fell to their lot, and one shining hour rested in Arthur's memory in the
days to come as the typical instance of the warm home-like sunshine, the
everyday happiness, of the summer when he was engaged to Mysie.
Once upon a time--there seems no fitter beginning--on a still, hot
summer afternoon, Arthur and Mysie went down the new-mown meadows to the
water-side. They were going in a boat down the canal to where it joined
the river at a place called Fordham Beeches, where Frederica and Flossy
Venning were to meet them, having walked through the woods.
Oxley canal was but a canal. Its waters sparkled over no pebbles,
revealed no pellucid depths; but to-day its dull and sluggish face
reflected the "blue, unclouded weather," and the slow oars splashed up
living light. The speedwells were hardly faded, the pink bindweed
blossomed all over its grassy edges. The flat meadows were green as
emerald. Pollard willows hung over one side, and brightly-painted
barges were tugged along by the towing-path on the other.
Arthur rowed slowly, and Mysie sat, in her big straw hat, facing him;
and they talked of the time when they should live together in the old
red-brick Bank House, in Oxley, unless Hugh married; and then there were
the pretty little villas on the Redhurst road. They talked of ways and
means, pounds, shillings, and pence; and laid their plans, and settled
what they would and what they would not do; and how, in a year's time,
Hugh would be satisfied of Arthur's capacity and steadiness, and would
admit him to that share in the Bank proposed for him by his father.
And, as they talked, they passed along the back of Redhurst village and
past the turnip-fields, where the little partridges were beginning to
run and flutter, and Hugh's bit of copse, where little brown rabbits
were already taking their evening airing.
"Too many by half," said Arthur, and Mysie declared that he was cruel,
as their course was stopped by Redhurst lock, rendered necessary by the
more broken ground.
The lock-keeper's little cottage, in a bower of vines, stood on one
side; and Mysie blushed as she sat in the boat, for the men smiled as
they greeted Arthur and responded to his remark on the rabbits; and the
lock-keeper's daughter--a tall girl, with fair hair flying in the sun--
laughed as she curtseyed and called her little sister to "look at Miss
Mysie."
"Alice Wood sees us," whispered Mysie.
"We can see Alice Wood," said Arthur, as the nursery-gardener's smart
seedsman strolled by with a parcel, and whispered to the girl, who
turned off giggling, shy of the young lady, who gave her a
half-sympathetic smile as the boat slowly sank down--down into the cool,
damp shadow--down below the steep, dank sides, below the sparkling
water--till the great doors groaned back and they shot out into light
and sunshine and life, again.
Mysie drew a long breath.
"I am glad to get out," she said. "It seems like the bottom of the
sea."
Arthur laughed.
"I am afraid we shouldn't make many scientific discoveries here. It
would be hardly like dredging the deep sea-water."
"Do you know," said Mysie, "I always think of the bottom of the sea as
if it was like Andersen's Little Mermaid, with beautiful shells and
strange creatures and coloured sea-weeds covering the poor drowned
people like the leaves did the children in the wood?"
"`Should toss with tangle and with shells,'" quoted Arthur. "I don't
think one associates the idea of rest with drowning."
"Oh," said Mysie, "I did, after I read that story. It was my great
favourite."
"You must show it to me. But I say, my darling, look out! That old
swan wants your blue ribbons."
The great majestic swan, with white ruffled plumes and fierce writhes of
his long neck, bore down fiercely on them.
"Now, he has come down the river from Redhurst," said Mysie. "Row
faster, Arthur; he is horribly fierce, and, besides, the others will be
tired of waiting."
"Never mind them," said Arthur, "we shall be in the river in a moment,
and then we're close on Fordham Beeches."
So they sped on their way to where the canal joined the bed of the
river, and here the banks were broken and picturesque; great yellow
flags, and white star-like lilies grew in the shallow water; and now the
great grey boles of Fordham Beeches appeared rising from their carpet of
bright brown leaves.
"There are the girls," said Mysie, waving her hand.
Arthur rested on his oars and tilted his hat back, with a sudden twinkle
of consternation in his merry grey eyes:
"I say, Mysie, we've forgotten the basket!"
"Oh, my dear Arthur, what shall we do? You called me to look at that
horrid little tom-tit just as I was going to give it to you. The
strawberries and _everything_! And they have walked all these miles in
the heat!"
