DON GIOVANNI.
'Towered cities please us then,
And the busy hum of men.
* * * * * * * * *
And ever against eating cares
Lap me in soft Lydian airs.
* * * * * * * * *
With wanton heed, and giddy cunning,
The melting voice through mazes running.'
_Milton._
The Monday brought business instead of sentiment. Not only was the
Pursuivant to be provided for, but Felix had on his mind the year's
accounts. No one had ever had Froggatt and Underwood's Christmas bill
later than the second week in January--and no one should. Besides,
he was very anxious to balance his books this critical year, and was
unwilling to employ a professional accountant for what, as far as head
went, he could do perfectly well. His willing helpers began to perceive
what they had never realized before--his practised power of quickness
and accuracy. The Pursuivant was quite work enough for Cherry, even if
she could have borne the strain of application to accounts; Lancelot
was needed in the shop; and Wilmet and Clement found themselves whirled
on beyond their power of speed. Robina proved the most efficient
helper; for arithmetic had been so well taught by Miss Fennimore,
that she understood with less trouble to herself and Felix than any
of the rest. They laughed to find that five had been about what he
usually did singly; and that he had all the time been the main-spring
of them all--referee to Lance and Cherry, arranging for the others
in pencil with his left hand, breaking off to direct one, verify for
another, explain to the third, and often distracting them by whistling
to Theodore, amusing Stella, or gossiping with Edgar--all with ease
and without hurry, as if it came naturally to him. 'Julius Caesar was
nothing to him!' laughed Geraldine, as she perceived the ability and
power that she had never ascribed to him before, because he had not
Edgar's brilliance. As to Edgar, though he had been trained for a
merchant's clerk, he professed to have forgotten all his training:
he would only proffer help to the editorial business, and there put
out Cherry's arrangements more than he helped her; and finding every
one much too busy to loiter, he took his departure early on Tuesday
morning, leaving an unsatisfactory sense that he had not been comforted
nor made welcome enough--a sense of regret and yet of relief.
The result of the balance was that the Pursuivant was a less profitable
investment than hitherto, but by no means a loss; while the Tribune
seemed to have reached a present level of circulation, where it
might rest till some further excitement. There would henceforth be
a hand-to-hand struggle; but the Pursuivant still held its own. And
as to the private budget, the household _had_ pulled through without
exceeding their income, when all the demands of the year were answered.
Moreover, Fulbert had been appointed to a well-paid office, and had
sent home twenty-five pounds, begging that Lance might have the
preference in the disposal; and the whole family were very proud of
this, the first substantial help that had been sent in by any of the
brothers--Lance proudest of all, perhaps, though he declared that it
was no good to him, and begged that it might clear Bernard's first year.
Lance had said nothing all this time of Edgar's invitations, and no
one was sure whether that unscrupulous person had made them to him in
person or not, till one dismal foggy afternoon at the end of the week.
Felix, though still helpless as to his hand and arm, had resumed his
place down-stairs; and Cherry was sitting in the window, to get light
to pursue her work of unpicking a dove-coloured French merino dress, a
legacy of Alda's, which was to be dyed and made up again for Angela. It
was a business that she disliked--it always seemed to bring the sense
of grinding to her mind--and this particular dress seemed to carry in
every fold the remembrance of some jar between the wearer and herself;
nor was she exhilarated by the accompaniment, for Robina was dutifully
puzzling out on the worn old piano a long difficult sonatina--a sort of
holiday task, which lay heavy on the child's mind, and seemed to Cherry
a mere labyrinth of confused sounds. The dull day, the dull work, and
weary clash up to the place where Robina never failed to stumble, and
then go back to the beginning with no better success, wore Cherry's
spirits. She began to feel as if this were like her life--all mist, all
toil, all din, everything fair and lovely closed up from her, nothing
left but the yearning knowledge that it existed, and that everybody
could enjoy it except herself--she, who felt such capacity for making
the most of it. The sense of imprisoned tedium grew so strong at last,
that she was ready to cry out to stop the only thing she could stop,
when she was sensible that a very different hand was on the keys--no
confused or uncertain touch, but the harmony was being read off, and
the stammering spelling work was exchanged for clear, true, feeling
discourse. She needed not to look round to know that Lance was standing
behind Robina; but presently he came to a dull discordant note, and
broke off with a growl of disgust, 'What, another gone!'
'Didn't you know that?'
'No; I can't bear to touch the wretched old thing, it makes me sick!'
'I wish we could learn to tune it.'
'Poulter did show me once, but it's no good. It is just as makeshift
and disgusting as all the rest of it!'
'You've got a head-ache, Lance.'
'No, I haven't. Felix has been at me, too.'
'What! he sent you up?'
'Ay;' and as Robina sat down on a low stool, he threw himself on the
floor, with his head on her lap, delivering himself of a howling yawn.
'Why did he send you up?' as she stroked his hair back from his temples.
