CHAPTER XXXVIII.

K. T.

'So black of hue,

With orange tawny Bill.'

_Midsummer Night's Dream._

The town-hall at Ewmouth was a good fifteenth-century building. The

common herd sat on chairs and gazed at the speakers behind the table

on the dais. There were the Lord Lieutenant and the local peer (he

with whom Clement would not dine), Sir Vesey Hammond, and Mr. Welsh,

together with Geraldine's old acquaintance, Lord de Vigny, who was sure

to turn up at every sort of _dilettante_ gathering in the kingdom,

made words on the benefits of local research, and compliments on local

hospitality; and then some wise man gave an excellent compendious

sketch of the history of the city and neighbourhood, notifying the

connection of the spots it was intended to visit, beginning with the

Castle that very afternoon. Meantime there was not much opportunity for

greetings; people were all in rows on the same level, looking into the

fabrics on the crania of their neighbours in front.

'That's the way with ladies,' said William Harewood; 'they'll go

anywhere to see one another's bonnets. That's the real point, whatever

the excuse may be.'

The remark was made in all good humour. Everything had been smooth

all these ten days. Had not Robina copied out his whole essay in her

beautiful clear script, and tied it up with purple ribbons? Had she

not toiled early and late at effective shaded diagrams of his father's

seals? had she not listened intelligently to his own supplemental

lecture on the unconscious poetry those queer devices expressed?

and had she not rescued an important letter of his from the slit in

Clement's S.P.G. box, which he was always taking for the post?

The lecture over, there was a dispersion to lunch at various houses or

hotels. The Underwoods were of Mrs. Welsh's party, where Geraldine was

made much of under Lady Hammond's kind protection, and Robina remained

in enviable obscurity at a side-table. Lady Hammond's age obliged her

to ascend to the Castle afterwards in her carriage, and she insisted on

taking her lame young friend with her. Every one else walked--Robina

with her brother and Will, for both the Major and his father had fallen

in with old acquaintance and gone their own way.

Other parties debouched from other streets; and as Robina climbed the

Castle hill, she was aware of Lord Ernest de la Poer in the act of

greeting her.

'You here!' she exclaimed.

'I am at Eweford with Milwright.'

'But your reading!'

'Here I am, improving my mind.'

'Hardly in the needful manner.'

'Nay, but why is this holiday month to be all play and no work to every

one but dis here unlucky nigger?'

'You've not earned the right to play.'

'Nor ever shall at home. You know what a farce it is to "call it either

work or play."'

Felix did not wholly like the tone of this dialogue, but just then a

brother of the press entreated a few moments' conversation. It was to

ask for a recommendation, which he was now in a condition to give; and

he was obliged to leave his sister to Will's care, intending speedily

to overtake her.

Meanwhile, Lord Ernest went on, with somewhat less of reserve, 'Now

I put it to you, which is which under the K.T. influence--Greek or

croquet?'

'The last is not her influence.'

'No, nor her nature, but her uncle's drill into complaisance. She is a

victim to filial piety, and drags me to the same shrine.'

'Just what she does not want to do.'

'No, but now you are gone, the games would never end if one didn't get

her through a hoop occasionally.'

Robina averted her head, for there was a general halt and a silence,

and a voice made itself heard, explaining that here was the Roman

masonry.

The Castle was a large place, containing the county hall, and having

likewise a small garrison of artillery to take care of the sea

defences, on which modern science had of late been busy. The lecturer

led his flock literally from pillar to post, stopping to expound all

points of interest, and handing round drawings and photographs. There

was nothing to do but to follow, and hope to fall in with some of the

others. Of Geraldine there was no hope; old Sir Vesey had tucked her

under his vigorous arm as soon as she stepped out of the carriage; Lord

de Vigny had claimed her as an acquaintance, and her lameness gave her

_brevet_ rank for the nonce, for she was thrust into the forefront

among the dames of high estate, and had a near view of everything.

Felix had vanished; and Will, whose arm would have been very convenient

to Robina in the throng, hung a little aloof, wearing an almost

quaintly desperate air of surliness, while Lord Ernest hovered close,

speaking to her at every pause in the lecture.

This uncomfortable trio were far in the rear, and a good deal jostled

about, without very clear ideas where they were going or what they were

seeing. Now it was along a moat; now out on a rampart with a green

slope open to the sea, a very living looking cannon in the embrasures;

now gazing up to a machicolated turret, then dragged up its spiral

stair to be handed out on a leaden roof, and get a grand view, and

a general impression that one of the King Henrys had done something

there; then diving down to a doleful dungeon, where somebody had been

starved to death, but as it was not true, it did not signify who it

was. Such were all the ideas that Robina or either of her cavaliers

could have given of their perambulation of Ewmouth Castle. It was lucky

for the Pursuivant that they were not its caterers.

By the time she had ascended a dusky stair into the great hall of

columns, which had never been a chapel, Robina found that the tour was

ended, and moreover that Will--as well as all the rest--had been lost

in the throng, and that no one was near whom she knew but Ernest de la

Poer.

'I wonder where they all are!'

'We had better stand near the door,' he answered; 'they must pass this

way.'

They waited while the stream of people flowed past; and when an

acquaintance came, who was going to shake hands with Robina's companion

as one of the many brothers, she piteously asked for tidings of her

party.

'I saw Miss Underwood in Lady Hammond's carriage at the other door.'

'That accounts for it,' said Lord Ernest; 'I saw there was an eddy in

the flood. Shall we go across?'

The move was a relief, and Robina hoped to find Felix waiting for

her at the other door, for the hall was emptying fast, and they were

the last to make their exit by the opposite porch. Not only were

the carriages gone, but the foot-passengers; and the policemen were

shutting the doors behind them, so that there was no returning across

the hall.

'I will go round to the High Street again,' said Robina. 'Some of them

will be sure to come back to look for me.'

'Where did you have luncheon? Will not they be there?'

'At Mr. Welsh's; but I don't think we were to go back there. We were

to get in at the inn where the carriage was to be put up, only I don't

know the name of it. My brother drove there after setting us down.'

Lord Ernest applied to a policeman for the name and locality of the

principal stables. 'The Antelope,' he said; but it proved to be in the

opposite direction to Mr. Welsh's, and so distant that Robina doubted

whether Felix could have gone thither. She begged not to delay her

companion; and he answered, as she knew he would, that he was quite

at her service; indeed, she was quite at her ease so far as he was

personally concerned, and if it had been any other town in the kingdom

except perhaps Bexley, Oxford, or Minsterham, she would sooner have

trusted to him in a difficulty than to any one whose name did not end

with wood. He was too considerate to worry her with talking during

the quick walk, and with some difficulty he caught a busy ostler, who

averred that Mr. Underwood's carriage had not been there at all--no,

not the horse, which he knew perfectly well. He evidently thought the

new Squire's family rightly served for deserting their ancient haunt,

and he ran away instead of answering whether there were other yards

nearer Mr. Welsh's.

Nothing remained but to retrace their steps up the steep High Street

that climbed the Castle cliff, meeting many a load of happy people who

had found their carriages. Presently they came full on Mrs. Fulbert

Underwood, who had been one of the callers in the last week, but who

would have passed without recognition, but for Robina's despairing

entreaty, 'Could you tell me where our carriage can be put up?'

'What! Rosina Underwood! I am surprised!'

'I have missed the others in the crowd at the Castle. I thought I

should have met them at the Antelope, but our carriage has not been

there.'

'_We_ always put up at the Antelope,' said Mrs. Underwood; 'there may

be inferior stables, but I do not know them. I have not been to all

this lecturing--I don't like such things for ladies; but I can go round

by Vale Leston, and set you down.'

'No, thank you. I could walk if that were all, only I must find the

others, for they will not go without me.'

'Oh! if you are better off--I did not see that you had a beau. Mr.

Harewood?'

'No,' said Robin, in her fiercest straightforwardness, 'Lord Ernest de

la Poer. You know I am his sisters' governess. He is kindly helping me

to find my brother and sister.'

'Oh! I leave you in good hands. Good-bye. If I meet any of your party,

I will mention that I have seen you.'

Robina had been reddening all the afternoon. She was crimson now, but

she was resolved not to make things worse by visible discomposure.

'Who was that obliging lady?' asked Lord Ernest.

'The last Mr. Underwood's daughter-in-law,' said Robin, so angry as to

disclaim connection as much as possible; 'perhaps one is well off to

have only one odd sort of relation.'

'I see a man who dined with Milwright yesterday,' exclaimed Lord

Ernest. 'He may not be above all inns but the Antelope.'

He charged across the street, and brought back intelligence of a Fox's

Brush in Castle Street, and of a short cut through a narrow alley and

the churchyard; but there seemed risk of another miss, and besides,

something like a waggonette was discerned near the top of the hill. It

proved to be a break full of strangers; and by that time Robina, though

bravely breasting the hill, was so tired and breathless that Lord

Ernest offered his arm, but was refused with a certain weary sharpness.

At last the corner of Castle Street afforded a view of another hopeful

looking vehicle a good way down; and at the same moment, Felix, very

pink, hurried up from one quarter, and Will Harewood, fiery red, dashed

down from another.

Felix had been to the Antelope by the by-street, and had met Mrs.

Fulbert, then had posted after to overtake them; Willie had been all

round the Castle, trying every gate in vain; Mr. Harewood was on the

quest in another direction.

Robina thanked her escort, Felix did so more coldly, Willie gave

a savage little bow, and they parted. Cherry was waiting in the

waggonette, with the Major, who might not be overwalked, sitting on

the box, holding the horse; and as Will was about to plunge after his

father, Cherry called, 'Pray put on your hat! you look like a mad

hatter instead of the March hare.'

'Enough to drive one mad,' muttered Will, sharply, pulling his hat

nearly down to his eye-brows, and disappearing just as his father came

soberly back from inquiry at Mr. Welsh's.