"I know," cried Arthur. "Don't you say a word. I'll settle it."
And as they pulled into the landing and Flossy and Frederica ran down to
meet them he called out:
"I say, Flossy, get into the boat. I've got such a splendid idea.
We'll go and eat strawberries at `The Pot of Lilies.'"
"`The Pot of Lilies!' But you've brought some strawberries, haven't
you?"
"Oh, never mind! It's such a jolly place. You can get a capital glass
of beer there, and it's only fifty yards further on. Jump in, Freddie."
"But, Arthur, are you quite sure it's proper?" said Mysie.
"Proper? oh, dear, yes! No one there on a week-day."
"Now, if you will humbly confess that you and Mysie forgot all about the
provisions, and that you never thought of `The Pot of Lilies' till this
moment, we'll come," said Flossy.
"Flossy! I'll confess I never heard of `The Pot of Lilies' till Mysie
mentioned that you and she rowed up here now and then of an evening!
Come along. I'll take care of you, and neither Hugh nor Miss Venning
will come and _proctorise_ us."
"The Pot of Lilies" was a tiny public-house, so called from the lilies
of the valley which were supposed to grow wild in Fordham Woods. It
stood close by the water's edge, with a little landing-place of its own,
and a quaint, small-paned bow-window hanging over the river. Bright
flowers grew on every window-sill and the Lily sign-board swung
overhead. On one side was a garden, where arches and arbours, twined
with creepers, shaded one or two little tables; for here, on fine Sunday
evenings, Oxley and Redhurst sometimes came to tea.
Arthur sprang out of the boat and went in alone; but, soon reappearing,
said:
"Come along; it's all right," and a very smiling hostess escorted the
girls into the bow-windowed sitting-room while Arthur went to make his
further arrangements.
There were china shepherds and great shells on the mantelpiece, queer
coloured prints of the Queen and the Duke of Wellington on the wails,
which were broken up by endless beams and cupboards.
"What a dear little room!" said Mysie; and, though the floor was sanded
and there was a faint odour suggestive of beer and pipes, perhaps this
only gave a slight flavour of novelty to the situation.
"I'm sure, Miss," said the landlady, addressing Flossy, who looked the
most responsible of the party, "I only wish the gentleman had sent his
orders beforehand, for in the middle of the week, you see, Miss, we
don't have so much company. If you'll excuse me, Miss--" and she
vanished in search of various necessaries.
Arthur soon returned, saying:
"We're going to have tea in an arbour. It's a lovely spot!"
The three girls followed him down the little gravel path, bordered by
box edgings, to an erection which was termed by the proprietress "the
harbour," and which was built of wood and partly shaded by an
apple-tree. Monthly roses climbed up its trellis-work front; and
stones, shells, and broken bottles were picturesquely disposed in heaps
at its two sides. It contained some chairs and a round table, on which
preparations for their meal were begun, and at present consisted of a
cloth and large mustard-pot. This was, however, followed by slices of
ham, bread and butter, and water-cresses, and by some tea, which--as
neither young lady would take on herself to pour it out--Arthur
superintended, and which proved so atrocious that he substituted
ginger-beer for the girls and some bottled beer for himself. They might
have drunk the tea, however, rejoicing; for they hardly knew whether the
setting sun on the river or the steel forks and the great tall tumblers
were the most delightful, so full of merriment were they at this unusual
and amusing festivity, and they afforded quite as much amusement as they
received; for hearty landlady and pretty barmaid knew well enough who
these blushing, smiling, well-dressed young ladies were, and that Mr
Arthur Spencer, of Redhurst, was engaged to one of them.
Presently strawberries and raspberries and currants, red, black, and
white, appeared on the table.
"Mysie," whispered Arthur, as he helped her to the fruit, "the Oxley
folk always come out here for their wedding trip. If they're very swell
they stay a week. Shall we follow their example?"
Mysie, of course, blushed and bridled, and Arthur said aloud:
"I propose we come and have tea here every summer. This is the 15th of
July; let us remember it next year."
"Perhaps it will rain next year," said Frederica.
"Then we will have tea inside the bow-window. What, Mysie! you're not
looking at your watch? It's _not_ time to go home."
