'I RAN AWAY, THEN!'
'Now, Jill,' I demanded, at last, taking her by the shoulders, 'I insist
on knowing what this means.' And when I spoke in that tone Jill always
obeyed me at once.
So she shook her untidy mane, and looked at me with eyes that were
brimful of fun and naughtiness.
'Very well, Ursie dear, if you will know, you shall; but first sit down
in that cosy-looking chair, and I will put my elbows in your lap, in the
dear old fashion, and then we can talk nicely. What a snug little room
this is! it looked just delicious when I came in, and Mrs. Barton made me
such a nice cup of tea, and then I went upstairs to look at your bedroom,
and there was a beautiful fire there, and Mrs. Barton says you always
have one: so you are not so poor and miserable, after all.'
'I am not at all poor, thank you; and I work so hard that I think I
deserve to be warm and comfortable. And when people live alone, a fire
is a nice, cheerful companion. But this is not answering my question,
Jocelyn.'
Now Jill hated me to call her Jocelyn, so she made a face at me, and
said, in rather a grumpy voice, 'Well, I ran away, then!'
'Ran away from Hyde Park Gate! Were you mad, Jill?'
'Oh dear, no,--not from Hyde Park Gate. Did you not get my letter? Oh,
I remember, I forgot to post it: it is in my blotting-case now. Then you
did not know that Sara has scarlatina?'
'No, indeed; but I am very sorry to hear it.'
'Oh, she is nearly well now; but no one knows how she caught it. There
was a terrible fuss when Dr. Armstrong pronounced it scarlatina. Mamma
made father take lodgings at Brighton at once, and Fräulein and I were
packed off there at a minute's notice. You can fancy what my life has
been for the last ten days, mewed up in a dull, ugly parlour with that
old cat.'
'My poor, dear Jill! But why did you not write to me, and I would have
come over at once?'
'So I did write, twice, and I do believe that horrid creature never
posted my letters,--I daresay they are in her pocket now,--and I could
not get out by myself until to-day. Now just think, Ursula, what sort of
a Christmas Day I was likely to have; and then you never came to me, and
I got desperate; so when Fräulein said she had one of her headaches,' and
here Jill made a comical grimace, 'I just made up my mind to take French
leave, and spend Christmas Day with you, and here I am; and scold me if
you dare, and I will hug you to death.' And, indeed, Jill's powerful
young arms were quite capable of fulfilling her threat.
'It is not for me to scold you,' I replied quietly; 'but I am afraid
you will get into trouble for this piece of recklessness. Think how
frightened poor Fräulein will be when she misses you.'
'Poor Fräulein, indeed! a deceitful creature like that. Why, Ursula, what
do you think? I just peeped into her room to be sure that she was safe
and it was all dark: she was not there at all. Oh, oh, my lady, I said to
myself, so that is your little game, is it? And, just to be certain, I
rang at the bell at 37 Brunswick Place, where the Schumackers live, and
asked the servant if Fräulein Hennig was still there, and when I heard
that she was having tea I nearly laughed in his face. What do you think
of that for an instructress of youth,--getting up the excuse of a
headache, and leaving me over those stupid lessons, while she paid a
visit on her own account? Does she not deserve a thorough good fright
as a punishment?'
'I think Aunt Philippa ought to be undeceived. I have never trusted
Fräulein Hennig since you told me she shut herself up in her bedroom to
read novels. Jill, my dear, you have acted very wrongly, and I am afraid
we shall all get into trouble over this school-girl trick of yours. I
must think what is best to be done under the circumstances.'
'You may think as much as you like,' returned Jill obstinately, 'but I
have come to spend my Christmas Day with you, and nothing will induce me
to go back to Fräulein: I shall murder her if I do. Now, Ursie darling,'
in a coaxing voice, 'do be nice, and make much of me. You can't think how
delicious it is to see your face again; it is such a dear face, and I
like it ever so much better than Sara's and Lesbia's.'
I was unable to reply to this flattering speech, for Jill suddenly put up
her hand--I noticed it was a little inky--and said, 'Hark, there is some
one coming up to the door?' and for the moment we both believed that it
was Fräulein; but, to Jill's immense relief, it was only Mr. Tudor, with
a great bough of holly in his hand.