'Oh, it has been an intolerable bother! All the samples of
writing-paper have somehow been and gone and got into the wrong
drawers, and Mr. Underwood has been in no end of a state of mind--quite
ferocious; and Lamb and I have been sorting and struggling to get 'em
right, till at last I didn't know fancy pink from widow's deepest
affliction; and Felix, by way of the most cutting thing he could do to
me, orders me up-stairs!'
'I am so sorry! It must have been Lamb's doing.'
'No: he's much too sober-sided. It was mine, I'm sure, one day when I
was hating it all a little worse than usual.'
'Hating it all! O Lance! I thought you got on so well!'
'A nice sort of getting on! I know when it was. There were those two
Miss Bayneses--out at Upham--came in with some fad about note-paper,
made a monstrous fuss; but they are very pretty--something like that
girl at Stoneborough. So I wrote up to Scott's--took no end of trouble.
Scott had to cut it on purpose--wouldn't do less than a ream--and after
all, when it came down, my young ladies just take one quire of it,
turn everything over again, never say one word of thanks, but stand
chattering away to an ape of a cousin that came in with them. I was in
such a wax, that I believe I jumbled up the paper when they'd gone,
and tumbled it all over again; and it has never got the better of it,
though I always meant to set it to rights.'
'Well, I think it served you right, if you only did it because they
were pretty!'
'It wasn't altogether that; but I knew they would say nothing was to be
had when Mr. Underwood wasn't there. That's the way of it; one's just a
bit of a machine for getting things!'
'You knew that before, when you took the work.'
'Yes; but somehow I did not know it would be so disgusting. I don't
suppose that girl at Stoneborough would look at me over the counter
now. No, and I don't know that she ought, either; only people might
have a civil "Thank you" to throw at one. I'm an ass, that's all! Only
one hates having no one to speak to!'
'It is different from the Harewoods.'
'Don't talk about that!'
'But, Lance, I thought you liked it all. You said you did when I came
home; and when Felix was laid up, you were everything, and did so well.
I thought you would have been pleased.'
'Yes; I saw the whole stupidity and botheration of the thing. It has
got to be work instead of play--I suppose that's it.'
'But, Lance, does it follow that you must go on with it all your life,
because you are helping Felix through this winter?'
'While the accounts look like this, I don't see how he is to pay a
stuck-up shopman. No, it is all stuff and nonsense! I didn't think
Edgar's talk would have upset me like this.'
'What? his talk about operas, and concerts, and pictures--?'
'And the spirit and the fun that are always going there. That must
be life! One's eyes and ears do seem given one for something there!
Do you know Bob, he wants me to come up and live with him, and get an
engagement as a pianist, and learn the violin?'
'O, Lance! but Felix and Wilmet would never consent!'
'No, and they didn't ought to. No, I could never,' and he spoke low,
but Cherry heard his clear voice distinctly, 'give the stage what was
taught me for that other purpose. If I can't be what I want, I must do
this common work for my living, and not make a market of my music. I
can _give_ that freely to the Church--that is if I ever get my voice
again.'
'That's right, dear Lancey,' said Robina, looking down at the face on
her knees; 'you could not really like that odd life Edgar leads.'
'Like it? Much you know about it, Bob. It does make everything else
seem as dull as ditch-water!'
'Not always.'
'Not when I can get it out of my head. Only I do wish things wouldn't
be so stupid here. It's just like a horse in a mill seeing a fine
thorough-bred come and kick up his heels at him in a meadow. I say,
Bob, let's go and get a turn at the organ--you can blow for me; it will
get the maggots out of my brain best.'
'Oh yes, dear Lance, only--'
'Only what?'
'If you didn't much mind those horrible notes, could you just show me
the sense of that thing? I must learn before I go back to school; and
Angel hates it so, I did it when she was out.'
Lance made an ineffable grimace; but having undertaken to act
music-master, he first played the piece as exquisitely as the cracked
piano would allow, and then scolded poor Robin within an inch of her
life at every blunder, for her utter lack of taste, vituperating the
stupidity of those who threw good music away upon her.
She took it all as an honour and a kindness, though she cried out
for a respite long before she had come up to his rather unreasonable
requirements; and reminding him that it would soon be too dark for his
designs on the church organ, she went to get ready; and the two were
not seen again till after dark, when the patient Robina came in very
cold, but there was a bright peacefulness on Lance's face, as if he had
played away his repinings.
Felix explained the having sent him away by saying that the strain of
the days when he had been in charge had told on him, for he had grown
so confused and distressed in the endeavour to remedy the mistakes that
had been made, that it had been needful for every reason to send him
away from the scene of action. No doubt the responsibility, and the
resistance to Edgar's invitations had been a considerable pressure on
his mind; but whatever his longings might be, he said no more about
them, and continued to be the sunshine of the house--so bright, frank,
and open that no one would have guessed at the deep reserves within.
It was about a month later that one evening he darted into the room,
exclaiming, 'I _say_, who do you think is here? Why, Renville, Edgar's
boss!'
'Nothing the matter, I hope?' cried Cherry.
'Oh no, nothing; only Tom Underwood has sent him down to see about some
picture at Centry, and so he dropped in, and Felix has asked him to
spend the evening.'
'The evening!' Wilmet started up.
