MOLLY'S SORROW.
Hester was a good deal astonished that same day, when, just before
dinner, Annie Forest came up to her with a request.
"I don't want to dine here to-night," she said. "I want to go to the
Towers to have a good long talk with Molly."
"But, really, Annie," replied Hester, "is it necessary for you to go
to-night? I did not know--I mean I did not think that--that you and
Molly----"
"That we were special friends?" interrupted Annie. "Oh, yes, we are
quite friendly enough for the little talk I mean to have. You'll spare
me, won't you, Hetty, and if Molly offers me a bed, I'll sleep there and
be back quite early in the morning."
"I can't refuse you, of course," said Hester, "but that won't prevent my
missing you. It will be rather a dreadful dinner party, with only Mrs.
Bernard Temple and Antonia and that dreadful, sleepy Susy. You are so
full of tact and so bright, Annie, that you generally make matters go
off fairly well. But to-night there won't be anyone to stem the current.
Oh, dear, I do trust that Antonia won't talk _too_ much high art."
As Hester spoke, she looked at her friend with an expression of great
anxiety on her face. Under ordinary circumstances this look would have
completely overmastered Annie, who would immediately have yielded up
her own wishes to please Hester, but now she remained quite obdurate.
"I am sure you will manage very well," she said, in an almost hard voice
for her. "You know, Hetty, you won't always have me, and you will have
Mrs. Bernard Temple and Antonia."
"It is too dreadful," sighed Hester. "When my father thought of marrying
again, why did he not think of someone more congenial?"
"I suppose Mrs. Bernard Temple is congenial to him," replied Annie, "and
that he doubtless considers of the first importance. After all, Hetty,
I'm sure she will let you have your own way in everything, and I don't
really think that Antonia is half bad. If I were you I would try and
make friends with her."
"It is not in my nature to make friends easily," replied Hester.
She was standing in her pretty bedroom as she spoke, and Annie was
leaning by the open window, swinging her garden hat in her hand.
"Hester," she said, suddenly, "forgive me if I ask you rather a rude
question. Is your father a very rich man?"
Hester looked surprised.
"I suppose so," she answered; "to tell the truth, I have never thought
about it. Oh, yes, I conclude that he is quite well off."
"But I want him to be more than well off. Is he rich--very rich? so rich
that he would not miss a lot of money if he had suddenly to--to lose
it?"
"What a very queer question to ask me, Annie," replied Hester. "I am
really afraid I cannot reply to it. I think my father must be rich, but
I don't know if he is rich enough to be able to afford to lose a lot of
money--I don't think anyone is rich enough for that."
"Oh, yes, some people are," answered Annie. "Well, good-bye, Hetty, keep
up your heart. I'll be back early to-morrow morning."
"I must get that question of Sir John Thornton's wealth clearly answered
somehow or other," thought Annie, "for there is no manner of use in
Antonia stirring up a lot of mischief if there is no money to be found.
I wonder if nursey could help me. I think I'll just have a word with her
before I go to the Towers."
Mrs. Martin was alone when Annie entered the room.
"Well, my dear, and why ain't you at dinner?" asked the old woman. She
was still fond of Annie, whom she invariably spoke of as "a winsome
young body," but recent events had soured her considerably, and as she
herself expressed it, the keenest pleasure now left to her in life was
to "mope and mutter."
"Moping and muttering eases the mind," she said; "it's a wonderful
relief not to have to sit up straight and smiling when you feel crooked
and all of a frown."
Accordingly Mrs. Martin received Annie Forest with brief displeasure.
"I have no heart for dinner," said Annie, who took her cue at once from
the old woman's face. "I know you are miserable, Nurse Martin, but you
need not look at me so scornfully, for I am trying to mend matters."
"You," exclaimed nurse, "a child like you! Now, Miss Annie, I would try
and talk sensibly, I would, really."
"Well, I'm going off to the Towers for the night," said Annie, "and if
you weren't so cross I'd like to say good-bye and give you a kiss before
I started."
"Eh, dear," replied nurse, her countenance visibly softening however;
"kisses, however sweet they be, don't heal sore places."
"But you'll take one, won't you, nursey?"
"Eh, my bairn, you have a winsome way, but don't you come canoodling me
now, when my heart is like to break about my own dear children; and the
young ladies at the Towers, too, in such a muck of trouble."
"Dear nursey," exclaimed Annie; "dear, loving, faithful, true-hearted
nursey."
She stroked the old woman's brow and rubbed her soft cheek against hers.
"Out with it now, my pet," said Nurse Martin. "What is it you want me to
do? If it's the pawn-shop again--once for all, no, I won't."
"It isn't the pawn-shop," said Annie; "it's just to ask you a simple
question. I asked Hester, but she couldn't tell me. Is Sir John Thornton
a rich man?"
"Is he rich?" echoed nurse; "do you think _she'd_ be after him if he
wasn't?"
