WHAT IT LED TO.
'Then out and spak the popinjay.'
_Old Ballad._
Geraldine was hard at work on a drawing. Edgar's teaching had improved
her so much that, under a sore longing to obtain some good studies, she
had ventured to place in the shop one of her best imaginary groups, and
to her surprise and delight, it had brought her in fifteen shillings,
and an order for a companion.
Vistas of hope began to rise before her, only obscured by her
consciousness of the want of knowledge and skill. It took some
resolution not to attend exclusively to her art, and she was forced to
make it a rule never to touch a pencil till the lessons of Bernard and
Stella were both over for the day.
They were finished, the children in the garden, and Cherry was in that
world of joy and something like inspiration known to spirits imbued
with any of the constructive poetry of art, always endeavouring to
fulfil an ideal, never indeed satisfying themselves, but never so at
rest as in the effort.
Presently she was startled by a step on the stairs. Nothing short
of the Fall of Delhi had ever been known to bring Felix upstairs in
business hours; and he was especially bound to his work at present,
since Mr. Froggatt was detained at home by a serious attack of
rheumatism. She looked up amazed at the eager question, 'Is there a
letter from Alda?'
'I believe there is, waiting for Wilmet. What is the matter?'
'The most astonishing thing. Here is Ferdinand Travis writing to tell
me of his engagement to Alda.'
'To Alda?'
'To Alda! I looked twice to be sure that there was no confusion between
the names, but it is my sister Alda beyond a doubt. He would not ask
my consent if it were Marilda. Here's the letter, as good and nice as
possible, dear good fellow.'
'Then what Edgar told us must have been pure imagination.'
'Not the old folks' wishes, most likely. For the rest, Edgar can make a
good story. One can't wonder at the preference, and there's no denying
that it is a brilliant chance for Alda.'
'And what a blessing that he should be so good!'
'Infinite! No one could be so welcome! How pleased Mr. Audley will be!
But I must go, and try not to look too much disposed to stand on the
counter and crow.'
Whatever Felix did below, upstairs Cherry found drawing impossible.
Ferdinand a brother! The pleasure was enhanced by the affectionate
simplicity of his letter, the outcome of so good a heart, greatly in
love, but very conscientious, and utterly unpresuming on his wealth,
but showing all his old affection and reverence for Felix. What a
delightful wonder that Alda should bring in a connection so faithful to
Felix!
Yet, what would not Cherry have given to be as unsuspicious as Felix
or Wilmet? Why would misgivings come into her head such as never
troubled theirs? Why must she be haunted by Alda's intimations about
her travelling companions, and her manner, half scornful, half nettled,
when Edgar described the terms on which Mr. Travis stood?
She read Ferdinand's letter a second time, and was convinced that he
looked at the whole with such artless seriousness as to preclude all
notion of his having been consciously playing fast and loose; but she
was ready to torture herself for the involuntary doubt whether her own
sister were equally to be trusted.
However, when Wilmet came home, her genuine wholesome overflow of
undoubting rapture could not but sweep Cherry along in the tide.
Ferdinand combined the apparently impossible advantages of being
thoroughly one of themselves, and yet of being able to give Alda
the luxuries to which she had become accustomed; and Wilmet's joy
was beyond expression. The contrast between the twins--one admired,
praised, followed, esteemed, as one of the brightest ornaments of
London society; the other toiling in an obscure poverty-stricken home,
a teacher in a small third-class school, her beauty unheeded or viewed
as a real disadvantage--all this never occurred for one moment to
Wilmet, she only felt elevated in her sister.
Two days passed before more letters were received, and these came
by the first instead of the second post, before breakfast was
over. Four--besides one unheeded, being only in Robina's childish
handwriting--Alda to Wilmet, Thomas Underwood and Ferdinand both to
Felix, Edgar to Geraldine. There was a simultaneous opening of the
letters, then a general starting and looking into one another's eyes,
and Geraldine faintly murmured,
'Then it was really _so!_'
'So? what do you mean?' broke forth Wilmet. 'These selfish people are
treating my poor Alda most cruelly among them; and Felix must go and
fetch her home to be married from her own brother's house as she ought
to be.'
'I shall have to fetch her home,' said Felix thoughtfully; 'but I wish
I were quite clear that she has been dealing kindly by Marilda.'
'You are not believing that man Thomas rather than your own sister!'
cried Wilmet. 'If Alda does happen to be prettier than his daughter,
she can't help it. I'm sure I should be glad enough not to be pretty,
but it is a trial, and one must do the best one can.'
'That is just what I fear Alda has been doing,' said Felix between his
teeth, as he frowned over his letter.
'Read her letter, poor dear girl,' cried Wilmet, 'and see if you
aren't ashamed of such a judgment! No. Some is only meant for me; but
listen--"Your letter of sisterly joy has come on troubled waters. I
always knew I was the poor relation upon sufferance, but I have been
taught to feel it now." She does not know how she could bear it, but
for the security of Ferdinand's strength; and they will not let her
see him--say she must give him up or them--Mrs. Underwood's violence
inconceivable, and all because of a chimerical fancy.'
