A RECONCILIATION.
"SO to-morrow your sister returns," remarked Miss Pring. She was
nipping the dead roses from around the porch at Home Vale whilst she
talked to Joy Wallis, who stood by watching her. "She has had a
pleasant visit at T— I've no doubt; but you'll be glad to have her
home again. What fast friends she and Lulu Tillotson have become!
They looked like sisters on the flower show day both dressed
in white. By the way, where did Celia get her grand brooch?"
"What grand brooch do you mean?" Joy inquired. "She has a small gold
one like mine, but you can't mean that—"
"No, indeed! The one to which I refer is in the shape of a butterfly,
studded with diamonds—imitation diamonds, of course, but very showy
they looked, I assure you."
"Lulu must have either given or lent it to her; or, perhaps, she
bought it for herself. Uncle Jasper gave her a sovereign before she
went away. I know Celia wanted a new brooch very much."
"She has it, then."
"Is it pretty?" Joy asked, naturally feeling interested.
"Why, yes, pretty in its way," Miss Pring replied. "One could not
help noticing that it glittered so. All this cheap jewellery one sees
is very effective, but I do not care see it worn, somehow. I am
old-fashioned in my ideas, and dislike shams."
"That's what mother says. She likes things to be real."
"There is so much pretence nowadays," Miss Pring went on; "people are
so fond of show. It's a very great pity. Look at Lulu Tillotson,
for instance."
"But you don't dislike her, Miss Pring, do you?"
"No, certainly not. Her father has knowingly done his best to spoil
her; has brought her up to please herself, and that is enough to ruin
anyone's character, but it hasn't ruined Lulu's, which goes to show
how much good there is beneath the veneer of selfishness and vanity
in her of which I so strongly disapprove. I often think if her mother
had lived, she would have been a very different sort of girl."
"Did you know Mrs. Tillotson?" Joy inquired.
"Yes. She was a very sweet woman, and one of the happiest creatures
I ever met; she always seemed to me to be in the sunshine of God's
presence—in the warmth of His love. Ah, it was a terrible blow to her
husband when she died! God's ways are inscrutable in our eyes."
Miss Pring's busy hands were quiet for a few minutes, and a
wonderfully gentle expression crossed her plain, dark face as she
thought of Lulu's young mother. "I knew the Tillotsons before I came
to Home Vale, when I was richer than I am now," she proceeded,
"but when loss of fortune came my way, I found them the same.
Mr. Tillotson was ever a true friend to me, and I've always taken
an interest in Lulu for her mother's sake. Sometimes she reminds me
of her mother, when she forgets her fine clothes, and allows herself
to be girlish and natural. Poor Lulu! I've tried to laugh her out of
her foolish ways; but I fear I've done little good. Oh, look at Wag,
my dear! He's digging a hole in the middle of that flower bed."
Joy shouted at the puppy, and then rushed after him as he careered
around the garden. Finally she caught him, and having ascertained
he had done no real harm, returned to Miss Pring, who was laughing
heartily. "I don't think he has done much mischief," Joy said,
apologetically, "so please forgive him, and don't say I mayn't bring
him here again, for he makes such a to-do if I leave him at home.
He's a poor, lonely, little puppy with only me to play with when
Eric's away. Eric's so fond of him."
"Where is your brother to-night?" Miss Pring inquired.
"Gone to the cricket field. He and Putty get on capitally with the
other boys now. Eric wanted me to go with him this evening, but I
thought I'd rather come here, and have a talk with you. I hope
I don't come too often?"
"No," laughed Miss Pring; "when you come too often, I will give you
a hint to stay away. Ah, here comes Mary, laden with spoil from the
hedges!"
Miss Mary Pring, who had been for a stroll, joined them in the porch
a minute later. Governess and pupil met with much friendliness. The
former, whose hands were laden with ferns, explained where she had
been, patted Wag, and then inquired for Celia.
"She is coming home to-morrow," Joy returned, "and mother and I
are going to drive in to T— in the evening to fetch her."
"I've been telling Joy about her sister's grand brooch," Miss Pring
remarked; "she has never seen it, so evidently it is a new possession
of Celia's."
"It is very handsome," Miss Mary said; "indeed, rather too handsome
for a young girl to wear. It is in the shape of a butterfly, set with
diamonds. Lulu Tillotson is fond of jewellery, but I never saw her
with such a beautiful ornament as that diamond brooch of Celia's!"
"Why, surely you don't imagine the stones were real diamonds, Mary?"
Miss Pring exclaimed, glancing at her niece in surprise.