This time it was decided to drive down the High Street--always a slow

operation, since it required a drag; and Felix left the reins in John's

more practised hands, through the difficult navigation. They drew

up at sight of Will in confabulation with Mrs. Fulbert, not much to

the improvement of the serenity of his manner as he bestowed himself

within the vehicle. Geraldine begun taking all the blame on her own bad

chaperonage, and pitying Robina for being heated and tired.

'Well she may!' said Will, 'after galloping all over the place with

that donkey.'

'A four-legged donkey might have been convenient,' said Cherry,

laughing; 'but how came you to be left to him? I thought you safe with

the Squire.'

'The Squire was called off to speak to some one,' said Robina.

'And I am afraid you were remiss, William,' said the Librarian.

'She seemed well satisfied,' he growled.

'I think you forget yourself,' said his father, gravely, as if his

first-class son were still a little boy. The most courteous of men

himself, he was always trying to teach manners to his family, but had

egregiously failed excepting with the Major.

That Robina's adventure was relished by no one, might be gathered from

the fact that none of the five alluded to it, and no objection was

made when she came down the next morning in a stay-at-home garb, and

announced her intention of remaining to assist in preparing for 'the

spread' of Wednesday.

Cherry could not help remembering Wilmet's allegation that Robina was

apt to attach much importance to ordinary attention; but at least if

there were an error, it was on the side of precaution; and Cherry had

so many qualms of conscience at taking her pleasure and devolving the

trouble on Wilmet, that she was glad to leave so effective an assistant.

The day's entertainment was Mr. Harewood's lecture and another in the

morning, and then a sort of picnic at the Roman villa. Lord Ernest

found the Vale Leston party out, and Cherry thought he looked a little

blank; but he took to cultivating her, and in the absence of her

more distinguished cavaliers, made himself very pleasant, though she

discerned that he cared not a rush for its baths and mosaic pavements;

but she liked him so much, and thought him so genuinely kind and

attentive, as to acquit him of all but humane courtesy to his sisters'

governess, only hoping Robina so understood it.

That night Felix was dutifully writing his summary of the proceedings

of the day, when a knock came to his study door, and as his boding soul

anticipated, it was the prelude to Robina's entrance. With a solemn

directness, not unlike that when she had dealt the death-blow to his

early dream, she thus addressed him: 'Brother, are you very busy, or

can you speak to me?'

He felt a cold dismay, and only said, 'Well!'

'It hardly seems right even to tell you, but I have this letter, and I

want you to help me.'

'A letter!'

'Troublesome ass!' was at the tip of his tongue, but he was thankful it

had gone no further, when Robina answered, 'Yes, from Lady de la Poer,

and from Grace. You brought them from the second post.'

'You are in no scrape, I trust?' he said, somewhat relieved, but not

enough for warmth or encouragement.

'Not that I know of,' said Robina, 'though I don't know whether I shall

be able to go back after this.' And the tears came into her eyes.

'And what is _this?_' said Felix. 'Don't be afraid to tell me, my dear;

I know you mean honestly.'

She seemed to have some difficulty in beginning, and finally put a note

with a coroneted cipher into his hand. He read--

MY DEAR MISS UNDERWOOD,

I hope you are in full enjoyment at home. I believe Grace keeps

you fully informed of the doings here, so I will not waste

time over the wherefore of the inquiry I feel constrained to

make--among other reasons, to satisfy myself of the children's

truth. Cecil has told Lady Caergwent, on Susan's authority,

that his brother Ernest told you that K (or C) T were the two

most troublesome letters of the alphabet, an unmitigated bore

except in cricket. As you know, Susan always holds fast to

Cecil; and for their sakes we trust to you to tell us what was

said or misunderstood. We should, of course, apply to Ernest

himself, but he went on Thursday to the Ballford cricket-match,

and we do not know how soon he will return: otherwise I should

not disturb your holiday. Susie and Annie seem lost without

you; and I rather suspect that idleness was in this case the

mother of mischief, though some foundation there must have

been, and I am sure you will let me clearly understand what it

was.

Yours very sincerely,

FRANCES DE LA POER.

Felix drew a long breath; then smiled, and asked, 'What does it all

mean?'

'Don't you see? K T. Katie--Lady Caergwent.'

'And did you really receive this extraordinary confidence?'

'Not quite like that.'

'Is this your Countess in her own right, who was said to be engaged to

one of the De la Poers?'

'To Lord Ernest, yes;' and to Felix's satisfaction, there was no

shrinking from his eye--she looked clear and innocent. 'The slip you

sent me from that paper was altogether impertinent and premature. There

is no engagement yet, but there is to be.'

'In spite of this opinion about the letters of the alphabet?'

'That is no more than one of Bear's growls. You must know, Lady

Caergwent is an odd girl. She is only twenty, very clever at any

headwork, but curiously childish about anything real. Her uncle

and aunt, with whom she lives, were obliged to go abroad with Mrs.

Umfraville's sick brother; and she is a ward in Chancery, and could not

go, so she has been at Repworth all the summer. I believe the elders

have settled it. Colonel Umfraville says if she does not marry young

she will never marry at all.'

'Are you in his confidence too?'

'No, but Lord de la Poer talks to Lord Repworth, and he tells Grace.

They are all open-hearted; and, except Lady Fanny, none of them can

help talking.'

'Well, I didn't know _mariages de convenance_ went on still.'

'No, indeed; they really like each other. No one could doubt it some

time ago, when they were not thinking about it; and there is a sort of

understanding that it will be, though it is not to come on formally

till he has done with Oxford. Well, that understanding has spoilt every

one's comfort.'

'I should think so!'

'Will you not see, Felix, that they really care for one another, only

he is a little ashamed of the good match, and its all being made up

for them. Then this summer has been unlucky: he was to read with Mr.

Crichton, the Curate, a very clever man, a friend of Lord Repworth, who

teaches Cecil and some of the girls Latin.'

'Is he married?'

'Oh dear yes!'

'Then he is a K T?'

'Twice over, by name and nature. It would have done very well for Lord

Ernest to read with him, as he did last year, if they had been let

alone. Not that Lady Caergwent wants to interrupt. Her uncle has taught

her a good deal of those kind of things; indeed, she spurred Adelaide

up to it, and only wanted to work with her and her brother.'

'Spurring leads to recalcitration--eh?'

'If you would only understand. She is not at all what you are fancying.

She is a sort of intense child. She is slight and feminine, a great

coward, as nervously excitable as Cherry, and showing it more, so

that her eagerness quite overdoes people. Then, she is very shy, and

so much hates to take the initiative, that people think her proud and

ungracious. I soon found the only way to set her at her ease was to

behave as if we were two girls on equal terms. It is so provoking, when

she has just been the life of the whole schoolroom, to see her shrivel

up as if a stranger was a blight--especially a shy one. And the more

she makes a conscience of being agreeable, the worse it is, for the

nervous fright paralyzes her. There never was any one with so little

presence of mind. She can't get on without being under somebody's wing.

And another unlucky thing is that she has no dexterity of hand, and

hates all games that turn on it, like croquet. There's no keeping out

of them, for there is a garden-party at Repworth to all the neighbours

every Tuesday in the summer; and there would be quite a fuss among the

natives if Lady Caergwent did not show herself. I believe her uncle put

her under a solemn promise not to sit in the pollard in the park with

Addy all the afternoon. So she plays like a martyr, infinitely worse

than among ourselves, and some one always has to get her through to end

the affair. The last day before I came home I had stayed in with little

Susan, who was upset with the heat, and had been naughty enough to be

kept in as a sort of sedative penance. I thought she was asleep on her

board when Lord Ernest came in. Now, Lady Caergwent had been all the

morning poking out some dates and marking some books she knew he would

want; and she had left them with me for him to take when he came in for

the two hours' reading he always was to take before dinner, and which

_she_ never let him off. If I had seen at first how hot and fuming

he was with the bother first of her croquet and then of her hints, I

should have put off executing my commission; but unluckily I gave my

message, and he broke out, "Crichton, croquet, (pronouncing the t,) K

T for ever--the most intolerable conjunction in the alphabet--nothing

tolerable spelt with them." I laughed, and said, "Is cricket in that

_cate_gory?" and he answered, "The only one that is not an unmitigated

bore."'

'But, Robin, what would Wilmet say to your having him gossipping in

your schoolroom?'

'It is not my schoolroom, it is Miss Oswald's, and the brothers are all

tame about her like their sisters. Indeed, this was a mere accident;

and when I found he meant to stay and grumble, I made an excuse about

looking for Annie, and left him. Now hear what Grace says:--

"We have an awkward mess just now, and I hope you can help

us out of it. You know how Papa dislikes that cricket mania

which makes playing at a match a sort of public duty, to which

everything is to be sacrificed; and how the boys say he would

not mind if Colonel Umfraville had not worked him up. At any

rate, as it was understood that Ernest was reading, and could

not play in matches, the Breretons need not have summoned him

fiery-cross fashion to their Oxford eleven. Kate broke out in

the middle of breakfast, that it was a great shame, and she

hated bondage; and he was provoked to answer, 'So did he.'

Mamma hushed it down; but Kate's blood was up, and she never

knows when to let a thing alone, so she hunted him into a

corner after breakfast, and argued with him; and you know no

man could stand that."

'No, indeed,' said Felix. 'It is quite enough to have to marry a

Countess!'

'Don't, Felix! If you could only see the slight clinging thing! It

all comes of her eager faith in her uncle. It is imploring, not

domineering.'

'Well, go on; was that what drove him here?'

