DON OR MYNHEER?
'Hear the truth--
A lame girl's truth, whom no one ever praised
For being patient.'
_George Eliot._
One morning, after a private interview with Alda, Mr. Underwood entered
the drawing-room, hilariously announcing that Alda was a lucky girl
this time, for now she had a man in no fear of his relations.
Geraldine was glad of the need of getting into the carriage directly,
and that her transit to Mr. Renville's was too brief for any answer to
be needed to her companion's warm satisfaction. Affairs of this sort
had come so thickly upon the family in the course of the last eighteen
months, that she did not feel the excitement of novelty; and she wished
so little to dwell on the present, that at the museum, the absorbing
interest of her life-study drove out the immediate recollection of the
stranger life-study she had left.
There could be no question as to the veritable cause of Alda's conduct
to Ferdinand; but Cherry was too much ashamed of it to rejoice in her
own justification, scarcely even hoping that Marilda would perceive it.
Most likely Alda would have preferred staving off the crisis a little
longer--at least till those keen eyes were out of sight--but she had
now to do with a man whose will it was not easy to parry, and whom
delay and coyness might have driven off altogether. Cherry did not see
her till they met at luncheon; and there was Sir Adrian, who promoted
the little lame girl to a shake of the hand. Alda looked gracious and
unusually handsome, being, in fact, relieved from a state of fretting
uneasiness; Mrs. Underwood was beaming with triumph; Marilda--again
there is no word for it but--glum!
There was a rose show at the Botanic Gardens; but Cherry had declined
it, and Marilda immovably refused to go. After they had seen the other
two ladies set off, resplendent under Sir Adrian's escort, Marilda
announced her intention of driving, as she often did, to the City, to
fetch her father home, and, more cordially than of late, offered a seat
to Cherry, if she did not mind waiting.
The City to Cherry's ears meant Ferdinand, whom she would not face for
worlds; but she told herself that it was not like Bexley, where every
one who went to the bank was sure to be presently seen at Froggatt's,
and she would not reject this advance from her cousin.
Indeed, Marilda wanted to talk, and freely told all she had been
hearing. The baronetcy was in the third generation, having been
conferred on the original transmuter, a Lord Mayor, with whom his son
had toiled for the larger half of his days, and comparatively late
had bought an estate, and married a lady of quality. He had not long
survived, and his widow had remarried. Of her nothing more was known;
but her son was so entirely his own master, that her opposition was not
likely to be dangerous. Sir Adrian had the reputation of great wealth;
and though he partook of the usual amusements of young men, there was
no reason to suppose that he did so to an extent that he could not
afford. Altogether, it was a brilliant conquest; but 'How one does hate
it all!' concluded Marilda.
This was all the amends Cherry received for the reproach that had so
keenly wounded her. Probably Marilda had really dismissed the charge;
but hers was not a fine-grained mind, used to self-examination or
analysis; and she acted on a momentary impression, without much regard
to the past or to consistency. Her affections were deep and strong;
but partly from circumstances they were like those of a dog, depending
rather on contact than esteem. She had accepted Edgar and Alda as
brother and sister, and whatever they did, stood by them with all her
might; nor did she ever so much as realize that Alda had been wrong,
and she herself misled. She would rather believe it the way of the
world, and part of the nature of things, than open her mind to blame
Alda.
Besides, the sense of not understanding Cherry, and the recollection
of the effect produced on her by words apparently quite inadequate,
the seeing her power of talking to and amusing gentlemen with whom she
herself had not an idea in common, Edgar's tender fervent pride in her,
and Alda's half-contemptuous acknowledgment of her ability--all this
contributed to give Marilda a certain shyness, awe, and constraint,
that sometimes looked cold, and sometimes cross, and puzzled Cherry,
who never dreamt of being formidable.
When they reached the house of business, Marilda went to her father's
room, for since his illness she often helped him to wind up his
correspondence; and Cherry sat in the carriage, her attention divided
between a book and the busy traffic of the street.
Presently she saw a tall lean figure in black, with a deeply-cut sallow
face set in grey whiskers. She knew it for the Vicar of St Matthew's;
and he, after bowing and passing, turned, and coming to the window,
said, 'Will you kindly tell me the right address to Mr. Audley, in
Australia? Clement left it with me, but I have mislaid it.'
'The Rev. C.S. Audley, Carrigaboola, Albertstown, West Australia.'
And as he repeated it with thanks, she could not restrain herself from
stretching out a hand in entreaty, and saying, 'Oh! pray, pray tell me!
How is he? Mr. Travis?'
'Your eldest brother's letter has done him a great deal of good.'
'Please tell me about him,' implored Cherry, colouring. 'We have known
him for so long before. How does he bear it?'
Mr. Fulmort let himself into the carriage, and sat down by her, saying,
'He is bearing it as you could most wish.'
'I longed to know. I feared it would be very terrible. His is not an
English nature.'
'It has been a great struggle. That first night he never went home
at all, but wandered about till daylight. I found him at five in the
morning, sunk down on his knees in our porch, with his head against the
church door, in a sort of exhausted doze.'
