DISAPPOINTMENT.
ALDYTH came in fresh and bright from her ride, and her entrance seemed
to bring a breath of new life into the dreary old house. She was
delighted with the mare, and declared that she had never enjoyed a ride
more. Guy, too, seemed in the best of spirits.
"We mean to ride twice a week, Cousin Lucy," he said. "We must get the
Blands to join us sometimes. Hilda could ride Brown Bess."
"Hilda is nervous on horseback," said Miss Lorraine. "Kitty would enjoy
it more."
"Kitty—oh, Kitty is afraid of nothing!" said Guy, lightly. "We could
easily find a mount for her. But Hilda is not so nervous as you think.
I am sure she would not be afraid to ride Brown Bess."
"I dare say not, if you were at hand to take care of her," said Aldyth,
merrily.
Guy coloured slightly.
The evening passed pleasantly away. Nothing more was said about the
lectures. The cousins were in the gayest mood, and old Stephen's eyes
twinkled with amusement as he listened to their merry talk. It seemed
to him that things were just as they should be, and he had not a doubt
that the last, and perhaps the strongest, desire that his imperious
will had conceived would be realized without difficulty.
Miss Lorraine was unusually silent during the remainder of her visit,
but only her uncle, who had reason to know that she was not well
pleased, observed her silence.
The night was so chill that the closed carriage—a very antiquated
vehicle, which Guy was wont to designate as the "bathing machine,"—was
ordered to convey the ladies back to Woodham.
"Let us see you again soon, Aldyth," said her uncle, in the best of
humours as he kissed her. "Remember that your steed will need frequent
exercise, or she will get too skittish even for so good a horsewoman as
you are. What are you going to name her, by the by?"
"Oh, am I to give her a name? You should do that, I think, uncle."
"Not I; she is yours to all intents and purposes. You do not expect me
to mount her?"
"No, indeed; I think she would hardly carry you," said Aldyth, smiling.
"But you are too good to me; you spoil me with kindness. Well, I must
think of a name for her. I have a great mind to call her Pansy; she is
so glossy and bright."
"Pansy! That's the same as Heartsease, is it not? Not a bad name for
her mistress, eh, Guy? But come, sir; surely you are going to escort
these ladies to Woodham?"
"Oh, I don't mind if I do," said Guy, who had evidently not intended to
accompany them.
"Mind, indeed!" repeated his uncle.
"I mean, I shall be happy to do so," he said.
"Ah, that's more like it," returned the old man.
"Pray do not trouble yourself to be so polite, Guy," said Aldyth.
"It is absurd to talk of an escort, when we have old John on the box
to take care of us," called out Miss Lorraine, who had taken her place
within the carriage.
But Guy seemed now to wish to come. "Wait one moment," he cried, and
ran back into the house. In a minute he returned, carrying a long,
odd-shaped bundle, wrapped in newspaper, which he laid carefully on the
seat before him as he took his place.
"Whatever precious thing have you there, Guy?" asked Aldyth, as they
drove off.
Guy looked slightly embarrassed by the question. He unrolled the paper
a little, and displayed a number of fine bulrushes.
"I thought I would leave these for Hilda Bland," he said, awkwardly.
"She was wanting some the other day, and asked me where they could be
found. I got these down Pentlow way; there's some marshy land there."
"It is good to be Hilda," said Aldyth. "You never get bulrushes for me,
Guy."
"I did not know you cared about them," he said.
Aldyth laughed mischievously. Guy's colour rose. Miss Lorraine looked
from one to the other with an air of bewilderment.
"Don't forget to leave the bulrushes," were Aldyth's parting words to
her cousin, as she sprang out of the carriage at her aunt's gate.
"I believe you want me to give you some of them, but I will not," he
said. He got back into the carriage, having declined an invitation to
enter the house, and drove off.
Aldyth came in, looking highly amused.
"What is it?" asked her aunt, seeing the fun sparkling in her eyes.
"What is all this about Hilda and Guy? You surely do not think that
there is anything between them?"
"What do you mean by anything, auntie?" asked Aldyth, laughing.
"Anything serious—anything more than silly trifling."
"It is difficult to imagine Guy serious about anything," said Aldyth;
"but he really seems to have a great fancy for Hilda, and, what
surprises me more, she appears to be falling in love, or fancies that
she is, with him."
