +spice of irony. The comparison between her and Audrey was +not a flattering one: she was far cleverer than Audrey; her +masters and governesses would have acknowledged that fact. +And yet her cousin Michael was giving the divine gift of +genius to her more scantily endowed sister; genius! but, of +course, it was only Michael's nonsense: he would say anything +when he was in the humour for disputation. Even her +own Percival had these contentious moods. The masculine +mind liked to play with moral ninepins, to send all kinds +of exploded theories rolling with their little ball of wit; it +sharpened their argumentative faculties, and kept them bright +and ready for use.</p> + +<p>'Mother and I were talking about these tiresome Blakes—not +of Audrey,' she said in a calm, matter-of-fact tone. 'If +you were listening, Michael, you must have heard the whole +account of my conversation with Mrs. Bryce.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, you mean Harcourt's sister, with whom you have +been staying. Did I not tell you that I had heard every +word, and was admiring your admirable tactics? The way in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">{5}</a></span> +which you marshalled your forces of half-truths and implied +verities and small mounted theories was grand—absolutely +grand!'</p> + +<p>Mrs. Harcourt was silent for a moment. Michael was very +trying; he often exercised her patience most severely. But +there was a threefold reason for her forbearance; first, he was +her father's cousin, and beloved by him as his own son would +have been if he had ever had one; secondly, his ill-health +entitled him to a good deal of consideration from any kind-hearted +woman; and thirdly, and perhaps principally, he had +the reputation for saying and doing odd, out-of-the-way things; +and a man who moves in an eccentric circle of his own is never +on other people's plane, and therefore some allowance must be +made for him.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Harcourt could, however, have heartily endorsed Mrs. +Carlyle's opinion of her gifted son, and applied it to her cousin—'He +was ill to live with.' Somehow one loves this honest, +shrewd criticism of the old North-Country woman, the homely +body who smoked short black pipes in the chimney-corner, but +whom Carlyle loved and venerated from the bottom of his big +heart. 'Ill to live with'—perhaps Michael Burnett, with his +injured health and Victoria Cross, and the purpose of his life +all marred and frustrated, was not the easiest person in the +world.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Harcourt was silent for an instant; but she never +permitted herself to be ruffled, so she went on in her smooth +voice:</p> + +<p>'I felt it was my duty to repeat to mother all that Edith—I +mean Mrs. Bryce—told me about the Blakes.'</p> + +<p>'Please do not be so formal. I infinitely prefer that fine, +princess-like name of Edith,' remarked Michael, with a lazy +twinkle in his eyes; but Mrs. Harcourt would not condescend +even to notice the interruption.</p> + +<p>'Mrs. Bryce,' with a pointed emphasis on the name, 'was +much concerned when she heard that my father had engaged +Mr. Blake for his classical master.'</p> + +<p>'And why so?' demanded Captain Burnett a little sharply. +'He has taken a good degree; Dr. Ross seems perfectly +satisfied with him.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, there is nothing against the young man; he is clever +and pleasant, and very good-looking. It is only the mother +who is so objectionable. Perhaps I am putting it too strongly—only +Mrs. Bryce and her husband did not like her. They<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">{6}</a></span> +say she is a very unsatisfactory person, and so difficult to understand.'</p> + +<p>'Poor Mrs. Blake,' ejaculated her cousin, 'to be judged +before the Bryce tribunal and found wanting!'</p> + +<p>'Don't be ridiculous, Michael!' replied Mrs. Harcourt, in +her good-tempered way; 'of course you take her part simply +because she is accused: you are like Audrey in that.'</p> + +<p>'You see we are both genial persons; but, seriously, Mrs. +Blake's list of misdemeanours seems absurdly trifling. She is +very handsome; that is misdemeanour number one, I believe.'</p> + +<p>'My dear,' observed Mrs. Ross placidly at this point, for +she had been too busy counting her stitches to concern herself +with the strife of words, 'Geraldine only mentioned that as a +fact: she remarked that Mrs. Blake was a very prepossessing +person, that she had rather an uncommon type of beauty.'</p> + +<p>'That makes her all the more interesting,' murmured +Captain Burnett, with his eyes half closed. 'I begin to feel +quite excited about this Mrs. Blake. I do delight in anything +out of the common.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, Edith never denied that she was fascinating. She is +a clever woman, too; only there were certain little solecisms +committed that made her think Mrs. Blake was not a thorough +gentlewoman. They are undoubtedly very poor; and though, +of course, that is no objection, it is so absurd for people in such +a position to try and ignore their little shifts and contrivances. +Honest poverty is to be respected, but not when it is allied to +pretension.'</p> + +<p>'My dear Gage, was it you or Mrs. Bryce who made that +exceedingly clever speech! It was really worthy of Dr. Johnson; +it only wanted a "Sir" to point the Doctor's style. "Sir, +honest poverty is to be respected, but not when it is allied to +pretension"—a good, thorough Johnsonian speech! And so +the poor woman is poor?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, but no one minds that,' returned Mrs. Harcourt, +somewhat hastily. 'I hope you do not think that anything +in her outward circumstances has prejudiced my sister-in-law +against her. As far as that goes, Mrs. Blake deserves credit; +she has denied herself comforts even to give her son a good +education. No, it is something contradictory in the woman +herself that made the Bryces say they would never get on with +her. She is impulsive, absurdly impulsive; and yet at the +same time she is reserved. She has a bad temper—at least, +Edith declares she has heard her scolding her servant in no<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">{7}</a></span> +measured terms; and then she is so injudicious with her +children. She absolutely adores her eldest son, Cyril; but +Edith will have it that she neglects her daughter. And there +is an invalid boy, too—a very interesting little fellow; at least, +I don't know how old he is—and she is not too attentive to +him. Housekeeping worries her, and she is fond of society; +and I know the Bryces think that she would marry again if +she got the chance.'</p> + +<p>'Let the younger widows marry. I hope you do not mean +to contradict St. Paul. Have we quite finished the indictment, +Gage? Be it known unto the inhabitants of Rutherford that a +certain seditious and dangerous person of the name of Blake is +about to take up her residence in the town—the list of her misdemeanours +being as follows, to wit, as they say in old chronicles: +an uncommon style of beauty, an inclination to replace the +deceased Mr. Blake, imperfect temper, impulsiveness tempered +with reserve, unconventionality of habit, poverty combined with +pretentiousness, and a disposition to slight her maternal duties—really +a most interesting person!'</p> + +<p>'Michael, of course you say that to provoke me; please +don't listen to him, mother. You understand me if no one else +does; you know it is Audrey of whom I am thinking. Yes,' +turning to her cousin, 'you may amuse yourself with turning +all my speeches into ridicule, but in your heart you agree with +me. I have often heard you lecturing Audrey on her impulsiveness +and want of common-sense. It will be just like her to +strike up a violent friendship with Mrs. Blake—you know how +she takes these sudden fancies; and father is quite as bad. I +daresay they will both discover she is charming before twenty-four +hours are over; that is why I am begging mother to be +very prudent, and keep the Blakes at a distance.'</p> + +<p>'You agree, of course, Cousin Emmeline?'</p> + +<p>'Well, my dear, I don't quite like the account Geraldine +gives me. Mrs. Bryce is a very shrewd person; she is not +likely to make mistakes. I think I shall give Audrey a hint, +unless you prefer to do so, Geraldine.'</p> + +<p>'I think it will come better from me, mother; you see, +I shall just retail Edith's words. Audrey is a little difficult +to manage sometimes; she likes to form her own notions of +people. There is no time to be lost if they are coming in +to-morrow.'</p> + +<p>'I thought your father said it was to-day that they were +expected?'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">{8}</a></span></p> + +<p>'No; I am positive Percival said to-morrow. I know the +old servant and some of the furniture arrived at the Gray +Cottage two days ago.'</p> + +<p>Captain Burnett looked up quickly, as though he were about +to speak, and then changed his mind, and went on with his +occupation, which was teaching a small brown Dachs-hund the +Gladstone trick.</p> + +<p>'Now, Booty, when I say "Lord Salisbury," you are to eat +the sugar, but not before. Ah, here comes the bone of contention!' +he went on in a purposely loud tone, as a shadow +darkened the window; and the next minute a tall young lady +stepped over the low sill into the room.</p> + +<p>'Were you talking about me?' she asked in a clear voice, +as she looked round at them. 'How do you do, Gage? Have +you been here all the afternoon? How is Percival? No more +tea, thank you; I have just had some—at the Blakes'.'</p> + +<p>'At the Blakes'?' exclaimed her sister, in a horror-stricken +tone, unable to believe her ears.</p> + +<p>'Yes. I heard they had come in last night, so I thought it +would be only neighbourly to call and see if one could do +anything for them. I met father on the Hill, and he quite +approved. Mrs. Blake sends her compliments to you, mother;' +and as only an awful silence answered her, she continued +innocently: 'I am sure you and Gage will like her. She is +charming—perfectly charming! the nicest person I have seen +for a long time!' finished Audrey, with delightful unconsciousness +of the sensation she was creating.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">{9}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3>AUDREY INTRODUCES HERSELF</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>'Indeed, all faults, had they been ten times more and greater, would +have been neutralised by that supreme expression of her features, to the +unity of which every lineament in the fixed parts, and every undulation +in the moving parts of her countenance, concurred, viz., a sunny benignity, +a radiant graciousness, such as in this world I never saw surpassed.'</p> + +<p class="sign"><span class="smcap">De Quincey.</span></p></div> + + +<p>In this innocent fashion had Audrey Ross solved the Gordian +knot of family difficulty, leaving her mother and sister eyeing +each other with the aghast looks of defeated conspirators; and +it must be owned that many a tangled skein, that would have +been patiently and laboriously unravelled by the skilled fingers +of Geraldine, was spoilt in this manner by the quick impulsiveness +of Audrey.</p> + +<p>No two sisters could be greater contrasts to each other. +While young Mrs. Harcourt laid an undue stress on what may +be termed the minor morals, the small proprieties, and lesser +virtues that lie on the surface of things and give life its polish, +Audrey was for ever riding full-tilt against prejudices or raising +a crusade against what she chose to term 'the bugbear of +feminine existence—conventionality.'</p> + +<p>Not that Audrey was a strong-minded person or a stickler +for woman's rights. She had no advanced notions, no crude +theories, on the subject of emancipation; it was only, to borrow +Captain Burnett's words, that her headlong sympathies carried +her away; a passionate instinct of pity always made her range +herself on the losing side. Her virtues were unequally +balanced, and her generosity threatened to degenerate into +weakness. Most women love to feel the support of a stronger +nature; Audrey loved to support others; any form of suffering, +mental or physical, appealed to her irresistibly. Her sympathy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">{10}</a></span> +was often misplaced and excessive, and her power of self-effacement, +under some circumstances, was even more remarkable, +the word 'self-effacement' being rightly used here, as +'self-sacrifice' presupposes some consciousness of action. It +was this last trait that caused genuine anxiety to those who +knew and loved Audrey best; for who can tell to what lengths +a generous nature may go, to whom any form of pain is +intolerable, and every beggar, worthy or unworthy, a human +brother or sister, with claims to consideration?</p> + +<p>If Audrey were not as clever as her elder sister, she had +more originality; she was also far more independent in her +modes of action and thought, and went on her own way without +reference to others.</p> + +<p>'It is not that I think myself wiser than other people,' she +said once to her cousin, who had just been delivering her a +lecture on this subject. 'Of course I am always making mistakes—everyone +does; but you see, Michael, I have lived so +long with myself—exactly two-and-twenty years—and so I +must know most about myself, and what is best for this young +person,' tapping herself playfully.</p> + +<p>Audrey was certainly not so handsome as her sister. She +had neither Geraldine's perfection of feature nor her exquisite +colouring; but she had her good points, like other people.</p> + +<p>Her hair was soft and brown, and there was a golden tinge +in it that was greatly admired. There was also a depth and +expression in her gray eyes that Geraldine lacked. But the +charm of Audrey's face was her smile. It was no facial contortion, +no mere lip service; it was a heart illumination—a +sudden radiance that seemed to light up every feature, and +which brought a certain lovely dimple into play.</p> + +<p>And there was one other thing noticeable in Audrey, and +which brought the sisters into still sharper contrast. She was +lamentably deficient in taste, and, though personally neat, was +rather careless on the subject of dress. She liked an old gown +better than a new one, was never quite sure which colour +suited her best, and felt just as happy paying a round of calls +in an old cambric as in the best tailor-made gown. It was on +this subject that she and Geraldine differed most. No amount +of spoken wisdom could make Audrey see that she was neglecting +her opportunities to a culpable degree; that while other +forms of eccentricity might be forgiven, the one unpardonable +sin in Geraldine's code was Audrey's refusal to make the best +of herself.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">{11}</a></span></p> + +<p>'And you do look so nice when you are well dressed,' she +observed with mournful affection on one occasion when Audrey +had specially disappointed her. 'You have a beautiful figure—Madame +Latouche said so herself—and yet you would wear +that hideous gown Miss Sewell has made, and at Mrs. Charrington's +"at home," too.'</p> + +<p>'How many people were affected by this sad occurrence?' +asked Audrey scornfully. 'My dear Gage, your tone is truly +tragical. Was it my clothes or me—poor little me!—that +Mrs. Charrington invited and wanted to see? Do you know, +Michael,' for that young man was present, 'I have such a +grand idea for the future; a fashion to come in with Wagner's +music, and æsthetics, and female lawyers—in fact, an advanced +theory worthy of the nineteenth century. You know how +people hate "at homes," and how bored they are, and how +they grumble at the crush and the crowd.'</p> + +<p>'Well, I do believe they are hideous products of civilisation,' +he returned with an air of candour.</p> + +<p>'Just so; well, now for my idea. Oh, I must send it to +<i>Punch</i>, I really must. My proposition is that people should +send their card by their lady's-maid, and also the toilette +intended for that afternoon, to be inspected by the hostess. +Can you not imagine the scene? First comes the announcement +by the butler: "Lady Fitzmaurice's clothes." Enter +smiling lady's-maid, bearing a wondrously braided skirt with +plush mantle and bonnet with pheasant's wing. Hostess bows, +smiles, and inspects garments through her eyeglasses. "Charming! +everything Lady Fitzmaurice wears is in such perfect +taste. My dear Cecilia, that bonnet would just suit me—make +a note of it, please. My compliments to her ladyship." +Now then for Mrs. Grenville, and so on. Crowds still, you +see, but no hand-shaking, no confusion of voices; and then, +the wonderful economy: no tea and coffee, no ices, no professional +artistes, only a little refreshment perhaps in the servants' +hall.'</p> + +<p>'Audrey, how can you talk such nonsense?' returned her +sister severely.</p> + +<p>But Captain Burnett gave his low laugh of amusement. +He revelled in the girl's odd speeches; he thought Audrey's +nonsense worth more than all Geraldine's sense, he even +enjoyed with a man's <i>insouciance</i> her daring disregard of +conventionality.</p> + +<p>How difficult it is for a person thoroughly to know him or<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">{12}</a></span> +her self, unless he or she be morbidly addicted to incessant +self-examination! Audrey thought that it was mere neighbourliness +that induced her to call on the Blakes that afternoon; +she had no idea that a strong curiosity made her wish to +interview the new-comers.</p> + +<p>Rutherford was far too confined an area for a liberal mind +like Audrey's. Her large and intense nature demanded fuller +scope for its energies. With the exception of boys—who certainly +preponderated in Rutherford—there were far too few +human beings to satisfy Audrey. Every fresh face was therefore +hailed by her with joy, and though perhaps she hardly +went to Dr. Johnson's length when he complained that he +considered that day lost on which he had not made a new +acquaintance, still, her social instincts were not sufficiently +nourished. The few people were busy people; they had a +tiresome habit, too, of forming cliques, and in many ways they +disappointed her. With her richer neighbours, especially +among the Hill houses, Geraldine was the reigning favourite; +Mrs. Charrington was devoted to her. Only little Mrs. Stanfield, +of Rosendale, thought there was no one in the world like +dear Audrey Ross.</p> + +<p>Audrey would not have mentioned her little scheme to her +mother for worlds. Her mother was not a safe agent. She +had long ago made Geraldine her conscience-keeper, but she +had no objection to tell her father when she met him walking +down the hill with his hands behind him, and evidently revolving +his next Sunday's sermon.</p> + +<p>Dr. Ross was rather a fine-looking man. He had grown +gray early, and his near-sight obliged him to wear spectacles; +but his keen, clever face, and the benevolent and kindly air +that distinguished him, always attracted people to him. At +times he was a little absent and whimsical; and those who +knew them both well declared that Audrey had got all her +original ideas and unconventional ways from the Doctor.</p> + +<p>'Father, I am going to call on the Blakes,' she observed, +as he was about to pass her as he would a stranger.</p> + +<p>'Dear me, Audrey, how you startled me! I was deep in +original sin, I believe. The Blakes? Oh, I told young +Blake to come up to dinner to-night; I want Michael to see +him. Very well. Give my respects to Mrs. Blake; and if +there be any service we can render her, be sure you offer it;' +and Dr. Ross walked on, quite unconscious that his daughter +had retraced her steps, and was following him towards the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">{13}</a></span> +town. 'For I won't disturb him with my chatter,' she +thought, 'and I may as well go to Gage to-morrow; she is +sure to keep me, and then it would be rather awkward if she +should take it into her head to talk about the Blakes. She +might want to go with me, or perhaps, which is more likely, +she would make a fuss about my going so soon. If you want +to do a thing, do it quickly, and without telling anyone, is my +motto. Father is no one. If I were going to run away from +home, or do anything equally ridiculous, I should be sure to +tell father first; he would only recommend me to go first class, +and be sure to take a cab at the other end, bless him!'</p> + +<p>Dr. Ross walked on in a leisurely, thoughtful fashion, not +too abstracted, however, to wave his hand slightly as knots of +boys saluted him in passing. Audrey had a nod and smile for +them all. At the Hill houses and at the school-house Geraldine +might be the acknowledged favourite; but every boy in the +upper and the lower school was Audrey's sworn adherent. She +was their liege lady, for whom they were proud to do service; +and more than one of the prefects cherished a tremulous passion +for the Doctor's daughter together with his budding moustache, +and, strange to say, was none the worse for the mild disease.</p> + +<p>A pleasant lane led from the Hill to the town, with sloping +meadows on one side. It was a lovely afternoon in June, and +groups of boys were racing down the field path on their way to +the cricket ground. Audrey looked after them with a vivid +interest. 'How happy they all look!' she said to herself. 'I +do believe a boy—a real honest, healthy English boy—is one of +the finest things in the creation. They are far happier than +girls; they have more freedom, more zest, in their lives. +If they work hard, they play well; every faculty of mind and +body is trained to perfection. Look at Willie Darner running +down that path! he is just crazy with the summer wind and +the frolic of an afternoon's holiday. There is nothing to match +with his enjoyment, unless it be a kitten sporting with the +flying leaves, or a butterfly floating in the sunshine. He has +not a care, that boy, except how he is to get over the ground +fast enough.'</p> + +<p>Audrey had only a little bit of the town to traverse, but her +progress was almost as slow and stately as a queen's. She had +so many friends to greet, so many smiles and nods and how-d'ye-do's +to execute; but at last she arrived at her destination. +The Gray Cottage was a small stone house, placed between +Dr. Ross's house and the school-house, with two windows overlooking<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">{14}</a></span> +the street. The living-rooms were at the back, and the +view from them was far pleasanter, as Audrey well knew. +From the drawing-room one looked down on the rugged court +of the school-house, and on the gray old arches, through which +one passed to the chapel and library. The quaint old buildings, +with the stone façade, hoary with age, was the one feature of +interest that always made Audrey think the Gray Cottage one +of the pleasantest houses in Rutherford. Audrey knew every +room. She had looked out on the old school-house often and +often; she knew exactly how it looked in the moonlight, or on +a winter's day when the snow lay on the ground, and the +ruddy light of a December sunset tinged the windows and threw +a halo over the old buildings. But she liked to see it best in +the dim starlight, when all sorts of shadows seemed to lurk +between the arches, and a strange, solemn light invested it with +a legendary and imaginative interest.</p> + +<p>A heavy green gate shut off the Gray Cottage from the +road. Audrey opened it, and walked up to the door, which +had always stood open in the old days when her friends, the +Powers, had lived there. It was open now; a profusion of +packing-cases blocked up the spacious courtyard, and a black +retriever was lying on some loose straw—evidently keeping +watch and ward over them. He shook himself lazily as Audrey +spoke to him, and then wagged his tail in a friendly fashion, +and finally uttered a short bark of welcome.</p> + +<p>Audrey stooped down and stroked his glossy head. She +always made friends with every animal—she had a large four-footed +acquaintance with whom she was on excellent terms—from +Jenny, the cobbler's donkey, down to Tim, the little white +terrier that belonged to the sweep. She had just lost her own +companion and follower, a splendid St. Bernard puppy, and +had not yet replaced him. As she fondled the dog, she heard +a slight sound near her, and, looking up, met the inquiring +gaze of a pair of wide-open brown eyes. They belonged to a +girl of fourteen, a slight, thin slip of a girl in a shabby dress +that she had outgrown, and thick dark hair tied loosely with a +ribbon, and falling in a wavy mass over her shoulders, and a +small sallow face, looking at the present moment very shy and +uncomfortable.</p> + +<p>'If you please,' she began timidly, and twisting her hands +awkwardly as she spoke, 'mamma is very tired and has gone to +lie down. We only moved in yesterday, and the place is in +such a muddle.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">{15}</a></span></p> + +<p>'Of course it is in a muddle,' replied Audrey in her +pleasant, easy fashion. 'That is exactly why I called—to see +if I could be of any assistance. I am Miss Ross, from the +lower school—will you let me come in and speak to you? You +are Miss Blake, are you not?'</p> + +<p>'Yes; I am Mollie,' returned the girl, reddening and +looking still more uncomfortable. 'I am very sorry, Miss +Ross—and it is very good of you to call so soon—but there is +no place fit to ask you to sit down. Biddy is such a bad +manager. She ought to have got things far more comfortable +for us, but she is old—and——'</p> + +<p>'Miss Mollie, where am I to find the teapot?' called out a +voice belonging to some invisible body—a voice with the unmistakable +brogue. 'There's the mistress just dying for a cup +of tea, and how will I be giving it to her without the teapot? +and it may be in any of those dozen hampers—bad luck +to it!'</p> + +<p>'I am coming, Biddy,' sighed the girl wearily, and the flush +of annoyance deepened in her cheek.</p> + +<p>Somehow, that tired young face, burdened with some +secret care, appealed to Audrey's quick sympathies. She put +out her hand and gave her a light push as she stood blocking +up the entry.</p> + +<p>'My dear, I will help you look for the teapot,' she said in +the kindest voice possible. 'You are just tired to death, and +of course it is natural that your mother should want her +tea. If we cannot find it, I will run round and borrow one +from the Wrights. Everyone knows what moving is—one has +to undergo all sorts of discomforts. Let me put down my sunshade +and lace scarf, and then you will see how useful I can +be'; and Audrey walked into the house, leaving Mollie tongue-tied +with astonishment, and marched into the dining-room, +which certainly looked a chaos—with dusty chairs, tables, half-emptied +hampers, books, pictures, all jumbled up together with +no sort of arrangement, just as the men had deposited them +from the vans. Here, however, she paused, slightly taken +aback by the sight of another dark head, which raised itself +over the sofa-cushions, while another pair of brown eyes +regarded her with equal astonishment.</p> + +<p>'It is only Kester,' whispered Mollie. 'I think he was +asleep. Kester, Miss Ross kindly wishes to help us a little—but—did +you ever see such a place?' speaking in a tone of +disgust and shrugging her shoulders.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">{16}</a></span></p> + +<p>'Mollie can't be everywhere,' rejoined the boy, trying to +drag himself off the sofa as he spoke, and then Audrey saw he +was a cripple.</p> + +<p>He looked about fifteen, but his long, melancholy face had +nothing boyish about it. The poor lad was evidently a chronic +sufferer; there was a permanent look of ill-health stamped on +his features, and the beautiful dark eyes had a plaintive look in +them.</p> + +<p>'Mollie does her best,' he went on almost irritably; 'but she +and Cyril have been busy upstairs getting up the beds and that +sort of thing, so they could not turn their hand to all this lumber,' +kicking over some books as he spoke.</p> + +<p>'Mollie is very young,' returned Audrey, feeling she must +take them under her protection at once, and, as usual, acting on +her impulse. 'Is your name Kester? What an uncommon +name! but I like it somehow. I am so sorry to see you are an +invalid, but you can get about a little on crutches?'</p> + +<p>'Sometimes, not always, when my hip is bad,' was the brief +response.</p> + +<p>'Has it always been so?' in a pitying voice.</p> + +<p>'Well, ever since I was a little chap, and Cyril dropped me. +I don't know how it happened; he was not very big, either. +It is so long ago that I never remember feeling like other +fellows'; and Kester sighed impatiently and kicked over some +more books. 'There I go, upsetting everything; but there is +no room to move. We had our dinner, such as it was, in the +kitchen—not that I could eat it, eh, Mollie?'</p> + +<p>Mollie shook her head sadly.</p> + +<p>'You have not eaten a bit to-day. Cyril promised to bring +in some buns for tea; but I daresay he will forget all about it.'</p> + +<p>A sudden thought struck Audrey: these two poor children +did look so disconsolate. Mollie's tired face was quite dust-begrimed; +she had been crying, too, probably with worry and +over-fatigue, for the reddened eyelids betrayed her.</p> + +<p>'I have a bright idea,' she said in her pleasant, friendly way, +'why should you not have tea in the garden? You have a nice +little lawn, and it will not be too sunny near the house. If +Biddy will only be good enough to boil the kettle I will run and +fetch a teapot. It is no use hunting in those hampers, you are +far too tired, Mollie. We will just lift out this little table. I +see it has flaps, so it will be large enough; and if you can find +a few teacups and plates, I will be back in a quarter of an hour +with the other things.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">{17}</a></span></p> + +<p>Audrey did not specify what other things she meant; she +left that a pleasing mystery, to be unravelled by and by; she +only waited to lift out the table, and then started off on her +quest.</p> + +<p>The Wrights could not give her half she wanted; but Audrey +in her own erratic fashion was a woman of resources: she made +her way quickly to Woodcote, and entering it through the back +premises, just as her sister was walking leisurely up to the front +door, she went straight to the kitchen to make her raid.</p> + +<p>Cooper was evidently accustomed to her young mistress's +eccentric demands. She fetched one article after another, as +Audrey named them: a teapot, a clean cloth, a quarter of a +pound of the best tea, a little tin of cream from the dairy, half +a dozen new-laid eggs, a freshly-baked loaf hot from the oven, +and some crisp, delicious-looking cakes, finally a pat of firm +yellow butter; and with this last article Audrey pronounced +herself satisfied.</p> + +<p>'You had better let Joe carry some of the things, Miss +Audrey,' suggested Cooper, as she packed a large basket; 'he is +round about somewhere.' And Audrey assented to this.</p> + +<p>Geraldine was just beginning her Blake story, and Mrs. Ross +was listening to her with a troubled face, as Audrey, armed with +the teapot, and followed by Joe with the basket, turned in again +at the green gate of the Gray Cottage.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">{18}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h3>THE BLAKE FAMILY AT HOME</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>'Her manner was warm, and even ardent; her sensibility seemed constitutionally +deep; and some subtle fire of impassioned intellect apparently +burnt within her.'—<span class="smcap">De Quincey.</span></p></div> + + +<p>There was certainly a tinge of Bohemianism in Audrey's +nature. She delighted in any short-cut that took her out of the +beaten track. A sudden and unexpected pleasure was far more +welcome to her than any festivity to which she was bidden +beforehand.</p> + +<p>'I am very unlike Gage,' she said once to her usual confidant, +Captain Burnett. 'No one would take us for sisters; even in +our cradles we were dissimilar. Gage was a pattern baby, never +cried for anything, and delighted everyone with her pretty ways; +and I was always grabbing at father's spectacles with my podgy +little fingers, and screaming for the carving-knife or any such +incongruous thing. Do you know my first babyish name for +father?'</p> + +<p>'I believe it was Daddy Glass-Eyes, was it not?' was the +ready response, for somehow this young man had a strangely +retentive memory, and seldom forgot anything that interested +him.</p> + +<p>Audrey laughed.</p> + +<p>'I had no idea you would have remembered that. How I +loved to snatch off those spectacles! "You can't see me now, +Daddy Glass-Eyes," I can hear myself saying that; "daddy +can't see with only two eyes."'</p> + +<p>'You were a queer little being even then,' he returned, +somewhat dryly. 'But I believe, as usual, we are wandering +from our subject. You are a most erratic talker, Audrey. +What made you burst out just now into this sisterly tirade?'</p> + +<p>'Ah, to be sure! I was contrasting myself with Gage; it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">{19}</a></span> +always amuses me to do that. It only proceeded from a speech +the Countess made this afternoon'; for in certain naughty +moods Audrey would term her elder sister the Countess. 'She +declared half the pleasure of a thing consisted in preparation +and anticipation; but I disagree with her entirely. I like all my +pleasures served up to me hot and spiced—without any flavour +reaching me beforehand. That is why I am so charmed with +the idea of surprise parties and impromptu picnics, and all that +kind of thing.'</p> + +<p>Audrey felt as though she were assisting at some such +surprise party as she turned in at the green gate, and relieved +Joe of the basket. Mollie came running round the side of the +house to meet her. She had washed her face, and brushed out +her tangled hair and tied it afresh.</p> + +<p>'Oh, what have you there?' she asked in some little excitement. +'Miss Ross, have you really carried all these things? +The kettle is boiling, and I have some clean cups and saucers. +Kester has been helping me. I think mamma is awake, for I +heard her open her window just now.'</p> + +<p>'What a nice, intelligent face she has!' thought Audrey, as +she unpacked her basket and displayed the hidden dainties +before the girl's delighted eyes. 'I am sure I shall like Mollie. +She is not a bit pretty—I daresay Gage and Michael would call +her plain; but she has an honest look in her brown eyes.' +'Mollie,' speaking aloud, 'if your mother has awakened from +her nap, she will be quite ready for her tea. May I go into the +kitchen a moment? I want Biddy to boil these eggs—they +are new-laid; and perhaps you could find me a plate for the +butter'; and as Mollie ran off Audrey turned coolly into the +kitchen—a pleasant apartment, overlooking the street—where +she found a little old woman, with a wrinkled face and dark, +hawk-like eyes, standing by the hearth watching the boiling +kettle.</p> + +<p>The kitchen was in the same state of chaos as the dining-room—the +table covered with unwashed dishes, and crates half +unpacked littering the floor. It was evident Biddy was no +manager. As she stood there in her dirty cotton gown, with +her thin gray hair twisted into a rough knot, and a black +handkerchief tied loosely over her head, she was the image of +Fairy Disorder; her bent little figure and the blackened poker +in her hand carried out the resemblance, as she looked up with +her bright, peering eyes at the tall young lady who confronted +her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">{20}</a></span></p> + +<p>'Do you think I could find a saucepan, Biddy?'</p> + +<p>'I suppose there is one about somewhere,' was the encouraging +answer. 'Perhaps Miss Mollie will be knowing; she boiled +some potatoes for dinner.'</p> + +<p>'Do you mean this?' regarding the article with some disfavour. +'Would it trouble you very much to wash it while I +make the tea? I have some nice fresh eggs, which I think they +will all enjoy.'</p> + +<p>But Biddy only returned a snapping answer that was somewhat +unintelligible, and carried out the saucepan with rather a +sour face.</p> + +<p>'Disagreeable old thing!' thought Audrey, as she made the +tea, but she afterwards retracted this hasty judgment.</p> + +<p>Biddy was a bad manager, certainly, but she was not without +her virtues. She was faithful, and would slave herself to +death for those she loved; but she was old for work, and the +'ache,' as she called it, had got into her bones. She had slept +on the floor for two nights, and her poor old back was tired, +and her head muddled with the confusion and her mistress's +fretful fussiness. Biddy could have worked well if any one had +told her exactly what to do, but between one order and another—between +Mr. Cyril's impatience and Miss Mollie's incapable, +youthful zeal—she was just 'moithered,' as she would have +said herself.</p> + +<p>She brought back the saucepan after a minute, and Audrey +boiled the eggs. As she looked down at the hissing, bubbling +water, an amused smile stole over her features.</p> + +<p>'If only Gage could see me now!' she thought; and then +Mollie came in and rummaged in a big basket for teaspoons.</p> + +<p>Audrey carried out her teapot in triumph. Mollie had done +her work well and tastefully: the snowy cloth was on the +table; there were cups and saucers and plates; the butter was +ornamented with green leaves, the cakes were in a china basket. +Kester was dusting some chairs.</p> + +<p>'Doesn't it look nice!' exclaimed Mollie, quite forgetting +her shyness. 'How I wish Cyril would come in! He does +so love things to be nice—he and Kester are so particular. +Mamma!' glancing up at a window above them, 'won't you +please to hurry down? May I sit there, Miss Ross? I always +pour out the tea, because mamma does not like the trouble, +and Kester always sits next to me.'</p> + +<p>'Is your mother an invalid, my dear?' asked Audrey, feeling +that this must be the case.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">{21}</a></span></p> + +<p>'Mamma? Oh no! She has a headache sometimes, but so +do I—and Cyril often says the same. I think mamma is +strong, really. She can take long walks, and she often sits up +late reading or talking to Cyril; but it tries her to do things +in the house, she has never been accustomed to it, and putting +things to rights in Cyril's room has quite knocked her up.'</p> + +<p>'What are you talking about, you little chatterbox?' +interrupted a gay, good-humoured voice; and Audrey, turning +round, saw a lady in black coming quickly towards them: the +next moment two hands were held out in very friendly fashion. +'I need not ask who our kind visitor is,' went on Mrs. Blake. +'I know it must be Miss Ross—no one else could have heard +of our arrival. Have you ever experienced the delights of a +move? I think I have never passed a more miserable four-and-twenty +hours. I am utterly done up, as I daresay my little +girl has told you; but the sight of that delicious tea-table is a +restorative in itself. I had no idea Rutherford held such kind +neighbours. Mollie, I hope you have thanked Miss Ross for +her goodness. Dear me, what a figure the child looks!'</p> + +<p>'Yes, mamma,' replied Mollie, with a return of her shyness; +and she slunk behind the tea-tray.</p> + +<p>Audrey had apparently no answer ready. The oddest idea +had come into her mind: Supposing Michael were to fall in love +with Mrs. Blake? He was a great admirer of beauty, though +he was a little fastidious on the subject, and certainly, with the +exception of Geraldine, Audrey thought she had never seen a +handsomer woman.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Blake's beauty was certainly of no ordinary type: her +features were small and delicate, and her face had the fine oval +that one sees in the portraits of Mary Queen of Scots; her +complexion was pale and somewhat creamy in tint, and set +off the dark hazel eyes and dark smooth coils of hair to perfection.</p> + +<p>The long black dress and widow-like collar and cuffs suited +the tall, graceful figure; and as Audrey noticed the quick +changes of expression, the bright smile, and listened to the +smooth, harmonious voice, she thought that never before had +she seen so fascinating a woman.</p> + +<p>'Gage will rave about her,' was her mental critique. 'She +will say at once that she has never seen a more lady-like person—"lady-like," +that is Gage's favourite expression. And as to +Michael—well, it is never Michael's way to rave; but he will +certainly take a great deal of pleasure in looking at Mrs. Blake.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">{22}</a></span></p> + +<p>'Will you sit by me, Miss Ross?' asked her hostess in a +winning voice; and Audrey woke up from her abstraction, +colouring and smiling.</p> + +<p>'I have taken a great liberty with your house,' she said, +feeling for the first time as though some apology were due; for +the queenly beneficence of Mrs. Blake's manner seemed to imply +some condescension on her part in accepting such favours. 'I +called to see if you needed any assistance from a neighbour, and +I found poor Mollie looking so tired and perplexed that I stayed +to help her.'</p> + +<p>'Mollie does her best,' replied Mrs. Blake gently; 'but she +is a sad manager, and so is Biddy. They nearly worry me to +death between them. If they put a thing straight, it is sure +to be crooked again the next moment.'</p> + +<p>'I am sure Mollie works hard enough,' grumbled Kester; +but his mother did not appear to hear him.</p> + +<p>'I am a wretched manager myself,' she went on. 'If it were +not for Cyril, I do not know what would become of us. Poor +Kester is no use to anyone. Would you believe it, Miss Ross, +that, when we arrived last night, not a bedstead was up? That +was Biddy's fault; she forgot to remind the men. We all +slept on the floor except Kester. Cyril would put up his bed +for him, though I told him that just for once, and on a summer's +night, it would not hurt him.'</p> + +<p>Mollie and Kester glanced at each other; and then Kester +bit his lip, and looked down at his plate.</p> + +<p>'Oh, mamma,' began Mollie eagerly; but Mrs. Blake gave +her a quick, reproving look.</p> + +<p>'Please don't interrupt, Mollie. I want Miss Ross to understand; +she must be quite shocked to see such confusion. Cyril +said this morning we should be all ill if we passed another night +in that way; so he and Biddy have been putting up the beds, +and getting the upstairs rooms in order, and Mollie was sent +down to make the dining-room a little tidy.'</p> + +<p>'But, mamma——' pleaded Molly, turning very red.</p> + +<p>'My dear little girl,' observed her mother sweetly, 'Miss +Ross can see for herself the room has not been touched.'</p> + +<p>'Because Kester was asleep, and Cyril told me I must not +wake him,' persisted Molly, looking ready to cry again; 'and +whenever I began, either you or Cyril called me;' and here, +though Mollie dashed away a tear bravely, another followed, +and would splash down on her frock, for the poor little soul +was tired and dispirited, and Miss Ross would think she had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">{23}</a></span> +been idle, instead of having worked like a slave since early +morning.</p> + +<p>'Don't be a goose, Mollie!' retorted Mrs. Blake, with the +ready good-humour that seemed natural to her; 'you are too +old to cry at a word. Miss Ross, may I have one of those +delicious cakes? I shall feel a different woman after my tea. +Children, what can have become of your brother? I thought +he was only going out for half an hour.'</p> + +<p>'He is to dine at Woodcote to-night, I believe, Mrs. Blake.'</p> + +<p>'Yes; Dr. Ross kindly asked him this morning. I must +not begin to talk about Cyril; that must be a tabooed subject. +Of course, a mother has a right to be proud of her son—and +such a son, too!—but it is not necessary for her to bore other +people. If you were to ask me'—with a low laugh of amusement +at her own expense—'if I thought any other mother's son +could be as handsome and clever and affectionate as my Cyril, +I should probably say no; but I will be prudent for once: I +will not try to prejudice you in his favour. Cyril shall stand +on his own merits to-night; he will not need his mother's +recommendation.'</p> + +<p>Mrs. Blake made this speech with such a pretty air of +assurance, such a conviction that there was something pardonable +in her egotism, with such winning frankness, that Audrey forgave +the thoughtless insinuation against poor overtasked Mollie. It +was evident that Mrs. Blake idolised her eldest son; her eyes +softened as she mentioned his name.</p> + +<p>'Ah, there is his step!' she added hastily. 'No one walks +in the same way as Cyril does; isn't it a light, springy tread? +But,' checking herself with another laugh, 'I must really hold +my tongue, or you will think me a very silly woman.'</p> + +<p>'No; I like you all the better for it,' replied Audrey bluntly. +She had no time to say more, for a gay whistle heralded the +new-comer; and the next moment a young man vaulted lightly +over the low window-sill.</p> + +<p>He seemed a little taken aback at the sight of a stranger, +shook hands rather gravely with Audrey, and then sat down +silently beside his mother.</p> + +<p>Audrey's first thought was that Mrs. Blake had not said a +word too much. Cyril Blake was certainly a very striking-looking +young man. 'He is like his mother,' she said to herself; +'he is as handsome in his way as she is in hers. There is +something foreign in his complexion, and in those very dark eyes; +it looks as though there were Spanish or Italian blood in their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">{24}</a></span> +veins. She hardly looks old enough to be his mother. Father +said he was two-and-twenty. What an interesting family they +seem! I am sure I shall see a great deal of them.'</p> + +<p>Cyril was a little silent at first. He was afflicted with the +Englishman's <i>mauvaise honte</i> with strangers, and was a little +young for his age, in spite of his cleverness. But Mrs. Blake +was not disposed to leave him in quiet. She knew that he +could talk fluently enough when his tongue was once loosened; +so she proceeded to tell him of Audrey's neighbourly kindness, +treating it with an airy grace; and, of course, Cyril responded +with a brief compliment or two. She then drew him out by +skilful questions on Rutherford and its inhabitants, to which +Audrey duly replied.</p> + +<p>'And you like the place, Miss Ross?'</p> + +<p>'Oh, of course one likes the place where one lives,' she +returned brightly. 'I was only a little girl when father came +to Woodcote, so all my happiest associations are with Rutherford. +I grumble sometimes because the town is so small and there are +not enough human beings.'</p> + +<p>'There are over three hundred boys, are there not?' asked +Cyril, looking up quickly.</p> + +<p>'Oh, boys! I was not thinking of them. Yes, there are +more than three hundred. I delight in boys, but one wants +men and women as well. We have too few types. There are +the masters and the masters' wives, and the doctors and the +vicar, and a curate or two, but that is all. A public school is +nice, but its society is limited.'</p> + +<p>'Limited, but choice.'</p> + +<p>'Decidedly choice. Now, in my opinion, people ought not +to be too exclusive. I am sociable by nature. "The world +forgetting, by the world forgot" is not to my mind. I like +variety even in character.'</p> + +<p>'I think we are kindred spirits, my dear Miss Ross. How +often have you heard me say the same thing, Cyril! That is +why I took such a dislike to Headingly—the people there were +so terribly exclusive and purse-proud.'</p> + +<p>'Not purse-proud, mother. You are wrong there.'</p> + +<p>'Well, they were very stiff and inhospitable; there was no +getting on with them at all. I think the Bryces were the +worst. Mrs. Bryce is the proudest woman I know.'</p> + +<p>'Mother,' observed Cyril warningly, 'it is never safe to +mention names. I think—that is, I am sure I have heard that +Mrs. Bryce is a connection of Miss Ross.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">{25}</a></span></p> + +<p>'Oh, I hope not!' in an alarmed voice. 'Do—do forgive +me my very plain speaking.'</p> + +<p>'There is no harm done,' returned Audrey lightly. 'Mrs. +Bryce is only a connection of my sister's by marriage. She is +Mr. Harcourt's sister. I am afraid I sympathise with you +there. I have no special liking for Mrs. Bryce myself; she is +clever, an excellent manager, but she is a little too proper—too +fond of laying down the law for my taste.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, I am so glad!' clapping her hands. 'Cyril is always +keeping me in order; he is so afraid what I may say next.'</p> + +<p>'You certainly are a most incautious person, mother.'</p> + +<p>'See how my children keep me in order,' with an air of +much humility. 'Mrs. Harcourt is your sister, and lives at +Rutherford. I do hope she is like you, Miss Ross.'</p> + +<p>'No, indeed,' shaking her head and laughing. 'We are +very different persons. Geraldine is far better than I am. +She is exceedingly clever, most accomplished, and so handsome +that everyone falls in love with her at first sight. She is quite +a little queen here, and no one disputes her sway.'</p> + +<p>Mrs. Blake gave an eloquent shrug, but she did not venture +on a more direct answer; and Audrey sat and smiled to herself +as she thought that Geraldine and Edith Bryce were +certainly pattern women.</p> + +<p>How pleasant it all was! Audrey had never enjoyed herself +more; she was making herself quite at home with these Blakes. +But surely there was no need to hurry home; Gage was with +her mother. She might indulge herself a little longer. She +longed to talk more to Kester and Mollie, but she found it +impossible to draw them into the conversation. They sat quite +silent, only every now and then Audrey's quick eyes saw an +intelligent look flash between them—a sort of telegraphic +communication.</p> + +<p>'I hope those two poor children are not left out in the cold,' +she thought uneasily. 'Their brother does not seem to notice +them; he and his mother are wrapped up in each other. It is +hardly fair.'</p> + +<p>Again Audrey was forming a hasty judgment.</p> + +<p>'The country is not very pretty, is it?' asked Cyril at this +moment, and she woke up from her reverie.</p> + +<p>'It is a little flat, but it has its good points; it is a splendid +hunting country, as you know. Oh yes, I think it pretty. +There are nice walks. I am very partial to the grass lanes we +have about here. In fine weather they are delicious.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">{26}</a></span></p> + +<p>'And you are a good walker?'</p> + +<p>'Oh yes. I am strong, and there is nothing I enjoy so +much. One is such splendid company for one's self. Leo and +I used to have such expeditions! Leo was a St. Bernard +puppy, only he died three weeks ago of distemper. I cannot +bear to speak of him yet. He was my playfellow, and so +handsome and intelligent! My cousin, Captain Burnett, has +promised to find me another dog. He has a Dachs-hund himself—such +a loving, faithful little creature. He is obliged to +take Booty wherever he goes, or the poor thing would fret +himself to skin and bone. Is that retriever your special +property?' and Audrey looked at Cyril as she spoke.</p> + +<p>'No; he belongs to Kester,' he returned carelessly. Then, +with a quick change of tone: 'Are you tired, old fellow? +Would you like me to help you indoors?' and, as Kester +languidly assented, he picked up his crutches, and taking +possession of one, substituted his arm, while Mollie ran before +them with a couple of cushions.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Blake looked after them, and a cloud came over her +face.</p> + +<p>'Is it not sad?' she said, in a melancholy tone. 'That +poor boy—he will be a drag on Cyril all his life. He will +never be able to gain his own living. He is fifteen now.'</p> + +<p>'It was the result of an accident, was it not?'</p> + +<p>But Audrey regretted her abrupt question, as a troubled +expression came into the mother's eyes.</p> + +<p>'Who told you that?' she asked impatiently. 'Of course +it was Mollie. She is a sad chatterbox. And I suppose she +mentioned, too, that it was Cyril's fault?'</p> + +<p>'Indeed it was not Mollie,' returned Audrey eagerly. +'Kester spoke of it himself. He did not enter into particulars. +He just said his brother had let him fall when he was a child.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, it was a sad business,' with a sigh. 'I wonder if +anyone has ever had so many troubles as I have. Life has +been one long struggle to me, Miss Ross. But for Cyril I +should have succumbed again and again. No widowed mother +has ever been more blessed in a son;' then, dropping her +voice: 'Please do not mention the subject before Cyril; he is +dreadfully sore about it. It was a pure accident: they were +all lads together, and he and his schoolfellows were racing each +other. I think they were steeplechasing, and he had Kester +on his back. There was a fence and a stony ditch, and the +foolish child tried to clear it; they might both have been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">{27}</a></span> +killed, it was such a nasty place, but Kester was the only one +hurt. He was always a delicate little fellow, and hip-disease +came on. He does not suffer so much now, but he will always +be a cripple, and he has bad times now and then. Cyril is so +good to him; he has never forgiven himself for the accident.'</p> + +<p>'I can understand that,' returned Audrey in a moved voice; +and then Cyril came back and she rose to go. 'I shall see +you again,' she said smiling, as he accompanied her to the gate. +'I hear my father has asked you up to Woodcote this evening +to meet the Harcourts.'</p> + +<p>'Yes,' he returned briefly, looking as though the prospect +were a formidable one. 'I could not very well refuse Dr. +Ross under the circumstances.'</p> + +<p>'Did you wish to refuse?' rather mischievously.</p> + +<p>'No, of course not,' but smiling too; 'I feel as though it +were a neglect of duty. Look at the muddle in there! and +those poor children. I have been working like a horse to-day, +but there was too much to do upstairs; I left the living-rooms +for this evening.'</p> + +<p>'You can work all the harder to-morrow.'</p> + +<p>He shook his head.</p> + +<p>'To-morrow I have to begin lessons. I suppose the muddle +must just go on, and we must live as we can. Biddy is old +and worn out, and Mollie is too young to direct her.'</p> + +<p>'I will come round and help her,' was Audrey's impulsive +answer. 'This is just the sort of thing I love. I do so enjoy +putting a place to rights.'</p> + +<p>'But, Miss Ross, we have no right to trespass on your kindness,' +replied Cyril, flushing slightly as he spoke.</p> + +<p>But Audrey only smiled and showed her dimple.</p> + +<p>'Tell Mollie I shall come,' was her only answer. '<i>Au +revoir</i>, Mr. Blake.'</p> + +<p>And Audrey walked on rapidly to Woodcote, feeling that +she had spent a very amusing afternoon, and quite unaware of +the commotion she would raise in her mother's and sister's +breasts by those few innocently spoken words, 'I have been +having tea at the Blakes'.'</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">{28}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h3>MICHAEL</h3> + +<table summary="quotation"> +<tr><td> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse">'And when God found in the hollow of His hand</div> +<div class="verse">This ball of Earth among His other balls,</div> +<div class="verse">And set it in His shining firmament,</div> +<div class="verse">Between the greater and the lesser lights,</div> +<div class="verse">He chose it for the Star of Suffering.'</div> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<div class="sign"><span class="smcap">Ugo Bassi.</span></div> +</div> +</td></tr> +</table> + + +<p>It is better to draw a veil over the scene that followed Audrey's +abrupt announcement. As Captain Burnett said afterwards, +'Geraldine's attitude was superb; she was grand, absolutely +grand.'</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ross was, as usual, a little plaintive.</p> + +<p>'If you had only mentioned where you were going, Audrey,' +she said quietly; 'but you are so impulsive, my dear. +Geraldine would have accompanied you with pleasure a little +later, and you could have left my card, and a civil message for +Mrs. Blake; that would have been far nicer, would it not, my +love?' with an appealing look at her young adviser.</p> + +<p>'You can send the message by Mr. Blake this evening,' +replied Audrey.</p> + +<p>She never argued with her mother if she could possibly help +it. In the first place, it was not filial, and in the second, it +was perfectly useless, as there was always a mental reservation +in Mrs. Ross's mind, and she could seldom be induced to decide +any question without reference to Geraldine.</p> + +<p>'I think father might have consulted Percival before he +asked another guest,' observed Mrs. Harcourt in rather a +dubious tone, for she was exceedingly jealous of her husband's +dignity. 'Percival was told that we were to be quite alone. +I was not going home to change my dress. But if this young +man be invited——'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">{29}</a></span></p> + +<p>'My darling,' interrupted her mother, 'you must not think +of walking back all that way—that gown is lovely, is it not, +Audrey?—and one more person does not signify. No doubt +your father was anxious that Percival should see Mr. Blake and +give him his opinion; he thinks so much of Percival's judgment, +does he not, Audrey?'</p> + +<p>Now here was the opportunity for a douceur, for a +nicely-adjusted compliment, to smooth her sister's ruffled +brow; but Audrey was far too blunt and truthful for such +finesse.</p> + +<p>'Father told me that he wanted Michael to see Mr. Blake—I +don't believe he was thinking of Percival—because of +course the lower school has nothing to do with Hillside. +There is not the least need of changing your gown, Gage, +for of course we are only a family party. Will you come +up with me to my room now, or will you go with mother +presently?'</p> + +<p>'I will come with you,' returned Mrs. Harcourt.</p> + +<p>Audrey was inclined to be contumacious, but she would not +yield the matter so meekly. Audrey was always more contradictory +when Michael was in the background; they seemed to +play into each other's hand somehow, and more than once +Geraldine was positive she had heard a softly-uttered 'Bravo!' +at some of Audrey's ridiculous speeches.</p> + +<p>'Come along, then,' returned Audrey good-humouredly; and +as they left the room together, Captain Burnett laid down his +book.</p> + +<p>'I am afraid she is going to catch it, Cousin Emmeline; it +will be a case of survival of the fittest—Geraldine is strong, +but Audrey can hold her own. I back Audrey.'</p> + +<p>'My dear,' remonstrated Mrs. Ross, as she put away her +knitting, 'you talk as though my girls were likely to quarrel. +Geraldine is far too sweet-tempered to quarrel with anyone; +she will only give Audrey a little advice—dear Audrey is +dreadfully careless, she takes after her father in that; John is +always doing imprudent things. Geraldine has made me most +uncomfortable this afternoon; I am quite sure that Mrs. Blake +will be an undesirable friend for Audrey.'</p> + +<p>'Do you always see through other people's spectacles?' he +asked quietly. 'I have a habit of judging things for myself—I +never take anything second-hand; it is such an unpleasant +idea, airing other people's opinions. Fancy a sensible human +being turning himself into a sort of peg or receptacle for other<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">{30}</a></span> +folks' theories! No, thank you, my dear cousin; my opinions +are all stamped with "Michael Burnett, his mark."'</p> + +<p>'Men are different,' she replied tranquilly; and then she +left him to go in search of her husband.</p> + +<p>'What a world we live in, Booty!' observed Captain +Burnett, as he walked to the window and his four-footed +favourite followed him. 'Oh, you want a run, do you?' as +the little animal looked at him wistfully. 'You think your +master uncommonly lazy this afternoon—you don't happen to +have a pain in your leg, do you, old fellow—a nasty gnawing, +grumbling sort of pain?—there is nothing like neuralgia for +making a man lazy. Well, I'll make an effort to oblige you, +my friend—so off you go'; and Captain Burnett threw a stone, +and there was a delighted bark and an excited patter of the +short legs, and Booty vanished round a corner, while his master +followed him more slowly.</p> + +<p>The garden of Woodcote was the best in Rutherford; even +the Hill houses could not compete with it: an extensive lawn +lay before the house, with a shrubbery on one side, and the +trees and shrubs were exceedingly rare; a little below the +house the ground sloped rather steeply, and a succession of +terraces and flower-beds led down to a miniature lake with a +tiny island; here there were some swans and a punt, and the +tall trees that bordered the water were the favourite haunt of +blackbirds and thrushes.</p> + +<p>Captain Burnett sat down on a bench facing the water, and +Booty stood and barked at the swans. How sweet and peaceful +everything looked this evening! The water was golden in the +evening sunshine; a blue tit was flashing from one tree to +another; some thrushes were singing a melodious duet; the +swans arched their snowy necks and looked proudly at him; +some children's voices were audible in the distance. There was +a thoughtful expression in Captain Burnett's eyes, a concentrated +melancholy that was often there when he found himself +utterly alone.</p> + +<p>Captain Burnett had one confidant—his cousin John. Not +that he often called him by that name, their ages were too dissimilar +to permit such easy familiarity; but he had once owned +to Dr. Ross, to the man who loved him as a father, that his life +had been a failure.</p> + +<p>'Only a failure in the sense that you are no longer fit for +active duty,' had been the reply. 'You must not forget the +Victoria Cross, Michael.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">{31}</a></span></p> + +<p>'Oh, that was nothing; any other man would have done the +same in my place,' Michael had retorted with some heat, for he +hated to be reminded of his good deeds.</p> + +<p>Perhaps he was right: hundreds of brave young Englishmen +would have acted in the same way had they been placed in the +same circumstances. The English army is full of heroes, thank +God! Nevertheless, Michael Burnett had earned his Victoria +Cross dearly.</p> + +<p>It was in one of the Zulu skirmishes. A detachment of the +enemy had surprised them at night; but the little handful of +men had repulsed them bravely. Captain Burnett knew help +was at hand; they had only to hold out until a larger contingent +should join them. He hoped things were going well. They +had just driven the Zulus backwards, when, in the dim light of +the flickering watch-fires, he saw dusky figures moving in the +direction of a hut where a few sick and wounded men had been +placed. There was not a second to lose; in another moment +the poor fellows would have been butchered. Calling out to +some of his men to follow him, and not perceiving that he was +alone, he tore through the scrub, and entered the hut by a hole +that served as a window. Michael once owned that he fought +like a demon that night; but the thought of the few helpless +wretches writhing in terror on their pallet beds behind him +seemed to give him the force of ten men. 'They shall pass +only over my body! God save my poor fellows!' was his +inward cry, as he blocked up the narrow doorway and struck at +his dusky foes like a madman.</p> + +<p>More than one poor lad lived to look back on that day, and +to bless their gallant deliverer. 'No one else could have done it, +sir,' observed one of them; 'but the Captain never knew how +to give in. I was watching them, and I thought the devils +would have finished him. He staggered back once, and Bob +Jaggers gave a groan, for we thought it was all up with us; +and though I would have made shift to fight before I would be +killed like a rat in a hole, one could not do much with a +broken arm. When our men rushed in, he was pretty nearly +finished; one of the savages had him by the knees. Of course +they gave him the Cross. For the matter of that, he ought to +have had it before.</p> + +<p>'Did you ever hear how he saved little Tom Blatchley's life? +Well, I will tell you'; and hereupon followed one of those +touching incidents which are so frequent, and which gild with +glory even the bloody annals of war.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">{32}</a></span></p> + +<p>Yes, they gave him the Victoria Cross; but as he lay on his +bed of suffering, disabled by cruel wounds, Michael knew that +he had won it at the expense of all that men count dear. +'Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his +life for his friends.' There were times when, in his anguish, +Michael could have prayed that his life—his useless, broken +life—might have been taken too. How gladly, how thankfully +would he have yielded it! how willingly would he have turned +his face to the wall, and ended the conflict, sooner than endure +the far bitterer ordeal that lay before him! for he was young, +and he knew his career was ended, and that, brave soldier as he +was, he could no longer follow the profession that he loved. It +was doubtful for a long time how far he would recover from the +effects of that terrible night; his wounds were long in healing. +The principal injuries were in the head and thigh. One or two +of his physicians feared that he would never walk again; the +limb seemed to contract, and neuralgic pains made his life a +misery. To add to his troubles, his nerves were seriously +affected, and though he was no coward, depression held him at +times in its fell grip, and mocked him with delusive pictures of +other men's happiness. Like Bunyan's poor tempted Christian, +he, too, at times espied a foul fiend coming over the field to +meet him, and had to wage a deadly combat with many a doubt +and hard, despairing thought. 'You are a wreck, Michael +Burnett!' the grim tempter seemed to say to him. 'Better be +quit of it all! Before you are thirty your work is over; what +will you do with the remainder of your life? You are poor—perhaps +crippled; no woman will look at you. You have your +Cross—a little bit of rusty iron—but does such empty glory +avail? You have aches and pains in plenty; your future looks +promising, my fine fellow! A hero! In truth those ten +minutes have cost you dearly! no wonder you repent of your +rash gallantry!'</p> + +<p>'I repent of nothing,' Michael would rejoin, in that dumb +inward argument so often renewed. 'If it were to come over +again, I would do just the same. "Greater love hath no man +than this";' for in his semi-delirious hours those Divine words +seemed to set themselves to solemn music, and to echo in his +brain with ceaseless repetition. 'A life given, a life laid down, +a life spent in suffering—is it not all the same—a soldier's +duty? Shall I shirk my fate? Would it not be better to +bear it like a man?' and Michael would set his teeth hard, +and with an inward prayer for patience—for in the struggle the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">{33}</a></span> +man was learning to pray—girded himself up again to the daily +fight.</p> + +<p>Once, when there had been a fresh outbreak of mischief, and +they had brought him down to Woodcote, that he might be +more carefully nursed than in the town lodgings which was all +Michael Burnett called home, Audrey, who, after her usual +pitiful fashion, wore herself out in her efforts to soothe and +comfort the invalid, once read to him some beautiful lines out +of a poem entitled 'The Disciples.'</p> + +<p>Michael, who was in one of his dark moods, made no +comment on the passage which she had read in a trembling voice +of deep feeling; but when she left the room on some errand, he +stretched out his hand, and read it over again:</p> + +<table summary="poem"> +<tr><td> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse">'But if, impatient, thou let slip thy cross,</div> +<div class="verse">Thou wilt not find it in this world again,</div> +<div class="verse">Nor in another; here, and here alone,</div> +<div class="verse">Is given thee to suffer for God's sake.'</div> +</div> +</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>When Audrey returned the book was in its place, and +Michael was lying with his eyes closed, and the frown of pain +still knitting his temples. He was not asleep, but she dare +not disturb him by offering to go on with the poem. She sat +down at a little distance and looked out of the window, rather +sorrowfully. How strong she was! how full of health and +enjoyment! and this poor Michael, who had acted so nobly——Audrey's +eyes were full of tears. And all the time Michael +was saying to himself, 'After all, I am a coward. What if I +must suffer? Life will not last for ever.'</p> + +<p>By and by Michael owned that even his hard lot had compensations. +He became used to his semi-invalid existence. +Active work of any sort was impossible—that is, continuous +work. He had tried it when his friends had found an easy +post for him, and had been obliged to give it up. He still +suffered severely from neuralgic headaches that left him worn +and exhausted. His maimed leg often troubled him; he could +not walk far, and riding was impossible.</p> + +<p>'You must make up your mind to be an idle man—at +least, for the present, Captain Burnett,' one of his doctors had +said to him, and Michael had languidly acquiesced. To be a +soldier had been his one ambition, and he cared for little else. +He had enough to keep him in moderate comfort as a bachelor, +and he had faint expectations from an uncle who lived in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">{34}</a></span> +Calcutta; but when questioned on this point, Michael owned +he was not sanguine.</p> + +<p>'My Uncle Selkirk is by no means an old man,' he would +say. 'Any insurance office would consider his the better life +of the two. Besides, he might marry—he is not sixty yet; +even old men make fools of themselves by taking young wives. +It is ill waiting for dead men's shoes at the best of times. In +this case it would be rank stupidity.'</p> + +<p>'Then you will never be able to marry, Michael;' for it +was to Mrs. Ross that this last speech was addressed.</p> + +<p>'My dear cousin, do you think any girl would look at a +sickly, ill-tempered fellow like me?' was the somewhat bitter +reply; and Mrs. Ross's kind heart was troubled at the +tone.</p> + +<p>'You should not call yourself names, my dear. You are +not ill-tempered. No one minds a little crossness now and +then. Even John can say a sharp word when he is put out. +I think you are wrong, Michael. You are rather morbid on +this point. They say pity is akin to love.'</p> + +<p>'But I object to be pitied,' he returned somewhat haughtily; +'and what is more, I will commend myself to no woman's +toleration. I will not be dominated by any weaker vessel. If +I should ever have the happiness of having a wife—but there +will be no Mrs. Michael Burnett, Cousin Emmeline—I should +love her as well as other men love their wives, but I should +distinctly insist on her keeping her proper place. Just +imagine'—working himself up to nervous irritation—'being +at the mercy of some healthy, high-spirited young creature, +who will insult me every day with her overplus of pure animal +enjoyment. The effect on me would be crushing—absolutely +crushing.'</p> + +<p>'Audrey is very high-spirited, Michael, but I am sure she +sympathises with you as nicely as possible.'</p> + +<p>'We were not speaking of Audrey, were we?' he replied, +with a slight change of expression. 'I think it is the Ross +idiosyncrasy to wander hopelessly from any given subject; I +imagined that we were suggesting an impossible wife for your +humble servant. Far be it from me to deny myself comfort in +the shape of feminine cousins or friends.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, of course; and Geraldine and Audrey are just like +your sisters, Michael.'</p> + +<p>'Are they?' a little dryly. 'Well, as I never had a sister, +I cannot be a good judge; but from what other fellows tell<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">{35}</a></span> +me, I imagine Audrey bullies me enough to be one. Anyhow, +I take the brotherly prerogative of bullying her in return.'</p> + +<p>And with this remarkable statement the conversation +dropped.</p> + +<p>Captain Burnett spent half his time with his cousins, +oscillating between Woodcote and his lodgings in town. Dr. +Ross wished him to live with them entirely; he had a great +respect and affection for his young kinsman, and, as he often +told his wife, Michael helped him in a hundred ways.</p> + +<p>'He has the clearest head and the best common-sense I +ever knew in any man. I would trust Mike's judgment before +my own. Poor fellow! he has gone through so much himself, +that I think he sees deeper into things than most people. It +is wonderful what knowledge of character he has. The boys +always say there is no cheating the Captain.'</p> + +<p>Michael owned himself grateful for his cousin's kindness, +but he declined to call Woodcote his home.</p> + +<p>'I must have my own diggings,' was his answer—'a burrow +where I can run to earth when my pet fiend tries to have a +fling at me. Seriously, there are times when I am best alone—and, +then, in town one sees one's friends. For a sick man, +or whatever you like to call me, my taste is decidedly gregarious. +"I would not shut me from my kind." Oh dear no! +There is no study so interesting as human nature, and I am +avowedly a student of anthropology; London is the place for +a man with a hobby like mine.'</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, the chief part of Captain Burnett's time had +been spent latterly at Woodcote.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">{36}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h3>THE NEW MASTER</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>'We agree pretty well in our tastes and habits—yet so as "with a +difference." We are generally in harmony, with occasional bickerings, +as it should be among near relatives.'—<span class="smcap">Essays of 'Elia.'</span></p></div> + + +<p>Booty grew tired of barking at the swans long before his +master had roused from his abstraction; it was doubtful how +much longer Captain Burnett would have sat with his eyes +fixed dreamily on the water, if a tall figure in white had not +suddenly appeared under the arching trees, and Audrey stood +before him.</p> + +<p>'I knew where I should find you,' she said, as he rose +rather slowly from his seat. 'I have christened this bench +Michael's Seat. How sweet the lake looks this evening! I +wish I could stay to enjoy it, but I must go back to the +drawing-room. Percival has come, and, do you know, the +dressing-gong sounded ten minutes ago, and you have taken no +notice of it.'</p> + +<p>'I will go at once,' was the answer, but to his surprise she +stopped him.</p> + +<p>'Wait one moment, Michael; I have to ask you a favour. +I want you to be kind, and to take a great deal of notice of +Mr. Blake. He is very young and shy, and though his mother +says he is so clever—and, indeed, father says so, too—one +would not find it out, because he is so quiet, and you know +how formidable Percival must be to a shy person.'</p> + +<p>'And you want me to take your new <i>protégé</i> under my +wing?' he returned, dissembling his surprise.</p> + +<p>She had put her hands on his arm, and was speaking with +unusual earnestness, and he knew, by a certain look in her +eyes, that something had vexed her.</p> + +<p>'He is not my <i>protégé</i>,' she answered quickly. 'You talk<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">{37}</a></span> +as though he were a boy, a mere child, instead of being what +he is—an exceedingly clever and gentlemanly young man. +Michael, you generally understand me—you are always my +ally when Percival is on his high horse—and I want you to +stand Mr. Blake's friend to-night.'</p> + +<p>'And I am not even to form my own opinion? Supposing +the moment I shake hands with your pro—I mean your visitor—I +become conscious of an inward antagonism? You see, +Audrey, I am subject to likes and dislikes, in common with +other people.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, you must try to like him,' she returned impatiently. +'I am very much interested in the whole family. We always +like the same people, Michael—do we not?' in a coaxing +voice. 'I know the Marquis will wear his most judicial aspect +to-night; he will perfectly annihilate poor Mr. Blake;' for this +was another sobriquet which Audrey applied to her brother-in-law.</p> + +<p>They were walking towards the house, but at this point +Captain Burnett thought fit to stand still and shake his head, +with a grieved expression of face.</p> + +<p>'My dear Audrey, I should like to see you on more sisterly +terms with Gage's husband.'</p> + +<p>'Don't be silly,' was the only response; 'one cannot choose +one's brother-in-law. The Marquis makes Gage a splendid +husband—no one else could have mastered her—but I never +could get on with a man who always thinks he is right about +everything. Percival is too immaculate in his own and his +wife's eyes to be in harmony with a sinner like myself; and I +don't mind confessing to you, Michael, that he never opens his +mouth without my longing to contradict him.'</p> + +<p>Audrey said this with such perfect <i>naïveté</i> and candour that +Captain Burnett could only smile, though sheer honesty made +him say a moment afterwards:</p> + +<p>'I think, indeed I have always thought, that you undervalue +Harcourt. He is a fine fellow in his way. I like a man to be +strong, and Harcourt is strong—he has no pettiness in his nature. +He is rather a severe critic, perhaps—and demands a little too +much from other people—but you will find that he always +practises what he preaches.'</p> + +<p>'I wish he understood me better,' was the rueful response. +'Unhappily, he and Gage think their mission is to reform me. +Now, Michael, do be quick, or the dinner-bell will ring;' and +Audrey waved her hand gaily, and turned into the house,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">{38}</a></span> +while Michael and his faithful Booty followed her more +slowly.</p> + +<p>When Audrey entered the drawing-room she found her +brother-in-law standing in his favourite attitude before the +fireplace—he was evidently holding forth on some interesting +topic, for Dr. Ross was listening to him with an amused expression +of face, and Geraldine was watching him with admiring +wifely eyes. He broke off, however, to greet Audrey, and +there was brotherly warmth in his manner as he shook hands +with her and asked after her health—a mere civility on his part, +as Audrey was never ill.</p> + +<p>Mr. Harcourt was a good-looking man of about forty—perhaps +he was a year or two more, but he was young-looking +for his age, and the absence of beard and moustache gave him a +still more youthful aspect; the slight tinge of gray in his hair +seemed to harmonise with the well-cut features. The mouth +was especially handsome, though a sarcastic expression at times +distinguished it. His figure was good, and without being tall, +he carried himself with so much dignity as to give the impression +of height. He was a man who would always be noticed +among other men on account of his strong individuality and +sheer force of character.</p> + +<p>Audrey was right when she owned that he made a splendid +husband for Geraldine. Mr. Harcourt was exceedingly proud +of his beautiful wife; but from the first hour of her married life +he had made her understand that though she managed other +people, including her own mother, her husband was to be the +one exception—that, in other words, he fully intended to be +Geraldine's master.</p> + +<p>Geraldine had to learn this lesson even on her wedding-day. +There was some little confusion at the last—a small hitch in +the domestic arrangements—and someone, Dr. Ross probably, +proposed that the happy couple should wait for a later train; +they could telegraph, and dinner could be put back for an hour. +Geraldine endorsed her father's opinion; perhaps, at the last +minute, the young bride would fain have lingered lovingly in +the home that had sheltered her so happily.</p> + +<p>'It is a good idea. We should have to drive so dreadfully +fast,' she said with some eagerness. 'Yes, we will stay, +Percival.'</p> + +<p>'My darling, there is someone else to consult,' he returned, +taking her hand; 'and someone else votes differently. Dr. +Ross, will you ask them to send round the carriage. Geraldine<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">{39}</a></span> +has had excitement enough; it will be far better for us to go.' +Geraldine did not like her husband any the worse for showing +her that he meant to manage for both for the future. She was +clever enough to take the hint, and to refer to him on all +occasions. Before many weeks were over, young Mrs. Harcourt +had so fully identified herself with her husband's interests, +was so strangely impregnated with his opinions, that she insensibly +reproduced them—'and Percival thinks so and so' now +replaced the old decided 'that is my opinion,' which had +hitherto leavened her conversation.</p> + +<p>'Who would have thought that Geraldine, who snubbed all +her lovers so unmercifully, and who never would listen to one +until Percival "came, saw, and conquered"—who would have +imagined that this very exacting young woman would have +turned out a submissive and pattern wife?' was Audrey's remark +when she returned from her first visit to Hillside.</p> + +<p>But in her heart she respected her brother-in-law for the +change he had effected.</p> + +<p>'Well, Audrey,' observed Mr. Harcourt, with a mischievous +twinkle in his eyes, 'so I hear you have been enacting the part +of Good Samaritan to the widow Blake and her children. +What do you think of the bewitching widow and her Mary +Queen of Scots beauty? Did she make an impression, eh?'</p> + +<p>'She is very handsome,' returned Audrey curtly; for she +was not pleased with her brother-in-law's quizzical tone.</p> + +<p>How long had she stopped out with Michael? Barely ten +minutes; and yet Percival was in possession of the whole story.</p> + +<p>'I shall be writing to Edith to-night, and I must tell her +all about it,' he went on, for if there was one thing in which he +delighted, it was teasing Audrey, and getting a rise out of her. +In reality he was very fond of her; he admired her simplicity +and the grand earnestness of her character; but he took the +brotherly liberty of disagreeing with her upon some things. +He told his wife privately that his one desire was to see Audrey +married to the right man.</p> + +<p>'She is a fine creature, but she wants training and keeping +in order; and I know the man who would just do for her,' he +said once.</p> + +<p>But though Geraldine implored him to say whom he meant, +and mentioned a dozen names in her womanly curiosity, Mr. +Harcourt could not be induced to say more. He was no matchmaker, +he thanked Heaven; he would be ashamed to meddle +with such sacred mysteries. If there were one thing on which no<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">{40}</a></span> +human opinion ought to rashly intrude, it was when two people +elected to enter the holy state of matrimony. It was enough +that he knew the man, though he never intended to take a step +to bring them together.</p> + +<p>'I think we had better drop the subject, as Mr. Blake will +be here directly,' retorted Audrey, in her most repressive tones. +'Father, do you know you have forgotten to wind up the +drawing-room clock? I think it must be nearly seven.'</p> + +<p>'It is past seven,' answered her brother-in-law, producing his +watch. 'Mr. Blake is keeping the dinner waiting. No one +but a very young man would venture to commit such a solecism. +Under the circumstances, it is really a breach of good manners. +Don't you agree with me, Dr. Ross?'</p> + +<p>But Dr. Ross hesitated; he rarely agreed with such sweeping +assertions. Geraldine murmured 'Very true,' which her mother +echoed.</p> + +<p>'That is too bad!' exclaimed Audrey, who never could hold +her tongue. 'If you had only seen the state of muddle they +are in at the Gray Cottage! I daresay Mr. Blake has been +unable to find anything; his mother does not seem a good +manager. Hush! I hear a bell!'—interrupting herself. +'Now you will not be kept any longer from your dinner, +Percival.'</p> + +<p>'I was not thinking of myself,' he returned, with rather an +annoyed air; for he was a quick-tempered man, and he was +really very hungry. Thanks to his wife's splendid management, +the meals were always punctual at Hillside. A deviation of +five minutes would have boded woe to the best cook. Mr. +Harcourt was no domestic tyrant; the boys, the servants, +always looked upon him as a kind friend; but he was an +exact disciplinarian, and the wheels of the domestic machinery +at Hillside went smoothly. If Geraldine complained that one +of the servants did not do her duty, his answer was always +prompt: 'Send her away and get another. A servant without +a conscience will never do for me.' But, as a matter of fact, +no master was better served.</p> + +<p>To Audrey's relief, Michael appeared with Mr. Blake. He +came in looking a little pale from the exertion of dressing so +hurriedly, and Audrey's conscience pricked her for want of +consideration as she saw that he limped more than usual, +always a sign with him of over-fatigue. Mr. Blake looked +handsomer than ever in evening dress, and Audrey noticed that +Geraldine looked at him more than once, as though his appearance<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">{41}</a></span> +struck her. He certainly seemed very shy, and made his +excuses to his hostess in a low voice.</p> + +<p>'I ought not to have accepted Dr. Ross's kind invitation,' +he said, starting a little as the dinner-bell immediately followed +his entrance; 'everything is in such confusion at home.'</p> + +<p>'I suppose it was like hunting for a needle in a truss of hay,' +observed Michael, in a genial voice. 'I can imagine the difficulties +of making a toilet under such moving circumstances. +No pun intended, I assure you. Don't look as though you want +to hit me, Harcourt. I would not be guilty of a real pun for +the world.'</p> + +<p>Mr. Harcourt was unable to reply at that moment, as he +had to offer Audrey his arm and follow Dr. Ross into the +dining-room; but as soon as they were seated and grace had +been said, he addressed Michael.</p> + +<p>'I need not ask an omnivorous reader as you are, Burnett, if +you remember "Elia's" remarks about puns.'</p> + +<p>'I suppose you mean that "a pun is a pistol let off at the +ear, not a feather to tickle the intellect." Poor old "Elia"! +what a man he was! With all his frailties he was adorable.'</p> + +<p>'Humph! I should be sorry to go as far as that; but I own +I like his quaint, racy style. Dr. Ross is a fervent admirer of +"St. Charles," as Thackeray once called him.'</p> + +<p>'Indeed, I am. I agree with Ainger in regarding him as +the last of the Elizabethans. I love his fine humour and homely +fantastic grandeur of style,' returned Dr. Ross warmly. 'The +man's whole life, too, is so wonderfully pathetic. Few scenes +in fiction are so touching as that sad scene where the unhappy +Mary Lamb feels the dreaded attack of insanity coming on, and +brother and sister, hand-in-hand, and weeping as they go, perform +that sorrowful journey across the fields to the house where +Mary is to be sheltered. I used to cry over that story as a boy.'</p> + +<p>Audrey drew a long breath of relief. Her father had started +on one of his hobbies. All would be well now.</p> + +<p>For one moment she had been anxious, very anxious. Like +other men, Michael had his weaknesses. Nothing would annoy +him more than to be supposed guilty of a premeditated pun. +He always expressed a great deal of scorn for what he called a +low form of wit—'and which is as far removed from wit,' he +would add, 'as the slums of the Seven Dials are from Buckingham +Palace.'</p> + +<p>Mr. Harcourt was quite aware of this fastidious dislike on +Michael's part. It was, therefore, in pure malice that he had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">{42}</a></span> +asked that question about 'Elia'; but Michael's matter-of-fact +answer had baffled him, and the sole result had been to start a +delightful discussion on the writings of Charles Lamb and his +contemporaries—a subject on which all three men talked exceedingly +well.</p> + +<p>Audrey listened to them with delight. She was aware that +Mr. Blake, who sat next her, was silent too. When a pause in +the conversation occurred, she turned round to address him, and +found him regarding her with an air of intelligent curiosity.</p> + +<p>'You seem to take a great deal of interest in all this,' he +said, with a smile. 'Most ladies would consider it dry. I +suppose you read a great deal.'</p> + +<p>'I am afraid not. I love reading, but one finds so much +else to do. But it is always a pleasure to me to hear my father +talk. My brother-in-law, too, is a very clever man.'</p> + +<p>'So I should imagine. And Captain Burnett—is he also a +relative?'</p> + +<p>'Only a sort of cousin. But he has no nearer ties, and he +spends half his time at Woodcote. My sister and I look upon +him as a brother—in fact, he has supplied a great want in my +life. From a child I have so longed to have a brother of my +own.'</p> + +<p>Mr. Blake looked down at his plate.</p> + +<p>'A brother is not always an undivided blessing,' he said in +a low voice, 'especially when he is a daily and hourly reproach +to one. Oh, you know what I mean,' throwing back his head +with a quick, nervous gesture. 'My mother says she has told +you. I saw you looking at Kester this afternoon, but you are +aware it was all my fault.'</p> + +<p>'But it was only an accident,' she returned gently. 'I hope +that you are not morbid on the subject, Mr. Blake. Boys are +terribly venturesome. I wonder more of them are not hurt. +I am quite sure Kester does not blame you.'</p> + +<p>'No, you are right there; but somehow it is difficult for me +to forget that my unlucky slip has spoiled the poor fellow's life. +He is very good and patient, and we do all we can for him; +but one dare not glance at the future. Excuse my bothering +you with such a personal matter, but I cannot forget the way +you looked at Kester; and then my mother said she had told +you the whole story.'</p> + +<p>'I was very much interested,' she began, but just then Mr. +Harcourt interrupted them by a remark pointedly addressed to +Mr. Blake, so that he was obliged to break off his conversation<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">{43}</a></span> +with Audrey. This time the ladies were decidedly bored—none +of them could follow the discussion; the conversation at Woodcote +was rarely pedantic, but this evening Mr. Harcourt chose +to argue a purely scholastic question—some translation from the +Greek, which he declared to be full of gross errors.</p> + +<p>Audrey felt convinced that the subject had been chosen with +the express purpose of crushing the new master; on this topic +Michael would be unable to afford him the slightest help. +True, he had been studying Greek for his own pleasure the last +two years at her father's suggestion, and had made very fair +progress, but only a finished scholar could have pronounced +with any degree of certainty on such a knotty point.</p> + +<p>She was, therefore, all the more surprised and pleased when +she found that Mr. Blake proved himself equal to the occasion. +He had kept modestly in the background while the elder men +were speaking, but when Mr. Harcourt appealed to him he took +his part in the conversation quite readily, and expressed himself +with the greatest ease and fluency; indeed, he not only ventured +to contradict Mr. Harcourt, but he brought quite a respectable +array of authorities to back his opinions.</p> + +<p>Audrey felt so interested in watching the changes of expression +on her brother-in-law's face that she was quite reconciled +to the insuperable difficulties that such a topic offered to her +understanding. The sarcastic curve round Mr. Harcourt's +mouth relaxed; he grew less dry and didactic in speech; each +moment his manner showed more earnestness and interest. +The silent young master was by no means annihilated; on the +contrary, he proved himself a worthy antagonist. Audrey was +quite sorry when Geraldine, stifling a yawn, gave her mother +an imploring glance. Mrs. Ross willingly took the hint, and +as Michael opened the door for them he whispered in Audrey's +ear: 'He is quite capable of taking care of himself.' And +Audrey nodded assent.</p> + +<p>She lingered in the hall a moment to look out on the +moonlight, and on opening the drawing-room door she heard a +few words in Geraldine's voice:</p> + +<p>'Splendidly handsome—dangerously so, in my opinion; +what do you think, mother?'</p> + +<p>'Well, my dear, I have seldom seen a finer-looking young +man; and then his manners are so nice. Some clever young +people are always pushing themselves into the conversation; +they think nothing of silencing older men. Mr. Blake seems +very modest and retiring.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">{44}</a></span></p> + +<p>'Yes, but he is too handsome,' was the regretful reply; and +then Audrey joined them.</p> + +<p>'I knew you would say so,' she observed, with quite a +pleased expression. 'Handsome is hardly the word; Mr. +Blake has a beautiful face—he is like a Greek god.'</p> + +<p>Geraldine drew herself up a little stiffly.</p> + +<p>'My dear Audrey, how absurd! do Greek gods have +olive complexions? How Percival will laugh when I tell him +that!'</p> + +<p>'To be sure,' returned Audrey calmly; 'thank you for +reminding me that you are married, Gage; I am always +forgetting it. That is the worst of having one's sister married; +one is never sure that one's little jokes and speeches are not +repeated. Now, as my confidences are not intended for Percival, +I will learn slowly and painfully to hold my tongue for +the future.'</p> + +<p>This very natural speech went home, as Audrey intended it +should. With all her dictatorial ways and clever management, +Geraldine had a very warm heart.</p> + +<p>'Oh, Audrey dear,' she said, quite grieved at this, 'I hope +you are not speaking seriously. Of course I will not repeat it +to Percival if you do not wish it; but when you are married +yourself you will know how difficult it is to keep back any +little thing that interests one.'</p> + +<p>'When I am married—I mean, if I be ever married,' +substituted Audrey, blushing a little, as girls will—'I hope I +shall be quite as capable of self-control and discrimination as in +my single days. I have never considered the point very +closely; but now I come to think of it, I would certainly have +an understanding with my husband on the wedding-day. "My +dear Clive," I would say to him—Clive is a favourite name of +mine; I hope I shall marry a Clive—"you must understand +once for all that, though I intend to treat you with wifely +confidence, I shall only tell my own secrets—not other people's." +And he will reply, "Audrey, you are the most honourable of +women. I respected you before; I venerate you now."'</p> + +<p>'Audrey, how you talk!' But Mrs. Harcourt could not +help laughing. Audrey was looking very nice this evening; +white always suited her. To be sure, her hair might have +been smoother. 'There is some sort of charm about her that +is better than beauty,' she thought, with sisterly admiration; +and then she asked her mother if she did not think Percival +looked a little pale.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">{45}</a></span></p> + +<p>'He works too hard,' she continued; 'and he will not break +himself of his old bachelor habit of sitting up late.'</p> + +<p>'Men like their own way; you must not be too anxious,' +retorted Mrs. Ross tranquilly. 'When I first married, I +worried myself dreadfully about your father; but I soon found +it was no use. And look at him now; late hours have not +hurt him in the least. No one has better health than your +father.'</p> + +<p>But the young wife was only half comforted.</p> + +<p>'My father's constitution is different,' she returned. 'Percival +is strong; but his nerves are irritable; his organisation is +more sensitive. It is burning both ends of the candle. I tell +him he uses himself up too lavishly.'</p> + +<p>'I used to say much the same things to your father, but he +soon cured me. He asked me once why I was so bent on +bringing him round to my opinions. "I do not try to alter +yours," I remember he said once, in his half-joking way. "I do +not ask you to sit up with me; though, no doubt, that is part +of your wifely duty. I allow you to go to bed when you are +sleepy, in the most unselfish way. So, my dear, you must +allow me the same liberty of action." And, would you +believe it, I never dared say another word to him on the +subject.'</p> + +<p>'You are a model wife, are you not, mother?' observed +Audrey caressingly.</p> + +<p>'No, dear; I never deserved your father,' returned Mrs. +Ross, with much feeling, and the tears started to her eyes. +'If only my girls could have as happy a life! I am sure dear +Geraldine has done well for herself—Percival makes her an +excellent husband; and if I could only see you happily settled, +Audrey, I should be perfectly satisfied.'</p> + +<p>'Are you so anxious to lose me?' asked the younger girl +reproachfully. 'You must find me a man as good as father, +then. I am not so sure that I want to be married; I fancy an +old maid's mission will suit me best. I have too many plans +in my head; no respectable man would tolerate me.'</p> + +<p>'May I ask what you ladies are talking about?' asked +Captain Burnett, as he sauntered lazily round the screen that, +even in summer-time, shut in the fireplace, and made a cosy +corner. Mr. Blake followed him.</p> + +<p>Audrey looked at them both calmly.</p> + +<p>'I was only suggesting my possible mission as a single +woman. Don't you think I should make a charming old maid,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">{46}</a></span> +Michael?' and Audrey folded her beautifully-shaped arms, and +drew herself up; but her dimple destroyed the effect. Cyril +Blake darted a quick look at her; then he crossed the room +and sat down by Mrs. Ross, and talked to her and Geraldine +until it was time for him to take his leave.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">{47}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h3>THE GRAY COTTAGE</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>'I think I love most people best when they are in adversity; for pity is +one of my prevailing passions.'—<span class="smcap">Mary Wolstonecraft Godwin's Letter.</span></p></div> + +<p>The next morning, as Captain Burnett was strolling across +the tennis-lawn in search of a shady corner where he could read +his paper, he encountered Audrey. She was walking in the +direction of the gate, and had a basket of flowers in her hand.</p> + +<p>She was hurrying past him with a nod and a smile, but he +coolly stopped her.</p> + +<p>'May I ask where you are going, my Lady Bountiful?' for +this was a name he often called her, perhaps in allusion to her +sweet, bountiful nature; but Audrey, in her simplicity, had +never understood the compliment.</p> + +<p>She hesitated a moment; and this was so unusual on her part, +that Captain Burnett metaphorically pricked up his ears. To +use his own language, he immediately scented the whole business.</p> + +<p>'I am going into the town; but I have a great deal to do,' +she returned quickly. 'Please do not detain me, Michael. I +am not like you: I cannot afford the luxury of idleness.'</p> + +<p>'Well, no; it is rather a dear commodity, certainly,' he +replied pleasantly, though that hasty speech made him inwardly +wince, as though someone had touched an unhealed wound. +'Luxury of idleness!' how he loathed it!</p> + +<p>'If you are too long, I shall come and look after you,' he +continued significantly; but to this she made no reply. She +took herself to task as she walked on. She had not been +perfectly open with Michael, but then he had no right to +question her movements. She had spoken the truth; she +certainly had business in the town—several orders to give—before +she went to the Gray Cottage. Michael was her ally—her +faithful, trusty ally. No knight sworn to serve his liege<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">{48}</a></span> +lady had ever been more zealous in his fealty. But even to +Michael she did not wish to confess that the greater part of the +morning would be spent at the Gray Cottage.</p> + +<p>Audrey had no idea that her cousin had guessed her little +secret—that he was smiling over it as he unfolded his paper. +Her conscience was perfectly easy with regard to her motives. +Pure compassion for those two poor children was her only inducement. +There was no danger of encountering the elder +brother.</p> + +<p>The windows of the great schoolroom opened on the terrace, +and as Audrey had passed to gather her flowers she had had a +glimpse of a dark, closely-cropped head, and the perfect profile +that she had admired last night, and she knew the new master +would be fully occupied all the morning. Audrey felt a little +needle-prick of unavailing compunction as she remembered her +allusion to the Greek god yesterday.</p> + +<p>'I wish I were not so foolishly outspoken!' she thought. 'I +always say just what comes into my head. With some people +it would not matter—with Michael, for example. He never +misunderstands one's meaning. But poor dear Gage is so +literal. Clever as she is, she has no sense of humour.'</p> + +<p>Here she paused at the grocer's to give her orders, but +directly she left the shop she took up the same thread again:</p> + +<p>'I am always making resolutions to be more careful, but it +never seems any use. The thoughts will come tumbling out +like ill-behaved children just let out of school. There is no +keeping them in order. I fancy Mr. Blake is outspoken, too, +when he gets rid of his shyness. I was so surprised when he +blurted out that little bit about his brother. He looked so sad +over it, too. I think I must have made a mistake in supposing +that he only cared for his mother. It was odd to make me his +confidante; but, then, people always do tell me things. He is +Irish, of course. Irishmen are always impulsive.'</p> + +<p>But here another list of orders to be given at the ironmonger's +checked these vague musings.</p> + +<p>Audrey was fully expected at the Cottage. She had hardly +lifted the latch of the gate before Mollie appeared in the doorway.</p> + +<p>'I knew you would come,' she said shyly, as Audrey kissed +her and put the flowers in her hands. 'Oh what lovely flowers! +Are they for mamma, Miss Ross? Thank you ever so much! +Mamma is so passionately fond of flowers, and so is Cyril.'</p> + +<p>'And not Kester?'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">{49}</a></span></p> + +<p>'Oh yes; he loves them too,' burying her face in the +delicious blossoms—'roses especially; they are his favourite +flowers. But, of course, no one thinks of sending them to +Kester; he is only a boy.'</p> + +<p>'And I daresay you like them, too?'</p> + +<p>Mollie vehemently nodded assent.</p> + +<p>'Well, then, I shall bring you and Kester some next time. +You are right in thinking those are for your mother. May I go +in and speak to her?—for we have to be very busy, you know.'</p> + +<p>'Mamma is not up yet,' returned Mollie; and as Audrey +looked surprised, she added quickly: 'She and Cyril sat up so +late last night. She was wanting to hear all about his evening, +and it was such a lovely night that they were in the garden +until nearly twelve o'clock, and so, of course, she is tired this +morning.'</p> + +<p>Audrey made no reply to this. Mrs. Blake was charming, +but she was certainly a little erratic in her habits. No wonder +there was so little comfort in the house when the mistress disliked +early rising.</p> + +<p>Mollie seemed to take it as a matter of course; besides, she +was too much absorbed in the flowers to notice Miss Ross's +reproving silence. She rushed off to find a jug of water, and +Audrey turned into the dining-room, which presented the same +aspect of confusion that it had worn yesterday. Kester was on +his knees trying to unpack a hamper of books. It cost him a +painful effort to rise, and he looked so pale and exhausted that +Audrey at once took him in hand.</p> + +<p>'My dear boy,' she said kindly, as she helped him to the +sofa, 'how very imprudent! You have no right to try your +strength in that way. How could Mollie let you touch those +books!'</p> + +<p>'She has everything to do, and I wished to help her,' he +returned, panting with the exertion. 'Cyril wants his books +so badly, and he has put up the bookcase, you see. He did +that this morning—he had scarcely time to eat his breakfast—and +then he asked Mollie if she would unpack the books.'</p> + +<p>'I will help Mollie,' returned Audrey, laying aside her hat. +'Now, Kester, I want to ask you a favour. You will only be +in our way here. Will you please take possession of that nice +hammock-chair that someone has put outside the window? and +we will just fly round, as the Yankee domestics say.'</p> + +<p>Audrey spoke with such good-natured decision, with such +assurance of being obeyed, that Kester did not even venture on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">{50}</a></span> +a grumbling remonstrance—the poor fellow was too much +accustomed to be set on one side, and to be told that he was +no use. But Audrey had no intention of leaving him in idleness.</p> + +<p>'By and by, when the room is a little clearer, you can be of +the greatest help to us; for you can sit at the table and dust +the books in readiness for us to arrange.' And Kester's face +brightened up at that.</p> + +<p>Audrey was quite in her element. As she often told her +mother, she was robust enough for a housemaid. The well-ordered +establishment at Woodcote, with its staff of trained +domestics and its excellent matron, afforded little scope for her +youthful activities. Mrs. Ross was her own housekeeper, and +though she had contentedly relinquished her duties to Geraldine +for the last few years, she had not yet offered to transfer them +to Audrey.</p> + +<p>Audrey pretended to be a little hurt at this arrangement, +but in reality she was secretly relieved. Her tastes were not +sufficiently domestic. She liked better to supplement her +mother's duties than to take the entire lead. In her way she +was extremely useful. She wrote a great many of the business +letters, undertook all the London shopping, and assisted Mrs. +Ross in entertaining her numerous visitors, many of whom were +the boys' mothers; and though Mrs. Ross still regretted the +loss of her elder daughter, and complained that no one could +replace Geraldine, she was fully sensible of Audrey's efficiency +and good-humoured and ready help.</p> + +<p>'Audrey is as good as gold, and does all I want her to do,' +she said to Geraldine, when the latter had questioned her very +closely on the subject.</p> + +<p>It was no trouble to Audrey to dash off half a dozen letters +before post-time, or to drive into Sittingbourne to meet a batch +of boys' relatives. She was naturally active, and hated an idle +moment; but no work suited her so well as this Herculean +task of evoking order out of the Blake chaos. Molly was so +charmed with her energy, so fired by her example, that she +worked like a dozen Mollies. The books were soon unpacked +and on the table; then Biddy was called in to clear away the +straw and hampers, and to have a grand sweep. Nothing more +could be done until this had been carried out, so they left Biddy +to revel in dust and tea-leaves, while they turned out another +hamper or two in the kitchen; for in the course of their labours +Mollie had confided to Audrey that certain indispensable articles +were still missing.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">{51}</a></span></p> + +<p>'The best thing would be to get rid of as many of the +hampers as possible,' replied Audrey; 'they are only in the +way; let us pack them up in the yard, and then one can have +room to move.'</p> + +<p>When Biddy had finished her labours and all the dirt had +been removed, Kester hobbled in willingly to dust the books, +and Audrey and Mollie arranged them on the shelves. There +were not so very many, but they were all well and carefully +chosen—Greek and Latin authors, all Carlyle's and Emerson's +works, a few books of history and philosophy, the principal +poets, and some standard works of fiction: Dickens, Thackeray, +and Sir Walter Scott—the latter bound very handsomely. +Audrey felt sure, as she placed the books on the shelves, that +this little library was collected by a great deal of self-denial +and effort. The young student had probably little money to +spare. With the exception of Sir Walter Scott and Thackeray, +none of the books were handsomely bound; that they were +well read was obvious, for a volume of Browning's poems +happening to fall from her hand, Audrey could see profuse +pencil-marks, and one philosophical book had copious notes on +the margin.</p> + +<p>'They are all Cyril's books,' observed Mollie, unconsciously +answering Audrey's thought. 'Poor Cyril! it is such a trouble +to him that he cannot afford to buy more books. When he +was at Oxford he used to go without things to get them; he +said he would sooner starve than be without books. Is it not +sad to be so dreadfully poor, Miss Ross? But I suppose you +don't know how it feels. Mamma bought him that lovely +edition of Thackeray—oh, and Sir Walter Scott's novels too. +Don't you like that binding? it is very expensive. Cyril was +so vexed at mamma's spending all that money on him when +Kester wanted things, I am afraid he hardly thanked her, and +mamma cried about it.'</p> + +<p>Mollie was chattering on without thinking until a bell made +her start and hurry away. She did not come back for some +time, and Audrey finished her task alone.</p> + +<p>'I have been making mamma some coffee,' she said gravely; +'she had one of her headaches. She has sent you a message, +Miss Ross; she is so delighted with the flowers. She wanted +to get up at once and thank you, and then she thought she had +better lie still until her headache was better; but she will be +down presently.'</p> + +<p>'Then we must make haste and finish the room before she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">{52}</a></span> +comes. Mollie, I can do nothing with those pictures; we will +put them up against the wall until your brother can hang them. +Let me see; that corner behind the writing-table—no one can +see them there. Quick! hand me another. Is this a portrait +of your father?' stopping to regard a half-length figure of a +fine-looking man in naval uniform.</p> + +<p>'No, that is only an uncle of mamma's; I forget his name. +Do you remember it, Kester? Papa was a merchant—at least, +I think so.'</p> + +<p>'Has he been long dead?'</p> + +<p>'Oh yes; he died abroad when Kester and I were quite +little; that is why we are so poor. Mamma has often told us +that it is her money we are living on. I don't know how she +managed to send Cyril to Oxford; but we had no house all that +time, only poky little lodgings. Are we going to arrange the +furniture now, Miss Ross? Oh, how comfortable the room +begins to look, and how delighted Cyril will be when he comes +home this afternoon! He says that Dr. Ross wants him after +school, so he will not run home before dinner. How glad I am +that Cyril will always have a nice dinner now! He does so +hate Biddy's cooking; he declares everything tastes alike. You +say so, too, don't you, Kester?'</p> + +<p>Kester's answer was a shrug of the shoulders; he seemed +more reserved than Mollie, who was chattering to her new friend +with all the frankness and thoughtlessness of a very young girl.</p> + +<p>'Mamma never minds what sort of dinner Biddy sends up, +if only Cyril does not find fault. I think she would live on +tea and dry bread all the year round if only Cyril could have +nice things.'</p> + +<p>Cyril—always Cyril! Audrey turned the subject by asking +Mollie if she would like the couch in the window. Mollie +clapped her hands delightedly at the effect.</p> + +<p>'It looks beautiful; don't you think so, Kester? And how +funny! Miss Ross has put your own particular little table +beside it, just as though she guessed that it was to hold your +desk and your books. There is Kester's little box of books, +but he will unpack them himself by and by.'</p> + +<p>'Mollie, have you ordered the dinner?' interrupted Kester a +little anxiously—and poor Mollie's face fell.</p> + +<p>'Oh dear, I am so sorry, but I have forgotten all about it; +the butcher has not called, and there are only those potatoes +and bread and cheese. Mamma is right when she says my +head is like a sieve.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">{53}</a></span></p> + +<p>'Why don't you send Biddy for some chops, my dear?' +remarked Audrey very sensibly.</p> + +<p>Kester had spoken in a loud whisper, but she had overheard +every word. Mollie started off with a look of relief to hunt up +the old woman, and when Audrey found herself alone with +Kester she could not help saying to him:</p> + +<p>'Mollie is a very young housekeeper—girls of fourteen are +liable to forget sometimes;' but to her surprise he fired up at +once:</p> + +<p>'They all expect too much of her; I hate to see her slave +as she does: it is not right, it is not fair—I tell Cyril so. She +has no time to herself; all her lessons are neglected. If only +mother would send Biddy away and get another servant!'</p> + +<p>'Who teaches Mollie, then?' she asked, a little curiously.</p> + +<p>'Oh, mother gives her lessons sometimes, but they are not +very regular, and I help her with arithmetic and Latin. Cyril +always gives me an hour or two in the evening, when his work +is done, but of course Mollie does not care to learn Greek.'</p> + +<p>'Do you mean that your brother gives you lessons when he +has been teaching all day?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, and he is awfully tired sometimes; but he never likes +me to be disappointed. Mother often tries to make him take a +walk instead; but Cyril is such a brick: he never will listen to +her.'</p> + +<p>Audrey felt a little glow of satisfaction as she heard this. +What a kind brother Mr. Blake seemed to be—how truly +estimable! she would never judge hastily of anyone again. +Just then the clock struck one, and she told Kester that she +must hurry away. She was disappointed that Mrs. Blake had +not yet appeared—she wanted to see the face that had haunted +her so persistently; but the bewitching widow had not shown +herself.</p> + +<p>'I am afraid I must go, or I shall be late for luncheon,' she +said hurriedly.</p> + +<p>'I will tell Mollie,' returned the boy; and then he said a +little awkwardly: 'You have been awfully good to us, Miss +Ross; I don't know how Mollie and I are to thank you. You +must be quite tired out.'</p> + +<p>Audrey laughed.</p> + +<p>'I am not so easily tired, Kester, and I am rather fond of +this sort of work. Do you think your mother would mind if I +were to look in to-morrow afternoon and help a little with the +drawing-room? Mollie said something about it just now, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">{54}</a></span> +I half promised—she is to help Biddy put up the plates and +dishes this afternoon; that will be as much as she can do.'</p> + +<p>'I am sure mother will be only too delighted,' replied Kester +gratefully; and then Audrey went in search of Mollie, and +found her occupied with the chops, while Biddy cleaned the +knives. Mollie turned a scorched cheek to her.</p> + +<p>'Dear Miss Ross, thank you ever so much,' she said fervently +as Audrey repeated her promise of looking in the next afternoon.</p> + +<p>'Poor little soul! how interested Michael will be when I +tell him all about her!' she thought as she walked briskly +towards Woodcote.</p> + +<p>Audrey had scarcely closed the green gate behind her before +Mrs. Blake's foot sounded on the stairs. She looked pale and +heavy-eyed, and walked into the room a little languidly; but if +Audrey had seen her she would only have thought that her +paleness invested her with fresh interest.</p> + +<p>'Miss Ross has gone, mamma,' observed Mollie regretfully, +as she followed her into the room.</p> + +<p>'Yes, I know; I felt too jaded to face visitors this morning—Miss +Ross looks at one so, and my nerves would not stand it. +How are you, Kester?' kissing his forehead lightly; 'you look +better than usual. I don't believe I closed my eyes until four +o'clock. Dear me!' interrupting herself; 'there are Cyril's +books nicely arranged—did you do them, Mollie? Why, the +room looks quite comfortable and homelike. Miss Ross must +have helped you a great deal.'</p> + +<p>'Oh yes, mamma,' exclaimed Mollie and Kester eagerly; and +they were about to expatiate on Audrey's wonderful goodness, +when their mother checked them:</p> + +<p>'Please don't speak so loud, children, or you will make my +head bad again. I will tell you what we will do, Mollie. We +will make those curtains, and then this room will be quite +finished. There are only the hems and just the tops to do. +We can have no difficulty in finishing them before Cyril comes +home. The red tablecloth is at the top of the black box—if +you will fetch it, Mollie—and I have arranged the flowers in +that pretty green vase.'</p> + +<p>'But, mamma,' pleaded Mollie, in a vexed voice, 'the room +will do quite well without curtains for one day, and I promised +Miss Ross to help Biddy with the plates and dishes. All the +hampers are unpacked, and there is not a corner in the kitchen +to put anything—and it does make Biddy so cross.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">{55}</a></span></p> + +<p>'Nonsense, Mollie! Who minds about Biddy's crossness! +I suppose I may do as I like in my own house. Let us have +dinner, and then we will set to work at once—you and I—and +Kester can read to us;' and, seeing that her mother's mind was +fully made up, Mollie very wisely held her tongue, probably +admonished thereto by a mild kick from Kester.</p> + +<p>So, as soon as the chops had been eaten, Mollie produced her +mother's work-basket and a shabby little cotton-box that was +appropriated to her own use, and sewed industriously, only +pausing at intervals to watch the white, slender fingers that +seemed to make the needle fly through the stuff.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Blake was evidently an accomplished seamstress, and +long before four o'clock the curtains were put up, and duly +admired by the whole family and Biddy.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">{56}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h3>KESTER'S HERO</h3> + +<table summary="quotation"> +<tr><td> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse">'Measure thy life by loss instead of gain—</div> +<div class="verse">Not by wine drunk, but by the wine poured forth;</div> +<div class="verse">For love's strength standeth in love's sacrifice;</div> +<div class="verse">And whose suffers most hath most to give.'</div> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<div class="sign"><span class="smcap">Ugo Bassi.</span></div> +</div> +</td></tr> +</table> + + +<p>Audrey was bent on keeping her promise to Mollie, but she +found a great deal of finesse and skilful management were +necessary to secure her afternoon from interruption.</p> + +<p>First, there was a note from Hillside. Mrs. Harcourt had +to pay a round of visits, and would be glad of her sister's +company: and as Mrs. Ross evidently thought that a refusal was +impossible under such circumstances, Audrey felt that she was +in a dilemma.</p> + +<p>'Gage will have the carriage,' she said, with a trace of +annoyance in her tone. 'She cannot possibly require me, +especially as she knows an afternoon spent in paying formal +calls is my pet abomination.'</p> + +<p>'But, my dear Audrey, you would surely not allow your sister +to go alone,' began her mother in a voice of mild remonstrance. +She very seldom interfered with Audrey—indeed, that young +person was in most respects her own mistress—but when +Geraldine's interests were involved Mrs. Ross could be firm. +'You are very good-natured,' she went on, 'and I am sure it is +very good of you to take all that trouble for those poor neglected +children'—for Mrs. Ross's motherly sympathies were already +enlisted on behalf of Mollie and Kester—'but, of course, your +first duty is to your sister.'</p> + +<p>'But, my dear mother, a promise is a promise, and poor +little Mollie is expecting me.' And then a bright idea came to +Audrey. 'Why should you not go with Gage yourself? It is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">{57}</a></span> +a lovely afternoon, and the drive will do you good. Gage +would much prefer your company to mine, and you know how +much she admires your new bonnet;' and though Mrs. Ross +faintly demurred to this, she was in the end overruled by +Audrey.</p> + +<p>'Dear mother! she and Gage will enjoy themselves thoroughly,' +thought Audrey, as she watched Mrs. Ross drive from the door, +looking the picture of a well-dressed English gentlewoman.</p> + +<p>Audrey had to inflict another disappointment before she +could get her own way. Michael wanted her to go with him +to the cricket-field. There was a match being played, and on +these occasions Audrey was always his companion. She understood +the game as well as he did, and always took an intelligent +interest in it. Audrey was sorry to refuse him and to see him +go off alone.</p> + +<p>'Never mind; I daresay I shall only stay for an hour,' he +said, as he took down his hat and walked with her to the gate +of the Gray Cottage.</p> + +<p>Mollie was on the watch for her, and darted out to meet +her.</p> + +<p>'Oh, Miss Ross,' she said excitedly, 'I have so much to tell +you! Mamma has had to go up to London this morning on +business, and she is so sorry because she did not see you +yesterday; and I was to give you all sorts of messages and +thanks. And now please do come into the kitchen a moment, +and you will see how hard we have worked.'</p> + +<p>Audrey followed her at once.</p> + +<p>'Oh, Mollie, how could you have done so much!' she exclaimed +in genuine surprise, as she looked round her.</p> + +<p>The plates and dishes were neatly arranged on the dresser, +the dish-covers and tins hanging in their places, the crate of +glass and china emptied of its contents and in the yard. The +floor had been scrubbed as well as the table, and Biddy stood +by the side of her freshly-blackleaded stove, with the first +smile Audrey had yet seen on her wrinkled face.</p> + +<p>'It is not all Miss Mollie's doing,' she said, with a chuckle, +as she carried off the kettle.</p> + +<p>'Did your mother help you?' asked Audrey, for Mollie only +looked mysterious.</p> + +<p>'Mamma! Oh dear no! She was busy all the evening with +the curtains. Oh, what fun! I do wish Kester were here, but +he is studying his Greek. Dear Miss Ross, you do look so +puzzled. It was not mamma, and it was not Biddy, though<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">{58}</a></span> +she cleaned the kitchen this morning; and of course it could +not be Kester.'</p> + +<p>'I will give it up,' returned Audrey, laughing. 'Some +magician must have been at work—and a very clever magician, +too.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, I will tell Cyril that!' replied Mollie, clapping her +hands. 'Why did you not guess Cyril, Miss Ross? He is +clever enough for anything.'</p> + +<p>'Do you mean Mr. Blake put up all these plates and dishes?' +observed Audrey, feeling as much surprised as an Athenian +damsel would have been if she had heard of Apollo turning +scullion.</p> + +<p>'Yes, indeed! I must tell you all about it,' returned +Mollie garrulously, for she was an inveterate chatterbox. 'You +know, I had promised to help Biddy because she was in such a +muddle, and then mamma came down and said we must get the +dining-room curtains ready, to surprise Cyril when he came home.</p> + +<p>'Well, he was very pleased; but I am afraid mamma thought +that he took more notice of the way his books were arranged +than of the curtains; but he said it all looked very nice, and +that we were getting to rights now; and then mamma said +that, as she was in the mood for work, we might as well do the +drawing-room curtains too.'</p> + +<p>'But, my dear Mollie, the furniture is not yet arranged.'</p> + +<p>'No, of course not; but you don't understand mamma. She +never does things quite like other people. She likes either to +work all day long, and not give herself time for meals even, or +else to do nothing; she likes beginning things, but she hates +being compelled to finish them. That is why I am obliged to +wear this shabby old frock,' looking down at it ruefully. +'Mamma has two such pretty ones half done, and I don't know +when she will finish them.'</p> + +<p>'Does your mother make all your frocks, dear?'</p> + +<p>'Yes; and she does work so beautifully—everyone says so. +But she is not always in the mood, and then it troubles her; +she was in the curtain mood last night. Cyril saw I was vexed +about something, and when mamma went out of the room he +asked me if I were tired; and I could hardly help crying as I +told him about my promise to you; and then he called me a +little goose, and pulled my hair, as he does sometimes, and told +me to leave it to him.'</p> + +<p>'Yes——' as Mollie paused from sheer want of breath.</p> + +<p>'Of course Cyril can always manage mamma. He sent me<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">{59}</a></span> +into the kitchen, and in ten minutes he came after me, and +asked what was to be done. Kester dusted all the glass, and +Cyril and I did the rest. We were hard at work till ten +o'clock; and Biddy was so pleased.'</p> + +<p>'And now we must go upstairs,' returned Audrey, when +Mollie's story was told. 'Perhaps Biddy will be good enough +to help us.' And in a little while the three were hard at work.</p> + +<p>Audrey and Mollie arranged the shabby furniture to the best +advantage. One or two Oriental rugs were spread on the dark-polished +floor; then the curtains were hung and draped in the +most effective manner, and some old china, that Mollie said was +her mother's special treasure, was carefully washed and placed +on the shelves of an old cabinet.</p> + +<p>'It really looks very nice,' observed Audrey contentedly, +when Biddy had gone down to see after the tea. She had +enjoyed her afternoon far more than if she had been paying +those calls with Geraldine. 'I always liked this room so +much;' and she gave a touch to the big Japanese screen and +flecked some dust from the writing-table. 'I daresay your +mother will alter the position of the furniture—people always +have their own ideas. But I hope she will not move the couch; +it stands so well in that recess. Do you think she will like +this little table in the window, Mollie? I am sure this would +be my favourite seat;' and Audrey took it for a moment as she +spoke, and looked down at the old arches and the quiet courtyard, +with its well-worn flagstones. The martins were twittering +about the eaves; some brown, dusty sparrows were chirping +loudly. The ivy-covered buildings round the corner were just +visible; and a large gray cat moved stealthily between the +arches, intent on some subtle mischief. Mr. Charrington's boys +were all on the cricket-field, watching an exciting match +between Rutherford and Haileybury, and the school-house was +deserted.</p> + +<p>'That must be your seat when you come to see us,' observed +Mollie affectionately. 'Mamma was only saying this morning +that she had taken a fancy to you, and hoped you would come +very often; and Kester said he hoped so, too, because you were +so very kind.'</p> + +<p>'Did you have many friends at Headingly?' asked Audrey +absently.</p> + +<p>She was wondering to whom Kester was talking. She +could hear his voice through the open window; it sounded +bright and animated. It could not possibly be his brother<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">{60}</a></span>; +Mr. Blake would be with the boys on the cricket-field. Perhaps +Mrs. Blake had returned from town.</p> + +<p>'We had no friends at all,' returned Mollie disconsolately; +'at least, no real friends. People just called on us and left +their cards. Mrs. Bryce was very kind to Kester, but mamma +never got on with her. We none of us liked Headingly much, +except Cyril. Everyone was nice to him, but when mamma +fretted and said she was miserable, and that no one in the +place cared for her, he seemed to lose interest, too; and when +this vacancy occurred, he just said he had had enough of it, +and that mamma would be happier in a fresh place, and so we +came here, and now we have found you;' and Mollie's brown +eyes were very soft as she spoke.</p> + +<p>'Oh, you will find plenty of people to like at Rutherford,' +replied Audrey. 'You have not seen my mother yet, Mollie; +she is so good to everyone, and so is father. And then there +is my cousin, Captain Burnett, who half lives with us; he is +one of the nicest men possible.'</p> + +<p>But as Audrey spoke, she had no idea that Michael was +that minute talking to Kester. It fell out in this way: +Michael found it slow on the cricket-field without Audrey; so +many people came up and talked to him that he got quite +bored. Captain Burnett was a general favourite with men as +well as women; he had the reputation of being a hero: women +pitied him for his ill-health and misfortunes, and men admired +him for the cheerful pluck with which he endured them.</p> + +<p>'Burnett is a pleasant fellow and a gentleman,' was one +observation. 'Perhaps he is a bit solemn at times, but I +fancy that confounded wound of his gives him trouble. Anyhow, +he never plagues other people with his ailments. "Grin +and bear it"—I fancy that is Burnett's motto.'</p> + +<p>Michael found the cricket-field dull without Audrey's liveliness +to give zest to the afternoon; she always took people away +when he was tired. He had had enough of it long before the +match was over. Just as he was sauntering homewards he +encountered Mr. Blake, and in the course of brief conversation +he learnt that Mrs. Blake was in town.</p> + +<p>Michael thought he would call and see if Audrey were ready +to come home—it would do no harm to inquire at the door; +but Biddy, who was scouring the doorsteps, told him abruptly +to step in and he would find the lady; and, half amused at +his own coolness, he, nothing loath, accepted the invitation.</p> + +<p>He found Kester alone in the dining-room busy over his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">{61}</a></span> +lessons. He looked up in some astonishment at the sight of +a strange gentleman, and Zack, the retriever, growled rather +inhospitably at Booty. Perhaps the Dachs-hund's short legs +affronted him.</p> + +<p>'Am I disturbing you?' asked Michael in his most genial +manner. And he looked at the boy's pale intelligent face with +much interest. 'I have come to see after my cousin, Miss +Ross. Is she anywhere about? My name is Captain +Burnett.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, I know,' returned Kester, flushing a little nervously +under the scrutiny of those keen blue eyes; 'Cyril told us +about you. Miss Ross is upstairs with Mollie; they are putting +the drawing-room to rights, but they will be down to tea +presently. Will you sit down,' still more nervously, 'or shall +I call Mollie?'</p> + +<p>'No, no; there is no hurry, unless I am interrupting you,' +with a glance at Kester's books. 'You are doing Greek, +eh?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, I am getting ready for Cyril this evening; but I am +too tired to do more.'</p> + +<p>And Kester pushed away his papers with a movement +that betrayed latent irritability. Michael knew that sign of +weakness well.</p> + +<p>'That is right; shut up your books,' he said with ready +kindness. 'Never work when you are tired: it is bad +economy; it is using up one's stock of fuel too recklessly—lighting +a furnace to cook a potato. The results are not worth +it. Tired work is bad work—I have proved it.'</p> + +<p>'I am generally tired,' returned Kester with a sigh. And +it was sad to see the gravity that crept over the young face. +'It does not do to think too much of one's feelings; one has +just to bear it, you know. I am ignorant enough as it is, and +I must learn; I will learn!' setting his teeth hard.</p> + +<p>Michael shot a quick glance at the lad; then he turned +over the leaves of the book next him for a moment in silence.</p> + +<p>'I must know more of this fellow,' he thought; 'Audrey +is right; she is generally right about people.' Then in his +ordinary quiet tone:</p> + +<p>'I wonder your brother finds time for private tuition. I +live at the lower school, you know, and so I understand all +about the junior master's work. Mr. Blake has his evenings +free generally, but there is dormitory work and——'</p> + +<p>'Cyril says he will always give me an hour and a half,'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">{62}</a></span> +interrupted Kester eagerly. 'Of course, it is not good for him +to have any more teaching; but he says he would hate to see +me grow up a dunce—and—and'—swallowing down some +secret emotion—' I think it would break my heart not to know +things.'</p> + +<p>'And you want to be a classical scholar?' in the same grave +tones.</p> + +<p>'I want to learn everything;' and here there was a sudden +kindling in the boy's eyes. 'I must do something, and my +lameness hinders everything but that—perhaps, if I learn +plenty of Latin and Greek, I may be able to help Cyril one +day. We often talk about it, and even mother thinks it is a +good plan. One day Cyril hopes to have a school of his own—when +he is older, you know—and then I could take the younger +boys off his hands and save him the cost of an usher; don't +you think that would be possible?' looking anxiously at +Michael, for somehow those steady clear eyes seemed so +thoroughly to comprehend him.</p> + +<p>'I think it an excellent plan,' retained Michael slowly; +"knowledge is power"—we all know that. Do you know,' +drawling out his words a little, 'that I have been working at +Greek, too, for the last two years? I took it up as a sort of +amusement when I was seedy; it would not be bad fun to +work together sometimes. I daresay you are ahead of me in +Greek, but I don't believe you could beat me in mathematics. +We could help each other, and it would be good practice. I +suppose your brother gives you lessons in mathematics.'</p> + +<p>Kester shook his head.</p> + +<p>'There is not time for everything, and Cyril always says +mathematics are not in his line—he is a classical master, you +see.'</p> + +<p>'Oh yes, that is easily understood; but you can have more +than one master. Come, shall we make a bargain? Will you +read Greek with me? and I will give you an hour three +times a week for mathematics, or anything else you like. I +am an idle man, and any fixed occupation would be a boon to +me.'</p> + +<p>'Do you mean it?' was the breathless answer; and then +he added, a little shyly: 'I am awfully obliged; I should like +it of all things; but you are not strong, are you?—Miss Ross +told us so.'</p> + +<p>'Not particularly; I was rather knocked about by the +Zulus, you know, and my leg gives me a good deal of trouble.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">{63}</a></span> +I am pretty heavily handicapped—we are both in the +same boat, are we not?—but we may as well make a fight +for it.'</p> + +<p>'Someone told me,' returned Kester, in a tone of great awe, +'that you have the Victoria Cross, Captain Burnett.'</p> + +<p>Michael nodded; he never cared to be questioned on the +subject.</p> + +<p>'Will you let Mollie and me see it one day?' half whispered +the boy. 'I hope you don't mind my asking you, but I have +always so wanted to see it. I am afraid you won't tell us all +about it, but I should dearly love to hear.'</p> + +<p>No one had ever induced Michael to tell that story; the +merest allusion to his gallantry always froze him up in a +moment—even Dr. Ross, who was his nearest confidant, had +never heard the recital from his own lips. But for once Michael +let himself be persuaded; Kester's boyish eagerness prevailed, +and, to his own surprise, Michael found himself giving the +terrible details in a cool, business-like manner.</p> + +<p>No wonder Kester forgot the time as he listened; the lad's +sensitive frame thrilled with passionate envy at the narrative. +At last he had met a hero face to face. What were those old +Greek fellows—Ajax, or Hector or any of those gaudy +warriors—compared with this quiet English soldier?</p> + +<p>'Oh, if I could only be you!' he sighed, as Michael ended +his recital; 'if I could look back on a deed like that! How +many lives did you save, Captain Burnett?—you told me, +but I have forgotten. I think you are the happiest man I +know.'</p> + +<p>Kester in his boyish reticence could not speak out his inmost +thought, or he would have added: 'And the greatest and the +grandest man I have ever seen.'</p> + +<p>A dim, inscrutable smile flitted over Captain Burnett's +features.</p> + +<p>'My dear fellow, happiness is a purely relative term. I am +not a great believer in happiness. A soldier without his work +is hardly to be envied.'</p> + +<p>Kester was young, but his life had already taught him many +things. He was acute enough to detect a note of bitterness in +his new friend's voice. It said, more than his words, that +Captain Burnett was a disappointed man. He looked at him +wistfully for a moment.</p> + +<p>'Yes, I know what you mean. You would like to be back +with your regiment. It is very hard—very hard, of course;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">{64}</a></span> +but you are not suffering for nothing, like me. Don't you see +the difference?'—dropping his voice. 'I have got this pain +to bear, and no good comes of it; it is just bearing, and +nothing else. But you have suffered in saving other men's +lives. It is a kind of ransom. Oh, I don't know how to +express myself, but it must be happiness to have a memory +like that!'</p> + +<p>Kester had spoken with a sort of involuntary outburst. For +a moment Captain Burnett turned his head aside. He felt +rebuked by this crude, boyish enthusiasm, which had gone so +straight to the heart of things. Why was he, the grown man, +so selfish, so impatient, when this poor lad acquiesced so +meekly in his fate? Had Kester deserved his lot?</p> + +<p>'You are right,' observed Michael, in a low tone. 'One +ought only to be thankful, and not complain.'</p> + +<p>And just at this moment Audrey came in, and stood on the +threshold transfixed with amazement, until Michael rose and +offered her a chair.</p> + +<p>'You here!' she gasped. 'I thought I heard voices. +Mollie, this is my cousin, Captain Burnett. I suppose we must +let him stay to tea.'</p> + +<p>Mollie gave her invitation very shyly. The poor child was +thinking of her shabby frock, with the great rent in the skirt, +so hastily cobbled up. The pale man with the reddish +moustache was very formidable in Mollie's eyes. Mollie was +sure her hand would tremble when she lifted the heavy teapot. +She had been so looking forward to having a cosy tea with their +dear Miss Ross, and now everything was spoilt.</p> + +<p>When Mollie was shy she always looked a little sulky; but +Michael, who noticed her embarrassment, set himself to charm +it away.</p> + +<p>Biddy had set the little tea-table under the acacia-tree; but +as Mollie, blushing and awkward, commenced her arduous +duties, she found herself assisted by the formidable Captain +Burnett.</p> + +<p>Before half an hour was over Mollie thought him quite the +nicest man that she had ever seen. He was so kind, so helpful; +he told such interesting stories. Mollie forgot her +Cinderella rags as she listened. Her eyes sparkled; a pretty +colour came to her face; her rough brown hair had gleams of +gold in it. Mollie did not look plain or awkward then.</p> + +<p>'Her eyes are nice, and she has a sweet voice and a +ringing laugh,' thought Michael as he glanced at her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">{65}</a></span></p> + +<p>How merry they all were! What nonsense they talked, as +they sat there watching some pigeons circling among the arches! +The little garden was still and pleasant. Zack was stretched +out beside them, with Booty curled up near him. Audrey was +the first to call attention to the lateness of the hour.</p> + +<p>'We must go home now, Michael,' she said, in a tone of +regret, which was loudly echoed by Mollie and Kester.</p> + +<p>Mollie closed the green gate after them; then she rushed +back to Kester.</p> + +<p>'Do you like him—Captain Burnett, I mean?' she asked +eagerly. 'I was so afraid of him at first; his eyes seem to +look one through and through, even when he says nothing. But +he is kind—very kind.'</p> + +<p>'Is that all you have found out about him?' returned her +brother contemptuously. 'That is so like a girl! Who cares +about his eyes? Do you know what he is? He is a hero—he +has the Victoria Cross. He has saved a lot of lives. Come +here, and I will tell you all about it; it will make your hair +stand on end more than it does now.'</p> + +<p>But the story made Mollie cry, and from that hour she and +Kester elected Captain Burnett to the position of their favourite +hero.</p> + +<p>'We must tell Cyril all about him when he comes home,' +observed Mollie, drying her eyes. 'You are right, Kester. +Captain Burnett is quite the best, and the nicest, and the +bravest man I have ever seen.'</p> + +<p>'Hear, hear!' interposed Cyril mischievously, thrusting his +dark face out of the dining-room window. He had heard the +whole story with a great deal of interest. And then, as Mollie +darted towards him with a little shriek of assumed anger, he +laughed, and sauntered out into the garden.</p> + +<p>'Let us do our Greek out here, old fellow,' he said, throwing +himself down on the grass, while Zack jumped on him. 'Have +you got some tea for me, Mollie, or have you forgotten the teapot +in your hero-worship? How late mother is!' He hesitated +and looked at Kester. 'She would like me to meet her; it is +such a long, lonely walk. But no'—as a cloud stole over +Kester's face—'perhaps she will take the omnibus. Open +your books and let me see your day's work;' and Cyril quietly +repressed a yawn as he took a cup of cold tea from Mollie's +hand.</p> + +<p>He was tired. A walk through the dewy lanes would +refresh him. He was in a restless mood; he wanted to be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">{66}</a></span> +alone, to stretch himself and to think—perhaps to indulge in +some youthful dream. But he was used to combating these +moods; he would rather bear anything than disappoint +Kester. And then he drank off his tea without a murmur, +and the next moment the two brothers were hard at work.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">{67}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h3>'I HOPE BETTER THINGS OF AUDREY'</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>'Your manners are always under examination, and by committees +little suspected—a police in citizen's clothes—who are awarding or denying +you very high prizes when you least think of it.'—<span class="smcap">Emerson.</span></p></div> + + +<p>Mrs. Harcourt had had a successful afternoon. All the +nicest people had been at home, and a great many pleasant +things had been said to her; her mother had been a charming +companion. Nevertheless, there was a slight cloud on Mrs. +Harcourt's face as she walked through the shrubbery that led +to her house, and the fold of care was still on her brow as she +entered her husband's study—a pleasant room on the ground-floor, +overlooking the garden. Mr. Harcourt was reading, but +he put down his magazine and greeted his wife with a smile. +He was just rising from his seat, but she prevented him by +laying her hand on his shoulder.</p> + +<p>'Don't move, Percival; you look so comfortable. I will +sit by you a minute. I hope I am not interrupting you.'