CHAPTER XXVIII.

STARS GRATIS.

'Back to the cell, and mean employ,

Resume the craftsman and the boy.'

_Browning_.

Three months later there was another family gathering, but it was for

Thomas Underwood's funeral.

It had come very suddenly. Spa had been given up in favour of Brighton;

and there what had seemed a slight casual ailment had been followed by

a recurrence of the disease, and a stroke came on which terminated life

in a few hours.

Mrs. Underwood was prostrated; but Marilda managed everything, with the

help of Spooner, the confidential clerk. She wrote to Felix that he was

joint executor with herself, and that as her father had wished to be

buried at Centry, he should give orders. Edgar had gone abroad, and no

one knew where to write to him.

The chosen burial-place was quite in accordance with poor Mr.

Underwood's desire to restore the family. Every year he had made an

effort to reside there, and been as regularly frustrated by his wife's

predilection for German baths, and dislike to the Bexley neighbourhood.

Hers had been the dominion of a noisy tongue, and of ready tears and

reclamations, but, poor woman, she was quite passive between the two

stronger spirits of her mother and her daughter, who brought her down

to Centry the day before the funeral. Mrs. Kedge led her away at once

to her room; but Marilda stood in the hall, excited, yet business-like,

discussing arrangements with Felix, in that prompt, lucid,

all-considering manner that sometimes springs out of the pressure of a

great affliction, settling every detail with eager peremptoriness--as,

for instance, finding that Felix had intended his brothers only to meet

the procession in the grave-yard, she vehemently stipulated that they

should come to the house, and be transported in carriages like the

rest. Her mother would not go, and would be left with Mrs. Kedge; but

she herself was resolved on being present, with Felix for her supporter.

'You will like to have Wilmet with you?' he asked.

'I thought Wilmet would have been here now,' she said, as if

disappointed.

'Alda is coming by the five o'clock train; and she thought you had

rather be together.'

'But you will stay?' she earnestly entreated.

Alda arrived, weeping so much that she had to be taken upstairs at

once. The occupation and excitement were perhaps good for Marilda, who

was in a restless tearless state, only eager to be doing something for

some one. She sat at the head of the dinner-table, Mr. Spooner at the

foot; but the conversation was chiefly due to the instinctive habits of

good breeding belonging to Sir Adrian, whose 'go through with it' air

was not unlike what he had worn at his wedding.

When the ladies went away, he inquired what was known about the

will; but Felix knew nothing, and if Mr. Spooner knew, he would not

say. Thereupon Sir Adrian became silent, and asked the way to the

smoking-room, whither Mr. Spooner deemed it needful to follow, while

Felix repaired to the drawing-room.

He thought it empty; but Alda's head looked round the tall back of an

easy-chair.

'Felix, is it you? I was nearly asleep.'

'Are you tired?'

'Yes, rather. It is such a shock--and my poor aunt's grief! It is

so frightful to see a large person give way; it makes me quite ill.

Where's Adrian?--smoking?'

'Yes.'

'That's man's way of getting out of trouble. If poor Marilda could

smoke, she would not be half so restless and wretched. She has been up

and down here four or five times in ten minutes. It wears one out!'

'She will be calmer when the bustle is over.'

'She tells me that you are executor with her.'

'I am afraid so.'

'Afraid! why?'

'Of the complication of business of which I have no experience, and

that must be thoroughly looked into.'

'Now, for my part,' said Lady Vanderkist, 'I should have expected you

to be gratified at such a mark of confidence.'

'So I am, Alda. It is not want of gratitude; it is only that I wish I

were better qualified.'

'You understand business.'

'Understanding my own business shows me how little I know of other

people's.'

'It would not be other people's, if you take this as it is meant. There

can be no doubt that he meant to pave the way. Don't look so senseless

and uncompromising, Felix; you must have heard Edgar say so!'

The colour glowed into Felix's face as he answered, 'You have not been

so silly as to take Edgar's nonsense in earnest?'

'It is absurd in you to pretend simplicity,' said Alda, sitting

upright, and looking at him earnestly. 'Here is such an opportunity

as you may never have again. This arrangement must have been made on

purpose to remove all scruples.'

'Nay, Alda,' interrupted Felix, in a tone of regret and shame

at the subject and the time. 'If there were no objection, this

arrangement would be the greatest in itself,' and as she looked at him

incredulously, 'don't you see that he has set me to do a brother's part

to her? anything to interfere with that would be both unfair and cruel.'

'She knows nothing of such ridiculous refinements as you work

yourselves up to. Besides no one wishes you to do anything at once;

only you ought to have it in your mind, and might be making way all

the time.--Felix,' as she saw his face and gesture, 'you don't mean

that you are so absurdly fastidious. I call that quite wrong--in your

position, too--and when she is the dearest best-hearted girl in the

world!' added Alda, with more genuine feeling.

'True, Alda; I esteem her goodness and generosity too highly to treat

her with the disrespect and insincerity such a course would imply.'

'Nonsense! as if it would not be the greatest kindness to save her from

fortune-hunters!'

Felix smiled. 'What should I be myself?' he said. 'I must speak

plainly, to put this out of your head. Nothing else would lead me to

this, and in me it would be especially abominable, because I am the

only man in the family able to be of any use to her; and besides, I am

not only poor, and in a lower grade, but I have so many dependent upon

me.--Don't you see?'

'I only see that you are obstinate and unreasonable, throwing away all

my pains to guard her for you!'

Felix could not but laugh a little ironically as he said, 'Thank you.'

'You think it mere fancy,' said Lady Vanderkist, nettled into proving

her words by an exposure of herself; 'but she would have had that young

Travis two years ago, if I had not managed to give him a hint before he

got involved.'

'Alda!' He started up, and stood over her, speaking low, but with pain

and horror inconceivable. 'Alda, if you had not told me this, I should

not have believed it. I do not believe you now.'

Alda had the grace to colour violently under the force of his

indignation. 'Well, well,' she said, 'of course it was not only that.

No one out of a novel would be so disinterested without a little bit of

infatuation besides; but it is of no use recollecting these things now,

when they are gone by.'

This was so incontrovertible that Felix made no answer, and was glad

that Marilda returned, trying to work off her restlessness by ringing

all the possibilities of Edgar's seeing the announcement in the

'Times,' and coming home.

Felix was still too much stunned to reply freely, and took his leave

as soon as possible. He walked home, finding no solace for his dismay

at the usage of Ferdinand, save in plans which his better sense knew

to be impracticable for bringing Ferdinand and Marilda together; but

the match which might have been easily accomplished as a veritable

_mariage de convenance_, could not be contemplated by an almost

penniless clerk. Moreover, the heart had been given away, and Felix

could not believe that it would be possible to turn to Marilda from

one of his own graceful sisters. Even though the essential vulgarity

of Alda's nature had been so painfully evident, the delicate contour

of her face, her refined intonation and pronunciation, and elegance of

appearance and manner, returned on him in contrast with poor Marilda's

heavy uncouthness, and the shock she inflicted on his taste by plain

speaking--worse in manner, if better in matter.

On his return home, he found that Edgar had arrived, having travelled

day and night ever since the tidings had met his eye. He was very much

tired, and genuinely grieved and overcome, too much even to battle with

the manifestation of his feelings. Always affectionate, he mourned for

one who had, as he said, been far kinder to him than he deserved, and

though often angered with him, had pardoned and overlooked his offences

with the partiality of a father. That their final farewell had been one

of sharp remonstrance on the one hand, and of gay defiant coolness on

the other, added poignancy to his regret; and there was so much more of

actual self-reproach than usually came from his tongue, that a gleam

of hope glanced through the minds of Felix and Cherry that this shock

might be the beginning of better things.

They certainly had never seen him so subdued as when he set out for

Centry the next morning with his brothers and Wilmet; and the meeting

with Marilda was like that of an orphan brother and sister. With all

her esteem and confidence for Felix, her affection for Edgar was a

much warmer and more instinctive feeling; and the sight of him brought

her tears freely and heartily, while she told him the history of her

father's last hours, and his gentle warmth of manner soothed and

comforted her.

