LADY MYRTLE'S INTENTIONS.
And Francie, during those few days, was her mother's only confidante.
Various reasons made Mrs Mildmay decide not as yet to come upon the
subject with Jacinth. While still to all intents and purposes so much of
a stranger to her daughter, she felt anxious to avoid all sore or
fretted ground; all discussion which might lead her prematurely to judge
or misjudge Jacinth. To Lady Myrtle, of course, she said nothing of
this; but she suspected, as was indeed the case, that the old lady would
feel no inclination to talk about the Harpers to her young companion.
There were plenty of pleasanter things to talk about during the long
drives on which, on most alternate afternoons, Jacinth accompanied their
hostess; there were reminiscences of the past, always interesting to the
girl, awakened to fresh vividness by Mrs Mildmay's own recollections of
her mother and her own childhood; there were, more engrossing still,
plans for the future, when 'papa' should return and be skilfully
persuaded into renouncing India. And Lady Myrtle was nearly as great at
castle-in-the-air building as Jacinth herself, and though too wise to
discuss as yet with any one, especially with a girl who was really,
notwithstanding her precocity, little more than a child, her still
immatured intentions, Jacinth was far too acute, and Lady Myrtle too
open and affectionate, for her young favourite not to be well aware how
much her own future occupied and interested the old lady. Yet Jacinth
was scarcely selfish in the common sense. She was capable, on the
contrary, of great self-sacrifice for those she loved; her happy visions
for days to come were by no means confined to, even though they might to
a great extent revolve around, Jacinth Mildmay.
As seems often to happen when a looked-for letter, or reply to a letter,
is of any peculiar importance, there was some delay in the
acknowledgment of Lady Myrtle's communication by Mrs Harper. The old
lady herself took it calmly enough. 'It should, as a business letter,
have been replied to at once, but perhaps they are not business-like
people, and are thinking it over,' was all she said.
Mrs Mildmay, on the contrary, and, so far as she understood it all,
Frances, felt uneasy and perplexed. Mrs Mildmay was sorry for the
Harpers to lay themselves open to the slightest appearance of disrespect
or unpunctuality, and at the same time she had attacks of fear that Lady
Myrtle's letter had hurt and wounded her relatives so deeply that they
had decided to ignore it. Only, in that case, they would have returned
the cheque.
'It is very absurd,' she said one evening to Frances. 'I don't generally
"worry" about things at all, and I am quite sure I have never worried
about any matter of our own as much. Except, perhaps, that time you all
had scarlet fever at Stannesley, and somehow Marmy's letter missed the
mail, and we were out of reach of telegraphing. Oh dear, I shall never
forget that week!'
'Dear mamma,' said Francie, 'I quite know how you feel. I was so fidgety
that time I sent on Camilla Harper's letter to you, though it wasn't
anything like as important.'
But the very next morning the mystery was explained, and quite simply.
After breakfast Lady Myrtle sent for Mrs Mildmay to her boudoir, where
she always interviewed her steward and transacted her business for the
day.
'I have just got this, my dear,' she said, handing a letter to her
guest, 'and I knew you would be anxious to see it. The delay, you see,
was accidental.'
Her tone of voice somewhat reassured Mrs Mildmay; it was calm and
unruffled. Nevertheless it was not without considerable anxiety that she
took the sheet of paper from the old lady's hands and began to read it.
It was from Mrs Harper--a touching yet dignified letter, and the cheque
was not returned. Mrs Harper began by thanking Lady Myrtle warmly for
her kindness; the money she had sent seemed indeed a 'godsend' in the
real sense of the word, and no secondary considerations could make her
think it would be right to refuse what might--what, she trusted and
almost believed, _would_ save her husband's life and restore him to
health--'even,' she went on to say, 'if it were _possible_ after this,
for us to think of you as an utter stranger, even then I would not dare
to refuse this wonderful help. But at the same time you will allow us, I
feel sure, to accept it as a loan, even though several years may pass
before it is possible for us to repay it. Your agreeing to this will
only immeasurably deepen, instead of lessening our inexpressible
obligation.' The letter then went on to give a few details of her
husband's condition, and the hopes and fears attendant on it. 'I am
writing in my lodgings,' Mrs Harper went on, 'before going to him as
usual at the hospital. So he does not yet know of this wonderful gift.
