CHAPTER IX

THE FIRST MARRIAGE IN THE FAMILY

THE party came back from London after a stay of nearly a month. Annie

and Honora met them at the station. With them came a gentlemanlike man,

who was introduced as "My friend, Mr. Stanhope." The girls looked very

happy; Frances looked her very best.

"Have you heard from Piers, Honora? We have not seen him for at least a

week. He is so busy."

"You could not easily see him, for he has been here since Saturday

week; and he is very well, and likes his new life."

"Oh, I am glad he contrived to get away! He came every day for a time,

and then he did not think that he could leave London. Miss Vandeleur,

Dr. Egerton is here."

"Yes, I know he is," was the reply.

"Here he comes," said Annie. "He was at Dr. Musgrave's."

When they got into the lighted parlour, no one could look at any one

but Violet. That young lady, who had hitherto worn her hair hanging

over her shoulders in an untidy mass, now had it piled up in artistic

waves high on her head, and it was exceedingly becoming to her. So was

a soft, dark dress, which softened the angles of her girlish figure. As

for Daisy, she was always pretty, but she looked lovely now.

Much talk went on, but through it all the stranger, whom Dr. Egerton

had greeted as an acquaintance, sat in a quiet corner and watched

Marian. Piers glanced at him in an anxious way until he saw that

Honora observed him. Later, when he was about to leave them (for he

was nominally on a visit to Dr. Musgrave), Mr. Stanhope said he was

accompanying him as he wanted to smoke.

Next day, as the sisters sat together chatting, Miss Vandeleur came in.

"Annie," she said, "will you come to my room for a few minutes? I want

to confess my sins. I have taken what Honora would consider a liberty

with you, and I want to talk to you."

Poor Annie, who between fretting and anxiety looked so worn that she

might have been forty instead of six-and-twenty, followed listlessly.

As soon as they were both seated, Miss Vandeleur said pleasantly—

"Your sister Honora is so fiercely independent that I should be quite

afraid to confess to her that I have been meddling in—in 'your'

concerns, Annie. I wish sincerely to give you all a helping hand. I

coaxed Marian to tell me your difficulty, and I appealed to a friend in

the army. I have purchased Ernest Wilkinson's discharge, and—"

But poor Annie had sprung up, her face suddenly losing the listless

look.

"Oh, have you done that? Have you saved him? I shall bless you as long

as I live. I've been so miserable! I couldn't bear to think of him; he

was so unhappy. You have made me—" Here her voice was lost in sobs.

"You are very fond of him, Annie?"

"Any one would be fond of him," was the answer.

"I do not think that I should, I must confess. If he were able to

support a wife, would you marry him?"

"If he—asks me—again, when that time comes."

"Well, I have a friend who, as secretary to the governor of Brisbane,

requires the services of a clerk. He is in England, but goes back next

month. He has promised me to give Ernest Wilkinson this chance. The

salary is a hundred and fifty pounds a year, and the appointment is

permanent if the man behaves well. Men are difficult to get out there,

and as long as he gives satisfaction, he is pretty sure of his place.

Young Wilkinson knows of this, and he will be here to-morrow. I would

advise you to let him go alone, if I thought you would listen to me;

conscience compels me to say this."

Annie laughed and said, "I have heard that advice pretty often. But

Ernest is very fond of me, and is always quite content and steady as

long as he is with me. He is one who cannot do without a home, and if

he asks me, I will try to make a home for him. I always told him he

must ask me when the time came; I never would be engaged to him. And

whether he does, or does not, I shall be thankful to you for giving him

this chance, the best he ever had."

"Do not thank me. I am doing this for reasons of my own. I have plans,

which do not affect you."

"I must go and tell Marian," cried Annie.

Early next day, Piers Egerton came to the castle, and found Honora

waiting for him at the gate. They walked on together.

"Piers, tell me about Mr. Stanhope. He was brought here to see Marian,

I think."

"You little witch! I was afraid you guessed. Yes, Miss Vandeleur asked

me to name the best man in cases such as hers, and I named Stanhope. If

anything can be done, he is the man to do it. Do you think Marian would

be frightened about herself if he spoke to her?"

"She has Dr. Elliott's opinion—we write to him, you know—and she has

yours. We do not need Miss Vandeleur's help. For Marian, one would

perhaps accept it, but it is not altogether for her. And he can do

nothing for her. Oh, Piers, you know that!"

"Stanhope is wonderfully skilful; and as he is here, do you think she

would be frightened?"

"Do you know her so little as to fear that? Marian knows—what we all

know, and as her favourite hymn says, she 'dreads the grave as little

as her bed.' And why is she to be annoyed because of Miss Vandeleur's

plans?"

"Honora, you don't like Miss Vandeleur, but be just to her. Come now,

Honourbright."

