'A GIRL AFTER MY OWN HEART'
'Be to their virtues very kind,
Be to their faults a little blind,
And put a padlock on the mind.'
ANON.
'I will go to the Gray Cottage this afternoon,' was Audrey's first
thought the next morning when she woke; but she kept this intention to
herself when Geraldine came in, after breakfast, to beg for some
favourite recipes of her mother's that she had lost or mislaid. 'And if
you have nothing better to do,' she said, turning to Audrey, who was
filling the flower-vases, 'I shall be very glad of your company this
afternoon, as Percival is going up to London.'
'Shall you be alone, Gage? I mean, are you expecting any special
visitor?'
'Well, old Mrs. Drayton is driving over to luncheon with that deaf niece
of hers; but they will go away early--they always do. Come up later,
Audrey, and bring your work; and perhaps Michael will fetch you--it is
so long since we have seen him. I will not ask you both to stay to
dinner, as Percival is always a little tired after a journey to London,
and a _tete-a-tete_ dinner will suit him better; but we could have a
long afternoon--you know you refused me yesterday because of the
O'Briens.'
'I will come up to tea, Gage,' interrupted Audrey somewhat hastily; 'I
would rather avoid Miss Drayton, and Miss Montague is simply terrible.
You may expect me about half-past four, and I will give Michael your
message.'
And Audrey carried off her vase to avoid any more necessary questioning.
Gage seemed always wanting her now; was it all sisterly affection,
Audrey wondered, or a clever device to counteract the Blake influence?
'By the bye, mother,' observed Mrs. Harcourt carelessly, as she gathered
up sundry papers, 'I suppose you will soon be leaving your card on Mrs.
Blake? Percival thought I had better call with you, and if you are
disengaged next Tuesday or Wednesday----'
'Why, that is a week hence, my love!'
'Yes, mother dear, I know; but I have so many engagements just now that
I am obliged to make my plans beforehand. Besides, we could not very
well call before--you know what a muddle they were in.'
'Yes, I remember; and Audrey helped them so nicely to get straight. Very
well, we will say Tuesday; and I really am very much obliged to Percival
for his suggestion, for after all this talk, and the things Edith Bryce
told you yesterday, I shall be quite nervous in calling alone.' But here
a significant look from her daughter checked her, and she changed the
subject rather awkwardly.
'So dear Edith has been talking again,' thought Audrey, as she stepped
out on the terrace with her empty basket; 'I almost wish I had been at
Hillside yesterday, and heard things with my own ears.' And then she
stopped to cut off a dark crimson rose that grew under the schoolroom
window, and as she did so she became aware that Mr. Blake had put down
his book and was watching her. She gave him a smile and a nod, and
walked to the other end of the garden.
'I always forget the schoolroom window,' she said to herself, with a
slight blush, as she recalled that fixed look; 'Mr. Ollier generally sat
with his back to the window and took no notice--he was as blind as a
bat, too--but Mr. Blake is very observant.'
Mrs. Ross had arranged to drive into Dulverton after luncheon with her
husband. When Audrey had seen them off, and had exchanged a parting joke
with her father, she started off for the Gray Cottage. Things had
arranged themselves admirably: she had two hours before Geraldine would
expect her. Michael had consented to fetch her--Kester was coming to him
early in the afternoon, and he had also promised to take a class for Dr.
Ross; he would put in an appearance about half-past five. And Audrey
professed herself satisfied with this arrangement.
Audrey met Kester on her way to the Cottage. The poor boy was dragging
himself along rather painfully on his crutches; the heat tried him, he
said, but he seemed bright and cheerful. Audrey looked pitifully at his
shabby jacket and old boots; she noticed, too, the frayed edges of his
wristbands. 'Is it poverty or bad management?' she thought; and then she
asked Kester how he liked his new tutor. The boy flushed up in a moment.