"They looked real," Miss Mary answered, dubiously; "if they were not,
they were very good imitations. Are you really going, Joy? Then I
will walk part way home with you."
This she accordingly did. After she had parted with her governess,
Joy strolled along very slowly, her mind occupied by thoughts
of Celia's new brooch. She supposed her sister must have purchased it
for herself with the sovereign Sir Jasper had given her, and wondered
what her mother would say when she saw it, for she knew Mrs. Wallis
greatly disliked flashy jewellery for young people, and she had been
anything but pleased when Celia had bought a gaudy brooch before;
she determined to say nothing about it, however, for it might
transpire that Lulu had lent the ornament for the occasion of the
flower show. On reaching the Moat House, Joy went round to the
stables with Wag, then returned to the front of the house and entered
the hall, where she encountered the housekeeper.
"Sir Jasper has been inquiring for you, Miss Joy," Mrs. Mallock
informed her; "he's in the library, my dear."
Accordingly, Joy went at once to the library, where, she found
Sir Jasper alone. The old man's face wore a moody expression, and the
little girl rightly guessed he had been thinking of his dead son.
"Did you want me, Uncle Jasper?" she asked, gently.
"You might play to me," he replied, not over graciously.
"Oh, yes, of course I will!"
Joy took her place at the piano immediately, and commenced to play
"The Last Rose of Summer," whilst Sir Jasper leaned back in his easy
chair with closed eyes, and listened. From "The Last Rose of Summer"
Joy's fingers wandered presently into another tune; she was
improvising as she went on, forgetful how the time was passing,
as was her way when making music. Suddenly she stopped, awakened from
the reverie into which she had fallen, by the sound of a loud snore.
Glancing quickly around she saw Sir Jasper had fallen asleep. How old
and worn he looked! Joy's heart warmed toward him with tenderest
sympathy and affection. She forgot his injustice to her, and
remembered only his great sorrow, his loneliness. Fearing he was in
the draught, she stepped behind his chair, and essayed to shut the
window noiselessly; but, softly though she moved, the sleeper
stirred, and, opening his eyes, sat upright in the chair.
"What are you doing?" he demanded sharply. "Joy, is that you?"
"Yes, Uncle Jasper," she answered, a trifle nervously, taken aback
by the asperity of his tone. "I'm afraid I have disturbed you. I'm so
sorry!"
"What were you doing to my safe?" he asked, suspiciously.
"To your safe!" she cried in amazement; "why, I wasn't touching it!
What do you mean, Uncle Jasper? I was only shutting the window
because I was afraid you would catch cold."
"Oh, it was the window I heard, was it? You weren't meddling with my
safe then?"
"No, most certainly not."
Joy flushed painfully, and glanced at the safe in the niche by the
fire-place; she noticed the key was in the lock.
"I don't like people to meddle with anything belonging to me,"
Sir Jasper proceeded; "go and lock the safe, and bring me the key."
Joy obeyed in silence, her heart throbbing with indignation. How
could Uncle Jasper imagine for a moment that she would interfere
with his belongings!
He gazed at her searchingly as he took the key from her hand, and met
the reproachful flash of her eyes.
"Don't look at me like that, child," he said, feeling rather ashamed
of his suspicion of her. "There, sit down where I can see you, and
let us talk. I am very gratified with the progress you are making
with your music, my dear; you bid fair to become a clever pianist.
Those little fingers of yours know how to draw music from that old
instrument of mine. Your talent shall be cultivated, I promise you
that."
Her face glowed with intense pleasure and gratitude now, as she
faltered her thanks; but her eyes were more eloquent than her lips,
and the old man was satisfied.
"I do think you are a grateful little girl," he said, approvingly,
"I like that trait of your character. You will have your sister back
to-morrow," he continued, abruptly leading the conversation into
another channel; "we have all missed Celia, but you most of all,
I expect. By-the-bye, where is Eric to-night?"
"Gone to the cricket field. I have been to see Miss Pring. I thought
mother was at home with you, Uncle Jasper?"
"No, she is out, I believe. Mrs. Mallock said she had gone to visit
a sick woman living in one of my cottages," Sir Jasper rejoined,
indifferently.
"Oh, yes," Joy cried. "No doubt she has gone to see poor Mrs. Long."
"My gamekeeper's wife?"
"Yes, I have been to see her several times myself."
"You!" he exclaimed, in considerable astonishment.
