Gerald's Jealousy
THE short December day was drawing to a close as the fast train from
the west of England slowed into Paddington Station, and Mr. Bailey
let down one of the windows of the compartment in which he and Angel
were seated, and peered into the gloom without.
"Now for bricks and mortar once more!" he exclaimed. "What a dense
fog to be sure! It looks as though one could cut it with a knife!
I scarcely fancy your father will be here to meet us on a night like
this."
But he was wrong in his surmise, for the moment after the train had
stopped, and he had alighted himself, and lifted Angel on to the
platform by his side, she was in her father's arms, whispering how
very glad she was to see him again.
"I did not expect to see you," Mr. Bailey said, as he shook his
nephew by the hand, "but I am very pleased you have come. I hardly
know my way about in a fog, so you must act as pilot."
Mr. Willis agreed, and a few minutes later found them seated in a
cab, being driven slowly through the streets, for the fog was too
thick to admit of faster progress.
"Are you sure our luggage is all right, father?" Angel asked
anxiously. "Is the hamper there too?"
"Yes, your belongings are safe in front with the driver. May I
inquire what the hamper contains?"
"Oh, it is a regular country hamper," Mr. Bailey replied, smiling,
"and it contains—"
"Butter, and cream, and fowls," Angel broke in eagerly, "and other
nice things to eat. The hamper is a present from Uncle Edward,
father. He says one always ought to take back a hamper from the
country."
"Uncle Edward is very kind," Mr. Willis remarked, with gratitude
in his voice. "I declare, Angel, in spite of your journey, you are
looking much better and brighter than I ever saw you look before,"
he continued; "the light is dim, and I may be deceived, but surely
those are roses in your cheeks?"
"Then they must be winter ones," Mr. Bailey said, laughing, "but they
are none the less becoming on that account. I am glad you think she
looks well, John. We have had a happy time together—have we not?"
he asked, turning to Angel.
"Very happy." she answered readily. "Oh, father, I think the country
is beautiful! The sky is so clear, and the sun shines so brightly,
and Wreyford is a simply lovely place!"
Her father smiled at her enthusiasm, and regarded her tenderly with
affectionate eyes. He had missed his little daughter during the past
week—he had not anticipated he would miss her so much—and he was
delighted to see her bright and happy, He had felt very dull of an
evening during her absence, for since her mother's death he had
fallen into the habit of talking to her of his plans for the future;
if Angel lacked the artistic temperament, she Was a most sympathetic
listener, and she thoroughly believed in her father and his work.
"How is Gerald?" she questioned presently.
"He is very well. He wanted to come with me to Paddington, but I bade
him remain at home and prepare his lessons for to-morrow, so that he
might have a free evening with us to-night. I think he has missed
your help in his lessons."
She laughed happily, for it was so nice to know she had been missed.
Since her mother's death she had never felt so free from care as she
did now; for the time she had forgotten all the little worries and
troubles of her home life.
The cab proceeded very slowly, sometimes stopping altogether for
several minutes, so that it was more than an hour after they had
started from Paddington before they reached their destination. Angel
was the first to enter the house, and rushing upstairs ran into the
arms of her brother, who had heard the cab draw up at the door, and
was coming down to meet her. The two children hugged and kissed each
other; then, being joined by their father and uncle, they all went up
to the sitting-room, where a substantial high tea awaited them.
It made Angel's heart glow with pleasure to see how glad every one
was that she had come home. Mrs. Steer brought hot water to her
bedroom, and stood by whilst the little girl removed the traces
of her journey, and explained how greatly she had been missed.
"Your pa's been like a hen that's lost its one chick, Miss Angel,"
the landlady said; "I'll be bound to say this last week has been a
long one for him. I think he missed you evenings most of all. Master
Gerald, for all he's so clever, will never be the same to your pa
as you are, my dear. The boy has an aggravating way with him
sometimes, and he's not as obedient as he might be. One night he and
your pa had words about his lessons. It would never have happened
if you'd been here."
"What happened?" Angel asked, a slight shadow of anxiety creeping
over her face.
"Well, as far as I could make out, Master Gerald said he'd learnt his
lessons, and your pa said he didn't believe he had, because he hadn't
been long about them, and Master Gerald declared he knew them
perfectly. Then your pa took up his books and questioned him."
"And couldn't Gerald answer the questions?"
