ANETA.
So everything was settled. Cicely and Merry scarcely slept at all that
night. They were too much excited; the news was too wonderful. Now
that their wish was granted, there was pain mingled with their joy. It
seems as though perfect joy must have its modicum of pain to make it
perfect.
But when the next morning dawned the regret of the night before seemed
to have vanished. In the first place, Mr. and Mrs. Cardew had gone
early to London; and the mere fact that their father and mother were
not present was a sort of relief to the excited girls. The picnic need
not be postponed, for Mr. and Mrs. Tristram could act as chaperons on
this auspicious occasion.
They were all to meet at the Manor at eleven o'clock; and, punctual to
the hour, a goodly array of happy young people walked up the avenue
and entered the porch of the old-house. Andrew, devoted to Maggie, was
present. Jack, equally Maggie's slave, was also there. Maggie herself,
looking neat and happy, was helping every one. Molly and Belle, all
in white, and looking as charming as little girls could, were full of
expectation of their long and delightful day.
One wagonette could hold the whole party, and as it drove round to the
front door the boys fiercely took possession of the box-seat, fighting
with the coachman, who said that there would be no room for Miss
Howland to sit between them.
"Well then, Mags, if that is the case," said Peterkins, "you get along
in at once, and take this corner close to me; then, whenever we want,
we can do a bit of whispering."
"You won't whisper more than your share," said Jackdaw. "I've a
frightful lot to say to Mags this morning."
"Hush, boys!" said Maggie; "if you quarrel about me I shall not speak
to either of you."
This threat was so awful that the boys glanced at each other, remained
silent and got quietly into their places. Then the hampers were put on
the floor just under their feet.
Presently Cicely and Merry came out to join the group. They were
wearing pretty pink muslins, with pink sashes to match. Merry's
beautiful dark eyes were very bright. Mr. and Mrs. Tristram inquired
for their host and hostess.
"Oh, I have news for you!" said Merry.
"Yes," said Cicely, "Merry will tell."
"Well, it's Just this," said Merry, almost jerking out her words in
excitement: "Father and mother have been obliged to go rather
unexpectedly to town."
"Why?" said Maggie; then she restrained herself, knowing that it was
not her place to speak.
"They have gone to town," said Merry, scarcely looking at Maggie now,
and endeavoring with all her might and main not to show undue
excitement, "because a great and wonderful thing has happened;
something so unexpected that--that Cicely and I can scarcely believe
it."
Maggie glanced at the sweet little faces. She said to herself, "All
right," and got calmly into the wagonette, where she sat close under
the box-seat which contained those obstreperous young heroes Andrew
and Jack. The others clustered round Merry.
"As I said, I can scarcely believe it," said Merry; "but father has
done the most marvelous thing. Oh Belle! oh Molly! it is too
wonderful! For after all--after all, Cicely and I are to go with you
to Aylmer House in September, and--and--that is why father and mother
have gone to town. Father went up yesterday and saw Mrs. Ward, and
he--he settled it; and father and mother have gone up to-day--both of
them--to see her, and to make final arrangements. And we're to go!
we're to _go_!"
"Hurrah!" cried Molly. Immediately the boys, and Maggie and Belle, and
even Mr. and Mrs. Tristram, took up the glad "Hurrah!"
"Well, children," said Mr. Tristram when the first excitement had
subsided, "I must say I am heartily pleased. This is delightful! I
take some credit to myself for having helped on this most excellent
arrangement."
"No one thanks me for anything," thought Maggie; but she had the
prudence to remain silent.
"We had better start on our picnic now," said Mr. Tristram, and
immediately the whole party climbed into the wagonette. The horses
started; the wheels rolled. They were off.
By-and-by Merry felt her hand taken by Maggie. Maggie just squeezed
that hand, and whispered in that very, very rich and wonderfully
seductive voice of hers, "Oh, I am glad! I am very, very glad!"
Merry felt her heart thrill as Maggie uttered those words. She
answered back, turning her face to her young companion, "To be with
you alone would be happiness enough for me."
"Is it true, Cicely," said Mrs. Tristram at the moment, "that your
cousin, Aneta Lysle, is coming to stay with you?"