'Oh, well that he knew the way!' sighed Cherry. 'No one ever was so
cruelly treated!' she added with frowning vehemence. 'And then?'
'I took him to my rooms, and made him rest, and I went to Brown's and
excused his non-attendance. By the time he went to your sister he had
quite mastered himself.'
'He must. She never told about it; but we are sure she was quite
overawed.'
'He came back quite calm, with a certain air of secresy, and has
gone on with a sort of stern quietness ever since,' said the Vicar,
lowering his voice. 'Only on Sunday--he is one of our collectors at
the Offertory--he brought up his alms-bag bursting with bracelets and
rings, and things of that sort.'
'Poor Fernan! how like him to do it in that way!'
'I think it relieved him. He is perfectly free of bitterness towards
your sister--allows no flaw in her; but he is striving hard not to
retain animosity against your uncle.'
'It is deserved by no one but her!' exclaimed Cherry; 'and there's
worse to come. I don't know whether I ought to mention it; but it will
be better for it to come to him from you.'
'_It_ is true, then?' said Mr. Fulmort, understanding her directly. 'My
sister told me it was reported.'
'It was only settled yesterday evening. I am afraid _this_ is worse for
him than if it had been any one else.'
'So am I. It seems to be the crisis of a long emulation. I begged
Aston--my brother-in-law--to ascertain what was thought about it in the
corps; and he said that though poor Travis had never got on well with
the other men, there was a general feeling that he was not handsomely
treated.'
'That wretched man betted--'
Mr. Fulmort kindly but decidedly checked her. 'You had better not
dwell on such reports. Things for which we are not responsible must be
made the best of when they bring us new connections. Our friend is not
unprepared, and I will take care he does not hear this casually.'
'Thank you--oh! thank you! Give him my--' she caught herself up
and blushed--'my very best remembrances; and tell him,' she added,
carried away in spite of herself, 'that he must always be like one of
ourselves.'
'It will be a great comfort to him. Nothing can exceed his affection
and gratitude to your family--indeed he said, with tears in his eyes,
that to your brothers he "owes his very self also." I hope nothing will
disturb that friendship.'
'What will he do? Set about some great work somewhere?'
Mr. Fulmort smiled sadly. 'It is not safe to rush into great works to
allay disappointment,' he said. 'I think he is wiser to keep steadily
to his occupation, at least for the present; but he is giving his whole
leisure to his district and the evening classes. I am glad to have met
you. Good-bye.'
It was lucky that Cherry had plenty of time to subside before the
return of Marilda and her father. The latter was much exalted by the
explanation he had had with Sir Adrian and his man of business. The
rent-roll was all that could be desired, and so were the proposed
settlements; nor was there any fear on the score of the family. The
lawyer privately told Mr. Underwood that the mother, Lady Mary Murray,
was a most gentle lady, without a spark of pride, and very anxious to
see her son married.
Nor did her letter belie this assurance. She expressed gladness that
her son's choice should be a clergyman's daughter, and warmly invited
Alda to come and visit her at the Rectory, and make herself at home
among the new brothers and sisters there.
It was gathered--partly from Sir Adrian, partly from gossip--that
Lady Mary, a scantily-portioned maiden, had been too timid and docile
to withstand the parental will, which devoted her to the wealthy old
baronet; but in her widowhood she had followed the inclination that
had been pooh-poohed by her family in her girlhood. As a country
clergyman's wife, her homely quiet existence had less and less
influence over her son; and there was no danger of Alda finding in
her an imperious mother-in-law, though, except as a connecting link,
she would be valueless as an introduction. She was absolutely foolish
enough to be romantically delighted at her son's marrying for love;
and Geraldine fell in love with her on the spot, on reading her
letter--one of the very few which Alda showed, for in general she kept
her correspondence to herself. She avoided Cherry, and only talked to
Marilda of externals.
Nothing was to be definitively arranged till Felix had come to London,
and given his approval to the draught of the settlements, of which he
and Mr. Murray were to be trustees. He was so much grieved and ashamed,
that much urging from Wilmet was needed to convince him that he ought
not to leave the whole to Tom Underwood; but as a counterpoise there
was Cherry to see--and oh! joy of joys! to fetch home. So he consented
to go up on a Saturday afternoon, and return on Tuesday; and thus
it was, that one evening in July Cherry was gathered into his arms,
murmuring 'Felicissimo mio, what an age it is since I have had you!'
Good-natured Mrs. Underwood had made it a family party, including
Robina and Angela, the worthy dame having little notion how slightly
they appreciated the honour, nor how curiosity, and love of Felix and
a holiday, contended with very tumultuous and angry sensations. That
Alda had never taken the smallest notice of Angela's confession, did
not render her cold kiss the pleasanter, nor the circle less awful as
the party sat round, awaiting the arrival of Sir Adrian. There they
were, nine uncomfortable people, sitting on gilded blue damask chairs,
too few and too far apart for a comfortable whisper; the two youngest
very conscious of their best white frocks; the two eldest--the one in
a flurry of anxiety and suspense, the other in a fret of impatience
and testiness; and Marilda--having announced her opinion that Sir
Adrian would shirk it, and not come at all--in a state of glumness.