"Goodness me! You do not mean to tell me that, Aldyth?" exclaimed Miss
Lorraine.
"Why, auntie, you look quite shocked. Do you think it would be a bad
thing? I certainly think Hilda might do better. I cannot help being
amused by it—Guy is odd and Hilda so romantic; still, it is not a thing
to make fun of, I know."
"Certainly it is not," said Miss Lorraine, with a severity of tone that
surprised her niece. "There would be a terrible to-do if such a thing
were to happen. No, no, depend upon it, Guy is only trifling, Aldyth.
Don't you do anything to encourage it."
"I should not think of doing so," said Aldyth, looking troubled in her
turn. "Do you suppose that uncle would dislike it?"
"Dislike is not the word," replied her aunt; "he would be simply
furious. But why do you say that Hilda might do better, Aldyth? Guy
would make a good husband."
"Would he?" said Aldyth, doubtfully. "But surely not for Hilda. They
have scarcely anything in common. I cannot understand how she can care
for him."
"That is hardly a kind thing to say of your cousin, Aldyth."
"Oh, I do not mean it unkindly. I am fond of Guy," said Aldyth,
innocently; "but I cannot help wishing he were rather different. I do
not think he is the one for Hilda."
"How about yourself?" thought Miss Lorraine. And she sighed, feeling
oppressed by a sense of coming troubles, which she had no power to
avert.
Aldyth was busy arranging in a vase some flowers she had brought from
Wyndham. She looked so happy as she bent over them, her long, slender
fingers giving a touch to this stalk, or a pull to that leaf till she
had got just the effect she desired, that Miss Lorraine shrank more
than ever from the task of communicating Uncle Stephen's wish. But it
had to be done.
"Aldyth," she said at last, "you will be dreadfully vexed at what I
have to tell you; but it's not my fault. Your uncle has taken a strong
dislike to the idea of these lectures, and he wants you to give them
up."
"To give them up?" exclaimed Aldyth, flushing deeply in her surprise.
"To give up the literature lectures because he dislikes them? That is
most unreasonable."
"So I think," said Miss Lorraine; "but it was no use talking to uncle.
He thinks the only knowledge desirable for girls is how to make
puddings and keep a house in good order." And she repeated what Stephen
Lorraine had said about poetry.
Aldyth was too hurt to find amusement in his words, as under other
circumstances she might have done.
"And he asked you to tell me that he wishes me to give up the lectures?"
Her aunt nodded.
"I cannot see that he has any right to expect that I shall yield to his
wish in this matter," said Aldyth, decidedly. "It is not as if he had
any good reason to give. Why he wishes it I cannot imagine."
Miss Lorraine could understand it very well, but she was not going to
enlighten her niece.
"I do not care," said Aldyth, giving her head a little toss; "I shall
not give up the lectures. You cannot expect me to, aunt?"
"My dear, it would be very hard; but it is not wise, you know, to cross
your uncle's will."
Aldyth's face said plainly that she did not care whether it were wise
or not. She rose to bid her aunt good-night. All the brightness had
gone from her manner.
Miss Lorraine kissed her with more warmth than usual.
"I am as sorry as I can be," she said. "I felt quite angry with uncle.
It is a great pity, for Mr. Glynne's lectures are so good and you enjoy
them so much."
"But, I am not going to give them up," said Aldyth. "You need not speak
as if I were."
She went hastily from the room, that her aunt might not see the tears
that had risen in her eyes. Whether she continued to attend the
lectures or not, she felt that her enjoyment of them was spoiled.
As she entered her room, the sight of her writing-table reminded her
of the essay she had meant to finish on the morrow. Would it ever be
finished now? Oh, she wished she had not gone to Wyndham! The thought
of her uncle's kindness in giving her the beautiful horse grew bitter
to her. Since he had done so much to give her pleasure, had he not a
right to expect that she would do as he desired?
Yes; in her secret heart, Aldyth knew that she could not adhere to
her resolve and defy her uncle's anger. She knew it, but it came home
to her forcibly as she glanced at her mother's portrait. It was her
mother's wish that she should please her uncle. This was the most
severe test to which Aldyth's love for the mother she did not know had
ever been put. Her lips quivered as she looked at the beautiful face,
and the tears which had been slowly gathering, began to fall fast. Ah,
she was learning something now of the inexorable demands of duty! She
turned away, sobbing to herself—"If only I could tell her all about it,
if we could talk it over together! She would understand; she would help
me."
