THE CHORAL FESTIVAL.
'And with ornaments and banners,
As becomes gintale good manners,
We made the loveliest Tay room upon Shannon shore.'
_Thackeray._
'Of course, after _this_,' said Lady Price, 'Miss Underwood did not
expect to be visited.'
Otherwise the gain was great. The amusement of looking out of window
into the High Street was alone a perpetual feast to the little ones,
and saved Geraldine worlds of anxiety; and the garden where they
could be turned out to play was prized as it only could be by those
who had never had any outlet before. It was a pleasant little long
narrow nook, between the printing-house on the west, and such another
garden on the east, a like slip, with a wall masked by ivy and lilacs,
and overshadowed by a horse-chestnut meeting it on the south. It was
not smoky, and was quite quiet, save for the drone and stamp of the
steam-press; there was grass, a gum-cistus and some flower-beds in the
centre, and a gravel-walk all round, bordered by narrow edgings of
flowers, and with fruit trees against the printing-house wall, and a
Banksia and Wisteria against that of the house. Mr. Froggatt was quite
touched at the reverence with which Angela and Stella regarded even
the daisies that had eluded his perpetual spud; and when he found out
the delight it was to Cherry to live with flowers for the first time
in her life, he seldom failed to send her a bunch of violets or some
other spring beauty as soon as he arrived in the morning, and kept the
windows constantly supplied with plants.
The old bookseller was at first very much afraid of his new inmates.
To Felix he was used, but he looked on the sisters as ladies, and to
ladies except on business-terms he was much less accustomed than to
gentlemen. Besides, being a thorough gentleman himself at heart, he had
so much delicacy as to be afraid of hurting their feelings by seeming
at home in his own house; and he avoided being there at luncheon for a
whole week, until one afternoon Felix ran up to say that he was sure
Mr. Froggatt had a cold, and would be glad if a cup of tea appeared
in his parlour. Gratitude brought him in to face the enemy; and after
he had been kept at home for a day or two by the cold, his wife's
injunctions and Felix's entreaties brought him to the dinner.
It happened to be one of Wilmet's favourite economical stews; but
these were always popular in the family, though chiefly composed of
scraps, pot-liquor, rice, and vegetables; and both for its excellence
and prudence it commanded Mr. Froggatt's unqualified approbation. All
that distressed his kind heart was to see no liquor but water, except
Cherry's thimbleful of port; he could _not_ enjoy his glass of porter,
and shook his head--perhaps not without reason--when he found that
his young assistant's diet was on no more generous scale, and was not
satisfied by Felix's laughing argument that it was impossible to be
_more_ than perfectly healthy and strong. 'False economy,' said the old
man in private; but Felix was not to be persuaded into what he believed
to be an unnecessary drain on the family-finances, and was still more
stout against the hint that if Redstone discovered this prudential
abstinence, it might make him 'disagreeable.' Felix had gone his way
regardless of far too many sneers for poverty and so-called meanness to
make any concession on their account, though the veiled jealousy and
guarded insolence of that smart 'gent' the foreman had been for the
last three years the greatest thorn in his side. And at least he made
this advance, that the errand-boy cleaned the shoes!
Geraldine, though shy at first from the utter seclusion in which she
had lived, put forth a pretty bashful graciousness that perfectly
enchanted Mr. Froggatt, who was besides much touched by her patient
helplessness. He became something between her grandfather and her
knight, loading her with flowers, giving her the run of the circulating
library, and whenever it was fine enough, taking her for a mile or two
in his low basket-carriage either before or after his day's business
in the shop. It was not exactly like being with her only other friend,
Mr. Audley; but he was a thoroughly kind, polite, and by no means
unlettered old man; and Geraldine enjoyed and was grateful, while the
children were his darlings, and were encouraged to take all manner of
liberties with him.
Among the advantages of the change was the having Felix always at hand;
and though she really did not see him oftener in the course of the day
than at St. Oswald's Buildings, still the knowing him to be within
reach gave great contentment to Cherry. The only disadvantage was that
he lost his four daily walks to and fro, and hardly ever had sufficient
fresh air and exercise. He was indeed on his feet for the most of the
day, but not exerting his muscles; and all taste for the active sports
in which his kind old master begged him to join seemed to have passed
away from him when care fell upon him. He tried not to hold his head
above the young men of his adopted rank, many of whom had been his
school-fellows; but, except with the members of the choir and choral
society, he had no common ground, and there were none with whom he
could form a friendship. Thus he never had any real relaxation, except
music, and his Sunday walks, besides his evenings with his sisters
and of play with the children. It was not a natural life for a youth,
but it seemed to suit with his disposition; for though not given to
outbursts of animal spirits, he was always full of a certain strong and
supporting cheerfulness.
Indeed, though they did not like to own it to themselves, the young
people had left behind them much of the mournfulness of the widowed
household, which had borne down their youthful spirits; and though the
three elders could never be as those who had grown up without care
or grief, yet their sunshine could beam forth once more, and helped
them through the parting with their best friend. For Mr. Audley's
sister-in-law died in the beginning of June, and his father entreated
him to go abroad with his brother, so that he was hurried away directly
after midsummer, after having left his books in Felix's charge, and
provided for the reception of the dividends in his absence.
His successor was a quiet amiable young Mr. Bisset, not at all
disinclined to cultivate Felix as a link with the tradesfolk; only he
had brought with him a mother, a very nice, prim, gentle-mannered,
black-eyed lady, who viewed all damsels of small means as perilous to
her son. Had she been aware that Bexley contained anything so white
and carnation, so blue-eyed and straight-featured, so stately, and so
penniless as Wilmet Underwood, he would never have taken the Curacy.
She was a kind woman, who would have taken infinite pains to serve the
orphan girls; and she often called on them; but when the Rector's wife
had told her that such a set had been made at Mr. Audley that he could
bear it no longer, it was but a natural instinct to cherish her son's
bashfulness.
That autumn Wilmet came home elevated by the news that the head teacher
was going to retire at Christmas, and that she was to be promoted to
her place of forty pounds a year. Her successor was coming immediately
to be trained, being in fact the daughter of Miss Pearson's sister,
who had married an officer in the army. She had been dead about three
years, and the girl had been living in London with her father, now on
half pay, and had attended a day-school until he married again, and
finding his means inadequate to his expenses, and his wife and daughter
by no means comfortable together, he suddenly flitted to Jersey to
retrench, and made over his daughter of seventeen to her aunts to be
prepared for governess-ship.
This was the account Miss Pearson and Miss Maria gave to Wilmet, and
Wilmet repeated to Geraldine, who watched with some interest for the
first report of the new-comer.
'She is rather a nice-looking little thing,' was the first report, 'but
I don't know whether we shall get on together.'
The next was, 'Miss Maria has been begging me to try to draw her out.
They are quite distressed about her, she is so stiff and cold in her
ways with them, and they think she cries in her own room.'
'Poor thing, how forlorn she must be! Cannot _you_ comfort her, Mettie?'
'She will have nothing to say to me! She is civil and dry, just as she
is to them.'
'I think she can talk,' said Angela.
'How do you know anything about it, little one?' said Wilmet.
'I heard her talking away to Lizzie Bruce in the arbour at dinner-time.
Her face looked quite different then from what it does in school.'
'Then I hope she is settling down to be happier,' said Wilmet
thoughtfully; but, having watched Angela out of hearing, she added,
'Not that I think Lizzie Bruce a good friend; she is rather a weak
girl, and is flattered by Carry Price making a distinction between her
and some of the others.'
