"Wondrous it is to see in diverse mindes
How diversely Love doth his pageant play,
And shows his power in variable kindes."
Spenser.
The days went on. It was nearly a fortnight past the New Year, and
nothing of moment had happened. Arthur's letter, written on Christmas
Day, had been duly received, but it, any more than its predecessors,
gave no clue to his present quarters. But to his sisters--to Nina
especially--there was a softer tone in it; it was less bitter and yet
less morbid. He wrote of his intense wish to see them, of his _hope_
that he had acted rightly, of his earnest trust that some day they
would, Lettice above all, learn to think of him as no longer one to be
ashamed of, as a poor miserable failure. In all this there was comfort
to Nina, but not to Lettice.
"I am sure, I can see he is getting into a healthier state of mind,"
said the younger sister eagerly. "If we could but write to him and tell
him all we feel, I am sure he would come back, and we should all be
happy again."
But Lettice shook her head.
"It is I," she said. "It is always I. Don't you see, Nina? It is I
that he is afraid of. But for me I dare say he would come back; but for
me he would never have gone away."
Godfrey Auriol had not yet returned. All this time Mr Morison was
looking forward to his coming back as to a sort of goal.
"He is so quick-witted and alert," he said to Nina, for to Lettice he
seldom spoke of his fellow-guardian--it was easy to see that the mention
of his name always was met by her with shrinking and reluctance. "He is
so energetic and clever, and he knows Arthur personally. I cannot help
thinking that when he returns he will suggest something. Hitherto
certainly everything has lamentably failed!"
For Mr Winthrop and Philip had been to Liverpool, had seen Mr Simcox,
who could only assure them that no one in the least answering to the
description of Arthur, or "the gentleman tramp," had applied to him, and
that he had never received the letter of introduction; they had
inquired, so far as they dared without transgressing Mr Morison's
injunctions of privacy, in every part of the town, but without any
result. There was even, after all, some amount of uncertainty as to
whether the young man who had been so kindly received at the rectory
_had_ been Arthur Morison; though whether he were, or were not, Mr
Winthrop was equally at a loss to explain his never having made use of
the introduction he had so thankfully received.
"I wonder Philip has not come back to town, when he knows we are all
here together," said Mrs Morison one evening. "I never knew him stay
so long at the Winthrops' before."
"There may be some attraction," said Mr Morison. "You forget, my dear
Gertrude, that your niece Daisy is seventeen now, and she bade fair to
be a very pretty girl."
Nina was sitting at the piano. She had been playing, and had turned
half carelessly on the stool, to join in the conversation going on.
Suddenly she wheeled round and began playing again, more loudly and
energetically than was her wont. Lettice, on her side, who was helping
her aunt to pour out the tea, grew so pale that Mrs Morison was on the
point of asking her what was the matter, when a slight warning touch of
the girl's hand on her arm restrained her.
"I must warn Ingram," thought Mrs Morison, some vague remembrance
returning to her of having heard or been told by some one of her nephew
Philip's having greatly admired one of her husband's nieces. Lettice or
Nina, which was it? Oh, Nina it must have been, that time she was
staying with the Curries near Philip's home. And she stole a glance of
sympathy at the girl at the piano, who continued to play, more softly
now and with an undertone of sadness in her touch which seemed to appeal
to her aunt's kind heart.
"Poor little thing," she thought. "But if there _is_ anything in it, it
will not be difficult to put it right."
She turned to look for Lettice, with some vague idea of seeking her
confidence on the subject. Lettice was sitting quietly at a little
distance, with a book open before her. Mrs Morison was crossing the
room to sit down beside her, when a ring at the bell made them all
start. Not that rings at the bell are so uncommon an occurrence in a
London house, but it was getting late, no visitor was expected, and the
ring had a decided and slightly authoritative sound.
"It is like Auriol's ring," said Mr Morison; and the words were
scarcely out of his mouth when the door was thrown open, and Mr Auriol
was announced.
Every one jumped up. For a few minutes there was a bustle of surprise
and welcome, questions asked and answered, so that Lettice's quiet
greeting passed among the rest, without any one specially remarking it.
She was inexpressibly thankful when it was over, and in her heart
grateful to Godfrey for making this first meeting under the so strangely
altered circumstances pass so easily.
"I have only just got back," he said when the hubbub had subsided, and
Mrs Morrison had rung for fresh tea. "I came on here as soon as I had
changed my clothes. I have been travelling all day. That last place
where I was at is so frightfully out of the way, but I stayed a night at
the Winthrops'."
He spoke faster than usual, and it was not difficult for any one used to
him to detect some underlying excitement Lettice, at least, did so, and
sympathised in it, as for the first time it struck her that this meeting
was for him, too, difficult and trying. She said nothing, but when her
aunt exclaimed, "Travelling all to-day? Dear me! You must be tired,"
she murmured gently, "Yes, indeed;" and Godfrey caught her words, faint
as they were, and looked pleased.
"I was so anxious to hear if--if you had heard anything more," he said;
and though he did not name Arthur, every one knew that was what he
meant.
"Nothing more," said Mr Morison, for the last letter, bearing date now
nearly a fortnight ago, had been communicated to Mr Auriol. "I must
have a long talk with you about it all, Auriol. I think it is about
time to be doing something more energetic, and yet we have all agreed in
feeling very reluctant to making any `to-do' that could possibly be
avoided."
"Oh yes," said Nina fervently, clasping her hands.