</p> + +<p>'Such an interruption is only pleasant, my dear,' was the +polite answer. 'Well, have you and Audrey had a nice afternoon?'</p> + +<p>'Mother came with me. Audrey had some ridiculous +engagement with the Blakes. Percival, I am growing seriously +uneasy at this new vagary on Audrey's part. Would you +believe it?—she has been the whole afternoon at the Gray +Cottage helping those children! and Michael has been there, +too; we met them just now.'</p> + +<p>Mr. Harcourt raised his eyebrows; he was evidently surprised +at this bit of news, though he took it with his usual +philosophy.</p> + +<p>'Never mind, Jerry,' he said kindly, after a glance at his +wife's vexed face, 'we cannot always inoculate people with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">{68}</a></span> +our own common-sense. Audrey was always inclined to go her +own gait.'</p> + +<p>Geraldine blushed; she always did when her husband +called her Jerry. Not that she minded it from him, but if +anyone else—one of the boys, for example—were to hear it, +the dignified mistress of the house felt she would never have +got over it. In her unmarried days no one had presumed to +call her anything but Geraldine or Gage, and yet before three +months were over her husband had invented this nickname +for her.</p> + +<p>'It is no use fretting over it,' he went on in the same +equable voice; 'you and Audrey are very different people, my +love.'</p> + +<p>'Yes; but, Percy dear, it is so trying of Audrey to take up +the very people that mother and I were so anxious to avoid. +I declare I am quite sorry for mother; she said, very truly, +how is she to keep an intrusive person like Mrs. Blake at a +distance now Audrey has struck up this violent friendship with +her? She has even taken Michael there, for of course he +would never go of his own accord. I am so vexed about it all; +it has quite spoilt my afternoon.'</p> + +<p>'Burnett was on the cricket-field a great part of the afternoon,' +returned Mr. Harcourt. 'I saw him talking to Charrington +and Sayers.'</p> + +<p>'Then she must have asked him to fetch her,' replied +Geraldine, with an air of decision that evidently amused her +husband; 'for Michael told us of his own accord that he had +been having tea at the Cottage. It is really very foolish and +incautious of Audrey, after Edith's hint, too! I wish you +would tell her so, Percival, for she only laughs at my advice.'</p> + +<p>'And you think she would listen to me?'—still with the +same amused curl of the lip.</p> + +<p>'I think she ought to listen to you, dear—a man of your +experience and knowledge of the world—if you would give her +a little of your mind. It is so absurd for a grown-up person +to behave like an impulsive child. Michael is particular in +some things, but he spoils Audrey dreadfully. He and father +encourage her. It is your duty, Percival, to act a brother's +part by her, and guide her for her own good.'</p> + +<p>Geraldine was evidently in earnest, and Mr. Harcourt forbore +to smile as he answered her:</p> + +<p>'But if she refused to be guided by me, my dear?'</p> + +<p>'Oh, I hope better things of Audrey,' replied Geraldine, in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">{69}</a></span> +such a solemn voice that her husband laughed outright, +though he drew down her face to his the next minute and +kissed it.</p> + +<p>'You are a good girl to believe in your husband. I don't +envy Audrey's future spouse; he will have much to bear. +Audrey is too philanthropic, too unpractical altogether, for a +smooth domestic life. We are different people, as I said +before. Come, cheer up, darling. If I find it possible to say +a word in season, you may trust me to do so. Ah! there is +the dressing-bell.'</p> + +<p>And Mr. Harcourt rose and stretched himself, and began +gathering up his papers as a hint to his wife that the subject +was concluded.</p> + +<p>Audrey was not so unreasonable as her sister supposed; she +had no intention of placing herself in direct opposition to her +family—on the contrary, she was somewhat troubled by +Geraldine's chilling reception that afternoon. Michael had +stopped the carriage and informed the two ladies of the manner +in which he and Audrey had spent their afternoon.</p> + +<p>'We have both been having tea at the Gray Cottage,' he +said cheerfully. 'I hope you have spent as pleasant an afternoon, +Gage. That youngster—Kester they call him—is a bright, +intelligent lad, and Mollie is a nice child.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, indeed!' was Geraldine's reply; 'I am afraid we are +late, Michael, and must drive on;' and then she nodded +to Audrey: but there was no pleasant smile on her face.</p> + +<p>'Gage is put out with us both,' observed Audrey, as they +turned in at Woodcote. 'I shall be in for another lecture, +Michael.'</p> + +<p>Audrey had no wish to be a bugbear to her family. For +several reasons she thought it politic to avoid the Gray Cottage +for a day or two: Mollie must not depend on her too much. +When her mother and Geraldine had called, and Mrs. Blake +was on visiting terms with them, things would be on a +pleasanter footing. She was somewhat surprised, when Sunday +came, to find Mr. Blake was the sole representative of his +family in the school chapel. She had looked for the widow +and her children in the morning, and again in the afternoon, +and as she exchanged greetings with Cyril in the courtyard +after service she could not refrain from questioning him on the +subject.</p> + +<p>'I hope Mrs. Blake has not another headache?' she asked +rather abruptly as he came up to her, looking very handsome<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">{70}</a></span> +and distinguished in his cap and gown—and again Audrey +remembered her unlucky speech about the Greek god.</p> + +<p>Cyril seemed a little embarrassed.</p> + +<p>'Oh no, she is quite well, only a little tired; she has rather +knocked herself up. Kester had a touch of his old pain, so I +told him not to come.'</p> + +<p>'And Mollie?' But Cyril did not appear to hear the +question.</p> + +<p>'Will you excuse me?' he observed the next moment, +rather hurriedly; 'I think Mrs. Charrington is waiting for +me—she asked me to go to the school-house to tea.'</p> + +<p>And as he left her, Audrey found herself obliged to join her +sister and Mrs. Harcourt.</p> + +<p>'Have you many people coming to you to-morrow afternoon?' +asked Geraldine, as they walked on together.</p> + +<p>'Only the Luptons and Fortescues and Mr. Owen and Herr +Schaffmann—oh, and—I forgot, father asked Mr. Blake.'</p> + +<p>Audrey spoke a little absently. They were passing the +Gray Cottage—a blind was just then raised in one of the lower +rooms, and a small pale face peeped eagerly out at the passers-by. +Audrey smiled and waved her hand in a friendly manner, +and a bright answering smile lighted up the girlish face.</p> + +<p>'What an untidy-looking child!' remarked Geraldine carelessly; +'is that your <i>protégée</i>?' and then she continued, in a +reproving tone: 'It is really disgraceful that none of the +family were in chapel. Edith was right when she spoke of +Mrs. Blake's mismanagement of her children; that poor girl +had a most neglected look.'</p> + +<p>Audrey did not answer; she thought it wiser to allow her +sister's remark to pass unchallenged; she had a shrewd suspicion +why Mollie was not in chapel—the shabby, outgrown frock had +probably kept her at home.</p> + +<p>'Poor little thing!' she thought, with a fresh access of pity, +for Mollie had certainly looked very forlorn. And then she +turned her attention with some difficulty to what Geraldine +was saying.</p> + +<p>Dr. Ross was famed for his hospitality, and both he and +his wife loved to gather the young people of Rutherford about +them.</p> + +<p>On Monday afternoons during the summer there was always +tennis on the Woodcote lawn; one or two of the families from +the Hill houses, and perhaps a bachelor master or two, made +up a couple of sets. The elder ladies liked to watch the game<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">{71}</a></span> +or to stroll about the beautiful grounds. Mrs. Ross was an +excellent hostess; she loved to prepare little surprises for her +guests—iced drinks or strawberries and cream. Geraldine +generally presided at her mother's tea-table; Audrey would be +among the players. Tennis-parties and garden-parties of all +kinds were common enough in Rutherford, but those at Woodcote +certainly carried off the palm.</p> + +<p>Mr. Harcourt had always been considered one of the best +players, but on the Monday in question he found himself ranged +against no mean antagonist, and he was obliged to own that +young Blake played superbly.</p> + +<p>'You would have won every game this afternoon if you had +had a better partner,' observed Audrey, as she and Cyril walked +across the lawn. She had been playing with him the greater +part of the afternoon, and had been much struck with his quiet +and finished style. 'My brother-in-law has always been considered +our champion player, but you certainly excel him.'</p> + +<p>'I have had a great deal of practice,' returned Cyril modestly. +'I think you are wrong about our respective powers. Mr. +Harcourt plays exceedingly well; being so much younger, I am +a little more agile—that is all.'</p> + +<p>'Yes; and you would have beaten him this last game, but +for me. I have played worse than usual this afternoon.'</p> + +<p>'You must not expect me to endorse that opinion, Miss Ross. +I have never seen any lady play half so well. You took that +last ball splendidly. Now we have exchanged these mutual +compliments, may I ask you to show me the lake? Kester +gave a tremendous description of it when he came home to-day. +Captain Burnett put him in the punt, and he seems to have +had a grand time altogether.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, I heard all about it at luncheon.'</p> + +<p>'It is good of your cousin to take all this trouble,' went on +Cyril in a lower voice, as they walked down one of the terraces. +'I was quite taken aback when he spoke to me yesterday. I +thought he could not be in earnest. You know he asked me +to go up to his private room after luncheon, and we had a long +talk until it was time to go to chapel.'</p> + +<p>'Will it be possible for your brother to come here two or +three times a week, Mr. Blake?'</p> + +<p>'Oh yes; he can manage that short distance—at least, when +he is pretty well; and the change will be so good for him. It +is quite a load off my mind to know he will learn mathematics +as well as Greek and Latin. You have no idea, Miss Ross,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">{72}</a></span> +how clever that boy is. If he had only my opportunities, he +would beat me hollow in no time. I tell my mother so, but +she will not believe it; but she thinks with me that it is +awfully good of your cousin to interest himself in Kester.'</p> + +<p>'It will be a godsend to Michael,' returned Audrey. 'You +see, my cousin's health is so bad that he cannot employ himself, +and he is debarred from so much enjoyment. He helps my +father a good deal with the boys when he is here, but sometimes +the noise is too much for him. It will suit him far better to +study quietly with your brother. Of course, he meant to be +kind—he is always doing good to someone or other—but this +time the kindness will benefit himself. He quite enjoyed his +morning. He told me so in a tone as though he meant it.'</p> + +<p>'And Kester looked ever so much brighter. What comfortable +quarters Captain Burnett has! I had no idea he had a +private sitting-room, and he tells me he has rooms in town as +well.'</p> + +<p>'Yes; but we do not let him use them oftener than we can +help. It is so dull for him to be alone. My father is anxious +for him to live altogether at Woodcote—he thinks the Rutherford +air suits him so much better than that of town; but +Michael cannot be persuaded to give up his rooms. I tell him +it is all his pride, and that he wishes to be independent of us.'</p> + +<p>'He is your father's cousin, you say?'</p> + +<p>'Yes; and he is just like his son,' returned Audrey, wondering +why Mr. Blake looked at her so intently. 'You know, I +told you that we looked upon Michael as our own brother. +Here we are at the pond—or lake, as we prefer to call it—and +there are the swans, Snowflake and Eiderdown, as I have +christened them.'</p> + +<p>'It is a charming spot,' observed Cyril, leaning over the +fence to look at the beautiful creatures. He was quite unaware, +as he lounged there, that he added another picturesque effect +to the landscape, his bright blue coat and peaked cap making +a spot of colour against Audrey's white gown. 'So that is the +island where Kester found the forget-me-nots for Mollie? It +looks as though one could carry it off bodily in one's arms,' he +continued, after a reflective pause.</p> + +<p>'Mr. Blake, I will not permit such remarks,' returned Audrey, +laughing. 'I have often paddled myself about the lake. At +least, it is deep enough to drown one. Now tell me how +Mollie is.'</p> + +<p>'Mollie is inconsolable because she has not seen you for two<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">{73}</a></span> +whole days. She spent most of the morning at the window in +the hope of seeing you pass.'</p> + +<p>'Nonsense!'</p> + +<p>'Oh, it is a fact, I assure you. My mother told me so +herself. Will there be any chance of your looking in to-morrow, +Miss Ross? I am going back now, and I am sure such a +message would make Mollie happy for the remainder of the +evening.'</p> + +<p>Audrey smiled.</p> + +<p>'I do not think I will send the message, Mr. Blake. I half +thought of calling on some friends of mine who live a little way +out of Rutherford, but if I have time——'</p> + +<p>She paused, not quite knowing how to finish her sentence.</p> + +<p>'Well, I will say nothing about it,' he returned quickly. +'You have been far too good to us already. Mollie must not +presume on your kindness;' and then he took up his racket.</p> + +<p>'Why are you leaving us so early, Mr. Blake? There is +surely time for another game?'</p> + +<p>'Thanks; I must not stop any longer now. My mother +asked me to take her for a walk, and, as Kester can do without +me this evening, I promised that I would.'</p> + +<p>'And you will take Mollie? There is such a pretty walk +across the fields to Everdeen Wood, if Mrs. Blake does not +mind a few stiles. Mollie will not, I am sure.'</p> + +<p>'I think Mollie will prefer to stay with Kester,' he replied +quickly. 'I am sorry to leave so early, Miss Ross, but one +does not like to disappoint other people.'</p> + +<p>'I begin to think you are one of the unselfish ones,' thought +Audrey, as she gave him her hand. Then aloud: 'You must +come to us next Monday, Mr. Blake, for I am sure my brother-in-law +will want his revenge. Oh, there is Booty, so of course +his master is not far off. I will go and meet him.'</p> + +<p>Then she nodded to Cyril, and turned off into a side-path +just as Captain Burnett came in sight.</p> + +<p>'Are they still playing, Michael?'</p> + +<p>'No. Harcourt wants to be off; he and Gage are to dine +at the Fortescues', so they have agreed to break up earlier. +Why is Blake leaving us so soon? Your father proposed that +he should be asked to dinner.'</p> + +<p>'I don't think he would be persuaded,' she replied, wishing +that she had not taken him so easily at his word. 'He has +promised to take his mother for a walk. He is really a very +good son. Most young men care only about their own pleasure.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">{74}</a></span></p> + +<p>'I think I like him,' returned Michael, in his slow, considering +tone. 'We had a smoke together yesterday up in my +room, and I confess he interested me. He seems to feel his +responsibility so with respect to that poor boy. He was very +grateful to me for my proposed help, and said so in a frank, +manly fashion that somehow pleased me.'</p> + +<p>'I am so glad you like him, Michael!' and Audrey's tone +expressed decided pleasure.</p> + +<p>'Oh, we shall hit it off very well, I expect; but I daresay +we shall not see very much of each other. He goes in for +cricket, and makes tremendous scores, I hear, and the Hill +houses will soon monopolise him. He is too good-looking a +fellow not to be a favourite with the ladies—eh, Audrey?'</p> + +<p>'I am sure I don't know,' returned Audrey, who could be a +trifle dense when she chose. 'I do not think Mr. Blake is a +lady's man, if that is what you mean. Don't you detest the +genus, Michael?'</p> + +<p>'Do I not!' was the expressive answer; and then he went +on: 'I am quite of your opinion that Blake is a nice, gentlemanly +fellow; but I think that brother of his is still more +interesting. Poor little chap! he has plenty of brains; he is +as sharp as some fellows of nineteen or twenty. Blake is clever +enough, but one of these days Kester will make his mark. He +has a perfect thirst for knowledge. I drew him out this morning, +for we only made a pretence at work. You should have heard +him talk.'</p> + +<p>'That is exactly his brother's opinion,' returned Audrey; +and she repeated Cyril's words.</p> + +<p>Michael was evidently struck by them.</p> + +<p>'He seems very fond of him, and, for the matter of that, the +poor boy is devoted to his brother. I suppose that accident has +made a link between them. I do not know that I ever took so +much interest in your <i>protégés</i> before. By the bye, what has +become of the O'Briens, Audrey?'</p> + +<p>'I am going to see them to-morrow. I know what that +inquiry means, Michael. You think that I am always so much +taken up with new people that I forget my old friends; but +you are wrong.' And then she added, a little reproachfully: +'That you of all people should accuse me of fickleness!'</p> + +<p>Captain Burnett smiled a little gravely.</p> + +<p>'You are investing my words with too large a meaning. I +do not think you in the least fickle; it is only your headlong +sympathies that carry you away.' But as Audrey looked a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">{75}</a></span> +little mystified over this speech, he continued: 'I would not +have you neglect Mr. O'Brien for the world. I only wish +Vineyard Cottage were a mile or two nearer, and I would often +smoke a pipe in that earwiggy bower of his. I have a profound +respect for Thomas O'Brien. I love a man who lives up to his +profession, and is not above his business. A retired tradesman +who tries to forget he was ever behind the counter, and who +goes through life aping the manners of gentlefolk, is a poor sort +of body in my eyes; he is neither fish, fowl, nor good red +herring. Now Mr. O'Brien is as proud of being a corn-chandler +as'—he paused for a simile—'as our drummer-boy was of +belonging to the British army.'</p> + +<p>'Poor old man! he has seen a peck of trouble, as he calls it.'</p> + +<p>'There, you see,' interrupting her delightedly, 'his very +language borrows its most powerful imagery from his past +belongings! Do you or I, Audrey, in our wildest and most +despairing moments, ever talk of a peck of trouble? Depend +upon it, my dear, when Thomas made that speech, he was +among his bins again; in his mind's eye he was measuring out +his oats and beans. I think I hear him repeating again what +he once said to me: "It is such a clean, wholesome business, +Captain. I often dream I am back in the shop again, with my +wife laying the tea in the back-parlour. I can feel the grain +slithering between my fingers, and even the dropping of the +peas on the counter out of the overfilled bags is as plain as +possible. Mat always did his work so awkwardly."'</p> + +<p>'I don't think he has ever got over the loss of his wife, +Michael.'</p> + +<p>'Of course not. Is he likely to do so, with Mrs. Baxter's +lugubrious countenance opposite him morning, noon, and night? +I don't wonder her husband ran away from her; it would take +a deal of principle to put up with such a trying woman.'</p> + +<p>'Michael, I will not have you so severe on my friends! Mrs. +Baxter is a very good woman, and she takes great care of her +father. We cannot all be gifted with good spirits. Poor +Priscilla Baxter is a disappointed woman.'</p> + +<p>Michael shrugged his shoulders, but he was spared making +any reply, as just then they encountered Geraldine and her +husband. They were evidently looking for Audrey.</p> + +<p>'Are you going, Gage?' observed Audrey serenely. 'I was +just coming up to the house to wish you good-bye, only Michael +detained me.'</p> + +<p>'I thought you were with Mr. Blake,' returned her sister, in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">{76}</a></span> +a puzzled tone. 'I wish you would come up to luncheon to-morrow—I +have scarcely spoken two words to you this afternoon. +Edith is coming.'</p> + +<p>'It will be a pity to interrupt your <i>tête-à-tête</i>,' returned +Audrey pleasantly; 'Mrs. Bryce has always so much to say, +and she comes so seldom.' And, as her sister's face clouded, +she continued: 'I will run up for an hour on Wednesday, but +I really cannot neglect Mr. O'Brien any longer—he will have +been looking for me day after day.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, if you are going to Vineyard Cottage,' in a mollified +tone that Audrey perfectly understood, 'you will have tea there, +of course.'</p> + +<p>'Do you think Mrs. Baxter would let me come away without +my tea?' returned Audrey quickly.</p> + +<p>She was inwardly somewhat annoyed at this questioning. +She had meant to go to the Gray Cottage on her way; but now +she must give that up: Mollie must watch for her a little +longer. Perhaps she could go to Hillside in the morning and +keep her afternoon free. And as she came to this conclusion, +she bade her sister an affectionate good-bye. But as Geraldine +took her husband's arm in the steep shrubbery walk, she said, +in a dissatisfied tone:</p> + +<p>'I am glad we found her with Michael; but, all the same, +she and Mr. Blake were partners all the afternoon.'</p> + +<p>'My dear Geraldine,' returned Mr. Harcourt with assumed +solemnity, 'I think Audrey may be trusted to manage her own +little affairs—she is two-and-twenty, is she not? When you +have daughters of your own, my love, I am quite sure you will +manage them excellently, and no young man will have a chance +of speaking to them; but with Audrey it is another matter.' +And then, in a tragic undertone: 'Have you forgotten, wife +mine, a certain afternoon when you did me the honour of playing +with me three whole sets, and then we cooled ourselves down +by the lake, until your father hunted us out?'</p> + +<p>Geraldine pressed her husband's arm gently; she remembered +that afternoon well, and all Percival had said to her—they had +just come to an understanding when her father interrupted them. +For one moment her face softened at the sweet remembrance, +and then she roused herself to remonstrate.</p> + +<p>'But, Percy dear, this is utterly different. Audrey would +never dream of falling in love with Mr. Blake. Fancy a girl +in her position encouraging the attentions of a junior master. +No, indeed; I was only afraid of a little flirtation. Of course<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">{77}</a></span> +Audrey declares she never flirts, but she has such a way with +her—she is too kind in her manner sometimes.'</p> + +<p>'It is to be hoped that she will not break as many hearts +as a certain young person I know—eh, Jerry?' and Geraldine +blushed and held her peace.</p> + +<p>She never liked to be reminded of the unlucky wooers +who had shaken off the dust of Woodcote so sorrowfully. +As for Mr. Harcourt, he delighted in these proofs of conquests. +Geraldine had not been easy to win—she had given her lover +plenty of trouble; but she was his now, and, as he often told +himself, no man had ever been more fortunate in his choice. +For Mr. Harcourt, in spite of his delight in teasing, was very +deeply in love with his beautiful wife.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">{78}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h3>MAT</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>'Sympathy or no sympathy, a man's love should no more fail towards +his fellows than that love which spent itself on disciples who altogether +misunderstood it, like the rain which falls on just and unjust alike.'—<span class="smcap">Mark +Rutherford.</span></p></div> + + +<p>Vineyard Cottage, where the retired corn-chandler had elected +to spend the remnant of his days, was no pretentious stucco +villa; it was a real old-fashioned cottage, with a big roomy porch +well covered with honeysuckle and sweet yellow jasmine, and a +sitting-room on either side of the door, with one small-paned +window, which was certainly not filled with plate-glass. It was +a snug, bowery little place, and the fresh dimity curtains at the +upper windows, and the stand of blossoming plants in the little +passage, gave it a cheerful and inviting aspect. The tiny lawn +was smooth as velvet, and a row of tall white lilies, flanked +with fragrant lavender, filled up the one narrow bed that ran +by the side of the privet hedge.</p> + +<p>As Audrey unlatched the little gate she had a glimpse of +Mr. O'Brien in his shirt-sleeves. He was smoking in the porch, +and so busily engaged in reading his paper that Audrey's light +tread failed to arouse him, until a plaintive and fretful voice +from within made him turn his head.</p> + +<p>'Father, aren't you ashamed to be sitting there in your +shirt-sleeves when Miss Ross has come to call? And it is 'most +four o'clock, too—pretty near about tea-time.'</p> + +<p>'Miss Ross—you don't say so, Prissy!' returned Mr. O'Brien, +thrusting an arm hastily into the coat that his daughter was +holding out in an aggressively reproachful manner. 'How do +you do, Miss Ross? Wait a moment—wait a moment, until I +can shake hands with you. Now, then, the other arm, Prissy. +You are as welcome as flowers in May—and as blooming too,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">{79}</a></span> +isn't she, Prissy?' and Mr. O'Brien enforced his compliment +with a grasp of the hand that made Audrey wince.</p> + +<p>'I expected a scolding—I did indeed,' laughed Audrey, +'instead of this very kind welcome. It is so long since my last +visit; is it not, Mr. O'Brien?'</p> + +<p>'Well, ma'am, tell the truth and shame the devil; that's +my motto. I'll not deny that Prissy and I were wondering +at your absence. "What's become of Miss Ross?" she said +to me only to-day at dinner, "for she has not been near us +for an age."'</p> + +<p>'And I was right, father, and it is an age since Miss Ross +honoured us with a visit,' replied his daughter in the plaintive +tone that seemed natural to her. 'It was just five weeks ago, +for Susan Larkins had come up about the bit of washing her +mother wished to have, so I remember the day well.'</p> + +<p>'Five weeks!' responded Audrey with a shake of her head; +'what a memory you have, Mrs. Baxter, and, dear me, how ill +you are looking; is there anything the matter?' looking from +one to the other with kindly scrutiny.</p> + +<p>Mr. O'Brien and his daughter were complete contrasts to +each other. He was a stout, gray-haired man with a pleasant, +genial countenance, though it was not without its lines of care. +Mrs. Baxter, on the contrary, had a long melancholy face and +anxious blue eyes. Her black gown clung to her thin figure in +limp folds; her features were not bad, and a little liveliness +and expression would have made her a good-looking woman; +but her dejected air and want of colouring detracted from her +comeliness, and of late years her voice had grown peevish as +well as plaintive, as though her troubles had been too heavy +for her. Audrey had a sincere respect for her; but she +certainly wished that Mrs. Baxter took a less lugubrious view +of life. At times she would try to infuse a little of her own +cheerfulness; but she soon found that Mrs. Baxter was too +closely wrapped in her melancholy. In her own language, she +preferred the house of mourning to the house of feasting.</p> + +<p>'Oh, I hope there is nothing fresh the matter!' repeated +Audrey, whose clear-sighted sympathy was never at fault.</p> + +<p>She thought that Mr. O'Brien's genial face looked a shade +graver than usual.</p> + +<p>'Come and sit down, Miss Ross, and I will be hurrying the +girl with the tea,' observed Mrs. Baxter mournfully, for she +was never too lachrymose to be hospitable, and though she shed +tears on slight occasions, she was always disposed to press her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">{80}</a></span> +hot buttered cakes on her guests, and any refusal to taste her +good cheer would have grievously wounded her bruised sensibilities. +'Father, take Miss Ross into the best parlour while +I help Hannah a bit.'</p> + +<p>And as Mr. O'Brien laid aside his pipe and led the way into +the house, Audrey followed him, nothing loath.</p> + +<p>'Joe's been troubling Priscilla again,' he observed, as +Audrey seated herself on the little horsehair sofa beside the +open window, and Buff, a great tortoise-shell cat, jumped uninvited +on her lap and began purring loudly.</p> + +<p>'Joe!' repeated Audrey in a shocked voice; she knew very +well who was meant. Joe was the ne'er-do-well of a son-in-law +whose iniquities had transformed the young and comely +Priscilla into the meagre and colourless Mrs. Baxter. 'He has +no right to trouble her!' she went on indignantly.</p> + +<p>'He has been worrying for money again,' returned Mr. +O'Brien, ruffling up his gray hair in a discontented fashion; +'he says he is hard up. But that is only one of Joe's lies; he +tells lies by the peck. He had a good coat on, and looked as +thriving as possible, and I know from Atkinson, who has been +in Leeds, that he is a traveller to some house in the wine trade. +And yet he comes here, the bullying rascal! fretting the poor +lass to skin and bone with pretending he can take the law of +her for not living with him, and that after all his ill-usage.'</p> + +<p>'I am so sorry,' returned Audrey, and her tone said more +than her words. 'He is a bad man, a thoroughly heartless and +bad man—everyone knows that; and she must never go back +to him. I hope you told him so.'</p> + +<p>'Ay, I did,' with a touch of gruffness; 'I found him +bullying, and poor Prissy crying her eyes out, and looking +ready to drop—for she is afraid of him—and I just took down +my big stick. "Joe," I said, as he began blustering about her +being his true and lawful wife, "you just drop that and listen +to me: if she is your wife, she is my daughter, our only one—for +never chick nor child had we beside Priscilla—and she is +going to stop along with me, law or no law."</p> + +<p>'"I'll claim my own. There's two to that bargain, father-in-law," +he says, with a sneer; for, you see, he was turning a bit +nasty.</p> + +<p>'"And you'll claim something else as well, son-in-law!" I +replied, getting a good grip of the stick; for my blood was up, +and I would have felled him to the ground with all the pleasure +in life, only the girl got between us.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">{81}</a></span></p> + +<p>'"No, father—no violence!" she screeches out. "Don't +make things worse for poor, unhappy me. Joe is not worth +your getting into trouble on his account. Go along with +you, Joe, and Heaven forgive you; but horses wouldn't drag +me under your roof again after the way you have treated me."</p> + +<p>'Well, I suppose we made it too hot for him, ma'am, for he +soon beat a retreat. Joe was always a coward. I would have +hurried him out with a kick, but I thought it better to be +prudent; and Priscilla went and had a fit of hysterics in her own +room, and she has been looking mortal bad, poor lass! ever since.'</p> + +<p>'I wish we could save her these trying scenes, Mr. O'Brien; +they get on her nerves.'</p> + +<p>'Ah, that is what her mother said! "Prissy will never +have a day's health if we can't hinder Joe from coming to +plague her"—I remember my Susan saying that. Why, it +was half for Prissy's sake we gave up the shop. "What is +the good of filling our purse, Tom, when we have plenty for +ourselves and Priscilla!" she was always saying to me. But +there, I was fond of the shop—it is no use denying it—and it +takes a special sort of education to fit one for idleness. Even +now—would you believe it, ma'am?—I have a sort of longing +to finger the oats and peas again.'</p> + +<p>'But you are very fond of your cottage and your garden, +Mr. O'Brien. Captain Burnett says it is the prettiest little +place about here.'</p> + +<p>'Ah, I have been forgetting my manners, and I have never +asked after the Captain, though he is a prime favourite of mine. +Oh yes, he always has his little joke. "What will you sell it +for, O'Brien, just as it stands? Name your own price." Well, it +is a snug little place; and if only my little woman were here +and I had news of Mat——' And here Mr. O'Brien pushed +his hand through his gray hair again, and sighed as he looked +out on his row of lilies.</p> + +<p>Audrey sat still in sympathising silence. She knew how +her old friend loved to unburden himself. He talked to no one +else as he did to this girl—not even to the Captain. He liked +to enlarge in his simple way on his old happy life, when Prissy +was young and he and his wife thought handsome Joe Baxter a +grand lover for their girl, with his fine figure and soft, wheedling +tongue.</p> + +<p>'But we were old enough to know better—we were a couple +of fools, of course; I know that now,' he would say. 'But he +just talked us over—Joe is a rare hand at talking even now.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">{82}</a></span> +He can use fine words; he has learnt it in his business. I think +our worst time was when Prissy's baby died and she began to +droop, and in her weakness she let it all out to her mother. I +remember my little woman coming into the shop that day, with +the tears running down her face. "Tom," she says, "what +have we ever done to be so punished? Joe is treating Prissy +like a brute, and my poor girl's heart is broken." Dear, dear! +how I wanted Mat then!'</p> + +<p>Audrey knew all about this Mat—at least, the little there was +to know. One day, soon after Mr. O'Brien had lost his wife, and +she had found him sitting alone in the porch, he had begun +talking to her of his own accord of a young brother whom he +called Mat, but to no one else had he ever mentioned his name. +Audrey had been much touched and surprised by this confidence, +and from time to time Mr. O'Brien had continued to speak of +him, until she was in possession of the main facts.</p> + +<p>Thomas O'Brien had lost his parents early, and his brothers +and sisters had died in infancy, with the exception of the +youngest, Matthew, or Mat, as he was generally called. There +was so much difference between their ages that Mat was quite +a plaything and pet to his elder brother. From all accounts, +he was a bright, engaging little fellow, and developed unusual +capacity.</p> + +<p>'He was a cut above us, and people took notice of him, and +that spoiled him,' observed Mr. O'Brien one day.</p> + +<p>Audrey, piecing the fragments of conversation together, +could picture the clever, handsome lad learning his lessons +in the little back parlour, while honest Tom served in the shop. +But Mat was not always so studious: he would be sliding with +the Rector's boys, or helping them to make a snow man; sometimes +he would be having tea at the Rectory, or with his +master, or even with the curates. One of the curates was +musical, and Mat had an angelic voice. One could imagine the +danger to the precocious, clever boy, and how perhaps, on his +return, he would gibe a little in his impertinent boyish fashion +at thickheaded, clumsy Tom among his cornbins and sacks of +split peas.</p> + +<p>Mat did not wish to be a corn-chandler. When Tom married +the daughter of a neighbouring baker, Mat was heard to mutter +to one of his intimates that Tom might have looked higher for +a wife. He grew a little discontented after that, and gave the +young couple plenty of trouble until he got his way—a bad +way, too—and went off to seek his fortunes in London.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">{83}</a></span></p> + +<p>Tom missed the lad sadly; even his Susan's rosy cheeks +and good-humour failed to console him for a while. Not until +Prissy made her appearance—and in clamorous baby fashion +wheedled her way into her father's affections—did his sore +heart cease to regret the young brother.</p> + +<p>Susan used to talk to her husband in her sensible way.</p> + +<p>'It is no use your fretting, Tom,' she would say; 'boys +will be boys, and anything is better for Mat than hanging +about here with his hands in his pockets and doing nothing +but gossip with the customers. He was growing into idle ways. +It was a shame for a big fellow like Mat to be living upon his +brother; it is far better for him to be thrown on himself to +work for his bread,' finished Susan, rocking her baby, for she +was a shrewd little person in her way.</p> + +<p>'I don't like to think of Mat alone in London,' returned +Tom slowly; but as he looked into his wife's innocent eyes +he forbore to utter all his thoughts aloud. Tom was old +enough to know something of the world; he could guess at the +pitfalls that stretched before the lad's unwary feet. Mat was +young, barely eighteen, his very gifts of beauty and cleverness +might lead him into trouble.</p> + +<p>'I wish I had him here,' muttered Tom, as he went off +to serve a customer. 'Peterborough is a better place for +him than London;' for they were living at Peterborough +then.</p> + +<p>Tom cheered up presently, when Mat wrote one of his +flourishing letters; he was a fine letter-writer. He was in +luck's way, he told Tom, and had fallen on his feet; at his +first application he had obtained a clerkship in some business +house, and his employer had taken a fancy to him.</p> + +<p>'I feel like Dick Whittington,' wrote Mat, in his happy, +boastful way; 'all night long the bells were saying to me, +"Turn again, turn again, Mat O'Brien, for fortune is before +you." I could hear them in my dreams—and then the next +morning came a letter from Mr. Turner. Dear old chap, you +won't bother about me any more, for I mean to stick to my work +like a galley slave. Give my love to Susan, and kiss the little +one—couldn't you have found a better name than that Puritan +Priscilla, you foolish Tom?'—and so on. Audrey once read +that letter, and a dozen more of the same type; she thought +them very affectionate and clever. Every now and then there +were graphic descriptions of a day's amusement or sight-seeing. +What was it they lacked? Audrey could never answer that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">{84}</a></span> +question, but she laid them down with a dim feeling of dissatisfaction.</p> + +<p>Mat used to run down for a day or two when business +permitted, and take possession of his shabby little room under +the roof. How happy honest Tom would be on these occasions! +how he would chuckle to himself as he saw his customers—female +customers especially—cast sidelong glances at the handsome +dark-haired youth who lounged by the door!</p> + +<p>'Old Mrs. Stevenson took him for a gentleman,' Tom +remarked to Susan once, rubbing his hands over the joke. +'Mat is so well set up, and wears such a good coat; just look +at his boots!—and his shirts are ever so much finer than mine; +he looks like a young lord in his Sunday best,' went on Tom, +who admired his young brother with every fibre of his heart.</p> + +<p>Mat was quite aware of the sensation he made among his +old friends and neighbours; he liked to feel his own importance. +He came pretty frequently at first; he was tolerant of Susan's +homeliness and sisterly advice, he took kindly to Prissy, and +brought her a fine coral necklace to wear on her fat dimpled +neck; but after a year or two he came less often.</p> + +<p>'Leave him alone,' Susan would say when Tom grumbled +to her over his pipe of an evening; 'Mat has grown too fine +for the shop; nothing pleased him last time. He wanted +napkins with his food because of his moustache, and he complained +that his bed was so hard he could not sleep on it. It +is easy to see that our homely ways do not suit him. I wish +your heart were not set on him so much, Tom; it is thankless +work to cling to a person who wants to get rid of his belongings.'</p> + +<p>'Nay, Susan, you are too hard on the lad,' her husband +remonstrated; 'Mat will never cut us—he has an affectionate +heart. He is only having his fling, as lads, even the best of +them, will at times. By and by he will settle down, and then +we shall see more of him.'</p> + +<p>But in spite of Tom's faith, that time never came. By +and by Mat wrote with a greater flourish than ever.</p> + +<p>'Wish me joy, my dear Susan and Tom,' he wrote, 'for I +am going to be married, and to the prettiest and the dearest +girl in the world. Just fancy, Tom, her uncle is a Dean! +what do you think of your brother Mat now? "Turn again, +turn again, Mat O'Brien"—that is what the bells said to me, +and, by Jove! they were right. Haven't I had a rise this +Christmas?—and now my dear little Olive has promised to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">{85}</a></span> +take me for better or worse. Oh, Tom, you should just see +her—she is such a darling! and I am the luckiest fellow in +the world to get her! I can see Susan shaking her head and +saying in her wise way that I am young to take the cares of +life on my shoulders; but when a fellow is head over heels in +love, he cannot stop to balance arguments. And after all, we +are not so imprudent, for when the Dean dies, and he is an old +man, Olive will have a pretty penny of her own. So wish +me joy, dear Tom, and send me your blessing.'</p> + +<p>Tom fairly wept over this letter; he carried it about with +him and read it at intervals during the day.</p> + +<p>'If only she makes the lad happy!' he said to Susan. 'To +think of our Mat marrying a gentlewoman, for of course a Dean's +niece is that;' and Susan, whose knowledge of the world was +small, supposed so too.</p> + +<p>Tom was hoping that Mat would bring his young wife +down to receive his brotherly congratulations in person; but +there was always some excuse for the delay. Olive was +delicate; she could not travel; Mat could not leave her to +come himself, and so on. Tom never doubted these excuses; +he even made his little joke about the lad becoming a family +man; but Susan, who was sharper than her husband, read +between the lines. Mat was ashamed of bringing the Dean's +niece down to see the shop; it was possible, but here Susan +almost shuddered at the awfulness of the thought, that he +might not have told his wife that he had a brother.</p> + +<p>'Mat is as weak as water, with all his cleverness,' she said +to herself; 'if he has not told her yet, he will put it off from +day to day. There is nothing easier than procrastination if +you once give in to it. Few people speak the truth like my +Tom, bless him!'</p> + +<p>Susan would not grieve her husband by hinting at these +suspicions, though they grew stronger as time went on. Mat +never brought his wife to see them; he seldom wrote, unless +to tell them of the birth of a child, and then his letters were +brief and unsatisfactory. Tom once wrote and asked him if +he were happy, 'for somehow Susan and I have got into our +heads that things are not quite square,' wrote the simple fellow. +'Do come and let us have a chat together over our pipes. +Prissy is getting quite a big girl; you would hardly know her +now.'</p> + +<p>Perhaps Mat was touched by this persistent kindness on +his brother's part, for he answered that letter by return of post.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">{86}</a></span></p> + +<p>'One must not expect too much happiness in this crooked +old world,' he wrote; 'but you and Susan are such old-fashioned +people. Olive and I have as much enjoyment of +life as ordinary folk. We quarrel sometimes and make it up +again. I was never a very patient mortal—eh, old chap?—and +one's temper does not improve with age.' And then after +a little talk about the children, who had been ill with scarlatina, +the letter wound up by begging the loan of a five-pound note.</p> + +<p>Tom did not show this letter to Susan. For the first time +in his life he kept a secret from the wife of his bosom. He +put two five-pound notes in an envelope, and sent them with +his love to Olive and the children. A pang of remorse must +have crossed Mat's heart at this fresh act of kindness; but +though he acknowledged the gift with the utmost gratitude, +he neither came nor wrote again for a long time.</p> + +<p>Some time after that Tom took an odd notion in his head: +he would go up to London and see Mat and his wife and +children; he was just hankering for a sight of the lad, as he told +Susan. To be sure, Mat had never invited him—never hinted at +such a thing in his letters; he could not be sure of his welcome. +Susan tried to dissuade him, but to no purpose; for once Tom +was deaf to his little woman's advice. He left her in charge +of the shop one fine spring morning and started for London +and Bayswater, where Mat lived.</p> + +<p>He came back earlier than Susan expected, and there was +a sad look in his eyes as he sat down and filled his pipe. +Susan forbore to question him at first; she got him some supper +and a jug of the best ale, and presently he began to talk of his +own accord:</p> + +<p>'There were other people living in No. 23 Mortimer +Terrace. The O'Briens had left more than a year ago, and no +one knew where they were. Fancy Mat leaving and never +giving me his address!' finished Tom with an air of deep +depression.</p> + +<p>He was evidently much wounded at this want of brotherly +confidence.</p> + +<p>'But surely you know his business address, dear?' Susan +asked quietly.</p> + +<p>No; Tom did not know even that. He reminded her that +Mat had long ago left his old employers, and had set up for +himself; but Tom did not know where his office was.</p> + +<p>'I always wrote to his private address, you know, Susan,' he +went on. 'Mat told me that no one ever opened his letters<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">{87}</a></span> +but himself; but how am I to find him out now if he chooses +to hide himself from his only brother?'</p> + +<p>And though Tom said no more, he moped for many a day +after that fruitless expedition.</p> + +<p>By and by the truth leaked out—Mat was in trouble, and in +such trouble that no fraternal help could avail him. One awful +day, a day that turned Tom's hair gray with horror and anguish, +he heard that Mat—handsome, brilliant Mat—was in a felon's +cell, condemned to penal servitude for a long term of years. In +a moment of despair he had forged the name of one of his so-called +friends, and by this terrible act had obtained possession +of a large sum of money.</p> + +<p>Tom's anguish at this news was not to be described; he +cried like a child, and Susan vainly tried to comfort him.</p> + +<p>'My father's name,' he kept repeating—'he has disgraced +our honest name! I will never forgive him; I will have +nothing more to do with him—he has covered us all with +shame!'</p> + +<p>And then the next moment he relented at the thought of +Mat, beaten down and miserable, and perhaps repentant, in his +wretched cell.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">{88}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h3>PRISCILLA BAXTER</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>'How many people are busy in this world in gathering together a +handful of thorns to sit upon!'—<span class="smcap">Jeremy Taylor.</span></p></div> + + +<p>Audrey never forgot the day when she first heard this sad +story. It was on a winter's afternoon, and she and Mr. O'Brien +were alone in the cottage. She remembered how the setting +sun threw ruddy streaks across the snow, and how the light of +the fire beside which they sat later on in the twilight illumined +the low room and flashed out on the privet hedge, now a mass +of sparkling icicles. She and Geraldine had driven into Brail, +and by and by the carriage was coming back to fetch her.</p> + +<p>They had been talking of Mat, and Mr. O'Brien had shown +her some of his letters; and then, all at once, his face had +grown very white and troubled, and in a few husky sentences +he had told her the rest of the story; and as Audrey listened +there was a gleam of a teardrop on her long lashes.</p> + +<p>'But you went to see him—surely you went to see him?' +she asked tremulously, as he came to a sudden pause; but he +shook his gray head very sorrowfully.</p> + +<p>'I would have gone, ay, willingly, when my anger had burnt +out a bit. I just hungered to see the poor lad—he was still a +lad to me—and to shake him by the hand; for all he had done, +he was still Mat, you see; but he would not let me: he begged +and prayed of me not to come.'</p> + +<p>'Ah, that was cruel!'</p> + +<p>'Nay, he meant no unkindness; but he was pretty nearly +crazed, poor chap! I have the letter now that he wrote to +me; the chaplain sent it, but no eye but mine must ever see it. +I have written it down in my will that it is to be buried with +me: "Don't come unless you wish me to do something desperate,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">{89}</a></span> +Tom; I think if I saw your honest face in my cell I should +just make away with myself. No, no, dear old chap; let me +dree my weird, as Susan used to say. I have shamed you all, +and my heart is broken; try to forget that you ever had a +brother Mat." Eh, they were desperate words for a man to +write; but I do not doubt that he meant them.'</p> + +<p>'Did he mention his wife and children?'</p> + +<p>'No, never a word of them. I wrote to him more than +once, but he never answered me. He was such a long way off, +you see; they send them to Dartmoor now. As far as I know, +Mat may be dead and buried. Well, it is hard lines, and I +have known a peck of troubles in my time. There, you know +it all, Miss Ross; it beats me why I've told you, for no one in +the world knows it but Prissy—you have drawn it out of me +somehow; you've got a hearty way with you that reminds me +of my Susan, and I never had but that one secret from her—when +I sent Mat the two five-pound notes.'</p> + +<p>'Your story is safe with me, my dear old friend,' returned +Audrey, laying her hand on his arm; 'you must never regret +telling me. I have heard so many sad histories—people always +tell me their troubles; they know they can trust me. I am +fond of talking,' went on Audrey, in her earnest way, 'but I +have never betrayed a person's confidence; I have never once +repeated anything that my friends have told me—their troubles +are as sacred to me as my own would be.'</p> + +<p>'I am bound to believe you,' returned Mr. O'Brien, looking +thoughtfully at the girlish face and steadfast eyes; 'Prissy says +it always gives her a comfortable feeling to talk out her troubles +to you. It is a gift, I am thinking; but you are young to have +it. Did I ever tell you, Miss Ross, what Susan said to me +when she was dying?'</p> + +<p>'No, I am sure you never told me that.'</p> + +<p>'Well, Prissy had gone to lie down, and I was alone with +Susan. It was the room above us where she died. I was +sitting by the fire, thinking she was having a fine sleep, and +would surely be better for it, when she suddenly spoke my name: +"Tom," she said, "I know just what you are thinking about: +you have got Mat in your mind." Well, I could not deny that, +and Susan was always so sharp in finding me out; and then +she begged me to sit by her a bit: "For you are very low about +everything, dear Tom," she went on; "you've got to lose me, +and there's Prissy, poor girl! with her bad husband; and when +you have nothing better to do you think about Mat. Sometimes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">{90}</a></span> +I wish you were back in the shop, when I see you looking at +the fire in that way."</p> + +<p>"I was only wondering whether I should ever see the poor +lad again," I returned, with a sigh; "that was all my thought, +Susan."</p> + +<p>"I am sure you will see him again," she replied very +earnestly, with a kind of solemnity in her voice; "I don't +know why I think so, Tom, but they say the dying are very +clear-sighted, and it is strong upon me that Mat will one day +seek you out." Now, wasn't that strange, Miss Ross?'</p> + +<p>'No,' replied Audrey, 'she may have spoken the truth; +while there is life there is hope. Do not be disheartened, my +dear friend; you have had great troubles, but God has helped +you to bear them, and you are not without your blessings.'</p> + +<p>'That's true,' he returned, looking round him; 'I would +sooner live in this cottage than in a palace. I don't believe, +as the Captain says, there is a prettier place anywhere. I like +to think Susan lies so near me, in Brail Churchyard, and that +by and by I'll lie beside her; and if I could only see my girl +more cheerful——'</p> + +<p>'Oh, you must give her time to live down her worries. +There! I hear the carriage;' and Audrey went in search of her +fur-lined cloak.</p> + +<p>This conversation had taken place about eighteen months +ago, and though Audrey had never alluded to it of her own +accord, it touched her greatly to notice how, when he was alone +with her, Mr. O'Brien would drop a few words which showed +how clearly he remembered it.</p> + +<p>'There is no one else to whom I can speak of Mat,' he said +one day; 'Prissy never cared much about him—I think she +dislikes the subject; as sure as ever I mention Mat she cries +and begins to talk of Joe.'</p> + +<p>Audrey was not at all surprised when Mr. O'Brien made +that allusion as she was stroking the tortoise-shell cat in the +sunshine. She could hear Mrs. Baxter laying the tea-things in +the other parlour, where they generally sat, and the smell of +the hot cakes and fragrant new bread reached them. The +cuckoo's note was distinctly audible in the distance; a brown +bee had buried himself in the calyx of one of the lilies; and +some white butterflies were skimming over the flower-beds. +The sweet stillness of the summer afternoon seemed to lull her +into a reverie; how impossible it was to realise sin and sorrow +and broken hearts and the great hungry needs of humanity,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">{91}</a></span> +when the sky was so blue and cloudless, and the insects were +humming in the fulness of their tiny joy! 'Will sorrow ever +come to me?' thought the girl dreamily; 'of course, I know it +must some day; but it seems so strange to think of a time when +I shall be no longer young and strong and full of joy.' And +then a wave of pity swept over her soft heart as she noticed +the wrinkles in her old friend's face. 'I wish Mrs. Baxter were +more cheerful,' she said inwardly; 'she has depressed him, and +he has been missing me all these weeks.'</p> + +<p>Audrey tried to be very good to him as they sat together for +the next half-hour. She told him the Rutherford news, and +then asked him all manner of questions. Audrey was a hypocrite +in her innocent fashion; she could not really have been so +anxious to know how the strawberries and peas were doing in +the little kitchen garden behind the cottage, and if the speckled +hen were sitting, or if Hannah, the new girl, were likely to +satisfy Mrs. Baxter. And yet all these questions were put, as +though everything depended on the answers. 'For you know, +Mr. O'Brien,' she went on very seriously, 'Ralph declares that +we shall have very little fruit this season—those tiresome winds +have stripped the apple-trees—and for some reason or other we +have never had such a poor show of gooseberries.'</p> + +<p>'The potatoes are doing finely, though,' returned Mr. O'Brien, +who had risen to the bait; 'after tea I hope you will walk +round the garden with me, ma'am, and you will be surprised to +see the way some of the things have improved.'</p> + +<p>'Tea is ready, father,' observed Mrs. Baxter at this point. +'Miss Ross, will you take that chair by the window? you will +feel the air there. I am going to ask a blessing, father: "For +what we are going to receive the Lord make us truly thankful." +Yes, Miss Ross, those are your favourite scones, and Hannah +is baking some more; there's plum preserve and lemon marmalade +and home-made seed-cake.' And Mrs. Baxter pressed one +viand after another upon her guest, before she could turn her +attention to the teapot, which was at present enveloped in a +huge braided cosy.</p> + +<p>'Dear me! I shall never be able to eat my dinner, Mrs. +Baxter, and then mother will be miserable; you have no idea +the fuss she makes if I ever say I am not hungry.'</p> + +<p>'She is perfectly right, Miss Ross,' was the mournful answer; +'there is no blessing to equal good health, and health mainly +depends on appetite. Where would father and I have been if +we had not kept our health? It is a wonderful blessing, is it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">{92}</a></span> +not, father, that I have been so strong? or I should have sunk +long ago. But, as poor dear mother used to say, there is no +blessing like a good constitution.'</p> + +<p>Everyone has his or her style of conversation, just as all +authors have their own peculiar style of writing. Mrs. Baxter, +for example, delighted in iteration; she had a habit of taking +a particular word and working it to death. Michael was the +first person to notice this little peculiarity. After his first visit +to Vineyard Cottage, as he was driving Audrey home in the +dog-cart, he said to her:</p> + +<p>'Did you notice how often Mrs. Baxter used the same word? +I am sure she said "trouble" fifty times, if she said it once. +She is not a bad-looking young woman, but she is a painfully +monotonous talker. I should say she is totally devoid of +originality.'</p> + +<p>'I know nothing about health, Mrs. Baxter,' returned Audrey +with aggressive cheerfulness. 'I am always so well, you see. I +never had the doctor in my life, except when I had the measles.'</p> + +<p>'And the whooping-cough, Miss Ross. Don't say you have +not had the whooping-cough!'</p> + +<p>'Oh yes; when I was a baby. But I hope you do not +expect me to remember that.'</p> + +<p>'I am glad to hear it, I am sure, for you gave me quite a +turn. There is nothing worse than having the whooping-cough +late in life—it is quite ruinous to the constitution. You know +that, don't you, father?—for great-aunt Saunders never got rid +of it winter and summer. She had a good constitution, too; +never ailed much, and brought up a large family—though most +of them died before her: they had not her constitution, had +they, father? Great-aunt Saunders was a stout-built sort of +woman; but with all her good constitution and regular living +she never got rid of the whooping-cough.'</p> + +<p>'Shall I give you a slice of this excellent cake?' asked +Audrey politely, and with a laudable desire to hear no more of +great-aunt Saunders' good constitution, and, to change the +subject, she begged for a recipe of the seed-cake for her mother.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Baxter looked almost happy as she gave it. She was +an excellent cook, and her light hand for cakes and pastry, her +delicious scones and crisp short-cake, must have been remembered +with regret by the recusant Joe, and may have had something +to do with his anxious claims. Mrs. Baxter forgot her beloved +iteration; her monotonous voice roused into positive animation +as she verbally weighed out quantities.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">{93}</a></span></p> + +<p>'A great deal depends on the oven, Miss Ross, as I tell +Hannah. Many and many a well-mixed cake has been spoiled +by the baking; you may use the best of materials, but if the +oven is over-hot——' and so on, to all of which Audrey +listened with that pleased air of intelligent interest which once +made Michael call her 'the most consummate little hypocrite +on the face of the earth.'</p> + +<p>'For you were not a bit interested in listening to old Dr. +Sullivan's account of those beetles,' he said on that occasion. +'You know nothing about beetles, Audrey. I saw you once +yawning behind your hand—which was positively rude—and +yet there you were making big eyes at the dear old man, and +hanging on his words as though they were diamonds and +pearls.'</p> + +<p>'You are too hard on me, Michael,' returned Audrey, who +was a little hurt at this accusation. She rarely quarrelled +with Michael, but now and then his keen man's wit was too +much for her. 'I was very much interested in what Dr. +Sullivan was saying, although I certainly do not understand the +habits of beetles, any more than I understand the Greek literature +about which you are pleased to talk to me,' in a pointed +tone. 'And if I yawned'—speaking still in an injured voice—'it +was because I had been up half the night with poor little +Patience Atkinson—and I don't like you to call me a hypocrite, +when I only meant to be kind,' finished Audrey, defending herself +bravely in spite of an inward qualm that told her that perhaps +Michael was right.</p> + +<p>Michael looked at her with one of his rare smiles; he saw +the girl was a little sore.</p> + +<p>'My dear,' he said, taking her hand, 'don't be vexed with +me. You know we always speak the truth to each other. +You must not mind my little joke. After all, your friends love +you the better for your innocent hypocrisy. We all pretend a +little; conventionality demands it. Which of us would have +the courage to say to any man, "My good friend, do hold your +tongue—you are simply boring me with these everlasting +stories"?'</p> + +<p>'But, Michael,' persisted Audrey, for she wanted to make +this thing very clear to herself as well as to him, 'I think you +are wrong in one thing: I am really very seldom bored, as you +call it. Even if I do not understand things—if they are not +particularly interesting—it pleases me to listen to people. Old +Dr. Sullivan did look so happy with that row of nasty little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">{94}</a></span> +beetles before him, that I was quite pleased to watch him. +You know people always talk so well on a subject that +interests them.'</p> + +<p>'I know one thing—that there are very few people in the +world so amiable as a certain young lady of my acquaintance. +The world would be a better place to live in if there were more +like her——' But here he checked himself, for he had long +ago learnt the useful lesson that speech is silvern and silence is +golden, and that over-much praise seldom benefited anyone.</p> + +<p>When tea was over, Audrey accompanied Mr. O'Brien round +his small domain, while he proudly commented on the flourishing +state of his fruit and vegetables. Before she left the +cottage she contrived to exchange a few words with Mrs. +Baxter, who had remained in the house, and whom she found +in the tiny kitchen washing up the best cups and saucers.</p> + +<p>'Girls are mostly careless, Miss Ross,' she explained in an +apologetic manner; 'and Hannah is no better than the rest, so +I always wash up mother's china myself. It would worry me +more than I am already if a cup were to be broken.'</p> + +<p>'I am so sorry to hear your husband has been troubling you +again, Mrs. Baxter.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, indeed, Miss Ross, and it is a crying shame for Joe to +persecute me as he does. Sometimes I feel I must just run +away and hide myself, his visits put me into such a nervous +state. It is so bad for father, too. He is not as young as he +used to be, and since mother's death there has been a great +change in him. Last time Joe came he put himself out terribly, +and was for taking the stick to him. I was all in a tremble—I +was indeed, Miss Ross—for Joe had been drinking, and +father's a powerful man, and there might have been mischief.'</p> + +<p>'I think your husband must be made to understand that he +is to leave you alone.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, you don't know what men are, Miss Ross. They are +over-fond of their own way. Joe does not find things comfortable +without me, and then he is always so greedy for money. +The ways of Providence are very dark and mysterious. When +I married Joe I expected as much happiness as other women. +He was so pleasant-spoken, had such a way with him, that even +father and mother were deceived in him; he never took anything +but his tankard of home-brewed ale at our place, and he +was so trim and so well set up that all the girls were envying +me. But the day I wore my gray silk dress to go with him +to church was the most unfortunate day of my life. Mother<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">{95}</a></span> +would far better have laid me in my shroud,' finished Mrs. +Baxter, with a homely tragedy that was impressive enough in +its way.</p> + +<p>'Oh, you must not say that,' returned Audrey hastily. +'Life will not always be so hard, I hope;' and then she shook +hands with the poor woman.</p> + +<p>Audrey enjoyed her walk back. It was a delicious evening, +and the birds were singing from every brake and hedgerow. +Once or twice she heard the harsh call of the corncrake mingled +with the flute-like notes of the thrush; a lark was carolling +high up in the blue sky—by and by she heard him descend. +Audrey walked swiftly down the long grass lanes, and, as she +neared Rutherford she could see a dim man's figure in the +distance. Of course it was Michael coming to meet her, +attended by his faithful Booty. Audrey smiled and quickened +her pace. She was quite used to these small attentions, this +brotherly surveillance on Michael's part—she was never surprised +to find him at some unexpected point waiting patiently +for her.</p> + +<p>'Am I late?' she asked hastily, as he rose from the stile and +slipped his book in his pocket. 'I have had such a nice afternoon. +They were so pleased to see me, and made so much of +me;' then, with a quick change of tone, 'You have walked too +far to meet me, Michael—you are looking paler than usual this +evening!'</p> + +<p>'Nonsense,' he returned good-humouredly; 'I am all right. +Was Mrs. Baxter as mournful as usual?' To which question +Audrey returned a full explanatory answer.</p> + +<p>Michael listened with his usual interest, but he made few +comments. Perhaps his mind was on other things, for when +she had finished he said somewhat irrelevantly:</p> + +<p>'You are right, Audrey—Mrs. Blake is certainly a very +pretty woman.'</p> + +<p>In a moment Vineyard Cottage, Mr. O'Brien, and the +mournful Priscilla vanished from Audrey's mind.</p> + +<p>'Oh, Michael! have you really seen her?' she asked +breathlessly.</p> + +<p>'Well, I am not sure,' was the somewhat provoking answer. +'You were not there to introduce us, you know, and of course I +could not swear that it was Mrs. Blake.'</p> + +<p>'Dear me, how slow you are, Michael!' for he was speaking +in a drawling manner. 'Why can't you tell me all about it in +a sensible way?'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">{96}</a></span></p> + +<p>'Because there is not much to tell,' he returned calmly. +'I was just passing the Gray Cottage, when a lady in black +came out of the gate. I was so close that I had to draw back +to let her pass, and of course I just lifted my hat; and she +bowed and gave me the sweetest smile—it haunts me now,' +murmured Captain Burnett in a sort of audible aside.</p> + +<p>'A lady in black coming out of the Gray Cottage?—of +course it was Mrs. Blake, you foolish fellow!'</p> + +<p>'You think so?' rather sleepily. 'Well, perhaps you are +right. I certainly heard a window open, and a girl's voice +called out, "Mamma, will you come back a moment? You +have forgotten your sunshade." And the lady in black said, +"Oh, how stupid of me, Mollie!" and then she whisked +through the gate again.'</p> + +<p>'Did you stand still in the middle of the road to hear all +this, Michael?'</p> + +<p>'No, my dear. There was something wrong with the lock +of the school-house gate. It is sometimes a little difficult—I +must tell Sayers it wants oiling.' Michael's face was inimitable +as he made this remark.</p> + +<p>'And so you saw her come out again. Oh, you deep, good-for-nothing +Michael!'</p> + +<p>'I saw her come out again, and she had the sunshade. +She walks well, Audrey, and she has a pretty, graceful figure—and +as for her face——'</p> + +<p>'Well!' impatiently.</p> + +<p>'I think I will keep that to myself,' he replied with a wicked +smile. 'Do you fancy we could coax Cousin Emmeline to call +soon? I begin to feel anxious to enlarge my stock of acquaintance, +and you must allow that a bewitching widow is rather +alluring——' He paused.</p> + +<p>'Michael,' giving his arm a little jerk, 'a joke is a joke; +but, mind, I will not have you falling in love with Mrs. Blake. +Dear me! what would Gage say?'</p> + +<p>And at this Michael laughed, and Audrey laughed too—though +just for the moment she did feel a wee bit uncomfortable, +for even the notion of Michael falling in love with any woman +was not quite pleasant.</p> + +<p>'Really, Michael, we must walk faster,' she said, recovering +herself, 'or I shall not have time to dress for dinner.' And +then they both quickened their footsteps, and no more nonsense +was talked about the fascinating Mrs. Blake.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">{97}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<h3>'A GIRL AFTER MY OWN HEART'</h3> + +<table summary="quotation"> +<tr><td> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse">'Be to their virtues very kind,</div> +<div class="verse">Be to their faults a little blind,</div> +<div class="verse">And put a padlock on the mind.'</div> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<div class="sign"><span class="smcap">Anon.</span></div> +</div> +</td></tr> +</table> + + +<p>'I will go to the Gray Cottage this afternoon,' was Audrey's +first thought the next morning when she woke; but she kept +this intention to herself when Geraldine came in, after breakfast, +to beg for some favourite recipes of her mother's that she had +lost or mislaid. 'And if you have nothing better to do,' she +said, turning to Audrey, who was filling the flower-vases, 'I +shall be very glad of your company this afternoon, as Percival +is going up to London.'</p> + +<p>'Shall you be alone, Gage? I mean, are you expecting any +special visitor?'</p> + +<p>'Well, old Mrs. Drayton is driving over to luncheon with +that deaf niece of hers; but they will go away early—they +always do. Come up later, Audrey, and bring your work; and +perhaps Michael will fetch you—it is so long since we have +seen him. I will not ask you both to stay to dinner, as +Percival is always a little tired after a journey to London, and +a <i>tête-à-tête</i> dinner will suit him better; but we could have a +long afternoon—you know you refused me yesterday because of +the O'Briens.'</p> + +<p>'I will come up to tea, Gage,' interrupted Audrey somewhat +hastily; 'I would rather avoid Miss Drayton, and Miss +Montague is simply terrible. You may expect me about half-past +four, and I will give Michael your message.'</p> + +<p>And Audrey carried off her vase to avoid any more +necessary questioning. Gage seemed always wanting her now; +was it all sisterly affection, Audrey wondered, or a clever +device to counteract the Blake influence?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">{98}</a></span></p> + +<p>'By the bye, mother,' observed Mrs. Harcourt carelessly, as +she gathered up sundry papers, 'I suppose you will soon be +leaving your card on Mrs. Blake? Percival thought I had +better call with you, and if you are disengaged next Tuesday or +Wednesday——'</p> + +<p>'Why, that is a week hence, my love!'</p> + +<p>'Yes, mother dear, I know; but I have so many engagements +just now that I am obliged to make my plans beforehand. +Besides, we could not very well call before—you know what a +muddle they were in.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, I remember; and Audrey helped them so nicely to +get straight. Very well, we will say Tuesday; and I really +am very much obliged to Percival for his suggestion, for after +all this talk, and the things Edith Bryce told you yesterday, I +shall be quite nervous in calling alone.' But here a significant +look from her daughter checked her, and she changed the +subject rather awkwardly.</p> + +<p>'So dear Edith has been talking again,' thought Audrey, as +she stepped out on the terrace with her empty basket; 'I +almost wish I had been at Hillside yesterday, and heard things +with my own ears.' And then she stopped to cut off a dark +crimson rose that grew under the schoolroom window, and as +she did so she became aware that Mr. Blake had put down his +book and was watching her. She gave him a smile and a nod, +and walked to the other end of the garden.</p> + +<p>'I always forget the schoolroom window,' she said to herself, +with a slight blush, as she recalled that fixed look; 'Mr. +Ollier generally sat with his back to the window and took no +notice—he was as blind as a bat, too—but Mr. Blake is very +observant.'</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ross had arranged to drive into Dulverton after +luncheon with her husband. When Audrey had seen them off, +and had exchanged a parting joke with her father, she started +off for the Gray Cottage. Things had arranged themselves +admirably: she had two hours before Geraldine would expect +her. Michael had consented to fetch her—Kester was coming +to him early in the afternoon, and he had also promised to take +a class for Dr. Ross; he would put in an appearance about +half-past five. And Audrey professed herself satisfied with +this arrangement.</p> + +<p>Audrey met Kester on her way to the Cottage. The poor +boy was dragging himself along rather painfully on his crutches; +the heat tried him, he said, but he seemed bright and cheerful.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">{99}</a></span> +Audrey looked pitifully at his shabby jacket and old boots; +she noticed, too, the frayed edges of his wristbands. 'Is it +poverty or bad management?' she thought; and then she +asked Kester how he liked his new tutor. The boy flushed +up in a moment.</p> + +<p>'Awfully—I like him awfully, Miss Ross, and so does Cyril. +You have no idea of the trouble he takes with me; I know +nothing of mathematics, but I mean to learn. Why,' went on +Kester, with an important air, 'I am so busy now, working up +for Cyril and Captain Burnett, that I can hardly find time for +Mollie's sums and Latin.'</p> + +<p>Evidently Kester did not wish to be pitied for his additional +labours.</p> + +<p>'Poor fellow, how happy he looks!' Audrey said to herself, +as she went on. 'Michael is doing good work there.' But +somehow she could not forget those frayed wristbands all the +remainder of the day; there was a button off his jacket, too—she +had noticed the unsightly gap. 'I wish Mrs. Blake had a +little more method,' she thought; 'Mollie and Kester are +certainly rather neglected. How could poor Mollie go to chapel +in that frock?'</p> + +<p>Audrey let herself in at the green gate; but this time there +was no Mollie on the threshold. She rang, and Biddy came +hobbling out of the kitchen.</p> + +<p>'The mistress is in there,' she said, with a jerk of her head +towards the dining-room, and then she threw open the door. +'Here's Miss Ross, mistress,' she said unceremoniously.</p> + +<p>Biddy was evidently unaccustomed to parlour work. +Mollie, who was sewing in the window beside her mother, +threw down her work with a delighted exclamation, and Zack +gave a bark of recognition. Mrs. Blake welcomed her very +cordially.</p> + +<p>'My dear Miss Ross,' she said in her soft, pretty voice, 'we +thought you had quite forsaken us; poor Mollie has been as +restless as possible. I cannot tell you how pleased I am to see +you again; I was half afraid you had disappeared altogether, +after the fashion of a benevolent brownie.'</p> + +<p>'I have so many friends,' began Audrey; but Mrs. Blake +interrupted her:</p> + +<p>'There, I told you so, Mollie. I said to this foolish child, +when she was bemoaning your absence, "You may take my word +for it, Mollie, Miss Ross has a large circle of friends and +acquaintances—it is only to be expected in her position—and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">{100}</a></span> +of course we must not monopolise her; especially as we are new-comers +and comparative strangers."'</p> + +<p>'Mollie thinks differently—don't you, Mollie? We are quite +old friends, are we not?' and Audrey gave her a kind glance.</p> + +<p>How flushed and tired the poor child was looking! but she +brightened up in a moment.</p> + +<p>'Of course we are not strangers,' she returned, quite +indignantly; 'mamma is only saying that because she wishes +you to contradict her. Oh, Miss Ross,' nestling up to her, 'I +have so wanted to see you—I have looked out for you every +day!'</p> + +<p>'I could not possibly come before, dear.'</p> + +<p>'No—but now you will stay for a long time? Mamma, +won't you ask Miss Ross to stay to tea? and Biddy will bake +some scones. Biddy will do anything for Miss Ross; she said +so the other day.'</p> + +<p>'My dear child, I could not possibly stay; I am going to +have tea with my sister—she lives in one of the Hill houses. +Another time, Mollie,' as a cloud of disappointment passed over +Mollie's face; and to divert her thoughts she took up the work: +'Why, what pretty stuff! is this for your new frock?'</p> + +<p>Mollie's brow cleared like magic.</p> + +<p>'Yes; is it not lovely? Cyril chose it; he bought it for my +last birthday, only mamma was too busy to make it up. But +both my frocks will be done to-night—mamma says she will not +go to bed until they are finished.'</p> + +<p>'Well, and I mean to keep my word,' returned Mrs. Blake +good-humouredly; 'and your new hat will be trimmed, too, and +then Cyril will not grumble any more about his sister's +shabbiness. I have been working like a slave ever since I got +up this morning, and yet this naughty child pretended she was +tired because I wanted her to stitch the sleeves.'</p> + +<p>'But, mamma, I had to iron all those handkerchiefs for +Biddy.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, I know—and it was terribly hot in the kitchen; she +does look tired, does she not, Miss Ross? I have a good idea, +Mollie: put down that sleeve, and I will finish it myself in a +twinkling, and fetch your hat and go down to the cricket-field +and bring Cyril back with you to tea—it will be a nice walk +for you.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, mamma!' protested Mollie; 'I would so much rather +stay here with you and Miss Ross, and I don't care about the +walk.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">{101}</a></span></p> + +<p>'But if I wish you to go;' and there was a certain inflection +in Mrs. Blake's soft voice which evidently obliged poor Mollie +to obey. She rose reluctantly, but there were tears of vexation +in her eyes. Audrey felt grieved for her favourite, but she was +unwilling to interfere; she only took the girl's hand and detained +her a moment.</p> + +<p>'Mrs. Blake, could you spare Mollie to me to-morrow +afternoon? I want to show her our garden—it is looking so +lovely just now.'</p> + +<p>'You are very kind,' hesitating slightly; 'but are you sure +that it will be convenient to Mrs. Ross?'</p> + +<p>'My mother has nothing to do with it—Mollie will be my +visitor,' returned Audrey quietly; and then she continued +diplomatically: 'I know my mother intends to call on you next +week, Mrs. Blake; she and my sister were planning it this +morning—they are only waiting until you are settled.'</p> + +<p>Evidently Mrs. Blake was much pleased with this piece of +intelligence; she coloured slightly, and her manner became more +animated.</p> + +<p>'That is very kind; I do so long to see Mrs. Ross: Cyril is +charmed with her, and he thinks Mrs. Harcourt wonderfully +handsome. Oh yes, I can easily spare Mollie; and her frock +and hat will be all ready. Now off with you, child,' with +laughing peremptoriness; and Mollie only paused to kiss her +friend and whisper that she was quite happy now, as she would +have her all to herself the next day.</p> + +<p>'Mollie has got to a difficult age,' observed Mrs. Blake, +stitching rapidly as she spoke; and Audrey again admired the +lovely profile and finely shaped head; 'she is getting a little self-willed +and wants her own way. And then she is such a +chatterbox; she will hardly let me get in a word. Sometimes +I like to have my friends to myself; you can understand that, +Miss Ross?'</p> + +<p>'Oh yes, that is easily understood,' returned Audrey, who +nevertheless missed Mollie.</p> + +<p>'I thought I could talk to you more easily without her this +afternoon; I wanted to speak to you about your cousin—Captain +Burnett is your cousin, is he not?'</p> + +<p>'He is my father's cousin.'</p> + +<p>'Ah, well, that is much the same. Is he a pale, slight-looking +man with a reddish-brown moustache?'</p> + +<p>'Certainly that description suits Michael. I think he has +such a nice face, Mrs. Blake.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">{102}</a></span></p> + +<p>'I daresay; he is not handsome, but he looks like a soldier. +What keen, bright eyes he has! The children have talked +about him so much that I was quite curious to see him.'</p> + +<p>'It is certain that you have seen him; no one else in +Rutherford answers to that description. It is odd how everyone +makes that remark about Michael's eyes.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, they are a little too searching. I have plenty of +courage, but I am disposed to feel afraid of Captain Burnett. +What I wanted to say, Miss Ross, is this—that I am truly +grateful to your cousin for his kind interest in my poor boy.'</p> + +<p>'Do you mean this as a message?'</p> + +<p>'That is just as you think proper; but in my opinion he +ought to know how much Kester's mother appreciates his +kindness. When I first heard of the plan, I will confess to you +honestly, Miss Ross, I was a little bit alarmed. Kester did not +explain things properly—he would have it that Captain Burnett +meant to give him lessons here, and I told Cyril that would +never do. Cyril was a trifle bothered about it himself, until +he had a talk with Captain Burnett and found out that Kester +was to go to Woodcote.'</p> + +<p>'Oh yes, of course; Michael intended that all along.'</p> + +<p>'True, and I ought not to have flurried myself. But if you +only knew what I went through at Headingly, and the unkind +things that people said of me! A burnt child dreads the fire, +and I was determined that no one should have an opportunity +of speaking against me at Rutherford. What a hard world it is, +Miss Ross! Just because I am—well'—with a little laugh—'what +you call good-looking—why should I deny the truth? +I am sure I care little about my looks except for Cyril's sake; +but just because I am not plain, people take advantage of my +unprotected position. Oh, the things that were said!' with a +quick frown of annoyance at the recollection. 'I daresay some +of them have reached your ears. Haven't you heard, for +example, that I tried to set my cap at Dr. Forester, only his +daughter grew alarmed and insulted me so grossly that I vowed +never to speak to him again? Have you not heard that, Miss +Ross?'</p> + +<p>Audrey was obliged to confess that something of this story +had reached her.</p> + +<p>'But I did not believe it, Mrs. Blake, and I do not believe +it now,' she continued hastily.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Blake's eyes filled with indignant tears.</p> + +<p>'It was not true—not a word of it!' she returned in a low<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">{103}</a></span> +vehement voice. 'You may ask Cyril. Oh, how angry he was +when the report reached him! He came home and took me in +his arms and said we should not stay there—no one should talk +against his mother. They did say such horrid things against +me, Miss Ross; and yet how could I help Dr. Forester calling +on me sometimes? He was never invited—no one asked him +to repeat his visits. Mollie will tell you I was barely civil to +him. I suppose he admired me, that is the truth; and his +daughter knew it, and it made her bitter. Well, after that, I +declared that nothing would induce me to receive gentlemen +again, unless they were Cyril's friends and he brought them +himself.'</p> + +<p>Audrey was silent. She had been very angry when Geraldine +had told her the story. She had declared it was a pure fabrication—a +piece of village gossip.</p> + +<p>'Besides, if it were true,' she had continued, 'where is the +harm of a wealthy widower, with one daughter, falling in love +with a good-looking widow? And yet Edith Bryce seems to +hint darkly at some misconduct on Mrs. Blake's part.'</p> + +<p>'You are putting it too strongly, dear,' replied her sister. +'Edith only said she considered Mrs. Blake rather flippant in +manner, and a little too gracious to gentlemen——' but Audrey +had refused to hear more.</p> + +<p>'I was utterly wretched at Headingly,' went on Mrs. Blake, +in her sweet, plaintive voice; 'and Cyril grew to hate it at last—for +my sake. He says he is sure it will be different here, +and that people are so much nicer. I believe he thinks you +angelic, Miss Ross, and your mother only a degree less so. +Only last night he said to me, as we were walking up and down +in the moonlight, "I am certain you will be happy at Rutherford, +mother. You have one nice friend already, and——" +But, there, I had better not repeat my boy's words.'</p> + +<p>Audrey felt anxious to change the subject.</p> + +<p>'Where did you live before you went to Headingly?' she +asked abruptly, and Mrs. Blake was clever enough to take her cue.</p> + +<p>'We were in lodgings in Richmond,' she answered readily. +'You know we were poor, and I was straining every nerve to +keep Cyril at Oxford. I had been saving up every year for it, +but I cannot deny we were sadly pinched. I had to send Biddy +home for a year or two, and Mollie and Kester and I lived in +three little rooms, in such a dull street. Cyril generally got a +holiday engagement for the summer, but when he joined us—I +procured him a bedroom near us—it used to make him very<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">{104}</a></span> +unhappy to see the way we lived. But I always comforted +him by reminding him that one day he would make a home +for us, and that cheered him up.'</p> + +<p>'You were certainly very good to him. Some mothers would +not have done half so much,' observed Audrey.</p> + +<p>She was repaid for this little speech, as a smile, almost +infantile in its sweetness, came to Mrs. Blake's lip.</p> + +<p>'I wish Cyril could hear you say that. But he knows—he +feels—I have done my best for him. Yes, my darling, I have +indeed!' She clasped her hands and sighed. 'What did a +little extra work, a few sacrifices, matter, when one looked to +the future? We were very straitened—the poor children did +not always have what they needed—but I don't think we were, +any of us, unhappy.'</p> + +<p>'I can so well understand that. I think people are too +much afraid of being poor. I could never see, myself, why +poverty should hinder happiness.'</p> + +<p>'Do you not?' looking at her a little curiously; 'but you +have not served my apprenticeship. You do not know how +hard it is for a pleasure-loving nature to be deprived of so many +sources of enjoyment—to have to stint one's taste for pretty +things—to be perpetually saying "no" to one's self.'</p> + +<p>'And yet you own that you were happy.'</p> + +<p>'Well, yes, after a fashion. I think the poor children were, +until Kester got so ill. Mollie and I used to walk about Richmond +Park and build castles in the air. We planned what we +would do if we were rich, and sometimes we would amuse +ourselves by looking into the shop-windows and thinking what +we should like to buy—like a couple of gutter children—and +sometimes, on a winter's evening, we would blow out the candles +and sit round the fire and tell stories.'</p> + +<p>'And then you say Kester fell ill?'</p> + +<p>'Well, it was not exactly an illness. But he seemed to +dwindle and pine, somehow, and Cyril and I got dreadfully +anxious about him. I don't think Richmond suited him, and +I could not give him the comforts he needed; and he fretted so +about his want of education. He seemed to get better directly +we went to Headingly and Cyril began to give him lessons.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, I see;' and then Audrey took advantage of the pause +to look at her watch. It was later than she thought, and she +rose reluctantly to go. Mrs. Blake rose too.</p> + +<p>'Don't you think me an odd, unconventional sort of person +to tell you all this?' she asked a little abruptly. 'Do you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">{105}</a></span> +know, Cyril often says that I make him very anxious, because +I am so dreadfully impulsive and speak out everything I think; +but I made up my mind that afternoon when Cyril told me that +Mrs. Bryce was a connection of your sister's that I would talk +to you about the Headingly worries on the first opportunity.'</p> + +<p>'I am very glad you have spoken to me; I think it was very +brave of you.'</p> + +<p>'No, my dear Miss Ross, not brave, but cowardly. I was +so afraid you would be prejudiced against me; and you must +know that I have taken a great fancy to you. I am a very +strange creature: I always like or dislike a person at first +sight, and I never—perhaps I should say I scarcely ever—change +my opinion.'</p> + +<p>'I think that is a great mistake. It is impossible to read +some people at first sight.'</p> + +<p>'Perhaps so; but you were distinctly legible. When I +looked out of my window and saw you setting out the little tea-table +on the lawn with Mollie, I said to myself, "That is a girl +after my own heart."'</p> + +<p>Audrey laughed; but the little compliment pleased her. +Somehow Mrs. Blake's manner made everything she said seem +charming. Audrey felt more and more drawn to this fascinating +woman.</p> + +<p>'And I want you to come very often, and to be my friend +as well as Mollie's,' with soft insistence.</p> + +<p>'Yes; yours and Mollie's and Kester's,' replied Audrey in +an amused voice.</p> + +<p>'And not Cyril's? My dear Miss Ross, I hope you do not +mean to exclude Cyril.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, of course not,' rather hurriedly. 'But, Mrs. Blake, you +must really let me go, or Geraldine will be waiting tea; as it +is, I shall have to walk very fast, to make up for lost time.'</p> + +<p>Audrey's thoughts were very busy as she walked swiftly up +the Hill.</p> + +<p>'I like her—I like her exceedingly,' she said to herself; 'I +have never met a more interesting person: she is so naïve and +winning in her manner. I feel I shall soon love her; and yet +all the time I see her faults so plainly. She is terribly unpractical, +and manages as badly as possible. Edith Bryce was +right when she said that. And she is foolish with regard to +her eldest son—no mother ought to be so partial. I am afraid +Kester must feel it; all his interests are secondary to his brother's. +It is hardly fair. And Mollie, too—the child seems a perfect<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">{106}</a></span> +drudge. No, my dear woman, I admire you more than I can +say, and I know I shall very soon get fond of you; but you are +not blameless.'</p> + +<p>And then a curious doubt crept into Audrey's mind: with +all her impulsiveness, was not Mrs. Blake rather a clever woman, +to tell that Forester story in her own way? Audrey had already +heard a very different version. She knew Agatha Forester had +lived in deadly terror of the charming widow. It was true that +she had declined to believe the story, and that her sympathies +were enlisted on Mrs. Blake's side; but, still, was it not rather +a clever stratagem on Mrs. Blake's part to secure her as an ally? +But Audrey dismissed this thought as quickly as it passed +through her mind.</p> + +<p>'Why, what nonsense!' she argued. 'I am accusing Mrs. +Blake of being a little deep, when she herself owned frankly +that she was anxious to prejudice me in her favour. Of course +she knew Edith Bryce would talk to Gage, and it was only wise +of her to tell me the truth. People must have treated her very +badly at Headingly, or her son would not have taken her part. +He seems to have plenty of common-sense, although he dotes +on her. They are a wonderfully interesting family, and I seem +to know them all so well already.' And this last reflection +brought her to Hillside.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">{107}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<h3>MOLLIE GOES TO DEEP-WATER CHINE</h3> + +<table summary="quotation"> +<tr><td> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse">'Well I know what they feel.</div> +<div class="verse">They gaze, and the evening wind</div> +<div class="verse">Plays on their faces; they gaze—</div> +<div class="verse">Airs from the Eden of youth</div> +<div class="verse">Awake and stir in their soul.'</div> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<div class="sign"><span class="smcap">Matthew Arnold.</span></div> +</div> +</td></tr> +</table> + + +<p>Mollie arrived very punctually the next afternoon. Audrey, +who was watching for her, hardly recognised the girl as she +came slowly along the terrace. She wore a pretty gray stuff +frock and a straw hat, trimmed very tastefully with the simplest +materials; and her usually unkempt locks were neatly arranged +in a broad glossy plait that reached to her waist.</p> + +<p>Audrey felt quite proud of her appearance, and took her into +the drawing-room to see her mother and sister; for Geraldine +had just dropped in on her way down the town. Mrs. Ross +received her very nicely; but Geraldine took very little notice +of her. Mollie was rather shy and awkward, and answered all +Mrs. Ross's questions in monosyllables. She seemed so hot and +confused that Mrs. Ross's motherly heart took compassion on +her.</p> + +<p>'Do not let us keep you, my dear,' she said, addressing +Audrey. 'I am sure Geraldine will excuse you; and it is far +too fine to stay indoors.'</p> + +<p>'In that case, we will go, Mollie,' returned Audrey in a +relieved tone. 'Good-bye, Gage; I daresay I shall see you +to-morrow. And, mother, let me know when tea is ready;' +and then she beckoned Mollie to follow her.</p> + +<p>Mollie was no longer silent when she found herself alone +with her friend.</p> + +<p>'Oh dear, Miss Ross, what a grand house you live in, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">{108}</a></span> +what a lovely garden! Ours must seem such a poor, poky little +place after this, and yet we were all so pleased with it. I do +like Mrs. Ross so; she is such a dear old lady'—Audrey had +never heard her mother called a 'dear old lady' before—'and +what a grand-looking person your sister is! I never saw anyone +so handsome.'</p> + +<p>But Mollie's tone was a trifle dubious.</p> + +<p>'I hope you mean to like her too, Mollie.'</p> + +<p>'I don't seem to know her yet,' replied Mollie evasively; +'but I liked looking at her. Somehow I could not talk before +her. Where are we going, Miss Ross? There is no pond that +I can see.'</p> + +<p>'No lake,' corrected Audrey, with much dignity. 'No, +Mollie; I am going to introduce you to the greenhouses and +poultry-yard first; then there are the pigs, and the boys' play-ground—oh, +a host of sights!—before we make our way down +to the lake.'</p> + +<p>'Ah, now you mean to be funny, because Cyril always calls +it the pond—and Kester too. You must be very rich, Miss +Ross, to live here and have all these fine things. Mamma was +saying so to Cyril when he was telling us about it.'</p> + +<p>'This is my favourite little bantam, Mollie,' interposed +Audrey; and then Mollie gave herself up to enjoyment, there +were so many things to see. Mollie wondered and exclaimed +and admired, with flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes, until +Audrey told herself the child was positively pretty.</p> + +<p>At last they found themselves by the tiny lake, with their +hands full of bread for Snowflake and Eiderdown, while a little +troop of rare foreign ducks hung somewhat timidly in the rear. +Presently, to Mollie's intense delight, they got into the canoe, +and Audrey, with much gravity, commenced their voyage.</p> + +<p>'For you may laugh, Mollie,' she said severely, 'but you +have no idea of the extent of the place. This island is called +"The Swans' Nest." We need not land, because we can see it +perfectly from the canoe; but you may perhaps notice a small +wooden building somewhere in the recesses of the island.'</p> + +<p>'Oh yes, I see it perfectly,' returned Mollie, with the utmost +candour. 'I could almost cover the island with my pocket-handkerchief; +but, of course, it is very pretty.'</p> + +<p>Audrey gave her a withering glance.</p> + +<p>'We will go on a little farther. You have a capital view of +Woodcote now; the house is in fine perspective. There is +Michael's Bench, so called after my cousin, Captain Burnett; and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">{109}</a></span> +this, Mollie'—pointing to a pretty little thicket of trees and +shrubs reaching down to the water—'is Deep-water Chine. +With your permission, we will rest here a moment.'</p> + +<p>'Have we got to the end of our voyage?' laughed Mollie. +'Oh dear, Miss Ross, how droll you are this afternoon! But +it is pretty—sweetly pretty; and how lovely those swans are! +How happy you must be to live in such a dear place!'</p> + +<p>'I am very fond of it,' returned Audrey dreamily. 'Listen +to those birds; father is so fond of them. You cannot admire +the place more than I do, Mollie. To me Woodcote is the finest +place in the world; it would be dreadful to leave it.'</p> + +<p>'Why should you ever leave it, Miss Ross?'</p> + +<p>'Why, indeed?' with an amused curl of her lip. 'I don't +suppose I ever shall leave it, Mollie.'</p> + +<p>'Not unless you married,' replied Mollie, in a serious voice. +'People are obliged to go away when they are married, are they +not? But perhaps you will have as grand a place of your own.'</p> + +<p>'I have half made up my mind that I will be an old maid,' +returned Audrey lazily. 'Old maids lead such nice, useful, +unselfish lives.' And then, as Mollie opened her eyes rather +widely at this, she went on: 'What a pretty frock that is!—and +that smocking is exquisitely done. I really must ask your +mother to give me lessons—for it will be useful if I ever should +have any nephews and nieces,' thought Audrey, who was practical +in her own way.</p> + +<p>'Mamma will be delighted to teach you; she is so fond of +you, Miss Ross. She was talking about you half the evening. +Do you know, she did not go to bed until past one o'clock; she +was finishing my blue cambric. Cyril begged her to put it +down half a dozen times, but she said no, she had made up her +mind to finish it—and the hat, too. He had to go off to bed +and leave her at last, and it was not really done until past one.'</p> + +<p>Audrey made no comment. She was asking herself how far +she ought to encourage Mollie's childish loquacity—she was very +original and amusing.</p> + +<p>'But if I do not check her,' thought Audrey, 'there is no +knowing what she may say next. All the Blakes are so very +outspoken.'</p> + +<p>But Mollie was disposed to enlarge on a topic that interested +her so closely. She had arrived at an age when a girl begins +to feel some anxiety to make the best of herself. Her nice new +frock was an important ingredient in the day's pleasure; she +felt a different Mollie from the Mollie of yesterday. It was as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">{110}</a></span> +though Cinderella, dusty and begrimed with her ashes, had +suddenly donned her princess's robe.</p> + +<p>'I am so glad you think my frock pretty,' she went on. 'I +shall be able to go to chapel with Cyril next Sunday. This is +my Sunday frock; my blue cambric is for every afternoon. It +was very fortunate mamma was in her working mood yesterday, +for she would never have allowed me to come in my old +brown frock. She is so busy to-day; she made me bring her +down a pile of Kester's shirts that want mending—"For the +poor boy is in rags," she said. Stop! I think it was Cyril +who said that. I thought it was funny for mamma to notice +about Kester. Yes, it was Cyril.'</p> + +<p>'Mollie, do you know your mother calls you a sad chatterbox?' +observed Audrey at this point.</p> + +<p>Mollie coloured up and looked perturbed.</p> + +<p>'Oh, Miss Ross, did mamma tell you that really? Perhaps +that was why she wanted to get rid of me yesterday, because I +talk so much. Do you know'—dropping her voice and looking +rather melancholy—'I never do seem to please mamma, +however much I try; and I do try—oh! so hard. I never +mind Cyril laughing at me, because he does it so good-naturedly; +but when mamma speaks in that reproachful voice, +and says that at my age I might help her more, I do feel so +unhappy. I often cry about it when I go to bed, and then +the next day I am sure to be more stupid, and forget things +and make mistakes, and then mamma gets more displeased +with me than ever.'</p> + +<p>'My dear little Mollie, I am sure you work hard enough.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, but there is so much to do,' returned Mollie, with a +heavy sigh. 'Biddy is so old, she cannot make the beds and +sweep and clean and cook the dinner without any help. Kester +is always saying that if we had a younger and stronger servant +we should do so much better. But mamma is so angry when +she hears him say that; she declares nothing will induce her +to part with Biddy—Biddy used to be mamma's nurse, you +know. Sometimes I get so tired of doing the same things day +after day, and I long to go out and play tennis, like other girls. +But that is not the worst'—and here poor Mollie looked ready +to cry; 'do you mind if I tell you, Miss Ross? I seem talking +so much about myself, and I am so afraid of wearying +you.'</p> + +<p>'No, dear; you may tell me anything you like—about yourself, +I mean,' corrected Audrey hastily.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">{111}</a></span></p> + +<p>'Yes, I know what you mean, and it will make me so +comfortable to talk it all out—and I have only Kester, you +know. I am so afraid, and Kester is afraid, too, that with all +this rough work I shall never be as ladylike as mamma. She +has such beautiful manners, and, then, have you noticed her +hands, Miss Ross? they are so white and pretty; and look at +mine!' and Mollie thrust out a brown, roughened little hand +for inspection.</p> + +<p>'You have a pretty hand, too, Mollie, though it is not quite +soft at present; but if I were you, I should be proud to think +that it was hard with good honest work for others.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, if only Cyril would not notice it; he told me one day +that no young lady ought to have hands like a kitchenmaid. +Mamma heard him say it, and she begged me to use glycerine +and sleep in gloves, but I could not do such things. I am +afraid you think me very complaining, Miss Ross, but I have +not got to the worst trouble of all, and that is—that I have +so little time for my lessons.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, I was going to ask you about that.'</p> + +<p>'I fret about it dreadfully sometimes, and then Kester is so +sorry for me. He does all he can for me, poor boy! but +sometimes on a hot afternoon I am too sleepy and stupid to do +my sums and Latin. I don't like sums, Miss Ross, or Latin +either: I would so much rather read French and history with +mamma—she reads so beautifully and teaches so well—but +somehow she is so often too busy or too tired to attend to me.'</p> + +<p>'And who teaches you music?'</p> + +<p>'No one,' and here Mollie's face wore a look of the deepest +dejection; 'we have no piano, and mamma does not play. +When we lived at Richmond the lady in the drawing-room +taught me my notes, and I used to practise scales and exercises +in her room. She was such a funny old dear, with queer little +pinned-up curls. Her name was Miss Foster—she had been a +governess—and she used to be so kind to Kester and me. She +would ask us into her room, and give us cake and nice things; +but I don't think she liked mamma—she was always pitying us +and calling us "poor children;" but I am sure we were very +happy.'</p> + +<p>'And she gave you music-lessons?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, and I got on quite nicely. I am so fond of music, +Miss Ross, and so is Cyril; he sings beautifully, and can play +his own accompaniments. He talks of hiring a piano, and +then perhaps I can practise my scales and exercises.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">{112}</a></span></p> + +<p>Audrey made no answer for a moment—she was deep in +thought—and then she said suddenly:</p> + +<p>'Are you busy all the morning, Mollie? I mean, if you +had a piano, when would you practise?'</p> + +<p>This question seemed to puzzle Mollie.</p> + +<p>'I hardly know, Miss Ross—in the morning, I think, when +I had done helping Biddy. Kester generally wants me for an +hour in the afternoon, and there is the chance, too, that +mamma might call me to read history with her. I daresay +I could get half an hour or so before dinner—luncheon, I +mean.'</p> + +<p>'Would you like to come to me twice a week for a lesson? +Oh, Mollie dear, take care!' for the girl was starting up in +her excitement; 'the water is very deep here, and if you upset +us——'</p> + +<p>'No, no, I will sit quite still; but I did so want to kiss +you—it is such a lovely idea!'</p> + +<p>'I am so glad you approve of it. I tell you what, Mollie, I +will call one afternoon and settle it with your mother. The +morning will suit me best; I generally go out after luncheon, +unless we have a tennis-party at home; but with a little +management I think I could contrive to spare you an hour +twice a week—perhaps an hour and a half,' finished Audrey, +whose busy brain had already suggested that a French exercise +or half an hour's French reading might be thrown in after the +music-lesson.</p> + +<p>Audrey was a good linguist, and played very nicely; it +made her quite happy to think that she could turn her accomplishments +to account. And really the child was so disgracefully +neglected—Audrey did not scruple a bit to use the word +'disgracefully.' It was strange how all her sympathy was +enlisted on Mollie's behalf, and yet she could not like Mrs. +Blake one whit the less for her mismanagement of the girl. +On the contrary, Audrey only felt her interest quicken with +every fresh side-light and detail; she longed to take the Blake +household under her especial protection, to manipulate the +existing arrangements, and put things on a different footing. +Biddy should go—that should be the first innovation; a strong, +sturdy Rutherford girl like Rhoda Atkinson should come in her +place. Poor little Mollie should be set free from all but the +lightest household duties—a little dusting or pastry-making; +she should have regular hours for practising, for reading +French, even for drawing. Geraldine was very good-natured,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">{113}</a></span> +she drew beautifully—Audrey was quite sure that after a time +she might be pressed into the service. Between herself, Gage, +and Kester, Mollie might turn out an accomplished woman. +Dreams, mere dreams, if Mrs. Blake could not be induced to part +with Biddy; and here the thought of the little work-roughened +hands gave Audrey a positive pang.</p> + +<p>Mollie, on the contrary, sat and beamed at her young benefactress. +She was that; she was everything perfect in Mollie's +eyes. Mollie's cup of happiness was full to overflowing! to +see her dear Miss Ross twice a week, to be taught by her, to +study her beloved music; Mollie's heart sang for joy: the sunshine +seemed to intoxicate her. She was in a new world—a +world with swans and birds and bees in it—full of leafy +shadows and rippling, tiny waves. The kind face opposite her +broke into a smile.</p> + +<p>'Well, Mollie, are you tired of sitting here? Shall we go +back to the landing-place?'</p> + +<p>'Miss Ross, there is Cyril looking for us!' exclaimed Mollie, +almost beside herself with excitement. 'Yes, do please let us +go back; he is waving to us.' And Audrey paddled across the +pond.</p> + +<p>Cyril lifted his straw hat rather gravely; but there was +restrained eagerness in his manner as he helped them to +alight.</p> + +<p>'Mrs. Ross sent me to fetch you,' he said quietly. 'Tea is +ready, and Miss Cardell and her brother are in the drawing-room. +Mrs. Ross begged me to come back with you. Why, +Mollie'—with a pleased look—'I should hardly have known +you. She looks almost grown up, does she not, Miss Ross?'</p> + +<p>His manner had changed in a moment. He looked bright +and animated; his slight gravity vanished. It was Audrey who +became suddenly embarrassed; the eager look with which the +young man had greeted her had not been unnoticed by her. +Cyril's dark eyes were very expressive. More than once during +the last day or two Audrey had innocently intercepted those +strange, searching glances, and they vaguely disturbed her.</p> + +<p>'It is very good of you to take all this trouble with Mollie,' +continued Cyril, as he walked beside her towards the house. +'I need not ask if she has been happy—eh, Mollie?'</p> + +<p>'I have had a lovely time!' exclaimed Mollie, almost +treading on Cyril's heels in her excitement. 'Oh, Cyril, do +ask Miss Ross to take you in the canoe to Deep-water Chine! +It is such a delicious place! The trees dip into the water, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">{114}</a></span> +the birds come down to drink and bathe; and we saw a water-rat +and a water-wagtail, and there was the cuckoo; and we +could hear the cooing of the wood-pigeons whenever we were +silent; and, oh! it was paradise!'</p> + +<p>'I can believe it,' returned Cyril, in a low voice.</p> + +<p>'Mr. Blake,' asked Audrey hastily, 'why is it that you are +not on the cricket-field with the boys?'</p> + +<p>'Conybeare has taken my place. A lot of the boys were +kept in, which means I was a prisoner too. I have only just +opened the gaol-door to the poor wretches. If you want to see +a heart-breaking sight, Miss Ross—one sad enough to touch +the stoniest heart—go into the schoolroom on a half-holiday on +a summer's afternoon when half a dozen boys are kept in for +lessons returned. The utter misery depicted on those boys' +faces is not to be described.'</p> + +<p>'I should just shut up their books and tell them to be +off.'</p> + +<p>'I daresay you would,' with an amused look at her. 'I can +well imagine that that would be Miss Ross's <i>rôle</i>. We masters +have to harden our hearts; "discipline must be maintained," +as that delightful old fellow in <i>Bleak House</i> used to say; +bad work brings its own punishment.'</p> + +<p>'You are as stern as Captain Burnett. By the bye, where +is Michael?'</p> + +<p>'He has gone out with Dr. Ross. That is why Mrs. Ross +wants me to make myself useful'—and Cyril did make himself +useful.</p> + +<p>Some more visitors dropped in, Geraldine amongst them. +She had finished her business in the town, had paid a couple +of calls, and now looked in on her way home. Somehow, +Woodcote was always on the way home; but, then, as everyone +said, there were few daughters so devoted to their mother +as young Mrs. Harcourt.</p> + +<p>Audrey, who was presiding at the tea-table, saw her sister +looking at Mr. Blake with reluctant admiration; she had +never before noticed the quiet ease of his manners. He had +lost his first shyness, and was now making himself exceedingly +pleasant to Mrs. Ross's guests. Mr. Cardell, who was a stiff, +solemn-faced young man, was placed at a decided disadvantage; +clever and gentlemanly as he was, he looked positively awkward +beside Mr. Blake. Mr. Blake seemed to see everything—to +notice in a moment if a lady wanted her cup put down, +if her tea were not to her taste; he carried sugar and cream to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">{115}</a></span> +one, cake or bread and butter to another. He seemed to know +by instinct when the teapot wanted replenishing, and was ready +to lift the heavy kettle; but he never remained by Audrey's +side a moment.</p> + +<p>As Audrey busied herself among her teacups she was +amused by overhearing a fragment of conversation behind her. +Emily Cardell, a plain, good-natured sort of girl, had seated +herself beside Geraldine.</p> + +<p>'Mr. Blake seems a decided acquisition,' she observed, in +a loud whisper that was distinctly audible. 'We ought all to +be very much obliged to Dr. Ross. He is very young, but +so distinguished-looking. Poor Oliver is quite cast in the +shade.'</p> + +<p>'I don't know about that, Emily.'</p> + +<p>'I suppose you think comparisons are odious? But, all the +same, I am sure you must admire Mr. Blake.'</p> + +<p>'I think he is very gentlemanly and pleasant.'</p> + +<p>'Dear me, Geraldine! that is very moderate praise. I +never saw anyone with more finished manners.'</p> + +<p>Here Audrey moved away, but her lip curled a little. +Would Geraldine's tone have been so utterly devoid of +enthusiasm if she had not known her sister was within earshot?</p> + +<p>Just then Mollie touched Audrey on the arm.</p> + +<p>'Miss Ross, Cyril says that I have been here long enough, +and that he is going to take me away.'</p> + +<p>'Are you sure that I worded it quite so ungraciously?' +observed Cyril, who had followed her. 'All the same, I think +you will endorse my opinion, Miss Ross. Mollie has been here +all the afternoon.'</p> + +<p>'It has been a very pleasant afternoon,' returned Audrey, +with one of her kind looks at Mollie; 'and I hope we shall +have many more. Mollie and I mean to see a good deal of +each other.' And then she bade them good-bye and turned to +the other guests, who were also making their adieux.</p> + +<p>Geraldine remained behind to exchange a few confidential +words with her mother, and Audrey stepped out on the terrace. +As she did so, she was surprised to see Michael sitting just +outside the drawing-room window. He had evidently been +there some time.</p> + +<p>As she sat down beside him she was struck by his air of +dejection.</p> + +<p>'Oh, Michael, how tired you look! have you had your tea?'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">{116}</a></span></p> + +<p>He shook his head.</p> + +<p>'Then I will go and fetch you some. Do let me, Michael;' +for he had stopped her.</p> + +<p>Michael's hand was very thin and white, but when he +cared to put out his strength it had a grasp like iron; and that +firm, soft grip on Audrey's wrist kept her a prisoner.</p> + +<p>'No, don't go; it is so late that I would rather wait for +dinner. I heard the teacups, but I was too lazy to move, and +to judge from the voices, the room must have been pretty +full.'</p> + +<p>'Yes; the Cardells and the Fortescues and Gage were +there.'</p> + +<p>'Mr. Blake, too, was he not?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, mother asked him—she wanted him to help entertain +the Cardells.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, I see; and he seems disposed to be friendly—your +father has asked him to dinner to-morrow night to meet the +Pagets.'</p> + +<p>'Indeed!' and Audrey tried to suppress the pleasure she +felt at this intelligence. 'Have you any objection?' She +asked the question in a joking manner; to her surprise her +cousin answered her quite gravely:</p> + +<p>'Well, I think it will be a pity to take too much notice of +him—he is young enough to be spoilt. People are glad to +have a good-looking fellow like Blake at their parties; and, +then, I hear he has a magnificent voice. I expect half the +young ladies of Rutherford will be in love with him—Miss +Emily Cardell among them; eh, Audrey?'</p> + +<p>'I am sure I don't know,' returned Audrey coldly; 'Mr. +Blake's good looks are nothing to me.' She spoke with unusual +petulance, as though something in her cousin's remarks had not +pleased her. 'Well, if you will not have some tea, Michael, +I must just go back to mother and Gage;' and as Michael said +no word to detain her, she moved away so quickly that she did +not hear the half-stifled sigh with which Michael took up his +paper again.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">{117}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<h3>GERALDINE GIVES HER OPINION</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>'We must be as courteous to a man as we are to a picture, which we +are willing to give the advantage of a good light.'—<span class="smcap">Emerson.</span></p> + +<p>'She has a most winning manner and a soft voice.'—<i>The Abbot</i>.</p></div> + + +<p>Audrey was able to fulfil her promise to Mollie the very next +day, when she encountered Mrs. Blake unexpectedly some little +way from the town. She was just turning down a lane where +one of her <i>protégées</i>, a little lame seamstress, lived, when Zack +suddenly bounded round the corner and jumped on her, with +one of his delighted barks, and the next moment she saw a +lady in black walking very quickly towards her. She wore a +large shady hat that completely hid her face, but there was no +mistaking that graceful figure. Mrs. Blake had a peculiar +walk: it was rapid, decided, and had a light skimming movement, +that reminded Audrey of some bird flying very near the +ground; and she had a singular habit as she walked of turning +her head from side to side, as though scanning distant objects, +which deepened this resemblance.</p> + +<p>'What a charming surprise!' she exclaimed, quickening her +pace until it became a little run; 'who would have thought of +meeting you, my dear Miss Ross, in this out-of-the-way corner? +Some errand of mercy has brought you, of course,' with a glance +at Audrey's basket. 'That dainty little white cloth reminds +me of Red Riding Hood; I would wager anything that under +it there are new-laid eggs and butter. Down, Zack! you are +sniffing at it just as though you were that wicked wolf +himself.'</p> + +<p>'I am going to see Rhoda Williams,' returned Audrey; +'she is lame, poor girl! and has miserable health besides, but +she works beautifully. Geraldine and I employ her as much +as possible. I suppose you and Zack have been having a walk.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">{118}</a></span></p> + +<p>'My dear Miss Ross,' with extreme gravity, 'I am not +taking an ordinary constitutional—I have come out in the hope +of preserving my reason. I have been enacting a new version +of Hood's "Song of the Shirt"; for the last two days it has +been "Stitch, stitch, stitch,"—how do the words run on?—until +I was on the brink of delirium. An hour ago I said +to Mollie: "If you have any love for your mother, carry away +that basket and hide it; do not let me see it again for twenty-four +hours—nature is exhausted;" and then I put on my hat, +and, at the risk of spoiling my complexion, came out into this +blessed sunshine.'</p> + +<p>Audrey laughed; there was something so droll, so mirth-provoking +in Mrs. Blake's tone. Any other woman would have +said, in a matter-of-fact way: 'I was tired of work, and so I put +on my bonnet;' but Mrs. Blake liked to drape her sentences +effectively.</p> + +<p>'It is very fortunate that we have met,' returned Audrey, +when she had finished her laugh, 'for I want to ask you a great +favour;' and she detailed her little scheme for Mollie.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Blake was evidently surprised, but she testified her +gratitude in her usual impulsive way.</p> + +<p>'How good, how kind of you, my dear Miss Ross! Indeed, +I do not know how to thank you; no one has ever taken so +much notice of my poor Mollie before, except that droll old +creature Miss Foster; but she could not bear me—a compliment +I reciprocated; so we always quarrelled when we met.'</p> + +<p>'And you will spare Mollie to me for an hour or so twice a +week?'</p> + +<p>'Will I not! Do you suppose I am such an unnatural +mother that I could refuse such a generous offer? I really am +ashamed to tell you, Miss Ross, that I do not know a note of +music. When I was a girl I was very perverse, and refused to +learn, because I said I had no ear; but in reality I hated the +trouble of all those scales and exercises. Of course I am sorry +for it now: Cyril is so musical, and has such a delightful voice, +and even poor little Mollie has picked up her notes as cleverly +as possible.'</p> + +<p>'I am so glad you have not refused me. I am sure I shall +enjoy teaching Mollie. I think we had better begin as soon as +possible. Let me see: this is Friday; will you ask her to +come to me on Monday morning? I will be ready for her by +half-past eleven.'</p> + +<p>'Thank you a thousand times! I will certainly give her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">{119}</a></span> +your message. What a blessing that new cambric is finished! +Cyril will be so pleased when I tell him about your kindness. +He worries dreadfully about Mollie sometimes: he says her +education is so desultory; but I tell him he cannot alter his +mother's nature. I never was methodical; it drives me crazy +to do things by rule. Mollie sometimes says to me: "Mamma, +I do so wish I had a fixed hour for lessons, that I knew exactly +when you could read with me;" and my invariable answer is, +"Good gracious, Mollie! don't you know me by this time? am I +that sort of person?" I wish for my children's sake that I +were different; but they must just put up with me as I am. +You can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear.'</p> + +<p>'My dear Mrs. Blake, what an odd comparison!'</p> + +<p>'Oh, it just came into my head, you know; it is rather +strong, but it is very expressive. By the bye, I was going to +ask you something. Have you any idea on which day your +mother and sister intend to call on me?'</p> + +<p>'I believe Geraldine said Tuesday or Wednesday; I really +forget which—Wednesday, I think.'</p> + +<p>'But it might be Tuesday. Thanks. I would not willingly +be out, so I will keep in those two days. Now, I positively +must not keep you standing under this hedge any longer; but +I feel all the better for this nice little talk.' And after a few +more parting words Mrs. Blake went on her way, and Audrey +unlocked the gate of Mrs. Williams' cottage.</p> + +<p>The short interview with Mrs. Blake had been satisfactory; +her request had been granted without demur or difficulty. Mrs. +Blake had shown herself in a sensible light. Audrey's benevolence +had now a new object; she would spare no pains or +trouble with this poor neglected child. To meditate fresh acts +of kindness always stirred Audrey's pulses as though she had +imbibed new wine. Her sympathetic temperament felt warmed, +vivified, exhilarated, as she stooped to enter the low room +where Rhoda Williams was expecting her.</p> + +<p>Audrey looked forward rather anxiously to her mother and +Geraldine's visit. She watched them set out with secret perturbation. +They were to call at one or two places besides, but +Mrs. Ross assured her very seriously that they would be back +to tea; and as Geraldine seemed to consider this as a matter of +course, Audrey got over her own business as soon as possible, +so as to be back at Woodcote at the same time.</p> + +<p>Michael had gone up to town for two or three days, and +was not expected home until Monday. Dr. Ross rarely made<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">{120}</a></span> +his appearance in his wife's drawing-room until late in the +evening, and, as no casual visitors dropped in, Audrey would +be able to cross-examine them to her heart's content. But she +knew her mother well enough to be sure that no questions +would be needed. Even if Geraldine were inclined to be reserved, +to keep her opinions for her husband's ear, Mrs. +Ross would be sure to discourse very readily on her own +and Geraldine's doings.</p> + +<p>'Well, my dear,' she said in her cheery way, as she entered +the room, 'here we are, as punctual as possible, and quite ready +for a nice cup of tea. Of course Mrs. Fortescue was out—she +always is—and Mrs. Cardell was just going out, so we would +not detain her; and Mrs. Charrington had her room full of +visitors, so we would not stay long there.'</p> + +<p>'Of course, as Lady Mountjoy was there, no one else had a +chance of getting a word with Mrs. Charrington,' observed +Geraldine, with rather a discontented air.</p> + +<p>'My love, I am sure Mrs. Charrington was as nice as possible +to you; you know what a favourite you are with her. But a +person like Lady Mountjoy is always so embarrassing to a +hostess. She is so very big, Audrey, and seems to take up so +much more room than other people; and, then, she is such a +talker!'</p> + +<p>'So she is, mother. I don't wonder poor Mrs. Charrington +found herself unable to talk to Gage.'</p> + +<p>'No; so we did not stay long. What was the use? Well, +my dear, I daresay you wonder how we got on at the Gray +Cottage? We had a very pleasant visit, on the whole—an +exceedingly pleasant visit.'</p> + +<p>Audrey's face brightened; this was better than she expected.</p> + +<p>'Mrs. Blake was in. I think, from her manner, that she +was expecting us.'</p> + +<p>'Yes; certainly we were expected,' put in Geraldine, in +rather a decided voice.</p> + +<p>'She was in the drawing-room, and everything was as nice +as possible; and the old servant is very respectable-looking. +Mrs. Blake was doing some lovely embroidery in a frame. How +exquisitely she works, Audrey! and she selects her own shades, +too. That dear little Mollie was reading to her—French history, +I think. They did look so comfortable! You are certainly right, +my dear: Mrs. Blake is a most charming woman; she has very +taking manners, and is altogether so bright and expressive.'</p> + +<p>'She is certainly very handsome,' observed Geraldine—'a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">{121}</a></span> +most striking-looking person, as Edith says. Mother and I +agreed that her son is very like her; but, for my own part, I +prefer Mr. Blake's quiet manners.'</p> + +<p>'But you like her, Gage?' and Audrey looked a little +anxiously at her sister.</p> + +<p>'I am not quite sure,' was the cautious answer. 'Mother +liked her; but, then, mother likes everyone. She was friendly +and pleasant—pointedly so; but, in my opinion, she is too +impulsive, too outspoken altogether. It is not quite good form. +A grown-up person should have more reticence. To me, Mrs. +Blake is wanting in dignity.'</p> + +<p>'I think you are rather severe on her, Gage. You and Mrs. +Blake are very different people.'</p> + +<p>'You need not tell me that. Mrs. Blake and I are at the +antipodes as far as temperament and sympathy are concerned. +You are very impulsive yourself, Audrey, and often speak +without thought; but I do not think you are quite so outspoken +as Mrs. Blake.'</p> + +<p>'Well, perhaps not.'</p> + +<p>'It was so unnecessary for her to tell mother, for example, +that she was too poor to indulge her social tastes, and that she +hoped her Rutherford neighbours would be very sparing of their +invitations. It was not as though we had led up to it. Nothing +of the sort had been said to prompt such an extraordinary +statement. I am sure Percival would have called that bad +form.'</p> + +<p>'How I do hate that expression!' exclaimed Audrey, rather +pettishly. She thought Geraldine more than usually trying +this afternoon.</p> + +<p>'Still, I am sure you would have agreed with me that it +was most uncalled for. Mother was quite taken aback for a +moment. She told me so afterwards—did you not, mother?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, dear; and, of course, it put me in a difficult position. +I am sure I do not know what we were talking about, Audrey. +I think I was saying something about Rutherford being a +sociable little place.'</p> + +<p>'Yes; and then she interrupted you, mother, and said, in +an abrupt sort of way, that its sociability would matter very +little to her, for, dearly as she loved gaiety, she could not afford +to indulge in it. "So I hope no kind neighbours will ask me +to dinner, or to any kind of evening entertainment, for I should +be obliged to refuse." Now, do you call that quite in good +taste, Audrey?'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">{122}</a></span></p> + +<p>'I think that it was, at any rate, very honest. I can see +none of that pretentiousness that Edith Bryce led us to expect.'</p> + +<p>'I don't know,' rather doubtfully. 'Mrs. Blake is certainly +not a humble person; she thinks a great deal of herself. At +times her manner was almost patronising. She talks a great +deal too much about her son. Of course she has a right to be +proud of him; but it was a pity to be quite so gushing.'</p> + +<p>'It is useless to talk to you, Gage,' returned Audrey +impatiently. 'Edith Bryce has prejudiced you too much. +You are judging Mrs. Blake very unfairly.'</p> + +<p>'I hope not. I do not wish to be unfair to anyone; but +I must own that I am sorry that you have such an infatuation +for her.'</p> + +<p>'I don't know about that; but I am certainly very much +interested in the whole family.'</p> + +<p>'Yes; and I could not help observing to mother that I +thought it a great pity. They evidently look upon you as a +close friend. It was "dear Miss Ross" every minute from one +or other of them.'</p> + +<p>'Audrey has been so good to them, you see,' returned Mrs. +Ross, whose soft heart had been much touched by her daughter's +praises. 'I am quite sure, Geraldine, that Mrs. Blake meant +every word she said; there were tears in her eyes once when +she mentioned how unused they were to such kindness. Audrey, +my dear, I have asked Mrs. Blake to waive ceremony and come +to us on Monday, and I assure you she was quite pleased. She +said it was such a treat to her to watch tennis, and that she +loved to see her son play. And now, of course, we must ask +Mr. Blake.'</p> + +<p>'Oh yes, I suppose so.' Audrey spoke with studied indifference. +'It is a pity you are engaged'—turning to her +sister—'for we shall have quite a large party.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, I am thoroughly vexed about it,' returned Geraldine, +'for Mrs. Charrington is coming too. I wish Mrs. Sheppard +would not always fix Monday;' and then, after a little more +talk about the arrangements for the tennis-party, she took her +leave—Audrey, as usual, accompanying her to the gate.</p> + +<p>'I suppose Michael will be back for it?' was her parting +question.</p> + +<p>Audrey supposed so too, but she was not quite certain of +Michael's movements. He had said something about his +intention of coming back on Monday, but he might alter his +mind before that. Michael had not seemed quite like himself<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">{123}</a></span> +the day before he went to town; she was sure something had +harassed him. Geraldine hoped fervently that this was not the +case; she never liked dear old Michael to be troubled about +anything. And then the two sisters kissed each other very +affectionately. Audrey always forgave Geraldine her little vexing +proprieties and tiresome habit of managing everyone when she +felt her loving kiss on her cheek.</p> + +<p>'After all, there are only we two,' she thought, as she +walked back to the house. 'I must not magnify Gage's little +faults, for she is a dear woman.'</p> + +<p>And Geraldine's thoughts were quite as affectionate.</p> + +<p>'I hope I have not vexed her too much about this new +<i>protégée</i> of hers,' she said to herself, 'but one cannot pretend +to like a person. Audrey is a darling, and I would not hurt +her for the world. After all, she is a much better Christian +than I am;' and then she had a long, comfortable talk with +her husband, in which she indemnified herself for any previous +restraint.</p> + +<p>'It is so nice to be able to tell you everything, Percy dear!' +she exclaimed, as the dressing gong warned her to close the +conversation.</p> + +<p>'That is the good of having a husband,' he replied, as he +put his books together and prepared to follow her.</p> + +<p>Michael did not return in time for the tennis-party, but +Audrey could only give him a regretful thought—so many people +were coming that her hands were quite full. She was busy +until luncheon time, and Geraldine good-naturedly came down +from Hillside to offer her help, and had to submit to an anxious +lecture from her mother on her imprudence in coming out in +the heat. Audrey had scarcely time to change her dress before +the first guest arrived. Mrs. Blake came early; her son was +still engaged with his scholastic duties, and would make his +appearance later; but he had not allowed her to wait for him. +Audrey saw her coming through the gate, and went at once to +meet her.</p> + +<p>'Well, Miss Ross, I am making my début,' she said gaily; +'have I come too early? Do tell me which is the schoolroom +window; I want to know where my boy sits; he said he should +look out for me.'</p> + +<p>Audrey suggested rather gravely that they should walk +along the terrace: her mother was on the lawn with Mrs. +Charrington. She thought Mrs. Blake looked exceedingly +nice in her thin black dress and little close bonnet; nothing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">{124}</a></span> +could be simpler, and perhaps nothing would have suited her +half so well. Audrey felt sure that everyone would admire +her; and she was right. Mrs. Charrington fell in love with +her at first sight, and to Audrey's great amusement her father +paid her the most marked attention.</p> + +<p>'My dear, do tell me who that lady in black is,' inquired +Gertrude Fortescue, catching hold of Audrey's arm; 'she is +perfectly lovely. What magnificent hair she has, and what +a sweet smile! Papa is talking to her now, and Mrs. +Charrington is on her other side.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, that is Mrs. Blake—you know her son, Gertrude.'</p> + +<p>'Mr. Blake's mother! why, she looks quite young enough to +be his sister. I wish you would introduce me, Audrey; I have +quite lost my heart to her.'</p> + +<p>'I have brought you another admirer, Mrs. Blake,' observed +Audrey mischievously, while Gertrude Fortescue turned red +and looked foolish. Mrs. Blake received the young lady with +one of her charming smiles.</p> + +<p>'Everyone is so kind,' she murmured; 'I am having such +a happy afternoon, Miss Ross. I won't tell you what I think +of Dr. Ross—I positively dare not; and Mrs. Charrington, too, +has been as nice as possible.'</p> + +<p>'And now Gertrude means to be nice, too,' returned Audrey +brightly. 'Good-bye for the present; I have to play with Mr. +Blake, and he is waiting for me;' and she hurried away.</p> + +<p>What a successful afternoon it was! Mrs. Blake was +certainly making her mark among the Rutherford people; no +one in their senses could have found fault with her manners. +She was perfectly good-humoured and at her ease; she had +a pleasant word and smile for everybody.</p> + +<p>'One would have imagined that all these strangers would +have made her nervous,' thought Audrey; but it needed a close +observer to detect any mark of uneasiness in Mrs. Blake's voice +or manner. Now and then there might be a slight flush, an +involuntary movement of the well-gloved hands, a quick start +or turn of the head, if anyone suddenly addressed her; but no +one would have noticed these little symptoms.</p> + +<p>'Your mother seems to be enjoying herself,' observed +Audrey, as she joined Cyril and they walked across the lawn +together.</p> + +<p>'Yes,' he returned, with a pleased look; 'she is quite +happy.'</p> + +<p>'Let us sit where we can see my son and Miss Ross play!'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">{125}</a></span> +exclaimed Mrs. Blake, rising as she spoke. 'Look! there are +chairs on that side of the lawn. What a well-matched couple +they are!—both play so well. Miss Ross is not as handsome +as her sister—Mrs. Harcourt is an exceedingly fine young +woman, and one seldom sees such a complexion in the present +day—but, in my humble opinion, Miss Ross is far more +charming.'</p> + +<p>'Do you think so? We are all very fond of Geraldine, +and—oh yes, Audrey is very nice too,' returned Miss Fortescue +a little absently. She was considered handsome herself, and +it struck her with some degree of wonderment that the afternoon +was half over and Mr. Blake had not asked her to play +tennis.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">{126}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<h3>'I AM SORRY YOU ASKED THE QUESTION'</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>'Thou must not be hurt at a well-meaning friend, though he shake +thee somewhat roughly by the shoulder to awake thee.'</p> + +<p class="signlet"><i>Quentin Durward.</i></p></div> + + +<p>Half an hour later Audrey had finished her game, and had +resisted all her partner's pleadings to give their opponents their +revenge. She might feel tempted—Mr. Blake played so +splendidly—but she knew her duty to her guests better than +that.</p> + +<p>'You must get another partner,' she said, with something +of her sister's decision. 'Here is Miss Fortescue; she has +been sitting out a long time, and she is a very good player. +Gertrude'—raising her voice—'Mr. Blake wants a partner. +I am sure you will take pity on him.' And in this manner +Gertrude obtained her wish.</p> + +<p>Perhaps she would rather have had her desire gratified in a +different manner—if Mr. Blake had asked her himself, for +example. She was not quite pleased at the tone in which he +professed himself delighted to play with Miss Fortescue; he +fetched her racket a little reluctantly, when Audrey pointed +it out, and there was certainly no enthusiasm visible in his +manner as he suggested that Miss Cardell and her partner were +waiting for them.</p> + +<p>'Do you know where my mother and Miss Ross have gone?' +he asked, as they took their place.</p> + +<p>'Mrs. Blake asked Miss Ross to show her the pond. They +are waiting for you to serve, Mr. Blake;' and then Cyril did +consent to throw himself into the game. Miss Fortescue was a +good-looking girl, and played well, but she was not Miss Ross; +nevertheless, Cyril had no intention of accepting a beating, and +he was soon playing as brilliantly as ever.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">{127}</a></span></p> + +<p>Meanwhile, Mrs. Blake was talking after her usual rapid +fashion.</p> + +<p>'What beautiful grounds! and so tastefully laid out, too. +I have never seen such a garden. I do love this succession of +terraces, and those trees with white leaves just striped with +pink—what do you call them, Miss Ross?'</p> + +<p>Audrey told her they were white maple.</p> + +<p>'Dear me! Did Dr. Ross plant them? They do look so +well against that dark background of trees. Everything is in +such perfect taste and order, and Cyril says it is the same in +the house. The Bryces' establishment was not half so well +regulated. He declares Dr. Ross has a master-mind, and, now +I have talked to him, I am quite sure Cyril is right.'</p> + +<p>'You must not expect me to contradict you. I think there +is no one like my father.'</p> + +<p>'I daresay not. He is charming—positively charming! +So this is the pond Kester and Mollie rave about? What a +sweet little place—so still and so retired! But of course you +can see the house from it. Is not that your cousin, Captain +Burnett?'—as they came in sight of the bench. 'It is very +much like him.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, of course it is Michael!' and Audrey quickened her +steps in surprise. 'My dear Michael, when did you get back? +No one knows of your arrival.'</p> + +<p>'I daresay not,' he returned somewhat gravely, as he shook +hands with her and bowed to Mrs. Blake. 'I only got in half +an hour ago, and, having no mind to mingle with the crowd, I +sat here to get cool.'</p> + +<p>'Have you had some tea, Michael?'</p> + +<p>'Oh yes; Parker brought me some. Never mind me. +How have you been getting on?' looking at her attentively.</p> + +<p>'Oh, very well.' But Audrey blushed a little uneasily under +that kind look. 'Mrs. Blake, I believe you have not met my +cousin before?'</p> + +<p>'I think we have met, Audrey.'</p> + +<p>'To be sure we have!' responded Mrs. Blake, with her +brightest smile. 'I am so glad of this opportunity of speaking +to you, Captain Burnett. I hope Miss Ross gave you my +message?'</p> + +<p>'I don't believe I have had any message—have I, Audrey?' +And Audrey laughed a little guiltily; she did not always remember +people's messages.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Blake shook her head at her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">{128}</a></span></p> + +<p>'Oh, you traitress!' she exclaimed playfully. 'And I +thought you, of all people, were to be trusted. Captain Burnett, +I must give my own message. I want to thank you for your +kindness to my poor boy.'</p> + +<p>'He is not poor at all,' he replied lightly; but his keen blue +eyes seemed to take the measure, mental and physical, of the +graceful-looking woman before him. 'He is a very clever fellow, +and will make his mark. I can assure you I quite envy him +his brains.'</p> + +<p>'It makes me so proud to hear you say that. I often wonder +why my children are so clever; their father'—she checked +herself, and then went on in a more subdued key—'my poor +husband had only average talents, and as for me——' She left +her sentence unfinished in a most expressive way.</p> + +<p>'Mollie says you are clever too, Mrs. Blake.'</p> + +<p>'My dear Miss Ross, then Mollie—bless her little heart!—is +wrong. Is it my fault if those foolish children choose to +swear by their mother? Cleverness does not consist in chattering +a little French and Italian—does it, Captain Burnett? +You and I know better than that, and it will always be a +lasting wonder to me why I have a son like my Cyril.'</p> + +<p>'You have two sons, Mrs. Blake.'</p> + +<p>Something indefinable in Michael's tone made Mrs. Blake +redden for a moment; then she recovered herself.</p> + +<p>'Yes, thank God! I have; but a widow's eldest son is +always her prop. Kester is a mere boy; he cannot help his +mother much yet.'</p> + +<p>'Kester is nearly sixteen, and will soon be a man; he is +already very thoughtful for his age. I am sure you will permit +me to say that I already take great interest in him; he has a +wonderful thirst for knowledge. I showed one of his translations +to Dr. Ross, and he was quite struck by it. You know, Dr. +Ross is a fine Greek scholar.'</p> + +<p>Mrs. Blake seemed much impressed; she was evidently +taken aback. She was generally so absorbed in her eldest son +that she failed to give Kester his due. The boy was shy and +retiring with her; very likely he felt himself unappreciated. +Anyhow, it was certain that he sought sympathy from everyone +but his mother; and yet, in her own way, she was kind to him.</p> + +<p>Audrey was a little disappointed to find Michael so grave in +his manner to her charming friend—for such she already considered +Mrs. Blake. Michael was generally so nice and genial +with people; he did not seem in the least aware that he was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">{129}</a></span> +talking to a pretty woman. In Audrey's opinion, he seemed +disposed to pick holes in Mrs. Blake's words and to find matter +for argument. Not that this would be apparent to anyone but +herself; but then she knew Michael so well. She could +always tell in a moment if he approved or disapproved of +anyone. One thing was clear enough to her, that Mrs. Blake +was not at her ease. She lost her gay fluency, and hesitated +for a word now and then; and when they left the lake and +walked towards the tennis-ground, and Cyril intercepted them, +she gave him an appealing look to draw him to her side. But +for once Cyril was blind to his mother's wishes. He shook hands +with Captain Burnett, and then fell behind to speak to Audrey.</p> + +<p>'Do you mean to say that you have finished your game +already?' she asked, in some surprise.</p> + +<p>'No, indeed; only Mrs. Fortescue discovered that it was +late, and took her daughter away, and, of course, I could not +beat them single-handed—Wheeler is a crack player—so we +made up our mind to consider it a drawn game. You ought +not to have thrown me over, Miss Ross,' dropping his voice; +'it was hardly kind, was it?'</p> + +<p>'Would you have me play with you and neglect all my other +guests?' she returned, smiling. 'I think you owe me some +gratitude for providing you with a partner like Gertrude +Fortescue. She is one of our best players.'</p> + +<p>'I would rather have kept the partner I had,' he replied, +with unwonted obstinacy; 'even in tennis one prefers one's +own selection. I played the first set far better.'</p> + +<p>'I believe you are a little cross with me, Mr. Blake.'