smiled at Clodagh's sudden, almost childish outburst of
confidence--afterwards Clodagh felt at a loss to explain it to herself,
for as a rule she was by no means a chatterbox--and remarked, though
with a touch of deferential apology in her tone:
"Our Cousin Felicity is the genius of travelling in person. If she would
teach you some of her experience, Miss Clodagh, you would indeed be
fortunate. We always do say, you know, dear cousin, that you manage as
if by magic."
The old lady smiled. She did not seem ill-pleased.
"Yes," said Clodagh, glancing almost with reverence at the exquisite
yellowish lace, of cobweb-like texture, draping its owner's skirt, "to
see all these lovely treasures of attire, one wonders how it can be so
quickly arranged and re-arranged--and packed! For, as far as I remember,
Madam, you carried but little with you."
Cousin Felicity smiled again.
"You are right," she said. "I detest encumbrances. I travel with the
smallest amount of luggage possible. Not that this lace would add to
it----" and she passed her jewelled fingers over it fondly. "All I am
wearing could go through a wedding ring. It belonged to my--ah, well, we
need not say how far back among my ancestors it dates from."
"It was made in fairyland, I believe," murmured Clodagh, and then there
stole across her memory some of the old tales and sayings she had heard
in her nursery--how that the "good folk," the "little people," reckon
not age and time as we do--that five centuries is in fairyland but as
five years, if that, to us. And the story of little Bridget, whose human
life ebbed out "between the dawn and morrow," poor little Bridget!
recurred to her with a slight shiver. It must have shown in her eyes as
she raised them again to her new friend's strange face. But what she
read there reassured her in some mysterious way, and then, as if a door
or window had suddenly opened in her mind, there flashed into her
remembrance all that the landlady of the old inn had told her that very
morning about the mysterious and fitful lady in the neighbourhood.
"It is she herself," thought Clodagh. "How extraordinary that I did not
guess it before! But, fairy or no fairy, she wishes me nothing but
good," and a sweet, grateful smile lighted up the young girl's face,
chasing away the first vague misgivings.
"Yes," came in a very soft whisper to her ears, "yes, my dear, you know
something about me, and before we part we must have some talk together,"
but to this there was no time for her to reply, as at that moment dinner
was announced and the elder Mr. Marriston came forward to offer his arm
to the venerable guest.
Somehow, though she found herself for the first time in her life among
strangers, Clodagh did not feel shy or ill at ease. She had an
underlying consciousness that she was kindly regarded, for her own sake
as well as to please her cousin. Paulina, who by this time had regained
her self-possession, was gentler than her wont, and did not speak much.
Indeed, though all passed pleasantly there was an indefinite feeling of
formality and ceremony not usual in the cheerful and friendly family
group.
"It is not half as lively and amusing with that old----" "cat," Paulina
was probably going to say but for a "hush" from Clodagh, for it was to
her young cousin she was whispering on their way to the drawing-room.
"Well--with _her_ here," she continued. "They are all so desperately in
awe of her, I can't understand it."
"But do be careful," urged Clodagh. "She may overhear, and you really
should be polite and respectful. As you say yourself, age alone demands
it."
"I'm not going to be rude," Paulina replied, and she meant what she
said, though in her heart she had not forgiven the reproof she had
received, especially as she knew she had deserved it. But just as they
were entering the long parlour, Clodagh stopped her.
"Cousin," she said, "I cannot rest with the thought of all our
things--yours especially--in such confusion upstairs. Will you allow me
to go to our rooms now and arrange them, partly at least? I am sure Mrs.
Marriston and her daughters will excuse me, if you explain to them."
Paulina hesitated. She had a horror of seeming to treat her young
relation as an inferior, and yet she saw that it would really be kinder
to agree. Just then Thomasine came up to them, and on Paulina's putting
the question to her she took Clodagh's part.
"Yes," she said, "I think it would be far better than for this child to
stay down till late, and then probably not get to bed for ever so
long." For the Marristons fully understood the position. So Clodagh,
much relieved, bade Thomasine a cheerful good-night and ran off.
She worked hard--unpacking, separating, to some extent packing again,
for the weather was very hot and she knew that certain clothes could not
possibly be required during the few days of their stay at the Priory.
