BACK AT ST. OSWYTH’S
Our lovers took a tender farewell of each other.
No other course had been open to Sir Gilbert than to assume that, after
leaving the Chase, his son would book himself by an early steamer back
to America. Should such prove to be the case, Lisle would be only a few
days behind him. Everard calculated that if he were fortunate enough to
light on “Mr. John Alexander” immediately after his arrival at
Pineapple City, he might count upon being back at the Chase in a day or
two under three weeks. He would write to Ethel as soon as he landed at
New York, and again on reaching Pineapple City, but he would have to
console himself as best he could without any news of, or from, her
between the date of his departure and that of his return.
He left Mapleford at an early hour next morning, which was that of
Friday. He had already settled in his mind to sail by the _Arbaces_,
which was timed to leave Liverpool at noon on Saturday. Thus he had the
whole intervening day to himself, and he determined to devote it to a
purpose about which he said no word to anyone at the Chase—not even to
Ethel.
He had been greatly struck with the story told him by Ethel that
afternoon as they wandered together by the margin of the haunted pool,
and since then he had thought about it much and often. It was a mystery
the solution of which, as it seemed to him, would have to be sought for
in the United States. It was from there Ethel had been brought as an
infant, and it could scarcely be doubted that she had been born there.
Now that he was bound for America on another matter, he had made up his
mind, before sailing, to run down to St. Oswyth’s, interview the Miss
Thursbys, and satisfy himself as to whether there was, or was not, a
possibility of eliciting from them sufficient information to enable him
to build up a case worth investigating whilst he was in the States.
Ethel had not failed to tell her aunts in her letters about her meeting
with Everard Lisle, nor of her surprise at finding that he was in the
service of Sir Gilbert Clare, who was none other than first cousin to
Lady Pell, and thereafter his name found a mention in nearly all her
letters. The sisters were glad that it should be so, and told
themselves that it must be pleasant for Ethel to be associated with
someone who came from St. Oswyth’s, and that the two doubtless found
many subjects in common to talk about. Not a suspicion of what was
presently to happen ever found lodgment in their minds until Ethel
informed them of her actual engagement, subject to their approval. It
was a letter full of love and dutiful affection to the aunts, though
every word proved that for all time she had given away her heart to
Everard Lisle.
The important epistle was delivered at Rose Mount just as the sisters
had finished breakfast, and was brought in by Tamsin when she came to
clear the table. “From Miss Ethel,” said the old woman as she laid it
down in front of Miss Matilda, whose turn to enact the part of elder
sister it happened to be. Ethel’s letters always arrived about
breakfast-time and were read aloud by one or other of the sisters, and,
somehow, Tamsin generally contrived to be present at the reading—a
privilege tacitly accorded her by her mistresses.
Miss Matilda, with characteristic precision, proceeded to slit open the
envelope with the tiny pair of scissors which she always carried in a
case in her pocket. Tamsin, with dilatory fingers, was removing the
breakfast things one by one on to the tray which she had brought in
with her.
Miss Matilda read the first few lines aloud, and then paused in a
tremor of agitation. A low cry escaped from Miss Jane.
The sisters gazed at each other across the table, the same expression
of consternation and distress on the faces of both. “Engaged to Everard
Lisle! Oh! who would have thought it?” they exclaimed at the same
moment, for not only their thoughts on any given subject, but very
often the words by which they gave expression to them, were identical.
Then for a minute or more both seemed unable to find another word to
say.
“I should have thought,” said Miss Matilda at length in her most
dignified tone, in which there was yet an unwonted quaver, as she gave
a tug at the little knitted shawl which she always wore at breakfast
time: “I should have thought that, after the wretched experience Ethel
went through so recently, she would have shunned the other sex most
assiduously, if not for ever, in any case for a very long time to
come.”
Miss Matilda took up the letter again and read aloud to the end. Tamsin
had transferred the breakfast things to her tray, and had deposited the
latter on the sideboard; she now proceeded to draw the cloth off the
table and to slowly fold it. Not a word escaped her.
“I am afraid, sister, that we can but bow to the inevitable,” said Miss
Matilda with a sigh as she folded the letter. “It seems to me that we
have no right, even if we had the will, to withhold our approval of the
step she has chosen to take.”