'What does Ferdinand himself say?' asked Cherry, as Wilmet looked on
for further selections.
'He says,' said Felix, reading, 'that our greeting was especially
welcome, from the contrast to what he met with from Mr. Underwood.
The angry opposition took him by surprise, having always thought they
regarded Alda as a daughter; but of course nothing makes any difference
to him, and he would much rather come to us for her than to a stranger.
His uncle is at New Orleans, and he is writing to him; he is afraid
they ought to wait for the answer, though there can be no doubt about
it, and he owes him no obedience.--Now, Cherry, there is just time for
Edgar's account before we go our several ways.'
'O Felix,' cried Wilmet, 'aren't you going to fetch her home, poor
dear?'
'Not possible to-day, Mettie. I shall have much ado to get away
to-morrow. Don't be so unhappy, you know she _could_ come alone or with
Edgar, if it were so very dreadful; or if you are so fierce, you had
better go yourself and encounter "Man Thomas."'
Wilmet looked so much hurt, that Geraldine thought to defend Felix by
reading aloud at once.
'Ma Chérie
'Such a bear-garden never was seen! Madame furious, Tom
abusive, Alda injured innocence, Montezuma heroism, and poor
Polly magnanimous--though the less said about her, the soonest
mended. I saw when I went back that the crisis could not be
far off. The fact is, that our dear sister cannot see any one
else treated as "an object," and has so persuaded herself that
she is the proverbial maltreated poor relation, as to think
everything fair.'
'Geraldine!' exclaimed Wilmet, 'how can you read? Felix, how can you
listen to such things about your own sister?'
'It is only what she said herself,' said Felix drily. 'Go on, Cherry.'
'It must be owned that it was hard, when for once Polly had
fallen in with something alike palatable to self and parents,
and able to swallow her broad visage! If Madame had had any
wit, she would have kept Alda away till the fish was hooked,
when, it is my belief, he would have had no eyes for aught
beyond; but the good creature is too sure of the charms of
her own goose, to dread the admission of any swan whatsoever
to her pond. While the Cacique being yet uncommitted, small
blame to him if he saw the differ, especially as he attaches
to Alda all the sanctity of Bexley, which is to him at the
least what St. Matthew's is to Clem. To have been reared on
the other--or indeed any side of the Atlantic, our intended
brother-in-law is curiously simple. He accepted the intimation
that Alda's face is her fortune with superb indifference;
whether it will be the same with his uncle, remains to be
seen; and I am afraid he is a good deal dependent on him, his
mother's Mexican property having been speculated away. I don't
like the look of the business; but if any one can do any good
it is Marilda herself. Tom is in a towering rage, and his wife
worse--neither perceiving that the noise they make is small
mercy to their daughter. She looks all manner of colours, but
stands out gallantly that she is glad, and that all is as it
should be; and I believe that, left to herself, she will set
things straight. Felix had better keep out of the fray except
upon compulsion.'
'Here is compulsion,' said Felix. 'Tom Underwood summons me; I can't
say I like the errand.'
'You ought not to let yourself be led by Edgar's unkind joking way!'
'We ought to be off now, at any rate,' said Felix, glad to close
the discussion. 'I'll write to get Fernan to meet me at the station
to-morrow.'
Accordingly, when he arrived, there was Ferdinand Travis driving a
magnificent horse, the whole turn-out very far from looking like a
connection of Froggatt and Underwood. He had certainly developed into a
splendidly handsome fellow, though still lithe and slight rather than
robust, and his dignified bearing giving the idea of greater height
than his inches testified to. His greeting was warmly affectionate,
with all his old wishful reverence towards his young godfather, and
even with a sort of doubt of his thinking him worthy of his sister.
As to the disturbance created by the avowal of the object of his
attentions, he seemed amazed at it, and entirely unconscious of any
supposed change on his part.
'I knew my uncle wished me to be an intimate with the family,' he said,
'and I was rejoiced to fall in with any one who bore your name, and
knew how to appreciate you; but I had reason to think that--that there
were other views--for--' and here the olive cheeks grew crimson, and he
stammered himself into a hopeless entanglement, whence Felix recalled
him charitably to an account of the explosion as it had affected
himself.
It appeared that his proposal had not been mentioned to the family till
Felix's answer had been received, Ferdinand feeling that no one ought
to hear of it before the eldest brother. The lovers had met that night
at a ball, and their consultation over the letters had taken place in
the conservatory, where they had been surprised, and partly overheard,
by Mrs. Underwood. When Ferdinand arrived the next morning, he was
received with denunciations of underhand ways, and his explanation only
made matters worse. A thunderstorm about ingratitude and treachery was
launched forth, and he was told that the connection was so contrary to
any intentions of his uncle, that Mr. Underwood could not hear of it,
and that Alda must renounce it entirely, on peril of being cast off by
the family. That Ferdinand regarded her brother as the true head of her
house, was only additionally provoking; and Mr. Underwood had given him
warning, which he only hinted at to Felix, that the engagement could
not be carried on with impunity.
