private engagement between Lilias and Ned Talbot for a year to come,
with the understanding that if the young people remained of the same
mind, no objection would then be put in the way of their speedy
marriage; and as they would be allowed to correspond, and to meet as
often as opportunity offered, the decision was received with
satisfaction by the lovers. Lilias complacently settled to be married
in fifteen months' time, and was resigned to a probation sweetened by
the receipt of constant letters, presents, and adulation; while Ned,
with characteristic honesty, confessed in his own heart that he had no
very deep acquaintance with his beloved's character, and that he could
not be better employed than in the study of the same. Lilias's
exquisite girlish beauty had so dazzled his senses, that he had been shy
and ill at ease in her presence, and their conversations together had
been of the lightest, most impersonal nature. It would be an entrancing
occupation to discover all the hidden charms possessed by this sweetest
of created beings; for, like most young men, Ned was convinced that a
lovely body must needs be an index to a lovely mind, and that beauty of
face was but a reflection from the soul within. Every month that passed
would draw Lilias and himself more closely together, as each came to
know and understand the depths of the other's nature. So Ned told
himself happily, as he came down to Thurston House for his first visit
in the new character, a week after the all-important interview.
Lilias met him at the door, and led him into the drawing-room, all
fragrant with spring flowers and plants. She looked like a flower
herself, with her soft pink and white colouring, and to the last day of
his life Ned Talbot could never inhale the fragrance of a narcissus or a
hyacinth without a spasm of painful remembrance. It brought back so
vividly the intoxicating joy of that meeting. They talked together in
lover-like fashion, Lilias alternately shy and reticent, and queening it
over him with absurd little airs of authority, at which he laughed with
a lover's delight, until presently a tap came to the door, and Agatha's
face peeped round the corner to announce that tea had been taken out to
the garden, and to ask if the lovers would rather come out, or, have it
sent to them indoors.
"Here, please," said Lilias.
"Oh, we'll come out certainly," cried Ned in the same moment, and then
turned to her with a smile of apology.
"If you don't mind, dear! I want to see Maud. She was out when I left
the other day, you remember, and I can't feel that I am really received
into the family until Maud has given me her blessing."
"Just as you wish, of course. It does seem a pity to stay indoors when
the weather is so glorious!" assented Lilias readily. Though inwardly
annoyed that she should have appeared more anxious than Ned for an
extension of their _tete-a-tete_, she was far too proud to show her
vexation. Nothing could have appeared more ready or more natural than
the manner in which she rose from her seat and slipped her hand through
Agatha's arm; but even while she smiled and chatted she was registering
a vow to punish Mr Ned on the first opportunity.
Out in the garden Maud sat, busying herself with the teacups and nerving
herself to face the dreaded moment, as footsteps approached nearer and
nearer her seat.
"Maud!" cried Ned, and gripped her hand with affectionate fervour, "I
was longing to see you. It seemed too bad going away without a word
from you the other day. We have so much to say to one another!"
"Yes, indeed; but meantime I must pour out the tea! Are you going to
make yourself useful and hand round the cups?" replied a laughing, self-
possessed voice, which Maud hardly recognised as her own. It was easier
to play a part than she had expected: the looking forward had been worse
than the reality; and, as she met her mother's smile and Nan's approving
glance, she even began to feel a dreary pride in her own composure.
Lilias had seated herself between two of her sisters, an intentional
revenge for the slight which she considered herself to have received,
and Ned was therefore left free to devote himself to his old friend.
"Of course you saw--you knew what was coming," he whispered
confidentially, when the general conversation made it possible to
exchange a quiet remark. "I realised that I gave myself away by my
awkwardness and stupidity whenever she was present, but I was powerless
to prevent it. And you were so good to me, Maud, always doing your best
to help and make things easy. I can never be grateful enough for your
friendship. I am so thankful to feel that you are at home still. It
seems an assurance of safety; for you'll look after her, and see that
she gets into no danger through all this long year of waiting."
He looked at her appealingly, and she gave a forced little laugh.
"Oh yes, I'll ward off the beasts of prey. There are so many, you know,
roving about this sleepy place. She will meet so many dangers!"