She was quick and intelligent and sensible, still she was very young and
her task was not an easy one, and but for her extreme anxiety to be of
real use to her cousin, she would almost have despaired of managing it.
"But it would never do for me to lose heart at the first start," she
said to herself, "and of course, unless I prove fit for the post,
Paulina could not afford to keep me with her, as Lady Roseley explained.
For she is not _very_ rich, and it is such a blessing to be with her
instead of with strangers who knew nothing about me except that I was
poor and homeless."
So she cheered up and worked on bravely. The evenings were long, for it
was barely past midsummer, and the dinner had been early, so she had
time enough to arrange her cousin's belongings, though she had scarcely
touched her own, when Paulina made her appearance yawning and wishing
herself in bed.
"Good gracious, child!" she exclaimed, as she caught sight of Clodagh,
"are you at it still? Why, I expected to find you undressed at least, if
not in bed. But I must say you seem to have a head on your shoulders. My
things look most methodically arranged. And how about your own?"
"Oh," said Clodagh, much pleased, in spite of feeling very sleepy and
tired, "I shall soon get them done. I will not make any noise if you go
to bed now, but I should like to feel things were tidy before----"
But Paulina interrupted her.
"Nonsense," she said. "I insist on your going to bed yourself. Just get
out what is absolutely necessary. You can finish in the morning, and
remember," she went on, for she was standing with the door open, and the
corridor was still encumbered, "remember to ask the servants to pile up
or carry away some of these boxes. One can scarcely get in and out of
the rooms. I wish your luggage were a little more concentrated. You have
such a number of small cases and bags."
"Yes," Clodagh agreed. "You see I have never travelled any distance till
now," and she eyed her goods and chattels somewhat disconsolately.
"We must arrange about it," said Paulina vaguely. "But now, get to bed
quickly," and after all, Clodagh felt that she really was getting too
sleepy to do more than was unavoidable, and in a short time both girls
were fast asleep, Clodagh's last waking thought being a resolve to get
up very early indeed to complete her arrangements.
"I wish I could have got it all done to-night, but anyway the confusion
outside could not be cleared till to-morrow."
She was tired and she slept soundly, still not quite dreamlessly. One
very queer experience she had, and even when she was wide-awake, and
daylight streaming in, she could not make up her mind if it had been
dream or reality.
This was it, "and," she said to herself, "I am almost certain I was
awake."
It was midsummer weather, as I said, so the window was wide open, and
suddenly through the silence Clodagh heard a familiar sound. It was that
of bees humming. It grew nearer and nearer, and opening her eyes--or
dreaming that she did so--she looked up. The room was flooded with
moonlight, and in it she perceived the source of the sound. Two large
bees were buzzing about, very busy apparently, but as there were no
flowers on the table or mantelpiece, Clodagh wondered sleepily what
could have attracted them.
"I hope they won't sting me," she thought, for the humming grew nearer,
and then, strange to say, out of it gradually soft-whispering words
shaped themselves.
"Don't wake her, whatever you do," said one bee. "She is fast asleep and
we must obey orders."
"But we can't help humming," murmured the other.
"Well, hum gently. It will soothe her, and let us set to work, for there
is plenty to do before daylight."
That was all she heard, and soothe her the sound must have done, for she
knew nothing more till she really and unmistakably awoke, to see the
sunshine--the lovely, clear early summer morning sunshine--pouring in,
to hear the dear birds welcoming another happy beautiful day.
Clodagh started up. She had never felt fresher or brighter; all last
night's tiredness had gone. She was used to early rising, and felt that
to stay lazily in bed was impossible.
"It would be delicious out-of-doors," she thought, "but I _must_ finish
the tidying and sorting, if possible before Paulina awakes," and she
sprang out of bed.
But--she rubbed her eyes--was she dreaming? The cupboards, of which
there were two in the old-fashioned room, the roomy chest of drawers,
all stood open, as if to exhibit their contents and demand approval, and
in them were arranged with the perfection of neatness and judiciousness
all her possessions, last night in disorder and barely unpacked. And on
a chair lay her garments for the day, not only those she had herself
placed there, but a spotless cool white gown--much cooler than the black
one she had travelled with--the very one she had been hoping to get out
and don that morning.
