diff options
| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:24:31 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:24:31 -0700 |
| commit | 57e0f2a84689275495360ed60dc55c57916fd23b (patch) | |
| tree | 1159427755abb69103d60a414b193a50d8ba7cae /4944-h/4944-h.htm | |
Diffstat (limited to '4944-h/4944-h.htm')
| -rw-r--r-- | 4944-h/4944-h.htm | 10702 |
1 files changed, 10702 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/4944-h/4944-h.htm b/4944-h/4944-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9ac6476 --- /dev/null +++ b/4944-h/4944-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10702 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" /> +<title>Scenes and Characters, by Charlotte M. Yonge</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + P { margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + P.gutsumm { margin-left: 5%;} + P.poetry {margin-left: 3%; } + .GutSmall { font-size: 0.7em; } + H1, H2 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + } + H3, H4, H5 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + BODY{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + table { border-collapse: collapse; } +table {margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto;} + td { vertical-align: top; border: 1px solid black;} + td p { margin: 0.2em; } + .blkquot {margin-left: 4em; margin-right: 4em;} /* block indent */ + + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .pagenum {position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: small; + text-align: right; + font-weight: normal; + color: gray; + } + img { border: none; } + img.dc { float: left; width: 50px; height: 50px; } + p.gutindent { margin-left: 2em; } + div.gapspace { height: 0.8em; } + div.gapline { height: 0.8em; width: 100%; border-top: 1px solid;} + div.gapmediumline { height: 0.3em; width: 40%; margin-left:30%; + border-top: 1px solid; } + div.gapmediumdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 40%; margin-left:30%; + border-top: 1px solid; border-bottom: 1px solid;} + div.gapshortdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 20%; + margin-left: 40%; border-top: 1px solid; + border-bottom: 1px solid; } + div.gapdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 50%; + margin-left: 25%; border-top: 1px solid; + border-bottom: 1px solid;} + div.gapshortline { height: 0.3em; width: 20%; margin-left:40%; + border-top: 1px solid; } + .citation {vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: none;} + img.floatleft { float: left; + margin-right: 1em; + margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; } + img.floatright { float: right; + margin-left: 1em; margin-top: 0.5em; + margin-bottom: 0.5em; } + img.clearcenter {display: block; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0.5em; + margin-bottom: 0.5em} + --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Scenes and Characters, by Charlotte M. Yonge, +Illustrated by W. J. Hennessy + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most +other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of +the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have +to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. + + + + +Title: Scenes and Characters + or, Eighteen Months at Beechcroft + + +Author: Charlotte M. Yonge + + + +Release Date: January 16, 2015 [eBook #4944] +[This file was first posted on April 2, 2002] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SCENES AND CHARACTERS*** +</pre> +<p>Transcribed from the 1889 Macmillan and Co. edition by David +Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/fpb.jpg"> +<img alt= +"She visited the village school.—p. 38" +title= +"She visited the village school.—p. 38" + src="images/fps.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<h1>SCENES AND CHARACTERS,<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">OR,</span><br /> +Eighteen Months at Beechcroft</h1> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">BY</span><br +/> +CHARLOTTE M. YOUNGE<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">AUTHOR OF ‘THE HEIR OF +REDCLYFFE,’ ‘THE TWO GUARDIANS,’ +ETC.</span></p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/tpb.jpg"> +<img alt= +"‘Yes, Miss, Dick Rood is a sad fellow.’—p. 41" +title= +"‘Yes, Miss, Dick Rood is a sad fellow.’—p. 41" + src="images/tps.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall"><i>FIFTH +EDITION</i></span></p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">ILLUSTRATED +BY W. J. HENNESSY</span></p> +<p style="text-align: center"><b>London</b><br /> +MACMILLAN AND CO.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">AND NEW YORK</span><br /> +1889</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall"><i>All +rights reserved</i></span></p> +<h2><a name="pagev"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +v</span>PREFACE</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Of</span> those who are invited to pay a +visit to Beechcroft, there are some who, honestly acknowledging +that amusement is their object, will be content to feel with +Lilias, conjecture with Jane, and get into scrapes with Phyllis, +without troubling themselves to extract any moral from their +proceedings; and to these the Mohun family would only apologise +for having led a very humdrum life during the eighteen months +spent in their company.</p> +<p>There may, however, be more unreasonable visitors, who, +professing only to come as parents and guardians, expect +entertainment for themselves, as well as instruction for those +who had rather it was out of sight,—look for antiques in +carved cherry-stones,—and require plot, incident, and +catastrophe in a chronicle of small beer.</p> +<p>To these the Mohuns beg respectfully to observe, that they +hope their examples may not be altogether <a +name="pagevi"></a><span class="pagenum">p. vi</span>devoid of +indirect instruction; and lest it should be supposed that they +lived without object, aim, or principle, they would observe that +the maxim which has influenced the delineation of the different +<i>Scenes and Characters</i> is, that feeling, unguided and +unrestrained, soon becomes mere selfishness; while the simple +endeavour to fulfil each immediate claim of duty may lead to the +highest acts of self-devotion.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">New Court</span>, <span +class="smcap">Beechcroft</span>,<br /> + 18th +<i>January</i>.</p> +<h2><a name="pagevii"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +vii</span>PREFACE (1886)</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Perhaps</span> this book is an instance to +be adduced in support of the advice I have often given to young +authors—not to print before they themselves are old enough +to do justice to their freshest ideas.</p> +<p>Not that I can lay claim to its being a production of tender +and interesting youth. It was my second actual publication, +and I believe I was of age before it appeared—but I see now +the failures that more experience might have enabled me to avoid; +and I would not again have given it to the world if the same +characters recurring in another story had not excited a certain +desire to see their first start.</p> +<p>In fact they have been more or less my life-long +companions. An almost solitary child, with periodical +visits to the Elysium of a large family, it was natural to dream +of other children and their ways and sports till they became +almost realities. They took shape when my French master set +me to write letters for him. The letters gradually became +conversation and <a name="pageviii"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +viii</span>narrative, and the adventures of the family sweetened +the toils of French composition. In the exigencies of +village school building in those days gone by, before in every +place</p> +<blockquote><p>“It there behoved him to set up the standard +of her Grace,”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>the tale was actually printed for private sale, as a link +between translations of short stories.</p> +<p>This process only stifled the family in my imagination for a +time. They awoke once more with new names, but +substantially the same, and were my companions in many a solitary +walk, the results of which were scribbled down in leisure moments +to be poured into my mother’s ever patient and sympathetic +ears.</p> +<p>And then came the impulse to literature for young people given +by the example of that memorable book the <i>Fairy Bower</i>, and +followed up by <i>Amy Herbert</i>. It was felt that elder +children needed something of a deeper tone than the Edgeworthian +style, yet less directly religious than the Sherwood class of +books; and on that wave of opinion, my little craft floated out +into the great sea of the public.</p> +<p>Friends, whose kindness astonished me, and fills me with +gratitude when I look back on it, gave me seasonable criticism +and pruning, and finally launched me. My heroes and +heroines had arranged themselves so as to work out a definite +principle, and this was enough for us all.</p> +<p><a name="pageix"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +ix</span>Children’s books had not been supposed to require +a plot. Miss Edgeworth’s, which I still continue to +think gems in their own line, are made chronicles, or, more +truly, illustrations of various truths worked out upon the same +personages. Moreover, the skill of a Jane Austen or a Mrs. +Gaskell is required to produce a perfect plot without doing +violence to the ordinary events of an every-day life. It is +all a matter of arrangement. Mrs. Gaskell can make a +perfect little plot out of a sick lad and a canary bird; and +another can do nothing with half a dozen murders and an +explosion; and of arranging my materials so as to build up a +story, I was quite incapable. It is still my great +deficiency; but in those days I did not even understand that the +attempt was desirable. Criticism was a more thorough thing +in those times than it has since become through the multiplicity +of books to be hurried over, and it was often very useful, as +when it taught that such arrangement of incident was the means of +developing the leading idea.</p> +<p>Yet, with all its faults, the children, who had been real to +me, caught, chiefly by the youthful sense of fun and enjoyment, +the attention of other children; and the curious semi-belief one +has in the phantoms of one’s brain made me dwell on their +after life and share my discoveries with my friends, not, +however, writing them down till after the lapse of all these +years the <a name="pagex"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +x</span>tenderness inspired by associations of early days led to +taking up once more the old characters in <i>The Two Sides of the +Shield</i>; and the kind welcome this has met with has led to the +resuscitation of the crude and inexperienced tale which never +pretended to be more than a mere family chronicle.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">C. M. YONGE.</p> +<p>6<i>th</i> <i>October</i> 1886.</p> +<h2><a name="pagexi"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +xi</span>CONTENTS</h2> +<table> +<tr> +<td><p> </p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="GutSmall">PAGE</span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER I</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Elder Sister</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page1">1</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER II</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The New Court</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page6">6</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER III</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The New Principle</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page15">15</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER IV</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Honest Phyl</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page26">26</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER V</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Village Gossip</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page35">35</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER VI</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The New Friend</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page52">52</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER VII</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Sir Maurice</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page61">61</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER VIII</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Brothers</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page78">78</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center"><a +name="pagexii"></a><span class="pagenum">p. xii</span>CHAPTER +IX</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Wasp</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page101">101</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER X</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Cousin Rotherwood</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page109">109</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XI</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Dancing</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page123">123</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XII</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Fever</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page131">131</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XIII</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">A Curiosity Map</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page143">143</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XIV</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Christmas</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page155">155</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XV</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Minor Misfortunes</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page167">167</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XVI</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Vanity and Vexation</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page186">186</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XVII</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Little Agnes</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page198">198</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XVIII</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Double, Double Toil and +Trouble</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page208">208</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center"><a +name="pagexiii"></a><span class="pagenum">p. xiii</span>CHAPTER +XIX</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Rector’s Illness</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page222">222</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XX</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Little Nephew</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page227">227</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XXI</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Charity Begins at Home</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page235">235</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XXII</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Baronial Court</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page249">249</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XXIII</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Joys and Sorrows</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page256">256</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XXIV</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Love’s Labour Lost</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page264">264</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XXV</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Thirtieth of July</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page277">277</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XXVI</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Crisis</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page297">297</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XXVII</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Conclusion</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page313">313</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> +<h2><a name="page1"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 1</span>CHAPTER +I<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE ELDER SISTER</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘Return, and in the daily round<br /> + Of duty and of love,<br /> +Thou best wilt find that patient faith<br /> + That lifts the soul above.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">Eleanor Mohun</span> was the eldest child +of a gentleman of old family, and good property, who had married +the sister of his friend and neighbour, the Marquis of +Rotherwood. The first years of her life were marked by few +events. She was a quiet, steady, useful girl, finding her +chief pleasure in nursing and teaching her brothers and sisters, +and her chief annoyance in her mamma’s attempts to make her +a fine lady; but before she had reached her nineteenth year she +had learnt to know real anxiety and sorrow. Her mother, +after suffering much from grief at the loss of her two brothers, +fell into so alarming a state of health, that her husband was +obliged immediately to hurry her away to Italy, leaving the +younger children under the care of a governess, and the elder +boys at school, while Eleanor alone accompanied them.</p> +<p>Their absence lasted nearly three years, and during the last +winter, an engagement commenced between Eleanor and Mr. Francis +Hawkesworth, rather to the surprise of Lady Emily, who wondered +that he had been able to discover the real worth veiled beneath a +formal and retiring manner, and to admire features which, though +regular, had a want of light and animation, which diminished +their beauty even more than the thinness and compression of the +lips, and the very pale gray of the eyes.</p> +<p>The family were about to return to England, where the marriage +was to take place, when Lady Emily was attacked with a sudden +illness, which her weakened frame was unable to resist, and in a +very few days she died, leaving the little Adeline, about eight +months old, to accompany her father and sister on their +melancholy journey homewards. This loss made a great change +in the views of Eleanor, who, as she considered the cares and +annoyances which would fall on her father, when left to bear the +whole burthen of the management of the children and household, +felt it was her duty to give up her own prospects of happiness, +and to remain at home. How could she leave the tender +little ones to the care of servants—trust her sisters to a +governess, and make her brothers’ home yet more +dreary? She knew her father to be strong in sense and firm +in judgment, but indolent, indulgent, and inattentive to details, +and she could not bear to leave him to be harassed by the petty +cares of a numerous family, especially when broken in spirits and +weighed down with sorrow. She thought her duty was plain, +and, accordingly, she wrote to Mr. Hawkesworth, to beg him to +allow her to withdraw her promise.</p> +<p>Her brother Henry was the only person who knew what she had +done, and he alone perceived something of tremulousness about her +in the midst of the even cheerfulness with which she had from the +first supported her father’s spirits. Mr. Mohun, +however, did not long remain in ignorance, for Frank Hawkesworth +himself arrived at Beechcroft to plead his cause with +Eleanor. He knew her value too well to give her up, and Mr. +Mohun would not hear of her making such a sacrifice for his +sake. But Eleanor was also firm, and after weeks of +unhappiness and uncertainty, it was at length arranged that she +should remain at home till Emily was old enough to take her +place, and that Frank should then return from India and claim his +bride.</p> +<p>Well did she discharge the duties which she had undertaken; +she kept her father’s mind at ease, followed out his views, +managed the boys with discretion and gentleness, and made her +sisters well-informed and accomplished girls; but, for want of +fully understanding the characters of her two next sisters, Emily +and Lilias, she made some mistakes with regard to them. The +clouds of sorrow, to her so dark and heavy, had been to them but +morning mists, and the four years which had changed her from a +happy girl into a thoughtful, anxious woman, had brought them to +an age which, if it is full of the follies of childhood, also +partakes of the earnestness of youth; an age when deep +foundations of enduring confidence may be laid by one who can +enter into and direct the deeper flow of mind and feeling which +lurks hid beneath the freaks and fancies of the early years of +girlhood. But Eleanor had little sympathy for freaks and +fancies. She knew the realities of life too well to build +airy castles with younger and gayer spirits; her sisters’ +romance seemed to her dangerous folly, and their lively nonsense +levity and frivolity. They were too childish to share in +her confidence, and she was too busy and too much preoccupied to +have ear or mind for visionary trifles, though to trifles of real +life she paid no small degree of attention.</p> +<p>It might have been otherwise had Henry Mohun lived; but in the +midst of the affection of all who knew him, honour from those who +could appreciate his noble character, and triumphs gained by his +uncommon talents, he was cut off by a short illness, when not +quite nineteen, a most grievous loss to his family, and above +all, to Eleanor. Unlike her, as he was joyous, +high-spirited, full of fun, and overflowing with imagination and +poetry, there was a very close bond of union between them, in the +strong sense of duty, the firmness of purpose, and energy of mind +which both possessed, and which made Eleanor feel perfect +reliance on him, and look up to him with earnest +admiration. With him alone she was unreserved; he was the +only person who could ever make her show a spark of liveliness, +and on his death, it was only with the most painful efforts that +she could maintain her composed demeanour and fulfil her daily +duties. Years passed on, and still she felt the blank which +Harry had left, almost as much as the first day that she heard of +his death, but she never spoke of him, and to her sisters it +seemed as if he was forgotten. The reserve which had begun +to thaw under his influence, again returning, placed her a still +greater distance from the younger girls, and unconsciously she +became still more of a governess and less of a sister. +Little did she know of the ‘blissful dreams in secret +shared’ between Emily, Lilias, and their brother Claude, +and little did she perceive the danger that Lilias would be run +away with by a lively imagination, repressed and starved, but +entirely untrained.</p> +<p>Whatever influenced Lilias, had, through her, nearly the same +effect upon Emily, a gentle girl, easily led, especially by +Lilias, whom she regarded with the fondest affection and +admiration. The perils of fancy and romance were not, +however, to be dreaded for Jane, the fourth sister, a strong +resemblance of Eleanor in her clear common sense, love of +neatness, and active usefulness; but there were other dangers for +her, in her tendency to faults, which, under wise training, had +not yet developed themselves.</p> +<p>Such were the three girls who were now left to assist each +other in the management of the household, and who looked forward +to their new offices with the various sensations of pleasure, +anxiety, self-importance, and self-mistrust, suited to their +differing characters, and to the ages of eighteen, sixteen, and +fourteen.</p> +<h2><a name="page6"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 6</span>CHAPTER +II<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE NEW COURT</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘Just at the age ’twixt boy and +youth,<br /> +When thought is speech, and speech is truth.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> long-delayed wedding took place +on the 13th of January, 1845, and the bride and bridegroom +immediately departed for a year’s visit among Mr. +Hawkesworth’s relations in Northumberland, whence they were +to return to Beechcroft, merely for a farewell, before sailing +for India.</p> +<p>It was half-past nine in the evening, and the wedding +over—Mr. and Mrs. Hawkesworth gone, and the guests +departed, the drawing-room had returned to its usual state. +It was a very large room, so spacious that it would have been +waste and desolate, had it not been well filled with handsome, +but heavy old-fashioned furniture, covered with crimson damask, +and one side of the room fitted up with a bookcase, so high that +there was a spiral flight of library steps to give access to the +upper shelves. Opposite were four large windows, now hidden +by their ample curtains; and near them was at one end of the room +a piano, at the other a drawing-desk. The walls were +wainscoted with polished black oak, the panels reflecting the red +fire-light like mirrors. Over the chimney-piece hung a +portrait, by Vandyke, of a pale, dark cavalier, of noble mien, +and with arched eyebrows, called by Lilias, in defiance of dates, +by the name of Sir Maurice de Mohun, the hero of the family, and +allowed by every one to be a striking likeness of Claude, the +youth who at that moment lay, extending a somewhat superfluous +length of limb upon the sofa, which was placed commodiously at +right angles to the fire.</p> +<p>The other side of the fire was Mr. Mohun’s special +domain, and there he sat at his writing-table, abstracted by +deafness and letter writing, from the various sounds of mirth and +nonsense, which proceeded from the party round the long narrow +sofa table, which they had drawn across the front of the fire, +leaving the large round centre table in darkness and +oblivion.</p> +<p>This party had within the last half hour been somewhat +thinned; the three younger girls had gone to bed, the Rector of +Beechcroft, Mr. Robert Devereux, had been called home to attend +some parish business, and there remained Emily and +Lilias—tall graceful girls, with soft hazel eyes, clear +dark complexions, and a quantity of long brown curls. The +latter was busily completing a guard for the watch, which Mr. +Hawkesworth had presented to Reginald, a fine handsome boy of +eleven, who, with his elbows on the table, sat contemplating her +progress, and sometimes teasing his brother Maurice, who was +earnestly engaged in constructing a model with some cards, which +he had pilfered from the heap before Emily. She was putting +her sister’s wedding cards into their shining envelopes, +and directing them in readiness for the post the next morning, +while they were sealed by a youth of the same age as Claude, a +small slim figure, with light complexion and hair, and dark gray +eyes full of brightness and vivacity.</p> +<p>He was standing, so as to be more on a level with the high +candle, and as Emily’s writing was not quite so rapid as +his sealing, he amused himself in the intervals with burning his +own fingers, by twisting the wax into odd shapes.</p> +<p>‘Why do you not seal up his eyes?’ inquired +Reginald, with an arch glance towards his brother on the +sofa.</p> +<p>‘Do it yourself, you rogue,’ was the answer, at +the same time approaching with the hot sealing-wax in his +hand—a demonstration which occasioned Claude to open his +eyes very wide, without giving himself any further trouble about +the matter.</p> +<p>‘Eh?’ said he, ‘now they try to look +innocent, as if no one could hear them plotting +mischief.’</p> +<p>‘Them! it was not!—Redgie there—young +ladies—I appeal—was not I as +innocent?’—was the very rapid, incoherent, and +indistinct answer.</p> +<p>‘After so lucid and connected a justification, no more +can be said,’ replied Claude, in a kind of ‘leave me, +leave me to repose’ tone, which occasioned Lilias to say, +‘I am afraid you are very tired.’</p> +<p>‘Tired! what has he done to tire him?’</p> +<p>‘I am sure a wedding is a terrible wear of +spirits!’ said Emily—‘such +excitement.’</p> +<p>‘Well—when I give a spectacle to the family next +year, I mean to tire you to some purpose.’</p> +<p>‘Eh?’ said Mr. Mohun, looking up, ‘is +Rotherwood’s wedding to be the next?’</p> +<p>‘You ought to understand, uncle,’ said Lord +Rotherwood, making two stops towards him, and speaking a little +more clearly, ‘I thought you longed to get rid of your +nephew and his concerns.’</p> +<p>‘You idle boy!’ returned Mr. Mohun, ‘you do +not mean to have the impertinence to come of age next +year.’</p> +<p>‘As much as having been born on the 30th of July, 1825, +can make me.’</p> +<p>‘But what good will your coming of age do us?’ +said Lilias, ‘you will be in London or Brighton, or some +such stupid place.’</p> +<p>‘Do not be senseless, Lily,’ returned her +cousin. ‘Devereux Castle is to be in +splendour—Hetherington in amazement—the +county’s hair shall stand on end—illuminations, +bonfires, feasts, balls, colours flying, bands playing, tenants +dining, fireworks—’</p> +<p>‘Hurrah! jolly! jolly!’ shouted Reginald, dancing +on the ottoman, ‘and mind there are lots of +squibs.’</p> +<p>‘And that Master Reginald Mohun has a new cap and bells +for the occasion,’ said Lord Rotherwood.</p> +<p>‘Let me make some fireworks,’ said Maurice.</p> +<p>‘You will begin like a noble baron of the hospitable +olden time,’ said Lily.</p> +<p>‘It will be like the old days, when every birthday of +yours was a happy day for the people at Hetherington,’ said +Emily.</p> +<p>‘Ah! those were happy old days,’ said Lord +Rotherwood, in a graver tone.</p> +<p>‘These are happy days, are not they?’ said Lily, +smiling.</p> +<p>Her cousin answered with a sigh, ‘Yes, but you do not +remember the old ones, Lily;’ then, after a pause, he +added, ‘It was a grievous mistake to shut up the castle all +these years. We have lost sight of everybody. I do +not even know what has become of the Aylmers.’</p> +<p>‘They went to live in London,’ said Emily, +‘Aunt Robert used to write to them there.’</p> +<p>‘I know, I know, but where are they now?’</p> +<p>‘In London, I should think,’ said Emily. +‘Some one said Miss Aylmer was gone out as a +governess.’</p> +<p>‘Indeed! I wish I could hear more! Poor Mr. +Aylmer! He was the first man who tried to teach me +Latin. I wonder what has become of that mad fellow Edward, +and Devereux, my father’s godson! Was not Mrs. Aylmer +badly off? I cannot bear that people should be +forgotten!’</p> +<p>‘It is not so very long that we have lost sight of +them,’ said Emily.</p> +<p>‘Eight years,’ said Lord Rotherwood. +‘He died six weeks after my father. Well! I +have made my mother promise to come home.’</p> +<p>‘Really?’ said Lilias, ‘she has been coming +so often.’</p> +<p>‘Aye—but she is coming this time. She is to +spend the winter at the castle, and make acquaintance with all +the neighbourhood.’</p> +<p>‘His lordship is romancing,’ said Claude to Lily +in a confidential tone.</p> +<p>‘I’ll punish you for suspecting me of talking +hyperborean language—hyperbolical, I mean,’ cried +Lord Rotherwood; ‘I’ll make you dance the Polka with +all the beauty and fashion.’</p> +<p>‘Then I shall stay at Oxford till it is over,’ +said Claude.</p> +<p>‘You do not know what a treasure you will be,’ +said the Marquis, ‘ladies like nothing so well as dancing +with a fellow twice the height he should be.’</p> +<p>‘Beware of putting me forward,’ said Claude, +rising, and, as he leant against the chimney-piece, looking down +from his height of six feet three, with a patronising air upon +his cousin, ‘I shall be taken for the hero, and you for my +little brother.’</p> +<p>‘I wish I was,’ said Lord Rotherwood, ‘it +would be much better fun. I should escape the speechifying, +the worst part of it.’</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ said Claude, ‘for one whose speeches +will be scraps of three words each, strung together with the +burthen of the apprentices’ song, Radara tadara, +tandore.’</p> +<p>‘Radaratade,’ said the Marquis, laughing. +‘By the bye, if Eleanor and Frank Hawkesworth manage well, +they may be here in time.’</p> +<p>‘Because they are so devoted to gaiety?’ said +Claude. ‘You will say next that William is coming +from Canada, on purpose.’</p> +<p>‘That tall captain!’ said Lord Rotherwood. +‘He used to be a very awful person.’</p> +<p>‘Ah! he used to keep the spoilt Marquis in order,’ +said Claude.</p> +<p>‘To say nothing of the spoilt Claude,’ returned +Lord Rotherwood.</p> +<p>‘Claude never was spoilt,’ said Lily.</p> +<p>‘It was not Eleanor’s way,’ said Emily.</p> +<p>‘At least she cannot be accused of spoiling me,’ +said Lord Rotherwood. ‘I shall never dare to write at +that round table again—her figure will occupy the chair +like Banquo’s ghost, and wave me off with a knitting +needle.’</p> +<p>‘Ah! that stain of ink was a worse blot on your +character than on the new table cover,’ said Claude.</p> +<p>‘She was rigidly impartial,’ said Lord +Rotherwood.</p> +<p>‘No,’ said Claude, ‘she made exceptions in +favour of Ada and me. She left the spoiling of the rest to +Emily.’</p> +<p>‘And well Emily will perform it! A pretty state +you will be in by the 30th of July, 1846,’ said Lord +Rotherwood.</p> +<p>‘Why should not Emily make as good a duenna as +Eleanor?’ said Lily.</p> +<p>‘Why should she not? She will not—that is +all,’ said the Marquis. ‘Such slow people you +all are! You would all go to sleep if I did not sometimes +rouse you up a little—grow stagnant.’</p> +<p>‘Not an elegant comparison,’ said Lilias; +‘besides, you must remember that your hasty brawling +streams do not reflect like tranquil lakes.’</p> +<p>‘One of Lily’s poetical hits, I declare!’ +said Lord Rotherwood, ‘but she need not have taken +offence—I did not refer to her—only Claude and Emily, +and perhaps—no, I will not say who else.’</p> +<p>‘Then, Rotherwood, I will tell you what I am—the +Lily that derives all its support from the calm lake.’</p> +<p>‘Well done, Lily, worthy of yourself,’ cried Lord +Rotherwood, laughing, ‘but you know I am always off when +you talk poetry.’</p> +<p>‘I suspect it is time for us all to be off,’ said +Claude, ‘did I not hear it strike the quarter?’</p> +<p>‘And to-morrow I shall be off in earnest,’ said +Lord Rotherwood. ‘Half way to London before Claude +has given one turn to “his sides, and his shoulders, and +his heavy head.”’</p> +<p>‘Shall we see you at Easter?’ said Emily.</p> +<p>‘No, I do not think you will. I am engaged to stay +with somebody somewhere, I forget the name of place and man; +besides, Grosvenor Square is more tolerable then than at any +other time of the year, and I shall spend a fortnight with my +mother and Florence. It is after Easter that you come to +Oxford, is it not, Claude?’</p> +<p>‘Yes, my year of idleness will be over. And there +is the Baron looking at his watch.’</p> +<p>The ‘Baron’ was the title by which the young +people were wont to distinguish Mr. Mohun, who, as Lily believed, +had a right to the title of Baron of Beechcroft. It was +certain that he was the representative of a family which had been +settled at Beechcroft ever since the Norman Conquest, and Lily +was very proud of the name of Sir William de Moune in the battle +roll, and of Sir John among the first Knights of the +Garter. Her favourite was Sir Maurice, who had held out +Beechcroft Court for six weeks against the Roundheads, and had +seen the greater part of the walls battered down. Witnesses +of the strength of the old castle yet remained in the massive +walls and broad green ramparts, which enclosed what was now +orchard and farm-yard, and was called the Old Court, while the +dwelling-house, built by Sir Maurice after the Restoration, was +named the New Court. Sir Maurice had lost many an acre in +the cause of King Charles, and his new mansion was better suited +to the honest squires who succeeded him, than to the mighty +barons his ancestors. It was substantial and well built, +with a square gravelled court in front, and great, solid, folding +gates opening into a lane, bordered with very tall well-clipped +holly hedges, forming a polished, green, prickly wall. +There was a little door in one of these gates, which was scarcely +ever shut, from whence a well-worn path led to the porch, where +generally reposed a huge Newfoundland dog, guardian of the hoops +and walkingsticks that occupied the corners. The front door +was of heavy substantial oak, studded with nails, and never +closed in the daytime, and the hall, wainscoted and floored with +slippery oak, had a noble open fireplace, with a wood fire +burning on the hearth.</p> +<p>On the other side of the house was a terrace sloping down to a +lawn and bowling-green, hedged in by a formal row of +evergreens. A noble plane-tree was in the middle of the +lawn, and beyond it a pond renowned for water-lilies. To +the left was the kitchen garden, terminating in an orchard, +planted on the ramparts and moat of the Old Court; then came the +farm buildings, and beyond them a field, sloping upwards to an +extensive wood called Beechcroft Park. In the wood was the +cottage of Walter Greenwood, gamekeeper and woodman by hereditary +succession, but able and willing to turn his hand to anything, +and, in fact, as Adeline once elegantly termed him, the +‘family tee totum.’</p> +<p>To the right of the house there was a field, called Long Acre, +bounded on the other side by the turnpike road to Raynham, which +led up the hill to the village green, surrounded by well-kept +cottages and gardens. The principal part of the village +was, however, at the foot of the hill, where the Court lane +crossed the road, led to the old church, the school, and +parsonage, in its little garden, shut in by thick yew +hedges. Beyond was the blacksmith’s shop, more +cottages, and Mrs. Appleton’s wondrous village warehouse; +and the lane, after passing by the handsome old farmhouse of Mr. +Harrington, Mr. Mohun’s principal tenant, led to a bridge +across a clear trout stream, the boundary of the parish of +Beechcroft.</p> +<h2><a name="page15"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +15</span>CHAPTER III<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE NEW PRINCIPLE</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘And wilt thou show no more, quoth he,<br /> + Than doth thy duty bind?<br /> +I well perceive thy love is small.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">On</span> the Sunday evening which +followed Eleanor’s wedding, Lilias was sitting next to +Emily, and talking in very earnest tones, which after a time +occasioned Claude to look up and say, ‘What is all this +about? Something remarkably absurd I suspect.’</p> +<p>‘Only a new principle,’ said Emily.</p> +<p>‘New!’ cried Lily, ‘only what must be the +feeling of every person of any warmth of character?’</p> +<p>‘Now for it then,’ said Claude.</p> +<p>‘No, no, Claude, I really mean it (and Lily sincerely +thought she did). I will not tell you if you are going to +laugh.’</p> +<p>‘That depends upon what your principle may chance to +be,’ said Claude. ‘What is it, Emily? She +will be much obliged to you for telling.’</p> +<p>‘She only says she cannot bear people to do their duty, +and not to act from a feeling of love,’ said Emily.</p> +<p>‘That is not fair,’ returned Lily, ‘all I +say is, that it is better that people should act upon love for +its own sake, than upon duty for its own sake.’</p> +<p>‘What comes in rhyme with Lily?’ said Claude.</p> +<p>‘Don’t be tiresome, Claude, I really want you to +understand me.’</p> +<p>‘Wait till you understand yourself,’ said the +provoking brother, ‘and let me finish what I am +reading.’</p> +<p>For about a quarter of an hour he was left in peace, while +Lily was busily employed with a pencil and paper, under the +shadow of a book, and at length laid before him the following +verses:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘What is the source of gentleness,<br /> +The spring of human blessedness,<br /> +Bringing the wounded spirit healing,<br /> +The comforts high of heaven revealing,<br /> +The lightener of each daily care,<br /> +The wing of hope, the life of prayer,<br /> +The zest of joy, the balm of sorrow,<br /> +Bliss of to-day, hope of to-morrow,<br /> +The glory of the sun’s bright beam,<br /> +The softness of the pale moon stream,<br /> +The flow’ret’s grace, the river’s voice,<br /> +The tune to which the birds rejoice;<br /> +Without it, vain each learned page,<br /> +Cold and unfelt each council sage,<br /> +Heavy and dull each human feature,<br /> +Lifeless and wretched every creature;<br /> +In which alone the glory lies,<br /> +Which value gives to sacrifice?<br /> +’Tis that which formed the whole creation,<br /> +Which rests on every generation.<br /> +Of Paradise the only token<br /> +Just left us, ’mid our treasures broken,<br /> +Which never can from us be riven,<br /> +Sure earnest of the joys of Heaven.<br /> +And which, when earth shall pass away,<br /> +Shall be our rest on the last day,<br /> +When tongues shall fail and knowledge cease,<br /> +And throbbing hearts be all at peace:<br /> +When faith is sight, and hope is sure,<br /> +That which alone shall still endure<br /> +Of earthly joys in heaven above,<br /> +’Tis that best gift, eternal Love!’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>‘What have you there?’ said Mr. Mohun, who had +come towards them while Claude was reading the lines. +Taking the paper from Claude’s hand, he read it to himself, +and then saying, ‘Tolerable, Lily; there are some things to +alter, but you may easily make it passable,’ he went on to +his own place, leaving Lilias triumphant.</p> +<p>‘Well, Claude, you see I have the great Baron on my +side.’</p> +<p>‘I am of the Baron’s opinion,’ said Claude, +‘the only wonder is that you doubted it.’</p> +<p>‘You seemed to say that love was good for +nothing.’</p> +<p>‘I said nothing but that Lily has a rhyme.’</p> +<p>‘And saying that I was silly, was equivalent to saying +that love was nothing,’ said Lily.</p> +<p>‘O Lily, I hope not,’ said Claude, with a comical +air.</p> +<p>‘Well, I know I often am foolish, but not in +this,’ said Lily; ‘I do say that mere duty is not +lovable.’</p> +<p>‘Say it if you will then,’ said Claude, yawning, +‘only let me finish this sermon.’</p> +<p>Lily set herself to reconsider some of her lines: but +presently Emily left the room, Claude looked up, and Lily +exclaimed, ‘Now, Claude, let us make a trial of +it.’</p> +<p>‘Well,’ said Claude, yawning again, and looking +resigned.</p> +<p>‘Think how Eleanor went on telling us of duty, duty, +duty—never making allowances—never relaxing her stiff +rules about trifles—never unbending from her duenna-like +dignity—never showing one spark of enthusiasm—making +great sacrifices, but only because she thought them her +duty—because it was right—good for herself—only +a higher kind of selfishness—not because her feeling +prompted her.’</p> +<p>‘Certainly, feeling does not usually prompt people to +give up their lovers for the sake of their brothers and +sisters.’</p> +<p>‘She did it because it was her duty,’ said Lily, +‘quite as if she did not care.’</p> +<p>‘I wonder whether Frank thought so,’ said +Claude.</p> +<p>‘At any rate you will confess that Emily is a much more +engaging person,’ said Lily.</p> +<p>‘Certainly, I had rather talk nonsense to her,’ +said Claude.</p> +<p>‘You feel it, though you will not allow it,’ said +Lily. ‘Now think of Emily’s sympathy, and +gentleness, and sweet smile, and tell me if she is not a complete +personification of love. And then Eleanor, +unpoetical—never thrown off her balance by grief or joy, +with no ups and downs—no enthusiasm—no appreciation +of the beautiful—her highest praise “very +right,” and tell me if there can be a better image of +duty.’</p> +<p>Claude might have had some chance of bringing Lily to her +senses, if he had allowed that there was some truth in what she +had said; but he thought the accusation so unjust in general, +that he would not agree to any part of it, and only answered, +‘You have very strange views of duty and of +Eleanor.’</p> +<p>‘Well!’ replied Lily, ‘I only ask you to +watch; Emily and I are determined to act on the principle of +love, and you will see if her government is not more successful +than that of duty.’</p> +<p>Such was the principle upon which Lily intended her sister to +govern the household, and to which Emily listened without knowing +what she meant much better than she did herself. +Emily’s own views, as far as she possessed any, were to get +on as smoothly as she could, and make everybody pleased and +happy, without much trouble to herself, and also to make the +establishment look a little more as if a Lady Emily had lately +been its mistress, than had been the case in Eleanor’s +time. Mr. Mohun’s property was good, but he wished to +avoid unnecessary display and expense, and he expected his +daughters to follow out these views, keeping a wise check upon +Emily, by looking over her accounts every Saturday, and turning a +deaf ear when she talked of the age of the drawing-room carpet, +and the ugliness of the old chariot. Emily had a good deal +on her hands, requiring sense and activity, but Lilias and Jane +were now quite old enough to assist her. Lily however, +thought fit to despise all household affairs, and bestowed the +chief of her attention on her own department—the village +school and poor people; and she was also much engrossed by her +music and drawing, her German and Italian, and her verse +writing.</p> +<p>Claude had more power over her than any one else. He was +a gentle, amiable boy, of high talent, but disposed to indolence +by ill health. In most matters he was, however, victorious +over this propensity, which was chiefly visible in his love of +easy chairs, and his dislike of active sports, which made him the +especial companion of his sisters. A dangerous illness had +occasioned his removal from Eton, and he had since been at home, +reading with his cousin Mr. Devereux, and sharing his +sisters’ amusements.</p> +<p>Jane was in her own estimation an important member of the +administration, and in fact, was Emily’s chief assistant +and deputy. She was very small and trimly made, everything +fitted her precisely, and she had tiny dexterous fingers, and +active little feet, on which she darted about noiselessly and +swiftly as an arrow; an oval brown face, bright colour, straight +features, and smooth dark hair, bright sparkling black eyes, a +little mouth, wearing an arch subdued smile, very white teeth, +and altogether the air of a woman in miniature. Brisk, +bold, and blithe—ever busy and ever restless, she was +generally known by the names of Brownie and Changeling, which +were not inappropriate to her active and prying disposition.</p> +<p>Excepting Claude and Emily, the young party were early risers, +and Lily especially had generally despatched a good deal of +business before the eight o’clock breakfast.</p> +<p>At nine they went to church, Mr. Devereux having restored the +custom of daily service, and after this, Mr. Mohun attended to +his multitudinous affairs; Claude went to the +parsonage,—Emily to the storeroom, Lily to the village, the +younger girls to the schoolroom, where they were presently joined +by Emily. Lily remained in her own room till one +o’clock, when she joined the others in the schoolroom, and +they read aloud some book of history till two, the hour of dinner +for the younger, and of luncheon for the elder. They then +went out, and on their return from evening service, which began +at half-past four, the little ones had their lessons to learn, +and the others were variously employed till dinner, the time of +which was rather uncertain but always late. The evening +passed pleasantly and quickly away in reading, work, music, and +chatter.</p> +<p>As Emily had expected, her first troubles were with Phyllis; +called, not the neat handed, by her sisters; Master Phyl, by her +brothers; and Miss Tomboy, by the maids. She seemed born to +be a trial of patience to all concerned with her; yet without +many actual faults, except giddiness, restlessness, and +unrestrained spirits. In the drawing-room, schoolroom, and +nursery she was continually in scrapes, and so often reproved and +repentant, that her loud roaring fits of crying were amongst the +ordinary noises of the New Court. She was terribly awkward +when under constraint, or in learning any female accomplishment, +but swift and ready when at her ease, and glorying in the boyish +achievements of leaping ditches and climbing trees. Her +voice was rather highly pitched, and she had an inveterate habit +of saying, ‘I’ll tell you what,’ at the +beginning of all her speeches. She was not tall, but +strong, square, firm, and active; she had a round merry face, a +broad forehead, and large bright laughing eyes, of a doubtful +shade between gray and brown. Her mouth was wide, her nose +turned up, her complexion healthy, but not rosy, and her stiff +straight brown hair was more apt to hang over her eyes, than to +remain in its proper place behind her ears.</p> +<p>Adeline was very different; her fair and brilliant complexion, +her deep blue eyes and golden ringlets, made her a very lovely +little creature; her quietness was a relief after her +sister’s boisterous merriment, and her dislike of dirt and +brambles, continually contrasted with poor Phyllis’s +recklessness of such impediments. Ada readily learnt +lessons, which cost Phyllis and her teacher hours of toil; Ada +worked deftly when Phyllis’s stiff fingers never willingly +touched a needle; Ada played with a doll, drew on scraps of +paper, or put up dissected maps, while Phyllis was in mischief or +in the way. A book was the only chance of interesting her; +but very few books took her fancy enough to occupy her +long;—those few, however, she read over and over again, and +when unusual tranquillity reigned in the drawing-room, she was +sure to be found curled up at the top of the library steps, +reading one of three books—<i>Robinson Crusoe</i>, +<i>Little Jack</i>, or <i>German Popular Tales</i>. Then +Emily blamed her ungraceful position, Jane laughed at her uniform +taste, and Lily proposed some story about modern children, such +as Phyllis never could like, and the constant speech was +repeated, ‘Only look at Ada!’ till Phyllis considered +her sister as a perfect model, and sighed over her own +naughtiness.</p> +<p><i>German Popular Tales</i> were a recent introduction of +Claude’s, for Eleanor had carefully excluded all fairy +tales from her sisters’ library; so great was her dread of +works of fiction, that Emily and Lilias had never been allowed to +read any of the Waverley Novels, excepting <i>Guy Mannering</i>, +which their brother Henry had insisted upon reading aloud to them +the last time he was at home, and that had taken so strong a hold +on their imagination, that Eleanor was quite alarmed.</p> +<p>One day Mr. Mohun chanced to refer to some passage in +<i>Waverley</i>, and on finding that his daughters did not +understand him, he expressed great surprise at their want of +taste.</p> +<p>Poor things,’ said Claude, ‘they cannot help it; +do not you know that Eleanor thinks the Waverley Novels a sort of +slow poison? They know no more of them than their +outsides.’</p> +<p>‘Well, the sooner they know the inside the +better.’</p> +<p>‘Then may we really read them, papa?’ cried +Lily.</p> +<p>‘And welcome,’ said her father.</p> +<p>This permission once given, the young ladies had no idea of +moderation; Lily’s heart and soul were wrapped up in +whatever tale she chanced to be reading—she talked of +little else, she neglected her daily occupations, and was in a +kind of trance for about three weeks. At length she was +recalled to her senses by her father’s asking her why she +had shown him no drawings lately. Lily hesitated for a +moment, and then said, ‘Papa, I am sorry I was so +idle.’</p> +<p>‘Take care,’ said Mr. Mohun, ‘let us be able +to give a good account of ourselves when Eleanor +comes.’</p> +<p>‘I am afraid, papa,’ said Lily, ‘the truth +is, that my head has been so full of <i>Woodstock</i> for the +last few days, that I could do nothing.’</p> +<p>‘And before that?’</p> +<p>‘<i>The Bride of Lammermoor</i>.’</p> +<p>‘And last week?’</p> +<p>‘<i>Waverley</i>. Oh! papa, I am afraid you must +be very angry with me.’</p> +<p>‘No, no, Lily, not yet,’ said Mr. Mohun, ‘I +do not think you quite knew what an intoxicating draught you had +got hold of; I should have cautioned you. Your negligence +has not yet been a serious fault, though remember, that it +becomes so after warning.’</p> +<p>‘Then,’ said Lily, ‘I will just finish +<i>Peveril</i> at once, and get it out of my head, and then read +no more of the dear books,’ and she gave a deep sigh.</p> +<p>‘Lily would take the temperance pledge, on condition +that she might finish her bottle at a draught,’ said Mr. +Mohun.</p> +<p>Lily laughed, and looked down, feeling quite unable to offer +to give up <i>Peveril</i> before she had finished it, but her +father relieved her, by saying in his kind voice, ‘No, no, +Lily, take my advice, read those books, for most of them are very +good reading, and very pretty reading, and very useful reading, +and you can hardly be called a well-educated person if you do not +know them; but read them only after the duties of the day are +done—make them your pleasure, but do not make yourself +their slave.’</p> +<p>‘Lily,’ said Claude the next morning, as he saw +her prepare her drawing-desk, ‘why are you not reading +<i>Peveril</i>?’</p> +<p>‘You know what papa said yesterday,’ was the +answer.</p> +<p>‘Oh! but I thought your feelings were with poor Julian +in the Tower,’ said Claude.</p> +<p>‘My feelings prompt me to sacrifice my pleasure in +reading about him to please papa, after he spoke so +kindly.’</p> +<p>‘If that is always the effect of your principle, I shall +think better of it,’ said Claude.</p> +<p>Lily, whether from her new principle, or her old habits of +obedience, never ventured to touch one of her tempters till after +five o’clock, but, as she was a very rapid reader, she +generally contrived to devour more than a sufficient quantity +every evening, so that she did not enjoy them as much as she +would, had she been less voracious in her appetite, and they made +her complain grievously of the dulness of the latter part of +Russell’s <i>Modern Europe</i>, which was being read in the +schoolroom, and yawn nearly as much as Phyllis over the +‘Pragmatic Sanction.’ However, when that book +was concluded, and they began Palgrave’s <i>Anglo +Saxons</i>, Lily was seized within a sudden historical +fever. She could hardly wait till one o’clock, before +she settled herself at the schoolroom table with her work, and +summoned every one, however occupied, to listen to the +reading.</p> +<h2><a name="page26"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +26</span>CHAPTER IV<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">HONEST PHYL</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘Multiplication<br /> +Is a vexation.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was a bright and beautiful +afternoon in March, the song of the blackbird and thrush, and the +loud chirp of the titmouse, came merrily through the schoolroom +window, mixed with the sounds of happy voices in the garden; the +western sun shone brightly in, and tinged the white wainscoted +wall with yellow light; the cat sat in the window-seat, winking +at the sun, and sleepily whisking her tail for the amusement of +her kitten, which was darting to and fro, and patting her on the +head, in the hope of rousing her to some more active sport.</p> +<p>But in the midst of all these joyous sights and sounds, was +heard a dolorous voice repeating, ‘three and four +are—three and four are—oh dear! they are—seven, +no, but I do not think it is a four after all, is it not a +one? Oh dear!’ And on the floor lay Phyllis, +her back to the window, kicking her feet slowly up and down, and +yawning and groaning over her slate.</p> +<p>Presently the door opened, and Claude looked in, and very +nearly departed again instantly, for Phyllis at that moment made +a horrible squeaking with her slate-pencil, the sound above all +others that he disliked. He, however, stopped, and asked +where Emily was.</p> +<p>‘Out in the garden,’ answered Phyllis, with a +tremendous yawn.</p> +<p>‘What are you doing here, looking so piteous?’ +said Claude.</p> +<p>‘My sum,’ said Phyllis.</p> +<p>‘Is this your time of day for arithmetic?’ asked +he.</p> +<p>‘No,’ said Phyllis, ‘only I had not done it +by one o’clock to-day, and Lily said I must finish after +learning my lessons for to-morrow, but I do not think I shall +ever have done, it is so hard. Oh!’ (another stretch +and a yawn, verging on a howl), ‘and Jane and Ada are +sowing the flower-seeds. Oh dear! Oh dear!’ and +Phyllis’s face contracted, in readiness to cry.</p> +<p>‘And is that the best position for doing sums?’ +said Claude.</p> +<p>‘I was obliged to lie down here to get out of the way of +Ada’s sum,’ said Phyllis, getting up.</p> +<p>‘Get out of the way of Ada’s sum?’ repeated +Claude.</p> +<p>‘Yes, she left it on the table where I was sitting, +where I could see it, and it is this very one, so I must not look +at it; I wish I could do sums as fast as she can.’</p> +<p>‘Could you not have turned the other side of the slate +upwards?’ said Claude, smiling.</p> +<p>‘So I could!’ said Phyllis, as if a new light had +broken in upon her. ‘But then I wanted to be out of +sight of pussy, for I could not think a bit, while the kitten was +at play so prettily, and I kicked my heels to keep from hearing +the voices in the garden, for it does make me so +unhappy!’</p> +<p>Some good-natured brothers would have told the little girl not +to mind, and sent her out to enjoy herself, but Claude respected +Phyllis’s honesty too much to do so, and he said, +‘Well, Phyl, let me see the sum, and we will try if we +cannot conquer it between us.’</p> +<p>Phyllis’s face cleared up in an instant, as she brought +the slate to her brother.</p> +<p>‘What is this?’ said he; ‘I do not +understand.’</p> +<p>‘Compound Addition,’ said Phyllis, ‘I did +one with Emily yesterday, and this is the second.’</p> +<p>‘Oh! these are marks between the pounds, shillings, and +pence,’ said Claude, ‘I took them for elevens; well, +I do not wonder at your troubles, I could not do this sum as it +is set.’</p> +<p>‘Could not you, indeed?’ cried Phyllis, quite +delighted.</p> +<p>‘No, indeed,’ said Claude. ‘Suppose we +set it again, more clearly; but how is this? When I was in +the schoolroom we always had a sponge fastened to the +slate.’</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ said Phyllis, ‘I had one before +Eleanor went, but my string broke, and I lost it, and Emily +always forgets to give me another. I will run and wash the +slate in the nursery; but how shall we know what the sum +is?’</p> +<p>‘Why, I suppose I may look at Ada’s slate, though +you must not,’ said Claude, laughing to himself at poor +little honest simplicity, as he applied himself to cut a new +point to her very stumpy slate-pencil, and she scampered away, +and returned in a moment with her clean slate.</p> +<p>‘Oh, how nice and fresh it all looks!’ said she as +he set down the clear large figures. ‘I cannot think +how you can do it so evenly.’</p> +<p>‘Now, Phyl, do not let the pencil scream if you can help +it.’</p> +<p>Claude found that Phyllis’s great difficulty was with +the farthings. She could not understand the fractional +figures, and only knew thus far, that ‘Emily said it never +meant four.’</p> +<p>Claude began explaining, but his first attempt was far too +scientific. Phyllis gave a desponding sigh, looking so +mystified, that he began to believe that she was hopelessly dull, +and to repent of having offered to help her; but at last, by +means of dividing a card into four pieces, he succeeded in making +her comprehend him, and her eyes grew bright with the pleasure of +understanding.</p> +<p>Even then the difficulties were not conquered, her addition +was very slow, and dividing by twelve and twenty seemed endless +work; at length the last figure of the pounds was set down, the +slate was compared with Adeline’s, and the sum pronounced +to be right. Phyllis capered up to the kitten and tossed it +up in the air in her joy, then coming slowly back to her brother, +she said with a strange, awkward air, hanging down her head, +‘Claude, I’ll tell you what—’</p> +<p>‘Well, what?’ said Claude.</p> +<p>‘I should like to kiss you.’</p> +<p>Then away she bounded, clattered down stairs, and flew across +the lawn to tell every one she met that Claude had helped her to +do her sum, and that it was quite right.</p> +<p>‘Did you expect that it would be too hard for him, +Phyl?’ said Jane, laughing.</p> +<p>‘No,’ said Phyllis, ‘but he said he could +not do it as it was set.’</p> +<p>‘And whose fault was that?’ said Jane.</p> +<p>‘Oh! but he showed me how to set it better,’ said +Phyllis, ‘and he said that when he learnt the beginning of +fractions, he thought them as hard as I do.’</p> +<p>‘Fractions!’ said Jane, ‘you do not fancy +you have come to fractions yet! Fine work you will make of +them when you do!’</p> +<p>In the evening, as soon as the children were gone to bed, Jane +took a paper out of her work-basket, saying, ‘There, Emily, +is my account of Phyl’s scrapes through this whole week; I +told you I should write them all down.’</p> +<p>‘How kind!’ muttered Claude.</p> +<p>Regardless of her brother, who had not looked up from his +book, Jane began reading her list of poor Phyllis’s +misadventures. ‘On Monday she tore her frock by +climbing a laurel-tree, to look at a blackbird’s +nest.’</p> +<p>‘I gave her leave,’ said Emily. +‘Rachel had ordered her not to climb; and she was crying +because she could not see the nest that Wat Greenwood had +found.’</p> +<p>‘On Tuesday she cried over her French grammar, and tore +a leaf out of the old spelling-book.’</p> +<p>‘That was nearly out before,’ said Emily, +‘Maurice and Redgie spoilt that long ago.’</p> +<p>‘I do not know of anything on Wednesday, but on Thursday +she threw Ada down the steps out of the nursery.’</p> +<p>‘Oh! that accounts for the dreadful screaming that I +heard,’ said Claude; ‘I forgot to ask the meaning of +it.’</p> +<p>‘I am sure it was Phyl that was the most dismayed, and +cried the loudest,’ said Lily.</p> +<p>‘That she always does,’ said Jane. ‘On +Friday we had an uproar in the schoolroom about her hemming, and +on Saturday she tumbled into a wet ditch, and tore her bonnet in +the brambles; on Sunday, she twisted her ancles together at +church.’</p> +<p>‘Well, there I did chance to observe her,’ said +Lily, ‘there seemed to be a constant struggle between her +ancles and herself, they were continually coming lovingly +together, but were separated the next moment.’</p> +<p>‘And to-day this sum,’ said Jane; ‘seven +scrapes in one week! I really am of opinion, as Rachel says +when she is angry, that school is the best place for +her.’</p> +<p>‘I think so too,’ said Claude.</p> +<p>‘I do not know,’ said Emily, ‘she is very +troublesome, but—’</p> +<p>‘Oh, Claude!’ cried Lily, ‘you do not mean +that you would have that poor dear merry Master Phyl sent to +school, she would pine away like a wild bird in a cage; but papa +will never think of such a thing.’</p> +<p>‘If I thought of her being sent to school,’ said +Claude, ‘it would be to shield her from—the rule of +love.’</p> +<p>‘Oh! you think we are too indulgent,’ said Emily; +‘perhaps we are, but you know we cannot torment a poor +child all day long.’</p> +<p>‘If you call the way you treat her indulgent, I should +like to know what you call severe.’</p> +<p>‘What do you mean, Claude?’ said Emily.</p> +<p>‘I call your indulgence something like the tender +mercies of the wicked,’ said Claude. ‘On a fine +day, when every one is taking their pleasure in the garden, to +shut an unhappy child up in the schoolroom, with a hard sum that +you have not taken the trouble to teach her how to do, and late +in the day, when no one’s head is clear for difficult +arithmetic—’</p> +<p>‘Hard sum do you call it?’ said Jane.</p> +<p>‘Indeed I explained it to her,’ said Emily.</p> +<p>‘And well she understood you,’ said Claude.</p> +<p>‘She might have learnt if she had attended,’ said +Emily; ‘Ada understood clearly, with the same +explanation.’</p> +<p>‘And do not you be too proud of the effect of your +instructions, Claude,’ said Jane, ‘for when honest +Phyl came into the garden, she did not know farthings from +fractions.’</p> +<p>‘And pray, Mrs. Senior Wrangler,’ said Claude, +‘will you tell me where is the difference between a +half-penny and half a penny?’