Therewith they reached Kensington Palace Gardens, and being in a
measure forbidden the house, Ferdinand drove about waiting for Felix,
who on giving his name, found himself ushered into the room where the
whole party were finishing breakfast.
Alda, looking meek and pensive, but very lovely, exquisitely dressed
in white and blue ribbons, flew into his arms as if her protector
were come; Mr. Underwood, without getting up, acknowledged him by a
grunt, and hand held out; Marilda came round, and put a cold hand into
his, clasping it tight; and her mother greeted him with, 'So, Felix
Underwood, you are come up about this unlucky business?'
'There is no reason it should be anything but a very happy one,' said
Marilda stoutly. 'Come, Mamma, we had better leave Papa and Felix;' and
she set the example, but Mrs. Underwood did not stir.
'You hear the dear girl!' she said. 'It ought to go to Alda's heart!'
'It is of no use talking before the ladies,' said Mr. Underwood,
getting up. 'That is, unless you have the good sense to join with me
in telling Alda that she must give up this wild affair. The fellow has
next to nothing of his own, and his uncle would see him at Jericho
before he consented to a match like this!'
'I am hardly prepared to do that, Sir,' said Felix, as Alda clung to
his arm, and looked appealingly in his face, 'unless the objection were
more personal.'
'Objection!' burst forth the lady of the house, 'when he has been
making his way underhand--deceiving us all along.'
'Alda, my dear,' said Felix in her ear, 'don't you think you had better
go upstairs?'
But Alda seemed as little disposed as Mrs. Underwood to quit the scene
of conflict. 'O Felix, I don't know what she means, nor what we have
been doing, for them all to turn against me.'
'Don't tell me, Miss Innocence,' retorted Mrs. Underwood, the
artificial polish giving way, and the native scolding Polly Kedge
breaking out in a storm of words. 'Wasn't the young man doing just as
his uncle meant him, and my poor dear girl fancying him as I never
saw her do any one before, till you came home with your sly, artful
ways--you that owed us the very clothes on your back?'
'Hush, Mary!' ejaculated her husband; but he might as well have tried
to stop a torrent.
'Ay, I know. She comes round every man of you with her smooth tongue
and pretty face, till you--you are ready to take her part against your
own child, Underwood. When my poor girl's laid in her coffin, then you
will know what a serpent you've been fostering.'
To Felix's surprise and annoyance, Alda must needs answer: 'I'm sure
it's very hard! If people will look at me, I can't help it; and I've as
much right to be spoken to as Marilda. She that has got everything, and
poor me--'
Luckily her tears stopped her voice.
'Come along, Felix,' said the master of the house, opening the door;
and he, perceiving that escape alone could put an end to this most
humiliating scene, whispered again his recommendation to Alda to go to
her room, and saw her hurrying up the stairs before his kinsman shut
the door of his private room with a bounce, exclaiming, 'There! Now we
are out of the way of the women's tongues, we can hear ourselves speak.
I am afraid it is an awkward business, Felix Underwood.'
'I am afraid it is, Sir.'
'And the ladies make it worse by making such a din about it,' said Tom,
who after all was an Underwood, and whose better breeding had come to
the perception how these ravings compromised his daughter's dignity.
'How far any one is to blame, I can't tell. The truth is, that it
would have been very satisfactory to Alfred Travis and to me both if
the lad and my girl could have made it up together, and they seemed
ready enough to like each other. My girl has got rather a turn for your
new-fashioned sort of saints, and he seemed just her style. Everything
does go contrary at times; and when your sister came home, with her
pretty face and way, my wife declares now she saw a change from the
first, but to tell the truth I never did, and I doubt her doing so;
but you may guess how amazed we were when she came on them whispering
together, and it came out that he had been writing to you to sanction
his proposing for Alda, as if he were ashamed to come to me, who had
always been a father to her.'
'He meant no slight to you, Sir,' said Felix, eagerly; 'but you know we
were his first acquaintance, and he had a feeling that an elder brother
came nearest. I am sure he felt no shame; he was conscious of no change
of intention.'
'Well, well, he is a little bit of an ass. Between ourselves, Felix,
I don't blame him half as much as Alda. The girl is sharp enough; she
has swarms of lovers; men come about her like wasps to a lump of sugar;
and there's £5,000 ready for her the day she marries; but when there
was one my poor Mary liked for once, we liked for her, and was in the
way of liking her--Mary, who has shared everything with her like a
sister--she might have let him alone. Indeed, her aunt gave her a hint,
but it only served to make her carry it on on the sly.'
