The Enchantments
"It seems a shame," the Walrus said,
"To play them such a trick,
After we've brought them out so far,
And made them trot so quick."
The carpenter said nothing, but
"The butter's spread too thick."--LEWIS CARROLL
A telegram arrived from Frank, in the midst of the preparations on
Wednesday, announcing that 'he was all right, and should be at
Hazlitt's Gate at 8.10 p.m.'
At 6.30 children of all sizes, with manes of all colours, were
arriving, and were regaled in the dining-room by Anne, assisted by
Jenny and Charlie. Anne had a pretty pink colour in her cheeks, her
flaxen locks were bound with green ribbons, and green adorned her
white dress, in which she had a gracious, lily-like look of
unworldly purity. She thoroughly loved children, was quite equal to
the occasion, and indeed enjoyed it as much as the recent Christmas-
tree in the village school.
Such of Cecil's guests as were mothers for the most part came with
their children; but Lady Tyrrell, her sister, and others, who were
unattached, arrived later, and were shown to the library, where she
entertained them on the specified refreshment, biscuits and coffee,
and enthroned Mrs Tallboys in the large arm-chair, where she looked
most beautiful and gorgeous, in a robe of some astonishing sheeny
sky-blue, edged with paly gold, while on her head was a coronal of
sapphire and gold, with a marvellous little plume. The cost must
have been enormous, and her delicate and spirituelle beauty was
shown to the greatest advantage; but as the audience was far too
scanty to be worth beginning upon, Cecil, with a sigh at the folly
of maternal idolatry, went to hunt up her ladies from gazing at the
babyish amusements of their offspring; and Miss Moy, in spite of her
remonstrance, jumped up to follow her; while Mrs. Duncombe, the only
_good_ mother in this new sense, remained, keeping guard lest
curiosity, and the echo of piano music, which now began to be heard,
should attract away any more of the ladies.
Cecil was by no means prepared for the scene. The drawing-room was
crowded--chiefly indeed with ladies and children, but there was a
fair sprinkling of gentlemen--and all had their faces turned towards
the great glass doors opening into the conservatory, which was
brilliantly lighted and echoing with music and laughter. Cecil
tried to summon some of the ladies of her own inviting, announcing
that Mrs. Tallboys was arrived; but this appeared to have no effect.
"Yes, thank you," was all she heard. Penetrating a little farther,
"Mrs. Tallboys is ready." "Thank you, I'll come; but my little
people are so anxious to have me with them."--"Mrs. Tallboys is
waiting!" to the next; who really did not hear, but only responded,
"Did you ever see anything more charming?"
By this time Cecil could see over the heads of the front rank of
children. She hardly knew the conservatory. All the veteran
camellia and orange-trees, and a good many bay and laurel boughs
besides, were ranged along the central alley, gorgeous with fairy
lamps and jewels, while strains of soft music proceeded from some
unseen quarter. "Very pretty!" said Cecil, hastily, trying another
of her intended guests with her intelligence. "Really--yes,
presently, thank you," was the absent answer. "There is some
delightful mystery in there."
Cecil found her attempts were vain, and was next asked, as one of
the household, what delicious secret was going on there; and as it
hurt her feelings to be left out, she pressed into the conservatory,
with some vague intention of ordering Anne, if not Rosamond, to
release her grown-up audience, and confine their entertainment to
the children; but she found herself at once caught by the hand by a
turbaned figure like a prince in the Arabian Nights, who, with a low
salaam, waved her on.
"No, thank you. I'm looking for--"
But retreat was impossible, for many were crowding up in eager
curiosity; moreover, a muslin bandage descended-on her eyes.
"Don't!" she expostulated; "I'm not at play--I'm--" but her words
were lost.
"Hush! the Peri's cave is near,
No one enters scatheless here;
Lightly tread and lowly bend,
Win the Peri for your friend,"
sung a voice to the mysterious piano accompaniment; and Cecil found
both hands taken, and was forced to move on, as she guessed the
length of the conservatory, amid sounds of suppressed laughter that
exceedingly annoyed her, till there was a pause and repetition of
the two last lines with an attempt to make her obey them. She was
too impatient and angry to perceive that it would have been much
better taste to enter into the humour of the thing; and she only
said with all her peculiar cold petulance, just like sleet, "Let me
go, if you please; I am engaged. I am waited for."