'Gracie goes on--

"They must have been very near a quarrel, for she rushed off,

and unluckily came full pelt upon Papa. She did not speak,

but he had seen tears in her eyes, and that brought it to a

crisis. He accused Ernest of trifling with her, and amusing

himself with everybody else; and Ernest made some answer that

I am afraid was very foolish, and went off to Ballford. I met

him in the hall, and he said things were past endurance, he

should like to enlist as a private soldier, and he did not know

when he was coming home, but I thought he only meant whether

it would be Saturday or Monday. Kate was vexed, but would not

show it; and when she found Cecil dawdling in a fit of the

nothing-to-does, she suggested some sensible employment, and

that exasperated him into telling her Ernest had gone away

because he said that all K Ts were horrible. I don't think

Kate would have mentioned it; but she turned white, and Addy

was there, and was furious with Cecil, and it came to such a

row that Mamma came in. Cecil stood out that Susie heard him

say it to you, and Susan added that it was because Kate is so

tiresome at croquet, and set him such a long lesson. Mamma

thought she should have it out with him if she went to fetch

him home from Ballford and had him all to herself; but when she

came there, he was gone, and none of the Breretons could tell

where. I fancy it may be to Eweford, for Mr. Milwright wanted

both him and Repworth for his ecclesiological meeting. If you

see him, pray talk to him and send him home, for Kate has been

in great trouble about it, laying the blame on herself, (as

well she may,) and she has actually written to her other uncle,

Mr. Wardour, to propose going to him. It is very horrid. Papa

feels keenly that she has been--what he calls insulted in his

house by his sons; and yet we can't do much, because--oh why

is she not only Kate Umfraville? The light is gone out of her

brown eyes, and she looks as she did before the Colonel came

home. She wants to be too proud to show it to us, but there is

no pride in her, and she can't act it. If you could only get

at that boy and send him home, it would all come right. There's

the whole story: I hope it will not spoil your pleasure; but if

you have a scrap of time, write, and comfort your poor loving

G. DE LA P."'

There was an odd look in Felix's face as he said, 'Poor young man!'

'It is too bad of him!' said Robina, hotly.

'And are you armed with a long whip to send him back to his Countess

and his book?'

'Please, Felix, be in earnest! It is a serious matter.'

'Because it concerns such exalted personages.'

'No,' said Robina, the tears burning in her eyes, 'because Grace is my

friend, and Kate Caergwent a dear bright girl, who must not have her

life spoilt--nor he either. Felix, you never were unfeeling before!'

'Have you let them know where to find their truant?'

'I had begun a letter this morning, but had no time to finish.'

'But you can give your evidence on the K T case by to-morrow's post.'

'Yes, if you can get my letter to Ewmouth before nine o'clock.'

'I will take care of that; and then you will have done all that ought

to be expected of you.'

'Oh! I must speak to Lord Ernest.'

'Really, Robina, I am so thankful to see you so well out of the scrape

that I don't see why you should thrust yourself into it. Surely, when

the boy's parents know where to find him, they are competent to act.'

'Don't you see, they will not get my letter till the day after

to-morrow, and by that time Lady Caergwent will have gone. Now, if he

would only go back to-morrow of his own accord, it would have a much

better grace. Why do you laugh, Felix?'

'I profess not to understand lords and ladies,' said Felix, recovering

his gravity; 'but I doubt the effectiveness of the remonstrance, and I

greatly fear your burning your own fingers.'

'There's no fear of that,' she said, with dignity. 'It is a duty to

friends who are dearer and kinder to me than any one here believes!'

And the tears started on her cheeks.

'Of your duty you are the best judge. I see you must have been

discreet, to have earned so much affection and confidence. I own I

should have thought the fewer who meddled in such a concern the better!

and that--though I daresay it is very shocking--there was something

rather wholesome in the poor boy's exertion of free will.' He was near

laughing, the whole affair struck him as so ludicrous, especially

Robina's look of dismay.

'Oh! His sisters! Lady Caergwent! His mother, and all! Oh no! If I

don't try my utmost to get him home, I should feel treacherous--as if I

were encouraging him here.'

'Honestly, do you think your being here has anything to do with his

coming?'

'N--no! At least, I think the sight of you all so bright and pleasant

at the station put it into his head. He is very much amused with

Angela; but--oh no! I am certain he does not come after any one--least

of all me!'

'There is one person who seems to think otherwise, if I may judge from

his manner,' said Felix, tentatively.

'It is very unjust and unfair!' cried Robina, flaming up. 'He ought

to know and trust me better. I will not heed such unworthy fancies. A

son of the house, indeed! He ought to know that if there were no other

reason, I should think it dishonourable.'

'Yet was it not on that account that you stayed at home to-day?'

'Yes,' she said more softly; 'but that ought to content him. I cannot

give up a duty for unworthy suspicions.' And her neck bridled, and her

eyes shone with hurt dignity through her tears.

'Well, Robina, you know best. You understand your own affairs, I

suppose, and I see you are really trying to act rightly and honourably.

I will give you any opportunity I can of speaking to this youth,

though, for your own sake, I should strongly advise your only giving

him his mother's letter, and letting it speak for itself.'

Robina shook her head. It was useless to argue it further. Like a

woman, and a young woman, she was resolved to run all risks in her

friend's cause, deeming it ignoble to make any concession to William's

unfounded jealousy, and not appreciating Felix's doubts of any young

man, especially one in a chafing refractory mood, going back to the

yoke at the behest of his sisters' governess.

Felix did not like it at all, but he was always slow to act where he

did not understand his ground; and the tone of the two letters showed

such confidence in Robina, that he felt that her prudence might be

trusted; while as to William Harewood, an unrecognised engagement did

not deserve consideration from the family.

So he kept her counsel, and let things take their course, on the busy

confused morning that preluded the first attempt of the family at an

entertainment.

Breakfast was enlivened by a discussion whether precedence was to be

respected, and next what that precedence was. 'Ought the Baron, or the

Marquis's younger son, to come first and take Miss Underwood?'

'The Baron, I hope,' said Cherry. 'Old men are twice as nice as young

ones, though your friend is very pleasant, Bobbie. Which is it to be?

You are the experienced one.'

'Not I,' said Robina. 'Of course I don't dine late, and they go into

luncheon nohow, as I should say was the best way here. Let Felix take

Lady Hammond, and leave the rest to settle it. Depend upon it, they

know their places better than we do.'

'"Ladies and Gentlemen, sort yourselves," as the parson said, when he

had married five couple all at one go,' said Bernard.

'Don't they sometimes stick in the door-way curtseying? They do in

books,' said Cherry.

'Not out of them,' said Robin. 'If there is a choice, I think age gets

it more than actual rank.'

'There's nothing Lord Ernest hates like dowagers,' cried Angela, 'when

all the jolly girls are out of reach.'

'What do you know about it, Angela?' said Felix, rather sharply.

'I've heard him say so twenty times. We are prodigious allies, and it

was very sly of Robin never to tell me he was coming. Bear and I would

have got up Dobby for his special edification.'

'You will do no such thing, for him or any one else!' broke forth in

displeasure from Felix.

Angela shrugged her shoulders. 'Our Squire has grown very peremptory

since he came to his kingdom,' she said; and perhaps he thought so, for

he said to her at a quiet moment, 'Angela, perhaps I should have given

you credit for not meaning what you said. You must know the impropriety

of playing tricks on our guests, more especially when concerned with

the world of spirits.'

The words appealed to the more accessible side of her nature, and she

was silent. He considered whether to warn her about Lord Ernest, but

was deciding that it would only excite her to further mischief, when

he was summoned to admire the preparations that had absorbed the home

party all the previous day.

The screen, a high wooden carved one, entirely cut off the end of

the long room appropriated to the household prayers. The long table

was laid with the fine old damask, the wealth of plate, glass, and

old china, to which the substantial cold viands, and the jellies and

creams, compounded by Wilmet and her ingenious Krishnu, were now to be

added. The only failure had been in the unlimited lobsters, which had

been all absorbed by Ewmouth itself; but then, Marilda, hearing all

about it from Lance on his way through London, had actually sent them

last night two venison pasties and a grouse pie, ready made, besides a

great deal of her best fruit.

All stood admiring except Geraldine, who cried, 'Oh, that big

epergne! Oh, those dahlias! They are just like a pincushion, or

Protheroe's window! Stella--Bear--Bobbie--for pity's sake get me some

fuchsias--traveller's joy, Bougainvillia--anything trailing--and I'll

get a little of the stiffness out before Wilmet comes, and then she'll

never find it out! And where's my salt-cellar? Oh for Lance!'

When Wilmet came upon the scene, she found Cherry seated as the

centre-piece on the table, contending with the difficulties of adorning

without concealing the curious old salt, the table-cloth bestrewn with

green leaves and fallen fuchsia bells, and the epergne, the triumph

of her art, the subject of her distant admiration at the last dinner

party of the olden time, (Clement's christening feast,) relegated to

a much inferior station, its formal glories of purple and crimson

quilled dahlias obscured by loose streamers of passion-flower and hoary

clematis.

Other people besides Robina had something to bear that day, but there

was nothing in which John's influence was more shown than in the mutual

forbearance of Wilmet and Geraldine. The latter took the initiative

with a torrent of thanks and apologies; and Wilmet, remembering whose

house it was, submitted with a good grace, and concealed her vexation

by hurrying to the kitchen to take the jellies out of their moulds.

There at least she was supreme. Martha was only too glad to have her to

sympathize with her new glories, and for her sake could even bear with

'that there blackamore chap.'

Robina, in a nearly sleepless night, had decided on giving William a

word or two of explanation as to her having a message from home for

Lord Ernest; but in the rush after flowers, Angela had carried Bill off

to rob a wisteria of its second bloom, and by the time they came back,

Felix was hurrying his party into the waggonette.

Only the gentlemen went; the ladies had enough to do at home, since it

was only too true that Cherry's improvements had doubled their work,

and she felt herself the more graceless that she could not run about

to supply the labour she had created. Indeed, all were watching lest

she should overtire herself; but she was one of those who never feel

weariness while excitement lasts.