'We have just finished at the church, and I have brought you this, Miss
Garston,' he began, and then he stopped, and said, 'Miss Jocelyn here!'
in a tone of extreme surprise, and Jill got up rather awkwardly and shook
hands with him. I could see that she felt shy and uncomfortable. I was
very pleased to see Mr. Tudor, for I knew he would help us in this
emergency. Jill was such a child, in spite of her womanly proportions,
that I was sure that her escapade would not seriously shock him; he was
young enough himself to have a fellow-feeling for her; and I was not
wrong. Mr. Tudor looked decidedly amused when I told him Jill had taken
French leave. He tried to look grave until I had finished, but the effort
was too much for him, and he burst out laughing.
Jill, who was looking very sulky, was so charmed by his merriment that
she began to laugh too, and we were all as cheerful as possible until I
called them to order, and asked Mr. Tudor if he would send off a telegram
at once.
'A telegram! Oh, Ursula!' And Jill's dimples disappeared like magic.
'My dear, Fräulein would not have a moment's sleep to-night if she did not
know you were safe. Do not be afraid, Jill: we will spend our Christmas
Day together, in spite of all the Fräuleins in the world.' And then I
wrote off the telegram, and a short note, and gave them to Mr. Tudor. The
telegram was necessarily brief:
'Jocelyn safe with me. Will not return until Thursday. Write to explain.'
The note was more explanatory.
I apologised profusely to Fräulein for her pupil's naughtiness, but
begged her to say nothing to her mother, as I would communicate myself
with Aunt Philippa and let her know what had happened. Under the
circumstances I thought it better to keep Jocelyn with me over Christmas
Day, until I heard from Aunt Philippa. But she might depend on my
bringing her back myself.
'It is far too polite,' growled Jill, who had been reading the letter
over my shoulder. 'How can you cringe so to that creature?'
'I consider it a masterpiece of diplomacy,' observed Mr. Tudor, as I
handed it for his inspection. 'Civil words pay best in the long-run; and
you know it was very naughty to run away, Miss Jocelyn.'
'It was nothing of the kind,' returned Jill rebelliously. 'And I would do
it again to-morrow. I am more than sixteen; I am not a child now, and I
have a right to come and see Ursula if I like.' And Jill threw back her
head, and the colour came into her face, and she looked so handsome that
I was not surprised to see Mr. Tudor regard her attentively. I never saw
a face so capable of varying expression as Jill's.
Jill declared she was glad when Mr. Tudor was gone. But I think she liked
him very well on the whole; and, indeed, no one could dislike such a
bright, kind-hearted fellow. As soon as he had left the house I had to
call a council. It was quite certain my bed would not hold Jill; so, at
Mrs. Barton's suggestion, some spare mattresses were dragged in my room
and a bed made up on the floor. Jill voted this delicious; nothing could
have pleased her more, and she was so talkative and excited that I had
the greatest trouble in coaxing her to be quiet and let me go to sleep:
in fact, I had to feign sleep to make her hold her tongue.
But I was much too restless to sleep, and once when I crept out of bed to
replenish the fire I stood still for a moment to look at Jill.
She was sleeping as placidly as an infant in its cradle, her short black
locks pushed back from her face, and one arm stretched on the coverlet.
I was surprised to see how fine Jill's face really was. The ugly
duckling, as Uncle Brian called her, was fast changing into a swan. At
present she was too big and undeveloped for grace; her awkward manners
and angularities made people think her rough and uncouth. 'I expect she
will eclipse Sara's commonplace prettiness some day; but, poor child,
no one understands her,' I sighed, and as I tucked her up more warmly,
with a kiss, Jill's sleepy arms found their way to my neck and held me
there. 'Is not it delicious, Ursie dear?' she murmured drowsily.
I was glad to see that Miss Hamilton was at the early service. She looked
pale and delicate, but there was a brighter look upon her face when she
nodded to me in the porch. Her brother was putting her into a fly, and
Miss Darrell and Lady Betty followed.
I was rather surprised to see him close the door after them and step back
into the porch. And the next moment he joined us.
