_Miles Trevor to his Mother_.
Dearest Mater,--A merry Christmas to you all! I can hardly believe it
is nearly four years since I said good-bye and came out here, though
there are times, when I am down on my luck, when it seems more like a
hundred. One doesn't have much time for moping during the day, but the
evenings are the trying times, when one wonders what on earth made him
such an idiot as to leave the dear old country. In saner moments I'm
precious glad I did, for I shouldn't have had half the chance of getting
on at home. The manager went off for a holiday last week and left me in
charge, and I'm thankful to say all has gone well. It was my chance of
showing what I could do, and I was determined to make the most of it.
All the same, I am sorry at times that I did not go in for mining, as I
once thought of doing, you remember. My chum Gerard is going ahead at a
great rate. He came out here without a penny, and has simply worked his
way through the different processes in the big Aladdin Mine with which
we are connected. He took the most profitable stages first, and when he
had saved up a little money went in for the ones which paid least, until
he had a real practical working knowledge of everything from start to
finish. Of course he had had no training at home, or this would not
have been necessary, but as he is a beggar to work, and a genius at
making other people work too, he has risen to the post of sub-manager,
and as soon as he has saved enough money is going prospecting on his own
account. He has promised me a share in his gold-mine when it is
discovered, and you may trust Gerard to find one if it is in existence,
so you may see us home together some fine day to float our company.
The sooner it comes the better, or everything and everyone will be
changed out of knowledge! It is beyond my imaginative powers to think
of Jill as a young lady with her hair up, and Jack at Oxford, and Betty
"an old maid." (There's not much of the old maid about that photograph
she sent out last mail!) All the fellows admire it tremendously, and it
gives quite an air of beauty and fashion to my little cabin. I never
thought Betty would turn out so pretty, but there's no denying that she
looks a lot older. Tell Pam not to grow up if she loves me! I want to
find _someone_ the same as when I left!
Glad to hear the General and Mrs Digby are still happy and satisfied
with each other, and that pretty Mrs, Vanburgh's little boy is all right
again. Remember me to them, and to Cynthia Alliot when you see her. Is
she well? You have not mentioned her lately.
Many thanks to father for the papers; you can hardly imagine how welcome
they are out here, or how eagerly one looks forward to mail days. Tell
that lazy Jill to write to a fellow now and then. She shall have no
nuggets out of my El Dorado if she doesn't. Yes, I'm all right! Don't
worry about me, dear. I had a bit of a breakdown a month or two ago,
but Gerard nursed me almost as well as you could have done yourself. He
is the best chum a man could have. Love to everybody, and most of all
to yourself, dearest mater.--From your son, Miles.
_Betty Trevor to her Brother Miles_.
Dearest old Lad,--I missed the last mail, so I must send you an extra
long scrawl to make up. Thanks so much for your last batch of
photographs. I am glad you marked the names on the back, for really it
is difficult to believe that that ferocious-looking bearded person is
really you! I am glad you have promised to shave it off before you come
home, for--honestly speaking--it's not becoming! Mr Gerard looks just
a shade less disreputable than yourself, but I like him because he is
nice to you. You can give him my kind regards.
I've had ever such a good time since I wrote last, staying with the
Rendell girls--Nan Vanburgh's sisters, you know, whom you met at that
first historic party. They are dears, and so amusing that it's as good
as a play to be with them. Elsie is married, and Lilias, the beauty, is
engaged--to a clergyman, if you please. Everyone is surprised, for she
has always been rather selfish and worldly, and cared only for people
who were rich and grand, and Mr Ross is not like that. He is rather
old, nearly forty, I think, and rather delicate, and very grave, and not
a bit well off, and he thinks Lilias a miracle of goodness and
sweetness, and the nice part is that she really _is_ growing nicer,
because she likes him so much, and doesn't want him to be disappointed.
They are all awfully pleased, and Agatha and Christabel think it will be
great sport to be the only girls in the house, and have no elder sister
left to rule over them. The brother, Ned, is in love with the girls'
great friend, Kitty Maitland, but she snubs him, though the girls say
she likes him all the time, and only does it to pay him back for the way
he used to snub her as a child, and because he is so conceited that she
thinks it will do him good. He really _is_ a good deal spoiled by all
those six sisters.
