"Give her a word, good or bad, and she'd spin such a web from the
hint,
And colour a meaningless phrase with so vivid a lint."
_Hilda_.
It was a lovely evening when the little party arrived at their
destination. Many people had noticed them during their long journey,
the two pretty sisters and the children, with no one but their old
servant to take care of them; for their deep mourning told its own
story. Many a kindly heart thought pityingly of them, and sent silent
good wishes with them on their way.
There had been some talk of their staying a day or two in London, in
which case Mr Auriol would have met them. But this Lettice, the ruling
spirit, vetoed.
"Let us get straight to that place," she said, "and have it over."
What she meant Nina did not very well understand. She supposed her to
refer to the meeting with Miss Branksome, the lady-companion, or
"chaperone," whom Mr Auriol had engaged, and who was to await them at
Faxleham Cottage. Nina herself was not without some anticipatory awe of
this person, but it was tempered by a strong feeling of pity. And once,
when she alluded to her in speaking to Lettice, she was almost amazed to
find that her sister shared the latter.
"Poor woman!" said Lettice gravely, "she has undertaken a hard task. I
could almost find it in my heart to be sorry for her."
Nina could not help smiling as she replied, "But it need not be a hard
task, Lettice; not--not unless _we_ make it so for her."
"False positions are always hard," said Lettice oracularly. "She is
coming to take care of us, and we don't want or need to be taken care
of."
Then, a moment after, she surprised Nina by asking her to write to Mr
Auriol to tell him when they were starting, and when they expected to
reach Faxleham, as she had promised to let him know.
"I am so tired," she said, which was an unusual confession, "and I
should be so glad if you would do it for me. Besides, he likes you so
much better than me; he will be pleased to get a letter from you."
"I don't think he really likes me better," said Nina innocently. "I am
not clever enough for him. If he had met you--differently--I am sure he
would have liked you best."
Lettice did not answer. But a moment or two later, as she was leaving
the room, she spoke again on the same subject.
"You'll let me see your letter before you send it, won't you?" she said.
"Don't be afraid that I shall be vexed if you write cordially. I don't
want him to think us ungrateful. It isn't _his_ fault."
Nina could scarcely believe her ears. What could be coming ever
Lettice? She wished Arthur were at hand to talk over this wonderful
change, which she felt completely unable to explain. But it was not
Nina's "way" to trouble or perplex herself about problems which, as she
said to herself, would probably sooner or later solve themselves. In
this, as in most other characteristics, she was a complete contrast to
her sister.
She wrote the letter--a pretty, girlish, almost affectionate little
letter it was--and brought it to Lettice for approval. The elder sister
read it, smiling once or twice in a manner that would have puzzled Nina
had she been given to puzzling.
"Yes," said Lettice, "it will do very well;" and she was turning away,
when Nina stopped her.
"Lettice," she began.
"Well?"
"I wanted to tell you--yesterday, when I was out with Bertha, we--I--met
Mr Dexter. It is the first time I have seen him since our--our
mourning."
"I think it was very inconsiderate of him to speak to you in the
street," said Lettice. "Here, too, where everything one does is
observed."
"It was only for one instant," said Nina, appealingly. "He asked me to
tell you--they are leaving to-morrow morning--to tell you that he will
call this evening to say good-bye, and he hopes he may see us."
Lettice's face had grown harder.
"I thought they were already gone," she said, as if speaking to herself.
Then second thoughts intervened. "I suppose we must see him. I don't
want to be rude. Besides, he is a friend of Godfrey's. Yes; perhaps
you had better tell Marianne that if he calls she can let him in."
The permission was not too gracious, but it was more than Nina had hoped
for.
"It is evidently for Godfrey's sake," she reflected. "And yet, when he
was here, Lettice was so seldom the least pleasant to him."
Philip did call. He was nervous, and yet with a certain determination
about him that impressed Lettice in spite of herself, and she felt
exceedingly glad to hear him repeat that he and his sister were leaving
the next morning.
"I shall look forward to seeing you again, before very long, in
England," he said manfully, as he got up to go.
"I don't know much about our plans," said Lettice, and her tone was not
encouraging. "We have only taken a house for the summer. I don't know
what we shall do then."
"Faxleham is not so very far from my part of the country," said Philip.