"I don't know. Is he rich, nursey?"
"Yes, he's rich," replied nurse.
"Very, very rich? Dear Nurse Martin, please say yes."
"He's rich," replied nurse in an emphatic voice. "He has got his gold
and his lands, and not a debt anywhere, and small expenses compared to
his means. Yes, he's rich. More shame to him for taking the money from
Miss Hester and Miss Nan to provide a new wife and an outlandish
stepdaughter."
"If he lost a lot of money, a great lot, would he be a beggar?" pursued
Annie.
"Well, really, Miss Annie, it isn't for me to say; but I think it would
be a very big sum that would beggar Sir John. What are you after, Miss?
I don't understand you at all."
"I'm thinking of the outlandish stepdaughter," replied Annie.
"Oh, Miss Annie Forest, don't name her to me. She turns my heart sick.
Its in an asylum she should be. The messes she carries about with her,
and the dress she wears, and the whole look of her! It isn't fit for
Miss Hester and Miss Nan to have anything to do with her."
"You don't know her yet," replied Annie. "She has beautiful thoughts and
grand resolves."
"Preserve me from 'em," said nurse. "There, now, miss, if you re going,
you'd better go. I don't want to hear anything more about that girl, for
lady she ain't."
"Good-bye, nurse," said Annie. "I am glad you are certain that Sir John
Thornton is rich."
"I'd be glad if I was as certain that Miss Hester and Miss Nan were
going to be happy," replied the old woman.
Annie blew a kiss to her and ran away.
The task Antonia had set her was quite to her heart. If, in addition to
helping the Lorrimers, she could by this means get out of her own
scrape, why, so much the better. It was one of Annie's gifts to be able
to discriminate character with great nicety; and while Antonia spoke to
her, she acknowledged a sudden respect and even admiration for the
power which this queer girl possessed.
It was almost night when Annie set off on her walk across the fields to
the Towers. She could not help singing to herself as she skipped lightly
over the ground. She felt somehow, she could scarcely tell why, as if a
great load had been lifted off her mind. One part of Antonia's mission
she had already accomplished. She had found out from a very trustworthy
source that Sir John Thornton was really a rich man. The second half of
her task, the discovery of the present address of Squire Lorrimer, would
surely not be impossible of fulfilment.
The Lorrimer children were out as usual. Whenever was a Lorrimer within
doors, when he or she could be out? When Annie approached they were
dismally employed, for Harry had inaugurated weekly meetings of the feud
during the remainder of their stay at the Towers; and the children were
now dancing solemnly round the bonfire, and repeating the solemn dirge
which was to work evil consequences to the new-comers. Harry was
spokesman on the occasion. He repeated the words to a sort of chanting
air, and all the others repeated them after him with immense unction and
smacking of lips. Kitty said afterwards that the dirge made her feel
nearly as bloodthirsty as a Red Indian, and Boris openly wished that he
could live in a wigwam and wear scalps.
Annie's appearance on the scene diverted the whole party, and Boris
eagerly asked her if she would like to become a member of the feud.
"I would immensely," replied Annie; "but it wouldn't be of any use, as
I'm not a Lorrimer."
"I could marry you, and then you'd be one," said Boris, looking up at
her with a great shining light in his eyes.
"So you could, you sweet," said Annie, bending down and kissing him,
"and the day I marry you I faithfully promise to join the feud; but I
must run off now to find Molly."
"She's somewhere in the tower packing books," screamed Kitty after her.
Accordingly Annie pursued her way round to that part of the house.
The tower was at least two hundred years older than the rest of the
mansion, and, as Annie ran up the spiral stairs, she had to feel her way
through thick darkness, for the Lorrimers never thought of spending
money on illuminating the stairs and passages of this ancient building.
A dim light in the distance presently guided her steps, and she soon
found herself standing, out of breath and a good deal blown, in the
presence of Molly and Jane Macalister. They were both clothed from head
to foot in long brown-holland aprons. Jane was vigorously dusting and
brushing a heap of dilapidated books, which Molly was arranging in
orderly piles on the floor. Jane looked up when she saw Annie and
uttered a little scream.
"Now, what have you come about?" she said; "you see we are quite up to
our eyes in work."
"Delightful," said Annie; "I'll help. Toss me an apron, Molly, do."
Off went Annie's hat, on went the brown-holland apron, and Jane found
that she had secured a valuable assistant in the matter of dusting and
brushing.
[Illustration: PACKING THE BOOKS (_p._ 240).]
The work went on for two or three minutes in silence, then Molly said,
"I hope there's nothing the matter with Nora, Annie? It seems so very
late for you to come to pay us a visit."
"I have come here to stay for the night, if I may," replied Annie.
"Hoots! I don't know if that will be possible," interrupted Jane.
"Oh, I'll sleep anywhere; I'm not a bit particular. I want to talk to
you, Molly; I've a great deal to say."