'When is Carry Price ever going to leave school?'
'When she can play Mendelssohn well enough to satisfy Mr. Bevan. I
wonder Lady Price does keep her on here; but in the meantime we can
only make the best of her.'
A day or two later, Wilmet and Angela came in from school eager,
indignant, and victorious.
'You _did_ manage it well!' the younger was saying. 'I was so glad
you saw for yourself.--Just fancy, Cherry, there were Carry Price and
Lizzie Bruce turning out all the most secret corners of Miss Knevett's
work-box, laughing at them, and asking horrid impertinent questions,
and she was almost crying.'
'And you fetched Wilmet?'
'She was sitting out in the garden, showing some of the little ones how
to do their crochet--it was the play-time after dinner--and I just went
to her and whispered in her ear, so she strolled quietly by the window.'
'Yes,' added Wilmet, 'and before I came to it, Edith was saying to Jane
Martin, on purpose for me to hear, that she thought it would be a good
thing if Miss Underwood would look into the school-room. So Angel was
not getting into a scrape.'
'I should not have minded if I had,' said Angel; 'it was such a shame,
and she looks such a dear--'
'There she was,' said Wilmet, 'her fingers shaking, and her eyes full
of tears, trying to do some work, while Carry Price went on in her
scoffing voice, laughing over all the little treasures and jewels, and
asking who gave them to her, and what they cost. All I could do was to
put my hand on her shoulder and say I saw she did not like it; and then
Lizzie Bruce looked ashamed, but Miss Price bristled up, and declared
that Miss Knevett had unlocked the box herself. Then the poor child
burst out that she had only said she would show her Maltese cross; she
had never asked them to turn everything out, and meddle with it; and
Carry tossed her head, just like my Lady, and said, "Oh, very well,
they did not want to see her trumpery, since she was so cross about
it. I suppose you mean to show the things one by one to the little
girls! A fine exhibition!" She cried out, "Exhibit! I don't mean to
exhibit at all; I only showed it to you as my friend!" Whereupon Carry
Price flounced off with, "As if I were going to make a friend of an
underteacher!" and she went into a tremendous fit of crying, like what
you used to have, Cherry, except that it was more passionate!'
'I'm sure I never had anything like that to cry for. What did you do
with her? How lucky she had you!'
'Why, when she went on sobbing, "I'll not stay here," "I won't be
insulted." "I'll tell my aunts," my great object was to get her
upstairs, and to silence her, for I was sure Miss Pearson would
dislike nothing so much as having a regular complaint from her about
Carry; and, besides that, all the girls, who pity her now, would be
turned against her, and think her a mischief-maker. I did get her up
at last, and, oh dear! what a scene we had! Poor thing, I suppose she
has been a spoilt child, going to a lady's fashionable institute, as
she calls it, where she was a great girl, and rather looked up to, for
the indulgences she got from her father--very proud, too, of being
a major's daughter. Then came the step-mother; what things she said
about her, to be sure! No end of misery, and disputes--whose fault,
I am sure I don't know; then a crisis of debts. She says it was all
Mrs. Knevett's extravagance; but Miss Pearson told me before that she
thought it had been going on a long time; and at last, when the father
and his wife and her child go off to Jersey, this poor girl is turned
over to the aunts she never saw since her mother died, twelve years
ago.'
'I dare say it is the best thing for her.'
'If she can only think so; but she fancies the being a teacher the most
horrid thing in the world.'
'Oh, Wilmet!' interrupted Angela; 'why, you like teaching: and Robin
means to be a real governess, and so do I, if I am not a Sister!'
'Me too,' called out Stella.
'But you see this unlucky girl can't understand that teaching may be
a real way of doing good; she fancies it a degradation. She says she
and her friends at her institute hated and despised the teachers, and
played all manner of tricks upon them.'
'How foolish the teachers must have been!'
'She did say something about their being low and mean. She did me the
favour to say not like me, and that she was quite shocked to find I was
one of this dreadful race. It was quite amazing to her when I told her
how Robina's dear Miss Lyveson keeps school without necessity, only
to be useful. You may imagine what it is to her to be plunged all on
a sudden into this unhappy class. She began by trying to take her old
place as an officer's daughter, and to consort with the girls; but I
think if she and Carry Price were left to one another, she would very
soon sink as low as any of the poor hounded teachers she describes.'
'She must be very silly and conceited.'
'No, I think she is sensible, and loving too, at the bottom,' said
Wilmet, 'only every one is strange here: I think she will understand
better soon; and in the meantime, she has quite forgiven me for being
a teacher. She clung about me, and called me all sorts of pretty
names--her only friend, and so forth.'
'Perhaps she can forgive you for being a teacher, in consideration of
your being a twin,' said Cherry.
'There, Cherry, you understand her better already than I do! I'll bring
her to you, I have not time for such a friendship.'
'Poor thing! I should like to try to comfort her, if she is strange and
dreary; but I think she must be rather a goose. What's her name?'
'Alice; but in school Miss Pearson is very particular about having her
called Miss Knevett. We have exchanged Christian names in private, of
course.'
'You horrid old prosy thing of four U's,' said Geraldine. 'You are
sitting up there, you great fair creature, you, for the poor child to
worship and adore, and not reciprocating a bit!'
'Of course,' said Wilmet, 'if she can't be happy without being petted,
I must pet her, and let her be nonsensical about me; but I think it is
all great stuff, and that you will suit her much better than I ever
shall.'
'Do you never mean to have a friend, Mettie?'
'Oh no, I haven't time; besides, I've got Alda.'
Geraldine had, however, many dreams about the charms of friendship. She
read of it in the books that Felix selected for her; and Robina had
a vehement affection for a schoolfellow whose hair and whose _carte_
she treasured, and to whom she would have written daily during the
holidays but for the cost of stamps. The equality and freedom of the
letters she received always made Cherry long for the like. Since Edgar
had left her, she had never been on those equal terms with any one;
Wilmet was more like mother or aunt than sister; and though Felix had
a certain air of confidence and ease when with her, and made her his
chief playfellow, he could not meet all her tastes or all her needs;
and there was a sort of craving within her for intimacy with a creature
of her own species.
And though Wilmet's description of Alice Knevett did not sound
particularly wise, Cherry, in her humility, deemed her the more secure
of being on her own level, not so sensible and intolerant of little
dreams, fancies, and delusions as those two sensible people, the twin
sisters. So she watched impatiently for the introduction; and at last
Wilmet said, 'Well, she is coming to tea to-morrow evening. Little
ridiculous chit, she bridled and doubted, but as you were an invalid,
she supposed she might, only it was not what she had been used to, and
Papa "might object."'
'What? To the shop? Well, I really think she had better not come! I'll
have nobody here that thinks it a favour, and looks down on Felix.'
'My dear, if she contrives to look down on Felix after she has seen
him, she will deserve anything you please. Just now, I believe the
foolishness is in her school, and not in herself.'
Nevertheless, Geraldine's eagerness underwent a great revulsion.
Instead of looking forward to the visit, she expected it with dread,
and dislike to the pert, conceited, flippant Londoner, who despised her
noble brother, and aspired to the notice of Carry Price. Her nervous
shrinking from strangers--the effect of her secluded life--increased on
her every moment of that dull wet afternoon; her feet grew cold, her
cheeks hot, and she could hardly find temper or patience for the many
appeals of Bernard and Stella for her attention.
