BY THE RIVER.
'And Lancelot look'd, and was perplext in mind;
And being weak in body, said no more.'
_Tennyson._
It was a lovely afternoon, and the sun shone outside the green tracery
of a hornbeam alley in the Deanery garden, leading from the cloister
to the river. Here lay Lancelot, on the long cushion of a sofa, while
Wilmet sat stitching at the last of the set of collars that would
always bring so many recollections. For this was a Saturday afternoon,
and on the Monday Lance was to go to Ewmouth to join Felix, who was
to have his holiday extended another month on that account. Alda, who
had had a quarter's allowance from her uncle, had made this possible;
and Wilmet was doubly gratified by its having been her twin's gift and
thought.
Wilmet would of course go home, and she found herself almost regretting
the close of a time that had of late been very pleasant. She had not
felt, as Geraldine would have done, the romance of living in the old
monastic buildings, in the calm shadow of the grand old minster;
yet something of the soothing of the great solemn quiet rested upon
the spirit that had--since six years old--never known freedom from
responsibility, and--since fifteen--had borne the burthen of household
economies and of school teaching. It was a strange novelty to have
meals provided without care of her own, no shortcomings of servants to
make up, no claimant for her attention save a solitary patient, and
that one with Lance's temper. Wilmet had undergone a good deal from
Alda's clashes with the rest, even Felix's was only a temper well in
hand, and alternate fretfulness and penitence were regarded by her
as part and parcel of Geraldine's ailments; so that it was almost a
surprise that her present convalescent never visited his discomforts
upon her, but was always patient and good-humoured, smiling whenever
he could, like his father before him, as if, according to the pretty
Spanish saying, the sun had shone on his cradle at his birth. His
unselfish nature had made him a little uneasy when with cooler senses
he remembered Clement's hint, while love and instinct alike made him
feel utterly unable to dispense with his motherly sister; but when she
had assured him that nothing could make him leave him as yet, and when
Sister Constance was known to be at Bexley, he threw it from his mind,
and was perfectly happy and contented.
He could still exert no attention, could neither read nor be read to,
nor occupy himself in any way; but he was amused by talk around him,
and companionship was never lacking. Wilmet, whose forte had never been
conversation, found herself in a stream of small talk with inquiring
friends of all degrees in the hierarchy; but was most at her ease when
the female Harewoods were prattling good-humoured inconsequent chatter,
Willie lying on the grass murmuring with Lance, or John lured into
stories of Indian surveying adventures in the cause of the Ordnance
Map. And when she was carried off to have her meals with the family,
she had put herself so entirely at the mercy of circumstances, that she
never seemed scandalised by their crazy unpunctuality, their wonderful
free and easy ways, and customs of putting things to every use but
the right, did not censure Grace or Lucy for dawdling and gossiping
whole mornings away, and took it naturally when their mother inquired
after her eldest brother by the alternate names of Festus and Frank,
and when she mentioned Lance's disaster as his _coup d'état_. And here
was the last of these pleasant afternoons, full of still sweet sounds,
midsummer hum above, the soft ripple of the water close by, the cawing
of the rooks in the Close--all such peace, that her heart quailed as
she looked forward to the din of the High Street at Bexley, and she
strangled a sigh half way up her throat.
The click of the cloister door was heard, and Lance awoke from a
doze, saying, 'Is that Bill?--You've not been here since morning, you
vagabone.'
'See what I've got for you,' said Bill. 'What do you say for that, now?'
For Lance, with sparkling eyes, was rising to his feet. 'Hurrah! Robin
herself! O Robin a Bobbin, isn't this jolly?' and Robina was entangled
in that wonderful embrace peculiar to their own two selves, too
ecstatic for a word between them, though as she received her sister's
kiss, she spoke rather pleadingly--'Cherry and Sister Constance said I
might, Wilmet; and Mrs. Harewood was so very kind as to send Willie to
fetch me to spend Sunday. Do you mind, Wilmet?'
'Mind! Of course she doesn't,' said Lance. 'I was hungry to see you,
Bob.'
'It was very kind in Mrs. Harewood,' said Wilmet. 'I must go and thank
her. Only, first, how is Cherry?'
