and hat preparatory to searching the garden and the lanes in the
immediate neighbourhood, and the womenkind of the household settled down
to an hour of painful waiting.
Mrs Asplin lay back in her chair, with her hand to her head, now
silent, now breaking out into impetuous lamentations. The fear lest any
accident had happened to Peggy paralysed her with dread. Her thoughts
went out to far-away India; she imagined the arrival of the ominous
cablegram; pictured it carried into the house by a native servant; saw
the light die out of two happy faces at the reading of the fatal words.
"Oh, Peggy, Peggy!" she groaned. "Oh, the poor father--the poor mother!
What will I do? What will I do? Oh, Peggy, dearie, come back I come
back!"
Esther busied herself looking after a dozen little domestic
arrangements, to which no one else seemed capable of attendance, and
Mellicent laid her head on her mother's lap, and never ceased crying,
except for one brief interval, when she darted upstairs to peep inside
the old oak chest, prompted thereto by a sudden reminiscence of the
bride of the "Mistletoe Bough." There was no Peggy inside the chest,
however; only a few blankets, and a very strong smell of camphor; so
Mellicent crept back to her footstool, and cried with redoubled energy.
In the kitchen the fat old cook sat with a hand planted on either knee,
and thrilled the other servants with an account of how "a cousin of me
own brother-in-law, him that married our Annie, had a child as went
a-missing, as fine a girl as you could wish to see from June to January.
Beautiful kerly 'air, for all the world like Miss Mellicent's, and such
nice ways with her! Everybody loved that child, gentle and simple.
`Beller,' 'er name was, after her mother. She went out unbeknownst,
just as it might be Miss Peggy, and they searched and better
searched,"--cook's hands waved up and down, and the heads of the
listeners wagged in sympathy--"and never a trace could they find. 'Er
father--he's a stone-mason by trade, and getting good money--he knocked
off work, and his friends they knocked off too, and they searched the
country far and wide. Day and night I tell you they searched, a week on
end, and poor Isabeller nearly off her head with grief. I've heard my
sister say as she never tasted bite nor sup the whole time, and was
wasted to a shadow. Eh, poor soul, it's hard to rare up a child, and
have it go out smiling and bonnie, and never see nothink of it again but
its bones--for she had fallen into a lime pit, had Beller, and it was
nothing but her skeleton as they brought 'ome. There was building going
on around there, and she was playing near the pit--childlike--just as it
might be Miss Peggy..." Soon and on. The horrors accumulated with
every moment. The housemaid had heard tell of a beautiful little girl,
the heiress to a big estate, who had been carried off by strolling
gipsies, and never been seen again by her sorrowing relatives; while the
waitress hinted darkly that the time might come when it would be a
comfort to know force had been employed, for sharper than a serpent's
tooth was an ungrateful child, and she always _had_ said that there was
something uncanny about that little Miss Saville!
The clock was striking nine o'clock when the first of the messengers
came back to report his failure; he was closely followed by a second;
and last of all came Max, bringing word that nothing had been seen or
heard of Peggy at the Larches; that neither Lord Darcy nor Rosalind had
the faintest idea of the nature of the work which had just been
completed; and, further, that on this evening Robert was escorting his
mother to some entertainment, so that even if sent off at once a
telegram could not reach him until a late hour. Mrs Asplin turned her
white face from one speaker to the other, and, when the last word was
spoken, broke into a paroxysm of helpless weeping.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.
THE SECRET CONFESSED.
"Something has happened! Something terrible has happened to the child!
And she was left in our charge. We are responsible. Oh, if any harm
has happened to Peggy, however, ever, ever, can I bear to live and send
the news to her parents--"
"My dearest, you have done your best; you could not have been kinder or
more thoughtful. No blame can attach to you. Remember that Peggy is in
higher hands than yours. However far from us she may be, she can never
stray out of God's keeping. It all seems very dark and mysterious,
but--"
At this moment a loud rat-tat-tat sounded on the knocker, and with one
accord the hearers darted into the hall, and stood panting and gasping,
while Arthur threw open the door.
"Telegram, sir!" said a sharp, young voice, and the brown envelope which
causes so much agitation in quiet households was thrust forward in a
small cold hand. Arthur looked at the address and handed it to the
vicar.
