THE PALACE OF THE KINGS.
Miss Agnes Delacour was the last person to let the grass grow under her
feet. She, as she expressed it to herself, 'cornered' her
brother-in-law as soon as the five little girls tripped off to bed.
There was nothing, she said inwardly, like taking the bull by the
horns. Accordingly she attacked that ferocious beast in the form of
quiet, courteous Mr Lennox with her usual energy.
'George,' she said, 'you are angry with your poor sister.'
'Oh, not at all,' he replied. 'Pray take a seat. This chair I can
recommend as most comfortable.'
Miss Agnes accepted the chair, but pursued her own course of reasoning.
'You 're angry,' she continued, 'because I did not go to poor Lucy's
funeral.'
'We will let that matter drop,' said Lennox, his very refined face
turning slightly pale.
'But, my dear brother, we must _not_ let it drop. It is my duty to
protest, and to defend myself. There was a woman with cataract.'
'Dear Agnes, I know that story so well. I am glad the woman recovered
her sight.'
'Then you are a good Christian man, George, and we are friends once
again.'
'We were never anything else,' said Lennox.
'That being the case,' continued Miss Delacour, 'you will of course
listen to the object of my mission here.'
'I will listen, Agnes; but I do not say that I shall either comprehend
or take an interest in your so-called _mission_.'
'Ah, narrow, narrow man,' said Miss Delacour, shaking her plump finger
playfully at her host as she spoke.
'Am I narrow? I did not know it,' replied Lennox.
'Fearfully so. Think of the way you are bringing up your girls.'
'What is the matter with my lasses? I think them the bonniest and the
best in the world.'
'Poor misguided man! They are nothing of the sort.'
'If you have come here, Agnes, to abuse Lucy's children, _and_ mine, I
would rather we dropped the subject. They have nothing to do with you.
You have never until the present moment taken the slightest notice of
them. They give _me_ intense happiness. I think, perhaps, Agnes,
seeing that we differ and have always differed in every particular, it
might be as well for you to shorten your visit to The Garden.'
'Thank you. That is the sort of speech a child reared by you has
already made to me. She has, in fact, impertinent little thing,
already asked me when I am going.'
'Do you allude to Hollyhock?'
'Now, George, is it wise--is it sensible to call those children after
the flowers of the garden and the field? I assure you your manner of
bringing up your family makes me _sick_--yes, sick!'
'Oh, don't trouble about us,' said Lennox. 'We get on uncommonly well.
They are _my_ children, you know.'
'And Lucy's,' whispered Miss Delacour, her voice slightly shaking.
'I am very sorry to hurt you, Agnes; but Lucy herself--dear, sweet,
precious Lucy--liked the idea of each of the children being called
after a flower; not baptismally, of course, but in their home life.
One of the very last things she said to me before she died was, "Call
the little one Delphinium." Now, have we not talked enough on this, to
me, _most_ painful subject? My Lucy and I were one in heart and deed.'
'Alas, alas!' said Miss Delacour. 'How hard it is to get men to
understand! I knew Lucy longer than you. I brought her up; I trained
her. The good that was in her she owed to me. She has passed on--a
beautiful expression _that_--but I feel a voice within me saying--a
voice which is her voice--"Agnes, remember my children. Agnes, think
of my children. Do for them what is right. Remember their father's
great weakness."'
'Thanks,' replied Lennox. 'That voice in your breast did not come from
Lucy.'
Miss Delacour gave a short, sharp sigh.
'Oh, the ignorance of men!' she exclaimed. 'Oh, the silly, false pride
of men! They think themselves the very best in the world, whereas they
are in reality a poor, very poor lot.'
Lennox fidgeted in his chair.
'How long will this lecture take?' he said. 'As a rule I go to bed
early, as the children and I have a swim in the lake before breakfast
each morning.'
'How are they taught other things besides swimming?' asked Miss
Delacour.
'Taught?' echoed Lennox. 'For their ages they are well instructed. My
sister and I manage their education between us.'
'George, I suppose you will end by marrying again. All men in your
class and with your disposition do so.'
'Agnes, I forbid you to speak to me on that subject again. Once for
all, poor weak man as you consider me, I put down my foot, and will not
discuss that most painful subject. Lucy is the only wife I shall ever
have. I have, thank God, my sister and my sweet girls, and I do not
want anything more. I am a widower for life. Cecilia is a widow for
life. We rejoice in the thought of meeting the dear departed in a
happier world. Now try not to pain me any more. Good-night, Agnes.