'Well, Miss Garston,' holding out his hand, with a friendly smile, 'you
see Gladys contrived to have her way. A happy Christmas to you! But I see
you are not alone,' looking rather inquisitively at Jill, who looked very
big and shy as usual.
'I think you have heard of my cousin Jocelyn?' I returned, without
entering into any further particulars. I should have been sorry for
Jill's escapade to reach Mr. Hamilton's ears. But he shook hands with
her at once, and said, very pleasantly, that he had heard of her from
Mr. Cunliffe. And then, after a few more words, we parted.
Mr. Hamilton was unusually genial this morning. There was nothing in his
manner to recall our stormy interview on the previous evening. Perhaps he
wished to efface the recollection from my memory, for there was something
significant in his smile, as though we perfectly understood each other.
I had lain awake for a long time thinking over Mrs. Maberley's talk and
that uncomfortable walk from Maplehurst. Mr. Hamilton's voice and words
haunted me; the suppressed irritation and pain that almost mastered him,
and how he had flung away from me in the darkness.
I was glad to remember that I had called him back and spoken a
conciliatory word. No doubt he had been to blame. I could imagine him
hard and bitter to a fault. But he had suffered; there were lines upon
his face that had been traced by no common experience. No, it was not for
me to judge him. As he said, what could I know of a man's nature? And I
was still more glad when I saw Mr. Hamilton in the church porch, and knew
that the day's harmony was not disturbed, and that there was peace
between us. His bright, satisfied smile made me feel more cheerful.
'What a strange-looking man!' observed Jill, in rather a grumbling voice,
as we walked up the hill. 'Is that Mr. Hamilton? I thought he was young;
but he is quite old, Ursula.'
'No, dear, not more than three-or four-and-thirty, Uncle Max says.'
'Well, I call that old,' returned Jill, with the obstinacy of sixteen.
'He is an old bachelor, too, for of course nobody wants to marry him; he
is too ugly.'
'Oh, Jill, how absurd you are! Mr. Hamilton is not ugly at all. You will
soon get used to his face. It is only rather peculiar.' And I quite meant
what I said, for I had got used to it myself.
'Humph!' observed Jill significantly. But she did not explain the meaning
of her satirical smile, and I proceeded to call her attention to the
hoar-frost that lay on the cottage roof, and the beauty of the clear
winter sky. 'It is a glorious Christmas morning,' I finished.
We had a very merry breakfast, for Jill was almost wild with spirits, and
then we went to church again. Gladys was in her usual place, and looked
round at me with a smile as I entered. When the service was over, I went
to the Marshalls', accompanied by Jill, who announced her intention of
not letting me out of her sight, for I had to preside over the children's
Christmas dinner, and to look after my patient. We visited Robin next,
and then went on to the Lockes', and Jill sat open-eyed and breathless
in a corner of the room as I sang carols to Phoebe in the twilight.
She rose reluctantly when I put my hand on her shoulder and told her
that we must hurry back to the cottage to make ourselves smart for the
evening. Jill seldom troubled her head about such sublunary affairs as
dress.
'I shall be obliged to wear my old tweed,' she said contentedly. 'I have
only to smooth my hair, and then I shall be ready.' And she grumbled not
a little when I insisted on arranging a beautiful spray of holly as a
breast-knot, and twisting some very handsome coral beads that Charlie had
given me round her neck. Jill always looked better for a touch of warm
colour: the dark-red berries just suited her brown skin. 'You will do
better now,' I said, pushing her away gently, 'so you need not pout and
hunch your shoulders. Have I not told you that it is your duty to make
the best of yourself?--we cannot be all handsome, but we need not offend
our neighbours' eyes.' But, as usual, Jill turned a deaf ear to my
philosophy.
The study looked very cosy when we entered it, and Uncle Max gave us a
warm welcome. To be sure, he shook his head at Jill, and told her that he
was afraid she was a naughty girl, but both he and Mr. Tudor prudently
refrained from teasing her on the subject of her escapade. On the
contrary, they treated her with profound respect, as though she were
a grown-up, sensible young lady, and this answered with Jill. She grew
bright and animated, forgot her shyness, and talked in her quaint racy
manner. I could see that Mr. Tudor was much taken with her. She was so
different from the stereotyped young lady; her cleverness and originality
amused him; and I am sure Uncle Max was equally surprised and pleased.