</p> +<p>After a good laugh at Jane’s expense, Emily went on, +‘Now, Claude, I will tell you how it happened; Phyllis is +so slow, and dawdles over her lessons so long, that it is quite a +labour to hear her; Ada is quick enough, but if you were to hear +Phyllis say one column of spelling, you would know what misery +is. Then before she has half finished, the clock strikes +one, it is time to read, and the lessons are put off till the +afternoon. I certainly did not know that she was about her +sum all that time, or I would have sent her out as I did on +Saturday.’</p> +<p>‘And the reading at one is as fixed as fate,’ said +Claude.</p> +<p>‘Oh, no!’ said Jane, ‘when we were about old +“Russell,” we did not begin till nearly two, but +since we have been reading this book, Lily will never let us rest +till we begin; she walks up and down, and hurries and worries +and—’</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ said Emily, in a murmuring voice, ‘we +should do better if Lily would not make such a point of that one +thing; but she never minds what else is cut short, and she never +thinks of helping me. It never seems to enter her head how +much I have on my hands, and no one does anything to help +me.’</p> +<p>‘Oh, Emily! you never asked me,’ said Lily.</p> +<p>‘I knew you would not like it,’ said Emily. +‘No, it is not my way to complain, people may see how to +help me if they choose to do it.’</p> +<p>‘Lily, Lily, take care,’ said Claude, in a low +voice; ‘is not the rule you admire, the rule of love of +yourself?’</p> +<p>‘Oh, Claude!’ returned Lily, ‘do not say so, +you know it was Emily that I called an example of it, not myself, +and see how forbearing she has been. Now I see that I am +really wanted, I will help. It must be love, not duty, that +calls me to the schoolroom, for no one ever said that was my +province.’</p> +<p>‘Poor duty! you give it a very narrow +boundary.’</p> +<p>Lilias, who, to say the truth, had been made more careful of +her own conduct, by the wish to establish her principle, really +betook herself to the schoolroom for an hour every morning, with +a desire to be useful. She thought she did great things in +undertaking those tasks of Phyllis’s which Emily most +disliked. But Lilias was neither patient nor humble enough +to be a good teacher, though she could explain difficult rules in +a sensible way. She could not, or would not, understand the +difference between dulness and inattention; her sharp hasty +manner would frighten away all her pupil’s powers of +comprehension; she sometimes fell into the great error of +scolding, when Phyllis was doing her best, and the poor +child’s tears flowed more frequently than ever.</p> +<p>Emily’s gentle manner made her instructions far more +agreeable, though she was often neither clear nor correct in her +explanations; she was contented if the lessons were droned +through in any manner, so long as she could say they were done; +she disliked a disturbance, and overlooked or half corrected +mistakes rather than cause a cry. Phyllis naturally +preferred being taught by her, and Lily was vexed and unwilling +to persevere. She went to the schoolroom expecting to be +annoyed, created vexation for herself, and taught in anything but +a loving spirit. Still, however, the thought of Claude, and +the wish to do more than her duty, kept her constant to her +promise, and her love of seeing things well done was useful, +though sadly counterbalanced by her deficiency in temper and +patience.</p> +<h2><a name="page35"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +35</span>CHAPTER V<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">VILLAGE GOSSIP</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘The deeds we do, the words we say,<br /> + Into still air they seem to fleet;<br /> +We count them past,<br /> + But they shall last.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">Soon</span> after Easter, Claude went to +Oxford. He was much missed by his sisters, who wanted him +to carve for them at luncheon, to escort them when they rode or +walked, to hear their music, talk over their books, advise +respecting their drawings, and criticise Lily’s +verses. A new subject of interest was, however, arising for +them in the neighbours who were shortly expected to arrive at +Broom Hill, a house which had lately been built in a hamlet about +a mile and a half from the New Court.</p> +<p>These new comers were the family of a barrister of the name of +Weston, who had taken the house for the sake of his wife, her +health having been much injured by her grief at the loss of two +daughters in the scarlet fever. Two still remained, a +grown-up young lady, and a girl of eleven years old, and the Miss +Mohuns learnt with great delight that they should have near +neighbours of their own age. They had never had any young +companions as young ladies were scarce among their acquaintance, +and they had not seen their cousin, Lady Florence Devereux, since +they were children.</p> +<p>It was with great satisfaction that Emily and Lilias set out +with their father to make the first visit, and they augured well +from their first sight of Mrs. Weston and her daughters. +Mrs. Weston was alone, her daughters being out walking, and Lily +spent the greater part of the visit in silence, though her mind +was made up in the first ten minutes, as she told Emily on +leaving the house, ‘that Miss Weston’s tastes were in +complete accordance with her own.’</p> +<p>‘Rapid judgment,’ said Emily. ‘Love +before first sight. But Mrs. Weston is a very sweet +person.’</p> +<p>‘And, Emily, did you see the music-book open at +“Angels ever bright and fair?” If Miss Weston +sings that as I imagine it!’</p> +<p>‘How could you see what was in the music-book at the +other end of the room? I only saw it was a beautiful +piano. And what handsome furniture! it made me doubly +ashamed of our faded carpet and chairs, almost as old as the +house itself.’</p> +<p>‘Emily!’ said Lily, in her most earnest tones, +‘I would not change one of those dear old chairs for a +king’s ransom!’</p> +<p>The visit was in a short time returned, and though it was but +a formal morning call, Lilias found her bright expectations +realised by the sweetness of Alethea Weston’s manners, and +the next time they met it was a determined thing in her mind +that, as Claude would have said, they had sworn an eternal +friendship.</p> +<p>She had the pleasure of lionising the two sisters over the Old +Court, telling all she knew and all she imagined about the siege, +Sir Maurice Mohun, and his faithful servant, Walter +Greenwood. ‘Miss Weston,’ said she in +conclusion, ‘have you read <i>Old Mortality</i>?’</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ said Alethea, amused at the question.</p> +<p>‘Because they say I am as bad as Lady Margaret about the +king’s visit.’</p> +<p>‘I have not heard the story often enough to think +so,’ said Miss Weston, ‘I will warn you if I +do.’</p> +<p>In the meantime Phyllis and Adeline were equally charmed with +Marianne, though shocked at her ignorance of country manners, +and, indeed, Alethea was quite diverted with Lily’s pity at +the discovery that she had never before been in the country in +the spring. ‘What,’ she cried, ‘have you +never seen the tufts of red on the hazel, nor the fragrant golden +palms, and never heard the blackbird rush twittering out of the +hedge, nor the first nightingale’s note, nor the +nightjar’s low chirr, nor the chattering of the +rooks? O what a store of sweet memories you have +lost! Why, how can you understand the beginning of the +Allegro?’</p> +<p>Both the Miss Westons had so much pleasure in making +acquaintance with ‘these delights,’ as quite to +compensate for their former ignorance, and soon the New Court +rang with their praises. Mr. Mohun thought very highly of +the whole family, and rejoiced in such society for his daughters, +and they speedily became so well acquainted, that it was the +ordinary custom of the Westons to take luncheon at the New Court +on Sunday. On her side, however, Alethea Weston felt some +reluctance to become intimate with the young ladies of the New +Court. She was pleased with Emily’s manners, +interested by Lily’s earnestness and simplicity, and +thought Jane a clever and amusing little creature, but even their +engaging qualities gave her pain, by reminding her of the sisters +she had lost, or by making her think how they would have liked +them. A country house and neighbours like these had been +the objects of many visions of their childhood, and now all the +sweet sights and sounds around her only made her think how she +should have enjoyed them a year ago. She felt almost +jealous of Marianne’s liking for her new friends, lest they +should steal her heart from Emma and Lucy; but knowing that these +were morbid and unthankful feelings, she struggled against them, +and though she missed her sisters even more than when her mother +and Marianne were in greater need of her attention, she let no +sign of her sorrowful feeling appear, and seeing that Marianne +was benefited in health and spirits, by intercourse with young +companions, she gave no hint of her disinclination to join in the +walks and other amusements of the Miss Mohuns.</p> +<p>She also began to take interest in the poor people. By +Mrs. Weston’s request, Mr. Devereux had pointed out the +families which were most in need of assistance, and Alethea made +it her business to find out the best way of helping them. +She visited the village school with Lilias, and when requested by +her and by the Rector to give her aid in teaching, she did not +like to refuse what might be a duty, though she felt very +diffident of her powers of instruction. Marianne, like +Phyllis and Adeline, became a Sunday scholar, and was catechised +with the others in church. Both Mr. Mohun and his nephew +thought very highly of the family, and the latter was +particularly glad that Lily should have some older person to +assist her in those parish matters which he left partly in her +charge.</p> +<p>Mr. Devereux had been Rector of Beechcroft about a year and a +half, and had hitherto been much liked. His parishioners +had known him from a boy, and were interested about him, and +though very young, there was something about him that gained +their respect. Almost all his plans were going on well, and +things were, on the whole, in a satisfactory state, though no one +but Lilias expected even Cousin Robert to make a Dreamland of +Beechcroft, and there were days when he looked worn and anxious, +and the girls suspected that some one was behaving ill.</p> +<p>‘Have you a headache, Robert?’ asked Emily, a few +evenings before Whit-Sunday, ‘you have not spoken three +words this evening.’</p> +<p>‘Not at all, thank you,’ said Mr. Devereux, +smiling, ‘you need not think to make me your victim, now +you have no Claude to nurse.’</p> +<p>‘Then if it is not bodily, it is mental,’ said +Lily.</p> +<p>‘I am in a difficulty about the christening of Mrs. +Naylor’s child.’</p> +<p>‘Naylor the blacksmith?’ said Jane. ‘I +thought it was high time for it to be christened. It must +be six weeks old.’</p> +<p>‘Is it not to be on Whit-Sunday?’ said Lily, +disconsolately.</p> +<p>‘Oh no! Mrs. Naylor will not hear of bringing the +child on a Sunday, and I could hardly make her think it possible +to bring it on Whit-Tuesday.’</p> +<p>‘Why did you not insist?’ said Lily.</p> +<p>‘Perhaps I might, if there was no other holy day at +hand, or if there was not another difficulty, a point on which I +cannot give way.’</p> +<p>‘Oh! the godfathers and godmothers,’ said Lily, +‘does she want that charming brother of hers, Edward +Gage?’</p> +<p>‘Yes, and what is worse, Edward Gage’s dissenting +wife, and Dick Rodd, who shows less sense of religion than any +one in the parish, and has never been confirmed.’</p> +<p>‘Could you make them hear reason?’</p> +<p>‘They were inclined to be rather impertinent,’ +said Mr. Devereux. ‘Old Mrs. Gage—’</p> +<p>‘Oh!’ interrupted Jane, ‘there is no hope +for you if the sour Gage is in the pie.’</p> +<p>‘The sour Gage told me people were not so particular in +her younger days, and perhaps they should not have the child +christened at all, since I was such a <i>contrary</i> +gentleman. Tom Naylor was not at home, I am to see him +to-morrow.’</p> +<p>‘Well, I do not think Tom Naylor is as bad as the +rest,’ said Lily; ‘he would have been tolerable, if +he had married any one but Martha Gage.’</p> +<p>‘Yes, he is an open good-natured fellow, and I have +hopes of making an impression on him.’</p> +<p>‘If not,’ said Lily, ‘I hope papa will take +away his custom.’</p> +<p>‘What?’ said Mr. Mohun, who always heard any +mention of himself. Mr. Devereux repeated his history, and +discussed the matter with his uncle, only once interrupted by an +inquiry from Jane about the child’s name, a point on which +she could gain no intelligence. His report the next day was +not decidedly unfavourable, though he scarcely hoped the +christening would be so soon as Tuesday. He had not seen +the father, and suspected he had purposely kept out of the +way.</p> +<p>Jane, disappointed that the baby’s name remained a +mystery, resolved to set out on a voyage of discovery. +Accordingly, as soon as her cousin was gone, she asked Emily if +she had not been saying that Ada wanted some more cotton for her +sampler.</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ said Emily, ‘but I am not going to +walk all the way to Mrs. Appleton’s this +afternoon.’</p> +<p>‘Shall I go?’ said Jane. ‘Ada, run and +fetch your pattern.’ Emily and Ada were much obliged +by Jane’s disinterested offer, and in a quarter of an hour +Ada’s thoughts and hands were busy in Mrs. Appleton’s +drawer of many-coloured cotton.</p> +<p>‘What a pity this is about Mrs. Naylor’s +baby,’ began Jane.</p> +<p>‘It is a sad story indeed, Miss Jane, I am sure it must +be grievous to Mr. Devereux,’ said Mrs. Appleton. +‘Betsy Wall said he had been there three times about +it.’</p> +<p>‘Ah! we all know that Walls have ears,’ said Jane; +‘how that Betsy does run about gossiping!’</p> +<p>‘Yes, Miss Jane, there she bides all day long at the +stile gaping; not a stitch does she do for her mother; I cannot +tell what is to be the end of it.’</p> +<p>‘And do you know what the child’s name is to be, +Mrs. Appleton?’</p> +<p>‘No, Miss Jane,’ answered Mrs. Appleton. +‘Betsy did say they talked of naming him after his uncle, +Edward Gage, only Mr. Devereux would not let him +stand.’</p> +<p>‘No,’ said Jane. ‘Since he married +that dissenting wife he never comes near the church; he is too +much like the sour Gage, as we call his mother, to be good for +much. But, after all, he is not so bad as Dick Rodd, who +has never been confirmed, and has never shown any sense of +religion in his life.’</p> +<p>‘Yes, Miss, Dick Rodd is a sad fellow: did you hear what +a row there was at the Mohun Arms last week, Miss +Jane?’</p> +<p>‘Aye,’ said Jane, ‘and papa says he shall +certainly turn Dick Rodd out of the house as soon as the lease is +out, and it is only till next Michaelmas +twelve-months.’</p> +<p>‘Yes, Miss, as I said to Betsy Wall, it would be more +for their interest to behave well.’</p> +<p>‘Indeed it would,’ said Jane. ‘Robert +and papa were talking of having their horses shod at Stoney +Bridge, if Tom Naylor will be so obstinate, only papa does not +like to give Tom up if he can help it, because his father was so +good, and Tom would not be half so bad if he had not married one +of the Gages.’</p> +<p>‘Here is Cousin Robert coming down the lane,’ said +Ada, who had chosen her cotton, and was gazing from the +door. Jane gave a violent start, took a hurried leave of +Mrs. Appleton, and set out towards home; she could not avoid +meeting her cousin.</p> +<p>‘Oh, Jenny! have you been enjoying a gossip with your +great ally?’ said he.</p> +<p>‘We have only been buying pink cotton,’ said Ada, +whose conscience was clear.</p> +<p>‘Ah!’ said Mr. Devereux, ‘Beechcroft affairs +would soon stand still, without those useful people, Mrs. +Appleton, Miss Wall, and Miss Jane Mohun,’ and he passed +on. Jane felt her face colouring, his freedom from +suspicion made her feel very guilty, but the matter soon passed +out of her mind.</p> +<p>Blithe Whit-Sunday came, the five Miss Mohuns appeared in +white frocks, new bonnets were plenty, the white tippets of the +children, and the bright shawls of the mothers, made the village +look gay; Wat Greenwood stuck a pink between his lips, and the +green boughs of hazel and birch decked the dark oak carvings in +the church.</p> +<p>And Whit-Monday came. At half-past ten the rude music of +the band of the Friendly Society came pealing from the top of the +hill, then appeared two tall flags, crowned with guelder roses +and peonies, then the great blue drum, the clarionet blown by +red-waist-coated and red-faced Mr. Appleton, the three flutes and +the triangle, all at their loudest, causing some of the +spectators to start, and others to dance. Then behold the +whole procession of labourers, in white round frocks, blue +ribbons in their hats, and tall blue staves in their hands. +In the rear, the confused mob, women and children, cheerful faces +and mirthful sounds everywhere. These were hushed as the +flags were lowered to pass under the low-roofed gateway of the +churchyard, and all was still, except the trampling of feet on +the stone floor. Then the service began, the responses were +made in full and hearty tones, almost running into a chant, the +old 133rd Psalm was sung as loudly and as badly as usual, a very +short but very earnest sermon was preached, and forth came the +troop again.</p> +<p>Mr. Devereux always dined with the club in a tent, at the top +of the hill, but his uncle made him promise to come to a second +dinner at the New Court in the evening.</p> +<p>‘Robert looks anxious,’ said Lily, as she parted +with him after the evening service; ‘I am afraid something +is going wrong.’</p> +<p>‘Trust me for finding out what it is,’ said +Jane.</p> +<p>‘No, no, Jenny, do not ask him,’ said Lily; +‘if he tells us to relieve his mind, I am very glad he +should make friends of us, but do not ask. Let us talk of +other things to put it out of his head, whatever it may +be.’</p> +<p>Jane soon heard more of the cause of the depression of her +cousin’s spirits than even she had any desire to do. +After dinner, the girls were walking in the garden, enjoying the +warmth of the evening, when Mr. Devereux came up to her and drew +her aside from the rest, telling her that he wished to speak to +her.</p> +<p>‘Oh!’ said Jane, ‘when am I to meet you at +school again? You never told me which chapter I was to +prepare; I cannot think what would become of your examinations if +it was not for me, you could not get an answer to one question in +three.’</p> +<p>‘That was not what I wished to speak to you +about,’ said Mr. Devereux. ‘What had you been +saying to Mrs. Appleton when I met you at her door on +Saturday?’</p> +<p>The colour rushed into Jane’s cheeks, but she replied +without hesitation, ‘Oh! different things, <i>La pluie et +le beau temps</i>, just as usual.’</p> +<p>‘Cannot you remember anything more +distinctly?’</p> +<p>‘I always make a point of forgetting what I talk +about,’ said Jane, trying to laugh.</p> +<p>‘Now, Jane, let me tell you what has happened in the +village—as I came down the hill from the +club-dinner—’</p> +<p>‘Oh,’ said Jane, hoping to make a diversion, +‘Wat Greenwood came back about a quarter of an hour ago, +and he—’</p> +<p>Mr. Devereux proceeded without attending to her, ‘As I +came down the hill from the club-dinner, old Mrs. Gage came out +of Naylor’s house, and her daughter with her, in great +anger, calling me to account for having spoken of her in a most +unbecoming way, calling her the sour Gage, and trying to set the +Squire against them.’</p> +<p>‘Oh, that abominable chattering woman!’ Jane +exclaimed; ‘and Betsy Wall too, I saw her all alive about +something. What a nuisance such people are!’</p> +<p>‘In short,’ said Mr. Devereux, ‘I heard an +exaggerated account of all that passed here on the subject the +other day. Now, Jane, am I doing you any injustice in +thinking that it must have been through you that this history +went abroad into the village?’</p> +<p>‘Well,’ said Jane, ‘I am sure you never told +us that it was any secret. When a story is openly told to +half a dozen people they cannot be expected to keep it to +themselves.’</p> +<p>‘I spoke uncharitably and incautiously,’ said he, +‘I am willing to confess, but it is nevertheless my duty to +set before you the great matter that this little fire has +kindled.’</p> +<p>‘Why, it cannot have done any great harm, can it?’ +asked Jane, the agitation of her voice and laugh betraying that +she was not quite so careless as she wished to appear. +‘Only the sour Gage will ferment a little.’</p> +<p>‘Oh, Jane! I did not expect that you would treat +this matter so lightly.’</p> +<p>‘But tell me, what harm has it done?’ asked +she.</p> +<p>‘Do you consider it nothing that the poor child should +remain unbaptized, that discord should be brought into the +parish, that anger should be on the conscience of your neighbour, +that he should be driven from the church?’</p> +<p>‘Is it as bad as that?’ said Jane.</p> +<p>‘We do not yet see the full extent of the mischief our +idle words may have done,’ said Mr. Devereux.</p> +<p>‘But it is their own fault, if they will do +wrong,’ said Jane; ‘they ought not to be in a rage, +we said nothing but the truth.’</p> +<p>‘I wish I was clear of the sin,’ said her +cousin.</p> +<p>‘And after all,’ said Jane, ‘I cannot see +that I was much to blame; I only talked to Mrs. Appleton, as I +have done scores of times, and no one minded it. You only +laughed at me on Saturday, and papa and Eleanor never scolded +me.’</p> +<p>‘You cannot say that no one has ever tried to check +you,’ said the Rector.</p> +<p>‘And how was I to know that that mischief-maker would +repeat it?’ said Jane.</p> +<p>‘I do not mean to say,’ said Mr. Devereux, +‘that you actually committed a greater sin than you may +often have done, by talking in a way which you knew would +displease your father. I know we are too apt to treat +lightly the beginnings of evil, until some sudden sting makes us +feel what a serpent we have been fostering. Think this a +warning, pray that the evil we dread may be averted; but should +it ensue, consider it as a punishment sent in mercy. It +will be better for you not to come to school to-morrow; instead +of the references you were to have looked out, I had rather you +read over in a humble spirit the Epistle of St. James.’</p> +<p>Jane’s tears by this time were flowing fast, and finding +that she no longer attempted to defend herself, her cousin said +no more. He joined the others, and Jane, escaping to her +own room, gave way to a passionate fit of crying. Whether +her tears were of true sorrow or of anger she could not have told +herself; she was still sobbing on her bed when the darkness came +on, and her two little sisters came in on their way to bed to +wish her good-night.</p> +<p>‘Oh, Jane, Jane! what is the matter? have you been +naughty?’ asked the little girls in great amazement.</p> +<p>‘Never mind,’ said Jane, shortly; +‘good-night,’ and she sat up and wiped away her +tears. The children still lingered. ‘Go away, +do,’ said she. ‘Is Robert gone?’</p> +<p>‘No,’ said Phyllis, ‘he is reading the +newspaper.’</p> +<p>Phyllis and Adeline left the room, and Jane walked up and +down, considering whether she should venture to go down to tea; +perhaps her cousin had waited till the little girls had gone +before he spoke to Mr. Mohun, or perhaps her red eyes might cause +questions on her troubles; she was still in doubt when Lily +opened the door, a lamp in her hand.</p> +<p>‘My dear Jenny, are you here? Ada told me you were +crying, what is the matter?’</p> +<p>‘Then you have not heard?’ said Jane.</p> +<p>‘Only Robert began just now, “Poor Jenny, she has +been the cause of getting us into a very awkward scrape,” +but then Ada came to tell me about you, and I came +away.’</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ said Jane, angrily, ‘he will throw +all the blame upon me, when I am sure it was quite as much the +fault of that horrible Mrs. Appleton, and papa will be as angry +as possible.’</p> +<p>‘But what has happened?’ asked Lily.</p> +<p>‘Oh! that chatterer, that worst of gossipers, has gone +and told the Naylors and Mrs. Gage all we said about them the +other day.’</p> +<p>‘So you told Mrs. Appleton?’ said Lily; ‘so +that was the reason you were so obliging about the marking +thread. Oh, Jane, you had better say no more about Mrs. +Appleton! And has it done much mischief?’</p> +<p>‘Oh! Mrs. Gage “pitched” into Robert, +as Wat Greenwood would say, and the christening is off +again.’</p> +<p>‘Jane, this is frightful,’ said Lily; ‘I do +not wonder that you are unhappy.’</p> +<p>‘Well, I daresay it will all come right again,’ +said Jane; ‘there will only be a little delay, papa and +Robert will bring them to their senses in time.’</p> +<p>‘Suppose the baby was to die,’ said Lily.</p> +<p>‘Oh, it will not die,’ said Jane, ‘a great +fat healthy thing like that likely to die indeed!’</p> +<p>‘I cannot make you out, Jane,’ said Lily. +‘If I had done such a thing, I do not think I could have a +happy minute till it was set right.’</p> +<p>‘Well, I told you I was very sorry,’ said Jane, +‘only I wish they would not all be so hard upon me. +Robert owns that he should not have said such things if he did +not wish them to be repeated.’</p> +<p>‘Does he?’ cried Lily. ‘How exactly +like Robert that is, to own himself in fault when he is obliged +to blame others. Jane, how could you hear him say such +things and not be overcome with shame? And then to turn it +against him! Oh, Jane, I do not think I can talk to you any +more.’</p> +<p>‘I do not mean to say it was not very good of +him,’ said Jane.</p> +<p>‘Good of him—what a word!’ cried Lily. +‘Well, good-night, I cannot bear to talk to you now. +Shall I say anything for you downstairs?’</p> +<p>‘Oh, tell papa and Robert I am very sorry,’ said +Jane. ‘I shall not come down again, you may leave the +lamp.’</p> +<p>On her way downstairs in the dark Lilias was led, by the +example of her cousin, to reflect that she was not without some +share in the mischief that had been done; the words which report +imputed to Mr. Devereux were mostly her own or +Jane’s. There was no want of candour in Lily, and as +soon as she entered the drawing-room she went straight up to her +father and cousin, and began, ‘Poor Jenny is very unhappy; +she desired me to tell you how sorry she is. But I really +believe that I did the mischief, Robert. It was I who said +those foolish things that were repeated as if you had said +them. It is a grievous affair, but who could have thought +that we were doing so much harm?’</p> +<p>‘Perhaps it may not do any,’ said Emily. +‘The Naylors have a great deal of good about +them.’</p> +<p>‘They must have more than I suppose, if they can endure +what Robert is reported to have said of them,’ said Mr. +Mohun.</p> +<p>‘What did you say, Robert,’ said Lily, ‘did +you not tell them all was said by your foolish young +cousins?’</p> +<p>‘I agreed with you too much to venture on contradicting +the report; you know I could not even deny having called Mrs. +Gage by that name.’</p> +<p>‘Oh, if I could do anything to mend it!’ cried +Lily.</p> +<p>But wishes had no effect. Lilias and Jane had to mourn +over the full extent of harm done by hasty words. After the +more respectable men had left the Mohun Arms on the evening of +Whit-Monday, the rest gave way to unrestrained drunkenness, not +so much out of reckless self-indulgence, as to defy the clergyman +and the squire. They came to the front of the parsonage, +yelled and groaned for some time, and ended by breaking down the +gate.</p> +<p>This conduct was repeated on Tuesday, and on many Saturdays +following; some young trees in the churchyard were cut, and abuse +of the parson written on the walls the idle young men taking this +opportunity to revenge their own quarrels, caused by Mr. +Devereux’s former efforts for their reformation.</p> +<p>On Sunday several children were absent from school; all those +belonging to Farmer Gage’s labourers were taken away, and +one man was turned off by the farmers for refusing to remove his +child.</p> +<p>Now that the war was carried on so openly, Mr. Mohun +considered it his duty to withdraw his custom from one who chose +to set his pastor at defiance. He went to the forge, and +had a long conversation with the blacksmith, but though he was +listened to with respect, it was not easy to make much impression +on an ignorant, hot-tempered man, who had been greatly offended, +and prided himself on showing that he would support the quarrel +of his wife and her relations against both squire and parson; and +though Mr. Mohun did persuade him to own that it was wrong to be +at war with the clergyman, the effect of his arguments was soon +done away with by the Gages, and no ground was gained.</p> +<p>Mr. Gage’s farm was unhappily at no great distance from +a dissenting chapel and school, in the adjoining parish of Stoney +Bridge, and thither the farmer and blacksmith betook themselves, +with many of the cottagers of Broom Hill.</p> +<p>One alone of the family of Tom Naylor refused to join him in +his dissent, and that was his sister, Mrs. Eden, a widow, with +one little girl about seven years old, who, though in great +measure dependent upon him for subsistence, knew her duty too +well to desert the church, or to take her child from school, and +continued her even course, toiling hard for bread, and +uncomplaining, though often munch distressed. All the rest +of the parish who were not immediately under Mr. Mohun’s +influence were in a sad state of confusion.</p> +<p>Jane was grieved at heart, but would not confess it, and +Lilias was so restless and unhappy, that Emily was quite weary of +her lamentations. Her best comforter was Miss Weston, who +patiently listened to her, sighed with her over the evident +sorrow of the Rector, and the mischief in the parish, and proved +herself a true friend, by never attempting to extenuate her +fault.</p> +<h2><a name="page52"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +52</span>CHAPTER VI<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE NEW FRIEND</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘Maidens should be mild and meek,<br /> +Swift to hear, and slow to speak.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">Miss Weston</span> had been much +interested by what she heard respecting Mrs. Eden, and gladly +discovered that she was just the person who could assist in some +needlework which was required at Broom Hill. She asked +Lilias to tell her where to find her cottage, and Lily replied by +an offer to show her the way; Miss Weston hesitated, thinking +that perhaps in the present state of things Lily had rather not +see her; but her doubts were quickly removed by this speech, +‘I want to see her particularly. I have been there +three times without finding her. I think I can set this +terrible matter right by speaking to her.’</p> +<p>Accordingly, Lilias and Phyllis set out with Alethea and +Marianne one afternoon to Mrs. Eden’s cottage, which stood +at the edge of a long field at the top of the hill. Very +fast did Lily talk all the way, but she grew more silent as she +came to the cottage, and knocked at the door; it was opened by +Mrs. Eden herself, a pale, but rather pretty young woman, with a +remarkable gentle and pleasing face, and a manner which was +almost ladylike, although her hands were freshly taken out of the +wash-tub. She curtsied low, and coloured at the sight of +Lilias, set chairs for the visitors, and then returned to her +work.</p> +<p>‘Oh! Mrs. Eden,’ Lily began, intending to make her +explanation, but feeling confused, thought it better to wait till +her friend’s business was settled, and altered her speech +into ‘Miss Weston is come to speak to you about some +work.’</p> +<p>Mrs. Eden looked quite relieved, and Alethea proceeded to +appoint the day for her coming to Broom Hill, and arrange some +small matters, during which Lily not only settled what to say, +but worked herself into a fit of impatience at the length of +Alethea’s instructions. When they were concluded, +however, and there was a pause, her words failed her, and she +wished that she was miles from the cottage, or that she had never +mentioned her intentions. At last she stammered out, +‘Oh! Mrs. Eden—I wanted to speak to you +about—about Mr. Devereux and your brother.’</p> +<p>Mrs. Eden bent over her wash-tub, Miss Weston examined the +shells on the chimney-piece, Marianne and Phyllis listened with +all their ears, and poor Lily was exceedingly uncomfortable.</p> +<p>‘I wished to tell you—I do not think—I do +not mean—It was not his saying. Indeed, he did not +say those things about the Gages.’</p> +<p>‘I told my brother I did not think Mr. Devereux would go +for to say such a thing,’ said Mrs. Eden, as much confused +as Lily.</p> +<p>‘Oh! that was right, Mrs. Eden. The mischief was +all my making and Jane’s. We said those foolish +things, and they were repeated as if it was he. Oh! do tell +your brother so, Mrs. Eden. It was very good of you to +think it was not Cousin Robert. Pray tell Tom Naylor. +I cannot bear that things should go on in this dreadful +way.’</p> +<p>‘Indeed, Miss, I am very sorry,’ said Mrs. +Eden.</p> +<p>‘But, Mrs Eden, I am sure that would set it right +again,’ said Lily, ‘are not you? I would do +anything to have that poor baby christened.’</p> +<p>Lily’s confidence melted away as she saw that Mrs. +Eden’s tears were falling fast, and she ended with, +‘Only tell them, and we shall see what will +happen.’</p> +<p>‘Very well, Miss Lilias,’ said Mrs. Eden. +‘I am very sorry.’</p> +<p>‘Let us hope that time and patience will set things +right,’ said Miss Weston, to relieve the embarrassment of +both parties. ‘Your brother must soon see that Mr. +Devereux only wishes to do his duty.’</p> +<p>Alethea skilfully covered Lily’s retreat, and the party +took leave of Mrs. Eden, and turned into their homeward path.</p> +<p>Lily at first seemed disposed to be silent, and Miss Weston +therefore amused herself with listening to the chatter of the +little girls as they walked on before them.</p> +<p>‘There are only thirty-six days to the holidays,’ +said Phyllis; ‘Ada and I keep a paper in the nursery with +the account of the number of days. We shall be so glad when +Claude, and Maurice, and Redgie come home.’</p> +<p>‘Are they not very boisterous?’ said Marianne.</p> +<p>‘Not Maurice,’ said Phyllis.</p> +<p>‘No, indeed,’ said Lily, ‘Maurice is like +nobody else. He takes up some scientific pursuit each time +he comes home, and cares for nothing else for some time, and then +quite forgets it. He is an odd-looking boy too, thick and +sturdy, with light flaxen hair, and dark, overhanging eyebrows, +and he makes the most extraordinary grimaces.’</p> +<p>‘And Reginald?’ said Alethea.</p> +<p>‘Oh! Redgie is a noble-looking fellow. But just +eleven, and taller than Jane. His complexion so fair, yet +fresh and boyish, and his eyes that beautiful blue that +Ada’s are—real blue. Then his hair, in dark +brown waves, with a rich auburn shine. The old knights must +have been just like Redgie. And Claude—Oh! Miss +Weston, have you ever seen Claude?’</p> +<p>‘No, but I have seen your eldest brother.’</p> +<p>‘William? Why, he has been in Canada these three +years. Where could you have seen him?’</p> +<p>‘At Brighton, about four years ago.’</p> +<p>‘Ah! the year before he went. I remember that his +regiment was there. Well, it is curious that you should +know him; and did you ever hear of Harry, the brother that we +lost?’</p> +<p>‘I remember Captain Mohun’s being called away to +Oxford by his illness,’ said Alethea.</p> +<p>‘Ah, yes! William was the only one of us who was +with him, even papa was not there. His illness was so +short.’</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ said Alethea, ‘I think it was on a +Tuesday that Captain Mohun left Brighton, and we saw his death in +the paper on Saturday.’</p> +<p>‘William only arrived the evening that he died. +Papa was gone to Ireland to see about Cousin Rotherwood’s +property. Robert, not knowing that, wrote to him at +Beechcroft; Eleanor forwarded the letter without opening it, and +so we knew nothing till Robert came to tell us that all was +over.’</p> +<p>‘Without any preparation?’</p> +<p>‘With none. Harry had left home about ten days +before, quite well, and looking so handsome. You know what +a fine-looking person William is. Well, Harry was very like +him, only not so tall and strong, with the same clear hazel eyes, +and more pink in his cheeks—fairer altogether. Then +Harry wrote, saying that he had caught one of his bad +colds. We did not think much of it, for he was always +having coughs. We heard no more for a week, and then one +morning Eleanor was sent for out of the schoolroom, and there was +Robert come to tell us. Oh! it was such a +thunderbolt. This was what did the mischief. You know +papa and mamma being from home so long, the elder boys had no +settled place for the holidays; sometimes they stayed with one +friend, sometimes with another, and so no one saw enough of them +to find out how delicate poor Harry really was. I think +papa had been anxious the only winter they were at home together, +and Harry had been talked to and advised to take care; but in the +summer and autumn he was well, and did not think about it. +He went to Oxford by the coach—it was a bitterly cold +frosty day—there was a poor woman outside, shivering and +looking very ill, and Harry changed places with her. He was +horribly chilled, but thinking he had only a common cold, he took +no care. Robert, coming to Oxford about a week after, found +him very ill, and wrote to papa and William, but William scarcely +came in time. Harry just knew him, and that was all. +He could not speak, and died that night. Then William +stayed at Oxford to receive papa, and Robert came to tell +us.’</p> +<p>‘It must have been a terrible shock.’</p> +<p>‘Such a loss—he was so very good and clever. +Every one looked up to him—William almost as much as the +younger ones. He never was in any scrape, had all sorts of +prizes at Eton, besides getting his scholarship before he was +seventeen.’</p> +<p>Whenever Lily could get Miss Weston alone, it was her way to +talk in this manner. She loved the sound of her own voice +so well, that she was never better satisfied than when engrossing +the whole conversation. Having nothing to talk of but her +books, her poor people, and her family, she gave her friend the +full benefit of all she could say on each subject, while Alethea +had kindness enough to listen with real interest to her long +rambling discourses, well pleased to see her happy.</p> +<p>The next time they met, Lilias told her all she knew or +imagined respecting Eleanor, and of her own debate with Claude, +and ended, ‘Now, Miss Weston, tell me your opinion, which +would you choose for a sister, Eleanor or Emily?’</p> +<p>‘I have some experience of Miss Mohun’s delightful +manners, and none of Mrs. Hawkesworth’s, so I am no fair +judge,’ said Alethea.</p> +<p>‘I really have done justice to Eleanor’s sterling +goodness,’ said Lily. ‘Now what should you +think?’</p> +<p>‘I can hardly imagine greater proofs of affection than +Mrs. Hawkesworth has given you,’ said Miss Weston, +smiling.</p> +<p>‘It was because it was her duty,’ said +Lilias. ‘You have only heard the facts, but you +cannot judge of her ways and looks. Now only think, when +Frank came home, after seven years of perils by field and +flood—there she rose up to receive him as if he had been +Mr. Nobody making a morning call. And all the time before +they were married, I do believe she thought more of showing Emily +how much tea we were to use in a week than anything +else.’</p> +<p>‘Perhaps some people might have admired her +self-command,’ said Alethea.</p> +<p>‘Self-command, the refuge of the insensible? And +now, I told you about dear Harry the other day. He was +Eleanor’s especial brother, yet his death never seemed to +make any difference to her. She scarcely cried: she heard +our lessons as usual, talked in her quiet voice—showed no +tokens of feeling.’</p> +<p>‘Was her health as good as before?’ asked Miss +Weston.</p> +<p>‘She was not ill,’ said Lily; ‘if she had, I +should have been satisfied. She certainly could not take +long walks that winter, but she never likes walking. People +said she looked ill, but I do not know.’</p> +<p>‘Shall I tell you what I gather from your +history?’</p> +<p>‘Pray do.’</p> +<p>‘Then do not think me very perverse, if I say that +perhaps the grief she then repressed may have weighed down her +spirits ever since, so that you can hardly remember any +alteration.’</p> +<p>‘That I cannot,’ said Lily. ‘She is +always the same, but then she ought to have been more cheerful +before his death.’</p> +<p>‘Did not you lose him soon after your mother?’ +said Alethea.</p> +<p>‘Two whole years,’ said Lily. ‘Oh! and +aunt, Robert too, and Frank went to India the beginning of that +year; yes, there was enough to depress her, but I never thought +of grief going on in that quiet dull way for so many +years.’</p> +<p>‘You would prefer one violent burst, and then +forgetfulness?’</p> +<p>‘Not exactly,’ said Lily; ‘but I should like +a little evidence of it. If it is really strong, it cannot +be hid.’</p> +<p>Little did Lily think of the grief that sat heavy upon the +spirit of Alethea, who answered—‘Some people can do +anything that they consider their duty.’</p> +<p>‘Duty: what, are you a duty lover?’ exclaimed +Lilias. ‘I never suspected it, because you are not +disagreeable.’</p> +<p>‘Thank you,’ said Alethea, laughing, ‘your +compliment rather surprises me, for I thought you told me that +your brother Claude was on the duty side of the +question.’</p> +<p>‘He thinks he is,’ said Lily, ‘but love is +his real motive of action, as I can prove to you. Poor +Claude had a very bad illness when he was about three years old; +and ever since he has been liable to terrible headaches, and he +is not at all strong. Of course he cannot always study +hard, and when first he went to school, every one scolded him for +being idle. I really believe he might have done more, but +then he was so clever that he could keep up without any trouble, +and, as Robert says, that was a great temptation; but still papa +was not satisfied, because he said Claude could do better. +So said Harry. Oh! you cannot think what a person Harry +was, as high-spirited as William, and as gentle as Claude; and in +his kind way he used to try hard to make Claude exert himself, +but it never would do—he was never in mischief, but he +never took pains. Then Harry died, and when Claude came +home, and saw how changed things were, how gray papa’s hair +had turned, and how silent and melancholy William had grown, he +set himself with all his might to make up to papa as far as he +could. He thought only of doing what Harry would have +wished, and papa himself says that he has done wonders. I +cannot see that Henry himself could have been more than Claude is +now; he has not spared himself in the least, his tutor says, and +he would have had the Newcastle Scholarship last year, if he had +not worked so hard that he brought on one of his bad illnesses, +and was obliged to come home. Now I am sure that he has +acted from love, for it was as much his duty to take pains while +Harry was alive as afterwards.’</p> +<p>‘Certainly,’ said Miss Weston, ‘but what +does he say himself?’</p> +<p>‘Oh! he never will talk of himself,’ said +Lily.</p> +<p>‘Have you not overlooked one thing which may be the +truth,’ said Alethea, as if she was asking for information, +‘that duty and love may be identical? Is not St. +Paul’s description of charity very like the duty to our +neighbour?’</p> +<p>‘The practice is the same, but not the theory,’ +said Lily.</p> +<p>‘Now, what is called duty, seems to me to be love doing +unpleasant work,’ said Miss Weston; ‘love disguised +under another name, when obliged to act in a way which seems, +only seems, out of accordance with its real title.’</p> +<p>‘That is all very well for those who have love,’ +said Lily. ‘Some have not who do their duty +conscientiously—another word which I hate, by the +bye.’</p> +<p>‘They have love in a rough coat, perhaps,’ said +Alethea, ‘and I should expect it soon to put on a smoother +one.’</p> +<h2><a name="page61"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +61</span>CHAPTER VII<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">SIR MAURICE</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘Shall thought was his, in after time,<br /> +Thus to be hitched into a rhyme;<br /> +The simple sire could only boast<br /> +That he was loyal to his cost,<br /> +The banished race of kings revered,<br /> +And lost his land.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> holidays arrived, and with them +the three brothers, for during the first few weeks of the Oxford +vacation Claude accompanied Lord Rotherwood on visits to some +college friends, and only came home the same day as the younger +ones.</p> +<p>Maurice did not long leave his sisters in doubt as to what was +to be his reigning taste, for as soon as dinner was over, he made +Jane find the volume of the Encyclopædia containing +Entomology, and with his elbows on the table, proceeded to study +it so intently, that the young ladies gave up all hopes of +rousing him from it. Claude threw himself down on the sofa +to enjoy the luxury of a desultory talk with his sisters; and +Reginald, his head on the floor, and his heels on a chair, talked +loud and fast enough for all three, with very little regard to +what the damsels might be saying.</p> +<p>‘Oh! Claude,’ said Lily, ‘you cannot think +how much we like Miss Weston, she lets us call her Alethea, +and—’</p> +<p>Here came an interruption from Mr. Mohun, who perceiving the +position of Reginald’s dusty shoes, gave a loud +‘Ah—h!’ as if he was scolding a dog, and +ordered him to change them directly.</p> +<p>‘Here, Phyl!’ said Reginald, kicking off his +shoes, ‘just step up and bring my shippers, Rachel will +give them to you.’</p> +<p>Away went Phyllis, well pleased to be her brother’s +fag.</p> +<p>‘Ah! Redgie does not know the misfortune that +hangs over him,’ said Emily.</p> +<p>‘What?’ said Reginald, ‘will not the Baron +let Viper come to the house?’</p> +<p>‘Worse,’ said Emily, ‘Rachel is going +away.’</p> +<p>‘Rachel?’ cried Claude, starting up from the +sofa.</p> +<p>‘Rachel?’ said Maurice, without raising his +eyes.</p> +<p>‘Rachel! Rachel! botheration!’ roared +Reginald, with a wondrous caper.</p> +<p>‘Yes, Rachel,’ said Emily; ‘Rachel, who +makes so much of you, for no reason that I could ever discover, +but because you are the most troublesome.’</p> +<p>‘You will never find any one to mend your jackets, and +dress your wounds like Rachel,’ said Lily, ‘and make +a baby of you instead of a great schoolboy. What will +become of you, Redgie?’</p> +<p>‘What will become of any of us?’ said Claude; +‘I thought Rachel was the mainspring of the +house.’</p> +<p>‘Have you quarrelled with her, Emily?’ said +Reginald.</p> +<p>‘Nonsense,’ said Emily, ‘it is only that her +brother has lost his wife, and wants her to take care of his +children.’</p> +<p>‘Well,’ said Reginald, ‘her master has lost +his wife, and wants her to take care of his children.’</p> +<p>‘I cannot think what I shall do,’ said Ada; +‘I cry about it every night when I go to bed. What is +to be done?’</p> +<p>‘Send her brother a new wife,’ said Maurice.</p> +<p>‘Send him Emily,’ said Reginald; ‘we could +spare her much better.’</p> +<p>‘Only I don’t wish him joy,’ said +Maurice.</p> +<p>‘Well, I hope you wish me joy of my substitute,’ +said Emily; ‘I do not think you would ever guess, but Lily, +after being in what Rachel calls quite a way, has persuaded every +one to let us have Esther Bateman.’</p> +<p>‘What, the Baron?’ said Claude, in surprise.</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ said Lily, ‘is it not +delightful? He said at first, Emily was too inexperienced +to teach a young servant; but then we settled that Hannah should +be upper servant, and Esther will only have to wait upon Phyl and +Ada. Then he said Faith Longley was of a better set of +people, but I am sure it would give one the nightmare to see her +lumbering about the house, and then he talked it over with Robert +and with Rachel.’</p> +<p>‘And was not Rachel against it, or was she too kind to +her young ladies?’</p> +<p>‘Oh! she was cross when she talked it over with +us,’ said Lily; ‘but we coaxed her over, and she told +the Baron it would do very well.’</p> +<p>‘And Robert?’</p> +<p>‘He was quite with us, for he likes Esther as much as I +do,’ said lily.</p> +<p>‘Now, Lily,’ said Jane, ‘how can you say he +was quite with you, when he said he thought it would be better if +she was farther from home, and under some older +person?’</p> +<p>‘Yes, but he allowed that she would be much safer here +than at home,’ said Lily.</p> +<p>‘But I thought she used to be the head of all the ill +behaviour in school,’ said Claude.</p> +<p>‘Oh! that was in Eleanor’s time,’ said Lily; +‘there was nothing to draw her out, she never was +encouraged; but since she has been in my class, and has found +that her wishes to do right are appreciated and met by affection, +she has been quite a new creature.’</p> +<p>‘Since she has been in <span class="GutSmall">MY</span> +class,’ Claude repeated.</p> +<p>‘Well,’ said Lily, with a slight blush, ‘it +is just what Robert says. He told her, when he gave her her +prize Bible on Palm Sunday, that she had been going on very well, +but she must take great care when removed from those whose +influence now guided her, and who could he have meant but +me? And now she is to go on with me always. She will +be quite one of the old sort of faithful servants, who feel that +they owe everything to their masters, and will it not be pleasant +to have so sweet and expressive a face about the +house?’</p> +<p>‘Do I know her face?’ said Claude. ‘Oh +yes! I do. She has black eyes, I think, and would be +pretty if she did not look pert.’</p> +<p>‘You provoking Claude!’ cried Lily, ‘you are +as bad as Alethea, who never will say that Esther is the best +person for us.’</p> +<p>‘I was going to inquire for the all-for-love +principle,’ said Claude, ‘but I see it is in full +force. And how are the verses, Lily? Have you made a +poem upon Michael Moone, or Mohun, the actor, our uncle, whom I +discovered for you in Pepys’s Memoirs?’</p> +<p>‘Nonsense,’ said Lily; ‘but I have been +writing something about Sir Maurice, which you shall hear +whenever you are not in this horrid temper.’</p> +<p>The next afternoon, as soon as luncheon was over, Lily drew +Claude out to his favourite place under the plane-tree, where she +proceeded to inflict her poem upon his patient ears, while he lay +flat upon the grass looking up to the sky; Emily and Jane had +promised to join them there in process of time, and the four +younger ones were, as usual, diverting themselves among the farm +buildings at the Old Court.</p> +<p>Lily began: ‘I meant to have two parts about Sir Maurice +going out to fight when he was very young, and then about his +brothers being killed, and King Charles knighting him, and his +betrothed, Phyllis Crossthwayte, embroidering his black engrailed +cross on his banner, and then the taking the castle, and his +being wounded, and escaping, and Phyllis not thinking it right to +leave her father; but I have not finished that, so now you must +hear about his return home.’</p> +<blockquote><p>‘A romaunt in six cantos, entitled Woe +woe,<br /> +By Miss Fanny F. known more commonly so,’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>muttered Claude to himself; but as Lily did not understand or +know whence his quotation came, it did not hurt her feelings, and +she went merrily on:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘’Tis the twenty-ninth of merry +May;<br /> +Full cheerily shine the sunbeams to-day,<br /> + Their joyous light revealing<br /> +Full many a troop in garments gay,<br /> +With cheerful steps who take their way<br /> + By the green hill and shady lane,<br /> +While merry bells are pealing;<br /> + And soon in Beechcroft’s holy fane<br /> +The villagers are kneeling.<br /> +Dreary and mournful seems the shrine<br /> +Where sound their prayers and hymns divine;<br /> + For every mystic ornament<br /> + By the rude spoiler’s hand is rent;<br /> + Scarce is its ancient beauty traced<br /> + In wood-work broken and defaced,<br /> + Reft of each quaint device and rare,<br /> + Of foliage rich and mouldings fair;<br /> + Yet happy is each spirit there;<br /> + The simple peasantry rejoice<br /> + To see the altar decked with care,<br /> + To hear their ancient +Pastor’s voice<br /> + Reciting o’er each well-known prayer,<br /> + To view again his robe of white,<br /> + And hear the services aright;<br /> + Once more to chant their glorious Creed,<br /> + And thankful own their nation freed<br /> + From those who cast her glories down,<br /> + And rent away her Cross and Crown.<br /> + A stranger knelt among the crowd,<br /> + And joined his voice in praises loud,<br /> + And when the holy rites had ceased,<br /> + Held converse with the aged Priest,<br /> + Then turned to join the village feast,<br /> + Where, raised on the hill’s summit green,<br +/> + The Maypole’s flowery wreaths were seen;<br /> + Beneath the venerable yew<br /> + The stranger stood the sports to view,<br /> + Unmarked by all, for each was bent<br /> + On his own scheme of merriment,<br /> + On talking, laughing, dancing, playing—<br /> + There never was so blithe a Maying.<br /> + So thought each laughing maiden gay,<br /> + Whose head-gear bore the oaken spray;<br /> + So thought that hand of shouting boys,<br /> + Unchecked in their best joy—in noise;<br /> + But gray-haired men, whose deep-marked scars<br /> + Bore token of the civil wars,<br /> + And hooded dames in cloaks of red,<br /> + At the blithe youngsters shook the head,<br /> + Gathering in eager clusters told<br /> + How joyous were the days of old,<br /> + When Beechcroft’s lords, those Barons bold,<br +/> + Came forth to join their vassals’ sport,<br /> + And here to hold their rustic court,<br /> + Throned in the ancient chair you see<br /> + Beneath our noble old yew tree.<br /> + Alas! all empty stands the throne,<br /> + Reserved for Mohun’s race alone,<br /> + And the old folks can only tell<br /> + Of the good lords who ruled so well.<br /> + “Ah! I bethink me of the time,<br /> + The last before those years of crime,<br /> + When with his open hearty cheer,<br /> + The good old squire was sitting here.”<br /> + “’Twas then,” another voice +replied,<br /> + “That brave young Master Maurice tried<br /> + To pitch the ball with Andrew Grey—<br /> + We ne’er shall see so blithe a day—<br +/> + All the young squires have long +been dead.”<br /> + “No, Master Webb,” quoth Andrew Grey,<br +/> + “Young Master Maurice safely +fled,<br /> + At least so all the Greenwoods say,<br /> + And Walter Greenwood with him went<br /> + To share his master’s banishment;<br /> + And now King Charles is ruling here,<br /> + Our own good landlord may be near.”<br /> + “Small hope of that,” the old man +said,<br /> + And sadly shook his hoary head,<br /> + “Sir Maurice died beyond the sea,<br /> + Last of his noble line was he.”<br /> + “Look, Master Webb!” he turned, and +there<br /> + The stranger sat in Mohun’s chair;<br /> + At ease he sat, and smiled to scan<br /> + The face of each astonished man;<br /> + Then on the ground he laid aside<br /> + His plumed hat and mantle wide.<br /> + One moment, Andrew deemed he knew<br /> + Those glancing eyes of hazel hue,<br /> + But the sunk cheek, the figure spare,<br /> + The lines of white that streak the hair—<br /> + How can this he the stripling gay,<br /> + Erst, victor in the sports of May?<br /> + Full twenty years of cheerful toil,<br /> + And labour on his native soil,<br /> + On Andrew’s head had left no trace—<br +/> + The summer’s sun, the +winter’s storm,<br /> + They had but ruddier made his face,<br /> + More hard his hand, more strong +his form.<br /> + Forth from the wandering, whispering crowd,<br /> + A farmer came, and spoke aloud,<br /> + With rustic bow and welcome fair,<br /> + But with a hesitating air—<br /> + He told how custom well preserved<br /> + The throne for Mohun’s race reserved;<br /> + The stranger laughed, “What, Harrington,<br /> + Hast thou forgot thy landlord’s son?”<br +/> + Loud was the cry, and blithe the shout,<br /> + On Beechcroft hill that now rang out,<br /> + And still remembered is the day,<br /> + That merry twenty-ninth of May,<br /> + When to his father’s home returned<br /> + That knight, whose glory well was earned.<br /> + In poverty and banishment,<br /> + His prime of manhood had been spent,<br /> + A wanderer, scorned by Charles’s court,<br /> + One faithful servant his support.<br /> + And now, he seeks his home forlorn,<br /> + Broken in health, with sorrow worn.<br /> + And two short years just passed away,<br /> + Between that joyous meeting-day,<br /> + And the sad eve when Beechcroft’s bell<br /> + Tolled forth Sir Maurice’s funeral knell;<br +/> +And Phyllis, whose love was so constant and tried,<br /> +Was a widow the year she was Maurice’s bride;<br /> +Yet the path of the noble and true-hearted knight,<br /> +Was brilliant with honour, and glory, and light,<br /> +And still his descendants shall sing of the fame<br /> +Of Sir Maurice de Mohun, the pride of his name.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>‘It is a pity they should sing of it in such lines as +those last four,’ said Claude. ‘Let me see, I +like your bringing in the real names, though I doubt whether any +but Greenwood could have been found here.’</p> +<p>‘Oh! here come Emily and Jane,’ said Lily, +‘let me put it away.’</p> +<p>‘You are very much afraid of Jane,’ said +Claude.</p> +<p>‘Yes, Jane has no feeling for poetry,’ said Lily, +with simplicity, which made her brother smile.</p> +<p>Jane and Emily now came up, the former with her work, the +latter with a camp-stool and a book. ‘I +wonder,’ said she, ‘where those boys are! By +the bye, what character did they bring home from +school?’</p> +<p>‘The same as usual,’ said Claude. +‘Maurice’s mind only half given to his work, and +Redgie’s whole mind to his play.’</p> +<p>‘Maurice’s talent does not lie in the direction of +Latin and Greek,’ said Emily.</p> +<p>‘No,’ said Jane, ‘it is nonsense to make him +learn it, and so he says.’</p> +<p>‘Perhaps he would say the same of mathematics and +mechanics, if as great a point were made of them,’ said +Lily.</p> +<p>‘I think not,’ said Claude; ‘he has more +notion of them than of Latin verses.’</p> +<p>‘Then you are on my side,’ said Jane, +triumphantly.</p> +<p>‘Did I say so?’ said Claude.</p> +<p>‘Why not?’ said Jane. ‘What is the use +of his knowing those stupid languages? I am sure it is +wasting time not to improve such a genius as he has for mechanics +and natural history. Now, Claude, I wish you would +answer.’</p> +<p>‘I was waiting till you had done,’ said +Claude.</p> +<p>‘Why do you not think it nonsense?’ persisted +Jane.</p> +<p>‘Because I respect my father’s opinion,’ +said Claude, letting himself fall on the grass, as if he had done +with the subject.</p> +<p>‘Pooh!’ said Jane, ‘that sounds like a good +little boy of five years old!’</p> +<p>‘Very likely,’ said Claude.</p> +<p>‘But you have some opinion of your own,’ said +Lily.</p> +<p>‘Certainly.’</p> +<p>‘Then I wish you would give it,’ said Jane.</p> +<p>‘Come, Emily,’ said Claude, ‘have you +brought anything to read?’</p> +<p>‘But your opinion, Claude,’ said Jane. +‘I am sure you think with me, only you are too grand, and +too correct to say so.’</p> +<p>Claude made no answer, but Jane saw she was wrong by his +countenance; before she could say anything more, however, they +were interrupted by a great outcry from the Old Court +regions.</p> +<p>‘Oh,’ said Emily, ‘I thought it was a long +time since we had heard anything of those uproarious +mortals.’</p> +<p>‘I hope there is nothing the matter,’ said +Lily.</p> +<p>‘Oh no,’ said Jane, ‘I hear Redgie’s +laugh.’</p> +<p>‘Aye, but among that party,’ said Emily, +‘Redgie’s laugh is not always a proof of peace: they +are too much in the habit of acting the boys and the +frogs.’</p> +<p>‘We were better off,’ said Lily, ‘with the +gentle Claude, as Miss Middleton used to call him.’</p> +<p>‘Miss Molly, as William used to call him with more +propriety,’ said Claude, ‘not half so well worth +playing with as such a fellow as Redgie.’</p> +<p>‘Not even for young ladies?’ said Emily.</p> +<p>‘No, Phyllis and Ada are much the better for being +teased,’ said Claude. ‘I am convinced that I +never did my duty by you in that respect.’</p> +<p>‘There were others to do it for you,’ said +Jane.</p> +<p>‘Harry never teased,’ said Emily, ‘and +William scorned us.’</p> +<p>‘His teasing was all performed upon Claude,’ said +Lily, ‘and a great shame it was.’</p> +<p>‘Not at all,’ said Claude, ‘only an +injudicious attempt to put a little life into a +tortoise.’</p> +<p>‘A bad comparison,’ said Lily; ‘but what is +all this? Here come the children in dismay! What is +the matter, my dear child?’</p> +<p>This was addressed to Phyllis, who was the first to come up at +full speed, sobbing, and out of breath, ‘Oh, the +dragon-fly! Oh, do not let him kill it!’</p> +<p>‘The dragon-fly, the poor dear blue dragon-fly!’ +screamed Adeline, hiding her face in Emily’s lap, +‘Oh, do not let him kill it! he is holding it; he is +hurting it! Oh, tell him not!’</p> +<p>‘I caught it,’ said Phyllis, ‘but not to +have it killed. Oh, take it away!’</p> +<p>‘A fine rout, indeed, you chicken,’ said Reginald; +‘I know a fellow who ate up five horse-stingers one morning +before breakfast.’</p> +<p>‘Stingers!’ said Phyllis, ‘they do not sting +anything, pretty creatures.’</p> +<p>‘I told you I would catch the old pony and put it on him +to try,’ said Reginald.</p> +<p>In the meantime, Maurice came up at his leisure, holding his +prize by the wings. ‘Look what a beautiful Libellulla +Puella,’ said he to Jane.</p> +<p>‘A demoiselle dragon-fly,’ said Lily; ‘what +a beauty! what are you going to do with it?’</p> +<p>‘Put it into my museum,’ said Maurice. +‘Here, Jane, put it under this flower-pot, and take care of +it, while I fetch something to kill it with.’</p> +<p>‘Oh, Maurice, do not!’ said Emily.</p> +<p>‘One good squeeze,’ said Reginald. ‘I +will do it.’</p> +<p>‘How came you be so cruel?’ said Lily.</p> +<p>‘No, a squeeze will not do,’ said Maurice; +‘it would spoil its beauty; I must put it ever the fumes of +carbonic acid.’</p> +<p>‘Maurice, you really must not,’ said Emily.</p> +<p>‘Now do not, dear Maurice,’ said Ada, +‘there’s a dear boy; I will give you such a +kiss.’</p> +<p>‘Nonsense; get out of the way,’ said Maurice, +turning away.</p> +<p>‘Now, Maurice, this is most horrid cruelty,’ said +Lily; ‘what right have you to shorten the brief, happy life +which—’</p> +<p>‘Well,’ interrupted Maurice, ‘if you make +such a fuss about killing it, I will stick a pin through it into +a cork, and let it shift for itself.’</p> +<p>Poor Phyllis ran away to the other end of the garden, sat down +and sobbed, Ada screamed and argued, Emily complained, Lily +exhorted Claude to interfere, while Reginald stood laughing.</p> +<p>‘Such useless cruelty,’ said Emily.</p> +<p>‘Useless!’ said Maurice. ‘Pray how is +any one to make a collection of natural objects without killing +things?’</p> +<p>‘I do not see the use of a collection,’ said Lily; +‘you can examine the creatures and let them go.’</p> +<p>‘Such a young lady’s tender-hearted notion,’ +said Reginald.</p> +<p>‘Who ever heard of a man of science managing in such a +ridiculous way?’</p> +<p>‘Man of science!’ exclaimed Lily, ‘when he +will have forgotten by next Christmas that insects ever +existed.’</p> +<p>It was not convenient to hear this speech, so Maurice turned +an empty flower-pot over his prisoner, and left it in +Jane’s care while he went to fetch the means of +destruction, probably choosing the lawn for the place of +execution, in order to show his contempt for his sisters.</p> +<p>‘Fair damsel in boddice blue,’ said Lily, peeping +in at the hole at the top of the flower-pot, ‘I wish I +could avert your melancholy fate. I am very sorry for you, +but I cannot help it.’</p> +<p>‘You might help it now, at any rate,’ muttered +Claude.</p> +<p>‘No,’ said Lily, ‘I know Monsieur Maurice +too well to arouse his wrath so justly. If you choose to +release the pretty creature, I shall be charmed.’</p> +<p>‘You forget that I am in charge,’ said Jane.</p> +<p>‘There is a carriage coming to the front gate,’ +cried Ada. ‘Emily, may I go into the +drawing-room? Oh, Jenny, will you undo my brown holland +apron?’</p> +<p>‘That is right, little mincing Miss,’ said +Reginald, with a low bow; ‘how fine we are +to-day.’</p> +<p>‘How visitors break into the afternoon,’ said +Emily, with a languid turn of her head.</p> +<p>‘Jenny, brownie,’ called Maurice from his bedroom +window, ‘I want the sulphuric acid.’</p> +<p>Jane sprang up and ran into the house, though her sisters +called after her, that she would come full upon the company in +the hall.</p> +<p>‘They shall not catch me here,’ cried Reginald, +rushing off into the shrubbery.</p> +<p>‘Are you coming in, Claude?’ said Emily.