'Much better. She has been out for a drive with Mr. Froggatt. It will
be all right now you are coming home, Mettie! Oh! and Dr. Lee is
delighted to hear of Lance's going to Ewmouth to make Felix stay longer
there. Oh! if ever anything was so delightful as this place! only I
must see your prize, Lancey.'
As the two children linked their arms round one another's waists to
walk along the alley, all-sufficient to one another, maybe there shot
a little pang across Wilmet's breast. No one had raptures for her. She
was Felix's housekeeper, and represented mother to all; but since Alda
had been taken from her, she had ceased to be any one's perfect equal
and delight. She might be valued, but only like air, or bread, or any
other necessary of life, but she was foremost with no one. Lance had
been everything to her, and she to Lance, for full four weeks; but
she should never awaken the look on his face she had seen for Robin.
Such thoughts as these had never troubled her before; it had been
quite enough to know herself indispensable to all, and there was no
time for sentiment; but this strange time of nursing had inspired a
new sensation of yearning, a softness and melancholy, that she strove
against vainly as weak and unnatural.
The change had not been unperceived by Lance; for as his little sister,
looking at his sunken cheeks, and feeling his thin bony hand, poured
out her pity, he answered, 'I've had rather a jolly time of it of
late; Mettie is so delicious, you can't think how her very voice and
eyes seemed to do me good. I'm sure that the bella-donna lily, cold
hard painted thing, was a mistake; she must have been something much
sweeter. What do you think of a honeysuckle? That's bright red and
white, and its leaves come out when nothing else does.'
'But it trails about, and doesn't stand alone.'
'It has got a good stout hard stem, that can make a bush of its own
when it hasn't anything to twine upon. I say, Robin, that's just what
you women-folk should be, always ready to twine, and yet able to stick
up for yourselves when you've got nothing to hang upon.'
'Well, if Wilmet was the honeysuckle, I'm sure Alda wasn't. O Lance,
it has been so horrid coming home without any one I wanted, and all
so queer and uncomfortable. I would as soon have been at school, or
sooner, for there I had home to think about.'
'The last holidays weren't first-rate,' said Lance.
'No; but then I'd got you!'
'I wish Dr. Manby would prescribe you to come with me,' said Lance.
'It's something to have this little sight! And here! I wanted to give
this back, Lance.'
'Ah!' as he took the key of the violin-case, 'we'll take a look at her,
Robin, to see if she's quite well; but I couldn't make her speak, it
would be like sticking daggers through my head.'
'Poor little key! I looked at it so often when you were so bad, and
grieved to think you had missed all that pleasure. Only it was a
comfort to know you had been so good about it.'
'I am glad you took it, Robin; I know I should have grown idle if I had
had it. Depend on it, 'twas that gave me this year of grace and the
Bishop's prize.'
'Oh! come and show me that! I hope it is not packed up.'
'No; I wanted to take it to show Felix, but Mettie says it is too big,
and would come to grief. What prizes have you, Robin?'
'Three. General good marks, catechism, and history--beautiful books.'
'Then the avenging harpies have forgiven you?'
'Pretty well; and they were very kind when you were ill, and the girls
are much nicer; I am glad we stayed on, except for Angel's sake. Do you
know, Lance, I really am afraid she is going in for naughtiness.'
'Give a dog an ill name--' quoted Lance. 'Is that it?'
'I do believe it is that! She is such a Tom-boy! Fancy! One afternoon,
there was an awful uproar, and her class were all found playing at
races, some riding astride with handkerchiefs round the forms, which
they had named after the real horses; and the others pretending to bet
on them, with their books in their hands, shouting out at the top of
their voices.'
'Go it, Angel,' said Lance, laughing; 'that's the way Clem's sisters
improve the tone of the school.'
Robina still looked distressed, but that was soon forgotten in visiting
Lance's quarters, and admiring his books, peeping respectfully at his
silent violin, and being lionised as far as his strength would permit.
They were hand in hand the whole evening, till he was sent to bed, and
his sisters were claimed by the Harewoods.
The Cathedral was resuming its usual voices on the Sunday morning; and
when the early bell brought Wilmet from her room, she found Lance up
and dressed, his little black gown on, and his trencher cap in his hand.
'That's nice!' he said in admiration, as she advanced in her fresh
white piqué and blue ribbons. 'O Mettie, I'm so glad this isn't my last
time here!' and he added, as she bent over him and kissed him, not
quite able to speak, 'Please, Mettie, I beg your pardon for all the
times I have been tiresome or cross.'