Edgar, however--an exception both to the discomfort and the seat--threw
himself into the breach with the story of the mysterious disappearance
of a nun, (Cherry suspected it of being _ben trovato_ for the nonce,)
and when that was worn out, and the master of the house insisted on
ringing for dinner, and the mistress was almost in tears at his hunger
and temper, and her own fear of rudeness, while Marilda only declared
that it was no more than the due of tardiness, it was Edgar alone who
had strength of mind to declare that patience ought to end, and to pull
the bell.
The guest arrived with the dinner, looking so sulky about the eyes,
that Cherry suspected him of having delayed while pitying himself for
the ante-nuptial infliction of this party. However, he proved to have
some justification, for a little stiffness of movement in giving his
arm to Mrs. Underwood elicited that he had bruised his shoulder in a
fall; and that good lady, pursuing the subject with less tact than
solicitude, drew from him that he had been mounting at his banker's
door, when his horse shied, and got its head away from the groom, but
was caught at once by a clerk sort of fellow. A showy brute, with an
uncertain temper. He should get rid of it.
Angela had been nudging Edgar all the time, to make him ask what horse
it was; and as he turned a deaf ear, her voice erected itself with the
shrill pert sound that is the misfortune of girlhood--'Was it Brown
Murad?'
Sir Adrian had to look to find out where the voice came from before he
answered in the affirmative.
'Then he isn't a brute at all!' said the same voice, with great
decision. 'He is as gentle as a lamb, and will eat bread out of your
hand if you know how to use him properly!'
Her cheeks were crimson, and she was greatly displeased that Edgar and
Geraldine should both begin talking of other things with all their
might.
Sir Adrian had more of the art of conversation than poor Ferdinand; and
as politics came up, Edgar declared himself to have become a voluntary
victim to unanimity between the three contracting powers, who had
harmoniously joined in rending his carcase. He left them, nearly as
soon as the ladies did, to discuss the business part of the affair,
and came to the aid of Cherry and Robina, who were vainly trying to
convince Angela of the inexpedience of her outbreak, and obtaining in
return the sentiment, 'I don't care what he does to Alda. It is her
choice, but not poor dear Brown Murad's, that he has got such a master!'
'You have done your best to make him fare worse.'
'Now, Edgar, you only want to frighten me.'
'No. If Vanderkist does not entirely forget the pertness of an _enfant
terrible_, it will just add another sting to his dislike of the poor
beast.'
Angela fairly burst into tears, and ran away to the school-room, whence
she returned with a bearing so magnanimous and desperate, that Cherry
and Robina dreaded lest she should be meditating an apology and an
appeal on behalf of the horse; so that they were much relieved when the
carriage came to take the young ladies home, before the consultation in
the dining-room broke up. Even then Angel did not wholly abstain, but
when Alda gave her mechanical kiss, she said, 'Alda, please don't let
Sir Adrian be unkind to that poor dear horse!'
'Silly child! What fancies you take into your head!' said Alda,
laughing, with a good-humoured superiority such as she had not shown
at home. 'You need not fear but that whatever belongs to him is made
happy.'
Angela returned an unfeigned look of astonishment, and exclaimed,
'After all, I do believe you are really in love with him!'
'Angel,' said Edgar, putting his hand on her shoulder, 'I called you an
_enfant terrible_ just now; but you are too big for that indulgence,
unless you mean to be equally hateful to friend and foe.'
Angela shook off his hand, and tossed her head disrespectfully, but
went off in silence. Sir Adrian only came upstairs to say he had
promised to look in on Lady Somebody; and Alda bade good night as soon
as he was gone. She had evidently nothing to say to Felix that night,
nor the next morning, though he waited about after breakfast to give
her the opportunity; accompanied the family to their very dry church;
and then, announcing his intention of repairing to St Matthew's, was
seen no more--not even at dinner-time, when his absence was somewhat
resented by his hosts, and vexed Cherry a good deal.
However, he appeared before ten o'clock, made an apology about his
unexpected detention, and when the family circle broke up obeyed
Cherry's wistful look, and followed her to her room.
'Was it about Fernan?' she asked.
'The clerk sort of fellow who stopped the horse?'
'It did cross me, but I thought it too good to be true. How was it?'
'He had been sent on some business to the bank, and was almost at the
door when Sir Adrian came out. The groom may have been holding the
horse carelessly. Sir Adrian spoke angrily; the horse started, got his
head free, and reared, throwing him down with his foot in the stirrup,
so that he would have been dragged if Fernan had not got hold of the
bridle, and his voice quieted poor Brown Murad in a moment.'
'Dear good fellow! I hope Sir Adrian did not punish him.'
'He is too valuable for that, I hope; but Sir Adrian did not spare
abuse to man or beast, and threw a thank-you to Ferdinand as if he
did not recognise him. Most likely we should never have heard of the
adventure if it had not jarred the weak place in poor Fernan's back. He
did not find it out at first, and stayed at his work the rest of the
day; but it has been getting worse ever since, and I found him on the
sofa, lengthened out with a chair.'