</p> +<p>‘Send Ada to call me, if there is any one worth +seeing,’ said Claude</p> +<p>‘They will see you from the window,’ said +Emily.</p> +<p>‘No,’ said Claude, ‘no one ever found me out +last summer, under these friendly branches.’</p> +<p>The old butler, Joseph, now showed himself on the terrace; and +the young ladies, knowing that he had no intention of crossing +the lawn, hastened to learn from him who their visitors were, and +entered the house. Just then Phyllis came running back from +the kitchen garden, and without looking round, or perceiving +Claude, she took up the flower-pot and released the captive, +which, unconscious of its peril, rested on a blade of grass, +vibrating its gauzy wings and rejoicing in the restored +sunbeams.</p> +<p>‘Fly away, fly away, you pretty creature,’ said +Phyllis; ‘make haste, or Maurice will come and catch you +again. I wish I had not given you such a fright. I +thought you would have been killed, and a pin stuck all through +that pretty blue and black body of yours. Oh! that would be +dreadful. Make haste and go away! I would not have +caught you, you beautiful thing, if I had known what he wanted to +do. I thought he only wanted to look at your beautiful +body, like a little bit of the sky come down to look at the +flowers, and your delicate wings, and great shining eyes. +Oh! I am very glad God made you so beautiful. Oh! there is +Maurice coming. I must blow upon you to make you go. +Oh, that is right—up quite high in the air—quite +safe,’ and she clapped her hands as the dragon-fly rose in +the air, and disappeared behind the laurels, just as Maurice and +Reginald emerged from the shrubbery, the former with a bottle in +his hand.</p> +<p>‘Well, where is the Libellulla?’ said he.</p> +<p>‘The dragon-fly?’ said Phyllis. ‘I let +it out.’</p> +<p>‘Sold, Maurice!’ cried Reginald, laughing at his +brother’s disaster.</p> +<p>‘Upon my word, Phyl, you are very kind!’ said +Maurice, angrily. ‘If I had known you were such an +ill-natured crab—’</p> +<p>‘Oh! Maurice dear, don’t say so,’ +exclaimed Phyllis. ‘I thought I might let it out +because I caught it myself; and I told you I did not catch it for +you to kill; Maurice, indeed, I am sorry I vexed you.’</p> +<p>‘What else did you do it for?’ said Maurice. +‘It is horrid not to be able to leave one’s things a +minute—’</p> +<p>‘But I did not know the dragon-fly belonged to you, +Maurice,’ said Phyllis.</p> +<p>‘That is a puzzler, Mohun senior,’ said +Reginald.</p> +<p>‘Now, Redgie, do get Maurice to leave off being angry +with me,’ implored his sister.</p> +<p>‘I will leave off being angry,’ said Maurice, +seeing his advantage, ‘if you will promise never to let out +my things again.’</p> +<p>‘I do not think I can promise,’ said Phyllis.</p> +<p>‘O yes, you can,’ said Reginald, ‘you know +they are not his.’</p> +<p>‘Promise you will not let out any insects I may +get,’ said Maurice, ‘or I shall say you are as cross +as two sticks.’</p> +<p>‘I’ll tell you what, Maurice,’ said Phyllis, +‘I do wish you would not make me promise, for I do not +think I <i>can</i> keep it, for I cannot bear to see the +beautiful live things killed.’</p> +<p>‘Nonsense,’ said Maurice, fiercely, ‘I am +very angry indeed, you naughty child; promise—’</p> +<p>‘I cannot,’ said Phyllis, beginning to cry.</p> +<p>‘Then,’ said Maurice, ‘I will not speak to +you all day.’</p> +<p>‘No, no,’ shouted Reginald, ‘we will only +treat her like the horse-stinger; you wanted a puella, +Maurice—here is one for you, here, give her a dose of the +turpentine.’</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ said Maurice, advancing with his bottle; +‘and do you take the poker down to Naylor’s to be +sharpened, it will just do to stick through her back. Oh! +no, not Naylor’s—the girls have made a hash there, as +they do everything else; but we will settle her before they come +out again.’</p> +<p>Phyllis screamed and begged for mercy—her last ally had +deserted her.</p> +<p>‘Promise!’ cried the boys.</p> +<p>‘Oh, don’t!’ was all her answer.</p> +<p>Reginald caught her and held her fast, Maurice advanced upon +her, she struggled, and gave a scream of real terror. The +matter was no joke to any one but Reginald, for Maurice was very +angry and really meant to frighten her.</p> +<p>‘Hands off, boys, I will not have her bullied,’ +said Claude, half rising.</p> +<p>Maurice gave a violent start, Reginald looked round laughing, +and exclaimed, ‘Who would have thought of Claude sneaking +there?’ and Phyllis ran to the protecting arm, which he +stretched out. To her great surprise, he drew her to him, +and kissed her forehead, saying, ‘Well done, +Phyl!’</p> +<p>‘Oh, I knew he was not going to hurt me,’ said +Phyllis, still panting from the struggle.</p> +<p>‘To be sure not,’ said Maurice, ‘I only +meant to have a little fun.’</p> +<p>Claude, with his arm still round his sister’s waist, +gave Maurice a look, expressing, ‘Is that the truth?’ +and Reginald tumbled head over heels, exclaiming, ‘I would +not have been Phyl just them.’</p> +<p>Ada now came running up to them, saying, ‘Maurice and +Redgie, you are to come in; Mr. and Mrs. Burnet heard your +voices, and begged to see you, because they never saw you last +holidays.’</p> +<p>‘More’s the pity they should see us now,’ +said Maurice.</p> +<p>‘I shall not go,’ said Reginald.</p> +<p>‘Papa is there, and he sent for you,’ said +Ada.</p> +<p>‘Plague,’ was the answer.</p> +<p>‘See what you get by making such a row,’ said +Claude. ‘If you had been as orderly members of +society as I am—’</p> +<p>‘Oh, but Claude,’ said Ada, ‘papa told me to +see if I could find you. Dear Claude, I wish,’ she +proceeded, taking his hand, and looking engaging, ‘I wish +you would put your arm round me as you do round Phyl.’</p> +<p>‘You are not worth it, Ada,’ said Reginald, and +Claude did not contradict him.</p> +<h2><a name="page78"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +78</span>CHAPTER VIII<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE BROTHERS</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘But smiled to hear the creatures he had +known<br /> +So long were now in class and order shown—<br /> +Genus and species. “Is it meet,” said he,<br /> +“This creature’s name should one so sounding +be—<br /> +’Tis but a fly, though first-born of the spring,<br /> +Bombylius Majus, dost thou call the thing?”</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was not till Sunday, that +Lily’s eager wish was fulfilled, of introducing her friend +and her brothers; but, as she might have foreseen, their first +meeting did not make the perfections of either party very clear +to the other. Claude never spoke to strangers more than he +could help, Maurice and Reginald were in the room only a short +time; so that the result of Miss Weston’s observations, +when communicated in reply to Lily’s eager inquiries, was +only that Claude was very like his father and eldest brother, +Reginald very handsome, and Maurice looked like a very funny +fellow.</p> +<p>On Monday, Reginald and Maurice were required to learn what +they had always refused to acknowledge, that the holidays were +not intended to be spent in idleness. A portion of each +morning was to be devoted to study, Claude having undertaken the +task of tutor—and hard work he found it; and much did Lily +pity him, when, as not unfrequently happened, the summons to the +children’s dinner would bring him from the study, looking +thoroughly fagged—Maurice in so sulky a mood that he would +hardly deign to open his lips—Reginald talking fast enough, +indeed, but only to murmur at his duties in terms, which, though +they made every one laugh, were painful to hear. Then +Claude would take his brothers back to the study, and not appear +for an hour or more, and when he did come forth, it was with a +bad headache. Sometimes, as if to show that it was only +through their own fault that their tasks were wearisome, one or +both boys would finish quite early, when Reginald would betake +himself to the schoolroom and employ his idle time in making it +nearly impossible for Ada and Phyllis to learn, by talking, +laughing, teasing the canary, overturning everything in pursuing +wasps, making Emily fretful by his disobedience, and then +laughing at her, and, in short, proving his right to the title he +had given himself at the end of the only letter he had written +since he first went to school, and which he had subscribed, +‘Your affectionate bother, R. Mohun.’ So that, +for their own sake, all would have preferred the inattentive +mornings.</p> +<p>Lily often tried to persuade Claude to allow her to tell her +father how troublesome the boys were, but never with any +effect. He once took up a book he had been using with them, +and pointing to the name in the first page, in writing, which +Lily knew full well, ‘Henry Mohun,’ she perceived +that he meant to convince her that it was useless to try to +dissuade him, as he thought the patience and forbearance his +brother had shown to him must be repaid by his not shrinking from +the task he had imposed upon himself with his young brothers, +though he was often obliged to sit up part of the night to pursue +his own studies.</p> +<p>If Claude had rather injudiciously talked too much to Lilias +of ‘her principle,’ and thus kept it alive in her +mind, yet his example might have made its fallacy evident. +She believed that what she called love had been the turning point +in his character, that it had been his earnest desire to follow +in Henry’s steps, and so try to comfort his father for his +loss, that had roused him from his indolence; but she was +beginning to see that nothing but a sense of duty could have kept +up the power of that first impulse for six years. Lily +began to enter a little into his principle, and many things that +occurred during these holidays made her mistrust her former +judgment. She saw that without the unvarying principle of +right and wrong, fraternal love itself would fail in outward acts +and words. Forbearance, though undeniably a branch of love, +could not exist without constant remembrance of duty; and which +of them did not sometimes fail in kindness, meekness, and +patience? Did Emily show that softness, which was her most +agreeable characteristic, in her whining reproofs—in her +complaints that ‘no one listened to a word she +said’—in her refusal to do justice even to those who +had vainly been seeking for peace? Did Lily herself show +any of her much valued love, by the sharp manner in which she +scolded the boys for roughness towards herself? or for language +often used by them on purpose to make her displeasure a matter of +amusement? She saw that her want of command of temper was a +failure both in love and duty, and when irritated, the thought of +duty came sooner to her aid than the feeling of love.</p> +<p>And Maurice and Reginald were really very provoking. +Maurice loved no amusement better than teasing his sisters, and +this was almost the only thing in which Reginald agreed with +him. Reginald was affectionate, but too reckless and +violent not to be very troublesome, and he too often flew into a +passion if Maurice attempted to laugh at him; the little girls +were often frightened and made unhappy; Phyllis would scream and +roar, and Ada would come sobbing to Emily, to be comforted after +some rudeness of Reginald’s. It was not very often +that quarrels went so far, but many a time in thought, word, and +deed was the rule of love transgressed, and more than once did +Emily feel ready to give up all her dignity, to have +Eleanor’s hand over the boys once more. Claude, +finding that he could do much to prevent mischief, took care not +to leave the two boys long together with the elder girls. +They were far more inoffensive when separate, as Maurice never +practised his tormenting tricks when no one was present to laugh +with him, and Reginald was very kind to Phyllis and Ada, although +somewhat rude.</p> +<p>It was a day or two after they returned that Phyllis was +leaning on the window-sill in the drawing-room, watching a +passing shower, and admiring the soft bright tints of a rainbow +upon the dark gray mass of cloud. ‘I do set my bow in +the cloud,’ repeated she to herself over and over again, +until Adeline entering the room, she eagerly exclaimed, ‘Oh +Ada, come and look at this beautiful rainbow, green, and pink, +and purple. A double one, with so many stripes, Ada. +See, there is a little bit more green.’</p> +<p>‘There is no green in a rainbow,’ said Ada.</p> +<p>‘But look, Ada, that is green.’</p> +<p>‘It is not real green. Blue, red, and yellow are +the pragmatic colours,’ said Ada, with a most triumphant +air. ‘Now are not they, Maurice?’ said she, +turning to her brother, who was, as usual, deep in +entomology.</p> +<p>‘Pragmatic, you foolish child,’ said he. +‘Prismatic you mean. I am glad you remember what I +tell you, however; I think I might teach you some science in +time. You are right in saying that blue, red, and yellow +are the prismatic colours. Now do you know what causes a +rainbow?’</p> +<p>‘It is to show there is never to be another +flood,’ said Phyllis, gravely.</p> +<p>‘Oh, I did not mean that,’ said Maurice, +addressing himself to Ada, whose love of hard words made him deem +her a promising pupil, and whom he could lecture without +interruption. ‘The rainbow is caused +by—’</p> +<p>‘But, Maurice!’ exclaimed Phyllis, remaining with +mouth wide open.</p> +<p>‘The rainbow is occasioned by the refraction of the rays +of the sun in the drops of water of which a cloud is +composed.’</p> +<p>‘But, Maurice!’ again said Phyllis.</p> +<p>‘Well, what do you keep on “but, Mauricing,” +about?’</p> +<p>‘But, Maurice, I thought it said, “I do set my bow +in the cloud.” Is not that right? I will +look.’</p> +<p>‘I know that, but I know the iris, or rainbow, is a +natural phenomenon occasioned by the refraction.’</p> +<p>‘But, Maurice, I can’t bear you to say +that;’ and poor Phyllis sat down and began to cry.</p> +<p>Ada interfered. ‘Why, Maurice, you believe the +Bible, don’t you?’</p> +<p>This last speech was heard by Lilias, who just now entered the +room, and greatly surprised her. ‘What can you be +talking of?’ said she.</p> +<p>‘Only some nonsense of the children’s,’ said +Maurice, shortly.</p> +<p>‘But only hear what he says,’ cried Ada. +‘He says the rainbow was not put there to show there is +never to be another flood!’</p> +<p>‘Now, Lily,’ said Maurice, ‘I do not think +there is much use in talking to you, but I wish you to understand +that all I said was, that the rainbow, or iris, is a natural +phenomenon occasioned by the refraction of the +solar—’</p> +<p>‘You will certainly bewilder yourself into something +dreadful with that horrid science,’ said Lily. +‘What is the matter with Phyl?’</p> +<p>‘Only crying because of what I said,’ answered +Maurice. ‘So childish, and you are just as +bad.’</p> +<p>‘But do you mean to say,’ exclaimed Lily, +‘that you set this human theory above the authority of the +Bible?’</p> +<p>‘It is common sense,’ said Maurice; ‘I could +make a rainbow any day.’</p> +<p>Whereupon Phyllis cried the more, and Lily looked infinitely +shocked. ‘This is philosophy and vain deceit,’ +said she; ‘the very thing that tends to +infidelity.’</p> +<p>‘I can’t help it—it is universally +allowed,’ said the boy doggedly.</p> +<p>It was fortunate that the next person who entered the room was +Claude, and all at once he was appealed to by the four +disputants, Lily the loudest and most vehement. +‘Claude, listen to him, and tell him to throw away these +hateful new lights, which lead to everything that is +shocking!’</p> +<p>‘Listen to him, with three ladies talking at +once?’ said Claude. ‘No, not Phyl—her +tears only are eloquent; but it is a mighty war about the token +of peace and <i>love</i>, Lily.’</p> +<p>‘The love would be in driving these horrible +philosophical speculations out of Maurice’s mind,’ +said Lily.</p> +<p>‘No one can ever drive out the truth,’ said +Maurice, with provoking coolness. ‘Don’t let +her scratch out my eyes, Claude.’</p> +<p>‘I am not so sure of that maxim,’ said +Claude. ‘Truth is chiefly injured—I mean, her +force weakened, by her own supporters.’</p> +<p>‘Then you agree with me,’ said Maurice, ‘as, +in fact, every rational person must.’</p> +<p>‘Then you are with me,’ said Lily, in the same +breath; ‘and you will convince Maurice of the danger of +this nonsense.’</p> +<p>‘Umph,’ sighed Claude, throwing himself into his +father’s arm-chair, ‘’tis a Herculean +labour! It seems I agree with you both.’</p> +<p>‘Why, every Christian must be with me, who has not lost +his way in a mist of his own raising,’ said Lilias.</p> +<p>‘Do you mean to say,’ said Maurice, ‘that +these colours are not produced by refraction? Look at them +on those prisms;’ and he pointed to an old-fashioned lustre +on the chimney-piece. ‘I hope this is not a part of +the Christian faith.’</p> +<p>‘Take care, Maurice,’ and Claude’s eyes were +bent upon him in a manner that made him shrink. And he +added, ‘Of course I do believe that chapter about +Noah. I only meant that the immediate cause of the rainbow +is the refraction of light. I did not mean to be +irreverent, only the girls took me up in such a way.’</p> +<p>‘And I know well enough that you can make those colours +by light on drops of water,’ said Lily.</p> +<p>‘So you agreed all the time,’ said Claude.</p> +<p>‘But,’ added Lily, ‘I never liked to know +it; for it always seemed to be explaining away the Bible, and I +cannot bear not to regard that lovely bow as a constant +miracle.’</p> +<p>‘You will remember,’ said Claude, ‘that some +commentators say it should be, “I <i>have</i> set my bow in +the cloud,” which would make what already existed become a +token for the future.</p> +<p>‘I don’t like that explanation,’ said +Lily.</p> +<p>‘Others say,’ added Claude, ‘that there +might have been no rain at all till the windows of heaven were +opened at the flood, and, in that case, the first recurrence of +rain must have greatly alarmed Noah’s family, if they had +not been supported and cheered by the sight of the +rainbow.’</p> +<p>‘That is reasonable,’ said Maurice.</p> +<p>‘I hate reason applied to revelation,’ said +Lily.</p> +<p>‘It is a happier state of mind which does not seek to +apply it,’ said Claude, looking at Phyllis, who had dried +her tears, and stood in the window gazing at him, in the happy +certainty that he was setting all right. Maurice respected +Claude for his science as much as his character, and did not make +game of this observation as he would if it had been made by one +of his sisters, but he looked at him with an odd expression of +perplexity. ‘You do not think ignorant credulity +better than reasonable belief?’ said he at length.</p> +<p>‘It is not I only who think most highly of child-like +unquestioning faith, Maurice,’ said +Claude—‘faith, that is based upon love and +reverence,’ added he to Lily. ‘But come, the +shower is over, and philosophers, or no philosophers, I invite +you to walk in the wood.’</p> +<p>‘Aye,’ said Maurice, ‘I daresay I can find +some of the Arachne species there. By the bye, Claude, do +you think papa would let me have a piece of plate-glass, eighteen +by twenty, to cover my case of insects?’</p> +<p>‘Ask, and you will discover,’ said Claude.</p> +<p>Accordingly, Maurice began the next morning at breakfast, +‘Papa, may I have a piece of plate-glass, eighteen +by—?’</p> +<p>But no one heard, for Emily was at the moment saying, +‘The Westons are to dine here to-day.’</p> +<p>Claude and Maurice both looked blank.</p> +<p>‘I persuaded papa to ask the Westons,’ said Lily, +‘because I am determined that Claude shall like +Alethea.’</p> +<p>‘You must expect that I shall not, you have given me so +many orders on the subject,’ said Claude.</p> +<p>‘Take care it has not the same effect as to tell Maurice +to like a book,’ said Emily; ‘nothing makes his +aversion so certain.’</p> +<p>‘Except when he takes it up by mistake, and forgets that +it has been recommended to him,’ said Claude.</p> +<p>‘Take care, Redgie, with your knife; don’t put out +my eyes in your ardour against that wretched wasp. Wat +Greenwood may well say “there is a terrible sight of +waspses this year.”’</p> +<p>‘I killed twenty-nine yesterday,’ said +Reginald.</p> +<p>‘And I will tell you what I saw,’ said Phyllis; +‘I was picking up apples, and the wasps were flying all +round, and there came a hornet.’</p> +<p>‘Vespa Crabro!’ cried Maurice; ‘oh, I must +have one!’</p> +<p>‘Well, what of the hornet?’ said Mr. Mohun.</p> +<p>‘I’ll tell you what,’ resumed Phyllis, +‘he saw a wasp flying, and so he went up in the air, and +pounced on the poor wasp as the hawk did on Jane’s +bantam. So then he hung himself up to the branch of a tree +by one of his legs, and held the wasp with the other five, and +began to pack it up. First he bit off the yellow tail, then +the legs, and threw them away, and then there was nothing left +but the head, and so he flew away with it to his nest.’</p> +<p>‘Which way did he go?’ said Maurice.</p> +<p>‘To the Old Court,’ answered Phyllis; ‘I +think the nest is in the roof of the old cow-house, for they were +flying in and out there yesterday, and one was eating out the +wood from the old rails.’</p> +<p>‘Well,’ said Mr. Mohun, ‘you must show me a +hornet hawking for wasps before the nest is taken, Phyllis; I +suppose you have seen the wasps catching flies?’</p> +<p>‘Oh yes, papa! but they pack them up quite +differently. They do not hang by one leg, but they sit down +quite comfortably on a branch while they bite off the wings and +legs.’</p> +<p>‘There, Maurice,’ said Mr. Mohun, ‘I had +rather hear of one such well-observed fact than of a dozen of +your hard names and impaled insects.’</p> +<p>Phyllis looked quite radiant with delight at his +approbation.</p> +<p>‘But, papa,’ said Maurice, ‘may I have a +piece of plate-glass, eighteen by twenty?’</p> +<p>‘When you observe facts in natural history, perhaps I +may say something to your entomology,’ said Mr. Mohun.</p> +<p>‘But, papa, all my insects will be spoilt if I may not +have a piece of glass, eighteen by—’</p> +<p>He was interrupted by the arrival of the post-bag, which Jane, +as usual, opened. ‘A letter from Rotherwood,’ +said she; ‘I hope he is coming at last.’</p> +<p>‘He is,’ said Claude, reading the letter, +‘but only from Saturday till Wednesday.’</p> +<p>‘He never gave us so little of his good company as he +has this summer,’ said Emily.</p> +<p>‘You will have them all in the autumn, to comfort +you,’ said Claude, ‘for he hereby announces the +marvellous fact, that the Marchioness sends him to see if the +castle is fit to receive her.’</p> +<p>‘Are you sure he is not only believing what he +wishes?’ said Mr. Mohun.</p> +<p>‘I think he will gain his point at last,’ said +Claude.</p> +<p>‘How stupid of him to stay no longer!’ said +Reginald.</p> +<p>‘I think he has some scheme for this vacation,’ +said Claude, ‘and I suppose he means to crowd all the +Beechcroft diversions of a whole summer into those few +days.’</p> +<p>‘Emily,’ said Mr. Mohun, ‘I wish him to know +the Carringtons; invite them and the Westons to dinner on +Tuesday.’</p> +<p>‘Oh don’t!’ cried Reginald. ‘It +will be so jolly to have him to take wasps’ nests; and may +I go out rabbit-shooting with him?’</p> +<p>‘If he goes.’</p> +<p>‘And may I carry a gun?’</p> +<p>‘If it is not loaded,’ said his father.</p> +<p>‘Indeed, I would do no mischief,’ said +Reginald.</p> +<p>‘Let me give you one piece of advice, Reginald,’ +said Mr. Mohun, with a mysterious air—‘never make +rash promises.’</p> +<p>Lilias was rather disappointed in her hopes that Miss Weston +and Claude would become better acquainted. At dinner the +conversation was almost entirely between the elder gentlemen; +Claude scarcely spoke, except when referred to by his father or +Mr. Devereux. Miss Weston never liked to incur the danger +of having to repeat her insignificant speeches to a deaf ear, and +being interested in the discussion that was going on, she by no +means seconded Lily’s attempt to get up an under-current of +talk. In general, Lily liked to listen to conversation in +silence, but she was now in very high spirits, and could not be +quiet; fortunately, she had no interest in the subject the +gentlemen were discussing, so that she could not meddle with +that, and finding Alethea silent and Claude out of reach, she +turned to Reginald, and talked and tittered with him all +dinner-time.</p> +<p>In the drawing-room she had it all her own way, and talked +enough for all the sisters.</p> +<p>‘Have you heard that Cousin Rotherwood is +coming?’</p> +<p>‘Yes, you said so before dinner.’</p> +<p>‘We hope,’ said Emily, ‘that you and Mr. +Weston will dine here on Tuesday. The Carringtons are +coming, and a few others.’</p> +<p>‘Thank you,’ said Alethea; ‘I daresay papa +will be very glad to come.’</p> +<p>‘Have you ever seen Rotherwood?’ said Lilias.</p> +<p>‘Never,’ was the reply.</p> +<p>‘Do not expect much,’ said Lily, laughing, though +she knew not why; ‘he is a very little fellow; no one would +suppose him to be twenty, he has such a boyish look. Then +he never sits down—’</p> +<p>‘Literally?’ said Emily.</p> +<p>‘Literally,’ persisted Lily; ‘such a quick +person you never did see.’</p> +<p>‘Is he at Oxford?’</p> +<p>‘Oh yes! it was all papa’s doing that he was sent +to Eton. Papa is his guardian. Aunt Rotherwood never +would have parted with him.’</p> +<p>‘He is the only son,’ interposed Emily.</p> +<p>‘Uncle Rotherwood put him quite in papa’s power; +Aunt Rotherwood wanted to keep him at home with a tutor, and what +she would have made of him I cannot think,’ said Lily; and +regardless of Emily’s warning frowns, and Alethea’s +attempt to change the subject, she went on: ‘When he was +quite a child he used to seem a realisation of all the naughty +Dicks and Toms in story-books. Miss Middleton had a perfect +horror of his coming here, for he would mind no one, and played +tricks and drew Claude into mischief; but he is quite altered +since papa had the management of him—Oh! such talks as papa +has had with Aunt Rotherwood—do you know, papa says no one +knows what it is to lose a father but those who have the care of +his children, and Aunt Rotherwood is so provoking.’</p> +<p>Here Alethea determined to put an end to this oration, and to +Emily’s great relief, she cut short the detail of Lady +Rotherwood’s offences by saying, ‘Do you think Faith +Longley likely to suit us, if we took her to help the +housemaid?’</p> +<p>‘Are you thinking of taking her?’ cried +Lily. ‘Yes, for steady, stupid household work, Faith +would do very well; she is just the stuff to make a servant +of—“for dulness ever must be regular”—I +mean for those who like mere steadiness better than anything more +lovable.’</p> +<p>As Alethea said, laughing, ‘I must confess my respect +for that quality,’ Mr. Devereux and Claude entered the +room.</p> +<p>‘Oh, Robert!’ cried Lily, ‘Mrs. Weston is +going to take Faith Longley to help the housemaid.’</p> +<p>‘You are travelling too fast, Lily,’ said Alethea, +‘she is only going to think about it.’</p> +<p>‘I should be very glad,’ said Mr. Devereux, +‘that Faith should have a good place; the Longleys are very +respectable people, and they behaved particularly well in +refusing to let this girl go and live with some dissenters at +Stoney Bridge.’</p> +<p>‘I like what I have seen of the girl very much,’ +said Miss Weston.</p> +<p>‘In spite of her sad want of feeling,’ said +Robert, smiling, as he looked at Lily.</p> +<p>‘Oh! she is a good work-a-day sort of person,’ +said Lily, ‘like all other poor people, hard and +passive. Now, do not set up your eyebrows, Claude, I am +quite serious, there is no warmth about any +except—’</p> +<p>‘So this is what Lily is come to!’ cried Emily; +‘the grand supporter of the poor on poetical +principles.’</p> +<p>‘The poor not affectionate!’ said Alethea.</p> +<p>‘Not, compared within people whose minds and affections +have been cultivated,’ said Lily. ‘Now just +hear what Mrs. Wall said to me only yesterday; she asked for a +black stuff gown out of the clothing club, “for,” +said she, “I had a misfortune, Miss;” I thought it +would be, “and tore my gown,” but it was, “I +had a misfortune, Miss, and lost my brother.”’</p> +<p>‘A very harsh conclusion on very slight grounds,’ +said Mr. Devereux.</p> +<p>‘Prove the contrary,’ said Lily.</p> +<p>‘Facts would scarcely demonstrate it either way,’ +said Mr. Devereux. ‘They would only prove what was +the case with individuals who chanced to come in our way, and if +we are seldom able to judge of the depth of feeling of those with +whom we are familiar, how much less of those who feel our +presence a restraint.’</p> +<p>‘Intense feeling mocks restraint,’ said Lily.</p> +<p>‘Violent, not intense,’ said Mr. Devereux. +‘Besides, you talk of cultivating the affections. Now +what do you mean? Exercising them, or talking about +them?’</p> +<p>‘Ah!’ said Emily, ‘the affection of a poor +person is more tried; we blame a poor man for letting his old +mother go to the workhouse, without considering how many of us +would do the same, if we had as little to live upon.’</p> +<p>‘Still,’ said Alethea, ‘the same man who +would refuse to maintain her if poor, would not bear with her +infirmities if rich.’</p> +<p>‘Are the poor never infirm and peevish?’ said Mr. +Devereux.</p> +<p>‘Oh! how much worse it must be to bear with ill-temper +in poverty,’ said Emily, ‘when we think it quite +wonderful to see a young lady kind and patient with a cross old +relation; what must it be when she is denying herself, not only +her pleasure, but her food for her sake; not merely sitting +quietly with her all day, and calling a servant to wait upon her, +but toiling all day to maintain her, and keeping awake half the +night to nurse her?’</p> +<p>‘Those are realities, indeed,’ said Alethea; +‘our greatest efforts seem but child’s play in +comparison.’</p> +<p>Lilias could hardly have helped being sobered by this +conversation if she had attended to it, but she had turned away +to repeat the story of Mrs. Walls to Jane, and then, fancying +that the others were still remarking upon it, she said in a +light, laughing tone, ‘Well, so far I agree with you. +I know of a person who may well be called one of ourselves, who I +could quite fancy making such a speech.’</p> +<p>‘Whom do you mean?’ said Mr. Devereux. +Alethea wished she did not know.</p> +<p>‘No very distant relation,’ said Jane.</p> +<p>‘Do not talk nonsense, Jane,’ said Claude, +gravely.</p> +<p>‘No nonsense at all, Claude,’ cried Jane in her +very very pertest tone, ‘it is exactly like Eleanor; I am +sure I can see her with her hands before her, saying in her prim +voice, “I must turn my old black silk and trim it with +crape, for I have had a misfortune, and lost my +brother.”’</p> +<p>‘Lilias,’ said Miss Weston, somewhat abruptly, +‘did you not wish to sing with me this evening?’</p> +<p>And thus she kept Lilias from any further public mischief that +evening.</p> +<p>Claude, exceedingly vexed by what had passed, with great +injustice, laid the blame upon Miss Weston, and instead of +rendering her the honour which she really deserved for the tact +with which she had put an end to the embarrassment of all +parties, he fancied she was anxious to display her talents for +music, and thus only felt fretted by the sounds.</p> +<p>Mr. Weston and his daughter intended to walk home that +evening, as it was a beautiful moonlight night.</p> +<p>‘Oh, let us convoy you!’ exclaimed Lilias; +‘I do long to show Alethea a glow-worm. Will you +come, Claude? May we, papa? Feel how still and warm +it is. A perfect summer night, not a breath +stirring.’</p> +<p>Mr. Mohun consented, and Lily almost hurried Alethea upstairs, +to put on her bonnet and shawl. When she came down she +found that the walking party had increased. Jane and +Reginald would both have been in despair to have missed such a +frolic; Maurice hoped to fall in with the droning beetle, or to +lay violent hands on a glow-worm; Emily did not like to be left +behind, and even Mr. Mohun was going, being in the midst of an +interesting conversation with Mr. Weston. Lily, with an +absurd tragic gesture, told Alethea that amongst so many, such a +crowd, all the grace and sweet influence of the walk was +ruined. The ‘sweet influence’ was ruined as far +as Lily was concerned, but not by the number of her +companions. It was the uneasy feeling caused by her +over-strained spirits and foolish chattering that prevented her +from really entering into the charm of the soft air, the clear +moon, the solemn deep blue sky, the few stars, the white lilies +on the dark pond, the long shadows of the trees, the freshness of +the dewy fields. Her simplicity, and her genuine delight in +the loveliness of the scene, was gone for the time, and though +she spoke much of her enjoyment, it was in a high-flown affected +style.</p> +<p>When the last good-night had been exchanged, and Lily had +turned homeward, she felt the stillness which succeeded their +farewells almost oppressive; she started at the dark shadow of a +tree which lay across the path, and to shake off a sensation of +fear which was coming over her, she put her arm within +Claude’s, exclaiming, ‘You naughty boy, you will be +stupid and silent, say what I will.’</p> +<p>‘I heard enough to-night to strike me dumb,’ said +Claude.</p> +<p>For one moment Lily thought he was in jest, but the gravity of +his manner showed her that he was both grieved and displeased, +and she changed her tone as she said, ‘Oh! Claude, +what do you mean?’</p> +<p>‘Do you not know?’ said Claude.</p> +<p>‘What, you mean about Eleanor?’ said Lily; +‘you must fall upon Miss Jenny there—it was her +doing.’</p> +<p>‘Jane’s tongue is a pest,’ said Claude; +‘but she was not the first to speak evil falsely of one to +whom you owe everything. Oh! Lily, I cannot tell you +how that allusion of yours sounded.’</p> +<p>‘What allusion?’ asked Lily in alarm, for she had +never seen her gentle brother so angry.</p> +<p>‘You know,’ said he.</p> +<p>‘Indeed, I do not,’ exclaimed Lily, munch +frightened. ‘Claude, Claude, you must mistake, I +never could have said anything so very shocking.’</p> +<p>‘I hope I do,’ said Claude; ‘I could hardly +believe that one of the little ones who cannot remember him, +could have referred to him in that way—but for +you!’</p> +<p>‘Him?’ said Lilias.</p> +<p>‘I do not like to mention his name to one who regards +him so lightly,’ said Claude. ‘Think over what +passed, if you are sufficiently come to yourself to remember +it.’</p> +<p>After a little pause Lily said in a subdued voice, +‘Claude, I hope you do not believe that I was thinking of +what really happened when I said that.’</p> +<p>‘Pray what were you thinking of?’</p> +<p>‘The abstract view of Eleanor’s +character.’</p> +<p>‘Abstract nonsense!’ said Claude. ‘A +fine demonstration of the rule of love, to go about the world +slandering your sister!’</p> +<p>‘To go about the world! Oh! Claude, it was +only Robert, one of ourselves, and Alethea, to whom I tell +everything.’</p> +<p>‘So much the worse. I always rejoiced that you had +no foolish young lady friend to make missish confidences +to.’</p> +<p>‘She is no foolish young lady friend,’ said +Lilias, indignant in her turn; ‘she is five years older +than I am, and papa wishes us to be intimate with her.’</p> +<p>‘Then the fault is in yourself,’ said +Claude. ‘You ought not to have told such things if +they were true, and being utterly false—’</p> +<p>‘But, Claude, I cannot see that they are +false.’</p> +<p>‘Not false, that Eleanor cared not a farthing for +Harry!’ cried Claude, shaking off Lily’s arm, and +stopping short.</p> +<p>‘Oh!—she cared, she really did care,’ said +Lily, as fast as she could speak. ‘Oh! Claude, +how could you think that? I told you I did not mean what +really happened, only that—Eleanor is cold—not as +warm as some people—she did care for him, of course she +did—I know that—I believe she loved him with all her +heart—but yet—I mean she did not—she went on as +usual—said nothing—scarcely cried—looked the +same—taught us—never—Oh! it did not make half +the difference in her that it did in William.’</p> +<p>‘I cannot tell how she behaved at the time,’ said +Claude, ‘I only know I never had any idea what a loss Harry +was till I came home and saw her face. I used never to +trouble myself to think whether people looked ill or well, but +the change in her did strike me. She was bearing up to +comfort papa, and to cheer William, and to do her duty by all of +us, and you could take such noble resignation for want of +feeling!’</p> +<p>Lilias looked down and tried to speak, but she was choked by +her tears; she could not bear Claude’s displeasure, and she +wept in silence. At last she said in a voice broken by +sobs, ‘I was unjust—I know Eleanor was all +kindness—all self-sacrifice—I have been very +ungrateful—I wish I could help it—and you know well, +Claude, how far I am from regarding dear Harry with +indifference—how the thought of him is a star in my +mind—how happy it makes me to think of him at the end of +the Church Militant Prayer; do not believe I was dreaming of +him.’</p> +<p>‘And pray,’ said Claude, laughing in his own +good-humoured way, ‘which of us is it that she is so +willing to lose?’</p> +<p>‘Oh! Claude, no such thing,’ said Lily, ‘you +know what I meant, or did not mean. It was nonsense—I +hope nothing worse.’ Lily felt that she might take +his arm again. There was a little silence, and then Lily +resumed in a timid voice, ‘I do not know whether you will +be angry, Claude, but honestly, I do not think that if—that +Eleanor would be so wretched about you as I should.’</p> +<p>‘Eleanor knew Harry better than you did; no, Lily, I +never could have been what Harry was, even if I had never wasted +my time, and if my headaches had not interfered with my best +efforts.’</p> +<p>‘I do not believe that, say what you will,’ said +Lily.</p> +<p>‘Ask William, then,’ said Claude, sighing.</p> +<p>‘I am sure papa does not think so,’ said Lily; +‘no, I cannot feel that Harry is such a loss when we still +have you.’</p> +<p>‘Oh! Lily, it is plain that you never knew Harry,’ +said Claude. ‘I do not believe you ever +did—that is one ting to be said for you.’</p> +<p>‘Not as you did,’ said Lily; ‘remember, he +was six years older. Then think how little we saw of him +whilst they were abroad; he was always at school, or spending the +holidays with Aunt Robert, and latterly even farther off, and +only coming sometimes for an hour or two to see us. Then he +used to kiss us all round, we went into the garden with him, +looked at him, and were rather afraid of him; then he walked off +to Wat Greenwood, came back, wished us good-bye, and away he +went.’</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ said Claude, ‘but after they came +home?’</p> +<p>‘Then he was a tall youth, and we were silly +girls,’ said Lilias; ‘he avoided Miss Middleton, and +we were always with her. He was good-natured, but he could +not get on with us; he did very well with the little ones, but we +were of the wrong age. He and William and Eleanor were one +faction, we were another, and you were between both—he was +too old, too sublime, too good, too grave for us.’</p> +<p>‘Too grave!’ said Claude; ‘I never heard a +laugh so full of glee, except, perhaps, +Phyllis’s.’</p> +<p>‘The last time he was at home,’ continued Lily, +‘we began to know him better; there was no Miss Middleton +in the way, and after you and William were gone, he used to walk +with us, and read to us. He read <i>Guy Mannering</i> to +us, and told us the story of Sir Maurice de Mohun; but the loss +was not the same to us as to you elder ones; and then sorrow was +almost lost in admiration, and in pleasure at the terms in which +every one spoke of him. Claude, I have no difficulty in not +wishing it otherwise; he is still my brother, and I would not +change the feeling which the thought of his death gives +me—no, not for himself in life and health.’</p> +<p>‘Ah!’ sighed Claude, ‘you have no cause for +self-reproach—no reason to lament over “wasted hours +and love misspent.”’</p> +<p>‘You will always talk of your old indolence, as if it +was a great crime,’ said Lily.</p> +<p>‘It was my chief temptation,’ said Claude. +‘As long as we know we are out of the path of duty it does +not make much difference whether we have turned to the right hand +or to the left.’</p> +<p>‘Was it Harry’s death that made you look upon it +in this light?’ said Lily.</p> +<p>‘I knew it well enough before,’ said Claude, +‘it was what he had often set before me. Indeed, till +I came home, and saw this place without him, I never really knew +what a loss he was. At Eton I did not miss him more than +when he went to Oxford, and I did not dwell on what he was to +papa, or what I ought to be; and even when I saw what home was +without him, I should have contented myself with miserable +excuses about my health, if it had not been for my confirmation; +then I awoke, I saw my duty, and the wretched way in which I had +been spending my time. Thoughts of Harry and of my father +came afterwards; I had not vigour enough for them +before.’</p> +<p>Here they reached the house, and parted—Claude, ashamed +of having talked of himself for the first time in his life, and +Lily divided between shame at her own folly and pleasure at +Claude’s having thus opened his mind.</p> +<p>Jane, who was most in fault, escaped censure. Her father +was ignorant of her improper speech. Emily forgot it, and +it was not Claude’s place to reprove his sisters, though to +Lily he spoke as a friend. It passed away from her mind +like other idle words, which, however, could not but leave an +impression on those who heard her.</p> +<p>An unlooked-for result of the folly of this evening was, that +Claude was prevented from appreciating Miss Weston He could not +learn to like her, nor shake off an idea, that she was prying +into their family concerns; he thought her over-praised, and +would not even give just admiration to her singing, because he +had once fancied her eager to exhibit it. It was +unreasonable to dislike his sister’s friend for his +sister’s folly, but Claude’s wisdom was not yet +arrived at its full growth, and he deserved credit for keeping +his opinion to himself.</p> +<h2><a name="page101"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +101</span>CHAPTER IX<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE WASP</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘Whom He hath blessed and called His own,<br +/> +He tries them early, look and tone,<br /> + Bent brow and throbbing heart,<br /> +Tries them with pain.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> next week Lily had the pleasure +of fitting out Faith Longley for her place at Mrs. +Weston’s. She rejoiced at this opportunity of +patronising her, because in her secret soul she felt that she +might have done her a little injustice in choosing her own +favourite Esther in her stead. Esther’s popularity at +the New Court, however, made Lilias confident in her own +judgment; the servants liked her because she was quick and +obliging, Mr. Mohun said she looked very neat, Phyllis liked her +because a mischance to her frock was not so brave an offence with +her as with Rachel, and Ada was growing very fond of her, because +she was in the habit of bestowing great admiration on her golden +curls as she arranged them, and both little girls were glad not +to be compelled to put away the playthings they took out.</p> +<p>Maurice and Reginald had agreed to defer their onslaught on +the wasps till Lord Rotherwood’s arrival, and the war was +now limited to attacks on foraging parties. Reginald most +carefully marked every nest about the garden and farm, and, on +his cousin’s arrival on Saturday evening, began eagerly to +give him a list of their localities. Lord Rotherwood was as +ardent in the cause as even Reginald could desire, and would have +instantly set out with him to reconnoitre had not the evening +been rainy.</p> +<p>Then turning to Claude, he said, ‘But I have not told +you what brought me here; I came to persuade you to make an +expedition with me up the Rhine; I set off next week; I would not +write about it, because I knew you would only say you should like +it very much, but—some but, that meant it was a great deal +too much trouble.’</p> +<p>‘How fast the plan has risen up,’ said Claude, +‘I heard nothing of it when I was with you.’</p> +<p>‘Oh! it only came into my head last week, but I do not +see what there is to wait for, second thoughts are never +best.’</p> +<p>‘Oh! Claude, how delightful,’ said Lily.</p> +<p>Claude stirred his tea meditatively, and did not speak.</p> +<p>‘It is too much trouble, I perceive,’ said Lord +Rotherwood; ‘just as I told you.’</p> +<p>‘Not exactly,’ said Claude.</p> +<p>Lord Rotherwood now detailed his plan to his uncle, who said +with a propitious smile, ‘Well, Claude, what do you think +of it?</p> +<p>‘Mind you catch a firefly for me,’ said +Maurice.</p> +<p>‘Why don’t you answer, Claude?’ said Lilias; +‘only imagine seeing Undine’s Castle!’</p> +<p>‘Eh, Claude?’ said his father.</p> +<p>‘It would be very pleasant,’ said Claude, slowly, +‘but—’</p> +<p>‘What?’ said Mr. Mohun.</p> +<p>‘Only a but,’ said the Marquis. ‘I +hope he will have disposed of it by the morning; I start next +Tuesday week; I would not go later for the universe; we shall be +just in time for the summer in its beauty, and to have a peep at +Switzerland. We shall not have time for Mont Blanc, without +rattling faster than any man in his senses would do. I do +not mean to leave any place till I have thoroughly seen twice +over everything worth seeing that it contains.’</p> +<p>‘Then perhaps you will get as far as Antwerp, and spend +the rest of the holidays between the Cathedral and Paul +Potter’s bull. No, I shall have nothing to say to you +at that rate,’ said Claude.</p> +<p>‘Depend upon it, it will be you that will wish to stand +still when I had rather be on the move,’ said the +Marquis.</p> +<p>‘Then you had better leave me behind. I have no +intention of being hurried over the world, and never having my +own way,’ said Claude, trying to look surly.</p> +<p>‘I am sure I should not mind travelling twice over the +world to see Cologne Cathedral, or the field of Waterloo,’ +said Lily.</p> +<p>‘Let me only show him my route,’ said Lord +Rotherwood. ‘Redgie, look in my greatcoat pocket in +the hall for Murray’s Handbook, will you?’</p> +<p>‘Go and get it, Phyl,’ said Reginald, who was +astride on the window-sill, peeling a stick.</p> +<p>Away darted Lord Rotherwood to fetch it himself, but Phyllis +was before him; her merry laugh was heard, as he chased her round +the hall to get possession of his book, throwing down two or +three cloaks to intercept her path. Mr. Mohun took the +opportunity of his absence to tell Claude that he need not refuse +on the score of expense.</p> +<p>‘Thank you,’ was all Claude’s answer.</p> +<p>Lord Rotherwood returned, and after punishing the discourteous +Reginald by raising him up by his ears, he proceeded to give a +full description of the delights of his expedition, the girls +joining heartily with him in declaring it as well arranged as +possible, and bringing all their knowledge of German travels to +bear upon it. Claude sometimes put in a word, but never as +if he cared much about the matter, and he was not to be persuaded +to give any decided answer as to whether he would accompany the +Marquis.</p> +<p>The next morning at breakfast Lord Rotherwood returned to the +charge, but Claude seemed even more inclined to refuse than the +day before. Lilias could not divine what was the matter +with him, and lingered long after her sisters had gone to school, +to hear what answer he would make; and when Mr. Mohun looked at +his watch, and asked her if she knew how late it was, she rose +from the breakfast-table with a sigh, and thought while she was +putting on her bonnet how much less agreeable the school had been +since the schism in the parish. And besides, now that Faith +and Esther, and one or two others of her best scholars, had gone +away from school, there seemed to be no one of any intelligence +or knowledge left in the class, except Marianne Weston, who knew +too much for the others, and one or two clever inattentive little +girls: Lily almost disliked teaching them.</p> +<p>Phyllis and Adeline were in Miss Weston’s class, and +much did they delight in her teaching. There was a quiet +earnestness in her manner which attracted her pupils, and fixed +their attention, so as scarcely to allow the careless room for +irreverence, while mere cleverness seemed almost to lose its +advantage in learning what can only truly be entered into by +those whose conduct agrees with their knowledge.</p> +<p>Phyllis never dreamt that she could be happy while standing +still and learning, till Miss Weston began to teach at the Sunday +school. Obedience at school taught her to acquire habits of +reverent attention, which gradually conquered the idleness and +weariness which had once possessed her at church. First, +she learnt to be interested in the Historical Lessons, then never +to lose her place in the Psalms, then to think about and follow +some of the Prayers; by this time she was far from feeling any +fatigue at all on week-days; she had succeeded in restraining any +contortions to relieve herself from the irksomeness of sitting +still, and had her thoughts in tolerable order through the +greater part of the Sunday service, and now it was her great +wish, unknown to any one, to abstain from a single yawn through +the whole service, including the sermon!</p> +<p>Her place (chosen for her by Eleanor when first she had begun +to go to Church, as far as possible from Reginald) was at the end +of the seat, between her papa and the wall. This morning, +as she put her arm on the book-board, while rising from kneeling, +she felt a sudden thrill of sharp pain smear her left elbow, +which made her start violently, and would have caused a scream, +had she not been in church. She saw a wasp fall on the +ground, and was just about to put her foot on it, when she +recollected where she was. She had never in her life +intentionally killed anything, and this was no time to begin in +that place, and when she was angry. The pain was +severe—more so perhaps than any she had felt +before—and very much frightened, she pulled her +papa’s coat to draw his attention. But her first pull +was so slight that he did not feel it, and before she gave a +second she remembered that she could not make him hear what was +the matter, without more noise than was proper. No, she +must stay where she was, and try to bear the pain, and she knew +that if she did try, help would be given her. She proceeded +to find out the Psalm and join her voice with the others, though +her heart was beating very fast, her forehead was contracted, and +she could not help keeping her right hand clasped round her arm, +and sometimes shifting from one foot to the other. The +sharpness of the pain soon went off; she was able to attend to +the Lessons, and hoped it would soon be quite well; but as soon +as she began to think about it, it began to ache and throb, and +seemed each moment to be growing hotter. The sermon +especially tried her patience, her cheeks were burning, she felt +sick and hardly able to hold up her head, yet she would not lean +it against the wall, because she had often been told not to do +so. She was exceedingly alarmed to find that her arm had +swelled so much that she could hardly bend it, and it had +received the impression of the gathers of her sleeve; she thought +no sermon had ever been so long, but she sat quite still and +upright, as she could not have done, had she not trained herself +unconsciously by her efforts to leave off the trick of kicking +her heels together. She did not speak till she was in the +churchyard, and then she made Emily look at her arm.</p> +<p>‘My poor child, it is frightful,’ said Emily, +‘what is the matter?’</p> +<p>‘A wasp stung me just before the Psalms,’ said +Phyllis, ‘and it goes on swelling and swelling, and it does +pant!’</p> +<p>‘What is the matter?’ asked Mr. Mohun.</p> +<p>‘Papa, just look,’ said Emily, ‘a wasp stung +this dear child quite early in the service, and she has been +bearing it all this time in silence. Why did you not show +me, Phyl?’</p> +<p>‘Because it was in church,’ said the little +girl.</p> +<p>‘Why, Phyllis, you are a very Spartan,’ said Lord +Rotherwood.</p> +<p>‘Something better than a Spartan,’ said Mr. +Mohun. ‘Does it give you much pain now, my +dear?’</p> +<p>‘Not so bad as in church,’ said Phyllis, +‘only I am very tired, and it is so hot.’</p> +<p>‘We will help you home, then,’ said Mr. +Mohun. As he took her up in his arms, Phyllis laughed, +thanked him, replied to various inquiries from her sisters and +the Westons—laughed again at sundry jokes from her +brothers, then became silent, and was almost asleep, with her +head on her papa’s shoulder, by the time they reached the +hall-door. She thought it very strange to be laid down on +the sofa in the drawing-room, and to find every one attending to +her. Mrs. Weston bathed her forehead with lavender-water, +and Lily cut open the sleeve of her frock; Jane fetched all +manner of remedies, and Emily pitied her. She was rather +frightened: she thought such a fuss would not be made about her +unless she was very ill; she was faint and tired, and was glad +when Mrs. Weston proposed that they should all come away, and +leave her to go to sleep quietly.</p> +<p>Marianne was so absorbed in admiration of Phyllis that she did +not speak one word all the way from church to the New Court, and +stood in silence watching the operations upon her friend, till +Mrs. Weston sent every one away.</p> +<p>Adeline rather envied Phyllis; she would willingly have +endured the pain to be made of so much importance, and said to be +better than a Spartan, which must doubtless be something very +fine indeed!</p> +<p>Phyllis was waked by the bells ringing for the afternoon +service; Mrs. Weston was sitting by her, reading, Claude came to +inquire for her, and to tell her that as she had lost her early +dinner, she was to join the rest of the party at six. To +her great surprise she felt quite well and fresh, and her arm was +much better; Mrs. Weston pinned up her sleeve, and she set off +with her to church, wondering whether Ada would remember to tell +her what she had missed that afternoon at school. Those +whose approbation was valuable, honoured Phyllis for her conduct, +but she did not perceive it, or seek for it; she did not look +like a heroine while running about and playing with Reginald and +the dogs in the evening, but her papa had told her she was a good +child, Claude had given her one of his kindest smiles, and she +was happy. Even when Esther was looking at the mark left by +the sting, and telling her that she was sure Miss Marianne Weston +would have not been half so good, her simple, humble spirit came +to her aid, and she answered, ‘I’ll tell you what, +Esther, Marianne would have behaved much better, for she is +older, and never fidgets, and she would not have been angry like +me, and just going to kill the wasp.’</p> +<h2><a name="page109"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +109</span>CHAPTER X<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">COUSIN ROTHERWOOD</span></h2> +<blockquote><p> ‘We care +not who says<br /> + And intends it dispraise,<br /> +That an Angler to a fool is next neighbour.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">In</span> the evening Lord Rotherwood +renewed his entreaties to Claude to join him on his +travels. He was very much bent on taking him, for his own +pleasure depended not a little on his cousin’s +company. Claude lay on the glassy slope of the terrace, +while Lord Rotherwood paced rapidly up and down before him, +persuading him with all the allurements he could think of, and +looking the picture of impatience. Lily sat by, adding her +weight to all his arguments. But Claude was almost +contemptuous to all the beauties of Germany, and all the promised +sights; he scarcely gave himself the trouble to answer his +tormentors, only vouchsafing sometimes to open his lips to say +that he never meant to go to a country where people spoke a +language that sounded like cracking walnuts; that he hated +steamers; had no fancy for tumble-down castles; that it was so +common to travel; there was more distinction in staying at home; +that the field of Waterloo had been spoilt, and was not worth +seeing; his ideas of glaciers would be ruined by the reality; and +he did not care to see Cologne Cathedral till it was +finished.</p> +<p>On this Lily set up an outcry of horror.</p> +<p>‘One comfort is, Lily,’ said Lord Rotherwood, +‘he does not mean it; he did not say it from the bottom of +his heart. Now, confess you did not, Claude.’</p> +<p>Claude pretended to be asleep.</p> +<p>‘I see plainly enough,’ said the Marquis to Lily, +‘it is as Wat Greenwood says, “Mr. Reynold and the +grapes.”’</p> +<p>‘But it is not,’ said Lily, ‘and that is +what provokes me; papa says he is quite welcome to go if he +likes, and that he thinks it will do him a great deal of good, +but that foolish boy will say nothing but “I will think +about it,” and “thank you”.’</p> +<p>‘Then I give him up as regularly dense.’</p> +<p>‘It is the most delightful plan ever thought of,’ +said Lily, ‘so easily done, and just bringing within his +compass all he ever wished to see.’</p> +<p>‘Oh! his sole ambition is to stretch those long legs of +his on the grass, like a great vegetable marrow,’ said Lord +Rotherwood. ‘It is vegetating like a plant that makes +him so much taller than any rational creature with a little +animal life.’</p> +<p>‘I think Jane has his share of curiosity,’ said +Lily, ‘I am sure I had no idea that anything belonging to +us could be so stupid.’</p> +<p>‘Well,’ said the Marquis, ‘I shall not +go.’</p> +<p>‘No?’ said Lily.</p> +<p>‘No, I shall certainly not go.’</p> +<p>‘Nonsense,’ said Claude, waking from his pretended +sleep, ‘why do you not ask Travers to go with you? He +would like nothing better.’</p> +<p>‘He is a botanist, and would bore me with looking for +weeds. No, I will have you, or stay at home.’</p> +<p>Claude proposed several others as companions, but Lord +Rotherwood treated them all with as much disdain as Claude had +shown for Germany, and ended with ‘Now, Claude, you know my +determination, only tell me why you will not go?’</p> +<p>‘Then I do tell you, Rotherwood, the truth is, that +those boys, Maurice and Reginald, are perfectly unmanageable when +they are left alone with the girls.’</p> +<p>‘Have a tutor for them,’ said the Marquis.</p> +<p>‘Very much obliged to you they would be for the +suggestion,’ said Claude.</p> +<p>‘Oh! but Claude,’ said Lily.</p> +<p>‘I really cannot go. They mind no one but the +Baron and me, and besides that, it would be no small annoyance to +the house; ten tutors could not keep them from indescribable bits +of mischief. I undertook them these holidays, and I mean to +keep them.’</p> +<p>Lilias was just flying off to her father, when Claude caught +hold of her, saying, ‘I desire you will not,’ and she +stood still, looking at her cousin in dismay.</p> +<p>‘It is all right,’ cried the Marquis, joyfully, +‘it is only to set off three weeks later.’</p> +<p>‘Oh! I thought you would not go a week later for the +universe,’ said Claude, smiling.</p> +<p>‘Not for the Universe, but for U—,’ said +Lord Rotherwood.</p> +<p>‘Worthy of a companion true, of the University of +Gottingen,’ said Claude; ‘but, Rotherwood, do you +really mean that it will make no difference to you?’</p> +<p>‘None whatever; I meant to spend three weeks with my +mother at the end of the tour, and I shall spend them now +instead. I only talked of going immediately, because +nothing is done at all that is not done quickly, and I hate +delays, but it is all the same, and now it stands for Tuesday +three weeks. Now we shall see what he says to Cologne, +Lily.’</p> +<p>Claude sprung up, and began talking over arrangements and +possibilities with zest, which showed what his wishes had been +from the first. All was quickly settled, and as soon as his +father had given his cordial approbation to the scheme, it was +amusing to see how animated and active Claude became, and in how +different a style he talked of the once slighted Rhine.</p> +<p>Lord Rotherwood told the boys that their brother was a great +deal too good for them, but they never troubled themselves to ask +in what respect; Lilias took very great delight in telling Emily +of the sacrifice which he had been willing to make, and looked +forward to talking it over with Alethea, but she refrained, as +long as he was at home, as she knew it would greatly displease +him, and she had heard enough about missish confidences.</p> +<p>The Marquis of Rotherwood was certainly the very reverse of +his chosen travelling companion, in the matter of activity. +He made an appointment with the two boys to get up at half-past +four on Monday morning for some fishing, before the sun was too +high—Maurice not caring for the sport, but intending to +make prize of any of the ‘insect youth’ which might +prefer the sunrise for their gambols; and Reginald, in high +delight at the prospect of real fishing, something beyond his own +performances with a stick and a string, in pursuit of minnows in +the ditches. Reginald was making contrivances for tying a +string round his wrist and hanging the end of it from the window, +that Andrew Grey might give it a pull as he went by to his work, +to wake him, when Lord Rotherwood exclaimed, ‘What! cannot +you wake yourself at any time you please?’</p> +<p>‘No,’ said Reginald, ‘I never heard of any +one that could.’</p> +<p>‘Then I advise you to learn the art; in the meantime I +will call you to-morrow.’</p> +<p>Loud voices and laughter in the hall, and the front door +creaking on its hinges at sunrise, convinced the household that +this was no vain boast; before breakfast was quite over the +fishermen were seen approaching the house. Lord Rotherwood +was an extraordinary figure, in an old shooting jacket of his +uncle’s, an enormous pair of fishing-boots of +William’s, and the broad-brimmed straw hat, which always +hung up in the hall, and was not claimed by any particular +owner.</p> +<p>Maurice displayed to Jane the contents of two phials, strange +little creatures, with stranger names, of which he was as proud +as Reginald of his three fine trout. Lord Rotherwood did +not appear till he had made himself look like other people, which +he did in a surprisingly short time. He began estimating +the weight of the fish, and talking at his most rapid rate, till +at last Claude said, ‘Phyllis told us just now that you +were coming back, for that she heard Cousin Rotherwood talking, +and it proved to be Jane’s old turkey cock +gobbling.’</p> +<p>‘No bad compliment,’ said Emily, ‘for +Phyllis was once known to say, on hearing a turkey cock, +“How melodiously that nightingale sings.”’</p> +<p>‘No, no! that was Ada,’ said Lilias.</p> +<p>‘I could answer for that,’ said Claude. +‘Phyllis is too familiar with both parties to mistake their +notes. Besides, she never was known to use such a word as +melodiously.’</p> +<p>‘Do you remember,’ said the Marquis, ‘that +there was some great lawyer who had three kinds of handwriting, +one that the public could read, one that only his clerk could +read, and one that nobody could read?’</p> +<p>‘I suppose I am the clerk,’ said Claude, +‘unless I divide the honour with Florence.’</p> +<p>‘I do not think I am unintelligible anywhere but +here,’ said Lord Rotherwood. ‘There is nothing +sufficiently exciting at home, if Grosvenor Square is to be +called home.’</p> +<p>‘Sometimes you do it without knowing it,’ said +Lily.</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ said Claude, ‘when you do not exactly +know what you are going to say.’</p> +<p>‘Then it is no bad plan,’ said Lord +Rotherwood. ‘People are satisfied, and you +don’t commit yourself.’</p> +<p>‘I’ll tell you what, Cousin Rotherwood,’ +exclaimed Phyllis, ‘your hand is bleeding.’</p> +<p>‘Is it? Thank you, Phyllis, I thought I had washed +it off: now do find me some sealing-wax—India-rub +her—sticking-plaster, I mean.’</p> +<p>‘Oh! Rotherwood,’ said Emily, ‘what a +bad cut, how did it happen?’</p> +<p>‘Only, I am the victim to Maurice’s first essay in +fishing.’</p> +<p>‘Just fancy what an awkward fellow Maurice is,’ +said Reginald, ‘he had but one throw, and he managed to +stick the hook into Rotherwood’s hand.’</p> +<p>‘One of those barbed hooks? Oh! Rotherwood, how +horrid!’ said Emily.</p> +<p>‘And he cut it out with his knife, and caught that great +trout with it directly,’ said Reginald.</p> +<p>‘And neither half drowned Maurice, nor sent him home +again?’ asked Lily.</p> +<p>‘I contented myself with taking away his weapon,’ +said the Marquis; ‘and he wished for nothing better than to +poke about in the gutters for insects; it was only Redgie that +teased him into the nobler sport.’</p> +<p>Emily was inclined to make a serious matter of the accident, +but her cousin said ten words while she said one, and by the time +her first sentence was uttered, she found him talking about his +ride to Devereux Castle.