"It is for you, sir, but it cannot possibly be anything about--"
Mr Asplin tore open the envelope, glanced over the words, and broke
into an exclamation of amazement. "It is! It is from Peggy
herself!--`Euston Station. Returning by 10.30 train. Please meet me at
twelve o'clock.--Peggy.' What in the world does it mean?" He looked
round the group of anxious faces, only to see his own expression of
bewilderment repeated on each in turn.
"Euston! Returning! She is in London. She is coming back from town!"
"She ran away to London, to-night when she was so happy, when Arthur had
just arrived! Why? Why? Why?"
"She must have caught the seven o'clock train."
"She must have left the house almost immediately after going upstairs to
dress for dinner."
"Oh, father, why should she go to London?"
"I am quite unable to tell you, my dear," replied the vicar drily. He
looked at his wife's white, exhausted face, and his eyes flashed with
the "A-word-with-you-in-my-study" expression, which argued ill for Miss
Peggy's reception. Mrs Asplin, however, was too thankful to know of
the girl's safety to have any thought for herself. She began to smile,
with the tears still running down her face, and to draw long breaths of
relief and satisfaction.
"It's no use trying to guess at that, Millie dear. It is enough for me
to know that she is alive and well. We shall just have to try and
compose ourselves in patience until we hear Peggy's own explanation.
Let me see! There is nearly an hour before you need set out. What can
we do to pass the time as quickly as possible?"
"Have some coffee, I should say! None of us have had too much dinner,
and a little refreshment would be very welcome after all this strain,"
said Arthur promptly, and Mrs Asplin eagerly welcomed the suggestion.
"That's what I call a really practical proposal! Ring the bell, dear,
and I will order it at once. I am sure we shall all have thankful
hearts while we drink it." She looked appealingly at Mr Asplin as she
spoke; but there was no answering smile on his face, and the lines down
his cheeks looked deeper and grimmer than ever.
"Oh, goody, goody, goodness, aren't I glad I am not Peggy!" sighed
Mellicent to herself; while Arthur Saville pursed his lips together, and
thought, "Poor little Peg! She'll catch it. I've never seen the
dominie look so savage. This is a nice sort of treat for a fellow who
has been ordered away for rest and refreshment! I wish the next two
hours were safely over."
Wishing, unfortunately, however, can never carry us over the painful
crises of our lives. We have to face them as best we may, and Arthur
needed all his cheery confidence to sustain him during the damp walk
which followed, when the vicar tramped silently by his side, his shovel
hat pulled over his eyes, his mackintosh coat flapping to and fro in the
wind.
They reached the station in good time, and punctually to the minute the
lights of the London express were seen in the distance. The train drew
up, and among the few passengers who alighted the figure of Peggy, in
her scarlet-trimmed hat, was easily distinguished. She was assisted out
of the carriage by an elderly gentleman, in a big travelling coat, who
stood by her side as she looked about for her friends. As Mr Asplin
and Arthur approached, they only heard his hearty, "Now you are all
right!" and Peggy's elegant rejoinder, "Exceedingly indebted to you for
all your kindness!" Then he stepped back into the carriage, and she
came forward to meet them, half shy, half smiling, "I--I am afraid that
you--"
"We will defer explanations, Mariquita, if you please, until we reach
home. A fly is waiting. We will return as quickly as possible," said
the vicar frigidly; and the brother and sister lagged behind as he led
the way out of the station, gesticulating and whispering together in
furtive fashion.
"Oh, you Peggy! _Now_ you have done it! No end of a row!"
"Couldn't help it! Had to go. Stick to me, Arthur, whatever you do!"
"Like a leech! We'll worry through somehow. Never say die!" Then the
fly was reached, and they jolted home in silence.
Mrs Asplin and the four young folks were sitting waiting in the
drawing-room, and each one turned an eager, excited face towards the
doorway as Peggy entered, her cheeks white, but with shining eyes, and
hair ruffled into little curls beneath the scarlet cap. Mrs Asplin
would have rushed forward in welcome, but a look in her husband's face
restrained her, and there was a deathlike silence in the room as he took
up his position by the mantelpiece.