'My dear little boy--' She broke down, and finished with another
kiss, for Robina was at hand, shy in her thankfulness, and clinging
to Lance's hand; but as Will Harewood followed, grave and subdued,
Lance went up to him, and put his arm into his. Mr. Harewood, the
Captain, and Lucy, were all likewise there; but the greetings were
silent, and then Mr. Harewood led them all through the library, and was
followed by the two boys to the sacristy; for though the celebration
was not choral, all those of the choir who were present were always
robed. Wilmet hardly liked not to keep her boy beside her, but she
could not be sorry when she saw the two friends once more heading the
little procession together; and with such happy grave faces, though so
different: one broad, ruddy, sandy; the other fair, wasted, delicate,
the hollow cheeks scarcely more coloured than the white linen, and yet
with a pure fresh air of bright hope and recovery.
The Cathedral was nobly and calmly beautiful in the summer morning;
the sunbeams high up in the slender brilliant windows that crowned the
east, and the voice sounding low and solemn in the distance at the
Altar. To Wilmet and Robina it was a great deal more than the joyous
festival they had last shared in there, even though then they had
exulted in their brother's jubilant notes; and now he scarcely breathed
a faint response, left his book unopened, and knelt in the dreamy
passiveness of one incapable of actions of the mind, but too simply
happy and thankful to doubt of his welcome. In his place, Clement
would have distressed himself and his advisers over this inability
to perform his usual mental exercises of devotion; but Lance never
seemed to question but that he ought to lay himself before the Altar
in thankfulness as soon as he was able, as certain of being welcomed
there, as by the kind hands that shook his in the sacristy.
He came to breakfast afterwards at the Harewoods', to put an end to his
invalid ways; but the clatter soon was too much for him; and he spent
the chief part of the day lying on his bed, able now to follow dreamily
the echoes from the minster, the full glories of which his sisters
were enjoying. There was afterwards a rush of his choir mates to shake
hands with him; and little Dick Graeme, a delicate, sallow, black-eyed
boy, in whom Wilmet believed she recognised the hero of the swans'
eggs, could not be got rid of the whole day. He lived at a farm three
miles off, and had been sent in to take his part on the Sunday; indeed,
he had often been at the door to inquire, but had only been allowed
momentary glimpses of Lance, whom he followed about like a little dog,
till at last, late in the evening, the proposal was started of walking
him down to the river, along which lay the path leading to his home.
It was a charming summer evening when they set forth; the three
Underwoods, the two Harewood brothers, and little Graeme, slowly moving
along, Robina in ecstasies with the loose-strife and forget-me-nots,
and the boys absorbed in fish and water-rats, till Bill, holding Robin
a little back, pointed to a pollard, and told her in a low hoarse
voice, 'That was where I left those verses.'
'There!' Robina tried to measure with her eye the distance, which
looked immense for such a run. She could not speak; but little Dick
turned--
'Ay, 'twas a jolly run in the time. Spyers and I tried it, and both got
blown; but nobody runs like Underwood.'
'Well, it does look a goodish distance,' said Lance. 'And Robin, do you
know, it all came of this fellow being too good a poet. He thought it
was the Tiber, you know.'
'The subject was the Tiber, wasn't it?'
'Ay; and Bill here got to spouting about Horace Cocles till he didn't
know, nor I either, whether we were heathen Romans or not. It was a
mercy he didn't go home in Cocles' costume.'
Bill did not laugh. He seemed to forget everything, bystanders and all,
and threw his arm round his friend's neck. 'O Lancey, don't say a word
more. If you only could guess what--what this month has been like to
me! And now to see you standing here, like your dear old self again!
Oh! if I could only--' and he broke off and rushed away behind the
tree, where they heard him sobbing.
Lance shrugged his shoulders. 'Poor old Bill! he _will_ treat himself
as if he did it on purpose, but he'll be better now he's had it out.
But d'ye see, I can't go no farther now. So you, Dick, be off. Spare
the feelings of your dutiful parents, and get home in Christianable
time.'
'I say, please Underwood, may I have the bed by yours next half?'