"Oh yes; but I had half-forgotten it in all this excitement," said
Cicely. "She will arrive to-morrow.--Maggie, you'll be glad, won't
you?"
"More than delighted," said Maggie.
"It is too wonderful," said Cicely. "Why, it will soon come to pass
that half Mrs. Ward's school will be all together during the holidays.
Fancy, we two, and you two"--she touched one of the Tristram
girls--"and you, Maggie, and then dear Aneta; why, that'll make six.
What a lot we shall have to talk about! Maggie, you and Aneta will be
our two heroines; we shall always be applying to you for
information."
The conversation was here interrupted by Jackdaw, who pinched Maggie
on the arm. "You're not attending to us," he said.
"Nonsense, Jackdaw!"
"Well, stand up for a minute; I want to whisper to you."
Maggie, who never lost a chance of ingratiating herself with any one,
obeyed.
"Jack dear, don't be troublesome," said his mother.
"I am not," said Jackdaw. "She loves it, the duck that she is!"
"Be quick, Jackdaw; it's very difficult for me to keep my hold
standing up," said Maggie.
"How many chocolates can you eat at a pinch?" whispered Jackdaw in her
ear.
"Oh, forty," replied Maggie; "but I should be rather ill afterwards."
"We've got some in our pockets. They're a little bit clammy, but you
don't mind that?"
"I don't want any just now, dear boy; and I'll tell you why. I want
to be really starving hungry when the picnic begins."
"That's a good notion, isn't it?" said Jackdaw.--"I say, Andrew, she
wants to be starving hungry when the picnic begins!"
Maggie resumed her seat, and the boys went on whispering together, and
kicking each other at intervals, and rather upsetting that very stolid
personage, Mr. Charles, the Meredith Manor coachman.
The picnic was a perfect success. When people are very happy there is
no room for discontent in their hearts, and all the members of that
party were in the highest spirits. The Cardew girls had no time yet
for that period of regret which must invariably follow a period of
intense excitement. They had no time yet to realize that they must
part with their father and mother for the greater portion of the
year.
To children so intensely affectionate as Cicely and Merry such a
parting must mean considerable pain. But even the beginning of the
pain did not come to them on that auspicious day, and they returned to
the house after the picnic in the highest good-humor.
Mr. and Mrs. Tristram, however, were wise in their generation; and
although Cicely and Merry begged and implored the whole party to come
to the Manor for supper, they very firmly declined. It is to be
regretted that both Jack and Andrew turned sulky on this occasion.
As the rectory girls and Maggie and the boys and Mr. and Mrs. Tristam
were all going homewards the two girls and Maggie fell behind.
"Isn't this real fun? Isn't it magnificent?" said Molly Tristram.
"It's a very good thing indeed for your friends Cicely and Merry,"
said Maggie. Then she added, "Didn't I tell you, girls, that you would
win your bracelets?"
Belle felt herself changing color.
"We don't want them a bit--we really don't," said Molly.
"Of course we don't want them," said Isabel.
"You'll have them all the same," said Maggie. "They are my present to
you. Surely you won't refuse my present?"
"But such a very rich and handsome present we ought not to accept,"
said Molly.
"Nonsense, girls! I shall be unhappy unless you wear them. When I
return to mother--which, alas! I must do before many days are over--I
shall send you the bracelets."
"I wish you wouldn't, Maggie," said Belle Tristram; "for I am certain
father and mother would not like us to wear jewelry while we are so
young."
"Well, then," said Maggie, "I will give them to you when we all meet
at Aylmer House. You must take them; you know you promised you would.
You will hurt me most frightfully if you don't."
As Molly and Isabel certainly did not wish to hurt Maggie, they
remained silent, and during the rest of the walk the three girls
scarcely spoke. Meanwhile Cicely and Merry entered the Manor House and
waited impatiently for the return of their father and mother.
"We must get everything extra nice for them," said Cicely to her
sister. "I do think it is so wonderfully splendid of them to send us
to school."
The sun had already set, and twilight had come on; but it would be
quite impossible for Mr. and Mrs. Cardew to arrive at the Manor until
about ten o'clock. What, therefore, was the amazement of the girls
when they heard carriage-wheels in the distance!
"Father and mother could not possibly have done their business and
caught the early train," said Merry in some excitement. "Who can be
coming now?"