Felix wished he had not known of Alda's hearing Edgar's report. He
could only say sadly, 'If so, she is quite indefensible.'
What would Wilmet have thought of his fight with 'Man Thomas?'
'Of course,' proceeded that gentleman, 'we know the less we say of
that part of the story the better. Some day, Mary will know she's well
rid of a coxcombical foreign-looking fellow. She can afford to look
farther; but for your sister, this is the maddest thing in the world.
William Travis made a regular mull with his wife's fortune, and depend
on it, the young man has next to nothing, and would come to beggary if
he offended his uncle. There is nothing for it but for them to give one
another up!'
'I do not think there is much chance of their doing so,' replied Felix.
'Not as they are now, in the height and fury of the thing; but you are
a sensible lad, Felix; you will do your best to show them the utter
folly of the thing.'
'We do not know whether Ferdinand can afford it yet,' said Felix.
'Don't delude yourself with fancying Alfred Travis will swallow
this! Not he! Why, he's set on that young Spanish don making a great
match--hardly thought my Mary's hundred thousand good enough.'
'Very likely he will refuse consent,' returned Felix; 'but, in the
meantime, I see nothing to be done but for Alda to go home with me and
wait.'
'To very little purpose,' ejaculated Mr. Underwood, 'except that maybe
a taste of your way of life may bring her to her senses, and serve her
right. I must say,' he added, 'it is hard that both this boy and girl
should be thrown back on your hands for no fault of yours. I wish I
could help it, but you see there wouldn't be a moment's peace if Alda
stayed here without giving him up.'
'It is not fit that she should,' said Felix.
'I like the girl, too; indeed, she's almost like my own,' continued Mr.
Underwood; 'the house will be dull without her, and I believe those
pretty young women can't help flirting, and think one another's beaux
fair game. Eh? Well, we'll send for her and put it to her--will she
give up Travis and stay here, or hold him to it and go home with you?'
Felix could make no objection, though he had no question what the
decision would be; so the bell was rung, Alda was summoned, and soon
appeared with burning cheeks and moist eyes.
'Now, Alda,' said her adopted uncle, 'your brother and I have talked
it over, and I am ready to overlook what has gone by--that is, if your
aunt will--and to let all be as it was before, on this one condition,
that you break off this foolish concern. Listen to me. You will find
that he has little enough to call his own, and his uncle can cut off
his allowance any day. It is mere insanity to think he will consent to
such a match as you would be; and you would be doing the best thing for
the young man and yourself to tell him it is all nonsense, and you've
thought better of it.'
'O Uncle, I couldn't do that!'
'If not--you have the choice--I can't abet what Travis never intended,
your aunt couldn't stand it either. There's nothing for it but that you
should leave this house. Choose between us and him!'
'That can't help being done, Uncle,' said Alda, with streaming eyes
and a choked voice. 'You have been very good to me, but he must come
first;' and she moved towards Felix, who put his arm round her kindly,
and kissed her, saying,
'Then, Alda, I will leave you to prepare; I must go and see the
children and Edgar. I will come back for you in time for the half-past
five train.'
Alda's tears flowed too fast again for words, and she turned to leave
the room.
'I shall see you again,' said Mr. Underwood. 'Can I give you a lift
anywhere, Felix?'
'No, thank you, Sir; Travis is waiting for me.'
'Ay, ay, very fine with his thorough-bred; but when his allowance is
docked, how is he to live on his pay?'
The brougham had long been waiting for Tom Underwood, and he left them
together. Alda hung on her brother. 'O Felix, is it not dreadful?'
'I thought him very kind and forgiving,' said Felix.
'Is that what you call forgiving? And oh! if you could hear Aunt Mary!
You little think what I have gone through!'
'It will be over soon,' said Felix, kindly. 'You are going home, you
know, and Wilmet is wild to have you.'
'But, Felix, you don't think they mean to do more than frighten me?
Ferdinand must have a real right to his own father's money; and
besides, he can't properly object to me; Uncle Tom promised me my
£5,000 whatever happened!'
'I cannot stay to discuss that now, Alda,' said Felix. 'I have a great
deal to do, and Fernan is waiting for me. I shall come back in time.'
'Oh, I wish I could come with you now! Dear Fernan! Tell him I have
borne it all for his sake, but it is such an age since I saw him!'
'No doubt he will meet us at the station,' said Felix, escaping at
last, and finding Ferdinand not many yards off in the road outside.
'Well, Fernan, to Brompton, if you please. Mr. Underwood is really much
kinder than I expected; but as things stand, you can't carry it on in
their house, so Alda comes home with me to-night.'
'Then the dear girl is really banished for my sake! I mean, no place is
like Bexley to me. But it is very noble of her!' exclaimed Ferdinand,
curiously divided between regard for Felix and sense of Alda's
sacrifice.
