FROSTY'S DARLINGS.
Miss Frost's alarm, surprise, and delight when Rosamund had an earnest
talk with her on the following morning can be better imagined than
described.
"Of course, you can understand," she said, "that nothing would give me
greater pleasure than having the darlings here with me; but how am I to
trust Irene? Agnes is rather a timid little thing. Hughie is brave
enough. I should not be afraid of him. He is fourteen; Agnes is only
eleven. I am so afraid that Agnes, who has a little bit of me in her
nature, will succumb utterly and show Irene that she is afraid of her.
Then all would be lost."
"Nothing will be lost," replied Rosamund. "It is the very best plan
possible. You must make Irene the guardian of Agnes from the very first.
You must make her take that position with her; it is the only thing to
do. The mistake has been that people were terrified of her. Her
character, which is really very fine, has been spoiled by such a course.
Give her a little tender thing to love, and make her guard that
creature, and she will fight for her to the very death. I do believe it.
Trust me, I have studied her character so carefully."
"I do indeed trust you, dear," replied Miss Frost, with tears in her
eyes. "Well, then, if Lady Jane approves"----
Of course Lady Jane approved. She said at once that she did not wish to
leave The Follies.
"I like to go away sometimes in November," she said, "or at the end of
October, when the leaves are falling. But I love my own beautiful home
in the summer weather best of all places on earth, and I am afraid of
taking Irene to fashionable places. I tried her once at the seaside for
a week; but her conduct was scandalous, and I was forced to bring her
home at a minute's notice. I needn't repeat what she did; but she really
was unbearable to every one in the house. Of course, Miss Frost, if your
little brother and sister can be happy here, I shall be delighted to
receive them."
"Then I will write this very day," said Miss Frost; and Rosamund took
care that she kept her word.
In consequence, just as the holidays at the Merrimans' began, on the
very day that Mrs. Merriman walked all the way to The Follies in order
to see Rosamund, the little Frosts also made their appearance on the
scene.
Mrs. Merriman came an hour before the children. She was dressed in her
usual prim and proper style, and Rosamund could not help owning to a
distasteful feeling when she saw her. She and Irene were walking about
in a considerable state of excitement. Irene had been planning every
hour of the day for her visitors.
"You know I have never had visitors before," she said. "I don't exactly
count you as a visitor. You are dearer to me than I am to myself. You
are all the world to me; but these are visitors. If I could only forget
that they belonged to Frosty all would be well."
"But you must on no account forget it. You must think of Frosty's
pleasure as well as your own. You know you have promised--yes, you have
promised me, you who don't tell lies--to go up, not down, in future. Oh,
there is Mrs. Merriman! I must run and speak to her."
"That prim, dumpling sort of woman? Oh, all right, go; but don't stay
long with her. I want you. I am beginning to count the minutes now. I
feel so terribly anxious at your leaving me."
Rosamund almost wished that she were not obliged to leave The Follies at
this juncture; but her own father and mother would not hear of her
staying away from them. She accordingly left Irene on the present
occasion, and walked across the lawn to meet Mrs. Merriman.
Mrs. Merriman paused when she saw her.
"How do you do, Rosamund?" she said. She spoke coldly, and did not hold
out her hand.
Rosamund replied in as prim a voice as the little lady had used:
"How do you do, Mrs. Merriman? I hope you are all quite well at the
school. How was Jane when you heard from her last?"
"Almost quite well, I am glad to say. She will be able to return to her
lessons in the middle of September. I have something to say to you,
Rosamund, and as we have met here in the avenue, I need not go up to the
house."
"Just as you like about that," said Rosamund. "Wouldn't you like to have
a cup of tea? I am sure Lady Jane would be pleased to see you. Are you
not tired? The walk is a somewhat long one."
"I am never tired," replied Mrs. Merriman. "If my dear husband, my
beloved Professor, had even half my strength, we should not be obliged
to keep a school full of troublesome girls at all."
"Indeed! are the others troublesome?" asked Rosamund, her eyes
sparkling.
"I cannot say that they are particularly troublesome now that you are
away."
Rosamund lowered her lids, but her eyes danced. She looked on the
ground.
"If I am to go back to the school next term, and take Irene with me, I
don't know how I shall bear it," she said to herself.
Mrs. Merriman, however, was nothing if not to the point.
"My dear," she said slowly, "it is my husband's lot and mine to have to
earn money in a way which is in no way congenial to either of us."
