MAY’S INVITATION.
“I should like to go, Aunt Cossart, of course; but I will not accept
unless you can really spare me. Now that Effie is away, I know it is
dull for you, except in the evenings when Oscar is here.”
Mrs. Cossart held in her hands the note of invitation, which a servant
from Monckton Manor had just brought.
“Do you know who these friends are that Miss Lawrence thinks you would
like to meet?”
“No,” answered Sheila simply. “They have a good many summer visitors at
the Manor, and they are all nice people; but May does not say whether
they are any I have seen before.”
“Well, I think you had better go. It is only for three days; and I’ll
ask Ray to come and spend the time with me. She had half promised me a
visit before this. And Oscar need not go to the office regularly—that
was quite understood. Only he is such a boy for his duty that there
seems no keeping him back. However, your uncle will soon be home now;
and then perhaps we shall settle something different. But write your
note to Miss Lawrence, and say you will be there to-morrow. I will
drive you across. I want to go and see Mrs. Frost, and so it will all
be on the way.”
“Oh, thank you so much, Aunt Cossart, you are very good. I shall like
it very much if you are not left alone.”
Sheila ran to write her note with a light heart. Effie was away on a
visit to her friends the Murchisons. It had been a great advance that
she should pay a visit by herself, with only Susan in attendance. It
seemed quite a step in her recovery, and all had been pleased that she
wished it and felt able for it. In her absence Sheila and Oscar had
become quite like the children of the house, and the girl was often
surprised at the warmth of her affection towards her aunt, despite
the little fussiness and lack of tact and judgment which had so often
irritated her in old days.
Still, the thought of a few days with May was quite a treat. She had
not been over to the Manor very often of late. May had been visiting
some friends, and the girls had not met since. It was delightful of May
to think of asking her for a night or two. That kind of visit was so
much more satisfactory than just going over for the day.
Truth to tell, Sheila thought little of the “friends” she was asked to
meet. It was May she chiefly cared to see, although the house party at
the Manor when it was full of guests, was always a very pleasant one.
“May will be thinking about her wedding,” Sheila observed to her aunt
as they drove along in the bright June sunshine. “Ray says that North
does not see the use of waiting; and now that he has found that nice
house over the bridge, and in the country, though not too far away,
there doesn’t seem anything to wait for. I think he and May will be
very happy together; and it will be nice to have her so much nearer.”
“Yes, North is a steady good boy, and deserves a nice wife; but I
should never have guessed that he would marry into the county, as
people call it. That always seemed more in Cyril’s line.”
Sheila laughed. She had seen through Cyril’s veneer long ago, and
thought much more of North’s sterling worth and perfect sincerity and
simplicity. It was these qualities which had attracted May, and Sheila
thought she showed her sense and good feeling in being so quick to
appreciate them.
May received her with open arms; and in a short time they were
ensconced in one of their favourite retreats, pouring girlish
confidences into each other’s ears.
May told of her approaching marriage, which was to take place in
September, so that they would get a run on the continent a little later
than the August rush, and yet be settled at home comfortably for the
winter.
“You must come and see the house to-morrow,” cried May. “It is such a
dear old place; not big, you know, but quite old-fashioned; and such a
quaint old walled garden that shuts us out from the world. It is away
from other houses now, close to the village of Twick; but as North
says, Isingford is creeping out that way, and it won’t be country many
more years; but our walls will keep us secluded, and inside it is all
quite delightful. We have two acres altogether, and it is so well
planted and laid out that you would think it was much more.”
Sheila was keenly interested in her friend’s prospects; and time
slipped away fast. The softened light told of a westering sun, and May
suddenly sprang up crying—
“I am sure it must be tea-time and past. Come along, Sheila. You must
be introduced to our other guests!”
They threaded the garden paths, crossed the blazing lawns, towards the
group of stately cedars beneath which several persons were seated.
Sheila could not see their faces distinctly through the sweeping
boughs; but suddenly somebody rose and made a few forward steps,
uttering a pleased little exclamation, whilst the girl gave a joyful
cry and sprang forward.
