The twins had a code of ethics which differed in some respects from that
ordinarily accepted in their state of life. They honoured their
mother--they couldn't help it, as they said themselves, apologetically;
but their father they looked upon as fair game for their amusement.
"What was that unearthly noise I heard this morning?" Mr. Ellis asked one
day.
"Oh, did we wake you, sir?" Diavolo exclaimed. "We didn't mean to. We were
only yowling papa out of bed with our fiddles. He's idle sometimes, and
won't get up, and it's so bad for him, you know."
"I wish you could see him scooting down the corridor after us," Angelica
observed. "And do you know, he speaks just the same at that time of day in
his dressing gown, as he does, in the evening in dress clothes. You'd die
if you heard him."
Another habit of the twins was to read any letters they might find lying
about.
"It is dishonourable to read other people's letters," Mr. Ellis admonished
them severely when he became aware of this peculiarity.
"It isn't for us," Angelica answered defiantly. "You might as well say its
dishonourable to squint. We've always done it, and everybody knows we do
it. We warn them not to leave their letters lying about, don't we,
Diavolo?"
"That is because it is greater fun to hunt for them," Diavolo interpreted
precisely. When Angelica gave a reason he usually cleared it of all
obscurity in this way.
"And how are we to know what goes on in the family if we don't read the
letters?" Angelica demanded.
"What necessity is there for you to know?"
"Every necessity!" she retorted. "Not be interested in one's own family
affairs? Why, we should we wanting in intelligence, and we're not that,
you know! And we should be wanting in affection, too, and every right
feeling; and I hope we are not that either, Mr. Ellis, _quite_. But
you needn't be afraid about your own letters. We shan't touch them."
"No," drawled Diavolo. "Of course that would be a very different thing."
"I am glad you draw the line somewhere," Mr. Ellis observed sarcastically.
He was far from satisfied, however, but he noticed eventually that the
dust collected on letters of his own if he left them lying about, and he
soon discovered that when his intelligent pupils gave their word they kept
it uncompromisingly. It was one of their virtues, and the other was
loyalty to each other. Their devotion to their mother hardly counted for a
virtue, because they never carried it far enough to make any sacrifice for
her sake. But they would have sacrificed their very lives for each other,
and would have fought for the right to die until there was very little
left of either of them to execute; of such peculiar quality were their
affections.
They had gone straight to Fountain Towers by the shortest cut across the
fields that afternoon when Mr. Ellis suggested vivisection as a possible
occupation for Dr. Galbraith. They never doubted but that they should
discover him hard at work, in some underground cellar most likely, to
which they would be guided by the cries of his victims, and would be able
to conquer his reluctance to allow them to assist at his experiments, by
threats of exposure; and they were considerably chagrined when, having
carefully concealed themselves in a thick shrubbery, in order to
reconnoitre the house, they came upon him in the garden, innocently
occupied in the idle pursuit of pruning rose trees.
He was somewhat startled himself when he suddenly saw their hot red faces,
set like two moons in a clump of greenery, peeping out at him with
animated eyes.
"Hollo!" he said. "Are you hungry?" The faces disappeared behind the
bushes.
"Are we, Angelica?" Diavolo whispered anxiously.
"Of course we are," she retorted.
"I thought we were too angry--disgusted--disappointed--_something_"
he murmured apologetically, but evidently much relieved.
Dr. Galbraith went on with his pruning, and presently the twins appeared
walking down the proper approach to the garden hand in hand demurely.
After they had saluted their host politely, they stood and stared at him.
"Well?" he said at last.
"I suppose we are too late?" said Angelica.
"For what?" he asked, without pausing in his occupation.
"For the viv-viv-vivinesectionining."
"Vivinesectionining! What on earth--Oh!" Light broke in upon him. "Who
told you I was?"
"Mr. Ellis," said Angelica.
"No, he didn't tell us you were exactly," Diavolo explained with
conscientious accuracy. "He asked papa if it was true that you were going
to this afternoon?"
"And what were _you_ doing?" Dr. Galbraith asked astutely.
"We were in the drawing room," Angelica answered, "trying to find out from
a lady why she tied herself up so tight in the middle."
"And so you came off here to see?"
"Yes," said Diavolo. "We wanted to catch you at it."
"You little brute, misbegotten by the--" Dr. Galbraith began, but Diavolo
interrupted him.
"_Sir!_" he exclaimed, drawing himself up with an expression of as
much indignation as could be got into his small patrician features. "If
you do not instantly withdraw that calumny, I shall have to fight you on
my mother's behalf, and I shall consider it my duty to inform her of the
insinuation which is the cause of offence."
