THE CROW'S NEST
Take the little pleasures of life, watch the sunsets
and the clouds, the shadows in the streets and the
misty light over our great cities. These bring joy by
the way, and thankfulness to our Heavenly Father.
--ANNE T. CLOUGH.
In a certain sense all are historians.
--CARLYLE.
Perhaps Elizabeth's conscience pricked her that night, or more
probably, being rather a casual and careless young woman, a gentle hint
from Dinah may have had its effect.
Dinah had merely remarked in her quiet way, when she was bidding her
sister good-night in the Red Gallery, that she feared they were not
doing enough for their guest's amusement, and that she thought they had
better ask the vicar to dinner.
"Mr. Herrick is a literary man, and they will get on very well
together," she observed. "Don't you think so, Betty?" And as Elizabeth
did think so, and had no objection to offer, Dinah said that Johnson
should take a note round the following morning.
Elizabeth felt a twinge of compunction as she closed her bedroom door;
she was by no means given to introspection, but "conscience, that makes
cowards of us all," told her that she had not been quite gracious to
Mr. Herrick that evening.
"It was too bad of me not to sing to him," she said to herself, as she
recalled his disappointed look. "I was not so very tired after all; it
was just a fit of laziness, and--" but here Elizabeth checked herself
abruptly--self-examination is sometimes embarrassing.
"I will try and make up for it to-morrow," she thought; "he is such a
good fellow, and we owe him so much;" and she was still in this
complaisant mood when she came down to breakfast.
Even her outward garb was improved: she wore a fresh and extremely
becoming morning dress, which set off her fine figure to advantage; and
before Malcolm had tasted his coffee or looked at his letters she was
challenging him gaily to a game of tennis.
Malcolm was charmed--he had no idea that she played tennis; but her
next proposition rather took off the edge of his enjoyment.
"I know you are a good player, Mr. Herrick," she remarked coolly, "but
it would be too great an exertion this warm weather for you to beat
Cedric and me. Would it not be a good plan," turning to her brother,
"for you to go over to the White Cottage on your bicycle and ask Mr.
Carlyon to make the fourth? We should have a much better game."
"But we decided to ask Mr. Charrington to dinner, Betty," remonstrated
her sister. Then Cedric looked disgusted, and muttered something under
his breath about old Dr. Dryasdust spoiling the fun, but Elizabeth put
him down with a strong hand.
"People's notions of fun differ," she said severely. "I am quite sure
that the vicar and Mr. Herrick will have many interests in common. As
for Mr. Carlyon," with a sudden change of tone, "he and Mr. Charrington
are such good friends that they dine together two or three times a
week, so there is no objection on that score. Well, Cedric," with an
amused look at his bored expression, "do you feel equal to the exertion
of bicycling over to Rotherwood, or shall Johnson go?"
"I suppose I can do the job," returned Cedric in a grumbling tone. "You
may as well give me the vicarage note too, Die." But Dinah, distressed
by her darling's ill-humour, followed him out into the hall to explain
matters more fully.
"You must not be cross about it, dear," she said, with tender anxiety
in her tone. "You see we are bound to entertain a visitor like Mr.
Herrick; he is not just an insignificant person." Cedric's brow
cleared. "He is a clever man, and it will be a compliment to ask a
distinguished scholar like Mr. Charrington to meet him. If the Logans
had been here we should have invited them."
Cedric felt a little ashamed of himself. "I daresay you are right," he
said grudgingly, "but it will be so precious slow. Well, I'm off. Look
after Herrick while I am gone," with a fine assumption of manly
dignity. But he need not have troubled himself; Malcolm was not
disposed to miss him in the least.
As for Elizabeth, her flow of benevolence was not dry yet. "I heard you
tell Dinah last night that you wanted to look over the Crow's Nest,"
she observed to Malcolm as they rose from the breakfast table, "if you
have no letters to write we might stroll down there now."