And I think, as in your kind thoughtfulness you wrote to _me_, not to
him, I am justified in accepting your aid without consulting him, so
that I may tell him it is _done_. Not that in my heart I have any
misgiving as to the view he will take of my action.' And lastly came a
simple explanation of the delay. Mrs Harper had been for a day or two at
Southcliff, as little Margaret was not well, and the rather stupid
landlady of her London lodgings had never thought of forwarding the
letter, knowing she was so soon to return. This with a few earnest words
of repeated thanks made the whole.
Mrs Mildmay looked up eagerly after she had finished it.
'You are pleased, dear Lady Myrtle?' she said. 'At least I mean,' and
she grew a little confused, for the old lady remained rather ominously
silent, 'you think it is a nice letter, don't you? It seems to me to
show peculiarly good feeling and good taste, for it cannot have been an
easy letter to write.'
'Oh yes, my dear, I quite agree with you,' said Lady Myrtle with just a
faint touch of impatience. 'I don't see how any one could think
otherwise of the letter. I am perfectly satisfied that--she,' as if she
shrank from naming the old name, 'is an excellent woman; refined and
cultivated, and everything she should be. And I have no doubt they are
all thoroughly deserving of the high character they bear. I thank you--I
really do--for having given me the opportunity of serving people who so
clearly deserve help. And these cases of bravely endured, almost
unsuspected poverty among the gently born appeal to one almost more than
the sufferings of the recognised "poor," though, of course, it is right
to help both.'
'Yes,' said Mrs Mildmay, 'I often feel it so. And it is very good of you
to put things in this way, Lady Myrtle. It takes away my qualms about
having interfered,' and she smiled a little.
'But, my dear, I have not done,' Lady Myrtle went on, a trifle testily,
'you must quite understand me. It is not _the very least_--no, no; quite
the other way--not the very least because they are Harpers that I am
glad to be of use to them. Neither this letter, nor your own
arguments--nothing, my dear, will alter the facts I stated to you the
other day.'
'No,' agreed Mrs Mildmay, and she could scarcely repress a little smile;
'that was what I said myself, dear Lady Myrtle; nothing _can_ alter
facts.'
'Your facts and mine are scarcely synonymous,' said Lady Myrtle, drily,
a little annoyed with herself perhaps, for having unconsciously made use
of Mrs Mildmay's own expression. But the annoyance was not deep, for in
another moment she added cheerfully, 'We are quite together on one
point, however, and that is in rejoicing that this help has come in
time, as we may hope, to save a valuable life and much sorrow to those
who cherish it. If _this_ prove a fact, I think, my dear Eugenia, we may
rest content.'
'Yes, indeed,' replied Mrs Mildmay, touched by her old friend's
gentleness, though to herself she added, 'for the present, that is to
say.'
And when to eager little Frances she related the upshot of her
intervention, she did not retract her former words about having made a
beginning.
'I _think_,' she said, 'I have got in the thin end of the wedge. When
honest-minded people are a little shaken in anything, they try hard to
persuade themselves by extra vehemence that they are not so.'
'Mamma, dear,' said Frances, 'I am beginning to believe not only that
you are the best but the very cleverest woman in the world.'
And Mrs Mildmay laughed the joyous laugh which was one of her charms.
The success which had attended this attempt of hers so far, did seem a
happy omen with which to begin again her home life.
* * * * *
It would be interesting here to shift the scene and follow the reception
of the good news by the three anxious girls at Southcliff. It would--to
me at least it would--be so pleasant to tell of the happy faces that
looked at each other with questioning eyes, as if the tidings in their
mother's letter were almost too good to be true. It would be gratifying
to watch the progress made by Captain Harper towards the recovery of
greater health and strength than had been his for so many years, but
even in telling a story--and the simplest of stories--one cannot always
do as one is inclined. The time has not yet come for visiting the
Harpers again. I must hurry on with some necessary explanations before
leaving Thetford and dear old Robin Redbreast for very different
surroundings.
That spring and early summer passed on the whole very happily for Mrs
Mildmay and her three children. As far as Frances and her little brother
were concerned, there were, I think, no drawbacks, except the fear--not,
however, a very great one--that this delightful state of things might
not last if papa should be obliged to return to India. But to a great
extent their mother was able to reassure them, for in every letter
Colonel Mildmay wrote more and more strongly of his earnest desire to
settle at home, even though his doing so should lead to some privations
falling on his family.
