AN AFTERNOON OF STORM.
IT was with deep concern that Mrs. Wallis I noted that Sir Jasper
appeared to have taken a dislike to her younger daughter; and as she
had not the faintest idea that he believed his suspicion that Joy
had persistently lied to him had been confirmed, she considered
his conduct both unjust and ungenerous. He seldom took any notice
of Joy nowadays, and when he did, it was generally to cast some
sarcastic remark at her; consequently she kept out of his sight
as much as possible, whilst Celia, as soon as she was able to get
about again, saw more of him than ever. This state of affairs was not
likely to heal the breach between the sisters, and it daily widened,
so that when Eric arrived at the Moat House for the summer holidays
he was not long in discovering that his favourite sister was in
disgrace with Sir Jasper, and that she was far from being at her ease
with Celia.
"Why is it, mother?" he questioned Mrs. Wallis. "What has poor Joy
done?"
Mrs. Wallis briefly explained that her uncle had suspected Joy
of reading a sensational novel, and had not accepted her denial;
but she knew of no reason why the girls should not be on their old
confidential terms, she declared, and had not noticed there was
anything wrong between them.
Eric considered the matter in silence for a few minutes, then
he said:
"Of course Joy is very fond of reading—she's a regular little
bookworm; but I'm quite sure she wouldn't tell a story. Uncle Jasper
doesn't know her as we do, mother."
Later, the boy spoke to Joy upon the subject, but she firmly refused
to discuss it with him; and appeared so distressed when he would have
persisted in "trying to get the root of the matter," as he expressed
it, that his heart was quite touched.
"Never you mind, Joy," he told her sympathetically. "Uncle Jasper
will find out the truth sooner or later."
"It's dreadful he should think so badly of me," sighed Joy; "he used
to be so nice me when we first came—though I don't think he ever
liked me so well as Celia—and now he's quite different."
"Celia seems to be prime favourite with him," Eric remarked
reflectively; "she knows which side her bread is buttered,
does Celia."
This was not an elegant speech, but rightly expressed the opinion
Eric had formed of his elder sister. For the first few days after his
arrival at the Moat House he had watched her in rather a puzzled
fashion, surprised at her attentions to Sir Jasper; then a light
had seemed to dawn across his mind, and her conduct had apparently
caused him much amusement.
Sir Jasper had welcomed Eric very warmly; but the blunt, outspoken
school boy had not made the immediate favourable impression upon him
that Celia with her pretty, smiling face and winning ways had done;
and Eric, on his part, had not much taken to the little old man
with his wrinkled face and sharp inquisitive eyes.
It was August now, and the weather was so intensely hot that the
geraniums drooped in the flower beds around the terrace at the Moat
House, and the earth cracked for lack of moisture. One sultry
afternoon found Eric and his sisters in the sitting-room in the east
wing, "enjoying a lazy time, doing nothing," as Joy said, for the air
was so oppressive that it made everyone feel languid, and disinclined
for exertion of any kind.
"I believe we shall have a thunderstorm," Celia remarked, uneasily.
She was sitting on the window-seat, and as she spoke her eyes
wandered anxiously across the wide expanse of woods and meadow lands
to the sweep of hills beyond, noting the heavy banks of gathering
clouds.
"How still it is! A sort of hush is over everything. Oh, surely we
must be going to have a storm!"
"I rather hope we may," Joy replied, "for perhaps it will be a little
cooler afterwards. Eric and I spoke of walking to Crumleigh this
afternoon; but I don't think it would be wise to venture even such
a short distance from home as that, now the weather looks so
threatening."
"Where's mother?" asked Eric.
"Gone to Home Vale," Celia answered. "I expect she'll have tea
with Miss Pring and Miss Mary."
"And we shall have Uncle Jasper to ourselves at tea-time!" Eric
exclaimed, making a grimace. "I never know what to say to him.
He takes no interest in cricket or any game. Celia, what do you talk
to him about?"
"Oh, I don't know," Celia returned with a smile; "I generally let him
choose the subjects."
"Does he ever mention his son?"
"Very seldom."
"Why doesn't he go for a drive, sometimes? Isn't it strange he has no
friend?"
"He is very friendly with Mr. Tillotson," Joy interposed, "and he
likes Miss Pring; but I heard him tell mother that he had no
inclination to make new friends, and that he had outlived all
his old ones."
"Tillotson? Oh, he's the lawyer who has the dressy daughter you were
speaking about—Celia's great friend!" Eric's eyes sparkled
mischievously as they rested on his elder sister's pretty face.