The last jelly was scarcely in its place, the last wine-glass adjusted,

when Angela announced a carriage turning over the bridge; and the long

approach up the lane, and down the drive enabled Cherry, by the united

efforts of her sisters, to cast her housewifely slough, don her white

dress and mauve ribbons, and seat herself in the drawing-room, with

Clement as her supporter.

Luckily Cherry had never been afraid of people, and she faced the

inroad with great composure. This proved to be only the advanced guard,

namely, Mr. Milwright, bringing Lord Ernest and a fellow ecclesiologist

with whom he wanted to hold a private discussion over the fragments

of a shrine in the south transept; and Clement went to show his

discoveries.

So cruelly were opportunities wasted, that Robina was in the far end

of the west wing, dressing herself and Angela, while Lord Ernest was

having a twenty minutes _tête-à-tête_ with Cherry, whom he consulted as

to joining Will Harewood's reading party, and told her that the Vale

Leston choir was renowned as the best in the neighbourhood; and that

old Milwright, being unable to go in out-and-out for the mediæval, let

things alone, and was content with two fiddles and a flute. Wherefore

he should walk from Eweford on the ensuing Sunday, to this--simply

the most charming place he had ever seen. Whereupon Miss Underwood

innocently invited him to luncheon between the services.

Robina could only come down just as Felix returned, immediately

followed by the whole multitude, exceeding the expectations of the

family so much, that Marilda's pasties were a comfortable reflection,

and Wilmet's imagination fell to reckoning knives and forks. Places at

the table must be hopeless for many; and when Felix, in desperation,

offered an arm to Lady Hammond, he left a chaos behind which he hoped

would, as Bernard said, 'sort itself.'

People must have been quite as curious about the Underwoods as about

their Priory, for the most improbable guests had come, even the

undesirable peer, whose earldom complicated matters. He assumed,

however, that the eldest and handsomest bonnetless lady must be her

of the house, and accordingly gave his arm to Mrs. Harewood; Lord de

Vigny, who knew better, took his old acquaintance, Miss Underwood, and

dipped her once more in the dear old world of art; the others paired

somehow, and, as Robina had foreseen, Lord Ernest left himself behind

with the common herd, who, after the seats at the long table were

occupied, betook themselves to the cushioned embrasures of the windows,

and to catering for themselves at the side-board, where, happily, there

was no lack of supplies. It was great fun, and Angela agreed with Lord

Ernest in pronouncing it so much jollier than a wedding-breakfast, as

there were no wretched victims to be turned off. If there were any

victims, one was Robina, who was penned up in a corner by Mr. Henry

Shaw, doing his best to be polite; and the other was Will, who had

on his hands two ladies, a gushing mother and daughter, who had just

discovered him to be the author of those delicious songs, signed March

Hare!

The discourse, the occasion of all, began in the long room, Mr.

Milwright taking up station after station, while people herded round to

look at what he pointed out. This tour must be Robina's opportunity.

There were a good many stragglers from the troop of listeners; and

among them was Angela, keeping close to Lord Ernest, and delighted to

take him on a counter round, displaying all the charms of her new home.

This Robina had expected. She knew that it might be said that the

two young Miss Underwoods were running after that young man, and she

wanted to speak as soon as possible, to put an end to the pursuit. So

when Angela had led him to a shed where resided an owl captured in the

church tower, she took the bull by the horns. 'Angel, I have a message

from Repworth to deliver. I must ask you to leave us a little while.'

And she opened the door leading into the walled kitchen garden. Angela

shrugged her shoulders, but fell back.

'And so you have betrayed me? Could not you let a poor fellow breathe a

little free air for once in his life?'

'Read that!' was all her answer.

The effect of his mother's letter resembled that on Felix; he burst out

laughing, much more unreservedly exclaiming, 'Well done, Cecy!'

'But it is not what you said!'

'Wasn't it? Then my words fell short of my thoughts. What was it the

King of France said when he had got away from captivity or Catherine de

Medici (his K Ts, you see)--"I am yet a man and a brother."'

'Please don't make light of it. Grace is in such distress.'

'There generally is a commotion when a prisoner breaks loose. I thought

better of you, Miss Underwood, than to suppose you a detective in

disguise.'

'I only want you to realize how wrong it is that you should be here.'

'I assure you it is all for the family honour. _Tout est perdu fors

l'honneur_.--That was the fellow's sentiment--wasn't it?'

'I don't see the application.'

'Don't you? Sha'n't I be ploughed to a dead certainty if I go on trying

to carry this on at home!' said Lord Ernest, much more seriously. 'How

about _l'honneur_ then?'

Robina could not deny the danger, and knew not how to answer. He

saw his advantage, and pursued it. 'Was not reading, under the

circumstances, a delusion? You won't speak treason? Never mind, I see

it in your eyes. You know that between all the K Ts within and without

doors, it was providential that I retained sufficient combination of

ideas to effect my escape before I was quite distracted.'

'I don't think you guess the distress you have caused,' said Robina,

gravely.

'What, Gracie has written you a deplorable letter? Gone to the bad

entirely, am I? My mother weeping, my father wailing, my sister

sobbing, our K T wringing her hands--' Then, as she moved decidedly

away, with a gesture expressive of deep displeasure, 'Nay--I declare

they are re-assured. Even if you haven't--I have written to my father;

and they know by this time that the vortex I have rushed into is

nothing worse than a conglomeration of antiquarian old fogies.'

'Oh! if you have written--' she began, feeling that Felix had been

right, and she herself more or less of a goose.

'Yes. I have written to explain that my brain won't stand being

beset within doors and without, and to propose joining Harewood's

reading-party.'

Robina fairly started. 'Do you know if he will have you?'

'I hope he can. He is a crack coach, you know, little as he looks it.

Wonderfully able man when he makes the most of himself.'

'I think he has as many pupils as he has room for,' said Robina, highly

gratified, but hoping to avert what might drive Will beyond all bounds.

'I hope not. Your sister seemed to think it might be managed.'

'What, Angela?'

'No; Miss Underwood--is she not? The one who was in the room first.

What a delightful countenance she has, by-the-by, it strikes me more

than Mrs. Harewood's. It is a rare thing to meet so much beauty afloat

in one family.'

However complimentary, he must not be allowed to run on in this way;

and his monitor returned abruptly to the charge. 'I allow that it is

hard to read at the Towers; but before you make any other arrangements,

I think you ought to go home this very evening and explain things.

There is a train at 4.11, at Church Ewe.'

'Have you got a policeman outside to give me in charge to?'

'No,' she answered, with some anger; 'but Lady Caergwent is going away

to-morrow!'

His first impulse was a little whistle of dismay; but he caught it up,

and coolly said, 'Joy go with her, a K T clasm! You have not let Grace

cram you with all _that?_'

By this time Robina was thoroughly sensible of the false position

she had got herself into, and had only to get herself out of it as

fast as she could, so she took the path between the espaliers and

scarlet-runners which would soonest lead back to public haunts, saying

decidedly, 'I do not want to hear anything about it.'

'It seems to me,' said her companion, with more of the man than he

had yet assumed, 'that having entered on this, you should allow me to

remind you that this _is_ a free country, and these are not the days of

family compacts. I will not go home, to be badgered whatever I say or

do. I will strike out my own line, and work for myself.'

'But your father--!'

'If I know my father, he will like me the better for it. The Colonel

has a way of making him see things in his point of view, and it was a

tidy little plan; but there are not so many men in this world born for

prince-consorts, and they have not got hold of one of the sort. There,

now, you have discharged your duty! You may tell Grace what I say--the

whole houseful, if you like.'

'Very well,' said Robina coldly, glad to have nearly reached a door

opening upon a laurel path. 'It is of no use to say any more. You have

written, and I have no more to do with it.'

'I didn't think you were on the enemy's side!' he proceeded, as if

pleading with her displeasure. 'I know you are one to like a fellow the

more for having a spark of independence. Come, you may as well say so;

it is in your nature, I've seen it, and you owe me compensation for all

that you have rehearsed to me in the spirit of the K Ts.'

This was in a tone between warmth and raillery, that made it very

difficult to know how to reply; and all she could think of was, 'You

can be the only judge of what is right and manly.'

'There then!' as if he had done with the subject. 'Oh! don't open the

door. Let us have another turn. I want to tell you about my plans. This

is almost as good as losing ourselves.'

'I can't,' said Robina, with much repressive displeasure, 'I am wanted.

I only came to show you your mother's letter;' and she plunged into the

laurel-walk.

'Then I am much obliged to my mother's letter,' was the reply, in a

tone that conveyed more than the words.

Therewith, at the other end of the path, were seen Mrs. Fulbert

Underwood, Miss Martha Hepburn, and Mr. Harry Shaw. They met; Robina

shook hands; Lord Ernest moved his hat; but though 'Jane' made a low

curtsey, her observation was marked--'Oh! so you have lost yourself

again, Rosina!'

'My name is Robina, if you please,' she exclaimed, glad to have

something to contradict.

'Ah! I never can remember! It is so peculiar!'

'Peculiarly pretty,' said Lord Ernest. 'It puts one in mind of all

sorts of pleasant associations.'

'It is Scottish, after Miss Hepburn,' said Robina, severely turning

from him.

'Yes,' said Miss Martha. 'It is a very old name with us, but we never

called my sister by it; we call her by her name of Elizabeth, it is

less romantic but more sensible.' And Miss Martha, frightened at

speaking so like Isabella, laughed a little to diminish the stern

effects.

Robina hoped to shake off Lord Ernest by joining them, and said

politely, 'I did not know you were here.'

'Harry and I thought we would just come over to see what the learned

men think of the poor old place; but after all, it is only Mr.

