CRUSHED.
Sir John Thornton could be a very pleasant host. He was a reserved man
with a really cold nature. He disliked fuss and what he called
"ebullitions of affection;" he hated kissing and fondling. He liked to
treat even his nearest and dearest with ceremony, but he was a perfect
host--the little attentions, the small politenesses which the _role_ of
host requires, suited his character exactly. Hester and Nan, his only
children, were his opposites in every respect. It is true that Hester
inherited some of his pride, and a good deal of his reserve, but the
fire underneath her calm, the passionate love which she could give so
warmly to her chosen friends, she inherited from her mother, not from
her father. Nan had never yet shown reserve to anyone. As far as any
creature could be said to be without false pride, Nan was that
individual--she was also absolutely devoid of fear. She believed that
all the world loved her. Why not? She was perfectly willing to love all
the world back again. If it chose to hate her, she could and would hate
it in return with interest; but, then, why should it? The world was a
good place to Nan Thornton up to the present.
Now, Sir John dreaded his impulsive younger daughter more than words
can say. Perhaps somewhere in his heart he had a certain fatherly
admiration for her, but if so it did not show itself in the usual
fatherly way. Annie Forest was at the present moment absorbing his
attention.
Annie was between sixteen and seventeen years of age; she was still, of
course, quite a child in Sir John's eyes, but she was undoubtedly very
pretty--she had winning ways and bright glances. Her little speeches
were full of wit and repartee, and she was naturally so full of tact
that she knew when a word would hurt, and therefore seldom said it.
When Nan entered the room in which a hasty supper had been prepared for
the hungry travellers, she found her father and Annie talking pleasantly
to one another at one end of the table, while Hester presided over the
tea equipage at the other.
"Here you are, little whirlwind," said Sir John, slipping his arm round
his younger daughter's waist and drawing her for a moment to his side.
Nan looked at him soberly. She gazed into his eyes and examined the
curves of his lips, and noted with satisfaction the wrinkles on his
brow, the crows' feet at the corner of each eye, and some strong lines
which betokened the advance of years in the lower part of his face.
"You're too old," she said, in a contemplative voice. "I'm so
glad--you're much too old."
She stroked his deepest wrinkle affectionately as she spoke.
Now Sir John hated being considered old, and an angry wave of colour
mounted to his forehead.
"As usual, you are a most impolite little girl," he said. "I do not
trouble myself to inquire what your sage remark means, nor why you
rejoice in the fact of my possessing the infirmities of years; but I
wish to repeat to you a proverb which I hope you will bear in mind, at
least, when in _my_ presence during the holidays, 'Little girls should
be seen and not heard.' Now go to your seat."
Sir John released his hold of Nan's broad waist and turned to Annie.
"Yes, a good deal of the country is flat," he said, "but we have some
pretty drives. Are you fond of riding?"
"I should be if I had a chance," replied Annie; "but the fact is, I
never was on horseback since I was five years old, so I cannot be said
to know much about it."
"I am sure you could quickly learn," said Sir John. "Hester has a very
quiet pony which she can lend you while you are here. By the way,
Hester, Squire Lorrimer called to-day. I said you would go to the Towers
to-morrow morning--you can take Miss Forest with you. The Lorrimers are
a very lively household, and it will amuse her to know them."
"I should think they are lively," burst from Nan at the far end of the
table. "How is Kitty Lorrimer, and how is Boris? And have they got as
many pets as ever? Oh, _can_ you tell me, please, father, if the
dormouse has awakened yet? It was fast asleep when I was home at
Christmas, and Boris said it mightn't wake again until May. Boris was so
sorry it wasn't quite dead, because he wanted to stuff it; but he
couldn't if it was alive, could he? That would be cruel, wouldn't it?
Father, can you tell me if the dormouse is awake?"
Sir John fixed a cold eye upon Nan.
"I am unacquainted with the state of the dormouse's health," he
said--"disgusting little beasts," he added, turning for sympathy to
Annie, whose bright dark eyes danced with fun as she watched him.
"They're not disgusting; they're perfectly heavenly little darlings,"
came from Nan in an indignant voice. "Oh, and what about the white rats?
Boris had four in a box when I went last to the Towers, and Kitty had
one all to herself, and Boris and Kitty were always fighting as to which
were the most beautiful--the one rat or the four. Did you ever see a
white rat, Annie? They _are_ pets, with long tails like worms."
"Hester," exclaimed Sir John, "will you induce Nan to hold her tongue
and eat her supper in peace?"
Hester bent forward and whispered something to Nan, who shrugged her
shoulders indignantly. Her face grew crimson.
"I can't learn that proverb," she said, after a pause. "I can't obey it,
its no use trying. Father, do you hear? I can't be one of those
seen-and-not-heard girls. Do you hear me, father?"
"I do, Nan. If we have finished supper, shall we go into the
drawing-room?" he added, turning to Annie.
Nan lingered behind. She slipped her hand through her sister's arm and
dragged her on to the terrace.
"I feel so wicked that I think I'll burst," she exclaimed. "Why is
father always throwing a damp cloth over me?"
"Nan, dear, you irritate him a good deal. Why do you talk in that silly
way when you know he cannot bear it?"
"Because I'm Nan," answered the child, pouting her lips.
"But Nan can learn wisdom," said Hester, in her sweet elder-sisterly
tone. "Even though you are the liveliest, merriest, dearest little girl
in the world, and though it is delicious to have you back"--here there
came an ecstatic hug--"you need not say things that you know will hurt.