"Is it not?" said Lettice suspiciously; and she looked at Mr Dexter in
a way that made the young man's face flush slightly. He was one of
those fair-complexioned men who change colour almost as quickly as a
girl, and whose good looks are to themselves entirely destroyed by their
persistent boyishness. At five and twenty he looked little more than
nineteen.
"But I am not likely to be there for the next twelve months," he
continued coldly, and with a certain dignity. "My place has been let
for some years, and the lease will not expire till the spring. No; if I
see you at Faxleham or elsewhere I must come expressly."
He looked at Lettice and she at him. It was a tacit throwing down of
the gauntlet on his part, and angry as she felt, it yet made her respect
the young man whom hitherto she had spoken of so contemptuously as a
boy. She bade him good-bye with courtesy, not to say friendliness, much
to Nina's relief, and even carried her attention so far as to accompany
him to the door, talking busily all the time of the details of his
journey, so that, as she flattered herself, there was no opportunity for
any last words between him and her sister. And as she went upstairs,
where Bertha was already beginning the packing--such a sad packing! the
hundred and one little possessions of their mother to cry over and
wonder what to do with--all the bright-coloured belongings with which,
full of the hopefulness of inexperienced youth, they had left England in
the autumn, to consign to the bottom of the trunks and wish they could
be put out of sight for ever--she said to herself, not without
self-congratulation at her perspicacity, that it was evidently time for
_that_ to be put a stop to. And she would have been strengthened in her
opinion had she known that at that very moment Nina, leaning sadly on
the balcony--_she_ had not gone to the door with Philip--was cheered by
the sight of his face, as, passing up the street instead of down,
certainly not the nearest way to his home, he stood still for a moment
on the chance of seeing her again, and, lifting his hat, called out
softly, not "goodbye" but "au revoir."
Lettice wondered at Nina's good spirits that evening.
"Evidently she does not, as yet, care much about him. She was so very
young when she first met him--how unfortunate it was!--and was, no
doubt, flattered by his attention. But she _cannot_ but see how
superior Godfrey Auriol is--how much more of a _man_--and then by-and-by
it will be easy to suggest how mother would have liked it. One of her
own name, and altogether so closely connected with her!"
And the imaginary castle in the air which Lettice had constructed for
her sister's happiness assumed more and more imposing and attractive
proportions. Lettice had such faith in herself as an architect; she
knew so much better than people themselves the sort of castle they
_should_ live and be happy in.
So that, on _her_ side, Nina wondered at Lettice's improved spirits
during the last few days at Esparto, and even through the journey. For,
besides the other recommendations of the project she had built upon such
slender foundations, Lettice felt that there was a good deal of
magnanimity in herself for approving of and encouraging such an idea.
"It shows I am _not_ prejudiced," she said to herself with satisfaction.
"And if dear mamma could but know it, she would see how ready I am to
sacrifice any personal feelings of mine when _hers_ would have been
concerned. For, of course, though Godfrey is not actually connected
with the Morisons, he has entirely ranged himself on their side."
We have wandered a long way from the evening of the arrival at Faxleham,
but perhaps it was necessary to explain how it came to pass that the
outer sunshine was matched by greater inward serenity than might, all
things considered, have been expected.
It was, as I said, a most lovely evening. The drive from the station at
Garford was through pretty country lanes, where the hedges were at their
freshest, untouched as yet by summer dust, and the wild roses and
honeysuckle were already in bud, giving promise of their later beauty.
And to the young travellers, after their several months' absence in
different scenery, the sweet, homely beauty of their own country was
very attractive.
"Is it not pretty? So peaceful and yet bright! Just think how mamma
would have liked it!" exclaimed Nina; and, though Lettice did not speak,
she pressed her sister's hand sympathisingly.
The children, of course, were in ecstasies, though once or twice they
glanced up at Lettice, half ashamed of their own delight; but she smiled
back at them so kindly that they were quickly reassured; and a whisper
which she overheard of Lotty's gave her greater pleasure than she could
have expressed.
"Lettice is getting like mamma," the child said. "When she is so kind,
she always makes me think of mamma."
And Lettice always was kind when she felt thoroughly pleased with
herself, as she did just now. If only her foundation had been the rock
of real principle, and not the sands of passing moods and impulses!
"Don't you think, Lettice," said Nina, in a low voice, venturing a
little further--"don't you think we are going to be happy--at least,
peaceful--here?"