</p> + +<p>'I!' startled by this accusation, although it was playfully +made, and reddening to his temples; 'I have no right to take +such a liberty. No man in his senses could be cross with you +for a moment.'</p> + +<p>'You are wrong. Michael is often cross with me.'</p> + +<p>'Is he?' slackening his pace, and so compelling her to do the +same, until there were several yards between them and the +couple in front. 'Captain Burnett seems to me far too good-natured; +I should have said there was not a spark of temper +about him. I am rather hasty myself.'</p> + +<p>'I am so glad you have warned me in time, Mr. Blake.'</p> + +<p>'Why, do you meditate any special provocation?' Then, +catching sight of her dimple, his own face relaxed. 'I see you +are laughing at me. I am afraid I was not properly gracious to +Miss Fortescue. I will make up for it on Thursday at the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">{130}</a></span> +Charringtons', and ask her to play. You will be there?' with a note of anxiety in his voice.</p> + +<p>'Oh yes; I shall be there, of course.'</p> + +<p>'We must have one set together; you will promise me that?' +and Cyril's dark eyes looked full into hers.</p> + +<p>'Yes, certainly.' But Audrey blushed a little. She felt a +sudden desire to hurry after the others; but her companion +evidently held a different opinion.</p> + +<p>'Do you know Mrs. Charrington has asked my mother to +come too?'</p> + +<p>'No, indeed; but I am so glad to hear it.'</p> + +<p>'She was most kind about it: she has promised to call on +her to-morrow. My mother is so pleased. Does she not look +happy, Miss Ross? She is so fond of this sort of thing—a dull +life never suits her. She nearly moped herself to death at +Headingly; we were all uncomfortable there.'</p> + +<p>'I think she will get on with the Rutherford people.'</p> + +<p>'Indeed I hope so. Miss Ross, do you know, I am so vexed +about something my mother said the other afternoon, when +Mrs. Ross and Mrs. Harcourt were calling on her.' And as +Audrey looked mystified, he went on slowly: 'She actually +told them that she would accept no evening engagements, +and that she hoped no one would invite her to dinner.'</p> + +<p>'Oh yes, I remember.'</p> + +<p>'I am afraid they must have thought it very strange. I tell +my mother that she is far too frank and outspoken for our +civilised age, and that there is not the slightest need to flaunt +our poverty in our neighbours' faces.'</p> + +<p>Cyril spoke with an air of unmistakable annoyance, and +Audrey good-naturedly hastened to soothe him. Her fine +instinct told her that his stronger and more reticent nature +must often be wounded by his mother's indiscreet tongue.</p> + +<p>'I am afraid you are a little worldly-minded, Mr. Blake. I +consider your mother was far more honest.'</p> + +<p>'Thank you,' in a low tone; 'but all the same,' returning to +his usual manner, 'it was premature and absurd to make such +a statement. My mother has to do as I like,' throwing back +his handsome head with a sort of wilfulness that Audrey thought +very becoming, 'and I intend her to go out. Miss Ross, I am +going to ask you a very odd question, but there is no other lady +to whom I can put such an inquiry. Does it cost so very much—I +mean, how much does it cost—for a lady to be properly +dressed for the evening?'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">{131}</a></span></p> + +<p>Audrey did not dare to laugh, Cyril was so evidently in +earnest; her nice tact guarded her from making such a grievous +mistake.</p> + +<p>'Your question is a little vague, Mr. Blake; I hardly know +what I am to understand by it. Do you mean evening dress +for one dinner-party or a succession of dinner-parties? You +know they are perpetual in Rutherford; every house invites +every other house to dinner. In Rutherford we are terribly +given to dining out.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, I see; and relays of gowns would be required,' +returned Cyril in a dejected voice. 'I am afraid I must give +it up, then. My mother would certainly not be able to afford +that for the present.'</p> + +<p>'But when one wears black, a change of dress is not so +necessary,' interrupted Audrey eagerly. 'If I were poor, I +should not allow poverty to debar me from the society of my +fellow-creatures, just because I could not make as great a display +as other people. No, indeed; I would not be the slave of my +clothes.'</p> + +<p>'I can believe that,' with an admiring glance.</p> + +<p>'I would have one good black dress—and it should be as +nice as my means would allow—and I would wear it everywhere, +and I would not care a bit if people looked as though they +recognised it. "You are noticing my gown!" I would say to +them. "Yes, it is an old friend. Old friends are better than +new, and I mean to cling to mine. By and by, when I am a +little richer, I will buy another."'</p> + +<p>'Miss Ross, if my mother could but hear you!'</p> + +<p>'Tell her what I say, and bid her do the same. Black suits +her so perfectly, too.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, she never means to wear anything else but black,' he +returned gravely.</p> + +<p>'Let her get a soft silk—a Surah, for example—and if it be +made prettily and in the newest fashion, it will look well for +a long time. Yes'—reflectively—'Mrs. Blake would look well +in Surah.'</p> + +<p>'Would she? Do you mind telling me how to spell it?' and +Cyril produced his pocket-book.</p> + +<p>'S-u-r-a-h.'</p> + +<p>'Thank you a thousand times, Miss Ross! And about the +cost—would five pounds do?' looking at her anxiously.</p> + +<p>'Oh yes, I should say that would do,' replied Audrey, who in +reality knew very little about it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">{132}</a></span></p> + +<p>Mr. Blake would have done better to have consulted +Geraldine, she thought. Geraldine would have told him the +price to a fraction of a shilling; she would have directed him to +the best shop for making an excellent bargain. Geraldine had +a genius for these practical things, whereas she—Audrey—was +liable to make mistakes.</p> + +<p>'I am sure five pounds will do,' she repeated, by way of +encouragement; and again Cyril thanked her fervently.</p> + +<p>There was no more opportunity for carrying on this interesting +discussion, for the others were now standing quite still in +the shrubbery walk, waiting for them to join them.</p> + +<p>'My dearest boy, everyone has gone!' exclaimed Mrs. Blake, +in a tone of dismay. 'The tennis-lawn is empty!'</p> + +<p>'What does that matter?' replied Audrey, hastening up to +her with a heightened colour, as she noticed a quick, observant +look on Michael's part. 'We have no rule for our +Mondays; people come when they like, and stay as long as they +like.'</p> + +<p>'But, still, to be the last to go, and this my first visit to +Woodcote!' rejoined Mrs. Blake uneasily. 'Cyril, you ought +to have taken me away long ago.'</p> + +<p>'We will make our adieux now,' he returned carelessly, and +not at all affected by his mother's discomposure. 'Come, +mother, I see Mrs. Ross standing in the drawing-room window; +she is evidently waiting for us.' And Cyril drew his mother's +hand through his arm.</p> + +<p>Audrey and Michael followed them to the gate. Mrs. Blake +kissed Audrey with some effusion. Audrey, who, in spite of +her large heart and wide sympathies, was not a demonstrative +person, would willingly have dispensed with this little attention +before the gentlemen. Mrs. Blake had never offered to embrace +her before. She had an idea, too, that Cyril was not quite +pleased.</p> + +<p>'Come, come, mother,' he said impatiently, 'we are detaining +Miss Ross;' and he hurried her away.</p> + +<p>Audrey would have returned to the house at once, but +Michael asked her to take another turn in the shrubbery.</p> + +<p>'For I have not seen you for a whole week,' he grumbled; +'and it is hardly possible to get a word with you now.'</p> + +<p>'Well, you have me now,' she returned with assumed gaiety; +but all the time she wanted to be alone and think what Mr. +Blake's parting look meant. 'It was so—so——' Audrey +could not quite find the word. 'And now, Michael, I am ready.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">{133}</a></span> +Audrey was going to say, 'I am ready to hear your opinion of +Mrs. Blake;' but just at that moment she saw her father +coming to meet them.</p> + +<p>Two is company, but three is none, as both Michael and +Audrey felt at that moment. Dr. Ross, on the contrary, joined +them with the air of a man who knows himself to be an acquisition. +He tucked his daughter's hand under his arm, and began +questioning Michael about his week in town.</p> + +<p>As it happened, Michael had seen and done a good deal, and +Audrey was soon interested in what he had to tell them. She +knew all Michael's friends by name, and in this way could claim +acquaintance with a large circle. She was soon busily questioning +him in her turn. Had he seen that pretty little Mrs. +Maddox? and was the baby christened? and who was the second +godfather? and so on, until the gong warned them to disperse.</p> + +<p>The conversation at dinner ran on the same topics, but just +before they rose from the table Mrs. Ross asked Michael if he +did not admire Mrs. Blake.</p> + +<p>'Very much, indeed,' he returned, without a moment's +hesitation. 'She has three very excellent points for a woman: +she is pretty, lively, and amusing. I had quite a long talk with +her.' And then he changed the subject—whether intentionally +or unintentionally Audrey could not tell—and began telling +them about a picture one of his friends was painting for the +next Exhibition.</p> + +<p>Michael was very much engaged the next few days. He +had told Kester to come to him every morning that week, to +make up for the lessons he had lost, and as a succession of +garden-parties occupied Audrey's afternoons, she did not find +time for one of those confidential chats with Michael which +they both so much enjoyed. When Thursday came Michael +escorted her to the Charringtons' garden-party. Mrs. Ross and +her husband were to come later.</p> + +<p>Audrey was amongst the tennis-players, but, as she passed +to and fro with her various partners, she saw Michael more +than once talking to Mrs. Blake. The first time he gave her a +nod and a smile, but when she passed them again he seemed +too much engrossed with Mrs. Blake's lively conversation to +notice her.</p> + +<p>Audrey had just finished her second game with Mr. Blake, +and he was taking her to the house in search of refreshments. +As Audrey ate her strawberries, she wondered a little over +Michael's abstraction.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">{134}</a></span></p> + +<p>'He certainly seems to admire her,' she said to herself.</p> + +<p>Michael and she were to dine at Hillside that evening, and +as they walked home together in the summer moonlight Audrey +bethought herself at last of asking that question.</p> + +<p>'Michael, I want you to tell me what you think of Mrs. +Blake? I am quite sure you like her very much indeed.'</p> + +<p>'You are wrong, then. I wonder what put such a notion +in your head—because I was talking to her so much this +afternoon? That was more her fault than mine. No, Audrey; +I am sorry to say it, but I do not like Mrs. Blake at all.'</p> + +<p>'Michael!' and Audrey stood still in the road. This was a +shock indeed! She was prepared for criticism: Michael always +criticised her friends; he felt it a part of his duty; but this +utter disapprobation was so unexpected; it was crushing—absolutely +crushing! Michael, too, whose opinion she trusted +so entirely! 'Oh, I hope you don't mean it—that you are only +joking,' she said, so earnestly that he felt a little sorry for his +abruptness; but it was too late to retract; besides, Michael +never retracted.</p> + +<p>'I am sorry you asked me the question; but I am bound to +tell you the truth, you know.'</p> + +<p>'And is it really the truth?' she asked a little piteously. +'It is very soon for you to have made up your mind that you +do not like her; why, you have only spoken to her twice.'</p> + +<p>'Yes; but I have had plenty of time to form my opinion of +her. Look here, Audrey, you must not be vexed with me. I +would not have found fault with your fair friend if you had +not asked my opinion. Of course I admire her; one has +seldom seen a prettier woman, and her style is so uncommon, +too.'</p> + +<p>'Don't, Michael; you will be praising her hair and complexion +next, as Gertrude Fortescue did the other afternoon. +It is the woman, Mrs. Blake herself, I want you to like.'</p> + +<p>'Ah, just so!'</p> + +<p>'And now I am so disappointed. Somehow I never enjoy +my friends quite so much if you do not care for them. I thought +we always liked the same people, but now——' Here Audrey +stopped. She felt vexed and mortified; she did want Michael +to share her interest in the Blakes.</p> + +<p>'And now you will look on me as a broken reed; but, +after all, I am not so bad. I like Kester—he is a fine fellow; +and I like your little friend Mollie—she is true as steel; and,' +after a moment's pause, 'I like Mr. Blake.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">{135}</a></span></p> + +<p>'Are you quite sure of that, Michael?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, I am quite sure of it. If I know anything of human +nature, Mr. Blake is worthy of my esteem: as far as any man +is good, he is good. And then he has such splendid capabilities.'</p> + +<p>Audrey felt vaguely that this was generous on Michael's +part; and yet she could not have told herself why it was +generous. If she had had an idea of the truth! But as +yet she was only dimly conscious of the nobility of Michael's +nature.</p> + +<p>'Mr. Blake is clever,' he continued, 'but he does not think +much of himself; it is rare to find such modesty in a young +man of the present day. Still, he is very young; one can +hardly tell what he may become.'</p> + +<p>'Father says he is three-and-twenty, Michael.'</p> + +<p>'Still, Audrey, a man's character is not always fully +developed at three-and-twenty; at that age I was a conceited +cub. I am seven-and-thirty now, and I feel my opinions are as +settled as Dr. Ross's are.'</p> + +<p>'I wish you would not always talk as though you were +father's contemporary; it is so absurd, Michael, when everyone +else thinks you a young man!'</p> + +<p>'I am a very old young man,' he returned with a whimsical +smile; 'I have aged prematurely, and my wisdom has developed +at the same rapid rate. Amongst my other gifts I +have that of second-sight.'</p> + +<p>'Indeed!' with incredulous scorn. 'You are not very +humble in your own estimation.'</p> + +<p>'My dear, old young men are never humble. Well, my +gift of second-sight has put me up to a thing or two. Do you +know,' turning away and switching the hedgerows carelessly as +he spoke, 'I should be very sorry if any girl in whom I took a +deep interest were to be thrown too much into Mr. Blake's +company.'</p> + +<p>Audrey faced round on her cousin in extreme surprise.</p> + +<p>'You are very incomprehensible to-night, Michael: at one +moment you praise Mr. Blake, and say nice things about him, +and the next minute you are warning people against becoming +intimate with him—that is surely very inconsistent.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, there is method in my madness,' he returned quietly. +'I have nothing to say against the young man himself. As far +as I can tell, there is no harm in him; but he is so young, and +is such a devoted son, that he is likely to be influenced by his +mother.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">{136}</a></span></p> + +<p>'And it is on her account that you would dislike any +such intimacy? Oh, Michael,' very sorrowfully, 'I had no +idea you would dislike her so!'</p> + +<p>'It seems rather unreasonable—such a pretty woman, too. +On the whole, I think I do like talking to her, she is so +amusing. But, Audrey, I must say one thing: you are always +talking about her frankness. Now, I do not agree with you.'</p> + +<p>'I don't understand you, Michael. I have never known +anyone so outspoken.'</p> + +<p>'Outspoken—yes. Well, I will explain myself. You are +frank, Audrey; you hide nothing, because there is nothing to +hide; and if there were, you would not hide it. Now, Mrs. +Blake has her reserves; with all her impulsiveness, she has +thorough self-command, and would never say a word more than +suited her own purposes. It is her pleasure to indulge in a +wild, picturesque sort of talk; it is effective, and pleases +people; and Mrs. Blake, in common with other pretty women, +likes to please. There is no positive harm in it—perhaps not, +but it detracts from reality.'</p> + +<p>'But, Michael, I like to please people too.'</p> + +<p>'Certainly you do. Have I not often called you a little +hypocrite for pretending to like what other people like! +How often have we fallen out on that point! But you and +Mrs. Blake are very different people, my dear; with all your +faults, your friends would not wish to see you changed.'</p> + +<p>But the dark shade of the shrubbery walk they were just +entering hid the strangely tender look that was in Michael's +eyes as he said the last words.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">{137}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<h3>MRS. BLAKE HAS HER NEW GOWN</h3> + +<table summary="quotation"> +<tr><td> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse">'Thou art a girl of noble nature's crowning:</div> +<div class="verse">A smile of thine is like an act of grace;</div> +<div class="verse">Thou hast no noisome looks, no pretty frowning,</div> +<div class="verse">Like daily beauties of a vulgar race.</div> +<div class="verse">When thou dost smile, a light is on thy face,</div> +<div class="verse">A clear, cool kindliness, a lunar beam</div> +<div class="verse">Of peaceful radiance, silvering o'er the stream</div> +<div class="verse">Of human thought with beauteous glory,</div> +<div class="verse">Not quite a waking truth, nor quite a dream:</div> +<div class="verse">A visitation—bright though transitory.'</div> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<div class="sign"><span class="smcap">Hartley Coleridge.</span></div> +</div> +</td></tr> +</table> + + +<p>Audrey was much disappointed by the result of her conversation +with her cousin. It was true that Michael had tried to +efface the severity of his own words by remarking that a third +interview might somewhat alter his opinion of the fascinating +widow—that he might even grow to like her in time. Audrey +knew better. Michael had a certain genius of intuition; he +made up his mind about people at once, and she had never +known him to reverse his decision. As far as regarded the +younger members of the Blake family, they would still be able +to work happily together. Michael was certainly much interested +in Kester; he had adopted him in the same manner +as she had adopted Mollie. It was a comfort also that he +approved of Mr. Blake. Michael had spoken of him with +decided approval, and without any stint or limit of praise; +nevertheless she was well aware that Michael would willingly +have restricted their intimacy, and that he saw with some +reluctance her father's growing partiality for the young master.</p> + +<p>Audrey had only spoken the simple truth when she owned +that Michael's approval was necessary to her perfect enjoyment +of her friend. She might still maintain her own opinions of +Mrs. Blake. Nevertheless, the first fine flavour of her pleasure<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">{138}</a></span> +had been destroyed by Michael's severe criticism; the delicate +bloom had been impaired. She would hold fast to her new +friend; she would even be kinder to her, as though to make up +for other people's hard speeches; but much of her enthusiasm +must be locked in her own breast.</p> + +<p>'What is the use of talking on a subject on which we +should only disagree?' she said to him a week or two afterwards, +when he had rebuked her playfully for not telling him something. +'It was only a trifling matter connected with Mrs. +Blake.'</p> + +<p>And when he heard that, Michael held his peace. He had +been thrown constantly into Mrs. Blake's company since their +first meeting, but as yet he had not seen fit to change his +opinions.</p> + +<p>But in spite of this little rift in her perfect harmony, +Audrey thoroughly enjoyed the next month; she was almost +sorry that the vacation was so near. It had been a very gay +month. Relays of visitors—distant relations or mere friends—had +been invited to Woodcote and Hillside. Mrs. Ross's +garden-party had rivalled Mrs. Charrington's, and there had +been a succession of picnics, driving parties, and small select +dinners at all the Hill houses. But in spite of her many +engagements—her afternoons on the cricket-field, the tennis +tournament, in which she and Cyril Blake won, and various +other gaieties—Audrey had not neglected Mollie. Twice a week +she devoted an hour and a half to her pupil. When the +music-lesson was over, Audrey would read French with her or +correct her exercises. She was a very conscientious mistress, +and would not allow Mollie to waste any of her time in idle +gossip. When she was putting away her books, Mollie's +voluble tongue would make amends for the enforced silence.</p> + +<p>'Oh, Miss Ross,' she exclaimed one day, 'do you know, +Cyril has given mamma such a beautiful present! You will +never guess what it is!'</p> + +<p>Audrey prudently refrained from any guesses; besides, she +was still correcting Mollie's translation.</p> + +<p>'It is a black silk dress—a real beauty, as mamma says. +She has borrowed Miss Marshall's last copy of the Queen, and +she means to make it up herself. Mamma is so clever! It is +to have a long train; at least, a moderately long train, and an +open bodice—open in front, you know—with tulle folds. +Oh, I forget exactly; but mamma explained it to me so +nicely!'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">{139}</a></span></p> + +<p>'It was very kind of your brother,' observed Audrey +gravely.</p> + +<p>For once Mollie was not checked.</p> + +<p>'Yes; isn't he a darling for thinking of it? He went to +Attenborough himself and chose it, and mamma thought he was +on the cricket-field all the time. He got her a pair of long +gloves, too. Cyril always thinks of everything. Mamma cried +when she opened the parcel, she was so pleased; and then +Cyril laughed at her. The worst of it is'—and here Mollie's +face lengthened a little—'Kester will have to wait for his new +suit, and the poor boy is so shabby! Cyril went up to his +room to tell him so; because his leg was so painful, he had +gone to bed early. Of course, Kester said he did not mind a +bit, and he would much rather that mamma had her new gown +and could go out and enjoy herself; but, all the same, it is a +little hard for Kester, is it not?'</p> + +<p>'I don't think boys care about their clothes quite so much +as girls do.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, but Kester does; he is almost as particular as Cyril. +He does love to have everything nice, and I know he is +ashamed of that old jacket. He has outgrown it, too, and the +sleeves are so short; and now he is so much with Captain +Burnett, he feels it all the more. Oh, do you know, Miss +Ross'—interrupting herself—'Captain Burnett is going to +drive Kester to Brail in his dogcart!'</p> + +<p>'That will be very nice. But, Mollie, you really must +leave off chattering; you have translated this sentence quite +wrongly. This is not one bit the sense.' And Mollie did at +last consent to hold her tongue.</p> + +<p>Audrey took her mother into her confidence that afternoon +as they were dining together, and told her the whole story +about the black silk dress. Mrs. Ross was much interested.</p> + +<p>'How very nice of him!' she said, in just the sympathetic +tone that Audrey expected to hear. 'I said from the first that +I liked Mr. Blake; I told your father so. He is a good son. +I am not a bit surprised that his mother dotes on him. I am +sure I should if he were my son;' and Mrs. Ross heaved a +gentle little sigh under her lace mantle.</p> + +<p>She knew her husband had ardently desired a son, and, +until Michael's troubles had made him almost an inmate of the +house, there had been a certain void and unfulfilled longing in +Dr. Ross's breast. Not that he ever spoke of such things; but +his wife knew him so well.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">{140}</a></span></p> + +<p>'Perhaps one day he will have a grandson,' she thought; +for her motherly imagination loved to stretch itself into the +future.</p> + +<p>'Don't you think we might ask Mrs. Blake to dinner next +week, when your cousin Rose is here?' she observed presently. +'Rosie will be charmed with her; and we could get the Cardells +to meet her, and perhaps the Vicar and Mrs. Boyle. You +know they have not been to dine with us for a long time.'</p> + +<p>'Very well, mother. I have not the slightest objection,' +returned Audrey, who had in fact been leading up to this. 'I +suppose you will ask Gage too?'</p> + +<p>'Oh, of course!' for Mrs. Ross never considered any party +complete without the presence of her eldest daughter. 'We +must find out which day will suit her best.'</p> + +<p>'I do not believe Percival will let her come,' returned +Audrey calmly. 'He says she is going out too much, and +tiring herself dreadfully. I heard him tell her that he meant +to be more strict with her for the future.'</p> + +<p>'Dear Percival, how good he is to her! I always told your +father that he would make her an excellent husband. Your +father was not a bit enthusiastic at first—he liked Percival, +and thought him an exceedingly able man; but he never did +think anyone good enough for his girls. You will find him +hard to please when your turn comes, Audrey.'</p> + +<p>'My turn will be long in coming,' she replied lightly. +'Well, if Percival prove himself a tyrant, whom do you mean +to have in Gage's place?' And then they resumed the subject +of the dinner-party.</p> + +<p>Things turned out as Audrey predicted: Mr. Harcourt +would not allow his wife to accept her mother's invitation.</p> + +<p>'She has been over-exerting herself, and must keep quiet,' +he said to his mother-in-law when he next saw her at Hillside. +'I tell her that unless she is prudent, and takes things more +quietly, she will not be fit for her journey to Scotland—and +then all our plans will be upset.'</p> + +<p>For a charming arrangement had been made for the summer +vacation. Dr. Ross had taken a cottage in the Highlands for +his family, and Mr. Harcourt had secured a smaller one, about +half a mile off, for himself and his wife. Michael was to form +part of the Ross household, and during the last week or two he +and Audrey had been putting their heads together over a benevolent +scheme for taking Kester. There was a spare room in +their cottage, and Mrs. Ross had asked Audrey if she would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">{141}</a></span> +like one of her cousins to accompany them. Audrey had hesitated +for the moment. Mollie had been in her thoughts, but +when she had hinted at this to Michael, he had said somewhat +decidedly that, in his opinion, Kester ought to be the one to +have the treat.</p> + +<p>'He would be company for me, too,' he added, 'when you +and your father go on your fishing expeditions. And he will +not be a bad third, either, when you honour us with your +company.'</p> + +<p>Audrey had a great wish to take Mollie. She thought how +the girl would enjoy those long rambles across the purple +moors, but she was open to reason: as Michael had pointed out +to her, Kester certainly needed the change more than Mollie. +It would be good for Michael to have a companion when she +and her father and Percival went on one of their long expeditions. +The boy had been drooping sadly of late—the heat +tried him—and, as Audrey knew, Biddy's homely dishes +seldom tempted his sickly appetite.</p> + +<p>Mr. Harcourt was not aware of this little plan. When he +uttered his marital protest Geraldine looked at her mother with +a sort of resigned despair.</p> + +<p>'You hear what Percy says, mother. I suppose you must +ask someone else in my place.'</p> + +<p>'But I am not going without you,' returned her husband +good-naturedly. 'Your mother would not want me, my dear, +under those circumstances. We will stay at home, like Darby +and Joan, by our own ingle-side.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, then you can ask the Drummonds,' went on Geraldine, +in a relieved voice. 'Audrey ought to have reminded you of +them, but she seems to think only of the Blakes. I suppose +you will be obliged to ask Mr. Blake, too, mother?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, certainly, my dear. Mrs. Blake would not like to +come without her son. It will be a large party, but——'</p> + +<p>'Well, it cannot be helped, I suppose; but Percy and I +think it is rather a pity——' Here Geraldine gave a slight +cough, warned by a look from her husband.</p> + +<p>'What is a pity, my dear?'</p> + +<p>'Oh, it does not matter—at least, Percy does not wish me +to speak.'</p> + +<p>'Geraldine is rather like the dog in the manger,' interrupted +Mr. Harcourt. 'Because I will not let her come to your +dinner-party, she would rather you did not have one at all. +That is it, isn't it, Jerry?'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">{142}</a></span></p> + +<p>Mrs. Ross smiled benevolently at this little sally. She +liked to hear her son-in-law's jokes. She never joked Geraldine +herself, and so she seldom saw that girlish blush that was so +becoming.</p> + +<p>When she had taken her leave, Geraldine said to her +husband:</p> + +<p>'Why did you stop me just now when I was dropping that +hint about Mr. Blake?'</p> + +<p>'Because I thought the hint premature, my dear,' he returned +drily, 'and because it is not our place to warn Mr. Blake off the +premises; he is not the first young man, and I do not expect +he will be the last, to admire Audrey.'</p> + +<p>'But, Percy, I am quite sure that Mr. Blake is too handsome +and too attractive altogether to be a harmless admirer.'</p> + +<p>'Pooh! nonsense, my love. Don't let your imagination run +away with you. Audrey is too sensible a girl to let herself fall +in love with a young fellow like Blake. Now shall I go on +with our book?' For that day Geraldine was considered an +invalid, and as her husband thought fit to indulge and make +much of her, she was not so sure she disliked her passing indisposition, +any more than Mr. Harcourt disliked playing Darby to +his handsome Joan.</p> + +<p>The dinner-party passed off well, and Mrs. Blake looked so +lovely in her new gown that she made quite a sensation, and +the Vicar observed to his wife afterwards 'that she was the +nicest and most agreeable woman he had met for a long time.'</p> + +<p>Mrs. Boyle received this eulogium a little coldly. She was +a fat, dumpy little person, with a round, good-natured face that +had once been pretty. 'Bernard might admire Mrs. Blake,' she +said to herself,—'she was the sort of woman men always raved +about; but for her part she was not sure she admired her style,' +but she had the rare magnanimity to keep her opinions to herself. +Mrs. Boyle never contradicted her husband after the +peevish manner of some wives.</p> + +<p>The term was drawing to a close now, and Mollie's face +lengthened a little every day. Audrey had mooted the scheme +to her father during a walk they had together, and Dr. Ross, +who was one of the most benevolent and kindly of men, had at +once given his consent, and had promised to speak to Michael, +who carried it through with a high hand.</p> + +<p>Great was the rejoicing in the Blake household. Poor +Kester had turned red and white by turns, and could hardly +speak a word, so intense was his surprise; but Audrey, who saw<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">{143}</a></span> +the lad's agony of embarrassment, assured him that there was no +need for him to speak, and that everything was settled.</p> + +<p>Cyril was almost as embarrassed when he came in to thank +them that evening.</p> + +<p>'I have never heard of such kindness in my life,' he said +eagerly, when he found Audrey alone; for the others were all +in the garden, as she told him. 'I will go to them directly. +Of course I must speak to Captain Burnett. I hear it is his +thought. Am I interrupting you?' looking at her open desk. +'May I stay a moment?'</p> + +<p>'Certainly, if you like.'</p> + +<p>But Audrey did not resume her seat. She stood by the +lamp, its crimson shade casting ruddy gleams over her white +dress. She had coiled her hair loosely—Audrey was given to +dressing herself hurriedly—and one long plait had become unfastened. +It looked so smooth and brown against her white +neck. At such moments Audrey certainly looked pretty. Perhaps +Cyril thought so, for he looked at her long and earnestly.</p> + +<p>'I hardly know how to thank you all,' he went on almost +abruptly. 'My mother feels the same. It is such a weight off +my mind. You know, I am going to Cornwall myself; one of +our Keble men has invited me. His father has a nice place +near Truro.'</p> + +<p>'That will be a pleasant change for you,' she observed +sympathetically.</p> + +<p>'Oh, I always turn up trumps,' he replied brightly. 'Last +Christmas, and again at Easter, I had heaps of invitations. I +was only bothering myself about Kester: he looked so seedy, +you know, and it seemed such hard lines for him, poor boy! to +see me go off and enjoy myself.'</p> + +<p>'Well, you see, Kester means to enjoy himself too.'</p> + +<p>'Don't I know that? He is a lucky fellow!' and Cyril +sighed—a good honest sigh it was, too, for Audrey heard it. +'Just fancy seven weeks in paradise!'</p> + +<p>'Well, it is very lovely there,' she answered demurely; and +then she discovered the stray lock, and pinned it up hastily.</p> + +<p>'Oh, I was not meaning the place—though, of course, everyone +knows Braemar has its advantages. I think one's happiness +depends more on the society one has. Don't you think so +too, Miss Ross?'</p> + +<p>'I daresay you are right. Well, we shall have my sister and +her husband, and Kester and Captain Burnett; so we shall be +a nice party.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">{144}</a></span></p> + +<p>'Oh yes, of course Captain Burnett is going?' returned +Cyril, in a dubious tone.</p> + +<p>'Yes; and I suppose you think he is lucky too?' and there +was a gleam of fun in Audrey's eyes.</p> + +<p>'Not more so than usual; the gate of paradise is never shut +on Captain Burnett.'</p> + +<p>But though Cyril laughed as he made this little speech, there +was no expression of mirth in his eyes. But Audrey chose to +consider it a joke.</p> + +<p>'If you talk in this manner, I shall think you envy Kester +his treat.'</p> + +<p>'I am afraid I do envy him, Miss Ross. If Kester and I +could only change places——'</p> + +<p>He checked himself as though he had said too much, and +turned to the window.</p> + +<p>'You will find them all on the circular bench,' she said, +sitting down to her desk again. 'When I have finished my +letter I will join you.' And Cyril took the hint.</p> + +<p>'I wish he would not say such things; but, of course, he is +only joking,' thought Audrey. But in her heart she knew he +was not joking. Could she be ignorant that on all possible +occasions Mr. Blake followed her like a shadow—a very quiet, +unobtrusive shadow; but, nevertheless, he seemed always near. +Could she be blind to the wistful looks that seemed to watch +her on all occasions, and that interpreted her every wish? +Perhaps no one else noticed them—Audrey fervently hoped not—unless +it were his mother. And here Audrey reddened at +the remembrance of certain vague hints and innuendoes that +had latterly made her uncomfortable, and hindered her from +going to the Gray Cottage.</p> + +<p>'Perhaps I am too friendly with him. I do not check him +sufficiently,' she thought. 'But he has never said such things +before. He ought not; I must not allow it. What would +Gage or Michael say? Dear old Michael! how excited he is +about our Scotch trip! He says he shall be so pleased to have +my undivided attention again. I wonder, have I been less nice +to Michael lately? He has certainly seemed more dull than +usual. I will make up for it—I will indeed! Michael shall +never be dull if I can help it, I mean to devote myself to him.' +And then Audrey took up her pen with a sigh. Was she really +glad the term was so nearly over? It had been such a nice +summer. Of course she would enjoy Scotland, with all her own +people round her, and there would be Kester. Kester would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">{145}</a></span> +write to his brother sometimes, and, of course, there would be +letters in reply. That would be pleasant. Oh yes, everything +was delightful! And with this final thought Audrey set herself +resolutely to work, and finished her letter just in time to +see Cyril take his leave. He had waited for her with the +utmost impatience, but when Mrs. Ross complained of chilliness, +and proposed to return to the house, he had no excuse for +lingering any longer, and Michael, with some alacrity, had +accompanied him to the gate.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">{146}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + +<h3>MOLLIE LETS THE CAT OUT OF THE BAG</h3> + +<table summary="quotation"> +<tr><td> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse">'Nothing is true but love, nor aught of worth;</div> +<div class="verse">Love is the incense which doth sweeten earth.'</div> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<div class="sign"><span class="smcap">Trench.</span></div> +</div> +</td></tr> +</table> + + +<p>'Oh dear, Miss Ross, what shall I do without you for seven +whole weeks?' was Mollie's piteous lament one morning. +Audrey was on her knees packing a huge travelling box, and +Mollie, seated on the edge of a chair, was regarding her with +round, melancholy eyes. It was the first day of the vacation, +and Rutherford looked as empty and deserted as some forsaken +city. Utter silence reigned in the lower school, from which the +fifty boys had departed; and Mrs. Draper, the matron, had +uttered more than once her usual formula of parting benediction +as the last urchin drove off: 'There, bless them! they are all +packed off, bag and baggage, thank Heaven! and not a missing +collar or sock among them'—an ejaculation that Michael once +declared was a homely Te Deum, sacred and peculiar to the +race of Rutherford matrons.</p> + +<p>Audrey straightened herself when she heard Mollie's plaintive +lament.</p> + +<p>'Now, Mollie, I thought you promised me that you would +make yourself as happy as possible.'</p> + +<p>'I said I would try,' returned Mollie, her eyes filling with +tears; 'but how can I help missing you? I do mean to do my +very best—I do indeed, Miss Ross.'</p> + +<p>'Come, that is bravely said. I know it is hard upon you, +my dear, taking Kester away.' But Mollie would not let her +finish her sentence.</p> + +<p>'Oh no; you must not say that. I am so glad for Kester +to go. Do you know, he is so pleased and excited that he can +hardly sleep when he goes to bed; and he wakes in the night<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">{147}</a></span> +to think about it. I do believe he loves Captain Burnett as +much as I love you; he is always talking about him. After +all'—here Mollie dried her eyes—'it is not so bad for me as it +is for mamma: she is always wretched without Cyril; you +can't think how restless and unlike herself she is when he is +away from her; she spends half her time writing to him or +reading his letters. Cyril always writes such nice long letters.'</p> + +<p>'And Kester and I will write to you; you will be glad of +letters, too, Mollie.'</p> + +<p>Evidently this charming idea had not occurred to Mollie, +for she darted from her place and gave Audrey a grateful hug.</p> + +<p>'Do you mean it? will you really write to me? Oh, you +dear thing! how I do love you!' with another hug. 'But you +must not tire yourself, you know, or Kester either; they need +not be long letters, but just nice little notes, that won't trouble +you.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, we will see about that,' returned Audrey, smiling. +She was touched by this thoughtfulness; it was so like Mollie's +sweet unselfishness: she never did seem to think of herself. +'You have no idea how quickly the time will pass. Think of +all the things you have promised to do for me!' for Audrey had +already made all sorts of nice little plans for her favourite. +Mollie was to have the run of the house and grounds; she was +to bring her mother to sit in the garden every afternoon if she +liked—Mrs. Blake would enjoy it; she was so fond of flowers—and +Mollie could amuse herself with the canoe. Then there +was Audrey's piano: Mollie must promise to practise her scales +and exercises on it every day; and there was a pile of delightfully +interesting books set apart for her use. She must see, +too, that her pet bullfinch was not neglected, and that her +flowers were watered; for Audrey had a pretty sitting-room of +her own. Molly soon cheered up as Audrey recapitulated these +privileges; she was young enough to be soon consoled. She +readily agreed with Audrey that her mother would enjoy wandering +about the Woodcote gardens; they would bring their books +and work, and sit under the trees on fine afternoons.</p> + +<p>'Cyril has been making mamma promise to begin Roman +history with me,' continued Mollie; 'he was so shocked when +he found out I knew nothing about Romulus and Remus. +Was it quite true about the wolf, Miss Ross? I thought it +sounded like a fable. Oh, do you know,' interrupting herself +eagerly, 'I want to tell you something—Kester said I might if +I liked: he has got two new suits of clothes.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">{148}</a></span></p> + +<p>Audrey left off packing, and looked at Mollie in some +surprise.</p> + +<p>'Did you say two suits, my dear?'</p> + +<p>'Yes. Is it not nice, Miss Ross? But Cyril said he +positively could not do with less than two—a rough suit for +every day, and a better one for Sundays. I don't think Kester +ever had two whole suits before. Mamma was pleased, but +she thought it a little extravagant of Cyril. And he bought +him boots and ties, oh, and other things beside!'</p> + +<p>'How very good of him!' and Audrey felt a warm glow of +pleasure. She longed to question Mollie, but she prudently +forebore: it was no business of hers if Mr. Blake chose to get +into debt; for where could he have got the money? But her +curiosity was soon to be satisfied; Mollie was dying to tell the +whole story.</p> + +<p>'You would say so if you knew all,' she returned, with a +mysterious air; 'mamma does not know yet. I am afraid +when she finds out she will be terribly vexed: she does so hate +Cyril to go without things. I think she would almost rather +let Kester be shabby than see Cyril without——Oh, I was +just going to bring it out!'</p> + +<p>Audrey took no notice. She was folding a dress, and the +sleeves were giving her some trouble.</p> + +<p>'Kester never said I was not to tell,' went on Mollie, as +though arguing with herself. 'I don't know why I stopped +just now. Miss Ross, have you ever noticed what a beautiful +watch and chain Cyril wears?'</p> + +<p>This was too much for Audrey.</p> + +<p>'You don't mean to say that your brother has sold his +watch?' she asked, so abruptly that Mollie stared at her.</p> + +<p>'No, not his watch; he could not do without one; but he +said the chain did not matter—a steel guard would answer the +purpose quite as well. But it was such a lovely chain, and he +was so proud of it! An old gentleman, General Fawcett, gave +them to him. He was very grateful to Cyril for saving his +grandson's life—Cyril jumped into the river, you know—and +then the General, who was very rich, sent him the watch and +chain, with such a beautiful letter. When Cyril saw them he +was almost ashamed to accept them, he said they must have +cost so much.'</p> + +<p>'What a pity to part with such a gift!' murmured Audrey, +busying herself over another dress.</p> + +<p>'Yes; but, you see, Cyril had so little money, not half<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">{149}</a></span> +enough to pay for all Kester wanted—and he had bought that +silk dress, too. Mamma would have had him get the clothes on +credit, but Cyril has such a horror of debt. At first he would +not let us know anything about it—he took Kester to the shop +and had him fitted—but at last he was obliged to tell, because +Kester missed Cyril's gold Albert chain. Kester looked ready +to cry when he heard it was sold. He did think it such a pity, +and he knew mamma would be so vexed. But Cyril only +laughed at us both, and said he did not care about jewellery—he +would be very much ashamed if Kester went to Scotland in +his shabby old clothes; and then he begged us both to say +nothing to mamma unless she missed the chain—she will not +yet, because Cyril has sent his watch to be cleaned.'</p> + +<p>'Mollie, I am really afraid that you ought not to have told +me this,' returned Audrey gravely; but there was a wonderful +brightness in her eyes, as though the story pleased her. 'I +think you ought to have kept your brother's secret.'</p> + +<p>'But he never said it was a secret, except from mamma,' +pleaded Mollie in self-defence; 'and I wanted you to know, +because it was so dear of Cyril. But he is just like that; he +will do anything for Kester.'</p> + +<p>'But, all the same, I hope you will not tell anyone else;' +and as Mollie looked disturbed at this, she went on: 'it will +be quite safe with me, you know. People so often tell me +their little secrets, and your brother need not know that you +have told me.</p> + +<p>'Why, do you think he will mind? Oh no, Miss Ross! I +am sure you are wrong about that. I was talking to him one +evening about you, and I remember I said that I could not +help telling you things, because you were so nice and kind; +and Cyril answered, quite seriously, "You could never have a +better friend than Miss Ross. You will learn nothing but +good from her—tell her all you like. There is no one of +whom I think more highly." And then he kissed me quite +affectionately.'</p> + +<p>'But all the same, Mollie, I think you had better not +let him know that you have told me—I mean it would only +embarrass him;' and here Audrey got up in a hurry and went +to her wardrobe for something she had forgotten, and when she +came back, it was to remind Mollie of the lateness of the +hour.</p> + +<p>'But this is not good-bye, you know. We shall stop at the +Gray Cottage to-morrow morning, to pick up Kester and his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">{150}</a></span> +portmanteau.' And then, with some little difficulty, she dismissed +Mollie.</p> + +<p>Audrey intended to pay a parting visit to her friend, Mr. +O'Brien, that evening. Dr. Ross and Michael had gone up to +London for the day, and had arranged to sleep in town, and +Mr. Harcourt would escort the ladies and look after their +luggage until they joined them.</p> + +<p>Audrey had arranged with her mother that an informal +meal should be served in the place of the ordinary late dinner, +and that even this should be postponed until nine. It was +impossible to walk to Brail in the heat of the afternoon—the +weather was sultry, even at Rutherford, and Audrey proposed +not to start until after an early tea.</p> + +<p>When she was ready she went in search of Booty, who had +been left under her guardianship. She knew exactly where she +should find him—lying on Michael's bed. Booty was always a +spectacle of woe during his master's brief absences. At the +sound of a footstep or an opening door below, his short legs +would be heard pattering downstairs; there would be an +eager search in every room, then, with a whine of disappointment +and a heart-broken expression in his brown eyes, Booty +would slink back again to Michael's room to lie on his pillow, +or mount guard over some relic—a tie, a glove, or even an old +shoe—something that he could identify as his master's property.</p> + +<p>Audrey was the only one who could comfort Booty for the +loss of that loved presence; but even with her, Booty was still +a most unhappy dog. He plucked up a little spirit, however, +at the sight of her hat, and jumped off the bed. His master +was clearly not in the house; perhaps the road his temporary +mistress meant to take would lead to him—even a dog wearies +of moping, and Booty's short legs needed their usual exercise. +He followed her, therefore, without reluctance, and even lapped +a little water out of his special dish; but there was no joyous +bark, no unrestrained gambols, as he trotted after her with his +soft eyes looking out for that worshipped form that was to +Booty the one aim and object of life, for whose special delectation +and delight he had been created. Mrs. Ross always said +it made her quite miserable to see Booty when Michael was +away, and, indeed, Michael never dared to leave him for many +days together. If anything had happened to his master the +little animal would have pined and fretted himself to death.</p> + +<p>'I suppose no one will ever love me as that creature does,' +Michael once observed to Audrey; 'he has simply no will or<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">{151}</a></span> +life of his own. What a faithful friend a dog is! I believe +Booty understands me better than most people. We have long +conversations together sometimes—I talk, and Booty answers +by signs.'</p> + +<p>Audrey enjoyed her walk, but she was afraid Booty was +tired and would need a long rest. When they reached Vineyard +Cottage she found Mrs. Baxter mending stockings in the +porch.</p> + +<p>'Father has gone out for a little stroll, Miss Ross,' she said, +rising, with her usual subdued smile. 'He will be back +directly. Will you come into the parlour and rest?'</p> + +<p>'I would rather stay here,' returned Audrey. 'I am so +fond of this pretty old porch, and this bench is so comfortable. +Booty is tired, Mrs. Baxter; he has been fretting because his +master chose to go up to London to-day, and his low spirits +have made him languid. Look at him when I say Michael—there!' +as the dog started and sat up eagerly; 'he knows his +name, you see.'</p> + +<p>'Poor thing! He is as intelligent as a Christian—more +intelligent than some Christians I know. The ways of +Providence are strange, Miss Ross, putting a loving heart into +an animal like that, and leaving some human beings without +one—unless it be a heart of stone;' and here Mrs. Baxter +sighed heavily and snapped her thread.</p> + +<p>'I hope things have been quiet lately,' observed Audrey, +taking off her hat.</p> + +<p>'You mean, if Joe has been behaving himself?—which is a +question I can thankfully answer at present. Joe has not been +troubling me again, Miss Ross. I think father frightened him +that time. Joe was always a coward; it is an evil conscience +that makes him a coward. There is nothing else so frights a +man. Joe couldn't treat a woman as he has treated me without +feeling his conscience prick him sometimes.'</p> + +<p>'No, indeed, Mrs. Baxter. Let us hope that he will repent +some day.'</p> + +<p>'I tell father his repentance will come too late. We can't +sow tares and reap wheat in this world, Miss Ross. "The +wicked flee when no man pursueth." I always think of Joe +when I read that verse. Oh, there is always comfort to be +found in the Scriptures. "A woman forsaken and grieved in +spirit"—do you remember those words, Miss Ross? I came +upon them quite suddenly one evening as I was sitting in this +very porch, and I said out loud to myself, as one does sometimes,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">{152}</a></span> +"Those words just fit you, Priscilla Baxter; they might +be written for you."'</p> + +<p>'That makes the Bible such a wonderful book,' returned +Audrey thoughtfully. 'Every form of grief finds expression +and comfort there; there is food for every mind, every age, +every nationality.'</p> + +<p>'I never saw anyone to beat father in reading the Bible, +Miss Ross. You would be surprised to see how kindly he +takes to it. I have known him read the Prodigal Son to +Hannah and me on Sunday evening with the tears running +down his face, and he not knowing it more than a baby, for +all Hannah's sniffs. It is his favourite reading—it is, indeed, +Miss Ross, though his voice does get choky sometimes.'</p> + +<p>'He is thinking of his poor brother Mat.'</p> + +<p>'Begging your pardon, Miss Ross, I would rather not +mention Uncle Mat,' returned Mrs. Baxter stiffly. 'Joe has +been a thorn in my side, heaven knows! and his wickedness +has reduced me, his wedded wife, to skin and bone; but even +Joe, with all his villainies, has not made himself a felon, and I +can still bear his name without blushing—and so I have told +father a score of times when he wants to make out that Joe +is the blacker of the two.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, I would not hurt him by speaking against his brother! +Do you know, Mrs. Baxter, he loves him so dearly still.'</p> + +<p>'Yes; but that is father's craze, Miss Ross,' she replied +coldly. 'Even a good man has his little weakness, and, being +a Churchwoman, and I trust humbly a believer, I would not +deny that Providence has given me as good a father as ever +breathed this mortal air; but we are all human, Miss Ross, +and human nature has its frailties, and father would be a +wiser and a happier man if he did not set such store by an +ungrateful and good-for-nothing brother, who is a shame to his +own flesh and blood, and whom it is a bitterness to me to own +as my Uncle Mat.'</p> + +<p>'Priscilla!' ejaculated a grieved voice near them; and, +looking round, the two women saw Mr. O'Brien standing within +a few paces of them. No one had heard his footsteps except +Booty, whose instincts were always gentlemanly, and who, in +spite of his deep dejection, had given him a friendly greeting.</p> + +<p>Mr. O'Brien's good-natured face looked unusually grave.</p> + +<p>'Good-evening, Miss Ross. I thought we should see you +before your flitting. I am sorry I stepped out for a bit, and +so lost your company. Prissy, my girl, I don't want to find<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">{153}</a></span> +fault with you, but I'll not deny that it hurts me to hear you +speak against Mat, poor old chap! when he is not here to +answer for himself. It is woman-like, but it is not fair'—looking +at them with mild reproach—'and it cuts me to hear +it. It is not what your mother, my blessed Susan, would +have done. She was never hard upon Mat—never!'</p> + +<p>Mrs. Baxter gave a penitent little sniff, and a faint flush +came to her sallow face; with all her faults, she was devoted +to her father. But she was a true daughter of Eve, and +this well-deserved reproach only moved her to feeble recrimination.</p> + +<p>'Well, father, I was always taught that listeners never +heard any good of themselves. Not that the proverb holds +strictly true in this case; but if Uncle Mat were standing +in your place, and heard what I said to Miss Ross, he would +not deny I was speaking the truth—being always praised for +my truthfulness and shaming the devil as much as possible; +and if you are for saying that Uncle Mat was a kind brother +to one who acted as his own father, I am bound to say that +I do not agree with you.'</p> + +<p>'No, my lass; I am free to confess that Mat might have +been kinder, and that as far as that goes you are speaking Gospel +truth; but my Susan and I have been used to say the Lord's +Prayer together every night; and Susan—that's your mother, +Prissy—would sometimes whisper as we knelt down, "Tom, +are we sure we have quite forgiven everybody? I was put +out this afternoon with Mat;" and sometimes her voice would +tremble a bit when she came to the words, "Forgive us our +trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass against us."' +And Mr. O'Brien took off his straw hat with old-fashioned +reverence.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Baxter gave a little choke.</p> + +<p>'I wish I had left it unsaid, father, if you are going to +take on like this,' she observed remorsefully. 'Sooner than +grieve you, I would hold my tongue about Uncle Mat for the +remainder of my natural life. There is nothing I would do +sooner than have my mother quoted to me like a Scripture +saint, as though I were not worthy to tie her shoe-string.'</p> + +<p>'Nay, nay, my lass, you are misunderstanding my meaning.'</p> + +<p>'No, father, begging your pardon, I am not; and, as I +have often told Miss Ross, I never feel worthy to be the offspring +of such parents. Miss Ross'—turning to her—'my +father is a little low this evening, and I have put him out of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">{154}</a></span> +his usual way. I will leave you to talk to him a bit while +I open a bottle of our white currant wine to hearten you for +your walk home.'</p> + +<p>'Poor Prissy!' observed Mr. O'Brien, shaking his gray +head; 'she is a worrier, as Susan used to say; but her bark +is worse than her bite. She is a good soul, and I would not +change her for one of the lively sort.'</p> + +<p>'She is really very sorry for having pained you.'</p> + +<p>'Sorry! Bless my heart, you don't know Prissy. She +will be that contrite for showing the sharp edge of her tongue +that there will be nothing she will not do to make amends. +It will be, "Father, what will you have?" and, "Father, do +you think you could enjoy that?" from morning to night, as +though I were a new-born babe to be tended. No, no, you +are not up to Prissy. She has not got her mother's sweet, +charitable nature—my Susan, bless her dear heart! always +thought the best of everybody—but Prissy is a good girl, for +all that.'</p> + +<p>Audrey smiled as she drew down a tendril of jasmine to +inhale its honeyed fragrance. There was not much girlhood +left in the faded, sorrowful woman who had left them just +now; but in the father's fond eyes Priscilla would always be +a girl. Then, in her serious, sweet way, she began to talk +to her old friend—drawing him out, and listening to those +vague, far old memories that seemed dearer to him day by +day, until he had grown soothed and comforted.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Baxter joined them by and by, but she did not interrupt +them, except to press another slice of the home-made +cake on Audrey.</p> + +<p>When she rose to go, father and daughter accompanied +her to the gate, and wished her a hearty God-speed.</p> + +<p>'Good-bye, my dear old friends,' she returned cheerfully; +'in seven weeks I shall hope to see you again. Take care of +Mr. O'Brien, Mrs. Baxter.'</p> + +<p>'Oh yes, Miss Ross, I will take care of him. It is not +as if one could have a second parent. Father, put on your +hat; the dews are falling, and you are not as young as you +used to be.'</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">{155}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2> + +<h3>AMONG THE BRAIL LANES</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>'Discreet reserve in a woman, like the distances kept by royal personages, +contributes to maintain the proper reverence. Most of our pleasures +are prized in proportion to the difficulty with which they are obtained.'—<span class="smcap">Fordyce.</span></p> + +<p>'A very slight spark will kindle a flame when everything lies open to +catch it.'—<span class="smcap">Sir Walter Scott.</span></p></div> + + +<p>While Audrey was talking to her old friend in the jasmine-covered +porch of Vineyard Cottage, Cyril Blake was sitting on +a stile in one of the Brail lanes, trying to solve a difficult +problem.</p> + +<p>A domestic matter had come under his notice that very +afternoon—a very ordinary occurrence, if he had only known +it—and had caused him much vexation. Not being more +clear-sighted than other young men of his age, it is extremely +doubtful whether he would have noticed it at all but for a few +words spoken by Miss Ross.</p> + +<p>A week or two ago he had observed casually to her, as they +were standing together on the cricket-field, that he thought +Mollie was growing very fast.</p> + +<p>'I suppose she is strong,' he added doubtfully; 'but she has +certainly seemed very tired lately'—this reflection being forced +upon him by a remark of Kester's, 'that Mollie had such a lot +of headaches now.'</p> + +<p>'I am afraid Mollie is very often tired,' returned Audrey +rather gravely.</p> + +<p>Now, there was nothing in this simple remark to arrest +Cyril's attention; but somehow Audrey's tone implied a good +deal, and, though no further word passed between them on the +subject, Cyril was left with an uncomfortable impression, though +it was too vague and intangible to be understood by him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">{156}</a></span></p> + +<p>But on this afternoon in question he was rummaging among +his possessions for some studs he had mislaid, and, thinking +Mollie would help him in the search, he went in quest of her. +He found her in the close little kitchen, ironing a pile of +handkerchiefs and starched things. The place felt like an oven +that hot summer's afternoon, and poor Mollie's face was sadly +flushed; she looked worried and overheated, and it was then +that Audrey's words flashed on him with a sort of electrical +illumination—'I am afraid Mollie is very often tired.'</p> + +<p>'Did you want me, Cyril?' asked Mollie, a little wearily, as +she tested another iron and then put it down again.</p> + +<p>'Yes—no, it does not matter,' rather absently. 'Mollie, is +there no one else who can do that work? This place is like a +brick-kiln.'</p> + +<p>'Well, there is only Biddy, you know, and she does get +up the things so badly. You remember how you grumbled +about your handkerchiefs—and no wonder, for they looked as +though they were rough-dried—and so mamma said I had +better do them for the future, because I could iron so nicely;' +and Mollie gave a look of pride at the snowy pile beside her.</p> + +<p>But Cyril was not so easily mollified.</p> + +<p>'I would rather have my things badly done than see you +slave in this fashion,' he returned, with unwonted irritation. +'Mollie, does Miss Ross know you do this sort of thing?'</p> + +<p>'Oh yes, of course; I always tell Miss Ross everything.'</p> + +<p>'She must have a pretty good opinion of us by this time,' +in a vexed voice.</p> + +<p>'She knows it cannot be helped,' returned Mollie simply. +'She did say one day that she was very sorry for me, when +she saw how tired I was—oh, she was so dear and sweet that +day!—and once when I told her how my back ached, and I +could not help crying a little, she said she would like to speak +to mamma about me, but that she knew it was no business of +hers.'</p> + +<p>'Anyhow, I shall make it my business,' returned her brother +decidedly; and he marched off to the drawing-room.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Blake was sitting in the window, marking some of +Kester's new socks. She looked very cool and comfortable; +the room was sweet with the scent of flowers. The contrast +between her and Mollie struck Cyril very forcibly, and when +his mother looked up at him with one of her caressing smiles, +he did not respond with his customary brightness.</p> + +<p>'Mother, I want to talk to you about Mollie,' he said with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">{157}</a></span> +unusual abruptness, as he threw himself down in a cushioned +chair opposite his mother's little work-table.</p> + +<p>'Yes, dear,' she returned tranquilly, pausing to admire an +exquisitely-worked initial.</p> + +<p>'I found her in the kitchen just now, with her face the +colour of a peony, ironing out a lot of things. The place was +like a furnace; I could not have stood it for a quarter of an +hour. Surely, mother, there is no need for Mollie to slave in +this way.'</p> + +<p>'Do you call ironing a few fine things slavery?' replied Mrs. +Blake in an amused voice. 'In our great-grandmothers' time +girls did more than that. Mollie is not overworked, I assure +you.'</p> + +<p>'Then what makes her look so done up?'</p> + +<p>'Oh, that is nothing! She is growing so fast, you know; +and growing girls have that look. Mollie is as strong as a +horse, really—at her age I was far weaker. Mollie is a good +child, but she is a little given to grumbling and making a fuss +about trifles.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, I don't agree with you there.'</p> + +<p>'That is because you do not understand girls,' returned his +mother composedly. 'But you may safely leave Mollie to me. +Am I likely to overwork one of my own children? Should I +be worthy of the name of mother?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, but you might not see your way to help it—that is, +as long as you persist in your ridiculous resolution of keeping +Biddy. Why, she ought to have been shelved long ago.'</p> + +<p>'That is my affair, Cyril,' replied Mrs. Blake with unusual +dignity.</p> + +<p>She hardly ever spoke to him in that voice, and he looked +up a little surprised.</p> + +<p>'I hope we are not going to quarrel, motherling,' his pet +name for her.</p> + +<p>'Do we ever quarrel, darling? No, you only vex me when +you talk of sending poor old Biddy away. I could not do it, +Cyril. I am not naturally a hard-hearted woman, and it would +be sheer cruelty to turn off my old nurse. Where would she +go, poor old thing? And you know yourself we cannot afford +another servant.'</p> + +<p>'Not at present, certainly.'</p> + +<p>'Perhaps we may in the future—who knows?' returned +Mrs. Blake with restored gaiety; 'and until then a little work +will not hurt Mollie. Do you know, when I was a girl, my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">{158}</a></span> +mother always insisted on my sister Dora and myself making +our own beds—she said it would straighten our backs—and she +liked us to run up and down stairs and make ourselves useful, +because the exercise would improve our carriage and complexion. +Dora had such a pretty figure, poor girl! and I think mine is +passable,' drawing herself up to give effect to her words.</p> + +<p>'You, mother? You are as slim and as graceful as a girl +now!' returned Cyril admiringly. Then, recurring to his subject +with a man's persistence, 'I don't believe you did half so +much as poor Mollie does.'</p> + +<p>'And what does she do?' asked Mrs. Blake, still mildly +obstinate. 'She only supplements poor old Biddy. A little +dusting, a little bed-making; now and then, perhaps, a trifle of +ironing. What is that for a strong, healthy girl like Mollie?'</p> + +<p>'Yes; but Mollie has to be educated,' replied Cyril, only +half convinced by this plausible statement. 'These things may +be only trifles, as you say, but they take up a good deal of +time. You know, mother dear, how often I complain of the +desultory way Mollie's lessons are carried on.'</p> + +<p>'That is because Mollie and I are such wretched managers,' +she returned eagerly. 'I am a feckless body, I know; and +Mollie takes after me—we both hate running in grooves.'</p> + +<p>'Mollie is young enough to learn better ways,' was Cyril's +grave answer. 'As for you, mother, you are hopeless,' with a +shake of his head.</p> + +<p>'Yes, you will never mend or alter me,' she rejoined with +a light laugh. 'I am Irish to the backbone. Now, my boy, +you really must not keep me any longer with all this nonsense +about Mollie. I have to go up to Rosendale, you know; Mrs. +Cardell begged me to sit with her a little, and I am late now. +Mollie will give you your tea. Come—have you forgiven your +mother?' passing her white taper fingers over his dark hair as +she spoke.</p> + +<p>Cyril's only answer was to draw her face down to his.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Blake smiled happily at him as she left the room—what +did she care if only everything were right between her and +her idolised boy? But Cyril was not so satisfied. With all +his love for his mother, he was by no means blind to her many +faults. He knew she was far too partial in her treatment of +her children—that she was often thoughtless of Kester's comfort, +and a little hard in her judgment of him; and she was +not always judicious with respect to Mollie. At times she was +lax, and left the girl to her own devices; but in certain moods,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">{159}</a></span> +when Cyril had been speaking to her, perhaps, there would be +nothing right. It was then that Mollie was accused of untidiness +and feckless ways, when hints of idleness were dropped, +and strict rules, never to be carried out, were made. Mollie +must do a copy every day; she wrote worse than a child of +ten. Her ignorance of geography was disgraceful; she had no +idea where the Tigris was, and she could not name half the +counties in Scotland, and so on. For four-and-twenty hours +Mollie would be drilled, put through her facings, lectured, and +made generally miserable; but by the next morning or so the +educational cleaning would be over. 'Mother wasn't in a mood +for teaching,' Mollie would say in her artless fashion as she +carried away her books.</p> + +<p>'No; he could not alter his mother's nature,' Cyril thought +sadly. He could only do the best he could for them all. He +was clever enough to see that his mother was wilfully shutting +her eyes to her own mismanagement of Mollie, and that she +preferred drifting on in this happy-go-lucky fashion. With all +her energy and fits of industry, she was extremely indolent, and +never liked taking trouble about anything. No; it was no use +talking to her any more about Mollie, unless he had some +definite suggestion to make—and then it was that he wondered +if Miss Ross would help him; she always helped everyone, and +he knew that she was in full possession of the facts.</p> + +<p>'I am not a bit ashamed of our poverty,' thought Cyril, as +he plunged down the sweet, dewy lanes. 'One day I shall get +on, and be any man's equal; but the only thing that troubles +me is the idea that she thinks us too hard on Mollie. She has +never said so, of course; but somehow it is so easy to read her +thoughts—she is more transparent than other people.' And +Cyril heaved a deep sigh. 'I wonder what she will think when +she sees me. I do not want her to know that I am looking +out for her. Everyone has a right to take an evening walk if +he likes; and, of course, the roads are open to all. Even without +this excuse I meant to do it; for after this evening——' +And then Cyril groaned to himself as he thought of the seven +long blank weeks that stretched before him, when a certain +sweet face would be missing; and at that moment he espied +the gleam of a white dress between the hedgerows.</p> + +<p>Now, Audrey was right in saying Booty was a spoilt dog. +He was as full of whimsies this evening as spoilt children +generally are. He had testified extreme delight when Audrey +had closed the gate of Vineyard Cottage behind her. By some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">{160}</a></span> +curious canine train of reasoning he had arrived at the conviction +that his master was at Woodcote—had probably arrived +there during their absence; and with this pleasing notion he +pattered cheerfully after Audrey down the long grass lanes. +But Audrey walked fast, and being rather late, she walked all +the faster; and Booty, who was used to Michael's leisurely +pace, began to lag behind and to hold out signals of distress. +'Oh, Booty, Booty!' exclaimed Audrey, regarding the little +animal indulgently; 'and so I am to carry you, just because +your legs are so absurdly short that they tire easily.' Evidently +this was what Booty wished, for he sat up and waved his paws +in an irresistible way. 'Very well, I will carry you, old fellow; +but you are dreadfully spoilt, you know.'</p> + +<p>'Indeed, you shall do nothing of the kind, Miss Ross;' and +Cyril jumped off the stile. 'I will carry him for you;' and +Cyril hoisted him up on his arm, being rewarded by an affectionate +dab on his nose from Booty's busy tongue.</p> + +<p>Audrey had coloured slightly when she first caught sight of +Cyril's tall figure; but she suppressed her surprise.</p> + +<p>'Is this a favourite walk of yours?' she asked carelessly, as +though it were a usual thing to meet Mr. Blake wandering +about the Brail lanes.</p> + +<p>Cyril was quite equal to the occasion. He hardly knew +which was his favourite walk; he was trying them all by turns. +He had taken his mother to Brail once, and she had been +much pleased with the village. There was one cottage she +thought very pretty—indeed, they had both fallen in love with +it; it had a quaint old porch, smothered in jasmine.</p> + +<p>'That is Vineyard Cottage, where my friends the O'Briens +live,' replied Audrey, only half deceived by this smooth account.</p> + +<p>It was clear that Mr. Blake wished her to think that only +purest accident had guided his feet in the direction of Brail; +but Audrey was sharp-witted, and she knew Mollie had a +tongue; it would be so natural for her to say, 'Miss Ross is +going to see some old friends at Brail—she told me so; but it +is so hot that she will not go until after tea.' Once before she +had been sure that Mollie's chattering had set Mr. Blake on +her track. She must be more careful how she talked to Mollie +for the future.</p> + +<p>But here Cyril, who was somewhat alarmed at her gravity, +and who half guessed at her thoughts, began to speak about +Mollie in an anxious, brotherly manner that restored Audrey +at once to ease.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">{161}</a></span></p> + +<p>'So you see all the difficulty,' he continued after he had +briefly stated the facts; 'and I should be so grateful if you +could help me to any solution. I ought to apologise for +troubling you, but I know you take such an interest in +Mollie.'</p> + +<p>'I do indeed,' she returned cordially, and in a moment +every trace of constraint vanished from her manner; 'and, to +tell you the truth, Mr. Blake, I have felt rather anxious about +her lately. Even my mother has noticed how far from strong +she looks.'</p> + +<p>'But that is because she is growing so fast,' he replied, unconsciously +repeating Mrs. Blake's words. 'You see, Miss +Ross, my mother absolutely refuses to part with Biddy. I +have argued with her again and again, but nothing will induce +her to send the old woman away. She also declares that she +cannot afford another servant, so what is to be done?' and +Cyril sighed as though he had all the labours of Hercules +before him.</p> + +<p>Audrey looked at him very kindly; she was much touched +by this confidence. How few young men, she thought, +would have been so simple and straightforward! There was +no false pride in the way he mentioned their small means and +homely contrivances; he spoke to her quite frankly, as though +he knew she was their friend, and as though he trusted her. +It was the purest flattery, the most delicious homage he could +have offered her. Audrey felt her sympathy quicken as she +listened.</p> + +<p>'I would not trouble about it just now,' she observed +cheerfully—'not until the vacation is over. Mollie will have +very little to do while you and Kester are away.'</p> + +<p>'That is true,' he returned, in a relieved tone; for he had +not thought of that.</p> + +<p>'When we all come back we might hit upon some plan. +Do you think your mother would object to having in a woman +two or three times a week to help Biddy? I think I know a +person who would just do—Rebecca Armstrong. She does not +want to leave home; but she is a strong, capable girl, and +could easily do all the rough work—and she is very moderate +in her charges. I could inquire about her, if you like.'</p> + +<p>'It is an excellent idea,' he replied, inwardly wondering +why it had not occurred to his mother. 'I am so grateful to +you for suggesting it. I am quite sure my mother will not +object; so by all means let us have this Rebecca.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">{162}</a></span></p> + +<p>'Shall I tell your mother about her?'</p> + +<p>'Perhaps I had better speak to her first; there is no hurry, +as you say. Really, Miss Ross, you have lifted a burden off +my mind.'</p> + +<p>'I am so glad!' with a smile. 'You see, Mr. Blake, it will +be so nice for Mollie to have her mornings to herself. She has +told me two or three times that she finds it impossible to work +in the afternoon, there are so many interruptions; and by that +time she is generally so tired—or stupid, as she calls it—that +she cannot even add up her sums.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, we will alter all that!' replied Cyril lightly.</p> + +<p>He had discharged his duty, and now he did not want to +talk about Mollie any more. From the first he had always +felt conscious of a feeling of well-being, of utter contentment, +when he was in the presence of this girl; it made him happy +only to be with her. But this evening they were so utterly +alone; the whole world was shut out by those barriers of grassy +lanes and still green meadows, with their groups of slowly-feeding +cattle.</p> + +<p>The evening air was full of dewy freshness, and only the +twittering of birds broke the stillness. A subtle sweetness +seemed to distil through the young man's veins as he glanced +at his companion; involuntarily, his voice softened.</p> + +<p>'I wonder where you will be this time to-morrow?' he said, +rather abruptly.</p> + +<p>'We are to sleep at York, you know. Geraldine wants to +see the Minster.'</p> + +<p>'Oh yes, I remember; Captain Burnett told me;' and then +he began questioning her about Braemar. Could she describe +it to him? He had never been in Scotland, and he would +like to picture the place to himself. He should ask Kester to +send him a photograph or two.</p> + +<p>Audrey was quite willing to satisfy him. She had been +there already, and had seen their cottage. She could tell him +all about their two parlours, and the little garden running down +to the beck. But Cyril's curiosity was insatiable; he wanted +to know presently how she would employ herself and what +books she would read.</p> + +<p>'For you will have wet days,' he added—'saft days, I +think they call them—and then time will hang heavily on your +hands unless you have plenty of books.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, Michael has seen to that,' she replied brightly.</p> + +<p>Somehow, Michael's name was perpetually cropping up.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">{163}</a></span> +'My cousin and I mean to do that,' or 'Michael means to help +me with that,' until Cyril's face grew slightly lugubrious.</p> + +<p>True, he tried to console himself with the remembrance of +Audrey's words that she and Geraldine looked upon Michael as +a sort of brother; still, he never did quite approve of this sort +of adopted relationship. It was always a mistake, he thought; +and in time people found it out for themselves.</p> + +<p>Of course he was Miss Ross's cousin—or, rather, her father's +cousin—but even that did not explain matters comfortably to +his mind; and when a man has a Victoria Cross, and is looked +upon in the light of a hero, it is a little difficult for other men +not to envy him.</p> + +<p>Cyril began to feel less happy. The walk was nearly at an +end, too. Some of the light and cheerfulness seemed to fade +out of the landscape; a chill breath permeated the summer +air.</p> + +<p>But Audrey went on talking in her lively, girlish way. She +was quite unconscious of the sombre tinge that had stolen over +Cyril's thoughts.</p> + +<p>'Yes, to-morrow we shall be more than a hundred miles +away; and the next day you will be <i>en route</i> for Cornwall.'</p> + +<p>'I suppose so.'</p> + +<p>'You will have a very pleasant time, I hope.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, I daresay it will be pleasant enough; the house will +be full of company—at least, Hackett says so. His people are +very hospitable.'</p> + +<p>'Are there any daughters?'</p> + +<p>'Oh yes; there are three girls—the three Graces, as they +were called when they came up to Commemoration.'</p> + +<p>'Indeed; were they so handsome?'</p> + +<p>'Some of our men thought so,' with a fine air of indifference. +'I know Baker was smitten with one of them; it is going to +be a match, I believe. That is Henrietta, the eldest.'</p> + +<p>'I suppose she was the handsomest?'</p> + +<p>'Oh dear no! Miss Laura is far better looking; and so is +the youngest, Miss Frances. In my opinion Miss Frances is +far more taking than either of her sisters.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, indeed! I think you will have a pleasant time, Mr. +Blake.'</p> + +<p>'Well, I cannot say I am looking forward to it. I am afraid +it will be rather a bore than otherwise. I would much rather +go on working.'</p> + +<p>'I don't think you would find Rutherford very lively.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">{164}</a></span></p> + +<p>'Oh, I did not mean that!' with a reproachful glance at +her that Audrey found rather embarrassing. 'You surely +could not have thought I wished to remain here now'—a +dangerous emphasis on 'now.' 'Why, it would be the abomination +of desolation, a howling wilderness.'</p> + +<p>'I thought you were fond of Rutherford.'</p> + +<p>Audrey was not particularly brilliant in her remarks just +now; she was not good at this sort of fencing. She had a dim +idea that she ought to discourage this sort of thing; but she +did so hate snubbing anyone, and, in spite of his youth, Mr. +Blake was rather formidable.</p> + +<p>'So I do—I love Rutherford!' he returned, with such +vehemence that Audrey was startled, and Booty tried anxiously +to lick him again. 'It was a blessed day that brought us all +here—I wonder how often I say that to myself—but all the +same——' he paused, seemed to recollect himself, and went on—'it +must be very dull in vacation time.'</p> + +<p>'Oh yes, of course,' she said quickly. It was rather a tame +conclusion to his sentence; but Audrey breathed more freely. +She was almost glad they had reached Rutherford, and that in +a few minutes Woodcote would be in view.</p> + +<p>They were both a little silent after this, and by and by +Cyril put Booty down.</p> + +<p>'Good-bye,' observed Audrey very gently, as she extended +her hand. 'Thank you so much for being so good to Booty; +and please give my love to your mother and Mollie.'</p> + +<p>'Good-bye,' murmured Cyril; and for a moment he held her +hand very tightly. If his eyes said a little too eloquently that +he knew he should not see her again for a long time, Audrey +did not see it, for her own were downcast. That strong, warm +pressure of Cyril's hand had been a revelation, and a quick, +sensitive blush rose to her face as she turned silently away.</p> + +<p>'That is over,' thought Cyril to himself, as he strode +through the silent street in the summer twilight; 'and now +for seven long blank weeks. Am I mad to-night? would it +ever be possible? It is like the new heaven and the new earth +only to think of it!' finished the young man, delirious with +this sweet intoxication of possible and impossible dreams.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">{165}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> + +<h3>ON A SCOTCH MOOR</h3> + +<table summary="quotation"> +<tr><td> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse">'Time, so complained of,</div> +<div class="verse">Who to no one man</div> +<div class="verse">Shows partiality,</div> +<div class="verse">Brings round to all men</div> +<div class="verse">Some undimm'd hours.'</div> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<div class="sign"><span class="smcap">Matthew Arnold.</span></div> +</div> +</td></tr> +</table> + + +<p>In future days Audrey always looked back upon those seven +weeks at Braemar with the same feelings with which one +recalls the memory of some lake embosomed in hills, that +one has seen sleeping in the sunlight, and in which only +tranquil images were reflected—the branch of some drooping +sapling, or some bird's wing as it skimmed across the glassy +surface.</p> + +<p>Just so one day after another glided away in smooth enjoyment +and untroubled serenity, and not a discordant breath +ruffled the two households.</p> + +<p>The house that Dr. Ross had taken had originally been two +good-sized cottages, and though the rooms were small, there +were plenty of them; and a little careful adjustment of the +scanty furniture, and a few additional nicknacks, transformed +the parlour into a pleasant sitting-room. Geraldine wondered +and admired when she came across, the first morning after their +arrival. Audrey had arranged her own and Michael's books on +the empty shelves; the little mirror, and indeed the whole +mantelpiece, was festooned and half hidden with branches laden +with deep crimson rowan-berries, mixed with heather and silvery-leafed +honesty; a basket of the same rowan-berries occupied the +centre of the round table; an Oriental scarf draped the ugly +horsehair sofa, and a comfortable-looking rug was thrown over +the shabby easy-chair. The fishing-tackle, butterfly-nets, pipes,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">{166}</a></span> +and all other heterogeneous matters, were consigned to a small +bare apartment, known as 'Michael's den,' and which soon became +a lumber-room.</p> + +<p>Geraldine looked at her sister's handiwork with great +approval. She considered her father's household was magnificently +lodged; she and her husband had taken up their quarters +in a much less commodious cottage—their tiny parlour would +hardly hold four people comfortably, and the ceiling was so low +that Mr. Harcourt always felt as though he must knock his +head against the rafters. When any of the Ross party called +on them, they generally adjourned to the small sloping garden, +and conversed among the raspberry-bushes.</p> + +<p>It was delightful to see Geraldine's enjoyment of these +primitive surroundings. The young mistress of Hillside seemed +transformed into another person. Percival's clever contrivances, +their little makeshifts, their odd picnic life, were all fruitful +topics of conversation.</p> + +<p>'And then I have him all to myself, without any tiresome +boys,' she would say to her mother. 'It is just like another +honeymoon.'</p> + +<p>Geraldine's one grievance was that she was not strong enough +to share her husband's excursions. She had to stay with her +mother and Michael when he and Audrey and Dr. Ross took +one of their long scrambling or fishing expeditions. Geraldine +used to manifest a wifely impatience on these occasions that +was very pretty and becoming; and she and Michael, who +seemed to share her feelings, would stroll to the little bridge of +an evening to meet the returning party. Somehow Michael +was always the first to see them and to raise the friendly halloo, +that generally sent the small black cattle scampering down the +croft.</p> + +<p>'See the conquering hero comes!' Mr. Harcourt would +respond, opening his rush basket to display the silvery trout. +Dr. Ross's pockets would be full of mosses and specimens and +fragments of rock, and Audrey brought up the rear with both +hands laden with wild-flowers and grasses.</p> + +<p>'Have you been dull, my darling?' Mr. Harcourt would say +as Geraldine walked beside him. She seemed to have eyes and +ears for no one else—and was that any wonder, when he had +been absent from her since early morning? 'We have had a +grand day, Jerry; we have tramped I do not know how many +miles—Dr. Ross says fifteen; we have been arguing about it +all the way home. I am as hungry as a hunter. I feel like<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">{167}</a></span> +Esau—a bowl of red lentils would not have a chance with me. +I always had a sneaking sort of liking for Esau. What have +you got for supper, little woman?'</p> + +<p>'Salmon-steaks and broiled fowl,' was Geraldine's answer—'your +favourite dishes, Percy. I am so glad you are hungry.'</p> + +<p>'Faith, that I am; the Trojan heroes were nothing to me! +I will have a wash first, and get off these boots—should you +know them for boots?—and then you shall see, my dear.'</p> + +<p>And it may be doubted whether those two ever enjoyed a +meal more than those salmon-steaks and broiled fowl that Jean +Scott first cooked and then carried in bare-armed, setting down +the dishes with a triumphant bang on the small rickety table.</p> + +<p>'Now we will have a drop of the cratur and a pipe,' Mr. +Harcourt would say. 'Wrap yourself in my rug, and we will +sit in the porch, for really this cabin stifles me after the moors. +What have you and your mother been talking about? Let me +have the whole budget, Jerry.'</p> + +<p>Was there a happier woman in the world than Geraldine, +nestled under her husband's plaid, in the big roomy porch, and +looking out at the starlight? Even practical, prosaic people +have their moments of poetry, when the inner meaning of +things seems suddenly revealed to them, when their outer self +drops off and their vision is purged and purified; and Geraldine, +listening to the tinkling beck below, and inhaling the cool +fragrance of the Scotch twilight, creeps nearer to her husband +and leans against his sheltering arm. What does it matter +what they talked about? Mr. Harcourt had not yet forgotten +the lover in the husband; perhaps he, too, felt how sweet was +this dual solitude after his busy labours, and owned in manly +fashion his sense of his many blessings.</p> + +<p>'How happy those two are!' Audrey once said, a little +thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>She was sitting on the open moor, and Michael was stretched +on the heather beside her, with Kester at a little distance, buried +as usual in his book; Booty was amusing himself by following +rather inquisitively the slow movements of a bee that was +humming over the heather. The three had been spending a +tranquil afternoon together, while Dr. Ross and his son-in-law +had started for a certain long walk, which they declared no +woman ought to attempt.</p> + +<p>Audrey was not sorry to be left with Michael. It had been +her intention from the first to devote herself to him; and dearly +as she loved these rambles with her father, she was quite as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">{168}</a></span> +happy talking to Michael. Audrey's dangerous gift of sympathy—dangerous +because of its lack of moderation—always enabled +her to throw herself into other people's interests; it gave her +positive happiness to see Michael so tranquil and content, and +carrying himself with the air of a man who knows himself to +be anchored in some fair haven after stress of weather; and, +indeed, these were halcyon days to Michael.</p> + +<p>He had Audrey's constant companionship, and never had the +girl been sweeter to him. The delicious moorland air, the +free life, the absence of any care or worry, braced his worn +nerves and filled his pulses with a sense of returning health. +He felt comparatively well and strong, and woke each morning +with a sense of enjoyment and well-being. Even Audrey's +long absences did not trouble him over-much, for there was +always the pleasure of her return. He and Kester could +always amuse themselves until the time came for him and +Geraldine to stroll to their trysting-place.</p> + +<p>'Here we are, Michael!' Audrey would say, with her +sudden bright smile, that seemed to light up the landscape. +Somehow, he had never admired her so much as he did now in +her neat tweed dress, and the deerstalker cap that sat so +jauntily on her brown hair. How lightly she walked! how +full of life and energy she was! No mountain-bred lass had a +freer step, a more erect carriage.</p> + +<p>When Audrey made her little speech about her sister's happiness, +Michael looked up with a sort of lazy surprise in his eyes.</p> + +<p>'Well, are not married people generally happy?' he asked. +'At least, the world gives them credit for happiness. Fancy +turning bankrupt at nine or ten months!'</p> + +<p>'Oh, there will be no bankruptcy in their case. Gage is a +thoroughly contented woman. Do you know, Michael, I begin +to think Percival a good fellow myself. I never saw quite so +much of him before, and he is really very companionable.'</p> + +<p>'Come, now, I have hopes of you. Then why this dubious +tone in alluding to their matrimonial felicity?'</p> + +<p>'Oh, I don't know!' with a slight blush. 'I believe it +makes me a little impatient if people talk too much about it. +Mother and Gage are perpetually haranguing on such subjects +as this; they are always hinting, or saying out openly, that +such a girl had better be married. Now, it is all very well, +but there are two sides to every question, and I do think old +maids have a great many privileges. No one seems to think of +the delights of freedom.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">{169}</a></span></p> + +<p>'I believe we have heard these sentiments before. Kester, +my son, go on with your book; this sort of conversation is not +intended for good little boys.'</p> + +<p>'Michael, don't be absurd! I really mean what I say; it is +perfectly glorious to say and do just what one likes. I mean +to write a paper about it one day, and send it up to one of our +leading periodicals.'</p> + +<p>'"On the Old Maids of England," by "A Young Maid." +I should like to read it; the result of three-and-twenty years' +experience must be singularly beneficial to the world at large. +Write it, my child, by all means; and I will correct the proof-sheets.'</p> + +<p>'But why should not one be happy in one's own way?' +persisted Audrey. 'You are older than I, Michael—I suppose +a man of your age must have some experience—is it not something +to be your own master, to go where you like and do what +you like without being cross-questioned on your actions?'</p> + +<p>'Oh, I will agree with you there!'</p> + +<p>'People talk such nonsense about loneliness and all that +sort of thing, as though one need be lonely in a whole world +full of human creatures—as though an old maid cannot find +plenty to love, and who will love her.'</p> + +<p>'I don't know; I never tried. If I had a maiden aunt, +perhaps——' murmured Michael.</p> + +<p>'If you had, and she were a nice, kind-hearted woman, you +would love her. I know it is the fashion to laugh at old maids, +and make remarks on their funny little ways; but I never will +find fault with them. Why, I shall be an old maid myself one +day; but, all the same, I mean people to love me all my life +long. What are you doing now?' rather sharply; for Michael +had taken out his pocket-book and was writing the date.</p> + +<p>'I thought I might like to remind you of this conversation +one day. Is it the sixteenth or the seventeenth? Thank you, +Kester—the seventeenth? There! it is written down.'</p> + +<p>'You are very disagreeable, and I will not talk any more to +you. I shall go and look for some stag's-horn moss instead;' +and Audrey sprang up from her couch of heather and marched +away, while Michael lay face downward, with his peaked cap +drawn over his eyes, and watched her roaming over the moor.</p> + +<p>Now, why was Audrey declaiming after this fashion? and +why did she take it into her head to air all sorts of independent +notions that quite shocked her mother? and why was she for +ever drawing plans to herself of a life that should be solitary,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">{170}</a></span> +and yet crowded with interests—whose keynote should be +sympathy for her fellow-creatures and large-hearted work among +them? and, above all, why did she want to persuade herself +and Michael that this was the sort of life best fitted for her? +But no one could answer these questions; so complex is the +machinery of feminine nature, that perhaps Audrey herself +would have been the last to be able to answer them.</p> + +<p>But she was very happy, in spite of all these crude theories—very +happy indeed; some fulness of life seemed to enrich her +fine, bountiful nature, and to add to her sense of enjoyment. +Sometimes, when she was sitting beside some mountain beck, +in the hush of the noontide heat, when all was silent and +solitary about her except the gauzy wings of insects moving +above the grasses, a certain face would start up against the +background of her thoughts—a pair of dark, wistful eyes would +appeal to her out of the silence. That mute farewell, so +suggestive, so full of pain—even the strong warm grasp with +which her hand had been held—recurred to her memory. Was +he still missing her, she wondered, or had Miss Frances contrived +to comfort him?</p> + +<p>Miss Frances was very seldom mentioned in Cyril's frequent +letters to Kester. The boy used to bring them to Audrey to +read with a glow of satisfaction on his face.</p> + +<p>'Cyril is awfully good,' he said once; 'he never used to write +to me at all; mother always had his letters. But look what a +long one I have had to-day—two sheets and a half—and he has +asked such a lot of questions. Please, do read it, Miss Ross; +there are heaps of messages to everybody.'</p> + +<p>Audrey was quite willing to read it. As she took the letter, +she again admired the clear, bold handwriting. It was just +like the writer, she thought—frank, open, and straightforward. +But as she perused it, a glow of amusement passed over her +face.</p> + +<p>Mr. Blake's letters were very kind and brotherly, but were +they only intended for Kester's eyes? Were all those picturesque +descriptions, those clever sketches of character, those +telling bits of humour, meant solely for the delectation of a boy +of sixteen? And, then, the series of questions—what did they +do all day when the weather was rainy, for example? did Miss +Ross always join the Doctor and Mr. Harcourt on their fishing +expeditions? and so on. Mr. Blake seldom mentioned her +name, although there were many indirect allusions to her; but +Miss Frances was scarcely ever mentioned. She was only<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">{171}</a></span> +classed in an offhand way with 'the Hackett girls' or 'the +young ladies.' 'The Hackett girls went with us; the two +younger ones are famous walkers,' etcetera.</p> + +<p>Sometimes there would be an attempt to moralise.</p> + +<p>'I am getting sick of girls,' he wrote on this occasion. 'I +will give you a piece of brotherly advice, my boy: never have +much to do with them. Do not misunderstand me. By girls, +I mean the specimens of young ladies one meets at tennis-parties, +garden-parties, and that sort of thing. They are very pretty and +amusing, but they are dangerous; they seem to expect that a +fellow has nothing else to do but to dangle after them and pay +them compliments. Even Miss F—— But, there, I will not +mention names. She is a good sort—a lively little soul; but +she is always up to mischief.'</p> + +<p>Audrey bit her lips to keep from smiling as she read this +passage, for she knew Kester was watching her. It was one of +the 'saft days' common in the Highlands, and, not being ducks, +the two households had remained within doors. Dr. Ross and +Michael were classifying butterflies and moths in the den; Mrs. +Ross was in her room; and Mr. and Mrs. Harcourt—'cabined, +cribbed, confined,' as Mr. Harcourt expressed it—were getting +through alarming arrears of correspondence by way of +passing the time. Audrey had lighted a fire in the parlour, and +sat beside it snugly, and Kester was on the couch opposite her.</p> + +<p>'I wonder if it be Miss Frances!' thought Audrey, as she +replaced the letter in the envelope. '"A lively little soul, and +a good sort." I don't think Mr. Blake's dislike to girls counts +for much. Young men seldom write in that way unless they +are bitten; and, of course, it could be no one else but Miss +Frances. But it is no use arguing out the question.'</p> + +<p>'It is a very good letter,' she said aloud. 'You are lucky +to have such a correspondent. I suppose'—taking up her +embroidery—'that your brother will not mind our seeing his +letters?'</p> + +<p>'Oh dear no!' returned Kester, falling innocently into the +snare. 'I have told him that you always read them; and, you +see, he writes just as often. Do you think Cyril is enjoying +himself as much as we are, Miss Ross? Now and then it seems +to me that he is a little dull. When Cyril says he is bored, I +think he means it.'</p> + +<p>Audrey evaded this question. She also had detected a vein +of melancholy running through the letters. If he were so very +happy in Miss Frances' society, would he wish quite so earnestly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">{172}</a></span> +that the vacation were over, and that he was amongst his boys +in the big schoolroom? Would he drop those hints that no air +suited him like Rutherford air?</p> + +<p>'I think he ought to be enjoying himself,' she said, a little +severely. 'He is amongst very kind people, who evidently try +to make him happy, and who treat him like one of themselves; +and, then, the girls seem so good-natured. Young men do not +know when they are well off. You had better tell him so, +Kester.'</p> + +<p>'Shall I say it as a message from you?'</p> + +<p>'By no means;' and Audrey spoke very decidedly. 'I +never send messages to gentlemen.' And as the boy looked +rather abashed at this rebuke, she continued more gently: 'Of +course you will give him our kind regards, and I daresay mother +will send a message—Mr. Blake is a great favourite of hers. +But it is not my business if your brother chooses to be discontented +and to quarrel with his loaves and fishes.'</p> + +<p>'I think Cyril would like to be in my place,' observed +Kester, quite unaware that he was saying the wrong thing; but +Audrey took no notice of this speech. 'Well, he need not envy +me now,' he went on, in a dolorous voice. 'It has been a grand +time—I have never been so happy in my life; but it will soon +be over now. Only a fortnight more.'</p> + +<p>'I am so glad you have been happy, Kester; and you do +seem so much better,' looking at him critically.</p> + +<p>And indeed a great change had passed over the boy. His +face was less thin and sharp, and there was a tinge of healthy +colour in his cheeks; his eyes, too, were less sunken and +hollow, and had lost their melancholy expression. When +Audrey had first seen him on that June afternoon, there had +been a subdued air about him that contrasted painfully with his +extreme youth; but now there was renewed life and energy in +his aspect, as though some heavy pressure had been suddenly +removed.</p> + +<p>'I am ever so much better,' he returned gratefully; and it +was then that Audrey noticed for the first time his likeness to +his brother. He was really a nice-looking boy, and but for his +want of health would have been handsome. 'When I go home'—and +here a cloud passed over his face—'these weeks will +seem like a dream. Fancy having to do nothing all day but +enjoy one's self from morning to night!'</p> + +<p>'Why, I am sure you and Michael work hard enough.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, but that is the best pleasure of all!' he replied eagerly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">{173}</a></span> +'I should not care for idleness. I like to feel I am making +progress; and Captain Burnett says I am getting on first-rate. +And then think of our study, Miss Ross!' and here Kester's +face kindled with enthusiasm. 'How I shall dream of those +moors, and of those great patches of purple heather, and the +bees humming over the thyme, and the golden gorse, and the +bracken! No wonder Cyril wants to be in my place!'</p> + +<p>'You and Michael are great friends, are you not, Kester?'</p> + +<p>'Oh yes!' But though Kester turned on her a beaming +look of assent, he said no more. He had a boy's dislike to +speak of his feelings; and Audrey respected this shy reticence, +for she asked no further questions. But she knew Kester +almost worshipped Michael, that a word from him influenced +him more than a dozen words from any other person; even +Cyril's opinion must defer to this new friend. For was not +Captain Burnett a hero? did he not wear the Victoria Cross? +and were not those scars the remains of glorious wounds, when +he shed his blood freely for those poor sick soldiers? And this +hero, this king of men, this grave, clear-eyed soldier, had thrown +the ægis of his protection round him—Kester—had stooped to +teach and befriend him! No wonder Kester prayed 'God bless +him!' every night in his brief boyish prayers; that he grew to +track his footsteps much as Booty did, and to read him—as +Audrey failed to do—by the light of his honest, youthful love.</p> + +<p>For Kester's hero was Kester's friend; and in time friends +grow to understand each other.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">{174}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h2> + +<h3>YELLOW STOCKINGS ON THE TAPIS</h3> + +<table summary="quotation"> +<tr><td> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse">'We school our manners, act our parts,</div> +<div class="vind2">But He who sees us through and through</div> +<div class="verse">Knows that the bent of both our hearts</div> +<div class="vind2">Was to be gentle, tranquil, true.'</div> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<div class="sign"><span class="smcap">Matthew Arnold.</span></div> +</div> +</td></tr> +</table> + + +<p>Audrey had not forgotten Mollie all this time. She kept +her promise, and wrote to her frequently; and she had long +letters from her in return. Mollie's girlish effusions were very +innocent and loving. One day Michael asked to read one of +them. He smiled as he handed it back.</p> + +<p>'She is a dear little girl!' he said heartily; 'I do not +wonder that you are so fond of her. She is only an undeveloped +child now, but there is plenty of good raw material. Mollie +will make a fine large-hearted woman one day—like someone +else I know,' he finished to himself. 'If I do not mistake, +Mollie is cut after Audrey's pattern.'</p> + +<p>Now and then Mrs. Blake wrote also. Her letters were +airy and picturesque, like her talk. Audrey would read them +aloud to her mother and Michael.</p> + +<p>'I really feel as though our Richmond dreams had come +true,' she wrote once—'as though our favourite castle in the +air were built. "Not really, mother? you don't think this +beautiful house and garden belong to us really?" asks Mollie, +in her stupid way. You know what a literal little soul she is. +"Oh, go away, Mollie!" I exclaim quite crossly. "How can +I help it if you have no imagination?" For all I know, the +place is ours: no one interferes with us; we come and go as +we like; the birds sing to us; the flowers bloom for our pleasure. +Sometimes we sit by the lake, or Mollie paddles me to Deep-water +Chine, or we read our history on that delicious circular<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">{175}</a></span> +seat overlooking the terraces. Then the silence is invaded: a +neat-handed Phyllis—isn't that poetically expressed?—comes up +with a message from that good Mrs. Draper: "Where would +Mrs. Blake and Miss Mollie have their tea?" Oh, you dear, +thoughtful creature, as though I do not know who has prompted +Mrs. Draper! Of course Mollie cries: "The garden, mamma!" +and "The garden so be it," say I. And presently it comes—such +a tea! such fruit, such cream, such cakes! No wonder +Mollie is growing fat. And how am I to thank you and dear +Mrs. Ross? I must give it up; words will not express my +sense of your goodness. But before I finish this rigmarole I +must tell you that Mollie practises every day for an hour, and +keeps up her French, and the Roman history progresses well. +I am carrying Mollie so fast over the ground that we shall soon +be dragged at Pompey's chariot-wheels; and as she complains +that she forgets what we have read, I make her take notes and +copy them neatly in a book. I know you will be glad to hear +this.'</p> + +<p>'Humph!' was Michael's sole observation, when Audrey +had finished.</p> + +<p>'It is a very interesting letter—very droll and amusing,' +remarked Mrs. Ross, in her kindly way. 'Mrs. Blake is a +clever woman; don't you think so, Michael?'</p> + +<p>But Michael could not be induced to hazard an opinion; +indeed, his behaviour was so unsatisfactory that Audrey +threatened to keep the next letter to herself.</p> + +<p>But the last week was nearly at an end, and, though everyone +loudly lamented over this fact, it was observed that Mrs. +Ross's countenance grew brighter every day. She never +willingly left her beautiful home, and she always hailed her +return to it with joy. Not even her Highland home, with its +heather and long festoons of stag-horn moss, could divert her +affections from her beloved Woodcote; and the young mistress +of Hillside fully echoed these sentiments.</p> + +<p>'It has been a lovely time, and has done Percy a world of +good,' she said to her mother, as they were packing up some +curiosities together; 'but I can see he is growing a little tired +of idleness; and, after all, there is no place like home.'</p> + +<p>'I am sure your father and I feel the same; and really, +Geraldine, on a wet day these rooms are terribly small. I used +to take my work upstairs; one seemed to breathe freer than in +that stuffy parlour that Audrey and Michael think so charming.'</p> + +<p>'So our last evening has come,' observed Audrey, in a curious<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">{176}</a></span> +tone, as she and Michael wandered down to the little bridge +they called their trysting-place. A tiny rivulet of water trickled +over the stones, and two or three ducks were dibbling with +yellow bills among the miniature boulders. Audrey sat down +on the low wall, and Michael stooped to pick up a pebble, an +action that excited frantic joy in Booty's breast.</p> + +<p>'Ah, to be sure!' he replied, as he sent it skimming along +the water, while Booty pattered after it, barking with glee. +'Don't you remember De Quincey's observation?' And as +Audrey shook her head, for she never remembered quotations, +he went on: 'He declares that it is a true and feeling remark +of Dr. Johnson's, that we never do anything consciously for +the last time (of things, that is to say, which we have long +been in the habit of doing) without sadness of heart.'</p> + +<p>'I think he is right;' and Audrey bent over the low parapet +to watch a sudden scrimmage below.</p> + +<p>Booty was frisking among the boulders, and the ducks, +evidently ruffled in their feelings, were swimming under the +bridge, quacking a loud, indignant protest. Even ducks lose +their tempers sometimes, and the angry flourish of their tails +and the pouting of their soft necks and their open bills showed +keen remonstrance and utter vexation of spirit.</p> + +<p>'Booty, come here, and leave those ducks in peace;' and +then, while Michael threw another pebble or two, she sat asking +herself if she felt this sadness. Was she glad or sorry to know +that to-morrow they would be on their way to Rutherford?—would +it not be a matter of regret if their return were to be +suddenly postponed? She had been very happy here; she had +seen so much of her father and Michael; but——Here +Audrey brought her inward questioning to an abrupt end.</p> + +<p>'It has been a nice time, Michael,' she said gently—'a very +nice time indeed.'</p> + +<p>'Look here! I wish you would substitute another adjective,' +he remonstrated, quite seriously. '"Nice" is such an insipid, +sugary sort of word: it has no sort of character about it. Now, +if you had said "a good old time——"'</p> + +<p>'And have drawn down a reproof on myself for talking slang.'</p> + +<p>'Well, "a glorious time,"' he corrected—'shall we say that +instead? You have enjoyed it, have you not?' with one of his +searching looks.</p> + +<p>'Oh yes; I have never enjoyed myself more. And, Michael'—her +love of mischief predominating—'I do believe we have +not quarrelled once.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">{177}</a></span></p> + +<p>'You have been such a brick, you know, and have given in +to me in everything. Somehow,' continued Michael, throwing +up a pebble and catching it again, 'if people give in to me, I +am remarkably sweet-tempered. We were very near a quarrel +once, I remember, but it never came to anything. It was a +hot afternoon, I think, and we were both sleepy.'</p> + +<p>'I cannot say I remember it.'</p> + +<p>'Well, let it pass. I am in that sort of magnanimous mood +that I am ready to pronounce absolution on all offences—past, +present, and to come. By the bye, Audrey, I forgot to tell you +something. Kester has had the letter he wanted, and Widow +Blake graciously signifies her assent.'</p> + +<p>'Michael, let me give you a timely warning. We shall +quarrel if you call my friend by that ridiculous name.'</p> + +<p>'A quarrel cannot be carried on by one party alone,' he +returned lazily; 'and I absolutely refuse to consider a mere +statement of facts in the light of a grievance. Still, if your +feelings are wounded, and you object to my allusion to your +fair friend's bereaved condition——'</p> + +<p>'Michael!' with a little stamp, 'will you leave off talking +about Mrs. Blake and tell me what you mean?'</p> + +<p>'It is perfectly simple, I assure you. Kester wrote to his +mother to ask if he might go up to town with me, and she +said "Yes."'</p> + +<p>'Must you really go?' rather regretfully. 'It would be so +much nicer if you came to Rutherford with us. You know,' +she continued affectionately, 'I always miss you so much when +you are away.'</p> + +<p>Michael gave her one of his quick looks, and then he picked +up a smooth white stone that had attracted his attention.</p> + +<p>'I shall follow you in ten days—at least, that is my present +intention, unless Stedman's business keeps me.'</p> + +<p>'But will not Kester be in your way?'</p> + +<p>'Not a bit; he will be a famous companion. He will have +the run of my rooms, and when I am at the club or with the +other fellows he will find a hundred ways of amusing himself.'</p> + +<p>'It will be such a treat to him.'</p> + +<p>'I want it to be a treat; he has not had much pleasure in +his life, poor fellow! Do you know, Audrey, he has never +really seen London. Won't he enjoy bowling along the +Embankment in a hansom, and what do you suppose he will +say to Westminster Abbey and the Houses of Parliament? I +mean to take him to the theatre. Actually he has never seen<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">{178}</a></span> +a play! We will have dinner at the Criterion, and I will get +Fred Somers to join us. Well, what now?' regarding her with +astonishment; for Audrey was looking at him, and her beautiful +gray eyes were full of tears.</p> + +<p>'Because you are so kind,' she said a little huskily; +'because no one else ever did such kind, thoughtful things, and +because you never think of yourself at all.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, come, you must not begin praising me after this +fashion!' he said lightly; for he would not show her how much +he was touched that there were actually tears in her eyes for +him.</p> + +<p>'And I think it no wonder at all that Kester is so devoted +to you.'</p> + +<p>'Booty!' exclaimed Michael sadly; and as the little creature +jumped on his knee, he continued in a melancholy tone: 'Do +you know, Booty, you have a rival? Someone else beside yourself +dares to be devoted to your master. Ah, no wonder you wag +your tail so feebly! "The moon loves many brooks, but the +brooks love one moon"—it is an affecting image.'</p> + +<p>'Michael, I do wish you would be a little serious this last +evening. I really mean it. Kester thinks more of you than +he does of his own brother.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, he will be wiser some day,' returned Michael, with the +utmost cheerfulness. 'You must make allowance for his youth +and inexperience. He is an odd boy, rather precocious for his +age, and his weak health has fostered his little peculiarities.'</p> + +<p>'You speak as though some apology were needed. You are +very dense this evening, Michael. I believe I said I was not +at all surprised at Kester's devotion, you have been so good to +him.'</p> + +<p>'I think the air of this place is enervating,' replied Michael, +jumping up from the parapet. 'I know people do not generally +consider moorland air enervating; but mine is a peculiar constitution, +and needs more bracing than other men's. Shall we +walk back, my dear?' But as he gave her his hand to rise, the +gentle melancholy of his smile smote her with a sudden sense +of sadness, for it spoke of some hidden pain that even her +sympathy could not reach; and she knew that his whimsical +words only cloaked some vague uneasiness. 'Come, dear, +come,' he continued; 'these Scotch twilights are somewhat +damp and chilly. We will burn that pine log this evening, +and we will sit round it and tell stories—eh, Audrey?'</p> + +<p>But, in spite of these cheerful words, Michael was the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">{179}</a></span> +quietest of the group that evening, as he watched from his +dusky corner, unperceived himself, the play of the firelight on +one bright, earnest face. Audrey sat on the rug at her father's +feet, with her head against his knee. It was a favourite +position of hers.</p> + +<p>'Now, Daddy Glass-Eyes, it is your turn,' she said, using the +old baby-name. 'Michael has turned disagreeable and has +gone to sleep, so we will miss him. Kester, are you thinking +of your story? It must be a nice creepy one, please.'</p> + +<p>'I think we ought all to go to bed early, John,' interrupted +Mrs. Ross. 'Audrey is in one of her sociable moods; but she +forgets we have a long journey before us. Kester is looking as +sleepy as possible.' And as Dr. Ross always acted on his wife's +quiet hints, the fireside circle soon broke up.</p> + +<p>It had been arranged that the whole party should sleep +two nights in town. Geraldine and Audrey had shopping to +do, and both Dr. Ross and his son-in-law had business appointments +to detain them. Audrey and her mother had tea with +Michael one evening, and then they bade him and Kester good-bye.</p> + +<p>'You will tell Mollie all about me, will you not, Miss Ross?' +Kester exclaimed excitedly. 'Tell her I am going to St. Paul's, +and the National Gallery, and the British Museum. Fred +Somers is going to pilot me about, as Captain Burnett has so +much to do. Do you know Fred Somers, Miss Ross? He +seems a nice sort of fellow.'</p> + +<p>Oh yes, Audrey knew all about Fred Somers. He was +another <i>protégé</i> of Michael's; indeed, the whole Somers family +considered themselves indebted to Captain Burnett.</p> + +<p>Fred's father was only a City clerk, and at one time his head +had been very much below water. He was a good, weak sort +of man; but he had not sufficient backbone, and when the tide +sat dead against him he lost courage.</p> + +<p>'The man will die,' said the doctor. 'He has no stamina; +he simply offers no resistance to the disease that is carrying +him off. You should cheer him up a bit, Mrs. Somers—crying +never mended a sick man yet.' For he was the parish doctor, +and a little rough in his ways.</p> + +<p>'A man has no right to lose courage and to show the white +feather when he has a wife and six children depending on him,' +said Michael.</p> + +<p>Some chance—or rather say some providential arrangement—had +brought him across their threshold. Michael came<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">{180}</a></span> +across all sorts of people in his London life, and, though his +acquaintance among City clerks was rather limited, he had known +Mr. Somers slightly.</p> + +<p>When Michael stepped up to that sick-bed with that wholesome +rebuke on his tongue, but his heart very full of sympathy +for the stricken man, Robert Somers' difficulties were practically +over. The debts that were chafing the life out of him—debts +incurred by sickness, by a hundred little disasters—were +paid out of Michael's small means; and, despite his doctor's +prophecy, Robert Somers rose from his bed a braver, stronger +man.</p> + +<p>Michael never lost interest in the family. They would +always be pinched and struggling, he knew—a City clerkship is +not an El Dorado of riches, and growing boys and girls have to +be clothed and educated. Michael took the eldest boy, Fred, +under his wing—by some means or other he got him into Christ's +Hospital. How Fred's little sisters admired those yellow +stockings!—though it may be doubted whether they were not +too warm a colour for Fred's private taste. Fred was a Grecian +by this time—a big strapping fellow he looked beside Kester—with +a freckled, intelligent face and a mop of dark hair. He +was a great favourite of Audrey's, and she had once induced her +mother to let him spend a fortnight at Woodcote. Dr. Ross also +took a kindly interest in him.</p> + +<p>'Fred will make his mark one day. You are right, Michael,' +he observed. 'He has plenty of brains under that rough thatch +of his. He will shoulder his way through the world. Christ's +Hospital has turned out many a fine scholar, and Fred does not +mean to be behind them.'</p> + +<p>Audrey bade good-bye to Michael somewhat reluctantly.</p> + +<p>'You will follow us in ten days, will you not?' she asked +rather anxiously. 'Remember that London never suits you; +you are always better at Rutherford, and it will be such a pity +to lose your good looks—Scotland has done wonders for you. +Percival was only saying so this morning.'</p> + +<p>'I shall be sure to come as soon as I have settled this +troublesome piece of business,' he returned cheerfully. 'Take +care of yourself, my Lady Bountiful, and do not get into mischief +during your Mentor's absence.'</p> + +<p>But when the hansom had driven off, Michael did an unusual +thing. He walked to a small oak-framed mirror that hung +between the windows, and regarded himself with earnest +scrutiny. He was alone; the two boys had started off in an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">{181}</a></span> +omnibus to the National Gallery, and Michael had promised to +lunch with a friend in Lincoln's Inn.</p> + +<p>'My good looks,' he soliloquised. 'I wonder if my health +has really improved? She was right. I felt a different man in +Scotland. I have not felt so well and strong since that Zulu +slashed me—poor devil! I sent him to limbo. It is true the +doctors were not hopeless; in time and with care, if I could +only keep my nerves in order—that was what they said. Oh, +if I could only believe them—if I could only feel the power for +work—any sort of work—coming back to me, I would—I +would——' He stopped and broke off the thread of his thoughts +abruptly. 'What a fool I am! I will not let this temptation +master me. If I were once to entertain such a hope, to believe +it possible, I should work myself into a restless fever. Avaunt, +Satanas! Sweet, subtle, most impossible of impossibilities—a +sane man cannot be deluded. Good God! why must some men +lead such empty lives?' For a moment the firm, resolute +mouth twitched under the reddish-brown moustache, then Michael +rang the bell and ordered a hansom.</p> + +<p>It was late on a September evening when Audrey drove +through Rutherford. She leaned forward in the carriage a little +eagerly as they passed the Gray Cottage—surely Mollie would +be at the window! But no! the windows were blank; no +girlish face was there to greet her, and with a slight feeling of +disappointment she drew back again. But nothing could long +spoil the joy of returning home.</p> + +<p>'Oh, mother, does it not all look lovely?' she exclaimed, +later on that evening. She had been everywhere—to the +stables, the poultry-yard, the dairy, and lastly to Mrs. Draper's +room. The twilight was creeping over the gardens of Woodcote +before Audrey had finished her rambles. She had been down +to the lake, she had sat on 'Michael's bench,' she had looked at +her favourite shrubs and flowers, and Dr. Ross smiled as he +heard her gaily singing along the terraces.</p> + +<p>'Come in, you madcap!' he said good-humouredly. 'Do +you know how heavy the dews are? There, I told you so; your +dress is quite damp.'</p> + +<p>'What does it matter?' returned Audrey, with superb disdain. +'"The rains of Marly do not wet!"—do you recollect +that exquisite courtier-like speech?—so, no doubt, Woodcote +dews are quite wholesome. Is it not delicious to be home +again? And there is no more "Will you come ben?" from +honest Jean, and "Will you have a sup of porridge, Miss Ross<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">{182}</a></span>, +or a few broth to keep out the cold?" "Home, home, +there is no place like home!"' And then they heard her +singing at the top of her fresh young voice, as she roamed +through the empty rooms, some old ballad Michael had taught +her:</p> + +<table summary="poem"> +<tr><td> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse">'Oh, there's naebody hears Widow Miller complain,</div> +<div class="verse">Oh, there's naebody hears Widow Miller complain;</div> +<div class="verse">Though the heart of this world's as hard as a stane,</div> +<div class="verse">Yet there's naebody hears Widow Miller complain.'</div> +</div> +</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>'Dear child!' observed her mother fondly. 'I do not think +anyone ever was happier than our Audrey. She is like a sunbeam +in the house, John;' and then they both paused to +listen:</p> + +<table summary="poem"> +<tr><td> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse">'Ye wealthy and wise in this fair world of ours,</div> +<div class="verse">When your fields wave wi' gowd, your gardens wi' flowers,</div> +<div class="verse">When ye bind up the sheaves, leave out a few grains</div> +<div class="verse">To the heart-broken widow who never complains.'</div> +</div> +</td></tr> +</table> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">{183}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX</h2> + +<h3>'THE LITTLE RIFT'</h3> + +<table summary="quotation"> +<tr><td> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse">'And sigh that one thing only has been lent</div> +<div class="verse">To youth and age in common—discontent.'</div> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<div class="sign"><span class="smcap">Matthew Arnold.</span></div> +</div> +</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>Audrey was very busy the next morning unpacking and settling +a hundred things with her mother and Mrs. Draper. She had +fully expected that Mollie would have made her appearance at +her usual time; but when the luncheon-hour arrived, and still +no Mollie, she felt a little perplexed. Kester had entrusted her +with numerous messages, and she had now no resource but to +go herself to the Gray Cottage and deliver them. Audrey was +never touchy, never stood on her dignity as most people do; but +the thought did cross her that for once Mollie had been a little +remiss.</p> + +<p>'I would so much rather have seen her at Woodcote,' she +said to herself, as she walked quickly down the High Street. +Mrs. Ross was going up to Hillside to look after Geraldine, and +Audrey had promised to join her there in an hour's time. 'I +never can talk comfortably to Mollie at the Gray Cottage; Mrs. +Blake always monopolises me so.'</p> + +<p>But Audrey carefully refrained from hinting, even to herself, +the real reason for her reluctance. She had a curious dread of +seeing Mr. Blake, an unaccountable wish to keep out of his +way as much as possible; but not for worlds would she have +acknowledged this.</p> + +<p>She opened the green gate, and Zack bounded out to meet +her with his usual bark of welcome; but no Mollie followed +him, only Biddy, looking more like a witch than ever, with a +red silk handkerchief tied over her gray hair, hobbled across the +passage.</p> + +<p>'The mistress and Miss Mollie are in the drawing-room,' she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">{184}</a></span> +said, fixing her bright hawk-like eyes on Audrey. 'And how +is it with yourself, Miss Ross?—you look as blooming as a rose +before it is gathered. It is a purty compliment,' as Audrey +laughed; 'but it is true, and others will be telling you so, Miss +Ross, avick.'</p> + +<p>Audrey blushed a little, for there was a meaning look in the +old woman's eyes. Then she ran lightly upstairs; the drawing-room +door was half open, and she could hear Mollie's voice +reading aloud; 'Pompey and Pharsalia' caught her ear; then +she gave the door a little push, and Mollie's book dropped on +the floor.</p> + +<p>'Miss Ross! oh, Miss Ross!' she exclaimed half hysterically, +but she did not move from her place.</p> + +<p>It was Mrs. Blake who took Audrey's hands and kissed her +airily on either cheek.</p> + +<p>'My dear Miss Ross!' she exclaimed, in her soft, impressive +voice, 'this is almost too good of you. I told Mollie that I +knew you would come. "Do you think she will have the heart +to stay away when she knows that we are perfectly famished +for a sight of her?" that was what I said when Mollie was +plaguing me to let her go to Woodcote this morning.'</p> + +<p>'But I was expecting her, Mrs. Blake,' returned Audrey, +drawing the girl to her side as she stood apart rather +awkwardly. 'I thought it was unkind of Mollie to desert me +the first morning. Every time the door opened I said to myself, +"That is Mollie." I half made up my mind to be offended at +last.'</p> + +<p>'There, mamma, I told you so!' observed Mollie rather piteously; +'I knew Miss Ross would be hurt; that is why I +begged so hard to go.'</p> + +<p>'Poor mamma! she is always in the wrong,' returned Mrs. +Blake, with a touch of petulance. 'I put it to you, Miss Ross: +would it not have been utter want of consideration on my part +to allow Mollie to hinder you with her chattering just when +you were unpacking and so dreadfully busy? "Take my advice, +and stop away until you are wanted," that is what I said to +Mollie, and actually the foolish child got into a regular pet +about it; yes, you may look ashamed of yourself, Mollie, but +you know I said I should tell Miss Ross. You can see by her +eyes how she has been crying, and all because I insisted you +were not to be worried.'</p> + +<p>'Mollie never worries me,' returned Audrey, with a kind +look at her favourite's flushed face.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">{185}</a></span></p> + +<p>But she did not dare pursue the subject; she knew poor +Mollie was often thwarted in her little plans. If her mother +had a sudden caprice or whim to be gratified, Mollie was the +one who must always set her own wishes aside—for whom any +little disappointment was judged salutary. Perhaps the discipline +did not really harm Mollie; her humility and unselfishness +guarded her against any rankling bitterness.</p> + +<p>'Mamma never likes me to do things without her,' she said +later on that afternoon. 'I think she is a little jealous of my +going to you so much, Miss Ross; she was so angry when I +asked to run across this morning, because she said I wanted +you all to myself. I know I was silly to cry about it, but I +was so sure you would be expecting me; and last night mamma +made me come out with her, and I wanted to stay at home and +watch for you: we went all the way to Brail; that is quite +mamma's favourite walk now—and, oh, I was so tired.'</p> + +<p>'But you must not fret, Mollie; and of course you must +do as your mother wishes: you know I shall always understand.'</p> + +<p>'Mamma says that you are her friend, and not mine,' +returned Mollie, with big melancholy eyes; 'and that I ought +not to put myself so forward: but you are my friend, too, are +you not, Miss Ross?'</p> + +<p>'Of course I am, my dear little girl, just as Michael is +Kester's friend; and now I must tell you some more about +him.'</p> + +<p>But this was when she and Mollie were walking towards +Hillside.</p> + +<p>Audrey had deftly changed the subject after Mrs. Blake's +remonstrance; but as she talked she still held Mollie's hand. +She felt very happy to be sitting in that pretty shady drawing-room +again, watching the pigeons fluttering among the old arches. +There was a bowl of dark crimson carnations on the little +work-table, and a cluster of the same fragrant flowers relieved +the sombreness of Mrs. Blake's black gown. She was looking +handsomer than ever this afternoon; she wore a little lace +kerchief over her dark glossy hair, and the delicate covering +seemed to enhance her picturesque, Mary Queen of Scots +beauty, and to heighten the brilliancy of her large dark eyes. +Audrey had never seen her look so charming, and her soft +playful manners completed the list of her fascinations. As +usual, Audrey forgave her petulance and want of consideration +for Mollie. It was difficult to find fault with Mrs. Blake; she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">{186}</a></span> +was so gay and good-humoured, she so soon forgot anything +that had ruffled her, she was so childlike and irresponsible, +that one seemed to judge her by a separate code.</p> + +<p>'I must go!' exclaimed Audrey, starting up, when it had +chimed the hour. She was in the midst of a description of +one of their walking expeditions—an attempt to reach a lovely +tarn in the heart of the hills. 'I must not wait any longer, +as my mother will be expecting me. Mollie, put on your hat; +you can walk with me to Hillside;' and then she hesitated.</p> + +<p>It was very strange that all this time Mr. Blake's name had +not been mentioned. They had talked about Kester and Michael, +but for once Cyril's name had not been on his mother's lips.</p> + +<p>'I hope your son enjoyed his holiday?' she asked, as she +picked a little sprig of scented geranium.</p> + +<p>'I am afraid Cyril is not quite in the mood for enjoying +himself,' returned Mrs. Blake in rather a peculiar tone. +'Mollie, run and put on your hat, as Miss Ross told you; and +for goodness' sake do brush your hair. My boy is not looking +like himself,' she continued when they were alone. 'I am +rather uneasy about him; he has grown thin, and does not +seem in his usual spirits.'</p> + +<p>'He wrote very cheerfully to Kester,' returned Audrey, +taken aback at this.</p> + +<p>'Oh, letters never tell one anything,' replied Mrs. Blake +impatiently. 'I daresay you thought I was as happy as +possible from mine, just because I must have my little jokes. +We Blakes are all like that. I daresay, if Cyril were here, +you would see nothing amiss with him; but you cannot blind +a mother's eyes, Miss Ross.'</p> + +<p>'I am very sorry,' returned Audrey gravely; 'perhaps +Cornwall did not agree with him; but he seemed very gay.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, as to that, he was gay enough; people always make +so much of him—he has been a favourite all his life. I never +knew any young man with so many friends. He has gone up +to London now to bid good-bye to one of them who is going +to India. We do not expect him back until quite late to-morrow.'</p> + +<p>'Indeed,' was Audrey's brief reply; but as she walked up +the hill with Mollie she was sensible of a feeling of relief. +She liked Mr. Blake, she had always liked him; but she had +begun to find his quiet, persistent watchfulness a little embarrassing—she +felt that it invaded the perfect freedom in +which she delighted. Nevertheless, she was sensible of a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">{187}</a></span> +vague curiosity to know why Mr. Blake was not in his usual +spirits—could it be Miss Frances, after all?</p> + +<p>'Mamma sent me away because she wanted to talk about +Cyril,' observed Mollie, with girlish shrewdness; 'she is +worrying about him, because he looks grave, and does not talk +quite so much as usual; but I am sure he is not ill. He was +terribly vexed when Mr. Plumpton telegraphed for him. I +don't think I ever saw Cyril so put out before. He was quite +cross with mamma when she wanted to pack his big portmanteau. +He declared he did not mean to stay away longer +than one night; but mamma said she knew he could not be +back until to-morrow evening. Just before he went away he +asked what time you were expected, and——'</p> + +<p>'Never mind about that,' interrupted Audrey; 'we shall +be at Hillside directly, and I have heard nothing about yourself. +Were you very dull without Kester, Mollie? and were +our letters long enough to satisfy you?'</p> + +<p>'Oh, they were just lovely!' returned Mollie enthusiastically; +'only mamma complained that everyone had forgotten her, +for even Cyril did not write half so often. I used to read +them over in the evening, and try and imagine what you were +doing; and I was not always dull, because I had so much to +do: but that Roman history—oh, Miss Ross!'</p> + +<p>'You have worked hard at that, have you not, Mollie?'</p> + +<p>'You would say so if you had heard us,' returned Mollie +with a shrug; 'we used to grind away at it until I was quite +stupid. Sometimes I wanted to practise or to go on with my +French. But no: mamma had promised Cyril, and there was +no help for it. I have filled one note-book, but I am not sure +I remember half. Mamma reads so fast, and she is always +vexed if I do not understand; but,' with a look of relief, 'I +don't think we shall do so much now. Mamma has got her +walking mood again.'</p> + +<p>Audrey tried not to smile. 'Next week we shall resume +our lessons, Mollie.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, that will be delightful,'—standing still, for they were +now entering the shrubberies of Hillside; 'somehow, no one +teaches like you, Miss Ross: you never seem to grow impatient +or to mind telling things over again; but mother is always in +such a hurry, and she is so clever herself that she has no +patience with a dunce like me.'</p> + +<p>'My dear Mollie, please do not call yourself names—you are +certainly no dunce.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">{188}</a></span></p> + +<p>'I don't mean to be one any longer,' replied Mollie, brightening +up. 'Oh, Miss Ross, what do you think Cyril says! +that I am not to help Biddy any more, and that we are to +have a woman in to do the rough work. I don't think +mamma was quite pleased when he talked about it. She said +it was uncalled-for extravagance, and that we really could not +afford it; that a little work did not hurt me, and that I ought +to be glad to make myself useful. Mamma was almost +annoyed with Cyril, but he always knows how to soothe her +down. Of course it will be as he wishes, and mamma has +promised to speak to you about a woman; and so I shall +have plenty of time to do my lessons; and it will be my own +fault if I am a dunce now,' finished Mollie, with a close +hug, as the thick shrubs screened them from any prying +eyes.</p> + +<p>'Poor little soul! I must help her all I can,' thought +Audrey, as she walked on to the house. 'I am glad her +brother takes her part;' and then her brother-in-law met her +in the porch and took her into the morning-room, where the +two ladies were sitting, and where Geraldine welcomed her +as though months, and not hours, had separated them.</p> + +<p>Audrey's first visit had always been paid to the O'Briens; +so the following afternoon she started off for Brail as a matter +of course.</p> + +<p>'Perhaps you will come and have tea with mother, Gage,' +she had said on bidding her sister good-bye; 'my Brail afternoons +always keep me out until dinner-time;' and Geraldine +had generously assented to this. She admired Audrey's benevolence +in walking all those miles to see her old friend; the +whole family took a lively interest in honest Tom O'Brien, +though it must be allowed that Mrs. Baxter was by no means +a favourite.</p> + +<p>Audrey would have enjoyed her walk more if she could +have kept her thoughts free from Mr. Blake; but, unfortunately, +the long grassy lanes she was just entering only recalled +the time when he had carried Booty and had walked with her +to the gate of Woodcote; and she found herself wondering, +in a vexed manner, as to the cause of the gravity that had +excited his mother's uneasiness.</p> + +<p>But she grew impatient with herself presently.</p> + +<p>'After all, what does it matter to me?' she thought, as +she stopped to gather some red leaves. 'I daresay it was +only Miss Frances, after all.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">{189}</a></span></p> + +<p>And then she recoiled with a sort of shock, for actually +within a few feet of her was a tall figure in a brown tweed coat. +She had been so busy with her thoughts and the red and +yellow leaves that she had not seen Mr. Blake leaning against +the gate that led into the ploughed field. She might even +have passed him, if he had not started up and confronted her.</p> + +<p>'Miss Ross,' grasping her hand, 'please let me gather those +for you; they are too difficult for you to reach—the ditch is +so wide. How many do you want? Do you care for that bit +of barberry?'</p> + +<p>'Thank you; I think I have enough now,' returned Audrey +very gravely.</p> + +<p>She was quite unprepared for this meeting. She had seen +the flash of joy in his eyes as he sprang forward to meet her, +and she was annoyed to feel that her own cheeks were burning. +And she was clear-sighted enough to notice something else—that +Mr. Blake was talking eagerly and gathering the coloured +leaves at random, as though he hardly knew what he was +doing, and that, after that first look, he was avoiding her +eye, as though he were afraid that he had betrayed himself. +Audrey's maidenly consciousness was up in arms in a moment. +The gleam in Cyril's eyes had opened hers. Some instinct of +self-defence made her suddenly entrench herself in stiffness; +the soft graciousness that was Audrey's chief charm seemed +to desert her, and for once in her life she was a little abrupt.</p> + +<p>'There is no need to gather any more, thank you. I have +all I want, and I am in a great hurry;' and she held out her +hand for the leaves.</p> + +<p>But Cyril withheld them.</p> + +<p>'Let me carry them for you,' he returned, evidently trying +to speak as usual; but his voice was not quite in order. 'I +know where you are going—to that pretty, old-fashioned +cottage with the jasmine-covered porch; it is not far, and I +have not seen you for so long.' Then he stopped suddenly, +as though something in Audrey's manner arrested him. 'That +is, if you do not object,' he finished, with a pleading look.</p> + +<p>But for once Audrey was obdurate.</p> + +<p>'Thank you, I would rather carry them myself. There is +no need to take you out of your way.'</p> + +<p>Audrey felt that her tone was cold—that she was utterly +unlike herself; but her one thought was to get rid of him. +But she need not have feared Cyril's importunity. He drew +back at once, and put the leaves in her hand without speaking;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">{190}</a></span> +but he turned very pale, and there was a hurt look in his eyes. +Audrey put out her hand to him, but he did not seem to +see it; he only muttered something that sounded like 'Good-morning,' +as he lifted his cap and went back to the gate. +Audrey walked on very fast, but her cheeks would not cool, +and a miserable feeling of discomfort harassed her. She was +vexed with him, but still more with herself. Why need she +have taken alarm so quickly? It was not like her to be so +missish and disagreeable. Why had she been so cold, so unfriendly, +just because he seemed a little too pleased to see her?</p> + +<p>And now she had hurt him terribly—she was quite sure of +that—she who never willingly offended anyone. He had been +too proud, too gentlemanly, to obtrude himself where he was +evidently not wanted; but his pained, reproachful look as he +drew back would haunt her for the rest of the day. And, then, +how splendidly handsome he had looked! She had once likened +him to a Greek god, but it may be doubted whether even the +youthful Apollo had seemed more absolutely perfect when he +revealed himself in human form to some Athenian votary, than +Cyril Blake in the glory of his young manhood. Audrey had +not recognised this so keenly before.</p> + +<p>'I must make it up to him somehow. I cannot bear to +quarrel with anyone. I would rather do anything than hurt +his feelings,' she thought; and it needed all her excellent +common-sense to prevent her from running back to say a kind +word to him.</p> + +<p>'I was in a hurry—I was too abrupt; I did not mean to +be unkind'—this was what she longed to say to him. 'Please +come with me as far as the cottage, and tell me all you have +been doing.' Well, and what withheld her from such a natural +course—from making her amends in this graceful and generous +fashion? Simply that same maidenly instinct of self-preservation. +She did not go back; she dare not trust herself +with Cyril Blake, because she was afraid of him, and perhaps—though +this was not quite so clear to her—she was afraid of +herself. But, all the same, she was very miserable—for doing +one's duty does not always make one happy—and she felt the +joy of her home-coming was already marred; for, with a person +of Audrey's temperament, there is no complete enjoyment if +she were not in thorough harmony with everyone. One false +note, one 'little rift within the lute,' and the whole melody is +spoiled. So Audrey's gaiety seemed all quenched that afternoon, +and though her old friend testified the liveliest satisfaction at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">{191}</a></span> +the sight of her, and Priscilla could not make enough of her, +she was conscious that, as far as her own pleasure was concerned, +the visit was a failure.