The beautiful November day was drawing to a close as Lady Dartelle and
Hyacinth neared the end of their journey. It had been a lovely day. The
branches of the trees were all bare of leaves, but the sun shone
brightly and the sky was clear.
After the railway journey was ended, as they drove along the country
roads, a faint color came into Millicent's face, faint and exquisite as
the delicate bloom on the inner leaf of a wild rose, and a light shone
in her eyes. New life had come to her. The trees seemed to spread out
their grand branches as though to welcome her. The time was not so long
since she had talked to them in her pretty childlike way, believing they
could hear if not answer her. The life in that dull London house, where
no green leaf was to be seen, faded like a heavy dream. She could have
stretched out her hands to the trees, in fondest welcome. How had she
lived so long without seeing them? A long, deep sigh escaped her. Lady
Dartelle looked up.
"I hope you are not tired, Miss Holte?" she said.
"No, not at all, thank you; but the country looks so beautiful, and the
trees are like dear old friends."
Her ladyship did not look very well pleased; she had not bargained for a
sentimental governess.
"I hope," she returned stiffly, "you will find better friends at Hulme
Abbey than the trees are likely to prove."
Another cry of delight escaped Hyacinth, for, on turning a sharp corner
of the road, the sea lay spread out before them.
"Is Hulme Abbey near the sea?" she asked.
"Almost too near," said Lady Dartelle, "for when the wind blows and the
tide is high we can hear the noise of the surf too plainly--that is the
only fault that any one could possibly find with Hulme. Do you like the
sea, Miss Holte?"
She did not know. She had seen it twice--once when the world was all
fair and she was going to Bergheim, and again when the waves had sobbed
a dull requiem to all her hope and her love. Did she like it? The very
music seemed full of the sorrow of her life. She thought that she would
soon grow to love it with a passion that only poets lavish on the fair
beauties of nature. Then the gray turrets of the Abbey came in sight.
"We are at home," said Lady Dartelle.
Hulme Abbey was neither so spacious nor so magnificent as Queen's Chase.
It was an ancient building of imposing aspect, with square towers and an
old-fashioned gateway, the windows were large, and the exterior of the
house was ornamented with heavy carvings of stone. The building stood in
the midst of the beautiful grounds; a long chestnut avenue at the back
led to the woods, and these last sloped down to the very edge of the
sea.
"We are not many minutes' walk from the shore," said Lady Dartelle, "and
one of your most important duties, Miss Holte, will be to take Miss
Clara down to the sea every day. The walk will be most beneficial to
her."
The lonely, sorrowful heart clung to that idea of the sea; it would be a
companion, almost a friend to her. It had a voice that would speak to
her, that would tell her of her love, lost forever, and that would
whisper of the mysteries of life, so hard to understand. Lady Dartelle
almost wondered at the rapt, sublime expression that came over the
sweet, sad face. In another moment they were in the spacious
entrance-hall, servants bowing, Lady Dartelle proud and patronizing.
"You are tired, and will like to go to your room," she said. "King, show
Miss Holte to her room."
So for that one night the young girl escaped the ordeal she had
dreaded--the introduction to the daughters of Lady Dartelle.
Hyacinth rose early the next morning. She could not control her
impatience to see the sea; it was as though some one she loved were
waiting for her. After a few inquiries from one of the servants, she
found her way to the shore; her whole heart went out in rapture to the
restless waters. She sat down and watched the waves as they rolled in
and broke on the shore. The smell of the salt breeze was delicious, the
grand anthem of the waves was magnificent to hear; and as she sat there
she wept--as she had not wept since her sorrow fell upon her--tears that
eased her heart of its burning load, and that seemed to relieve her
brain of its terrible pressure.
Where was Adrian? The waves murmured his name. "My love, my lost, my
own," they seemed to chant, as the murmur died along the shore. Where
was he? Could it be that these same waves were chanting to him?
"If I could only go to him," she said, "and fall sobbing at his feet,
and tell him how I love him!"
Presently she went back to the house, feeling better than she had felt
for long months, and found, to her great relief, that none of the ladies
were up yet. The servant who had attended to her the night before was in
her room.
"My name is Mary King, miss," she said, "and my lady told me I was to
attend the school-room. Would you like to see it?"
Millicent followed her and the girl led the way to a pretty little room
that overlooked the woods. It was plainly furnished; but there was a
piano, an easel, and plenty of books and flowers.
"This is the school-room, miss," said the maid, "and my lady thought
that, as Miss Clara will be here for only six hours during the day--that
is, for study--it would answer as a sitting-room for you as well."
Hyacinth desired nothing better than the grand old trees to look at. The
maid wondered that she looked from the window instead of round the room.
"I will bring you your breakfast at once, miss," said the girl. "Miss
Clara takes hers with you."
After breakfast Lady Dartelle came in with the written order of studies
in her hand, and then Millicent found that her office was no sinecure.
There was one thing pleasant--every day she must spend two hours out of
doors with the young ladies in order to converse in French and Italian
with them.
Lady Dartelle added that she had one remark to make, and that was that
she had noticed in Miss Holte a tendency to dreaminess--this was always
bad in young people, but especially out of place in a governess. She
trusted that Miss Holte would try and cure herself of it. When the lady
had gone away, the girl looked round the room, she wondered how long she
would have to live in it, and what she would have to pass through. What
sorrowful thoughts, what ghosts of her lost love and lost happiness
would haunt her! But in her wildest dreams she never fancied anything so
strange as that which afterward came to pass.
She found that it was not without reason that she had dreaded the ordeal
of meeting the young ladies. They were not amiable girls. They were
tall, with good figures and high-bred faces--faces that, if they had
taken the trouble to cultivate more amiability and good temper, would
even have been passable, if not comely, but they wore continually an
expression of pride, discontent, and ill-temper. Lady Dartelle, like the
valiant and enterprising lady that she was, did her best with them and
tried to make the most of them. She tried to smooth down the little
angularities of temper--she tried to develop the best traits in their
characters and to conceal their faults. It was a difficult task, and
nothing but the urgency of the case would have given her ladyship
courage. The Misses Dartelle had been for three years in society, and
all prospect of their settlement in life seemed remote. It was a serious
matter to Lady Dartelle. She did not care to pass through life with two
cross old maids hampering her every movement.
Sir Aubrey had listened to his mother's complaints, and had laughingly
tried to comfort her. "I shall come down some time in February," he
said; "and I will bring some of the most eligible bachelors of my
acquaintance with me. If you make good use of the opportunity, you will
surely get one of the girls 'off.' I know how fatal country-house life
is to an idle man."
The prospect was rather a poor one; still Lady Dartelle was not without
hope.
The gentleman who was to win one of the Misses Dartelle was not to be
envied for the exceeding happiness of his lot. They treated the
governess with a mixture of haughty scorn and patronizing disdain which
at times even amused her. She was, as a rule, supremely indifferent, but
there were times when a sarcasm from one of the young ladies brought a
smile to her lips, for the simple reason that it was so very
inappropriate.