Milwright, and one can hear him any day, so we came round just to have

a look at the old conservatories, which I used to dote on.'

'You have had some luncheon?'

'Yes, thank you, we got some cold pigeon pie. My dear, what a pity your

sister did not apply to me! I could have recommended her to Patakake,

who always did things for us. Whom could you have had?'

'Kerenhappuch,' said Robina solemnly, for, in spite of all her trouble,

she was awake to the fun of the thing, and she greatly tickled Lord

Ernest by the tone and the name.

'Well, so Miss Martha said, but I could not believe it. Done entirely

at home?'

'Yes.'

'Excuse me, my dear Ros--Robina, but it was a mistake in a position

like yours.'

'I am sorry if anything was not good.'

'Oh! that's not it. It is style that is the _thing_, especially in your

position. It will not do to fall short of it!--You agree with me, my

Lord, air is everything.'

'I much prefer good food,' he answered; at which Harry Shaw broke into

a hearty laugh, and Robina could not help joining. Perceiving, perhaps,

that his dictum would go for something, Lord Ernest gravely added, 'If

good food and good taste combined are the right thing, I am sure we had

it to-day. I never saw a more thoroughly pretty or graceful set out--so

well appointed too.'

And though the two ladies agreed that the poor young man was very

far gone, and that there was something artful about that girl, yet

it silenced the lamentations for Patakake. Mrs. Fulbert declared it

wonderful how those girls had managed it--but, of course, they had been

brought up to such things; and Miss Martha--more good-naturedly--made

it known that 'that young nobleman had never seen anything equal to it

for style and good taste!'

'Of course, simplicity was a relief after the jaded life of a man of

fashion,' added Miss Isabella.

'What, the Earl was there! What a pity those young people should get

into such a set!'

By the time the lawn was reached, the discourse was ended, and people

were scattered about on the garden-chairs, partaking of further

refreshments handed by Krishnu, who had assumed his white and scarlet,

and had an imposing effect, leading forth sundry footmen in diverse

liveries as his assistants. Lord de Vigny had detected Geraldine's

studio, and insisted on seeing her portfolio. She had somewhat flagged

since her object had been attained, and among the excitements of

the last year; and the old gentleman gave her a real scolding for

wasting such powers in little desultory half-finished memorial kind of

sketches. It was impossible not to laugh at the exaggerated feeling

of the kind old courteous amateur; but after all, the stimulus was

good for her. She did not exactly accept the assurance that it was

the first duty of her life to produce something every season for the

Exhibition; but the fresh eye, and the criticism, which had reality

in it, though it was complimentary, stirred her up; and she felt that

it was not doing justice to the gift of which she was a steward,

to shrink, as she had done of late, from the train of attention and

detail which the maturing an original subject cost her, besides that

contributions to the housekeeping were really felt by all that could

work for themselves to be almost due to him who toiled so freely for

them and for his conscience. As to the neighbours, they only then and

there discovered that the little lame Miss Underwood was an exhibitor

at the Royal Academy, and that the queer old nobleman, with the loose

grey hair, raved about her drawings. They regarded her the more or the

less according as they most esteemed genius or gentility; and as Miss

Martha Hepburn said, 'No one would ever have found it out.' 'As if they

expected me to go about in a white turban and a palette on my thumb,

like the pictures of Angelica Kaufman!' said Cherry, laughing, as

Angela reported this speech while the home party stood under the porch,

after seeing off their last guests.

There was plenty of indulgence in self-gratulations, and a universal

contribution of the observations each had received, almost all

resulting in declaring their house-warming a great success. In the

midst, some correspondence of eye between Robina and her eldest

brother, brought the colour into her cheek as she drew nearer to him.

He held out his hand to her, and when the others dispersed to their

rooms, they began to walk together under the wall.

'You spoke to him?'

'Yes. Oh! I wish I hadn't. You were right. He had written to his

father, after all!'

'Then it is off your mind?'

'Yes. No--it would be--' She fell into a terrible tangle of hesitation

and broken words, out of which he thus interpreted,

'You found the situation awkward?'

'Oh! I ought not to complain, for it was my own doing when you warned

me, and I don't believe he meant it; but--but--it just amounts to this,

that I can never freely say again that he never said, or tried to say,

a word like flirting--to me. And I suppose it is my duty to tell,

and--give them all up--'

'I suppose you had rather not tell me what he really said?'

'It was not words so much as manner--assuming that I was on his side at

heart, and half laughing at me all the time. Then, when he had told

me quite seriously that the family compact was all nonsense, he grew a

little more like that--wanted me to hear his plans, and stay away from

the rest--said it was as good as our being lost.'

'Is that all?'

'Yes; except that, when I said why I began, he answered, "Then I am

much obliged to my mother's letter."'

'Then, if there is no more, you had much better let things alone. If he

has written to his father, a post or two will decide his recall; and in

the meantime, such a confession, though quite conscientious, would only

make you ridiculous.'

'Yes, I see that. I had much rather not. Wilmet thinks I am always

fancying such things--but you don't, Felix! I only wish it were--'

'I don't think you so silly, my dear,' said Felix. 'No one can judge of

manner without seeing it; but so little as you have to tell seems to me

nothing to cry out about, and your confession might be misunderstood.'

'Of course I don't want to do it; but to keep it back when I write

seems treacherous.'

'Don't write!'

'Not to Grace?'

'She knows you are much occupied; and even if she do think you a little

remiss, really even such a dreadful idea seems to me preferable to any

fresh reports coming between this young man and his family, at what may

be the turning-point of his life.'

'I should not send a false report!'

'You could not help sending an excited one; and if it were the actual

short-hand notes of what passed, word for word, what could it do but

give all the ladies something more to talk about? If Lord de la Poer

be the same man in private life as in public, he and his son will

understand one another much better without the interposition of any

women's tongues, or pens, however kindly-intentioned.'

'So he said--that his father would understand, and like him the better

for being independent.'

'For my part, I could not understand what you told me!'

'He is so fond of Colonel Umfraville, and would be glad to see one of

his children like a son to him. I can't help hoping it will come right,

for poor dear Lady Caergwent's sake.'

'Then, once more, let it alone!'

She obeyed, with a sigh. It was a quiet evening, Felix and the

Harewoods went to the soirée; and the next day was that of the

excursion to Stoneborough, for which Robina had not much heart, but

that dreadful imputation of being apt to make a fuss about nothing

prevented her from backing out. She did not understand William, who

had dropped his surly petulant manner, and was only exceedingly grave

and quiet, keeping out of the way, and looking dejected and subdued.

She longed to speak to him, but he specially avoided her, and this

time Felix made her his special charge, transferring Cherry to John

Harewood's guidance. Both understood, almost without even a glance,

that he wished to be free; and Cherry could not have had a more devoted

cavalier than her brother-in-law, who never left her, except when the

ascent of the Tower made Gertrude May hang back, declare she had had

enough of that, and beg to take Miss Underwood under her protection, to

rest in her sister's drawing-room.

And there Gertrude, in one of those curious accesses of confidence that

congeniality sometimes produces, poured out a great deal of what was

most individual to herself. Daisy had never set up a friend before,

and had always been rather contemptuous of intimacies; but this was a

case of love at first sight. Geraldine was about six years her elder,

and not in the category of 'tiresome girls,' and while her sister's

beauty was talked of, no one said much about her; so Daisy fancied this

a discovery of her own, and became devoted to her, especially when

she began to touch on Felix, and found that for hero-worship nothing

could rival the sister. Geraldine had her reserves, but to find such a

listener to the achievements of Felix was enough to open all her heart.

And when the interruption came at last, all Gertrude thought of was

when and how to meet again.

Nothing worth note befell Robina; and on the Saturday the only event

was Mr. Harewood's departure, and his son's disappearance immediately

after. It turned out that he was walking to Penbeacon to make his final

arrangements; and when regrets were expressed that he had not borrowed

a horse, John warned the proprietors against trusting a beast in

Will's hands; and Wilmet declared that, in mercy to his pupils, she

should drive over next week and see whether the rooms were fit for

anybody. Clement spoke well of them, but she had little faith in him.

On Sunday, just as the church bells were calling, and the Priory ladies

were proceeding to the bench they had placed in the south transept,

when leaving the chancel to the choir, there appeared the not very

welcome outline of an aquiline young profile, with loose shining brown

hair, peering about over the big oaken boxes that fenced up the central

aisle; and it was Angela who popped up her head to guide him to a local

habitation.

If it were true that Vale Leston rejoiced in the best choir in the

neighbourhood, Ewshire could not be well off, thought those who were

used to the Bexley organ and choir under Lance's presidency. Clement

had done a good deal in the past year with his boys, and had a good

schoolmaster as organist; but the best voices did not appertain to the

best men, and those best men, being the most imbued with Hepburnism,

viewed the gallery as a much more honourable place than the chancel,

and would infinitely rather have sung in a dissenting chapel than in

a surplice; but though they were little cultivated, and were still in

what their vicar called motley, his voice, with the Squire's practised

one, and Will's with its old chorister training, told enough to make

the general effect far above the country average, and to merit the

admiration with which Lord Ernest replied to Angela's exaggerated

despair at the dissonances.

On the way through the Cloister he contrived to say to Robina, 'I've

heard from Papa--it is all right.' She could only reply, 'That is

well!' with a real look of congratulation, though she felt that the use

of the strictly domestic appellation was another dangerous implication

of familiarity. After dinner she crept up to her own room, resolved to

give neither encouragement to him nor offence to William, thinking it

hard that the latter's last Sunday should be spoilt. The school would,

she knew, keep Angela out of mischief, and Cherry would look after the

guest if he deserved to be entertained. What had become of poor Lady

Caergwent?

Perhaps the sun was too hot in her southern room, for Robina grew

restless over her books, and wandered into Cherry's painting room,

gazing listlessly from the windows. Then she saw a sight that surprised

her--Will and Lord Ernest under the cedar, in a conference that lasted

till the smallest bell began to ring.

