THE NEW OWNERS.
It is surprising how soon, at least when we are young, the greater
number of us get accustomed to things. The news of the sale of the
Towers, and of Sir John Thornton's approaching marriage, had electrified
the Lorrimers and the Thorntons on Thursday. Had electrified them to
such a degree that even the common observances of life seemed queer and
out of place. It seemed wrong to eat when one was hungry; inhuman to
smile; and even when one was sleepy, it seemed necessary to go to bed
with a sort of apology. Nevertheless, the hungry people had to be fed,
smiles had now and then to chase away tears, and in youthful slumber
sorrow was for a time forgotten.
By Saturday life was going on much as usual in the two households. The
Lorrimers were not to leave the Towers for six weeks. There was no
immediate necessity, therefore, for the younger members of the
household to think about moving the pets. Six weeks seemed something
like for ever to them. The anxious consultations of the elders were not
shared by them. Mother had come home, and mother kissed them just as
tenderly as ever at night, and petted them just as much in the morning,
and coddled them just as persistently when there was the least scrap of
anything the matter. Whenever they went away, mother would go with them,
and that, after all, was the main thing. In their secret hearts, they
became rather excited about the move, the packing, and the new home.
Boris, it is true, sometimes woke at night with a start and a hot
remembrance of the clutch the Squire had given his hand when he stood
under the oak tree, and Nell sobbed out piteously once or twice, "Oh,
father's face, oh, father's face;" but father was not with them and
mother was, and the sun rose and set as usual, and the fruit ripened in
great plenty, and the pets were all well, and it was holiday time, and
mother earth was specially tranquilising and kind. By Saturday, Boris,
Kitty, and Nell were to all appearance just as they were before, and
even the elder members of the family behaved, as Jane Macalister
expressed it, "like sensible Christians."
In the Thornton household, too, the first overwhelming shock of Sir
John's approaching marriage had passed by. Nan had stormed and raged,
and flung her arms round nurse's neck, and sobbed herself at last to
sleep on her breast, but Nan's passion was over now, and she was even a
little curious to see what sort of woman Mrs. Bernard Temple was, and
what sort of girl Antonia would be. Hester, whether her heart was heavy
or light, was forced to attend to many household cares, and Annie was
happy once more, for Mrs. Willis had not yet asked her for the ring.
Mrs. Willis had yielded to Hester's strong entreaties to remain at the
Grange until Monday. She was deeply interested in the Lorrimers, and was
most anxious to help Molly in any way in her power; she was also
desirous of seeing Hetty through the difficult ordeal of her first
introduction to her future stepmother; she resolved, therefore, at some
personal sacrifice, to prolong her visit at the Grange for a few days.
No events less absorbing would have made her forget the ring. The
exciting events of Thursday had, however, put it completely out of her
head. On Friday, it is true, she did think of it, but Annie was not
present at the time, and she now resolved not to trouble herself to have
the ring copied, but to buy another present for her ex-pupil.
Annie knew nothing of this intention, but delay had made her bold, and,
as usual, she had great faith in her own good luck.
On Saturday morning Sir John contributed vastly to the excitement and
interest of the party by a certain piece of news which he read aloud to
them from a letter he had just received from Mrs. Bernard Temple.
"My dear Hester," he said, looking down the length of the table at his
daughter, "did not you once tell me that you had a schoolfellow at
Lavender House of the name of Susan Drummond?"
"Sleepy Susy," exclaimed Hester with a smile. "I had almost forgotten
her, although she managed to worry me a good deal at school. She was my
room-mate for the first couple of terms. Oh, dear, oh, dear, shall I
ever forget the trouble we used to have to wake her?"
"She left Lavender House a good many years ago; what of her?" exclaimed
Mrs. Willis; "the fact is, I have quite lost sight of her."
"And so have I," said Hester; "frankly, I did not care about remembering
her."
"Well, whether you like it or not, you are likely to hear a good deal
more of her now," said Sir John, "for Susan's father is the new owner of
the Towers, and Mrs. Bernard Temple wants to know if she may bring Susan
as well as Antonia to-day, as Susan is naturally most anxious to see her
new home. Have we a vacant bedroom, Hester?"
"Oh, yes," replied Hester, "but it seems----"
"What, my dear?"