"But you are always so kind! You never gave any trouble of any sort,"
was Rosamund's response. "You seemed to understand us in a sort of
fashion. It was--Lucy!" she added with a burst.
"Lucy is my darling, beloved, and only child. You must not say a word
against her. I cannot stand it."
"Very well, I will try not to; but you know she does not like me."
"She certainly doesn't; but has she any reason for liking you,
Rosamund?"
"Perhaps she has not; that is quite probable. I know I was not
particularly good when I was at Sunnyside."
"And do you think you are particularly good now?"
"I do not. Perhaps I see my faults more plainly than ever. But I have
helped Irene, and Irene is worth helping."
"I hardly dare to think of what I have come about to-day; but the
Professor has sent me. He has received a letter from your mother, and he
has also seen Mr. Singleton, and Mr. Singleton has suggested an
extraordinary thing. He wants both you and Irene--yes, the dreaded, the
feared Irene--to come to our beautiful house for next term. You were
practically expelled from the school; but he wants you to come back
again, and the Professor has sent me to say that he is willing to
receive you both, on condition that you will not disturb the peace of
the house."
"As far as I am concerned, I will not disturb it; but I cannot answer
for Irene."
"I dread her unspeakably," said Mrs. Merriman. "Do walk with me for a
little down this path, my dear. You, of course, are only an ordinarily
naughty girl. You have been very disobedient, but I can overlook that,
and perhaps understand it; but she--some people say she is not quite
right in the head. Do you think that is true?"
"I know it to be false. She has cleverer brains than most of us."
"Then, if that is the case, she is just extraordinarily wicked--wicked
beyond most people."
"You may think that if you like, Mrs. Merriman, but it is also untrue. I
will tell you quite frankly what has been wrong with Irene. People have
been afraid of her. I was the only person who ever came across her path
who showed no fear at her presence. I simply conquered her by having a
stronger will than she has. Now, if all your girls will behave in that
sort of fashion to her, not minding her when she does what she considers
clever little tricks, she will soon stop them. I don't believe she will
even attempt them, for I shall do my utmost to prevent it. But if she
does, your only plan is to take no notice of her. If people show no
fear, then her fun is gone--her wings are cut, in short. That was the
way I got an influence over her, and it is the way in which others may
get an influence over her. I want her to sleep in my room, instead of
dear Jane, whom I am so fond of."
"Oh! that will be quite easily managed, for no other girl would endure
her as a room-fellow."
"I will do my very best to keep her tame. More I cannot say."
"I suppose you are very kind; but do tell me, is it true that she puts
wasps down people's necks? Does she put leeches into the beds without
any one knowing anything about it? It is perfectly awful to think of."
"I am not going to tell tales out of school," said Rosamund, laughing.
"I can only say that Irene is greatly improved; and if your girls, your
Lucy included, will behave themselves, and not show the slightest
fear--and why should they fear?--I think she will come out of the ordeal
a brave and strong and good girl. They all ought to help, and I wish I
could see them all and tell them so."
"I do believe you are quite a good girl," said Mrs. Merriman, turning
her eyes in some amazement and looking at Rosamund. "I have been very
angry with you, and so was Lucy; my poor dear Lucy will never quite
forgive you; but I see now that you meant right, although you went the
wrong way about it."
"It seemed the only way at the time. I am very sorry if I have troubled
you," said Rosamund.
"Well, then, I will expect you and Irene at the beginning of the term.
You shall share the same room, and I trust you to keep Irene within
bounds. Now, good-by."
Mrs. Merriman turned and walked down the avenue, and was soon lost to
view.
Irene, who had been watching this interview from the top branch of a
tall tree, now quickly descended and came up to Rosamund's side.
"So she has gone!" she said. "So she is to be my head-mistress in
future. But never mind her now. It is a long way off school-days, and
the holidays have hardly begun. Frosty has gone off to fetch the
children. I am dying with excitement to see them. But it was great fun
to watch you, Rosamund. I could not hear what your words were; but I saw
that you were pleading for me, and promising to be my sponsor, my
godmother. As if I could be good there!"
"You must be good. I have declared it; I have almost staked my
reputation on the fact. You will not disappoint me," was Rosamund's
reply.
The girls walked about for some little time together, and by-and-by
there came the sound of wheels, and they knew that the travelers had
arrived.
