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diff --git a/43168-0.txt b/43168-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..46dbc45 --- /dev/null +++ b/43168-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,14376 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 43168 *** + +Hathercourt +By Mrs Molesworth +Published by Henry Holt and Company, New York. +This edition dated 1878. + +Hathercourt, by Mrs Molesworth. + +________________________________________________________________________ + +________________________________________________________________________ +HATHERCOURT, BY MRS MOLESWORTH. + +CHAPTER ONE. + +"TWOE SISTERS." + + "The haunted aisles, the gathering gloom, + By some stray shaft of eve made fair; + The stillness of the neighbouring air, + The faded legends of the tomb. + I loved them all..." + + _Songs of Two Worlds_. + +Hathercourt Church is not beautiful, though the internal evidence in +favour of its having at one time been so is considerable. It has +suffered sorely at the hands of plasterers and white-washers; yet the +utmost efforts of these misguided people have not altogether succeeded +in effacing the traces of a better state of things--there is still +grandeur in the sweep of the lofty roof, oak-raftered behind its dingy +white covering; still "meaning and mystery" in the quaintly varying +windows; much satisfaction for the learned in such matters, and indeed +for the unlearned too, in the unmistakable beauty of the carved screen, +the one object untampered with since the days when it gladdened the eyes +of the ancient men who fashioned it, long, long ago. + +A _very_ long "long ago" that time used to seem to Mary Western when, in +the intervals of her attention to the service, she sometimes dreamed of +those far-away days. She was not much given to dreaming, but in +Hathercourt Church there were circumstances under which the temptation +became irresistible. + +After a course of years the words of the morning service, especially +when read, Sunday after Sunday, by the same familiar voice with +precisely the same intonations, are apt to grow monotonous; and had Mary +not occasionally allowed her thoughts to go wool-gathering, the chances +are that her brown straw hat would have been seen to nod, and she might +have fallen asleep altogether. For that part of Sunday morning which +preceded their appearance in church was a tiring and trying ordeal to +the elder daughters of the Western household. There was the early class +at the school, there were "the boys" at home to keep peace among, there +were the very little children in the nursery to coax into unwonted +quiet, for on Sunday mornings "papa" really must not be disturbed, and +mamma, "poor mamma," looked to her girls to do their part in helping +her. + +Hathercourt Rectory offered in every particular a contrast to its +neighbour, the church. The one was old, very old, the other +comparatively new; the Rectory was full to overflowing of life and noise +and bustle, the church, even when its whole congregation was assembled, +seemed empty and bare and strangely silent. + +"It is thinking about all the people that used to be here--the air is +too full of their voices for outs to be heard much," Mary said to +herself sometimes, and her girlish eyes would see strange scenes, and +strange murmurs would sound in her ears. There was the leper window in +the chancel, which alone, she had been told, testified to a date not +more recent than that of the reign of King John. Mary's glance never +fell upon it without a shudder, as in imagination--imagination in this +case no doubt falling far short of reality--she saw huddled together the +crowd of accursed beings, old world Pariahs, gazing up with bleared yet +longing eyes at the priestly forms about to dispense the mystery to +them, doubtless with little meaning but that of a charm. Then there +were the tablets on the walls, many of them very old, telling in a few +simple words a whole life history, or in some cases that of an entire +family, whose members had either died out or left the neighbourhood so +long that these chronicles of death were all that remained to tell of +their ever having lived. + +There was one tablet in particular on which Mary, sitting in her own +corner of the wide bare pew, had for so many years, Sunday after Sunday, +allowed her eyes to rest that it had grown to seem to her a part of her +own life. The service would not have been the same to her without it; +her father, she almost fancied, could not have got through his morning's +work had the tablet been removed from its place, a little to the left of +the reading-desk. Mary knew its burden by heart as well as, or better +than, "the creed, the ten commandments, and the Lord's prayer," yet she +could no more help reading it afresh every time she came into church +than one can help counting the tantalising telegraph-wires, as they +slowly rise up, up, then down again, from the window of a +railway-carriage. + +Of a time far remote from railways and telegraphs told the old tablet in +Hathercourt Church. + +"Here lieth," so ran the inscription, headed in the first place by an +imposing coat-of-arms, the date 1597, and the initials M.B.--"Here lieth +the bodi of Mawde, the elder sister of the twoe dovghters of Arthur +Mayne, late of Southcotte, and the late wife of John Beverley of +Hathercourt, who departed this worlde the sixt day of November, 1597, +whiche John and Mawde had issve five soones and five dovghters, whiche +Mawde, the wife of the seid John Beverley, esqvier, and dovghter of the +seid Arthur Mayne, esqvier, was 37 yeres oolde at the time of her +deathe." + +Mary's meditations on "whiche Mawde" represented various stages in her +own history. Long ago, in the days of little girlhood, the era of brown +straw hats and tendency to nod, it was not Mawde herself, so much as the +great army of "soones and dovghters" she had left behind, on which her +imagination dwelt. They must have been quite tiny things, she +calculated, some of these Beverley boys and girls, when their mother +died. How they must have missed her! How, beyond words, terrible would +be _their_ plight, that of the nineteenth century Western children, that +is to say, in such a case! Mary trembled at the mere dream of such a +possibility. Poor little Beverley boys and girls! what had become of +them all? Had they grown up into good men and women, and married and +had children of their own, and died, and in their turn, perhaps, had +tablets put up about them in far-away churches? What a great many +stories might be told of all that had happened to poor Mawde's children +and children's children since that dreary "sixt of November" when they +were left motherless! + +But as time passed on, and Mary grew into womanhood, Mawde herself +engaged her sympathy. Thirty-seven when she died, that was not so +_very_ old. She must have been married young, probably, and had a busy +life of it. Was her husband kind and good, and did she love him and +look up to him? They could not have been poor, that was one comfort to +think of; life, even with the ten "soones and dovghters," could not have +been quite so hard upon John Beverley's wife as, Mary thought with a +little sigh, "mamma" found it sometimes. And then her fancy would +wander to the sister dimly alluded to in the inscription, the _younger_ +daughter of Arthur Mayne. What was her name, what had become of her, +and did she and Mawde love each other very much? Mary used to wonder, +as her glance strayed to _her_ sister at the other corner of the old +pew--her own especial sister, for somehow Alexa and Josephine, being +much the younger for one thing, never seemed _quite_ as much her sisters +as Lilias. How strange and sad that the record of affection should die, +and only the bare fact of the old relationships exist! Mary could +hardly picture to herself a tablet even three hundred years hence +bearing _her_ name, on which there should be no mention of Lilias too. + +The congregation at Hathercourt Church was never, under the most +favourable circumstances, those even of "weather permitting" to the +extent of cloudless skies and clean roads, anything but a scanty one. +And on rainy days, or very cold days, or very hot days, it was apt to +dwindle down to a depressing extent. Of an afternoon it was seldom +quite so poor, for, unlike the denizens of the manufacturing regions, +who would consider it very hard lines to have to hurry over their Sunday +hot joint for the sake of so-called evening service three or four hours +before its time, the agriculturalists, employers, and employed of +Meadshire and its neighbouring counties, much prefer the half-past two +o'clock service to any other. So, as a rule, Mr Western reserved his +_new_ sermon for the afternoon, contenting himself with choosing for the +morning one of the neatly tacked together manuscripts which for many +years had lain in a dusty pile in a corner of his study. Sometimes, +when they compared notes on the subject, Lilias and Mary agreed that +they preferred the old sermons to the new. + +"Papa must have been clever when he was young," Mary would observe, +thoughtfully. + +"He is clever _now_," Lilias would rejoin, with some little show of +indignation. + +"Yes--but--I suppose anxieties, and cares, and growing older, cloud it +over in a way," was the best solution Mary could arrive at as to why +greater things had not come of her father's talents. + +Perhaps the truth was that they were not very remarkable--not so +remarkable, certainly, as to have forced for themselves a way through +the adverse circumstances of being united to a somewhat easy-going, +kindly, and contented nature such as that of the Rector of Hathercourt, +whose worldly needs had never been pressing enough to force him to great +exertion, who loved the place he had lived in for a quarter of a +century, and was not hard upon his people, even though they were averse +to morning service, and now and then indulged in forty winks, even of an +afternoon. + +"We have got into each other's ways," he would say sometimes, with a +mixture of deprecation and self-congratulation, when, even to +Hathercourt, echoes of the strange noises beginning to be heard in the +ecclesiastical "great world" would find their way. "We understand each +other, and know each other's good points. I don't pretend to go along +with all these changes, though I am far from saying no good may come out +of them. But they are not in our way--they are not in our way; and, +after all, there is something in letting well alone. It is something to +feel, as I hope to do when I die, that at least I haven't left my people +_worse_ men and women than I found them--eh, Polly?" + +For on his second daughter's face there came sometimes a look her father +hardly understood--a look of questioning and consideration, of less +readiness to take things just as she found them, than altogether tallied +with his philosophy. Yet Mary was his favourite child. Lilias +disagreed with him openly in her sweet-tempered way, grumbling with a +sunny face at their monotonous and secluded life, and openly avowed her +determination to change it for a different one, should she ever get a +chance of doing so to advantage. + +"What _would_ you do with five old maids, papa?" she would say +sometimes. "Just fancy us all in a doleful row--the _five_ Miss +Westerns! In ten years hence even Francie will be grown up, remember." + +"Ten years may bring--indeed, are sure to bring many changes, Lily +dear," her mother would say--"some, perhaps, that it would take half the +heart out of us could we foresee." + +"Mamma is so sensible and reasonable always, I sometimes think she has +forgotten what it was to be a girl," said the elder to the younger +sister one October Sunday morning as they were crossing the pretty +little bit of inclosed meadow land which was all that separated the +church from the Rectory. + +"No," said Mary, "it isn't that; she knows and remembers quite well. It +is that she knows _too_ well, I fancy." + +"How do you mean, Polly? I'm stupid at understanding things, unless +people say them plainly. Stay a minute, we are in plenty of time-- +nobody is coming to church yet, and it is so nice here under the trees." +Lilias leaned against one of a beautiful cluster of horse-chestnuts +growing in the middle of the church paddock, and as she spoke looked up +through the already fast baring branches to the cold, grey, blue sky +overhead. "Dear me, how very quickly the leaves are falling this year!" +she said, "it was that stormy weather in September that shook them, and, +once they begin to fall, winter seems to come with a rush." + +Mary smiled, and her lips moved as if she was going to speak, but she +stopped and said nothing. + +"What were you going to say, Mary?" asked Lilias, whose eyes had idly +journeyed down from the sky to her sister's face. "Why did you stop?" + +"On second thoughts I thought it not worth saying," replied Mary, "but +I'll tell you if you like. It was only what you said about the leaves-- +it made me think that was what mother feels. _She_ knows how fast they +fall once they begin, and it makes her afraid for us in a way. _She_ +doesn't want to hurry us out into the storms; we have always been so +well sheltered." + +Lilias looked at her sister for a minute without speaking. "How +prettily you see things," she said, admiringly. "You think of things +that would never come into my head, yet people fancy you are the +practical and prosaic one of us all. I believe it is all because you +are called Mary." + +"But Mary was just _not_ the practical and prosaic one. You mean +Martha." + +"No; no, I don't. Marys nowadays are practical and prosaic, any way. I +don't mean to say that you are, except sometimes, perhaps. I think you +must be very like what mamma was at your age, but I fancy you are +cleverer and--" + +"And what?" + +"And wiser--at least, in some ways. You would not be satisfied to marry +just such a person as my father must have been; you would want some one +more energetic and stronger altogether." + +"Perhaps," said Mary. "But I do not think we need speculate about that +sort of thing for me, Lilias; there's plenty of time to think what sort +of a person I would marry, if ever I do, which very likely I won't." + +"Don't speak like Mrs Gamp, and please don't be so sensible, Mary. If +you only would be silly sometimes, you would be perfect--quite perfect," +said Lilias. + +Mary smiled. + +"But indeed," continued Lilias, "I am not at all sure that it _is_ +sensible to look at things as you do. If none of us marry, or do +anything for ourselves, it will come to be rather hard upon papa in a +few years." + +"But why suppose none of us will marry?" said Mary. "It is unlikely, to +say the least, that we shall _all_ be old maids." + +"I don't know that it is," replied Lilias, seriously. "I am +three-and-twenty, remember, and you not two years younger, and things go +on just the same year after year; we never make a new acquaintance or go +anywhere." + +"Except to the Brocklehurst ball," put in Mary. + +"Oh, that Brocklehurst ball," said Lilias, laughing. "Many and many a +time, when it comes round again, I have been tempted to give up going, +just that I might be able to say I had not been, when every one shakes +it at me reproachfully if ever I grumble. What good is the Brocklehurst +ball, Mary? It is so crowded, and the people come all in great parties; +we never get to know any one. I suppose our beauty is not of that +striking order to shine out through country made dresses, and crowds of +finer people! I enjoy it, of course--even dancing with Frank Bury is +better than not dancing at all." + +"Or with one of Mr Greville's curates," said Mary, mischievously. + +"Don't," said Lilias. "I cannot bear the subject. I told you some time +ago--and I shall always say so--the bane of our life has been curates. +Because papa is a poor clergyman, with lots of daughters, every one +seems to think there can be, and should be, nothing before us but +curates. It almost makes me dislike papa, to think he ever was one!" + +"Lilias," said Mary, suddenly, "we shall be late. The school-children +have gone in, and there are the Smithson girls coming up the lane, and +they are always late. Do come!" + +It felt chilly in church that morning. There was a decidedly autumn +"feel" in the air, and the ancient building always seemed ready to meet +winter, with its gloom and cold, more than half way. With corresponding +reluctance to admit warmth and sunshine, it shrank from the genial +spring-time--summer had to be undeniably summer before its presence +could be realised within the aged walls. And this morning the +congregation was even unusually small, which made the bareness and +chilliness more obtrusive. + +Mary was busy in a calculation as to how many years would have passed +since Mawde Beverley's death "come" the next "sixt of November," a date +fast approaching, for it was now late in October, when there fell on her +ears a sound--the mere shadow of a sound it seemed at first--which +almost made her think she was dreaming. Such a sound had _never_ before +been heard in Hathercourt Church on a Sunday morning; the sensation it +produced in her, as gradually it grew louder and clearer, and more +unmistakable, was so overpowering that she was positively afraid to look +up. Had she done so she would have expected to see the whole +congregation turning to the door in awestruck anticipation of some +portentous event. For the sound was that of carriage wheels--coming +nearer, nearer, till at last--yes, there could now be no mistake, they +stopped at the church gate. Then, after a little pause, came the +creaking of the heavy oaken door, opened cautiously--the intruders +evidently expecting themselves to be late comers--and seeming, as is the +manner of doors, on that account to make all the more noise. Again a +little hesitation, then the sound of footsteps, several footsteps, +coming along the aisle, the rustle of dresses, a faint, indescribable +stir in the air, the result, probably, of the heads of nearly all the +congregation present being turned in the direction of the persons +approaching. Mary's curiosity overcame her at last. She glanced up, +first at Lilias, whose eye she caught for an instant, an instant in +which it spoke volumes. + +"You _must_ look at what is coming up the aisle," it said, "it is worth +looking at. See how discreetly I manage to do so--my prayer-book a +little to one side. No one would guess I was not attending to the +service." + +But from where Mary sat so much diplomacy was hardly called for. +Another moment brought the new-comers full in her view, as they filed +in, one after the other, two ladies, then two gentlemen, to a pew some +little way in front. The first lady was middle-aged, if not elderly, +well-dressed and rather fat; the second was tall and thin, and seemingly +very young, well-dressed too, and--an accidental turn of her head +brought the face full in sight--yes, there was no doubt of it, very, +_very_ pretty. Pretty with the prettiness that is almost, but not +_quite_, beauty, that might, perhaps, grow to be such in a few years, +for just now she could not, thought Mary, be more than sixteen or +seventeen--the rounded cheek and white forehead, on which the dark, soft +hair lay so nestlingly, had no lines or suspicions of furrows such as +are seldom altogether escaped even at twenty; the nose, the mouth, the +lovely, happy-looking eyes, showing bright blue through the long black +lashes, all told of the very first spring-time of life; the poise of the +graceful little head on the shoulders, the flutter of unconcealed +interest with which she looked about her, put her extreme youth beyond a +doubt. + +"How pretty she is!" thought Mary. "How bright and sweet and happy she +looks!" + +And for a moment or two the girl personally so interested her that she +forgot to ask herself the question at which Lilias had long ago aimed, +"Who can she be?" or rather, "Who can they be?" + +For the "they" was made up by more interesting objects than the +well-dressed, rather fat lady at the top of the pew. The rest of the +"they" consisted of two gentlemen, who next fell under Mary's +investigation. Neither of them was old, yet one was decidedly older +than the other; both were good-looking, but one was better than +good-looking, he was undoubtedly handsome, and his expression was almost +as attractive in its way as that of the young girl beside him. Could +they be brother and sister? thought Mary to herself. There was no +striking likeness between them, certainly, but neither was there any +decided _unlikeness_, and she fancied there was something brother and +sister-like in the way they sat together, sharing a hymn-book when the +time came for the anthem's substitute, Hathercourt Church being supposed +to be "a place where they sing," though the way in which the singing was +performed was sometimes a matter of mortification to the Western girls, +considering the time and labour they bestowed on the "choir." It seemed +unusually bad to Mary to-day, listening, as she caught herself doing, +with "other people's ears;" and once, when she fancied that she detected +the ghost of a smile pass between the two young people on whom she was +bestowing so much attention, she felt her cheeks grow hot, and she +turned her eyes away from them with a little feeling of irritation. + +"I wish strangers would stay away, if they come to criticise," she said +to herself. + +Just then for the first time she caught distinct sight of the face of +the other gentleman, the elder of the two. It was grave and serious +enough to please her, surely! Too grave and serious by far, she +decided. It was like turning from sunshine into gloom to watch his +dark, quiet face after the two beside him. He looked older, a great +deal older, than his companions. + +"Thirty-three or four, at least," was the age with which many credited +him, but when she looked at his face again, she doubted the correctness +of her opinion. It was more grave than old, after all, and after all, +too, there was something rather nice about it. What fun it would be to +talk them all over with Lilias afterwards! What--Suddenly a little +pause in her father's voice startled her wandering thoughts back to the +present; the sermon was just coming to an end, and with considerable +compunction Mary confessed the truth to herself--she had not heard a +word of it! Certainly these strangers had a great deal to answer for. + +There was a little delay in the coming out of church. The Smithson +girls, and old Mrs Bedell, and even the school-children and the clerk +seemed to be stupefied by the presence of the unexpected visitors; they +all hung back and stared at the strangers, and at each other, as if they +did not know what to do, till at last Lilias Western, waxing impatient, +touched her mother with the end of her parasol, and leaning across +little Francie and Brooke, whispered something which resulted in the +rector's wife, contrary to the usual order of procedure, leading the way +down the aisle, followed by her goodly array of sons and daughters. +Thus encouraged, the rest of the congregation followed with a rush, and +when Lilias looked back from the door, there was no one to be seen in +the church but the two gentlemen and two ladies, gazing about them in +dignified desertion. + +"What a set of boors all the people make themselves look," exclaimed +Lilias, almost before the Rectory party was out of ear-shot of the other +members of the congregation. + +"Hush, Lilias, some of them will hear you," said her mother. "They +don't mean to be rude, poor people. You must remember how unaccustomed +they are to strangers." + +"Mamma," interrupted George, the second Western boy, hurrying +up--"mamma, who can those people be? They've come out of church, and +they're standing staring about as if they didn't know what to do. Where +can they be going to? Their carriage hasn't come back." + +Lilias's fair face flushed--a very small amount of excitement was enough +to deepen the soft pink colour of her cheeks at any time. + +"We should do something, mamma," she said, appealingly. "Shouldn't +Basil or George run back and ask them if they would like to wait at the +Rectory till their carriage comes? You, Basil, run back, do, and ask +them if they wouldn't like to come in and rest a little." (Basil was +much the best-looking of "the boys.") + +"Rest--rubbish!" he said, contemptuously. "Haven't they been resting in +church all this time? I'm not going with such a nonsensical message," +and he turned away. + +"George, you go, as Basil seems afraid of behaving like a gentleman," +said Mrs Western. + +But George, too, hesitated. + +"I wouldn't mind if it wasn't for those ladies. Mother, they are so +_awfully_ grand," he said, beseechingly. + +Lilias's face grew scarlet. + +"I will go myself, then," she exclaimed, and turning quickly, she had +gone some way across the grass before the others quite understood her +intention. Mrs Western looked distressed. + +"Lilias excites herself so," she said. + +"I'll ran after her, mother," said Mary, quickly, and in another moment +she was by her sister's side. Lilias was still flushed and breathless +to boot. + +"Did you ever know such ill-mannered, rude--" she was beginning, but +Mary interrupted her. + +"They are just _boys_," she said, philosophically. "But, Lilias, you +have put yourself quite into a fever. Let me go and speak to these +ladies--yes, do, I would rather--it is better for me than for you." + +"But why?" said Lilias, doubtfully, though visibly relaxing her speed. + +Mary laughed. + +"I can't say exactly, but somehow it's not dignified for you to go +hurrying back in that sort of way, and for me--well, I don't think it +matters." + +Lilias still hesitated. + +"It isn't that," she said; "I wouldn't have you do anything I would not +do myself, only--Mary, you will laugh at me--I do feel _so_ shabbily +dressed." + +Mary did not laugh. She looked at her sister with real sympathy and +concern. There are some of the trials of poverty whose stings are even +more acutely felt at three-and-twenty than at seventeen, and Mary pitied +Lilias where she might have laughed at Alexa. + +"Let me speak to them, then," she repeated. "Do, Lilias; I will hurry +on, and you may follow slowly and see how I comport myself," and Lilias +made no further objection. + +"How Lilias under-estimates herself," she thought. "Who, with eyes in +their heads, would think of her dress when they see her face?" + +She was close to the little group of strangers by this time. They were +standing just outside the porch, "staring about them," George had said-- +rather, it seemed to Mary, examining with some interest the outside +appearance of the ancient church. Three of them did not see her +approach, the two ladies and the handsome, fair-haired man were at a +little distance and looking the other way; only the elder of the two +gentlemen was standing so as to face her, and he appeared sublimely +unconscious of her errand having anything to do with himself or his +friends. He moved aside a little as she drew near, evidently with the +idea that she was going into the church again. Mary's heart beat a +little faster; this was by no means what she had bargained for, but +there was no retreat possible now. There was Lilias slowly advancing in +the background, her grey alpaca skirt trailing behind her on the grass +with all the elegance of silk or cashmere--somehow Lilias _never_ looked +shabbily dressed!--her very observant blue eyes doubtless taking in the +situation fully. Mary felt that the credit of the family was in her +hands; she must prove herself equal to the occasion. + +"I--I beg your pardon--excuse me," she began, but the gentleman did not +seem to understand that she was speaking to him; half mechanically he +raised his hat, under the impression that the young woman, or lady, he +had scarcely observed which, was about to pass by him into the porch, +when again she spoke, and this time more distinctly. "Excuse me," she +said again; "mamma--my mother, I mean--thinks perhaps the ladies will be +tired. Do you think they would like to come over to the Rectory and +rest a little?" + +CHAPTER TWO. + +WHO--WHENCE AND WHY? + + Joan.--"... she with the green kirtle too. Ah, but they are bravely + clad!" + + Isabel.--"And see, sister, he in the crimson doublet. Save me, but + they are a pretty pair!" + + Dame Winnifrith.--"Fie on ye, damsels! Call ye that a saying of your + prayers? Fie on ye!" + + Old Play. + +She had stopped just in front of him. This time her voice could not +fail to attract his attention, and with a slight start--for his thoughts +had been busied with matters far away from the present--he turned a +little and looked at her. This was what he saw: a girl with a face +still slightly tanned by last summer's sun--or was the brown tinge, +growing rosier on the cheeks, her normal complexion? afterwards he +thought of it, and could not decide--very bright, _very_ wavy +chestnut-coloured hair, ruffled a little about the temples, and growing +low on the forehead; pleasant, hearty eyes, looking up at him with +something of embarrassment, but more of amusement, eyes of no particular +colour, but good, nice eyes all the same--a girl whom it is difficult to +describe, but whose face, nevertheless, once learned, could not easily +be forgotten. There was something about it which softened the +seriousness of the man looking at her; his own face relaxed, and when he +spoke it was with a smile, which, beginning in the grave, dark eyes +before it journeyed down to the mouth, so transformed the whole face +that Mary mentally improved upon her former dictum; there was certainly +something not "rather" only, but "very nice" about the elder of the +strangers "when he smiled." Mary had yet to learn the rarity of these +pleasant gleams of sunshine. + +"I beg your pardon," he said--for notwithstanding that Mary's alpaca was +several degrees shabbier than her sister's and that her little white +bonnet was of the plainest "home-make," he felt not an instant's doubt +as to her being that which even in the narrowest conventional sense is +termed "a lady"--"I am so sorry. I had no idea you were speaking to me. +I shall tell my aunt and sister what you say; it is very kind of your-- +I beg your pardon again. I did not quite catch what you said." + +He had been on the point of turning to speak to his companions, but +stopped for a moment, looking at Mary inquiringly as he did so. + +"My message was from my mother, Mrs Western--I should have explained," +Mary replied. "I am--my father is the clergyman; we live at the Rectory +opposite." + +She bent her head in the direction of her home. The stranger's brow +cleared. + +"Of course," he said, "I understand. Thank you very much.--Alys," he +called, hastening a step or two in the direction of the two +ladies--"Alys, tell your aunt that this young lady has come to ask if +you would like to wait at the Rectory till the carriage comes." + +The girl caught the sound of her own name in a moment; she had quick +ears. + +"How kind of you--how very kind of you!" she exclaimed, running up to +where Mary still stood. "Laurence, please ask aunt to say yes. I +_would_ like to go across to the Rectory." She was close beside the +gentleman now. "Laurence," she continued, giving him a little pull to +make him listen to what she went on to say in a whisper, "I want to see +those girls, the clergyman's daughters; I noticed them coming out of +church. One is _so_ pretty. Ah, yes, there she is!" as she descried +Lilias standing a little way off. "Is that your sister?" she went on, +turning again to Mary. "Do you think she would mind if I went to speak +to her? I do so want to see her quite close--she is so very, very +pretty." + +The gentleman looked annoyed. + +"Alys," he was beginning, "you really should--" But at this juncture up +came the fair-haired man and the elderly lady, and from another +direction Lilias, her curiosity overpowering her misgivings, moved +slowly towards the group. Mary's position was growing a little +uncomfortable; she was glad to take refuge by her sister's side. Again +Mrs Western's message of hospitality was repeated, this time to the +elderly lady, whose name Mary thus discovered to be Winstanley; she, +too, was profuse in her expression of thanks. + +"So very kind of you," she said to Lilias, who, feeling extremely +conscious of her grey alpaca, replied by a bow of extra dignity. + +"I really do not know what we had best do," continued Miss Winstanley; +"the carriage should have been back by this time." + +"If you and Alys like to wait at the Rectory, Cheviott and I can walk on +to see if it is coming," said the fair-haired young man, speaking for +the first time. + +At the sound of his voice Lilias looked up, and an expression of +surprise crossed her face. + +"Captain Beverley!" she exclaimed, impulsively, instantly, however, +appearing to regret the avowal of recognition, for she grew scarlet and +glanced at Mary in real distress. "I am sure he will not know me +again," she was thinking. "What a horrid, stupid thing of me to have +done!--a man I only met once in my life, and that at a ball nearly two +years ago! What _will_ he think of me?" + +Mary felt perplexed. She could not understand her sister's +embarrassment, and was therefore unable to help her. But the +awkwardness lasted for a moment only. With a flush of evident +gratification, Captain Beverley stepped forward. + +"Miss West!" he said, eagerly. "I was almost sure it was you, but I +scarcely hoped you would remember me. I had no idea you lived at +Hathercourt. Is it your home?" + +"Yes," replied Lilias, though still with a shade of constraint in her +manner, "my father--our father," turning to Mary with a pretty sisterly +air, "Mr Western, is the rector." + +"Dear me, how curious I did not know it," said Captain Beverley. +"Cheviott," he continued, turning to his companion, "you remember our +meeting Miss West--Western, I mean--at the ball at Brocklehurst the year +before last?" + +Mr Cheviott bowed, somewhat stiffly, it seemed to Mary. + +"I fear you are mistaken, Arthur," he said, "I do not think I ever had +the honour of being introduced to Miss Western." + +"Arthur" looked annoyed, and as if he hardly knew what to do; Lilias's +face flushed again, and Miss Winstanley began talking to Mr Cheviott in +a hurried, fussy manner, with so palpably evident an anxiety to set +every one at ease that she only succeeded in making them all more +uncomfortable. Mary, animated by a sudden consciousness of antagonism +to Mr Cheviott, came quietly to the rescue. + +"I think, Lilias," she said to her sister, speaking distinctly, so that +they all heard her, "I think mamma will be wondering why we are so long. +If these ladies, Miss Winstanley and Miss--" + +"Cheviott," put in Captain Beverley, hastily. + +"Miss Cheviott, do not think it worth while to rest at the Rectory, +perhaps we had better not interrupt them any longer. Of course," she +went on, turning to Miss Winstanley with a smile that showed she meant +what she said, "if your carriage does not come soon, and we can do +anything to help you, we shall be very glad. One of the boys can go to +the village to see about it, if you like; we have no carriage, otherwise +I am sure--" + +"Thank you, thank you," interrupted Miss Winstanley, nervously glancing +at her silent nephew, and, without his permission, not daring to commit +herself to anything but generalities, "you are, really, so very kind, +but I think the carriage is sure to come soon. Don't you think so, +Laurence?" + +"It's here now," exclaimed Alys Cheviott, in a disappointed tone; "and +Laurence," she added, in a lower tone, but not low enough to prevent +Mary's hearing the words, "you are very, _very_ cross." + +Mary was quite inclined to agree with her, but, looking up at the +moment, she caught a smile on Mr Cheviott's face as he made some little +answer to his sister, a smile which so altered his expression that she +felt puzzled. "I don't like him," she said to herself, "he is haughty +and disagreeable, but still I fancy he could be nice if he liked." + +Another minute or two and the strangers were driven away--with smiles +and thanks from pretty Alys and her aunt, and bows of equal deference, +but differing in cordiality, from the two gentlemen. Lilias and Mary +walked slowly homewards across the grass, Lilias unusually silent. + +"Well, Lilias," said the younger sister, after waiting a little to see +if Lilias was not going to speak, "well, we have had quite an adventure +for once." + +"Yes," said Lilias, absently, "quite an adventure. But, oh, Mary," she +went on, with a sudden change of voice, "don't speak of it; I am _so_ +disgusted with myself." + +"What for?" said Mary. "I didn't understand. Was it about recognising +that gentleman, Captain Beverley, you called him, I think? And some one +called him Arthur--how curious!" she added to herself. + +"Yes," said Lilias, "it is about that. I met him two years ago, and +danced with him twice, I think. I thought he was very nice-looking and +danced well, but, _of course_, that was all I thought about him. I +think I must have told you about him at the time; it was the year you +did not go to the ball--Brooke was ill, don't you remember, with the +measles, and you were nursing him because you had had it--but I had +nearly forgotten him, and then seeing him so unexpectedly again his name +came into my head and I said it! It must have looked as if I had never +seen a gentleman before to have remembered him so distinctly--oh, I am +so ashamed of myself!" + +"I don't think you need to be. I think it was perfectly natural," said +Mary. + +"Oh, yes, in one way, I know it was. I am not really ashamed of +_myself_, I did nothing wrong. It is what those people must have +thought of me," said Lilias. + +"I wish you would not care what people think of you," answered Mary. +"What does it matter? We shall probably never see any of them again. +How pretty the girl was! By-the-bye, Captain Beverley's name is Arthur, +he may be a descendant of `Mawde' in the tablet, Lilias. Her name was +Beverley, and her father's `Arthur.' Very likely one of her sons would +be called after her father. I wonder if that has anything to do with +their coming here," she went on, growing more interested in Captain +Beverley than she had hitherto appeared. + +"How do you mean?" asked Lilias. + +"Why, supposing he is a great grandson, a great, great, great grandson-- +oh, more than that--there has been time for six or seven generations-- +supposing he is a descendant of Mawde's, he may have something to do +with this neighbourhood, and that may have brought him here." + +"We should have heard of him before this," objected Lilias. "Papa knows +every land-owner of any consequence in the country by name, and I never +heard of any one called Beverley." + +"Here is papa," said Mary, looking back just as Mr Western emerged from +the church, where he had been detained later than usual by some little +official discussion, "let us wait for him and ask him. Papa," she +continued, as her father came up to them, "do you know that one of those +gentlemen who came to church is called Beverley?" + +"And Mary is making up quite a romance about his being descended from +the old woman on the tablet," said Lilias, laughing, but yet not without +interest. "There are no people of the name hereabouts now?" + +"Beverley," repeated Mr Western, "how do you know that is his name?" + +The girls explained. + +"No, there are no gentle-people of that name hereabouts nowadays," said +Mr Western. "The old Hathercourt Beverleys have quite died out, +except, by-the-bye,--I was told the other day that old John Birley, who +died at Hathercourt Edge last year, was a lineal descendant of theirs." + +"That rough old farmer!" exclaimed Mary, her thoughts flying back to +"Mawde." + +"Yes, you remember him? It was Greville, I think, that was telling me +about it. The name `Birley' he said was only a corruption of Beverley. +The old man was very proud of his descent. He left the farm and what +money he had saved to a Mr Beverley, whom he believed to be of the same +family--no one in this neighbourhood. By-the-bye, that may be the young +man you are telling me about, Mary, which was he--the fair or the dark +one?" + +"The fair one," replied Mary, "the other was a Mr Cheviott." + +"Cheviott--ah, indeed," said Mr Western, with a tone of faintly +discernible satisfaction. "I fancy that must be Mr Cheviott of Romary. +You remember Romary, girls, that beautiful old place near Withenden. +We went there picnicking once, several years ago." + +"Yes, I remember," said Lilias, "but I thought the people living there +were called Romary, not Cheviott." + +"Well, this Mr Cheviott was a nephew or grandson--all the male Romarys +had died out, I suppose," said Mr Western. + +They were at the Rectory door by this time. An unmistakable odour of +roast mutton greeted them as it opened. + +"It must be dinner-time," said Lilias, going in. "Dear me," she added +to herself, as she slowly made her way up-stairs to the plainly +furnished but neat little bedroom that she shared with her sister, "dear +me, how nice it would be to be rich, and have nice pretty luncheons +instead of these terrible early dinners, so hot and fussy, and all the +children crowding round the table! Dear me--" + +But she took off her bonnet and shawl and went down with a cheerful face +to help in the distribution of the roast mutton, bright and merry and +very fair to look upon, as was her wont. + +Mary had waited a moment at the hall door with her father. They stood +looking out at the autumn landscape; there came a sudden gleam of +sunshine through the trees, lighting up the grass with a yellow +radiance, and lingering gently on the many-coloured stones of the +venerable church. + +"It's a nice old place, after all, child, is it not?" said Mr Western. + +"Yes, indeed, father," replied the girl. + +"I, for my part, am very content to think that I shall spend my life +here, and rest peacefully over there in the shadow of my old church, +when the time comes," continued the Rector; "but for you young people I +suppose it's different somehow," and he sighed a little. + +"How do you mean, father dear?" said Mary, softly, and she came closer +to him and slid her hand into his arm. "What makes you speak that way +to-day?" + +"I don't exactly know, my dear," he replied. "Possibly the sight of +those strangers in church set me considering things. I should like you +girls to have a few more--well, advantages I suppose they are in a +sense, after all--I should like to see Lilias and you as nicely dressed +as that pretty girl this morning, eh, Mary?" + +"Dear father?" said Mary, affectionately. "But we're very happy, papa. +I am, at least, and Lilias tries to be anyway. But I dare say it's +harder for her than for me--she _might_ get so very much admiration, and +all that sort of thing, you know." + +Mr Western smiled--there _were_ people in the world, he thought to +himself, who would see something to admire in the eager face beside him +too; but he said nothing, and just then the dinner-bell rang, and a +hurry of approaching footsteps told that to some at least of the Rectory +party it was not an unwelcome sound. Mary fled up-stairs, her father +followed the hungry flock into the dining-room. And the Sunday meal +that day was considerably enlivened by discussions about the mysterious +strangers. Who were they?--whence had they come, and wherefore?--and, +"Will they come again next Sunday?" said little Frances, a question +which her eldest sister very summarily answered in the negative. + +"They have given you all something to talk about, children, anyway," +said Mrs Western. + +"Yes," said Basil, who, on the strength of having left school three +months ago, considered himself a man of the world, "it's ridiculous how +people get excited about nothing at all, when they live such shut-up +lives. I bet you the whole neighbourhood's full of it. All the old +women will be discussing these unfortunate people over their tea-tables +at this very moment." + +"Not over their _tea_, Basil," said little Brooke. "They don't have tea +till four o'clock." + +CHAPTER THREE. + +THE COLOUR OF THE SPECTACLES. + + "Mais, il faut bien le reconnaitre, tout est relatif en ce monde, et + les choses nous affectent toujours dans la mesure de l'education que + nous avons recue et du milieu social ou nous avons ete eleves." + + Enault. + +Mrs Western's views of life differed considerably from those of her +husband--she had quite another stand-point. She was not ambitious, +nothing in her experience had ever tended to make her so, and though by +nature she was far less "easy-going" than the Rector, yet her thoughts +concerning the future of her children were not by any means so harassing +and dissatisfied as his. Had she seen anything to worry about, she +_would_ have worried about it, but she did not see that there was. Her +boys and girls were infinitely better off, better cared for, better +educated than she had been, and happier far than she ever remembered +herself before her marriage, and she saw no reason why, if they turned +out good and sensible, as they mostly promised to do, they should not +all get on fairly well in life, without feeling that their start in the +great race had been weighted with undue disadvantages. + +Yet the Rector's wife was not a _peculiarly_ reasonable woman; +circumstances mainly had made her appear so, or rather, perhaps, had +never called forth the latent _unreasonableness_ which we are told, by +authority we dare not question, is a part of every feminine character. +When she married Mr Western, she was only a governess in a family where +she was not unkindly treated, but where no special thought was bestowed +upon her. She was not discontented, however; for the kindness she +received she was sincerely grateful, and considered herself, on the +whole, a fortunate girl. She was not remarkably pretty, but pleasing +and gentle, and with a certain sedateness of air and manner not without +a charm of its own. People spoke of her, when they did speak of her, +which was not often, as "a very sensible girl;" in point of fact, she +was more than sensible; she had both intellect and originality, neither +of which was ever fully developed--in one sense, indeed, hardly +developed at all. For her youth had been a depressing one; from her +earliest years she had been familiar with poverty and privation, and she +only was not altogether crushed by them because personally she had had +experience of nothing else. + +Her father had been one of the several younger sons of a rich and +well-born man. But neither the riches nor the good birth had helped him +on in life. He quarrelled with his parents by refusing to enter the +profession designed for him; he made bad worse by a hasty and imprudent +marriage; he hopelessly widened the breach by choosing to resent on his +own people his young wife's speedy death, and declining to accept any +help in the bringing up of his motherless little daughter. And then his +old parents died, and the brothers and sisters, married and scattered, +and absorbed in their individual interests, learned to forget, or to +remember but with a sore reproach worse than forgetting, this +hot-headed, ungrateful "Basil," who had not condoned by success in his +self-sought career the follies of his youth. And before many more years +had passed, poor Basil Brooke died himself, nursed, and comforted, and +sorrowed for by but one little solitary being, his thirteen-years-old +Margaret, for whom at the last he had managed to scrape, together a tiny +sum that left her not absolutely destitute, but was enough to pay for +her schooling till, at eighteen, she went out into the world on her own +small account as one of the vast army of half-educated girls who call +themselves governesses. + +But if Margaret Brooke's pupils obtained no very great amount of +so-called "book-learning" from their young teacher, at least they +learned no harm, and indirectly no small amount of good. For she +herself was good--good, and true, and healthy-minded, perfectly free +from self-consciousness, or morbid repining after what had not fallen to +her lot. Once in her governess life she came across some members of her +dead father's family. Being really gentlefolks, though self-absorbed +and narrow-minded, it did not occur to them to ignore their poor +relations. They even went out of their way to show her some little +kindness, which the girl accepted pleasantly and without bitterness; +for, young as she was at the time of her father's death, she had yet +been able to discern that the family estrangement had been mainly, if +not altogether, of his own causing. So the rich Brookes spoke +favourably of poor Margaret, and though it was taken for granted among +them that the fact of her existence was a mistake, she was, on the +whole, regarded with approval as doing her part towards making the best +of an unfortunate business. And when, two or three years later, +Margaret, to her own inexpressible astonishment, found herself actually +fallen in love with by the most charming and unexceptionable of young +curates, a curate too with every prospect of before long becoming a +rector, and when this prospect was ere long fulfilled, and Margaret, in +consequence, became Mrs Western, her Brooke cousins approved of her +still more highly, to the extent even of sending her a tea-pot, +cream-jug, and sugar-basin of the best electro-plate as a wedding +present. + +But all that was now nearly a quarter of a century ago--the generation +of Brookes who had seen Margaret in her youth, who had some of them been +contemporaries of her father, had mostly died out--they were not a +long-lived race--and the old relationship had grown to seem more of a +legend than a fact. A legend, however, which, little as the young +Westerns knew of the far-off cousins who now represented their mother's +people, was not likely to be allowed by them to sink into oblivion. +They were too well-bred and right-minded to be ashamed of their mother's +position when their father wooed and won her, but, nevertheless, half +unconsciously to themselves, perhaps, the knowledge of this fact made it +all the more agreeable to be able to say to each other, with dignity and +satisfaction, "Though mamma was poor when she was a girl, her family was +quite as good, if not, indeed, better than papa's." + +And "papa" himself was the first always, on the rare occasions when such +subjects came under discussion, to remind his girls and boys of the +fact, but Mrs Western herself thought little about it. She lived in +the present, even her lookings forward to the future were but a sort of +transference of her own life and experience to others. She hoped that +her daughters, if they married at all, would marry as happily as she had +done, and beyond this she was not ambitious for them, and +conscientiously tried to check Lilias's good-tempered murmurings at the +monotony of their life by platitudes, in which she herself so entirely +believed that they sometimes carried with them a certain weight. + +Mrs Western was less interested than the rest of the Rectory party in +the mysterious strangers who had so disturbed the Hathercourt devotions +this Sunday morning. She did not like strangers; she had a vague fear +of them--not from shyness, but from a sort of apprehensiveness which her +early life, probably, had caused to become chronic with her. When +Lilias snubbed little Frances's inquiry as to whether these ladies and +gentlemen would come to church again next Sunday, in her heart the +mother hoped the elder sister's "no, of course not," would be justified +by the event, and, secretly, she chafed at the talk that went on round +the table, talk in which even Mr Western was interested, as she could +see. + +"You remember Romary, Margaret?" he said, across the table, "that +splendid place near Withenden?" + +"Yes, I remember it," replied Mrs Western, "but I don't like splendid +places," she added, with a little smile. + +"Nor splendid people?" said Lilias, half mischievously. "Isn't mother +funny--odd I mean, in some ways--difficult to understand?" she said +afterwards to Mary, "she seems so afraid of our ever going the least out +of the jog-trot, stupid way." + +"She is over-anxious, perhaps," said Mary. + +"No, I don't think it is that exactly," said Lilias. "I think papa is +the more anxious of the two. I sometimes wish mamma were a little more, +not anxious exactly--I don't know what to call it--a _little_ more +worldly, perhaps." Mary laughed. + +"You would have liked her to invite those fine people to luncheon last +Sunday, and then, perhaps, they would have taken a fancy to us, and +invited us to go to see them?" she said, inquiringly. + +"Nonsense, Mary! Do leave off talking about those people. I am tired +to death hearing about them," replied Lilias, impatiently. "Invite them +to luncheon--to roast mutton and rice pudding, and a dozen children +round the table!--Mary, I wish you wouldn't say such silly things." + +"You are difficult to please, Lilias. Only the other day you told me, +if I would be silly sometimes I should be almost perfect," said Mary, +dryly. + +And then Lilias kissed her, and called herself "cross," and there was +peace again. But somehow, after this, the subject of the strangers was +scarcely alluded to. + +And "next Sunday" came and went, and if Mary descried some little +attempt at extra self-adornment on Lilias's part, she was wise enough +not to take notice of it; and if Mr Western preached his new sermon in +the morning instead of the afternoon, I question if any one discovered +the fact. For, with these possible exceptions, the day was not a marked +one in any way, and with a little sigh, and a smile too at her own +folly, Lilias decided, as she fell asleep, that as yet there was little +prospect of a turning-point in her life being at hand. + +The week that followed this uneventful Sunday was a date to be +remembered, and that had been tremulously anticipated by one heart, at +least, among those of the Rectory party. It was to see the eldest son +started on his career in life, and calm enough though she kept herself +to outward appearance, to the mother this parting was a painful crisis. +Her "boy Basil" was leaving her forever, for "boy" she could not expect +him to return. He was going up to town for a few months in the first +place, having been lucky enough to obtain a junior clerkship in a great +mercantile firm, with a prospect--the few months over--of being +transferred to the branch house abroad, where his chances of success, +said the authorities, "if he behaved himself," were pretty certain in +the long run, though not, in the mean time, bewilderingly brilliant. He +was a good sort of a boy in his way, and family affection among the +Westerns was fairly and steadily developed; but nevertheless, with the +exception of his mother, none of the household lost a night's rest on +account of his approaching departure, and Lilias openly avowed her +conviction that Basil was greatly to be envied, and that it would be far +pleasanter for him to pay home visits now and then, when he knew +something of the world, and could make himself entertaining, than to +have a great hulking hobbledehoy always hanging about, and getting into +mischief. Mary, too, agreed that "it was a very good thing for Basil," +and nobody cried when he said good-bye except poor Francie, whose seven +years were innocent of philosophy or common sense, and who only realised +that her big brother was going "far, far away." + +But still, when he was fairly gone, there fell over them all a certain +depression--a sort of blank and flatness, which every one was conscious +of, though no one would own it to another. It was a dull afternoon, +too, threatening to rain, if not actually doing so, and, to suit Basil's +convenience, they had had dinner at half-past twelve, a whole hour +earlier than usual, so that by four o'clock Lilias declared she felt +ready to go to bed. + +"You are suffering from suppressed excitement, after all, I suspect," +said Mary, looking up from Alexa's German translation, which she was +correcting. "There is a sort of excitement in thinking poor Basil is +really started, though we are glad of it." + +"I am not excited; I wish I were," said Lilias, listlessly. "I am only +idle and stupid!" + +"Get something to do then," replied Mary. "There, I have finished the +school-room affairs for to-day. I wonder if mamma has anything she +would like us to do--I can't ask her; she is up in her own room, and I +don't like to disturb her yet. It is too dull to go out. Supposing we +practice that duet, Lilias?" + +"Supposing in the first place we make this room tidy," said Lilias, +looking round her reflectively. "Supposing now, Mary--just _supposing_ +any one were to come to call, what would they think of this room?" + +"They wouldn't think ill of the poor room," answered Mary, laughing, and +setting to work energetically as she spoke to "tidy up;" "they would +probably reserve their thoughts for the careless people who lived in it. +There now, that looks better; let us poke up the fire a little, and +draw the sofa near it for poor mother when she comes down, and I'll tell +you what--I've got a thought, Lilias. Supposing we make the children +have tea by themselves in the dining-room for once, and we have it in +here for mother on a little table?" + +"Yes, do," said Lilias, heartily; "it would be quite a treat for her." + +"And I know the children will be good," said Mary; "they understand that +mother is dull about Basil's going. We are to have a light supper at +eight, you know, as papa will be back by then, so we can have tea +earlier than usual." + +"If there is any meal I dislike more than an early dinner," said Lilias, +as she stood on the hearth-rug surveying the room, which, thanks to her +own and her sister's efforts, now looked neat and comfortable, "it is `a +light supper.' The room doesn't look so bad now, Mary; somebody may +come to call if he or she likes." + +It was really a pretty room; it was prettily shaped, and the look-out +upon the old church through a long, rather narrow window at one end, +evidently purposely designed, was striking and picturesque. Pretty and +graceful, too, was the wide, low bow-window at the other end with a +cushioned seat running all round, and in summer a pleasant view of the +best kept bit of the Rectory garden. Even now in late autumn there was +a bright, fresh look about the room, notwithstanding the extreme +simplicity of the furniture and its unmistakable evidences of age; and +when Mary had stirred up the fire into a brisk little blaze, and with +her own hands arranged the tea-things on a small table beside the sofa, +she felt very fairly satisfied with the aspect of the whole. + +"Won't mamma be pleased, Lilias, when she comes down?" she exclaimed. +"I have made the tea; it's all ready. Will you go up-stairs and ask her +to come down, or shall I?" + +"You deserve to go; it was your idea," Lilias was beginning, when an +unexpected sound made her suddenly stop short "Mary," she exclaimed, +"that's the front door bell! What a bother--just as we have got all so +comfortable for mamma! It must be old Miss Bury--nobody else would come +to call on such a day; it seems like a judgment upon me for joking about +visitors." + +"We can't help it," said Mary. "I only hope Ann will hear the bell and +answer it quickly. She is sometimes so slow, and Miss Bury doesn't like +to be kept waiting." + +"There she is," exclaimed Lilias, as the sound of feet crossing the hall +was heard. "Who can it be, Mary? It doesn't seem like Miss Bury's +voice." + +"Some one for papa, perhaps," replied Mary; but almost as she spoke the +door was thrown open, and Ann, muttering something too indistinct to be +understood, ushered a gentleman into the quickly gathering darkness of +the room. + +He came in quietly, evidently not expecting to find any one in the room, +for in fact he believed himself to be entering Mr Western's study, +there to await the result of Ann's inquiries as to the hour at which her +master was expected home. Nevertheless, in one respect he had the +advantage of the two girls, for the hall whence he emerged was even +darker than the drawing-room, whereas the sisters, standing together on +the hearth-rug in the full light of the newly-stirred fire, were by him +at once and easily recognised. + +"I am afraid I am disturbing you--I must really apologise," he began, +his face, had they been able to see it, lighting up with pleasure as he +spoke. "I only asked for Mr Western, and I am sorry--" he hesitated. + +"Papa is out," said Mary, though quite in the dark physically and +mentally as to whom she was addressing; "but if it is anything we can +tell him--" she turned to her sister, surprised at her silence, but her +appeal was disregarded--"if it is anything we can tell him--or--or would +you like to see mamma? Won't you sit down, and I will get a light?" she +went on, without giving him time to answer. + +"Thank you," said the gentleman, coming forward a little; "but I am +really ashamed--" he was repeating, with increased hesitation, when Mary +again interrupted him. + +"It is Captain Beverley," she exclaimed. "I had not the least idea who +you were, for I did not recognise your voice. Lilias," she continued, +turning to her sister, this time so pointedly that Miss Western was +obliged to come to her assistance, "you generally recognise voices more +quickly than I do--did you not know that it was Captain Beverley?" + +"You give me credit for greater acuteness than I possess, Mary," said +Lilias calmly, bowing with dignified ease to the intruder; "it is not +easy to recognise a voice one has not heard more than once or twice. +But if you will come nearer the fire, Captain Beverley, we shall feel +less mystified; and, Mary, do ring for lights." + +The calmness, and the dignity, and the ease were all lost upon the young +man, and Lilias, had she been able to read his thoughts, would have been +saved a good deal of constraint. He was only thinking how very pretty, +how beautiful she was--this tall, fair, lily-like girl, as she stood in +the firelight, her face and bright hair thrown into strong relief by the +dusk of the rest of the room; and had she allowed herself simply at once +to acknowledge her recognition, he would have been conscious of nothing +but honest gratification. As it was, he really did feel awkward and +uncomfortable; it seemed to him he had intruded without proper +justification, and somehow this disagreeable sensation was increased by +all he saw about him. It was not in the least what he had expected; the +pretty, graceful-looking room, whose deficiencies the friendly gloom +concealed, and whose best points were shown to advantage by the +flickering, dancing light, the little tea-table so neatly set out, and +the two girls themselves--the one with the bearing of a princess, and +the other with a sort of straightforward unconsciousness worth all the +"manners" ever taught or talked about--it was not in the least what he +had expected, and he felt that he had been guilty of gross presumption +in thus making his way into Mrs Western's drawing-room. Once he had +seen Lilias before, and admired her more than he had ever admired any +one in his life, and when he had suddenly decided that, for the local +information he was in quest of, there was no one to whom he could so +fitly apply as to the Rector of Hathercourt, he had been conscious in +the very bottom of his heart that, if he went over to see Mr Western, +there would be a chance of seeing his daughter too. But he had not +fancied he would see her in this sort of way--so he felt all his former +ideas confused and unsettled. + +Still it was very pleasant to find himself in the Rectory drawing-room; +the outside chill and dreariness made the cheerful indoors all the more +attractive, and, though feeling by no means sure that he had any +business to be where he was, he had not the strength of mind to tear +himself away, to get up from his low chair by the fire and the prospect +of a cup of tea, and, with a proper amount of apology for his intrusion, +to leave a message with the girls for their father and set off on his +solitary, uncomfortable walk back again to Hathercourt Edge. So he sat +still, and by thus doing, little though he knew it, passed the Rubicon. + +Mary had disappeared, to return in a minute with a lighted lamp which +she placed on a little table, her way of obeying her sister's injunction +to "ring for lights." Then she stopped for a moment, hesitating, and +Captain Beverley half rose from his chair. + +"Shall I tell mamma tea is ready, Lilias?" she said, "and that Captain +Beverley is here?" + +"Yes, please do," replied her sister, graciously. "My mother is not +very well to-day," she continued, turning to the young man, and almost +for the first time directly addressing him, "at least, she has been +rather upset by my brother's going away, but I have no doubt she will +come down, if you would like to see her." + +"Thank you," said Captain Beverley, growing uncomfortable again, and yet +feeling increasingly reluctant to take his departure. "I should be very +sorry to disturb Mrs Western, but if she is coming down in any case," +he glanced at the tea-table, "perhaps--I should like to explain to her +what I wanted to see Mr Western about.--I should like you to understand +that I did not mean to come forcing my way here without a proper +reason," was the real thought in his mind, and somehow Lilias +instinctively half divined it, and her dignity abated a little. + +"Mary, please go and ask mamma to come down, if she can," she said to +her sister, and Mary went off on her errand. + +"I have been leading a very lonely life the last few days," said Captain +Beverley, when he found that Miss Western was in no hurry to start a +subject of conversation. + +"Indeed," said Lilias. + +"Yes," he continued, "very lonely and not particularly comfortable, as +you can fancy, when I tell you where my present quarters are. I am +living in the farm-house at Hathercourt Edge, with an old woman to `do +for me,' and she does `do for me' I can assure you," he added, with a +hearty, boyish laugh. + +In spite of her grand resolutions, Lilias could not help laughing too. + +"I know that old woman, I think," she said; "we often see her when we +pass that way. She was old John Birley's housekeeper, wasn't she?--at +least, she `did for him.' I do pity you, but I wonder you stay there." + +"Needs must," replied Captain Beverley, "and there is good in +everything, they say. My uncomfortable life makes me appreciate +civilisation doubly when I return to it. You don't know what a treat it +is to find myself in this cheery room, and how much I shall enjoy--" he +stopped short. + +"What?" said Lilias. + +"A cup of good tea, if you will give it me, I was going to say, only it +suddenly struck me it was a very impertinent suggestion to be made by a +stranger who has no business to be in your drawing-room at all, Miss +Western. The fact of the matter is, I find it difficult to recollect I +am a stranger, for ever since I met you that evening two years ago, I +have remembered you so distinctly that I could fancy I have seen you +often since. It was your first ball, was it not?" + +"No," said Lilias, "I had been at two before." + +"Ah, well," he replied, "that's much the same thing,"--little +understanding that to poor Lilias a ball counted for a year, and that +therefore, having made her _debut_ at Brocklehurst at nineteen, she +already numbered twenty-one summers, or winters, when he first met her. +"It's much the same thing," he went on, without giving her time for the +explanation which her honesty was on the point of volunteering; "it has +always seemed like my first ball to me, for I had only returned from +India the week before, and I wasn't much in the way of balls there." + +"Yes, I remember your speaking of India," said Lilias, "but I think you +said you were going back there again, did you not?" + +"I did think so then," he replied, "but things have changed. I sold out +a few months ago, otherwise I should not be here now. And an unexpected +piece of good luck befell me just then. You may have heard of old John +Birley's strange will?" + +Before Lilias could reply, the door opened, and Mrs Western and Mary +made their appearance. + +CHAPTER FOUR. + +A CUP OF TEA. + + "I have no ambition to see a goodlier man." + + _Tempest_. + +"I am so very much obliged to you for seeing me. I am afraid it is very +inconvenient and uncomfortable for you--in fact, as I have been telling +your daughters, I am altogether ashamed of myself," was the apology with +which Captain Beverley met Mrs Western. + +"But you need not be so, I assure you," she answered, quietly, as she +sat down on the sofa by the fire. "I have been a clergyman's wife too +many years not to be quite accustomed to act as my husband's deputy when +he is out of the way; and Mary--my daughter, I mean," she added, +glancing towards the girls, "tells me you wanted particularly to see Mr +Western. Is it anything in which I can do instead of him, or will you +leave a message? I fear he will not be home till late." + +Notwithstanding the perfect courtesy of this speech, there was something +in it which made Captain Beverley regret again what he had done. He +grew hot when he remembered that not two minutes ago he had been making +interest with the beautiful Miss Western for a cup of tea, and now her +mother made him feel that he was expected to give his message and take +his departure--the sooner the better. + +"How completely Cheviott has been mistaken about these people!" he +thought to himself; but though Mary, who was standing nearest him, could +not read this reflection, she perceived the quick change of expression +in his open, good-tempered face, and she felt sorry--sorry for him, and +a little tiny bit vexed with her mother. + +"Mamma," she broke in, before Mrs Western had time to say any more, +"you must really have tea at once; it will be getting cold. Shall I +pour it out, Lilias, or will you?" + +"I will, thank you," said Lilias, not quite sure if she appreciated her +sister's tactics, but seating herself before the tea-table as she spoke. +"Mother, dear, stay where you are, do," seeing that Mrs Western was +getting up from her seat. + +"I was only looking to see if there were cups enough, my dear. Captain +Beverley, you will have a cup of tea?" said Mrs Western, her natural +instinct of hospitality asserting itself in defiance of her dislike to +strangers. + +"Thank you," he replied, gratefully; "I really cannot resist the chance +of a cup of _good_ tea. My old woman has been giving me such a horrible +decoction. What do people do to tea to make it taste so fearful, I +wonder?" he continued, seriously. "It seems the simplest thing in the +world just to pour hot water over a spoonful or two, and let it stand +for a few minutes." + +The girls laughed, and Mrs Western smiled. + +"It is evident you are a bachelor, Captain Beverley," she said. "There +is nothing that depend more on _how_ it is made than tea. For instance, +hot water is not necessarily _boiling_ water as it should be, and the +`standing a few minutes' should not mean brewing by the fire for half an +hour or more." + +"I see," said Captain Beverley. "I wonder if it would be any use trying +to teach old Mrs Bowker how to make tea properly." + +"Mrs Bowker!" repeated Mrs Western in surprise. + +Lilias laughed again at the bewilderment in her mother's face. + +"How prettily she laughs," thought Captain Beverley, "I wish Laurence +could see her. He declares not one woman in a hundred can laugh +becomingly." + +"Captain Beverley is staying at old Mrs Bowker's, mamma," she +exclaimed--"at least, at John Birley's farm." + +"Or, to be perfectly correct," said Captain Beverley, "old Mrs Bowker +is staying with _me_, though I am quite sure she does not see the +arrangement in that light at all. I was just telling Miss Western," he +continued, turning to the mother, "that Hathercourt Edge--that is to +say, the old farm-house and, what is of more importance, a considerable +amount of land--has just become my property; the last owner, John +Birley, left it to me as the oldest lineal descendant of the _name_--of +the Beverleys of Hathercourt. He had no near relations, and had always +been proud of his own descent from the Beverleys; he came straight down +from a John Beverley who owned all the land about here early in the +seventeenth century, I believe, but whose eldest son sold a lot of it, +so that in process of time they came to be only farmers." + +"That John Beverley must have been `Mawde's' husband, Lilias," said +Mary. + +Captain Beverley looked up with interest. + +"Do you mean the `Mawde' about whom there is a tablet in the church +here?" he said. + +"Yes," replied Mary. "Mawde Mayne, who married John Beverley of +Hathercourt." + +"Ah! yes, that's the same Mawde," said Captain Beverley. "She is our +common ancestress--poor old John Birley's and mine, I mean. I come from +another of her sons, who left these parts and married an heiress, I +believe, but his descendants have had nothing to do with this place from +that time to this. Isn't it strange that Hathercourt, a part of it at +least, should come back to me after all these generations?" + +"It is very nice, I think," said Mary. "I should be so proud of it, if +I were you." + +Her eyes sparkled, and her face brightened up eagerly. For the first +time it struck Captain Beverley that there was something very "taking" +about the second Miss Western. But his glance did not rest on her; it +travelled on to where Lilias sat behind the tea-tray, with a +half-unconscious appeal to her for sympathy in what he was telling. +Lilias, looking up, smiled. + +"Yes," she said, softly, "it is very strange." + +"Then," began Mrs Western, with some little hesitation, "are you, may I +ask, Captain Beverley, going to live altogether at Hathercourt Edge? +You can hardly do so, though, in the house as it is at present. It is +barely habitable, is it?" + +"Very barely," replied the young man. "You never saw such a place. But +I must not grumble; poor old John kept the land up to the mark, though +he spent nothing on the house. I don't mean to settle here," (Mrs +Western breathed a sigh of relief), "I have another place which is let +just now, but will soon be free again, and my cousin advises me to live +there and farm it myself. All I mean to do here is to build a good +farm-house, and establish some trusty man as bailiff, and then I can +easily run down now and then--I am often at Romary--and see how things +are going on. And this brings me to what I wanted to see Mr Western +about. I want to ask his opinion of a young man here who has been +recommended to me for my situation." + +"Mr Western will be very glad to tell you all he can, I am sure," said +the Rector's wife. "I dare say he will be able to walk over to +Hathercourt Edge to-morrow to see you, for about such a matter it would +be better for you to speak to himself." + +"Thank you," said Captain Beverley. "But I couldn't think of giving Mr +Western so much trouble. I can easily come over again, and if he is out +it doesn't matter--it is only a pleasant walk--and--and if I am not a +great trouble, I shall be only too grateful to have some one to speak +to, for I am dreadfully tired of the old farm-house, and I must be here +alone another fortnight. By then my cousins will be back at Romary, and +I can take up my quarters there. You know Romary, of course?" + +"No," said Lilias, to whom the question seemed to be addressed, her +colour rising a little; "at least, I have only been there once." + +"It is some miles from here, and we have no carriage," said Mrs +Western, simply. "Old Mrs Romary called on me when we first came here, +but I never saw any more of them. We know very few of our neighbours, +Captain Beverley, for we are not rich, and we live very quietly." Mary +looked up at her mother admiringly. Lilias glanced at Captain Beverley. +His colour, too, had deepened a little. + +"Then I must thank you all the more for being so kind to me," he said, +impulsively. "And, Mrs Western, if, as I shall really be your very +nearest neighbour, you will let me be to some extent an exception to the +rule, I shall thank you still more," he added, with a sort of boyish +heartiness which it was difficult to resist. + +He had got up to go, and stood looking down at his hostess as he spoke +with such a kindly expression in his honest blue eyes, and--he was so +undeniably handsome and gentlemanlike that Mrs Western's cold manner +thawed. + +"The thanks will, I think, be due from us to you if you come to see us +now and then when you are in the neighbourhood; that is to say, at +Hathercourt Edge. Romary is too far off for us to consider its +inhabitants neighbours," she replied. "And I don't quite understand, +but Romary is not your home, is it?" + +"Oh dear, no," he replied, evidently a little surprised at the question. +"Romary belongs now to my cousin, Mr Cheviott. It has been his ever +since his uncle's death, but he has only lately come to live there. He +was my guardian, and the best and wisest friend I have ever known, +though not more than ten years older than myself," he added, warmly. + +"And that young lady--we thought her _so_ pretty," said Lilias--"she is +Miss Cheviott, then, I suppose?" + +"Yes, she is his sister. I am glad you think her pretty. She is a dear +little thing," he replied, looking pleased and gratified. "But I am +really detaining you too long. Will you be so kind as to tell Mr +Western that I shall hope to see him in a day or two? Good-bye, and +thank you very much," he said, as he shook hands with Mrs Western and +her daughters, Lilias last. + +"For a cup of tea?" she said, laughing. + +"Yes, Miss Western, for a cup of tea," he repeated. + +"I like him," said Mary, when the door had closed on their visitor; "he +is honest, and unaffected, and kindly." + +"He is very boyish," said Lilias; "somehow he seems more boyish than +when I saw him two years ago." + +"When you saw him two years ago?" repeated Mrs Western. "I did not +know you had ever seen him before." + +"Yes, mamma. I met him at my second Brocklehurst ball. Mary remembers +my mentioning him," replied Lilias, meekly enough. "I did not know +where he had come from, or whom he was staying with, or anything about +him, and indeed I had forgotten all about him till the other day when he +came to church." + +"He is a pleasant-looking young man," said Mrs Western. + +"Pleasant-looking, mother?" exclaimed Mary. "I call him _very_ +handsome." + +Lilias smiled, but her mother looked grave. + +"Well, well," she said, "I dare say he is handsome; but in my opinion, +my dears, there is great truth in the old saying, `handsome is that +handsome does,' and we do not know anything at all about this Captain +Beverley's doings, remember." + +"At least we know nothing `_un_handsome' about them," said Mary, who +seemed in an unusually argumentative mood. + +"Oh dear, no. I have no reason to say anything against him. I know +nothing whatever about him," said Mrs Western, calmly; "but I do not +like making acquaintance too quickly with young men. One cannot be too +careful. And you know, my dears, I have always said if ever you do +marry I hope and trust it will be some one quite in your own sphere." + +"Mamma!" exclaimed Lilias, growing scarlet, and with a touch of +indignation in her tone, "why should you allude to such a thing? Just +because a gentleman happens to have called to see papa on business--as +if we could not have spoken two words to him without thinking if we +should like to marry him." + +"You need not fire up so, Lilias," replied her mother. "You very often +speak about marrying, or not marrying, and I have heard you maintain it +was gross affectation of girls to pretend they never thought about their +future lives." + +"Yes," said Lilias, "I know I have said so, and I think so, but still +there is a difference between that and--Well, never mind. But, mother," +she went on, with returning playfulness, "I must warn you of one thing. +If by `our own sphere' you mean _curates_, then the sooner, as far as I +am concerned, I can get out of my own sphere the better." + +Mrs Western did not laugh. + +"Lilias," she began, gravely, but the rest of her remonstrance was lost, +for at that moment the drawing-room door opened softly, and a pair of +bright eyes, surmounted by a shag of fair hair, peeped in, cautiously at +first, then, their owner gathering courage, the door opened more widely, +and a tall thin girl, in a brown stuff skirt and scarlet flannel bodice, +made her appearance. + +"Josey, what do you want? Don't you know it is very rude to come +peeping in like that? How did you know we were alone?" said Mary, +somewhat peremptorily. + +"Then he's gone?--I thought he was," answered Josephine, composedly. +"All right, Alexa, you can come in," she turned to call to some one +behind her, and, thus encouraged, a fourth Miss Western--the third as to +age, in point of fact--followed Josephine into the room. + +"Is mamma better? I have really done my best, Mary, to keep them all +quiet," she began, plaintively, "but George and Josey do _so_ squabble. +They wanted to find out who was calling, and I could hardly prevent them +coming to peep in at the door. Yes, Josey, you needn't make faces at me +like that. It's quite true--you know it is." + +"I didn't say it wasn't," said Josey, "but there are more ways than one +of telling the truth. Somebody else was just as inquisitive as `George +and Josey,' but _she_ was far too lady-like to do such a thing as peep. +She would let other people peep for her--that is _her_ way of doing +things she shouldn't," the last words uttered with withering contempt. + +Alexa was a pretty, frightened-looking little creature of sixteen. She +had soft, wistful-looking dark eyes, which filled with tears on the +smallest provocation. + +"Mamma," she exclaimed, "it isn't true! I only said I would like--" + +"I do not want to hear any more about it, Alexa," interrupted Mrs +Western with decision. "I do think you and Josephine might have some +little consideration for me to-day, instead of quarrelling in this way." + +The culprits looked ashamed of themselves; but in two minutes +Josephine's irrepressible spirits had risen again. + +"You might tell me if it really was Captain Beverley," she said to her +elder sisters. "What did he come for?--why did he stay such a time?" + +"Don't answer her, Mary," said Lilias, hastily. "Josephine, I can't +understand how you can be so unladylike." + +"Come up-stairs with me, Josey," whispered Mary, who saw the +storm-clouds gathering again on her young sister's handsome face. "Do +remember that mamma is tired and dull to-night, and we should all try to +comfort her. I will read aloud to you all for half an hour, if you +like, and leave mother and Lilias in peace." + +But Lilias's spirits seemed to have received a check. She remained +unusually quiet and depressed all the evening, and Mary felt puzzled. + +"She cannot really have taken to heart what mother said," she thought to +herself. "Mamma has often said things of that sort without Lilias +minding." + +And when bed-time came and she was alone with her sister, she set to +work to find out what was wrong. + +"What has made you so dull this evening, Lilias?" she asked, gently. + +"Nothing, or rather, perhaps, I should say everything," replied Lilias. +"Mary," she went on; she was sitting in front of the looking-glass, her +beautiful fair hair loosened and falling about her shoulders, and as she +spoke she put her hands up to her face, and leaning with her elbows on +the table gazed into the mirror before her--"Mary, don't think me +conceited for what I am going to say--I wouldn't say it to any one but +you. Do you know, I think I wish I wasn't pretty." + +"Why?" said Mary, without, however, testifying any great astonishment. + +"If I could tell you exactly why, I should understand myself better than +I do," she replied. "I fancy somehow being pretty has helped to put me +out of conceit of my life; and after all, what a poor, stupid thing it +is! A very few years more, I shall be quite _passee_--indeed, I see +signs of it coming already. I want to be good and sensible, and sober, +and contented like you, Mary, and I can't manage it. Oh, it does makes +me so angry when mamma talks that way--about our own sphere and all +that!" + +"You shouldn't be angry at it, it does not really make any difference," +said Mary, philosophically; "poor mamma thinks it is for our good." + +"But it isn't only that; it is _everything_. Mary, people talk great +nonsense about poverty not necessarily lowering one; it does lower us-- +that I think is the reason why I dislike mamma's saying those things so. +There is truth in them. We are rapidly becoming unfit for anything but +a low sphere, and it is all poverty. Did you ever see anything more +disgraceful than the younger girls' manners sometimes?--Alexa's silly +babyishness, and Josephine's vulgar noisiness? They should both be sent +to a good school, or have a proper governess." + +"Yes," said Mary, looking distressed, "I know they should." + +"I can't bear shamming and keeping up appearances," continued Lilias, +"it is not _that_ I want, that would be worse than anything, but I do +feel so depressed about things sometimes, Mary. It is a sore feeling to +be, in one sense, ashamed of one's home. I hope Captain Beverley will +not come again." + +"He is almost sure to do so," said Mary. "I wish you would not feel +things quite as you do, Lilias; I can sympathise with you to a certain +extent, but, after all, there is nothing to be really ashamed of. And +if Captain Beverley, or any one, judges us by these trifling outside +things, then I don't think their regard is worth considering." + +"But it is just by these things that people _are_ judged, and that is +where the real sting of poverty like ours lies," persisted Lilias. + +And Mary, who sympathised with her more than she thought it wise to own +to, allowed that there was a great deal of truth in what she said. "But +must it not be harder on papa and mamma than on us?" she suggested. + +"I don't know," said Lilias, "not in the same way I fancy. Papa feels +it more than mamma, I sometimes think, only he is naturally so +easy-going. And poor mamma, even if she does feel it, she would not +show it. She is so unselfish; and how hard she works for us all! I +don't think she could work so hard if she felt as depressed as I do +sometimes--especially about the younger ones." + +"But you do work hard also, Lilias," said Mary, "and you are nearly +always cheerful. You are unselfish too. Oh! Lilias, I should so like +to see you very, very happy!" + +CHAPTER FIVE. + +IN THE BALNER WOODS. + + "And so at length with the fading year; + There comes a tender time once more, + And the year clings more fondly to life and light, + Now that its labour is over and done. + And the woods grow glorious with purple and red, + As bright as the flowers of spring." + + _Songs of Two Worlds_. + +The next morning was dull and rainy. It was dull enough at Hathercourt +Rectory, but far worse at Hathercourt Edge, and even Arthur Beverley's +unfailing good spirits felt the influence of the outside dreariness. + +"I wish I hadn't gone over to the Rectory yesterday," he said to +himself, "it would have been something to do to-day. I can't go again +till to-morrow, at soonest, and it is so horribly dull here. I wonder +what those girls do with themselves on such a day as this. Their life +must be very monotonous, though they look happy enough. I can't +understand why Laurence doesn't like them. I wonder if that old fool is +going to give me any breakfast?" He turned from the window to look at +the table; it was covered with a very crumpled and coarse cloth, the +forks and spoons, etc, were of the homeliest description, there was +nothing in the shape of eatables but the half of a stale loaf, and an +uninviting-looking lump of evidently salt butter, on a cracked plate. +Captain Beverley eyed it all rather disconsolately. Then he went to the +door--he had to stoop to avoid knocking his head on the lintel--and +called down the narrow, red-tiled passage leading to the kitchen. + +"Mrs Bowker, I say. Aren't you going to give me any breakfast this +morning?" + +No Mrs Bowker appeared in answer to his summons, but out of the depths +of the kitchen a voice replied: + +"I'm a-bringin' it, sir." + +"And what is it? Bacon?" + +"No, sir--heggs," was the reply. + +"Heggs," he repeated, as he turned back again into the parlour, "of +course. I might have known, by this time, if it wasn't bacon it would +be `heggs.' I declare, if I were that Mrs Western, and she I, I +wouldn't be so inhospitable. She might have asked me to go to +breakfast, or luncheon, or something. I am sure those nice girls would +if they could. Ah! well, here comes the heggs, and letters, too!