'Hark! there they are on the stairs!'
The introduction was deferred, for Felix shut him into Mr. Froggatt's
room, and then came himself to say, 'I couldn't but ask him; I hope it
is not _very_ troublesome?'
'N--no--oh, no,' said Wilmet 'Only--Lance, should you mind just running
down to Prothero's to get some rashers; and let me see--eggs, if he has
any he can recommend, and not above sixpence for seven?'
'Little Lightfoot is there,' said Felix, who even in his shoe-cleaning
days would not have liked such a commission.
'He has no sense,' returned Wilmet; 'and I can't spare one of the
maids. You don't mind, Lance?'
'Not a whistle. Only how is my sense to act, if Prothero's conscience
won't warrant his eggs?'
Wilmet's answer was lost in the clank of coppers, as she left the room
with her willing _aide-de-camp_, and neither of them was seen again for
the next half hour, during which time Felix had introduced the neat
dapper little Mr. Renville to his sister Geraldine and little Stella;
and a conversation had begun which entertained Cherry extremely--it
was so like a breath from that wonderful world of art in which Edgar
lived; and meantime the painter's quick eye was evidently taking stock
of the drawings on the walls, and feasting on little Stella's childish
beauty, though he was too polite to make remarks. There had been only
just time for Felix and Cherry to look at each other, wondering what
their house-keeper designed, when the door between the rooms was opened
by Lance, with a face as red as a boiled lobster: and behind the
tea-tray appeared Wilmet's head, likewise considerable heightened in
complexion, though not so unbecomingly. Nor had they roasted themselves
for nothing. Lance looked and winked with conscious pride at the
poached eggs, frizzled contorted rashers, and crisp toast, wherein he
had had his share of glory; and Wilmet's pile of scones in their snowy
napkin divided the honours of the feast with the rissoles, previously
provided for the brothers, who since Felix's health had become matter
of thought, had come to make their principal meal in the leisure of the
evening, when that notable housewife of theirs could provide for them.
Certainly, Mr. Renville's own Nuremburg haus-frau could not have turned
out a neater little impromptu supper than Wilmet had done; though she
had decidedly objected to Lance's concealment of the uncouth forms of
the butter with fern-leaves from the garden, and had flatly refused to
let him station either a pot of jonquils or a glass of snowdrops in the
middle of the table. 'Eating, was eating, and flowers were flowers,'
she said; which sentiment somehow tickled Lance so much, that choking
added to the redness of his visage, as, while buttering the muffins, he
tried to exercise some sculpture on the ill-shaped lump.
To a Londoner, however, all country fare was fresh, pure, and
delicious, more especially when dispensed by one who, for all
her disdain of the poetry of life, could not but be in herself a
satisfaction to the artist's eye. He could not help a little start
of amazement; and as he paused while Cherry made her slow way into
the other room, he could not refrain from whispering to Felix that
he had always thought the portraits Edgar brought from home a little
too ideal, but that he perceived that they did not do justice to the
reality; and Felix, with a little curl of his mouth, and rub of his
hands, asked whether Mr. Renville had seen his other twin sister. 'Yes;
she was extremely handsome, but somehow her style did not explain that
classical beauty in the same manner.'
To look at Wilmet and Stella, and to talk to Felix and Geraldine, was
no despicable pleasure. Felix's powers of conversation were a good deal
cultivated by the clients of the reading-room, who had always gossiped
with Mr. Froggatt as now with him; and Geraldine had native wit and
liveliness, that were sure to flash out whenever the first chill of
shyness was taken off, as it easily was when her brother was there to
take the lead.
But Cherry was not prepared for that proposal of Felix's that she
should show her drawings to the guest. Poor man, he must be so much
used to the sight of young-lady drawings; and of late Cherry had been
in the depths of despair about hers, with all their defects, that
she knew not how to remedy, glaring full upon her. She would have
protested, but Lance had handed out the portfolio; and fluttering,
nervous, eager, she must conquer her silly sense of being 'all in a
twitter.'
Those two or three fanciful groups--his 'Ah, very pretty!' was just
courteous and almost weary. But then came an endeavour to produce
Lance as the faithful little acolyte in the Silver Store. Mr. Renville
looked at that much more attentively, smiled as he nodded at her
model, and praised the accuracy of the drawing of the hand. From that
moment his manner of looking was altogether different. He criticised
so hard that Wilmet was in pain, and thought poor Cherry would be
annihilated; but Cherry, on the other hand, was drinking in every word,
asking questions, explaining difficulties, and Mr. Renville evidently
extremely interested, seeing and hearing nothing but the sketches and
the lame girl.
'Who had been her teacher?'
'Edgar.'
'No one else? Only your brother?' in great surprise. 'I don't know when
I have seen such accuracy even in the school of art.'
'Edgar is so particular about that.'
'Well, if I could only get him to learn his own lesson!'
'I have so little to copy,' said Cherry. 'I have nothing to distract
me.'