</p> + +<p>But she was aware that no one but herself was conscious +of this fact. Certainly not honest Tom O'Brien, as he sat +smoking his pipe in the porch, and listening to her descriptions +of Highland scenery with a beaming face; neither was Mrs. +Baxter a keen observer, as she testified by her parting speech.</p> + +<p>'You have done father a world of good, Miss Ross,' she said, +as she walked down to the little gate with Audrey. 'I think +there is no one he so loves to see, or who cheers him up in +the same way as you do. You are young, you see, and young +people take more cheerful views of life; and it is easy to see +you have not a care on you. Not that I begrudge you your +happiness, for no one deserves it more; and long may it continue, +Miss Ross,' finished Mrs. Baxter, with her usual mournfulness.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">{192}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI</h2> + +<h3>'HE IS VERY BRAVE'</h3> + +<table summary="quotation"> +<tr><td> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse">'Ah! life grows lovely where you are;</div> +<div class="vind2">Only to think of you gives light</div> +<div class="vind2">To my dark heart; within whose night</div> +<div class="verse">Your image, though you hide afar,</div> +<div class="verse">Glows like a lake-reflected star.'</div> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<div class="sign"><span class="smcap">Mathilde Blind.</span></div> +</div> +</td></tr> +</table> + + +<p>For the first time Audrey closed the little gate of Vineyard +Cottage with a sense of relief that her visit was over. The +two hours she had just passed had been quite an ordeal to her. +True, she had exerted herself to some purpose: she had talked +and amused her old friend; she had partaken of Mrs. Baxter's +cakes; she had even summoned up a semblance of gaiety that +had wholly deceived them. But all the time her heart had +been heavy within her, and her remembrance of Cyril's grieved +look came between her and enjoyment.</p> + +<p>It had been a lovely afternoon when she had started for her +walk, but now some heavy clouds were obscuring the blue sky. +The air felt heavy and oppressive, and Audrey quickened her +steps, fearing lest a storm should overtake her in the long +unsheltered lanes that still lay between her and home. She +drew her breath a little as she approached the place where she +had parted with Cyril more than two hours ago. Then she +gave a great start, and again the blood rushed to her face, for +through a gap in the hedge she could see a brown tweed coat +quite plainly. He was still there—still in the same position. +She could see the line of his shoulders as he stooped a little +over the gate, with the peak of his cap drawn over his eyes.</p> + +<p>Audrey slackened her pace. She felt a little breathless and +giddy. She would have to pass him quite close, and, of course, +if he meant to speak to her——But no: though he heard<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">{193}</a></span> +her footsteps, and half turned his head and seemed to listen, +he did not move his arms from the gate. He evidently meant +to take no advantage, to let her pass him if she wished to +do so. Audrey could read this determination in his averted +face. Most likely he wished her to think that his abstraction +was too great to allow him to notice her light footfall; he would +make it easy for her to pass him—a man's eyes can only see +what they are looking at. But this time Audrey's prudence +counselled her in vain; her soft heart would not allow her to +go past him as a stranger. She stopped and looked at him; +but Cyril did not turn his head.</p> + +<p>'Mr. Blake,' she said gently; and then he did move slightly.</p> + +<p>'I am not in your way, I hope,' he said rather coldly. 'I +did not know it was so late, or I would have gone back. Please +do not let me keep you, Miss Ross; I am afraid there will be a +storm directly.'</p> + +<p>'In that case you had better come with me,' she returned, +trying to speak with her usual friendly ease. But his proud, +sad look rather daunted her. How could she leave him and go +on her way, when he seemed so utterly cast down and miserable; +and it was all her fault? 'Please do not shake your head, Mr. +Blake. I know you are hurt with me because I was rather +abrupt just now; but I meant nothing at all, only that I was +in a hurry, and——'</p> + +<p>'That you did not wish for my company,' he added +bitterly.</p> + +<p>'Oh, Mr. Blake!'</p> + +<p>'You are right—quite right,' he went on, in a tone that +pierced Audrey's heart, it was so hopeless, so full of pain; and +now he did place himself at her side. 'I do not blame you in +the least; it was the truest kindness. I can see that now. It +is not your fault that I have been a fool. Miss Ross, I wished +you to pass; I never meant to speak or to obtrude myself on +you, but you stopped of your own accord.'</p> + +<p>'I wished to apologise to you for my abruptness. I did not +like you to think me unkind.'</p> + +<p>'You are never unkind, you could not be if you tried,' he +returned in the same passionate tone; 'you are only so absolutely +true. You saw what I ought never to have shown +you, and you thought it only right to check me. Yes, I was +hurt for a moment, I will allow it. Perhaps in some sort of +sense I am hurt now. I suppose a man may own to being hurt +when his heart is half broken.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">{194}</a></span></p> + +<p>'Please, please do not talk so.'</p> + +<p>'I will promise never to talk so again,' he returned with sad +humility; 'but I have gone too far to stop now.'</p> + +<p>'No, oh no!' trying to check him; but she might as well +have tried to check a river that had broken bonds. For once +Cyril determined that he would be heard.</p> + +<p>'It is your own fault,' he returned, looking at her; 'you +should have passed on and left me to my misery. Yes, I am +miserable; and you have made me so: and yet for all that you +are not to be blamed. How could I see you, how could I be +with you, and not love you? I have loved you from the very +first hour I saw you.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, hush, hush!' Audrey was half sobbing. There were +great tears rolling down her face; she could hardly bear to +hear him or to look at him, his face was so white and strained.</p> + +<p>'I must always love you,' he went on in the same low concentrated +voice. 'I have never seen anyone like you; there is +not another girl in the world who would do as you are doing. +How can I help losing my heart to you? No man could, in +my position.'</p> + +<p>'I am very sorry,' she murmured.</p> + +<p>'Do not be sorry'—and then he saw her tears, and his +voice softened from its vehemence and became very gentle. +'You are so kind that I know you would spare me this pain if +you could—but it is not in your power; neither is it in mine. +Do not be afraid of me,' he went on quickly, as she would have +spoken. 'Remember I am asking you for nothing. I expect +nothing. What right have I to aspire to such as you? Even +if I have dared to dream, my dreams are at an end now, when +you have shown me so plainly——' He stopped and turned +aside his face, but no words could have been so eloquent as that +silence.</p> + +<p>'Mr. Blake, will you let me say something? I am grieved, +grieved to the heart, that this should have happened. If I +could have prevented it, not a word of all this should have been +spoken; but it is too late to say so now.'</p> + +<p>'Far, far too late!'</p> + +<p>'So we must make the best of it. I must try to forget all +that has passed, and, Mr. Blake, you must promise me to do +the same.'</p> + +<p>'I have promised,' he returned proudly. 'I promised you +of my own accord that I would never talk to you in this way +again; but you must not ask anything more of me.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">{195}</a></span></p> + +<p>'May I not?' in rather a faltering voice.</p> + +<p>'It would be useless,' he replied quickly. 'I can never +leave off loving you. I would part with my life first. I think +I am not one of those men who could ever love twice. I am +young, still something tells me this; but all the same you have +nothing to fear from me. I know your position and mine.'</p> + +<p>'You must not speak as though we were not equal,' she +said, in her desire to comfort him and raise him up from his +despondency; 'it is not that. What does one's poverty or +wealth matter?'</p> + +<p>'No, it is not that,' he answered, with a significance that +made her lower her eyes; 'in one sense we are equals, for one +cannot be more or less than a gentleman, and when one has +youth and strength, and a moderate amount of talents, one can +always raise one's self to the level of the woman one loves. +And if I had thought that you could ever have cared for +me——' His voice trembled; he could not proceed.</p> + +<p>'Mr. Blake, I must beg, I do entreat you to say no more.' +Audrey's lips were quivering; she looked quite pale. At that +moment she could bear no more.</p> + +<p>'Forgive me,' he said remorsefully. 'I was thinking more +of myself than you. I am trying you too much.'</p> + +<p>She could not deny this, but with her usual unselfishness +she strove again for some comforting word.</p> + +<p>'It will be as though you had not spoken,' she said, in so +low a voice that he had to stoop to hear her. 'It will be +sacred, quite sacred; do not let it spoil everything—we—I +have been so happy; let us try to remain good friends.'</p> + +<p>'I will try my best, but it will be very hard.' Perhaps, if +she had seen his face that moment, she would have known that +what she asked was impossible. How could he be friends with +this girl? Even while he assented to that innocent request he +knew it could never be.</p> + +<p>'Miss Ross,' he said suddenly, for his position was becoming +too difficult for him, and it was his duty to shield her as much +as possible, 'we are just in the town, and perhaps it would be +better for me to drop behind a little. It will not do for people +to notice; and now the rain is beginning, and if you do not +hurry on you will be wet.'</p> + +<p>'Very well,' she returned; and then rather timidly she put +out her hand to him. Cyril did not ignore it this time; he +held it fast for a moment.</p> + +<p>'You have been good, very patient with me,' he said rather<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">{196}</a></span> +huskily. 'Thank you for that, as well as for everything else: +and then he stepped aside and waited for her to leave him.</p> + +<p>Audrey's limbs were trembling; she had never felt so agitated +in her life. She hurried on, panting a little with her haste; +but the drops fell faster and faster, and just at the entrance to +the town she was obliged to take refuge in a shed by the roadside. +The street was dark, and she knew no one could see her. +She would have time to recover herself a little before she had +to answer all her mother's anxious questions. There was a carpenter's +bench and a pile of planks; she sat down on them, and +looked out at the heavy torrents of rain. By and by Cyril +passed, but he did not notice her; he was walking very fast +and his head was erect, as though he were not conscious of the +rain beating down on him. Audrey shrank back a little as she +saw him. 'He is young, but he is strong,' she said to herself; +'he is almost as strong as Michael;' and then her tears flowed +again, but she wiped them away a little impatiently. 'I must +be strong, too, for his sake as well as my own; it will never do +for people to find out his secret. He must be spared as much +as possible. I must help him all I can.' But as she argued +herself into calmness she told herself again and again how +thankful she was that Michael was away. Michael was so +observant, so clear-sighted, that it was impossible to hoodwink +him. He had a terrible habit of going straight to the point, +of putting questions that one could hardly evade. He would +have seen in a moment that she had been crying, and any +refusal on her part to satisfy his inquiries would only have +deepened his suspicions. 'I could not have faced Michael,' she +thought, as the rain suddenly stopped and she stepped out into +the wet gleaming roads.</p> + +<p>Audrey played her part in the conversation so badly that +night that Mrs. Ross observed, uneasily, that she was sure +Audrey had taken a chill:</p> + +<p>'For she is quite flushed, John,' she continued anxiously, +'and I noticed her shiver more than once. She has overheated +herself in that long walk, and then being caught in that +heavy rain has done the mischief.'</p> + +<p>Dr. Ross looked at his daughter. Perhaps, in spite of his +short-sight, he was more observant than his wife, for he took +the girl's face between his hands:</p> + +<p>'Go to bed, my child,' he said kindly, 'and I will finish +that game of chess with your mother;' and Audrey, with a +grateful kiss, obeyed him. But as Dr. Ross placed himself<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">{197}</a></span> +opposite his wife he seemed a little absent, as though he were +listening in vain for something. For it was Audrey's habit to +sing snatches of some gay tune as she mounted the stairs. +But to-night there was no 'Widow Miller'; it was the Doctor +who hummed the refrain to himself, as he captured an unwary +pawn:</p> + +<table summary="poem"> +<tr><td> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse">'When ye bind up the sheaves, leave out a few grains</div> +<div class="verse">To the heart-broken widow who never complains.'</div> +</div> +</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>Audrey felt that night as though she should never sing +again—as though she had committed some crime that must for +ever separate her from her old happy self.</p> + +<p>To most people this remorse for an unconscious fault would +have seemed morbid and exaggerated. Thousands of girls have +to inflict this sort of pain at least once in their lives; the +wrong man loves them, and the disastrous 'No' must be spoken. +Audrey had not even said 'No,' for nothing had been asked her—she +had only had to listen to a declaration of love, an +honest, manly confession, that had been wrung from the +speaker's lips. Wherein, then, did the blame consist? and +why was Audrey shedding such bitter tears as she sat by her +window that night looking over the dark garden? For a +hundred complex reasons, too involved and intricate to disentangle +in one brief hour.</p> + +<p>Audrey was accusing herself of blindness—of wilful and +foolish blindness. She ought to have seen, she must have seen, +to what all this was tending. Again and again Mr. Blake had +shown her quite plainly the extent of her influence over him. +Could she not have warned him in time to prevent this most +unhappy declaration? Would it not have been kinder to have +drawn back in the first months of their intimacy, and have +interposed some barrier of dignified reserve that would have +kept him silent for ever? But no! she had drawn him on: +not by coquetry—Audrey was far too high-minded to coquet +with any man—but simply by the warm friendliness of her +manner. She had liked his company; she had accepted his +attentions, not once had she repulsed him; and the consequence +was his attachment had grown and increased in intensity day +by day, until it had overmastered him. He had said that his +heart was almost broken, and it was her fault. What right +had she to be so kind to him, until her very softness and +graciousness had fed his wild hopes? Was it not true when +he had implied that his misery lay at her door?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">{198}</a></span></p> + +<p>Audrey felt as though her own heart was broken that night—such +a passion of pity and remorse swept over her. What +would she not give to undo it all!</p> + +<p>'If I could only bear some of his suffering,' she thought, +'if I could only comfort him, I should not care what became of +myself. I would sooner bear anything than incur this awful +responsibility of spoiling a life;' and Audrey wept again.</p> + +<p>But even at this miserable crisis she shrank from questioning +herself too closely. A sort of terror and strange beating at the +heart assailed her if she tried to look into her own thoughts. +Was there no subtle sweetness in the knowledge that she was +so beloved? No wish, lying deep down in her heart, that it +might have been possible to comfort him?</p> + +<p>'It would not do—it would not do. I am sure of him, but +not of myself,' she thought, 'and it would make them all so +unhappy. If I could only think it right——' and then she +stopped, and there was a sad, sad look in her eyes. 'I will not +think of it any more to-night.' And then she knelt and, in her +simple girlish way, prayed that God would forgive her, for she +had been wrong, miserably wrong; and would comfort him, and +make it possible for them to remain friends: 'for I do not wish +to lose him,' thought Audrey, as she laid her head on her pillow +that, for once in her bright young life, seemed sown with thorns.</p> + +<p>It seemed to Audrey as though she had never passed a more +uncomfortable three weeks than those that followed that unfortunate +talk in the Brail lanes; and, in spite of all her +efforts to appear as though nothing had happened, her looks and +gravity were noticed by both Mrs. Ross and Geraldine.</p> + +<p>'I told your father that it was a chill,' observed Mrs. Ross, +on more than one occasion. 'She is growing thin, and her +eyes are so heavy in the morning. There is nothing worse than +a suppressed cold,' she went on anxiously, for even a small +ailment in one of her children always called forth her motherly +solicitude.</p> + +<p>But Geraldine held another opinion. Audrey never took +cold; she had often got wet through in Scotland, and it had +never hurt her. She thought it more probable that Audrey +was troubled about something—perhaps she missed Michael, or—then +she paused, and looked at her mother with significance—perhaps, +who knows? she might even be a little hurt at Mr. +Blake's desertion. For a certain little bird—that fabulous +winged purveyor of gossip, dear to the feminine mind—had +whispered into young Mrs. Harcourt's ear a most curious story.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">{199}</a></span> +It was said that Mr. Blake had fallen deeply in love with a +Cornish beauty, a certain Miss Frances Hackett, and that his +moody looks were all owing to this.</p> + +<p>'Edith has seen her,' went on Geraldine, as she repeated +this story with immense relish; 'she is a pretty little thing, a +dark-eyed brunette. The Hacketts are very wealthy people, and +they say Miss Frances will have a few thousand pounds of her +own; so he will be lucky if he gets her. Perhaps the père +Hackett is obdurate, and this may account for Mr. Blake's +gloom—for he is certainly very bad company just now.'</p> + +<p>'Your father thinks he looks very ill; he was speaking to +me about him last night. It is wonderful what a fancy he has +taken to him.'</p> + +<p>'I think we all like him,' returned Geraldine, who could +afford to praise him now her fears about Audrey were removed. +'Miss Frances might do worse for herself. He is very clever—a +rising young man, as Percy says—and then he is so handsome: +a girl might well lose her heart to him.'</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ross was quite willing to regard Mr. Blake as Miss +Frances' suitor—an unhappy lover was sure to excite her +warmest sympathy—but she was a little shocked and scandalised +at Geraldine's hint.</p> + +<p>'My dear,' she said, in a more dignified tone than she usually +employed to her eldest daughter, 'I do not think you have any +right to say such a thing of your sister. Audrey is the last +girl in the world to fancy any man was in love with her, or to +trouble herself because he chose to fall in love with some one +else. I have often seen her and Mr. Blake together—he has +dined here a dozen times—and her manner has always been +perfectly friendly with him, as frank as possible—just as it is to +Michael.'</p> + +<p>'I thought she seemed a little constrained and uncomfortable +last night when Mr. Blake came into the room,' returned +Geraldine, who certainly seemed to notice everything; but she +knew her mother too well to say more just then.</p> + +<p>With all her softness, Mrs. Ross had a great deal of +womanly dignity, and nothing would have ruffled her more than +to be made to believe that one of her girls cared for a man who +had just given his heart to another woman, and that Audrey—her +bright, unselfish Audrey—should be that girl. No, she +would never have been brought to believe it.</p> + +<p>Audrey was quite aware that her sister's eyes were upon +her, and she exerted herself to the utmost on every occasion<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">{200}</a></span> +when Geraldine was present. But gaiety was very far from +her, and she felt each day, with a certain sickness of heart, that +her burden was growing too heavy for her. Her position with +regard to Mr. Blake was becoming more difficult. In spite of +his efforts to see as little as possible of her, circumstances were +perpetually throwing them together. Every day they met at +luncheon; she must still keep her seat between him and her +father, but how differently that hour passed now! Instead of +that eager, low-toned talk, that merry interchange of daily news +and plans, Cyril would be absorbed in his carving, in his supervision +of the boys; he seemed to have no leisure to talk to +Audrey. A grave remark upon the weather, a brief question or +two, and then he turned to his fellow-master, Mr. Greville. +Audrey never tried to divert his attention; she listened to the +two young men a little wearily. Politics could still interest him, +she thought; yes, politics were always safe. Once, when he +had no excuse to offer—for he was very ready with his excuses—he +joined them at the family dinner. Audrey never passed +such a miserable evening. She sat opposite him; there was +no other guest to break the awkwardness—only Mr. Blake and +her mother and father and herself.</p> + +<p>It was the first time she had been compelled to look at him, +and she was painfully struck with the alteration in him. Her +father was right; he certainly looked ill. He was thinner, +older, and there were dark lines under his eyes. Just at that +moment Cyril seemed to become aware of her scrutiny; their +eyes met, but it was Audrey who blushed and looked embarrassed. +Cyril did not flinch, only his right hand contracted +under the table-cloth. She played chess with him afterwards. +There was no help for it; Dr. Ross had proposed it. Audrey +was so nervous that she played shamefully, and lost her queen +at the third move.</p> + +<p>'How stupid of me!' she said, trying to laugh it off.</p> + +<p>Cyril looked at her very gravely.</p> + +<p>'I am afraid you find this a bore,' he said, with such evident +understanding of her nervousness that the tears came to her eyes.</p> + +<p>When they had played a little longer, he suddenly jumbled +the pieces together.</p> + +<p>'It is unfair to take advantage of you any longer,' he said, +jumping up; 'no one can play without a queen, and you have +lost your castles and one of your knights, and I was just going +to take the other. It is only trying your patience for nothing; +the game is mine.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">{201}</a></span></p> + +<p>'Yes, it is yours,' returned Audrey, in rather a melancholy +voice.</p> + +<p>Why had he ended it so abruptly? Could he have noticed +how her hand shook? How very nervous she had been! She +did not dare look at him as he bade her good-night.</p> + +<p>'I must go,' she heard him say to Dr. Ross. 'I have work +to finish;' and then he went out, and she heard the door close +behind him.</p> + +<p>'Is it always to be like this?' thought Audrey, as she stood +by her window. 'Will he never speak to me or look at me +again in the old way? To-night he went away to spare me, +because he saw how uncomfortable I was. He is very brave; +I suppose a man's pride helps him. Somehow, I think it is +easier for him than me. Perhaps I am different from other +women, but I always feel as though I would rather bear pain +myself than inflict it on another person.'</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">{202}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII</h2> + +<h3>'NO, YOU HAVE NOT SPARED ME'</h3> + +<table summary="quotation"> +<tr><td> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse">'Thy word unspoken thou canst any day</div> +<div class="verse">Speak; but thy spoken ne'er again unsay.'</div> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<div class="sign"><i>Eastern Proverb</i>—<span class="smcap">Trench.</span></div> +</div> +</td></tr> +</table> + + +<p>Michael was still away. The business that detained him +was not to be settled as easily as he had expected; there were +complications—a host of minor difficulties. He was unwilling +to return until things were definitely arranged.</p> + +<p>'I am too proud of my present position,' he wrote to Audrey; +'the mere fact that I am of some use in the world, and that +one human being feels my advice helpful to him, quite reconciles +me to my prolonged absence. Of course I mean to keep Kester +with me. He is perfectly happy, and fairly revels in London +sights. He and Fred are thick as thieves. Abercrombie saw +him the other day—you know who I mean: Donald Abercrombie. +He is a consulting physician now, and is making +quite a name for himself. He has good-naturedly promised to +look into the case. He says, from the little he has seen, he is +sure the boy has been neglected, and that care and medical +skill could have done much for him in the beginning. Abercrombie +is just the fellow to interest himself thoroughly in a +case like Kester's, and I have great hopes of the result. I +have written to his brother, but perhaps you would be wise to +say as little as possible to Mrs. Blake. She is far too sanguine +by nature; and it would never do to excite hopes that might +never be gratified. Mr. Blake is of a different calibre; he will +look at the thing more sensibly.'</p> + +<p>Audrey sighed as she laid aside Michael's letter. She seemed +to miss him more every day, and yet she was quite willing that +his absence should be prolonged. Michael would have noticed +her want of spirits in a moment; she would never have been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">{203}</a></span> +free from his affectionate surveillance. At a distance everything +was so much easier; she could write cheerfully; she could fill +the sheets with small incidents and matters of local interest, +with pleasant inquiries about himself and Kester.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, Michael's face grew graver over each letter. +He could not have told himself what was lacking to his entire +satisfaction, only some strange subtle chord of sympathy, as +delicate as it was unerring, warned him that all was not right +with the girl.</p> + +<p>'She is not as bright as usual,' he thought. 'Audrey's +letters are generally overflowing with fun. There is a grave, +almost a forced, tone about this last one. And she so seldom +mentions the Blakes.'</p> + +<p>Audrey had certainly avoided the Gray Cottage during the +last three weeks; even Mollie's lessons were irksome to her. +Mollie's tongue was not easily silenced. In spite of all her +efforts, her cheeks often burnt at the girl's innocent loquacity. +Mollie was for ever making awkward speeches or asking questions +that Audrey found difficult to answer; she would chatter +incessantly about her mother and Cyril.</p> + +<p>'Mamma is so dreadfully worried about Cyril!' she said +once. 'She wants him to speak to Dr. Powell; she is quite +sure that he is ill. He hardly eats anything—at least, he has +no appetite—and mamma says that is so strange in a young +man. And he walks about his room half the night; Biddy +hears him. You recollect that evening he dined at Woodcote? +Well, he never came home that night until past twelve, and +Biddy declares that his bed was not slept in at all; he must +just have thrown himself down on it for an hour or two. And +he had such a bad headache the next morning.'</p> + +<p>Audrey walked to the piano and threw it open.</p> + +<p>'I am very sorry your brother is not well,' she said in rather +a forced voice, as she flecked a little dust off the legs. 'Mollie, +I think Caroline has forgotten to dust the piano this morning. +Will you hand me that feather-brush, please? I want you to +try this duet with me; it is such a pretty one!' And after +that Mollie's fingers were kept so hard at work that she found +no more opportunity for talking about Cyril.</p> + +<p>Another time, as Audrey looked over her French exercise, +she heard a deep sigh, and glancing up from the book, found +Mollie gazing at her with round sorrowful eyes.</p> + +<p>'Well, what now?' she asked a little sharply.</p> + +<p>'Oh, I am so sorry, Miss Ross!' returned Mollie, faltering<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">{204}</a></span> +and turning red; 'I am so dreadfully sorry, Miss Ross, that +Cyril has offended you. I thought you were such good friends, +but now——' She stopped, somewhat abashed at Audrey's +displeased expression.</p> + +<p>'My dear Mollie, I have never been really vexed with you before; +but you will annoy me excessively if you talk such nonsense. +I am not in the least offended with your brother—whatever +made you say such a thing?—and we are perfectly good friends.'</p> + +<p>Audrey spoke with much dignity as she took up her pen again.</p> + +<p>Poor Mollie looked very much frightened.</p> + +<p>'Oh dear, Miss Ross,' she said penitently, 'you are not +really cross with me, are you? It was not my own idea; only +mamma said last night that she was sure you were offended +about something, for you never come to see us now, and your +manner was so different when she spoke to you after chapel on +Sunday; and then she said perhaps Cyril had offended you.'</p> + +<p>'I tell you it is all nonsense, Mollie!'</p> + +<p>'Yes, but I am sure there is something,' returned Mollie, +half crying, for Audrey had never been impatient with her before. +'Cyril will never let me talk to him about you; he gets up and +leaves the room when mamma begins wondering why you never +come. Cyril was quite cross when she asked him to give you a +message the other day. "It is more in Mollie's line," he said; +"I never can remember messages," and he walked away, and +mamma cried, and said she could not think what had happened +to him—that he had never been cross with her in his life before; +but that now she hardly dared open her lips to him, he took +her up so.'</p> + +<p>Audrey sighed wearily, then she gave Mollie a comforting +little pat.</p> + +<p>'Mollie, dear,' she said kindly, 'I did not mean to be cross +with you; but you do say such things, you know, and really +you are old enough to know better'—and as Mollie only looked +at her wonderingly—'oh, go away!—you are a dear little soul; +but you talk as though you were a baby; no one is offended. +If your brother is not well, why cannot you leave him in peace? +I don't think you understand that men never like to be +questioned about their ailments; they are not like women. +Cornwall certainly did not agree with him.'</p> + +<p>'Do you think it is only that? Oh, I won't say another +word if you will only not be cross with me;' and Mollie relieved +her feelings by one of her strangling hugs.</p> + +<p>Mollie was quite used to people finding fault with her and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">{205}</a></span> +telling her she was a goose. When Audrey kissed her, she sat +down and copied her exercise in a humble and contrite spirit; it +was Audrey who felt sad and spiritless the rest of the day. 'It +has gone deeper than I thought; it has gone very deep,' she said +with a sort of shiver, as she walked up to Hillside that afternoon.</p> + +<p>But a far worse ordeal was before Audrey—one that threw +all Mollie's girlish chatter into the shade. A few days afterwards +she received a little note from Mrs. Blake.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>'<span class="smcap">My dear Miss Ross</span>,' it began,</p> + +<p>'I am nearly desperate. What have Mollie or I done +that we should be sent to Coventry after this fashion? At +least, not Mollie—I am wrong there: Mollie still basks in the +light of your smiles, is still allowed to converse with you; it is +only I who seem to be debarred from such privileges. Now, +my dear creature, what can you mean by keeping away from us +like this? I was at Woodcote yesterday, but you had flown. I +had to sit and chat with Mrs. Ross instead; she is delightful, +but she is not her daughter; no one but yourself can ever fill +your place; no one can be Miss Ross. Now will you make us +amends for all this unfriendliness? If you will only come to +tea with me to-morrow I will promise you full forgiveness and +the warmest of welcomes.</p> + +<p> +'Yours affectionately but resentfully,<span class="sep"> </span><span class="smcap">M. Blake.</span>'<br /> +</p></div> + +<p>Audrey wrote a pretty playful little answer to this. She +was sorry to be accused of unfriendliness, but nothing was +farther from her thoughts; she was very busy, very much +engaged. Relays of parents had been interviewing them at +Woodcote; her sister had not been well, and all her afternoons +had been spent at Hillside. Mrs. Blake must be lenient; she +would come soon, very soon, and so on. Mrs. Blake was more +formidable than Mollie, and Audrey was determined to delay +her visit as long as possible. Just now she had a good excuse. +Geraldine was a little delicate and ailing, and either she or her +mother went daily to Hillside.</p> + +<p>Audrey breathed more freely when she had sent off her note; +she had given it into Cyril's hand at luncheon—a sudden +impulse made her choose that mode of delivery.</p> + +<p>'I wish you would give this to your mother,' she said, +addressing him suddenly as he sat beside her. 'She wants me +to have tea with her to-morrow; but it is impossible, I have so +much to do just now.'</p> + +<p>'I could have told her; there was no need for you to write<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">{206}</a></span> +or to trouble yourself in any way. I am afraid my mother is +rather exacting; it is a Blake foible.' He smiled as he spoke, +and there was no special meaning in his tone; he seemed to +take it as a matter of course that Audrey's visits to the Cottage +had ceased. 'It will be all right,' he said, as he put the letter +in his breast-pocket; and then he stopped and called some boy +to order. 'You will stay in after luncheon, Roberts,' he said +severely, and after that he did not speak again to Audrey.</p> + +<p>But that letter, strange to say, brought things to a climax. +The very next morning Mollie gave Audrey a note.</p> + +<p>'It is from mamma,' she said, rather timidly. 'Would you +like me to begin my piece, Miss Ross, while you read it?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, certainly; but it does not seem a long letter.' And, +indeed, it only contained a few words:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>'<span class="smcap">Dear Miss Ross</span>,</p> + +<p>'I must see you. If you will not come to me, will you +tell Mollie when I may call? But I must and will speak to +you alone.'</p></div> + +<p>Audrey twisted up the paper in her hand; then she stood +behind Mollie and beat time for a moment.</p> + +<p>'Mollie,' she said hurriedly, as she turned over the page, +'will you tell your mother that I will come to her this afternoon +a little before three? I shall not be able to stay, but just for +half an hour;' and then she sat down and quietly and patiently +pointed out how an erring passage ought to be played. But +there was a tired look on her face long before the lesson ended.</p> + +<p>All her life long Audrey never forgot the strange chill sensation +that came over her as she read that note; it was as though +some dim, overmastering force were impelling her against her +own will. As she crushed the letter in her hand, she told +herself that circumstances were becoming too strong for her.</p> + +<p>Her face was very grave that afternoon as she pushed open +the green gate and walked up to the open door. It seemed +to her as though she were someone else, as she crossed the +threshold and stood for a moment in the little hall. Biddy +came out of the kitchen. The mistress was in the drawing-room, +she said, and Miss Mollie was out; and Audrey, still +with that strange weight at her heart, went upstairs slowly. +Mrs. Blake was sitting in her usual seat by the window. She +rose without speaking and took Audrey's hands, but there was +no smile upon her face. She looked very pale, and Audrey +could see at once that she had been weeping.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">{207}</a></span></p> + +<p>'You have come,' she said quietly; 'I thought my letter would +bring you. Perhaps it was wrong of me to write; I ought to +have come to you instead. But how was I to speak to you alone? +Last night I was almost desperate, and then I was obliged to send +for you.'</p> + +<p>'If you wanted me so much, of course you were right to +send for me.'</p> + +<p>Audrey was conscious that her manner was cold, and that +her voice was hardly as sympathetic as usual. She was sure +Mrs. Blake noticed it, for her eyes filled with tears.</p> + +<p>'Oh, how coldly you speak! My poor boy has indeed +offended you deeply. Oh, I know everything; he was too +unhappy last night to hide it any longer from his mother. Do +you know what he said to me?—that with all his strength he +could not bear it, and that he must go away.'</p> + +<p>'Go away—leave Rutherford?'</p> + +<p>'Yes;' and now the tears were streaming down her face, +and her voice was almost choked with sobs. 'He said he must +give it up, and that we must all go away—that the effort is +killing him, and that no man could bear such an ordeal. Oh, +Miss Ross'—as Audrey averted her face—'I know you are +sorry for him; but think what it was for his mother to stand +by and hear him say such things. My boy—my brave, noble-hearted +boy, who has never given me an hour's pain in his life!'</p> + +<p>'And you have sent for me to tell me this?'</p> + +<p>There was something proud, almost resentful, in Audrey's tone.</p> + +<p>'Yes; but you must not be angry with me. I think that, +if Cyril knew that I was betraying him, he would never give me +his confidence again. Last night I heard him walking about +his room, and I went up to him. He wanted to send me +away, but I would not go. I knelt down beside him and put +my arms round his neck, and told him that I had found out his +secret. It had come to me with a sudden flash as I sat beside +him in chapel last Sunday. You passed up the aisle, and I saw +his face, and then I knew what ailed him. And in the darkness +I whispered in his ear, "My poor boy, you love Audrey Ross!"'</p> + +<p>Audrey put up one hand to shield her face, but she made +no remark. She must hear it all; she had brought this misery +upon them, and she must not refuse to share it.</p> + +<p>'He owned it then. I will not tell you what he said; it +must be sacred between my boy and me. Oh, you do not know +him! His nature is intense, like mine; he takes nothing +easily. When he says that it is killing him by inches, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">{208}</a></span> +that we must go away, I know he is speaking the truth. How +is he to live here, seeing you every day, and knowing that there +is no love for him in your heart? How could any man drag +out such a hopeless existence?'</p> + +<p>'Such things are done every day.' Audrey hardly knew what +she was saying. A dull pain seemed to contract her heart; +he was going away. Somehow, this thought had never occurred +to her.</p> + +<p>'Yes, but not by men of Cyril's nature. He is strong, but +his very strength seems to make him suffer more keenly. If +he stayed here, people would begin to talk; he would not +always be able to hide what he felt. He thinks he ought to +go away for your sake. "I am giving her pain now, and by +and by it will be worse"—those were his very words.'</p> + +<p>'I think it would be braver to stay on here. Will you tell +him so, Mrs. Blake?'</p> + +<p>'No, Miss Ross, I will not tell him so; I will not consent to +see him slowly tortured. If he tells us we must go, I will not +say a dissenting word. What is my own comfort compared +to his? I have had a hard life, God knows! and now it will +be harder still.'</p> + +<p>'But you have other children to consider,' remonstrated +Audrey faintly. 'If you leave here, Mollie and Kester will be +sacrificed. Surely, you have put this before him.'</p> + +<p>'No, indeed, I have not; he has always been my first consideration. +Of course, I know how bad it will be for the poor +children; but if it comes to that—to choose between them and +Cyril——' And a strange, passionate look came into her eyes.</p> + +<p>'Hush, hush! I do not like to hear you talk so,' replied +Audrey. 'It is wrong; no mother ought to make such a +difference. You are not yourself, or you would not say such +things. It is all this trouble.'</p> + +<p>'Perhaps you are right,' she returned drearily. 'I think it +has half crazed me to know we must go away. Oh, if you +knew what my life has been, and what a haven of rest this has +seemed!' She looked round the room, and a sort of spasm +crossed her face. 'It is all so sweet and homelike, and he has +loved it so; and now to begin all afresh, and to go amongst +strangers—and then the loss——' She stopped as though +something seemed to choke her.</p> + +<p>Audrey felt as though she could hear no more. 'It is all +my fault,' she burst out; 'how you must hate me!' But Mrs. +Blake shook her head with a sad smile.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">{209}</a></span></p> + +<p>'I don't seem to have the power of hating you,' she said, so +gently that Audrey's lip quivered. 'How can I hate what my +boy loves?' and then she paused and looked at Audrey, as +though the sight of her suppressed emotion stirred some dim +hope within her: 'If I thought it would help him, I would +kneel at your feet like a beggar and pray you to have compassion +upon him; but I know what such pity would be worth—do +you think Cyril would accept any woman's pity?'</p> + +<p>'No, no,' and then Audrey rose and put out her hands in a +beseeching way. 'Will you let me go? Indeed, indeed, I can +bear no more——'</p> + +<p>'Yes, you shall go,' returned Mrs. Blake in a stifled tone. +'I have not been generous, I have spared you nothing, and yet +it is not your fault. You have not played with my boy's +heart; you never tried to win his heart. Cyril said so himself.'</p> + +<p>'No, you have not spared me,' was Audrey's answer, and +then the two women parted without kissing each other—Audrey +was too sore, too bewildered, for any such caress. They +stood holding each other's hands for a moment, and then Mrs. +Blake walked to the other end of the room and threw herself +down upon a couch. Audrey looked at her for an instant, then +she turned and went slowly down the stairs. But as she closed +the green gate after her, she told herself that she must be alone +for a little, and with a sudden impulse she turned into the +courtyard that led to the school-house and chapel. There was +one spot where she would be in perfect seclusion, and that was +the school library; even if some stray boy were to make his +appearance in search of a book—a very unlikely thing at this +time in the afternoon—her presence there would attract no +notice: she had several times chosen it as a cool, quiet retreat +on a hot summer's afternoon. The sight of the big shabby +room, with its pillars and book recesses and sloping desks, gave +her a momentary sense of relief. The stillness soothed her, and +the tumultuous singing in her head and ears seemed to lull. She +sat down in one of the inner recesses and looked out on the row of +ivy-covered studies and the little gate that led down to the town. +A tame jackdaw was hopping among the stones, and a couple +of fan-tail pigeons were strutting near him. The mellow brightness +of the October sunshine seemed to flood the whole court. +Oh, how peaceful it looked, how calm and still! and then Audrey +suddenly put down her face on her hands and cried like a baby. +'Oh, if it were only not my fault!' she sobbed; 'but I cannot, +cannot bear it,' and for a time she could do nothing but weep.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">{210}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> + +<h3>'DADDY, I WANT TO SPEAK TO YOU'</h3> + +<table summary="quotation"> +<tr><td> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="vind10">'To his eye</div> +<div class="verse">There was but one beloved face on earth,</div> +<div class="verse">And <i>that</i> was shining on him.'</div> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<div class="sign"><span class="smcap">Chapman.</span></div> +</div> +</td></tr> +</table> + + +<p>Audrey never knew how long she sat there, shedding those +healing tears, every one of which seemed to relieve her overcharged +heart; it was a luxury to sit there in that cool +shadowed stillness. Presently she would rouse herself and go +back to her world again; presently, but not just now! By +and by she would think it all out, she would question her own +heart more closely. Hitherto she had feared any such scrutiny—now +it would be selfish, cowardly, to avoid it any longer; +but at the present minute she was only conscious that she and +everyone else were miserable.</p> + +<p>At this moment she heard footsteps crossing the courtyard. +Then, to her dismay, they entered the lobby. She had only +just time to drag down a book from the shelves and open it +haphazard; it was a volume on natural history. Anyone +would have thought her absorbed, she pored so attentively over +that plate of gaudy butterflies, never raising her head to look +at the new-comer, who stood a few yards off regarding her with +unqualified astonishment. Cyril Blake—for it was he, and no +other, who had entered the library—would willingly have withdrawn +without attracting her notice; but one of the boys in the +sanatorium wanted a certain fascinating book of adventures, and +he had promised to fetch it. He knew the volume was in this +very recess, and he saw with some annoyance that it would be +necessary to disturb her.</p> + +<p>'Miss Ross,' he said, in that quiet, guarded tone in which he +always addressed her now, 'may I trouble you to move just for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">{211}</a></span> +one moment? I am so sorry to disturb you, but Willie +Taylor—' and then he stopped as though he were suddenly +petrified.</p> + +<p>Audrey had risen quickly, but as she moved aside he had a +full view of her face—the flushed cheeks and swollen eyelids +told their own tale.</p> + +<p>'Good heavens!' he exclaimed, forgetting his errand and +speaking in excessive agitation, 'you are unhappy—something +is the matter!' and Cyril turned quite pale.</p> + +<p>Poor Audrey! her feelings were not very enviable at that +moment. That she should be discovered by the very person +whom she was most anxious to avoid! If he would only go +away and leave her, and not stand there asking her questions! +But nothing was farther from Cyril's intentions. For the +minute he had forgotten everything, except that she was unhappy.</p> + +<p>'You are not well, or else something has been troubling you,' +he continued, and his voice softened with involuntary tenderness. +'Miss Ross, you promised that we should be friends—will you +not treat me as one now? There is nothing I would not do to +help you, if you would only tell me what is troubling you.'</p> + +<p>'It is impossible,' she returned with a little sob. Oh, if he +would only go away, and not speak to her so kindly! 'One +must be troubled sometimes, and no one can help me—if you +will only leave me to myself.'</p> + +<p>'Leave you like this?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, indeed—indeed. I cannot talk;' and Audrey wiped +away the tears that seemed to blind her. She so seldom gave +way—she so seldom permitted herself this feminine luxury of +tears—but when once she set them flowing they were simply +uncontrollable. She could not help what Cyril thought of her. +'If you would only go away,' she repeated, turning from him as +he stood there as though rooted to the spot.</p> + +<p>'I cannot go;' and here Cyril's lips became quite white +under his moustache.</p> + +<p>Some sudden intuition of the truth had come to him. Why +had he not thought of that before? It had never even occurred +to him. An hour ago he had met Mollie wandering about the +town disconsolately. Miss Ross was at the Cottage, she had +said; it was only a call, and she had taken the message herself; +and then her mother had given her some errands to do, and had +charged her strictly not to return for at least an hour.</p> + +<p>'Mamma never likes me to be at home when Miss Ross<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">{212}</a></span> +comes,' Mollie had observed in an aggrieved tone. But Cyril +had taken no notice of the speech—he knew his mother's little +ways, and no suspicion of the truth had come to him. It was +only the sight of Audrey's emotion that quickened it into life +now.</p> + +<p>'You have seen my mother,' he exclaimed; and here his +face grew dark and stern. 'She has been talking to you—making +you unhappy. Miss Ross,' as she remained silent, +'you must answer me. This concerns me very closely. I have +a right to know if my mother has betrayed me!'</p> + +<p>His tone frightened Audrey.</p> + +<p>'You must not be vexed with her,' she said, rousing herself +to defend the absent. 'She is very unhappy, and of course it +troubled me.' Audrey spoke with her usual simplicity—what +was the use of trying to hide it any longer? Cyril's impetuous +pertinacity gave her no chance of escape.</p> + +<p>'And she told you that I was going away?'</p> + +<p>Audrey bowed her head.</p> + +<p>'It was very wrong,' he returned, still sternly. 'Whom is a +man to trust, if he cannot trust his own mother? She has +betrayed my confidence. It was cruel to me, but it was far +more cruel to you—it is that I cannot forgive.'</p> + +<p>'No, no! You must not say that—she did not mean to be +cruel, Mr. Blake. Of course I ought not to have known this, +and of course it has made me very unhappy. But now I must +ask you something. Will you not wait a little? Things may +be better—easier——' And here she looked at him timidly, +and her expression was very sweet.</p> + +<p>But Cyril was not looking at her; he was having a hard +fight with himself. He was angry—justly angry, as he thought; +nay, more, he was humiliated that his mother should have +appealed to this girl—that, knowing her kind heart, she should +have inflicted this pain on her. The sight of her grief, her +gentleness, almost maddened him, and he averted his eyes as +he answered her.</p> + +<p>'They cannot be easier. But do not mistake my meaning—perhaps +my mother has misled you—let me put it right. No +pain or difficulty is driving me away; do not think that for a +moment. However hard it might be to go on living here, I +think I could have endured it, if it were only right to do so. +But I have made up my mind that it is not right, and to-morrow +morning I shall speak to Dr. Ross.'</p> + +<p>'Oh no, no!' and here Audrey clasped her hands involuntarily.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">{213}</a></span> +But Cyril's eyes were fixed on some carrier-pigeons +fluttering across the courtyard.</p> + +<p>'It is my duty to do it, and it must be done. If Dr. Ross +questions me, I shall tell him the truth: "I must go away +because I have dared to love your daughter; and if I stayed +here I should never cease from my efforts to win her." That +is what I should tell him, Miss Ross. I think he will not +press me to remain under these circumstances.' And Cyril +gave a bitter little laugh.</p> + +<p>'Perhaps not;' and here Audrey sank down upon her chair, +for she felt weak and giddy.</p> + +<p>'I am glad, at least, that you think I am doing right.'</p> + +<p>'I did not say so.'</p> + +<p>'Pardon me;' and here Cyril did try to get a glimpse of +her face, for something in her tone baffled him. 'You, who +know all, must of course approve my conduct. If I stayed +here I could not answer for myself; it is better—safer—that I +should go; though wherever I am,' here his voice trembled +with exquisite tenderness, 'I must always love you.'</p> + +<p>'Then in that case you had better remain.'</p> + +<p>Audrey tried to shield her face as she spoke, but he had seen +a little tremulous smile flit over her features, and she could not +hide her dimple. What could she mean? Was he fooling +himself—dreaming? The next moment he had dropped on one +knee beside her, and was begging her, with tears in his eyes, to +look at him.</p> + +<p>'This is a matter of life and death to me,' he implored, +compelling her by the very strength of his will to turn her +blushing face to him. 'Miss Ross—Audrey'—his tone almost +amounting to awe—'you cannot mean that you really care for +me?'</p> + +<p>'I am afraid I do care too much to let you go,' she half +whispered. But as he grasped her hands, and looked at her +almost incredulously: 'Why is it so impossible? I think in a +way I have long cared.'</p> + +<p>But even then he did not seem satisfied.</p> + +<p>'It is not pity—you are sure of that? It is nothing that +my mother has said? Audrey, if I thought that, I would +rather die than take advantage of you. Tell me, dear'—and +the pleading of his eyes was almost more than she could bear—'you +would not so humiliate me?'</p> + +<p>'No, Cyril, I would not.'</p> + +<p>His name came so naturally to her, she hardly knew she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">{214}</a></span> +said it; but a gleam of joy passed over the young man's face +as he heard it, and the next moment he drew her towards him.</p> + +<p>Audrey took it all quite simply; she listened to her young +lover's passionate protestation of gratitude, half shyly, half +happily. The reverence with which he treated her touched +her profoundly; he did not overpower her with the force of +his affection. After the first few moments of agitated feeling +he had quieted himself and her.</p> + +<p>'I must not try you too much,' he said. 'If I were to talk +for an hour I could never make you understand how happy I +am. It is a new existence; it is wonderful. Yesterday I was +so tired of my life, and to-day—to-day, Audrey——'</p> + +<p>'I am happy, too,' she said, in a soft, contented voice. 'All +these weeks have been so miserable; I seemed to miss you so—but +you would have nothing to say to me. Do you remember +that evening when you took my queen? Oh, how unhappy I was +that night! And you saw it, and went away.'</p> + +<p>'I did not go far,' he returned, taking possession of one +hand—the soft white hand that lay so quietly in his. 'It was +the only thing I could do for you—to keep out of your sight as +much as possible. I walked up and down the road like a +sentinel for hours; it did not seem possible to go home and +sleep. I felt as though I never wanted to sleep again. I could +only think of you in your white gown as you sat opposite to me, +and how your hand trembled, and how cold it felt when I said +good-night. I thought it was all your goodness, and because +you were sorry for me. Were you beginning to care for me +a little even then, my darling?'</p> + +<p>'I do not know,' she answered gently. 'You must not +question me too closely. I hardly understand myself how it +has all come about.'</p> + +<p>'No,' he returned, looking at her with a sort of worship in +his eyes—the worship with which a good, true woman will +sometimes inspire a man, and which makes their love a higher +education; 'it is all a miracle. I am not worthy of you; but +you shall see—you shall see how dearly I shall prize this +precious gift.'</p> + +<p>And then for a moment they were both silent.</p> + +<p>'You will not now forbid me to speak to your father?' he +said presently; and a shade of anxiety crept into his voice in +spite of his intense happiness.</p> + +<p>The thought of that interview somewhat daunted him. It +was surely a daring thing for a junior classical master to tell<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">{215}</a></span> +his chief that he had won his daughter's affections; it was an +ordeal that most men would have dreaded.</p> + +<p>Audrey seemed to read his thoughts.</p> + +<p>'I hope I shall never hinder you from doing your duty,' she +said quietly, 'and, of course, you will have to speak to him; +but'—looking at him with one of her radiant smiles—'you will +find him quite prepared.'</p> + +<p>'Do you mean that you will speak to him first? Oh no; +it is surely my prerogative to spare you this.'</p> + +<p>'But I do not wish to be spared,' she returned happily. +'Cyril, I do not think you have any idea of what my father is +to me, and I to him. Do you suppose I should sleep until I +have told him? There has never been any secret between us. +Even when I was a little child, I would take him all my broken +toys to mend, and if I fell down or cut my finger—and I was +always in mischief—it was always father who must bind it up, +and kiss and comfort me; and, with all his hard work, he was +never too busy to attend to me.'</p> + +<p>'I think in your place I would have gone to your mother. +You must not be jealous, darling, if I tell you that I fell in +love with her first.'</p> + +<p>'I am so glad. Dear mother! everyone loves her. But +when Gage and I were children, I was always the one most +with father. I think there is no one in the world like him, and +Michael says the same. I must write and tell Michael about +this.'</p> + +<p>'Oh yes; he is like your brother. I remember you told me +so. But, dearest, I must confess I am a little anxious about +Dr. Ross. I am only a poor man, you know; he may refuse +his consent.'</p> + +<p>Audrey shook her head.</p> + +<p>'Father is not like that,' she said tranquilly. 'We think +the same on these matters; we are both of us very impulsive. +I have some money of my own, you know—not much'—as +Cyril's brow contracted a little—'but enough to be a real help. +But do not let us talk about that; I have never cared for such +things. If you had not a penny in the world you would be +still yourself—Cyril Blake.'</p> + +<p>Audrey looked so charming as she said this, that the cloud +on Cyril's brow cleared like magic.</p> + +<p>'And you do not think your father will be angry?'</p> + +<p>'Angry! Why should he be angry?' opening her eyes +widely. 'He may be disappointed—very probably he will be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">{216}</a></span> +so; he may think I might have done better for myself. He +may even argue the point a little. The great blessing is that +one is not obliged to consult one's sister in such cases; for'—looking +at him with her old fun—'I am afraid Gage would +refuse her consent.'</p> + +<p>'Yes; I am afraid both Mr. and Mrs. Harcourt will send +me to Coventry.'</p> + +<p>'To be sure they will; but I suppose even Coventry will be +bearable under some circumstances. Oh dear!' interrupting +herself, 'do you see how dark it is growing? We have +actually forgotten the time. I must really be going.'</p> + +<p>'I ought not to have kept you so long,' he returned +remorsefully. 'There, you shall go! I will not detain you +another moment. I think it will be better for you to go alone. +I will stay here another half-hour; I could not speak to anyone +just now. I must be alone and think over this wonderful +thing that has happened.'</p> + +<p>'Very well,' she replied. But some minutes elapsed before +the last good-bye was said. There were things he had forgotten +to say. More than once, as she turned away, he +detained her with some parting request. When she had really +gone, and the last sound of her footsteps died away, he went +back into the dusky room, and threw himself down on the +chair where she had sat, and abandoned himself to a delicious +retrospect.</p> + +<p>'And it is true—it is not a dream!' he said to himself +when, an hour later, he roused himself to go back to the Gray +Cottage. 'Oh, thank God that He has given me this priceless +gift! If I could only be worthy of her!' finished the young +man with tender reverence, as he crossed the courtyard and let +himself in at the green door.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ross looked at her daughter rather anxiously that +evening; she thought Audrey was rather quiet and a trifle +subdued. Geraldine and her husband were dining at Woodcote. +Audrey, who had forgotten they were expected, was +rather taken aback when she saw her sister, and made her +excuses a little hurriedly. She had been detained—all sorts +of things had detained her. She had been to the Gray +Cottage and the library. She had not walked far enough to +tire herself—this being the literal fact, as not a quarter +of a mile lay between Woodcote and the Cottage. Oh no, +she was not the least tired, and she hoped Geraldine felt +better.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">{217}</a></span></p> + +<p>'Much better, thank you,' returned Geraldine, with one of +her keen glances; and then she somewhat elaborately changed +the subject. Audrey was not subjected to any cross-examination; +indeed, there was something significant in Mrs. +Harcourt's entire dearth of curiosity; but all the time she was +saying to herself: 'Audrey has been crying; her eyes are quite +swollen, and yet she looks cheerful. What can it mean? +What has she been doing? She has hardly had time to smooth +her hair, it looks so rough. I wonder if Percival notices +anything! I am sure father does, for he keeps looking at her,' +and so on.</p> + +<p>It was Mr. Harcourt who was Audrey's <i>bête noir</i> that +evening. He was in one of his argumentative moods, and +could not be made to understand that his sister-in-law would +have preferred silence. He was perpetually urging her to +single combat, touching her up on some supposed tender point +in the hope of getting a rally. 'I suppose Audrey, who goes +in for women's rights so warmly, will differ from me if I say so +and so?' or 'We must ask Audrey what she thinks of that, my +dear; she is a great stickler for feminine prerogative;' and +then he would point his chin, and a sort of sarcastic light would +come into his eyes. It was positive enjoyment to him when +Audrey rose to the bait and floundered hopelessly into an +argument. But, on the whole, she acquitted herself ill. 'You +are too clever for me to-night, Percival,' she said a little +wearily, as he stood talking to her with his coffee cup in his +hand; 'I cannot think what makes men so fond of debating +and argument. If they can only persuade a person that black +is white, they go home and sleep quite happily.'</p> + +<p>'It is such a triumph to make people see with one's own +eyes,' he returned, as though accepting a compliment. 'Have +you ever read the <i>Republic</i> of Plato? No! I should recommend +it for your perusal: it is an acknowledged masterpiece; +the reasoning is superb, and it is rich in illustrations. +The want of women is that, with all their intelligence, they +are so illogical. Now, if women only had the education of +men——'</p> + +<p>'Harcourt, I think Geraldine is tired, and would like you +to take her home,' observed Dr. Ross, interrupting the stream +of eloquence; and Mr. Harcourt, without finishing his sentence, +went at once in search of his wife. Women might be illogical, +but they were to be considered, for all that. With all his +satire and love of argument, Mr. Harcourt valued his wife's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">{218}</a></span> +comfort before his own. 'I am quite ready, dear,' he said, as +she looked up at him with a deprecating smile; 'and I know +your mother will excuse us.'</p> + +<p>Dr. Ross had walked with his daughter to the gate. +Young Mrs. Harcourt was a woman who always exacted these +little attentions from the menkind around her; without +demanding them, she took them naturally as her right and +prerogative. It would have seemed strange to her if her +father had not offered her his arm. 'Good-bye, father dear,' +she said, giving him her firm cool cheek to kiss; 'Percy and I +have had such a nice evening.'</p> + +<p>Dr. Ross walked back to the house; then he went to his +study and lighted his reading-lamp. There was a certain +interesting debate in the <i>Times</i> which he wished much to read—a +Ministerial crisis was at hand, and Dr. Ross, who was +Conservative to the backbone, was aware that his party was +menaced. He had just taken the paper in his hand when +Audrey came into the room. 'Good-night, my dear,' he said, +without looking up; but Audrey did not take the hint.</p> + +<p>'Daddy, I want to speak to you,' she said very quietly; +'will you please put that paper down for a moment?' And +then she added, 'I want to speak to you very particularly.'</p> + +<p>Dr. Ross heaved a sigh and lowered his paper somewhat +reluctantly. 'Would not another time have done as well?' he +grumbled good-humouredly; 'Harcourt has taken up all the +evening. That is the worst of having an elderly son-in-law; +one is bound to be civil to him; one could not tell him to hold +his tongue, for example.'</p> + +<p>'I think Percival would resent such a hint,' returned +Audrey rather absently. She had drawn a low chair close to +her father's knee, so that she could touch him, and now she +looked up in his face a little pleadingly.</p> + +<p>'Well, what is it, child?' he went on, still fingering his +paper; 'I suppose you want help for some <i>protégée</i> or other—moderation +in all things. I warn you that I have not got +Fortunatus's purse.'</p> + +<p>'It is not money I want,' she returned, so gravely that he +began to feel uncomfortable. 'Daddy, it is something very, +very different. This afternoon Cyril Blake spoke to me, and I—that +is, we—are engaged.'</p> + +<p>Dr. Ross gave a great start and dropped the <i>Times</i> as +though it burnt him. For a moment he did not speak. +With all his mildness and benevolence, he was a man of strong<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">{219}</a></span> +passions, though no one would have guessed it from his habitual +self-control.</p> + +<p>'We are engaged,' she repeated softly, and then she stroked +her father's hand; but he drew it rather quickly away.</p> + +<p>'Audrey,' he said, in a voice that she did not recognise, it +was so stern, so full of displeasure; 'I would rather have +heard anything than this, that a child of mine should so far +forget herself as to engage herself to any man without her +parents' consent.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, daddy——' she began caressingly, but he stopped +her.</p> + +<p>'It was wrong; it was what I would not have believed of +you, Audrey; but with regard to Mr. Blake, it was altogether +dishonourable. How dared he,' here the Doctor's eyes flashed +through his spectacles, 'how dared he win my daughter's +affections in this clandestine way?'</p> + +<p>'Father, you must not speak so of Cyril!' returned Audrey +calmly, though she was a little pale—a little disturbed at this +unexpected severity; 'it is not what you think: there was +nothing clandestine or dishonourable. He did not mean to +speak to me; it was more my fault than his. You shall hear +all, every word from the beginning. Do you think I would +hide anything from my father?' And here two large tears +welled slowly from Audrey's eyes, but she wiped them away. +Perhaps her gentleness and the sight of those tears mollified +Dr. Ross, for when Audrey laid her clasped hands upon his +knee he did not again repulse her. Nay, more, when she +faltered once in telling her story, he put his hand on her head +reassuringly.</p> + +<p>'Is that all you have to tell me, my dear?' and now Dr. +Ross spoke in his old kind voice.</p> + +<p>'Yes, father dear; you have heard everything now, and—and—' +beseechingly, 'you will not be hard on us!'</p> + +<p>'Hard on him, I suppose you mean,' returned Dr. Ross, +with rather a sad smile; 'a man is not likely to be hard to +his own flesh and blood. I still think he has acted rather +badly, but I can make allowance for him better now—he was +sorely tempted. But now I want you to tell me something: +are you sure that your happiness is involved in this—that it +would really cost you too much to give him up?'</p> + +<p>Audrey looked at her father with some astonishment—that +wide, clear-eyed glance conveyed reproach.</p> + +<p>'Do you think it necessary to ask me such a question?' she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">{220}</a></span> +said, with a little dignity; 'should I have engaged myself to +any man without loving him?'</p> + +<p>'But he may have talked you into it; you may have +mistaken your feelings,' suggested Dr. Ross; but Audrey shook +her head.</p> + +<p>'I am not a child,' she said, rather proudly. 'Father, +you have always liked Mr. Blake. You can surely have no +objection to him personally?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, but my liking did not go to the extent of wishing him +to be my son-in-law,' he replied, with a touch of grim humour; +'in my opinion, Audrey, Mr. Blake is far too young.'</p> + +<p>'He is three-and-twenty,' she pleaded; 'he is two months +older than I am. What does age matter, father? He will +grow older every day. I know some men are boyish at that +age; but I think Cyril's life has matured him.'</p> + +<p>'Still, I would rather have entrusted you to an older man, +and one who had in some measure made his position. Mr. +Blake is only at the beginning of his career; it will be years +before he achieves any sort of position. Audrey, you know me +well enough by this time: I am not speaking of his poverty, +though that alone should have deterred him from aspiring to +my daughter. We think alike on these points, and I care +nothing about a rich son-in-law; but Mr. Blake has only his +talents and good character to recommend him. He is far too +young; he is poor, and his family has no social standing.'</p> + +<p>'But, father, surely a good character is everything. How +often I have heard you say what a high opinion his Dean had +of him, and what an excellent character he had borne at school +and college; and then think what a son and a brother he is—how +unselfish, how hard-working! How could any girl be +afraid of entrusting her future to him?'</p> + +<p>Dr. Ross sighed. Audrey's mind was evidently made up. +Why had he brought this misfortune on them all by engaging +this fascinating young master—for he certainly looked upon it +as a misfortune. After all, was it any wonder that Cyril Blake, +with his perfect face and lovable disposition, had found his +way to his daughter's heart? 'Why could he not have fallen +in love with someone else?' he groaned to himself; for Audrey +was the very apple of his eye, and there was no one he thought +good enough for her, unless it were Michael. Not that such +an idea ever really occurred to him. Michael's ill-health put +such a thing out of the question; but Michael was his adopted +son, and far above the average of men, in his opinion.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">{221}</a></span></p> + +<p>'Father, you will remember that my happiness is involved +in this,' Audrey said, after a little more talk had passed +between them. 'You will be good to Cyril when he speaks to +you to-morrow.'</p> + +<p>'Oh yes; I will be good to him.'</p> + +<p>And then Audrey laid her hot cheek against him, and +thanked him as she bid him good-night; but when she had +gone there were no debates read that night—Dr. Ross had too +many thoughts to occupy him as he sat alone in his empty +study.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">{222}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> + +<h3>'I FELT SUCH A CULPRIT, YOU SEE'</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>'Still, it seems to me that love—true and profound love—should be a +source of light and calm, a religion and a revelation, in which there is no +place left for the lower victories of vanity.'—<span class="smcap">Amiel.</span></p></div> + + +<p>It cannot be denied that Cyril Blake had rather a hard time of +it in the Doctor's study. Dr. Ross received him kindly; but +his kindness was a trifle iced as he shook hands with the +young man, and then seated himself in his big easy-chair. +He groaned inwardly: 'I am an old fool,' he thought, +'ever to have brought him here. How confoundedly handsome +the fellow is! if one could only honestly dislike him!' +and then he assumed a judicial aspect as he listened to the +culprit.</p> + +<p>On the whole, Cyril acquitted himself fairly; he was very +pale, and hesitated a little over his words; but he stated his +case with sufficient eloquence. His love for Audrey bore him +triumphantly even through this ordeal.</p> + +<p>'You have reason to be angry with me,' he said with +ingenuous frankness. 'I had no right to speak to Miss Ross +until I had gained your permission to do so.'</p> + +<p>'It was certainly a grievous mistake, Mr. Blake.'</p> + +<p>'You are very kind not to call it by another name; I will +own frankly it was a mistake. I must beg you to make +allowances for a very strong temptation. Under some circumstances +a man is not always master of himself.'</p> + +<p>Dr. Ross half smiled. After all, this braw wooer was +bearing himself with manly dignity.</p> + +<p>'I hope you will believe me,' continued Cyril earnestly, +'when I say that I acted with no preconceived intention. My +first declaration was perfectly hopeless. I expected nothing, +asked for nothing; on the second occasion'—here he paused,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">{223}</a></span> +and, in spite of his nervousness, a light came in his eyes—'circumstances +forced me to speak.'</p> + +<p>'Circumstances can be controlled, Mr. Blake. If you had +come to me, for example——'</p> + +<p>'It had been my intention to come to you, Dr. Ross, and to +tender my resignation. I had made up my mind that it was +my duty to leave this place. I had even spoken to my mother +on the subject. "I love your daughter, and therefore it will +not be right for me to stay." These were the very words I +should have spoken to you, only—she—she—asked me not to +go;' and here the young man's voice trembled.</p> + +<p>Dr. Ross's magisterial aspect relaxed a little; his good +heart, yearning only for his child's happiness, began to relent.</p> + +<p>'I am quite sure of your affection for Audrey, Mr. Blake.'</p> + +<p>'You may be sure of it. There is no proof you could ask +that would be refused by me. If I thought—that is, if you +and she thought that this would not be for her happiness, I +should be ready, even now, to go away.'</p> + +<p>'Thank you! I can quite believe that you mean what you +say; but I shall not put you to so severe a proof. My child +told me last night that her mind was made up—indeed, I +understand that you and she are already engaged.'</p> + +<p>'Only with your permission, sir.'</p> + +<p>'I do not see how I am to withhold it when the girl tells +me that her happiness is involved. I will speak to you plainly, +Mr. Blake. You are certainly not in the position in which I +should wish to see my future son-in-law. A man of your age, +at the very beginning of his career, has no right to think of +marrying.'</p> + +<p>Cyril flushed.</p> + +<p>'I do not think of it. I must work my way before such a +thing would be possible.'</p> + +<p>'You mean because you are poor. Poverty is, of course, a +serious obstacle; but just then I was thinking more of position. +I should hardly be willing for my daughter to marry a junior +classical master. Her sister is in a far better position.'</p> + +<p>'I shall hope not always to be a junior master, Dr. Ross.'</p> + +<p>'True; and, of course, interest can do a great deal. I must +speak to Charrington, and see what is to be done in the future. +Perhaps you know that Audrey has a little money of her +own?'</p> + +<p>'I am sorry to hear it.'</p> + +<p>'Their grandfather left them each five thousand pounds—as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">{224}</a></span> +Audrey is of age, she is, of course, her own mistress. It was +my intention to give her a couple of thousands on her marriage—Geraldine +had it—anything else will only come to them on +my death.'</p> + +<p>'I wish you had not told me all this.'</p> + +<p>Dr. Ross smiled.</p> + +<p>'You are young, Blake,' he said, in his old friendly manner, +'or you would not be so romantic as to wish Audrey were +penniless. You will find a few thousands very serviceable by +and by, when, in the course of time, a house falls vacant. I +am speaking of the future, mind—for I do not mean you to +have Audrey for at least a couple of years; we are in no hurry +to lose her, and you must make your way a little first. Now +I think we have talked enough for the present. I will just +have a word with Audrey, and send her to you.' Then he held +out his hand, and Cyril grasped it with a word or two of +gratitude.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Audrey, seated close to her mother on the +drawing-room couch, was pouring out the whole story. She +told it very comfortably, with her face resting against her +mother's shoulder, and only interrupted by a tearful inquiry at +intervals.</p> + +<p>'Oh, Audrey! Oh, my darling child!' exclaimed Mrs. Ross, +in a sighing sort of voice, when the girl had finished her recital.</p> + +<p>'Are you sorry, mother? Why do you speak in that tone? +You know you have always liked Cyril.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, my dear,' but here Mrs. Ross sighed again; 'how +can one help liking him, when he is so lovable? But, Audrey, +what will your sister say—and Percival?'</p> + +<p>'Poor dear mother! So that was the reason of that +dolorous voice? Well, do you know,' with an engaging air of +frankness, 'I am afraid we shall have a bad time with Gage; +she will want me put in a strait-waistcoat and fed on a cooling +diet of bread and water. Father will have to assure her that +there is no insanity in the family; and as to Percival—oh, +Percival's face, when he hears the news, will be a joke!'</p> + +<p>'I must say I don't see the joke, Audrey. I am really +afraid they will both be dreadfully shocked. You must tell +them yourself. I would not take the news to Hillside for the +world—and just now, too, when dear Geraldine ought to be +spared all agitation.'</p> + +<p>Audrey did not dare laugh; her mother was far too much in +earnest.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">{225}</a></span></p> + +<p>'You must go yourself, Audrey,' she repeated; 'and I hope +you will be very, very careful.'</p> + +<p>'Don't you think it would be better to write, mother? I am +so sure that Gage will disapprove and say cutting things—and +of course it will not be pleasant. If I were to write her a +sisterly little note, just telling her the news, and saying I +would go to her to-morrow?'</p> + +<p>And, after a good deal of consideration, Mrs. Ross was +brought to own that this plan would be the best.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ross was so oppressed by the fear of Geraldine's +disapproval that she could hardly give her attention to Audrey; +and yet her motherly heart was stirred to its foundations. +Audrey pretended to be hurt at last.</p> + +<p>'Oh, do not let us talk any more about Gage!' she said +impatiently; 'we must give her time to come round. I want +you to think about me and Cyril. "Cyril"—is it not a nice +name? And you must be very fond of him, and treat him +like your own son. He is to be a second Michael.'</p> + +<p>'Dear me, Audrey! I wonder what Michael will say; he +can never have guessed anything before he went away.'</p> + +<p>'I don't know, mother. Michael is very sharp, you know. +It struck me once or twice that he was watching Cyril; but +he liked him—he always liked him;' and here Audrey's voice +was full of gladness. Michael's approval was necessary to her +happiness: whoever else might choose to cavil at her choice, +it must not be Michael—dear old Michael!</p> + +<p>'I wish he would come back,' she said softly; for she felt a +strange sort of longing to see his kind face again. She must +write to him; she must tell him everything, just as though he +were her brother. 'Mother,' interrupting herself, 'I want to +tell you something very pretty that Cyril said yesterday. I +was talking of you and father, and he said I must not be hurt, +but he had fallen in love with you first. He thinks you the +sweetest woman he has ever seen.'</p> + +<p>'Dear fellow!' murmured Mrs. Ross; for the little compliment +pleased her.</p> + +<p>With all her loyalty to Geraldine's husband, there were times +when he was a little formidable to her. Perhaps, in her secret +heart, she felt herself too young to be the mother-in-law of a man +of forty; and, in spite of Mr. Harcourt's real liking and respect +for his wife's mother, he had never been guided by her. It +had not been with him, as with younger men, to say, 'Your +mother thinks so-and-so should be done.' Indeed, if the truth<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">{226}</a></span> +be told, Geraldine very rarely quoted her mother's opinions—she +was so certain that Percival would contradict them.</p> + +<p>'We are surely able to make up our own minds without +consulting your parents, my dear,' he would say, in rather a +crushing tone; for prosperity had fed his self-confidence, and +it needed the discipline of trouble to teach him humility.</p> + +<p>At that moment Dr. Ross entered the room, and at the first +sight of his face Audrey sprang up, and he opened his arms to +receive her.</p> + +<p>'Oh, daddy, is it all right?'</p> + +<p>'Well, it is as far right as it can be,' he replied, in rather +an inexplicable voice. 'Emmie, my dear, this girl of ours has +taken the bit between her teeth. Geraldine never gave us this +trouble. She fell in love with the right man at the right time, +and everything was arranged properly.'</p> + +<p>'And now the right man has fallen in love with me,' +whispered Audrey in her father's ear.</p> + +<p>'But you have given your consent, John?' returned his wife, +in a pleading tone. In spite of her fears about Geraldine, her +sympathies were by this time enlisted on the side of the lovers. +'Of course, Mr. Blake is a poor man; but I daresay Dr. +Charrington will push him when he knows how things are; and +he is so nice and pleasant and clever, and dear Audrey really +loves him.'</p> + +<p>'Are you sure of that?' trying to catch a glimpse of his +daughter's face. 'Girls make mistakes sometimes.' And then, +as a faint protest reached him: 'Well, you will find the fellow +in my study, if you want to talk to him. Perhaps you had +better bring him in to see your mother.'</p> + +<p>And Audrey withdrew, blushing like a rose.</p> + +<p>'She is very fond of him, John,' observed Mrs. Ross, with a +trace of anxiety in her tone, as though her husband's manner +did not quite satisfy her. 'She has been talking to me for the +last hour. Audrey never cared for anyone before. You +remember young Silverdale and Fred Langton—they were both +in love with her, and would have spoken if she had given them +the chance; but she was as distant as possible.'</p> + +<p>'Yes; and Fred Langton has fifteen hundred a year, and +his father is a Member of Parliament. He is a nice fellow, too—only +a little too stout for so young a man; but he is not the +sort Audrey would fancy. Blake is a good fellow, and I liked +him from the first,' continued the Doctor, in a musing tone; +'but I never should have picked him out for Audrey.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">{227}</a></span></p> + +<p>'Perhaps you think him too young?' hazarded his wife.</p> + +<p>'Yes; I should have liked her to have married an older +man. They are too much of an age, and Audrey, with all her +good-nature, has a will of her own. Blake is by no means a +weak man; on the contrary, I should say he is strong; but he +will have to give in to her.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, I hope not!' for Mrs. Ross held the old-fashioned +doctrines of wifely submission and obedience.</p> + +<p>'They will not find it out for a little; but, if I am not +mistaken, Blake will discover in time that he is somewhat +handicapped. The girl has too much on her side: there is +her position, her little bit of money, and her equality as regards +age. Blake will have to steer his way prudently, or he will +find himself among shoals.'</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ross looked distressed; her husband's opinion was +infallible to her. It never occurred to her that he might be +occasionally wrong in his premises.</p> + +<p>'Percival and Geraldine will be dreadfully shocked,' she +replied. 'I quite dread the effect on Geraldine.'</p> + +<p>Then Dr. Ross's mood changed.</p> + +<p>'It is no business of hers, or of Harcourt's either,' he said, +rather sharply. 'If Audrey has her parents' consent, she +need not trouble herself about other people's opinions.'</p> + +<p>Then Mrs. Ross knew that, whatever stormy discussion +might be in store for her, she must not expect her husband to +come to her assistance. He had more than once hinted that +his son-in-law took rather too much upon himself, and on +one occasion he had gone so far as to say that it was a pity +Geraldine had married a man so much older than herself.</p> + +<p>'Harcourt is a clever fellow, but he plays the autocrat +rather too much. A man has a right to be master in his own +house, but Woodcote is not Hillside.' And this speech had +alarmed Mrs. Ross dreadfully.</p> + +<p>'I wish your father cared for Percival as much as he does +for Michael,' she said once a little plaintively to Audrey. +'Nothing Michael says or does is ever wrong in his eyes.'</p> + +<p>'But there could not be two Michaels, mother,' returned +Audrey; 'and really, Percival does lay down the law far +too much. I don't wonder father was a little put out, for of +course he is the older man.'</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, the lovers were enjoying themselves after their +own fashion. When Audrey entered the study, Cyril was +standing in the bay-window with his back towards the door;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">{228}</a></span> +but at the sound of her footstep he turned round quickly and +crossed the room. As he took her hands he looked at her for +a moment without speaking, and she saw at once that he was +deeply moved. Then he put his arm round her very gently +and kissed her. Somehow that silent caress touched Audrey, +it was so much more eloquent than words; and when he did +speak, his speech was very grateful to her ears.</p> + +<p>'Your father has been so good to me.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, I know. I told you yesterday how good he would be.'</p> + +<p>'Ah, but I had a rather bad time of it at first,' he replied, +shaking his head. 'Do you see that chair?' pointing to the +high-backed oaken chair that always occupied the corner by +the writing-table. 'Dr. Ross sat there, and I stood leaning +against the mantelpiece, just opposite to him.'</p> + +<p>'Do you mean that father did not ask you to sit down?'</p> + +<p>'Oh no; he more than once pressed me to take a seat; but +I felt it would be unbecoming for a culprit not to stand before +his judge. I felt such a culprit, you see. When a man steals +another man's dearest possession without asking his leave, he +must regard himself as a sort of traitor.'</p> + +<p>Audrey smiled; but as Cyril drew her gently down beside +him on the wide cushioned window-seat, she made a faint +protest.</p> + +<p>'I think mother will be looking for us,' she said a little +shyly.</p> + +<p>'But not just now,' he pleaded. 'You will stay with me +for a few minutes, will you not, darling? I could not talk to +you before your mother, and I want to tell you what Dr. Ross +said. In spite of my presumption, he has treated me most +generously; but, Audrey,' half whispering her name, as though +it thrilled him to say it, 'he says that he will not spare you to +me for at least two years.'</p> + +<p>'Oh no, of course not; I could not leave father and mother +for a long, long time,' returned Audrey, somewhat troubled by +this allusion to her marriage. It was one thing to be engaged +and to make Cyril happy, but to be married was a far more +serious consideration. 'If I had been asked, I should have +said at least three years,' she added quickly.</p> + +<p>For one instant the young lover felt himself wounded, +but his good sense enabled him to hide this from her.</p> + +<p>'You are right, dearest,' he said quietly. 'It would be +mere selfishness for me to wish to take you away from this +beautiful home until I have made one that shall in some degree<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">{229}</a></span> +be fitting for you. You will not expect a grand one; you +know you have linked your lot to a poor man.'</p> + +<p>'Of course I know it,' she replied calmly; 'you need not +trouble about that, Cyril. I think I am different from other +girls: I have never cared for wealth or luxury in the least. +Woodcote is my home, and I love every stone of it; but I +could be just as happy in a cottage.'</p> + +<p>'If it were like the Gray Cottage, for example?'</p> + +<p>'Oh, I have always been fond of the Gray Cottage!' she +returned, smiling at him; and the look of those sweet gray +eyes made the young man's pulses beat faster. 'I should be +perfectly satisfied with a home like that. Why,' as he interrupted +her with a rapturous expression of gratitude, 'did you +think I should be hard to please? I am not a fine lady, like +Geraldine!'</p> + +<p>'You are the finest lady in the world to me!' was Cyril's +answer. It took all his self-control to sit there, just holding +her hand and listening to her. He felt as though in his joy +he could have been guilty of any extravagance—as though he +ought to be kneeling before her, his lady of delight, pouring +out his very soul in a tumultuous, incoherent stream of words. +But it spoke well for his knowledge of Audrey's character that +he restrained himself so utterly: any such passionate love-making +would have disturbed her serenity and destroyed her +ease in his society; her inborn love of freedom, and a certain +coyness that was natural to her, would have revolted against +such wooing. Cyril had his reward for his unselfish forbearance +when he saw how quietly she rested against his arm, how +willingly she left her hand in his, as she talked to him in her +frank, guileless way.</p> + +<p>'I suppose your mother is pleased about this?' she said +presently.</p> + +<p>'You would have said so if you had heard us talking last +night, until one o'clock in the morning! You have made +more than one person happy, dear; my mother will be your +debtor for life.'</p> + +<p>'I wonder she is not a little jealous of me,' returned Audrey. +'She has had you so long to herself, I should think she would +find me a little in her way.'</p> + +<p>'Oh no! she is too grateful to you for making me happy. +My darling, it would cause me utter misery if you and my +mother did not get on. I have been her one thought all these +years; it is not right, of course,' as Audrey's eyes expressed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">{230}</a></span> +disapproval at this. 'I have had more than my fair share; +but I am only stating facts from her point of view. If you +had refused me—if we had gone away—she would have broken +her heart; as it is, she is ready to worship you for your goodness +to me.'</p> + +<p>'You must take me to her by and by,' returned Audrey +gently; 'but now, Cyril, indeed we must go to my mother;' +and this time he made no objection.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ross welcomed him very nicely.</p> + +<p>'Audrey tells me that I am to have another son,' she said +softly, as she held out her hand to him.</p> + +<p>'If you will only let me be one,' he returned gratefully, as +he carried the soft motherly hand to his lips.</p> + +<p>Audrey might be forgiven if she regarded Cyril's behaviour +as perfect. As for Mrs. Ross, the tears started to her eyes at +that act of reverential homage. She told Audrey afterwards +that she felt as though she could have kissed him.</p> + +<p>'What a pity you did not! I think Cyril would have liked +it,' was Audrey's quiet answer.</p> + +<p>She heard her mother inviting him to dinner as she turned +to the tea-table, for the afternoon was nearly over. 'We shall +be just by ourselves, Mr. Blake.'</p> + +<p>'Will you call me Cyril now?' he asked in almost a whisper, +and a blush came to Mrs. Ross's comely face.</p> + +<p>'I will try and remember,' she said, in the kindest possible +voice; and then he joined Audrey at the tea-table, and made +himself very busy in waiting on them both, and they were soon +as easy and comfortable as possible.</p> + +<p>'Would you like my mother to come and see you to-morrow?' +he asked presently, when lamps had been brought in +and the October twilight had been excluded; 'that will be the +correct thing, will it not, Mrs. Ross?'</p> + +<p>'I suppose so,' she assented; but Audrey, with her usual +impulsiveness, interrupted her:</p> + +<p>'Why should you not take me across now?' she said; 'I +think it is so stupid thinking about etiquette. Your mother is +older than I, and it is for me to go to her.' Audrey spoke +with decision, and Cyril looked enchanted.</p> + +<p>'I did not like to propose it,' he said delightedly; 'will you +really come? May I take her, Mrs. Ross?'</p> + +<p>But Audrey did not wait for her mother's permission. She +left the room, and returned presently in her hat and jacket.</p> + +<p>'I am quite ready,' she said, speaking from the threshold;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">{231}</a></span> +but she smiled as she said the words. Was she interrupting +an interesting conversation? Cyril was on the couch beside +her mother, and he was talking eagerly. Perhaps, though +Audrey did not know it, he was making up for his previous +self-restraint by pouring out some of his pent-up feelings.</p> + +<p>'You understand?' he said as he stood up, and Mrs. Ross +beamed at him in answer.</p> + +<p>'Are you two having confidences already?' observed Audrey +happily, as she looked on at this little scene; and Cyril +laughed as he followed her into the hall.</p> + +<p>'She is the sweetest woman in the world but one,' he said, +as they went out together into the soft damp air; and Audrey, +perhaps in gratitude for these words, took his arm unasked as +she walked with him through the dark village street.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">{232}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV</h2> + +<h3>MR. HARCOURT SPEAKS HIS MIND</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>'It is idle to <i>talk</i> a young woman in love out of her passion. Love +does not lie in the ear.'—<span class="smcap">Horace Walpole.</span></p></div> + + +<p>Mrs. Blake was expecting them—had been expecting them +for hours; Audrey could see that in a moment. The October +evenings were chilly, and most people in Rutherford lighted a +fire at sundown; so a clear little fire burnt in the drawing-room +grate, and Mrs. Blake's favourite lamp with the pink +shade cast a rosy glow over the little tea-table. The cups +were ranged in due order, and some hot cakes were on the +brass trivet, but the little tea-maker was not at her usual post. +Only Mrs. Blake was standing alone in the middle of the room, +and as Cyril led Audrey to her she threw her arms round the +girl with almost hysterical violence. 'Oh, my dear, dear, +dearest girl!' she exclaimed, pressing her with convulsive +force; and Audrey felt a little embarrassed.</p> + +<p>'I thought you would be looking for us,' she said, releasing +herself gently; 'I asked Cyril to bring me—it seemed the +right thing.'</p> + +<p>'No, dear, it was not the right thing,' returned Mrs. Blake, +almost solemnly; 'it was for me to come to you. But all the +same, I knew Cyril would bring you; my boy would remember +his mother even in his happiness.'</p> + +<p>'It was not my thought,' began Cyril; but a very sweet +look from Audrey checked him.</p> + +<p>'What does it matter whose thought it was?' she said, in +her direct way; 'if I asked him to bring me, it was because I +knew it was what he wished, though he did not like to ask +me. Dear Mrs. Blake, was it likely that I should stay away +when we have always been such friends?'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">{233}</a></span></p> + +<p>For a moment Mrs. Blake seemed unable to answer. Some +curious emotion impeded her utterance. She turned very pale +and trembled visibly.</p> + +<p>'And we shall be better friends than ever now,' continued +Audrey, taking her hand, for she felt very tender towards the +beautiful woman who was Cyril's mother.</p> + +<p>'I trust so,' returned Mrs. Blake in a low voice; but there +was a melancholy gleam in her large dark eyes. Then, with +an effort to recover her usual manner: 'Audrey, I hope you +have forgiven me for troubling you so yesterday. You must +not expect me to say I am sorry, or that I repent a word +that I said then; but all the same, I was rather hard on you.'</p> + +<p>'You certainly made me very wretched.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, I felt I was very cruel; but one cannot measure one's +words at such a moment. I felt as though my children and I +were being driven out of our paradise.'</p> + +<p>'And you thought it was my fault?' but Audrey blushed a +little as she asked the question.</p> + +<p>'Oh, hush!' and Mrs. Blake glanced at her son with pretended +alarm; 'do you know that in spite of all I had done +for him, that ungrateful boy actually presumed to lecture me. +He would have it that I had been cruel to you, and that no +one but a woman would have taken such a mean advantage; +but all the time he looked so happy that I forgave him. +"All's well that ends well." That is what I told him.'</p> + +<p>Cyril shook his head. Even in his happiness he had been +unable to refrain from uttering his disapproval of his mother's +tactics. His nature was almost as simple and transparent as +Audrey's. It hurt him to remember how his mother had +appealed to this girl's sense of compassion.</p> + +<p>'Do not let us talk any more of it,' he said quickly. 'I +think Audrey has a great deal to forgive; but you and I, +mother, know her generosity.'</p> + +<p>And the look that accompanied these words left Audrey +silent for a moment.</p> + +<p>'Where is Mollie?' she exclaimed presently, when, after a +little more conversation, Mrs. Blake insisted that she must +have just one cup of tea. In vain Audrey protested that they +had had tea already at Woodcote, that in another hour or so +they would have to dine. Mrs. Blake could not be induced to +let them off.</p> + +<p>'Where is Mollie?' she continued; 'may I go and look for +her, Mrs. Blake?'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">{234}</a></span></p> + +<p>But before Mrs. Blake could answer, Audrey had exchanged +a glance with Cyril and disappeared.</p> + +<p>She found Mollie in the dining-room; she was pacing up +and down the room with a small black kitten in her arms, +but the moment Audrey appeared the kitten was discarded, +and flung upon four trembling, sprawling legs, and Mollie +sprang towards her, almost overwhelming her with her girlish +vehemence.</p> + +<p>'Oh, Miss Ross, my dear Miss Ross! is it really true? +Cyril said so this morning, but I could not believe him; I +must hear it from your own lips.'</p> + +<p>'Do you mean, is it true that I hope one day to become +your sister? Of course it is true, dear Mollie.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, I am so glad! I am more than glad; I have been +crying with joy half the day. But is he good enough for you, +Miss Ross?' gazing at her idol with intense anxiety. 'I am +very fond of Cyril—Kester and I think there is no one like +him—but it does not seem as though anyone were quite good +enough for you.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, Mollie, what nonsense! but I am not going to believe +you; and what do you mean by calling me Miss Ross, you +silly child? Don't I tell you we are going to be sisters?'</p> + +<p>Mollie, who had been rubbing her cheeks against her friend +in a fondling, kittenish sort of way, started back in a moment.</p> + +<p>'But I could not call you anything else,' she returned, becoming +crimson with shyness. 'You will always be Miss Ross +to me—my Miss Ross, you know; I could not think of you +as anyone else. It would be such a liberty to call you by +your Christian name.'</p> + +<p>'Well, never mind; it will come naturally by and by,' returned +Audrey tranquilly. 'I shall know you are fond of me, +whatever you choose to call me; so you and Kester can do as +you like.'</p> + +<p>'May I write and tell him?' pleaded Mollie. 'Oh, dear +Miss Ross, do let me!'</p> + +<p>But Audrey was not inclined to give permission; she +explained to Mollie that she meant to write herself to Captain +Burnett, and that she thought Cyril would send Kester a note.</p> + +<p>'Better leave it to him,' she suggested; 'you can write +to him afterwards;' and as usual Mollie was docile.</p> + +<p>They went upstairs after this, Mollie picking up the kitten +on the way. Cyril sprang to the door as he heard their footsteps.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">{235}</a></span></p> + +<p>'Have we been long?' Audrey asked, turning to him with +a smile.</p> + +<p>Cyril hardly knew what he answered. For a moment a +sense of giddiness came over him, as though he were suddenly +dazzled. 'Could it be really true?' he asked himself more +than once. Audrey did not seem to guess his feelings: she +was perfectly tranquil and at her ease; she had laid aside her +hat and jacket to please Mrs. Blake, and as she sat there +sipping her tea and talking softly to them all, she looked so +fair and girlish in her lover's sight, that the infatuated young +man could not remove his eyes from her.</p> + +<p>And yet Audrey was only in the old dark-red cashmere that +was Geraldine's pet aversion; but her brown hair had golden +gleams in it, and the gray eyes were very bright and soft, and +perhaps with that changing colour Audrey did look pretty; for +youth and love are great beautifiers even of homely features. +Audrey was sorry when Cyril reminded her that it was time +to go. She was loath to leave that little drawing-room, so +bright with lamplight and firelight. She went home and +dressed for dinner in her white gown, feeling as though she +were in some placid dream.</p> + +<p>The rest of the evening passed very tranquilly. Dr. Ross +asked for some music; he was not in the mood for conversation, +so Audrey sang to them all her favourite songs, while Cyril +stood beside her and turned over the leaves. Now and then +they could exchange a word or two.</p> + +<p>And just at the last she must needs sing 'Widow Miller,' +and as usual Dr. Ross softly beat time and crooned an accompaniment:</p> + +<table summary="poem"> +<tr><td> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse">'The sang o' the lark finds the widow asteer,</div> +<div class="verse">The birr o' her wheel starts the night's dreamy ear,</div> +<div class="verse">The tears o'er the tow-tap will whiles fa' like rain,</div> +<div class="verse">Yet there's naebody hears Widow Miller complain.'</div> +</div> +</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>'What a sad song, my darling! I should like to hear something +more cheerful,' whispered Cyril, as she finished.</p> + +<p>But she did not seem to hear him; she rose from her seat +and crossed the room to the corner where Dr. Ross was sitting.</p> + +<p>'That is your favourite song, daddy,' she said, leaning over +him.</p> + +<p>And as he smiled and nodded, she sat down on the low +chair beside him and looked thoughtfully into the fire.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">{236}</a></span></p> + +<p>She roused herself presently to bid Cyril good-bye, and to +linger a moment with him at the door in the starlight.</p> + +<p>'I shall not see you until luncheon to-morrow, unless you +pass the window,' he said, with the egotism common to lovers. +'You will think of me until then, will you not, dear?'</p> + +<p>'Of course I shall think of you,' returned Audrey, with her +usual gentleness.</p> + +<p>But she seemed to wonder a little at the sudden passion with +which Cyril clasped her to him.</p> + +<p>'Good-night, Cyril dear. I shall be very busy all the +morning writing letters; but we can have the walk you +propose after four.'</p> + +<p>And then she went back to her seat and leant her cheek +against her father's arm, as she looked into the fire again.</p> + +<p>'A penny for your thoughts, my child,' observed Dr. Ross, +when they had both been silent for a long time; 'though I +suppose I need not ask.'</p> + +<p>'I was thinking of Michael,' she returned guiltily. 'Dear +old Michael! how I wish he could be happy, too!' And then +she bade them both good-night and went up to her room, and, +strange to say, her last thought before she fell asleep was to +wonder what Michael would say.</p> + +<p>The boys marvelled more than once the following morning +at their master's evident abstraction. In spite of his efforts to +fix his attention on Greek verbs and exercises, Cyril's eyes +would turn perpetually to the window; but no slight girlish +figure in dark-red cashmere appeared on the terrace to gather +the yellow and white and violet chrysanthemums that bloomed +in the borders.</p> + +<p>Audrey was in her own private sanctum, and had given +orders that no one should disturb her. Even Mollie was to be +sent away. She had very important business on her hands. +There was her letter to Geraldine, and a very difficult one it +was to write—so difficult, that more than once Audrey thought +that she would put on her hat and go up to Hillside instead; +but she remembered that Gage was expecting visitors to +luncheon. They would probably come early, and drive away +before dusk; her letter must not be delivered before then. So +she addressed herself again to her task.</p> + +<p>After all, it was a very sweet, womanly letter, and might +have touched any sister's heart.</p> + +<p>'If you cannot conscientiously approve, you can at least +wish me joy in the life I have chosen for myself,' she wrote.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">{237}</a></span> +'I have accepted Mr. Blake of my own free will, because I +think he is worthy of my affection. You do not know him +yet; but he is so good—so good: sometimes I think even +Michael is not more to be trusted.' And so on.</p> + +<p>But, after all, it was far easier to write to Michael. Audrey +had no need to pick her words or arrange her ideas with him. +She could tell him everything as frankly as though he were her +brother. There need be no limit to her confidence; Michael +would never misunderstand her.</p> + +<p>'The one drawback is that you are still away,' she finished +affectionately. 'I shall not feel things are perfect until we +have had one of our long talks on "Michael's bench." When +are you coming home? It will soon be November, and the +trees will be stripped of their leaves. Why do you trouble +yourself about another man's business? No one wants you +more than your devoted cousin and friend—<span class="smcap">Audrey Ross.</span>'</p> + +<p>And when this letter was in the post, and the note for +Geraldine lying on the marble slab in the hall, she felt a sense +of relief, and had leisure to think of Cyril.</p> + +<p>They had their walk together after afternoon school, but it +soon grew dusk, and Audrey suggested that, as her mother was +alone, they should go back to Woodcote to tea. There was no +invitation to dinner that night, but Cyril did not expect it—he +had his dormitory work; and as Audrey promised to see him +before he went away for the night, he was quite content.</p> + +<p>'You must not think that I mean to bore Mrs. Ross with +intruding myself on all occasions,' he said. 'I know you will +tell me when I may come. I mean to be guided entirely by +you. Under these circumstances a man is tempted to be +selfish.'</p> + +<p>'You will never be selfish,' she said, with one of her charming +smiles. 'I could never have promised to marry a selfish +man. But, Cyril, you will be guided by me in that other +thing?' changing her tone, and looking at him very seriously; +for they had had rather a hot argument.</p> + +<p>Cyril was going to Peterborough the next day to buy the +betrothal ring, and Audrey had petitioned for a gold one.</p> + +<p>'But it will only look like a wedding-guard,' he had remonstrated; +for he would rather have denied himself everything +for six months, if only he could buy something fit for her +acceptance—a pearl or sapphire ring, for example. Diamonds +were beyond his means.</p> + +<p>But Audrey could not be induced to say that she liked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">{238}</a></span> +pearls; on the contrary, she manifested an extraordinary +preference for the idea of a broad chased gold band, with her +own and Cyril's initials inside.</p> + +<p>'I am going to marry a poor man,' she said decidedly, 'and +he must not waste his money on me. What does it matter if +it look like a guard? It can serve that purpose afterwards. +Please do not look so disappointed, Cyril. When you can +afford it, you shall give me any ring you like—pearl or diamond; +but I like diamonds best.' And she was so evidently in earnest +that he had to yield to her; and Audrey wore her gold ring +with immense satisfaction.</p> + +<p>Audrey spent her evening quietly with her parents. She +and Dr. Ross played chess together, and when he went off to +his study she stayed and talked to her mother.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ross was not a lively companion that evening. The +fear of Geraldine's disapproval was quickening her latent feelings +of uneasiness into activity, and she could not keep these feelings +to herself.</p> + +<p>'I wonder if Geraldine will answer your letter this evening, +Audrey?'</p> + +<p>'I don't think so, mother dear. I am to go there to-morrow, +you see, so there will be no need for her to write.'</p> + +<p>'I am afraid that she will be hurt because you have not +gone to her to-day; she will think it rather odd for you to +write.'</p> + +<p>'Why, mother,' opening her eyes rather widely at this, +'don't you remember Mr. and Mrs. Bland were to lunch there? +How could Gage have given me her attention? And then, +with guests to entertain, it would never have done to run the +risk of upsetting her. Percival would have glared at us all +through luncheon if he had noticed her eyes were red. You +know how easily Gage cries.'</p> + +<p>'Did you tell her this in your letter?'</p> + +<p>'I think I implied it, but I am not sure.'</p> + +<p>'Ah, well, we must wait until to-morrow,' with a sigh; +'but I cannot deny I am very anxious. You will go up to +Hillside directly after breakfast, will you not, my dear? And +do beg Geraldine to come back with you. I feel I shall not +have a moment's peace until I have seen her.'</p> + +<p>'Poor dear mother!' observed Audrey caressingly; for +there was a look of care on Mrs. Ross's brow.</p> + +<p>But though Audrey cheered up her mother, and made her +little jokes, she was quite aware of the ordeal that was before<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">{239}</a></span> +her, and it was with some undefined idea of propitiating her +sister that she laid aside the red cashmere the next morning +and put on a certain gray gown which Gage especially admired. +It had a hat to match, with a gray wing, and Geraldine always +looked at her approvingly when she came to Hillside in the +gray gown. She was on the terrace, picking two or three +yellow chrysanthemums, when she saw her brother-in-law +coming towards her. A visit from him at this hour was a +most unusual proceeding, and Audrey at once guessed that his +business was with her. The idea of any interference from her +brother-in-law was decidedly unpalatable; nevertheless, she +awaited him smilingly. Mr. Harcourt was a man who walked +well. He had a fine carriage of the head, though some people +said he held himself a little too erect, and too much with the +air of a man who recognises his own superiority; but, as +Audrey watched him as he walked up the terrace, she thought +he had never held his head so proudly before.</p> + +<p>'You are a very early visitor this morning, Percival,' she +observed, as she arranged the chrysanthemums in her gray +dress; and she looked up at him pleasantly as she shook hands +with him.</p> + +<p>But there was no answering smile on Mr. Harcourt's face.</p> + +<p>'It is a very unusual business that brings me,' he replied +rather solemnly. 'Is there anyone in the drawing-room, +Audrey? I should like to speak to you quietly.'</p> + +<p>'Susan is in there, dusting the ornaments, but I can easily +send her away,' rejoined Audrey cheerfully. 'Mother is in the +study.' And then she led the way to the drawing-room, and +gave Susan a hint to withdraw.</p> + +<p>Mr. Harcourt waited until the door was shut, then he put +down his hat and faced round on his sister-in-law.</p> + +<p>'This is a very sad business,' he said, still with the same +portentous air of solemnity. 'I am sorry to say your sister is +dreadfully upset.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, I hope not,' returned Audrey quickly.</p> + +<p>'I have never seen her more upset about anything. She +hardly slept at all last night, and I was half afraid I should +have to send for Dr. Musgrave this morning: she was not quite +strong enough to bear such a shock.'</p> + +<p>'Gage is so sensitive, you see.'</p> + +<p>'She is not more sensitive than other people,' feeling himself +bound to defend his wife's nerves. 'I am not in the least +surprised to find how much she has taken it to heart. I think<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">{240}</a></span> +she feels very properly about it. We are both as disappointed +as possible—we hoped better things of you, Audrey.'</p> + +<p>'Is not that a little severe?'</p> + +<p>'I think not. I am bound to tell you the truth plainly, +that Geraldine and I strongly disapprove of this engagement.'</p> + +<p>'I am so sorry,' returned Audrey, with provoking good-humour; +'but you see, Percival, one must be guided by one's +own feelings in such a personal matter; and I hope when you +and Gage know Mr. Blake a little better that you will alter +your opinion.'</p> + +<p>'I am afraid I must differ from you there, even at the risk +of displeasing you. I must say that I think Mr. Blake is the +last man to make you happy.'</p> + +<p>'Now, what reason can you have for making such a sweeping +assertion?' asked Audrey, waxing a little warm at this. Percival +had no right to stand there lecturing her after this fashion; it +was not in a brother-in-law's province to interfere with her +choice of a lover. If her parents had given their sanction to +her engagement, and allowed her to throw herself away on a +poor man, it was surely no one else's business to say a dissenting +word. Percival might go home and lecture his own wife if he +liked. 'It is a pity you and Gage are so worldly,' she said, in +what was meant to be a withering tone. Audrey had never +been so near quarrelling with her brother-in-law.</p> + +<p>'Worldly?' he repeated, in rather a perplexed tone. 'My +dear girl, I confess I do not understand you.'</p> + +<p>'It is very easy to understand,' she returned coldly. 'You +and Gage object to Mr. Blake because he is poor and has not +made his position; you think I am throwing myself away, +because I have engaged myself to a junior classical master who +has to work his way up.'</p> + +<p>'Just so,' observed Mr. Harcourt; 'that is exactly what we +do think.'</p> + +<p>'And yet you are surprised because I call you worldly. If +you only knew how differently father and I think! Perhaps +he is disappointed too—indeed, I know that he is; he wanted +me to marry an older man—but, all the same, he agrees with +me, that a man so honourable and clever, one who has borne so +high a character, who is so good a son and brother, would be +likely to make a woman happy.'</p> + +<p>Mr. Harcourt shrugged his shoulders. They were arguing +from different points. Audrey was not likely to convince him: +he had started with a preconceived dislike to the whole business.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">{241}</a></span> +He now proceeded to pull Audrey's impulsive speech to +pieces.</p> + +<p>'I do not deny that Blake is a good fellow, and he is clever, +too; but in marrying him you will be descending in the social +scale. Who are the Blakes? No one knows anything about +them—Edith always declared the father was a City man—but +we do know that his mother is distinctly objectionable!'</p> + +<p>'Excuse me, Percival, but you are speaking of a close friend. +Even if she were not Cyril's mother, my friendship for her +should prevent you from speaking against her in my presence.'</p> + +<p>Mr. Harcourt groaned as he heard the word 'Cyril,' but he +felt at the same time that he had gone too far: his quick +temper had carried him away. He hastened to apologise.</p> + +<p>'You must forgive me, Audrey, if I speak a little too +plainly. But this is such a bitter disappointment to me, my +very affection for you makes me object all the more strongly +to this engagement. As Geraldine said to me last night, she +has only one sister—and this makes it all the harder for her.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, I understand; and I am very sorry to disappoint you +both. But, Percival, the thing is done now, and I want you +and Gage to make the best of it.'</p> + +<p>'Will you not reconsider your decision?' he asked, and there +was softness and real affection in his look. 'Perhaps, after all, +you may have mistaken your feelings; a girl is sometimes +talked into a thing.'</p> + +<p>But she shook her head.</p> + +<p>'I have not mistaken them,' she said quietly. 'Don't say +any more, Percival; I have no wish to quarrel; and, of course, +I am a little sore about this.'</p> + +<p>Then Mr. Harcourt felt that his mission had been unsuccessful; +the girl was contumacious, and would listen to no one.</p> + +<p>'It's all Dr. Ross's fault,' he said to himself, as he took up +his hat and prepared to walk with her to Hillside. 'If he had +refused his consent she would have given the thing up; but in +worldly matters my respected father-in-law is a mere child.'</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">{242}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI</h2> + +<h3>HOW GERALDINE TOOK IT TO HEART</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>'This world is a comedy to those who think, a tragedy to those who +feel.'—<span class="smcap">Horace Walpole.</span></p></div> + + +<p>It may be doubted if either Audrey or her brother-in-law +enjoyed their walk to Hillside. Mr. Harcourt felt that he had +failed signally in his brotherly mission, and any sort of failure +was intolerable to him. To do him justice, he was thinking +only of Audrey's future welfare. As he took up the wide +clerical-looking hat that he affected, and walked with her down +the terrace, he told himself sorrowfully that he might as well +have held his tongue; but, all the same, he could not refrain +from speaking another word or two.</p> + +<p>'I do so wish I could make you see this thing as your +friends will see it!' he said, no longer laying down the law, +but speaking in a tone of mild insistence, as became a man +who knew himself to be right. 'They may not be so closely +interested in the matter, but perhaps their view may be less +prejudiced. Think, my dear girl, what a serious, what a +terrible thing it would be if you were to discover too late that +you had made a mistake!'</p> + +<p>'I should never own it to be one,' she said, trying to smile; +but it could not be denied that she found her brother-in-law a +little depressing; 'and you may be quite sure that I should +abide by it. There is a fund of obstinacy in my nature that no +one seems to have discovered but myself.'</p> + +<p>Then Mr. Harcourt gave vent to an impatient sigh. He +must leave her to Geraldine, he thought; but even then he +could not forbear from one Parthian thrust.</p> + +<p>'You will live to repent it,' he said very seriously, 'and then +you will remember my warning. You must not look to me to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">{243}</a></span> +help you out of your difficulties then, Audrey; I would have +done anything for you now.'</p> + +<p>'I will promise you that I will not ask for your help,' she +returned, so promptly that he looked quite hurt. And she +hastened to soften her words. 'If one makes a mistake of +that kind, one must only look to one's self.'</p> + +<p>'I have always regarded your interests as identical with +Edith's,' he returned a little stiffly. 'I mean, I have always +treated you as though you were my own sister; but, of course, +if you cannot rely on me as your brother——'</p> + +<p>But Audrey would not let him finish his sentence.</p> + +<p>'Why, Percival,' she said gently, 'I do believe you are +quarrelling with me, just because I am taking you at your +word. Are you not just a little illogical for once? In one +breath you tell me not to look to you for help, and then you +reproach me with unsisterly feelings. How are we to understand +each other at this rate?'</p> + +<p>Then a faint smile played round Mr. Harcourt's mouth. It +was true that, in the heat of argument, he did not always +measure his words; even Geraldine had ventured to tell him so +once.</p> + +<p>'Well, well, we will say no more about it,' he returned +somewhat magnanimously; and though he could not pluck up +spirit to turn the conversation into another channel, he refrained +from any more depressing remarks. He gave her a friendly +nod and smile as they parted in the hall.</p> + +<p>'You will find Geraldine in the morning-room,' he said; +and Audrey was much relieved that he did not offer to accompany +her.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Harcourt evidently regarded herself as an invalid that +morning. She was sitting in the corner of the big couch, in +her pale-pink tea-gown. She rose at her sister's entrance, +however, and crossed the room with languid steps.</p> + +<p>'Did Percival bring you?' she asked, as she kissed her.</p> + +<p>Audrey felt as though she were to blame when she saw +Geraldine's heavy eyes.</p> + +<p>'I am afraid you are far from well, Gage,' she said a little +anxiously, for, after all, Geraldine was her only sister, and if +things should go wrong with her——. She felt a momentary +compunction—one of those keen, pin-like pricks of conscience—as +she remembered how often she had been vexed with her +little ways.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Harcourt looked at her mournfully.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">{244}</a></span></p> + +<p>'How can I be well?' she said, with reproachful sweetness +in her voice. 'I do not think I had three hours' sleep last +night. Percival got quite concerned about me at last. Oh, +Audrey, you have made me so very unhappy!' and her eyes +filled with tears.</p> + +<p>'My dear Gage, I would not willingly make you unhappy +for worlds!'</p> + +<p>'But, all the same, it has been such a shock—such a cruel +disappointment to us both! Percival was nearly as upset +about it as I was. If you could have seen him walking up +and down the room last night! "She must be mad to throw +herself away in this fashion!"—he would say nothing else for +a long time.'</p> + +<p>'I am quite aware of Percival's sentiments,' returned Audrey +coldly.</p> + +<p>Her manner alarmed Geraldine. 'But you have not +quarrelled with him for telling you the truth?' she asked with +unmistakable anxiety. 'Oh, Audrey, you do not know how +fond Percival is of you! He is as proud of you as though you +were his own sister. He has always looked forward to your +marriage. He used to say none of the men he knew were half +good enough for you; that you ought to have someone who +would be in every way your superior, and to whom you could +look up.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, and it is such a blessing that I can look up to Cyril.'</p> + +<p>'But he is so young; and though he is nice—yes, of course, +he is very nice and good-looking and clever—still one wants +more in a husband. Somehow I never realised these things +until I was actually standing at the altar with Percival and +said those solemn words for myself: "For better for worse, for +richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death us do +part." I felt then that if I had not been so sure of Percival I +would rather have died than have said those words.'</p> + +<p>A faint shiver passed over Audrey as Geraldine spoke. She +had never heard her talk in this way before. 'Dear, dear +Audrey,' she continued, taking her sister's hand; 'can you +wonder that I am anxious that you should be as happy as I +am, that it nearly breaks my heart to know that you are +taking this false step?'</p> + +<p>A painful flush crossed Audrey's face. This was a worse +ordeal than she had expected. She had been prepared for +reproaches, even for bitter words; but this softness, this tearful +and caressing gentleness, seemed to deprive her of all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">{245}</a></span> +strength, to cut away the ground from under her feet. She +was at once touched and grateful for her sister's forbearance.</p> + +<p>'You are very good to me, Gage,' she said in a low voice; +'I know how utterly I have disappointed you and Percival—and +from a worldly point of view I daresay you are both right. +Cyril is poor, he has to work his way up, he is not what +people would call a good match; but then, you know, I have +always been terribly unpractical.'</p> + +<p>'It is not only that,' sighed Geraldine; 'as far as Mr. +Blake is concerned, one cannot say much against him; he is +very gentlemanly. I suppose one would get used to him, +though I shall never, never think him good enough for you. +But there are other objections: the idea that Mrs. Blake will +be your mother-in-law makes me utterly wretched.'</p> + +<p>'Poor woman! she is so nice, and I am so fond of her. I +often wonder why you are so prejudiced against her, Gage; +but of course it is all that tiresome Mrs. Bryce.'</p> + +<p>'No, indeed, it is not,' returned Mrs. Harcourt quickly. 'I +do not want to vex you, Audrey; things are miserable enough +without our quarrelling, and however unhappy you make me, I +will never quarrel with my only sister. But you must let me +say this for once, that I cannot like Mrs. Blake. From the +first moment I have distrusted her, and I know Percival feels +the same.'</p> + +<p>'But, Gage, do be reasonable. I am going to marry Cyril, +not Mrs. Blake!'</p> + +<p>'When a woman marries she enters her husband's family,' +returned Geraldine in her old decided manner; 'you will +belong to them, not to us—at least,' correcting herself, as the +thought of her daily visits to Woodcote occurred to her, 'you +will have to share your husband's interests and responsibilities +with regard to his family. You cannot divide yourself from +him without failing in your wifely duty.'</p> + +<p>'I am quite of your opinion,' returned Audrey happily; +'Cyril's mother and Kester and Mollie will be very dear to me. +I never dreamt for one moment of separating my interests from +his.'</p> + +<p>'If I thought you really loved him——' observed Geraldine, +but here she stopped, warned by an indignant flash in Audrey's +gray eyes.</p> + +<p>'You might have spared me that, Gage,' she said, rather +sadly; 'I think I have had enough to bear already from you +and Percival. You have done your best to depress and dishearten<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">{246}</a></span> +me; you have not even wished me happiness.' Then +Geraldine burst into tears.</p> + +<p>'I don't want to be unkind,' she sobbed, in such distress +that Audrey repented her quick words; 'but you must give me +time to get over this. It is the first real trouble I have ever +had.' And then, as Audrey kissed her and coaxed her, she +allowed herself to be somewhat consoled.</p> + +<p>'You know you must think of yourself, Gage; you must +not make yourself ill about me. I am not worth it.' Then +Geraldine did summon up a smile.</p> + +<p>'And you will be good to Cyril? The poor fellow could not +help falling in love with me, you know.'</p> + +<p>'Of course we shall behave properly to him,' returned Geraldine, +drawing herself up a little stiffly; 'you must not expect +us to receive him with open arms. Mr. Blake must know +how entirely we disapprove of the engagement; but, of course, +as my father has given his consent, we have no right to +make ourselves disagreeable. You must give me a little time, +Audrey, just to recover myself, and then he shall be asked to +dinner.'</p> + +<p>'I hope you will not ask me at the same time!' exclaimed +Audrey in genuine alarm; and Geraldine looked rather shocked.</p> + +<p>'Of course you must come with him! that is understood. +You will be asked everywhere if—if——' looking at her suggestively, +'you mean your engagement to be known.'</p> + +<p>'Most certainly! I object very strongly to secrecy under +any circumstances.'</p> + +<p>'Then in that case you must be prepared for congratulations +and a round of dinners.'</p> + +<p>'I prefer congratulations to condolences,' returned Audrey a +little wickedly; and then, as though to atone for her joke, she +suddenly knelt down before her sister and put her arms round +her. 'Dear Gage, I do feel such a wretch for having upset you +like this. No wonder Percival owes me a grudge. Now, do +say something nice to me before I go—there's a darling!' and, +of course, Geraldine melted in a moment.</p> + +<p>'I do pray, with all my heart, that you may be happy,' she +sighed, and then they kissed each other very affectionately. +'Give my love to mother, and tell her I am not well enough to +come to her to-day,' were Geraldine's parting words as Audrey +left her.</p> + +<p>Mr. Harcourt came out of his study the moment he heard +the door close.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">{247}</a></span></p> + +<p>'Well,' he asked, with a shade of anxiety in his tone, 'have +you made any impression, my dear?'</p> + +<p>'No, Percy,' returned his wife sadly. 'She is bent on taking +her own way—the Blake influence is far too strong.'</p> + +<p>'Ah, well,' in a tone of strong disgust, 'she is making her +own bed, and must lie on it. It was an evil day for all of us +when your father engaged Blake for his junior classical master. +I wanted him to have Sowerby—Sowerby is the better man, +and all his people are gentlefolks—but there is no turning the +Doctor when he has got an idea in his head: no one but Blake +would do. And now mischief has come of it. But, all the +same, I won't have you making yourself ill about it—remember +that, my love. You have got me to think about, and I don't +choose to have my wife spoiling her eyes after this fashion. It +is too damp for you to go out, for there has been a sharp shower +or two; but I have half an hour to spare, and can read to you +if you like.' And to this Geraldine gratefully assented.</p> + +<p>It may be doubted whether she heard much of the brilliant +essay that Mr. Harcourt had selected for her delectation, but +it was very soothing to lie there and listen to her husband's +voice. The sentences grew involved presently, and there was a +humming, as though of bees, in the quiet room. Mr. Harcourt +smiled to himself as he went on reading—the sleep would do +her more good than the essay, he thought; and in this he was +right.</p> + +<p>When Mrs. Ross received her daughter's message she at once +prepared to go up to Hillside, and spent the remainder of the +afternoon there.</p> + +<p>Geraldine had awakened from her nap much refreshed, and +was disposed to take a less lugubrious view of things. She +was certainly somewhat depressing at first, and her mother +found her implied reproaches somewhat hard to bear; but she +was still too languid and subdued to speak with her usual +decision.</p> + +<p>'I suppose that we shall have to make the best of it,' she +observed presently, in a resigned tone of voice. 'It will always +be a great trouble to me—but one must expect trouble in this +world, as I said to Percy just now. I am afraid we have been +too happy.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, my dear! you must not say such things.'</p> + +<p>'It is better to say them than to think them. Percy never +minds how much I complain to him, if I will only not brood +over worries by myself. He says that it is so bad for me.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">{248}</a></span></p> + +<p>'Percival is quite right, my love;' and Mrs. Ross looked +anxiously at her daughter's pale face. 'But you know your +one duty is to keep yourself cheerful. Try and put all this +away from your mind, and leave Audrey to be happy in her +own way. Mr. Blake is really a very nice lovable fellow, and +I am quite fond of him already, and so is your father—and I +am sure your father is a good judge of character.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, mother dear; and you must not think Percy and I +mean to be tiresome and disagreeable. It is not the young +man so much that we mind—though we shall always think +Audrey is lowering herself in marrying him—but it is that +odious Mrs. Blake.'</p> + +<p>Then, for the moment, Mrs. Ross felt herself uncomfortable. +Mrs. Blake had called on her that very morning, while Audrey +was at Hillside, and in spite of her mildness and toleration she +had been obliged to confess to herself that Mrs. Blake's manners +had not quite pleased her. Geraldine managed to extract the +whole account of the interview, though Mrs. Ross gave it rather +reluctantly.</p> + +<p>'And I suppose she was absurdly impulsive, as usual, +mother?' she asked, when Mrs. Ross had finished a somewhat +brief narrative.</p> + +<p>'Well, yes. She is always rather effusive; people have +their own style, you see.'</p> + +<p>'Only Mrs. Blake's is, unfortunately, a very bad style.'</p> + +<p>'I daresay you are right, my dear, and I certainly prefer a +quieter manner; and it was not quite good taste lauding your +father and me to the skies for our goodness in allowing the +match. Poor woman! I daresay she was a little excited; +only it was a pity to let her feelings carry her away—still, she +was very nice about Audrey.'</p> + +<p>'She will be her daughter-in-law, you know.'</p> + +<p>Then Mrs. Ross winced slightly. She was glad that Mrs. +Charrington was that moment announced—she was a pleasant +chatty woman, and always paid long visits: Geraldine was her +special favourite. As the news of the engagement had not yet +reached her, the talk was confined to certain local interests: a +new grant of books to the library, the difficulty of finding a +butler, and the lameness of one of Dr. Ross's carriage-horses; +and Mrs. Ross was in this manner relieved from any more +awkward questions.</p> + +<p>Her husband was her only confidant, and to him she did +disburden herself.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">{249}</a></span></p> + +<p>'I do wish that Mrs. Blake were a different sort of woman, +John,' she observed that night. 'She is very handsome and +amusing; but she is certainly too unrestrained in her talk.'</p> + +<p>'We must take folk as we find them, Emmie,' returned Dr. +Ross quietly. 'Mrs. Blake is not your sort. In spite of having +a grown-up son, she is not quite grown-up herself: middle-aged +people ought not to talk out all their feelings as though they +were children. But she is a very pleasing person for all that.'</p> + +<p>'So I always thought; but she tires one. Not that I would +let Audrey know that.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, Audrey would keep a dozen Mrs. Blakes in order,' +was her husband's response; and then Mrs. Ross said no more.</p> + +<p>Geraldine kept her word, and about a week later Cyril +Blake received a civil little note, asking him to dine at Hillside +on the following evening.</p> + +<p>'We shall be quite by ourselves. It will be only a family +party—just my husband's brother, Mr. Walter Harcourt, and +his wife;' for the Walter Harcourts had come on a visit.</p> + +<p>Cyril looked a little grave as he showed the note to Audrey.</p> + +<p>'I suppose I must go; but it will be very terrible. I don't +mind telling you, Audrey, that I am awfully afraid of your +sister.'</p> + +<p>'Poor fellow!' returned Audrey, with one of her charming +smiles; 'I wish I could spare you this ordeal. But I can give +you one bit of comfort: Gage will behave very nicely to you.' +And though Cyril still felt a little dubious on this point, he was +obliged to own afterwards that she was right.</p> + +<p>The evening was a far pleasanter one than he expected. Mr. +Harcourt was thawed by his brother's presence, and though +there was a slight stiffness and reserve in his manner to Cyril, +there was no aggressiveness; and Geraldine was too much of a +gentlewoman to behave ungraciously to any guest. Both of +them were quite civil to Cyril, though they could not be said +to be demonstrative, and there was no attempt to treat him as +one of themselves.</p> + +<p>Mr. Walter Harcourt was a barrister, and was rapidly rising +in his profession. He was considerably younger than his brother, +and had recently married a wealthy young widow. He was a +clever talker, and his stock of legal anecdotes kept them all +well amused. He and Audrey were old friends, and at one +time Geraldine and her husband had privately hoped that their +acquaintance might ripen into a tenderer feeling.</p> + +<p>As soon as the ladies reached the drawing-room, Mrs. Walter<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">{250}</a></span> +Harcourt, who was a pretty, vivacious little woman, observed +confidentially to Geraldine:</p> + +<p>'My dear, I must congratulate you. That future brother-in-law +of yours is one of the handsomest men I have ever seen. I +always thought Walter a good-looking fellow, and I daresay +you thought much the same of Percival; but both our husbands +looked very ordinary people beside him. In fact, Walter was +quite clumsy.'</p> + +<p>'Nonsense, Maggie!' returned Geraldine, glancing behind +her to see if Audrey were within earshot. 'How can you make +such absurd comparisons? Of course Mr. Blake is good-looking; +but, for my own part, I always distrust handsome men.'</p> + +<p>'They are generally such fools, you see. I hate talking to a +man who is too self-engrossed to pay me attention. But Mr. +Blake is thoroughly nice. I must go to Audrey and tell her +how much I admire her <i>fiancé</i>.'</p> + +<p>'Thank goodness, that is over!' exclaimed Cyril fervently, +as Audrey joined him in the porch. 'I have not had a word +with you yet.'</p> + +<p>Audrey smiled as she gathered up her long dress and stepped +out into the dark shrubberies.</p> + +<p>'It was very pleasant,' she observed tranquilly. 'The Walter +Harcourts are clever, amusing people. You got on capitally +with both of them; and, Cyril, I am sure Gage was as nice as +possible.'</p> + +<p>'Oh yes!' he returned quickly; 'and I admire her +excessively; but, all the same, I shall never feel at my ease +with her.' And, as Audrey uttered a protest at this, he +continued seriously: 'Of course, I know what Mrs. Harcourt +thinks of my presumption; her manner told me that at once. +"You are not one of us"—that is what her tone said to me; +and yet she was quite kind and civil. Oh, Audrey'—interrupting +himself, and speaking almost passionately—'if I +were only more worthy of you! But have patience with me, +and your people shall respect me yet.'</p> + +<p>'Dear Cyril, please do not talk so!' and Audrey stole closer +to him in the October darkness. 'You have behaved so +beautifully to-night, and I felt, oh! so proud of my sweetheart. +And if I am content, what does it matter what other people +think?'</p> + +<p>'Forgive me, darling,' he returned remorsefully; 'I am +only sometimes a little sore because I can give you so little.'</p> + +<p>And then his mood changed, for the subtle comfort of her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">{251}</a></span> +sweet words was thrilling through him; for he was young, and +the girl he worshipped from the depths of his honest heart was +alone with him under the dim, cloudy skies. Was it any +wonder that the world was forgotten, and only the golden haze +of the future seemed before them, as they walked together +through the quiet streets to Woodcote?</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">{252}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII</h2> + +<h3>WHAT MICHAEL THOUGHT OF IT</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>'Not to be solitary one must possess, entirely to one's self, a human +creature, and belong exclusively to her (or him).'—<span class="smcap">Guizot.</span></p> + +<p>'How, then, is one to recover courage enough for action?</p> + +<p class="sep">******</p> + +<p class="noind">By extracting a richer experience out of our losses and lessons.'—<span class="smcap">Amiel.</span></p></div> + + +<p>Captain Burnett had finished his troublesome piece of +business, and was thinking of his return home. His friend +was, metaphorically speaking, on his feet again, and Michael +was now free to leave London. He had waited, however, for +another day or two on Kester's account; the friendly doctor +who had undertaken to look into his case had already done +wonders. Kester was making rapid progress under his care, +and his bright looks and evident enjoyment of his town life +reconciled Michael to their long, protracted stay.</p> + +<p>'We must certainly go back to Rutherford next week,' he +observed one morning, as they sat at breakfast together.</p> + +<p>Kester had some appointment with Fred Somers that called +him out early, and Captain Burnett good-naturedly left his letters +unread, that he might pour out the coffee and attend to his wants.</p> + +<p>'They will keep, and I have nothing to do this morning,' +he remarked carelessly, as he took them up and laid them down +again.</p> + +<p>After all, he would not be sorry to read them alone. +There was an Indian letter, and one from Audrey, and several +notes that were evidently invitations.</p> + +<p>When Kester had left him, he sat down in an easy-chair by +the window. There was a little table beside him, with a red +jar full of brown leaves and chrysanthemums. He picked out +one and played with it for a moment, and then Booty jumped +up uninvited and curled himself up on his knee.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">{253}</a></span></p> + +<p>He read the invitations first, and then threw them aside.</p> + +<p>'I shall be at Rutherford,' he thought; and then he opened +his Indian letter.</p> + +<p>It was from a fellow-officer, and contained an amusing account +of a visit he had lately paid to Calcutta. Just at the end it +said: 'By the bye, somebody told me the other day that your +uncle, Mr. Carlisle, was ill. He has got a nasty attack, and +the doctors are shaking their heads over him. The fellow who +told me—it was Donarton—mentioned that you were likely to +take a lively interest in the news. Is that true, old man, or +has Mr. Carlisle any nearer relative than yourself? From what +I hear, he is a sort of nabob in these parts.'</p> + +<p>Captain Burnett put down this letter, and looked dreamily +out of the window. Was it really so, he wondered? Major +Glenyow was not the sort of fellow to mention a mere report. +His uncle was by no means an old man, and once or twice a +rumour of his intended marriage had reached his ears, but it +had never been verified. If it were true that his uncle were in +a bad way, that he should not recover, then, indeed, there was +a possibility. And here, in spite of himself, Michael fell into a +day-dream.</p> + +<p>If he were rich, if he had sufficient to offer a comfortable +home and some of the luxuries of life to the woman he wished +to make his wife, would it be right for him to speak? For +years his poverty and ill-health had kept him silent; he had +made no sign: he had been her faithful friend and cousin—that +was all!</p> + +<p>But now, if the pressure of narrow means were removed, if, +after all, he were his uncle's heir—as he verily believed himself +to be—might he not venture to plead his cause at last? His +health was better, and his doctor had often told him, half +seriously and half in joke, that all he needed was a good wife +to take care of him.