Maud's life. A letter arrived from a friend of the family who had been
living abroad for her daughter's education, and had now reached Paris,
preparatory to returning to England in a month's time. It had been all
work and no play for the girl during the winter, her mother wrote, and
it had been long promised that the month in Paris should be entirely
given over to pleasure-seeking. Mabel had drawn out a programme so
lengthy and varied, that Mrs Nevins doubted whether she herself would
have strength to go through it. One thing at least was certain, that
the girl's enjoyment would be doubled by the presence of a companion of
her own age, who would be able to share her ecstasies, as a tired-out,
middle-aged woman could never do. Therefore, might Maud come? Could
Maud be spared for a month to give Mabel the very great pleasure of her
society? She should have every care, and be brought back to London
early in June.
Mrs Rendell carried the letter up to Maud as she practised in her room,
and handed it to her with a smile; and Maud flushed and paled, and laid
her hand affectionately on her little mother's shoulder.
"Mummy! how much from you, and how much from Mrs Nevins? You have had
something to do with this, I'm sure you have. The suggestion came from
you in the first instance!"
"Pooh! What a child! Such notions as she takes!" cried Mrs Rendell
laughingly. "How it comes about is little matter; you don't need to be
told how truly delighted Mabel will be to have you. You can believe in
that, at least. And Paris! You have always wanted to go to Paris,
dear!"
"Yes, mother, I have. Oh yes, always!" Maud smiled bravely, trying
hard to appear as pleased and elated as her mother expected. It was not
the first, nor the second, nor the twentieth time that she had
discovered schemes for her own benefit during the last few weeks.
School friends had been invited on visits; books for which she had
wished had opportunely arrived from town; concert tickets had been
purchased with unprecedented frequency. Maud fully appreciated the
kindly purpose of these attentions, and, to a certain extent, enjoyed
the amusements provided; but she was conscious of a dreary regret that
these long-wished-for pleasures should arrive at a time when it was
impossible to throw herself into them with whole-hearted enjoyment. The
regret was particularly keen at this moment, for to her, as to so many
girls, the first trip abroad had been the dream of a lifetime, and a
pang came with the realisation of how different from her expectations
the realisation must be. The ache at her heart would cloud the
brightness of the beautiful city,--she would look at everything, as it
were, through a veil of crape. The tears rose to her eyes despite all
her efforts, and she turned hastily aside, fearing that her mother might
think her ungrateful for receiving the news in such churlish fashion.
Mrs Rendell, however, affected to notice nothing unusual, and talked
away in cheery accents, discussing various practical matters concerning
the proposed visit, in which it was impossible not to feel an interest.
Maud's tears dried gradually; she found herself suggesting amendments to
the plans, and growing momentarily more interested and eager. She was
to be entrusted with a sum of money with which to buy presents for her
sisters, besides a well-filled purse for her own use. She and Mabel
could choose their summer clothes together, amid the bewildering
fascinations of Parisian fashions; and there was absolutely no limit in
the amount of sight-seeing permissible. She could run the whole gamut,
from the Louvre to the Catacombs, and get to know her Paris almost as
well as she knew her London. What girl of twenty-three would not feel
her woes assuaged by such a programme, especially in the company of a
bosom friend to whom she had been devoted from childhood?
Mr and Mrs Rendell rejoiced to see Maud's brightening face, and to
hear her voice raised to its old happy ring, as she busied herself with
preparations for her journey; and Nan rejoiced as much as they, and
racked her brains to discover how she could best assist in the same
preparations.
"Let me do some sewing for you! Do let me help!" she pleaded, and
proceeded to stitch up the seams entrusted to her with such
unprecedented care and neatness, that Maud hid the garments at the
bottom of her box, not having the heart to disclose that the seams were
on the wrong side, and must needs be as laboriously unpicked! She upset
a box of tooth-powder over a blue serge skirt; squeezed a bundle of
boots on the top of a chiffon bodice, and went beaming downstairs,
feeling that at last she had learned to be domesticated and to render
efficient service!
Maud departed smiling and cheery, and all the members of the family drew
a breath of relief as she drove off from the door. The secret
consciousness of her suffering had been a cloud over their spirits for
the past month, and now, as was only natural, a reaction set in, when
restrained spirits found their vent.