"Oh, my letters will keep," he returned, with such evident pleasure at
the proposition that Elizabeth went off in search of her hat; not the
hat with the battered brim, mark you, but a charming hat with
cream-coloured lace and delicious yellow poppies, that seemed to match
the dewy freshness of the morning, and which would not disgrace the
gentleman from London; and although she wore no gloves--Elizabeth
always drew the line at gloves--her Indian silk sunshade was worthy of
Bond Street. As the Crow's Nest was within sight of the gates of the
Wood House, they very soon accomplished the distance.
It was a homely little place enough, and the Kestons had described it
pretty accurately. It was a mere cottage, and not a picturesque one
either, for the architecture left much to be desired; but the row of
trees that divided it from the road, amongst which shone the red
berries of the rowans, and the trim, shady lawn, gave it a secluded and
pleasant aspect.
The sitting-room was small but cosy, and there was a fair-sized
dining-room; but Malcolm at once took a fancy to a small upper room
with a window overlooking the road; it had evidently been used as a
dressing-room, for there was a gentleman's wardrobe in it, and a
writing-table and easy-chair.
"I must coax Verity into giving me this room," he said half to himself;
but Elizabeth heard him.
"Verity! is that Mrs. Keston?" she asked. "What a very original name! I
do not believe I ever heard it before."
"I daresay not, but it just suits her. Yea--Verily, as her husband
calls her." Then Elizabeth looked extremely amused.
"What a droll idea! Your friends seem rather out of the common, Mr.
Herrick. I am quite impatient to make their acquaintance. We have a
large circle of friends--an inner and an outer circle--but I am always
glad to add to the number."
"I think you will like Verity," he returned seriously; "she is such a
genuine little soul, and so fresh and original. Oh, I am quite sure you
will take to her." Malcolm spoke in such a decided manner, as though it
were a foregone conclusion that Verity would be admitted to the
privileged inner circle, that Elizabeth's curiosity was strongly
excited.
"You seem rather certain of the fact," she said perversely; "but, as my
sister would tell you, I am not so easily pleased after all."
"Nevertheless you will like Verity," he returned quickly. "Like
attracts like--a transparent, truthful nature, which is absolutely
without guile, will not fail to appeal to you; I already know you well
enough to predict that with certainty."
Elizabeth turned this speech off with a laugh, but her colour rose at
the implied compliment; if like attracts like, as Mr. Herrick said, he
must think her original and guileless too. Something in Malcolm's
tone--in the expression of his dark eyes--confirmed this impression,
and in spite of her stateliness and thirty years the second Miss
Templeton felt a little shy.
"We have not seen the garden-room yet," she said hastily, and then she
led the way downstairs.
The garden lay on the side of the house, and was well kept and full of
flowers; but the temporary building erected by Mr. Logan rather spoiled
the view from the back of the house, though a gay flower-border
surrounded it.
Elizabeth, who had procured the key from the servant, now opened the
door.
It was rather a bare-looking place, as Verity had said; more of a
workshop than a studio, though it was used for both purposes, and, as
both of them knew, good work had been done there; but Mr. Logan, who
had a fine studio in town, was content with rather a primitive state of
things in his country cottage.
It was sufficiently large, though part of it was partitioned off as a
bedroom; the partition, for the sake of airiness, was only eight or
nine feet high, and the furniture was of the plainest description; a
white Indian matting covered the floor, and there were pink Madras
curtains at the window. As Elizabeth pointed out, it could not have
been closed for months, for actually beautiful clusters of roses had
not only festooned the casement, but had found their way into the room,
and hung their sweet heads over the sill, as though they were trying to
reach the floor.
Malcolm declared himself quite enchanted; he had never seen any place
he liked better. There was room for his big bath--his tub he called it
mentally--and a comfortable chair or two, and when he had concluded
these little arrangements to his own satisfaction, he joined Elizabeth,
who was making friends with a great sandy cat, who rejoiced in the
doubtful name of Old Tom.
"I am glad you are so pleased," she said in quite an interested tone,
as they walked down the road again. "I hardly expected that you would
be so easily satisfied. Cedric calls the Crow's Nest a wretched little
hole."