Felix was still more surprised by Will's address to him some hours

later.

'I just want to know one thing. Do you want that young fellow licked

into shape--that young De la Poer?' he added, meeting Felix's look of

blank amazement. 'He wants me to take him in hand at Penbeacon. I told

him I did not know if there was room--I really don't; but the real

question is--' and there he came to a dead stop.

'The real question is--' repeated Felix.

'Whether you think it a good thing?' continued Will, his head bent over

a cat's-cradle of string in which he had tied up his fingers.

'A very good thing for him, and pecuniarily not a bad one for you.'

'Botheration! that has nothing to do with it. Can't you see what I

mean? Is it good for--her?' and the poor little monosyllable came out

with a sort of groan.

Felix pitied him enough to help him forward with, 'For Robina, do

you mean? You are under a misapprehension, if you think it makes any

difference to her!'

'Then you don't approve of it? You don't want to put a stop to it?'

'There is nothing to put a stop to, that I know of!'

'Ah! then you don't know!' said Will, lapsing into deep dejection.

'I know she would consider what you imply as dishonourable and

treacherous!'

'No, no!' cried Will, vehemently; 'no such thing! Your sister in your

house--as well-born a lady as any in England--a match for any man in

the realm!'

'There are other reasons, besides her position in the family, which

would make her think it treason to encourage what, I believe, has no

existence.'

'Ah, then--you don't know what--' and again he stopped short between

dismay and oppression.

'What do you mean?'

'No, no; you shall not have it from me. I'm only sorry I said a word.'

And the poor fellow was going away.

'Hold, Bill! Tell me what you mean? I believe I can explain it!'

'There's only one expla--No; what am I saying? She has every right.

You'll hear it soon enough!'

He was turning the handle of the door, when Felix said, 'If you mean

that Robina spoke to him in the kitchen-garden on Thursday, I know all

about that!'

'Indeed!' His face altered instantly.

'She had a letter from his mother that she thought he ought to see. She

told me what she intended.'

'Queer people, to find such a channel of communication,' said Bill,

gruffly. 'And that was all?'

'The whole.'

'Well! I never meant to act the spy; but I'll tell you how it was,

Felix. I had heard all Milwright's prose, and was sick of all the

humbug; so I went into your study for a little peace, and there I heard

Theodore fretting awfully in the next room--'

'I know. You were so kind as to take him out.'

'He wanted you, and he wanted to be out; and he was plagued and

bothered at so many strangers about, and Sibby was nearly demented

with having to keep him quiet and wash up the thingumbobs. So this

watch--it belongs to John, came from his aunt's; but I've got it while

mine is refitting--and it plays all manner of tunes. Theodore will come

anywhere after it; so I got him into the kitchen-garden, thinking there

would be peace there, and into the old root-house, and there what does

he do but go to sleep on my knee!'

'Yes; he had had a bad night. I was writing later than was good for

him, and he was excited by the preparations.'

'So while I was pinned down, I saw--from the little window--those two

walking up and down at the further end of the garden,' and he made a

gesture of utter despair. 'It was no good showing myself--I was out of

hearing; but--And so,' he added, 'I thought if I could anyway conduce

to making him fit for her, it was all I could do for her.'

'Very kind! but you might have trusted her!'

'Trust! If I had any right!'

'She thinks you have!'

'She!' and the face lighted up. 'You don't mean that she holds to

_that?_ Of course you know nothing about it, though? Some childish

nonsense passed years ago, but I never durst believe she remembered it.'

'She knows it ought not to bind you, but--'

'Bind! What should bind but the love of my whole heart, ever since I

knew I had one? I durst not speak again of it. When I came to perceive

what I had done, I thought it not fair towards her to renew it, till I

had the means to keep her as she ought to be kept; for you know I've

not got a preserve of old aunts, like Jack!'

'Quite right, Will!'

'And when she had been among all those swells, how did I know what she

might not be wanting to take up with--never being much of a fellow to

look at, any time?' he added wistfully.

'I think you might have known her better!'

'You see,' he broke out, 'I don't want her to be held to me only by

what took place long ago, when she was a child of thirteen. That would

be a downright shame, and I never meant to remind her till I had a home

to offer her. There have been times when I made sure we understood

one another; but to this hour I don't know whether she likes me a bit

better than John, and if she--likes--this young man better--she has

a perfect right!' concluded poor Will, with a great sob from his big

honest chest.

'That you had better ascertain!'

'Do you tell me so?' he exclaimed.

'I am not exactly the person to tell you to do so; but though I honour

your conduct with all my heart, I think the mutual uncertainty is

causing you both much unnecessary unhappiness and anxiety.'

'I can answer for one! But she? People always preach that long

engagements wear out a girl's life.'

'If you were sixteen and thirteen over again, I should say, "Don't!"

very decidedly; but having gone so far, I think you had best go on. I

really believe that not only would an understanding be a great present

relief, but that an avowed engagement would be a great comfort and

protection to her.'

'I'll never let her go back to that drudgery!' cried Will.

'That you must settle with her,'

'Then I have your sanction?'

'Yes; but I'm not your father!'

'Oh! he'll be jolly and glad! He never interferes with anything in

reason! I wonder how Wilmet will look!'

'That must be ascertained by experiment. We must shut up now, Will, or

poor Tedo will have another restless night. Good-night!'

'Pah! I should like to go out and halloo!'

'Write a poem instead, and work off the steam!' said Felix, turning

down the lamp to get rid of that most unpoetical-looking poet.

Will had announced an intention of walking to Penbeacon in early

morning, and when rallied by Angela on having overslept himself, the

great audacious slap-dash fellow proved to have turned as shy as

a girl. He kept on blushing up to the ears, looking sheepish, and

losing opportunities from sheer awkwardness. If the space had been

as small, or Felix as punctilious as at John's courtship, the crisis

could hardly have come on; but Felix had put off going to Bexley, to

see the affair through, and was resolved that the mutual infliction

of misery should last no longer. So finding matters in _statu quo_ at

dinner-time, he ordered the waggonet, and declaring suddenly that he

would protect Cherry through the visits she had to return, he packed

in three sisters, declaring, with a twinkle in his eye, that he knew

Bobbie wanted to finish her sketch of the church. Clement was gone to

the far end of the village, and Bernard was fishing, so that the coast

was clear.

But the drawing went on in solitude under the cedar for a quarter of an

hour; and when at last a sort of irresolute saunter resulted in a big

loosely-built personage reclining on the grass at the sketcher's feet,

a good many more minutes were spent in pulling up tufts, while she was

too glad to have him there to suggest that he was doing the work of

a dozen chaffer-grubs. Indeed, she soon saw that he was ill at ease,

and her painting felt the influence of his restlessness, which began

to alarm her, though she durst not disturb it. He might mean to have

it out with her--he might be composing a poem--to which last opinion

she inclined when he at length lay prone on his back, his straw hat

entirely over his face; and she expected either a heroic utterance, or

a hasty demand for a pencil and a page of her sketch-book. Instead of

which, after a deep sigh, came the portentous words--'Double-distilled

donkey!'

'Indeed, I don't think he's quite that!' justice compelled her to say.

'There! I knew how it would be! Nothing but an unmitigated idiot could

have thought otherwise for a moment!'

'Thought what?' said Robina--not exactly liking to consider the

'unmitigated idiot' meant to apply to herself, the most obvious

antecedent.

'Why, I was ten thousand asses for coming out here!'

'Indeed!'

Something in the tone of that 'indeed' raised him to a sitting posture,

with his arms embracing his knees, a resolute and deplorable attitude.

'I say, Robina, tell me at once, and put an end to it, whether you care

for that sprig of nobility!'

'I!' she cried, her eyes flashing. 'How can you suspect me!' and

indignation made it sound like--'insult me!'

'Don't be in such a fury with a poor fellow that has been driven nearly

to desperation!' said William, putting an elbow on the chair where her

apparatus stood.

'It was your own fault!' said Robina; she meant it to be sternly, but

it was softly. 'I wanted to explain to you, but you never would let me!'

'I did not know that you--I mean, that I felt that I had no right to

ask!'

'O Willie!'

'Robina! Robin--dearest! Are you thinking of that evening?--Bah! what's

this?' as his start forward upset the chair against him.

'The water I was painting with! Let me wipe it. It is making a green

stream over your face!' at which they both laughed hysterically; and

what Will tried to do to the hands that were drying his face may be

inferred from--'Now, don't! Let me do it properly! Be quiet, let me

look!' And as he half sat, half knelt, she turned up his great freckled

face with her hand under his chin. 'There's a green drop still in the

corner of your left eye! Let me take it out.'

'The last drop of the green-eyed monster, I promise you, Robina. Now,

don't you know what they always do to good little boys, who have had

their faces washed nice and clean?'

'But you haven't been a good little boy! You were very naughty, making

me ever so unhappy!' and, smiling as she was, there was a tear not

green in her eye.

'Ah! You could never have been so wretched as I was; not knowing

whether what was my deepest earnest was child's play to you, and not

daring to ask.'

'Just like me!' she whispered.

'And now, is it not like waking out of a horrible dream, or getting out

of a mist of darkness, to find that we have had one another's heart

ever--ever since? my Robin--mine own--mine own!'

'Oh! indeed it is! I don't think we quite knew what we were doing then,

but it has only grown as we have grown older.'

'And will grow for ever, Robina!'

'I trust so!'

'Isn't this rest?' he said presently.

'After all those worries! Oh! I must tell you about Lord Ernest!'

'I don't want to hear a word about Lord Ernest, or Lord Anybody! Bless

me, I forgot! I was to let the fellow knew if I could have him up at

the farm; and in fact I was waiting to know whether you wanted him made

a man of for you!' and Will laughed merrily. 'I'd have done my best,

Robin!'