"You are mistaken; I 'do' like her. She is very pleasant always. But

I have known ever since she came here that she has some plan in her

head about us. She has now got to know us all, and I think her plan has

taken shape; and you will see that she will settle everything about all

of us to suit that plan. She has made Vio and Daisy all her own; she

has got rid of Annie. Oh, I know she did it kindly, but all the same

Annie will be gone! She wants to know for certain about Marian. There

remain Frances and me."

"You! Oh, you belong to me."

"I do, Piers; and I therefore have your honour in my keeping, and so I

will not be a pawn in Miss Vandeleur's game. I have held a little aloof

from the first, because I belong to you."

"You're a darling! But, Honora, mind you, she is immensely rich. She

could provide for you all, and never feel it. I feel I ought to tell

you to consider, for rich I shall not be for years—rich as she is rich,

I shall never be."

"Should you like me to pay the price she may demand, Piers? Should you

like me even to bow down before her, like Vio and Daisy, who think her

the best and loveliest of women, and from whose minds she has blotted

out what Marian and Annie and I did for them? And honestly, Piers, tell

me true. Would you rather take me as I am, or with my hands full of

gold given me in return for years of—"

"Years! I won't wait years. Years of what, Honora?"

"Answer my question, dear. Which would you rather take—me as I am, or

what she might make of me?"

"You as you are, Honora, for I don't think you can be improved. As to

riches, if God spares me my health, I believe my career is no longer a

matter of doubt; and I would fifty times rather take you as you are in

that matter too, than owe wealth to any one save God and my own right

hand."

Honora was a rather shy, undemonstrative girl in her ordinary manner to

her lover, but when he ceased to speak, she bent towards him and kissed

him.

"You have spoken as I knew you would. Oh, Piers, what a happy woman I

am!"

They had reached the little creek where the girls always bathed, and

were sitting side by side in a sheltered nook.

"If you are ever less than happy, dear, I only pray that it may not be

my fault."

"I think it will not be your fault. We can't expect to go through life

without some trials, but so long as we can trust one another, we can

face them. Poor Annie! I wish I felt more confidence in 'her' future.

Miss Vandeleur has taken upon herself to play Providence; and only

fancy, she told Annie that she did it for a reason of her own. I said,

'I could have told you that,' and Annie was really vexed. She asked

what reason she could have except kindness. I said I could not tell

her."

"Can you tell me, O reader of hearts?"

"No," she said, laughing; "you would make fun of me. Well, we have lost

Annie, and I will speak a prophecy for your benefit. In no long time,

Marian and I will be here alone, as when you came."

"Oh, you know, this won't do. Time for me to escape. I didn't bargain

for a prophetess."

"Piers, one thing which I like in you is your good sense. Take care."

"Honora, one thing which I like in you is your very great impertinence."

"So glad, for I do not fear a failure in the supply." She rose as she

spoke. "That young Wilkinson is to be here presently; we had better go

home."

"But, look here. Will you speak to Marian about Stanhope? As he is

here, she might as well see him. I promised to arrange with you if

possible."

"I will speak to her, for I will not have her urged if she objects.

She is far too weak to be worried. Here comes Daisy. Well, little one,

where are you going?"

"I was looking for you. Mr. Wilkinson has come. I thought he was Miss

Vandeleur's visitor."

"So he is."

"Well, he and Annie are in the parlour, and Marian's on the terrace and

wants you."

"Well," said Piers, "I expect I should be in the way, so I'm off for a

walk. I will come back in time for tea."

The two sisters opened the gate, and went to join Marian and Violet.

"Well, Marian, what news have you?"

"None, as yet. A fine, handsome young man—pleasant-looking."

After a long stare and some meditation, Daisy presently said gleefully—

"I do believe he is Annie's lover."

"Nonsense! He is too young," cried Violet. "Is he, Marian?"

"I forget his exact age."

"But I mean, what brings him here?"

"No one can tell what Annie may say," remarked Honora, "so we ought to

wait patiently."

But when Annie and Ernest Wilkinson came out after a time, there was

little doubt about the matter. Annie looked tearfully happy, and the

tall, well-drilled young man was beaming with triumph.

"I think," said Honora, "that you and I may shake hands, as those two

are so busy with each other. Besides, we remember each other, don't we?"

"Wish me joy," he said boyishly. "She says she will. I asked her five

times before, and she would not."

"Better late than never," said Honora, laughing. "And I do wish you

joy, and think you very fortunate."

It presently became known that Ernest must sail with his new employer

on the first of October, which left but a fortnight or so for

preparation. Miss Vandeleur simplified matters by taking Annie to

Plymouth and providing her with a most complete outfit. The banns were

duly published in the little weather-beaten church.

Mr. Wilkinson came to perform the ceremony, the Rector of S. Canice

gave the bride away, and every one said—all the village and all the

denizens of Heyward's College being there—that the four bridesmaids,

in their simple white dresses and blue ribbons, were well worth going

further to see. And Annie and her husband were a good-looking couple,

people thought.

Before they left the castle, Miss Vandeleur took the bride aside and

gave her a sealed envelope.

