A SECRET SORROW.
"Nor know we anything so fair
As is the smile upon thy face."
THESE words were in Aldyth's mind as she sprang up the next morning.
The new duty which had come to her, the duty of making a home for
her mother and sisters, and doing all in her power to promote their
happiness, was very pleasant to the girl's loving heart. It was an
easy transition from Wordsworth's familiar ode to the thought of John
Glynne. She remembered that he had once spoken to her of the poem. He
had appeared to feel strongly the force of the epithet stern as applied
to duty. But duty had no sternness for Aldyth at this moment; her
inheritance had ceased to be a burden, now that she could share it with
others.
The thought of John Glynne lingered in Aldyth's mind while she was
dressing. She remembered that the date had passed at which the Grammar
School usually reopened, so no doubt John Glynne had returned to
Woodham. The year had almost come round to the period at which last
year he began his course of lectures. Would he be persuaded to give
another course this autumn? Aldyth hoped so, with all her heart. She
felt eager to ask her aunt if any such arrangement had been made. If
Mr. Glynne gave lectures, she meant to attend them. There was assuredly
no good reason why she should not. The distance might be considered a
difficulty, but she could have the carriage, and if old John objected
to being kept out so late, she would ask her aunt to let her stay at
the Cottage for the night.
The pleasant prospect suggested by the lectures heightened the good
spirits in which Aldyth had awoke. As she drew up her blind she saw
with satisfaction that, though clouds still hung low in the sky, the
sun was shining on the soaked lawn and well-washed trees. She hastened
to her mother's room.
Mrs. Stanton confessed to having slept "pretty well," but felt unequal
to rising at present.
Aldyth next visited her sister.
That young lady still lay in her bed, looking charmingly at her ease
and perfectly well, but she at once consented to Aldyth's proposal that
her breakfast should be sent to her.
"What a curious old room this is!" Gladys said, looking about her with
amused eyes. "Do you know I was horribly afraid last night that a ghost
would walk out of that cupboard? And I never slept on a bedstead of
this description before. It makes me feel as if I were Queen Elizabeth,
or some one remarkable. Did Queen Elizabeth ever come to Wyndham?"
"Not that I am aware of," said Aldyth, smiling.
"Then I need not be afraid of her ghost," said Gladys. "Shall I always
sleep here?"
"Not if there is another room you like better," said Aldyth. "I could
not but give mamma and aunt the best rooms last night. If I had known
you would be coming so soon, I would have had a room got ready for you
in a style more to your taste. We could easily make a pretty room of
this."
"Yes, we could," said Gladys, eagerly. "Get rid of this catafalque of
a bed and that hideous looking-glass, which gives me the flat, square
visage of a Dutchwoman, and have a pretty French bed with pale blue
drapery—blue is so becoming to me."
"Very well, I'll remember that important fact," said Aldyth.
"I will plan all the room, and tell you how it must be when you come
up again," said Gladys. "Ah, is that the sun shining? I am glad. When
shall I have a ride, Aldyth?"
"Have you a habit with you?" asked her sister.
"Oh yes; it is in one of the trunks; I don't know which," Gladys
replied. "I had a new one soon after you left us, Aldyth. It is dark
blue cloth, and I look so nice in it. I rode in the Park several times.
Mamma got Captain Walker to escort me once. But I forget that I am in
mourning. I shall have to wear my old-black one, I suppose. What a
bore!"
"Well, as soon as you can get your habit unpacked, we will see about a
ride—weather permitting," Aldyth said.
And she went down stairs, leaving Gladys in the best of humours.
Aldyth and her aunt, who had stayed the night at Wyndham, breakfasted
together.
"Auntie," said Aldyth, as she came back from carrying her mother's
breakfast to her, "are there to be lectures at Wyndham this autumn?"
"Ah, I am afraid not," said Miss Lorraine, shaking her head. "I have
not told you that we are going to lose Mr. Glynne."
"To lose Mr. Glynne!" repeated Aldyth, colouring and turning a startled
look upon her aunt.
"Yes, indeed," said Miss Lorraine, "it is a great pity, but I always
felt he was too good for Woodham. He has got a good appointment
abroad—the head mastership of some school or college at the Cape, I
believe."
Aldyth hastily seated herself behind the urn. She felt that she had
grown white and cold; the news was affecting her in a way she could
hardly understand.
"How soon does he leave?" she ventured to ask, after a minute.