It was little enough; a few second-hand studies of his; a cast that
Felix had given her off an Italian boy's board, which came opportunely
on her birthday; and her living models when she could catch them,
generally surreptitiously. But upon her small materials she had worked
perseveringly, going back to the same subject whenever she gained a
new light, profiting by every hint, till the result was an evident
amazement to the artist; and as he emphatically said, pointing to an
outline caught from John Harewood as he was reading last summer, 'This
is not talent, it is genius! You ought to give yourself advantages,
Miss Underwood.'
Cherry smiled rather sadly. 'It is quite enough that Edgar should have
them,' she said.
'Ah! if he would only take half the pains with his drawing that he
seems to have inculcated upon you!'
It was a disappointment. She had much rather have heard Edgar's genius
praised than her own, which, be it what it might, she had come to
believe must, for want of cultivation, be limited to the supply of
Christmas cards and unsatisfactory illuminations.
But when the sisters had gone to bed, Mr. Renville had much more to
say. He had sought Felix out a good deal for the purpose of talking
over Edgar, He said that the young man's talent was of a graceful,
fantastic, ingenious description, such as with application would be
available for prosperity if not for eminence; but application Edgar
had never perseveringly given, since he had first found himself
surpassed in the higher efforts of art. His powers were too versatile
for his own good, and he dabbled in everything that was _not_
his proper occupation--concerts, amateur theatricals, periodical
literature and journalism, comic sketches. His doings were not all
wholly unremunerative; but though he viewed them as mines of wealth,
they were really lures into a shifty uncertain life, and distractions
from steady consistent labour. His fine voice, his brilliant wit, and
engaging manner, made him a star in the lively society on the outskirts
of art; and he was expensive, careless, and irregular in his hours to
a degree that sorely tried the good man, a precisian in his domestic
customs. He and his little German wife, however, loved the lad, as
everybody did love him who came under the influence of his sunshiny
grace and sweetness of temper--the unselfish manner inherited from one
whose unselfishness was real; and used as they were to the freedom of
artist life, their allowances were liberal; but of late there had been
a recklessness and want of purpose about his ways which both grieved
and alarmed them: he was more unsettled than ever, seemed to have lost
all interest in his studies at the Academy, was getting into a set that
had degenerated from permissible eccentricity into something very like
lawlessness, and even while an undesirable inmate, had vexed his kind
friend and master by proposing to remove from under his roof, and set
up with a chosen comrade of his own.
Committed to his charge, as Edgar Underwood had been by the elder
brother, the kind little artist felt it his duty not to let him go
without an intimation to his family, though well aware that a father
could have little control in such a case, how much less a brother only
by two years the elder?
All that Felix could hope was, that since this state of dreary
recklessness was so evidently the effect of disappointment, it might
pass with the force of the shock. He himself had experiences of the
irksomeness of the dull round of ordinary occupation when the heart
was rent by a sudden shock; and though he had forced himself on under
the load that had so nearly crushed him, he could perfectly understand
the less chastened, more impetuous nature, under less pressure of
necessity, breaking into aberrations under a far more astounding blow
of desertion. So he hoped. But what could he do? He knew but too well
the cool manner in which Edgar turned over his remonstrances as those
of the would-be heavy father. He could only thank Mr. Renville, promise
to write to Edgar, and entreat him not to remove from the roof which
was so great a safeguard against the worst forms of temptation, advise
him perhaps to study abroad for a time to pacify the restlessness of
his disappointment--at any rate, if he could do nothing else, not let
the brother whom he still loved best of all drift away without feeling
that there were those who grieved and strove for him.
It was not only of Edgar that Mr. Renville spoke, however. He was
so much impressed with Geraldine's drawings, that he argued that
she should have a quarter's study in the South Kensington Museum,
undertaking, as one of the masters, to facilitate her coming and going,
so that she should not be involved in any scrambles, and declaring
that she only needed a few opportunities of study to render her talent
really excellent and profitable.
Felix declared her going to be simply impossible; but either Mr.
Renville or Edgar did not let the matter rest there, for a warm
invitation arrived from the family in Kensington Palace Gardens,
backed by many promises of tender care from Marilda. It seemed to
be absolutely throwing away opportunities for Cherry to refuse to
avail herself of such an opening; and though she was in exceeding
trepidation, she had enough of the sacred fire to long to perfect her
art, justified by the wish to render it substantially beneficial. And
then Felix could not help thinking that the presence of his favourite
sister might be a wholesome check to Edgar in one direction, and
incentive in another, at this critical time, and this was no small
weight in his balance. While Cherry, on the one hand, dreaded going
out into the world with the nervous dismay of an invalid, who had
never been anywhere but to St. Faith's; and on the other, felt this
opportunity for herself almost an injustice to Lance, with all his
yearnings.
She was to go immediately after Easter; and whether by Edgar's
suggestion or not, Marilda imperiously begged that Lance might bring
her up to London, and stay as long as he could be spared. It was
impossible to give him longer than from Saturday till the last train
on Monday, for Felix had reporting business on hand, and must be out
on Tuesday, and did not perhaps regret that things had so settled
themselves.