"Nothing, father--only--but----"
"But me no buts," replied Sir John in a tone of irritation. "Nothing can
be more natural than a young girl's wish to see her future home. I shall
telegraph to Mrs. Bernard Temple to let her know that we shall be
pleased to give Miss Drummond a hearty welcome."
Sir John rose from his chair as he spoke, and a moment later left the
room.
"Poor Nora," exclaimed Hester, when the door had closed behind him.
"Susy is certain to say something to hurt her dreadfully, for unless she
has tremendously altered, I never saw a creature with less tact."
"We must hope for the best," said Mrs. Willis. "I am rather glad, my
dear," she added, "that I am here, for I think Miss Susy will be on her
best behaviour in my presence."
"Well, I think it's the most awful thing that ever happened," exclaimed
Nan. "Fancy having a sleepy thing like that at the Towers, instead of
Nell and Kitty and Boris."
The girls discussed the matter a little further, and then Hester went
away to attend to Nora.
The shock of Molly's intelligence had really affected Nora to an almost
painful degree. Her nerves had been terribly shaken by her serious fall,
and she was so restless and miserable for the first twenty-four hours
after the stunning blow had been given to her that the beloved Towers
was no longer her home, that a doctor had to be sent for, who ordered
her a soothing draught, and said that she ought to be kept extremely
quiet.
By this time, however, Nora was not only better, but much interested in
the strange new outlook. She had found her life often dull enough in the
dear old home--for it was by this term she now invariably spoke of the
Towers--she had longed to flutter her little wings in a larger and gayer
world--she had fancied the small triumphs which might be hers, and had
believed much in the charms of her own pretty face. She had dreamed
dreams of herself in society, and felt sure that the fact of her being a
Lorrimer of the Towers would insure her a passport into any circle. Now,
of course, matters would be different, but still the new life must be,
at least, more interesting than the old. It would be impossible any
longer to have nothing to do in the day except to learn rather
old-fashioned lessons under the tutorship of Jane Macalister, to
contrive to dress out of almost nothing at all, and to listen for ever
to Molly's slow talk about ways and means, and the children's chatter
over their pets. Nora looked ahead with interest. She was sorry for
Hester, of course, but she thought it would be very delightful to meet
Mrs. Bernard Temple and Antonia, and even the news that Susan Drummond
was coming, and that Susy's father was now the owner of the Towers,
scarcely disturbed her equanimity.
"It's very kind of you to break it to me, Hetty," she said; "but of
course I knew that someone had bought the Towers, and why not Mr.
Drummond as well as another?"
"Why not, truly," replied Hester; "I am glad you are so sensible, Nora.
I'll send Annie to you as soon as ever I can. Now I must run away, as
there is a great deal to be done."
"How pale you look," said Nora, touched with a feeling of compunction at
an indescribable something in Hester's face and voice. "Are you really,
really fretting?"
"No, I hope not," replied Hester; "but I am really, really fighting, and
that is hard work; now I must be off."
She left the room in a hurry, and as she went away to interview the
housekeeper, some tears gathered in her eyes.
"Dear, dear Molly," she murmured to herself; "how very different she is
from Nora; oh, how I wish Susy was not going to be settled at the
Towers, it seems to be quite the last straw. 'As well Mr. Drummond as
another,' says Nora; ah, but she would not say that if she really knew
Susy."
The remaining hours which were to intervene before the arrival of the
guests passed swiftly by. Sir John went alone in the landau to
Nortonbury to meet them. An omnibus was sent for the luggage and for
Mrs. Bernard Temple's and Miss Drummond's maids. Nan, flushed, excited,
and defiant, stood in her white dress on the steps; Hester, also in
white, stood by her little sister and held her hand with a firm
pressure.
"Keep quiet, Nan--do keep quiet, for my sake," she whispered once in an
emphatic voice.
"I'll vent it on Susy Drummond," exclaimed Nan: "she's the safety valve;
I'm glad she's coming."