'Awfully--I like him awfully, Miss Ross, and so does Cyril. You have no
idea of the trouble he takes with me; I know nothing of mathematics, but
I mean to learn. Why,' went on Kester, with an important air, 'I am so
busy now, working up for Cyril and Captain Burnett, that I can hardly
find time for Mollie's sums and Latin.'
Evidently Kester did not wish to be pitied for his additional labours.
'Poor fellow, how happy he looks!' Audrey said to herself, as she went
on. 'Michael is doing good work there.' But somehow she could not forget
those frayed wristbands all the remainder of the day; there was a button
off his jacket, too--she had noticed the unsightly gap. 'I wish Mrs.
Blake had a little more method,' she thought; 'Mollie and Kester are
certainly rather neglected. How could poor Mollie go to chapel in that
frock?'
Audrey let herself in at the green gate; but this time there was no
Mollie on the threshold. She rang, and Biddy came hobbling out of the
kitchen.
'The mistress is in there,' she said, with a jerk of her head towards
the dining-room, and then she threw open the door. 'Here's Miss Ross,
mistress,' she said unceremoniously.
Biddy was evidently unaccustomed to parlour work. Mollie, who was sewing
in the window beside her mother, threw down her work with a delighted
exclamation, and Zack gave a bark of recognition. Mrs. Blake welcomed
her very cordially.
'My dear Miss Ross,' she said in her soft, pretty voice, 'we thought you
had quite forsaken us; poor Mollie has been as restless as possible. I
cannot tell you how pleased I am to see you again; I was half afraid you
had disappeared altogether, after the fashion of a benevolent brownie.'
'I have so many friends,' began Audrey; but Mrs. Blake interrupted her:
'There, I told you so, Mollie. I said to this foolish child, when she
was bemoaning your absence, "You may take my word for it, Mollie, Miss
Ross has a large circle of friends and acquaintances--it is only to be
expected in her position--and of course we must not monopolise her;
especially as we are new-comers and comparative strangers."'
'Mollie thinks differently--don't you, Mollie? We are quite old friends,
are we not?' and Audrey gave her a kind glance.
How flushed and tired the poor child was looking! but she brightened up
in a moment.
'Of course we are not strangers,' she returned, quite indignantly;
'mamma is only saying that because she wishes you to contradict her. Oh,
Miss Ross,' nestling up to her, 'I have so wanted to see you--I have
looked out for you every day!'
'I could not possibly come before, dear.'
'No--but now you will stay for a long time? Mamma, won't you ask Miss
Ross to stay to tea? and Biddy will bake some scones. Biddy will do
anything for Miss Ross; she said so the other day.'
'My dear child, I could not possibly stay; I am going to have tea with
my sister--she lives in one of the Hill houses. Another time, Mollie,'
as a cloud of disappointment passed over Mollie's face; and to divert
her thoughts she took up the work: 'Why, what pretty stuff! is this for
your new frock?'
Mollie's brow cleared like magic.
'Yes; is it not lovely? Cyril chose it; he bought it for my last
birthday, only mamma was too busy to make it up. But both my frocks will
be done to-night--mamma says she will not go to bed until they are
finished.'
'Well, and I mean to keep my word,' returned Mrs. Blake good-humouredly;
'and your new hat will be trimmed, too, and then Cyril will not grumble
any more about his sister's shabbiness. I have been working like a slave
ever since I got up this morning, and yet this naughty child pretended
she was tired because I wanted her to stitch the sleeves.'
'But, mamma, I had to iron all those handkerchiefs for Biddy.'
'Yes, I know--and it was terribly hot in the kitchen; she does look
tired, does she not, Miss Ross? I have a good idea, Mollie: put down
that sleeve, and I will finish it myself in a twinkling, and fetch your
hat and go down to the cricket-field and bring Cyril back with you to
tea--it will be a nice walk for you.'
'Oh, mamma!' protested Mollie; 'I would so much rather stay here with
you and Miss Ross, and I don't care about the walk.'