'I do want him made a man of, but not for me,' said Robina, stroking

his face, by way of reward for a generosity she could not speak of.

'You'll do it, Willie?'

'He'll be off with it, now!'

'Nonsense! that had nothing at all to do with it. He had been trying to

read at home, and it did not answer.'

'Never does!'

'He got bothered, and came to Eweford in a fit of temper. The family

did not know where he was, and I thought I ought to show him their

letters, and let him see how vexed they were. Felix said I had better

let it alone, and I found after all that Lord Ernest had written to his

father.'

'Felix knows about us. How is that?'

'I was uncomfortable at his not knowing. I once tried to tell Wilmet,

when I was afraid I ought not to keep the _nid d'avis;_ but she said I

was a silly child, and would not listen.'

'How lucky! What a delicious time we had at Barèges! It is like a

stream of sunshine in my mind. Won't we go there again some day! That

would have settled my business, even if there had been no summer

evening at home. I've got your sketches up in my rooms, and this one

will follow them.'

'If you haven't gone and spoilt it! Look! There's a great dab of blue,

that you made me make, half way up the church tower.'

'Make it Clement, in a sky-blue scarlet vestment, pronouncing a

benediction!'

'For shame, Willie! that's as bad as Angela. Besides, he isn't gone up

as high as _that_ yet!'

'Make it a forget-me-not, then!'

'Up there! and as big as the window?'

'Make it something! I won't have it washed out. It marks the prime

moment of my life--when I came from darkness into sunshine. You must

come some day and do our Cathedral from the meads, and I'll show you

where I cut out our initials and 1861.'

'No! did you?'

'Of course; and all the more because you would not break a sixpence.

You will now?'

'With all my heart!'

'I declare I haven't got one now! Only a three-penny bit, again.'

'Here's one!' said Robina. 'Give me the three-penny, and then it will

be half from each.'

'That's not the right arrangement,' said Will, as he frowned horribly

over the difficulty of dividing the coin. 'I say, I'll get you a ring

to-morrow, though it won't be such a one as Jack's.'

'No, it will be much better!' said Robina, taking the scissors at her

chatelaine, (from a Repworth Christmas-tree,) and snipping a lock from

his head, while he was still struggling with the sixpence. 'There, I

shall make that into a ring! Yes it is the only one I will have--the

only gold I care for.'

'If you call that gold, it is decisive,' said Will, laughing, as she

twined the ruddy thing in her fingers. 'You must have something to set

it in?'

'Yes; I must wait till the chestnut horse comes home, for a few hairs

of his mane for a foundation--black would show through.'

Bill protested in favour of 'a real one,' but without much effect.

Was not the sixpence yielding at last? and had she not that precious

bird's-nest, which she had not dared to wear during his displeasure,

unwitting that this grieved him the more? They were very earnest over

the old-fashioned ceremony of the sixpence; they scratched a W and an

R on each moiety, and made a hole, and Robina undertook the finding a

cord for each. It was playfully done, but with great depth beneath.

'It has been the homely token of a great deal of simple trust!' said

Will.

'And I am sure we are poor enough!' added Robina.

'But you will never go back to that abominable harness?'

'Indeed I must! No, Will! Cannot you see how wrong and foolish it would

be to be living on Felix, with nothing to do, and no one wanting me?'

'No one?'

'Cherry is all the world to Felix, and teaches Stella. Angela takes the

parish work; and it would be a sin and shame to waste my education in

dawdling here. Even dear old Lancey is too much taken up with his music

to want me to keep house for him. I should only be in his way; and I do

not want to enter on all the questions about society there!'

'No; Bexley would not do for you!'

'And when I am getting one hundred pounds now, and am to have one

hundred and fifty after Christmas, when Miss Oswald goes, would it not

be sheer waste and laziness to come and prey on Felix, when I might be

earning a nice little nest-egg to furnish our house with?'

'That's to coax me; but I can't stand your working for me!'

'I might as well say I can't stand your working for me, you silly

fellow! You don't see me crying at your keeping pupils at Penbeacon.'

'Yes, but I'm the right one!'

'I declare you've been learning of my godmothers, who say it is

unworthy of a man to let his womankind work. A regular Mahometan

notion, isn't it? And I shall get my holidays whenever you are

available. Don't you see?'

'I see it exactly in Miss Hepburn's light. Men must work!'

'And women weep! Eh? I've no intention of weeping! I much prefer

working, and I do no more than is wholesome for any person's

well-being. I believe it is Green-eyes again?'

'No; I'm not afraid of you, my own, own steady-hearted Bird! I never

would have been, had I known whether you viewed that evening walk as

play or earnest. I've done with that sort of trouble; but I should like

to lift you out of all the drudgery of work-a-day life, and give you

all that heart could wish!'

'The heart of a bird of paradise!' said she, looking into his face;

'the heart of a robin red-breast gets much nearer what it wishes when

it is working--working for you, you know! Ay! that's so sweet, that you

want to get it all for yourself!'

'My sweetest Bird! before you have talked me quite out of my senses,

with your poetical way of putting it, let me say that you and I don't

work on equal terms. There's the rub!'

'Oh! You're ashamed of the governess?'

'No indeed, dearest; but that you--you--equal to any in birth--should

be in an inferior position!'

'Lord Earnestlypoor!' announced Amelia, in one single word, as she

advanced on them from the house, with the gentleman following. 'He

asked for Mr. Harewood.'

Up they sprung, holding out their hands.

'I thought I might walk over for my answer,' he said, with a sense of

interrupting something.

William gave a conscious laugh. 'I'm afraid I've not been up to

Penbeacon yet.'

'I think,' said Robina, rallying her powers, 'we had better make our

avowal at once. Lord Ernest, we want your congratulations. We have

been engaged this long time, and my eldest brother has just given us

leave to make it known.'

Good breeding and self-command might perhaps be what prevented all sign

of aught but frank friendliness. 'Indeed! I wish you joy with all my

heart. Does Grace know?'

'I am going to write to Grace.'

'She will be very unselfish if she rejoices.'

'I don't think it will make any difference for some time to come,' said

Robina.

'You see,' said Will, 'we neither of us have anything; and she will

have it that she is so happy among your sisters, that it is no hardship

to go on as she is.'

'My mother will say that it is as great a compliment as ever she

received.--Well, Harewood! when you can think of such sublunary matters

as pupils, will you let me know? I wouldn't have interrupted you, but I

had no notion anything so interesting was going on!'

He was so genuinely simple and hearty, that Will was impelled to try

whether he still wished to be his pupil, by asking whether he would

object to sleeping at a cottage. 'Not in the least!' he said, 'it would

be rather jolly! All I want is for you to work me up. I feel more bound

than ever not to come to grief, now they have let me take my way,' he

added, with frankness satisfactory to both.

Will entered into particulars of the accommodations, and Robina

interposed warnings against his statements till verified by her

sister's inspection. These two were really lovers of too long standing

to be overwhelmingly engrossed, but were rather like beings lightened

of a heavy load of suspense; and when the question between the two

gentlemen began as to the books he should write for from home, he

diversified it by saying to Robina--'I brought my father's letter.

Would you like to see it?'

Probably he had meant to read selections, and gave it to her only

because this was impossible, and he really wanted to justify his recent

words.

Lord de la Poer fulfilled the assertion that he would not be displeased

with his son's independence, provided he should persevere in exertion.

There was a kindly expressed but not the less real warning, that the

examination at Oxford would be the test whether this were a manly

spirit or mere restive impatience. Full permission to read with

Mr. Harewood, or any one he preferred, was given. Mr. Crichton had

perceived that the system of study at home did not answer. 'When the

class-list comes out,' wrote the Marquess, 'it will be time to consider

of the future; but I promise that you shall not find yourself withheld

from any suitable course, by any wishes that may have been prematurely

expressed. That whole subject may be considered as closed. If your

present plans are inspired by any other views, I trust to your treating

me with confidence.'

That was the only sentence in which any suspicion could be detected.

How Robina rejoiced that Felix had prevented the confession that would

have been so ridiculous now! Of Lady Caergwent there was not a word. If

Lord de la Poer knew of any grief at the defection, he regarded himself

as in honour bound not to betray her.

Robina was waiting to restore the letter for a pause in the discussion

of Greek plays and moral philosophy, which was the prelude to the

licking into shape, though in externals the tutor looked by far the

most in need of the process, when Amelia made another incursion,

and this time announced, 'Miss Hepburn'--who proved to be two of

the sisters--Bridget and Isabella; but introductions not being the

prevailing custom at Repworth Towers, Robina did not feel called on

to make any, and indeed William had been at Vale Leston as long as

she had. But they had never met face to face before, and the ladies

resented the omission, returned the bows stiffly, and when she said,

'My sisters are gone out to make morning visits,' the answer was, 'Yes,

my sister Martha saw them, and we thought you would be alone.'

'Thank you. Will you come into the drawing-room, or do you like sitting

out-of-doors?--Willie, please ring, and ask for some tea.'

'No, thank you! We will not disturb you. We did not know you were

engaged!'

Will took the word technically, and started; Lord Ernest kept his

countenance with difficulty; but Robina had sense enough to understand,

and say, 'I only stayed at home to finish a sketch. These afternoon

lights and shades are particularly becoming to the church.' And Lord

Ernest, bringing some chairs to the rescue, applied himself with ready

courtesy to make talk, though praise of the choir was hardly a happy

subject to start. He did his best with Miss Isabella, while Robina

faltered through ten minutes of cold commonplace with Miss Bridget.

About a quarter of an hour later, Major Harewood, who was working out

the problem whether prudence would allow him to exchange military

engineering for high farming as the Squire's agent, looked up at the

sight of his wife in hat and parasol.

'Are you going out, my dear? Is it not too hot?'