"Here they are," said Hester. She felt herself turning very pale, and
laid her other hand on Nan's shoulder. The sound of wheels was
distinctly audible, and the next moment the landau with its four
occupants bowled rapidly up to the door. Mrs. Bernard Temple was all
smiles and bows. She was a graceful, well-preserved woman, handsomely
and fashionably dressed. Although the same age as Sir John, she looked
years younger. Antonia was a dark-eyed, sallow-faced girl, difficult to
say anything about at the first glance, and Susy Drummond was the
well-known Susy Drummond of Lavender House. A little taller, a little
fatter, a little more sleepy-looking, if that were possible, than she
used to be in the old days, but still the Susy whom Hester had detested,
and whose departure from the school was hailed with relief by everyone.
Before anyone else could speak she now raised her full, light blue eyes,
fixed them on Hester, and drawled out, "Who would have thought of seeing
you again, Prunes and Prism?"
Hester ran down the steps accompanied by Nan. There was a confused
murmur of greeting and introduction. Mrs. Bernard Temple kissed Hester
on her forehead, called her "dear child," and looked into her eyes in a
way which made Hester long to shut them, patted Nan on her shoulder and
hoped she was a good, obliging little girl, and then, followed by
Antonia and Susy, who dropped a succession of wraps the whole way,
entered one of the drawing rooms.
"My dear John, what a perfectly _charming_ room," exclaimed Mrs. Bernard
Temple, turning to her future husband and glancing down the long room
with a critical eye. "Furniture just a _little_ out of date--not enough
Chippendale--old-fashioned, but not antique--we'll soon put that right,
however. Antonia has a wonderful eye for colour. You see, she has been
trained in an atelier in Paris."
The faintest perceptible frown might have been seen between Sir John's
eyebrows. He took no special notice of Mrs. Bernard Temple's remark, but
walking up the long and exquisitely proportioned room flung open some
French windows which led into a flower garden, gay with every imaginable
flower. There was a distant and very lovely view from this window.
"I think you will admire the landscape from this window," he said,
turning and speaking with an air of great deference to his distinguished
guest.
"In one moment, my love," she replied. "Antonia, what do you think of
old gold curtains, and one of those dark olive-green papers for the
walls? This light decoration is absolutely inadmissible."
"Old gold is quite out of date," replied Antonia, opening her lips for
the first time. "I'm sick of old gold, it's not _chic_ now. I'll look
through some of my antique designs and sketch my idea of a drawing-room
for you presently, mother; now pray attend to Sir John."
Mrs. Bernard Temple favoured her daughter with a glance which was
returned in a very frank and determined manner by that young lady. She
then sailed slowly up the room and condescended to admire the view
pointed out by Sir John.
Hester was standing near one of the windows talking to Susy, who had
already sunk into an easy chair, and was fanning herself with an
enormous black fan which hung at her girdle. Antonia, after a moment's
hesitation, came up to Hester.
"I'm very sorry we have come," she said, "but it really is not my fault.
Mother is in a state of flutter at having caught Sir John. I'm disgusted
about it all. I don't want a stepfather any more than you want a
stepmother. I'm to be turned into a fine lady now, and I hate being a
fine lady. I have a soul for art. I adore art. I'm all art. Art is
sacred; it shouldn't be talked about the way mother speaks of it. When I
was in Paris I was in my element. I wore a linen blouse all over paint;
ah, that blouse--those happy days."
"Oh, Tony," suddenly burst from Susy's lips, "for pity's sake don't go
off into a trance; you'll put Hester into a fit. Her face at the present
moment is enough to kill anyone. For goodness sake, Hester, don't look
like that; you'll make me laugh, and if I laugh immoderately it always
wakes me up. I was looking out for a little nap before tea--forty winks,
you know--I can't live without my forty winks, and now if you put on
that killingly tragic face, I'll scream with laughter, I know I shall.
Oh, dear, oh, dear, you must learn once for all never to mind a single
thing Tony says; she's the oddest, most irrational creature--a genius of
course--her pictures are simply monstrosities, which is a sure sign of
genius."
"Would you like me to take you to your room?" said Hester, turning to
Antonia when Susy had given her a moment of time to open her lips. "I'm
sure you must be tired after your long journey."
"What should tire me?" asked Antonia, opening her big brown eyes in
astonishment. "I travelled first-class from London, and drove out here
in a landau; the whole journey was nothing short of effeminate. When I
was in Paris I rose at four in the morning, and worked at my easel
standing for five hours at a stretch; that was something like work. No,
I'm not the least tired, thank you, and I don't want to be bothered
tidying myself, for I may as well say frankly that I don't care twopence
how I look."
