tried hard to smile; but the prospect seemed so dull--oh, so heart-
breakingly dull!--after the rosy dreams of the past, that what was meant
as comfort proved, after all, the last strain which was to break down
her composure.
She threw up her hands to her face, and rocked to and fro in an
abandonment of distress.
"Oh--oh, the days, and weeks, and months! They will be so long; I can't
realise it yet, but I know how I shall suffer. Oh, Nan, isn't it hard,
after being so happy--after feeling so sure? I never had a doubt all
these years except just this last week, and then I thought it was my own
foolish imagining;--and now to have it end like this! I can't believe
it! Are you sure, are you quite sure? It seems like a hideous
mistake!"
Nan shook her head, and her face hardened.
"There's no mistake on my part, but there's one on his, and a big one
too. He'll find it out, that's one comfort! He'll suffer for it! If
he thinks Lilias is going to be the sort of wife he needs, he'll find
out his mistake. He thinks himself well off because he has a few
hundreds a year, and is as proud as a king because he has a house of his
own in a dull little country town. Lilias's ideas of poverty and his of
wealth will come to much the same thing. She hates the country, and
flies off to town at the least excuse. Ned is quiet and book-wormy; and
she wants some one who is fond of life, and likes gadding about. They
don't suit each other in any one way that I can see, and before a year
is over they will have found it out for themselves. Then he will be
sorry!"
Maud cut her short with uplifted hand.
"Don't, Nan; you make it worse! You mean to be kind, but it doesn't
comfort me to think that he will be disappointed. I love him, you see;
and I can't change in a moment because I discover that he doesn't care
for me. I want him to be happy. It would make me more miserable than
ever if I thought it was a mistake. You are too hard on Lilias. She is
very sweet and amiable, and if she really loves him she will not mind
little things like that. We never spoke about him together, she and I,
and she has only done what I did myself. No one is to blame--no one!
It was my own foolish mistake, and I must bear the consequences."
"You are an angel, and too good to live!" cried Nan, with a gulp. "I
blame everybody, and myself worst of all. Prided myself on being sharp-
sighted, and couldn't save you from a blow like this! ... Maud, you
don't want to go home? You would rather not see him this morning?
Mother said she would give no definite answer before talking to father,
but would let him see Lilias for half an hour, and then pack him off by
the midday train. She was going to tell him that under the
circumstances she would prefer that he did not stay to lunch, so there
would seem nothing strange about it if you and I were not back before he
left."
"No," agreed Maud softly. She drew her watch from her belt and looked
at the hour. "Perhaps you are right, Nan. It would be better not to
try my strength too much this morning. In a day or two I shall have
gained a little courage, but this morning I--I've had rather a shock,
and feel weak and nervous. We will sit here and wait until he is gone."
"Wouldn't you rather come for a walk? The time seems so long when you
are sitting still. A nice brisk walk through the woods!" suggested Nan
insinuatingly; but Maud drew back with a quiver of pain.
"No, no! Not this morning! I should remember it always. Every step of
the path would bring back this wretched day in the future, and I do so
love the woods. Let me keep them free from association, at least. It
will be bad enough to dread this road, as I always shall after this."
"Just as you like, dear, just as you like; but what will you do? You
can't sit still and think all the time!"
"I'll make up my accounts," said Maud simply; and, despite her sister's
cry of protest, she insisted on doing as she said. Pencil and note-book
came out of her pocket, and one item after another of the morning's
shopping was jotted down, and the result compared with the change in the
housekeeping purse.
How could she do it? Nan tried to imagine how she herself would have
acted in similar circumstances, and felt her heart beat fast at the
possibility. Rage, storm, despair; drown herself in the nearest stream;
lie down beneath the express train; bid farewell to the world, and
retire into a nunnery. All these alternatives seemed natural and easy;
she could imagine taking refuge in any one of them. But to go on with
ordinary, everyday work, to take up the "next duty" and perform it in
quiet, conscientious fashion--that was impossible!--the last thing in
the world that she could bring herself to do.
She did not realise that the bent of a lifetime is not reversed in a
moment, and that even the pangs of slighted love must be borne according
to the temperament of the sufferer. Dear, placid, domesticated Maud
found her best medicine in the "trivial round, the common task."