</p> +<p>He and Claude set out as soon as breakfast was over, and came +back about three o’clock; Claude was tired with the heat, +and betook himself to the sofa, where he fell asleep, under +pretence of reading, but the indefatigable Marquis was ready and +willing to set out with Reginald and Wat Greenwood to shoot +rabbits.</p> +<p>Dinner-time came, and Emily sat at the drawing-room window +with Claude and Lilias, lamenting her cousin’s bad +habits. ‘Nothing will ever make him punctual,’ +said she.</p> +<p>‘I am in duty bound to let you say nothing against +him,’ said Claude.</p> +<p>‘It is very good-natured in him to wait for you,’ +said Lily, ‘but it would be horribly selfish to leave you +behind.’</p> +<p>‘Delay is his great horror,’ said Claude, +‘and the wonder of his character is, that he is not +selfish. No one had ever better training for it.’</p> +<p>‘He does like his own way very much,’ said +Lilias.</p> +<p>‘Who does not?’ said Claude.</p> +<p>‘Nothing shows his sense so much,’ said Emily, +‘as his great attachment to papa—the only person who +ever controlled him.’</p> +<p>‘And to Claude—his opposite in everything,’ +said Lilias.</p> +<p>‘I think he will tire you to death in Germany,’ +said Emily.</p> +<p>‘Never fear,’ said Claude, ‘my <i>vis +inertiæ</i> is enough to counterbalance any amount of +restlessness.’</p> +<p>‘Here they come,’ said Lily; ‘how Wat +Greenwood is grinning at Rotherwood’s jokes!’</p> +<p>‘A happy day for Wat,’ said Emily. ‘He +will be quite dejected if William is not at home next shooting +season. He thinks you a degenerate Mohun, +Claude.’</p> +<p>‘He must comfort himself with Redgie,’ said +Claude.</p> +<p>‘Rotherwood is only eager about shooting in common with +everything else,’ said Lily, ‘but Redgie, I fear, +will care for nothing else.’</p> +<p>Lord Rotherwood came in, accounting for being late, as, in +passing through a harvest field, he could not help attempting to +reap. The Beechcroft farming operations had been his +especial amusement from very early days, and his plans were +numerous for farming on a grand scale as soon as he should be of +age. His talk during dinner was of turnips and wheat, till +at length Mr. Mohun asked him what he thought of the appearance +of the castle. He said it was very forlorn; the rooms +looked so dreary and deserted that he could not bear to be in +them, and had been out of doors almost all the time. +Indeed, he was afraid he had disappointed the housekeeper by not +complimenting her as she deserved, for the freezing dismal order +in which she kept everything. ‘And really,’ +said he, ‘I must go again to-morrow and make up for it, and +Emily, you must come with me and try to devise something to make +the unhappy place less like the abode of the Prince of the Black +Islands.’</p> +<p>Emily willingly promised to go, and she went on talking to +him, and telling him whom he was to meet on the next day, when an +unusual silence making her look up, she beheld him more than half +asleep.</p> +<p>Reginald fidgeted and sighed, and Maurice grew graver and +graver as they thought of the wasps. Maurice wanted to take +a nest entire, and began explaining his plan to Claude.</p> +<p>‘You see, Claude, burning some straw and then digging, +spoils the combs, as Wat does it; now I have got some puff-balls +and sulphur to put into the hole, and set fire to them with a +lucifer match, so as to stifle the wasps, and then dig them out +quietly to-morrow morning.’</p> +<p>‘It is all of no use, if that Rotherwood will do nothing +but sleep,’ said Reginald, in a disconsolate tone.</p> +<p>‘You should not have made him get up at four,’ +said Emily.</p> +<p>‘Who! I?’ exclaimed the Marquis. +‘I never was wider awake. What are you waiting for, +Reginald? I thought you were going to take wasps’ +nests.’</p> +<p>‘You are much too tired, I am sure,’ said +Emily.</p> +<p>‘Tired! not in the least, I have done nothing to-day to +tire me,’ said Lord Rotherwood, walking up and down the +room to keep himself awake.</p> +<p>The whole party went out, and found Wat Greenwood waiting for +them with a bundle of straw, a spade, and a little +gunpowder. Maurice carried a basket containing all his +preparations, on which Wat looked with supreme contempt, telling +him that his puffs were too green to make a smeech. +Maurice, not condescending to argue the point, ran on to a nest +which Reginald had marked on one of the green banks of the +ancient moat.</p> +<p>‘Take care that the wasps are all come in; mind what you +are about, Maurice,’ called his father.</p> +<p>‘Master Maurice,’ shouted Wat, ‘you had +better take a green bough.’</p> +<p>‘Never mind, Wat,’ said Lord Rotherwood, ‘he +would not stay long enough to use it if he had it.’</p> +<p>Reginald ran after Maurice, who had just reached the nest.</p> +<p>‘There is one coming in, the evening is so warm they are +not quiet yet.’</p> +<p>‘I’ll quiet them,’ said Maurice, kneeling +down, and putting his first puff-ball into the hole.</p> +<p>Reginald stood by with a sly smile, as he pulled a branch off +a neighbouring filbert-tree. The next moment Maurice gave a +sudden yell, ‘The wasps! the wasps!’ and jumping up, +and tripping at his first step, rolled down the bank, and landed +safely at Lord Rotherwood’s feet. The shouts of +laughter were loud, but he regarded them not, and as soon as he +recovered his feet, rushed past his sisters, and never stopped +till he reached the house. Redgie stood alone, in the midst +of a cloud of wasps, beating them off with a bough, roaring with +laughter, and calling Wat to bring the straw to burn them.</p> +<p>‘No, no, Redgie, come away, leave them for Maurice to +try again,’ said his father.</p> +<p>‘The brute, he stung me,’ cried Reginald, knocking +down a wasp or two as he came down. ‘What is +this?’ added he, as he stumbled over something at the +bottom of the slope. ‘Oh! Maurice’s +basket; look here—laudanum—did he mean to poison the +wasps?’</p> +<p>‘No,’ said Jane, ‘to cure their +stings.’</p> +<p>‘The poor unhappy quiz!’ cried Reginald.</p> +<p>While the others were busy over a nest, Mr. Mohun asked Emily +how the boy got at the medicine chest. Emily looked +confused, and said she supposed Jane had given him a bottle.</p> +<p>‘Jane is too young to be trusted there,’ said Mr. +Mohun, ‘I thought you knew better; do not let the key be +out of your possession again.’</p> +<p>After a few more nests had been taken in the usual manner, +they returned to the house. Maurice was lying on the sofa +reading the <i>Penny Magazine</i>, from which he raised his eyes +no more that evening, in spite of all the jokes which flew about +respecting wounded knights, courage, and the balsam of +Fierabras. He called Jane to teach her how flies were made, +and as soon as tea was over he went to bed. Reginald, after +many yawns, prepared to follow his example, and as he was wishing +his sisters good-night, Emily said, ‘Now, Redgie, do not go +out at such a preposterous hour to-morrow morning.’</p> +<p>‘What is that to you?’ was Reginald’s +courteous inquiry.</p> +<p>‘I do not wish to see every one fast asleep to-morrow +evening,’ said Emily, and she looked at her cousin, whose +head was far back over his chair.</p> +<p>‘He is a Trojan,’ said Reginald.</p> +<p>‘Is a Trojan better than a Spartan?’ asked Ada, +meditatively.</p> +<p>‘Helen thought so,’ said Claude.</p> +<p>‘“When Greek meets Greek, then comes the tug of +war,”’ muttered the Marquis.</p> +<p>‘You are all talking Greek,’ said Jane.</p> +<p>‘Arabic,’ said Claude.</p> +<p>As far as it could be comprehended, Lord Rotherwood’s +answer related to Maurice and the wasps.</p> +<p>‘There,’ said Emily, ‘what is to be done if +he is in that condition to-morrow?’</p> +<p>‘I am not asleep; what makes you think I am?’</p> +<p>‘I wish you would sit in that great chair,’ said +Emily, ‘I am afraid you will break your neck; you look so +uncomfortable, I cannot bear to see you.’</p> +<p>‘I never was more comfortable in my life,’ said +Lord Rotherwood, asleep while finishing the sentence; but this +time, happily with his elbows on the table, and his head in a +safer position.</p> +<p>The next day was spent rather more rationally. Lord +Rotherwood met with a book of Irish Tales, with which he became +so engrossed that he did not like to leave it when Emily and +Claude were ready to ride to Devereux Castle with him. When +there he was equally eager and vehement about each matter that +came under consideration, and so many presented themselves, that +Emily began to be in agonies lest she should not be at home in +time to dress and receive her guests. They did, however, +reach the house before Lilias, who had been walking with Miss +Weston, came in, and when she went upstairs, she found Emily full +of complaints at the inconvenience of having no Rachel to assist +her in dressing, and to see that everything was in order, and +that Phyllis was fit to appear when she came down in the evening; +but, by the assistance of Lily and Jane, she got over her +troubles, and when she went into the drawing-room, she was much +relieved to find her two gentlemen quite safe and dressed. +She had been in great fear of Lord Rotherwood’s straying +away to join in some of Reginald’s sports, and was grateful +to the Irish book for keeping him out of mischief.</p> +<p>Emily was in her glory; it was the first large dinner-party +since Eleanor had gone, and though she pitied herself for having +the trouble of entertaining the people, she really enjoyed the +feeling that she now appeared as the mistress of New Court, with +her cousin, the Marquis, by her side, to show how highly she was +connected. And everything went off just as could be +wished. Lord Rotherwood talked intelligibly and sensibly, +and Mr. Mohun’s neighbour at dinner had a voice which he +could hear. Lily’s pleasure was not less than her +sister’s, though of a different kind. She delighted +in thinking how well Emily did the honours, in watching the +varied expression of Lord Rotherwood’s animated +countenance, in imagining Claude’s forehead to be finer +than that of any one else, and in thinking how people must admire +Reginald’s tall, active figure, and very handsome +face. She was asked to play, and did tolerably well, but +was too shy to sing, nor, indeed, was Reginald encouraging. +‘What is the use of your singing, Lily? If it was +like Miss Weston’s, now—’</p> +<p>Reginald had taken a great fancy to Miss Weston; he stood by +her all the evening, and afterwards let her talk to him, and then +began to chatter himself, at last becoming so confidential as to +impart to her the grand object of his ambition, which was to be +taller than Claude!</p> +<p>The next morning Lord Rotherwood left Beechcroft, somewhat to +Emily’s relief; for though she was very proud of him, and +much enjoyed the dignity of being seen to talk familiarly with +him, yet, when no strangers were present, and he became no more +than an ordinary cousin, she was worried by his incessant +activity, and desire to see, know, and do everything as fast and +as thoroughly as possible. She could not see the use of +such vehemence; she liked to take things in a moderate way, and +as Claude said, much preferred the passive to the active +voice. Claude, on the contrary, was ashamed of his +constitutional indolence, looked on it as a temptation, and +struggled against it, almost envying his cousin his unabated +eagerness and untiring energy, and liking to be with him, because +no one else so effectually roused him from his habitual +languor. His indolence was, however, so much the effect of +ill health, that exertion was sometimes scarcely in his power, +especially in hot weather, and by the time his brothers’ +studies were finished each day, he was unfit for anything but to +lie on the grass under the plane-tree.</p> +<p>The days glided on, and the holidays came to an end; Maurice +spent them in adding to his collection of insects, which, with +Jane’s assistance, he arranged very neatly; and Reginald +and Phyllis performed several exploits, more agreeable to +themselves than satisfactory to the more rational part of the New +Court community. At the same time, Reginald’s +devotion to Miss Weston increased; he never moved from her side +when she sang, did not fail to be of the party when she walked +with his sisters, offered her one of his own puppies, named his +little ship ‘Alethea,’ and was even tolerably civil +to Marianne.</p> +<p>At length the day of departure came; the boys returned to +school, Claude joined Lord Rotherwood, and the New Court was +again in a state of tranquillity.</p> +<h2><a name="page123"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +123</span>CHAPTER XI<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">DANCING</span></h2> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">‘Prescribe us not +our duties.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>‘<span class="smcap">Well</span>, Phyllis,’ said +her father, as he passed through the hall to mount his horse, +‘how do you like the prospect of Monsieur le Roi’s +instructions?’</p> +<p>‘Not at all, papa,’ answered Phyllis, running out +to the hall door to pat the horse, and give it a piece of +bread.</p> +<p>‘Take care you turn out your toes,’ said Mr. +Mohun. ‘You must learn to dance like a dragon before +Cousin Rotherwood’s birthday next year.’</p> +<p>‘Papa, how do dragons dance?’</p> +<p>‘That is a question I must decide at my leisure,’ +said Mr. Mohun, mounting. ‘Stand out of the way, +Phyl, or you will feel how horses dance.’</p> +<p>Away he rode, while Phyllis turned with unwilling steps to the +nursery, to be dressed for her first dancing lesson; Marianne +Weston was to learn with her, and this was some consolation, but +Phyllis could not share in the satisfaction Adeline felt in the +arrival of Monsieur le Roi. Jane was also a pupil, but +Lily, whose recollections of her own dancing days were not +agreeable, absented herself entirely from the dancing-room, even +though Alethea Weston had come with her sister.</p> +<p>Poor Phyllis danced as awkwardly as was expected, but Adeline +seemed likely to be a pupil in whom a master might rejoice; +Marianne was very attentive and not ungraceful, but Alethea soon +saw reason to regret the arrangement that had been made, for she +perceived that Jane considered the master a fair subject for +derision, and her ‘nods and becks, and wreathed +smiles,’ called up corresponding looks in Marianne’s +face.</p> +<p>‘Oh Brownie, you are a naughty thing!’ said Emily, +as soon as M. le Roi had departed.</p> +<p>‘He really was irresistible!’ said Jane.</p> +<p>‘I suppose ridicule is one of the disagreeables to which +a dancing-master makes up his mind,’ said Alethea.</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ said Jane, ‘one can have no +compunction in quizzing that species.’</p> +<p>‘I do not think I can quite say that, Jane,’ said +Miss Weston.</p> +<p>‘This man especially lays himself open to +ridicule,’ said Jane; ‘do you know, Alethea, that he +is an Englishman, and his name is King, only he calls himself Le +Roi, and speaks broken English!’</p> +<p>Though Alethea joined in the general laugh, she did not feel +quite satisfied; she feared that if not checked in time, Jane +would proceed to actual impertinence, and that Marianne would be +tempted to follow her example, but she did not like to interfere, +and only advised Marianne to be on her guard, hoping that Emily +would also speak seriously to her sister.</p> +<p>On the next occasion, however, Jane ventured still farther; +her grimaces were almost irresistible, and she had a most comical +manner of imitating the master’s attitudes when his eye was +not upon her, and putting on a demure countenance when he turned +towards her, which sorely tried Marianne.</p> +<p>‘What shall I do, Alethea?’ said the little girl, +as the sisters walked home together; ‘I do not know how to +help laughing, if Jane will be so very funny.’</p> +<p>‘I am afraid we must ask mamma to let us give up the +dancing,’ replied Alethea; ‘the temptation is almost +too strong, and I do not think she would wish to expose you to +it.’</p> +<p>‘But, Alethea, why do not you speak to Jane?’ +asked Marianne; ‘no one seems to tell her it is wrong; Miss +Mohun was almost laughing.’</p> +<p>‘I do not think Jane would consider that I ought to find +fault with her,’ said Alethea.</p> +<p>‘But you would not scold her,’ urged Marianne; +‘only put her in mind that it is not right, not kind; that +Monsieur le Roi is in authority over her for the time.’</p> +<p>‘I will speak to mamma,’ said Alethea, +‘perhaps it will be better next time.’</p> +<p>And it was better, for Mr. Mohun happening to be at home, was +dragged into the dancing-room by Emily and Ada. Once, when +she thought he was looking another way, Jane tried to raise a +smile, but a stern ‘Jane, what are you thinking of?’ +recalled her to order, and when the lesson was over her father +spoke gravely to her, telling her that he thought few things more +disgusting in a young lady than impertinence towards her +teachers; and then added, ‘Miss Weston, I hope you keep +strict watch over these giddy young things.’</p> +<p>Awed by her father, Jane behaved tolerably well at that time +and the next, and Miss Weston hoped her interference would not be +needed, but as if to make up for this restraint, her conduct a +fortnight after was quite beyond bearing. She used every +means to make Marianne laugh, and at last went so far as to +pretend to think that M. le Roi had not understood what she said +in English, and to translate it into French. Poor Marianne +looked imploringly at her sister, and Alethea hoped that Emily +would interpose, but Emily was turning away her head to conceal a +laugh, and Miss Weston was obliged to give Jane a very grave +look, which she perfectly understood, though she pretended not to +see it. When the exercise was over Miss Weston made her a +sign to approach, and said, ‘Jane, do you think your papa +would have liked—’</p> +<p>‘What do you mean?’ said Jane, ‘I have not +been laughing.’</p> +<p>‘You know what I mean,’ said Alethea, ‘and +pray do not be displeased if I ask you not to make it difficult +for Marianne to behave properly.’</p> +<p>Jane drew up her head and went back to her place. She +played no more tricks that day, but as soon as the guests were +gone, began telling Lilias how Miss Weston had been meddling and +scolding her.</p> +<p>‘And well you must have deserved it,’ said +Lily.</p> +<p>‘I do not say that Jenny was right,’ said Emily, +‘but I think Miss Weston might allow me to correct my own +sister in my own house.’</p> +<p>‘You correct Jane!’ cried Lily, and Jane +laughed.</p> +<p>‘I only mean,’ said Emily, ‘that it was not +very polite, and papa says the closest friendship is no reason +for dispensing with the rules of politeness.’</p> +<p>‘Certainly not,’ said Lily, ‘the rules of +politeness are rules of love, and it was in love that Alethea +spoke; she sees how sadly we are left to ourselves, and is kind +enough to speak a word in season.’</p> +<p>‘Perhaps,’ said Jane, ‘since it was in love +that she spoke, you would like to have her for our reprover for +ever, and I can assure you more unlikely things have +happened. I have heard it from one who can +judge.’</p> +<p>‘Let me hear no more of this,’ said Emily, +‘it is preposterous and ridiculous, and very disrespectful +to papa.’</p> +<p>Jane for once, rather shocked at her own words, went back to +what had been said just before.</p> +<p>‘Then, perhaps, you would like to have Eleanor back +again?’</p> +<p>‘I am sure you want some one to put you in mind of your +duty,’ said Lily.</p> +<p>‘Eleanor and duty!’ cried Emily; ‘you who +thought so much of the power of love!’</p> +<p>‘Of Emily and love, she would say, if it sounded +well,’ said Jane.</p> +<p>‘I cannot see what true love you or Jane are showing +now,’ said Lily, ‘it is no kindness to encourage her +pertness, or to throw away a friendly reproof because it offends +your pride.’</p> +<p>‘Nobody reproved me,’ replied Emily; +‘besides, I know love will prevail; for my sake Jane will +not expose herself and me to a stranger’s +interference.’</p> +<p>‘If you depend upon that, I wish you joy,’ said +Lilias, as she left the room.</p> +<p>‘What a weathercock Lily is!’ cried Jane, +‘she has fallen in love with Alethea Weston, and echoes all +she says.’</p> +<p>‘Not considering her own inconsistency,’ said +Emily.</p> +<p>‘That Alethea Weston,’ exclaimed Jane, in an angry +tone;—but Emily, beginning to recover some sense of +propriety, said, ‘Jenny, you know you were very ill-bred, +and you made it difficult for the little ones to behave +well.’</p> +<p>‘Not our own little ones,’ said Jane; +‘honest Phyl did not understand the joke, and Ada was +thinking of her attitudes; one comfort is, that I shall be +confirmed in three weeks’ time, and then people cannot +treat me as a mere child—little as I am.’</p> +<p>‘Oh! Jane,’ said Emily, ‘I do not like +to hear you talk of confirmation in that light way.’</p> +<p>‘No, no,’ said Jane, ‘I do not mean +it—of course I do not mean it—don’t look +shocked—it was only by the bye—and another by the +bye, Emily, you know I must have a cap and white ribbons, and I +am afraid I must make it myself.’</p> +<p>‘Ay, that is the worst of having Esther,’ said +Emily, ‘she and Hannah have no notion of anything but the +plainest work; I am sure if I had thought of all the trouble of +that kind which having a young girl would entail, I would never +have consented to Esther’s coming.’</p> +<p>‘That was entirely Lily’s scheme,’ said +Jane.</p> +<p>‘Yes; it is impossible to resist Lily, she is so eager +and anxious, and it would have vexed her very much if I had +opposed her, and that I cannot bear; besides, Esther is a very +nice girl, and will learn.’</p> +<p>‘There is Robert talking to papa on the green,’ +said Jane; ‘what a deep conference; what can it be +about?’</p> +<p>If Jane had heard that conversation she might have perceived +that she could not wilfully offend, even in what she thought a +trifling matter, without making it evident, even to others, that +there was something very wrong about her. At that moment +the Rector was saying to his uncle, ‘I am in doubt about +Jane, I cannot but fear she is not in a satisfactory state for +confirmation, and I wished to ask you what you think?’</p> +<p>‘Act just as you would with any of the village +girls,’ said Mr. Mohun.</p> +<p>‘I should be very sorry to do otherwise,’ said Mr. +Devereux; ‘but I thought you might like, since every one +knows that she is a candidate, that she should not be at home at +the time of the confirmation, if it is necessary to refuse +her.’</p> +<p>‘No,’ said Mr. Mohun, ‘I should not wish to +shield her from the disgrace. It may be useful to her, and +besides, it will establish your character for impartiality. +I have not been satisfied with all I saw of little Jane for some +time past, and I am afraid that much passes amongst my poor girls +which never comes to my knowledge. Her pertness especially +is probably restrained in my presence.’</p> +<p>‘It is not so much the pertness that I complain +of,’ said Mr. Devereux, ‘for that might be merely +exuberance of spirits, but there is a sort of habitual +irreverence, which makes one dread to bring her nearer to sacred +tings.’</p> +<p>‘I know what you mean,’ said Mr. Mohun, ‘and +I think the pertness is a branch of it, more noticed because more +inconvenient to others.’</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ said Mr. Devereux, ‘I think the fault +I speak of is most evident; when there is occasion to reprove +her, I am always baffled by a kind of levity which makes every +warning glance aside.’</p> +<p>‘Then I should decidedly say refuse her,’ said Mr. +Mohun. ‘It would be a warning that she could not +disregard, and the best chance of improving her.’</p> +<p>‘Yet,’ said Mr. Devereux, ‘if she is eager +for confirmation, and regards it in its proper light, it is hard +to say whether it is right to deny it to her; it may give her the +depth and earnestness which she needs.’</p> +<p>‘Poor child,’ said Mr. Mohun, ‘she has great +disadvantages; I am quite sure our present system is not fit for +her. Things shall be placed on a different footing, and in +another year or two I hope she may be fitter for +confirmation. However, before you finally decide, I should +wish to have some conversation with her, and speak to you +again.</p> +<p>‘That is just what I wish,’ said Mr. Devereux.</p> +<h2><a name="page131"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +131</span>CHAPTER XII<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE FEVER</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘Jane borrowed maxims from a doubting +school,<br /> +And took for truth the test of ridicule.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> question of Jane’s +confirmation was decided in an unexpected manner; for the day +after Mr. Mohun’s conversation with his nephew she was +attacked by a headache and sore throat, spent a feverish night, +and in the morning was so unwell that a medical man was sent for +from Raynham. On his arrival he pronounced that she was +suffering from scarlet fever, and Emily began to feel the +approach of the same complaint.</p> +<p>Phyllis and Adeline were shut up in the drawing-room, and a +system of quarantine established, which was happily brought to a +conclusion by a note from Mrs. Weston, who kindly begged that +they might be sent to her at Broomhill, and Mr. Mohun gladly +availing himself of the offer, the little girls set off, so well +pleased to make a visit alone, as almost to forget the occasion +of it. Mrs. Weston had extended her invitation to Lilias, +but she begged to be allowed to remain with her sisters, and Mr. +Mohun thought that she had been already so much exposed to the +infection that it was useless for her to take any +precautions.</p> +<p>She was therefore declared head nurse; and it was well that +she had an energetic spirit, and so sweet a temper, that she was +ready to sympathise with all Emily’s petulant complaints, +and even to find fault with herself for not being in two places +at once. Two of the maids were ill, and the whole care of +Emily and Jane devolved upon her, with only the assistance of +Esther.</p> +<p>Emily was not very seriously ill, but Jane’s fever was +very high, and Lily thought that her father was more anxious than +he chose to appear. Of Jane’s own thoughts little +could be guessed; she was often delirious, and at all times +speaking was so painful that she said as little as possible.</p> +<p>Lily’s troubles seemed at their height one Sunday +afternoon, while her father was at church. She had been +reading the Psalms and Lessons to Emily, and she then rose to +return to Jane.</p> +<p>‘Do not go,’ entreated Emily.</p> +<p>‘I will send Esther.’</p> +<p>‘Esther is of no use.’</p> +<p>‘And therefore I do not like to leave her so long alone +with Jane. Pray spare me a little smile.’</p> +<p>‘Then come back soon.’</p> +<p>Lily was glad to escape with no more objections. She +found Jane complaining of thirst, but to swallow gave her great +pain, and she required so much attendance for some little time, +that Emily’s bell was twice rung before Esther could be +spared to go to her.</p> +<p>She soon came back, saying, ‘Miss Mohun wants you +directly, Miss Lilias.’</p> +<p>‘Tell her I will come presently,’ said Lily, who +had one hand pressed on Jane’s burning temples, while the +other was sprinkling her with ether.</p> +<p>‘Stay,’ said Jane, faintly, and Esther left the +room.</p> +<p>Jane drew her breath with so much difficulty that a dreadful +terror seized upon Lily, lest she should be suffocated. She +raised her head, and supported her till Esther could bring more +pillows. Esther brought a message from Emily to hasten her +return; but Jane could not be left, and the grateful look she +gave her as she arranged the pillows repaid her for all her +toils. After a little time Jane became more comfortable, +and said in a whisper, ‘Dear Lily, I wish I was not so +troublesome.’</p> +<p>Back came Esther at this moment, saying, ‘Miss Emily +says she is worse, and wants you directly, Miss +Lilias.’</p> +<p>Lily hurried away to Emily’s room, and found what might +well have tried her temper. Emily was flushed indeed, and +feverish, but her breathing was smooth and even, and her hand and +pulse cool and slow, compared with the parched burning hands, and +throbbings, too quick to count, which Lily had just been +watching.</p> +<p>‘Well, my dear Emily, I am sorry you do not feel better; +what can I do for you?’</p> +<p>‘How can I be better while I am left so long, and Esther +not coming when I ring? What would happen if I were to +faint away?’</p> +<p>‘Indeed, I am very sorry,’ said Lily; ‘but +when you rang, poor Jenny could spare neither of us.’</p> +<p>‘How is poor Jenny?’ said Emily.</p> +<p>‘Her throat is very bad, but she is quite sensible now, +and wishes to have me there. What did you want, +Emily?’</p> +<p>‘Oh! I wish you would draw the curtain, the light +hurts me; that will do—no—now it is worse, pray put +it as it was before. Oh! Lily, if you knew how ill I +am you would not leave me.’</p> +<p>‘Can I do anything for you—will you have some +coffee?’</p> +<p>‘Oh! no, it has a bad taste, I am sure it is carelessly +made.’</p> +<p>‘Shall I make you some fresh, with the spirit +lamp?’</p> +<p>‘No, I am tired of it. I wonder if I might have +some tamarinds?’</p> +<p>‘I will ask as soon as papa comes from +church.’</p> +<p>‘Is he gone to church? how could he go when we are all +so ill?’</p> +<p>‘Perhaps he was doing us more good at church than he +could at home. You will be glad to hear, Emily, that he has +sent for Rachel to come and help us.’</p> +<p>‘Oh! has he? but she lives so far off, and gets her +letters so seldom, I don’t reckon at all upon her +coming. If she could come directly it would be a +comfort.’</p> +<p>‘It would, indeed,’ said Lily; ‘she would +know what to do for Jane.’</p> +<p>‘Lily, where is the ether? You are always taking +it away.’</p> +<p>‘In Jane’s room; I will fetch it.’</p> +<p>‘No, no, if you once get into Jane’s room I shall +never see you back again.’</p> +<p>Now Emily knew that Jane was very ill, and Lily’s pale +cheeks, heavy eyes, and failing voice, might have reminded her +that two sick persons were a heavy charge upon a girl of +seventeen, without the addition of her caprices and +fretfulness. And how was it that the kind-hearted, +affectionate Emily never thought of all this? It was +because she had been giving way to selfishness for nineteen +years; and now the contemplation of her own sufferings was quite +enough to hide from her that others had much to bear; and +illness, instead of teaching her patience and consideration, only +made her more exacting and querulous.</p> +<p>To Lily’s unspeakable relief, Miss Weston accompanied +Mr. Mohun from church, and offered to share her attendance. +No one knew what it cost Alethea to come into the midst of a +scene which constantly reminded her of the sisters she had lost, +but she did not shrink from it, and was glad that her parents saw +no objection to her offering to share Lily’s toils. +Her experience was most valuable, and relieved Lilias of the fear +that was continually haunting her, lest her ignorance might lead +to some fatal mistake. The next day brought Rachel, and +both patients began to mend. Jane’s recovery was +quicker than Emily’s, for her constitution was not so +languid, and having no pleasure in the importance of being an +invalid, she was willing to exert herself, and make the best of +everything, while Emily did not much like to be told that she was +better, and thought it cruel to hint that exertion would benefit +her. Both were convalescent before the fever attacked Lily, +who was severely ill, but not alarmingly so, and her gentleness +and patience made Alethea delight in having the care of +her. Lily was full of gratitude to her kind friend, and +felt quite happy when Alethea chanced one day to call her by the +name of Emma; she almost hoped she was taking the place of that +sister, and the thought cheered her through many languid hours, +and gave double value to all Alethea’s kindness. She +did not feel disposed to repine at an illness which brought out +such affection from her friend, and still more from her father, +who, when he came to see her, would say things which gave her a +thrill of pleasure whenever she thought of them.</p> +<p>It happened one day that Jane, having finished her book, +looked round for some other occupation; she knew that Miss Weston +had walked to Broomhill; Rachael was with Lilias, and there was +no amusement at hand. At last she recollected that her papa +had said in the morning, that he hoped to see her and Emily in +the schoolroom in the course of the day, and hoping to meet her +sister, she resolved to try and get there. The room had +been Mr. Mohun’s sitting-room since the beginning of their +illness, and it looked so very comfortable that she was glad she +had come, though she was so tired she wondered how she should get +back again. Emily was not there, so she lay down on the +sofa and took up a little book from the table. The title +was <i>Susan Harvey</i>, <i>or Confirmation</i>, and she read it +with more interest as she remembered with a pang that this was +the day of the confirmation, to which she had been invited; she +soon found herself shedding tears over the book, she who had +never yet been known to cry at any story, however +affecting. She had not finished when Mr. Devereux came in +to look for Mr. Mohun, and finding her there, was going away as +soon as he had congratulated her on having left her room, but she +begged him to stay, and began asking questions about the +confirmation.</p> +<p>‘Were there many people?’</p> +<p>‘Three hundred.’</p> +<p>‘Did the Stoney Bridge people make a +disturbance?’</p> +<p>‘No.’</p> +<p>‘How many of our people?’</p> +<p>‘Twenty-seven.’</p> +<p>‘Did all the girls wear caps?’</p> +<p>‘Most of them.’</p> +<p>Jane was rather surprised at the shortness of her +cousin’s answers, but she went on, as he stood before the +fire, apparently in deep thought.</p> +<p>‘Was Miss Burnet confirmed? She is the dullest +girl I ever knew, and she is older than I am. Was she +confused?’</p> +<p>‘She was.’</p> +<p>‘Did you give Mary Wright a ticket?’</p> +<p>‘No.’</p> +<p>‘Then, of course, you did not give one to Ned +Long. I thought you would never succeed in making him +remember which is the ninth commandment.’</p> +<p>‘I did not refuse him.’</p> +<p>‘Indeed! did he improve in a portentous +manner?’</p> +<p>‘Not particularly.’</p> +<p>‘Well, you must have been more merciful than I +expected.’</p> +<p>‘Indeed!’</p> +<p>‘Robert, you must have lost the use of your tongue, for +want of us to talk to. I shall be affronted if you go into +a brown study the first day of seeing me.’</p> +<p>He smiled in a constrained manner, and after a few minutes +said, ‘I have been considering whether this is a fit time +to tell you what will give you pain. You must tell me if +you can bear it.’</p> +<p>‘About Lily, or the little ones?’</p> +<p>‘No, no! only about yourself. Your father wished +me to speak to you, but I would not have done so on this first +meeting, but what you have just been saying makes me think this +is the best occasion.’</p> +<p>‘Let me know; I do not like suspense,’ said Jane, +sharply.</p> +<p>‘I think it right to tell you, Jane, that neither your +father nor I thought it would be desirable for you to be +confirmed at this time.’</p> +<p>‘Do you really mean it?’ said Jane.</p> +<p>‘Look back on the past year, and say if you sincerely +think you are fit for confirmation.’</p> +<p>‘As to that,’ said Jane, ‘the best people +are always saying that they are not fit for these +things.’</p> +<p>‘None can call themselves worthy of them; but I think +the conscience of some would bear them witness that they had +profited so far by their present means of grace as to give +grounds for hoping that they would derive benefit from further +assistance.’</p> +<p>‘Well, I suppose I must be very bad, since you see +it,’ said Jane, in a manner rather more subdued; ‘but +I did not think myself worse than other people.’</p> +<p>‘Is a Christian called, only to be no worse than +others?’</p> +<p>‘Oh no! I see, I mean—pray tell me my great +fault. Pertness, I suppose—love of gossip?’</p> +<p>‘There must be a deeper root of evil, of which these are +but the visible effects, Jane.’</p> +<p>‘What do you mean, Robert?’ said Jane, now seeming +really impressed.</p> +<p>‘I think, Jane, that the greatest and most dangerous +fault of your character is want of reverence. I think it is +want of reverence which makes you press forward to that for which +you confess yourself unfit; it is want of reverence for holiness +which makes you not care to attain it; want of reverence for the +Holy Word that makes you treat it as a mere lesson; and in +smaller matters your pertness is want of reverence for your +superiors; you would not be ready to believe and to say the worst +of others, if you reverenced what good there may be in +them. Take care that your want of reverence is not in +reality want of faith.’</p> +<p>Jane’s spirits were weak and subdued. It was a +great shock to her to hear that she was not thought worthy of +confirmation; her faults had never been called by so hard a name; +she was in part humbled, and in part grieved, and what she +thought harshness in her cousin; she turned away her face, and +did not speak. He continued, ‘Jane, you must not +think me unkind, your father desired me to talk to you, and, +indeed, the time of recovery from sickness is too precious to be +trifled away.’</p> +<p>Jane wept bitterly. Presently he said, ‘It grieves +me to have been obliged to speak harshly to you, you must forgive +me if I have talked too much to you, Jane.’</p> +<p>Jane tried to speak, but sobs prevented her, and she gave way +to a violent fit of crying. Her cousin feared he had been +unwise in saying so much, and had weakened the effect of his own +words. He would have been glad to see tears of repentance, +but he was afraid that she was weeping over fancied unkindness, +and that he might have done what might be hurtful to her in her +weak state. He said a few kind words, and tried to console +her, but this change of tone rather added to her distress, and +she became hysterical. He was much vexed and alarmed, and, +ringing the bell, hastened to call assistance. He found +Esther, and sent her to Jane, and on returning to the schoolroom +with some water, he found her lying exhausted on the sofa; he +therefore went in search of his uncle, who was overlooking some +farming work, and many were the apologies made, and many the +assurances he received, that it would be better for her in the +end, as the impression would be more lasting.</p> +<p>Jane was scarcely conscious of her cousin’s departure, +or of Esther’s arrival, but after drinking some water, and +lying still for a few moments, she exclaimed, ‘Oh, Robert! +oh, Esther! the confirmation!’ and gasped and sobbed +again. Esther thought she had guessed the cause of her +tears, and tried to comfort her.</p> +<p>‘Ah! Miss Jane, there will be another confirmation some +day; it was a sad thing you were too ill, to be sure, +but—’</p> +<p>‘Oh! if I had—if he would not say—if he had +thought me fit.’</p> +<p>Esther was amazed, and asked if she should call Miss Weston, +who was now with Lilias.</p> +<p>‘No, no!’ cried Jane, nearly relapsing into +hysterics. ‘She shall not see me in this +state.’</p> +<p>Esther hardly knew what to do, but she tried to soothe and +comfort her by following what was evidently the feeling +predominating in Jane’s mind, as indicated by her broken +sentences, and said, ‘It was a pity, to be sure, that Mr. +Devereux came and talked so long, he could not know of your being +so very weak, Miss Jane.’</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ said Jane, faintly, ‘I could have +borne it better if he had waited a few days.’</p> +<p>‘Yes, Miss, when you had not been so very ill. Mr. +Devereux is a very good gentleman, but they do say he is very +sharp.’</p> +<p>‘He means to be kind,’ said Jane, ‘but I do +not think he has much consideration, always.’</p> +<p>‘Yes, Miss Jane, that is just what Mrs. White said, +when—’</p> +<p>Esther’s speech was cut short by the entrance of Miss +Weston. Jane started up, dashed off her tears, and tried to +look as usual, but the paleness of her face, and the redness of +her eyes, made this impossible, and she was obliged to lie down +again. Esther left the room, and Miss Weston did not feel +intimate enough with Jane to ask any questions; she gave her some +<i>sal volatile</i>, talked kindly to her of her weakness, and +offered to read to her; all the time leaving an opening for +confidence, if Jane wished to relieve her mind. The book +which lay near her accounted, as she thought, for her agitation, +and she blamed herself for having judged her harshly as deficient +in feeling, now that she found her so much distressed, because +illness had prevented her confirmation. Under this +impression she honoured her reserve, while she thought with more +affection of Lily’s open heart. Jane, who never took, +or expected others to take, the most favourable view of +people’s motives, thought Alethea knew the cause of her +distress, and disliked her the more, as having witnessed her +humiliation.</p> +<p>Such was Jane’s love of gossip that the next time she +was alone with Esther she asked for the history of Mrs. White, +thus teaching her maid disrespect to her pastor, indirectly +complaining of his unkindness, and going far to annul the effect +of what she had learnt at school. Perhaps during her +hysterics Jane’s conduct was not under control, but +subsequent silence was in her power, and could she be free from +blame if Esther’s faults gained greater ascendency?</p> +<p>The next day Mr. Mohun attempted to speak to Jane, but being +both frightened and unhappy, she found it very easy and natural, +as well as very convenient, to fall into hysterics again, and her +father was obliged to desist, regretting that, at the only time +she was subdued enough to listen to reproof, she was too weak to +bear it without injury. Rachel, who was nearly as despotic +among the young ladies as she had been in former times in the +nursery, now insisted on Emily’s going into the schoolroom, +and when there, she made rapid progress. Alethea was amused +to see how Jane’s decided will and lively spirit would +induce Emily to make exertions, which no persuasions of hers +could make her think other than impossible.</p> +<p>A few days more, and they were nearly well again; and Lilias +so far recovered as to be able to spare her kind friend, who +returned home with a double portion of Lily’s love, and of +deep gratitude from Mr. Mohun; but these feelings were scarcely +expressed in words. Emily gave her some graceful thanks, +and Jane disliked her more than ever.</p> +<p>It was rather a dreary time that now commenced with the young +ladies; they were tired of seeing the same faces continually, and +dispirited by hearing that the fever was spreading in the +village. The autumn was far advanced, the weather was damp +and gloomy, and the sisters sat round the fire shivering with +cold, feeling the large room dreary and deserted, missing the +merry voices of the children, and much tormented by want of +occupation. They could not go out, their hands were not +steady enough to draw, they felt every letter which they had to +write a heavy burden; neither Emily nor Lily could like +needlework; they could have no music, for the piano at the other +end of the room seemed to be in an Arctic Region, and they did +little but read novels and childish stories, and play at chess or +backgammon. Jane was the best off. Mrs. Weston sent +her a little sock, with a request that she would make out the way +in which it was knit, in a complicated feathery pattern, and in +puzzling over her cotton, taking stitches up and letting them +down, she made the time pass a little less heavily with her than +with her sisters.</p> +<h2><a name="page143"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +143</span>CHAPTER XIII<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">A CURIOSITY MAP</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘Keek into the draw-well,<br /> + + +Janet, Janet,<br /> +There ye’ll see your bonny sell,<br /> + + +My jo Janet.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was at this time that Lady +Rotherwood and her daughter arrived at Devereux Castle, and Mr. +Mohun was obliged to go to meet her there, leaving his three +daughters to spend a long winter evening by themselves, in their +doleful and dismal way, as Lily called it.</p> +<p>The evening had closed in, but they did not ring for candles, +lest they should make it seem longer; and Jane was just beginning +to laugh at Emily for the deplorable state of her frock and +collar, tumbled with lying on the sofa, when the three girls all +started at the unexpected sound of a ring at the front door.</p> +<p>With a rapid and joyful suspicion who it might be, Emily and +Lilias sprang to the door, Jane thrust the poker into the fire, +in a desperate attempt to produce a flame, drove an arm-chair off +the hearth-rug, whisked an old shawl out of sight, and flew after +them into the hall, just as the deep tones of a well-known voice +were heard greeting old Joseph.</p> +<p>‘William!’ cried the girls. ‘Oh! is it +you? Are you not afraid of the scarlet fever?’</p> +<p>‘No, who has it?’</p> +<p>‘We have had it, but we are quite well now. How +cold you are!’</p> +<p>‘But where is my father?’</p> +<p>‘Gone to Hetherington with Robert, to meet Aunt +Rotherwood. Come into the drawing-room.’</p> +<p>Here Emily glided off to perform a hurried toilette.</p> +<p>‘And the little ones?’</p> +<p>‘At Broomhill. Mrs. Weston was so kind as to take +them out of the way of the infection,’ said Lily.</p> +<p>‘Oh! William, those Westons!’</p> +<p>‘Westons, what Westons? Not those I knew at +Brighton?’</p> +<p>‘The very same,’ said Lily. ‘They have +taken the house at Broomhill. Oh! they have been so very +kind, I do not know what would have become of us without +Alethea.’</p> +<p>‘Why did you not tell me they were living here? +And you like them?’</p> +<p>‘Like them! No one can tell the comfort Alethea +has been. She came to us and nursed us, and has been my +great support.’</p> +<p>‘And Phyllis and Ada are with them?’</p> +<p>‘Yes, they have been at Broomhill these six weeks, and +more.’</p> +<p>Here Emily came in and told William that his room was ready, +and Rachel on the stairs wishing to see the Captain.</p> +<p>‘How well he looks!’ cried Lily, as he closed the +door; ‘it is quite refreshing to see any one looking so +strong and bright.’</p> +<p>‘And more like Sir Maurice than ever,’ said +Emily.</p> +<p>‘Ah! but Claude is more like,’ said Lily, +‘because he is pale.’</p> +<p>‘Well,’ said Jane, ‘do let us in the +meantime make the room look more fit to be seen before he comes +down.’</p> +<p>The alacrity which had long been wanting to Lilias and Jane +had suddenly returned, and they succeeded in making the room look +surprisingly comfortable, compared with its former desolate +aspect, before William came down, and renewed his inquiries after +all the family.</p> +<p>‘And how is my father’s deafness?’ was one +of his questions.</p> +<p>‘Worse,’ said Emily. ‘I am afraid all +the younger ones will learn to vociferate. He hears no one +well but ourselves.’</p> +<p>‘Oh! and Alethea Weston,’ said Lily. +‘Her voice is so clear and distinct, that she hardly ever +raises it to make him hear. And have you ever heard her +sing?’</p> +<p>‘Yes, she sings very well. I cannot think why you +never told me they were living here.’</p> +<p>‘Because you never honour us with your +correspondence,’ said Emily; ‘if you had vouchsafed +to write to your sisters you could not have escaped hearing of +the Westons.’</p> +<p>‘And has Mr. Weston given up the law?’</p> +<p>‘No, he only came home in the vacation,’ said +Emily. ‘Did you know they had lost two +daughters?’</p> +<p>‘I saw it in the paper. Emma and Lucy were nice +girls, but not equal to Miss Weston. What a shock to Mrs. +Weston!’</p> +<p>‘Yes, she quite lost her health, and the doctors said +she must move into the country directly. Mrs. Carrington, +who is some distant connection, told them of this place, and they +took it rather hastily.’</p> +<p>‘Do they like it?’</p> +<p>‘Oh yes, very much!’ said Emily. ‘Mrs. +Weston is very fond of the garden, and drives about in the +pony-carriage, and it is quite pleasant to see how she admires +the views.’</p> +<p>‘And,’ added Lily, ‘Alethea walks with us, +and sings with me, and teaches at school, and knows all the poor +people.’</p> +<p>‘I must go and see those children to-morrow,’ said +William.</p> +<p>The evening passed very pleasantly; and perhaps, in truth, +Captain Mohun and his sisters were surprised to find each other +so agreeable; for, in the eyes of the young ladies, he was by far +the most awful person in the family.</p> +<p>When he had been last at home Harry’s recent death had +thrown a gloom over the whole family, and he had especially +missed him. Himself quick, sensible, clever, and active, he +was intolerant of opposite qualities, and the principal effect of +that visit to Beechcroft was to make all the younger ones afraid +of him, to discourage poor Claude, and to give to himself a +gloomy remembrance of that home which had lost its principal +charms in his mother and Harry.</p> +<p>He had now come home rather from a sense of duty than an +expectation of pleasure, and he was quite surprised to find how +much more attractive the New Court had become. Emily and +Lilias were now conversible and intelligent companions, better +suited to him than Eleanor had ever been, and he had himself in +these four years acquired a degree of gentleness and +consideration which prevented him from appearing so +unapproachable as in days of old. This was especially the +case with regard to Claude, whose sensitive and rather timid +nature had in his childhood suffered much from William’s +boyish attempts to make him manly, and as he grew older, had +almost felt himself despised; but now William appreciated his +noble qualities, and was anxious to make amends for his former +unkindness.</p> +<p>Claude came home from Oxford, not actually ill, but in the +ailing condition in which he often was, just weak enough to give +his sisters a fair excuse for waiting upon him, and petting him +all day long. About the same time Phyllis and Adeline came +back from Broomhill, and there was great joy at the New Court at +the news that Mrs. Hawkesworth was the happy mother of a little +boy.</p> +<p>Claude was much pleased by being asked by Eleanor to be +godfather to his little nephew, whose name was to be Henry. +Perhaps he hoped, what Lilias was quite sure of, that Eleanor did +not think him unworthy to stand in Harry’s place.</p> +<p>The choice of the other sponsors did not meet with universal +approbation. Emily thought it rather hard that Mr. +Hawkesworth’s sister, Mrs. Ridley, should have been chosen +before herself, and both she and Ada would have greatly preferred +either Lord Rotherwood, Mr. Devereux, or William, to Mr. Ridley, +while Phyllis had wanderings of her own how Claude could be +godfather without being present at the christening.</p> +<p>One evening Claude was writing his answer to Eleanor, sitting +at the sofa table where a small lamp was burning. Jane, +attracted by its bright and soft radiance, came and sat down +opposite to him with her work.</p> +<p>‘What a silence!’ said Lily, after about a quarter +of an hour.</p> +<p>‘What made you start, Jane?’ said William.</p> +<p>‘Did I?’ said Jane.</p> +<p>‘My speaking, I suppose,’ said Lily, +‘breaking the awful spell of silence.’</p> +<p>‘How red you look, Jane. What is the +matter?’ said William.</p> +<p>‘Do I?’ asked Jane, becoming still redder.</p> +<p>‘It is holding your face down over that baby’s +hood,’ said Emily, ‘you will sacrifice the colour of +your nose to your nephew.’</p> +<p>Claude now asked Jane for the sealing-wax, folded up his +letter, sealed it, put on a stamp, and as Jane was leaving the +room at bedtime, said, ‘Jenny, my dear, as you go by, just +put that letter in the post-bag.’</p> +<p>Jane obeyed, and left the room. Claude soon after took +the letter out of the bag, went to Emily’s door, listened +to ascertain that Jane was not there, and then knocked and was +admitted.</p> +<p>‘I could not help coming,’ said he, ‘to tell +you of the trap in which Brownie has been caught.’</p> +<p>‘Ah!’ said Lily, ‘I fancied I saw her +peeping slyly at your letter.’</p> +<p>‘Just so,’ said Claude, ‘and I hope she has +experienced the truth of an old proverb.’</p> +<p>‘Oh! tell us what you have said,’ cried the +sisters.</p> +<p>Claude read, ‘Jane desires me to say that a hood for the +baby shall be sent in the course of a week, and she hopes that it +may be worn at the christening. I should rather say I hope +it may be lost in the transit, for assuredly the head that it +covers must be infected with something far worse than the scarlet +fever—the fever of curiosity, the last quality which I +should like my godson to possess. My only consolation is, +that he will see the full deformity of the vice, as, poor little +fellow, he becomes acquainted with “that worst of plagues, +a prying maiden aunt.” If Jane was simply curious, I +should not complain, but her love of investigation is not +directed to what ought to be known, but rather to find out some +wretched subject for petty scandal, to blacken every action, and +to add to the weight of every misdeed, and all for the sake of +detailing her discoveries in exchange for similar information +with Mrs. Appleton, or some equally suitable +confidante.’</p> +<p>‘Is that all?’ said Lily.</p> +<p>‘And enough, too, I hope,’ said Claude.</p> +<p>‘It ought to cure her!’ cried Emily.</p> +<p>‘Cure her!’ said Claude, ‘no such thing; +cures are not wrought in this way; this is only a joke, and to +keep it up, I will tell you a piece of news, which Jane must have +spied out in my letter, as I had just written it when I saw her +eyes in a suspicious direction. It was settled that +Messieurs Maurice and Redgie are to go for two hours a day, three +times a week, to Mr. Stevens, during the holidays.’</p> +<p>‘The new Stoney Bridge curate?’ said Emily.</p> +<p>‘I am very glad you are not to be bored by them,’ +said Lily, ‘but how they will dislike it!’</p> +<p>‘It is very hard upon them,’ said Claude, +‘and I tried to prevent it, but the Baron was quite +determined. Now I will begin to talk about this plan, and +see whether Jenny betrays any knowledge of it.’</p> +<p>‘Oh! it will be rare!’ cried Lily; ‘but do +not speak of it before the Baron or William.’</p> +<p>‘Let it be at luncheon,’ said Emily, ‘you +know they never appear. Do you mean to send the +letter?’</p> +<p>‘Not that part of it,’ said Claude, ‘you see +I can tear off the last page, and it is only to add a new +conclusion. Good-night.’</p> +<p>Jane had certainly not spent the evening in an agreeable +manner; she had not taken her seat at Claude’s table with +any evil designs towards his letter, but his writing was clear +and legible, and her eye caught the word ‘Maurice;’ +she wished to know what Claude could be saying about him, and +having once begun, she could not leave off, especially when she +saw her own name. When aware of the compliments he was +paying her, she looked at him, but his eyes were fixed on his +pen, and no smile, no significant expression betrayed that he was +aware of her observations; and even when he gave her the letter +to put into the post-bag he looked quite innocent and +unconcerned. On the other hand, she did not like to think +that he had been sending such a character of her to Eleanor in +sober sadness; it was impossible to find out whether he had sent +the letter; she could not venture to beg him to keep it back, she +could only trust to his good-nature.</p> +<p>At luncheon, as they had agreed, Lily began by asking where +her papa and William were gone? Claude answered, ‘To +Stoney Bridge, to call upon Mr. Stevens; they mean to ask him to +dine one day next week, to be introduced to his +pupils.’</p> +<p>‘Is he an Oxford or Cambridge man?’ asked +Lily.</p> +<p>‘Oxford,’ exclaimed Jane, quite forgetting whence +she had derived her information, ‘he is a fellow +of—’</p> +<p>‘Indeed?’ said Lily; ‘how do you know +that?’</p> +<p>‘Why, we have all been talking of him lately,’ +said Jane.</p> +<p>‘Not I,’ said Emily, ‘why should he interest +us?’</p> +<p>‘Because he is to tutor the boys,’ said Jane.</p> +<p>‘When did you hear that he is to tutor the boys?’ +asked Lily.</p> +<p>‘When you did, I suppose,’ said Jane, +blushing.</p> +<p>‘You did, did you?’ said Claude. ‘I +feel convinced, if so, that you must really be what you are so +often called, a changeling. I heard it, or rather read it +first at Oxford, where the Baron desired me to make inquiries +about him. You were, doubtless, looking over my shoulder at +the moment. This is quite a discovery. We shall have +to perform a brewery of egg-shells this evening, and put the elf +to flight with a red-hot poker, and what a different sister Jane +we shall recover, instead of this little mischief-making sprite, +so quiet, so reserved, never intruding her opinion, showing +constant deference to all her superiors—yes, and to her +inferiors, shutting her eyes to the faults of others, and when +they come before her, trying to shield the offender from those +who regard them as merely exciting news.’</p> +<p>Claude’s speech had become much more serious than he +intended, and he felt quite guilty when he had finished, so that +it was not at all an undesirable interruption when Phyllis and +Adeline asked for the story of the brewery of egg-shells.</p> +<p>Emily and Lilias kindly avoided looking at Jane, who, after +fidgeting on her chair and turning very red, succeeded in +regaining outward composure. She resolved to let the matter +die away, and think no more about it.</p> +<p>When Mr. Mohun and William came home, they brought the news +that Lady Rotherwood had invited the whole party to dinner.</p> +<p>‘I am very glad we are allowed to see them,’ said +Emily, ‘I am quite tired of being shut up.’</p> +<p>‘If it was not for the Westons we might as well live in +Nova Zembla,’ said Jane.</p> +<p>‘I am glad you damsels should know a little more of +Florence,’ said Mrs. Mohun.</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ said Claude, ‘cousins were made to be +friends.’</p> +<p>‘In that case one ought to be able to choose +them,’ said William.</p> +<p>‘And know them,’ said Emily. ‘We have +not seen Florence since she was eleven years old.’</p> +<p>‘Cousin or not,’ said Lilias, ‘Florence can +hardly be so much my friend as Alethea.’</p> +<p>‘Right, Lily,’ said William, ‘stand up for +old friends against all the cousins in the universe.’</p> +<p>‘Has Alethea a right to be called an old friend?’ +said Emily; ‘does three quarters of a year make friendship +venerable?’</p> +<p>‘No one can deny that she is a tried friend,’ said +Lilias.</p> +<p>‘But pray, good people,’ said Claude, ‘what +called forth those vows of eternal constancy? why was my innocent +general observation construed into an attack upon Miss +Weston?’</p> +<p>‘Because there is something invidious in your +tone,’ said Lily.</p> +<p>‘What kind of girl is that Florence?’ asked +William.</p> +<p>‘Oh! a nice, lively, pleasant girl,’ said +Claude.</p> +<p>‘I cannot make out what her pursuits are,’ said +Lily; ‘Rotherwood never talks of her reading +anything.’</p> +<p>‘She has been governessed and crammed till she is half +sick of all reading,’ said Claude, ‘of all +study—ay, and all accomplishments.’</p> +<p>‘So that is the friend you recommend, Lily!’ said +William.</p> +<p>‘Well, Claude, that is what I call a great shame,’ +said Emily.</p> +<p>‘Stay,’ said Claude, ‘you have heard but +half my story, I say that this is the reaction. Florence +has no lack of sense, and if you young ladies are wise, you may +help her to find the use of it.’</p> +<p>Claude’s further opinion did not transpire, as dinner +was announced, and nothing more was said about Lady Florence till +the girls had an opportunity of judging for themselves. She +had a good deal of her brother’s vivacity, with gentleness +and grace, which made her very engaging, and her perfect +recollection of the New Court, and of childish days, charmed her +cousins. Lady Rotherwood was very kind and affectionate, +and held out hopes of many future meetings. The next day +Maurice and Reginald came home from school, bringing a better +character for diligence than usual, on which they founded hopes +that the holidays would be left to their own disposal. They +were by no means pleased with the arrangement made with Mr. +Stevens and most unwillingly did they undertake the expedition to +Stony Bridge, performing the journey in a very unsociable +manner. Maurice was no horseman, and chose to jog on foot +through three miles of lane, while Reginald’s pony cantered +merrily along, its master’s head being intent upon the +various winter sports in which William and Lord Rotherwood +allowed him to share. Little did Maurice care for such +diversions; he was, as Adeline said, studying another +‘apology.’ This time it was phrenology, for +which the cropped heads of Lilias and Jane afforded unusual +facility. There was, however, but a limited supply of heads +willing to be fingered, and Maurice returned to the most abiding +of his tastes, and in an empty room at the Old Court laboured +assiduously to find the secret of perpetual motion.</p> +<p>A few days before Christmas Rachel Harvey again took leave of +Beechcroft, with a promise that she would make them another visit +when Eleanor came home. Before she went she gave Emily a +useful caution, telling her it was not right to trust her keys +out of her own possession. It was what Miss Mohun never +would have done, she had never once committed them even to +Rachel.</p> +<p>‘With due deference to Eleanor,’ said Emily, with +her winning smile, ‘we must allow that that was being over +cautious.’</p> +<p>Rachel smiled, but her lecture was not averted by the +compliment.</p> +<p>‘It might have been very well since you have known me, +Miss Emily, but I do not know what would have come of it, if I +had been too much trusted when I was a giddy young thing like +Esther; that girl comes of a bad lot, and if anything is to be +made of her, it is by keeping temptation out of her way, and not +letting her be with that mother of hers.’</p> +<p>Rachel had rather injured the effect of her advice by behaving +too like a mistress during her visit; Emily had more than once +wished that all servants were not privileged people, and she was +more offended than convinced by the remonstrance.</p> +<h2><a name="page155"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +155</span>CHAPTER XIV<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">CHRISTMAS</span></h2> +<blockquote><p> ‘Slee, sla, slud,<br /> + Stuck in the mud,<br /> +O! it is pretty to wade through a flood,<br /> + Come, wheel round,<br /> + The dirt we have found,<br /> +Would he an estate at a farthing a pound.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">Lily’s</span> illness interrupted +her teaching at the village school for many weeks, and she was in +no great haste to resume it. Alethea Weston seemed to enjoy +doing all that was required, and Lily left it in her hands, glad +to shut her eyes as much as possible to the disheartening state +the parish had been in ever since her former indiscretion.</p> +<p>The approach of Christmas, however, made it necessary for her +to exert herself a little more, and her interest in parish +matters revived as she distributed the clothing-club goods, and +in private conference with each good dame, learnt the wants of +her family. But it was sad to miss several names struck out +of the list for non-attendance at church; and when Mrs. Eden came +for her child’s clothing, Lily remarked that the articles +she chose were unlike those of former years, the cheapest and +coarsest she could find.</p> +<p>St. Thomas’s day was marked by the custom, called at +Beechcroft ‘gooding.’ Each mother of a family +came to all the principal houses in the parish to receive +sixpence, towards providing a Christmas dinner, and it was +Lily’s business to dispense this dole at the New +Court. With a long list of names and a heap of silver +before her, she sat at the oaken table by the open chimney in the +hall, returning a nod or a smiling greeting to the thanks of the +women as they came, one by one, to receive the little silver +coins, and warm themselves by the glowing wood fire.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/p156b.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Dispensing the ‘Gooding.’—p. 156" +title= +"Dispensing the ‘Gooding.’—p. 156" + src="images/p156s.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>Pleasant as the task was at first, it ended painfully. +Agnes Eden appeared, in order to claim the double portion +allotted to her mother, as a widow. This was the first time +that Mrs. Eden had asked for the gooding-money, and Lily knew +that it was a sign that she must be in great distress. +Agnes made her a little courtesy, and crept away again as soon as +she had received her shilling; but Mrs. Grey, who was Mrs. +Eden’s neighbour, had not quite settled her penny-club +affairs, and remained a little longer. An unassuming and +lightly-principled person was Mrs. Grey, and Lily enjoyed a talk +with her, while she was waiting for the purple stuff frock which +Jane was measuring off for Kezia. They spoke of the +children, and of a few other little matters, and presently +something was said about Mrs. Eden; Lily asked if the blacksmith +helped her.