I could see Max was making strenuous efforts to be cheerful, but every
now and then he relapsed into gravity. After dinner I drew him aside a
moment to speak to him about Jill: to my relief, he promised to be the
bearer of a letter to Aunt Philippa.
'I want to go up to town for a day or two,' he said, 'and I may as well
do this business for you. How happy the child looks, Ursula! I wish you
could keep her a little longer. She is very much improved. I had no idea
that there was so much in her; she will be far more attractive than Sara
when she has developed a moderate amount of vanity.' And I fully endorsed
this opinion.
We went home early, for I could see Max was very tired, but both he and
Mr. Tudor insisted on escorting us. It was a beautiful starlight night,
clear and frosty: our footsteps rang crisply on the ground: not a breath
of wind stirred the skeleton branches that stretched above our heads: a
solemn peacefulness seemed to close us round. Jill's mirthful laugh quite
startled the echoes. She and Mr. Tudor were following very slowly. Once
or twice we stood still and waited for them, but Mr. Tudor was in the
middle of some amusing story, and so they took no notice of us.
I told Max about my visit to Mrs. Maberley, and of the conversation
that had taken place between us. I thought he started a little when
I mentioned Eric Hamilton's name.
'What a pity!' he said quietly. 'I had hoped she would have told you
herself. I was waiting for her to do so.'
'But, Max, surely you might have told me?'
'Who?--I? I should not have presumed. You must remember that I was in
Hamilton's confidence, and,' after a moment's hesitation, 'in hers too.
Ursula,' with a sudden passionate inflexion in his voice, 'you have no
idea how she loved that poor boy, and how she suffered: it nearly killed
her. Now you know why I say that she is lonely and wants a friend.' 'But
she has you, Max,' I exclaimed involuntarily, for I knew what he must
have been to them in their trouble; Max could be as tender as a woman;
but he started aside as though I had struck him; and his voice was quite
changed as he answered me.
'You mistake, Ursula. I was only her clergyman: if she confided in me it
was because she could not do otherwise; she is naturally reserved. She
would find it easier to be open with you.'
'I do not think so, Max. I--But what does it matter what I think? There
is one question I want to ask: do you think Mr. Hamilton was at all to
blame?'
'I am Hamilton's friend,' he returned, in a tone that made me regret that
I had asked the question, and then he stood still and waited for the
others to join us. Indeed, he did not speak again, except to wish us
good-night.
'It is the loveliest Christmas Day I have ever spent,' cried Jill,
flinging herself on me, and she was no light weight. 'I do like Mr. Tudor
so; he is nicer than any one I know, more like a nice funny boy than a
man, only he tells me he can be grave sometimes. What was the matter with
Mr. Cunliffe?--he looks tired and worried and not inclined to laugh.' And
so Jill chattered on without waiting for my answers, talking in the very
fulness of her young heart, until I pretended again to be asleep, and
then she consented to be quiet.
I saw Max for a few minutes the next day when he came to fetch my letter.
He looked more like himself, only there was still a tired expression
about his eyes; but he talked very cheerfully of what he should do during
the few days he intended to remain in town.
I made him promise to be very diplomatic with Aunt Philippa, and he most
certainly kept his word, for the next morning I received a letter that
surprised us both, and that drove Jill nearly frantic with joy.
Aunt Philippa's letter was very long and rambling. She began by
expressing herself as deeply shocked and grieved at Jocelyn's behaviour,
which was both dishonourable and unlady-like, and had given her father
great pain. 'Dear old dad! I don't believe it,' observed Jill, pursing
her lips at this.