Her foolish little heart was palpitating as if a house-breaker were
entering instead of Wilmet, conducting a dainty cloud of fresh lilac
muslin, out of which appeared a shining black head, and a smiling
sparkling face, with so much life and play about the mouth and eyes
that there was no studying their form or colour, and it was only after
a certain effort that it could be realised that Alice Knevett was a
glowing brunette, with a saucy little nose, _retroussé_, though very
pretty, a tiny mouth full of small pearls, and eyes of black diamond.
In spite of her gracious manner, and evident consciousness of her own
condescension, the winsomeness of the dancing eyes fascinated Cherry at
once. Indeed, the simplicity and transparency of her little dignities
disarmed all displeasure, they were so childish; and they vanished in a
moment in a game at play with Bernard and Stella. When Wilmet brought
out Geraldine's portfolio, her admiration was enthusiastic if not
critical.
A sketch of Wilmet and Alda enchanted her; she had never seen anything
so lovely or so well done.
'No, no,' said Cherry, rather shocked, 'you must have seen the Royal
Academy.'
'Oh, but I am sure this ought to be in the Royal Academy; I never saw
anything there that I liked half so much. How clever you must be!'
Cherry could not but laugh at the extravagant compliment. 'My brother
Edgar draws much better than that,' she said, producing a capital
water-colour of a group of Flemish market-women.
'I shall always like yours best. Oh! and what is this?'
'I did not know it was there,' said Cherry, colouring, and trying to
take it away.
'Oh, let me look. What! Is it a storm, or a regatta, or fishing boats?
What is that odd light? What is written under? "The waves of this
troublesome world." Why, that is in the Bible, is not it?'
'Thirteen boats, Cherry,' said Wilmet; 'is that a device of your own?'
'What, not copied? Oh dear! I wish I was so clever!'
'It is the sea of this life, isn't it?' said Angela, coming up. 'Is it
ourselves, Cherry, all making for the golden light of Heaven, and the
star of faith guiding them?'
'She reads it like a book,' exclaimed Alice. 'And those two close
together--that means love, I suppose!'
'Love and help, the weak and the strong,' said Geraldine, in her
earnest dreamy voice.
'Do pray make a picture of my boat on a nice smooth sea of light; I
don't like rocks and breakers, such as you have done there.'
'There always must be a last long wave,' said Cherry.
'Oh, but don't let us think about horrid things. I like the summer sea.
Aren't there some verses--
'"Youth at the prow, and pleasure at the helm?"'
'That would not be a pleasant augury,' said Cherry. 'Do you know what
this is meant for, bad as it is? Longfellow's verses--'
'The phantom host that beleaguered the walls of Prague? How can you
draw such things?'
'So I say,' observed Wilmet.
'They come and haunt me, and I feel as if I must.'
'Who is this kneeling on the wall? He looks like a knight watching his
armour.'
'So he is,' said Cherry.
'But there is nothing about him in the poem. Did you make him for
yourself?'
'Why, he is Ferdinand Travis!' exclaimed Wilmet.
'What, is it a real man? I thought it was somebody in a story.'
'I see!' said Angela quietly. 'He is watching his armour the night
before he was baptized.'
For the child had never forgotten the adult baptism, though she had
been little more than four years old at the time; but she was one of
those little ones to whom allegory seems a natural element, with which
they have more affinity than with the material world.
However, the mention of Ferdinand Travis led to the history of the fire
at the hotel, and of his recovery; Alice declared that 'everything
nice' seemed to happen at Bexley, and was laughed at for her peculiar
ideas of niceness; but there was something in the feminine prattle
that was wonderfully new and charming to Geraldine, while, on the
other hand, the visitor was conscious of a stimulus and charm that she
had never previously experienced; and the eager tongues never flagged
till Felix came in. He had evidently taken pains with his toilette,
in honour of the unusual event; and the measured grave politeness of
his manners renewed Alice's scared punctilious dignity of demeanour,
and entire consciousness that she was a major's daughter and he a
bookseller.
But Felix had brought in some exciting Eastern news; and Alice put on
an _air capable_, as one connected with India and the army, but she
soon found out the deficiency of her geography, and was grateful for
the full clear explanations, while her _amour propre_ was gratified
by finding that her familiarity with a few Indian terms was valuable.
Before the end of the evening all were at ease, and she was singing
with Felix and Wilmet at the old piano.
No sooner had the door shut on her when the maid came to fetch her,
than a storm fell on Wilmet.
'So that's what you call rather nice-looking?'
'Well, she is under-sized and very brown, but I did think you would
have allowed that she was rather pretty.'
'Rather!' exclaimed Cherry indignantly.
'That's what it is to be a handsome woman!' said Felix.
'Do you mean to say that you think her anything remarkable?' said
Wilmet.
'Say no more, my dear W. W.,' laughed Felix. 'I never understood
before why negroes don't admire white people.'
'I am sure I don't know what you are talking about,' said Wilmet,
betaking herself to her darning with great good-humour. 'Alice Knevett
is prettier than I thought she was when she was all tears and airs; but
I can't see any remarkable beauty to rave about.'
'No, _you_ can't,' said Geraldine merrily. 'You look much too high over
her head, but you see I don't; and such a little sparkling diamond
beetle is a real treat to me.'
And Geraldine often enjoyed the treat.
In a very short time the green door and steep stairs were as familiar
to Alice as to the Underwoods themselves; for her aunts were thankful
to have her happy and safe, and she was rapturously fond of Geraldine,
reflecting and responding to most of her sentiments. Most of the
Underwoods had the faculty of imprinting themselves upon the characters
of their friends, by taking it for granted that they felt alike; and
Alice Knevett had not spent six weeks at Bexley before she had come
to think it incredible that she had thought either teaching or the
Underwoods beneath her. She was taking pains to do her work well,
and enjoying it, and was being moulded into a capital subordinate
to Wilmet; while with Geraldine she read and talked over her books,
obtained illustrations for the poetry she wrote out in her album,
and brought in a wholesome air of chatter, which made Cherry much
more girl-like than she had ever been before. It was an importation
of something external, something lively and interesting, which was
very refreshing to all; and even Felix, in his grave politeness and
attention to his sister's friend, manifested that so far from being in
his way, as they had feared, he found her a very agreeable element when
she joined the home party or the Sunday walk.
Indeed, there was a certain tendency to expansion about the life of the
young people; the pinch of poverty was less griping than previously,
and their natural spirits rose. In January Lance was allowed to bring
his friend Harewood to a concert of the choral society; and on the
following evening Alice Knevett came to tea, and there was a series of
wonderful charades, chiefly got up by Clement and Robina, and of comic
songs by Lance and Bill Harewood--all with such success, that Alice
declared that she had never seen anything so delightful in all her
experience of London Christmases!
The young people really seemed to have recovered elasticity enough that
year to think of modest treats and holidays as they had never ventured
to do since that memorable sixteenth birth-day of Felix's. Here was
his twenty-first not very far off; and when it was announced that this
identical 3rd of July had been fixed on for a grand choral meeting
at the Cathedral, at which the choir of Bexley was to assist, there
was such a spirit of enterprise abroad in the family, that Geraldine
suggested that Wilmet might take Robina to see the Cathedral and hear
Lance.
'Lance will be just what will not be heard,' said Felix. 'They will
not show off their solos; but the Robin ought to have the pleasure, if
possible; and as I go in two capacities, press and choir, I hope we can
manage it for her.'