</p> + +<p>'I shall never be as strong as other men,' he said to himself; +'some women might object to me on that score. But she is +not that sort: she loves to take care of people, to feel herself +necessary to them.' And here a smile came to his lips. 'I +have never spoken to her, never dropped a hint of my feelings; +but, somehow, I do not think she would be surprised if I ever +told them—we have been so much to each other. I think I +could teach her to love me in time—at least, I would try, my +sweet.' And here there was a sudden gleam and fire in his +eyes, and then he took up Audrey's letter, and began to read it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">{254}</a></span></p> + +<p>But when he had finished the first sentence, a curious dull +feeling came over him, and he found that he could not understand +what he was reading; he must go over the passage again. +But as he re-read it the same numbness and impossibility of +comprehension came over him; and yet the words were very +clearly written:</p> + +<p>'Shall you be very much surprised, my dear Michael, to hear +some news I have to tell you? I am engaged to Mr. Blake. +I will tell you all about it presently, just as though you were +my father-confessor; I will not hide one little thing from you. +But I was never one to beat about the bush, and I hope my +abruptness has not made you jump; but oh, Michael dear, I +am so happy!' etc.</p> + +<p>He read this sentence half a dozen times, until something of +its meaning had taken hold of his dense brain; and then he +read the letter straight through to the very end, slowly, and +often pausing over a sentence that seemed to him a little +involved. And as he read there was a pinched gray look upon +his face, as though some sudden illness had seized him; but he +was not conscious of any active pain, though the whole plan +and purpose of his life lay crushed in the dust before him, like +the chrysanthemum that Booty was tearing, petal by petal, +until his master's coat-sleeve was covered with golden-brown +shreds. On the contrary, as he sat there, holding the letter +between his limp hands, his mind wandered off to a story he +had once read.</p> + +<p>Was it the wreck of the <i>Royal George</i>, he wondered? The +name of the vessel had escaped him, but he knew the story was +a true one; it had really happened. He had read how the +vessel was doomed. She was a troop-ship, and there were +hundreds of brave English soldiers on board; and when they +knew there was no hope, the officers drew up their men on the +deck, just as though they were on parade; and the gallant +fellows stood there, in rank and file, as they went down to their +watery grave.</p> + +<p>'And not a man of them flinched, you may depend on that,' +he said, half aloud; 'for they were Englishmen, and Englishmen +know how to die.'</p> + +<p>And it seemed to him that he was still ruminating over this +old story that had happened so many, many years ago, when +Kester returned, and he must needs tell him the story again, +and he told it very well, too.</p> + +<p>'And not a man of them flinched,' he repeated, rising a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">{255}</a></span> +little feebly from his chair, 'for they were Englishmen, and +Englishmen know how to die. Why are you staring at me, +boy? It is a good story, is it not?'</p> + +<p>'Very good indeed, but I was only afraid you were not quite +well, Captain Burnett; you look so queer, somehow, and your +hand is shaking.'</p> + +<p>'I have sat too long. I think I must walk off my stiffness. +Don't wait lunch for me, Kester. I may go to my club.'</p> + +<p>And then he took down his hat, and went out in the streets, +with Booty ambling along at his heels.</p> + +<p>But he did not go far; he strolled into the Park and sat +down on a bench. The air refreshed him, and the miserable +numb feelings left him, and he had power to think.</p> + +<p>But there were deep lines in his face as he sat there, and a +great sadness in his eyes, and just before he rose to go home a +few words escaped him. 'Oh, my darling, what a mistake, +when you belong to me! Will you ever find it out for yourself? +Will you ever recognise that it is a mistake?' And then he +set his teeth hard, like a man who knows his strength and +refuses to be beaten.</p> + +<p>And the next morning, as they sat at breakfast, Michael +looked up from his newspaper and asked Kester if he had heard +the Rutherford news.</p> + +<p>'Perhaps your mother or Mollie has written to you?' he +observed, as he carelessly scanned the columns.</p> + +<p>Kester looked up a little anxiously.</p> + +<p>'No one has told me anything,' he said, rather nervously. +'I hope it is not bad news.'</p> + +<p>'Most people would call it good news. Your brother and +Miss Ross are engaged. Well'—as Kester jumped from his +seat flushing scarlet—'aren't you delighted? I think you +ought to write a pretty note to Miss Ross to go with my letter.'</p> + +<p>'Have you written to her? Will you give her a message +from me? I would rather write to Cyril. I don't take it in, +somehow; you are quite sure it is true, Captain Burnett? Of +course, I am glad that Cyril should be happy, but I always +thought——'</p> + +<p>And here Kester stammered and got confused; but Michael +did not help him. He took up his paper again, and left him +to finish his breakfast in silence, and after that he remarked +that he was going down to his club.</p> + +<p>Kester curled himself up on the window-seat as soon as he +was left alone, and fell into a brown study. Somehow he could<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">{256}</a></span> +not make it out at all. He was sharp-witted by nature, and +years of suffering and forced inaction had made him more +thoughtful than most boys of his age. He had long ago grasped +the idea that his idolised hero was not happy, and during their +stay in Scotland some dim surmise of the truth had occurred to +him.</p> + +<p>'Dear old Cyril!' he observed, half aloud; 'I am awfully +glad for his sake; but it always seemed to me as though Miss +Ross were a cut above us. If only I were sure that he was +glad, too.'</p> + +<p>And here a troubled look crossed the boy's face; he was +thinking of the story Captain Burnett had told him yesterday, +and of the strange dazed look in Michael's eyes: 'And not a +man of them flinched; for they were Englishmen, and Englishmen +know how to die.' 'Ah, and to live, too!' thought Kester, +as he roused himself at last and sat down to his Greek.</p> + +<p>When Audrey heard that Michael was really coming home, +she felt as though she had nothing more to wish. She had +read his letter at least a dozen times; its brotherly tenderness +and anxiety for her welfare had touched her to the heart.</p> + +<p>'I am very grateful for your confidence,' he wrote, after a +few earnest wishes for her happiness. 'I would like, if it were +possible, to keep my old place as Mentor—we have always been +such friends, dear, such true and trusty comrades; and I do not +think that Mr. Blake will object to my cousinly surveillance. +I could not afford to lose you out of my life, Audrey; so let +me subscribe myself, now and for ever, your faithful friend and +brother—<span class="smcap">Michael.</span>'</p> + +<p>Audrey sighed gently as she put down the letter; it touched, +but it did not completely satisfy her. Michael had not said he +was glad to hear of her engagement. He was truthful almost to a +fault. The conventional falsehoods that other men uttered were +never on his lips. If he could not approve, he would take refuge +in silence. 'Silence never damages a man's character,' he was +fond of saying; but many people found this oppressive. Audrey +had secretly longed for some such word of approval. If Michael +had only told her that he applauded her courage in marrying a +poor man, if he had praised her unworldliness, she would have +been utterly content; but the letter that Michael had written +with a breaking heart held no such comfort for her. He +had accepted her decision without a word, and though his +message of congratulation to Cyril was all that could be wished, +there was no further allusion to him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">{257}</a></span></p> + +<p>'Michael thinks I have been rash,' she said to herself a little +sorrowfully. 'I suppose he, too, considers that Cyril is rather +too young. If Michael were only on our side, I should not +care what the rest of the world thinks;' and then she folded +up the letter.</p> + +<p>But on the day Michael was expected her face was so radiant +that Cyril pretended to be jealous. 'You are very fond of +your cousin,' he observed as he followed her to the window, +where she was watching the clouds a little anxiously.</p> + +<p>Audrey heard him rather absently. She was thinking that +the dampness might bring on Michael's neuralgia, and that, if +he had only named his train, the carriage might have been sent +for him—indeed, she would have driven out herself to meet +him and Kester. 'Oh yes,' she rejoined; 'I have missed him +terribly all this time. Nothing is right without Michael——' +and as Cyril looked a little surprised at this, she added quickly: +'He is like my own brother, Cyril, so it is perfectly natural, +you see; ever since his illness he has been one of us.' And as +Cyril professed himself satisfied with this explanation, there +was nothing more said, and Audrey went up to put the finishing +touches to Michael's rooms, and to arrange the chrysanthemums +and coloured leaves in the big Indian jars. If she had only +known how Michael would shudder at the sight of these chrysanthemums! +He had taken a dislike to the flowers ever since +Booty had covered his coat-sleeve with golden-brown petals.</p> + +<p>After all, Michael came before he was expected. Audrey +was sitting chatting to her mother in the twilight, when they +heard the hall door open and close, and the next moment they +saw Michael standing on the threshold looking at them.</p> + +<p>'My dear Michael!' exclaimed Mrs. Ross; but Audrey had +already crossed the room: both her hands were in Michael's, +and he was looking at her with his old kind smile, though he +did not say a word; but Audrey did not seem to notice his +silence.</p> + +<p>'Have you walked from the Gray Cottage? We did not +hear any wheels. Why did you not let us know your train, +and I would have driven in to meet you? Mother, I am going +to ring for the lamp and tea; Michael will be tired!' And +Audrey did as she said, and then picked up Booty and lavished +all sorts of caresses on the little animal, while she listened to +the quiet explanations that Michael was giving to Mrs. Ross.</p> + +<p>'You are looking very well, Audrey,' he said at last; 'you +have not lost your moorland colour yet.' And though he said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">{258}</a></span> +this in his usual tone, he thought that never in his life had he +seen her look so sweet.</p> + +<p>'I wish I could return the compliment,' was her answer; +'you are looking thin and pale, Michael. You have been giving +us such a good account of yourself, but London never suits you.'</p> + +<p>'I think it suits me better than it did,' he returned quietly; +but he could not quite meet her affectionate look. 'I shall +have to run up there pretty frequently now; one must look up +one's friends more: out of sight is out of mind in many cases.'</p> + +<p>Audrey gave an incredulous smile. She thought Michael +would not act up to this resolution; but he fully meant what +he said. Woodcote, dearly as he loved it, would never be his +home now. Of course, he would do things by degrees: his +brief absences should grow longer and more frequent, until they +had become used to them; and perhaps in time he might break +with his old life altogether. But he put away these thoughts, +and talked to them in his usual easy fashion, asking questions +about Geraldine and her husband; and presently Dr. Ross came +in and monopolised him entirely.</p> + +<p>Audrey felt as though she had not had a word with him +when she went upstairs to dress for dinner. True, he had asked +after Cyril, and inquired if he were coming in that evening; but +on Audrey's replying in the negative he had made no observation.</p> + +<p>'When father is in the room he never will let Michael talk +to anyone else,' she said to herself rather discontentedly; 'if I +could only get him alone!'</p> + +<p>She had her wish presently, for on her return to the drawing-room +she found him lying back in an easy-chair, looking at the +fire. He was evidently thinking intently, for he did not hear +her entrance until she was close beside him; but at the touch +of her hand on his shoulder he started violently.</p> + +<p>'A penny for your thoughts, Michael,' she said gaily, as he +jumped up and stood beside her on the rug.</p> + +<p>'They are too valuable to be saleable,' he returned lightly; +'suppose you let me hear yours instead.'</p> + +<p>'You shall have them and welcome. Oh, Michael, how +delicious it is to be talking to you again; letters are so stupid +and unsatisfactory!'</p> + +<p>'Do you mean my letters in particular?'</p> + +<p>'Oh no! They were as nice as possible; but, all the same, +they did not quite satisfy me. Do you know,' and here her +tone was a little wistful, 'you have not told me that you are +glad about my engagement? You said so many nice things;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">{259}</a></span> +but somehow I was longing for just one word of approval from +my old Mentor.'</p> + +<p>An uneasy flush crossed Michael's face; but the firelight was +flickering just then, and Audrey could not see him distinctly. +For one moment he was silent; then he put her gently in a +seat and placed himself beside her. It would be easier to talk +to her so, and perhaps he was conscious of some sudden weakness.</p> + +<p>'How cold your hands are!' she observed anxiously; 'if +you will break the big coal the fire will burn more brightly.' +And as he obeyed her she continued: 'Ah, now we can see +each other! I do dislike a flickering, uncertain light. Now, +will you tell me frankly if you were glad or sorry when you got +my letter?'</p> + +<p>He was more prepared now, and his voice was quite steady +as he answered her.</p> + +<p>'Mentor has no objection to be catechised, but he wishes to +put one question first. Are you quite content and happy, +Audrey?'</p> + +<p>'Indeed I am!' turning to him one of the brightest faces +he had ever seen.</p> + +<p>'Then, my dear, I am satisfied, too.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, but that will not do! You must tell me your own +private opinion. I know you like Cyril—you have always +spoken well of him; but are you sure that in your heart you +thoroughly approve my choice?'</p> + +<p>She was pressing him close, but he did not flinch; he only +turned to her rather gravely.</p> + +<p>'My dear Audrey, there are limits even to Mentor's privileges. +When two people make up their minds to take each +other for better, for worse, no third person has a right to give +an opinion. I know little of Mr. Blake, but I have already a +respect for him. I am perfectly sure that in time we shall be +good friends.'</p> + +<p>'I hope so—I hope so from my heart!' she returned +earnestly. 'You are very guarded, Michael; and, though you +are too kind to say so, I know you think I have acted rather +hastily. Perhaps you would rather I had waited a little +longer; but Cyril was so unhappy, and I—well, I was not quite +comfortable myself. It is so much nicer to have it all settled.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, I see.'</p> + +<p>'And now everything is just perfect. Oh, Michael, you +must not go away for a long time! I cannot do without you.'</p> + +<p>'I hope you don't expect me to believe that?'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">{260}</a></span></p> + +<p>'But it is perfectly true, I assure you. Actually, Cyril +pretended to be jealous to-day, because I could think of nothing +but your coming home. He was only teasing me; for of course +he understands what we feel for each other. If you were my +own brother, Michael, I could not want you more. But that is +the best of Cyril; he is really so unselfish—almost as unselfish +as you.'</p> + +<p>'My dear child,' returned Michael lazily, 'did you ever hear +of a certain philosopher named Diogenes, and how he set off one +day, lamp in hand, to search through the city for an honest +man? Really, your remark makes me inclined to light my own +private farthing dip, and look for this curious anomaly, an unselfish +man.'</p> + +<p>'You would not have to go far,' she returned innocently. +'There are two of them in Rutherford at the present moment.'</p> + +<p>But he only shook his head and laughed at this guileless +flattery, and at that moment, to his relief, Dr. Ross came into +the room.</p> + +<p>But as he took his place at the dinner-table he had a curious +sensation, as though he had been racked; and, though he +laughed and talked, he had an odd feeling all the time as +though he were not quite sure of his own identity; and all that +evening a few words that Audrey had said haunted him like a +refrain:</p> + +<p>'If you were my own brother, Michael, I could not want you +more—if you were my own brother I could not want you more!'</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">{261}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2> + +<h3>MICHAEL TURNS OVER A NEW LEAF</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>'My privilege is to be the spectator of my own life-drama, to be fully +conscious of the tragi-comedy of my own destiny; and, more than that, +to be in the secret of the tragi-comic itself.</p> + +<p class="sep">******</p> + +<p>'Without grief, which is the string of this venturesome kite, man +would soar too quickly and too high, and the chosen souls would be lost +for the race, like balloons, which, but for gravitation, would never return +from the empyrean.'—<span class="smcap">Amiel.</span></p></div> + + +<p>Michael's return had greatly added to Audrey's happiness. In +spite of her lover's society and her natural joyousness of disposition, +she had been conscious that something had been +lacking to her complete contentment.</p> + +<p>'No one but Michael could take Michael's place,' as she told +him a little pathetically that first evening.</p> + +<p>But when a few days had elapsed she became aware that +things were not quite the same between them—that the Michael +who had come back to her was not exactly the old Michael.</p> + +<p>The old Michael had been somewhat of an autocrat—a good-natured +autocrat, certainly, who tyrannised over her for her +own good, and who assumed the brotherly right of inquiring +into all her movements and small daily plans. They had +always been much together, especially since Geraldine's marriage +had deprived her of sisterly companionship; and it had been +an understood thing in the Ross family that where Audrey was, +Michael was generally not far off.</p> + +<p>Under these circumstances, it was therefore quite natural +that Audrey should expect her cousin to resume his usual +habits. She had counted on his companionship during the +hours Cyril was engaged in his schoolroom duties. In old +times Michael had often accompanied her on her visits to her +various <i>protégées</i>; he had always been her escort to the garden-parties<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">{262}</a></span> +that were greatly in vogue at Rutherford, or he would +drive her to Brail or some of the outlying towns or villages +where she had business.</p> + +<p>It was somewhat of a disappointment, then, to find that +Michael had suddenly turned over a new leaf, and was far too +occupied to be at her beck and call. Kester came to him +almost daily, and it became his custom to spend the remainder +of the morning in Dr. Ross's study. He had a habit, too, of +writing his letters after luncheon; in fact, he was seldom disengaged +until the evening, when he was always ready to take +his place in the family circle.</p> + +<p>Audrey accused herself of selfishness. Of course she ought +to be glad that Michael's health had so much improved. Her +father was always remarking on the change in a tone of +satisfaction.</p> + +<p>'He is like the old Mike,' he said once; 'he has taken +a new departure, and has shaken off his listlessness. Why, he +works quite steadily now for hours without knocking up. He +is a different man. He takes a class for me every morning; it +does me good to see him with half a dozen boys round him. +Blake will have to look out for himself; he is hardly as +popular as the Captain.'</p> + +<p>Audrey took herself to task severely when her father said +this. It was evident that Michael had spoilt her. She was +determined not to monopolise him so selfishly; but, somehow, +when it came to the point, she was always forgetting these +good resolutions.</p> + +<p>And another thing puzzled Audrey: Michael was certainly +quieter than he used to be; when they were alone—which was a +rare occurrence now—he seemed to have so little to say to +her. Sometimes he would take up his book and read out a few +passages, but if she begged him to put it down and talk to her +instead, he would dispute the point in the most tiresome +fashion.</p> + +<p>'I think people talk too much, nowadays,' he would say in +his lazy way; 'it is all lip-service now. If women would only +cultivate their minds a little more, and learn to hold their +tongues until they have something worth saying, the world +would not be flooded with all this muddy small-talk. Now, +for example, if you would allow me to read you this fine +passage from Emerson.'</p> + +<p>But if Audrey would allow nothing of the kind, and if, on +the contrary, she manifested an obstinate determination to talk,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">{263}</a></span> +he would argue with her in the same playful fashion; but she +could never draw him into one of their old confidential talks.</p> + +<p>But when they were all together of an evening, Michael +would be more like his old self. He would sit beside the piano +when she sang, and turn over the leaves for her, or he would +coax her to be his partner in a game of whist, and lecture her +in his old fashion; but all the time he would be looking at her +so kindly that his lectures never troubled her in the least.</p> + +<p>But when Cyril spent the evening at Woodcote, which was +generally once or twice a week, Michael never seemed to think +that they wanted him: he would bury himself in his book or +paper, or challenge Dr. Ross to a game of chess. He never +took any notice of Audrey's appealing looks, and her kindly +attempts to draw him into conversation with her and Cyril +were all disregarded.</p> + +<p>Audrey bore this for some time, and then she made up her +mind that she must speak to him. She was a little shy of +approaching the subject—Michael never seemed to give her any +opening now—but she felt she must have it out with him.</p> + +<p>One evening, when she and Cyril had exchanged their parting +words in the hall, she went back to the drawing-room and +found Michael standing alone before the fire. She went up to +him at once, but as he turned to her she was struck with his +air of weariness and depression.</p> + +<p>'Oh, Michael, how tired you look!' she observed, laying her +hand on his arm. 'Have you neuralgia again?' And as he +shook his head, she continued anxiously: 'Are you sure you +are quite well—that nothing is troubling you? You have +been so very quiet this evening. Michael'—and here she +blushed a little—'I want to say something to you, and yet I +hardly know how to put it—it is just like your thoughtfulness—but, +indeed, there is no need: you are never in the way.'</p> + +<p>'Is this an enigma? If so, I may as well tell you I give it +up at once. I never could guess conundrums;' and Michael +twirled his moustache in a most provoking way; but, all the +same, he perfectly understood her. 'I give it up,' he repeated.</p> + +<p>Audrey pretended to frown.</p> + +<p>'Michael, I never knew you so tiresome before. It is +impossible to speak seriously to you—and I really am serious.' +And then her tone changed, and she looked at him very gently. +'You mean it so kindly, but indeed it is not necessary. Neither +Cyril nor I could ever find you in the way.'</p> + +<p>He looked down at the rug as she spoke, and there was a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">{264}</a></span> +moment's silence before he answered her. She had come +straight to him from her lover to say this thing to him. It +was so like Audrey to tell him this. An odd thought occurred +to him as he listened to her—one of those sudden flashes of +memory that sometimes dart across the mind: he remembered +that once in his life he had kissed her.</p> + +<p>It had been half a lifetime ago. She was only a child. +They were staying in London, and he had come to see them on +his way from some review. He remembered how Audrey had +stood and looked at him. She had the same clear gray eyes +then.</p> + +<p>'How grand you look, Mike!' she exclaimed in an awestruck +tone, for as a child she had always called him 'Mike.' +'I wish you would always wear that beautiful scarlet coat; and +I think, if you did not mind, I should like you to kiss me just +for once.'</p> + +<p>Michael remembered how he had felt as she made that +innocent request, and how Dr. Ross had laughed; and then, +when he kissed her cheek, she thanked him quite gravely, and +slipped back to her father.</p> + +<p>'Why don't you ask for a kiss, too, Gage?' Dr. Ross +observed in a joking way.</p> + +<p>But Geraldine had looked quite shocked at the idea.</p> + +<p>'No, thank you, father; I never kiss soldiers,' she replied +discreetly—at which reply there had been a fresh laugh.</p> + +<p>'He may be a soldier, but Mike's Mike, and I wanted to +kiss him,' returned Audrey stoutly. 'Why do you laugh, +daddy?—little girls may kiss anybody.'</p> + +<p>Had he cared for her ever since then, he wondered; and +then he pulled himself up with a sort of start.</p> + +<p>'Michael, why do you not answer me?'</p> + +<p>'Because I was thinking,' he returned quietly. 'Audrey, +do you know you are just as much a child as you were a dozen +years ago? Does it ever occur to you, my dear, that Blake +might not always endorse your opinion? Stop,' as she was +about to speak; 'we all know what a kind-hearted person our +Lady Bountiful is, and how she never thinks of herself at all. +But I have a sort of fellow-feeling with Blake, and I quite understand +his view of the case—that two is company and three are +none.'</p> + +<p>'But, Michael,' and here Audrey blushed again, most +becomingly, 'indeed Cyril is not so ridiculous. I know what +people generally think: that engaged couples like to be left to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">{265}</a></span> +themselves—and I daresay it is pleasant sometimes—but I +don't see why they are to be selfish. Cyril has plenty of +opportunities for talking to me; but when he comes of an +evening there is no need for you to turn hermit.'</p> + +<p>'It is a character I prefer. All old bachelors develop this +sort of tendency to isolate themselves at times from their +fellow-creatures. To be sure, I am naturally gregarious; but, +then, I hate to spoil sport. "Do as you would be done by"—that +is the Burnett motto. So, by your favour, I intend +Blake to have his own way.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, how silly you must think us!' she returned impatiently. +'I wish you would not be so self-opinionative, Michael; for +you are wrong—quite wrong. I should be far happier if you +would make one of us, as you do on other evenings.'</p> + +<p>'And this is the <i>rôle</i> you have selected for me,' replied +Michael mournfully: 'to play gooseberry in my old age, and +get myself hated for my pains. No, my dear child; listen to +the words of wisdom: leave Mentor to enjoy a surreptitious +nap in his arm-chair, and be content with your Blake audience.' +And, in spite of all her coaxing and argument, she could not +induce him to promise that he would mend his ways.</p> + +<p>'You are incorrigible!' she said, as she bade him good-night. +'After all, Cyril gives me my own way far more than +you do.'</p> + +<p>But Michael seemed quite impervious to this reproach: the +smile was still on his face as she left him; but as the door +closed his elbow dropped heavily on the mantelpiece, and a +sombre look came into the keen blue eyes.</p> + +<p>'Shall I have to give it up and go away?' he said to himself. +'Life is not worth living at this price. Oh, my darling! +my innocent darling! why do you not leave me in peace? why +do you tempt me with your sweet looks and words to be false +to my own sense of honour? But I will not yield—I dare not, +for all our sakes. If she will not let me take my own way, I +must just throw it all up and go abroad. God bless her! I +know she means what she says, and Mike is Mike still.' And +then he groaned, and his head dropped on his arms, and the +tide of desolation swept over him. He was still young—in the +prime of life—and yet what good was his life to him?</p> + +<p>Audrey was a healthy-minded young person; she was not +given to introspection. She never took herself to pieces, in a +morbid way, to examine the inner workings of her own mind, +after the manner of some folk, who regulate themselves in a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">{266}</a></span> +bungling fashion, and wind themselves up afresh daily; and +who would even time their own heart-beats if it were possible.</p> + +<p>Audrey was not one of these scrupulous self-critics. She +would have considered it waste of time to be always weighing +herself and her feelings in a nicely-adjusted balance. 'Know +thyself,' said an old thinker; but Audrey Ross would have +altered the saying: 'Look out of yourself; self-forgetfulness is +better than any amount of self-knowledge.'</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, Audrey was a little thoughtful after this conversation +with Michael, and during the next few weeks she was +conscious of feeling vaguely dissatisfied with herself. Now and +then she wondered if she were different from other girls, and if +her absence of moods, and her constant serenity and gaiety, +were not signs of a phlegmatic temperament.</p> + +<p>She was perfectly content with her own position. She had +never imagined before how pleasant it would be to be engaged, +and to have one human being entirely devoted to her. She +was very much attached to her <i>fiancé</i>. He never disappointed +her; on the contrary, she discovered every day some new and +admirable trait that excited her admiration, and as a lover he +was simply perfect. He never made her uneasy by demanding +more than she felt inclined to give; at the same time, it +deepened her sense of security and restfulness to feel how completely +he understood her.</p> + +<p>But now and then she would ask herself if her love for Cyril +were all that it ought to be. She began to compare herself +with others—with Geraldine, for example. She remembered +the months of Geraldine's engagement, and how entirely she +and Percival had been absorbed in each other. Geraldine had +never seemed to have eyes or ears for anyone but her lover, and +in his absence she had hardly seemed like herself at all.</p> + +<p>She had been obliged to pay a few weeks' visit to some +friends in Scotland, and Audrey had accompanied her, and she +remembered how, when their visit was half over, she had +jestingly observed that she would never be engaged to anyone +if she were compelled to lose her own identity. 'For you know +you are not the same person, Gage,' she had said; 'instead of +taking pleasure in our friends' society, you shut yourself up and +write endless letters to Percival; and when we drive out or go +in the boat, you never seem to see the beautiful scenery, and +the mountains and the loch might be in the clouds; and when +anyone asks you a question, you seem to answer it from a +distance, and everyone knows that your thoughts are at Rutherford.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">{267}</a></span> +And though Geraldine had chosen to be offended at this +plain speaking, she had not been able to defend herself. And +then, had not Audrey once found her crying in her room, and +for a long time she had refused to be comforted? Audrey had +been much alarmed, for she thought something must be wrong +at Woodcote; but it was only that Percival had a headache and +seemed so dull without her. 'He says he really cannot bear +the place without me, that he thinks he must go to Edith—and, +and, I want to go home dreadfully,' finished Geraldine +tearfully; 'I don't think engaged people ought to leave each +other, and I know Percival thinks so too.'</p> + +<p>Audrey remembered this little episode when during the +Christmas holidays Cyril was obliged to go up to town for ten +days. She missed him excessively, and wrote him charming +little letters every day; but, nevertheless, the time did not +hang heavily on her hands. But she was glad when the day of +his return arrived, and she went down to the Gray Cottage to +welcome him. Mrs. Blake had suggested it as a little surprise, +and Audrey had agreed at once. Cyril's delight at seeing her +almost deprived him of good manners. He knew his <i>fiancée</i> +objected to any sort of demonstration before people; and he +only just remembered this in time, as Audrey drew back with a +heightened colour.</p> + +<p>But he made up for it afterwards when Mrs. Blake left +them alone, and Audrey was almost overwhelmed by his +vehement expressions of joy at finding himself with her again.</p> + +<p>'It has been the longest ten days I have ever spent in my +life,' he observed; 'I was horribly bored, and as homesick as +possible. I am afraid Norton found me very poor company. +If it had not been for your letters, I could not have borne it. +You shall never send me away again, dearest.'</p> + +<p>'But that is nonsense,' she returned, in her sensible way; +'you cannot stop at Rutherford all the year round, and it will +not do for you to lose your friends. I shall have to pay visits +myself; and I am afraid I shall not always ask your leave if +any very tempting invitations come.'</p> + +<p>'You will not need to do so,' he answered quietly; 'do you +think I should begrudge you any pleasure? I have no wish, +even if I had the right, to curtail your freedom. I am not so +selfish.'</p> + +<p>'You are never selfish,' she returned softly. 'Cyril dear, I +suppose I ought to be pleased that you feel like this; but, do +you know, I am just a little sorry.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">{268}</a></span></p> + +<p>'Sorry!' and indeed he could hardly believe his ears, for was +he not paying her a pretty compliment?</p> + +<p>'Yes; it makes me rather uncomfortable. It seems to me +as though I ought to feel the same, as though there were something +wanting in me. I sometimes fancy I am different from +other girls.'</p> + +<p>'Do not compare yourself with other people,' he returned +quickly, for he could not bear her to look troubled for a moment. +This mood was new to him, and he had never seen a shade on +her bright face before. 'You have a calm temperament—that +is your great charm—you are not subject to the cold and hot +fits of ordinary mortals. It is my own fault that I cannot be +happy without you; but I do not expect you to share my +restlessness.'</p> + +<p>'Ah, that is right,' she replied, very much relieved by this. +'You are always so nice at understanding things, Cyril. Do +you know, I was blaming myself for feeling so comfortable in +your absence. But I was so busy—I had so many things to +interest me; and, then, I had Michael.'</p> + +<p>The young man flushed slightly, but he had learnt to repress +himself: he knew, far better than she did, that his love was +infinitely greater than hers. But what of that? She was a +woman made to be worshipped. It never troubled him when +she talked of Michael—Cyril's nature was too noble for jealousy—but +just for the moment her frankness jarred on him.</p> + +<p>'I think I was nearly as happy as usual,' she went on, +determined to tell the truth; 'and yet, by your own account, +you were perfectly miserable.'</p> + +<p>'But that was my own fault,' he returned lightly. 'Men are +unreasonable creatures; they are not patient like women. It is +true that I have no life apart from you now, and that I always +want to be near you; but I do not expect you to feel the same.'</p> + +<p>Audrey looked at him thoughtfully; he gave her so much, +and yet he seemed to demand so little.</p> + +<p>'You are very good to me, Cyril,' she said, in a low voice. +'I never thought you would understand me so thoroughly. +You leave me so free, and you make me so happy. I wonder +where you have learnt to be so wise.'</p> + +<p>'My love for you has taught me many things,' he answered. +'Do I really make you happy, sweetheart?'</p> + +<p>But the look in her eyes was sufficient answer. This was +his reward—to see her perfect content and trust in him, and to +bask in her sweet looks and smiles.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">{269}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX</h2> + +<h3>TWO FAMILY EVENTS</h3> + +<table summary="quotation"> +<tr><td> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse">'A solemn thing it is to me</div> +<div class="verse">To look upon a babe that sleeps,</div> +<div class="verse">Wearing in its spirit deeps</div> +<div class="verse">The undeveloped mystery</div> +<div class="verse">Of our Adam's taint and woe;</div> +<div class="verse">Which, when they developed be,</div> +<div class="verse">Will not let it slumber so.'</div> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<div class="sign"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Browning.</span></div> +</div> +</td></tr> +</table> + + +<p>One morning, as the Ross family were sitting at breakfast, +Audrey noticed that Michael seemed very much absorbed by a +letter he was reading. He laid it down presently, but made +no remark, only he seemed a little grave and absent during the +remainder of the meal.</p> + +<p>Just as they were rising from table, she heard him ask her +father in rather a low tone if he would come into the study for +a moment, as he wanted a few words with him; and as they +went out together he mentioned the word dogcart—could he +have it in time to catch the 11.15 train?</p> + +<p>Audrey felt a sudden quickening of curiosity. Michael's +manner was so peculiar that she was sure something must have +happened. She wondered what this sudden summons to town +meant. It was a bitterly cold day, and a light fall of snow +had whitened the ground. A three miles' drive in a dogcart +was not a very agreeable proceeding, only Michael seemed so +strangely callous to weather now. Surely her father would +insist on his having a fly from the town? He was always so +careful of Michael's comfort.</p> + +<p>Audrey could settle to nothing; it was impossible to practise +or answer notes until she had had a word with Michael. So +she took up the paper and pretended to read it, until the study +door opened and she heard her cousin go up to his room. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">{270}</a></span> +next moment Dr. Ross walked in, looking as though he were +very much pleased.</p> + +<p>'Mike's a droll fellow,' he said, addressing his wife, who +was looking over the tradesmen's books. 'He has just told +me, with a very long face, that his uncle, Mr. Carlisle, is dead, +and that he has left him all his money; and he is as lugubrious +over it as though he had been made bankrupt.'</p> + +<p>Audrey uttered an exclamation, but Mrs. Ross said, in her +quiet way:</p> + +<p>'Perhaps he is grieved at the loss of his uncle, John. It +would hardly be becoming to rejoice openly at the death of a +relative, however rich he might be.'</p> + +<p>'I am afraid many men would if they were in Mike's shoes. +Why, they say Mr. Carlisle was worth six or seven thousand a +year—most of it solid capital, and locked up in safe securities +and investments. He was always a canny Scotsman, and liked +to take care of his money. And here is Mike pretending not +to care a jot about it, and looking as though he had the cares +of all the world on his shoulders.'</p> + +<p>'I think he shows very good feeling. Michael was never +mercenary, and the loss of his only near relative would make +him dull for a time.'</p> + +<p>'My dear Emmie, that is very pretty sentiment; but, +unfortunately, it does not hold good in this case. Mike has +never seen his uncle since he was a lad of eighteen—that is +about seventeen years ago—and he has often owned to me that +Mr. Carlisle was very close in his money dealings. "It is a +pity there is no sympathy between us," he said once. "Uncle +Andrew does not seem to have a thought beyond his money-grubbing. +He is a decent sort of old fellow, I believe, and I +daresay he will end by marrying some pretty girl or other, +and then he will be properly miserable all the rest of his life." +That does not sound much like an affectionate nephew.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, he never cared for him!' interposed Audrey; 'Michael +and I have often talked about him. It seems so strange that +he should leave him his money, when he took so little notice of +him all these years.'</p> + +<p>'Well, he was not a demonstrative man,' returned her father; +'but in his way he seemed both fond and proud of Mike. I +remember when he got the Victoria Cross, and was lying +between life and death, poor lad! that Mr. Carlisle wrote very +kindly and enclosed a cheque for two hundred pounds. I had +to answer the letter for him, and I remember when he got<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">{271}</a></span> +better, and first came down here, that I recommended him to +keep up a friendly intercourse with his uncle, though I do not +believe he took my advice. Mike was always such a lazy +beggar!'</p> + +<p>'And he has to go up to town to see his lawyer, I suppose?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, and he thinks he may be away a week or two; but, +there, I must not stand here talking. I have told Reynolds to +order a fly from the town; but he need not start for three-quarters +of an hour.'</p> + +<p>Audrey waited impatiently for another twenty minutes +before Michael made his appearance. He looked very cold, +and at once proceeded to wheel an easy-chair in front of the +fire.</p> + +<p>'I may as well get warm,' he observed. 'I expect we shall +have a regular snowstorm before night. Look at that leaden +sky! Well, what now?'</p> + +<p>For Audrey was kneeling on the rug, and she was looking +at him with her brightest and most bewitching smile.</p> + +<p>'Michael, I am so glad, so very, very glad. I think I am +as pleased as though the fortune were mine.'</p> + +<p>'Do you think that is a decent remark to make to a fellow +who has just lost his uncle? Really, Audrey, you may well +look ashamed of yourself; I quite blush for you. "Avarice, +thy name is woman!"'</p> + +<p>'Now, Michael, don't be absurd. I am not a bit ashamed +of myself. Of course, I am sorry the poor man is dead; but +as I never saw him, I cannot be excessively grieved; but I +am delighted that he has done the right thing and left you all +his money, and I am sure in your heart that you are glad, too.'</p> + +<p>'It does not strike you that I may regard it in the light of +an unmitigated bore. What does an old bachelor like myself +want with this heap of money? I should like to know how I +am to spend six or seven thousand a year—why, the very idea +is oppressive!'</p> + +<p>'You are very good at pretence, Michael; as though I +am not clever enough to see through that flimsy attempt at +philosophy! You think it would be <i>infra dig.</i> to look too +delighted.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, you think I am going in for a stoic?' he returned +blandly.</p> + +<p>'Yes, but you are not really one; you were never cut out +for a poor man, Michael; the <i>rôle</i> did not suit you at all. It +is a pain and a grief to you to travel second class, and it is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">{272}</a></span> +only the best of everything that is good enough for you; and +you like to put up at first-class hotels, and to have all the +waiters and railway officials crowding round you. Even when +we were in Scotland the gillie took you for some titled aristocrat, +you were so lavish with your money. It is a way you have, +Michael, to open your purse for everyone. No wonder the +poor widow living down by the fir-plantation called you the +noble English gentleman.'</p> + +<p>'Why, what nonsense you talk!' he replied.</p> + +<p>But all the same it pleased him to think that she had +remembered these things. Oh, those happy days that would +never come back!</p> + +<p>'And now you will be able to gratify all your tastes. You +have always been so fond of old oak, and you can have a +beautiful house, and furnish it just as you like; and you can +buy pictures, and old china, and books. Why, you can have +quite a famous library, and if you want our assistance, Gage +and I will be proud to help you; and if you will only consult +us, it will be the loveliest house you ever saw.'</p> + +<p>'What do I want with a house?' he returned a little +morosely. 'I should think rooms would be far better for a +bachelor.'</p> + +<p>'Ah, but you need not be a bachelor any longer,' she +replied gaily. 'You have always told us that you could not +afford to marry; but now you can have the house and wife +too.' But here she stopped for a moment, for somehow the +words sounded oddly as she said them. Michael's wife! What +a curious idea! And would she be quite willing for Michael to +marry? His wife must be very nice—nicer than most girls, +she said to herself; and here she looked at him a little wistfully; +but Michael did not make any response. He had the poker in +his hand, and when she left off speaking he broke up a huge +coal into a dozen glowing splinters.</p> + +<p>'And, then, do you remember,' she went on, 'how you used +to long for a mail phaeton, and a pair of bay horses? "When +my ship comes I will drive a pair!" How often you have said +that to me! Will you drive me in the Park sometimes, Michael, +until you have someone else whom you want to take?—for, of +course, when you have a wife——'</p> + +<p>But here he interrupted her with marked impatience:</p> + +<p>'I shall never have a wife. I wish you would not talk such +nonsense, Audrey;' and there was such bitterness in his tone +that she looked quite frightened. But the next moment he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">{273}</a></span> +spoke more gently. 'Do you not see, dear, that I am a little +upset about all this money coming to me? It is a great +responsibility, as well as a pleasure.'</p> + +<p>Then as she looked a little downcast at his rebuke, he put +his hand lightly upon her brown hair and turned her face +towards him.</p> + +<p>'Why, there are tears in your eyes, you foolish child!' he +said quickly. 'Did you really mind what I said, my dear +Audrey?' in a more agitated tone—for, to his surprise, a large +bright tear fell on his other hand.</p> + +<p>'Oh, it was not that!' she returned, in rather a choked +voice. 'Please don't look so concerned, Michael. You know I +never mind your scolding me.'</p> + +<p>'Then what is it?' he asked anxiously. 'What can have +troubled you? Was it my want of sympathy with your little +plans? The old oak, and the carvings and the books, and even +the mail phaeton, may come by and by, when I have had time +to realise my position as Crœsus. Did my apathy vex you, +Audrey?'</p> + +<p>'No; for of course I understood you, and I liked you all the +better for not caring about things just now. It was only—you +will think me very foolish, Michael'—and here she did look +ashamed of herself—'but I felt, somehow, as though all this +money would separate us. You will not go on living at +Woodcote, and you will have a home of your own and other +interests; and perhaps—don't be vexed—but if ever you do +marry, I hope—I hope—your wife will be good to me.'</p> + +<p>'I think I can promise you that,' he returned quietly. +'Thank you, dear, for telling me the truth.'</p> + +<p>'Yes; but, Michael, are you not shocked at my selfishness?'</p> + +<p>'Not in the least. I understand you far better than you +understand yourself;' and here he looked at her rather strangely +as he rose.</p> + +<p>'Must you go now?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, it is quite time; I can hear wheels coming up the +terrace.' And then he took her hands, and his old smile was +on his face. 'Don't have any more mistaken fancies, Audrey; +all the gold of the Indies would not separate us. If I furnish +my house, I will promise you that Gage and you shall ransack +Wardour Street with me; and when you are married, my dear, +you shall choose what I shall give you;' and as he said this he +stooped over her, for she was still kneeling before the fire, and +kissed her very gently just above her eyes. It was done so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">{274}</a></span> +quietly, almost solemnly, that she was not even startled. 'I +don't suppose Blake would object to that from Cousin Michael,' +he said gravely. 'Good-bye for a few days;' and then he was +gone.</p> + +<p>'I am glad he did that,' thought Audrey; 'he has never +done it before. As though Cyril would mind! I was so afraid +I had really vexed him with all my foolish talking. But he +looked so sad, so unlike himself, that I wanted to rouse him. I +will not tease him any more about a possible wife; it seems to +hurt him somehow—and yet why should he be different from +other men? If he does not go on living here with father and +mother, he will want some one to take care of him.' And here +she fell into a brown study, and the work she had taken up lay +in her lap. After all, it was she who was leaving him—when +she was Cyril's wife, how could she look after Michael?</p> + +<p>Audrey could think of nothing else for the remainder of the +day. She told Cyril about her cousin's good fortune when he +took her out for a walk that afternoon. Neither of them +minded the hard roads and gray wintry sky; when a few snowflakes +pelted them they only walked on faster.</p> + +<p>Cyril showed a proper interest in the news.</p> + +<p>'I am delighted to hear it,' he said heartily. 'Captain Burnett +is one of the best fellows I know, and he deserves all he +has got.'</p> + +<p>And then, as it was growing dark, and they could hardly +see each other's face, he coaxed her to go back with him to the +Gray Cottage to tell Kester the wonderful news. Now, it so +happened that Mrs. Blake and Mollie had gone to a neighbour's, +and were not expected back for an hour; but Cyril begged her +to stay and make tea for them: and a very cosy hour they +spent, sitting round the fire and making all kinds of possible +and impossible plans for their hero.</p> + +<p>But the next day Audrey's thoughts were diverted into a +different channel, for Geraldine's boy was born, and great was +the family rejoicing. Dr. Ross himself telegraphed to Michael. +Audrey never liked her brother-in-law so well as on the morning +when he came down to Woodcote to receive their congratulations.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ross was at Hillside, and only Audrey and her father +were sitting at breakfast. Mr. Harcourt looked pale and +fagged, but there was marvellous content in his whole mien. +The slight pomposity that had always jarred on Audrey had +wholly vanished, and he wrung her hand with a warmth of +feeling that did him credit.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">{275}</a></span></p> + +<p>Once, indeed, she could hardly forbear a smile, when he said, +with a touch of his old solemnity, 'Nurse says that he is the finest +child that she has seen for a long time—and Mrs. Ross perfectly +agrees with her;' but she commanded herself with difficulty.</p> + +<p>'I wonder if he is like you or Gage, Percival?'</p> + +<p>'It is impossible to say at present—one cannot get to see +his eyes, and he is a little red. Mrs. Lockhart says they are +all red at first. But he is astonishingly heavy—in fact, he is as +fine a boy as you could see anywhere.'</p> + +<p>Audrey went on with her breakfast. It was so inexpressibly +droll to see Percival in the character of the proud father, but +Dr. Ross seemed perfectly to understand his son-in-law. Audrey's +pleasure was a little damped when she found that she must not +see Geraldine. She went about with her head in the air, calling +herself an aggrieved aunt; and she pretended to be jealous of +her mother, who had taken up her residence at Hillside during +the first week.</p> + +<p>But when the day came for Audrey to be admitted to that +quiet room, and she saw Geraldine looking lovelier than ever in +her weakness, with a dark, downy head nestled against her arm, +a great rush of tenderness filled her heart, and she felt as though +she had never loved her sister so dearly.</p> + +<p>'Will you take him, Aunt Audrey?' and Geraldine smiled +at her.</p> + +<p>'No, no! do not move him—let me see mother and son +together for a moment. Oh, you two darlings, how comfortable +you look!' but Audrey's tone was a trifle husky, and then she +gave a little laugh: 'Actually, boy is a week old to-day, and +this is the first time I have been allowed to see my nephew.'</p> + +<p>'It did seem hard,' returned Geraldine, taking her hand; +'but mother and nurse were such tyrants—and Percival was +just as bad; we were not allowed to have a will of our own, +were we, baby? It was such nonsense keeping my own sister +from me, as I told them.'</p> + +<p>'Percival is very pleased with his boy, Gage;' and then a +soft, satisfied look came into the young mother's eyes.</p> + +<p>'I think it is more to him than to most men,' she whispered. +'He is not young, and he did so long for a son. Do you know, +mother tells me that he nearly cried when she put baby into +his arms—at least, there were tears in his eyes, and he could +scarcely speak when he saw me first. Father loves his little +boy already,' she continued, addressing the unconscious infant, +and after that Audrey did consent to take her nephew.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">{276}</a></span></p> + +<p>'What do you mean to call him, Gage?'</p> + +<p>'Mother and I would have liked him to be called John, +after father; but Percival wishes him so much to have his own +father's name, Leonard; and of course he ought to have his +way. You must be my boy's godmother, Audrey—I will have +no one else; and Michael must be one godfather—Percival told +me this morning that Mr. Bryce must be the other.'</p> + +<p>'I am glad you thought of Michael,' responded Audrey +rather dreamily: baby had got one of her fingers grasped in +his tiny fists, and was holding it tightly; and then nurse +came forward and suggested that Mrs. Harcourt had talked +enough: and, though Audrey grumbled a little, she was +obliged to obey.</p> + +<p>Audrey took advantage of the first fine afternoon to walk +over to Brail. It was more than three miles by the road, but +she was a famous walker. The lanes were still impassable on +account of the thaw; February had set in with unusual mildness: +the snow had melted, the little lake at Woodcote was no +longer a sheet of blue ice, and Eiderdown and Snowflake were +dabbling joyously with their yellow bills in the water and their +soft plumes tremulous with excitement.</p> + +<p>Audrey had set out early, and Cyril had promised to meet +her half-way on her return; the days were lengthening, but he +was sure the dusk would overtake her long before she got +home.</p> + +<p>Audrey was inclined to dispute this point: she liked to be +independent, and to regulate her own movements. But Cyril +was not to be coerced.</p> + +<p>'I shall meet you, probably by the windmill,' he observed +quietly. 'If you are not inclined for my companionship, I will +promise to keep on the other side of the road.'</p> + +<p>And of course, after this remark, Audrey was obliged to give +in; and in her heart she knew she should be glad of his +company.</p> + +<p>She had not seen Mr. O'Brien for some weeks. During the +winter her visits to Vineyard Cottage were always few and far +between. Michael had driven her over a few days before +Christmas, but she had not been there since. She had heard +that Mrs. Baxter had been ailing for some weeks, and her +conscience pricked her that she had not made an effort to see +her. She would have plenty of news to tell them, she thought: +there was Michael's fortune, and Gage's baby. Last time she +had told them of her engagement, and had promised to bring<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">{277}</a></span> +Cyril with her one afternoon. She had tried to arrange this +more than once, but Cyril had proposed that they should wait +for the spring.</p> + +<p>Audrey enjoyed her walk, and it was still early in the afternoon +when she unlatched the little gate and walked up the +narrow path to the cottage. As she passed the window she +could see the ruddy gleams of firelight, and the broad back of +Mr. O'Brien as he sat in his great elbow-chair in front of the +fire.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Baxter opened the door. She had a crimson handkerchief +tied over her hair, and her face looked longer and paler +than ever.</p> + +<p>'Why, it is never you, Miss Ross?' she cried in a subdued +crescendo. 'Whatever will father say when he knows it is +you? There's a deal happened, Miss Ross, and I am in a +shake still when I think of the turn he gave me only the other +night. I heard the knock, and opened the door, as it might be +to you, and when I saw who it was—at least——Why, +father! father! what are you shoving me away for?' For +Mr. O'Brien had come out of the parlour, and had taken +his daughter rather unceremoniously by both shoulders, and +had moved her out of his way.</p> + +<p>'You leave that to me, Priscilla,' he said in rather a peculiar +voice; and here his great hand grasped Audrey's. 'You have +done a good deed, Miss Ross, in coming here this afternoon, for +I am glad and proud to see you;' and then, in a voice he tried +in vain to steady: 'Susan was right—she always was, bless +her!—and Mat has come home!'</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">{278}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX</h2> + +<h3>'I COULD NOT STAND IT ANY LONGER, TOM'</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>'The beautiful souls of the world have an art of saintly alchemy, by +which bitterness is converted into kindness, the gall of human experience +into gentleness, ingratitude into benefits, insults into pardon.'—<span class="smcap">Amiel.</span></p></div> + + +<p>'Mat has come home!'</p> + +<p>Audrey uttered an exclamation of surprise and pleasure as +she heard this unexpected intelligence.</p> + +<p>'Is it really true? Oh, Mr. O'Brien, I am so glad—so very +glad! When did he come? Why did you not send for me? +My dear old friend, how happy you must be to get him back +after all these years of watching and waiting!'</p> + +<p>A curiously sad expression crossed Mr. O'Brien's rugged face +as Audrey spoke in her softest and most sympathetic voice.</p> + +<p>'Ay, I am not denying that it is happiness to get the lad +back,' he returned, in a slow, ruminative fashion, as though he +found it difficult to shape his thoughts into words; 'but it is a +mixed sort of happiness, too. Come in and sit down, Miss Ross—Mat +has gone out for a prowl, as he calls it—and I will tell +you how it all happened while Prissy sees to the tea;' and as +Mrs. Baxter withdrew at this very broad hint, Mr. O'Brien +drew up one of the old-fashioned elbow-chairs to the fire, and +then, seating himself, took up his pipe from the hob, and looked +thoughtfully into the empty bowl. 'Things get terribly mixed +in this world,' he continued, 'and pleasures mostly lose their +flavour before one has a chance of enjoying them. I am thinking +that the father of the Prodigal Son did not find it all such +plain sailing after the feast was over, and he had time to look +into things more closely. That elder brother would not be the +pleasantest of companions for many a long day; he would still +have a sort of grudge, like my Prissy here.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, I hope not!'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">{279}</a></span></p> + +<p>'Oh, it is true, though. Human nature is human nature all +the world over. But, there, I am teasing you with all this +rigmarole; only I seem somehow confused, and as though I +could not rightly arrange my thoughts. When did Mat come +home? Well, it was three nights ago, and—would you believe +it, Miss Ross?—it feels more like three weeks.'</p> + +<p>'I wish you had written to me. I would have come to you +before.'</p> + +<p>'Ay, that was what Prissy said; she was always bidding me +take ink and paper. "There's Miss Ross ought to be told, +father"—she was always dinning it into my ears; but somehow +I could not bring myself to write. "Where's the hurry," I +said to Prissy, "when Mat is a fixture here? I would rather +tell Miss Ross myself." And I have had my way, too'—with +a touch of his old humour—'and here we are, talking comfortably +as we have been used to do; and that is better than a +stack of letters.'</p> + +<p>Audrey smiled. Whatever her private opinion might be, +she certainly offered no contradiction. If she had been in his +place, all her world should have heard of her prodigal's return, +and should have been bidden to eat of the fatted calf; she +would have called her friends and neighbours to rejoice with her +over the lost one who had found his way home. Her friend's +reticence secretly alarmed her. Would Vineyard Cottage be a +happier place for its new inmate?</p> + +<p>'Yes, it is better for you and me to be talking over it +quietly,' he went on; 'and I am glad Mat took that restless +turn an hour ago. You see, the place is small, and he has been +used to bush-life; and after he has sat a bit and smoked one or +two pipes, he must just go out and dig in the garden, or take +his mile or two just to stretch his muscles; but he will be back +by the time Prissy has got the tea.'</p> + +<p>'And he came back three nights ago?' observed Audrey.</p> + +<p>'Ay. We were going upstairs, Prissy and I; the girl had +been in bed for an hour. I was just smoking my last pipe +over the kitchen fire, as I like to do, when we heard a knock at +the door, and Prissy says to me:</p> + +<p>'"I expect that is Joshua Ruddock, father, and Jane has +been taken bad, and they cannot get the nurse in time." For +Prissy is a good soul at helping any of her neighbours, and +sometimes one or other of them will send for her to sit up with +a sick wife or child. And then she goes to the door, while I +knock the ashes out of my pipe. But the next moment she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">{280}</a></span> +gave a sort of screech, and I made up my mind that it was that +rascal Joe asking for a night's lodging—not that he would ever +have slept under my roof again. I confess I swore to myself a +bit softly when I heard Prissy fly out like that.</p> + +<p>'"Father," she says again, "here is a vagrant sort of man, +and he says he is Uncle Mat."</p> + +<p>'"And she won't believe me, Tom; so you had better come +and look at me yourself;" and, sure enough, I knew the lad's +voice before I got a sight of his face.</p> + +<p>'I give you my word, Miss Ross,' he continued, somewhat +huskily, 'I hardly know how I got to the door, for my limbs +seemed to have no power.</p> + +<p>'"Do you think I don't know your voice, lad?" I said; +and, though it was dark, I got hold of him and pulled him +into the light.</p> + +<p>'We were both of us white and shaking as we stood there, +but he looked me in the face with a pitiful sort of smile.</p> + +<p>'"I could not stand it any longer, Tom," he said; "I +suppose it was home-sickness; but it would have killed me +in time. I have not got a creature in the world belonging to +me. Will you and Susan take me in?" And then, with a +laugh, though there were tears in his eyes: "I am precious +tired of the husks, old chap."</p> + +<p>'Well, I did not seem to have my answer ready; for I +was fairly choked at the sight of his changed face, and those +poor, pitiable words. But he did not misunderstand me, and +when I took his arm and pushed him into a chair by the fire, +he looked round the place in a dazed kind of way.</p> + +<p>'"Where's Susan?" he asked. "I hope she is not sick, +Tom." And with that he did break me down; for the thought +of how Susan would have welcomed him—not standing aloof +as Prissy was doing—and how she would have heartened us +up, in her cheery way, was too much for me, and I fairly cried +like a child.</p> + +<p>'Well, I knew it was my lad—in spite of his gray hairs—when +he cried, too—just for company. Mat had always a +kind heart and way with him.</p> + +<p>'"I never thought of this, Tom," he said, when we were +a bit better. "All to-day Susan's face has been before me +bonnie and smiling, as I last saw it. Prissy there is not much +like her mother. And so she is in her coffin, poor lass! Well, +you are better off than me, Tom, for you have got Prissy there +to look after you, and I have neither wife nor children."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">{281}</a></span></p> + +<p>'"Do you mean they are gone?" I asked, staring at him; +and he nodded in a grim, sorrowful kind of way.</p> + +<p>'"I have lost them all. There, we won't talk about that +just yet. What is it Susan used to say when the children +died? 'The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away.' +Those are pious words, Tom." And then he looked at me a +bit strangely.</p> + +<p>'Well, it was Prissy who interrupted us, by asking if Mat +wanted food. And then it turned out that he was 'most +starving.</p> + +<p>'"I think I was born to ill-luck, Tom," he went on; "for +some scamp or other robbed me of my little savings as soon as +I reached London, and I had to make shift to pay my fare +down here. It is a long story to tell how I found you out. +I went to the old place first, and they sent me on here. I had +a drop of beer and a crust at the Three Loaves, and old Giles, +the ostler, knew me and told me a long yarn about you and +Prissy."</p> + +<p>'And then we would not let him talk any more. And +when he was fed and warmed Prissy made up a bed for him, +for we saw he was nearly worn out, and there was plenty of +time for hearing all he had to tell us.</p> + +<p>'But I could not help going into his room before I turned +in, for there came over me such a longing to see Mat's face +again—though it was not the old face. And I knew my +bright, handsome lad would never come back. Well, he was +not asleep, for he turned on his pillow when he saw me.</p> + +<p>'"If one could only have one's life again!" he said—and +there was a catch in his voice. "I could not sleep for thinking +of it. I have shamed you, Tom, and I have shamed all that +belonged to me; and many and many a time I have longed to +die and end it all, but something would not let me. I was +always a precious coward. Why, I tried to shoot myself once; +but I could not do it, I bungled so. That was when things +were at the worst; but I never tried again, so don't look so +scared, old chap!"</p> + +<p>'Well, it was terrible to hear him talk like that, of throwing +his life away, and I said a word or two to show what +I thought of it; but he would not listen.</p> + +<p>'"Don't preach, Tom: you were always such a hand at +preaching; but I will tell you something you may care to +hear. It was when I was out in the bush. I had been down +with a sort of fever, and had got precious low. Well, it came<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">{282}</a></span> +over me one day as I was alone in the hut, that, if that sort +of life went on, I should just lose my reason; for the loneliness, +and the thought of the prison life, and all the evil I had done, +and the way I had thrown aside my chances, seemed crowding +in upon my mind, and I felt I must just blow my brains out, +and I knew I should do it this time; and then all at once the +thought came to me: 'Why not go to Tom? Tom and Susan +are good sort; they won't refuse a helping hand to a poor +wretch;' and the very next day I packed up my traps and +started for Melbourne."</p> + +<p>'"My lad," I said, "it was just Providence that put that +thought in your head;" and then I left him, for my heart +was too full to talk, except to my Maker. But I dreamt +that night that Susan came to me, and that we stood together +by Mat's bedside looking down at him while he slept.</p> + +<p>'"He looks old and gray," I heard her say quite distinctly; +"but he will grow young again beside my Tom." And then +she looked at me so gently and sighed: "Be patient with him; +he is very unhappy," and then I woke.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, I hope you told him that dream!'</p> + +<p>'Ay, I did. I told him a power of things about Susan and +myself and Prissy, and he never seemed tired of listening; +but after that first evening he did not open out much of his +own accord. He told us a few things, mostly about his bush-life, +and where he went when he got his ticket-of-leave; but +somehow he seemed to dislike talking about himself, and after +I had questioned him pretty closely, he suddenly said:</p> + +<p>'"Look here, old chap: I don't mean to be rough on you, +but I have grown used to holding my tongue during the last +few years. What is the use of raking up bygones? Do you +suppose I am so proud of my past life that I care to talk about +it? Why can we not start afresh? You know me for what +I am, the good-for-nothing Mat O'Brien. I know I am no +fit companion for you and Prissy; and if you tell me to go, I +will shift my quarters without a reproachful word. Shall I +go, Tom?"</p> + +<p>'"No," I said, almost shouting at him, and snapping my +pipe in two; "you will just stay where you are, lad. Do you +think I will ever suffer you to wander off again?" And then, +as he looked at me very sadly, I opened the big Bible we had +been reading in that morning, and showed him the verse that +was in my thoughts that moment: "The Lord do so to me, +and more also, if aught but death part me and thee."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">{283}</a></span></p> + +<p>'"Do you mean that, Tom?" and his voice was rather +choky.</p> + +<p>'"Ay, I do," was my answer. And then he gripped my +hand without speaking, and went out of the room, and we did +not see him for an hour or two. And that is about all I have +to tell you, Miss Ross.'</p> + +<p>'Thank you, old friend,' returned Audrey gently.</p> + +<p>And she looked reverently into the thoughtful face beside +her. The rugged, homely features were beautified to her. He +was only a small tradesman, yet what nobleman could show +more tender chivalry to the fallen man who had brought disgrace +on his honest name? In her heart Audrey knew there +was no truer gentleman than this simple, kindly Tom O'Brien.</p> + +<p>'There's Mat,' he observed presently; and Audrey roused +herself and looked anxiously at the door.</p> + +<p>She was longing, yet dreading, to see this much-loved +prodigal. Priscilla's description of 'a vagrant sort of man' +had somewhat alarmed her, and she feared to see the furtive +look and slouching gait that so often stamp the man who has +taken long strides on the downward path.</p> + +<p>She was greatly surprised, therefore, when a tall, fine-looking +man, with closely-cropped gray hair and a black moustache, +came quickly into the room. On seeing a young lady he was +about to withdraw; but his brother stopped him.</p> + +<p>'Don't go away, lad. This is Miss Ross, the young lady +who I told you was with Susan when she died.'</p> + +<p>'And I am very glad to welcome you back, Mr. O'Brien,' +observed Audrey cordially, as she held out her hand.</p> + +<p>Mat O'Brien reddened slightly as he took the offered hand +with some reluctance, and then stood aside rather awkwardly. +He only muttered something in reply to his brother's question +of how far he had walked.</p> + +<p>'I think I will go to Priscilla,' he said, with a touch of +sullenness that was mere shyness and discomfort. 'Don't let +me interrupt you and this young lady, Tom.' And before Mr. +O'Brien could utter a remonstrance, he was gone.</p> + +<p>'I am afraid I am in the way,' suggested Audrey. 'Perhaps +your brother does not like to see people. It is growing dark, +so I may as well start at once. Mr. Blake has promised to +meet me, so I shall not have a solitary walk.'</p> + +<p>'Nay, you must not go without your cup of tea,' returned +the old man, rubbing up his hair in a vexed manner; 'I hear +Prissy clattering with the cups. Don't fash your head about<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">{284}</a></span> +the lad; he is a bit shamed of looking honest folk in the face; +but we'll get him over that. Sit you down, and I will fetch +him out of the kitchen.' And without heeding her entreaties +to be allowed to go, Mr. O'Brien hurried her into the next room, +where the usual bountiful meal was already spread, and where +Mrs. Baxter awaited them with an injured expression of face.</p> + +<p>'I think father has gone clean daft over Uncle Mat,' she +observed, as Mr. O'Brien departed on his quest. 'Draw up to +the table, Miss Ross. Father will be back directly; but he +won't touch a mouthful until he sees Uncle Mat in his usual +place; he fashes after him from morning to night, and can +hardly bear him out of his sight. It is "Mat, come here, alongside +of me," or "Try this dish of Prissy's, my lad," until you +would think there was not another person in the house. It is +a bit trying, Miss Ross, I must confess; though I won't fly in +the face of Providence, and say I am not glad that the sinner +has come home. But there, one must have one's trials; and +Heaven knows I have had a plentiful share of thorns and briars +in my time!'</p> + +<p>'I am sorry to hear you speak like this, Mrs. Baxter. I +was hoping that you would rejoice in Mr. O'Brien's happiness. +Think how he has longed for years to see his brother's face +again!'</p> + +<p>Mrs. Baxter shook her head mournfully.</p> + +<p>'Ay, Miss Ross; but the best of us are poor ignorant +creatures, and, maybe, the blessings we long for will turn to a +curse in the end. I doubt whether our little cottage will be +the restful place it was before Uncle Mat came home. He has +gone to a bad school to learn manners; and wild oats and +tares and the husks that the swine did eat are poor crops, after +all, Miss Ross,' finished Priscilla a little vaguely.</p> + +<p>Audrey bent over her plate to conceal a smile; but she was +spared the necessity of answering, as just then the two men +entered.</p> + +<p>It was the first meal that Audrey had failed to enjoy at +Vineyard Cottage; and notwithstanding all her efforts to second +Mr. O'Brien's attempt at cheerfulness, she felt that she failed +most signally. Neither of them could induce Mat O'Brien to +enter into conversation; his gloomy silence or brief monosyllabic +replies compelled even his brother at last to desist from any +such attempt.</p> + +<p>Now and then Audrey stole a furtive glance at him as he sat +moodily looking out into the twilight. The handsome lad was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">{285}</a></span> +still a good-looking man; but the deep-seated melancholy in the +dark eyes oppressed Audrey almost painfully: there was a +hopelessness in their expression that filled her with pity.</p> + +<p>Why had he let that one failure, that sad lapse from honesty, +stamp his old life with shame? Had he not expiated his sin? +Why was he so beaten down and crushed with remorse and +suffering that he had only longed to end an existence that +seemed God-forsaken and utterly useless? And then, half +unconsciously, she noted the one serious defect in his face—the +weak, receding chin; and she guessed that the mouth hidden +under the heavy moustache was weak too.</p> + +<p>'I will not ask you what you think of Mat to-night,' observed +Mr. O'Brien, as he accompanied Audrey to the gate; 'he has +not been used to a lady's company, and he has grown into silent +ways, living so much alone.'</p> + +<p>'He looks terribly unhappy.'</p> + +<p>'Ay, poor chap, he is unhappy enough; he has got a load +on his heart that he is carrying alone. Sometimes it makes my +heart ache, Miss Ross, to see him sitting there, staring into the +fire, and fetching up a sigh now and then. But there, as Susan +says, "The heart knoweth its own bitterness"; but if ever a +man is in trouble, Mat is that man.'</p> + +<p>And Audrey felt that her old friend was right.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">{286}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXI" id="CHAPTER_XXXI"></a>CHAPTER XXXI</h2> + +<h3>'WILL YOU CALL THE GUARD?'</h3> + +<table summary="quotation"> +<tr><td> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse">'Plead guilty at man's bar, and go to judgment straight;</div> +<div class="verse">At God's no other way remains to shun that fate.'</div> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<div class="sign"><span class="smcap">Archbishop Trench.</span></div> +</div> +</td></tr> +</table> + + +<p>Captain Burnett had settled his business, and was returning +again to Rutherford after more than a month's absence. He +would willingly have lingered in town longer. Lonely as his +bachelor quarters were, he felt he was safer in them than in +his cosy rooms under his cousin's roof, where every hour of the +day exposed him to some new trial, and where the part he +played was daily becoming more difficult. In town he could +at least be free; he had no need to mask his wretchedness, or +to pretend that he was happy and at ease. No demands, trying +to meet, were made on his sympathy; no innocently loving +looks claimed a response. At least, the bare walls could tell +no tales, if he sat for long hours brooding over a future that +looked grim and desolate.</p> + +<p>And he was a rich man. Heavens! what mockery! And +yet how his friends would have crowded round him if they had +known it! Comfort—nay, even luxury—was within his power; +he could travel, build, add acre to acre; he could indulge in +philanthropic schemes, ride any hobby. And yet, though he +knew this, the thought of his gold seemed bitter as the apples of +Sodom.</p> + +<p>It had come too late. Ah, that was the sting—his poverty +had been the gulf between him and happiness, and he had not +dared to stretch his hand across it to the woman he loved; +and now, when his opportunity had gone and he had lost her +irrevocably, Fate had showered these golden gifts upon him, as +though to bribe him as one bribes children with some gilded +toy.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">{287}</a></span></p> + +<p>Was it a wonder that, as he sat trying to shape that dreary +future of his, his heart was sore within him, and that now and +again the thought crossed him that it might have been well for +him if his battered body could have been laid to rest with those +other brave fellows in Zululand? And then he remembered how +Kester had once told him that he must be the happiest man +in the world. He had never quite forgotten that boyish outburst.</p> + +<p>'Don't you see the difference?' he could hear him say. 'I +have got this pain to bear, and no good comes of it; it is just +bearing, and nothing else. But you have suffered in saving +other men's lives; it is a kind of ransom. It must be happiness +to have a memory like that!'</p> + +<p>Was he suffering for nothing now? Would any good to +himself or others come from a pain so exquisite, so rife with +torture—a pain so strongly impregnated with fear and doubt +that he scarcely dared own it to himself? Only now and again +those few bitter words would escape his lips:</p> + +<p>'Oh, my darling, what a mistake! Will you ever find it +out before it is too late?' And then, with a groan, he would +answer, as though to himself: 'Never! never!'</p> + +<p>Old habits are strong, and it was certainly absence of mind +that made Captain Burnett take his usual third-class ticket; +and he had seated himself and dismissed his porter before he +bethought himself that the first-class compartment was now +within his means.</p> + +<p>Audrey had told him laughingly that such creature comforts +were dear to him—that he was a man who loved the best of +things, to whom the loaves and fishes of bare maintenance were +not enough without adding to them the fine linen and dainty +appendages of luxury; and he had not contradicted her. But, +all the same, he knew that he would have been willing to live +in poverty until his life's end if he could only have kept her +beside him.</p> + +<p>Happily, the third-class compartment was empty, and he +threw himself back in the farthest corner, and, taking out his +Baedeker, began to plan what he called his summer's campaign—a +tour he was projecting through Holland and Belgium, and +which was to land him finally in the Austrian Tyrol. He +would work his way later to Rome and Florence and Venice, +and he would keep Norway for the following year; and he +would travel about in the desultory, dilettante sort of fashion +that suited him best now. He would probably go to America, +and see Niagara and all the wonders of the New World, that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">{288}</a></span> +was so young and fresh in its immensity. Indeed, he would go +anywhere and everywhere, until his trouble became a thing of +the past, and he had strength to live and work for the good of +his fellow-creatures; but he felt that such work was not possible +to him just yet.</p> + +<p>Michael studied his Baedeker in a steady business-like way. +He had made up his mind that to brood over an irreparable +misfortune was unworthy of any man who acknowledged himself +a Christian—that any such indulgence would weaken his +moral character and make him unfit for his duties in life. The +sorrow was there, but there was no need to be ever staring it +in the face; as far as was possible, he would put it from him, +and do the best for himself and others.</p> + +<p>Michael's stubborn tenacity of purpose brought its own +reward, for he was soon so absorbed in mapping out his route +that he was quite startled at hearing the porters shouting +'Warnborough!' and the next moment the door was flung +open, and a shabbily-dressed man, with the gait and bearing of +a soldier, entered the compartment, and, taking the opposite +corner to Michael, unfolded his paper and began to read.</p> + +<p>Michael glanced at him carelessly. He was rather a good-looking +man, he thought, with his closely-cropped gray hair and +black moustache; but his scrutiny proceeded no further, for +just then he caught sight of a familiar face and figure on the +platform that made him shrink back into his corner, and wish +that he, too, had a newspaper, behind which he could hide himself.</p> + +<p>There was no mistaking that slim, graceful figure and the +little, close black bonnet. There was something about Mrs. +Blake which he would have recognised a quarter of a mile off. +By Jove! she was coming towards his compartment. Her +hands were full of parcels, and she was asking a gray-headed +old gentleman to open the door for her—how handsome and +bright and alert she looked, as she smiled her acknowledgment! +The old gentleman looked back once or twice—even old fogeys +have eyes for a pretty woman—but Mrs. Blake was too busy +arranging her parcels in the rack to notice the impression she +had made.</p> + +<p>If only he had had that newspaper he might have pretended +that he was asleep; but when the parcels were in their place +she would see him. There was nothing for him but to take +the initiative.</p> + +<p>'Let me put that up for you, Mrs. Blake;' and at the +sound of his voice she turned round.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">{289}</a></span></p> + +<p>In a moment he knew that she was not pleased to see him—that +if she had discovered that he was there, nothing would +have induced her to enter the compartment. It was his +extraordinary quickness of intuition that made him know this, +and the sudden shade that crossed her face when he addressed +her. Underneath Mrs. Blake's smooth speeches and charm of +manner he had always been conscious of some indefinable +antagonism to himself; as he had once told Geraldine, there +was no love lost between them. 'In a ladylike way, she +certainly hates me,' he had said.</p> + +<p>'Dear me, Captain Burnett, how you startled me! I +thought there were only strangers in the carriage. Thank you; +that parcel is rather heavy. I have been shopping in Warnborough +and am terribly laden; I hope Cyril will meet me—if +the omnibus be not at the station, I must certainly take a +fly. I had no idea you were coming back until to-morrow. +Kester certainly said to-morrow. How delighted he will be, +dear boy, when I tell him I have seen you!'</p> + +<p>'The christening will be to-morrow, you know, and I have +to stand sponsor to my small cousin.'</p> + +<p>'Ah, to be sure! How stupid of me to forget! and yet +Mollie told me all about it. It is very soon—baby is only a +month old, is he not? But I hear Mrs. Harcourt is not to be +allowed to go to the church.'</p> + +<p>'No; so Audrey tells me.'</p> + +<p>'I think that a pity. When my children were christened I +was always with them. To be sure, both Kester and Mollie +were two months old at least. What is your opinion, Captain +Burnett—you are a strict Churchman, I know—ought not the +mother to be there as a matter of course?'</p> + +<p>Mrs. Blake spoke in a soft voice, with her usual engaging +air of frankness, but Michael's answer was decidedly stiff. Of +all things he hated to be entrapped into a theological argument, +but he would not compromise truth.</p> + +<p>'I think there is one thing even more desirable than the +mother's presence,' he returned quickly, 'and that is that these +little heathens be made Christians as soon as possible; and I +think Harcourt is perfectly right to have his son baptized +without exposing his wife to any risk.'</p> + +<p>'And she is still so delicate, as dear Audrey tells me. She +was up at Hillside last evening, and Cyril fetched her. My +boy is a most devoted lover, Captain Burnett.'</p> + +<p>'Cela va sans dire,' returned Michael lightly—he may be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">{290}</a></span> +forgiven for regarding this speech in the worst possible taste—and +then he stopped, attracted by a singular action on the part +of their fellow-passenger.</p> + +<p>He had put down his paper, and was leaning forward a +little in his seat, and staring intently into Mrs. Blake's face.</p> + +<p>'Good God, it is Olive!' he muttered. 'As I live, it is +Olive herself!' and then he threw out both his hands in a +strange, appealing sort of way, and his face was very pale. +'Olive,' he went on, and there was something strained and +pitiful in his voice, as though pleading with her; 'how am I to +sit and hear you talk about the little chaps and take no notice? +How am I to mind my promise and not speak to my own +wife?'</p> + +<p>Michael gave a violent start, but he had no time to speak, +for Mrs. Blake suddenly clutched his arm with a stifled scream; +she looked so ghastly, so beside herself with terror, that he +could not help pitying her.</p> + +<p>'Captain Burnett,' she gasped, 'will you stop the train? +I will not travel any longer with this madman. I shall die if +I am in this carriage a moment longer. Don't you see he is +mad? Will you call the guard? I—I——' She sank down, +unable to articulate another syllable.</p> + +<p>Captain Burnett hardly knew how to act. They would +reach the station for Rutherford in another quarter of an hour. +He knew the man opposite him was no more mad than he was—there +was no insanity in those deep-set, melancholy eyes, +only intense pain and sadness. The very sound of his voice +brought instant conviction to Michael's mind that he was +speaking the truth. Whatever mystery lay beneath his +words, he and Mrs. Blake were not strangers to each other—her +very terror told him that.</p> + +<p>'Mrs. Blake,' he said, endeavouring to soothe her, 'there is +nothing to fear. Do try to be reasonable. No one could +molest you while you are under my protection. Perhaps this +gentleman,' with a quick glance at the man's agitated face and +shabby coat, 'may have made some mistake. You may +resemble some friend of his.'</p> + +<p>'No fear of that,' interposed the man sullenly, and now +there was an angry gleam in his eyes that alarmed Michael; +'a man can't mistake his own wife, even if he has not seen her +for fifteen or sixteen years. I will take my oath before any +court of justice that that is my lawful wedded wife, Olive +O'Brien.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">{291}</a></span></p> + +<p>Mrs. Blake uttered another faint scream, and covered her +face with her hands. She was shaking as though in an ague fit.</p> + +<p>'I assure you, you must have made some mistake,' replied +Michael civilly; 'this lady's name is Blake: she and her family +are well known to me. If you like, I will give you my card, +if you should wish to satisfy yourself by making further +inquiries; but, as you must see, it is only a case of mistaken +identity.'</p> + +<p>If Michael spoke with the intent of eliciting further facts, +he was not wholly unsuccessful.</p> + +<p>'It is nothing of the kind,' returned the man roughly; +'don't I tell you it is no mistake. I can't help what she calls +herself. If she has taken another husband, I'll have the law +of her and bring her to shame; she has only one husband and +his name is Matthew O'Brien.'</p> + +<p>'Good heavens! do you mean that Thomas O'Brien, of +Vineyard Cottage, is your brother?' And as Michael put +this question he felt the plot was thickening.</p> + +<p>'Yes. Tom, poor old chap! is my brother; but he knows +nought about Olive and the young ones. He thinks they are +dead. I told him I had lost them all. Has she not been +talking about them—Cyril and Kester and my little Mollie!' +And here there were tears in Matthew O'Brien's eyes.</p> + +<p>'Hush!' interposed Michael; 'don't say any more. Don't +you see she has fainted? Will you move away a moment, +that she may not see you? Open the window; make a +thorough draught.'</p> + +<p>Michael was doing all that he could for Mrs. Blake's +comfort. He loosened her bonnet-strings and made his rug +into a pillow, and, taking out his brandy flask, moistened her +white lips. However she had sinned, he felt vaguely, as he +knelt beside her, that hers would be a terrible expiation. +Mat O'Brien stood a little behind, talking half to himself and +half to Michael.</p> + +<p>'Ah, he is a handy chap,' he soliloquised; 'he must have +a wife of his own, I'm thinking. Poor lass! she does look +mortal bad. I have frighted her pretty nearly to death, but +it is her own fault. I never would have hurt a hair of her +head. She is as handsome as ever, and as hard-hearted, too. +I used to tell her she was made of stone—not a bit of love, +except for the children. She is coming to, sir,' he continued +excitedly; 'I was half afraid she was dead, lying so still.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, she is recovering consciousness,' replied Michael quietly;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">{292}</a></span> +'but it is rather a serious fainting fit, and I must ask you to +leave her to me, Mr. O'Brien. There is my card. I shall be +at Rutherford, and will try to see you to-morrow—no, not to-morrow, +there is the christening—but the next day. I will +come over to Vineyard Cottage; there, we are stopping. Please +send a porter to me.' And then Michael turned again to his +patient.</p> + +<p>She had opened her eyes and was looking at him as though +she were dazed. 'Where am I? what has happened? why are +you giving me brandy, Captain Burnett?'</p> + +<p>'You have been ill,' he returned coolly; 'are you subject to +these fainting fits? I want you to try and stand, and then I +will help you to my fly. Porter, will you take those parcels, +please. Now, Mrs. Blake, do you think you can walk?'</p> + +<p>'I will try,' she replied in an exhausted voice, but just at +that moment Mat O'Brien passed. 'Oh, I remember,' she +gasped; 'the madman! It was he who frightened me so, +Captain Burnett,' looking at him with a return of the old terror +in her face and a sort of wildness in her eyes. 'You did not +believe that improbable story? How can I, a widow, have a +living husband?' And she laughed hysterically.</p> + +<p>'Will you permit me to assist you?' was Michael's sole +answer, as he lifted her from the seat; 'can you fasten your +bonnet? I was obliged to give you air.' But as her trembling +hands could not perform the office, he was compelled to do it +himself. 'Now you can come,' he went on in a quiet, authoritative +voice, that was not without its effect on her, and half +leading, half supporting her, he placed her at last safely in the +fly. But as he seated himself beside her, and they drove off, in +the gathering dusk of the March evening, he felt a cold hand +grip his wrist.</p> + +<p>'Oh, Captain Burnett, do say that you did not believe him!'</p> + +<p>Michael was silent.</p> + +<p>'It was too utterly horrible, too improbable altogether!' she +continued with a shudder; 'no man calling himself a gentleman +ought to believe such an accusation against a woman.'</p> + +<p>Still silence.</p> + +<p>'If it should reach my boy's ear, he will be ready to kill him.'</p> + +<p>'Mrs. Blake, will you listen to me a moment, for your +children's sake. I desire to stand your friend.'</p> + +<p>'And not for my sake—not for the sake of a lonely, misjudged +woman?'</p> + +<p>'No,' he returned coldly; 'I will confess the truth: it is the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">{293}</a></span> +best. In our hearts we are not friends, you and I. From the +first I have mistrusted you. I have always felt there was +something I could not understand. Friends do not have these +feelings; but, all the same, I wish to help you.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, that is kind; and now I do not mind your hard words.'</p> + +<p>'But I must help you in my own way. To-morrow I shall +come to you, and you must tell me the whole truth, and whether +this man Matthew O'Brien be your husband or not.'</p> + +<p>'I tell you—' she began excitedly, but he checked her very +gently.</p> + +<p>'Hush! Do not speak now; you will make yourself ill +again.'</p> + +<p>'Oh yes,' she said, falling back on her seat. 'I have palpitations +still. I must not excite myself.'</p> + +<p>'Just so; and to-morrow you will be calmer and more +collected, and you will have made up your mind that the truth +will be best because——' he paused, as though not certain how +to proceed.</p> + +<p>'Because of what?' she asked sharply; and he could detect +strained anxiety in her tone.</p> + +<p>'Because it will be better for you to tell your story in your +own way, far better than for me to hear it from Mr. O'Brien.'</p> + +<p>'You would go to him?' and there was unmistakable +alarm in her voice.</p> + +<p>'Most certainly I would go to him. This is a very +important matter to others as well as yourself, Mrs. Blake.'</p> + +<p>'I will kill myself,' she said wildly, 'before I tell any such +story! You have no heart, Captain Burnett; you are treating +me with refined cruelty; you want to bring me to shame because +you hate me, and because——'</p> + +<p>But again he checked her:</p> + +<p>'Do not exhaust yourself with making all these speeches; +you will need all your strength. I will come to you to-morrow +evening, and if you will tell me the truth I will promise to help +you as far as possible. Surely at such a crisis you will not +refuse such help as I may be able to offer you, if only——' he +paused, and there was deep feeling in his voice, 'for your +children's sake.'</p> + +<p>But though he could hear her sob as though in extremity of +anguish, she made him no answer, nor could he induce her to +speak again until they reached the Gray Cottage, where the fly +stopped, and he got out and assisted her to alight. She kept +her face averted from him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">{294}</a></span></p> + +<p>'I will be with you to-morrow,' he repeated, as he touched +her hand.</p> + +<p>But to this there was no audible reply; she only bowed her +head as she passed through the gate he held open for her, and +disappeared from his sight.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">{295}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXII" id="CHAPTER_XXXII"></a>CHAPTER XXXII</h2> + +<h3>'I DID NOT LOVE HIM'</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>'When a man begins to do wrong, he cannot answer for himself how +far he may be carried on. He does not see beforehand; he cannot know +where he will find himself after the sin is committed. One false step +forces him to another.'—<span class="smcap">Newman.</span></p> + +<p>'An Italian proverb, too well known, declares that if you would succeed +you must not be too good.'—<span class="smcap">Emerson.</span></p></div> + + +<p>Audrey found Michael strangely uncommunicative that evening; +he hardly responded to her expressions of pleasure at seeing him +again, and all her questions were answered as briefly as possible. +His manner was as kind as ever; indeed, he spoke to her with +more than his usual gentleness; but during dinner he seemed to +find conversation difficult, and all her little jokes fell flat. She +wanted to know how many pretty things he had bought, and if +he had put down his name for the proof engraving of a certain +picture he had longed to possess.</p> + +<p>'Twenty guineas is nothing to you now, Michael,' she +observed playfully.</p> + +<p>'No, I forgot all about the picture,' he returned, starting +up from his chair; 'but I have brought you a present.'</p> + +<p>And the next moment he put in her hand a little case. +When Audrey opened it, there was a small cross studded with +diamonds of great beauty and lustre, and the whole effect was +so sparkling and dainty that Audrey quite flushed with surprise +and pleasure.</p> + +<p>'Oh, mother, look how beautiful! But, Michael, how dare +you waste your money on me; this must have cost a fortune!' +And then she added a little thoughtfully, 'I am afraid Cyril +will be sorry when he sees this; he is always lamenting that he +cannot give me things.'</p> + +<p>'I chose a bracelet for Geraldine,' he returned carelessly, as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">{296}</a></span> +though buying diamonds were an everyday business with him. +'Would you like to see it?' and he showed her the contents of +the other case. 'I have a small offering for my godson in the +shape of the inevitable mug, and I mean to give this to Leonard's +mamma.'</p> + +<p>'It is very handsome; mother thinks so: don't you, mother? +and Gage is devoted to bracelets; but I like mine ever so much +better; it is the very perfection of a cross, and I shall value it, +ah, so dearly, Michael!' and Audrey held out her hand as she +spoke.</p> + +<p>Michael pressed it silently. It was little wonder, he +thought, that Audrey liked her gift better than Geraldine's; it +had cost at least three times as much; in fact, its value had +been so great that he had written the cheque with some slight +feeling of shame and compunction. 'There is no harm, after +all, and she is so fond of diamonds,' he assured himself, as he +put the little case in his pocket; 'she will not know what it +cost me, and he will never be able to buy ornaments for her—I +may as well give myself this pleasure;' and just for +the moment it did please him to see her delight over the +ornament.</p> + +<p>'It is not so much the diamonds that please me, as Michael's +kindness and generosity,' she said to Cyril the next day. 'He +has bought nothing for himself, and yet he has been in town a +whole month; he only thought of us.'</p> + +<p>And Cyril observed quietly, as he closed the case, that it was +certainly very kind of Captain Burnett; but a close observer +would have said that Michael's generosity had not quite pleased +him.</p> + +<p>'I suppose you will wear this to-night at the Charringtons'?' +he asked presently.</p> + +<p>'Yes; and those lovely flowers you have brought me,' she +added, with one of her charming smiles; and somehow the +cloud passed in a moment from the young man's brow.</p> + +<p>What did it matter, after all, that he could not give her +diamonds? Had he not given himself to her, and did they +not belong to each other for time and for eternity? And as he +thought this he took her in his arms with a loving speech.</p> + +<p>'You are sweet as the very sweetest of my flowers,' he said, +holding her close to him. 'You are the very dearest thing in +the world to me, Audrey; and sometimes, when I think of the +future, I am almost beside myself with happiness.'</p> + +<p>When the little excitement of the diamonds was over,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">{297}</a></span> +Michael relapsed again into gravity, and he was still grave when +he went up to Hillside the next day. A wakeful night's reflection +had brought him no comfort; he felt as though a gulf +were opening before him and those whom he loved, and that +he dared not, for very dread and giddiness, look into it.</p> + +<p>When they returned from church, and were about to sit +down to the sumptuous luncheon, he took Geraldine aside and +presented his offerings. To his surprise, she was quite overcome, +and would have called her husband to share her pleasure; +but he begged her to say nothing just then.</p> + +<p>'Audrey has a present, too, but she took it far more +calmly,' he said, in a rallying tone. But as he spoke he +wondered at his cousin's beauty. Her complexion had always +been very transparent, but now excitement had added a soft +bloom. Was it motherhood, he asked himself, that deepened +the expression of her eyes and lent her that new gentleness? 'I +never saw you look better, Gage,' he said, in quite an admiring +voice; but Geraldine was as unconscious as ever.</p> + +<p>'I am very well,' she returned, smiling, 'only not quite as +strong as usual. It is such a pity that Percival would not +allow me to invite you to dinner, because he says that I ought +to be quiet this evening. He and mother make such a fuss +over me. Percival means to take baby and me for a change +during the Easter holidays. That will be nice, will it not? I +think we shall go to Bournemouth.'</p> + +<p>'Very nice,' he returned absently.</p> + +<p>'I wish Audrey would go too, but I am afraid she will not +leave Cyril; he is not going away this vacation. That is the +worst of a sister being engaged, she is not half so useful.'</p> + +<p>'I think Audrey would go with you if you asked her; she +is very unselfish.'</p> + +<p>'Yes; but she has to think about someone else now, and I +do not wish to be hard on Cyril. He is very nice, and we all +like him.'</p> + +<p>'I am very glad to hear that, Gage.'</p> + +<p>'Yes; we must just make the best of it. Of course, +Percival and I will always consider she is throwing herself +away; but that cannot be helped now. By the bye, Michael, +this is the first time I have seen you since you came into your +fortune. I have never been able to tell you how delighted we +both were to hear of it.'</p> + +<p>'Well, it was a pretty good haul.'</p> + +<p>'Yes; but no one will do more with it. But you must not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">{298}</a></span> +buy any more diamonds;' and then she smiled on him. And +just then Master Leonard made his appearance in his long lace +robe, and, as Geraldine moved to take her boy in her arms, +there was no further conversation between them.</p> + +<p>They left soon after luncheon. Mr. Bryce had to take an early +afternoon train, and Dr. Ross accompanied him to the station. +Audrey drove home with her mother; they expected Michael +to follow them, but he had other business on hand. There +was his interview with Mrs. Blake, and on leaving Hillside he +went straight to the Gray Cottage.</p> + +<p>Mollie met him at the door. She looked disturbed and +anxious.</p> + +<p>'Yes; you are to go up to the drawing-room, Captain +Burnett,' she said, when he asked if Mrs. Blake were at home. +'Mamma is there. I heard her tell Biddy so. Do you know'—puckering +up her face as though she were ready to cry—'mamma +will not speak to any of us—not even to Cyril! She +says she is ill, and that only Biddy understands her. It is so +odd that she is able to see a visitor.'</p> + +<p>'What makes you think she is ill, Mollie?'</p> + +<p>'Oh, because she looked so dreadful when she came home +last night; she could hardly walk upstairs, and Cyril was not +there to help her. He was quite frightened when I told him, +and went to her room at once; but her door was locked, and +she said her head ached so that she could not talk. Biddy was +with her then; we could hear her voice distinctly, and mamma +seemed moaning so.'</p> + +<p>'Has she seen your brother this morning?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, just for a minute; but the room was darkened, and +he could not see her properly. She told him that the pain had +got on the nerves, and that she really could not bear us near +her. But she would not let him send for a doctor, and Biddy +seemed to agree with her.'</p> + +<p>'Perhaps she will be better to-morrow,' he suggested; and +then he left Mollie and went upstairs. 'Poor little girl!' he +said to himself; 'I wonder what she would say if she knew +her father were living!'</p> + +<p>And then he tapped at the drawing-room door. He was +not quite sure whether anyone bade him enter. Mrs. Blake +was sitting in a chair drawn close to the fire; her back was +towards him. She did not move or turn her head as he +walked towards her, and when he put out his hand to her she +took no notice of it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">{299}</a></span></p> + +<p>'You have come,' she said, in a quick, hard voice. And +then she turned away from him and looked into the fire.</p> + +<p>'Yes, I have come,' he replied quietly, as he sat down on +the oak settle that was drawn up near her chair. 'I am sorry +to see you look so ill, Mrs. Blake.'</p> + +<p>He might well say so. She had aged ten years since the +previous night. Her face was quite drawn and haggard—he +had never before noticed that there were threads of gray in her +dark hair—she had always looked so marvellously young; but +now he could see the lines and the crows'-feet; and as his +sharp eyes detected all this he felt very sorry for her.</p> + +<p>'Ill; of course I'm ill,' she answered irritably. 'All +night long I have been wishing I were dead. I said yesterday +that I would rather kill myself than tell you my story; but to-day +I have thought better of it.'</p> + +<p>'I am glad of that.'</p> + +<p>'Of course I am not a fool, and I know I am in your +power—yours and that man's.' And here she shivered.</p> + +<p>'Will you tell me this one thing first? Is he—is Matthew +O'Brien your husband?'</p> + +<p>'Yes; I suppose so. I was certainly married to him +once.'</p> + +<p>'Then, why, in the name of heaven, Mrs. Blake, do you +allow people to consider you a widow?'</p> + +<p>'Because I am a widow,' she returned harshly. 'Because I +have unmarried myself and given up my husband. Because I +refused to have anything more to do with him—he brought me +disgrace, and I hated him for it.'</p> + +<p>'But, pardon me, it is not possible—no woman can unmarry +herself in this fashion—unless you mean——'</p> + +<p>And here he stopped, feeling it impossible to put any such +question to her. But what on earth could she mean?</p> + +<p>'No, I have not divorced him. I suppose, in one sense, +he may still be regarded as my husband; but for fourteen +years he has been dead to me, and I have called myself a +widow.'</p> + +<p>'But you must have known it was wrong,' he returned, a +little bewildered by these extraordinary statements. If she +had not looked so wan and haggard, he would have accused her +of talking wildly.</p> + +<p>'No, Captain Burnett; I do not own it was wrong. +Under some circumstances a woman is bound to defend herself +and her children—a tigress will brave a loaded gun if her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">{300}</a></span> +young are starving. If it were to come over again, I would +do the same. But I will acknowledge to you that I did not +love my husband.'</p> + +<p>'No; that is evident.'</p> + +<p>'I never loved him, though I was foolish enough to marry +him. I suppose I cared for him in a sort of way. He was +handsome, and had soft, pleasant ways with him; and I was +young and giddy, and ready for any excitement. But I had +not been his wife three months before I would have given +worlds to have undone my marriage.'</p> + +<p>'Was he a bad husband to you?'</p> + +<p>'No. Mat was always too soft for unkindness; but he was +not the man for me. Besides, I had married him out of +pique—there was someone I liked much better. You see, I +am telling you all quite frankly. I am in your power, as I +said before. If I refused to speak, you would just go to Mat, +and he would tell you everything.'</p> + +<p>'I am very much relieved to find you so reasonable, Mrs. +Blake. It is certainly wiser and better to tell me yourself. +You have my promise that, as far as possible, I will give you +my help; but at present I do not know how this may be.'</p> + +<p>'Yes; I will tell you my story,' she answered. But there +was a bitterness of antagonism in her tone as she said this. +'I have always been afraid of you, Captain Burnett; I felt you +disliked and mistrusted me, and I have never been easy with +you. If it were not for Kester, and your kindness to him, I +should be horribly afraid of you. But for Kester's sake you +would not be hard on his mother.'</p> + +<p>'I would not be hard on any woman,' he answered quietly. +'It is true I have mistrusted you. I told you so yesterday. +But if you will confide in me, you shall not repent your confidence.'</p> + +<p>'You mean you will not be my enemy.'</p> + +<p>'I am no woman's enemy,' he said a little proudly. 'I wish +someone else had been in my place yesterday; you can understand +it is not a pleasant business to ask these questions of a +lady; but there are many interests involved, and I am like a +son to Dr. Ross. I am bound to look into this matter more +closely for his sake, and——' he paused, and, if possible, Mrs. +Blake turned a little pale.</p> + +<p>'Let me tell you quickly,' she said. 'Perhaps, after all, +you will not blame me, and you will help me to keep it from +Cyril.' And here she looked at him imploringly, and he could<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">{301}</a></span> +see the muscles of her face quivering. 'No, I never loved Mat. +I felt it was a condescension on my part to marry him. My +people were well connected. One of my uncles was a dean, +and another was a barrister. My father was a clergyman.'</p> + +<p>'What was his name?'</p> + +<p>'Stephen Carrick. He was Vicar of Bardley.'</p> + +<p>'I have heard of Dean Carrick; he wrote some book or +other, and came into some notoriety before his death. Is it +possible that you are his niece?'</p> + +<p>'Yes. I was very proud of him, and of my other uncle; +but they would have nothing to do with me after my marriage. +We were living in Ireland then, and when Mat brought me to +London I seemed to have cut myself adrift from all my people. +My father died not long afterwards, and my mother followed +him, and my two brothers were at sea. I saw the name of +Carrick in the papers one day—James Carrick—he was in the +navy; so it must have been Jem. Well, he is dead, and, as +far as I know, Charlie may be dead too.'</p> + +<p>She spoke with a degree of hardness that astonished him, +but he would not interrupt her by a question. He saw that, +for some reason of her own, she was willing to tell her story.</p> + +<p>'I soon found out my mistake when Mat brought me to +London. From the first we were unfortunate; we had neither +of us any experience. Our first landlady cheated us, and our +lodgings were far too expensive for our means—my money had +not then come to me. At my mother's death I was more +independent.</p> + +<p>'I might have grown fonder of Mat but for one thing. +Very shortly after our marriage—indeed, before the honeymoon +was over—I discovered that he had already stooped to deceit. +He had always led me to imagine that his people were well-to-do, +and that his parentage was as respectable as mine; indeed, +I understood that his only brother was a merchant, with considerable +means at his disposal. I do not say Mat told me all +this in words, but he had a way with him of implying things.</p> + +<p>'I was very proud—ridiculously proud, if you will—and I +had a horror of trade. You may judge, then, the shock it was +to me when I found out by the merest accident—from reading +a fragment of a letter—that this brother was a corn-chandler +in a small retail way.</p> + +<p>'We had our first quarrel then. Mat was very cowed and +miserable when he saw how I took it; he wanted to coax me +into forgiving his deceit.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">{302}</a></span></p> + +<p>'"I knew what a proud little creature you were, Olive," he +said, trying to extenuate his shabby conduct, "and that there +was no chance of your listening to me if you found out Tom +was a tradesman. What does it matter about the shop? Tom +is as good a chap as ever breathed, and Susan is the best-hearted +woman in the world." But I would not be conciliated.</p> + +<p>'I would not go near his people, and when he mentioned +their names I always turned a deaf ear. It is a bad thing when +a woman learns to despise her husband; but from that day I +took Mat's true measure, and my heart seemed to harden against +him. Perhaps I did not go the right way to improve him or +keep him straight, but I soon found out that I dared not rely +on him.</p> + +<p>'I think I should have left him before the year was out, +only my baby was born and took all my thoughts; and Mat +was so good to me, that for very shame I dare not hint at such +a thing. But we were not happy. His very fondness made +things worse, for he was always reproaching me for my coldness.</p> + +<p>'"You are the worst wife that a man could have," he would +say to me. "You would not care if I were brought home +dead any day, and yet if the boy's finger aches you want to +send for the doctor. If I go to the bad, it will be your own +fault, because you never have a kind look or word for me."</p> + +<p>'But he might as well have spoken to the wind. There +was no love for Mat in my heart, and I worshipped my boy.'</p> + +<p>'You are speaking now of your eldest son?'</p> + +<p>'Yes; of Cyril. He was my first-born, and I doted on him. +I had two other children before Kester came; but, happily, +they died—I say happily, for I had hard work to make ends +meet with three children. I was so wrapped up in my boy that +I neglected Mat more and more; and when he took to going +out of an evening I made no complaints. We were getting on +better then, and I seldom quarrelled with him, unless he refused +to give me money for the children. Perhaps he was afraid to +cross me, for the money was generally forthcoming when I +asked for it; but I never took the trouble to find out how he +procured it. And he was only too pleased to find me good-tempered +and ready to talk to him, or to bring Cyril to play +with him; for he was fond of the boy, too. Well, things +went on tolerably smoothly until Mollie was born; but she was +only a few months old when the crash came.'</p> + +<p>She stopped, and an angry darkness came over her face.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">{303}</a></span></p> + +<p>'You need not tell me,' returned Michael, anxious to spare +her as much as possible. 'I am aware of the forgery for +which your husband incurred penal servitude for so many +years.'</p> + +<p>'You know that!' she exclaimed, with a terrified stare. +'Who could have told you? Oh, I forgot Mat's brother at +Brail! Why did I never guess that Audrey's old friend she so +often mentioned was this Tom O'Brien? But there are other +O'Briens—there was one at Richmond when we lived there—and +I thought he was still in his shop.'</p> + +<p>'We heard all the leading facts from him; he told Audrey +everything.'</p> + +<p>'Then you shall hear my part now,' she returned, with +flashing eyes. 'What do you suppose were my feelings when +I heard the news that Mat was in prison, and that my boy's +father was a convicted felon? What do you imagine were +my thoughts when I sat in my lodgings, with my children +round me, knowing that this heritage of shame was on +them?'</p> + +<p>'It was very bad for you,' he whispered softly, for her +tragical aspect impressed him with a sense of grandeur. She +was not good: by her own account she had been an unloving +wife; but in her way she had been strong—only her strength +had been for evil.</p> + +<p>'Yes, it was bad. I think for days I was almost crazed by +my misfortunes; and then Mat sent for me. He was penitent, +and wanted my forgiveness, so they told me.'</p> + +<p>'And you went?'</p> + +<p>'Of course I went. I had a word to say to him that needed +an answer, and I was thankful for the opportunity to speak it. +I dressed myself at once, and went to the prison. Cyril cried +to come with me, and slapped me with his little hands when I +refused to take him; but I only smothered him with kisses. I +remember how he struggled to get free, and how indignant he +was. "I don't love you one bit to-day, mamma! you are not +my pretty mamma at all." But I only laughed at his childish +pet—my bright, beautiful boy!—I can see him now.</p> + +<p>'Mat looked utterly miserable; but his wretchedness did +not seem to touch me. The sin was his, and he must expiate +it; it was I and my children who were the innocent sufferers. +He began cursing himself for his mad folly, as he called it, and +begged me over and over again to forgive him. I listened to +him for a few minutes, and then I looked at him very steadily.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">{304}</a></span></p> + +<p>'"I will forgive you, Mat, and not say a hard word to you, +if you will promise me one thing."</p> + +<p>'"And what is that?" he asked, seeming as though he +dreaded my answer.</p> + +<p>'"That you will never try to see me or my children +again."'</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">{305}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXIII</h2> + +<h3>'SHALL YOU TELL HIM TO-NIGHT?'</h3> + +<table summary="quotation"> +<tr><td> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse">'Wouldst thou do harm, and still unharmed thyself abide?</div> +<div class="verse">None struck another yet, except through his own side.</div> +<div class="sep">******</div> +<div class="verse">From our ill-ordered hearts we oft are fain to roam,</div> +<div class="verse">As men go forth who find unquietness at home.'</div> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<div class="sign"><span class="smcap">Trench.</span></div> +</div> +</td></tr> +</table> + + +<p>Michael raised his eyes and looked attentively at the woman +before him; but she did not seem to notice him—she was too +much absorbed in her miserable recital.</p> + +<p>'I had made up my mind to say this to him from the +moment I heard he was in prison—he should have nothing +more to do with me and the children. It was for their sake I +said it.</p> + +<p>'He shrank back as though I had stabbed him, and then he +began reproaching me in the old way: "I had never loved +him; from the first I had helped to ruin him by my coldness; +he was the most wretched man on earth, for his own wife had +deserted him;" but after a time I stopped him.</p> + +<p>'"It is too late to say all this now, Mat; you are quite +right—I never loved you. I was mad to marry you; we +have never been suited to each other."</p> + +<p>'"But I was fond of you. I was always fond of you, +Olive."</p> + +<p>'But I answered him sternly:</p> + +<p>'"Then prove your affection, Mat, by setting me free. Let +me go my way and you go yours, for as truly as I stand here I +will never live with you again."</p> + +<p>'"But what will you do?" he asked; "oh, Olive, do not +be so cruelly hard! There is Tom; he will take you and the +children, and care for you all."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">{306}</a></span></p> + +<p>'But at the mention of his brother I lost all control over +myself. Oh, I know I said some hard things then—I am not +defending myself—and he begged me at last very piteously not +to excite myself, and he would never mention Tom again; only +he must know what I meant to do with myself and the children +while he was working out his sentence.</p> + +<p>'"Then I will tell you," I replied; "for at least you have +a right to know that, although from this day I will never +acknowledge you as my husband. I will not go near your +beggarly relations; but I have a little money of my own, as +you know, though you have never been able to touch it. I will +manage to keep the children on that."</p> + +<p>'Well, we talked—at least I talked—and at last I got him +to promise that he would never molest me or the children +again. Mat was always weak, and I managed to frighten him. +I threatened to make away with myself and the children +sooner than have this shame brought home to them, not that +I meant it; but I was in one of my passionate moods, when +anything seemed possible.</p> + +<p>'I told him what I meant to do, for I had planned it all in +my head already. I would sell out all my money and change +my investments, so that all clue should be lost; and I would +take another name, and after a time the children should be told +their father was dead. I would give myself out to be a widow, +and in this way no disgrace would ever touch them. Would +you believe it? Mat was so broken and penitent that he began +to think that, after all, this would be best—that it would be +kinder to me and the children to cut himself adrift from us.</p> + +<p>'I saw him again, and he gave me his promise. "You are a +clever woman, Olive," he said; "you will do better for the +youngsters than ever I could have done. I have brought disgrace +on everyone belonging to me. If you would only have +trusted to Tom!—but you will go your own gait. I dare not +cross you; I never have dared, lest evil should come of it; but +I think no woman ever had a colder heart."</p> + +<p>'"You have killed it, Mat," was my answer; and then I +said good-bye to him, and we parted.</p> + +<p>'Well, I took Biddy into my confidence; she was a faithful +creature, and had been devoted to me since my childhood. +She had accompanied me to England on my marriage, and had +been my one comfort before the children were born. Strange +to say, she had always disliked Mat, and if I had only listened +to her, his wooing would have been unsuccessful.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">{307}</a></span></p> + +<p>'I found a lawyer who would do my business, and then I +took a lodging at Richmond and called myself Mrs. Blake, and +for a few years we lived quietly and comfortably.'</p> + +<p>'The investments had prospered, one especially was yielding +a handsome dividend, so I was better off than I expected. I +had got rid of some house property, and I put aside this money +for my boy's education. I need not tell you that he was my +one thought. Sometimes, when I saw him growing so fast, +and looking so noble and handsome, my heart would quite +swell with pride and happiness to think he was my son; and I +forgot Mat and the past wretchedness, and only lived in and +for him. My other children were nothing to me compared to +him.'</p> + +<p>'And you heard nothing of your husband?'</p> + +<p>'I tell you I had no husband; he was dead to me. Do +you think I would allow a man like Mat to blight my boy's +career—a poor creature, weak as water, and never able to keep +straight; a man who could be cowed into giving up his own +wife and children? I would have died a hundred times over +before I would have let Cyril know that his father was a +convict.'</p> + +<p>Michael held his peace, but he shuddered slightly as he +thought of Audrey. 'They will make her give him up,' he said +to himself.</p> + +<p>'Yes, I was happy then,' she went on. 'I always had an +elastic temperament. I did not mind the poverty and shifts +as long as Cyril was well and contented. I used to glory in +giving up one little comfort after another, and stinting myself +that he might have the books he needed when he was at Oxford. +I used to live on his letters, and the day when he came home +was a red-letter day.'</p> + +<p>'And you never trembled at the idea that one day you might +come face to face with your husband?'</p> + +<p>'Oh no; such a thought never crossed my mind. I knew +Mat too well to fear that he would hunt me out and make a +scene. Another man would, in his place, but not Mat: he had +always been afraid of me, and he dared not try it on. It was +accident—mere accident—that made him cross my path yesterday. +But I know I can manage him still, and you—you will +not betray me, Captain Burnett?'</p> + +<p>'I do not understand you,' he returned, almost unable to +believe his ears. Could she really think that he would make +himself a party to her duplicity?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">{308}</a></span></p> + +<p>'I think my meaning is sufficiently clear,' she replied, as +though impatient at his denseness. 'Now you have heard my +story, you cannot blame me; under the circumstances, you must +own that my conduct was perfectly justifiable.'</p> + +<p>'I am not your judge, Mrs. Blake,' he answered quietly; +'but in my opinion nothing could justify such an act of deception. +None of us have any right to say, "Evil, be thou my +good." When you deceived the world and your own children, +by wearing widow's weeds, when all the time you knew you +had a living husband, you were distinctly living a lie.'</p> + +<p>'And I glory in that lie!' she answered passionately.</p> + +<p>'Do not—do not!' he returned with some emotion; 'for it +will bring you bitter sorrow. Do you think the son for whom +you have sacrificed your integrity will thank you for it——' But +before he could finish his sentence a low cry, almost of +agony, stopped him. Ah, he had touched her there.</p> + +<p>'You will kill me,' she gasped, 'if you only hint at such a +thing! Captain Burnett, I will say I am sorry—I will say +anything—if you will only help me to keep this thing from my +boy. Will you go to Mat? Will you ask him, for all our +sakes, to go away? He is not a bad man. When he hears +about Cyril's prospects he will not spoil them by coming here +and making a scene. I will see him if he likes—but I think +it would be better not. Tell him if he wants money he shall +have it: there is a sum I can lay my hands on, and Cyril will +never know.'</p> + +<p>'You want me to bribe your husband to go away?'</p> + +<p>'Yes. You have promised to help me; and this is the only +way.'</p> + +<p>'Pardon me! There are limits to anything—an honest man +cannot soil his hands with any such acts of deception. When +I said I would help you, it was real help I meant—for good, +and not for evil. I will not attempt to bribe your husband; +neither will I stand by and see you blindfold your son.'</p> + +<p>Then she threw herself on her knees before him, with a +faint cry for mercy. But he put her back in her seat, and +then took her hands in his and held them firmly.</p> + +<p>'Hush! you must not do that. I will be as kind to you as +I can. Do you think that my heart is not full of pity for you, +in spite of your wrong-doing? Try to be reasonable and listen +to me. I have only one piece of advice to give you. Tell your +son everything, as you have told me.'</p> + +<p>'Never, never! I would die first.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">{309}</a></span></p> + +<p>'You do not know what you are saying,' he returned soothingly. +'Do you think a son is likely to judge his own mother +harshly? If I can find it in my heart to pity you, will your +own flesh and blood be more hard than a stranger?'</p> + +<p>'Oh, you do not know Cyril!' she replied with a shudder. +'He is so perfectly truthful. I have heard him say once that +nothing can justify a deception. In spite of his goodness, he +can be hard—very hard. When Kester was a little boy, he +once, told a lie to shield Mollie, and Cyril would not speak to +him for days.'</p> + +<p>'I do not say that he will not be shocked at first, and that +you may not have to bear his displeasure. But it will be +better—a hundred times better—for him to hear it from your +own lips.'</p> + +<p>'He will never hear it,' she returned; and now she was weeping +wildly. 'The story will never be told by me. How could +I bear to hear him tell me that I had ruined him—that his +prospects were blasted? Oh, have mercy upon a miserable +woman, Captain Burnett! For the sake of my boy—for +Kester's and Mollie's sake—help me to send Mat away!'</p> + +<p>He made no answer, only looked at her with the same steady +gentleness. That look, so calm, yet so inexorable, left her no +vestige of hope. A rock would have yielded sooner than +Michael Burnett, and she knew it.</p> + +<p>'I was wrong to trust you,' she sobbed. 'You are a hard +man—I always knew that; you will stand by and see us all +ruined, and my boy breaking his heart with shame and misery, +and you will not stretch out your hand to save us.'</p> + +<p>But he let this pass. Her very despair was making her +reckless of her words.</p> + +<p>'Mrs. Blake,' he said quietly, 'will you tell your son that +he has a father living?'</p> + +<p>'No; I will not tell him!'</p> + +<p>Then Michael got up from his chair as though the interview +were at an end. His movement seemed to alarm Mrs. Blake +excessively.</p> + +<p>'You are not going? Do you mean that you are actually +leaving me in this misery? Captain Burnett, I would not +have believed you could be so cruel!'</p> + +<p>'There is no use in my staying. I cannot convince you that +your best hope for the future is to throw yourself on your son's +generosity. I regret that you will not listen to me—you are +giving me a very painful task.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">{310}</a></span></p> + +<p>Then she started up and caught him by the arm.</p> + +<p>'Do you mean that you will tell him?'</p> + +<p>'I suppose so—somebody must do it; but I would rather +cut off my right hand than do it.'</p> + +<p>'Shall you tell him to-night?'</p> + +<p>'No, certainly not to-night.'</p> + +<p>'To-morrow?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, to-morrow or the next day; but I must speak to Mr. +O'Brien and Dr. Ross first.'</p> + +<p>Then she left him without saying another word; but it +went to his heart to see her cowering over the fire in her old +miserable attitude.</p> + +<p>'Mrs. Blake,' he said, following her, 'if you think better of +this, will you write to me? Two or three words will be enough: +"I will tell him myself" just that——' but she made no reply. +'I shall wait in the hope that I may receive such a note; a +few hours' delay will not matter, and perhaps a little consideration +may induce you to be brave. Remember, there is no +wrong-doing except that of heinous and deadly sin that we may +not strive to set right. It needs courage to confess to a +fellow-creature, but love should give you this courage.'</p> + +<p>But still she did not move or speak, and he was forced to +leave her. He found Biddy hovering about the dark passage, +and he guessed at once that she had been a listener. A +moment's consideration induced him to take the old woman by +the shoulder and draw her into an empty room close by.</p> + +<p>She looked somewhat scared at his action. She had a +candle in her hand, and he could see how furtively her wild, +hawk-like eyes glanced at him.</p> + +<p>'Biddy, I know you are your mistress's trusted friend—that +she confides in you.'</p> + +<p>'Ay.'</p> + +<p>'Use every argument in your power, then, to induce her to +tell her son about his father.'</p> + +<p>'I dare not, sir; she would fly into one of her mad passions +and strike me.'</p> + +<p>'Good heavens!'</p> + +<p>'I have work enough with her sometimes; she has always +had her tantrums from a child; but I'm used to them, and I +know how to humour her. She will never tell Mr. Cyril; I +know them both too well for that.'</p> + +<p>'You heard all I said, Biddy. You need not deny it. You +have been listening at the door.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">{311}</a></span></p> + +<p>'It is not me who would deny it,' she returned boldly; but +there was a flush on her withered cheek. 'There is nothing +that my mistress could say that she would wish to keep from +me. I have been with her all her life. As a baby she slept +in my bosom, and I loved her as my own child. Ah, it was an +ill day for Miss Olive when she took up with that good-for-nothing +Matthew O'Brien; bad luck to him and his!'</p> + +<p>'Nevertheless, he is her husband, Biddy.'</p> + +<p>'I don't know about that, sir. I was never married myself, +and fourteen years is a long absence. Aren't they more her +children than his, when she has slaved and sacrificed herself +for them? You meant it well, sir, what you said to the +mistress; but I take the liberty of differing from you, and I +would sooner bite my tongue out than speak the word that +will bring them all to shame.'</p> + +<p>'Then I must not look to you for help?'</p> + +<p>'I am afraid not, sir. I am on my mistress's side.'</p> + +<p>'You are an obstinate old woman, Biddy, and I looked for +better sense at your age.'</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, he shook her by the hand very kindly, and +then she lighted him downstairs.</p> + +<p>Mollie came out of the dining-room and looked at him wistfully.</p> + +<p>'Is mamma better now, Captain Burnett?'</p> + +<p>'Well, no, I am afraid not: but I think you need not +trouble. Biddy will look after her.'</p> + +<p>'Biddy is dreadfully mysterious, and will hardly let any of +us speak to mamma; but I think it is my place, not Biddy's, +to wait on her. She has no right to tell me to go downstairs, +and to treat me like a child. I am fifteen.'</p> + +<p>'Yes; indeed, you are growing quite a woman, Mollie.'</p> + +<p>And Michael looked very kindly at Audrey's <i>protégée</i>. He +and Mollie were great friends.</p> + +<p>'Cyril came in some time ago. He had to dress for the +party, you know, and Biddy would not let him go into the +drawing-room and interrupt you; she was mounting guard all +the time. Cyril was quite cross at last, and asked me what +on earth was the matter, and why you and mamma were having +a private interview; but of course I could not tell him.'</p> + +<p>'I suppose not, my dear.'</p> + +<p>'He says he shall ask mamma to-morrow, and that he shall +bring Miss Ross to see her, because he is sure she is ill. Will +you come in and see Kester, Captain Burnett?—he is busy +with his Greek.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">{312}</a></span></p> + +<p>But Michael declined; it was late, and he must hurry home +and dress for dinner.</p> + +<p>He had forgotten all about the Charringtons' dinner-party +and dance, and he was a little startled, as he entered the hall, +to see Audrey standing before the fire talking to Cyril. Both +of them were in evening dress.</p> + +<p>Audrey looked very pretty; she wore a white silk dress. +He had seen her in it once before, and he had thought then +how wonderfully well it became her; and the sparkling cross +rested against her soft throat. Cyril's roses, with their pale +pinky tint, gave her just the colour that was needed, and her +eyes were very bright; and perhaps her lover's praise had +brought that lovely glow to her face.</p> + +<p>'You will be late, Michael; the dressing-bell sounded an +age ago, and father is in the drawing-room. What have you +been doing with yourself all these hours?'</p> + +<p>'I had forgotten you were going out,' he returned, parrying +her question. 'How nice you look, Audrey! I thought white +silk was bridal finery. Cinderella turned into a princess was +nothing to you.'</p> + +<p>'I feel like a princess with my roses and diamonds;' but +she looked at Cyril, not at Michael, as she spoke. Cyril was +standing beside her with one arm against the carved mantelpiece; +he was looking handsomer than ever. Just then there +was the sound of carriage-wheels, and he took up the furred cloak +that lay on the settee beside him, and put it gently round her +shoulders.</p> + +<p>'You must not take cold,' Michael heard him say. There +was nothing in the words, but the glance that accompanied this +simple remark spoke volumes. Michael drew a deep heavy +sigh as he went upstairs. 'Poor fellow! how he worships her!' +he thought;' what will be the end of this tangle?' And then +he dressed himself hastily and took his place at the table to eat +his dinner with what appetite he might, while Mrs. Ross discoursed +to him placidly on the baby's beauty and on dear +Geraldine's merits as a mother and hostess.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">{313}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXXIV</h2> + +<h3>'I MUST THINK OF MY CHILD, MIKE'</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>'Ah! the problem of grief and evil is, and will be always, the greatest +enigma of being, only second to the existence of being itself.'—<span class="smcap">Amiel.</span></p></div> + + +<p>Michael listened in a sort of dream. He was telling himself +all the time that his opportunity was come, and that it was +incumbent on him not to sleep another night under his cousin's +roof until he had made known to him this grievous thing.</p> + +<p>As soon as they rose from the table, and Dr. Ross was +preparing as usual to follow his wife into the drawing-room +until the prayer-bell summoned him into the schoolroom, +Michael said, a little more seriously than usual:</p> + +<p>'Dr. Ross, would you mind giving me half an hour in the +study after prayers? I want your advice about something;' +for he wished to secure this quiet time before Audrey returned +from her party.</p> + +<p>The Doctor was an observant man, in spite of his occasional +absence of mind, and he saw at once that something was amiss.</p> + +<p>'Shall you be able to do without us this evening, Emmie?' +he said, with his usual old-fashioned politeness, that his wife +and daughters thought the very model of perfection: 'it is too +bad to leave you alone when Audrey is not here to keep you +company.'</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Ross assured him that she would not in the least +mind such solitude; she was reading the third volume of an +exciting novel, and would not be sorry to finish it. And as +soon as this was settled and the coffee served, the gong sounded, +and they all adjourned to the schoolroom.</p> + +<p>Michael never missed this function, as he called it. He +liked to sit in his corner and watch the rows of boyish faces +before him, and try to imagine what their future would be;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">{314}</a></span> +and, above all things, he loved to hear the fresh young voices +uniting in their evening hymn; but on this evening he regarded +them with some degree of sadness.</p> + +<p>'They have the best of it,' he thought rather moodily; +'they little know what is before them, poor fellows! and the +hard rubs fate has in store for them.' And then, as they filed +past him and one little fellow smiled at him, he drew him aside +and put him between his knees.</p> + +<p>'You look very happy, Willie. I suppose you have not +been caned to-day?'—a favourite joke of the Captain's.</p> + +<p>'No, sir,' returned Willie proudly; 'but Jefferson minor +fought me, and I licked him. You may ask the other fellows, +and they would tell you it was all fair. He is a head taller +than me, and I licked him,' finished Willie, with an air of +immense satisfaction on his chubby baby face.</p> + +<p>'Ah, you licked him, did you?' returned Michael absently; +'and Jefferson minor is beaten. I hope you shook hands afterwards; +fair fight and no malice, Willie. There's a shilling +for you because you did not show the white feather in the +face of the enemy. You will be at the head of a brigade +yet, my boy.' For all Dr. Ross's lads were bitten with the +military fever, and from Willie Sayers to broad-shouldered Jeff +Davidson each boy nourished a secret passion and desire to +follow the Captain's footsteps, and were ready to be hewed and +slashed into small pieces if only the Victoria Cross might be +their reward.</p> + +<p>As soon as the curly-haired champion had left him, Michael +followed his cousin into the study. Dr. Ross had already +lighted his lamp, and roused his fire into a cheerful blaze.</p> + +<p>'What is it, Mike? you look bothered,' he asked, as Michael +drew up his chair. 'Nothing wrong with the money, I +hope?'</p> + +<p>'What should be wrong about it?' returned Michael rather +disdainfully; 'it is about as safe as the Bank of England. No; +it is something very different—a matter that I may say concerns +us all. I heard something the other day rather uncomfortable +about the Blakes.'</p> + +<p>'Nothing discreditable, I hope?' returned the Doctor +quickly.</p> + +<p>'I am afraid I must answer "Yes" to that question; but, +at least, I can assure you that there is nothing against Blake.'</p> + +<p>Then Dr. Ross looked relieved.</p> + +<p>'Whatever blame there is attaches solely to the mother.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">{315}</a></span></p> + +<p>'Humph! With all her good looks, I never quite liked +the woman,' ejaculated Dr. Ross <i>sotto voce</i>. Nevertheless, he +had always been extremely pleasant with her; but perhaps a +man finds it difficult to be otherwise with a pretty woman.</p> + +<p>'I have unfortunately found out—but perhaps I ought to +say fortunately for us—that Mrs. Blake is not a widow: her +husband is living.'</p> + +<p>'Good heavens!'</p> + +<p>'Neither is her name Blake; she changed it at the time she +discarded her husband. I am afraid you must prepare yourself +for a shock, Dr. Ross, for the whole thing is distinctly reprehensible.'</p> + +<p>'And you mean to tell me,' returned the Doctor, with an +anxious blackness gathering on his brow, 'that Cyril—that +my future son-in-law is cognisant of this fact?'</p> + +<p>'No, no!' replied Michael eagerly; 'you are doing him +injustice. Blake is as ignorant of the thing as you are yourself; +he has no more to do with it than you or I. Did I not tell +you that the sole blame rests with his mother?'</p> + +<p>Then the Doctor, in spite of his Christianity, pronounced a +malediction against the Blake womankind.</p> + +<p>'She is just the sort to get into mischief,' he continued; +'there is a dangerous look in her eyes. Go on, Michael; don't +keep me in suspense. There is something disgraceful behind +all this. What reason has any woman to allege for giving up +her husband?'</p> + +<p>'Her excuse is that he brought shame and dishonour on her +and on his children, and that she would have nothing more to +do with him. He had committed a forgery, and had been +condemned to penal servitude for seven years.'</p> + +<p>Then the Doctor said 'Good heavens!' again. At certain +moments of existence it is not possible to be original—when the +roof is falling on one's head, for example, or a deadly avalanche +is threatening. But Michael needed no answer; he only wished +to finish his story as quickly as possible.</p> + +<p>'You know Audrey's friend, Thomas O'Brien?'</p> + +<p>'To be sure I do. He is a retired corn-chandler. I went +to his shop once, in Peterborough.'</p> + +<p>'And you have probably heard of his brother Mat?'</p> + +<p>Then Dr. Ross gazed at him with a face of despair. His +misfortunes were accumulating; he had a sense of nightmare +and oppression. Surely this hideous thing could not be true! +no such disgrace could threaten him and his! If an earthquake<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">{316}</a></span> +had opened in the Woodcote grounds, he could not have looked +more horrified.</p> + +<p>'Do you mean to tell me, Mike, that this Mat O'Brien is +Cyril's father?'</p> + +<p>Then Michael gave him a detailed and carefully-worded +account of his interview with Mrs. Blake.</p> + +<p>'Then it is true—quite true?' in a hopeless tone.</p> + +<p>'There cannot be a doubt of it; I had it from her own lips. +To-morrow I must see O'Brien himself, and hear his side. I +cannot help saying that I am sorry for the woman, in spite of +her falseness; she is utterly crushed with her misery.' But it +may be doubted if Dr. Ross heard this: he was occupied with +his own reflections.</p> + +<p>'This will break Audrey's heart; she is devoted to the +fellow.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, I hope not; she has more strength than other girls.'</p> + +<p>'Of course I cannot allow this affair to go on: I must see +Blake, and tell him so at once.'