"Yes," Joy nodded. "It happened like this. I was passing the cottage
one day when I heard someone crying, and—I suppose it was an odd
thing to do—I went up and knocked at the door. No one came, so I
called out to know if anything was amiss, and then a voice told me
to open the door and come in. So I did go in, Uncle Jasper and there,
lying on a sofa in the kitchen, was poor Mrs. Long. She was so
lonely, and unhappy, and quite unable to stir. It was she I had heard
crying—not because there was anything wrong, only because it had come
over her what a useless, poor thing she was. She told me her husband
was very good to her, and waited on her hand and foot, but when he
was away she couldn't help being miserable sometimes. Poor soul!
I sat down and talked to her, and she was so glad of my company,
and said—and said—"
"Yes? What did she say?" Sir Jasper inquired, really interested now.
"That I was like a ray of sunshine on a winter's day; and then she
asked me my name, and I told her—Joy—and she said she had never heard
of anyone called that before, but she thought the name suited me, for
I looked so happy. I've been to see her several times since, and
mother goes very often. Poor Mrs. Long! It must be dreadful to be
paralyzed."
"Since when have you known the woman?" he questioned, curiously.
"Let me see—since about a fortnight after we came here."
"Does Celia visit her too?"
"Oh, no! Celia has never seen her. She says it makes her unhappy
to see sick people."
"Ah, the child has a tender heart!" he exclaimed.
"Mrs. Long dearly likes me to read to her," Joy proceeded. She was
talking naturally and unreservedly now. "Of course she can read
herself, but her eyes are weak, and she can't lift up her hands
to hold a book."
"And what do you read to her?" Sir Jasper asked; "novels, eh?"
"No," Joy replied, suddenly losing her ease again, as her thoughts
reverted to "Lady Isabella's Treachery." "I generally read the Bible,
she likes that best; she loves to hear about Christ's miracles, and
especially how He made the lame to walk. She says after I'm gone she
thinks of it all, and how she will be made well again when she meets
Jesus face to face. Oh, poor thing, I feel so sorry for her! It must
be terrible to be so helpless!"
"Her husband is good to her, you say?"
"Oh, yes, very good, Uncle Jasper!'
"Ah, so I should imagine. Long has ways proved himself a trustworthy
servant; I knew his wife was an invalid, but he never volunteered any
information concerning her."
"Perhaps he thought you would not be interested," Joy suggested.
Sir Jasper, upon reflection, thought that was very likely the case.
All his life he had been so wrapped up in his own concerns that he
had taken but little notice of those with whom he had been connected,
with the exception of his son and Mr. Tillotson.
The former's tragic death had had the effect of softening his heart
towards others, with the result that his thoughts had turned to the
niece he had known to be in poor circumstances, and he had sent for
her and her family with the idea of benefiting them ultimately. The
young people were unconsciously widening his sympathies, and giving
him interests outside himself. A year ago he would not have bestowed
a second thought upon the Crumleigh Cricket Club, nor would he have
evinced much sympathy for his gamekeeper's invalid wife.
His eyes rested thoughtfully on Joy's countenance, and he noticed,
with real gratification, how she had improved in appearance lately.
She looked well and bright, her cheeks, though not pink and white
like Celia's, had become round, and wore a healthy hue, whilst her
large grey eyes shone with happiness. He encouraged her to talk, and
drew from her an account of her life at A—. Often he had tried to
make her sister tell him of their old home, but in vain; it had been
a distasteful subject to Celia. He found himself listening to an
account of Joy's school friends, and to the doings of Jane the
maid-of-all work, and hearing of many little economies and privations
which Mrs. Wallis had been quite unable to prevent.
"What an interest you seem to take in everyone, Joy!" he exclaimed
at length. "Do you really care about all these people you've
mentioned?"
"Why, yes, of course I do, Uncle Jasper," Joy replied, looking
surprised at his question. "I was very sorry to leave them all,
though I wanted to come here. This is such a beautiful place, and we
have everything we possibly want, and Miss Mary Pring's so nice, and
I'm getting on well with my music; and I've nothing to wish for
but one thing—" and the little girl's face suddenly grew overclouded.
"And that one thing?" he questioned, with a smile.
"I wish you did not think me untruthful, Uncle Jasper." Joy's face
grew very grave as she spoke. "Indeed, I am not that, though I've
heaps of other faults. Do try to believe I tell the truth."
The old man looked at her keenly, and as he met her earnest gaze,
he forgot all his reasons for having mistrusted her, and answered:
"Very well, Joy, I will.
"Oh, Uncle Jasper, how glad I am to hear you say that!" she cried
delightedly, and getting up from her chair she moved swiftly to his
side, and putting her arms around his neck kissed his withered cheek.
He was deeply touched by this spontaneous act of affection; and as
for Joy, she felt at that moment that she had not a worry or a
trouble in the world.