"Don't laugh at me! I can't help being anxious. She is so young and
child-like, and there are dangers everywhere. Illness, accident,
infection. I shall think of them when I am far away, and worry myself
to death. But you are a bulwark of strength, Maud, and if you will take
her in charge--"
Maud laughed again. It seemed so ridiculous to think of any of her
sisters promising to take Lilias in charge! Lilias, the most cool-
headed, independent, and self-confident member of the family. She was
infinitely more capable of taking care of the whole family than the
family was of influencing her movements; but Ned could not be expected
to realise as much, and he was obviously wounded by the absence of
expected sympathy.
An exclamation from Christabel, calling attention to Kitty Maitland's
figure crossing the lawn, came as a welcome interruption, and Ned took
the opportunity to cross to a seat on the other side of the group, while
Maud watched his departure with mingled relief and concern.
"He thinks I am hard and prosaic, and is disappointed in me. Well,
better so! He won't confide his rhapsodies in my ear any more, and that
would be really more than I could bear. The old days are over, and he
must look elsewhere for sympathy."
Meantime Kitty had seated herself on the grass, and was proceeding to
account for her appearance.
"Please I hope you don't object to my coming back so soon! Mummy has
gone with father to call on Mr Vanburgh, and I walked with them to the
Grange, and came in here to wait until she comes out. She put on all
her new things, and looks a perfect duck. I expect he will like her
awfully, and I told her to introduce my name into the conversation as
often as possible. `My daughter likes this'; `My daughter likes that';
`As my little girl says to me';--that sort of thing, don't you know,
just to attract his attention. Perhaps he will tell her to bring me
with her next time she calls, or even ask me to tea by myself. He may
have nieces or grandchildren who will come to stay, and then it would be
useful to know a girl in the neighbourhood. I think he is certain to
ask me--"
"Mother!" interrupted Chrissie shrilly; and her voice was so sharp with
distress that every one stopped talking, to listen to what she had to
say. "Mother, Mrs Maitland has gone to see Mr Vanburgh before you! I
asked you to go! I had set my heart on your being the first caller; and
now it's too late, and you can only be second. I told you so! I _said_
how it would be!"
Mrs Rendell lifted her brows with the little surprised air of reproof
which Chrissie knew so well.
"I regret to have disappointed you, my dear," she replied, with
elaborate politeness; "but I fear I should hardly have been the first
caller, even if I had gone the day after my return, and I have been too
much occupied this week to pay outside visits. I am sure you will be
delighted to hear Mrs Maitland's report, and will not grudge Kitty the
pleasure, if she makes Mr Vanburgh's acquaintance before yourself."
Chrissie collapsed into silence; but, veiled by her thickly-flowing
hair, she grimaced to herself and scowled at her friend, who was
regarding her with that air of enjoyment which it is impossible not to
feel when a companion receives a nice little snub for her pains!
Agatha and Elsie had already begun to invent forecasts of the news which
Mrs Maitland would have to tell, when, to the amazement of all, who
should appear round the corner of the house but that lady herself! She
carried her card-case in her hand, and waved her hand in greeting; but,
for once in their lives, the girls were too much overcome with surprise
to respond.
Back already, when she had barely had time to go up to the door and
retrace her steps! What did it mean? Not at home? But Mr Vanburgh
was always at home. According to report, his farthest expedition was
into the garden, where surely he would be able to receive a visitor on a
bright spring afternoon. Surprise held them dumb, until Mrs Maitland
had reached speaking distance, when, with one accord, they deafened her
with inquiries, to which she did her best to reply after the first
greetings were over.
"How do you do, Mrs Rendell? Good afternoon, Mr Talbot. I am one of
the privileged _few_ who have been told your secret, and I wish you
every happiness, and dear Lilias also. I tell every engaged couple I
meet that I hope they may only be as happy as I am. My dear children,
don't pull me to pieces; this is my very best dress! I'll tell you all
about it in a minute. I am so glad to have this opportunity of seeing
you all together, for I was longing to come over. May I sit here?
Well, then, to begin at the beginning..."
She put her card-case on her lap, and clasped her hands together in
preparation, and the girls watched her with approving eyes, for Mrs
Maitland was a most satisfactory story-teller. She began at the
beginning--the very smallest possible beginning--instead of halfway
through the narrative, as other grown-up people had a habit of doing,
and went straight through to the end, noticing every detail, and
describing it in racy, picturesque language.