'It is the proper place in which for her to wait for your uncle's
answer,' said Felix; 'but indeed, Fernan, it is a question whether we
ought to let you risk all your prospects.'
Ferdinand's vehement demand what Felix took him for, and equally eager
protest that his uncle must know he had no right to withhold the means
that were in all equity due to him, lasted through all the brief
transit to the farther end of Brompton, where a great old house and
grounds, once quite in the country, had been adapted and revivified by
Miss Fulmort.
'Might I not come in and see the little girls?' asked Ferdinand,
wistfully.
'I should _rather suppose_ not,' said Felix, smiling. 'Life-Guardsmen
are not exactly the visitors expected in establishments for young
ladies. You had better not wait for me; I cannot give the children less
than an hour.'
'I would wait if it were ten hours.'
'But how about your horse? He isn't in love!'
Ferdinand would not, however, be denied; and when at length a
rendezvous was agreed on, Felix, free of the dashing equipage, of which
he was, to tell the truth, slightly ashamed, rang at the gates, arrived
at the house door, announced himself as Mr. Underwood, asked to see his
sisters; and after a long labyrinth of matted passages, found himself
in a pretty countrified room, where a wiry, elderly, sensible lady,
with grey hair and a keen face, gave him a friendly reception, drew a
favourable, but not enthusiastic, picture of Robina's steadiness and
industry, and said that Angela was a more difficult character. By this
time Robina came into the room with her hat on, eagerly, but with her
face flushed and her eyes rather frightened, and as she received her
brother's kiss, she said, 'The little ones are not come in yet.--May I
take my brother into the garden, Miss Fennimore?'
Permission was given, and Robina held his hand with an unusually tight
grasp as she led him to the wide, square, walled garden, with a broad
gravel-walk around an old-fashioned bowling-green. He thought the round
face looked anxious and perplexed, and was rather uneasy as he began by
saying, 'I hope not to lose Angel. Do you always walk so early in the
day?'
'On Herr Müller's days, because he only comes in the afternoon,' said
Robina; 'but I am rather glad; I wanted to speak to you, Felix.'
'Is anything wrong?' said Felix, seeing that the child's face had
become crimson, and hearing effort in her voice. 'You are happy here?
Don't be afraid to tell me anything, my dear. Remember, there is no one
so bound to watch over you.'
'I know,' said Robina, looking up into those kind eyes. 'I want to tell
you--' but she panted, and he encouraged her by putting his other hand
over hers caressingly. 'Edgar comes every Sunday,' came out at last.
'And what of that? Isn't it a pleasure?'
'It--it would be--but he and Alice ought not to send each other notes
and messages.'
'What?' very low.
'Indeed they do; and I can't tell what to do.'
'What sort of notes and messages?' asked Felix, in a half reproving
voice, as though he thought the solemnity of thirteen was taking alarm
needlessly.
'O Felix, love notes,' half whispered the girl, hanging her burning
head.
'Nonsense, child; you have misunderstood some joke.'
'No,' said Robina, looking full in his face with sturdy offended
dignity. 'They both were in earnest when they told me about it.'
'About what?' said he, still severely, as he sat down on a bench,
unheeding February damp.
'About--' she was not far from tears, as she faltered out, 'their
engagement.'
'Theirs!' he wrung the hand that he still retained; 'Edgar and--'
'And Alice Knevett,' said Robin. 'I would not promise not to tell. I
hope it is not treachery!'
'How long?' asked Felix, hoarsely.
'Ever since the holidays. They used to walk together when Miss Pearson
thought she was with us, but none of us ever knew it then.'
'You are certain? Remember, this is a graver matter than perhaps you
understand.'
'I think I do understand, and it is that which makes me so unhappy;
but, _indeed_, it can't be fancy. I have seen her ring, emerald and
amethyst, for Edgar and Alice, and the locket with their hairs twisted
together. The very first Sunday we were here, he gave me a note for
her, and when I told him it was not allowed, he tried quizzing me at
first, and at last told me I was a silly child who did not know what
was proper between engaged people. So I said,' continued Robina, with
dignity, 'that I could allow much to be proper in that case, but I
wanted to know whether this was only kept from me because I was a baby,
and was known to you and the grown-up people.'
'Right, Robin,' muttered Felix, feeling that she needed encouragement.
'Then he laughed at me more than ever about expecting things to be
proclaimed on the market-cross, and tried to puzzle me out of my
senses, till I could only stick to one thing, that I couldn't take
his notes unless somebody knew. And after all I found the thing in my
jacket pocket. He must have put it in when I was not looking.'
'And what did you do with it?'
'Oh! the dreadful thing! I felt as if it would bite me all the week
long, but I didn't think it would be honourable to tear it or burn it,
and I kept it. Luckily Alice didn't ask if I had a note, only whether
he had said anything; and when she found I knew, she told me all about
it, and said all sorts of things about my being unkind and mean to
stand out, but I never promised to keep the secret.'