"Oh, his connection with the Grammar School is already severed," said
her aunt. "Dr. Wheeler allowed a friend of Mr. Glynne's to take his
place. Of course the boys do not like it, and their parents are all
sorry to lose Mr. Glynne."
Aldyth silently busied herself with the coffee. Her hands trembled as
she lifted the cups.
"Then I shall see him no more," was the thought that pressed painfully
on her mind.
"He is coming down here again for a day or two before he leaves the
country," said Miss Lorraine, after a pause, "just to get his things
and say good-bye to his friends, you know. He could hardly leave us
without a word."
"I suppose not," said Aldyth, with a coolness which might have been
mistaken for indifference.
"I am very sorry he is going away," said her aunt. "As you know, I took
to him from the first. One does not meet with such a man every day. It
will be a grief to his mother to part with him."
"Yes," said Aldyth, finding it easy to respond to this remark.
Miss Lorraine talked on, discussing the event from various points of
view, and apparently quite satisfied with Aldyth's brief rejoinders.
Aldyth made but a pretence of breakfasting. She was oppressed by a
strange heart-sickness, which took away all the joy of her return, and
robbed Duty of the bright aspect it had worn to her that morning.
"I might have known he would not stay long at Woodham," she said to
herself. "He was so different from any one else I ever knew."
There were various little matters at Wyndham awaiting Aldyth's
attention. She went through the business of the morning with a weight
of disappointment on her mind. About noon she helped her mother to
dress. Gladys, who had been long up, and had made a tour of the
house under the guidance of Miss Lorraine, might have waited on her
mother; but Mrs. Stanton seemed to prefer the attentions of her eldest
daughter, and Gladys willingly gave place to Aldyth.
The morning had been showery, but by the time they all met at luncheon
the sun seemed to have conquered the clouds, and there was the prospect
of a fine afternoon.
Aldyth asked her aunt, who was about to return to Woodham, if she would
like to drive in an open carriage.
"Yes, certainly; it will be much pleasanter," said Miss Lorraine. "Will
you not come with me, Aldyth?"
"I do not know whether mamma can spare me," said Aldyth, looking at her
mother.
But ere Mrs. Stanton could speak, Gladys said, eagerly—"Oh, do let me
go, Aldyth. I want to see what Woodham looks like in fine weather."
"Very well, you shall go," said Aldyth, "and I will stay with mamma."
"No, you go too, my dear," said her mother, "if there is room for you
all in the carriage. The drive will do you good."
"The phaeton will take us all, if I drive," said Aldyth. "But I do not
like to leave you alone, mamma. You will feel so dull."
"No, dear; it will be good for me to rest quietly," said her mother. "I
would rather you went, indeed."
It had occurred to her that she would be glad to avail herself of the
opportunity thus afforded to wander through the old house alone, or
attended by the housekeeper, whom she wished to question on matters
concerning old Mr. Lorraine, about which she was curious.
After a little more persuasion, Aldyth consented to leave her mother to
herself, and half an hour later drove off with her aunt and sister to
Woodham. Midway they met Guy on horseback.
Aldyth felt the colour rush into her face as she remembered the last
talk she had had with her cousin. But Guy's sangfroid was equal to
the occasion. No one could look more unconscious of any cause for
constraint. He nodded and raised his hat in the easiest manner in
greeting to Miss Lorraine and Aldyth, as he reined in his horse, thus
compelling Aldyth to draw up also, then cast a quick, admiring glance
at the pretty girl on the back seat, whose delicate complexion and
sunny hair were thrown into strong relief by her sombre attire.
"So you have come back, Aldyth," he said, carelessly. "When did you
arrive?"
"Last evening," said Aldyth. "Let me introduce you, Guy, to my sister,
Miss Stanton."
The air of admiration with which Guy made his bow was agreeable to
Gladys. She liked the glance that lingered upon her, and the smile with
which he said—
"You must have thought you were coming into a second deluge when you
arrived last night, Miss Stanton. I shudder to think what Wyndham must
have looked to you with the fields about it all swamped."
Gladys gave a light little laugh. "It had a dismal appearance, I must
confess," she said. "Aldyth had prepared me for a scene of desolation,
but the reality surpassed all the efforts of my imagination. I thought
of the prisoner of Chillon, and pictured myself spending weary days and
nights within water-girt walls. But happily the sunshine has relieved
me of that horror."