"Mariquita," he said slowly, "you have caused us to-night some hours of
the most acute and painful anxiety which we have ever experienced. You
disappeared suddenly from among us, and until ten o'clock, when your
telegram arrived, we had not the faintest notion as to where you could
be. The most tragic suspicions came to our minds. We have spent the
evening in rushing to and fro, searching and inquiring in all
directions. Mrs Asplin has had a shock from which, I fear, she will be
some time in recovering. Your brother's pleasure in his visit has been
spoiled. We await your explanation. I am at a loss to imagine any
reason sufficiently good to excuse such behaviour; but I will say no
more until I have heard what you have to say."
Peggy stood like a prisoner at the bar, with hanging head and hands
clasped together. As the vicar spoke of his wife, she darted a look at
Mrs Asplin, and a quiver of emotion passed over her face. When he had
finished she drew a deep breath, raised her head and looked him full in
the face with her bright, earnest eyes.
"I am sorry," she said slowly. "I can't tell you in words _how_ sorry I
am. I know it will be difficult, but I hope you will forgive me. I was
thinking what I had better do while I was coming back in the train, and
I decided that I ought to tell you everything, even though it is
supposed to be a secret. Robert will forgive me, and it is Robert's
secret as much as mine. I'll begin at the beginning. About five weeks
ago Robert saw an advertisement of a prize that was offered by a
magazine. You had to make up a calendar with quotations for every day
in the year, and the person who sent in the best selection would get
thirty pounds. Rob wanted the money very badly to buy a microscope, and
he asked me to help him. I was to have ten pounds for myself if we won,
but I didn't care about that. I just wanted to help Rob. I said I
would take the money, because I knew if I didn't he would not let me
work so hard, and I thought I would spend it in buying p-p-presents for
you all at Christmas."--Peggy's voice faltered at this point, and she
gulped nervously several times before she could go on with her
story.--"We had to work very hard, because the time was so short.
Robert had not seen the advertisement until it had been out some time.
I printed the headings on the cards; that is why I sat so much in my own
room. The last fortnight I have been writing every morning before six
o'clock. Oh, you can't think how difficult it was to get it finished,
but Robert was determined to go on; he thought our chance was very good,
because he had found some beautiful extracts, and translated others, and
the pages really looked pretty and dainty. The manuscript had to be in
London this morning; if it missed the post last night, all our work
would have been wasted, and at the last moment Lady Darcy took Rob away
with her, and I was left with everything to finish. I _may_ have slept
a little bit the last two nights; I did lie down for an hour or two, and
I _may_ have had a doze, but I don't think so! I wrote the last word
this morning after the breakfast-bell had rung, and I made up the parcel
at twelve o'clock. I thought of going out and posting it then; of
course, that is what I should have done, but,"--her voice trembled once
more--"I was so tired! I thought I would give it to the postman myself,
and that would do just as well. I didn't put it with the letters
because I was afraid someone would see the address and ask questions,
and Rob had said that I was to keep it a secret until we knew whether we
had won. I left the parcel on my table. Then Arthur came! I was so
happy--there was so much to talk about--we had tea--it seemed like five
minutes. Everyone was amazed when we found it was time to dress, but
even then I forgot all about the calendar. I only remembered that
Arthur was here, and was going to stay for four days, and all the way
upstairs I was saying to myself, `I'm happy, I'm happy; oh I _am_
happy!' because, you know, though you are so kind, you have many
relatives belonging to you whom you love better than me, and my own
people are all far-away, and sometimes I've been very lonely! I thought
of nothing but Arthur, and then I opened the door of my room, and there,
before my eyes, was the parcel--Rob's parcel that he had trusted to me--
that I had solemnly promised to post in time--"
She stopped short, and there was a gasp of interest and commiseration
among the listeners. Peggy caught it; she glanced sharply at the
vicar's face, saw its sternness replaced by a momentary softness, and
was quick to make the most of her opportunity. Out flew the dramatic
little hand, her eyes flashed, her voice thrilled with suppressed
excitement.
"It lay there before my eyes, and I stood and looked at it.--I thought
of nothing, but just stood and stared. I heard you all come upstairs,
and the doors shut, and Arthur's voice laughing and talking; but there
was only one thing I could remember--I had forgotten Rob's parcel, and
he would come back, and I should have to tell him, and see his face! I
felt as if I were paralysed, and then suddenly I seized the parcel in my
hands, and flew downstairs. I put on my cap and cloak and went out into
the garden. I didn't know what I was going to do, but I was going to do
_something_! I ran on and on, through the village, down towards the
station. I knew it was too late for the post-office, but I had a sort
of feeling that if I were at the station something might be done. Just
as I got there a train came in, and I heard the porter call out, `London
express.' I thought--No! I did not think at all--I just ran up to a
carriage and took a seat, and the door banged, and away we went. The
porter came and asked for my ticket, and I had a great deal of trouble
to convince him that I had only come from here, and not all the way.