"Have I done it all in my sleep?" she asked, and then some undefined
feeling made her open the door and peep out into the passage. Wonder of
wonders! All the confusion had disappeared. There stood there, in
dignified importance, two roomy, substantial trunks only, one of which
she recognised as her cousin's principal one, with her initials in small
brass nails on the lid, the other, similar in make and appearance, with
the first letters of her own two names marked in the same way. The very
sort of thing she had begun to long for since seeing Paulina's.
She lifted the lid--a series of trays was disclosed, and examining
further, she perceived at the bottom, most beautifully folded, all her
own thicker clothing, gowns and woollens quite unsuitable for present
wear, and as she went on in breathless excitement to peer into her
cousin's, there was the same arrangement. The very garments she had
herself put aside for the present, the evening before, lay there
undisturbed, or rather, she suspected, far more exquisitely folded than
she had left them. And all the rest, the bandboxes and carpet-bags and
unbusiness-like odds and ends she had brought over the sea, had
disappeared, as if by magic.
"And magic it is," she said to herself, for, as she stood there
listening, a clock in the distance struck five, not another sound or
rustle was to be heard. Not a soul was as yet astir in the old house.
Clodagh danced back into her room.
"The fairies are afield," she sang to herself softly. Never had she felt
so gay and light-hearted. "I shall dress and run out into the garden,"
she thought. "There is nothing to keep me indoors. Everything is
safe"--for the heavy despatch-box she knew to be in Paulina's keeping.
"What will the servants think when they see it?"
What they did think was that each thought the others had cleared away
the pile of the young ladies' luggage, leaving only what was required.
Or at least, as no questions were asked, no remarks made, they probably
thought so, if they thought about it at all! Perhaps their curiosity was
put to sleep by some uncanny though not maleficent influence. Who can
say?
And in a very short time Clodagh was ready, and hat in hand, looking
like the very spirit of the morning in person, she ran downstairs to
find the old hall-porter sleepily unbarring the great door, though,
sleepy as he was, he could not restrain a smile of admiration and a
respectful "You be early about, Miss," to which she laughingly replied,
"Who could help it, once they were awake, on such a morning?"
Yet another surprise awaited her, as you shall hear.
The Priory grounds were fairly extensive and delightfully quaint. Great
laurel hedges, alternating with curiously high-clipped yews, and some
magnificent elms added to the impression of space, as well as to that
sort of pleasant "mystery" without which no garden is thoroughly
fascinating.
"What a lovely place to explore!" said Clodagh to herself, as she turned
down one long shady path, streaked here and there with the early
sun-rays filtering through the foliage. Then a sound reached her ears,
which recalled her experience of the night before. It was the humming of
bees. She stood still for a moment to listen, feeling as if she were on
the confines of some enchanted region. Then slowly, treading very
softly, she went on. Yes--in a minute or two she saw at the end of the
path a huge beautiful beehive, its inhabitants flying in and out,
buzzing away, like the busy creatures they are. And in front of it stood
a quaint little figure, whom Clodagh this time had no difficulty in at
once recognising as the mysterious "Cousin Felicity" again.
Her laces and diamonds of the evening before seemed a dream, though her
dress was dainty enough, much finer in quality than the very homely
attire in which Clodagh had first seen her. It was a gown of flowered
chintz, of the delicate colouring and excellent material that one now
and again finds treasured among family relics--such as "my
great-grandmother's" or even "great-great-grandmother's dresses." And
the skirt was drawn through the pocket-holes in the orthodox
old-fashioned way, showing the pink cotton petticoat and the neat little
high-heeled shoes. The whole figure, as she stood with her back to the
new-comer, was so trim and slim and youthful, that it gave almost a
shock to Clodagh when the little lady turned suddenly and she caught
sight of the tiny, withered, white face, surmounted by a kind of mob
cap, from beneath which escaped a few soft grey curls. Yet it was
evident that Cousin Felicity was in very good health and spirits, for
she smiled beamingly as she accosted the young girl.
"The top of the morning to you, my dear," she said. "That's your
national greeting, is it not? I knew you were not a lie-abed. Well, and
how wags the world with you? I have been visiting my friends here, you
see. We understand each other, these clever little creatures and I," and
she fixed her bright eyes on Clodagh.