He was sent for to her mother's dressing-room; and when he left it only

to join the funeral party, he looked pale, shaken, and overwhelmed by

grief he had shared as well as witnessed. The position of son of the

house seemed his right. It was he who led Marilda to the carriage, and

handed in first her, then Wilmet followed. Felix was just about to

step in, when another person thrust forward, and had his hand on the

door, when Edgar said, 'I believe my brother comes with us,' and 'Come

Felix,' was hastily murmured from under Marilda's veil. He obeyed, and

met a shrug and scowl of displeasure and amazement; but nothing could

be thought of except poor Marilda's choking sobs under her veil.

It is one curious effect of good breeding, that while in one class

publicity seems to stifle the expression of grief, in another it

enhances it; and when Marilda's excitement had once dissolved in

tears, her agitation became so excessive, that her cousins watched

her anxiously, Wilmet attempting all that salts and kind pressures of

the hand could do, and the brothers supporting her, when she clung to

Edgar's arm, as if resting her whole weight on him, when the movement

to the church began.

It was one of the regular conventional, and therefore most oppressive

of funerals, with a great array of pall-bearers, friends from London,

and a train of persons with whom Thomas Underwood had been associated;

and after all was over, most of them came to a great cold luncheon,

which was to occupy them till the next train.

There they trooped, a black multitude, into the dreary big dining-room;

and Felix, knowing nobody, and unwilling to take the lead, was much

relieved when Edgar returned from taking Marilda upstairs and went

round with greetings and replies to every one. When he came to the

gentleman who would have entered the carriage, he said, 'Good morning,

Fulbert. Here--my eldest brother.'

Felix held out his hand, but met an ungracious bend. 'You muster strong

here,' were the words, chiefly addressed to Edgar.

'I am sorry not to show you any more of us,' said Edgar, with a spice

of malice; 'the others have walked home.'

Then Felix made some courteous inquiry for the elder Fulbert, and was

answered in the coldest and haughtiest of tones, and the Vicar of Vale

Leston turned away. In this company, all in mourning, he would not

have been taken for a clergyman, chiefly from a sort of free-and-easy

air about his dress, and his unclerical cast of countenance, which was

wearied, bored and supercilious.

'Take the other end of the table,' indicated Edgar; but Felix would

have abstained, had not Mr. Harford summoned him by a look; and another

scowl from the Reverend Fulbert was the consequence.

Before long that gentleman was examining the lawyer as to when the

will was to be read; and hearing in return that so few were concerned

that there was to be no public opening. Did Miss Underwood know that

he--Fulbert--was here?--Yes, certainly.--He should like to see her and

her mother. Mr. Harford applied to Edgar, who undertook to ascertain

whether they would wish it.

'What can it be for?' said Marilda, who was sitting between the twin

sisters, calm, though spent with weeping, and unusually gentle.

'To warn you against us,' said Edgar. 'He is ready every moment to

insult Felix; but if you can bear it, you had better face him, or he

will say we beset you, and let no one have access to you.'

'That would be better than his teasing her,' said Wilmet.

'No, I don't mind whom I see now,' said Marilda. 'I must stand alone.

Send him to me in the library, Edgar.'

This left Wilmet for the first time alone with Alda, longing to enter

fully into her sister's new life, and hearing that Ironbeam Park was

delightful; beautiful house, splendid drawing-rooms, beautiful grounds,

sheet of water, swans, deer, good neighbourhood, people calling, dinner

invitations without number, guests who had had to be put off. There was

a little attempt at complaint at being overwhelmed by the welcome, but

pleasure and exultation were visible enough; only it seemed to Wilmet

that there was more of the splendour and less of the Adrian, than she

would have expected. Marilda soon came back.

'Well, was it as Edgar said?' asked Alda.

'He offers his wife to come and stay with me.'

'I dare say!'

'I shouldn't wonder if he meant to be kind!'

'Now, Marilda, you aren't going to let yourself be talked over!' cried

Alda.

'He is my relation,' said Marilda, bluffly, in a tone that showed she

meant to be mistress of her own actions. 'I came back to say that there

are things to be done. There are Felix and Edgar walking in the garden;

I want them in the library.'

She was going to ring to have them summoned; but Wilmet undertook to

fetch them, going through an ante-room with a glass door; which she was

just unfastening, when she heard a voice behind her--'Holloa, where are

you going now?' She perceived her brother-in-law, lounging on a sofa

with a newspaper.

'I am looking for my brothers.'

'I say, haven't I told you that I'll not have you eternally running

after that concern?'

She faced about, and looked full at him with her grave eyes, and neck

held like a stag's.

'I beg your pardon,' he stammered. 'This confounded mourning makes

everybody alike.'

She did not wait to hear more, but was gone as soon as the bolt had

yielded.

The Tartar had shown himself without a scratch. Were these his domestic

manners to his three months' bride?

She said nothing to her brothers, but brought them to the library,

where Marilda was awaiting them, with the lawyer, Harford, and the

manager, Spooner, to settle about the will.

Alda's five thousand pounds had been made over to her at her marriage,

so that she was not mentioned. A large share in the mercantile house

already belonged to Mrs. Underwood, and to her was bequeathed the

lease of the Kensington house, with the furniture; but Centry Park was

absolutely left to Mary Alda, the daughter, with all the property in

the funds, or embarked in the business, coupled with a request that

in case of her marriage she should carry with her the name and arms

of Underwood. Among the legacies were fifteen hundred pounds to Felix

Chester Underwood, and one thousand pounds apiece to Thomas Edgar,

Theodore Benjamin, and Stella Eudora--Felix and Mr. Harford trustees

for these last, with liberty to use the interest for their benefit, or

let it accumulate, as might be best.

No one made any remark; and the lawyer was beginning to tell the two

executors what immediate steps they must take, when Edgar rose, saying,

'I suppose I'm not wanted!'

Marilda jumped up. 'Edgar, you ain't vexed! Poor Papa thought the

executorship might take time, trouble, and expense, that ought to be

made up for.'

'Now, Polly,' said Edgar, with his sweet candid smile, 'you are not

thinking me grudging dear old Fee anything man could give him! I only

wish he had mine. He'd do some good with it;' and he fondly laid his

hand on the shoulder of Felix, who, not being used, like him, to view

Harford and Spooner as tame cats, had rather have had this more in

private.

'You'll leave it in our hands, and let us make the most of it for you,

Edgar,' said warm-hearted Marilda; 'that Pampas railway is never less

than seven per cent., you know.'

'All very well, Poll, if the item could be suppressed when the will is

blazoned abroad. It is not ingratitude, dear old girl. It is more than

I deserve or expected, and will give me a hoist.'

'I hope--' began Marilda eagerly.

'Never mind me. The best part of it is that nest-egg for those babies.'

'It is indeed,' said Felix; 'I cannot express how thankful I am,

especially for poor Theodore's sake.'

'It will not do much in the funds,' said Marilda, gratified; 'but leave

it in our hands, and little Stella shall have quite a fortune. You will

judge of our security when you look into our books.'

Marilda's habit of identifying herself with the firm had begun half

in play years ago; and in fact, the house now chiefly consisted of

herself, her mother, and grandmother, with Spooner, who had shares

enough to give him a personal interest in the transactions.

'You do not mean to go on with the business?' asked Felix.

'Why not? I have worked at it, and like it much better than the piano

or bead-work--and I can, can't I, Mr. Spooner?'

'We all know your competence, Miss Underwood. I would not wish for a

more sagacious head, if--'

'Yes, if,' said Marilda more sadly; 'but you see, Felix, you may trust

me. Let me keep your own and the twins, for you.'

'For the twins, I do not know how the law stands. Mr. Harford will tell

me; but for myself, it may make a great difference to have this capital

just now,' said Felix, who had already perceived what it might do for

him.

Charles Froggatt had been dead about a month, and with him his father

had lost all personal hope or interest in the business, and the few

times he had come into the town, had shrunk from meetings even with

old friends, and crept upstairs to talk to Geraldine. He wished to

retire, and he would have liked to have put Felix Underwood, who had

for nearly nine years been as a dutiful son, into a son's place; but he

had relations to whom he must do justice, and he was unwilling to bring

in a new partner, who might, as a moneyed man, lord it over Felix;

while if he left things in their present condition till his death,

the succession would pass to a family whom he knew to be uncongenial.