-- +What's going to happen, Mrs Bowker? The postman's not above half an +hour late this morning!" + +"May be he walks fast to get out of the wet," Mrs Bowker suggested, +composedly, as she left the room. + +There were three letters, two manifestly uninteresting, and Captain +Beverley tossed them aside. The third had the postmark "Paris." It was +from Mr Cheviott, and his cousin opened and read it eagerly. It was +rather a long letter, once or twice he smiled, and once, when he came to +a passage close to the end, a slight frown contracted his good-humoured +face. + +"Laurence takes up such unreasonable prejudices," he said to himself, +with some irritation. "What can he know about it?" + +This was the passage that annoyed him: "I hardly think the man you +mention would be experienced enough for your situation--in any case I +would not, if I were you, consult the Hathercourt clergyman about him, +for by all accounts _he_ is far from a practical person as to such +matters, and I rather fancy there is nothing superior about the Rectory +family. They are desperately poor for one thing, but, of course, you +will not need to make friends with them; it is not as if Hathercourt +were to be your head-quarters." + +Captain Beverley ate his breakfast and pondered over his letter. Then +he got up and went to the window, and looked out at the rain. + +"It is very annoying of Cheviott to have taken up this prejudice against +Owen," he thought. "I believe he is the very man for me, and, at any +rate, it is necessary to hear all I can about him. And as for what +Cheviott says about the Westerns I think nothing of it whatever, and he +himself would be the first to own he had been mistaken if he saw the +sort of people they really are. I can understand their not being +popular well enough; they are proud and won't stand being patronised." + +His meditations ended in his deciding to walk over again to Hathercourt +that very afternoon--it would not do to put off hearing about Owen and +settling the matter, and this he could easily explain to Mr Western, as +an excuse for troubling him about it. And, having arrived at this +decision, things in general began to look considerably less gloomy--he +got out the plans for the new farm-house, and examined them critically, +rolling them neatly up again, when the idea struck him that it would be +well to take them with him to the Rectory, in the afternoon. + +"Mr Western may like to see them," he thought, "and, as he is the +clergyman of the parish, it will gratify him to be consulted." + +Then he answered Mr Cheviott's letter, saying nothing about his visit +to Hathercourt, and merely mentioning that he was making further +inquiries about the man Owen, ending with a description of Mrs Bowker +for Alys's benefit, and a hearty wish that they were all back at Romary. + +This important task accomplished, he looked at his watch and saw that it +was eleven o'clock, so he sauntered out for a stroll round the farm and +a talk with his head man. The rain was ceasing, and there was no sort +of reason why he should not walk over to the Rectory in the afternoon; +besides, to-morrow would be Saturday, a day on which clergymen, +proverbially, dislike to be interrupted. So, having dispatched a couple +of rather tough mutton chops, which was all Mrs Bowker condescended to +allow him in the way of luncheon, by half-past two o'clock Captain +Beverley found himself more than ready for his second expedition to +Hathercourt. It was really too early to call, however, but the day had +grown pleasant out of doors, and inside the old farm-house he felt it +impossible to kill any more time. A "happy thought" occurred to him-- +why not go round by the Balner woods? It was a long walk and he might +probably lose his way, but if he did he could but try to find it again-- +anything was better than hanging about Hathercourt Edge doing nothing. + +It was November now, but who that has really _lived_ in the country-- +lived in it "all the year round," and learned every change in the +seasons, every look of the sky, all the subtle combinations of air, and +light, and colour, and scent, which give to outdoor life its +indescribable variety and unflagging interest, who of such initiated +ones does not know how marvellously delicious November can sometimes be? +How tender the clear, thin, yellow tone of the struggling sunbeams, the +half frosty streaks of red on the pale blue-green sky, the haze of +approaching winter over all! How soft, and subdued, and tired the world +seems--all the bustle over, ready to fall asleep, but first to whisper +gently good-night! And to _feel_ November to perfection, for, after +all, this shy autumnal charm is not so much a matter of sight, as of +every sense combined, sound and scent and sight together, lapsing into +one vague consciousness of harmony and repose--the place of places is a +wood. A wood where the light, faint at the best, comes quivering and +brokenly through the not yet altogether unclothed branches, where the +fragrance of the rich leafy soil mingles with that of the breezes from +the not far distant sea, where the dear rabbits scud about in the most +unexpected places, and the squirrels are up aloft making arrangements +for the winter--oh! a wood in late autumn has a strange glamour of its +own, that comes over me, in spirit, even as I write of it, far, far away +from country sights and sounds, further away still from the long-ago +days of youth and leisure, and friends to wander with, in the Novembers +that then were never gloomy. + +Arthur Beverley was by no means sentimental--he whistled cheerily as he +went along, and thought more of the probable amount of shooting in the +Balner woods than of the beauty around him, yet he was not insensible to +it. + +"How jolly it seems after the rain," he said to himself. "After all, +there's nowhere like England, fogs and all--it's fresh, and wholesome, +and invigorating, even in murky weather, like what we've had lately," +and he stood still and looked round him approvingly. + +Suddenly a sound, a faint sound only, caught his ear. He listened. It +came again. This time he distinguished it to be that of cheerful voices +approaching him, then a merry laugh, a little exclamation, and the laugh +again. Arthur Beverley's face lighted up with interest; he felt sure he +knew that laugh. He hastened on and, after a few moments' quick +walking, a little turn in the path brought him in sight of a group of +figures just in front of him; they were the Western girls, the Western +girls in great force, for, besides the two he knew already, there were +the younger ones, Alexa and Josephine, and little Francie. And the +laugh had been Lilias's--he was not mistaken. + +She was standing with her back towards him, and so was Mary, but the +tiny girl beside them drew their attention to his approach. + +"A gentleman, sister," she exclaimed, pulling Miss Western's skirt. And +Lilias, turning round, met his hearty look of pleasure. + +"I thought it was you," he said, as he shook hands, "I heard you laugh." + +"How do you know it _was_ my laugh?" said Lilias, smiling. + +"I recognised it," he said, quietly. + +And Mary glanced up at him brightly. "Yes," she said, "it was Lilias. +She was laughing at Alexa, who screamed because a rabbit ran across the +path. That's not like a country girl, is it, Captain Beverley?" + +"Alexa screams if a butterfly settles on her," said Josephine, +disdainfully, trying to balance herself on the hooked handle of her +umbrella, which she was holding upside-down for the purpose. + +Captain Beverley looked at her and at Alexa with good-humoured +curiosity. Alexa looked pretty and frightened, but Josey, her long thin +legs emerging from a shabby waterproof, her "touzled" fair hair tumbling +out from under a still shabbier hat, was rather a remarkable object. + +"These are your younger sisters, I suppose?" he said, turning to Lilias. + +"Yes," she answered, rather shortly; "we all came out for a ramble as +soon as the rain cleared off. It is so miserable to be shut up in the +house all day." + +"Just what I have been feeling," he replied. "Not that I mind the rain, +but still one can't exactly set off for a walk in it unless one has +something to do or somewhere to go. It is very lucky for me that I met +you; I was just making up my mind to losing my way." + +"I dare say we can direct you," said Lilias, "but we are not going your +way. We are going home; it must be about half-past three now, and we +have been out ever since dinner-time. Mary, don't you think we should +be going home?--it is a good walk from here, you know. You can direct +Captain Beverley to Hathercourt Edge better than I, I think." + +"But I don't want to be directed to Hathercourt Edge," said Captain +Beverley, with a very slight touch of annoyance in his tone. "I have +just come from there. Of course, if you won't let me walk with you, I +must submit; but I _was_ bound for Hathercourt Rectory. I am very +anxious to see Mr Western, and thought I might again take my chance of +finding him at home. That is to say, if he will not think me very +troublesome." + +"Of course he will not," answered Mary, heartily; "he was very sorry to +have missed you yesterday, and I know he will be at home all this +afternoon. Which way shall we go back, Lilias--by the Southmore road, +or all the way through the wood?" + +"By the wood decidedly, _I_ should say," answered Captain Beverley. +"Miss Western," he went on, quickly, "you have got _such_ a bramble on +your skirt--there, now, I have got him--step forward, please--yes, +that's it." + +By this manoeuvre he had managed to get Lilias and himself a little in +front of the others, and he maintained his ground by walking on beside +her. Francie was at her other side, so the arrangement into threes +seemed to come about quite naturally, Mary following with Alexa and +Josephine. By degrees Lilias lost the slight constraint which her +manner had shown at first, and became her usual happy, winning self. +The sound of her voice, and now and then of her laugh, was enough to +make Mary happy too, and well content to keep behind at a reasonable +distance, so that Lilias should not be annoyed by the exhibition before +a stranger of Alexa's foolish shyness or Josey's uncalled-for remarks. + +The sun came out more brightly, and gleamed and quivered down the wood +alleys before them. What did they talk of, those two, as they walked on +quietly, little Francie beside them, trotting along, lost in her own +pretty baby dreams of fairies and brownies and the like, with which her +small head was filled, all unconscious of the old, old drama beginning +once more to be re-enacted in the old, old way that is ever new? What +did they talk of? Could they have told, or did it matter? All about +everythings and nothings, no doubt, so-called "small talk," which yet +seemed full of interest, nothing very wise or weighty--so much, at +least, is certain--but certain too that the walk through the Balner +woods that sweet November afternoon was neither wearisome nor long to +Lilias Western and the new owner of the old Edge farm. + +The sunshine had tempted Mr Western out too. He was walking about the +garden when his five daughters, escorted by Captain Beverley, reached +the Rectory. A momentary expression of surprise crossed his face as he +came forward to meet them, at first sight of the stranger, but it was +succeeded by a look of gratification and pleasure, which quickly set the +young man's mind quite at rest, and left him no doubt of being welcome. + +"I was quite intending to walk over to Hathercourt Edge to see you, to +thank you for the friendly visit yesterday, which I was sorry to have +missed," said the Rector, with a slight touch of old-fashioned +formality, not unbecoming to his tall, thin, refined-looking figure and +gentle face, as he shook hands with Captain Beverley, "and now I see I +must thank you also for taking care of my girls." + +"We don't need to be taken care of that way, papa," said Josephine, "we +were only in the Balner woods, and Captain Beverley was coming here, +anyhow." + +"He only tookened care of Lily and me," said Francie, importantly, but +the observation was a happy one. It was impossible not to laugh at it, +and Josey's abruptness passed unrebuked. + +"I certainly deserve no thanks," said Captain Beverley. "My visit +yesterday was a selfish one, and as for to-day--why, all my thanks are +due to you, Francie! I should have been lost in the woods, and perhaps +eaten up by Red Riding-hood's wolf if I had not met you, and been shown +the way here." + +"But that wolf was killed long ago, Lily says," said Francie, staring up +with great bewilderment in her blue eyes. "It couldn't have eatened you +up when it was killed itself." + +"Indeed. I am very glad to hear it," replied Captain Beverley, gravely, +"then I needn't be afraid of coming through the Balner woods; it is a +good thing to know that. It is a much pleasanter walk than by the +road," he went on, turning again to Mr Western. "I really was on my +way here when I met your daughters. I am afraid you will think me very +troublesome." + +His manner was certainly boyish, but not in the least awkward. That Mr +Western was "taken" with him was quickly evident. + +"Indeed, no," he said, heartily. "Living here so completely out of the +world, as you see, it is very seldom that we have the pleasure of +showing even the little hospitality we have in our power. But, such as +it is, I hope you will accept it. Lilias, Mary," he continued, turning +to his daughters, the younger ones having by this time disappeared, +"tell your mother that Captain Beverley is here." + +"I will," said Mary, hastening away with a great excitement in her +thoughts, "I do believe papa is going to ask him to stay to tea. What +will mamma say?" and not knowing whether she was pleased or distressed, +she hurried in to break the momentous tidings to her mother, and to +consult the cook. + +Lilias was following her, but her father called her back. "You need not +both go, my dears," he said with sudden remembrance of unwritten letters +awaiting him in his study, which must be seen to before four o'clock +post-time. "Perhaps Captain Beverley would like to have a look at the +church again, if you will take him to see it. I will follow you in a +few minutes, but I have a letter or two I must finish, which I was +forgetting." + +"_Pray_ don't let me interrupt you," exclaimed Captain Beverley, with +anxiety almost disproportionate to the occasion. "I should very much +like to look at the church, for there are some tablets there I want to +examine. And if Miss Western will explain them a little, I shall be +very much obliged." + +Lilias hesitated. "Mary understands them better than I do," she began, +but her father interrupted her. + +"I will send her after you, if you go on, and I will finish my letters +as quickly as I can, and then, Captain Beverley, I shall be at your +service. Mrs Western tells me you want to hear about Joseph Owen. You +will stay and--I can't say _dine_ with us--we are very uncivilised, you +see; we have a mongrel meal at six!" + +He spoke with a slight nervousness, which made Lilias's cheek grow hot. +"Poor dear father!" she ejaculated, mentally. But the guest seemed +blissfully unconscious of his host's hesitation. + +"You are very kind indeed," he said, eagerly. "I should very much like +to stay, if I shall not be a trouble. It is so wretchedly dull and +uncomfortable at the Edge, I don't think I could have stood it much +longer, unless--if you had not taken pity on me," he added, laughingly, +as Lilias led the way across the grass to the old church. + +Mary joined them there in a few minutes, and while Captain Beverley was +examining the old coat-of-arms on the tablet in memory of his +ancestress, she found time to whisper to her sister,-- + +"Mamma knows that papa has asked him to stay to tea. I don't think she +minds much." + +"But what will there be for tea?" said Lilias, in consternation. + +"Oh! that will be all right," replied Mary, re-assuringly. + +And, somewhat to Lilias's surprise, her mother showed herself far more +amiably disposed for Captain Beverley, on further acquaintance, than +might have been anticipated. + +"Though, indeed," said Mary, when, at night, they were talking over in +their own room the pleasant evening they had had, "it would be difficult +_not_ to feel amiably disposed to him! He is so unaffected and hearty, +and yet not by any means a goose. He liked talking to papa about +sensible things, I could see." + +"He talked sensibly to me, too," said Lilias, dryly, "though, of course, +I cannot answer for what he may have said to you." + +"Lilias!" exclaimed Mary, "don't be so silly. You know--" + +"What do I know?" + +"That I am not the sort of girl likely to have anything but sensible +things said to me, especially when _you_ are there." + +Lilias laughed merrily. "Really, Mary, you are very complimentary. You +trust to me to absorb all the nonsense, and leave the sense for you! I +think I shall keep out of the way, if Captain Beverley comes here +again." + +"Then he wouldn't come any more," said Mary. "Lily, I'm sleepy, say +good-night, please." + +"Good-night, though I am not sleepy at all," said Lilias, cheerfully. + +What had become of all her low spirits? thought Mary, with a little +bewilderment Lilias was not usually so changeable. The evening had +certainly been a very pleasant one; even the younger girls had somehow +shown to advantage; and Captain Beverley had not merely ignored, he had +seemed perfectly unconscious of the homeliness of their way of living-- +the crowded tea-table, the little countrified waiting-maid, the absence +of the hundred and one small luxuries which to him could not but be +matters of course. And his unconsciousness had reached favourably on +his entertainers; Mr Western lost his nervousness, Mrs Western her +gentle coldness, and every one seemed at ease and happy. Any stranger +glancing in would have thought them all old friends, instead of new +acquaintances, of the handsome young man who was the life and soul of +the party. + +"Mary," said Lilias again, just as Mary was falling asleep, "Captain +Beverley will be at the Brocklehurst ball this year. He is to be +staying at Romary." + +"I thought you said you were never going again," said Mary, who had her +wits about her, sleepy though she was. + +"But you would hot like to go without me, I know," replied Lilias, +meekly. "Oh, Mary, I do wish we could have new dresses for once!" + +Mary did not consider this observation worth waking up to answer. But +her dreams were a strange medley--Captain Beverley dancing at a ball +with his great grandmother Mawde, dressed all in scarlet, as if she were +Red Riding-hood, but with a face like Lilias's. And what Lilias's +dreams were, who can say? + +But the Brocklehurst ball was three weeks off as yet, and there was no +lack of opportunities of discussing it with Captain Beverley. + +Surely November this year must have been an exceptionally fine one, for +there seemed few days on which Arthur Beverley did not find his way +through the woods, or by the road, to the Rectory, with some excuse in +the shape of further plans to be shown to Mr Western, or a book to lend +to the girls or their mother, or without any, save the sight of his own +bright face, and an eager proposal that they should all set off on a +long ramble somewhere or other, instead of wasting one of the few fine +days of late autumn, moping in the house. And by degrees it came to be +a matter of course that, if the owner of Hathercourt Edge chose to drop +in at any or every meal, he should be welcome, and that if he stayed +away he should be missed, and Mrs Western's fears and vague +apprehensions gradually softened, now that this terrible wolf had +actually taken up his quarters in the midst of her flock without, so +far, any of them being the worse! + +"He seems like a sort of elder brother among them all," she said to her +husband. "I wish Basil had been at home--contact with such a man would +have done him good." + +Mr Western agreed with her, for he, too, had greatly "taken" to the +young stranger. It was pleasant to him to find that he had not +altogether fallen out of the ways of his class, that cares, and small +means, and living out of the world had not crusted over his former self +past recognition. Arthur Beverley had not been at college, but he, as +well as his host, had been an Eton boy, and poor George, to whom the +name of Eton was that of a forbidden Paradise, listened with delight to +the many reminiscences in common of his father and his guest, +notwithstanding the quarter of a century which divided their +experiences. So everybody in his or her own way felt pleased with +Captain Beverley, and his coming seemed to have brought new life and +sunshine into the Rectory. Lilias alone spoke little of him, and Mary +sometimes lay awake at night "thinking." + +CHAPTER SIX. + +MARRYING OR GIVING IN MARRIAGE. + + "If there's no meaning in it," said the king, "that saves a world of + trouble, as we needn't try to find any. And yet I don't know." + + _Alice in Wonderland_. + +November was not bright everywhere, however. In Paris everything, out +of doors, that is to say, was looking extremely dull, and Alys Cheviott +many times, during the four weeks her brother had arranged to stay +there, wished herself at home again at Romary. For Paris, though people +who have only visited it in spring or summer (when the sunshine, and the +heat, and the crowds, and the holiday aspect of everything are almost +overwhelming) can hardly perhaps realise the fact, _can_ be exceedingly +dull, and hotel life at all times requires bright weather, and plenty of +outside interests, to make it endurable. Alys did not care particularly +about balls or parties; she was too young to have acquired much taste +for such amusements, though young enough to enjoy heartily the two or +three receptions at which Mr Cheviott had allowed her to "assist." But +it was the day-time she found so long and dreary. She wanted to go out, +to shop and to look about her, and to take long walks in the Bois de +Boulogne in the morning, and drives with her brother in the afternoon, +and every day the weather put all expeditions of the kind out of the +question. It rained incessantly, or, at least, as she complained +piteously, "when it didn't rain it did worse--it looked so black and +gloomy that no one had the heart to do anything." Alys had been in +Paris several times before, she had seen all the orthodox lions, and had +not, therefore, the interest and excitement of the perfect novelty of +her surroundings to support her, and as day after day passed, with no +improvement to speak of, she began sorely to regret having teased her +brother into allowing her to accompany him on this visit, in this case +necessitated by the business arrangements of a friend. + +"I'll never come with you again, Laurence, _anywhere_, when it has +anything to do with business," she declared. + +"Who is `it'?" inquired Mr Cheviott, calmly. + +"Laurence, you are not to tease me. I am too worried to stand it, I am, +really," she replied. + +"`It' again! Alys, you are growing incorrigible. I really think my +best plan would be to send you to a good school for a year or two--the +sort of place where `young ladies of neglected education' are taken in +hand." + +He spoke so seriously that for a quarter of a second Alys wondered if he +could be in earnest. She turned sharply round from the window against +which she had been pressing her pretty face in a sort of affectation of +babyish discontent, staring out at the leaden sky, and the wet street, +and the dreary-looking gardens in the distance. + +"Laurence!" she exclaimed. But Laurence's next remark undeceived her. + +"You should not flatten your face against the window-pane. You will +spoil the shape of your nose, and you have made it look so red," he +observed, gravely. "Would you care to live, Alys, do you think, if you +had a red nose?" + +Alys gently stroked the ill-treated member as she answered, +thoughtfully: + +"I hardly think I should. Laurence, do you know there _have_ been times +when I have been afraid they might run in the family." + +"What?" asked Laurence, philosophically. + +"Red noses," answered Alys, calmly. "Aunt Winstanley has one, you know. +She says its neuralgia, but _I_ feel sure it is indigestion." + +Laurence looked up at her with a smile, which broke into a laugh as he +observed the preternatural gravity of her expression. + +"Come and sit down and have some breakfast, you absurd child," he said. +He was already seated at the table. + +Alys walked slowly across the room, and took her place opposite him. +She looked blooming enough notwithstanding all the trials she had had to +endure. As the Western girls had pronounced her, such she was, very, +_very_ pretty--as pretty a girl as one could wish to see. Her soft dark +hair grew low, but not too low, on the white, well-shaped forehead; her +features were all good, and gave promise of maturing into even greater +beauty than that of eighteen; her blue eyes could look up tenderly as +well as brightly from under their long black eyelashes, for their colour +was not of the cold steel-like shade that is often the peculiarity of +blue eyes in such juxtaposition. But the tenderness was more a matter +of the future than the present, for hitherto there had been little in +her life to call forth the deeper tones of her character; she was happy, +trustful and winning, full of life and vigour; incapable of a mean +thought or action herself, incapable of suspecting such in others. + +Mr Cheviott looked at her critically as she sat opposite him. + +"Alys," he said at last, "I am afraid I have not brought you up well." + +"What makes you think so all of a sudden, Laurence?" + +"I am afraid you are spoiled. You are such a baby." + +Alys's eyes flashed a little. + +"Are you in earnest, Laurence?" + +"A little, not quite." + +"I think you have got into the habit of thinking other people babies, +and it's a very bad habit. You like them to do just exactly what you +tell them, and yet you laugh at them for being babies. You think Arthur +is a baby too." + +"There are babies and babies," Mr Cheviott replied. "Some do credit to +those who bring them up, and some don't." + +"Well, _he_ does, whether I do or not," said Alys, "he is as kind, and +good, and nice, and sensible as he can be. And do you know what I +think, Laurence? If there are different kinds of babies, there are +different ways of being spoiled, and I sometimes think _you_ are +spoiled! I do," she continued, shaking her head solemnly. "Arthur +spoils you, and aunt of course does. I believe I am the only person +that does not." + +"And how do you manage to steer clear of so fatal an error?" + +"You are not nice, indeed you are extremely disagreeable when you speak +like that," said Alys, "but still I think I will tell you. I don't +spoil you because I don't think you _quite_ perfect as everybody else +does," and she glanced up at him defiantly. + +Mr Cheviott laughed. He was just going to answer, when there came an +interruption in the shape of his man-servant. + +"Letters!" exclaimed Alys, "I do hope there are some for me; they will +give me something to do. Are there any for me, Laurence?" + +"Yes, two, and only one for me." + +"From aunt and from Arthur," said Alys. "I will read aunt's first, +there is never anything in hers. She just tells me over again what I +told her, and makes little comments upon it. Yes, `so sorry, dearest +Alys, that the weather in Paris has so spoiled the pleasure of your +visit, and that during the last week you have scarcely been able to get +out, except in a close carriage, for a miserable attempt at shopping. +And so you enjoyed Madame de Briancourt's ball on the whole, very much, +and your pink and white grenadine looked lovely, and Clotilde did your +hair the new way.' Did you ever hear anything so absurd, Laurence? It +is like reading all I have written over again in a looking-glass, only +then the letters would be all the wrong way, wouldn't they?" + +But Mr Cheviott did not answer, and Alys, looking up, saw that he had +not heard her; he was busily reading his own letter, and its contents +did not seem to be satisfactory, for a frown had gathered on his brow, +and, as he turned the first page, a half-smothered exclamation of +annoyance escaped him. + +"What is the matter, Laurence?" said Alys. "You don't seem any better +pleased with your letter than I am with mine?" + +"How do you mean? What does he say to you?" inquired her brother, +quickly. + +"Who? Oh, Arthur, you mean. I haven't opened his yet. I was saying +how stupid aunt's letters are. So yours is from Arthur, too, is it?" +said Alys, pricking up her ears, "what's the matter? Is he going to be +married? I do wish he were." + +"Alys!" exclaimed Mr Cheviott, with real annoyance in his tone, "do be +careful what you say. You are too old to talk so foolishly. It is +unbecoming and unladylike." + +"Why? What _do_ you mean?" said Alys, opening wide her blue eyes in +astonishment. "Why shouldn't I talk of Arthur's being married? I have +noticed before that you seem quite indignant at the thought of such a +thing, and I don't think you have any right to dictate to him. It's +just what I was saying, he has spoiled you by giving in so, and the more +inches he gives you the more ells you want to take." + +"I have spoiled _you_, Alys, by allowing you to speak to me as you do. +It is most unjustifiable; and the way you express yourself is worse than +unladylike, it is vulgar and coarse." + +He got up and left the room. Never in all her life had Alys been so +reproved before, and by him of all people, her dear, dear, Laurence--her +father and mother and brother in one, as she often called him. She +could not bear it; she threw aside the unlucky letters which in some way +or other she felt to have been the cause of her distress, and burst into +tears. She cried away quietly for some time, till it occurred to her to +wonder more definitely in what way she had really displeased her +brother, and the more she thought it over the more convinced she became +that Arthur's letter had been the primary cause of his annoyance, and +her own remarks nothing worse than ill-timed and unwise. + +"For I _very_ often say much more impertinent things, and he only +laughs," she reflected. + +There was some comfort in this. She dried her eyes and resolved to try +to make peace on the first opportunity. "Laurence is very seldom angry +or unreasonable," she thought; "but, of course, as I was saying just +now, he is not _perfect_. But I am sure he does not really think me +`coarse and unladylike.' What horrible words!" And the tears came back +again. + +Just then her glance fell on Captain Beverley's unopened letter. "I +wonder if I shall find out, from what he says to me, how he has managed +to vex Laurence so," she thought to herself, tearing open the letter, +and quickly running through its contents. It was a pleasant, cousinly +letter, amusing and hearty, but with nothing that would, to Alys, have +distinguished it from others she had, from time to time, received from +Arthur, had not her eyes been sharpened by her brother's strange +annoyance. Instinctively she hit upon the cause of offence; two or +three times in the course of the letter allusion was made to the Western +family, to their "kindness and hospitality," their general +"likeableness," and a far less quick-witted person than Miss Cheviott +would have been at no loss to discern Captain Beverley's growing +intimacy with the Rectory household, and to suspect the existence of +some special attraction, though possibly as yet unsuspected by the young +man himself. + +"I am sure it is about the Westerns that Laurence is annoyed," said Alys +to herself. "I have noticed that he does not like them, and he is +afraid of Arthur falling in love with one of them. But why shouldn't +he? I can't understand Laurence sometimes. I am sure if ever _he_ +marries it will be to please himself, and nobody else. What is the good +of a man's being rich if he can't do that? And Arthur is rich enough! +Yes, the more I think of it the more sure I am that it was something +about the Westerns that made Laurence angry." + +She was not long left in doubt. The door opened and Mr Cheviott made +his appearance again. He looked grave and preoccupied, but as calm as +usual. When, however, his glance fell on Alys's flushed cheeks and +tearful eyes, his expression grew troubled. He came behind her chair +and putting his hand on her head, turned her face gently towards him. + +"Do you think me very harsh, Alys?" he said, kindly. "I did not mean to +be so, but I was annoyed, and, besides that, I cannot bear that habit of +joking about marrying, and so on, especially the sort of way girls do so +nowadays. It is very offensive." + +"But I wasn't joking, Laurence. I had no thought of it," replied Alys. +"I will never speak about anything of the kind at all, if you dislike +it; but truly you misunderstood me. I don't think what I said would +have annoyed you if you had not been vexed about something else." + +"Perhaps not," said Mr Cheviott, kindly. "Well, dear, I am sorry for +making you cry, but you will forgive me, won't you?" + +Alys smiled up through the remains of her tears. + +"Of course," she replied. "You know you could make me think it all my +own fault, if you liked, Laurence. And I understand what you mean about +disliking joking about marrying, and so on, but indeed I was quite in +earnest. I should very much like Arthur to marry, and I cannot imagine +why you should so dislike the idea of it." + +She glanced at her brother questioningly as she spoke--her curiosity +strengthening as her courage revived--but his expression baffled her. + +"Why do you so much wish Arthur to marry?" he inquired. "You have never +seemed to dislike him, Alys." + +"Dislike him!" she repeated, innocently. "Dislike Arthur! _Of course_ +not. I like him more than I can tell; indeed, I think I love him next +best to you of everybody in the world. How could I dislike him? And if +I did, how could that possibly have anything to do with my wishing him +to marry? Why, I want _you_ to marry, but I have given it up in +despair." + +Mr Cheviott looked slightly self-conscious at his sister's +cross-questioning, but turned it off as lightly as he could. + +"You might want to get rid of him," he said, carelessly. "Of course, if +he were married, we should not see so much of him. Why do you want him +to marry?" + +"Just because it would be nice, that is to say, if his _wife_ were nice, +and I don't think Arthur would marry any one that wasn't," said Alys. +"She would be in a sort of way like a sister to me, you know, Laurence." + +"Those dreams are seldom realised," observed Mr Cheviott, cynically. +"As nature did not give you a sister, I would advise you to be content +with what she did give you, even though it is only a very cross old +brother. But what has put all this of Arthur's marrying into your head +just now, Alys? Has he been taking you into his confidence about any +nonsense--falling in love, or that kind of thing, I mean?" And he eyed +Arthur's letter suspiciously. + +"Oh! dear no. Read his letter for yourself, and you will see there is +nothing of the kind," replied Alys. But she watched her brother's face +rather curiously, as she added, "He seems to like the family at +Hathercourt Rectory very much--those pretty girls, you know, that we saw +that Sunday. He says they have been very civil to him." + +"Very probably," said Mr Cheviott, dryly, as he took up the letter. +"Pretty girls, do you call them, Alys? One was handsome, but the other +wasn't." + +"I liked them both," persisted Alys. "One was beautiful, and the other +had a sort of noble, good look in her face, better than beauty." + +"What a physiognomist you are becoming, child!" said her brother, from +the depths of Arthur's letter. He read it quickly, and threw it aside; +then he went to the window, and stood looking out for a minute or two +without speaking. "Alys," he said at last, so suddenly that Alys +started, "you said just now that it was very dull here; so it is, I dare +say, for no doubt the weather is horrible. You would not mind, I +suppose, if I arranged to go home rather sooner than I intended?" + +"Oh, no, I wouldn't mind at all," replied Alys, looking surprised; "but, +Laurence, I thought you couldn't possibly get your business finished +sooner than you said." + +"I think I might manage it," he said. "Indeed, I fancy I am needed on +the other side of the water quite as much as here. I may have to come +back again before long, but that's easily done. I'm going out now, +Alys, but I shall be in by one, and if it's at all fine this afternoon, +we might pay the calls we owe, especially if we are leaving sooner. I +can tell you certainly what I fix by luncheon-time." + +"Very well," replied Alys. "I shall not be sorry to go home, and for +one thing, Laurence, I should like to be at home in time for the +Brocklehurst ball." + +"_What_ a reason!" exclaimed Laurence, as he left the room. "Now that +you have reminded me of it, it is almost enough to tempt me to stay away +to escape it." + +At luncheon-time he returned, telling her that he had fixed to leave in +two days. + +"And just out of contradiction," said Alys, "I believe it is going to be +bright and fine;" for a gleam of positive sunshine, as she spoke, made +its way into the room. + +"All the better for our calls," said Laurence. + +The gleam strengthened into steady brightness, and when Alys found +herself, wrapped in the most becoming of attires, velvet and furs, +seated beside her brother in a very luxurious carriage, behind two very +respectable horses, the young lady began to feel that it might have been +very possible to enjoy herself, if only the fine weather had been +quicker of coming. It was a little--just the very least little bit in +the world--provoking that now, just as it _had_ come, Laurence should +make up his mind that they must go. + +She looked at him doubtfully as the thought crossed her mind. The +sunshine did not seem to have any exhilarating effect upon him; he +looked dull and more careworn than since they had been in Paris. + +"Laurence," she said, hesitatingly, "I suppose you have _quite_ made up +your mind to leave on Friday?" + +"Quite," he said, gently. "Are you beginning to regret it?" + +"A little; it is nice when it is fine, isn't it? Paris forgets the rain +so quickly." + +"Paris forgets all disagreeable experiences far too quickly." + +Alys gave a little shiver. + +"Oh, please don't put revolutions, and barricades, and guillotines in my +head, Laurence," she said, beseechingly. "Even the names of the streets +are associated with them, if one begins thinking of such things. One +must do at Rome as the Romans do, so let me be thoughtless in Paris." + +"Still, on the whole, you prefer England. You would not like to marry a +Frenchman, would you, Alys?" + +"_Of course_ not," replied Alys, "and of all things I would not like to +be married in the French way, hardly knowing anything about the man I +was to marry. Ermengarde de Tarannes, Laurence, that pretty girl whom +we saw at the Embassy, is to be married to a Marquis something or other, +Mrs Brabazon told me, whom she has _really_ only seen three times, for +he is now in Italy, and will only return the week before the marriage. +Fancy how horrible!" + +Mr Cheviott smiled. + +"You are a regular little John Bull, child," he said; "still I +understand your feeling. There is something to be said, however, in +favour of the French way of arranging such things, where the parents or +guardians of a girl are sensible people, that is to say. Perhaps a +union of both ways would be perfection." + +"How do you mean?" asked Alys. + +"Supposing a case where a girl had known a man nearly all her life, and +had got to care for him unconsciously almost, and that at the same time +he was the very man of all others whom, for every reason, her parents, +or whoever stood in their place, wished her to marry, would not such a +case be pretty near perfection?" + +"Rather too perfect," said Alys. "The chances are that the hero would +spoil it all by not wanting to marry _her_." + +Mr Cheviott looked annoyed. + +"Don't be flippant, Alys," he said; "of course that part of it I was +taking for granted." + +"I didn't mean to be flippant," said Alys, penitently; "I never want to +vex you, Laurence. I'd do anything to please you. I'm not sure that I +would not even marry to please you, if you want to try an experiment of +the French way." + +She looked up in her brother's face with a smile, and he could not help +returning it. + +"If you promise never to marry to _dis_please me, I shall be satisfied," +he answered. "But, after all, it's a difficult question. I have known +some English marriages turn out quite--ah, surely _more_ miserable than +ever a French one could." + +"But what has put marrying so much into your head to-day? This morning +you were distressing yourself about Arthur's prospects, and now you are +worrying yourself about mine?" + +"Not _worrying_ myself. It is only natural I should think about your +future sometimes. And if your memory is not very capricious, Alys, I +think it will tell you that it was yourself, not I, who first began +talking about marriage this morning, when Arthur's letters came. Do you +remember?" + +"Yes; but still--" + +"Here we are at Madame de Briancourt's," interrupted Mr Cheviott. + +"Madame" was at home, and the brother and sister made their way across +the spacious entrance, along a corridor, then through a suite of rooms, +hardly so beautiful by daylight as when Alys had last seen them on the +evening of a grand reception, to a small boudoir at the very end of all. +As she passed along, Alys's thoughts continued in the same direction. + +"But still," she repeated to herself, "I don't understand Laurence. I +am sure he has got something in his head--about Arthur--or about me; +still _perhaps_ it is not that: he may have been annoyed about something +quite different, and Arthur's letter may not have anything to do with +our going away in such a hurry. Anyway, I can leave it to Laurence; I +am not going to bother my head about it, for there may be nothing in it, +after all." + +And, two minutes afterwards, her head was full of other things, for +there was what, to Alys's eyes, looked quite a crowd of gayly dressed +ladies and gentlemen when the door at the end of the long suite was +thrown open, and the brother and sister found themselves, for the +moment, the observed of all observers. + +CHAPTER SEVEN. + +THIS VERY LITTLE WORLD. + + Alonzo.--What is this maid with whom thou wast at play? + Your eldest acquaintance cannot be three hours. + + _Tempest_. + +For the beautiful Miss Cheviott, little though she had been seen in +Paris, had been seen enough to make a considerable sensation, especially +as rumour, in this case with somewhat more foundation than usual, added +the epithet _heritiere_ to the rest of Alys's charms. Parisian papas +and mammas sighed at the perversity of the British customs, which +forbade their entering the lists on behalf of their eligible Adolphes +and Gustaves, and the representatives of the English upper ten thousand, +then in Paris, would have been very ready to make great friends with the +brother and sister. But their advances were hardly reciprocated; Alys's +inexperience failed to appreciate them, and Mr Cheviott's somewhat +"stand-off" manner was not encouraging. Ill-natured people made fun of +him for "mounting guard over his sister," more amiably inclined +observers pronounced such brotherly devotion to be really touching, but +one and all fell short of attaining to anything like intimacy with the +owner of Romary or the reputed heiress. + +So some amount of curiosity, added to the interest inspired by the two +Cheviotts and the buzz of conversation in Madame de Briancourt's +boudoir, perceptibly subsided for a minute or two on their first +appearing. Alys, in her simplicity, hardly observed this, or, if she +did so, was not struck by it as anything unusual, but Mr Cheviott +noticed and was a little annoyed by it. + +"I would not have called here this afternoon, if I had known we should +find Madame de Briancourt `at home' in such force," he said to an +English lady of his acquaintance after paying his respects to his +hostess. + +"Ah, you have not been long enough in Paris to be quite _au fait_ of +everything," said Mrs Brabazon, good-naturedly. "There is always a +great crowd here on Thursdays. But why should you object to it? It is +all the more amusing." + +"I am not fond of crowds, and, as for my sister, she is quite +unaccustomed to anything of the kind. She is hardly `out'," he added, +with a smile. + +Mrs Brabazon smiled too. "I can quite believe it," she replied, "and I +can, too, prophesy very certainly that, in her present character as your +sister, she will not be `out' _long_." + +She looked up at Mr Cheviott expecting to see that the inferred +compliment had pleased him. But, to her surprise, far from testifying +any gratification the expression of his face seemed rather to tell of +annoyance, and, being a good-natured woman, Mrs Brabazon felt sorry, +and began wondering what there could have been in her harmless little +speech so evidently to "rub him the wrong way." Alys, sitting at a +little distance talking to a young lady to whom Madame de Briancourt had +introduced her, happened at this moment to look round and caught sight +of her brother's face. + +"Laurence is vexed at something," she thought, and, moving her chair a +little so as to bring herself within speaking distance of her brother +and Mrs Brabazon, she tried to think how she could give a turn to the +conversation which so evidently was not to Mr Cheviott's taste. The +"turn" came from another direction. A tall, thin boy of sixteen, or +thereabouts, a boy with a somewhat anxious and almost girlishly sweet +expression of face, came softly and half timidly across the room in Mrs +Brabazon's direction. + +"Aunt," he said, hesitatingly, "I think it is getting rather late--that +is to say, if you are still thinking of a drive." + +"I was just thinking so myself, Anselm. Just you find out, my dear boy, +if the carriage has come; it was to follow us here, you know, and I +shall be ready in a moment." + +The boy turned away to do as she asked. + +"That is my _other_ nephew--Anselm Brooke," she explained to Mr +Cheviott. "Basil you know?" + +"Oh, yes," said Alys's brother, with evident interest. "How is he, poor +fellow? I was just going to ask you. Better, I hope?" + +Mrs Brabazon shook her head, and the tears filled her eyes. + +"There will be no real `better' for him, I feel sure," she said, sadly. +"Yet my brother will not believe it, or rather persists in saying he +does not. I can understand it; I remember how obstinately incredulous I +was when Colonel Brabazon's illness became hopeless. But it is sad, is +it not? You remember what a fine young fellow Basil was only last +year?" + +"Yes," said Mr Cheviott, kindly. "It is very sad." + +"And poor Anselm, it is really piteous to see his devotion to Basil. He +has always looked up to him as to a sort of superior being, and indeed +Basil has been treated as such by us all. Anselm has always been so +delicate and backward--a frail staff to lean upon, but my mind misgives +me that before long his father will have no other." + +"Do the doctors think as you do?" + +"They do not _say_ so, but I feel sure they think so." + +"I should like to see Basil again before I leave. May I call, do you +think?" + +"By all means; it would please him very much. Are you going straight +home when you leave Paris--to Meadshire, I mean, for that is `home' now +to you, I suppose." + +"Yes," replied Mr Cheviott, "we go straight to Romary. You must come +and see us there some time or other, Mrs Brabazon." + +"Thank you," she said, with a sigh, "I must make no plans just now. My +time belongs entirely to my brother and the boys. But talking of +Meadshire reminds me--is it anywhere near Withenden that you live?" + +"Very near--within a mile or two." + +"Have you ever heard of a place called Hathercourt near there?" inquired +Mrs Brabazon, with interest. "You don't happen to know anything of the +clergyman of Hathercourt, or rather of his family? West, I think, is +the name." + +"Western," interrupted Alys close by. "Oh, yes, they are such pretty +girls. I am sure they are nice." + +"How can you possibly judge, Alys?" said her brother, coldly. "You only +saw them once in your life, and just for a mere instant." + +But Alys's eager, flushed face, and warmly-expressed admiration of the +Western sisters, had absorbed Mrs Brabazon's attention; she hardly +heard what Mr Cheviott said, or, if she did, she gave no heed to it. + +"So you know them, then, Miss Cheviott?" she said, cordially, smiling at +Alys as she spoke. "Do tell me all you know about them. `Girls,' you +say--are they all girls, then--no sons?" + +"Oh, yes," said Alys, "I think there are sons--indeed, I feel sure there +are. But it was the girls I noticed, one was _so_ pretty." + +The eagerness died out of her voice, for the expression of her brother's +face told her that again she had managed to displease him. + +"How unlucky I am to-day," she said to herself, and the change in her +manner was so complete that Mr Cheviott was afraid Mrs Brabazon would +notice it. + +"It is a case of `all kinds' in the Western household," he said, with a +slight laugh. "Alys and I only saw them once in church--there seemed to +be girls and boys, of every size, down to little mites--a regular poor +parson's family." + +"But what sort of people are they?" asked Mrs Brabazon. "Being such +near neighbours, you must hear something about them." + +"They are not such very near neighbours of ours. Withenden is the +nearest railway station to Hathercourt, and we are only three miles from +Withenden, but Hathercourt again is four miles the other way. Of course +I take some interest in Hathercourt now, on Arthur Beverley's account. +You heard of his romantic legacy?" + +"Oh! yes," said Mrs Brabazon. "He wrote all about it to Basil. But I +wish you would tell me anything you do know or have heard about these +Westerns." + +"Which is very little. They are not in any sort of society." + +"How could they be, if they are so very poor?" + +Mr Cheviott slightly shrugged his shoulders. + +"I did not say they could be," he answered, with a smile. "I was only, +at your bidding, telling the very little I know about them. They are +not in any society, not only because they are very poor, but because +people know nothing about them. The father is not a man who has +distinguished himself in any way, and I believe he married beneath him-- +a poor governess, or something of that kind--so what can you expect?" + +Mrs Brabazon gave a curious smile. + +"Oh! indeed," she said, dryly. "So the _on dit_ of Meadshire is that +the Rector, or Vicar--which is he?--of Hathercourt married beneath him. +Thank you; I am glad to know it. Here comes Anselm, I must go! You +said these Western girls were pretty, did you not, Miss Cheviott?" she +went on, turning to Alys. "Their beauty must be of the dairy-maid +order, I suppose?" + +Alys felt that her brother's eyes were fixed upon her, but she answered +sturdily nevertheless. + +"On the contrary, they are particularly refined-looking girls. The +eldest one especially has the sort of look that--that--" she hesitated. + +"That a princess of the blood royal might have," suggested Mrs +Brabazon, laughingly. + +Alys smiled, and so, to her relief, did her brother. Then Mrs Brabazon +and the boy Anselm took their departure, and not long after, Madame de +Briancourt having overwhelmed them with her pretty regrets and +desolations at their leaving Paris so abruptly, the brother and sister +bade their hostess farewell, and drove off again on their round of +calls. + +"Laurence Cheviott is evidently prejudiced against these Westerns. I +wonder why, for I think him a reasonable sort of man, on the whole," +said Mrs Brabazon to herself. "Can it be possible that he has fallen +in love with this very magnificent Miss Western, whom his sister admires +so much, and that she has snubbed him? _That_ I can quite believe he +would find it hard to forgive. But, oh! no, that is quite impossible. +I remember he said he had only seen them once. I think I shall get +Basil, poor fellow, to write to Arthur Beverley; he may know something +of them. I would like to see them, and it would be a satisfaction to +Basil too." + +"What possible reason can Mrs Brabazon have for wanting to know +anything about those Westerns? I am afraid she is something of a +busybody after all. Surely Arthur cannot have been writing anything +about them to Basil Brooke? Oh, no, it can't be that, for if he had +written anything of consequence, it would have been confidentially, and +he would hardly be likely to trouble Brooke about anything of _that_ +kind now," thought Mr Cheviott, when he found himself in the carriage +again beside his sister, driving rapidly away from Madame de +Briancourt's. + +Alys noticed his abstraction. + +"What are you thinking of, Laurence?" + +"Only what a very little world this is!" + +"I know," exclaimed Alys, not sorry to draw the conversation round to a +point where her mind was not at rest. "You are thinking how strange it +was that we should twice in one day hear Hathercourt Rectory spoken of-- +at least, not twice spoken of, but I mean mentioned, in Arthur's letter, +and again by Mrs Brabazon. Laurence, were you vexed with what I said +of the Westerns? Did it seem like contradicting you?" + +"Oh, no, you could not help saying what you thought--nor could I," he +added, after a little pause. + +"I did think those girls _so_ pretty, especially the eldest one, and not +only pretty, but something more--good and nice." + +"I don't see how they _can_ be superior, however, considering their +disadvantages," said Mr Cheviott, musingly. "I don't agree with you in +admiring the elder one more than the other. There was something not +commonplace about that younger girl," and a curious feeling shot across +his mind as he recalled the young face with the kindly honest eyes and +half shy smile that had met his glance that Sunday morning in the porch +of the old church--a feeling almost of disloyalty in the words and tones +with which he had replied to Mrs Brabazon's inquiries--a ridiculous +feeling altogether to have in connection with a girl he had only seen +once in his life, and that for not more than five minutes. But the +vision of Mary Western's face had imprinted itself on his memory, and +refused to be effaced. + +Alys fancied that the prejudice she had suspected was passing away; it +could not have been very deep after all. She determined to take a bold +step, and one that she had been meditating for some time. + +"Laurence," she said, "when we go back to Romary I wish you would let me +know those girls. I can't tell you why I have taken such a fancy to +them, but I _have_. You could soon judge by seeing a little more of +them if they are nice girls, and I am _sure_ you would find they are. I +have never had many companions, and it is dull sometimes--rather dull, I +mean." + +She looked up in his face appealingly. It was very grave. + +"Surely," he was saying to himself, "the Fates are dead against me. +What can have put it into the child's head to want to set up a romantic +friendship with these Westerns? Can Arthur have to do with it? Can he +possibly have written anything to Alys besides what I saw?" + +"You are vexed with me, Laurence," she said, deprecatingly, as he did +not speak. Then he looked at her and felt ashamed of his suspicions, +and his tone was gentle when he answered: + +"No, I am not vexed with you, but a little disappointed, perhaps, at +your asking anything so foolish. Just reflect, dear, what _can_ you +know of those girls to make you wish to choose them for friends--" + +"They have such nice faces." + +"And what I know of the family is not to their advantage," pursued Mr +Cheviott, without noticing the interruption. "None of the Withenden +people speak cordially of them, or indeed seem to know anything about +them." + +"And you call that to their disadvantage, Laurence!" exclaimed +Alys--"you who have so often said what a set of snobs the Withenden +people are. Of course it is very easy to see why the Westerns are +disliked; they won't be patronised by the county people, and they are +too refined for the Withenden set, and so they keep to themselves, and +the girls' beauty makes everybody jealous of them." + +She looked up in her brother's face triumphantly, feeling that she had +the best of it, and so, too, in his heart, felt Mr Cheviott. But he +could not afford to own himself vanquished, and took refuge in being +aggrieved. + +"Very well, Alys," he said, coldly, "I cannot argue with you; you will +be of age in three years, and then you can choose your own friends, but +while you are under my guardianship, I can but direct you to the best of +my judgment, however you may dislike it." + +Alys's eyes filled with tears. + +"Oh, Laurence, don't speak to me like that; I am so unlucky to-day. I +did not--indeed I did not mean to vex you; I should never want to go +against your wishes--_never_, not if I live to be a hundred instead of +twenty-one. Laurence, do forgive me!" + +And Laurence smiled and "forgave," though wishing she were convinced as +well as submissive, for somewhere down in the secret recesses of his +consciousness, there lurked a misgiving which shrank from boldly facing +daylight as to whether his arguments had altogether succeeded in +convincing himself. + +"I am very sorry to hear of Basil Brooke being so ill," he said by way +of changing the conversation. + +"Is that one of Mrs Brabazon's nephews?" + +"Yes, the elder; they have come to Paris to try some new doctor, but it +is no use. I thought so when he first got ill; and now what his aunt +says shows it is true. Poor fellow!" + +"Have you known him long? I don't think I ever heard you speak of him +before," said Alys. + +"He was more a friend of Arthur's than mine; they were in the same +regiment. But here we are at Mrs Feston's." + +On the whole, Alys enjoyed these few last days in Paris much more than +the weeks which had preceded them. She was touched by her brother's +evident anxiety that she should do so. Never had she known him more +indulgent and considerate, but yet he was less cheerful than usual--at +times unmistakably anxious and uneasy. There came no more letters from +Captain Beverley, but Alys was not sorry. + +"It was something in that letter of Arthur's that annoyed Laurence so +the other day," she thought to herself; "and fond as I am of Arthur, I +couldn't let him or any one come between Laurence and me." + +And she was not quite sure if she felt pleased or the reverse when her +brother told her that, in all probability Captain Beverley would be +their guest almost as soon as they reached Romary. + +"You haven't written to tell him when we are going home, have you, +Alys?" + +Alys looked up from her letter to Miss Winstanley in surprise at the +inquiry. + +"I?" she said; "oh dear, no. I leave all that to you of course. I have +not answered Arthur's letter at all; there seems to have been so much to +do this last day or two." + +Her brother seemed pleased and yet not pleased. + +"It is just as well. I don't think I shall tell him either. We'll take +him by surprise--drive over to see him in his bachelor quarters at the +farm-house the day after we get home, eh?" + +"Oh, yes, do," exclaimed Alys, eagerly. "We'll say we have come to +luncheon! What fun it will be; for Arthur has about as much notion of +housekeeping as the man in the moon, and he will look so foolish if he +has to tell us he has nothing in the house but eggs!" + +"You don't suppose he has been living on nothing but eggs all this time, +do you?" + +"He may have had a chop now and then for a change," observed Alys; "but +from what he said in his letter, I don't fancy he has had to depend much +on himself. He seems to have been a great deal with his friends at the +Rectory." + +There was intention in the allusion. Alys stole a look at her brother's +face to see if the effect was what she half anticipated. Yes; the +amusement had all died put of his expression, to be replaced by +annoyance and anxiety. Alys's conscience smote her for trying +experiments at the cost of her brother's equanimity. + +"Poor Laurence!" she reflected. "I wish he would not worry himself so +much about other people's affairs. Arthur is quite able to take care of +himself. But evidently it _is_ about him and the Westerns that Laurence +is in such a state of mind. I really do wonder why he should care so +much." + +And the next morning the Cheviotts left Paris. + +CHAPTER EIGHT. + +PLANS. + + "Se'l sol mi splende, non curo la luna." + + _Italian Proverb_. + +"_Man proposes, but the weather interposes_," is a travesty of the +well-known old saying, which few people would dispute the truth of. +Directly the delay in the Cheviotts' return home was traceable to other +agencies, but indirectly the weather was at the bottom of it after all. +The journey to London was accomplished without let or hindrance by the +way; the let and the hindrance met the brother and sister on their +arrival at Miss Winstanley's house, where they were to spend the night, +in the shape of a letter for one thing, and of a bad sore throat of +their hostess for another. And all that was wrong was the fault of the +weather! Miss Winstanley had caught cold through getting her feet wet +the Sunday before, when the morning had promised well and turned out a +base deceiver by noon; and the letter was from the housekeeper at +Romary, written in abject distress at the prospect of her master and +mistress's return home sooner than she had expected them. More than +distress, indeed; the letter closed an absolute entreaty that they would +not come for ten days or so. It was "a terrible upset with the pipes," +she wrote, that was the cause of her difficulty--an upset caused by a +complete overhauling of these mysterious modern inventions of household +torture, the necessity for which had been revealed by some days of +unusually heavy rains, by which "the pipes" had been tested and found +wanting, and the Withenden plumbers being no exception to their class, +long celebrated as the most civil and procrastinating of "work-people," +had already exceeded by several days the date at which the business was +to have been concluded. + +"Pipes is things as can't be hurried," wrote Mrs Golding, pathetically, +"and, as everybody knows, it's easy getting work-people into a house to +getting them out again; but what with the pipes and the men, the house +is in that state I cannot take upon myself to say what my feelings would +be for you and Miss Alys to see it." + +Now Mrs Golding was an excellent servant; she had been Alys's nurse, +and though her grammar was far from irreproachable, and her general +appearance not more than respectable and old-fashioned, she was +thoroughly well qualified for the somewhat onerous post to which, on her +master's accession to Romary, he had at once promoted her. But she had +two faults--she had feelings and she had nerves. + +The letter came at breakfast-time. Alys and her brother were by +themselves, Miss Winstanley's sore throat preventing her coming down as +early as usual. Mr Cheviott read it, and tossed it across the table to +his sister. + +"So provoking!" he exclaimed. + +"Yes," said Alys, "it is tiresome just when you were so particularly +anxious to go home. But I see no help for it; when nurse takes to her +`feelings,' what can we do? No doubt the house is in a terrible mess, +and if we persisted in going down at once, I really believe she would +have a fit. If we wait a few days, as she suggests, you may trust her +to have everything ready for us; and indeed, Laurence, I was thinking +just before nurse's letter came that it seemed hardly kind of me to go +away when aunt is ill and all alone. She will be able to come with us +to Romary in a week, she says, if we can wait till then." + +Mr Cheviott did not at once answer. + +"It is unlucky," he said at last; "but, as far as I am concerned, I must +not put off going home, and Mrs Golding's feelings must just make the +best of it. But you had better stay here a week or so, Alys, I see +that, so you can tell my aunt so." + +"Thank you," said Alys; "but I wish you could stay too." + +But "No, it is really impossible," was her brother's reply, and soon +after he went out. + +Alys did not see him again till about an hour before dinner-time. + +"Is my aunt up yet?" he inquired, as he came in, and even in the tone +with which he uttered the two or three words she could perceive a +cheerfulness which had not been his in the morning. + +"No," she replied, "but she says she will come into the drawing-room +after dinner. She is much better." + +"Ah, well, then, if I am not to see her till after dinner, you must tell +her from me that I have taken the liberty of inviting a friend to dinner +in her name. Fancy, Alys, almost the first person I ran against this +morning was Arthur. He only came up to town yesterday for a few days to +settle something about this new farm-house that his head's running +upon--so lucky we met!" + +"Yes, very. I shall be so glad to see him," said Alys, heartily. "But +what a pity, Laurence, that you have to go just as he has come. It +would have been so nice for all of us to go home together." + +Mr Cheviott hesitated. + +"I am not, after all, perfectly certain that I shall go down to Romary +quite so soon as I said. Part--in fact, the chief part--of my business +was with Arthur, and if he stays in town a few days too, we may all go +down to Romary together, as you wish." + +"That's very nice of you, Laurence. I really think my training is +beginning to do you good. Aunt, of course, will be delighted to see +Arthur, but I will go and tell her about it now." + +She was leaving the room when her brother called her back. "Remember," +he said, "I haven't _promised_," but Alys laughed and shook her head, +and ran off. + +"I can manage Arthur," she thought, "if it depends on him. But I am +sure there is something Laurence has not told me that has annoyed him +lately, though he looks happier to-night--I wonder what it is all +about." + +Captain Beverley was a great favourite with Miss Winstanley, whose +affection for her nephew--her half-brother's son--Laurence Cheviott, was +considerably tempered with awe. But with Arthur she always felt at +ease. + +"It is not that I mind being laughed at, now and then," she would +confide to Alys, pathetically, "but with Laurence I really never feel +sure if he is laughing at me or not. Of course he is never wanting in +real respect, and he is the best of nephews in every way, but I can't +deny that I am frightened of him, and, however _you_ laugh at me, my +dear, you can't laugh me out of it. I always have been afraid of +Laurence, ever since he was a baby, I believe. He has had such a +dreadfully _superior_ sort of way of looking at one, and saying, `What +for does you do that?'" + +"What a dreadful baby he must have been! I always tell him he was never +snubbed as much as would have been for his good," Alys would reply, upon +which her aunt would observe, with a sigh, that it was "far too late in +the day to think of anything of the kind _now_." + +Her spirits rose greatly when she heard that Arthur was coming to +dinner. + +"I really think I feel well enough to dine with you, after all," she +said to Alys. "It would certainly seem more hospitable, as Arthur is +coming, and I don't like to get the character of exaggerating my +ailments," and Alys agreed with her that if she were "well wrapped up," +the exertion of going down two flights of stairs to the dining-room was +not likely to do her any harm. + +"But you know, aunt, you mustn't eat too much at dinner," said Alys, +gravely, "for if you feed a cold you'll have to starve a fever. A +little soup and a spoonful of jelly--anything more might be very +dangerous." + +"Naughty girl, _you_ are laughing at me now," remonstrated poor Miss +Winstanley, but Alys assured her solely that she was "quite, quite in +earnest." + +And the _partie carree_ was a very cheerful one. Laurence seemed more +light of heart than he had been for some time; Arthur, whose state of +spirits was, to give him his due, seldom such as to cause his friends +much anxiety, was even gayer and merrier than usual, almost feverishly +so, it seemed to Alys once or twice, and yet again, when she caught his +eyes fixed upon her with a sort of appealing anxiety in their expression +that she never remembered to have seen in them before, she could have +fancied, were such a fancy possible in connection with so light-hearted +and thoughtless a being, that he, in his turn, had something on his +mind. Could the mantle of Laurence's recent anxiety have fallen upon +him? she asked herself. It seemed so strange to associate anxiety of +any kind with Arthur that she tried to dismiss the idea, and told +herself that she must have grown morbid from being so much alone with +Laurence, and fancying he was vexed or annoyed whenever he looked dull. + +"Then it is all nicely settled about our staying in town, and going down +to Romary together. It all depends on you, Arthur." + +Captain Beverley looked surprised. + +"On _me_!" he exclaimed, "how do you mean? I thought it all depended on +Miss Winstanley's sore throat." + +"Oh! no. Laurence's staying has nothing to do with aunt. He said he +had business with you, but that you could settle it in town as well as +at Romary, if you could stay--and so you will stay, won't you? It would +be so much nicer to go down all together." + +Captain Beverley looked increasingly mystified. + +"I don't understand--" he was beginning, but Mr Cheviott, whose +attention had been caught by the sound of his own name, interrupted him. + +"It is Alys herself who does not understand," he said, good-humouredly, +but not without a little constraint. "If you had been still at that +delightful farm-house of yours, Arthur, I would have joined you there, +and talked over these improvements. But that can wait, I dare say, and +if you care to go into the financial part of it, we can do that in town +as well. You are not in a hurry to go back to your new quarters, are +you? You will wait and go back with us to Romary, as Alys wishes, won't +you?" Captain Beverley looked a little surprised, and a little +disconcerted. He was not prepared for his cousin's sudden interest in +his improvements at Hathercourt, and hardly understood it, for hitherto +Mr Cheviott had looked somewhat coldly on the schemes Arthur was full +of, and he was still less prepared to be cross-questioned as to his +length of stay in town, which in his own mind he had decided was to be a +very short one. + +"Thank you," he said, with a little hesitation. "I should like to go +over the plans for the Edge with you very much. But as to my staying in +town another week, I really can't say. I only ran up for a couple of +days, and there are lots of things waiting for me to settle about at +Hathercourt." + +"You are becoming quite a man of business, I see," and Alys fancied that +Arthur winced a little. + +She felt sorry that she had said anything about their plans till she +could have seen Arthur alone, for somehow she had managed to cause an +uncomfortable feeling--the cheerfulness of the little party seemed to +have flown; Laurence grew silent and abstracted; Alys tried nervously to +hit upon a safe subject of conversation. Fortune favoured her. + +"By-the-bye, Arthur," she said, suddenly, "have you heard anything about +the Brocklehurst ball? When it is to be, I mean. Some one said +something about its being earlier than usual, and I shall be rather +glad, for it will be less likely to interfere with other things than +when it is so near Christmas time." + +Captain Beverley looked up in surprise. + +"It is to be in a fortnight--in less than a fortnight, indeed, on the +fourth, and to-day is the twenty-third," he replied. "Did you not know? +I supposed you had made all your arrangements." + +"Oh! I am so sorry!" exclaimed Alys. "I had all sorts of plans in my +head, and now it will be too late." + +"What will be too late? What are you talking about?" said Mr Cheviott; +and when Alys explained, he looked rather ashamed of himself. + +"I should have told you, Alys, but I completely forgot about it. I +found a letter here last night when we arrived, asking us to go to +Cleavelands on the twenty-second, and go to Brocklehurst with a party +from there. You would like that, wouldn't you?" + +But Alys's face did not brighten up as he expected. + +"I thought you liked the Cleaves so much," he said. + +"Yes, I do. I like young Mrs Cleave very much. It isn't that. It is +only that I had set my heart on going from Romary, and asking nice +people to go with us." + +"So we might have done, but for this visit to Paris," said Mr Cheviott. +"But it can't be helped. There will be more balls in the neighbourhood +before the winter is over." + +"Arthur," said Alys, suddenly, but in a low voice, when, later in the +evening, she had got Captain Beverley to herself in a corner of the +drawing-room--"Arthur, do you know what I had set my heart on for the +Brocklehurst ball." + +"What sort of dress, do you mean?" said her cousin. "No, I certainly do +not know, and I am perfectly sure I couldn't possibly guess. So you had +better tell me." + +"I don't mean a _dress_," said Alys, contemptuously, "I meant a _plan_." + +Captain Beverley did not at once answer. + +"A _plan_, I say, Arthur, don't you hear?" repeated Alys, impatiently. + +"I beg your pardon," exclaimed Arthur, rallying his attention. "A plan +to show me, did you say? For my new farm-house? It is very good of you +to trouble about it." + +"Oh! Arthur, how provoking you are! What is the matter with you?" +exclaimed Alys. "Of course it wasn't that sort of plan I was talking +of. It was a plan of mine--one that I had made in my head, don't you +understand? It was about the Brocklehurst ball. I wanted to coax +Laurence into letting me call on the Westerns, Arthur, the Westerns at +Hathercourt, you know, and then I would have got him to let me ask +them--the girls, of course, I mean--to come to stay at Romary for two or +three days, and go to the ball with us. Wouldn't it have been nice, +Arthur? It would have been a treat for them, as the children say. They +are such pretty, nice girls, and I am sure they don't have many +`treats'." + +She looked up in Arthur's face with eager, sparkling eyes, and this time +she had no need to recall his attention. His eyes were sparkling too, +his colour rose, his voice even seemed to her to shake a little with +suppressed excitement as he replied to her: + +"Alys, you are the best and nicest girl in the world. It was just like +you, you dear good child, to think of such a thing, and I thank you--I +always shall thank you for it with all my heart. I felt sure," he went +on, more quietly--"I felt sure I should find I might count upon you, and +now I know it. I have a great deal to tell you, Alys, and I--" + +But at this moment Mr Cheviott's voice was heard. + +"Alys," he was saying, "are you not going to play a little? What +mischief are Arthur and you concocting over there?" + +He came towards them as he spoke. Captain Beverley had laid his hand on +Alys's in his eagerness, his face was flushed, his whole manner and air +might easily have been mistaken for those of an accepted or would-be +lover, and the start with which he threw himself back on his own chair +as his cousin approached, increased the apparent awkwardness of the +situation. But Alys, though her cheeks were rosier, her eyes brighter +than their wont, answered quietly and without confusion: + +"We are not concocting mischief, Laurence," she said; "we are too wise +and sensible for anything of the kind, as you might know by this time. +We'll have another talk about our _plans_ to-morrow, Arthur. Come and +sing something now to please aunt, as she made an effort to do you +honour by coming down to dinner." + +And the _tete-a-tete_ between the cousins was not renewed that evening, +nor, as Alys had proposed, "to-morrow," for Arthur did not make his +appearance at Miss Winstanley's the next day at all. Mr Cheviott saw +him and went with him to the architect's, and brought back word that he +was over head and ears in model pig-sties and shippons. + +"And in farm-houses too," he said. "I think it very foolish of him to +lay out money on doing much to the house itself. It is quite good +enough as it is for the sort of bailiff he should get." + +"Oh, then, he does not intend to live at Hathercourt Edge himself," +remarked Miss Winstanley. + +Mr Cheviott turned upon her rather sharply. + +"Live there himself!" he exclaimed, "of course not. What could have put +such an idea in your head, my dear aunt? At the most, all the income he +can possibly hope to make out of Hathercourt will be within three +hundred a year, and he has quite three thousand a year independent of +that; he could have no possible motive for settling at Hathercourt." + +"But is there not some condition attached to Arthur's fortune?" said +Miss Winstanley, vaguely. "I remember something about it, and he said +the other day that he would not be of age for two years." + +"No; by his father's will he is not to be considered of age till he is +twenty-seven." + +"Then I should say it would be a very good thing for him to settle down +at Hathercourt for two years and learn farming before he has to manage +Lydon for himself," said Alys. + +"_Nonsense_, Alys," said her brother, severely. "What can you possibly +know about anything of the kind?" + +But Alys did not appear snubbed. + +"I rather suspect Arthur has some plan of the kind in his head, whether +Laurence thinks it nonsense or not," she remarked to her aunt, when they +were by themselves in the drawing-room. "By-the-bye, aunt, what did you +mean about there being some sort of condition attached to Arthur's +getting his property? I never heard of it." + +"Oh, I don't know, my dear. I dare say I have got hold of the wrong end +of the story--I very often do," said Miss Winstanley, nervously, for +something in Mr Cheviott's manner had made her suspect she was +trenching on forbidden ground. "And besides, if you have never been +told anything about it, it shows that, if there is anything to hear, +Laurence did not wish you to hear it." + +"Laurence forgets sometimes that I am no longer a child," retorted Alys, +drawing herself up. "However, it doesn't matter. If Arthur looks upon +me as a sister, it is best I should hear all about his affairs from +himself. But, Aunt Fanny," she continued, in a softer tone, "was there +not something unhappy about Arthur's parents? Laurence has alluded to +it sometimes before me, and I have often wondered what it was." + +"It was just everything," replied Miss Winstanley, sadly, "the marriage +was a most foolish one. They were utterly unsuited to each other, and +it was just misery from beginning to end." + +"Was Arthur's mother not a lady?" asked Alys. + +"Oh, yes; you could not have called her unladylike," replied Miss +Winstanley. "It was not that--she married Mr Beverley without any +affection for him, entirely for the sake of his position. She was older +than he, and her people were very poor, and scheming, I suppose, and he +was infatuated." + +"And then he found out what a mistake he had made?" + +"Oh, it was most miserable. And Edward, Arthur's father, you know, was +no one to make the best of such a state of things. He was always so +hot-headed and impulsive, and he had offended all his friends by his +marriage. Your mother, Alys, poor dear, was the only one who stood by +him. And he was grateful to her; yes, he certainly was." + +"But she died," said Alys. "How sad it all sounds!" + +"Yes, she died, but Edward did not long survive her. He was never a +strong man, and he was utterly disappointed and broken down. The last +time I saw him, Alys, was with you in his arms--a tiny trot you were-- +and Arthur playing about. Poor Edward was trying to see some likeness +to your mother in you, and he was impressing upon Arthur that he must +take care of you, and be very good to you always." + +"And so he has been--always," replied Alys. "Next to Laurence, aunt, I +do not think there is any one in the world I care for more than for +Arthur. I would do anything for him, _anything_, just as I would for +Laurence." + +"What are you saying about me, eh, Alys?" said Mr Cheviott, catching +her last words as he entered the room. + +"No harm," said Alys. "We have not been speaking about you at all till +just this minute. I was asking Aunt Fanny about Arthur's father and +mother, and why they did not get on happily together." + +An expression of surprise and some annoyance crossed Mr Cheviott's +face. + +"It is not a pleasant subject," he said, coldly. + +"I dare say not," said Alys, fearlessly, "but one must come across +unpleasant subjects sometimes in life. And, I think, Laurence, you +forget now and then that I am no longer a child. All the same you +needn't look daggers at poor aunt. She hasn't told me anything, +hardly--and it is natural I should wish to hear; for whatever concerns +Arthur must interest me." + +Mr Cheviott's brow relaxed. + +"I did not mean `to look daggers,' as you say, at Aunt Fanny or you +either. Of course it is natural, and some day I shall probably tell you +more about it," he said, kindly. "It's a queer thing," he added, with +apparent irrelevance, almost as if speaking to himself, "that people who +make mistakes in life are punished more severely than actually +unprincipled people.--I have written to Mrs Cleave, accepting her +invitation," he continued, with a sudden change of tone. "Don't you +want some new dresses, Alys? You had not much opportunity for shopping +in Paris, after all, you know." + +"But I made the best use of what I had. I am very well stocked for the +present. If I remember anything I want I'll get Arthur to go shopping +with me to-morrow." + +To-morrow came and went, and no Arthur made his appearance. Nor was +anything seen of him the next day, or the day after that either. It was +not till the Tuesday following that he called again, two days only +before that fixed for their journey home. + +"We thought you had gone back to Hathercourt without waiting for us," +said Mr Cheviott, eyeing his cousin somewhat curiously as he spoke. +But Alys, whom Arthur's absence had hurt and disappointed more than she +would have cared to confess, said nothing; only she, too, looked at him, +and so looking, it seemed to her that his colour changed a little, and +forthwith her indignation melted away, to be replaced by anxiety and +concern. And these feelings were not decreased by his manner of +excusing himself. + +"I was afraid you would be thinking me very rude," he said, with a sort +of nervous deprecation new to him, "but I have really been very busy." + +"Then I don't think being very busy can agree with you," remarked Mr +Cheviott, "you look thoroughly done up." + +"_Have_ you been ill, Arthur?" said Alys, kindly. + +Arthur started. "Ill; oh dear, no," he exclaimed; "never was better in +my life;" but he smiled at Alys in his old way as he spoke, and seemed +grateful for her cordiality. + +But Alys was not satisfied about him. She determined to have "a good +talk" with him, and did her best to make an opportunity for it; but +somehow the opportunity never came. Neither that day nor the next, nor +the day on which they all travelled down to Withenden together could she +succeed in executing her intention. And at last it suddenly dawned upon +her that Arthur was purposely avoiding ever being alone with her, and, +hurt and perplexed, she determined to take his hint, and interfere no +more in his affairs. Girl-like, she went at once to the extreme, till, +in his turn, Captain Beverley was wounded by the marked change in her +behaviour. + +"What have I done to offend you, Alys?" he asked, one or two mornings +after their arrival at Romary, when Miss Cheviott and he happened to be +by themselves in the breakfast-room before the others had made their +appearance. + +"Nothing," said Alys; "you have done nothing, only you seem to have +changed to me, Arthur. I used to think you looked upon me quite as a +sister, and now when I see you have something on your mind, something +you should be glad to consult a sister about--and you did tell me a +little, you know, Arthur, that evening in town--you repel my sympathy, +and tell me, your _sister_, Arthur, nothing." + +She looked at him reproachfully, but his answer was scarcely what she +had expected. + +"How I wish you _were_ my sister, Alys," was all he said. + +All, perhaps, that he had time to say, for just then Mr Cheviott's step +was heard in the hall. + +"That would not make it any better," said Alys, with a sigh, in a low +voice; "if I were your sister I could not care for you more, and you +don't care for me now." + +"It isn't that," said Arthur, hastily. "I do care for you just the same +as ever, Alys, but--" + +He stopped abruptly as his cousin came in. + +CHAPTER NINE. + +"WHAT MADE THE BALL SO FINE?" + + "But come; our dance, I pray: + She dances featly." + + _A Winter's Tale_. + +The ball at Brocklehurst was this year anticipated with more than +ordinary interest. It was to be an unusually good one, said the local +authorities; all the "best" houses in the neighbourhood were to be +filled for it; the regiment at the nearest garrison town was a +deservedly popular one, and at least three recognised beauties were +expected to be present. + +All these facts were discussed with eagerness by the young people round +about Brocklehurst, to whom a ball of any kind was an event, to whom +this special ball was _the_ event of the year. And in few family +circles was it more talked about than in the isolated Rectory at +Hathercourt, by few girls was it looked forward to with more +anticipation of enjoyment than by the Western sisters. Yet it was not +the first, nor the second, nor, in the case of Lilias, the third +Brocklehurst ball even, at which they had "assisted," and only a few +weeks previous Miss Western had been seriously talking of declining for +the future to take part in the great annual festivity. And here she was +now, the week before, as interested in the question of the pretty fresh +dresses, which, by an extra turn or two of the screw of economy, the +mother had managed to provide for her girls, as if she were again a +_debutante_ of seventeen; and, more wonderful still, the excitement had +proved infectious, for Mary, sober-minded Mary, was full of it too. She +could think of little else than what Lilias was to wear, how Lilias was +to look--but for Lilias, the consideration of what _Mary_ was to wear, +how _Mary_ was to look, would have been very summarily dismissed. + +It is not easy, even with the most unselfish and "managing" of mothers, +with the most--theoretically, at least--indulgent of fathers; with two +pair of fairly clever hands, and two or three numbers of the latest +fashion books, it is not _easy_, out of what a girl like Alys Cheviott +would have thought a not extravagant price for a garden-hat, or a new +parasol, to devise for one's self a ball-dress, in which to appear with +credit to one's self and one's belongings, on such an occasion as a +Brocklehurst ball. And at first the difficulties had appeared so +insuperable that Mary had proposed that the whole of the funds should be +appropriated to the purchase of a dress for Lilias only. + +"You could get one really handsome dress--handsome of its kind, that is +to say--for what will only provide two barely wearable ones," she said, +appealingly, "and, Lilias, you should be nicely dressed for once." + +"And you?" said Lilias, aghast. + +Mary blushed, and stumbled over a proposal that she should wear some +mythical attire which "really might be made to look decent," out of the +remains of the tarletans which had already done good duty on two, if not +three previous occasions, "or," she added, still more timidly, "if you +don't think I _could_ go in that, Lilias, I don't see why I should go at +all this time. You know my pleasure, even selfishly speaking, would be +far greater if you alone were to go, _comfortably_, than if we both +went, feeling half ashamed of our clothes! It would spoil the +enjoyment--there is no use denying it, however weak-minded it sounds to +say so." + +"Of course it would," said Lilias, promptly. "I am not at all ashamed +of saying so. But I don't despair yet, Mary--only listen to me. I will +not go without you--do you hear, child?