It proved, however, time to think of it; and after a little more
lingering and a few more raspberries the four took boat again. Flossy
and Frederica rowed home through the soft summer twilight, while Arthur
and Mysie sat side by side in the stern. Mysie sang a melancholy little
song about "days of old," and how
"The sky was blue in the days of old,
But now it is always grey;"
and then they all laughed at the way they would describe what Arthur
called "their little summer outing" to the home party, for the sentiment
of Mysie's song found no echo in the heart of any one of them.
But the moon rose, and the boat came to land at last; they came home
through the meadows; and the tea-drinking at "The Pot of Lilies" was
over.
PART THREE, CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.
OUT IN THE COLD.
"Boys and girls, come out to play!"
So sang Florence Venning as she danced down the empty school-room at
Oxley Manor on the 3rd of August. The last young lady had driven from
the door--even the French governess had gone to see her friends; and
Flossy, whose devotion to the cause of education by no means precluded a
thorough enjoyment of peace and liberty, sang and danced as she picked
up stray school grammars and dictionaries and consigned them to a
six-weeks' imprisonment in the cupboard. Clarissa had been standing on
a form to reach its top shelf; and now she sat down on the desk, with
her feet on the form, and yawned.
"What are you going to do to-day?" said Flossy.
"Nothing," replied Clarissa, with emphasis. "I shall go to sleep, or
read `Tom Brown'--that's all about boys--or nurse the kitten," picking
it up and kissing it, "which is babyish in a governess, you know."
"Dear me!" said Flossy, "I shouldn't care what it was if I liked to do
it. Well, it's nice to have some time to oneself. I shall draw hard.
I shall go to the School of Art twice a-week, and see if I can't get
into the Life class; and I shall be able to help at the drawing classes
they're having down at Oxley National School. And I want to have a tea
for my Sunday class--I wonder if Mary would! And I never do read
anything steadily when the girls are here. Besides," with equal
vivacity, "I want a new dress, and must see about it; I think I'll do
that first."
"Anything else in a small way?" said Clarissa.
"Oh, fifty other things if I'd time to think of them."
"Well," said Clarissa, in languid, sleepy tones, "I don't want to read a
novel; there would be sure to be any number of girls in it! I'd like to
be a man myself for the holidays, for a change. One would take an
interest in girls then, at any rate!"
"Dear me, why _don't_ you take an interest in them? I am sure forming
the minds of others is the most interesting thing possible."
"If one had a mind of one's own. _I_ haven't."
"Clarissa, I call that affectation. I don't consider you at all a
stupid person."
"Thank you," said Clarissa, again kissing the kitten.
"Only you are so lazy. Now, will you come into Oxley about my dress?
You know we are to dine at Redhurst to-night."
"Oh, Mary will go with you about your dress. Is James Crichton come
home?"
"Yes, for a fortnight. I want to show him my sketches, and see those he
made in Italy. Well, I'll try and get Mary; but I think she is busy.
She has been writing to Mrs Grey about a girl to come as
governess-pupil."
"That girl will be a bore," said Clarissa. "Now, really," cried Flossy,
in tones of virtuous indignation, "I do think that's a shame. I am very
glad of the opportunity. I disapprove of all the books that are written
on that subject. They put it into girls' heads to pity themselves, even
if they _are_ true. And I intend that there shall be a tone here that
will be quite different. Think what a chance it is for really helping a
girl! I wish we could have two or three. _I_ shall make a friend of
her, and then see if the big girls don't do so too. But if you go and
have old-fashioned prejudices--"
"I won't make her do my hair, if that's what you mean," said Clarissa,
meekly. "Well, Kitty, come along," and, with slow, lazy steps, she
sought the drawing-room, where she sat in an easy-chair with the kitten
in her lap and read "Punch."
Flossy, finding that her eldest sister was not inclined to spend her
first leisure hours in the hot walk to Oxley, got ready to go by
herself. If Mysie Crofton's maiden bower was ordered and coloured by
the quiet completeness and tasteful arrangement that marked all her
doings, Florence Venning's afforded a proof of the variety and ambition
of her aims and of the many hobbies that chased each other through her
soul. With so many irons in the fire it was no marvel that some of them
were apt to grow cold; that the plants and flowers, the arrangement of
which she considered a form of art, and in which she took great pride,
sometimes wanted water; that a chalk head was displaced, half-finished,
by a water-colour landscape; and that the books in use at the moment
were apt to tumble off the edges of her dressing-table, where they had
sought a last refuge. Moreover, Flossy, in a severe fit of historical
and artistic fever, had once painted the panels of her room with scenes
from English history, set in frames of decorative flowers and scrolls.
