SLOWLY GAINING GROUND
COLONEL DERMOT turned up punctually at tea-time the next afternoon. It
was laid in the drawing-room, and the children were invited down for
the occasion. Ruffie was much excited, and when his godfather greeted
him, he cried:
"We're all new here, Uncle Morky; we've new clothes, and curtains
and carpets, and flowers in the 'servatory. And new servants and new
governess—and—"
Here he hesitated for a moment, then added boldly: "A new mother."
"I heartily congratulate you," said Colonel Dermot.
Then he sat down by Ruffie's cushioned chair, and Josie and Georgie
edged up beside him. It was easy to see that he and the children were
on very friendly terms, so Anstice having a letter to write left them
together, till tea was brought in by Brenda.
"What do you think of her?" Josie asked in a piercing whisper, directly
Anstice had disappeared.
"I'd rather hear your opinion first," said Colonel Dermot shrewdly.
"Josie keeps saying she may be a witch in disguise," said Ruffie
eagerly; "but I say she's a princess in disguise. And do you know me
and she are going to make a book, and have it printed so that every one
will read it? She's writing the story, and I'm doing the pictures, and
she bought a little wooden figure from Penrith, which I can copy for my
figures; it moves its joints any way you like to put them."
"She writes a chapter every day, and reads it to us every evening," put
in Georgie; "it's ripping! We hate it when she gets up suddenly and
says: 'To be continued in our next,' for that means bedtime."
"We're just trying her for a month," said Josie grandly; "if she turns
out different, and gets nasty or silly like all the rest, we'll just do
to her what we did to the others."
"But, you skallywag, she's not a governess but your father's wife! And
now I'll tell you what I think of her. I think your Dad has picked out
the most beautiful woman and the most lovable in the whole world. And
if I hadn't my own dear little wife at home waiting for me, and if she
were not already married to your Dad, I would pick her up and run away
with her, and marry her myself before you could say Jack Robinson."
The children looked at him with big eyes. "Uncle Morky," as they always
called him, was a prime favourite of theirs, and his opinion had weight
in their eyes.
"We shouldn't let you take her," said Ruffie in a bristling tone. "We'd
fight for her."
"Hum!" said Josie, considering. "Georgie and me aren't sure about that.
We'll see when the end of this month comes."
"You don't know when you're well off! Here's Brenda coming in. What a
tea! You never had teas like this when I was here last."
"It's Mrs. Parkins," said Georgie, dancing round the heavily laden tray
of cakes and bread and butter which Brenda was carrying. "She sends us
hot cakes and scones every day, and you're a visitor, so we have an
extra lot. I think Dad would like these teas."
"He ought to be here," said Colonel Dermot emphatically. "I'll write
and tell him what I think of him."
And when he got back to Mrs. Wykeham's that evening, he wrote the
following letter before he retired to bed:
"DEAR JUSTIN,—
"I'm going to give you a thorough drubbing with my pen. What do you
mean by keeping your marriage a secret from me? I've just come back
from a visit to my small godson. And I can tell you the change in your
place makes one sit up. You've flung a young and charming bride into
our midst, as you would your line into the lake, and then you've run
off and left her! Give me the key to such an enigma! She has such a
dignity about her that I daren't ask inquisitive questions, but I've
gathered that you met her at your Aunt Lucy's; that you must have
fallen suddenly and violently in love with her, and married her on the
hop. But why you've deserted her as quickly as you married her is past
my comprehension! Enlighten your old pal a bit! I can tell you that
she's too good a sort to be served such a shabby trick, and though
she carries it off with a high hand, you're placing her in a false
position. Come back, you villain, or justify yourself in the sight of—
"Yours,
"J. D."
And by the same post went Anstice's first letter to her husband. She
sat for a long time at her open window with her writing pad on her
knee. She had a strange shrinking from the effort, and yet she steeled
herself to do it, for she felt that it was her duty to cement the band
between them, and not loosen it.
She tore up three attempts.
The first was a bald statement of facts, the second an apologetic
justification of all the changes which she had seen fit to make in the
house, and the third an account solely and wholly of his children.
Then she tried again, and this time let her pen run on easily and
pleasantly as was natural and unpremeditated.
"DEAR JUSTIN,—
"I promised to write to you, so I must not forget to do so. I hardly
know how to begin. But I will ease your mind first about your small
people. I find them quite delightful, naughtiness and all. I am still
on probation as far as Josie and Georgie go, but Ruffie has surrendered
absolutely, and he and I are real chums. I discovered that he was the
instigator of most of his sister's pranks. His the master brain, they
his willing tools. He would concoct schemes to annoy and distress the
poor governesses, depict them in his wonderful notebook and the girls
would carry them out with alacrity. In turning over the pages of his
book and admiring his genius, I came upon several premeditated plots
against myself. I laughed till I cried at some of them. I have managed
to turn his genius in another direction, and he and I are going to
produce a book together which will surprise you one day.
"I have secured Mrs. Fergusson as governess. What a charming and
interesting woman she is! I feel I should like to do lessons myself
with her. She has asked me if she cannot have Ruffie as a third pupil.