</p> + +<p>'There is no hurry, is there? I think you should let me +speak to O'Brien first.'</p> + +<p>'Well, if you wish it; but I confess I do not see the +necessity.'</p> + +<p>'And I hope you will be gentle with Blake: remember that +not a vestige of blame attaches to him; it is simply his misfortune +that he is the son of such parents. I expect he will be +utterly broken-hearted.'</p> + +<p>Then Dr. Ross gave vent to an impatient groan. No man +had a softer heart than he, and he had liked Cyril from the +first.</p> + +<p>'I must think of my child, Mike,' he said at last.</p> + +<p>'Yes, you must think of her; but you must be merciful to +him, too. Think what he will suffer when he knows this; and +he is as innocent as a babe! I suppose'—and then he hesitated, +and looked at his cousin—'that there will be no way of +hushing up things, and letting the engagement go on?'</p> + +<p>Then the Doctor nearly sprang out of his chair.</p> + +<p>'Are you out of your senses, Michael, to put such a question +to me? Is it likely that any man in my position would allow +his family to be allied to a convicted criminal? Would any +amount of hushing up render such an alliance tolerable?'</p> + +<p>'Well, I suppose not.'</p> + +<p>'I have never cared much for conventionality, or for the +mere show of things; but I suppose that, in some sense, the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">{317}</a></span> +good opinion of my fellow-men is necessary for my comfort. +When Blake came to me, and told me that he had not a shilling +in the world beside his earnings as my classical master, I did +not let his poverty stand in the way. I told him that, as my +girl's happiness was involved, I could not find it in my heart +to withhold my consent.</p> + +<p>'"You are certainly not in the position in which I should +wish to see my son-in-law," I said to him; "but I will speak +to Charrington, and see what is to be done."</p> + +<p>'Well, I have spoken, and Charrington only promised the +other day that he would push him on. I have no doubt at +all that, with my interest and standing in the place, Cyril +would have had a house in time, and Audrey's position would +have been equal to her sister's.'</p> + +<p>'And you mean to say that all this is at an end?'</p> + +<p>'Of course it is at an end!' almost shouted the Doctor; +'and Cyril's career is practically at an end, too. Do you +suppose any public school in England would employ a master +whose relatives are so disreputable that he is obliged to make +use of an assumed name? When I refuse to allow him to +marry my daughter, I must give him his <i>congé</i> at the same +time.'</p> + +<p>'Then in that case he is a ruined man;' and to this Dr. +Ross gave a sorrowful assent.</p> + +<p>'How am I to help myself or him, Mike? I will do all +in my power to soften the weight of this blow to him; but +when all is at an end between him and Audrey, how am I +to keep him in Rutherford? The thing would he impossible. +He would not wish it himself. He is very proud and high-spirited +by nature, and such a position would be intolerable +to him. No, he must go; but if money will help him, he may +command me to any reasonable amount.'</p> + +<p>'He will not take your money;' and then he added 'Poor +beggar!' under his breath.</p> + +<p>'You will stand by me, Mike?'</p> + +<p>'Most certainly I will; but I mean to befriend Blake, too, +as far as he will let me.'</p> + +<p>'I should not think he would refuse your sympathy; a +man needs someone at such a time. But when I spoke I was +thinking of my girl. You have great influence with her, +Michael; sometimes I think no brother's influence could be +stronger. How would it be if she were to hear the news first +from you?'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">{318}</a></span></p> + +<p>Then Michael recoiled as though someone had struck him +in the face.</p> + +<p>'Impossible! I could not tell her. I would rather be +shot!' he returned vehemently.</p> + +<p>'Well, it is not a pleasant business, and I suppose I must +do it myself; only the idea crossed my mind that perhaps it +might come better from you. I shall not be able to refrain +from indignation; I am apt to get a little warm sometimes.'</p> + +<p>But Michael firmly negatived this notion.</p> + +<p>'It will go hard with her, whoever tells it,' he said decidedly. +'Nothing can soften such a blow, and it is far better for her +to hear it from her father. You see,' he continued rather +sadly, 'it will be a fair division, for I have to break it to poor +Blake; and I shall have tough work with him, for he worships +the ground she walks on.'</p> + +<p>'Ay, poor fellow! I know he does. What a cruel affair +it is, Mike! That woman's deceit will go far to spoil two +lives.'</p> + +<p>But to this Michael would not agree. He said, with a +great deal of feeling, that Audrey was not the girl to let any +love-affair spoil her life; she thought too little of herself, was +too considerate and unselfish, to allow any private unhappiness +to get too strong a hold over her, and so spoil other people's +lives.</p> + +<p>'You will see what sort of stuff she has in her,' he said, +with the enthusiasm of a lover who can find no flaw at all. +'She will bear her sorrow bravely, and not allow it to interfere +with others. She is far too good and noble. You need not +fear for her; she has strength enough for a dozen women.'</p> + +<p>And Dr. Ross felt himself a little comforted by such words.</p> + +<p>'Do you mind waiting up for her to-night?' he asked +presently. 'Unfortunately, Emmie has sent all the servants +to bed, because I said I had some writing to do. I feel very +upset about all this, and she will find out from my manner +that something is amiss. Would it bother you, Mike? She +will just come in here and warm herself; but if you tell her +you are tired, she will not detain you.'</p> + +<p>'I can have no objection to do that,' replied Michael, trying +to hide his reluctance; and, indeed, Dr. Ross looked so pale +and jaded, that Audrey's suspicions would have been excited. +'Go to bed and get a good night's rest; it is nearly twelve +now, and they meant to be home by one.'</p> + +<p>Then Dr. Ross allowed himself to be persuaded.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">{319}</a></span></p> + +<p>'I don't know about the good night's rest,' he replied; 'but +I should be glad to think over the whole thing quietly before +I see either of them. There is no hurry, as you say, and +perhaps you had better get your interview over with O'Brien.'</p> + +<p>'Shall you tell Cousin Emmeline?'</p> + +<p>'Tell Emmie!' and here the Doctor's voice was somewhat +irritable, as one disagreeable detail opened after another. +'Not to-night, certainly. Why, she will be asleep. No, it +would never do to tell her before Audrey; it would get round +to Geraldine, and there would be the deuce of a row. Tell +the child I was tired, and bid her good-night.'</p> + +<p>And then Dr. Ross shook Michael's hand with fervour and +took himself off.</p> + +<p>Michael spent a dreary hour by himself in the study. It +was a relief to him when he heard the carriage-wheels, but as +he opened the door he was quite dazzled at the scene before +him. It was a brilliant moonlight night, and the terrace and +wide lawn were bathed in the pure white light. A crisp frost +had touched the grass and silvered each blade, and the effect +against the dark background of trees and shrubs was intensely +beautiful.</p> + +<p>And the moonlight shone full on Audrey's upturned face, as +she stood talking to her lover, and the silken folds of her dress +and her soft furred cloak and hood looked almost of unearthly +whiteness. In Michael's bewildered eyes she seemed invested +at the present moment with some new and regal beauty; but +her light musical laugh dispelled the illusion.</p> + +<p>'Why, Michael, what has become of father?'</p> + +<p>'He was tired, and went off to bed more than an hour ago. +I hope you do not object to his deputy. I suppose you are +not coming in, Blake, as it is so late?'</p> + +<p>'Of course he is not,' returned Audrey in a tone that +allowed of no appeal. 'He has early work to-morrow, and +must get as much rest as he can. Good-night, Cyril; we +have had a delightful evening, have we not?' And to this +Cyril responded gaily—for it was not possible there could be +any lingering adieus before Michael; and as Cyril ran down +the terrace Audrey waited until Michael had fastened the door, +and then accompanied him to the study.</p> + +<p>'How nice and warm it is!' she observed in a pleased tone. +'You always keep up such a splendid fire.'</p> + +<p>'I am a chilly mortal, you know, and these March nights +have a touch of December in them.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">{320}</a></span></p> + +<p>'Yes; it is quite frosty.'</p> + +<p>And Audrey threw back her hood and cloak and sat down +in Dr. Ross's favourite chair. 'Had she any idea how like a +picture she looked,' Michael wondered, 'with all those soft +white draperies about her, and the sparkling cross upon her +neck?' Then he turned away his head with a mute sensation +of pain. How happy, how very happy, she looked!</p> + +<p>'We have had such a nice evening, she began in her most +animated manner; 'everything was so well arranged. There +was a dinner-party first, which was followed by what they called +a Cinderella dance; but actually they do not mean to break +up for another hour and a half. Mrs. Charrington was quite +annoyed because we came home so early.'</p> + +<p>'And you enjoyed yourself?'</p> + +<p>'Oh, immensely! I waltzed twice with Cyril. Do you +know, he dances splendidly—he was certainly my best partner.'</p> + +<p>'Yes; he looks as though he would dance well. Would +you believe it, Audrey, that when I was a youngster I was considered +a good dancer, too? It is rather droll to remember that +now.'</p> + +<p>'I can very easily believe it—you do everything well, +Michael.'</p> + +<p>'Pshaw!' And then Michael added, with a pretended +yawn: 'I think I could sleep well, though.'</p> + +<p>But Audrey refused to take this very broad hint.</p> + +<p>'What a hurry you are in! And I have not warmed myself +yet. Do stay a little longer, Michael. I so seldom get you to +myself.'</p> + +<p>'But it is very late,' he returned, unwilling to yield.</p> + +<p>'I will only keep you a few minutes,' she replied eagerly; +'but I want to tell you something.'</p> + +<p>Then he was obliged to sit down again.</p> + +<p>'What is it?' he asked a little languidly, for the spell of +her presence was so strong that it threatened to subjugate him. +He was never willingly alone with her now. The fear was +always upon him that, in some weak moment, he might betray +himself. The fear was an idle one—no man was less likely than +Michael to lose his self-control; but, nevertheless, it was there.</p> + +<p>'It is about Cyril,' she returned softly. 'Dr. Charrington +has been so nice to him to-night. He stood out once during +the Lancers, and Dr. Charrington came up to him, and they +had quite a long talk together. He said father had been +speaking to him, and that he had quite made up his mind that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">{321}</a></span> +Cyril should be in the upper school next year, when Mr. Hanbury +left. It would be a better position, and he would be able +to have private pupils. And he as good as told him that he +would do his best to push him, for father's sake.'</p> + +<p>'Blake must have been very pleased at this,' replied Michael; +but he spoke in a dull, monotonous way.</p> + +<p>'Yes; he is quite excited. Don't you see,' she continued a +little shyly, 'it will make all the difference to us if Dr. Charrington +pushes Cyril; for of course it will make it possible for +him to marry.'</p> + +<p>Then Michael felt as though he had accidentally touched +a full-charged battery. He waited until the numb, tingling +sensation had left him before he answered her.</p> + +<p>'I did not know that you wished to shorten your engagement,' +he said very quietly; 'I understood that there would be no talk +of settling for the next two or three years; but, of course, if +your father has no objection——'</p> + +<p>'How you talk, Michael!' returned Audrey, blushing with +some annoyance at this obvious misunderstanding of her meaning; +'it is Cyril who is in a hurry: for myself, I should be +perfectly content to go on as we are for the next five years. Do +you not remember my tirade on the pleasures of freedom?'</p> + +<p>'I think I do recall something of the kind.' Alas! had he +ever forgotten anything she had said to him?</p> + +<p>'Well, I am afraid I am of the same opinion still; only I +dare not let Cyril know that: he would be so hurt. I suppose,' +reflectively, 'men are different from women; they do always +seem in such a dreadful hurry about everything. When Cyril +complains that he feels unsettled, and that I get between him +and his work, I do not pretend to understand him. I am very +matter-of-fact, am I not, Michael?'</p> + +<p>'I should not have said so.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, but I am; and I am afraid Cyril thinks so. Well, as +I have told you my good news I will not detain you any longer.' +And then Michael rose with a feeling of relief.</p> + +<p>But as he followed her a few minutes later upstairs, he +wondered what she must have thought of him. With all his +efforts, he had been unable to bring himself to utter one word +of congratulation. 'It would have been a lie,' he said to himself +vehemently; 'how could I find it in my heart to deceive +her for a moment? This may be their last happy day, Heaven +help them both!' and Michael went to bed in profound +wretchedness.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">{322}</a></span></p> + +<p>'My roses are withered,' thought Audrey, as she regarded +the drooping buds and leaves; 'my poor beautiful roses, and +they were Cyril's gift, too. What a pity that flowers must die, +and we must grow old—that in this world there must always be +decay and change! Shall I ever be happier than I am to-night, +with Cyril to love me, and Michael—dear Michael—to be my +friend? What makes him so grave? He is always grave now.' +And then she sighed and laid down her flowers, and took the +glittering cross from her neck. 'My poor Michael! I should +like to see him happy, too,' she finished, as she put it away in +its case.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">{323}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXV" id="CHAPTER_XXXV"></a>CHAPTER XXXV</h2> + +<h3>'OLIVE WILL ACKNOWLEDGE ANYTHING'</h3> + +<table summary="quotation"> +<tr><td> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse">'Evil, like a rolling stone upon a mountain-top,</div> +<div class="verse">A child may first impel, a giant cannot stop.'—<span class="smcap">Trench.</span></div> +</div> +</td></tr> +</table> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>'By despising himself too much, a man comes to be worthy of his own +contempt.'—<span class="smcap">Amiel.</span></p></div> + + +<p>Audrey was sure it was the east wind that made everyone so +unlike themselves the next morning. Bailey had told her that +the wind was decidedly easterly, or, perhaps, more strictly +speaking, north-east. She had run down the garden to speak +to him about some plants, and perhaps with some intention of +intercepting Cyril when he went across to breakfast, and they +had had quite a confabulation on the subject.</p> + +<p>But when she got back to the house she found rather a +subdued state of things. Mrs. Ross looked tired; her husband +had kept her awake by his restlessness, and she had got it firmly +in her mind that a fit of gout was impending. Dr. Ross had +once had a touch of gout—a very slight touch, to be sure—but +it had given him a wholesome fear of the complaint, and had +implanted in him a deep distrust of other men's port wine; and +his devoted wife had never forgotten the circumstance.</p> + +<p>'And I am sure,' she observed in an undertone to her +daughter, 'that if I were not quite certain that there is nothing +troubling your father—for, of course, he would have told me of +it at once—I should have said there was something on his +mind, for he tossed and groaned so; but mark my words, Audrey, +it is his old enemy, the gout; and if only I could induce him +to speak to Dr. Pilkington we might ward it off still.'</p> + +<p>'What is that you are telling the child, Emmie?' asked the +Doctor, who had very sharp ears. 'Gout! stuff and nonsense! +I never was better in my life.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">{324}</a></span></p> + +<p>'I think your complexion looks a little sallow this morning, +John,' returned Mrs. Ross rather timidly, for she knew her +husband's objection to any form of ailment; 'and I am sure +you never closed your eyes all night.' But at this Dr. Ross +pished impatiently, and it was then that Audrey hazarded her +brilliant suggestion about the east wind.</p> + +<p>'Michael looks rather limp, too,' she went on; 'and he +never could endure an east wind.'</p> + +<p>'Have your own way, Audrey,' returned her cousin good-humouredly; +but neither to her nor to Mrs. Ross did he +confess that his night had been sleepless too. When he had +finished his breakfast he went round to the stables, where Dr. +Ross joined him. He had ordered the dog-cart to be got ready +for him, and he told the groom that there was no need to bring +it round to the front door.</p> + +<p>Dr. Ross watched him silently as he drew on his driving +gloves and turned up the collar of his coat.</p> + +<p>'You will have a cold drive, I am afraid,' he said at last, as +Michael took the reins and the brown mare began to fidget; +'come to my study the moment you get back.' And Michael +nodded.</p> + +<p>Much as he disliked the business before him, he was anxious +to get it over; so he drove as fast as possible; and as the mare +was fresh and skittish, she gave him plenty to think about, and +he was quite warm with the exertion of holding her in and +restraining her playful antics by the time he pulled up at the +village inn, which went by the name of the Cat and Fiddle. +Here he had the mare put up, while he walked down the one +main street of Brail, and down a lane or two, until he came to +Mr. O'Brien's sequestered cottage.</p> + +<p>Mr. O'Brien opened the door himself. When he saw +Michael, he shook his head with an air of profound sadness, and +led the way without speaking into the parlour, where he +usually sat, and where Sam was basking before the fire after +the luxurious habit of cats.</p> + +<p>He got up, however, and rubbed his sleek head against +Michael's knee as he sat down in the black elbow-chair; +but Mr. O'Brien still stood on the rug, shaking his head +sadly.</p> + +<p>'You have come, Captain. I made up my mind you would +come to-day, to get at the rights of it; I told Mat so. +"Depend upon it, the Captain will look us up," I said to him; +"he is a man of action, and it is not likely he will let the grass<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">{325}</a></span> +grow under his feet. He will be round, sure enough, and you +will have to be ready with your answers."'</p> + +<p>'Where is your brother, Mr. O'Brien?'</p> + +<p>'He has gone out for a bit, but he will be back presently. +I told him not to go far. "You'll be wanted, you may take my +word for it—you'll be wanted, Mat," I told him; and then he +promised he would be round directly.'</p> + +<p>'I am afraid this affair has been a great shock to you, Mr. +O'Brien. Miss Ross once told me that you had no idea whom +your brother married.'</p> + +<p>'Well, sir, I can't say as much as that. Mat told me +that the name of the girl he was going to wed was Olive +Carrick, and that she came of respectable people; but he did +not tell me much more than that. And now I put it to you, +Captain—how was I to know that any woman would falsify +her husband's name, and that she should be living close to my +doors, as one might say?—for what is a matter of three miles? +It gave me a sort of shiver—and I have not properly got rid of +it yet—when I think of that dear young creature, whom Susan +and me have always loved—that she should be entrapped +through that woman's falseness into an engagement with Mat's +son. It goes to my heart—it does indeed, Captain—to see +that dear, sweet lady dragged into a connection that will only +disgrace her.'</p> + +<p>'My cousin would think it no disgrace to be connected with +you, Mr. O'Brien;' for he knew too well Audrey's large-mindedness +and absence of conventionality. 'She has always +looked upon you as her friend.'</p> + +<p>'Thank you, Captain; that is very handsomely said, and I +wish my Prissy could have heard it, for she has done nothing +but cry since the news reached her. "Rachel refusing to be +comforted" is nothing compared to Prissy when the mood is on +her; she literally waters all her meals with her tears. Yes, +you mean it handsomely; but I am an old man, Captain +Burnett, and know the world a bit, and I have the sense to see +that Thomas O'Brien—honest and painstaking as he may be—is +no fit connection for Dr. Ross's daughter. Why, to think +she might be my niece and call me "uncle"!' and here the old +man's face flushed as he spoke. 'It is not right; it is not as +it should be. She must give him up—she must indeed, +Captain!'</p> + +<p>'I am afraid Dr. Ross holds that opinion, Mr. O'Brien. +You will understand that he means no disrespect to you; but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">{326}</a></span> +it is simply intolerable to him that any daughter of his should +marry Matthew O'Brien's son. You see, I am speaking very +plainly.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, sir; and I am speaking just as plainly to you. In +this sort of case it is no use beating about the bush. Mat has +made his bed, and he must just lie on it; and his children—Heaven +help them, poor young things!—must just lie on theirs +too. Dear, dear! to think that when she was talking to me so +pleasantly about Mollie and Kester, and—what is her lad's +name?—that neither she nor I had an idea that she was +speaking to their uncle! There, it beats me, Captain—it does +indeed!' And there were tears in the old man's eyes.</p> + +<p>'I am afraid there is heavy trouble in store for them all, and +for my cousin, too; she will be very unwilling to give up +Blake.'</p> + +<p>'Humph! that is what he calls himself! Well, she was +always faithful, Captain; she is made of good stout stuff, and +that sort wears best in the long-run. If she is a bit difficult, +send her to me, and I'll talk to her. I will put things before +her in a light she won't be able to resist.'</p> + +<p>In spite of the sadness of the conversation, Michael could +hardly forbear a smile.</p> + +<p>'I hardly know what you would say to her, Mr. O'Brien.'</p> + +<p>'You leave that to me, Captain; it is best not to be +too knowing about things. But I don't mind telling you one +thing that I would say: "My dear young lady, you have been +a good and true friend to Thomas O'Brien, and I am grateful +and proud to call you my friend; but I will not have you for +my niece. Mat's son may be good as gold—I have nothing to +say against the poor lad, who, after all, is my own flesh and +blood; but it would be a sin and shame to wed him, when his +father picked oakum in a felon's cell." Don't you think that +will fetch her, sir? Women are mostly proud, and like their +menkind to have clean hands; and I'll say it, too!' And here +Mr. O'Brien thumped the arm of his chair so emphatically, +that Sam woke and uttered a reproachful mew.</p> + +<p>'I hope you will not be put to the pain of saying this to +her,' returned. Michael, in a low voice.</p> + +<p>What a fine old fellow this was! He wondered what Dr. +Ross would say when he repeated this speech to him. Nature +must have intended Tom O'Brien for a gentleman. Could anything +be more touching than the way he sought to shield his +girl-friend, even putting aside the natural claims of his own<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">{327}</a></span> +flesh and blood to prevent her from being sullied by any contact +with him and his?</p> + +<p>Michael felt as though he longed to shake hands with him, +and tell him how he honoured and respected him; but he +instinctively felt that any such testimony would hardly be +understood. One word he did venture to say:</p> + +<p>'I think it is very good of you to take our side.'</p> + +<p>'Nay, sir, I can see nought of goodness in it. As my +Susan used to say, you should not praise people for walking +along a straight road, and for not taking the first crooked path +that offers itself. Susan and I thought alike there—we were +neither of us fond of crooked turnings. "There can only be +one right and one wrong, Tom," as she would say; and I hope, +Captain, that I shall always tell the truth and shame the devil +as long as I am a living man.'</p> + +<p>'I should think there would be no doubt of that,' returned +Michael heartily. And then a faint smile crossed the old +man's face; but it faded in a moment, as footsteps sounded in +the passage outside.</p> + +<p>'That is Mat; he has kept his word in coming back so +soon. I had better fetch him in, and then you'll get it +over.'</p> + +<p>'You need not leave the room, Mr. O'Brien; this is your +business as well as ours.'</p> + +<p>'I know it, sir. But, thank you kindly, I feel as if I had +said my say, and that I may as well bide quiet with Prissy. +Mat has had it all out with me; we were up half the night +talking. I always hoped I was a Christian, Captain; but I +doubt it when I think of the words I spoke about that woman. +She married that poor lad to serve her own purposes and to +spite her lover; and while he doted on her, she just looked +down on him, and scouted his people because they were in +trade. She pretty nearly ruined him with her fine lady-like +ways, and with pestering him for money that he had not got; +and then, when he made that slip of his, and was almost crazy +with the sin and the shame, she just gives him up—will have +nothing more to do with him. And that is the woman that +the Almighty made so fair outside that our poor foolish lad +went half wild for the love of her! No, sir; if you will +excuse me, I will just send Mat along, and keep in the background +a bit. It makes me grind my teeth with pain and +anger to hear how she treated the poor fellow, almost driving +him mad with her bitter tongue!'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">{328}</a></span></p> + +<p>'Then in that case I will certainly not keep you.' And as +he spoke he noticed how the vigorous old man seemed to +totter as he rose from his chair; but he only shook his +head with the same gentle smile as Michael offered him his +arm.</p> + +<p>'Nay, Captain; that is not needed. I am only a bit shaken +with all that's passed, and you must give me time to right +myself. Now I will send Mat in; and when you have finished +I'll see you again.'</p> + +<p>Michael did not have to wait long. He had only crossed +the room to look at a photograph of Susan O'Brien which +always stood on a little round table in the corner, when he +found the light suddenly intercepted, as Matthew O'Brien's tall +figure blocked up the little window.</p> + +<p>To his surprise, Mat commenced the conversation quite +easily:</p> + +<p>'You are looking at Susan, Captain Burnett? That was +taken twelve or thirteen years ago. Isn't it a kind, true +face?—that is better than a handsome one in the long-run. +She does not look as though she would desert a man when his +head is under water—eh, Captain?'</p> + +<p>'No, indeed!' returned Michael, falling at once into the +other man's humour. 'Mrs. O'Brien must have been a +thoroughly good woman, for her husband never seems to have +got over her loss; he is always talking about her.'</p> + +<p>'That is so like Tom! He was never given to keep a silent +tongue in his head: he must always speak out his thoughts, +good or bad. That is rather different from me. Why, I have +often spent days without opening my mouth, except to call to +my dog. I think Tom finds it a relief to talk; the sound of +his own tongue soothes him.'</p> + +<p>'Very likely. Shall we sit down, Mr. O'Brien? the fireside +is rather a pleasant place this bitter March day.'</p> + +<p>'As you like,' returned Mat indifferently; 'for myself, I +prefer to stand;' and as he spoke he propped his tall figure +against the wooden mantelpiece, and, half shielding his face +with one arm, looked down into the blaze.</p> + +<p>In this attitude Michael could only see his side-face, and he +was startled at the strong likeness to Cyril—the profile was +nearly as finely cut; and it was only when he turned his full +face that the resemblance ceased to be so striking. Cyril had +the same dark eyes and low, broad forehead; but his beautifully-formed +mouth and chin were very different from his father's,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">{329}</a></span> +which expressed far too clearly a weak, irresolute character. +But he was a handsome man, and, in spite of his shabby coat, +there was something almost distinguished in his appearance. +Anyone seeing the man for the first time would have guessed +he had a story; very probably, looking at his broad chest and +closely-cropped gray hair and black moustache, they would have +taken him for a soldier, as Michael did.</p> + +<p>Somehow, he found it a little difficult to begin the conversation; +he hoped Matthew O'Brien would speak again; but +he seemed disinclined to break the silence that had grown up +between them.</p> + +<p>'You are not much like your brother, Mr. O'Brien.'</p> + +<p>'No, sir; Tom and I are not much alike, and more's the +pity. Tom has been an honest man all his life.'</p> + +<p>Michael was about to reply that that was not saying much +in his favour; but he felt that under the circumstances this +would be awkward, so he held his peace.</p> + +<p>'There aren't many men to beat Tom,' continued Mat. +'Few folk would be so stanch to their own flesh and blood +when only disgrace would come of it; but Tom is too fine-hearted +to trample on a fellow when he is down and other +folk are crying "Fie! for shame!" on him. Would you +believe it, sir,' stretching out a sinewy thin hand as he spoke, +'that that brother of mine never said an unkind word to me in +my life; and when I came back to him that night, feeling none +too sure of my welcome, it was just a grip of the hand and +"Come in, my lad," as though I were the young chap I +used to be coming home to spend my holiday with him and +Susan.'</p> + +<p>'I think your brother one of the best men living, Mr. +O'Brien.'</p> + +<p>'And so he is, sir; and so he is; but you have not come +all this way to talk about Tom;' and here he paused, and again +the shielding hand went over his eyes, and Michael could see +a twitching of the mouth under the moustache. 'It is about +Olive that you want to see me.'</p> + +<p>'You are right. Will you kindly give me the date and +place of your marriage?'</p> + +<p>Matthew O'Brien nodded and drew a folded paper from his +breast-pocket.</p> + +<p>'There it is. Tom told me I had better write it down in +black and white to save us all trouble. I have put down the +date and the name of the church where we were married.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">{330}</a></span> +Strange to say, I can even recollect the name of the parson +who did the job; he was a little black-haired man, and his +name was Craven. It was a runaway match, you know. +Olive was stopping with some friends in Dublin, and I met her +early one morning and took her to St. Patrick's. You will +find it all right in the register—Matthew Robert O'Brien and +Olive Carrick. There were only two witnesses: an old pew-opener, +and a friend of mine, Edgar Boyle. Boyle is dead +now, poor chap! but you will find his name all right.'</p> + +<p>'Can you tell me also, Mr. O'Brien, where I can find the +entries of your children's baptism? It may be necessary for +them to know this some day.'</p> + +<p>'Well, sir, I believe I can satisfy you on that point, too. +We were living at Stoke Newington when the children were +born. You will find their names in the register at St. Philip's—Cyril +Langton Carrick: that was a bit of her pride; she +wanted the boy to have her family names. Kester and Mary +Olivia—my little Mollie as we meant to call her—I have not +seen her since she was a baby;' and here Michael was sure +Mat dashed away a tear. 'It was a barbarous thing to +rob me of my children, and I was so fond of the little chaps, +too. I think I took most to Kester; he was such a cunning, +clever little rogue, and his mother did not make half the fuss +about him that she did about Cyril.'</p> + +<p>'She has acknowledged that to me.'</p> + +<p>'I don't doubt it, sir. Olive will acknowledge anything; +she will have her flare-up one minute and frighten you to death +with her tantrums, and the next she will be as placid and +sweet-tongued as ever. She was never the same for two +days running; it would be always some scheme or other, something +for which she needed money. I used to tell her she +never opened her lips to me except to ask me for money; and +woe betide me if I told her I was hard up.'</p> + +<p>'But she had money of her own?'</p> + +<p>'Yes; but she muddled it away. She was always a bad +manager. I never saw such a woman; and Biddy was just as +bad. We might have had a comfortable home, and I might +have kept out of trouble, if she had listened to me; but I +might as well have spoken to that wall.'</p> + +<p>'But surely it was your duty as her husband to restrain her? +Her son manages her quite easily now.'</p> + +<p>'Perhaps so,' a little sullenly; 'maybe she cares for her +son, though she turned against her husband; her heart was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">{331}</a></span> +always like flint stone to me. I was afraid of her, Captain +Burnett, and she knew it; and that gave her a handle over +me. A man ought not to fear his own wife—it is against +nature; but, there, when she looked at me in her cold, +contemptuous way, and dared me to dictate to her, I felt all +my courage ooze out of me. I could have struck her when she +looked at me like that; and I think she wanted me to, just to +make out a case against me: but, fool that I was, I was too +fond of her and the children to do it. I bore it all, and +perilled my good name for her sake; and this is how she has +treated me—spurned me away from her as though I were +a dog!'</p> + +<p>'She has not been a good wife to you; but, all the same, I +do not understand why you took her at her word. Did you +never in all these years make an effort to be reconciled with +her for the sake of your children?'</p> + +<p>'You do not know Olive when you put such a question. +There will be no reconciliation possible in this world. I may +compel her to own herself my wife, but I could not force her +to say a kind word to me. She talked me over into setting +her free, and made me promise not to hunt her out. She got +over me. Olive is a rare talker; she told me it would be +better for the little chaps not to bear their father's name—she +would take them away and bring them up to be good, honest +men, and she would take care no shame should ever touch them; +and would you believe it, sir, I was so cowed and broken with the +thought of all those years I was to spend in prison, that for the +time I agreed with her. It was just as though I had made +her a promise to commit suicide. I was to let her and the +children go, and not to put in my claims when they set me +free; and as she talked and I answered her, it seemed to me +as though Mat O'Brien were already dead.'</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">{332}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXXVI</h2> + +<h3>'HOW CAN I BEAR IT?'</h3> + +<table summary="quotation"> +<tr><td> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse">'Through that gloom he will see but a shadow appearing,</div> +<div class="vind2">Perceive but a voice as I come to his side;</div> +<div class="verse">But deeper their voice grows, and nobler their bearing,</div> +<div class="vind2">Whose youth in the fires of anguish hath died.'</div> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<div class="sign"><span class="smcap">Matthew Arnold.</span></div> +</div> +</td></tr> +</table> + + +<p>Michael was trying to frame a suitable reply to this speech, +that was at once so tragic and hopeless, when Mat suddenly +turned to him and said, in a strangely altered voice:</p> + +<p>'I want you to tell me one thing, sir. Why does she call +herself Blake?'</p> + +<p>'I am afraid I cannot enlighten you on that point,' +returned Michael, after a moment's consideration; 'probably +it was the first name that occurred to her. You will allow that +it is short and handy, and that it is by no means conspicuous.' +But this answer did not seem to satisfy Matthew O'Brien. An +uneasy, almost suspicious look came into his eyes.</p> + +<p>'I suppose it does not mean,' he continued, hesitating over +his words, 'that she—Olive—has put herself under another +man's protection?'</p> + +<p>'Good heavens, O'Brien!' exclaimed Michael, in a shocked +voice. 'How can you wrong your wife so? With all her sins, +I do not believe she is that sort of woman.'</p> + +<p>'You mistake me, sir,' returned Mat doggedly. 'And, in a +way, you mistake Olive too. She has not got the notions of +other women. She would not think things wrong that would +horrify other folk. When she gave me up, she said that she +should consider herself free, and she might even make it straight +with her conscience to marry another man, who would be a +better protector to her and the children. I do not say Olive +has done this. But if it be so, by the powers above, Captain<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">{333}</a></span> +Burnett, I will have the law of her there! So let her and the +other fellow look out for themselves!'</p> + +<p>'There is no need to excite yourself so, O'Brien. Your wife is +too much a woman of the world to get herself into that sort of +trouble. Her love for her eldest son is her master passion. And +I do not suppose she has even given a thought to another man.'</p> + +<p>'I am glad to hear it, Captain. But Olive has fooled me +once, and I doubted but she might have done it again. +Perhaps you may not have heard it, but she would never have +married me if Darrell—Major Darrell, he was—had not jilted +her. She told me once, to spite me, that she worshipped the +ground the fellow trod on. And he was a cad—confound him!—one +of those light-hearted gentry who dance with girls and +make love to them, and then boast of their conquests. But he +had a way with him, and she never cared for anyone again. +She has told me so again and again in her tantrums.'</p> + +<p>'My poor fellow,' returned Michael pityingly, 'you may at +least be easy on one point. Mrs. Blake—or Mrs. O'Brien, as +I suppose we must call her—has certainly led an exemplary +life since she left you, devoting herself to her children, and +especially to her eldest son.'</p> + +<p>Mat made no answer. His brief excitement had faded, and +he now resumed his old dejection of manner. He leant his +head on his hand again and looked into the fire; but by and +by he roused himself from his abstraction.</p> + +<p>'Cyril has grown up a fine, handsome fellow, I hear. I +suppose he has Olive's good looks?'</p> + +<p>'He is very like her, certainly. He is a good-looking man, +and exceedingly clever. Any father might feel proud of such +a son.'</p> + +<p>'And he is to marry the young lady I saw here the other +day. I forget her name, but she is the daughter of the chief +boss down here.'</p> + +<p>Michael gave a faint shudder.</p> + +<p>'Her name is Miss Ross.'</p> + +<p>'Oh yes, I remember now. Tom says the marriage will be +broken off; but we will talk of that presently. I want to +hear something about the other little chap—Kester.'</p> + +<p>'He has not got his brother's good health, I am sorry to +say.' And here Michael gave a short sketch of Kester's boyish +accident, and the results that followed. 'He can walk very +fairly now,' he continued, 'and will soon lay aside his crutch; +but I fear he will never make a strong man.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">{334}</a></span></p> + +<p>'Dear, dear!' returned Mat in a sorrowful tone. 'And to +think of the active little monkey he used to be! Why, I can +see him now, mounted aloft on my shoulder and holding me +round the neck till I was fairly choked, and the other lad +clasping me round the knee, and hallooing out that he wanted +to ride dada, too, though Olive never seemed to care to see me +play with them—we made so much noise, she said. Dear, +dear! and to think of the poor chap on crutches! And there +is Mollie, too; she was only a baby when I saw her last—such +a fat, rosy little thing!'</p> + +<p>'Mollie is a fine-grown girl, and as nice a child as you +would wish to see. We are all very fond of her.'</p> + +<p>'Well, she has kept her word, and done her duty to them. +And now look here, sir. You just bring me somewhere where +I can see the youngsters, and hear them talk, and I will +promise you to keep dark, and not let out to them that I am +their father. I will just have a look at them, and then I will +never trouble them again.'</p> + +<p>'What on earth do you mean, O'Brien?'</p> + +<p>'I mean that Olive is right, and that they are better +without me,' returned Mat dejectedly. 'Do you suppose they +would have any love in their hearts for a father who could only +bring disgrace on them? No, sir; I am not going to stand in +their light and spoil their lives for them. I have given them +up to Olive, and she seems to have done her best for them. +Let the youngster have his sweetheart, and I will just bide +here quietly with Tom; or, if you think that Brail is too near, +I will put the seas between us again; and you can tell Olive +so, if you like.'</p> + +<p>'I shall tell her nothing of the kind, O'Brien,' returned +Michael, much touched at this generosity on the part of the +poor prodigal. 'I will not deny that this is the very thing +she suggested; she even begged me to propose this to you, but +I refused. Do you suppose that either I or my cousin, Dr. +Ross, would connive at such deceit and falsehood? It is quite +true that Mrs. Blake and her children may refuse to have anything +to do with you, but that is solely their affair. In a few +hours, Mr. O'Brien, your eldest son will be made aware of +his father's existence.'</p> + +<p>'I am sorry to hear it, sir,' returned Mat, in a weak, hopeless +voice. 'You will make a great mistake, and nothing +good will come of it. She will teach the youngsters to loathe +my very name, and as for the lad'—here he spoke with strong<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">{335}</a></span> +emotion—'he will be ready to curse me for spoiling his life. +No, no, sir; let sleeping dogs lie. Better let me keep dark, +and bring trouble to no one.'</p> + +<p>But Michael shook his head. Such double-dealing and +deceit could only deepen the mischief.</p> + +<p>'Dr. Ross will never give his sanction to his daughter's +marriage; he has assured me so most solemnly. Whatever +trouble comes will be of your wife's causing.'</p> + +<p>But Mat would not agree to this.</p> + +<p>'She meant no harm, sir. Olive always had curious ideas +of right and wrong, and she did her best for the youngsters. +According to your account, she has brought them up well, and +sent the lad to Oxford. Fancy a son of mine being such a +swell, and engaged to that young lady, too! Lord! when I +think of it, I am ready to wish I had never left the bush.'</p> + +<p>'It is no use wishing that now, Mr. O'Brien.'</p> + +<p>'No, sir; and it is no use talking over what can't be +mended. If you have made up your mind to tell the lad, it is +pretty plain that I can't hinder you; but I will not lift a +finger to help you. I will just stop where I am.'</p> + +<p>'I think perhaps that will be best under the circumstances.'</p> + +<p>'But, all the same, it makes me uncommon restless to feel +that Olive and the youngsters are only three miles off, and I +can't get at them. Put yourself in my place, sir, and you +would not find it very pleasant. And there's Tom, too—with +all his fine-hearted Christianity—vowing vengeance on Olive, +and threatening to turn her away from the door if she ever +dares to show her face here.'</p> + +<p>'I do not think that she will ever molest you or your brother.'</p> + +<p>'I am quite of your opinion, Captain. Olive will give me +a pretty wide berth, unless it is her interest to see me; and +then all Tom's rough speeches wouldn't turn her from her +purpose. For tenacity and getting her own way, I'd back her +against any woman.'</p> + +<p>'Well, as you say, there is nothing to be gained by talking.' +returned Michael, rising from his chair; but at this moment +Mr. O'Brien entered.</p> + +<p>'I hope I am not interrupting you, Captain; but it is +getting late, and I was thinking you would take a snack with +us. The women are dishing up the dinner—just a baked +shoulder of mutton and potatoes under it. We are plain folk, +but Prissy and I will be glad and proud if you will join us, +sir;' and, after a moment's hesitation, Michael consented.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">{336}</a></span></p> + +<p>He had had no idea how late it was; they would already be +sitting down to luncheon at Woodcote. It would be better for +him to take some food before he set out on his cold drive home.</p> + +<p>'If you will allow me to leave you directly afterwards,' he +observed; and, as Mat left the room that moment, he took the +opportunity to give Mr. O'Brien a brief <i>résumé</i> of the conversation.</p> + +<p>'He begged me to keep it all dark,' he finished; 'he is +thinking more of his children than himself. But I told him +that such a course would be impossible.'</p> + +<p>'And you spoke the truth, sir; and no good would come of +such crookedness. But Mat meant well; the lad has a good +heart, and I do not doubt he has a sore conscience when he +thinks of all the evil he has wrought. Leave him with me, +sir; I can manage him best. There, I hear Prissy calling to +us, and we will just take our places.'</p> + +<p>Michael felt faint and weary, and the homely viands seemed +very palatable to him; but he noticed how Matthew O'Brien's +want of appetite seemed to distress his brother.</p> + +<p>'You are eating nought, lad,' he kept saying at intervals, +and once he bade Prissy fetch the remains of a meat pie that +Mat had enjoyed the previous days; 'maybe he will find it +more toothsome,' he said in his hearty way; but Mat would +have nothing to say to it.</p> + +<p>'You let me be, Tom,' he said at last; 'a man has not +always got stomach for his food. The Captain has taken +away my appetite with his talk, and the sight of the meat +makes me sick;' and then he got up from the table, and they +saw him pacing up and down the garden with his pipe.</p> + +<p>Michael got away as soon as possible, and Mr. O'Brien +walked with him to the inn. When the dogcart was brought +out, he shook his hand very heartily.</p> + +<p>'Let me know how things go on, Captain, and God bless +you!' and then, as though by an afterthought: 'If the girl +gives you trouble, send her to me, and I will just talk the +sense into her.' And then he stood in the road and watched +until the dogcart and driver were out of sight.</p> + +<p>Afternoon work had begun as Michael entered Woodcote, +but he found Dr. Ross alone in the study.</p> + +<p>'I have only a few minutes to give you, Michael,' he said, +looking up from the letter he was writing; 'I expected you +back at least two hours ago.' Then Michael gave him a +concise account of his interview with the brothers.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">{337}</a></span></p> + +<p>'Thomas O'Brien is a grand old fellow,' he said enthusiastically; +'you should have heard him talk, Dr. Ross; and +as for poor Mat, he has the makings of a good fellow about +him, too, only the devil somehow spoilt the batch. Would you +believe it?—the poor beggar wanted to efface himself—to clear +out altogether for the sake of the youngsters, as he called them. +He was not very polished in his language, but what can you +expect? Still, he meant well.'</p> + +<p>'I daresay he did,' returned the Doctor with a sigh; 'you +had better keep that paper to show Cyril. I must send you +away now, as Carter and the other boys are coming to me. I +will see you later on.'</p> + +<p>And then Michael took himself off. He could hear Audrey's +voice as he passed the door of her sitting-room; Mollie was +with her. A few minutes later, as he stood at his window +wondering what he should do with himself, he saw her walk +down the terrace towards the gate with Mollie hanging on her +arm; they seemed laughing and talking. 'How long will she +wear that bright face?' he said to himself as he threw himself +into his easy-chair and took up the paper.</p> + +<p>He had just fallen into a doze, with Booty stretched on the +softest of rugs at his feet, when there was a light tap at his +door, and to his surprise and discomposure Cyril Blake entered +the room.</p> + +<p>The visit was so wholly unexpected that Michael stared at +him for a moment without speaking. Cyril had never come to +his private sitting-room before without a special invitation.</p> + +<p>'I must apologise for this intrusion, Captain Burnett,' began +Cyril quickly; 'but I wanted to speak to you particularly. +Were you asleep? I am so sorry if I have disturbed you.'</p> + +<p>'No, nonsense. I only felt drowsy because I have been out +in this cold wind and the room is so warm. Take a chair, +Blake. I shall be wide awake in a moment. Have you seen +the paper to-day? There is nothing in it, only a remarkably +stupid article on Bismarck.'</p> + +<p>'I will look at it by and by; but to tell you the truth, I +have come to speak to you about my mother. I am seriously +uneasy about her: either she is ill, or there is something +grievously wrong. I understood from Mollie that you were +with her for more than an hour yesterday; in fact, that she +sent for you.'</p> + +<p>The fire had burnt hollow during Michael's brief nap, and he +seized this opportunity to stir it vigorously into a blaze; it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">{338}</a></span> +afforded him a momentary respite. A few seconds' reflection +convinced him, however, that it was no use beating about the +bush with a man of Cyril's calibre. The truth had to be told, +and no amount of preparation would render it palatable.</p> + +<p>'You are right,' he returned quietly; 'Mrs. Blake sent for +me. She thought that I should be able to help her in a +difficulty.'</p> + +<p>Cyril looked intensely surprised. 'I thought Mollie must +have made a mistake. It seems very strange that my +mother——'</p> + +<p>He stopped as though civility did not permit him to finish +his sentence. But Michael perfectly understood him.</p> + +<p>'It seems strange to you; of course it does. My acquaintance +with Mrs. Blake is so slight that it certainly gives me +no right to her confidence; but she was in trouble—in great +trouble, I may say—and chance threw me in her way, and +so——'</p> + +<p>But here Cyril interrupted him.</p> + +<p>'My mother in trouble!' he returned incredulously, but +Michael thought he looked a little pale; 'excuse me, Captain +Burnett, if I seem rude, but from a boy I have been my mother's +friend. She has never kept anything from me. I find it almost +impossible to believe that she would give that confidence to a +comparative stranger which she would refuse to her son. May +I beg you to speak plainly? I abhor mysteries.'</p> + +<p>Cyril spoke impatiently and curtly; his tone was almost +displeased. But Michael took no offence; he regarded the +young man very kindly.</p> + +<p>'I abhor them too,' he replied gravely; 'but I want you to +understand one thing: it was a mere chance that brought me +in Mrs. Blake's way at a moment when she needed assistance; +I was only like any other stranger who sees a lady in difficulty. +Now I have told you this I can speak more plainly.'</p> + +<p>'I wish to heavens you would!' returned Cyril with growing +excitement. 'Do you know the impression you are giving +me?—that there is some mysterious confidence between you +and my mother. Is it too much to ask if I may know what +this difficulty and trouble mean?'</p> + +<p>'No, Blake; you shall know all in good time,' replied +Michael, with disarming gentleness. 'If I do not speak out at +once, it is because I fear to give you too great a shock.'</p> + +<p>'Too great a shock?'</p> + +<p>'Yes. Your mother, out of mistaken kindness, has kept<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">{339}</a></span> +her children in ignorance all these years that they have a father +living. He was not a father of whom they could be proud, +and she tried to keep the fact of his existence from them.'</p> + +<p>'Wait a moment!' exclaimed Cyril. The poor fellow had +turned very white. 'I must take this in. What are you +telling me, Burnett? That my mother—my widowed mother—has +a husband living?'</p> + +<p>'I am telling you the truth. Are you ready to hear me say +more? I will wait any time you like; but it is a long story, +and a sad one. Your mother has left me to tell it.'</p> + +<p>'Go on! Let me hear every word! Hide nothing—nothing!'</p> + +<p>Cyril spoke in a dull, stifled voice, as though he felt choking. +When Michael began to speak, very slowly and quietly, he +almost turned his back to him; and as the story proceeded, +Michael noticed how he clutched the carved arms of his chair; +but he did not once see his face. Michael afterwards owned +that telling that miserable story to Olive O'Brien's son was one +of the toughest jobs he had ever done in his life. But he had +no idea how well he did it: there was not an unnecessary +word. With the utmost care he strove to shield the woman, +and to show her conduct in the best light. 'It was for her +children's sake she did it,' he said again and again; but there +was no answering word from Cyril; if he had been turned to +stone, his position could not have been more rigid.</p> + +<p>'Have you understood me, Blake? My poor, dear fellow, if +you knew how sorry Dr. Ross and I are for you——'</p> + +<p>Then, as Michael mentioned Dr. Ross's name, Cyril seemed +galvanised into sudden life.</p> + +<p>'He knows! he knows! For God's sake give me air!' +But before Michael could cross the room, Cyril had stumbled +to the window and flung it up, and stood there, with the bitter +east wind blowing on his face, as though it were a refreshing +summer breeze.</p> + +<p>The chill air made Michael shiver; but he knew by experience +how intolerable was that sense of suffocation, and he stood by +patiently until that deadly feeling had passed.</p> + +<p>'Are you better now, Blake? My poor fellow, can you sit +down and speak to me?'</p> + +<p>Then Cyril turned his face towards him, and Michael was +shocked to see how strained and haggard it looked.</p> + +<p>'Does she know, too?'</p> + +<p>'Not yet; her father will tell her.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">{340}</a></span></p> + +<p>Then the poor boy shuddered from head to foot.</p> + +<p>'They will make her give me up! O my God! how can I +bear it? Burnett, I think I shall go mad! Tell me it is not +true—that my mother has not lied to me all these years!'</p> + +<p>'At least, she has lied for her son's sake.' But he knew +how futile were his words, as he saw the bitter contempt in +Cyril's honest eyes.</p> + +<p>'I will never forgive her! She has ruined my life! she +has made me wish that I were dead! I will never, never——'</p> + +<p>But Michael interrupted him somewhat sternly:</p> + +<p>'Hush! hush! You do not know what you are saying. +She is your mother, Blake—nothing can alter that fact.'</p> + +<p>'She has deceived us all! No, I will not speak; nothing +can make it better or worse. If I lose Audrey, I do not care +what becomes of me!'</p> + +<p>Michael looked at him pityingly.</p> + +<p>'Do you think you ought to marry her, Blake!'</p> + +<p>Then Cyril flung away from him with a groan; even in his +misery he understood that appeal to his generosity. But he +put it from him: he was too much stunned, too dazed altogether, +to follow out any train of reasoning. In a vague sort +of way he understood two facts: that he and Kester and Mollie +were disgraced, and that his mother—the mother whom he +adored—had deceived him. Beyond this he could not go. +The human mind has limits.</p> + +<p>Afterwards, in the chill hour of darkness and solitude, +Michael's words would come back to him: 'Do you think you +ought to marry her, Blake? Do you think you ought to marry +her?'</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">{341}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVII</h2> + +<h3>'I SHALL NEVER BE FREE'</h3> + +<table summary="quotation"> +<tr><td> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse">'But there are true hearts which the sight</div> +<div class="vind2">Of sorrow summons forth;</div> +<div class="verse">Though known in days of past delight,</div> +<div class="vind2">We know not half their worth.'</div> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<div class="sign"><span class="smcap">Bayly.</span></div> +</div> +</td></tr> +</table> + + +<p>The words escaped from Michael almost unconsciously; he +hardly knew that he spoke them aloud; but in his inner consciousness +he had no doubt at all of the course that ought to be +pursued. If he had been in Cyril's place he would not have +hesitated for a moment. Dearly as he loved Audrey—and +what that love was only he himself knew—he would have +refused to marry her. He would have separated himself from +her utterly, and at once.</p> + +<p>Michael's strong, long-suffering nature would have carried +him nobly through such an ordeal. He was a man who would +have acted up to the spirit of the Gospel command 'to pluck +out the offending eye, or to cut off the right hand;' there +would have been no parleying, no weak dalliance with temptation.</p> + +<p>'I love you, but it is my duty to leave you, so farewell for +ever!'—that is what he would have said to her, knowing +all the time that life would be utterly joyless to him. Would +Cyril, in his hot, untried youth, be capable of a like generosity, +or would he cleave to his betrothed with passionate, one-sided +fealty, vowing that nothing on earth should separate them as +long as they two loved each other?</p> + +<p>'They will make her give me up!'—that was all he had +said. That seemed to be the one deadly terror that assailed +him.</p> + +<p>Cyril had turned away with a groan when Michael spoke,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">{342}</a></span> +but he made no audible answer, and the next moment his hand +was on the door.</p> + +<p>'Where are you going, Blake?' inquired Michael anxiously.</p> + +<p>It was impossible to keep him, and yet, how could he let +him leave him in such a condition?</p> + +<p>'I must get away from here!' returned Cyril hoarsely. 'I +must be alone somewhere.'</p> + +<p>And Michael understood him.</p> + +<p>'Let me at least walk with you,' he returned quickly. 'You +might meet someone, and perhaps I may be of use. Do not +refuse; I will not speak to you.' And, as Cyril made no +objection—indeed, it was doubtful whether he even heard what +Michael said—he followed him downstairs.</p> + +<p>Just as they reached the hall the drawing-room door opened, +and, before he could warn Cyril, Audrey came out. She had +some music in her hand. She uttered an exclamation of surprise +and pleasure when she saw them.</p> + +<p>'Michael, I thought you were lost. What have you been +doing with yourself all day? Were you going out with Cyril? +Please don't go just yet; it is just beginning to rain, and I +want him to practise this duet with me. Will you?' looking +up in Cyril's face with one of her bright smiles.</p> + +<p>'I cannot; another time. Please do not keep me!'</p> + +<p>Cyril hardly knew what he said. He pushed by her as she +stood there smiling, with the music in her hand, and went out +bareheaded into the rain and darkness.</p> + +<p>Audrey looked bewildered.</p> + +<p>'What does he mean? Is he ill? has anything happened? +He is so white, and he has forgotten his hat! He has never +left me like this before. Oh, Michael, do call him back; I +must speak to him!'</p> + +<p>'I cannot. I think something is troubling him. Let me +go, Audrey; he will tell you everything by and by.' And +Michael snatched up his hat and Cyril's, and hurried after him +as fast as his halting gait permitted.</p> + +<p>Cyril had not gone far; he was standing by the gate quite +motionless, and his hair and face were wet with the heavy rain. +Michael took him by the arm and walked on with him; he +must see him safely to his room, and charge Mrs. Blake not to +go near him.</p> + +<p>'He must have time; he is simply stunned and incapable +of thought now,' he said to himself, as he piloted him through +the dark, wet streets.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">{343}</a></span></p> + +<p>Biddy admitted them. She gave them a searching glance +as they entered. Cyril's disordered condition must have told +her everything, for she put her wrinkled, claw-like hand on his +arm with a warning gesture.</p> + +<p>'Don't let the mistress see you like that, Mr. Cyril avick, +or you'll fright her to death. Go up softly, or she will hear +you.'</p> + +<p>But Biddy's warning was in vain. The staircase was badly +lighted, and Michael made a false, stumbling step. The next +moment Mrs. Blake came out on the landing. The sight of the +two men together seemed to transfix her with horror.</p> + +<p>'You have told him!—oh, heavens! you have told him!' +she cried, in a despairing voice.</p> + +<p>Cyril raised his heavy eyes and looked at her, but he did +not speak; he passed her as he had passed Audrey, and went +up to his room, and they heard the door close heavily behind +him.</p> + +<p>'I will go to him! How dare you detain me, Captain +Burnett? I will go to my son!'</p> + +<p>But Michael took no notice of this angry remonstrance; his +hand was on her arm, and very gently, but firmly, he made her +enter the drawing-room.</p> + +<p>'Mrs. Blake, will you listen to me for a moment?'</p> + +<p>'No, I will not listen!' she answered passionately, and her +bosom began to heave. 'I will go to him and make him speak +to me. Did you see how he looked at me—his mother—as he +has never looked at me in his life?' And the unhappy woman +broke into tears and sobs. 'Oh, my boy! my boy! Let me +go to him, Captain Burnett, and I will bless you as long as I +live; let me go and kneel to him, if I must. Do you think my +boy will see his mother at his feet and not forgive her?'</p> + +<p>'He will forgive you, Mrs. Blake,' returned Michael, in a +pitying voice; 'but you must give him time. He cannot +speak to you now—he can speak to no one; he is simply +stunned. Give me your promise that you will not see him to-night.'</p> + +<p>'Impossible! I will make no such promise. He is my son, +not yours. If he cannot speak to me, I can at least take his +hand and tell him that I am sorry.'</p> + +<p>'He will not be able to hear you. As far as I can tell, he +has taken nothing in; the news has simply crushed him. If +you will give him time, he will pull himself together; but I +would not answer for the consequences if you persist in seeing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">{344}</a></span> +him to-night. He is not himself. There would be words said +that ought never to be uttered. Mrs. Blake, do be persuaded. +I am speaking for your sake as well as his.'</p> + +<p>'You are always so hard,' she moaned.</p> + +<p>But from her manner he thought she would not disobey +him; he had managed to frighten her.</p> + +<p>'You will be wise if you take my advice,' he returned, +moving away from the door. 'I am going to him now, but I +shall not stay; it is, above all things, necessary that he should +be alone.'</p> + +<p>'Will you speak to him for me? Will you tell him that +my heart is nearly broken with that cold, reproachful look of +his? Will you at least say this, Captain Burnett?'</p> + +<p>'I think it would be better not to mention your name to +him to-night.'</p> + +<p>Then she threw herself back on the couch in a hysterical +outburst.</p> + +<p>Michael thought it useless to stay with her. He found +Biddy outside as usual, and sent her in to do her best for her +mistress; and then he went up to Cyril's room. He found him +sitting on the edge of his bed; the window was wide open, and +the rain was driving in, and had already wetted the carpet; a +candle someone had lighted was guttering in the draught. +Michael closed the window, and then he looked at the fireplace. +There was plenty of fuel at hand. Cyril often worked in his +own room, and now and then his mother's care had provided +him with a fire. The room felt cold and damp. There were +matches at hand, and Michael had no scruple in lighting a fire +now; the crackle of wood seemed to rouse Cyril.</p> + +<p>'Why do you do that? there is no need,' he said irritably.</p> + +<p>'Pardon me, there is every need. Do you know your coat +is wet, Blake? You must change it at once.'</p> + +<p>But Cyril only gave an impatient shrug.</p> + +<p>'Will you let me see you change it before I go?' he +persisted, and he actually had his way, perhaps because +Cyril was anxious to get rid of him. 'Now I am going; I +only want to say one word, Blake: you will be safe to-night, +your mother will not come near you.' Then a look of relief +crossed Cyril's wan face. 'You shall, at least, have peace for a +few hours. If I can help you in any way, you have only to +speak. Will you remember that?'</p> + +<p>'Thank you.'</p> + +<p>'I mean it. There, that is all I have got to say. God<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">{345}</a></span> +bless you!' and as he grasped Cyril's hand there was a faint +response.</p> + +<p>Michael crept down as softly as he could. As he passed +the drawing-room door he could hear Mrs. Blake's hysterical +sobs, and Biddy soothing her. 'The Nemesis has come,' he +said to himself; and then he went into the lower room, where +he found Mollie and Kester reading over the fire.</p> + +<p>'Don't let me disturb you,' he said hurriedly, as they both +sprang up to greet him; 'Mollie, your brother wishes to be +quiet to-night. He has just heard something that troubles him +a good deal, and he has desired that no one should go near him. +If I were you, I should take no notice at all.'</p> + +<p>'But what are we to do about supper?' returned Mollie +with housewifely anxiety; 'we have such a nice supper, and +Cyril will be so cold and hungry shut up in his room. We +have made such a big fire, because he was going to spend the +evening with us.'</p> + +<p>'He has a fire, too; he was very wet, and the room felt +damp, so I lighted it. You might take up a tray to him +presently and put it outside his door, and perhaps a cup of nice +hot coffee.'</p> + +<p>'Ah! I will go and make it at once, and mamma shall +have some, too.' And Mollie ran off in her usual impetuous +manner, but Kester sat still in his place.</p> + +<p>'What is the matter, Captain Burnett?' he asked anxiously; +'we heard mother crying just now, and saying that Cyril +would not speak to her. Mollie heard it quite plainly, and so +did I.'</p> + +<p>'You shall know all in good time, my dear boy,' returned +Michael, laying his hand on Kester's shoulder; 'do not ask me +any more just now.'</p> + +<p>Kester looked at him wistfully, but he was trained to +self-discipline, and he asked no more; and Michael went back +to Woodcote.</p> + +<p>It was just dinner-time, and the gong sounded before he was +ready; but he made some easy excuse and slipped into his +place, and began to talk to Dr. Ross about the new swimming-baths +that were being built. It was the first topic that came +handy to him, and Dr. Ross at once followed his lead; the +subject lasted them until the end of dinner. Audrey was unusually +silent, but neither of them made any remark on her +gravity. Now and then Michael addressed some observation +to her, but she answered him briefly and without interest.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">{346}</a></span></p> + +<p>They went into the schoolroom for prayers as usual, and +Audrey played the harmonium; but as he was following Mrs. +Ross back into the drawing-room, Audrey tapped him on the +arm.</p> + +<p>'Don't go in there just yet, Michael; I want to speak to +you.'</p> + +<p>Then he suffered himself very reluctantly to be detained by +the hall fire.</p> + +<p>'Michael,' she began, in rather a peremptory tone, 'I cannot +understand either you or Cyril to-night. You are both very +strange, I think. Cyril leaves me without a word, and goes +out looking like a ghost, and you tell me that something is +troubling him, and yet neither of you vouchsafes me one word of +explanation.'</p> + +<p>'I cannot help it, Audrey; it is not my affair. Blake was +in a hurry; you must have seen that for yourself.'</p> + +<p>'He was very extraordinary in his behaviour, and so were +you. Of course, if you don't choose to answer me, Michael, I +will just send a note across to Cyril, and tell him I must see +him at once.'</p> + +<p>'I should hardly do that, if I were you.'</p> + +<p>'Not write to him!' in an offended voice. 'Really, Michael, +you are too mysterious; why, this borders on absurdity! Cyril +is in trouble—in one breath you tell me that—and then you +would prevent my writing to ask him to come to me! I shall +certainly write to him.'</p> + +<p>'Will you go to your father instead? He has just gone into +the study.'</p> + +<p>Then Audrey looked at him with intense astonishment.</p> + +<p>'What has my father got to do with it?'</p> + +<p>'Never mind all that,' returned Michael slowly. 'Go to +Dr. Ross, and ask him why Blake is in trouble. He will tell +you; you may take my word for it.'</p> + +<p>Audrey still gazed at him; but Michael's grave manner left +her in no doubt as to the seriousness of the matter, and her eyes +looked a little troubled.</p> + +<p>'Go, dear,' he repeated gently; 'it will be best for you to +hear it from him.'</p> + +<p>Then she left him without another word, and went straight +to the study.</p> + +<p>It seemed as though her father expected her, for he looked +at her as she came slowly towards him, and put out his hand.</p> + +<p>'You have come to talk to me, my darling. Sit down beside<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">{347}</a></span> +me. No, not that chair; it is too far off. Come closer to me, +my child.'</p> + +<p>Then, as Audrey obeyed him, she felt a sense of growing +uneasiness. What did that sorrowful tenderness in her +father's voice mean? For the moment her courage failed her, +and her lips could not frame the question she had come to +ask.</p> + +<p>'You want me to tell you about Cyril's trouble?'</p> + +<p>Then she sat and gazed at him in speechless dread.</p> + +<p>Dr. Ross cleared his throat and shifted his spectacles. He +began to find his task difficult.</p> + +<p>'If I only knew how to prepare you, Audrey! But I can +think of no words that will break the force of such a shock. I +will tell you one thing: a few hours ago Cyril was as ignorant +of the great trouble that has befallen him as you are at this +present moment.'</p> + +<p>She touched him with a hand that had grown suddenly very +cold.</p> + +<p>'Wait for one minute, father; I must ask you something: +Did Michael tell this thing to Cyril this afternoon?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, dear. By some strange chance Michael was put in +possession of a terrible secret. There was no one else to break +it to the poor fellow, and, as you and I know, Mike is not the +man to shirk any unpleasant duty.'</p> + +<p>'I understand. You may go on now, father dear; I am +prepared—I am quite prepared. I know it was no light trouble +that brought that look on Cyril's face; and Michael, too, was +very strange and unlike himself.' And then she composed herself +to listen.</p> + +<p>Dr. Ross told the story as carefully as he could, but he +made no attempt to soften facts. A skilful surgeon cuts deep: +the patient may quiver under the relentless knife, but the +present pain will prevent lasting injury. Dr. Ross wished his +daughter to see things from his point of view. It was impossible +to spare her suffering; but she was young, and he hoped time +and her own strong sense of duty would bring their own healing. +He could not judge of the effect on her. Almost at his first +words she had dropped her head upon his knees, and her face +was hidden from him; and though his hand rested on her soft +hair, she made no sign or movement.</p> + +<p>'That is all I have to tell you, my darling. No one knows +but you and I and Michael. I have not told your mother; I +thought it best to wait.' Then she stirred a little uneasily<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">{348}</a></span> +under his caressing hand. 'My own child, you do not need to +be told how I grieve for you and Cyril; it is a bitter disappointment +to you both; but—but'—his voice dropped a little—'you +must give him up.'</p> + +<p>There was no perceptible start; only, as he said this, Audrey +raised her face from his knee, and looked at him. She was +very pale, but her eyes were quite dry; only the firm, beautiful +lips trembled a little.</p> + +<p>'I do not understand, father. Why must I give him +up?'</p> + +<p>'Why?' Dr. Ross could hardly believe his ears as he heard +this. 'My child,' he said, with a touch of sternness, 'it is +very easy to understand. Cyril is not to blame—he is as +innocent as you are; but the son of Matthew O'Brien can never +be my son-in-law.'</p> + +<p>'No,' she returned slowly, 'I suppose not. I ought not to +be surprised to hear you say that.'</p> + +<p>'It is what any father would say, Audrey.'</p> + +<p>'Anyhow, it is for you to say it, if you think it right, and it +is for me to obey you.'</p> + +<p>Then he put his arm round her with an endearing word or +two. She was his good, obedient child—his dearly-loved +daughter, who had never grieved him in her life.</p> + +<p>'I trust I may never grieve you,' she replied gently; but +there was a great solemnity in her eyes. 'Father, if you tell +me that I must not marry Cyril, I shall be compelled to obey +you; but it will break my heart to think that your mind is +fully made up on this point.'</p> + +<p>'My darling, you are both very young, and in time——' +He stopped, arrested by the strangeness of her look.</p> + +<p>'You think that we shall get over it: that is your meaning, +is it not? But I am afraid you are wrong. Cyril loves me too +well; he would never get over it.'</p> + +<p>'But, my dear——'</p> + +<p>'Father, will you listen to me for a moment? You need +not fear that I should ever disobey you—you are my father, and +that is enough. But I shall live in the hope that you will +change your mind.'</p> + +<p>'My child, I must forbid that hope. I cannot let you cheat +yourself with any such false supposition. My mind will know +no change in this matter.'</p> + +<p>'Then, in that case, I shall never marry Cyril. If you cannot +give me your blessing on my marriage, I will remain as I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">{349}</a></span> +am—Audrey Ross. But, father, I shall never give him up! +Never—never!'</p> + +<p>'If Cyril be the man I think him, he will give you up, +Audrey; he will be far too proud and honourable to hold you to +your engagement.'</p> + +<p>'That may be,' she answered a little wearily. 'I know the +strong pressure that will be put on him. You will have no +difficulty with him; he will do as you wish. My poor Cyril! +how can he do otherwise? But all the same, I shall be true to +him as long as he and I live. I shall feel that I belong to him.'</p> + +<p>'But, my darling, do be sensible. When the engagement is +broken off you will be free, utterly free.'</p> + +<p>But she shook her head.</p> + +<p>'I shall never be free while Cyril lives. Father, you do not +understand. He may set me free to-morrow, but I shall still +consider myself bound. When he comes here, I shall tell him +so, and I do not think he will misunderstand me.'</p> + +<p>Dr. Ross sighed. Here was an unexpected difficulty. She +would obey him, but she would regard herself as the victim of +filial obedience. She would not marry her lover without his +consent, but she would have nothing to say to any other man. +She would consider herself fettered by this hopeless betrothal. +He had declined to accept the son of Matthew O'Brien as his +son-in-law; but would not his own death set her free to fulfil +her engagement? Dr. Ross groaned within himself as he +thought of this. If only he could bring her to reason; but at +his first word of pleading her eyes filled with tears.</p> + +<p>'Father, I can bear no more; you have made me very +unhappy. I have promised not to marry without your consent; +but no one on earth could make me give him up.'</p> + +<p>Then he looked at her very sorrowfully, and said no more. +If she had thrown herself into his arms he could almost have +wept with her. Would she ever know how his heart bled for +her? But she only kissed him very quietly.</p> + +<p>'You are not angry with me, father?'</p> + +<p>'Angry with you? Oh, Audrey, my child, how can you ask +such a question?'</p> + +<p>'That is well,' she returned calmly. 'There must never be +anything between us. I could not bear that.' Then her breast +heaved a little, and a large tear stole down her face. 'Will +you tell mother and Michael what I have said—that I will +never give him up?'</p> + +<p>And then she walked very slowly out of the room.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">{350}</a></span></p> + +<p>Half an hour later Michael came into the study. He did +not speak; but the Doctor shook his head as he came silently +towards him.</p> + +<p>'It is a bad business, Mike. That girl of mine will give us +trouble. She is as good as gold, but she will give us trouble.'</p> + +<p>'She refuses to give him up?'</p> + +<p>Michael sat down as he asked the question; his strength +seemed to have deserted him.</p> + +<p>'That is what she says—that she will regard herself as +altogether bound to him. She is very firm. With all her +goodness and sweetness, Audrey has a strong will.'</p> + +<p>'Do you mean that she will still marry him?'</p> + +<p>'Not unless I will give my consent. No, Mike; she is a +dutiful child. She will never give herself to any man without +her parents' blessing and approval; but she will not marry +anyone else.'</p> + +<p>Then there was a curious fixed look on Michael's face.</p> + +<p>'I am not surprised, Dr. Ross. Audrey is too generous to +forsake any man when he is in trouble. She will not think of +herself—she never does; her whole heart will be set on the +thought of giving him comfort. You must not try to change +her resolution. It would be useless.'</p> + +<p>'The deuce take it all!' returned the Doctor irritably. +'For there will be no peace of mind for any of us, Mike.' But +Dr. Ross's voice was hardly as clear as usual. 'I suppose I +must just go and have it all out with Emmie—there is nothing +like getting an unpleasant job over; she and Geraldine can put +their heads together, but they had better keep Harcourt away +from me.'</p> + +<p>And the Doctor stalked out of the room with an unwonted +gloom on his genial face.</p> + +<p>Michael did not follow him. He sat still for a few minutes +looking at the Doctor's empty chair.</p> + +<p>'I knew it; I could have said it. Audrey is just that sort +of woman. She will never give him up—whether she loves +him or not—as long as she feels he needs her. Poor Blake! +poor fellow! Of the two, I hardly think he is the one to be +pitied; but she will never find that out for herself. Never, +never!'</p> + +<p>And then Booty scratched and whined at the door, and he +got up and let him in.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">{351}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVIII</h2> + +<h3>'WHO WILL COMFORT HIM?'</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>'Earth has nothing more tender than a woman's heart, when it is the +abode of piety.'—<span class="smcap">Luther.</span></p></div> + + +<p>Dr. Ross had deferred telling his wife for more than one reason: +he dreaded the effect on her emotional nature, and, above all +things, he hated a scene. But for once he was agreeably disappointed. +Mrs. Ross received the news more quietly than he +expected; the very suddenness and force of the shock made +her summon up all her womanly fortitude to bear such an overwhelming +misfortune. Her first thought was for Audrey, and +she would have gone to her at once; but her husband gently +detained her.</p> + +<p>'Give her time, Emmie; she has only just left me, and she +will not be ready even for her mother. Sit down again, my +dear; I cannot spare you yet.' And Mrs. Ross very reluctantly +took her seat again on the couch.</p> + +<p>They talked a little more, and Mrs. Ross wept as she thought +of that poor dear boy, as she called him; for Cyril had grown +very dear to her, and she had begun to look on him as her own +son. But it seemed as though the whole vial of her wrath was +to be emptied on the head of Mrs. Blake. At any other time, +and in different circumstances, Dr. Ross would have been +amused at the scathing invectives that were uttered by his sweet-tempered +wife.</p> + +<p>'But, my dear Emmie, you must consider her provocations. +Think of a woman being tied to a feckless ne'er-do-well like +Matthew O'Brien!'</p> + +<p>'Don't talk to me, John; I will not listen to you. Was +she not his wedded wife, and the mother of his children? Had +she not vowed to be faithful to him for better and for worse?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, my dear; but you must allow it was for worse.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">{352}</a></span></p> + +<p>'That may be; but she was bound to him all the same by +her wifely duty. She might have saved him, but instead of +that she has been his ruin. How dare any woman rob her +husband of his own children, and forbid him to lay claim to +them? She is a false, perjured wife!' exclaimed Mrs. Ross, +with rising excitement.</p> + +<p>'My dear, I am not defending her; but at least she is to be +pitied now.'</p> + +<p>'I do not think so. It is Cyril and Kester and Mollie who +are to be pitied, for having such parents. My heart bleeds for +them, but not for her. What will become of them all? How +will that poor boy bear his life?'</p> + +<p>'I do not know. But, Emmie, tell me one thing—you agree +with me that Audrey must not marry him?'</p> + +<p>'Of course she must not marry him! What would Geraldine +and Percival say?'</p> + +<p>Then the Doctor muttered 'Pshaw!'</p> + +<p>'Why, his name is not Blake at all. How could a daughter +of ours form a connection with the O'Briens? My poor Audrey! +And now, John, you must let me go to her.' And this time +Dr. Ross made no objection.</p> + +<p>It was nearly midnight by this time, but Audrey had not +thought of retiring to bed; she was sitting by her toilet-table, +with her hands folded in her lap. Her mother's appearance +seemed to surprise her.</p> + +<p>'Dear mother, why have you come? There was no need—no +need at all.'</p> + +<p>Then, as her mother put her arms round her, she laid her +head on her shoulder as though she were conscious of sudden +weariness. Mrs. Ross's eyes were red with weeping, but Audrey's +were still quite bright and dry.</p> + +<p>'Mother dear, you will be so tired!'</p> + +<p>'What does that matter? It is your father who is tired; he +feels all this so terribly. My own darling, what am I to say to +you in this awful trouble that has come upon you, but to beg +you to be brave for all our sakes?'</p> + +<p>'Yes; and for his, too.'</p> + +<p>'If I could only bear it for you—that is what a mother feels +when her child suffers—if I could only take it from you, and +carry it as my own burden!'</p> + +<p>Then the girl gently pressed her with her arms.</p> + +<p>'That is what I feel about him,' she returned, and there was +a pained look in her eyes as she spoke. 'He is so young, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">{353}</a></span> +all this is so terrible; his pride will suffer, and his heart, and +his mother will be no comfort to him. If he only had you!' +And then she did break down a little, but she soon recovered +herself. 'I have been sitting here trying to find out why this +has been allowed to happen to him. I think there is no one +so good, except Michael. It is very dreadful!' And here she +shuddered slightly. 'How will he live out his daily life and +not grow bitter over it? My poor, poor Cyril!'</p> + +<p>'My darling, are you not thinking of yourself at all?'</p> + +<p>'Of myself? No, mother. Why should I think of myself? +I have you and father and Michael—you will all comfort me; +but who will comfort him?'</p> + +<p>'His Heavenly Father, Audrey.'</p> + +<p>'Oh yes, you are right; but do young men think as we do? +Cyril is good, but he never speaks of these things. He is not +like Michael.'</p> + +<p>'It was trouble that taught Michael.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, I know; but I would fain have spared my poor Cyril +such a bitter lesson. Mother, I want you to tell them all not +to talk to me—I mean Michael and Gage and Percival; I could +not bear it. As I told father, I shall never give him up. If he +goes away, I must bid him good-bye; but if he will write to me +I shall answer his letters.'</p> + +<p>'I do not think your father would approve of that, Audrey. +My child, consider—would it not be better, and more for Cyril's +good, that you should give him up entirely?'</p> + +<p>'No, mother; I do not think so. I believe in my heart +that the knowledge that I am still true to him will be his only +earthly comfort. No one knows him as I do; his nature is +very intense. He is almost as intense as Michael, and that is +saying a great deal.'</p> + +<p>'My love, will you let your mother say one thing to you?—that +I think you are making a grievous mistake, and that your +father thinks so too.'</p> + +<p>'I know it, mother, and it pains me to differ from you both +in this; but you will never convince me. I plighted my troth +to Cyril because I loved him dearly, and nothing will change +that love. It is quite true,' she continued dreamily, as though +she were following out some train of habitual thought, 'that I +have often asked myself if I loved him in the same way in which +other girls cared for their lovers—as Gage did for Percival, for +example—if mine were not too quiet and matter-of-fact an attachment; +and I have never been able to answer myself satisfactorily.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">{354}</a></span></p> + +<p>'Have you not, Audrey?'</p> + +<p>'No, mother dear; but of course this is in confidence: it +must be sacred to you and me. I think I am different from most +girls. I have never wished to be married; and dear as Cyril +is to me, the thought of my wedding-day has always oppressed +me. I have made him unhappy sometimes, because he saw +that I shrank from it.'</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ross felt a quick sense of relief that almost amounted +to joy. Was Audrey in love with him, after all? She had +never heard a girl talk so strangely. What an unutterable +blessing it would be to them all if she were not utterly crushed +by her misfortune, and if any future healing would be possible; +but she was careful not to express this to her daughter.</p> + +<p>'My experience has been very different,' she answered quietly. +'My happiest moments were those in which your dear father +spoke of our future home. I think I was quite as averse to a +long engagement as he was.'</p> + +<p>'I can believe it, mother dear, but our natures are not alike; +but there is one thing on which we are agreed, that an engagement +is almost as binding as marriage; that is,' correcting herself, +'as long as two persons love each other.'</p> + +<p>'It ought not to be binding under such circumstances, Audrey.'</p> + +<p>'Ought it not? Ah, there we differ! With all my want of +enthusiasm, my absence of sentimentality, I shall hold fast +to Cyril. I have never yet regarded myself as his wife; I did +not wish to so regard myself. But now I shall give myself up +in thought wholly to him, and I pray God that this knowledge +will give him comfort.'</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ross was silent. She felt that she hardly understood +her daughter; it was as though she had entered on higher +ground, where the wrappings of some sacred mist enveloped her. +This was not the language of earthly passion—this sublime +womanly abnegation. It was not even the tender language of +a Ruth, widowed in her affections, and cleaving with bounteous +love and faith to the mother of her young Jewish husband, +'Whither thou goest I will go;' and yet the inward cry of her +heart seemed to be like that of honest Tom O'Brien: 'The +Lord do so unto me, and more also, if ought but death part me +and thee.'</p> + +<p>The one thought wholly possessed her that she might give +him comfort.</p> + +<p>'My poor, dear child, if I could only make you feel differently!'</p> + +<p>Then Audrey laid her hand gently on her mother's lips. It<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">{355}</a></span> +was an old habit of hers when she was a child, and too much +argument had proved wearisome.</p> + +<p>'Hush! do not let us talk any more. I am so tired, so tired, +mother, and I know you are, too.'</p> + +<p>'Will you let me stay with you, darling?'</p> + +<p>Then Audrey looked at her trim little bed, and then at her +mother, and smiled.</p> + +<p>'There is no room. What can you mean, mother dear? and +I am not ill; I am never ill, am I?'</p> + +<p>'Thank God at least for that; but you are worse than ill—you +are unhappy, my dear. Will you let me help you to +undress, and then sit by you until you feel you can sleep?'</p> + +<p>But Audrey only shook her head with another smile.</p> + +<p>'There is no need. Kiss me, mother, and bid me good-night. +I shall like to be with my own self in the darkness. There, +another kiss; now go, or we shall both be frozen;' and Audrey +gently pushed her to the door.</p> + +<p>'She would not let me stop with her, John!' exclaimed +Mrs. Ross, as she entered her husband's dressing-room. 'She +is very calm: unnaturally so, I thought; she hardly cried at +all; she is thinking nothing of herself, only of him.'</p> + +<p>'Do you know it is one o'clock, Emmie?' returned her +husband rather shortly. He was tired and sore, poor man, and +in no mood to hear of his daughter's sufferings. 'The deuce +take the woman!' he said to himself fretfully, as Mrs. Ross +meekly turned away without another word; but he was certainly +not alluding to his wife when he spoke. 'From the days of +Eve they have always been in some mischief or other'—from +which it may be deduced that Mrs. Ross was not so far wrong +when she thought her husband was threatened with gout, only +his <i>malaise</i> was more of the mind. He was thinking of the +interview that awaited him on the morrow. 'I would as lief +cut off my right hand as tell him that he must not have Audrey,' +he said to himself, as he laid his head on the pillow.</p> + +<p>Now, as Michael lay awake through the dark hours revolving +many things in his uneasy brain, it occurred to him that he +would send a note across to Cyril as soon as he heard the household +stirring, and he carried out this resolution in spite of +drowsiness and an aching head.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>'<span class="smcap">My Dear Blake</span>,' he wrote,</p> + +<p>'Don't bother yourself about early school. I am on +the spot, and can easily take your place. You will want to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">{356}</a></span> +pull yourself together, and under the circumstances the boys +would be an awful nuisance. I hope you have got some sleep.</p> + +<p class="signlet">'Yours,</p> + +<p class="sign">'<span class="smcap">M. O. Burnett.</span>'</p> +</div> + +<p>To this came the following reply, scrawled on a half-sheet +of paper:</p> + +<p>'Thanks awfully; will accept your offer. Please tell Dr. +Ross that I will come across to him soon after ten.'</p> + +<p>'Poor beggar! he is awake now, and pulling himself +together with a vengeance. This looks well; now for the +grind.'</p> + +<p>And Michael went down to the schoolroom and gave Cyril's +class their divinity lesson with as much coolness and gravity +as though his whole life had been spent in teaching boys.</p> + +<p>Dr. Ross winced slightly as he gave him Cyril's message +after breakfast, but he said, a moment afterwards: 'I intended +sending for him; but I am glad he has saved me the trouble—only +I wish it were over, Mike.'</p> + +<p>Michael shrugged his shoulders with a look of sympathy. +He had no time to say more; he must take Cyril's place in the +schoolroom again, in spite of all Booty's shivering solicitations +for a walk this fine morning. 'Booty, old fellow,' he observed, +as he noticed the little animal's manifest disappointment, 'you +and I are not sent into the world to please ourselves; there +are "still lame dogs to help over stiles," and a few burdens +to shift on our own shoulders. If our head ache, what of +that, Booty? It will be the same a hundred years hence. +Now for Greek verbs and general discord, so right about face!' +And if Booty did not understand this harangue, he certainly +acted up to the spirit of it, for he pattered cheerfully after his +master to the schoolroom, and curled himself up into a compact +brown ball at his feet, to doze away the morning in doggish +dreams.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, Dr. Ross made a feint of reading his letters; +but he found as he laid them down that their contents were +hopelessly involved. Was it Rawlinson, for example, whom +an anxious mother was confiding to his care? 'He had the +measles last holidays, and has been very delicate ever since, +and now this severe cold——' Nonsense! It was not Rawlinson, +it was Jackson minor, and he was all right and had eaten +an excellent breakfast; but he thought Major Sowerby's letter +ought to be answered at once. He never allowed parents to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">{357}</a></span> +break his rules; it was such nonsense sending for Charlie +home, just because an uncle had come from India. He must +write and remonstrate; the boy must wait until the term was +over—it would only be a fortnight. And then he read the +letter again with growing displeasure, and found that Captain +MacDonald was the name of the erring parent.</p> + +<p>'I will settle all that,' he remarked, as he plunged his pen +rather savagely into the inkstand; and then a tap at the door +made him start, and a huge blot was the result. Of course it +was Cyril, who was standing at the door looking at him.</p> + +<p>'Are you disengaged, Dr. Ross?'</p> + +<p>'Yes—yes. Come in, my dear fellow, and shut the door.'</p> + +<p>And then Dr. Ross jumped up from his seat and grasped +the young man's hand; but his first thought was, What would +Audrey say when she saw him? Could one night have effected +such a change? There was a wanness, a heaviness of aspect, +that made him look ten years older. Somehow Dr. Ross +found it necessary to take off his spectacles and wipe them +before he commenced the conversation.</p> + +<p>'My poor boy, what am I to say to you?'</p> + +<p>'Say nothing, sir; it would be far better. I have come——' Here +Cyril paused; the dryness of his lips seemed to +impede his utterance. 'I have come to know your wishes.'</p> + +<p>'My wishes!' repeated Dr. Ross in a pained voice; and +then he put his hand on his shoulder: 'Cyril, do not misjudge +me, do not think me hard if you can help it, but I cannot give +you my daughter.'</p> + +<p>He had expected that Cyril would have wrenched himself +free from his detaining hand as he heard him, but to his +surprise he remained absolutely motionless.</p> + +<p>'I know it, Dr. Ross. There was no need to tell me that—nothing +would induce me to marry her.'</p> + +<p>Then the Doctor felt as though he could have embraced +him.</p> + +<p>'Why should you think so meanly of me,' went on Cyril in +the same heavy, monotonous voice, as though he were repeating +some lesson that he had carefully conned and got by heart, 'as +to suppose that I should take advantage of her promise and +yours? If you will let me see her, I will tell her so. Do you +think I would drag her down to my level—mine?'</p> + +<p>'You are acting nobly.'</p> + +<p>'I am acting as necessity compels me,' returned Cyril with +uncontrollable bitterness. 'Do you think I would give her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">{358}</a></span> +up, even at your command, Dr. Ross, if I dared to keep her? +But I dare not—I dare not!'</p> + +<p>'Cyril, for my peace of mind, tell me this one thing—have +I ever been unjust to you in all our relations together?'</p> + +<p>'No, Dr. Ross. I have never met with anything but +kindness from you and yours.'</p> + +<p>'When you came to me five months ago and told me you +loved my daughter, did I repulse you?'</p> + +<p>Then Cyril shook his head.</p> + +<p>'But I was very frank with you. I told you even then that +I had a right to look higher for my son-in-law, but that, as +you seemed necessary to my girl's happiness, your poverty and +lack of influence should not stand in your way. When I said +this, Cyril, when I stretched out the right hand of fellowship +to you, I meant every word that I said. I was teaching +myself to regard you as a son; as far as any man could do such +a thing, I intended to take your future under my care. In all +this I did you no wrong.'</p> + +<p>'You have never wronged me, sir,' and with a low but +distinct emphasis: 'God forbid that I should wrong either you +or her.'</p> + +<p>'No! My heart was always full of kindness to you. +Young as you were—young in years and in work—you had +won my entire respect and esteem. I thank you, Cyril—I +thank you in my own and in my wife's name—that I can +respect you as highly as ever.'</p> + +<p>Dr. Ross's voice faltered with emotion, and the hand that +still lay on Cyril's shoulder trembled visibly; but there was no +answering gleam of emotion on the young man's face.</p> + +<p>'You mean it kindly, Dr. Ross, but I have not deserved +this praise.' He spoke coldly, proudly. 'Have I an unsullied +name to offer any woman? And even if this difficulty could +be got over, do I not know that my career is over? Would +you—would any other man, do you think—employ me as a +master? I have been facing this question all night, and I +know that, as far as my worldly prospects are concerned, I am +practically ruined.'</p> + +<p>'No, no; you must not say that. There are plenty of +openings for a clever man. You shall have my help. I will +employ my influence; I have powerful friends. We might +find you a secretaryship.'</p> + +<p>'I think a clerkship will be more likely,' returned Cyril, in +the same hard voice, though the pent-up pain threatened to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">{359}</a></span> +suffocate him. 'I may have some difficulty even there; people +like their clerks to be respectably connected, and when one's +father has been in prison——'</p> + +<p>But Dr. Ross would not let him proceed.</p> + +<p>'My poor boy, your father's sin is not yours. No one can +rob you of your self-respect and stainless honour. If it were +not for Audrey, I might even venture to brave public opinion +and keep you myself. It might bring me into trouble with +Charrington, but, as you know, I am my own master. I could +have talked him over and got him to hush it up, and we could +have moved your mother to a little distance. Yes, Cyril, I +would have done it; you should have fought out your battle +at my side, if it were not for my child.'</p> + +<p>'I do not know how to thank you for saying this;' and +Cyril's rigidity relaxed and he spoke more naturally. 'I shall +never forget this, Dr. Ross—never, never! But'—here his +voice shook—'you will let me go—you will not make me stop +when people begin to talk about it? I am no coward, but +there are some things too hard to put on any man; and to do +my work when I see on the boys' faces that they know everything—it +would be the death of me. I could not stand it—no, +by heavens! I could not.'</p> + +<p>'You shall not be asked to bear it. My poor boy, have you +no faith in me? Do you think I should ask you to perform so +cruel, so impossible a duty? From this hour you are free, +Cyril; do not trouble about your work. I can find a substitute, +or, if that fails, I will do your work myself. You are ill—it +will be no falsehood to say that—and in another fortnight the +school will break up. Keep quiet—go away somewhere for a +time, and take Burnett into your confidence; he will be a +better friend for you just now than I.'</p> + +<p>'I doubt it, sir.'</p> + +<p>Then the Doctor's eyes glistened with tears.</p> + +<p>'God help you, my dear fellow! You are doing the right, +and He will. This is not good-bye; I will see you again. +Now go to her, and teach my child to do the right too.' And +then Dr. Ross turned his back upon him rather abruptly, and +walked to the window.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">{360}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXXIX</h2> + +<h3>'YOU WILL LIVE IT DOWN'</h3> + +<table summary="quotation"> +<tr><td> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse">'Sweet the thought, our lives, my love.</div> +<div class="vind2">Parted ne'er may be,</div> +<div class="verse">Though between thy heart and mine</div> +<div class="vind2">Leagues of land and sea.</div> +<div class="sep">******</div> +<div class="verse">Of this twofold life and love,</div> +<div class="vind2">Twofold running fate,</div> +<div class="verse">Sad and lone we may be oft,</div> +<div class="vind2">Never desolate.'</div> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<div class="sign"><span class="smcap">Britton.</span></div> +</div> +</td></tr> +</table> + + +<p>Cyril knew where he should find Audrey; she was generally +in her own little sitting-room until luncheon. Sometimes her +mother or Mollie would be with her, but this morning he felt +instinctively that she would be alone.</p> + +<p>She was sitting by the window, and there was some work +on her lap, but she did not seem to be employing herself. She +had bidden Cyril enter, and directly she saw him she rose from +her seat and crossed the room somewhat quickly to meet him; +but he did not at once speak to her, neither did he offer his +usual greeting.</p> + +<p>She waited for a moment to see what he would do; then +she put up her face to him.</p> + +<p>'Why do you not kiss me, Cyril?' she said, a little reproachfully; +and then he did take her in his arms.</p> + +<p>'It is for the last time!' he murmured, as he pressed her +almost convulsively to him.</p> + +<p>But she made no answer to this; when he had set her free, +she took his hand very quietly, and led him to a seat that stood +beside her chair. His hand was cold, and she kept it in both +her own as though to warm it.</p> + +<p>'I knew you would come to me,' she said very softly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">{361}</a></span> +'How ill you look, my poor Cyril! You have not slept. Oh +yes, I know all about it. And you have been to father, and +you have both made yourselves very miserable. Do you think +I do not know that? Poor father! and he is so tender-hearted.'</p> + +<p>'I tried to spare him,' he returned wearily. 'I did not +wish to put him to any trouble. I must dree my own weird, +Audrey.'</p> + +<p>'But I shall have to dree it too. Cyril, my darling, you +shall not bear your trouble alone; it is far too heavy for you. +As far as we can—as far as our duty permits, we will bear it +together.' And then, as though the haggardness of his young +face was too much for her, she came closer to him, and laid her +head on his shoulder. 'We will bear it together, Cyril.'</p> + +<p>'But, Audrey, my one blessing, that cannot be. Do you +know what I have come to say to you this morning? That +our engagement must be at an end—that you are free, quite +free.'</p> + +<p>'But I do not wish for freedom.'</p> + +<p>'My darling, you ought to wish for it. Under the circumstances, +it is quite impossible that we should ever be married. +I am a ruined man, Audrey; I have lost my good name, my +work, my worldly credit; my connections are disreputable. +By this time you must know that I have a father living, and +that his name——'</p> + +<p>But she gently checked him.</p> + +<p>'Yes, dear, I know all.'</p> + +<p>'And yet you can tell me that you do not desire freedom? +But that is all your goodness, and because you do not wish to +pain me. Audrey, when I tell you that I must give up the +idea of ever calling you my wife, it seems to me as though the +bitterness of death were on me.'</p> + +<p>'My poor Cyril!'</p> + +<p>'Yes, I am poor indeed; I never dreamt of such poverty. +They might have taken from me everything, and I would not +have murmured, if they had only left me my faith in my mother, +and if they had not robbed me of my love!'</p> + +<p>'She is yours still, Cyril. No, do not turn from me; I +mean it—I mean it! If you give me up, if you say to yourself +that our engagement is broken, it must be as you choose, and I +must let you go. No woman can compel a man to remain +bound to her. But the freedom is on your side alone; I neither +ask nor desire to be free.'</p> + +<p>'Darling, darling, what can you mean?'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">{362}</a></span></p> + +<p>'If you say that you will never marry me,' she continued, +with an air of deep sadness, 'I suppose you will keep your +word; perhaps you are right in saying so. I would not marry +you without my father's consent, and he tells me he will never +give it; but, Cyril, you may rest assured of this, that in your +lifetime I will never marry another man.'</p> + +<p>Then he threw himself at her feet, and, taking her hands in +his, begged her for very pity's sake to stop.</p> + +<p>'I love you, Audrey! I think I never loved you before as I +do now! but do you think I would permit such a sacrifice?'</p> + +<p>'How are you to help it?' she returned, with a faint smile +that was very near tears; 'and it would be no sacrifice, as far +as I know my own heart. I think my one wish is to comfort +you, and to make your life a little less dreary, Cyril,' looking +at him earnestly; and it seemed to him as though her face +were like an angel's. 'You will be brave and bear this for my +sake. When you are tempted to lose faith, and hope seems +farthest from you, you must say to yourself: "Audrey has not +deserted me; she is mine still—mine always and for ever!"'</p> + +<p>Then he bowed his head on her hands and wept like a child. +She passed her hand over his hair caressingly, and her own +tears flowed; but after a little while she spoke again:</p> + +<p>'I have told father so, and I have told mother; I said to +both of them that I would never give you up. We may live +apart. Oh yes, I know that it is all very sad and miserable; +but you will let me keep your ring, Cyril, because I still belong +to you.'</p> + +<p>He tried to steady his voice, and failed; all his manhood +could not give him fortitude at such a moment. He could +only clasp her in his arms, and beg her for her own sweet sake +to listen to him.</p> + +<p>And presently, when he was a little stronger, he put it all +before her. He explained to her as well as he could the future +that lay before him; the yoke of his father's sin was on his +neck, and it was useless to try and break it off. He might +call himself Blake, and look for new work in a new place, and +the miserable fact would leak out.</p> + +<p>There is a fatality in such cases, he went on. 'One may +try to hush it up, to live quietly, to attract no notice; but +sooner or later the secret will ooze out. I think I am prouder +than most men—perhaps I am morbid; but I feel I shall never +live down this shame.'</p> + +<p>'You will live it down one day.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">{363}</a></span></p> + +<p>'Yes, the day they put me in my coffin; but not before, +Audrey.' Then, as she turned pale at the thought, he accused +himself bitterly for his selfishness. 'I am making you wretched, +and you are an angel of goodness!' he cried remorsefully. +'But you must forgive me, darling; indeed, I am not myself.'</p> + +<p>'Do you think I do not know that?'</p> + +<p>'A braver man than I might shrink from such a future. +What have I done that such a thing should happen to me? I +loved my work, and now it is taken from me; as far as I know, +I may have to dig for my bread.'</p> + +<p>'No, no!' she returned, holding him fast; for this was more +than she could bear to hear—that the bright promise of his +youth was blasted and destroyed. 'Cyril, if you love me, as +you say you do, will you promise me two things?'</p> + +<p>He looked at her a little doubtfully.</p> + +<p>'If I love you!' he said reproachfully.</p> + +<p>'Then I will alter my sentence, I will say, because of your +love for me, will you grant me these two things? Cyril, you +must forgive your mother. However greatly she has erred, you +must remember that it was for your sake.'</p> + +<p>'I do remember it.'</p> + +<p>'And you will be good to her?'</p> + +<p>Then, his face became very stern.</p> + +<p>'I will do my duty to her. I think I may promise you +that.'</p> + +<p>'Dearest, I do not doubt it. When have you ever failed in +your duty? But I want more than that: you must try so that +your heart may be softer to her; you are her one thought; with +all her faults, I think no mother ever loved her son so well. +It is not the highest love, perhaps, since she has stooped to +deceit and wrong for your sake; but, Cyril, it is not for you to +judge her.'</p> + +<p>'Perhaps not; but how am I to refrain from judging her? +To me truth is the one absolute virtue—the very crown and +chief of virtues. That is why I first loved you, Audrey—because +of your trustworthiness. But now I have lost my +mother—nay, worse, she has never existed!'</p> + +<p>'I do not quite understand you.'</p> + +<p>'Do you think my mother—the mother I believed in—could +have acted this life-long lie? Would she have worn widows' +weeds, and utterly forsworn herself? No; with all her faults, +such crooked ways would have been impossible. Audrey, you +must give me time to become acquainted with this new mother.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">{364}</a></span> +I will not be hard to her, if I can possibly help it; but'—here +the bitterness of his tone betrayed his deep agony—'she can +never be to me again what she has been.'</p> + +<p>'Then I will not press you any more, Cyril. I have such +faith in you, that I believe you will come through even this +ordeal; but there is something more I must ask you: Will you +let Michael be your friend?'</p> + +<p>'We are friends, are we not?' he said, a little bewildered +at this.</p> + +<p>'Ah! but I would have you close friends. Dear, you must +think of me—how unhappy I shall be unless I know you have +someone to stand by you in your trouble. If you would let my +father help you!' But a shake of the head negatived this. +'Well, then, it must be Michael, our good, generous Michael, +who will be like a brother to you.'</p> + +<p>'I do not feel as though any man could help me.'</p> + +<p>'No one but Michael. Dear Cyril, give me my way in +this. We are going to part, remember, and it may be for a +long term of years; but if you value my peace of mind, promise +me that you will not turn from Michael.'</p> + +<p>'Very well; I will promise you that. Have you any more +commands to lay upon me, Audrey?'</p> + +<p>'No,' she returned wistfully; 'be yourself, your true, brave, +honest self, and all may yet be well. Now go! We have said +all that needs to be said, and I must not keep you. You are +free, my dear one; but it is I who am bound, who am still yours +as much as ever. When we shall meet again, God knows; but +in heart and in thought I shall be with you wherever you may +go. Now kiss me, but you need not tell me again it is for the +last time.'</p> + +<p>Then she put her arms round his neck, and for a minute or +two they held each other silently.</p> + +<p>'My blessing, my one blessing!' murmured Cyril hoarsely.</p> + +<p>Then she gently pushed him from her.</p> + +<p>'Yes, your blessing. You may call me that always, if you +will.' And then, still holding his hand, she walked with him +to the door; and as he stood looking at her with that despair +in his eyes, she motioned to him to leave her. 'Go, dearest; +I cannot bear any more.' And then he obeyed her.</p> + +<p class="thoughtbreak">******</p> + +<p>A few hours afterwards her mother found her lying on her +bed, looking very white and spent.</p> + +<p>'Are you ill, Audrey? My dear, your father is so anxious<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">{365}</a></span> +about you, and so is Michael. When you did not appear at +luncheon, they wanted me to go to you at once. Crauford says +you have eaten nothing.'</p> + +<p>'Dear mother, what does that matter? I am quite well, +only so very tired. My strength seemed to desert me all at +once, so I thought I would lie down and keep quiet. But you +must tell father that I am not ill.'</p> + +<p>'I shall tell him how good and brave you are,' returned her +mother, caressing her; 'Audrey, did Crauford tell you that +Geraldine is here?'</p> + +<p>Then a shadow passed over Audrey's pale face.</p> + +<p>'No, mother.'</p> + +<p>'She came up the moment luncheon was over to ask if you +could go with her to Beverley, and of course she saw at once +that something was amiss. Your father took her into the study +and told her himself. She is very much upset. That is why I +have left you so long.'</p> + +<p>'I did not know it was long,' returned Audrey, speaking in +the same tired voice; 'it seems to me only a few minutes since +Crauford took away the tray.'</p> + +<p>'It is nearly four o'clock,' replied Mrs. Ross, looking at her +anxiously—could it be her bright, strong girl who was lying +there so prostrate? 'Geraldine has been here nearly two hours. +She sent her love to you, darling, and wanted so much to know +if she could see you; but I shall tell her you are not fit to see +anyone.'</p> + +<p>'I do not know that,' returned Audrey in a hesitating +manner; 'I was just wishing that I could speak to Michael. +If you had not come up, I think I should have put myself +straight and gone downstairs. I think I may as well see Gage +for a moment; it is better to get things over.'</p> + +<p>'But, Audrey, I am quite sure it would be wiser for you to +keep quiet to-day; you have had such a terrible strain. Everyone +ought to do their best to spare you.'</p> + +<p>'But I do not want to be spared,' returned Audrey, echoing +her mother's sigh; 'so please send Gage to me, and tell her +not to stop too long. Crauford can tell her when tea is ready.' +And then Mrs. Ross left her very reluctantly.</p> + +<p>Geraldine's face was suffused with tears as she sat down +beside the bed and took her sister's hand. Audrey shook her +head at her.</p> + +<p>'Gage, I don't mean to allow this; you and mother are not +to make yourselves miserable on my account.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">{366}</a></span></p> + +<p>'How are we to help it, Audrey?' replied Geraldine with a +sob; 'I have never seen you look so ill in your life, and no +wonder—this unhappy engagement! Oh, what will Percy say +when I tell him?'</p> + +<p>'He will be very shocked, of course. Everyone will be +shocked. Perhaps both he and you will say it serves me right, +because I would not take your advice and have nothing to do +with the Blakes. Gage, I want you to do me one favour: tell +Percival not to talk to me. Give him my love—say anything +you think best—only do not let him speak to me.'</p> + +<p>'He shall not, dearest; I will not let him. But all the +same, he will grieve bitterly. He knows how bad it will be for +you, and how people will talk. I have been telling mother +that you ought to go away until things have blown over a +little.'</p> + +<p>Audrey was silent. This was not the sympathy her sore +heart needed. Geraldine's tact was at fault here; but the +next moment Geraldine said, with manifest effort:</p> + +<p>'Cyril has behaved very well. Father seems very much +impressed with his behaviour; he says that he offered at once +to release you from your engagement.'</p> + +<p>'Yes.'</p> + +<p>'Percy will say he has acted like a gentleman; that is the +highest praise from him. Dear—dearest Audrey, you will not +think that I am not sorry for you both when I say that this is +a great relief to me?'</p> + +<p>'A relief to you that Cyril is free?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, and that you are free too.'</p> + +<p>'Ah, but I am not,' moving restlessly on her pillow. 'There +you are making a mistake, Gage. I thought father would have +told you. I am still engaged to Cyril; I shall always be engaged +to him, although perhaps we shall never be married.'</p> + +<p>'But, Audrey——'</p> + +<p>'Now, Gage, we are not going to argue about it, I hope; +I am far, far too tired, and my mind is made up, as I told +father. I shall never give my poor boy up—never, never!—as +long as he is in the world and needs me.' Then, as she saw +the distress on her sister's face, she put her hand again into +hers. 'You won't love me less for being so wilful, Gage? If +anyone had asked you to give up Percival when you were +engaged to him, do you think you would have listened?'</p> + +<p>'Is that not very different, darling?'</p> + +<p>'No; not so very different. Perhaps I do not love Cyril<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">{367}</a></span> +quite in the same way you loved Percival, our natures are so +dissimilar; but, at least, he is very dear to me.'</p> + +<p>'Do you mean that you will break your heart because of +this? Oh, Audrey!' and Geraldine's face was very sad.</p> + +<p>'No, dear; hearts are not so easily broken, and I do not +think that mine would be so weak and brittle. But the +thought of his sorrow will always be present with me, and, in +some sense, I fear my life will be clouded.'</p> + +<p>Then her sister caressed her again with tears.</p> + +<p>'But it will not be as bad for me as for him; for I shall +have you all to comfort me, and I know how good you will all +be. You will be ready to share even your child with me, +Gage, if you think that will console me.'</p> + +<p>'Yes; and Percival will be good to you, too.'</p> + +<p>'I am sure of that; only you must ask him not to speak to +me. Now I am very tired, and I must ask you to leave me. +Go down to mother, dear Gage.'</p> + +<p>But it seemed as though Geraldine could hardly tear herself +away.</p> + +<p>'I will do anything, if only you will promise to be happy +again,' she said, kissing her with the utmost affection. 'Remember +how necessary you are to us. What would any of us +do without you? To-morrow I shall bring your godson to see +you.'</p> + +<p>Then, at the thought of her baby-nephew, a faint smile +crossed Audrey's face.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">{368}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XL" id="CHAPTER_XL"></a>CHAPTER XL</h2> + +<h3>MICHAEL ACCEPTS HIS CHARGE</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>'Try how the life of the good man suits thee: the life of him who is +satisfied with his portion out of the whole, and satisfied with his own +just acts and benevolent disposition.'—<span class="smcap">M. Aurelius Antoninus.</span></p></div> + + +<p>Michael's morning in the schoolroom had been truly purgatorial; +fortunately for him, it was a half-holiday, and the +luncheon-hour set him free from his self-imposed duties. On +his way to his own room, he had overheard Geraldine's voice +speaking to her father, and he at once guessed the reason why +Dr. Ross had invited her into the study.</p> + +<p>He had never been less enamoured of solitude and of his +own society; nevertheless, he told himself that any amount of +isolation would be preferable to the penalty of hearing Geraldine +discuss the matter. He could hear in imagination her clear +sensible premises and sound, logical conclusion, annotated by +womanly lamentations over such a family disaster. The +probable opinions of Mrs. Bryce and Mrs. Charrington would +be cited and commented on, and, in spite of her very real +sympathy with her sister, Michael shrewdly surmised that the +knowledge that the Blake influence was waning would give her +a large amount of comfort in the future.</p> + +<p>When Crauford announced that the ladies were having tea +in the drawing-room, he begged that a cup might be sent up +to him.</p> + +<p>'Will you tell Mrs. Harcourt that I have a headache?' he +said; and, as Crauford delivered the message, Geraldine looked +meaningly at her mother.</p> + +<p>'I expect Michael has taken all this to heart,' she said, as +soon as Crauford had left the room; 'he is very feeling, and +then he is so fond of Audrey.' And as Mrs. Ross sighed in +assent, she went on with the topic that was engrossing them at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">{369}</a></span> +that moment—how Audrey was to be induced to leave home +for a while.</p> + +<p>Michael's table was strewn with books, and one lay open +on his knee, but he had not once turned the page. How was +he to read when the very atmosphere seemed charged with +heaviness and oppression?</p> + +<p>'She thinks that she loves him, and therefore she will +suffer,' he said to himself over and over again; 'and it will be +for the first time in her life; for she has often told me that she +has never known trouble. But her suffering will be like a +grain of sand in comparison with his. Oh, I know what he is +feeling now! To have had her, and then to have lost her! +Poor fellow! it is a cruel fate.'</p> + +<p>Michael pondered drearily over the future that lay before +them all. How was he to bear himself, he wondered, under +circumstances so exasperating? She was free, and he knew her +to be free—for Cyril would never claim her—and yet she +would regard herself as altogether bound.</p> + +<p>He must go away, he thought; not at once—not while she +needed him—but by and by, when things were a little better. +Life at Rutherford was no longer endurable to him; for months +past, ever since her engagement, he had chafed under a sense +of insupportable restlessness. A sort of fever oppressed him—a +longing to be free from the influence that dominated him.</p> + +<p>'If I stay here I must tell her how it is with me, and that +will only make her more miserable,' he thought. 'She is not +like other women—I never saw one like her. There is something +unreasonable in her generosity. Girls sometimes say +things they do not mean, and then repent of their impulsiveness; +but she will never repent, whether she loves him or +not. She believes that it is her mission to comfort him. +Perhaps, if I had appealed to her, I might have made her +believe that she had a different mission. Oh, my dear, if it +only could have been so!'</p> + +<p>And he sighed in the bitterness of his spirit; for he knew +that in his unselfishness he had never wooed her.</p> + +<p>At that moment there was a light tap at his door, and he +started to his feet with a quick exclamation of surprise as +Audrey entered. He had been thinking of her at that moment, +and he almost felt as though the intensity of his thoughts +had attracted her by some unconscious magnetism; but a glance +at her dispelled this illusion.</p> + +<p>She was dressed for dinner, and he noticed that there was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">{370}</a></span> +an air of unusual sombreness about her attire, as though she +felt that any gaiety of apparel would be incongruous. And as +she came closer to him, he was struck with her paleness and +the sadness in her large gray eyes.</p> + +<p>'Michael,' she said, in a low voice, 'I want to speak to you. +I hope I am not interrupting you.'</p> + +<p>'You never interrupt me,' he returned quickly. 'Besides, I +am doing nothing. Sit down, dear, and then we shall talk +more comfortably.' For he noticed that she spoke with an air +of lassitude that was unusual to her, and her strong lithe figure +swayed a little, as though with weakness.</p> + +<p>'Do you think you should be here?' he asked, with grave +concern. 'You look ill, Audrey, as though you ought to be +resting in your own room.'</p> + +<p>'I have been resting,' she replied gently. 'And then Gage +came to me, and after that I thought I had been idle long +enough. Michael,'—and here her lips quivered as though she +found it difficult to maintain her self-control—'you know all +that has happened. Cyril has gone away—he has said good-bye +to me—and he looks as though his heart were broken. I +have done what I could to comfort him. I have told him that +I shall always be true to him; but it is not in my power to +help him more.'</p> + +<p>'Dear Audrey,' he said—for he understood her meaning +well, and there was no need for her to speak more plainly—'it +was not for me to go to him after such a parting as that. The +presence of one's dearest friend would be intolerable.'</p> + +<p>'I did not mean to-day,' she returned sadly; 'but there is +to-morrow, and there is the future. And he has no friend who +is worthy of the name. Michael, there is no one in the whole +world who could help him as you could. This is the favour I +have come to ask you.'</p> + +<p>'It is granted, Audrey.'</p> + +<p>Then her eyes were full of tears as he said this.</p> + +<p>'Oh, I knew you would not refuse! When have you ever +refused to do a kindness for anyone? Michael, I told my poor +boy to-day that if he valued my peace of mind he would consent +to be guided by your advice. He is so young; he does not +know the world as you do, and he is so terribly unhappy; but +if you would only help him——'</p> + +<p>'My dear,' he said very quietly, 'there is no need to distress +yourself, or to say any more; we have always understood each +other without words. You are giving me this charge because<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">{371}</a></span> +you are unable to fulfil it yourself. You wish me to be a good +friend to poor Blake, to watch over him and interest myself in +his welfare—that is, as far as one man will permit another to +do so. Well, I can promise you that without a moment's +hesitation. I will be as solicitous for him as though he were +my brother. Will that content you?'</p> + +<p>But he could not easily forget the look of gratitude that +answered him.</p> + +<p>'God bless you, Michael! I will not try to thank you. +Perhaps some day——'</p> + +<p>She stopped as though unable to say more.</p> + +<p>'Oh,' he said lightly, and crushing down some dangerous +emotion as he spoke, 'I have done nothing to deserve thanks. +Even if you had not asked me this, do you think I would have +gone on my own way, like the Levite in the parable, and left +that poor fellow to shift for himself? No, my dear, no; I am +not quite so flinty-hearted. Unless Blake will have none of +my help—unless he absolutely repulse me—I will try as far as +lies in my power to put him on his feet again.'</p> + +<p>'He will not repulse you; I have his word for that. Ah! +there is the dinner-bell, and I have not said all that I wanted. +The day seems as though it would never end, and yet there is +time for nothing.'</p> + +<p>'You will not come downstairs, Audrey? Let me ask your +mother to excuse you. See! you can stay in this room; I can +clear the table and put things ship-shape for you.'</p> + +<p>Then she looked at him with the same air of innocent surprise +with which she had regarded her mother the previous night, +when she had asked to remain with her.</p> + +<p>'Why do you all treat me as though I were an invalid?' she +said protestingly. 'I am not ill, Michael. What does it +matter where one eats one's dinner? It is true I am not +hungry, but there is father—why should I make him uncomfortable? +We must think of other people always, and under all +circumstances.'</p> + +<p>She seemed to be saying this to herself more than to him, as +though she would remind herself of her duty. Michael said no +more, but as he followed her downstairs he told himself that no +other girl could have borne herself so bravely and so sweetly +under the circumstances.</p> + +<p>He wondered at her still more as he sat opposite to her at +table, and saw the quiet gravity with which she took her part +in the conversation. She spoke a word or two about her sister,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">{372}</a></span> +and mentioned of her own accord that she had promised to bring +Leonard to see her the next day.</p> + +<p>'I do not mean to call him baby,' she said; 'he is far too +important a personage. Did you hear nurse speak of him as +Master Baby the other day? I think Gage must have given her +a hint about it.'</p> + +<p>And then she listened with an air of interest as her mother +related a little anecdote that recurred to her memory of +Geraldine's babyhood.</p> + +<p>But he saw her flush painfully when Mrs. Ross commented +on her want of appetite.</p> + +<p>'You have eaten nothing to-day, Crauford tells me,' she +continued anxiously.</p> + +<p>Audrey shook her head.</p> + +<p>'One cannot always be hungry, mother dear,' she said gently; +but it was evident that her mother's kindly notice did not +please her.</p> + +<p>And she seemed still more distressed when her father once +rose from his place to give her some wine.</p> + +<p>'Why do you do that?' she asked, with a touch of impatience. +'It is not for you to wait on me, father. Michael would have +filled my glass quite easily.'</p> + +<p>'You are paying me a very bad compliment, Audrey,' +returned Dr. Ross with a smile. 'You are telling me that I +am too much of an old fogey to wait on ladies. Mike is the +younger man, of course, and if you should prefer that he should +help you to madeira——'</p> + +<p>'No, father, it is not that; but it is for me to wait on you. +You must never, never do that for me again.'</p> + +<p>And somehow Dr. Ross seemed to have no answer ready as +he went back to his chair.</p> + +<p>But when she was alone with her mother she spoke still +more plainly. Mrs. Ross had persuaded her to take the corner +of the couch; but as she stood by her manipulating the cushions +and adjusting them more comfortably, Audrey turned round +quickly and took hold of her hands.</p> + +<p>'Mother, do please sit down. I think you have all entered +into a conspiracy to-night to kill me with kindness.'</p> + +<p>'We are so sorry for you, darling.'</p> + +<p>'Perhaps I am sorry for myself; but is that any reason why +I should be treated as though I had lost the use of my limbs? +I want you to behave to me as usual; it will be far better +for me and you too. Why did not father and Michael talk<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">{373}</a></span> +politics, instead of making little cut-and-dried speeches that +seemed to fit into nothing?'</p> + +<p>'I daresay they found it very difficult to talk at all under the +circumstances.'</p> + +<p>'That sounds as though I had better have remained upstairs, +as Michael suggested; indeed, I must do so if you will persist +in regarding me as the skeleton at the feast.'</p> + +<p>'My darling child, how you talk! Surely you will allow +your parents to share your sorrow?'</p> + +<p>'No, mother; that is just what I cannot allow; no one +shall be burdened with my troubles. Listen to me, mother +dear: I think people make a great mistake about this; they +mean to be kind, but it is not true kindness; they are ready to +give everything—sympathy, watchfulness, attention—but they +withhold the greatest gift of all, the freedom, the solitude, for +which the sufferer craves.'</p> + +<p>'Do you mean that we are to leave you alone, Audrey? Oh, +my dear, this is a hard saying for a mother to hear!'</p> + +<p>'But it is not too hard for my mother,' returned Audrey +caressingly. 'Yes, I would have you leave me alone until I +recover myself. I would be treated as you have always treated +me, and not as though I were a maimed and sickly member of +the flock. Neither would I be reminded every moment of the +day that any special hurt has come to me.'</p> + +<p>'And I am not to ask you even to rest yourself?'</p> + +<p>'No, not even that. I would rather a thousand times that +you gave me some work or errand. Mother dear,' and here +her voice was very sad, 'I will not deny that this is a great +trouble, and that my life will not be as easy and as happy as +it used to be. The shadow of my poor boy's sorrow will be +a heavy burden for me to bear; but we must ask God to +lighten it for both of us. I tell you this to-night because you +are my own dear mother, and such confidence is your due; +but after to-night I shall not say it again. If you and father +wish to help me, it will be by allowing me to feel that I am +still your comfort;' and then she threw herself in her mother's +arms. 'Tell father this,' she whispered, 'and ask him to give +me time. One day, perhaps, I shall be more like my old self; +but we must wait: it is too soon to expect much of me yet.'</p> + +<p>'I will tell your father you are our good, dear child, Audrey, +and you shall have your way.'</p> + +<p>'Thank you; I knew you would understand. After all, +there is no one like one's mother.' And then she sighed, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">{374}</a></span> +Mrs. Ross knew where her thoughts had wandered. 'Now, +for this one evening, I will take your advice and rest. I will +go up to my room now; but to-morrow'—she stopped, and +then said firmly—'to-morrow everything shall be as usual.' +And then she gave her cheek to her mother's kiss, and went +up to her room.</p> + +<p>Michael did not make his appearance in the drawing-room +that night. To Booty's secret rapture, he put on his great-coat, +and went out into the chill darkness. He had much to +consider; and it was easier to make his plans under the dim +March starlight. A difficult charge had been given him, and +he had not shrunk from it; on the contrary, he had felt much +as some knight in the olden times must have felt when his +liege lady had given him some hazardous work or quest. To +be sure, there was no special guerdon attached to it; but +a man like Michael Burnett does not need a reward: if he +could only give Audrey peace of mind, he would ask no other +reward.</p> + +<p>He made up his mind that he would go to Cyril the next +morning, and he thought he knew what he should say to him. +He and Dr. Ross had talked matters over after dinner. Dr. +Ross had already suggested a substitute—a young Oxford +man, who was staying at the Vicarage, and who was on the +look-out for a mastership.</p> + +<p>'I told Cyril that he had better discontinue his work,' he +went on. 'If it were not for Audrey, he could have made +some sort of shift, and kept on until the holidays; but it +would never do to run the risk of another scene between +them: it would be bad for her, and it would be terrible for +him. It is an awkward complication, Mike; it would be +better to get him away as soon as possible.' And to this +Michael assented.</p> + +<p>He went round to the Gray Cottage soon after breakfast. +Audrey was watering her flowers in the hall. She looked at +him as he passed her, but did not speak; of course, she +guessed his errand, for he saw her head droop a little over +the flowers.</p> + +<p>Mollie received him. The poor girl's eyes were swollen +with crying, and she looked up in his face very piteously, as +he greeted her with his usual kindness.</p> + +<p>'Where is your brother, Mollie?'</p> + +<p>'Do you mean Cyril? He is in his room; but no one has +seen him. Oh, Captain Burnett, is it true? Mamma has<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">{375}</a></span> +been saying such dreadful things, and we do not know whether +we are to believe her. Biddy tries to hush her, but she will +go on talking; she is quiet now, and Kester and I crept down +here. Ah, there is Kester looking at us; he wants you to go +in and speak to him.'</p> + +<p>'Is it true?' were Kester's first words when he saw his +friend. The poor lad's lips were quivering. 'Oh, Captain +Burnett, do tell us that it is not true!'</p> + +<p>'I cannot do that, my boy,' returned Michael gravely; and +then he sat down and listened to what they had to tell him. +He soon found that the mother's wild ravings had told them +the truth. In her despair at being refused admittance to her +son's room, she had given way to a frantic outburst of emotion. +Biddy had tried to get rid of them, but Kester and Mollie had +remained, almost petrified with horror. What could their +mother mean by telling them that she hated the sight of them, +and adjuring them to go to their father?</p> + +<p>'Father is dead; does she wish us to be dead, too?' +Mollie had faltered. 'Dear mamma, do let me go and fetch +Cyril! You are ill; you do not know what you are saying!' +But as she turned to go, her mother had started up, and +gripped her arm so fiercely that the poor child could have +screamed with pain.</p> + +<p>'Yes, you shall fetch him, but he will not come; he will +not listen to you any more than he would to me. When I +implored him on my knees to open the door, he said that he +was ill, and that he could not speak to me. But was I not +ill, too? If I were dying he would not come to me! and yet +he is my son!'</p> + +<p>'Dear mamma! oh, dear mamma! do you know how you +are hurting me?'</p> + +<p>'No; it is he who is hurting me: he is killing me—absolutely +killing me!—because I kept from him that his +father was alive! Did I not do it for his sake—that he +should not be shamed by such a father? Go to him, Mollie; +tell him that you know all about it, and that Audrey Ross +will have nothing to say to him, because he is the son of a +felon. Why are you staring at me? Go! go!' And she +pushed her from her so roughly that Mollie would have fallen +if Biddy had not caught her.</p> + +<p>'Go, Miss Mollie, or you will drive her crazy with your +big eyes and frightened face. Whist! don't heed the mistress's +wild talk; it is never the truth she is telling you.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">{376}</a></span></p> + +<p>But Mrs. Blake had interrupted the old woman; her eyes +were blazing with angry excitement:</p> + +<p>'Where do you expect to go, Biddy, if you tell Mollie +such lies? You are a wicked old woman! You have helped +me to do all this mischief! Would you dare to tell me to +my face that I am not the wife of Mat O'Brien?'</p> + +<p>'Sorra a bit, Miss Olive; you are the widow of that honest +man Blake. Heaven rest his soul!' returned the old woman +doggedly. 'We must be having the doctors to you, Miss +Olive avick, if you tell us these wild stories.'</p> + +<p>'Biddy, you are a false, foolish old creature! and it is you +who are driving me out of my sane senses.'</p> + +<p>But at this point Mollie fairly fled.</p> + +<p>'Did you see your brother?' asked Michael, as she stopped +to dry her eyes. Kester had never uttered a word; he left +Mollie to tell her own story, and sat leaning his head on his +hands. For once Mollie's loquacity was suffered unchecked.</p> + +<p>'It was dark, and I could not see him; it was quite late, +you know—nearly twelve o'clock. He came out and listened +to me; but the passage and the room were quite dark.</p> + +<p>'"Go down, Mollie," he said, "and tell my mother that I +cannot speak to her to-night. It is quite impossible; she +ought not to expect it."</p> + +<p>'"But she is ill, Cyril—I am sure she is dreadfully ill; +her eyes look so strange, and she is saying such things!"</p> + +<p>'"Biddy will take care of her; if she needs a doctor, you +must go for one. But nothing on earth would induce me to +see her to-night." And then he went back into his room and +locked the door.'</p> + +<p>'Poor Mollie!'</p> + +<p>'Oh, that was nothing to what came afterwards. Would +you believe it, Captain Burnett?—mamma had heard every +word. When I left Cyril, I found her crouching on the +stairs in a dark corner. Oh, I shall never forget the turn it +gave me! She had got her arms over her head, and they +seemed quite stiff, and her fingers were clenched. Biddy was +crying over her; but she did not move or speak, and it was +quite an hour before we could get her into her own room.'</p> + +<p>'You ought to have sent for the doctor.'</p> + +<p>'Biddy would not let us; she said it was only sorrow of +heart, and that she had seen her once before like that, when +her husband died. What makes Biddy say that, Captain +Burnett, if our father be still living?'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377">{377}</a></span></p> + +<p>Michael shook his head.</p> + +<p>'Biddy chooses to persist in her falsehood. I have seen +your father, Mollie. I am very sorry for him; with all his +faults, he loves his children.' Then a low sound like a groan +escaped Kester's lips. 'And I think his children should be +sorry for him, too; he has had a hard, unhappy life. But +there is no time to talk of this now; I want you to finish +about last night, and then I must go upstairs.'</p> + +<p>'There is nothing more to tell. We could not induce +mamma to undress or to go to bed, so Biddy covered her up +and told me to go away. She was with her all night. With +all her crossness and tiresome ways, Biddy is always good to +mamma; she was talking to her almost as though she were +a baby, for I stood and listened a minute before I closed the +door. I could hear her say:</p> + +<p>'"Miss Olive avick, what was the good of telling the +children? You should hush it up for Mr. Cyril's sake, and for +the sake of the dear young lady he is going to marry." But +he is not going to marry her; mamma said so more than +once.'</p> + +<p>And then, in a few grave words, Michael told them all that +it was necessary for them to know.</p> + +<p>'Poor, poor Cyril! Oh, my dear Miss Ross!' was all +Mollie could say. Kester seemed nearly choking.</p> + +<p>'Let me go to him, dear Mollie. But I think I will see +your mother first. Biddy seems to be a bad adviser. After +all, she may require a doctor.'</p> + +<p>And then he put his hand on Kester's shoulder and +whispered something into his ear. Mollie could not hear what +it was, but she saw the boy's face brighten a little as he took +up Booty to prevent him from following his master.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378">{378}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLI" id="CHAPTER_XLI"></a>CHAPTER XLI</h2> + +<h3>'THERE SHALL BE PEACE BETWEEN US'</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>'Men exist for the sake of one another. Teach them, then, or bear +with them.'</p> + +<p class="sep">******</p> + +<p>'When a man has done thee any wrong, immediately consider with +what opinion about good or evil he has done wrong; for when thou hast +seen this thou wilt pity him, and wilt neither wonder nor be angry.'—<span class="smcap">M. +Aurelius Antoninus.</span></p></div> + + +<p>Biddy was hovering about the passage, as usual. She regarded +Michael with marked disfavour when he asked if he could see +her mistress. In her ignorant way, she had arrived at the +conclusion that the Captain was at the bottom of the mischief.</p> + +<p>'Why couldn't he leave things to sort themselves?' she +grumbled within herself. 'But men are over-given to meddling; +they mar more than they make.'</p> + +<p>'My mistress is too ill to see anyone,' she returned shortly.</p> + +<p>'Do you mean that she is in her own room?' he asked.</p> + +<p>But even as he put the question, he could answer it for +himself. The door of the adjoining room was wide open, and +he was certain that it was empty.</p> + +<p>'Sick folk do not always stop in their beds,' retorted Biddy +still more sourly; 'but for all that, she is not fit to see +visitors.'</p> + +<p>She squared her skinny elbows as she spoke, as though prepared +to bar his entrance; but he looked at her in his quiet, +authoritative way.</p> + +<p>'She will see me, Biddy. Will you kindly allow me to +pass?' And the old woman drew back, muttering as she +did so.</p> + +<p>But he was obliged to confess that Biddy was right as he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379">{379}</a></span> +opened the door, and for a moment he hesitated on the +threshold.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Blake was half sitting, half lying on the couch in a +curiously uneasy position, as though she had flung herself back +in some sudden faintness; her eyes were closed, and the contrast +between the pale face and dark dishevelled hair was very +striking; her lips, even, were of the same marble tint. He had +always been compelled to admire her, but he had done so in +grudging fashion; but now he was constrained to own that +her beauty was of no mean order. An artist would have raved +over her; she would have made a model for a Judith or a +Magdalene.</p> + +<p>As he stood there with his hand on the door, she opened her +eyes and looked at him; but she did not change her attitude +or address him.</p> + +<p>Michael made up his mind that he must speak to her.