'_Everything_ would be made up for by being together,' said Frances
over and over again. 'I wouldn't care if we all had to live in quite a
tiny cottage; would you, Jass?'
But Jacinth replied rather coldly that Frances was a silly child who
didn't know what she was talking about. And Mrs Mildmay smiled, and
endeavoured to prevent any approach to quarrelling, as she assured
Frances that at all events they would be able to afford a comfortable
house.
'I should rather think so,' said Jacinth in an authoritative and yet
mysterious tone. 'I do wish, mamma, you would make Frances leave off
speaking as if we were paupers.'
It is scarcely necessary to say that this conversation and others of a
similar kind did not take place in Lady Myrtle's presence.
And towards the end of July, sooner than he had hoped for, Colonel
Mildmay arrived. They were all still at Robin Redbreast to receive him,
for on hearing how much earlier his leave was to begin than had been
anticipated, Mrs Mildmay gave in to their kind hostess's earnest wish
that they should remain there at least till her husband's coming.
'And as much longer as we can persuade him to stay,' Lady Myrtle added.
'He can so easily run up to town from this, as he is sure to have to be
there often, about these appointments. And then it will be such a
pleasure to his sister to have him near.'
'Oh yes, Thetford is as good a headquarters as we could have at
present,' agreed Mrs Mildmay. 'But Thetford, dear Lady Myrtle, need not
necessarily mean Robin Redbreast, you know! And it would not be
difficult for us to find a nice little house there that would suit us
for the time.'
'Well, well, it will be time enough to see to that when your husband is
here,' replied the old lady.
And Mrs Mildmay, whose nature was not one to anticipate or dwell upon
difficulties or uncertainties in the future which she could not in the
present take action about, gratefully accepted her kind friend's
hospitality, happy in the knowledge that her doing so really gave
happiness to Lady Myrtle in return.
It was very strange to have papa in person, 'as large as life or a
little larger,' said Frances. For they had not pictured to themselves
quite such a tall, grave, rather awe-inspiring personage as he seemed at
first. And they could scarcely understand how their mother could be so
entirely at ease with him; how she could even laugh at him, and tease
him now and then as if she was not 'the least atom' afraid of him.
But there was plenty of fun and humour hidden in the depths of Colonel
Mildmay's dark eyes; it was not altogether wanting even in his sister
Alison, though the circumstances of her life had not brought out several
of the qualities developed by his wider and larger experiences. And
before long his children, the two younger ones especially, got to know
this, and to count upon their father's ever-ready sympathy in even the
more childish of their interests and amusements. And Jacinth for her
part was intensely proud of her father. He suited her in every way;
except that now and then a slight suspicion insinuated itself that this
very grand and dignified papa of hers, affectionate and even caressing
as he could be when he laid his hand on her head and smoothed her soft
hair, was laughing at her a little, which did not at all suit Jacinth's
princess-like ideas of herself.
Still all was very happy, very happy indeed, the sweet summer days
passing only too quickly; and for some two or three weeks nothing was
said about 'plans,' though Colonel Mildmay went up to town more than
once to visit his doctor and the War Office.
Then came an evening on which he returned from a hot day in London,
fagged and rather knocked up, though with a certain expression on his
face which told his watchful and observant wife that he had come to a
decision, which she quietly waited to hear till he sought a good
opportunity for telling it. The opportunity came later, when Lady
Myrtle, a little tired by the unusual heat, had gone to her own room
earlier than her wont, and the girls and Eugene had also said
good-night.
'Come out into the garden, Eugenia. We can talk better there; it seems,
even compared with India, such an airless night.'
'But the stars are beautiful, aren't they, Frank? I do love this place
so,' said Mrs Mildmay as she seated herself on a rustic chair on the
edge of the smooth bowling-green-like old lawn.
'You always find the stars--the bright spots in every sky, I think,
dear,' said her husband. 'I confess I am feeling a little gloomy
to-night, and yet I am glad it is decided.'
'It _is_ decided, then? I thought so,' said Mrs Mildmay gently.
'Yes. It is quite certain that it would be madness for me ever to think
of India again, now or years hence. So I have accepted Barmettle. I send
in the formal papers to-morrow,' and he sighed a little.
'I expected it,' she said. 'I am very thankful, Frank, though you know
how I sympathise with you about your having to--to--come _down_ at all
in position as it were.'