Have you any objection to this? As you cannot answer quickly, and
perhaps may feel rather bored at being asked to do it at all, I think
I shall make the experiment. She is too wise a teacher to overwork so
fragile and precocious a brain as Ruffie's. He does remind me so much
of little Paul Dombey. But as his brain is so active, I think a little
schoolroom knowledge and discipline would be good for him. He is wild
with delight at the prospect. If any headaches come, I will stop the
lessons at once. Josie and Georgie are all the better for hard work.
They have been suffering from too many idle hours. I mean to keep them
both busy and happy; so busy and interested in useful occupation, that
they will have no time for mischief. Their energy or dynamic force has,
I hope, been directed into the right channels. I feel this is rather à
la governess; but if I'm not their governess, I have come here to give
them the training they need, have I not?
"Perhaps this is enough about the children. I am revelling in your
wild Fells, and sweet luscious pasture lands, they are so intermingled
that one cannot separate them, and it is the combination that I find
so fascinating. What has surprised me is the number of people residing
round the lake. I pictured your home in the wilds; but it is nothing of
the sort. They say our neighbours are mostly summer visitors, and that
in the winter they shut up their houses and go South, but I have come
across several who do not do this. I have been to lunch with your old
friend Mrs. Wykeham; I have made acquaintance with Colonel Dermot, who
naturally is very curious over our marriage. I shall become a very good
dissembler, for I have to parry and evade many an awkward question.
"At present, I am content to be out of society. The Fells and lake
when I want quiet meditation; the children when I want active
recreation; and the house and its needs when I want work, are enough
for me. And for friends, I have Mrs. Fergusson, whom I think a most
charming personality; and lastly, but not least, our Rector,
Mr. Bolland. I went to see his wife yesterday. They are new-comers,
so you do not know them. She reminds me of a robin. Very small,
very cheerful, with bright dark eyes and a small brown head. She is
quite an invalid, and is on her back for years, if not for life. She is
full of schemes for the good of the parishioners, and has enlisted me
as her ally. But to the Rector, I owe a deep debt of gratitude, for
without turning myself inside out, I may tell you that the whole pivot
of my life has been changed since I came here, and it is through words
of his that it has been done. I was beginning to worry over the
training of your small people. Now I feel I need never worry again
over anything!
"Is this a very egoistical letter? I hope not, for I must realize
that my private life is of no moment to you. I have asked Bob Falkland
if he has any message to send you, but all is going well. Eliza gives
us a couple of hours help every morning. This may not be necessary
when I get our full staff of domestics. Ruffie encloses one of his
latest pictures. It represents us down by the lakeside on Sunday
afternoon. Admire his colouring of water and Fells! He is a born
artist, and if spared to grow up, should be able to do something
really good. Now have I given you all the news you desire? And how
am I to sign myself?
"Just
"ANSTICE HOLME."
* * * * *
Colonel Dermot was a constant visitor at the Manor during his short
stay at the lakes.
One day he took Anstice and the children on the lake in a small
motor launch belonging to the Wykehams; another day he went off for
a nine-mile walk over the Fells with Anstice; he came to lunch; he
came to tea; and when he finally left the neighbourhood, he paid his
farewell visit after dinner.
It was a most lovely evening, and he and Anstice strolled down to the
lake and sat beside it.
"I can't picture you here in the winter," he said, "but I suppose
Justin will be back before then."
"He went for a six months' cruise. That will bring him back in time for
Christmas," said Anstice.
"You must cure him of his restlessness."
"Well, I don't know," said Anstice thoughtfully; "it is not much of a
life for him here. The farm is too small to give him occupation, the
estate is not much bigger. He is not old enough to settle down here for
good and all, and the love of the sea is not easily eradicated."
"Up to now he has not had much to keep him here. His house has not been
his home."
"Perhaps not."
Anstice was sitting, gazing out dreamily over the lake. And Colonel
Dermot, peculiarly susceptible to woman's charm, again wondered at
Justin's desertion.
Anstice's grace and beauty, and her strong personality, had made a very
deep impression on him.
He suddenly said:
"How much, how well do you know each other, I wonder?"
Anstice laughed.
"Ah! That's our secret," she said. "I am not going to dissect my
husband's character. But I agree with you that he has had a miserable
home here for years."
"And it has warped and twisted his whole being," said Colonel Dermot.
"As a youngster, he was a radiant specimen of youth and high spirits.
Marriage in his case was his undoing. I was abroad for three years,
and could not believe when I saw him that such a transformation in
character could be effected in so short a time."
"Perhaps it was only on the surface," said Anstice.
"No, the bitterness had gone deeper than that. You women have much to
answer for. But I knew his wife as a girl, and was not surprised. I'm
telling you this for old Justin's sake, as he's not such a bad chap at
heart."
"I'm quite aware of that."
The amusement in Anstice's eyes drove Colonel Dermot to an apology.