'That most horrible of sofas--all bars and bumps! Poor Fernan!'
'He only told me he had got a sprain in catching a rearing horse; and
then I leapt to the conclusion, and made him tell me. He says he has
hurt himself in the same way before, and that the Life Guards' surgeon
told him there was nothing for it but rest.'
'Rest, indeed! like St. Lawrence's gridiron--all but the fire! What did
you do for him?'
'Wished for Wilmet, and remembered Lance's telling me that I was of no
use to myself nor any one else.'
'Fancy Lance saying that! But you didn't really do nothing?'
'Luckily Edgar came in search of me, and showed what resource is.
He had up the landlady, and as usual captivated her. She produced a
mattress, and Edgar routed out some air-cushions that Fernan had used
before, and they made him much more comfortable, I want to take him
home, but he does not think he can bear the journey.'
'No,' said Cherry; 'and he would be always in the way of hearing about
_this;_ but it is dreadful to have him laid up in that dismal hole.'
'I ran round to the clergy-house, and they will look after him as much
as they can.'
'How is he looking?'
'As if he had not slept all night, but otherwise I believe this has
done him good; I fancy he never knew what the first impulse of the
ferocious old Mexican might be.'
'Did he say anything?'
'No, but the Vicar did. He has had a terrible time; but I hope the
worst is over. We read the Evening Service together; and he looked
so full of peace, that I thought of the contrast with that Christmas
morning when he opened his heart about the fire. There was all the
difference between blind feeling after truth and holding it in the
hand.'
'Was Edgar with you then?' asked Cherry, eagerly.
'No, he came later.'
'You Blunderbore!' said Cherry, rallying her playfulness to hide the
extinction of that moment's hope; 'how like the good Christian who gave
the wounded man the sermon first and the raspberry-vinegar after!'
'Come with me to-morrow, and give him the raspberry-vinegar then,
Cherry.'
'Nay,' said Cherry, feeling this impossible, but withholding the
reason; 'I am as bad--just as much demoralized by a Wilmet--and should
be no good.'
'The sight of you would be ever so much good. You needn't be shy. You
went with Clem.'
'Once too often,' faltered Cherry.
'Eh? Why W.W. said not a word against it!'
'I would go with all my heart, Felix,' said Cherry, earnestly, 'but
that I am afraid Alda gave him the--the same reason she did to Marilda.'
'What do you mean? You are all one blush! You can't mean that she
pretended jealousy?'
'I never meant you to know,' said Cherry. 'O Felix! nothing ever was so
dreadful! Marilda thought it so bad of me. I did so long for you!'
'You should have sent for me. I never thought of exposing you to such
an insult.'
'I tried to write, but my hand was too shaky; and then Edgar came, and
was so very dear! He said Alda only laid hold of this as a plea for
getting out of the affair; and you see he was right. Don't be vexed,
Felix; it is all over now, and I hope it has made me more of a woman
and less of a baby; but after this, I could not go to him.'
'No. I declare I can forgive Alda anything rather than this!'
'She does not know what she is saying when she is in an ill-used
mood--especially of me. Indeed, I believe I ought to have been more
guarded. Shall you tell her about the horse?'
'Certainly not.'
'And are you letting this go on without speaking to her?'
'I have written twice.'
'She never told me. What did you say?'
'A prose--I fear in the leader and heavy father style--which probably
she never read; and the answers were civil enough, but meant that she
would please herself.'
'You really do not mean to say anything?'
'If she asks my opinion, I must; but she does not. I am not here
to give my consent to the marriage, but to see fair play in the
settlements.'
'Do you think that right?'
'Remember, we know nothing against him, except his conduct to Fernan.'
'We know he has not much religion.'
'Cherry, I should put that objection forward decisively if she were
a younger one, for whom I am bound to judge; but she is only a year
younger than I am, and has seen more of the world. She must know more
about his principles than I can, and be able to judge whether she
chooses to trust to them. No argument of mine would make any difference
to her; and I have not the right to thrust in objections unasked.'
'O Felix!'
'What?'
'Is not that rather "Am I my brother's keeper?"'
'I hope not. You see, the sort of fatherly relation I bear to you all
has never existed towards her. She was given quite away; and where I do
not suppose even a father's remonstrance would avail, I do not feel
called upon to alienate her further by uplifting my testimony unsought.'
'No, it would hardly do her good; but it would clear your own
conscience.'
'It might bring dissension and harsh judgment on my conscience. Nothing
can be most conscientious that is not most for another's good; and I
do not think forcing an additional opposition or remonstrance, on mere
grounds of my own estimate of him, would be useful. You observe, too,
that our cool manner of treating this brilliant match is token enough
of our sentiments.'
'Then you won't go to the wedding?'
'Not if I can help it; and I don't think my company is desired.
Remember,' as he still saw her dissatisfied, 'it is not the same thing
to be an overt scamp as to be what you and I do not think a religious
man.'
With a sudden impulse Cherry burst out laughing. 'If the great Sir
Adrian could only see what the little country bookseller thinks of his
alliance?'