"No, miss, he couldn't. Your pa was very angry, and Master Gerald
turned sulky, but he had to learn the lessons properly. After that he
went to bed without any supper."
Angel was troubled. She knew her brother must have annoyed her father
greatly if the latter had been very angry, for he was usually most
even-tempered, and never blamed without serious cause. If she had
been at home there would have been no opportunity for disagreement,
for she always went over her brother's lessons with him again and
again till he knew them perfectly. It never occurred to her to
question the wisdom of thus making Gerald's work easy for him.
Steer was a well-intentioned woman; and she had informed Angel of the
unpleasantness between her father and brother in order to point out
to the little girl her own importance in the family; but she
regretted having mentioned the matter when she saw the effect of her
incautious words.
"Your pa and Master Gerald were good friends enough next day, so
there's nothing to worry about," she proceeded consolingly; "and I
dare say a few stern words did Master Gerald no harm. A fine treat
you've had, Miss Angel, to be sure! I'm glad you had good weather
whilst you were away."
"The weather was perfect, and not the least too cold," Angel
responded. "Wreyford is a charming place. Uncle Edward has bought a
house there—the very same house he lived in when he was a boy—and he
means to go there to live by-and-by."
"He'll want you to live with him, miss."
The little girl laughed and shook her head; she did not think
Mrs. Steer's surmise at all likely.
It was very pleasant to be at home again, even though that home
comprised only a few rooms in a second rate lodging-house. It was
sweet to think how she had been missed, and that she was
of importance somewhere in the world. After tea she sat on a low
stool by her father's side, whilst Mr. Bailey explained how he had
found Haresdown House to be sold or let, and had purchased it for his
future home.
"I shall remain with you till after Christmas if you'll keep me,"
he said to his nephew, "but with the new year I mean to settle
at Wreyford. I dare say I shall be a bit lonely at first, but I don't
feel I could live altogether in London. I could never be actually
at home in a great city."
Mr. Willis nodded understandingly. Mr. Bailey's good-humoured, ruddy
countenance was aglow with intense satisfaction; he was simply
delighted at the prospect of living once more in his native town.
"Did you find Wreyford much altered?" Mr. Willis inquired.
"No, not much," was the reply. "The houses were smaller and the
principal street narrower than I had pictured it; but still the view
from the churchyard on Haresdown Hill is finer, to my mind, than any
I ever saw."
"It is grand!" Angel cried. "Oh, father, you would like to see it!"
"You must see it one of these days, John," Mr. Bailey said
impressively. "I'm making my home at Haresdown House. You must
understand my doors will be always open to you and yours. Come when
you will, and remain as long as you like. Why should you not all
spend Easter with me next year?"
"It is very good of you to suggest it, Uncle," Mr. Willis responded,
"and I am deeply sensible of your kindness. But I hope to be very
busy about that time," he added; "I shall be putting the finishing
touches to my picture. Easter falls early next year."
"Well, then, you must come when it suits you," Mr. Bailey said
hospitably. "There is plenty of room in Haresdown House; is there
not, Angel?"
"Yes," she nodded. "It has gardens all around it, and an orchard
leading from the kitchen garden. It is a thatched house built on the
slope of the hill; the porch at the front door is covered with
honeysuckle and roses. Of course there were no flowers, but I noticed
the plants, and thought how beautiful they must be in the summer."
"What a grand time you must have had, Angel," Gerald remarked, with a
touch of envy in his tone.
"And I hope you will have a grand time at Wreyford too one of these
days," Mr. Bailey told the boy cordially; "perhaps in your Easter
holidays, eh? Your sister and I met some people you would like to
know—Mickle they are called. The father is a lawyer, and there are
several children. When you come to visit me you will find congenial
companions."
Gerald's face lit up with a gratified smile, and he and Angel
exchanged pleased glances.
Now that the first excitement of coming home had passed, Angel was
beginning to feel weary; she leaned her head against her father's
knee whilst a sensation of perfect happiness and contentment crept
over her. The fire made her drowsy, and she was half asleep when her
father's voice, with a distinct note of displeasure in it, aroused
her thoroughly.
"Gerald, what are you doing?" he asked.
She raised her head quickly, and glanced at her brother, who had gone
to the table and emptied the contents of his schoolbag upon it.
"I am only going to learn my lessons for to-morrow, father," the boy
answered promptly, but nevertheless appearing slightly uneasy.