Lance's overflowing enjoyment somewhat solaced Geraldine's alarm on
the way up; he was so careful of her, and so proud of the charge; and
after his wistful glance at Minsterham, the novelty was so delightful
to him. His journey with John Harewood reckoned for nothing, for he had
then been far too unwell to look about, and it had besides been on a
different line; but now everything was wonderful, and his exclamations
almost embarrassed Cherry, she thought they must so astonish their
fellow-travellers. Even the hideousness of the suburbs seemed to
fascinate him--there was something in the sense of the multitude that
filled him with excitement. 'It is getting to the heart, Cherry,' he
said, 'where the circulation is quickest.'
'Into the world--the vortex, I should call it,' returned Cherry
thinking of drops being attracted by the eddy, and sucked into the
whirlpool; but Lance was gone wild at the glimpse of a huge gasometer,
and did not heed.
Edgar's dainty beard and moustache were the first things that met their
eyes upon the platform; his strong arms helped Cherry out, and in a
wonderfully short time seated her beside Alda in a great luxurious
carriage.
To her disappointment, however, the two back seats remained vacant.
'No, no,' said Edgar, his white teeth gleaming in a smile; 'we must
make the most of our time, Lancey boy. What do you say to walking by
Westminster--then we'll get something to eat--and you shall know what
Don Giovanni is like before you are many hours older, my boy?'
Cherry's last view of Lance was with a look of dancing ecstasy all over
his person.
'Don Giovanni is the opera, isn't it?' she said in bewilderment.
'Of course; what did you think?'
'But I thought that was dreadfully dear.'
'Oh! Edgar can always get tickets for anything. You must not bring out
Wilmet's frugalities here, Cherry. Dear old Wilmet, how does she bear
this long waiting?'
Alda was really interested in home tidings, and pleased to point out
matters of interest, so that Cherry was fairly happy, till the awe of
the great handsome house, alone in its gravelled garden, fell on her.
But when once up the stately stone steps, she was kindly, solicitously,
welcomed by Marilda and her mother. The reception-rooms (as Mrs.
Underwood called them) were all on the ground floor; and Cherry had
only to mount one easy flight of broad steps to reach the former
school-room, with two little bed-rooms opening into it--one assigned to
her, the other to Marilda's old nurse, who had been kept on with little
or nothing to do, and was delighted to devote herself to the lame young
lady.
She took charge of Geraldine's toilette for the late dinner, so
tremendous to the imagination used to the little back-room at home,
but which turned out after all more tedious than formidable. In truth,
Cherry was very tired, and Alda quite kindly advised her to go to bed.
She wanted to sit up and wait for her brothers, but was laughed at, and
finally was deposited in her very pretty pink bed, where, however, the
strangeness of all things allowed her very little sleep. Quiet as the
place was, she thought something seemed to be going on all night; and
at some semi-light hour in the morning she bounded up as if at a shot,
for there really was a step, and a knock, and her door opening.
'Cherry, are you awake?'
'O Lance! what is the matter?'
'Matter! nothing--only I'm going out to look about me, and I thought
I'd leave word with you and see how you were.'
'Out! Why, didn't I hear the clock strike five?'
'Ay. Have you been awake?'
'A good deal. Have you?'
'As if anybody could sleep after that! I've gone it all over and over.
I see there's a piano in this outer room. I'll just show you.'
'O Lance!--_now_--and Sunday!'
'I forgot. But it is so awful, Cherry: it made one feel more than a
hundred sermons;' and the far-away look came into his eyes; as in
rapid words he sketched the story, described the scenes, dwelt with
passionate fervour on the music, all with an intensity of feeling
resulting in a great sense of awe. His excitement seemed to her so
great that she begged him to go back to bed for the hours that yet
remained before breakfast.
'I couldn't, I tell you, Cherry.'
'But you'll have _such_ a head-ache.'
'Time enough for that when I get home. I don't know what to do with
myself, I tell you; I must get into a church somewhere, or I can't bear
it.'
'You'll lose your way.'
'I've got the map of London. If I can I shall get to St. Matthew's; and
so I thought I had better tell you, in case I wasn't back to breakfast.
Edgar showed me your room.'
'Is Edgar sleeping here?'
'No; he went to Renville's when he'd put me in. I'll be back anyway by
the time Robin and Angel come, but I can't stay quiet. Nobody ever gave
me any notion what this place is. It makes one feel I don't know how,
only just to see the people--streaming, streaming, streaming, just like
a river! And then that wonderful--most wonderful music!'
The boy was gone, and Cherry felt as if his fate were sealed--the drop
gone to join the other drops, and to swirl away!
Edgar was rather amazed and disconcerted, when on coming in about ten
o'clock he found that he had vanished. He had meant to take him to any
ecclesiastical wonder that he wished; but he laughed at Cherry's fears
of the boy losing himself. 'He is a born gamin,' he said--'takes to
London streets as a native element. But Felix is right, he must not
have too much of it. I was heartily glad when it was over last night,
and durst not keep him for the ballet, though I much wanted to see what
he would say to it; but he was worked up to such a pitch I didn't know
what would come next, and I'm sure his remarks taught me more about Don
Giovanni than ever I saw before. He was in such a state when he came
out that I hardly knew what to do with him. I should have given him
a glass of ale but he wouldn't hear of that, so I could only let him
have his will--a great cup of coffee--and send him to bed. I knew he
wouldn't sleep.'