"Peri gracious,
She's contumacious;
Behold, every hair shall bristle
When she hears the magic whistle!"
and a whistle, sharp, long, and loud, sounded behind her, amid peals
of merriment. She turned sharply round, but still the whistle was
behind her, and rang out again and again, till she was half
deafened, and wholly irate; while the repetition of
"Bend, bend, lowly bend,
Win the Peri for your friend,"
forced on her the conviction that on no other condition should she
be set free, though the recognition of Terry's voice made the
command doubly unpalatable, and as she made the stiffest and most
reluctant of courtesies, a voice said,
"Homage done, you may be
Of this merry company;"
and with a last blast of the whistle the bandage was removed, and
she found herself in the midst of a half circle of laughing children
and grown people; in front of her a large opening, like a cavern,
hung with tiny lamps of various colours, in the midst of which stood
the Peri, in a Persian pink robe, white turban, and wide white
trousers, with two oriental genies attendant upon her.
A string was thrust into Cecil's hand, apparently fastened to her,
and accounting for some sharp pulls she had felt during the
whistling. She drew it in front in sharp haste, to be rid of the
obnoxious instrument; but instead of a whistle, she found in her
hand a little dust-pan and brush, fit for a baby-house, drawn
through a ring, while the children eagerly cried, "What have you
got? What have you got?"
"Some nonsense. I do not approve of practical jokes," began Cecil;
but the song only replied,
"Away, away,
In the cave no longer stay;
Others come to share our play;"
and one of the genies drew her aside, while another blindfolded
victim was being introduced with the same rites, only fare more
willingly. The only way open to here was that which led to the
window of the dining-room, where she found Anne with the children
who had had their share, and were admiring their prizes. Anne tried
to soothe her by saying, "You see every one is served alike. They
thought it would be newer than a tree."
"Did you mean to _give_ me _this_?" asked a little girl, in whose
hands Cecil had thrust her dust-pan, without a glance at it.
"Oh the ring!" said Anne. "You must keep that, Mrs. Poynsett
thought you would like it. It is a gem--some Greek goddess, I
think."
"Is this her arrangement?" asked Cecil, pointing to the dust-pan.
"Oh no! she knew nothing about that, nor I; but you see every one
has something droll. See what Mr. Bowater has!"
And Herbert Bowater showed that decidedly uncomplimentary penwiper,
where the ass's head declares "There are two of us;" while every
child had some absurdity to show; and Miss Moy's shrieks of delight
were already audible at a tortoise-shell pen-holder disguised as a
hunting-whip.
"I must go to my friends," said Cecil, vouchsafing no admiration of
the ring, though she had seen enough to perceive that it was a
beautifully engraved ruby; and she hurried back to the library, but
only to find all her birds flown, and the room empty! Pursuing them
to the drawing-room, she saw only the backs of a few, in the
rearmost rank of the eager candidates for admission to the magic
cave.
Lady Tyrrell alone saw her, and turned back from the eager
multitude, to say in her low, modulated voice, "Beaten, my dear.
Able strategy on la belle mere's part."
"Where's Mrs. Tallboys?"
"Don't you see her blue feather, eagerly expectant? Just after you
were gone, Edith Bowater came in, and begged us to come and see the
conservatory lighted up; and then came a rush of the Brenden
children after their aunt, exclaiming wildly it was delicious--
lights, and a fairy, and a secret, and every one got something, if
they were ever so old. Of course, after that there was nothing but
to follow the stream."
"It is a regular plot for outwitting us! Rosamond is dressed up for
the fairy. They are all in league."
"Well, we must put a good face on it for the present," said Lady
Tyrrell. "Don't on any account look as if you were not in perfect
accordance. You can show your sentiments afterwards, you know."
Cecil saw she must acquiesce, for Mrs. Tallboys was full in the
midst. With an infinitely better grace than her hostess, she
yielded herself to the sports, bowed charmingly to the Peri, whirled
like a fairy at the whistling, and was rewarded with a little enamel
padlock as a brooch, and two keys as ear-rings; indeed she
professed, with evident sincerity, that she was delighted with these
sports of the old country, and thought the two genies exquisite
specimens of the fair, useless, gentle English male aristocracy.
Mrs. Duncombe, too, accepted the inevitable with considerable spirit
and good-humour, though she had a little passage-at-arms with
Julius; when showing him the ivory card-case that had fallen to her
lot, she said, "So this is the bribe! Society stops the mouth of
truth."
"That is as you choose to take it," he said.
"Exactly. When we want to go deep into eternal verities you silence
us with frivolous din and dainty playthings for fear of losing your
slaves."
"I don't grant that."
"Then why hinder an earnest discussion by all this hubbub?"
"Because this was not the right place or time."