</p> +<p>‘Oh! no, Miss Lilias, he will do nothing for her while +she sends her child to school and to church. He will not +speak to her even. Not a bit of butter, nor a morsel of +bacon, has been in her house since Michaelmas, and what she would +have done if it was not for Mr. Devereux and Mrs. Weston, I +cannot think.’</p> +<p>Lilias, much shocked by this account of the distress into +which she and Jane had been the means of bringing the widow, +reported it to her father and to the Rector; entreating the +former to excuse her rent, which he willingly promised to do, and +also desired his daughters to give her a blanket, and tell her to +come to dine house whenever any broth was to be given away. +Mr. Devereux, who already knew of her troubles, and allowed her a +small sum weekly, now told his cousins how much the Greys had +assisted her. Andrew Grey had dug up and housed her +winter’s store of potatoes, he had sought work for her, and +little Agnes often shared the meals of his children. The +Greys had a large family, very young, so that all that they did +for her was the fruit of self-denial. Innumerable were the +kindnesses which they performed unknown to any but the widow and +her child. More, by a hundred times, did they assist her, +than the thoughtless girls who had occasioned her sufferings, +though Lily was not the only one who felt that nothing was too +much for them to do. Nothing, perhaps, would have been too +much, except to bear her in mind and steadily aid her in little +things; but Lily took no account of little things, talked away +her feelings, and thus all her grand resolutions produced almost +nothing. Lord Rotherwood sent Mrs. Eden a sovereign, the +girls newly clothed little Agnes, Phyllis sometimes carried her +the scraps of her dinner, Mrs. Eden once came to work at the New +Court, and a few messes of broth were given to her, but in +general she was forgotten, and when remembered, indolence or +carelessness too often prevented the Miss Mohuns from helping +her. In Emily’s favourite phrase, each individual +thing was ‘not worth while.’</p> +<p>When Lilias did think it ‘worth while,’ she would +do a great deal upon impulse, sometimes with more zeal than +discretion, as she proved by an expedition which she took on +Christmas Eve. Mr. Mohun did not allow the poor of the +village to depend entirely on the gooding for their Christmas +dinner, but on the 24th of December a large mess of excellent +beef broth was prepared at the New Court, and distributed to all +his own labourers, and the most respectable of the other +cottagers.</p> +<p>In the course of the afternoon Lily found that one portion had +not been given out. It was that which was intended for the +Martins, a poor old rheumatic couple, who lived at South End, the +most distant part of the parish. Neither of them could walk +as far as the New Court, and most of their neighbours had +followed Farmer Gage, and had therefore been excluded from the +distribution, so that there was no one to send. Lily, +therefore, resolved herself to carry the broth to them, if she +could find an escort, which was not an easy matter, as the frost +had that morning broken up, and a good deal of snow and rain had +been falling in the course of the day. In the hall she met +Reginald, just turned out of Maurice’s workshop, and much +at a loss for employment.</p> +<p>‘Redgie,’ said she, ‘you can do me a great +kindness.’</p> +<p>‘If it is not a bore,’ returned Reginald.</p> +<p>‘I only want you to walk with me to South +End.’</p> +<p>‘Eh?’ said Reginald; ‘I thought the little +Misses were too delicate to put their dear little proboscises +outside the door.’</p> +<p>‘That is the reason I ask you; I do not think Emily or +Jane would like it, and it is too far for Claude. Those +poor old Martins have not got their broth, and there is no one to +fetch it for them.’</p> +<p>‘Then do not be half an hour putting on your +things.’</p> +<p>‘Thank you; and do not run off, and make me spend an +hour in hunting for you, and then say that I made you +wait.’</p> +<p>‘I will wait fast enough. You are not so bad as +Emily,’ said Reginald, while Lily ran upstairs to equip +herself. When she came down, she was glad to find her +escort employed in singeing the end of the tail of the old +rocking-horse at the fire in the hall, so that she was not +obliged to seek him in the drawing-room, where her plans would +probably have met with opposition. She had, however, +objections to answer from an unexpected quarter. Reginald +was much displeased when she took possession of the pitcher of +broth.</p> +<p>‘I will not walk with such a thing as that,’ said +he, ‘it makes you look like one of the dirty girls in the +village.’</p> +<p>‘Then you ought, like the courteous Rinaldo, to carry it +for me,’ said Lily.</p> +<p>‘I touch the nasty thing! Faugh! Throw it +into the gutter, Lily.’</p> +<p>He made an attempt to dispose of it in that manner, which it +required all Lily’s strength to withstand, as well as an +imploring ‘Now, Redgie, think of the poor old people. +Remember, you have promised.’</p> +<p>‘Promised! I never promised to walk with a greasy +old pitcher. What am I to do if we meet Miss +Weston?’</p> +<p>Lily contrived to overcome Reginald’s refined notions +sufficiently to make him allow her to carry the pitcher; and when +he had whistled up two of the dogs, they proceeded merrily along +the road, dirty and wet though it was. Their walk was not +entirely without adventures; first, they had to turn back in the +path by the river side, which would have saved them half a mile, +but was now flooded. Then, as they were passing through a +long lane, which led them by Edward Gage’s farm, a great +dog rushed out of the yard, and fell upon the little terrier, +Viper. Old Neptune flew to the rescue, and to the great +alarm of Lily, Reginald ran up with a stick; happily, however, a +labourer at the same time came out with a pitchfork, and beat off +the enemy. These two delays, together with Reginald’s +propensity for cutting sticks, and for breaking ice, made it +quite late when they arrived at South End. When there, they +found that a kind neighbour had brought the old people their +broth in the morning, and intended to go for her own when she +came home from her work in the evening. It was not often +that Lily went to South End; the old people were delighted to see +her, and detained her for some time by a long story about their +daughter at service, while Reginald looked the picture of +impatience, drumming on his knee, switching the leg of the table, +and tickling Neptune’s ears. When they left the +cottage it was much later and darker than they had expected; but +Lily was unwilling again to encounter the perils of the lane, and +consulted her brother whether there was not some other way. +He gave notice of a cut across some fields, which would take them +into the turnpike road, and Lily agreeing, they climbed over a +gate into a pathless turnip field. Reginald strode along +first, calling to the dogs, while Lily followed, abstaining from +dwelling on the awkward circumstance that every step she took led +her farther from home, and rejoicing that it was so dark that she +could not see the mud which plastered the edge of her +petticoats. After plodding through three very long fields, +they found themselves shut in by a high hedge and tall ditch.</p> +<p>‘That fool of a farmer!’ cried Reginald.</p> +<p>‘What is to be done?’ said Lily, +disconsolately.</p> +<p>‘There is the road,’ said Reginald. +‘How do you propose to get into it?’</p> +<p>‘There was a gap here last summer,’ said the +boy.</p> +<p>‘Very likely! Come back; try the next field; it +must have a gate somewhere.’</p> +<p>Back they went, after seeing the carrier’s cart from +Raynham pass by.</p> +<p>‘Redgie, it must be half-past five! We shall never +be in time. Aunt Rotherwood coming too!’</p> +<p>After a desperate plunge through a swamp of ice, water, and +mud, they found themselves at a gate, and safely entered the +turnpike road.</p> +<p>‘How it rains!’ said Lily. ‘One +comfort is that it is too dark for any one to see us.’</p> +<p>‘Not very dark, either,’ said Reginald; ‘I +believe there is a moon if one could see it. Ha! here comes +some one on horseback. It is a gray horse; it is +William.’</p> +<p>‘Come to look for us,’ said Lily. ‘Oh, +Redgie!’</p> +<p>‘Coming home from Raynham,’ said Reginald. +‘Do not fancy yourself so important, Lily. William, +is that you?’</p> +<p>‘Reginald!’ exclaimed William, suddenly checking +his horse. ‘Lily, what is all this?’</p> +<p>‘We set out to South End, to take the broth to the old +Martins, and we found the meadows flooded, which made us late; +but we shall soon be at home,’ said Lily, in a +make-the-best-of-it tone.</p> +<p>‘Soon? You are a mile and a half from home now, +and do you know how late it is?’</p> +<p>‘Half-past five,’ said Lily.</p> +<p>‘Six, at least; how could you be so absurd?’ +William rode quickly on; Reginald laughed, and they plodded on; +at length a tall dark figure was seen coming towards them, and +Lily started, as it addressed her, ‘Now what is the meaning +of all this?’</p> +<p>‘Oh, William, have you come to meet us? Thank you; +I am sorry—’</p> +<p>‘How were you to come through the village in the dark, +without some one to take care of you?’</p> +<p>‘I am taking care of her,’ said Reginald, +affronted.</p> +<p>‘Make haste; my aunt is come. How could you make +the people at home so anxious?’</p> +<p>William gave Lily his arm, and on finding she was both tired +and wet, again scolded her, walked so fast that she was out of +breath, then complained of her folly, and blamed Reginald. +It was very unpleasant, and yet she was very much obliged to him, +and exceedingly sorry he had taken so much trouble.</p> +<p>They came home at about seven o’clock. Jane met +them in the hall, full of her own and Lady Rotherwood’s +wonderings; she hurried Lily upstairs, and—skilful, quick, +and ready—she helped her to dress in a very short +time. As they ran down Reginald overtook them, and they +entered the drawing-room as the dinner-bell was ringing. +William did not appear for some time, and his apologies were not +such as to smooth matters for his sister.</p> +<p>Perhaps it was for this very reason that Mr. Mohun allowed +Lily to escape with no more than a jesting reproof. Lord +Rotherwood wished to make his cousin’s hardihood and +enterprise an example to his sister, and, in his droll +exaggerating way, represented such walks as every-day +occurrences. This was just the contrary to what Emily +wished her aunt to believe, and Claude was much diverted with the +struggle between her politeness to Lord Rotherwood and her desire +to maintain the credit of the family.</p> +<p>Lady Florence, though liking Lilias, thought this walk +extravagant. Emily feared Lilias had lost her aunt’s +good opinion, and prepared herself for some hints about a +governess. It was untoward; but in the course of the +evening she was a little comforted by a proposal from Lady +Rotherwood to take her and Lilias to a ball at Raynham, which was +to take place in January; and as soon as the gentlemen appeared, +they submitted the invitation to their father, while Lady +Rotherwood pressed William to accompany them, and he was +refusing.</p> +<p>‘What are soldiers intended for but to dance!’ +said Lord Rotherwood.</p> +<p>‘I never dance,’ said William, with a grave +emphasis.</p> +<p>‘I am out of the scrape,’ said the Marquis. +‘I shall be gone before it takes place; I reserve all my +dancing for July 30th. Well, young ladies, is the Baron +propitious?’</p> +<p>‘He says he will consider of it,’ said Emily.</p> +<p>‘Oh then, he will let you go,’ said Florence, +‘people never consider when they mean no.’</p> +<p>‘No, Florence,’ said her brother, ‘Uncle +Mohun’s “consider of it” is equivalent to Le +Roi’s “avisera.”’</p> +<p>‘What is he saying?’ asked Lily, turning to +listen. ‘Oh, that my wig is in no ball-going +condition.’</p> +<p>‘A wreath would hide all deficiencies,’ said +Florence; ‘I am determined to have you both.’</p> +<p>‘I give small hopes of both,’ said Claude; +‘you will only have Emily.’</p> +<p>‘Why do you think so, Claude?’ cried both Florence +and Lilias.</p> +<p>‘From my own observation,’ Claude answered, +gravely.</p> +<p>‘I am very angry with the Baron,’ said Lord +Rotherwood; ‘he is grown inhospitable: he will not let me +come here to-morrow—the first Christmas these five years +that I have missed paying my respects to the New Court sirloin +and turkey. It is too bad—and the Westons dining here +too.’</p> +<p>‘Cousin Turkey-cock, well may you be in a +passion,’ muttered Claude, as if in soliloquy.</p> +<p>Lord Rotherwood and Lilias both caught the sound, and laughed, +but Emily, unwilling that Florence should see what liberties they +took with her brother, asked quickly why he was not to come.</p> +<p>‘I think we are much obliged to him,’ said +Florence, ‘it would be too bad to leave mamma and me to +spend our Christmas alone, when we came to the castle on purpose +to oblige him.’</p> +<p>‘Ay, and he says he will not let me come here, because I +ought to give the Hetherington people ocular demonstration that I +go to church,’ said Lord Rotherwood.</p> +<p>‘Very right, as Eleanor would say,’ observed +Claude.</p> +<p>‘Very likely; but I don’t care for the +Hetherington folks; they do not know how to make the holly in the +church fit to be seen, and they will not sing the good old +Christmas carols. Andrew Grey is worth all the Hetherington +choir put together.’</p> +<p>‘Possibly; but how are they to mend, if their Marquis +contents himself with despising them?’ said Claude.</p> +<p>‘That is too bad, Claude. When you heard how +submissively I listened to the Baron, and know I mean to abide by +what he said, you ought to condole with me a little, if you have +not the grace to lament my absence on your own account. +Why, I thought myself as regular a part of the feast as the +mince-pies, and almost as necessary.’</p> +<p>Here a request for some music put an end to his +lamentations. Lilias was vexed by the uncertainty about the +ball, and was, besides, too tired to play with spirit. She +saw that Emily was annoyed, and she felt ready to cry before the +evening was over; but still she was proud of her exploit, and +when, after the party was gone, Emily began to represent to her +the estimate that her aunt was likely to form of her character, +she replied, ‘If she thinks the worse of me for carrying +the broth to those poor old people, I am sure I do not wish for +her good opinion.’</p> +<p>Mr. Mohun was not propitious when the question of Lily’s +going to the ball was pressed upon him. He said that he +thought her too young for gaieties, and, besides, that late hours +never agreed with her, and he advised her to wait for the 30th of +July.</p> +<p>Lilias knew that it was useless to say any more. She was +much disappointed, and at the same time provoked with herself for +caring about such a matter. Her temper was out of order on +Christmas Day; and while she wondered why she could not enjoy the +festival as formerly, with thoughts fitted to the day, she did +not examine herself sufficiently to find out the real cause of +her uncomfortable feelings.</p> +<p>The clear frost was only cold; the bright sunshine did not +rejoice her; the holly and the mistletoe seemed ill arranged; and +none of the pleasant sights of the day could give her such +blitheness as once she had known.</p> +<p>She was almost angry when she saw that the Westons had left +off their mourning, declaring that they did not look like +themselves; and her vexation came to a height when she found that +Alethea actually intended to go to the ball with Mrs. +Carrington. The excited manner in which she spoke of it +convinced Mr. Mohun that he had acted wisely in not allowing her +to go, since the very idea seemed to turn her head.</p> +<h2><a name="page167"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +167</span>CHAPTER XV<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">MINOR MISFORTUNES</span></h2> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">‘Loving she is, +and tractable though wild.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">In</span> a day or two Lady Rotherwood and +her daughter called at the New Court. On this occasion +Lilias was employed in as rational and lady-like a manner as +could be desired—in practising her music in the +drawing-room; Emily was reading, and Ada threading beads.</p> +<p>Lady Rotherwood greeted her nieces very affectionately, gave a +double caress to Adeline, stroked her pretty curls, admired her +beadwork, talked to her about her doll, and then proceeded to +invite the whole family to a Twelfth-Day party, given for their +especial benefit. The little Carringtons and the Weston +girls were also to be asked. Emily and Lilias were eagerly +expressing their delight when suddenly a trampling, like a charge +of horse, was heard in the hall; the door was thrown back, and in +rushed Reginald and Phyllis, shouting, ‘Such fun!—the +pigs are in the garden!’</p> +<p>At the sight of their aunt they stopped short, looking aghast, +and certainly those who beheld them partook of their +consternation. Reginald was hot and gloveless; his shoes +far from clean; his brown curls hanging in great disorder from +his Scotch cap; his handkerchief loose; his jacket +dusty—but this was no great matter, since, as Emily said, +he was ‘only a boy.’ His bright open smile, the +rough, yet gentleman-like courtesy of his advance to the +Marchioness, his comical roguish glance at Emily, to see if she +was very angry, and to defy her if she were, and his speedy exit, +all greatly amused Lady Florence, and made up for what there +might have been of the wild schoolboy in his entrance.</p> +<p>Poor Phyllis had neither the excuse of being a schoolboy nor +the good-humoured fearlessness that freed her brother from +embarrassment, and she stood stock-still, awkward and dismayed, +not daring to advance; longing to join in the pig-chase, yet +afraid to run away, her eyes stretched wide open, her hair +streaming into them, her bonnet awry, her tippet powdered with +seeds of hay, her gloves torn and soiled, the colour of her brown +holland apron scarcely discernible through its various stains, +her frock tucked up, her stockings covered with mud, and without +shoes, which she had taken off at the door.</p> +<p>‘Phyllis,’ said Emily, ‘what are you +thinking of? What makes you such a figure? Come and +speak to Aunt Rotherwood.’</p> +<p>Phyllis drew off her left-hand glove, and held out her hand, +making a few sidelong steps towards her aunt, who gave her a +rather reluctant kiss. Lily bent her bonnet into shape, and +pulled down her frock, while Florence laughed, patted her cheek, +and asked what she had been doing.</p> +<p>‘Helping Redgie to chop turnips,’ was the +answer.</p> +<p>Afraid of some further exposure, Emily hastily sent her away +to be made fit to be seen, and Lady Rotherwood went on caressing +Ada and talking of something else. Emily had no opportunity +of explaining that this was not Phyllis’s usual condition, +and she was afraid that Lady Rotherwood would never believe that +it was accidental. She was much annoyed, especially as the +catastrophe only served to divert Mr. Mohun and Claude. Of +all the family William and Adeline alone took her view of the +case. Ada lectured Phyllis on her +‘naughtiness,’ and plumed herself on her aunt’s +evident preference, but William was not equally +sympathetic. He was indeed as fastidious as Emily herself, +and as much annoyed by such misadventures; but he maintained that +she was to blame for them, saying that the state of things was +not such as it should be, and that the exposure might be +advantageous if it put her on her guard in future.</p> +<p>It appeared as if poor Phyllis was to be punished for the +vexation which she had caused, for in the course of her +adventures with Reginald she caught a cold, which threatened to +prevent her from being of the party on Twelfth-Day. She had +a cough, which did not give her by any means as much +inconvenience as the noise it occasioned did to other +people. Every morning and every evening she anxiously asked +her sisters whether they thought she would be allowed to +go. Another of the party seemed likely to fail. On +the 5th of January Claude came down to breakfast later even than +usual; but he had no occasion to make excuses, for his heavy +eyes, the dark lines under them, his pale cheeks, and the very +sit of his hair, were sure signs that he had a violent +headache. He soon betook himself to the sofa in the +drawing-room, attended by Lily, with pillows, cushions, ether, +and lavender. Late in the afternoon the pain diminished a +little, and he fell asleep, to the great joy of his sister, who +sat watching him, scarcely daring to move.</p> +<p>Suddenly a frightful scream and loud crash was heard in the +room above them. Claude started up, and Lily, exclaiming, +‘Those tiresome children!’ hurried to the room whence +the noise had come.</p> +<p>Reginald, Phyllis, and Ada, all stood there laughing. +Reginald and Phyllis had been climbing to the top of a great +wardrobe, by means of a ladder of chairs and tables. While +Phyllis was descending her brother had made some demonstration +that startled her, and she fell with all the chairs over her, but +without hurting herself.</p> +<p>‘You naughty troublesome child,’ cried Lily, in no +gentle tone. ‘How often have you been told to leave +off such boyish tricks! And you choose the very place for +disturbing poor Claude, with his bad headache, making it worse +than ever.’</p> +<p>Phyllis tried to speak, but only succeeded in giving a dismal +howl. She went on screaming, sobbing, and roaring so loud +that she could not hear Lily’s attempts to quiet her. +The next minute Claude appeared, looking half distracted. +Reginald ran off, and as he dashed out of the room, came full +against William, who caught hold of him, calling out to know what +was the matter.</p> +<p>‘Only Phyllis screaming,’ said Lily. +‘Oh, Claude, I am very sorry!’</p> +<p>‘Is that all?’ said Claude. ‘I thought +some one was half killed!’</p> +<p>He sank into a chair, pressing his hand on his temples, and +looking very faint. William supported him, and Lily stood +by, repeating, ‘I am very sorry—it was all my +fault—my scolding—’</p> +<p>‘Hush,’ said William, ‘you have done +mischief enough. Go away, children.’</p> +<p>Phyllis had already gone, and the next moment thrust into +Lily’s hand the first of the medicaments which she had +found in the drawing-room. The faintness soon went off, but +Claude thought he had better not struggle against the headache +any longer, but go to bed, in hopes of being better the next +day. William went with him to his room, and Lilias lingered +on the stairs, very humble, and very wretched. William soon +came forth again, and asked the meaning of the uproar.</p> +<p>‘It was all my fault,’ said she; ‘I was +vexed at Claude’s being waked, and that made me speak +sharply to Phyllis, and set her roaring.’</p> +<p>‘I do not know which is the most inconsiderate of +you,’ said William.</p> +<p>‘You cannot blame me more than I deserve,’ said +Lily. ‘May I go to poor Claude?’</p> +<p>‘I suppose so; but I do not see what good you are to +do. Quiet is the only thing for him.’</p> +<p>Lily, however, went, and Claude gave her to understand that he +liked her to stay with him. She arranged his blinds and +curtains comfortably, and then sat down to watch him. +William went to the drawing-room to write a letter. Just as +he had sat down he heard a strange noise, a sound of sobbing, +which seemed to come from the corner where the library steps +stood. Looking behind them, he beheld Phyllis curled up, +her head on her knees, crying bitterly.</p> +<p>‘You there! Come out. What is the matter +now?’</p> +<p>‘I am so very sorry,’ sighed she.</p> +<p>‘Well, leave off crying.’ She would +willingly have obeyed, but her sobs were beyond her own control; +and he went on, ‘If you are sorry, there is no more to be +said. I hope it will be a lesson to you another time. +You are quite old enough to have more consideration for other +people.’</p> +<p>‘I am very sorry,’ again said Phyllis, in a +mournful note.</p> +<p>‘Be sorry, only do not roar. You make that noise +from habit, I am convinced, and you may break yourself off it if +you choose.’</p> +<p>Phyllis crept out of the room, and in a few minutes more the +door was softly opened by Emily, returning from her walk.</p> +<p>‘I thought Claude was here. Is he gone to +bed? Is his head worse?’</p> +<p>‘Yes, the children have been doing their best to +distract him. Emily, I want to know why it is that those +children are for ever in mischief and yelling in all parts of the +house.’</p> +<p>‘I wish I could help it,’ said Emily, with a sigh; +‘they are very troublesome.’</p> +<p>‘There must be great mismanagement,’ said her +brother.</p> +<p>‘Oh, William! Why do you think so?’</p> +<p>‘Other children do not go on in this way, and it was not +so in Eleanor’s time.’</p> +<p>‘It is only Phyllis,’ said Emily.</p> +<p>‘Phyllis or not, it ought not to be. What will +that child grow up, if you let her be always running wild with +the boys?’</p> +<p>‘Consider, William, that you see us at a disadvantage; +we are all unsettled by this illness, and the children have been +from home.’</p> +<p>‘As if they learnt all these wild tricks at +Broomhill! That excuse will not do, Emily.’</p> +<p>‘And then they are always worse in the holidays,’ +pleaded Emily.</p> +<p>‘Yes, there are reasons to be found for everything that +goes wrong; but if you were wise you would look deeper. +Now, Emily, I do not wish to be hard upon you, for I know you are +in a very difficult position, and very young for such a charge, +but I am sure you might manage better. I do not think you +use your energies. There is no activity, nor regularity, +nor method, about this household. I believe that my father +sees that this is the case, but it is not his habit to find fault +with little things. You may think that, therefore, I need +not interfere, but—’</p> +<p>‘Oh, William! I am glad—’</p> +<p>‘But remember that comfort is made up of little +things. And, Emily, when you consider how much my father +has suffered, and how desolate his home must be at the best, I +think you will be inclined to exert yourself to prevent him from +being anxious about the children or harassed by your +negligence.’</p> +<p>‘Indeed, William,’ returned Emily, with many +tears, ‘it is my most earnest wish to make him +comfortable. Thank you for what you have said. Now +that I am stronger, I hope to do more, and I will really do my +best.’</p> +<p>At this moment Emily was sincere; but the good impulse of one +instant was not likely to endure against long cherished habits of +selfish apathy.</p> +<p>Claude did not appear again till the middle of the next +day. His headache was nearly gone, but he was so languid +that he gave up all thoughts of Devereux Castle that +evening. Lord Rotherwood, who always seemed to know what +was going on at Beechcroft, came to inquire for him, and very +unwillingly allowed that it would be better for him to stay at +home. Lilias wished to remain with him; but this her cousin +would not permit, saying that he could not consent to lose three +of the party, and Florence would be disappointed in all her +plans. Neither would Claude hear of keeping her at home, +and she was obliged to satisfy herself with putting his arm-chair +in his favourite corner by the fire, with the little table before +it, supplied with books, newspaper, inkstand, paper-knife, and +all the new periodicals, and he declared that he should enjoy the +height of luxury.</p> +<p>Phyllis considered it to be entirely her fault that he could +not go, and was too much grieved on that account to have many +regrets to spare for herself. She enjoyed seeing Adeline +dressed, and hearing Esther’s admiration of her. And +having seen the party set off, she made her way into the +drawing-room, opening the door as gently as possible, just wide +enough to admit her little person, then shutting it as if she was +afraid of hurting it, she crept across the room on tiptoe. +She started when Claude looked up and said, ‘Why, Phyl, I +have not seen you to-day.’</p> +<p>‘Good morning,’ she mumbled, advancing in her +sidelong way.</p> +<p>Claude suspected that she had been more blamed the day before +than the occasion called for, and wishing to make amends he +kissed her, and said something good-natured about spending the +evening together.</p> +<p>Phyllis, a little reassured, went to her own +occupations. She took out a large heavy volume, laid it on +the window-seat, and began to read. Claude was interested +in his own book, and did not look up till the light failed +him. He then, closing his book, gave a long yawn, and +looked round for his little companion, almost thinking, from the +stillness of the room, that she must have gone to seek for +amusement in the nursery.</p> +<p>She was, however, still kneeling against the window-seat, her +elbows planted on the great folio, and her head between her +hands, reading intently.</p> +<p>‘Little Madam,’ said he, ‘what great book +have you got there?’</p> +<p>‘<i>As You Like It</i>,’ said Phyllis.</p> +<p>‘What! are you promoted to reading +Shakspeare?’</p> +<p>‘I have not read any but this,’ said +Phyllis. ‘Ada and I have often looked at the +pictures, and I liked the poor wounded stag coming down to the +water so much, that I read about it, and then I went on. +Was it wrong, Claude? no one ever told me not.’</p> +<p>‘You are welcome to read it,’ said Claude, +‘but not now—it is too dark. Come and sit in +the great chair on the other side of the fire, and be +sociable. And what do you think of ‘<i>As You Like +It</i>?’’</p> +<p>‘I like it very much,’ answered Phyllis, +‘only I cannot think why <i>Jacks</i> did not go to the +poor stag, and try to cure it, when he saw its tears running into +the water.’</p> +<p>To save the character of <i>Jacks</i>, Claude gravely +suggested the difficulty of catching the stag, and then asked +Phyllis her opinion of the heroines.</p> +<p>‘Oh! it was very funny about Rosalind dressing like a +man, and then being ready to cry like a girl when she was tired, +and then pretending to pretend to be herself; and Celia, it was +very kind of her to go away with Rosalind; but I should have +liked her better if she had stayed at home, and persuaded her +father to let Rosalind stay too. I am sure she would if she +had been like Ada. Then it is so nice about Old Adam and +Orlando. Do not you think so, Claude? It is just what +I am sure Wat Greenwood would do for Redgie, if he was to be +turned out like Orlando.’</p> +<p>‘It is just what Wat Greenwood’s ancestor did for +Sir Maurice Mohun,’ said Claude.</p> +<p>‘Yes, Dame Greenwood tells us that story.’</p> +<p>‘Well, Phyl, I think you show very good taste in liking +the scene between Orlando and Adam.’</p> +<p>‘I am glad you like it, too, Claude. But I will +tell you what I like best,’ exclaimed the little girl, +springing up, ‘I do like it, when Orlando killed the +lioness and the snake,—and saved Oliver; how glad he must +have been.’</p> +<p>‘Glad to have done good to his enemy,’ said +Claude; ‘yes, indeed.’</p> +<p>‘His enemy! he was his brother, you know. I meant +it must be so very nice to save anybody—don’t you +think so, Claude?’</p> +<p>‘Certainly.’</p> +<p>‘Claude, do you know there is nothing I wish so much as +to save somebody’s life. It was very nice to save the +dragon-fly; and it is very nice to let flies out of +spiders’ webs, only they always have their legs and wings +torn, and look miserable; and it was very nice to put the poor +little thrushes back into their nest when they tumbled out, and +then to see their mother come to feed them; and it was very +pleasant to help the poor goose that had put its head through the +pales, and could not get it back. Mrs. Harrington said it +would have been strangled if I had not helped it. That was +very nice, but how delightful it would be to save some real human +person’s life.’</p> +<p>Claude did not laugh at the odd medley in her speech, but +answered, ‘Well, those little things train you in readiness +and kindness.’</p> +<p>‘Will they?’ said Phyllis, pressing on to express +what had long been her earnest wish. ‘If I could but +save some one, I should not mind being killed myself—I +think not—I hope it is not naughty to say so. I +believe there is something in the Bible about it, about laying +down one’s life for one’s friend.’</p> +<p>‘There is, Phyl, and I quite agree with you; it must be +a great blessing to have saved some one.’</p> +<p>‘And little girls have sometimes done it, Claude. +I know a story of one who saved her little brother from drowning, +and another waked the people when the house was on fire. +And when I was at Broomhill, Marianne showed me a story of a +young lady who helped to save the Prince, that Prince Charlie +that Miss Weston sings about. I wish the Prince of Wales +would get into some misfortune—I should like to save +him.’</p> +<p>‘I do not quite echo that loyal wish,’ said +Claude.</p> +<p>‘Well, but, Claude, Redgie wishes for a rebellion, like +Sir Maurice’s, for he says all the boys at his school would +be one regiment, in green velvet coats, and white feathers in +their hats.’</p> +<p>‘Indeed! and Redgie to be Field Marshal?’</p> +<p>‘No, he is to be Sir Reginald Mohun, a Knight of the +Garter, and to ask the Queen to give William back the title of +Baron of Beechcroft, and make papa a Duke.’</p> +<p>‘Well done! he is to take good care of the interests of +the family.’</p> +<p>‘But it is not that that I should care about,’ +said Phyllis. ‘I should like it better for the +feeling in one’s own self; I think all that fuss would +rather spoil it—don’t you, Claude?’</p> +<p>‘Indeed, I do; but Phyllis, if you only wish for that +feeling, you need not look for dangers or rebellions to gain +it.’</p> +<p>‘Oh! you mean the feeling that very good people indeed +have—people like Harry—but that I shall never +be.’</p> +<p>‘I hope you mean to try, though.’</p> +<p>‘I do try; I wish I was as good as Ada, but I am so +naughty and so noisy that I do not know what to do. Every +day when I say my prayers I think about being quiet, and not +idling at my lessons, and sometimes I do stop in time, and behave +better, but sometimes I forget, and I do not mind what I am +about, and my voice gets loud, and I let the things tumble down +and make a noise, and so it was yesterday.’ Here she +looked much disposed to cry.</p> +<p>‘No, no, we will not have any crying this +evening,’ said Claude. ‘I do not think you did +me much mischief, my head ached just as much before.’</p> +<p>‘That was a thing I wanted to ask you about: William +says my crying loud is all habit, and that I must cure myself of +it. How does he mean? Ought I to cry every day to +practise doing it without roaring?’</p> +<p>‘Do you like to begin,’ said Claude, laughing; +‘shall I beat you or pinch you?’</p> +<p>‘Oh! it would make your head bad again,’ said +Phyllis; ‘but I wish you would tell me what he means. +When I cry I only think about what makes me unhappy.’</p> +<p>‘Try never to cry,’ said Claude; ‘I assure +you it is not pleasant to hear you, even when I have no +headache. If you wish to do anything right, you must learn +self-control, and it will be a good beginning to check yourself +when you are going to cry. Do not look melancholy +now. Here comes the tea. Let me see how you will +perform as tea-maker.’</p> +<p>‘I wish the evening would not go away so +fast!’</p> +<p>‘And what are we to do after tea? You are queen of +the evening.’</p> +<p>‘If you would but tell me a story, Claude.’</p> +<p>They lingered long over the tea-table, talking and laughing, +and when they had finished, Phyllis discovered with surprise that +it was nearly bedtime. The promised story was not omitted, +however, and Phyllis, sitting on a little footstool at her +brother’s feet, looked up eagerly for it.</p> +<p>‘Well, Phyl, I will tell you a true history that I heard +from an officer who had served in the Peninsular War—the +war in Spain, you know.’</p> +<p>‘Yes, with the French, who killed their king. Lily +told me.’</p> +<p>‘And the Portuguese were helping us. Just after we +had taken the town of Ciudad Rodrigo, some of the Portuguese +soldiers went to find lodgings for themselves, and, entering a +magazine of gunpowder, made a fire on the floor to dress their +food. A most dangerous thing—do you know +why?’</p> +<p>‘The book would be burnt,’ said Phyllis.</p> +<p>‘What book, you wise child?’</p> +<p>‘The Magazine; I thought a magazine was one of the paper +books that Maurice is always reading.’</p> +<p>‘Oh!’ said Claude, laughing, ‘a magazine is +a store, and as many different things are stored in those books, +they are called magazines. A powder magazine is a store of +barrels of gunpowder. Now do you see why it was dangerous +to light a fire?’</p> +<p>‘It blows up,’ said Phyllis; ‘that was the +reason why Robinson Crusoe was afraid of the +lightning.’</p> +<p>‘Right, Phyl, and therefore a candle is never allowed to +be carried into a powder magazine, and even nailed shoes are +never worn there, lest they should strike fire. One spark, +lighting on a grain of gunpowder, scattered on the floor, might +communicate with the rest, make it all explode, and spread +destruction everywhere. Think in what fearful peril these +reckless men had placed, not only themselves, but the whole town, +and the army. An English officer chanced to discover them, +and what do you think he did?’</p> +<p>‘Told all the people to run away.’</p> +<p>‘How could he have told every one, soldiers, +inhabitants, and all? where could they have gone? No, he +raised no alarm, but he ordered the Portuguese out of the +building, and with the help of an English sergeant, he carried +out, piece by piece, all the wood which they had set on +fire. Now, imagine what that must have been. An +explosion might happen at any moment, yet they had to walk +steadily, slowly, and with the utmost caution, in and out of this +place several times, lest one spark might fly back.’</p> +<p>‘Then they were saved?’ cried Phyllis, +breathlessly; ‘and what became of them +afterwards?’</p> +<p>‘They were both killed in battle, the officer, I +believe, in Badajoz, and the sergeant sometime +afterwards.’</p> +<p>Phyllis gave a deep sigh, and sat silent for some +minutes. Next, Claude began a droll Irish fairy-tale, which +he told with spirit and humour, such as some people would have +scorned to exert for the amusement of a mere child. Phyllis +laughed, and was so happy, that when suddenly they heard the +sound of wheels, she started up, wondering what brought the +others home so soon, and was still more surprised when Claude +told her it was past ten.</p> +<p>‘Oh dear! what will papa and Emily say to me for being +up still? But I will stay now, it would not be fair to +pretend to be gone to bed.’</p> +<p>‘Well said, honest Phyl; now for the news from the +castle.’</p> +<p>‘Why, Claude,’ said his eldest brother, entering, +‘you are alive again.’</p> +<p>‘I doubt whether your evening could have been pleasanter +than ours,’ said Claude.</p> +<p>‘Phyl,’ cried Ada, ‘do you know, Mary +Carrington’s governess thought I was Florence’s +sister.’</p> +<p>‘You look so bright, Claude,’ said Jane, ‘I +think you must have taken Cinderella’s friend with the +pumpkin to enliven you.’</p> +<p>‘My fairy was certainly sister to a Brownie,’ said +Claude, stroking Phyllis’s hair.</p> +<p>‘Claude,’ again began Ada, ‘Miss +Car—’</p> +<p>‘I wish Cinderella’s fairy may be forthcoming the +day of the ball,’ said Lily, disconsolately.</p> +<p>‘And William is going after all,’ said Emily.</p> +<p>‘Indeed! has the great Captain relented?’</p> +<p>‘Yes. Is it not good of him? Aunt Rotherwood +is so much pleased that he consents to go entirely to oblige +her.’</p> +<p>‘Sensible of his condescension,’ said +Claude. ‘By the bye, what makes the Baron look so +mischievous?’</p> +<p>‘Mischievous!’ said Emily, looking round with a +start, ‘he is looking very comical, and so he has been all +the evening.’</p> +<p>‘What? You thought mischievous was meant in +Hannah’s sense, when she complains of Master Reginald being +very mischie-vi-ous.’</p> +<p>Ada now succeeded in saying, ‘The Carringtons’ +governess called me Lady Ada.’</p> +<p>‘How could she bring herself to utter so horrid a +sound?’ said Claude.</p> +<p>‘Ada is more cock-a-hoop than ever now,’ said +Reginald; ‘she does not think Miss Weston good enough to +speak to.’</p> +<p>‘But, Claude, she really did, she thought I was +Florence’s sister, and she said I was just like +her.’</p> +<p>‘I wish you would hold your tongue, or go to bed,’ +said William, ‘I have heard nothing but this nonsense all +the way home.’</p> +<p>While William was sending off Ada to bed, and Phyllis was +departing with her, Lily told Claude that the Captain had been +most agreeable. ‘I feared,’ said she, +‘that he would be too grand for this party, but he was +particularly entertaining; Rotherwood was quite +eclipsed.’</p> +<p>‘Rotherwood wants Claude to set him off,’ said Mr. +Mohun. ‘Now, young ladies, reserve the rest of your +adventures for the morning.’</p> +<p>Adeline had full satisfaction in recounting the +governess’s mistake to the maids, and in hearing from +Esther that it was no wonder, ‘for that she looked more +like a born lady than Lady Florence herself!’</p> +<p>Lilias’s fit of petulance about the ball had returned +more strongly than ever; she partly excused herself to her own +mind, by fancying she disliked the thought of the lonely evening +she was to spend more than that of losing the pleasure of the +ball. Mr. Mohun would be absent, conducting Maurice to a +new school, and Claude and Reginald would also be gone.</p> +<p>Her temper was affected in various ways; she wondered that +William and Emily could like to go—she had thought that +Miss Weston was wiser. Her daily occupations were +irksome—she was cross to Phyllis.</p> +<p>It made her very angry to be accused by the young brothers of +making a fuss, and Claude’s silence was equally +offensive. It was upon principle that he said +nothing. He knew it was nothing but a transient attack of +silliness, of which she was herself ashamed; but he was sorry to +leave her in that condition, and feared Lady Rotherwood’s +coming into the neighbourhood was doing her harm, as certainly as +it was spoiling Ada. The ball day arrived, and it was +marked by a great burst of fretfulness on the part of poor +Lilias, occasioned by so small a matter as the being asked by +Emily to write a letter to Eleanor. Emily was dressing to +go to dine at Devereux Castle when she made the request.</p> +<p>‘What have I to say? I never could write a letter +in my life, at least not to the Duenna—there is no +news.’</p> +<p>‘About the boys going to school,’ Emily +suggested.</p> +<p>‘As if she did not know all about them as well as I can +tell her. She does not care for my news, I see no one to +hear gossip from. I thought you undertook all the formal +correspondence, Emily?’</p> +<p>‘Do you call a letter to your sister formal +correspondence!’</p> +<p>‘Everything is formal with her. All I can say is, +that you and William are going to the ball, and she will say that +is very silly.’</p> +<p>‘Eleanor once went to this Raynham ball; it was her +first and last,’ said Emily.</p> +<p>‘Yes, not long before they went to Italy; it will only +make her melancholy to speak of it—I declare I cannot +write.’</p> +<p>‘And I have no time,’ said Emily, ‘and you +know how vexed she is if she does not get her letter every +Saturday.’</p> +<p>‘All for the sake of punctuality, nothing else,’ +said Lily. ‘I rather like to disappoint fidgety +people—don’t you, Emily?’</p> +<p>‘Well,’ said Emily, ‘only papa does not like +that she should be disappointed.’</p> +<p>‘You might have written, if you had not dawdled away all +the morning.’</p> +<p>This was true, and it therefore stung Emily, who complained +that Lily was very unkind. Lily defended herself sharply, +and the dispute was growing vehement, when William happily cut it +short by a summons to Emily to make haste.</p> +<p>When they were gone Lily had time for reflection. +Good-temper was so common a virtue, and generally cost her so +little effort, that she took no pains to cultivate it, but she +now felt she had lost all claim to be considered amiable under +disappointment. It was too late to bear the privation with +a good grace. She was heartily ashamed of having been so +cross about a trifle, and ashamed of being discontented at +Emily’s having a pleasure in which she could not +share. Would this have been the case a year ago? She +was afraid to ask herself the question, and without going deep +enough into the history of her own mind to make her sorrow and +shame profitable, she tried to satisfy herself with a superficial +compensation, by making herself particularly agreeable to her +three younger sisters, and by writing a very long and +entertaining letter to Eleanor.</p> +<p>She met Emily with a cheerful face the next day, and listened +with pleasure to her history of the ball; and when Mr. Mohun +returned home he saw that the cloud had passed away. But, +alas! Lilias neglected to take the only means of preventing +its recurrence.</p> +<p>The next week William departed. Before he went he gave +his sisters great pleasure by desiring them to write to him, and +not to let him fall into his ancient state of ignorance +respecting the affairs of Beechcroft.</p> +<p>‘Mind,’ was his farewell speech, ‘I expect +you to keep me <i>au courant du jour</i>. I will not be in +the dark about your best friends and neighbours when I come home +next July.’</p> +<h2><a name="page186"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +186</span>CHAPTER XVI<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">VANITY AND VEXATION</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘And still I have to tell the same sad +tale<br /> +Of wasted energies, and idle dreams.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">Devereux Castle</span> now became the +great resort of the Miss Mohuns. They were always sure of a +welcome there. Lady Rotherwood liked to patronise them, and +Florence was glad of their society.</p> +<p>This was quite according to the wishes of Emily, who now had +nothing left to desire, but that the style of dress suitable, in +her opinion, to the granddaughter of the Marquis of Rotherwood, +was more in accordance with the purse of the daughter of the +Esquire of Beechcroft. It was no part of Emily’s +character to care for dress. She was at once too indolent +and too sensible; she saw the vulgarity of finery, and only aimed +at simplicity and elegance. During their girlhood Emily and +Lilias had had no more concern with their clothes than with their +food; Eleanor had carefully taught them plain needlework, and +they had assisted in making more than one set of shirts; but they +had nothing to do with the choice or fashion of their own +apparel. They were always dressed alike, and in as plain +and childish a manner as they could be, consistently with their +station. On Eleanor’s marriage a suitable allowance +was given to each of them, in order that they might provide their +own clothes, and until Rachel left them they easily kept +themselves in very good trim. When Esther came Lily +cheerfully took the trouble of her own small decorations, +considering it as her payment for the pleasure of having Esther +in the house. Emily, however, neglected the useful +‘stitch in time,’ till even ‘nine’ were +unavailing. She soon found herself compelled to buy new +ready-made articles, and expected Lilias to do the same. +But Lilias demurred, for she was too wise to think it necessary +to ruin herself in company with Emily, and thus the two sisters +were no longer dressed alike. A constant fear tormented +Emily lest she should disgrace Lady Rotherwood, or be considered +by some stranger as merely a poor relation of the great people, +and not as the daughter of the gentleman of the oldest family in +the county. She was, therefore, anxious to be perfectly +fashionable, and not to wear the same things too often, and in +her disinterested desire to maintain the dignity of the family +the allowance which she received at Christmas melted away in her +hands.</p> +<p>Lily, though exempt from this folly, was not in a satisfactory +state of mind. She was drawn off from her duties by a kind +of spell. It was not that she liked Florence’s +society better than her home pursuits.</p> +<p>Florence was indeed a very sweet-tempered and engaging +creature; but her mind was not equal to that of Lilias, and there +was none of the pleasure of relying upon her, and looking up to +her, which Lilias had learnt to enjoy in the company of her +brother Claude, and of Alethea Weston. It was only that +Lily’s own mind had been turned away from her former +occupations, and that she did not like to resume them. She +had often promised herself to return to her really useful +studies, and her positive duties, as soon as her brothers were +gone; but day after day passed and nothing was done, though her +visits to the cottages and her lessons to Phyllis were often +neglected. Her calls at Devereux Castle took up many +afternoons. Florence continually lent her amusing books, +her aunt took great interest in her music, and she spent much +time in practising. The mornings were cold and dark, and +she could not rise early, and thus her time slipped away, she +knew not how, uselessly and unsatisfactorily. The three +younger ones were left more to themselves, and to the +maids. Jane sought for amusement in village gossip, and the +little ones, finding the nursery more agreeable than the deserted +drawing-room, made Esther their companion.</p> +<p>Mr. Mohun had, at this time, an unusual quantity of business +on his hands; he saw that the girls were not going on well, but +he had reasons for not interfering at present, and he looked +forward to Eleanor’s visit as the conclusion of their +trial.</p> +<p>‘I cannot think,’ said Marianne Weston one day to +her sister, ‘why Mr. Mohun comes here so often.’</p> +<p>Alethea told her he had some business with their mamma, and +she thought no more of the matter, till she was one day +questioned by Jane. She was rather afraid of Jane, who, as +she thought, disliked her, and wished to turn her into ridicule; +so it was with no satisfaction that she found herself separated +from the others in the course of a walk, and submitted to a +cross-examination.</p> +<p>Jane asked, in a mysterious manner, who had been at Broomhill +that morning.</p> +<p>‘Mr. Mohun,’ said Marianne.</p> +<p>‘What did he go there for?’ said Jane.</p> +<p>‘Alethea says he has some business with +mamma.’</p> +<p>‘Then you did not hear what it was?’</p> +<p>‘I was not in the room.’</p> +<p>‘Are you never there when he comes?’</p> +<p>‘Sometimes.’</p> +<p>‘And is Alethea there?’</p> +<p>‘Oh yes!’</p> +<p>‘His business must be with her too. Cannot you +guess it?’</p> +<p>‘No,’ said Marianne, looking amazed.</p> +<p>‘How can you be so slow?’</p> +<p>‘I am not sure that I would guess if I could,’ +said Marianne, ‘for I do not think they wish me to +know.’</p> +<p>‘Oh! nonsense, it is fine fun to find out +secrets,’ said Jane. ‘You will know it at last, +you may be sure, so there can be no harm in making it out +beforehand, so as to have the pleasure of triumph when the wise +people vouchsafe to admit you into their confidence; I am sure I +know it all.’</p> +<p>‘Then please do not tell me, Jane, I ought not to hear +it.’</p> +<p>‘Little Mrs. Propriety,’ said Jane, ‘you are +already assuming all the dignity of my Aunt Marianne, and +William’s Aunt Marianne—oh! and of little +Henry’s Great-aunt Marianne. Now,’ she added, +laughing, ‘can you guess the secret?’</p> +<p>Marianne stood still in amazement for a moment, and then +exclaimed, ‘Jane, Jane! you do not mean it, you are only +trying to tease me.’</p> +<p>‘I am quite serious,’ said Jane. ‘You +will see that I am right.’</p> +<p>Here they were interrupted, and as soon as she returned from +her walk Marianne, perplexed and amazed, went to her mother, and +told her all that Jane had said.</p> +<p>‘How can she be so silly?’ said Mrs. Weston.</p> +<p>‘Then it is all nonsense, as I thought,’ said +Marianne, joyfully. ‘I should not like Alethea to +marry an old man.’</p> +<p>‘Mr. Mohun is very unlikely to make himself +ridiculous,’ said Mrs. Weston. ‘Do not say +anything of it to Alethea; it would only make her +uncomfortable.’</p> +<p>‘If it had been Captain Mohun, now—’ +Marianne stopped, and blushed, finding her speech unanswered.</p> +<p>A few days after, Mr. Mohun overtook Marianne and her mother, +as he was riding home from Raynham, and dismounting, led his +horse, and walked on with them. Either not perceiving +Marianne, or not caring whether she heard him, he said,</p> +<p>‘Has Miss Weston received the letter she +expected?’</p> +<p>‘No,’ said Mrs. Weston, ‘she thinks, as +there is no answer, the family must be gone abroad, and very +probably they have taken Miss Aylmer with them; but she has +written to another friend to ask about them.’</p> +<p>‘From all I hear,’ said Mr. Mohun, ‘I should +prefer waiting to hear from her, before we make further +inquiries; we shall not be ready before midsummer, as I should +wish my eldest daughter to assist me in making this important +decision.’</p> +<p>‘In that case,’ said Mrs. Weston, ‘there +will be plenty of time to communicate with her. I can see +some of the friends of the family when I go to London, for we +must not leave Mr. Weston in solitude another spring.’</p> +<p>‘Perhaps I shall see you there,’ said Mr. +Mohun. ‘I have some business in London, and I think I +shall meet the Hawkesworths there in May or June.’</p> +<p>After a little more conversation Mr. Mohun took his leave, and +as soon as he had ridden on, Marianne said, ‘Oh! mamma, I +could not help hearing.’</p> +<p>‘My dear,’ said Mrs. Weston, ‘I know you may +be trusted; but I should not have told you, as you may find such +a secret embarrassing when you are with your young +friends.’</p> +<p>‘And so they are to have a governess?’</p> +<p>‘Yes; and we are trying to find Miss Aylmer for +them.’</p> +<p>‘Miss Aylmer! I am glad of it; how much Phyllis +and Ada will like her!’</p> +<p>‘Yes, it will be very good for them; I wish I knew the +Grants’ direction.’</p> +<p>‘Well, I hope Jane will not question me any more; it +will be very difficult to manage, now I know the +truth.’</p> +<p>But poor Marianne was not to escape. Jane was on the +watch to find her alone, and as soon as an opportunity offered, +she began:—</p> +<p>‘Well, auntie, any discoveries?’</p> +<p>‘Indeed, Jane, it is not right to fancy Mr. Mohun can do +anything so absurd.’</p> +<p>‘That is as people may think,’ said Jane.</p> +<p>‘I wish you would not talk in that way,’ said +Marianne.</p> +<p>‘Now, Marianne,’ pursued the tormentor, ‘if +you can explain the mystery I will believe you, otherwise I know +what to think.’</p> +<p>‘I am certain you are wrong, Jane; but I can tell you no +more.’</p> +<p>‘Very well, my good aunt, I am satisfied.’</p> +<p>Jane really almost persuaded herself that she was right, as +she perceived that her father was always promoting intercourse +with the Westons, and took pleasure in conversing with +Alethea. She twisted everything into a confirmation of her +idea; while the prospect of having Miss Weston for a stepmother +increased her former dislike; but she kept her suspicions to +herself for the present, triumphing in the idea that, when the +time came, she could bring Marianne as a witness of her +penetration.</p> +<p>The intercourse between the elder Miss Mohuns and Miss Weston +was, however, not so frequent as formerly; and Alethea herself +could not but remark that, while Mr. Mohun seemed to desire to +become more intimate, his daughters were more backward in making +appointments with her. This was chiefly remarkable in Emily +and Jane. Lilias was the same in openness, earnestness, and +affection; but there was either a languor about her spirits or +they were too much excited, and her talk was more of novels, and +less of poor children than formerly. The constant visits to +Devereux Castle prevented Emily and Lilias from being as often as +before at church, and thus they lost many walks and talks that +they used to enjoy in the way home. Marianne began to grow +indignant, especially on one occasion, when Emily and Lily went +out for a drive with Lady Rotherwood, forgetting that they had +engaged to take a walk with the Westons that afternoon.</p> +<p>‘It is really a great deal too bad,’ said she to +Alethea; ‘it is exactly what we have read of in books about +grandeur making people cast off their old friends.’</p> +<p>‘Do not be unfair, Marianne,’ said Alethea. +‘Lady Florence has a better right to—’</p> +<p>‘Better right!’ exclaimed Marianne. +‘What, because she is a marquis’s +daughter?’</p> +<p>‘Because she is their cousin.’</p> +<p>‘I do not believe Lilias really cares for her half as +much as for you,’ said Marianne. ‘It is all +because they are fine people.’</p> +<p>‘Nay, Marianne, if our cousins were to come into this +neighbourhood, we should not be as dependent on the Mohuns as we +now feel.’</p> +<p>‘I hope we should not break our engagements with +them.’</p> +<p>‘Perhaps they could not help it. When their aunt +came to fetch them, knowing how seldom they can have the +carriage, it would have been scarcely civil to say that they had +rather take a walk with people they can see any day.’</p> +<p>‘Last year Lilias would have let Emily go by +herself,’ said Marianne. ‘Alethea, they are all +different since that Lady Rotherwood came—all except +Phyl. Ada is a great deal more conceited than she was when +she was staying here; she pulls out her curls, and looks in the +glass much more, and she is always talking about some one having +taken her for Lady Florence’s sister. And, Alethea, +just fancy, she does not like me to go through a gate before her, +because she says she has precedence!’</p> +<p>Alethea was much amused, but she would not let Marianne +condemn the whole family for Ada’s folly. ‘It +will all come right,’ said she, ‘let us be patient +and good-humoured, and nothing can be really wrong.’</p> +<p>Though Alethea made the best of it to her sister, she could +not but feel hurt, and would have been much more so if her temper +had been jealous or sentimental. Almost in spite of herself +she had bestowed upon Lilias no small share of her affection, and +she would have been more pained by her neglect if she had not +partaken of that spirit which ‘thinketh no evil, but +beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, and +endureth all things.’</p> +<p>Lilias was not satisfied with either herself, her home, her +sisters, or her school; she was far from being the fresh, happy +creature that she had been the year before. She had seen +the fallacy of her principle of love, but in her self-willed +adherence to it she had lost the strong sense and habit of duty +which had once ruled her; and in a vague and restless frame of +mind, she merely sought from day to day for pleasure and idle +occupation. Lent came, but she was not roused, she was only +more uncomfortable when she saw the Rector, or Alethea, or went +to church. Alethea’s unfailing gentleness she felt +almost as a rebuke; and Mr. Devereux, though always kind and +good-natured, had ceased to speak to her of those small village +matters in which she used to be prime counsellor.</p> +<p>The school became a burthen instead of a delight, and her +attendance there a fatigue. On going in one Sunday morning, +very late, she found Alethea teaching her class as well as her +own. With a look of vexation she inquired, as she took her +place, if it was so very late, and on the way to church she said +again, ‘I thought I was quite in time; I do not like to +hurry the children—the distant ones have not time to +come. It was only half-past nine.’</p> +<p>‘Oh, Lilias,’ said Marianne, ‘it was twenty +minutes to ten, I know, for I had just looked at the +clock.’</p> +<p>‘That clock is always too fast,’ said Lily.</p> +<p>The next Sunday was very cold, and Lilias did not feel at all +disposed to leave the fire when the others prepared to go to the +afternoon school.</p> +<p>‘Is it time?’ said she. ‘I was chilled +at church, and my feet are still like ice; I will follow you in +five minutes.’</p> +<p>Alethea went, and Lilias lingered by the fire. Mrs. +Weston once asked her if she knew how late it was; but still she +waited, until she was startled by the sound of the bell for +evening service. As she went to church with Mrs. Weston and +Emily she met Jane, who told her that her class had been +unemployed all the afternoon.</p> +<p>‘I would have taken them,’ said she, ‘but +that Robert does not like me to teach the great girls, and I do +think Alethea might have heard them.’</p> +<p>‘It is very provoking,’ said Lily, pettishly; +‘I thought I might depend—’ She turned +and saw Miss Weston close to her. ‘Oh, +Alethea!’ said she, ‘I thought you would have heard +those girls.’</p> +<p>‘I thought you were coming,’ said Alethea.</p> +<p>‘So I was, but I am sure the bell rang too early. +I do wish you had taken them, Alethea.’</p> +<p>‘I am sorry you are vexed,’ said Alethea, +simply.</p> +<p>‘What makes you think I am vexed? I only thought +you liked hearing my class.’</p> +<p>They were by this time at the church door, and as they entered +Alethea blamed herself for feeling grieved, and Lily awoke to a +sense of her unreasonableness. She longed to tell Alethea +how sorry she felt, but she had no opportunity, and she resolved +to go to Broomhill the next day to make her confession. In +the night, however, snow began to fall, and the morning showed +the February scene of thawing snow and pouring rain. Going +out was impossible, both on that day and the next. +Wednesday dawned fair and bright; but just after breakfast Lily +received a little note, with the intelligence that Mr. Weston had +arrived at Broomhill on Monday evening, and with his wife and +daughters was to set off that very day to make a visit to some +friends on the way to London. Had not the weather been so +bad, Alethea said she should have come to take leave of her New +Court friends on Tuesday, but she could now only send this note +to tell them how sorry she was to go without seeing them, and to +beg Emily to send back a piece of music which she had lent to +her. The messenger was Faith Longley, who was to accompany +them, and who now was going home to take leave of her mother, and +would call again for the music in a quarter of an hour. +Lily ran to ask her when they were to go. ‘At +eleven,’ was the answer; and Lily telling her she need not +call again, as she herself would bring the music, went to look +for it. High and low did she seek, and so did Jane, but it +was not to be found in any nook, likely or unlikely; and when at +last Lily, in despair, gave up the attempt to find it, it was +already a quarter to eleven. Emily sent many apologies and +civil messages, and Lily set out at a rapid pace to walk to +Broomhill by the road, for the thaw had rendered the fields +impassable. Fast as she walked, she was too late. She +had the mortification of seeing the carriage turn out at the +gates, and take the Raynham road; she was not even seen, nor had +she a wave of the hand, or a smile to comfort her.</p> +<p>Almost crying with vexation, she walked home, and sat down to +write to Alethea, but, alas! she did not know where to direct a +letter. Bitterly did she repent of the burst of ill-temper +which had stained her last meeting with her friend, and she was +scarcely comforted even by the long and affectionate letter which +she received a week after their departure. Kindness from +her was now forgiveness; never did she so strongly feel +Florence’s inferiority; and she wondered at herself for +having sought her society so much as to neglect her patient and +superior friend. She became careless and indifferent to +Florence, and yet she went on in her former course, following +Emily, and fancying that nothing at Beechcroft could interest her +in the absence of her dear Alethea Weston.</p> +<h2><a name="page198"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +198</span>CHAPTER XVII<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">LITTLE AGNES</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘O guide us when our faithless hearts<br /> + From Thee would start aloof,<br /> +Where patience her sweet skill imparts,<br /> + Beneath some cottage roof.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">Palm Sunday</span> brought Lily many +regrets. It was the day of the school prize giving, and she +reflected with shame, how much less she knew about the children +than last year, and how little they owed to her; she feared to +think of the approach of Easter Day, a dread which she had never +felt before, and which she knew to be a very bad sign; but her +regret was not repentance—she talked, and laughed, and +tried to feel at ease. Agnes Eden’s happy face was +the most pleasant sight on that day. The little girl +received a Bible, and as it was given to her her pale face was +coloured with bright pink, her blue eyes lighted up, her smile +was radiant with the beauty of innocence, but Lily could not look +at her without self-reproach. She resolved to make up for +her former neglect by double kindness, and determined that, at +any rate, Passion Week should be properly spent—she would +not once miss going to church.