Nan, looking over her shoulder, saw that the little rows of figures were
as neat and accurate as ever, and caught a sigh of satisfaction when
they were added together, and the change in the housekeeping purse was
proved correct. Even in the midst of her distress, Maud was conscious
of a distinct sense of satisfaction in balancing her accounts to a
penny.
CHAPTER ELEVEN.
THE FIRST ENGAGEMENT.
The remaining hours of that day were the most painful which Maud had
ever known. The sisters returned to find the household in a state of
wild excitement, for such secrets seemed to leak out in the air, so that
the very servants suspected the truth, and walked about the house with
curious smiles. The housemaid confided to the cook that the missis had
come in from the garden all of a tremble; had replied, "Yes! No!
Certainly!" when asked for instructions, and had then sent Miss Lilias
to see Mr Talbot in the drawing-room all by her very own self. What
did that mean, she would like to know? And cook shook her head, and
said it wasn't for nothing she had fallen up the cellar stairs the week
before; and a very good thing too, if one of them did go off! When
there were six of them waiting for their turns, the elders ought to
hurry up and make room. Mary, the waitress, shed tears over her silver
in the pantry, because there was a look about the back of Mr Talbot's
head that reminded her of her young man, who had gone abroad to prepare
a home; and all three flattened their noses against the window when Ned
departed, in the hope of witnessing a tender and affecting farewell.
They were disappointed, however, for Lilias did not leave the drawing-
room, and only Mrs Rendell accompanied the young man to the door. She
had put on her bonnet, and followed him slowly down the road, for
ordinary duties must be attended to, even on the exciting occasion of
the first engagement in the family, and on this particular morning there
happened to be a committee meeting at the vicarage, which she felt bound
to attend.
When Maud returned, therefore, only her sisters were at home to receive
her, and she had barely entered the house before Agatha rushed forward,
flushed and beaming, and drew her forcibly into the drawing-room.
"Maud, Maud, such news! Such excitement! Have you heard? Did Nan tell
you? Isn't it lovely? The first engagement! Oh, how I have longed to
have a wedding in the family, and now it's really coming off! It's too
good to be true! Ned Talbot, too! Such a scrumptious brother! I
always hoped he'd ask one of us, but I thought it was you. Funny,
wasn't it? I said to Chrissie--"
"It was very bold and interfering of you to say anything of the sort,
then; what business have you meddling with other people's love affairs?"
interrupted Elsie sharply; and Maud glanced at her, and turned away
quickly to avoid a look of sympathetic understanding. Elsie was old
beyond her years, and had been quick to understand the true position of
affairs; but Maud hardly knew which was more painful--Agatha's tactless
speeches, or the other's undisguised commiseration. It was a relief to
turn to Lilias and meet her lovely eyes, guilelessly free from any
feeling but her own happiness. Lilias had little natural insight, and
was, besides, so wrapped up in her own interests, that she was as blind
as a bat to what was passing around. She came forward, smiling and
blushing, and Maud kissed her, as was expected, and murmured words of
congratulation, feeling meantime that this very unconsciousness would be
her greatest assistance in the difficult time to come.
"I've heard all about it, Lilias. I hope you will be very happy. It is
really all settled, and you are engaged?"
"Yes--no! Not formally, I mean. Mother won't consent to anything
definite until she has consulted with father; but, of course, we,"--
Lilias dimpled and smiled seraphically over the unaccustomed word--"we
feel that it is settled. We are quite sure of ourselves, at least."
"Then I'd get married as soon as you could if I were you, in case you
changed," said Agatha darkly. "You do change most awfully, Lilias, you
know. When you bought your last hat you said it was a `simple love,'
and the next month you pulled it all to pieces. And you used to adore
Fanny Newby, and now you go out of the side door when you see her
coming. Get married in summer and have a rose wedding, and we'll all be
bridesmaids. I pine to be a bridesmaid, with everything new from head
to foot, and no nasty old clothes to wear out. That's the worst of
being number five! I never have everything new at once. There's always
a hat, or a jacket, or a blouse that has to be finished off. Let's sit
down and talk about it now! There's half an hour before lunch, and it's
impossible to do any work. Maud, sit down and take off your hat, and
let's be comfy!"