The flowers were pretty, but the historical heroes--though exceedingly
creditable to Flossy's research and, indeed, to her powers of
execution--were hardly up to the mark of the cartoons; and their arms
and legs, as her artistic knowledge increased, became a source of
anxiety, if not of distress, though she could not resolve to have them
hidden by what Miss Venning called a "nice clean tint of buff." At
present history and heroes were finding an outlet on sundry pages of
foolscap; which, as Clarissa observed, took up less room; and which
reflected, perhaps, better the pictures of Flossy's imagination. With
her head full of the newest and most successful, Flossy set off down the
sunny road to Oxley. She walked fast, regardless that the heat deepened
her pink cheeks to crimson--for Flossy had always rather more to do than
her time permitted--and she walked well, with a free, bounding step,
carrying her head well up in the air; with smiling eyes, satisfied with
their own thoughts, yet ready for any diversion from them. The hero
gave place to blue and white muslin and to a new hat. Flossy also
arranged her intended drawing lessons, paid a call or two, transacted a
little Sunday-school business, and came home in time to dress for the
Redhurst dinner-party. She found Clarissa sighing over the family tea
that was to be resigned in consequence; but sighs were of no avail in
averting the evil any more than were the grumbles of Hugh over the
necessity of entertaining his neighbours. Miss Venning was always a
pleasant and popular person. Her fresh complexion and her blue eyes,
her handsome silk, and her pleasant tongue ornamented a party; but
Clarissa, though thought pretty, was regarded as more entirely the
schoolmistress, and, when so regarded, had little to say for herself.
Flossy was too devoid of sentiment and of vanity and too full of her own
concerns to be a favourite with young men. James thought her
overpowering; and though Hugh was at ease with her, no one ever having
suggested that he ought to marry her--since Flossy, handsome as she was,
was just the sort of girl who does not easily get credited with a
lover--he rarely gave her a second thought. But she and Arthur were
excellent friends, and she was much more intimate with the whole family
than was Clarissa, in whose younger days no girls had existed at
Redhurst to afford an excuse for intercourse.
James had arrived the day before. He was warmly greeted by his mother;
and, as he congratulated Arthur and Mysie, was informed that Hugh had
gone to a magistrates' meeting. Miss Katie Clinton, who was staying in
the house, had been playing croquet in pink muslin with Frederica and
the schoolboy George; and as they all sat on the terrace at tea and
Hugh's ordinary doings and sayings were mentioned, James began to feel
an odd sort of discrepancy between his thoughts and the actual facts.
"Hugh had been rather astonished at their news. Yes, he gave very
prudent advice; but, still, he had given his consent."
"Hugh did not want the new railway to come through Fordham: he was going
to vote against it. Had he talked much about Italy? Yes, a good deal.
He had described Civita Bella and the art galleries there, and the
weather, and the Roman Amphitheatre."
And presently Hugh came back, greeted Jem much in his usual way, and,
sitting down, began to talk of his meeting, and how very foolish he
considered his brother-magistrates' opinion of the matter in hand.
James could not help staring at him. Could this be the Hugh who had
declared to him in passionate language that life would be worth nothing
without Violante? Had he _really_ lectured, advised, and reproved, and
altogether taken the upper hand of the brother now sitting before him?
"I could as soon call at Lambeth and lecture the Archbishop of
Canterbury," thought James. "Surely he never begged and prayed me to
take his part with the Mum! _Does_ he remember it all as well as I do?
He doesn't look altered."
And yet James missed something that had been in his brother's face
during that brief fortnight they had spent together at Civita Bella.
Lights and shadows had all been stronger then; the clear, sensible eyes
had changed and softened, and the handsome lips, that Hugh would never
hide by a moustache, had not been set so close together. As James
turned his eyes away from this inspection they met Arthur's, looking at
him curiously.
"Well, Arty," he said, getting up, "come and have a smoke, and let's
hear all about it."
Jem and Arthur were much more companionable together than either of them
was with Hugh, and now strolled down the garden, and after a little
desultory talk Jem said:
"Well, and what did Hugh say to you?"