'Don't let pride peep out at the holes in our cloaks,' said Felix,
kissing her.
She could not refuse herself the satisfaction of letting Marilda hear
the real history of the accident; but she could extract nothing but
'Indeed.'
Altogether, Marilda disappointed Cherry. She went so entirely along
with the stream, only now and then remorselessly giving way to a
tremendous fit of crossness towards every one except her father, never
seeming scandalized by any doing of Alda's, and snubbing Cherry if she
showed any sort of disapprobation.
Felix stole the first hour of his busy day for Ferdinand, and then was
distressed to leave him outstretched in his dull, close, noisy den,
ill adapted for the daylight hours of anything but blue-bottle flies;
though neither heat nor idleness was quite so trying to him as they
would have been to an Underwood. He had a cigar and newspaper; but
when books were proposed to him, allowed that reading bored him. When
Felix shifted the cushions, however, under them was a deep devotional
mystical work; and colouring a little, he owned that nothing interested
him but reading and slowly digesting fragments of this kind. And Felix
felt that it would be unreasonable to regret the snapping of the tie
that bound him to Alda.
After some hours of business in the City, Felix came back, but was
amazed to hear that Mr. Travis was gone. The landlady seemingly rather
hurt at the slur on her attentions, said that an elderly lady had come
and taken him away, leaving an address. This led Felix into Finsbury
Square, where he was started to see waiting at the door a big carriage,
the panels and blinkers displaying the Underwood rood. On his asking
for Mr. Travis, a neat young maid took him to a downstairs room, where
Ferdinand was lying on a large sofa, accepting luncheon from a big
stout housekeeper-looking body, and--Marilda Underwood, her bonnet off,
as if quite at home!
'Felix!--Granny, have you never seen Felix Underwood!'
Mrs. Kedge turned round and held out her hand. 'I've never seen
Mr. Felix Hunderwood,' she said; 'but there's no gentleman I 'olds
in 'igher respect.--Sit down Mr. Felix, and take your bit of
noonchine.--Mary, give him some weal.--I could have had some soup if
I'd known I was to be so honoured; but I am a plain body, and likes a
cut from the servants' dinner--and so does Mary, for a change. So,'
before he could insert his civil reply, 'Vell, we've brought off your
friend; I 'ope you think him in good 'ands.'
'The kindest hands,' said Felix; though, as good Mrs. Kedge discoursed
on hopodeldoc and winegar as sovereign for a sprain, he began to think
the change a doubtful good, and was glad Ferdinand seemed chiefly
sensible of the motherly care of the old lady.
Marilda offered her cousin a seat in the carriage, when after the meal
she set forth to take her father home, there to hold conference with
Mr. Murray and the lawyer.
'This is your doing,' he said, gratefully, as they drove off. 'How very
kind!'
'Grandmamma always liked him,' said Marilda. 'He is so respectful, and
he plays backgammon.'
'It is much better for him than that doleful room, which was only made
endurable by its being near his friends the curates.'
'They will come to him there. Granny does not mind. She used to think
they starved Clement; but of late they have come to be great friends
with her, and come to her for rag, or broth, or hospital tickets.'
'Does she go to their church?'
'Oh no, she wouldn't to save her life--she thinks it quite shocking;
and there are two young merry ones who have regular quarrels with her,
teasing and making fun, and she scolding them, but so fond of them,
giving them quite large sums for their charities. She really delights
in them.'
Marilda spoke far more freely to Felix than she ever could to Cherry,
but still she steered clear of Alda and her affairs. Only she did ask
him earnestly to avert all additional care and anxiety from her father
in arranging for the settlements, and above all to hinder any question
over which he could become excited. Then, as he promised to do all in
his power, she asked him what he thought of her father's health and
looks. He could truly say that he thought he was much better since last
autumn, and she looked cheered; but the few words she whispered made
it known to him that she was all this time living in a watchful state
of continual anxiety--being in truth the only person, except perhaps
Edgar, who really understood what last year's attack had been, or the
dangers of another. If her mother and Alda knew, they did not realize;
and he could perceive both the burthen, and the manner in which it
rendered her almost passive, except in obviating discussion or alarm.
Of the former there was no danger at the conference. Mr. Murray was
just as anxious as Mr. Underwood and Felix could be, that the five
thousand pounds that had been promised to Alda should be settled upon
herself and the younger children, together with a fair proportion
charged upon the estate. He was a pleasing person, a perfect gentleman,
of mildly cordial manners, accepting his new connections with courtesy
and kindness. He was evidently charmed with Alda, whom he wanted to
take home with him to be introduced to Lady Mary, before returning to
choose her outfit. This was to be completed by the end of the month,
that the honeymoon might interfere as little as possible with the moon
fatal to partridges.
Felix was right. His presence was not desired. The father's part
naturally belonged to Thomas Underwood; and though an invitation was
not wanting, Alda did not remonstrate when Felix spoke of the assize
week requiring him to be at Minsterham, and of Charles Froggatt having
come home in such a broken state of health, that his father's presence
in Bexley could never be depended upon. She had no desire to display
the full dozen _geschwister;_ but to Cherry she qualified things a
little: 'I suppose as Felix will not come, one of you will stay with
him?'