"No, she can't. I want her! I don't care who is going to be married;
I'm ill, and I want Maud to nurse me. My head is smashing. I believe
it's sunstroke, for I sat out yesterday without a hat. I shall go crazy
in a moment if somebody doesn't do something!" cried Nan loudly; and her
sisters stared in dismay at her flushed, heated face. It was so evident
that she was in pain that even Agatha submitted to a postponement of the
longed-for "talk," and the conclave broke up for the time being, the
sisters separating, to go off in various directions: Lilias to be petted
and cross-questioned by the two schoolgirls; Elsie to indite a
melancholy entry in her diary, beginning, "Yet another example of the
strange intermingling of joy and pain": and Maud to lead Nan to her own
room, and devote herself to the work of nursing, at which she was so
clever. Perhaps Nan's head was really aching, perhaps the morning's
excitement had brought on an attack of neuralgia, but whatever her
ailment, she certainly made the worst of it, groaning and rolling her
eyes to the ceiling as one in mortal agony; for she was wise enough to
realise that nothing would take Maud so much out of herself as the
necessity of waiting upon another.
When Mrs Rendell entered the room, and recognised the odours of eau-de-
Cologne, menthol, and sal volatile, her first thought was of poor
brokenhearted Maud; but, behold! it was Maud who was playing doctor, and
buxom Nan who lay prone upon the bed.
A few inquiries and expressions of sympathy were spoken, and then a
gesture bade Maud follow into another room. She went, shrinking from
the ordeal, yet longing to have it over, and for a few minutes mother
and daughter gazed at one another in silence. The girl's face was grave
and set, but self-composed in comparison with that of Mrs Rendell,
which was quivering with distress.
"My dear child! What can I say to you? I can never forgive myself for
my part in this disappointment. I should not have spoken as I did the
other day, but I thought at the time that it was the right thing to do,
and I had no doubts on the subject. What can I do to help you, dear,
through this difficult time?"
"Speak as little as possible about it, mother, please," said Maud
softly. She pressed her lips together, wincing with pain, and Mrs
Rendell's eyes flashed a look of approval in reply.
Of Spartan bravery herself, it delighted her to see her daughter bracing
herself up to bear her trouble without useless outcry and repining.
"I quite agree, darling," she said warmly. "After to-day we will never
mention the subject; but there are one or two things which must be said
first. To begin with, Ned has no suspicion of our mistake. I took care
of that; and it may help you to know that, after all, we were not so
very far from the truth. He spoke quite openly, and it seems that for
the first two or three years you were the attraction! He said he had
been sincerely attached to you, but that he saw you regarded him simply
as a friend. Then Lilias came home, with her more demonstrative ways;
he turned to her for comfort, and now,"--She stopped with a little
eloquent gesture, while Maud gave a groan of pain.
"Oh, mother, that is hard--to think that it came so near, and that I
spoiled my life by my own mistake! I suppose my very anxiety not to
show how much I cared made me seem stiff and constrained; but I never
meant him to take it in that way. It makes it worse than ever, and yet
I'm glad too. It's a comfort to feel it was not all imagination."
"I thought you would feel it so; that is why I told you. But you must
not talk of your life being spoiled, dear. These are early days, and I
hope there are many, many blessings which still remain open to you. It
is a great mistake to think that marriage is the only gate to happiness.
A single woman may have a most full and useful life."
"Yes, mother!" assented Maud dutifully. Poor Maud! her heart died down
within her as she spoke, and her thoughts flew away to old Mary Robins
in her lodging, and Miss Evans in her stuffy little cottage, and she
wondered if it were really, really possible that she--Maud Rendell--
could ever grow like them, and feel satisfied with the duties and
pleasures which constituted their lives! "Full and useful!" It sounded
estimable enough; but her young heart hungered for happiness also, and
at the moment that seemed lost for ever. The downcast face was so
pitiful that the tears came into Mrs Rendell's eyes as she watched it.