"Let me see, what is it she is called?"
"Lulu," Joy answered. "I don't think she's a bad sort of girl,
but she's certainly very fond of dress and jewellery; she has a lot
of nice things, and she wanted to give Celia a turquoise brooch,
so you see she is really good-natured. Of course Celia wouldn't
accept it."
"Of course not," said Celia. "It was a nice enough brooch in its way,
but I daresay I may have a better one some day," she continued,
"for Uncle Jasper says when I am grown up, he will give me—"
She paused abruptly as she met her brother's eager, inquiring glance,
and looked a trifle confused.
"Go on. What is Uncle Jasper going to give you when you are
grown up?" Eric questioned. "A silver new nothing, perhaps."
Celia could never stand teasing, and her colour rose, whilst her eyes
gleamed angrily. "Uncle Jasper has most lovely jewels locked away
in the safe in the library," she declared with a ring of triumph
in her tone. "He showed them to me one day. They belonged to his
wife. There is a pearl necklace, and diamonds—"
"Diamonds!" Eric interrupted. "Joy, no wonder Celia is inclined
to disparage her friend's humble turquoise brooch if she is looking
forward to wearing diamonds. Did Uncle Jasper say he was going
to give them to you, Celia? Joy, you and I will have to take back
seats when our sister is decked out in her diamonds!"
Joy could not help laughing, but Celia exclaimed wrathfully:
"How silly you are! I wish I had not mentioned the jewels to you!"
"Do you think Uncle Jasper would let me have a peep at his
treasures?" Eric questioned.
"You had better ask him," Celia replied. She leaned her flushed face
out of the window. "Oh, how hot it is!" she exclaimed; "and see how
dark the sky is growing! What inky clouds! Oh, I fear the storm
is coming! Hark, surely that is thunder?"
It was, in the distance, but it was drawing nearer and nearer every
minute. At length the rain began to fall in slow, heavy drops.
"Mother will be sure to remain at Home Vale," Joy said. "What is the
time, Eric?" The boy drew out his watch—a treasured possession,
for it had been his father's—and looked at it.
"Nearly five o'clock," he replied. "Why, I declare it's getting dark!
There, wasn't that a brilliant flash of lightning! Now for the
thunder."
It came, a tremendous clap, just as the door opened and Sir Jasper
entered. The children were surprised to see him, for he had never
visited them in the east wing before. Eric sprang up from the arm
chair in which he had been reclining much at his ease, and offered
it to the old man, who sank into it rather breathlessly.
"We are going to have a terrible storm," Sir Jasper said; "indeed,
it has come," he continued as another flash of lightning almost
blinded them for a moment, and the thunder rolled overhead. "Your
mother is at Home Vale, and will doubtless remain till the weather
clears. You are not afraid of a storm?" he questioned.
They all assured him they were not; but Celia, whose colour
had paled, left the window for a seat further back in the room.
The rain was descending in torrents now from the leaden sky;
the lightning was almost incessant; and the thunder sounded like the
roar of artillery. It was indeed a fearful storm, the like of which
the children had never witnessed before. Joy sat quietly on the sofa,
her eyes fixed on Sir Jasper's withered visage; and presently Celia
crept to her side and grasped her hand tightly.
"Joy, isn't it awful?" she whispered, hoarsely.
"Are you very frightened?" Joy asked. "Don't cry, Celia. Why, you're
shaking like a leaf!"
"Oh, Joy, we shall be killed! I believe the walls of the house
will fall in, and crush us to death! Oh," her voice rising almost
to a shriek as the thunder crashed overhead, "this is terrible!"
"Nonsense, child," said Sir Jasper, soothingly; "no harm will come
to you."
But for once Celia took no heed of his words. She clung closely
to Joy, sobbing and shivering with fright, whilst Joy whispered
to her that there was nothing to fear.
"Don't be such a coward, Celia!" Eric said, sharply. "I'm ashamed
of you. Why should the storm affect you more than any one else?
Stop that whimpering, do."
"Oh, don't be hard on her, Eric," Joy remonstrated; "she can't help
being frightened."
Sir Jasper watched the two girls in silence. He noticed how the elder
clung to the younger as though for protection, and wondered,
for Celia had always appeared to him so self-reliant till now.
By-and-by the fury of the storm abated, the thunder became more and
more distant, and the lightning flashes less forked and vivid. Then
Celia raised her face from her sister shoulder, where she had hidden
it, and looked around rather nervously, meeting an encouraging smile
from Sir Jasper.
"Cheer up, my dear," he said, "the worst of the storm is over, so I
suggest we all adjourn to the dining-room to tea."
