THE FIRST ARRIVAL
WHEN Thursday came I could see that Aunt Patty looked forward with some
nervousness to the arrival of her guest. Everything was in readiness.
The Professor would be hard to please if he did not like the pleasant
room, to which aunt had added a bookcase and a writing-table, and
contrived to give quite the appearance of a sitting-room.
"Will he care for any flowers, do you think, Nan?" aunt asked, as we
put the finishing touches to its arrangement.
"Not if he is like the Vicar," I replied.
"He may surely have scholarly habits without being exactly like Mr.
Upsher," aunt said with a smile. "I should put a few if I were you. A
room looks so bare and unhomelike without them."
So I went into the garden and picked half-a-dozen of the lovely
daffodils, which by this time had opened more freely, and put them,
with some of their lance-like leaves, in a tall, slender vase which I
placed on the Professor's writing-table.
I had been in the woods that morning and had brought home some of the
first primroses, smelling so freshly of their mother Earth. Pleased
with the effect of the daffodils, I brought a little bowl which I had
filled with primroses resting amid tiny sprays of ivy, and stood it on
the top of the low bookcase.
"The room does look nice," I said to myself then, "almost too nice for
a dry old professor." I gave the fire a stir and went away to change my
dress, for we did not expect our visitor till close upon dinner-time.
He was coming by the six o'clock train, and Jack had volunteered to
meet him and bring him to "Gay Bowers."
I made my toilet carefully enough to satisfy even Olive. The pretty
evening blouse I wore, with transparent yoke and sleeves, was her
handiwork, and I had the satisfaction of knowing that I looked well
in it. My chestnut-brown hair, which Olive thought pretty, was deftly
coiled, and I observed with some pleasure how well it contrasted with
my black dress, yet I am certain that no idea of pleasing Professor
Faulkner's eye ever crossed my mind. I never imagined that his mighty
intellect could bend to observe the details of a girl's dress.
When I went downstairs I found Aunt Patty reading a letter, from which
she looked up with an eager, excited countenance.
"The Vicar has been in," she said; "he came from Chelmsford and brought
me this letter. When he was at the post-office on his own account,
he thought he might as well ask if there were any letters for 'Gay
Bowers.'"
"You don't mean it!" I exclaimed. "Really I should never have expected
him to be so thoughtful."
"You are too hard on Mr. Upsher, Nan," said Aunt Patty. "I know he is
often dreamy and absent-minded; but when there is a strong necessity
for action, or real trouble anywhere, no one can be more kind and
helpful."
"I am glad to hear it," I said. "But, auntie, the letter? It is surely
not another application?"
"It is," she said, smiling, "and from an American gentleman! His name
is Josiah Dicks, and he wants to know if I can accommodate him and his
daughter, or rather, he calmly announces that they are coming here on
Saturday, hoping to find that I can take them in. If not, he supposes
they can put up at the village inn!"
"The village inn!" I exclaimed with a laugh. "That is hardly the place
to suit a rich American; but, of course, there is a good hotel at
Chelmsford. Is he rich, though?"
"I should imagine so," said my aunt, "since he says that he and his
daughter have been 'all over Europe,' and now want to see a little of
English rural life. It seems too that he is somewhat of an invalid and
country air has been prescribed for him."
"How strange!" I exclaimed. "'Gay Bowers' seems about to be turned into
a convalescent home. But I suppose the daughter is not an invalid. I
shall be glad to have a girl here, if she is nice."
"The ways of American girls do not, I believe, always accord with
English notions of what is becoming," said my aunt; "but I cannot speak
from personal experience."
"Nor can I," was my reply. "I have never known an American girl
intimately. Well, I hope they may prove desirable, for Mr. Josiah Dicks
and his daughter would be a set-off to the Professor."
"You seem to be making rather a bugbear of that Professor, Nan," said
my aunt.
"Not at all," I replied. "I expect him to be an amiable but rather
melancholy individual with a yellow parchment-like skin and a chronic
liver complaint."
I had hardly said the words when I heard the sound of wheels on the
gravel outside. Aunt went quickly out and met Professor Faulkner in the
hall. The rich deep tones in which he responded to her greeting came
agreeably to my ears. Sweep had sprung forward barking angrily, as she
did at every intruder, but was almost instantly quelled. I heard the
stranger speak to her in tones that seemed to accompany a caress, and
Sweep's bark was changed to a whine of pleasure. This was wonderful,
for since uncle's death Sweep had shown herself antagonistic to all
mankind. I began to feel curious, and I went forward, meaning to have a
word with Jack ere he went away.
I could have laughed to think how different from my pre-conception of
him was the individual my aunt now introduced to me. I saw a man rather
above the middle height, upright, of energetic bearing, and looking
little more than thirty years of age. His features were strong and
regular; his eyes, of a deep sea-blue, had a very direct and searching
gaze; his complexion was pale, but devoid of any tinge of yellow. He
had fair hair, which he wore rather long. But detailed description must
fail to portray the vivid, powerful personality with which I then made
acquaintance. I thought later that he reminded me of an old picture of
a Viking king which I had seen somewhere. He looked daring and resolute
enough to be a leader of men. A scholar he certainly was; but no mere
book-worm or dreamy idealist.
[Illustration: AUNT MET PROFESSOR FAULKNER IN THE HALL.]
His appearance so took me by surprise that I hardly knew what to say,
and blushed and stammered as I tried to welcome him, while his eyes
searched my face as if they could read all that was passing in my mind.
The evening had set in wet, but he did not seem to mind the rain in the
least.
"A little water will not hurt me," he said, as Jack helped him off with
his overcoat, "but I must confess I am rather sensitive to cold. That
is the effect of a residence in India; but I shall soon get over it."