--I _won't_ go without you, and +we shall be dressed exactly alike. Your dress must be precisely and +exactly the same as mine, or I won't go. There, now you know my +decision, and you know that you'll have to give in." + +She sat down as she spoke on the side of the bed in her room, on which +was displayed such modest finery as was in their possession, and in +presence of which the weighty discussion was taking place--she sat down +on the side of the little bed, and looked Mary resolutely in the face. + +"Mary," she repeated, "you know you will have to give in." + +And Mary gave in on the spot. + +That had been three weeks ago. Now it was within two or three days of +the ball. How they had managed it, I cannot tell; what good fairy had +helped them, I cannot say--none, I suspect, but their own light hearts +and youthful energy, and love for each other--but Lilias's prophesy had +proved correct. The two dresses were ready, simple, but not shabby, +perfectly suited to their wearers. "A dress," thought Lilias, "which +must make every one see how really pretty Mary is." + +"A dress," thought Mary, "which Captain Beverley need not be afraid of +his grand friends criticising, if, as they must, they notice him dancing +with Lilias." + +They were in the midst of their admiration of the successful +achievement, when there came an interruption--a noisy knock at the door, +and Josey's noisy voice. + +"Lilias! Mary! let me in!" she exclaimed. "Mamma says you are to come +down at once. Captain Beverley's here; he has come back from London, +and has walked over all the way from Romary. Come quick!" + +Mary turned to Lilias. Lilias had grown scarlet. + +"I don't know that I shall go down," she said. "I must put away all +these things, and I wanted you to help me to fold these dresses, Mary. +But mother will be vexed if one of us does not go. Josey, send Alexa up +to help me--tell mother Mary is just coming, but that I am very busy." + +"I'll tell Captain Beverley so," said Josephine, maliciously. + +Mary said nothing, but set to work at folding the dresses, and Lilias +assisting her, they were all carefully disposed of before Alexa made her +appearance. + +"Now, Lilias, be sensible, and come down with me," said the younger +sister. "He has walked all the way from Romary, you hear, and I think +its very nice of him. He hardly expected to be able to see us again +before the ball, and it looks like affectation not to give him a cordial +reception." + +But still Lilias hesitated. + +"It isn't affectation," she said at last, "but--Mary," she went on, +suddenly breaking off her sentence, "I think it is horrid to talk of +such things before there is actually anything to talk of, but to you I +don't mind. I cannot understand Captain Beverley quite; that is why I +said I was not sure that I should go down. I don't understand why--why +he has never yet said anything definite. He has been on the verge of it +a dozen times at least, and then he has seemed to hesitate." + +Mary looked at her sister anxiously. + +"Perhaps he is not sure of _you_," she said. "You know, Lilias, what a +way you have of turning things into jest very often." + +Lilias shook her head. "No," she said, "it isn't that. He _knows_," +she hesitated, and again her fair face grew rosy, "he _knows_ I like +him. No, it is as if there were, some difficulty on his side--his +friends perhaps." + +"It can't be that," said Mary, decidedly. "He has no parents, no very +near friends. He must be free to act for himself, Lilias. I think too +highly of him to doubt it, for it has been all so entirely his own +doing--from the very first--and if he were in any way not free, it would +have been shameful;" her face darkened, and a look came into her eyes +which told that Mary Western would not be one to stand by silently and +see another wronged, whatever powers of endurance she might have on her +own account. But it cleared off again quickly, and she smiled at her +sister re-assuringly. + +"I am fanciful where you are concerned, Lilias," she said. "There is no +reason for misgiving, I feel sure. I think Captain Beverley is good and +true, and it will all be right. Come down-stairs now--mother will not +like our leaving her so long alone." + +Lilias made no further objection, and they went down together to the +drawing-room, where it would be difficult to say which of the two, Mrs +Western or Captain Beverley, was the more eagerly expecting them. + +It was only three or four days since the young man had been at the +Rectory, for the period of his mysterious absence from Miss Winstanley's +house had really, little as the Cheviotts suspected it, been spent at +Hathercourt. + +But during those three or four days he had been to town and back again, +and now he had left the Edge and taken up his quarters at Romary. A +great deal seemed to have happened in these few days, and, in her secret +heart, Lilias Western had looked forward to them as to a sort of crisis. + +"He will, probably, have been talking over things with his cousin, Mr +Cheviott," she said to herself, "and, naturally, he wishes to have some +points settled before speaking to papa or me." + +And it was, therefore, with a sort of expectancy, half hope, half +timidity, that added an indefinable charm to her whole bearing and +expression, that Lilias met her all but declared lover this afternoon. +He felt that she was more attractive than ever, "she grows lovelier +every time I see her," he said to himself, with a sigh, and then tried +to forget that he had anything to sigh about, and gave himself up to the +pleasure of being again beside her--to the consciousness that his +presence was not distasteful to her, and smothered all misgivings with a +vague, boyish confidence that, somehow or other, things would all come +right in the end. + +There could be no doubt about it--he was more devoted than ever--what +nineteenth century _preux chevalier_ could give greater proof of his +devotion than a ten miles' walk on a dull December day, for the sake of +an hour's enjoyment of his lady-love's company, and a cup of tea from +her fair hands? Yet when their guest rose to go--he had arranged, he +told them, for a dog-cart from Romary to meet him at the Edge Farm-- +Lilias was conscious of a chill of disappointment. True, he had not +been alone with her, but had he sought any opportunity of being so? And +Mr Western was at home, sitting reading, as usual, in his study; +nothing could have been more easily managed than an interview with him, +had Captain Beverley wished it. But a word or two that passed, as he +was saying good-bye, again put her but half-acknowledged misgivings to +flight. + +"Then when shall I see you again?" he said, as he held her hand in his +for an instant, unobserved in the little bustle of taking leave. + +Lilias glanced round hastily; her mother and Mary were hardly within +hearing. + +"I really cannot say," she replied, somewhat coldly, drawing her hand +away as she spoke. "I _suppose_ Mary and I will go to the ball on +Thursday, with Mrs Greville, but--" + +"Suppose," repeated Captain Beverley, hastily interrupting her. "Are +not you _sure_ of going? I should not have promised to go had I not +thought you were certain to be there." + +"Are you going to the ball from Romary?" asked Mary, coming up to where +they were standing, before Lilias had time to reply. + +"I don't know exactly," replied Captain Beverley. "I am not sure what I +shall do." + +Mary looked up in surprise, and Lilias saw the look. + +"Mary and I will have a very long drive," she said. "You know we are +going with Mrs Greville from Uxley." + +Captain Beverley's face cleared. + +"I shall get there somehow," he said, brightly, "and you must not forget +the dances you have promised me, Miss Western." And then he said +good-bye again, and really took his departure. Lilias's good spirits +did not desert her through the evening, and Mary was glad to see it, and +tried to banish the misgivings that had been left in her own mind by her +conversation with her sister. But she did not succeed in doing so quite +effectually. + +"I wonder," she said to herself--"I wonder why Captain Beverley did not +order the dog-cart to come _here_ to meet him. And I wonder, too, why +he says so little about the Cheviotts. Under the circumstances, it +would be only natural that we should know something of them--he has so +often said Miss Cheviott was just like a sister to him." + +"Miss Cheviott is to be at the ball, I suppose," she said to Lilias the +next day. "Does she count as one of the three beauties we heard about, +do you think?" + +"I suppose so," said Lilias, rather shortly. + +"Did Captain Beverley not say anything about her going?" persisted Mary. + +Lilias turned round sharply. + +"You heard all he said," she exclaimed. "He was speaking to you quite +as much as to me. I don't think he mentioned the Cheviotts at all, and +I don't care to hear about them. It is not as if they were Captain +Beverley's brother and sister." + +"I didn't mean to vex you, Lilias," said Mary, and then the subject +dropped. + +Mrs Greville was a very good sort of person to be a _chaperon_. She +was her husband's second wife, a good many years his junior, and she had +no daughters of her own. She was pretty well off, but owing to Mr +Greville's delicate health, her allowance of amusement was, even for a +clergyman's wife, moderate in the extreme, and she had very little +occupation of any kind; there were no poor people in the very well-to-do +parish of Uxley, and her two boys were at school. She liked chaperoning +the Western girls, Lilias especially, as her beauty was sure of +receiving attention, and both she and Mary were quickly grateful for a +little kindness, unexacting, and ready to be pleased. So, all things +considered, she looked forward to the Brocklehurst ball with scarcely +less eagerness then the sisters themselves. + +"I am so pleased that you have got such pretty dresses this year," said +Mrs Greville, when she and her charges found themselves fairly launched +on the eventful evening. She had chartered the roomiest of the +Withenden flys, as much less damaging to their attire during a seven +miles' drive than her own little pill-box, in which, carefully wrapped +in innumerable mufflers and overcoats, Mr Greville followed meekly +behind. "Yes, I am particularly pleased you have got such pretty +dresses, for I quite think it is going to be a very brilliant ball. You +have heard that there are to be three beauties--_noted_ beauties, have +you not? There's young Mrs Heron-Wyvern, the bride, you know; she is +of Spanish origin; her father was a General Monte something or other, +and they say she is lovely; and Sir Thomas Fforde's niece, Miss--oh, I +always forget names, but she is very pretty--handsome, rather--she is +not so very young; and then there is Miss Cheviott of Romary. I have +not seen her since she was quite a little girl, but she was pretty then, +even." + +"Are the Cheviotts at Romary now?" asked Mary, when she got a chance of +speaking. + +"Oh, yes, I believe so, and very much liked, I hear," replied Mrs +Greville. "There was an impression that Mr Cheviott was stiff and +`stuck up,' but I believe it's not at all the case when you know him. I +hear Romary is likely to be one of the pleasantest houses in the county. +I dare say Miss Cheviott will be making some grand match before long, +though I _have_ heard--" + +But just at this moment the sudden rattle of the wheels upon the +unmistakable cobble stones of Brocklehurst High Street distracted Mrs +Greville's attention. + +"Here we are, I declare!" she exclaimed, "How quickly we seem to have +come! I do hope the brougham is close behind, for Mr Greville has all +the tickets;" and, in the bustle that ensued, what she had heard as to +Miss Cheviott's prospects or intentions was never revealed. + +They were very early. Mrs Greville liked to be early, "to see all the +people come in." Hitherto, on such occasions, this weakness of her +friend had been a sore trial to Lilias, but this year, for reasons of +her own, she had made no objections to it, and had not, as formerly, +exhausted her energies in search of some cleverly-laid scheme for making +Mrs Greville late in spite of herself. And if Lilias was content, it +never occurred to Mary to be anything else; so they all sat down +together "in a nice corner out of the draught," and listened to the +discordant preliminaries of the band, and watched the gradually filling +of the bare, chilly rooms, two hearts among the four caring for little +but the confidently looked-for approach of a tall, manly figure, with a +bright fair face, to claim his partner for the first two dances. + +But time wore on; the first quadrille was a thing of the past, and still +Lilias and Mary sat decorously beside their _chaperon_, each thinking to +herself that "surely the Romary party was very late." But when the +second dance, a Waltt, had also come to an end, Lilias's air changed; a +proud flush of colour overspread her cheeks, and when Frank Bury, a +Withenden curate of rather unclerical tastes, but decided in his +admiration for Miss Western, begged for "the honour of the third dance," +she accepted at once--so much more amiably, and with so much sweeter +smiles than usual, that the poor young man grew crimson with +astonishment and delight. Mary longed, yet dared not, to interfere; +there was "a look" in Lilias's face as she walked away on Frank Bury's +arm that made Mary's heart burn with anxiety for the possible issues of +this evening. + +"Oh," said she, to herself, "if he were to come just now and think she +would not wait for him!" + +And she sat still in fear and trembling, longing for, yet dreading +Captain Beverley's appearance. + +The dance was not half over when there came a little bustle at the +principal door-way. Those nearest it stood back, and even through the +music one discerned a slight hush of expectancy. Some new-comers were +at hand; new-comers, too, of evident importance. Mrs Greville's ears +and eyes were equally wide awake. + +"The Cleavelands party," she whispered to Mary, "and I hear all the +three beauties come with them! The Heron-Wyverns are staying there, and +so are the Ffordes, and the Cheviotts. It looks as if it had been +arranged on purpose to make a sensation." + +Mary would have cared little but for one thought. "Then there has been +no party at Romary?" she asked. + +"I suppose not--evidently not, for see, there is Mr Cheviott coming +into the room with Sir Thomas's niece on his arm--what a handsome +couple! but he has a forbidding expression. Then that must be the +bride, I suppose--oh, yes, look, Mary, she is going to dance with her +husband, young Heron-Wyvern--he has reddish hair--and how, I wonder what +has become of the third beauty, Miss Cheviott." + +But at this moment an acquaintance of Mrs Greville happening to take +the vacant seat on her other side, her attention was distracted, and +Mary's eyes were left free to roam in search of one familiar figure. +Her heart was beating fast with excitement and anxiety, her sight surely +was growing confused, for could _that_ be he? Over on the other side, +through a bewilderment of faces, she espied the one she was in search +of, gazing about in quest of Lilias, or disconsolately observing her +defalcation. Ah no, Captain Beverley's face was bent to meet the +upturned glance of a beautiful woman on his arm she was smiling up at +him; he, down upon her, "just," thought Mary, with a thrill of something +very nearly approaching agony, "_just_ as I have seen him look at Lilias +hundreds of times." Never had he appeared to greater advantage, never +had his fair, handsome face looked brighter or more attractive--and the +lady--yes, in another instant, Mary was sure of it, recognised fully the +slight, graceful figure, the peculiar "set" of the haughty little head, +and the glance of the pretty violet eyes. Yes, they were nearer her +now, the young lady was his cousin, the beautiful Miss Cheviott! In +another instant his arm was round her waist, they were dancing together. +And Mary, for the first time in her life, felt as if it might be +possible to _hate_ good-natured Mrs Greville, when a succession of +lady-like nudges having compelled her attention, her _chaperon_ +whispered, triumphantly, "Look, Mary, quick, child, or you won't see +them--_there_ is Miss Cheviott, isn't she lovely? And she is dancing +with her cousin, Captain Beverley. And Mr Knox tells me--he has just +heard it on the best authority--they are _engaged_ to each other." + +"You forget that I know Captain Beverley," Mary could not help +rejoining, coldly; "he has called at the Rectory several times when he +has been staying at the Edge Farm." + +"Ah, yes, to be sure. I wish he would come and ask you to dance," said +Mrs Greville, carelessly. + +But Mary felt as if "the dance had all gone out of her." Her mental +tremors now took a new form--dread of her sister's return, and, more in +cowardice than because she had the slightest wish to move, she accepted +Mr Greville's offer of a convoy across the room "for a change; Mr Knox +will look after my wife till your sister comes back," he said, +good-naturedly. + +"Across the room," Mary met with an unexpected invitation to "join the +dance." The major of the 210th was an old friend of Mr Greville's, and +being a quiet, retiring man, the number of his acquaintances at +Brocklehurst was not large. He did not care much about dancing, but +after chatting to Mr Greville for a minute or two, he discovered that +the girl on his friend's arm had a nice face and an undoubtedly +beautiful pair of eyes, and, before Mary knew what she was about, she +was dancing with Major Throckmorton, and engaged to him for the +quadrille to follow. Between the dances her partner proposed that they +should walk up and down the long corridor into which the ball-room +opened, and Mary, caring little--so completely were her thoughts +absorbed with Lilias--where she went, absently agreed. Major +Throckmorton was so shy himself that he naturally attributed to the same +cause the peculiarity of the young lady's manner, and liked her none the +less on account of it. But before the quadrille had reached the end of +its first figure, his theory had received a shock. For suddenly his +partner's whole manner changed. She smiled, and talked, and laughed, +and seemed interested; where before he had only succeeded in extracting +the most indistinct of monosyllables, she now answered with intelligence +and perfect self-possession, hazarding observations of her own in a way +which proved her to be by no means the timid, ill-assured country maiden +he had imagined her. + +"What a curiously changeable girl!" he said to himself. "Five minutes +ago I did not feel sure that she took in the sense of a word I said to +her, and now she is as composed and rational as possible, and evidently +a well-educated girl. What queer creatures women are!" + +His glance ran down the lines of faces opposite them. Among them one +arrested his attention. "What a beautiful girl," he exclaimed; "the +most beautiful in the room, in my opinion. Do you happen to know who +she is, Miss Western?" + +Mary's eyes followed willingly in the direction he pointed out--whither, +indeed, they had already been frequently wandering--and her whole face +lighted up with a happy smile. + +"_Do_ you think her the most beautiful girl in the room?" she said. "I +am so glad, for she is my sister. Do you know the gentleman she is +dancing with?" + +Major Throckmorton glanced at Lilias's partner. "No," he said, "I don't +think I do. I know so few people here. He is a good-looking fellow, +and," he hesitated, and glanced again in Miss Western's direction, then +added with a kindly smile, "it is evident _he_ would agree with my +opinion as to who is the most beautiful girl in the room." + +Mary smiled too, and blushed a little, and decided that her partner was +one of the pleasantest men she had ever met. And poor Major +Throckmorton thought how pretty she looked when she blushed, and said to +himself that before long, very probably, some other fellow would be +appropriating her, as her beautiful sister evidently was already +appropriated, and he sighed to think that, not withstanding his eighteen +years' service, such good luck had never yet come in _his_ way! For it +was a case of "uncommonly little besides his pay," and beautiful girls +were not for such as he. + +CHAPTER TEN. + +THROWING DOWN THE GAUNTLET. + + "The marvel dies, and leaves me fool'd and trick'd. + And only wondering wherefore play'd upon! + And doubtful whether I and mine be scorn'd." + + _Gareth and Lynette_. + +Major Throckmorton took Mary back to Mrs Greville, and after engaging +her for another dance, later in the evening, strolled away again, +considerably to her satisfaction, for she was now as anxious to see +Lilias, and hear the explanation of Captain Beverley's inconsistent +behaviour, as she had before been to avoid her. + +"Have you seen Lilias?" she asked Mrs Greville, eagerly, for no Lilias +was as yet at the rendezvous. "She was near us in that last quadrille, +but then, somehow, I lost sight of her in the crowd." + +"She is very content, wherever she is, I can assure you," said Mrs +Greville, significantly. "I don't fancy either you or I will see much +more of her for the rest of the evening. It is as clear as daylight," +she went on. "Why didn't you tell me, Mary?" + +"Tell you what, dear Mrs Greville?" said Mary, opening her eyes, and +rather taken aback. + +"Of course you know. Don't pretend you do not," said Mrs Greville, +good-humouredly. "Of course I mean about Captain Beverley's +unmistakable admiration for Lilias. No one could have doubted it who +saw the way he came up after that dance with Frank Bury. She looked +cold and haughty enough at first, but he whispered something that put it +all right, I could see. And only fancy Mr Knox telling me he was +engaged to Miss Cheviott!" + +"But," said Mary, hesitatingly, and blushing a little as she spoke, +"Lilias isn't--there is nothing settled; they are not _engaged_." + +"Oh! I dare say not publicly, at present, but of course such attention +as he is paying her to-night will soon make it public. I am so +delighted--such a capital thing it will be for you all--I cannot tell +you how pleased--but, hush! here they come," said Mrs Greville, +stopping abruptly. + +And Mary, looking round, saw Lilias close at hand, and what a Lilias! +Sunshine seemed to be playing about her, so bright and sweet and happy +did she look--flushed not merely with her own inner consciousness of +happiness, but with an innocent sense of triumph that her lover had been +tested, and not found wanting; that in the eyes of all the assembled +"somebodies" of Meadshire he was eager to do her homage; she felt that +she had reason to be proud of him! + +He only stayed to shake hands with Mary, and then hurried off, with a +parting reminder to Lilias of her promise for the next dance but one. +For the very next she was already engaged to a brother in arms of Major +Throckmorton, and there was little time for any conversation between the +sisters. Only Lilias whispered it was "all right." "He" had explained +why he was so late, and she was engaged to him for two more dances. +Mary might feel quite happy about her. But was Mary enjoying herself +too? she inquired, anxiously, as her partner appeared to carry her off. +And in the sight of that radiant young face Mary could indeed with all +honesty reply that she was. She would have thought and believed it the +most charming ball in the world, even if she had spent the whole evening +on the bench in the corner of the room beside Mrs Greville; and this +would have been far more amusing than having to dance with Mr Bury, +which she was now obliged to do. For the poor young man's high spirits +had suddenly deserted him; he was extremely depressed, not to say cross, +and Mary, knowing the cause of the change, could not but find it in her +heart to pity him, though her relief was great when her penance was +over. She danced next with Frank's elder brother, an occasional visitor +only to the Brocklehurst part of the world, and a fairly amusing +partner, and as Lilias and Captain Beverley were their _vis-a-vis_, Mary +enjoyed the quadrille exceedingly. + +A little further down the room a set composed entirely of the +Cleavelands party attracted her attention. There stood the "three +beauties" in close proximity. Mary glanced at them again and again, and +once or twice it seemed to her that she and her sister were the objects +of attention to some members of the party. That Miss Cheviott gazed +admiringly at Lilias, and made some remark about her to her partner, +Mary felt sure, and thought it not surprising; but, besides this, she +two or three times caught Mr Cheviott's observant eyes fixed on her +sister and herself with a curious expression, which half annoyed her. +And once, in turning suddenly, she fancied that Captain Beverley, too, +noticed this peculiar expression with which his cousin was regarding +them, and, Mary felt by instinct, resented it. + +"You should by rights be dancing over there, should you not?" a sudden +impulse urged her to say to her sister's partner, when one of the +figures in the dance brought them for an instant into juxtaposition. + +"Over where?" he asked, the next time they met. + +Mary bent her head slightly in the direction of the Cleavelands "set," +but she had not time to see how Captain Beverley liked her explanation. +His answer was reserved for the next round.--It was quite ready. + +"What could have put such an idea into your head?" he said, not without +a touch of haughtiness in his tone. "I am perfectly free to dance where +and with whom I choose." + +Mary smiled, but in her heart she felt a slight uneasiness. The bloom +seemed by this little incident to have been rubbed off her satisfaction. + +"It will be disagreeable for Lilias," she said to herself, "if his +friends are in any way prejudiced against her. She is so proud, too; +she would never go out of her way to win them." + +Thus thought Mary when she again found herself in her corner by Mrs +Greville. Her dances, so far as she knew, were over for the evening, +but Lilias had not yet returned to her _chaperon's_ wing. Mrs Greville +was beginning to wonder what o'clock it was. + +"Not that I am in the least tired," she said. "As long as Lilias is +enjoying herself I am quite pleased to stay, and you, too, my dear. Are +you not going to dance any more?" + +"I think not," Mary was replying when a voice behind her made her start. + +"Miss Western," it said, "if you are not engaged for this dance, may I +have the honour of it?" + +The voice was not altogether unfamiliar, when had she heard it before? +It was not an unpleasing voice, though its tone was cold and very +formal. Mary looked up; there, before her, stood Mr Cheviott. + +In utter amazement, Mary partially lost her head. She rose +mechanically, and, murmuring something in the shape of an assent, took +Mr Cheviott's arm, and had passed some little way down the room before +she quite realised what she was doing. Then it all flashed upon her; +the extreme oddness of the whole proceeding, and she grew confused and +uneasy in trying to think how otherwise she should have done. Mr +Cheviott had never been introduced to her! Those two or three words in +the church porch two months ago were all that had ever passed between +them. Yet his manner had been perfectly, even formally respectful, and +the glow of indignation that had mounted to Mary's cheeks at the mere +notion of anything but respect being shown to her father's daughter, +faded as quickly away. One glance at Mr Cheviott's grave, preoccupied +face was enough completely to dispel it, and she, thereupon, solved the +enigma in another manner. It was all on Lilias's account! Mr +Cheviott, doubtless in his cousin's confidence, wished, naturally +enough, to know something of her relations, and had, with almost +unconscious disregard of conventionality, chosen this way of making +friends. On second thoughts, Mary quite decided that she liked him all +the better for it, and congratulated herself that her instincts had been +in the right, that she had not, with misplaced prudery, chilled and +repelled his first overtures of kindliness and interest. + +It was a round dance, but Mr Cheviott marched on down the room as if +perfectly oblivious that dancing of any kind was in question. Suddenly +he stopped. + +"Do you like balls?" he asked, abruptly. + +"I don't _dis_like them," answered Mary, quietly. + +Mr Cheviott, in spite of himself, smiled, and Mary, looking up, was +again struck, as she had been the first time she saw him, by the effect +of a smile on his somewhat sombre countenance. + +"That is, and isn't, an answer to my question," he said. "Perhaps I +should have worded it differently, and said, `do you like dancing?'" + +"Sometimes," said Mary, quietly still. + +Mr Cheviott smiled again. + +"One thing, I see, you do _not_ like," he said, "and that is, being +catechised. I asked you if you liked dancing because, I fear, I do not +dance well, and if you were _fanatica_ on the subject I should be afraid +of displeasing you. However, suppose we try?" + +He did not dance badly, but with a certain indifference which Mary found +provoking. This, and a suspicion of patronising in his last words, +inspirited her to take a different tone. + +"I do not think you dance ill," she said, when they stopped, "but any +one could tell that you do not care about it." + +"How?" he said, if truth be told, ever so slightly nettled--for what man +likes to be "damned with faint praise," by a girl in her teens, whoever +she may be? + +"Oh I can't tell you. It would be quite different if you liked it. +There is no _verve_ in your dancing," she replied. + +She could see he was annoyed, and somehow she was not sorry for it. He +took refuge again in a patronising tone. + +"Do you speak French?" he inquired, with a slight air of surprise. + +"Do you speak Italian?" she retorted. + +"Why do you ask?" he said, coolly. "Are you offended by my inferring a +possibility of your _not_ speaking French?" + +"No," she replied; "but I thought it an uncalled-for question. You used +an Italian word just now for the same reason, probably, that I used a +French one--that we could not find an English word to express our +meaning equally well--" + +"The only reason," interrupted Mr Cheviott, eagerly, "that can ever +excuse one's doing so." + +"But," continued Mary, "you did not give me the credit of this good +reason, as I did you. I did not suppose you used an Italian word for +the sake of showing off that you knew Italian." + +"And I said nothing to lead you to suppose that I thought you were +wanting to show off your French," retorted Mr Cheviott, laughing a +little in spite of himself, and yet manifestly annoyed. "I was only--a +little--surprised, perhaps." + +"Why?" asked Mary. "Is it so unusual nowadays to find people who have +learned French?" + +"Oh dear, no, of course not; but I understood you had been brought up +very quietly, and had always lived in the country, and all that sort of +thing. I don't want to offend you, but very probably you would be more +offended if I did not answer you plainly." + +"Very probably," said Mary, smiling. "But don't you see that just +because we have lived so quietly as you say, we have had the more time +for `lessons'? And there were grave reasons why, in our case, we should +learn all we could--practical reasons, I mean." + +Mr Cheviott did not at once reply; he seemed as if reflecting over what +she had said. + +"I wonder what he is thinking about," thought Mary. "He must know we +are poor. We have made no secret of it to Captain Beverley." + +"Shall we try again?" said Mr Cheviott, suddenly. "If I do my best, +there is no saying but that, in time, I may catch a little of your +_verve_, Miss Western." + +"You think I have a superabundance of it," said Mary, good-humouredly; +and, "Yes," she added, when they stopped again, "that is better, +decidedly." + +But again the look of preoccupation had come over Mr Cheviott's face; +he did not seem elated by her praise. + +"Your sister likes dancing too, I suppose?" he said, after a little +pause. + +"Yes," replied Mary, "she is very fond of it, and she dances very well." + +"I dare say she does," said Mr Cheviott, "but she is too tall to dance +with most men. I see," he added, slowly, as if he had some little +difficulty in going on with what he had to say--"I see she has been +dancing a good deal with my cousin, Captain Beverley. _He_ dances very +well, in fact, better than he does anything else, I was going to say." + +Something in the words and tone roused Mary's ire. + +"I don't see that dancing well need prevent a man's doing other things +well too," she observed, coldly. + +Mr Cheviott raised his eyebrows; he was quite his usual self again now, +cool and collected, and satisfied that he was going to have the best of +it. + +"I quite agree with you," he replied, dryly. + +"Then," said Mary, getting more angry, "why should you praise Captain +Beverley's dancing in that sort of way, as if you were _dis_praising +everything else he does? I think he has it in him to do many things +well--more, probably, than have as yet come in his way." + +"I dare say you are quite right," said Mr Cheviott. "For a man," +pursued Mary, somewhat mollified, "he is still very young." + +"Peculiarly so," said Mr Cheviott; "he is very young for his actual +years. You must have seen a good deal of him, Miss Western, to judge +him so correctly." + +"I have said very little about him," said Mary, bluntly, looking up in +her companion's face with a questioning expression in her eyes, before +which Mr Cheviott quailed a little--yet what pretty, gentle, brown eyes +they were!--"but I _have_ seen a good deal of him," she went on, +frankly. "He has been a great deal with us lately, while he was staying +at the Edge Farm, you know." + +Almost as she pronounced the words, she became conscious of the +annoyance they were causing her companion, and she felt that her worst +misgivings were realised. "Why did I dance with him?" was the first +form in which her hot indignation expressed itself in her thoughts. + +"Yes," replied Mr Cheviott, coldly, "I heard that Mr and Mrs Western +had been very hospitable to my cousin, and no doubt he is very grateful +to them. He is an extremely sociable person--cannot bear being alone. +As you have seen so much of him, Miss Western, I dare say you have +discovered that he is very impulsive and impressionable, very ready to +amuse himself, without the least thought of the after consequences." + +Mary remained perfectly silent. + +"You agree with me?" said Mr Cheviott. "I am very glad of it, for I +see you will not misunderstand me. There are some kinds of knowledge +not so easily acquired as French," he added, with an attempt at carrying +off what he had been saying lightly, "but I see your good sense stands +you in lieu of what is commonly called knowledge of the world, and--and, +for your sister's sake especially, I am very glad indeed that you have +so much perception." He did not look at Mary as he spoke, but now she +suddenly turned towards him, and he was obliged to face her. Every ray +of their usually pretty colour had faded out of her cheeks; she looked +so very pale that for an instant he thought she was going to faint, and +a quick rush of pity for the poor child momentarily obliterated all +other considerations. But Mary saw the softening expression that came +over his face, and smiled slightly, but bitterly. And then Mr Cheviott +saw that her paleness was not that of timidity or ordinary agitation, +but of intense, wrathful indignation, and he thereupon hardened his +heart. + +"Why," said Mary, after a little pause, and her voice, though low, was +distinct and clear--"why, may I ask, do you say that it is especially on +my sister's account that you are glad to find that I possess what you so +kindly call so much power of perception?" + +Her words, to herself even, sounded stilted and almost absurd, but, had +she tried to speak easily and naturally, she felt that in some way she +would have broken down. And Mr Cheviott did not notice the stiltedness +of her tone and speech; cool as he looked he was feeling intensely +uncomfortable, and little inclined to see any humorous side to the +situation. + +"I would rather not say why," he replied, "and, besides, it's +unnecessary. You would, afterwards, regret asking me to say more than I +have done." + +"But having said so much, supposing I _insist_ on your saying more," +said Mary, unwisely. "Supposing I tell my father, and that he asks you +to explain why you have spoken to me this way--supposing--" she stopped, +for her voice failed her. Anger inclines some women to tears more +readily than grief! + +Mr Cheviott smiled; it was, in reality, a nervous, uneasy smile, but +Mary thought it insulting and insufferable. + +"Miss Western," he said, "you are really exciting yourself about nothing +at all. I do not think that any reasonable person would see cause of +offence in the two or three remarks I have made about my cousin, and, +fortunate as he is in possessing so eager an advocate as yourself, it is +impossible you can know him as well as I do. But I think we have +discussed him quite sufficiently, and, in _my_ opinion at least, the +less said the better." + +He looked at her with a sort of veiled inquiry. Mary stood perfectly +silent. It was true; she had been _very_ foolish, very undignified to +have expressed herself as vehemently as she had done; she had no right +to resent Mr Cheviott's hinted warnings, for Arthur Beverley had _not_ +committed himself in such a way as to give her any. "Oh," she thought, +"if I could but look up in his face and say, `Your cousin is engaged to +my sister, and I decline to hear anything you have to say about him; +your opinion has not, and never will be asked,' oh, how different it all +would be! How different it _will_ be when it is all settled, and no one +can interfere!" But in the mean time; yes, certainly, the less said the +better. + +She felt that she trusted Captain Beverley, even now; already she felt +that Mr Cheviott's opinion was of no _real_ consequence, and she could +afford to despise it, much as, for Lilias's sake she regretted that the +connection was not likely to find favour in the eyes of Arthur's proud +relations. + +"But that will not _really_ matter," she repeated to herself, and, +fortified with this reflection, she turned quietly to reply to Mr +Cheviott's last speech. + +"Yes," she said, "I was very foolish to take up your remarks about your +cousin so hotly. For, though I have known him such a short time, I +think, in some ways, I already know him far better than you do. And now +I shall be obliged if you will take me back to my friends." + +She looked up in Mr Cheviott's face with fearless eyes, and no trace of +agitation, but a somewhat deeper colour than usual in her cheeks, and +the shadow of a quiver on her lips. But Mr Cheviott read her rightly; +the gauntlet of defiance was thrown down, and her resolution staggered +him. + +"_Can_ they be already really engaged?" he said to himself. "I could +almost find it in my heart to wish they were, to get rid of all this! +How unbearable it is--how horribly I am, and must be, misunderstood, +even by this girl!" + +And as he escorted Mary across the room, and, with a formal bow, +deposited her in her old corner beside Mrs Greville, he made no effort +to hide his gloom and annoyance. For the moment a species of +recklessness seemed to have taken possession of him; he felt as if he +cared little what was said or thought of him. + +"Even Alys," he thought to himself, "when, or if, she comes to hear of +my attempt at interference, will find no words hard enough for me. Why +can't a man start clear in life, I wonder, without being weighted with +the follies of those before him?" + +Mrs Greville was all excitement and curiosity. + +"My goodness, Mary," she exclaimed, "wonders will never cease! Lilias's +conquest is nothing to yours. Mr Cheviott of Romary himself! You are +very cunning, you naughty child; you never even told me you knew him." + +"I hardly do know him. I would not have danced with him if he had not +asked me so suddenly that I had not presence of mind enough to refuse," +explained Mary. + +"And why should you have refused? Of course, as I say, you have made a +conquest. Why should you be ashamed of it?" said Mrs Greville. + +"It is not that, it is nothing of the kind, I _assure_ you, Mrs +Greville," said Mary, deeply annoyed. "Dear Mrs Greville," she went +on, beseechingly, "I do beg you not to say any more about it. There is +Lilias coming, _please_ don't say anything about it." + +Mrs Greville saw she was in earnest, and gave in. "But you are the +strangest girl I ever came across," she added, with a tone of +good-natured annoyance. + +Then Lilias came up, on Captain Beverley's arm, and Mrs Greville's +attention was distracted. + +"I am not going to dance any more," she said, smiling. "I am quite +ready to go home now, Mrs Greville, if you like, and poor Mary looks +tired to death." + +"And poor Mrs Greville must be tireder still, as Francie says," said +Mary, trying to laugh, and look as usual. "Yes, I think we should be +going." + +"Good-night, Captain Beverley," said Lilias, disengaging her hand from +his arm. + +But he would not allow it. + +"You will let me see you to your carriage," he said, in a low voice. +"You have no other gentleman with you." And Lilias made no further +objection. + +And Mary, as they crossed the room, thus escorted, said to herself that +she hoped Mr Cheviott's eyes were edified by the spectacle. Yet she +was conscious of a sudden tremor when, close to the door, hemmed in for +a moment or two by the stream of departing guests, which had already +begun to flow, they came upon the object of her thoughts. He was +standing looking the other way, with a lady on his arm, and as she +approached them nearly, Mary saw that the lady was his sister. She +happened to turn at this moment, and her glance fell on the advancing +group. Instantly a smile lit up her beautiful face, a smile, there +could be no manner of doubt, of hearty, pleased recognition. Mary +happened to be the nearest to her, and Miss Cheviott leaned slightly +forward. + +"How do you do, Miss Western?" she said, brightly. "I have been seeing +you and your sister in the distance all the evening, but never near +enough to speak to you. Have you enjoyed the ball? I think it has been +such a nice one." + +Mary murmured something in the way of answer, but her words were all but +inaudible. The grateful glance of her brown eyes, however, was not lost +upon Alys. + +"What nice good eyes that second Miss Western has?" she observed to her +brother, when they were out of hearing. "But she does not look as well +as she did; she was quite pale, and her eyes had a troubled look." + +"What did you speak to her for?" said Mr Cheviott, gruffly, "there was +no reason for it, and--you cannot have forgotten what I said about the +Westerns, Alys?" + +"Forgotten; no. Of course, I remember your saying I was not to call on +them and make friends with them, but as for not speaking to them when we +were jammed up close together in a door-way no, I certainly _had_ +forgotten that you wished me to be unkind and uncivil, Laurence," +replied Alys, with considerable indignation. + +And Mr Cheviott thought it wisest to hold his peace. His sister was +evidently in ignorance of the apparently glaring inconsistency of which +he himself had been guilty in not only speaking to, but actually dancing +with the younger Miss Western, and devoutly he hoped that in this +desirable ignorance she might remain. But there was no saying how she +might come to hear of it, and, therefore, the less said on the disputed +subject the better. + +There was silence for some time in the fly containing Mrs Greville and +her two young friends, as it wended its slow way back to Hathercourt. +Mrs Greville was tired, and a little anxious about the effects of the +cold night air on her husband; Lilias was absorbed in a content which +asked not for words; Mary--poor Mary, was suffering from a strange +complication of discomfort. Indignation, mortification, fear, hope, +defiance, and intense anxiety chased each other round, her brain. It +was a relief when Lilias spoke. + +"We are very selfish, dear Mrs Greville," she said, suddenly--"at +least, I am; Mary is never selfish. I have never thanked you for taking +us to-night and being so kind; I have enjoyed it so much, and I do thank +you so sincerely." + +Notwithstanding the heartiness and cordiality, there was an indefinable +something in the tones of the pretty voice which effectually stifled any +expression of curiosity on Mrs Greville's part. Whether or not Lilias +had anything to tell, there and then it was evident she had no intention +of telling it, so Mrs Greville just answered, kindly: + +"I am very glad you have had a pleasant evening. It is always a +pleasure to me to take you." + +And in a few minutes more the fly stopped at the Rectory gate. + +There was no one sitting up for them. That had been a proviso of +Lilias's, and, in spite of Alexa's entreaties and "mother's" misgivings, +Lilias had carried the day. + +"We are sure to come home sleepy, and cross, and dilapidated-looking +after a seven miles' drive. Do all go to bed comfortably and wait to +hear our adventures till the morning," she said; and Mary, as they let +themselves quietly in with a latch-key, felt what a comfort it was that +there were no anxious questioning eyes to meet. + +Since Basil's departure, Mary had taken possession of his little room, +leaving Lilias sole mistress of what had formerly been their joint +quarters. But to-night she lingered long beside her sister, making one +excuse after another for not leaving her room. + +"But Mary, dear, you must really go to bed now," said Lilias, at last; +"don't trouble about putting away anything till the morning." + +"Yes," agreed Mary, "I'm going now. Good-night, Lilias. You said you +had enjoyed the ball very much--I'm so glad you did. But, Lilias," she +added, wistfully, "I wish you would tell me--you don't mind my asking, +do you?--is--is anything _settled_--explained, I mean?" Lilias's cheeks +flushed. + +"It is all right," she said, hastily--"I am _sure_ it is all right. +There is nothing to explain; I trust him thoroughly, and--and I don't +mind its not being what you call `settled' just yet. It is nice keeping +it just to ourselves." + +"Only," said Mary, with some reluctance, "it _isn't_ being kept to +yourselves. Every one must have noticed him to-night, and that was why +I was so anxious to hear if it was all understood and settled." + +"Then _don't_ be anxious any more," said Lilias, re-assuringly, as she +kissed her--"_I_ am not; I could not be happier than I am. But I +understand your feeling--I would have it for you, I dare say. Just set +your mind at rest; you may ask me about it again--let me see--yes, this +time to-morrow, if you like, and I think I shall be able to satisfy +you." + +"`In to-day already walks to-morrow,'" said Mary, laughing. "_My_ +`spirit' is `striding on before the event,' anyway, and the best thing I +can do is to let you go to sleep. Kiss me again, Lilias; it's to-morrow +already, you know." + +"I wish Lilias hadn't said that about this time to-morrow," she thought +to herself. "I wish she were not so confident, and yet how can she be +less so if she trusts him? How could I _bear_ to see her trust broken?" + +CHAPTER ELEVEN. + +A CUL-DE-SAC. + + "... It became a proverb, when what ought to be your election was + forced upon you, to say, `Hobson's choice.'" + + _Spectator, Number 509_. + +There was silence in the Romary carriage too as it made its way home, +with considerably more speed than the Withenden fly, after the ball. It +had been arranged that Mr Cheviott and his sister were not to return to +Cleavelands that evening, but to drive straight back to Romary, and it +had been arranged, too, that Captain Beverley should accompany them. +Arthur would not, on the whole, have been sorry to upset this plan, but +there was no help for it. As to how much, or how little of his conduct +in the ball-room, had been observed by his cousins, he was in ignorance, +and he fancied that he did not care. He told himself that he had acted +with deliberate intention, that it was best to bring matters to a +crisis, and have done at all costs with the restraint which of late he +had found so unendurable; but in so speaking to himself he was not +stating the real facts of the case. From first to last his behaviour to +Lilias Western had been the result of no reflection or consideration; he +had never fairly looked his position in the face, and made up his mind +as to what he was justified in doing, or how far he had a right to go; +he had simply yielded to the charm of her society, and thrown care to +the winds, trusting, like a child, that somehow or other things would +come right--something would "turn up." + +And it was the secret consciousness of the defencelessness of such +conduct that made him uneasy in Mr Cheviott's presence, and made him +dread the explanation which he now fully realised must shortly take +place between them. + +Alys's mood, as respects the Western sisters, was, as has been seen, +verging on the defiant. Yet a quick sensitiveness to the unexpressed +state of feelings of her two companions warned her that, at present, any +allusion to the subject was best avoided. + +"I will stand by Arthur if he is in earnest," she said to herself, +resolutely, "and were Laurence twenty times over my elder brother I +would _not_ support him in any narrow-minded piece of class-prejudice, +or interference with Arthur's right to please himself. But if I am to +do any good I must first be sure that Arthur _is_ in earnest, and, till +then, I had better take care how I irritate Laurence by meddling." + +So Alys cogitated, lying back in her corner of the carriage, and saying +nothing. + +Suddenly Mr Cheviott's voice roused her; to her surprise he spoke very +cheerfully. + +"Well, Alys, are you very tired? I think it was a mistake of the +Cleaves to have that carpet dance last night. It prevented our feeling +as fresh as might have been the case to-night." + +"Yes," said Alys, "I think it was. But I did not feel tired, except +just at first, and then I was all right again." + +"Carpet dances are _always_ a mistake," observed Captain Beverley, +rousing himself with some effort to join in the conversation. "People +talk rubbish about their being more `enjoyable'--what an odious word +`enjoyable' is!--than any others, but it's all nonsense. They take more +out of one than twenty balls." + +"I don't think last night could have taken much out of you, Arthur. You +danced so little--not half as much as to-night," said Alys, +thoughtlessly. + +"No," said Mr Cheviott, markedly, "not a quarter as much, I should +say." + +Arthur said nothing, and Alys, feeling rather guilty, tried to lead the +conversation into safer channels. In this she might not have succeeded +had not her brother done his best to help her. But Arthur remained +silent, and all three were glad when at last the long drive was over and +the carriage turned in at the Romary gates. + +"Good-night, Alys," said Mr Cheviott at once, and Alys obediently +kissed him and said good-night. + +"Good-night, Arthur," she said, lingeringly. She felt so sorry for +Arthur somehow; she would so have liked to have seen him by himself for +a few minutes. + +"Good-night, dear," he replied, but without any of his usual sunny +brightness. And Alys felt sure she heard him sigh, as, in accordance +with Mr Cheviott's suggestion that they might as well have a cigar +before going to bed, he followed his cousin into the library. + +"Laurence is going to give him a `talking to,' as the boys say," thought +Alys, as she went slowly up-stairs. "And what has he done to deserve +it, and why should he submit to it? Unless, indeed, he is _not_ in +earnest, and only amusing himself, and that Laurence knows it--but I'm +sure it is not that. I cannot understand Arthur. I never before +thought him wanting in spirit." + +But the more she reflected, the more puzzled she grew, so Alys, not +being deficient in common sense, decided that she could do no good by +sitting up and tiring herself. She undressed and went to bed, and to +sleep; but, though not a principal in the drama which was being enacted +in her sight, her dreams that night were scarcely less disturbed and +troubled than those of another even more intensely interested spectator, +eight or nine miles off. On the whole, _Lilias's_ sleep that night was +far more peaceful than that of her sister Mary, or of Alys Cheviott. + +For Lilias's heart was full of faith and hope, and to such dreamers +there come no uneasy visions. + +Mr Cheviott led the way through the library into his own private +sitting-room beyond. The fire had been carefully attended to, and was +blazing brightly; the room looked a picture of comfort. Many and many a +time Arthur would have liked nothing better than an hour's _tete-a-tete_ +over their pipes with his cousin--the cousin who, to him, represented +father and brother in one--to whom he owed all that he had ever known of +"home" and its saving associations, "all the good that was in him," as +he himself had often expressed it, for Laurence's care and affection for +the boy had been great, and he had exerted them wisely. He had won +Arthur's confidence and respect; he had never so acted as to cause him +to fret and chafe under what, in less judicious hands, he might have +been made to feel an unnatural authority. + +And not a small part of Captain Beverley's present discomfort arose from +the consciousness of having deeply disappointed his cousin. He told +himself he had done no wrong, but he knew he had, thoughtlessly and +impulsively, done that, or been on the point of doing that, which would +greatly add to the difficulties and perplexities of a life much of which +had been devoted to his welfare. + +And acknowledging even thus much, where was the gratitude he had so +often expressed? + +He made no effort to conceal his gloom. He sat down on the first chair +that came in his way, he muttered something about his pipe being +up-stairs, "not unpacked," and declined the cigar which his cousin +hospitably offered him in its stead. Mr Cheviott quietly, filled and +lighted his own pipe, drew his chair to the fire, with even more +deliberation than usual, for his cousin's demeanour somewhat +disconcerted him. + +He would have found it easier to go on with what he had to do, had +Arthur continued indifferent or even defiant. But it is hard to strike +a man that is down; it is extremely difficult to "lecture" or +remonstrate with a man who is evidently more disgusted with himself than +you can possibly be with him. For Laurence knew that Arthur was +genuinely distressed and suffering; he knew his cousin to be as +incapable of sulky or resentful temper as of dissimulation or +intentional treachery. + +"Arthur," he said, at last, after smoking for a minute or two in +silence, "I wish you wouldn't look so unlike yourself; it makes it +harder for me. You must have known that this sort of thing couldn't go +on--that you were running willfully into an entanglement which, sooner +or later, must necessitate an explanation with me. You have no right to +punish _me_ for your own acts by looking as you are doing. Now the time +has come to have it out with me, there is only one thing to do--face +it." + +"I am perfectly ready to face it," said Arthur, coldly, but with a +decided and sudden increase of colour in his cheeks, and sitting up +erectly on his chair. + +"So much the better," said Laurence, dryly, adding to himself, "I am +glad I have roused him; we shall understand each other now.--I was +going," he continued, aloud--"I was _going_ to have prefaced what I have +to say by asking you whether you are losing your senses or your honour +and high principle, for except by supposing one or the other I cannot, +considering all, explain the way you have been going on. I was _going_ +to say so, I say, but I don't now think I need, for I see you think as +badly of yourself as I could do." + +"I do nothing of the kind," replied Arthur, firing up. "I don't ask you +to tell me how badly you think of me--you could hardly infer worse than +you have already expressed--but I altogether deny that I am either mad +or bad, to put it shortly. And, what's more, I have done nothing to +justify you, or any one, in speaking of me as you have done." + +"You can't mention `me' and `any one' together," said Mr Cheviott, +coolly. "I am the only person living, except a lawyer or two, who +understands your position, therefore I am the only person who can judge +whether you are doing right or wrong in making love to a girl without +letting her perfectly comprehend what you have to offer her." + +"And how do you know that I have not put it all before her?" exclaimed +Arthur, fiercely still. + +"Because you could not do so without breaking your word," said Mr +Cheviott, "and because, too, no girl who understood your position would +encourage your suit. If she were a high-principled, unselfish girl, she +would not allow you to ruin yourself for her sake, and if she were a +calculating, selfish girl, she would have no wish to share your ruin." + +"Yes," said Arthur, bitterly, "you put it very neatly. I am regularly +caught in a net, I know. Whichever way I turn, it is equally ruinous." + +"Then what on earth did you run your head into the net for?" said Mr +Cheviott, impatiently. "You had your eyes open, you knew what you were +about." + +"I did _not_," said Arthur, "I never, till now, realised how unnatural +and unbearable my position was. But you misunderstand me--I mean that +my father's absurd will entangles me hopelessly--I was not alluding to +my--my acquaintance with Miss Western--that is to be blamed for nothing +but causing me to realise the truth." + +"Well, then, I wish you had not realised the truth," said Mr Cheviott. +"I think, Arthur, you forget strangely that in all this you are not the +only sufferer. Do you think _my_ position is a pleasant one?" + +"No," said Captain Beverley, "I don't, but I think you exaggerate +matters. In any case, there is no question of my _ruining_ myself, or +any one else." + +"How do you make that out? For by `any case' I suppose you mean in the +case of your proposing to Miss Western and her accepting you (you may +have done so already, for all I know), and your marriage following. I +don't think ruin is much too strong a word to use for what this would +bring upon you." + +"You forget Hathercourt," said Captain Beverley, with some hesitation. + +"Hathercourt," repeated Mr Cheviott, looking puzzled, "I don't know +what you mean." + +"The Edge. Hathercourt Edge--my farm, I mean," explained Arthur, still +with a sort of hesitation in his manner. + +Mr Cheviott turned upon him with more asperity than he had yet shown. + +"Really, Arthur, you are too foolish," he exclaimed. "Do you mean to +say that you could live at the Edge on about fifty pounds a year-- +certainly not more--for the interest of the money that was raised to pay +your debts three years ago would fully take the rest of the two or three +hundred a year that is the most you could make out of the farm, even if +you managed it far better than you are likely to do. And I have no +power to clear you from these debts out of what should be, what surely +will be, your own before very long?" He looked at Arthur anxiously as +he spoke. + +"If it's ever becoming mine depends upon the marriage that my father set +his heart on taking place, it never will be mine--" + +"But--" began Mr Cheviott. + +"Yes, yes, I know what you are going to say. I may change, you think, +as I have changed before, but I never shall, Laurence. I never was +really in earnest before--my flirtations, even you must allow, were very +harmless; _this_ is very different, and I cannot give it up. And--and +even if I have to go away for two years--till Alys is of age--and take +my chance of _her_ remembering me, I could not owe my inheritance to a +legal quibble--I could not go through the farce of asking Alys to marry +me, even though _sure_ of her refusal, when I was heart and soul devoted +to another. And even if she--Miss Western--were married to some other +fellow by that time, it would be no better. I could not marry any one +else; and even if I could, as far as my feelings went, I could not, in +honour, refrain from telling Alys all, and--" he stopped to take breath. + +"Well, what then?" said Mr Cheviott. + +"Could I insult Alys by asking her to accept me _without_ my caring for +her as she should be cared for? As I now know, I never could care for +her, for she is just like the dearest of sisters to me, but _only_ +that." + +Mr Cheviott smiled. + +"Why in the world did you not see all this two years ago, when you +persuaded me into agreeing to your selling out and setting you straight +again? Do you not remember how confident you were about never wanting +to marry any one else?" + +"Any one at all, you should say. I never realised the marrying Alys. I +was sure _she_ would not wish it, and that seemed to make it all safe; +but I never, in the faintest degree, imagined my caring for any one in +_this_ way--a way which makes it simply impossible to think of ever +marrying any one else." + +"You think so just now," observed Mr Cheviott, cynically, "but--" + +"No, it is no passing feeling--you misjudge me altogether, Laurence; you +seem quite unable to understand me, and therefore there's no more to be +said." + +"I don't see that--even supposing I am incapable of understanding your +present frame of mind--though being in love, you must allow, is not such +a very uncommon condition as you seem to think it; taking for granted, +however, that I cannot understand you, still the practical side of the +question has to be considered, and you have no one to consult but me. +In two words, what do you mean to do?" + +Arthur turned his face away for a moment; then he set his elbows on his +knees and leaned his head on his hands, staring gloomily into the fire. + +At last, "Laurence," he broke out, "I don't know _what_ to do. There, +now you have it all; you may despise and sneer at me as you like, I +can't help it. I deserve it, and yet I _don't_ deserve it, but that's +the long and the short of it. I do not, in the very least, know what to +do, or what is right to do." + +To his surprise, Mr Cheviott suddenly leaned forward, took his pipe out +of his mouth, and held out his hand. Half mechanically Arthur took it, +and Laurence grasped his cousin's hand warmly. + +"We shall understand each other now," he said, heartily. "When it comes +to wishing to do right _now_, whatever mistakes you have made before, we +come upon firm ground. Shall I tell you, Arthur, what seems to me the +only thing for you to do?" + +"What?" said Arthur, listlessly. + +"Go away--quite away, for two years at least, if not more." + +"But not without explaining the reason to--to the Westerns?" said +Captain Beverley, looking up quickly. + +"Explaining!" repeated Mr Cheviott, with a shade of contempt in his +tone, "what in this world could you explain? Think of the position you +would put the girl in by letting her understand the real state of the +case! What _could_ she say or do? Her promising to wait for you would +be ruin to you, and her throwing you over, should you distinctly propose +to her, would seem to her--if she be what you believe her--shameful. I +suppose you have _not_ done anything definite? You are not engaged to +her?" + +"No," said Arthur, reluctantly. "She couldn't exactly bring me up for +breach of promise, if that's what you think her capable of," he went on, +with a half-bitter laugh; "but I consider myself _more_ bound to her +than if we were engaged. Then I should have given her a right to assert +herself, then she could insist on my explaining myself. My going away, +as you propose, Laurence, seems to me the meanest, most dishonourable +attempt at sneaking out of the whole affair--and, good Heavens, what +will they think of me?" + +"Hardly so badly as they will think of _me_," thought Mr Cheviott, +while a vision of the pale indignation of Mary Western's honest face +flashed before his eyes. But he said nothing. + +"Laurence, I say, what _will_ they think of me?" repeated Arthur, +impatiently. + +Mr Cheviott took his pipe out of his mouth again, and, in his turn, +stared into the fire. + +"It can't be helped; it's the only thing to do," he replied, decidedly. + +Captain Beverley got up and walked excitedly up and down the room. + +"What will Alys, even, think of me?" he exclaimed. "She knows enough to +suspect more. Laurence, is there nothing--are you certain there is +nothing that can be done to get me out of this cursed complication? +Would there be no use in getting another opinion upon the will?" + +Mr Cheviott shook his head. + +"None whatever. You know that as well as I do," he replied. "There is +only one thing that would free you." + +"What?" exclaimed Captain Beverley, eagerly, stopping short and facing +his cousin. + +"Alys's death," said Mr Cheviott. + +Arthur shuddered. + +"For shame, Laurence," he said, angrily. "Do you think it's good taste, +or good feeling either, to sneer in that way when you must--when you +cannot but see what all this is to me?" + +"It is not _pleasant_ to myself," observed Mr Cheviott, "which never +seems to occur to you, as I said before. My allusion to Alys's death +should remind you of this. As things are, nothing--really nothing else +than the death of the creature dearest to me on earth can clear _me_ +from the odious position I am placed in." + +Arthur looked at his cousin, first with surprise--it was so seldom +Laurence talked of himself or of his own feelings--then gradually with a +dawning of sympathy in his kindly eyes. + +"Laurence," he exclaimed, softly. That was all, and for a few moments +there was silence. + +"Did no one know of what my father was doing when he made that insane +codicil? Could no one have prevented it--he was with your father at the +time?" said Arthur, presently. + +"No one knew of it," replied Mr Cheviott, "not even his own lawyer; he +must have had a consciousness that it would be disapproved of. I think +the idea of saving you from the sort of marriage he had made himself had +become a monomania with him--that, and the wish to repay to his sister's +child, in some way, what she had done for him. He knew little Alys +would not be rich (her coming into Aunt Bethune's money was never +thought of then), and he was so extraordinarily fond of the child." + +"Couldn't he have left her half his money unconditionally?" + +"I wish he had--_now_," said Laurence. + +"But what do you mean by a wish to repay to his sister what she had done +for him?" + +"You know surely that my mother made over nearly all she had to him? +Long ago, before your uncle's death gave him Lydon and all his money. +He was foolish as a young man, foolish and desperately extravagant, and +but for what my mother did to save him, I don't believe Lydon would ever +have been his. His brother was just the sort of man to have passed him +over, had there been any sort of disgrace." + +"What an unlucky set we have been!" said Arthur. + +"And then he finished up by that wretched marriage," pursued Laurence, +without noticing his cousin's remark, "and in that again my mother was +the only one to stand by him. He had reason enough for gratitude to +her, if only he had taken a different way of showing it." + +"Does Alys know _anything_ of all this?" asked Arthur. "_Nothing_; and +she never must. It has been my great aim to prevent it. _However_ +things turn out, she must never know. You see that, Arthur, surely? I +can depend upon you?" said Mr Cheviott, speaking more eagerly and +vehemently than he had yet done. + +"You have my promise; what more would you have?" replied Arthur, +regretfully. "Yes," he continued, after a pause, "I suppose it would +never do for her to know, but it is frightful to think how she will +misjudge me--almost as bad as to think of the others. Laurence," he +went on, "I must do one thing--I must write to say good-bye to Mrs +Western; they have been awfully kind to me--at least, I may say I am +_obliged_ to go away." + +Mr Cheviott smiled grimly. + +"I am to have my full share of the credit of this nice piece of work, I +see," he said to himself. "Well, so best, perhaps."--"Oh, yes, I +suppose you must say something of the kind," he added, aloud, and at +these words Arthur felt a slight sensation of relief. What might he not +contrive to say by _not_ saying, in this note he had obtained permission +to write? What might not Lilias, as clearheaded as she was +true-hearted, Lilias, clairvoyant with "the eyes of the mind," read +between the lines of this poor little note on which so much was to hang; +yes, for a minute or two Arthur felt a shade less hopelessly wretched. + +"Laurence," he said, after a little pause, and with some energy in his +tone, "you will not, at least, coerce me in any way as to where or how I +spend these two years?" + +"How do you mean?" said Mr Cheviott, cautiously, with perhaps even a +shade of suspiciousness in his tone. But Arthur did not resent, if he +perceived it; he looked up into his cousin's face, and somehow the sight +of his own plead more in his favour than any words. All the comeliness +and colour, all the boyish heartiness, seemed to have faded away out of +his features as if by magic; in their stead there was a pale, almost +haggard look of anxiety which touched Mr Cheviott inexpressibly. He +turned away uneasily. + +"It's altogether too bad," he muttered to himself; "it is altogether +wrong. Here am I made to feel almost as if it were all _my_ doing, and +Arthur with all the heart and spirit crushed out of him, poor fellow! +And, after all, he has not done anything wrong--all the result of his +father's folly; it is altogether too bad. Far better have left him +penniless from the beginning." + +But Mr Cheviott was not in the habit of allowing his feelings, however +righteous, to run away with him. In a moment or two he replied quietly +to his cousin's question. + +"I have no wish to coerce you about anything," he said, weariedly; "I +only want to decide how to make the best of a bad business. Where would +you like to go?" + +"_Like_ to go? Nowhere," said Arthur, bitterly. "Where I would have a +chance of doing any good is the question. I was thinking I might do +worse than take to studying farming, and that sort of thing, +systematically--go to Cirencester or one of those agricultural colleges, +eh?" + +"With a view to settling down at the Edge?" said Laurence, maliciously. + +"No, but with a view to getting an agency--the agency of an estate, I +mean, once Alys is of age. I don't see anything unreasonable in that. +If Alys doesn't sell Lydon, perhaps she will take me into +consideration." + +"Don't sneer, Arthur; it is not Alys's fault," said Mr Cheviott. "I +don't think your idea _is_ an unreasonable one," and relieved to find +his cousin so practically inclined, he went on to discuss the rival +merits of the various agricultural colleges. + +It was daylight, or dawn, at least, before the cousins separated, but, +tired as he was, Captain Beverley did not go to bed till he had written +and rewritten half a dozen times the conceded note of farewell to Mrs +Western. + +And in the end he, in despair, copied over the first and decided to send +it. + +"It is merely catching at a straw," he said to himself. "Far better +give up every hope of her at once, but I _cannot_." + +He left Romary the following afternoon, but his note was not sent to +Hathercourt Rectory till late that evening. + +CHAPTER TWELVE. + +"HAVE I MADE IT WORSE?" + + "Give me good fortune, I could strike him dead, + For this discomfort he hath done the house!" + + _Elaine_. + +So it was not really for from "this time to-morrow" that Lilias had so +confidently anticipated, when Mrs Western opened the envelope, +addressed to her by Captain Beverley, and read its contents. + +"What can it mean? I cannot understand," she said to herself, +tremulously, for she was alone at the time. Then a second thought +struck her, and the tremulousness gave place to hot indignation. + +"Can he have been playing with her only? My child--my poor Lilias, is +it _possible_?" she exclaimed aloud in her agitation. "What shall I do? +How can I tell her?" + +Just then a light, firm step sounded along the passage. Mrs Western +shivered. + +"If it is Lilias!" she whispered. + +But it was not Lilias. + +"Oh, Mary, my dearest, how thankful I am it is you!" she cried, as her +second daughter entered the room. "Mary, what does this mean? Read it. +How can we ever tell Lilias?" and as she spoke she held out the paper +that trembled in her hands. + +Mary trembled too, for an instant only, however. Then she drew herself +together, as it were, by a vigorous effort, and read: + + "_Romary_, February 19. + + "My Dear Mrs Western,-- + + "I hardly know how to find words in which to apologise sufficiently + for the ingratitude and discourtesy of which I shall _appear_ guilty + when I tell you that this note is to bid you all good-bye. For a time + only, I trust and believe, but a time which seems terribly long for me + to look forward to--for I am absolutely obliged to leave this + neighbourhood at once, and for _two years_. I do not know how to + thank you for all your goodness. I have never, in all my life, been + so happy as under your roof, yet I have no choice but to go, without + even bidding you all farewell in person. + + "Will you think of me as kindly as you can, and will you _allow_ me to + send, through you, my farewell to Miss Western and her sisters, and + the rest of the family? and believe me,-- + + "Yours most gratefully and truly,-- + + "Arthur Kenneth Beverley." + +Mary stood motionless. Her face grew pale, her lips compressed, but she +did not speak. + +"What does it mean? Mary, speak, child, tell me what it means," said +Mrs Western, with the petulance born of extreme anxiety. "It cannot be +that Lilias has refused him?" + +"No, mother, it is not that," said Mary, "I wish it were." + +"What is it, then? _Can_ he be so utterly base and dishonourable?" + +"Not of himself," replied Mary, bitterly; "weak fool that he is, he is +not so bad as that. No, mother, he is not, or has been made to think he +is not, his own master; it is all that man--that _bad_ man's doing." + +"_Whose_ doing?" said Mrs Western, bewilderedly. "That Mr Cheviott-- +Mr Cheviott of Romary. Don't you see the note is dated from there? I +see it all; he found it out at the ball. Very likely he went there for +the purpose of finding it out, having heard rumours of it, and at once +used all his influence, whatever it is, to make that poor fool give it +up. And yet he _isn't_ a poor fool! That is the worst of it; there is +so much good in him, and Lilias cares for him--yes, _that_ is the worst +of it. Mother, she does care for him. Will it break her heart?" + +And Mary, in her innocence and ignorance, looked up to her mother who +had gone through life, who must know how it would be, and repeated, +wistfully, "Mother, will it break her heart?" + +Mrs Western shook her head. + +"I do not know--I cannot say; she is so proud. Either it will harden or +break her utterly. Oh, Mary, my dear, my instincts were right. Do you +remember how I dreaded it from the first?" + +"Yes, mother, you were right; nowadays if people are poor, they must +forget they are gentle-people. It would be well to bring up Alexa and +Josey not to `look high,' as the servants say; a respectable tradesman-- +Mr Brunt, the Withenden draper's eldest son, for instance, is the sort +of man that girls like us should be taught to encourage--eh, mother?" + +"Mary, don't; you pain me. It is not like you to talk so. If what you +say _were_ true, it would make me go back upon it all and think I was +wrong to marry your father. He might have done so much better--he, so +attractive and popular as he was; he might have married some one rich +and--" + +"Hush, mother--_dear_ mother, hush," said Mary, kissing her; "it is +wicked of me to pain you," and in saying these words she determined to +tell her mother nothing of her own personal part of the affair, her +bitter indignation at the way in which Mr Cheviott had tried to win her +over to take part against her sister; and for this reticence she had +another, as yet hardly understood, motive--a terrible misgiving was +creeping upon her. Was _she_ to blame? Had her plainly expressed +defiance and indignation raised Mr Cheviott to more decisive action +than he had before contemplated? She could not tell. + +"But so mean as he has shown himself, it is perfectly possible that it +is so," she reflected. "He is small-minded enough to be stung into +doing what he has by even my contempt, yet how could I have spoken +otherwise? though for Lilias's sake I could _almost_ have made a +hypocrite of myself." + +But as yet she was not at leisure to think this over; she only felt +instinctively that it was better it should not be told, and thus +deciding, her mother's voice recalled her to the present. + +"Mary," she repeated again, "how are we to tell Lilias?" + +"Leave it to me, mother dear," she replied, for a moment's consideration +satisfied her that nothing in the shape of sympathy or pity--not even +her mother's--was likely to be acceptable to her sister at the first. + +"She may soften afterwards, but she is sure to be hard at first," Mary +said to herself, "and, dear mother," she went on, aloud, "the less +notice we seem to take of his going, to the others, the better, don't +you think? Not even to papa. If he sees Lily looking much the same as +usual--and you may trust her to do that--he will not think anything +about it, and Alexa and Josey must just be well snubbed if they begin +any silly chatter. And you will leave Lilias to me?" + +"Yes, dear; but can I do nothing? If we could arrange for her to go +away somewhere for a while, for instance?" + +"After a time, perhaps, but not at first. Mother, you will try not to +take _any_ notice of it at first, won't you? Just allude to it in a +commonplace way; it will be far the best and easiest for Lilias." + +"Yes, I understand." + +"It is so horrible!" said Mary, with a little shudder, "so utterly +_horrible_ that a girl should be exposed to this--that even you and I, +mother--mother and sister though we are to her, should be discussing her +feelings as if we were doctors and she a patient! Oh, it is +_horrible_!" + +Lilias was not in her room; she was down-stairs in the drawing-room +practising duets with Alexa, while Josey hovered about chattering, and +interrupting, and trying to extract gossip from her elder sister on the +subject of last night's ball. + +"Josey," said Mary, as she came in, "it is past your bed-time, and you, +too, Alexa, had better go I think. Mamma is in the study, so go and say +good-night to her there." + +"Is mother not coming in here again?" asked Lilias. "I hate the +evenings papa has to go out; we all seem so unsettled and straggling. +Yes, do go to bed, children. I am beginning to feel a little tired, +Mary; aren't you?" + +"No--yes, a little. I really don't know," said Mary. + +Lilias laughed merrily. + +"Why, I believe you are half asleep, child!" she exclaimed. "We are +evidently not intended to be fine ladies, if one ball knocks us up so. +I wonder what all the people who were there last night are doing with +themselves now? Very likely they are having carpet dances to-night, and +all sorts of fun. The Cleavelands party is broken up, though. The +Cheviotts were going back to Romary last night." + +"Yes," said Mary. + +"No note has come for me, I suppose?" asked Lilias, with a little +hesitation. "I did not like to ask you before the girls, but one of +them said something about a groom on horseback having been at the stable +door a little while ago." + +"There was no note for you," said Mary, her voice sounding even to +herself set and hard, "but there was one for mamma. She told me to +bring it to you. Here it is." + +Lilias took it, but something in Mary's manner startled her. + +"What is it?" she said, hastily. "Why do you look so strange, Mary?" + +"Read the note, Lily, please," said Mary. "I'm going back to mamma--I +won't be a minute," and as she spoke she turned to leave the room. + +"Don't go, Mary!" cried Lilias, but Mary had already gone. + +Ten minutes after she returned to the drawing-room, but no Lilias was +there. Mary's heart failed her. + +"Was I wrong to leave her?" she said to herself. "I thought it would be +so horrid for me to seem to be watching how she took it." + +She flew up-stairs to her sister's bedroom. The door was shut, but not +locked. Mary knocked. + +"Come in," said Lilias's voice, and hardly knowing what she was going to +see, Mary entered. + +There stood Lilias in the centre of the room, her beautiful fair hair +all loosened, hanging about her like a cloud, her face pale, but eyes +very bright--brighter than usual it seemed to Mary. + +"Lily!" she exclaimed. + +"Why do you say `Lily,' and look at me like that?" replied her sister, +sharply. "There's nothing the matter. I'm tired, and going to bed +early, that's all. Please tell mamma so, and do ask her not to come to +say good-night to me. No, don't kiss me, please, Mary. I'm cross, I +suppose, just say good-night." + +"Very well," said Mary, submissively. + +She turned sadly to go, but had not reached the door when her sister's +voice recalled her. + +"Oh! Mary," it cried, and the sharp accent of pain which rang through +the two little words went straight to Mary's heart, "don't misunderstand +me. I want to be unselfish and brave, and just now it seemed to me +that, if any one seemed to feel for me, I could not manage to get on. +But I don't want to _make you_ unhappy, and you may talk to me if you +like." + +Mary gently closed the door, then she came back to her sister, and drew +her down on to a seat. + +"What am I to say Lily? I wish I knew." + +"Anything," replied Lilias; "you may say _anything_, Mary, except one +thing." + +"And what is that?" + +"Blame of _him_," said Lilias, her eyes sparkling, "that, Mary, is the +one thing I could not bear. I have made up my mind absolutely about +this--if--if it is _never_ explained, I will still keep to it, he is, in +some way, not his own master." + +"But if it is so, Lilias, it still does not free him from blame, though +it alters the kind. If he is not his own master, he should not have let +himself got to care for you, and, still worse, have taught you to care +for him." + +"Oh! yes, I dare say that is true enough--at least, it sounds so," said +Lilias; "but in some way or other it isn't true, though I can't explain +it, and can't argue about it. Besides, Mary," she went on, with some +hesitation, her pale face flushing crimson as she spoke, "it isn't as if +he had said good-bye for ever. He says distinctly, `two years'." + +"Ah! yes, and that is _the_ mean bit of it," said Mary, indignantly; "he +had no right to allude to any future at all. He should leave you +absolutely free, if he cannot claim you openly--leave you, I mean, +absolutely free for those two years, even if he really expects to be +able to return at their end. What right has he to expect you to waste +your youth and happiness for him? If you were engaged a separation of +two years would be nothing, or if even he had said that at the end of +the time he would be free to ask you to marry him." + +"But that would have been binding me unfairly, most people would say," +replied Lilias, softly. "I believe he means to leave me quite free, but +that he could not help catching at a straw, as it were, and therefore +said that about two years." + +"I don't believe in the two years," persisted Mary; "even if he does not +come into his property for two years, you might have been engaged, +though not marrying for that time. No, I see no sense in it--it is some +clever pretext of that--" "that scheming Mr Cheviott's," she was going +to have said, but she stopped in time. + +"Mary," said Lilias, drawing away the hand which her sister had held in +hers, "I told you I would not let you speak against him." + +"Forgive me. I won't," said Mary, penitently. + +"Whatever the future brings--if he marry some one else within the two +years," said Lilias, "I shall still always believe in the Arthur +Beverley I have known. He may change--circumstances and other +influences may change him, but the man _I_ have known is true and +honourable, and has wished and tried to act rightly. This I shall +always believe--till I am quite an old woman--an old maid," she added +with an attempt at a smile. + +"Lily," exclaimed Mary, with a touch of actual passion in her +tone--"Lily, don't. You are so beautiful, my own Lily, why should you +be so tried? So beautiful and so good!" And Mary, Mary the calm, Mary +the wise, ended up her attempt at strengthening and consoling her sister +by bursting into tears herself. + +It did Lilias good. Now it was her turn to comfort and support. + +"I am not an old woman yet, Mary," she said, caressingly, "and I don't +intend to become one any sooner than I can help. My hair isn't going to +turn grey by to-morrow morning. To-morrow, oh! Mary, do you remember +what I said yesterday about `this time to-morrow'? I was so happy this +time yesterday, and he said he would be here to-day--it was the very +last thing he said to me. What _can_ have happened to change it all?" + +Again the misgiving shot through Mary's heart. Had she done harm? She +said nothing, and after a moment's pause Lilias spoke again: + +"The great thing you can do to help me just now, Mary, is to prevent any +of the others thinking there is anything the matter. Outside people may +say what they like--I don't care for that--but it is at home I couldn't +stand it. Besides, we have so few neighbours and friends, we are not +likely to be troubled with many remarks. Except Mrs Greville, perhaps, +I don't suppose any one has heard anything about Captain Beverley's +knowing us." + +"Only at the ball," said Mary, hesitatingly; "he picked you out so." + +"Yes," said Lilias, smiling sarcastically, "no doubt all the great +people said I was behaving most unbecomingly; but they may say what they +like. I know I don't care for that part of it. Mary, you will say +something to mother to prevent her asking me about it." + +"Yes," said Mary. "Lilias, would you like to go away from home for a +while?" + +"I don't know. How could I? There is nowhere I could go, unless you +mean that I should be a governess, after all, and--" She stopped, and +her face flushed again. + +"And what?" + +"I don't like to say it; you will not enter into my feelings--I don't +like to do anything _he_ would not like." + +Mary looked at her sadly. + +"Poor Lilias!" she thought, "is `he' worthy of it all?"