“My own view exactly,” replied Miss Jane with a sorrowful shake of the
head. “And yet—oh, dear!—we shall only have the dear girl back at home
to lose her permanently after a little while. And I was looking
forward—— Oh! I was looking forward to so many things.”
And then before more could be said Tamsin’s voice broke suddenly in.
“And is it not a right and proper thing that Miss Ethel should marry
and have a home of her own?” demanded the old woman in tones which had
something of an injured ring in them. “Why should she not have a
husband to love and cherish her—some good man to whose life she—in her
turn—will be a blessing? Ay, and he is a good man, is Mr. Everard
Lisle—very different from that other one! If some of us have missed it,
is there any reason why we should begrudge it to her? I trow not,
indeed—I trow not!”
She and her tray were gone before Miss Matilda had sufficiently
recovered from her astonishment to find a word to say.
“Really, the way Tamsin presumes on our good nature and her own length
of service is at times most trying. I am afraid that one of these days
we shall be under the necessity of giving her notice.” It was not the
first time Miss Matilda had spoken to the same effect; but no one knew
better than she how empty was the threat.
“It seems to me, sister,” remarked Miss Jane timidly, “that we have
been justly rebuked for our selfishness. We have been thinking more of
our own loss than of the dear girl’s happiness. That is not as it
should be.”
Miss Matilda did not answer for a little while. She seemed intent on
tearing up the envelope of Ethel’s letter into the tiniest of
fragments. Then she said gently: “You are right, sister. It _is_ the
child’s happiness that we ought to consider first of all. But”—with a
sigh—“we are growing old, and the house will seem very lonely without
her.”
Then, somehow, tears sprang to the eyes of both, and for a little space
they wept silently.
But there were no traces of tears in their eyes when, about four
o’clock the same afternoon, just as they had agreed between themselves
that if Ethel must marry, there was no one to whom they would sooner
entrust her than to Everard Lisle, they were startled by seeing Lisle
himself marching up the garden-path and making direct for the front
door.
Nor were the sisters less surprised when he informed them of the
special purpose which had brought him there. They willingly entered
into all the details of the story which Ethel had told him, going over
it with him step by step; but in the result he found that he had been
unable to add anything of real consequence to that which he knew
already.
One thing, however, they were in a position to give him, although he
had his doubts as to its value, seeing that it bore date nineteen years
back, and that was the address of Kirby Griggs, the lawyer’s clerk, who
had recognised the portrait of the self-styled Mrs. Montmorenci-Vane as
that of his unmarried sister, Martha Griggs. Miss Matilda had found the
address after her brother’s death in his private memorandum book.
When, after Everard was gone, Tamsin took in the supper tray, she had
to set her mouth hard in order to suppress the smile which would
otherwise have puckered it. In place of the morning’s agitations and
tears, the sisters were now complacently discussing the important
question of what material Ethel’s wedding-dress should be made! “And
now to come to the pecuniary part of the affair,” said Miss Matilda. “I
should not like our dear girl to go to her husband quite empty-handed.”
“Certainly not, sister. The same thought has been in my own mind. I do
not suppose that Mr. Lisle’s position is a specially lucrative one.”
“For my part, I should be quite willing to settle on Ethel my
half-share of the rental of Vale View House, which, now that Mrs.
Loftus has taken it on a seven years’ lease, will be a sure source of
income for that length of time.”
“It would make me very happy to do the same with my half-share. Now
that we have grown used to our humbler style of living, we really don’t
need the rent money. And in future there will be only our two selves,
you know, sister.”
“No, only our two selves,” echoed Miss Matilda, sadly.
That night, when Tamsin went upstairs to her own room, she took out of
a drawer her savings bank book and refreshed her memory as to the sum
which stood there to her credit, and represented the savings of many
laborious years. That sum she made up her mind should be very
considerably depleted before she was much older. To what better use
could she put the money than in buying a wedding-present for the child
who had been, and would ever be, as dear to her rugged, but tender old
heart as she could possibly be to the heart of Miss Matilda or Miss
Jane!