There was an old lady in the carriage, and she told him that it was
quite true, for she had seen me come in. When we went off again, she
looked at me very hard, and said, `Are you in trouble, dear?' and I
said, `Yes, I am; but oh, please don't talk to me! Do please leave me
alone!' for I had begun to realise what I had done, and that I couldn't
be back for hours and hours, and that you would all be anxious and
unhappy. I think I was as miserable as you were when I sent off that
telegram. I posted the parcel in London, and went and sat in the
waiting-room. I had an hour and a half to wait, and I was wretched and
nervous and horribly hungry. I had no money left except a few coppers,
and I was afraid to spend them and have nothing left. It seemed like a
whole day, but at last the train came in, and I saw an old gentleman
with white hair standing on the platform. I took a fancy to his
appearance, so I walked up to him, and bowed, and said, `Excuse me,
sir--I find myself in a dilemma! Will you allow me to travel in the
same carriage as yourself?' He was most agreeable. He had travelled
all over the world, and talked in the most interesting fashion, but I
could not listen to his conversation. I was too unhappy. Then we
arrived, and Mr Asplin called me `M-M-Mariquita!' and w-wouldn't let
you kiss me--"
Her voice broke helplessly this time, and she stood silent, with
quivering lip, while sighs and sobs of sympathy echoed from every side.
Mrs Asplin cast a glance at her husband, half defiant, half appealing,
met a smile of assent, and rushed impetuously to Peggy's side.
"My darling! I'll kiss you now. You see we knew nothing of your
trouble, dear, and we were so very, very anxious. Mr Asplin is not
angry with you any longer, are you, Austin? You know now that she had
no intention of grieving us, and that she is truly sorry--"
"I never thought--I never thought,"--sobbed Peggy; and the vicar gave a
slow, kindly smile.
"Ah, Peggy, that is just what I complain about. You don't think, dear,
and that causes all the trouble. No, I am not angry any longer. I
realise that the circumstances were peculiar, and that your distress was
naturally very great. At the same time, it was a most mad thing for a
girl of your age to rush off by rail, alone, and at night-time, to a
place like London. You say that you had only a few coppers left in your
purse. Now suppose there had been no train back to-night, what would
you have done? It does not bear thinking of, my dear; or that you
should have waited alone in the station for so long, or thrown yourself
on strangers for protection. What would your parents have said to such
an escapade?"
Peggy sighed, and cast down her eyes. "I think they would have been
cross too. I am sure they would have been anxious, but I know they
would forgive me when I was sorry, and promised that I really and truly
would try to be better and more thoughtful! They would say, `Peggy
dear, you have been sufficiently punished! Consider yourself
absolved!'"
The vicar's lips twitched, and a twinkle came into his eye. "Well then,
I will say the same! I am sure you have regretted your hastiness by
this time, and it will be a lesson to you in the future. For Arthur's
sake, as well as your own, we will say no more on the subject. It would
be a pity if his visit were spoiled. Just one thing, Peggy, to show you
that, after all, grown-up people are wiser than young ones, and that it
is just as well to refer to them now and then, in matters of difficulty.
Has it ever occurred to you that the mail went up to London by the very
train in which you yourself travelled, and that by giving your parcel to
the guard it could still have been put in the bag? Did that thought
never occur to your wise little brain?"
Peggy made a gesture as of one heaping dust and ashes on her head. "I
never did," she said, "not for a single moment! And I thought I was so
clever! I am prostrate with confusion!"
CHAPTER NINETEEN.
ROSALIND'S BALL.
In consideration of Arthur's presence and of the late hours and
excitement of the night before, the next day was observed as a holiday
in the vicarage. Mrs Asplin stayed in bed until lunch-time, the boys
went for a bicycle ride, and Peggy and her brother had a delightful chat
together by the schoolroom fire, when he told her more details about his
own plans than he had been able to touch upon in a dozen letters.