--"I was not +thinking of that," she said aloud. "I meant, if it could be arranged, +for you to go away for a visit for a little. Mrs Greville's sister +asked you once." + +"Yes, but ever so long ago, and I wouldn't on any account propose such a +thing to Mrs Greville just now." + +"Very well," said Mary. + +Then they kissed each other, and said good-night. + +"Two years--two long years!" were the words that Lilias said to herself +over and over again that night--words that mingled themselves in the +dreams that disturbed such sleep as came to her. "Two years!--what can +it all mean? But I will trust you, Arthur--I _will_ trust you!" + +"Two years!" thought Mary. "That part of it _can_ be nothing but a +pretext. And if Lilias goes on trusting and hoping, it will make it all +the worse for her in the end. She has never had any real trouble, and +she thinks herself stronger to bear it than she really is. I have +always heard that that terrible sort of waiting is worse for a girl than +anything. Oh! Lily, what can I do for you? And _have_ I made it +worse? If I had been gentler, perhaps, to that hard, proud man--there +was a kind look in his eyes once or twice; he cannot know that it is no +piece of idle flirtation--he cannot know how Lilias cares. If I could +see him again! I feel as if I could say burning words that would make +him realise the wretchedness of separating those two." + +CHAPTER THIRTEEN. + +A TEMPTING OPPORTUNITY. + + "Thou troublest me; I am not in the vein." + + _Richard III_. + +The days went on, and things at Hathercourt Rectory looked much the same +as usual. But not many had passed before, to Mary's watching eyes, it +seemed that Lilias was flagging. She had kept up, as she said she +would, she had seemed as cheerful, _almost_, as usual, she had not +overacted her part either, there had been no excitement or affectation +about her in any way. But, all the more, it had been hard work, very +hard work, and Mary's heart ached when she saw the first signs of +physical prostration beginning to show themselves. + +"She looks so pale and so thin, and her eyes haven't the least of their +old sparkle," said Mary to herself, "if it goes on, she will get really +ill, I know." + +And, in truth, Lilias was beginning herself to lose faith in her own +strength and self-control. She had been buoyed up by a hope she had not +liked to allude to to Mary. A hope which, long deferred, has made many +a heart sick besides Lilias Western's--the hope of a letter! + +There was no reason, which she knew of, why Arthur should not write to +her. + +"He might say in a letter what, perhaps, he would have shrunk from +saying directly," she thought, forgetting that the same strong influence +which had sent Arthur away would have foreseen and guarded against his +writing to her. And as day by day came and went, and every morning the +post-bag was opened without her hopes being fulfilled, Lilias's heart +grew very weary. + +"If I had known him anywhere but _here_," she said to Mary one day, "I +don't think it would have been quite so hard. But here, at home, he +seemed to have grown already so associated with everything. And, Mary," +she went on, with a sort of little sob, "it wasn't all only about myself +I was thinking. He is rich, you know; and I couldn't help fancying +sometimes it might be a good thing for us all--for you and the younger +girls, and for mother. _He_ even encouraged this, for he more than once +made little allusions to the sort of things he would like to do if he +dared. One day, I remember, when mother was tired, he said to me `how +he would like to choose a pony-carriage for her that she could get about +in, and have more variety without fatigue.' We were walking up and down +the terrace--it was late in the afternoon, and there was red in the sky +that shone through the branches of the group of old oaks at the end--do +you remember that afternoon, Mary? The sky looks something the same +to-day, but not so bright--it was that that reminded me of it." + +"No," said Mary, "I don't remember that particular afternoon. But I do +know that he was always kind and considerate, especially to mother, and +I cannot believe that it was not sincere." + +She gave a little sigh as she spoke; they were standing together at the +window, and as Lilias leaned against the panes, gazing out, her attitude +so languid and hopeless, the sharpened lines of her profile, all struck +Mary with a chill misgiving. + +"Lilias," she said, suddenly, "you must go away from home for a while. +What you have said just now about the associations here strengthens my +feeling about it. You must have some change." + +"I don't think it is possible, and I would much, very much rather stay +at home," said Lilias. + +And till she had some definite scheme to propose, Mary thought it no use +to contradict her. + +But morning, noon, and night she was thinking of Lilias, always of +Lilias and her troubles, and revolving in her head over and over again +every possible and impossible means of making her happy again. + +Two mornings after the conversation in the window the postboy brought a +note for Lilias from Mrs Greville. It was at breakfast-time that it +came. They were all together at the table. + +"A letter for you, Lilias," said her father, as he handed it to her. + +Now letters for the Western girls were a rarity. They had few relations +and almost fewer friends, for they had never been at school, and seldom +left home. So when Mr Western's apparently most commonplace +announcement was made, six pair of eyes turned with interest, not to say +curiosity, in Lilias's direction, and even her mother and Mary glanced +towards her with involuntary anxiety. + +"A letter for Lily," cried Josey, darting up from her seat. "Do let's +see it. Who's it from?" + +"_Josephine_!" exclaimed Mary, severely, "how _can_ you be so +unladylike? Mother, do speak to her," and the little bustle of reproof +of Josey that ensued effectually diverted the general attention. + +Mary's little ruse had succeeded, and her mother understood it. But for +this, even little Francie could hardly have failed to notice the deathly +paleness which, at her father's words, overspread poor Lilias's face. +For an instant only; one glance at the envelope, and the intensity +passed out of her eyes. + +"A note from Mrs Greville," she said, carelessly, as soon as she felt +able to control the trembling in her voice. "She wants Mary and me to +go to stay there for two nights--she expects one or two young friends +from somewhere or other, and wants us to help to entertain them, I +suppose." + +"It is very kind of her to think of the variety for you, _I_ think," +said Mr Western. "Why should you be so ungracious about it, Lilias?" + +The girl's face flushed painfully. + +"I don't mean to be ungracious, father dear," she said, gently, "but I +don't care about going." + +Mr Western was beginning to look, mystified, when Mary's voice diverted +his attention. + +"_I_ shall go," she said, abruptly, "that is to say," she added, +colouring a little in her turn, "I should like to go, if I can." + +"Dear me," said her father, "how the tables are turned! It used to be +always Lilias who was eager to go, and Mary to stay at home." + +"But there is no objection to Mary's going, if she likes," interposed +Mrs Western, hastily. + +"Objection, of course not. There is no objection to their both going +that I can see," said Mr Western. + +"Well, we'll talk about it afterwards," said Mrs Western. "Girls, you +had better go to the school-room. We are later than usual this +morning." + +They all rose, and Lilias was thankful to get away; but as Mary and she +left the room together, they overheard a remark of their father to the +effect that Lilias was not looking well, had not her mother observed it? + +"I dare say she would be the better for a thorough change," replied Mrs +Western. "It is so long since she left home." + +"Oh, yes!" said her father, with a sigh. "They would _all_ enjoy a +change, and no one needs it more than yourself, Margaret. It makes me +very anxious when I think about these girls sometimes." + +"But, at the worst, they are far better off in every other way than I +was at their age," said Mrs Western, "and see how happy I have been." + +"Ideas of happiness differ so," said her husband. "I fear a quiet life +in a country parsonage on limited means would hardly satisfy Lilias. As +to Mary, I somehow feel less anxiety. She takes things so placidly." + +"Not always," said Mrs Western, under her breath; but she was glad that +her husband did not catch the words, and that little Brooke's running in +with some inquiry about his lessons interrupted the conversation--for it +was trenching on dangerous ground. + +"I am afraid papa thinks there is something vexing me," said Lilias, +when Mary and she were alone together for a little. + +"You have yourself to blame for it," said Mary, with some asperity; "why +did you speak so indifferently of Mrs Greville's invitation? Usually +you would have been very pleased to go." + +"Oh, Mary, don't scold me," said Lilias, pathetically. "I _couldn't_ go +to Uxley--you forget how near Romary it is--I should be sure to hear +gossip about him--perhaps that he was going to be married, or some +falsehood of the kind. I could not bear it. I almost wondered at your +saying you would like to go." + +"It will only be for a couple of days," said Mary. + +"But you are not intending to make any plan with Mrs Greville for my +leaving home, I hope, Mary?" said Lilias, anxiously. "It may be better +for me to go away after a while, but not yet. And if you came upon the +subject with Mrs Greville _in the very least_, she would suspect +something. Promise me you will not do anything without telling me." + +"Of course not," said Mary. "I would not dream of doing such a thing +without telling you." + +But her conscience smote her slightly as she spoke. Why? + +A design was slowly but steadily taking shape in her mind, and Mrs +Greville's note this morning had strangely forwarded and confirmed it. +Practically speaking, indeed, it had done more than confirm it--it had +rendered feasible what had before floated in Mary's brain as an act of +devotion scarcely more possible of achievement than poor Prascovia's +journey across Siberia. And though Mary was sensible and reasonable, +there lay below this quiet surface stormy possibilities and an +impressionability little suspected by those who knew her best. Her +mind, too, from dwelling of late so incessantly on her sister's affairs, +had grown morbidly imaginative on the point, though to this she herself +was hardly alive. + +"I am not superstitious or fanciful--I know I am not. I never have +been," she argued, "yet it does seem as if this invitation to Uxley had +come on purpose. If I _were_ superstitious I should think it a `sign.'" + +And who is not superstitious?--only for no other human weakness have we +so many names, so many or such skilfully contrived disguises! + +Two days later, "the day after to-morrow," found Mary on her way to +Uxley Vicarage. Mrs Greville had sent her pony-carriage to fetch her. +The old man who drove it was very deaf and hopelessly irresponsive, +therefore, to the young lady's kindly-meant civilities in the shape of +inquiries about the road and commendation of the fat pony, so before +long she felt herself free to lapse into perfect silence, and as they +jogged along the pretty country lanes--pretty to-day, though only +February, for the sky was clear and the air mild with a faint odour of +coming spring about it--Mary had plenty of time to think over her plan +of action. + +But thinking it over, after all, was not much good, till she knew more +of her ground. + +"I must to some extent be guided by circumstances," she said to herself, +but with a strong sense of confidence in her own ability to prevent +circumstances being too much for her. She had never before felt so +certain of herself as now, when about, for the first time in her life, +to act entirely on her own responsibility, and the sensation brought +with it a curious excitement and invigoration. She had not felt so +hopeful or light-hearted since the day of the Brocklehurst bail, and she +was thankful to feel so, and to be told by Mrs Greville, when she +jumped out of the pony-carriage and was met by her hospitable hostess at +the gate, that she had never seen her looking so well in her life. + +"There is no fear of her suspecting anything about Lilias," thought +Mary, with relief, "if she thinks me in such good spirits." + +"And how are you all at home, my dear?" said Mrs Greville, as she led +Mary into her comfortable drawing-room, and bade her "toast" herself a +little before unfastening her wraps. "Your poor dear mother and all?" + +"They are all very well, thank you," Mary replied. "Mamma is quite +well, and so pleased at Basil's getting on so well--we have such good +news of him." + +She always felt inclined to make the _very_ best of the family chronicle +in answer to Mrs Greville's inquiries, for though unmistakably prompted +by the purest kindness her want of tact often invested them with a +slight tone of patronage which Lilias herself could scarcely have +resented more keenly than her less impulsive sister. The "poor dear +mother," especially grated on Mary's ears. "Mamma," so pretty and +young-looking, was no fit object for the "poor dears" of any one but +themselves, thought Mrs Western's tall sons and daughters. + +But of course it would have been no less ungrateful than senseless to +have taken amiss Mrs Greville's well-meant interest and sympathy, even +when they directed themselves to more delicate ground. + +"And what about Lilias, Mary dear?" she inquired next. "I had been +longing to hear all about it, and _wishing_ so I had authority to +contradict the absurd rumours that I have heard about Captain Beverley. +I was dreadfully disappointed at Lilias's not coming, but consoled +myself by thinking you would tell me all about it." + +"But what are the rumours, and what have they to do with Lilias?" asked +Mary. + +"That's just what I want to know," replied Mrs Greville. "Captain +Beverley has left Romary suddenly--of course you know that--and some +people say he has made a vow never to return there because Miss Cheviott +refused him the night of the Brocklehurst ball. That story _I_ don't +believe, of course. Others say it was not Miss Cheviott, but another +young lady, whose name no one about here seems to know, but whom he was +seen to dance with tremendously that night, who refused him." + +Mrs Greville stopped and looked curiously at Mary, who smiled quietly, +but said nothing, and felt increasingly thankful that Lilias had not +accompanied her to Uxley. + +"And there are stranger stories than these even," pursued Mrs Greville. +"You will think me a terrible gossip, Mary, but in a general way I +really don't listen to idle talk, only I felt so interested in Captain +Beverley after what I saw, and I can't believe any harm of him." + +"Who can have said any harm of him?" inquired Mary. "I should have +thought him quite a general favourite; he is so bright, and kindly, and +unaffected." + +"Yes, I thought him very nice," said Mrs Greville. "But there are +dreadful stories about, as to the reason of his leaving Romary so +suddenly. One is that he has been gambling so furiously that he is +embarrassed past redemption, and that he will only come into his +property for it to be sold; and another is that Mr Cheviott found out +that he had secretly made some low marriage, and turned him out of the +house on that account, it having been always intended that he should +marry Miss Cheviott." Mary was standing by the fire looking down on it +as Mrs Greville spoke--the reflection of its ruddy glow hid the intense +paleness which came over her face, and explained, too, the burning flush +which almost instantly succeeded it. She felt obliged to speak, for +silence might have seemed suspicious. + +"What a shame of people to say such things!" she exclaimed, looking up +indignantly. "No, I certainly don't believe them, but I am glad to know +about it all, for it shows what disagreeable gossip there might have +been about Lilias had her name been mixed up with it." + +"Yes, indeed, but my dear child, you are scorching your face to +cinders--you should not play such pranks with your complexion, though +that brawny pink skin of yours is a very good kind to wear, and quite as +pretty in my opinion, as Lilias's lilies and roses--but what was I +saying? Oh, yes, by-the-bye, I do wish you would tell me--I shall be as +discreet as possible--_is_ Lilias engaged to him?" + +Mary hesitated a moment, then she said, gently: + +"Dear Mrs Greville, I wish you wouldn't ask me, for I _can't_ tell +you." + +"Ah, well, never mind," said her hostess, good-naturedly. "You'll tell +me whenever you can, no doubt, and I hope it will all come right in the +end, however it stands at present." + +"Thank you," said Mary, with sincerity. + +Then they went on to talk of other things. Mrs Greville described to +Mary the "young people" who were staying with her, two girls and their +brother, cousins of Mr Greville's first wife, and counselled her to +make herself as pretty and charming as possible, to fascinate young +Morpeth, who would be a conquest by no means to be despised. + +"He is nothing at present," she said; "he has a thousand a year, and his +sisters the same between them. They are orphans and have had no settled +home since their mother's death. Vance Morpeth is talking of going into +the cavalry for a few years, but his elder sister is against it, and he +will be too old if he isn't quick about it. They have been abroad all +the winter. Now remember, Mary, you are to do your best to captivate +him, unless, indeed," she went on, as Mary was turning to her with some +smiling rejoinder--"unless _you_ have some little secret of your own +too, with that haughty-looking Mr Cheviott for its hero." + +The smile died out of Mary's face. + +"Don't joke about that man, _please_, Mrs Greville," she said, +beseechingly. "You do not know how I dislike him. I have never +regretted anything more in my whole life than dancing with him that +night." + +And just then the time-piece striking five, she was glad to make the +excuse that she would be late for dinner unless she hurried up-stairs to +get her things unpacked, for fashionable hours had not yet penetrated to +Uxley. + +"Yes, go, my dear," said Mrs Greville. "Fancy, we have been a whole +hour talking over the fire. I hear the Morpeths coming in--they must +have been a very long walk, and it's quite dark outside. I cannot +understand why people can't go walks in the morning instead of putting +off till late in the afternoon, and then catching colds and all sorts of +disagreeables. Run off, Mary. I dare say you would rather not see them +till you are dressed." + +Which Mary, who cared very little for seeing "them" at all, rightly +interpreted as meaning, "I don't want Mr Morpeth to see you till you +are nicely dressed, and looking to the best advantage." + +Her powers of looking her best depended much more on herself than on her +clothes, for her choice of attire was limited enough. But the +suppressed excitement under which she was labouring had given unusual +brilliance to Mary's at all times beautiful brown eyes, and a certain +vivacity to her manner, in general somewhat too staid and sober for her +age. So she looked more than "pretty" this evening, though her dress +was nothing but a many-times-washed white muslin, brightened up here and +there by a little rose-coloured ribbon. + +"I thought you told me that it was not the _pretty_ Miss Western that +you expected?" said Mr Morpeth to Mrs Greville in a low voice, after +the introductions had been accomplished. + +Mrs Greville glanced up to the young man as she answered. There was a +puzzled expression in his innocent-looking eyes; she saw that he was +quite in earnest, and, indeed, she felt sure he was too little, of a man +of the world to have intended his inquiry for a compliment. + +"Does that mean that you think this one pretty?" she asked. + +"Of course it does. I think she's awfully pretty, don't you?" he said, +frankly. + +Mrs Greville felt well pleased, but the announcement of dinner +interrupted any more talk between them. Mr Morpeth had to take Mrs +Greville, but _she_ took care that Mary should sit at his other side. + +"How would you define `awfully pretty,' Mary?" she said, mischievously, +when they were all seated at table, and the grace had been said, and +nobody seemed to have anything particular to talk about. + +"Awfully pretty," repeated Mary. "Awfully pretty what?" + +"An `awfully pretty' girl was the `what' in question," said Mr Morpeth, +shielding himself by taking the bull by the horns, with more alertness +than Mrs Greville had given him credit for. + +Mary smiled. + +"I could easily define, or point out to you rather, what, if I were a +man, _I_ should call an awfully pretty girl in this very neighbourhood," +she said, turning to Mrs Greville. + +"I know whom you mean," replied her hostess. "Miss Cheviott, is it not? +Yes, she is _exceedingly_ pretty. You have not seen her, Frances," she +went on to the eldest Miss Morpeth. "I wish you could." + +"Shall we not see her at church on Sunday?" said Miss Morpeth. "Are not +the Cheviotts the principal people here, now?" + +"Yes," said Mrs Greville, "but they are a good deal away from home." +Here Mary's heart almost stopped beating--this was what she had been +longing yet dreaded to inquire about--what would become of all her plans +should Mr Cheviott be away? But it was not so. "They are a good deal +away from home," Mrs Greville went on, "and there is another church +nearer Romary than ours, where they go in the morning. But they _very_ +often--indeed, almost always the last few weeks, come to Uxley in the +afternoon--Mr Cheviott likes Mr Greville's preaching better than the +old man's at Romary Moor." + +"That's not much of a compliment, my dear," said Mr Greville from the +end of the table, "considering that poor old Wells is so asthmatic that +you can hardly catch a word he says now." + +A little laugh went round, and under cover of it Mary managed to say +gently to Mr Greville: + +"Then Mr Cheviott is at Romary now?" + +"Oh, yes; saw him this morning riding past," was the reply. + +Mary gave a little sigh of relief, yet her heart beat faster for the +rest of the evening. + +"I wonder if I must do it to-morrow," she said to herself, "or not till +the day after. I have only the two days to count upon, and supposing he +is out and I have to go again! I must try for to-morrow, I think." + +"Romary is just two miles from here, is it not?" she said, in a +commonplace tone. + +"Not so much," replied Mr Greville. "Have you never seen it? It is +quite a show place." + +"I was there once--some years ago," said Mary. + +"It is very much improved of late. If the family had been away we might +easily have driven you over to see it," said Mr Greville, +good-naturedly. "However, some other time, perhaps, when your sister is +here too. You must come over oftener this summer," he added, utterly +forgetting, if ever he had quite taken in, all his wife's confidences +about the Western girls' wonderful successes at the Brocklehurst ball, +and her more recent misgiving that something had "come between" Lilias +and "that handsome Captain Beverley." + +"Thank you," said Mary; and after this no more was said about Romary or +the Cheviotts. + +CHAPTER FOURTEEN. + +MR CHEVIOTT'S ULTIMATUM. + + "`But methinks,' quoth I, under my breath, + `'Twas but cowardly work.'" + + _Songs of Two Worlds_. + +The next morning gave promise of a fine day, and Mary felt that she must +be in readiness to seize any favourable opportunity for her meditated +expedition. + +"For to-morrow," she said to herself, while she was dressing, "may be +wet and stormy, and I must not weaken my position by making myself look +ridiculous, if I can help it. And I certainly should look the reverse +of dignified if I trudged over to Romary in a waterproof and goloshes! +I very much doubt if I should get a sight of Mr Cheviott at all in such +a case." + +She was trying to laugh at herself, by way of keeping up her spirits, +but of real laughter there was very little in her heart. Even +yesterday's excitement seemed to have deserted her, and but for a +curious kind of self-reliance, self-trust rather, which Mary possessed a +good deal of, the chances are that she would have given up her intention +and returned to Hathercourt and to Lilias, feeling that the attempt to +interfere had been impossible for her. + +"But I foresaw this," she said to herself, re-assuringly. "I knew I +should lose heart and courage when it came to close quarters--but close +quarters is not the best position for deciding such an action as this. +I must remember that I resolved upon what I am going to do deliberately +and coolly. It seemed to me a right thing to do, and I must have faith +in my own decision. At the worst, at the _very_ worst, all that can +happen to me will be that that man will think I am mad, or something +like it, to take such a step--perhaps he will make a good story of it, +and laugh me over with his friends--though I must say he hasn't the look +of being given to laugh at anything! But why need I care if he does? I +care nothing, _less_ than nothing, what he thinks of me. I can keep my +own self-respect, and that is all I need to care about." + +And so speaking to herself, in all sincerity, with no bravado or +exaggeration, Mary more firmly riveted her own decision, and determined +to go back upon it no more. + +But she was paler than usual this, morning when she made her appearance +at Mrs Greville's breakfast-table, and her eyes had an unmistakable +look of anxiety and weariness. + +"Have you not slept well, my dear Mary?" asked Mrs Greville, kindly. +"You look so tired, and last night you looked so _very_ well." + +Mary's colour rose quickly at these words and under the consciousness of +a somewhat searching glance from Mr Morpeth, who was seated opposite +her. + +"I am _perfectly_ well, thank you," she replied, to her hostess, "but +somehow I don't think I did sleep quite as soundly as usual." + +"Miss Western's room is not haunted, surely?" said Mr Morpeth, +laughing. "All this sounds so like the preamble to some ghostly +revelation." + +"No, indeed. There is no corner of this house that we could possibly +flatter ourselves was haunted. I wish there were--it is all so _very_ +modern," said Mrs Greville. "At Romary, now, there is such an +exquisite haunted room--or suite of rooms rather. They are never used, +but I think them the prettiest rooms in the house. It _is_ so provoking +that the Cheviotts are at home just now. I should so have liked you and +Cecilia to see the house, Frances--and you, too, Mary, as you had never +been there, and we can get an order from the agent any time." + +"I think the outside of the house as well worth seeing as any part of +it," said Mr Greville. "It is so well situated, and seen from the high +road it looks very well indeed. By-the-bye, I shall be driving that way +this afternoon if any of you young ladies care to come with me in the +dog-cart? I am going on to Little Bexton, but if you don't care to come +so far, I could drop you about Romary, and you could walk back. The +country is not pretty after that. Would you like to come, Frances? +Cecilia has a cold, I hear." + +"Yes," said Cecilia, "but not a very bad one. But I don't think either +of us can go, Mr Greville, for Miss Bentley is coming to see us this +afternoon, and we must not be out." + +"Mary, then?" said Mr Greville. + +Mary's heart was beating fast, and she was almost afraid that the +tremble in her voice was perceptible as she replied that she would enjoy +the drive very much, she was sure. + +"But I will not go all the way to Little Bexton, I think, if you don't +mind dropping me on the road. I should like the walk home," she said to +Mr Greville, and so it was decided. And for a wonder nothing came in +the way. + +It was years and years since Mary had been at Romary. When Mr Greville +"dropped her" on the road, at a point about half a mile beyond the lodge +gates, all about her seemed so strange and unfamiliar that she could +scarcely believe she had ever been there before. Strange and +unfamiliar, even though she was not more than ten miles from her own +home, and though the general features of the landscape were the same. +For to a real dweller in the country, differences and variations, which +by a casual visitor are unobservable, are extraordinarily obtrusive. +Mary had lived all her life at Hathercourt, and knew its fields and its +trees, its cottages and lanes, as accurately as the furniture of her +mother's drawing-room. It was strange to her to meet even a dog on the +road whose ownership she was unacquainted with, and when a countryman or +two passed her with half a stare of curiosity instead of the familiar +"Good-day to you, Miss Mary," she felt herself "very far west" indeed, +and instinctively hastened her steps. + +"It is a good thing no one does know me about here," she said to +herself; "but how strange it seems! What a different life we have led +from most people nowadays! I dare say it would never occur to Miss +Cheviott, for instance, to think it at all strange to meet people on the +road whose names and histories she knew nothing of. Young as she is, I +dare say she has more friends and acquaintances than she can remember. +How different from Lilias and me--ah, yes, it is _that_ that makes what +her brother has done so awfully wrong--so _mean_--but will he +understand? Shall I be able to show it him?" + +Mary stopped short--she was close to the lodge gates now. She stood +still for a moment in a sort of silence of excitement and +determination--then resolutely walked on again and hesitated no more. +These Romary lodge gates had become to her a Rubicon. + +It was a quarter of a mile at least from the gates to the house, but to +Mary it seemed scarcely half a dozen yards. As in a dream she walked on +steadily, heedless of the scene around her, that at another time would +have roused her keen admiration--the beautiful old trees, beautiful even +in leafless February; the wide stretching park with its gentle ups and +downs and far-off boundary of forestland; the wistful-eyed deer, too +tame to be scared by her approach; the sudden vision of a rabbit +scuttering across her path--Mary saw none of them. Only once as she +stood still for an instant to unlatch a gate in the wire fence inclosing +the grounds close to the house, she looked round her and her gaze rested +on a cluster of oaks at a little distance. + +"When I see that clump of trees next," she said to herself, "it will be +over, and I shall know Lilias's fate." + +Then she walked on again. + +The bell clanged loudly as she pulled it at the hall door--to Mary, at +least, it sounded so, and the interval was very short between its tones +fading away into silence and the door's being flung open by a footman, +who gave a little start of astonishment when Mary's unfamiliar voice +caught his ear. + +"I thought it was Miss Cheviott; I beg your pardon, ma'am," he said, +civilly enough, and the civility was a relief to Mary. "Is it Miss +Cheviott you wish to see?" + +"No, thank you," said Mary, quietly. "I want to see _Mr_ Cheviott, if +he is at home--on a matter of business, perhaps you will be good enough +to say." + +The man looked puzzled, and, for a moment, hesitated. + +"If it is anything I could say, perhaps," he began. "Unless it was +anything very particular. My master is very busy to-day, and gave +orders not to be disturbed." + +"It is something particular--that is to say, I wish to see Mr Cheviott +himself. Perhaps you will _inquire_ if he is to be seen," said Mary, +more coldly. + +The man looked at her again, and Mary felt glad she had not her old +waterproof cloak on. As it was, she was prettily, at least not +unbecomingly, dressed in a thick, rough tweed and small, close-fitting +felt hat. Her boots were neat, and her gloves--the only new pair she +had had this winter--fitted well. There was nothing about her attire +plainer or poorer than what would be worn by many a girl of her age, +"regardless of expense," for a country ramble. And Mr Cheviott's +servant was not to know it was all her Sunday best! Then she was tall! +An immense advantage, now and then, in life. + +"Certainly, ma'am, I will inquire at once," said the man. He was a +new-comer who had served a town apprenticeship to the dangers of +indiscriminate admittance, and felt, despite appearances, he must be on +his guard against a young woman who so resolutely demanded a personal +interview with a gentleman. A man in disguise--what might she not be? +But something in Mary's low-toned "thank you" re-assured him. + +"Will you step into the library while I ask?" he said, amiably, and Mary +judged it best to do as he proposed. + +There was no one in the library, and one of Mary's but half-acknowledged +wild hopes faded away as she entered the empty room. She had had a +dream of perhaps meeting with Alys in the first place--the girl with the +beautiful face and bewitching smile--of her guessing her errand, and +pleading on her side. + +"She looked so sympathisingly at me that night at Brocklehurst," thought +Mary--"almost as if she suspected my anxiety. Oh! if only I could talk +to _her_, instead of that proud, cold brother of hers!" + +But there was no Alys in the library, and an instant's thought reminded +Mary that of course she, a stranger calling on "business," would not +have been ushered except by mistake into Miss Cheviott's presence, and +she gave a little sigh as she mechanically crossed the room and stood +gazing out of the window. + +The servant's voice recalled her thoughts. + +"Your name, if you please, ma'am?" he was asking. + +Mary was prepared for this. + +"It would be no use giving my name," she said quietly. "If you will be +so good as to say to Mr Cheviott that I am only in this neighbourhood +for a day or two, and have called to see him purely on a matter of +business, I shall be much obliged to you." + +The man left the room. He went into Mr Cheviott's Study by another +door than the one by which it communicated with the library, but through +this last, firmly closed though it was, in a moment or two the murmur of +voices caught Mary's quick ears, then some words, spoken loudly enough +for her to distinguish their Sense. + +"_Where_, do you say--in the library? A lady! Nonsense, it must be +some mistake." + +Then the servant's voice again in explanation. Mary moved away from the +vicinity of the treacherous door. + +A minute or two passed. Then the man appeared again. + +"I am sorry, ma'am," he began, apologetically, "but particularly obliged +by your sending my master your name. He is so much engaged to-day-- +would like to understand if it is anything very particular, and--" He +hesitated, not liking to repeat his own suggestion to Mr Cheviott that +very likely the young lady was collecting for the foreign missions, or a +school treat, and might just as well as not send her message by him. + +"It _is_ something particular," said Mary, chafing inwardly not a little +at the difficulty of obtaining an audience of Mr Cheviott--"as if he +were a royal personage almost," she said to herself. "You can tell Mr +Cheviott that the business on which I wish to see him is something +particular; and my name is Miss Western." + +Again the envoy disappeared. Again the murmuring voices through the +door, then a hasty sound as of some one pushing back a chair in +impatience, and in another moment the door between the rooms opened, and +some one came into the library. Not the man-servant this time, nor did +he, lingering behind his master in the study in hopes of quenching his +curiosity, obtain much satisfaction, for Mr Cheviott, advancing but one +step into the library, and catching sight of its occupant, turned +sharply and closed the door in the man's face before giving any sign of +recognition of his visitor--before, in fact, seeming to have perceived +her at all. Then he came forward slowly. + +Mary was still standing; as Mr Cheviott came nearer her, she bowed +slightly, and began at once to speak. + +"I can hardly expect you to recognise me," she said, calmly. "I am Miss +Western, the _second_ Miss Western, from Hathercourt." + +Mr Cheviott bowed. + +"I had the pleasure of being intro--I had the honour of meeting you at +one of the Brocklehurst balls," he said, inquiringly. + +"Yes," said Mary, "and once before--at Hathercourt Church one Sunday +when you and your friends came over to the morning service. Before that +day I do not think I ever heard your name, and yet I have come to your +house to-day to say to you what it would be hard to say to an old +friend--to ask you to listen while I try to make you see that you have +been interfering unwarrantably in other people's affairs; that what you +have done is a cruel and bad thing, a thing you may sorely repent, that +I believe you _will_ repent, Mr Cheviott, if you are not already doing +so?" + +She raised her voice slightly to a tone of inquiry as she stopped, and, +for the first time, looked up, straight into Mr Cheviott's face. She +had been speaking in a low tone, but with great distinctness and without +hurry, yet when she left off it seemed as if her breath had failed her, +as if her intense nervous resolution could carry her no further. Now +she waited anxiously to see the effect of her words; she had determined +beforehand to plunge at once, without preamble, into what she had to +say, yet even now she was dissatisfied with what she had done. It +seemed to her that she had made her appeal in an exaggerated and +theatrical fashion; she wished she had waited for Mr Cheviott to speak +first. + +She looked at him, and for an instant there was silence. His +countenance was not so stern and impassive as she had once before seen +it, but its expression was even more unpromising. It bespoke extreme +annoyance and surprise, "disgusted surprise," said Mary to herself; "he +thinks me lost to all sense of propriety, I can see." + +She could _not_ see her own face; she was unconscious of the pale +anxiety which overspread it, of the wistful questioning in the brown +eyes which Mr Cheviott remembered so bright and sunny; she could not +know that it would have needed a more than hard heart, an actually cruel +one, not to be touched by the intensity in her young face--by the pathos +of her position of appeal. + +At first some instinct--a not unchivalrous instinct either--urged Mr +Cheviott to refrain from a direct reply to Mary's unmistakably direct +attack. + +"Will she not regret this fearfully afterwards?" he said to himself. +"When she finds that I remain quite untouched, when she decides, as she +_must_, that I am a brute! I will give her time to draw back by showing +her the uselessness of all this before she commits herself further." + +But Mary saw his hesitation, and it deepened the resentment with which +she heard his reply. + +"Miss Western," he said, "you must be under some extraordinary delusion. +I will not pretend entire ignorance of what your words--words that, of +course, from a lady I cannot resent--of what your words refer to, but +pray stop before you say more. I ventured once before to try to warn +you--or rather another through you, and this, I suppose, has led to your +taking this--this very unusual step," ("what a mean brute I am making of +myself," he said to himself, "but it is the kindest in the end to show +her the hopelessness at once")--"under, I must repeat, some delusion, or +rather complete misapprehension of my possible influence in the matter." + +Mary was silent. + +"You must allow me to remind you," continued Mr Cheviott, hating +himself, or the self he was obliged to make himself appear, more and +more with each word he uttered, "that you are very young and +inexperienced, and little attentions--passing trivialities, in fact, +which more worldly-wise young ladies would attach no significance to, +may have acquired a mistaken importance with you and your sister. I am +very sorry--_very_ sorry that any one connected with me should have +acted so thoughtlessly; but you must allow, Miss Western, that I warned +you--Went out of my way to warn you, as delicately as I knew how, when I +saw the danger of--of--any mistake being made." + +Mary heard him out. Then she looked up again, with no appeal this time +in her eyes, but in its stead righteous wrath and indignation. + +"You are not speaking the truth," she said, "at least, what you are +_inferring_ is not the truth. If it were the case that Captain +Beverley's `attentions' to my sister were so trifling and meaningless-- +such as he may have paid to other girls scores of times--_why_ did you +go out of your way to warn us? It could not possibly have been out of +respect for us; you knew and cared as little about us as we about you, +and if you had said it was out of any care for us, the saying so would +have been an unwarrantable freedom. No, Mr Cheviott, you knew Captain +Beverley was in earnest, and your pride took fright lest he should make +so poor a marriage. That is the truth, but I wish you had not made +matters worse by denying it." + +The blood mounted to Mr Cheviott's forehead; his dark face looked +darker. That last speech of his had been a false move, and Mary knew +it, and he knew it; still his presence of mind did not desert him. + +"Believing what you do, then, Miss Western--I shall not again trouble +you to believe anything _I_ say--may I ask how, supposing my cousin to +have been, as you express it, in earnest, you explain his not having +gone further?" + +"How I explain it?" exclaimed Mary. "You ask me that? I explain it by +the fact that brought me here; _you_ stopped his going further." + +"Influenced, no doubt, by the pride you alluded to just now." + +"Yes, I suppose so," said Mary, dejectedly. "Influenced, at least, by +some motive that blinded you to what you were doing. A girl's broken +heart is a trifle, I know, but the loss of a good influence over a man's +life is not a trifle, even you will allow. Captain Beverley thinks he +owes you a great deal; I strongly suspect he owes you a great deal more +than he at present realises. Mr Cheviott, do you not _know_ that what +you have done is a wrong and bad thing?" + +Again her eyes took the pleading expression. Mr Cheviott turned away +to avoid it. Then he said, very coldly: + +"It is extremely unpleasant to have to say unpleasant things, but you +force me to it. Supposing, for argument's sake--supposing things were +as you believe, I should certainly act as you believe I have acted. I +should by every means in my power, endeavour to prevent my cousin's +making a marriage which would be utterly ill-advised and unsuitable, +which would destroy his happiness, and which I cannot believe would be +for the happiness of any one concerned." + +Mary's face grew white as death. It was all over, then. She had +lowered herself to this man for nothing. In the misery of thoroughly +realising her defeat--the downthrow of all the hopes which unconsciously +she had been cherishing more fondly than she had had any idea of--she, +for the moment, forgot to be angry--she lost sight, as it were, of Mr +Cheviott; in the depth of her disappointment, he became simply the +incarnation of a cruel fate. + +But he, at this juncture, was very far from losing sight of Mary. Her +silent pallor frightened him, he thought she was going to faint, and he +felt as if he were a murderer. A rush of pity and compunction roused +his instinct of hospitality. + +"Miss Western," he said, gently, and with a look in his eyes of which +Mary, when she afterwards recalled it, could not altogether deny the +kindness and sympathy, "I fear you have overtired yourself. This +wretched business has been too much for you. Will you allow me to get +you a glass of wine?" + +Mary hastily shook her head, and the effort to recover her +self-control--for she felt herself on the point of bursting into tears-- +brought back the colour to her cheeks. + +"I will go now," she said, turning towards the door. + +Mr Cheviott interrupted her. + +"Will you not allow me to say one word of regret for the pain I have +caused you?" he said, anxiously, humbly almost, "will you not allow me +to say how deeply I admire and--and respect your courage and sisterly +devotion?" + +Mary shook her head. + +"No," she said. "I could not believe you if you said anything of the +kind, knowing you now as I do. And I earnestly hope I may never see you +and never speak to you again." + +The words were childish, but the tone and manner gave them force, and +their force went home. Mr Cheviott winced visibly. Yet once again he +spoke. + +"You may resent my saying so at present," he said, "but afterwards you +may be glad to recall my assurance that no one shall ever hear from me +one word of what has been said just now." + +Mary turned upon him with ineffable contempt. + +"I dare say not," she said. "For your own sake you will do well to keep +silence. For _mine_ you may tell it where and to whom you choose." + +Again Mr Cheviott's face flushed. + +"You are a foolish child," he said, under his breath. Whether Mary +caught the words or not he could not tell, but in a gentler tone she +added, as she was passing through the door-way, "I think, however, I +should tell you that no one--my sister, of course not--_no one_ knows of +my coming here to-day." + +Mr Cheviott bowed. + +"I am glad to hear it," he said, with what Mary imagined to be extreme +irony. + +He crossed the hall with her, and opened the large door himself. But +Mary did not look at him as she passed out. And, when she had got some +way down the carriage-drive in sight of the dump of oak trees, she burst +into a flood of bitter tears. Tears that Mr Cheviott suspected, though +he did not see them. + +"Poor child," he said, as he returned to his study, "I trust she will +meet no one in the park. Those gossiping servants--Well, _surely_ I can +never have a more wretched piece of work to go through than this! What +a mean, despicable snob she thinks me!" he laughed, bitterly. "Why, I +wonder, is it the fate of some people to be constantly doing other +people's dirty work? I have had my share of it, Heaven knows; but I +think I am growing quite reckless to what people think of me. What eyes +that child has--and how she must love that sister of hers! If it had +been _she_ that Arthur had made a fool of himself about--" + +CHAPTER FIFTEEN. + +"DOING" ROMARY. + + "She told the tale with bated breath-- + `A sad old story; is it true?'" + +There was no good, there seldom is any, in crying about it. And Mary's +tears were those rather of anger and indignation than of sorrow. The +sorrow was there, but it lay a good deal lower down, and she had no +intention of letting any one suspect its existence, nor that of her +present discomfort, in any way. So she soon left off crying, and tried +to rally again the temporarily scattered forces of her philosophy. + +"Well," she reflected, "it has been a failure, and perhaps it was a +mistake. I must put it away among the good intentions that had better +have remained such. I must try to think I have at worst done Lilias's +cause no harm--honestly I don't think I have--nothing that I could say +would move that man one way or the other. And any way I meant well--my +darling!--I would do it all over again for you, would I not? My poor +Lily--to think how happy she might have been but for _him_. As for what +he thinks of me I do not care, deliberately and decidedly I do not care, +though just now it makes me feel hot,"--for the colour had mounted in +her face even while she was asserting her indifference--"or perhaps, to +be quite truthful, I should say I shall not care, very soon I shall not, +I know. I shall not even care what he says of me--except--it would be +rather dreadful if Lilias ever heard of it! but I do not think he will +ever speak of it--he has what people call the instincts of a gentleman, +I suppose." + +Mary walked on, she was close to the lodge gates now. Suddenly a quick +clatter behind her made her look round--a girl on horseback followed by +a groom was passing her, and as Mary glanced up she caught sight of the +bright, sweet face of Alys Cheviott. One instant she turned in Mary's +direction, and, it _seemed_ to Mary--conscious of red eyes and a half +guilty sensation of having no business within the gates--eyed her +curiously. But she did not stop, or even slacken her pace. "She cannot +have recognised me," said Mary. + +"And to-morrow," she thought, with a sigh, half of relief, half of +despair, "I shall be home again, and Lilias will be asking me if I came +across any of the Romary people, or heard anything about Arthur +Beverley." + +And when she got back to Uxley and Mrs Greville's afternoon tea, she +had to say how very much she had enjoyed her walk, and how pretty Romary +Park looked from the road. + +"Only," repeated Mrs Greville, "I do so wish the Cheviotts had been +away, and that I could have taken you all to see through the house and +gardens and everything," and Mary agreed that it was a great pity the +Cheviotts had not been away, thinking in her heart that it was perhaps a +greater pity than Mrs Greville had any idea of. + +How seldom to-morrow fulfills the predictions of to-day! On Wednesday +evening Mary was so sure she was going back to Hathercourt on Thursday +morning, and on Thursday morning a letter from Lilias upset all her +plans. It had been arranged that Mr Western should walk over to Uxley +on Thursday to lunch there, and be driven home with Mary in Mrs +Greville's pony-carriage; but Wednesday had brought news to Hathercourt +of the visit of a school inspector, and Mr Western's absence was not to +be thought of. + +"So," wrote Lilias, "mother and I have persuaded him to go on Friday +instead, if it will suit Mrs Greville equally well. If not, we shall +expect you home to-morrow, but do stay till Friday, if you can, Mary, +for I can see that poor papa has been rather looking forward to the +little change of a day at Uxley, and he has so few changes." + +Mary was longing to be home again, but her longings were not the +question, and as Friday proved to be equally convenient to Mrs +Greville, the matter was decided as Lilias wished. + +"But you look rather melancholy about it, Mary," said Mrs Greville. +"Are you homesick already?" + +Mary smiled. Mr Morpeth was looking at her with some curiosity. + +"Not exactly," she said, honestly. + +She glanced up and saw a smile pass round the table. + +"What are you all laughing at me for?" she said, smiling herself. + +"You are so dreadfully honest," said Mrs Greville. + +"And unsophisticated, I suppose," said Mary, "to own to the possibility +of anything so old-fashioned as homesickness." + +"It must be rather a nice feeling, I think," said Mr Morpeth. "I mean +to say it must be nice to have one place in the world one really longs +for. I have never known what that was--we were all at school for so +many years after our father's death--and since we have been together we +have been knocking about so, there was no chance of feeling anywhere at +home." + +"It must be dreadful to be homesick when one is very ill and has small +chance of ever seeing home again," said Cecilia Morpeth. "We used to +see so much of that at Mentone and those places. Invalids who had not +many days to live, just praying for home. Do you remember that poor +young Brooke, last winter, Frances?" + +"_That's_ it," exclaimed the elder Miss Morpeth, emphatically. + +Everybody stared at her. + +"What _is_ the matter? What are you talking about, Frances?" asked her +brother and sister. + +Miss Morpeth laughed. + +"You must have thought I was going out of my mind," she said, "but it +has bothered me so, and when Cecilia mentioned the Brookes, it flashed +before me in a moment." + +"_What_?" repeated Cecilia. + +"The likeness--don't you remember we were talking about it, last night, +in our own room? A curious likeness in Miss Western's face to some +one--I could not tell who. Don't you see it, Cecilia? Not to Basil +Brooke, but to the younger brother, Anselm--the one that used to ride +with us." + +"Yes," said Cecilia, "I see what you mean. It is especially when Miss +Western looks at all anxious or thoughtful." + +"It is curious," said Mary. "If we had any cousins, I should fancy +these Brookes you are talking of must be relations. My eldest brother's +name is Basil, and the second one is George Anselm, and my mother's name +was Brooke. But I think she told me all her family had died out-- +anyway, your friends can only be very distant relations." + +"But the likeness," said Miss Morpeth. "It is quite romantic isn't it? +I suppose you are like your mother, Miss Western?" + +"Yes," said Mary. + +"It is to be hoped the likeness goes no further than the face," said +Cecilia, thoughtlessly. "These Brookes are frightfully consumptive. I +beg your pardon," she added, seeing that Mary looked grave, "I should +not have said that." + +"I was not thinking of ourselves," said Mary. "I know _we_ are not +consumptive. I was trying to remember if I had ever heard mother speak +of any such cousins." + +"The consumption comes from their mother's side," said Miss Morpeth. "I +remember their aunt, Mrs Brabazon, telling me so. She was a Brooke, +and she was as strong as possible." + +"Basil Brooke is dead," said Mr Morpeth. "I saw his death in the +_Times_ last week, poor fellow!" + +"I will tell mother about them," said Mary, and then the conversation +went off to other subjects. + +An hour or two later, when Mary and the Morpeths were sitting in the +drawing-room together, and Mrs Greville was attending to her +housekeeping for the day, she suddenly re-appeared, with a beaming face. + +"Frances, Mary, Cecilia," she exclaimed, "_such_ a piece of good luck! +Mr Petre, Mr Cheviott's agent, has just been calling here to see Mr +Greville about some parish business, and I happened to say to him that I +had friends with me here who had such a wish to see Romary. And what +_do_ you think? Mr Cheviott and his sister _are_ away! They went +yesterday evening to pay a visit, somewhere in the neighbourhood, for +three days. And Mr Petre was so nice about it--he says he has perfect +_carte blanche_ about showing the house when they are away, and Mrs +Golding is always delighted to do the honours. So it is all fixed--we +are to go this afternoon--we must have luncheon a little earlier than +usual. So glad you are not going home to-day, Mary." + +Mary _felt_--afterwards she trusted she had not _looked_--aghast. What +evil genii have conspired to bring about such a scheme? To go to see +Romary--of all places on earth, the last she ever wished to re-enter--to +go to admire the possessions of the man who had done her more injury and +caused her deeper mortification than she had ever endured before! + +"Oh, Mrs Greville," she exclaimed, hastily. "It is very good of you, +but I don't think I care about going--you won't mind if I stay at home?" + +"If you stay at home!" said Mrs Greville, in amazement. "Of _course_ I +should mind. I made the plan quite as much for you as for Frances and +Cecilia; and only yesterday--or day before, was it?--you seemed so +interested in Romary, and so anxious to see it, you were asking ever so +many questions about it. I did not think you were so changeable." + +Mary's face flushed. + +"I did not mean to be changeable or to vex you, dear Mrs Greville," she +began, "only--" + +"Only what?" + +Mary had left her seat and come over to where Mrs Greville was +standing. + +"It is a very silly reason I was going to give," she said in a low +voice, trying to smile. "You remember my saying before how _very_ much +I dislike that Mr Cheviott." + +Mrs Greville could not help laughing. + +"Is that all?" she said. "Come now, Mary, I had no idea you could be so +silly. I have always looked upon you as such a model of good sense. I +began to think there must be some mystery you had not explained to me +about Lilias's affairs, of course, I mean," she added, in a whisper, +glancing at Mary with re-awakened curiosity in her eyes. + +Mary kept her countenance. + +"It is just as I said," she replied. "I can't give you any better +reason for not wanting to go than my dislike to that man." + +"Very well, then, you _must_ come. That might prevent your liking to +see _him_; it need not prevent your liking to see his house. Your not +coming would quite spoil our pleasure." + +Mary hesitated. Suddenly there flashed into her mind some of Lilias's +last words of warning. + +"Whatever you do, Mary," she had said, "don't let Mrs Greville get it +into her head that there has been anything mortifying to us--that Arthur +has behaved ill, I mean. I couldn't stand that being said." + +And Mary turned to Mrs Greville with a smile. + +"Very well," she said. "I won't be silly, and I will go." + +"That's all right," said Mrs Greville, and Mary wished she could have +said so too. + +After all, why not? It was entirely a matter of personal feeling on her +part; there was nothing unladylike or unusual in her going with the +others to see the show house of the neighbourhood; and yet the bare +thought of her doing so by any possibility coming to Mr Cheviott's ears +made her cheeks burn. + +"That horrible man-servant!" she said to herself--"supposing he +recognises me!" + +But there was no good in "supposings." She determined to make the best +of the unavoidable, though it was impossible altogether to refrain from +fruitless regrets that her return home had been delayed. + +Nothing came in the way of the expedition. The afternoon turned out +very fine, remarkably fine and mild for February, and the little party +that set out from the Vicarage would have struck any casual observer as +cheerful and light-hearted in the extreme. + +"Do you care about this sort of thing?" said Mr Morpeth to Mary, when +in the course of the walk they happened to fall a little behind the +others. + +"About what?" said Mary, absently. Her thoughts had been far away from +her companions; she now recalled them with some effort. + +"Going to see other people's houses," replied the young man. "I hate +it, though I have had more than my share of it, knocking about from +place to place, as we have been doing for so long." + +"Why do you hate it?" inquired Mary, with more interest. The mere fact +of Mr Morpeth's aversion to such expeditions in general seemed +congenial, smarting as she was with her own sore repugnance to this one +in particular. And even a shadow of sympathy in her present discomfort +was attractive to Mary to-day. + +Mr Morpeth kicked a pebble or two out of his path with a sort of boyish +impatience which made Mary smile. + +"Oh, I don't know," he replied, vaguely, "I always think it is a +snobbish sort of thing to do, going poking about people's rooms, and all +that. And if it's a pretty house, it makes one envious, and if it's +ugly, what's the good of seeing it?" + +Mary laughed. + +"I like seeing old houses--really old houses," she said. + +"Not ruins, but an old house still habitable enough to enable one to +fancy what it must have really been like `once upon a time.'" + +"Yes," said Mr Morpeth, "I know how you mean. But even that interest +goes off very quickly. We once lived near an old place that nearly took +my breath away with awe and admiration the first time I went through it. +But very soon it became as commonplace as anything, and I hated to hear +people go off into rhapsodies about it." + +"What a pity!" said Mary. "I don't know that I envy you people who have +travelled everywhere and seen everything. You don't enjoy little things +as we do who have seen nothing." + +"But you don't enjoy going to see this stupid place to-day," persisted +Mr Morpeth. "I know you don't, for I was in the drawing-room this +morning when you were all talking about it; I came in behind Mrs +Greville, and sat down in the corner, though you didn't see me." + +"Then if you heard all that was said you must have heard my reason for +disliking to go to see Romary," said Mary, in a tone of some annoyance. + +"Yes," said Mr Morpeth, coolly, "_I_ did. I wonder why you dislike +that unfortunate Mr What's-his-name so? For before you came Mrs +Greville entertained us with a wonderful story about a ball and a very +grand gentleman who never looks at young ladies at all, having quite +succumbed to--" + +"Mr Morpeth," exclaimed Mary, stopping short and turning round on her +companion with scarlet cheeks, "I shall be _very_ angry if you speak +like that, and I don't think Mrs Greville should have--" + +"Please don't be angry. I didn't mean to vex you, and Mrs Greville was +not telling any secrets," said Mr Morpeth. "Only I have been wondering +ever since why you should have taken such a dislike to the poor man. +You must be very unlike other girls, Miss Western?" + +He looked at her with a sort of half innocent, half mischievous +curiosity, and somehow Mary could not keep up her indignation. + +"Well, perhaps I am," she said, good-naturedly. "All the same, Mr +Morpeth, you have got _quite_ a wrong idea about why I dislike Mr +Cheviott. Don't let us talk about him any more." + +"_I_ don't want to talk about him, I'm sure," said Mr Morpeth. "I only +wish he didn't live here, or hadn't a house which people insist on +dragging me to see. _I_ have no other ill-will at the unfortunate man." + +"Only you won't leave off talking about him," said Mary, "and we are +close to Romary now. See, that is the lodge gate--on there just past +the bend in the road." + +"Oh, you have been here before. I forgot," said her companion, simply. +But innocently as he spoke, his remark sent the blood flying again to +Mary's cheeks. + +"What shall I do if that horrible footman opens the door?" she said to +herself. + +But things seldom turn out as bad as we picture them--or, rather, they +seldom turn out as we picture them at all. The horrible footman did not +make his appearance--men-servants of no kind were visible--the house +seemed already in a half state of _deshabille_; only old Mrs Golding, +the housekeeper, came forward, with many apologies and regrets that she +had not known before of Mrs Greville's and her friends' coming. "Mr +Petre had only just sent word," and the carpets were up in the +morning-room and library! So sorry, she chatted on, but she was +thankful to take advantage of her master's and Miss Cheviott's absence, +even for a day of two, to get some cleaning done. + +"For a house like this takes a dell," She added, pathetically, appealing +to Mrs Greville, who answered good-humouredly that to be sure it must. + +"But the best rooms are not dismantled, I suppose?" she inquired. "The +great round drawing-room and the picture-gallery with the arched roof? +Just like a Church," she observed, parenthetically, to her companions; +"that is what I want you so much to see. And the old part of the house, +we are sure to see that, and it is really so curious." + +There was no "cleaning" going on in the great drawing-room, and Mrs +Golding led the way to its splendours with unconcealed satisfaction. It +was much like other big drawing-rooms, with an even greater air of +formality and unusedness than is often seen. + +Mary, who was not learned in old china, its chief attraction, turned +away with little interest, and wished Mrs Greville would hasten her +movements. + +"What splendid old damask these curtains are," she was saying to Mrs +Golding. "One could not buy stuff like this nowadays." + +"No, indeed, ma'am," said the housekeeper, shaking her head. "They must +have been made many a long year ago. But they're getting to look very +dingy--Miss Alys's always asking Mr Cheviott to refurnish this room. +But it must have been handsome in its day--I remember being here once +when I was a girl and seeing it all lighted up. I did think it +splendid." + +"There are some _very_ old rooms, are there not?" said Mary. + +"Yes, miss, the tapestry rooms," said Mrs Golding. "There's a stair +leading up to them that opens out of the picture-gallery--the only other +way to them is through Mr Cheviott's own rooms, and he always keeps +that way locked, as no one else uses it. The stair runs right down to +the side-door on the terrace, so it's a convenient way of getting in +from the garden," continued the communicative housekeeper. "But there's +not many in the house cares to go near those rooms, for they say the +middle one's haunted." + +"Dear me, this is getting interesting," said Mr Morpeth. "What or whom +is it haunted by, pray?" + +Mrs Golding looked up at him sharply, then with a slight smile she +shook her head. + +"You would only make fun of it if I told you, sir," she said, "and +somehow one doesn't care to have old stories made fun of, silly though +they may be." + +"No," said Mary, "one doesn't. I think you are quite right," and the +old woman looked pleased. + +"You won't prevent my seeing the haunted room, though you won't tell me +its story?" said Mr Morpeth, good-naturedly. So Mrs Golding led the +way. + +They passed along the arched picture-gallery, which in itself merited +Mrs Greville's praises, though the pictures it contained were neither +many nor remarkable. + +"I like this room," said Mary, approvingly. "It is much less +commonplace than the drawing-room--not that I have seen many great +houses," she added, with a smile, to Mr Morpeth, who was walking beside +her, "but this is a room one would remember wherever one went." + +"Yes," said Mr Morpeth. "It is a room with a character of its own, +certainly. Frances will be calling it romantic and picturesque and all +the rest of it. I am so tired of all those words." + +"I am afraid you are tired of most things," said Mary. "See what an +advantage we dwellers at home have over you travelled people!" + +Her spirits were rising. So far there had been nothing at all in the +expedition to arouse her fears, and she began to think they had been +exaggerated. + +"Which is the way to the haunted room?" asked Mr Morpeth, when they +were all tired of admiring the picture-gallery. + +Mrs Golding replied by opening a door at the further end of the room +from that at which they had entered. It led into a little vestibule up +one side of which ran a narrow staircase. + +"Up that stair, sir," she said to Mr Morpeth, "you get into a passage +with two doors, one of them leads into the new part of the house and one +into the old tapestry rooms--it is one of those rooms that is haunted." + +"Let us see if we can guess which it is," exclaimed Mr Morpeth, +springing up the staircase. His sister and Mrs Greville followed him, +but Mary lingered a little behind. + +"What is the story of the haunted room?" she said, in a low voice, to +the housekeeper. + +Mrs Golding smiled. She had somehow taken a liking to this +quietly-dressed, quietly-spoken young lady, with the pretty eyes and +pleasant voice. + +"To tell you the truth, miss," she answered, "I do not very rightly +know, it myself. It was something about a lady from foreign parts that +was brought here sorely against her will by one of the old lords--I +think I have heard said they were once lords--of Romary. He wanted her +to marry him, but she would not. Whether he forced her to give in or +not I can't tell, but the end of it was she killed herself--I fancy she +threw herself out of the window of the room where he had imprisoned her. +And since then they say she is to be seen there now and then." + +"Was it very long ago?" + +"I couldn't say. It was at the time, I know, when there was wars in +foreign parts, and that was how the squire of Romary had found the lady. +Miss Alys knows all the story--that's our young lady. Miss Cheviott I +should say. It is a sad enough story anyway." + +"Yes," said Mary, "ghost stories always are, I think. It is queer that +the people who have been the most miserable in this world are always the +ones who are supposed not to be able to rest without returning to it." + +But just then a voice from above interrupted them. + +"Miss Western," it said, "do come up. This is the jolliest place of the +whole house." + +So Mary ran up the staircase. Mr Morpeth was waiting for her at the +top. + +CHAPTER SIXTEEN. + +THE HAUNTED ROOM. + + "Startled by her own thoughts, she looked around: + There was no fair fiend near her." + + _Shelley_. + +It was really a very respectable attempt at a haunted room. + +"Something like, isn't it?" said Mr Morpeth, looking round him with +approval, while Miss Morpeth shivered and declared she would not care to +spend a night in it, and Miss Cecilia laughed at her and said she would +like nothing better than to stay there till to-morrow morning, to see +what was to be seen. + +"Nonsense, my dear," said Mrs Greville. "You would be as frightened as +possible long before it got dark." + +"She would be in hysterics in half an hour," said her brother, politely. + +"I am _sure_ I wouldn't," protested Cecilia. "Miss Western, you +wouldn't be afraid to spend the night here, would you?" + +"I don't know," said Mary, doubtfully. "I almost think I should be. +Those faces in the tapestry are so ghostly. I suppose," she went on, +simply, "if I _had_ to stay here--I mean if there were any good reason +for it, I should not be frightened--but I shouldn't feel inclined to try +it just as a test of bravery." + +"As a piece of foolish bravado, _I_ should call it," said Mrs Greville. + +"It would be an awkward place to be shut up in," said Mrs Golding, "for +the door is in the tapestry, you see, ladies,"--she closed it as she +spoke--"and it opens with a spring, and unless one knows the exact spot +to press, it would be very difficult to find. The other door, which +leads into the new part of the house, is hidden in the same way." + +She crossed the room, and, almost without hesitation, pressed a spot in +the wall, and a door flew open. It led into another room, something +like the first, but rather more modern in its furniture. All the party +pressed forward. + +"There is nothing particular to see here," said Mrs Golding, "but this +room opens again into the white corridor, where my master's own rooms +are. There is a very pretty view from the window at the end, if you +would come this way, and we can get round to the front of the house +again." + +A sudden impulse seized Mary. + +"Mrs Greville," she said, "I would like to go out into the garden by +the door at the foot of the stair we tame up. Mayn't I go back? I will +meet you at the front of the house." + +"Very well," said Mrs Greville. "You are such an odd girl, Mary," she +added, in a lower voice, "I suppose your dislike to Mr Cheviott +prevents your liking to see his rooms!" + +Mary laughed, but coloured a little too. + +"Then I'll meet you at the front of the house," she said, as she turned +away. + +"Let me go with you," put in Mr Morpeth--the others, under Mrs +Golding's guidance, had already passed on--"it wouldn't do for you to go +prowling about those ghostly rooms all by yourself, Miss Western. Who +knows what might happen to you?" + +Mary laughed again--this time more heartily. + +"It's not dark enough yet to be frightened," she said, as they +re-entered the haunted chamber, where already the heavy old hangings had +toned down the afternoon light into dimness. + +"Hardly," said Mr Morpeth, carelessly, stepping forward to the window +as he spoke. Mary was following him when a slight sound arrested her. + +"Mr Morpeth," she exclaimed, "it is to be hoped we can get out by the +other door, for the one we have just come in by was shut behind us; I +heard it click; it is my fault. I never thought about its being a +spring door, and I let it swing to." + +She looked startled and a little pale. Mr Morpeth was surprised at her +seeming to take it so seriously, and felt half inclined to banter her. + +"We never meant to go back by the door we came in by," he said. "What +would have been the good of that? We'll find the other in a minute-- +sure to; don't look so aghast, Miss Western. At the worst we can ring +the bells and alarm the house till some one comes to let us out. You +are surely not afraid that we shall have to get out by the window?" + +As he spoke he crossed over to the side of the room where, to their +knowledge, the second door _was_, if only they could find it! Mr +Morpeth, at first, began feeling about in a vague way, as if expecting +to light upon the spring by a happy accident. But no such result +followed; he began to look a little more thoughtful. + +"Let's see," he said, consideringly, "whereabouts was it we first came +into the room?" + +Mary stepped backwards close to the wall, and then moved slowly along, +keeping her back to it. + +"It must have been about here, I think," she said, stopping short. "I +remember the first thing I caught sight of was that cabinet, and it +seemed just opposite me; and Mrs Greville standing in front of it +seemed to shut out that narrow pane of the window. Yes," as Mr Morpeth +put himself in the position she described--"yes, she was standing just +there; the door _must_ be hereabouts." + +They turned to search more systematically, but in vain. Peer as they +would into every square inch of the musty tapestry hangings within a +certain radius, feel as they would, up and down, right and left, higher +up than Mrs Golding could possibly have reached, lower down than any +door within the memory of man ever locked; it was all in vain. Then +they looked at each other. + +"It must be a spring pressing inwards--flat on the surface," said Mr +Morpeth. "I thought there would have been a little knob of some kind. +However, let's try again." + +He moved his hand slowly around the wall, pressing carefully, anxiously +endeavouring to detect the slightest inequality or indentation, and Mary +followed his example till their patience was exhausted. Then again they +stopped and looked at each other. + +"Would it be any good trying to find the spring of the other door?" said +Mary, at last. + +"I don't fancy it would," said Mr Morpeth. "You see, we're quite in +the dark as to what sort of spring it is; we may have touched it twenty +times, but not pushed or pressed it the right way. Don't you think we'd +better just not bother for a little? They're sure to miss us before +long, and then that old party will hunt us up." + +But Mary looked by no means disposed to take things so philosophically. + +"I don't know that they _will_ miss us so quickly," she said. "It will +take them some time to go all over the front of the house, and if they +don't find us in the grounds they are sure just to think we have walked +on. I am sure Mrs Greville will think so, any way; she always takes +things so comfortably," she added, with an uneasy reflection that Mrs +Greville would probably be rejoicing at the success of her amiable +scheme for throwing herself and "young Morpeth" together. "I _wish_ I +had not left the others." + +Mr Morpeth smiled. + +"I really think you are wasting a great deal of unnecessary energy on +our misadventure," he said. "_I_ don't see anything so very desperate +about it. If we were in a box now, like that girl at Modena, +Guinevere--no, Genevieve--no, bless me, I can't remember. You know whom +I mean--we _might_ be rather uneasy. But at the _very_ worst we cannot +be left here more than an hour or two. I dare say the housekeeper will +be coming back to look for us immediately, for she will know how awkward +these doors are." + +"Yes," said Mary, "I do think that is not unlikely. She did not hear us +speak of going back to the gardens though, did she? she had gone on in +front." + +"But she is pretty sure to miss us, and ask what had become of us--she's +not a stupid old lady by any means. Just let's wait here comfortably a +few minutes, and see if she doesn't come." + +Mary tried to take his advice, but as the minutes passed she grew more +and more uncomfortable. + +"I say," exclaimed Mr Morpeth, "supposing we try to make ourselves +heard somehow. I never thought of that. Very likely there are +offices--pantries, or kitchens, and so on under these rooms. There's no +bell, but supposing we jump on the floor and scream--I'll jump, if you +will be so good as to scream--some one will be sure to hear us and rush +up to see what's happening in the haunted room." + +But at this proposal Mary grew literally white with anxiety. + +"Oh, _please_ don't, Mr Morpeth," she said, so beseechingly that the +young man looked at her with more concern than he had yet shown. + +"What a queer girl she must be to take it to heart so!" he said to +himself. + +"_Please_ don't," she repeated. "It would make such a to-do. I should +be so dreadfully annoyed--oh, _please_ don't." + +"That horrible footman" was the great terror in her mind; "if he came up +and saw me he would be sure to tell his master. What would Mr Cheviott +think of me if he heard of my being here, prying about his house the +very day after?" + +"Very well. _I'm_ very comfortable. I'm quite content to wait till +some one comes to let us out," said Mr Morpeth. "It was you, Miss +Western, that was in such a hurry." + +Which was true enough. Mary did not know what to say--only her +uneasiness increased. It began to grow dusk too--outside among the +trees it was getting to look decidedly dusk. + +"What shall we do?" she exclaimed at last, in a sort of desperation. +"Evidently they are not missing us, and will not do so till they get +home, and then there will be _such_ a fuss! Oh, Mr Morpeth," she went +on, as a new idea struck her, "do you think you could possibly get out +of the window?" + +She said it so simply, and was evidently so much in earnest, that Mr +Morpeth gave up for once his habit of looking at the ludicrous side, and +set to work to discover how this last suggestion could be carried out. +The window was much more easy to deal with than the doors. It opened at +once, and, leaning over, Mr Morpeth descried a little ledge below it, +leading to the top of the porch above the side-door into the shrubbery. + +"I can easily get out," he said, turning back to Mary, "but once I am +out what do you want me to do? You don't want any fuss, but I must tell +somebody to come and get you out." + +"Oh, yes, of course--if you could find Mrs Greville and ask her to tell +the housekeeper of the door's having shut to, she would come and open +it," said Mary. "If you could just tell her in a matter-of-fact way, +you know. What I don't want is a great rush of all the servants and +people about the place to see me locked up here; it would be so +uncomfortable. I'll wait here quite patiently once I know you've gone, +for you'll be sure to find them." + +"I'll do my best," said Mr Morpeth, quietly, "and of course if I +_should_ break my neck or my arms or anything, there will be the +satisfaction of knowing it was in a good cause." + +Mary started forward. + +"You don't mean that there is really any risk for you," she exclaimed. +"No, I am sure there isn't," she continued, after looking out of the +window, and examining it for herself, "of course, if there was, I +shouldn't want you to go. You are laughing at me because you think me +very silly--I am very sorry, but I can't help it. I do _so_ wish I +hadn't come here--I wish I could get out of the window too!" + +"No, indeed, it would not be safe for you at all," said Mr Morpeth, +hastily, concealing his private opinion that the feat was not so easy as +it looked. "I am a good climber and I've had plenty of practice. It is +nothing for me, but it would be quite different for you--promise me, +Miss Western, you will not try to get out of the window while I am away. +I shall be as quick as I can, but I may not be able to find the others +all at once." + +"Very well," said Mary. "I do promise. Not that I ever meant to get +out of the window, I assure you." + +Mr Morpeth clambered out successfully. Mary watched him groping along +the ledge, holding on first by a projecting window sash, then by a +water-pipe, then by what she could not tell--somehow or other he had +made his way to the roof of the door porch, and was hidden from her +sight. But, in a minute, a whistle and a low call of "all right" +satisfied her as to his safety. + +"He is very good-natured," thought Mary. "He called out softly on +purpose not to attract attention. What a silly girl he must think me, +to make such a fuss about such a simple thing! But I can't help it." + +She drew back from the window and sat down on one of the +straight-backed, tapestry-cushioned chairs, and began to calculate how +long she would probably have to wait. Ten minutes at most--it could not +take longer to run round to the front of the house and find Mrs +Golding. + +"They will come back by that door," said Mary, to herself, directing her +eyes towards the invisible entrance by which she and Mr Morpeth had +returned to the haunted room. "How glad I shall be when I see it open! +How I wish I had a watch! It would pass the time to count the minutes +till they come--but I could hardly see the minute hand on a watch even +now. How dark it is getting! It is those great trees outside--in +summer, no light at all can get in here I should think." + +She got up and turned again to the window, fancying that looking out +would be a little less gloomy than sitting staring at the old furniture +and the shadowy figures on the walls, growing more and more weird and +gruesome as the light faded. But, standing there at the window, there +returned to her mind the tragic story of which Mrs Golding had given, +her the outlines, and, despite her endeavours to think of something +else, her imagination persisted in filling in the details. "She had +thrown herself out of the window in despair," Mrs Golding had told of +the unhappy prisoner, and Mary recalled it with a slight shudder. + +Was it much to be wondered at? Any one would grow desperate shut up +within these four gloomy walls--gloomy now, and gloomy then, no doubt, +for the tapestry was _very_ old--older, probably, than the date of the +story--and the room had ever since been left much as it was at that +time. It was a ghastly story, as much for what had preceded the final +tragedy as for the catastrophe itself. + +"It is so _very_ horrible to think of any one's having been shut up in +this very room for days, and weeks, and months, perhaps," thought Mary. +"And to think that her only way out of it was to many a man she hated! +Still, whoever she was, she must have been brave; the only inconsistent +part of the story is her being supposed to haunt the place she must have +had such a horror of. Dear me, how dark it is getting!--how I do wish +they would come, and how I wish I had not heard that story!" + +Mary left the window again, and sat down on one of the hard, high-backed +chairs. In spite of her anxiety and excitement, she was growing very +tired, and once or twice she almost felt as if she were getting sleepy. +But she was determined not to yield to this. + +"It would be far worse if I fell asleep, and woke to find myself all in +the dark," she said to herself. "If I have to stay all night, I must +keep awake, and, indeed, it begins to look very like having to stay all +night. What can have become of Mr Morpeth? I am sure he has been gone +half an hour." + +She listened till her ears were strained, but there was no sound. Then +again the confused, sleepy feeling came over her; she dozed +unconsciously for a minute or two, to be awakened suddenly by what in +her sleep had seemed a loud noise. Mary started up, her heart beating +violently, but she heard nothing for a moment or two. Then there came a +faint creaking sound, as of some one coming up the staircase and along +the passage outside. It was not the side from which she was looking for +assistance, and, besides, whoever it was was approaching in perfect +silence. + +"Mr Morpeth would be sure to call out if it was he," she reflected; +"besides, Mrs Golding would be with him, and they would come the other +way. Who can it be? Oh! supposing--just _supposing_ the ghost were to +come in, what should I do? I should always be told it was a dream; but +I am not dreaming. And _something_ must have been seen, otherwise there +would not be the story about it." + +All this flashed through her mind in an instant. She got up from her +chair with a vague intention of escaping, hiding herself somewhere, +anywhere, but sat down again, as the steps came nearer and nearer, with +a feeling of hopelessness. How could she escape? Where could she hide +herself? There was no cupboard or recess, not even a curtain, in the +bare, half-furnished room; she must just wait where she was, whatever +happened, and, as if fascinated, poor Mary sat gazing on that part of +the wall where she knew the door to be. Another moment--it seemed to +her hours--and she heard the slight click of the concealed spring, and, +thank Heavens, it was no ghost in flowing white, but a gentleman in a +great-coat! Thus much Mary could discern, dusk though it was, even at +the first glance, to her inexpressible relief. + +"Mr Morpeth," she exclaimed, "is it you? Oh, I am so thankful! But +why--" + +The voice that interrupted her was not Mr Morpeth's. + +"Who is there? Is it you, Mrs Golding? What is the matter?" exclaimed +the some one whose approach had so terrified her. + +An instant's pause; Mary's wits, beginning to recover themselves, were +all but scattered again as a frightful suspicion dawned upon her. Was +she dreaming, _could_ it be that her very worst misgiving was realised? +Who was it standing in frowning bewilderment before her? Ghost, +indeed--at that moment it seemed to her she would rather have faced +twenty ghosts than the living man before her. + +"Mr Cheviott!" she ejaculated, feebly, hardly conscious of speaking. + +Mr Cheviott came forward a little, but cautiously, and in evident +astonishment and perplexity. Something in the tone of the half whisper +struck him as familiar, though it was too dark for him to distinguish at +once anything but the general outline of poor Mary's figure. + +"Who is it? I don't understand; does Mrs Golding know of your being +here?" he asked, confusedly, with a vague idea that possibly the +mysterious visitor was some friend of the housekeeper. + +"No--oh, yes, I mean," replied Mary; "I got locked in by mistake, and-- +and--" + +There was an end for the time of all explanation; Mary burst into +unheroic tears; but not before an exclamation, to her ears fraught with +inexpressible meaning, had reached her from Mr Cheviott. + +"Miss Western, _you_ here!" was all he said, but it was enough. + +Though from the first of his entrance she had had no hope of escaping +unperceived, yet the hearing his recognition expressed in words seemed +to make things worse, and for the moment exaggerated almost beyond +endurance the consciousness of her ignominious position. She cried as +much from a sort of indignation at circumstances as from nervousness or +timidity. + +Mr Cheviott stood silent and motionless. Wild ideas were hurrying +through his brain to the exclusion for the time of all reasonable +conjecture. Had she been locked up here since the day before? Had she +come with a frantic idea of winning him over even now to approve of an +engagement between Arthur and her sister? If not, what _was_ she doing +here? And now that he had discovered her, what could he do or say that +would not add to her distress? + +Suddenly Mary looked up. Her tears somehow or other, had restored her +self-control; the very shame she felt at Mr Cheviott's hearing her sobs +reacted so as to give her confidence. + +"Why should I be ashamed? It is very natural I should cry after all the +worry I have had the last few days; and who has caused it all? Who has +broken Lily's heart and made us all miserable? Why should I care what +such a man as that thinks of me?" + +She left off crying, and got up from the chair on which she had sunk +down at the climax of her terror. She turned to Mr Cheviott, and said +calmly, though not without the remains of an uncontrollable quaver in +her voice: + +"If you will be so good as to open the door, I should very much like to +go." + +Mr Cheviott took up the cue with considerable relief. Any amount of +formality was better than tears. + +"Certainly," he said, quietly. Then, almost to his own astonishment, +the ludicrous side of the position suddenly presenting itself to him, a +spirit of mischief incited him to add, "you must allow, Miss Western, +_I_ am in no way to blame for this disagreeable adventure of yours. +And, if you will pardon my asking you, I must confess before I let you +out I should very much like to know how you got in." + +Mary flamed up instantly. + +"You have no right," she began,--"no right," she was going to say, "to +ask me anything I have not chosen to tell you," but she stopped short. +She was in Mr Cheviott's own house--how could she possibly refuse to +tell him how she had got there? "I beg your pardon," she said instead. +"I--I came here with Mrs Greville and some people who wanted to see the +house. _I_ did not want to come," she could not resist adding, with a +curious little flash of defiance, "but I could not help it." + +"Ah! indeed, I understand," said Mr Cheviott, turning to open the door, +but to which part of her speech his observation was addressed, Mary was +left in ignorance. + +Mr Cheviott stopped. + +"Which way do you wish to go out?" he asked. + +"Out to the garden, if you please," said Mary, eagerly. "That is the +way Mr Morpeth--the gentleman that was with me, I mean--will be coming +back. At least, I don't know," she went on, growing confused; "it +depends on where he finds the housekeeper. But anyway, I would rather +meet them all outside." + +"How on earth did `the gentleman that was with her' get out?" thought +Mr Cheviott--"or was it through some foolery of his that she got locked +in?" But he was determined to ask no more questions. + +He turned again to the wall, pressed the concealed spring without an +instant's hesitation, and the door flew open--flew open, and Mary, +without a glance behind her, flew out. + +CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. + +MARY TELLS STORIES. + + Florizel--"Fortune speed us!