Lettice had not the heart to repulse her.
"I shall be very glad, dear, if you feel so," she said, "and I am sure I
want to make the best of things. If--if there were not that unhappy
Miss Branksome looming in the distance--in the nearness, rather! I know
exactly what she will be like. I know those decayed gentlewomen so
well. Tall and lank and starved-looking, always having headaches and
nerves, and tears in her eyes for nothing, and yet everlastingly
interfering. Of course, she must interfere. It's her business; it's
what she's there for."
But before Nina had time to reply, the carriage stopped. They had
reached their destination.
Faxleham Cottage was what its name implied--a real cottage. It had no
drive or "approach," save the simple, old-fashioned little footpath,
leading from the garden-gate to the wide, low porch entrance. But
unpretending as it was, an exclamation of pleasure broke involuntarily
from the lips of its new tenants, as they stepped out of the carriage
and entered the sweet, trim, and yet luxuriant little garden, gay with
early flowers, not a weed to be seen, bright and smiling in the soft
evening sunlight.
Lettice, too, felt the pleasant influence.
"How I wish mamma could see it!" was her unspoken thought. "If it were
_she_ who was to welcome us instead of--" And as she went forward she
glanced before her apprehensively, half expecting to see realised the
unattractive personage she had ingeniously constructed in her
imagination.
A lady was standing in the porch, and, as the new-comers came forward,
she stepped out to meet them.
"I am so glad to see you all safe," she said in a bright, pleasant
voice. "I must introduce myself, but you know who I am?"
"Miss Branksome," said Nina, always the ready one on such occasions,
probably because her mind was never over occupied with herself or her
own concerns. But, with her usual tact, she stepped back a very little,
leaving Lettice, as the eldest, to shake hands first with the
lady-companion.
And Lettice, to her own surprise as she did so, found herself thinking,
"How pretty she is! She is certainly _not_ like a decayed gentlewoman."
Miss Branksome was very pretty; some people might think it better to say
"had been," for she was more than middle-aged; she was almost elderly.
Her hair was perfectly white, and her soft face had the faint delicate
pink flush that comes to fair complexions with age, so different from
the brilliant roses of youth. Her eyes were bright, but very gentle in
expression, and her figure was daintily small.
"She looks like an old fairy," Nina said afterwards, and the description
was not a bad one.
Everything that genuine kindliness, based on thorough good principle,
and aided by great natural tact, could do to make the orphans feel as
happy in their new home as was possible for them, was done by Miss
Branksome that first evening. Even Lettice succumbed to the pleasant
influence. It was new for her to be taken care of, even, as it were,
petted, and it came so naturally to the bright, kind-hearted, active
little woman to make everybody about her happy, or at least comfortable,
that she could not help trying her hand on even the redoubtable Miss
Morison, as to whom Mr Auriol had given her some salutary warning.
"You must be so tired, my dears," she said, with the smiles and tears
struggling together at the same time, "I thought you would like tea
better than anything; and perhaps--this first evening--would you like me
to pour it out?"
It was perfectly impossible to stand on one's dignity or to keep up any
prejudice with one so genuine and single-minded; and Nina's heart was
relieved of an immense weight when they all went to bed that night.
For some time everything went better than could have been hoped. By
dint of her simple goodness, by dint, perhaps, of in no way planning or
scheming to get it, Miss Branksome unconsciously gained Lettice's
confidence; and when Mr Auriol came down to see his young charges two
or three weeks after their arrival, he was most agreeably surprised by
the happy state of things. Not being above human weakness, he could not
help congratulating himself on the skill which he had displayed in an
undoubtedly awkward situation, though, at the same time, he was only too
ready to give credit to all concerned.
"You have done marvels," he said to Miss Branksome, who had been a
friend of his from his childhood. "They all seem as fond of you as
possible. Not that I had any fear for Nina or the little ones; only
for--Lettice."
"And yet of all, she, I think, has most gained my heart," said the
little lady. "She is so thorough; there is nothing small or ungenerous
about her. Nina is very sweet; but if there is any triumph for me, or
satisfaction rather, it is certainly with regard to Lettice. I feel so
sure of her. I cannot quite understand your having found her what you
described. Are you sure--forgive me now, Godfrey--are you sure there
was no sort of prejudice on _your_ side?" Godfrey's face flushed.