'Doing right can never be really coming down,' he replied. 'And it is
right. The other thing in London would have been impossible, on our
means, and not work enough either. And there is nothing against
Barmettle; the place is healthy and cheap, and good education for
Eugene, and no doubt--the two generally go together--good masters and
governesses for the girls. Socially speaking, of course, there is not
much to recommend the place, though there may be a few nice people
there. But the girls are still very young; we must just do our best, and
make as happy a home for them as we can.'
'Lady Myrtle is sure often to invite them here,' said Mrs Mildmay,
'Jacinth especially. When shall we have to go there, Frank? Will it be
worth while to look out for a temporary house at Thetford, as we had
thought of?'
'Scarcely,' said Colonel Mildmay. This was the question--'When shall we
have to go there?'--which he had been the most dreading. He was glad to
have it over. 'I fear,' he went on, 'you will be rather upset at finding
how soon we have to go. I, at least. You and the children can stay on
here awhile if you like, as dear old Lady Myrtle is sure to want you.
But I myself must be at Barmettle the end of next month.'
'And you certainly shall not go alone,' said Mrs Mildmay, brightly. 'Do
you think I would trust you to choose a house and all the rest of it? If
Lady Myrtle will keep Eugene and one of the girls for a week or two, I
and the other child will go north with you of course, and get settled
before the others join us. There is only one thing I want to ask you,
Frank; don't think it is that I have the faintest idea of making you
change your intention; I do not even _wish_ it. But you have not
actually--officially--accepted the appointment yet?'
'No, not till to-morrow,' he replied.
'Then let me ask you this: Lady Myrtle has been so very, so more than
good to us, that I should like to gratify her in every way we can. So
before _actually_ accepting this, I think we owe it to her to tell her
about it. I know she is dying for you to take the London thing, and I
would like her thoroughly to understand the reasons why you don't.'
'They are very simple and unanswerable,' said Colonel Mildmay, curtly.
'Yes, but Frank, though she has never said it actually, I have
suspicions that she wants to help us practically--to increase our
income,' said Mrs Mildmay with some hesitation.
'My dear child, I could never consent to anything of the kind,'
exclaimed Colonel Mildmay, starting up. 'Her hospitality I am most
grateful for; she may even do things for the children in the future, for
Jacinth, I suppose, especially, as a godmother or a very old friend
might. I am not foolishly proud. If she likes to leave you or Jacinth a
little remembrance in her will, it would not be unnatural. But beyond
that'----
'I know, I know,' interposed his wife, hurriedly. 'Of course I feel the
same. But you see, if we talk this over with her, it will both gratify
her and put things for always in their proper light.'
'Very well; I will do so, then,' said Colonel Mildmay. And then he
turned and looked at his wife, for there was moonlight by this time,
very earnestly. 'I don't doubt you, Eugenia,' he said; 'you _know_ I
never could. But you agree with me entirely, my dearest, do you not? I
could never accept a position of the kind. And above all, when we know
that there are others--the Harpers, I mean--who _have_ claims upon her.
For, but for the grandfather's misconduct, he would have had a good
proportion of what is now Lady Myrtle's.'
'I absolutely agree with you, Frank,' Mrs Mildmay replied. 'And my most
earnest hope is that our good old friend may come to see things in the
right light with regard to her own family. This very conversation which
I am urging may be a means of leading her to do so.'
Mrs Mildmay's courage would perhaps have failed her had she known what
the 'conversation' she alluded to so lightly was really to consist of.
It began by the most strenuous opposition on the old lady's side to the
Barmettle plan. She had set her heart on Colonel Mildmay's accepting the
post in London which was, according to her, 'the very thing to be
desired for him.'
'You would be so near me,' she said. 'Any or all of you could come down
at any time. Robin Redbreast would be your country home.'
Colonel Mildmay smiled gently while he thanked her, and then he reminded
her of the overwhelming difference of the two appointments as regarded
the 'pay.'
'But that needn't--that _would_ not signify,' Lady Myrtle began, though
with evident difficulty in expressing herself, while Mrs Mildmay's heart
beat faster as she realised that they were approaching 'the tug of war.'
'I--you must know--it is only natural;' and with other confused
expressions about Jacinth being to her 'as her own child,' 'no one of
her own kith or kin except the Elvedons,' whose affairs were long ago
definitely arranged, and references to her unforgotten devotion to the
Jacinth of her youth, the old lady plunged into the thick of things. She
had not meant to speak so soon, she said; she had wished her intentions
to be _faits accomplis_ before she disclosed them, but all this had
upset her and she must explain.