Mr and Mrs Rendell went up to town for a couple of nights to attend a
dinner-party and reception, and the girls discussed how they could best
organise a little festivity on their own account. It was decided to
hold the first picnic of the season, bicycling to a favourite spot in
the woods, where primroses and bluebells were luxuriant, and to invite
Mrs Maitland and Miss Phelps to drive up in a pony cart stored with
provisions for an out-of-door tea. Everything was arranged--cakes were
baked, sandwiches cut, cream and milk corked up in bottles, and a basket
packed with every requisite--when, "of course," as Elsie had it, the
rain descended in sheets, and the project was frustrated.
The usual scene of grumbling and ejaculating followed, before the girls
could resign themselves to their fate. To settle down to practise and
study seemed unbearably dreary after looking forward to such a charming
excursion; but there was nothing else to be done, so they marched
sulkily to their different occupations, and did not meet again until
after four o'clock. Then the schoolroom party joined Lilias in the
library, and were about to summon Nan from the attic, when Mary entered,
bringing a card on a salver.
Some one had been brave enough to face the elements, and pay a call in
the midst of a downpour of rain. Whom could it be? Lilias examined the
card with curious eyes, and turned in surprise towards her sisters.
"Miss Thacker! Don't know her from Adam. Who in the world is Miss
Thacker?"
"Oh--er--er--Wait a moment and I'll remember!" cried Agatha, ruffling
her hair in reflection. "I've heard the name, I'm sure--I know! She's
the creature who's come to Willow Cottage. She called once before, and
mother said she could not for the life of her decide whether she was
quite mad, or only three-quarters. What can she want?"
"Have to go and see, I suppose. Or stay, I'll bring her in here, to
have some tea, and then you can help me to entertain her; but whatever
you do, don't laugh! It's awfully bad form to make fun of a visitor."
And Lilias left the room, to return followed by a tall female figure,
which certainly approached perilously near the grotesque in appearance.
An old-fashioned poke bonnet and a gauze veil shaded a solemn white
face, braids of red hair fell over the cheeks, horn-rimmed spectacles
covered the eyes, while the absence of two front teeth gave a singularly
blank and unpleasant expression to the mouth. A merino shawl was folded
across the shoulders, and a venerable silk skirt dripped with rain upon
the carpet. An extraordinary-looking figure indeed; and it would appear
that eccentricity was not confined to appearance only, for the stranger
returned the girls' salutations with wriggles of the body, and began at
once to talk in a soft guttural voice, running her words together
without any stops, and at such express train speed that every now and
then she was obliged to stop short, and give a deep gasp of exhaustion.
"S-S-Sorry your mother is from mome me dears quite counted on finding
her rat ome. Said to myself at lunch must go and see Mrs Rendell
s'afternoon such a kind woman full of sympathy for rothers! Hurried out
and thought as had come so far might come in and see Miss Rendell as
servant said at tome and disengaged!"
The big mouth opened in a gasp for breath, which was heard throughout
the room, and Lilias stammered out a dismayed assent.
"Certainly--of course. So glad you did. If I can do anything I shall
be most pleased--"
"Of course, my dear. Your mother's daughter. Knew it by your face.
Not tany tea, thank you, bad for digestion enjoyed bad health for many
years and can only stay a minute. Called at four rouses already to-day
with no result. Breaks your rart to see the callous sardness of the
human race, every luxury and ease themselves and cold as sice to others.
Wouldn't believe it unless you were present to see rebuffs si get.
Ladies not a mile from this souse--could mention names but won't--pay
pounds and pounds for gloves and dats and not talf-a-crown to spare for
crying need, but said to myself all day, Mrs Rendell will help! I'll
get ta welcome there!"
"Oh yes, I'm sure mother would be pleased," stammered Lilias, more and
more puzzled to understand the drift of the strange woman's remarks.