'But if I wish you to go;' and there was a certain inflection in Mrs.
Blake's soft voice which evidently obliged poor Mollie to obey. She rose
reluctantly, but there were tears of vexation in her eyes. Audrey felt
grieved for her favourite, but she was unwilling to interfere; she only
took the girl's hand and detained her a moment.
'Mrs. Blake, could you spare Mollie to me to-morrow afternoon? I want to
show her our garden--it is looking so lovely just now.'
'You are very kind,' hesitating slightly; 'but are you sure that it will
be convenient to Mrs. Ross?'
'My mother has nothing to do with it--Mollie will be my visitor,'
returned Audrey quietly; and then she continued diplomatically: 'I know
my mother intends to call on you next week, Mrs. Blake; she and my
sister were planning it this morning--they are only waiting until you
are settled.'
Evidently Mrs. Blake was much pleased with this piece of intelligence;
she coloured slightly, and her manner became more animated.
'That is very kind; I do so long to see Mrs. Ross: Cyril is charmed with
her, and he thinks Mrs. Harcourt wonderfully handsome. Oh yes, I can
easily spare Mollie; and her frock and hat will be all ready. Now off
with you, child,' with laughing peremptoriness; and Mollie only paused
to kiss her friend and whisper that she was quite happy now, as she
would have her all to herself the next day.
'Mollie has got to a difficult age,' observed Mrs. Blake, stitching
rapidly as she spoke; and Audrey again admired the lovely profile and
finely shaped head; 'she is getting a little self-willed and wants her
own way. And then she is such a chatterbox; she will hardly let me get
in a word. Sometimes I like to have my friends to myself; you can
understand that, Miss Ross?'
'Oh yes, that is easily understood,' returned Audrey, who nevertheless
missed Mollie.
'I thought I could talk to you more easily without her this afternoon; I
wanted to speak to you about your cousin--Captain Burnett is your
cousin, is he not?'
'He is my father's cousin.'
'Ah, well, that is much the same. Is he a pale, slight-looking man with
a reddish-brown moustache?'
'Certainly that description suits Michael. I think he has such a nice
face, Mrs. Blake.'
'I daresay; he is not handsome, but he looks like a soldier. What keen,
bright eyes he has! The children have talked about him so much that I
was quite curious to see him.'
'It is certain that you have seen him; no one else in Rutherford answers
to that description. It is odd how everyone makes that remark about
Michael's eyes.'
'Yes, they are a little too searching. I have plenty of courage, but I
am disposed to feel afraid of Captain Burnett. What I wanted to say,
Miss Ross, is this--that I am truly grateful to your cousin for his kind
interest in my poor boy.'
'Do you mean this as a message?'
'That is just as you think proper; but in my opinion he ought to know
how much Kester's mother appreciates his kindness. When I first heard of
the plan, I will confess to you honestly, Miss Ross, I was a little bit
alarmed. Kester did not explain things properly--he would have it that
Captain Burnett meant to give him lessons here, and I told Cyril that
would never do. Cyril was a trifle bothered about it himself, until he
had a talk with Captain Burnett and found out that Kester was to go to
Woodcote.'
'Oh yes, of course; Michael intended that all along.'
'True, and I ought not to have flurried myself. But if you only knew
what I went through at Headingly, and the unkind things that people said
of me! A burnt child dreads the fire, and I was determined that no one
should have an opportunity of speaking against me at Rutherford. What a
hard world it is, Miss Ross! Just because I am--well'--with a little
laugh--'what you call good-looking--why should I deny the truth? I am
sure I care little about my looks except for Cyril's sake; but just
because I am not plain, people take advantage of my unprotected
position. Oh, the things that were said!' with a quick frown of
annoyance at the recollection. 'I daresay some of them have reached your
ears. Haven't you heard, for example, that I tried to set my cap at Dr.
Forester, only his daughter grew alarmed and insulted me so grossly that
I vowed never to speak to him again? Have you not heard that, Miss
Ross?'