All this had been discussed, but without seeing any way out of the

difficulty, until in this legacy Felix saw the means of making himself

master of the house and stock, and thus would obtain a footing as a

citizen, by which he could profit as he gained in age and standing. The

available income of the family would hardly be increased, since the

absolute possession of the house involved expenses that had hitherto

been paid over his head; but the security and independence were worth

more than the pounds, shillings and pence that might otherwise have

been brought in. The certain provision for the helpless Theodore also

made Felix more free. The lawyer, his fellow trustee, greatly to

Wilmet's satisfaction, would not allow the sum in trust to be invested

in anything but government security, and as nothing was needed at

present for the child, the interest might there accumulate in case of

need.

Edgar showed himself much subdued by the change in the household. He

never spoke plainly about his doings, and direct questions drove him

to his retreat in the ludicrous. However, it could be inferred that in

the recklessness induced by Alice Knevett's desertion, he had gone far

enough to alarm himself, and behold some abyss of exposure and disgrace

whence the legacy would retrieve him, and that he was resolved to pull

up and begin upon a different course.

He talked eagerly and edifyingly of setting about a picture for

exhibition, the proceeds of which might take him to Italy, to begin a

course of study at Rome, where he might make a home for Cherry to come

and work with him; and they built up a _Château en Espagne_, the more

fervently in proportion to Cherry's want of faith therein. Hours were

spent in devising and sketching subjects for _the_ picture, or rather

pictures, for Mr. Renville was very anxious that Geraldine should make

a venture in water-colours, such as might at least make her known as a

possible illustrator. Edgar's eye and advice were very useful to her;

and she decided on one ideal subject--the faithful little acolyte, who

while the priest slept on the cold morning,

'Turned and sought the choir,

Touched the Altar tapers

With a flake of fire.'

And likewise the sketches of Stella in different attitudes, which she

had made with a view to Alda's picture, were worth working at with her

utmost power.

For Edgar's own part, he had resolved on a scene which Cherry thought

wild and impracticable, till he had dashed in his sketch of Brynhild

asleep in the circle of fire, with Sigurd about to break through. There

was something so bright and fiery, so expressive and powerful, in the

hastily-designed and partly-coloured _ébauche_ that Cherry gazed at it

like something of weird and magical beauty, only longing for her master

to see it, and own Edgar's genius.

Brynhild's model was Wilmet, who, much against the grain, was induced

to let down all her mass of hair, and let Edgar pose her on the

sofa squab with bare arms. In his mischief, however, he produced a

counter pen-and-ink outline of Marilda in the same position, with

all the pointed flames labelled with the names of various stocks and

securities; while Sigurd's helmet disclosed Felix, armed with the

Pursuivant, and hesitating to plunge in. He might with equal propriety

have drawn himself, his sister Alda thought, for on failing with Felix,

she had actually whispered the same hint to him, but was met with the

reply, 'Oh no, I am not bad enough for that.'

She was spending a week longer at Centry, that Sir Adrian might

massacre the pheasants, which, however, he considered to be so

disgracefully preserved, that he spent much time and eloquence in

explaining to Miss Underwood how she might render her game a source of

profit.

One November day, the last of the Vanderkists' stay at Centry, when the

sisters had been sent for in the afternoon, and he and Lance were to

follow for the evening, Felix, returning into his office, was amazed to

see a figure standing at the fire.

'Ferdinand! what good wind brings you here?'

'I am come to say good-bye.'

'What? Mr. Brown sends you out to America?'

'No, it is on my own account. His correspondent at Oswego has

telegraphed to him to find me, and let me know of my uncle's death.'

'Death!'

'Yes, I know no particulars.'

'And are you his heir?'

'That I do not know. Probably. I cannot bring myself to care.'

'How much is it?'

'Brown knows of fifty thousand in stock that he can lay his hand upon;

but there must be more than as much again afloat in the States, in

goodness knows what speculations, and I shall have to deal with it all!'

'It is well you have had an apprenticeship. The Life Guardsman would

have known less about it. When do you start?'

'I go back to town by the mail train to-night, to Liverpool to-morrow.

I could not go without telling you; and when I tried to write, I felt I

must see you and this place again. But you are going out.'

'We were, but we shall be glad to get off.'

'To Centry? Is she there?'

'Yes. Going early to-morrow.'

Before Ferdinand had done more than stare into the fire, Lance opened

the door. 'Mr. Flowerdew wants--Holloa! Fernan dropped from the skies!'

'Is Mr Flowerdew there?' said Felix, about to pass him.

'No; he only wants you to write up to Novello's.--Do you hear, Fernan?

we are to have _such_ a concert in the town hall, for a real good

organ. Edgar will bring down no end of stars for it. You'll come down

for it?'

'Fernan will be in the utmost parts of America by that time, Lance.'

'Look here, Lance,' said Fernan--that dark sad countenance lighting as

it sometimes did--'just you wait a fortnight, and I can all but promise

you--'

'An organ by Atlantic cable, eh?' said Felix, laughing. 'Look at Lance,

Fernan; he'd hardly thank you. It is the concert they want; the organ

is the excuse.'

'Now, Felix, you are as much set on the concert as I am. He is to sing,

"Return, blest days,"' rattled on Lance, too eager on his own hobby to

draw the inference as to Fernan's fortunes; 'and Mr. Miles has promised

to come himself with all our own fellows; and so we can have the sacred

part something respectable. It is a horrid pity you can't come!'

'He will be better employed, Lance; he believes he is come into his

fortune.'

'And if so, Felix, nothing can hinder me from my greatest possible

pleasure, the giving this organ to St Oswald's--the church of my

baptism.'

'Well, Fernan, the bear is not caught yet, remember; but when it is,

I'm not the man to hinder you from making up the deficit I strongly

anticipate after this same concert of ours.'

'Felix! A hundred and sixty reserved seats at a guinea, and--'

Felix put up his hands to his ears. 'Meantime, Lance, find little

Lightfoot, and tell him to get ready to take a note into the country.'

Ferdinand of course rose up, insisting on starting by the five o'clock

train, but was withheld while Felix wrote a note to Marilda, in which

he communicated the tidings, leaving it to her and to Wilmet to inform

Lady Vanderkist.

The note was delivered in the expectant time before dinner, when

Marilda, without any preliminary but 'Bless me! what does Felix write

to me for?' read--

MY DEAR COUSIN,

You must have the kindness to excuse Lance and myself from

joining your party to-night. We are unexpectedly prevented by

the arrival of Mr. Travis, who has come down to take leave,

having been telegraphed for to Oswego on his uncle's death. He

must go back by to-night's mail train; and perhaps you would

kindly send my sisters home a little earlier, as I think they

would wish to see him.

Your affectionate cousin

F.C. UNDERWOOD.

'His uncle dead without a will! If we had but known!' said Mrs.

Underwood, unguardedly.

'Insolvent, depend on it,' growled Sir Adrian, fitting on the

consequence so that Cherry felt an uncontrollable impulse to giggle,

and was glad to be sunk in the depths of a huge chair.

She was startled by Alda's answering rather fretfully, 'I don't see

why--he was very rich.'

'The more reason. It is always the way with those Yankees.'

Mrs. Underwood took on herself to defend the solidity of the Travis

interest as an article of her husband's belief; Wilmet and Cherry

longed to change the conversation, but neither knew how; and it was Sir

Adrian who found a fresh subject at last, on which the others willingly

rode off.

They begged to have the carriage ordered at nine, and bade good-bye to

Lady Vanderkist, who had good taste enough not to make another remark

after the first into which she had been betrayed.

Marilda, however, did. 'Tell him I hope it is all right, and that I

congratulate him with all my heart,' she said; and she looked as if she

could have said more.