He came in full early for the evening. 'All right,' he said. 'Two
tickets are come for the Pursuivant, and Mr. Froggatt says he would not
go at any price; and besides, each of the choir may take a friend--so
that's three.'
'Am I to be reporter or friend?' asked Wilmet.
'Reporter, I think, for you will have to do audience.'
'Nay, Cherry ought to be the gentleman connected with the press,' said
Wilmet, for in fact Geraldine did sometimes do copying and correcting
work for her brother; 'and, indeed, I do not see why she should not. We
could go home directly after morning service, and leave you there.'
'Oh no, impossible,' said Geraldine, 'it would never do; it would only
spoil everybody's pleasure, and be too much for me.'
'I think you are wise,' said Felix; and somehow it struck her with a
prick that he had rather the proposal had not been made. 'There is sure
to be a great crush, and I may be obliged to be with the choir.'
'I am quite able to take care of her, I can always lift her,' said
Wilmet, surprised.
'I would not go on any account,' protested Cherry. 'I should be like
the old woman in that Servian proverb, who paid five dollars to go to
the fair, and would have paid ten to be safe at home again.'
'There might be no getting a bench fit for you to sit upon,' added
Felix, who, as a gentleman of the press, was not devoid of experience.
'I could not be easy about you, my dear; it is much safer not.'
'Perhaps so,' owned Wilmet, disappointed; 'but Angel is too little for
such a long day, and Cherry is so much stronger, that I thought--'
'Oh, but could not Alice Knevett go?' put in Cherry.
'A very good suggestion,' said Felix. 'She hardly ever has any
amusements. Well thought of, White-heart!'
I believe he thought of it from the first, felt Geraldine, angry with
herself that this conviction gave a prick like the point of a needle.
She threw her energies into the scheme, and was begging Wilmet to go
and make the proposal, when there was a sudden peal of the bell, a
headlong trampling rush, a dash open of the door--Theodore began to hum
the anthem 'How beautiful,' the other three small ones hailed 'Lance'
at the top of their voices, and his arms were round the neck of the
first sister who came in his way.
'What, Lance! how came you here?'
'Our organ is tuning up its pipes--man comes to-morrow--Prayers in the
Lady Chapel and not choral, and it's a holiday at school, so I got
off by the 5.20, and need not go back till the 6.10 to-morrow. We are
practising our throats out to lead you all on the 3rd. You know you are
coming, the whole kit of you.'
'Do we?' said Wilmet. 'It is only for the last ten minutes that we have
known that any of us were coming.'
'All right; that's what I'm come about. Robina must be got home.'
'She will be come. She comes on the 1st.'
'That's right; then there's to be a great spread in Bishop's Meads
between services. Everybody sends provisions, and asks their friends;
but Cherry is to go and rest at the Harewoods'. The governor will get
her in through the library into the north transept as quiet as a lamb,
no squash at all. It is only along the cloister--a hop, step, and jump;
and Miles has promised me the snuggest little seat for her. Then the
Harewood sofa--'
'It is too much, Lance,' began Cherry. 'Mrs. Harewood--'
'Don't be absurd; she wishes it with all her heart. She won't want a
ticket if Mr. Harewood smuggles her in, but I can get as many as you
want. How many--Wilmet, Cherry, Robin, Angel, and Miss Knevett. She'll
come, won't she?'
'We were thinking of going to ask her.'
'I'll do it; I've brought my own ticket for a friend for her; here it
is, with L. O. U. in the corner. I'll run down with it before any one
else cuts in.'
'Hold hard,' said Felix; 'we shall not get her if you set about it in
that wild way!'
'Oh, but I'll promise Wilmet shall take her in tow, and if anything
will pacify the old girls, that will.'
'You had better let me come with you,' said Wilmet.
'Look sharp then. Is it a practising night? Yes, that's well; Miles is
in a state of mind at the short notice, and has crammed me choke-full
of messages; he says it will save his coming down; come along, then, W.
W., and soft-sawder the venerable aunts.'
No more of this operation was necessary than the assurance that
Miss Underwood was going, and that Mrs. Harewood would be a sort of
chaperon. Alice Knevett was happy and grateful; and if anything were
wanting to the universal enthusiasm of anticipation, it was supplied
by Lance. The boy, with his musical talent, thorough trustworthiness
and frank joyous manners, was a favourite with the organist, and was
well versed in the programme; and his eagerness, and fulness of detail,
were enough to infect every one. Geraldine thought it was great proof
of his unspoilableness, that he took quite as much pleasure in bringing
them to these services, where he would be but a unit in the hundreds,
as if it had been one of the anthems, of which every one said, 'Have
you heard little Underwood?' In the charm of the general welcome
and the congratulation on Lance's arrangement, Geraldine had quite
forgotten both her alarms and her tiny pang of surprise at not having
been Felix's prime thought. Lance, by dint of a judicious mixture of
hectoring and coaxing, obtained leave for Angela to be of the party,
though against Wilmet's judgment; and Bernard and Stella were to spend
the day with Mrs. Froggatt, which they regarded as an expedition quite
as magnificent as that to St. Mary's Minster.
Mr. Froggatt was almost as eager about this pleasure for 'his young
people,' as he called them, as they could be. He came in early to drive
Geraldine to the station, and looked with grandfatherly complacency at
the four sisters, who had ventured on the extravagance of white piqué
and black ribbons, and in their freshness looked as well-dressed as any
lady in the land.
He entertained Cherry all the way with his admiration of Wilmet's
beauty and industry, and when arrived at the station, waited there with
her till first the three girls came up with Alice Knevett, white with
pink ribbons, and then the choir arrived, marching with the banner
with the rood of St. Oswald before them, each with a blue satin bow
in his button-hole, and the bag with his surplice under his arm, the
organist, the schoolmaster, and the two curates, bringing up the rear.
Mr. Bevan, my Lady, and Miss Price, whirled up in the carriage, the
omnibus discharged the friends of the choir, and two waggon loads of
musical talent from the villages came lumbering and cheering in! The
very train roared and shrieked in with a sound of cheering from its
vertebræ, and banners were projecting from the windows, amid nodding
heads and waving handkerchiefs of all colours; the porters ran about
distracted; and Geraldine began to be alarmed, and to think of the old
woman of Servia, but behold, Felix had her on one side, Mr. Froggatt on
the other, a solid guard held open the door, and protected her from the
rush, and before she well knew what they were doing with her, she was
lying on the seat of the carriage, with her sisters and Alice all in a
row in front of her; the recently crowded platform was empty of all but
a stray porter, the stationmaster, and Mr. Froggatt kissing his hand,
and promising to come and fetch her on her return.
The train seemed hardly to have attained its full speed before it
slackened again, and another merry load was disposed of within its
joints. Another start, another arrival; and before the motion was over,
a flash of sunny looks had glanced before the sisters' eyes. There was
Lance, perfectly radiant, under his square trencher cap--hair, eyes,
cheeks, blue bow, boots, and all, seeming to sparkle with delight as he
snatched open the door. 'Hurrah! there they are. Give her out to me,
Wilmet!' (as if she had been a parcel).
'Stay, wait for Felix. You can't---'
Felix rushed up from his colleagues of the choir, and Geraldine was set
on her foot and crutch. 'Come along! I've got Ball's chair for you, and
Bill Harewood is sitting in it for fear any one should bone it. Where's
your ticket?'