"Come along, Irene," said Rosamund; and they went down the avenue to
meet Miss Frost, who was herself driving the governess-cart. Her thin
face was flushed with excitement, her eyes were bright; she looked ten
years younger, and almost pretty. An exceedingly pretty little girl,
with dark eyes, and a quantity of fair hair tumbling about her face, sat
close up to her half-sister. A boy, plain, with freckles, sandy hair,
and light-blue eyes, was ejaculating in a lordly tone:
"I tell you, sister, you are not holding the reins right!--Oh, hullo!"
he exclaimed as he saw Irene and Rosamund. "Won't you tell my sister
that she is not to hold the reins like that? She is nagging at the
pony's mouth all the time, and hurting him."
"Of course she is," said Irene, springing forward.
Hugh jumped from the governess-cart. Miss Frost also descended. Hugh and
Irene had an earnest harangue on the subject of pony-driving, and Miss
Frost, much relieved at such an unceremonious introduction, turned her
attention to little Agnes.
"Agnes is tired, and has a headache, and would like me to take her into
the house. May I?" she said, looking appealingly at Rosamund.
But Rosamund was not going to shirk her duty. These children were to be
Irene's guests, and they must be immediately put into their right
position. She turned, therefore, to her little friend and touched her on
the arm.
"Irene," she said, "you ought to have a proper introduction to Agnes.
This is Agnes Frost."
Little Agnes came shyly forward and looked straight up with her big dark
eyes at Irene. She was a smaller girl, and if possible still more
delicate-looking, but very pretty and interesting. Hugh, who had been
having such an interesting debate with Irene, now stepped up to Agnes
and flung his arm round her neck.
"She is tired, poor baby!" he said. "She wants to go in and go to sleep
for an hour. You have a headache, haven't you, little un?"
"Yes," replied Agnes. "My head aches rather badly. It is the train--it
always makes me feel sick."
"Then shall I take you into the house?" said Irene.
She forgot Hugh, to Hugh's own amazement. She took Agnes' tiny hand and
led her toward the house. Miss Frost longed to follow; but Rosamund held
her back.
"No, no. On no account go with them," she said. "Let Irene feel that she
has got possession of the little one at once. You see how confidently
Agnes gave her hand. That is the best possible sign. Let her take her to
her room and see after her comforts."
Irene--who never before in all her life had any creature to look up to
her, who was looked down upon with terror and shunned by her
fellow-creatures, with the exception of Rosamund, who ruled her,
although with the weapons of love--felt an altogether new sensation now
as the little creature, not so old as herself, clung to her confidently.
"I shall be glad to lie down," said little Agnes. "Have you ever gone
long journeys by train, and does your head ache?"
"No, I haven't gone long journeys by train; but I will take you to your
room and draw down the blinds, and you can go to sleep."
"May I? That is what I want more than anything else. If I could sleep
for half-an-hour I should feel better."
"You shall, of course," said Irene.
She walked slowly through the house, holding this small, dependent
creature by the hand. Was she not her guest? She forgot all about poor
Miss Frost, whose heart was devoured with jealousy; for little Agnes, in
the olden times, had clung to her. Now she clung close to Irene.
"You are so nice," she said, "and so pretty! I am glad I am coming to
spend the holidays with you."
"Are you?" said Irene, with a queer look.
James the footman saw them as they went upstairs; and Lady Jane stood at
the drawing-room door, but made no sign.
Irene presently reached the small but very prettily arranged room which
the little girl was to occupy.
"This room opens out of Frosty's," she said.
"Who is Frosty?" asked the child.
"My governess, of course, and your sister."
"Oh! but I'd rather sleep in a room opening out of yours. Can't I? Of
course, I'm very fond of my dear sister Emily; but you are so fresh, and
I think you will take care of me."
"There is a tiny room which you could have next to mine, and we could
have the doors open, and I promise to be awfully careful of you, if you
really like it best," said Irene, who felt more and more charmed at the
dependence of this small creature.
"Yes, I know I'd like it best. But may I lie down here just for the
present?"
"Of course you may."
Irene herself helped to remove Agnes's boots. She laid her on the bed
and put the coverlet over her, and then rang the bell. One of the
housemaids appeared.
"I want some tea," said Irene in a lofty tone, "for little Miss Agnes
Frost. You can bring it up on a tray with cakes, and I can have some at
the same time. And please arrange the pink bedroom opening out of mine
for Miss Agnes to sleep in to-night. Do you hear? Do you understand?"
"Yes, miss, of course," said the girl, retiring in a great hurry in the
utmost amazement; for over Irene's curious, expressive little face had
come a new look--a look of protection, almost of motherhood.