"Don't think of the future, dear," she said fondly. "Take each day as
it comes, and try to bear it bravely, and I'll help you in every way I
can. Ned will come down pretty often, for I must consider Lilias as
well as you, and we cannot consent to have a formal engagement until
they know each other more intimately than at present; but it will not be
so hard as you expect. You must be at home sometimes, for the last
thing we want to do is to arouse suspicion; but I will arrange that you
have as many changes as possible; and in any way that I can help I am at
your service, dear, if you will only let me know!"
"Thank you, mother," said Maud again, and made a little involuntary
movement towards the door, whereupon Mrs Rendell dismissed her, after a
lingering embrace. She saw that it was misery to the girl to discuss
her disappointment, and realised that it would be the truest kindness to
allow the subject to drop. It was only natural that Maud should find it
easier to talk to a friend of her own age, and Nan would be able to help
more than any one else in these first painful days. Later on her own
turn would come; and all day long the mother's mind was busy weaving
plans by which Maud could be shielded from suffering, and her life made
bright and interesting during the months ahead.
Lessons came off badly that afternoon, for the girls were too much
absorbed in the excitement of the prospective wedding to be able to fix
their attention on the problems of arithmetic and geography. When the
great problem of the hour was to decide the number of bridesmaids and
what kind of frocks they should wear, how could they be expected to feel
any interest in discovering how many yards of paper it would take to
cover the walls of a problematical chamber, or in describing the
eccentricities of the Gulf Stream? Miss Roberts realised the
impossibility of the situation, and shortened the hours in considerate
fashion; and no sooner had she taken her departure than the three girls
rushed to the porch-room, surrounded Lilias in a whirlwind of
excitement, and dragged her to a chair in their midst.
"At last we can talk! Such a pity Nan is ill, and won't let Maud leave
the room; but we can have it all over again with them to-morrow. Talk!
I feel as if I could talk for ever! Oh, Lilias, how do you feel? If I
were engaged, I don't know what would happen to me! I should go stark,
staring mad with excitement."
"How nice for him! You would have another person to consider then,
remember," said Lilias prettily. "I am not at all inclined to go mad,
though I am certainly very much excited. It is difficult to describe my
feelings. I can't realise it yet, and feel all--"
"Jumbled up!" suggested Agatha sympathetically. "Of course you do. I
should myself. Oh, Lil, do have them in yellow! I've been thinking
about it all the afternoon, and I think yellow would be sw-eet! With
bouquets of daffodils! Very few people have yellow, and it would be so
uncommon, and make us look much paler too. I shall have a face like a
beetroot with excitement; I know I shall."
"I daresay! And how should I look, I'd like to know?" queried
Christabel loftily. "Sea green, my dear. I'm sallow enough as it is,
but imagine my appearance in a yellow dress! I should present a
shocking spectacle! Nothing is so nice as pink: it suits every one, and
is so bright and pretty. Pink silk dresses, with Leghorn hats."
Elsie grimaced in disapproving fashion.
"So commonplace! Every one has pink. We must have something altogether
unique and striking. No use deciding now, for we will change our minds
a dozen times before the time arrives. When are you to be married,
Lilias? What is the date?"
"My dear, I've no notion! I am not even properly engaged yet, so how
could we begin talking about marriage? I believe we are to be put on
probation for some months, so it will certainly not be this year at any
rate."
"What a bore! I'm longing to stay with you in your own house. It's my
idea of happiness to go and stay with you girls when you are married.
You will ask us all in turns, won't you? I'd like to come with
Chrissie; and then, if you and Ned get too affectionate, we can amuse
ourselves in another room. It will be lovely having no grown-up person
in the house. Oh, well, of course, you are grown-up, if it comes to
that, but only young grown-up, and that makes all the difference. You
won't make us do things because they are `good for us'--send us a walk
when we don't feel inclined, for instance, or to bed early, or make us
eat `good plain food.' When I come to stay with you, I should like
never to go out unless I have something special to do, and to have tea
for lunch, and nice rich cake, and laze about from morning till night,
just as I felt disposed."