</p> + +<p>'I am sorry to see you look so ill, Mrs. Blake.'</p> + +<p>He took her hand as he spoke; it felt weak and nerveless. +But she drew it hastily away, and her forehead contracted.</p> + +<p>'Of course I am ill.'</p> + +<p>'I hope Biddy has sent for a doctor; I think you should +see one without delay.'</p> + +<p>But she shook her head.</p> + +<p>'No doctor would do me any good. I would not see him +if he came.'</p> + +<p>Michael was silent; he hardly knew how he was to treat +her. Mollie's graphic account of the scene last night had +greatly alarmed him. Mrs. Blake was of a strangely excitable +nature; he had been told that from her youth she had been +prone to fits of hysterical emotion. She was perfectly unused +to self-control, and only her son had ever exercised any influence +over her. Was there not a danger, then, that, the +barriers once broken down, she might pass beyond her own +control? He had heard and had read that ungovernable +passion might lead to insanity; he almost believed it, as he +listened to Mollie's story. This is why he had insisted on +seeing her. He must judge of her condition for himself; he must +do his best to prevent the recurrence of such a scene. And +now, as he saw her terrible exhaustion and the dim languor in +her eyes, he told himself that something must be done for her +relief.</p> + +<p>'If you send one, I will not see him,' she went on.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380">{380}</a></span></p> + +<p>'I think you are wrong. For your children's sake you +ought to do your best to throw off this illness that oppresses +you.'</p> + +<p>But she interrupted him.</p> + +<p>'Why are you here this morning? Are you going to him?' +she asked abruptly.</p> + +<p>'Yes, certainly; that is, if he will see me.'</p> + +<p>'He will see you. He would not refuse anyone who came +from Woodcote. Captain Burnett, will you tell me this one +thing: has that girl given him up?'</p> + +<p>Michael hesitated.</p> + +<p>'Your son has broken off his engagement with Miss Ross. +He felt he could not do otherwise.'</p> + +<p>'You are not answering me straight. I do not want to +hear about Cyril; of course he would offer to release her. But +has Miss Ross consented to this?'</p> + +<p>'No,' he returned reluctantly, for it pained him to enter on +this subject with her; 'she has refused to be set free. As far +as your son is concerned, the engagement is broken; but my +cousin declares her intention of remaining faithful to him.'</p> + +<p>'I knew it—I knew it as well as though you had told me,' +returned Mrs. Blake with strong emotion; 'Audrey Ross is not +the girl to throw a man over. Oh! I love her for this. She +is a darling, a darling, but'—relapsing into her old melancholy—'they +will never let her marry him—never, never!'</p> + +<p>'I am afraid you are right.'</p> + +<p>'No, he is doomed; my poor boy is doomed. If you see +him, what is there that you can say to comfort him?'</p> + +<p>'I shall not try to comfort him. I shall bid him do his +duty. Comfort will come to him in no other way.'</p> + +<p>'Shall you speak to him of me?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, certainly. If I have any influence, I shall bring him +to you before an hour is over.'</p> + +<p>Then she caught his hand and the blood rushed to her +face.</p> + +<p>'God bless you for this!' she whispered. 'Go; do not +keep me waiting. Go, for Heaven's sake!'</p> + +<p>'You must promise me one thing first: that you will control +yourself. Think of him, of the day and the night he +has passed. He will not be fit for any scene. If you reproach +him, you will only send him from you again.'</p> + +<p>'I will promise anything—everything—if you will only +bring him.' And now her eyes were wet; it seemed as though<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381">{381}</a></span> +he had given her new life. She sat erect; she was no longer +like a marble image of despair. 'If I can only see him, if he +will let me speak to him! but it is this emptiness—this blank, +this dreadful displeasure—that is shutting me out from him, +that is killing me by inches.'</p> + +<p>And here she put her hand to her throat, as though the +words suffocated her.</p> + +<p>'Be calm and quiet, and all may yet be well,' he returned +in a soothing voice; 'I will do what I can for you and him +too.' And with a reassuring look he left her.</p> + +<p>What had become of his dislike? He felt he no longer disliked +her. She was false—falser than he had thought any +woman could be; she had qualities that he detested, faults +that he, of all men, was most ready to condemn; but the one +spark of goodness that redeemed her in his eyes was her love +for her son.</p> + +<p>He knocked somewhat lightly at Cyril's door, but there was +no answer; but as he repeated it more loudly, Cyril's voice +impatiently demanded his business.</p> + +<p>'It is I—Burnett. Will you let me speak to you a moment, +Blake?'</p> + +<p>And then the door was unlocked, and Cyril stood aside to +let him enter; but he uttered no greeting, neither did Michael +at once offer his hand. He threw a hasty glance round the +room as Cyril relocked the door; the bed had not been slept in +that night—that was plainly evident—but the crushed pillow +and the rug flung across the foot proved clearly that he had +thrown himself down fully dressed when weariness compelled him.</p> + +<p>He had evidently only just completed his toilet: the shirt +he had thrown aside was still on the floor, in company with his +bath towels; and something in his appearance made Michael +say: 'You were just going out. I hope I am not keeping +you?'</p> + +<p>'There is no hurry,' returned Cyril indifferently; 'I was +only going out because I could not stop indoors any longer; +but there is plenty of time between this and night.' And then +he offered Michael the only chair, and sat down on the bed. +'This place is not fit for you,' he continued apologetically; +'but there is nowhere else where one can be quiet.'</p> + +<p>'You are looking ill, Blake. I am afraid you have not +slept.'</p> + +<p>For there was a sunken look in Cyril's eyes that told its +own tale.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_382" id="Page_382">{382}</a></span></p> + +<p>'I had some sleep towards morning,' he replied, as though +the matter did not concern him; 'and I dreamt that I was in +purgatory. It was not a pleasant place, but I believe I was +rather sorry when I woke. It is very good of you to look me +up, Burnett.' And here he paused, and then said in a changed +voice: 'Will you tell me how she is?'</p> + +<p>'You mean my cousin? She is as well as one can expect +her to be; but, of course, all this has been a terrible upset. +She is very good and brave. She knows I have come to you.'</p> + +<p>'Did she send you?'</p> + +<p>'I suppose I must say yes to that; but I had fully intended +to come. Blake, I want you to look on me as a friend. You +need someone to stand by you, and see you through this; and +I think there is no one so suitable as myself at the present.'</p> + +<p>'You are very good; but I can have no possible claim on +you, Captain Burnett.'</p> + +<p>Cyril spoke a little stiffly.</p> + +<p>'If you put it in that way, perhaps not; in this sense, a +shipwrecked sailor has no claim on the man who holds out a +helping hand to him; but I doubt whether that reason would +induce him to refuse it.'</p> + +<p>Then a faint smile came to Cyril's dry lips.</p> + +<p>'You are right to choose that illustration. I think no man +in the world has ever suffered more complete shipwreck. I +have been trying to face my position all night, and I cannot +see a gleam of hope anywhere.'</p> + +<p>'You must not lose heart, Blake.'</p> + +<p>'Must I not? I think anyone would lose heart and faith, +and hope, too, in my position. Two days ago no future could +have been so bright; I had everything—everything that a +man needs for his happiness; and at this moment no beggar +could be poorer. I feel as though I had no bread to eat, and +as though I should never have appetite for bread again.'</p> + +<p>'I understand what you mean. I had the same sort of +feeling as I lay in the hospital. I was covered with wounds; +health was impossible; my work was gone. I could not face +my life. Would you believe it, Blake?—I was the veriest +coward, and could have trembled at my own shadow. It +made a woman of me. I did not want to live such a crippled, +meagre existence; but somehow I managed to struggle to the +light.'</p> + +<p>'Did anyone help you?'</p> + +<p>'No, not consciously; I helped myself. At least'—in a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_383" id="Page_383">{383}</a></span> +lower voice—'the help that came to me was from a higher +source. One day I will tell you about it, Blake; it was an +awful crisis in a man's life, and I should not speak about it +unless I thought my experience could benefit anyone. Now +about yourself—have you formed any plans?'</p> + +<p>'None; but I must get away from here.'</p> + +<p>'I can understand that perfectly; and I must say that I +think you are right. Dr. Ross and I were speaking about you +yesterday; he is deeply grieved at the idea of parting with you +so abruptly. He says, under any other circumstances (he was +thinking of his daughter when he spoke) that it would have +been well for you to go on with your work as usual—the +change could have been made after the holidays—but he fears +now that this is hardly possible. I am sure you will not misunderstand +him.'</p> + +<p>'No; he has decided quite rightly.'</p> + +<p>'He will give you a testimonial of which any man may be +proud. He told me with tears in his eyes that he never knew +anyone so young with so great a moral influence; that your +work was at all times excellent, and that he had never had so +high a respect for any of his masters. And he begs me to say +that you may command his purse or influence to any reasonable +extent. He will be truly grateful to you if you will not refuse +his help.'</p> + +<p>'I fear I must refuse it.' And Cyril threw back his head +with his old proud gesture. 'But do not tell him so, Captain +Burnett. Give him my kindest, my most respectful regards. +Say anything you like, but do not compromise me. I will take +nothing but my salary from Dr. Ross.'</p> + +<p>'Then we will say no more about it,' returned Michael with +ready tact. 'Every man has a right to his own independence. +Have you any place to go to when you leave here, Blake?'</p> + +<p>Then Cyril shook his head.</p> + +<p>'One can always take lodgings,' he replied. 'I must go +up to town and look out for some situation. I suppose, after +all, my testimonials will help me.'</p> + +<p>'Without doubt they will. What do you say to a secretaryship? +I have one in my mind that I think would suit you. +It is a friend of my own who is wanting someone as a sort of +general amanuensis and secretary. He is a literary man and +extremely wealthy, an old bachelor and somewhat of an oddity; +but in his own way I don't know a better fellow.'</p> + +<p>Cyril listened to this description with languid interest.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_384" id="Page_384">{384}</a></span></p> + +<p>'It sounds as though it would do,' he replied, after a +moment's reflection. 'At least, I might try it for a time. +Last night I thought of going to New Zealand. I could get +a mastership there.'</p> + +<p>'That is not a bad idea; but you might try the secretaryship +first, if Unwin be willing to come to terms. The work +would be novel and interesting, and your mother might not +like the New Zealand scheme.'</p> + +<p>Then, at the mention of his mother, Cyril's face seemed to +harden.</p> + +<p>Michael took no apparent notice of this.</p> + +<p>'I tell you what we will do, Blake. We will go up to +town together. When would you like to start—to-morrow?' +Here Cyril nodded. 'I have diggings of my own, you know, +in South Audley Street. They are very comfortable rooms, +and I can always get a bed for a friend. The people of the +house are most accommodating. Besides, I am a good tenant. +I will put you up, Blake, for any length of time you like to +name. I will not promise to bear you company after +the first week or so; but by that time you will find yourself +quite at home. And we will interview the old fellow as soon +as possible.'</p> + +<p>'You are too good! I have no right to burden you so;' +but a ray of hope shone in Cyril's sunken eyes: he was not +the outcast he had seemed to be, if this man stood by him.</p> + +<p>'Nonsense! How can you burden me?' returned Michael +briskly. 'I shall be delighted to have your company. And the +rooms are always there, you know. They may as well be used.'</p> + +<p>'And we can go to-morrow. You see, I am accepting your +generous offer; but how can I help myself? I must find work, +or I shall go mad.'</p> + +<p>'Just so, and I will help you to find it. There is some +good, after all, in being an idle man: one can do a good turn +for a friend. Well, we will say to-morrow. I shall be quite +at your service, then; but there are two things that must be +done first. Blake, do you know how ill your mother is? I +was quite shocked to see her just now.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, Mollie told me so last night; she wanted me to come +down to her, but I knew that it was far better for both of us +that I should remain where I was; I was in no mood for a +scene;' and Cyril knitted his brows as he spoke.</p> + +<p>'You were the best judge of that, of course; but I should +advise you to see her now.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_385" id="Page_385">{385}</a></span></p> + +<p>His grave tone somewhat startled Cyril.</p> + +<p>'Do you mean that she is so very ill?'</p> + +<p>'No, I do not mean that. As far as I can tell, I believe +her illness is more mental than bodily; but she is evidently +suffering acutely. If you leave her to herself much longer I +would not answer for the consequences. Her nature is a +peculiar one, as you must know for yourself. If you could +say a word to her to soothe her, I think it would be as well to +say it.'</p> + +<p>'Very well, I will go to her; but she must not expect me +to say much.'</p> + +<p>'She will expect nothing; but all the same I hope you will +not be too hard on her. If you cannot extenuate her fault, you +can at least remember her provocations.'</p> + +<p>A sigh of great bitterness rose to Cyril's lips.</p> + +<p>'I think it is hardest of all to hear you defend my mother +to me.'</p> + +<p>'I know it—it is bitterly hard. Do you think I don't feel +for you? But, Blake, before we leave Rutherford, there is +another duty, and a still more painful one. Surely you intend +to see your father?'</p> + +<p>'I do not see the necessity, Captain Burnett; my father is +nothing to me nor I to him.'</p> + +<p>'You are wrong,' returned Michael warmly; 'you are altogether +wrong. Will you let me tell you something?'</p> + +<p>And then he repeated the substance of his conversation with +Mat O'Brien. He thought Cyril seemed a little touched, but +he merely said:</p> + +<p>'I think I need hardly see him at present;' and he added +in a low voice, 'Am I in a fit state to see anyone?'</p> + +<p>'Perhaps not; but you may not soon have another opportunity, +my dear fellow. Will you put aside your feelings and +do this thing for my satisfaction? I have given my word to +Mr. O'Brien that I will do my best to bring you together, and +if you refuse I shall accuse myself of failure.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, if you put it in that light, I do not see my way to +refuse.'</p> + +<p>'Thanks—shall we go together, or would you prefer going +alone?'</p> + +<p>'I could not bring myself to go alone.'</p> + +<p>'Very well, then, I will drive you over in the dogcart. I +am no walker, as you know, and perhaps Kester had better go +with us;' and to this Cyril made no demur. 'Now I have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_386" id="Page_386">{386}</a></span> +detained you long enough, and Mrs. Blake will be wearying for +you. I will bring the trap round at half-past two.'</p> + +<p>Cyril nodded, and they went downstairs together. Michael +paused for an instant at the drawing-room door:</p> + +<p>'Be gentle with her, Blake,' he said, as he grasped his hand. +'What is done cannot be undone;' and then he went down to +Kester.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Blake was still in the same position. The tension of +that long waiting had been too much for her, and the old +faintness had returned; but when she saw her son she struggled +into a sitting posture and stretched out her hands to him as he +came slowly, and almost reluctantly, towards her.</p> + +<p>'Cyril! my darling Cyril!' Then he took her hand and +held it for a moment. 'My boy,' she said a little piteously, +'have you nothing else for your mother?'</p> + +<p>But he seemed as though he failed to understand her, and +when she pointed mutely to the seat beside her, he did not at +once seat himself.</p> + +<p>'Mother,' he said, still speaking as though the words were +difficult to him, 'I have come to tell you that there shall be +peace between us.'</p> + +<p>'Does that mean you have forgiven me, Cyril?'</p> + +<p>'It means that I will do my best to forgive you your share +in the ruin of my life—of all our lives.'</p> + +<p>Then as he stood before her she threw her arms round him +with a faint cry; but he gently, very gently, repulsed her.</p> + +<p>'Do not let there be any scene; I could not bear it;' and +the weariness in his voice made her heart ache still more. +'Mother, I think that we had better never speak of these +things again. As far as I am concerned, I will willingly +blot out the past from my memory. To-day we must begin +afresh—you and I.'</p> + +<p>His tone made her shiver, and as she looked up in his dark +impassive face, and saw the deep-seated melancholy in his eyes, +a sort of despair seized her.</p> + +<p>'Oh!' she cried passionately, 'can it be my son who speaks? +Blot out the past?—that happy past, when we were all in all +to each other—when even poverty was delicious, because I had +my boy to work for me!'</p> + +<p>'I shall work for you still.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, but will it be the same? What do I care for the +gifts you may bring me when your heart has gone from me? +How am I to bear my life when you treat me with such coldness?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_387" id="Page_387">{387}</a></span> +Cyril, you do not know what a mother's love is. If you +had sinned, if you had come to me and said, "Will you take +my hand, red as it is with the blood of a fellow-creature?" +with all my horror I would still have taken it, for it is the +hand of my son.'</p> + +<p>She spoke with a wild fervour that would have touched any +other man; but he only returned coldly:</p> + +<p>'And yet you had no mercy for my father?'</p> + +<p>Then a look of repugnance crossed her face.</p> + +<p>'That was because I did not love him. Where there is no +love there is no self-sacrifice; but, Cyril, with all my faults, I +have been a good mother to you.'</p> + +<p>'I know it,' he replied, 'and I hope I shall always do my +duty by you; but, mother, you must be patient and give +me time. Do you not see,' and here his voice became more +agitated, 'that you have yourself destroyed my faith in my +mother: the mother in whom I believed, who was truth itself +to me, is only my own illusion. I know now that she never +existed; that is why I say that you must give me time, that I +may become used to my new mother.'</p> + +<p>He spoke with the utmost gentleness; but his words were +dreadful to her. And yet she hardly understood them. How +could the pure rectitude, the scrupulous honour, of such a nature +be comprehended by a woman like Olive O'Brien, a creature of +wild impulses, whose notions of morality were as shifty as the +quicksands, whose sense of right and wrong was so strangely +warped? For the first time in her life the strong accusing +light of conscience seemed to penetrate the murky recesses of +her nature with an unearthly radiance that seemed to scorch +her into nothingness. Her son had become her judge, and the +penalty he imposed was worse than death to her. Of what use +would her life be to her if the idol of her heart had turned +against her? And yet, with all her remorse and misery, there +was no repentance: if the time had come over again, she would +still have freed herself from the husband she loathed, she would +still have dressed herself in her widows' weeds, and carried out +her life's deception.</p> + +<p>Cyril was perfectly aware of this; he knew all her anguish +was caused by his displeasure, and by the bitter consequences +that he was reaping. Her plot had failed; it had only brought +disaster on him and his. If he could have seen one spark of +real repentance—if she had owned to him with tears that her +sorrow was for her sin, and that she would fain undo it—his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_388" id="Page_388">{388}</a></span> +heart would have been softer to her as she sat and wept before +him.</p> + +<p>'I never thought you could have been so hard to me!' she +sobbed.</p> + +<p>'I do not mean to be hard,' was his answer; 'that is why +I said there should be peace between us, and because I am +going away.'</p> + +<p>'You are going!—where?'</p> + +<p>And then he told her briefly that Captain Burnett had +offered him a temporary home.</p> + +<p>'It is better for me to be alone a little,' he went on. 'When +I have settled work, and you can get rid of the house, I will +ask you to join me; but that will not be for some time.'</p> + +<p>'And I must stop on here alone? Oh, Cyril, my own boy, +let me come with you! I will slave, I will be content with a +crust, if you will only take me!'</p> + +<p>'It is impossible, mother; I shall have no home for you. +You must stay here quietly with Mollie and Kester, until my +plans are more settled.'</p> + +<p>And then he rose, as though to put an end to the discussion.</p> + +<p>'And you go to-morrow?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, to-morrow. Will you ask Mollie to look after my +things?'</p> + +<p>Then, as she gazed at him with troubled eyes, he bent over +her and kissed her forehead. 'We must begin afresh,' he said, +half to himself, as he left the room.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_389" id="Page_389">{389}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLII" id="CHAPTER_XLII"></a>CHAPTER XLII</h2> + +<h3>'WILL YOU SHAKE HANDS WITH YOUR FATHER?'</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>'It is peculiar to man to love even those who do wrong. And this +happens if, when they do wrong, it occurs to thee that they are kinsmen, +and that they do wrong through ignorance and unintentionally, and that +soon both of you will die; and above all, that the wrongdoer hath done +thee no harm, for he hath not made thy ruling faculty worse than it was +before.'—<span class="smcap">M. Aurelius Antoninus.</span></p></div> + +<table summary="quotation"> +<tr><td> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse">'To err is human; to forgive, divine.'</div> +</div> +</td></tr> +</table> + + +<p>The drive to Brail that afternoon was a silent one; grim care +sat on the two young faces, and Michael, with his usual tact, +devoted himself to his mare. Now and then her skittishness +gave him an opportunity of saying a word or two, to which +Cyril replied in monosyllables.</p> + +<p>When they had left the inn, and were almost in sight of the +cottage, Michael suddenly asked Cyril if he had ever seen Mr. +O'Brien. 'Thomas O'Brien,' he added quickly.</p> + +<p>'You mean my uncle?' returned Cyril curtly. 'No; I +have never seen him.'</p> + +<p>'Then I should like to tell you something about him. Of +all the men I have ever known, Thomas O'Brien is the one I +have most honoured. I have always had the greatest respect +for him—for his honesty, integrity, and child-like simplicity. +In spite of his want of culture, he is the gentleman his Creator +intended him to be. Let me tell you, Blake, that you may be +proud to call such a man your uncle.' And with these words +Michael unlatched the little gate, and waited for them to follow +him.</p> + +<p>They were not unperceived. Long before they reached +the porch the cottage door was open, and Thomas O'Brien's +genial face and strong, thick-set figure blocked up the doorway.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_390" id="Page_390">{390}</a></span></p> + +<p>Michael was about to speak, when, to his surprise, Cyril +lifted his hat, and then extended his hand to the old man.</p> + +<p>'I believe you are my uncle, sir,' he said quietly. 'There +can be no need of an introduction: I am Cyril, and this is my +brother Kester.'</p> + +<p>A soft, misty look came into Thomas O'Brien's honest eyes.</p> + +<p>'Ay, my lad, I am thinking I know you both, though I +have never set eyes on you before. You are kindly welcome, +young gentlemen, for your own and for your father's sake.' +And here he gave them a hearty grasp of the hand. 'The +Captain is always welcome, as he knows. He and me have +been friends for half a score of years—eh, Captain?'</p> + +<p>'Good God! are those my boys, Tom?'</p> + +<p>The interruption was so sudden and unexpected that they +all started, and Cyril turned pale. Something familiar in the +voice seemed to thrill him, like an echo from a far-off time. +He turned round quickly. A tall man, with closely-cropped +hair and a gray moustache, was standing behind him, and +regarding him with dark, melancholy eyes.</p> + +<p>'Those two can never be my boys, Tom!' he repeated, in +the same incredulous, awestruck voice.</p> + +<p>'Ay, lad, they are your own, surely; and you had better be +thanking God for His mercy in giving you such sons than be +taking the holy name on your lips.'</p> + +<p>But Mat did not seem to hear this mild rebuke.</p> + +<p>'Will you shake hands with your father, Cyril?' he said, +with an air of deep dejection. 'I wish it were a cleaner hand, +for your sake; but I can give you no other.'</p> + +<p>'Do you think I would refuse it, sir?' returned the young +man, touched, in spite of himself.</p> + +<p>And then it was Kester's turn. But as Mat's eyes fell on +the boy's worn, sickly face his manner changed.</p> + +<p>'Is that my little chap—the young monkey who used to +ride on my shoulder and hold on by my hair? Dear! dear! +who would have believed it?'</p> + +<p>Kester's pale face flushed a little.</p> + +<p>'You are looking at my crutch, sir,' he said nervously; 'but +I shall soon throw it away. I am ever so much better now, am +I not, Cyril?'</p> + +<p>'And where's my little Mollie?' continued Mat—'"the +baby," as we used to call her?'</p> + +<p>'Let us come away,' whispered Michael in Mr. O'Brien's +ear. 'They will get on better without us.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_391" id="Page_391">{391}</a></span></p> + +<p>The tears were running down the old man's face as they +turned into the little parlour.</p> + +<p>'It beats me, sir, it beats me utterly, to see my poor lad +trying to make friends with his own children, and looking so +shamed before them. That is a fine-looking chap, that eldest +one,' he went on—'Miss Ross's sweetheart, as I used to call +him. He is the sort any girl could fancy. And he has a look +of Mat about him, too, only he is handsomer and better set +up than Mat ever was. "I believe you are my uncle, +sir." Few young chaps would have said that. A fine +fellow, and she has lost him. Well, the Almighty sends +trouble to the young as well as the old. May I light my +pipe, Captain? For I am a bit shaky, and all this has +overset me.'</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Cyril was saying:</p> + +<p>'We have not brought Mollie. If you wish to see her, she +shall come another time.'</p> + +<p>'Thank you, my lad; that is kindly spoken. And I have a +sort of longing to set eyes on her again. But you need not +think that I am going to trouble her, or you either. A man +like me has no right to trouble anyone.'</p> + +<p>How could they answer him? But Mat did not seem to +notice their silence. His eyes were bent on the ground, and he +twirled his gray moustache fiercely.</p> + +<p>'My children belong to their mother, and not to me. I +made you over to her years ago. She said I was not fit to +have the charge of my own children; and maybe she was +right. It was not a wifely speech, but I can't blame her. +When you go home, tell her I'll keep my word—that I'll lay +no sort of claim to any of you.'</p> + +<p>He spoke in the slow, brooding tone that was natural to +him, and the tears came into Kester's eyes as he listened.</p> + +<p>Boy as he was, he understood the deep degradation of such +words. This tall, hungry-eyed man, who stood aloof and +talked so strangely, was his own father, who was voluntarily +denuding himself of a father's rights—an outcast thrown over +by his wife and children—an erring, and yet a deeply repentant +man. Could anything be more unnatural and horrible? +Kester's boyish sense of justice revolted against this painful +condition of things; he longed to start up and take his father's +hand.</p> + +<p>'Do not be so miserable; whatever you have done, you are +our father, and we will be good to you.' This is what he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_392" id="Page_392">{392}</a></span> +would have said; but he only looked at Cyril and held his +peace.</p> + +<p>Cyril had felt himself strangely attracted from the first. +This was not the father whom he had dreaded to see, and on +whose countenance he had feared to behold the stamp of the +felon. Mat's worn, gentle face and deep-set, sorrowful eyes +only inspired him with pity; the haggard weariness, the utter +despondency of the man before him told their own story. +True, there was weakness, moral weakness; but, at least, +there was no glorying in his wrong-doing. The prodigal had +come home weary of his husks, and craving for more wholesome +food.</p> + +<p>'If I have done wrong, I have suffered for it,' his looks +seemed to say; and Cyril's generosity responded to the +appeal.</p> + +<p>'We are all in a difficult position,' he said; 'but there is no +need to make things worse than they are. It is not for us to +judge our parents, neither is it our fault that all these years we +have believed that we had but one. Now I know all, I feel +you have not been treated fairly.'</p> + +<p>'I thought you would have taken your mother's part, my +boy,' replied Mat humbly.</p> + +<p>Cyril's words brought him some amount of consolation, only +he could not quite bring himself to believe them.</p> + +<p>'I hope that I shall always be on the side where the right +lies,' was Cyril's answer. 'I do not wish to blame my mother. +I think it is best and wisest to be silent. You are a stranger +to us, and we have not even your memory to aid us. My own +childish reminiscences are very vague: I can just remember a +big man who used to play with us, and whom we called daddy; +but I have no special recollection of him.'</p> + +<p>'I hardly expected you to say as much as that,' and Mat's +eyes brightened; 'but, after all, I doubt if I am better off in +that respect than you. How am I to find my little chaps +again when I look at you both—a fine grown man, and that +poor sickly lad beside you? Why,' he continued in a tender, +musing tone, 'the little chaps I remember had rosy cheeks and +curly heads. I can feel their bare legs swarming up me now. +"Give us a ride, dad!" It was always Kester who said that. +He was never still a moment unless he was asleep, and then he +used to look so pretty; but where shall I find him?—there is +not a trace of the little rogue left in him; and when I see my +girl Mollie, it will be the same.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_393" id="Page_393">{393}</a></span></p> + +<p>Kester could stand no more; he started up so hastily that +his crutch slipped from under his arm, and he would have lost +his balance if his father had not caught him and held him +fast.</p> + +<p>'Why did you do that, boy? You have given me quite a +fright? There! there! I will pick up your stick for you, +while you stop quietly in your chair.'</p> + +<p>But, to his surprise, Kester held him tightly by the wrist.</p> + +<p>'Never mind the crutch, father; I am not afraid of a +tumble. Somehow, my leg gets stiff, but I don't mind it. I +only wanted to say that, if you like, I will come and see you +sometimes, when I can get a lift; and I will bring Mollie with +me. I can't help what mother says,' continued the boy, his face +working, 'and I don't mean to let her hinder us from coming. +Cyril is going away, so he will not count; but I'll bring +Mollie: and though she is not your baby now, she will take to +you and cheer you up.'</p> + +<p>Kester was quite out of breath with this long speech that +he blurted out, but he was hardly prepared for the result; for +before he had finished a low sob broke from Mat's lips, and +he sat down shaking with emotion, and covered his face with +his hands. Kester looked at him wistfully.</p> + +<p>'Have I said anything to hurt him?' he whispered; but +Mat's ears caught the words.</p> + +<p>'No, no,' he returned vehemently; 'you have put fresh life +into me by speaking so kindly. It was only the word "father" +that I never thought to hear. God bless you, my boy, for +saying that! I thought that she would have taught you to hate +me—as she did herself.'</p> + +<p>'I shall never hate you, father; I would not be so wicked. +If you will let me come and see you sometimes I will try to be +good to you, and I know Mollie will, too. I suppose,' continued +Kester doubtfully, 'that I must not ask you to come +and see us in return. It is mother's house, and——'</p> + +<p>But Mat finished the speech:</p> + +<p>'No, my lad, you are right. Your mother and I have +parted for this life.' And now he spoke with a sort of mournful +dignity. 'The time was when I worshipped the ground +she walked upon; but there are limits to a man's love. When +she forsook me in my shame and trouble, when she stood there +taunting me in my prison cell, my heart seemed to die to her. +Olive is nought to me now but a bitter memory, and if she +prayed to me on her bended knees I would not enter her house.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_394" id="Page_394">{394}</a></span></p> + +<p>It was Cyril's turn to speak now.</p> + +<p>'Yes, you are better apart,' he said in a low voice; 'and +my mother has always been my charge. I shall tell her that +she must not hinder Mollie or Kester from coming to see you. +Shall you still remain here, father?'</p> + +<p>He said the word with some little effort, but the same +brightness came into Mat's eyes.</p> + +<p>'I think so, my lad; I would as lief stay with Tom. All +these years he has stuck to me, and I'll not forsake him +now.'</p> + +<p>'And you will be comfortable?'</p> + +<p>Cyril asked the question with some degree of interest, and +again Mat's eyes glistened with pleasure.</p> + +<p>'I doubt if I was ever so comfortable in my life,' he +returned, without any hesitation. 'You are young, my boy, +and trouble is new to you, and Heaven forbid that you should +ever be able to put yourself in my place. But if you only knew +what it is to me to bid good-night to someone again!</p> + +<p>'It is not much of a life, perhaps,' went on Mat, with his +gentle, melancholy drawl; 'but to me it is heavenly in its +peace and quiet. Prissy is sometimes a bit harassing: but, +then, most women are; but she keeps things comfortable and +ship-shape, and when she has gone off to bed there is Tom and +his pipe in the chimney-corner, and it is "Come and have a +chat, my lad, until it is time to turn in." Yes, yes, I'll bide +with Tom and be thankful.'</p> + +<p>'Then we will come and see you here sometimes,' returned +Cyril, rising; 'for myself I cannot answer at present——' He +paused, and then continued hurriedly: 'I shall not see you +again for some time. I am leaving Rutherford.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, lad, I know,' and Mat sighed heavily; 'and it is all +through me that you are going. I wanted the Captain to hush +it all up; but he would not hear of it. When I think of all +I have brought on you, I wonder you can bring yourself to +speak a kind word to me.'</p> + +<p>'It is not all your fault; but I cannot talk of myself. Good-bye, +father. If we do not meet again for some time, it will be +because things are going badly with me; but I shall always be +ready to help you, if you need my assistance.'</p> + +<p>'Thank you, my boy,' returned Mat huskily.</p> + +<p>And then it was Kester's turn.</p> + +<p>'I shall come soon, very soon, and Mollie shall come with +me.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_395" id="Page_395">{395}</a></span></p> + +<p>'Mollie!' Mat repeated the name in fond, lingering fashion +as he moved to the window. 'My little girl! I wonder if she +is like Olive? Cyril is; he has all her good looks, but he has +something in his face that Olive never had. I almost felt +shamed when he called me father; but the other one—he is +not my little chap, and yet he is—but somehow when he spoke +my whole heart seemed to go out to him.' And then Mat tried +to light his pipe, only his hand trembled too much to do it. 'If +I could only have my life back again!' he said to himself with +a groan.</p> + +<p>Cyril hardly broke the silence once during the drive back. +It was not until several days had passed that Michael heard +how that interview with his father had affected him. Cyril +said very little even then, but Michael was relieved to find +that, on the whole, he had been more attracted than repelled.</p> + +<p>'Kester likes him, and in a way I like him too,' he remarked; +'we both think he has been hardly used. My mother +could have kept him straight—there is no doubt of that—but +she never tried to do so. One is sorry for that sort of weakness, +even if one cannot understand it,' finished Cyril, with +the feeling that there was nothing more to say.</p> + +<p>Michael left them at the Cottage and drove on to Woodcote. +His day's work had been somewhat arduous, and he felt fagged +and weary. It was long past tea-time, he knew, but he +wondered if he could ask Crauford to bring him some. +Michael's long years of ill-health made him depend on this +feminine panacea for all ills more than most men. That +Michael hated to miss his tea was a well-known fact in the +Ross household.</p> + +<p>Another time Audrey would have cared for his comforts, he +thought, as he dragged himself up the stairs in a spiritless +manner. Tired Nature was avenging herself in her usual +fashion, and Michael's head and limbs were aching. Perhaps +something else ached too.</p> + +<p>But his mood changed when he entered his room. After +all, he had not been forgotten. A cheery little fire burnt and +spluttered as though newly lighted, and a tiny kettle sang +merrily on its trivet; the tea-tray was on the table, and, as +Michael regarded these preparations with an expression of +satisfaction, he heard Audrey's well-known knock at the +door.</p> + +<p>'Shall I make your tea, Michael,' she asked, 'or would you +rather be alone? Gage and Percival are downstairs, and, as I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_396" id="Page_396">{396}</a></span> +was sure you would be tired, I told Crauford to bring up the +kettle. Shall I stay or not?' she continued, a little surprised +by his silence.</p> + +<p>'Stay, by all means!' was his only reply, as he threw himself +into his easy-chair.</p> + +<p>He would have thanked her—and she evidently expected +to be thanked—but he was afraid he should say too much. +She had thought of him and his comfort in her own unhappiness, +though her face was still pale with her inward +trouble.</p> + +<p>'You have had a trying day,' she continued, as she knelt +down on the rug a moment to coax the fire to burn more +brightly; 'and of course it has taken it out of you. I was +quite sure that you would not be in the mood for Gage and +Percival. Percival is very kind, but somehow he is not restful; +he is so very bracing.' And she sighed as though she had +found him so.</p> + +<p>'People are not always in a condition for a tonic, are they, +Audrey?'</p> + +<p>'No,' she replied quietly; 'and then it is no use forcing it +on them. But I must not be hard on Percival; he was very +kind, only somehow his conversation was a little too bracing. +He and Gage were full of plans; they meant it all for my +good: but it was a little tiring.'</p> + +<p>'Poor child!' and Michael's sympathising tone was very +healing.</p> + +<p>'But we will not talk about my silly self,' rousing herself; +'there is something else I want to know. I guess where you +have been this afternoon. You have taken Cyril to see his +father.'</p> + +<p>'Yes; and Kester too.'</p> + +<p>'I am very glad,' forcing a smile. 'It was right—quite +right. He will be the happier for not shirking his duty.'</p> + +<p>Then she looked at Michael a little pleadingly, as though to +beg for some account of the interview.</p> + +<p>'I am afraid I cannot tell you much,' he returned, feeling +sorry that he had so little to communicate. 'As far as I could +see, Blake behaved uncommonly well; he shook hands with +O'Brien at once. But, of course, after that I only thought it +right to efface myself.'</p> + +<p>'But surely Cyril has spoken of his father?'</p> + +<p>'No, he has not said a word; but I daresay he will open +out more by and by, I am going up to town with him to-morrow,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_397" id="Page_397">{397}</a></span> +and we shall have plenty of opportunity if he feels +disposed to talk.'</p> + +<p>'Are you going to stay?'</p> + +<p>'Well, yes—he is hardly fit to be left just now. I shall +put him up at South Audley Street, and then he can look +about him for a bit. I daresay I shall be back in a week +or two.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, Michael, I never thought of this. Are you sure it +will not trouble you?'</p> + +<p>'Not a bit,' he returned cheerfully. 'I want to see +my lawyer, and do one or two things; so it comes quite +handy.'</p> + +<p>But this plausible pretext did not in the least deceive her.</p> + +<p>'It is no use saying what I think,' she said hurriedly, and +he saw the gleam of a tear on her eyelash. 'No one but +yourself would ever do such things. I shall miss you—I think +I shall miss you more than ever—but it will be such a comfort +to feel you are with him.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, as to that, he will not need me long. When I see +him fairly settled I shall come home. I want to speak to +Unwin about him. You have often heard me speak of +Unwin: he is nearly old enough to be my father; but we are +great chums, and I mean to tell him the whole story about +Blake. If I could only get Unwin to stand his friend, there +will be some hope for him.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, I understand; but it is you who will be his benefactor. +Don't frown, Michael, I am not going to thank you; +I cannot. Now please tell me one other thing before I go: will +you write to me?'</p> + +<p>'If you wish it,' he replied without hesitation. 'Oh yes, I +will certainly write and let you know how we are getting on; +but I think it might be as well for you not to answer my +letters.'</p> + +<p>A flush came to Audrey's face, but she perfectly understood +the delicacy that induced Michael to make this stipulation; he +would deprive himself of one of his greatest pleasures rather +than Cyril should be pained by the sight of her handwriting.</p> + +<p>'I will not write,' she said in a low voice. 'Now I must +go down to Gage.'</p> + +<p>But he detained her.</p> + +<p>'Wait a moment; there is no hurry, is there? And it is my +turn to ask questions. I want to know what you are going to +do with yourself during my absence?'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_398" id="Page_398">{398}</a></span></p> + +<p>And there was no mistaking his anxiety, though he strove +to hide it.</p> + +<p>'I shall do as usual,' she returned tranquilly. 'Mollie will +come to me every morning, and we shall work hard at our +lessons, and——'</p> + +<p>But he interrupted her.</p> + +<p>'Are you sure that your father will approve of Mollie's +visits?' he asked.</p> + +<p>'There is no reason why he should disapprove,' she replied +quickly; 'but of course I shall speak to him. There can be +no possible reason why my poor Mollie should be punished. +Father would not wish me to go to the Gray Cottage, and, +indeed, I should not wish it myself; but there can be no +objection to Mollie coming here.'</p> + +<p>'Perhaps not; and, after all, it will not be for long.'</p> + +<p>'No, it will not be for long; so I must do my best for her. +Do not trouble about me, Michael; I shall be as busy as possible. +I am not going away with Gage, as she wishes. I tell +her I would rather stay quietly with father and mother—perhaps +next holidays—but we need not talk of that.'</p> + +<p>'But you will be very dull.'</p> + +<p>'No, indeed, I shall have too much to do—at least, I do not +mean to think whether I am dull or not; but, Michael, I shall +depend for a great deal of my comfort on your letters.'</p> + +<p>Then he knew that the burden of her lover's unhappiness +was very heavy upon her, but that she would not willingly +speak of it even to him.</p> + +<p>'I will tell you all that there is to tell. If you do not hear +from me, it will be because there is nothing to say;' and with +these words he let her go.</p> + +<p>He did not speak to her again that evening; for though +Mr. Harcourt had taken his departure, Geraldine had remained, +with the amiable intention of cheering her sister. If she did +not quite succeed in her mission, it was for no want of effort on +Audrey's part, who, as usual, did her best for everyone. But +more than once Michael detected a weary look in her eyes, +that told him that she would fain have been left alone. 'But +that is the last thing that Gage and Harcourt would ever do,' +he said to himself, with a shade of bitterness, as he saw the +gentleness and patience with which Audrey received her sister's +attentions.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_399" id="Page_399">{399}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIII" id="CHAPTER_XLIII"></a>CHAPTER XLIII</h2> + +<h3>MICHAEL'S LETTER</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>'Be not ashamed to be helped; for it is thy business to do thy duty, +like a soldier in the assault on a town. How then, if being lame, thou +canst not mount up on the battlements alone, but with the help of another +it is possible.'—<span class="smcap">M. Aurelius Antoninus.</span></p></div> + + +<p>About a week afterwards, Michael was writing in his sitting-room +in South Audley Street when Cyril Blake entered the +room. He put down his hat and began taking off his gloves as +he stood by the table.</p> + +<p>'Well,' asked Michael, looking up from his cheque-book; +'have you hit it off, old man?'</p> + +<p>'Yes; we have settled it,' returned Cyril, dropping into a +chair as though he were tired. 'And I am to enter on my +duties next week.'</p> + +<p>'Next week! That is uncommonly short notice. Unwin +must be in a precious hurry to close with the bargain.'</p> + +<p>'He is in a hurry. He says his work is all in arrears, and +that his publishers want his book on Cyprus as soon as he +can let them have it; and the papers are all in confusion. Of +course I let him know that I was in no need of a holiday, and +that I would far rather commence work at once. Mr. Unwin +was most kind and considerate. My hours are to be from ten +to six; so I shall be able to give a lesson or two in the evening.'</p> + +<p>'You know my opinion on that subject; but I fancy I have +exhausted all my arguments for no purpose.'</p> + +<p>'I am afraid so too,' returned Cyril quietly. 'Mr. Unwin +thinks he can find me a pupil—a young fellow who is behind-hand +with his classics, and has got plucked in his examination. +Really, Burnett, I am extremely indebted to you for this +introduction to Mr. Unwin. In spite of his peculiarities, he +seems to have an excellent heart.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_400" id="Page_400">{400}</a></span></p> + +<p>'Oh yes; he is an out-and-out good fellow. I can tell you +some anecdotes that are very much to his credit, only I know +he would never forgive me. Unwin likes his kind actions to +blush unseen. Shall you think me impertinent, Blake, if I ask +what amount of salary he means to give you?'</p> + +<p>'Not in the least; you have every right to know. I am to +have a hundred and twenty pounds a year—that is only thirty +pounds less than I had at Rutherford. I never expected such +good pay.'</p> + +<p>'Ah! Unwin can afford it.'</p> + +<p>'He seemed to say so. One thing—he thought I was older +than I am. He seemed quite surprised when I told him I was +only three-and-twenty.'</p> + +<p>Michael looked up a little sharply. There was no denying +that Cyril looked older—even these few days had worked some +indefinable change in him. He was not ill, though he could +not be said to be well; but there had come to him a certain +settled look that one sees on the faces of middle-aged men who +have a large amount of care. And there were dark circles +round his eyes, as though sleep had to be wooed with some +degree of difficulty.</p> + +<p>'You are tolerably youthful still, Blake,' he said, not liking +to admit that he saw this change in him.</p> + +<p>'Am I? I should not have said so from my own feelings. +I fancy youth is rather a relative term; but I must acknowledge +that Mr. Unwin treated me with a great deal of consideration. +I know what you have told him; but he scarcely +alluded to it, except in the most distant way: indeed, I am +very grateful to him for his delicacy.'</p> + +<p>'I told you from the first that he was a good fellow. +Unwin is what I call an all-round man. He is a bit fussy +over his hobbies, but as long as you keep Charles the First out +of your conversation I fancy it will be plain sailing. I hope +you are not bursting with the subject, as the immortal Mr. +Dick was, when he found himself compelled to fly his kites; +but it is a fact that Unwin is a bit cranky about him.'</p> + +<p>'Thank you for warning me,' returned Cyril, with a grave +smile; 'now, my next business will be to look out for some +lodgings within an easy distance of Cromwell Road. I have +trespassed on your kind hospitality long enough.'</p> + +<p>'Nonsense!' returned Michael bluntly. 'I expected you to +stop on here for at least another month. I shall go back to +Rutherford in a fortnight or so; but that would not make any<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_401" id="Page_401">{401}</a></span> +difference to you: my old woman would be delighted to cook +for you, and make you comfortable. You know, her husband +was an old corporal in our regiment; but an amputated leg, +and a little bit of money coming to his wife, made him fall out +of the ranks. I have lodged with them for about ten years, +and I have been in no hurry to change my quarters.'</p> + +<p>'No—they are very comfortable; but the fact is, Burnett, +my mother gives me no peace. She writes every day to beg +me to take her away from Rutherford. She says she will +never go outside the gate as long as she remains there. I +imagine she has a nervous dread of meeting my father; besides, +she says everyone will be talking about her.'</p> + +<p>'I do not believe a single person in Rutherford has begun to +talk.'</p> + +<p>'So I tell her; but she will not believe me. You know my +mother; it is not always easy to manage her. She will be +quieter when she has once got away; so, with many thanks for +all your kindness, Burnett, I will just look out for these +lodgings.'</p> + +<p>'Well, if your mind is made up, I will not try to change +your determination; but, if you will excuse my plainness of +speech, I think it would be better for you to be without your +mother for another week or two.'</p> + +<p>'I daresay you are right,' replied Cyril wearily; 'and my +quiet life here has been a great boon. But it does not do to +think only of one's self. And, after all, nothing matters much. +Perhaps Mrs. Johnson may know of some good rooms; they +must be furnished, for of course it would never do to move our +furniture under the present unsettled state of things. Besides, +ours is too old to bear another journey. My mother can bring +away the books, and her bits of china, and any little thing she +fancies, and Biddy can mount guard over the rest until we can +dispose of it. I daresay I can soon get the house off my hands.'</p> + +<p>'There will be no difficulty about that,' returned Michael, +inwardly wondering at Cyril's cool, business-like tone; in his +heart he admired him all the more for his pluck. 'Paget is +looking out for a house—you know he expects to be married +shortly—shall I write to him and give him a hint that you +want to find a tenant for the Gray Cottage? I daresay the +landlord will be glad for him to take it.'</p> + +<p>'If you will be so good. I forgot all about Paget. But he +would turn up his nose at our old carpets; his bride-elect is +rather a grand lady.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_402" id="Page_402">{402}</a></span></p> + +<p>Cyril's tone was a trifle cynical; but Michael would have +forgiven him if his speech had been flavoured with the gall of +bitterness.</p> + +<p>'Very well, then; I will write to him before country post, +and we will have up Mrs. Johnson and talk to her.'</p> + +<p>And Cyril at once rang the bell.</p> + +<p>Two days afterwards Audrey received her first long letter +from Michael. A brief note was all that had yet reached +her.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>'<span class="smcap">My dear Audrey</span>,' it began,</p> + +<p>'I hope that you will not think that I have forgotten +you; but when there is literally nothing to say, I am rather a +bad hand at cooking up a letter; and I had not a single fact +to go upon, except to tell you that, on the whole, we were +pretty fit, and were jogging along somehow. Well, I have a +whole budget of facts now, and my pen has become a valuable +implement.</p> + +<p>'First, then, Blake has come to terms with Unwin; and he +is to begin work on Monday. I believe in his heart he would +still prefer the New Zealand scheme; and if we could only get +rid of his mother—not an easy task that—I should be inclined +to give him a helping hand in that direction; but as Blake +does not see his way clear to leave her, he may as well take the +berth offered to him. Privately, I believe Unwin is hugging +himself under the idea that he has got a treasure. He spoke +of him to me as a highly intelligent fellow and a first-rate +Greek scholar, which we know are facts. His hours are pretty +light—from ten to six—so he will have his evenings to himself; +but I am sorry to say he means to look out for pupils. I have +talked myself hoarse on the subject; but he will not listen to +reason. Of course his health will suffer: he has always been +accustomed to so much fresh air and exercise. If I could only +induce him to join a cricket or tennis club! But it would +never do to propose it just now; he has no heart for play.</p> + +<p>'One thing, he has given in to me about Kester, though I +had some difficulty with him at first. We had a long talk last +night, and I employed all my eloquence to bring him to see the +thing in its right light; and at last he consented that I should +have my way.</p> + +<p>'Do you remember my telling you about George Moore—that +nice fellow who got into trouble with his rector? Well, +he has married lately, and his wife is a very good woman.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_403" id="Page_403">{403}</a></span> +Moore has taken a capital house at Brighton. He has a curacy at +Kemp Town, and he is looking out for a few pupils to prepare +for the university.</p> + +<p>'I am going to send Kester to him for a year or two, until +he is old enough to go to Oxford. Abercrombie tells me the +sea air will do him a world of good. I have just written to +him to come up at once, as he must have a proper outfit. And +now I must tell you that Blake has found some very good +rooms, Kensington way. I went down with him yesterday, +and I think they will do very well.</p> + +<p>'There is a good-sized drawing-room—a sunny, cheerful +room, with a smaller one behind, where Blake can work with +his pupils—and two good bedrooms. Biddy (how I wish she +were not to be of the ménage!) will have to content herself +with a dull slip of a room on the basement. Of course the +furniture is shabby, and there is very little of it; but I mean +to introduce a few improvements by degrees. I like the appearance +of the woman of the house. She is a widow, and is evidently +very respectable. Her daughter, a very tidy sort of person, +waits on the lodgers.</p> + +<p>'I think I have told you about all now. Blake has thawed +lately, and we have long talks together, though perhaps they +are not cheerful ones. On the whole, I think he shows a great +deal of pluck. I doubt whether any other young man of his +age would behave as well. If the Victoria Cross were ever +given for moral heroism, I am sure Blake would get it.</p> + +<p>'Good-bye until we meet. I suppose I shall be back in +another week or ten days. Take care of yourself, my dear, for +the sake of your affectionate friend and cousin,</p> + +<p class="sign">'<span class="smcap">Michael.</span>'</p> +</div> + +<p>'There is no one like Michael!' was Audrey's inward comment +as she put down the letter.</p> + +<p>How simply he had told her his intentions with regard to +Kester! as though his generosity were a matter of course. +How few men of Michael's age would have cared to saddle +themselves with such a responsibility! for one, too, who was +not their own kith and kin.</p> + +<p>'It will cost him at least two hundred a year,' she thought; +'no wonder my poor Cyril found it difficult to accept such an +offer. He would take nothing from Michael for himself, but +he could hardly refuse for Kester. Michael has virtually +adopted him, just as I should like to adopt Mollie. I suppose<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_404" id="Page_404">{404}</a></span> +he thinks he will have no son of his own, and there is all that +money——'</p> + +<p>And she sighed a little as she thought of Michael's loneliness.</p> + +<p>But if she had only known it, Michael's real generosity was +shown in those lines he had written at the end of his letter. +His munificence to Kester cost him far less than those few words +which he wrote so ungrudgingly of his rival; but he knew how +they would gladden her heart. The old beautiful smile would +come to her lips, he thought, as she read them.</p> + +<p>'They will please her more than all the rest of the letter,' he +said to himself.</p> + +<p>Two or three evenings after this letter had reached her, +Audrey went into her father's study, as usual, to bid him good-night; +but when he had kissed her with that special tenderness +which he had shown to her ever since her trouble, she looked +at him very seriously.</p> + +<p>'Father,' she said, as he kept his arm still round her, 'I +wish you to know that I am going to the Gray Cottage to-morrow +to bid Mrs. Blake good-bye.'</p> + +<p>Then Dr. Ross's arm dropped from her waist, and she saw +at once that the news was not palatable to him.</p> + +<p>'Is that necessary, Audrey?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, father; I think I may say that it is necessary. I +have kept away from the Gray Cottage all this time because I +knew that it was your wish that I should do so, and I have +ever been guided by your wishes; but now Mrs. Blake is going +away, and it would trouble me greatly if she were to leave +without my bidding her good-bye.'</p> + +<p>'I think it would be far better, for her sake as well as yours, +that there should be no special leave-taking.'</p> + +<p>'There I must differ from you, father dear,' returned Audrey +gently. 'I could not bring myself to put such an affront on +Cyril's mother. You know, I am still engaged to Cyril, and +his mother can never be a stranger to me.'</p> + +<p>Then Dr. Ross regarded his daughter with a grieved expression.</p> + +<p>'My own child, if you would only be guided by me in this!—if +you would give up this young man entirely——'</p> + +<p>Then she shook her head, and a grave, sweet smile came to +her lips.</p> + +<p>'Would you have me break my word, father, because Cyril +has broken his? But I do not blame him—he was obliged to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_405" id="Page_405">{405}</a></span> +do it; but no power on earth could compel me. Dear, why +should we speak of this thing—you and I? When one's mind +is made up, there is nothing more to be said. In everything +else I will obey you as a child ought to obey her father. If +you tell me that I must not go to the Gray Cottage to-morrow, +you shall be obeyed, no matter what it may cost me; but'—pressing +her lips to his forehead as she leant against him—'I do +not think my father will be such a tyrant.'</p> + +<p>'I have no wish to tyrannise, Audrey,' returned Dr. Ross +sadly. 'In all I have said, I have only considered your happiness. +If you feel that there is this need to bid Mrs. Blake +good-bye, I shall certainly not prevent you. I know I can +trust my daughter. I have wished that the break should be +final and conclusive, but it seems that you think otherwise.'</p> + +<p>'After to-morrow the separation will be as complete as you +desire it to be.'</p> + +<p>'I am thankful to hear it. Of all women, I believe Mrs. +Blake to be the most unsatisfactory. Audrey, my child, at the +risk of paining you, I must say one word. There must be no +written communication between her and you.'</p> + +<p>'No, father; I should not wish it. Any such letters would +be impossible—at least, to me. Mollie will write to me sometimes, +and I suppose I shall answer her letters; but she will +not write often.'</p> + +<p>'I think I should tell her to write as seldom as possible. +Mollie is a nice little girl, and we are all fond of her; but I +should be inclined to doubt her discretion.'</p> + +<p>Then Audrey smiled faintly, and promised that Mollie's +correspondence should be enclosed within strict limits. She +knew well what her father meant. Mollie's letters would be +overflowing with allusions to her brother; her simplicity would +know no reticence.</p> + +<p>'I think you may trust me,' she said, after a moment's +silence. 'Of course I understand what you mean.'</p> + +<p>'Then in that case we will not say any more about it,' replied +her father. Trust her!—he knew that he could absolutely rely +on her. When had she ever disappointed him? Of all girls, +he had never known one so free from guile, so utterly transparent; +there could be no shadow of doubt in his mind concerning +her. And as he kissed her, and again wished her good-night, +he blessed her in his heart for being such a daughter to +him.</p> + +<p>Audrey had carried her point. Her visit to Mrs. Blake had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_406" id="Page_406">{406}</a></span> +appeared to her in the light of an imperative duty; but it may +be doubted whether she looked forward to it with any feeling +of pleasure.</p> + +<p>Up to the present time she had spoken as little as possible +of Mrs. Blake. She had only said a word or two to Cyril, +begging him to make peace with his mother; she had asked +him to soften his heart to her. 'With all her faults, I think +no mother ever loved her son so well,' she had told him. 'It +is not the highest love,' she had continued, 'since she has +stooped to deceit and wrong for your sake. But it is not for +you to judge her.' And she knew instinctively that her pleading +had had weight with him.</p> + +<p>But though she had found words to defend her, she knew +that Mrs. Blake could never be to her the friend she had been; +and the shock of this discovery had been dreadful to her. She +might still love and pity Cyril's mother; she might even be +desirous of serving her; but the charm was broken, and, as far +as Audrey's happiness was concerned, it might be well that the +distance was widened between them.</p> + +<p>When she rose the next morning, she felt as though some +difficult and painful duty lay before her; and as she walked +towards the Cottage in the sunshine of an April afternoon, she +told herself that her visit must not be a long one.</p> + +<p>A rush of bitter-sweet memories came over her as she pushed +open the green gate for the last time, and Zack bounded to +meet her. As she stooped to caress him, and he rested his +glossy head against her with a dog's unreasoning adoration, she +said in a low voice: 'Zack, old fellow, you will be glad to be +with your master again.' And he whined, as though in joyful +assent.</p> + +<p>There were no signs of either Mollie or Biddy, so she went +up as usual—unannounced. The drawing-room door was open, +and as her footsteps sounded in the passage Mrs. Blake came +quietly out. She stepped back as she saw Audrey, and a slight +colour came to her face.</p> + +<p>'It is you—at last!' she said abruptly; but there was no +other greeting.</p> + +<p>'Yes, it is I,' returned Audrey, kissing her, and speaking in +her usual tranquil manner. 'Do you think I should have let +you leave Rutherford without bidding you good-bye!'</p> + +<p>Then Mrs. Blake's eyes had a dangerous gleam in them.</p> + +<p>'How could I know that they would let you come?' she +said almost harshly. 'Am I not a pariah, an outcast from all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_407" id="Page_407">{407}</a></span> +respectable society? Does not Dr. Ross think so, as well as +that excellent sister of yours? Do you know what my life has +been during the last fortnight, since my boy left me? I have +not dared to leave my own gate; if I were stifled for air, I +would not venture to stir out, for fear of seeing a face I know.'</p> + +<p>'You need not have been afraid; no one in Rutherford has +heard your story.'</p> + +<p>'But they may have heard it by this time. You forget +that Dr. Charrington and Mr. Harcourt have been told. A +man would never keep such a secret from his wife. Mrs. +Charrington may have told it to half the masters' wives by this +time; this is why I have begged Cyril to take me away, because +my life is unendurable.'</p> + +<p>'You are going to him now,' observed Audrey soothingly, +for she saw at once that Mrs. Blake was in one of her unhappy +moods.</p> + +<p>She was thin and pale, and there was a sharpened look +about her features, as though her inward excitement had worn +her.</p> + +<p>'Yes, I am going to him; but what good will my life be to +me? He has forgiven me—at least, he says so—but every hour +of the day his sadness will be a reproach to me. When I see +his unhappiness, how am I to bear it, when I know it is all +my fault? Audrey, tell me one thing: you are still engaged +to him?'</p> + +<p>'Yes,' returned Audrey very softly, 'I am still engaged to +him.'</p> + +<p>'Captain Burnett told me so; he said you had refused to +give him up. Oh, my darling, how I loved you when he said +that! It was brave of you to say such words, but my boy +deserves them. If ever a girl was worshipped, he worshipped +you.'</p> + +<p>'Dear Mrs. Blake, I think we will not speak of that.'</p> + +<p>'Why should we not speak of it? It is the only thing that +will comfort me, and him too. Ah, if you only loved him as +he loves you, there would be no difficulty. Many a girl has +given up more for her lover than you will ever be asked to give +up, and has found her reward in a happy life.'</p> + +<p>'I will not pretend to misunderstand you,' returned Audrey +simply; but she felt as she spoke that her father had been +right to dread this interview. 'I know what you would insinuate—you +would have me marry Cyril without my parents' +consent.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_408" id="Page_408">{408}</a></span></p> + +<p>'I would,' was Mrs. Blake's unabashed reply; 'and where +would be the harm, Audrey? You are of age; you have your +own money. No one has a right to prevent your marriage. +Of course, your people would be angry at first, but after a time +they would relent. My darling girl, think of it: would it not +be a noble act of self-sacrifice? And it would save Cyril!'</p> + +<p>'He would not wish to save himself at the risk of my happiness +and peace of mind,' she replied calmly. 'Dear Mrs. Blake, +how strange that you should not know your own son better +than that! Cyril would never marry me without my father's +consent, neither would I marry him. Under such circumstances +we should both be wretched.'</p> + +<p>'And you call that love?' returned Mrs. Blake with a sneer. +'I am different from you, Audrey. I would have given up +home, country, everything, for the sake of the man I loved; +that is why I hated Mat, because I was bound to him, and the +other man was free. It just maddened me! What!' interrupting +herself, 'are you going to leave me?'</p> + +<p>'It is useless to stay,' returned Audrey, in a pained voice. +'If you talk like this, it is far better for me to go.'</p> + +<p>Then Mrs. Blake burst into passionate tears, and clasped +her in her arms.</p> + +<p>'Going! when I have never thanked you for your goodness +to my boy; when I have never told you how dearly I have loved +you for it! Audrey, forgive me, and stay with me a little, and +I will try not to talk so wildly. It makes me feel better only +to look at you—and you used to love me a little.'</p> + +<p>Then very reluctantly Audrey suffered herself to be persuaded, +and to remain for another half-hour.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_409" id="Page_409">{409}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIV" id="CHAPTER_XLIV"></a>CHAPTER XLIV</h2> + +<h3>MOLLIE GOES INTO EXILE</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>'There are some natures that cannot unfold under pressure, or in the +presence of unregarding power. Hers was one. They require a clear space +round them, the removal of everything which may overmaster them, and +constant delicate attention.'—<span class="smcap">Mark Rutherford.</span></p></div> + + +<p>Audrey had no cause to regret her concession. Mrs. Blake +quieted down the moment she resumed her seat; and though +the remainder of her conversation concerned herself and Cyril, +she did not venture again on any dangerous allusion.</p> + +<p>It was only when Audrey said that she must really go, as +she had promised her mother to be back by tea-time, that she +made an attempt to coax her into sending Cyril a message; but +Audrey's strong sense of honour made her proof against this +temptation. She would send him no message at all. Even if +she thought it right to do so, how could she rely on Mrs. Blake's +veracity? how could she be sure that it might not be delivered +with annotations from her own fertile brain?</p> + +<p>'But you will at least send him your love?' pleaded Mrs. +Blake.</p> + +<p>'There is no need for me to send him that,' returned Audrey +with rising colour. 'Indeed, there is no need of any message +at all: Cyril and I understand each other.'</p> + +<p>And then Mrs. Blake cried a little and called her a hard-hearted +girl, but relented the next minute, and kissed her +affectionately.</p> + +<p>'You will tell Mollie to come to me as usual to-morrow?' +were Audrey's parting words, and Mrs. Blake nodded assent.</p> + +<p>As Audrey opened the green gate some impulse made her +look back. Mrs. Blake was still on the threshold, watching +her, and her large dark eyes were full of tears. There was +something pathetic in her appearance. With a sudden impulse,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_410" id="Page_410">{410}</a></span> +for which she was unable to account, Audrey went back and +gave her another kiss.</p> + +<p>'We do not know when we shall meet again,' she said in a +low voice. 'Try to be as happy as you can, and to make him +happy too.'</p> + +<p>She was glad that it was over, she told herself, as she +walked back to Woodcote; nevertheless, she could not shake off +a certain sense of depression. That dear Gray Cottage—how +she had grown to love it, and what happy hours she had passed +there, sitting by that window and watching the pigeons fluttering +among the arches! Her heart was soft towards the woman she +had left. Could she help it, she thought, if her moral sense +were blunted and distorted? There was something defective +and warped in her nature—something that seemed to make her +less accountable than other people. Truth was not dear to her, +or her marriage-vows sacred in her eyes. How came it that she +and Matthew O'Brien should have a son like Cyril? Audrey's +girlish brains grew confused over questions that might well +baffle a psychologist; she could make nothing of them.</p> + +<p>Mollie came to her the next morning with her eyes swollen +with crying.</p> + +<p>'Oh, dear Miss Ross!' she exclaimed, the moment she +entered the room, 'do you know mamma says that we are going +away to-morrow? I thought it was to be next week, and Biddy +thought so too; but mamma says that Cyril is all alone in the +lodgings, and that we ought to go to him at once. Biddy and +she are packing up the books and things, and mamma seemed +to think that I ought to have remained to help her; but I told +her that I must—I must say-good-bye to my dear, dear Miss +Ross;' and here Mollie gave her a low-spirited hug.</p> + +<p>'My dear Mollie,' returned Audrey kindly, 'I have arranged +that already with your mother, and you are to spend the whole +morning with me. We will not do any lessons; I can see you +are not fit for them. And it is such a lovely morning. We +will go in the garden, and sit on that nice sunny seat overlooking +Deep-water Chine. Do you remember our voyage there, +and how contemptuous you were about the scenery?' but this +allusion to one of the happiest days she had ever spent in her +young life only brought on a fresh burst of grief.</p> + +<p>Poor Mollie was broken-hearted at the idea of leaving her +friend, and it was a long time before Audrey could induce her +to look at things in a less lugubrious light. Michael, prowling +about with his cigarette, and followed closely by his short-legged<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_411" id="Page_411">{411}</a></span> +favourite, came upon them sitting hand-in-hand on a bench +near the pond; but he was careful not to betray his presence, +and he called off Booty rather sternly when the affectionate +little animal showed some disposition to join his friends. Neither +of them saw him. Audrey was talking earnestly, but he only +heard a fragment of what she was saying.</p> + +<p>'So you see, dear Mollie,' she went on, in a soft, persuasive +voice, 'that you will be as great a comfort to me when you are +away as you have been here. When I think of you all, I shall +say to myself: "Mollie is taking care of them."'</p> + +<p>'Yes, I see; and indeed, indeed I will try to do my best for +Cyril and mamma,' replied Mollie, with a sob. 'I know how +unhappy poor Cyril is; and mamma will not be the comfort to +him that she used to be. Is it not sad to think of it, Miss +Ross? Mamma sometimes shows me his letters—she always +did, you know—but somehow they seem so different. I wonder +sometimes if she notices the change in them; but she never +says so. He does not want her to come up to London—one can +see that so plainly—he keeps begging her to be patient, and +give him time to settle things. But you know mamma: she +is always in such a hurry—she never can wait for anything,' +finished Mollie, in her artless way.</p> + +<p>Audrey suppressed a smile. Mrs. Blake's children certainly +read her truly; but with all her faults they loved her well. +Perhaps Kester had stood aloof from her most; but Mollie had +always been devoted to her mother.</p> + +<p>'You will miss the country, of course,' went on Audrey +cheerfully; 'but London has its charms. You must get your +brother to take you in the parks and Kensington Gardens; you +must tell him that you and Zack want exercise, and then he +will not refuse.'</p> + +<p>'Mamma will walk with me,' returned Mollie disconsolately. +'She is very fond of crowded streets and shops; she will want +me to go with her, and then we shall be obliged to leave Zack +at home, for fear he should be lost. Oh, I know all about it!' +continued Mollie, with a sigh. 'I shall be far too tired to walk +with Cyril, even if he asked me; but he would not, because he +knows mamma would be hurt: she always likes him to ask her.'</p> + +<p>'Never mind,' replied Audrey, changing the subject abruptly. +'Remember, Mollie, we can only do our best for people, and +leave all the rest. I am sure that in a thousand ways you will +be a comfort to them. You have always been their thoughtful +little housekeeper, and you can be that still. You can keep<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_412" id="Page_412">{412}</a></span> +the place bright and cheery, and make it look as home-like as +possible. And, Mollie, I want you to do something; but it is +to be a secret between you and me, and no one—no one'—repeating +the word emphatically—'is to know about it.'</p> + +<p>And Mollie promised faithfully to hold her tongue.</p> + +<p>'Your mother is passionately fond of flowers.' (But +Audrey, in her heart, knew someone else loved them too.) 'I +want you to lay out this prudently and by degrees;' and she +slipped a sovereign into Mollie's hand. 'Flowers are so +plentiful in London, and you can always have a nice fresh +bunch for the breakfast-table. I remember your mother once +saying she would go without food to buy flowers. When I +think you have come to an end of the money, I shall send you +some more.'</p> + +<p>'But if anyone asks me who bought them,' asked Mollie, +with one of her wide-open glances, 'what can I say then, Miss +Ross?'</p> + +<p>'Say that you have bought them with your own money—for +it is your money, Mollie; and if you would rather buy +gloves with it, you are welcome to do so.'</p> + +<p>But Mollie protested eagerly that she would far rather buy +flowers.</p> + +<p>'Cyril is so fond of them,' she added innocently, 'and I +shall always take care to have a good-sized bunch on his +writing-table. But what shall I do about lessons, Miss +Ross?' she continued, when this point was settled. 'I am +getting on so beautifully with French and music, and it will +be such a pity to lose it all. I asked mamma the other +evening, and she said she was sure she did not know; she +might help me with my French, but she was afraid Cyril could +not afford music-lessons. Besides, there would be the piano +to hire; for of course I must practise. Oh dear! I don't see +how I am to get on!' with another big sigh.</p> + +<p>'I think we must leave all that for the present, dear +Mollie,' replied Audrey, rather sorrowfully. 'One needs a +great deal of faith when things go crooked. Keep up by +yourself as well as you can, and leave the music alone for a +little. By and by, when you think he can bear it, you might +speak to your brother; but if he cannot afford it——'</p> + +<p>Audrey stopped. Michael's generosity must not be taxed +any further; but she had money of her own, and nothing +would please her more than to spend a little on Mollie's +education. Would her father allow it? she wondered.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_413" id="Page_413">{413}</a></span></p> + +<p>'I think we must leave this question for the present, +Mollie,' she said, in her decided way. 'Make up your mind +not to trouble about it for a month or two.'</p> + +<p>And Mollie, with her usual sweet unselfishness, agreed +to this.</p> + +<p>Audrey sent her away cheered, and a good deal comforted, +at receiving her dear Miss Ross's permission to write long +letters.</p> + +<p>'I don't mind how long they are,' Audrey had observed, +with an indulgent smile; 'but you must not write too often, +neither must you expect to hear from me always in return. +My letters will be very few, dear Mollie, and they are only +for your own eyes—remember that.' And when Mollie had +promised this with some reluctance, the gong sounded for +luncheon, and Audrey was obliged to dismiss her a little +hurriedly.</p> + +<p>Audrey was surprised to find how much she missed her +favourite. Mollie's lessons had occupied the greater part of +her mornings, and lately this occupation had been a boon +to her.</p> + +<p>Audrey had never loved idleness, but now she loathed it; +her girlish employments no longer satisfied her. She made +wider margins for her activity, and schemed with an anxiety +that looked like restlessness how she might fill up the day.</p> + +<p>Perhaps her happiest hours, after Mollie left her, were +spent in the Hillside nursery, playing with her baby-nephew. +Geraldine noticed with secret satisfaction that her boy was +becoming an engrossing interest to his young aunt.</p> + +<p>'I am sure he knows you, Audrey,' she would say. 'Look +how he stretches out his dear little arms and coos to you to +take him! Go to Aunt Audrey, my precious!' and Geraldine +would place him in her sister's arms as though she loved to see +them together.</p> + +<p>Geraldine had certain fine instincts of her own. Her +womanly intuition told her that nothing could be more healing +than the touch of those baby fingers. When Audrey sat +down opposite to her, with her nephew sprawling on her lap, +and kicking up his pink toes in a baby's aimless fashion, her +face always looked happier, and a more contented look came +into her eyes.</p> + +<p>'You are very like your mother, Leonard,' she would say to +him: 'but I do not believe that you will ever be as handsome.'</p> + +<p>Baby's gurgling answer was no doubt rich with infantile<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_414" id="Page_414">{414}</a></span> +wisdom, if he could only have couched it in mortal language. +But, all the same, he was fulfilling his mission. Audrey felt +somehow as though things must come right some day when +baby gripped her finger and held it fast, or else tangled her +hair. 'You are a happy woman, Gage,' she said one day; +but she was a little sorry that she made the remark when +Geraldine got up quickly and kissed her, with tears in her eyes.</p> + +<p>'You will be happy, too, some day, my darling,' she said +very tenderly. But to this Audrey made no reply.</p> + +<p>Mollie was faithful to her compact, and did not write for +three whole weeks. The school had reassembled by that time, +and a tall, pale young man with spectacles filled Cyril's place +at table. Audrey took very little notice of him. When +Michael was there, she talked to him; but she found any +conversation with the new-comer almost impossible.</p> + +<p>'It hurts me to see him there,' she said once to her +mother, and her lip quivered as she spoke. And of course her +mother understood her.</p> + +<p>'Yes, dear, it is very hard; your father was only saying so +last night. I think he notices how silent you are at luncheon. +Mr. Gisbourne is certainly not prepossessing—not like our +dear Cyril; but your father says he is an excellent fellow.'</p> + +<p>'I think I shall change my place at table, mother. I shall +sit between you and father. That is, if you do not mind,' she +added, with ready courtesy.</p> + +<p>'My love, as though I should mind! And I am sure your +father will be delighted to have you. He was only speaking +of you an hour ago. He thinks you are behaving so well, +Audrey, and so does Percival. Percival declared that he was +quite proud of you at the Charringtons' "at home"; that it +must have been such an ordeal for you to meet all those +people. A girl in your position is generally so sensitive; but +he told me that even Geraldine could not have been more +dignified and at her ease.'</p> + +<p>'That is high praise from Percival,' returned Audrey, +smiling. 'He thinks Gage's manners are perfection—and so +they are; but, mother, he need not have praised me so much. +The people were nothing to me—I hardly thought of them at +all. I was only remembering the last time I was there, and +how Cyril was with me; it was the saddest evening I have +spent yet.'</p> + +<p>And then she sighed and disengaged herself from her +mother's embrace.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_415" id="Page_415">{415}</a></span></p> + +<p>'Don't let us talk of it, mother dear; one can bear things +better if one does not speak of them. I am going to drive with +Gage now, and perhaps she will keep me to dinner;' and then +she went quickly away.</p> + +<p>After all, it was better to do something than to waste her +time in complaining: it was seldom that she allowed herself to +speak of her feelings even to her mother, and if she suffered a +word or two to escape her, she always reproached herself afterwards +for her weakness.</p> + +<p>When Mollie's letter arrived the next day she left it unopened +until she was in her own room. Michael was up in +town, as usual. He rarely spent more than a few days together +at Woodcote now. Audrey did not regret his absence as she +would otherwise have done, because she knew he would be with +Cyril.</p> + +<p>When her father glanced at her letter she said quietly that +it was from Mollie, and then he made no further observation.</p> + +<p>But when she was in her own room she opened it somewhat +eagerly. 'Dear little Mollie! I never thought I should miss +her quite so much,' she thought.</p> + +<p>Evidently Mollie had taken a long time to write that letter; +it had been commenced two days after her arrival in London, +and it had not been completed until now.</p> + +<p>The first two or three pages, written in Mollie's girlish +angular handwriting, were filled with plaintive lamentations +over her enforced exile and separation from her dear Miss Ross; +and here and there a bleared word showed touchingly where a +great tear had rolled down and blotted the page; but the next +entry, written a few days afterwards, showed some signs that +the prospect had brightened a little. One passage gave great +pleasure to Audrey:</p> + +<p>'Mamma likes our lodgings excessively, and though I shall +never love any place like our dear Gray Cottage, they are really +very nice; indeed, they are better than any lodgings we have +been in yet. Mamma says she never saw rooms so well furnished; +the carpets and papers are rather ugly, and I cannot +say much for the curtains; but there is a delicious couch—one +of those soft, springy ones that are so comfortable, rather like +the one in the Woodcote drawing-room, and two delightfully +easy chairs.</p> + +<p>'Then, in the little room we call Cyril's study, there is really +a very handsome writing-table, with one of those green reading-lamps +that Dr. Ross always uses, and a nice little secretaire<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_416" id="Page_416">{416}</a></span> +for papers. Mamma was so charmed when she saw that; she +told Cyril that he only wanted a few stained shelves to hold +his books, and that then he would be as snug as possible. I +thought Cyril looked a little queer when she said that, and +when she exclaimed at the softness of the couch I saw such an +odd smile on his face. I fancy he must have bought it himself, +and that he does not wish mamma to know it.' ('Oh, you +little goose!' observed Audrey, when she came to this; but +her eyes were very bright as she went on with the letter.)</p> + +<p>'There were such quantities of flowers and plants about the +room when we arrived, and the most beautiful tea set out on +the big round table. Mamma laughed, and said Cyril was +very extravagant to provide such luxuries; but he told her he +had had nothing to do with it, and he did not seem to enjoy +anything.</p> + +<p>'I am afraid he works too hard. Mamma is beginning to +say that she might as well have remained in Rutherford, for +all she sees of him; but I know she does not mean it, for she +is as happy as possible.</p> + +<p>'Cyril never gets home until half-past six, and then we +have tea. His pupil comes to him at eight for two hours. I +think Zack has the best of it. Cyril always takes him out for +a long walk before breakfast. I should like to go with them, +but I think Cyril prefers going alone. He only walks with +mamma on Sunday afternoon, and then he comes in looking so +tired. He often falls asleep when he sits down. I never +remember his ever doing such a thing before; but mamma says +she is sure that he sleeps badly, though he will never own to +it. Cyril never did like to be questioned about himself.</p> + +<p>'We see Captain Burnett sometimes, and Cyril says he often +meets him on his way home. One day Captain Burnett asked +me if I should like to see some pictures, and of course I said +yes. We drove such a long way in a hansom, and I did so +enjoy seeing all those beautiful pictures. Captain Burnett was +kind; he explained everything to me, and when he thought I was +tired he took me to a grand place, where we had ices and coffee.</p> + +<p>'He asked me a great many questions, and when I told him +that I had no one to teach me now I had left my dear Miss +Ross, he looked very grave. He wanted to know if mamma +did not help me at all, and I was obliged to confess that the +French books were still unopened; and then he looked grave +again and said, "Poor little thing!" as though he were sorry +for me.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_417" id="Page_417">{417}</a></span></p> + +<p>'Well, was it not strange?—the very next night Cyril began +talking to mamma about it. He told her that now Kester +was away they ought to be able to afford to give me a good +education, that they were not poorer than they had been at +Rutherford, and that something must be done at once.</p> + +<p>'Cyril spoke as though he thought mamma was to blame, +and then mamma cried, as she always does if Cyril finds fault +with her; but the very next day she went out alone, and in +the evening she told Cyril that she had found a very good school +close by our lodgings, where they had excellent masters, and +that she had arranged that I was to go there four times a week +to take French, German, and music lessons. I could see Cyril +was pleased, though he said very little, but by and by he asked +me what I should do about a piano, and mamma suggested +that we should hire one. Is this not nice, my dear Miss Ross, +and is not Cyril a darling for thinking of everything so +nicely?'</p> + +<p>'Ah, Mollie, I am afraid you are a sad goose!' was Audrey's +inward ejaculation at this point, and there was a smile on her +lips as she finished the letter.</p> + +<p>Michael was fulfilling his promise nobly. Audrey knew him +well enough to be sure that those meetings with Cyril were by +no means accidental. 'Whatsoever thou doest, do it with thy +might,' was a precept literally obeyed by Michael Burnett. +When he held out that right hand of fellowship to his rival, +there was no sense of grudging in his mind. If a cheery word +or two would brighten Cyril's day, and make his hard life a +little less unendurable, Michael would speak that word at the +cost of any inconvenience to himself. Audrey may be forgiven +if she cherished the notion that Michael's frequent visits to +London were undertaken more for Cyril's benefit than his own; +and if Michael could have given a somewhat different version +of his motives, he kept all such interpretation to himself.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_418" id="Page_418">{418}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLV" id="CHAPTER_XLV"></a>CHAPTER XLV</h2> + +<h3>AUDREY RECEIVES A TELEGRAM</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>'One fourth of life is intelligible, the other three-fourths is unintelligible +darkness; and our earliest duty is to cultivate the habit of not looking +round the corner.'—<span class="smcap">Mark Rutherford.</span></p></div> + +<table summary="quotation"> +<tr><td> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse">'Thou shalt lose thy life, and find it; thou shalt boldly cast it forth;</div> +<div class="verse">And then back again receiving, know it in its endless worth.'</div> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<div class="sign"><span class="smcap">Archbishop Trench.</span></div> +</div> +</td></tr> +</table> + + +<p>Audrey thought it was the longest summer term that she had +ever known; never in her life had weeks or months passed so +slowly.</p> + +<p>To all outward appearance she was well and cheerful, and +spent her time much as usual—helping her mother and visiting +her poor people in the morning, and in the afternoon attending +cricket matches or playing tennis at the various garden-parties +of the season. The nine days' wonder about the Blakes' sudden +disappearance was over, and the Rutherford ladies no longer +whispered strange tales into each other's ears—each more +marvellous than the last. It was said and believed by more +than one person that Audrey's engagement had been broken off +because Dr. Ross had discovered that there was hereditary +insanity in the Blake family; indeed, one lady—a notorious +gossip, and who was somewhat deaf—was understood to say +that she had heard Mrs. Blake was at that moment in a private +lunatic asylum.</p> + +<p>That Audrey Ross did not take her broken engagement much +to heart was the general opinion in Rutherford. Would a girl +play tennis, dance, or organise picnics, they said, if she were +languishing in heart-sickness?—and there was certainly no +appearance of effort in the readiness with which Audrey +responded to any plan that her young friends proposed. As +they remarked, 'Audrey Ross was always up to fun.' But<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_419" id="Page_419">{419}</a></span> +Michael Burnett could have told them a different story if they +had asked him. Audrey's sweet, sound disposition made her +peculiarly alive to a sense of duty.</p> + +<p>'One must think of other people, always and under all +circumstances,' she had said to him when her trouble was fresh +upon her, and he knew that she was only acting up to her words.</p> + +<p>She would play because other people wished to play, not +because her heart was in it. During his brief visits to Woodcote +they were always together, and more than once he told himself +that he could see a great change in her. She had at times a +tired, burdened look, as though weary thoughts were habitual +to her. But she never spoke to him of Cyril, or questioned him +in any way. He would tell her unasked about Mollie, and now +and then he would drop a word casually about Cyril.</p> + +<p>'I met Blake the other day,' he would say. 'I think he +looks better, though he says the hot weather tries him; he is +getting on with his work, and appears to like it.' Or another +time: 'I dined with Unwin last week; he and Blake seem to +hit it off famously. Unwin says he has far more discrimination +and intelligence than other young men of his age, and that for +steadiness and application he might be fifty. But he thinks he +ought to take more exercise; his hard work and the heat +together are making him thin.'</p> + +<p>Audrey remembered this speech of Michael's, as, a month +later on, she sat on the Whitby sands. She had yielded to +Geraldine's persuasion to accompany them to the seaside. Dr. +Ross and his wife were paying visits in Cumberland, Michael +was in North Wales with an artist friend, and Audrey had +accepted her sister's invitation very willingly.</p> + +<p>Both Percival and Geraldine were very kind to her, she +thought. They let her wander about alone and do as she liked, +and they were always ready to plan something for her enjoyment—a +drive or a sail, or a day on the moors. Audrey liked being +with them, and baby Leonard was more fascinating than ever; +yet it may be doubted if she would not have been happier at +Rutherford. The absence of all duties, of any settled employment, +tried her. A holiday, to be thoroughly enjoyed, must +be attended with a disengaged mind, and with a certain freedom +from worry; and this was not possible with Audrey. She +would talk to her sister cheerfully, or play with Leonard, and +she was an intelligent companion for Mr. Harcourt when they +took long walks together; but in her moments of solitude, +when she roamed alone over the yellow sands with the fresh<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_420" id="Page_420">{420}</a></span> +salt wind blowing in her face, her thoughts would be sad enough +as she thought of Cyril in his hot London lodgings.</p> + +<p>'Oh, my darling, if you could only be with me and feel this +wind!' she would think, with a great rush of pity and tenderness; +'if I could only take your place a little and bear things +for you!' and the sense that she could do nothing for him would +lie like a load on her heart.</p> + +<p>'I think Audrey is getting over her trouble,' Geraldine said +one day to her husband. 'Baby is doing her good; and really, +when she is playing with him she seems just like her dear old +self.'</p> + +<p>'Of course she will get over it,' returned Mr. Harcourt +impatiently; 'all girls do. I tell you what, Jerry: when we +get back to Hillside we will have Graham down to stop +with us.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, did you mean Lionel Graham all the time?' returned +Geraldine, opening her eyes very widely. 'Is he the man you +always wanted for Audrey? He is nice, of course—all the +Grahams are nice—but he is dreadfully ugly.'</p> + +<p>'Nonsense, my love! Graham ugly, with that fine head of +his! I tell you the girl is lucky who gets such a clever fellow. +I recollect he was rather struck with her last spring. We will +have him down and see if they can take to each other.'</p> + +<p>'But, Percy dear, you forget Audrey declares she is still +engaged to Cyril Blake.'</p> + +<p>'Stuff and nonsense!' replied her husband, waxing exceedingly +irate at this remark. 'I wonder at you—I do indeed!—repeating +anything so ridiculous! Has not Blake given her +up?—and very proper of him, too—and has not your father +forbidden her to have anything more to do with him? My love, +with all my respect for your judgment, I must differ from you. +Audrey is not the girl to propose anything so indelicate—so +altogether wanting in propriety—as to thrust herself upon a +man who very properly declines to marry her. No, no; we will +have Graham down. He is a first-rate fellow, and when he +makes up his mind to a thing, he sticks at nothing. That's +the way to win a girl—eh, Jerry?' And Geraldine blushed +beautifully as she recalled Percival's bold wooing.</p> + +<p>'Well, do as you like,' she said tranquilly; 'but I don't +believe Audrey will look at him.' And then she made signs to +the nurse to bring her the baby; and Mr. Harcourt forgot his +match-making schemes as he played with his son and heir.</p> + +<p>Audrey was the only one who was glad when the time came<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_421" id="Page_421">{421}</a></span> +for them to return to Rutherford: her mother's face was a +delicious sight to her; and as she presided again at her little +tea-table she gave vent to a fervent 'Oh, how glad I am to be +at home again!'</p> + +<p>'That sounds as though you have not enjoyed your holiday, +Audrey; and yet Geraldine was so pleased to have you.'</p> + +<p>'But I have enjoyed myself, mother dear. Whitby is +beautiful, and I did just what I liked, and Gage and Percival +could not have been kinder or more thoughtful; and then +Leonard is such a darling!'</p> + +<p>'You look all the better for your change; but you are still +a little thin, love,' returned her mother, scrutinising her +daughter rather narrowly. But Audrey disclaimed this charge: +if she were thin, it was because Percival had taken her such +long walks, she declared. But she was not thin—she was +very well; only she was tired of her idleness, and meant to +work hard.</p> + +<p>'I wish Michael were at home,' she went on. 'He has +returned from Wales, but he means to stay for a week or two +in South Audley Street. Kester is with him. Home is never +quite the same without Michael,' she finished, looking round +her as though she missed something.</p> + +<p>Michael had really stayed up in London for Kester's sake; +but he was glad of any excuse that kept him away from +Woodcote. When Kester's visit was over, he went with him to +Victoria, and saw him off. He had some business in Aldersgate +Street, and he thought he might as well take a Circle train, +and go on. Michael always hated business in the City—the +noise of the crowded thoroughfares jarred on him—and he +thought he might as well get it over. He had finished his +business, and was walking down Cheapside, when, to his +surprise, he saw Cyril Blake coming out of a shop. Cyril +seemed equally surprised at this unexpected <i>rencontre</i>.</p> + +<p>'I know you haunt Cromwell and Exhibition Roads,' he +said, in rather an amused tone; 'but I always understood +you shunned the City.'</p> + +<p>'So I do; but one may have business there sometimes,' +returned Michael, linking his arm in Cyril's; for the two had +grown fast friends, in spite of the disparity in their ages. 'I +suppose it would be inquisitive on my part to ask what brings +you here at this time in the afternoon?'</p> + +<p>'Not at all. I have only been to my tailor's,' replied +Cyril, smiling. 'I am not a swell like you, and City prices<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_422" id="Page_422">{422}</a></span> +suit my pocket better than West-End ones. I was feeling +rather dilapidated, so, as Unwin dismissed me early this afternoon, +I thought I would attend to my outer man.'</p> + +<p>'You would have been wiser to have run down to Teddington +and had a pull up the river. You look as though +you want fresh air, Blake. I don't know about your outer +man, as you call it; but I must say you look uncommonly seedy.'</p> + +<p>'Do I? Oh, I am all right,' he added hastily. 'I have not +been used to spend a summer in town. How did you get on +in Worth Wales, Burnett? I was never there, but I hear the +scenery is beautiful.'</p> + +<p>'So it is. You should see some of Jack Cooper's sketches; +they would give an idea of the place;' and Michael launched +into an enthusiastic description of a thunderstorm he had +witnessed under Snowdon. 'I took Booty to pay his devoirs +at the tomb of Bethgelert. On the whole, I think Booty +enjoyed his trip as much as we did.'</p> + +<p>Michael had so much to say about his trip, that they found +themselves on the platform before he had half finished. It was +half-past five by this time, and a good many business men +were returning home. The station was somewhat crowded, +but as they piloted their way through the knots of passengers +Michael still talked on. Cyril had listened at first with +interest; he was becoming much attached to his new friend, +and though his masculine undemonstrativeness forbade him to +say much about his feelings, his gratitude to Michael was deep +and intense, and amid his own troubles he had an unselfish +satisfaction in thinking that, whatever his own future might +be, Kester's was safe. By and by his attention began to flag; +he was watching an old man who stood at a little distance +from them at the edge of the platform. He was a very dirty +old man, and at any other time his appearance would certainly +not have inspired Cyril with the wish to look at him a second +time; but he was attracted by his swaying, lurching movements, +which would have conveyed to any practised eye that +the old reprobate was in an advanced stage of intoxication. +What if he were to lose his balance and fall over the edge of +the platform? The down train was momentarily expected. +Cyril could bear it no longer.</p> + +<p>'Excuse me, Burnett,' he said hastily; 'that old fellow +looks as though he might topple over any minute;' and before +Michael could understand what he meant, he had dived across +the platform.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_423" id="Page_423">{423}</a></span></p> + +<p>The whistle of the advancing train sounded at that moment, +and almost simultaneously there was a shriek of terror from +some woman standing at the farther end.</p> + +<p>'Poor wretch! he has done for himself,' Michael heard someone +say. 'He went clean over.'</p> + +<p>Michael was slightly short-sighted, and a crowd of people +intercepted his view, and he could not at once make his way +through them. He could not see Cyril, but the surging, excited +throng all veering towards the end of the platform told him +that some serious accident had occurred.</p> + +<p>Blake must have been an eyewitness of the whole thing, he +thought, as he tried to elbow his way through horrified men +and hysterical women. If he could only find him! And then +a very stout man in a navvy's garb blocked up his passage.</p> + +<p>'Is the poor old man killed?' Michael asked; but he feared +what the answer would be. Was the gray-headed sinner +summoned in this terrible manner to the bar of his offended +Judge?</p> + +<p>'Lord bless you, sir!' returned the man, 'he is as right as +possible; the train did not touch him. It is the other poor +fellow that is done for, I expect. Me and my mate have just +got him out.'</p> + +<p>A sudden horrible, almost sickening sensation of fear came +to Michael.</p> + +<p>'Oh, my God! not that, not that!' burst from his lips as +he literally fought his way down the platform. 'Let me pass, +sir! I believe I know him!' he cried hoarsely, and the man +in pity to his white face drew back.</p> + +<p>There was a motionless figure lying on the bench at the +other end, surrounded by porters and strangers. Michael darted +towards it, but when he caught sight of the face he uttered a +groan. Alas, alas! he knew it too well.</p> + +<p>'Give me place,' he said, almost fiercely; 'that dead man is +my friend.'</p> + +<p>'He is not dead, Burnett,' observed a gentleman, who was +supporting Cyril's head; 'but he is badly hurt, poor fellow! +We must get him away at once.'</p> + +<p>'Thank Heaven it is you, Abercrombie!' returned Michael +excitedly; 'he is safer with you than with any man alive.'</p> + +<p>But Dr. Abercrombie shook his head gravely.</p> + +<p>'My carriage is outside, and is at your service,' he said; +'and for the matter of that, so am I. Let me give these men +directions how to move him.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_424" id="Page_424">{424}</a></span></p> + +<p>Then Michael stood aside while the doctor issued his +commands.</p> + +<p>Cyril had not regained full consciousness, but as Dr. +Abercrombie placed himself beside him and applied remedies +from time to time, a low moan now and then escaped from his +lips.</p> + +<p>Michael, who had to sit with the coachman, thought that +long drive would never end, and yet Dr. Abercrombie drove +good horses. It seemed hours before they reached Mortimer +Street, and the strain on his nerves made him look so ghastly +as he went into the house to prepare Mrs. Blake, that she +uttered a shriek as soon as she saw his face.</p> + +<p>'You have come to tell me my boy is dead!' she exclaimed, +catching hold of him.</p> + +<p>'No, he is not dead; but he is badly hurt, Abercrombie +says. Let me go, Mrs. Blake; they want my help to carry him +in. Is there a room ready? Mollie, look after your mother;' +and Michael sped on his sad errand.</p> + +<p>'Do not let anyone in, Burnett, while I examine him. +Lock the door;' and Michael obeyed the doctor's orders, +though an agonised voice outside entreated admittance.</p> + +<p>Michael thought the doctor's examination would never +end; but by and by he came up to Michael and drew him +aside.</p> + +<p>'Do you wish another opinion, Burnett?' he asked abruptly; +'but it is kinder to tell you that the thing is hopeless.'</p> + +<p>'Good heavens, Abercrombie! Do you mean he will not +live?'</p> + +<p>'Only a few hours—he is hurt internally. They were both +down on the rails, you know: I saw the whole thing; and he +flung up the old man with one hand—I never saw anything so +splendidly done—but the wheel of the engine caught him, +and before they could stop the train the mischief was done.'</p> + +<p>'Will he suffer? Can nothing be done for him? Abercrombie, +I would give half my fortune to save the life of that +man.'</p> + +<p>'He will not suffer long,' returned Dr. Abercrombie kindly. +He was a rough, hard-featured Scotchman, but no man had a +better heart, as Michael knew. 'I will do all I can for him, +Burnett, for his own sake as well as yours. I think he wants +to speak to you, but he cannot talk much; it is agony to +him.'</p> + +<p>And Michael stepped up to the bed. In the emergency he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_425" id="Page_425">{425}</a></span> +had regained his old calmness of manner, and as Cyril's eyes +were fixed on his face, he bent over him and said gently:</p> + +<p>'Do not speak, my dear fellow; I know what you wish to +say. I will telegraph for her at once.'</p> + +<p>Cyril's damp, cold hand closed over his.</p> + +<p>'Thanks, thanks! that is what I wanted. She would like +it, and it will do no harm.'</p> + +<p>The last few words seemed intended for a question, and +Michael answered without hesitation.</p> + +<p>'Harm! she would never forgive us if we did not send for +her.'</p> + +<p>Then a faint light came into Cyril's eyes.</p> + +<p>'I hope for her sake I shall not suffer; but it will soon +be over: I heard him say so.' He seemed to speak with +difficulty. 'Don't look so sorry about it, Burnett; it is much +better so, and the poor old man was saved. Oh!'</p> + +<p>That expression of pain wrung unwillingly from his lips +drew the doctor to him, and he made a sign to Michael to leave +them.</p> + +<p>An hour later Audrey received the following telegram:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>'An accident. Cyril Blake badly hurt. Condition critical. +Come at once. Will meet the last train at King's Cross.'</p></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_426" id="Page_426">{426}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVI" id="CHAPTER_XLVI"></a>CHAPTER XLVI</h2> + +<h3>'INASMUCH'</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>'He, being made perfect in a short time, fulfilled a long time.'—<span class="smcap">Wisdom +of Solomon.</span></p></div> + + +<p>All her life long Audrey never forgot that long weary journey. +The lateness of the hour compelled her to take a circuitous +route to London. Dr. Ross accompanied her part of the way, +and did not leave her until he placed her under the care of the +guard, who promised to keep the compartment for her.</p> + +<p>'You will be all right now, Audrey,' he said, with a poor +attempt at cheerfulness. 'I have tipped the guard half-a-crown—a +piece of extravagance on my part, I believe, as you +only stop once between this and King's Cross, and Michael will +meet you at the other end. God bless you, my child!' he +continued, with deeper feeling, as the train began to move. +'Give my love to Cyril, and try and trust him to his Heavenly +Father.'</p> + +<p>'I will try, dear father,' was Audrey's answer.</p> + +<p>And then she leant back on her seat and attempted to pray; +but she only found herself repeating over and over again the +same petition—that she might be in time; for Michael's +message, so carefully worded, had read to her like Cyril's death-warrant. +'He will die,' she had said with tearless eyes to her +father, as she had carried him the telegram.</p> + +<p>It was eleven o'clock before she reached King's Cross; but +before the train stopped she could see Michael standing +alone under a gas-lamp, and before he discerned her she was +beside him.</p> + +<p>'Am I in time, Michael?'</p> + +<p>Then he started, and drew her hand through his arm.</p> + +<p>'Quite in time, dear; he has still a few hours to live.'</p> + +<p>For he saw at once that she was prepared for the worst.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_427" id="Page_427">{427}</a></span></p> + +<p>'That is well,' she replied calmly; 'let us go.'</p> + +<p>And then Michael handed her into the hansom.</p> + +<p>How pale she was, he thought, and how sad those dear gray +eyes looked, as she turned to him and asked that question that +he so dreaded to hear!</p> + +<p>'We are out of the station now, and I can hear better. +What was the accident, Michael? How did it all happen? +Tell me everything, please.'</p> + +<p>Then, as far as he was able, he told her all, and she heard +him very quietly, though once he felt the shudder that passed +through her when she first understood the nature of the terrible +thing that had happened.</p> + +<p>'Abercrombie saw it all from the first,' he went on; 'he +said he never saw anything so splendidly done. Not a man in +a thousand would have ventured it. What did I tell you, +Audrey?—that Blake was just the fellow to win the Victoria +Cross.'</p> + +<p>'He was very brave,' she murmured; but she trembled all +over as she spoke.</p> + +<p>'He was more than brave. What was my action in Zululand +compared to his? He stepped into the jaws of death +quietly, and with his eyes opened, for he must have known +that two could not have been saved. He has given his noble +life for a wretched worthless one. It sounds inhuman to say +it, but who would have mourned if that poor old man had +been swept away? Would it not have been better if he +had left him to his fate?'</p> + +<p>'You must not say that!' returned Audrey. And now the +tears were running down her face. 'It is this that makes it so +noble, so Christ-like—a life laid down out of love and pity for +the worthless. My brave Cyril! Who is more fit to go than +he? Ah, I knew him so well; he is very reserved; he is not +one to speak of religion—very few young men do; he never +liked to do so; but in a simple, manly way he has tried to live +it. I always knew he was good. Yes, Michael, it was better +for him to give up his fresh young life than for that old man to +die in his sins.'</p> + +<p>He could not steady his voice to answer her. Would any +other girl have taken it in this way? He felt there were +depths in her nature that he had not fathomed yet. The +nobleness of the action seemed to lift her up out of her grief. +The heroic death was a fit ending to that brave life, short as it +was.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_428" id="Page_428">{428}</a></span></p> + +<p>There were a few minutes' silence, during which she wept +quietly, and then she roused herself to ask after Mrs. Blake. +A deeper shade passed over Michael's face as she put the question.</p> + +<p>'Poor soul!' he returned in a grieved voice; 'I fear it will +go very hardly with her. Abercrombie tried to say a word to +her about her son's hopeless condition, but she dropped at his +feet like a dead thing. I had to leave him with her, and go +back to poor Blake, as he was asking for her. I am afraid +Abercrombie had to be very stern with her, for by and by +she crept in quietly enough, and sat down beside him. When I +left he was talking to her, but I do not believe that she understood +a word that he said; she looks as though she has been +turned to stone.'</p> + +<p>Audrey sighed, and a moment afterwards she said a little +wearily:</p> + +<p>'Oh, how slowly we are going! Shall we ever be there?'</p> + +<p>Then Michael took her hand gently in his; she was so +patient, so good: if only he could comfort her!</p> + +<p>'We have a very fast horse, and a capital driver. Yes, we +shall be there soon now. Your journey must have tired you, +dear. I wish someone could have come with you.'</p> + +<p>'Father wanted to do so, but I told him I would rather be +alone. Never mind about me, Michael; what does it matter +if I am tired or not? If I could only be with him! but the +time is passing so!' Then, as she saw the pained look on +Michael's face, she said in a low voice: 'Don't be too sorry for +me; it is hard—very hard—but we must only think of him;' +and then she did not speak again until the hansom stopped.</p> + +<p>Mollie was on the watch, for the door opened before they +had alighted; but as she flung her arms round Audrey with a +tearful welcome, the latter gently disengaged herself.</p> + +<p>'Do not keep me, dear Mollie; let me go to him.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, you shall go to him, dear Miss Ross; he is a little +better just now; at least, he does not suffer so much. I wish +mamma could speak to him, but she only sits there sighing as +though her heart would break, and it must be so sad for Cyril +to hear it. That is the door; you can go in;' and Audrey +needed no more.</p> + +<p>A tall, gray-haired man stood aside to let her pass, but it +may be doubted whether she even saw him, any more than she +noticed that rigid figure at the foot of the bed. Audrey saw +nothing but that death-like face on the pillow, and the glad<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_429" id="Page_429">{429}</a></span> +light in Cyril's eyes, as she went straight to him, and kneeling +down beside him, kissed his lips.</p> + +<p>'My poor Cyril! My poor, dear Cyril!' she said in a +voice that was heavenly in its sweetness to him.</p> + +<p>'No, not poor now,' he whispered, as he moved his head +until it rested on her breast. 'My darling, it is worth even +this to see you again. If you could only know what these five +months have been to me!'</p> + +<p>He spoke in a voice so low and feeble that only she could +hear him. Mrs. Blake did not move as Audrey entered; her +eyes were fixed on her boy's face. They seemed the only +living things about her. From time to time, even in his awful +suffering, he had struggled to say a word to her, but she had +scarcely answered him, though now and then a low moan issued +from her lips.</p> + +<p>'I could not have borne it much longer,' he went on, as in +her mute sympathy Audrey rested her face against his cold, +damp forehead; 'the life was killing me. How was a man +to live without hope? And I had no hope.'</p> + +<p>'I should always have loved you,' she said simply.</p> + +<p>'Yes, my own faithful one; but even your love, precious as +it was, could not have consoled me for the unnatural loneliness +that was my lot. The very knowledge that you were mine and +that I could never claim you seemed to add a deep bitterness +to my grief. Do not let us speak of that dreary time, my +darling; it is gone now, and it is come to this: that I thank +God that I lie here with only a few hours to live.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, Cyril! for your mother's sake, do not say this!'</p> + +<p>'She does not hear us,' he replied; 'she seems to take no +notice of anything. Poor, dear mother! I am sorry for +her!'</p> + +<p>'And not for me!' Audrey's unselfishness could not refrain +from that low cry.</p> + +<p>'No, not for you,' he returned tenderly. 'It is better, far +better, for you, my darling, that things are ending thus. Why +should you have wasted your sweet life for me, Audrey? I +could not have borne the sacrifice. In a little while I should +have written to you, and begged you to give me up.'</p> + +<p>'There would have been no use in writing such a letter.'</p> + +<p>Then he smiled happily, as though even on his dying bed it +gave him pleasure to hear that.</p> + +<p>'Cyril, you must not talk; Michael says it hurts you.'</p> + +<p>'No, not quite so much now; somehow the pain seems<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_430" id="Page_430">{430}</a></span> +easier, and it is such a relief to say all this. Does it make you +unhappy, darling?'</p> + +<p>'Not if it gives you comfort; you may say anything—anything—to +me.'</p> + +<p>'I only wanted to tell you that it is all right. I am glad +I did it. I have not done much for Him all my life,' dropping +his voice reverently, and she knew what he meant. '"Inasmuch"—how +does that go on, Audrey?'</p> + +<p>Then she softly repeated the words:</p> + +<p>'"Inasmuch as ye have done it to the least of these, My +brethren, ye have done it unto <i>Me</i>."'</p> + +<p>'Well, He did more than that for us. What was a moment's +pain compared with His? Audrey, do you think someone +could say a prayer?'</p> + +<p>Then Audrey suggested that they should send for Michael, +and he came at once.</p> + +<p>Cyril listened with his eyes closed; but his lips moved, and +Audrey's hand was in his all the time. He seemed a little +exhausted after this, and Dr. Abercrombie gave him some +restorative.</p> + +<p>Michael did not leave the room for long after this. He +came in from time to time to see if he were wanted. But there +was very little for anyone to do. The flame of life was flickering +to its close, and the practised eye of the physician knew that +in another hour or two all would be over.</p> + +<p>'You can go in,' he said to Mollie; 'nothing makes any +difference now.'</p> + +<p>Then Mollie crept to her brother's side.</p> + +<p>Cyril lay very quiet; but by and by he roused himself to +send a message to Kester. And then he spoke of his father.</p> + +<p>'Will you give him my love?' he said. 'I wanted to see +more of him. I think if I had only known him better I could +have loved him.'</p> + +<p>'I will tell him this, dear Cyril.'</p> + +<p>'Thank you.'</p> + +<p>And then he closed his eyes again. And as Audrey bent +over him, it seemed to her as though his face were almost +perfect in that stillness. Presently he asked his mother to +come closer, and she at once obeyed him.</p> + +<p>'Mother,' he said pleadingly, 'you will try to give me up?'</p> + +<p>But she made a gesture of dissent.</p> + +<p>'I cannot; I cannot, Cyril! I do not believe I can live +without you.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_431" id="Page_431">{431}</a></span></p> + +<p>'You have Mollie and Kester,' he panted, for her suppressed +agitation evidently disturbed him. 'Mother, I know what we +have been to each other.'</p> + +<p>Then she fell on her knees with a bitter cry.</p> + +<p>'Cyril, it is all my fault that you are lying there. Your +mother has killed you. It would not have happened but for +me. My boy! my boy! I cannot, I will not live, without you!'</p> + +<p>'Mother.'</p> + +<p>But Michael saw he could bear no more, and at a sign from +the doctor he raised the unhappy woman and led her from the +room.</p> + +<p>'It is too much for them both,' he said to Biddy; 'neither +of them can bear it.'</p> + +<p>And then he saw the old woman take her mistress in her +arms and cry over her like a child.</p> + +<p>'Biddy, I shall die too. You will bury me in my boy's +grave—my boy and me together.'</p> + +<p>But Michael heard no more. He went back to the room +just as Cyril was asking for him.</p> + +<p>'Burnett, will you say good-bye?' he gasped. 'I think it +will not be long now, and I have said good-bye to Mollie. +Oh! this pain, doctor—it has come back again. Can you do +anything for me?'</p> + +<p>But Dr. Abercrombie shook his head sorrowfully.</p> + +<p>'Never mind, then; it must be borne. Burnett, God bless +you for all you have done! You will be good to her, I know'—with +a glance at his betrothed.</p> + +<p>'I will,' returned Michael Burnett.</p> + +<p>And then the two men grasped hands.</p> + +<p>Cyril hardly spoke after this—his pain was too intense. +But once Audrey saw his eyes rest on her ring. 'It is still +there,' she heard him murmur. And another time he made +signs that she should lay his head on her shoulder.</p> + +<p>'I want to die so,' he whispered. And a little later he +asked her to kiss him again.</p> + +<p>He lay so quiet now that they thought he was going, and +Michael knelt down by the bed and offered up the commendatory +prayer. But once more the dark eyes opened: there was +a strange, unearthly light in them.</p> + +<p>'Inasmuch,' he said; 'Inasmuch——'</p> + +<p>His head fell back a little heavily, and the soul of Cyril +Blake was with its God.</p> + +<p class="thoughtbreak">******</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_432" id="Page_432">{432}</a></span></p> + +<p>'He does not suffer now,' were Audrey's first words, as she +laid him gently down and gave her last solemn kiss. When +Michael put his arm round her and led her gently away, she +offered no resistance.</p> + +<p>'I must leave you for a little while, dear,' he said, as he +stood beside her a moment; 'but I will send Mollie to +you.'</p> + +<p>Then she begged that she might be left alone.</p> + +<p>'Her mother will want her; and I would rather, much +rather, be alone.'</p> + +<p>Then, when Michael had gone, she laid her head down on +Cyril's writing-table, and the tears had their way. Until now +she had not thought of herself; but now it seemed to her as +though the world had grown suddenly cold and dark. He had +loved her—oh, how well he had loved her!—and now the Divine +will had taken him from her!</p> + +<p>But Audrey wept less for herself than for that bright young +life cut off so mysteriously in its early bloom, before its youthful +promise had come to maturity. But as her tears flowed, certain +words she had often read recurred to her mind, and comforted +her:</p> + +<p>'For honourable age is not that which standeth in length of +time, nor that is measured by number of years.</p> + +<p>'But wisdom is the gray hair unto men, and an unspotted +life is old age.</p> + +<p class="thoughtbreak">******</p> + +<p>'For his soul pleased the Lord: therefore hasted He to take +him away from the wicked.'</p> + +<p>Certainly there was no bitterness in Audrey's grief when, +a few hours later, she stood with Michael beside that still +form. How beautiful her Cyril looked! she thought; and even +Michael marvelled as he gazed at him. He lay there like a +young knight who had fallen in his maiden fight, and who in +death was still a conqueror. The living man who stood there +could almost have envied him, he was so worn and jaded with +the battle of life.</p> + +<p>'How peacefully he sleeps!' he said, in a moved voice; 'he +looks as though he were dreaming happily, Audrey. Surely it +will comfort his mother to see him like this!'</p> + +<p>'She will not see him yet; Biddy says she is too ill. We +must give her time to recover herself—the blow has been so +awfully sudden. Yes, he looks happy; my darling sleeps well. +Did you hear what he said, Michael?—that he was glad that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_433" id="Page_433">{433}</a></span> +he lay there; that it was all as it should be? If ever a man +yielded his life willingly, Cyril did!'</p> + +<p>'His life was so hard, you see.'</p> + +<p>'Yes; but he would have given it all the same if his +happiness had been perfect. He would not have stood by and +seen even a beggar perish, he was so generous. You would have +done it yourself, Michael.'</p> + +<p>'I do not know,' he returned with a shudder; 'I would +not answer for myself: it was such an awful death!'</p> + +<p>'But I can answer for you,' she replied calmly: 'you would +have done it if he had not been beforehand.'</p> + +<p>And then she moved away from him, and began to arrange +the few flowers that the people of the house had sent up to +her.</p> + +<p>Michael waited until she had finished. She was exhausted +and weary, he knew, and he was anxious to take her to South +Audley Street, where her mother would be awaiting them. +Michael had telegraphed to her earlier in the day, and the +answer had come that she was already on her way.</p> + +<p>Audrey made an attempt to see Mrs. Blake before she left, +but Biddy would not admit her.</p> + +<p>'It will drive my mistress crazy to see anyone,' she said. +'She has quieted down a bit, and the doctor has given me some +stuff to make her sleep; and his orders were that I was to keep +her as still as possible.' And after this Audrey dared not +persist.</p> + +<p>But it grieved her to leave poor Mollie in that desolate +house, the girl seemed so utterly alone; but Michael said he +had spoken to the woman of the house, and that she had +promised to look after her.</p> + +<p>'We ought not to take her with us, dear Audrey,' he said +gently, but firmly; 'it is her duty to stay with her mother.' +And Audrey acquiesced a little reluctantly.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ross cried abundantly as she took Audrey in her arms; +her motherly soul was filled with pity for her girl. But Audrey +had no more tears to shed.</p> + +<p>'Mother,' she said pleadingly, when, after the late evening +meal, Michael had retired and left them alone together—'mother, +I must wear mourning for Cyril. I hope father will +not mind.'</p> + +<p>'You shall do as you like, my love,' returned her mother +sadly. 'Your father will not object to anything you wish to +do. You know we all loved dear Cyril.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_434" id="Page_434">{434}</a></span></p> + +<p>'Yes, mother; and you were always so good to him. +Towards the last he mentioned you and father: "Give my love +to them both." Michael heard him say it.'</p> + +<p>'Geraldine is as unhappy as possible. She drove with me +to the station. She begged me over and over again to say how +grieved she was for you.'</p> + +<p>'Poor dear Gage is always so kind!' replied Audrey +calmly. 'Mother dear, should you mind my going to bed +now? My head aches so, and I am so tired!'</p> + +<p>Then Mrs. Ross attended her daughter to her room, and +did not leave her until her weary head was on the pillow.</p> + +<p>'I should like to stay,' she said, looking at her child with +yearning eyes; 'but I suppose you would rather be alone.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, mother dear;' and then she drew her mother's face +down to hers and kissed it tenderly. 'Dearest, you are so good +to me, and so is Michael.'</p> + +<p>'Who could help being good to you, Audrey?'</p> + +<p>'Yes; but you must not be too kind to me. One must not +let one's unhappiness spoil other people's lives. I want to be +as brave as he was. Will you draw up the blind, mother +dear? It is such a beautiful moonlight night.' And, as Mrs. +Ross did as she was asked, Audrey raised herself upon her +elbow. 'Oh, how calm and lovely it looks! Even the housetops +are transfigured and glorified. Oh, mother, it is all as it +should be! Cyril said so; and he is safe in his Father's house—in +his Father's and mine!' she half whispered to herself, as +she sank back on the pillow again.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_435" id="Page_435">{435}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVII" id="CHAPTER_XLVII"></a>CHAPTER XLVII</h2> + +<h3>A STRANGE EXPIATION</h3> + +<table summary="quotation"> +<tr><td> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse">'When some beloved voice that was to you</div> +<div class="verse">Both sound and sweetness faileth suddenly,</div> +<div class="verse">And silence against which you dare not cry</div> +<div class="verse">Aches round you like a strong disease and new,</div> +<div class="verse">What hope? what help?...</div> +<div class="vind6">...Nay, none of these.</div> +<div class="verse">Speak, Thou availing Christ! and fill this pause.'</div> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<div class="sign"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Browning.</span></div> +</div> +</td></tr> +</table> + + +<p>Mrs. Ross soon discovered that Audrey wished to remain in +town until the funeral was over, and she at once wrote off to +her husband for the required permission.</p> + +<p>Dr. Ross made no objection; he meant to be present himself +at the funeral, and as he had some important business that +would detain him another day or so in London, he suggested +that they should accompany him back to Woodcote.</p> + +<p>Audrey seemed satisfied when she had read her father's +letter. He had sent her a message that touched her greatly.</p> + +<p>'I hope our child will not grieve over-much,' he wrote. 'Tell +her that her father sympathises with her most fully. By and +by she will read the meaning of this painful lesson. As for +poor Cyril, one can only long to change places with him. His +was a short and fiery trial, but at least he was spared the +burden and heat of the day. When one thinks of his blameless +youth, and the manly endurance with which he met and faced +his trouble, one can only be thankful that he has been taken +out of a life that would have been only one long struggle and +disappointment, and has entered so early into his rest.'</p> + +<p>'Father is right,' murmured Audrey, as she read this. +'Every morning I wake I thank God that he has ceased to +suffer.'</p> + +<p>Audrey went every day to see Mollie, and to spend a few<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_436" id="Page_436">{436}</a></span> +minutes by Cyril's coffin. She went with Michael to Highgate +to choose his last resting-place, and no other hands but hers +arranged the flowers that decked the chamber of death. Mrs. +Blake remained in her own room, and refused to see anyone. +Biddy's account of her mistress was very unsatisfactory.</p> + +<p>'She does not sleep unless I give her the doctor's soothing +stuff,' she confessed one day, when Audrey questioned her very +closely, 'and sometimes I cannot coax her to take it. "I don't +want to sleep, Biddy," that is all her cry. "If I sleep I must +wake, and the waking is too terrible." Unless Blessed Mary +and the saints help my mistress,' continued Biddy, wiping the +tears from her withered cheeks, 'I think she will go out of her +mind. She spends half the night in that room. Early this +morning I missed her, and found her lying in a dead faint beside +the coffin. She does not eat, and I never see her shed a tear. +She sits rocking herself and moaning as though she were in pain, +and then she starts up and walks the room till it turns one +giddy to see her. I dare not leave her a moment. If she +would only see a doctor! but, poor soul, she will do nothing +now to please her old Biddy.'</p> + +<p>'I must see her,' exclaimed Audrey, horrified at this description +of wild, unchastened grief. 'Biddy, will you take this +note to her?' and Biddy, nothing loath, carried off the slip of +paper.</p> + +<p>Audrey had only pencilled a few words:</p> + +<p>'My poor friend, let me come to you; ours is the same +sorrow. For Cyril's sake, do not refuse me.'</p> + +<p>But Biddy came back the next moment shaking her head +very sorrowfully.</p> + +<p>'I can do nought with her,' she said hastily. 'She sends her +love, Miss Ross, but she will see no one—no one. I have done +the best I can for you, but I dare not anger her,' finished the +old woman, moving sadly away. 'Why, she has not seen +Master Kester, though he came to her door last night! We +must leave her alone until she comes round to her right mind.'</p> + +<p>'Do you think she will be at the funeral?' Michael asked +more than once; but no one was able to answer this question.</p> + +<p>But when the day came she was there, closely veiled, so that +no one could see her face, and as she walked to the grave, +between Kester and Mollie, her step seemed as firm as ever. +Michael had written to Matthew O'Brien the particulars of his +son's death, and had told him that a place would be reserved +for him among the mourners; but to this there was no reply.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_437" id="Page_437">{437}</a></span></p> + +<p>Just as the service began in the chapel, however, a tall man +with a gray moustache slipped into the seat behind Kester. +When the sad procession filed out into the cemetery, Audrey and +Michael drew back to let him pass, but he made signs for them +to precede him. But at the end, as they all crowded round the +open grave to take their last look at the flower-decked coffin, +Mat O'Brien stood for a moment by his wife's side. Audrey +said afterwards that she was sure Mrs. Blake saw him; she +started slightly, but took no further notice. The tears were +streaming down Mat's face, and Mollie, with girlish sympathy, +had slipped her hand through his arm; but the mother stood +in stony impassiveness beside them, until Kester whispered +something to her and led her away. The rest of the mourners +had dispersed, but Audrey stood there still, looking thoughtfully +down into the grave. Dr. Ross and his wife had followed the +others, but Michael had kept his place beside Audrey.</p> + +<p>'I think they are waiting for us, dear,' he said at last, as +though to rouse her.</p> + +<p>Then she turned her face to him.</p> + +<p>'I like being here,' she replied simply; 'and yet it is not +pain to leave him lying there. Michael, I feel like Christian. +Do you remember how his burden rolled off into an open grave? +Somehow, mine has rolled off, too.'</p> + +<p>'You mean that you are happy about him.'</p> + +<p>'Yes. It is so sweet to think that he will never suffer any +more. Oh, Michael, it has been such a burden! I never seemed +to have a moment's peace or comfort. Every night I used to +think, "How has he passed to-day? Has it been very bad +with him?" And sometimes the thought of all he was bearing +seemed to weigh me to the earth.'</p> + +<p>'And you never spoke of this to anyone—you bore all this +by yourself?'</p> + +<p>'It was no use to speak. No one could help me. It was +his pain, not mine. Now it will be different. He is safe and +happy, and as for me, I must try to live now for other people.'</p> + +<p>And then, with a smile that touched him to the heart, she +stepped back from the grave and told him that she was ready.</p> + +<p>Somehow, Michael felt comforted by those few words. His +intuition and knowledge of Audrey's character gave him hope +that after a time she would recover her old elasticity. 'Until +now,' he said to himself, 'she has so fully identified herself +with him, that she has simply had no life of her own. Her +sympathetic nature has reflected only his thoughts and feelings.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_438" id="Page_438">{438}</a></span> +I doubt whether she has ever questioned herself as to her love +for him; she has taken everything for granted. And now she +has lost him, the thought of his happiness seems to swallow +up all thought of her own grief. Such unselfishness will bring +its own healing.' And in this way Michael comforted himself +about her.</p> + +<p>That evening Audrey received a message that surprised her +greatly. Kester brought it. His mother would see her the +next day; someone had told her that Audrey was going back +to Woodcote, and she had at once expressed a wish that she +should not leave without bidding her good-bye.</p> + +<p>'Tell her that I can speak now, and that I have much to +say to her.' And the strangeness of this message filled Audrey +with perplexity.</p> + +<p>Michael took her to Kensington the next day. He had to +fetch Kester; the boy was going back to Brighton: there was +no good in his lingering in London. His mother took no +pleasure in his society; his overtures to his father had made a +breach between them, and she had treated him with silent +displeasure.</p> + +<p>But he told Michael, as they drove to the station, that she +had been kinder in her manner to him that morning than she +had been for months.</p> + +<p>'She kissed me more than once, and held my hand as though +she did not like bidding me good bye. She looks awfully ill,' +continued the boy, with a choke in his voice; 'and when I +asked her to be good to Mollie, she said quite gently that she +had been a bad mother to us both; that she had not considered +us enough, and that God was punishing her for it. I begged +her not to say it, but she repeated it again. "You and Mollie +will be better without me," she went on. Oh, Captain Burnett! +do you think she will die? I never saw anyone look quite so +bad,' persisted Kester sadly.</p> + +<p>Biddy took Audrey up at once to her mistress's room.</p> + +<p>'You will find her better,' she said shortly; 'the dumb +spirit is cast out of her. That is the blessed saints' doing. I +knew my mistress would come to her senses—Heaven be praised +for it!'</p> + +<p>The room was somewhat dark, and it was not until Audrey +was quite close to Mrs. Blake that she noticed the change in +her that had so shocked Kester.</p> + +<p>The blackness of the plain stuff gown, unrelieved by any +whiteness, may have made the contrast of her pale face more<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_439" id="Page_439">{439}</a></span> +striking; but Audrey noticed that her dark hair was now +streaked with gray. She had drawn it back from her face and +coiled it tightly behind, as though her own appearance had ceased +to interest her, and the sunken eyes and a certain sharp look +about the cheekbones made her seem at least ten years older.</p> + +<p>With a pity amounting to tenderness, Audrey would have +put her arms round her; but Mrs. Blake drew back, and only +suffered her to kiss her cheek.</p> + +<p>'Dear Mrs. Blake——'</p> + +<p>But she interrupted her.</p> + +<p>'Do not call me that again,' she said hastily. 'There has +been enough of deception and lies; my name is Olive O'Brien. +As long as I remain in the world I wish to be called by that +name.'</p> + +<p>Then Audrey gazed at her in speechless consternation. +What could this strange speech portend?</p> + +<p>'Will you sit down?' she continued, at the same time +seating herself in a high-backed chair that stood beside her bed.</p> + +<p>A crucifix lay on a little table beside her, with a framed +photograph of Cyril that she always carried about with her. +From time to time she looked at them as she spoke.</p> + +<p>'Biddy told me that you were going back to Rutherford, +and I could not let you go without bidding you good-bye.'</p> + +<p>'It would have made me very unhappy if you had not +allowed me to see you.'</p> + +<p>'I cannot believe that; but of course you mean it for the +truth: that is why my boy loved you, because you are so +absolutely true.' Her voice sank into a whisper, and a +gloomy light came into her eyes. 'That is why his mother +disappointed him, why he lost all trust in her, because falsehood +was easier to her than truth.'</p> + +<p>'But not now, dear Mrs. Blake; nay, I must call you by +the old name. And what does it matter between us two if +you have sinned? If your wrong-doing seems a heavy burden, +you can at least repent.'</p> + +<p>'I have repented,' she said, in a voice so strange and +thrilling that Audrey felt inwardly troubled. 'In the hours +of darkness by my boy's coffin I have humbled myself before +my Maker, I have craved to expiate my sin. Audrey, listen +to me,' she continued; 'I have sent for you because you loved +my Cyril, because for a few months you made him happy. +He was my idol, and that is why he has been taken from me—because +I forgot God and truth, and sinned for his sake.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_440" id="Page_440">{440}</a></span></p> + +<p>'Yes; but you are sorry now.'</p> + +<p>'What does such sorrow avail, except for my own purging? +In a little while the world—this cruel, hard, outer world—will +know me no more. I am going back to Ireland with +Mollie and Biddy, and when I have made my peace with the +Church I shall enter a convent.'</p> + +<p>'Good heavens! what can you mean?'</p> + +<p>'I have always been at heart a Catholic,' she returned in +a mechanical tone; 'but while my boy lived I was content +that his Church should be mine. All my life I have had a +leaning to the older faith; now in my desolation I mean to +shelter in the bosom of our Holy Mother the Church. She +receives all penitents; she will not refuse me.'</p> + +<p>'But your children—Mollie: would you forsake Mollie?' +pleaded Audrey, with tears in her eyes. 'Would you neglect +your sacred responsibilities for duties no one would demand of +a mother?'</p> + +<p>'Am I fit to discharge my responsibilities?' she returned +in a cold, hard voice. 'Has anyone but Cyril ever kept me +straight? Do you think Mollie and I could go on living the +same old life without him? Audrey, you do not know what +you say; such an existence would rob me of my reason.'</p> + +<p>'But what will become of Mollie?' asked Audrey, concealing +her alarm at this wild speech. 'You must not only +think of yourself.'</p> + +<p>'Mollie will go with me,' she returned. 'I shall not +forsake her. The convent that I propose to enter has a home +attached to it, where they educate girls belonging to the upper +classes. Mollie will have plenty of companions. The nuns +are kind women, and they will not coerce her in any way, and +there will be sufficient for her maintenance.'</p> + +<p>'But when she grows up—when her education is finished: +what will become of her then?'</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Blake did not seem clear on this point. The +convent had its boarders, she remarked; with the superior's +permission, Mollie might still remain there, and lead a tolerably +happy life.</p> + +<p>'There will be other young ladies; she will not be dull,' +she went on. 'The rule is a strict one—that is why I chose +it—but I should be allowed to see her sometimes; perhaps +she too may turn Catholic, and then all will be well.'</p> + +<p>But Audrey's honest nature revolted against this merciless +arrangement. She saw clearly that Mrs. Blake's weak,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_441" id="Page_441">{441}</a></span> +excitable nature had been under some strong influence, though +it was not until later that she heard that during the last few +months she had secretly attended a Roman Catholic chapel +near them. Doubtless Biddy, who was a stanch Romanist, +had connived at this.