</p> +<p>But on Monday, when Emily proposed to ride to Devereux Castle, +she assented, only saying that they would return for evening +service. She took care to remind her sister when it was +time to set out homewards; but Emily was, as usual, so long in +taking her leave that it was too late to think of going to church +when they set off.</p> +<p>About two miles from Beechcroft Lily saw a little figure in a +gray cloak trudging steadily along the road, and as she came +nearer she recognised Kezia Grey. She stopped and asked the +child what brought her so far from home.</p> +<p>‘I am going for the doctor, Miss,’ said the +child.</p> +<p>‘Is your mother worse?’ asked Lily.</p> +<p>‘Mother is pretty well,’ said Kezia; ‘but it +is for Agnes Eden, Miss—she is terrible bad.’</p> +<p>‘Poor little Agnes!’ exclaimed Lily. +‘Why, she was at school yesterday.’</p> +<p>‘Yes, Miss, but she was taken bad last night.’</p> +<p>After a moment’s consultation between the sisters, Kezia +was told that she might return home, and the servant who +accompanied the Miss Mohuns was sent to Raynham for the +doctor. The next afternoon Lily was just setting out to +inquire for Agnes when Lord Rotherwood arrived at the New Court +with his sister. He wanted to show Florence some of his +favourite haunts at Beechcroft, and had brought her to join his +cousins in their walk. A very pleasant expedition they +made, but it led them so far from home that the church bell was +heard pealing over the woods far in the distance. Lily +could not go to Mrs. Eden’s cottage, because she did not +know the nature of Agnes’s complaint, and her aunt could +not bear that Florence should go into any house where there was +illness. In the course of the walk, however, she met Kezia, +on her way to the New Court, to ask for a blister for Agnes, the +doctor having advised Mrs. Eden to apply to the Miss Mohuns for +one, as it was wanted quickly, and it was too far to send to +Raynham. Lily promised to send the blister as soon as +possible, and desired the little messenger to return home, where +she was much wanted, to help her mother, who had a baby of less +than a week old.</p> +<p>Alas! in the mirth and amusement of the evening Lily entirely +forgot the blister, until just as she went to bed, when she made +one of her feeble resolutions to take it, or send it early in the +morning. She only awoke just in time to be ready for +breakfast, went downstairs without one thought of the sick child, +and never recollected her, until at church, just before the +Litany, she heard these words: ‘The prayers of the +congregation are desired for Agnes Eden.’</p> +<p>She felt as if she had been shot, and scarcely knew where she +was for several moments. On coming out of church, she stood +almost in a dream, while Emily and Jane were talking to the +Rector, who told them how very ill the child was, and how little +hope there was of her recovery. He took leave of them, and +Lily walked home, scarcely hearing the soothing words with which +Emily strove to comfort her. The meaning passed away +mournfully; Lily sat over the fire without speaking, and without +attempting to do anything. In the afternoon rain came on; +but Lily, too unhappy not to be restless, put on her bonnet and +cloak, and went out.</p> +<p>She walked quickly up the hill, and entered the field where +the cottage stood. There she paused. She did not dare +to knock at the cottage door; she could not bear to speak to Mrs. +Eden; she dreaded the sight of Mrs. Grey or Kezia, and she gazed +wistfully at the house, longing, yet fearing, to know what was +passing within it. She wandered up and down the field, and +at last was trying to make up her mind to return home, when she +heard footsteps behind her, and turning, saw Mr. Devereux +advancing along the path at the other end of the field.</p> +<p>‘Have you been to inquire for Agnes?’ said he.</p> +<p>‘I could not. I long to know, but I cannot bear to +ask, I cannot venture in.’</p> +<p>‘Do you like to go in with me?’ said her +cousin. ‘I do not think you will see anything +dreadful.’</p> +<p>‘Thank you,’ said Lily, ‘I would give +anything to know about her.’</p> +<p>‘How you tremble! but you need not be afraid.’</p> +<p>He knocked at the door, but there was no answer; he opened it, +and going to the foot of the stairs, gently called Mrs. Eden, who +came down calm and quiet as ever, though very pale.</p> +<p>‘How is she?’</p> +<p>‘No better, sir, thank you, light-headed +still.’</p> +<p>‘Oh! Mrs. Eden, I am so sorry,’ sobbed +Lily. ‘Oh! can you forgive me?’</p> +<p>‘Pray do not take on so, Miss,’ said Mrs. +Eden. ‘You have always been a very kind friend to +her, Miss Lilias. Do not take on so, Miss. If it is +His will, nothing could have made any difference.’</p> +<p>Lily was going to speak again, but Mr. Devereux stopped her, +saying, ‘We must not keep Mrs. Eden from her, +Lily.’</p> +<p>‘Thank you, sir, her aunt is with her,’ said Mrs. +Eden, ‘and no one is any good there now, she does not know +any one. Will you walk up and see her, sir? will you walk +up, Miss Lilias?’</p> +<p>Lily silently followed her cousin up the narrow stairs to the +upper room, where, in the white-curtained bed, lay the little +child, tossing about and moaning, her cheeks flushed with fever, +and her blue eyes wide open, but unconscious. A woman, whom +Lily did not at first perceive to be Mrs. Naylor, rose and +courtsied on their entrance. Agnes’s new Bible was +beside her, and her mother told them that she was not easy if it +was out of sight for an instant.</p> +<p>At this moment Agnes called out, ‘Mother,’ and +Mrs. Eden bent down to her, but she only repeated, +‘Mother’ two or three times, and then began +talking:</p> +<p>‘Kissy, I want my bag—where is my +thimble—no, not that I can’t remember—my +catechism-book—my godfathers and godmothers in my baptism, +wherein I was made a member—my Christian name—my +name, it is my Christian name; no, that is not it—</p> +<blockquote><p>“It is a name by which I am<br /> + Writ in the hook of life,<br /> +And here below a charm to keep,<br /> + Unharmed by sin and strife;<br /> +As often as my name I hear,<br /> + I hear my Saviour’s voice.”’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Then she began the Creed, but, breaking off, exclaimed, +‘Where is my Bible, mother, I shall read it +to-morrow—read that pretty verse about “I am the good +Shepherd—the Lord is my Shepherd, therefore can I lack +nothing—yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow +of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art within me.”</p> +<blockquote><p>“I now am of that little flock<br /> + Which Christ doth call His own,<br /> +For all His sheep He knows by name,<br /> + And He of them is known.”’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>‘Let us call upon your good Shepherd, Agnes,’ said +the pastor, and the child turned her face towards him as if she +understood him. Kneeling down, he repeated the Lord’s +Prayer, and the feeble voice followed his. He then read the +prayer for a sick child, and left the room, for he saw that Lily +would be quite overcome if she remained there any longer. +Mrs. Eden followed them downstairs, and again stung poor Lily to +the heart by thanks for all her kindness.</p> +<p>They then left the house of mourning; Lily trembled violently, +and clung to her cousin’s arm for support. Her tears +streamed fast, but her sobs were checked by awe at Mrs. +Eden’s calmness. She felt as if she had been among +the angels.</p> +<p>‘How pale you are!’ said her cousin, ‘I +would not have taken you there if I thought it would overset you +so much. Come into Mrs. Grey’s, and sit down and +recover a little.’</p> +<p>‘No, no, do not let me see any one,’ said +Lily. ‘Oh! that dear child! Robert, let me tell +you the worst, for your kindness is more than I can bear. I +promised Agnes a blister and forgot it!’</p> +<p>She could say no more for some minutes, but her cousin did not +speak. Recovering her voice, she added, ‘Only speak +to me, Robert.’</p> +<p>‘I am very sorry for you,’ answered he, in a kind +tone.</p> +<p>‘But tell me, what shall I do?’</p> +<p>‘What to do, you ask,’ said the Rector; ‘I +am not sure that I know what you mean. If your neglect has +added to her sufferings, you cannot remove them; and I would not +add to your sorrow unless you wished me to do so for your +good.’</p> +<p>‘I do not see how I could be more unhappy than I am +now,’ said Lily.</p> +<p>‘I think if you wish to turn your grief to good account +you must go a little deeper than this omission.’</p> +<p>‘You mean that it is a result of general +carelessness,’ said Lily; ‘I know I have been in an +odd idle way for some time; I have often resolved, but I seem to +have no power over myself.’</p> +<p>‘May I ask you one question, Lily? How have you +been spending this Lent?’</p> +<p>‘Robert, you are right,’ cried Lily; ‘you +may well ask. I know I have not gone to church properly, +but how could you guess the terrible way in which I have been +indulging myself, and excusing myself every unpleasant duty that +came in my way? That was the very reason of this dreadful +neglect; well do I deserve to be miserable at Easter, the proper +time for joy. Oh! how different it will be.’</p> +<p>‘It will be, I hope, an Easter marked by repentance and +amendment,’ said the Rector.</p> +<p>‘No, Robert, do not begin to be kind to me yet, you do +not know how very bad I have been,’ said Lily; ‘it +all began from just after Eleanor’s wedding. A mad +notion came into my head and laid hold of me. I fancied +Eleanor stern, and cold, and unlovable; I was ingratitude +itself. I made a foolish theory, that regard for duty makes +people cold and stern, and that feeling, which I confused with +Christian love, was all that was worth having, and the more +Claude tried to cure me, the more obstinate I grew; I drew Emily +over to my side, and we set our follies above everything. +Justified ourselves for idling, neglecting the children, +indulging ourselves, calling it love, and so it was, +self-love. So my temper has been spoiling, and my mind +getting worse and worse, ever since we lost Eleanor. At +last different things showed me the fallacy of my principle, but +then I do believe I was beyond my own management. I felt +wrong, and could not mend, and went on recklessly. You know +but too well what mischief I have done in the village, but you +can never know what harm I have done at home. I have seen +more and more that I was going on badly, but a sleep, a spell was +upon me.’</p> +<p>‘Perhaps the pain you now feel may be the means of +breaking the spell.’</p> +<p>‘But is it not enough to drive me mad to think that +improvement in me should be bought at such a price—the +widow’s only child?’</p> +<p>‘You forget that the loss is a blessing to +her.’</p> +<p>‘Still I may pray that my punishment may not be through +them,’ said Lily.</p> +<p>‘Surely,’ was the answer, ‘it is grievous to +see that dear child cut off; and her patient mother left +desolate—yet how much more grievous it would be to see that +spotless innocence defiled.’</p> +<p>‘If it was to fall on any one,’ said Lilias, +‘I should be thankful that it is on one so fit to +die.’</p> +<p>The church bell began to ring, and they quickened their steps +in silence. Presently Lily said, ‘Tell me of +something to do, Robert, something that may be a pledge that my +sorrow is not a passing shower, something unnecessary, but +disagreeable, which may keep me in remembrance that my Lent was +not one of self-denial.’</p> +<p>‘You must be able to find more opportunities of +self-denial than I can devise,’ said her cousin.</p> +<p>‘Of course,’ said Lily; ‘but some one thing, +some punishment.’</p> +<p>‘I will answer you to-morrow,’ said Mr. +Devereux.</p> +<p>‘One thing more,’ said Lily, looking down; +‘after this great fall, ought I to come to next +Sunday’s feast? I would turn away if you thought +fit.’</p> +<p>‘Lily, you can best judge,’ said the Rector, +kindly. ‘I should think that you were now in a +humble, contrite frame, and therefore better prepared than when +self-confident.’</p> +<p>‘How many times! how shall I think of them! but I +will,’ said Lily; ‘and Robert, will you think of me +when you say the Absolution now and next Sunday at the +altar?’</p> +<p>They were by this time at the church-porch. As Mr. +Devereux uncovered his head, he turned to Lilias, and said in a +low tone, ‘God bless you, Lilias, and grant you true +repentance and pardon.’</p> +<p>Early the next morning the toll of the passing-bell informed +Lily that the little lamb had been gathered into the heavenly +fold.</p> +<p>When she took her place in church she found in her Prayer-book +a slip of paper in the handwriting of her cousin. It was +thus: ‘You had better find out in which duty you have most +failed, and let the fulfilment of that be your proof of +self-denial. R. D.’</p> +<p>Afterwards Lily learnt that Agnes had been sensible for a +short time before her peaceful death. She had spoken much +of her baptism, had begged to be buried next to a little sister +of Kezia’s, and asked her mother to give her new Bible to +Kezia.</p> +<p>It was not till Sunday that Lilias felt as if she could ever +be comforted. Her heart was indeed ready to break as she +walked at the head of the school children behind the +white-covered coffin, and she felt as if she did not deserve to +dwell upon the child’s present happiness; but afterwards +she was relieved by joining in prayer for the pardon of our sins +and negligences, and she felt as if she was forgiven, at least by +man, when she joined with Mrs. Eden in the appointed feast of +Easter Day.</p> +<p>Mrs. Naylor was at church on that and several following +Sundays; but though her husband now showed every kindness to his +sister, he still obstinately refused to be reconciled to Mr. +Devereux.</p> +<p>For many weeks poor little Kezia looked very unhappy. +Her blithe smiles were gone, her eyes filled with tears whenever +she was reminded of her friend, she walked to school alone, she +did not join the sports of the other children, but she kept close +to the side of Mrs. Eden, and seemed to have no pleasure but with +her, or in nursing her little sister, who, two Sundays after the +funeral, was christened by the name of Agnes.</p> +<p>It was agreed by Mr. Mohun and Lilias that the grave of the +little girl should be marked by a stone cross, thus +inscribed:—</p> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">‘<span +class="smcap">Agnes Eden</span>,</p> +<p style="text-align: center">April 8th, 1846,</p> +<p style="text-align: center">Aged 7 years.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">“He shall gather the lambs in +His arms.”’</p> +</blockquote> +<h2><a name="page208"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +208</span>CHAPTER XVIII<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">DOUBLE, DOUBLE TOIL AND +TROUBLE</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘Truly the tender mercies of the weak,<br /> +As of the wicked, are but cruel.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">And</span> how did Lilias show that she +had been truly benefited by her sorrows? Did she fall back +into her habits of self-indulgence, or did she run into +ill-directed activity, selfish as her indolence, because only +gratifying the passion of the moment?</p> +<p>Those who lived with her saw but little change; kind-hearted +and generous she had ever been, and many had been her good +impulses, so that while she daily became more steady in +well-doing, and exerting herself on principle, no one remarked +it, and no one entered into the struggles which it cost her to +tame her impetuosity, or force herself to do what was +disagreeable to herself, and might offend Emily.</p> +<p>However, Emily could forgive a great deal when she found that +Lily was ready to take any part of the business of the household +and schoolroom, which she chose to impose upon her, without the +least objection, yet to leave her to assume as much of the credit +of managing as she chose—to have no will or way of her own, +and to help her to keep her wardrobe in order.</p> +<p>The schoolroom was just now more of a labour than had ever +been the case, at least to one who, like Lilias, if she did a +thing at all, would not be satisfied with half doing it. +Phyllis was not altered, except that she cried less, and had in a +great measure cured herself of dawdling habits and tricks, by her +honest efforts to obey well-remembered orders of Eleanor’s; +but still her slowness and dulness were trying to her teachers, +and Lily had often to reproach herself for being angry with her +‘when she was doing her best.’</p> +<p>But Adeline was Lily’s principal trouble; there was a +change in her, for which her sister could not account. Last +year, when Eleanor left them, Ada was a sweet-tempered, +affectionate child, docile, gentle, and, excepting a little +occasional affectation and carelessness, very free from faults; +but now her attention could hardly be commanded for five minutes +together; she had lost the habit of ready and implicit obedience, +was petulant when reproved, and was far more eager to attract +notice from strangers—more conceited, and, therefore, more +affected, and, worse than all, Lily sometimes thought she +perceived a little slyness, though she was never able to prove +any one instance completely to herself, much less to bring one +before her father. Thus, if Ada had done any mischief, she +would indeed confess it on being examined; but when asked why she +had not told of it directly, would say she had forgotten; she +would avail herself of Phyllis’s assistance in her lessons +without acknowledging it, and Lilias found it was by no means +safe to leave the Key to the French Exercises alone in the room +with her.</p> +<p>Emily’s mismanagement had fostered Ada’s +carelessness and inattention. Lady Rotherwood’s +injudicious caresses helped to make her more affected; other +faults had grown up for want of sufficient control, but this last +was principally Esther’s work. Esther had done well +at school; she liked learning, was stimulated by notice, was +really attached to Lilias, and tried to deserve her goodwill; but +her training at school and at home were so different, that her +conduct was, even at the best, far too much of eye-service, and +she had very little idea of real truth and sincerity.</p> +<p>On first coming to the New Court she flattered the children, +because she did not know how to talk to them otherwise, and +afterwards, because she found that Miss Ada’s affections +were to be gained by praise. Then, in her ignorant +good-nature, she had no scruples about concealing mischief which +the children had done, or procuring for Ada little forbidden +indulgences on her promise of secrecy, a promise which Phyllis +would not give, thus putting a stop to all those in which she +would have participated. It was no wonder that Ada, +sometimes helping Esther to deceive, sometimes deceived by her, +should have learnt the same kind of cunning, and ceased to think +it a matter of course to be true and just in all her +dealings.</p> +<p>But how was it that Phyllis remained the same ‘honest +Phyl’ that she had ever been, not one word savouring of +aught but strict truth having ever crossed her lips, her thoughts +and deeds full of guileless simplicity? She met with the +same temptations, the same neglect, the same bad example, as her +sister; why had they no effect upon her? In the first +place, flattery could not touch her, it was like water on a +duck’s back, she did not know that it was flattery, but so +thoroughly humble was her mind that no words of Esther’s +would make her believe herself beautiful, agreeable, or +clever. Yet she never found out that Esther over-praised +her sister; she admired Ada so much that she never suspected that +any commendation of her was more than she deserved. Again, +Phyllis never thought of making herself appear to advantage, and +her humility saved her from the habit of concealing small faults, +for which she expected no punishment; and, when seriously to +blame, punishment seemed so natural a consequence, that she never +thought of avoiding it, otherwise than by expressing sorrow for +her fault. She was uninfected by Esther’s deceit, +though she never suspected any want of truth; her singleness of +mind was a shield from all evil; she knew she was no favourite in +the nursery, but she never expected to be liked as much as Ada, +her pride and glory. In the meantime Emily went on +contriving opportunities and excuses for spending her time at +Devereux Castle, letting everything fall into Lily’s hands, +everything that she had so eagerly undertaken little more than a +year ago. And now all was confusion; the excellent order in +which Eleanor had left the household affairs was quite +destroyed. Attention to the storeroom was one of the ways +in which Lilias thought that she could best follow the advice of +Mr. Devereux, since Eleanor had always taught that great +exactness in this point was most necessary. Great disorder +now, however, prevailed there, and she found that her only chance +of rectifying it was to measure everything she found there, and +to beg Emily to allow her to keep the key; for, when several +persons went to the storeroom, no one ever knew what was given +out, and she was sure that the sweet things diminished much +faster than they ought to do; but her sister treated the proposal +as an attempt to deprive her of her dignity, and she was +silenced.</p> +<p>She was up almost with the light, to despatch whatever +household affairs could be settled without Emily, before the time +came for the children’s lessons; many hours were spent on +these, while she was continually harassed by Phyllis’s +dulness, Ada’s inattention, and the interruption of work to +do for Emily, and often was she baffled by interference from Jane +or Emily. She was conscious of her unfitness to teach the +children, and often saw that her impatience, ignorance, and +inefficiency, were doing mischief; but much as this pained her, +she could not speak to her father without compromising her +sister, and to argue with Emily herself was quite in vain. +Emily had taken up the principle of love, and defended herself +with it on every occasion, so that poor Lily was continually +punished by having her past follies quoted against herself.</p> +<p>Each day Emily grew more selfish and indolent; now that Lily +was willing to supply all that she neglected, and to do all that +she asked, she proved how tyrannical the weak can be.</p> +<p>The whole of her quarter’s allowance was spent in dress, +and Lily soon found that the only chance of keeping her out of +debt was to spend her own time and labour in her behalf; and what +an exertion of patience and kindness this required can hardly be +imagined. Emily did indeed reward her skill with +affectionate thanks and kind praises, but she interfered with her +sleep and exercise, by her want of consideration, and hardened +herself more and more in her apathetic selfishness.</p> +<p>Some weeks after Easter Lilias was arranging some books on a +shelf in the schoolroom, when she met with a crumpled piece of +music-paper, squeezed in behind the books. It proved to be +Miss Weston’s lost song, creased, torn, dust-stained, and +spoiled; she carried it to Emily, who decided that nothing could +be done but to copy it for Alethea, and apologise for the +disaster. Framing apologies was more in Emily’s way +than copying music; and the former task, therefore, devolved upon +Lily, and occupied her all one afternoon, when she ought to have +been seeking a cure for the headache in the fresh air. It +was no cure to find the name of Emma Weston in the corner, and to +perceive how great and irreparable the loss of the paper was to +her friend. The thought of all her wrongs towards Alethea, +caused more than one large tear to fall, to blot the heads of her +crotchets and quavers, and thus give her all her work to do over +again.</p> +<p>The letter that she wrote was so melancholy and repentant, +that it gave great pain to her kind friend, who thought illness +alone could account for the dejection apparent in the general +tone of all her expressions. In answer, she sent a very +affectionate consoling letter, begging Lily to think no more of +the matter; and though she had too much regard for truth to say +that she had not been grieved by the loss of Emma’s +writing, she added that Lily’s distress gave her far more +pain, and that her copy would have great value in her eyes.</p> +<p>The beginning of June now arrived, and brought with it the +time for the return of Claude and Lord Rotherwood.</p> +<p>The Marquis’s carriage met him at Raynham, and he set +down Claude at New Court, on his way to Hetherington, just coming +in to exchange a hurried greeting with the young ladies.</p> +<p>Their attention was principally taken up by their brother.</p> +<p>‘Claude, how well you look! How fat you +are!’ was their exclamation.</p> +<p>‘Is not he?’ said Lord Rotherwood. ‘I +am quite proud of him. Not one headache since he +went. He will have no excuse for not dancing the +polka.’</p> +<p>‘I do not return the compliment to you, Lily,’ +said Claude, looking anxiously at his sister. ‘What +is the matter with you? Have you been ill?’</p> +<p>‘Oh, no! not at all!’ said Lily, smiling.</p> +<p>‘I am sure there is enough to make any one ill,’ +said Emily, in her deplorable tone; ‘I thought this poor +parish had had its share of illness, with the scarlet fever, and +now it has turned to a horrible typhus fever.’</p> +<p>‘Indeed!’ said Claude. ‘Where? +Who?’</p> +<p>‘Oh! the Naylors, and the Rays, and the Walls. +John Ray died this morning, and they do not think that Tom Naylor +will live.’</p> +<p>‘Well,’ interrupted Lord Rotherwood, ‘I +shall not stop to hear any more of this chapter of +accidents. I am off, but mind, remember the 30th, and do +not any of you frighten yourselves into the fever.’</p> +<p>He went, and Lily now spoke. ‘There is one thing +in all this, Claude, that is matter of joy, Tom Naylor has sent +for Robert.’</p> +<p>‘Then, Lily, I do most heartily congratulate +you.’</p> +<p>‘I hope things may go better,’ said Lily, with +tears in her eyes. ‘The poor baby is with its +grandmother. Mrs. Naylor is ill too, and every one is so +afraid of the fever that nobody goes near them but Robert, and +Mrs. Eden, and old Dame Martin. Robert says Naylor is in a +satisfactory frame—determined on having the baby +christened—but, oh! I am afraid the christening is to be +bought by something terrible.’</p> +<p>‘I do not think those fevers are often very +infectious,’ said Claude.</p> +<p>‘So papa says,’ replied Emily; ‘but Robert +looks very ill. He is wearing himself out with sitting +up. Making himself nurse as well as everything +else.’</p> +<p>This was very distressing, but still Claude scarcely thought +it accounted for the change that had taken place in Lilias. +Her cheek was pale, her eye heavy, her voice had lost its merry +tone; Claude knew that she had had much to grieve her, but he was +as yet far from suspecting how she was overworked and +harassed. He spoke of Eleanor’s return, and she did +not brighten; she smiled sadly at his attempts to cheer her, and +he became more and more anxious about her. He was not long +in discovering what was the matter.</p> +<p>The second day after his return Robert told them at the +churchyard gate that Tom Naylor was beginning to mend, and this +seemed to be a great comfort to Lily, who walked home with a +blither step than usual. Claude betook himself to the +study, and saw no more of his sisters till two o’clock, +when Lily appeared, with the languid, dejected look which she had +lately worn, and seemed to find it quite an effort to keep the +tears out of her eyes. Ada and Phyllis were in very high +spirits, because they were going to Raynham with Emily and Jane, +and at every speech of Ada’s Lily looked more +grieved. After the Raynham party were gone Claude began to +look for Lily. He found her in her room, an evening dress +spread on the bed, a roll of ribbon in one hand, and with the +other supporting her forehead, while tears were slowly rolling +down her cheeks.</p> +<p>‘Lily, my dear, what is the matter?’</p> +<p>‘Oh! nothing, nothing, Claude,’ said she, +quickly.</p> +<p>‘Nothing! no, that is not true. Tell me, +Lily. You have been disconsolate ever since I came home, +and I will not let it go on so. No answer? Then am I +to suppose that these new pearlins are the cause of her +sorrow? Come, Lily, be like yourself, and speak. More +tears! Here, drink this water, be yourself again, or I +shall be angry and vexed. Now then, that is right: make an +effort, and tell me.’</p> +<p>‘There is nothing to tell,’ said Lily; ‘only +you are very kind—I do not know what is the matter with +me—only I have been very foolish of late—and +everything makes me cry.’</p> +<p>‘My poor child, I knew you had not been well. They +do not know how to take care of you, Lily, and I shall take you +in hand. I am going to order the horses, and we will have a +gallop over the Downs, and put a little colour into your +cheeks.’</p> +<p>‘No, no, thank you, Claude, I cannot come, indeed I +cannot, I have this work, which must be done to-day.’</p> +<p>‘At work at your finery instead of coming out! You +must be altered, indeed, Lily.’</p> +<p>‘It is not for myself,’ said Lily, ‘but I +promised Emily she should have it ready to wear +to-morrow.’</p> +<p>‘Emily, oh? So she is making a slave of +you?’</p> +<p>‘No, no, it was a voluntary promise. She does not +care about it, only she would be disappointed, and I have +promised.’</p> +<p>‘I hate promises!’ said Claude. ‘Well, +what must be, must be, so I will resign myself to this promise of +yours, only do not make such another. Well, but that was +not all; you were not crying about that fine green thing, were +you?’</p> +<p>‘Oh, no!’ said Lily, smiling, as now she could +smile again.</p> +<p>‘What then? I will know, Lily.’</p> +<p>‘I was only vexed at something about the +children.’</p> +<p>‘Then what was it?’</p> +<p>‘It was only that Ada was idle at her lessons; I told +her to learn a verb as a punishment, she went to Emily, and, +somehow or other, Emily did not find out the exact facts, excused +her, and took her to Raynham. I was vexed, because I am +sure it does Ada harm, and Emily did not understand what I said +afterwards; I am sure she thought me unjust.’</p> +<p>‘How came she not to be present?’</p> +<p>‘Emily does not often sit in the schoolroom in the +morning, since she has been about that large drawing.’</p> +<p>‘So you are governess as well as ladies’-maid, are +you, Lily? What else? Housekeeper, I suppose, as I +see you have all the weekly bills on your desk. Why, Lily, +this is perfectly philanthropic of you. You are +exemplifying the rule of love in a majestic manner. Crying +again! Water lily once more?’</p> +<p>Lily looked up, and smiled; ‘Claude, how can you talk of +that old, silly, nay, wicked nonsense of my principle. I +was wise above what was written, and I have my punishment in the +wreck which my “frenzy of spirit and folly of tongue” +have wrought. The unchristened child, Agnes’s death, +the confusion of this house, all are owing to my hateful +principle. I see the folly of it now, but Emily has taken +it up, and acts upon it in everything. I do struggle +against it a little; but I cannot blame any one, I can do no +good, it is all owing to me. We have betrayed papa’s +confidence; if he does not see it now it will all come upon him +when Eleanor comes home, and what is to become of us? How +it will grieve him to see that we cannot be trusted!’</p> +<p>‘Poor Lily!’ said Claude. ‘It is a bad +prospect, but I think you see the worst side of it. You are +not well, and, therefore, doleful. This, Lily, I can tell +you, that the Baron always considered Emily’s government as +a kind of experiment, and so perhaps he will not be so grievously +disappointed as you expect. Besides, I have a strong +suspicion that Emily’s own nature has quite as much to do +with her present conduct as your principle, which, after all, did +not live very long.’</p> +<p>‘Just long enough to unsettle me, and make it more +difficult for me to get any way right,’ said Lily. +‘Oh! dear, what would I give to force backward the wheels +of time!’</p> +<p>‘But as you cannot, you had better try to brighten up +your energies. Come, you know I cannot tell you not to look +back, but I can tell you not to look forward. Nay, I do +tell you literally, to look forward, out of the window, instead +of back into this hot room. Do not you think the plane-tree +there looks very inviting? Suppose we transport +Emily’s drapery there, and I want to refresh my memory with +Spenser; I do not think I have touched him since plane-tree time +last year.’</p> +<p>‘I believe Spenser and the plane-tree are inseparably +woven together in your mind,’ said Lily.</p> +<p>‘Yes, ever since the time when I first met with the +book. I remember well roving over the bookcase, and meeting +with it, and taking it out there, for fear Eleanor should see me +and tell mama. Phyl, with <i>As You Like It</i>, put me +much in mind of myself with that.’</p> +<p>Claude talked in this manner, while Lily, listening with a +smile, prepared her work. He read, and she listened. +It was such a treat as she had not enjoyed for a long time, for +she had begun to think that all her pleasant reading days were +past. Her work prospered, and her face was bright when her +sisters came home.</p> +<p>But, alas! Emily was not pleased with her performance; +she said that she intended something quite different, and by +manner, rather than by words, indicated that she should not be +satisfied unless Lily completely altered it. It was to be +worn at the castle the next evening, and Lily knew she should +have no time for it in the course of the day. Accordingly, +at half-past twelve, as Claude was going up to bed, he saw a +light under his sister’s door, and knocked to ask the +cause. Lily was still at work upon the trimming, and very +angry he was, particularly when she begged him to take care not +to disturb Emily. At last, by threatening to awake her, for +the express purpose of giving her a scolding, he made Lily +promise to go to bed immediately, a promise which she, poor weary +creature, was very glad to make.</p> +<p>Claude now resolved to tell his father the state of things, +for he well knew that though it was easy to obtain a general +promise from Emily, it was likely to be of little effect in +preventing her from spurring her willing horse to death.</p> +<p>The next morning he rose in time to join his father in the +survey which he usually took of his fields before breakfast, and +immediately beginning on the subject on which he was anxious, he +gave a full account of his sister’s proceedings. +‘In short,’ said he, ‘Emily and Ada torment +poor Lily every hour of her life; she bears it all as a sort of +penance, and how it is to end I cannot tell.’</p> +<p>‘Unless,’ said Mr. Mohun, smiling, ‘as +Rotherwood would say, Jupiter will interfere. Well, Jupiter +has begun to take measures, and has asked Mrs. Weston to look out +for a governess. Eh! Claude?’ he continued, +after a pause, ‘you set up your eyebrows, do you? You +think it will be a bore. Very likely, but there is nothing +else to be done. Jane is under no control, Phyllis running +wild, Ada worse managed than any child of my +acquaintance—’</p> +<p>‘And poor Lily wearing herself to a shadow, in vain +attempts to mend matters,’ said Claude.</p> +<p>‘If Lily was the eldest, things would be very +different,’ said Mr. Mohun.</p> +<p>‘Or even if she had been as wise last year as she is +now,’ said Claude, ‘she would have kept Emily in +order then, but now it is too late.’</p> +<p>‘This year is, on many accounts, much to be +regretted,’ said Mr. Mohun, ‘but I think it has +brought out Lily’s character.’</p> +<p>‘And a very fine character it is,’ said +Claude.</p> +<p>‘Very. She has been, and is, more childish than +Eleanor ever was, but she is her superior in most points. +She has been your pupil, Claude, and she does you +credit.’</p> +<p>‘Thereby hangs a tale which does me no credit,’ +muttered Claude, as he remembered how foolishly he had roused her +spirit of contradiction, besides the original mischief of naming +Eleanor the duenna; ‘but we will not enter into that +now. I see this governess is their best chance. Have +you heard of one?’</p> +<p>‘Of several; but the only one who seems likely to suit +us is out of reach for the present, and I do not regret it, for I +shall not decide till Eleanor comes.’</p> +<p>‘Emily will not be much pleased,’ said +Claude. ‘It has long been her great dread that Aunt +Rotherwood should recommend one.’</p> +<p>‘Ay, Emily’s objections and your aunt’s +recommendations are what I would gladly avoid,’ said Mr. +Mohun.</p> +<p>‘But Lily!’ said Claude, returning to the subject +on which he was most anxious. ‘She is already what +Ada calls a monotony, and there will be nothing left of her by +the time Eleanor comes, if matters go on in their present +fashion.’</p> +<p>‘I have a plan for her. A little change will set +her to rights, and we will take her to London when we go next +week to meet Eleanor. She deserves a little extra pleasure; +you must take her under your protection, and lionise her +well.’</p> +<p>‘Trust me for that,’ said Claude. ‘It +is the best news I have heard for a long time.’</p> +<p>‘Well, I am glad that one of my remedies meets with your +approbation,’ said his father, smiling. ‘For +the other, you are much inclined to pronounce the cure as bad as +the disease.’</p> +<p>‘Not for Lily,’ said Claude, laughing.</p> +<p>‘And,’ said Mr. Mohun, ‘I think I can +promise you that a remedy will be found for all the other +grievances by Michaelmas.’</p> +<p>Claude looked surprised, but as Mr. Mohun explained no +further, only observing upon the potatoes, through which they +were walking, he only said, ‘Then it is next week that you +go to London.’</p> +<p>‘There is much to do, both for Rotherwood and for +Eleanor; I shall go as soon as I can, but I do not think it will +be while this fever is so prevalent. I had rather not be +from home—I do not like Robert’s looks.’</p> +<h2><a name="page222"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +222</span>CHAPTER XIX<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE RECTOR’S ILLNESS</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘Thou drooping sick man, bless the guide<br +/> +That checked, or turned thy headstrong youth.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> thought of her brother’s +kindness, and the effect of his consolation, made Lilias awake +that morning in more cheerful spirits; but it was not long before +grief and anxiety again took possession of her.</p> +<p>The first sound that she heard on opening the schoolroom +window was the tolling of the church bell, giving notice of the +death of another of those to whom she felt bound by the ties of +neighbourhood.</p> +<p>At church she saw that Mr. Devereux was looking more ill than +he yet had done, and it was plainly with very great exertion that +he succeeded in finishing the service. The Mohun party +waited, as usual, to speak to him afterwards, for since his +attendance upon Naylor had begun he had not thought it safe to +come to the New Court as usual, lest he should bring the +infection to them. He was very pale, and walked wearily, +but he spoke cheerfully, as he told them that Naylor was now +quite out of danger.</p> +<p>‘Then I hope you did not stay there all last +night,’ said Mr. Mohun.</p> +<p>‘No, I did not, I was so tired when I came back from +poor John Ray’s funeral, that I thought I would take a +holiday, and sleep at home.’</p> +<p>‘I am afraid you have not profited by your night’s +rest,’ said Emily, ‘you look as if you had a horrible +headache.’</p> +<p>‘Now,’ said Mr. Mohun, ‘I prescribe for you +that you go home and lie down. I am going to Raynham, and I +will tell your friend there that you want help for the evening +service. Do not think of moving again to-day. I shall +send Claude home with you to see that you obey my +prescription.’</p> +<p>Claude went home with his cousin, and his sisters saw him no +more till late in the day, when he came to tell them that Mr. +Mohun had brought back Dr. Leslie from Raynham with him, that Dr. +Leslie had seen Mr. Devereux, and had pronounced that he had +certainly caught the fever.</p> +<p>Lily had made up her mind to this for some time, but still it +seemed almost as great a blow as if it had come without any +preparation. The next day was the first Sunday that Mr. +Devereux had not read the service since he had been Rector of +Beechcroft. The villagers looked sadly at the stranger who +appeared in his place, and many tears were shed when the prayers +of the congregation were desired for Robert Devereux, and Thomas +and Martha Naylor. It was announced that the daily service +would be discontinued for the present, and Lily felt as if all +the blessings which she had misused were to be taken from +her.</p> +<p>For some time Mr. Devereux continued very ill, and Dr. Leslie +gave little hope of his improvement. Mr. Mohun and Claude +were his constant attendants—an additional cause of anxiety +to the Miss Mohuns. Emily was listless and melancholy, +talking in a maundering, dismal way, not calculated to brace her +spirits or those of her sisters. Jane was not without +serious thoughts, but whether they would benefit her depended on +herself; for, as we have seen by the events of the autumn, sorrow +and suffering do not necessarily produce good effects, though +some effects they always produce.</p> +<p>Thus it was with Lilias. Grief and anxiety aided her in +subduing her will and learning resignation. She did not +neglect her daily duties, but was more exact in their fulfilment; +and low as her spirits had been before, she now had an inward +spring which enabled her to be the support of the rest. She +was useful to her father, always ready to talk to Claude, or walk +with him in the intervals when he was sent out of the sickroom to +rest and breathe the fresh air. She was cheerful and +patient with Emily, and devoid of petulance when annoyed by the +spirits of the younger ones rising higher than accorded with the +sad and anxious hearts of their elders. Her most painful +feeling was, that it was possible that she might be punished +through her cousin, as she had already been through Agnes; that +her follies might have brought this distress upon every one, and +that this was the price at which the child’s baptism was to +be bought. Yet Lily would not have changed her present +thoughts for any of her varying frames of mind since that fatal +Whitsuntide. Better feelings were springing up within her +than she had then known; the church service and Sunday were +infinitely more to her, and she was beginning to obtain peace of +mind independent of external things.</p> +<p>She could not help rejoicing to see how many evidences of +affection to the Rector were called forth by this illness; +presents of fruit poured in from all quarters, from Lord +Rotherwood’s choice hothouse grapes, to poor little Kezia +Grey’s wood-strawberries; inquiries were continual, and the +stillness of the village was wonderful. There was no +cricket on the hill, no talking in the street, no hallooing in +the hay-field, and no burst of noise when the children were let +out of school. Many of the people were themselves in grief +for the loss of their own relations; and when on Sunday the Miss +Mohuns saw how many were dressed in black, they thought with a +pang how soon they themselves might be mourning for one whose +influence they had crippled, and whose plans they had thwarted +during the three short years of his ministry.</p> +<p>During this time it was hard to say whether Lord Rotherwood +was more of a comfort or a torment. He was attached to his +cousin with all the ardour of his affectionate disposition, and +not one day passed without his appearing at Beechcroft. At +first it was always in the parlour at the parsonage that he took +up his station, and waited till he could find some means of +getting at Claude or his uncle, to hear the last report from +them, and if possible to make Claude come out for a walk or ride +with him. And once Mr. Mohun caught him standing just +outside Mr. Devereux’s door, waiting for an opportunity to +make an entrance. He could not, or would not see why Mr. +Mohun should allow Claude to run the risk of infection rather +than himself, and thus he kept his mother in continual anxiety, +and even his uncle could not feel by any means certain that he +would not do something imprudent. At last a promise was +extracted from him that he would not again enter the parsonage, +but he would not gratify Lady Rotherwood so far as to abstain +from going to Beechcroft, a place which she began to regard with +horror. He now was almost constantly at the New Court, +talking over the reports, and quite provoking Emily by never +desponding, and never choosing to perceive how bad things really +were. Every day which was worse than the last was supposed +to be the crisis, and every restless sleep that they heard of he +interpreted into the beginning of recovery. At last, +however, after ten days of suspense, the report began to improve, +and Claude came to the New Court with a more cheerful face, to +say that his cousin was munch better. The world seemed +immediately to grow brighter, people went about with joyful +looks, Lord Rotherwood declared that from the first he had known +all would be well, and Lily began to hope that now she had been +spared so heavy a punishment, it was a kind of earnest that other +things would mend, that she had suffered enough. The future +no longer hung before her in such dark colours as before Mr. +Devereux’s illness, though still the New Court was in no +satisfactory state, and still she had reason to expect that her +father and Eleanor would be disappointed and grieved. +Thankfulness that Mr. Devereux was recovering, and that Claude +had escaped the infection, made her once more hopeful and +cheerful; she let the morrow take thought for the things of +itself, rejoicing that it was not her business to make +arrangements.</p> +<h2><a name="page227"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +227</span>CHAPTER XX<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE LITTLE NEPHEW</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘You must be father, mother, both,<br /> + And uncle, all in one.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Mohun</span> had much business to +transact in London which he could not leave undone, and as soon +as his nephew began to recover he thought of setting off to meet +Mr. and Mrs. Hawkesworth, who had already been a week at Lady +Rotherwood’s house in Grosvenor Square, which she had lent +to them for the occasion. Claude had intended to stay at +home, as his cousin was not yet well enough to leave the room; +but just at this time a college friend of the Rector’s, +hearing of his illness, wrote to propose to come and stay with +him for a month or six weeks, and help him in serving his +church. Mr. Devereux was particularly glad to accept this +kind offer, as it left him no longer dependent on Mr. Stephens +and the Raynham curates, and set Claude at liberty for the London +expedition. All was settled in the short space of one +day. The very next they were to set off, and in great +haste; Lily did all she could for the regulation of the house, +packed up her goods, and received the commissions of her +sisters.</p> +<p>Ada gave her six shillings, with orders to buy either a doll +or a book—the former if Eleanor did not say it was silly; +and Phyllis put into her hands a weighty crown piece, begging for +as many things as it could buy. Jane’s wants and +wishes were moderate and sensible, and she gave Lily the money +for them. With Emily there was more difficulty. All +Lily’s efforts had not availed to prevent her from +contracting two debts at Raynham. More than four pounds she +owed to Lily, and this she offered to pay her, giving her at the +same time a list of commissions sufficient to swallow up double +her quarter’s allowance. Lily, though really in want +of the money for her own use, thought the debts at Raynham so +serious, that she begged Emily to let her wait for payment till +it was convenient, and to pay the shoemaker and dressmaker +immediately.</p> +<p>Emily thanked her, and promised to do so as soon as she could +go to Raynham, and Lily next attempted to reduce her list of +London commissions to something more reasonable. In part +she succeeded, but it remained a matter of speculation how all +the necessary articles which she had to buy for herself, and all +Emily’s various orders, were to come out of her own means, +reduced as they were by former loans.</p> +<p>The next day Lilias was on her way to London; feeling, as she +left Beechcroft, that it was a great relief that the schoolroom +and storeroom could not follow her. She was sorry that she +should miss seeing Alethea Weston, who was to come home the next +day, but she left various messages for her, and an affectionate +note, and had received a promise from her sisters that the copy +of the music should be given to her the first day that they saw +her. Her journey afforded her much amusement, and it was +not till towards the end of the day that she had much time for +thinking, when, her companions being sleepily inclined, she was +left to her own meditations and to a dull country. She +began to revolve her own feelings towards Eleanor, and as she +remembered the contempt and ingratitude she had once expressed, +she shrank from the meeting with shame and dread, and knew that +she should feel reproached by Eleanor’s wonted calmness of +manner. And as she mused upon all that Eleanor had endured, +and all that she had done, such a reverence for suffering and +sacrifice took possession of her mind that she was ready to look +up to her sister with awe. She began to recollect old +reproofs, and found herself sitting more upright, and examining +the sit of the folds of her dress with some uneasiness at the +thought of Eleanor’s preciseness. In the midst of her +meditations her two companions were roused by the slackening +speed of the train, and starting up, informed her that they were +arriving at their journey’s end. The next minute she +heard her father consigning her and the umbrellas to Mr. +Hawkesworth’s care, and all was bewilderment till she found +herself in the hall of her aunt’s house, receiving as warm +and affectionate a greeting from Eleanor as Emily herself could +have bestowed.</p> +<p>‘And the baby, Eleanor?’</p> +<p>‘Asleep, but you shall see him; and how is Ada? and all +of them? why, Claude, how well you look! Papa, let me help +you to take off your greatcoat—you are cold—will you +have a fire?’</p> +<p>Never had Lily heard Eleanor say so much in a breath, or seen +her eye so bright, or her smile so ready, yet, when she entered +the drawing-room, she saw that Mrs. Hawkesworth was still the +Eleanor of old. In contrast with the splendid furniture of +the apartments, a pile of shirts was on the table, +Eleanor’s well-known work-basket on the floor, and the +ceaseless knitting close at hand.</p> +<p>Much news was exchanged in the few minutes that elapsed before +Eleanor carried off her sister to her room, indulging her by the +way with a peep at little Harry, and one kiss to his round red +cheek as he lay asleep in his little bed. It was not +Eleanor’s fault that she did not entirely dress Lily, and +unpack her wardrobe; but Lilias liked to show that she could +manage for herself; and Eleanor’s praise of her neat +arrangements gave her as much pleasure as in days of yore.</p> +<p>The evening passed very happily. Eleanor’s heart +was open, she was full of enjoyment at meeting those she loved, +and the two sisters sat long together in the twilight, talking +over numerous subjects, all ending in Beechcroft or the baby.</p> +<p>Yet when Lily awoke the next morning her awe of Eleanor began +to return, and she felt like a child just returned to +school. She was, however, mistaken; Eleanor assumed no +authority, she treated Lily as her equal, and thus made her feel +more like a woman than she had ever done before. Lily +thought either that Eleanor was much altered, or that in her +folly she must have fancied her far more cold and grave than she +really was. She had, however, no time for studying her +character; shopping and sight-seeing filled up most of her time, +and the remainder was spent in resting, and in playing with +little Henry.</p> +<p>One evening, when Mr. Mohun and Claude were dining out, Lilias +was left alone with Mr. and Mrs. Hawkesworth. Lily was very +tired, but she worked steadily at marking Eleanor’s +pocket-handkerchiefs, until her sister, seeing how weary she was, +made her lie down on the sofa.</p> +<p>‘Here is a gentleman who is tired too,’ said +Eleanor, dancing the baby; ‘we will carry you off, sir, and +leave Aunt Lily to go to sleep.’</p> +<p>‘Aunt Lily is not so tired as that,’ said Lily; +‘pray keep him.’</p> +<p>‘It is quite bedtime,’ said Eleanor, in her +decided tone, and she carried him off.</p> +<p>Lilias took up the knitting which she had laid down, and began +to study the stitches. ‘I should like this feathery +pattern,’ said she, ‘(if it did not remind me so much +of the fever); but, by the bye, Frank, have you completed Master +Henry’s outfit? I looked forward to helping to choose +his pretty little things, but I see no preparation but of +stockings.’</p> +<p>‘Why, Lily, did not you know that he was to stay in +England?’</p> +<p>‘To stay in England? No, I never thought of +that—how sorry you must be.’</p> +<p>At this moment Eleanor returned, and Mr. Hawkesworth told her +he had been surprised to find Lily did not know their intentions +with regard to the baby.</p> +<p>‘If we had any certain intentions we should have told +her,’ said Eleanor; ‘I did not wish to speak to her +about it till we had made up our minds.’</p> +<p>‘Well, I know no use in mysteries,’ said Mr. +Hawkesworth, ‘especially when Lily may help us to +decide.’</p> +<p>‘On his going or staying?’ exclaimed Lily, eagerly +looking to Mr. Hawkesworth, who was evidently more disposed to +speak than his wife.</p> +<p>‘Not on his going or staying—I am sorry to say +that point was settled long ago—but where we shall leave +him.’</p> +<p>Lily’s heart beat high, but she did not speak.</p> +<p>‘The truth is,’ proceeded Mr. Hawkesworth, +‘that this young gentleman has, as perhaps you know, a +grandpapa, a grandmamma, and also six or seven aunts. With +his grandmamma he cannot be left, for sundry reasons, unnecessary +to mention. Now, one of his aunts is a staid matronly lady, +and his godmother besides, and in all respects the person to take +charge of him,—only she lives in a small house in a town, +and has plenty of babies of her own, without being troubled with +other people’s. Master Henry’s other five aunts +live in one great house, in a delightful country, with nothing to +do but make much of him all day long, yet it is averred that +these said aunts are a parcel of giddy young colts, amongst whom, +if Henry escapes being demolished as a baby he will infallibly be +spoilt as he grows up. Now, how are we to +decide?’</p> +<p>‘You have heard the true state of the case, Lily,’ +said Mrs. Hawkesworth. ‘I did not wish to harass papa +by speaking to him till something was settled; you are certainly +old enough to have an opinion.’</p> +<p>‘Yes, Lily,’ said Frank; ‘do you think that +the hospitable New Court will open to receive our poor deserted +child, and that these said aunts are not wild colts but discreet +damsels?’</p> +<p>Playful as Mr. Hawkesworth’s manner was, Lily saw the +earnestness that was veiled under it: she felt the solemnity of +Eleanor’s appeal, and knew that this was no time to let +herself be swayed by her wishes. There was a silence. +At last, after a great struggle, Lily’s better judgment +gained the mastery, and raising her head, she said, +‘Oh! Frank, do not ask me—I wish—but, +Eleanor, when you see how much harm we have done, how utterly we +have failed—’</p> +<p>Lily’s newly-acquired habits of self-command enabled her +to subdue a violent fit of sobbing, which she felt impending, but +her tears flowed quietly down her cheeks.</p> +<p>‘Remember,’ said Frank, ‘those who mistrust +themselves are the most trustworthy.’</p> +<p>‘No, Frank, it is not only the feeling of the greatness +of the charge, it is the knowledge that we are not fit for +it—that our own faults have forfeited such +happiness.’</p> +<p>Again Lily was choked with tears.</p> +<p>‘Well,’ said Frank, ‘we shall judge at +Beechcroft. At all events, one of those aunts is to be +respected.’</p> +<p>Eleanor added her ‘Very right.’</p> +<p>This kindness on the part of her brother-in-law, which Lily +felt to be undeserved, caused her tears to flow faster, and +Eleanor, seeing her quite overcome, led her out of the room, +helped her to undress, and put her to bed, with tenderness such +as Lily had never experienced from her, excepting in illness.</p> +<p>In spite of bitter regrets, when she thought of the happiness +it would have been to keep her little nephew, and of importunate +and disappointing hopes that Mrs. Ridley would find it impossible +to receive him, Lily felt that she had done right, and had made a +real sacrifice for duty’s sake. No more was said on +the subject, and Lily was very grateful to Eleanor for making no +inquiries, which she could not have answered without blaming +Emily.</p> +<p>Sight-seeing prospered very well under Claude’s +guidance, and Lily’s wonder and delight was a constant +source of amusement to her friends. Her shopping was more +of a care than a pleasure, for, in spite of the handsome +equipments which Mr. Mohun presented to all his daughters, it was +impossible to contract Emily’s requirements within the +limits of what ought to be her expenditure, and the different +views of her brother and sister were rather troublesome in this +matter. Claude hated the search for ladies’ finery, +and if drawn into it, insisted on always taking her to the +grandest and most expensive shops; while, on the other hand, +though Eleanor liked to hunt up cheap things and good bargains, +she had such rigid ideas about plainness of dress, that there was +little chance that what she approved would satisfy Emily.</p> +<h2><a name="page235"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +235</span>CHAPTER XXI<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">CHARITY BEGINS AT HOME</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘Suddenly, a mighty jerk<br /> +A mighty mischief did.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">In</span> the meantime Emily and Jane went +on very prosperously at home, looking forward to the return of +the rest of the party on Saturday, the 17th of July. In +this, however, they were doomed to disappointment, for neither +Mr. Mohun nor Mr. Hawkesworth could wind up their affairs so as +to return before the 24th. Maurice’s holidays +commenced on Monday the 19th, and Claude offered to go home on +the same day, and meet him, but in a general council it was +determined to the contrary. Claude was wanted to stay for a +concert on Thursday, and both Mr. Mohun and Eleanor thought +Maurice, without Reginald, would not be formidable for a few +days.</p> +<p>At first he seemed to justify this opinion. He did not +appear to have any peculiar pursuit, unless such might be called +a very earnest attempt to make Phyllis desist from her favourite +preface of ‘I’ll tell you what,’ and to reform +her habit of saying, ‘Please for,’ instead of +‘If you please.’ He walked with the sisters, +carried messages for Mr. Devereux, performed some neat little +bits of carpentry, and was very useful and agreeable.</p> +<p>On Wednesday afternoon Lord Rotherwood and Florence called, +their heads the more full of the 30th because the Marquis had not +once thought of it while Mr. Devereux was ill. Among the +intended diversions fireworks were mentioned, and from that +moment rockets, wheels, and serpents, commenced a wild career +through Maurice’s brain. Through the whole evening he +searched for books on what he was pleased to call the art of +pyrotechnics, studied them all Wednesday, and the next morning +announced his intention of making some fireworks on a new +plan.</p> +<p>‘No, you must not,’ said Emily, ‘you will be +sure to do mischief.’</p> +<p>‘I am going to ask Wat for some powder,’ was +Maurice’s reply, and he walked off.</p> +<p>‘Stop him, Jane, stop him,’ cried Emily. +‘Nothing can be so dangerous. Tell him how angry papa +would be.’</p> +<p>Though Jane highly esteemed her brother’s discretion, +she did not much like the idea of his touching powder, and she +ran after him to suggest that he had better wait till +papa’s return.</p> +<p>‘Then Redgie will be at home,’ said Maurice, +‘and I could not be answerable for the consequence of such +a careless fellow touching powder.’</p> +<p>This great proof of caution quite satisfied Jane, but not so +Wat Greenwood, who proved himself a faithful servant by refusing +to let Master Maurice have one grain of gunpowder without express +leave from the squire. Maurice then had recourse to Jane, +and his power over her was such as to triumph over strong sense +and weak notions of obedience, so that she was prevailed upon to +supply him with the means of making the dangerous and forbidden +purchase.</p> +<p>Emily was both annoyed and alarmed when she found that the +gunpowder was actually in the house, and she even thought of +sending a note to the parsonage to beg Mr. Devereux to speak to +Maurice; but Jane had gone over to the enemy, and Emily never +could do anything unsupported. Besides, she neither liked +to affront Maurice nor to confess herself unable to keep him in +order; and she, therefore, tried to put the whole matter out of +her head, in the thoughts of an expedition to Raynham, which she +was about to make in the manner she best liked, with Jane in the +close carriage, and the horses reluctantly spared from their farm +work.</p> +<p>As they were turning the corner of the lane they overtook +Phyllis and Adeline on their way to the school with some work, +and Emily stopped the carriage, to desire them to send off a +letter which she had left on the chimney-piece in the +schoolroom. Then proceeding to Raynham, they made their +visits, paid Emily’s debts, performed their commissions, +and met the carriage again at the bookseller’s shop, at the +end of about two hours.</p> +<p>‘Look here, Emily!’ exclaimed Jane. +‘Read this! can it be Mrs. Aylmer?’</p> +<p>‘The truly charitable,’ said Emily, +contemptuously. ‘Mrs. Aylmer is +above—’</p> +<p>‘But read. It says “unbeneficed clergyman +and deceased nobleman,” and who can that be but Uncle +Rotherwood and Mr. Aylmer.’</p> +<p>‘Well, let us see,’ said Emily, ‘those +things are always amusing.’</p> +<p>It was an appeal to the ‘truly charitable,’ from +the friends of the widow of an unbeneficed clergyman of the +diocese, one of whose sons had, it was said, by the kindness of a +deceased nobleman, received the promise of an appointment in +India, of which he was unable to avail himself for want of the +funds needful for his outfit. This appeal was, it added, +made without the knowledge of the afflicted lady, but further +particulars might be learnt by application to E. F., No. 5 West +Street, Raynham.</p> +<p>‘E. F. is plainly that bustling, little, old Miss +Fitchett, who wrote to papa for some subscription,’ said +Emily. ‘You know she is a regular beggar, always +doing these kind of things, but I can never believe that Mrs. +Aylmer would consent to appear in this manner.’</p> +<p>‘Ah! but it says without her knowledge,’ said +Jane. ‘Don’t you remember Rotherwood’s +lamenting that they were forgotten?’</p> +<p>‘Yes, it is shocking,’ said Emily; ‘the +clergyman that married papa and mamma!’</p> +<p>‘Ask Mr. Adam what he knows,’ said Jane.</p> +<p>Emily accordingly applied to the bookseller, and learnt that +Mrs. Aylmer was indeed the person intended. +‘Something must be done,’ said she, returning to +Jane. ‘Our name will be a help.’</p> +<p>‘Speak to Aunt Rotherwood,’ said Jane. +‘Or suppose we apply to Miss Fitchett, we should have time +to drive that way.’</p> +<p>‘I am sure I shall not go to Miss Fitchett,’ said +Emily, ‘she only longs for an excuse to visit us. +What can you be thinking of? Lend me your pencil, Jenny, if +you please.’</p> +<p>And Emily wrote down, ‘Miss Mohun, £5,’ and +handed to the bookseller all that she possessed towards paying +her just debts to Lilias. While she was writing, Jane had +turned towards the window, and suddenly exclaiming, ‘There +is Ben! Oh! that gunpowder!’ darted out of the +shop. She had seen the groom on horseback, and the next +moment she was asking breathlessly, ‘Is it +Maurice?’