"And you'll ask people to meet us, won't you, Lil, and take us about,
and give us all your old gloves and ribbons? Marie Elder's sister is
engaged, and he won't let her wear any gloves that are the l-east little
bit soiled; so Marie gets them all. I hope Ned will be fussy about your
things, too. What shall you call your house? I hope it's a nice one.
Florrie Elder is going to have a blue drawing-room, and Marie is working
her a cushion of the most ex-quisite ribbon-work you ever did see.
Florrie says she would quarrel with her nearest and dearest if he dared
to lean against it. If you like, I'll ask her for the pattern, and do
one for you. It wouldn't matter having them the same, when you live so
far apart."
"What will Jim say? Ned and he vowed that they would be bachelors all
their lives, and live together when they were old. Now he will be
obliged to marry himself, in revenge. How I shall detest the girl! She
won't be half nice enough for him, and he will like her better than us,
and that will be horribly exasperating. I don't envy her when he brings
her to see us, that's all! Six sisters all glaring at her in a row, and
saying to themselves, `I don't like her nose!' `I don't like her eyes!'
`What a hat!' `However could he fall in love with her!' And mother
all icy kind, and father smirking behind his moustache. That's what
will happen to you one of these days, Lilias, when you go north, `on
view,' to Ned's people."
Lilias rolled her eyes, and affected to tear her hair in despair.
"Oh, don't! I pray you, don't! I shall die with nervousness. Poor
little me! His parents are reserved and undemonstrative, like most
North-country people, he says, but are very tender-hearted at bottom.
That means, I suppose, that they would be stiff and polite all the time
I was there, and begin slowly to unbend just as I was coming away.
Frederica, the girl, goes in for higher education, and doesn't care a
bit about going about with other girls. I know they will be
disappointed with me. Ned is so silly, and he is sure to tell them."--
She stopped, sweetly simpering, and the hearers had little difficulty in
guessing what it was that Ned would tell his people. He would say that
his _fiancee_ was the loveliest girl in the world; that she had hair
like spun gold, a complexion of milk and roses, and eyes soft and dewy
as a violet. Then Lilias would arrive in person, and his people would
think that he had not said half enough. Each of the three hearers had a
vision of Lilias advancing to meet the new relatives with lifted eyes,
and a smile that would melt a heart of stone; each one saw in
imagination the sudden thaw on the watching faces, and beheld Lilias
installed forthwith as the pride and darling of the household. They
smiled at one another in furtive amusement, but discreetly avoided
putting their thoughts into words, for Lilias fished so transparently
for compliments, that it had become an unspoken law never on any
condition to encourage her by giving the desired assurance.
Agatha turned aside to hide her amusement, and, the next moment, gave a
jump of astonishment.
"Keep still! Don't move! For your lives don't look out of the window!
Sit where you are, and go on talking. My dears, he is watching us! The
Vanburgh! I distinctly saw him lean forward and stare across. He is in
the room directly opposite, and he dodged back the moment I looked.
Fancy his being as much interested in us as we are in him! How
exciting!"
"We must look very ridiculous, sitting here in a row, chattering and
waving our hands as if we were mad. I don't wonder he stared, but I do
want to stare back. Let us take it in turns to peep beneath our
eyelashes, while the others go on talking," suggested Elsie; and the
proposal was carried out forthwith, each girl watching till the coveted
glimpse had been obtained, and informing her companions of her success
by groans and exclamations.
"I see him, I do! He is staring across. He looks very ill. His hair
is quite white. Poor old man, how dull he must be!"
When it came to Chrissie's turn she stared across with undisguised
curiosity, and refused to accept her sisters' reproaches when the white
head was hurriedly withdrawn from view.
"I was the last! You had all had your turns, so I have not deprived you
of anything," she maintained. "I only meant to smile at him in a kind,
neighbourly fashion. He will look out again in a few minutes, never
fear!"
But Mr Vanburgh's face appeared no more at the window, and it seemed as
if the knowledge that he had been observed had been so unwelcome as to
put an end to his scrutiny. The girls could only comfort themselves
with the remembrance that their mother had promised to call at the
Grange during the next few weeks, when, no doubt, first-hand information
would be forthcoming about its occupant.
CHAPTER TWELVE.
NOT AT HOME!