You are a little--nay, _more_ than a little--trying.'
'I've not an idea of going to bed yet,' said Miss Delacour, 'for I have
not divulged my scheme. You have got to listen to it, George, whether
you like it or not.'
'I suppose I have,' said George Lennox. He sat down, and made a
violent struggle to restrain his impatience.
'I will come to the matter at once,' said Miss Delacour. 'You know, or
perhaps you do not know, how I spend my life.'
'I do not know, Agnes. You never write, and until to-day you have
never come to The Garden.'
'Well, I have come now with a purpose. Pray don't fidget so
dreadfully, George. It is really bad style. I am noted in London for
moving in the very best society. I see the men of culture and
refinement, who are always remarked for the stillness of their
attitudes.'
'Are they?' said George Lennox. 'Well, I can only say I am glad I
don't live there.'
'How Lucy _could_ have taken to you?' remarked Miss Delacour.
'Say those words again, Agnes, and _I_ shall go to bed. There are some
recent novels on the table, and you can read then till you feel sleepy.'
'Thanks; I am never sleepy when I have work to do. My work is charity;
my work is philanthropy. You know quite well that I am blessed by God
with considerable means. Often and often I go to the Bank of England
and stand by the Royal Exchange and see those noble words, "_The earth
is the Lord's, and the fulness thereof._" George, those words are _my_
text. Those words exemplify my work. "The earth is the Lord's." I
therefore, George, give of my abundance to the Lord, meaning thereby
the Lord's poor. I hate the Charity Organisation Society; but when I
see a man or a woman or even a child in our rank of life struggling
with dire poverty, when, after making strict inquiries, I find out that
the poverty is real, then I help that man, woman, or child. I live,
George, in a little house in Chelsea. I keep one servant, and one
only. I do not waste money on motor-cars or gardens or antiquated
mansions like this. I give to the Lord's poor. George, I am a very
happy woman.'
'I am glad to hear it,' said Lennox. 'Since you entered my house, I
should not have known it but for your remark.'
'Ah, indeed, I have cause for sorrow in your ridiculous house,
surrounded by your absurd children'----
'Agnes!'
'I must speak, George. I have come here for the express purpose. Dear
little Lucy wrote to me during her short married life with regard to
the Upper Glen. She wrote happily, I must confess that. She spoke of
her children as though she loved them very dearly. Would she love them
if she were alive now?'
'Agnes!'
'George, I say--I declare--that she would _not_ love them. Brought up
without discipline, without education; called after silly flowers; told
by their father to be rude to me, their _aunt_! How could she love
them?'
'Agnes, I try hard not to lose my temper; but if you go on much longer
in your present vein of talk, I greatly fear that it will depart.'
'Then let it depart,' said Miss Delacour. 'Anything to rouse the man
who is going so madly, so cruelly, to work with regard to his family.
Now then, let me see. I am ever and always one who walks straight. I
am ever and always one who has an aim in view. My present aim is to
help another. There is a dear woman--a Mrs Macintyre--true Scotch.
You will like that, George. She has been left destitute. Her husband
died; her children died. She is alone, quite alone, in the world. She
has been most highly educated, and I have taken that dear thing up.
There are in the Upper Glen three houses, or, rather, palaces, I should
call them--one where you live, one where your sister, Mrs Constable,
lives. She seems a nice, sensible sort of woman, simple in her tastes
and devoted to her sons, except for the silly names she has given them.
But both The Paddock and The Garden are small in comparison with the
middle house, which has been unoccupied since before your marriage,
George. It is a spacious and beautiful place, and my intention--my
_firm intention_, remember--is to place Mrs Macintyre there and
establish a suitable school for your girls, for other girls. Your
girls can go to her as weekly boarders. I am not yet _quite_ sure
whether I shall admit the young Constables; but I may. Mrs Macintyre
is a magnificent woman. She will secure for your children, for the
other children, for the Constables, if _I_ permit it, the best masters
and mistresses from Edinburgh. You have a motor-car, have you not?'
'Yes.'
'You did not send it to meet your sister.'
'I did not.'