'Of course I shall! You know I'm wedded!' And she merrily held Lord
Gerald's ivory visage close to her own.
'I knew you would shrink from it. And those two children at
Brompton--it will be the middle of their holidays, and it will not be
worth while having them; besides, it would be encroaching, as Uncle Tom
gives all those dresses--and one never knows what that Angel might do.'
'Never,' said Cherry, in full acquiescence, and sure of the same from
Wilmet.
'But Wilmet and Stella must come. One of the little Murrays will pair
with Stella; and I want Adrian to see her. You will not feel slighted,
Cherry; I know you had rather not.'
'Much rather not,' said Cherry, for Alda was really speaking
considerately. Indeed, Alda was taking such a leap out of the same
sphere, that she could afford to be gracious to 'the little deformed
one,' as Sir Adrian most inappropriately termed Geraldine. She
graciously accepted for a wedding-present an intended portrait of
Stella, and rejoiced heartily at Cherry's prize for the life-study.
Never had Cherry, however, been happier than in getting home, away from
constraint, away from fine houses, away from half-comprehended people,
back to free affection and mutual understanding.
'One's own cobweb for ever! The black caterpillar is crawling home
again to the dear old nettle!' she cried.
'But you are not sorry to have gone,' said Felix.
'If only to get back again.'
'But they were kind.'
'I don't want people to be kind; I want them to be one with me.'
'My dear! you did not seem unhappy. We thought you enjoyed yourself.'
'I did. I was only unhappy once. I liked things very much and shall
more, now I have time. It was such a bustle and whirl; and I felt so
obliged to make the most of it, that it seemed to wear my senses. Don't
you see, it was like snatching at flowers; and now I can sit down to
make up my nosegay, and see what I have gained.'
Cherry almost expected Wilmet to decline, in her hatred of finery and
her general dissatisfaction; but Wilmet's love of Alda was too strong
for her not to long to be with her at such a crisis of her life, and
she was eager to accept the invitation, without fearing that the
effects of her absence would be as direful as in the previous year.
The party at home were not by any means disconsolate. Felix was very
busy, for Charles Froggatt had come home, a repentant prodigal, and
slowly sinking under the disease that had carried off his more worthy
brothers; and the father could seldom persuade himself to leave him for
long together, and besides, needed cheering and comfort from his young
friends. But Lance and young Lamb were working well and helpfully; and
William Harewood spent almost as much time at Bexley as his brother had
done.
He had passed his examination with flying colours, and had previously
matriculated at Oxford; and thus being emancipated from the choir,
which had kept him close at home, he seemed to think it liberty to be
always at Bexley. As a Harewood, Wilmet let him do as he would--sleep
in the barrack, and be like one of their own boys; and Lance's
neighbourhood seemed to be all he wanted, though little of Lance's
company was to be had, except in walking to see him bathe in early
morning, and in long walks after seven in the evening--and for these
the long July days gave ample verge. Robina, Angel, and Bernard often
benefited by these expeditions into the dewy fields, redolent of hay,
and came home to that delightful twilight that seems as if it would
never be darkness.
Bill professed perfect content in the day hours. He was a voracious
reader, and would remain for hours in the reading-room intent on some
pursuit; and what perhaps was a still greater attraction, he could
talk, and find listeners.
Cherry only now understood what Lance had always maintained--that that
shock-headed boy was full of thought, poetry, and ability. He had shed
his school-boy slough; and he had moreover adopted the Underwoods, and
for the first time learnt what an appreciative woman could be.
His poem of this year was so good, that Lance and Robin thought
Felix shockingly blind because he refused to put it bodily into the
Pursuivant, though allowing that it was much better than anything that
would appear instead; and short pieces that the lad was continually
striking off were only too good for the poet's corner, where, however,
they gave an infinity of pleasure and satisfaction to two households
at least. The poet--March Hare, as he signed himself--was an odd
mixture of his father's scholarly tastes with his mother's harum-scarum
forgetfulness; and the consequence was such abstraction at one moment,
such slap-dash action at another, that he was a continual good-natured
laughing-stock. To talk and read to Cherry seemed to be one of his
great objects in life. He began it with Robina; but gradually Cherry,
partly as critic and sub-editor of the Pursuivant, partly on her own
merits, became the recipient of ten thousand visions, reflections,
aspirations, that were crowding upon the young spirit, while she tried
to follow, understand, and answer, with a sense that her powers were
being stretched, and her eyes opened into new regions.
And then, if a stranger appeared, he sank into the red-headed lout; or
if he had a message or commission, he treated it senselessly. Lance
used to send Bernard up--as he said, to see him into the right train;
and in the home party in the evening, his wit and drollery were the
cause of inexhaustible mirth--Willie, as Robin and Angela agreed, was
better fun than all the weddings, and even all the sights that London
could give. Sometimes they were weary with laughing at him, sometimes
with the lift he gave their minds; for even Angel understood and
followed, and was more susceptible than her elders gave her credit for;
and certainly she had never been so good as she was this summer, though
it was still a flighty odd sort of goodness.