"I thought I told you to learn them whilst I went to Paddington?"
Mr. Willis said sharply.
"So you did, father, but I brought back such a jolly book from the
school library, and—and—"
"And you read it instead of carrying out my instructions," Mr. Willis
interposed, as Gerald hesitated to finish his sentence. "You had
no right to disobey me; if you do so on another occasion I shall
certainly punish you. You had better do your work now as quickly
as you can, and mind you do it thoroughly."
Angel was surprised to hear her father speak so sternly. The fact
was, during the week his little daughter had been absent from home,
Mr. Willis had seen more of Gerald than he usually did, and had
become aware of certain flaws in his character of which he had been
ignorant before. Then, too, he had discovered how dependent the boy
was upon his sister, and how he relied upon her assistance in his
lessons; besides which, he had been struck by Gerald's selfishness in
begrudging Angel the pleasure of her trip to Wreyford. It had been
with both grief and surprise that Mr. Willis had discovered his son's
true feelings upon the matter.
Gerald opened his books, looking somewhat abashed, whilst Angel made
a movement to rise and go to him; but her father placed his hands
firmly though gently on her shoulders, and bade her remain where she
was.
"Oh, father, may I not help Gerald with his lessons?" she asked in
pleading tones.
"Yes, Angel, do come and help me with my French translation!" Gerald
cried eagerly. "You might look out the words I don't know in the
dictionary for me."
"I will, if father will let me," Angel replied, glancing coaxingly
up into her father's face. "I expect Gerald did not learn his lessons
this afternoon because he thought I would help him to-night," she
added shrewdly; "do let me?"
That was the actual fact, but Gerald thought it wiser not to
acknowledge it.
Mr. Willis did not remove his hands from his little daughter's
shoulders; and when he spoke his words were a surprise to both
children.
"Gerald must do his lessons by himself," he said quietly. "I shall
not allow you to help him to-night, Angel, for he has most
deliberately disobeyed me; besides which, it is selfish of him
to want your assistance when you are tired with your journey."
"I am not very tired," the little girl declared, "only just a little!
I can help Gerald quite well."
"But I would rather you did not, my dear."
Angel said no more, but she was distressed for her brother's sake.
Gerald sulkily turned his attention to his work, a scowl upon his
brow; when he had finished his lessons he put away his books, said
good-night in an injured tone, and marched off to bed.
"Do not trouble about Gerald," Mr. Willis said, as Angel rose to
follow her brother; "you do too much for him, and it is not right you
should. He must learn to be more self-reliant. Are you going to bed
too? Well, I know you are very tired, so good-night, my darling.
Pleasant dreams!"
She kissed him lovingly, then turned to Mr. Bailey and kissed him
too, lingering to tell him again what a happy time he had given her,
and how grateful she was for all his kindness.
Gerald was already in bed when his sister peeped into his room. She
went to his side, and bent over him to kiss him, but he did not
return her caress, nor did he respond to her "good-night."
"I was sorry father would not let me help you with your lessons,"
she told him.
"You weren't!" he rudely retorted. "You didn't want to help me!
You might have if you had liked."
"Oh, Gerald, you know better than that! And you know you were very
wrong to disobey father. You ought to have done your work before."
"I am not going to be preached to by you, Angel! You think too much
of yourself just because Uncle Edward's taken a fancy to you. It's
not fair everyone should make so much more of you than me. Father's
done nothing but talk of you all the time you've been away. And every
time I've seen Mrs. Steer she's been just as bad. You've been
enjoying yourself whilst I've had to go to school and work. You might
have helped me to-night."
"But you know—you know father would not let me!" she cried tearfully.
"Father thinks more of you than of me," he declared; "yes, he does,
he does, I say."
The little girl said no more. She turned away from her brother's
bedside, and hastily left the room, amazed at the knowledge that
Gerald was jealous of her. How unkind and unjust of him! Her pillow
was bedewed with bitter tears that night; but by-and-by she assured
herself that Gerald did not mean all he had said; he would be ashamed
of himself the next day. So she asked God to forgive him for his
jealous temper, and fell asleep with his name upon her lips.
Gerald had gone to bed without a prayer, as he had often done
of late; unfortunately he did not realize how much he had been
to blame that day, so he experienced no desire for God's forgiveness,
no wish for communion with his Father in Heaven.