And then she told the whole, and Colonel and Mrs Mildmay, though a
little prepared for some announcement of proposed benefit to Jacinth in
the future, listened in appalled and almost stunned silence to Lady
Myrtle Goodacre's eccentric and, in their eyes, extravagant
determination.
Jacinth was to be her heir--all that she had to dispose of, and it was
still a great deal, even without that portion of her wealth which, with
the knowledge that the old lord would have approved of her doing so, she
meant to restore to the title; even shorn of that and of some other
property on the Goodacre side which she only liferented, Lady Myrtle was
a rich old woman. And all she had to leave, short of legacies to certain
hospitals and other benevolent institutions which she had interested
herself in, all was to be Jacinth's. The only landed property was Robin
Redbreast and the small farm belonging to it, but in money there would
be more than enough to keep up three or four places of its size.
Mrs Mildmay's heart sank, as she listened, but so far neither she nor
her husband had interrupted the speaker by word or movement. And she,
gaining confidence by their silence, at last came to the final
announcement.
'So you see, my dear friends, that looking upon Jacinth as I do, it is
only consistent--consistent, and I may say _necessary_--that you consent
to my at once arranging for a proper allowance, whatever you like to
call it, being arranged for her. And this--of course you will agree with
me, that this must be an amount sufficient not only for a thoroughly
good education, but for her to be surrounded by everything right and
fitting for the position she will be called upon to occupy, perhaps not
so very long hence, for I am an old woman. And I do not want to teach or
induce any selfishness or self-assertion; I have the very greatest
respect for parental authority; I will tell her nothing, or only what
you approve of her knowing. But you see how it affects the present
position of things, and your present decision, my dear Colonel Mildmay.'
Colonel Mildmay moved uneasily in his chair, but still he did not speak.
'You must see,' Lady Myrtle proceeded, 'that it would be entirely
inconsistent in these circumstances for you to bury yourself and Eugenia
and the children in a dreadful place like Barmettle. You will, I feel
satisfied, agree that in anticipating the future a little, as it were,
and allowing me at once to--to place a certain income at your
disposal--an income which I am sure Jacinth will continue when things
are in her own hands--you are only acting reasonably and--justly, I may
say, as well as in a manner really to earn my gratitude.'
The old lady's voice trembled ominously: this strange continued silence
was beginning to rouse some apprehension. As she uttered the last
word--'gratitude'--Mrs Mildmay, hitherto entirely quiescent till her
husband thought well to speak, could no longer restrain herself. She
leant forward and caught Lady Myrtle's hand in hers.
'My dear, most kind friend,' she said, and her own voice was tremulous,
'how can you use such an expression? _You_ grateful to us! Ah, no
indeed; as long as we live we shall be at a loss how to show our
gratitude to you.'
'Yes indeed,' said Colonel Mildmay. 'I do not know how to express my
appreciation of all your goodness. I'----
'Then you consent,' exclaimed Lady Myrtle, her bright eyes sparkling.
'You will be my children; you will let me feel that my lonely life is to
have some joy before its close.'
'Indeed, indeed, all we _can_ do, we shall,' said Colonel Mildmay very
gently. 'You cannot ask more affection than we are most ready to give.
But'----He hesitated, and the look of eager satisfaction faded out of
the old lady's face.
'But!' she repeated sharply. 'What "buts" can there be in so simple a
matter?'
It was a distressing position. Colonel Mildmay, essentially a
kind-hearted man and most averse to giving pain, felt it acutely. But he
was not one to temporise. It was a case demanding the plainest speaking.
'My dear Lady Myrtle,' he said, 'if I am blunt or rough, forgive me. It
is just this. I cannot agree to what I think wrong, and I could never
feel it right to agree to what you propose. I am still young enough and
strong enough to work for my family in my profession, and the day I
began to lead an idle, or even a comparatively idle life, would see me a
miserable man. If you are so good as to continue your interest in my
children--Jacinth especially--by asking them to visit you sometimes, we
shall be _most_ grateful. If--if you like to leave Jacinth some little
sum of money in your will which would help or increase any provision I
can make for her, I would be foolish and ungracious in the extreme to
object. But more than this--no, my dear friend, no. For--and here I must
crave your pardon beforehand for what must seem impertinence and
intrusion--not only have we, we Mildmays, _no_ claim upon you,
but--there are those who have.'