"None whatever," he exclaimed. "I met her as free from prejudice, from
any preconceived idea even, as was possible. And the first time I saw
her I thought her as charming and gentle as she is personally
attractive. It all came out when the question of the Morison feud was
raised. It seemed to change her very nature. You have not come upon
that as yet, I suppose?"
"Not in the least. Of course I have no right to do so, unless she does;
but she knows that I do not know her uncle and aunt, and that they do
not know me. I think that has given me an advantage with her. At first
I fancied she suspected, or was ready to suspect, that Mr and Mrs
Morison had had to do with my being chosen, and I was glad to be able,
indirectly, to let her see they had not."
Mr Auriol seemed lost in reflection.
"I wonder when I should speak to her--to them all--about their uncle
again," he said at last. "He is so very anxious for some happier state
of things, and he trusts to me to bring it about. Lettice could not be
pleasanter than she is now, just like what she was at the very first. I
wonder if I dare risk it?"
"Not yet," said Miss Branksome. "At least, that is my impression. Let
her not think that you came down this time with any purpose except to
see how they all are. Leave it all a little longer to her own good
sense. She might commit herself to some decision she would afterwards
be ashamed to withdraw from, if you spoke of it all again before she has
had time thoroughly to consider it."
Mr Auriol shrugged his shoulders.
"She has had time enough, it seems to me," he said. "However, I know
you are wiser than I."
Just at that moment Lettice and Nina joined them in the garden.
"We are going to fetch Auriol home from school," said Lettice. "Would
you come with us?" she added, looking up at her cousin.
"Certainly, with the greatest pleasure," he said; and the three set off.
But they had not gone far when Lettice stopped and hesitated.
"If you won't think me rude for changing my mind," she said, "I think I
would rather not go to-day. I want to write to Arthur."
Nina looked at her in surprise, and a slight look of annoyance crossed
Mr Auriol's face. But Lettice did not see it.
"Of course it doesn't matter," said Nina good-naturedly. "But I don't
think you need be in such a very great hurry about writing to Arthur."
"I want to write to-night," Lettice repeated, "and I know Mr Auriol
won't mind;" and she smiled so pleasantly that the annoyance left his
face.
"She is an odd girl," he thought to himself. "However, it is as well
perhaps that my walk is to be _tete-a-tete_ with Nina and not with her.
I might have been tempted to try the ground again in spite of Miss
Branksome's advice, and might have done more harm than good. With Nina
I am quite safe."
And, so far as Nina was concerned, the result of their talk was
perfectly satisfactory. It was with a more hopeful feeling than he had
yet had on the subject that Mr Auriol re-entered the cottage on their
return from the walk to Gardon. He and Nina stood for a moment in the
porch--they did not notice that Lettice was at an open window above,
whence she could clearly see them, and for a moment or two Godfrey stood
with Nina's hand in his, her fair face, in which was more colour than
usual, raised towards him.
"You may depend on me," she said softly, "to do all I can. There is
nothing--really nothing almost, that I wish so earnestly."
"I am sure of it," said Godfrey. "Perhaps, indeed," he added with a
little hesitation, "I understand more about what you feel than you
think. Not that I think you are selfish, dear Nina. I think you one of
the most unselfish people I ever knew, and,"--he hesitated still more
this time--"he will be a happy man who wins you."
Nina's face was crimson by now. But she stood by her cousin a moment
longer. He was leaving the next morning, and it might be her last
chance of seeing him alone.
"Then I am to do what I can, and, in a sort of way, to report progress.
You will come down again in two or three weeks?"
"Yes, and in the meantime I shall see Arthur;" and then he released her
hand and she ran upstairs to take off her hat.
"Have you had a nice walk, dear?" said Lettice, who was waiting in their
room.
"_Very_," said Nina heartily.
"I think you and Godfrey are getting to understand each other
wonderfully," lattice remarked.
"Yes?" said Nina, with a happy little laugh.
"I almost think so too;" and Lettice, observing the flush on her face,
congratulated herself on her generalship.
"She is evidently forgetting all about Philip Dexter," she thought.
"How pretty she looks! How nice it must be to be so sweet and
attractive; not hard, and cold, and repellent, like me. But it is
_forced_ on me."
And though she told herself things were going just as she wished, there
was a little sigh in her heart as she kissed her sister on their way
downstairs.