"Wyndham is a dismal hole, though," said Guy. "Woodham is bad enough,
but Wyndham is a few degrees worse."
"Don't depress me," said Gladys. "I am on my way to discover all the
excitements your town can afford."
"Not many excitements, I fear," said Miss Lorraine, whilst Guy shrugged
his shoulders significantly. "After all the pleasures you have enjoyed
in town and at the seaside, our amusements will seem very commonplace."
"But there are pleasures peculiar to a country life, are there not?"
said Gladys with an air of simplicity. "Hay-making, for instance.
I should like to try that. I can fancy myself in a great hat, with
a pitchfork in my hand, tossing the hay. It would be so charmingly
idyllic."
"It would be if you turned haymaker," said Guy, with a meaning glance;
"unfortunately the hay-harvest is over, but there are other country
occupations—there is the shooting now, you know. But I forget, ladies
do not shoot. They hunt, though, occasionally."
"Ah, that is what I should like to do," said Gladys; "if we do not
share it, we like to hear about your sport. Do come in sometimes and
tell us how the shooting goes."
"With pleasure," said Guy, as Aldyth gave her horse a touch and it
moved on.
Guy looked his best on horseback, and Gladys was much impressed by her
introduction to him.
"You never told me, Aldyth," she said, "how very good-looking your
cousin was."
"Do you think him so?" Aldyth said.
"There can be no doubt that Guy is a handsome man," said Miss Lorraine,
decisively; "one seldom sees such regular, well-cut features."
"Handsome is that handsome does," Aldyth reminded herself, as she
thought of the suffering that attractive person had inflicted on Hilda
Bland.
Having driven to Myrtle Cottage, and seen Miss Lorraine and her
packages duly received by the little housemaid, the girls drove on
slowly down the High Street, Gladys glancing about her with amusement,
and well aware that she was an object of attention.
"How the people do stare!" she said. "One would think they never saw a
stranger. Really, this is quite bustling, Aldyth. I did not expect to
see such a crowded thoroughfare. It reminds me of Bond Street in the
season."
"It does not remind me of Bond Street," said Aldyth, smiling. "This
large house on the right is the home of my friends, the Blands; but
Kitty and Hilda are away just now."
"Is not Hilda Bland the girl to whom your cousin was engaged?" asked
Gladys.
"Yes," said Aldyth, reluctantly, not wishing to discuss that subject
with Gladys.
"Whose fault was it that the engagement came to nought?" asked Gladys.
"Did she care much for him?"
"A great deal more than he deserved," said Aldyth, her tones, in spite
of herself, expressing indignation.
"Girls are sillies," said Gladys, emphatically. "There never yet was a
man worth breaking one's heart for. But who is this one coming towards
us, Aldyth? He looks rather nice."
Aldyth had already recognized the individual in question, and her heart
had given a leap at the sight of him; but she answered quietly enough—
"That is Mr. Glynne. He was one of the masters at the Grammar School;
but he is about to leave the town."
"What a pity! I like the look of him," said Gladys. "He is not
good-looking, but he has the air of a gentleman."
"He is a gentleman," Aldyth could not help saying.
She was drawing in her horse before the door of the library when he
came in sight round a turn in the street. It would have been easy for
him, as they were about to alight, to step across the street to speak
to Aldyth; but the idea did not appear to occur to him. He lifted his
hat courteously, and passed on along the opposite pavement.
A keen, cruel pain seized upon Aldyth. She hardly heard the remarks
Gladys was making, or knew how she transacted the business that took
her into the shop. One thought possessed her—the thought that John
Glynne had only come for a day or two, and that he would go away
without her having exchanged a word with him. And yet he could have
spoken to her then; and he would not take the trouble to cross the road
that he might do so! It was most mortifying to be treated so by one
whom she had counted a friend.
With a sense of intolerable shame, Aldyth took herself to task for
feeling more interest in John Glynne than he apparently felt in her.
But though she was ashamed of it, the feeling was not to be crushed in
a moment. Thoughts full of pain and disappointment occupied her mind as
they drove home, making it difficult for her to pay proper attention to
what Gladys was saying.
"It is growing cold," Gladys remarked, with a shiver, as they turned
into the carriage drive to Wyndham; "the days are so short now. It will
soon be winter."
Aldyth roused herself with an effort, and tried to recover a bright
demeanour ere she saw her mother; but she felt as if winter had already
begun.