'Polite, I must say; but I forgive your bad manners. I proceed in the
true Christian spirit with my scheme. The middle house in the Upper
Glen belongs, as you know well, to the great Duke of Ardshiel. It is
sometimes called Ardshiel, but more often by the title The Palace of
the Kings. Since the sad tragedy which took place there, it has stood
empty, the Duke having many other country seats and avoiding this noble
mansion because of its associations. Well, George, you know all that
story; but when Mrs Macintyre came to me in her distress and poverty I
immediately thought of Ardshiel. I thought of it as the very place in
which to start a flourishing school, of which your girls could take
full advantage.
'Accompanied by dear Mrs Macintyre, I went to see his Grace. I was
surprisingly successful in my interview. The Duke was quite charmed
with my suggestion. He was much taken also with Mrs Macintyre. In
short, he agreed to let the Palace of the Kings to my friend. I do not
think he will ask a high rent for the lovely place, and, from a very
broad hint he threw out, I expect he will give us the present
magnificent furniture. You will be expected to pay the rent--a mere
trifle. Your sister, if I admit a mixed school, will be asked to
subscribe five hundred pounds for the rearranging of the grounds. The
Duke will put the Palace into full repair, and with our united
aid--for, of course, I shall not keep back my mite--we shall have the
most flourishing school in Scotland opened and filled with pupils by
the middle of September. In fact, I consider the scheme settled.
There will be a large and flourishing school in your midst, for his
Grace would only do things in first-rate style. Now I consider the
matter accomplished. The school will be opened in September, and as I
really cannot stand any more of your fidgeting--such shocking style!--I
will wish you good-night. Of course, not a word of _thanks_ on your
part. I overlook all _those_ little politenesses. The righteous look
for their reward on _High_! Good-night, good-night! No arguments
to-night, pray. I do not wish to listen to your objections to-night.
You will naturally have them, but they will be overcome. Mrs Macintyre
is a pearl amongst women. Good-night, George; good-night.'
Miss Delacour left the room. George Lennox did not go to bed that
night until very late.
'Well,' he said to himself at last, 'I did not know I could be snubbed
by any one; but that woman, she drives me wild. However, I will call
my own children by the names I wish, and will _not_ assist her with her
school. _I_ to pay the rent, forsooth! I to send my darlings to
school, when I long ago made up my mind that they should never go to
one. Dear Cecilia to be robbed of five hundred pounds and that _pearl
of a woman_ established in our midst. Not quite, Agnes Delacour! We
of the Upper Glen resist. How I wish Hollyhock had been here to-night
when the woman attacked me! No wonder my Lucy could not abide her.
However, I am the master of my own money, and the father of my own
children. I must talk with Cecilia early to-morrow morning, or Agnes
will be at her. Dear Cecil, she would starve herself and her boys to
help any one, but she shall certainly get my views.'
Alas, however, his optimism proved ill-founded, and it so happened that
Miss Delacour paid a very early call indeed on the following morning at
The Paddock, for she slept well and woke early, whereas the Honourable
George Lennox slept badly and awoke late.
Mrs Constable was rather amazed at so early a visit from her brother's
sister-in-law. The boys rushed in, yelling the news. She was just
pouring out milk for her collection of Precious Stones when the
unabashed lady entered the spacious dining-room.
'Ah, upon my word, a nice house!' said Miss Delacour. 'How cheerful
you make everything look, dear! As sister women we can appreciate the
little niceties of life, can we not?'
'Yes, of course,' said Mrs Constable in her pleasant manner and with
her pretty, bright look. 'But what a long walk to take before
breakfast, Miss Delacour!'
'I have come on behalf of my brother-in-law.'
'Is George ill?' inquired Mrs Constable.
Miss Delacour put her finger to her lip. Then she significantly
touched her brow. Going up to Mrs Constable, she begged to have a
special talk with her all alone. Mrs Constable had thought the woman
in the thistle gown very queer the night before, and the boys had
frankly detested her; but when that admirable philanthropist went up
and dropped a word into her ear she turned a little pale, and facing
her sons, said, 'Laddies, you had best go into the back dining-room and
sup your porridge. Run, laddies; run.'
The boys gave their mother an adoring glance, scowled ferociously at
Miss Delacour, and left the room. Over their coffee, hot rolls, and
marmalade, Miss Delacour propounded her scheme--her great, her
wonderful scheme.
It is well to be first in the field, and Miss Delacour could speak with
eloquence. She was a real philanthropist, and she appealed to the kind
heart of Mrs Constable.