'Lance, take care! Don't take her faster than she can go!' as he
whisked her over the platform; and Wilmet was impeded by the seeking
for Alice's parasol and Angela's cloak. They were quite out of sight
when Lance had dragged Cherry through the crowd at the door, and
brought her to the wheeled chair just in time to find Bill Harewood
glaring out of it like the red planet Mars, and asseverating that he
_was_ the lame young lady it was hired for.
In went Geraldine, imploring to wait for Wilmet, but all in vain; off
went the chair, owner and escort alike in haste, and she was swept
along, with Lance and Will with a hand holding either side of the
chair, imparting breathless scraps of information, and exchanging
remarks: 'There goes the Archdeacon.' 'The Thorpe choir is not come,
and Miles is mad about it.' 'That's the Town Hall.' 'There's where Jack
licked a cad for bullying.' 'There's a cannon-ball of Oliver Cromwell's
sticking out of that wall.' 'That's the only shop fit to get gingerbeer
at!' 'That old horse in that cab was in the Crimea.' 'We come last in
the procession, and if you see a fellow like a sheep in spectacles,
that's Shapcote.' 'Hurrah! what a stunning lot! where is it from?'
'Bembury? My eyes, if that big fellow doesn't mean to bawl us all down.
Down that way--that's the palace. Whose carriage is it stopping there?
Now, here's the Close.'
'Is that the Cathedral? Oh!'
'You may well say so! No, not that way.' And on rattled poor amazed
Geraldine through an archway, under some lime trees, round a corner,
round another corner, to another arched doorway, with big doors studded
with nails, with a little door for use cut out of one of the big ones.
'You must get out here,' said Lance, 'we are close by,' and he helped
her out, and paid and thanked the man with the chair. 'Here's our
domain,' he continued, as he introduced Cherry through the open doorway
into a small flagged court, with two houses, grey and old-fashioned,
forming one side, and on the other an equally old long low building
with narrow latticed arched windows. Opposite to the entrance was a
handsome buttressed Gothic-looking edifice, behind which rose the gable
of the north transept of the Cathedral, beautiful with a rose window,
and farther back, far, far above, the noble tower.
Already everything was very wonderful to Geraldine. 'That's our
kennel,' said Lance, pointing to the low buildings to the right.
'School's behind; but we boarders are put up in one of the old monks'
dormitories, between court and cloister.'
'Is it really?' exclaimed Geraldine.
'So my father says,' said Will. 'Here's our door.' Another stone-arched
passage, almost dark, with doors opening on either side, seemed common
to both houses; and Will was inviting them to enter, but Lance held
back. 'No time,' he said; 'better call your father.'
'The others,' sighed Geraldine.
'Bother the others! That's right: here he is!'
'Halloo, Father!' cried Will; 'we've got Cherry.'
'By which unceremonious designation I imagine you to mean to introduce
Miss Underwood,' said a figure, appearing from beneath the archway,
in trencher cap, surplice, and hood, with white hair, and a sort
of precision and blandness that did not at all agree with Cherry's
preconceived notions of the Harewood household. 'I am very glad to
see you. My ladies, as usual, are unready. Will you have a glass of
wine? No?--What do you say, Lancelot?--Very well, we will take you in
at once. You will not object to waiting there, and this is the quiet
time.--Boys, you ought to be with the choir.'
'Oceans of time, Dad,' coolly answered Will; 'none of the fellows up
there are under weigh.'
Mr. Harewood offered his arm, but perceived that Cherry preferred Lance
and her crutch; advancing to the door opposite that by which they had
entered, he unlocked it, and Geraldine found herself passing through a
beauteous old lofty chamber, with a groined Tudor roof, all fans, and
pendants, and shields; tall windows stained with armorial bearings,
parchment charters and blazoned genealogies against the walls, and
screens upon screens loaded with tomes of all ages, writing-tables and
chairs here and there, and glass-topped tables containing illuminations
and seals. 'Here is my paradise,' said the librarian, smiling.
'I think it must be,' said Geraldine, with a long breath of wonder and
admiration.
'Ah! would you not like to have a good look, Cherry?' said Lance.
'That's Richard Coeur de Lion's seal in there.'
'Don't begin about it--don't set him on,' whispered Willie, with a
sign of his head towards his father, who was fitting the key into the
opposite door, 'or we shall all stay here for the rest of the day.'
This low door open, Mr. Harewood and the boys bared their heads as they
entered, and Geraldine felt the strange solemn sensation of finding
herself in a building of vast height and majesty, full of a wonderful
stillness, as though the confusion of sounds she had been in so
recently were far, far off.
'Where now, Lancelot?' asked Mr. Harewood, in a hushed voice; 'do you
want me any further?'
'No, thank you, sir; I'll just take her across the choir to Mr. Miles,
and then join the rest of us at the vestry.'
'Good-bye for the present, then,' said Mr. Harewood kindly. 'You are in
safe hands. Your brother comes round every one. _I_ could not do this.'
Through the side-screen, into the grandly beautiful choir, arching high
above, with stall-work and graceful canopies below, and rich glass
casting down beams of coloured light--all for 'glory and for beauty,'
thought Geraldine.
'You must not stop; you must look when you are settled. That's my
side,' pointing to one of the choristers' desks. 'It will be only we
that sing in here; the congregation is in the nave--a perfect sea
of chairs. I'll come for you when it is over. Here is Mr. Miles. My
sister, sir.'
A pale gentleman in spectacles, with a surplice and beautiful blue
hood, was here addressed. He too greeted Geraldine, very shyly but
kindly, and she found herself expected to ascend some alarming-looking
stone steps. The organ was on the choir-screen, and to the organist's
little private gallery was she to ascend. It was a difficult matter,
and she had in her trepidation despairingly recognised the difference
between Lance's good will and Felix's practised strength; but at last
she was landed in an admirable little cushioned nook, hidden by two
tall painted carved canopies--exactly over the Dean's head, her brother
told her--and where, as she sat sideways, she could see through the
quatrefoils into the choir on the right hand, and the nave on the left.
'Delightful! Oh, thank you; how kind! If I am only not keeping any one
out.'
'No,' said Lance, smiling, and whispering lower than ever, 'he has no
one belonging to him. He hates women. Never a petticoat was here before
in his reign. Have you a book?'
'They are robing, Underwood,' said the misogynist in the organ-loft;
and Lance hurried away, leaving Geraldine alone, palpitating a good
deal, but almost enjoying the solitude, in the vast structure, where
the sanctity of a thousand years of worship seemed to fill the very
air, as she gazed at the white vaultings and bosses carved with emblems
above, at the vista of clustered columns terminating in the great
jewelled west window, or at the crown-like loveliness that encompassed
the sanctuary. All was still, except a deep low tone of the organ now
and then. Mr. Miles looked in after the first, to hope she did not
_feel_ it uncomfortably, and to assure her that though she was too near
his organ, she need not fear its putting forth its full powers; it
was to be kept in subordination, and only guide the voices. This was
great attention from a woman-hater, and Geraldine ventured to reiterate
her thanks; at which he smiled, and said, 'When one has such a boy as
your brother, there is pleasure in doing anything he wishes. You are
musical?'
'I never was able to learn to play.'
'But you can read music?'
'Oh yes,' for she had often copied it.
So he brought her whole sheets of music, and put her in the way of
following and understanding, perceiving, as he went, that she was full
of intelligence and perception.
