THE LORRIMERS OF THE TOWERS.
The morning post brought a letter from Mrs. Lorrimer, which set all
curiosity at rest. This letter was addressed to Jane Macalister, who
read it through first, with feverish haste and brows drawn darkly
together, then again straight from the beginning more slowly, and then a
third time, during which she surreptitiously wiped her eyes, and hoped
the children had not seen her do so.
Jane was seated before the tea equipage at the head of the long
breakfast table. Molly was helping her brothers and sisters to porridge,
cups of milk, and bread and jam, in her usual deft fashion. Jane raised
her eyes and encountered the brown ones of Molly.
"Well, Jane," said the young girl in a steady voice; "what is the news?"
"It's for you all to know, my dears," said Jane Macalister in a steady
voice. "Your mother has asked me to break it to you all. It's just a
question whether you shall all hear it together, or whether Molly shall
hear it by herself first. I think Molly must decide that point."
"I'll hear it with the others," said Molly.
As she spoke she went and sat down in a vacant chair near Nell.
"Perhaps it is not such news to Nell and me as you think," she said.
"Anyhow, we are prepared to hear it."
"It's 'perhaps' come true," said Nell in a faint voice, looking at Molly
with the ghost of a smile.
"Dear, dear," exclaimed Kitty, "whatever it is, let's out with it. I
don't suppose we are a set of cowards, any of us. I'm going to guess
what it is beforehand; it's that father's mare has broken her knees;
that's about the worst thing that _could_ happen. Father sent for the
mare to London a week ago; don't you remember, Guy, and when he was
riding her in the park she fell and broke her knees; that's it, you
bet."
"Do shut up," exclaimed Guy.
"You bet I'm right," replied Kitty, flushed and defiant.
Under no other possible circumstances would Kitty have dared to say "you
bet" in the presence of Jane Macalister.
"Well, my dears," said poor Jane, looking round at all the eager faces,
"I'd better read your mother's letter aloud. I've read it three times to
myself, and have got over the choky business; so now I can read it aloud
without breaking down. This is what your mother says, children. If I
stand up, my loves, you'll all hear it better."
Jane Macalister stood up at the end of the long table. All the children
dropped their spoons, and knives, and forks, as they listened to her.
"MY DEAR JANE," she began.
Here she paused.
"Your mother and I," she said, "have been Jane and Lucy to each other
ever since we were children."
"Who cares about that rot now?" murmured angry Kitty. Harry gave her a
pinch which make her scream.
"You shut up," she said back to him. "I must say something or I'll
'splode."
"MY DEAR JANE," continued the governess,
"I must ask you to break the news as you best can to the poor
children. The Squire and I have done all that lay in the power of
mortals to avert the blow. But it has been God's will that we
should not succeed. You can tell Molly by-and-by how it is that her
dear father has got into such terrible money difficulties, but now
the all-important thing for the children to know is this.... The
Towers is sold, and we must all go away from the dear home we have
loved so long. The Squire is terribly upset, and cannot bring
himself to come back just at once, but I am returning to-morrow.
There is nothing for us now but to bear up and make the best of
things. It is not so hard on any of us as it is on the
Squire.--Believe me, dear Jane, your affectionate friend,
"LUCY LORRIMER."
There was dead silence after the letter had been read. Then quite
suddenly the terrible and unexpected sound of Nell's weeping filled the
room.
"Oh, father," sobbed Nell. "Oh, father's face; oh, father's face."
She hid her head on Molly's shoulder and moaned in the most
broken-hearted way. Boris, too, looked very pale. He remembered the
pressure of the hand which had held his the night before. He heard the
words which were commonplace enough, once again, and he saw the haggard
lines round the lips and round the kindly eyes.
Boris slipped away from his own side of the table. He went up to Nell
and began to kiss her.
"I know," he said. "I understand. I saw him, too; but he'll be all right
by-and-by. It's like a big battle, but he'll not flinch; father's made
of the stuff that soldiers have in them. He'll be all right by-and-by."
"I wish you'd let me look at that letter, Jane Macalister," said Guy.
Guy was the heir of the Towers. It was his property and all his future,
which that letter seemed suddenly to deprive him of. He was the last boy
in the world to think first of himself; but now his head did feel a
little dizzy. If, it seemed to him up to this moment, there was a solid
fact in all the world, it was that in due time he should step into his
father's shoes and become Squire Lorrimer of the Towers.
Molly instantly understood the tone of Guy's voice. She started up, and
going to Jane took the letter; then she went to Guy, and put her arm
round his neck.
"Let's come into the garden and read it together," she said.
