Phil's mother was in every sense a weak woman. She was not strong enough
to be either very good or very bad; she had a certain amount of daring,
but she had not sufficient courage to dare with success. She had a good
deal of the stubbornness which sometimes accompanies weak characters,
and when she deliberately set her heart on any given thing, she could be
even cruel in her endeavors to bring this thing to pass. Her husband and
the elder Rupert Lovel, of Belmont, near Melbourne, were brothers. Both
strong and brave men, they had married differently. Rupert's wife had in
all particulars been a helpmeet to him; she had brought up his children
to be brave and strong and honorable. She suffered much, for she was a
confirmed invalid for many years before her death; but her spirit was so
strong, so sweet, so noble, that not only her husband and children, but
outsiders--all, in fact, who knew her--leaned on her, asked eagerly for
her counsel, and were invariably the better when they followed her
advice. Philip Lovel's wife was not a helpmeet to him; she was weak,
exacting, jealous, and extravagant. She was the kind of woman whom a
strong man out of his very pity would be good to, would pet and humor
even more than was good for her. Philip was killed suddenly in a railway
accident, and his widow was left very desolate and very poor. Her boy
was then five years old--a precocious little creature, who from the
moment of his father's death took upon himself the no light office of
being his mother's comforter. He had a curious way even from the very
first of putting himself aside and considering her. Without being told,
he would stop his noisy games at her approach and sit for an hour at a
time with his little hand clasped in hers, while he leaned his soft
cheek against her gown and was happy in the knowledge that he afforded
her consolation. To see him thus one would have supposed him almost
deficient in manly attributes; but this was not so. His gentleness and
consideration came of his strength; the child was as strong in mental
fiber as the mother was weak. In the company of his brave Cousin Rupert
no merrier or gayer little fellow could have been found. His courage and
powers of endurance were simply marvelous. Poor little Phil! that
courageous spirit of his was to be tested in no easy school. Soon after
his sixth birthday those mysterious attacks of pain came on which the
doctor in Melbourne, without assigning any special cause for their
occurrence, briefly spoke of as dangerous. Phil was eight years old when
his mother's great temptation came to her. She saw an English newspaper
which contained the advertisement for the Avonsyde heir. Her husband had
often spoken to her about the old family place in the home country. She
had loved to listen to his tales, handed down to him orally from his
ancestors. She had sighed, and groaned too, over his narratives, and had
said openly that to be mistress of such an old ancestral home was her
ideal of paradise. Philip, a busy and active man, spent no time over
vain regrets; practically he and his elder brother, Rupert, forgot the
existence of the English home.
Rupert had made a comfortable fortune for himself in the land of his
adoption, and Philip too would have been rich some day if he had lived.
Mrs. Lovel, a discontented widow, saw the tempting advertisement, and
quickly and desperately she made her plans. Her little son was
undoubtedly a lineal descendant of the disinherited Rupert Lovel, but
also, and alas! he was not strong. In body at least he was a fragile and
most delicate boy. Mrs. Lovel knew that if the ladies of Avonsyde once
saw the beautiful and brave young Rupert, Phil's chance would be
nowhere. She trusted that Rupert Lovel the elder would not see the
advertisement. She sold her little cottage, realized all the money she
could, and without telling any one of her plans, started with her boy
for England. Before she left she did one thing more: she made a secret
visit to Belmont, and under the pretext of wishing to see her
sister-in-law, sat with her while she slept, and during that sleep
managed to abstract from the cupboard behind her bed the old silver
tankard and a packet of valuable letters. These letters gave the
necessary evidence as to the genuineness of the boy's descent and the
tankard spoke for itself.
Mrs. Lovel started for England, and during her long voyage she taught
Phil his lesson. He was to forget the past and he was to do his very
utmost to appear a strong boy. She arrived at Avonsyde, was kindly
welcomed, and day after day, month after month, her hopes grew great and
her fears little. Phil played his part to perfection--so his mother
said--not recognizing the fact that it was something in the boy himself,
something quite beyond and apart from his physical strength, which threw
a sweet glamour over those who were with him, causing them to forget the
plainness of his face and see only the wonderful beauty of the soul
which looked through the lovely eyes, causing them to cease to notice
how fragile was the little frame which yet was so lithe and active,
causing them never to observe how tired those small feet grew, and yet
how willingly they ran in grateful and affectionate service for each and
all. Cold-hearted, cold-natured Miss Griselda was touched and softened
as she had never been before by any mortal. She scarcely cared to have
the boy out of her sight; she petted him much; she loved him well.
Mrs. Lovel hoped and longed. If once Rachel's birthday could be passed,
all would be well. When the ladies appointed Phil as their heir, he was
their heir forever. Surely nothing would occur to interfere with her
darling projects during the short period which must elapse between the
present time and that eventful day two months hence.
As Mrs. Lovel grew more hopeful her manner lost much of its nervous
affectation. In no society could she appear as a well-educated and
well-read woman, but on the surface she was extremely good-natured, and
in one particular she won on the old ladies of Avonsyde. She was
practiced in all the small arts of fancy needlework. She could knit; she
could crochet; she could tat; she could embroider conventional flowers
in crewels. The Misses Lovel detested crewel-work, but Miss Katharine
was very fond of knitting and Miss Griselda affected to tolerate
crochet. Each night, as the three ladies sat in the smaller of the large
drawing-rooms, the crochet and the knitting came into play; and when
Mrs. Lovel ventured to instruct in new stitches and new patterns, she
found favor in the eyes of the two old ladies.