</p> +<p>‘No, Miss Jane; but Miss Ada is badly burnt, and Master +Maurice sent me to fetch Mr. Saunders.’</p> +<p>‘How did it happen?’</p> +<p>‘I can’t say, Miss; the schoolroom has been on +fire, and Master Maurice said the young ladies had got at the +gunpowder.’</p> +<p>Emily had just arrived at the door, looking dreadfully pale, +and followed by numerous kind offers of salts and glasses of +water; but Jane, perceiving that at least she had strength to get +into the carriage, refused them all, helped her in, and with +instant decision, desired to be driven to the +surgeon’s. Emily obeyed like a child, and threw +herself back in the carriage without a word; Jane trembled like +an aspen leaf; but her higher spirit took the lead, and very +sensibly she managed, stopping at Mr. Saunders’s door to +offer to take him to Beechcroft, and getting a glass of +sal-volatile for Emily while they were waiting for him. His +presence was a great relief, for Emily’s natural courtesy +made her exert herself, and thus warded off much that would have +been very distressing.</p> +<p>In the meantime we will return to Beechcroft, where +Emily’s request respecting her letter had occasioned some +discussion between the little girls, as they returned from a walk +with Marianne. Phyllis thought that Emily meant them to +wafer the letter, since they were under strict orders never to +touch fire or candle; but Ada argued that they were to seal it, +and that permission to light a candle was implied in the +order. At last, Phyllis hoped the matter might be settled +by asking Maurice to seal the letter, and meeting him at the +front door, she began, in fortunately, with ‘Please, +Maurice—’</p> +<p>‘I never listen to anything beginning with +please,’ said Maurice, who was in a great hurry, +‘only don’t touch my powder.’</p> +<p>Away he went, deaf to all his sister’s shouts of +‘Maurice, Maurice,’ and they went in, Ada not sorry +to be unheard, as she was bent on the grand exploit of lighting a +lucifer match, but Phyllis still pleading for the wafer. +They found the schoolroom strewed with Maurice’s +preparations for fireworks, and Emily’s letter on the +chimney-piece.</p> +<p>‘Let us take the letter downstairs, and put on a +wafer,’ said Phyllis. ‘Won’t you come, +Ada?’</p> +<p>‘No, the stamps are here, and so are the matches, I can +do it easily.’</p> +<p>‘But Ada, Ada, it would be naughty. Only wait, and +I will show you such a pretty wafer that I know of in the +drawing-room. I will run and fetch it.’</p> +<p>Phyllis went, and Ada stood a few moments in doubt, looking at +the letter. The recollection of duty was not strong enough +to balance the temptation, and she took up a match and drew it +along the sandpaper. It did not light—a second pull, +and the flame appeared more suddenly than she had expected, while +at the same moment the lock of the door turned, and fancying it +was Maurice, she started, and dropped the match. Phyllis +opened the door, heard a loud explosion and a scream, saw a +bright flash and a cloud of smoke. She started back, but +the next moment again opened the door, and ran forward. +Hannah rushed in at the same time, and caught up Ada, who had +fallen to the ground. A light in the midst of the smoke +made Phyllis turn, and she beheld the papers on the table on +fire. Maurice’s powder-horn was in the midst, but the +flames had not yet reached it, and, mindful of Claude’s +story, she sprung forward, caught it up, and dashed it through +the window; she felt the glow of the fire upon her cheek, and +stood still as if stunned, till Hannah carried Ada out of the +room, and screamed to her to come away, and call Joseph. +The table was now one sheet of flame, and Phyllis flew to the +pantry, where she gave the summons in almost inaudible +tones. The servants hurried to the spot, and she was left +alone and bewildered; she ran hither and thither in confusion, +till she met Hannah, eagerly asking for Master Maurice, and +saying that the surgeon must be instantly sent for, as +Ada’s face and neck were badly burnt. Phyllis ran +down, calling Maurice, and at length met him at the front door, +looking much frightened, and asking for Ada.</p> +<p>‘Oh! Maurice, her face and neck are burnt, and +badly. She does scream?’</p> +<p>‘Did I not tell you not to meddle with the +powder?’ said Maurice.</p> +<p>‘Indeed, I could not help it,’ said Phyllis.</p> +<p>‘Stuff and nonsense! It is very well that you have +not killed Ada, and I think that would have made you +sorry.’</p> +<p>Phyllis with difficulty mentioned Hannah’s desire that a +surgeon should be sent for: Maurice went to look for Ben, and she +followed him. Then he began asking how she had done the +mischief.</p> +<p>‘I do not know,’ said she, ‘I do not much +think I did it.’</p> +<p>‘Mind, you can’t humbug me. Did you not say +that you touched the powder?’</p> +<p>‘Yes, but—’</p> +<p>‘No buts,’ said Maurice, making the most of his +brief authority. ‘I hate false excuses. What +were you doing when it exploded?’</p> +<p>‘Coming into the room.’</p> +<p>‘Oh! that accounts for it,’ said Maurice, +‘the slightest vibration causes an explosion of that sort +of rocket, and of course it was your bouncing into the +room! You have had a lesson against rushing about the +house. Come, though, cheer up, Phyl, it is a bad business, +but it might have been worse; you will know better next +time. Don’t cry, Phyl, I will explain to you all +about the patent rocket.’</p> +<p>‘But do you really think that I blew up Ada?’</p> +<p>‘Blew up Ada! caused the powder to ignite. The +inflammable matter—’</p> +<p>As he spoke he followed Phyllis to the nursery, and there was +so much shocked, that he could no longer lord it over her, but +shrinking back, shut himself up in his room, and bolted the +door.</p> +<p>Nearly an hour passed away before the arrival of Emily, Jane, +and Mr. Saunders. Phyllis ran down, and meeting them at the +door, exclaimed, ‘Oh! Emily, poor Ada! I am so +sorry.’</p> +<p>The sisters hurried past her to the nursery, where Ada was +lying on the bed, half undressed, and her face, neck, and arm +such a spectacle that Emily turned away, ready to faint. +Mr. Saunders was summoned, and Phyllis thrust out of the +room. She sat down on the step of the stairs, resting her +forehead on her knees, and trembling, listened to the sounds of +voices, and the screams which now and then reached her +ears. After a time she was startled by hearing herself +called from the stairs <i>by below</i> a voice which she had not +heard for many weeks, and springing up, saw Mr. Devereux leaning +on the banisters. The great change in his appearance +frightened her almost as much as the accident itself, and she +stood looking at him without speaking. +‘Phyllis,’ said he, in a voice hoarse with agitation, +‘what is it? tell me at once.’</p> +<p>She could not speak, and her wild and frightened air might +well give him great alarm. She pointed to the nursery, and +put her finger to her lips, and he, beckoning to her to follow +him, went downstairs, and turning into the drawing-room, said, as +he sank down upon the sofa, ‘Now, Phyllis, what has +happened?’</p> +<p>‘The gunpowder—I made it go off, and it has burnt +poor Ada’s face! Mr. Saunders is there, and she +screams—’</p> +<p>Phyllis finding herself ready to roar, left off speaking, and +laying her head on the table, burst into an agony of crying, +while Mr. Devereux was too much exhausted to address her; at last +she exclaimed: ‘I hear the nursery door; he is +going!’</p> +<p>She flew to the door, and listened, and then called out, +‘Emily, Jane, here is Cousin Robert!’</p> +<p>Jane came down, leaving Emily to finish hearing Mr. +Saunders’s directions. She was even more shocked at +her cousin’s looks than Phyllis had been, and though she +tried to speak cheerfully, her manner scarcely agreed with her +words. ‘It is all well, Robert, I am sorry you have +been so frightened. It is but a slight affair, though it +looks so shocking. There is no danger. But, oh, +Robert! you ought not to be here. What shall we do for you? +you are quite knocked up.’</p> +<p>‘Oh! no,’ said Mr. Devereux, ‘I am only a +little out of breath. A terrible report came to me, and I +set off to learn the truth. I should like to hear what Mr. +Saunders says of her.’</p> +<p>‘I will call him in here before he goes,’ said +Jane; ‘how tired you are; you have not been out +before.’</p> +<p>‘Only to the gate to speak to Rotherwood yesterday, and +prevent him from coming in,’ said Mr. Devereux, ‘but +I have great designs for Sunday. They come home to-morrow, +do not they?’</p> +<p>Jane was much relieved by hearing her cousin talk in this +manner, and answered, ‘Yes, and a dismal coming home it +will be; it is too late to let them know.’</p> +<p>Mr. Saunders now entered, and gave a very favourable account +of the patient, saying that even the scars would probably +disappear in a few weeks. His gig had come from Raynham, +and he offered to set Mr. Devereux down at the parsonage, a +proposal which the latter was very glad to accept. Emily +and Jane had leisure, when they were gone, to inquire into the +manner of the accident. Phyllis answered that Maurice said +that her banging the door had made the powder go off. Jane +then asked where Maurice was, and Phyllis reporting that he was +in his own room, she repaired thither, and knocked twice without +receiving an answer. On her call, however, he opened the +door; she saw that he had been in tears, and hastened to tell him +Mr. Saunders’s opinion. He fastened the door again as +soon as she had entered. ‘If I could have thought +it!’ sighed he. ‘Fool that I was, not to lock +the door!’</p> +<p>‘Then you were not there? Phyllis says that she +did it by banging the door. Is not that +nonsense?’</p> +<p>‘Not at all. Did I not read to you in the <i>Year +Book of Facts</i> about the patent signal rockets, which explode +with the least vibration, even when a carriage goes by? +Now, mine was on the same principle. I was making an +experiment on the ingredients; I did not expect to succeed the +first time, and so I took no precautions. Well! +Pyrotechnics are a dangerous science! Next time I study +them it shall be at the workshop at the Old Court.’</p> +<p>Maurice was sincerely sorry for the consequence of his +disobedience, and would have been much to be pitied had it not +been for his secret satisfaction in the success of his art. +He called his sister into the schoolroom to explain how it +happened. The room was a dismal sight, blackened with +smoke, and flooded with water, the table and part of the floor +charred, a mass of burnt paper in the midst, and a stifling smell +of fire. A pane of glass was shattered, and Maurice ran +down to the lawn to see if he could find anything there to +account for it. The next moment he returned, the +powder-horn in his hand. ‘See, Jenny, how fortunate +that this was driven through the window with the force of the +explosion. The whole place might have been blown to atoms +with such a quantity as this.’</p> +<p>‘Then what was it that blew up?’ asked Jane.</p> +<p>‘What I had put out for my rocket, about two +ounces. If this half-pound had gone there is no saying what +might have happened.’</p> +<p>‘Now, Maurice,’ said Jane, ‘I must go back +to Ada, and will you run down to the parsonage with a parcel, +directed to Robert, that you will find in the hall?’</p> +<p>This was a device to occupy Maurice, who, as Jane saw, was so +restless and unhappy that she did not like to leave him, much as +she was wanted elsewhere. He went, but afraid to see his +cousin, only left the parcel at the door. As he was going +back he heard a shout, and looking round saw Lord Rotherwood +mounted on Cedric, his most spirited horse, galloping up the +lane. ‘Maurice!’ cried he, ‘what is all +this? they say the New Court is blown up, and you and half the +girls killed, but I hope one part is as true as the +other.’</p> +<p>‘Nobody is hurt but Ada,’ said Maurice, ‘but +her face is a good deal burnt.’</p> +<p>‘Eh? then she won’t be fit for the 30th, poor +child! tell me how it was, make haste. I heard it from Mr. +Burnet as I came down to dinner. We have a dozen people at +dinner. I told him not to mention it to my mother, and rode +off to hear the truth. Make haste, half the people were +come when I set off.’</p> +<p>The horse’s caperings so discomposed Maurice that he +could scarcely collect his wits enough to answer: ‘Some +signal rocket on a new principle—detonating powder, +composed of oxymuriate—Oh! Rotherwood, take +care!’</p> +<p>‘Speak sense, and go on.’</p> +<p>‘Then Phyllis came in, banged the door, and the +vibration caused the explosion,’ said Maurice, scared into +finishing promptly.</p> +<p>‘Eh! banging the door? You had better not tell +that story at school.’</p> +<p>‘But, Rotherwood, the deton—Oh! that +horse—you will be off!’</p> +<p>‘Not half so dangerous as patent rockets. Is Emily +satisfied with such stuff?’</p> +<p>‘Don’t you know that fulminating +silver—’</p> +<p>‘What does Robert Devereux say?’</p> +<p>‘Really, Rotherwood, I could show you—’</p> +<p>‘Show me? No; if rockets are so perilous I shall +have nothing to do with them. Stand still, Cedric! +Just tell me about Ada. Is there much harm done?’</p> +<p>‘Her face is scorched a good deal, but they say it will +soon be right.’</p> +<p>‘I am glad—we will send to inquire to-morrow, but +I cannot come—ha, ha! a new infernal machine. +Good-bye, Friar Bacon.’</p> +<p>Away he went, and Maurice stood looking after him with +complacent disdain. ‘There they go, Cedric and +Rotherwood, equally well provided with brains! What is the +use of talking science to either?’</p> +<p>It was late when he reached the house, and his two sisters +shortly came down to tea, with news that Adeline was asleep and +Phyllis was going to bed. The accident was again talked +over.</p> +<p>‘Well,’ said Emily, ‘I do not understand it, +but I suppose papa will.’</p> +<p>‘The telling papa is a bad part of the affair, with +William and Eleanor there too,’ said Jane.</p> +<p>‘I do not mean to speak to Phyllis about it +again,’ said Emily, ‘it makes her cry so +terribly.’</p> +<p>‘It will come out fast enough,’ sighed +Maurice. ‘Good-night.’</p> +<p>More than once in the course of the night did poor Phyllis +wake and cry, and the next day was the most wretched she had ever +spent; she was not allowed to stay in the nursery, and the +schoolroom was uninhabitable, so she wandered listlessly about +the garden, sometimes creeping down to the churchyard, where she +looked up at the old tower, or pondered over the graves, and +sometimes forgetting her troubles in converse with the dogs, in +counting the rings in the inside of a foxglove flower, or in +rescuing tadpoles stranded on the broad leaf of a water-lily.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/p247b.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Rescuing tadpoles stranded on the broad leaf of a +water-lily.—p. 247" +title= +"Rescuing tadpoles stranded on the broad leaf of a +water-lily.—p. 247" + src="images/p247s.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>Her sisters and brothers were not less forlorn. Emily +sighed and lamented; Adeline was feverish and petulant; and Jane +toiled in vain to please and soothe both, and to comfort Maurice; +but with all her good-temper and good-nature she had not the +spirit which alone could enable her to be a comfort to any +one. Ada whined, fretted, and was disobedient, and from +Maurice she met with nothing but rebuffs; he was silent and +sullen, and spent most of the day in the workshop, slowly planing +scraps of deal board, and watching with a careless eye the curled +shavings float to the ground.</p> +<p>In the course of the afternoon Alethea and Marianne came to +inquire after the patient. Jane came down to them and +talked very fast, but when they asked for a further explanation +of the cause of the accident, Jane declared that Maurice said it +was impossible that any one who did not understand chemistry +should know how it happened, and Alethea went away strongly +reminded that it was no affair of hers.</p> +<p>Notes passed between the New Court and the vicarage, but Mr. +Devereux was feeling the effect of his yesterday’s exertion +too much to repeat it, and no persuasion of the sisters could +induce Maurice to visit him.</p> +<h2><a name="page249"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +249</span>CHAPTER XXII<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE BARONIAL COURT</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘Still in his eyes his soul revealing,<br /> +He dreams not, knows not of concealing,<br /> +Does all he does with single mind,<br /> +And thinks of others that are kind.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> travellers were expected to +arrive at about seven o’clock in the evening, and in +accordance with a well-known taste of Eleanor’s, Emily had +ordered no dinner, but a substantial meal under the name of +tea. When the sound of carriage wheels was heard, Jane was +with Adeline, Maurice was in his retreat at the Old Court, and it +was with no cheerful alacrity that Emily went alone into the +hall. Phyllis was already at the front door, and the +instant Mr. Mohun set foot on the threshold, her hand grasped his +coat, and her shrill voice cried in his ear, ‘Papa, I am +very sorry I blew up the gunpowder and burnt Ada.’</p> +<p>‘What, my dear? where is Ada?’</p> +<p>‘In bed. I blew up the gunpowder and burnt her +face,’ repeated Phyllis.</p> +<p>‘We have had an accident,’ said Emily, ‘but +I hope it is nothing very serious, only poor Ada is a sad +figure.’</p> +<p>In another moment Mr. Mohun and Eleanor were on the way to the +nursery; Lilias was following, but she recollected that a general +rush into a sickroom was not desirable, and therefore paused and +came back to the hall. The worst was over with Phyllis when +the confession had been made. She was in raptures at the +sight of the baby, and was presently showing the nurse the way +upstairs, but her brother William called her back: +‘Phyllis, you have not spoken to any one.’</p> +<p>Phyllis turned, and came down slowly in her most ungainly +manner, believing herself in too great disgrace to be noticed by +anybody, and she was quite surprised and comforted to be greeted +by her brothers and Lily just as usual.</p> +<p>‘And how did you meet with this misfortune?’ asked +Mr. Hawkesworth.</p> +<p>‘I banged the door, and made it go off,’ said +Phyllis.</p> +<p>‘What can you mean?’ said William, in a tone of +surprise, which Phyllis took for anger, and she hid her face to +stifle her sobs.</p> +<p>‘No, no, do not frighten her,’ said Claude’s +kind voice.</p> +<p>‘Run and make friends with your nephew, Phyllis,’ +said Mr. Hawkesworth; ‘do not greet us with +crying.’</p> +<p>‘First tell me what is become of Maurice,’ said +Claude, ‘is he blown up too?’</p> +<p>‘No, he is at the Old Court,’ said Phyllis. +‘Shall I tell him that you are come?’</p> +<p>‘I will look for him,’ said Claude, and out he +went.</p> +<p>The others dispersed in different directions, and did not +assemble again for nearly half an hour, when they all met in the +drawing-room to drink tea; Claude and Maurice were the last to +appear, and, on entering, the first thing the former said was, +‘Where is Phyllis?’</p> +<p>‘In the nursery,’ said Jane; ‘she has had +her supper, and chooses to stay with Ada.’</p> +<p>‘Has any one found out the history of the +accident?’ said William.</p> +<p>‘I have vainly been trying to make sense of +Maurice’s account,’ said Claude.</p> +<p>‘Sense!’ said William, ‘there is +none.’</p> +<p>‘I am perfectly bewildered,’ said Lily; +‘every one has a different story, only consenting in making +Phyllis the victim.’</p> +<p>‘And,’ added Claude, ‘I strongly suspect she +is not in fault.’</p> +<p>‘Why should you doubt what she says herself?’ said +Eleanor.</p> +<p>‘What does she say herself?’ said William, +‘nothing but that she shut the door, and what does that +amount to?—Nothing.’</p> +<p>‘She says she touched the powder,’ interposed +Jane.</p> +<p>‘That is another matter,’ said William; ‘no +one told me of her touching the powder. But why do you not +ask her? She is publicly condemned without a +hearing.’</p> +<p>‘Who accuses her?’ said Mr. Mohun.</p> +<p>‘I can hardly tell,’ said Emily; ‘she met +us, saying she was very sorry. Yes, she accuses +herself. Every one has believed it to be her.’</p> +<p>‘And why?’</p> +<p>There was a pause, but at last Emily said, ‘How would +you account for it otherwise?’</p> +<p>‘I have not yet heard the circumstances. Maurice, +I wish to hear your account. I will not now ask how you +procured the powder. Whoever was the immediate cause of the +accident, you are chiefly to blame. Where was the +powder?’</p> +<p>Maurice gave his theory and his facts, ending with the +powder-horn being driven out of the window upon the green.</p> +<p>‘I hear,’ said Mr. Mohun. ‘But, +Maurice, did you not say that Phyllis touched the powder? +How do you reconcile that with this incomprehensible +statement?’</p> +<p>‘She might have done that before,’ said +Maurice.</p> +<p>‘Now call Phyllis,’ said his father.</p> +<p>‘Is it not very formidable for her to be examined before +such an assembly?’ said Emily.</p> +<p>‘The accusation has been public, and the investigation +shall be the same,’ said Mr. Mohun.</p> +<p>‘Then you do not think she did it, papa?’ cried +Lily.</p> +<p>‘Not by shutting the door,’ said William.</p> +<p>Phyllis entered, and Mr. Mohun, holding out both hands to her, +drew her towards him, and placing her with her back to the +others, still retained her hands, while he said, ‘Phyllis, +do not be frightened, but tell me where you were when the powder +exploded?’</p> +<p>‘Coming into the room,’ said Phyllis, in a +trembling voice.</p> +<p>‘Where had you been?’</p> +<p>‘Fetching a wafer out of the drawing-room.’</p> +<p>‘What was the wafer for?’</p> +<p>‘To put on Emily’s letter, which she told us to +send.’</p> +<p>‘And where was Ada?’</p> +<p>‘In the schoolroom, reading the direction of the +letter.’</p> +<p>‘Tell me exactly what happened when you came +back.’</p> +<p>‘I opened the door, and there was a flash, and a bang, +and a smoke, and Ada tumbled down.’</p> +<p>‘I have one more question to ask. When did you +touch the powder?’</p> +<p>‘Then,’ said Phyllis.</p> +<p>‘When it had exploded? Take care what you +say.’</p> +<p>‘Was it naughty? I am very sorry,’ said +Phyllis, beginning to cry.</p> +<p>‘What powder did you touch? I do not understand +you, tell me quietly.’</p> +<p>‘I touched the powder-horn. What went off was only +a little in a paper on the table, and there was a great deal +more. When the rocket blew up there was a great noise, and +Ada and I both screamed, and Hannah ran in and took up Ada in her +arms. Then I saw a great fire, and looked, and saw +Emily’s music-book, and all the papers blazing. So I +thought if it got to the powder it would blow up again, and I +laid hold of the horn and threw it out of the window. That +is all I know, papa, only I hope you are not very angry with +me.’</p> +<p>She looked into his face, not knowing how to interpret the +unusual expression she saw there.</p> +<p>‘Angry with you!’ said he. ‘No, my +dear child, you have acted with great presence of mind. You +have saved your sister and Hannah from great danger, and I am +very sorry that you have been unjustly treated.’</p> +<p>He then gave his little daughter a kiss, and putting his hand +on her head, added, ‘Whoever caused the explosion, Phyllis +is quite free from blame, and I wish every one to understand +this, because she has been unjustly accused, without examination, +and because she has borne it patiently, and without attempting to +justify herself.’</p> +<p>‘Very right,’ observed Eleanor.</p> +<p>‘Shake hands, Phyllis,’ said William.</p> +<p>The others said more with their eyes than with their +lips. Phyllis stood like one in a dream, and fixing her +bewildered looks upon Claude, said, ‘Did not I do +it?’</p> +<p>‘No, Phyllis, you had nothing to do with it,’ was +the general exclamation.</p> +<p>‘Maurice said it was the door,’ said Phyllis.</p> +<p>‘Maurice talked nonsense,’ said Claude; ‘you +were only foolish in believing him.’</p> +<p>Phyllis went up to Claude, and laid her head on his arm; Mr. +Hawkesworth held out his hand to her, but she did not look up, +and Claude withdrawing his arm, and raising her head, found that +she was crying. Eleanor and Lilias both rose, and came +towards her but Claude made them a sign, and led her away.</p> +<p>‘What a fine story this will be for Reginald,’ +said William.</p> +<p>‘And for Rotherwood,’ said Mr. Mohun.</p> +<p>‘I do not see how it happened,’ said Eleanor.</p> +<p>‘Of course Ada did it herself,’ said William.</p> +<p>‘Of course,’ said Maurice. ‘It was all +from Emily’s setting them to seal her letter, that is plain +now.’</p> +<p>‘Would not Ada have said so?’ asked Eleanor.</p> +<p>Lily sighed at the thought of what Eleanor had yet to +learn.</p> +<p>‘Did you tell them to seal your letter, Emily?’ +said Mr. Mohun.</p> +<p>‘I am sorry to say that I did tell them to send +it,’ said Emily, ‘but I said nothing about sealing, +as Jane remembers, and I forgot that Maurice’s gunpowder +was in the room.’</p> +<p>Eleanor shook her head sorrowfully, and looked down at her +knitting, and Lily knew that her mind was made up respecting +little Henry’s dwelling-place.</p> +<p>It was some comfort to have raised no false expectations.</p> +<p>‘Ada must not be frightened and agitated +to-night,’ said Mr. Mohun, ‘but I hope you will talk +to her to-morrow, Eleanor. Well, Claude, have you made +Phyllis understand that she is acquitted?’</p> +<p>‘Scarcely,’ said Claude; ‘she is so overcome +and worn out, that I thought she had better go to bed, and wake +in her proper senses to-morrow.’</p> +<p>‘A very unconscious heroine,’ said William. +‘She is a wonder—I never thought her anything but an +honest sort of romp.’</p> +<p>‘I have long thought her a wonderful specimen of +obedience,’ said Mr. Mohun.</p> +<p>William and Claude now walked to the parsonage, and the +council broke up; but it must not be supposed that this was the +last that Emily and Maurice heard on the subject.</p> +<h2><a name="page256"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +256</span>CHAPTER XXIII<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">JOYS AND SORROWS</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘Complaint was heard on every part<br /> +Of something disarranged.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> next day, Sunday, was one of +the most marked in Lily’s life. It was the first time +she saw Mr. Devereux after his illness, and though Claude had +told her he was going to church, it gave her a sudden thrill of +joy to see him there once more, and perhaps she never felt more +thankful than when his name was read before the +Thanksgiving. After the service there was an exchange of +greetings, but Lily spoke no word, she felt too happy and too +awe-struck to say anything, and she walked back to the New Court +in silence.</p> +<p>In the afternoon she had hopes that a blessing would be +granted to her, for which at one time she had scarcely dared to +hope; and she felt convinced that so it would be when she saw +that Mr. Devereux wore his surplice, although, as in the morning, +his friend read the service. After the Second Lesson there +was a pause, and then Mr. Devereux left the chair by the altar, +walked along the aisle, and took his stand on the step of the +font. Lily’s heart beat high as she saw who were +gathering round him—Mrs. Eden, Andrew Grey, James +Harrington, and Mrs. Naylor, who held in her arms a healthy, +rosy-checked boy of a year old.</p> +<p>She could not have described the feelings which made her eyes +overflow with tears, as she saw Mr. Devereux’s thin hand +sprinkle the drops over the brow of the child, and heard him say, +‘Robert, I baptize thee’—words which she had +heard in dreams, and then awakened to remember that the parish +was at enmity with the pastor, the child unbaptized, and herself, +in part, the cause.</p> +<p>The name of the little boy was an additional pledge of +reconciliation, and at the same time it made her feel again what +had been the price of his baptism. When she looked back +upon the dreary feelings which she had so lately experienced, it +seemed to her as if she might believe that this christening was, +as it were, a pledge of pardon, and an earnest of better +things.</p> +<p>Naylor, who had recovered much more slowly than Mr. Devereux, +was at church for the first time, and after the service Mr. Mohun +sought him out in the churchyard, and heartily shook hands with +him. Lily would gladly have followed his example, but she +only stood by Eleanor and Mrs. Weston, who were speaking to Mrs. +Eden and Mrs. Naylor, admiring the little boy, and praising him +for his good behaviour in church.</p> +<p>Love of babies was a strong bond between Mrs. Weston and Mrs. +Hawkesworth, who seemed to become well acquainted from the first +moment that little Henry was mentioned; and Lily was well pleased +to see that in Jane’s phrase Eleanor ‘took to her +friends so well.’</p> +<p>And yet this day brought with it some annoyances, which once +would have fretted her so much as to interfere even with such joy +as she now felt. The song, with which she had taken so much +pains, ought to have been sent home a week before, but owing to +the delay caused by Emily’s carelessness, it had been burnt +in the fire in the schoolroom, and Lily could not feel herself +forgiven till she had talked the disaster over in private with +her friend, and this was out of her power throughout the day, for +something always prevented her from getting Alethea alone. +In the morning Jane stuck close to her, and in the afternoon +William walked to the school gate with them. But +Alethea’s manner was kinder towards her than ever, and she +was quite satisfied about her.</p> +<p>It gave her more pain to perceive that Emily in every possible +manner avoided being alone with her. It was by her desire +that Phyllis came to sleep in their room; she would keep Jane +talking there, give Esther some employment which kept her in +their presence, linger in the drawing-room while Lilias was +dressing, and at bedtime be too sleepy to say anything but +good-night.</p> +<p>That Sunday was a sorrowful one to Eleanor; for in the course +of the conversation with Ada, which Mr. Mohun had desired her to +hold, she became conscious of the little girl’s +double-dealing ways. It was only by a very close +cross-examination that she was able to extract from her a true +account of the disaster, and though Ada never went so far as +actually to tell a falsehood, it was evident that she was willing +to conceal as much as possible, and to throw the blame on other +people. And when the real facts were confessed she did not +seem able to comprehend why she was regarded with displeasure; +her instinct of truth and obedience was lost for the time, and +Eleanor saw it with the utmost pain. Adeline had been her +especial darling, and cold as her manner had often been towards +the others, it ever was warm towards the motherless little one, +whom she had tended and cherished with most anxious care from her +earliest infancy. She had left her gentle, candid, and +affectionate; a loving, engaging, little creature, and how did +she find her now? Her fair bright face disfigured, her +caresses affected, her mind turned to deceit and +prevarication! Well might Eleanor feel it more than ever +painful to leave her own little Henry to the care of others; and +well it was for her that she had learned to find comfort in the +consciousness that her duty was clear.</p> +<p>The next morning Emily learned what was Henry’s +destination.</p> +<p>‘Oh! Eleanor,’ said she, ‘why do you not +leave him here? We should be so rejoiced to have +him.’</p> +<p>‘Thank you, I am afraid it is out of the +question,’ answered Eleanor, quietly.</p> +<p>‘Why, dear Eleanor? You know how glad we should +be. I should have thought,’ proceeded Emily, a little +hurt, ‘that you would have wished him to live in your own +home.’</p> +<p>Eleanor did not speak, and Emily, who had the little boy in +her arms, went on talking to him: ‘Come, baby, let us +persuade mamma to let you stay with Aunt Emily. Ask papa, +Henry, won’t you? Seriously, Eleanor, has Frank +considered how much better it would be to have him in the +country?’</p> +<p>‘He has, Emily; he once wished much to leave him +here.’</p> +<p>‘I am sure grandpapa would like it,’ said +Emily. ‘Do you observe, Eleanor, how fond he is of +baby, always calling him Harry too, as if he liked the sound of +the name?’</p> +<p>‘It has all been talked over, Emily, and it cannot +be.’</p> +<p>‘With papa?’ asked Emily in surprise.</p> +<p>‘No, with Lily.’</p> +<p>‘With Lily!’ exclaimed Emily. ‘Did not +Aunt Lily wish to keep you, Harry? I thought she was very +fond of you.’</p> +<p>‘You had better inquire no further,’ said Eleanor, +‘except of your own conscience.’</p> +<p>‘Did Lily think us unfit to take care of him?’ +asked Emily, in surprise.</p> +<p>As she spoke Lily herself came in, the key of the storeroom in +her hand, and looks of consternation on her face. She came +to announce a terrible deficiency in the preserved quinces, which +she herself had carefully put aside on a shelf in the storeroom, +and which Emily said she had not touched in her absence.</p> +<p>‘Let me see,’ said Eleanor, rising, and setting +off to the storeroom; Emily and Lily followed, with a sad +suspicion of the truth. On the way they looked into the +nursery, to give little Henry to his nurse, and to ask Jane, who +was sitting with Ada, what she remembered about it. Jane +knew nothing, and they went on to the storeroom, where Eleanor, +quite in her element, began rummaging, arranging, and sighing +over the confusion, while Lily lent a helping hand, and Emily +stood by, wishing that her sister would not trouble +herself. Presently Jane came running up with a saucer in +her hand, containing a quarter of a quince and some syrup, which +she said she had found in the nursery cupboard, in searching for +a puzzle which Ada wanted.</p> +<p>‘And,’ said Jane, ‘I should guess that Miss +Ada herself knew something about it, for when I could not find +the puzzle in the right-hand cupboard, she was so very unwilling +that I should look into that one; she said there was nothing +there but the boys’ old playthings and Esther’s +clothes. And I do not know whether you saw how she fidgeted +when you were talking about the quinces, before you went +up.’</p> +<p>‘It is much too plain,’ sighed Lily. +‘Oh! Rachel, why did we not listen to you?’</p> +<p>‘Do you suppose,’ said Eleanor, ‘that Ada +has been in the habit of taking the key and helping +herself?’</p> +<p>‘No,’ said Emily, ‘but that Esther has +helped her.’</p> +<p>‘Ah!’ said Eleanor, ‘I never thought it wise +to take her, but how could she get the key? You do not mean +that you trusted it out of your own keeping.’</p> +<p>‘It began while we were ill,’ faltered Emily, +‘and afterwards it was difficult to bring matters into +their former order.’</p> +<p>‘But oh, Eleanor, what is to be done?’ sighed +Lily.</p> +<p>‘Speak to papa, of course,’ said Eleanor. +‘He is gone to the castle, and in the meantime we had +better take an exact account of everything here.’</p> +<p>‘And Esther? And Ada?’ inquired the +sisters.</p> +<p>‘I think it will be better to speak to him before making +so grave an accusation,’ said Eleanor.</p> +<p>They now commenced that wearisome occupation—a complete +setting-to-rights; Eleanor counted, weighed, and measured, and +extended her cares from the stores to every other household +matter. Emily made her escape, and went to sit with Ada; +but Lily and Jane toiled for several hours with Eleanor, till +Lily was so heated and wearied that she was obliged to give up a +walk to Broomhill, and spend another day without a talk with +Alethea. However, she was so patient, ready, and +good-humoured, that Eleanor was well pleased with her. She +could hardly think of the slight vexation, when her mind was full +of sorrow and shame on Esther’s account. It was she +who, contrary to the advice of her elders, had insisted on +bringing her into the house; she had allowed temptation to be set +in her way, and had not taken sufficient pains to strengthen her +principles; and how could she do otherwise than feel guilty of +all Esther’s faults, and of those into which she had led +Adeline?</p> +<p>On Mr. Mohun’s return Ada was interrogated. She +pitied herself—said she did not think papa would be +angry—prevaricated—and tried to coax away his +inquiries, but all in vain; and at length, by slow degrees, the +confession was drawn from her that she had been used to asking +Esther for morsels of sweet things when she was sent to the +storeroom; that afterwards she had seen her packing up some tea +and sugar to take to her mother, and that Esther on that +occasion, and several others, purchased her silence by giving her +a share of pilfered sweetmeats. Telling her that he only +spared her a very severe punishment for the present, on account +of her illness, Mr. Mohun left her, and on his way downstairs met +Phyllis.</p> +<p>‘Phyl,’ said he, ‘did Esther ever give you +sweet things out of the storeroom?’</p> +<p>‘Once, papa, when she had been putting out some currant +jam, she offered me what had been left in the spoon.’</p> +<p>‘Did you take it?’</p> +<p>‘No, papa, for Eleanor used to say it was a bad trick to +lick out spoons.’</p> +<p>‘Did you ever know that she took tea and sugar from the +storeroom, for her mother?’</p> +<p>‘Took home tea and sugar to her mother! She could +not have done it, papa. It would be stealing!’</p> +<p>Esther, who was next called for, cried a great deal, and +begged for pardon, pleading again and again that—</p> +<p>‘It was mother,’ an answer which made her young +mistresses again sigh over the remembrance of Rachel’s +disregarded advice. Her fate was left for consideration and +consultation with Mr. Devereux, for Mr. Mohun, seeing himself to +blame for having allowed her to be placed in a situation of so +much trial, and thinking that there was much that was good about +her, did not like to send her to her home, where she was likely +to learn nothing but what was bad.</p> +<h2><a name="page264"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +264</span>CHAPTER XXIV<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">LOVE’S LABOUR LOST</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘And well, with ready hand and heart,<br /> + Each task of toilsome duty taking,<br /> +Did one dear inmate take her part,<br /> + The last asleep, the earliest waking.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">In</span> the course of the afternoon Lord +Rotherwood and Florence called, to see Eleanor, inquire after +Ada, and make the final arrangements for going to a morning +concert at Raynham the next day. Lady Rotherwood was afraid +of the fatigue, and Florence therefore wished to accompany her +cousins, who, as Eleanor meant to stay at home, were to be under +Mrs. Weston’s protection. Lady Florence and her +brother, therefore, agreed to ride home by Broomhill, and mention +the plan to Mrs. Weston, and took their leave, appointing +Adam’s shop as the place of rendezvous.</p> +<p>Next morning Emily, Lilias, and Jane happened to be together +in the drawing-room, when Mr. Mohun and Claude came in, the +former saying to Lily, ‘Here is the mason’s account +for the gravestone which you wished to have put up to Agnes Eden; +it comes to two pounds. You undertook half the expense, and +as Claude is going to Raynham, he will pay for it if you will +give him your sovereign.’</p> +<p>‘I will,’ said Lily, ‘but first I must ask +Emily to pay me for the London commissions.’</p> +<p>Emily repented not having had a private conference with +Lily.</p> +<p>‘So you have not settled your accounts,’ said Mr. +Mohun. ‘I hope Lily has not ruined you, +Emily.’</p> +<p>‘I thought her a mirror of prudence,’ said +Claude.</p> +<p>‘Well, Emily, is the sovereign forthcoming? I am +going directly, for Frank has something to do at Raynham, and +William is going to try his gray in the phaeton.’</p> +<p>‘I am afraid you will think me very silly,’ said +Emily, after some deliberation, ‘but I hope Lily will not +be very angry when I confess that seven shillings is the sum +total of my property.’</p> +<p>‘Oh, Emily,’ cried Lily, in dismay, ‘what +has become of your five pounds?’</p> +<p>‘I gave them as a subscription for a clergyman’s +widow in distress,’ said Emily; ‘it was the impulse +of a moment, I could not help it, and, dear Lily, I hope it will +not inconvenience you.’</p> +<p>‘If papa will be kind enough to wait for this pound till +Michaelmas,’ said Lily.</p> +<p>‘I would wait willingly,’ said Mr. Mohun, +‘but I will not see you cheated. How much does she +owe you?’</p> +<p>‘The commissions came to six pounds three,’ said +Lily, looking down.</p> +<p>‘But, Lily,’ said Jane, ‘you forget the old +debt.’</p> +<p>‘Never mind,’ whispered Lily; but Mr. Mohun asked +what Jane had said, and Claude repeated her speech, upon which he +inquired, ‘What old debt?’</p> +<p>‘Papa,’ said Emily, in her most candid tone, +‘I do not know what I should have done but for Lily’s +kindness. Really, I cannot get on with my present +allowance; being the eldest, so many expenses come upon +me.’</p> +<p>‘Then am I to understand,’ replied Mr. Mohun, +‘that your foolish vanity has led you to encroach on your +sister’s kindness, and to borrow of her what you had no +reasonable hope of repaying? Again, Lily, what does she owe +you?’</p> +<p>Emily felt the difference between the sharp, curious eyes with +which Jane regarded her, and the sorrowful downcast looks of +Lily, who replied, ‘The old debt is four pounds, but that +does not signify.’</p> +<p>‘Well,’ resumed her father, ‘I cannot blame +you for your good-nature, though an older person might have acted +otherwise. You must have managed wonderfully well, to look +always so well dressed with only half your proper income. +Here is the amount of the debt. Is it right? And, +Lily, one thing more; I wish to thank you for what you have done +towards keeping this house in order. You have worked hard, +and endured much, and from all I can gather, you have prevented +much mischief. Much has unfairly been thrown upon you, and +you have well and steadily done your duty. For you, Emily, +I have more to say to you, but I shall not enter on it at +present, for it is late. You had better get ready, or you +will keep the others waiting.’</p> +<p>‘I do not think I can go,’ sighed Emily.</p> +<p>‘You are wanted,’ said Mr. Mohun. ‘I +do not think your aunt would like Florence to go without +you.’</p> +<p>Lily had trembled as much under her father’s praise as +Emily under his blame. She did not feel as if his +commendation was merited, and longed to tell him of her faults +and follies, but this was no fit time, and she hastened to +prepare for her expedition, her spirits scarcely in time for a +party of pleasure. Jane talked about the 30th, and asked +questions about London, all the way to Raynham, and both Emily +and Lily were glad to join in her chatter, in hopes of relieving +their own embarrassment.</p> +<p>On arriving at the place of meeting they found Lady Florence +watching for them.</p> +<p>‘I am glad you are come,’ said she, +‘Rotherwood will always set out either too soon or too +late, and this time it was too soon, so here we have been full a +quarter of an hour, but he does not care. There he is, +quite engrossed with his book.’</p> +<p>Lord Rotherwood was standing by the counter, reading so +intently that he did not see his cousins’ arrival. +When they entered he just looked up, shook hands, asked after +Ada, and went on reading. Lily began looking for some books +for the school, which she had long wished for, and was now able +to purchase; Emily sat down in a melancholy, abstracted mood, and +Florence and Jane stood together talking.</p> +<p>‘You know you are all to come early,’ said the +former, ‘I do not know how we should manage without +you. Rotherwood insists on having everything the same +day—poor people first, and gentry and farmers +altogether. Mamma does not like it, and I expect we shall +be dreadfully tired; but he says he will not have the honest poor +men put out for the fashionables; and you know we are all to +dance with everybody. But Jenny, who is this crossing the +street? Look, you have an eye for oddities.’</p> +<p>‘Miss Fitchett, the subscription-hunter,’ said +Jane.</p> +<p>‘She is actually coming to hunt us. I believe I +have my purse. Oh! Emily is to be the first +victim.’</p> +<p>Miss Fitchett advanced to Emily, and saying that she believed +she had the honour to address Miss Mohun, began to tell her that +her friend having been prematurely informed of her small efforts, +had with a noble spirit of independence begged that the +subscription might not be continued, and that what had already +been given might be returned, and she rejoiced in this +opportunity of making the explanation. But Miss Fitchett +could not bear to relinquish the five-pound note, and added, that +perhaps Miss Mohun might not object to apply her subscription to +some other object, the Dorcas Society for instance.</p> +<p>‘Thank you, I have no interest in the Dorcas +Society,’ said Emily; a reply which brought upon her a full +account of all its aims and objects; and as still her polite +looks spoke nothing of assent, Miss Fitchett went on with a +string of other societies, speaking the louder and the more +eagerly in the hope of attracting the attention of the young +marquis and his sister. Emily was easily overwhelmed with +words, and not thinking it lady-like to claim her money, yet +feeling that none of these societies were fit objects for it, she +stood confused and irresolute, unwilling either to consent or +refuse. Jane, perceiving her difficulty, turned to Lord +Rotherwood, and rousing him from his book, explained +Emily’s distress in a few words, and sent him to her +rescue. He stepped forward just as Miss Fitchett, taking +silence for consent, was proceeding to thank Emily; ‘I +think you misunderstand Miss Mohun,’ said he. +‘Since her subscription is not needed by the person for +whom it was intended, she would be glad to have it +restored. She does not wish to encourage any unauthorised +societies.’</p> +<p>Boy as he was, in appearance still more than in age, there was +a dignity in his manner which, together with the principle on +which he spoke, overawed Miss Fitchett even more than his +rank. She only said, ‘Oh! my lord, I beg your +pardon. Certainly, only—’</p> +<p>The note was placed in Emily’s hands, and with a bow +from Lord Rotherwood, she retreated, murmuring to herself the +remonstrance which she had not courage to bestow upon the +Marquis.</p> +<p>‘Thank you, thank you, Rotherwood,’ said Emily; +‘you have done me a great service.’</p> +<p>‘Well done, Rotherwood,’ said Florence; ‘you +have given the old lady something to reflect upon.’</p> +<p>‘Made a public announcement of principle,’ said +Lily.</p> +<p>‘I was determined to give her a reason,’ said the +Marquis, laughing, ‘but I assure you I felt like the stork +with its head in the wolf’s mouth, I thought she would give +me a screed of doctrine. How came you to let your property +get unto her clutches, Emily?’</p> +<p>‘It was a subscription for Mrs. Aylmer,’ said +Emily.</p> +<p>‘Our curate’s wife!’ cried he with a start; +‘how was it? Florence, did you know anything? I +thought she was in London. Why were we in the dark? +Tell me all.’</p> +<p>‘All I know is that she is living somewhere in Raynham, +and last week there was a paper here to say that she was in want +of the means of fitting out her son for India.’</p> +<p>‘Yes, yes, Johnny, I know my father did get a promise +for him—well!’</p> +<p>‘That is all I know, except that she does not choose to +be a beggar.’</p> +<p>‘Poor Mrs. Aylmer! shameful neglect! she shall not be +ill-used any longer, I will find her out this instant. +Don’t wait for me.’</p> +<p>And after a few words to Mr. Adams, off he went, walking as +fast as he could, and leaving the young ladies not without fear +of another invasion. Soon, however, the brothers came in, +and presently after Mrs. Weston appeared. It was agreed +that Lord Rotherwood should be left to his own devices, and they +set out for the concert-room. Poor Florence lost much +pleasure in disappointment at his non-appearance, but when the +concert was over they found him sitting in the carriage, +reading. As soon as they appeared he sprang out, and came +to meet them, pouring rapidly out a history of his +adventures.</p> +<p>‘Then you have found them, and what can be done for +them?’</p> +<p>‘Everything ought to be done, but Mrs. Aylmer has a +spirit of independence. That foolish woman’s +advertisement was unknown to her till Emily’s five pounds +came in, so fine a nest-egg that she could not help cackling, +whereupon Mrs. Aylmer insisted on having every farthing +returned.’</p> +<p>‘Can she provide the boy’s outfit?’</p> +<p>‘She says so, or rather that her daughter can, but I +shall see about that. It is worth while to be of age. +Imagine! That bank which failed was the end of my +father’s legacy. They must have lived on a fraction +of nothing! Edward went to sea. Miss Aylmer went out +as a governess. Now she is at home.’</p> +<p>‘Miss Aylmer!’ exclaimed Miss Weston, ‘I +know she was a clergyman’s daughter. Do you know the +name of the family she lived with?’</p> +<p>‘Was it Grant?’ said William. ‘I +remember hearing of her going to some Grants.’</p> +<p>‘It was,’ said Alethea; ‘she must be the +same. Is she at home?’</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ said Lord Rotherwood, ‘and you may +soon see her, for I mean to have them all to stay at the castle +as soon as our present visitors are gone. My mother and +Florence shall call upon them on Friday.’</p> +<p>‘Now,’ said Claude, ‘I have not found out +what brought them back to Raynham.’</p> +<p>‘Have you lived at Beechcroft all your life, and never +discovered that there is a grammar-school at Raynham, with +special privileges for the sons of clergymen of the +diocese?’</p> +<p>A few more words, and the cousins parted; Emily by no means +sorry that she had been obliged to go to Raynham. She +tendered the five-pound note to her father, but he desired her to +wait till Friday, and then to bring him a full account of her +expenditure of the year. Her irregular ways made this +almost impossible, especially as in the present state of affairs +she wished to avoid a private conference with either Lily or +Jane. She was glad that an invitation to dine and sleep at +the castle on Wednesday would save her from the peril of having +to talk to Lily in the evening. Reginald came home on +Tuesday, to the great joy of all the party, and especially to +that of Phyllis. This little maiden was more puzzled by the +events that had taken place than conscious of the feeling which +she had once thought must be so delightful. She could +scarcely help perceiving that every one was much more kind to her +than usual, especially Claude and Lily, and Lord Rotherwood said +things which she could not at all understand. Her +observation to Reginald was, ‘Was it not lucky I had a +cough on Twelfth Day, or Claude would not have told me what to do +about gunpowder?’</p> +<p>Reginald troubled Phyllis much by declaring that nothing +should induce him to kiss his nephew, and she was terribly +shocked by the indifference with which Eleanor treated his +neglect, even when it branched out into abuse of babies in +general, and in particular of Henry’s bald head and +turned-up nose.</p> +<p>In the evening of Wednesday Phyllis was sitting with Ada in +the nursery, when Reginald came up with the news that the party +downstairs were going to practise country dances. Eleanor +was to play, Claude was to dance with Lily, and Frank with Jane, +and he himself wanted Phyllis for a partner.</p> +<p>‘Oh!’ sighed Ada, ‘I wish I was there to +dance with you, Redgie! What are the others +doing?’</p> +<p>‘Maurice is reading, and William went out as soon as +dinner was over; make haste, Phyl.’</p> +<p>‘Don’t go,’ said Ada, ‘I shall be +alone all to-morrow, and I want you.’</p> +<p>‘Nonsense,’ said Reginald, ‘do you think she +is to sit poking here all day, playing with those foolish London +things of yours?’</p> +<p>‘But I am ill, Redgie. I wish you would not be +cross. Everybody is cross to me now, I think.’</p> +<p>‘I will stay, Ada,’ said Phyllis. ‘You +know, Redgie, I dance like a cow.’</p> +<p>‘You dance better than nothing,’ said Reginald, +‘I must have you.’</p> +<p>‘But you are not ill, Redgie,’ said Phyllis.</p> +<p>He went down in displeasure, and was forced to consider Sir +Maurice’s picture as his partner, until presently the door +opened, and Phyllis appeared. ‘So you have thought +better of it,’ cried he.</p> +<p>‘No,’ said Phyllis, ‘I cannot come to dance, +but Ada wants you to leave off playing. She says the music +makes her unhappy, for it makes her think about +to-morrow.’</p> +<p>‘Rather selfish, Miss Ada,’ said Claude.</p> +<p>‘Stay here, Phyllis, now you are come,’ said Mr. +Mohun, ‘I will go and speak to Ada.’</p> +<p>Phyllis was now captured, and made to take her place opposite +to Reginald; but more than once she sighed under the apprehension +that Ada was receiving a lecture. This was the case; and +very little did poor Ada comprehend the change that had taken +place in the conduct of almost every one towards her; she did not +perceive that she was particularly naughty, and yet she had +suddenly become an object of blame, instead of a spoiled +pet. Formerly her little slynesses had been unnoticed, and +her overbearing ways towards Phyllis scarcely remarked, but now +they were continually mentioned as grievous faults. Esther, +her especial friend and comforter, was scarcely allowed to come +into the same room with her; Hannah treated her with a kind of +grave, silent respect, far from the familiarity which she liked; +little Henry’s nurse never would talk to her, and if it had +not been for Phyllis, she would have been very miserable. +On Phyllis, however, she repaid herself for all the +mortifications that she received, while the sweet-tempered little +girl took all her fretfulness and exactions as results of her +illness, and went on pitying her, and striving to please her.</p> +<p>When Phyllis came up to wish her good-night, she was received +with an exclamation at her lateness in a peevish tone: +‘Yes, I am late,’ said Phyllis, merrily, ‘but +we had not done dancing till tea-time, and then Eleanor was so +kind as to say I might sit up to have some tea with +them.’</p> +<p>‘Ah! and you quite forgot how tiresome it is up here, +with nobody to speak to,’ said Ada. ‘How cross +they were not to stop the music when I said it made me +miserable!’</p> +<p>‘Claude said it was selfish to want to stop five +people’s pleasure for one,’ said Phyllis.</p> +<p>‘But I am so ill,’ said Ada. ‘If +Claude was as uncomfortable as I am, he would know how to be +sorry for me. And only think—Phyl, what are you +doing? Do not you know I do not like the moonlight to come +on me. It is like a great face laughing at me.’</p> +<p>‘Well, I like the moon so much!’ said Phyllis, +creeping behind the curtain to look out, ‘there is +something so white and bright in it; when it comes on the +bed-clothes, it makes me go to sleep, thinking about white robes, +oh! and all sorts of nice things.’</p> +<p>‘I can’t bear the moon,’ said Ada; ‘do +not you know, Maurice says that the moon makes the people go mad, +and that is the reason it is called lunacy, after <i>la +lune</i>?’</p> +<p>‘I asked Miss Weston about that,’ said Phyllis, +‘because of the Psalm, and she said it was because it was +dangerous to go to sleep in the open air in hot countries. +Ada, I wish you could see now. There is the great round +moon in the middle of the sky, and the sky such a beautiful +colour, and a few such great bright stars, and the trees so dark, +and the white lilies standing up on the black pond, and the lawn +all white with dew! what a fine day it will be +to-morrow!’</p> +<p>‘A fine day for you!’ said Ada, ‘but only +think of poor me all alone by myself.’</p> +<p>‘You will have baby,’ said Phyllis.</p> +<p>‘Baby—if he could talk it would be all very +well. It is just like the cross people in books. Here +I shall lie and cry all the time, while you are dancing about as +merry as can be.’</p> +<p>‘No, no, Ada, you will not do that,’ said Phyllis, +with tears in her eyes. ‘There is baby with all his +pretty ways, and you may teach him to say Aunt Ada, and I will +bring you in numbers of flowers, and there is your new doll, and +all the pretty things that came from London, and the new book of +Fairy Tales, and all sorts—oh! no, do not cry, +Ada.’</p> +<p>‘But I shall, for I shall think of you dancing, and not +caring for me.’</p> +<p>‘I do care, Ada—why do you say that I do +not? I cannot bear it, Ada, dear Ada.’</p> +<p>‘You don’t, or you would not go and leave me +alone.’</p> +<p>‘Then, Ada, I will not go,’ said Phyllis; ‘I +could not bear to leave you crying here all alone.’</p> +<p>‘Thank you, dear good Phyl, but I think you will not +have much loss. You know you do not like dancing, and you +cannot do it well, and they will be sure to laugh at +you.’</p> +<p>‘And I daresay Redgie and Marianne will tell us all +about it,’ said Phyllis, sighing. ‘I should +rather like to have seen it, but they will tell us.’</p> +<p>‘Then do you promise to stay?—there’s a +dear,’ said Ada.</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ said Phyllis. ‘Cousin Robert is +coming in, and that will be very nice, and I hope he will not +look as he did the day the gunpowder went off—oh, +dear!’ She went back to the window to get rid of her +tears unperceived. ‘Ah,’ cried she, +‘there is some one in the garden!’</p> +<p>‘A man!’ screamed Ada—‘a thief, a +robber—call somebody!’</p> +<p>‘No, no,’ said Phyllis, laughing, ‘it is +only William; he has been out all the evening, and now papa has +come out to speak to him, and they are walking up and down +together. I wonder whether he has been sitting with Cousin +Robert or at Broomhill! Well, good-night, Ada. Here +comes Hannah.’</p> +<h2><a name="page277"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +277</span>CHAPTER XXV<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE THIRTIETH OF JULY</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘The heir, with roses in his shoes,<br /> +That night might village partner choose.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> 30th of July was bright and +clear, and Phyllis was up early, gathering flowers, which, with +the help of Jane’s nimble fingers, she made into elegant +little bouquets for each of her sisters, and for Claude.</p> +<p>‘How is this?’ said Mr. Hawkesworth, pretending to +look disconsolate, ‘am I to sing “Fair Phyllida +flouts me,” or why is my button-hole left +destitute?’</p> +<p>‘Perhaps that is for you on the side-table,’ said +Lily.</p> +<p>‘Oh! no,’ said Phyllis, ‘those are some +Provence roses for Miss Weston and Marianne, because Miss Weston +likes those, and they have none at Broomhill. Redgie is +going to take care of them. I will get you a nosegay, +Frank. I did not know you liked it.’</p> +<p>She started up. ‘How prudent, Phyllis,’ said +Eleanor, ‘not to have put on your muslin frock +yet.’</p> +<p>‘Oh! I am not going,’ said Phyllis.</p> +<p>‘Not going!’ was the general outcry.</p> +<p>‘No, poor Ada cries so about being left at home with +only baby, that I cannot bear it, and so I promised to +stay.’</p> +<p>Away went Phyllis, and Reginald exclaimed, ‘Well, she +shall not be served so. I will go and tell Ada so this +instant.’</p> +<p>Off he rushed, and putting in his head at the nursery door, +shouted, ‘Ada, I am come to tell you that Phyl is not to be +made your black-a-moor slave! She shall go, that is +settled.’</p> +<p>Down he went with equal speed, without waiting for an answer, +and arrived while Eleanor was saying that she thought Ada was +provided with amusement with the baby, her playthings, and books, +and that Mr. Devereux had promised to make her a visit.</p> +<p>‘Anybody ought to stay at home rather than +Phyllis,’ said Lily; ‘I think I had better +stay.’</p> +<p>‘No, no, Lily,’ said Jane, ‘you are more +wanted than I am; you are really worth talking to and dancing +with; I had much better be at home.’</p> +<p>‘I forgot!’ exclaimed William. ‘Mrs. +Weston desired me to say that she is not going, and she will take +care of Ada. Mr. Weston will set her down at half-past ten, +and take up one of us.’</p> +<p>‘I will be that one,’ said Reginald, ‘I have +not seen Miss Weston since I came home. I meant to walk to +Broomhill after dinner yesterday, only the Baron stopped me about +that country-dance. Last Christmas I made her promise to +dance with me to-day.’</p> +<p>Lily had hoped to be that one, but she did not oppose +Reginald, and turned to listen to Eleanor, who was saying, +‘Let us clearly understand how every one is to go, it will +save a great deal of confusion. You and Jane, and Maurice, +go in the phaeton, do not you? And who drives +you?’</p> +<p>‘William, I believe,’ said Lily. +‘Claude goes earlier, so he rides the gray. Then +there is the chariot for you and Frank, and papa and +Phyllis.’</p> +<p>So it was proposed, but matters turned out otherwise. +The phaeton, which, with a promoted cart-horse, was rather a slow +conveyance, was to set out first, but the whole of the freight +was not ready in time. The ladies were in the hall as soon +as it came to the door, but neither of the gentlemen were +forthcoming. Reginald, who was wandering in the hall, was +sent to summon them; but down he came in great wrath. +Maurice had declared that he was not ready, and they must wait +for him till he had tied his neckcloth, which Reginald opined +would take three quarters of an hour, as he was doing it +scientifically, and William had said that he was not going in the +gig at all, that he had told Wat Greenwood to drive, and that +Reginald must go instead of Maurice.</p> +<p>In confirmation of the startling fact Wat, who had had a +special invitation from the Marquis, was sitting in the phaeton +in his best black velvet coat. Jane only hoped that Emily +would not look out of the window, or she would certainly go into +fits on seeing them arrive with the old phaeton, the thick-legged +cart-horse, and Wat Greenwood for a driver; and Reginald, after +much growling at Maurice, much bawling at William’s door, +and, as Jane said, romping and roaring in all parts of the house, +was forced to be resigned to his fate, and all the way to +Hetherington held a very amusing conversation with his +good-natured friend the keeper.</p> +<p>They were overtaken, nodded to, and passed by the rest of +their party. Maurice had been reduced to ride the pony, +William came with the Westons, and the chariot load was just as +had been before arranged.</p> +<p>Claude came out to meet them at the door, saying, ‘I +need not have gone so early. What do you think has become +of the hero of the day? Guess, I will just give you this +hint,</p> +<blockquote><p>“Though on pleasure he was bent, he had no +selfish mind.”’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>‘Oh! the Aylmers, I suppose,’ said Lilias.</p> +<p>‘Right, Lily, he heard something at dinner yesterday +about a school for clergymen’s sons, which struck him as +likely to suit young Devereux Aylmer, and off he set at seven +o’clock this morning to Raynham, to breakfast with Mrs. +Aylmer, and talk to her about it. Never let me hear again +that he is engrossed with his own affairs!’</p> +<p>‘And why is he in such a hurry?’ asked Lily.</p> +<p>‘’Tis his nature,’ said Claude, +‘besides Travers, who mentioned this school, goes away +to-morrow. My aunt is in a fine fright lest he should not +come back in time. Did not you hear her telling papa so in +the drawing-room?’</p> +<p>‘There he is, riding up to the door,’ said +Phyllis, who had joined them in the hall. Lord Rotherwood +stopped for a few moments at the door to give some directions to +the servants, and then came quickly in. ‘Ah, there +you are!—What time is it? It is all right, +Claude—Devereux is just the right age. I asked him a +few questions this morning, and he will stand a capital +examination. Ha, Phyl, I am glad to see you.’</p> +<p>‘I wish you many happy returns of the day, Cousin +Rotherwood.’</p> +<p>‘Thank you, Phyl, we had better see how we get through +one such day before we wish it to return. Are the rest +come?’</p> +<p>He went on into the drawing-room, and hastily informing his +mother that he had sent the carriage to fetch Miss Aylmer and her +brothers to the feast, called Claude to come out on the lawn to +look at the preparations. The bowling-green was to serve as +drawing-room, and at one end was pitched an immense tent where +the dinner was to be.</p> +<p>‘I say, Claude,’ said he in his quickest and most +confused way, ‘I depend upon you for one thing. Do +not let the Baron be too near me.’</p> +<p>‘The Baron of Beef?’ said Claude.</p> +<p>‘No, the Baron of Beechcroft. If you wish my +speech to be <i>radara tadara</i>, put him where I can imagine +that he hears me.’</p> +<p>‘Very well,’ said Claude, laughing; ‘have +you any other commands?’