"I apologize," said Dr. Galbraith, taking off his hat and bowing low. "I
assure you the expression was used as a mere _façon de parler_."
"I accept your explanation, sir," said Diavolo, returning the salute. "But
I caution you to be careful for the future. What is a _façon de
parler_, Angelica?" he whispered as he put his hat on.
"Oh, just a way of saying it," she answered. "I wish you wouldn't talk so
much. Men are always cackling by the hour all about nothing. If people
come to see me when _I_ have a house of my own, I shall not forget
the rites of hospitality."
The doctor put up his pruning knife. There was a twinkle in his gray eyes.
"If you will do me the favour to come this way," he said, "my slaves will
prepare a small collation on the instant."
"Oh, yes," said Diavolo. "Arabian Nights, you know! You must have fresh
fruits and dried fruits, choice wines, cakes, sweets, and nuts."
"It shall be done as my lord commands," said the doctor.
That same evening, when he took the children home, Dr. Galbraith found
Lady Adeline alone. She was a plain woman, but well-bred in appearance;
and tender thoughts had carved a sweet expression on her face.
Next to her brother Dawne, Dawne's most intimate friend, Dr. Galbraith,
was the man in the world upon whom she placed the greatest reliance.
"I have brought back the children," he said.
"Ah. then they _have_ been with you!" she answered in a tone of
relief. "We hoped they were."
"Oh, yes," he said smiling. "They showed me exactly what the difficulty
here had been, and I have been endeavouring to win back their esteem, for
they made it appear plainly that they despised me when they found me
peacefully pruning rose trees instead of dismembering live rabbits, as Mr.
Ellis had apparently led them to expect."
"They told you, then?"
"Oh, exactly, I am sure--about the lady tied too tight in the middle, and
everything."
"They are terrible, George, those children," Lady Adeline declared. "My
whole life is one ache of anxiety on their account. I am always in doubt
as to whether their unnatural acuteness portends vice or is promising; and
whether we are doing all that ought to be done for them."
"I am sure they are in very good hands now," he answered cheerfully. "Mr.
Ellis is an exceedingly good fellow; they like him too, and I don't think
anybody could manage them better."
"No;" said Lady Adeline: "but that only means that no one can manage them
at all. They are everywhere. They know everything. They have already
mastered every fact in natural history that can be learnt upon the estate;
and they will do almost anything, and are so unscrupulous that I fear
sometimes they are going to take after some criminal ancestor there may
have been in the family, although I never heard of one, and go to the bad
altogether. Now, what is to be done with such children? I hardly dare
allow myself to hope that they have good qualities enough to save them,
and yet--and yet they are lovable," she added, looking at him wistfully.
"Most lovable, and I am sure you need not disturb yourself seriously," he
answered with confidence. "The children have vivid imaginations and
incomparable courage; and their love of mischief comes from exuberance of
spirits only, I am sure. When Angelica's womanly instincts develop, and
she has seen something of the serious side of life--been made to
_feel_ it, I mean--she will become a very different person, or I am
much mistaken. Her character promises to be as fine, when it is formed, as
it will certainly be unusual. And as for Diavolo--well, I have seen no
sign of any positive vice in either of them."
"You comfort me," said Lady Adeline. "How did you entertain them?"
"Oh, we had great fun!" he replied, laughing. "We had an impromptu Arabian
Night's entertainment with all the men and women about the place disguised
as slaves; and they all entered into the spirit of the thing heartily. I
assure you, I never enjoyed anything more in my life. But I must go. I am
on my way to town to-night to read a paper to-morrow morning upon a most
interesting case of retarded brain development, which I have been studying
for the last year. If I am right in my conclusions, we are upon the high
road to some extraordinary and most valuable discoveries."
"Now, that is a singular man," Lady Adeline remarked to Mr. Ellis
afterward. She had been telling the tutor about the success of his
stratagem. "He spent valuable hours to-day playing with my children, and
he says he never enjoyed anything so much in his life, and I quite believe
him; and to-morrow he will probably astonish the scientific world with a
discovery of the last importance."
"I call him a human being, perfectly possessed of all his faculties," Mr.
Ellis answered.
The twins worked well by fits and starts; but when they did not chose to
be diligent, they considerately gave their tutor a holiday. The last
threat of a thrashing for Diavolo happened to be on the first of these
occasions.
"It looks a good morning for fishing" he remarked casually to Angelica,
just after they had settled down to lessons.