Audrey was obliged to confess that something of this story had reached
her.
'But I did not believe it, Mrs. Blake, and I do not believe it now,' she
continued hastily.
Mrs. Blake's eyes filled with indignant tears.
'It was not true--not a word of it!' she returned in a low vehement
voice. 'You may ask Cyril. Oh, how angry he was when the report reached
him! He came home and took me in his arms and said we should not stay
there--no one should talk against his mother. They did say such horrid
things against me, Miss Ross; and yet how could I help Dr. Forester
calling on me sometimes? He was never invited--no one asked him to
repeat his visits. Mollie will tell you I was barely civil to him. I
suppose he admired me, that is the truth; and his daughter knew it, and
it made her bitter. Well, after that, I declared that nothing would
induce me to receive gentlemen again, unless they were Cyril's friends
and he brought them himself.'
Audrey was silent. She had been very angry when Geraldine had told her
the story. She had declared it was a pure fabrication--a piece of
village gossip.
'Besides, if it were true,' she had continued, 'where is the harm of a
wealthy widower, with one daughter, falling in love with a good-looking
widow? And yet Edith Bryce seems to hint darkly at some misconduct on
Mrs. Blake's part.'
'You are putting it too strongly, dear,' replied her sister. 'Edith only
said she considered Mrs. Blake rather flippant in manner, and a little
too gracious to gentlemen----' but Audrey had refused to hear more.
'I was utterly wretched at Headingly,' went on Mrs. Blake, in her sweet,
plaintive voice; 'and Cyril grew to hate it at last--for my sake. He
says he is sure it will be different here, and that people are so much
nicer. I believe he thinks you angelic, Miss Ross, and your mother only
a degree less so. Only last night he said to me, as we were walking up
and down in the moonlight, "I am certain you will be happy at
Rutherford, mother. You have one nice friend already, and----" But,
there, I had better not repeat my boy's words.'
Audrey felt anxious to change the subject.
'Where did you live before you went to Headingly?' she asked abruptly,
and Mrs. Blake was clever enough to take her cue.
'We were in lodgings in Richmond,' she answered readily. 'You know we
were poor, and I was straining every nerve to keep Cyril at Oxford. I
had been saving up every year for it, but I cannot deny we were sadly
pinched. I had to send Biddy home for a year or two, and Mollie and
Kester and I lived in three little rooms, in such a dull street. Cyril
generally got a holiday engagement for the summer, but when he joined
us--I procured him a bedroom near us--it used to make him very unhappy
to see the way we lived. But I always comforted him by reminding him
that one day he would make a home for us, and that cheered him up.'
'You were certainly very good to him. Some mothers would not have done
half so much,' observed Audrey.
She was repaid for this little speech, as a smile, almost infantile in
its sweetness, came to Mrs. Blake's lip.
'I wish Cyril could hear you say that. But he knows--he feels--I have
done my best for him. Yes, my darling, I have indeed!' She clasped her
hands and sighed. 'What did a little extra work, a few sacrifices,
matter, when one looked to the future? We were very straitened--the poor
children did not always have what they needed--but I don't think we
were, any of us, unhappy.'
'I can so well understand that. I think people are too much afraid of
being poor. I could never see, myself, why poverty should hinder
happiness.'
'Do you not?' looking at her a little curiously; 'but you have not
served my apprenticeship. You do not know how hard it is for a
pleasure-loving nature to be deprived of so many sources of
enjoyment--to have to stint one's taste for pretty things--to be
perpetually saying "no" to one's self.'
'And yet you own that you were happy.'
'Well, yes, after a fashion. I think the poor children were, until
Kester got so ill. Mollie and I used to walk about Richmond Park and
build castles in the air. We planned what we would do if we were rich,
and sometimes we would amuse ourselves by looking into the shop-windows
and thinking what we should like to buy--like a couple of gutter
children--and sometimes, on a winter's evening, we would blow out the
candles and sit round the fire and tell stories.'