When he went back to his post, a few groups, looking very small, were
creeping in by transept doors--by favour, like herself: then a little
white figure flitted across to the desks, opened and marked the books,
took up something, and disappeared; and in another moment Lance, in his
broad white folds, was at her side. 'Here's the music. Oh, you have it!
I've seen Fee,' he whispered; 'they are at Mrs. Harewood's, all right!'
and he was gone.
Here she sat, her attention divided between the sacred impressions of
the place, its exceeding beauty, and the advance of the multitude into
the nave, as the doors were open, and they surged up the space left in
the central aisle, and occupied the ranks of chairs prepared for them.
Then came a long pause; she scanned each row in search of her sisters,
and only was confused by the host of heads; felt lost and lonely, and
turned her eyes and mind to the silent grandeur to the east, rather
than the throng to the west.
At last there came the sweet floating sound of the chant, growing in
power like the ocean swell as it approached, and the first bright
banner appeared beneath the lofty pointed archway; and the double white
file came flowing on like a snowy glacier, the chant becoming clear
and high as the singers of each parish marched along to their places,
each ranked under a bright banner with the symbol of their church's
dedication. St. Oswald's rood helped Geraldine to make out that of
Bexley better than their faces, though she did make out her eldest
brother's fair face, and trace him to his seat. The cathedral singers
came at last, and that kenspeckle red head of Will Harewood's directed
her to the less conspicuous locks belonging to Lance, whose own clear
thrush-like note she could catch as he passed beneath the screen. Then
came the long train of parish clergy, the canons, the Dean, and lastly
the Bishop, the sight of whom recalled so much.
The unsurpliced contribution had meantime been ushered in by the side
doors, and filled seats in the rear of the others, so as to add their
voices without marring the general effect--the perfection of which
Geraldine enjoyed--of the white-robed multitude that seemed to fill the
whole chancel.
The sight seemed to inspire her whole soul with a strange yearning joy,
as though she were beholding a faint earthly reflex of the great vision
of the Beloved Disciple; and far more was it so at the sound, which
realised in a measure the words, 'As the voice of mighty waters, and as
the voice of thunder.'
These were the very words that had been selected for the Second Lesson,
and the First consisted of those verses in which we hear of David's
commencement of the continual chant of psalms at the sanctuary; and
both, unwonted as they were, gave a wonderful thrill to the audience,
as though opening to them a new comprehension of their office as
singers of the sanctuary.
There is no need to dwell on the wonderful and touching exhilaration
derived from the harmony of vast numbers with one voice attuned to
praise. It is a sensation which is so nearly a foretaste of eternity,
that participation alone can give the most distant perception thereof.
To the entirely unprepared and highly sensitive Geraldine it was most
overpowering, all the more because she was entirely out of sight, and
without power of taking part by either gesture or posture--she was
passive and had no vent for her emotion.
Lance, who made his way to her round through the transept the moment
he had disrobed, found her pale, panting, tearful, and trembling, with
burning cheeks, so that his exaltation turned to alarm. 'Are you done
up, Cherry? It is too hot up here? I'll try to find Felix or Wilmet,
which?'
'Neither! I am quite well, only--O Lance, I did not know anything could
be so heavenly. There seemed to be the sweeping of angels' wings all
round and over me, and Papa's voice quite clear.'
'I know,' said Lance; 'it always does come in that Te Deum.'
The sister and brother were silent, not yet able for the critical
discussion of single points; only, as he put his arm round her to help
her to rise, she said, with a sigh, 'O Lance, it is a great thing to
be one of them! Thank you. I think this is the greatest day of all my
life.'
The getting her down, what with Lance's inexperience and want of
height and strength, was anxious work; and just as it had been safely
accomplished, the rest of their party were seen roaming the aisle in
distress and perplexity. Geraldine was very glad of Felix's substantial
arm, but she had rather he had omitted that rebuke for venturesomeness
in dealing with her, which would have affronted Fulbert, but never
seemed to trouble Lance, who was only triumphant in his success; and
her perfect contentment charmed away the vexation which really arose
from a slight sense of having neglected her.
The others had been perfectly happy in their several ways, and made
eager comments on their way to the house of Harewood, whither Lance
piloted them--this time by the front way, through the garden, which
lay behind the close--entering, in spite of the mannerly demurs of the
elder ones, through the open door, into a hall whence a voice of hearty
greeting at once ensued. 'Here you are at last; and how's the poor
darling your sister? not over-tired?'
And Cherry, before she was aware, found herself kissed, and almost
snatched away from Felix, to be deposited on a sofa; and while the like
kisses were bestowed on the two little girls, and hospitable offers
showered on all, she was amused by perceiving that good Mrs. Harewood
was endowed with exactly the same grotesque order of ugliness as her
son William; but she was even more engaging, from an indescribably
droll mixture of heedlessness, blundering, and tender motherliness.
'There, now, you'll just leave her to me, the poor dear; and Lance will
take you down to the Mead, and find Papa and the girls for you.'
'Oh, thank you, I could not think of your staying. Now pray--'
'Now prays' were to no purpose; Mrs. Harewood professed only to want an
excuse for staying at home--she did not want to be done up with running
after her girls to the four ends of the Mead, when it was a long step
for her to begin with. Off with them.
So when Wilmet was satisfied that Geraldine was comfortable, the five
moved off--Felix and Alice, Angel in Wilmet's hand, and Lance's and
Robina's tongues wagging so fast that the wonder was how either caught
a word of what the other was saying.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Harewood, tossing her bonnet and gloves aside, in
perfect indifference to the exposure of the curious structure of
red and grey hair she thus revealed, lavished meats and drinks upon
her guest, waiting on her with such kindness, that in spite of all
weariness and craving for quiet after these deep and wonderful
impressions, it was impossible not to enjoy that warmth of heart.
There was exactly the tender motherliness that even Wilmet and Sister
Constance could not give.
It was charming to hear how fond Mrs. Harewood was of Lance, and how
the having such a companion had made it possible to keep her Willie
at the cathedral school, where the mixture of lads was great, but the
master first-rate. He thought highly of the promise of both; 'but, to
tell the truth,' said Mrs. Harewood, as she sat and fanned herself with
her husband's trencher cap, looking more than ever like a frog in a
strawberry bed, 'though my Willie is the cleverest boy in the school,
little good his cleverness would have done him, and he would have been
harum-scarum Bill more than ever, if it were not for Lance. So say his
father and brother Jack; so that they will not be for his going to a
public school unless Lance were sure of it too.'
'Will not they be able to stay on here?'
Mrs. Harewood explained that the year that the barristers--choristers
she meant--were sixteen, when their voices were usually unserviceable,
they, together with those of like age in the school, were subjected to
an examination, and the foremost scholar obtained an exhibition, in
virtue of which he could remain free of expense for another two years,
and then could try for one of the Minsterham scholarships at one of the
colleges at Cambridge. Those who failed, either had to pay like the
ordinary schoolboys, or left the school.
Dear Mrs. Harewood was a perfect Malaprop, and puzzled Geraldine by
continually calling the present occasion the rural meeting, and other
like slips, uncommonly comical in a well-educated woman with the words
she knew best.
All this, and a great deal more--about the shy woman-hating organist,
and the unluckiness of the dissenter--no, precentor--having a sick
wife, and the legal difficulties that prevented building a better house
for the boarders than the queer long room where they lodged, between
the cloister and the Bailey--the proper name of the little court by
which Geraldine had come--was poured out; and kind as it was, there was
a certain sense of having been talked to death.