"This is my wedding present, Annie. Keep it carefully. I have settled

one hundred a year upon you, payable only to yourself, and only for

your life. I felt that I ought to make certain that you cannot come to

want."

"You need not have done this, but it is very kind of you. Ernest and I

will never forget your great kindness to us, Miss Vandeleur, though I

cannot say it as I feel it."

"I hope you will be very happy," said Miss Vandeleur. "Good-bye, my

dear."

When left alone, Miss Vandeleur looked thoughtful for a time. Then she

said aloud—

"But Annie was impossible—a mere household drudge, and no advantage to

the others with this long lad on her hands. Violet I do not like; Daisy

is a dear little goose. My choice lies between Honora and Frances. Poor

Marian, she is one of the best and sweetest of women, but even if she

were strong and well, she has so little education. No, Honora is the

flower of the flock, and worthy of the position I can give her. With

her, I shall have a home."

During the fortnight of fuss and preparation, Honora had asked Marian

to see Mr. Stanhope, telling her what Piers said of him. Marian was

not very willing, but as Miss Vandeleur had brought him there on her

account, she consented at last.

"I will answer all his questions, but I will not let him touch me. He

would only hurt me, and do me no good. But he will not want more than

to talk to me."

She proved very nearly right. Mr. Stanhope, gentle and tactful as most

clever doctors are, talked to her for a while, and finally took out a

stethoscope.

"This will not hurt you," he said, with a very kindly smile. "You need

not even move. That will do."

"You don't ask about my back," she said, with the smile that was like a

faint reflection of Honora's.

"After so long a time, I do not see the use of annoying you. Elliott is

a good man."

"And did nothing, because there was nothing to be done," she answered.

"Run, Honora, and bring me those letters from Dr. Elliott. Here is the

key of my desk."

Honora went to the sitting-room, leaving the door between the two rooms

open.

Marian laid her thin hand on the great surgeon's arm.

"I know the truth," she said. "Tell me, quick—will it be much longer?

Answer, please; I am not afraid."

He looked into the gentle, steady eyes, and obeyed her.

"Not long, my child, and probably painless."

"Then I may keep Honourbright," she said gladly. "I couldn't expect

Piers to—"

Here Honora came back. She had heard and understood, but she gave no

sign of having done so.

"Piers," Marian said to him that evening, "will you write to some

stationers in London and get them to send you one of those printed

forms for making a will which I see advertised? I want to make mine,

and you and Dr. Musgrave will witness it for me. You will manage for

me, won't you? I do not want any one else to know."

"Anything that you want, Marian, you've only to tell me."

And he managed so well that, before his holiday was over, the will was

written and signed and placed in Marian's desk.

On the morning of the last day of his stay, Miss Vandeleur sent for

Piers Egerton, and had a long conversation with him. He was to go by

the last train. And though it was a blusterous night, Honora declared

that she must go to the station with him, or he would lose his way, he

was so heedless.

Frances laughed at her, but quite pleasantly. Frances had grown

wonderfully pleasant of late.

"Piers, are you not going to tell me what Miss Vandeleur wanted to say

to you?" Honora said as they went along the rough road.

"First, you must clear up the poignant doubts of you, madam, which have

been implanted in my confiding heart."

"Dear me! Who implanted them?"

"Dr. Musgrave."

"Nice old donkey! What are these doubts, pray?"

"I asked you once if you had ever—well, I haven't time to put it

nicely—been made love to by any one but myself, and you said, 'No,

never.' And during my stay at his house, poor Musgrave told me that

he did not come back here altogether for the sake of his garden, but

because he found he must try again to win you.

"'For,' said he, 'though she refused me once, she might have listened

to me in time.'

"And no sooner had he arrived than he found that you were no longer an

unappropriated blessing."

"He dreams, this excellent fat man. He never put me in a position to

refuse him. He was making fun of you, my poor boy. His jokes are rather

inscrutable."

"It was no joke to him. It was—we shall be late for the train—it was

the day he bade you good-bye, and you opened the door for him, and he

asked you 'if he had a chance,' and you said he had time to catch the

train, which was, my dear girl, a very vague way of replying to an

offer of marriage."

"I do not remember it in the least. I suppose if he said that, I

thought he meant a chance of the train. I must tell Marian. How she

will laugh!"

"You hard-hearted little wretch! Laugh! If you had only heard poor

Musgrave's sigh."

"Like a furnace!" said she, solemnly. "Confess, Piers—you invented all

this?"

"No, truly, but I think it was a shame to tell you. However, he said he

wished you to know. Hullo! Here's that walking conglomeration looking

for me. Good-bye, my darling—good-bye."

"How about the doubt?" she called after him.

"Better go home and repent."

She went home, but she did not repent. On the contrary, when it struck

her that Piers had never answered her about Miss Vandeleur, she came to

a halt, and said—

"Just talked all that nonsense to put me off. I detest Piers!"—in a

tone which was as good as a caress.

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