Perhaps Wilmet and Cherry were not sorry that Stella's being seated

between them prevented discussion on the difference patience and

constancy might have made. Wilmet, with her love for her sister, and

recollection of that conjugal interpellation, might regret; while

Geraldine, less prejudiced, felt that Ferdinand could hardly be pitied

for the test that had spared him a wife with whom he could have so

little in common; but both felt the contrast when they were met by

Ferdinand, whose countenance, though not intellectual, was singularly

noble, and full of a grand melancholy sweetness according with the

regular outline and dark olive colouring, while the gentleness of his

tone was not the conventional politeness of society, but somewhat of

the old Spaniard enhanced by Christian grace.

For all that had come and gone, they were more comfortable with him now

than when he had been Alda's exclusive property, and what was wanting

in love had been made up in jealousy; but he was very low and sad; he

had not come to the point of ceasing to regret Alda, and his native

inertness shrank from the trouble and turmoil before him, when he

had nothing to make riches valuable to him, and could not bear to be

wrenched from the shadow of St. Matthew's, and tossed he knew not where

in the West, among strangers and worse than strangers. But after all,

the home party were soon caring most of all about their concert.

The St Oswald's Choral Society did in fact give a concert every year,

but in a very quiet way, aiming only at covering their own expenses,

and seeking for no extraneous aid; but this was to be an affair on

a very different scale. It had grown up no one knew how, under the

influence of Mr. Flowerdew, and of two Miss Birkets, daughters of

a gentleman who lived out of the town but in the parish. They were

enthusiastic young ladies, about thirty years old, who had been enough

at Minsterham to have known 'little Underwood' in his glory there, and

to take him up with all their might when they found him with renovated

powers in the choral society.

He was 'little Underwood' still, and perhaps would always be so, for

in spite of the start of growth he had so eagerly hailed, he would

never be tall, but the slenderness of his bones, hands, feet, and

general frame, made him look neatly and well made; and he was what

every one called, very gentleman-like in appearance. His face had

not the beauty of some of the others, the colouring was pale, and

there was nothing to catch the eye, till it lighted up into mirth or

sweetness; and his manners, from their perfect simplicity and absence

of self-consciousness, were always engaging. He was either a cypher, or

else he had an inexpressible charm about him. When his violin-playing

powers were discovered, the ladies made a point of getting up a piece

on the piano in which he was to accompany them, and a prodigious

quantity of practice it took. Lance had to walk over to them at least

two afternoons in a week. Felix looked on it as patronage, and could

not think how he could bear it; but Lance was too simple to perceive

patronizing--a petticoat was always a petticoat to him, and a little

lingering chatter in their drawing-room was his delight, a few friendly

words over the counter enslaved him.

Those holidays came, as Felix well knew, much too often; and if he

tried to keep the balance true by tenders of the like liberty to Ernest

Lamb, Lance proved to have left his head behind him, and made mistakes,

or still worse was guilty of neglects. When called to account, partly

from pre-occupation, partly from easiness of temper, he really seemed

incapable of taking a reproof, or understanding the enormity of his

errors. Had these been the days of Redstone, there must have been an

explosion; but young Lamb was one of those whom Lance unconsciously

fascinated, and being used to sparing him in the early days when he

was scarcely more than a convalescent, the good plodding lad took it

for granted that the unmusical should set the musical free, toiled

quietly after him to rectify his mistakes, was absolutely amazed when

Mr. Underwood apologized to him for the unequal weight resting on his

honest shoulders, and was by far the most shocked and distressed when

at last the value of some careless piece of damage was imposed as a

fine. Indeed, Lance viewed this as expiation, troubled his head no more

about the matter, and was in far too transcendent a state to perceive

that he was Felix's daily worry, provocation, and disappointment.

There was the hope that it would be only for a time, and that it

would blow over the sooner that nothing was heard of Edgar or his

stars. Lance was indeed so radiantly happy, that it was only when he

was doing something very provoking indeed that it was possible to be

displeased with him, and not even to Geraldine would Felix whisper the

heart-sickening misgivings that came over him when he found himself

experiencing exactly what Kedge and Underwood had gone through from

Edgar.

The concert was to be just within the Christmas vacations, so that the

performers would include Clement, and the audience Robina and Angela,

besides William Harewood, who was to bring his sisters over. It was

delicious to hear Lance's demands upon Wilmet, in his ecstasy at being

once more with his own beloved Minsterham choir. And Wilmet's soft spot

was Minsterham, as the rogue knew.

'Train comes in at five eleven. I say, Mettie, our fellows must come

here before they go to tune up.'

'My dear Lance, there are five-and-thirty of them at least! It is quite

impossible! Why they couldn't sit down!'

Lance whistled. 'I must have little Graeme, Mettie, the little chap has

never been here.'

'Poor little Dick! Well I don't mind him.'

'And if he comes, he must bring little George Lee--he's only seven, and

not fit to knock about with men and all.'

'Very well.'

'No more is his fellow--that mite of a Bennett that is come instead of

Harewood. His brother was an uncommon good friend to me when I was a

little squeaking treble.'

Wilmet swallowed the mite of a Bennett.

'And Poulter! You remember Poulter, surely, Wilmet.'

'Who used to come twice a day to ask after you. Yes, we must have him.'

'Then there's Oliver--our big bass! Oh! you must remember old Oliver

with that grizzly beard, coming in and carrying me out like a baby the

first day I went into the avenue.'

'That good-natured old man--only I should think he would be happier

among his friends.'

'And Mr. Miles--'

'Really, Lance, I don't think Mr. Miles would wish to come.'

'Oh, you're afraid Jack will be jealous!--You know, Cherry, Miles was

almost caught, he had the slyest little flirtation with Mettie when

they thought I was asleep or delirious or something--'

'Delirious indeed to think so,' interrupted Wilmet indignantly; but

Lance went on unheeding,

'And if the engineer hadn't been the sharpest, who knows if she

wouldn't have got permanent lodgings in the organ gallery? and now you

see she thinks poor Miles's heart is in such a state that she can't

venture to let him come!'

'Ah!' said Cherry, gravely taking up the cue, and much amused at

Wilmet's indignant blushes and innocent amazement. 'I've always

understood that things go very deep with those sort of misogynists,

when once they begin.'

'Now, Cherry, I didn't expect such nonsense in you!' exclaimed Wilmet.

'Mr. Miles is extremely welcome--just as any of Lance's friends are.'

'There, Lance,' laughed Cherry, 'there goes the wedge! Dick Graeme was

the small end, then came the two little trebles, then the two basses,

and now Mr. Miles himself and any of your friends. And I imagine all

the five-and-thirty are your particular friends.'

'Why, all that are coming--except Rooke and Higgins, and they always

were disgusting little cads, only one couldn't leave them out by

themselves, as they would be eating dirt some way and getting not fit

to sing; Rooke's got my part now--I always used to be the lady when

there was any spooning going on out of an opera! and if we don't take

them in hand they'll go and stuff themselves with pastry, and wash it

down with cherry brandy, and won't be good for anything.'

'But there must be some senior to keep them in order.'

'Oh! there's Black, but he will go to his cousin's in Long Street, and

Charlie Harris, but he was next to me. If any one comes, Charlie must.'

'My dear, how many are there to come?'

'Well! four of the little chaps will be away for the holidays, and it

is only six of the lay-vicars that ever do come out, and two of them

have friends here, so it is only two more of them besides Mr. Miles,

and but five more boys. Really, Wilmet, I know Mr. Miles and the

Precentor would be for ever obliged, there's nothing they hate so much

for us as knocking about hotels, and that's why we hardly ever went to

any but private concerts.'

'Well, every one was so very kind last year, we do owe some return. I

will see what Felix thinks.'

Felix, so far as he had time to think at all, was sure to be on the

hospitable side, so that ended by a provision of cold meat and tea and

coffee on the back-room table, and permission to Lance to bring in and

feed whomsoever he pleased. After the concert, a regular supper was

provided in the school for all the performers, and Wilmet was released

from all concern except with stray womankind who might want shelter

till the mail train.

The excitement went on increasing. To use Lance's expression, the

tickets went off like wild-fire; Marilda took a large allowance for her

servants and dependants.

The type of the programmes was all set up, and Lance had proudly

carried the proof round the house, when a note arrived from Edgar.