"And you are not afraid of the rigours of country life?" aunt said.
"Oh, no; I was brought up in the country, and I love it!" he answered
heartily.
Then aunt took him upstairs to his room, and I was left alone with
Jack, who looked rather out of humour.
"How different from the dry-as-dust old professor we expected!" I said
to him. "He looks quite young."
"He says he is thirty-two," replied Jack. "I don't call that exactly
juvenile."
"It may not seem so to eighteen," I responded loftily.
"I shall be nineteen in July," said Jack hastily, "and you are only a
few months older, so there, Nan."
"I am aware of the fact," I said calmly, "and I consider myself quite
old enough. We were not discussing my age but Professor Faulkner's."
"He does not like to be called Professor Faulkner," said Jack. "He told
me so."
"Did he?" I said. "That is rather sensible of him. He seems very nice."
"Oh, of course, you'll think him so," said Jack impatiently. "Girls are
always taken with a fellow who gives himself airs like that."
"Airs like what?" I asked, but Jack vouchsafed no reply, and aunt
coming downstairs the next moment, he at once said that he must be off.
She detained him while she told him about the Americans, a piece of
news which seemed to cheer him somewhat. Then she reminded him that he
and his father were to dine with us on the following evening, and he
departed.
"Oh, auntie, how different from what we expected!" I said, as soon as
we were alone in the drawing-room. "He is not in the least like the
Vicar."
"Very different from what you expected," she retorted. "He is so
pleased with his room, Nan. He says he feels that he has come to a
haven of rest."
"How nice of him!" I said. "You like him, do you not, Auntie?"
"Yes," she said decidedly. "I feel sure that we shall find him easy to
get on with, and I am not often mistaken in first impressions."
Our guest did not join us till the dinner-gong sounded. When he entered
the dining-room I was glad that I had taken pains with my toilet, for
he was carefully dressed, and a little cluster of my primroses adorned
his dinner-jacket. He saw my eyes rest on them, and said with a smile:
"You cannot think how pleased I was to find some primroses in my room.
It is years since I plucked an English primrose."
"You will be able to do so here," said my aunt; "they are coming out in
our woods, and will be plentiful in a week or two."
"I am so glad to hear it," he said simply. "They will be a delight to
me."
"Then you are not like the immortal Peter Bell?" I said, speaking my
thought almost involuntarily.
"By no means," he said, smiling, "since all the joys of my childhood
seem to live again for me when I see a primrose."
We got on marvellously well together on that first evening. Aunt and
I found him such an interesting companion that we almost forgot how
recent our acquaintance was. He talked a good deal about his life in
India, and it was evident that he had relinquished his work there with
great reluctance. He had met with sundry adventures there, too, of
which he spoke in the simplest fashion, but which showed me he was a
man of fine courage and a good sportsman. I thought that Jack would
like him better when he came to know more about him.
He made very light of the health failure which had brought him home. It
was the result of the warm, moist climate of the place of his sojourn.
He had got the better of the feverish attacks which had prostrated him.
What he lacked now was nervous strength, and that he believed the fresh
air and repose of the country would soon restore.
When he said this, Aunt Patty explained that I too was suffering from
nervous exhaustion, and, rather to my vexation, told the story of my
disappointment. But as I met his look of perfect comprehension and
sympathy, I felt that I did not mind in the least.
"Ah, Miss Nan, don't I know what that meant for you!" he said. It was
strange how from the first he fell into the way of addressing me as
"Miss Nan," just as if he had known me all my life. And stranger still
it was that, though I was rather wont to stand on my dignity, I felt no
inclination to resent his thus dispensing with ceremony.
"It did seem hard at first," I murmured, "but now I don't mind."
"I know," he said. "It went sorely against the grain with me when
I found that I must resign my post at the college, and go back to
England. My students were very dear to me, and I hoped that I was
impressing some of them for good. But there was no alternative—if
I would go on living. So you and I have the same duty before us at
present—to lay up a fresh store of energy."
"I have found it an easy duty so far," I said cheerfully.
"Indeed, in this fair home, with the spring unfolding about us, and all
the lovely summer to come, it promises to be a delightful one," was his
ready response.
So a bond of mutual comprehension was at once established between me
and Alan Faulkner.
Aunt Patty got on with him equally well, and I could see by the way
in which he listened to her and deferred to her that he felt the
attraction of her unaffected goodness and kindness.
Nor was the Vicar less pleased when he made the acquaintance of our
guest on the following evening. He found an affinity with the Professor
at once, and showed a desire to monopolise his attention; but whenever,
as we sat at the table, their talk threatened to become too abstruse,
Mr. Faulkner would seek, by some explanatory word, to draw me and aunt
into it, or would try to divert it into a more ordinary channel. How
deep they plunged, or how far back in human history they went after we
left them to themselves, I cannot say. Their conversation soon wearied
Jack, for within five minutes, he joined us in the drawing-room.
Jack was in rather a perverse mood.
"I suppose that is the sort of chap the governor would like me to be,"
he growled, "able to jaw on learned subjects in that conceited fashion."
"Then I am afraid he will be disappointed," I said severely; "for even
if you succeed in passing your exam, you will never be in the least
like Mr. Faulkner."
"I am exceedingly glad to hear it!" he said with a disagreeable laugh.
It was so odd of Jack to take such a dislike to the Professor. I
never saw the least trace of conceit in his bearing, and he showed
the utmost consideration for Jack. I was vexed with the boy for being
so unreasonable; but it was of no use my saying anything—he only grew
worse.
For my part the more I saw of Alan Faulkner, the better I liked him. I
was glad we had time to get well acquainted with him before any other
guests arrived. For aunt's sake I was, of course, glad, but otherwise I
could have regretted that the Americans were coming on the morrow.