You see everybody seems to be falling in love and getting married except
me, and I shall be an old maid. I don't like anyone, and I don't like
anyone to like me. I feel quite angry if anyone pays me the least
attention, and yet I'm lonely inside. Oh, Miles, why did you go so far
away, and turn into a great bearded stranger, when I wanted you at home
to talk to every day? I hate Mexico, and the valley, and the mine, and
"my chum Gerard"--"my chum Gerard" most of all, because I'm so jealous
of him. What business had he to nurse you, I should like to know! But
I pity him, if you were as cross as you used to be when you had a cold
in the old days, and had to put your feet into mustard and water! How
well I remember it! First the water was too hot, then it was too cold,
and in the end there, was no water left in the bath, and the furniture
was afloat. Jack is not half so _difficile_ as you used to be! He has
grown such a dear old thing, just as merry and mischievous as ever, but
so kind, and thoughtful, and nice all round. Father is very proud of
him, and he is the old General's special pet, and half lives there when
he is at home. As for Jill, she is a MINX in capital letters. So
pretty and gay, and funny and charming, and naughty and nice, and
aggravating and coaxing, and lazy and reckless, and altogether different
from everybody else, that my poor little nose is quite out of joint, and
I heard an impertinent young man speaking of me the other night as "Jill
Trevor's sister"! That's what I have descended to, after all my lofty
ambitions--_Jill's sister_! How furious I should have been in the old
days, but now I don't seem to mind. Are you changed very much, old
Miles? Inside, I mean, I'm not thinking of the horrid beard. You are
such a reserved person that your letters leave one in ignorance of the
real _you_. "My chum Gerard" knows you better than I do nowadays. What
an awful thought! Life seems so different now from what it did at
eighteen, and all one's ideals are changed. I had my usual yearly
"token" from my friend of the fog this spring--just a newspaper posted
from New York, as before, so that I know he is alive and well, but I
long to know more, and sometimes it seems as if I never should.
Sometimes--when I am in the blues--I feel as if that night was the only
time in my life when I was really and truly of use. I suppose that's
what makes me remember it so well, and think so much of the poor man. I
can remember his face still--so distinctly! Poor, poor fellow! Father
says it's more difficult than ever to make money nowadays. He may work
all his life, and never be able to pay off his debts.
Cynthia! No; Cynthia is _not_ well. We didn't tell you before, because
it's horrid to write bad news, and you two were good friends. Besides,
we hoped she would get better. It began six months ago with an attack
of influenza. She did not seem to throw it off, but grew thin, and
coughed--a horrid cough! They took her away, and did everything they
could, but so far she is no better, and I'm afraid there's no doubt that
her lungs are affected. Mrs Alliot is awfully anxious, and so is her
father, who has retired now, as you know, and is home for good. They
have taken her away to the sea, and she lives out of doors, and has a
nurse, and everything that can possibly be got to make her better. She
is very thin, but is quite bright and cheerful, and thinks about
everybody in the world but herself. They hope she will get better; she
_must_ get better--she's so young, and dear, and lovely, and everything
that's sweet. I can't tell you what Cynthia has been to me all these
years! Pray for her, Miles--pray _hard_! I rend the heavens for
Cynthia's life.
That's all, old boy--I have no more news. Bother the nuggets! Come
home the instant you can. Father doesn't believe in gold-mines. Don't
let "my chum Gerard" lead you into any wild-goose chase!--Always your
lovingest sister, Betty.
_From General Digby to Jack Trevor_.
My dear Boy,--If you were my own son (which I wish you were!) I could
not have felt happier and prouder than I did on the receipt of your
letter this morning. To hear that you have decided to read for the
ministry, and that you attribute the origin of this choice to some
chance words of mine uttered years ago--that is indeed an unexpected
joy! This tongue of mine has uttered so many foolish sayings in its
time, and got me into so much trouble, that I am thankful beyond
expression to know that in this instance it has done some good for a
change. Thank you, my boy, for giving me the satisfaction of knowing as
much. I know it is hard for you young fellows to speak out. You might
easily have kept it to yourself, and left me a poorer man.
No! Since you ask my opinion, I'm convinced that it would be a thousand
pities to drop any of your athletic interests. I'd rather advise you to
put more grist into them, and come to the front as much as possible;
short, of course, of interfering with your studies. When you have a
parish of your own, or assist another man in his parish, you will have a
big work to do among the boys and young men, and how do you think it
will affect _them_ to hear that you have pulled stroke in your boat, or
played for the 'Varsity in football or cricket? Will they think less of
you, or more? If I know masculine nature, it will give you an immediate
influence which scarcely anything else could command. They will know
you for a man, and a manly man into the bargain, a man who has like
interests with themselves, and is not merely a puppet stuck up in the
pulpit to babble platitudes, as so many fellows do nowadays--more shame
to them! Play with the young fellows on Saturday;--let them feel that
you understand and enter into their interests, and my name's not Terence
Digby if your serious words don't have a tenfold influence on Sunday.
We must have a good talk on this subject when you come home. It is one
on which I feel very strongly. Let me know at any time if you want help
as to books, or any other expenses. Your father has enough to do with
the rest of the family, and it is a pleasure to me to pretend now and
again that you belong to me.
All goes well at Brompton Square. Your mother wears well--a wonderful
woman! None of her daughters will ever equal her, though Betty is twice
the girl she used to be, and Mademoiselle Jill makes havoc among the
young fellows. My dear wife looks after me so carefully that my gout is
steadily on the decline, and I grow younger year by year. Get the right
woman for your wife, young fellow! I waited twenty years for mine, and
she's cheap at the price.--Your friend, Terence Digby.