Aunt Philippa regretted that she could no longer trust her young
daughter,--she was sure Sara would never have behaved so at her age,--and
she felt much wounded by Jocelyn's defiant action. At the same time, she
was equally deceived in Fräulein Hennig, she was certainly more to blame
than Jocelyn. Mr. Cunliffe had told her things that greatly surprised
her. Uncle Brian was very angry, and insisted that she should be
dismissed. Under these distressing circumstances, and as it would not be
safe for Jocelyn to come back to Hyde Park Gate until the rooms had been
properly disinfected, she must beg me as a favour to herself and Uncle
Brian to keep Jocelyn with me until they went to Hastings. Mr. Cunliffe
knew of a finishing governess, a Miss Gillespie, who was most highly
recommended as a well-principled and thoroughly cultured person, only she
would not be at liberty for three or four weeks. As I reached this point
of Aunt Philippa's letter, I was obliged to lay it down to prevent myself
from being strangled.
'Well, Jill, there is no need to hug me to death: it is Uncle Max that
you have to thank, and not me.'
'Yes, but you see it would never do to hug him, for he is not a bit my
uncle, so I am doing it by deputy,' observed Jill recklessly. 'Oh,
Ursula, what a darling you are! and what a dear fellow he is! To think
of my staying here three or four weeks! You will let me help you nurse
people, won't you?' very coaxingly.
'We will see about that presently; but, Jill, you have never opened your
mother's letter. Now, as it is perfectly impossible that you can sleep on
the floor for weeks, and as I do not intend to keep such a chatterbox in
my room, I am going to see what Mrs. Barton advises.' And leaving Jill to
digest Aunt Philippa's scolding as well as she could, I went in search of
the little widow.
I found, to my relief, that there was another room in the cottage, though
it could not boast of much furniture beyond a bed and wash-stand: so,
after a little consideration, I started off to the vicarage to hold a
consultation with Mrs. Drabble.
The upshot of our talk was so satisfactory, and Mrs. Barton and Nathaniel
worked so well in my service, that when bedtime came Jill found herself
the possessor of quite a snug room. There were curtains up at the window,
and strips of carpet on the floor. A dressing-table had been improvised
out of a deal packing-case, and covered with clean dimity. Jill's
travelling-box stood in one corner, and on the wall there was a row of
neat pegs for Jill's dresses. Jill exclaimed at the clean trim look of
the room, but I am sure she regretted her bed on the floor. She came down
presently in her scarlet dressing-gown to give me a final hug and
reiterate her petition for work.
'Mamma has talked a lot of rubbish about my keeping up my studies and
practising two hours a day, and she means to disinfect my books and send
them down, but I have made up my mind that I will not open one. I am
going to enjoy myself, and nurse sick people, and do real work, instead
of grinding away at that stupid German.' And Jill set her little white
teeth, and looked determined, so I thought it best not to contradict
her.
'I am so glad Uncle Max thought of Miss Gillespie, dear.'
'Who is she? I hate her already. I expect she is only an Anglicised
Fräulein,' observed Jill, with a vixenish look.
'You are quite wrong. Miss Gillespie is Scotch, and she is very nice and
good, and pretty too, for I have often heard Uncle Max talk of her. Her
father was Max's great friend, and at his death the daughters were
obliged to go out in the world. Miss Gillespie is the eldest. No, she is
not very young,--nearly forty, I believe,--but she is so nice-looking;
she was engaged to a clergyman, but he died, and they had been engaged
so many years, and so now she will not marry. She is very cheerful,
however, and all her pupils love her, and I am sure you will be happy
with her, Jill.'
Jill would not quite allow this, but the next day she recurred to the
subject, and asked me a good many questions about Miss Gillespie, and
when I told her that it was settled that Miss Gillespie should join them
at Hastings she really looked quite pleased; but nothing would induce her
to open the case of books Aunt Philippa had sent down, and when I told
Uncle Max he only laughed.
'Let her be as idle as she likes. She is over-educated now, and knows far
more than most girls of her age. Take her about with you, and make her
useful.' And I followed this advice implicitly, but for a different
reason,--there was no keeping Mr. Tudor out of the house; so when I was
engaged, and Jill could not be with me, I took advantage of a general
invitation that Miss Hamilton had given me, and sent her up to Gladwyn.
They were all very kind to her, and she seemed to amuse Miss Darrell, but
after a time Mr. Tudor began going there too, and then indeed I should
have been at my wits' end, only Mrs. Maberley came to my rescue. She took
a fancy to Jill, and Jill reciprocated it, and presently she and Lady
Betty began to spend most of their idle hours at Maplehurst.