"Oh, he is so young, Miss Templeton--he is at the age when one has
great expectations; we learn to moderate and alter our ideas as we grow
older. Don't you remember Carmen Sylva's charming description of youth
and age? I like it so much."
Elizabeth shook her head. "I am afraid I do not read enough," she said
rather sadly. But he looked at her very kindly.
"She is one of the wisest and wittiest of women," he returned; "and she
is your namesake too."
"Oh yes, I know that."
"When I go back to town may I send you her little book--"Thoughts of a
Queen" it is called?"
Elizabeth, after a moment's hesitation, thanked him and said she would
be glad to see it.
"It is well worth your perusal," he went on, too much engrossed by his
subject to notice her hesitating manner. "But I have not given you her
definition of youth."
"'In youth,' she remarks, 'one is a mediaeval castle, with hidden
nooks, secret chambers, mysterious galleries, trenches, and ramparts;
one becomes afterwards a modern mansion, rich, morocco-leathered,
elegant, stylish, and only open to the select; and ultimately a great
hall open to the whole world, a market, a museum, or a cathedral.'"
"I think I know what she means," returned Elizabeth thoughtfully.
"Youth is so fond of mysteries, and all its castles have endless
winding galleries, that lead to all sorts of curious nooks and corners.
When we grow older our horizon widens--we care more for utility and
less for subterranean passages. What could be better than a market,
where one sells one's best and most durable goods pro bono publico!"
Malcolm was delighted with this answer. Miss Elizabeth Templeton might
not be a profound student of books, but she was certainly an
intelligent and sympathetic woman. They had turned into the woodlands
by this time, and Elizabeth, who was determined to entertain their
guest to the best of her ability, proposed that they should stroll down
to the Pool.
"If you will go on, I will just fetch my work," she observed, "and tell
Dinah where we are going, and then Cedric will join us. He ought to
have been back by now." Then Malcolm, in high good-humour, sauntered
over the rustic bridge and amused himself by looking down on
Elizabeth's wild garden.
"Oh, Betty, what a pity to wear your pretty new hat!" exclaimed Dinah,
looking up from her accounts. She was rather a martinet on the subject
of dress, and had funny little old-fashioned notions of her own; but
Elizabeth, who was ten years younger, was more up-to-date.
"It was part of the programme," she returned solemnly; "and the
sunshade too. I was determined to make myself as nice as possible.
Remember, I trimmed it myself, Die, and as I had the materials it only
cost me five shillings." Here she took it off and looked at it
admiringly, for Elizabeth was rather fond of dress in her way. "My
sailor hat will do for the Pool. I wish you could come with us, dear."
Then, as Dinah shook her head, "Yes, I see, you are busy, so I will not
bother you. Please tell Cedric where we have gone."
Malcolm was still on the little bridge when Elizabeth rejoined him. He
looked regretfully at the sailor hat.
"It does not suit her a bit," he thought. "I wonder a sensible woman
like Miss Templeton does not know what becomes her. Anna would never
have made such a mistake." But Elizabeth, unconscious of this criticism
of her offending head-gear, walked on serenely.
Some of the dogs had followed them, and while Elizabeth worked at a
piece of beautiful embroidery, Malcolm amused himself with throwing
sticks into the pond for their delectation; and as soon as he was weary
of the sport, he stretched himself comfortably on the ground beside her
and began to talk. How it came about neither of them knew, but all at
once Malcolm fell to speaking of his father, and of his lonely boyhood,
and by-and-bye, Elizabeth grew so interested that she laid down her
work, and propping her chin on her hand, gave him her undivided
attention.
Malcolm was very unreserved about his mother. "She is perfectly
unique," he said; "a grand worker, with brains and energy that, if she
had been a man, would have qualified her for a legislator. She has a
gift for organisation. Oh, you would admire her immensely. You are a
worker yourself, Miss Templeton, and that would be a bond of union."