_Christabel Rendell to her sister Nan Vanburgh_.
Dearest Mops,--I am in a state of abject collapse after rushing after
the beagles yesterday, tearing all over the countryside, and leaping
wildly over mountainous barriers, so I think I might as well spend my
time writing to you, as you have been hurling reproaches at me for my
silence. I couldn't possibly attempt letters while Betty was here, for
we only had a fortnight, and I didn't get through half what I wanted to
say. We enjoyed having her immensely, she's a perfect dear, and very
pretty when she takes enough trouble, which isn't by any means always
the case. I read her a severe lecture on the subject, and retrimmed her
blue hat. I'm sure you'll think it improved. Talking of hats--I can't
understand why I am not a lunatic, after all I've experienced with my
clothes this spring! Agatha and I went to a tailor's at Hertford and
ordered coats and skirts for morning wear. She wasn't in a hurry for
hers, but I was simply panting for mine to take to the Goodmans' the
next Wednesday, so it was arranged that he should rush on with mine, and
that I should go over for a fitting on Monday. My dear, on Monday I was
a wreck!--toothache in every joint, chattering with cold, and the rain
descended in floods. I ploughed to the station in a sort of dismal, it-
is-my-duty-and-I-must kind of stupor; sat in the train with Mrs Ellis,
who yelled at me the whole time about the Coal Club, and Mary Jane's
little Emma's mumps; staggered along the roads to the tailor's shop, and
sat shuddering in his nasty little room with my feet on a slippery
oilcloth as cold as ice.
After about twenty minutes (it seemed three hours and a half)--he came
in with a coat over his arm! _Agatha's coat_! I nearly swooned! ...
"Now you don't say so--really! Your sister's? And I made so sure it
was yours! Isn't that curious, now? I may say I have been in the
tailoring trade, man and boy, for a matter of twenty years, an' I never
knew such a thing to occur before! Of course it wouldn't be any use
saying I could make another by Wednesday, for I should only disappoint,
but if Miss Hagatha was to run over, such a thing as this hafternoon,
she could have 'er's 'ome in the place of yours." ... I got home
_somehow_, I don't know how, for my mind was a blank, fell into bed, and
lay prostrate until the next day, when hope revived once more. If the
worst came to the worst, I was sure of a new voile dress which Miss
Green was making, and the old coat and skirt would do very well for the
mornings. The voile dress promised to be charming, for she really makes
very well when she likes; so I felt restored to equanimity, until at
eleven o'clock, behold a small girl, to see Miss C Rendell--"Oh, if--
you--please--Miss Green--says--as--she's--two--yards--short--of--the--
material--and--could--you--make--it--convenient--to--get--it--to-day?"
My brain reeled! As soon as I had sufficiently recovered, I rushed
round to see her myself. "You _told_ me you only needed twelve yards,
and I got thirteen!" "Yes, madam, but you see, madam, these guagings
run into a deal of material. You wouldn't like them not to be full and
'andsome. Just another two yards!" There was nothing else for it, so I
promised to go up to town next morning (I couldn't possibly go that
day), and impressed upon the wretch to finish the bodice _first_,--as,
if necessary, we could do with less trimming on the skirt. My dear, the
worst is still to come! The shop was _sold out_ of the shade of voile,
and could not get it again, and when I went back to Miss Green, she had
finished the _skirt_, and had nothing left for sleeves! "Yes, I
remember you _did_ say do the bodice first, but I thought I'd be getting
on with the guaging. Guaging runs into a deal of time!" ... I just lay
back, and said to myself, "Can it be real--or is it only a terrible
nightmare?" We sat turning over hundreds of dirty old fashion plates,
to find out how to make sleeves out of nothing, and they are sights, and
I look an owl in them. There's only one comfort--if my brain has stood
such a strain, it will stand anything!
Lilias and Mr Ross are really very satisfactory, and considering that
she is thirty (thirty! Isn't it appalling!), he is not a bit too old.
It's nice to see her look happy and satisfied, and she has been as sweet
as sugar ever since, and as pleased as possible with furnishing her
little house, which will be quite poky and shabby compared with yours,
or Maud's, or even Elsie's sanatorium. Poor old Lil! I'm glad she's
going to have a good time, at last. I'm afraid she has felt very "out
of it" the last few years.
Old Mr Vanburgh is longing for your next visit, and has his study
simply plastered over with portraits of the boy. I go to sit with him
on wet afternoons, and listen meekly to praises of yourself, which I
know to be absolutely undeserved.
By the way--is Betty in love? Never a word could I get out of her, but
her indifference to the admiration she got down here--and she got a good
deal--was quite phenomenal, unless there is something behind! Methinks
at times I trace a melancholy in her eye. Adieu, my love; this epistle
ought to make up for past delinquencies.--Yours ever, Christabel.