"I'm so confoundedly glad that you and he came together that I'm
letting my tongue run away with me. But you mustn't shut yourself away
from people as you do. It's cruel on them. We haven't too many charming
acquaintances round. And housekeeping and nursery talk can't satisfy a
woman with such gifts as yours."
"Oh, come! What gifts have I? I can talk and laugh, and listen, not
much else."
"Do you want the truth from me?"
Something in his tone and look made Anstice say hastily:
"No, I think not. And I know my own limitations. I feel friendly
disposed towards every one, but I've a certain amount of home duties
which cannot be neglected. I came here to do certain things in my
husband's absence. I do not want to be hindered from carrying out my
plans."
"Don't be too conscientious," advised Colonel Dermot. "Let your natural
impulses have a chance."
They talked on together. He found her elusive directly he tried to get
to close quarters, and when he got up to go, he sighed heavily.
"I think I must come down in the autumn and have some more rambles over
the Fells with you. Perhaps when you have tasted real loneliness, you
will be kinder to me."
"I could not be kinder than I feel at present," replied Anstice with
her frank, sweet smile; "as my husband's old friend, and Ruffie's
godfather, I look upon you as my friend also, and shall always be glad
to see you when you are in our neighbourhood. Good-bye."
She gave him her hand, which he deliberately raised to his lips, and as
he strode away, he murmured to himself:
"I wish I had the power to penetrate her outer crust. She is too
warm-blooded a creature to be so sweetly indifferent. If Justin does
not appreciate her, he will find that others do."
When Anstice met Mrs. Wykeham a few days later, she was chaffed lightly
upon her friendship with the Colonel.
"He has spent most of his time with you, and if you were not both
suitably married, I should say you were made for one another."
"He is my husband's friend," protested Anstice, "and my husband's
friends will always, I hope, be mine."
Her quiet dignity and ease of manner stopped Mrs. Wykeham's banter.
"Well, my dear, I consider myself one of your husband's oldest friends,
so I expect to see more of you than I have done already. I am giving a
garden-party next Thursday. Don't give me any excuses, but come."
"Thank you. I will."
But when the day came, Anstice felt loath to meet her neighbours.
One or two had already called, and each visit had been somewhat of a
strain. She was really delighted to see the heavy clouds roll up from
the Fells, and come down in a steady downpour at three o'clock and
onwards. Loneliness had no terror for her. She was perfectly content
with her simple, lonely life. And for the present she much preferred
being out of all social festivities.
A little later she agreed to play the organ for the Sunday services.
Josie and Georgie were quite willing to sit by her side. Josie
especially took the greatest interest in the organ, and even asked to
attend the choir practices. She was passionately fond of music, and was
getting on splendidly under Mrs. Fergusson's tuition. Their behaviour
was blameless for the first two Sundays, and then Josie's love of
mischief got the better of her. In the middle of the Venite, she got
behind Anstice, put out her hand, and pulled out a very loud stop. The
result was an awful blast of sound, and a shocked congregation.
Anstice's face was really stern as she turned to Josie when the service
was over.
"Did you think it fine to disgrace yourself and me by such a feat?" she
asked her when they were walking home.
Josie grinned.
"She'd better not go to church any more," said Georgie with alacrity,
"and I'll keep her company at home."
"I think her disgrace would be then complete," said Anstice gravely.
"A girl of ten years old who does not know how to behave in church,
and has to stay at home lest she should prove a nuisance to the
congregation, is indeed to be pitied."
Not a word more did she say. But for the rest of the day she ignored
Josie, never speaking to her at all. And this was such a new procedure
that Josie was first indignant and then repentant. At bedtime, it was
Anstice's custom to visit them each in turn for a good night kiss. The
little girls slept together in two small beds. On this Sunday night
Anstice went to Georgie's bed as usual, but having wished her good
night, she looked as if she were going to walk straight out of the room
without noticing Josie at all. And then she seemed to alter her mind,
and came to the foot of the child's bed. For a moment Josie raised a
defiant head from her pillow.
"Have you anything to say to me?" Anstice asked.
"You're in a temper with me. I don't care!"
Down went the dark curly head under the clothes.
Anstice turned away, and left the room, but her heart was aching for
the rebellious child, and later on she visited the bedroom again.
Georgie was fast asleep, and so at first she thought was Josie; but
when she gently removed some of the bedclothes, she found a hot,
tear-stained face pressed close against the pillow.
Very gently she caressed the dark hair.
"My darling," she said, "do tell me what I want to hear."
And then Josie sprang up and surprised her by clasping her tightly
round the neck.
"Don't be against me! I'm sorry. I'll never do it again."
Anstice held her in her arms and her kiss of forgiveness was very
tender.
"We will forget all about it. But don't be mischievous in God's House
again. You would not play tricks if you were taken inside Buckingham
Palace to see the King and Queen. And church is a more important place
than any king's palace. It belongs to God, who is the King of Kings."
Then she kissed her, and left her, but there was no fear of Josie
behaving badly in church again.
Anstice was slowly but surely winning the children's love, and her
displeasure was already more to be feared in their eyes than any
punishment.