"It never is the right time for the tyrants to let their slaves
confer, or to hear home-truths."
"On the contrary, my curiosity is excited. I want to hear Mrs.
Tallboys' views."
"Then when will you dine with us? Next Wednesday?"
"Thank you. Wednesday has an evening service."
"Ah! I told you it was never the right time! Then Thursday? And
you'll trust your wife with us?"
"Oh yes, certainly."
"It is a bargain, then? Seven o'clock, or there will be no time."
Julius's attention suddenly wandered. Was not a whisper pervading
the room of a railway accident? Was not Frank due by that night's
train?
There were still so many eager to visit the magic cave, that Julius
trusted his wife would remain there sheltered from the report; Jenny
Bowater was behind a stand of trees, acting orchestra; but when
Terry came to the outskirts of the forest in search of other knights
of the whistle, Julius laid a hand on him, and gave instructions in
case any rumour should reach Rosamond to let her know how vague it
was, tell her that he was going to ascertain the truth, and beg her
to keep up the game and cause no alarm.
Next encountering Anne, he begged her to go to his mother and guard
her from any alarm, until there was some certainty.
"Can't we send all these people away?" she asked.
"Not yet. We had better make no unnecessary disturbance. There
will be time enough if anything be amiss. I am going down to
Hazlitt's Gate."
Anne was too late. Charlie had not outgrown the instinct of rushing
to his mother with his troubles; and he was despairingly telling the
report he had heard of a direful catastrophe, fatal to an unknown
quantity of passengers, while she, strong and composed because he
gave way, was trying to sift his intelligence. No sooner did he
hear from Anne that Julius was going to the station, than he started
up to accompany him--the best thing he could do in his present
state. Hardly, however, had he closed the door, before he returned
with fresh tears in his eyes, leading in Eleonora Vivian, whom he
had found leaning against the wall outside, white and still, scarce
drawing her breath.
"Come," he said; and before she knew what he was doing, she was at
Mrs. Poynsett's side. "Here, mother," he said, "take her." And he
was gone.
Mrs. Poynsett stretched out her arms. The hearts of the two women
who loved Frank could not help meeting. Eleonora sank on her knees,
hiding her face on the mother's breast, with two tender arms clasped
round her.
Anne was kneeling too, but she was no longer the meek, shy stranger.
Now, in the hour of trouble, she poured forth, in a voice fervent
and sweet, a prayer for protection and support for their beloved
one, so that it might be well with him, whatever might be his
Heavenly Father's Will.
As she paused, Mrs. Poynsett, in a choked voice, said, "Thank you,
dear child;" when there were steps in the hall. Anne started up,
Lenore buried her face on Mrs. Poynsett's bosom, the mother clasped
her hands over her convulsively, then beheld, as the door opened, a
tall figure, with a dark bright face full of ineffable softness and
joy. Frank himself, safe and sound, with his two brothers behind
him. They stayed not to speak, but hastened to spread the glad
tidings; while he flung himself down, including both his mother and
Lenore in one rapturous embrace, and carrying his kiss from one to
the other--conscious, if no one else was, that this first seal of
his love was given in his mother's arms.
Lenore did indeed extricate herself, and stand up as rosy red as she
had been pale; but she had no room for any thought beyond his
mother's trembling "Not hurt, my dear?"
"Not hurt! Not a scratch! Thank God! Oh! thank God!" answered
Frank, quivering all over with thankfulness, though probably far
more at the present joy than the past peril.
"Yes--oh, thanks for His mercy!" echoed Anne, giving fervent hand
and tearful cheek to the eager salutation, which probably would have
been as energetic to Clio or old Betty at that moment!
"But there's blood on your wristband," cried the mother. "You are
hurt!"
"No; it's not mine. I didn't know it. It is from the poor fellow I
helped to carry into the public-house at Knoll, just this side
Backsworth, a good deal hurt, I'm afraid. Something had got on the
lines, I believe. I was half asleep, and knew nothing till I found
ourselves all crushed up together in the dark, upside-down, my feet
above my head. There was but one man in my carriage, and we didn't
get foul of one another, and found we were all right, when we
scrambled out of the window. So we helped out the others, and found
that, besides the engineer and stoker--who I don't suppose can live,
poor fellows!--there was only this man much damaged. Then, when
there seemed no more to be done, I took my bag and walked across
country, to reach home before you heard. But oh, this is worth
anything!"
He had to bend down for another embrace from his mother whose heart
was very full as she held his bright young healthful face between
her hands, though all she said was, "You have walked eleven miles
and more! You must be half starved!--Anne, my dear, pray let him
have something. He can eat it here."