For a moment or two Clodagh stood silent. Then a smile broke over her
face.
"Madam, lady, what shall I call you?" she exclaimed. "I must say it. I
know the truth. You _are_ a fairy. It is you I have to thank for what
has been done to help me in the night!"
"Call me what you please, my dear, when we are alone," said the old
lady, "but keep what you know, or suspect--rather more than the actual
fact, by the bye," she added--"keep it to yourself. I know you are
discreet, otherwise I could not be of service to you as I intend to be.
Now tell me, child, what are your troubles or anxieties, for some I know
you have----"
"I don't feel as if I had any at all this morning," Clodagh interrupted
laughingly.
"Ah, well--so much the better, it shows a healthy nature," was the
reply. "But, tell me, is that very autocratic young woman, your cousin,
good to you? Are you happy to be with her?"
"Yes, yes, truly I am," Clodagh replied eagerly. "That is to say, I feel
sure I am going to be so. You see we only met again yesterday, after not
having seen each other for several years, not since I have been
grown-up. But I must explain. Paulina is very kind. I am sorry she was
rude to you yesterday. She was sorry herself afterwards, but she is only
quick-tempered and spoilt. She has a kind heart. When my dear
grandmother died I should have been homeless, forced to earn my living
with strangers, but for her," and by this time Clodagh's eyes were
filled with tears.
Cousin Felicity nodded her head slowly, and in a moment or two she spoke
again.
"Did you love your Irish home very dearly?" she asked.
"Did I? _Do_ I, rather," the girl replied. "Oh, dear lady, I adore it!
But it is mine no longer. It belongs to strangers, it is best for me not
to think of it; though I have known all my life that I should have to
leave it when Granny left me, I don't think I realised it. That is why I
am glad to travel. It is interesting, and takes my thoughts off, to see
new places and people. I am glad that Paulina travels so much, if
only----" and here she gave a deep sigh.
"Ah, ha," cried the little old lady, but though slightly mocking, her
tone was not the least unkindly, "now we are getting to your troubles.
What is that deep sigh about?"
"It's my fear that I can't manage things properly for Paulina," said
Clodagh, "and if so, I must leave her. She is not _very_ rich. She can't
afford to buy me pretty gowns and things, as she means to do, if I
cannot save her having a maid. She cannot take two about with her. Oh,
it's the luggage! Do you know, yesterday I thought I had lost her
jewellery--I'll never forget my horror!"
"Would you like to know how _I_ travel? Shall I show you?" said her new
friend.
Clodagh looked at her wonderingly.
"Indeed I would," she said. "But then," she went on, "though I am afraid
you do not like me to say it, I _know_ you are a----"
"S-sh. Never mind about that. Come with me," was the reply.
It was still very early. No one was about. Cousin Felicity took the
girl's hand and turned to re-enter the house by a different way from
that by which Clodagh had come. But before doing so, she stopped a
moment and waved her tiny hand as if in adieu to the beehive.
"Thanks many," her companion heard her murmur. "You did your work well
last night," and to Clodagh she went on, with a twinkle in her bright
eyes, "Were you pleased with what you found this morning--the new trunk
and all?"
"Pleased!" exclaimed the girl rapturously, "I couldn't believe my eyes.
Not that I mind work," she went on, "I think I can soon learn to pack
and unpack cleverly. It is the responsibility of all the things, the
terror of losing them, that distresses me."
"Yes, yes," said her friend, "I understand. I do not mean to do all your
work for you. It is the industrious and active, not the idle and lazy,
that"--and here she gave her funny twinkling smile again--"that _they_
help, as all the stories you have heard over the sea always tell. You
shall see what I can do, and what you must do yourself."
By this time they had reached a side entrance to the house. The door
stood open; a small staircase faced them, up which with wonderful
quickness, considering her great age, Cousin Felicity sprang, followed
by Clodagh, and crossing a landing, opened the door of a room, inviting
the girl to enter with her.
It was a pleasant room; the first impression it made on Clodagh was of
whiteness--and exquisite neatness. It matched the little old lady to
perfection.
"This is where I always am, when I visit these kind people," she said.
"No one ever has this room but myself. And," she went on in a low voice
as if speaking to herself, "who, if I tried to tell it, would believe
for how many generations it has been appropriated to me?"