But Aldyth needed no further incentive. Her love had stood the test.
The voice of duty had not spoken in vain.
She came down to breakfast the next morning looking languid and
heavy-eyed. "Auntie," she said, directly they had greeted each other,
"I spoke too hastily last night. I was angry, but it is of no use to be
angry; I shall have to submit. Mother would not like me to do anything
that would vex uncle."
"No, she would not," said Miss Lorraine. "She thinks it of great
importance that you should keep in favour with your uncle. You are
acting in the way she would wish; but I am very sorry for you, my dear
child. I know it is a great disappointment."
Aldyth was silent. She did not care to talk about the disappointment.
What to many girls would have been but a trifling sacrifice of
inclination, was to her, with her keen intellectual tastes, a very
great loss.
"I suppose uncle would like me to give up the lectures also," said Miss
Lorraine, with a little laugh; "but happily he did not suggest such a
thing, for I am too deeply committed to the undertaking to abandon it
now. I expect he owes me a grudge for starting the idea."
"I think you may attend them with safety," said Aldyth, making an
effort to speak lightly. "There is little fear that the study of poetry
will unfit you for practical life, render you incapable of making a
pudding, for instance, if cook should fall ill."
Miss Lorraine laughed. "Men attach great importance to cookery," she
said. "Perhaps if Mr. Glynne were lecturing on that subject, uncle
would not object to your attending the lectures."
An hour later Kitty and Hilda Bland came in.
"Have you finished your essay, Aldyth?" Hilda asked.
"No," replied Aldyth.
"No? You are behindhand. I have written eighteen sheets. What length do
you think yours will be?"
"I do not know," said Aldyth, quickly; "I shall finish it for my own
satisfaction, but I shall not send it to Mr. Glynne. I am not going to
any more of the lectures."
"Aldyth! What do you mean?" exclaimed the sisters together. Their
astonishment could not have been greater.
"It is uncle's doing," said Aldyth, speaking with an effort. "He does
not approve of the lectures; he has desired me to give them up."
"I am sure I would not give up the lectures if I cared for them as you
do, Aldyth, for any cross-grained old uncle in the world," said Kitty,
warmly. "I call Mr. Lorraine a thorough tyrant."
"It is not for his sake so much as for my mother's," said Aldyth. "She
would not like me to vex uncle."
"I am afraid I should not respect my mother's wishes if she were all
those miles away," remarked Hilda. "You might write and ask her about
it, and by the time you got her reply, the lectures would be over."
Aldyth smiled. "Nonsense, Hilda," she said; "you would not do so if you
were in my place."
"But you could write the essays and send them to Mr. Glynne, if you did
not attend the lectures," said Hilda. "You shall have the benefit of my
notes. Come, you might do that, Aldyth."
Aldyth shook her head. "It would not be straightforward," she said. "It
would be obeying uncle in the letter but not in spirit. And I ought to
treat him better than that, for he is very good to me. Do you know he
has bought a beautiful chestnut mare on purpose for me to ride?"
"You don't mean it!" exclaimed Kitty. "Well, you are a lucky girl,
Aldyth. I would gladly give up the lectures if any one would give me
a horse—would not you, Hilda? Oh, I forgot you are such a goose on
horseback."
"Hilda must conquer her fears," said Aldyth, smiling, "for Guy has set
his heart on our making a riding party one of these days, and Hilda is
to ride Brown Bess."
Hilda's face flushed with pleasure. "Oh, I am not so nervous as I
used to be," she said, quickly, "and Brown Bess is such a steady old
creature. It is very kind of Guy to think of it. He is kind. Did you
see the lovely bulrushes he brought us last night, Aldyth?"
"Yes, they were fine ones," said Aldyth; "but now, Hilda, please
remember that since I am debarred from attending the lectures, I shall
rely on you to tell me all you can about them. I am afraid aunt's
memory is not very trustworthy where literature is concerned."
"I wonder what Mr. Glynne will think of your keeping away," said Kitty.
Aldyth winced at the remark. It was a thought which had occurred to her
many times already.
"Never mind," said Kitty, good-humouredly, as she read her face; "if I
have a chance, I will let him know that it's not your fault."