"Tea will be ready in half an hour," said Hester. "Will you come out
into the garden, then, for a stroll?"
"If you don't hate me too much to walk with me; but pray consider your
own feelings if you do, for I don't in the least object to strolling
about alone."
Hester and Antonia had now stepped out on the velvet lawn. They each
gazed fully at the other.
"No," said Hester, speaking with a sudden swift intuition; "I don't hate
you; I rather like you. I am glad you are frank."
"Oh, I hate pretence," said Antonia, with a shudder. "Fancy a priestess
of art stooping to pretence. Well, if you don't detest me, let us walk
about for a little. Have you no wild, uncultured spot to show me, which
the hand of man has not defaced? My whole soul recoils from a velvet
lawn."
"Oh, Tony, Tony, you're too killing to live," shrieked Susy from the
other side of the window.
Antonia and Hester moved slowly away together; Hester was trying to
think of some portion of the grounds which might be sufficiently full of
weeds and thorns to satisfy the priestess of high art, and Susy lay back
in her chair and wiped her eyes.
"This is rich," she murmured to herself. "To think of poor Prunes and
Prism being thrown with Tony--to think of Tony as a sort of sister to
Prunes and Prism. Well, this is a delicious lark. Hullo! is that you,
Nan? Come along and speak to me at once, you pert puss. Why, do you know
you've grown?"
"Well, I don't suppose I've stood still for the last five years,"
replied Nan, who could be intensely pert when she pleased. "I'm too busy
to stay with you now, Susy; Nora wants me."
"Nora; who is Nora?"
"Nora Lorrimer."
"Nora Lorrimer, is she one of the Tower Lorrimers?"
"Yes; she wants me in a hurry; I must fly to her."
"Stay a moment, my dear child," Susy absolutely rose from her chair in
her strong interest. "If this girl is one of the Tower Lorrimers, I had
better know her at once; you had better bring her to me and I'll
question her."
"I can't bring her to you; she has had a fall and is lying on her back;
she can't walk."
"Dear me, what a nuisance; well, I'll go to her, then. Come along,
Nancy, show me the way this minute."
"But really, really, Susy," began Nan, raising blue, imploring eyes.
"Really, it is very sad about the Towers, you know."
"Sad; good heavens, are the drains wrong?"
"It's sad about the Lorrimers," continued Nan, stamping her foot and
growing red with anger; "we love the Lorrimers; they are our dearest,
our very, very dearest friends, and we hate their leaving the Towers.
Perhaps Nora doesn't want to see you, Susy."
"Come along," said Susy in a firm voice; "I want to see her. What
sentimental folly you talk, Nan. Squire Lorrimer was very glad indeed to
find such a purchaser as my father for his tumbledown old place."
"The Towers tumbledown!" exclaimed Nan, "the beautiful, lovely, darling
Towers! Susy, I hate you--I hate and detest you; I won't show you the
way to Nora's room, so there!"
Nan pulled her frock out of Susy's detaining hand and rushed away.
Miss Drummond stood quite still for a moment where she had been left.
Then she put up her hand to smooth her brow.
"This sort of thing would be ruffling to most people," she murmured,
"but I really don't mind. Now, shall I have my forty winks before tea,
or shall I poke round by myself until I find this blessed aggrieved
Nora? That horrid little piece of impertinence has quite woke me up, so
it's scarcely worth while to get soothed down again; I think I'll find
Nora and ask for some information which I am anxious to write to father
about, then after tea I can have a snooze until it is time to dress for
dinner. Dear, dear, they might have the politeness to have tea ready on
one's arrival. I expect my stay here will be precious slow, with their
old-fashioned, prim ideas; if it weren't for Tony I'd die, but she'd
really make a cat laugh; it will be better than a play to watch her at
dinner to-night with Sir John. Now, then, for a search for the tearful
Nora."
Susy, accordingly, in her usual ponderous, somewhat heavy mode of
progress, wandered from one room to another until at last the sound of
voices guided her to the pretty little boudoir, where Annie Forest and
Nora had taken shelter, and where Nan was now standing, pouring out her
tale of woe. A slight creak which the door made caused the girls to turn
their heads, and there stood Susy, shedding articles of her wardrobe, as
usual, as she walked. Her flaxen hair was partly unpinned and lay in a
rough coil on her fat neck. She came with elephantine weight into the
room, and ignoring Annie Forest altogether, held out a hand to Nora.