And all this time there was not a word between him and Robin of that
evening walk. Whether he thought of it or not she knew not; but with
her the recollection had a strength that the moment had not had. It
seemed to be growing up with her. It was a memory that went deeper--far
deeper than was good for her, poor child, since there was no surface
chatter to carry it off; but the maidenliness of fifteen shrank with
a sort of horror and dismay from the bare consciousness that she had
allowed herself to think that those words of his could be serious, even
while they had formed in her a fixed purpose of striving for him; and
every mark of kindness or of preference assumed a value unspeakable
and beyond her years, while her whole self was so entirely the good,
plodding, sensible, simple child, that no one detected the romance
beneath. Did the object of it, himself?
Meantime Wilmet had found Alda much gratified by her reception at the
Rectory, though confessing that she was glad that it was not in her
immediate neighbourhood. Lady Mary Murray belonged to a severe school
of religious opinions, and was antagonistic to gaiety and ornament,
both secular and ecclesiastic. What effect they and Clement might have
mutually had upon each other was not proved, for he had found a pupil,
and was far away; but as Alda herself owned, Wilmet would have been the
daughter-in-law to suit them.
Wilmet and Marilda were very congenial in their housewifely tastes and
absence of romance, and above all, in a warm and resolutely blind love
for Alda, never discussing the past, and occupied upon the trousseau,
without an _arrière pensée_.
Sir Adrian was civil to Wilmet, but he never would acknowledge the
resemblance between the twin-sisters; and as Wilmet wore no earrings,
and kept her hair in the simple style that John Harewood had once
pronounced perfect, he had only once been confused between them, and
then was so annoyed, that Edgar said he was like a virtuoso, who having
secured some unique specimen, finds the charm of possession injured by
the existence of a duplicate.
Even in the Murray family there might be those who questioned
whether the beauty were equal. Either the smooth folds and plaits
of the rich brown hair pleased a homely taste better than fanciful
varieties, or housewifery and early hours were better preservatives
than London seasons; or maybe the stately sweetness of the original
mould was better and more congenially maintained in the life of
the true 'loaf-giver or lady' of the laborious thrifty home than
in the luxurious dependence of the alien house, and the schemes,
disappointments, and successes of the late campaign.
At any rate, at three-and-twenty the twins were less alike than of
old; and if Alda had the advantage in the graces of art and society,
Wilmet had a purity of bloom and nobleness of countenance that she
could not equal. If Wilmet were silent, and by no means so entertaining
as Geraldine, her little companion thoroughly compensated for any
deficiencies. Every one was taken by surprise by Stella's beauty, after
the three intermediate sisters, who had little pretensions to anything
remarkable in that line. The child was of the same small delicate frame
as Cherry and Lance; in fact, much what Cherry might have been with
more health and less genius to change those delicately-moulded features
and countenance. The colouring of the blue eyes and silken hair was
rather deeper than the prevailing tint, and the complexion was of the
most exquisite rosy fairness and delicacy, giving a sense of the most
delicate porcelain--the movements and gestures perfectly graceful, and
the innocent chatter delightful, from its eagerness and simplicity. She
was in every one's eyes an extraordinarily lovely and engaging child;
and she could have reigned supreme over the whole house if she had ever
perceived her power, or emancipated herself from her loyal submission
to 'Sister.'
Many a time did Wilmet's restrictions vex her hosts, and call forth
Edgar's epithets of dragon and Medusa. Luckily the child was of the
faithful spirit that honestly trusts its lawful authorities, fears
forbidden sweets, and feels full compensation in the pleasure of
obedience. One day, when a refusal to take her to the theatre had
caused great indignation, Sir Adrian, who was by no means insensible to
her charms, enlivened an idle moment by trying to excite her to rebel.
'I would not stand it, Stella--not I! Tell her stars have no business
to be hidden.'
'It's no use,' said Stella. 'Sister says when once she says No, it is
for always.'
'How very dreadful! She must be cured as soon as possible!'
Stella looked greatly perplexed; and Edgar, the only other person
present, looked on in great amusement.
'Let us organise a combination,' continued Sir Adrian. 'What should we
come to, if women were allowed to keep to a single No?'
'Which would be the greatest sufferers?' muttered Edgar.
'It would be very nasty if Sister didn't,' said Stella, understanding
him verbally more nearly than he had expected.
'Indeed!' said Sir Adrian.
'Yes. One would never know when to make up one's mind.'
'One's mind! You little china fairy, have you got the mind of a midge?'
'Yes, _I_ have!' said Stella, with an emphasis that Edgar at least
understood as an allusion to the difference between herself and
Theodore; and a little in fear of what might come next, he said, 'Mind
enough to assert her woman's privilege, though how she may come to like
to be bound by it is another thing.'
'Look here, little one,' continued Sir Adrian, 'we'll not let Sister
alone till she comes round, and then I'll put you in my pocket and take
you.'
'No, thank you,' said Stella, retreating.
'I thought you wanted to see the fairies?'
'I did; but Sister knows best.'
'Come, now; I'd give something to know where, in her secret soul, this
little thing would like to send all the sisters that know best?'