Lance _did_ appear at the moment of luncheon, when Robina and
Angela arrived to spend the rest of the day. He had not reached St
Matthew's; but he had found a church open early for a grand choral
Celebration, and this not being customary at Minsterham, had been
almost overwhelming to a nature like his. It had lasted so long, that
the bell rang for matins before the congregation had left the church;
and Lance had stayed on, and heard a service far exceeding in warmth
and splendour that of his sober old cathedral, and such a soul-stirring
sermon as was utterly unlike the steady-going discourses of his canons.
He had never even missed his breakfast, and yet seemed not to care
for the meal before him, though he ate what was put on his plate; and
he had that look of being all brow, eyes, and nose, that had often
recurred ever since his illness; but he would not allow that he was
tired; and so far from being able to sit still, wanted his little
sisters to walk with him in Kensington Gardens, and Robina being a
discreet person, and knowing her way, there was no reason against
this; and off they went, all three supremely happy, and Cherry
feeling a certain hopefulness that Robina's steady good sense would
be a counterpoise to other influences and excitements. But Lance had
not come to any state for sober sense. Under the trees of Kensington
Gardens, the influence of the brilliant spring beauty, and the gay
cheerful vivacity of the holiday crowd, still acted on his eager
self; and he used his sisters as audience for all his impressions as
to Don Giovanni, till he had driven Angela almost as wild as himself
with his vivid descriptions--and to be sure, he treated it as a sort
of religious exercise. Indeed, the sensation he seemed chiefly to
have carried off with him, was that London had been maligned; he had
always supposed it to be a Vanity Fair, where one's religion would
be in extreme peril; and behold, he had found religion there like
everything else--more quickening, more inspiriting, more exquisitely
beautiful and satisfying in its ministrations, than anything that he
could have conceived! Nor did the late Evening Service with which his
day finished--with all its accessories of light and music, and another
sermon from a celebrated preacher--lessen this impression, which made
St Oswald's by comparison so utterly flat, dead, and unprofitable.
Robina could not help saying to Cherry, with that old-womanish air of
wisdom that belonged to her sometimes, 'I do wish we hadn't taken Lance
to such a nice church. He knows less what London really is now than he
did before.'
Dear little Robin! as if she knew what London _really_ was! And Cherry
was too anxious an elder sister to give her much comfort, except by
saying, 'It is fair that he should know the truth of what is to be
found there, Bobbie. You see he is only getting good out of it in his
own mind.'
'Yes, that's true; only he will make himself ill.'
This had come to be Edgar's fear as well as Cherry's, when they found
that Lance had slept quite as little the second night as the first,
though he brought down those great lustrous blue eyes of his quite as
wide open and full of zest in the morning. It made Edgar cautious in
his choice of sights for the Monday; but one so long habituated to
London, and regarding with contempt its stock lions, could not estimate
what they were to a lad at once so susceptible and so unsophisticated,
and his diversion at Lance's raptures passed into anxiety, not
unmingled with tedium, and almost disdain, at anything so very
countrified; but his real care and good nature never flagged till he
had safely, and to his positive relief, seen his little brother off for
Bexley by the five o'clock train, to work off his intoxication at home,
among his proper guardians.
'I am sure,' he said to Geraldine, 'if I had had any notion that his
brain had continued so ticklish, I would never have had him on my
hands. The difference between lionizing him and old Blunderbore! why
it was--not exactly fire and water, but Ariel and Gonzalo. Shut the
two up in the same shop! It is ridiculous! No, no, Lance must vegetate
down there till his brains have cooled down from that unlucky stroke;
but after that, you'll see, nothing will keep him down in Felix's hole;
'tisn't in the nature of things that he should be buried there. I've
given him the violin I got at Liège, so he won't be quite wasting his
time.'
There was rest--at least, for the present--in Edgar's acquiescence in
Lance's vegetation, except so far as it gave food for present anxiety,
by showing how the boy's excitability had alarmed him; and Cherry
anxiously watched for reports from home. Felix and she herself were
the chief letter-writers in the family, and he kept her daily supplied
with tidings. His first account--written at intervals at the reporter's
table at Minsterham--bore that Lance had come all right, and seemed to
have enjoyed himself much. So he had kept up for one day; but on the
third came the inevitable tidings, 'Poor Lance is in bed, with headache
in its worst shape. Wilmet has been obliged to stay at home to attend
to him. It must have been coming on yesterday, for he seems to have
talked more than enough, and made more blunders than can be remedied in
a day. I suppose Edgar would have laughed if I had cautioned him; but
I would about as soon have put the boy to stand on the Equator as have
taken him to that opera.'