'Are you still keeping this note?'
'No. I gave it back to Edgar on Sunday, and told him to play no such
tricks. I thought he would have been in a rage, but he was--oh! so
provoking! just as if he didn't care for a little spite in a naughty
child.'
'Then is this intercourse checked?'
'No, that's the worst of it. When I would not, they took to Angel.
You know she got very fond of Edgar in the winter, and was always
running after him and waiting on him. So she did what he told her quite
innocently at first, till I found out what was going on, and tried
to stop her; but she doesn't care for me as she does for Edgar, and
thinks it grand to be in all their secrets, when I am too cross. And
then there's a class that goes to the South Kensington Museum, and
Alice is one of them, and Edgar is about there. I'm sure Miss Fulmort
ought not to be deceived as they are doing; it's all nonsense about
schoolmistresses being designed by nature to be hoodwinked. It makes me
so miserable, I don't know what to do; and when I heard you were come,
it was as if you had been sent on purpose to help me.'
'Poor child!' said Felix, with a heavy sigh. 'You have kept this all to
yourself.'
'I could not tell any one. I could have told Miss Lyveson, because she
is one's friend; but it would only be being a tell-tale and informer
here. And one's own brother, too! And I could not write, for they look
over all the letters that are not to fathers and mothers.'
'They must make an exception for me!' said Felix, in an indignant tone.
'I knew you would say so. O Felix, tell them so! I do feel like having
Papa now I have you.'
'If you only had!' sighed Felix. 'My poor Bob, it is a grievous
business, but you have been very upright and considerate, as far as I
can see.'
'I'm so glad you don't want me to have told!' she said, with a sigh of
relief, as unlike his as that of one who throws off a burden is to that
of him who takes it up.
'Not if it can be helped. It would be a mischievous and cruel exposure,
and would be hard on one who has been led into it,' he said, with
breaks and pauses, half for breath, half for considering. 'It is most
reckless, most unjustifiable, in Edgar!' He knit his brows, so that she
gazed at him in awe and wonder, as having something in his countenance
that she did not comprehend. Then, after a silence, he said, 'Robin, I
will speak to Edgar, and if you do not find that this is stopped after
_one_ communication, which of course there must be, write to me. These
ladies must make an exception in favour of such as we are!'
'O Felix, it is so nice to hold you and feel you! Only I wish I had not
had to grieve you so much!'
'Dishonourable conduct is not what I was prepared for!' he said,
setting his teeth.
'And will you speak to Angel? I hear them coming in,' said Robina.
'Yes. Let me have her alone at first. Come back in ten minutes' time.'
He was still sitting on the bench, with his elbows on his knees, and
his hands over his brow, when Angela came towards him. She was of the
same long-limbed make as Clement, was nearly as tall as the square
sturdy Robina nearly three years older, and had Clement's small, almost
baby mould of features, relieved only by such arch deep blue eyes as
shone in Edgar's face. She looked such a mere child, that when her
step and exclamation caused Felix to raise his head, it seemed absurd
to imagine her to be knowingly engaged as go-between in a clandestine
correspondence; and with a sort of pity and compunction for the blame
he had intended, he held out his arms to her.
'O Felix, how cold you are! Your face is like marble. Now if I was to
sit there, in this weather, wouldn't they be at me like wild cats?'
Thus reminded, Felix rose, and certainly shivered after the exercise of
his privilege. 'Are you happy here, Angel?' he asked in a constrained
tone.
'Yes, it is jollier than Miss Pearson's. There are more girls, and we
do have such fun!'
'I hope you are good and steady, and very careful of all the rules.'
Angela fidgeted, as if she didn't like the style of the conversation.
'You know,' he continued, 'there may be rules that you may not see the
use of, but that must be obeyed for all that.'
'What a tiresome dry old Blunderbore you are!' broke out Angela, with
ill-assured sauciness; 'this isn't the way Edgar goes on when he comes
to see us.'
Felix could not check a sort of groan or grunt; and Angela, whose
pertness was defensive, quailed a little. She had driven him out of the
due sequence of his discourse, but he resumed it. 'Angel, I must tell
you; if anybody asks you to break rules--by giving letters--you must
not.'
Angela kicked pebbles about.
'Have you ever been asked to do so?'
She hung her head, and a pout came over her face.
'Angel,' he said, in a voice from the sadness of his heart, 'I will
not ask any questions, in case you have made promises not to betray
secrets; but you must never make such promises again. Tell me you will
never do--this thing again.'
She was silent.
'Angela!' he said, reprovingly.
'I don't know why I should promise you more than Edgar,' broke out
Angela, petulantly. 'He is my brother too, and he isn't cross; and I
love him, and _will_ keep his secret.'