'Prebels consent to come and give three National Magyar airs,

expenses being paid. Engage rooms for them at the F.A. I trust

this is in time to draw. I shall come down with them.'

T.E.U.

Here were the stars, after all! Lance crushed up his proof and played

at ball with it in his ecstasy; and Felix--for all the trouble it gave

him--was carried along and not much less delighted, as he sent Clement

up to Mr. Flowerdew with the intelligence.

The brother and sister M. Stanislas and Mlle. Zoraya Prebel were not

exactly in the first ranks of public singers, but were rated highly,

and their fame, when making the round of the provinces with a company

who performed varieties of characteristic national music, had been

quite enough to fire the souls of Bexley with ardour; nor did Felix

murmur, although he had to stay away from the final choral society's

rehearsal to provide for the programmes and hand-bills, without which

the attraction of Mlle. Zoraya would remain unknown to the public. Time

to put it into the Pursuivant would have made all the difference!

But on that last supreme day, the excitement was such, that anybody was

willing to do anything. Felix could do little but explain to people

where their seats would be on the map of the town hall spread on the

counter, and answer their questions about the Zoraya; Wilmet was over

head and ears on her preparations for her entertainment, and would

have been unable to get any help in laying out her table but Cherry's

if Marilda had not come in to see what was going on, thrown herself

into the business with zeal and promptitude, sent back to Centry for a

supply of flowers, knives and forks, and done the work of half a dozen

parlour-maids. Stella was obediently keeping Theodore out of mischief;

and the other two girls were, with Bill Harewood, assisting a select

party in decorating the town hall with evergreens; and Clement, who had

to his dismay found a whole part made over to him by a young Bruce, who

had an inopportune cold, was practising hard at the old piano (which,

by-the-by, Lance had learned to tune); Mr. Flowerdew and the manager

were catching the doubtful and putting them through their performances;

and little Lightfoot was only preserved by his natural stolidity from

utter distraction among the hundred different ways he was ordered at

once. As for Lance, he tried to help every one, was too excited to keep

at anything, and was usually scolded off from whatever he attempted

till at last he shut himself up in the barrack with his violin, and

practised till he was so desperate at the sense of his failures,

that when Bill Harewood came in search of him, he was, as he mildly

expressed it, hesitating whether to hang himself like Dirk Hatteraick

on the beam.

'Well, come down, here's Miles as savage as a bear with a sore

head--vows that he was very near turning back again when he saw your

rose-coloured placard of the Zoraya at the station.'

'If he's sulky, that is a go!' exclaimed Lance, with a look of

consternation, utterly overpowering his stage fright. 'Do you remember

his putting us all out at the Deanery, because Miss Evans affronted

him?'

'Well do I remember it! He boxed my ears for it so that they sung for a

week!'

And the two ex-choristers went down, feeling much as when an anthem had

gone wrong. The room was pretty well filled with their old comrades,

but Lance only went from one to the other quietly shaking hands, and

quaking for the future as he heard the organist thundering away to

Wilmet and Cherry.

He hated singing women some degrees more than the rest of their sex,

and above all Italian singing women, who never appreciated Handel.

Cherry ventured to suggest that the lady was not Italian, but, if

anything, Hungarian.

'Madam,' he answered in Johnsonian wrath, 'she is cosmopolitan, that is

to say a half breed or quarter breed of everything, with neither home,

nation, nor faith!'

'Do you know anything against her?' gravely asked Wilmet, with a view

to the possible contingency of being desired to call upon her.

'I know enough in knowing her to be a second-rate _prima donna_. Faugh!

Now and then comes a first-rate one who can't help it, and is as meek

and simple as you might be; but when this sort of woman comes down as a

favour, I know what that means! Who is to pay the debt you'll have?'

'They come for their expenses.'

He held up his hands. 'I'd ten times rather she came at a hundred

guineas a night! Then you'd know what to be at! Whose doing is it?'

'My brother Edgar's.'

'Then I hope he is prepared to pay for it. That is, if she comes at

all. You'll have a telegram to say she has a cold, and who is to

announce it to an indignant audience?'

'I think you had better, Mr. Miles,' said Cherry daringly, 'for you

will congratulate them upon it.'

'Isn't his face a caution?' whispered Bill to Lance. 'He never got such

sauce before.'

'He likes it,' returned Lance, triumphantly rubbing his hands. 'Cherry

could come over Pluto himself!'

And in effect, the lively gracious tongue of the one sister, and the

calm beauty of the other, were producing a wonderful placability and

good-humour; the lads who were feeding by relays in the back room

ventured to talk and laugh above their breath, and the only fear was

of a relapse when Marilda's carriage, with Mr. and Mrs. Spooner in it,

called for Cherry, and the fascination had to be removed.

Lance was as much delighted to walk down with the choir, though he

sorely missed his cap and gown, as was Will to go, as he said, like

a gentleman, the only one except little Bernard available to escort

the ladies. Robin was quite content, as he took to himself all the

honour and glory of representing his brother, and giving an arm to

the belle of the room, as he persisted in declaring Wilmet, though to

well accustomed Bexley eyes, she was much more likely to appear as the

school teacher.

They were a merry little snug party, those four sisters behind, with

the three Harewoods; only Wilmet was rather scandalised by the titter

of Grace and Lucy in their delight at being relieved from Mr. Miles's

presence; and their excitement about Edgar, whom they viewed as the

most beautiful vision that had ever dawned on them. Vain were Wilmet's

endeavours to keep them in order by stern repressions of her own

comparatively unoffending sisters, who had little attention to spare

for nonsense, since Robina's whole soul was set on Lance's enjoying and

distinguishing himself, and Angela was in an absolutely painful state

of tension with expectation and anxiety for the star's appearance and

Mr. Miles's temper.

Presently, after long waiting, there was a look of sensation and

eagerness, and Felix, who had been detained to the last moment, came

edging himself through the lines of chairs, his whiskers in their best

curl, and his hair shining, to exchange a word with his outermost

sister, who chanced to be Robin.

'All right, if the train is not late. Edgar has telegraphed. Is Cherry

comfortable? I couldn't get away before. There's not a ticket left.'

Happy those that caught the whisper as Felix made his way up the lane,

and was admitted through the orchestra; but there was still delay

enough to allow some impatient stamping of feet to begin before the

revolution in the programme could be settled which was to give these

erratic meteors time to appear. Then at last came the overture, and

the concert took its course. There was no doubt that Mr. Miles was

accompanying in his best style; Angela was soon far too blissful for

personal anxieties; but it was a great comfort to the sisters to be

secure that all was right, when not only the three brothers--of whom

they had seen and heard their share in the sacred part--but Edgar came

forward. Any sisters might be proud of four such brothers--so bright,

so straight, so strong and fair; Edgar, with his fine robust figure and

silky beard, giving them altogether a distinguished look and character,

though Clement's head was a little the highest, and Lance's voice was

the sweetest and most remarkable in power and expression; but all were

in wonderful accord and harmony. Any other audience would have encored

the performance as something rare and exquisite; but the Underwood

brothers and their glees were rather stock pieces at Bexley, and people

wanted something new.

Lance's performance with the Miss Birkets was very correct, but not

of the style calculated to produce any very lively sentiments among

the uninitiated audience, who were on the tip-toe of expectation of

the lady whose arrival had been notified in whispers, and hardly fully

appreciating the best that either their own powers or the Minsterham

choir could produce. The first part went by without her; and in the

interval came hope in the shape of Lance, who made an incursion to

ask his sisters how they liked it, and to impart that the Zoraya was

safe come, but was supposed to be dressing. 'Mr. Miles said she would

be dressing till midnight, and would be less worth hearing then than

a decently trained choir-boy. But he's not sulky, after all; yet,'

added Lance, with a look of brightness in his face, 'fancy his telling

Fee that I played that remarkably well just now--truth and taste, he

said--the old villain--only that the ladies would spoil my time if I

didn't take care. And there's a sallow-faced fellow come down with

Mademoiselle, who said it wasn't bad either!'

No wonder Lance was exalted; and he required equal admiration for all

his favourites, until he had to hurry back again.