For instance, you are perfectly well aware that father does not like his
age commented on."
"Oh, _that_," said Nan, some of the trouble which nurse's words had
caused coming back to her eyes. "Oh, but I really said what I _meant_,
then--it was not mischief. I was so glad to see that he is old. I love
those wrinkles of his--I adore them."
"What can you mean, you queer little thing?"
"Why, you see, Hetty, he won't be attractive, and there'll be no fear."
"No fear of what?"
"Nurse said that perhaps he'd be having a wife, and giving us a
stepmother."
"Oh, what nonsense!" said Hester, in a vexed tone. "What a silly thing
for nurse to say. I am quite surprised at her. As far as I can tell our
father has no intention of marrying again; but if he did?"
"If he did," repeated Nancy, "nurse says that you wouldn't be mistress
of the Grange any longer."
A wistful sort of look, half of pain, half of suppressed longing, filled
Hester's dark eyes for a moment.
"I might go out into the world," she said, "and have my heart's desire."
"But aren't you happy here?"
"Yes, oh yes! I am talking nonsense. My duty lies here, at least at
present. Mrs. Willis has taught me always to put duty first. Now, Nan,
let us forget what is not likely to happen. It is nearly time for you to
go to bed; you look quite tired; there are black rings under your eyes;
but first, just tell me about Mrs. Willis and the dear old school."
"Mrs. Willis is well," said Nan, with a yawn, "and the school is in
_statu quo_. I am in the middle school now, and perhaps I shall get a
drawing-room to myself before long. I'm not sure though, for I never can
be tidy."
"I wish you could be; it's a pity not to curb one's faults."
"Oh, bother faults. I don't want you to lecture me, Hetty."
"No, darling, I don't wish to; but I thought you were so fond of Mrs.
Willis. I thought you would do anything to please her."
"Yes, of course. I think I do please her. She gave me two prizes at the
break up--one for French and one for music. She kissed me, too, quite
half-a-dozen times. Look here, Hetty, I don't want you to ask Annie
Forest a lot of questions about me. I can't help having a romping time
now and then at school; and there are two new girls--Polly and Milly
Jenkins; they are so killingly funny; nearly as good as Boris and Kitty
Lorrimer. I always had a little bit of the wild element in me, and I
suppose it must come out somehow. Annie was wild enough when she was my
age, wasn't she, Hester?"
"Annie will be gay and light-hearted to the end of the chapter!"
exclaimed Hester.
"But she was naughty when she was my age, wasn't she?"
"She is not naughty now."
"Well, no more will I be when I am sixteen. Now, good-night, Het. Am I
to sleep in your room?"
"Yes."
"How scrumptious. Look out for a fine waking early in the morning."
Nan hugged Hester in her usual rough-and-ready manner, and danced
upstairs, singing as she went--
"_Old Daddy-long-legs wouldn't say his prayers,
Catch him by his left leg and throw him downstairs._"
This was one of Nan's rhymes which Sir John detested. Her voice was loud
and somewhat piercing. He heard it in the drawing-room, and went
deliberately and shut the door.
"Miss Forest," he said to his young guest, "there are moments when I
feel extremely uneasy with regard to the fate of my youngest daughter."
"About Nan's fate?" exclaimed Annie, raising her arched eyebrows; "why,
she is quite the dearest little thing in the world. I wish you could see
her at school; she is the pet of all the girls at Lavender House."
"That may be," said Sir John, with a slightly sarcastic movement of his
thin lips; "but it does not follow that school pets are home pets. If my
good friend, Mrs. Willis, finds Nan's society so agreeable, I wish she
would arrange to keep her for the holidays."
Annie's young face, so round, so fresh, so charming, was fixed in grave
surprise on her elderly host.
"Don't you love Nan at all?" she asked, wonder in her tone.
Sir John had been giving Miss Forest credit for great tact. Up to this
moment, he had considered her a very pretty, agreeable little girl, who
would be an acquisition in the house. Now he winced; she had trodden
very severely on one of his corns.
"I naturally have a regard for my child," he said, after a pause, "and I
presume that I show it best by having her properly educated and
disciplined in her youth."
"Oh, no, I don't think you do," said Annie. "You must forgive me for
saying frankly what I really think. I used to be like Nan when I was a
little girl, and I'd never have changed--never--never, I'd never have
become thoughtful for others, I'd always have been an unmitigated horror
to all my friends if my father had treated me like that. He's not a bit
like you, Sir John. I don't mean to compare him to you for a moment. He
is quite a rough sort of man, and he has led a rough life; but, oh dear
me, from the time he came back from Australia, and I knew that I had a
living father, I cannot tell you what a difference there has been in my
life. I have generally spent my holidays with him, and he has loved me
so much that I have loved him back again, and have learnt to know
exactly what will please him and make him happy. Nothing tamed me so
much as the knowledge that I was necessary to my father's happiness. I
am sure," added Annie in a low voice, and with a suspicion of tears in
her eyes, "that it would be just the same with dear little Nan."
She broke down suddenly, half afraid of her own temerity. There was
silence for nearly half a minute then Sir John rose from his chair,
and, going over to a lamp which was slightly smoking, turned it down.
"If your father has been in Australia," he said, turning again and
looking fixedly at his young visitor, "you will be interested in books
on that country. I have got all Henry Kingsley's novels. You will find
them in the library. Ask Hester to show you the book-case."
He strode deliberately out of the room, and Annie had to own to herself
that she felt crushed.