She bent down and kissed little Agnes; and Agnes put her thin arms round
her neck, and said, "Oh, you are so beautiful, and so--so kind to me! Of
course, I love dear sister Emily; but she is old, and you are young. I
want somebody young--somebody like you--to be kind to me, for I am such
a timid little girl. Will you take care of me?"
"I vow I will," said Irene.
"Then you will hold my hand if I do drop asleep--for this is such a big,
strange house, and I may feel frightened?"
"No one shall frighten you while I am here," was Irene's answer.
The housemaid, the veritable Susan who had once spoken such harsh things
to Irene, presently came in with the tea-tray. Irene herself poured out
the tea and brought it to little Agnes, who drank it feverishly, and
then lay down; but she was too tired and too ill from her journey to
care to eat any cakes. Just as she was dropping off to sleep, Miss Frost
put in an anxious face.
"Run away, Frosty; run away at once. She is my charge," said Irene; and
Miss Frost, smothering the jealousy which could not but arise in her
heart, left the room.
This was a position she had not expected. Nevertheless, there was no
help for it.
"Now, I am going to munch cakes, and you shall sleep. Would you like me
to tell you a story while you are dropping off to sleep?"
"If it isn't at all frightening--if it is nice."
"I will tell you about the little princess in Hans Andersen. My darling,
my noble, my beloved Rosamund told it to me, and I will tell it to you.
Now then, listen."
Irene began. She could tell that marvelous tale with all the grace and
unction and passion which her genius inspired her with. Little Agnes
listened and listened, and forgot her terrors. She clung closer and
closer to her companion, and when the story came to an end her starry
eyes were brimful of tears.
"Oh, that is very sweet!" said the little girl. "And now the little
princess is one of the spirits of the air, and she has won
something"----
"She has won her soul," said Irene in a strange, strangled sort of
voice; for it occurred to her that, after all, the little princess might
have a greater resemblance to herself than ever she had thought. For was
she not fighting for her own soul all this time?
While little Agnes slept, Irene sat in the room by her side still and
quiet. There were voices heard in the distance; the manly voice of
Hughie, who was somewhat dictatorial, and was ordering people about, and
telling this person or the other that they were doing things wrong, and
was terrifying his sister by his manly ways. There was Rosamund's voice,
who was quite delighted at the turn events had taken. There was Miss
Frost's voice, anxious about Agnes, and quite sure that Irene must end
by terrifying her. There was Rosamund again persuading and soothing, and
doing all she could to allow the present order of things to take a
natural course. But upstairs in the pretty little bedroom the child
slept peacefully; and Irene looked at her and felt new sensations, new
hopes, new desires struggling in her breast. She had loved Rosamund
because she was so strong. She was beginning to love little Agnes
because she was so weak. What a strange tangle the world was! What was
happening to her? And why was that curious living thing within so
satisfied, so happy, so sure of itself?
It was between six and seven o'clock when Agnes, neatly and tidily
dressed, came downstairs, accompanied by Irene, who led her straight
into the drawing room.
"This is Agnes Frost, mothery," said Irene; "and you are on no account
to tire her. She is better now. Are you not, Agnes?"
"Yes, I am better," replied the little girl. "But who is this grand lady
you are introducing me to?"
"This is my mother--Lady Jane."
"I never knew anybody called 'Lady' before."
"Well, my mother is Lady Jane--Lady Jane Ashleigh."
Little Agnes held out a timid hand.
"How do you do, dear? I hope you have got over the fatigue of your
journey."
"Oh, yes, mothery, she is quite well now. Don't worry her," said Irene
almost rudely. "I am going to take her out in the boat on the lake."
"Be sure you are very careful."
"I will be careful enough."
Just then Miss Frost came in.
"Agnes, I hear Irene wants to take you out in the boat. You are not to
go."
"But she has promised," said little Agnes.
She raised confiding dark eyes to her new friend's face.
"You must trust me, Frosty. Don't be a perfect goose," said Irene; and
taking Agnes' hand, they went down across the summer lawn to the place
where the boat was moored. By-and-by Irene was seen by those who
watched, gently rowing among the water-lilies, with little Agnes at the
other end of the boat.
"What a beautiful girl you are!" little Agnes kept saying; "and how
happy my sister ought to be, living always with you!"
"Don't ask her if she is happy for a day or two. I have given directions
about your room. You shall sleep in the little pink room next to mine."