The days of pleasure seemed to have a heavy price; it was not till
Saturday that Felix reported Lance as in his place as usual, but still
looking ill, quiet, and subdued. 'I am afraid,' proceeded the letter,
'that it has been a very fascinating glimpse he has had of Edgar's
way of life, and that F. and U.'s house is more against the grain to
him. I doubt whether it be suited to him; but the other course seems
over-perilous. I wonder whether fathers have the power of insight and
judgment that I need so much. However, for the present, health speaks
plainly that home is the only place for him; and I can with a free
conscience enjoy his bright face and service of good will. To have you
and him both out of the way _was_ severe; but if it were not for his
good, it is for yours.'
Yes, Geraldine trusted it was for her good. When Thomas Underwood went
to the City in the morning she was always set down at the Renvilles',
whence the transit to the Museum was so short, that she could make it
either with her brother's arm or the master's. It was not thought fit
for her to work all day, so Mrs. Sturt (the old nurse) always came to
meet and take her home to luncheon; after which she either went out
with Mrs. Underwood and Marilda, or was carried about by her brother,
in which case her conveyance was always defrayed at the door with so
little knowledge on her part, that Edgar accused her of supposing
Cousin Thomas to keep innumerable very seedy equipages always in
waiting on her steps.
It was great enjoyment--real instruction of the best sort in that
which was most congenial to her, putting the crown on her long lonely
perseverance, and giving a daily sense of progress and achievement,
was delightful. She had no notion of rivalry; but when she perceived
that she was excelling, that commendation almost always attended her
attempts, and that in any competition she always came near the mark
and was sometimes foremost, she was conscious of a startling sense of
triumph; and Edgar was full of exultation. If his own studies at the
Royal Academy had been fulfilling all his golden dreams, he could not
have been half so uplifted as he was by Cherry's chances of a medal;
while, if he had only acted on a quarter of the sensible advice he gave
her, he would already have been far advanced in his profession.
If he had been imprudent in Lancelot's case, he showed much tender
good judgment in his selection on Cherry's behalf of exhibitions and
rehearsals--never overdoing her, and using all his grace and dexterity
to obviate her fatigue and prevent embarrassments from her lameness,
till she began to take courage and feel at ease.
Alda never went with them. She said Cherry's pace would be the death
of her, and she knew it all by heart. Yet, go where they would,
there generally appeared, soon after four o'clock, a tall, handsome,
black-moustached figure, seldom uttering more than 'Good-morning!' and
'All well at home?' and then content to stalk beside them, perfectly
indifferent to their object, but always ready to give an arm to Cherry,
or to find a cab.
'Dogged by Montezuma's ghost!' Edgar would mutter when the inevitable
black head came towering into view; and even Cherry sometimes felt
the silent haunting rather a bore. Edgar and Ferdinand were both good
company alone, but together she knew not what to do with them; since
her sole common subject of interest to Ferdinand, church details,
provoked Edgar's sarcasm; and though Edgar had enough to say on a
thousand other points, Fernan was totally silent on all, except horses,
of which on her side she knew nothing. Nevertheless, for very pity, he
was always allowed to know their designs; and Cherry delivered messages
between him and Alda, and marvelled at her never finding it possible to
avail herself of such chances of meeting.
Indeed, it puzzled Cherry why Ferdinand should be banished from the
house, since Marilda took pains to mark her friendly feeling towards
him as Alda's betrothed; and the resentment of her parents appeared
to be inactive; but Alda declared that any advance on his side would
provoke great wrath, and that open intercourse was impossible; and it
could only be supposed that she was the best judge.
However, to Cherry herself, Alda was far kinder than at home--perhaps
because her own ground was too secure to leave room for jealousy; and
she viewed her sister as guest rather than rival. During the first
shyness and awe, she was a kind helper, full of tact, which parried the
rather obtrusive patronage of her so-called aunt; she provided books,
quietly ameliorated matters of dress, and threw in judicious hints
and encouragements, so that Cherry's warm heart beat gratefully, and
she thought she had never known how nice Alda could be in her proper
element.
As to Marilda, she was thoroughly good-natured, perhaps rather teasing,
and tyrannical as to what she thought for Cherry's good, and very
careful that she should not be neglected; but there did not seem to
be much in common between them, they never could get on in a _tête à
tête_; and Cherry, who had heard vast statements from her brothers
about Marilda's original forms of goodness, was disappointed to find
her life so entirely that of a common-place young lady. She was clumsy,
over-dressed, and of a coarse complexion; and though she sometimes said
odd things, they were remarkable not for wit but for frankness. It
seemed as though the world had been too much for Marilda's better self,
and as if she were becoming the purse-proud heiress who fancied wealth
could atone for want of refinement or of delicacy towards people's
feelings.
It was with the master of the house that Cherry got on best. At first
he treated her like a frail china cup that a touch might break, but
gradually he discovered in her resemblances to all manner of past
Underwoods, talked to her about her parents in their youth, expressed
endless wonder how 'that lad Felix made it out,' and by-and-by
found that a few questions about the day's doings would draw forth
a delightfully fresh, simple, and amusing narrative, given with
animated lips, and eyes that charmed him. He became very fond of little
Geraldine, and accepted her as his special evening companion when his
wife took the other two girls into society. She could talk, read the
paper, or play at cribbage; and was so much pleased to be of use, that
she became as much at ease and therefore as amusing as with old Froggy
himself.