From the farther end of the room a little squeaky sound was heard,
elaborately turned into a cough. Lilias grew hot with embarrassment,
and Miss Thacker peered suspiciously over her spectacles as she produced
a circular from her satchel and handed it over for inspection. It bore
the heading "Waybourne Home for Incurables," and set forth a plea for
help with which the girl was already familiar. She read it over,
however, once and yet again, puzzling her head meantime as to what to do
next. To refuse to give a donation was to class one's self at once
among those whose "callous sardness" had been denounced, and Lilias's
love of appreciation was so intense, that even before this unlovely
stranger she could not bear to appear in an unfavourable light. She
determined to delay the evil moment, and leave to her mother the
unpleasant task of refusal; for it seemed in the last degree unlikely
that Mrs Rendell would desire to supplement her ordinary subscription
by a gift to an unauthorised collector.
"I am very sorry you should have had your walk in the rain," she said
sweetly, "but, of course, in mother's absence I can make no promises.
She will be home the day after to-morrow, if you could call again to see
her."
She flattered herself that she had evaded the difficulty very cleverly,
but Miss Thacker rounded on her in unexpected fashion.
"Shouldn't dream of asking you my love. Too much respect for your dear
mother but wished to appeal to young and generous sarts like self and
sisters! Any contribution however small! Every little helps. Most
grateful I am sure, subscription or donation?"
"But--but," Lilias heard three separate gasps of dismay from the window,
and realising that no help was forthcoming from that quarter, nerved
herself to the unpleasant task.
"We should like to subscribe very much indeed, if we could, but we have
only a small allowance, and at present are doing all we can to assist
another charity. I fear that we cannot spare any more money--"
Miss Thacker peered at her solemnly through her spectacles, and shook
her head from side to side.
"Ah, yes, my dear, can if you will! Every luxury and comfort, cup
overflowing, only Will is lacking. Look into your rart and ask yourself
what can I deny myself for rothers? Some worldly bauble, some article
of adornment which you had planned to get, which you could do without,
and reap pa rich reward. What is a hat, a dress, a fan, compared to the
succour rof suffering garts?"
Now, as it happened, Lilias was bound for town the very next day to buy
a supply of those fineries which her soul loved, so that this suggestion
was so aptly timed as to strike her dumb with confusion. She could have
gushed over the poor incurables for an hour on end; was ready to shed
tears at a recital of their woes; but to give up a new hat in order to
devote the money to their use, this was a flight of generosity to which
Miss Lilias Rendell could never attain! She grew hot with anger at the
inconsiderateness of the stranger in proposing such a sacrifice, hotter
than ever at the thought of the three young sisters agape to hear her
answer. Here was a pretty alternative, to consent and go without some
detail of her summer outfit, or to refuse and be branded as vain and
selfish? Lilias chose a middle course, and, extracting half a crown
from her purse, handed it over with melancholy resignation.
"I shall be pleased to give you a small donation, but I would rather my
name did not appear in your list. Put it down as from a friend."
"Or a Giver--a Cheerful Giver!" cried Miss Thacker, with an accent on
the adjective which brought the blood into Lilias's cheeks. The
wretched woman seemed to have fathomed her reluctance, and to be
scoffing at her beneath a pretence of approval; but surely, now that she
had got what she wanted, she would take her departure, and end this most
trying scene. She made a little movement of dismissal, whereupon Miss
Thacker glanced appealingly at the window.
"And our rother dear young friends," she was beginning, when suddenly
she put her hands up to her face and made a curious spluttering noise,
at sound of which the sisters started in dismay. She recovered herself
at once, and continued her harangue with redoubled energy; but suspicion
had been aroused, and could not easily be allayed. That laugh! It had
been so like, so extraordinarily like; and yet that hair--that
complexion--those missing teeth! It could not be! Chrissie drew nearer
and nearer, staring at the stranger with searching scrutiny, met a
direct glance of the eyes, and straightway flew upon her, wrenching off
bonnet and veil, and twitching the horn-rimmed glasses from her nose.
She squeaked and struggled, and fought the air with her woollen gloves,
but it was of no avail: there she sat, discovered and exposed, with
Nan's dark tresses streaming down behind the auburn front, Nan's
dimpling smile breaking over the whitened face.