The next moment their doubts were set at rest, for Aneta Lysle entered
the hall.
"I came to-day after all," she said. "Auntie thought it would be more
convenient. You got my telegram, didn't you?"
These words were uttered while her two cousins, in rapture and
delight, were kissing her.
"No, no," said Merry, "we got no telegram; but, oh, Aneta! we are glad
to see you."
"Here's the telegram on the hall-table," said Aneta, and she took up a
yellow envelope. This was addressed to "Cardew, Meredith Manor." "Yes,
I know this must be from me," said Aneta. "But why didn't you open
it?"
"Well, the fact is," said Cicely, "father and mother were in London,
and the rest of us were out on a picnic. But it doesn't matter a bit;
you've come, and the sooner the better. Oh, it is nice to see you
again! But how tall you are, Neta, and how grown up you look!"
"I am seventeen, remember," said Aneta. "I don't feel grown-up, but
auntie says I look it."
"Oh, come into the light--do," said Merry, "and let's see you! We've
heard so very much of you lately, and we want to look at your darling
face again."
"And I want to look at you both," said Aneta in her affectionate
manner.
The servants had conveyed Miss Lysle's luggage into the house, and now
the three girls, with their arms twined round each other, entered the
same big drawing-room where Mr. Cardew had given his wonderful news of
the night before. There was a blaze of electric light, and this,
judiciously softened with rose-colored silk, was most becoming to all
those who came under its influence. But the strongest glare of light
could not disfigure any one so absolutely beautiful as Aneta Lysle.
Her delicate complexion, the wonderful purity and regularity of her
features, her sweet, tender young mouth, her charming blue eyes, and
her great luxuriance of golden hair made people who looked at her
once long to study that charming face again and yet again.
There was no vanity about this young girl; her manner, her expression,
were simplicity itself. There was a certain nobility about her fine
forehead, and the shape of her head was classical, and showed
undoubted talent. Her clear, musical voice was in itself a charm. Her
young figure was the very personification of grace. Beside her, Cicely
and Merry felt awkward and commonplace; not that they were so, but
very few people could attain to Aneta Lysle's incomparable beauty.
"Well, girls," she said, "you do look sweet, both of you!"
"Oh Neta, what a darling you are!" said Merry, who worshipped beauty,
and had never come across any one so lovely as her cousin. "It's two
years since we met," she continued, "and you have altered, and not
altered. You're more grown-up and more--more stately, but your face is
the same. Whenever we want to think of the angels we think of you too,
Neta."
"That is very sweet of you, darlings; but, indeed, I am far from being
an angel. I am just a very human girl; and, please, if you don't mind,
we won't discuss my looks any more."
Cicely and Merry both save their cousin a thoughtful glance. Then they
said eagerly, "You must come to your room and wash your hands, and get
refreshed for supper, for of course you are starving."
"I shall like to have something to eat," said Aneta. "What room am I
to have, girls?"
"Oh, the white room, next to ours; we arranged it all this morning,"
said Cicely.
"Well, come along at once," said Aneta.
Soon the three girls found themselves in the beautiful bedroom which
had been arranged for Aneta's reception. As soon as ever they got
there Cicely clasped one of her cousin's arms and Merry the other.
"We have news for you--news!" they said.
"Yes?" said Aneta, looking at them with her bright, soft eyes.
"Most wonderful--most extraordinary--most--most beautiful!" said
Merry, speaking almost with passion. "We're going to your school; yes,
to yours--to Aylmer House, in September. Could you have believed it?
Think of father consenting, and just because I felt a little
discontented. Oh, isn't he an angel? Father, of all people, who until
now would not hear of our leaving home! But we're going."
"Well," said Aneta, "I am not greatly surprised, for I happen to know
that your father, Cousin Cyril, came to see auntie yesterday, and
afterwards he went to visit Mrs. Ward, and after his visit we saw Mrs.
Ward; and, although he had not quite made up his mind then whether he
would send you or not, we quite thought he would do so. Yes, this is
splendid. I'll he able to tell you lots about the school; but, after
all, it isn't the school that matters."
"Then what matters, Aneta?"
"It's Mrs. Ward herself," said Aneta; "it's she who makes the whole
thing so perfect. She guides us; she enlightens us. Sometimes I can
scarcely talk of her, my love for her and my passion for her are so
deep."