"Well, we went up to the door and rang the bell. It is not an ordinary
everyday bell, but a quaint, wrought-iron handle, hanging on a chain
from a sort of signpost arrangement, and I could hear it pealing away in
most melodious fashion inside the house. The curtain inside the glass
panels of the door was caught slightly back, and I could get a peep into
the vestibule. The oak has been left untouched, and there are palms on
either side sunk into great pots of copper with snakes and dragons and
all kinds of uncanny animals standing out in relief. I was still
peering through when the inner door was thrown open, and the butler
appeared, upon which I straightened myself at once, and tried to look
stately and dignified. I had just one minute to take in the inner hall,
so cannot tell you much about it, except that it is a perfect museum of
wonderful and beautiful things--pieces of tapestry hung on the walls,
carved oak cabinets full of curios, a figure of a knight in armour, and
curious Eastern-looking lamps burning dimly in the distance; but the
butler looked so very solemn and imposing that I dared not stare as much
as I should have liked. `Is Mr Vanburgh at home?' I asked; and he
inclined his head in a gracious bow. `He is at home, madam, but is not
receiving visitors.' I drew out my cards, and said, `I am sorry to miss
seeing him. I hope he is not more unwell than usual to-day?' He bowed
again, like a mechanical figure, and said, `Mr Vanburgh charges me to
say, madam, that as he is unable to return visits, he must deprive
himself of the pleasure of receiving them while in Waybourne.' I never
felt so small in my life. Dismissed on the doorstep, and sent away like
a child! I don't know how I looked, or what I said. My one idea was to
get out of the man's sight as quickly as possible; and the door had no
sooner closed on him than I began dreading Kit's disappointment. It was
a most trying experience! Father has gone for a walk, and I came in to
break the news to you!"
She looked appealingly at Kitty as she finished, and met a glance of
blackest gloom. This was indeed a blow. Not only were there no Miss
Vanburghs, but the only Vanburgh who was left refused to open his door
to visitors!
"Piteous!" cried Chrissie; and Agatha struck her hands together in
despair.
"There ought to be a law about it--a law to prevent hermits from buying
the best houses in a neighbourhood. Does he mean to say that he will
see nobody?" she cried. "Perhaps he didn't know who you were, Mrs
Maitland. He takes an interest in us, we know, for we have _seen_ him
staring across. Perhaps if he had known you belonged to Kitty, it might
have been different. Mother, you will go all the same, won't you? You
won't give up without trying?"
Mrs Rendell shrugged her shoulders.
"I am not particularly anxious to be turned away from the door, and I
see no reason why I should be treated better than Mrs Maitland. The
servant is evidently entrusted with a general message. I think the best
thing will be to send father across on Saturday afternoon, to see if the
rule applies to ladies only. If Mr Vanburgh really wants to be quiet,
we can't force ourselves upon him. I am sorry the Grange is not let to
more interesting people, but we must make the best of it. It has
evidently been chosen as a museum in which to store a collection of art
treasures, and, after all, you must remember it is no more closed to us
now than it has been for years past."
"Dear me, no! We can live without the Grange, I hope. Let the poor old
dear shut himself up if he likes. He will be the loser, not we!" cried
Mrs Maitland, laughing. That was the worst of grown-up people! They
were so aggravatingly reasonable and resigned!
CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
DIOGENES AT THE WINDOW.
After a storm comes a calm. As in Nature, so in the affairs of human
life, and the Rendells found another example of the truth of the old
adage in the month following Lilias's engagement. Nothing seemed to
happen; even the interest which had been taken in the new occupant of
the Grange died away after Mr Rendell's failure to gain admission, and
one day jog--trotted away after another in monotonous fashion.
They were dreary days to Maud, but at the end of even the longest and
dreariest she acknowledged to herself that the battle was not so
hopeless as she had expected. The trouble was there, the difficult
moments arose, the quick stabs of pain following happy memories, but she
herself was strengthened to bear them in a manner which she could not
have believed possible. Maud was one of the sweet, open characters who
are religious by nature; but though she had asked for God's help every
night of her life, she had never been conscious of its presence in such
abundance as in this hour of trial. It almost awed her at times to
realise her own strength, and this testing of the power of faith was a
ray of light shining out of the darkness. Passages from the Bible which
she had known all her life became suddenly instinct with new and
wonderful meaning; the words of Christ went straight home to her sore
heart and comforted it as no earthly power could do. The new communion
had a joy and a sweetness which she had never known before, and her
character grew daily stronger and deeper under the influence of sorrow
nobly borne. Her mother's tenderness, moreover, manifested itself in a
hundred little schemes for her distraction, and Nan's demonstrative
affection heartened her for the fight. The world was not all lost
because Ned had chosen another; and, so far from neglecting her old
duties, Maud worked away more industriously than ever, finding her best
medicine in a busy, occupied life.