"Such callous sardness! Dragged my hair out by the roots! Is that the
way you treat your visitors, my dear young friends?" she stuttered; but
her dear young friends had no sympathy for her woes, and crowded round
her, breathless with indignation.
"Wretched, miserable girl, so it was you all the time! What made you do
it?"
"Wanted to amuse you on a wet day, and couldn't think of anything
better. Did I do it well?"
"Abominably well! I could never have believed we should have been so
deceived. How you managed to disguise your voice I can't think, and to
make yourself look so awful. You are as white as a clown; and your
teeth, Nan! What has become of your teeth?"
"Covered them with black sticking-plaster, that's all. Not even for
your benefit, my dears, could I extract my two front molars. I smeared
my face with cold cream, and then rubbed in flour. Sticky, but
efficacious, and sucked a chocolate all the time, to make my voice
thick. I'll swallow it now." Nan gulped, and rolled her eyes in
expressive enjoyment. "When I was dressed, I stole downstairs, let
myself out of the side gate, and rang at the bell as bold as brass.
Mary did not recognise me, so I felt I was safe; but my one terror was
lest you should go upstairs to call me down."
"And you found all the clothes in the dressing-up box! It is so long
since we used it that I had almost forgotten the dear old things. The
shawl and skirt I recognise, of course, but you have trimmed the bonnet
yourself. I will say for you, my dear, that you made the most appalling
old woman I have ever encountered."
"But I don't quite approve of making fun of anything so very, very sad
as those dear incurables!" said Lilias solemnly. "Well, perhaps you
didn't make fun of them exactly, but it was not quite a nice subject to
choose for a practical joke. We ought to think of them tenderly.--By
the by, I want that half-crown, Nan. Give it back to me!"
"N-ay!" drawled Nan, shaking her head, and speaking in broad, North-
country dialect, "N-ay, lass! I'll none give it oop. It mun bide with
me till I dee! I'll give you back good coin of the realm instead, but
this precious piece is mine, and shall be pierced with a hole, and
chained to my side, to commemorate the occasion. It will be good for
you as well as for me. You can look at it, and remember how generous
you were!"
"Humph!" said Lilias, and turned to the tea-table to pour out the long-
delayed tea. It was too strong to drink; and when Mary appeared in
response to the bell, it was a treat to see her stagger back at the
sight of the dishevelled figure in the arm-chair, and to watch the smile
of benign condescension with which Nan wrinkled up her face and inclined
her red-brown head.
Mary was an old friend of the family, and on sufficiently intimate terms
to express her opinion in terms unchequered by forms of politeness. She
wished to be informed what Miss Nan would be up to next, and repeated
with unction her own description of the "Hugliest old woman you ever set
eyes on," as given to cook in the kitchen, ten minutes earlier. "We've
been talking about you ever since, and wondering what you were after."
This was fame indeed! The girls shared in the reflected glory of Nan's
performance, and only regretted that it had not been witnessed by a
larger audience, while Chrissie, in especial, bewailed the absence of
her _alter ego_.
"Kitty will never forgive us if she doesn't see you," she declared.
"Oh, Nan, do go and call upon Mrs Maitland! Then Kitty would see you,
and you might get some more money from her! It would be the most
splendid fun. Oh, Nan, do! I'll love you for ever, if you will!"
Elsie and Agatha swelled the chorus by groans of appeal, and Nan visibly
wavered. She could do nothing until she had had tea, she declared, but
after that, if the rain grew less heavy, she would consider the matter;
and hesitation being taken for assent, she was plied with cake and
waited upon with obsequious attention. The elements seemed in favour of
the scheme, for, by the time that tea was finished, the downpour was
exchanged for a gentle drizzle, which could afford no excuse to a
weather-proof creature like Nan Rendell. She was therefore shawled and
bonneted once more, escorted to the front door by a giggling and excited
quartette, and set off forthwith to tramp half a mile of muddy high
road, half abashed at finding herself abroad in such a strange guise,
altogether delighted at the madcap nature of the expedition.