On the night of Phil's illness the poor woman sat down with an inward
groan to give Miss Griselda her usual evening lesson. No one knew how
her heart beat; no one knew how her pulse throbbed nor how wild were the
fresh fears which were awakened within her. Suppose, after all, Phil
could not keep up that semblance of strength to the end! Suppose an
attack similar to the one he had gone through to-day should come on in
Miss Griselda's presence. Then, indeed, all would be lost. And
suppose--suppose that other thing happened: suppose Rupert Lovel with his
brave young son should arrive at Avonsyde before the 5th of May. Mrs.
Lovel could have torn her hair when Phil so quietly told her that he had
written to young Rupert, and that even now a reply might be waiting for
him at Southampton. She knew well that Rupert's father would remember
how near Avonsyde was to Southampton. If the boy happened to show Phil's
letter to his father, all would be lost. Mrs. Lovel felt that she could
not rest until she went to Southampton and secured the reply which might
be waiting for Phil at the post-office. These anxious thoughts made her
distraite; and bravely as she wore her mask, one or two sighs did escape
from her anxious breast.
"How silent you are!" suddenly exclaimed Miss Griselda in a snappish
tone. "I have asked you the same question three times! Am I to crochet
twelve or thirteen stitches of chain? Oh, you need not trouble to
answer; I am putting away my work now. The pattern is not working out at
all properly. Perhaps you are anxious about Phil. If so, pray do not let
me detain you. It is a great mistake to coddle children, but I suppose a
mother's foolishness must be excused."
"You quite mistake. I am not the least anxious," answered poor Mrs.
Lovel, who was in reality on thorns. "I am so very sorry that I did not
hear your question, dear Miss Griselda. The fact is, I have been
wondering if I might ask a little favor. I should like to go to
Southampton to-morrow morning. Can you spare the carriage to send me to
the railway station?"
Miss Griselda stared.
"Can I spare the carriage?" she repeated haughtily. "I was not aware
that you were a prisoner at Avonsyde, Mrs. Lovel. Of course you can go
in or out as you please. Pray send your own orders to the stables."
Mrs. Lovel was profuse in her thanks, Miss Griselda as cross and
ungracious as possible. The fact was the old lady was longing to pay
Phil a visit in his room, and would have done so had she not feared his
mother accompanying her. The poor unhappy mother would have given worlds
to be with her boy, but dreaded Miss Griselda's comments.
The next day, early, Mrs. Lovel went to Southampton, executed a few
commissions in order to give color to her expedition, fetched Phil's
letter from the post-office, and returned home, burning with impatience
to read its contents. She would not have scrupled to open the envelope
had not Phil implored of her, just when she was starting on her journey,
to let him have this pleasure himself.
Phil was much as usual the next morning, and he and Aunt Grizel and
Kitty had gone off on an expedition into the forest to look for mosses.
When Mrs. Lovel got back the little party had not returned. She had
still to control her impatience, and after taking a hurried lunch went
up to her tower bedroom. She laid the letter with the Australian
postmark on the writing-table and paced in a fever of anxiety up and
down the small room. Suddenly it occurred to her to beguile the slow
moments with some occupation. Why should she not open that trunk which
contained old reminiscences and one or two articles of value? Why should
she not open it and put its contents in order, and take out the precious
tankard and clean it? This task would give her occupation and cause the
weary moments to pass quickly.
She stooped down and was startled to find that the key was in the lock.
How very, very stupid of her to have left it there! When had she been
guilty of so dangerous a piece of negligence? With trembling fingers she
raised the lid of the trunk and began to search for the tankard. Of
course she could not find it. Suddenly she heard footsteps approaching
and half-rose in an expectant attitude. Her little son came quickly in.
"Oh, mother, have you brought my letter?"
"Yes; it is on the table. Phil, there was a silver tankard in this
trunk, and I can't find it."
Phil had flown to his letter and was opening it eagerly.
"Phil, do you hear me? I can't find the silver tankard."
He went up at once to his mother.
"I beg your pardon, mother. I am so dying to see what Rupert says! A
silver tankard? Oh, yes; that old one they always had at Belmont; the
one Gabrielle was so proud of. I did not know they had given it to you.
Oh, mother, I am sorry. Do you know, I never thought of it until this
minute."
"Thought of what? Speak, child; don't keep me on thorns!"
"I found it, mother, and I took it out with me that day when I was
nearly drowned in the bog. I had it with me that day."
"Well, boy, well! Where is it now?"
"I don't know. I don't remember a single thing about it. I think I had
it with me in the bog. I'm almost sure I had, but I can't quite
recollect. Perhaps I dropped it in the bog. Mother, what is the matter?"
"Nothing, child. I could shake you, but I won't. This is terrible news.
There! read your letter."
"Mother darling, let us read it together. Mother, I didn't know it was
wrong. Kiss me, mammy, and don't look so white. Oh! I am almost too
happy. Mother, Rupert says when I am reading this he will be in
England!"
"Then we are lost!" said Mrs. Lovel, pushing the slight little figure
away from her. "No, no, I scarcely love you at this moment. Don't
attempt to kiss me. We are utterly lost!"