Between this flat defiance of his authority, and his scruple about
interfering with the child's sense of honour, Felix was in no slight
perplexity even as to this interview with his little sister. His
disclaimer came first. 'I ask about no one's secret,' he said; 'but,
Angel, I must have you understand this. If you break the rules that
forbid the giving of notes from any person outside the school, it will
be doing more harm than you can understand. I shall put a stop to it at
once, and most likely you will be sent away in disgrace.'
She was somewhat awed, but she did not speak.
'Whatever any one may say to you,' said Felix, 'recollect that it is
dishonesty and treachery to do anything underhand, and the greatest
possible mischief to those you wish to be kind to. Don't you see, it is
no kindness to help any one to do wrong?'
She began to cry. 'They don't want to do wrong. It is very nasty and
mean of Bobbie to have told.'
'You will know some day how good and trustworthy it is in Bobbie,' said
her elder brother. 'You cannot understand the rights and wrongs in such
a manner as this, at your age, Angel.' (To tell the child this was a
mistake, if he had but known it.) 'You must be satisfied with knowing
that whatever breaks rules and must be kept secret is necessarily
disobedient and deceitful, and may have terrible consequences. Do you
believe me? Then give me your word to have no more to do with it.'
She muttered something among her tears like 'I won't,' and Felix was
satisfied, for the exaction of promises had necessarily been the
chief mode of government with the two youthful pillars of the house,
who spent so much time apart from their dominions; and it was almost
unprecedented that such a promise was not observed.
Robina was lingering near, and as they joined her Felix found that his
time was up. He was taken back to the drawing-room, where he found
himself in presence of the lady he had seen, and of a much younger
smaller person, with a slight cast in her eye, and a peculiar jerking
manner such as he could well believe would frighten away a young girl's
confidence. When he made his request for free correspondence from his
little sisters, there was no demur; only Miss Fulmort said, half vexed,
'It ought to have been mentioned before; she did not know why the
children had not told her.' And then she made a point of ascertaining
Felix's individual address; for she said, 'A great deal of undesirable
stuff may be scribbled to brothers and sisters.'
Felix possessed no card, unless such might be reckoned the announcement
of photographs and stationery, &c., which was wont to be put up
with parcels for strangers; and when he tried to write 'Mr. F. C.
Underwood,' the shivering chill so affected his fingers that he could
hardly guide the pencil. He took leave, and soon found the assiduous
Ferdinand, who presently asked, shyly, 'What the little ones thought of
it?'
Felix bethought himself. 'Really, Fernan, it was put out of my head;
and, moreover, perhaps it had better not be known more widely than
needful.'
'You do not doubt--'
All the ground that had been gone over before was argued out once again
by the eager Mexican before they reached the National Gallery, the
appointed place of meeting with Edgar. He was not within, but without,
and, throwing away his cigar, hailed them as Fernan drew up his horse.
'At last! The storm must have been pitiless, to judge by the effects!
You are blue with cold, Felix.'
'Ferdinand, thank you,' said Felix, getting out. 'I am sorry, but I
must have Edgar alone a little while.'
'Look here, Travis,' said Edgar, seeing his blank look, 'we'll give you
the honour of giving us a spread. You go on and order it at ----'s, and
I'll walk this fellow there. Curry soup that will astonish him, and
warm the cockles of his heart, mind.'
Ferdinand nodded, and drove off, perfectly satisfied with this
compensation.
'Let's see if we can walk a little life into you,' said Edgar, taking
his brother's arm. 'Bless thy five wits, Tom's a cold! Was it Madame! I
always thought she could not be many generations from Billingsgate.'
'I have been to Brompton.'
'That tragical hoarseness would lead me to conclude something. Eh!
has that Robin been chirping out her fancies? And do you mean to
say that you are struck all of a heap by the awful discovery of a
boarding-school mystery?'
'It is naturally distressing to find you acting such a part.'
'Then I am afraid you have a good deal to go through in the course
of your life. If every little flirtation on the part of your
"_Geschwister_" is to produce this effect, there won't be much left of
you by the time it comes to Stella.'
'What meaning do you attach to the words "little flirtation?"'
'When the head of the family puts the question in that solemn tone, how
is it to be answered? Bless me, Blunderbore, such a countenance can
only proceed from being smitten yourself! To be sure, when there was
only one girl you ever spoke to, it was no wonder. Poor old fellow! I'd
never have poached on your manor, but how was I to imagine a pillar of
the house giving way to such levities?'
'This is mere bravado, Edgar,' was the grave answer, in a tone not
disconcerted, but full of repression, and with a pale but steady
countenance. 'Gloss it over as you will, a correspondence such as you
have begun is unjustifiable. It risks damaging for ever the prospects,
at once not only of--of the object--but those of your little sisters.'
'O Felicissimo mio, how green a spot is Bexley! As though secrets and
mysteries were not the elixir of life to the boarding-school.'
'Have you ever considered what a discovery must involve?'