'To the Neilgherry Hills,' said Stella, with surprising promptness;
'that's where Captain Jack is!'
'A capital location!' cried the baronet, laughing triumphantly. 'Well
done, little one! Send her off--and then we'll have pine-apple ice, and
smart frocks, and go to as many plays as we please! You know what it
means to have the cat away.'
'That was what Bernard said when Wilmet was away, and Alda at home,'
said Stella; 'but it was very miserable. It was the very horridest
portion in the whole course of our lives!'
'Long may it so continue, Stella,' said Edgar. 'You'll get no change
out of her, Vanderkist.'
'It's an odd little piece of goods. I can't make out if it is a
child at all,' said Sir Adrian. 'I can't believe it is more than
drilling.--Now, my little beauty--no one will tell--walls can't
hear--honour bright--which are you for in your heart of hearts--Sister
Wilmet and propriety, or Alda and--liberty?'
Edgar listened curiously; but Stella had that good genius of tact
and courtesy that sometimes inspires children; and she made answer,
'Wilmet is my own dear sister, and I am very glad it is Alda that you
have got.'
'Well said, you little ingenious morsel!' cried Edgar, laughing with
delight, and catching her up in his arms. 'What does nature design this
little being for, Adrian? To marry a great diplomat?'
'To do execution of some sort, I should say,' returned Sir Adrian;
'unless such alarming discretion cancels the effect of those eyes.
Never saw a pair more meant to make hearts ache,' and he sauntered out
of the room.
'Why, what now, you star of courtesy? has he kindled the spark of
vanity at last, that you are craning over to the big pier-glass--eh?'
said Edgar, with his little sister still in his arms.
'I only want to see what he means that is so horrid in my eyes,' said
Stella; 'please show me, Edgar. How can they hurt people so?'
'It's a way they have, Stella,' he gravely answered, 'when they are
clear, and blue, and big-pupilled, and have great long black lashes.'
And he looked with proud pleasure at the reflection of the sweet little
puzzled face beside his own brown beard.
'But your eyes are just like that, Edgar; and so are everybody's,
aren't they? Why do you laugh, Edgar? I wish I could go home, for I
don't understand any of you.'
'So much the better, Sister would say. I declare, I must risk it, and
see the effect. I say, Stella, don't you know that you're a little
beauty, that they are all raving about? There!'
'Oh yes,' said Stella composedly; 'I know people always do like things
for being little, and young, and pretty. And then they don't see Tedo,
and he is so much prettier than me, you know.'
'You impracticable child! What! have you no shade of a notion that it
is a fine thing to have such a phiz as that one? Did you never thank
your stars that you weren't as ugly as Martha?'
'Do you worship the stars, Edgar? For I heard Clem say you were very
little better than a heathen; and I suppose worshipping the stars is
better than worshipping idols.'
'Is that malice, or simplicity--eh? Never mind my creed. You are my
sister at this moment, and are to answer me truly. Do you know that you
are a beauty? and are you glad of it?'
'I shouldn't like to be ugly,' said Stella; 'not so ugly that I
couldn't bear to look at myself. But if I was, they wouldn't leave off
being kind to me at home.'
'Nor abroad either,' said Edgar, kissing her. 'You've got the tongue
that is nearly equal to the eyes, my Stella.'
Stella's simplicity might soon have been put in the way of further
trials, for there was a serious proposal of adopting her in Alda's
room, and promises of excellent education and an ample provision: and
when Felix's decided though grateful refusal arrived, Mr. and Mrs.
Underwood spoke angrily of his folly, as selfish, and almost undutiful
to his father, who had freely trusted them with the two elders; but
Edgar cut this short. 'No, no, my dear good governor. That won't do;
Felix knows that if my father could have seen the results, he would ten
times rather have let us fight it out in the Irish cabin at home.'
'I am sure,' exclaimed Mrs. Underwood, 'we have done everything for
you, Edgar! It is enough to cure one of offering to do anything for any
one!'
'Just what I say,' was Edgar's grave response; but he added, with his
natural sweetness, 'Not but that I believe, in the common herd, we
should have been, if anything, worse than we are now. We brought the
bad drop with us. You did not infuse it.'
'Speak for yourself, Edgar,' said Marilda, rushing to the defence, as
usual.
So the family was only represented by two sisters and one brother at
the wedding, which was solemnized by Mr. Murray at the parish church,
and was a regular common-place smart affair, with carriages, favours,
and crowds of spectators in much excitement to catch a sight of the
beautiful bride.
Murrays mustered in force, and Mrs. Underwood's felicity was complete;
for the titled uncle was so glad to see his Sister Mary happy about
her son, that he came in full state, and made a very gratifying
speech all about nothing. While Wilmet thought of her own soldier on
the Neilgherry hills, and felt how widely her path and that of her
twin-sister must diverge. And Mr. Underwood enjoyed the compliments to
the 'more than father,' and congratulated himself on having truly done
well by poor Edward's child.
'I only wish he were here to see her!' he cried with an effusion of
almost tearful delight, as he handed Lady Vanderkist to her carriage.