A whole flood of Harewoods, Underwoods, and untold numbers besides,
swept into the room as the bell began to ring for Evensong. Most
sincere were Cherry's entreaties that she might be left alone. She
could not go back to her coign of vantage, 'it had been too beautiful
for her to bear more,' she said; and she severally declined offers of
companionship from three female Harewoods and two sisters, telling
Wilmet at last that all she wanted was to be still and alone.
Alone she was, but not still, for there was nothing to hinder the
magnificent volume of sound that surged around the Cathedral from
coming to her; and she could trace the service all along--in chant,
pealing mighty Amens, with the hush between, in anthem, and in jubilant
hymn. She was more calmly happy than in the oppressive grandeur of the
morning, as she lay there, in the cool drawing-room, with the open
window veiled by loose sprays of untrimmed roses, and sacred prints
looking down from the walls.
The solitude lasted rather too long, when she had heard the hum and
buzz of the host pouring out of the Cathedral, and still no one came.
They were to go home by the 5.10 train, and every time she counted the
chimes she became more alarmed lest they should be too late. Minutes
dragged on. Five! It was five! Was she forgotten? Should she be only
missed and remembered at the station, too late? Tired, nervous, unused
to oblivion, she found tears in her eyes, and was too sorrowful and
angry with her own impatience even to think of the old woman of Servia.
Hark! a trampling? Had they remembered her? But oh, it would be late
for the train!
In burst Lance, in his cap and little short quaint black gown.
'O Lance, I shall be too late!'
'You don't go by this train.'
'Oh dear! oh dear! Mr. Froggatt was to meet me;' and the tears started
from her eyes. 'How could Felix forget?'
'Never mind, there's sure to be a fly or something.'
'Yes, but Mr. Froggatt waiting!'
'Never mind,' repeated Lance, ''tis a fine evening to air the old boss.'
'Don't, Lance; you none of you have any proper regard for Mr.
Froggatt;' which, as far as Lance was concerned, was unjust, and it was
well for Cherry that it was not addressed to either of the brothers who
better deserved it.
What Lance did was to execute one of his peculiar summersaults, and
then, making up a dismal face, to say, 'Alas! I commiserate the
venerable citizen disappointed of the pleasure of driving my Lady
Geraldine home from the wash as well as hisself.'
She was past even appreciating the bathos. 'It is no laughing matter,'
she said; 'it is so uncivil, when he is so kind. I can't imagine what
Felix is thinking of?'
'Croquet,' said Lance briefly; then seeing the flushed, quivering,
mortified face, he added, 'Wilmet has not forgotten you one bit,
Cherry; but Alice Knevett and Robin did so want to see the fun in the
mead--there's running in sacks, and all sorts of games--that there's no
getting any one away; and the W's are in charge, and can't leave them
to their own devices, so she said perhaps you would be more rested by
lying still than rattling home.'
'Oh, I dare say Wilmet is as sorry as anybody,' said Cherry rather
querulously, for the needle point was pricking her again.
'And as to your dear old Froggy,' continued Lance, 'she says he told
her he did not in the least expect you back by this train, and if you
did not come by it, he'll stay in town for the 8.50.'
'How very good of him!' said Cherry, beginning to be consoled. 'And
Felix at croquet!'
'Alice is teaching him. You never did see such a joke as old
Blunderbore screwing up his eyes at the balls, and making at them with
his mallet like a sledge-hammer. He and Alice and Robin and that Bisset
curate are playing against Bill, two of the girls, and Shapcote--Bexley
against Minsterham; and little Bobbie's a real out-and-outer. She'll
make her side win by sheer cool generalship.'
'And poor little Angel?' The needle point was a pang now.
'Oh, Angel is happier than ever she was in her life. The Bishop's
daughter has a turn for little kids, and has got all the small ones
together in the pleached alley, playing at all manner of things.'
'Run back, Lance, to the fun. I shall do very well,' said poor
Geraldine.
'I should think so, when I get you so often!' scornfully ejaculated
Lancelot, drawing a dilapidated brioche from under the sofa, and
squatting on it, with his dancing eyes close to her sad ones.
An effusion of spirits prompted her to lay her hands on his shoulders,
kiss him on each cheek, and cry, 'O Lance, you are the very sweetest
boy!'
'Sweetest treble, you mean,' said Lance quaintly; 'if you had only
heard me! You should see how the old ladies in the stalls peep and
whisper, and how Bill Harewood opens his mouth rather wider than it
will go, and they think it is he.'
'Not for fun, Lance?'
'Well, I believe all their jaws are hung on looser than other people's.
But I say, ain't you dying of thirst?'
'Perhaps Mrs. Harewood will give us some tea when she comes in.'
'If you trust to that--'
'O Lance!' she cried, alarmed at seeing him coolly ring the bell.
'Bless you, she's forgotten all about you and tea and everything! They
are drinking it by the gallon in the tents; and by and by she'll roll
in, ready to cry that you've had none, and mad with herself and me for
giving you none; and the fire will be out, and the kettle will boil
about ten minutes after you are off by the train. We'll have some this
minute.'
'But, Lance--'
'But, Cherry, ain't I a walking Sahara with roaring at the tip-top of
my voice to lead the clod-hoppers? How they did bellow! I owe it as a
duty to the Chapter to wet my whistle.'
'One comfort is, nobody knows your coolness. Nobody comes for all your
ringing.'
'Reason good! Every living soul in the house is in the Bishop's meadow,
barring the old cat; I _seen_ 'em with their cap-strings flying. But
that's nothing. I know where Mother Harewood keeps her tea and sugar;'
and he pounced on a tea-caddy of Indian aspect.
'Lance, if you did that to Mettie--'
'Exactly so. I don't;' and he ran out of the room, while Cherry sat
up on her sofa, her petulance quite banished between amusement and
desperation at such proceedings in a strange house. He came back
presently, with two cups, saucers, and plates, apparently picked up at
hap-hazard, as no two were alike. 'My dear Lance, where have you been?'
'In the kitchen. Such a jolly arched old hole. Bill and I have done no
end of Welsh rabbits there. Once when we were melting some lead, Bill
let it drop into the pudding, and the Pater got it at dinner, and said
it was the heaviest morsel he ever had to digest.'
'But wasn't it poison?'
'I suppose not, for you see he isn't dead. Another time, when we were
melting glue, we upset a whole lot of fat, and the chimney caught fire;
and wasn't that a go? Bill got a pistol out of Jack's room, and fired
it up the chimney to bring the soot down; and down it came with a
vengeance! He was regularly singed, and I do think the place would have
been burned if it had not been too old! All the Shapcotes ran out into
the court, hallooing Fire! and the engine came, but there was nothing
for it to do. Oh, the face Wilmet would make to see that kitchen.
Kettle's biling--I must run.'
He came back with an enormous metal tea-pot in one hand, and a boiling
kettle in the other, a cloud of vapour about his head.
'You appear in a cloud, like a Greek divinity,' said Cherry, beginning
to enter into the humour of the thing.
'Bringing nectar and ambrosia,' said Lance, depositing the kettle amid
the furbelows of paper in the grate, and proceeding to brew the tea.
'Excuse the small trifles of milk and cream; and as to bread, I can't
find it, but here are the cakes you had for luncheon, shunted off into
the passage window. Sugar, Cherry? Fingers were made before tongs. Now
I call this jolly.'
'I only hope this isn't a great liberty.'