'That's not as it pleases Underwood, but Mrs. Drake; but look here,
Graeme, there's a little brat of a new treble coming into our
dormitory. You stand his friend, and speak to Harewood if Bolt takes to
bullying him.'
'But you'll be back?' said the child, his face all consternation.
'I hope so; but for fear of accidents, you know. Good night, Dick, and
thank your mater for those stunning raspberries.'
'That's a good dodge,' said Will Harewood, emerging, 'to keep the
little ape from bullying the little one himself. But you will be able
to come back, Lance; 'tis as dull as ditch-water without you.'
'I shall be glad enough to come back,' said Lance, 'and make the most
of this year. I didn't know how I cared for this place. There's nothing
like it!' and he leant against a tree, looking back at the Cathedral,
where the sunbeams were 'weaving a parting crown' for the tall tower,
and the soft grey of the exquisite stone-work of the chapter-house
contrasted with the fresh green of the trees, rising up from the
sparkling river and emerald meadows. Presently he burst out, 'You
beautiful old thing, and did you hush your grand glorious old voice
only for me? I should like to be your own, and to serve you for ever!'
The other two felt a little awed at the outburst, and possibly Lance a
little ashamed, for he suddenly started from his tree trunk, crying,
'I'm sure we ought to go home. However, there are Jack and Mettie on
beyond ever so far.' And he elevated his voice in a coo-ee, after what
he believed to be Australian fashion; but his weakness prevailed, and
he laughed at his own want of power to shout much above his breath.
'You do it, Bill.'
'Not I! Coo-ee indeed? 'Tis coo-coo there, river and moonlight and all.'
At one and the same moment, Lance exclaimed, 'Jack and Mettie! Thunder
and ages!' and Robina, 'For shame, Willie!' while that personage cut
a caper, at once expressive of affirmation and amusement at their
surprise.
'After all,' sagaciously observed Lance, 'I'm not so much surprised. I
think I've made a pretty good Cupid.'
'You believe it, then?' cried Robina.
'Bless you,' affirmed Willie, 'we've been roasting Jack about it for
the last fortnight--only the pater was so awfully afraid of your
sister's hearing it, that he said any one who breathed the ghost of a
joke near her should be shipped off to old Aunt Grace that instant.'
'Well, they have my consent and blessing,' said Lance.
'Amen,' responded his friend.
'Ho!' continued Lance, 'that's the meaning of old W. W. being so jolly.
I wondered whether it was only that I thought so because I had nothing
to do but to look at her.'
'Oh, you know she is a real true beauty and no mistake,' said Bill,
beginning to feel a personal pride in her; 'there's Miles raving about
her, and every one runs about saying, "Have you seen little Underwood's
handsome sister?" Half the folks that came to ask after you did it to
get a look at her; and if she stayed a week longer, she might have a
dozen offers, only luckily Jack cut in first.'
'Well, I'm glad she is even with Alda,' was Lance's next sentiment.
'That's the one that is booked for the Red Indian you converted, ain't
it?' asked Bill. 'Fact, Robina; we heard a new fellow was coming who
had converted a Cherokee, and that the Bishop had christened him in
his war paint and feathers. Mrs. Shapcote sent out invitations to a
missionary tea in honour of him.'
'What, of the Cherokee?'
'No, no, of the little brute of a missionary chap, and we made up our
minds to tar and feather him before he converted us; but long before
we had found out which of the new trebles was the model Christian, old
Shapcote had caught us two pitching into one another, because I said
Bexley was a snobbish place full of pots and pans.'
'And that founded your friendship?'
'No, not quite, for we had a worse fight because I shut his Bible up in
his face when he tried to look over the Lessons in the Cathedral.'
'Why, you all do,' said Robina.
'Yes, now; but before Nixon came we were a horrid set of little
ruffians. Do you remember, Lance, how Roper offered you a bull's-eye in
the Cathedral, and thrashed you afterwards because you wouldn't have
it?'
'O Lance! but that was persecution!' cried Robina. 'Who would have
thought you went through things like that?'
'Ay,' said Bill, 'you believed in the little cherub chorister boys,
that sing and look out of their great violet eyes, till they die of
declines.'
'Ah!' said Lance, who was leaning on his arm rather wearily, 'Jack will
do for himself if he tells Wilmet her eyes are violet; it is like a red
rag to a bull.'