'Only to the Priory.'

'There's nobody at home. Kit saw "Uncle Fee" and all the aunties going

out in the carriage.'

'Not Robina. Miss Isabella Hepburn has just been here, to warn me that

she found her sitting on the lawn, alone with two young men!'

'Bernard and Theodore?'

'No, no; of course she knows them by sight. I shall go down. I expect

it is that young De la Poer; and either Robin does not know how to get

rid of him, and will be glad to see me, or else she ought to be!'

'Those are the ladies that are said to have but one tooth,' said John,

taking up hat and stick.

'There's no need to disturb you. Only I feel it the more expedient to

be near. I am much vexed at this beginning. I never expected it from

Robina. She is worse than Angel!'

'Poor Robin! There's been something amiss with her all the week, as

well as with Bill. I wonder if there is anything in the Bailey joke

about them?'

'Most certainly not,' said Wilmet; 'I am much more afraid of the other

thing. I always thought her choosing to stay at Repworth suspicious!'

'I don't believe it! I saw them come up after she had been lost at

Ewmouth, as innocent as lambs! Her manner was perfectly simple and

natural.'

'I don't understand Robina's manner,' said Wilmet.

Walking down the hilly slope of the path, they presently were aware of

a pair with arms and hands doubly interlaced, in the fashion peculiar

to the circumstances.

'John!'

'Wilmet! Was there never a blackberry lane in our lives?'

'Not without--Robina!'

They turned, but without confusion, without loosing of arms, or if

Robina had attempted it, it was checked.

'Oh! there you are, John!' exclaimed Will 'So you see we have settled

it at last!'

'I do not know what you mean,' said Wilmet, gravely.

'O Wilmet!' said Robina. 'I told you all about it, long ago, at

Barèges.'

'If you consider that as any intimation--' she began; but her husband

interrupted her. 'I suppose Felix has yet to hear this?'

'Oh no!' both cried; Will adding, 'Felix created this vast solitude on

our behalf!'

'Your father?' added Wilmet.

'He went away a day too soon; but there's no fear of him, is there,

Jack?'

'You all seem to me demented!' said Wilmet aghast.

'Nay, Mettie, if you knew it at Barèges, you can't say a word!' said

John, much amused.

'Always sending us up the mountains together!' added Will. 'No one ever

gave me such a happy time of it!'

'Giving me leave to keep the brooch!' continued Robina, chiming in with

their humour.

'Why, 'tis your doing,' summed up the Major; 'and I trust it is a good

work for both!' he gravely proceeded. 'I wish you joy, with all my

heart, though I fear I must wish you patience too!'

'And prudence!' put in Wilmet, but softening into sweetness. 'Dear

Robin--dear Willie--don't think I don't care!' as she gave a sisterly

kiss to each. 'It is because I do care so very much for both that I am

anxious!'

'Anxiety was your meat and drink so early in life that you can't shake

it off now!' said John, affectionately; 'and Harewood as I am, I should

share it with you, if I didn't know that Bill's choice much resembles

her elder sister!'

'You may say that!' observed Will. 'Why, she wants to go on in harness

at Repworth!'

'That is wise!' responded Wilmet.

'But, halloo!' cried John, 'did your friend see double, Mettie?--or

what have you done with your other young man, Robina?'

'Walked him to the little gate! He came to settle about reading with

Willie.'

'I say!' cried William, laughing, 'did the Graiæ go and send Wilmet to

put on her Gorgon's head, and charge down on us? I thought they were

looking as sour as verjuice!'

'You see,' proceeded Wilmet, 'we must all be careful! It won't do to

fancy one can do anything in the country. These old ladies don't do it

out of ill-nature, like Lady Price, but they are almost worse!'

'However, Mettie, as these poor things have been subjected already to

one Oxonian and two hags, I think you and I had better relieve them of

our presence, and let them finish their walk in peace.'

Putting things together, Robina thought she had not wholly escaped

doubt at Repworth, for she received no letter between the inquiry into

the K T case, and the answers to her own communication, and these so

overflowed with affection and cordiality, as to suggest that they were

a reaction. Lady de la Poer wrote warm congratulations, and spoke of

her eldest son's high opinion of Mr. Harewood; she was rejoiced at Miss

Underwood's decision to return to her post, and she gave a few words

of thanks for the explanation about the children's chatter: 'Susie has

been well lectured on Russian scandal!' was her conclusion.

Lady Grace was rapturous enough to think she had seen the future

dawning at the station. Poor Grace! she certainly was rather gushing,

and probably it was the contrast that made her so devoted to the

staid Robina. She let out that she was 'so glad to write again. Mamma

had advised her not, for fear of more misunderstandings, till it was

settled about Ernest; and now he must bring Mr. Harewood to Repworth

for her to see. As to Kate, she was still at the Towers; the Wardours

had the small-pox in their parish, and could not have her.' Grace had

evidently been put under some reserve as to the Countess; but there

was a note from herself--quaint and hearty, like all she did, and with

a little sadness in it. There was no such intimacy as to render it

necessary, and Robina interpreted the writing of it to mean that there

had once been bitter feelings towards her, and that this was their

recall.

MY DEAR MISS UNDERWOOD,

Gracie tells me you have been well employed. I heartily wish

you joy. A university tutor seems to me as mighty a power of

influence as any in existence, but I suppose it is your mission

to spoil him for that. Lucky girl that you are, to have work

and brothers and all! You don't know how much it saves you

from. One brother is all I would have asked, if only to prevent

me from signing myself,

Yours affectionately,

CAERGWENT.

The secret history must evidently wait for Robina's return, and before

that there was a great deal of conscientious hard work at Penbeacon,

the tutor resolutely refraining from walks to Vale Leston, except

when, on Sunday, he and his whole party marched down to what he called

'prayers and provender,' at Vale Leston. Also there was one, only

one, picnic given by the Penbeaconites to the Vale Lestonites, during

the week when the Squire inexorably went to Bexley, and sent Lance

to be the merriest of the merry on the last of August, and to make

acquaintance with the hares and partridges on the 1st of September.

At the end of that week, in the early charms of September, with the

sheaves glorifying the fields, the fruit glowing on the trees, the

pears drooping in russet drops, the apples piled in red and golden

heaps, the geraniums and verbenas flaming on the lawn, Felix brought

Mr. and Mrs. Froggatt, for what was probably as happy and exultant

a visit as ever they paid in their joint lives. To see Felix in his

glory was almost as much to them as if he had been their own child,

and they were intimate enough to make it possible to provide for their

entertainment perfectly to their satisfaction. The home-farm, which was

to be let to Major Harewood, with a tariff for the articles needed for

family consumption, afforded Mrs. Froggatt great amusement in studying

chickens and ducks; and the agent's house, a pretty cottage on the

opposite bank, was being improved at John's expense, so as to be ready

for occupation as soon as he could effect his retirement and break up

from Woolwich; and every one knows the resource house-building is to

the leisurely holiday-maker. Indeed, Mr. Froggatt wanted nothing but

his book and newspaper, and a little talk and garden fancying; and

the petting Cherry and Stella gave him. The tender reverent affection

all the young people showed to both, as to their true friends and

benefactors, warmed their hearts.

One state-dinner--in spite of his disavowal of dinner visiting--Felix

had always resolved to give, chiefly for the sake of the satisfaction

he knew Mrs. Froggatt would for ever feel in it. He had to pick the

other guests, but he secured a sufficiency. Dr. May had promised

himself and his two daughters. Of Mrs. Staples Cherry was afraid, but

Mr. Staples came, and Mr. and Mrs. Welsh, which was the more amiable

in him because there had been a time in his life when Mr. and Mrs.

Froggatt would have been far above him. Lord Ernest came down from

Penbeacon, and thus, with the Harewoods and the large home-party, the

numbers were quite imposing; especially with the display of all the

plate, champagne, ices, Krishnu, and even Cherry's abomination, a hired

waiter in white gloves!

It was not thrown away. Mrs. Froggatt was indeed a little awed in the

Bismarck brocade and blonde cap she would have been so sorry not to

have aired; but Dr. May found the way to her heart, even before dinner,

by admiring the testimonial inkstand which adorned the drawing-room

writing-table, and its story and all it led to lasted more than half

through dinner, and Gertrude caught echoes even while fraternizing

with Major Harewood over her brother in the engineers. After dinner,

good-natured little Mrs. Welsh, to the manner trained, took to

entertaining the old lady, and though the style was too electioneering

for Cherry's taste, it suited the purpose exactly, and made Mrs.

Froggatt pronounce her a very pretty and affable young lady.

Even if there had been less enjoyment at the time, that dinner-party

would have been one of the chief events of Mrs. Froggatt's life. She

never wearied of dilating on it to all the friends who called on her,

on her return. 'She should have thought it a privilege only to see that

dear young gentleman in his proper sphere; but for him to treat the old

people as he might any lord in the land, and show himself as attentive,

as filial, she might say, as if he still had his bread to earn!' and

there she always began to cry.

'One effect your dinner-party has had,' wrote Lance to Cherry, 'it has

wholly destroyed the small remains of Madame Tanneguy's peace of mind.

What she does not believe of the glories of the Priory it would be hard

to say. She angled full two half-hours for an invitation last time the

Squire was here, between her affection for you--and then poor little

Achille's health. And the effect upon that stony-hearted old Giant

was, that he sent two ten-pound notes to Miss Pearson, with a request

to take lodgings for her and the children at Dearport for a month.

Wherewith Miss Pearson trotted confidentially to me, to assure me that

she could not use them, since nothing on earth ailed Achille. I advised

her to keep and apply them; for not only do I know he would not take

them back, but it is no bad form of intimating that she may change to

any air save Vale Leston. And the absurd part of it is, that the more

she aspires, the more poor Lamb casts his hopeless sheep's-eyes at her!'