He stumbled up and went with her as if he were blind. They went out
through the open window and down the lawn, and Molly read the letter
aloud once again.
"Well, it's all up," she said when she had finished. "I have been
expecting it for a long time--a long time; haven't you, Guy?"
"No," answered Guy. "That's the awful part to me; it's such a sudden
blow. I knew, of course, there were money difficulties; but, then,
somehow or other, most fellows' fathers seem to have got them; and I was
so busy with my books and keeping ahead of the other fellows in form
that I didn't fret specially. I never wanted to think of myself
specially; but sometimes the thought used to cross my mind that there
might be a difficulty about my going to Cambridge by-and-by, and, of
course, I knew that Eton was quite out of the question; but that was
the worst, the very worst, that I thought could happen to me, and
now--now."
"Poor Guy," said Molly. "You'll never be Squire Lorrimer of the Towers."
"Oh, of course, that doesn't matter," said Guy, in a would-be careless
tone. "They can never take my real birthright from me. I'm the son of a
gentleman, and I come of the real old stock. It's thinking of father
that floors me, though, Molly. Why, this will just kill him."
"I'm awfully anxious about him," said Molly.
"How did he contrive to get into a scrape of this sort? I'm sure we
never were extravagant; we didn't care a bit what we wore nor what we
ate; and I know the grammar school at Nortonbury is cheap enough, and I
really don't think Jane Macalister gets ten pounds a year. I'm sure she
never has a new rag to her back; and as to you girls, of course I'm not
blind; but if you were dressed like other fellows' sisters, you and Nora
would look far and away the prettiest girls in the place."
"No, no, that's humbug," said downright Molly. "I'm not a bit pretty,
and what's more I don't want to be. Of course, Nora is different. I
acknowledge that she has a beautiful face."
"And you acknowledge another thing," said Guy; "that very little money
has been spent. How in the world has father got into this scrape?"
"Well, of course, we can't understand that," said Molly; "only I think I
can guess a little bit. Of course, these are bad times for all
landlords, and half the farmers don't pay their rents properly; and you
remember, Guy, last autumn, the lease of the Sunny Side farm fell in,
and father hasn't been able to let it since, because the whole place is
so fearfully out of repair that no one will take it until it is put in
order; but the real thing which has made it necessary to sell the Towers
is, that father went security a long time ago for a very large sum of
money, and all the other sureties have died or lost their money, and so
father has to pay. I know there was a great fear of that, because mother
told me of it more than a year ago. She said that father always
intended, if the worst came, to try and borrow the money. I suppose he
has failed to do so, and that must be the reason why the Towers has to
be sold."
"It's a bad business," said Guy, "and I can't realise it a bit yet; of
course we young ones must be as plucky as we can about it, that goes
without saying, but I can't take it in yet. I'm glad it's holiday time,
and I needn't go to school. I couldn't face the other fellows just for a
bit."
"I know you'll be splendid about it, Guy darling," said Molly looking
affectionately at her brother; "and now do you mind coming with me to
the Grange, for, of course, poor Nonie must be told? We won't stay there
long, for we must do what we can to help mother when she comes home."
"Yes, I'll come with you," said Guy; "we'd best start at once, it's not
too early."
"Stay where you are, then, for a moment," said Molly. "I'll run into the
house and tell them we are going."
She went back to the breakfast-room, where an animated conversation was
going on.
Nell was lying on a sofa with a shawl over her, and Jane Macalister was
sitting by her side and holding her hand. Harry, Boris, and Kitty were
standing in a little knot by the open window eagerly discussing a
subject which was causing them intense pain, and obliging them to use
many bickering words. They were feverishly anxious about the removal of
their several pets.
"I know the big rabbit will die," exclaimed Boris. "Unless we can take
the hutch which is built into the wall he'll die. He never will sleep
anywhere except in that one corner of his hutch. It makes him ill, I
know it does, to sleep anywhere else. He'll die if he's moved."
"No he won't die," said Kitty roundly; "rabbits have got no souls, and
you can't be affectionate and fond of a thing if you haven't got a
soul."
"Oh, what a lie," interrupted Harry; "and you mean to tell me that my
dormice aren't fond of me, and that they don't prefer me to you--you
clumsy monkey."
Kitty looked nonplussed for a moment.
"That's only because you feed them," she said then. "If you didn't feed
them, they'd love me just as well. Ah, yah; who's right? You can't
answer me now, can you? It's only cupboard-love animals have got, and
that proves that they have no souls."
"It seems to me," said Harry, in a would-be sarcastic voice, "that very
much the same thing may be said of some girls. Who caught you stealing a
peach a week ago? Ha, ha, Miss Kitty."