"There's no use in girls wasting their time with silly havering when
work has to be done," snapped Jane. "I'm willing to grant that a heavy
misfortune has come to this house, but come rain or sunshine the daily
round _must_ go on. Pass me that clean duster, Molly. These books have
to be sorted and put in boxes before we either of us lie down to-night."
"But three pairs of hands make lighter work than two," rejoined Annie.
"I'm willing to help; I mean to help; I am helping. Molly, pass me a
duster, too. I'll talk to you, Molly, when the work is over."
"That's the time for sleep," said Jane.
"Oh, come, Jane, if Annie wants to talk to me, she must," said Molly in
an almost fretful tone. "There's plenty of room for you in my bed,
Annie, so that matter is settled; now let us fly along with the books."
Jane did not utter another word of remonstrance. In her inmost heart she
had a great admiration for Annie, whom she always spoke of as a "bonny,
capable lassie." The books were all sorted and packed in a little over
an hour, and then the girls went downstairs to supper in the great hall.
Supper consisted of porridge and milk, followed by great dishes of
stewed fruit. The children all sat round a table, and Mrs. Lorrimer,
with the air of a royal matron, dispensed the simple food.
Immediately afterwards, Annie slipped her hand through Molly's arm, and
drew her out of doors on to the moonlit lawn.
"I can't wait another moment," she said. "I've oceans of things to ask
you."
"I suppose you have come over on some special business," replied Molly.
"Has Hester sent me a message?"
"No; Hester has had nothing to do with it. I came over because I really
want a talk with you all by myself. I cannot tell you what I thought
to-day when that dreadful Susy Drummond came with her sort of 'take
possession' style into the house."
"And do you really imagine," answered Molly, "that Miss Drummond annoyed
us in any way? for if you do you are greatly mistaken. We are in great
trouble just now about father, and about dear Guy being cut out of his
rightful inheritance, and naturally we shall all feel leaving the
Towers, but if you think that girl makes any difference one way or
other, you are quite wrong."
Annie was silent for a moment. Then she said in a low voice, "I'm glad
you don't mind her; she would try me a good bit. How soon have you got
to leave, Molly?"
"Mother would like us to be out in a month," replied Molly. "Mr.
Drummond does not take possession for over five weeks, but mother thinks
that when a very painful thing has to be done, the sooner it is over the
better. And she has almost taken a roomy old cottage on the edge of
Sharsted Common. She says the children must not be cooped up in a town
house, and they will have plenty of room to run about on the common, and
as Nortonbury is only a mile away, Guy and Harry can still go to school
there."
"And will you still stay at home, Molly?"
"I don't know, all the future is a complete blank. I am not educated
according to modern ideas, and I love my own people so deeply that it
would be agony to leave them. At the same time, I know some of us must
go away, for we shall be very poor; we'll have no money at all except
the income from mother's little fortune, and that will go a small way. I
have asked mother to let us do without a servant, for I quite love
housework. But really, Annie, everything at present is simply in chaos."
"It is good of you to tell me," said Annie, in her caressing voice. "You
know I am poor myself, and I dearly love poor people; they are fifty
times more interesting than rich ones. Fancy what zest is added to life
when you have to contrive and scrape, and patch and fit every one of
your dresses."
"As to that," replied Molly, "I don't in the least care what I wear; but
I must frankly say that patched and contrived dresses are, as a rule,
very ugly. Now shall we come into the house?"
"Not yet," replied Annie; "it is lovely out. Let us take another turn
just here in the moonlight. Have you heard anything about the Squire
lately, Molly? Is he likely to come back to the Towers soon?"
"No; I'm afraid he won't come at all. The sudden necessity which obliged
him to sell the old home has had the strangest effect upon him. We are
very anxious about him--very, very unhappy. The state of his health is
our keenest grief."
"And do you know where he is?"
"Oh, yes, in London. Mother writes to him to his club."
"It seems a great pity that he should be alone there," said Annie. "I
wonder your mother likes to leave him."
"Mother is only carrying out his wishes. He has absolutely refused to
come back to the Towers. He says he may come after we have all gone, but
not before. I cannot tell you, Annie, how miserable we are about him. He
is completely altered. He used to be the tenderest, the most unselfish
of fathers, and now the whole burden of everything is put on poor
mother's shoulders."
"What is the name of his club?" asked Annie.
"The Carlton."
"Have none of you any influence over him?"
"Nell has the most. She is a strange child, and has a way of seeing down
into the very heart of things. Where her interests are aroused, she has
such intense sympathy that it gives her wonderful tact. If father were
at home, I believe Nell could manage him; but where is the use of
talking? He is away, and we none of us can move him by letter or
otherwise. Mother hopes that when we are really settled at the cottage,
he will return; but oh, dear--oh, dear--I believe the changed life will
shorten his days. There, Annie, I never thought to confide in you, but
you see I have done so. Now let us come indoors."