-- + Thus we set on, Camillo, to the sea-side." + + Camillo.--"The swifter speed the better." + + _Winter's Tale_. + +She flew out of the room, across the passage, down the little stair, and +out at the door, still standing slightly ajar, for a moment thinking of +nothing but the delight of being liberated at last. But it was dusk +outside among the trees, and her hesitation which way to go recalled her +to herself. She stopped short, and then turned back again. + +"I should have thanked him. He really must think me mad," she said to +herself, with a hot flush of shame, hardly knowing what she ought to do. + +But she was not long left in doubt. Mr Cheviott had followed her +down-stairs; he was standing at the door. + +"I am ashamed of not thanking you for letting me out," she said, +hastily. + +"I hardly see that I could have done less," he replied, dryly. "I +merely followed you now to direct you how to get round to the front, as +I believe you wish. You must keep that path to the left till it meets a +wider one, which will bring you out at the foot of a flight of stone +steps. These will take you up to the side terrace, and you can then +easily see your way to the front of the house. It is not really dark +yet; it is only the trees here which make it seem so, even in winter. +They are so thick." + +"Thank you," said Mary. "I am very much obliged to you, and I should +have said so before, but--I did not think I was so silly--the feeling of +being shut up in that room must have made me forget, it was so +horrible," and she gave a little shiver. + +Mr Cheviott stepped forward a little, but it was too dark for Mary to +see the concern in his eyes. + +"Would you like me to go with you till you meet your friends," he said, +very gently. + +"Oh, _no_, thank you," exclaimed Mary, with great vehemence. + +Mr Cheviott drew back. + +"I see," he said, with the slightly satirical tone Mary seemed to know +so well and hated so devoutly. "It is bad enough to be still in the +precincts of the ogre's castle, but the presence of the ogre himself is +quite too much for your nerves. Good-evening Miss Western." + +He raised his hat and re-entered the house before Mary had time to +reply. She stood still for a second. + +"Have I been rude to him again?" she said to herself, with a little +compunction. "However, it really does not matter. No two people could +dislike and despise each other more thoroughly than he and I do. I +could never, in any circumstances, have liked him; but still, for Lily's +sake, I could have been civil to him. But _now_! I only hope, oh, ever +so earnestly, that I shall never see him again--and what he thinks or +does not think of me really is of less than no consequence." + +Nevertheless, the thought of the afternoon's adventure made her cheeks +tingle hotly, and she hurried on as fast as she could in the uncertain +light. Mary Western seemed strangely unlike her usual philosophical +self. She even seemed to find a relief to her irritation in trampling +unnecessarily on the dry brushwood lying about here and there--the +"scrunch" worked off her disgust a little. Once, after jumping on the +top of a small raked-up heap, she stood still and laughed at herself. + +"What a baby I am! I need never laugh at poor Josey's `tantrums' +again," she said to herself. "But the truth is that man has thoroughly +mortified me, and I can't stand mortification. It is my thorn in the +flesh." + +Just then it seemed to her that she heard a faint sound in the path +behind her. It was too dark to see anything, but Mary's heart began to +beat faster, and jumping down from the heap she hurried on more quickly +than before. + +"I dare say it's only a rabbit," she thought; "but still all round here +has a sort of haunted feeling to me." + +She was glad when at last she came upon the flight of steps Mr Cheviott +had described. Running up them, the first object that met her sight was +Mr Morpeth hastening towards her. + +"Miss Western! did you get out of the window? It was frightfully rash," +he exclaimed. + +"I did _not_ get out of the window," replied Mary, shortly. "But that I +did not try to do so is no thanks to you, Mr Morpeth." + +"Why, what's the matter? I have done my very best, I can assure you," +he replied good-naturedly. "I was as quick as I could be, considering +all your directions--I don't think it can be more than half an hour +since I left you." + +"Half an hour," repeated Mary, indignantly. "You talk coolly of not +much more than half an hour, but just fancy what that seemed to me. +Shut up alone in that horrible room, and in the dark, too!" + +"I'm very sorry, but I couldn't help it." + +"It would not have taken _me_ half an hour, I know," pursued Mary, "to +have run round to the front of the house and find the housekeeper." + +"Yes," replied Mr Morpeth, "it certainly would, if, when you had run +round to the front of the house, you had _not_ found the housekeeper, +and had been told instead that she had had to hurry off to her master, +who had arrived unexpectedly--and if you had had to explain all to Mrs +Greville, and beg her not to rouse an alarm and so on--all this in +deference to the special commands of a certain young lady, whom I +mistakenly imagined I was trying to serve." + +Mary felt rather ashamed of herself. + +"Did you not find the housekeeper after all?" she inquired, meekly. + +"Yes, Mrs Greville managed it, but I would not let her go back through +the house to let you out, as I knew you would so dislike possibly +meeting that fellow--what's his name?--the man himself, I mean, whom you +hate so. So I got a key; look what a queer one," holding out a quaint +looking object, which Mary could, however, hardly distinguish, till she +took it in her own hands, "it opens the spring door from the outside, +you see." + +"But did _you_ see Mr Cheviott?" asked Mary. + +"Oh, no! he stopped at his bailiff's, or somewhere, and sent on his +groom to say he had come back about some business, and would stay all +night. Then off flies Mrs Silver, or whatever her name is--and nobody +thinks any more of us two unfortunate wretches." + +"Yes, I see. I understand it all now," said Mary, "and--" + +"You do, but I don't," interrupted Mr Morpeth. "I want to know how you +got out of the room. You could never have found the spring, after all, +and in the dark too." + +Mary did not answer. + +"_Did_ you?" persisted her companion. "Come now, Miss Western, I do +think I deserve a civil answer." + +"Well, then, I _didn't_," replied Mary. + +"Do you call that a civil answer?" inquired Mr Morpeth. + +"No," said Mary, half laughing, "I don't know that I do, but--" + +"But what?" + +"The truth is, I don't want to tell you how I got out of the room, and I +shall be exceedingly, infinitely obliged to you if you will say no more +about the affair." + +"A short time ago you said you would be exceedingly obliged, or +eternally grateful, or something of the kind if I would climb out of +that window and find the housekeeper." + +"And so I was--so I am," said Mary. + +"Looks like it," observed Mr Morpeth. + +Then they walked on a few steps in silence, Mary feeling still uneasy, +and somewhat conscience-smitten. + +"Mr Morpeth," she said at last, "what are you thinking?" + +"Would you really like to know?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, then, I was thinking that girls are all the same--very little +satisfaction to be got out of any of them." + +"That means me, I suppose," said Mary, slightly nettled. + +"Perhaps," replied Mr Morpeth, coolly. "You see, Miss Western, I did +think you such a particularly sensible girl." + +"I dislike being considered a sensible girl more than anything you could +say to me," interrupted Mary. + +"There you go!" said Mr Morpeth. "As I was saying, I thought you, till +to-day, a very sensible girl--not like my sisters, who are forever +flying out about something or other--and this afternoon you have really +been so very uncertain and queer-tempered--" + +"I know I have," interrupted Mary again, stopping short as she spoke. +"Mr Morpeth," she went on, "we shall be meeting the others again +directly. Will you be really so _very_ kind as to say nothing more +about this afternoon and all the trouble I have given you? I don't +think I am generally uncertain and queer-tempered, but I have really +been a good deal worried and troubled lately, and--and I think if I +could explain all you would say there was a little excuse for me." + +There was something very like the glistening of tears in the brown eyes; +it was almost too dark to see, but the voice suggested enough to soften +Mr Morpeth's heart--far more boyish and impressionable than he would +have liked to own to. A new idea struck him. + +"Perhaps, after all, she had some reason for disliking that fellow," he +thought--"perhaps she knows more of him than she allows, and he has +fallen in love with her--she is really awfully pretty--and is pestering +her to marry him though she hates him. And her people are so poor, Mrs +Greville says--" + +He turned to Mary with a change of tone. + +"Miss Western," he said, earnestly, "I promise you to say no more about +it, and I will do my best to prevent Mrs Greville or any one bothering +you--I really will, and I'm sorry I said you were bad-tempered." + +"Thank you, thank you very much," said Mary, cordially. + +And in a few minutes they rejoined Mrs Greville and the Misses Morpeth, +the former fortunately too much taken up with a more recent occurrence +to have any thought to spare for Mary's misadventures. + +"Fancy, my dear," she began, "what an escape you have had! Mr Cheviott +has just left us; he has been showing us the pictures himself. So +_very_ kind and attentive! You have only just missed him." + +"How fortunate for me!" said Mary, dryly. + +It was quite dark when they got back to Uxley, and the next morning Mr +Western came over as arranged, and took Mary home again the same +afternoon. + +It seemed to her as if she had been away weeks or months instead of +days. She was glad to be home again, and yet now, if she could have +deferred her return, she would. Lilias asked her no questions, but +still, either in Mary's imagination or in fact, there was a tacit +disappointment in her manner when she found Mary had nothing to tell. + +"_I_ was hopeful of some good result from what I had in my head," +thought Mary, "and Lily is so quick, though she had not the least idea +of my doing such a wild thing. I fancy she knew by instinct that I +_was_ hopeful." + +"You did not hear anything of those people--the Romary people, I mean?" +asked Lilias, at last, timidly, but with a sudden rush of colour into +her face, which made Mary feel inclined to cry. It was about two days +after she had come back. + +"Yes," she replied, "I did. I could not help hearing a good deal about +them; they seem the staple subject of conversation in the +neighbourhood." + +"About Captain Beverley--did you hear anything about him?" said Lilias, +hastily. "Mary, you are concealing something from me--he is going to be +married?" + +"No, indeed. I heard nothing of that sort, Lily, I assure you. If I +had, I would have told you about it at once; you know it is not my way +to shirk such things--I am rather over-hasty the other way, I fear," +said Mary, with a little sigh. "And, indeed, I think I should almost +have been _glad_ to hear it. It would have been a stab and done with." + +"Mary, you are awfully hard," said Lilias. Her voice was low and +quivering. + +"Hard!" repeated Mary, with amazement in her tone. _She_ hard to +_Lilias_! What fearful injustice--for a moment she felt too staggered +to speak--how _could_ Lilias misjudge her so? What a world it must be +where such near friends could make such mistakes! Had _she_ ever so +misjudged any one? And, by an association of ideas which she herself +could not have explained, her mind suddenly reverted to that +never-to-be-forgotten scene in the Romary library, and the look on Mr +Cheviott's face which she had determined _not_ to recognise as one of +pain. Was it possible that in the cruel, almost insulting things she +had said to him she had been influenced by some utter misjudgment of +_his_ motives?--was it possible that they were good and pure and +unselfish?--could his cousin be a bad man, from whom he was chivalrously +protecting Lilias's innocence and inexperience? No, that was +impossible. No man with Arthur's honest eyes _could_ be a bad man; but, +if not this, what other motive could Mr Cheviott have that was not a +mean and selfish one? Mary felt faint and giddy as these thoughts +crowded upon her; the mere far-off suggestion of the tremendous +injustice she might have done him, a suggestion born of the sharp pain +of Lilias's words to herself, seemed to confuse and stun her; all her +ideas lost their proportion; all the data upon which her late actions +and train of thought had been based suddenly failed her. And so swiftly +had her mind travelled away from what had first started these misgivings +that Lilias had spoken once or twice, in reply to her ejaculation, +before the sense of her words reached her brain. + +"Mary, Mary, listen to me. Don't look so white and miserable," Lilias +was beseeching her. "I didn't mean hard to _me_--I don't even exactly +mean hard to _him_--I mean hard about the whole, about the way it +affects me. You don't understand, and I don't want you to think me a +sentimental fool, but can't you understand a little? Nothing would be +so frightful to me as to have my faith in him destroyed, and, don't you +see, if it could be proved to me that he had been trifling with me, +deceiving me, in fact--that all the time he had been caring for some one +else more than for me--don't you see how frightful it would be for me? +It would be a stab indeed, but a stab that would kill the best part of +me--all my faith and trust, Mary, do you see?" + +"Yes," said Mary, sadly, "I see." + +And she saw more--she saw that, for the sake of Lilias's health and +peace of mind, it was time that something should be done. + +"She will grow morbid about it, and it will kill her youth and +happiness, if not herself," thought Mary. "I suppose it is on account +of the isolated life we have had that this has taken such a terribly +deep hold of her. For, after all, perhaps it is _possible_ that, +without being actually a bad, cruel man, Captain Beverley was not so +much in earnest as she thought. _I_ should call him a bad, cruel man, +but I suppose the world would not--the world of which we know so little, +as Mr Cheviott kindly reminded me! But what can I do for Lily?" + +"Mary," said Lilias, "what are you thinking about?" + +"I am thinking that something must be done for you," said Mary. +"Lilias, I think it would be better for you to go away from home for a +while." + +"Yes," said Lilias. "I am almost beginning to think so myself. But I +don't see how to manage it, unless I advertise as a governess. We seem +to have no friends." + +"By-the-bye," said Mary, "that reminds me. Those Miss Morpeths at Uxley +were talking about some Brookes who they think must be cousins of +mother. I meant to have asked her about them, but I forgot." + +"They're not likely to be much good to us, even if they are cousins of +ours," said Lilias, half bitterly. "None of mother's rich relations +have troubled themselves about her." + +And no more was said about the possible cousins just then. + +A few days passed. Mary got back into home ways, from which even so +short an absence as that of her visit to Uxley seemed to have separated +her, and all was much as it had been before--much as it had been before +that Sunday, now more than six months ago, when the little party of +strangers had disturbed the equanimity of the Hathercourt congregation-- +before the still more fatal afternoon when Arthur Beverley had come over +to see the Rector on business, and in his absence had stayed to tea with +his wife and daughters in the Rectory drawing-room--much the same, but +oh, how different! thought Lilias, wearily, as she tried her best to +look as cheerful as of old--to take the same interest in daily life and +its occurrences, which to a healthy mind is never wanting, however +monotonous the daily life may be. She succeeded to some extent; she +made herself believe that, at least, her trials were kept to herself, +and allowed to shadow no other's horizon. But she was mistaken. Her +mother began to hope her child was "getting over it;" her father, who +had but dimly suspected that anything was wrong, felt dimly relieved to +hear her laugh, and joke, and tease as usual again; Alexa and Josey had +their own private confabulations on the subject, deciding that either +their eldest sister was a heartless flirt, or that, "between themselves, +you know," everything was satisfactorily arranged, though for some +mysterious reason for a time to be kept secret, as any way it was +clearly to be seen "that Lily was not in low spirits." Only Mary, +ignorant as she was and professed herself to be of all such misfortunes +as are involved by falling in or out of love, was undeceived. + +"Lilias is trying her best, but she is breaking her heart all the same," +she said to herself. "If only I could get her away for a while among +new people and new scenes, there might be a chance for her." + +In the end it was kind Mrs Greville again who came to the rescue, and +that, to Mary's great relief, without any intervention of hers. Her one +piece of concealment from Lilias had cost her dear; she had no wish to +try again any independent action. What Mrs Greville did or did not +suspect, Mary could not tell, but had their kindly friend known all, she +could not have acted with greater consideration and tact. She was going +to town for a fortnight, she wrote, most unexpectedly, to consult a +famous doctor about some new symptoms in her husband's chronic +complaint. She was hopeful, yet fearful of the result. Should it be +unfavourable, she would find it hard to "keep up" before her husband, +away from home and all her friends. Would Mrs Western spare one of the +girls to go with them and not exactly limit the time of her absence, as +_in case_ the doctor thought well of Mr Greville they might go on to +Hastings, or somewhere for a month? Lilias, or Mary either, would be of +the greatest comfort to her, but if she might venture to say so--Mary +was too sensible to be offended--she would, _if anything_, prefer +Lilias. She was such a special favourite of Mr Greville, and it was +he, of course, who was to be the one most considered just now. + +"Well, girls?" said Mrs Western, inquiringly, for there was silence +when Mrs Greville's note was first read in the conclave of three. +Silence on Lilias's part of mingled relief and repugnance. On Mary's +part the silence of caution, of fear lest her intense anxiety that +Lilias should fall in with Mrs Greville's proposal should injure its +own cause by impulsive advocacy. "Well girls?" + +"I think Mary had better go," said Lilias. + +"But you see what Mrs Greville says about preferring you," suggested +Mrs Western, gently, with some faint, instinctive notion of what was +passing in her second daughter's heart. + +"Yes, but that's rubbish," said Lilias, the colour rising slightly in +her cheeks. "Mr Greville likes us both. It is only that I chatter +more than Mary, and, like all quiet, indolent men, he likes to be amused +with the least possible trouble to himself. Mary is not so amusing, +perhaps, because there is generally a large sprinkling of sense in her +remarks, and even when, on rare occasions, she mixes it up with nonsense +it is more fatiguing to separate the two than to take it all in +comfortably, as pure, unadulterated nonsense like mine." + +"You are certainly giving us a specimen of it just now," said Mary, +parenthetically. "But seriously, mamma," she went on, "I think we +should consider what Mrs Greville says about preferring Lilias. I am +speaking _partly_ selfishly, for though I should have liked it well +enough at another time, just now I should not like it at all. It would +unsettle me altogether--I have just got all the things I want to do +before the summer nicely arranged. Don't be vexed with me or think me +very selfish, Lilias," for her sister was regarding her with an +expression she did not quite understand. + +To her surprise, Lilias, by way of answer, threw her arms around her and +hugged her violently. + +"Think you selfish! Mother just listen to her," she exclaimed. "Fancy +me thinking Mary selfish." Then she hugged her again, and Mary _felt_ +there were tears in her eyes. "Selfish indeed! No, but I wouldn't say +as much for your truthfulness, you little humbug! Do you think I don't +see through all your unselfish story-telling," she added in a lower +voice. + +"Then don't disappoint me," whispered Mary, and when at last she +disengaged herself from Lilias's embrace, she said aloud, quietly +indeed, but firmly enough to carry her purpose, "it is not +story-telling, it is _true_. I should not, in the very least degree, +enjoy leaving home just now. And, what is more, I just _won't_ go, so, +dear friends, you see my mind's made up." + +And so it was settled, to be followed as was inevitable with these girls +when any scheme of the kind was in prospect, by a solemn and momentous +discussion as to ways and means--in other words, as to dresses and +bonnets and ribbons! But Lilias brightened up wonderfully under the +impetus of this discussion, and seemed, for the time, so like her old +self that Mary began to take heart about her, and to hope everything +from the change in prospect. + +CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. + +WHAT HAPPENED IN THE PRIMROSE LANE. + + "Wee mortal wights whose lives and fortunes bee + To common accidents still open layd, + Are bownd with commun bond of frailtee + To succour wretched wights..." + + _Faery Queen_. + +It was within a few days of Lilian's going. The bustle of preparation-- +of "doing up" the two white muslin evening dresses, the joint property +of herself and Mary, but which Mary insisted on resigning to her sister; +of "turning" the black silk skirt which had already done good service; +and--most important of all--the cutting out and making the one new dress +which the family finances had been able to afford--all was over. +Everything was ready, and only not packed because it was a pity to crush +the garments prematurely. Lilias's temporary excitement, now that there +was nothing more to do, was already on the wane. She was gentleness and +sweetness itself, but with a look in her eyes that Mary did not like to +see, and a clingingness in her manner which made both mother and sister +wish that the day for her going were actually come and the parting, such +as it was, fairly over. + +It was a lovely afternoon--spring was really coming, or thinking of it +anyway. + +"The birds are talking about their new houses, aren't they, Mary?" said +little Francie, as she trotted along beside her sister. They had walked +part of the way to Withenden with Lilias and Josey, who were bent on an +expedition to the one village shop in quest of some wool for their +father's next winter socks, the knitting of which was to be Lilias's +"fancy work" while away from home. Mary had been glad when the idea +struck Lilias, as her practical belief in the efficacy of a good long +walk for low spirits of every kind was great. + +"I wish I could go with you," she had said to Lily, "but some one must +take Francie out, and Alexa and Josey always get into scrapes unless one +of us is with them. You had better take Josey, she is always ready for +a long walk, and Alexa may potter about the garden with mother, just +what she likes." + +"Very well," said Lilias, "but you and Francie might come part of the +way with us. Josey is considerably more agreeable out of doors than in +the house, but two hours and a half of her, unalloyed, is about as much +as I can stand. I am tired, Mary, horribly tired--`not in my feet,' as +Francie says, but in my own self; and oh, I'm so sorry to have been such +a plague to you all this time--it makes me feel as if I _couldn't_ go +away." + +Her voice was dangerously tremulous, and of all things Mary dreaded a +break-down, now at the last. + +"Now, Lilias," she said, in what Lilias sometimes called her +"make-up-your-mind-to-it" tone, "you are not to begin talking rubbish. +Do you hear, child? If you want to please me, there's just one thing to +do--go away with Mrs Greville and try to enjoy yourself. This will be +the most unselfish thing you can do; and even if you feel at first as if +you couldn't enjoy yourself, it will come--you'll see if it doesn't. +Now let us set off at once, or you and Josey will not be back by +tea-time." + +They skirted the Balner woods in going, but coming home, Mary, not being +pressed for time, yielded to Francie's entreaty that they might choose +the primrose lane, thereby saving herself a good deal of future +discussion, as nothing but "ocular demonstration" would convince the +child that there might not be a few primroses out, "just two or three, +perhaps, as it was such a werry fine day." + +"But it is six weeks from now, at least, before they ever come out, +Francie, dear," said Mary, for the twentieth time; "they are not like +little boys and girls, you see, who are there in the house all ready to +come out the minute the sun shines and the fine weather comes. The +primroses have all their growing to do first, and they need the sun and +the spring rain to help them to grow, every year." + +"But is them never the same primroses?" said Francie, in some +perplexity. "Is them new every year--never the same?" + +"No," said Mary, "they are never the same." + +But as she said the words their sound struck her. "Never the same," +nay, indeed, say rather, "ever the same," she thought. "`Pale +primroses,' as pretty Perdita called them three hundred years ago! They +must have looked up in our great-great-_great_-grandmothers' faces just +as they do in ours now--just as they will, centuries hence, smile at the +Francies that will be looking for them then. What a strange world it +is! Ever the same and never the same, over and over again." + +"What are you thinking about, Mary? Tell me," said Francie. + +"Nothing you would understand, dear," Mary was saying, when the child +interrupted her. + +"Mary," she said, "I hear such a funny noise, don't you? It's like +something going _very_ fast--oh! Mary, couldn't it be one of the wild +bulls running after us?" + +Francie grew white with fear. Mary, hastily assuring her it could not +be a wild bull, stood still to listen. Yes, Francie was right--there +certainly was a sound to be heard of something rapidly nearing them, and +the sound somehow made Mary's heart beat faster. + +"It can only be a horse," she said; "I dare say its nothing wrong." + +But her face and actions belied her words. There was a gate close by +the spot where they stood. Mary unlatched it, and drew Francie within +its shelter. Not a minute too soon--the rushing, tearing sound grew +nearer and nearer, but a turn in the lane hid the cause of it till close +upon them. + +Then--"Oh! Mary," cried Francie, "it's a horse that's runned away--and +look, Mary, there's a lady on it. Oh! I'm sure she will be tumbled +off," and Francie burst out sobbing with mingled fear, pity, and +excitement. + +It was too true--though it all seemed to Mary to pass in an +instantaneous flash--the horse dashed past the gate--how glad Mary +afterwards felt that she had placed herself and her little sister too +far out of sight for their presence to have been the cause of what +happened--flew down the lane till an open gate and a cart just coming +out of a field seemed to bring its terror to a climax. It swerved +suddenly, how or why exactly no one could tell, and the slight, swaying +figure in the saddle was seen to fall--heavily, lifelessly to the +ground--but, thank Heaven, thought Mary, clear of the stirrup. There +was not added to the spectacle, terrible enough as it was, the +unspeakable horror of a prostrate figure dragged along the ground--of a +fair face battered beyond recognition upon the stones. + +No one seemed to be at hand to give any assistance--the horse continued +for a while his headlong course down the lane; then, after the manner of +its kind, having done all the mischief it could, stopped short, and in a +few minutes was quietly nibbling the grass as if nothing had happened. + +But Mary gave little attention to the horse, her whole thoughts flew to +the motionless figure lying there in a dark heap, where it had been +thrown--so still, so dreadfully still--that was all that Mary could +distinguish, as, overcoming the first natural but selfish instinct which +would have made her shrink away from a sight possibly of horror, +certainly of sadness, she ran down the lane, closely followed by little +Francie, who would not be left behind. + +"Is the poor lady killed, Mary, does you think?" she said, when her +sister had stooped to examine the face half hidden by the long habit +skirt which had dropped over it in the fall. + +"Run back, Francie. Stay over there by the gate, and be sure to tell me +if you see any one coming. No, I don't think she's killed, but she's +very badly hurt, I fear," said Mary, "and, oh, Francie, I know who she +is. She's that pretty lady that came to church that Sunday--do you +remember? Mr Cheviott's sister," she murmured to herself. "How +strange!" + +Francie had already run off to her post of observation. Mary, afraid +though she was of further complicating the unknown injury by anything +she might ignorantly do to help poor Alys, yet could not bear to see the +fair head lying on the careless ground. Slowly and cautiously she +raised it on to her own knee, supporting the girl's shoulder with one +arm, while with the other she tenderly wiped away the dust and grass +stains disfiguring the pallid cheek. The girl's eyes were closed, to +all appearances she was still perfectly unconscious, but in the moving, +carefully though it was done, a slight spasm of pain contracted her +features for a moment. Mary shivered at the sight. + +"It may be her spine that is injured," she thought to herself, "her arms +are not broken, and I don't think her head is hurt. Oh dear, oh dear, +if only some one would come! If I had some water, or some _eau de +cologne_, or anything--I don't think I shall ever again laugh at Alexa +for carrying about a scent-bottle in her pocket. Francie," she called, +softly. Francie was beside her in a moment. + +"Nobody's coming," she whispered. "Oh, Mary, couldn't I run home and +fetch somebody? The horse wouldn't run after me, would it?" with a +little shudder of fright. + +"You good little girl," said Mary, approvingly. "No, dear, I don't +think you could run home. It is too far for you to go alone. But let +me see--there must be some cottage or farm-house close to--Hilyar's +cottages are quite half a mile off--" + +"Captain Bebberly lived near here, 'afore he wented away," suggested +Francie. "I came this way to his house once." + +"Of course," exclaimed Mary, in a tone of relief, "the back way to the +Edge Farm cannot be a quarter of a mile off. Look, Francie, dear, run +back to the lane, and run on about as far as you can see from this gate. +Then you'll see another gate on your left--the other side from this-- +that gate will take you into a field which you must cross, and go +through a stile, and _then_ you'll see Captain Beverley's,"--even now +she seemed to shrink a little from pronouncing the name--"Captain +Beverley's house. Go in and tell the first person you meet to come as +quick as he can, and bring some water. Tell him it is Miss Cheviott +that is hurt, and tell him where we are. Quick, darling, as quick as +ever you can." + +Francie lingered for one instant. + +"There won't be none dogs, will there, Mary?" she said, her voice +trembling a little. + +"I think not," said Mary. "And if there are, Francie, you must ask God +not to let them hurt you. That's what being brave means, dear." + +She said it, feeling that all her own nerve and bravery were being +called for. If only she could have run across the fields with Francie-- +but to sit here, able to do nothing, watching the terrible stillness of +the girl's face-- + +It seemed hours before there came any change. At last a faint, gasping +sigh reached Mary's ears--a slight, very slight quiver ran through the +form she held so tenderly, and Alys Cheviott opened her eyes--opened +them, alas! but to close them again with a quick consciousness of pain. + +"My back," she whispered--"oh, my back! what have I done to it? Oh!" + +Then she lay quiet for a minute or two, Mary not daring to move or +speak--scarcely to breathe, till again Miss Cheviott opened her eyes. + +"Where am I?" she said. "What has happened? Who is holding me? +Laurence, is it you? I cannot move; it hurts me so. Where is Gypsy?" + +"Gypsy is eating grass very comfortably in the lane," said Mary, trying +to speak in a cheerful, matter-of-fact tone. "It is I that am holding +you, Miss Cheviott--I, Mary Western. Gypsy was very naughty; she threw +you off, and I was just a little way behind and saw you." + +"Gypsy threw me off," repeated Alys, slowly. "Oh, yes, I remember; she +ran away." A little shudder ran through her. "It is my own fault. +Laurence said she was too fresh for me to-day. And you are Miss +Western--how strange!" + +"_Mary_ Western," the girl corrected. + +"Yes, I know; I know your voice. How strange it should be you! I am +very thankful. How long might I not have lain here without any one +knowing? But my back--oh! Mary, what can I have done to my back?" + +"I hope it is only strained, or bruised, perhaps," said Mary, very +gently, touched by Miss Cheviott's unconscious use of her first name. +"I have sent to the farm--Edge Farm--your cousin's house, you know, for +help; we are close to it." + +"Oh, yes, I know. I wanted to see it, and I thought a long ride would +take it out of Gypsy. Poor Arthur, how sorry he will be if I am badly +hurt!" + +Something in her words struck Mary. Could it be true, then, that +Captain Beverley was engaged to this girl? But what a time for such +speculations! Mary checked herself, with a feeling almost of horror. + +"What can have become of Thwaites? My groom, I mean," said Alys, +suddenly. "He was close behind me when Gypsy started off." + +"He must have taken a wrong turn," said Mary. "Most likely he dared not +follow too close, and must have lost sight of you. I wish some one +would come. Do you think I could hold you more easily anyhow?" + +"Oh, no; no, thank you, I mean," said Alys, nervously. "Don't move; +that's the only thing you can do for me. Don't move the very least, +_please_. Miss Western." + +"I won't, dear, not the very least," said Mary, soothingly. "And she is +seven miles from home," she added to herself, in consternation. + +Alys's eyes closed again, and she grew so white that Mary feared she was +going to faint. + +"What _shall_ I do?" she thought, almost in despair, when, to her +indescribable relief, a sound of approaching footsteps made itself +heard. She dared not even turn her head to see whose they were, but +soon the new-comers stood before her. They were two men from the farm, +one, the bailiff, the choice of whom had led to Arthur's first +introduction at the Rectory, a kindly middle-aged man, who looked down +on the sad little group before him with fatherly concern. + +"Shall I try to lift the young lady, do you think, miss?" he whispered +to Mary, but Alys caught the words. + +"No, no," she moaned, "don't move me. Whatever you do, don't move me." + +It seemed to Mary that her head was beginning to wander. She glanced up +at the bailiff in perplexity. + +"She must be moved, miss," he replied, with decision, in answer to her +unspoken question, "and the longer we wait the fainter-like she'll get. +Not to speak of catching rheumatics from the damp, which would be making +a bad job a worser, for sure." + +Mary bent her face over Alys's. + +"Dear Miss Cheviott--Alys," she whispered, "I fear we _must_ move you." + +Alys shivered, but resisted no longer. + +"Hold my hand, then--all the way," she murmured, without opening her +eyes. + +"I can carry her quite as easy as on a shutter, and it's less moving in +the end. My missus'll have the down-stairs bed all ready," said the +bailiff, encouragingly. "But first, miss, we brought a drop of brandy, +as the Captain left, and some water. Will you please try for to get her +to swallow a spoonful before we move her, poor lamb?" + +With some difficulty Mary succeeded. Then came the lifting her, a +terrible business, notwithstanding the infinite tenderness of the +stalwart bailiff. And all along the lane, many times Mary would have +thought her unconscious of all that was passing, but for the convulsive +pressure of the little hand that clung to hers so helplessly. + +Half way up the lane the sad little _cortege_ was reinforced by Francie, +still out of breath, and with great pity shining out of her big blue +eyes, and further on still by. Thwaites, leading his own horse and +naughty Gypsy, now perfectly subdued and serene. + +"He must go for a doctor," said Mary, at once, when she caught sight of +him. "Tell him so," she added, turning to the young farm servant who +had accompanied the bailiff. "Let me see--yes, Mr Brandreth at +Withenden is the nearest." + +"That's him as we always have at the Hall," said Thwaites, catching the +words; and apparently thankful to be told what to do, he gave over Gypsy +to the young man's charge, and mounting his own horse, was off in a +moment. + +The "down-stairs bed" was ready, and clean and comfortable enough to +make Mary rejoice that the accident had not happened in a still more +isolated part of the country. + +"You are very brave," she whispered, when at last the agony of the +movement was over, and Alys, with death-white cheeks and quivering lips, +was laid in the easiest position their ignorance could achieve. + +A faint smile flickered over the poor girl's face. + +"Am I?" she whispered. "I am so glad. Please tell Laurence--and--Mary, +kiss me, please. Somehow I have always wanted to love you both--her +too--she is so pretty," she murmured, softly. "And fancy my being in +Arthur's house like this." + +Then for a while she lay silent, and Mary's thoughts turned to her own +position. What should she do? She was most anxious to get home as soon +as possible; it was already past Francie's tea-time, and before long her +mother would be getting alarmed. Besides, how more than disagreeable it +would be for her to meet Mr Cheviott again! How could she tell how he +might look upon her presence beside his sister, and what she had done to +help poor Alys? + +She got up from her seat by the bed-side, and with soft steps moved +towards the door. But, faint as it was, the sound roused Alys. + +"Where are you going, Miss Western?" she said.--"Oh, you are not going +away from me are you? You will not leave me alone here--oh, do at least +wait till the doctor comes, and hear what he says." + +Mary felt that it would be barbarous to refuse. + +"No," she replied, "I won't go away if you would like me to stay; I will +only just send a note to my mother to tell her where I am, otherwise she +will wonder what has become of us. I will get Mrs Wills to send a man +with my little sister and the note to mamma." + +"Oh, yes, your little sister--I remember seeing her standing by," said +Alys, dreamily; "I am so sorry to trouble you so. How good you are! +Please come and sit beside me. Couldn't Mrs Wills get you some tea?" + +"Would _you_ like some?" said Mary, eagerly catching at anything to +break the weary suspense of waiting for the doctor's arrival. + +"I am very thirsty--yes, I think I should," said Alys, faintly; so Mary +hurried off to write her note, and bespeak some tea, though when ready, +it was hard work to get Alys to swallow it. She seemed to shrink from +the slightest movement with increasing and indescribable terror. + +"It will be impossible to move her to Romary," thought Mary with dismay. +"What will be done? I wonder if the groom will have the sense to fetch +Mr Cheviott as well as the doctor? I almost wish he _would_ come now-- +it seems such a responsibility. And if only the doctor would come!" + +After all, Dr Brandreth came much sooner than could reasonably have +been expected, long as the hour and a half or so of waiting seemed to +Mary, for Thwaites met him on the way to Withenden. Mary had just gone, +at the doctor's request, to borrow a pair of scissors from Mrs Wills, +to cut off poor Alys's riding habit, so as to save her all possible +suffering, when, passing the open front door on her return, the sound of +wheels suddenly stopping at the gate made her pause. Yes, it was Mr +Cheviott. Mary hesitated. What should she do? She had no time to +decide. Mr Cheviott was at the door before she had thoroughly taken in +his arrival. + +Whether he was prepared to find her there or not, she could not tell. +His face certainly expressed no surprise, but then, again, it expressed +nothing, and her first quick instinct of pity and concern for the +terrible anxiety he must be enduring died suddenly away. Never had she +seen his face harder or colder--"more insolently arrogant," she said to +herself, "as if he were indignant that accidents should happen to any +one belonging to _him_ as well as to other poor human beings." + +Her indignation calmed her trepidation, and she stood her ground coolly. +Mr Cheviott raised his hat. Mary bowed. + +"May I ask--" he began. "I suppose," he went on, "it is here Miss +Cheviott is?" + +"Yes," said Mary, but not moving aside so as to let him pass. "She is +here. The doctor is with her?" + +"But I can go in?" he exclaimed, with unmistakable eagerness and anxiety +in his tone now. "She is surely not very seriously injured--not--not--" + +His lips grew white, and then instantly a dark red flush rose to his +brow, as if ashamed of any signs of agitation. Mary was somewhat +mollified. + +"I think," she said, gently, "I had better tell her first that you have +come, to prevent her being startled. She is quite conscious," she +added, "and I _hope_ it is nothing very serious, but the doctor has not +said anything yet. There are no bones broken--it is her back she +complains of." + +"Her back," repeated Mr Cheviott, the red flush fading away to a sallow +whiteness--"her back! Good God, I trust not!" + +"It may be only severely bruised," said Mary, finding herself, despite +her determination, already assuming the _role_ of comforter. "I will +tell her you are here if you will wait a moment." And when, in a minute +or two, Mr Cheviott was summoned to his sister, to his astonishment it +was to find her supported in Mary's arms, while Dr Brandreth was +skilfully disentangling the wisps of muddy cloth from the poor girl's +form. + +"That will do--beautifully," he was saying. "Now, Miss Mary, lift her +the least atom on the right side--_that_ won't hurt you, my dear. +Good-day, Mr Cheviott," for the first time noticing his presence. "A +nice piece of work this, isn't it? Still not so bad as it might have +been, by a long way." + +"Laurence," said Alys, faintly, "it was all my own fault. You said +Gypsy was too fresh." + +"Hush, my darling. Never say any more about that part of it," said Mr +Cheviott, in tones that Mary could scarcely have believed were his. + +"Kiss me, and say you forgive me, then, and I won't," entreated Alys. + +He could not refuse, even though in stooping to kiss her he could not +avoid his head's brushing the sleeve of Mary's dress. But motionless as +she sat, he was conscious, through the thick grey tweed, of a sort of +thrill of shrinking--an instinctive withdrawal from his slightest touch. + +"How that girl must hate me," he could not help thinking, even then. + +"She has been _so_ good and kind," whispered Alys. "Laurence, you will +thank her, won't you?" + +CHAPTER NINETEEN. + +COALS OF FIRE. + + Benedick.--"Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains." + + Beatrice.--"I took no more pains for those thanks than you took pains + to thank me." + + _Much Ado about Nothing_. + +An hour or so later on this eventful afternoon--or evening, rather, it +was fast growing dark--a cloaked and hooded figure was to be seen +hastening along the lane which was the shortest way from Hathercourt +Rectory to the Edge Farm. The figure had good need to be cloaked and +hooded, in the waterproof sense of the term, and goloshed too, for the +beautiful spring day had ended in, superficially speaking, very +unbeautiful rain. It came pouring down--the foot-path was a mass of mud +already, and before long threatened to be indistinguishable from the +road. Lilias--for it was she--had begun by picking her steps, but soon +gave this up in despair. It was all she could do to get on at all, +laden as she was with a rather cumbersome parcel under her cloak. But +her step nevertheless was light and buoyant, and her face and eyes, had +there been any one there to see them, or any light to see them by, would +have told of eagerness and some excitement, instead of fatigue and +depression, as, taking into consideration her seven miles' walk to +Withenden and back, and her present uncomfortable surroundings, might +not unreasonably have been expected. + +"It is horrible of me--I don't understand myself," she said, suddenly, +aloud. Then she hurried on faster than before, pursuing, nevertheless, +the same train of thought. "Why should I feel more buoyant and hopeful +than I have done for long, just when such a terrible thing--or what may +prove such a terrible thing--has happened to that poor girl? I _know_ I +am sorry for her--and even if I were not, I should be sorry to think how +it will grieve Arthur; but yet--ah, yes, it is just the feeling of +having, as it were, something to do with him again--of perhaps hearing +him spoken of and of seeing the house where he was so lately. His own +house?" + +She had never been inside the farm-house. Often they had passed it in +their walks with Arthur, and more than once he had tried to persuade the +Rectory family to organise some sort of picnic party to his bachelor +quarters; but to this Mrs Western had so decidedly objected that the +project had never been fulfilled. So Lilias was rather in the dark, +mentally as well as physically, as to the exact approach to the front +door, if front door there was to a house whose three entrances were all +much on a par, and in the end she hit upon the one which Mrs Wills +decidedly considered the back door. It had the advantage, however, in +the present state of the weather, of being near the kitchen, so her rap +was answered without delay. + +"My sister is still here, is she not? Miss Western--Miss Mary Western, +I mean," she explained, in reply to Mrs Wills's mute look of bewildered +inquiry. + +"Oh, yes, miss, to be sure she is, and what we should have done without +her I don't know, and what we shall do now if she--" + +She was interrupted. + +"Shut that door, if you please, Mrs Wills," a man's voice called out, +"it sets all the other doors in the house rattling," and from an inner +room Mr Cheviott came out to enforce his directions. He had almost +shut the door in Lilias's face before he perceived her. Then--"I beg +your pardon," he said instinctively, but, dim as the light was, Lilias +felt certain he had recognised her. + +"He will think he is going to have the whole Western family down upon +him," she thought, with a smile. Then she came forward a little. + +"I am Miss Western," she said, calmly, and something in the voice, a +certain cheery yet half-defiant ring, reminded her hearer of Mary--he +had never come into personal contact with Lilias before. "I have come +for my sister--it was too stormy for my mother to come out, but she was +getting uneasy, and my little sister could not quite explain. I hope +Miss Cheviott is not seriously hurt?" + +"Thank you," he replied, "we can hardly tell. Will you be so good as to +come in, and I will tell your sister you are here." + +Lilias came in, and depositing her parcel--bundle, rather--on the table, +stood, nothing loth, beside the welcome blaze of the kitchen fire. + +"How queer it is," she thought, "Mary seems quite established here! In +the very heart of the enemy's camp, according to _her_ opinion, at +least, for she has always persisted that Mr Cheviott's interference was +to be blamed for it all. I don't think it was. Arthur would not be so +fond of him if he were that sort of man, and besides," with an +unconscious slight elevation of her pretty head, "_he_ is not the sort +of man to be interfered with." + +Then she glanced round the kitchen--a pleasant, old-fashioned farm-house +kitchen, not unpicturesque as seen in the flickering firelight, +alternately lighting up and hiding the dark rafters and the +quaintly-carved oak settle, where for so many years old John Birley had +sat and smoked his pipe, and mused on the fallen fortunes of his house. +The last of the Hathercourt Beverleys, Mawde's great-great-grandson, to +have come down to the bent, blue-stockinged old farmer, whose figure, +hobbling into church, Lilias had been familiar with ever since she could +remember. + +"Fancy Mawde Beverley, beautiful and refined as she almost certainly +was--the Maynes of Southcote are said to have been very +beautiful--_fancy_ her looking forward along the centuries to that old +rough man as one of her great-grandchildren!" thought Lilias. "If she +could have looked forward to _Arthur_--what a difference! Life is a +very queer thing--queer and sad too, I suppose. Still I am glad to be +alive, and to take my chance of the goods and bads." + +Unconsciously to herself, hope was re-asserting itself in Lilias's +heart; she could not have spoken or felt thus a few days previously. + +Her soliloquy was soon interrupted. + +"Lily," exclaimed a voice behind her, and turning round Lilias saw Mary +entering the kitchen. "I could hardly believe Mr Cheviott when he said +you were here," Mary went on. "And all alone, too! Lily, I do believe +he thinks us all half mad!" She gave a little laugh, but checked it +suddenly. + +Lilias looked at her in surprise. + +"Why should he?" she said, quickly. "I don't see anything particularly +mad in my coming down to look after you. I am your elder sister. +Mother could not come. I don't think you are quite fair on that man, +Mary." + +"Long may you think so," said Mary, sarcastically. + +Lilias's face flushed. + +"Mary," she said, nervously, "you don't mean that--that there is +anything indelicate in my coming here, to this house? It did not strike +me so, or--" + +"Indelicate!--no, of course not. It is very, very good of you to have +come," said Mary, warmly; "only you see, I was so astonished." + +"But what were you intending?--what were you going to do?" said Lilias. +"You can't stay here all night without clothes, and you sent no message. +We didn't know what to think." + +"No," said Mary, "I was just beginning to wonder what I _should_ do. At +first, you see, I was so taken up about that poor girl I could think of +nothing else." + +"But she is not badly hurt," interrupted Lilias; "you were laughing a +minute ago; you don't seem in bad spirits." + +"I don't know," said Mary, her voice saddening. "I think I was laughing +out of a sort of nervousness. I really do not know whether she is much +hurt or not, and the doctor either would not or could not say. I +suppose to-morrow will show. But, Lilias, what am I to do? She cannot +bear the idea of my leaving her." + +"Has she no maid with her?" asked Lilias. + +"Yes, but she is a mere girl who has not been long with her. And the +old housekeeper, Mrs Golding," continued Mary, with a curious tone in +her voice, "has sprained her ankle or something and cannot leave Romary. +It would seem almost barbarous for me to leave her--Alys--Miss +Cheviott, I mean--to-night, any way." + +"Don't then; there is no objection to your staying under the +circumstances. Why do you look so unhappy about it?" said Lilias. "Is +it all your dislike to her brother?" + +"No," said Mary with some hesitation, "I don't think that would affect +me one way or the other, and _as_ her brother, he is some degrees less +odious than I could have expected. No, my feeling is, _under the +circumstances_, Lilias, an intense dislike to putting them--him, I +should say, in a position of obligation to us. It is like forcing him +to be civil to us." + +"And why shouldn't he be?" said Lilias, "it is much better than forcing +him to be uncivil to us, anyway." + +"I don't know that it is," said Mary, smiling faintly. "I can't +altogether explain my feeling, but it is most uncomfortable altogether. +He hates my staying as much as I do, and yet I can't do a cruel thing. +Why, I stayed up three nights in Bevan's cottage when Jessie broke her +leg, without a second thought?" + +"Of course you did," said Lilias, "and that's the right way to put it. +Forget all about her being Mr Cheviott's sister, and just think of +doing a kind thing. Mary, it's very queer, but somehow it seems as if +my troubles had, in a sense, done you more harm than me. Your sympathy +for me has made you morbid." + +"Perhaps so," replied Mary. "And I dare say you are right. But all the +same," she added, "I am not fond of `coals of fire;' there always seems +to me something mean in heaping them on." + +"But suppose you have no choice between that and letting your enemy +hunger?" asked Lilias. "But `enemy' and `coals of fire'--what absurdly +strong expressions--only you _will_ have it poor Mr Cheviott is the +cause of it all." + +"Poor Mr Cheviott!" repeated Mary. + +"I must be going," said Lilias. "George is coming to meet me; he was to +start just half an hour after me, so I cannot miss him, and I don't want +your friend to offer to see me home, so good-night, dear. You'll find +all you want in that bundle, and a good deal you won't want, for mother +would put in all manner of things she thought might be useful for Miss +Cheviott--from cotton-wool to a hop pillow, and no doubt you have got +all you want from Romary." + +"No," said Mary, "that maid has no sense, and forgot nearly everything +she should have remembered. I am very glad of your _olla podrida_, +Lily. Good-night, and thank you." + +They kissed each other, and Lilias went out again into the rain and the +darkness. Mary came back again into the kitchen, wishing, "dreadfully," +as the children say, that she could have gone with her sister. She +stood by the fire feeling dull and lonely, and, to tell the truth, +though the Rectory was only a mile away, rather homesick! She was +tired, too, which state of things has more to do with our moods of +depression than we, in youth anyway, take into sufficient account. + +"I must go back to Miss Cheviott," she said to herself; "how I do hope +the doctor will think her better to-morrow. I may as well see what Lily +has brought. How kind poor mother is!" + +She was turning to examine the bundle when the half-closed door was +pushed open and Mr Cheviott came in. + +"My sister seems to be falling asleep," he said. "Perhaps it will be as +well if we leave her for a little. I promised her you would go back in +half an hour, and in the mean time--why, has your sister gone, and +alone?" + +"My brother was to meet her, thank you," said Mary. "And you? Can +you--are you really going to stay with Alys all night?" + +"Yes," replied Mary. "My sister is going to explain to my mother." + +"It is exceedingly kind of you," said Mr Cheviott; "but really--I feel +ashamed." + +"You need not feel so," said Mary, quietly. "I have--well not _often_, +perhaps, but certainly several times--done far more for the poor people +about here, and would do so again at any moment for _any_ one in +trouble." + +Mr Cheviott was silent. Then his glance happening to fall on a basket +standing unopened on a side table, he started and crossed the room to +where it stood. + +"I am forgetting," he said; and then, taking a small knife out of his +pocket, he proceeded to cut the strings which fastened it, and to lift +out its contents. It had all been a pious fiction of Alys's about +fancying she would go to sleep better if left alone. She had been +making herself unhappy about Mary's having had nothing to eat all the +evening, and a basket of provisions having been sent from Romary by Mrs +Golding, she had begged her brother to do the honours of the farm-house +by unpacking them for Miss Western's benefit. She was full, too, of a +secret wish that somehow or other a better understanding might be +brought about between her brother and this girl, to whom from the first +she had felt so strongly attracted. + +"They are both so good," said Alys to herself, as she lay, far from +sleeping, alas! poor girl, on Mrs Wills's best bed. "Laurence, of +course, I do believe to be the noblest man in the world, except for his +prejudices, and Mary, I can _feel_, is as good as gold. Why should they +dislike each other so? For, though she tries to hide it from me, I can +see that she dislikes him quite as much as he does her. And I am almost +sure it was she whom I saw the other day coming down our avenue and +crying. What can it all be? There is something I don't know about-- +that I'm sure of." + +Then her thoughts took another flight. + +"I wish Laurence would marry," she said to herself. "I wish he would +marry just such a girl as Mary Western. How nice it would be for me! +Or--supposing I don't get better from this accident--supposing I get +worse and die--how dreadfully lonely Laurence will be! Poor Laurence--" +and Alys's eyes filled with tears at the very thought. + +In the mean time Mr Cheviott was unpacking the basket, and handily +enough, as Mary, watching him with some curiosity, was forced to allow. +All sorts of good things made their appearance--a cold ham, two +chickens, a packet of tea, fine bread, wine, etc, etc. Mr Cheviott +looked about him in perplexity. + +"Are there no dishes of any kind to be had, I wonder?" he said, at last. +"I don't like to disturb Mrs Wills--she is giving her husband his +supper in the back kitchen, I see. Poor people, we have put them about +quite enough already." + +Mary could no longer stand aloof. She had felt half inclined to be +nettled by Mr Cheviott's calm manner of ignoring what she could not but +own to herself had been, in its inference at least, a rude speech. + +"He still feels he _is_ under an obligation to me," she had said to +herself, hotly, "and therefore he won't resent anything I say. I don't +agree with Lilias. I would much prefer his being uncivil, to civility +of that patronising `I couldn't-do-otherwise' kind." But the quiet +good-nature with which he now turned to her for assistance appealed to +something in Mary which could not but respond; the mixture of comicality +too in the whole position was not without its attraction for her. + +"You are not accustomed to kitchen arrangements," she said, smiling a +little; "there are the dishes--lots of real willow pattern, `all in a +row'--just above your head. Stay, don't you see? I can reach them." + +She stepped forward, put her foot lightly on a three-legged stool +standing just under the shelf of dishes. But three-legged stools are +cantankerous articles--they require to be treated with a certain +consideration mysterious to the uninitiated. Mary, perhaps for +the first time in her life, suffering from some amount of +self-consciousness, gave no thought to the three-leggedness of the +stool, and, light as was her spring upon it, it proved too much for its +equilibrium; the stool tilted forward, and Mary would have fallen +ignominiously--perhaps worse than ignominiously, for the kitchen floor +was tiled with hard bricks--to the ground, had not Mr Cheviott darted +forward just in time to catch her. Mary was exceedingly, ridiculously +annoyed--she flushed scarlet, but before she had time to do more than +spring back from Mr Cheviott's supporting arms, he said with a smile, +in which, notwithstanding her mortification, Mary _could_ not detect any +approach to a sneer: + +"_You_ are not accustomed to three-legged stools, it is very evident, +Miss Western. Thank you all the same for your kind intentions, however. +I think _I_ can reach the dishes--" + +He stretched upwards and got down two or three. Mary, to hide her +discomfort, was glad to help in the "dishing up" that ensued, till +between them a very appetising sort of picnic supper was spread out on +the table, and Mary, to tell the truth, being really hungry, did not +refuse her host's invitation to fall to. He was hungry too, +notwithstanding his anxiety, and for a few minutes the repast went on in +silence. Then the ludicrousness of the scene struck Mary anew, more +forcibly than ever. She could not restrain a smile, and Mr Cheviott, +looking up at the moment, caught sight of it. He smiled too. + +"What is it that amuses you so, Miss Western?" he asked. + +"I don't know. Everything I think," she replied. + +Mr Cheviott glanced round--then his eyes returned to the table. + +"Mrs Golding has certainly sent us provisions enough to stand a siege," +he said. + +"I suppose she thinks you and Miss Cheviott would starve outright +without her to take care of you," said Mary. + +"Just exactly what she does think," he replied. "How do you--have you +ever seen her?" + +Mary wished her remark had remained unspoken, but judged it best to put +a good face upon it. "Yes," she said, bravely, her traitorous cheeks +flaming again, nevertheless; "I saw her that--that ill-starred day when +I got locked up in your haunted room." + +"Ah, yes, of course," said Mr Cheviott. Then he hesitated. "Why do +you call it `that ill-starred day'?" he asked, with some curiosity. "It +did not do you any harm, did it? You were not so very frightened, +surely?" + +"I was _very_ frightened--ridiculously frightened," replied Mary; "but I +suppose my nerves, though I hate to speak or think of such things as +nerves, were hardly in their usual order that day. I had had a good +deal to try me. Yes, I was _very_ frightened. When I heard your step +approaching the door, I was nearly beside myself with fright." Here a +half-smothered exclamation from Mr Cheviott, which, had it been from +any one else, would have sounded to Mary marvellously like "poor child!" +caused her to hesitate. She looked up at him--no, he was calmly filling +his wine glass--she must have been mistaken. Still she hesitated, but +only for a moment. Could she ever hope for such an opportunity again? +Be brave, Mary, and make the most of it! "It was not on account of my +fright that I so dislike the remembrance of that day," she went on, +hurriedly. "It was because for the first--no, for the _second_ time in +my life, I felt that I had put myself into an utterly false, a most +lowering position." + +"How?" said Mr Cheviott, quickly. But there was nothing impertinent in +the question--his tone of interest was too genuine. + +"How?" repeated Mary; "don't you see how? If you do not, I am +increasingly thankful to be able to tell you how--to show you how +horrible it was for me to be forced into such a position. How? Why, of +course, by re-entering a house where, only the day before, I had been so +so--" + +Mr Cheviott looked up, and again Mary saw the dark flush, not often +seen there, rise to his forehead. + +"So--so what? Do not speak hastily," he said. "Yet perhaps it is best +to know the worst. You are not going to say `so _insulted_'?" + +"No," said Mary, "I was not. So _misjudged_, I think, was the word on +my lips." + +Mr Cheviott smiled--a bitter, sarcastic smile, it seemed to Mary, and +perhaps she was right. It roused her to go on. + +"I don't know why I should care--the matter can have less than no +interest for you, as little as your opinion of it _ought_ to have for +me, and yet I do care--care exceedingly that you, Mr Cheviott, should, +know that I was actually _forced_ into going to your house that day-- +that nothing but the risk of possible disloyalty to others, to another, +at least, made me give in to do so. But of course I never dreamed of my +going there coming to your knowledge. I may be blunt and plain-spoken, +but I am not capable of such coarse, obtrusive defiance as that would +have been." + +Mr Cheviott got up from his chair and walked about for a minute or two. +"She thinks her position painful," he said to himself, "and to such a +sensitive girl it must be so, I suppose. Nothing that I could say would +ever make her believe the light in which what she did really appears to +me. And still less can she know how infinitely, unspeakably more +painful than hers _my_ position is!" Then he came back to the table, +and standing opposite Mary, he said, earnestly: + +"I am glad you have told me what you have felt about it," he said; "but +will you believe me, Miss Western, when I tell you that your coming +again to Romary _never_ struck me as you think. If I thought about it +at all, it was to feel sure that, as you say was the case, you had been +forced to come. It was not likely, was it," he went on, with +considerable bitterness in his tone, "that I should imagine you would +_wish_ to come in my way after--well, never mind. It is enough for me +to say," his voice resuming its earnest kindliness, "that nothing you +could do would ever appear to me `coarse, or obtrusive, or defiant,' or +anything but brave and true and _womanly_." + +Mary was mollified in spite of herself. But her prejudices and +prepossessions were far too deep-rooted to have received more than a +very passing shake. And alas! in her moment of triumph she forgot to be +generous. + +"I am unaccustomed to compliments," she said, coldly. "And I did not +mean to ask you to _make allowance_ for me. No doubt my disadvantages +incline you to do so--just as you would have excused my ignorance of +French the first time I spoke to you. You have misunderstood me, Mr +Cheviott. I am not _ashamed_ of what I did, I only regret the ignorance +of the world which made me trust to not being misunderstood." + +Again Mr Cheviott got up from his seat--this time more hastily. + +"I wonder," he said, in a low, constrained voice,--"I wonder, Miss +Western, if you are anxious to make me unsay some of the words I just +now, in all honesty, applied to you?" + +Mary did not reply. + +"I have my wish," she said to herself, "I have succeeded in forcing him +to be _un_civil." + +And when her conscience smote her a little she silenced it by the old +reflection that it was Lilias's enemy with whom she was doing battle. +What question could there be of hurting the feelings of the man who had +done his best to break her darling's heart?--who had even _avowed_ his +deliberate intention of destroying the happy prospects that might have +been hers? + +CHAPTER TWENTY. + +AN ENFORCED ARMISTICE. + + "... Yet he talks well + But what care I for words? yet words do well + When he that speaks them pleases those that hear. + ... But for my part + I love him not, nor hate him not; and yet + I have more cause to hate him than to love him." + + _As You Like It_. + +There was not, however, much appearance of enmity by the following +morning between these two thus strangely thrown together. All other +feelings were for the time merged in increasing anxiety about poor Alys. +For the night that followed her accident was a sadly restless and +suffering one, and on the doctor's early visit the next day he detected +feverish symptoms which clouded his usually cheery face. + +"I can say no more as to what lasting--or, comparatively speaking, +lasting--injuries she may have received," he said, in reply to Mr +Cheviott's anxious inquiries. "What we have to do at present is to try +to get her over the immediate effects of the shock. An attack of fever +would certainly only complicate matters, and I cannot see that she +_need_ have it if only we can keep her perfectly quiet." + +"Then there is no chance of moving her at present?" said her brother. + +"It would be most unwise--bringing on the very risk I speak of," replied +Mr Brandreth, decidedly. "She is comfortable enough--thanks to Miss +Western." + +"Yes," said Mr Cheviott, "thanks to Miss Western--but that is just the +point." + +"What?" + +"I cannot expect Miss Western to turn into a sick-nurse to oblige +absolute strangers--people who have no sort of claim upon her," replied +Mr Cheviott, haughtily. + +Mr Brandreth glanced at him with some curiosity. + +("I wonder how much truth there was in those reports about Captain +Beverley and Lilias Western," he said to himself.) + +"She must be required at home--her time must be valuable--I cannot offer +to _pay_ her," continued Mr Cheviott, with increasing annoyance in his +tone. + +"They _might_ be able to spare her. I believe they do keep a servant," +said Mr Brandreth, dryly. + +"Nonsense, Brandreth, don't joke about it," said Mr Cheviott, +irritably. "You must understand what I mean--the extreme annoyance of +having to put one's self under such an obligation to--to--" + +"To people you know exceedingly little about, it is clear," said Mr +Brandreth, severely. "If it be a right and Christian thing to do, Mr +and Mrs Western will spare their daughter to nurse your sister, Mr +Cheviott, just as readily as they spared her to nurse Jessie Bevan when +she broke her leg." + +"So Miss Western herself told me," observed Mr Cheviott. + +"Ah, then you have come upon the subject?" said the doctor. "And +evidently Miss Mary has rubbed his high mightiness the wrong way," he +added to himself, with an inward chuckle. + +"Not exactly. I never thought of having to ask her to stay longer than +to-day. All that was said was when I was thanking, or trying to thank, +her last night for what she had done, and I suppose I made a mess of +it," said Mr Cheviott, with a shrug of his shoulders. + +"Well, I must be going," said Mr Brandreth, rising as he spoke. + +"And what is to be done?" asked Mr Cheviott, helplessly. "Am _I_ to +ask her to stay?" + +"You are certainly not to send her away," replied Mr Brandreth, greatly +enjoying the situation; till, pitying Mr Cheviott's discomfort, he +added, "I'll tell you what I'll do for you. I will tell Mary she is not +to leave Miss Cheviott on any account till I see her again in the +afternoon, and in the mean time I will see Mrs Western and explain it +all to her, and let you know the result. I'll take it all on myself, if +that will comfort you." + +"You are very good," said Mr Cheviott, fervently. + +"I am sure they will spare her for a fortnight or so--" + +"A fortnight!" ejaculated Alys's brother, ruefully. + +"_At least_," said Mr Brandreth, pitilessly, "and be thankful if the +fortnight sees you out of the wood. Lilias Western is going away +to-morrow, or the day after, but the mother's quite capable of managing +without her daughters for once, and it will do Miss Alexa, the only fine +lady of the family, no harm to have to exert herself a little more than +usual." + +"_Another_ daughter," exclaimed Mr Cheviott. "Good Heavens! how many +are there?" + +"Five--and three sons. I've known them all ever since they were born." + +"And the eldest one--Miss Western--the one here is the second, is she +not?--the eldest is going away, you say?" inquired Mr Cheviott, +indifferently, imagining he had quite succeeded in concealing the real +curiosity he felt as to this new move in the enemy's camp. + +"Yes," said Mr Brandreth, mischievously, "she is certainly going away, +but where to I don't know. She is a beautiful girl--you have seen +her?--I should not be surprised to hear of her marriage any day. There +has been some amount of mystery about her of late--they are rather +reserved people at all times--and I could not help wondering if there +could be anything on the tapis. She seems in very good spirits, +anyway." + +"Ah, indeed!" said Mr Cheviott, carelessly. He hated gossip so +devoutly that not even to satisfy the very great misgivings Mr +Brandreth's chatter had aroused, would he encourage it further. "Then +we shall see you again in the afternoon, and till then I am to do +nothing about these arrangements?" he added, and Mr Brandreth felt +himself dismissed. + +It was not afternoon, however, but very decidedly evening before the +doctor paid his second visit to the farm. In the mean time he had seen +Mrs Western and explained to her the whole situation, and the result +had been a note to Mary from her mother desiring her not to think of +coming home that afternoon, as she had intended, and promising a visit +from Lilias the following morning, when all should be discussed and +settled. Concerning this note, however, Mary, not feeling it incumbent +on her to do so, had made no communication to Mr Cheviott. + +"It will be time enough to tell him what my mother says if he mentions +the subject," she thought. "There is not much fear of his thinking I am +staying here for the pleasure of his society." + +And in her absorbing care of poor Alys, and anxious watching for +abatement in the unfavourable symptoms of the morning, she really +forgot, feeling satisfied that she was acting in accordance with her +parents' wishes, any personal association of annoyance in her present +surroundings. + +Mr Cheviott marvelled somewhat at her calm taking-for-granted that she +was to stay where she was; but, true to his agreement with Mr +Brandreth, he said nothing. And the long, dull, rainy day passed, with +no conversation between the two watchers but the matter-of-fact remarks +or inquiries called forth by their occupation. By evening Alys's +feverishness and excitability decreased, yielding evidently to Mary's +scrupulous, fulfillment of the directions left with her. + +"She has fallen asleep beautifully--she is as calm and comfortable as +possible," the young nurse announced triumphantly to Mr Cheviott, as +she came into the kitchen where he, manlike, sat smoking by way of +soothing his anxiety. + +He looked up. Mary stood in the door-way, her eyes sparkling, a bright +smile on her face. Just then there could not have been two opinions +about her beauty. Mr Cheviott rose quickly. + +"You are a born sick-nurse, Miss Western," he said, heartily, speaking +to her for almost the first time without a shadow of constraint in his +voice. But, as he uttered the words, the smile faded out of Mary's face +and a white, wearied look crept over it. She half made a step forward, +and then caught at a chair standing close by, as if to save herself from +falling. + +"It's nothing," she exclaimed, recovering herself instantaneously. +"Don't think I was going to faint. I _never_ do such a thing. I was +only giddy for an instant. I had been stooping over Al--Miss Cheviott's +bed to see if she was really asleep." + +"You have been doing a great deal too much, and I can never thank you +enough--the truth is, I don't know how to thank you without annoying you +by my clumsiness," said Mr Cheviott, remorsefully. But so genuinely +cordial--almost boyish--was his way of speaking that Mary, even had she +felt equal to warfare, could have found no cause of offence in his +words. + +"_Don't_ thank me, then," she said with a smile, as she sat down in the +old wooden arm-chair--the most comfortable the kitchen contained--which +Mr Cheviott had drawn round for her to the side of the fire. + +"I am too tired to discuss whether your `clumsiness' or my +`touchiness'"--a slight cloud overspread her face at the word, but only +for an instant--"is to blame for my ungraciousness yesterday. If Mr +Brandreth pronounces your sister decidedly better when he comes +to-morrow I shall be well thanked." + +Mr Cheviott sat down without speaking, and looked at her. He could do +so for the moment without risk of offence, for Mary's eyes were fixed on +the fire, which danced and crackled up the chimney with fascinating +loveliness. Her face, seen now in profile and without the distracting +light of her brown eyes, whiter too than its wont, struck him newly by +its unusual refinement of lines and features. + +"Where have those girls got their looks from?" he said to himself. +"Alys was right that day that I was so cross to her in Paris, poor +child; these Western girls might, as far as looks go, be _anybody_, to +speak like a dressmaker! And where, too, have they learned such perfect +self-possession and power of expressing themselves, brought up in the +wilds of Hathercourt?" + +"The fire looks as if it were bewitched," said Mary, glancing up at +last. "When we were children we always believed when it darted and +crackled and _laughed_, as it were--just as it is now--we always thought +fairies were playing at hide and seek in the flames." + +"Was it your own idea?" said Mr Cheviott. + +"Not mine," said Mary. "_My_ fairies were all out-of-doors ones. Wood +fairies were my favourites. Oh, dear! how dreadful it would be to live +in a town?" + +"Alys doesn't think so," observed her brother. "She often complains of +the country being dreadfully dull." + +"Ah, yes--in _her_ case I could fancy so," said Mary, complacently. "No +brothers or sisters, and a huge empty house. To enjoy the country +thoroughly, it seems to me one must be one of a good large family." + +A faint remembrance flitted across Mr Cheviott's mind of the +half-contemptuous pity with which he had alluded to Mrs Brabazon to the +overflowing numbers in Hathercourt Rectory. _Now_, Mary's allusion +slightly nettled him. + +"Alys is not quite alone in the world," he said, stiffly, hardly +realising the fact that Miss Cheviott of Romary could be an object of +commiseration to one of the poor clergyman's numerous daughters. "She +has a brother." + +"Oh, yes, of course," allowed Mary. "But so much older than herself, +you see. I can fancy her being dull sometimes." + +Mr Cheviott gave a slight sigh. Mary's quick conscience pricked her. + +"I should not have said that," she thought. "Poor man, it would be +dreadful for him just now, when she is lying ill, to think he has not +made her life as happy as possible." + +She leaned her head on her hand and tried to think of some safe topic of +conversation. These enforced _tete-a-tetes_ she felt to be far the most +trying part of her life at the farm. Mr Cheviott, looking up, observed +her attitude. + +"You are _very_ tired, I fear, Miss Western," he said, with the +unconstrained kindliness in his voice which so softened and mellowed its +tones. + +Mary roused herself at once. + +"Oh, no," she said, "I am really not _very_ tired. I am waiting rather +anxiously for Mr Brandreth. I thought he would have been here before +this. I must get something to do," she went on, looking round. "I wish +I had asked Lilias to send a few books." + +"Please don't get anything to do," said Mr Cheviott, eagerly. "You +don't know what a satisfaction it is to me to see you resting, and how +glad I should be to do anything for you. Would you like--might I," he +went on, with a sort of timidity which made Mary smile inwardly at the +idea of the unapproachable Mr Cheviott feeling any want of assurance in +addressing _her_! "might I read aloud to you? I sent home for some +books to-day. Alys is rather fond of my reading aloud," he added, with +a smile. + +"I should like it very much indeed, thank you," said Mary. "And if-- +just _supposing_ the sound of your voice sent me sleep, you would not be +very much offended, would you?" + +Mr Cheviott laughed--he was already looking over some magazines which +Mary had not before observed on the dresser. + +"What will you have?" he said. "Poetry, science, fiction? Stay, here +is a good review of H.'s last novel that I wanted to see. The German +author, you know. Have you read it?" + +He made the inquiry rather gingerly, being not without remembrance of +the snub he had received _a propos_ of the Misses Western's knowledge of +French. + +"No," said Mary, "I have not. But I have heard a good deal about it, +and should like to hear more, so please read that review." + +It was a well written notice, and the subject of it one worthy of such +writing. Mr Cheviott grew interested, and so did Mary. He read well, +and she listened well; till some remark of the writer's drawing forth +from Mr Cheviott an expression of disagreement, Mary took up the +argument, and they were both in the midst of an amicably eager +discussion when the door opened and Mr Brandreth appeared on the +threshold. + +An amused smile stole over his face. + +"Good news awaits me, I see," he said, with some pomposity. "Miss +Cheviott must be better, or her faithful nurse would not be chattering +so merrily--eh, Miss Western?" + +Mary looked up with a glimmer of fun in her eyes. "Yes," she said, "she +_is_ better. That is to say, she is fast asleep, and has been for two +hours. She is sleeping as quietly as a baby, quite differently from +last night, and, as far as I could judge before she fell asleep, the +feverish symptoms had subsided wonderfully." + +Mr Brandreth rubbed his hands and came nearer the fire, where Mr +Cheviott, having risen from his chair, was standing in an attitude of +some slight constraint. + +"I expected you earlier," he said, in a low voice _not_ intended for +Mary's quick ears, which, as might naturally be expected, it reached +with marvellous celerity. + +"Ah, yes--sorry to have disappointed you," said Mr Brandreth, still +rubbing his hands, but by this time with less energy and more enjoyment, +as they gradually thawed in front of the blazing fire. "I could not +help it, however, and my mind felt more at ease about things here after +I had seen Mrs Western. But I am sorry to have kept you here waiting +for me all day, Mr Cheviott. It must be very tiresome for you." + +"I did not intend returning to Romary to-day," said Mr Cheviott, +speaking now in his ordinary voice. "Of course it would have been +impossible." + +"I don't know that," replied Mr Brandreth. "There is not much that you +can do for your sister, and it must be dreadfully wearisome work for you +hanging about here all day, particularly in the evenings," he added, in +a tone of special commiseration, "when you cannot even get out for a +stroll." + +Mary glanced up quickly. + +"How I wish he would go back to Romary?" she had been thinking to +herself while Mr Brandreth was speaking. "I would not mind staying +here at all, in that case." + +But something indefinable in Mr Brandreth's voice just now roused her +suspicions. Was he laughing at Mr Cheviott? If so, he was, in a +sense, laughing at her too. Mary began to feel rather indignant. +Lilias was right; there was a touch of coarseness about Mr Brandreth +notwithstanding his real goodness and kindness, which hitherto had +always prevailed with Mary to take his friendly bantering in good part. +Something, she knew not what, she was on the verge of replying, when Mr +Cheviott anticipated her. + +"The _evenings_?" he said, simply, yet with a sort of dignity not lost +upon either of his hearers--"this evening, at least, has been anything +but wearisome, as Miss Western has kindly allowed me to read to her, and +I fortunately lighted upon an article which interested us both. I may +ride over to Romary to-morrow to see if I am wanted for anything; but I +could not feel content to leave this, with Alys still in so critical a +state. I have not been _very_ troublesome, I hope, have I, Miss +Western?" he added, turning to Mary with a smile. There was not a shade +of constraint in his manner now, yet no "Clara Vere de Vere" could have +desired to be addressed with more absolute deference and respect. + +For the first time Mary experienced a sensation of real friendliness +towards her host for the time being. Hitherto her most cordial feeling +with regard to him had been a sort of pity--a slightly pleasurable +consciousness of meriting his gratitude; and in such one-sided +sentiments, no root of actual _friendliness_--of which the "give and +take" element is the very essence--could exist. Now, for the first +time, a flash of something like gratitude to him, of quick appreciation +of his instinctive chivalry, lent a softness to her voice and a light to +her eyes which Mr Cheviott, without taking credit to himself for the +change, was agreeably conscious of, as she replied, gravely: + +"You have been very considerate indeed, Mr Cheviott. And it seems to +me that till your sister is decidedly better, it would not be well for +you to go away." + +"Thank you," said Mr Cheviott, simply, while in his own mind Mr +Brandreth whistled. How the wind lay was beginning to puzzle him. + +"You saw mamma?" said Mary, interrogatively, turning to Mr Brandreth. +"I had a note from her this afternoon, telling me not to go home to-day, +and that you would see me again." + +Mr Cheviott heard her with some surprise. This, then, supplied the key +of her quietly remaining at the farm all day with no talk of quitting +her post. What a more and more interestingly unusual study this girl's +character was becoming to him! So brave, yet so shrinkingly sensitive, +so wise, yet so unsophisticated, so self-reliant and coolly determined, +yet yielding in an instant to the slightest expression of parental +authority! + +"Yes," said Mr Brandreth, oracularly, "I saw your mamma, Miss Mary, and +explained the whole to her. Her views of the situation, as I felt sure +would be the case, entirely coincide with mine. She will not hear of +your leaving Miss Cheviott at any risk to her, for I fully explained +that your remaining might do what we doctors seldom are called in time +enough for--it may _save_ your patient an illness instead of curing her +of one. The greatest triumph of the two, in my opinion! Furthermore, +your mother desires you not to worry about things at home. Miss Alexa +and Master Josephine," (reverting to a very threadbare joke on poor +Josey's hobbledehoyism) "are developing undreamed-of capabilities--Josey +was very nearly packing herself into your sister's box in her anxiety to +take your place as her assistant--yes, you are not to worry about things +at home, and--let me see--oh, yes, you are to take good care of yourself +and not get knocked up, and--and--Miss Lilias will be here in the +morning and tell you all that has happened since you left home--let me +see, how many hours ago?" + +Mary laughed cordially. This kind of banter she could take in the best +part. And she really was glad to hear all about home. How well she +could fancy poor Josey's ineffectual attempts at helping Lilias to pack, +and Lilias's good-humoured despair at the results!