Ned Talbot had gone back to the North, whence he could not return for
two months to come, and Lilias settled down contentedly to play the
interesting part of the _fiancee_. She did not fret for her lover, but
seemed abundantly content to receive his letters, and pen lengthy
answers; and though the date of her marriage was so far ahead, she began
at once to make preparations for her future home. One rainy afternoon
she shut herself in her bedroom, and rearranged all her belongings,
leaving the lowest drawer in the wardrobe empty, and covered with fresh
white paper. Then she wrote something at her desk, lingered outside the
door for a minute, and finally rejoined her sisters, with a mischievous
smile curving the corners of her pretty lips.
Presently Chrissie ran upstairs on some trifling errand, and came to a
stand-still on the landing, uttering sharp cries of surprise; then
Agatha followed to discover the cause of the excitement, and guffawed
with laughter, when Nan and Elsie jumped from their chairs and ran
helter-skelter in pursuit. They found the two younger girls leaning up
against the wall, staring at the door of Lilias's room, on the centre of
which was tacked a square of paper, neatly lined and lettered:--
NOTICE!
TO ALL WHOM IT MAY CONCERN.
Miss Lilias Rendell desires to inform her friends and the public
generally that she has just opened a Bottom Drawer, and that every
description of household goods, useful and ornamental, will be
gratefully accepted towards the furnishing of her future home.
_NB_--Carved oak articles especially welcome!
"That's one for me!" cried Nan, grimacing. "What is your especial
fancy, my love--a side-board or a dining-room table? Don't be bashful,
pray! Aim at the sky, and you may succeed in hitting the tree. I
shouldn't wonder if I rose to a milking-stool, if you asked me nicely."
"And I'll work you a kettle-holder, sweet one, as soon as the sale is
over, and Chrissie a--"
"Twine bag," said Chrissie, simpering; "but until July you might as well
give up the idea, Lilias. Every moment we have, we must use for sale-
work, and every penny we can save in to the bargain. We can't attend to
you just yet."
"I thought perhaps you might start me with a few contributions from the
things you have made," said modest Lilias. "The drawer looks lonesome
with nothing in it, and I've made it so tidy! It would be a comfortable
home for that little blue cushion, and the mats with the roses. And you
would never miss them!"
"Wouldn't we just? The very best things we have! It is a pity your
modesty doesn't equal your taste. I should miss the smallest thing we
have made; and whenever I get low-spirited, I turn them all out of the
box and gloat over the collection--eleven pin-cushions, three sets of
mats, a table centre, three work-bags, two handkerchief sachets, six
babies' shoes, and a nice wool shawl! It's not bad for a start, and
there are lots of things on hand, besides Nan's carving and brass-work.
It would be like tearing my heart out of my body to give anything away,
and I don't think it would be at all a nice idea to start your
collection by stealing from the poor!"
Lilias looked appalled at the suggestion, but all the same she was not
too much shocked to seize on the chance of future spoils.
"Agatha, how can you? I am the last person in the world to think of
such a thing. I suggested the sale, remember; you would not have had it
at all but for me; but how could a little thing like a pin-cushion be
called a theft? However, it's all right; don't give them me at present
if you would rather not. After the sale there are sure to be some
things left, and then--You would not mind giving them to me then, I
suppose?"
"Certainly not. At least I am quite willing if the others are," said
Agatha, looking round inquiringly; upon which Nan and Elsie nodded
assent, and Chrissie bargained, "Unless I am engaged myself by that
time, when, of course, they must be equally divided,"--a contingency so
remote that Lilias congratulated herself on a good morning's work, and
felt that so far as pin-cushions were concerned the future held no
further anxiety.