"Would it?" she returned quietly. "I am not quite so sure of that. I
think your mother would rather look down on my small efforts. Please do
not call me a worker, Mr. Herrick. I potter about the village two days
in the week, and teach the children needlework, and tell them stories,
and read to a bedridden old woman or two, but I am afraid on the whole
I waste my time dreadfully," and here she looked at him with one of her
beaming smiles. "I do so enjoy my life, especially in summer--the world
is so beautiful, and one has the birds and flowers, and it is just
lovely to wake to another new day."
"I wish Anna could hear you," he returned; and as she looked a little
puzzled at this, he explained that his mother had an adopted
daughter--a dear, lovable girl, whom he regarded as a sister. And when
he said this. Elizabeth's bright eyes glanced at him a little keenly.
"She is your adopted sister," she said dubiously; "is that not rather a
difficult relationship, Mr. Herrick?"
"Not at all," he returned quickly, for somehow this, remark did not
quite please him. "Anna was so young when she came to us, I think
sometimes that she quite forgets that she is not really my mother's
daughter."
"She must be a great comfort to Mrs. Herrick," observed Elizabeth,
"especially as you are not always with her." There was nothing in this
speech to offend Malcolm's amour propre, nevertheless a dull flush
mounted to his brow.
"Of course I should not have left my mother alone," he said so stiffly
that Elizabeth opened her eyes rather widely; but her keen woman's wits
soon grasped the situation.
"My dear Mr. Herrick, you must not misunderstand me," she said quite
gently. "I am quite sure that you are backward in no filial duty. To
tell you the truth," colouring a little, "I hardly liked to show you
how thoroughly I comprehended things--your home has never been a real
home to you, and though you love each other dearly, you and your mother
are really happier apart. How can two walk together unless they are
agreed?"
"Thank you for saying this," he returned gratefully; "I am sure you
mean what you say."
"Most certainly I do."
"I know it--I am sure of it; you are not one of those people who are
afraid to speak the truth. Forgive me if I seemed put out for a moment,
but something in your manner made me think that you disapproved of the
step I had taken."
"Mr. Herrick, I disapprove--a mere acquaintance who has not even seen
your mother!"
"Ah, it is you who misunderstand now," in a reproachful voice. "Even a
mere acquaintance," dwelling on the word rather pointedly, "can judge
pretty correctly of a man's circumstances. I thought you were saying to
yourself, 'Mr. Herrick must be a selfish sort of man; he is the only
son of a widowed mother, and he has left her roof because her
charitable works bore him to extinction.'"
"No--oh, no!" in a shocked voice. "How can you say such dreadful
things? I shall begin to be afraid of you; and I have never been afraid
of man, woman, or child in my life. Shall I tell you of what I was
really thinking when you turned on me in that crushing manner? I was
thinking of that poor dear girl, and how dull and moped she must be.
Mr. Herrick," rather shyly--Elizabeth never looked more charming or
more irresistible than when she put on this soft, appealing manner--"do
you suppose Miss Sheldon would care to stay with us while you are at
the Crow's Nest. We should so like to have her. You see," her voice
softening still more, "you have done so much for us that we want to
make some return, and it would be such a pleasure."
"You are very kind," he returned, and indeed he was so surprised and
touched by this unexpected speech that he hardly knew how to express
his sense of her thoughtfulness. "It is good of you to think of it, and
nothing would have given Anna greater pleasure, but--"
"You mean she has some other engagement this summer?"
"Yes; it is a great pity. My mother has taken rooms at Whitby for the
middle of next month, and she never goes anywhere without Anna."
"Then it cannot be helped; another time perhaps we shall be more
fortunate." And then, as though she were desirous of changing the
subject, Elizabeth began talking of her own and Dinah's movements, how
they never went away in the spring and summer except for a week or so
in town for shopping and picture-galleries, but filled the Wood House
with relays of guests.
"For the last three years we have gone abroad in the middle of October,
and returned for Christmas and the New Year," she finished, "but we
have made up our minds to remain in England this year. Why, here comes
the truant, and it is actually nearly luncheon time."
Cedric, flushed and panting, flung himself down beside her.