"I declare, Jem, I never was in such a funk in my life! Hugh said--just
what he ought to have said, of course; but he wasn't gushing."
"No? And how has he conducted himself since?"
"Well," said Arthur, "if it were possible that Hugh could have fallen a
victim to some lovely black-eyed peasant, or--you didn't meet any girls,
did you?"
"Nonsense, Arthur! Everyone isn't in your predicament."
"Then the Bank must be shaky," said Arthur coolly.
"Do you mean to say that Hugh is out of sorts?" said Jem, after a little
pause.
"Well," said Arthur, more seriously, "I shouldn't like to think that he
was put out about Mysie and me; but everything rubs him up the wrong
way. To give you an instance: You know there's to be a great gathering
to open the new Town-Hall, and a concert and dinner. The
Lord-Lieutenant is to bring his bride, and Hugh is on the committee.
Well, I went to one of the meetings to represent the interests of
Redhurst, as the villages round are to send their choirs and
school-children to sing `God Save the Queen' in the square outside. So
I went to see that our people were provided for, and also to get good
places for Aunt Lily and the girls. There were the rector, and Sir
William Ribstone, and the mayor, and everyone else. You never heard
anything like the way in which Hugh bothered them. Not a suggestion
would he let pass without pulling it all to pieces, till they came to a
perfect deadlock. Hugh was perfectly civil, but cantankerous enough to
drive the old gentlemen frantic, and generally he knows exactly where to
give in. I thought he was overworked, and begged him to let me begin
going to the Bank; but he _will_ say I shall not pledge myself without
due consideration; which, you know, Jem, is really enough to drive a
fellow wild! Consider? As if I hadn't considered! He seems to think
one can never cease to be a boy!" concluded Arthur, viciously.
James laughed. He would much have liked to confide the story to Arthur;
but somehow he felt that Hugh regarded it so seriously that he could not
tell it as a good joke, in which light Arthur, never having seen
Violante, would be almost sure to regard it. A few hours soon showed
him the truth of his cousin's remarks. Hugh, though somewhat
condescending, was generally courteous and obliging enough; but the
captious way in which he complained of the approaching dinner-party, and
the spiteful comments he made on Miss Clinton's manners and looks, his
scornful laugh at Arthur's open boyish love-making, were the spray that
indicated the waters of a bitter fountain. But he did not soften, even
to his brother; on the contrary, with defiant bravado, he referred to
the subject, asking James if he did not triumph in the result of his
predictions that all would soon be as if his foolish fancy had never
come to disturb him.
James was not a person to stir the waters, even with a view to their
final sweetening. He disliked a fuss too much to face the matter out.
He did not sympathise with the feelings which he supposed to exist in
Hugh's breast; it was better to suppose the thing a trifle, after all;
so he answered:
"Oh, well, no one's the worse for a bit of romance in their life."
"To supply them with pleasant memories, eh? You've hit it exactly."
Hugh said no more, but a sense of contempt for the brother who was his
only confidant added to the loneliness that oppressed him. In this
humour, to sit down to dinner with Mrs Harcourt on one side of him and
Miss Clinton on the other seemed intolerable thraldom, and every subject
more unprofitable than the one before it. He was so inharmonious a host
that the discussion on local politics grew rather warm, though Mrs
Crichton sat smiling through any amount of "gentlemen's talk." James
wondered how anyone could excite themselves over drainage and rights of
way; and Arthur strenuously entertained the neglected ladies on either
side of him, glinting in between-times at Mysie as she sat far away on
the other side of the table. He was the first to propose music after
dinner, and Flossy was the first lady to accede to his request.
She stood up, erect, fair, and rosy, and began to sing, clearly and
correctly, her last Italian song: "Batti, batti."
Flossy was tolerably self-confident. She had a good voice and ear, and
she sang her Italian better than is usual with young ladies, sure of
applause at the end. She little knew how her first notes startled two
of her audience. James gave a great jump. "Profanation!" he murmured,
as he thought of the exquisite voice and accent in which he had last
heard the words uttered, of the lovely scared eyes that had so belied
their meaning. Jem smiled and sighed and drew nearer to listen, full of
the "associations" of the song, even while he glanced round to see how
his brother had taken it.