</p> + +<p>And now she had planned this strange expiation for herself, +and poor Mollie must be sacrificed. What would Cyril have +thought of such an unnatural arrangement? For Cyril's sake, +for Mollie's, Audrey felt she must combat this notion.</p> + +<p>'Mrs. Blake,' she said very earnestly, 'it is not for me to +question your actions with regard to yourself. If you are at +heart a Roman Catholic—if all these years you have been an +unprofessed member of that Church—it may be as well for +you to acknowledge it openly. I do not believe myself that a +convent life is free from its trials and temptations. Human +nature is the same everywhere, and even sanctified human +nature is liable to error. Wiser people than myself would tell +you that peace of mind would be more surely attained by +remaining in the path of duty. Dear Mrs. Blake, forgive me +if I pain you, but would'—she hesitated a moment—'would +not Cyril have disapproved of his mother taking such a step?'</p> + +<p>'I think not,' was the response. 'My boy's eyes are +purified now; he would judge differently. I shall devote the +remainder of my life to praying for the repose of his soul, and +in repentance for my miserable past; and it may be'—here +she lifted her clasped hands, and a faint light came into her +eyes—'that Heaven may release me from my misery before +many years are over, and my purified soul may be allowed to +find rest.'</p> + +<p>'God grant you may find it, poor, misguided woman!' +was Audrey's secret prayer; but she merely said aloud:</p> + +<p>'We must live out our life as long as the Divine will +ordains; but, Mrs. Blake, I must speak of Mollie. If you +will sacrifice yourself, you have no right to sacrifice her. For +Cyril's sake, let me have her!'</p> + +<p>'You, Audrey!'</p> + +<p>'Yes, I. Have we not been like sisters all these months? +I think Cyril would love to know she was with me; he was +so fond of Mollie. He liked to see us together. It will make +me happier to have her; when Michael is away I have no +companion.'</p> + +<p>'Do you really mean it?' asked Mrs. Blake, in an astonished +voice. 'You are very good, Audrey, but you are not your<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_442" id="Page_442">{442}</a></span> +own mistress. Dr. Ross would never consent to such an +arrangement.'</p> + +<p>'I have my own money. No one would be put to any +expense for Mollie, unless you wished to provide for her +yourself.'</p> + +<p>'I should certainly wish that.'</p> + +<p>'Then in that case there will be no difficulty at all. I +know my father too well to fear a refusal from him. I will +go back to South Audley Street and speak to him and my +mother, and to-morrow you shall know their answer; but you +must promise me one thing before I go—that, if they consent, +you will let me have Mollie.'</p> + +<p>'She will be happier with you than in the convent,' replied +Mrs. Blake, in a musing tone. 'After all, it would have been +a dull existence for her, poor child!' There was a touch of +motherliness in her voice as she spoke. 'Yes, you shall have +her. I think my boy would have wished it.'</p> + +<p>And Audrey's grateful kiss sealed the compact.</p> + +<p>'But there is something else I must say,' continued Mrs. +Blake, when they had talked a little more about Mollie—at +least, Audrey had talked. 'I want you to give Mat a +message from me.'</p> + +<p>'Mr. O'Brien!'</p> + +<p>'Yes, my husband. Have I not told you that I have +humbled myself to the dust? Before I leave the world I +would make my peace even with him. Will you give him +my message?'</p> + +<p>'Assuredly I will.'</p> + +<p>'Tell him that I have repented at last, and that I would +fain have his forgiveness—that I know now that I had no +right to rob him of his children. If the time came over +again—but no; how can I tell whether things would have +been different? Mat would always have been Mat, and I +could not alter my own nature. Oh, if I had only been +good like you, Audrey!' she sighed bitterly.</p> + +<p>'You must not talk any more,' observed Audrey, alarmed +by the look of utter exhaustion on the wan face. 'Shall I +leave you now to rest a little?'</p> + +<p>'Rest?' Audrey never forgot the tone in which the unhappy +woman uttered the word. 'How can one rest on such +a pillow of thorns? No; the time is too short. I must be +up and about my work. Will you bid me good-bye, now? +After to-day we shall not meet again. You shall write to me<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_443" id="Page_443">{443}</a></span> +about Mollie; but this interview has exhausted me, and I +must husband my strength.'</p> + +<p>'If I could only comfort you!'</p> + +<p>The sad yearning in Audrey's voice seemed to touch Mrs. +Blake, and as the girl clung to her she pressed her to her +bosom.</p> + +<p>'God bless you for all your goodness to him and to me! +Every day I live I shall pray for you.' Her voice broke; with +a sudden impulse she kissed her again and again, then pushed +her gently from her. 'Go, go!' she said faintly, 'and send +Biddy to me.' And Audrey dared not linger.</p> + +<p>But she looked quite white and shaken when she rejoined +Michael; she could scarcely speak to Mollie, and she seemed +relieved when her cousin told her that his hansom was at the +door. The soft autumnal breeze seemed to refresh her, and +after a little while she was able to tell Michael all that had +passed between her and Mrs. Blake. Michael took it very +coolly; he seemed to have fully expected something of the kind.</p> + +<p>'Poor soul! she will always be true to herself,' he observed. +'It is singular how these unbalanced, pleasure-loving natures +lean towards asceticism—how rapidly they pass from one +extreme to another. Even her repentance is not free from +selfishness. She would free herself from her maternal +responsibilities, as she freed herself from her marriage vows, +under the mistaken notion of expiating a sinful past; and she +will labour under the delusion that such an ill-conceived +sacrifice will be pleasing to the Almighty.'</p> + +<p>'Yes; it is a great mistake,' she returned.</p> + +<p>'A very great mistake. The longer I live, Audrey, +the more I marvel at the way people deceive themselves. The +name of religion cloaks hidden selfishness to an extent you +could hardly credit; the majority are too much engrossed in +trying to save their own souls to care what becomes of other +people. One would think it was "Save yourself, and the +devil take the hindmost!" when one sees so-called Christians +scurrying along the narrow way, as they call it, without a +thought to the brother or sister who has fallen beside them.'</p> + +<p>'It is very grievous,' returned Audrey sadly. 'What would +my poor Cyril have said to such an expiation? Michael, this +interview with his mother has tried me more than anything. I +think the hardest thing in life is when we see those we love +turn down a wrong path, and when no entreaty will induce +them to retrace their steps.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_444" id="Page_444">{444}</a></span></p> + +<p>'It is a sight one sees every day,' was Michael's reply; and +then, as he saw how jaded and weary she was, he began to tell +her about Kester, and after that they talked of Mollie. And +when Audrey found that Michael approved of her plan, and was +as anxious as she was herself that Mollie should accompany +them to Woodcote, she began to discuss the subject with her +old animation, and by the time the drive was over the harassed +look had passed away from her face.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_445" id="Page_445">{445}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVIII" id="CHAPTER_XLVIII"></a>CHAPTER XLVIII</h2> + +<h3>ON MICHAEL'S BENCH</h3> + +<table summary="quotation"> +<tr><td> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse">'What can I give thee back, O liberal</div> +<div class="verse">And princely giver, who has brought the gold</div> +<div class="verse">And purple of thine heart, unstained, untold,</div> +<div class="verse">And laid them out the outside of the wall,</div> +<div class="verse">For such as I to take or leave withal,</div> +<div class="verse">In unexpected largesse?'</div> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<div class="sign"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Browning.</span></div> +</div> +</td></tr> +</table> + + +<p>Dr. Ross and his wife listened very kindly to their daughter's +project. Indeed, if Audrey had expressed a wish to establish a +small colony of street Arabs at the end of the Woodcote +garden, Mrs. Ross would have offered no objection to the +scheme. Audrey could have ruled her mother as well as ever +Geraldine had ruled her; but she was too generous to exert her +influence. Her mother could have refused her nothing; from +morning to night her one thought was how she might console +her child.</p> + +<p>'Mollie will be such a companion for Audrey, John!' she +suggested, when for one moment her husband had hesitated.</p> + +<p>'I was thinking about Matthew O'Brien,' he replied. +'Brail is rather too near, and people will talk; it will leak out +in time that O'Brien is Mollie's father.'</p> + +<p>'Will that matter?' interposed Michael; 'talk will not hurt +anyone. I think I can answer for O'Brien: he is the last man +to lay claim to his own child. His brother tells me that he is +perfectly content if he sees her from time to time. Kester +often writes to him, and he is never tired of reading his letters. +Both Mollie and Kester have grown quite fond of him.'</p> + +<p>'I think it should be kept quiet, for Mollie's sake,' returned +Dr. Ross. 'In my judgment, Matthew O'Brien is a very unfit +person to take care of a girl approaching womanhood. His +brother is old, and he may outlive him. I do not wish to be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_446" id="Page_446">{446}</a></span> +hard on him, but he seems to me a very irresponsible sort of +person. When Mollie is of age she will, of course, judge for +herself; but until then her friends will be wise not to give her +up to her father's guardianship.'</p> + +<p>'He will never claim her,' replied Michael dryly. 'I will +quote your own words: an irresponsible person is only too glad +to evade responsibility. Mollie may live at Woodcote quite +safely, and her visits to Brail will be taken as a matter of +course. Of all people I know, the O'Briens are the least likely +to chatter about their private concerns. Matthew O'Brien will +be too thankful that his daughter should enjoy such privileges +to wish to rob her of them.'</p> + +<p>'Father, it will make me so happy to have her!' whispered +Audrey in her father's ear.</p> + +<p>Then the Doctor's eyes glistened with tenderness.</p> + +<p>'It shall be as you wish, my dear,' he said very gently: +'Mollie shall come. Your mother is very fond of her, and so +am I. You will have another daughter, Emmie,' he continued, +looking at his wife with a kind smile. And so the matter was +settled.</p> + +<p>Poor Mollie was horrified when she heard what she had +escaped. The idea of the convent was terrible to her.</p> + +<p>'Oh, dear Miss Ross,' she exclaimed, 'how can mamma do +anything so dreadful? She will be miserable—quite miserable. +Of course she would not like living with only Biddy and me—she +would have fretted herself ill. But to be a nun and say +prayers all day long! Poor, poor mamma!' And Mollie's +eyes grew round with misery.</p> + +<p>'Dear Mollie, your mother thinks she knows best, and no +one can control her. Perhaps, if she does not like it—if the life +be too hard—she will come out at the end of her novitiate.'</p> + +<p>And this view of the case seemed to comfort Mollie a +little.</p> + +<p>'And I am really to live at Woodcote—at that dear, +beautiful place?' she continued. 'Oh, Miss Ross, it seems too +good to be true!'</p> + +<p>'Yes; you are to be my little sister,' returned Audrey +tranquilly. 'But, Mollie, I will not be called Miss Ross any +longer. If you live with me, you must call me Audrey.'</p> + +<p>And Mollie promised that she would.</p> + +<p>Mollie said very little about her parting interview with her +mother; but she cried bitterly for hours afterwards. 'Poor, +poor mamma! Oh, what would Cyril say!' she exclaimed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_447" id="Page_447">{447}</a></span> +over and over again. And it was a long time before anyone +could comfort her.</p> + +<p>Michael went down with them to Woodcote, and remained +with them for the next month or two. Cyril's sudden death +had occurred the first week in October, and the trees in the +Woodcote gardens were glorious in their autumnal livery of red +and golden-brown, while every day careful hands swept up the +fallen leaves from the shrubberies and paths. Michael resumed +his old habits. When Audrey wanted him he was always +ready to walk or drive with her. No one knew the effort it +cost him to appear as usual, when every day his passion gained +a stronger mastery over him. Dearly as he had loved her in +her youthful brightness, he had never loved her as he did now, +when he saw her in uncomplaining sadness fulfilling her daily +duties and devoting herself to Mollie. Geraldine used to look +at her with tears in her eyes. 'She is sweeter than ever. I +never knew anyone so good,' she said to her husband; and Mr. +Harcourt had assented to this very cordially. As for Mrs. +Ross, before many weeks were over she had drawn down on her +maternal head more than one reproof from her daughter.</p> + +<p>'Mother,' Audrey said to her one day, 'have you forgotten +what I once told you—that you are not to be so kind to me? +You are spoiling me dreadfully. You give me my way in +everything; and when I say anything that I ought not to say, +you do not contradict me. I am growing demoralised, and +it is all your and Michael's fault if I get more selfish every +day.'</p> + +<p>'You selfish, my darling?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, selfish and stupid, and as idle as possible; and yet you +never scold me or ask me to do anything for you.'</p> + +<p>'You are always doing something, Audrey; you are busy +from morning till night. Michael says you work far too hard.'</p> + +<p>'But I must work; it is my duty to work,' she returned, a +little restlessly; 'and, mother, you must help, and not spoil +me. When I see you and Gage looking at me with tears in +your eyes, it troubles me to see them. I want you to be happy. +I want everything to go on as usual, and I mean to be happy, +too.'</p> + +<p>And then she went away and gave Mollie her music-lesson, +and when it was over she went in search of Michael.</p> + +<p>Michael knew he was necessary to her—that in certain restless +moods he was able to soothe her; so he stayed manfully at +his post until after Christmas.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_448" id="Page_448">{448}</a></span></p> + +<p>But with the new year he resumed his Bohemian life, +spending two or three weeks at South Audley Street, and then +running down to Woodcote for a few days. He felt it was +wiser to do so, and he could leave her more comfortably now. +She was better in every way: she drooped less visibly, her +smile became more frequent, and the constant society of Mollie +and intercourse with her fresh girlish mind were evidently +beneficial.</p> + +<p>She would do now without him, he told himself as he went +back to his lodgings, and he need no longer put such a force on +himself. 'Until I can speak, until the time has come for me +to open my heart to her, it is better that we should be apart.'</p> + +<p>That Audrey held a different opinion was evident, and she +could not always conceal her disappointment when Michael's +brief visits became briefer and more infrequent.</p> + +<p>'It is all that troublesome money,' she said once, when one +spring morning he stood waiting for the dog-cart to take him +to the station. 'Of course, Woodcote does not content you +now. You want a house of your own, and to be your own +master. Well, it is perfectly natural,' she added quickly.</p> + +<p>'I have always been my own master,' he returned quietly; +'and as for the house you are so fond of talking about, it seems +still in the clouds as far as I am concerned. Neither have I +once visited Wardour Street.'</p> + +<p>'No; you have been very slow about it,' she replied, smiling; +'you were never in a hurry to possess your good things, Michael. +I have often envied you your patience.'</p> + +<p>And then the mare trotted round the corner.</p> + +<p>'There is an old saying, that "all comes round to him who +waits." Do you think that is true, Audrey?'</p> + +<p>He did not wait for her answer, as he climbed up into the +driving-seat and took the reins; then he lifted his hat to her +with rather a sad smile.</p> + +<p>'Yes, I have waited a long time, and it will not come yet.' +And then he touched the mare a little smartly, and the next +moment she was trotting briskly towards the gate.</p> + +<p>'Why had he looked so sad?' she wondered, as she went +back to Mollie. He had not seemed like himself all the week, +and now he had gone. 'If he only knew how much I want +him, I think he would not go away so often,' she said to herself +as she sat down to correct Mollie's French exercise.</p> + +<p>It was in the early days of June that Michael paid one of +these flying visits to Rutherford, and as he drove through the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_449" id="Page_449">{449}</a></span> +green lanes, with the sweet summer breeze just stirring the +leaves, he suddenly remembered that Cyril had lain in his +quiet grave just eight months. He hardly knew why the +thought had occurred to him, for he had been pondering a far +different subject. 'Eight months! I had no idea that it had +been so long,' he said to himself; 'time passes more quickly as +one grows older. If I live to the end of the year I shall be +nine-and-thirty. No wonder I feel a sober middle-aged man!'</p> + +<p>These reflections were hardly exhilarating, and he was glad +when Woodcote was in sight.</p> + +<p>'You need not drive in, Fenton,' he said to the groom; +'take the mare round to the stables, and I will walk up to the +house.'</p> + +<p>The gardens of Woodcote looked lovelier than ever this +afternoon, he thought, as he walked slowly up the terrace: the +tender green of the foliage, the gay tints of lilacs and laburnums +and pink and white horse chestnuts, made a gorgeous background. +Here a guelder rose thrust its soft puffy balls almost in his face, +while the white shimmering leaves of the maple contrasted +superbly with the dark-veined leaves of the copper beech. Dr. +Ross had always prided himself on his rare trees and shrubs, +and, indeed, no other garden in Rutherford could compete with +the grounds of Woodcote; the long lawn that stretched below +the terrace was kept free from daisies, and was as smooth as +velvet.</p> + +<p>Some lads were playing tennis there now, and a young lady +in a gray dress was sitting under a clump of lilacs, watching +them. For a moment Michael hesitated, thinking it was a +stranger; but as she beckoned to him, a sudden gleam came +into his eyes, and he hastily crossed the lawn.</p> + +<p>'I have been waiting for you; you are a little late, Michael,' +she said, as he shook hands with her. 'Mollie has gone out +with mother; I asked her to take my place.'</p> + +<p>But he stood looking at her, and there was a strangely +pleased expression on his face.</p> + +<p>'I did not know you,' he said, in a low voice; 'I thought +it was a strange young lady sitting on the bench. It was this, +I suppose;' and he touched her gown as he spoke.</p> + +<p>Audrey coloured. The remark evidently pained her.</p> + +<p>'I left off my black gown yesterday,' she replied hurriedly. +'I found out that it troubled father, though he was too kind to +tell me so. It was Gage who spoke to me; she said that it +was a pity to wear it so long.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_450" id="Page_450">{450}</a></span></p> + +<p>'I don't see that Gage had any right to speak to you. It +was your affair, not hers.'</p> + +<p>There was a trace of sharpness in Michael's tone, and the +light had faded out of his eyes. After all, there was no cause +for him to rejoice; she had not left off her mourning of her +own accord. What a fool he had been! Of course, she had +only done it to please her father.</p> + +<p>'No; it was kind of her to speak; and, after all, what does +it matter? Father seemed so relieved when I put on this, and +I can remember Cyril without the help of a black gown. It is +better to please other people than to please one's self, and after +the first moment I did not mind. Those boys are so noisy,' +she continued in her ordinary manner, as though she were not +willing to discuss the subject more fully. 'Shall we go to +"Michael's bench"? Booty is making for that direction, as +usual, and the pond is so pretty this afternoon.'</p> + +<p>'As you like,' he returned, a little moodily.</p> + +<p>Strange to say, this little episode of the dress had upset his +equanimity, and he could not at once regain his old calmness. +Had ever any gown become her so well? he wondered, with the +exaggeration natural to a lover. She had a spray of laburnum +in her hand, and the sunshine seemed to thread her brown hair +with gold. It seemed to him as though there was a softer look +in her gray eyes, as though his return were very welcome to her.</p> + +<p>'Michael,' she said suddenly, as they stood watching Eiderdown +and Snowflake as they came sailing proudly up the pond +in all the majesty of unruffled feathers, and Booty, as usual, +pattered to the water's edge to bark at them until he was hoarse, +'what is this that I hear about your going away? Father tells +me that you have made all sorts of plans for yourself.'</p> + +<p>'My money is burning a hole in my purse, you see,' he +returned, picking up a dry twig from the ground, a proceeding +that seemed to drive Booty frantic with excitement. 'I am +beginning to realise my responsibility as a man of property; +and as, of course, my first duty is to look after number one——'</p> + +<p>But she would not allow him to finish.</p> + +<p>'Michael, will you come and sit down? How can we talk +properly while you are picking up sticks for Booty?'</p> + +<p>Then he followed her to the bench, but, instead of seating +himself, he leaned lazily against a baby-willow.</p> + +<p>'I am going abroad with Dick Abercrombie,' he said, as +though he were mentioning an everyday occurrence. 'You +know how often I have planned a tour in Switzerland and Italy,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_451" id="Page_451">{451}</a></span> +but I have never been able to carry it out; and now I can +combine duty and pleasure.'</p> + +<p>'Where does the duty lie, Michael?'</p> + +<p>But she did not smile as she put the question, and it struck +him that she looked a little dull.</p> + +<p>'Why, with Dick, of course,' he returned quickly. 'Don't +you know, the poor fellow is terribly out of health; his father +is very anxious about him. He has been over-working, and I +fancy there is some sort of love-affair as well; at least, the +Doctor hinted as much. Anyhow, he is to strike work for six +months; and as he wanted a travelling companion, I offered +my humble services.'</p> + +<p>'But you will not be away all that time?' she asked, with +visible anxiety.</p> + +<p>'Six months is not so very long, is it?' he returned coolly; +'and I do not see how we shall work out our plans even in that +time. We are to do Switzerland thoroughly and to spend at +least a month in the Engadine; then there are the Swiss Tyrol +and the Italian lakes, and afterwards Rome, Florence, Venice, +and Naples. If Dick tires of it and throws it up, I can still +keep on alone. I want to do the thing properly for once in my +life, and I have even thought of Greece and the Holy Land the +following spring.'</p> + +<p>But again she interrupted him, and this time he saw the +pained look in her eyes.</p> + +<p>'You will leave us for all that time—you will let him come +back alone, and go on by yourself? Oh, Michael! what shall +I do without you? You are more necessary to me than ever +now.'</p> + +<p>She so seldom thought of herself that this speech took him +by surprise. There was a tone of reproach in her voice, as +though she thought him unkind for leaving her. Michael was +not his ordinary calm self that afternoon. For months he had +dreaded to find himself alone with her; but now the very +sweetness of that loving reproach seemed too much for him.</p> + +<p>'A man is not always master of himself,' Cyril had once +said; and at that moment Michael felt that it was no longer +possible for him to be silent. He could bear it no more.</p> + +<p>'I shall stay away,' he said in a strangely-suppressed voice, +'because it is only right for me to do so—because it is my +duty to leave you.'</p> + +<p>'Your duty to leave me,' she faltered. 'Oh, Michael, why?'</p> + +<p>'Do you wish me to tell you?' he said, looking at her fully<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_452" id="Page_452">{452}</a></span> +as he stood opposite to her; and there was a gleam in the keen +blue eyes that made her suddenly avert her face. 'Is it possible +that all these years you have not known what you have been to +me—that you have not guessed my love?'</p> + +<p>Then for the first time in her life she shrank from him.</p> + +<p>'What do you mean?' she said helplessly. 'We have always +loved each other; you have been like my own brother, Michael.'</p> + +<p>'Then I can be your brother no longer,' he returned passionately; +'from a child you have been far dearer to me. I never +remember the time since I was a subaltern that I did not love +you, and my love has grown every year.'</p> + +<p>'Do you mean that you cared for me as Cyril cared?'</p> + +<p>But even as she asked the question he saw that her face was +suffused with a burning blush.</p> + +<p>'I do mean it! From a child you have been the one woman +in the world to me—the only one I wished to make my wife.'</p> + +<p>Then she covered her face with her hands, and he could see +that she was trembling from head to foot.</p> + +<p>'It is too soon,' he heard her say; 'it is terribly soon;' +and he knew the shock of this discovery was very great.</p> + +<p>'It is not too soon,' he said, sitting down beside her and +trying to draw away her hands. 'Audrey, my dearest, I cannot +bear this. You must not shrink from me so. Do not misunderstand +me; I am asking you for nothing. Surely you are +not afraid of me—of Michael?'</p> + +<p>'I think I am afraid of you,' she whispered. 'Oh, Michael, +if this be true! But I cannot—cannot believe it! Why have +you never told me this before? Why have you let me——'</p> + +<p>And then she stopped, as though a sob impeded her utterance.</p> + +<p>'I was never in a position to tell you so,' he returned, with +his old gentleness. 'For years I doubted whether I should +ever be well enough to marry. Do you think I would have +condemned my wife, even if I could have won her, to a life of +nursing? I was far too proud to demand such a sacrifice of +any woman. And then I was a poor man, Audrey.'</p> + +<p>'What did that matter?' she replied, with a touch of scorn +in her voice; 'Cyril was poor too.'</p> + +<p>'You must not think I blame him, if I say we were very +different men. I was prouder than he, and I knew your +generous nature too well to take advantage of it. When the +money came it was too late: you were engaged to him. I had +only to hide my pain, so that you should not be made unhappy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_453" id="Page_453">{453}</a></span> +by it. I thought I was a bad actor; but you never guessed +my secret—you would not have guessed it now.'</p> + +<p>'How could I?' she returned simply; 'I was only thinking +of Cyril.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, and you are thinking of him now; he is as much my +rival now he is dead as when he was living. That is why I +am going away, because I can bear it no longer.'</p> + +<p>'Must you go?'</p> + +<p>Audrey's voice sank so that he could hardly hear the faint +words. Perhaps she herself did not know what they implied; +she was too shaken and miserable. That Michael, her own +dear Michael, should have suffered all these years, and that she +had never known it! Cyril was in his grave—he no longer +needed her—what did it matter if the idea of another man +wooing her so soon gave her pain, if she could only comfort +Michael? But happily for them both, Michael guessed at that +secret thought, and as he caught the words the flush mounted +to his brow.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, I must go,' he said firmly; 'it is my best, my only +chance. In my absence you will think of me more kindly. +The old Michael—who was your friend, your faithful, devoted +friend—will unconsciously blend with the new Michael, who +you know is your lover. There,' he continued in a pained +voice, 'as I speak the word you shrink again from me; and +yet I am asking you nothing. Dear, if you were to promise +me this moment that you would be my wife, if you were to +tell me that you would try to love me as I wish to be loved, +I would not marry you! No—though you are dearer to me +than anything in life—I would not marry you!'</p> + +<p>'Do you not wish me to try, then?' she asked, rather bewildered +by this strange wooing.</p> + +<p>Was it because Cyril was young that she had never feared +him as she feared Michael? There was a quiet power about +him that, in spite of his gentleness, seemed to subdue her, and +though he was very pale, there was a fire in his eyes that made +her unwilling to look at him. Yes, it was indeed a new Michael—one +she could hardly understand.</p> + +<p>'Certainly I do not wish it,' he replied quickly. 'Can love +come by trying?' But she could not answer him this. 'Any +such love would not content me,' he went on; 'I must have +all your heart or none. Forgive me if I say one thing, Audrey. +I believe that poor Blake had not all that you have to give. I +have thought this more than once; his love for you was so great<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_454" id="Page_454">{454}</a></span> +that yours could hardly equal it. Nay, dear, I did not mean +to hurt you by saying this,' for she was weeping now. 'You +were goodness itself to him.'</p> + +<p>'I loved him; I am sure I loved him,' she said a little +piteously, for Michael's words seemed to touch a sore spot.</p> + +<p>How often since Cyril's death had she blamed herself for +not loving him more! More than once his excessive tenderness +had wearied her, and she would have been content with less. +She had been in no hurry to shorten her engagement, and the +thought of resigning her maidenly freedom had always been +distasteful to her. Could it be possible that Michael was +right, and that there was something defective in her +love?</p> + +<p>'Yes, you loved him. Blake has often told me that you +were an angel of goodness to him. He missed nothing, you +may be sure of that; but, Audrey, I cannot help my nature. +I should ask more than ever he did.'</p> + +<p>Then her head drooped, and he knew that no answer was +possible.</p> + +<p>'So you know why I am going away.' And now he rose +and again stood before her. 'Because under these circumstances +it would no longer be possible for us to be together—at least, +it would not be possible for me. I shall leave you to question +your own heart. Let it speak truly. Perhaps—I do not say +it will be so, but perhaps you may find that I am more to you +than you think. If that time ever comes, will you send for +me?'</p> + +<p>'Send for you?'</p> + +<p>'Yes; be true to your own noble self, your own honest +nature, and be true to me. You need not say many words. +Just "Michael, come," will be enough to bring me from the +very ends of the earth.'</p> + +<p>'But you will come before that; you will not wait for any +such words?'</p> + +<p>But though he gave no special answer to this, she saw by +his face that he would wait.</p> + +<p>'But you will write, Michael? you will not leave me'—and +then she hastily substituted 'us'—'in complete silence? You +may be away six months—a whole year—it may even be +longer.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, it may be longer,' he returned; and now it was he +who was the calmer of the two. 'It is impossible for either of +us to tell now how long my exile may last; but I will write—not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_455" id="Page_455">{455}</a></span> +often, and perhaps I may not even speak of this that has +passed between us; but I shall write, and you will find no +difficulty in answering my letters.'</p> + +<p>And when he had said this he looked at her very kindly +and then without another word walked to the house.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_456" id="Page_456">{456}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIX" id="CHAPTER_XLIX"></a>CHAPTER XLIX</h2> + +<h3>'LET YOUR HEART PLEAD FOR ME'</h3> + +<table summary="quotation"> +<tr><td> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse">'We were apart; yet day by day</div> +<div class="verse">I bade my heart more constant be.</div> +<div class="verse">I bade it keep the world away,</div> +<div class="verse">And grow a home for only thee;</div> +<div class="verse">Nor fear'd but thy love likewise grew,</div> +<div class="verse">Like mine, each day, more tried, more true.'</div> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<div class="sign"><span class="smcap">Matthew Arnold.</span></div> +</div> +</td></tr> +</table> + + +<p>Audrey never knew how she got through the rest of the day. +During the remainder of Michael's visit she seemed in an uneasy +dream. Never before in her life had she been oppressed by +such painful self-consciousness; all freedom of speech was impossible +to her; she spoke with reluctance, and felt as though +every word were weighed in some inward balance.</p> + +<p>More than once her mother asked her if she were well; but, +happily, Michael was not present to see how the blood rushed +to her face as she framed an evasive answer. She could not +have told her mother whether she were ill or well: she only +knew some moral earthquake had shattered her old illusions, +and that she was looking out at a changed world.</p> + +<p>But she was conscious through it all that Michael's watchfulness +and care shielded her from observation, that he was for +ever throwing himself into the breach when any unusual effort +was required. Once when her sister and Mr. Harcourt were +present, he challenged them to a game of whist, that Audrey +might leave her place at the piano. Very likely he had heard +the slight quaver in her voice that told him the song tried her.</p> + +<p>Audrey longed to thank him as she stole out into the summer +dusk, and wandered down the paths between the tall sentinel +lilies, that gleamed so ghostly white in the darkness. But with +all his thought for her, he was never alone with her for a moment +until the last day came, and he went to the morning-room to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_457" id="Page_457">{457}</a></span> +wish her good-bye. She was tending her ferns, but she took off +her gardening-gloves at once as he came up to her.</p> + +<p>'You are going, Michael; but we shall see you again before +you really start?' she said, with an attempt at cheerfulness. +But he shook his head.</p> + +<p>'I think not. Abercrombie has just written to say that +Dick wants to get away a week earlier. I shall not be down +here again.'</p> + +<p>Something choking seemed to rise in Audrey's throat, and if +her life had depended on it she could not have got out another +word. But Michael saw the troubled look in her eyes; they +seemed to ask him again that question, 'Must you go?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, dear; I must go,' he replied gently. 'It is better for +us both—better for you, and far, far better for me.' And as she +still looked at him without speaking, he drew her towards him +and kissed her cheek. 'God be with you, my dearest!' he said +very tenderly. 'Think of me as kindly as you can, and let +your heart plead for me.'</p> + +<p>And the next moment he was gone.</p> + +<p>Audrey stood rooted to the spot; she felt as though some +nightmare oppression were on her. She heard her father's voice +calling to her. 'Where is Audrey?' he said. 'She must bid +Michael good-bye.' And then someone—Michael, perhaps—answered +him.</p> + +<p>A great longing was on her to see him again; but as she +hesitated the wheels of the dog-cart sounded on the gravel, and +she knew that she was too late. With a sudden impulse she +leant out of the window. Michael was looking back at the +house; he saw her, and raised his hat. She had just time to +wave her hand as Dr. Ross drove rapidly through the gate.</p> + +<p>When her mother came to find her she was still standing +there; she looked very pale, and the pained, wistful look was +still in her eyes.</p> + +<p>'Mother,' she said, 'Cyril has left me, and now Michael has +gone, too; and the world seems a different place to me.'</p> + +<p>'Michael will come back, my darling,' replied Mrs. Ross, +vaguely troubled by the look on the girl's face. 'Your father +says he has long wanted a thorough change, and this trip will +do him so much good.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, he will come back; but when and how? And he will +not come back for a long time;' and then she broke down, and +hid her face in her mother's shoulder. 'If I were only like +you, mother! if my life lay behind me, and had not to be lived<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_458" id="Page_458">{458}</a></span> +out day by day and year by year! for I seem so tired of +everything.'</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ross could make nothing of her girl; but she gave her +just what she required that moment, a little soothing and extra +petting.</p> + +<p>'You have gone through so much, and you have borne it all +so quietly, and now Nature is having her revenge; you will be +better presently, my darling.'</p> + +<p>And she was right: Audrey's strong will and sense of duty +soon overcame the hysterical emotion.</p> + +<p>'I think I am tired,' she acknowledged; and to her mother's +relief she consented to lie still and do nothing. 'I will make +up for this idle day to-morrow,' she said with a faint smile, as +she closed her eyes. 'Now go downstairs, mother dear, and +don't trouble about me any more, unless you want to make me +ashamed of myself for having been such a baby.'</p> + +<p>'She is just worn out with keeping everything to herself, +and trying to spare us pain,' Mrs. Ross said to her husband, as +she recounted this little scene to him. 'I never knew Audrey +hysterical before; I was obliged to give her some sal volatile. +I think she is asleep now.'</p> + +<p>'I don't hold with sal volatile,' returned the Doctor a little +grimly. 'Sleep is a far safer remedy, Emmie. Leave her to +herself; she will be all right in a day or two.'</p> + +<p>But Dr. Ross sighed as he got up and went to his study. +Audrey little knew that her father was in the secret; that in +his pain and perplexity Michael had at last taken his best friend +into his confidence.</p> + +<p>'We must leave things to work round,' had been his parting +words to Michael that morning. 'No one, not even her father, +must coerce her. All these years you have been like a son to +me, Mike; and if my child could bring herself to love you as +you deserve to be loved, no one would be better pleased than +I should be.'</p> + +<p>'And you will tell no one—not even Cousin Emmeline?'</p> + +<p>'Why, I should not dare tell her,' returned the Doctor with +rather a dejected smile, for he hated to keep things from his +wife. 'Geraldine would get hold of it, and then it would come +round to Harcourt. No, I will keep my own counsel, Mike. +And now good-bye, and good luck to you!'</p> + +<p>'It is the Burnett motto,' replied Michael, with a touch of +solemnity in his voice—'"Good luck God send." Take care of +her, Cousin John.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_459" id="Page_459">{459}</a></span></p> + +<p>And then the two men grasped hands and parted.</p> + +<p>'If I had to search the whole world over for a husband for +her, I'd choose Mike,' was Dr. Ross's thought as he drove himself +back again to Woodcote.</p> + +<p>Audrey kept her promise and made up for her one idle day. +'Work was good for everyone,' she said, 'and it was especially +good for her.' So the following morning she resumed lessons +with Mollie. She had complained a few weeks before that her +German was becoming rusty, and by her father's advice she and +Mollie were taking lessons together of Herr Freiligrath. The +master she had selected was a very strict one, and his lessons +entailed a great deal of preparation. No discipline could have +been more wholesome. Audrey forgot her perplexities while she +translated Wallenstein and followed the unhappy fortunes of +Max and Theckla.</p> + +<p>But she did not at once regain her cheerfulness, and the daily +round of duty was not performed without a great deal of effort +and inward prompting; if no task were left unfulfilled, if she +were always ready to give her mother or Geraldine the companionship +they needed, and if her father never missed one of +her usual ministrations, it was because she would listen to no +plea of self-indulgence.</p> + +<p>'You are unhappy, and I fear you must be unhappy and +not at ease for a long time,' she would say to herself in the +intervals of her work; 'but idleness will not help you.' And +to give her her due, she was never busier than during the +summer that followed Michael's leave-taking. She had no idea +that Michael knew all she was doing, and that her father often +wrote to him. Michael had kept his word, and his letters to +Audrey were very few and far between, and there was not a +word in them that her mother or Geraldine could not have read +if she had chosen to show them; but Michael's letters had +always been sacred to her. Still it was impossible to answer +them with her old freedom. The happy, sisterly intercourse +was now a thing of the past. She could no longer pour out to +her friend all her innocent girlish thoughts; a barrier—a +strange, unnatural barrier—had been built up between them, +and Audrey's letters, with all her painstaking effort, gave very +little pleasure to Michael.</p> + +<p>'Poor child! she is still afraid of me,' he thought, as he +folded up the thin paper. And he could not always suppress a +sigh as he missed the old playfulness and open-hearted affection +that used to breathe in every carelessly-worded sentence. But<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_460" id="Page_460">{460}</a></span> +he knew that she could not help herself; that it was impossible +for her now to tell him how she missed him and how heavily +the days passed without him; and how could he know it, if +she thought less of Cyril and more of him every day?</p> + +<p>Michael could not guess at all that inward self-questioning +that seemed for ever making dumb utterance in her breast. +Now and then, when no one needed her, she would wander +down to 'Michael's bench' in the dusk or moonlight, and go +over that strange conversation again.</p> + +<p>'Let your own heart plead for me,' had been his parting +words; and, indeed, it seemed as though some subtle influence +were for ever bringing his words to her memory. Why had he +left her? Could he not have trusted her to do even this for +him? She had loved Cyril, but she had not wished to marry +him; she had wished to marry no man. It was the instinct +of her nature to make others happy, and not to think of herself; +and if Michael had wanted her——But the next moment a +sort of despair seized her.</p> + +<p>He was not like Cyril. What she had to give would not +content him in the least.</p> + +<p>'I must have all your heart or none,' he had said to her; +and his eyes seemed to dominate her as he spoke. 'I should +ask more than he did.' And she had not dared to answer him.</p> + +<p>No; she could not deceive him. She knew that no kindness +on her part would ever wear in his eyes the semblance of +the love he wanted. What could she do for him or for herself?</p> + +<p>'Can love come by trying?' he had asked; and she could +recall vividly the bitterness of his tone as he said this.</p> + +<p>But the speech over which she pondered most, sometimes +for an hour together, was a very different one.</p> + +<p>'I shall leave you,' he had told her, and there had been a +strange light in his eyes as he spoke—'I shall leave you to +question your own heart. Let it speak truly. Perhaps—I do +not say it will be so, but perhaps you may find that I am more +to you than you think. If that time ever comes, will you send +for me?'</p> + +<p>'What did he mean by saying this?' she would ask herself. +'Why did his look seem to reproach me and pierce me to the +heart? How could I know, unless he told me? It is not my +fault that I have been so blind. I cannot send for him—I +cannot! It is too soon, and——'</p> + +<p>But Audrey did not finish her sentence. Even under the +dark trees the hot flush was scorching her face.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_461" id="Page_461">{461}</a></span></p> + +<p>'Oh, I am so tired of it all!' she would say, springing to +her feet with a sudden, quick impatience.</p> + +<p>The old tranquil life—the happy, careless life—was gone +for ever. Cyril—her poor dear Cyril—was in his grave; and +now there was this new lover, with his proud, gentle wooing: +not her old Michael who had so satisfied her, but a new, powerful +Michael, who half drew and half repelled her, and for whom +she had no fitting answer.</p> + +<p>Audrey was glad when August came and she could find some +relief in change of scene. Dr. Ross had taken a large roomy +cottage at Keswick for the summer holidays, and the Harcourts +and Kester were to join them. Audrey was thankful that her +father had not selected Scotland, as his son-in-law had suggested; +and she made up her mind, in her sensible way, that, +as far as lay in her power, she would enjoy herself as much as +possible; and after a time her efforts were not unsuccessful.</p> + +<p>Derwent-water was in unusual beauty that year, and a spell +of warm, sunny weather enabled them to enjoy their boating +expeditions on the lake. Audrey liked to paddle herself and +Mollie to one of the islands, and sit there reading and working, +while Kester and Percival fished and Geraldine roamed by the +lake-side with her bonnie boy, sitting like a young prince in his +little wheeled carriage, beside her. There was a long-tailed, +shaggy pony belonging to the cottage—a sturdy, sure-footed, +good-tempered animal, and Dr. Ross would often drive his wife +through some of the lovely dales. Mrs. Ross never thoroughly +enjoyed herself in a boat—she had a dislike to find herself surrounded +by the deep, clear water; and she much preferred the +chaise and Jemmy.</p> + +<p>'You were always a goose, Emmie, and I suppose that is +why I married you,' Dr. Ross remarked, as he tickled up +Jemmy's broad back with the whip.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, the Doctor loved these expeditions quite as +much as his wife did.</p> + +<p>'What a handsome Darby and Joan they look, Jerry!' Mr. +Harcourt once said, as he walked beside her, with Leonard +proudly seated on his shoulder. 'I doubt if we shall make +such a good-looking couple, my love, in thirty years' time.'</p> + +<p>But Mr. Harcourt was smiling in a sly fashion, as he took +a sidelong glance at his graceful wife. Geraldine was looking +lovelier than ever in the broad-brimmed hat that her husband +had chosen for her.</p> + +<p>A sad event happened soon after their return to Woodcote.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_462" id="Page_462">{462}</a></span> +Matthew O'Brien died on the anniversary of his son's death. +His end had been very sudden; no one had suspected that for +months an insidious disease had been making stealthy progress. +He had seemed much as usual, and had made no complaint, +only Mrs. Baxter had remarked to her father that Uncle Mat +seemed quieter-like and more peaceable. 'He has given up +those wearisome prowls of his, and takes more kindly to the +chimney-corner,' as she said.</p> + +<p>But one evening Mat put his pipe down silently before it +was half smoked, and went off to bed, and the next day he +complained of pain and drowsiness; and Prissy cooked some of +her messes and soothing possets, and made much of him as he +lay on his pillow looking idly out on the October sunshine. +And the next day, as the pain and drowsiness did not diminish, +she very wisely suggested that a doctor should be sent for; +and as Dr. Foster stood beside him, asking him questions rather +gravely, a sudden thought came into Mat's mind, and he looked +into the doctor's eyes a little solemnly.</p> + +<p>'You need not be afraid to tell me, doctor,' he said sadly; +'my life has not been much good to me, and I shall not be +sorry to part with it.' But the doctor's answer was kindly +evasive.</p> + +<p>But two or three nights afterwards, as Thomas O'Brien was +sitting beside the bed for an hour to relieve Prissy, Mat stretched +out his lean arm and grasped his brother's coat-sleeve.</p> + +<p>'It is coming, Tom,' he said; 'I shall soon be with my boy—that +is, if God's mercy will grant me admittance to that +good place. Give my love to Mollie and the little chap, and, +Tom, old fellow, God bless you!'</p> + +<p>He murmured something drowsily, and then again more +clearly:</p> + +<p>'Tell Olive that she was not to blame so much, after all. +I have been too hard on her, poor girl! but she could not help +her nature. Isn't there something about "To whoever little +is forgiven, the same loveth little"? I seem to remember +Susie reading it.'</p> + +<p>And Thomas O'Brien, bending over the gray face, repeated +the words slowly:</p> + +<p>'"Wherefore I say unto you, her sins, which are many, are +forgiven, for she loveth much."'</p> + +<p>But Mat interrupted him:</p> + +<p>'He has forgiven me plenty, lad, and you too, and I love +Him for it.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_463" id="Page_463">{463}</a></span></p> + +<p>And those were Matthew O'Brien's last words.</p> + +<p>Mat O'Brien did not go unwept to his grave, in spite of his +unsatisfactory life. His brother mourned for him long and +sincerely, and in their way Kester and Mollie grieved, too. At +Audrey's wish, Mollie wrote the full particulars of her father's +death to the convent. Sister Monica's answer was, in Audrey's +opinion, singularly suggestive of the ci-devant Mrs. Blake. It +was a strange medley of mysticism and motherly yearnings, but +at the end was a touch of real honest feeling.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>'Tell Audrey that when I pray for my boy I pray for her, +too; and, Mollie, do not think that your mother forgets you, +for perhaps she may do you better service now than ever she +did when we were together. Think of me sometimes, my child. +I am glad that your father spoke of me so kindly. I can pray +for him now, as I never could when he was living. Poor man! +It was an ill world to him, but he is out of it now.</p> + +<p>Your loving and repentant mother,</p> + +<p class="sign">'<span class="smcap">Sister Monica Mary.</span>'</p> +</div> + +<p>Audrey went over to Brail constantly during the autumn +and winter months that followed Mat's death. Sometimes +Mollie accompanied her, but oftener she was alone. Nothing +cheered Thomas O'Brien more than the society of his favourite. +He loved to talk to her of the dear ones who had passed +within the veil, and to Audrey herself the visits were very +soothing.</p> + +<p>She liked those solitary walks under the gray November +skies, or when the December sun hung redly behind the +distant hedgerows. How often she had walked there when +Cyril had met her half-way, or she had come upon him +lingering in the lanes, with Zack bounding beside him. It +was in the Brail lanes that he first told her of his love, when +she had sent him sorrowfully away from her; but somehow, +as she walked there now, between hedgerows white with hoar +frost, she thought less of him than of Michael; but as yet no +message had been sent to recall the wanderer home.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_464" id="Page_464">{464}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_L" id="CHAPTER_L"></a>CHAPTER L</h2> + +<h3>BOOTY'S MASTER</h3> + +<table summary="quotation"> +<tr><td> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse">'And she to him will reach her hand,</div> +<div class="verse">And gazing in his eyes will stand,</div> +<div class="verse">And know her friend and weep for glee,</div> +<div class="verse">And cry, "Long, long, I've looked for thee."'</div> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<div class="sign"><span class="smcap">Matthew Arnold.</span></div> +</div> +</td></tr> +</table> + + +<p>Kester had spent his Christmas holidays at Woodcote; +Audrey loved to have him with her. Somehow he seemed to +belong to Michael, and the boy warmly returned her affection.</p> + +<p>'Do you know that Mr. Abercrombie is coming home in +March?' he said to her the day before he went back to +Brighton; 'he is quite well now, and Captain Burnett says +he is in a fever to get back to England. Do you think +Captain Burnett will come, too?' and Kester looked anxiously +in her face.</p> + +<p>Audrey could not satisfy Kester on this point; nevertheless, +she felt a secret hope stirring in her heart that Michael would +not stay away much longer. After all, was it likely that he +would wait for the message when he must know how +impossible it would be for her to send it? He had been away +seven months, and by this time he must be growing homesick.</p> + +<p>Almost the same thought occurred to Michael as, early in +March, he sat in the loggia of an old Florentine palace, where +he and his friend had a suite of rooms.</p> + +<p>How long had he been away, he wondered, as he looked out +on the sunset—seven, nay, eight months; and as yet there +had been no recall. Had he really expected it? Would it +not be as well to go back and plead his own cause, and see +what these months of absence had done for him, or should he +wait a little longer?</p> + +<p>Michael's self-imposed exile had not been unhappy. His<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_465" id="Page_465">{465}</a></span> +companion was congenial to him; the varied scenes through +which he had passed, the historic interest of the cities, had +engrossed and interested him; and, perhaps for the first time, +he tasted the delights of a well-filled purse, as he accumulated +art treasures and pictures; but, above all, a latent hope, to +which he gave no voice or title, kept him patient and cheerful.</p> + +<p>'It was too soon; but by and by she will find it out for +herself,' he would say, as he strolled through the galleries, or +stood by some moss-grown fountain to buy flowers from a +dark-eyed Florentine girl.</p> + +<p>Should he go back with Abercrombie next week, or should +he push on towards Greece and the Holy Land? It was a +little difficult to decide, but somehow Michael never answered +that question. Fate took the matter into her own hands, as +she often does when the knot becomes too intricate for the +bungling fingers of poor mortals.</p> + +<p>Somehow Audrey became convinced in her own mind that +Michael would certainly accompany his friend back to England. +They had started together; was it likely that Michael would +allow him to return alone? and when March came she began +to look anxiously for a letter announcing this intention.</p> + +<p>She was thinking of this one afternoon as she sat talking +to her mother. It was a cold, dreary day, and Audrey had +just remarked that no one in Rutherford would think of +leaving their fireside on such an afternoon, when Geraldine +entered, glowing from the cold wind, and looking cosy and +comfortable in her warm furs.</p> + +<p>'My dear, what a day to venture out,' remonstrated her +mother; 'even Audrey says the wind is cruel.'</p> + +<p>'I am not such a foe to the east wind as Michael is,' +returned Geraldine cheerfully, as she seated herself out of the +range of the fire; 'and Percival never likes me to cosset +myself—that is why I never take cold. By the bye, I heard +something about Michael a little while ago. Just as I was +talking to Mrs. Charrington, who should come in but Dora +Abercrombie! You know Dora, Audrey. She is the second +one; but she is not half so good-looking as Gwendoline.'</p> + +<p>'She is related to Mrs. Charrington, is she not, Gage?'</p> + +<p>'Yes; a step-niece, or something of that sort; not a very +near relationship, but they are very intimate. She says her +brother is expected in Portland Place to-morrow or the day +after.' Here Audrey gave a start. 'Take care, my dear: +the urn is running over; you are filling the teapot too full.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_466" id="Page_466">{466}</a></span> +Shall I ring for Crauford? No? Well, as I was saying'—rather +absently, for her eyes were still following the thin +stream on the tea-tray that Audrey was hurriedly wiping up—'Master Dick +is expected back—and here Dora was a trifle +mysterious; and then it came out that he was engaged—had +been engaged for the last eight months; only the mother of +his lady-love had turned restive. But now things were +smoother, and she hoped that they would soon be married. +Poor Michael! I am afraid he has not had a very cheerful +companion all these months.'</p> + +<p>'Did Miss Abercrombie mention Michael?' asked Audrey, +speaking with manifest effort. How tiresome Gage was! as +though anyone wanted to hear about Dick Abercrombie's love +affairs!</p> + +<p>'Oh dear yes! and that is the worst part of all,' returned +Geraldine, with the zest that is always shown by the bearer of +bad news, even by a superior person like young Mrs. Harcourt. +'I had no idea Michael would play truant for so long: actually +she says her brother is coming home without him! and he is +going to spend the summer and autumn in Greece and the +Holy Land, and perhaps winter in Algiers. In fact, Dick +Abercrombie says he does not know when he means to come back.'</p> + +<p>'What is that you say, my dear?' asked Dr. Ross, who +entered the room in time to hear the last clause. 'Were you +speaking of Michael?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, father dear.' And Geraldine willingly recapitulated +the whole of her speech for his benefit. 'And I do wish someone +would write and give him a good scolding for staying away +so long, as though no one wanted him! And we have all been +missing him so badly!'</p> + +<p>'By the bye, that reminds me that I was called away just +now to speak to Fergusson, and I have actually left my letter +to Michael open on my study-table; and I meant it to go by +this post. Do you mind just slipping it into its envelope, +Audrey?—it is already directed. Thank you, my dear,' as +Audrey silently left the room.</p> + +<p>Was Dr. Ross really anxious about his letter, or had he +noticed the white look on his daughter's face, and feared that +others might notice it too?</p> + +<p>Audrey never knew how long she sat before her father's +study-table, neither could she have recalled a single thought +that passed through her mind. A dull throbbing pain was at +her heart; the cold numbness that had crept over her as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_467" id="Page_467">{467}</a></span> +Michael had bidden her good-bye, and which kept her dumb +before him, was over her now—some strange pulse seemed +beating in her head. He was going still farther away from +her. He was not coming back. He would never come back. +Something would happen to him. She would never see his +kind face again—never, never!</p> + +<p>Perhaps this long silence had angered him—Michael, who +had always been so gentle to her, on whose face she had never +seen a frown! Michael had grown weary of endurance, and had +given up all hope of winning her. Oh, if he had only trusted +her! if he would only have believed that she would have done +her very best to make him happy! How could he be so cruel +to himself and to her? How could he have the heart to punish +her so bitterly, as though she were to blame? Could she help +her nature any more than she could help this separation from +her dearest friend?</p> + +<p>And then there came over her the deadly feeling of possible +loss, and a desolation too terrible to contemplate. She had +mourned very tenderly for Cyril; but if Michael died—if any +ill should befall him in those distant lands—'Oh, I could not +bear it!' was her inward cry. 'Life without Michael would +be impossible,' and as this thought flashed through her mind +her eyes suddenly fell on an empty space at the end of her +father's letter. With a sudden impulse she took up the pen +and wrote three words across the page in her clear, legible +writing—'Michael, come. Audrey.' She was almost breathless +with her haste as she thrust it into the envelope, and carried it +to the boy who was waiting for the letters. Then she went +back to the drawing-room, for she dare not trust herself to be +alone another moment. What had she done? What would +Michael think of her? What must she think of herself? No +wonder Geraldine looked at her in surprise as she crossed the +room and took up her work.</p> + +<p>'What a time you have been, Audrey!' she said, a little +reproachfully. 'I have been waiting to bid you good-bye. +Father is going to walk with me to Hillside, so Percival will +not mind my being so late. How cold your face and hands +are, and I am as warm as possible! You have been running +about those draughty passages, and have taken a chill. She +looks pale, doesn't she, mother?'</p> + +<p>'Come, come,' interrupted her father impatiently, 'you must +not keep me waiting any longer, Geraldine. Sit down by the +fire and warm yourself, my dear.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_468" id="Page_468">{468}</a></span></p> + +<p>And for one moment Dr. Ross's hand lay lightly on Audrey's +brown hair. Did he guess the real meaning of the girl's downcast +and sorrowful looks? And why was there a pleased smile +on his face as he followed his eldest daughter out of the room?</p> + +<p>'I shall write to Michael and tell him to come home,' he +said to himself, as he buttoned up his great-coat. 'I promised +him that I would watch over his interests, and I shall tell him +that in my opinion there is some hope for him now.'</p> + +<p>The next few days were terrible to Audrey. More than +once she feared she would be ill. She could not sleep properly. +The mornings, the afternoons, the evenings, were endless to +her. Mollie's merry chatter seemed to jar on her. Her +mother's kindly commonplace remarks seemed devoid of interest, +and yet above all things she dreaded to be alone. Was she +growing nervous? for any sudden sound, an unaccustomed footstep, +even the clanging of the door-bell, made her start, and +drove the blood from her heart. Would he write or would he +telegraph? Should she hear one day that he was on his way +home? Audrey was asking herself these questions morning, +noon, and night. She felt as though the suspense would wear +her out in time. If anyone had told Audrey that for the first +time in her life she had all the symptoms that belong to a +certain well-known disease—that these cold and hot fits, this +self-distrustfulness and new timidity that were transforming her +into a different Audrey, were only its salient features—she +would have scouted the idea very fiercely. That she was in +love with Michael, and that her love for Cyril was a very dim, +shadowy sort of affection compared with her love for Michael,—such +a thought would have utterly shocked her; and yet it +was the truth. Michael had always been more to her than +ever she had guessed, and this long absence had taught her the +unmistakable fact that she could not do without him.</p> + +<p>Audrey struggled on as well as she could through those +restless, miserable days. She would not give in; she had +never given in in her life to any passing tide of emotion, and +she would not be weak now. Every morning, after a wakeful, +unrefreshing night, she braced herself to meet the day's duties. +She read French and German with Mollie; she superintended +her practising, and only wandered off in a dream when Mollie's +scales and exercises became too monotonous. She went up to +Hillside and played with Leonard in the nursery, and though +Geraldine's sharp eyes discovered that something was amiss, +and that Audrey was not in her usual spirits, she had the tact<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_469" id="Page_469">{469}</a></span> +and wisdom not to press for an immediate confidence; and +Audrey was very grateful for this forbearance. Audrey's sturdy +nature could brook no self-indulgence, and though the March +winds were cold, and the Brail lanes deep in miry clay, she +persisted in paying her accustomed weekly visit to Thomas +O'Brien.</p> + +<p>Mollie had a cold, and so had established a claim to remain +by the fireside; but Audrey would listen to no weak persuasion +to ensconce herself comfortably in the opposite easy-chair. On +the contrary, she put on her thickest boots, and, tucking up +her skirts, braved wind and mud, and even a cold mizzle of rain, +on her way back, and had her reward, for the walk freshened +her, and in cheering her old friend she felt her own spirits revive.</p> + +<p>She was in a happier mood as she let herself in, and shook +out her wet cloak. She was in far too disreputable a state to +present herself in the drawing-room; besides, she was late, and +she must get ready for dinner. She ran upstairs lightly, but at +the top of the staircase she suddenly stopped as though she had +been turned to stone. And yet there was nothing very astonishing +in the fact that a small brown dog, with very short legs, +should be pattering in a cheerful manner down the corridor, or +that he should utter a whine of friendly and delighted recognition +when he saw Audrey; and if she stared at him as though he +were some ghostly apparition, that was not Booty's fault. But +the next moment she had caught him up, and had darted with +him into her own room.</p> + +<p>'Oh, Booty, Booty!' she gasped, as the little animal licked +her pale face in a most feeling manner; 'to think he has come, +Booty!' And if the application of a warm tongue could have +given comfort and assurance, Audrey could have had plenty of +both.</p> + +<p>For a little while she could do nothing but sit there hugging +the dog, and making little plaintive speeches to him, until she +heard Mollie's step at the door, and then she put him down +hastily.</p> + +<p>'Oh, Audrey dear!' exclaimed Mollie, breathless with +excitement. 'Have you really got back at last? They are all +asking for you. Dinner is nearly ready, and you have not +begun to dress yet. And who do you think is in the drawing-room?'</p> + +<p>For Booty, who always knew when he was not wanted, had +pattered softly out of the room, thinking it high time to rejoin +his master.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_470" id="Page_470">{470}</a></span></p> + +<p>'Is it Michael?' asked Audrey, with her face well hidden in +her wardrobe.</p> + +<p>'To think of your guessing like that!' returned Mollie in a +vexed tone. 'Whatever put Captain Burnett in your head, +Audrey? Everyone else is so surprised. Mrs. Ross nearly +jumped off her chair when she heard his voice. He has been +here two hours, and we have all been so busy getting his room +ready.'</p> + +<p>'I am very glad he has come,' returned Audrey, trying to +speak as usual; 'but now will you go down, Mollie dear? for +I shall dress more quickly if you do not talk to me. You may +give me my dress if you like. There, that will do.' For +Mollie's chatter was unendurable.</p> + +<p>'How was she to go down and meet him before them all?' +she thought, as her trembling fingers bungled with the fastening. +Her cheeks were burning, and yet her hands were cold as ice. +Would he see how nervous she was, and how she dreaded to +meet him? And yet the thought that he was there—in the +house—and that in a few minutes she should hear his beloved +voice, made her almost dizzy with happiness. And as she +clasped the brilliant cross on her neck she hardly dare look at +herself, for fear she should read her own secret in her eyes.</p> + +<p>The gong sounded before she was ready, and she dared not +linger, for fear Mollie should come again in search of her. +Without giving herself time for thought, she hurried down, and +stood panting a little before the drawing-room door. Yes, they +were all there: her father and mother and Mollie; and someone +else—imperfectly seen through a sort of haze—was there too! +Audrey never knew what word of greeting came to her lips as +Michael took her hand. Her eyes were never lifted, as she felt +that strong, warm pressure. His low-toned 'I have come, +Audrey,' might mean anything or nothing, and was met by +absolute silence on her part. Perhaps Michael felt this meeting +embarrassing, for he dropped her hand in another moment and +spoke to Mollie, and Audrey took refuge with her father.</p> + +<p>But dinner was on the table, and she must take her seat +opposite to him. It was Mollie who was beside him. Happily, +no one spoke to her for the first few minutes. Dr. Ross was +questioning Michael about his route, and Michael seemed to +have a great deal to say about his journey.</p> + +<p>Audrey recovered herself, and breathed a little more freely. +He was talking to her father, and she could venture one glance +at him. How well he looked! He was not so pale, and his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_471" id="Page_471">{471}</a></span> +moustache seemed darker—she had never thought him handsome +before. But at this point, and as though aware of her scrutiny, +Michael turned his face full on her, and a flash from the keen +blue eyes made her head droop over her plate. During the rest +of dinner she scarcely spoke, and more than once Mrs. Ross +looked at her in some perplexity. Audrey was very strange, +she thought. Had she and Michael quarrelled, that they had +met so coldly, with not even a cousinly kiss after his long +absence. And now they did not speak to each other!</p> + +<p>Dinner was later than usual that night, and the prayer-bell +sounded before they left the table. Audrey whispered to Mollie +to play the hymn; but she was almost sorry she had done so +when she found that Michael had no hymn-book, and she must +offer him hers. He took it from her, perhaps because he noticed +that her hand was not steady; and she could hear his clear, +full bass, though she could not utter a note.</p> + +<p>He was still beside her as they left the schoolroom; but as +she was about to follow her mother and Mollie, she felt his +hand on hers.</p> + +<p>'Come with me a moment,' he said. 'I want to show you +something.'</p> + +<p>And there was no resisting the firm grasp that compelled +her to obey. He was taking her to her father's study; and +there he shut the door, as though to exclude the outer world. +She was trembling with the fear of what he would say to her, +and how she was to answer him, when he came up to her and +said, in his old familiar voice:</p> + +<p>'Are you never going to look at me again, Audrey?'</p> + +<p>Something amused, and yet caressing, in his tone made her +raise her eyes, and the look that met hers said so plainly that +he understood everything, that her embarrassment and shyness +passed away for ever; and as he took her in his arms, with a +word or two that told her of his deep inward gladness, a sense +of well-being and utter content seemed to assure her that she +had found her true rest at last.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_472" id="Page_472">{472}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LI" id="CHAPTER_LI"></a>CHAPTER LI</h2> + +<h3>'LOVE'S AFTERMATH'</h3> + +<table summary="quotation"> +<tr><td> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse">'I seek no copy now of life's first half:</div> +<div class="verse">Leave here the pages with long musing curled,</div> +<div class="verse">And write me new my future's epigraph,</div> +<div class="verse">New angel mine, unhoped for in the world.'</div> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<div class="sign"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Browning.</span></div> +</div> +</td></tr> +</table> + + +<p>Neither of them spoke for some minutes; perhaps Michael's +strong emotion felt the need of silence. But presently he said +in a voice that thrilled her with its tenderness:</p> + +<p>'Audrey, you must never be afraid of me again.'</p> + +<p>'I shall never need to be afraid again,' she returned softly. +'Oh, Michael, if you only knew how dreadful it has been all +the week! I would not go through it again for worlds.'</p> + +<p>'Has it been so bad as that?' in his old rallying tone, for +he saw how greatly she was moved.</p> + +<p>'You have no idea how bad it was. I felt that I had done +something very bold and unmaidenly in writing that postscript +to father's letter. I had longed for your return; but after +that I began to dread it: I was so afraid of what you must +think of me.'</p> + +<p>'I think you have known my opinion on that subject for a +great many years,' he replied gently. 'If you had not been +different from other girls, if you had not been immeasurably +above them all in my eyes, I would never have asked you to +send me that message. I knew I could rely on your perfect +truth, and you have not disappointed me.'</p> + +<p>This delicate flattery soothed her and appeased her sensitiveness. +Michael watched her for a moment; then he drew up +a chair to the fire in his old way.</p> + +<p>'You must sit there and talk to me for a little while,' he +said quietly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_473" id="Page_473">{473}</a></span></p> + +<p>And as she looked at him rather doubtfully, and suggested +that her mother would be wondering at their absence, he +negatived the idea at once.</p> + +<p>'By this time your father will have told her everything; +he has been in my confidence all these months. No, they +will not want us, and I have not seen you yet—at least, you +have not seen me; I am quite sure of that.' And as Audrey's +dimples came into play at this remark, he very nearly made +her feel shy again by saying, 'You have no idea how lovely +you have grown, Audrey! Has anyone told you so, I wonder?'</p> + +<p>'No, of course not. Who do you think would talk such +nonsense to me?'</p> + +<p>But her blush made him still more certain of the fact.</p> + +<p>'At any rate, it is the dearest face in the world to me,' he +went on, still more earnestly. 'Audrey, I think even if you +had not written those three little words, I must still have +come home. I could not have stayed away from you any +longer.'</p> + +<p>'If I had only known that, I might have spared myself a +great deal of pain,' she replied quickly; 'but they told me +that you were going to Greece and the Holy Land, and Mr. +Abercrombie had come back alone, and I thought—I thought +that I should never see you again.'</p> + +<p>'I began to have the same sort of feeling myself, and then +I was so tired of waiting. How long have I wanted you, +Audrey?—ten or twelve years, at least. I begin to think that +there never was such a fellow for constancy.'</p> + +<p>'Ten or twelve years! What can you mean, Michael?'</p> + +<p>But she knew well enough what he meant, only she was +woman enough to love to hear him say it.</p> + +<p>'Oh, it was quite twelve years ago! I can remember the +occasion quite well. You were in a short white frock, and you +had your hair streaming over your shoulders. You were such +a pretty little girl, Audrey. I admired you far more than I +admired Gage, with all her regular features.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, what nonsense, Michael!'</p> + +<p>'Nonsense! You will tell me next that you do not remember +asking me to give you a kiss. "I want to kiss you, +Mike, because you are so nice and smart." Do you think I +shall ever forget that? I lost my heart to you then.'</p> + +<p>'You must not expect me to remember those things,' she +returned, blushing like a rose.</p> + +<p>'No, darling, I suppose not; you were only a child then.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_474" id="Page_474">{474}</a></span> +But, all the same, these memories are very sweet to me. You +have been my one and only love, and you know that now.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, Michael!' And now the gray eyes filled with tears, +for these words sounded like a reproach to her.</p> + +<p>'You must not misunderstand me,' he returned, shocked at +her evident misconception of his words. 'Do you think that +I begrudge the love you gave that poor fellow? Some day, +when you are my wife, I will tell you all I think on this +subject; but not now—not to-night, of all nights, when I +know and feel for the first time that my treasure is in my own +keeping.'</p> + +<p>And then he stopped, and, in rather an agitated voice, +begged her that he might not see tears in her dear eyes to-night.</p> + +<p>'I did not mean to be foolish,' she returned, in a low voice; +'only, when I think of all you have suffered, and how patient +you have been, and how beautifully you bore it all for our +sakes, I feel as though I should never make up to you for all +you have gone through. Michael'—and here her look was a +little wistful—'are you sure that I shall never disappoint +you—that what I have to give will content you?'</p> + +<p>But his answer fully satisfied her on this point. He was +more than content, he said; he needed no assurances of her +affection—he would never need them. The first look at her +face had told him all he wanted to know.</p> + +<p>'I think I can read your very thoughts, Audrey—that I +know you better than you know yourself;' and as Michael said +this there was a smile upon his face that seemed to baffle her—a +smile so penetrating and sweet that it lingered in her memory +long afterwards.</p> + +<p>And a few minutes later Michael proved the truth of his +words. He was showing her the ring that he had chosen—a +half-hoop of diamonds of the finest water, and their lustre and +brilliancy almost dazzled Audrey.</p> + +<p>'I remember your love for diamonds,' he said, as he took +her hand.</p> + +<p>But she did not answer him. She was looking rather sadly +at a little gold ring she had always worn.</p> + +<p>'Do not take it off!' he said hastily, as he read the tender +reluctance in her face. 'Dear Audrey, why should not my +diamonds keep company with his ring?' And, as her eyes +expressed her gratitude, he slipped the brilliant ring into +its place. 'They will soon have to make way for another. +The diamonds will make a capital guard.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_475" id="Page_475">{475}</a></span></p> + +<p>But though he evidently expected an answer to this, Audrey +made no response, except to remark on the lateness of the hour; +and then Michael did consent to adjourn to the drawing-room.</p> + +<p>They were eagerly expected and heartily welcomed, and as +her father folded her in his arms with a murmured blessing, +and she received her mother's tearful congratulations, Audrey +felt how truly they appreciated her choice. On this occasion +there were no drawbacks, no whispered fear of what Geraldine +and her husband might say. Mrs. Ross begged that she +might be allowed to carry the good news to Hillside. They +were coming up to dinner, and she thought that it was due +to them that they should be prepared beforehand; and, as +everyone assented to this, Mrs. Ross started early the next +morning on her delightful embassage.</p> + +<p>But she had miscalculated the amount of pleasure that her +news would impart. Geraldine cried with joy when she heard +the news, and nothing would satisfy her except to put on her +bonnet and walk back with her mother to Woodcote.</p> + +<p>She interrupted a delightful <i>tête-à-tête</i> between the lovers. +Not that either of them minded; for, as Michael sensibly +remarked, he expected that they would have plenty of <i>tête-à-têtes</i> +in their life, and Audrey was sufficiently fond of her sister +to welcome her under any circumstances.</p> + +<p>'How did you think I could wait until the evening?' she +said, as she threw her arms round Audrey. 'Oh, my darling, +do you know how glad I am about this? And to think that +no one ever imagined it would be Michael!' And then, as he +gave her a brotherly kiss, and begged that he, too, might be +congratulated, she continued earnestly: 'Yes, indeed; and we +have all been as blind and stupid as possible! And yet, when +one comes to think of it, you and Audrey are cut out for each +other.'</p> + +<p>'I was afraid you might say something about the disparity +in our ages—five-and-twenty and forty; and actually I have +some gray hairs already, Gage.'</p> + +<p>'Nonsense!' she returned indignantly. 'I never saw you +look younger and better in your life; and as for disparity, as +you call it, isn't it just the same between Percival and myself? +and can any couple be happier? If you are only as good to +Audrey as Percival is to me, she will be the happiest woman +in the world!'</p> + +<p>It was a pity Mr. Harcourt could not see his wife as she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_476" id="Page_476">{476}</a></span> +made this speech, for she looked so lovely in her matronly dignity +that Michael and Audrey exchanged an admiring glance. But +the climax of their success was felt to be reached when Mr. +Harcourt arrived that evening.</p> + +<p>'You have done the best day's work that ever you did in +your life when you said "Yes" to Burnett!' was his first +speech to Audrey; and then he had turned very red, and +wrung her hand with such violence that it throbbed with pain.</p> + +<p>'I think you ought to give her a kiss, Percy,' suggested his +wife a little mischievously; for it was well known that Mr. +Harcourt objected to any such demonstration, except to his +own wife.</p> + +<p>'No, thank you,' returned Audrey, stepping back. 'I am +quite sure of Percival's sympathy without putting it to such +a painful proof.'</p> + +<p>'I shall kiss Audrey on her wedding-day,' replied Mr. Harcourt +solemnly; 'that is, if her husband will permit me,' with +a bow to Michael.</p> + +<p>But this remark drove his sister-in-law to the other end of +the room, so that she lost a certain straightforward and complimentary +speech that gave a great deal of pleasure to Michael, +and which he never could be induced to repeat to her.</p> + +<p>No one could doubt Audrey's happiness after the first few +days of strangeness had worn off, and she had grown used to +her new position as Michael's <i>fiancée</i>. Michael had been very +careful not to scare her at first—he had no wish to bring back +the shyness that had made their first evening such a misery to +them both—and his forbearance was rewarded when he saw +the old frankness and joyousness return, and Audrey became +her own sweet self again.</p> + +<p>Michael was an ardent lover, but he was not an exacting +one: Audrey could have had as much freedom as she needed +during their brief engagement, but she had ceased to desire +such freedom.</p> + +<p>She remembered sometimes with faint, unavoidable regret +that Cyril's demonstrativeness had at times wearied her; but +she had no such feeling with Michael: when he left her for a +few days to complete the purchase of a pretty little property he +had secured for their future home in one of the loveliest spots +in Surrey, she was as restless during his absence as ever +Geraldine had been.</p> + +<p>Michael was surprised to find how she had missed him, and +how overjoyed she was at his return; but he never told her so,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_477" id="Page_477">{477}</a></span> +or ever alluded to the mistake that had doomed them both to +such misery.</p> + +<p>'My innocent darling! how could she know that I loved +her, when I never told her so? It was I who would have been +to blame if she had married Cyril. God grant that in that +case she might never have found out her mistake; but I do +not know. She would always have cared too much for Michael, +and he would have found it out in time;' but he kept such +thoughts to himself.</p> + +<p>Audrey had no objection to offer when Michael pleaded that +they should be married early in August. He had waited long +enough, she knew, and there was nothing to gain by waiting.</p> + +<p>But she had a long talk with her mother and Geraldine +about Mollie, whom she still regarded as her special <i>protégée</i>.</p> + +<p>'Michael has Kester,' she suggested; 'so I daresay he will +not mind Mollie sharing our home.'</p> + +<p>'You will make a great mistake if you ask him any such +question,' returned Geraldine, in her practical, matter-of-fact +way. 'Kester will be at Oxford, and during the long vacation +he will join some reading party or other—Michael told me so; +but Mollie would want a home all the year round. Why do +you not leave her at Woodcote? Mother will be dreadfully +dull without you at first, and, of course, I cannot always be +with her. You are very fond of Mollie, are you not, mother?'</p> + +<p>'She is a dear, good child, and I should love to have her +with me,' was Mrs. Ross's reply. 'That is a clever thought of +yours, my love, and Michael certainly will want his wife to +himself—men always do.'</p> + +<p>'If you really think so, mother, and if Mollie does not mind, +she shall stay at Woodcote,' was Audrey's reply.</p> + +<p>And when Mollie was consulted she proved quite willing to +do as they all wished.</p> + +<p>'Of course, dear Mrs. Ross will be dull. And I know I +should only be in Captain Burnett's way,' argued Mollie, a little +tearfully. 'I knew that from the first. I shall miss you +dreadfully, Audrey. No one will ever take your place; but I +shall feel as though I were helping you somehow.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, and then you will pay me long visits, Mollie; and, of +course, Michael will often bring me to see mother.'</p> + +<p>And this charming prospect, and the promise that she should +be Audrey's bridesmaid, speedily consoled Mollie.</p> + +<p>Michael had stipulated that their honeymoon should be +spent in Scotland, and to Audrey's amusement Braemar was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_478" id="Page_478">{478}</a></span> +the place he finally selected, and he would have the very +cottage, or rather cottages, that Dr. Ross had taken for his +family.</p> + +<p>'We can shut up some of the rooms and only use as many +as we want,' he said, when Mrs. Ross had complained of the +roominess. 'We are rich people, and can afford it; and as +Crauford is to be Audrey's maid, she can come with us and see +that things are comfortable. Do you remember that sitting-room, +Audrey, and the horse-hair sofa, and the rowan-berries +and heather in the big china jars? By the bye, you must have +a gray tweed dress and a deerstalker cap, and look as you used +to look; and there is the little bridge where Gage and I used +to meet you all when you had had a day's outing on the +moors. Shall you not love to go there again, Audrey?</p> + +<p>And in answer Audrey said 'Yes' rather demurely.</p> + +<p>But she was not demure at all when two months afterwards +she sat on the little bridge in the sunset, watching the very +same ducks dibble with their yellow bills in the brook that +trickled so musically over the stones, while Michael stood +beside her, lazily throwing in pebbles for Booty's amusement; +on the contrary, she was laughing and talking with a great deal +of animation, and, strange to say, she wore the gray tweed, and +the deerstalker cap was on her bright brown hair.</p> + +<p>'We have had such a delicious day!' she was saying. 'I +think there is nothing, after all, like a Scotch moor. Do look +at those ducks, Michael; how angry they are with Booty, and +how ridiculous they look waddling over those wet stones!'</p> + +<p>'I was thinking of something else,' he replied; and his +tone made Audrey look up rather quickly. 'Do you remember +your tirade on the subject of single blessedness, my Lady +Bountiful, and how freedom outbalanced all the delights of +wedded bliss? I recollect we were on the moors then, and +Kester was with us, and I took out my pocket-book and wrote +down the date. Well, I will be magnanimous and not ask an +awkward question. Six weeks of married life is not such a +long time, after all.'</p> + +<p>But she interrupted him with some impatience:</p> + +<p>'Michael, how can you recall such nonsense? But of course +you are only doing it to tease me. As though I were not +much happier than I was then!'</p> + +<p>'Are you really happier, Audrey—really and truly, my +darling?'</p> + +<p>'Oh, Michael, what a question! Am I not your wife? Is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_479" id="Page_479">{479}</a></span> +not that answer enough? Do you think I would change +places with any other woman in the world, or even with my +old self?'</p> + +<p>And as he looked at her bright face he knew that she was +speaking the truth, and that Audrey Burnett so loved and +reverenced her husband that she was likely to be a happier +woman than Audrey Ross had been.</p> + +<h4 class="bgap">THE END</h4> + +<h6 class="bgap"><i>Printed by</i> <span class="smcap">R. & R. Clark, Limited</span>, <i>Edinburgh</i>.</h6> + +<hr class="full"/> + +<!--Page 1--> + + + +<h3>MACMILLAN'S<br/> +THREE-AND-SIXPENNY<br/> +LIBRARY OF BOOKS<br/> +BY POPULAR AUTHORS</h3> + +<h5>Crown 8vo.</h5> + + +<p><i>This series comprises over four +hundred volumes in various departments +of Literature. Prominent among +them is an attractive edition of</i> The +Works of Thackeray, <i>issued under the +editorship of Mr. Lewis Melville. It contains +all the Original Illustrations, and +includes a great number of scattered pieces +and illustrations which have not hitherto +appeared in any collected edition of the +works.</i> The Works of Charles Dickens, +<i>reprinted from the first editions, with all +the Original Illustrations, and with Introductions, +Biographical and Bibliographical, +by Charles Dickens the Younger, and an +attractive edition of</i> The Novels of Charles +Lever, <i>illustrated by Phiz and G. Cruikshank,<!--Page 2--> +have also a place in the Library. +The attention of book buyers may be especially +directed to</i> The Border Edition +of the Waverley Novels, <i>edited by Mr. +Andrew Lang, which, with its large type +and convenient form, and its copious illustrations +by well-known artists, possesses +features which place it in the forefront of +editions now obtainable of the famous novels.</i> +The Works of Mr. Thomas Hardy, <i>including +the poems, have also been added +to the Three-and-Sixpenny Library.</i></p> + +<p><i>Among other works by notable contemporary +authors will be found those of</i> +Mr. F. Marion Crawford, Rolf Boldrewood, +Mr. H. G. Wells, Mrs. Gertrude Atherton, +Mr. Egerton Castle, Mr. A. E. W. Mason, +<i>and</i> Miss Rosa Nouchette Carey; <i>while +among the productions of an earlier period +may be mentioned the works of</i> Charles +Kingsley, Frederick Denison Maurice, +Thomas Hughes, <i>and</i> Dean Farrar; <i>and +the novels and tales of</i> Charlotte M. Yonge, +Mrs. Craik, <i>and</i> Mrs. Oliphant.<!--Page 3--></p> + + + + +<h3 class="gap">THE<br /> +WORKS OF THACKERAY</h3> + +<h5><i>Reprints of the First Editions, with all the Original Illustrations, +and with Facsimiles of Wrappers, etc.</i></h5> + + +<p>Messrs. <span class="smcap">Macmillan & Co.</span>, Limited, beg leave to invite the +attention of book buyers to the Edition of <span class="smcap">The Works of +Thackeray</span> in their Three-and-Sixpenny Library, which is the +Completest Edition of the Author's Works that has been placed +on the market.</p> + +<p>The Publishers have been fortunate in securing the services of +Mr. <span class="smcap">Lewis Melville</span>, the well-known Thackeray Expert. With +his assistance they have been able to include in this Edition a +great number of scattered pieces from Thackeray's pen, and illustrations +from his pencil which have not hitherto been contained in +any collected edition of the works. Mr. Melville has read all +the sheets as they passed through the press, and collated them +carefully with the original editions. He has also provided Bibliographical +Introductions and occasional Footnotes.</p> + + +<h5>List of the Series.</h5> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p class="noind smcap">vol.</p> +<ol> +<li>Vanity Fair. With 190 Illustrations.</li> + +<li>The History of Pendennis. With 180 Illustrations.</li> + +<li>The Newcomes. With 167 Illustrations.</li> + +<li>The History of Henry Esmond.</li> + +<li>The Virginians. With 148 Illustrations.</li> + +<li>Barry Lyndon and Catherine. With 4 Illustrations.</li> + +<li>The Paris and Irish Sketch Books, With 63 Illustrations.<!--Page 4--></li> + +<li>Christmas Books—<span class="smcap">Mrs. Perkins's +Ball</span>: <span class="smcap">Our Street</span>: <span class="smcap">Dr. Birch and his Young +Friends</span>: <span class="smcap">The Kickleburys on the Rhine</span>: <span class="smcap">The +Rose and the Ring</span>. With 127 Illustrations.</li> + +<li>Burlesques: From Cornhill to Grand +Cairo: and Juvenilia. With 84 Illustrations.</li> + +<li>The Book of Snobs, and other Contributions +to <i>Punch</i>. With 159 Illustrations.</li> + +<li>The Yellowplush Correspondence: +Jeames's Diary: The Great Hoggarty Diamond: Etc. +With 47 Illustrations.</li> + +<li>Critical Papers in Literature.</li> + +<li>Critical Papers in Art; Stubbs's Calendar: +Barber Cox. With 99 Illustrations.</li> + +<li>Lovel the Widower, and other Stories. +With 40 Illustrations.</li> + +<li>The Fitz-Boodle Papers (including +Men's Wives), and various Articles. 8 Illustrations.</li> + +<li>The English Humourists of the 18th +Century: The Four Georges: Etc. 45 Illustrations.</li> + +<li>Travels in London: Letters to a Young +Man about Town: and other Contributions to <i>Punch</i> +(1845-1850). With 73 Illustrations.</li> + +<li>Ballads and Verses, and Miscellaneous +Contributions to <i>Punch</i>. With 78 Illustrations.</li> + +<li>A Shabby Genteel Story, and The +Adventures of Philip. With Illustrations.</li> + +<li>Roundabout Papers and Denis Duval. +With Illustrations.</li> +</ol> +</div> + +<!--Page 5--> + + +<h4 class="gap">MACMILLAN'S</h4> +<h3>EDITION OF THACKERAY</h3> + + +<h5>SOME OPINIONS OF THE PRESS</h5> + +<p><i>EXPOSITORY TIMES.</i>—"An edition to do credit even to this +publishing house, and not likely to be surpassed until they surpass it with +a cheaper and better themselves."</p> + +<p><i>WHITEHALL REVIEW.</i>—"Never before has such a cheap and +excellent edition of Thackeray been seen."</p> + +<p><i>ACADEMY.</i>—"A better one-volume edition at three shillings and +sixpence could not be desired."</p> + +<p><i>GRAPHIC.</i>—"In its plain but pretty blue binding is both serviceable +and attractive."</p> + +<p><i>DAILY GRAPHIC.</i>—"An excellent, cheap reprint."</p> + +<p><i>PALL MALL GAZETTE.</i>—"The size of the books is handy, paper +and printing are good, and the binding, which is of blue cloth, is simple +but tasteful. Altogether the publishers are to be congratulated upon a +reprint which ought to be popular."</p> + +<p><i>GLOBE.</i>—"The paper is thin but good, the type used is clear to read, +and the binding is neat and effective."</p> + +<p><i>LADY'S PICTORIAL.</i>—"The paper is good, the type clear and +large, and the binding tasteful. Messrs. Macmillan are to be thanked for +so admirable and inexpensive an edition of our great satirist."</p> + +<p><i>WORLD.</i>—"Nothing could be better than the new edition."</p> + +<p><i>BLACK AND WHITE.</i>—"The more one sees of the edition the +more enamoured of it he becomes. It is so good and neat, immaculate as +to print, and admirably bound."</p> + +<p><i>SCOTSMAN.</i>—"This admirable edition."</p> + +<p><i>LITERARY WORLD.</i>—"The paper and printing and general get +up are everything that one could desire."</p> + +<p><i>ST. JAMES'S GAZETTE.</i>—"A clear and pretty edition."<!--Page 6--></p> + + + + +<h4 class="gap">THE</h4> +<h3>WORKS OF DICKENS</h3> + +<h5>Reprints of the First Editions, with all the original Illustrations, +and with Introductions, Biographical and Bibliographical, +by <span class="smcap">Charles Dickens</span> the Younger.</h5> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<ol> +<li>THE PICKWICK PAPERS. With 50 Illustrations.</li> + +<li>OLIVER TWIST. With 27 Illustrations.</li> + +<li>NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. With 44 Illustrations.</li> + +<li>MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. With 41 Illustrations.</li> + +<li>THE OLD CURIOSITY SHOP. With 97 +Illustrations.</li> + +<li>BARNABY RUDGE. With 76 Illustrations.</li> + +<li>DOMBEY AND SON. With 40 Illustrations.</li> + +<li>CHRISTMAS BOOKS. With 65 Illustrations.</li> + +<li>SKETCHES BY BOZ. With 44 Illustrations.</li> + +<li>DAVID COPPERFIELD. With 40 Illustrations.</li> + +<li>AMERICAN NOTES <span class="smcap">and</span> PICTURES FROM +ITALY. With 4 Illustrations.</li> + +<li>THE LETTERS OF CHARLES DICKENS.</li> + +<li>BLEAK HOUSE. With 43 Illustrations.</li> + +<li>LITTLE DORRIT. With 40 Illustrations.</li> + +<li>A TALE OF TWO CITIES. With 15 Illustrations.</li> + +<li>GREAT EXPECTATIONS; <span class="smcap">and</span> HARD +TIMES.</li> + +<li>OUR MUTUAL FRIEND. With 40 Illustrations.<!--Page 7--></li> +</ol> +</div> + +<h4 class="gap">MACMILLAN'S</h4> +<h3>EDITION OF DICKENS</h3> + + +<h5>SOME OPINIONS OF THE PRESS</h5> + +<p><i>ATHENÆUM.</i>—"Handy in form, well printed, illustrated with +reduced reproductions of the original plates, introduced with bibliographical +notes by the novelist's son, and above all issued at a most moderate +price, this edition will appeal successfully to a large number of readers."</p> + +<p><i>SPEAKER.</i>—"We do not think there exists a better edition."</p> + +<p><i>MORNING POST.</i>—"The edition will be highly appreciated."</p> + +<p><i>SCOTSMAN.</i>—"This reprint offers peculiar attractions. Of a handy +size, in one volume, of clear, good-sized print, and with its capital comic +illustrations, it is a volume to be desired."</p> + +<p><i>NEWCASTLE CHRONICLE.</i>—"The most satisfactory edition of +the book that has been issued."</p> + +<p><i>GLASGOW HERALD.</i>—"None of the recent editions of Dickens +can be compared with that which Messrs. Macmillan inaugurate with the +issue of <i>Pickwick</i>.... Printed in a large, clear type, very readable."</p> + +<p><i>GLOBE.</i>—"They have used an admirably clear type and good paper, +and the binding is unexceptionable.... May be selected as the most +desirable cheap edition of the immortal 'Papers' that has ever been offered +to the public."</p> + +<p><i>MANCHESTER EXAMINER.</i>—"These volumes have a unique +interest, for with each there is the story of its origin."</p> + +<p><i>QUEEN.</i>—"A specially pleasant and convenient form in which to +re-read Dickens."</p> + +<p><i>STAR.</i>—"This new 'Dickens Series,' with its reproductions of the +original illustrations, is a joy to the possessor."<!--Page 8--></p> + + + + +<h6 class="dgap"><i>Complete in Twenty-four Volumes. Crown 8vo, tastefully bound in +green cloth, gilt. Price 3s. 6d. each.</i></h6> + +<h6><i>In special cloth binding, flat backs, gilt tops. Supplied in Sets only of +24 volumes. Price £4 4s.</i></h6> + +<h6><i>Also an edition with all the 250 original etchings. In 24 volumes. +Crown 8vo, gilt tops. Price 6s. each.</i></h6> + +<h4>THE LARGE TYPE<br /> +BORDER EDITION OF THE</h4> +<h3>WAVERLEY NOVELS</h3> + +<h6>EDITED WITH</h6> +<h5><i>INTRODUCTORY ESSAYS AND NOTES</i></h5> +<h6>BY</h6> +<h4>ANDREW LANG</h4> +<h5>SUPPLEMENTING THOSE OF THE AUTHOR.</h5> + +<h6><i>With Two Hundred and Fifty New and Original Illustrations by +Eminent Artists.</i></h6> + + +<p>By the kind permission of the Hon. Mrs. <span class="smcap">Maxwell-Scott</span>, +of Abbotsford, the great-granddaughter of Sir <span class="smcap">Walter</span>, +the MSS. and other material at Abbotsford were examined by +Mr. <span class="smcap">Andrew Lang</span> during the preparation of his Introductory +Essays and Notes to the Series, so that the <span class="smcap">Border Edition</span> +may be said to contain all the results of the latest researches +as to the composition of the Waverley Novels.<!--Page 9--></p> + + +<h3 class="gap">The Border Waverley</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<ol> +<li><span class="smcap">Waverley.</span> With 12 Illustrations by Sir <span class="smcap">H. Raeburn</span>, +R.A., <span class="smcap">R. W. Macbeth</span>, A.R.A., <span class="smcap">John Pettie</span>, R.A., +<span class="smcap">H. Macbeth-Raeburn</span>, <span class="smcap">D. Herdman</span>, <span class="smcap">W. J. Leitch</span>, +<span class="smcap">Robert Herdman</span>, R.S.A., and <span class="smcap">J. Eckford Lauder</span>.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Guy Mannering.</span> With 10 Illustrations by <span class="smcap">J. +MacWhirter</span>, A.R.A., <span class="smcap">R. W. Macbeth</span>, A.R.A., <span class="smcap">C. O. +Murray</span>, <span class="smcap">Clark Stanton</span>, R.S.A., <span class="smcap">Gourlay Steell</span>, +R.S.A., <span class="smcap">F. S. Walker</span>, <span class="smcap">R. Herdman</span>, R.S.A., and <span class="smcap">J. B. +Macdonald</span>, A.R.S.A.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">The Antiquary.</span> With 10 Illustrations by <span class="smcap">J. +MacWhirter</span>, A.R.A., <span class="smcap">Sam Bough</span>, R.S.A., <span class="smcap">R. Herdman</span>, +R.S.A., <span class="smcap">W. M'Taggart</span>, A.R.S.A., <span class="smcap">J. B. Macdonald</span>, +A.R.S.A., and <span class="smcap">A. H. Tourrier</span>.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Rob Roy.</span> With 10 Illustrations by <span class="smcap">R. W. Macbeth</span>, +A.R.A., and <span class="smcap">Sam Bough</span>, R.S.A.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Old Mortality.</span> With 10 Illustrations by <span class="smcap">J. MacWhirter</span>, +A.R.A., <span class="smcap">R. Herdman</span>, R.S.A., <span class="smcap">Sam Bough</span>, +R.S.A., <span class="smcap">M. L. Gow</span>, <span class="smcap">D. Y. Cameron</span>, <span class="smcap">Lockhart Bogle</span>, +and <span class="smcap">Alfred Hartley</span>.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">The Heart of Midlothian.</span> With 10 Illustrations +by Sir <span class="smcap">J. E. Millais</span>, Bart., <span class="smcap">Hugh Cameron</span>, R.S.A., +<span class="smcap">Sam Bough</span>, R.S.A., <span class="smcap">R. Herdman</span>, R.S.A., and <span class="smcap">Wal. +Paget</span>.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">A Legend of Montrose</span> and <span class="smcap">The Black Dwarf</span>. +With 7 Illustrations by Sir <span class="smcap">George Reid</span>, P.R.S.A., +<span class="smcap">George Hay</span>, R.S.A., <span class="smcap">Horatio MacCulloch</span>, R.S.A., +<span class="smcap">W. E. Lockhart</span>, R.S.A., <span class="smcap">H. Macbeth-Raeburn</span>, and +<span class="smcap">T. Scott</span></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">The Bride of Lammermoor.</span> With 8 Illustrations +by Sir <span class="smcap">J. E. Millais</span>, Bart., <span class="smcap">John Smart</span>, R.S.A., <span class="smcap">Sam +Bough</span>, R.S.A., <span class="smcap">George Hay</span>, R.S.A., and <span class="smcap">H. Macbeth-Raeburn</span>.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Ivanhoe.</span> With 12 Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Ad. Lalauze</span>.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">The Monastery.</span> With 10 Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Gordon +Browne</span>.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">The Abbot.</span> With 10 Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Gordon +Browne</span>.<!--Page 10--></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Kenilworth.</span> With 12 Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Ad. +Lalauze</span>.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">The Pirate.</span> With 10 Illustrations by <span class="smcap">W. E. +Lockhart</span>, R.S.A., <span class="smcap">Sam Bough</span>, R.S.A., <span class="smcap">Herbert +Dicksee</span>, <span class="smcap">W. Strang</span>, <span class="smcap">Lockhart Bogle</span>, <span class="smcap">C. J. Holmes</span>, +and <span class="smcap">F. S. Walker</span>.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">The Fortunes of Nigel.</span> With 10 Illustrations +by <span class="smcap">John Pettie</span>, R.A., and <span class="smcap">R. W. Macbeth</span>, A.R.A.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Peveril of the Peak.</span> With 15 Illustrations by +<span class="smcap">W. Q. Orchardson</span>, R.A., <span class="smcap">John Pettie</span>, R.A., <span class="smcap">F. Dadd</span>, +R.I., <span class="smcap">Arthur Hopkins</span>, A.R.W.S., and <span class="smcap">S. L. Wood</span>.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Quentin Durward.</span> With 12 Illustrations by +<span class="smcap">Ad. Lalauze</span>.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">St. Ronan's Well.</span> With 10 Illustrations by Sir +<span class="smcap">G. Reid</span>, P.R.S.A., <span class="smcap">R. W. Macbeth</span>, A.R.A., <span class="smcap">W. Hole</span>, +R.S.A., and <span class="smcap">A. Forestier</span>.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Redgauntlet.</span> With 12 Illustrations by Sir <span class="smcap">James +D. Linton</span>, P.R.I., <span class="smcap">James Orrock</span>, R.I., <span class="smcap">Sam Bough</span>, +R.S.A., <span class="smcap">W. Hole</span>, R.S.A., <span class="smcap">G. Hay</span>, R.S.A., <span class="smcap">T. Scott</span>, +A.R.S.A., <span class="smcap">W. Boucher</span>, and <span class="smcap">Frank Short</span>.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">The Betrothed</span> and <span class="smcap">The Talisman</span>. With 10 +Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Herbert Dicksee</span>, <span class="smcap">Wal. Paget</span>, and +<span class="smcap">J. Le Blant</span>.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Woodstock.</span> With 10 Illustrations by <span class="smcap">W. Hole</span>, +R.S.A.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">The Fair Maid of Perth.</span> With 10 Illustrations +by Sir <span class="smcap">G. Reid</span>, P.R.S.A., <span class="smcap">John Pettie</span>, R.A., <span class="smcap">R. W. +Macbeth</span>, A.R.A., and <span class="smcap">Robert Herdman</span>, R.S.A.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Anne of Geierstein.</span> With 10 Illustrations by +<span class="smcap">R. de Los Rios</span>.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Count Robert of Paris</span> and <span class="smcap">The Surgeon's +Daughter</span>. With 10 Illustrations by <span class="smcap">W. Hatherell</span>, +R.I., and <span class="smcap">W. B. Wollen</span>, R.I.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Castle Dangerous, Chronicles of the Canongate, +etc.</span> With 10 Illustrations by <span class="smcap">H. Macbeth-Raeburn</span> +and <span class="smcap">G. D. Armour</span>.<!--Page 11--></li> +</ol> +</div> + +<h3 class="gap">The Border Waverley</h3> + +<h5>SOME OPINIONS OF THE PRESS</h5> + +<p><i>TIMES.</i>—"It would be difficult to find in these days a more competent +and sympathetic editor of Scott than his countryman, the brilliant +and versatile man of letters who has undertaken the task, and if any proof +were wanted either of his qualifications or of his skill and discretion in +displaying them, Mr. Lang has furnished it abundantly in his charming +Introduction to 'Waverley.' The editor's own notes are judiciously sparing, +but conspicuously to the point, and they are very discreetly separated from +those of the author, Mr. Lang's laudable purpose being to illustrate and +explain Scott, not to make the notes a pretext for displaying his own +critical faculty and literary erudition. The illustrations by various competent +hands are beautiful in themselves and beautifully executed, and, altogether, +the 'Border Edition' of the Waverley Novels bids fair to become the +classical edition of the great Scottish classic."</p> + +<p><i>SPECTATOR.</i>—"We trust that this fine edition of our greatest and +most poetical of novelists will attain, if it has not already done so, the high +popularity it deserves. To all Scott's lovers it is a pleasure to know that, +despite the daily and weekly inrush of ephemeral fiction, the sale of his +works is said by the booksellers to rank next below Tennyson's in poetry, +and above that of everybody else in prose."</p> + +<p><i>ATHENÆUM.</i>—"The handsome 'Border Edition' has been brought +to a successful conclusion. The publisher deserves to be complimented +on the manner in which the edition has been printed and illustrated, and +Mr. Lang on the way in which he has performed his portion of the work. +His introductions have been tasteful and readable; he has not overdone +his part; and, while he has supplied much useful information, he has by no +means overburdened the volumes with notes."</p> + +<p><i>NOTES AND QUERIES.</i>—"This spirited and ambitious enterprise +has been conducted to a safe termination, and the most ideal edition of the +Waverley Novels in existence is now completed."</p> + +<p><i>SATURDAY REVIEW.</i>—"Of all the many collections of the +Waverley Novels, the 'Border Edition' is incomparably the most handsome +and the most desirable.... Type, paper, illustrations, are altogether +admirable."</p> + +<p><i>MAGAZINE OF ART.</i>—"Size, type, paper, and printing, to say +nothing of the excessively liberal and charming introduction of the illustrations, +make this perhaps the most desirable edition of Scott ever issued on +this side of the Border."</p> + +<p><i>DAILY CHRONICLE.</i>—"There is absolutely no fault to be found +with it, as to paper, type, or arrangement."<!--Page 12--></p> + + + + +<h4 class="gap">THE WORKS OF</h4> +<h3>THOMAS HARDY</h3> + +<h5>Collected Edition</h5> + + +<div class="blockquot"> +<ol> +<li>TESS OF THE D'URBERVILLES.</li> + +<li>FAR FROM THE MADDING CROWD.</li> + +<li>THE MAYOR OF CASTERBRIDGE.</li> + +<li>A PAIR OF BLUE EYES.</li> + +<li>TWO ON A TOWER.</li> + +<li>THE RETURN OF THE NATIVE.</li> + +<li>THE WOODLANDERS.</li> + +<li>JUDE THE OBSCURE.</li> + +<li>THE TRUMPET-MAJOR.</li> + +<li>THE HAND OF ETHELBERTA.</li> + +<li>A LAODICEAN.</li> + +<li>DESPERATE REMEDIES.</li> + +<li>WESSEX TALES.</li> + +<li>LIFE'S LITTLE IRONIES.</li> + +<li>A GROUP OF NOBLE DAMES.</li> + +<li>UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE.</li> + +<li>THE WELL-BELOVED.</li> + +<li>WESSEX POEMS, and other Verses.</li> + +<li>POEMS OF THE PAST <span class="smcap">and</span> THE PRESENT.</li> + +<li>A CHANGED MAN, THE WAITING SUPPER, +and other Tales.<!--Page 13--></li> +</ol> +</div> + + + +<h4 class="gap">THE WORKS OF</h4> +<h3>CHARLES KINGSLEY</h3> + + +<div class="blockquot"> +<ul> +<li>WESTWARD HO!</li> + +<li>HYPATIA; or, New Foes with an old Face.</li> + +<li>TWO YEARS AGO.</li> + +<li>ALTON LOCKE, Tailor and Poet. An Autobiography.</li> + +<li>HEREWARD THE WAKE, "Last of the English."</li> + +<li>YEAST: A Problem.</li> + +<li>POEMS: including The Saint's Tragedy, Andromeda, Songs, +Ballads, etc.</li> + +<li>THE WATER-BABIES: A Fairy Tale for a Land-Baby. With +Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Linley Sambourne</span>.</li> + +<li>THE HEROES; or, Greek Fairy Tales for my Children. With +Illustrations by the Author.</li> + +<li>GLAUCUS; or, The Wonders of the Shore. With Illustrations.</li> + +<li>MADAM HOW AND LADY WHY; or, First Lessons in +Earth Lore for Children. With Illustrations.</li> + +<li>AT LAST. A Christmas in the West Indies. With Illustrations.</li> + +<li>THE HERMITS.</li> + +<li>HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ESSAYS.</li> + +<li>PLAYS AND PURITANS, and other Historical Essays.</li> + +<li>THE ROMAN AND THE TEUTON.</li> + +<li>PROSE IDYLLS, New and Old.</li> + +<li>SANITARY AND SOCIAL LECTURES AND ESSAYS.</li> + +<li>LITERARY AND GENERAL LECTURES AND ESSAYS.</li> + +<li>ALL SAINTS' DAY: and other Sermons.</li> + +<li>DISCIPLINE: and other Sermons.</li> + +<li>THE GOOD NEWS OF GOD. Sermons.</li> + +<li>GOSPEL OF THE PENTATEUCH.</li> + +<li>SERMONS FOR THE TIMES.</li> + +<li>VILLAGE SERMONS, AND TOWN AND COUNTRY +SERMONS.</li> + +<li>WESTMINSTER SERMONS.<!--Page 14--></li> +</ul> +</div> + + + +<h4 class="gap">THE NOVELS</h4> +<h5>OF</h5> +<h3>F. MARION CRAWFORD</h3> + + +<div class="blockquot"> +<ol> +<li>MR. ISAACS: A Tale of Modern India.</li> + +<li>DOCTOR CLAUDIUS: A True Story.</li> + +<li>A ROMAN SINGER.</li> + +<li>ZOROASTER.</li> + +<li>MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX.</li> + +<li>A TALE OF A LONELY PARISH.</li> + +<li>PAUL PATOFF.</li> + +<li>WITH THE IMMORTALS.</li> + +<li>GREIFENSTEIN.</li> + +<li>TAQUISARA: A Novel.</li> + +<li>A ROSE OF YESTERDAY.</li> + +<li>SANT' ILARIO.</li> + +<li>A CIGARETTE-MAKER'S ROMANCE.</li> + +<li>KHALED: A Tale of Arabia.</li> + +<li>THE THREE FATES.</li> + +<li>THE WITCH OF PRAGUE.</li> + +<li>MARION DARCHE: A Story without Comment.</li> + +<li>KATHARINE LAUDERDALE.<!--Page 15--></li> + +<li>THE CHILDREN OF THE KING.</li> + +<li>PIETRO GHISLERI.</li> + +<li>DON ORSINO.</li> + +<li>CASA BRACCIO.</li> + +<li>ADAM JOHNSTONE'S SON.</li> + +<li>THE RALSTONS.</li> + +<li>CORLEONE: A Tale of Sicily.</li> + +<li>VIA CRUCIS: A Romance of the Second Crusade.</li> + +<li>IN THE PALACE OF THE KING: A Love +Story of Old Madrid.</li> + +<li>CECILIA: A Story of Modern Rome.</li> + +<li>MARIETTA: A Maid of Venice.</li> + +<li>THE HEART OF ROME.</li> + +<li>SOPRANO: A Portrait.</li> + +<li>THE PRIMADONNA.</li> + +<li>THE DIVA'S RUBY.</li> + +<li>"WHOSOEVER SHALL OFFEND——"</li> + +<li>A LADY OF ROME.</li> + +<li>ARETHUSA.</li> + +<li>THE WHITE SISTER.</li> + +<li>STRADELLA: An Old Italian Love Tale.<!--Page 16--></li> +</ol> +</div> + + + +<h4>THE NOVELS</h4> +<h5>OF</h5> +<h3>ROLF BOLDREWOOD</h3> + + +<div class="blockquot"> +<ol> +<li>ROBBERY UNDER ARMS: A Story of Life +and Adventure in the Bush and in the Gold-fields +of Australia.</li> + +<li>A MODERN BUCCANEER.</li> + +<li>THE MINER'S RIGHT: A Tale of the Australian +Gold-fields.</li> + +<li>THE SQUATTER'S DREAM.</li> + +<li>A SYDNEY-SIDE SAXON.</li> + +<li>A COLONIAL REFORMER.</li> + +<li>NEVERMORE.</li> + +<li>PLAIN LIVING: A Bush Idyll.</li> + +<li>MY RUN HOME.</li> + +<li>THE CROOKED STICK; or, Pollie's Probation.</li> + +<li>OLD MELBOURNE MEMORIES.</li> + +<li>WAR TO THE KNIFE; or, Tangata Maori.</li> + +<li>BABES IN THE BUSH.</li> + +<li>IN BAD COMPANY, and other Stories.<!--Page 17--></li> +</ol> +</div> + + + +<h3 class="gap">By H. G. WELLS</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<ul> +<li>THE PLATTNER STORY: and others.</li> + +<li>TALES OF SPACE AND TIME.</li> + +<li>THE STOLEN BACILLUS: and other Incidents.</li> + +<li>THE INVISIBLE MAN. A Grotesque Romance.</li> + +<li>LOVE AND MR. LEWISHAM. A Story of a very +Young Couple.</li> + +<li>WHEN THE SLEEPER WAKES.</li> + +<li>THE FIRST MEN IN THE MOON.</li> + +<li>TWELVE STORIES AND A DREAM.</li> + +<li>THE FOOD OF THE GODS AND HOW IT CAME TO EARTH.</li> + +<li>KIPPS: The Story of a Simple Soul.</li> + +<li>IN THE DAYS OF THE COMET.</li> + +<li>TONO-BUNGAY.</li> +</ul> +</div> + + +<h3 class="gap">By A. E. W. MASON</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<ul> +<li>THE COURTSHIP OF MORRICE BUCKLER.</li> + +<li>THE PHILANDERERS.</li> + +<li>MIRANDA OF THE BALCONY.</li> +</ul> +</div> + + +<h3 class="gap">By EGERTON CASTLE</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<ul> +<li>"LA BELLA": and others.</li> + +<li>MARSHFIELD THE OBSERVER.</li> +</ul> +</div> + + +<h3 class="gap">By AGNES and EGERTON CASTLE</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<ul> +<li>THE BATH COMEDY.<!--Page 18--></li> +</ul> +</div> + + +<h4 class="gap">THE NOVELS OF</h4> +<h3>ROSA N. CAREY</h3> + + + +<p><i>WESTMINSTER GAZETTE.</i>—"A clever delineator of character, possessed of a +reserve of strength in a quiet, easy, flowing style, Miss Carey never fails to please a large +class of readers."</p> + +<p><i>STANDARD.</i>—"Miss Carey has the gift of writing naturally and simply, her pathos +is true and unforced, and her conversations are sprightly and sharp."</p> + +<p><i>LADY.</i>—"Miss Carey's novels are always welcome; they are out of the common run, +immaculately pure, and very high in tone."</p> + + +<h5><b>Nearly 800,000 of these works have been printed.</b></h5> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<ol> +<li>NELLIE'S MEMORIES. 58th Thousand.</li> + +<li>WEE WIFIE. 42nd Thousand.</li> + +<li>BARBARA HEATHCOTE'S TRIAL. 35th +Thousand.</li> + +<li>ROBERT ORD'S ATONEMENT. 30th Thousand.</li> + +<li>WOOED AND MARRIED. 40th Thousand.</li> + +<li>HERIOT'S CHOICE. 29th Thousand.</li> + +<li>QUEENIE'S WHIM. 34th Thousand.</li> + +<li>NOT LIKE OTHER GIRLS. 43rd Thousand.</li> + +<li>MARY ST JOHN. 27th Thousand.</li> + +<li>FOR LILIAS. 26th Thousand.</li> + +<li>UNCLE MAX. 36th Thousand.</li> + +<li>RUE WITH A DIFFERENCE. 24th Thousand.<!--Page 19--></li> + +<li>THE HIGHWAY OF FATE. 25th Thousand.</li> + +<li>ONLY THE GOVERNESS. 40th Thousand.</li> + +<li>LOVER OR FRIEND? 31st Thousand.</li> + +<li>BASIL LYNDHURST. 26th Thousand.</li> + +<li>SIR GODFREY'S GRAND-DAUGHTERS. +27th Thousand.</li> + +<li>THE OLD, OLD STORY. 30th Thousand.</li> + +<li>THE MISTRESS OF BRAE FARM. 32nd +Thousand.</li> + +<li>MRS. ROMNEY and "BUT MEN MUST +WORK." 14th Thousand.</li> + +<li>OTHER PEOPLE'S LIVES. 5th Thousand.</li> + +<li>HERB OF GRACE. 27th Thousand.</li> + +<li>A PASSAGE PERILOUS. 25th Thousand.</li> + +<li>AT THE MOORINGS. 21st Thousand.</li> + +<li>THE HOUSEHOLD OF PETER. 23rd Thousand.</li> + +<li>NO FRIEND LIKE A SISTER. 21st Thousand.</li> + +<li>THE ANGEL OF FORGIVENESS. 20th +Thousand.</li> + +<li>THE SUNNY SIDE OF THE HILL. 18th +Thousand.</li> + +<li>THE KEY OF THE UNKNOWN. 17th +Thousand.<!--Page 20--></li> +</ol> +</div> + + + +<h4 class="gap">THE NOVELS AND TALES OF</h4> +<h3>CHARLOTTE M. YONGE</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<ul> +<li>THE HEIR OF REDCLYFFE. With Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Kate +Greenaway</span>.</li> + +<li>HEARTSEASE; or, the Brother's Wife. New Edition. With +Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Kate Greenaway</span>.</li> + +<li>DYNEVOR TERRACE; or, the Clue of Life. With Illustrations +by <span class="smcap">Adrian Stokes</span>.</li> + +<li>THE DAISY CHAIN; or, Aspirations. A Family Chronicle. +With Illustrations by <span class="smcap">J. P. Atkinson</span>.</li> + +<li>THE TRIAL: More Links of the Daisy Chain. With Illustrations +by <span class="smcap">J. P. Atkinson</span>.</li> + +<li>THE PILLARS OF THE HOUSE; or, Under Wode, under +Rode. Two Vols. With Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Herbert Gandy</span>.</li> + +<li>THE YOUNG STEPMOTHER; or, a Chronicle of Mistakes. +With Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Marian Huxley</span>.</li> + +<li>THE CLEVER WOMAN OF THE FAMILY. With Illustrations +by <span class="smcap">Adrian Stokes</span>.</li> + +<li>THE THREE BRIDES. With Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Adrian Stokes</span>.</li> + +<li>MY YOUNG ALCIDES: A Faded Photograph. With Illustrations +by <span class="smcap">Adrian Stokes</span>.</li> + +<li>THE CAGED LION. With Illustrations by <span class="smcap">W. J. Hennessy</span>.</li> + +<li>THE DOVE IN THE EAGLE'S NEST. With Illustrations +by <span class="smcap">W. J. Hennessy</span>.</li> + +<li>THE CHAPLET OF PEARLS; or, the White and Black +Ribaumont. With Illustrations by <span class="smcap">W. J. Hennessy</span>.</li> + +<li>LADY HESTER; or, Ursula's Narrative; and THE DANVERS +PAPERS. With Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Jane E. Cook</span>.</li> + +<li>MAGNUM BONUM; or, Mother Carey's Brood. With Illustrations +by <span class="smcap">W. J. Hennessy</span>.</li> + +<li>LOVE AND LIFE: an Old Story in Eighteenth Century Costume. +With Illustrations by <span class="smcap">W. J. Hennessy</span>.</li> + +<li>UNKNOWN TO HISTORY. A Story of the Captivity of Mary +of Scotland. With Illustrations by <span class="smcap">W. J. Hennessy</span>.<!--Page 21--></li> + +<li>THE ARMOURER'S 'PRENTICES. With Illustrations by +<span class="smcap">W. J. Hennessy</span>.</li> + +<li>SCENES AND CHARACTERS; or, Eighteen Months at +Beechcroft. With Illustrations by <span class="smcap">W. J. Hennessy</span>.</li> + +<li>CHANTRY HOUSE. With Illustrations by <span class="smcap">W. J. Hennessy</span>.</li> + +<li>A MODERN TELEMACHUS. With Illustrations by <span class="smcap">W. J. +Hennessy</span>.</li> + +<li>BYWORDS. A collection of Tales new and old.</li> + +<li>BEECHCROFT AT ROCKSTONE.</li> + +<li>MORE BYWORDS.</li> + +<li>A REPUTED CHANGELING; or, Three Seventh Years Two +Centuries Ago.</li> + +<li>THE LITTLE DUKE, RICHARD THE FEARLESS. With +Illustrations.</li> + +<li>THE LANCES OF LYNWOOD. With Illustrations by <span class="smcap">J. B.</span></li> + +<li>THE PRINCE AND THE PAGE: A Story of the Last Crusade. +With Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Adrian Stokes</span>.</li> + +<li>TWO PENNILESS PRINCESSES. With Illustrations by +<span class="smcap">W. J. Hennessy</span>.</li> + +<li>THAT STICK.</li> + +<li>AN OLD WOMAN'S OUTLOOK IN A HAMPSHIRE +VILLAGE.</li> + +<li>GRISLY GRISELL; or, The Laidly Lady of Whitburn. A Tale +of the Wars of the Roses.</li> + +<li>HENRIETTA'S WISH. Second Edition.</li> + +<li>THE LONG VACATION.</li> + +<li>THE RELEASE; or, Caroline's French Kindred.</li> + +<li>THE PILGRIMAGE OF THE BEN BERIAH.</li> + +<li>THE TWO GUARDIANS; or, Home in this World. Second +Edition.</li> + +<li>COUNTESS KATE AND THE STOKESLEY SECRET.</li> + +<li>MODERN BROODS; or, Developments Unlooked for.</li> + +<li>STROLLING PLAYERS: A Harmony of Contrasts. By <span class="smcap">C. M. +Yonge</span> and <span class="smcap">C. R. Coleridge</span>.</li> + +<li>STRAY PEARLS. Memoirs of Margaret de Ribaumont, Viscountess +of Bellaise. With Illustrations by <span class="smcap">W. J. Hennessy</span>.<!--Page 22--></li> +</ul> +</div> + + + +<h3 class="gap">Works by Mrs. Craik</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<ul> +<li><b>Olive</b>: A Novel. With Illustrations by <span class="smcap">G. Bowers</span>.</li> + +<li><b>Agatha's Husband</b>: A Novel. With Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Walter Crane</span>.</li> + +<li><b>The Head of the Family</b>: A Novel. With Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Walter Crane</span>.</li> + +<li><b>Two Marriages.</b></li> + +<li><b>The Laurel Bush.</b></li> + +<li><b>King Arthur: Not a Love Story.</b></li> + +<li><b>About Money, and other Things.</b></li> + +<li><b>Concerning Men, and other Papers.</b></li> +</ul> +</div> + + +<h3 class="gap">Works by Mrs. Oliphant</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<ul> +<li><b>Neighbours on the Green.</b></li> + +<li><b>Kirsteen</b>: the Story of a Scotch Family Seventy Years Ago.</li> + +<li><b>A Beleaguered City</b>: A Story of the Seen and the Unseen.</li> + +<li><b>Hester</b>: a Story of Contemporary Life.</li> + +<li><b>He that Will Not when He May.</b></li> + +<li><b>The Railway Man and his Children.</b></li> + +<li><b>The Marriage of Elinor.</b></li> + +<li><b>Sir Tom.</b></li> + +<li><b>The Heir-Presumptive and the Heir-Apparent.</b></li> + +<li><b>A Country Gentleman and his Family.</b></li> + +<li><b>A Son of the Soil.</b></li> + +<li><b>The Second Son.</b></li> + +<li><b>The Wizard's Son</b>: A Novel.</li> + +<li><b>Lady William.</b></li> + +<li><b>Young Musgrave.</b><!--Page 23--></li> +</ul> +</div> + + + +<h3 class="gap">The Works of Dean Farrar</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<ul> +<li>SEEKERS AFTER GOD. The Lives of Seneca, Epictetus, and +Marcus Aurelius.</li> + +<li>ETERNAL HOPE. Sermons preached in Westminster Abbey.</li> + +<li>THE WITNESS OF HISTORY TO CHRIST.</li> + +<li>THE SILENCE AND VOICES OF GOD, with other Sermons.</li> + +<li>"IN THE DAYS OF THY YOUTH." Sermons on Practical +Subjects.</li> + +<li>SAINTLY WORKERS. Five Lenten Lectures.</li> + +<li>EPHPHATHA; or, the Amelioration of the World.</li> + +<li>MERCY AND JUDGMENT: a few last words on Christian +Eschatology.</li> + +<li>SERMONS & ADDRESSES DELIVERED IN AMERICA.</li> +</ul> +</div> + + + +<h4 class="gap">THE WORKS OF</h4> +<h3>Frederick Denison Maurice</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<ul> +<li>SERMONS PREACHED IN LINCOLN'S INN CHAPEL. +In five vols.</li> + +<li>SERMONS PREACHED IN COUNTRY CHURCHES.</li> + +<li>CHRISTMAS DAY: and other Sermons.</li> + +<li>THEOLOGICAL ESSAYS.</li> + +<li>THE PROPHETS <span class="smcap">and</span> KINGS <span class="smcap">of the</span> OLD TESTAMENT.</li> + +<li>THE PATRIARCHS AND LAWGIVERS OF THE OLD +TESTAMENT.</li> + +<li>THE GOSPEL OF ST. JOHN.</li> + +<li>THE EPISTLES OF ST. JOHN.</li> + +<li>THE FRIENDSHIP OF BOOKS: and other Lectures.</li> + +<li>THE PRAYER BOOK AND THE LORD'S PRAYER.</li> + +<li>THE DOCTRINE OF SACRIFICE. Deduced from the +Scriptures.</li> + +<li>THE ACTS OF THE APOSTLES.</li> + +<li>THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST; or, Hints to a Quaker respecting +the Principles, Constitution, and Ordinances of the +Catholic Church. 2 vols.<!--Page 24--></li> +</ul> +</div> + + +<h3 class="gap">By J. H. SHORTHOUSE</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<ul> +<li>JOHN INGLESANT: A Romance.</li> + +<li>SIR PERCIVAL: a Story of the Past and of the Present.</li> + +<li>THE LITTLE SCHOOLMASTER MARK.</li> + +<li>THE COUNTESS EVE.</li> + +<li>A TEACHER OF THE VIOLIN.</li> + +<li>BLANCHE, LADY FALAISE.</li> +</ul> +</div> + + + +<h3 class="gap">By GERTRUDE ATHERTON</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<ul> +<li>A DAUGHTER OF THE VINE.</li> + +<li>THE CALIFORNIANS.</li> +</ul> +</div> + + +<h3 class="gap">By HUGH CONWAY</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<ul> +<li>A FAMILY AFFAIR.</li> +</ul> +</div> + + +<h3 class="gap">By W. CLARK RUSSELL</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<ul> +<li>MAROONED.</li> +</ul> +</div> + + +<h3 class="gap">By ANNIE KEARY</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<ul> +<li>A YORK AND A LANCASTER ROSE.</li> + +<li>CASTLE DALY: the Story of an Irish Home thirty +years ago.</li> + +<li>JANET'S HOME.</li> + +<li>A DOUBTING HEART.</li> + +<li>THE NATIONS AROUND ISRAEL.</li> + +<li>OLDBURY.<!--Page 25--></li> +</ul> +</div> + + +<h3 class="gap">By GEORGE BORROW</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<ul> +<li>LAVENGRO.</li> +</ul> +</div> + + +<h3 class="gap">By THOMAS HUGHES</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<ul> +<li>TOM BROWN'S SCHOOLDAYS.</li> + +<li>TOM BROWN AT OXFORD.</li> + +<li>THE SCOURING OF THE WHITE HORSE.</li> + +<li>ALFRED THE GREAT.</li> +</ul> +</div> + + +<h3 class="gap">By ARCHIBALD FORBES</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<ul> +<li>BARRACKS, BIVOUACS, AND BATTLES.</li> +</ul> +</div> + + +<h3 class="gap">By MONTAGU WILLIAMS</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<ul> +<li>LEAVES OF A LIFE.</li> + +<li>ROUND LONDON.</li> +</ul> +</div> + + +<h3 class="gap">By E. WERNER</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<ul> +<li>FICKLE FORTUNE.</li> +</ul> +</div> + + +<h3 class="gap">By W. E. NORRIS</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<ul> +<li>THIRLBY HALL.</li> + +<li>A BACHELOR'S BLUNDER.</li> +</ul> +</div> + + +<h3 class="gap">The Works of SHAKESPEARE</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<ul> +<li>VICTORIA EDITION. In Three Volumes. +Vol. I. <span class="smcap">Comedies.</span> Vol. II. <span class="smcap">Histories.</span> Vol. III. <span class="smcap">Tragedies.</span><!--Page 26--></li> +</ul> +</div> + + + +<h4 class="gap">UNIFORM EDITION OF THE</h4> +<h3>NOVELS OF CHARLES LEVER</h3> + +<h5>With all the Original Illustrations.</h5> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<ol> +<li>HARRY LORREQUER. Illustrated by <span class="smcap">Phiz</span>.</li> + +<li>CHARLES O'MALLEY. Illustrated by <span class="smcap">Phiz</span>.</li> + +<li>JACK HINTON THE GUARDSMAN. Illustrated +by <span class="smcap">Phiz</span>.</li> + +<li>TOM BURKE OF OURS. Illustrated by <span class="smcap">Phiz</span>.</li> + +<li>ARTHUR O'LEARY. Illustrated by <span class="smcap">G. Cruikshank</span>.</li> + +<li>LORD KILGOBBIN. Illustrated by <span class="smcap">Luke Fildes</span>.</li> +</ol> +</div> + + +<h3 class="gap">By W. WARDE FOWLER</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<ul> +<li>A YEAR WITH THE BIRDS. Illustrated.</li> + +<li>TALES OF THE BIRDS. Illustrated.</li> + +<li>MORE TALES OF THE BIRDS. Illustrated.</li> + +<li>SUMMER STUDIES OF BIRDS AND BOOKS.</li> +</ul> +</div> + + +<h3 class="gap">By FRANK BUCKLAND</h3> + + +<div class="blockquot"> +<ul> +<li>CURIOSITIES OF NATURAL HISTORY. Illustrated. +In four volumes:</li> +<li> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><span class="smcap">First Series</span>—Rats, Serpents, Fishes, Frogs, Monkeys, etc.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Second Series</span>—Fossils, Bears, Wolves, Cats, Eagles, Hedgehogs, +Eels, Herrings, Whales.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Third Series</span>—Wild Ducks, Fishing, Lions, Tigers, Foxes, +Porpoises.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Fourth Series</span>—Giants, Mummies, Mermaids, Wonderful +People, Salmon, etc.<!--Page 27--></p> +</div> +</li> +</ul> +</div> + +<h3 class="gap">Works by Various Authors</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<ul> +<li>Hogan, M. P.</li> + +<li>Flitters, Tatters, and the Counsello</li> + +<li>The New Antigone</li> + +<li>Memories of Father Healy</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Canon ATKINSON.</span>—The Last of the Giant Killers</li> + +<li>—— Playhours and Half-Holidays; or, further Experiences +of Two Schoolboys</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Sir</span> S. BAKER.—True Tales for my Grandsons</li> + +<li>R. H. BARHAM.—The Ingoldsby Legends</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Rev.</span> R. H. D. BARHAM.—Life of Theodore Hook</li> + +<li>BLENNERHASSET <span class="smcap">and</span> SLEEMAN.—Adventures in Mashonaland</li> + +<li>LANOE FALCONER.—Cecilia de Noël</li> + +<li>W. FORBES-MITCHELL.—Reminiscences of the Great Mutiny</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Rev.</span> J. GILMORE.—Storm Warriors</li> + +<li>MARY LINSKILL.—Tales of the North Riding</li> + +<li>S. R. LYSAGHT.—The Marplot</li> + +<li>—— One of the Grenvilles</li> + +<li>M. M'LENNAN.—Muckle Jock, and other Stories</li> + +<li>G. MASSON.—A Compendious Dictionary of the French +Language</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Major</span> GAMBIER PARRY.—The Story of Dick</li> + +<li>E. C. PRICE.—In the Lion's Mouth</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Lord</span> REDESDALE.—Tales of Old Japan</li> + +<li>W. C. RHOADES.—John Trevennick</li> + +<li>MARCHESA THEODOLI.—Under Pressure</li> + +<li>ANTHONY TROLLOPE.—The Three Clerks</li> + +<li>CHARLES WHITEHEAD.—Richard Savage<!--Page 28--></li> +</ul> +</div> + + + +<h3>ENGLISH<br /> +MEN OF LETTERS</h3> + +<h5><span class="smcap">Edited by JOHN MORLEY.</span></h5> + +<h6><i>Arranged in 12 Volumes, each containing the Lives of three Authors.</i></h6> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<ul> +<li><b>Chaucer.</b> By Dr. <span class="smcap">A. W. Ward</span>. <b>Spenser.</b> By Dean +<span class="smcap">Church</span>. <b>Dryden.</b> By Prof. <span class="smcap">Saintsbury</span>.</li> + +<li><b>Milton.</b> By <span class="smcap">Mark Pattison</span>. <b>Goldsmith.</b> By <span class="smcap">W. Black</span>. +<b>Cowper.</b> By <span class="smcap">Goldwin Smith</span>.</li> + +<li><b>Byron.</b> By Professor <span class="smcap">Nichol</span>. <b>Shelley.</b> By <span class="smcap">J. A. Symonds</span>. +<b>Keats.</b> By <span class="smcap">Sidney Colvin</span>.</li> + +<li><b>Charles Lamb.</b> By Canon <span class="smcap">Ainger</span>. <b>Addison.</b> By <span class="smcap">W. J. +Courthope</span>. <b>Swift.</b> By Sir <span class="smcap">Leslie Stephen</span>, K.C.B.</li> + +<li><b>Scott.</b> By <span class="smcap">R. H. Hutton</span>. <b>Burns.</b> By Principal <span class="smcap">Shairp</span>. +<b>Coleridge.</b> By <span class="smcap">H. D. Traill</span>.</li> + +<li><b>Hume.</b> By Professor <span class="smcap">Huxley</span>, F.R.S. <b>Locke.</b> By <span class="smcap">Thos. +Fowler</span>. <b>Burke.</b> By <span class="smcap">John Morley</span>.</li> + +<li><b>Defoe.</b> By <span class="smcap">W. Minto</span>. <b>Sterne.</b> By <span class="smcap">H. D. Traill</span>. +<b>Hawthorne.</b> By <span class="smcap">Henry James</span>.</li> + +<li><b>Fielding.</b> By <span class="smcap">Austin Dobson</span>. <b>Thackeray.</b> By <span class="smcap">Anthony +Trollope</span>. <b>Dickens.</b> By Dr. <span class="smcap">A. W. Ward</span>.</li> + +<li><b>Gibbon.</b> By <span class="smcap">J. C. Morison</span>. <b>Carlyle.</b> By Professor +<span class="smcap">Nichol</span>. <b>Macaulay.</b> By <span class="smcap">J. C. Morison</span>.</li> + +<li><b>Sydney.</b> By <span class="smcap">J. A. Symonds</span>. <b>De Quincey.</b> By Prof. +<span class="smcap">Masson</span>. <b>Sheridan.</b> By Mrs. <span class="smcap">Oliphant</span>.</li> + +<li><b>Pope.</b> By Sir <span class="smcap">Leslie Stephen</span>, K.C.B. <b>Johnson.</b> By +Sir <span class="smcap">Leslie Stephen</span>, K.C.B. <b>Gray.</b> By <span class="smcap">Edmund Gosse</span>.</li> + +<li><b>Bacon.</b> By Dean <span class="smcap">Church</span>. <b>Bunyan.</b> By <span class="smcap">J. A. Froude</span>. +<b>Bentley.</b> By Sir <span class="smcap">Richard Jebb</span>.<!--Page 29--></li> +</ul> +</div> + + +<h3 class="gap">THE GLOBE LIBRARY</h3> + +<h5>Crown 8vo. <i>3s. 6d.</i> each.</h5> + +<h6><i>The volumes marked with an asterisk (*) are also issued in limp leather, +with full gilt back and gilt edges. 5s. net each.</i></h6> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<ul> +<li><b>*Boswell's Life of Johnson.</b> With an Introduction by +<span class="smcap">Mowbray Morris</span>.</li> + +<li><b>*Burns's Complete Works.</b> Edited from the best Printed +and MS. Authorities, with Memoir and Glossarial Index. By <span class="smcap">A. Smith</span>.</li> + +<li><b>*The Works of Geoffrey Chaucer.</b> Edited by <span class="smcap">Alfred +W. Pollard</span>, <span class="smcap">H. F. Heath</span>, <span class="smcap">M. H. Liddell</span>, and <span class="smcap">W. S. McCormick</span>.</li> + +<li><b>*Cowper's Poetical Works.</b> Edited, with Biographical +Introduction and Notes by <span class="smcap">W. Benham</span>, B.D.</li> + +<li><b>Robinson Crusoe.</b> Edited after the original Edition, with +a Biographical Introduction by <span class="smcap">Henry Kingsley</span>, F.R.G.S.</li> + +<li><b>*Dryden's Poetical Works.</b> Edited, with a Memoir, +Revised Texts, and Notes, by <span class="smcap">W. D. Christie</span>, M.A.</li> + +<li><b>*The Diary of John Evelyn.</b> With an Introduction and +Notes by <span class="smcap">Austin Dobson</span>, Hon. LL.D. Edin.</li> + +<li><b>Froissart's Chronicles.</b> Translated by Lord <span class="smcap">Berners</span>. +Edited by <span class="smcap">G. C. Macaulay</span>, M.A.</li> + +<li><b>*Goldsmith's Miscellaneous Works.</b> With Biographical +Introduction by Professor <span class="smcap">Masson</span>.</li> + +<li><b>The Iliad of Homer.</b> Done into English Prose by <span class="smcap">Andrew +Lang</span>, M.A., <span class="smcap">Walter Leaf</span>, Litt.D., and <span class="smcap">Ernest Myers</span>, M.A.</li> + +<li><b>Horace.</b> Rendered into English Prose, with Introduction, +Notes, etc. By <span class="smcap">J. Lonsdale</span>, M.A., and <span class="smcap">S. Lee</span>, M.A.</li> + +<li><b>*The Poetical Works of John Keats.</b> Edited, with +Introduction and Notes, by <span class="smcap">William T. Arnold</span>.</li> + +<li><b>Morte Darthur.</b> With Introduction, Notes, and Glossary +by Sir <span class="smcap">E. Strachey</span>.</li> + +<li><b>*Milton's Poetical Works.</b> Edited, with Introduction, +by Professor <span class="smcap">Masson</span>.</li> + +<li><b>The Diary of Samuel Pepys.</b> With an Introduction +and Notes by <span class="smcap">G. Gregory Smith</span>.</li> + +<li><b>*Pope's Poetical Works.</b> Edited, with Notes and Introductory +Memoir, by Sir <span class="smcap">A. W. Ward</span>.</li> + +<li><b>*Sir Walter Scott's Poetical Works.</b> Edited, with +Biographical and Critical Memoir, by Prof. <span class="smcap">F. T. Palgrave</span>. With +Introduction and Notes.</li> + +<li><b>*Shakespeare's Complete Works.</b> Edited by <span class="smcap">W. G. +Clark</span>, M.A., and <span class="smcap">W. Aldis Wright</span>, M.A. With Glossary.</li> + +<li><b>*Spenser's Complete Works.</b> Edited, with Glossary, +by <span class="smcap">R. Morris</span>, and a Memoir by <span class="smcap">J. W. Hales</span>, M.A.</li> + +<li><b>*Tennyson's Poetical Works.</b> [Also in extra cloth, gilt +edges. <i>4s. 6d.</i>]</li> + +<li><b>Virgil.</b> Rendered into English Prose, with Introductions, +Notes Analysis, and Index. By <span class="smcap">J. Lonsdale</span>, M.A., and <span class="smcap">S. Lee</span>, M.A.<!--Page 30--></li> +</ul> +</div> + + + +<h4>ILLUSTRATED</h4> +<h3>STANDARD NOVELS</h3> + +<h5>Crown 8vo. Cloth Elegant, gilt edges (Peacock Edition). +<i>3s. 6d.</i> each.</h5> + +<h5>Also issued in ornamental cloth binding. <i>2s. 6d.</i> each.</h5> + + +<h4>By JANE AUSTEN</h4> + +<h5><i>With Introductions by</i> <span class="smcap">Austin Dobson</span>, <i>and Illustrations by</i> +<span class="smcap">Hugh Thomson</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">C. E. Brock</span>.</h5> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<ul> +<li><span class="smcap">Pride and Prejudice.</span></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Sense and Sensibility.</span></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Emma.</span></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Mansfield Park.</span></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Northanger Abbey, and Persuasion.</span></li> +</ul> +</div> + +<h4>By J. FENIMORE COOPER</h4> + +<h5><i>With Illustrations by</i> <span class="smcap">C. E. Brock</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">H. M. Brock</span>.</h5> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<ul> +<li><span class="smcap">The Last of the Mohicans.</span> With a General Introduction by Mowbray Morris.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">The Deerslayer.</span></li> +<li><span class="smcap">The Pathfinder.</span></li> +<li><span class="smcap">The Pioneers.</span></li> +<li><span class="smcap">The Prairie.</span></li> +</ul> +</div> + + +<h4>By MARIA EDGEWORTH</h4> + +<h5><i>With Introductions by</i> <span class="smcap">Anne Thackeray Ritchie</span>, <i>and Illustrations +by</i> <span class="smcap">Chris Hammond</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Carl Schloesser</span>.</h5> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<ul> +<li><span class="smcap">Ormond.</span></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Castle Rackrent, and The Absentee.</span></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Popular Tales.</span></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Helen.</span></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Belinda.</span></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Parent's Assistant.</span></li> +</ul> +</div> + + +<h4>By CAPTAIN MARRYAT</h4> + +<h5><i>With Introductions by</i> <span class="smcap">David Hannay</span>, <i>and Illustrations by</i> +<span class="smcap">H. M. Brock</span>, <span class="smcap">J. Ayton Symington</span>, <span class="smcap">Fred Pegram</span>, <span class="smcap">F. H. +Townsend</span>, <span class="smcap">H. R. Millar</span>, <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">E. J. Sullivan</span>.</h5> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<ul> +<li><span class="smcap">Japhet in Search of a Father.</span></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Jacob Faithful.</span></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Peter Simple.</span><!--Page 31--></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Midshipman Easy.</span></li> +<li><span class="smcap">The King's Own.</span></li> +<li><span class="smcap">The Phantom Ship.</span></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Snarley-yow.</span></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Poor Jack.</span></li> +<li><span class="smcap">The Pirate, and The Three Cutters.</span></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Masterman Ready.</span></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Frank Mildmay.</span></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Newton Forster.</span></li> +</ul> +</div> + + +<h4>By THOMAS LOVE PEACOCK</h4> + +<h5><i>With Introductions by</i> <span class="smcap">George Saintsbury</span>, <i>and Illustrations +by</i> <span class="smcap">H. R. Millar</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">F. H. Townsend</span>.</h5> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<ul> +<li><span class="smcap">Headlong Hall, and Nightmare Abbey.</span></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Maid Marian, and Crotchet Castle.</span></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Gryll Grange.</span></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Melincourt.</span></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Misfortunes of Elphin and Rhododaphne.</span></li> +</ul> +</div> + + +<h4><i>BY VARIOUS AUTHORS</i></h4> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<ul> +<li><span class="smcap">Westward Ho!</span> By <span class="smcap">Charles Kingsley</span>. Illustrated +by C. E. Brock.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Handy Andy.</span> By <span class="smcap">Samuel Lover</span>. Illustrated by +H. M. Brock. With Introduction by Charles Whibley.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Annals of the Parish.</span> By <span class="smcap">John Galt</span>. Illustrated +By C. E. Brock. With Introduction by Alfred Ainger.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Sybil, or The Two Nations, Etc.</span> By <span class="smcap">Benjamin +Disraeli</span>. Illustrated by F. Pegram. With Introduction by +H. D. Traill.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Adventures of Hajji Baba of Ispahan.</span> By <span class="smcap">James +Morier</span>. Illustrated by H. R. Millar. With Introduction by +Lord Curzon.<!--Page 32--></li> +</ul> +</div> + + +<h3 class="gap">THE NEW CRANFORD SERIES</h3> + +<h5><i>Crown 8vo, Cloth Elegant, Gilt Edges, 3s. 6d. per volume.</i></h5> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<ul> +<li><b>Cranford.</b> By Mrs. <span class="smcap">Gaskell</span>. With Preface by Anne +Thackeray Ritchie and 100 Illustrations by Hugh Thomson.</li> + +<li><b>The Vicar of Wakefield.</b> With 182 Illustrations by +Hugh Thomson, and Preface by Austin Dobson.</li> + +<li><b>Our Village.</b> By <span class="smcap">Mary Russell Mitford</span>. Introduction +by Anne Thackeray Ritchie, and 100 Illustrations by Hugh Thomson.</li> + +<li><b>Gulliver's Travels.</b> With Introduction by Sir Henry +Craik, K.C.B., and 100 Illustrations by C. E. Brock.</li> + +<li><b>The Humorous Poems of Thomas Hood.</b> With +Preface by Alfred Ainger, and 130 Illustrations by C. E. Brock.</li> + +<li><b>Sheridan's The School for Scandal and The Rivals.</b> +Illustrated by E. J. Sullivan. With Introduction by A. Birrell.</li> + +<li><b>Household Stories.</b> By the Brothers <span class="smcap">Grimm</span>. Translated +by Lucy Crane. With Pictures by Walter Crane.</li> + +<li><b>Reynard the Fox.</b> Edited by <span class="smcap">J. Jacobs</span>. With Illustrations +by W. Frank Calderon.</li> + +<li><b>Coaching Days and Coaching Ways.</b> By <span class="smcap">W. Outram +Tristram</span>. With Illustrations by H. Railton and Hugh Thomson.</li> + +<li><b>Coridon's Song; and other Verses.</b> With Introduction by +Austin Dobson and Illustrations by Hugh Thomson.</li> + +<li><b>The Fables of Æsop.</b> Selected by <span class="smcap">Joseph Jacobs</span>. Illustrated +by R. Heighway.</li> + +<li><b>Old Christmas.</b> By <span class="smcap">Washington Irving</span>. With Illustrations +by R. Caldecott.</li> + +<li><b>Bracebridge Hall.</b> With Illustrations by <span class="smcap">R. Caldecott</span>.</li> + +<li><b>Rip Van Winkle and the Legend of Sleepy Hollow.</b> +With 50 Illustrations and a Preface by George H. Boughton, A.R.A.</li> + +<li><b>The Alhambra.</b> With Illustrations by J. Pennell and +Introduction by E. R. Pennell.</li> +</ul> +</div> + +<h5><span class="smcap">MACMILLAN & CO., Ltd., LONDON.</span></h5> + +<h6 class="bgap">J. 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