"Oh, for pity's sake, children, don't quarrel," exclaimed Molly.
"That's what I'm telling 'em," said Boris in a tearful voice; "and I
think my big rabbit _has_ a soul, and I'm awful 'feared it will kill him
if he leaves his corner of the hutch."
"Jane," interrupted Molly, "Guy and I are going over to the Grange to
tell poor Nora about mother's letter, but we'll both be home before
mother returns."
"Very well, my dear," replied Jane Macalister. "You'd better not have
Nora back, though, Molly, for she's quite certain not to be sensible
about matters, and that's the only thing left to us now. For heaven's
sake, I say, let us keep our senses and not give way to sentiment at a
crisis like this. Go, my dear; tell her that she must take it in a
quiet, matter-of-fact way, and not consider herself in the very least.
The Squire and your mother, and Guy are the three victims; the rest of
us are of no consequence; go, Molly."
Jane blew her nose very hard after uttering this oration, and there were
suspicious red rims round her eyes.
Molly joined Guy, and they started on their walk to the Grange.
Guy had now quite got over the stunned feeling which oppressed him.
There was a great deal of grit in all the Lorrimers, and Guy and Molly
had both even a larger amount of this most valuable quality than the
younger children. The ground, therefore, no longer swam under the brave
boy's feet, and Molly, now that she was obliged to act, and now that she
knew exactly what was going to happen, felt really less unhappy than
before the blow had fallen.
It was little after ten o clock when the children reached the Grange.
They found Hester and Annie out in the garden picking flowers, and Nora,
looking very happy and very pretty in her new pink cambric, was lying
under a shady tree on the lawn.
"Hullo, what have you come over so early for?" she asked of the two,
as, dusty and hot, they came up to her side. Mrs. Willis was sitting
near Nora, and reading aloud to her. Nora felt immensely flattered by
her attentions, and yet at the same time not absolutely at home with
her. Mrs. Willis could read character at a glance. She had taken an
immense fancy to Molly, and pitied Nora without admiring her.
"She is a shallow little thing," she murmured to herself. "Pretty, of
course, but nothing will ever make her either great or wise. Sweet Molly
is one of the angels of the world."
She rose now to greet the brother and sister as they approached. The
trouble round Guy's handsome eyes was not lost upon her. Poor Molly
looked untidy, and quite worn and old.
"Oh, how the ball has fagged you!" exclaimed Nora; "see how fresh I am,
and kind Mrs. Willis is reading me a charming story."
"I won't read any more at present, my dear," said Mrs. Willis, "as no
doubt your brother and sister want to talk to you."
"Oh, I'm sure they don't," said Nora; "they can't have anything at all
particular to say, and I am so immensely interested. I want to know how
Lucile conquered her difficulties with the French grammar. I have such a
fellow feeling for her, for I always detest grammar. Please, Mrs.
Willis, don't go away."
"I'll come back presently," said Mrs. Willis; she crossed the lawn as
she spoke, leaving the fascinating book open on Nora's sofa.
"How tiresome of you both to come and interrupt," said Nora in her
crossest tone. "Molly, you look positively dishevelled; and Guy, you
needn't wear those worn-out tennis shoes when you come to the Grange.
You really, neither of you, have the least idea of what is due to our
position."
"Our position be hanged," growled Guy. "Look here, we have come to say
something, and as it's particularly unpleasant, you had better listen as
quietly as you can."
"Then I'm sure I don't want to hear it; I hate and detest unpleasant
things. You know I do, don't you, Molly?"
"Yes, darling," said Molly, kneeling down by her; "but sometimes bad
things must come and we must be brave and bear them."
She knelt down by Nora as she spoke, and laid her hot, and not too clean
hand, on Nora's pretty fresh sleeve.
"I do think its unkind of you to rumple up my frock like that," said
Nora; "if you don't care to look nice, I do, and if you've got
unpleasant news, you shouldn't tell it to me; for the doctor says that
I'm not to be worried at present. I'm getting well nicely, but I'll be
thrown back awfully if I'm worried."
"That can't be helped," said Guy in a firm voice. "Sometimes unpleasant
things have to be borne. It's no worse for you than for the others."
"Oh, Nonie, Nonie," sobbed Molly, burying her head on her sister's
shoulder; "it's this, it's this: Guy, you mustn't be cruel; remember she
is weak. Nora, darling, we wouldn't tell you if we could help it, but
you must know, because everyone else will know. The Towers is sold. The
dear old home is ours no longer. We are not the Lorrimers of the Towers
any more."