</p> +<p>‘No—yes, I have though. You know what we +settled about the toasts. Hunt up old Farmer Elderfield as +soon as he comes, and do not frighten him. If you could sit +next to him and make him get up at the right time, it would be +best. Tell him I will not let any one propose my health but +my great-grandfather’s tenant. You will manage it +best. And tell Frank Hawkesworth, and Mr. Weston, or some +of them, to manage so that the gentry may not sit together in a +herd, two or three together would be best. Mind, Claude, I +depend on you for being attentive to all the damsels. I +cannot be everywhere at once, and I see your great Captain will +be of no use to me.’</p> +<p>Here news was brought that the labourers had begun to arrive, +and the party went to the walnut avenue, where the feast was +spread. It was pleasant to see so many poor families +enjoying their excellent dinner; but perhaps the pleasantest +sight was the lord of the feast speaking to each poor man with +all his bright good-natured cordiality. Mr. Mohun was +surprised to see how well he knew them all, considering how short +a time he had been among them, and Lilias found Florence rise in +her estimation, when she perceived that the inside of the +Hetherington cottages were not unknown to her.</p> +<p>‘Do you know, Florence,’ said she, as they walked +back to the house together, ‘I did you great +injustice? I never expected you to know or care about poor +people.’</p> +<p>‘No more I did till this winter,’ said Florence; +‘I could not do anything, you know, before. Indeed, I +do not do much now, only Rotherwood has made me go into the +school now and then; and when first we came, he made it his +especial request that whenever a poor woman came to ask for +anything I would go and speak to her. And so I could not +help being interested about those I knew.’</p> +<p>‘How odd it is that we never talked about it,’ +said Lily.</p> +<p>‘I never talk of it,’ said Florence, +‘because mamma never likes to hear of my going into +cottages with Rotherwood. Besides, somehow I thought you +did it as a matter of duty, and not of pleasure. Oh! +Rotherwood, is that you?’</p> +<p>‘The Aylmers are come,’ said Lord Rotherwood, +drawing her arm into his, ‘and I want you to come and speak +to them, Florence and Lily; I can’t find any one; all the +great elders have vanished. You know them of old, do not +you, Lily?’</p> +<p>‘Of old? Yes; but of so old that I do not suppose +they will know me. You must introduce me.’</p> +<p>He hastened them to the drawing-room, where they found Miss +Aylmer, a sensible, lady-like looking person, and two brothers, +of about fifteen and thirteen.</p> +<p>‘Well, Miss Aylmer, I have brought you two old friends; +so old, that they think you have forgotten them—my cousin +Lilias, and my sister Florence.’</p> +<p>‘We have not forgotten you, Miss Aylmer,’ said +Florence, warmly shaking hands with her. ‘You seem so +entirely to belong to Hetherington that I scarcely knew the place +without you.’</p> +<p>There was something that particularly pleased Lily in the +manner in which Miss Aylmer answered. Florence talked a +little while, and then proposed to adjourn to the supplementary +drawing-room—the lawn—where the company were already +assembling.</p> +<p>Florence was soon called off to receive some other guest, and +Lilias spent a considerable time in sitting under a tree talking +to Miss Aylmer, whom she found exceedingly pleasant and +agreeable, remembering all that had happened during their former +intercourse, and interested in everything that was going +on. Lily was much amused when her companion asked her who +that gentleman was—‘that tall, thin young man, with +dark hair, whom she had seen once or twice speaking to Lord +Rotherwood?’</p> +<p>The tall gentleman advanced, spoke to Miss Aylmer, told Lily +that the world was verging towards the tent, and giving one arm +to her and the other to Miss Aylmer, took that direction. +In the meantime Phyllis had been walking about with her eldest +sister, and wondering what had become of all the others. In +process of time she found herself seated on a high bench in the +tent, with a most beautiful pink-and-white sugar temple on the +table before her. She was between Eleanor and Frank. +All along one side of the table was a row of faces which she had +never seen before, and she gazed at them in search of some +well-known countenance. At last Mr. Weston caught her eye, +and nodded to her. Next to him she saw Marianne, then +Reginald; on the other side Alethea and William. A little +tranquillised by seeing that every one was not lost, she had +courage to eat some cold chicken, to talk to Frank about the +sugar temple, and to make an inventory in her mind of the +smartest bonnets for Ada’s benefit. She was rather +unhappy at not having found out when grace was said before +dinner, and she made Eleanor promise to tell her in time to stand +up after dinner. She could not, however, hear much, though +warned in time, and by this time more at ease and rather enjoying +herself than otherwise. Now Eleanor told her to listen, for +Cousin Rotherwood was going to speak. She listened, but +knew not what was said, until Mr. Hawkesworth told her it was +Church and Queen. What Church and Queen had to do with +Cousin Rotherwood’s birthday she could not imagine, and she +laid it up in her mind to ask Claude. The next time she was +told to listen she managed to hear more. By the help of +Eleanor’s directions, she found out the speaker, an aged +farmer, in a drab greatcoat, his head bald, excepting a little +silky white hair, which fell over the collar of his coat. +It was Mr. Elderfield, the oldest tenant on the estate, and he +was saying in a slow deliberate tone that he was told he was to +propose his lordship’s health. It was a great honour +for the like of him, and his lordship must excuse him if he did +not make a fine speech. All he could say was, that he had +lived eighty-three years on the estate, and held his farm nearly +sixty years; he had seen three marquises of Rotherwood besides +his present lordship, and he had always found them very good +landlords. He hoped and believed his lordship was like his +fathers, and he was sure he could do no better than tread in +their steps. He proposed the health of Lord Rotherwood, and +many happy returns of the day to him.</p> +<p>The simplicity and earnestness of the old man’s tones +were appreciated by all, and the tremendous cheer, which almost +terrified Phyllis, was a fit assent to the hearty good wishes of +the old farmer.</p> +<p>‘Now comes the trial!’ whispered Claude to Lilias, +after he had vehemently contributed his proportion to the +noise. Lilias saw that his colour had risen, as much as if +he had to make a speech himself, and he earnestly examined the +coronet on his fork, while every other eye was fixed on the +Marquis. Eloquence was not to be expected; but, at least, +Lord Rotherwood spoke clearly and distinctly.</p> +<p>‘My friends,’ said he, ‘you must not expect +much of a speech from me; I can only thank you for your kindness, +say how glad I am to see you here, and tell you of my earnest +desire that I may not prove myself unworthy to be compared with +my forefathers.’ Here was a pause. +Claude’s hand shook, and Lily saw how anxious he was, but +in another moment the Marquis went on smoothly. ‘Now, +I must ask you to drink the health of a gentleman who has done +his utmost to compensate for the loss which we sustained nine +years ago, and to whom I owe any good intentions which I may +bring to the management of this property. I beg leave to +propose the health of my uncle, Mr. Mohun, of +Beechcroft.’</p> +<p>Claude was much surprised, for his cousin had never given him +a hint of his intention. It was a moment of great delight +to all the young Mohuns when the cheer rose as loud and hearty as +for the young lord himself, and Phyllis smiled, and wondered, +when she saw her papa rise to make answer. He said that he +could not attempt to answer Lord Rotherwood, as he had not heard +what he said, but that he was much gratified by his having +thought of him on this occasion, and by the goodwill which all +had expressed. This was the last speech that was +interesting; Lady Rotherwood’s health and a few more toasts +followed, and the party then left the tent for the lawn, where +the cool air was most refreshing, and the last beams of the +evening sun were lighting the tops of the trees.</p> +<p>The dancing was now to begin, and this was the time for Claude +to be useful. He had spent so much time at home, and had +accompanied his father so often in his rides, that he knew every +one, and he was inclined to make every exertion in the cause of +his cousin, and on this occasion seemed to have laid aside his +indolence and disinclination to speak to strangers.</p> +<p>Lady Florence was also indefatigable, darting about, with a +wonderful perception who everybody was, and with whom each would +like to dance. She seized upon little Devereux Aylmer for +her own partner before any one else had time to ask her, and +carried him about the lawn, hunting up and pairing other shy +people.</p> +<p>‘Why, Reginald, what are you about? You can manage +a country-dance. Make haste; where is your +partner?’</p> +<p>‘I meant to dance with Miss Weston,’ said +Reginald, piteously.</p> +<p>‘Miss Weston? Here she is.’</p> +<p>‘That is only Marianne,’ said Reginald.</p> +<p>‘Oh! Miss Weston is dancing with William. +Marianne, will you accept my apologies for this discourteous +cousin of mine? I am perfectly horror-struck. There, +Redgie, take her with a good grace; you will never have a better +partner.’</p> +<p>Marianne was only too glad to have Reginald presented to her, +ungracious as he was, but the poor little couple met with +numerous disasters. They neither of them knew the way +through a country-dance, and were almost run over every time they +went down the middle; Reginald’s heels were very +inconvenient to his neighbours; so much so, that once Claude +thought it expedient to admonish him, that dancing was not merely +an elegant name for football without a ball. Every now and +then some of their friends gave them a hasty intimation that they +were all wrong, but that they knew already but too well. At +last, just when Marianne had turned scarlet with vexation, and +Reginald was growing so desperate that he had thoughts of running +a way, the dance came to an end, and Reginald, with very scanty +politeness to his partner, rushed away to her sister, saying, in +rather a reproachful tone, ‘Miss Weston, you promised to +dance with me.’</p> +<p>‘I have not forgotten my promise,’ said Alethea, +smiling.</p> +<p>At the same moment Claude hurried up, saying, ‘William, +I want a partner for Miss Wilkins, of the Wold Farm. Miss +Wilkins, let me introduce Captain Mohun.’</p> +<p>‘You see I have made the Captain available,’ said +Claude, presently after meeting Lord Rotherwood, as he speeded +across the lawn.</p> +<p>‘Have you? I did not think him fair game,’ +said the Marquis. ‘Where is your heroine, +Claude? I have not seen her dancing.’</p> +<p>‘What heroine? What do you mean?’</p> +<p>‘Honest Phyl, of course. Did you think I meant +Miss Weston?’</p> +<p>‘With Eleanor, somewhere. Is the next dance a +quadrille?’</p> +<p>Lord Rotherwood ran up the bank to the terraced walks, where +the undancing part of the company sat or walked about. Soon +he spied Phyllis standing by Eleanor, looking rather +wearied. ‘Phyllis, can you dance a +quadrille?’</p> +<p>Phyllis opened her eyes, and Eleanor desired her to +answer.</p> +<p>‘Come, Phyllis, let me see what M. Le Roi has done for +you.’</p> +<p>He led her away, wondering greatly, and thinking how very +good-natured Cousin Rotherwood was.</p> +<p>Emily was much surprised to find Phyllis her <i>vis à +vis</i>. Emily was very generally known and liked, and had +no lack of grand partners, but she would have liked to dance with +the Marquis. When the quadrille was over, she was glad to +put herself in his way, by coming up to take charge of +Phyllis.</p> +<p>‘Well done, Phyl,’ said he; ‘no +mistakes. You must have another dance. Whom shall we +find for you?’</p> +<p>‘Oh! Rotherwood,’ said Emily, ‘you cannot +think how you gratified us all with your speech.’</p> +<p>‘Ah! I always set my heart on saying something of the +kind; but I wished I could have dared to add the bride’s +health.’</p> +<p>‘The bride!’</p> +<p>‘Do not pretend to have no eyes,’ said Lord +Rotherwood, with a significant glance, which directed +Emily’s eyes to the terrace, where Mr. Mohun and Alethea +were walking together in eager conversation.</p> +<p>Emily was ready to sink into the earth. Jane’s +surmises, and the mysterious words of her father, left her no +further doubt. At this moment some one asked her to dance, +and scarcely knowing what she did or said, she walked to her +place. Lord Rotherwood now found a partner for Phyllis, and +a farmer’s daughter for himself.</p> +<p>This dance over, Phyllis’s partner did not well know how +to dispose of her, and she grew rather frightened on finding that +none of her sisters were in sight. At last she perceived +Reginald standing on the bank, and made her escape to him.</p> +<p>‘Redgie, did you see who I have been dancing with? +Cousin Rotherwood and Claude’s grand Oxford +friend—Mr. Travers.’</p> +<p>‘It is all nonsense,’ said Reginald. +‘Come out of this mob of people.’</p> +<p>‘But where is Eleanor?’</p> +<p>‘Somewhere in the midst. They are all absurd +together.’</p> +<p>‘What is the matter, Redgie?’ asked Phyllis, +unable to account for this extraordinary fit of misanthropy.</p> +<p>‘Papa and William both driving me about like a +dog,’ said Reginald; ‘first I danced with Miss +Weston—then she saw that woman—that Miss +Aylmer—shook hands—talked—and then nothing +would serve her but to find papa. As soon as the Baron sees +me he cries out, “Why are not you dancing, Redgie? We +do not want you!” Up and down they walk, ever so +long, and presently papa turns off, and begins talking to Miss +Aylmer. Then, of course, I went back to Miss Weston, but +then up comes William, as savage as one of his Canadian bears; he +orders me off too, and so here I am! I am sure I am not +going to ask any one else to dance. Come and walk with me +in peace, Phyl. Do you see them?—Miss Weston and +Marianne under that tulip-tree, and the Captain helping them to +ice.’</p> +<p>‘Redgie, did you give Miss Weston her nosegay? +Some one put such beautiful flowers in it, such as I never saw +before.’</p> +<p>‘How could I? They sent me off with Lily and +Jane. I told William I had the flowers in charge, and he +said he would take care of them. By the bye, Phyl,’ +and Reginald gave a wondrous spring, ‘I have it! I +have it! I have it! If he is not in love with Miss +Weston you may call me an ass for the rest of my life.’</p> +<p>‘I should not like to call you an ass, Redgie,’ +said Phyllis.</p> +<p>‘Very likely; but do not make me call you one. +Hurrah! Now ask Marianne if it is not so. Marianne +must know. How jolly! I say, Phyl, stay there, and I +will fetch Marianne.’</p> +<p>Away ran Reginald, and presently returned with Marianne, who +was very glad to be invited to join Phyllis. She little +knew what an examination awaited her.</p> +<p>‘Marianne,’ began Phyllis, ‘I’ll tell +you what—’</p> +<p>‘No, I will do it right,’ said Reginald; +‘you know nothing about it, Phyl. Marianne, is not +something going on there?’</p> +<p>‘Going on?’ said Marianne, ‘Alethea is +speaking to Mrs. Hawkesworth.’</p> +<p>‘Nonsense, I know better, Marianne. I have a +suspicion that I could tell what the Captain was about yesterday +when he walked off after dinner.’</p> +<p>‘How very wise you think you look, Reginald!’ said +Marianne, laughing heartily.</p> +<p>‘But tell us; do tell us, Marianne,’ said +Phyllis.</p> +<p>‘Tell you whet?’</p> +<p>‘Whether William is going to marry Miss Weston,’ +said the straightforward Phyllis. ‘Redgie says +so—only tell us. Oh! it would be so nice!’</p> +<p>‘How you blurt it out, Phyl,’ said Reginald. +‘You do not know how those things are managed. Mind, +I found it out all myself. Just say, Marianne. Am not +I right?’</p> +<p>‘I do not know whether I ought to tell,’ said +Marianne.</p> +<p>‘Oh! then it is all right,’ said Reginald, +‘and I found it out. Now, Marianne, there is a good +girl, tell us all about it.’</p> +<p>‘You know I could not say “No” when you +asked me,’ said Marianne; ‘I could not help it +really; but pray do not tell anybody, or Captain Mohun will not +like it.’</p> +<p>‘Does any one know?’ said Reginald.</p> +<p>‘Only ourselves and Mr. Mohun; and I think Lord +Rotherwood guesses, from something I heard him say to +Jane.’</p> +<p>‘To Jane?’ said Reginald. ‘That is +provoking; she will think she found it out all herself, and be so +conceited!’</p> +<p>‘You need not be afraid,’ said Marianne, laughing; +‘Jane is on a wrong scent.’</p> +<p>‘Jane? Oh! I should like to see her out in her +reckonings! I should like to have a laugh against +her. What does she think, Marianne?’</p> +<p>‘Oh! I cannot tell you; it is too bad.’</p> +<p>‘Oh! do; do, pray. You may whisper it if it is too +bad for Phyllis to hear.’</p> +<p>‘No, no,’ said Marianne; ‘it is nothing but +nonsense. If you hear it, Phyllis shall too; but mind, you +must promise not to say anything to anybody, or I do not know +what will become of me.’</p> +<p>‘Well, we will not,’ said Reginald; ‘boys +can always keep secrets, and I’ll engage for Phyl. +Now for it.’</p> +<p>‘She is in a terrible fright lest it should be Mr. +Mohun. She got it into her head last autumn, and all I +could say would not persuade her out of it. Why, she always +calls me Aunt Marianne when we are alone. Now, Reginald, +here comes Maurice. Do not say anything, I beg and +entreat. It is my secret, you know. I daresay you +will all be told to-morrow,—indeed, mamma said +so,—but pray say nothing about me or Jane. It was +only settled yesterday evening.’</p> +<p>At this moment Maurice came up, with a message that Miss +Weston and Eleanor were going away, and wanted the little +girls. They followed him to the tent, which had been +cleared of the tables, and lighted up, in order that the dancing +might continue there. Most of their own party were +collected at the entrance, watching for them. Lilias came +up just as they did, and exclaimed in a tone of disappointment, +on finding them preparing to depart. She had enjoyed +herself exceedingly, found plenty of partners, and was not in the +least tired.</p> +<p>‘Why should she not stay?’ said William. +‘Claude has engaged to stay to the end of everything, and +he may as well drive her as ride the gray.’</p> +<p>‘And you, Jenny,’ said Mr. Mohun, ‘do you +like to stay or go? Alethea will make room for you in the +pony-carriage, or you may go with Eleanor.</p> +<p>‘With Eleanor, if you please,’ said Jane.</p> +<p>‘Already, Jane?’ said Lily. ‘Are you +tired?’</p> +<p>Jane drew her aside. ‘Tired of hearing that I was +right about what you would not believe. Did you not hear +what he called her? And Rotherwood has found it +out.’</p> +<p>‘It is all gossip and mistake,’ said Lily.</p> +<p>Here Jane was called away by Eleanor, and departed with her; +Lilias went to look for her aunt or Florence, but on the way was +asked to dance by Mr. Carrington.</p> +<p>‘I suppose I may congratulate you,’ said he in one +of the pauses in the quadrille.</p> +<p>Lily thought it best to misunderstand, and answered, +‘Everything has gone off very well.’</p> +<p>‘Very. Lord Rotherwood will be a popular man; but +my congratulations refer to something nearer home. I think +you owe us some thanks for having brought them into the +neighbourhood.’</p> +<p>‘Report is very kind in making arrangements,’ said +Lily, with something of Emily’s haughty courtesy.</p> +<p>‘I hope this is something more than report,’ said +her partner.</p> +<p>‘Indeed, I believe not. I think I may safely say +that it is at present quite unfounded,’ said Lily.</p> +<p>Mr. Carrington, much surprised, said no more.</p> +<p>Lily did not believe the report sufficiently to be annoyed by +it during the excitement and pleasure of the evening, and at +present her principal vexation was caused by the rapid diminution +of the company. She and her brother were the very last to +depart, even Florence had gone to bed, and Lady Rotherwood, +looking exceedingly tired, kissed Lily at the foot of the stairs, +pitied her for going home in an open carriage, and wished her +good-night in a very weary tone.</p> +<p>‘I should think you were the fiftieth lady I have handed +across the hall,’ said Lord Rotherwood, as he gave Lily his +arm.</p> +<p>‘But where were the fireworks, Rotherwood?’</p> +<p>‘Countermanded long ago. We have had enough of +them. Well, I am sorry it is over.’</p> +<p>‘I am very glad it is so well over,’ said +Claude.</p> +<p>‘Thanks to your exertions, Claude,’ said the +Marquis. ‘You acted like a hero.’</p> +<p>‘Like a dancing dervish you mean,’ said +Claude. ‘It will suffice for my whole +life.’</p> +<p>‘I hope you are not quite exhausted.’</p> +<p>‘No, thank you. I have turned over a new +leaf.’</p> +<p>‘Talking of new leaves,’ said the Marquis, +‘I always had a presentiment that Emily’s government +would come to a crisis to-day.’</p> +<p>‘Do you think it has?’ said Claude.</p> +<p>‘Trust my word, you will hear great news +to-morrow. And that reminds me—can you come here +to-morrow morning? Travers is going—I drive him to +meet the coach at the town, and you were talking of wanting to +see the new windows in the cathedral: it will be a good +opportunity. And dine here afterwards to talk over the +adventures.’</p> +<p>‘Thank you—that last I cannot do. The Baron +was saying it would be the first time of having us all +together.’</p> +<p>‘Very well, besides the great news. I wish I was +going back with you; it is a tame conclusion, only to go to +bed. If I was but to be on the scene of action +to-morrow. Tell the Baron that—no, use your influence +to get me invited to dinner on Saturday—I really want to +speak to him.’</p> +<p>‘Very well,’ said Claude, ‘I’ll do my +best. Good-night.’</p> +<p>‘Good-night,’ said the Marquis. ‘You +have both done wonders. Still, I wish it was to come over +again.’</p> +<p>‘Few people would say so,’ said Lily, as they +drove off.</p> +<p>‘Few would say so if they thought so,’ said +Claude. ‘I have been quite admiring the way +Rotherwood has gone on—enjoying the fun as if he was +nobody—just as Reginald might, making other people happy, +and making no secret of his satisfaction in it all.’</p> +<p>‘Very free from affectation and nonsense,’ said +Lily, ‘as William said of him last Christmas. You +were in a fine fright about his speech, Claude.’</p> +<p>‘More than I ought to have been. I should have +known that he is too simple-minded and straightforward to say +anything but just what he ought. What a nice person that +Miss Aylmer is.’</p> +<p>‘Is not she, Claude? I was very glad you had her +for a neighbour. Happy the children who have her for a +governess. How sensible and gentle she seems. The +Westons—But oh! Claude, tell me one thing, did you +hear—’</p> +<p>‘Well, what?’</p> +<p>‘I am ashamed to say. That preposterous report +about papa. Why, Rotherwood himself seems to believe it, +and Mr. Carrington began to congratulate—’</p> +<p>‘The public has bestowed so many ladies on the Baron, +that I wonder it is not tired,’ said Claude. +‘It is time it should patronise William instead.’</p> +<p>‘Rotherwood is not the public,’ said Lily, +‘and he is the last person to say anything impertinent of +papa. And I myself heard papa call her Alethea, which he +never used to do. Claude, what do you think?’</p> +<p>After a long pause Claude slowly replied, ‘Think? +Why, I think Miss Weston must be a person of great courage. +She begins the world as a grandmother, to say nothing of her +eldest daughter and son being considerably her +seniors.’</p> +<p>‘I do not believe it,’ said Lily. ‘Do +you, Claude?’</p> +<p>‘I cannot make up my mind—it is too amazing. +My hair is still standing on end. When it comes down I may +be able to tell you something.’</p> +<p>Such were the only answers that Lily could extract from +him. He did not sufficiently disbelieve the report to treat +it with scorn, yet he did not sufficiently credit it to resign +himself to such a state of things.</p> +<p>On coming home Lily found Emily and Jane in her room, eagerly +discussing the circumstances which, to their prejudiced eyes, +seemed strong confirmation. While their tongues were in +full career the door opened and Eleanor appeared. She told +them it was twelve o’clock, turned Jane out of the room, +and made Emily and Lily promise not to utter another syllable +that night.</p> +<h2><a name="page297"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +297</span>CHAPTER XXVI<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE CRISIS</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘“Is this your care of the +nest?” cried he,<br /> +“It comes of your gadding abroad,” said +she.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">To</span> the consternation of the +disconsolate damsels, the first news they heard the next morning +was that Mr. Mohun was gone to breakfast at Broomhill, and the +intelligence was received by Frank Hawkesworth with a smile which +they thought perfectly malicious. Frank, William, and +Reginald talked a little at breakfast about the +<i>fête</i>, but no one joined them, and Claude looked so +grave that Eleanor was convinced that he had a headache, and +vainly tried to persuade him to stay at home, instead of setting +off to Devereux Castle immediately after breakfast.</p> +<p>The past day had not been spent in vain by Ada. Mrs. +Weston had led her by degrees to open her heart to her, had made +her perceive the real cause of her father’s displeasure, +see her faults, and promise to confess them, a promise which she +performed with many tears, as soon as she saw Eleanor in the +morning.</p> +<p>On telling this to Emily Eleanor was surprised to find that +she was not listened to with much satisfaction. Emily +seemed to think it a piece of interference on the part of Mrs. +Weston, and would not allow that it was likely to be the +beginning of improvement in Ada.</p> +<p>‘The words were put into her mouth,’ said she; +‘and they were an easy way of escaping from her present +state of disgrace.’</p> +<p>‘On the contrary,’ said Eleanor, ‘she seemed +to think that she justly deserved to be in disgrace.’</p> +<p>‘Did you think so?’ said Emily, in a careless +tone.</p> +<p>‘You are in a strange mood to-day, Emily,’ said +Eleanor.</p> +<p>‘Am I? I did not know it. I wonder where +Lily is.’</p> +<p>Lily was in her own room, teaching Phyllis. Phyllis was +rather wild and flighty that morning, scarcely able to command +her attention, and every now and then bursting into an +irrepressible fit of laughter. Reginald and Phyllis found +it most difficult to avoid betraying Marianne, and as soon as +luncheon was over, they agreed to set out on a long expedition +into the woods, where they might enjoy their wonderful secret +together. Just at this time Mr. Mohun returned. He +came into the drawing-room, and Lilias, perceiving that the +threatened conversation with Emily was about to take place, made +her escape to her own room, whither she was presently followed by +Jane, who could not help running after her to report the great +news that Emily was to be deposed.</p> +<p>‘I am sure of it,’ said she. ‘They +sent me out of the room, but not before I had seen certain +symptoms.’</p> +<p>‘It is very hard that poor Emily should bear all the +blame,’ said Lily.</p> +<p>‘You have managed to escape it very well,’ said +Jane, laughing. ‘You have all the thanks and +praise. I suppose it is because the intimacy with Miss +Weston was your work.’</p> +<p>‘I will not believe that nonsense,’ said Lily.</p> +<p>‘Seeing is believing, they say,’ said Jane. +‘Remember, it is not only me. Think of +Rotherwood. And Maurice guesses it too, and Redgie told him +great things were going on.’</p> +<p>While Jane was speaking they heard the drawing-room door open, +and in another moment Emily came in.</p> +<p>It was true that, as Jane said, she had been deposed. +Mr. Mohun had begun by saying, ‘Emily, can you bring me +such an account of your expenditure as I desired?’</p> +<p>‘I scarcely think I can, papa,’ said Emily. +‘I am sorry to say that my accounts are rather in +confusion.’</p> +<p>‘That is to say, that you have been as irregular in the +management of your own affairs as you have in mine. Well, I +have paid your debt to Lilias, and from this time forward I +require of you to reduce your expenses to the sum which I +consider suitable, and which both Eleanor and Lilias have found +perfectly sufficient. And now, Emily, what have you to say +for the management of my affairs? Can you offer any excuse +for your utter failure?’</p> +<p>‘Indeed, papa, I am very sorry I vexed you,’ said +Emily. ‘Our illness last autumn—different +things—I know all has not been quite as it should be; but I +hope that in future I shall profit by past experience.’</p> +<p>‘I hope so,’ said Mr. Mohun, ‘but I am +afraid to trust the management of the family to you any +longer. Your trial is over, and you have failed, merely +because you would not exert yourself from wilful indolence and +negligence. You have not attended to any one thing +committed to your charge—you have placed temptation in +Esther’s way—and allowed Ada to take up habits which +will not be easily corrected. I should not think myself +justified in leaving you in charge any longer, lest worse +mischief should ensue. I wish you to give up the keys to +Eleanor for the present.’</p> +<p>Mr. Mohun would perhaps have added something if Emily had +shown signs of repentance, or even of sorrow. The moment +was at least as painful to him as to her, and he had prepared +himself to expect either hysterical tears, with vows of +amendment, or else an argument on her side that she was right and +everybody else wrong. But there was nothing of the kind; +Emily neither spoke nor looked; she only carried the tokens of +her authority to Eleanor, and left the room. She thought +she knew well enough the cause of her deposition, considered it +quite as a matter of course, and departed on purpose to avoid +hearing the announcement which she expected to follow.</p> +<p>She was annoyed by finding her sisters in her room, and +especially irritated by Jane’s tone, as she eagerly asked, +‘Well, what did he say?’</p> +<p>‘Never mind,’ replied Emily, pettishly.</p> +<p>‘Was it about Miss Weston?’ persisted Jane.</p> +<p>‘Not actually, but I saw it was coming,’ said +Emily.</p> +<p>‘Ah!’ said Jane, ‘I was just telling Lily +that she owes all her present favour to her having been +Alethea’s bosom friend.’</p> +<p>‘I confess I thought Miss Weston was assuming authority +long ago,’ said Emily.</p> +<p>‘Emily, how can you say so?’ cried Lily. +‘How can you be so unjust and ungrateful? I do not +believe this report; but if it should be true, are not these +foolish expressions of dislike so many attempts to make yourself +undutiful?’</p> +<p>‘I have rather more sincerity, more dignity, more +attachment to my own mother, than to try to gain favour by +affecting what I do not feel,’ said Emily.</p> +<p>‘Rather cutting, Emily,’ said Jane.</p> +<p>‘Do not give that speech an application which Emily did +not intend,’ said Lily, sadly.</p> +<p>‘What makes you think I did not intend it?’ said +Emily, coldly.</p> +<p>‘Emily!’ exclaimed Lily, starting up, and +colouring violently, ‘are you thinking what you are +saying?’</p> +<p>‘I do not know what you mean,’ replied Emily +quietly, in her soft, unchanging voice; ‘I only mean that +if you can feel satisfied with the new arrangement you are more +easily pleased than I am.’</p> +<p>‘Only tell me, Emily, do you accuse me of attempting to +gain favour in an unworthy manner?’</p> +<p>‘I only congratulate you on standing so well with every +one.’</p> +<p>Lily hid her face in her hands. At this moment Eleanor +opened the door, saying, ‘Can you come down? Mrs. +Burnet is here.’ Eleanor went without observing Lily, +and Emily was obliged to follow. Jane lingered in order to +comfort Lily.</p> +<p>‘You know she did not quite mean it,’ said she; +‘she is only very much provoked.’</p> +<p>‘I know, I know,’ said Lily; ‘she is very +sorry herself by this time. Of course she did not mean it, +but it is the first unkind thing she ever said to me. It is +very silly, and very unjust to take it seriously, but I cannot +help it.’</p> +<p>‘It is a very abominable shame,’ said Jane, +‘and so I shall tell Emily.’</p> +<p>‘No, do not, Jenny, I beg. I know she thinks so +herself, and grieves too much over it. No wonder she is +vexed. All my faults have come upon her. You had +better go down, Jane; Mrs. Burnet is always vexed if she does not +see a good many of us, and I am sure I cannot go. Besides, +Emily dislikes having that girl to entertain.’</p> +<p>‘Lily, you are so very gentle and forgiving, that I +wonder how any one can say what grieves you,’ said Jane, +for once struck with admiration.</p> +<p>She went, and Lily remained, weeping over the injustice which +she had forgiven, and feeling as if, all the time, it was fair +that the rule of ‘love’ should, as it were, recoil +upon her. Her tears flowed fast, as she went over the long +line of faults and follies which lay heavy on her +conscience. And Emily against her! That sister who, +from her infancy, had soothed her in every trouble, of whose +sympathy she had always felt sure, whose gentleness had been her +admiration in her days of sharp answers and violent temper, who +had seemed her own beyond all the others; this wound from her +gave Lily a bitter feeling of desertion and loneliness. It +was like a completion of her punishment—the broken reed on +which she leant had pierced her deeply.</p> +<p>She was still sitting on the side of her bed, weeping, when a +slight tap at the door made her start—a gentle tap, the +sound of which she had learned to love in her illness. The +next moment Alethea stood before her, with outstretched +arms. This was a time to feel the value of such a friend, +and every suspicion passing from her mind, she flew to Alethea, +kissed her again and again, and laid her head on her +shoulder. Her caress was returned with equal warmth.</p> +<p>‘But how is this?’ said Alethea, now perceiving +that her face was pale, and marked by tears. ‘How is +this, my dear Lily?’</p> +<p>‘Oh, Alethea! I cannot tell you, but it is all +misery. The full effect of my baneful principle has +appeared!’</p> +<p>‘Has anything happened?’ exclaimed Alethea.</p> +<p>‘No,’ said Lily. ‘There is nothing +new, except the—Oh! I cannot tell you.’</p> +<p>‘I wish I could do anything for you, my poor +Lily,’ said Alethea.</p> +<p>‘You can look kind,’ said Lily, ‘and that is +a great comfort. Oh! Alethea, it was very kind of you to +come and speak to me. I shall do now—I can bear it +all better. You have a comforting face and voice like +nobody else. When did you come? Have you been in the +drawing-room?’</p> +<p>‘No,’ said Alethea. ‘I walked here +with Marianne, and finding there were visitors in the +drawing-room we went to Ada, and she told me where to find +you. I had something to tell you—but perhaps you know +already.’</p> +<p>The colour on her cheek recalled all Lily’s fears, and +to hear the news from herself was an unexpected trial. She +felt as if what she had said justified Emily’s reproach, +and turning away her head, replied, ‘Yes, I +know.’</p> +<p>Alethea was a little hurt by her coldness, but she ascribed it +to dejection and embarrassment, and blamed herself for hurrying +on what she had to tell without sufficient regard for +Lily’s distress. There was an awkward pause, which +Alethea broke, by saying, ‘Your brother thought you would +like to hear it from me.’</p> +<p>‘My brother!’ cried Lily, with a most sudden +change of tone. ‘William? Oh, Alethea! dearest +Alethea; I beg your pardon. They almost made me believe it +was papa. Oh! I am so very glad!’</p> +<p>Alethea could not help laughing, and Lily joined her +heartily. It was one of the brightest hours of her life, as +she sat with her hand in her friend’s, pouring out her +eager expressions of delight and affection. All her +troubles were forgotten—how should they not, when Alethea +was to be her sister! It seemed as if but a few minutes had +passed, when the sound of the great clock warned Alethea that it +was time to return to Broomhill, and she asked Lilias to walk +back with her. After summoning Marianne, they set out +through the garden, where, on being joined by William, Lily +thought it expedient to betake herself to Marianne, who was but +too glad to be able freely to communicate many interesting +particulars. At Broomhill she had a very enjoyable talk +with Mrs. Weston, but her chief delight was in her walk home with +her brother. She was high in his favour, as Alethea’s +chief friend. Though usually reserved, he was now open, and +Lily wondered to find herself honoured with confidence. His +attachment had begun in very early days, when first he knew the +Westons in Brighton. Harry’s death had suddenly +called him away, and a few guarded expressions of his wishes in +the course of the next winter had been cut short by his +father. He then went to Canada, and had had no opportunity +of renewing his acquaintance till the last winter, when, on +coming home, to his great joy and surprise he found the Westons +on the most intimate terms with his family.</p> +<p>He then spoke to his father, who wished him to take a little +more time for consideration, and he had accordingly waited till +the summer. Lily longed to know his plans for the future, +and presently he went on to say that his father wished him to +leave the army, live at home, and let Alethea be the head of the +household.</p> +<p>‘Oh, William! it is perfect. There is an end of +all our troubles. It is as if a great black curtain was +drawn up.’</p> +<p>‘They say such plans never succeed,’ said William; +‘but we mean to prove the contrary.’</p> +<p>‘How good it will be for the children!’ said +Lily.</p> +<p>‘Oh! why had we not such a guide at first?’</p> +<p>‘She has all that Eleanor wants,’ said +William.</p> +<p>‘My follies were not Eleanor’s fault,’ said +Lily; ‘but I do think I should not have been quite so silly +if I had known Alethea from the first.’</p> +<p>It was not in the power of William himself to say more in her +praise than Lily. In the eagerness of their conversation +they walked slowly, and as they were crossing the last field the +dinner-bell rang. As they quickened their steps they saw +Mr. Mohun looking at his wheat. Lily told him how late it +was.</p> +<p>‘There,’ said he, ‘I am always looking after +other people’s affairs. Between Rotherwood and +William I have not a moment for my own crops. However, my +turn is coming. William will have it all on his hands, and +the old deaf useless Baron will sit in his great chair and take +his ease.’</p> +<p>‘Not a bit, papa,’ said Lily, ‘the Baron +will grow young, and take to dancing. He is talking +nonsense already.’</p> +<p>‘Eh! Miss Lily turned saucy? Mrs. William +Mohun must take her in hand. Well, Lily, has he your +consent and approbation?’</p> +<p>‘I only wish this was eighteen months ago, +papa.’</p> +<p>‘We shall soon come into order, Lily. With Miss +Aylmer for the little ones, and Mrs. Mohun for the great ones, I +have little fear.’</p> +<p>‘Miss Aylmer, papa!’</p> +<p>‘Yes, if all turns out well. We propose to find a +house for her mother in the village, and let her come every day +to teach the little ones.’</p> +<p>‘Oh! I am very glad. We liked her so +much.’</p> +<p>‘I hope,’ said Mr. Mohun, ‘that this plan +will please Claude better than my proposal of a governess last +month. He looked as if he expected Minerva with helmet, and +Ægis and all. Now make haste and dress. Do not +let us shock Eleanor by keeping dinner waiting longer than we can +help.’</p> +<p>Lilias found that her sisters had long been dressed and gone +down. She dressed alone, every now and then smiling at her +own happy looks reflected in the glass. Just as she had +finished, Claude knocked at the door, and putting in his head, +said, ‘Well, Lily, has the wonderful news come forth? +I see it has, by your face.’</p> +<p>‘And do you know what it is, Claude?’ said +Lily.</p> +<p>‘I know what Rotherwood meant, and I cannot think where +all our senses were.’</p> +<p>‘And, Claude, only say that you like her.’</p> +<p>‘I think it is a very good thing indeed.’</p> +<p>‘Only say that you cordially like her.’</p> +<p>‘I do. I admire her sense and her gentleness very +much, and I think you owe a great deal to her.’</p> +<p>‘Then you allow that you were unjust last +summer?’</p> +<p>‘I do; but it was owing to you. You were somewhat +foolish, and I thought it was her fault. Besides, I was +quite tired of hearing that extraordinary name of hers for ever +repeated.’</p> +<p>Here they were summoned to dinner, and hurried down. The +dinner passed very strangely; some were in very high spirits, +others in a very melancholy mood; Eleanor and Maurice alone +preserved the golden mean; and the behaviour of the merry ones +was perfectly unintelligible to the rest. Reginald, still +bound by his promise to Marianne, was wild to make his discovery +known, and behaved in such a strange and comical manner as to +call forth various reproofs from Eleanor, which provoked double +mirth from the others. The cause of their amusement was +ostensibly the talking over of yesterday’s +<i>fête</i>, but the laughing was more than adequate, even +to the wonderful collection of odd speeches and adventures which +were detailed. Emily and Jane could not guess what had come +to Lily, and thought her merriment very ill-placed. Yet, in +justice to Lily, it must be said that her joy no longer made her +wild and thoughtless. There was something guarded and +subdued about her, which made Claude reflect how different she +was from the untamed girl of last summer, who could not be happy +without a sort of intoxication.</p> +<p>The ladies returned to the drawing-room, where Ada now +appeared for the first time, and while they were congratulating +her Mr. Mohun summoned Eleanor away. Jane followed at a +safe distance to see where they went. They shut themselves +into the study, and Jane, now meeting Maurice, went into the +garden with him. ‘It must be coming now,’ said +she; ‘oh! there are William and Claude talking under the +plane-tree.’</p> +<p>‘Claude has his cunning smile on,’ said +Maurice.</p> +<p>‘No wonder,’ said Jane, ‘it is very +absurd. I daresay William will hardly ever come home +now. One comfort is, they will see I was right from the +first.’</p> +<p>Jane and Maurice remained in the garden till teatime, and thus +missed hearing the whole affair discussed in the drawing-room +between Emily, Lilias, and Frank. This was the first news +that Emily heard of it, and a very great relief it was, for she +could imagine liking, and even loving, Alethea as a +sister-in-law. Her chief annoyance was at present from the +perception of the difference between her own position and that of +Lilias. Last year how was Lily regarded in the family, and +what was her opinion worth? Almost nothing; she was only a +clever, romantic, silly girl, while Emily had credit at least for +discretion. Now Lily was consulted and sought out by +father, brothers, Eleanor—no longer treated as a +child. And what was Emily? Blamed or pitied on every +side, and left to hear this important news from the chance +mention of her brother-in-law, himself not fully informed. +She had become nobody, and had even lost the satisfaction, such +as it was, of fancying that her father only made her bad +management an excuse for his marriage. She heard many +particulars from Lily in the course of the evening, as they were +going to bed; and the sisters talked with all their wonted +affection, although Emily had not thought it worth while to +revive an old grievance, by asking Lily’s pardon for her +unkind speech, and rested satisfied with the knowledge that her +sister knew her heart too well to care for what she said in a +moment of irritation. On the other hand, Lily did not think +that she had a right to mention the plan of Alethea’s +government, and the next day she was glad of her reserve, for her +father called her to share his early walk for the purpose of +talking over the scheme, telling her that he thought she +understood the state of things better than Eleanor could, and +that he considered that she had sufficient influence with Emily +to prevent her from making Alethea uncomfortable. The +conclusion of the conversation was, that they thought they might +depend upon Emily’s amiability, her courtesy, and her +dislike of trouble, to balance her love of importance and +dignity. And that Alethea would do nothing to hurt her +feelings, and would assume no authority that she could help, they +felt convinced.</p> +<p>After breakfast Mr. Mohun called Emily into his study, +informed her of his resolution, to which she listened with her +usual submissive manner, and told her that he trusted to her good +sense and right feeling to obviate any collisions of authority +which might be unpleasant to Alethea and hurtful to the younger +ones. She promised all that was desired, and though at the +moment she felt hurt and grieved, she almost immediately +recovered her usual spirits, never high, but always serene, and +only seeking for easy amusement and comfort in whatever +happened. There was no public disgrace in her deposition; +it would not seem unnatural to the neighbours that her +brother’s wife should be at the head of the house. +She would gain credit for her amiability, and she would no longer +be responsible or obliged to exert herself; and as to Alethea +herself, she could not help respecting and almost loving +her. It was very well it was no worse.</p> +<p>In the meantime Lily, struck by a sudden thought, had hastened +to her mother’s little deserted morning-room, to see if it +could not be made a delightful abode for Alethea; and she was +considering of its capabilities when she started at the sound of +an approaching step. It was the rapid and measured tread of +the Captain, and in a few moments he entered. ‘Thank +you,’ said he, smiling, ‘you are on the same errand +as myself.’</p> +<p>‘Exactly so,’ said Lily; ‘it will do +capitally; how pretty Long Acre looks, and what a beautiful view +of the church!’</p> +<p>‘This room used once to be pretty,’ said William, +looking round, disappointed; ‘it is very +forlorn.’</p> +<p>‘Ah! but it will look very different when the chairs do +not stand with their backs to the wall. I do not think +Alethea knows of this room, for nobody has sat in it for years, +and we will make it a surprise. And here is your own +picture, at ten years old, over the fireplace! I have such +a vision, you will not know the room when I have set it to +rights.’</p> +<p>They went on talking eagerly of the improvements that might be +made, and from thence came to other subjects—Alethea +herself, and the future plans. At last William asked if +Lily knew what made Jane look as deplorable as she had done for +the last two days, and Lily was obliged to tell him, with the +addition that Eleanor had begun to inform her of the real fact, +but that she had stopped her by declaring that she had known it +all from the first. Just as they had mentioned her, Jane, +attracted by the unusual sound of voices in Lady Emily’s +room, came in, asking what they could be doing there. Lily +would scarcely have dared to reply, but William said in a grave, +matter-of-fact way, ‘We are thinking of having this room +newly fitted up.’</p> +<p>‘For Alethea Weston?’ said Jane; ‘how can +you, Lily? I should have thought, at least, it was no +laughing matter.’</p> +<p>‘I advise you to follow Lily’s example and make +the best of it,’ said William.</p> +<p>‘I do, but it is another thing to stand laughing +here. I see one thing that I shall do—I shall take +away your picture and hang it in my room.’</p> +<p>‘We shall see,’ said William, following Lilias, +who had left the room to hide her laughter.</p> +<p>To mystify Jane was the great amusement of the day; Reginald, +finding Maurice possessed with the same notion, did more to +maintain it than the others would have thought right, and Maurice +reporting his speeches to Jane, she had not the least doubt that +her idea was correct. Lord Rotherwood came to dinner, and +no sooner had he entered the drawing-room than Reginald, +rejoicing in the absence of the parties concerned, informed him +of the joke, much to his diversion, though rather to the +discomfiture of the more prudent spectators, who might have +wished it confined to themselves.</p> +<p>‘It has gone far enough,’ said Claude; ‘she +will say something she will repent if we do not take +care.’</p> +<p>‘I should like to reduce her to humble herself to ask an +explanation from Marianne,’ said Lily.</p> +<p>‘And pray don’t spoil the joke before I have +enjoyed it,’ said Lord Rotherwood. ‘My years of +discretion are not such centuries of wisdom as those of that +gentleman who looks as grim as his namesake the Emperor on a +coin.’</p> +<p>The entrance of Eleanor and Jane here put an end to the +conversation, which was not renewed till the evening, when the +younger, or as Claude called it, the middle-aged part of the +company were sitting on the lawn, leaving the drawing-room to the +elder and more prudent, and the terrace to the wilder and more +active. Emily was talking of Mrs. Burnet’s visit of +the day before, and her opinion of the Hetherington +festivities. ‘And what an interminable visit it +was,’ said Jane; ‘I thought they would never +go!’</p> +<p>‘People always inflict themselves in a most merciless +manner when there is anything going on,’ said Emily.</p> +<p>‘I wonder if they guessed anything,’ said +Lily.</p> +<p>‘To be sure they did, and stayed out of +curiosity,’ said Lord Rotherwood. ‘In spite of +Emily’s dignified contradictions of the report, every one +knew it the other evening. It was all in vain that she +behaved as if I was speaking treason—people have +eyes.’</p> +<p>‘Ah! I am very sorry for that contradiction,’ said +Lily; ‘I hope people will not fancy we do not like +it.’</p> +<p>‘No, it will only prove my greatness,’ said Lord +Rotherwood. ‘Your Marques, was China in the map, so +absorbing all beholders that the magnanimous Mohuns +themselves—’</p> +<p>‘What nonsense, Rotherwood,’ said Jane, sharply; +‘can’t you suppose that one may shut one’s eyes +to what one does not wish to see.’</p> +<p>The singular inappropriateness of this answer occasioned a +general roar of laughter, and she looked in perplexity. +Every one whom she asked why they laughed replied by saying, +‘Ask Marianne Weston;’ and at length, after much +puzzling and guessing, and being more laughed at than had ever +before happened to her in her life, she was obliged to seek an +explanation from Marianne, who might well have triumphed had she +been so disposed. Jane’s character for penetration +was entirely destroyed, and the next morning she received, as a +present from Claude, an old book, which had long belonged to the +nursery, entitled, <i>A Puzzle for a Curious Girl</i>.</p> +<h2><a name="page313"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +313</span>CHAPTER XXVII<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">CONCLUSION</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘There let Hymen oft appear<br /> +In saffron robe, with taper clear,<br /> +And pomp, and feast, and revelry,<br /> +And mask, and antique pageantry;<br /> +Such sights as useful poets dream<br /> +On summer eves, by haunted stream.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">On</span> the morning of a fine day, late +in September, the Beechcroft bells were ringing merrily, and a +wedding procession was entering the gate of the churchyard.</p> +<p>In the afternoon there was a great feast on the top of the +hill, attended by all the Mohuns, who were forced, to +Lily’s great satisfaction, to give it there, as there was +no space in the grounds at the New Court. All was +wonderfully suitable to old times, inasmuch as the Baron was +actually persuaded to sit for five minutes under the yew-tree +where ‘Mohun’s chair’ ought to have been, and +the cricketers were of all ranks, from the Marquis of Rotherwood +to little Dick Grey.</p> +<p>The wedding had been hurried on, and the wedding tour was +shortened, in order that Mrs. William Mohun might be installed as +mistress of the New Court before Eleanor’s departure, which +took place early in October; and shortly after Mrs. Ridley, who +had come on a visit to Beechcroft, to take leave of her brother, +returned to the north, taking with her the little Harry. He +was nearly a year old, and it gave great pain to his young aunts +to part with him, now that he had endeared himself to them by +many engaging ways, but Lily felt herself too unequal to the task +of training him up to make any objection, and there were many +promises that he should not be a stranger to his +grandfather’s home.</p> +<p>Mrs. and Miss Aylmer had been about a month settled at a +superior sort of cottage, near the New Court, with Mrs. Eden for +their servant. Lord Rotherwood had fitted out the second +son, who sailed for India with Mr. and Mrs. Hawkesworth, had sent +Devereux to school, and was lying in wait to see what could be +done for the two others, and Jane was congratulated far more than +she wished, on having been the means of discovering such an +excellent governess. Jane was now a regular inhabitant of +the schoolroom, as much tied down to lessons and schoolroom hours +as her two little sisters, with the prospect of so continuing for +two years, if not for three. She made one attempt to be +pert to Miss Aylmer; but something in the manner of her governess +quite baffled her, and she was obliged to be more obedient than +she had ever been. The mischief which Emily and Lilias had +done to her, by throwing off their allegiance to Eleanor, and +thus unconsciously leading her to set her at nought, was, at her +age, not to be so easily repaired; yet with no opportunity for +gossiping, and with involuntary respect for her governess, there +were hopes that she would lose the habit of her two great +faults. There certainly was an improvement in her general +tone and manner, which made Mr. Devereux hope that he might soon +resume with her the preparation for confirmation which had been +cut short the year before.</p> +<p>Phyllis and Adeline had been possessed by Reginald with a +great dread of governesses; and they were agreeably surprised in +Miss Aylmer, whom they found neither cross nor strict, and always +willing to forward their amusements, and let them go out with +their papa and sisters whenever they were asked. Phyllis, +without much annoyance to one so obedient, was trained into more +civilisation, and Ada’s more serious faults were duly +watched and guarded against. The removal of Esther was a +great advantage to Ada; an older and more steady person was taken +in her place; while to the great relief of Mr. Mohun and Lilias, +Rachel Harvey took Esther to her brother’s farmhouse, where +she promised to watch and teach her, and hoped in time to make +her a good servant.</p> +<p>Of Emily there is little to say. She ate, drank, and +slept, talked agreeably, read idle books, and looked nice in the +drawing-room, wasting time, throwing away talents, weakening the +powers of her mind, and laying up a store of sad reflections for +herself against the time when she must awake from her selfish +apathy.</p> +<p>As to Lilias Mohun, the heroine of this tale, the history of +the formation of her character has been told, and all that +remains to be said of her is, that the memory of her faults and +her sorrows did not fleet away like a morning cloud, though +followed by many happy and prosperous days, and though the +effects of many were repaired. Agnes’s death, +Esther’s theft, Ada’s accident, the schism in the +parish, and her own numerous mistakes, were constantly recalled, +and never without a thought of the danger of being wise above her +elders, and taking mere feeling for Christian charity.</p> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SCENES AND CHARACTERS***</p> +<pre> + + +***** This file should be named 4944-h.htm or 4944-h.zip****** + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/4/9/4/4944 + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, +and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive +specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this +eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook +for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, +performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given +away--you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks +not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the +trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. + +START: FULL LICENSE + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full +Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at +www.gutenberg.org/license. + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or +destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your +possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a +Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound +by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the +person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph +1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this +agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the +Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection +of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual +works in the collection are in the public domain in the United +States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the +United States and you are located in the United States, we do not +claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, +displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as +all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope +that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting +free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm +works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the +Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily +comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the +same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when +you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are +in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, +check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this +agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, +distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any +other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no +representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any +country outside the United States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other +immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear +prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work +on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, +performed, viewed, copied or distributed: + + This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and + most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no + restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it + under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this + eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the + United States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you + are located before using this ebook. + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is +derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not +contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the +copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in +the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are +redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply +either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or +obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm +trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any +additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms +will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works +posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the +beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including +any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access +to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format +other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official +version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site +(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense +to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means +of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain +Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the +full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +provided that + +* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed + to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has + agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project + Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid + within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are + legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty + payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project + Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in + Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg + Literary Archive Foundation." + +* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all + copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue + all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm + works. + +* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of + any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of + receipt of the work. + +* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than +are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing +from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and The +Project Gutenberg Trademark LLC, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm +trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project +Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may +contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate +or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other +intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or +other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or +cannot be read by your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium +with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you +with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in +lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person +or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second +opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If +the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing +without further opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO +OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of +damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement +violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the +agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or +limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or +unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the +remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in +accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the +production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, +including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of +the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this +or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or +additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any +Defect you cause. + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of +computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It +exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations +from people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future +generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see +Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at +www.gutenberg.org + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by +U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the +mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its +volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous +locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt +Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to +date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and +official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact + +For additional contact information: + + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND +DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular +state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To +donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project +Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be +freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and +distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of +volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in +the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not +necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper +edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search +facility: www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + +</pre></body> +</html> |