The visit to Mrs Maitland was a huge success, for Kitty sat staring
solemnly over her spectacles, while her mother had obviously much ado
not to laugh outright at the eccentricities of her visitor. In the
matter of donations she presented a firmer front than Lilias had done,
but Nan would not allow herself to be foiled without a struggle. When
Mrs Maitland said bravely, "I cannot see my way to giving anything more
at present," she bridled as with indignation, and replied--
"But you must not consider yourself, you must consider Me! Here am I,
tramping through mud and mire, drenched with rain, and chilled with
cold; here rare you in your comfortable home, surrounded with luxury and
dease, and you turn a deaf ear to the cause si plead, and let me toil in
vain. No! I cannot gaze upon your good, kind face, and believe in such
callous sardness ... The smallest trifle, if it be but half a crown--"
Well, it seemed a cheap price to pay to get rid of the terrible
creature! Like Lilias, Mrs Maitland meekly handed over the desired
coin, and rose to her feet with an air of determination.
"And now, if you will excuse me! I am rather busy, and--"
Nan bowed and smirked, then suddenly swooped across the room to where
Kitty sat, her arms stretched wide in invitation.
"And will the dear child give me a sweet kiss before ri go?"
The consternation of the "dear child" and her mother can be imagined;
but discovery came with the next moment, together with such shriekings
of delight, such shakings and scoldings, such questionings and
exclaimings, as were proper to the occasion. Nan returned home in high
glee, chuckling over the success of the afternoon's escapade, and far
from suspecting that the chief adventure still was to come. Such was
the fact, however, and this is the way in which it happened.
She had passed along the high road in safety, meeting few inhabitants,
owing to the inclemency of the weather, and looking forward with delight
to the welcome which she would receive from her sisters. Presently
Thurston House came in view, and, sure enough, there were four excited
heads bobbing to and fro at the window, four broad beams of amusement to
testify to the grotesqueness of her appearance. Nan lifted a solemn
glance in return, and Chrissie, seized with a sudden demon of mischief,
pointed a forefinger at the door opposite, and gesticulated violently in
its direction. As plainly as words could speak, that forefinger said,
"Call at the Grange! There's an adventure for you, if you like! Beard
the lion in his den. I dare you to do it! You dare not go!"
It was done on the impulse of the moment, and on the impulse of the
moment Nan turned and skipped obediently across the street. She never
thought of possible consequences; her one idea was to horrify her
sisters by pretending to carry out the suggestion, and the sight of
their agitated faces pressed against the pane was sufficient
encouragement to sustain her courage, as a pull at the bell sent a
pealing chime through the house. The appearance of the old butler in
the doorway did indeed evoke a thrill of nervousness, but then, what
mattered? Visitors were never admitted, and she would certainly be
dismissed, even as the others had been before her!
She quite prided herself upon the _sang-froid_ with which she made the
usual inquiry--
"Mr Vanburgh is at home, I presume? Will he be able to see me this
afternoon?"
"Certainly, madam. Will you walk in? Mr Vanburgh is quite at
liberty."
The horror of it seemed to take away all power of resistance. Did the
man drag her in by force, or did she obey him of her own accord? Nan
could not tell. The awful truth remained that the next moment she stood
within the hall, and the door was shut behind her!
CHAPTER FIFTEEN.
DIOGENES AT HOME.
"This way, please, ma'am. Will you come up-stairs?" said the butler;
and Nan stumbled blindly forward, past the branching palms, the Indian
cabinets, the knight in his glittering armour, past a hundred treasures,
with never an eye to notice one of them, and a heart beating fast with
agitation. The ascent seemed to last for a year, yet it would be over
far too soon; the dreaded moment of introduction would arrive, and, in
the name of all that was horrifying and perplexing, what should she do
then? By what name should she be announced? What should she state as
the object of her visit? What excuse could she offer for her intrusion?
"If I ever get out of this alive, I'll first pay out Miss Chrissie, and
then turn over a new leaf for life! No more practical jokes for me!"
said Nan to herself, and pulled her bonnet resolutely over her face.
The butler had paused, and was looking at her inquiringly as he threw
open the door of his master's room, and waited to announce her name.
She croaked at him,--there is no other word to describe the inarticulate
sound which issued from her lips,--then swept forward, and the man
retired, no doubt thinking the stranger's manner on a par with her
appearance.