--it seemed ages since +she had seen them all. + +"Then I am to wait here till further orders," said Mary, "and those +orders, in the first place, I suppose, will be yours, Mr Brandreth?" + +"Probably," the doctor replied. + +"And I? Whose orders am I to be under?" inquired Mr Cheviott. + +"Miss Western's," said Mr Brandreth. "In my absence Miss Western is +commander-in-chief." + +But his little pleasantry fell harmless this time. Mr Cheviott and +Mary only smiled. And then Mary took the doctor into the next room to +see unconscious Alys sleeping, as her friend had said, as sweetly as a +baby. + +CHAPTER TWENTY ONE. + +PLEDGED. + + "Love, when 'tis true, needs not the aid + Of sighs, or oaths, to make it known." + + _Sir C. Sedley_. + +"To-morrow" was a fine day at last. And Lilias was up betimes. It was +the day before that of her leaving home, and, notwithstanding the great +preliminary preparations, there were still innumerable last packings to +do, arrangements to be made, and directions given--all complicated by +Mary's absence. Then there was Mary to see, and not wishing to be +hurried in the long talk with her, without which Lilias felt it would +really be impossible to start on her journey, she set off pretty early +for the farm. + +It was a great bore certainly, as Josey expressed it, that Mary should +be away just at this particular juncture. Lilias missed her at every +turn, and felt far from happy at leaving her mother without either of +her "capable" daughters at hand, especially as Mr Brandreth had plainly +given Mrs Western to understand that Mary's stay at the Edge, if it +were to do real and lasting good, might have to be prolonged over two or +three weeks. + +"That poor girl will not know how she is till she gets over the first +shock of her accident," he had said; "and if, as I much fear, there is +any actual injury, she may be thrown back into a brain fever if there is +no sensible, cheerful person beside her to help her over the first brunt +of such a discovery." + +"But do you think her _badly_ hurt--crippled, perhaps, for life?" +Lilias had asked, with infinite sympathy in her face. "What a fate!" +she was saying to herself; "far better, in _my_ opinion, to have been +killed outright than to live to be an object of pity, and even, perhaps, +shrinking, on the part of others. Fancy such a thing befalling me, and +my being afraid of Arthur ever seeing me again!" + +She gave an involuntary shiver as she made her inquiry of Mr Brandreth, +who looked surprised. + +"Why, Miss Lilias," he said, "you've not half your sister's nerve! What +have you been doing to yourself, you don't look half so strong and +vigorous as you used to." + +"That is why she is going away," said her mother, quietly. "She has not +been well lately. But tell us about poor Miss Cheviott, please." + +"I do not think she will be crippled for life--nothing so bad as that-- +but she will probably have to lie and rest for a long time. The great +point is to get her well over the first of it, and that is why I am so +anxious for Mary to stay." + +And so it had been decided, and somehow, in spite of her regret at its +happening just at this time, Lilias could not bring herself to feel +altogether distressed at Mary's remaining at the farm; and though she +did not exactly express this to her sister, Mary did not remain +unconscious of it. + +"I wish I were not going away, then it would be all right," she said, +when they were sitting together in the farm-house kitchen. + +"I am most particularly glad you are going away," Mary replied. "I +hardly know that I could have agreed to stay here, had you not been +going away." + +"Why?" asked Lilias, opening wide her blue eyes. "Because--because--oh! +I can't exactly put it into words," replied Mary. "You might +understand without my saying." But seeing that Lilias still looked +inquiringly, she went on: "Don't you see--I don't want these +people--_him_, I mean," (Mr Cheviott had ridden over to Romary),--"to +think we would take advantage of this accident--this wholly fortuitous +circumstance, not of their seeking, and assuredly not of ours, of my +being thrown into their society, to bring about any intimacy, any +possible endeavour to recall--you know whom I mean--to--to what we had +begun to think might be." + +"Your powers of expressing yourself are certainly not increasing, my +dear Mary," said Lilias, with a smile, though the quick colour mounted +to her cheeks. "I really do think you worry yourself quite +unnecessarily about what Mr Cheviott thinks or doesn't think. I cannot +believe, as I have always said--I cannot believe he has been to blame as +much as you imagine. Don't you like him any better now that you have +seen more of him?" + +"I don't _want_ to like him better," said Mary, honestly. "He is, of +course, most courteous and civil to me--more than that, he is really +considerate and kind, and certainly he is a cultivated and intelligent +man, and not, in some ways, so narrow-minded as might have been +expected. But I don't _want_ to like him, or think better of him; +whenever I seem to be tempted to do so it all rises before me--selfish, +cold, _cruel_ man, to interfere with your happiness, my Lily." + +Mary gave herself a sort of shake of indignation. + +"You are a queer girl, Mary," said Lilias, putting a hand on each of her +sister's shoulders, and looking down--Lilias was the taller of the two-- +deep down into her eyes--blue into brown. The brown eyes were +unfathomable in their mingled expression--into the blue ones there crept +slowly two or three tears. But Lilias dashed them away before they +fell, and soon after the sisters kissed each other and said good-bye. + +"I wonder," said Lilias to herself, as she stood still for a moment at +the juncture of the two ways home, debating whether or not she might +indulge herself by choosing the pleasanter but more circuitous path +through the woods. + +"I wonder if anything will have happened--anything of consequence, I +mean--before I see Mary again, six weeks or so hence." + +An idle, childish sort of speculation, but one not without its charm for +even the wiser ones among us sometimes, when the prize that would make +life so perfect a thing is tantalisingly withheld from us, or, alas! +when, in darker, less hopeful days, there is _no_ break in the clouds +about our path, and in the weariness of long-continued gloom we would +almost cry to Fate itself to help us!--Fate which, in those seasons, we +dare not call God, for no way of deliverance that our human judgment can +call Divine seems open to us. Will nothing _happen_?--something we dare +not _wish_ for, to deliver us from the ruggedness of the appointed road +from which, in faint-hearted cowardice, we shrink, short-sightedly +forgetting that, to the brave and faithful, "strength as their days" +shall be given. + +But in no such weariness of spirit did Lilias Western "wonder" to +herself; she was young and vigorous; there was a definite goal for her +hopefulness; her visions of the future could take actual shape and +clothing--and how much of human happiness does such an admission not +involve? She "wondered" only because, notwithstanding the +disappointment and trial she had to bear, life was still to her so full +of joyful possibilities, of golden pictures, in the ultimate realisation +of which she could not as yet but believe. + +"Yes," she repeated, as, deciding that a delay of ten minutes was the +worst risk involved, she climbed the narrow stile into the wood--"yes, I +_wonder_ how things will be when dear Mary and I are together again? +Such queer things have happened already among us. Who _could_ have +imagined such a thing as Mary's being `domesticated' with the Cheviotts? +I wonder if Arthur Beverley will hear of it? Oh, I do, do wish I was +not going away to-morrow!" + +She stopped short again for a moment, and looked about her. How well +she remembered the spot where she was standing! It was not far from the +place where she and her sisters had met Captain Beverley that day when +he had walked back with them to the Rectory. How they had all laughed +and chattered!--how very long ago it seemed now! Lilias gazed all round +her, and then hastened on again, and as she did so, somewhat to her +surprise, far in front of her, at the end apparently of the wood alley +which she was facing, she distinguished a figure approaching her. It +was at some distance off when she first saw it, but the leafless +branches intercepted but little of the light, which to-day was clear and +undeceptive. + +"It must be papa," she said to herself, when she was able to distinguish +that the figure was that of a man--"papa coming to meet me, or possibly +he may be going on to see Mary at the farm." + +She hurried on eagerly, but when nearer the approaching intruder, again +she suddenly relaxed her pace. Were her eyes deceiving her? Had her +fancy played her false, and conjured up some extraordinary illusion to +mislead her, or was it--could it be Arthur Beverley himself who was +hastening towards her? Hastening?--yes, hastening so quickly that in +another moment there was no possibility of any longer doubting that it +was indeed he, and that he recognised her. But no smile lit up his face +as he drew near; he looked strangely pale and anxious, and a vague +misgiving seized Lilias; her heart began to beat so fast that she could +scarcely hear the first words he addressed to her--she hardly noticed +that he did not make any attempt to shake hands with her. + +"Miss Western," he said, in a low, constrained, and yet agitated tone, +"I do not know whether I am glad or sorry to meet you. I do not know +whether I _dare_ say I am glad to meet you." He glanced up at her for +an instant with such appeal and wistfulness in his eyes that Lilias +turned her face away to prevent his seeing the quick rush of tears that +_would_ come. "What you must have thought of me, I cannot let myself +think," he went on, speaking more hurriedly and nervously. "But you +will let me ask you something, will you not? You seem to be coming from +the farm--tell me, I implore you, have you by any chance heard how my +poor cousin is? Is she still alive? She cannot--she _must_ not be +dead!" + +His wildness startled Lilias. A rush of mingled feelings for an instant +made it impossible for her to reply. What could be the meaning of it +all? Why this exaggerated anxiety about Alys Cheviott, and at the same +time this tone of almost abject self-blame? Lilias felt giddy, and +almost sick with apprehension--was her faith about to be uprooted? her +trust flung back into her face? Were Mary's misgivings about to be +realised? Was it true that Arthur, influenced by motives she could but +guess at, had deserted her for his cousin? + +Captain Beverley misinterpreted her silence. His face grew still paler. + +"I see what you mean," he said, excitedly. "She _is_ dead, and you +shrink from telling me. Good God, what an ending to it all!" + +A new sensation seized Lilias--a strange rush of indignation against +this man, so false, yet so wanting in self-control and delicacy as to +parade his grief for the girl he imagined he had lost, to the girl whose +heart he had gained, but to toss it aside! She turned upon him fierily. + +"No," she said, "she is not dead, nor the least likely to die. I have +nothing more to say to you, Captain Beverley. Be so good as to let me +pass." + +For he was standing right in front of her, blocking up the path. At her +first words he drew a deep breath of relief and was on the point of +interrupting her, but her last sentences seemed to stagger, and then to +petrify him. He did not speak, he only stood and looked at her as if +stupefied. + +"Why are you so indignant?" he said at last. "Why should I not ask you +how Alys is?" + +"Why should you?" Lilias replied. "She is your own cousin. _I_ +scarcely know her by sight--we are not even acquaintances. Captain +Beverley, I must again ask you to let me pass on." + +Half mechanically the young man stood aside, but as Lilias was about to +pass him he again made a step forward. + +"Miss Western--Lilias," he exclaimed, "I shall go mad if you leave me +like this. I had been thinking, hoping wildly and presumptuously, you +may say, that, in spite of all, in spite of the frightful way +appearances have been against me, you--you were still," he dropped his +voice so low that Lilias could scarcely catch the words, "still +_trusting_ me." + +Lilias looked up bravely. + +"So I was," she said. + +"And why not `so I _am_'?" he said, eagerly, his fair fare flushing +painfully. + +Lilias hesitated. + +"I don't know," she said at last. "I cannot understand you and--and +your manner to-day." + +Captain Beverley sighed deeply. + +"And I--I cannot, dare not explain," he said, sorrowfully. "Don't +misunderstand me," he added, hastily, seeing a quick, questioning glance +from Lilias at the word "dare." + +"I mean I am bound for the sake of others not to explain. I have, +indeed, I now see, been bound hand and foot by the folly of others +almost ever since I was born! There is nothing I would not wish to +explain to you, nothing that I should not be thankful for you to know-- +but I cannot tell it you! Was ever man placed in such a position +before?" He stopped and appeared to be considering deeply. "Lilias," +he went on, earnestly, "it seems to me that I am so placed that I must +do one or other of two wrong things. I must break my pledged word, or I +must behave dishonourably to you--which shall it be? Decide for me." + +"Neither," said Lilias, without an instant's hesitation. "You shall not +break your word, Arthur, for my sake. And you shall not behave +dishonourably to me, for, whatever you do or don't do, I promise you to +believe that you have done the best you could; I have trusted you, +hitherto, against everybody. Shall I, may I, go on trusting you?" + +Arthur looked at her--looked straight into her eyes, and that look was +enough. + +"Yes," he said, "you may." + +There was silence for a moment or two. Then Arthur added: + +"Lilias," he said, "I have not in the past behaved unselfishly--hardly, +some would say, honourably to you. But it was out of thoughtlessness +and ignorance; till I knew you, I did not know myself. I had no idea +how I could care for any woman, and I had ignorantly fancied I never +should. I cannot explain, but I may say one thing. Should you be +afraid of marrying a poor man--a really poor man?" + +Lilias smiled. + +"I half fancied there was something of that kind," she said. "No," she +went on, "I should not be afraid of marrying _you_ as a poor man. I +have no special love for poverty in the abstract. I know too much of +it. And I am no longer, you know, what people call `a mere girl.' I am +two-and-twenty, and have had time to become practical." + +"It looks like it," said Arthur, smiling too. + +"But my practicalness _makes_ me not afraid of poverty on the other +hand," pursued Lilias. "I have seen how much happiness can co-exist +with it. My only misgiving is," she hesitated--"you would like me to +speak frankly?" + +"Whatever you do I entreat you to be frank," said Arthur, earnestly. "I +don't deserve it, I know, but Heaven knows I would be frank to you if I +could." + +"I was only going to say--my people--my parents and Mary, perhaps, might +be more mercenary _for_ me--because they have all spoiled me, and I have +been horribly selfish, and they might think me less fit for a struggling +life than I believe I really am." + +"Yes, I can fancy _their_ feelings for you by my own," said Arthur, +sighing. "And how I would have enjoyed enabling you to be a comfort to +them--to your mother, for instance. Lilias, I am cruelly placed." + +"Poor fellow!" said Lilias, mischievously. + +"Yes," said Arthur, "I am indeed. Will you now," he went on, "tell me +about Alys? How is she, and where?" + +Lilias told him all she knew. + +"And your sister nursing her," said Arthur. "How extraordinary!" + +Notwithstanding his surprise, however, Lilias could see that the idea of +the thing was not unpleasing to him. + +"But for that--but for Mary's being with her, you and I would not have +met this morning," she said. + +"You may go further and say that but for Alys's accident I should not +have been here," said Arthur, while a shade fell over his sunny +countenance. "It is too cold for you standing here. Let us walk on a +little." + +"Are you not going to the farm?" Lilias asked. + +"No. Now that I have seen you I shall hurry back the way I came. You +have told me all there is to hear. Poor Alys! Lilias, I _wish_ I could +explain to you why I felt so horribly, so unbearably anxious about her. +I am _very_ fond of her; but once lately when I was nearly beside myself +with perplexity and misery, Laurence--her brother, you know--to bring me +to what _he_ would call my senses, I suppose, said something which has +haunted me ever since I heard of her accident yesterday morning. If she +had been killed I should have felt as if I had killed her." + +He looked at Lilias, with a self-reproach and distress in his open +boyish face which touched her greatly--the more as, now that the +brightness had for the moment faded out of his countenance, she could +see how much changed he was, how thin and pale and worn he looked. + +"I think I can understand--a very little," she said, gently, "without +your explaining. But you have grown morbid, Arthur. You _know_ you +would suffer anything yourself rather than wish injury to any one." + +"I suppose I have grown morbid," he said. "Morbid for want of hope, and +still more from the constant horrible dread of what you must be thinking +of me. I shall not know myself when I get back to C. I may have dark +fits of blaming myself for involving you in my misfortunes--but then to +know that you trust me again! Surely, whatever the world might say, I +have _not_ done wrong, Lilias? To you, I mean?" + +"You have given me back my life, and youth, and faith and everything +good," she replied. "Can that be doing me wrong?" + +They walked on a little way in silence. Then Arthur stopped. + +"I must go, I fear," he said, reluctantly. "And I suppose we must not +write to each other. No, it would not be fair to you to ask it." + +"I should not like to write to you without my father and mother's +knowledge," said Lilias. + +"No, of course not. And, as I am placed--my difficulties involve +others, that is the worst of it--I do not see that I can avoid asking +you not to mention what has passed to your people, _at present_. Does +that make you uncomfortable?" + +Lilias considered. + +"No," she said, "I do not see that it alters my position. Hitherto I +have gone on trusting you, without saying anything about it to any one. +Till I met you this afternoon, and your own manner and words misled me, +I have never left off trusting you, Arthur, _never_. And so I shall go +on the same way. But I couldn't write to you without them all knowing. +I mean I should not feel happy in doing so. Besides, it would not be +very much good. You see you cannot explain things to me yet, so we +could not consult together." + +"Not yet," said Arthur. "But as you trust me, trust me in this. If +_any_ effort of mine can hasten the explanation, you shall not long be +left in this position. You are doing for me what few girls would do for +a man--do not think I do not know that, and believe that I shall never +forget it. Two years," he went on, in a lower voice, almost as if +speaking to himself, but Lilias caught the words--"two years at longest, +but two years are a long time. And if I take my fate in my own hands, +there is no need for waiting two years." + +"Do nothing rash or hasty," said Lilias, earnestly. "Do nothing for +_my_ sake that might injure you. Arthur," she exclaimed, hastily, as a +new light burst upon her, and her face grew pale with anxiety--"Arthur, +_I_ am surely not to be the cause of misfortune to you? Your pledging +yourself to me is surely not going to ruin you? If I thought so! Oh! +Arthur, what would--what _could_ I do?" + +Arthur was startled. He felt that already he had all but gone too far, +and Mr Cheviott's words recurred to him. "If the girl be what you +think her, would she accept you if she knew it would be to ruin you?" +Recurred to him, however, but to be rejected as a plausible piece of +special pleading. "Ruin him," yes, indeed, if she, the only woman he +had ever cared for, threw him over, then they _might_ talk of ruining +him. And were there no Lilias in the world, could he have asked Alys to +marry him--Alys, his little sister--now that he knew what it was to love +with a man's whole love? + +"Lilias," he said, with earnestness almost approaching solemnity in his +voice, "you must never say such words as those, _never_; whatever +happens, you are the best of life to me. And even if I had returned to +find you married to some one else, my position would have remained the +same. That is all I _can_ say to you. No, I will do nothing rash or +hasty. For your sake I will be careful and deliberate where I would not +be, or might not have been so, for myself." + +"Can you not tell me where you are going, or what you are doing?" said +Lilias, with some hesitation. + +"Oh, dear, yes! Somehow I fancied you knew. I am at C, studying at the +Agricultural College, studying hard for the first time in my life. My +idea is," he added, speaking more slowly, "to fit myself, if need be, +for employment of a kind I fancy I could get on in--something like +becoming agent to a property--that sort of thing." + +Lilias looked up at him with surprise and admiration. This, then, was +what he had been busy about all these weary months, during which +everybody had been speaking or hinting ill of him. Working hard--with +what object was only too clear--to make a home for _her_, should the +mysterious ill-fortune to which he alluded leave him a poor and homeless +man! Lilias's eyes filled with tears--was he _not_ a man to trust? + +Then at last they parted--each feeling too deeply for words--but yet +what a happy parting it was! + +"To think," said Lilias to herself as she hurried home, "to think how I +was wondering what might happen in the next six weeks--to think what has +happened in the last half hour!" + +And Arthur, all the way back to C, his heart filled with the energy and +hopefulness born of a great happiness, could not refrain from going over +and over again the old ground as to whether _something_ could not be +done--could not the Court of Chancery be appealed to? He wished he +could talk it over with Laurence--Laurence who was just as anxious as he +to undo the cruel complication in which they were both placed. + +"Only then again," thought Arthur, "that foolish, ridiculous prejudice +of his against the Westerns comes in and prevents his helping me if he +could. And to think of Mary being there as Alys's nurse! How he will +hate the obligation--If it were not so serious for poor Alys, I really +could laugh when I think of Laurence's ruffled dignity in such a +position!" + +CHAPTER TWENTY TWO. + +ALYS'S BROTHER. + + "In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts + Bring sad thoughts to the mind." + + _Wordsworth_. + +Days passed--a week, ten days of Mr Brandreth's fortnight were over, +but still he would say nothing definite as to the possibility of moving +Alys to Romary. And Alys herself seemed marvellously contented--the +reason of which she made no secret of to Mary. + +"You see I have never had a really close friend of near my own age--and +you are only two years older," she said one day. "And I never could +have got to know you so well in any other circumstances--could I? You +do understand me so well, Mary. It is perfectly wonderful. If I were +never to see you again, I could not regret my accident since it has made +me know you." + +Mary was silent. + +"Why don't you answer?" said Alys, anxiously. "Am I horribly selfish to +speak so, when this time you have given up to me has kept you away from +your dear home and all of them, and interfered with your regular +duties?" + +"No, dear," said Mary, "it isn't that at all. My being away from home +has not mattered in the least; besides, I am near enough to hear at once +if they really needed me. No, I was only thinking I could not say I did +not regret your accident, because, though I am thankful you are so far +better, I feel so anxious about you afterwards. Even though Mr +Brandreth does not anticipate seriously-lasting injury, you may have a +good deal of weariness and endurance before you. He told you?" + +"Yes," said Alys, composedly. "I know I shall not feel strong and well, +as I used, for a long time, if ever. I shall have to rest a great deal, +hanging about sofas, and all that--just what I hate. But I don't mind. +I am still glad it happened. It has done me good, and it has done some +one else good too. Was that all you hesitated about, Mary?" + +"Not quite." + +"Well, say the rest--_do_!" + +"I was only thinking that I could not respond as heartily as I would +like to your affection, Alys, because I hardly see that my friendship +_can_ be much good to you in the future." + +"Why?" + +"Our lives are so differently placed--we are in such totally different +spheres--" + +"Oh! Mary," exclaimed Alys, reproachfully, "you are not going to be +proud, and refuse to know us because we are rich and you are--" + +"Poor," added Mary, smiling. "No, not on that account exactly." + +"Why, then? Is it because you suspect that at one time Laurence +discouraged my knowing you? You can afford to forgive that, surely, +_now_. And it was his duty, I suppose, to be very careful about whom I +knew, having no mother or sister, you know; and at that time he did not +know you." + +"No, he did not; and it _was_ his duty, as you say, to be very careful. +He did not know us, true, but at least he knew no harm of us, except +that we were out of the charmed circle. And did _that_ justify him in-- +Oh! Alys, dear, don't make me speak about it. Let us be happy this +little while we are together." + +"Mary, do you dislike Laurence?" + +"I do not like unfounded prejudices," replied Mary, evasively. + +"That means Laurence, I suppose. But, Mary, people can outgrow their +prejudices. I am not sure that you yourself are not at present partly +affected by prejudice." + +"No," said Mary, in a firm but somewhat low voice. "I am not, indeed. +I cannot defend myself from the appearance of being so, but it is not +the case, truly." + +Alys sighed. + +"Don't make yourself unhappy about it, dear," said Mary. + +"I can't help it," said Alys, dejectedly. "There is something I don't +understand. I don't ask you to tell me anything you would rather not, +but I am so disappointed. I wanted you to get to like Laurence. I +know--I can see he likes you, and that was why I thought it had all +happened so well. I did not mind the idea of being a sort of invalid +for some time when I thought of your coming to see me often at Romary, +and staying with us there. Mary, won't you come? I was speaking to +Laurence about it last night, and he said, if I could persuade you to +come, he would be most grateful to you." + +"I don't want him to be grateful to me," said Mary, lightly. + +"How can he help being so? What he meant was, of course, that if you +came it would be out of goodness to me. You _must_ know that he would +consider it a favour." + +"Yes, I do. Mr Cheviott is not the least inclined to patronise people, +I will say that for him," said Mary, laughing. + +"Then you _will_ come to Romary?" said Alys, coaxingly. + +Mary shook her head. + +"I must be honest, Alys dear," she said, "and to tell you the truth, I +can't imagine myself going to Romary ag--ever going to Romary, I mean, +under any circumstances whatever." + +"How you must dislike Laurence!" said Alys. "Has he displeased you +since you have been here?" + +"Oh dear, no," said Mary, eagerly. "He has been as kind and considerate +as possible. I wish I could help hurting you, Alys. I can say one +thing, I do like Mr Cheviott _as your brother_, more than I could have +believed it possible I could ever like him." + +"Faint praise," said Alys. + +"But not of the `damning' kind. I mean what I say," persisted Mary. +"And--perhaps you will think this worse than `faint praise'--since I +have seen him in this way--as your brother--I cannot help thinking that +circumstances, the way he has been brought up, have a good deal to +answer for in his case." + +Alys's face flushed a little, yet she was not offended. + +"And why not in mine?" she said. "I have had more reason to be spoiled +than poor Laurence. His youth was anything but a very smooth or happy +one. My father was not rich always, you know." + +"Was he not? Still `rich' is a comparative word. Mr Cheviott has +always `moved in a certain sphere,' as newspapers say, and he cannot +have had much chance of seeing outside that sphere," said Mary, with the +calm philosophy of her twenty years' thorough knowledge of the world in +all its phases. "As for you, Alys, you are not spoiled, just because +you are not. You are a duck--at least you have a duck's back--it has +run off you." + +And both girls were laughing at this when Mr Cheviott, just returned +from his daily expedition to Romary, entered the room. + +"You are very merry," he said, questioningly. "By-the-bye, Miss +Western," he went on, with some constraint but, nevertheless, resolution +in his voice, "I hope you have good news of your sister?" + +"Excellent, thank you," replied Mary, looking up bravely into his face. +"She is as happy and well as possible." + +There was a ring of truth in her voice, and, indeed, Mr Cheviott would +have found it hard to doubt the truth of anything that voice of hers +said. + +"There is no bravado in that statement," he said to himself. "I cannot +understand it." + +"And what were you laughing at when I came in?" he said, turning to +Alys, as if to change the subject. + +Alys looked at Mary. + +"Mary," she said, mischievously, "shall I tell?" + +"If you like," said Mary, quietly. + +"Oh, Mary, was just giving me her opinion of us--of you and me, +Laurence--the result of her observations during the last ten days," said +Alys. + +Mary looked up quickly. + +"Alys," was all she said; but Alys understood her. Mr Cheviott was +listening attentively. + +"Well," Alys went on, "perhaps that is not putting it quite fairly. I +must confess, Laurence, I forced the opinion out of her, and it took a +good deal of forcing, too." + +"And what was the opinion--favourable or the reverse? May I not hear +that?" asked Mr Cheviott. + +"It was _pretty_ favourable," Alys replied. "On the whole, taking +everything into consideration, the enormous disadvantages of our +up-bringing, etc, etc, Miss Western is disposed to think that, on the +whole, mind you, Laurence, _only_ `on the whole,' we are neither of us +quite so bad as might have been expected. But then we must remember, +for fear of this verdict making us too conceited, you see, Laurence-- +upsetting our ill-balanced minds, or anything of that sort--we must +remember that it is not every day we can hope to meet with a judge so +wide-minded, and philosophical, and unprejudiced, _absolutely_ +unprejudiced, as Miss Western." + +During this long tirade Mary remained perfectly silent, only towards its +close her face flushed a little. + +"Alys," she said, when Alys at last left off speaking, the colour +deepening in her face--"Alys, I don't think that is quite fair." + +"Nor do I," said Mr Cheviott, suddenly, for he too had been sitting +silent, in apparent consideration. "But, Miss Western, I know Alys's +style pretty well. I can pick out with great precision the grains of +fact from amongst her bewildering flowers of rhetoric, so, on the whole, +mind you, Miss Western, _only_ `on the whole,' I feel rather gratified +than the reverse by what she rails your verdict." + +"I am sorry for it," said Mary, dryly. + +"Why so?" + +"I should think poorly of myself were I to feel any gratification at +being told that, on the whole, I was not as bad as I might have been. +There is no one hardly, I suppose, so bad but that it might be possible +to conceive him worse." + +"That was not quite Alys's wording of your opinion," said Mr Cheviott. +"Nor, I venture to say, quite the sentiment of the opinion itself. But +in another sense I agree with you; there is hardly any one--no one, in +fact--of whom we might not say, if we knew all the circumstances of his +or her history--of his or her existence, in fact--that it was a wonder +he or she was so good--not so bad." + +"That is taking the purely--I don't know what to call it--the purely +human view of it all," said Mary, growing interested and losing her +feeling of discomfort. "My father would say we are forgetting what +should be and may be the most powerful influences of all, in whatever +guise they come, on every life--the spiritual influences, I mean. And +these can never be reduced to calculation and estimate, however wise men +become." + +"Yes, but think of the terrible forest of ill-growing weeds, the awful +barrier of evil, individual and inherited, these influences have to make +their way through!" + +He rose from his chair and went across the room to the fire-place, where +he stood contemplating the two girls. Mary, in her plain grey tweed, +unrelieved by any colour, except a blue knot at the throat, but fitting +her tall figure to perfection. Her "browny-pink" complexion, hazel +eyes, and bright chestnut hair, all speaking of youth and strength and +healthfulness, contrasting with Alys, who lay loosely wrapped in the +invalid shawls and mantles Mary had carefully arranged about her-- +prettier, more really lovely, perhaps, than her brother had ever seen +her, her dark hair and eyes seeming darker than their wont, from the +unusual whiteness of her face. She looked too lovely, thought Mr +Cheviott, with a sigh, her fragility striking him sharply, in comparison +with the firmness and yet elasticity of Mary's movements, as she leaned +over Alys to raise her a little. How natural, how strangely natural it +all seemed! Mr Cheviott sighed. + +"Laurence," exclaimed Alys, "what in the world is the matter?" + +Her brother smiled. + +"Nothing--that is to say, I can't say what makes me sigh. I was +thinking just then what a strange power of adaptation we human beings +have. It seems to me so natural to be living here in this queer sort of +way. You ill, Alys, and Miss Western nursing you. I could fancy it had +always been so--in a dreamy, vague sort of way." + +"I know how you mean," said Mary. + +"Shall you be sorry when it is over, Laurence," said Alys, "and we are +back again at Romary, without our guardian angel?" + +"One is always sorry, in a sense, when anything is over, at least, I am. +I suppose I have the power of settling myself in a groove to an unusual +degree," said Mr Cheviott, evasively. + +"You certainly have not the power of making pretty speeches," said Alys. +"_I_ called Mary `our guardian angel,' and _you_ call her a `groove'." + +Just then Mrs Wills put her head in at the door with an inquiry for +Miss Western, and Mary went out of the room. + +"I wanted you to say something about Mary's perhaps coming to Romary," +said Alys. + +"Why? Do you think she would come?" asked Mr Cheviott, doubtfully. + +"No, I do not think she would," Alys replied, "but I wanted her to see +that _you_ would like her to come." + +"Did she _say_ that she would never come to see you at Romary?" Mr +Cheviott said. + +"Yes, decidedly. Her words were, `I cannot fancy myself, under _any_ +circumstances whatever, going to Romary,' and I thought I heard her half +say `again'--`going to Romary again.' But she has never been there?" +Mr Cheviott did not reply; he turned to the fire and began poking it +vigorously. + +"Laurence," said Alys, feebly. + +"What, dear?" + +"Please don't poke the fire so. It seems to hurt me." + +"I am so sorry," said her brother, penitently. "It's the same with +everything," he added to himself. "I seem fated to make a mess of +everything I have to do with.--I wish I were not so clumsy," he went on +aloud to his sister. "What shall I do with you at Romary? How shall we +ever get on without Miss Western?" + +"I shall have to make the best of Mrs Golding, I suppose," said Alys, +in a melancholy voice. "But she fusses so! Oh, Laurence, isn't it a +pity? Just as I have found a girl who could be to me the friend I have +wished for and needed all my life, a friend whom even you, now that you +know her, approve of for me, that she should have this prejudice against +knowing us. Indeed, it must be more than prejudice. She is too +sensible and right-minded to be influenced by that." + +"Does she know that I, at one time, objected to your knowing her?" said +Mr Cheviott. + +"She knows something of it--not, of course, that I ever said so to her-- +but she is very quick, and gathered the impression somehow. But it is +not that. She said you were quite right to be careful whom I knew, and +that, of course, she and her people were strangers to you. I don't +think Mary would resent anything that she felt any one had a _right_ to +do. No, it is not that," said Alys. + +"What can it be, then? Is it her horror of putting herself under any +obligation?" + +"Obligation, Laurence! As if all the obligation were not on our side!" + +"Well, yes. I don't think I meant that exactly. I mean that, perhaps, +she may feel that, owing her so much, we could not do less than invite +her to Romary. She may have an exaggerated horror of any approach to +being patronised." + +"No, she is not so silly. She knows we should be _grateful_ to her for +coming. She is neither so silly, nor, I must say, so vulgar-minded, as +you imagine. Laurence, even though you own to liking and admiring her +now, it seems as if you could not throw off that inveterate prejudice of +yours," said Alys, rather hotly. + +Mr Cheviott, under his breath, gave vent to a slight exclamation. + +"Good Heavens, Alys," he said, aloud, "I think the prejudice is on your +side. You cannot believe that I _can_ act or feel unprejudicedly." + +"I do not know what to believe," said Alys, dejectedly. "I am +bewildered and disappointed. There is something that has been concealed +from me, that much I am sure of. And I do think you might trust me, +Laurence." + +It sounded to Laurence as if there were tears in her voice. He went +over to her bed-side, and kissed her tenderly. + +"My poor little Alys," he said, "indeed I do trust you, and, indeed, I +would gladly tell you anything you want to know, if I could. But there +are times in one's life when one cannot do what one would like. Can't +_you_ trust _me_, Alys?" + +Alys stroked his hand. + +"Could I ever leave off trusting you, Laurence?" she said, fondly. "I +do not mind so much when you tell me there is something you can't tell-- +that is treating me like a sensible person, and not like a baby." + +That was all she said, but, like the owl, "she thought the more." + +And Mr Cheviott too--his thoughts had no lack of material on which to +exert themselves just then. He was sorry for Alys--very sorry--and not +a little uneasy and ready to do anything in his power to please and +gratify her. But how to do it? + +"She cannot, under any circumstances whatever, imagine herself ever +coming to Romary again," he said to himself, over and over, as if there +were a fascination in the words. "Ah, well, it is a part of the whole," +he added, bitterly, "and Alys must try to content herself with something +else." + +A slight cloud seemed, for a day or two, to come over the comfort and +cheerfulness of the little party at the farm. Mary was conscious of it +without being able, exactly, to explain it. "But for Alys," she felt +satisfied that she would not care in the least. + +"Mr Cheviott may `glower' at me if he likes," she said to herself. "I +really don't mind. I am not likely ever to see him again, so what does +it matter? He is offended, I suppose, because I did not at once accept +with delight the invitation which he condescended, grudgingly enough, no +doubt, to allow poor Alys to give me." + +So in her own thoughts, as was her way, she made fun of the whole +situation and imagined that Mr Cheviott's decrease of cordiality and +friendliness had not the slightest power to disturb her equanimity. Yet +somehow in her honest conscience there lurked a faint misgiving. It was +difficult to call his evident dejection haughtiness or temper, difficult +to accuse of offensive condescension the man whose every word and tone +was full of the gentlest, almost deprecating, deference and respect-- +most difficult of all to hold loyally to her old position of contempt +for and repugnance to a man so unmistakably unselfish, so almost +woman-like in his tender devotion to the sister dependent on his care. + +"Yet he _must_ be heartless," persisted Mary, valiantly, "he _must_ be +narrow-minded and cruel, and he _must_ be what any straightforward, +honourable person would call unprincipled and intriguing, wherever the +carrying out of his own designs is in question." + +"I shall be so glad to be home again, mamma," she said to her mother one +afternoon when she had left Alys for an hour or two, to go home to see +how the Rectory was getting on without her. + +"Yes, dear, I can well fancy it," replied Mrs Western, sympathisingly. +"You must just remember, you know, Mary, that your present task, however +distasteful, is just as much a _duty_ as if that poor girl were one of +the cottagers about here. Indeed, almost more so. I dare say, in spite +of their wealth and position, she is far more really friendless than any +other of our poor neighbours. But she is a sweet girl, you say?" + +"_Very_," said Mary, warmly. "It is a pleasure to do anything for her." + +"Poor child! And with such a brother! A _most_ disagreeable, cold, +haughty man, I hear. But he surely cannot be anything but courteous to +you, Mary? Under the circumstances, anything else would be too +outrageous." + +"Oh dear, no," said Mary, hastily, startled a little somehow by her +mother's tone. "He is perfectly civil to me--most considerate, and I +suppose I should say `kind.' Only I shall be glad to be at home--they +are talking now of moving Miss Cheviott to Romary on Thursday--and back +into my regular ways. Mother, I'm an awful old maid already, I get into +a groove and like to stay there." + +The words recurred to her on her way back to the Edge. Would she really +be so glad to be home again? She had used Mr Cheviott's expression, +and it led her into the train of thought which had suggested it to him. +Yes, there was truth in what he said. In almost every kind of life, in +almost any circumstances, even if painful in themselves, there grows up +secretly, as the days pass on, a curious, undefinable charm--a something +it hurts us to break, though, till the necessity for so doing is upon +us, we had been unconscious of its existence. + +"It must be that," said Mary. "I have got into the groove of my present +life, and now that it is coming to an end, disagreeable though it has +been, I feel it strangely painful to leave it. Of course it is natural +I should feel pain in parting from Alys, whom I can _never_ be with +again; but, besides that, I am sorry to have done with the whole +affair--the queer incongruous life, the old kitchen in the evenings, and +Mr Cheviott and his books in the corner, the feeling I am of use to +her, to them both, that they would have been wretchedly uncomfortable +without me, and that even now that I am away for an hour they will be +missing me. What queer, inconsistent complications we human beings are! +It is just the coming to an end of it all, the beginning to see it in +the haze of the past, that gives it a charm." + +She stood still and gazed across over the bare, long stretch of meadow +land before her to the far distant horizon, radiant already in the +colours of the fast setting sun. Suddenly a voice behind her made her +start. + +"Are you bidding the sun good-night?" it said. + +Mary turned round and saw Mr Cheviott. + +"Yes," she replied. "I suppose I was. There, is something rather +melancholy about a sunset, is there not?" she added after a little +pause. + +"There is something not rather, but very melancholy about all farewells. +And sunset is good-bye forever to a day, though not to the sun," said +Mr Cheviott. + + "`Out of Eternity + This new day is born; + Into Eternity + At night will return.'" + +"Yes," said Mary again. "It is like what my little sister Francie once +said, `What a sad thing _pastness_ is.'" + +"How pretty!" said Mr Cheviott. "Pastness! Yes, it is a sad thing, +but fortunately not an ugly thing. Distance in time as well as in +space, `lends enchantment to the view.' How strangely little things +affect us sometimes," he went on. "There are occasions, little events +of my life, that I cannot recall without an indescribable thrill, +neither of pleasure nor pain, but a strange, acute mixture of both. And +yet they are so trifling in themselves that I cannot explain why they +should so affect me." + +"I think I have felt what you mean," said Mary. + +"And in the same way I have felt extraordinarily affected by a far-off +view sometimes," pursued Mr Cheviott. "When I was a boy, from my +nursery window we had, on clear days, a view of the shire hills, and on +the top, or nearly on the top of one of them, we could, on _very_ clear +days, distinguish a little white cottage. Do you know, I could never +look at it without the tears coming into my eyes, and yet, if it had +been near enough to see it plainly, most likely it was the most prosaic +of white cottages." + +"I have had the same feeling about things _not_ `enchanted' by +distance," said Mary. "Once, on a journey, driving rapidly, we suddenly +passed a cottage with two girls sitting on the door-step. A ray of +rather faint evening sunlight fell across them as they sat, otherwise +everything about the scene was commonplace in the extreme. But yet +_something_ made me feel as if I were going to cry. I had to turn my +head away and shut my eyes." + +"That's just what I mean," said Mr Cheviott, and then for a minute or +two they both stood silent, gazing at the sunset. + +"Miss Western," said Mr Cheviott, at last, "when you are back at the +Rectory again, and the present little phase of your life is past and +done with, I trust its `pastness' may soften all the annoyance you have +had to put up with. Even I, I would fain hope, may come in for a little +of the benefit of the mellowing haze of distance and bygoneness?" + +"I do not feel that I have had _any_ annoyances to bear," said Mary, +cordially. "Alys has been only too unselfish, and--and--you, yourself, +Mr Cheviott, have been most considerate of my comfort. My associations +with the Edge can never be unpleasant." + +"Thank you--thank you, so very much," said Mr Cheviott, so earnestly +that Mary forthwith began to call hereof a humbug. + +Would it not have been honest to have said a little more--to have told +him that, while she really did thank him for his courtesy and +thoughtfulness, nothing that had happened had, in the least, shaken her +real opinion of his character? Of the other side of his character, so +she mentally worded it in instinctive self-defence of her constancy. +For, indeed, to her there had come to be two Mr Cheviotts--Alys's +brother, and, alas! Arthur Beverley's cousin! + +CHAPTER TWENTY THREE. + +ARTHUR'S COUSIN. + + "I loved him not, and yet, now he is gone, + I checked him when he spoke; yet could he speak--" + + _W.S. Landor_. + +The evening that followed this little conversation was one of the--if +not the--pleasantest of those Mary had spent at the farm. Alys seemed +wonderfully stronger and better, or else she had caught the infection of +her brother's unusually good spirits, and, till considerably past her +ordinary hour of settling for the night, Mr Cheviott and Mary stayed in +her room, laughing, chattering, and joking till Mrs Wills began to +think more experienced nurses would be better fitted to take care of the +young lady. + +"Not that Miss Mary has not an old head on young shoulders, if ever such +could be," she remarked to her husband, "but Miss Cheviott, for all that +she's a-lying there so weakly-like, and many a month, it's my opinion, +when they get her home again, will have to lie; she do have a sperrit of +her own. And the master, as I'm always a-going to call him, thinking of +our Captain Beverley it must be, he has a deal of fun in him, has Mr +Cheviott, for all his quiet ways, as no one would fancy was there." + +But, by and by, Mary exerted her authority. Alys must go to sleep. +What would Mr Brandreth say if he found her knocked up and wearied the +next day--Wednesday, too, the day before the move to Romary, for which +all her strength would be required? So whether sleepy or not, Alys had +to obey orders, and, as Mary had a long letter to Lilias to write, Mr +Cheviott volunteered to read his sister to sleep, for which Mary +sincerely thanked him. + +He came into the kitchen an hour or so later, while she was still busy +with her letter. He had a book in his hand, and sat down quietly to +read it beside the fire. After a while the kitchen clock struck ten. + +"Miss Western," said Mr Cheviott, "I think if I had any authority over +you, as you have over Alys, I would exert it to make you go to bed. You +were up very early, you have been on your feet, about one thing and +another, nearly all day, besides a good long walk; and now you are +writing I should be afraid to say _how_ many sheets full. Don't you +intend to take any rest? I feel responsible, remember, for the +condition in which you go back to the Rectory, and I don't want your +father and mother to think Alys and I have no conscience about +overworking you." + +Mary left off writing, and looked up with a smile. Her wavy brown hair +was somewhat disarranged, and she pushed it back off her temples with a +slight gesture of weariness. Her face was a little flushed, but her +eyes were bright and happy-looking. Those dear, good, honest eyes of +hers, ready to tell of pleasure and content, as of, it must be +confessed, disapproval or indignation! She made a pleasant picture, +tumbled hair notwithstanding--she reminded Mr Cheviott, somehow, of the +day he had first seen her under the porch of the old church, when she +had looked up in his face with that peculiarly attractive expression of +hers of hearty, fearless good-will. + +"I do believe, now that I leave off writing and can think about it," she +said, "I do believe I _am_ a little tired. Not that I have done +anything unusual to-day by any means. I suppose I must go to bed," +looking regretfully at her not yet completed letter; "but writing to +Lilias is such a temptation." + +"She is enjoying herself very much, you say," observed Mr Cheviott, in +so natural and unconstrained a manner that, for the moment, Mary +actually forgot that he was the speaker, forgot her ordinarily quick +rising indignation whenever he ventured to name Lilias at all. + +"Exceedingly," she replied, warmly. "I have never had such cheerful, +almost merry, letters from her before when she has been away. I am +delighted; but a little astonished all the same," she added, in a lower +voice, almost as if speaking to herself. + +"I am so _very_ glad of it," said Mr Cheviott, fervently, yet with a +sort of hesitation which recalled Mary to herself. Quick as thought the +blood mounted to her temple--she turned sharply, the whole expression of +her being, even to the pretty curves of her slight firm figure, seeming +to her observer to change and harden. She gathered up the loose sheets +of her letter and made a step or two towards the door. Then her +habitual instincts of consideration and courtesy asserting themselves, +she stopped short. + +"I think I had better go to bed," she said. "Good-night, Mr Cheviott." + +Hitherto, latterly that is to say, in the prevalence of a tacit truce +between these two, the usual amenities of intimate and friendly social +relations had half unconsciously crept in. + +"For Alys's sake," Mary had decided, when for the first time she found +herself shaking hands with the man she had prayed she might "never see +again," "for Alys's sake it is necessary to make no fuss, and perhaps +for my own, too, it is on the whole more dignified to behave in an +ordinary way." + +But to-night, dignity or no dignity, her indignation was again too fully +aroused to allow anything to interfere with its expression, and she was +proceeding in queenly fashion to the door, when, to her amazement, Mr +Cheviott stepped forward and stood in her way. + +"Miss Western," he said, quietly, "won't you say good-night? Won't you +shake hands with me as usual?" + +Mary hesitated. She did not want to make herself ridiculous--for +Lilias's sake even, she shrank from the slightest appearance of +petulance or small resentment. She hesitated; then looking up bravely, +said, honestly: + +"I would rather not, but--" A pair of dark eyes were gazing down upon +her--gazing as if they would read her very soul, so earnest, so _true_ +in their expression that Mary could not but own to herself that it was +difficult to realise that they belonged to an unprincipled and +dishonourable man. + +"But?" he said, gravely. + +"I was only going to say, if you think so much of shaking hands, I don't +mind," said Mary, with a curious mixture of deprecation and defiance in +her tone. "I don't want to be uncourteous or exaggerated--besides, what +is there in shaking hands? We do so half a dozen times a day with +people we do not care the least for." + +"Yes," said Mr Cheviott, gravely still, "we do. But people one doesn't +care the least for are different from people one positively dislikes, or +worse still, _distrusts_." + +"Can't you leave all that?" said Mary, sadly. "_I_ cannot help what-- +what happened, and, indeed"--her voice trembling a little--"towards the +Mr Cheviott I have known _here_ I should be most wrong to have any but +friendly feelings." + +She held out her hand. Mr Cheviott took it in his, holding it for one +little moment longer than was really necessary. + +"Is it always to be war between us, Miss Western?" as if the words could +not be kept back. "Heaven knows how glad _I_ should be to leave forever +all the painful part of the past." + +Mary slowly shook her head. Then looking up suddenly again, she said, +gently: + +"We have got on very well here without fighting. Why should not the +truce last till the end of the time here? There is only another day." + +"Yes," repeated Mr Cheviott. "Only one other day." + +Then Mary went off to bed, but not, for much longer than her wont, to +sleep. Her mind seemed strangely bewildered and perplexed. + +"I have lost all my mile-stones," she said to herself. "I feel as if I +were being forced to think black white in the strangest way. But I +won't--no, I won't, _won't_, won't!" + +And with this laudable determination she went to sleep. + +It was late before Mr Cheviott left the kitchen fire-side that night. + +"Will the truce last," he was saying to himself, "even through another +day? Twenty times in an hour I have been on the point of saying what, +indeed, _would_ end it one way or another. And Arthur thought I could +not sympathise with him! I wonder on which of the two of us that +idiotic will has entailed the greater suffering?" + +His good spirits seemed all to have deserted him by the next morning. +He was grave and almost stern, and, so said Alys, "objectionably +_affaire_ about some stupid letters sent on from Romary." Alys was +unusually talkative and obtrusively cheerful, but Mary understood her +through it all. A cloud of real sorrow was over both girls, more +heavily on Mary, for she knew what Alys was still silently determined to +hope against, that this was far more than the "last day" of their queer +life at the farm, that it was the end of the strange but strong +friendship that, despite all obstacles, had sprung up between them. + +For though Alys had almost pointedly refrained from any recurrence to +the question of their meeting again at Romary, and Mary had been only +too ready to second her in all avoidance of the subject, this absence of +discussion had in no wise softened the girl's resolution. + +"Never," she repeated to herself, "never under _any_ circumstances can I +imagine myself entering that house again." + +And the day wore on without any allusion being made to the when or the +where of their ever meeting again. + +Late in the afternoon Mary had gone at Alys's request to pick some of +the pretty spring flowers to be found in profusion in the Balner woods +hard by, when, as she was returning homewards, laden with primroses and +violets, looking up she saw Mr Cheviott coming quickly along the path +to meet her. + +"Alys?" she exclaimed, quickly, with just the slightest shade of anxiety +in her voice. "Does she want me?" + +"Oh, no," replied Mr Cheviott, with a smile. "Alys is all right. What +an anxious nurse you are, Miss Western!" + +"Yes," said Mary, "it is silly. I must get accustomed to the idea of +her doing without me. But I could not help having a feeling to-day of a +different kind of anxiety--a feeling of almost superstitious fear lest +anything should go wrong with her to-day--the last day. It would be so +hard to leave her less well than she is, and--of course," she went on, +looking up with a slight flush on her face, "I own to being a little +proud of her! It is a great satisfaction to hear Mr Brandreth say +that, considering all, she could not have got on better than she has +done." + +"Of course it is," said Mr Cheviott, warmly. "And I am more glad than +I can say that you feel it so. It is a little bit of a reward for you." + +Mary did not reply, and they walked on slowly for a few moments in +silence. + +"How pretty your flowers are," said Mr Cheviott, at last. + +"Lovely, are they not?" replied Mary, half burying her face, as she +spoke, in a great rich cluster of primroses that she had tied up +together into a sort of ball. "They are the best flowers of all--these +spring ones--there can be no doubt about it." + +"Or is it that they _are_ the spring ones," suggested Mr Cheviott. + +"A little perhaps," allowed Mary. "Have I not got a quantity? Alys +took a fancy for some to take home to Romary." + +"Poor child, she will not be able to gather any for herself this year," +said Mr Cheviott. + +"No," said Mary. + +"And she will not have you to gather them for her after to-day." + +"No," said Mary again, this time more dryly. + +Mr Cheviott stopped short, and as they were placed in the path, Mary, +without positive rudeness, could not help stopping too. + +"Miss Western," said Mr Cheviott, abruptly, "is your decision quite +unshaken?" + +"What decision?" said Mary, quietly. + +"About coming to see us at Romary, about, in fact, continuing to honour +us with your acquaintanceship--I would _like_ to say friendship, but I +am afraid of vexing you--or the reverse." + +Mary pulled a poor primrose to pieces, petal by petal, before she +replied. + +"I wish," she said, at last, with an appeal almost approaching to pathos +in her tones, "I wish you had done as I begged you last night--let this +last day end peacefully without rousing anything discordant. Mr +Cheviott," she went on, with an attempt at a smile, "you don't know me. +There are certain directions in which I feel so intensely that it would +not take much to make me actually fierce--there is something of the +Tartar underlying what you think cool self-possession--and one of those +directions is my sister Lilias." Her voice faltered a little. "Now +won't you be warned," she added, speaking more lightly, "won't you be +warned, and let our pleasant truce last to the end?" + +"To the end," he repeated, with some bitterness. "A matter of a few +hours, and, for the sake of keeping those peaceful, I am to relinquish +my only chance of--of ever coming to a better understanding with you? +No, Miss Western, I cannot let the subject drop thus." + +"Then what do you want to know?" she said, facing round upon him. + +"I want to know if you keep to your determination never to come to see +my sister at Romary, never to enter my house again, never, in fact, to +have anything more to say to Alys, who is attached to you, and whom I +know you care for? You may say she might come to see you, but at +present, at any rate, that is impossible--besides, in such forced +intercourse there could be no real enjoyment." + +"No," said Mary, "there could not be. It is best to call things by +their right names. I do care for Alys, deeply and truly, but I do not +wish or intend to go on knowing her. I would not ask her to come to my +home to see me, because I cannot go to her home to see her." + +"And why not?" + +"Because she is your sister," replied Mary, calmly. "And because I +could not receive the hospitality of a man who has behaved as I believe +you to have behaved." + +Mr Cheviott drew a step nearer her, and Mary, impelled, in spite of +herself, to look up in his face, saw that it had grown to a deadly +whiteness. She saw, too, something which she was half puzzled, half +frightened at--something which in her short, peaceful experience of +life, she had never come into close contact with--a strong man's +overwhelming indignation at unjust accusation. She stood silent. What +could she say? + +"This is _fearfully_ hard to bear," he said, at last. "I thought I was +prepared for it, but--in spite of myself, I suppose--I had cherished +hopes that recently your opinion of me had begun to soften. Miss +Western, has it never occurred to you as possible that you have +misjudged me?" + +Mary hesitated. + +"Yes," she said, at last. "I may own to you that--lately--I have tried +to think if it _was_ possible." + +"You have _wished_ to find it possible?" said Mr Cheviott, eagerly. + +"Sometimes," said Mary. + +"God bless you for that," he exclaimed, "and--" + +"No, do not say that," she interrupted. "I have more often wished _not_ +to find it so, for I--I gave you every chance--I put it all so plainly +to you that horrible day at Romary--no, it is impossible that I have +done you injustice. Were I to begin to think so, I should feel that I +was losing my judgment, my right estimate of things altogether. But I +do not wish to continue thinking worse of you than you deserve--you may +have learned to see things differently--is it that you were going to +tell me? Heaven knows if your interference has done what can never be +undone, or not; but, however this is, I do not want to refuse to hear +that you have changed." + +Mr Cheviott's face grew sterner and darker. + +"I have not changed," he said. "What I did was for the best, and I +could not but do the same again in similar circumstances." + +"Then," said Mary, hardening at once, "I really have nothing more to say +or to hear. Please let me pass." + +"No," he replied. "Not yet. Miss Western, I value your good opinion +more than that of any one living. I cannot let you go like this. It is +my last chance. Do you not know what I feel for you--can you not see +what you are making me suffer? I have never loved any woman before--am +I to give up all hope on account of this terrible prejudice of yours? +But for that I could have made you care for me--I know I could--could I +not? Mary, tell me." + +His voice softened into a tenderness, compared with which the gentlest +tones he had ever addressed to his sister were hard. But little heard +Mary of tenderness or softness in his words. She stood aghast, +literally aghast with astonishment--amazement rather--so intense that at +first she could scarcely believe that her ears were not deceiving her. +Then, as the full meaning of his words came home to her, indignation, +overwhelming indignation, took the place of every other feeling, and +burning words rose to her lips. For the moment "the Tartar" was, +indeed, uppermost. + +"You say this to me!" she exclaimed. "You _dare_ to say this to me. +You, the man who, in deference to contemptible class-prejudice and to +gratify some selfish schemes, did not hesitate to trample a woman's +heart under foot, and to spoil the best chance for good that ever came +to a man you profess to care for--_you_, selfish, heartless, +unprincipled man, dare to tell me, Mary Western, that you love me! Are +you going out of your senses, Mr Cheviott? Do you forget that I am +Lilias's sister?" + +"No," he said, in atone which somehow compelled her attention. "I do +not forget it, and I am not ashamed to say so. I do not offer you--for +it would but be thrown at my feet with scorn--but I would have offered +you a man's honest, disinterested devotion, were you able to believe in +such a thing as coming from me. But _you_ are blinded by prejudice--you +will take into account nothing but your own preconceived interpretation. +You will not allow the _possibility_ of my being innocent of what you +accuse me of. So be it. But there _have_ been women who have known an +honest man when they found such a one, and have not found their trust +misplaced." + +Some answering chord was touched for the instant in Mary's heart. Her +tone was less hard, less cruelly contemptuous when she spoke again. + +"I am not doubting your sincerity as regards myself," she said, her +voice trembling a little. "I suppose you do mean what you say, however +extraordinarily incomprehensible it appears to me. But _that_ makes +things no better--oh! if you had but left me under the delusion that +there was something to respect in you! I thought you narrow-minded and +prejudiced to a degree, but I had grown to think you had some +principle--that in what you did you were actuated by what you believed +to be right. But what am I to think now? Where are all the +well-considered reasons for interfering between your cousin and my +sister that you would have had me believe in, now that--that--you find +the case your own, or fancy it is so? What can I, too, think of your +principle and disinterestedness?" + +"What you choose," said Mr Cheviott, bitterly. "It can matter little. +But you make one mistake. I never gave you _any_ reasons for my +interference. I told you I had acted for the best, and I madly imagined +it possible that having come to know me, _you_ might have begun to +believe it possible that my conduct was honest and disinterested. I had +not intended to confess to you what I have done. My object in speaking +to you again was purely--believe me or not, as you like--to try to gain +for my sister the hope of sometimes seeing you. I was going on to +volunteer to absent myself from Romary, if personal repugnance to me was +the obstacle, if only you would sometimes come. But I am only human; +your words and your tone drove me into what I little intended--into what +I must have been mad to say to _you_." + +He stopped; he had spoken in a strangely low tone, but he had spoken +very fast, and Mary's first sensation when his voice ceased was of +bewilderment approaching almost to a kind of mental chaos, and of vague +but galling self-reproach. But for a moment she said nothing, and Mr +Cheviott was already turning away, when she called him back, faintly and +irresolutely, but he heard her still. + +"I don't know what to say," she said, brokenly. "I suppose I have said +what I should not. I suppose I let my anger get the better of me. But +I have never learned to dissimulate. Your words seemed to me, +remembering what I did, an insult. I suppose I _should_ have thanked +you for--for the honour. But it has all been a mistake. You must see I +could never have cared for you--_never_; were I ten times satisfied you +had done Lilias no wrong, your conduct to her remains the same. But I +wish to be reasonable. Let us forget all this, and, so far as can be, +let us part friends." + +She held out her hand, this time in vain. + +"No," said Mr Cheviott. "I cannot shake hands on such terms. I run no +risk of hurting your feelings by saying so; you, I know, do not attach +much consequence to so empty a ceremony, but unfortunately I do. +Good-bye, Miss Western." + +He raised his hat and turned away. + +When he was fairly out of sight, Mary sat down on the short grass that +bordered the wood-path, leaned her head against the stump of an old tree +standing close by and burst into tears. Then she took her flowers, the +pretty, winsome things she had plucked so carefully, gathered them all +into one heap, and, rising from her seat, moved by some sudden instinct +of remorse, threw them--threw them, with all the strength of her +vigorous young arms, away, back among the underwood and grassy tangle +where they had grown. + +"Primroses and violets," she said as she did so, "I shall never be able +to endure the sight of you again." + +CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR. + +ET TU, BRUTE! + + "... How strange the tangle is! + What old perplexity is this?" + + _Songs of Two Worlds_. + +And Alys did not get her flowers, poor girl. Nor was she told the +reason why. But late that last evening, when the packing was done, and +the various little personalities that, even in an enforced sojourn of +the kind, are sure to collect about people, above all about people of +individuality and refinement, were all collected together and put away, +and the farm-house rooms had resumed their ordinary consistent bareness, +Mary sat down by Alys's bed and put her arms round the girl's neck and +kissed her with a clinging tenderness that brought the tears to Alys's +eyes. + +"Dear Alys," she said, softly, "I want to thank you." + +"To thank _me_," replied Alys, in astonishment. "Oh, no, Mary, all the +thanks are, _must_ be, on one side." + +"No," said Mary, "I have many things to thank you for. You have been so +patient and sweet, and so grateful for the little I have been able to do +for you. And one thing I may thank you for certainly." + +"What?" whispered Alys. + +"For loving me," said Mary. "You have done me good, Alys. I was +growing, not perhaps exactly selfish, but self-centred. I put my own +home and my own people before everything else, in a narrow-minded way, +and I fancied that people who were different from us externally--people +who had had fewer struggles and more luxuries than my parents--must of +necessity be narrow-minded and self-absorbed and unsympathising. Alys, +it is absurd, but do you know I do believe I have myself been growing +into the very thing I so detested--I do believe, in a sense, I was +encouraging a kind of class prejudice?" + +Alys listened attentively. + +"I see what you mean," she said. "Mary, you are awfully honest." + +"I don't know," replied Mary, vaguely. "Self-deception must be a kind +of dishonesty." + +Alys hardly heard her. She was watching eagerly for the upshot of this +confession, yet afraid of startling away the concession she was hoping +for by any premature congratulation on her friend's altered views. So +she lay, without speaking, till at last Mary's silence roused her to new +misgiving. + +"Won't you go on with what you were saying?" she ventured at last. + +"What was it?" said Mary. + +"Oh! about your being glad you had got to know us, and--" + +"Nay," exclaimed Mary, "I am sure I did not say _that_, Alys. What I +said was that I thanked _you_ for showing me how loving and sympathising +you are, and that being prosperous and rich and courted and all that, as +you are, need not necessarily make one narrow-minded and selfish." + +"Well," said Alys, "it comes to much the same thing. I don't see why +you need have flown up so at my way of putting it." + +"Because," said Mary, with vehemence, disproportionate to the occasion, +"I was speaking of and to you, Alys--you alone." + +"I am sorry to hear it," said Alys, "I would like _my_ praise far, far +more, Mary, if you would give poor Laurence a little bit of it too. He +deserves it, while I--" + +"Never mind," said Mary, uneasily. "Don't let us get into a discussion, +dear Alys." + +"I am sure I don't want to discuss anything except the end of your +sentence. Do finish, Mary. Now that you have got to know _me_, or like +_me_ a little, you are not going to keep to your horrible resolution?" + +Mary's face clouded. + +"I see, what you mean," she said. "Oh! Alys, I am sorry to pain you, +and very, very sorry not to be able to look forward to seeing you again, +but I cannot change. I cannot--" + +Alys leaned forward and put her hand over Mary's mouth. + +"No," she said, "I won't let you repeat that. I know what is coming, `I +cannot under any circumstances whatever imagine myself, etc.' No, Mary, +you are not to say that. It is a sort of tempting Providence to be +obstinate. Fancy now what might happen. Suppose I get much worse, +Mary,--suppose that great London doctor that Laurence is going to have +down to see me, says I can't get better--that I am going to die-- +wouldn't you come to Romary then, to say good-bye, Mary?" + +Mary turned away her head and sighed deeply. + +"I was not going to say what you thought, Alys," she said, at length. +"I was only going to say that I cannot see any probability of my ever +going to you at Romary. If you ever marry, Alys--I should not say that; +you are sure to marry--_when_ you do, I shall go to see you in your own +home, if you still care to have me, and if your husband has no +objection." + +"But yours, Mary? What about his objections or non-objections?" said +Alys. + +"They will never exist, for there will never be such a person," said +Mary, calmly. "It was settled--oh, I can't tell you how long ago, +always, I think--in all our family conclaves there was never a +dissentient voice on the subject--that I was to be an old maid. I am +thoroughly cut out for it. Any one can see that. `Dans mon coeur il +n'y a point d'amour' of _that_ kind, certainly," she hummed, lightly. + +"But, but, Mary," said Alys, "finish the verse." + +"How do _you_ know it?" said Mary. "It's an old Norman or Breton song. +Mother sang it when she was a girl." + +"I _do_ know the second line, and that is all that matters," said Alys, +sagely. "Well, good-night, Mary. You are not quite as naughty as you +have been, but that is the best I can say for you. However, I shall +live in hope. But I am awfully dull, Mary. And how merry we were last +night! It is too bad of Laurence to have gone over to Romary so late +to-night, just when he might have known our--at least my spirits would +need cheering. You, of course, have the getting back to your beloved +people to look forward to." + +And, two mornings after this, Mary woke to find herself in her own +familiar room at the Rectory. What a dream the last fortnight seemed! +And what a long time ago appeared now the day of Alys Cheviott's +accident! Spring had come on fast since then. The leaves of the +creeper round Mary's window were beginning to peep in and to be visible +as she lay in bed, the birds' busy twitter and the early sunlight told +that the world was waking up once more to approaching summer. How +home-like and peaceful it seemed! yet Mary could not feel as delighted +to be at home again as she had expected. + +"I am anxious about Alys, I suppose," she said to herself, "and sorry to +have been obliged to disappoint her. If she knew, what _would_ she +think or feel? would she ever wish to see me again? I hardly think so, +and I could never be at ease in her presence. Another reason in favour +of my decision. Yet I wish I could have avoided saying some of the +things I did--even to _him_. Oh, if only I could forget all about it!" + +For, notwithstanding all the strength of mind she brought to bear on the +subject, that scene in the wood Mary could not succeed in banishing from +her thoughts. Over and over again it rose up before her, leaving behind +it each time, it seemed to her, a sharper sting of pain, a more +humiliating sense of self-reproach. Yet how and where had she been +wrong? Was it not better to be honest at all costs? Over and over +again she determined to banish it finally from her memory, but no sooner +had she done so than some trifle--the sight of a primrose in Francie's +hat, or some apparently entirely disconnected allusion, would bring it +back again as vividly as ever, and, with a certain fascination that Mary +could not explain to herself, every word that Mr Cheviott had said, +every change of expression that had come over his face, would repeat +themselves to her imagination. Was it true? she asked herself, was it +true what he had said to her?--but for her previous knowledge of his +real character, but for the deep-dyed "prejudice," as he had called it, +against him in her mind, could she ever have grown to care for this man? +_Surely_ not--yet why did this assertion of his recur to her so often, +and not altogether in the sense of re-arousing her indignation? + +"He is like two people in one," she said to herself, "but as to which is +the real one, facts, fortunately, leave me in no doubt. And _yet_ I am +sorry to have wounded him so deeply, little as he cared for the feelings +of others." + +"You look tired, Mary dear," said her mother, when, after the early +Rectory breakfast, Mary was preparing as usual to collect her sisters +and little Brooke for lessons in the school-room. "Don't you think you +might leave the children to manage for themselves one other day? You +need rest, I am sure, after all you have gone through." + +"No, mother dear, I am really not tired," said Mary. "I only feel +rather--I don't know how--dissipated, I suppose, unsettled, or whatever +you like to call it." + +"That only means tired, dear," repeated her mother, fondly, so fondly-- +for Mrs Western was not, as a rule, demonstrative with her children-- +that Mary felt angry with herself for not being able to respond more +gratefully to her solicitude, for, in fact, feeling rather irritated +than soothed by it. + +"But I have _really_ had nothing to tire me, mother," she persisted. +"Alys Cheviott was as considerate as possible, and, except the first two +nights, I had no watching or anxiety. It was hardly to be called +`nursing'." + +"Perhaps not," allowed Mrs Western, "but there was the constraint and +discomfort of the life--above all, the enforced intercourse with that +disagreeable man--that Mr Cheviott, whom you dislike so. I really +cannot tell you, Mary dear, how much I have admired your unselfishness +and moral courage during this trying time. But you will never regret +it. Who knows how much good you may have done that poor girl for all +her life--poor I cannot but call her, notwithstanding her riches and +position, and everything--fatherless and motherless, and with such a +cold, selfish brother as her only protector." + +"He is a very good brother to her, mother. I cannot but confess that I +was astonished at his devotion and tenderness to her, and they are +deeply attached to each other," said Mary, her colour rising a little as +she spoke. "I am afraid, mother, I sometimes am too wholesale in my +opinion of people. Once I take a dislike to them it is difficult for me +to see any good in them. I want to correct this in myself." + +"You are so honest, dear," said her mother. + +"And as for my doing good to Alys Cheviott," continued Mary, "it seems +to me rather that she might do _me_ good. She is so simple, so +unselfish and unspoiled." + +"Anyway, I am glad they were considerate, and, I suppose, grateful," +said Mrs Western. "How, indeed, could they be otherwise?" + +And Mary went off to her pupils. + +But lessons seemed rather heavy work this morning. The fortnight's +interregnum had been far from salutary in its effects. Alexa was +languid and uninterested, Josey pert and self-willed, Brooke and Francie +quarrelsome and careless. And, lessons over, there was no Lilias to +whom to resort for ever ready sympathy. Mary felt strangely dull and +dispirited. She missed Alys's bright yet gentle companionship, Mr +Cheviott's constant watchful attention, of which at the time she had +hardly been conscious. She missed the quiet and refinement which had of +late surrounded her even in the homely farm-house. Not that "home" was +unrefined in the coarser sense of the word, but it seemed strangely full +of small worries and irksomenesses and "fuss," and Mary hated herself +for feeling less heartily ready than usual to take her share in them. +She looked round her with vague dissatisfaction and misgiving. How hard +a thing it was, after all, to be poor! How difficult, increasingly +difficult, it appeared to bring up these younger girls as could be +desired! The boys must make their own way in the world; but with regard +to Alexa and Josey, there was no doubt that they stood at a disadvantage +both as to the present and the future. + +"Lilias and I had our own places in the family even at their ages," +thought Mary; "but the third and fourth daughters of a poor clergyman-- +what are they to do? If it were possible to give them a couple of +years' training at some first-rate school they might be fitted to be +governesses. But such a thing is not to be thought of," and, with a +sigh, she turned to the letter to Lilias which was costing her unusual +pains from her excessive anxiety not to let it seem less cheerful in +tone than usual. "What _would_ Lilias say if she knew?" she said to +herself as she wrote. "I do not think I need ever tell her, or any one, +that is one comfort, and--oh, if only I could forget all about it +myself!" + +The next morning brought a letter from Lilias. It came, as the letters +generally did, at breakfast-time, an hour at which there was but little +possibility of privacy for any of the Rectory party. Mary opened, but +merely glanced at it, and put it in her pocket to read when alone. + +"From Lilias," she said, calmly. "It is a long letter. I will read it +afterwards. She begins by saying she is quite well, and sends her love +to everybody, so no one need feel anxious about her." + +"You _might_ read it now, Mary," said Josey. "It would be something to +talk about. You forget how dull it is for Alexa and me--never any +change from year's end to year's end--while Lilias and you go about +paying visits. The least you can do is to amuse us when you return, and +you haven't told us a _thing_ about the Cheviotts." + +"Josephine, be quiet at once," said Mr Western, severely, and to every +one's surprise. "That shrill voice of yours seems to stab my head +through and through." + +"Have you a headache, father dear?" said Mary, with concern. Such an +occurrence was a rare one. + +"Not exactly, but my head seems oppressed and uneasy. I long for +quiet," said the Rector, nervously passing his hand across his forehead. +"Lilias--did you say there was a letter from her? How is she? When +does she return?" + +"Return?" repeated Mary, in surprise. "Why, dear papa, she has not been +away a fortnight yet! The London doctors cannot yet say how soon Mr +Greville is to go to Hastings, and they mean to stay there a month at +least." + +"Ah, yes, to be sure. I am glad she is enjoying herself, poor child, +but I shall be glad to have her back again," said Mr Western, vaguely, +but with a slight confusion of manner which struck Mary as unlike his +usual clear way of expressing himself. She put it all down to the +"headache," however, as her mother said he had been suffering a little +from something of the kind lately. And by the afternoon he seemed quite +like himself again. + +It was not till after morning school hours that conscientious Mary felt +herself free to read the precious letter. She had looked forward to it +as a treat all the morning, and had, from the thoughts of it, gathered +extra patience with which to deal with her somewhat unruly pupils. They +got on rather better this morning, however. + +"I shall get them into shape again in a little," said Mary, to herself, +as at last she sat down on the low window-seat in her own room at +leisure to read all that Lilias had to say; "but it certainly does not +do for me to leave home even for a few days. Even if _I_ could have +agreed to go to Romary sometimes, that is another reason against it. +And, besides, the life there would spoil me for my home duties." + +A vision, a tempting vision, came over her for a moment of how pleasant +a thing "the life there" must be. The quiet and regularity of a +well-trained and well-managed household were in themselves a delightful +thing to one of Mary's naturally methodical and orderly nature; then the +_prettiness_ of the surroundings, the gardens, and the flowers, and the +tastefully furnished rooms, the pictures, and the books, and the +pleasant voices whose tones seemed still to ring in her ears. What +pleasant talks they could have had, they three together; how kind and +attentive to every wish or fancy of hers they would have been; how they +would have feted and made much of her in return for her easy task of +nursing Alys, had she but "given in" and agreed to forsake her colours! +Mary was by no means indifferent, in her own way, to the agreeableness +of much that would have surrounded her position as a guest at Romary; +she was a perfectly healthy-natured girl, well able to enjoy when +enjoyment came in her way, and a girl too of barely one-and-twenty. She +gave a little sigh as she re-opened her letter, hoping, in some vague, +half-unconscious way, therein to find consolation and support and tacit +approval--ignorant though Lilias was of all details of the sturdy stand +she had made. + +But she was disappointed. + +The letter was a nice letter, a very nice letter, as affectionate, +sympathising, and sister-like as a letter could be. Written too in very +good spirits, it was evident to see; the very result that Mary had so +hoped for from Lilias's visit seemed already to be accomplished _a +merveille_. Why was not Mary pleased? + +"What an inconsistent, selfish creature I must be," she said to herself, +when she had finished it. "Why am I not glad, delighted, to see that +Lilias is happy again? If she did _not_ care much for Captain Beverley, +if I was mistaken in imagining her whole heart to be given to him, +should I not rejoice? It does not alter _my_ position, it does not in +the least condone the cruel interference that might have ruined her +life." + +She turned again to a passage in which Lilias spoke of the Cheviotts. + +"Now that you are at home again," wrote Miss Western, "you will have +more time--at least, you will feel freer to tell me all about the +Cheviotts. For it always seems to me a mean sort of thing to sit down +and write elaborate pulling to pieces of people whose hospitality one is +in the act of receiving, even though in your case the receiving it was +certainly enforced and not voluntary. I cannot help thinking Miss +Cheviott an unusually lovable girl, and I shall not be at all sorry to +hear that you have got rid of your terrible prejudice against the +brother; I feel so sure that it is to a great extent undeserved." + +Mary turned over the page impatiently. + +"I wish people would not write about what they don't understand," she +said to herself. "How can Lilias's `feeling sure' affect the question +one way or the other?" + +Then glancing again at the letter, she saw that there was a long +postscript on a separate sheet yet unread. + +"I am forgetting to tell you," it said, "that I do believe I have come +across those cousins of mother of whom you heard something from those +Miss Morpeths when you were staying at the Grevilles. It was at the +doctor's. I had gone there with Mr Greville, as he hated going alone, +and Mrs Greville had a cold. While we were in the waiting-room, an +elderly, very nice-looking lady came in with a tall, thin, _dreadfully_ +delicate-looking boy of about seventeen. As Mr Greville was first +summoned to the doctor, he happened to say as he left the room, `I shall +only be a very few minutes this morning, Miss Western.' Immediately the +lady turned to me and asked me very nicely if I happened to be any +relation of the Westerns of Hathercourt, and did I know Miss Cheviott of +Romary? I was so astonished, but, of course, answered civilly. She +seemed so pleased, and so did the boy, poor fellow, when I told them who +I was. Mr Greville was back before there was time for any more +explanation. But she gave me her card--`Mrs Brabazon'--and asked where +I was staying, and said she would hope to see me before we left town. +The boy's name she said was _Anselm Brooke_, and her own maiden name was +Brooke, so they must be mamma's people. Use your own discretion as to +telling mother or not. It may only revive painful associations with her +if nothing more comes of it." + +"It is curious," thought Mary. "I think I may as well tell mother about +it. It will give them all something else to talk of besides my +adventures at the farm." + +Mrs Western was interested, in her quiet way, in Lilias's news. Mr +Western, somewhat to Mary's surprise, took it up much more eagerly. + +"I should be very thankful, relieved I may say, if some renewal of +intercourse could take place with your mother's relations," he said when +alone with Mary, the subject happening to be alluded to. + +"Would you, papa?" said Mary. "I don't feel as if I cared to know them +in the least. We have been very happy and content without them all our +lives." + +"Ah, yes! Ah, yes!" said her father. "But who knows, my dear, how long +the present state of things may last? Were anything happening to me, I +should leave you all strangely friendless and unprotected. The thought +of it comes over me very grievously sometimes, and yet I hardly see what +I could have done. Basil is so young--a few years hence I trust he may +be beginning to get on--but it will be up-hill work." + +"But Lilias and I are strong and `capable,' father," said Mary, +encouragingly. "_We_ could work if needs were, for mother and the +younger ones. Besides, you are not an old, or even an elderly man yet, +papa." + +"I am not as young and by no means as strong as I have been," said Mr +Western with a sigh. "I don't like this feeling in my head. I have +never had anything like it before, and it makes me fidgety, though I +have not said anything to make your mother uneasy. Perhaps it will be +better now that I have spoken of it; it may be more nervousness than +anything else." + +"I trust so, dear father," said Mary, anxiously. "Are you not glad to +have me back again? Didn't you miss me dreadfully?" she added, trying +to speak more lightly. + +"Very much indeed, my dear. I dare say it affected my spirits more than +I realised at the time. Yet I could wish, as I was saying, that all of +you, you and Lilias especially, had more friends, more outside +interests. I hope we have not been selfish and short-sighted in the way +we have brought you up--keeping you too much to ourselves, as it were;" +again Mr Western sighed. "It is possible, I suppose, to be _too_ +devoid of social ambition. By the way," he went on, "I think that Mr +Cheviott must be a very fine fellow. People took up an unreasonable +prejudice against him in the country at first from his manner, which, I +believe, is cold and stiff. But they are finding themselves mistaken. +He must be exceeding clever, and, what is better, thoroughly +right-minded. I have been very much pleased by some things I have heard +of him lately; he has shown himself so liberal and yet sensible in his +dealings with his tenantry." + +"Indeed," said Mary. She was pleased to see her father roused to his +usual healthy interest in such matters, yet wished devoutly the model +proprietor in question had not been the master of Romary. + +"That place has been grossly mismanaged in the old days," continued Mr +Western. "But it will be a very different story now. How I wish we had +a squire of that kind here, there would be some hope then of doing +practical and lasting good." + +"Still no squire is better than a bad one," said Mary. "True, very +true. How did you like Mr Cheviott, Mary? I was just thinking I +should be rather pleased to make friends with him. He might be a good +friend to the boys some day, and no one could say we had _courted_ the +acquaintance in the way your mother and I have always so deprecated." + +"No," said Mary, feebly. + +"Coming in such an altogether unexpected way, you see," pursued Mr +Western, who seemed "by the rule of contrary," thought Mary, to be +working himself up to increasing interest on the subject she was so +anxious to avoid, "I should not have, by any means, the objection I have +always had to such an acquaintance. They are sure to call--in fact, +they cannot possibly avoid doing so." + +"I don't know," Mary moved herself to say, "I _hardly_ think they will." + +"It will be exceedingly, strangely uncourteous if they do not," said her +father, with unusual warmth. "Surely, my dear, you were not so +ill-advised as to say anything to discourage their doing so," he added, +in a tone of most unwonted irritability. + +"I am afraid what I said may have _indirectly_ tended to do so," said +poor Mary, feeling as if she were ready on the spot to run all the way +to Romary and back to beg Mr Cheviott to call on her father at once. + +"You were very foolish, very foolish indeed," said Mr Western, +severely. "It is pride, and very false pride, that is at the root of +such things, and I warn you that much future suffering is in store for +you if you encourage such a spirit." + +"I can't imagine any future suffering much worse than the present one of +having displeased you," said Mary, struggling hard to keep back the +tears that would come. "But indeed, father, I thought I was doing what +you and mamma would like." + +"Your mother has been mistaken before now in such matters," said Mr +Western. "However, there is no more to be said about it. I confess I +should have enjoyed seeing more of a man of Mr Cheviott's character and +talents, and it is mortifying at my age to be placed in the position of +being unable to receive a friendly call from a neighbour." + +"But I did not put it in that way, papa, indeed I did not," said Mary. +"Oh, papa, cannot you trust me? If there is anything I have thoroughly +at heart it is that you should receive all the respect and consideration +you so entirely deserve." + +"Ah, well, ah, well, my dear, say no more about it. You have made a +mistake, that is all. Do not distress yourself any more about it," said +Mr Western, with some return to his ordinary equanimity. But he +pressed his hand wearily against his head as he spoke with the action +that was becoming habitual to him, and Mary's heart felt very heavy. On +all sides nothing but reproach. Where or how had she done wrong? _Was_ +it all personal pride and offended feeling that had actuated her +conduct, under the guise of unselfish devotion? No, take herself to +task sharply as she would, her conscience would not say so. + +"Though there must have been a mingling of personal feeling and wounded +pride, far more than I was conscious of," she said, regretfully. "And +now it is too late. I have myself placed a far more hopeless barrier +between us by the scornful way I rejected what--what he said to me, +what, indeed, I do not believe he ever would have said had I not in a +way goaded him to it. Oh, yes, I must have been wrong--if only I could +clearly see how!" + +She was too young to have had much experience of that terrible longing, +that anguish of yearning "to see how" we have been wrong; too young to +understand that, were that cry answered at our entreaty, half our hard +battle would be over; too young to have any but the vaguest conception +of the bewildering complication of motive in ourselves, as in others, +which at times makes "right and wrong" seem but meaningless jargon in +our ears, idle words to be presumptuously discarded with other worn-out +childishness. As if our childhood were ever over in this world!