"Here I am," she said. "I'm Susy Drummond. 'Miss Susan Drummond, the
Towers,' will soon be on my visiting cards. Isn't the place very
ramshackle? Doesn't it want to be put into repair a good bit? I'm just
dying to hear all about it. Oh, and here's an American swinging-chair--I
just adore them. You don't mind if I see-saw gently while you talk to
me. Nan, I bear no malice; fetch me a footstool, love, and let me know
when tea is brought into the drawing-room. Annie, how do? I hope the
female dragon is very well." Annie flushed crimson. Only a startled look
on Nora's pretty face enabled her to control herself. She walked to the
window and looked out.
Susy blinked her sleepy eyes after her.
"Never mind," she said, winking at Nora, "it's an old feud which I
buried--I'm the most forgiving creature in Christendom--but if she
chooses to dig up the hatchet, I can't help her. I always called that
detestable Mrs. Willis the she-dragon. You don't know her, I suppose?
You're in luck, I can tell you. Thank you, Nan, for the footstool. Now,
this is most comfortable. You'll begin to tell me all you can about the
Towers, won't you?" she continued, bending slightly forward and laying
her fat hand on Nora's slim white arm; "and so you really are a
Lorrimer? How profoundly interesting."
Nora fidgeted restlessly on her sofa.
"I'm a Lorrimer," she said at last in a steady voice. "I--I don't think
I can tell you about the Towers; you'll probably go and see the place
for yourself, either to-morrow or Monday."
"I shall certainly go to-morrow, and at an early hour, too; my father is
most anxious to get my opinion on it."
"Well, then, you'll see it for yourself."
"So I shall--quite true, little Miss Rosebud; but, nevertheless, there
is such a thing as curiosity, which, doubtless, you can gratify. Now,
let's begin. I'm nothing if I'm not practical. How many bedrooms are
there?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know? Are you simple? Have not you lived there all your
life?"
"I have, but I don't really know. Perhaps if I count I can tell you.
First, in the Tower, there's Jane Macalister's room, and Boris sleeps
near her, and then there's Kitty--she has a room to herself--it's rather
small, but she's immensely proud of it, and there's Nell and--"
Susy suddenly clapped her hands to her ears.
"For goodness sake stop," she exclaimed. "What do I care for your
Macalisters, and Boris's, and Kittys? I want to know how many bedrooms
there are--ten, twelve, twenty, thirty? Can't you count?"
"Yes, perfectly," replied Nora with spirit; "but I never troubled myself
to count the number of bedrooms at the Towers; you can do so for
yourself when you go to see it to-morrow."
"Thanks for nothing. If I'm anything I'm practical, and I shall not only
count the bedrooms to-morrow, but measure them also. I shall take a
measuring tape with me, and my maid Linette and a foot measure."
"How pleasant for Linette to be sandwiched between a measuring tape and
a foot measure," exclaimed Annie, turning round from her position at the
window and speaking for the first time.
Susy favoured her with a slow glance of intense dislike. Slightly
turning her back she proceeded with her catechism of Nora.
"At least you can say something about the drawing-rooms. How many feet
long is the principal drawing-room?"
Before poor Nora could reply, the door of the room was slowly opened and
Mrs. Willis, with her usual calm, strong face, entered.
Susy Drummond gave such a start of dismayed surprise that Annie forgave
her a good many of her sins on the spot.
Mrs. Willis came up to her and held out her hand.
"How do you do?" she said. "Sir John Thornton told us this morning at
breakfast that we might have the pleasure of meeting you here. Are you
well?"
"Oh, yes, I'm--I'm quite well, ma'am," replied Susy, stammering out her
words in hopeless confusion.
"Nora, dear, you are looking very tired," continued Mrs. Willis. "I
propose to have tea with you here alone, and to read to you for a little
afterwards. Annie, will you take Miss Drummond to the drawing-room? I
saw the tea equipage being taken in as I passed."
Susy shambled out of the room in Annie's wake.