'And then you say Kester fell ill?'
'Well, it was not exactly an illness. But he seemed to dwindle and pine,
somehow, and Cyril and I got dreadfully anxious about him. I don't think
Richmond suited him, and I could not give him the comforts he needed;
and he fretted so about his want of education. He seemed to get better
directly we went to Headingly and Cyril began to give him lessons.'
'Yes, I see;' and then Audrey took advantage of the pause to look at her
watch. It was later than she thought, and she rose reluctantly to go.
Mrs. Blake rose too.
'Don't you think me an odd, unconventional sort of person to tell you
all this?' she asked a little abruptly. 'Do you know, Cyril often says
that I make him very anxious, because I am so dreadfully impulsive and
speak out everything I think; but I made up my mind that afternoon when
Cyril told me that Mrs. Bryce was a connection of your sister's that I
would talk to you about the Headingly worries on the first opportunity.'
'I am very glad you have spoken to me; I think it was very brave of
you.'
'No, my dear Miss Ross, not brave, but cowardly. I was so afraid you
would be prejudiced against me; and you must know that I have taken a
great fancy to you. I am a very strange creature: I always like or
dislike a person at first sight, and I never--perhaps I should say I
scarcely ever--change my opinion.'
'I think that is a great mistake. It is impossible to read some people
at first sight.'
'Perhaps so; but you were distinctly legible. When I looked out of my
window and saw you setting out the little tea-table on the lawn with
Mollie, I said to myself, "That is a girl after my own heart."'
Audrey laughed; but the little compliment pleased her. Somehow Mrs.
Blake's manner made everything she said seem charming. Audrey felt more
and more drawn to this fascinating woman.
'And I want you to come very often, and to be my friend as well as
Mollie's,' with soft insistence.
'Yes; yours and Mollie's and Kester's,' replied Audrey in an amused
voice.
'And not Cyril's? My dear Miss Ross, I hope you do not mean to exclude
Cyril.'
'Oh, of course not,' rather hurriedly. 'But, Mrs. Blake, you must really
let me go, or Geraldine will be waiting tea; as it is, I shall have to
walk very fast, to make up for lost time.'
Audrey's thoughts were very busy as she walked swiftly up the Hill.
'I like her--I like her exceedingly,' she said to herself; 'I have never
met a more interesting person: she is so naive and winning in her
manner. I feel I shall soon love her; and yet all the time I see her
faults so plainly. She is terribly unpractical, and manages as badly as
possible. Edith Bryce was right when she said that. And she is foolish
with regard to her eldest son--no mother ought to be so partial. I am
afraid Kester must feel it; all his interests are secondary to his
brother's. It is hardly fair. And Mollie, too--the child seems a
perfect drudge. No, my dear woman, I admire you more than I can say,
and I know I shall very soon get fond of you; but you are not
blameless.'
And then a curious doubt crept into Audrey's mind: with all her
impulsiveness, was not Mrs. Blake rather a clever woman, to tell that
Forester story in her own way? Audrey had already heard a very different
version. She knew Agatha Forester had lived in deadly terror of the
charming widow. It was true that she had declined to believe the story,
and that her sympathies were enlisted on Mrs. Blake's side; but, still,
was it not rather a clever stratagem on Mrs. Blake's part to secure her
as an ally? But Audrey dismissed this thought as quickly as it passed
through her mind.
'Why, what nonsense!' she argued. 'I am accusing Mrs. Blake of being a
little deep, when she herself owned frankly that she was anxious to
prejudice me in her favour. Of course she knew Edith Bryce would talk to
Gage, and it was only wise of her to tell me the truth. People must have
treated her very badly at Headingly, or her son would not have taken her
part. He seems to have plenty of common-sense, although he dotes on her.
They are a wonderfully interesting family, and I seem to know them all
so well already.' And this last reflection brought her to Hillside.