--as if +the existence of eternal truth depended on our understanding of it! + +Mr Western's headache increased to severity that afternoon, and Mary +took all the blame of it on to herself, notwithstanding her mother's +consolations and assurances that it would pass off again as it had done +before. + +CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE. + +A TURN OF THE WHEEL. + + "This changing, and great variance + Of earthly states, up and down, + Is _not but_ casualty and chance + (As some men say is without _ressown_)." + + _Robert Henrysoun_. + +It did "pass off" again. The next day Mr Western seemed nearly as well +as usual, though to Mary's eyes there was a tired and unrestful +expression on his face with which she could not feel familiar. + +"He is _not_ looking well. He does not seem like his old self, I am +certain," she said in her own mind over and over again. But what could +be done? He declared there was nothing really wrong; the very mention +of sending for Mr Brandreth irritated him unaccountably, and he was +most urgent with Mary to say nothing to arouse her mother's anxiety. So +the utmost Mary could do was to please him in all the small ways ready +affection can always suggest, to exert herself to be even more cheerful +and entertaining than her wont. + +She wrote to Lilias, begging her to let most of her letters be to her +father, and urging upon her the desirability of meeting with all +possible cordiality Mrs Brabazon's friendly overtures. But for some +days Lilias had nothing more to tell of the new-found cousins. + +A week passed, a week of pretty hard work for Mary. What with "the +children's" extra calls upon her patience and attention, her anxiety +about her father, and unusual efforts to seem cheerful and +light-hearted, its close found her really tired and dispirited. + +"Far more tired than with nursing Alys," she said to herself, when on +Saturday afternoon she was taking Brooke and Francie a walk, thankful to +know that the more troublesome members of her charge were safely +disposed of for the rest of the day in a holiday expedition to old Mr +Halkin's farm. "That was play compared with the worry and fret of the +last few days. And why should I feel it so? There is something not +right about me just now. _I_ am changed, though I blame the children. +I have grown captious and discontented. I do believe that fortnight at +the farm spoiled me--the being thanked and praised for everything I did. +What a silly goose I am, after all! How I do wish I could hear how +Alys is--I do think she might write again, but I suppose it is my own +doing," with a little sigh. + +For two or three pencilled words from Miss Cheviott, saying merely that +they had got safe to Romary, that she had borne the drive pretty well, +but was woefully dull without Mary, were all the news Mary had had of +her late patient. + +Her thoughts were interrupted by little Francie. She had been running +on in front of her brother, but turning suddenly, fled back to Mary in +alarm. + +"What's the matter, dear?" her sister exclaimed, for the child was white +and trembling. + +"A horse," whispered Francie, "another naughty horse coming so fast, +Mary, and it makes me think of that dedful day." + +Francie's fears had exaggerated facts. The horse, coming up behind them +on the soft turf at the side of the path, which deadened the sound of +its approach, was proceeding at an ordinary pace, which slackened +somewhat when its rider caught sight of the little party in front of +him. Slackened, but that was all. Mr Cheviott, for it was he, passed +them at a gentle trot, just lifting his hat to Mary as he did so. +Mary's face flushed as she bowed in return. + +"I do think," she said to herself, "as we are _not_ to be friends, it +would be much better taste for him not to come our way at all. It will +annoy poor father exceedingly, in his nervous state, to hear of Mr +Cheviott almost, as it were, passing our door. But, of course, he may +have business at the farm." + +And she called to Brooke and Francie, volunteering to tell them a story, +and tried her best bravely to force her mind away from the sore subject. +But a surprise was in store for her. + +More than an hour later, when she and the children were close to the +Rectory gate on their return home, little Brooke, who was of an +observant turn of mind, called her attention to some fresh hoof marks on +the gravel drive. + +"See, Mary," he said, "some one's been here since we came out. I wonder +if it was that horse we met, that the gentleman belonged to that bowed +to you?" + +"That belonged to the gentleman, you mean," said Mary, laughing in spite +of herself. "Oh! no, I am sure it has not been he, Brooke dear." + +But Mary was wrong. Her mother met her at the door, her face bright and +interested, her hands filled with some lovely flowers. + +"Mr Cheviott has been here," she said, eagerly, "and it has done your +father so much good. He stayed fully half an hour with him, and talked +so pleasantly, your father says, and he brought these flowers for you +from his sister with a note. What a pity you were out!" + +"I dare say it was quite as well," said Mary, calmly. "Papa has had him +all to himself, and he enjoys a quiet talk with one person alone just +now. I am really very glad Mr Cheviott called, as it has pleased +papa." + +And in her heart she could not deny that this was behaving with +"something like" generosity! + +Alys's note was but a few words--she was not yet allowed to write more, +she said--but few as they were, the words were full of affection and +gratitude. The London doctor had not yet been, but was expected next +week. In the mean time she had to lie perfectly still, and it _was_ +rather dull, though "poor Laurence" did his best. And she ended by +hoping that Mary would think of her while arranging the flowers. Mary +certainly did so--and with feelings of increased affection, not +unmingled however with the pain of the old vague self-reproach. + +For some days Mr Western seemed quite to have recovered his usual +strength and spirits, and Mary was glad to be able to write cheerfully +to Lilias, who had been threatening a premature return home, had the +news thence not improved. + +"Papa is better," she announced to Mrs Greville, two days after their +arrival at Hastings, when the afternoon post brought Mary's letter. + +"It seems to me," she went on, after receiving Mrs Greville's +congratulations on the good accounts,--"it seems to me that it is far +more his spirits than anything else that are affected." + +"But at his age that is not a good sign," said Mrs Greville. + +"I suppose not," said Lilias, thoughtfully. "Mary says he has begun to +think and speak so anxiously about our future in case of anything +happening to him." + +"Ah, yes," said Mr Greville, complacently, "that's the worst of a large +family." + +"The worst and the best too," said Lilias. "If papa's health did break +down he would have us all to work for him." + +Mr Greville smiled--a not unkindly but somewhat dubious smile. + +"Easier said than done, my dear girl," he said. He rather liked to +provoke Lilias into a battle of words, she grew so eager and looked so +pretty when she got excited; he would not have objected to a daughter, +or even a couple of daughters like her, though the bare thought of all +the younger Westerns in the overflowing Rectory made him shiver. + +But before Lilias had time to take up her weapons there occurred a +sudden diversion. A ring at the front door bell, which, while talking +they had not noticed, was followed by the announcement, by Mrs +Greville's maid, that a lady was asking for Miss Western. + +"A lady for Miss Western," repeated Mrs Greville. "Show her in then, +Miller, at once." + +But the lady, it appeared, declined to be "shown in." She had begged +that Miss Western would speak to her for a moment in the hall, not +feeling sure that there might not be some mistake. + +"What a queer message," said Mrs Greville. "Take care, Lilias; it is +probably some begging person." + +"No," said Lilias, with a sudden inspiration, as she turned to leave the +room, "I don't think it is. I do believe it is Mrs Brabazon." + +Her intuition was correct. Mrs Brabazon it proved to be. Mrs +Brabazon on foot, with none of the _apanage_ of the Brooke wealth about +her except her richly comfortable attire and general air of prosperity +and well-being. Only her kindly eyes had a somewhat careworn +expression, and there were lines in her face which told of past and +present anxiety. She received Lilias with cordiality almost approaching +affection. + +"I am so glad it is you," she said as she shook hands with Lilias. "I +was so afraid it might be some other Miss Western, though the name is +uncommon, not like _Weston_. Do you know what I did? Fancy anything so +stupid! I lost your address, which you remember I noted down on a bit +of paper in Dr --'s waiting-room. I could not remember the name of the +friends you were staying with, and of course hunting for you in all the +hotels in London would have been like looking for a needle in a +haystack. And I have so little time, I am always so hurried to get back +to Anselm when I am out. It was not till the day before we left town +that it occurred to me to try to trace you through Dr --, and when I +went to his house for the purpose, he was off to the country! Oh! you +don't know how vexed I was." + +"And how did you find me out here?" asked Lilias, a little bewildered by +Mrs Brabazon's unconcealed eagerness to prosecute the acquaintance so +unexpectedly begun. + +"By the local paper--the visitor's guide, or whatever they call it. Of +course I was not looking for _you_, I had no reason to suppose you were +here; but the moment I saw the name Western I felt sure it must be you, +and Anselm felt sure that Greville was the name of your friends. It +really seems quite--what people call providential, though, somehow, I +never like using the expression in that way." + +"And how is your nephew--young Mr Brooke?" said Lilias. + +Mrs Brabazon shook her head. + +"It is Basil over again--ah, it is heart-breaking work," she said, +sadly. "But I forget, I am speaking to you as if you knew all about +us." + +"Somehow I feel as if I did," said Lilias, "the familiar names--one of +my brothers is Basil, and another Anselm Brooke, but we call him Brooke +always." + +"And which is Basil?" + +"The eldest," said Lilias. "He has got a berth, as he calls it, in an +office in the city. It is a good opening, I believe, and he will +probably be sent out to India in a year or two. But in the mean time, +of course, he gets very little, and--and it keeps us very strait at +home," she added, with a smile. + +Mrs Brabazon listened with unfeigned interest. + +"I must hear all about them," she said. "But not to-day. And I am +keeping you out here in the passage all this time." + +"That is my fault," said Lilias. "Won't you come in? I _know_ Mrs +Greville would be pleased to see you." (A thoroughly true assertion, as +Mrs Greville was already on the verge of that peculiar phase of _ennui_ +so apt to seize on active practical people when away from "home" and its +duties, stranded in a strange place where they know no one, and never go +out without the consciousness of the terrible word "visitors" branded on +their foreheads.) + +"Not to-day, thank you, my dear. I _must_ run home," said Mrs +Brabazon. "But tell me what day will you spend with us? Can you come +to-morrow? We are at the --." + +Lilias might have hesitated to accept _too_ readily the invitation, +however cordial, of the rich relations who for so many long years had +ignored Margaret Western and her children; but the influence of Mary's +earnest advice was too strong upon her to make her dream of holding +back. Besides, it was impossible to look in Mrs Brabazon's face and +doubt her good intentions. + +"Thank you," the girl replied. "I should like to come very much. But I +think I must return here early, the evenings are so dull for Mr and +Mrs Greville." + +"Of course," said Mrs Brabazon. "And Anselm is always so tired in the +evening. The day-time is the best for us. I will send the carriage for +you at half-past twelve--will that do?--and it shall bring you back +again at four or five, or any time you like. Possibly Anselm may be +going a drive, and would come round this way for you. And pray +apologise to Mrs Greville for my unceremonious behaviour." + +"Thank you," said Lilias. "Yes, that will suit me perfectly. I shall +be ready at half-past twelve." + +"Good-bye, then, for the present. I shall have a great deal to talk to +you about to-morrow. I want to hear _everything_ about your brothers +and sisters and everybody," said Mrs Brabazon, as she shook hands in +farewell. + +Lilias went back to the drawing-room to tell her surprising news to her +friends. Mrs Greville was full of interest and excitement, Mr +Greville somewhat inclined to question the advisability of this sudden +friendship. + +"Have you ever heard your mother speak of this Mrs Brabazon? Are you +quite sure she is what she represents herself to be?" he said, +doubtfully. + +Lilias smiled. + +"Oh, yes," she replied. "I am quite sure of that. Mamma remembered +Mrs Brabazon by name. She was a Miss Brooke, and her father and my +grandfather were first cousins. These Brookes are the elder branch." + +"But who are they?--I mean, how many are there of them?" asked Mrs +Greville. "Why is Mrs Brabazon always with them?" + +"The mother is dead, I am sure of that," said Lilias, "and I _think_ +Mrs Brabazon has kept house for Mr Brooke since her death. It was +Mary that told us all we knew, and she heard it from some ladies she met +at your house." + +"Of course," exclaimed Mrs Greville, in a tone of relief, "the +Morpeths--you remember, Charles? Oh, yes, of course, it is all right. +Frances Morpeth was always saying how nice Mrs Brabazon was. I am sure +you are quite right to cultivate the acquaintance, Lilias. Don't you +agree with me, Mr Greville?" + +"I suppose so," said Mr Greville, lazily. "But I hope the cultivation +of it will not absorb you altogether, Lilias. It would be wretchedly +dull in these stupid lodgings without you, my dear, to argue with and +contradict, and look at." + +"You need not be afraid. I am not going to desert you," said Lilias, +laughing, as she left the room. + +"That girl really grows prettier and prettier," said Mr Greville. "She +is much more amusing, too, than her sister Mary. I fancy Mary is +something of a prig; there was no getting a smile out of her the last +time she was over with us. Lilias is brighter than ever I knew her, +full of fun and pleased with everything." + +"She is very nice," agreed Mrs Greville. "But they are both very nice. +I am not at all sure but that it is Mary who has the lion's share of +the work at home. How pleased I shall be if anything comes of these new +relations." + +"Umph," said Mr Greville. + +"Mr Brooke's carriage" came for Miss Western at half-past twelve. +Whether "Mr Brooke" referred to the young man she had already seen, or +to a father whom she had as yet heard nothing of, Lilias felt in some +doubt. But before the day was over Mrs Brabazon's extreme +communicativeness had put her in full possession of the family history +past and present, and had, besides, suggested hints which made the poor +girl giddy with surprise and bewilderment, and an utterly novel sense of +perplexity. + +"I must consult some one," she said to herself, when she got back to +Mrs Greville's lodgings. "I feel too confused and amazed to decide +what to do. I had better tell the Grevilles, they are sensible and kind +and really interested in us, and they will advise me as to whether I +should write home about what I have heard." + +So to Mrs Greville's inquiries as to how she had got on, what she had +heard, etc, etc, Lilias was very ready to give most comprehensive +answers. + +"I got on very well indeed, thank you," she said. "They were as cordial +and kind as possible. Mr Brooke, Anselm's father, is to be down here +on Friday, and Mrs Brabazon wants me to spend Saturday with them to see +him, and what's more, she made me write from the hotel to Basil, to ask +him to come to them from Saturday to Monday if he can get off, which I +am sure he can. She told me to tell him she would `frank' him both +ways. Wasn't that considerate, Mrs Greville?" + +"_Very_," replied Mrs Greville, heartily. "I am exceedingly glad to +hear it." + +"I am sure Basil will come," continued Lilias, "for I told him papa and +mamma would wish it. But, oh! Mrs Greville, you will really think I +am dreaming when I tell you what else Mrs Brabazon told me." + +She looked up in Mrs Greville's face, her blue eyes bright with +excitement, her cheeks glowing with eagerness. Even lazy Mr Greville's +curiosity was aroused. + +"Why, let us guess," he said, jokingly. "Is old Mr Brooke going to +adopt you and make you his heiress? Why, you _would_ be irresistible +then, Lilias! But, by-the-bye, he has a son and heir, so it can't be +that." + +"No," said Lilias, "not exactly. But it's something quite as wonderful. +What _do_ you think Mrs Greville--Mrs Brabazon gave me to +understand--in fact, she said so plainly--that after Anselm, Mr +Brooke's only remaining child, _mamma_ is heir to all, or, at least, to +a great part of their property." + +"Your mother!" exclaimed Mrs Greville, apparently too astonished to say +more. Mrs Western, she knew, had been a governess when her husband +fell in love with and married her, and though she had always known her +to be what is vaguely termed "well-connected," she had somehow never +associated her with possible riches or "position;" she had, on the +contrary, often annoyed the Western girls by a slight shade of patronage +in her tone of speaking of their mother, whom she looked upon as an +amiable, decidedly unsophisticated and unworldly woman--"sair hauden +doun" by the small means and large family at the Rectory. + +"Your mother!" she repeated. + +But Mr Greville's worldly wisdom prevented his losing his head at the +news. + +"_After_ Mr Brooke's son, you say," he observed. "But that makes all +the difference. Lots of people are next heir _but one_ to a fortune +without ever coming any nearer it. What's to prevent this Mr Anselm +marrying and having half a dozen sons and daughters of his own?" + +"That is the thing," said Lilias, "that--Anselm, I mean, is, of course, +what the whole depends upon. Had he been strong and well we should +probably never have heard or known of our--of mamma's position. But--it +seems so horrid to talk about it so coolly--Anselm will never grow up +and marry, Mr Greville--he is only sixteen now--for he is dying." + +"Dear me, dear me," said Mr Greville, "how very, very sad!" + +But underneath his not altogether conventional expression of sympathy, +Lilias could plainly detect the reflection--"That very decidedly alters +the state of the case." + +"Yes," she agreed, "it is terribly sad." + +"And under these circumstances--for you speak of this son as an only +child, and he has probably long been delicate," pursued Mr +Greville--"how is it, may I ask, that these Brookes have never before +looked up your mother? Their meeting with you now is purely accidental, +and more Mrs Brabazon's doing than Mr Brooke's, it seems to me." + +"She explained all that," said Lilias. "It is only very lately that +Anselm has been an only child. There was quite a large family of them, +and five, I think, lived to grow up. But one by one they have dropped +off--all died of consumption like their mother. Basil, the second son, +and apparently the strongest, lived to be six-and-twenty, and only died +last year, having caught cold at some races--regimental races, I mean; +he was in the Dragoons," her colour rising unaccountably as she +mentioned the regiment. "Before his death, Mrs Brabazon says, he was +very anxious to look us up, for he never expected that Anselm would live +long. But his father has been in such a broken-down state that Mrs +Brabazon could never get him to take any interest in the matter. _She_ +does; it is wonderful how she can do so, I think, when one remembers how +she has seen her own nephews and nieces die one by one." + +"There is no chance, I suppose, of old Mr Brooke's marrying again," +said Mr Greville, consideringly. + +"None whatever. He is nearly seventy, fifteen years older than his +sister, and thoroughly aged by trouble, she says." + +"Then the estates are entailed?" + +"Principally, not altogether. But they have never been separated, and +that was why Basil Brooke wanted his father to look us up. He was +anxious that the alienable--is that the word?--part of the property +should go with the entailed if the next heir were a desirable sort of +person. For I must explain _Basil_ is the real heir; mamma would only +have a certain life-rent, a very ample one though, she could provide for +all her other children out of it. The entail is somehow rather +peculiar. Mrs Brabazon comes in for nothing, though so much nearer +than mamma, because she has no son." + +"And has your mother no idea of all this?" inquired Mr Greville. + +"None whatever," said Lilias, decidedly. "She knew there had been an +unprecedented number of deaths among the Brookes, but she has always had +a vague idea there were scores of them left still. Then she never +associated herself, being a woman, with the possibility of succession. +There _were_ several female Brookes only a few years ago, but of the +three now left not one has a son, and they are all old, Mrs Brabazon +the youngest. Now, dear Mr Greville, the question is this--what, or +how much should I write home of all that I have heard?" + +"Why not all?" said Mrs Greville. + +"I don't know," said Lilias. "I suppose it is from a vague fear of +rousing hopes that may possibly be--no, not disappointed, there hardly +seems any chance of that--but deferred, _long_ deferred, possibly. +Anselm may live some months, but there can be no question of his +recovery. He spoke to me about it himself; he is nearly as anxious for +his father to recognise us and settle things as his brother Basil was, +Mrs Brabazon says. But Mr Brooke may live a good many years, may +quite possibly outlive papa," the girl added, with a sad little drop in +her voice. + +"It is of that I am thinking," said Mr Greville, turning to Lilias with +a kind earnestness of manner contrasting strongly with his usual easy +indifference. "By `that' I mean your father's state of health and +spirits. It seems to me it would be cruel to keep all this from him for +fear of possible delay in its coming to pass. The relief to him of +knowing you all would have something to look to in case of his death +would be great enough to be almost like a new lease of life. And +surely, if things were turning out as Mrs Brabazon says,--surely if any +such need were to arise, Mr Brooke would do something for your mother +at once." + +"I _think_ so," said Lilias. "Mrs Brabazon did not say so exactly, but +she certainly inferred it. When speaking of Basil, and hearing of his +being in an office in the City, she and Anselm looked at each other. +`That is just what we heard,' Mrs Brabazon said, and Anselm asked if he +did not dislike the life very much. I said, `No, not so very much--he +was glad to be doing anything, though his great wish _had_ been to go +into the army,' and poor Anselm said he did not see why that might not +still be arranged." + +"Curious unselfishness, surely, to take such an interest in the one who, +he believes, will eventually take his place," observed Mr Greville. + +"Yes," said Lilias, "it struck me as strangely unselfish. But Mrs +Brabazon says Anselm has never cared to live since his brother's death. +Basil was the strong one, and Anselm leaned on him for everything, he +has always been so delicate, `living with a doom over him ever since he +was born,' Mrs Brabazon called it." + +"Consumption, I suppose?" said Mr Greville. "But your mother does not +look as if she came from a consumptive family." + +"No, it is not from the Brookes, but from their mothers side that they +are consumptive," said Lilias. "The deaths among the other Brookes have +been in many cases from accidental causes." + +There fell a little pause; Lilias, eager for decision, was just about to +break it with a repeated request for advice, when Mr Greville +intercepted her intention. + +"I'll tell you what I'd do in your place, my dear," he said, suddenly. +"Write the whole to your sister Mary. She's as sensible a girl as one +often meets with, and, being on the spot, can judge as to the effect the +news is likely to have on your father." + +"Yes," said Lilias, "I think I shall. She is on the spot, as you say, +and could tell it less startlingly than I could write it. Besides," she +added, with a slight touch of filial jealousy, "she can consult +_mamma_." + +"Oh, yes, of course," said Mrs Greville, in a conventionally proper +tone. + +"And, after all," said Mr Greville, a little maliciously, "`Mamma' is +really the chief person concerned." + +He was shrewd enough to suspect that notwithstanding his wife's honest +pleasure in good fortune coming to her old friends, she would have +preferred its not coming to them through their mother, the quiet, +reserved woman whom she had somehow never been able quite to understand, +who met her good-natured patronage with an unruffled dignity which +always prevented hearty Mrs Greville from feeling quite at ease in her +presence, though mentally considering her as rather a poor creature than +otherwise. + +It was late that night, or early, rather, the next morning, before +Lilias went to bed. For, till her letter to Mary was written, she felt +she could not rest. If only she could have written one other letter +too! + +"Oh, Arthur," she said to herself, "what good fortune your love seems to +have brought us already! And should you become poor for my sake, what +happiness if it should ever be in my power to restore to you any of what +you may have sacrificed! My sisters and I would have daughters' +portions, Mrs Brabazon said; and mine could not, at the worst, but be +enough for us to live on. How strange that the Brookes should know +him!" + +For in the course of conversation that day, it had been mentioned, _a +propos_ of the Cheviotts' meeting with Mrs Brabazon in Paris, that +Arthur Beverley and Basil Brooke had been brother officers and great +friends. + +CHAPTER TWENTY SIX. + +SIR INGRAM DE ROMARY. + + "Raged the loud storm... + The lightning o'er his path + Flashed horribly--the thunder pealed--the winds + Mournfully blew; yet still his desperate course + He held; and fierce he urged his gallant steed + For many a mile. The torrent lifted high its voice." + + _Lydford Bridge_. + +Hathercourt letters _sometimes_ came of an evening. When any thoughtful +or good-natured neighbour happened to pass the Withenden post-office at +or after three o'clock in the afternoon, it was a favourite attention to +call for the Rectory letters. And sometimes it happened that the owners +of the letters were not sorry to receive them in private, for even among +the least reserved or secretive natures it is not always pleasant to +have one's affairs discussed or guessed at by half a dozen inquisitive +young people round a breakfast-table. + +Lilias had not written quite as much to Mary as usual of late, finding +it difficult to make time for more than the almost daily lengthy and +amusing letters she sent to her father. So when Mr Wills from the +Edge, who, since her residence under his roof, had taken "Miss Mary" +into special favour, called with a thick budget addressed in Lilias's +hand, Mary felt surprised as well as delighted. + +But her pleasure was somewhat tinged with alarm when she read the few +words which, at the top of the sheet, first met her glance: + +"Read this when you are alone, and likely to be uninterrupted. It is +nothing wrong. Don't be frightened." + +But frightened of course she was, and thankful to be able at once to +satisfy herself. + +"Nothing wrong!" It would have been difficult to judge from Mary's +face, when she looked up after finishing the letter, what had been the +nature of its contents. Like Lilias, her first impression was one of +such utter bewilderment that it seemed as if her brain were refusing to +take in the facts before her. She got up from her seat, pushed her hair +back from her forehead, and tried to think reasonably and rationally. +But it was difficult. + +"Can I be dreaming?" she said to herself. "Mamma heir to all the +Brookes' property! _Can_ it be true? Oh, papa, poor papa--he must be +told. Only last night again he was talking to me of his racking anxiety +about our future; it is so impressed on him that he is not going to live +long. And, as Lilias says, this news may be fresh life to him." + +She sat down again, and for some minutes allowed her fancy to run riot +in the new world so suddenly opened before her. To be rich! How +extraordinary the idea seemed to her--no more furrows on her father's +face of anxiety as to the future, no more daily worries for her mother +about butchers' and grocers' books and servants' wages and everlasting +new boots for the boys; plenty of books and music, and pretty dresses +even, which in her heart Mary was by no means given to despise, for +herself and Lilias; a first-rate governess for the girls--unlimited +power as well as will to help their poorer neighbours--a pretty and +luxurious home, something like Romary, perhaps! A flush rose to Mary's +cheek at the thought--what would the Cheviotts think of this marvellous +news? Would it increase or diminish the separation between them? Was +it possible that even yet all might come right between Lilias and Arthur +Beverley, or had Lilias quite left off caring for him? Was it--? Her +speculations were suddenly brought to a close--a tap at the door +reminded her of the present, and recalled her to the consideration of +how and when she should first break this astonishing revelation to her +parents. + +"Consult with mamma," Lilias had said. Yes, of course, that was the +first thing to be done. But to get hold of her mother alone for an +uninterrupted talk was by no means so easy as it seemed, just now +especially, since Mr Western's failing health had rendered him +_exigeant_ and capricious in a way quite foreign to his ordinary +character. + +The tap at the door was repeated. + +"Come in," cried Mary, starting up as she spoke. + +"How can I when the door is locked?" said her mother's voice. + +Mary hastened to unlock it. + +"I am so sorry for keeping you waiting," she said, penitently, as she +did so. "I had no idea it was you, mother." + +"I have been looking for you all over the house, and began to think you +must have gone out," said her mother, in a slightly aggrieved tone. "It +is nearly tea-time, and I want to hasten it, for possibly a cup of tea +may do your father good. It is about him I wanted you, Mary. He seems +to me decidedly less well this evening, and I have just been wondering +if we should not ask Dr Brandreth to come to see him to-morrow. The +postman will be here directly. What do you think?" + +"Would papa not mind?" said Mary, consideringly. + +"I don't know--that is the difficulty. He is always pleased to see Dr +Brandreth, and often enjoys a talk with him; but whenever I have +proposed it lately, he has begun worrying about the expense. Dr +Brandreth is very kind--to do any good to your father I know he would +gladly come for nothing at all; but your father would not have that. He +has always paid our doctor's charges to the full, and would be miserable +not to do so. But it _can't_ be helped; we are certainly unusually +short of money just now, but where your father is concerned, Mary dear, +I seem to grow reckless." + +Mary had drawn her mother within the threshold of her room. They stood +talking near the door-way in low tones. + +"If _that_ is the only hesitation," the girl replied, eagerly, with a +suppressed excitement in her voice which, had she been a whit less +preoccupied, her mother could not but have noticed, "if that is the only +difficulty, oh! mother dear, don't hesitate an instant." + +Mrs Western sighed. Her heart only too thoroughly agreed with Mary, +but, alas! to her life experience of poverty it seemed no longer +unendurable and inconceivable, no longer anything but sadly inevitable +that, even in such a matter as a question of health or sickness, +possibly even of life or death, considerations of pounds, shillings, and +pence should force themselves to the front. She only sighed and +hesitated. + +"Mother dear," persisted Mary, "let me write to Dr Brandreth at once. +I _know_ it is right. And oh, mother, I have such wonderful news to +tell you. I have a letter from Lilias--it was to read it quietly I had +locked myself into my room. Mother I don't know how to tell you what +she has written about." + +Mrs Western's mind was still running on the fors and againsts of +sending for Dr Brandreth. She hardly took in the sense of Mary's +words. + +"A letter from Lilias!" she repeated. "Poor Lily, I am glad she is +enjoying herself. But, Mary, if you really think we should send for Dr +Brandreth, there is no time to lose. Josey called out as I came +up-stairs that she heard Jacob's `make-ready' whistle at the end of the +lane, and when he whistles so far off it's always a sign that he is in a +hurry." + +"Then he must just not be in a hurry," said Mary; "but all the same, +mother, I'll write the note at once. And, in the mean time, can't you +try to guess what Lilias's letter is about?" + +"It surely isn't that she has met Captain Beverley again," said Mrs +Western, anxiously, "or _surely_ not that any one else has taken a fancy +to her? I never thought Lilias anything of a flirt, but--" + +"Oh, no, mother dear, it is _nothing_ of that sort," said Mary, as she +ran down-stairs before her mother. "Don't make yourself uneasy. I will +tell you all as soon as I have sent off the note to Dr Brandreth." + +"We must have tea as soon as possible," replied her mother. "I will be +getting it ready, Mary, and when you have sent the note, go into your +father's study and try to get him to come into the dining-room. It will +be better for him than sitting alone in the study when he is feeling +ill." + +"Very well," said Mary. She could not bring herself to share her +mother's apprehensions, she was in a state of such excitement that the +whole world seemed to have changed to her. Her father could not but get +better and stronger now; mental anxiety, she felt certain, had far more +to do with his failing health than any one imagined. + +Still when the note--less urgently worded, it must be owned, than had it +been written to her mother's dictation--was dispatched, and she went to +the study to seek her father, she felt a little startled. He was +sitting in his chair by the fire, half dozing, it seemed to Mary, but +when he looked up in answer to her greeting, she saw that his face +looked changed somehow, its expression told of pain and oppression +greater than he had yet endured. + +"Is your head so bad, dear father?" she said, anxiously. + +"Very, very bad indeed. I feel perfectly stupid with that sense of +oppression, and my sight is so strangely hazy. I could not conceal it +from your mother," he went on, half apologetically, "though you know, my +dear, how I always shrink from making her uneasy." + +"Yes," said Mary, half absently, "I know. Will you come into the +dining-room to tea, papa? Mamma sent me to fetch you." + +"Very well. If she wishes it, though I feel as if I would rather stay +here. I hope the children will be quiet, poor things. I can't stand +any noise or excitement to-night." + +Mary looked at him as he spoke, and dismissed the half-formed idea-- +that, since she had been alone with her father, had seized her with +sudden temptation--of telling him the contents of the letter in her +pocket, now, at once. She saw he spoke the truth. He was unfit to bear +any great excitement. + +Tea passed over with unwonted quiet. The "children" were impressed by +their father's weary looks, and conversation was carried on in unusually +amicable whispers. After tea Mr Western went back to his study, and +Mary at last succeeded in getting her mother to herself. + +"For a quarter of an hour only, dear," said Mrs Western. "Then I must +take my work into the study and sit with your father. And I want to +persuade him to go early to bed." + +"It is barely seven yet, mother," said Mary. "Now listen--first of all, +do you remember Lilias writing--of course you do--about having met a +cousin of yours, a Mrs Brabazon, in town?" + +"At the doctor's, wasn't it? Waiting for Mr Greville at the doctor's, +and your father was so pleased at it, and thought something might come +of it--of course, I remember," replied Mrs Western, growing interested. +"Well, Mary?" + +"Well, mother," continued Mary, "Lilias's letter is all about these +relations of yours. She has met them again, they are at Hastings just +now, and she has been to spend a day with them. And, mother," she +proceeded cautiously, "it does indeed seem as if something were going to +come of it. Do you happen to know, did you ever hear how the Brooke +property is left--entailed, I suppose I should say?" + +"In the usual way, entailed on to the eldest son. I have always known +that," said Mrs Western, in some surprise. + +"But _failing_ an eldest son, mother, failing any direct male heir at +all, do you--?" + +Her question was never completed. At that moment a bell rang sharply +and violently through the house. Mary and her mother stared at each +other for a moment in silence. Bells were at no time in great request +at the Rectory, and the sound of the special bell now heard seemed +strange and unfamiliar. + +"What can that be?" said Mary. "Some trick of the children's I am +afraid. Wait here, mother; I'll go and see." + +She ran to the door, but before she had more than opened it her mother +had overtaken her. + +"Let me pass," she whispered, in a hoarse, breathless voice--"let me go +first, Mary. I know what it is. It is the study bell. Mary, your +father--" + +They rushed across the hall and down the study passage together. Which +first reached the door Mary never knew. But between them it was thrown +open and--ah, yes!--Mrs Western's instinct was correct; the blow that +for so long had threatened them had fallen at last--the Rector lay +unconscious on the floor, and at the first glance Mary thought her +mother was right when in agony she wailed out--"He is dead! Oh, Mary, +he is dead!" + +But he was not dead. They did what in their ignorance they could, poor +things! and then, a quarter of an hour or so after the first alarm, Mary +came rushing into the school-room, where the frightened children were +all collected together. + +"George, where is George?" she said. "He must go, or find some one to +go, for the doctor. Simmons is out--it is always the way. But where +_is_ George? Can none of you tell me?" + +"Oh, Mary, I am so sorry," said poor Alexa. "I am afraid George has +gone to bed. Have you forgotten about his sore knee? I don't think he +_could_ go for the doctor. Couldn't Josey and I go? Oh, dear! what +shall we do?" + +Mary for an instant wrung her hands in perplexity. It all came back to +her memory about George's having hurt his knee by a fall from a tree the +day before, hurt it badly too. What was to be done? The nearest +possibility of a man and horse was a mile off, and even then _only_ a +possibility, hardly worth wasting precious time on the chance of. +Simmons, their own factotum, was out for the evening--what was to be +done? Mary's quick mind glanced it all over and decided. + +"Get my cloak and hat, quick, Josey--any of you," she said. "I know +what I'll do. I'll run myself to the Edge and get Wills to go. He has +a good horse, and has often had to bring Dr Brandreth when Al--Miss +Cheviott was there. Yes, that will be best, better than running a mile +the other way on the mere chance of Giles Swanwick being able to go." + +She was off before any one could stop her. But indeed it was the best +thing to do. It was terrible to have to leave her mother alone with the +silent, already in a strange sense, _unfamiliar_ figure that Mary found +it hard to believe could be "papa," but what might not delay or a +bungled message result in? She only glanced in again to impress upon +Martha, a fairly intelligent woman of her class, on no account to leave +her mistress alone; if anything were wanted to call to Miss Alexa, or +Miss Josephine, who would remain within ear-shot. + +At the front door Mary was stopped by Alexa, trembling and pale with +repressed anxiety, yet, Mary was glad to see, crying but little. + +"Tell me, Mary, dear Mary--forgive me for stopping you," she said, +breathlessly, "but do tell me, do you _think_ he is going to die?" + +"I don't know--oh! Alexa, how can I tell?" said Mary. "Let me go, +dear, and try all of you to be good. That's the only thing you can do +just now." + +"I will, indeed I will," said Alexa, bravely, "and, Mary, you shall see +a difference in me from this time, see if you don't." + +Mary kissed her and hurried out. + +"Perhaps there is really more strength and sense in Alexa than we have +given her credit for," she said to herself. It was a very tiny drop of +comfort, still there was _some_ in her young sister's sympathy and +evident desire to be of use. "For," thought Mary, "it is impossible not +to recall all dear papa's forebodings--he has spoken so much of them +lately, as to what would become of them all, and Alexa and Josey seemed +as much on his mind as any--in case--" + +She stopped suddenly as there flashed across her mind the recollection +of Lilias's letter, which by some strange brain freak the new excitement +of the last half hour had completely banished from her memory. Could it +still be true--this wonderful news which so short a time ago had seemed +to illumine the dark future so brilliantly and scatter every cloud? +_Could_ it be true? + +"And what if it be?" thought Mary, recklessly, a sob rising in her +throat. "What shall we care for money or comfort without _him_! What a +mockery it seems coming _now_ when the greatest sorrow of our lives is +upon us! What madness it seems ever to have murmured at our small means +or privations or difficulties or anything while we were all together and +well! Oh, to think that only the last time I walked down this lane I +was grumbling to myself at the home worries and the children's +troublesomeness and the monotonous commonplaceness of my life! If only +we were back to all that--if only--would I _ever_ grumble again?" + +The tears _would_ come. Mary ran faster in hopes of driving them away +and preserving the self-possession which she felt she dare not lose, and +another ten minutes brought her to the Edge. She knew the ins and outs +of the place so well that without knocking she quickly found her way +into the kitchen, where Mrs Wills was busy ironing. The familiar +kitchen--how little she had thought the last time she saw it, on what an +errand she would next be there! + +This errand was soon told, and Mrs Wills was full of sympathy. But +sympathy, alas! was all she had to give, and Mary was in sore need of +something more. It was terribly disappointing to find that Wills +himself was not at home, nor likely to be for some hours to come. On +his return from Withenden he had ridden on to Bewley, a village some +miles the other way, about a horse buying or selling, or some business +of the kind, which, rendered diffusive by her excitement, Mrs Wills +would have given Mary the whole details of, had not the girl cut her +short with an anguished exclamation: + +"What am I to do? What _can_ I do?" she cried. "They are all depending +on me to find some way--mamma and all--and even now he may be dying. +Oh, Mrs Wills!" + +Mrs Wills wiped away her tears with one corner of her apron, while she +stopped to consider. + +"There's neither man nor boy about this blessed place to-night, as ill +luck would have it," she said. "I would offer to run myself, and +gladly, but I'm not as quick as when I was younger, Miss Mary. But +stay--there's farmer Bartlemoor's not more than a mile and a quarter +away, where there's sure to be one of the sons at home and plenty of +horses. To be sure it's not exactly on the way to Withenden, but not so +far about neither. Do you know it, miss?--Bartle's farm, I mean? +Bartles we calls them mostly for shorter." + +"No," said Mary, "I don't. But tell me and I am sure I can find it." + +Mrs Wills's description recalled the place to Mary's recollection. The +Bartlemoors were not her father's parishioners, but she remembered +noticing the house, a rather picturesque old-fashioned one, in some of +the long summer rambles the Rectory children were so fond of. + +It was not yet quite dark when again she set out. But had it been the +blackest of midnights, little, save for the increased difficulty and +delay, would Mary have cared. She hurried on, trying hard not to think, +nor to distract herself by picturing what might at that moment be +happening at the Rectory. It seemed to her that she had implicitly +followed Mrs Wills's directions, yet the landmarks she was on the +look-out for were strangely long of coming. It was all but dark now-- +the road, hardly indeed worthy of the name, along which she was +hastening was perfectly bare of any sign of human habitation; she had +met no one since she left the Edge, not a single belated market-cart +even had passed her, and now, as Mary stood still in despair, she +noticed that the clouds, which all the evening had been gathering +ominously together, had joined their phalanxes--there was no longer a +break in the sky--the rain began slowly but steadily, in five minutes it +was a perfect pour. + +Mechanically almost, poor Mary crept under a tree and stood still to +think what she should do. Where indeed was the use of hurrying on, when +every step, for all she knew, might but be taking her further and +further in the wrong direction? It was too evident she had lost her +way. What she would have done she often afterwards asked herself, if, +at that moment, the sound of wheels approaching rapidly in her direction +had not caught her ears. _Too_ rapidly indeed was her next fear--how, +amidst the pouring rain and the darkness, could she attract the driver's +attention? She ran forward--yes, to her delight the vehicle, whatever +it was, had lamps! Could it possibly, by any blessed chance, be Dr +Brandreth himself returning from a country round? Anyway, whoever and +whatever it was, she must do her utmost to attract attention. And as +Mary said this to herself there flashed across her memory a gruesome +legend of the neighbourhood, which many a night, when a child, had made +her put her fingers in her ears for terror of what she might hear--a +legend of a certain Sir Ingram de Romary who, maddened by wine and some +wild quarrel, had driven himself and his horse to destruction over the +Chaldron water-fall, a mile or more the other side of Hathercourt. All +the way from Romary Dene, an old ruin now long given up to the owls and +bats, the mad race had been run, and still on wild, dark, stormy nights +"folks said 'twas to be heard again." + +Mary, standing in the road, shivered as the story rushed through her +brain--shivered with strange nervous terror, for which, at the same +moment, she vigorously despised herself. + +"Papa dying," she said to herself, "and I to be frightened of a +ridiculous ghost story! What can I be made of? Have I no heart?" + +Afterwards she did herself more justice. A strong excitement may, +indeed, override every other sensation, but it may also, by some +slightest variation, kindle every perception, every nerve, every feeler, +so to speak, of our Briareus-like imagination into abnormal acuteness. +Who cannot but recall with astonishing minuteness the trifling outside +details of any scene morbidly impressed on our memory--the pattern on +the walls above the bed where our best beloved lay dying, the details of +the dress of the indifferent messenger who brought us that news we can +never forget? Who cannot but remember the wild, even ludicrous, +vagaries that flashed through our fancy at some "supreme moment" of our +lives? + +But, shiver as she might, Mary had already committed herself to action. +She stood some little way forward on the road, and, as the gig, +dog-cart, whatever it was, came within hail, she called out as loudly as +she could the first thing that came into her head to say: + +"Is that you, Dr Brandreth?" + +She could not at first have been heard. There was no visible abatement +of the driver's speed. Again, and yet again, Mary repeated her cry, but +apparently with no effect. On flew the wheels, down poured the rain. +Mary was obliged, to save herself the risk of being knocked down as it +passed her, to draw back a little. + +"It surely must be Sir Ingram, after all," she said to herself, but with +no terror this time, with rather a wild, incomprehensible desire to +laugh. But as the vehicle actually drew near her, as the lamps flashed +into her face, common sense and self-possession returned. + +"Oh, stop--stop!" she cried, "for mercy's sake, whoever you are, stop!" + +This last appeal, though she knew it not, was unneeded. Already the +pace had been slackening, but it was not so easy, as might appear, +suddenly to pull up a powerful, fast-trotting horse instinctively +sharing its master's desire to get home and out of the storm of rain as +fast as possible. But two or three yards beyond the spot where Mary +stood it was achieved. There were two men on the dog-cart, one driving, +the other sitting behind. Almost before the horse stopped, the latter +jumped down and was at its head. + +"What can it be?" said the driver, as the man ran past him. "Yes, stay +you by Madge, Andrew, or we shall have her getting excited. I'll get +down." + +Andrew, to tell the truth, was by no means averse to do as he was told. +Madge's kicks and plunges impressed him infinitely less than a +hand-to-hand or face-to-face encounter with a ghost, or, failing a +ghost, a lunatic escaped from the county asylum, which was the next idea +presented to his bucolic brain. And, to do him justice, Mary might +reasonably enough have been mistaken for the latter, if not for the +former, as she stood in the pouring rain, umbrellaless, hatless even, at +first sight; for, habitually careful, she had, when the rain first came +on, half unconsciously drawn over her head the hood of the large +waterproof cloak with which, most fortunately, she had enveloped herself +for her run to the Edge. And from under this curious head-dress gleamed +out her white face and brown eyes, unnaturally bright with anxiety and +excitement, looking almost black in the flashing light of the lamps-- +different, how different, from the sunny hazel eyes that had looked up +in Mr Cheviott's face, half shyly, but all frankly, that Sunday morning +in the old church porch! + +They looked up now with a wild yet most piteous beseeching in their +gaze. There was no need for Madge's master to get down from his seat to +question this strange suppliant. Before he could move she had run up to +the side of the wheel, and before he could speak she had, so far, told +her story: + +"I have lost my way," she said, "and, oh! I shall be so grateful if you +can help me. Can you tell me if I am anywhere near Farmer Bartlemoor's? +You must forgive my stopping you. I did not know _what_ to do." + +And for all answer, the man she was addressing sprang down at one bound +to her side, exclaiming: + +"Mary! You here? You poor child, what is--what can be the matter?" + +CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN. + +AN ACT OF COMMON HUMANITY. + + "... And now thy pardon, friend, + For thou hast ever answered courteously, + And wholly bold thou art, and meek withal + As any of Arthur's best + ... I marvel what thou art." + + "Damsel," he said, "ye be not all to blame, + ... Ye said your say; + Mine answer was my deed. Good sooth! I hold + He scarce is knight, yea but half man ... + ... He, who lets + His heart be stirred with any foolish heat + At any gentle damsel's waywardness." + + _Gareth and Lynette_. + +Her eyes gleamed up into his face. But for a moment or two she did not +speak. The inclination was so desperately strong upon her to burst into +tears that she felt if she attempted to answer him, if she even moved +her gaze or allowed a muscle of her face to quiver, it would have been +all over with her self-control. He, on his side, stood watching her +closely; he did not like the strained, unnatural expression, and thought +for a moment that when it relaxed it would be into something worse--he +thought she was going to faint, and half stretched out his arms as if to +catch her. Mary saw the action, and it restored her self-possession. + +"I _won't_ be a fool," she murmured to herself, "wasting all this +precious time with my nonsense," though in reality barely three minutes +had passed since the sound of the wheels had first reached her. + +Then she gave herself a sort of little admonitory shake, and, turning +again to Mr Cheviott, spoke in a more natural, but yet evidently +excited tone. + +"I will explain it all," she said, and so she did. Her father's +symptoms of increasing weakness and the note to Dr Brandreth, then the +sudden seizure and the difficulty of obtaining a messenger, ending with +her own failure at the Edge and Mrs Wills's suggestion. + +"And now," she said, "if only you can tell me where I am, or if your man +knows Farmer Bartlemoor's, it will be all right, and I shall be so very +grateful to you." + +But to her surprise Mr Cheviott did not at once reply, nor did he turn +to "Andrew" for information. Instead of this, he took out his watch, +and, examining it by the light of the lamp, murmured something to +himself. + +"Five miles--twenty minutes," he said, "yes, that would be far the +quickest." + +Then he turned to Mary. + +"Miss Western," he said, gravely, "you are getting as wet as you +possibly can. I must drive you to some shelter. Shall I take you back +to the Edge, or home?" + +"Oh, no, no!" cried Mary. "_Don't_ mind me. I entreat you not to mind +me. If you have time to drive anywhere, if I dare ask you such an +unheard-of thing, drive me to the nearest point to Dr Brandreth's. I +feel as if I could not go to the Bartlemoors, they don't know me, and my +head is growing so confused I am not sure that I should know what to say +when I got there." + +He had half expected this--it hardly seemed possible to oppose her--and +the risk to herself, if greater in one way seemed less in another. + +"Well, then," he said, "will you do exactly as I tell you?" + +"Yes," she replied, meekly, "exactly." + +"Your cloak is waterproof, I see," he continued, "is your dress dry +underneath it?" + +"Quite," she answered, "and my boots are thick, and it has not been +raining long." + +Mr Cheviott turned to the carriage, from which he extracted a large, +soft, woolly rug. + +"Loosen your cloak for a moment," he said, "and put this thing on under +it, then your cloak again. Now can you climb up to the front beside me? +I am driving." Mary managed it, almost without assistance, and Mr +Cheviott followed her. But, just as the groom was about to leave the +horse's head, a sudden giddiness came over her, and she swayed forward +for a second. Mr Cheviott caught her with his left arm, and called to +the man to stay where he was for a moment. + +"Miss Western," he said, in a low voice, "you are perfectly exhausted. +It is not right of me to let you go farther." + +She placed both hands on his arm. + +"Oh, yes, yes," she pleaded. "Anything rather than losing more time by +taking me home first. It was only for a moment--I am better now." + +"Andrew," called out Mr Cheviott, "where is my flask?" + +"In the left-hand inside pocket, sir," was the reply, "the pocket of +your light top-coat, sir--not of the ulster." In a moment the flask was +forthcoming, a small quantity poured into the silver cup and held to +Mary's lips. + +"No, thank you," she said, calmly. "I never take wine." + +Mr Cheviott felt almost inclined to laugh. + +"It is not wine, as it happens," he replied. "It is brandy and water. +But, if it were wine, it wouldn't matter. You promised to do as you +were told." + +"Brandy," repeated Mary, "I _cannot_ take that. It will go to my head." + +"It will not," said Mr Cheviott. "Now, Miss Western, don't be silly. +Drink it." + +She did so. + +"Was there ever such a girl before?" said Mr Cheviott, speaking audibly +enough though as if to himself. "Such a mixture of strength and +childishness, common sense and uncommon fancifulness! Oh, Miss +Western?" Mary, in turn, could hardly help laughing. + +"Now," he went on, "if you feel giddy you very likely will when we +start--don't say it's the brandy. I cannot keep my arm round you," Mary +started up indignantly, she had forgotten that all this time, through +the episode of the flask and all, the arm had been there,--"I cannot +keep my arm round you," he continued, coolly, though perfectly aware of +the start, "because I am going to drive. I cannot trust my man to drive +this mare, and I cannot let you sit behind with him. So promise me, if +you feel giddy, to take hold of my arm for yourself. It will not +interfere with my driving, and a very light hold will keep you firm." + +"Very well," said Mary, meekly enough to outward hearing, though, in her +heart, a vow was registered that, short of feeling herself falling +bodily out of the carriage, nothing should induce her to resort to such +assistance. + +"I shall drive slowly, at first," said Mr Cheviott, "as the mare is +already a little excited. But it will not really lose any time to speak +of. I was driving foolishly fast when I met you, but then I had only my +own neck to think of." + +"And Andrew's," suggested Mary. + +"And Andrew's," he repeated. "But Andrew is experienced in the art of +taking care of his neck. I never saw any one with a greater knack of +keeping out of damage than he has." + +Was he talking for talking's sake, or with the intention of setting her +at her ease by showing her how completely so he was himself? Mary felt +a little puzzled. Thoroughly at ease he certainly was, and, more than +this, he seemed to her to be in remarkably good spirits, yet his next +observation showed her how far from indifferent he was feeling to the +anxiety that she was suffering. + +"I fancy we shall just catch Brandreth," he said, "and you will find no +time has been lost. This is his whist club night, and it was to be at +old Admiral Maxton's. They break up at nine, I know--the Admiral is so +very old--so the doctor will be just about getting home." + +"Are you going to take me all the way to Withenden?" said Mary, half +timidly. + +"_Certainly_," replied Mr Cheviott, decidedly. "Now, Andrew, let her +go. All right." + +But just at first it seemed to Mary more like "all wrong." With a +plunge and a dash that nearly took her breath away, the impatient animal +darted forward. How Andrew managed to scramble into his seat was a +mystery to Mary. It was all she could do to keep hers; the same giddy +feeling came over her, her head reeled, and, with a vague remembrance of +Mr Cheviott's injunction, she caught hold of his arm to steady herself. +He was prepared for the movement, and by no means discomposed by it. +In a minute or two the mare settled down into a steady pace, and Mary's +head grew steady. + +She quietly withdrew her hand. + +"I beg your pardon," she said, somewhat stiffly. + +"Not at all," replied Mr Cheviott, "it's what I told you to do. But +don't be frightened of Madge--it's only a little show-off; we quite +understand each other." + +"Thank you," said Mary, imagining a patronising shade in his tone. "I +was not the least frightened; I am not nervous." + +"No, you are not, but you are _human_, Miss Western, and what you have +gone through to-night has been enough to try any one's nerves," said Mr +Cheviott, gravely. + +Mary did not reply, though she felt herself ungracious for not doing so. +In a minute he went on again. + +"I have been thinking," he said, "of what you told me about your father. +Of course I am no doctor, but I believe I can give you a little +comfort. This sort of seizure is not so alarming when it comes on, as +in his case, gradually; it is not like a man in too good health--a great +full-blooded fellow like Squire Cleave, for instance--do you know him?-- +being struck down suddenly. Your father, as a rule, is so equable, is +he not? and lives so quietly and regularly. I _fancy_ he will get over +it, and be much the same as usual again. Of course it is serious, but I +have a friend at this moment who had an attack of this kind ten years +ago, and is now fairly well and able to enjoy life; of course he is +obliged to be careful." + +What a load was lifted from Mary's heart! To be allowed to _hope_--what +a relief! The tears rushed to her eyes, they were in her voice as she +replied: + +"Oh, how good you are! Thank you, thank you for telling me that," and +in _his_ turn Mr Cheviott made no reply. + +"Freedom from anxiety, from daily worry--he has had too much of that-- +would be greatly in his favour, would it not?" Mary added, after a +little pause. + +"Undoubtedly, I should say," said Mr Cheviott, recalling as he spoke +the careworn expression of the Rector's face as he had last seen him. +"Peculiarly so in his case, I should say. He is a very sensitive man, +is he not?" + +"Very," said Mary, "but not in the sense of being irritable. He is very +sweet-tempered. Poor father," she went on, with a sudden burst of +confidence which amazed herself, "he has had far too much anxiety; but +if only he gets well, I think and believe that that can be, is going to +be, cured." + +"What can she mean?" thought Mr Cheviott, one or two possible solutions +of her words darting through his mind. But what she did not tell he of +course could not ask, only just then a sudden and unnecessary touch of +the whip made Madge start again. + +They were close to Withenden by now. Dr Brandreth's house stood a +little out of the town on the side by which they were entering it. Mr +Cheviott drew up. + +"Suppose we wait here," he said. "Andrew can be thoroughly trusted to +deliver exactly any message you give him, and it might be--perhaps you +would not care about clambering up and down again from that high seat?" + +Mary's cheeks grew hot, dark as it was. She did not know whether to be +angry or grateful, whether indignantly to declare her indifference to +Withenden gossip or to choose, as her conductor evidently wished to +suggest, "discretion as the better part of valour." A moment's +reflection decided her that, considering all he had done and was doing, +she had no right to reject the suggestion. + +"Thank you," she said, and, turning to the groom, gave a distinct +message, short and to the point. "My letter will be at Dr Brandreth's +before now," she added to Mr Cheviott, "and that will explain a little. +It was asking him to come early to-morrow." + +"That message is all you have to give," said Andrew's master as the man +was hastening off. "You need not say who brought it, or anything." + +"But, Mr Cheviott," said Mary, half timidly, half indignantly, "I would +not mind all Withenden knowing I had brought it. And--and your driving +me here was really an act of pure humanity; no one could say I had done +anything in the least not--not nice." + +Her voice quivered a little. + +"Certainly not. But don't you think sometimes--we must take the world +as we find it, you know--sometimes it is just as well to give `no one' +the power to say good, bad, or indifferent about what we do?" said Mr +Cheviott, very gently. + +"Perhaps," said Mary, more humbly than was usual with her. Then she +added, "It was not nice of me to say that--about your kindness being an +act of pure humanity. I didn't mean--I only meant--I don't know what I +meant, but I am very, very much obliged to you." + +"But you have no reason to be. It was, as you said, just an act of +common humanity," said Mr Cheviott, with slight bitterness. + +"`Pure,' I said, not `common'," corrected Mary. + +"Well, it's all the same. How can I think you will consider it even an +act of friendliness? You won't have us for your friends. And even if I +were ten times the unmitigated ruffian you believe me to be," he added, +with a slight laugh, "would it not be an immense pleasure to me to +return in the slightest degree your goodness to Alys? You do believe I +care for her, I think? I am grateful, most grateful, to you and to the +dark night, and to the chance that made me choose that way home, for +making it possible for me to be of the least service to you." + +"Mr Cheviott," said Mary, impulsively, "whatever you are, you have +behaved most generously to _me_. It was very good of you to come to +papa--after--after all I said." + +"Thank you," he said in a low voice. + +"I wish," she added, as if speaking to herself, "I _wish_ I could +understand you. I hate to do any one injustice." + +"And what if you found that you had done such to me?" he asked, eagerly. + +"_Of course_ I would own myself in the wrong, if I saw that I had been," +she replied, proudly, and Mr Cheviott could _feel_ that her head was +thrown back with the gesture peculiar to her at times. + +"And then?" + +"You would--you would forgive me, I suppose," she said, lightly, but +with a slight nervousness in her voice. Mr Cheviott was silent. Mary +seemed impelled to go on speaking. "On the whole," she said, "I think I +shall register your kindness to-night as an act of great generosity. +Will that do better?" + +"As you please," Mr Cheviott replied, dryly, but, it seemed to Mary, +sadly too. And she was right. + +"How _can_ she ever see that she did me injustice?" he was saying to +himself. "I can never explain things--it is madness to imagine I can +ever be cleared." + +Andrew's report was most satisfactory. Dr Brandreth had just come in +and would start at once. The order for his dog-cart had been sent out +while the man stood at the door. + +"Then," said Mr Cheviott, "the faster we get back to Hathercourt the +better. You would like to be there before Brandreth arrives?" + +"Very much," said Mary. + +"Will not your mother have been very uneasy about you?" he added. + +"I hope not. I _think_ not," said Mary, anxiously. "She may have been +too absorbed about papa to think of me. And she knows the difficulty. +Very likely she thought I was waiting at the Edge till Wills came back +again. But, Mr Cheviott, you are not meaning to take me home all the +way?" + +"What else, what less could I possibly do?" he replied, bluntly. + +"Will not your sister be dreadfully uneasy at your being so late?" she +asked. + +"No, she does not expect me to-night at all--at least, I left it +uncertain," Mr Cheviott replied. "I have been hunting over near +Farkingham to-day. It is nearly the last meet of the season, and Alys +begged me not to miss it. Then I dined at Cleavelands, half intending +to sleep there. But I found there was going to be a dance after dinner, +and--somehow I don't care for that sort of thing, especially without +Alys. So I came away." + +No one certainly could have to-night accused Mr Cheviott of stiffness +or uncommunicativeness. + +"How is Alys?" asked Mary. + +"Better, on the whole, better, but it is slow work," said Mr Cheviott, +with a little sigh. A sigh partly of brotherly anxiety, partly of +regret for the additional complications this accident of his sister's +had brought into his own and others' lives. "It may be years before she +is thoroughly well again," he added, and Mary, feeling that there was +little she could say in the way of comfort, was silent. + +"Can your horse take you all the way home again to-night?" she said, +presently. + +"I think so. If not, I dare say I can put up for the night at +Beverley's farm," he said, carelessly, adding, with a slight change of +tone, "our old quarters." + +The allusion, somehow, made Mary feel nervous again. In her eagerness +to change the subject she flung herself off Scylla into Charybdis--in +homelier terms, "out of the frying-pan into the fire." + +"Do you know what came into my head when I first saw you driving so fast +up that lane?" she said with a slight laugh. + +"No," he replied. "You did not know who it was. I think you first +fancied I was Dr Brandreth, did you not?" + +"I thought it just possible. But that is not what I meant. I could not +help having a foolish wild sort of fancy that perhaps you were Sir +Ingram de Romary--you know the story?" + +"The fellow that pitched himself over the Chaldron Falls," said Mr +Cheviott. "Yes, I remember. Your fancies about me are the reverse of +complimentary, do you know, Miss Western? The last time you had any +such, if I remember right, you took me for the ghost of that other still +more disreputable Romary, the fellow that forced an unfortunate `heathen +Chinee' girl to marry him, and then abused her so that she threw herself +out of the window of the haunted room." + +"Mr Cheviott!" said Mary, reproachfully, her cheeks glowing at the +remembrance of that day. + +And Mr Cheviott was merciful enough to say no more. + +They drove back to Hathercourt very fast. So fast that when they drew +up at the Rectory gates there was as yet no sound of Dr Brandreth's +wheels in the distance. + +"Will you let me get down here, please?" said Mary. "I don't want to +make them think it is the doctor, as they would only feel disappointed." + +Mr Cheviott got down and helped Mary out of the carriage. + +"Would you mind _my_ waiting here an instant?" he said with some +hesitation. "Dr Brandreth cannot be here for five or ten minutes yet, +and I should be so glad to hear how your father is, and if I can be of +any more use." + +"I will run back and tell you--in a moment," said Mary. + +There was no need for her to ring or knock at the hall door. It was on +the latch as she had left it, and in a moment, at the sound of her +opening it, Alexa, George, and Josey appeared. + +"Oh! Mary, we have been so frightened about you," they began. + +"But first tell me how papa is," she interrupted. + +"Better, a little better. He opened his eyes and smiled at mamma, and +now he seems to be sleeping, really sleeping, not in that dreadful sort +of way," said Alexa. + +Mary gave a sigh of thankfulness. + +"Run in and tell mamma Dr Brandreth will be here in five minutes. Has +she been very frightened about me?" + +"No, dear, we wouldn't let her," said Alexa, re-assuringly. "We told +her you might have to wait at the Edge till Wills came back, it was +raining so." + +"That was _very_ good and sensible of you," said Mary, at which +commendation poor Alexa's white face grew rosy with pleasure. + +"But aren't you coming in to mamma, Mary?" she said, seeing that her +sister, after disentangling herself from a mysterious fluffy shawl in +which she was wrapped, was turning away to the door. + +"Immediately," said Mary. "I am only running back to the gate with this +rug, to return it to the--the person that lent it me, and who drove me +to Withenden." + +"All the way? How very good-natured! What a way you have been! And +what a lovely rug. Is that Mrs Wills's? Surely not," they all said at +once. But Mary wisely paid no heed, she ran to the gate and back again +almost before she was missed. + +"This is your rug, Mr Cheviott," she said, breathlessly, "and thank you +for it so much, and thank you for everything. And papa is already a +very little better, they think." + +"I am so glad," he said, cordially. "But, Miss Western, how exceedingly +foolish of you to have taken off the rug and run out again into the cold +without it!" + +Mary laughed. + +"I am very hardy," she said, as she ran off again. "Good-night, and +thank you again." + +But Mr Cheviott stopped her for an instant. + +"Is there nothing I can do to help you?" he asked. + +"Nothing--nothing _more_, I should say," she replied. + +"And--Miss Western, you are not going to sit up all night," he went +on--"promise me you will not; you are not fit for it, and that is not +the way to prepare yourself for, perhaps, weeks of nursing." + +"I am truly _quite_ rested and fresh," she said. "It is very kind of +you to think of it. I shall not do anything foolish. Good-night +again." + +He did not and had not attempted to shake hands, nor had Mary offered to +do so. + +"He refused my hand the last time I offered it," she said to herself. +"But on the whole, perhaps, what wonder?" + +Dr Brandreth, approaching Hathercourt some ten minutes later, was +surprised to meet a dog-cart driving off in an opposite direction. But +it passed too quickly for even his quick eyes to identify it. + +"Whose trap can that be?" he said to his boy. + +"Dunno, sir. Not so very onlike the Romary dog-cart neither," was the +reply. + +"Impossible!" said the doctor. And in his own mind he wondered why Mary +Western had not prosecuted the acquaintanceship with the Cheviotts, so +strangely begun. + +"It would be a good thing for those girls to make some friends for +themselves," he thought to himself. "Nice as they are, I don't +altogether understand them; they don't give themselves airs--the very +reverse, yet for all that I suspect they are too proud for their own +advantage. And if poor Western is really breaking up, goodness only +knows what is to become of them!" + +Early, very early the next morning, Mr Cheviott's groom made his +appearance at the Rectory to make inquiry, with his master's +compliments, for Mr Western. At the door he was met by "the young lady +herself," coming out for the refreshment of a breath of the sweet spring +air, all the sweeter for the last night's heavy rains. + +"And she told me to tell you, sir, with Mrs Western's compliments, as +how the Rector was better than might have been expected, and as how the +doctor gives good hopes." + +So "Sir Ingram de Romary" drove home again, and sympathising Alys heard +with eager interest of her friend's new troubles, and longed more than +ever to see Mary Western again. + +CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT. + +ALYS PUTS TWO AND TWO TOGETHER. + + "I shall as now do more for you + Than longeth to womanhede." + + _The Nut-brown Mayd_. + +"Mr Western is not so well, I hear," said Mr Cheviott to his sister +one afternoon, a fortnight or so after the Rector of Hathercourt's first +seizure. + +Alys started up from the invalid couch on which she was lying. The +brother and sister were in a small morning-room which Alys sometimes +called her "boudoir," though its rather heterogeneous furniture and +contents hardly realised the ideas suggested by the word. + +"I am so dreadfully sorry," she exclaimed. "I had a note from Mary +yesterday saying he was so much better." + +"These cases are sadly deceptive," said Miss Winstanley, who was +knitting by the window, consolingly. "At Mr Western's age I should +think it extremely doubtful if he recovers. I know two or three almost +similar cases that ended fatally, though just at first the doctors +thought hopefully of them." + +"How did you hear it, Laurence?" said Alys. "You didn't send over +to-day to inquire, did you?" + +"No. Arthur told me. He said that he had met Brandreth on the road +somewhere on his way back from the Edge," said Mr Cheviott, strolling +to the window, where he remained standing, looking out. + +"I wish you would ask him to come and tell me _exactly_ what Dr +Brandreth says," Alys asked. + +"He is not in--he went over to the stables a few minutes ago. I'll tell +him to come and speak to you when he comes back. But I feel sure that +was all he heard," replied Mr Cheviott, without manifesting any +surprise at Alys's extreme interest in the matter. + +"I wonder if they have sent for Miss Western--Lilias, the eldest one, I +mean," soliloquised Alys. "Mary said they hoped not to need to do so, +as there was some difficulty about her coming home sooner than had been +fixed. Poor Mary, how much she must have had to do, and she _never_ +thinks of herself or takes any rest. I _wish_ I could do anything to +help her!" + +Mr Cheviott turned from the window to the fire, and began poking it +vigorously. + +"Excuse me, Laurence," said Miss Winstanley, plaintively. "I think the +fire's quite hot enough; it is such a very close evening for April." + +Mr Cheviott laughed and desisted. + +"I am out of place in this room," he said. "I am always doing something +clumsy. I'll send Arthur instead--he's a much better tame cat than I." + +He turned to leave the room. + +"By-the-bye, Alys," he said, putting his head in at the door again, "you +had better make much of Arthur while you have him. He says he must +leave the day after to-morrow." + +"And he only came yesterday," said Alys, regretfully. "It's too bad-- +only two days." + +"Three, my dear," corrected her aunt. "We arrived the day before +yesterday. Arthur left Cirencester on Tuesday, and slept Tuesday night +in my house, and this is Friday." + +"Well, it's much the same," said Alys. "He might stay a little longer. +He's always so busy now. Why should he have such a craze for hard work? +It doesn't suit him at all." + +"My dear!" said Miss Winstanley, reprovingly. "How can you say such a +thing? In his circumstances his friends cannot be too thankful that he +has taken to some useful employment, which will do him no harm either +way, however things turn out." + +Alys pricked up her ears. + +"How do you mean `in his circumstances,' aunt? How are his +circumstances different from Laurence's, or any other man's who has a +place and a good income?" + +"Oh! I don't know, my dear," said Miss Winstanley, evasively. "I told +you once before, I don't know all about Arthur's affairs. One, two, +three--I am so afraid I have got a row too much--by-the-bye, my dear, I +wish you wouldn't talk so much about those Westerns. I warned you of it +last year. Laurence does not like them, and the mention of them always +irritates him." + +"It was Laurence himself who first mentioned them, as it happens," said +Alys, not too respectfully, it must be confessed. + +"Ah, yes, but you said a great deal more, and, as I said last year--" + +"Last year and this are very different, aunt," said Alys. "Have you +forgotten all that Mary Western did for me? No one has recognised it +more fully than Laurence." + +"Ah, well, perhaps so. But still he does not _like_ them. Did you not +see how he made some excuse for going away, when you would go on talking +about them?" + +"It was no such thing. It was you fidgeting him about the fire when he +was really concerned about Mr Western," muttered Alys, but too low for +her aunt to catch the words. And Miss Winstanley relapsed into her +"one, two, three, four," and for a few minutes there was silence. Then +Alys returned to the charge. + +"By what you said just now about Arthur's uncertain circumstances, did +you mean the peculiar terms of his father's will?" she said, demurely. + +"Oh, yes, of course, I suppose so, but I wish you would not ask me. I +am very stupid about wills and all sorts of law things," said Miss +Winstanley, floundering about helplessly beneath her niece's diplomatic +cross-questioning. "I only meant that for a man who can't marry and +settle down it is an excellent thing to have some employment." + +"And why shouldn't he marry and settle down?" said Alys. "He will come +into his property in two years, when I am twenty-one--I always remember +it by that--and till that he could have a good allowance to live on. +Why shouldn't he marry, poor fellow? I think it very hard lines that he +shouldn't." + +"But--" began Miss Winstanley. + +"But, aunt," said Alys, who was "working herself up" on a subject she +was at all times inclined to grow rather hot about, "I really mean what +I say. It is the only one thing I have ever really felt inclined to +quarrel with Laurence for _I_ can tell you that Arthur has been much +nearer marrying than you have any idea of, and--" + +It was Miss Winstanley's turn to interrupt. "My dear!" she exclaimed, +letting her knitting-needles fall on her lap in her excitement, "you +don't mean to say that he--that you--you won't be twenty-one for two +years." + +"What _do_ you mean, aunt?" said Alys. "What has my being or not being +twenty-one to do with Arthur's marrying?" + +Miss Winstanley looked as if she were going to cry. + +"Why will you always begin about this subject, Alys?" she said, +pathetically. "I thought you meant--" + +"Well, tell me that, any way," said Alys. "You must tell me what you +thought I meant." + +"Oh, nothing. I must have mistaken you. It was only when you said that +about his having thought of marrying--before your accident, of course-- +and I knew he took it so much to heart, but of course that was natural +on all accounts," said Miss Winstanley, confusedly. + +Alys sat bolt up on her couch, thereby setting all her doctor's orders +at defiance. A red spot glowed on each cheek, her eyes were sparkling. +Miss Winstanley could see that she was growing very excited--the thing +of all others to be avoided for her!