“Miss Adene! Oof—how delightful! Oh, May, why did you not say that Miss
Adene was here?”
The meeting was a warm one on both sides. Sheila’s glance swept round
the little group, but there was no other familiar face, except that of
the hostess. She was introduced to the other guests; but was quickly
seated beside Miss Adene asking questions in her eager way, and telling
of herself in turn.
“Yes, we think that Guy is quite recovered now,” said Miss Adene. “He
is wonderfully better, even since you saw him. We went to Oratava for
a little while, and then when it grew too hot there we returned to
Madeira; and before we left he seemed as strong as ever, and has not
lost a bit of ground since he got home. He begins to ride and drive,
and walk about just as he did before his illness. Ronald declares that
he will soon be quite a superfluity at the Priory. Guy is able to take
everything into his own hands again.”
“I am so glad! How happy Lady Dumaresq must be! And dear little Guy,
how is he?”
“Oh, as well as possible, the rogue! And he has not forgotten you. He
sent you lots of kisses, and an injunction that you were to come and
see him very soon. ‘Tell her if she doesn’t come soon,’ he said, ‘I
shall go mad.’”
“He didn’t,” cried Sheila, laughing, “Oh, how utterly sweet of him! He
is a darling; I should so like to see him again!”
Miss Adene asked after Effie, and time flew quickly by. It was so nice
to have lost all that old miserable feeling Sheila once thought she
must always experience if she met again these friends, whose kindness
towards her had been the immediate cause of her banishment from
Madeira, and who must, she knew, have guessed in some measure at the
cause of it.
But Miss Adene seemed to have put that memory right away, and there was
nothing but pleasure in meeting her again. It was May’s voice which
interrupted the talk at last.
“Sheila, I want to get some forget-me-nots from the stream to decorate
the dinner-table with. They are so lovely just now, and look exquisite
with moss on the white cloth. Do come with me!”
Sheila jumped up at once, and the two girls hastened away together.
May’s face was rather flushed, and her eyes were shining brightly.
The stream which ran through the park was famed for its beds of blue
forget-me-not, and there was no trouble in finding flowers enough and
to spare.
Presently the sound of voices, men’s voices, broke upon their ears, and
May jumped up, exclaiming—
“Here is North! And he is bringing back a guest of ours, who wanted to
see the works. You talk to him, Sheila, and let me have a few words
with North. I have so much to say.”
There was a merry gleam in May’s eyes, but Sheila suspected nothing
until a sudden bend in the path brought them face to face with the
approaching pair, and she saw that North’s companion was none other
than Ronald Dumaresq.
Then for a moment astonishment robbed her of her self-control, and the
flowers she was holding in her arm slipped in a mass to the ground.
Laughingly Ronald sprang forward, picked them up, and took possession
of the load.
“I hope you and your flowers are alike in nature, Miss Cholmondeley,
and that I am not quite forgotten.”
He stretched out his hand and took hers, and she, looking up into the
bright manly face, forgot her tremors and her embarrassment, and felt
nothing but a sense of pure happiness in being face to face with him
again.
“I see you do not need an introduction,” said May’s voice, with a
mischievous ring in it; and then the four began pacing back slowly
towards the house, falling naturally into two and two.
“You have seen my aunt?” asked Ronald.
“Yes; but she did not say that you had come too.”
“No, I asked her not. I wanted to give you a surprise. I hope it has
not been a very disagreeable one.”
Sheila’s old clear laugh rang out through the wood.
“If you are fishing for compliments, sir, you won’t get any out of me!”
“And I am so fond of them,” said Ronald pathetically. “Don’t you think
you might be nice and kind, and say how much you have missed me since
we parted?”
“Oof!” cried Sheila, “what next am I to say?”
“Well, if you won’t say the pretty thing, I must. Do you know, Miss
Cholmondeley, that after the sudden departure of a certain nameless
person from Madeira, everything got so stale and unprofitable to me
that I seriously threatened to come home alone; and I should have done
so if they hadn’t moved on elsewhere.”
Sheila’s face was glowing, but she answered by a gay laugh; and the
laugh was not forced, for was she not very, very happy?