'If you fired off a cannon under Mrs. Harewood's nose, she would not
call it a liberty.'
'So it appears. But Mr. Harewood does not look--like that.'
'Oh, he's well broken in. He is the pink of orderliness in his own
study and the library, but as long as no one meddles there, he minds
nothing. It just keeps him alive; but I believe the Shapcotes think
this house a mild lunatic asylum.'
'Who are the Shapcotes?'
'He's registrar. They live in the other half of this place--the old
infirmary, Mr. Harewood calls it. Such a contrast! He is a tremendous
old Turk in his house, and she is a little mincing woman; and they've
made Gus--he's one of us, you know--a horrid sneak, and think it's all
my bad company and Bill's. By-the-by, Cherry, Gus Shapcote asked me if
my senior wasn't spoony about--'
'I hope you told him to mind his own business!' cried Geraldine, with a
great start of indignation.
'I told him he was a sheep,' said Lance. 'But, I say, Cherry, I want to
know what you think of it.'
'Think? I'm not so ready to think nonsense!'
'Well, when the old giant was getting some tea for _her_, I saw two
ladies look at one another and wink.'
'Abominably ill-mannered,' she cried, growing ruddier than the cherry.
'But had you any notion of it?'
'Impossible!' she said breathlessly. 'He is only kind and civil to her,
as he is to everybody. Think how young he is!'
'I'm sure I never thought old Blunderbore much younger than Methuselah.
Twenty-one! Isn't it about the age one does such things?'
'Not when one has twelve brothers and sisters on one's back,' sighed
Geraldine. 'Poor Felix! No, there can't be anything in it. Don't let us
think of foolish nonsense this wonderful day. What a glorious hymn that
was!'
Lance laid his head lovingly on the sofa-cushion, and discussed
the enjoyment of the day with his skilled appreciation of music.
Geraldine's receptive power was not inferior to his own, though she had
none of that of expression, nor of the science in which he was trained.
He was like another being from the merry rattle he was at other times;
and she had more glimpses than she ever had before of the high nature
and deep enthusiasm that were growing in him.
'Hark! there's somebody coming,' she cried, starting.
'Let him come. Oh, it is the Pater.--Here is some capital tea, Mr.
Harewood. Have some? I'll get a cup.'
'You are taking care of your sister. That is right. A good colonist
you would make.--Come in, Lee,' said Mr. Harewood, who, to Cherry's
increased consternation, was followed by another clergyman. 'We are
better off than I dared to expect, thanks to this young gentleman. Miss
Geraldine Underwood--Mr. Lee.--You knew her father, I think.'
'Not poor Underwood of Bexley? Indeed! I knew him. I always wished I
could have seen more of him,' said Mr. Lee, coming up and heartily
shaking hands with Cherry, and asking whether she was staying there, &c.
Meantime Lance had fetched a blue china soup-plate, a white cup and
pink spotted saucer; another plate labelled 'Nursery,' and a coffee-cup
and saucer, one brown and the other blue; and as tidily as if he had
been lady of the house or parlour-maid, presented his provisions, Mr.
Harewood accepting with a certain quiet amusement. His remarkable
trim neatness of appearance, and old-school precision of manner, made
his quiet humorous acquiescence in the wild ways of his household all
the more droll. After a little clerical talk, that reminded Cherry
of the old times when she used to lie on her couch, supposed not to
understand, but dreamily taking in much more than any one knew--it
appeared that Mr. Lee wanted to see something in the Library, and Mr.
Harewood asked her whether she would like to come and see Coeur de
Lion's seal.
She was fully rested, and greatly pleased. Lance's arm was quite
sufficient now, and she studied the Cathedral and its precincts in a
superexcellent manner. Mr. Harewood, who had spent almost his whole
life under its shadow, and knew the history of almost every stone or
quarry of glass, was the best of lionizers, and gave her much attention
when he perceived how intelligent and appreciative she was. He showed
her the plan of the old conventual buildings, and she began to unravel
the labyrinth through which she had been hurried. The Close and Deanery
were modernized, but he valued the quaint old corner where he lived
for its genuine age. The old house now divided between him and Mr.
Shapcote had been the infirmary; and the long narrow building opposite,
between the Bailey and the cloister, had been the lodgings either of
lay-brothers or servants. There being few boarders at the Cathedral
school, they had always been lodged in the long narrow room, with
the second master in a little closet shut off from them. Cherry was
favoured with a glance at Lance's little corner, with the old-fashioned
black oak bedstead, solid but unsteady table and stool, the equally
old press, and the book-case he had made himself with boards begged
from his friend the carpenter. A photograph and drawing or two, and a
bat, completed the plenishing. She thought it very uncomfortable, but
Lance called it his castle; and Mr. Harewood, pointing to the washing
apparatus, related that in his day the cock in the Bailey was the only
provision for such purposes. The boys were safely locked in at eight
every night when the curfew rang, and the Bailey door was shut, there
being no other access to their rooms, except by the Cathedral, through
the Library, and the private door that led into the passage common to
the Harewoods and Shapcotes.
The loveliness of the Cloister, the noble vault of the Chapter-house,
the various beauties and wonders of the Cathedral, and lastly the
curiosities of the Library--where Mr. Harewood enthroned her in his own
chair, unlocked the cases, brought her the treasures, and turned over
the illuminated manuscripts for her as if she had been a princess--made
Geraldine forget time, weariness, and anxiety, until, as the summer sun
was at last taking leave, a voice called at the window, 'Here she is!
I thought Papa would have her here!' and the freckled face of a Miss
Harewood was seen peering in.
There the truants were, eager, hurried, afraid for the train, full of
compunction for the long abandonment: Alice, most apologetic; Wilmet,
most quiet; Felix, most attentive; Robina, still ecstatic; and Angela,
tired out--there they all were. It was all one hasty scramble to the
crowded station, and then one merry discussion and comparison of notes
all the way home; Geraldine maintaining that she had enjoyed herself
the best of all; and Alice incredulous of the pleasure of sitting in
a musty old library with an old gentleman of at least sixty; while
Felix was so much delighted to find that she had been so happy, that he
almost believed that the delay had been solely out of consideration for
her.
Mr. Froggatt was safe at the station in his basket, full of delight
at the enjoyment of his young people, and of anecdotes of Bernard and
Stella; and Geraldine found herself safely deposited at home, but with
one last private apology from Wilmet as she was putting her to bed.
'I did not know how to help it,' she said; 'Alice was so wild with
delight, that I could not get her away; and Felix was enjoying his
holiday so thoroughly, I knew that you would be sorry it should be
shortened.'
'Indeed I am very glad you stayed. It would be too bad to encumber you.'
'I wanted to come and see after you, but I had promised Miss Pearson
not to lose sight of Alice. And then Lance offered to take care of you.'
'O Wilmet, I never half knew what a dear boy Lance is! What boy would
have come, when all that was going on, to stay with a lame cross
thing like me? And how nice for him to have such kind friends as the
Harewoods!'
'They seem very fond of him,' said Wilmet; 'but I wish he had taken up
with the Shapcotes. I never saw such a house. It is enough to ruin all
sense of order! But they were very kind to us; and if you were well
off, it was all right. I never saw Felix look so like his bright old
self as to-day; and it is his birth-day, after all.'
So Wilmet was innocent of all suspicions--wise experienced Wilmet!
That was enough to make Cherry forget that little thorn of jealousy,
especially as things subsided into their usual course, and she had no
more food for conjecture.