"I'll see," said Anne, hastening away.
"Oh, don't go, Lenore," cried Frank, springing up. "Stay, I've not
seen you!--Mother, how sweet of you! But I forgot! You don't know!
I was only waiting till I was through."
"I understand, my dear boy."
"But how? How did you find out? Was it only that you knew she was
the precious darling of my heart? and now you see and own why,"
cries Frank, almost beside himself with excitement and delight.
"It was Lady Tyrrell who told me," said Mrs. Poynsett, sympathizing
too much with the lovers to perceive that her standpoint of
resistance was gone from her.
"Yes," said Lenore. "She knew of our walk, and questioned me so
closely that I could not conceal anything without falsehood."
"After she met me at Aucuba Villa?" asked Frank.
"Yes. Did you tell her anything?"
"I thought she knew more than I found afterwards that she did," said
Frank; "but there's no harm done. It is all coming now."
"She told my father," said Eleonora, sadly, "and he cannot
understand our delay. He is grieved and displeased, and thinks I
have not been open with him."
"Oh! that will be all right to-morrow," said Frank. "I'll have it
out with a free heart, now there's no fear but that I have passed;
and I've got the dearest of mothers! I feel as if I could meet him
if he were a dozen examiners rolled into one, instead of the good
old benevolent parent that he is! Ha! Anne--Susan--Jenkins--thank
you--that's splendid! May I have it here? Super-excellent! Only
here's half the clay-pit sticking to me! Let me just run up and
make myself decent. Only don't let her run away."
Perhaps Clio would have scorned the instinct that made a Charnock
unable to enjoy a much-needed meal in the presence of mother and of
love till the traces of the accident and the long walk had been
removed. His old nurse hurried after--ostensibly to see that his
linen was at hand, but really to have her share of the petting and
congratulation; and Lenore stood a little embarrassed, till Mrs.
Poynsett held out her arms, with the words, "My dear child!" and
again she dropped on her knee by the couch, and nestled close in
thankful joy.
Presently however, she raised herself, and said sadly, almost
coldly, "I am afraid you have been surprised into this."
"I must love one who so loves my boy," was the ardent answer.
"I couldn't help it!" said the maiden, again abandoning herself to
the tenderness. "Oh! it is so good of you!"
"My dear, dear daughter!"
"Only please give me one mother's kiss! I have so longed for one."
"Poor motherless child! My sweet daughter!"
Then after a pause Eleonora said, "Indeed, I'll try to deserve
better; but oh! pray forgive me, if I cost him much more pain and
patience than I am worth."
"He thinks you well worth anything, and perhaps I do," said Mrs
Poynsett, who was conquered, won over, delighted more than by either
of the former brides, in spite of all antecedents.
"Then will you always trust me?" said Eleonora, with clasped hands,
and a wondrous look of earnest sincerity on her grave open brow and
beautiful pensive dark blue eyes.
"I _must_, my dear."
"And indeed I don't think I could help holding to _him_, because he
seems my one stay and hope here; and now I know it is all right with
you, indeed it is such happiness as I never knew."
She laid her head down again in subdued joy and rest: but the pause
was broken by Frank's return; and a moment after, in darted the Peri
in her pink cashmere costume, with a glow transforming her usually
colourless face. "Dear, dear Frank, I'm so glad!" she cried,
bestowing her kiss; while he cried in amazement, "Is it Rose? Is
there a fancy ball?"
"Only Aladdin's Cave. I'm just out of it; and while Jenny is
keeping up games, and Edith is getting up a charade, I could dash in
to see that Frank was all there, and more too. The exam, is safe,
eh?"
"I trust so," said Frank; "the list will not come just yet; but I am
told I am certain of a pass--indeed, that I stand high as to
numbers."
"That's noble!--Now, Mrs. Poynsett, turn him out as soon as he has
eaten his dinner. We want any one who can keep up a respectable
kind of a row. I say, will you two do Ferdinand and Miranda playing
at chess? You look just like it."
"Must we go?" asked Frank, reluctantly; and there was something in
the expression of his face, a little paler than usual, that reminded
his mother that the young man had for the first time seen sudden and
violent death that day, and that though his present gladness was so
great, yet that he had gone through too much in body and mind for
the revels of the evening not either to jar, or to produce a
vehement reaction, if he were driven into them. So she answered by
pleading the eleven miles' walk; and the queen of the sports was
merciful, adding, "But I must be gone, or Terry will be getting up
his favourite tableau of the wounded men of Clontarf, or Rothesay,
or the Black Bull's Head, or some equally pleasing little incident."