'I need not, it seems, since you had not the sense to box that
child's ears for a meddlesome tell-tale. Did the scene equal Madame's
performance?'
'You do not imagine that I mentioned it.'
'Oh! The revered prop of the state soars so far above my head that I
did not know what he might regard as his duty.'
'You shall know it now, Edgar. There are two choices. If you are really
engaged to this young lady' (Edgar made a nod of impatient scornful
acquiescence, but certainly of acquiescence), 'then ask her honourably
from her friends, and let whatever you do be open! Otherwise, give
it up as an impossible imprudence, but drop all attempt at what is
clandestine. Unless you do one or other of these, I warn you that I
shall speak to Miss Pearson.'
'If you were a reasonable and experienced paterfamilias, instead of
only a poor conscientious over-harassed prig of a boy, with more
brothers and sisters than he knows what to do with, I'll tell you, in
candid unprejudice, what you would do. Just let it alone! There are as
many of such little affairs going as there are midges in a sunbeam;
and they never do any one any harm, unless the higher powers make an
unadvised hubbub.'
'Am I to understand that as an avowal that you know yourself to be
trifling?'
'I know nothing about it. I don't live in the heroics, like some of my
friends. In the rural seclusion of Bexley I saw a pretty lively girl,
who, not to put too fine a point upon it, made quite as much up to the
romantic young artist as ever the young artist did to her. Of course,
there was an exchange of prettinesses, and life on either side became
a blank when she was immured at Brompton, and the only solace left was
the notes that so outrage your and Bobbie's united sense of propriety.'
'And what is to follow?'
'Is it to lead to?' he corrected, with a mimicry of Wilmet's tone.
'That depends. If you make the explosion, I shall have to rise to the
occasion--keep the slip-knot ready and patent, and as soon as I get my
head above water, have a wife and family on my back to keep me down,
and hinder me from coming to your rescue. If not--why, it will take
its chance, and we shall have a reasonable chance of trying whether
we get tired of one another--the best thing that could happen to
us, by-the-by--though she is such a saucy little darling, that were
that picture of mine painted, I should be fool enough to marry her
to-morrow.'
'And why--may I ask--seeing these things so clearly, did you draw the
poor child into an engagement?'
Edgar shrugged his shoulders. 'You had better ask why she drew me.
If you didn't know it before, my dear Felix, "'Tis human natur to be
fools."'
'Allowing it to be folly, you do not mean to persist?'
'As if a poor fellow must always have a meaning! Life is not worth
having if one is to be always so awfully in earnest.'
'I have the misfortune to be in earnest,' said Felix, with the
formality of one past patience, but resolved to keep his temper in
hand, 'when I warn you, that if I find that this intercourse is
continued, unless you choose to ask her properly of her father, it will
be my duty to let Miss Pearson know.'
'So be it,' was the answer, in a tone of half mocking, half
compassionate submission, that was more provoking than all, except
for the sudden change to the gay kindliness that followed, as Edgar
threw aside his own affairs, to laugh over Ferdinand Travis's honest
simplicity of adoration of Alda and all her household, declaring that
it had been as much for his delight, as to be rid of him, that he
himself had devised that commission of the luncheon. 'What a spread it
will be!' Edgar chuckled to himself; 'and how it will be thrown away on
the present company! not that there ever was a man who wanted it more!'
he added, as he saw how white his brother's face was. 'You've been and
got a chill!'
Felix did not deny it; and if his unsophisticated palate did not
appreciate all that Ferdinand had ordered on the principle that
nothing could be too good for him either in his individual capacity or
as Alda's brother, he at least submitted to what his two companions
required of him in the way of hot soup, and _even_ of one glass of
wine, before he grew restive, and insisted on carrying the head that
their solicitude had succeeded in rendering heated and flushed to
burning pitch, to do the business in the City that always sprang up
whenever any one had to go to town.
Edgar bade him adieu; and the faithful Ferdinand drove him wherever
he had to go, and finally to Kensington Palace Gardens, where he
was ushered into the drawing-room, to find Marilda, resolved upon
unconsciousness, but only succeeding in a kind of obstreperous
cordiality and good will, which, together with the hot room, made
him quite dizzy; and his answers were so much at random, that he
sent Fulbert to an examination at Cambridge, and Clement prospecting
in Australia. Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Underwood made their appearance;
but when Felix spoke of getting a cab, Marilda said the carriage was
ordered. Then Alda was explicit about the boxes that were to follow,
but on the whole she was behaving very prettily and unobtrusively.
Marilda kissed her warmly, and detained Felix a moment to say, 'This
will blow over, and then she will come back, unless things have settled
themselves better. If I can do any good, write to me.'
So Alda quitted her adopted home; but the change might be lightened
to her by being handed out of the carriage at the station by a
military-looking figure, who announced that he wanted to see a fellow
at Aldershot, and meant to dine there. It was not his fault that he got
out at Farnborough.