PERSECUTION
The children went about with terror in their hearts expecting every
moment that they would be discovered. On coming in to dinner they
fancied that Mistress Mowbray looked at them with unusual severity,
but she said nothing, yet perhaps it was only because Master Eustace
Cleveland of Lunedale was there.
The guest looked at Audry, who came in first. “Is that your daughter?”
he said to Richard Mowbray. “By my troth, sir, but you have cause to be
proud of her.”
Master Mowbray presented the child and she louted[23] low and went
to her place. Meanwhile, Mistress Mowbray had signed to Aline to be
seated. When Master Cleveland looked across again he saw Aline and
started visibly. He did not as a rule take the least interest in
children, but this was a revelation. “I did not know that you had two
daughters,” he said, and was going to say something further, when
Mistress Mowbray, who had noticed his pleased surprise, cut him short
by saying: “She is Master Mowbray’s cousin, a Gillespie, her great
grandmother married one of those Scots; the family of course came to
grief and Richard seems to think it is his business to see after her.
But you would not believe the trouble she is, to look at her. It’s
amazing how sly and dishonest some girls can be. I have something to
say to you later, Aline, about what I found in your room this morning.”
[23] The “lout” was the predecessor of the curtsey.
Aline shook and looked terrified, to Mistress Mowbray’s joy, who was
delighted at confusing her before the stranger.
Master Cleveland felt his heart fill with enmity toward Mistress
Mowbray. “I am sure that woman is a liar,” he said to himself, and he
could hardly take his eyes off Aline all through the meal, except for
an occasional glance at Audry, who also fascinated him not a little.
“Well, I shall never think children uninteresting again,” he thought,
“if ever they can look like that. ’Sdeath, I should like to see those
two when they grow up, they will be fine women. That Gillespie girl is
quite uncanny,--simply to look at her makes one feel a low born brute.
Widow Pelham shall have a new cottage, by my halidame she shall; and
Jock Mostyn shall have a pension. God in heaven, what a face, and what
hands! I did not know there were such hands.”
After dinner Mistress Mowbray went with her guest and Master Richard
through the Hall and the gardens, and the children escaped.
Cleveland saw Aline again for a moment. He was coming back from the
garden and she nearly ran into him. “I cry you mercy, Master,” she said.
“Then give me some Michaelmas daisies as a token of repentance,” he
said laughing.
There was a magnificent show of huge blooms along one of the quaint
old paths, so she ran and gathered them and held them out. He took
them from her hand with a ceremonious bow and put them in his bonnet.
“My favour!” he said, “it is a pity there is no tourney, little lady.
Mother of God,” he added to himself, “it’s time I turned over a new
leaf.”
At supper Mistress Mowbray said nothing to Aline, because her husband
was present. He for his part saw that the child was looking unhappy,
but had forgotten the remark at dinner, as Mistress Mowbray was always
saying sharp things; so he tried to enliven her.
“Thou hast never read to me again, little one, to-morrow thou must
read something from one of those old books that thou hast found in the
library.”
Aline trembled; then Cousin Richard knew too, she thought. What should
she do with herself?
“Methinks I would as lief have some more Malory,” he went on, “and
Audry would like that too, or mayhap ye would like to ride over to
Stanhope with me, what think ye, the two of you?”
Aline breathed again. Then perhaps he did not know after all. “I would
fain go to Stanhope,” she said.
“So would I,” said Audry, as both the children saw that it might put
off the evil day with Mistress Mowbray. “It will be our last chance of
a good ride before the winter, it may come any time now.”
The next morning therefore, the three rode over the moors to Stanhope.
It was a glorious day and Aline for a time forgot her troubles.
The day following they had to go in to Middleton Market, so it was
not till after rere-supper that Eleanor Mowbray took Aline apart and
said,--“Come with me, I want to speak with you.”
Aline’s heart sank.
“I want to know,” Mistress Mowbray began, “what you mean by taking such
liberties in my house? I have told you what you may have and what you
may not have, and you dare to take things to which you have no right.”
Aline hung her head.
“You may well look ashamed, you young hussie, but I tell you there is
going to be an end to this kind of thing. I cannot think why Master
Mowbray interfered with my arrangements about the library, when I
had forbidden you to go in, but he will not interfere this time I’ll
warrant you.
“I went up into your room yesterday and found there a length of fine
new linen. What business have you to be buying fine linen withal, when
I say that any coarse dowlas is good enough for you? When you are in
this house you will crave my leave before you do such things; you will
do as I say and dress as I say or, certes, I will know wherefore.”
Aline felt relieved. After all it was only the linen and Mistress
Mowbray even thought she had bought it; but the angry dame went
on;--“The more I see of you the more I mislike your conduct and I do
not care for such baggage to associate with my daughter. It would be my
will to turn you from the house, but Master Mowbray sheweth a foolish
kindness toward you, so I have compacted with my sister Anne that Audry
shall go over to Appleby right speedily and pay her a long visit. She
hath ever wanted to have the child there and it will be an opportunity
for Audry to come to know her respectable cousins, and meanwhile I can
keep you more under my eye.”
Poor little Aline. At the moment this seemed more terrible even than
anything that could have happened if the book had been discovered.
“Moreover,” said Mistress Mowbray, “you are getting too much of the
fine lady altogether, you seem to forget that you are not a member of
this family and that your position should in sooth be that of a menial.”
Eleanor Mowbray calculated that, with Audry out of the way, it would be
more possible for her to wreak her spite on the child without it being
known. Why should this pauper dependent, this mere skelpie, dare to
thwart her will? Master Gower and Master Latour indeed! should she not
be mistress in her own house? And by way of further justification, was
not Aline depriving Audry of her birthright, since, attracted as all
undoubtedly were by Audry, they were attracted by Aline still more?
She then sent for Audry and Aline escaped to her room and flung herself
on her bed. She was too heartbroken even to cry and could only moan
piteously,--“Oh, Father dear, why did you go away and leave your
little girl all alone in the world?” She then took out the miniatures
of her father and mother and gazed at them. “Mother dear, when Father
was alive, your little motherless girl could be happy; but now it is
so very hard; but she will try to be brave.” She then knelt down and
prayed, and after that the unnatural tension passed and the tears
flowed freely, so that when Audry came up to their room she was calmer.
“I call it a downright shame,” said Audry. “If I am to go to Aunt Anne,
why should not you come too? Aline, dear, I cannot bear to go away
without you. I think I love you more than any one else in the world.
Of course I shall have my cousins, but, oh! I shall miss you; and you
will be so lonely.”
“Yes, but grieve not, Audry, darling, you will come back again, and in
sooth you should have a good time and Master Mowbray anyway will be
kind to me and so will Elspeth.”
“But that is not the same thing at all; there will be no one even to
brush your hair, so this will be almost the last time.”
The children were by now half undressed and Audry with the assistance
of the new comb went through the somewhat lengthy process of brushing
and combing the wonderful hair that reached nearly to Aline’s knees.
When Aline had done the same to her, they put on their bed-gowns and
Audry said, “You must sleep with me to-night.” So Aline got into her
bed and although they both cried a little, they were soon asleep locked
in each other’s arms. The moon peeped in and lit up the picture with a
streak of light, which fell where one of Aline’s beautiful hands with
its delicate fingers and perfect skin lay out on the coverlet. No one
but the moon saw the picture, but she perhaps understood neither its
beauty nor its pathos.