'Yes,' said Robina, 'she says nobody ever had eyes the colour of
violets, and they would be hideous if they were.'
'I have seen them,' said Willie, gravely.
'Oh! where?' cried Robina. 'Darker blue than Edgar's?'
'It's generally only one at a time.'
'After a cricket match, eh?' suggested Lance.
'But, depend upon it,' said Bill, while Robina was recovering her
laughing disgust, 'he may tell her her eyes are any colour he pleases
by this time.'
'How do you know that?' sharply protested Robin; 'as if she would care
for him more than for all of us, who can't spare her either!'
'I thought you were thick and plenty up the country?'
'Not of that sort,' said Lance.
'I don't believe it,' insisted Robina; 'why, she had never seen him a
few weeks ago; she can't have had time to get to like him.'
'That's your simplicity,' said Bill. 'Now ain't that oracular--I mean
ocular--demonstration? There they are, very moral of people making
fools of themselves in books.'
'I wish they'd have done with it, then,' sighed Lance; 'my legs won't
hold out much longer.'
'Yes, you must go in,' said Robin, bringing her sturdy shoulders for
his other arm to rest on.
'But those two?' said Lance. 'Some one must stay to make it
respectable. Don't laugh, you vagabond, you shake up the marrow of my
bones; I'm her brother, and bound to see to her.'
'I'll stay out with Willie if that will make it right,' said Robina;
'only you must go to bed, and you have to be up so early too.'
So they saw him to the Bailey door, beyond which he declined further
assistance, saying he could tumble into bed alone, and leaving them to
their pleasant task of making propriety.
It was made after this sort. Bill delivered himself of a deep sigh, and
observed, 'Well! if she's done for, I suppose I must take up with you;
and after all, you're the jolliest.'
'I shall never be _jolie_, like Wilmet, if that's what you mean,' said
Robina, not quite understanding whether it were jest or earnest.
'Well, if you ain't a regular stunner like her, it doesn't much matter.
I never _did_ see a face that I liked better than your round one, and I
know I shall like it more and more. Won't you have me, Robina, one of
these days?'
'O Willie! oughtn't one to wait till we are old enough to think about
it?'
'I don't see why. I shall always be thinking I'm working for you, and I
don't see why you shouldn't think the same of me. Won't you?' again he
repeated. 'At least, of course I shall do all the work for you.'
'Oh no! I should not like that. I had rather be doing something for
you, Willie. Look here, I am learning all I can now, and when I go
out--'
'Go out?'
'For a governess.'
'Murther! I'll hinder that!'
'But, Willie, you can't make a fortune in five years, and I shall go
out at eighteen. I think I shall begin the fortune soonest;' and she
laughed merrily.
'Mother didn't make a fortune.'
'I didn't mean that exactly; but I'm learning all the superior
branches, and if I got a hundred a year! Think of that, Will! If I went
on with that till you are a clergyman and have a living, how nice it
would be! There would be plenty to give away; and if we were poor, I
would take girls to teach.'
'Do you think I shall ever let you do all the work that way?' said
Will, strong in boyhood's infinite possibilities. 'I don't know how
it's to be, but I'll keep you out of slaving, though you're a dear girl
to think of it. Any way, Robin, you and I will hold together--always.'
'I am sure I shall never like anybody half so much,' said Robin.
'Shall we break a sixpence and keep the halves? That's the thing, ain't
it? I believe I've got one--or fourpence, which is all the same.'
'No, no,' said Robina, backing; 'I don't think Mettie would like it. It
doesn't seem right.'
'But aren't you in earnest, Robin?'
'Oh yes, indeed, indeed I am;' from the depths of a very earnest
childish heart that little knew to what it pledged itself.
'And so am I! I'll never care for any one else, Robina--never.'
'Nor I, William. Here they come!'
The other two had not got near so far, though Captain Harewood was
talking, and Wilmet listening, as would never have been the case
without the influence Willie asserted; but the special charm that
enchained Wilmet was entirely unapprehended by her, till just as the
first star brightened, and the hues faded from the landscape, she
bethought her of her patient, and perceived that he had gone in. 'How
late it must be! I must go and see after him. I hope he is equal to the
journey.'
'I will come and bring you an account of him on my way home, if I may.'