Celia, much subdued in spirits, went to her bedroom, followed by Joy,
to smooth her ruffled hair and bathe her tear-stained face, whilst
Sir Jasper requested Eric to give him his arm to lean upon as he went
downstairs.
"We do not often get such a storm as the one we have had this
afternoon in Devonshire," Sir Jasper remarked a few minutes later,
when they were all seated at the tea-table; "it came on so suddenly
too, though the air has been heavy with thunder all day. I think
I never saw more vivid lightning. I do not wonder poor Celia
was alarmed."
"It was silly of her to make such a fuss, though!" Eric exclaimed,
scornfully.
"I couldn't help it," Celia murmured, hanging her head.
"You didn't try not to help it," Eric retorted. "You always were
a little coward."
"Eric, that is not the way to speak to your sister," Sir Jasper told
the boy, reprovingly. "Were not you frightened?" he inquired, turning
to Joy.
She started in surprise, and blushed crimson, for he had not
addressed her for days previously, and for a minute she was too
confused to reply.
"I think I was a little frightened," she confessed at length.
"The lightning was so blinding, I felt I must scream once, then I
remembered—"
She paused abruptly, overawed by the keen scrutiny with which
Sir Jasper was observing her, and trembled far more than she had done
when the storm was at its height.
"What did you remember?" he asked, puzzled by her manner.
"That God was with us," she answered in a low tone.
Sir Jasper sat in silence for a few seconds, then a sarcastic smile
crossed his face, and he said meaningly:
"It is a pity you do not always remember that. If you did, perhaps
you would learn to be less deceptive, and more truthful."
A dead silence followed this speech. Celia looked at Joy quickly,
her blue eyes full of alarm; but Joy uttered no word, only sat
perfectly still with her cheeks, which had been so flushed a minute
before, as white as the table cloth. It was Eric who at length burst
into an indignant protest.
"What a shame of you to speak to her like that, Uncle Jasper!"
he cried. "If you think Joy is not truthful you are very
much mistaken."
"Eric, that is not the way to address me," Sir Jasper told the boy,
severely. "And you do not know what you are talking about. Joy is
perfectly well aware to what I refer."
"And I know to what you refer!" Eric declared. "Mother told me all
about it. Joy knew nothing about that nasty novel, I'm certain
she didn't. She never told you a story, Uncle Jasper. She's as true
as steel. Speak up, Joy, and tell Uncle Jasper he's mistaken."
Joy raised her eyes, and turned them slowly from her brother
to Sir Jasper. "What use is it my telling Uncle Jasper that?"
she asked, her voice full of pain; "he would only consider I was
saying what was untrue. I told him I had never seen that novel
before, but he did not believe me—he would not believe me now."
She stood up, and pushed her chair back from the table, and without
another word walked out of the room. Celia uttered a gasping cry,
and bursting into tears, covered her face with her hands. Sir Jasper
essayed to comfort her; but she only wept the more, whilst Eric
looked at her in utter bewilderment.
"The storm has upset her," Sir Jasper said, as he glanced from Celia
to her brother; "she is a very sensitive child—and, I think she
troubles about her sister too."
"Why did you speak to her so harshly?" wailed Celia.
"There, there," said the old man, soothingly, "I promise I will not
do so again but it aggravated me to hear her talk so—so piously.
I dislike anything approaching hypocrisy."
"Joy is not a hypocrite," Eric declared, bluntly. "You are mistaken
in her character altogether. She's heaps better and truer in every
respect than either Celia or me, isn't she Celia? Why can't you speak
up for Joy? Why don't you go and see what become of her, instead
of whimpering like that?" he added, in exasperated tones.
Celia rose from her chair as her brother spoke, and walked slowly out
of the room her eyes brimming over with tears, her bosom heaving
with sobs. Eric regarded Sir Jasper gloomily. The old man looked
perturbed and was regretting the words which had been the cause
of the late stormy scene. He trembled with agitation as, leaning
heavily on his stick, he crossed the room to the window, where he
stood gazing out upon the newly-washed face of the landscape,
conscious that Eric's eyes were watching his movements. He could not
but admire the boy for taking his sister's part; but was annoyed
at the defiant tone in which he had addressed him. Had not Eric said
it was a shame that he should have spoken to Joy as he had done?
He thought the boy owed him an apology; but apparently no idea
of offering him one crossed Eric's mind, for he lingered in the room
but a short while longer; then went into the hall, and putting on his
cap, started to meet his mother, who by that time, he considered,
would most likely be on her way home.