--and the poor lady's alarm and +distress added to her nervousness and confusion. + +"Now, aunt," said Alys, calmly, "you _must_ tell me what I want to know. +I am not so blind and childish as you have all imagined. I have known +for a good while that there was some strange complication which was +putting everything wrong, in which, somehow, _I_ was concerned. Don't +make yourself unhappy by thinking it has been all your doing that I have +come to know anything about it. It has been no one person's doing; it +has just been that I have `put two and two together' for myself." + +"Alys," ejaculated her aunt, "what an expression for you to use!" + +"It expresses what I mean," said Alys, pushing back the hair off her +throbbing temples. "And since I have been ill I have had so much time +for thinking and wondering and puzzling out things--and I think I have +become quicker, cleverer, in a way than I used to be. I seem as if I +could almost guess at things by magic, sometimes. Now, aunt, what I +want to know is _this_--is Arthur's future in any way dependent on _me_, +or anything I may or may not do?" + +"Had you not better ask Laurence?" said Miss Winstanley, tremulously, +driven at last hopelessly into a corner. + +"No, it would be no use. There is something that he is, in some way, +debarred from telling me, I am sure, otherwise he would have told me, +for he has no love of mystery or secrecy. And _yet_ I feel equally sure +that it is something that can only be put straight by my knowing it." + +Miss Winstanley sat silent, a picture of bewildered distress. + +"Aunt," said Alys again, after a short pause, her cheeks and brow +flushing to the roots of her hair, "what I am going to ask you I don't +like to put in words--it seems to me such an altogether repulsive, +unnatural idea, but, as you won't speak without, I _must_ ask you. Has +all this trouble anything to do with my marrying some one, any one in +particular? You told me once that Uncle Beverley, Arthur's father, was +extraordinarily fond of me when I was a baby, and that he would have +done anything to show his gratitude to my mother for what she had done +for him. Now, aunt, has this anything to do with the peculiar terms of +his will, which I have very often heard alluded to?" + +"I have never seen the will; believe me, Alys, I do not know its exact +terms," Miss Winstanley pleaded. + +"Well, I dare say you don't, aunt. But you know enough to throw a +little daylight on _my_ part of it. Aunt, is it, _can_ it be that +Arthur's inheriting his father's property--his _own_ property--depends +on his marrying _me_?" + +Her voice quivered and fell--a whole army of contending feelings were at +war within her as she waited breathlessly for Miss Winstanley's reply. + +"No, not exactly," she said, trying, as usual, to shelter herself behind +vague and indefinite answers, "if _you_ did not want to many _him_, he +would not be punished for that. Now, Alys, this is all I can say. I am +going away up-stairs to my own room, to avoid any more talk of this +kind." + +Miss Winstanley rose from her seat, nervously tugging at her shawl +which, as usual, had dropped far below her waist as she got up. + +Alys took no notice of her last sentence. + +"If _I_ don't want to marry _him_, he will be none the worse," she +repeated, slowly, "but if he doesn't want to marry me--what then? That +would be a different story! Thank you, aunt; on the whole, I think you +have told me enough, so you may stay down-stairs without fear. I am not +going to ask any more questions." + +Her tone was cool and composed enough, yet, on the whole, Miss +Winstanley would rather have had her more visibly angry. There was a +gleam in her eyes and a scorching spot on each cheek which her aunt had +not for long seen there. "Alys was very hot-tempered as a child," she +was wont to say of her, "but of late years she had calmed down +wonderfully." + +"No, Alys, I don't want to stay down-stairs, thank you," she replied, +reprovingly, tugging harder than ever at the front of the recalcitrant +shawl, her efforts in some mysterious way only resulting in a more +tantalising descent behind. + +Alys made no reply. + +"To think," she was muttering to herself, "to think how all this time I +have been kept in the dark! How like a fool I have behaved! Laurence +might have warned me _somehow_--however he was bound down not to tell +me. He had better have tried to upset the will on the ground of Uncle +Beverley's being mad, which he certainly must have been!" + +Two minutes after Miss Winstanley left the room Captain Beverley entered +it. + +"Alys," he said, as he came in, "Laurence said you wanted me, so here I +am. Why, what's the matter, child?" he added, with a quick change of +tone as he caught sight of her face. She was not crying, but her cheeks +were burning and her eyes gleaming, and as she looked up to answer her +cousin, he saw that she was biting her lips in a quick nervous way to +keep back the tears--a gesture peculiar to her from childhood. + +"_Everything_ is the matter," she said, bitterly. "I feel as if I +should never trust any one again. I have something to say to you, +Arthur, something very particular, and I want to say it very distinctly, +so please to listen." + +"I'm all attention," said Arthur, lightly still, though in reality not a +little apprehensive as to what was coming. What could it be? Could +Alys have found out about the understanding that now existed between +himself and Lilias--she had been so intimate with Mary Western at the +Edge? But a moment's reflection dismissed the idea. Lilias was too +true to have told any one, even her sister, without his sanction. +Besides, even had the fact come to Alys's knowledge, she would have been +pleased and sympathising, not discomposed and indignant, as she +evidently was. + +"Listen," she repeated. "I want to tell you, Arthur Beverley, that +supposing anything so altogether impossible and unnatural, and--and +absurd and ridiculous as that you, my cousin, almost brother, should +have thought of wanting to marry me--_me_, Alys!--well, supposing such a +thing, I want to tell you that nothing you or any one could ever have +said or ever could say would make me ever, even for half an instant, +take such a thing into consideration. I _could_ not do so. I tell you +distinctly that I would not marry you for _anything_, Arthur, not if my +life depended upon it." + +Captain Beverley stared at her--stared as if he hardly believed his own +ears. + +"Does he think I am going out of my mind?" thought Alys, while across +her brain there darted a horrible misgiving--could she in any way have +misunderstood Miss Winstanley's confused replies?--could this impulsive +act of hers, instead of being, as it had seemed to her, a positive +inspiration, be after all a mistake, a terribly unwomanly mistake, +which, to the last day of her life, she would blush to think of? +Afterwards it seemed to Alys as if in waiting for her cousin to speak +she had lived through years of agonised suspense. + +"Alys," he said at last, hoarsely, it sounded to her. "Alys," and oh! +the relief of the next few words, strangely chosen and almost +ludicrously matter-of-fact as they sounded! "Would you mind putting +that in writing?" + +"Certainly not. I will do so this moment," she replied, recovering her +self-possession and presence of mind on the spot. "Here, give me my +writing things--just push my davenport over here." + +Arthur did so, his hands trembling, his face pale with anxiety. All +Alys's nervousness and agitation seemed to have passed to him. + +"It is best to do it at once," he murmured, more as if speaking to +himself than to her, "before I am tempted to say anything, so that my +conscience may be clear that it is entirely voluntary, entirely her own +doing." + +"Yes," said Alys, looking up from the paper on which she had already +traced some lines, "that it _certainly_ is." Then she went on writing. +"There, now, will that do?" she exclaimed, holding the sheet towards +him. + +"Read it, please," said Arthur, and Alys read: + + "Of my own free will, uninfluenced by any one whatsoever, I wish to + declare that no conceivable consideration would, at this or any other + time, make me agree to marry my cousin, Arthur Beverley. + + "Alys Madelene Cheviott." + +"Yes," said Arthur, slowly, "that will do. Shall I thank you, Alys, or +would you rather not?" + +She looked up with a sparkle of her old mischievousness in her eyes. + +"I don't know, I'm sure," she said; "I don't quite see it, I confess. I +have simply stated a fact." Then suddenly she held up her hands before +her face, which was growing hot again. "No, no, Arthur, don't thank +me," she exclaimed; "I could not bear it. It is altogether too--too bad +that anything like this should come between you and me. Go away, +please, and send Laurence." + +Arthur looked at her with earnest, regretful tenderness. But he saw +that she was right. She would be better without him, and he went. Five +minutes afterwards her brother entered the room. + +"Alys," he said, sternly, but any one that knew him could have seen that +it was a sternness born of anxiety, "what is all this? What have you +been doing? I cannot understand what Arthur says, or rather he won't +explain, but refers me to you. What have you been doing?" + +"Only enacting the part of Miss Jane Baxter," said Alys, with an attempt +at indifference. + +"Alys, what do you mean?" + +"Who refused all the men before they axed her," continued Alys, in the +same tone. + +"Alys!" said her brother again, and something in his tone arrested her. + +She looked up. + +"Laurence," she said, "don't misunderstand me; I am not really flippant +and horrid like that, but it is true all the same. I have told Arthur, +deliberately and seriously, that, if he were ever to ask me to marry +him, _nothing_ would ever make me take such a thing even into momentary +consideration. I would not marry him for _anything_." + +"Had he asked you to do so?" said Mr Cheviott, in a tone half of amaze, +half of bewilderment. + +"_No_," said Alys, "I told you he had not, and most certainly after what +I have said, he never will." + +"Do you think he had any intention of the kind?" again questioned her +brother. + +Alys hesitated. Her quick wits told her that she must be careful what +admissions she made. Were she to reply what she believed to be the +truth--that her cousin never had had, never would have any such feelings +with regard to her as could lead to his asking her to many him--the +effect on him might, she felt vaguely, be disastrous. So she hesitated, +and meanwhile her brother watched her narrowly. + +"I don't see," she said at last, "I don't see that I need answer that, +Laurence. All I want you to know is that, after what I have said, +Arthur could never think of me in that way. I have made it impossible +for him to do so." + +"And what made you do this? What has put all this into your head? Was +it Aunt Winstanley?" asked Mr Cheviott. + +"No," replied Alys. "That is to say, Aunt Winstanley did not put +anything in my head, though I forced her to answer one or two questions +I asked her. She did so very confusedly, I assure you, and but for my +own ideas I should have been little the better for her information. No +one is to blame. I have not been as blind and unconscious as you +thought--that is all." + +That _was_ all in one sense. It was plain to Mr Cheviott that Alys +would say no more, and on reflection he could not see that any more +explanation on her part would do any good. He stood silent, hardly able +as yet to see clearly the effect of this extraordinary turn of affairs. + +"I am going up to my own room, Laurence," said Alys, rising slowly as +she spoke. "I am very tired. I think I won't come down to dinner. I +don't want you just now to say whether you think I have done rightly or +wrongly, wisely or unwisely--some time or other I dare say you will +explain all that has puzzled me. But in the mean time some instinct +tells me, told me while I was doing it, that you, Laurence, would be +glad for me to do it. Kiss me, dear, and say good-night." + +He bent down and kissed her tenderly, still without speaking. But when +Alys was up in her own room, safe for the night from all curious or +anxious eyes, she lay down on her sofa, burying her face in its +cushions, and sobbed as if her heart would break. + +CHAPTER TWENTY NINE. + +CUTTING THE KNOT. + + "Let's take the instant by the forward top; + ... On our quick'st decrees + The inaudible and noiseless foot of time + Steals ere we can effect them." + + _All's Well that Ends Well_. + +Dinner passed very silently at Romary that evening. Mr Cheviott was +preoccupied, Captain Beverley labouring evidently under some suppressed +excitement, Miss Winstanley nervous and depressed. + +"Have you seen Alys, Laurence?" she said, as the butler came with a +discreet inquiry as to what Miss Cheviott would be likely to "fancy." +She had told her maid that she did not want any dinner, but had been so +far influenced by Mathilde's remonstrance as to say she would take +anything her aunt liked to send her. "I really don't know what to send +up to her," Miss Winstanley went on, helplessly. "What do you think, +Laurence? I went to her room on my way down-stairs, but Mathilde said +she had begged not to be disturbed." + +"I saw her half an hour ago," said Mr Cheviott. "I think she is only +tired. I will send her up something." He got up from his chair and +himself superintended the arrangement of a tempting little tray. + +"Is Alys ill?" said Captain Beverley, in a low voice, and with a slight +guiltiness of manner which did not escape his cousin. + +"I think not," Mr Cheviott replied, dryly, as he sat down. "She has +been over-excited, and nowadays she can't stand that sort of thing." + +Arthur said no more, but he was evidently glad when dinner was over, and +Miss Winstanley had left the cousins by themselves. + +"Laurence," he began, eagerly, when the last servant had closed the door +and they were really alone, "I am anxious to tell you everything that +passed between Alys and me this afternoon. I only thought it fair to +her that she should tell you what she chose to tell, first." + +"That was not very much," said Mr Cheviott, "she evidently is afraid of +damaging you by saying much." + +"God bless her," said Arthur, fervently, "of course she does not know +the whole state of the case. But _I_ am perfectly willing to tell you +everything, Laurence; in fact, as things are, I should be a fool not to +do so. But, in the first place, read this." + +He held out the paper that Alys had written and signed. In spite of his +intense anxiety--an anxiety but very partially understood by Captain +Beverley, who little knew the personal complications the charge of his +affairs had brought upon his cousin--Mr Cheviott could not restrain a +smile as he read the words before him. + +"An extraordinary document, I must confess," he said, as he returned it +to Arthur. "Upon my word, Beverley, Alys and you are just a couple of +children. If only such serious results were not involved, the whole +thing would be most laughable. What can have put all this into her +head?" + +"Her own intentions and her own observations principally, I believe," +said Arthur. "She knew something of--of my admiration for Miss Western, +and she suspected that you had exerted your influence to prevent its +coming to anything. She knows you to be too honourable and right-minded +to interfere in such a matter without good reason--through mere +prejudice, for instance." Mr Cheviott winced a little. + +"I cannot say of myself, Arthur, that I _was_ always quite free from +prejudice in this matter," he interrupted, speaking in a low and +somewhat constrained voice, "but I am, I believe I am, ready to own +myself in the wrong if I have been so." + +Arthur's face beamed with pleasure. + +"Thank you for that, Laurence," he said, "a hundred thanks. But I keep +to what I said. Whatever your personal prejudices may have been, you +did not act upon _them_. Your conduct was based entirely upon regard, +unselfish regard for my welfare, and this Alys felt instinctively and +set her wits to work to puzzle it out. But what has first to be +considered is this--the statement on that paper is Alys's own voluntary +declaration--" + +"Did she write it of her own accord?" + +"She first _said_ it to me, in stronger and plainer words even than +those she wrote; and when I asked her if she would put it on paper, she +did so in an instant--with the greatest eagerness and readiness. Now, +Laurence, what is now my position? Supposing I wished to do such a +thing, _could_ I ask Alys to marry me after what she has said--it would +be a perfect farce and mockery." + +"It certainly would," said Mr Cheviott. "I'll tell you what we must +do, Arthur. We must go up to town and lay the present state of the case +before old Maudsley, and see what he says. He is as anxious as any of +us to get the thing settled, and he must see that it would be perfect +nonsense now to look forward to any possibility of the terms of the will +being fulfilled. And I do not see that their non-fulfillment can +possibly rest upon _you_. It is a strong point in your favour that you +have done nothing premature in any other direction. No doubt we shall +have to go to law about it--carry it before the Court of Chancery, I +mean to say--but as all the beneficiaries, you and Alys, or myself as +her guardian, are of one mind as to what we _wish_, I cannot now +anticipate much difficulty." + +"But, Laurence," began Arthur, and then he hesitated. "At all costs," +he went on again, "I must be open with you. I _have_ done what you call +something `premature' in another direction. I am as good as--in fact, I +_am_ engaged to Lilias Western." + +Mr Cheviott's brow contracted. + +"Since when?" he said, shortly, while a sudden painful misgiving darted +through his brain. Had _Mary_ known this?--had she, in a sense, +deceived him? True, she was under no sort of bond not to oppose him-- +rather the other way; from the first she had openly defied him on this +point, but still she must be different from what he had believed her, +capable of something more like dissimulation and calculation than he +liked to associate with that candid brow, those honest eyes, were it the +case that she had known this actual state of things all through that +time at the Edge farm--so lately even as during their strange drive to +Withenden and back. With keen anxiety he awaited his cousin's reply. + +"Since about the time of Alys's accident I came down here then one day-- +you did not know--I was so uneasy about Alys--and I met Lilias close to +the Edge, and heard from her how Alys was. And then somehow--I felt I +could not go on like that, at the worst I could work for her, and I have +been learning how to do so, you must allow--somehow we came to an +understanding." + +"And her people know, of course--her sister does, any way, I suppose?" +said Mr Cheviott, with an unmistakable accent of pain in his voice +which made Captain Beverley look up in surprise. + +"Her sister--Mary, do you mean? No, indeed she does not. None of them +do. There was, indeed, very little to know--simply an understanding, I +might almost call it a tacit understanding, between our two selves that +we would wait for each other till brighter days came. We have not +written to each other or met again. I would do nothing to compromise +Lilias till I could openly claim her. I did not, of course, explain my +position; had I done so, she would not, as you once said, have agreed to +my ruining myself for her sake. All she knows is that I may very +probably be a very poor man. And _because_ I could not explain my +position, I saw no harm in keeping it all to our two selves for the +present. But, you see, I have looked upon it as settled--till to-day I +have considered myself virtually disinherited, and I have been working +hard at C--to fit myself for an agency or so on at the end of the two +years." + +Mr Cheviott listened attentively, without again interrupting his +cousin. But Captain Beverley could see that it was with a lightened +countenance he turned towards him again. + +"_Alys_ knows nothing of this?" he said. "You are perfectly certain +that her eccentric behaviour to-day was not caused by her believing she +in any way stood between you and Miss Western? Don't you see, if it +were so, this would injure you altogether; it might then seem as if she +had done what she has out of pique, or self-sacrifice, or some feeling +of that kind that, in a sense, you were to blame for?" + +Mr Cheviott watched his cousin closely as he said this, but Arthur +stood the scrutiny well. For a moment or two he stared as if he hardly +understood; then a light suddenly breaking upon him, he flushed +slightly, but there was no hesitation in his honest blue eyes as he +looked up in his cousin's face. + +"I see what you mean," he said, "but I didn't at first. No, Laurence, +Alys thinks of me as a brother; she did know and warmly approved of my +admiration for Miss Western, but she never knew of its going further. I +rather think she fancies it shared the fate of my other admirations, and +that she thinks no better of me in consequence. What she did to-day had +nothing to do with that. She has got into her dear little head that she +comes between me and my fortune, and knowing that she never could +possibly have cared for me, except as a brother, whether I had cared for +her in another way or not, she has, for my sake, nobly taken the bull by +the horns. And so far I feel all right. Had I proposed to her twenty +times, she would never have accepted me." + +Mr Cheviott was silent. Whether or not he agreed with his cousin was +not the question. That Arthur honestly believed what he said was +enough. + +"And what is to be done then?" said Arthur. + +"What I said," replied Mr Cheviott. "We must lay it all before +Maudsley as soon as possible. And in the mean time, Arthur, do nothing +more--let things remain as they are with Miss Western. In any case you +cannot come into your property for two years." + +"But whatever happens, I am not going to let `things remain as they +are,' as you say, for two years," said Arthur, aghast. "You can +continue my present income for that time, anyway, now that my future is +likely to be all right. At the worst, even if my engagement was +publicly announced, it is six of one and half a dozen of the other as +regards Alys and me. I should have shown I did not want to marry her, +but she most certainly has shown she does not want to marry me." He +touched Alys's paper as he spoke. + +"Yes," said Mr Cheviott, "that is true." + +"Perhaps," said Arthur, laughingly, "if we appeal to the Court of +Chancery, it will divide the estate between us. I shouldn't mind. +Lilias and I could live on what there would be well enough." + +"I don't think that's likely," said Mr Cheviott. "However, the first +thing to be done is to see Maudsley." + +And it was settled that they should go up to town the following day. + +But when the cousins had separated for the night, and Arthur was alone +with his own thoughts, a certain feeling of dissatisfaction with his own +conduct came over him. + +"I can't make it out exactly," he said to himself, as he sat over the +smoking-room fire with his pipe, "but somehow I've a feeling that I'm +not acting quite straightforwardly. How is it? Is it that I am +claiming my property on false pretences--knowing in my heart that I +never did intend to propose to Alys; or is it that I am not behaving +rightly to Lilias--keeping her, or our engagement rather, dark till I +feel my way? Laurence is as honest a fellow as ever lived, but then his +intense anxiety that I should get my own blinds him a little, perhaps, +to the other sides of the question. What a muddle it all is, to be +sure!" + +He sat still for a few moments longer, then suddenly rose from his seat. + +"I'll do it," he said; "right or wrong, it seems the honestest thing. +I'll do it." + +He hunted about for writing materials, and, having found them, set to +work at once on a letter. He did not hesitate in writing it; he seemed +at no loss what to say, and in less than half an hour it was completed, +signed, sealed and addressed to _Mrs Western, Hathercourt Rectory_. + +Then the young man gave a deep sigh of relief, went to bed, and slept +soundly till morning. But very early he was astir again; before many +members of the Romary household even--for it was, compared with many, an +early one--were about, Captain Beverley had crossed the park, and +traversed on foot the two miles to the nearest post-office, that of +Uxley, where he deposited his letter, and was at home again before Mr +Cheviott made his appearance for the eight o'clock breakfast, +necessitated by their intended journey. + +A couple of hours later found the two young men in the train. + +"Laurence," began Captain Beverley, but his cousin interrupted him. + +"Excuse me, Arthur. I want to say something to you before I forget. +You must let _me_ be the spokesman with Maudsley; if he proposes, as I +expect, to carry your affairs to the Court of Chancery, I think it will +be best for his mind to be perfectly unprejudiced, and to let his +instructions, in the first place anyway, come from me. You, I am +certain, would not tell the story impartially--you would tell it against +your own interests." + +"I must tell it as it is, Laurence," said Arthur, "and, no doubt facts +will show that I am, at least, as much to blame as Alys for the +non-fulfillment of my father's wishes. For, Laurence, I was just going +to tell you when you interrupted me--I've _done_ it, out and out. I +couldn't stand leaving things as they were; it wasn't fair to her, nor +honest to any one, somehow. I have written and sent a formal proposal +for Lilias to her parents. I sent it to her mother, because her father +is ill." + +"And what did you say?" + +"I told them that my prospects were most uncertain--I might be poor, I +might be rich, and probably should not know which for two years, but +that, at the worst, I could work for my livelihood, and was preparing +myself for such a possibility." + +Mr Cheviott was silent. + +"Are you awfully annoyed with me, Laurence?" + +A half smile broke over Mr Cheviott's face at the question. + +"Upon my soul," he said, "I don't know. If a fellow _will_ cut his own +throat--" + +"Complimentary to Miss Western," said Arthur. + +"Well, well, you know what I mean. I allow that, in your case, there +was strong temptation, and, of course, Arthur, I respect you for your +straightforwardness and downrightness. _Personally_, I have certainly +no reason to be annoyed. What the relief to me will be of having this +horrible concealment at an end, you can hardly imagine--the +misconception it has exposed me to--good God!" He stopped abruptly. +Arthur stared at him in amazement. + +"I had no idea you felt so strongly about it, Laurence," he said. "It +makes me all the more thankful I have done what I have. You refer to +Alys, of course? I know she must have been puzzled, but _nothing_ would +shake her confidence in you, old fellow, and now she will understand +everything." + +"Yes, it would, of course, be an absurdity to carry out the directions +about not telling her, once you are openly engaged to Miss Western," +replied Mr Cheviott. "And, I suppose, you have not much misgiving as +to what the answer will be to your letter?" + +"I don't know," said Arthur. "It will all come right in the end, but I +expect her people to hesitate, at first, on account of the uncertainty. +But you don't think there will be any question of stopping my allowance, +in the mean time, if I marry before the stated period is out?" + +"I think not. I can take that upon me--for Alys. But if we appeal to +the court at once it will probably confirm your income till things are +settled." + +That same evening the cousins returned home. Some light, but not much +satisfaction, was the result of their journey. Mr Maudsley approved of +the course proposed by Mr Cheviott, but was decidedly of opinion that +no decision could be arrived at till the date fixed by Arthur's father +for his son's coming of age. "And then?" eagerly inquired both men. He +could not say--it was an unusual, in fact, an extraordinary case, but, +on the whole, seeing that the non-fulfillment of the testator's wishes +was at least as much the lady's doing as the gentleman's--a contingency +which never seemed to have dawned upon Mr Beverley--on the whole it +seemed improbable that Captain Beverley should be declared the sufferer. +"But it was a most extraordinary complication, no doubt," repeated Mr +Maudsley, and he was glad to feel that neither he nor any one connected +with him had had anything to do with the drawing up of so short-sighted +a document as the late Mr Beverley's last will and testament. + +"Who did draw it up?" said Arthur, turning to his cousin. + +"A stranger," was the reply. "You know he consulted no one about it. +He knew my father would altogether have opposed it. But it is perfectly +legal. Mr Maudsley and I have tried often enough to find some flaw in +it," he added, with a slight smile. + +"And what about telling Alys?" said Arthur, with some little hesitation, +as the dog-cart was entering the Romary gates. + +"I think," said Laurence, "I think, as she knows, or has guessed so +much, it is best to tell her all. It is to some extent left to my +discretion to explain the whole to her should it be evident that the +conditions cannot be fulfilled, which I have always interpreted to mean +in case of her or your marriage, or engagement to some one else. Of +course there are people who would say that you are not yet married, +hardly engaged, and that I should wait, to be sure. But honestly I +confess, after what has happened, it would be repulsive to me, in fact, +_impossible_ to go on dreaming that your father's wishes ever could be +fulfilled. The worst of such a deed as your father's will is that all I +can do is to act up to the _letter_ of his instructions--as for the +_spirit_ of it--!" + +"You've done your best," said Arthur, re-assuringly; "far better than +any other fellow in the same position could have done. Just you see if +Alys doesn't say so. It's been a horrid sell for you altogether, and--" + +"Not the _not_ getting your patrimony. You don't mean that?" +interrupted Laurence. "Heaven only knows what the relief will be to me +if, as I am beginning to hope, it is decidedly the right way." + +"No, I didn't mean that exactly," said Arthur. "I know you and Alys are +less selfish and grasping than any two people _I_ have ever come +across--_cela va sans dire_--I meant the bother and worry and all the +rest of it. I wish somehow _something_ might go to Alys. I can't help +wishing that, you see, knowing it all and feeling just as if she were my +own sister." + +"_Don't_ wish it," said Laurence, shortly. "Alys will have enough. +Married or single she need never be dependent on any one." + +"Ah, yes!" returned Arthur; "but still--She wouldn't be the worse of a +home of her own. Downham now--it's a nice little place, and what on +earth should I do with two--_three_, there's the Edge," he added, with a +merry, boyish laugh--"if Downham, now, could be settled on Alys, for, +you see, Laurence," he added, seriously, and as hesitating to allude to +anything so completely out of the range of probabilities, "after all, +it's just possible you may marry." + +"I suppose so," said Laurence, with a touch of bitterness in his tone +which Arthur, had he perceived, would have been at a loss to explain, "I +suppose so, but so _highly_ unlikely, it is no use taking it into +consideration one way or another. Confess now, Arthur, you hardly +could, could you, _imagine_ such a thing as any girl's caring for me?" + +Arthur looked up at his cousin with some surprise. Was Laurence joking? +He could not tell. + +"I don't know why one shouldn't," he said, meditatively. "A girl, I +mean--I don't see why you need fancy yourself so unattractive. You're +good-looking enough, and--come now, Laurence, that's not fair; you're +leading me out to laugh at me," for so only could he interpret the +slight smile that flickered over his cousin's face. + +"I was in earnest, I assure you," said Mr Cheviott. "However, never +mind. We'll postpone the discussion of my charms to a more convenient +season. Here we are at home." + +"Shall you have your talk with Alys to-night?" said Arthur. + +"Probably--unless, that is to say, you would rather I should wait till-- +till--how shall I put it?--till you get a reply to your letter to +Hathercourt." + +"No," said Arthur, decidedly, "don't put it off on that account. +Whatever disappointment in the shape of delay or hesitation may be in +store for me, I've no misgiving as far as Lilias herself is concerned. +She's as true as steel. And in any case Alys deserves my confidence. +No sister could have been stauncher to me through all than she has +been." + +And so it was decided, though, glad as Laurence felt to put an end once +and for always to the only misconception that had ever existed between +his sister and himself, a strange indefinable reluctance to tell her all +clung to him. + +"She will hate so to hear the idea of a marriage with Arthur discussed +or alluded to," he said to himself. "Girls are such queer creatures. +However, the more reason to get it over. Will she ever tell it to Mary +Western, I wonder? I shall lay no embargo upon her, for sooner or later +Arthur is sure to tell the elder sister the whole story. But even if it +were all explained, what then? I said in my fury that day what I wish I +could forget--I said to her that I _could_ have made her care for me. +_Could_ I? Ah, no--such deep prejudice and aversion could never be +overcome. As Arthur could not conceal in his honesty, I am very far +from an attractive man--not one likely to `find favour in my lady's +eyes.' I am certainly not `a pretty fellow.' Ah, well, so be it!" + +CHAPTER THIRTY. + +"AMENDES HONOURABLES." + + "... But what avails it now + To speak more words? We're parting, + Let it be in kindness, give me good-bye, + Tell me you understand, or else forgive." + + "I've nothing to forgive; you love me not, + And that you cannot help, I fancy." + + Hon. Mrs Willoughby.--_Euphemia_. + +But, as not unfrequently happens, Mr Cheviott found the anticipation +worse than the reality. Alys was up-stairs in her own room when they +got to the house, and she begged her brother not to ask her to come down +that evening. + +"I am not ill," she said, "only tired and nervous, somehow. Come up to +me after dinner, Laurence, and let us have a good talk--that will do me +more good than anything." + +She looked up at him with a curious questioning in her eyes that struck +him as strangely pathetic. + +"Yes," he said to himself, "she _must_ be told all." + +So the way was paved for his revelations. And Alys was sufficiently +prepared for them to manifest no very overwhelming surprise. She +listened in silence till Laurence had told her all. Then she just said +quietly: + +"Laurence, it was a _cruel_ will." + +"Yes," said her brother, "however intended, so it has indeed proved." + +"Going near," pursued Alys, softly, almost as if speaking to herself, +"going near to spoil two, four, nay, I may say _five_ lives," she +whispered. "Oh, thank God, Laurence, it is at an end!" + +She clasped her thin little hands nervously. How changed she was--Alys, +poor Alys, who used to ignore the very existence of nerves! + +Her next remark struck Mr Cheviott unexpectedly. + +"Laurence," she said, "I wonder if Mary Western will ever know all +this!" + +He had it on his lips to answer, "The sooner so, the better," but he +_could_ not. Instead thereof his reply sounded cool and unconcerned in +the extreme. + +"Possibly she may, some time or other. Arthur is sure to tell Lilias +Western whom it _does_ concern. But why should you care about her +sister's knowing it?" + +"Because I _do_," Alys replied, oracularly. + +There was a large allowance of letters in the Romary post-bag the next +morning. Several for Captain Beverley--all of which, but one, he put +hastily aside. And his heightened colour and evident anxiety could not +but have betrayed to his companions whence came that one, had not both +Mr Cheviott and Miss Winstanley been absorbed by news of unusual +interest in their respective letters. + +"Laurence," said Arthur, at last, when for the time letters were put +down, and breakfast began to receive some attention, "is that +yesterday's _Times_? Have you looked at it? I wonder if there is a +death in it of some one I know--you know who I mean--the last of those +poor Brookes, Basil's brother, I mean Anselm, a boy of eighteen. I hear +he died at Hastings, two days ago." + +"I don't know about its being in the _Times_," replied Mr Cheviott, +"but, curiously enough, I have just heard of it in a letter from an old +friend of mine, Mrs Brabazon, an aunt of the poor fellow's, and--" + +"And?" said Arthur, eagerly. + +Mr Cheviott glanced at Miss Winstanley. "Afterwards," he formed with +his lips, rather than by pronouncing the word, in reply to his cousin. +But Miss Winstanley had caught something of what they were saying. + +"The Brookes," she exclaimed, "are you talking of the Brookes of +Marshover?" and when both her companions answered affirmatively, "How +very odd!" she went on, growing quite excited. "My letter is all about +them too. It is from my old friend, Miss Mashiter, who has been staying +at the same hotel at Hastings as the Brookes are at, and she is quite +upset about the poor young fellow's death--it was so sudden at the last, +and there is such a romantic story about. It appears that a cousin of +the young man's came to Hastings lately, a most exquisitely beautiful +creature, with whom he had been in love since early boyhood, though +somewhat older than himself, and she has been devoting herself to him, +and now the report is that, just before he died, he got his poor father +to promise to leave everything to her--he has no child left, and the +Brookes are enormously rich. What a catch the young lady will be!" + +"Aunt Winstanley, I am ashamed of you!" said Mr Cheviott. "I had no +idea you were so worldly-minded. You don't mean to say you ever heard +of such a thing as a girl's losing a lover and consoling herself with +another--especially when the first had, as you say in this case, left +her a fortune?" + +"It _is_ very sad," agreed Miss Winstanley, quite deceived by Mr +Cheviott's tone--"very sad, but such is the way of the world, Laurence. +Of course, I would not say such a thing before Alys." + +"_Of course_ not," said her nephew, approvingly. + +Arthur looked up with relief; for the instant, Miss Winstanley's story +had startled him a little--for to whom could the episode of the +beautiful cousin refer but to Lilias, still, as her mother's letter +informed him, at Hastings, "doing what she can for our poor friends +there." But there must be great nonsense mixed up with Miss Mashiter's +gossip, Arthur decided, seeing that Laurence, who had the correct +version of the whole in his hands, could afford to tease Miss Winstanley +about it. The poor boy--Anselm Brooke--was dead, but still--the idea of +Lilias's name being coupled with that of any man, or boy even, was not +altogether palatable, and still less that of her being an heiress! + +"What a mercy I yielded to my inspiration and wrote to Mrs Western +yesterday!" he replied. "To-day, after hearing that report, nonsensical +though it probably is, I should hardly have liked to write." + +He was thankful when Miss Winstanley at length got up from her seat--her +breakfast seemed to have been an interminable affair that morning--and +saying that she must go and ask what sort of a night Alys had had, left +the cousins to themselves. + +"What is your news? What does Mrs Brabazon write about?" exclaimed +Arthur, eagerly, almost before the door had closed on Miss Winstanley. + +"Rather," said Laurence, "What is _yours_? Mine will keep, but you, I +see, have a letter from Hathercourt which, I am sure, you are dying to +tell me all about." + +"To show you, if you like," said Arthur, holding it out to his cousin. +"You have guessed, I see, that it is all I could wish." + +It was a thoroughly kind and sensible reply from Mrs Western. She made +no pretence of astonishment at the nature of Captain Beverley's letter +to her; she said that she and her husband would be glad to see him +again, and to talk over what he had wished to say to them. + +Lilias was at Hastings, but expected home in a few days. Mr Western +was continuing better. Any afternoon of the present week would find +them both at home and disengaged, and she ended by thanking Arthur for +his consideration in writing to her instead of Lilias's father, as he +was still far from able to meet any sudden agitation without risk of +injury. + +"Should I go over this afternoon, do you think?" said Arthur. + +"Yes, I should say so," replied Mr Cheviott. "And what will you tell +them?" + +"Everything. I have no choice," said Arthur. "That is to say, I shall +tell them all about my father's will and the present state of the case, +and what Maudsley thinks and what _you_ think. Of course I need not go +into particulars as to what passed between Alys and me the other day, +but I will just tell them that anything of the kind, as regards both her +and myself, never has been, never _could_ have been possible--that we +are, and always have been, and always shall be, I trust, brother and +sister to each other." + +Mr Cheviott had been listening attentively. + +"Yes," he said, when his cousin left off speaking, and looked up for his +approval, "I don't think you can do better." + +"And now for your news--Mrs Brabazon's, I mean," said Arthur, eagerly. +But Mr Cheviott showed no corresponding eagerness to reply. + +"She says," he answered, quietly, "that Miss Western is with them and +quite well. Of course they are all sadly depressed by young Brooke's +death, though they knew it must come before long--she writes as if poor +old Brooke had got his death-blow, but she says that `Lilias' has been +the greatest comfort to them." + +"And what more?" asked Arthur, "there is something more, I know. There +is nothing in all that to have been a reason for Mrs Brabazon's writing +to you." + +"I didn't say there was. Women constantly write letters without any +reason," observed Mr Cheviott. + +Arthur got up from his seat and walked impatiently up and down the room. + +"Laurence," he said at length, "I think that sort of chaffing of yours +is ill-timed." + +"I don't mean to chaff you--upon my word, I don't," said Mr Cheviott, +looking up innocently. "All I mean is that, whatever my news is, I am +not going to tell you any more of it at present. It is much better not, +and you will see so yourself afterwards." + +"You meant to tell me all when you first got the letter?" said Arthur. + +"Well, yes, I don't know but that I did. But I have changed my mind." + +"Is it--no, it cannot be--that there is any truth in that absurd +nonsense that Miss Winstanley was telling us?" + +"Why should you ask? It bore on the face of it that it _was_ absurd +nonsense," replied Mr Cheviott. "Do, Arthur, trust me. You have done +so in important things. Can't you leave me to tell you about Mrs +Brabazon's letter after you have been at Hathercourt?" + +"Very well. Needs must, I suppose," said Arthur, lightly. + +But he was not without misgivings during his long ride to the Rectory. + +"I wish that idiotic old maid had kept her gossip to herself instead of +writing it off to Miss Winstanley," he said to himself more than once, +and when he got close to Hathercourt he felt so nervously apprehensive +of what he might be going to hear, that the relief of meeting, or rather +overtaking Mary within a few yards of the house was very great. + +Mary had no hat or bonnet on--she had just run out to gather some fresh +green for the simple nosegays her father liked to see from his sofa. +She was already in mourning for her young cousin, and as she looked up +with a bright flush of pleasure to return Captain Beverley's greeting, +he could not help thinking that, though "not Lilias," she was certainly +very pretty. + +"That black dress surely shows her off to advantage," he said to +himself, "or else she has grown prettier than she used to be. What a +queer fellow Laurence is--fancy being shut up at the Edge for three +weeks with a girl like that, and emerging as great a misogynist as +before!" + +Her mother was at home and disengaged, or would, no doubt, speedily be +so, when she heard of his visit, Mary told him. Then he got off his +horse, and she led him into the drawing-room. + +"Mamma is in the study, I think," she said, lingering a little. Then +with some hesitation and rising colour, "I had a letter from Lilias this +morning. She is coming home the day after to-morrow." + +"So soon?" exclaimed Captain Beverley, delightedly. "That is better +than I hoped for. Mary," he went on, impulsively, holding out both his +hands and taking hers into their clasp, "Mary--you will forgive my +calling you so?--you know what I have come about, don't you? You will +wish me joy--you have always been our friend, I fancy, somehow." + +"_Our_ friend," repeated Mary, inquiringly. "You are sure, then," she +went on, "that--that it will be all right with Lilias? Yes, mamma told +me of your letter--you don't mind?--it is quite safe with me." + +"Mind, of course not. But how do you mean about Lilias?" he asked, with +a quick return of his misgiving. "Nothing has happened that I have not +been told of?" + +His bright face grew pale. Mary, with quick sympathy, hastened to +re-assure him. + +"Oh, no, no," she said, "I don't know what you have heard--but it isn't +that. Nothing of _that_ kind could make Lilias change _of course_. I +only mean--it is a long time since you have seen her, and--and--you went +away so suddenly, you know. Lilias has never said anything to me, but I +have been at a loss what to think about her." + +"As to what she has been thinking about me, do you mean?" + +"Yes," said Mary, bluntly. + +Arthur's face cleared. + +"If that is all, I am not afraid," he said, gently. "You are sure that +is all, Mary?" + +"Quite sure," she replied. Then after a moment's pause, "How is Miss +Cheviott?" + +"Pretty well--at least, so I am told," he replied; "but to me she seems +terribly changed. Laurence, her brother, I mean, won't say much about +her. He can't bear to own it, I fancy. And it is so dull for her. I +think that keeps her back--she should have some companionship." Mary's +face grew very grave. She gave a little sigh. "I wish--" she was +beginning to say, when the door opened and her mother came in. + +Alys was alone in her room that afternoon, when a tap and the request, +"May I come in?" announced her cousin's return. She knew where he had +been, for Laurence had told her everything; but she had not been alone +with Arthur since their strange interview two days ago, and the +remembrance of it set her heart beating as she called out, "Come in by +all means." + +To her surprise, Arthur came quickly up to her sofa, bent down and +kissed her on the forehead before he spoke. + +"Dear Alys," he said, "I have come straight to you. It is all thanks to +you, and I wanted to tell you, before any one, that everything's going +to be all right." + +For half a second there seemed a catch in Alys's breath. Then she +looked up with a smile, though there were tears in her eyes too. + +"I am so glad, so very glad," she said, softly. "Then has Lilias come +back?" she asked. + +"No, she is coming the day after to-morrow," he replied, "and that +reminds me--I have a great deal to tell you, Alys, and I am sure it will +interest you--on Mary's account as well as on Lilias's." + +"I think I know--part of it anyway," said Alys. "Laurence has been +telling me of his letter from Mrs Brabazon--he would not tell you +because he thought it would be so much pleasanter for you to know +nothing about it till the Westerns told you themselves." + +"Yes," said Arthur, "I see." + +"How strange it all seems!" said Alys. "How well I remember meeting +Mrs Brabazon in Paris last year, and how she cross-questioned me about +the Westerns, at the time, you know, that Laurence was so prejudiced +against them." + +"And you spoke up for them?" + +"A little," said Alys, blushing slightly, "I mean, as much as I could." + +"Good girl!" said Arthur, approvingly. + +"And since then, you know, Laurence has quite changed. How could he +help it? You have no idea of Mary's goodness to me that time at your +farm, Arthur, and knowing _her_ showed what they all were, so +single-minded and refined, and so well brought up though they have been +so poor. You mustn't mind, Arthur,--it is no disparagement to Lilias +when I say I cannot help counting Mary my special friend." + +"And now I hope you will see her often," said Arthur. "She would do you +good." + +Alys shook her head. + +"I know she would," she said, "but she won't come here." + +"_Now_ she will," said Arthur. "She can have no more of that +exaggerated terror of being patronised, if that has been her motive. +The county will all find out the Westerns' delightful qualities now, +you'll see, Alys. By-the-bye, I wonder what made Mrs Brabazon write to +Laurence." + +"Just that some one in the neighbourhood might know the real facts of +the case," Alys replied. "There is sure to be so much gossip and +exaggeration. I fancy, too, she wrote with a sort of wish to disabuse +Laurence of his prejudice against her cousins--I am sure she noticed it +that day in Paris--Did the Westerns tell you all about their affairs, +Arthur?" + +"A great deal, they are so frank and, as you say, single-minded, Alys. +They have known something about it for some time, ever since Lilias met +the Brookes at Hastings." + +"And has it been all owing to that?" + +"Oh, no--a great part of the property _must_ have come to Mrs Western; +no, to the eldest son, Basil, I should say, at Mr Brooke's death. But +the Westerns might not have _known_ this, and as the father said to me, +in his invalid state, the release from anxiety is a priceless boon." + +"But it isn't only Basil that is to benefit," said Alys, eagerly. "Mrs +Brabazon said--" + +"Of course not," her cousin interrupted. "Everything is to go to him +eventually--old Brooke not having any one to provide for, and not +wishing to cut up the property--but Mrs Western will, for life, be very +well off indeed, and so will the whole family. Each daughter and +younger son will have what is really a comfortable little fortune. The +Marshover Brookes are _very_ rich, you know." + +"And to think _how_ poor the Westerns have been!" said Alys, +regretfully. + +"Yes; but a few years ago nothing could have seemed more remote than +their chance of succession. And, after all, even very rich people can't +look after all their poor relations." + +"No, I suppose not," said Alys, with a sigh. "Will they leave +Hathercourt?" + +"Sure to, I should think. Mr Brooke wants them to go to Marshover, +Mrs Western says, and keep it up for him, as he will be most of the +year abroad. He is not obliged to do anything for them during his life, +you see, but he has already settled an ample income on Mrs Western, and +Basil is to go into the army, and George to college." + +"I shall never see Mary again, all the same." + +"Why not?" + +"I don't know, but I am certain she will never come here. Arthur, I +think she dislikes Laurence too much ever to come here." + +Arthur opened his eyes. + +"Dislikes Laurence!" he repeated. "Why should she?" + +"She does," persisted Alys, "and Laurence knows it." + +"Well, we'll see. Perhaps Lilias may help us to overcome Mary's +prejudice," said Arthur, with a smile. "And failing Mary, Alys, you +won't be sorry to have Lilias for--for a _sister_--will you, Alys?" + +Alys smiled, and her smile was enough. + +All this happened in spring. Early in the autumn of that same year +Lilias and Arthur were married. They were married at Hathercourt--in +the old church which had seen the bride grow up from a child into a +woman, and had been associated with all the joys and sorrows of her +life--the old church beneath whose walls had lain for many long years +the mortal remains of Arthur Beverley's far-back ancestress, the "Mawde" +who had once been a fair young bride herself. + +"As fair perhaps, as happy and hopeful as Lilias," thought Mary, as her +eyes once more wandered to the well-known tablet on the wall, with a +vague wonder as to what "Mawde" would think of it all could she see the +group now standing before the altar. Then there came before her memory, +like a dream, the thought of the Sunday morning, not, after all, so very +long ago, when the little party of strangers had invaded the quiet +church, and so disturbed her own and her sister's devotions. And again +she seemed to see herself looking up into Mr Cheviott's face in the +porch, while she asked him to come into the Rectory to rest. + +"He smiled so kindly, I remember," thought Mary, "and there was +something in his face that made me feel as if I could trust him. And so +I might have done--ah! how hasty and prejudiced I have been--thank +Heaven, I have injured no one else by my folly, however!" + +And then she repeated to herself a determination she had come to--there +was one thing, be the cost to her pride what it might, that she would +do, and to-day, she said to herself should, if possible, see it done. + +It was a very quiet marriage--for every reason it had seemed best to +have it so. There were the considerations of Mr Western's still +uncertain health, of the mourning in the Brooke family with which that +of Lilias was now identified, of Alys Cheviott's invalid condition, and +even of Captain Beverley's own anomalous position, as still, by his +father's will, a minor, and at present, therefore, far from a wealthy +man, though every hope was now entertained that before long he would be +in legal possession of his own. There were no strangers present--only +the Grevilles and Mrs Brabazon, besides the large group of brothers and +sisters, and Mr Cheviott as "best man," and Lilias and her husband +drove off in no coach and four, but in the quiet little brougham now +added to the Rectory establishment, for Mr Western's benefit +principally, when he was at Hathercourt. For Hathercourt was not to be +deserted, though only a part of the year was now spent there by the +Rector's family, and to the curate, whose services he now could well +afford, was deputed the more active part of the work. They had all been +at Marshover for some months past, and had only returned to Hathercourt +a few weeks before the marriage. + +"I could hardly believe in any family event of great importance +happening to us anywhere else--we seem so identified with our old home. +I like to think I shall end my days here, after all," Mr Western was +saying, with inoffensive egotism, to Mr Cheviott, as they stood +together in the window after the hero and heroine of the day had gone, +when Mary came up and joined them. + +"Yes, father," she said, gently. "I remember your saying so, ever so +long ago. I think," she added, turning to Mr Cheviott, "it was the +afternoon of that Sunday you all drove over to church here--do you +remember?" + +Mr Cheviott smiled slightly. + +"I remember," he said, quietly. "I have never been inside the church +since, till to-day. If it is still open I would like to look round it, +if I may?" turning to Mr Western for permission. + +"It is not open," said Mary, answering for her father, "but I can get +the key in an instant, and, if you like," she went on, considerably to +Mr Cheviott's surprise, "I will go with you." + +He thanked her, and they went. But, before fitting the great key into +the old lock, as they stood once again by themselves in the church +porch, Mary turned to her companion. + +"Mr Cheviott," she said, "I offered to come with you because I wanted +an opportunity for saying something to you that I did not wish any one +else to hear. I have never seen you alone since--since a day several +months ago, when Lilias, by Arthur's wish, explained _everything_ to me, +and I want just to tell you simply, once for all, that I am honestly +ashamed of having misjudged you as I did, and--and--I hope you will +forgive me." + +Mr Cheviott looked at her for a moment without speaking--her face was +slightly flushed, her eyes bright and with a touch of appeal in them-- +half shy, half confident, which carried his thoughts, too, back to the +last time they had stood there together. She looked not unlike what she +had done then, but he--There was no smile in his face as he replied. + +"Thank you," he said. "It is kind and brave of you to say this, but I +cannot say I forgive you. I have nothing to forgive. If I were not +afraid of reviving what to you must be a most unpleasant memory, I would +rather ask if _you_ can forgive _me_ for my much graver offences against +you?" + +"How? What do you mean?" said Mary, startled and chilled a little by +his tone. + +"My inconsideration and presumption are what I refer to," he said. "I +cannot now imagine what came over me to make me say what I did--but you +will forgive and forget, will you not, Miss Western? We are connections +now, you see--it would never do for us to quarrel. I once said--you +remember--that speech is the one which I think I must have been mad to +utter--that in other circumstances, had I had fair play, I _could_ have +succeeded in what I was then insane enough to dream of. _Now_ my +aspirations are surely reasonable enough to deserve success--all I ask +is that you will forget all that passed at that time, and believe that, +in a general way, I am not an infatuated fool." + +Mary had grown deadly pale. She drew herself back against the wall, as +if for support. + +"No," she said, in a hard, constrained tone, "no, that I cannot do. You +ask too much. I can never _forget_." + +Mr Cheviott gazed at her in astonishment. For one instant, for the +shadow of an instant, a gleam darted across his face--_could_ it +be?--_could_ she mean?--he asked himself, but, before his thought had +taken form, Mary dashed it to the ground. + +"I am ashamed of myself for being so easily upset," she said, almost in +her ordinary tone, "but I have had a good deal to tire me lately. We +needn't say any more, Mr Cheviott, about forgiving and forgetting, and +all such sentimental matters. I have made my _amende_, and you have +made yours, and it's all right." + +Mr Cheviott's voice was at its coldest and hardest when he spoke again. + +"As you please," was all he said, and Mary, foolish Mary, turned from +him to hide the scorching tears that were beginning to come, and fumbled +with the key till she succeeded in opening the door. + +"There now," she said, lightly. "I must run home. I don't think you +will require a cicerone for this church, Mr Cheviott," and before he +could reply, she was gone. Gone--to try to smile when she thought her +heart was breaking, to seem cheerful and merry when over and over again +there rang through her brain the cruel words--"He never cared for me, he +says himself it was an infatuation. He is ashamed to remember it; oh +no, he never really cared for me, or else my own words turned his love +into contempt and dislike--and what wonder!" + +Two or three days after Lilias's marriage Mary heard from Alys Cheviott. +She and her brother were leaving England almost immediately, she said, +for several months. The letter was kind and affectionate, but it did +not even allude to the possibility of her seeing Mary before they left. + +"Good-bye, Alys," said Mary, as she folded it up and one or two hot +tears fell in the envelope. "Good-bye, dear Alys; and good-bye to the +prize I threw from me, when it might have been mine--surely the best +chance of happiness that ever woman was offered!" + +CHAPTER THIRTY ONE. + +A FAREWELL VISIT TO ROMARY. + + "He desired in a wife an intellect that, if not equal to his own, + could become so by sympathy--a union of high culture and noble + aspiration, and yet of loving womanly sweetness which a man seldom + finds out of books; and when he does find it perhaps it does not wear + the sort of face that he fancies." + + _The Parisians_. + +The Westerns were not to spend this winter at Marshover. It was too +cold for Mr Western, and so was Hathercourt. A house, therefore, for +the worst of the season had been taken at Bournemouth, and there old Mr +Brooke had promised to spend with them his otherwise solitary Christmas. + +"I'm so glad you are going to Bournemouth," said Mrs Greville one day, +a few weeks after Lilias's marriage, when she had driven over to say +good-bye to her old friends before they left; "it is such a nice +cheerful place, and plenty going on there. Quite a pleasant little +society. It will be an advantage for the girls if, as Mrs Brabazon +tells me, they are to be in town next year." + +"But Alexa and Josephine will not be at Bournemouth except for a week at +Christmas," said Mary. "They will be at school." + +"And Alexa is too young to go out at least for another year," said Mrs +Western. + +"But there is Mary. _You_ are not going to school again, are you, +Mary?" said Mrs Greville, laughingly, turning to her. + +"I almost wish I were!" she replied, "excepting that I should not like +to leave mother. But I shall not go out at all, dear Mrs Greville, +either at Bournemouth or in town. I don't care for society." + +"How can you tell till you have tried?" said her friend. + +"That's just it. I don't know anything at all about it, and I feel too +old to get into the way of it." + +"Mary!" exclaimed Mrs Greville; "what an idea! At one-and-twenty," and +even Mrs Western looked slightly surprised. + +"I can understand your thinking you will never care for things of the +kind _much_, and I dare say you never will," Mary's mother observed. +"But if not for your own, it _may_ for others' sakes--for your younger +sisters'--be necessary for you to go a little into society." + +"Ah, well--not at present, any way, and possibly never," said Mary. +"Alexa would make a much better Miss Western than I." + +Mrs Greville smiled. + +"Are you tired of your honours already, Mary?" she said. "Well, who +knows!" + +"I didn't mea--" began Mary, flushing slightly, "besides, it has +_always_ been settled that I was the old maid of the family." + +"Nonsense," said Mrs Greville. "That reminds me, you will find some +old friends at Bournemouth--the Morpeths; you don't know, Mary, what an +impression you made on Vance Morpeth." + +Mary looked annoyed. "That boy!" she exclaimed, hastily, "my dear Mrs +Greville--" + +"He isn't a boy--he is five-and-twenty," interrupted Mrs Greville, +slightly ruffled. "Of course I don't mean to say that _now_, with your +present prospects you might not be justified in--well, to use a common +phrase, though not a very refined one, in `looking higher'." + +"Dear Mrs Greville!" exclaimed both Mary and her mother together. +"_Don't_ say things like that, _please_," Mary went on. "You don't +really think that I would be influenced by that kind of consideration?-- +you don't think so poorly of me?" + +"No, my dear, I do not. I think you and all of you a great deal too +unworldly; I wish, for your own sakes, you _were_ a little more +influenced by considerations of that kind," said Mrs Greville, nodding +her head sagaciously, and just then, some one calling Mrs Western from +the room, she went on in a lower voice, "Why are you so desperately cold +to Mr Cheviott, my dear? Do you really dislike him so hopelessly?" + +"Who said I disliked him?" exclaimed Mary, sharply, and the slight extra +colour on her cheeks deepened now into hot, angry crimson. + +"My dear! Don't be so fierce. Surely you can't have forgotten all the +things you _yourself_ said against him. Why, you would not even go to +see through Romary till I coaxed you into it--just because it was _his_ +house. I assure you your aversion to him became quite a joke among us-- +Vance Morpeth always speaks of him as your _bete noire_." + +Mary was silent. What else could she be? + +"I only wish you had _not_ expressed your dislike to or before me," +continued Mrs Greville. "I should have been only too glad to have been +able to say that _I_ had never heard of it when Alys Cheviott told me +how it had distressed and disappointed her." + +"Did _Alys_ speak of it?" said Mary, surprised and a little annoyed. + +"Yes, to me--not to any one else. You need not be indignant at it, +Mary. It came about quite naturally. You know I have seen a good deal +of her this summer while you were all at Marshover. She seemed to like +my going over there, and she has been very lonely, poor girl. That aunt +of hers is such a goose! And one day she was asking me all about you, +and she added quite naturally how much she wished you would sometimes go +to see her." + +"But I was away," pleaded Mary, not quite honestly. + +"Yes, just then; but you had been at home quite long enough to go if you +had wished, and that was Alys's disappointment. She told me that almost +her first thought, when everything was cleared up between Lilias and +Captain Beverley, was, `And now I shall be able to see Mary,' thinking, +of course, that when you understood that Mr Cheviott's dread had been +altogether unselfish--fear of Arthur's ruining himself by disobeying the +will--you would at once lose your dislike to him." + +"And what does she now think?" asked Mary. + +"She doesn't know what to think. She fears that in some way Mr +Cheviott has so deeply offended you that your dislike--prejudice-- +whatever it is--to him, is incurable." + +Again, for a moment, Mary was silent. Then she said, hesitatingly. + +"Has she--do you think, Mrs Greville--said anything of this to Mr +Cheviott?" + +"I don't know," said Mrs Greville. "But of course, my dear Mary, you +cannot pretend to be so modest as to fancy that your staying away from +them--from Alys, at least--in this marked way, cannot have attracted +attention. After the service you did them--the great obligation you put +them under to you, and Alys's constantly expressed affection and +gratitude--your refusing to go to her, when she _couldn't_ come to you, +was a very strong measure. And, to speak plainly, unless you had the +very strongest reasons for it, I think it was very unkind to that poor +girl." + +Mary, for some little time past, had been believing her punishment +complete. Now, as Mrs Greville spoke, she realised that it had not +been so. She _had_ been cruel to Alys; she had allowed her own +feelings--her mortification at the past, her proud terror of possible +misapprehension in the future--to override what was the clearest and +plainest of duties. "I am not worthy to be called a friend," she said +to herself, and tears filled her eyes as she turned to Mrs Greville. + +"Thank you," she said, gently, "for what you have said. It will not +have been in vain." + +And Mrs Greville kissed and told her if she were proud and prejudiced, +she was also honest and magnanimous. And then the good lady drove +herself home in her pony-carriage with a comfortable feeling of +self-satisfaction, and a vague, not unpleasing suspicion that she +_might_ turn out to have been a sort of "_Deus ex machina_," or +"benevolent fairy god-mother, we'll say," she added to herself, not +feeling quite sure of the Latin of the first phrase, or that it did not +savour a little of profanity, "just to give a little shove to affairs at +the right moment." + +All day Mary thought and thought over what she should do. Could she get +to see Alys, now at the eleventh hour, for the Cheviotts, if they had +not already done so, must be on the eve of quitting Romary for the +winter? Should she write to Mrs Greville and ask her to convey some +message? Should she--so many months had passed since she had seen Alys +that a little further delay could be of small consequence--should she +wait for an opportunity of seeing Lilias, and asking _her_ to explain? +To explain what, and how? Ah! no. Explanation of any kind was +impossible, and the necessity for it she had nothing but her own foolish +conduct to thank for. At last--"I will attempt no explanation, no +excuse, or palliation," she decided, "Alys is generosity itself. I will +trust her by asking her to trust me." And that same evening she wrote +to her a few simple words, which she felt to be all she _could_ say. + + "My dear Alys," she said, "will you forgive me? I see now that I have + made a grievous mistake, done a wrong and cruel thing in never going + to see you all this time. This knowledge has come to me suddenly and + startlingly, and I cannot rest till I write to you. I cannot explain + to you what has distorted my way of seeing things, but I ask you to + forgive me, and to believe that, selfishly and unkindly as I have + acted, there has not been a day, scarcely an hour, since we were + together in which I have not thought of you. + + "Yours affectionately,-- + + "Mary Western." + +And when this letter was written and sent, Mary felt happier than she +had done for a long time. Was it all "the reward of a good conscience?" +Was there not deep down, unrecognised, in a corner of her "inner +consciousness," wherever that debatable land may be, a hope, a +possibility of a hope rather, that Mrs Greville's statement, to some +extent, explained the change in Mr Cheviott's manner? What if Alys, +after all, had been the innocent marplot--suggesting to her brother in +her disappointment that the "all coming right" of Lilias's affairs had +not resulted in a complete change of attitude on Mary's part; that her +dislike to him must be even deeper founded than could be explained by +her misjudgment of his conduct towards her sister? What if they had +both been at cross-purposes--each attributing to the other a prejudice +that no longer existed--which, indeed, Mary had done nothing to remove +his belief in on her part--which, as existing on his side towards her, +she had imagined to have yielded temporarily to what he himself had +described as an "infatuation," but to return with tenfold strength? + +All this she did not say to herself in distinct words, but the +suggestion had taken root in her heart, and was not to be dislodged. +And though days grew into weeks before there came from Alys an answer to +her letter, Mary went about through those weeks with lightened steps and +hopeful eyes. She could not distrust Alys, she told herself; and her +mother, seeing her so cheerful, congratulated herself that Mary was +"getting over" the loss of Lilias, which she had been beginning to fear +had greatly depressed her. + +Alys's letter, when it did come, was all that Mary had expected and +more, much more than she felt herself to have deserved. + +"I will not ask you to explain anything," wrote Alys, "I am more than +satisfied. I cannot tell you what a change it makes in my life to be +able to look forward to seeing you as much and as often as you can be +spared to me. It will help me to be patient, and to try to get strong +again. I am likely to be much alone when we return to England, for +Laurence is thinking of letting Romary and taking a house for me +somewhere not very far from town. He seems to have taken a dislike to a +country life, and says he thinks he would be better if he had `more to +do.' I cannot agree with him that such a thing is possible, for I have +never known him idle for half an hour." + +Mary gave a little sigh as she folded up the letter--that was all. And +soon after came on the time for the family move to Bournemouth, and with +a strange feeling of regret she again said good-bye to Hathercourt. + +The winter passed, uneventfully enough on the whole. There was a flying +visit from Lilias and her husband on their way back from Italy to the +small country-house that was to be their home for the next two years; +there were old Mr Brooke and Mrs Brabazon and the two schoolgirls, +Alexa and Josey, for Christmas; there were, for Mary, very occasional +glimpses of Bournemouth society; but with these exceptions her daily +life was what many girls of her age would have considered very +monotonous. She did not seem to find it so, however; she appeared, +indeed, what Lilias called so "aggravatingly contented" that she owned +to Arthur, with a sigh, that, after all, she greatly feared that the +family prophecy about Mary was going to turn out true. + +"At one-and-twenty," she said, lugubriously, "she really seems to be +steadily developing into an old maid." + +"Wait a little," said Arthur. "Mrs Brabazon is determined to have her +in town for some weeks. There is still hope of Mary's proving to be not +altogether superior to youthful vanities and frivolities." + +"Very little, I fear," said Lilias, half smiling, half provoked. + +Mrs Brabazon had her way--Mary did go to town, and, after her own +fashion, enjoyed herself. She was generally liked, in some cases +specially admired, but that was all. She gently repulsed all approach +to anything more, and, though grateful to Mrs Brabazon, perplexed her +by her calm equability in the midst of a life novel and exciting enough +to have turned a less philosophical young head. If, indeed, it were +"all philosophy," thought Mary's shrewd cousin, and not, to some extent, +preoccupation? + +One day towards the end of April--Mary had been six weeks in town--there +came a letter from Bournemouth, asking her, if possible, to go to +Hathercourt for a day or two, to make some arrangements preparatory to +Mr and Mrs Western's return there, "which," wrote her mother, "no one +but you, dear Mary, can see to satisfactorily, sorry as I am to +interrupt your pleasant visit." + +Mrs Brabazon was somewhat put out. She had two or three specially +desirable engagements for the next few days; but, though Mary heartily +expressed her regret at the summons being, from her hostess's point of +view, thus ill-timed, she owned to herself rather enjoying the prospect +than otherwise. + +"I am an incurable _country_ cousin, dear Mrs Brabazon," she said; "you +will have more satisfaction in every way with Alexa, if you are kind +enough to take charge of her next year." + +"And where do _you_ intend to be then?" said Mrs Brabazon, amused, in +spite of herself, at Mary's tone. + +"I shall have retired to my own corner. I have always been told I +should be an old maid," said Mary, laughingly. + +And two days later found her at Uxley. She was not to stay at +Hathercourt, the Rectory being just released from the hands of painters +and decorators, and unfit for habitation, and Mrs Greville delighted to +seize the chance of a visit from one of her old favourites. + +The day before that fixed for Mary's return to town Mrs Greville came +into the drawing-room with a note in her hand. + +"You have quite finished at Hathercourt, you are sure?" she said, "you +don't need to go over again?" + +"Oh, no, thank you," said Mary, "there is nothing more for me to do. I +am _quite_ at your disposal for the rest of my time. Is there anything +you want to do this afternoon?" + +"Nothing much--only to drive over to Romary," said Mrs Greville. "I +have a note from poor old Mrs Golding, saying that she would be so +thankful to see me. She is really ill, and quite upset with the idea of +leaving Romary. She has only just heard definitely from Mr Cheviott +about it, as she kept hoping he would change his mind." + +"Shall I not be in the way if I come with you? I don't in the least +mind staying alone," said Mary, diplomatically. + +"Oh dear, no!" replied Mrs Greville, who had not perceived the slight +shadow that had stolen across Mary's face at the mention of Romary, "the +fact is I _want_ you, for the boy cannot come this afternoon, and I +don't like driving quite so far alone." + +Mary resigned herself with outside cheerfulness, but some inward +misgiving. + +"I would rather never have gone near Romary again," she said to herself; +"however, I need not go into the house, and it will be a sort of +good-bye to the place, and with it a great deal besides." + +For of late she had grown less hopeful. Alys had written once again, +and to this second letter Mary had replied. But that was months ago, +and she had heard no more; and, though nothing could make her distrust +Alys's affection, she was beginning to fear that their gradually +drifting apart was unavoidable. + +"Thinking of me as her brother does," said Mary to herself, "it is not +possible that she and I can have much intercourse. It was insane of me +to hope for it." + +When Mrs Greville's pony-carriage drove up to the house, Mary asked +leave to stay outside. + +"I shall be quite happy wandering about by myself," she said, "and Mrs +Golding will prefer seeing you without a stranger. How long shall you +be--an hour?" + +"Possibly two," replied Mrs Greville, laughing, "there is no getting +away from the old body sometimes. And as I shall not see her many more +times I should like to pay her a good long visit." + +"Don't hurry, then," said Mary. "I shall be all right." + +It was a very lovely day. Romary looked to much greater advantage than +the last time Mary had been there. It had then been mid-winter to all +intents and purposes, at least as far as the trees and the grass were +concerned. Now it was the most suggestively beautiful season of the +year--spring-time far enough advanced to have much perfection of +loveliness of its own, besides the rich promise of greater things yet to +come. Mary had not before realised how pretty Romary was. + +"I wonder they can think of leaving it," she said to herself, half +sadly. She had sauntered round the west front of the house, along a +terrace overlooking a sort of Italian garden, when, turning suddenly +another corner, she came upon a well-remembered scene--the thick-growing +shrubbery through which ran the foot-path leading to the private +entrance near the haunted room. With a curious mixture of feelings Mary +stood still for a moment, recalling with a strange fascination the +sensations with which she had last hurried along the little path. Then +she slowly walked on. + +Bright as the day was, it seemed dusk in the shrubbery. + +"It is really a rather creepy place," thought Mary, "one might expect to +meet any kind of ghost hereabouts." + +And as if the thought had conjured up some corroboration of her words, +at that moment in the narrow vista of the path before her there appeared +a figure approaching in her direction. For one instant Mary started +with a half-thrill of nervous apprehension--was she really the victim of +some delusion of her own fancy?--then she looked again to feel but +increased bewilderment as she more clearly recognised the figure. How +_could_ it be Mr Cheviott? Was he not most certainly still at Hyeres? +Had not Mrs Greville told her so that very morning? + +There was just this one flaw in her argument--the person now rapidly +nearing her _was_ Mr Cheviott! And when Mary became convinced of this +her first sensation of amazement gave way to scarcely less perplexing +annoyance and vexation at being again met by him as an uninvited +intruder on his own domain. + +"_Was_ there _ever_ anything so awkward?" thought Mary, "was ever any +one so unlucky as I?" she repeated, proudly stifling the quick flash of +gladness at meeting him again anywhere, under any circumstances. And so +overwhelmed was she by her own exaggerated self-consciousness that when +in another moment with outstretched hand he stood before her, she did +not even notice the bright look of pleasure that lighted up his face, or +hear the one word, "_Mary_!" with which he met her. + +Whether she shook hands or not she did not know. She felt only that her +heart was beating to suffocation, and her face crimson as she exclaimed +confusedly: + +"Mr Cheviott! I had not the least idea you were here--in England even. +I only came over with Mrs Greville--I am so vexed--so ashamed--If I +had had any idea--" Then she stopped, feeling as if she had only made +bad worse. Mr Cheviott looked at her. + +"If you had had any idea I was anywhere near here you would have flown +to the Land's End or John o' Groat's House to avoid me--is that it?" he +said, and whether he spoke bitterly or in half jest to cover some +underlying feeling, Mary really could not tell. She turned away her +head and did not speak. + +"If he takes that tone," she said to herself, "I shall--I don't know +what I shall do." + +"Won't you answer me? Mary you _must_," he said, passionately, facing +round upon her--half unconsciously she had walked on, and he had kept +abreast of her--and taking both her hands in his--"do you hate me, Mary, +or do you not?" he said. "I am not a proud man, you see, or else my +love for you has cast out my pride; perhaps you will despise me for it, +for a _second_ time daring to--but I made up my mind to it. I came back +to England on purpose to be _sure_. At least, you must see that my love +is no light matter, and--oh! child, tell me--_do_ you hate me? Look up +and tell me." + +He had changed his tone to one of such earnest appeal that Mary trembled +as he spoke. But when she tried to look up her eyes filled with tears, +and the words she wanted would not come. + +"_Hate_ you?" was all she could say. + +But it was enough. He looked at her as if he could hardly believe his +eyes. + +"Do you mean to say--_Mary_--do you mean that you _love_ me? And all +this time--" + +A smile broke through her tears. + +"Can't you believe it?" she said. "At least, you may absolve me from +having ever told you anything but the plain truth as to my feelings +towards you," she added. Then he, too, smiled. + +"But," she added, "the last time we met, you yourself called it an +`infatuation.' I thought you had grown ashamed of it." + +"Ashamed of it," he repeated, "ashamed of loving you? My darling! +Ashamed of my reckless inconsideration for your feelings?--yes, I had +reason to be _that_. And an infatuation it certainly did seem, to +believe that there was any possibility of your ever learning to care for +me, for there were all those months of disappointment after my conduct +in that wretched complication had been cleared up, and day by day Alys +hoped, and I hoped, for some sign from you. And then what you said to +me the day of the marriage I looked upon as merely wrung from you by +your brave conscientiousness--that made you feel your acknowledgment of +mistake was due even to me. Do you see?" + +"Yes," said Mary; "but," she added, shyly, "what made you change?" + +"Your letter to Alys partly; by-the-bye, you have to tell me how _you_ +came to change so as to write it? And then--I don't know how it was--I +felt my case so desperate; I had nothing to lose, and oh, Mary, what an +inestimable possibility to gain! I made up my mind to try once more, +and as soon as I could leave Alys I came home, never hoping, however, to +see you here--in the very lion's den!" + +"Does Alys know why you came?" + +"No, I would never have told her, or any one, had I failed. But to +think that I have won!--Mary, I never before in all my life dreamed of +such happiness. I have everything that makes life worth having given to +me in you. And, do you know," he added, with a sort of boyish +_naivete_, "I don't think I ever realised how wonderfully pretty you +are? What have you been doing to yourself?" + +Mary laughed--a happy, heartful laugh that fully vindicated the +youthfulness she had begun to believe a thing of the past. She was not +above feeling delight at _his_ thinking her pretty. + +"It is your eyes, I think," he said. "They were always nice, sweet, +honest eyes, but now something else has come into them. What is it?" + +"Guess," whispered Mary. "I don't think it was there this morning." + +"It wasn't your beauty I ever thought the most of," he said. "It +reminds me of something I read the other day, that when a man _does_ And +his ideal it is sure `not to wear the face he fancies.' But I have got +it _all_, face too!" + +"And now," said Mary, "please go away. I am sure Mrs Greville is +ready, and I don't want to keep her waiting." + +Mr Cheviott's countenance fell. + +"Mayn't I come with you to meet her? Won't you tell her?" he said. + +"Not before _you_!" said Mary, laughing. "But I will tell her--I should +like to tell some one," she added, girlishly. + +"And when can I see you?" + +"To-morrow morning. Come to Uxley early if you can. I am not leaving +till the afternoon. And then we can fix about--about your going to see +them at Bournemouth, and all that." + +"But _I_ would like to tell some one, too, this very minute, at once, +and I have no one. What shall I do?" he said, ruefully. + +"Tell Mrs Golding," said Mary, mischievously, and before he could stop +her, she had turned and was running at full speed along the shrubbery +path, back to the front of the house, where, sure enough, Mrs Greville +and the pony-carriage were waiting. + +Ten minutes after, Mr Cheviott entered the old housekeeper's room. + +"Mrs Golding," he said, "I am not so sure that I _shall_ let Romary +after all!" + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +The End. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Hathercourt, by Mrs Molesworth + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 43168 *** |