HOME AGAIN
DAVID GILBANK lost no time in sending Mr. Hollys the address he wanted;
but Mr. Hollys suffered some days to pass ere he went in search of
Robert Harvey. When he did call at the private hotel at which that
gentleman had been staying, he learned that Mr. Robert Harvey had
sailed for Canada on the previous day. He had stated that business
called him suddenly away, but that his visit would be brief, and he
hoped to return to London by the end of the summer. But Mr. Hollys,
having made up his mind that this could not be Coral's uncle, concerned
himself very little about Mr. Harvey's doings. He told the children the
result of his enquiries, and then dismissed the matter from his mind—an
example they speedily followed.
Beryl found a pleasant surprise awaiting her on her return from
visiting Mr. Gilbank, in the shape of a kind note from Miss Burton
inviting her pupils to spend a long day with her at her home. No
prospect could have seemed more delightful to the two children, and
when the day arrived, they enjoyed it fully as much as they expected.
Space does not permit us to dwell upon the pleasures of that long day
at Hampstead—the kindness of Miss Burton's mother and sisters, the
freedom in which they were allowed to make acquaintance with every
corner of the little old-fashioned house, and the delightful ramble
over Hampstead Heath, which set the children longing to return to the
country.
Too quickly the day passed. As they came back from their walk, their
tongues still busy—for it seemed as if they could never say all they
wanted to Miss Burton—they were dismayed to find Mrs. Everard's
carriage already awaiting them at the gate of the cottage.
"We told Lucy not to come till nine," they said; "and it is not nine
yet."
But, to their surprise, it was not Lucy, but Mr. Hollys, who had come
to fetch them. They found him in the little drawing-room talking to
Mrs. Burton. He had come, he said, in order to have a few words with
Miss Burton. He wanted to make arrangements for the children's return
home with her early in the following week.
"Oh, are we going home?" exclaimed both the children at once. "That
will be nice!"
"Well, I never!" exclaimed Mr. Hollys. "What strange creatures children
are! You were glad enough to come away, and now you are just as
delighted to go back."
"Oh, but you know, papa," said Beryl, "there is no place like home."
Little Coral was wearied with her long day of enjoyment, and as they
drove home she fell asleep in her corner of the carriage. But Beryl was
wide awake, and her mind working busily. Suddenly she perceived that
this was a favourable opportunity of putting to her father a question
she had resolved to ask him, though she had much dread of what his
answer might be.
She leaned forward and gently touched his hand to attract his attention.
Mr. Hollys' thoughts must have been very absorbing at that moment,
for he started and looked round with the expression of one who had
forgotten for a time where he was.
"Papa, I want to say something to you," whispered Beryl; "but don't
speak loudly, because Coral is asleep."
"Well, what is it?" he asked, rousing himself with a sigh to listen.
"I want to ask you a question, papa," said Beryl, with unwonted
timidity. "I hope you won't mind my asking it; I feel so very anxious
to know."
"Of course I shall not mind, child," returned her father carelessly;
"why make such a fuss about it? You are not generally shy of asking
questions."
"But this is something very particular," said Beryl, still hesitating.
"Really! I am curious to hear what it is," he said playfully. "Out with
it, Beryl."
"Papa, is it true that you are going to marry Mrs. Campbell?"
"What?" he exclaimed, in a tone of profound astonishment. "What do you
say, Beryl?"
Beryl repeated the question.
"My dear Beryl! What can have put such an idea into your head?" he
returned.
"Isn't it true, papa?" she asked anxiously.
"Certainly not," he replied, "nor ever will be."
"Oh, I am so glad!" she exclaimed, drawing a deep sigh of relief.
"Whatever has made you think of such a thing?" he asked again.
Then Beryl repeated to him the words she had heard pass between the two
servants.
Mr. Hollys laughed as he listened, but yet he seemed annoyed.
"Whatever will people say next!" he exclaimed. "I never knew anything
like the mischief women will make with their tongues. I hope you have
not said a word of this to any one, Beryl?"
"I told Miss Burton," said Beryl.
"Did you? You should not have done so. What did she say?" he said
quickly.
"Oh, I don't know—she did not say much—only that I must be a good girl
and try to make the best of it," said Beryl.
"Oh," said Mr. Hollys, and became silent.
"I am very glad it is not true," observed Beryl presently. "I could not
bear to have a stepmother; I hope you will never marry again, papa."
"Why should you hope that?" he returned almost sharply. "I might marry
a good woman whom you would love and who would make you happy."
"Oh, I could not be happy with a stepmother," exclaimed Beryl
confidently. "They are never good. I should hate her—I know I should."
"That is a foolish notion you have picked up," said her father. "You
should not speak in that positive way about things you know nothing of."
"But, papa, you are not thinking of marrying, are you?" asked Beryl,
getting alarmed.
Mr. Hollys was silent for a moment or two, ere he replied to her
question.
"You need not be afraid, Beryl," he said, at last, rather
constrainedly. "I do not think I am likely to marry again."
Beryl was hardly satisfied with this reply; but she had not time to say
more, for the carriage was drawing up at Mrs. Everard's door, and Coral
woke with a start.
A few days later the children, with ill-concealed elation, said
good-bye to Mrs. Everard and her household, and started on their
journey homewards. Mr. Hollys drove with them to the London terminus,
where Miss Burton met them, as arranged. Mr. Hollys seemed sorry that
he was not going with them.
"I shall soon follow you, Beryl," he said. "I feel that I have had
enough of London."
"Oh, do, papa! That will be nice!" cried Beryl joyfully.
Beryl's spirits did not flag through all the long journey to
Egloshayle. When she sprang out of train at the little country station,
she appeared almost as fresh as when she started, from London.
How pleasant it was to be at Egloshayle again! The cool evening breeze
which greeted them was so much sweeter and purer than any air to be
breathed in London. And then to catch the distant murmur of the waves,
and see them tumbling in merry haste upon the shore—what pleasure in
town could compare with that?
Miss Burton smiled to see the rapture with which the children welcomed
each familiar sight and sound as they drove home in the waning light.
"How true it is that there is no place like home!" remarked Beryl, as
Egloshayle House came in sight.
"It is worthwhile to go away to have the pleasure of coming back," said
Coral sagely.
In her joy at finding herself at home, Beryl threw her arms around
her aunt's neck, and gave her an unusually warm embrace, till that
lady implored her niece to have mercy on her pretty lace frill. She
even had a kind word and caress for the fat, lazy poodle, and soon—as
followed by Coral she ran through the house, looking into every nook
and corner, and making enquiries concerning all that had happened in
her absence—the whole household had cause to know that Miss Beryl had
come home.