A little of what seemed to the excited commonplace--then came the event

of the evening. The glistening silken lady, with a flashing emerald

spray in her dark hair, lustrous eyes of a colour respecting which no

two persons in the room agreed, and a face of brilliant beauty, was

led bowing forward, and her notes, birdlike, fresh, and clear, rang

through the room, her brother accompanying her. It was a strong clear

voice, and the language and air being alike new, entranced every one;

the applause was vehement, the encoring almost passionate; but the

lady would not be encored, she gave them two songs alone, one with her

brother, accompanied this time by Lance's 'sallow-faced fellow;' and

though she smiled and curtsied graciously, was not to be induced to

repeat herself.

It seemed to Robina as if the lady herself and the whole public had

taken a great deal of trouble for a very brief matter; but she found it

was rank treason to say so, when at the conclusion of the whole, those

faithful brothers hurried down each to pick up a sister and bestow her

safely at home before repairing to the Fortinbras Arms for the great

supper to the Minsterham choir. The Bexley public had been favoured

beyond all desert or reason; the newness of the airs had been a perfect

revelation to Lance's ears, and he was very angry with Clement for

being disappointed, and repeating Mr. Miles's judgment that there was

lack both of science in the singing and of sweetness in the voice.

Altogether the evening had been a great success; every one was

delighted with every one else, and the supper was not the least

charming part, preceded as it was by Lance's bringing the little seven

years old choir boy, half asleep, ready to cry and quite worn out, and

putting him under Wilmet's care. He had half his night's rest out on

the sofa before he was picked up in the kindly arms of the big bass and

carried off to the mail train. Lance seemed much disposed to go with

them by mistake; indeed, he was only withheld from accompanying them to

the station by Felix reminding him rather sharply that someone must be

kept sitting up for him.

It was over, and the morning began with Felix standing straight up in

the office, master now rather than brother, and gravely saying, 'Now,

Lance, that this excitement is at an end, I shall expect attention and

punctuality, and shall excuse no more neglects. Take this invoice, and

overlook the unpacking of those goods.'

'Yes, sir.' Lance wriggled his shoulders feeling intensely weary of

such tasks; and as he stood, paper in hand, still he partly whistled,

partly hummed the Hungarian air, till the foreman came out of the

printing-house, saying, 'Mr. Lancelot, I should be much obliged if you

would desist. It distracts the young men.'

Of course Lance bothered the young men, but desisted whenever he

recollected it, and then inly bemoaned the having passed a light-house

of anticipation, and having before him only a dreary irksome twilight

waste.

Edgar had not been seen that morning, except to leave word that he

meant to breakfast with his friends at the Fortinbras Arms; but at

the dinner hour he looked into the office, and saying, 'You are at

liberty, Lance, I want you,' carried him off, Felix knew not why nor

where, and had no time to ask, even when Lance came back, and this was

not till past two, with the shop overflowing, and customers waiting

to be attended to. It was one of those times when gossipry was rife,

and the master had to stand talking, talking, while his assistants had

more than enough on their hands with the real purchasers, a division of

labour that usually came naturally, but to which Lance was evidently

not conforming himself as usual; and at last Felix heard him absolutely

denying that certain blotting-blocks ever had been, would, or could be

made, and had to turn hastily to the rescue and undertake that they

should be forthcoming by the next week. Also two orders proved to have

been left not entered, and therefore not attended to, and Felix was

thoroughly roused into vexation and anger. As soon as the last hurried

customers had come and gone, while Stubbs and Lightfoot were closing

the shutters, he again summoned Lance with, 'This will not do, Lance.

Your ignorance and laziness are not to be the limit of people's wants,

and I will not have my customers neglected. I have had patience with

you all through this business, and that good fellow Lamb has shown

forbearance that amazes me, but it must go on no longer. Things cannot

be done by halves. Either you must turn over a new leaf, and give your

mind to the business, or you must give it up, and look out for some

other employment.'

'You wish me to give it up?' mumbled Lance, in a voice that sounded

sullen.

'You are going the way to make me do so.'

'You don't want me? Very well.'

'Stay, Lance,' said Felix, whose reproofs had never before been

received by Lance in this manner, 'I wish you to understand. You

offered your services under a generous impulse last year, when I was

overdone and perplexed; but I doubted then if it were not a mistake.

You had come to be very valuable, more so than any mere hireling could

be, and I am very thankful to you; but if you are to be like what you

have been for a month past, you are doing some harm to the business and

a great deal to yourself; and you had better choose some line that you

can be hearty in.'

'Could you afford it, Felix?'

'I must afford it! Such work as yours has been of late is the most

expensive of all. Eh!' rather startled; 'have you anything in your

head?'

'I hardly know.'

A message came in at the moment, and by the time Felix had answered it,

Lance had vanished, rather to his vexation and uneasiness. He went up

to supper, the first family meeting where there had been time to talk

over the humours of the day before. Edgar was full of fun; and the

report Cherry had been writing for the Pursuivant was read aloud in the

family conclave, and freely canvassed, but Lance, though he put in a

word or two here and there, was much quieter than usual; and when all

the others moved back into the drawing-room, he touched Robina's arm,

and kept her with him in the dark room.

'What should you say, Bob, if I got out of it all?' was his first word.

'Out of it all!'

'Ay. Felix thinks me no loss, and I've got a chance.'

'Oh!' a long interrogative not well pleased sound it was, not answered

at once; and Robina added, 'Does Mr. Miles want an assistant?'

''Tisn't that sort. You saw the gentleman that came down with Edgar and

the Hungarians?'

'Yes, his name is Allen, he is manager of the National Minstrelsy,'

Edgar said.

'Just so. He has got a lease of a concert-room in town, and he would

give me five pounds a week to sing two nights a week through the

season!'

'Lance!' Robina could only stand breathless.

'I'll tell you all about it. You know Edgar came and called me just at

dinner-time.'

'I know, and Felix got no dinner at all except a sandwich that Wilmet

sent down.'

'Well, that was his own fault. However, there they were at the

Fortinbras Arms, in the best blue room, just come down to breakfast.'

'Who? The Hungarians?'

'Yes. Mr. Allen and M. Prebel were waiting for the lady, to ring and

have the hot things up. What a stunner she is, to be sure! the finest

woman I ever saw in my life, and such pretty ways when she can't find

an English word, I should think a queen must be just like her.'

'Yes, if she is waited for in that way. Did you get anything to eat,

then, Lance?'

'Didn't we, though? Why, they had asked us to breakfast; and such a

breakfast I never set eyes on--devilled kidneys, and pie with truffles

in it, and pine-apple jam--and wine! They asked for wines that Reid the

waiter had never heard of--nor, it is my belief, Mr. Jones either.'

'But is this all to come out of their expenses that are paid for them?'

'You're getting like W.W., I declare, Bobbie. I never thought of that;

but I'll go up to Reid, and find out the worth of my own share, and

wipe that out. Well, they were uncommonly kind and civil. Edgar's quite

at home with them, you know; talks French like a house on fire, or

German--I don't know which it was, but she made it sound as pretty as

could be, and I should soon pick it up. I had no notion what they were

at, but Edgar said she wanted to hear me sing that song of Sullivan's

again, and I could not help doing it; and then she smiled and bowed and

thanked, and Mr. Allen made remarks, about my wanting lightness and

style, said it came of singing too much cathedral music.'

'O Lance, wasn't that like the Little Master saying Montjoie St.

Denis?'

'Nonsense! He's no more like the Little Master than you are; Edgar says

he's as respectable as Old Time, and has got a little mouse of a wife

as good as gold. But he does want a high tenor to sing his English

ballads, and he'll give me this, with chances to sing at private

concerts, and opportunities of getting lessons on the violin. Think of

that, you solemn bird, you.'

'Where would you live?'

'With Edgar. Then I could make up the difference to Fee; and what I

could save, with Edgar's picture, will take us to Italy. And there I

could get finished up first-rate.'

'You've not settled it so?'

'Why, no. The first thing that struck me was that it was awfully cool

by Felix, to say all this without notice to him, and I told them as

much; but then they said they didn't want to inconvenience Felix, and

wouldn't want me till March.'

'Just as if you were his servant.'