Cicely and Merry looked thoughtful for a minute.
"I'm ready now to come downstairs," said Aneta; and they went down, to
find supper prepared for them, and the old butler waiting to attend on
his young ladies.
After the meal was over the girls retired to the drawing-room, where
they all three sat by one of the windows waiting for Mr. and Mrs.
Cardew's return.
Merry then said, "It is so funny of you, Aneta, to speak as though the
school was Mrs. Ward."
"But it is," said Aneta.
"Surely, surely," said Merry, "it's the girls too."
"You will be surprised, perhaps, Aneta, to hear," said Cicely, "that
our dear, darling friends--our greatest girl-friends, except yourself
perhaps, and you're a sort of sister--Molly and Isabel Tristram are
also going to Aylmer House in September. They are so nice--you will
like them; and then, of course, there's Maggie Howland, one of the
most charming girls we have come across."
"Whom did you say?" asked Aneta.
"Maggie Howland. She is here."
"In this house?" said Aneta.
"No; she is at the rectory. She is a special friend of Molly and
Isabel. She has been at school with them before in Hanover. You know
her, of course? She is one of the girls at Aylmer House."
"I know her--oh yes, I know her," said Aneta.
"And you like her, you feel her charm, you--you almost worship her,
don't you, Neta?"
Aneta was silent.
"Oh, I know she is considered plain," said Merry, "but there's
something about her which prevents one even considering her features.
She is the most unselfish, most fascinating girl we have ever come
across. You love her, don't you, Neta?"
There had come a curious change over Aneta's face. After a brief pause
she said, "I have no right to say it, but you two are my cousins"----
"Yes, yes! What does this mean?" said Cicely with great eagerness.
"Well, I know you will be faithful and not repeat it to any one; but I
don't love Maggie Howland."
"Oh, Neta!"
"And," continued Aneta, "you; as my cousins, I most earnestly hope,
will not make her your special friend at Aylmer House."
"But we have done so already, Neta. Oh, Neta darling! you are mistaken
in her."
"I say nothing whatever against her," said Aneta, "except that
personally I do not care for her. I should be very glad if I found
that I had misjudged her."
"Then why don't you want us to be friends with her? We are friends
with her."
"I cannot control you, darlings. When you come to school you will see
a variety of girls, and most of them--indeed, all of them--nice, I
think."
"Then why shouldn't we like poor Maggie?"
"You do like her, it seems, already."
"Yes; but you are so mysterious, Neta."
"I cannot say any more; you must forgive me," answered Aneta. "And I
hear the sound of wheels. Your father and mother are coming."
"Yes, yes, the darlings!" said Merry, rushing into the hall to meet
her parents.
Aneta and Cicely followed her example, and there was great excitement
and much talk. Mrs. Cardew was now as anxious that the girls should go
to Aylmer House as though she herself had always wished for such an
arrangement, while Mr. Cardew could not say enough in Mrs. Ward's
praise.
"You agree with me, Aneta," said Mrs. Cardew, "that the school is
quite unique and above the ordinary."
"Mrs. Ward is unique and above the ordinary," was Aneta's reply.
When the girls retired to their own rooms that night, Cicely and Merry
met for a brief moment.
"How funny of Aneta not to like Maggie!" said Merry.
"Well, if I were you, Merry," said Cicely, "I wouldn't talk about it.
I suppose Aneta is prejudiced."
"Yes," said Merry; "but against Maggie, of all people! Well, I, for my
part, will never give her up."
"I suppose," said Cicely, who was more conscientious than her sister,
"that we ought to think something of Aneta's opinion."
"Oh, that's very fine," said Merry; "but we ought to think something,
too, of Molly's opinion, and Belle's opinion. They have known Maggie
longer than Aneta has."
"Yes," replied Cicely; "I forgot that. But isn't Aneta herself
delightful? It's a pure joy to look at her."
"It certainly is," said Merry; "and of course I love her dearly and am
very proud of her; but I confess I did not quite like her when she
spoke in that queer way about dear little Maggie. I, at least, am
absolutely determined that nothing will induce me to give Maggie up."
"Of course we won't give her up," said Cicely. But she spoke with
thought.