Clodagh felt a thrill of awe as she caught the mysterious words. But in
another moment Cousin Felicity had turned to her briskly, pointing to a
neat, good-sized trunk standing in front of the fireplace.
"That is all _my_ luggage," she announced. "It holds more than Paulina's
fine lady's maid would have got into half-a-dozen like it, because _I_
know how to pack. But--look at it well."
Clodagh stared at it obediently.
"Shut your eyes." She did so. Then it seemed to her that she heard a
murmur of words.
"Open." Clodagh again obeyed. And this time, stare she did, for--the box
was no longer there, it had vanished from view!
She was too astonished to speak.
"Hold out your hand," was the next command.
Cousin Felicity laid something on the outstretched palm. Clodagh gazed
at it in amazement and admiration. It was a miniature trunk, evidently
of the finest make. Never had she seen such a perfect toy of its kind,
and it was an exact facsimile of her strange old friend's substantial
box, which a minute before had been standing in front of her in the most
matter-of-fact way. It was small--not above a couple of inches in
length, and half as much in width and depth, but curiously heavy. It
might almost have been a small block of lead, fashioned to represent a
Liliputian portmanteau, and still Clodagh stood there staring at it,
without speaking.
"That is how _I_ travel," said the mysterious little lady at last. "It
contains all my belongings, just as I told you the other--or rather
itself in its other proportions--does. See, I slip it in here," and she
held out the black hand-bag, or reticule, which the girl had noticed in
the coach, and taking the little box from Clodagh she did as she said,
"I draw the strings, I hang it over my arm," accompanying her
explanations by the appropriate actions, "and there I am, ready to
journey from one end of Europe to the other, or farther still, with no
anxiety."
Her young protegee lifted her eyes.
"It is too marvellous, too delightful for words!" she exclaimed.
The little old lady smiled graciously.
"I knew you would say so," she replied. "Well, now, I can extend this
magical power to you, on two conditions. You must keep the secret,
absolutely and entirely, and you must do your own work perfectly. There
must be no untidiness or hurry-scurry; you must never leave things
behind, or tear or crumple them--if so, your carelessness will bring its
own punishment, for it would prevent the spell's working, and even
I--fairy or witch as you think me----"
"No, no," Clodagh interrupted eagerly, "not witch. You are too kind and
charming to be that."
"Ah, well, we can leave aside the question of what or who I am. The
point is what I can _do_, and what I cannot. And counteract the working
or not working of the spell if the rules are broken, is beyond my
power."
"But I _will_ keep them," exclaimed Clodagh. "That is to say, I will do
my very best to be most neat and methodical. Granny trained me to be
neat. And I will keep the secret; that I promise, _only_----" and her
face fell as a sudden idea disconcerted her.
"What?"
"If Paulina suspects anything? If she notices, and thinks there is
something strange about it all?"
Cousin Felicity smiled.
"I will see to that. You need not be afraid. If you fulfil your part,
you will have _no_ trouble, as regards Paulina or any one else. Come
now--I will go with you to your rooms to explain all, before any one is
about. But first--close your eyes for a moment. Yes----" and when
Clodagh opened them, there stood the trunk again, as she had first seen
it!
She followed the old lady down a passage or two, and up some steps, till
at the end of the corridor she saw that they were in the part of the
house familiar to her. Cousin Felicity stopped in front of the two
trunks, Paulina's and Clodagh's new one, standing just outside the doors
of their rooms, and glanced at them approvingly. She was just going to
speak when the girl touched her on the arm.
"I am afraid," she began timidly, "I am afraid that Paulina may be awake
by now, and if she heard us and looked out----?"
Her friend nodded reassuringly. Then she noiselessly opened the door of
the sleeper's room and stepped in, Clodagh close behind her. It was
almost dark inside, for Paulina was not one of the people who like to
see the dawn gradually creeping up--she always had her blinds drawn
down. Still it was light enough for Clodagh to see the mysterious
visitor make her way, swiftly and soundlessly, to the side of the bed.
Then she stooped over the pretty face lying on the pillow, touched the
closed eyelids softly, murmuring something inaudible, then came back to
Clodagh waiting near the entrance and led the way outside again, closing
the door behind them.