She had been assured of exemption from parties, but she found that the
sumptuous luncheon was a popular institution, and that radiant ladies,
lounging men, riding parties brought home by Alda, and stout matrons on
a cruise of morning calls, were always dropping in. It was diverting
to sit quietly by and listen to the characteristic confidences of the
city dames, to the dashing nonsense of the girls, and the languid
affectations of the young men; and capital material was furnished for
the long letters that amused the breakfast-table at home--journals,
half full of beautiful description, half full of fun and drollery.
Those gay dames and demoiselles little thought what a pair of keen grey
eyes were watching them, as they passed, almost unheeded, the little
sober-hued person whom they never fairly understood to be the sister of
the beautiful Alda.
Of the school establishment at Brompton Cherry saw something. She was
invited to drink tea there, for the sake of talking over Angela;
the two heads of the establishment being very glad to get an elder
sister to discuss that puzzling personage with. Of Robina, since the
catastrophe eighteen months ago, they had nothing but good to say; she
had really lived it down, so far as to have proved that if she had
erred, it was only in judgment; but with Angela they still knew not
what to do.
She had come back subdued and with better impulses, and these had
carried her on up to Easter, giving such satisfaction to the Vicar,
that he had sanctioned her Confirmation; but immediately after the
holidays, the wild spirit had broken out again. She neither learnt nor
tried to learn, attended to nothing but music, and showed up exercises
and dictation flagrantly ill-spelt, and not unfrequently making fun
of the whole subject. As a reward for her weeks of propriety, she had
been promoted to the German class; but she had openly declared that
she hated German, and saw no use in it, and she would not attempt
anything but an occasional caricature of pronunciation. Everybody
liked her--even those whom she most disrespectfully provoked; and
she was like a kind of tame monkey to the school, turning her very
punishments into absurdity. She would lighten solitary confinement
by fantastically decorating the chairs and tables. If shut up in the
dark, her clear shrill voice would convulse all the household with
Lance's whole repertory of comic songs, the favourite being Thackeray's
'Little Billee,' which she always sang as if she expected to be rescued
by the sight of 'Admiral Nelson, K.C.B.,' if not made 'Captain of
a Seventy-three!' and even impositions she always managed to make
ludicrous, by comments, translations, or illustrations, bringing them
up with a certain irresistible innocence and simplicity of countenance.
What was to be done? No, they did not want her to be taken away;
she was a bright dear girl, with a great deal of good in her--very
warm-hearted, and certainly devout; and Miss Fennimore confessed that
she should be very sorry to part with her, or to confess herself beaten
in the struggle. 'Your name is Geraldine?' she asked, suddenly; 'are
you Irish?'
'My grandmother was.'
'That accounts for it!'
'She must have absorbed all the Irish nature in the family, then,' said
Cherry, laughing.
'Perhaps. But it throws a light on it. I don't know which is the most
curious subject, national or family character.'
Of course Cherry was set to talk to Angela--an operation that she hated
almost as much as Felix did; and the result of which attempt was this,
'Now don't--don't, Cherry!'--hugging her round the neck; 'you never
were made for scolding, and it is no use spoiling your own pleasure and
mine! Leave it to Wilmet; she does it with dignity, you know!'
'But, Angel, I do really want to understand why you are so set against
German?'
'It's a nasty crack-jaw language, that all the infidels write their
books in.'
'I only wish they did!' murmured Cherry.
'And it's the Protestant language, too; and that's _worse_,' persisted
Angela. 'No, I won't learn it on principle.'
'I thought principle was to do what one was told.'
'That depends. Now, German will never be of use to me; I'm not going to
be a governess, and I sha'n't qualify myself for it!'
'Yes, Angel, I know what you mean; but isn't obedience the
qualification you must learn--if you are to come to the other thing?'
'I shall learn it fast enough when the time comes. Don't you know,
Cherry, a republic is much better preparation for despotism than one of
your shilly-shally rational limited monarchies?'
'That may be true,' said Cherry; 'but you know I think the rational
loyalty the most wholesome training.'
'Yes, I know. Family life suits you; but I must have the--the real
religious life or none. I don't like secularity.'
'O Angel, you are much worse with these fine words that deceive you,
when you are really and truly only a naughty idle child!'
'That's true, Cherry; and yet it is not true,' said Angela,
thoughtfully. 'I am a naughty idle child, and yet I am more.'
'How is it--after this Confirmation and all?'
'Ah!' said Angel, frankly. 'I thought it would have done me good and
made me different; but instead there's just one anticipation gone, and
nothing to look to.'
'Not your own possible future?' (Cherry knew of it, though not Wilmet.)
'That's such a dreadful way off! No, if you all _will_ keep me in the
world, I must have my fun! Come, Cherry, don't look so horribly vexed!
I'll tell you what, if you'll cheer up, I won't have another flare-up
with old Fen as long as you are here to be bullied about it!'
And she kept her word so faithfully, that the two ladies thought
that charming little elder sister had had a great effect upon their
troublesome charge.