"Is it going on well?" asked Mrs. Poynsett.
"Sweetly! Couldn't be better. They have all amalgamated and are in
the midst of the 'old family coach,' with Captain Duncombe telling
the story. He is quite up to the trick, and enjoys turning the
tables on his ladies."
"And Camilla?" asked Lenore, in a hesitating, anxious tone
"Oh! she's gone in for it. I think she is the springs! I heard her
ask where you were, and Charley told her; so you need not be afraid
to stay in peace, if you have a turn that way. Good-bye; you'd
laugh to see how delighted people are to be let off the lecture."
And she bent over Lenore with a parting kiss, full of significance
of congratulation.
She returned, after changing her dress, to find a pretty fairy
tableau, contrived by the Bowater sisters, in full progress, and
delighting the children and the mothers. Lady Vivian contrived to
get a word with her as she returned.
"Beautifully managed, Lady Rosamond. I tell Cecil she should enjoy
a defeat by such strategy."
"It is Mrs. Poynsett's regular Christmas party," said Rosamond, not
deigning any other reply.
"I congratulate her on her skilful representatives," said Lady
Tyrrell. "May I ask if we are to see the hero of the day? No?
What! you would say better employed? Poor children, we must let
them alone to-night for their illusion, though I am sorry it should
be deepened; it will be only the more pain by and by."
"I don't see that," said Rosamond, stoutly.
"Ah! Lady Rosamond, you are a happy young bride, untaught what is
l'impossible." Rosamond could not help thinking that no one
understood it better than she, as the eldest of a large family with
more rank and far more desires than means; but she disliked Lady
Tyrrell far too much for even her open nature to indulge in
confidences, and she made a successful effort to escape from her
neighbourhood by putting two pale female Fullers into the place of
honour in front of the folding doors into the small drawing-room,
which served as a stage, and herself hovered about the rear, wishing
she could find some means of silencing Miss Moy's voice, which was
growing louder and more boisterous than ever.
The charade which Rosamond had expected was the inoffensive, if
commonplace, Inspector, and the window she beheld, when the curtain
drew up, was, she supposed, the bar of an inn. But no; on the board
were two heads, ideals of male and female beauty, one with a waxed
moustache, the other with a huge chignon, vividly recalling Mr.
Pettitt's Penates. Presently came by a dapper professor, in blue
spectacles and a college cap, who stood contemplating, and indulging
in a harangue on entities and molecules, spirit and matter,
affinities and development, while the soft deep brown eyes of the
chignoned head languished, and the blue ones of the moustached one
rolled, and the muscles twitched and the heads turned till, by a
strong process of will explained by the professor, they bent their
necks, erected themselves, and finally started into life and the
curtain fell on them with clasped hands!
It rose to show the newly-animated pair, Junius Brutus and Barberina
his wife, at the breakfast table, with a boar's head of brawn before
them, while the Lady Barberina boldly asserted her claims to the
headship of the house. Had she not lately been all head?
The pathetic reply was, "Would it were so still, my dear. All head
and no tongue, like our present meal."
The lady heaved up the boar's head to throw at him, and the scene
closed.
Next, Brutus was seen awkwardly cleaning his accoutrements, having
enlisted, as he soliloquized, to escape from woman.
Enter a sergeant with a rich Irish brogue, and other recruits,
forming the awkward squad. The drill was performed with immense
spirit, but only one of the soldiers showed any dexterity; but while
the sergeant was upholding him as 'the very moral of a patthern to
the rest,' poor Brutus was seized with agonizing horror at the
recognition of Barberina in this disguise!
"Why not?" she argued. "Why should not woman learn to use the arms
of which man has hitherto usurped the use?"
Poor Brutus stretched out his arms in despair, and called loudly for
the professor to restore him to his original state of silent
felicity in the barber's window.
"Ye needn't do that, me boy," quoth the sergeant with infinite
scorn. "Be ye where ye will, ye'll never be aught but a blockhead."
Therewith carriages were being announced to the heads of families;
and with compliments and eager thanks, and assurances that nothing
could have been more delightful, the party broke up.
Captain Duncombe, while muffling his boys, declared that he never
saw a cleverer hit in his life, and that those two De Lancey
brothers ought to be on the stage; while Miss Moy loudly demanded
whether he did not feel it personal; and Mrs. Tallboys, gracefully
shaking hands with Anne and Rosamond, declared it a grand challenge
where the truth had been unconsciously hit off. Cecil was nowhere
to be seen.