'In that light, so I am.'

'You don't really think of doing it, Lance?'

'I don't mean one thing or the other yet, Robin! Here's Felix one side

telling us that he's very much obliged to me, but I am worse than no

use at all; and Edgar and this Allen on the other, saying that here's

the line that I am cut out for.'

'But Felix can only mean when you are gone mad after the concert.'

'And who is to help getting mad, when their life is all dulness and

botheration? Edgar told me it would be so--and now Felix himself

declares it was a mistake my ever working here.'

'Felix must have been terribly displeased, to say so.'

'I believe he was indeed! but I couldn't help it. How can one mind

foolscap and satin wove, and all the rest of it, when there are such

glorious things beyond?'

'O Lance, I never heard you say "couldn't help it" before!'

'Now, Robin, say in three words. Do you want me to be a mere

counter-jumper all my life?'

'O Lance--don't.'

'There, you see what you really feel about it. Now--without coming to

such a point as Sims Reeves, or Joachim, or--' (and Lance's face was

full of infinite possibility), 'I could with the most ordinary luck

get up high enough to have a handsome maintenance; and at any rate, I

should live with what is life to me--have time to study the science--be

a composer, maybe--and get into a society that is not all inferior. I

hate the isolation we live in here--not a real lady out of one's own

family to be friendly with one.'

'But I don't think ladies are so with musical people.'

'Maybe not, but they are a strong, cultivated, refined society of their

own, able to take care of themselves. What now, Robin, can't you speak?

What is it now?'

'I was only thinking of what you said last time Edgar asked you.'

'I hadn't seen London then, I knew nothing about it. The very Sundays

there are different things from what they are in this deadly lively

place.'

'That's as you make them. Besides, that makes no difference as to that

other thing you said.'

'What?' (A little crossly.)

'About the cathedral and the stage,' whispered Robina, hanging her head.

'One doesn't want all that one ever said when one was a high-flown ass

to be thrown in one's teeth,' said Lance, angrily.

'Oh!' but otherwise Robina held her tongue.

Presently Lance began again persuasively. 'You see this is only

training, after all, Bobbie; I may take to sacred music, oratorios or

anything else, when once I have got thoroughly taught; and I can only

do that by living on my own voice. I must lay by enough to take me to

Italy, and when I have learnt there, then I can turn to anything.'

'Do you think you ever would lay by?'

That was rather a cutting question, for Lance, though never in debt,

never could keep a sixpence in his pocket.

'I could if I had a real object.'

'Only I don't think it would wholly depend on yourself,' said sensible

Robina. 'I suppose they don't pay by the week; and then if the concern

should not answer?

'That's sheer impossibility. There isn't a safer man in London than

Allen. It is a much more profitable investment than old Pur.'

'Then if you lived with Edgar, you don't know how much you might have

to go shares for.'

Thereupon Lance broke out into absolute anger against Robina for her

unkindness to Edgar, talking much of the want of charity of people who

lived at home, and thought everything beyond their ken must be wicked.

She ventured to ask what Felix thought of it, and was told in return

that Felix was not only not his father, but though the best fellow in

the world, had no more knowledge of it than a child in petticoats. It

was for the good of Felix, and everyone else, that they should not all

hang about at home in the stodge and mire.

How long this might have gone on there is no saying, but Felix's voice

was heard calling to them in preparation for evening prayers. When

Robina heard Lance's voice rise in all its sweetness in the Evening

Hymn, her heart was so full of yearning pain and disappointment, that

she could hardly hold back her tears till she could kneel and hide her

face in her hands.

She had this comfort. She did not understand from Lance that he had

accepted, and he certainly did not join Edgar that night in the

kitchen, but, saying he was tired out, he went at once to bed.

On Saturday she had not one private moment with him, but on the other

hand, neither she hoped had Edgar; for the work both of the press and

of the shop happened to be unusually heavy, and neither he nor Felix

had a moment to spare; and Edgar spent the evening with some friends in

the town.

Sunday afternoon, the family hour for walks and talks, poured with

rain, and thereby was favourable to letters to Fulbert. Indeed,

Angela's commencement of some sacred music was stopped, by the general

voice entreating her to wait till the letters were finished. Lance, who

never wrote to anybody but Fulbert, had resumed the practice ever since

he had received an affectionate letter called forth by his illness, and

was now busy with his little blotty portfolio; while Robina, having no

Sunday correspondent, was half reading, half watching Stella explaining

pictures to Theodore.

Presently Lance stretched across, and silently put a sheet of

note-paper into her lap, hushing her by a sign. It had been begun in

his best hand, and it must be confessed that that hand was at present a

scratchy one, and there were various erasures.

DEAR SIR,

I have done my best to consider your kind and flattering

proposal, and have come to the conclusion that for the present

it will be better for me to continue where I am. There will

thus be no need to apply to my eldest brother.

With my respectful thanks,

Yours faithfully,

LANCELOT O. UNDERWOOD.

Robina made a little pantomime of clapping her hands, for which

Lance did not appear to thank her, but still in dumb show required

her judgment on the choice of several words. She mutely marked her

preference, and he returned to his place and copied it. Still he had

not addressed the letter. He put it into his pocket, with a significant

smile at his sister. Evening came, late service, supper; still it was

in his pocket till the moment of bed-time, and then it was that Robina

saw him linger with Edgar, and went to her room with a heart full of

trembling prayer.

'Edgar,' as his brother arrived in the kitchen, and prepared his pipe,

'how shall I address this?'

'Eh! you needn't be in too great a haste. We had better break it to

poor old Blunderbore first.'

'There's no breaking in the case. I'm not going.'

'Ah! I knew how it would be when you began running about to all the

womankind in the house.'

'I've not spoken to a soul but Bobbie,' said Lance rather hotly, as

Edgar laughed.

'Then one was enough to do your business?'

'I only spoke to her to clear my own mind.'

'Ay, to get someone to contemplate Hercules between Vice and Virtue;

but it won't do, my boy. Little Allen is as virtuous as Felix himself,

and the choice is simply between the thing you can do and the thing you

can't.'

'I can do my duty here,' said Lance bluntly.

'You've tried, my boy; you made a gallant effort, and I let you alone

while you had a head to be spared, but 'tis no good trying to force the

course of the stream, and you had better break loose, before you get

too old for the real thing that you are made for.'

'No, Edgar, I've thought it over, and found out how things stand. Here

will Felix begin now to have more on his hands, and can manage to shell

out less than ever while he had Froggy to fall back on. Now, not only

is my nominal salary much less than he could offer a stranger, but half

of it goes back into the housekeeping, while I'm _done for_ at home,

and I don't see how he could meet the difference just now.'

'Whew! that's the blind way you all go on, putting the present before

the future. If Felix had a grain of spirit, he would revolt at preying

on your flesh and blood. Flesh and blood--why, its genius and spirit

crushed up in this hole!'

'It is no more than all of us have done by him, ever since he was of my

size.'

'But it is so short-sighted, Lance. You could make it up to him so

soon. Five pounds for certain the week--and possibilities, remember.

You'll lodge with me--that's nothing; and for the rest, you'll soon

live as we do--like the birds of the air.'

'I couldn't make it up to him, and save for Italy; besides I should be

earning nothing there.'

'But I should! Copying is a certain trade. Come now, Lance, you've

taken some panic. Tell me what is at the bottom of it! Have they been

warning you against us wicked Bohemians?'

'They? Nonsense!'

'_She_, then?'

'It is nothing at all that Robina said.'

'Come, make a clean breast. What lies at the bottom of this absurd

rejection of the best offer you'll ever have in your life?'

Edgar took the pipe out of his mouth, that the smoke might not obscure

his view of the young face whose brow was resting on an arm leant on

the mantel-piece, and the eyes far away. 'What's the bugbear? and I'll

clear it up.'

'No bugbear.'

'You don't trust me. Eh? Is that it? Have they told you I mean to prey

on your innocence?'

'No, indeed, Edgar!'

'Are you afraid of the great and wicked world? I thought you'd more

spirit than that; and I've always told you, you might run after as many

churches as you chose. I'd never hinder you. Come, have it out, Lance,

you think me a corrupter of your artless youth?'