“You may laugh, but I assure you it was no laughing matter to me.
Sheila, did you want to go off in that sudden fashion? Did you go of
your own accord?”
He stopped suddenly and took her hand; she gave one swift upward
glance, and then dropped her eyes.
“It was arranged for me,” she said.
“You did not want to go yourself?”
“No, not then. I was very angry about it. I had a great many wicked
thoughts, which I was very much ashamed of afterwards, because it was
such a good thing that I did go exactly at that time. It might just
have been settled for me in the very best way possible.”
“What do you mean?” asked Ronald quickly.
“You know Oscar, my brother, fell ill of typhoid fever just as I got
back. If it had not been for—for—that, I might not have been with him,
and I don’t know what I should have done then.”
Ronald’s face cleared; for a moment he had looked anxious.
“I saw Oscar just now at the works,” he said. “I liked him very much
indeed. You are not much alike, but there was something in his voice
and expression which reminded me of you.”
“I wish I were more like Oscar,” said Sheila humbly. “He is much better
than I shall ever be.”
“Don’t wish to be anything but yourself, Sheila,” said Ronald with
sudden impetuosity, “for I want you just as you are.”
The blood surged up into Sheila’s face; this was taking the bull by the
horns with a vengeance. Ronald seemed to know he had committed himself,
and stood his ground, holding her hands fast in his, and again letting
the poor forget-me-nots drop to the ground.
“Sheila, I did not mean to be so sudden, I promised not to be in such
haste; they all tell me I must not expect to carry everything before
me. But when I see you, I forget everything except that I love you. Oh,
Sheila, won’t you try and love me too? I am so sure I could make you
happy, if you would only give yourself into my keeping.”
Her eyes were on the ground, but there was that in her down-bent
quivering face that gave Ronald hope and courage. He bent over her and
touched her cheek with his lips.
“Sheila, won’t you say you will try to care for me a little?”
“Oh, Ronald, I do!” she suddenly exclaimed; and then they forgot
everything else in that wonderful first embrace of love, in which the
gates of a new world seemed flung open before them, and they walked
alone in that new world, as though it were their own for evermore.
“But, Ronald,” said Sheila gravely, after those first golden moments
had passed, and they began to awake to the realities of life, “you must
not ask me to be impatient or selfish. I must think of other people as
well, and I must not promise anything without the consent of my uncles.”
“But you are nearly of age, my darling; you will soon be your own
mistress.”
“Yes, but that is not quite it, Ronald. My uncles have been very kind
to me; my home is with one of them, and my aunt begins to depend upon
me. I must not be selfish; you would not like me if I were. We may have
to wait a little perhaps, but you won’t mind that, will you, Ronald?”
“I don’t know,” answered Ronald. “And I have an idea your aunt will
set herself against this, and she rules your uncle. I won’t have you
spirited away from me again, Sheila. That I can’t stand!”
She laughed and put her hand upon his lips.
“Don’t say rude things of my nice aunt and uncle. They are a great
deal kinder to me than I deserve, for I did not always treat them very
nicely.”
“Stuff! you were an angel; it was they who bullied you, and that Effie
always wanted to come between us.”
“No, she didn’t; that is all your fancy. Effie is much nicer than you
think, and is getting more sensible and stronger every week. She will
be on our side, I know. And, Ronald, I only want us to be reasonable
and unselfish, and not put ourselves and our affairs first. If you
asked Miss Adene, she would tell you just the same.”
“I know she would,” said Ronald, laughing, and then in a graver voice
he added, “Yes, Sheila, you are quite right; one must learn to take
the second place, and think of other people as well as oneself. If
you can be patient, so can I; and I love you all the better for your
unselfishness.”
“I wish I were unselfish,” said Sheila with a sigh. “I am only trying
to be, and it does not seem quite so hard when one is very, very happy.”
Then Ronald bent over her, kissed her once more, picked up the fallen
flowers, and walked towards the house.
(_To be concluded._)
THE PLEASURES OF BEE-KEEPING.
BY F. W. L. SLADEN.