'Oh, thank you; but it is taxing your goodness too--too much.'
'Cannot you believe how glad I am to have a good excuse?' and the
tone gave Wilmet a sudden thrill, so that she answered not; and he
continued, 'I am going to beg leave to be sometimes at Bexley.'
'When Felix is at home,' faltered Wilmet.
'I can hardly afford to wait. My time at home is so short. I shall, _I_
hope, make friends with him to-morrow, and perhaps you will neither of
you forbid me to come again. I am asking nothing now, only opportunity
to try to make you--'
'Oh, don't!' hurriedly broke in Wilmet, standing still in consternation.
'Nay,' he said in a pleading voice, 'I know it would be presumption to
think so short an acquaintance could suffice, but you see I have so
little time, and all I want is leave to use it in coming to see you.'
'Oh, don't!' she repeated. 'Indeed you had better not. It would be
only pain. I couldn't! and I can't have Felix worried;' and there was
a startled sob in her voice; but he answered with the strength and
sweetness that had upheld her in Lance's most suffering moments.
'I would not distress you or Felix for more than words can utter! I
would not have breathed a hint of this most earnest wish of my heart
till you had had some preparation, if it were not so impossible
otherwise to have any chance of being with you and striving--'
'Please,' entreated Wilmet, 'that is just what should be avoided; it
can never come to anything, and the sooner it is stopped the better.'
'Why should it never come to anything?' he asked, encouraged by
detecting tears in her voice.
'Because you know--no, you don't know, or you never could think of such
a thing--how wrong and impossible it would be for me!'
'No, I don't know. That is what I want to have the opportunity of
knowing.'
'I can tell you before,' she answered, faintly. 'Oh, if you would but
take my word for it, it would save so much--'
'No, that I cannot do,' he repeated. 'I must see for myself your
preciousness at home.'
She broke in again. 'Please, please, I'm saying what I ought not; but
it is to hinder distress. Don't want to let us get to like each other
any better, for as yet it can't be more than what could be got over,
and it is only making pain to let it grow.'
'That I deny. So far as I am concerned, the thing is done. If you
wanted to save me that pain, you should have turned me out the moment I
saw you call the boy back to life. A month like this is not so easily
got over.'
Wilmet drooped her head, and made no answer.
'So, since you see,' he continued, 'you will spare me nothing by
holding me aloof, will you not let me come and gladden myself while
I may in your presence? And then when my time is up it may be more
possible to judge--' (there was a faint 'Oh no,' but he heeded it not)
'--whether you can bear such an ugly fellow enough to let him look to
the time when home claims may be less pressing. I look for no answer. I
only want to be able to ask for one three months hence, and I shall beg
your brother to put it into my power so to do.'
'Ah! but to have Felix disturbed and worried is just what must not be.
It has made him ill already; and if he thought--'
'I promise not to harass him,' said Captain Harewood, gently. 'You may
trust me to take care that what I shall say will not cause him any very
trying perplexity.'
'If you knew--' sighed Wilmet.
'I hope to know,' he replied. 'I do know enough already to be
aware that you stand in no common relation to the rest; and if you
have my heart, Wilmet, it must follow that somehow I share in your
self-devotion. Do not fear my trying to make you less yourself. I want
not to take you away from your burthens, but to share them.'
'Yes, you--that is your goodness; but would it be right in us?' she
faltered.
'Leave your brother and me to judge of that,' he said.
They were already at the Bailey door, in the shadow of the buildings,
the flood of moonlight lying on the tower above, and one little
mysterious lamp under the deep brow of the archway of the passage.
No more passed but one 'good-night' from each; he had not even seen
her face, under her shady hat; while she hastened to her little room,
glad to ascertain that Lance was fast asleep, and with a rush of new
sensations bursting on her, against which she was strengthening all the
dykes of her resolute nature. 'He--he--that it should be he! how good!
how generous! how kind! Oh, it would be so happy! It _will_ make me
happy that he only just thought of it; but it won't do, it is no use.
I'm not in love with him; I won't be, I'm not, I'm not!'
And as ardently as Wilmet had ever prayed for Lance's life and reason
by that little bed, did she beseech not to be tempted to desert her
duties; and all night she lay between sleep and waking, ever repeating
to herself. 'I'm not in love, I'm not, I'm not!'