'No!'

'Come, out with it. What has turned you?'

The answer came at last in his low clear voice, speaking more into the

fire than to Edgar, the eyes still fixed and far away--'"And here we

offer and present unto Thee ourselves, our souls and bodies, to be a

reasonable, holy, and lively sacrifice."'

'What do you mean? what's that?' said Edgar, half startled, half angry.

'It comes after the Holy Communion,' said Lance, quite as much shocked

by the novelty with which the familiar sound struck on his brother's

ears.

'Oh! a pious utterance that only a _tête exaltée_ takes literally.'

'I should not join in it if I didn't mean it,' muttered Lance, in the

most brief matter-of-fact way.

'Then why aren't you living barefoot on bread and water in a hermitage?'

'Because that's not my duty. It would not be reasonable.'

'There's great force in that word,' began Edgar, with a little scoff in

his tone, but altering it into one of more earnestness. 'Now, Lance,

I want to understand your point of view. How does that formula hinder

you?'

'Because,' said Lance, much against his will, 'it wouldn't be making my

soul and body a reasonable sacrifice, to turn the training I had for

God's praise into singing love songs to get money and fame.'

'Why do you assume that beauty and delight of any sort is not just as

pleasing to God as your chants and anthems?'

'No. One is offered to Him, the other is mere entertainment.'

'So is the first to most folks. Now, you boy, honestly, do you mean

that it is not much of a muchness with sacred and profane, so far as

motive goes?'

'It is what I am always trying that it should be,' said Lance.

'Only trying?'

'Only trying.'

'And you consider yourself to be this sacrifice, this victim, by

singing in a surplice for ladies to whisper about, instead of getting

trained to interpret--nay, what I do say! maybe, compose--the grandest

human music. You've got it in you, my boy.'

'You may say what you please,' said Lance, turning away to the fire.

'I don't want to vex you, boy, I only want to make it out. I see the

_sacrifice_.'

'It was my own fault for saying a word about it to you,' muttered Lance.

'But I don't see the sense of it,' proceeded Edgar, 'or what it is but

your own fancy that puts the one thing up in the heights, the other

down in the depths.'

'You must know that,' said Lance, 'the fever and transport that comes

of one kind of music has nothing good in it.'

'That's the question.'

'I know it has not for me.'

'And has the other?'

'Of course it has! Besides, I don't do it for myself. Come, Edgar, tell

me how to direct that letter, and let me go.'

'You may leave it till I go to town.'

'That would not be fair. He will want to look out for someone else.

Tell me!'

'Not I! I'm not going to let you make a fool of yourself in a fit of

religious excitement.'

Lance smiled. 'Much excitement in a cold dark church in a wet morning,

with not twenty people there.'

'That's as you work yourself up. Here, sit down and take the other

pipe.'

'I can't; I can hardly stand yours, my head is raging!'

'Oh! that accounts for it! Go off to bed, and wake in week-day senses.'

'I wish you'd let me have done with it,' sighed Lance; but Edgar shook

his head with, 'All for your good, my dear fellow!'

'If Balak's messengers _will_ stay the night, it is not my doing,' said

Lance to himself, as he wearily mounted the stairs to his sleepless bed

in the barrack; for though his headaches had become much less frequent

and disabling, still his constitution was so sensitive, that a course

of disturbed nights always followed any excitement; and thus the morrow

found him dull and confused enough to render his attempts at diligence

so far from successful, that he was more than once sharply called to

order; and Felix came in at dinner-time, exclaiming, 'I can't think

what's the matter with that boy. He seems as if he would never do any

good again!'

'_Précisément!_' muttered Edgar. 'You had better give him up with a

good grace, as I told you before.'

And being at the moment alone in the room with Felix and Geraldine, he

not only detailed his plans for Lance, but eagerly counselled Felix

to invest at least half Thomas Underwood's legacy in the National

Minstrelsy.

'Really!' said Felix, in a tone of irony, 'this is nearly coming to the

old plan of setting up a family circus! Then it is this that has so

entirely unsettled him?'

'That the old must pass away is not sufficiently appreciated here.'

Then Edgar appealed to Cherry for the charms of artist society, and the

confutation of the delusions respecting it held by Philistines at home,

a conversation only interrupted by the arrival of dinner, and the rest

of the population.

Felix as usual had to go down after a few mouthfuls; Edgar followed him

to say on the stairs, 'I've one piece of advice to give. Remember that

you are an old Philistine giant, and act with due humility.'

'Is he set upon it?'

'I cannot say heart and soul, for heart and what he thinks soul are

pulling opposite ways. I say, Felix, you should take into consideration

the effect on me. I haven't sat still to listen to so much piety since

my father's time; it is a caution to see a little chap so simply

literal.'

Felix could wait no longer. He found Lance alone in the office, resting

his head on his desk. 'You'll be in time for dinner, Lance!'

'Thank you, I'd rather not. Send Stubbs home.'

'Head-ache?'

'Not much now!'

'I'm sorry I was sharp with you this morning, Lance. You should have

told me!'

'It was not worth while, but I did mean to have done better to-day,

Felix!'

'I believe you did. If you think it will set you to rights, I would let

you off this afternoon.'

'No, thank you; it is getting better.'

Felix looked at him a moment or two, then said, 'Edgar tells me he has

been talking to you.'

'Yes. I hope you have given him a settler, Felix.'

'Have you?'

'I tried, but he would not take it. He thought it was only Sunday.'

'Only Sunday!'

'That made me sure it would not do.'

'You are quite right, Lance. So far as it depends on me, I should have

done all in my power to keep you from what cannot but be a life of much

temptation, and I am thankful that you have decided it for yourself.

You are really content to stay here with me?'

'Content--well, not just now; but I shall be again when all the remains

of the bear-fight have subsided,' said Lance. 'I ought and I must, and

that's enough.'

With which words he ran out as some one was heard entering the shop;

and Felix stood for a few moments over the fire, musing on the brave

way in which his young brother had met the enticement, and on the

danger into which his own reproofs, however well-merited, had driven

him.

Lance's other occupation that evening did not make him better pleased

with Edgar's friends. Wilmet had decreed--and he had submitted half

ruefully, half-merrily--that what remained of his salary after his

contribution to the house expenses, should be guarded by her for his

wardrobe, only half-a-crown a week being put into his own hands; and

as this always managed to disappear without much to show for it, she

viewed it as quite enough for waste; and indeed, out of what was in her

keeping she had managed to provide him with a watch.

With his Monday half-crown, and sixpence besides, he repaired to the

Fortinbras Arms to pay for his share of the notable breakfast; but he

found some demur; Mr. Jones was aghast at his own bill, and really

unwilling to send it in. The private supper, the next day's breakfast,

and all that the party had called for, amounted to what would make a

terrible hole in the receipts of the concert.

As to Lance's paying the fifth part of the _déjeûner_, the landlord

thought it was impossible, and though his three shillings might perhaps

represent the cost of what he had individually consumed, to offer or

accept that was not according to rules. Mr. Jones would gladly have

made this bill his subscription to the organ, if he could but have

afforded the loss; but this, as he told Lance, he could not do. He

listened, however, with a smile of some pity, when Lance assured him

that his own and his brother's shares should be made up; and Lance

picked out the charge, and carried it off to Edgar.

There again he met with no success. Edgar laughed at him, and told

him he did not know the privileges of the artiste; and when Lance

waxed hot, and declared that if the concert paid the expenses of the

two stars themselves, it was a wicked exaction to make it defray the

expenses of either Mr. Allen or their guests, he was answered coolly

that expensive articles must be taken on their own terms, and that

spoiling the Philistines was always fair.

'Then don't you mean to pay, Edgar?'

Edgar gave his foreign shrug, and made a gesture of incapability. He

was vexed with Lance, and at no pains to soften matters.

'Now,' said Lance, with a sort of grave simplicity, 'I understand what

living like birds of the air means.'

Lance went back to Mr. Jones, and told him that the two-fifths of the

breakfast should be paid. And in twelve weeks it was done, But by this

specimen it may be guessed that the new organ was not exactly purchased

by the concert.