"The preliminary examination for Sandhurst begins on the 26th this
year," he explained, "and so far as I can make out I shall romp through
it. I am going to take all the subjects in Class One--mathematics,
Latin, French, geometrical drawing, and English composition; I'll
astonish them in the last subject! Plenty of dash and go, eh, Peggy,--
that's the style to fetch 'em! In Class Two you can only take two
subjects, so I'm going in for chemistry and physics. I rather fancy
myself in physics, and if I don't come out at the head of the list, or
precious near the head, it won't be for want of trying. I have worked
like a nigger these last six months; between ourselves, I thought I had
worked too hard a few days ago; I felt so stupid and dizzy, and my head
ached until I could hardly open my eyes. If I had not come away, I
believe I should have broken down, but I'm better already, and by
Tuesday I shall be as fit as a fiddle. I hope I do well, it would be so
jolly to cable out the news to the old pater; and I say, Peg, I don't
mean to leave Sandhurst without bringing home something to keep as a
souvenir. At the end of each Christmas term a sword is presented to the
cadet who passes out first in the final exam.--`The Anson Memorial
Sword.' Mariquita!"--Arthur smote his breast, and struck a fierce and
warlike attitude,--"that sword is mine! In the days to come, when you
are old and grey-headed, you will see that rusty blade hanging over my
ancestral hearth, and tell in faltering tones the story of the gallant
youth who wrested it from his opponents."
"Ha, ha!" responded Peggy deeply. There was no particular meaning in
the exclamation, but it seemed right and fitting in the connection, and
had a smack of melodrama which was quite to her taste. "Of course you
will be first, Arthur!" she added; "and, oh dear! how proud I shall be
when I see you in all your uniform! I am thankful all my men relatives
are soldiers, they are so much more interesting than civilians. It
would break my heart to think of you as a civilian! Of course wars are
somewhat disconcerting, but then one always hopes there won't be wars."
"I don't!" cried Arthur loudly. "No, no--active service for me, and
plenty of it!
"`Come one, come all, this rock shall fly
From its firm base as soon as I!'
"That's my motto, and my ambition is the Victoria Cross, and I'll get
that too before I'm done; you see if I don't! It's the ambition of my
life, Peg. I lie awake and think of that little iron cross; I go to
sleep and dream of it, and see the two words dancing before my eyes in
letters of fire, `For Valour,' `For Valour,' `For Valour.' Ah!"--he
drew a deep breath of excitement--"I don't think there is anything in
the world I should envy, if I could only gain that."
Peggy gazed at him with kindling eyes. "You are a soldier's son," she
said, "and the grandson of a soldier, and the great-grandson of a
soldier; it's in your blood; you can't help it--it's in my blood too,
Arthur! I give you my solemn word of honour that if the French or
Germans came over to invade this land, I'd--" Peggy seized the ruler and
waved it in the air with a gesture of fiercest determination--"I'd fight
them! There! I'd shoot at them; I'd go out and spike the guns; I'd--
I'd climb on the house-tops and throw stones at them. You needn't
laugh, I tell you I should be _terrible_! I feel as if I could face a
whole regiment myself. The spirit--the spirit of my ancestors is in my
breast, Arthur Reginald, and woe betide that enemy who tries to wrest
from me my native land!" Peggy went off into a shriek of laughter, in
which Arthur joined, until the sound of the merry peals reached Mrs
Asplin's ears as she lay wearily on her pillow, and brought a smile to
her pale face. "Bless the dears! How happy they are!" she murmured to
herself; nor even suspected that it was a wholesale massacre of foreign
nations which had been the cause of this gleeful outburst.
Arthur left the vicarage on Tuesday evening, seemingly much refreshed by
the few days' change, though he still complained of his head, and
pressed his hand over his eyes from time to time as though in pain. The
parting from Peggy was more cheerful than might have been expected, for
in a few more weeks Christmas would be at hand, when, as he himself
expressed it, he hoped to return with blushing honours thick upon him.
Peggy mentally expended her whole ten pounds in a present for the dear
handsome fellow, and held her head high in the consciousness of owning a
brother who was destined to be Commander-in-Chief of the British forces
in the years to come.
The same evening Robert returned from his visit to London. He had heard
of Peggy's escapade from his father and sister, and was by no means so
grateful as that young lady had expected.