Work for the sale had, indeed, been carried forward with great zest; and
now that the days were lengthening, there was a good two hours after
tea, when Kitty could join the party in the porch-room, and stitch away
at some dainty task while carrying on that breathless stream of
conversation which never seemed to run short, despite the daily
meetings. Nan brought down her carving, and worked at a little table of
her own; Elsie cut and planned with delicate, accurate fingers; and the
three younger girls sewed away in characteristic fashion: Agatha bending
double over the seam; Christabel, erect and stately, drawing her thread
to its full length with leisurely, dignified movements; and Kitty, with
her spectacles on the tip of her nose, peering over them from time to
time in grandmotherly concern at the frivolity of her companions.
Nothing more had been discovered about "Diogenes," as Mr Vanburgh had
been nicknamed since his refusal to receive visitors; but on fine days
his couch was wheeled close to the window, and as he lay looking out, it
was inevitable that the movements of the girls in the sunny porch-room
immediately opposite should attract his wandering attention. When they
glanced across in their turn, he politely turned aside, and appeared
engrossed in his book; but no sooner were they at work again than the
tired eyes would be lifted once more, to dwell with wistful interest on
the bright young faces. One afternoon in especial, as Nan sat bending
over her carving, the conviction strengthened that she was observed.
She peered under her eyelashes, smiled mischievously to herself, and
suddenly leapt from her seat in a manner most startling to the nerves of
her sisters. She hopped on one foot and waved her arms in the air; she
swooped down on Chrissie's work and threw it wildly to the ceiling; she
thrust her face into Elsie's and went off into a peal of maniacal
laughter, which sent that nervous young person flying to the farthest
corner. She seized a bundle of ribbons and danced an impromptu skirt
dance, flourishing them to and fro, while he onlookers scuttled together
like rabbits, and felt that their lives trembled in the balance.
Finally, after succeeding in turning the room topsy-turvy, and raising
the most powerful doubts as to her own sanity, Miss Nan tottered out on
to the landing and collapsed in a breathless heap on the lowest stair,
while her sisters looked on askance from a discreet distance.
"H-have some sal volatile! I'll get it from my room. Never mind, dear,
you'll be better soon!" stuttered Elsie fearfully; but at that the crazy
creature laughed afresh, though in a more restrained and natural
fashion.
"Oh no; I am not mad! I did it for a purpose, my dear, as you shall
hear. That poor old Diogenes was lying on his couch, looking across
with such a dull, pathetic face, and I felt so sorry that the poor dear
had nothing more exciting to amuse him. He must be precious dull when
he takes so much interest in girls like us, and I felt grieved to think
how little fun we had given him, sitting sewing day after day like so
many machines. I says to myself, says I, `It is in your power, Margaret
Rendell, to infuse some brightness into the lot of this poor lonely
sufferer, and you are going to do it! He shall have some excitement
before the day is over, bless him!' Therefore, as you perceived, I
executed a new and original war-dance for his benefit, and sent you all
attitudinising about the room. That's the reason of this thusness, and
Diogenes is now, no doubt, full of agitation, believing that one so
young and fair has suddenly lost her wits, and imagining you all
occupied in binding me to the bedpost till help arrives!"
"I don't know how he feels, but I feel extremely ill!" grumbled Elsie,
her sympathy suddenly changed to resentment. "Sticking your face into
mine and laughing in that crazy fashion. Never do it again! My heart
is right up in my throat, and thumping like a steam-engine. I can't
work any more. I am going to recover my equanimity in the garden!"
Poor Diogenes! It was baffling to curiosity that all the actors should
have disappeared at the most exciting moment of the play; and the actors
themselves were fully aware of the fact, and with child-like enjoyment
determined to lengthen out the mystery. The porch-room was abandoned
for the afternoon, and such sequestered nooks in the garden as were
invisible from the Grange were chosen as resting-places, while Kitty
willingly consented to walk an extra half-mile on her way home, so as to
avoid going out by the front gate. Such a reversal of the usual comings
and goings would, it was hoped, give the final touch to Mr Vanburgh's
curiosity, and teach him a wholesome lesson on the folly of shutting
himself up and holding no communication with the world. When Agatha
suggested that the poor old dear might lie awake all night from
agitation, Nan cold-bloodedly hoped that he would, since he, on his
part, had been so cruel as to shut the doors of the Grange against his
neighbours.
She would have been much surprised if she had known how, and for whom,
those doors would first be opened!
CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
A VISIT OF CEREMONY.