"Yes, it does," she answered.
There was a momentary pause, and then away went their books, and they were
off out of the window.
But Mr. Ellis succeeded in capturing them, and, laying hold of an arm of
each, he dragged them before the paternal tribunal in the library. He was
not intimate with the peculiar relations of the household to each other at
that particular time, and he thought Mr. Hamilton-Wells would prefer to
order the punishment himself for so serious an offence. Angelica shook her
hair over her face, and made sufficient feint of resistance to tumble her
frock on the way, while Diavolo pretended to be terror-stricken; but this
was only to please Mr. Ellis with the delusion that fear of their father
gave him a moral hold over them, for the moment Mr. Hamilton-Wells frowned
upon them they straightened themselves and beamed about blandly.
Mr. Hamilton-Wells ordered Diavolo to be thrashed, and Diavolo dashed off
for the cane and handed it to his tutor politely, saying at the same time:
"Do be quick, Mr. Ellis, I want to get out."
"You wouldn't dare to thrash him if he were big enough to thrash you
back," Angelica shrieked, waltzing round like a tornado; "and it isn't
fair to thrash him and not me, for I am much worse than he is. You know I
am, papa! and I shall _hate_ you if Diavolo is thrashed, and teach
him how to make your life a burden to you for a month, I
_shall_"--stamping her foot.
It always made her blood boil if there were any question of corporal
punishment for Diavolo. She could have endured it herself without a
murmur, but she had a feminine objection to knowing that it was being
inflicted, especially as she was not allowed to be present.
"Don't be an idiot, Angelica," Diavolo drawled. "I would rather be
thrashed, and have done with it. It does fellows good to be thrashed;
makes them manly, they say in the books. And it hurts a jolly sight less
than being scratched by _you_, if that is any comfort."
"Oh, you _are_ mean!" Angelica exclaimed. "Wait till we get outside!"
"I think, sir," Mr. Ellis ventured to suggest in answer to an appealing
glance from Mr. Hamilton-Wells, and looking dubiously at the cane--"I
think, since Diavolo doesn't care a rap about being flogged, I had better
devise a form of punishment for which he will care."
"Then come along, Diavolo," Angelica exclaimed, making a dash for the
door. "They won't want us while they're devising."
Mr. Ellis would have followed them, but Mr. Hamilton-Wells gently
restrained him. "It is no use, Mr. Ellis," he said, sighing deeply. "I
would recommend you to keep up a show of disapproval for form's sake, but
I beg that you will not give yourself any unnecessary trouble. They are
quite incorrigible."
"I hope not," the tutor answered.
"Well, I leave them to you, make what you can of them!" their father
rejoined. "I wash my hands of the responsibility while you are here."
The Heavenly Twins got their day's sport on that occasion, and returned
with a basket full of trout for tea, fishy themselves, and tired, but
bland and conciliatory. They dressed for the evening carefully, and
without coercion, which was always a sign of repentance; and then they
went down to the schoolroom, where they found Mr. Ellis standing with his
back to the fireplace, reading a newspaper. He looked at them each in turn
as they entered, and they looked at him, but he made no remark.
"I wish you would give us a good scolding at once, and have done with it,"
Angelica observed.
He made no sign of having heard, however, but quietly turned the paper
over, chose a fresh item of information, and began to read it. Angelica
sat down in her place at table, leant back with her short frock up to her
knees and her long legs tucked under her chair, and reflected: Diavolo did
the same, yawning aggressively.
"I'd sell my birthright for a mess of pottage with pleasure this minute,"
he exclaimed.
"What was pottage, Mr. Ellis?" Angelica asked insinuatingly.
"You don't suppose the recipe has been handed down in the Ellis family, do
you?" said Diavolo.
Angelica looked round for a missile to hurl at him, but there being
nothing handy, she tried the effect of a withering glance, to which he
responded by making a face at her. A storm was evidently brewing, but
fortunately just at that moment the tea arrived, and caused a diversion
which prevented further demonstrations. Happily for those in charge of the
twins, their outbursts of feeling were all squalls which subsided as
suddenly as those of the innocent babe which howls everybody in the house
out of bed for his bottle, and is beyond all comfort till he gets it, when
his anger instantly goes out, and only a few gurgling "Oh's" of intense
satisfaction mark the point from which the racket proceeded.
For a week Mr. Ellis maintained an attitude of dignified reserve with the
twins, and their sociable souls were much exercised to devise a means to
break down the barrier of coldness which they found between themselves and
their tutor. They tried everything they could think of to beguile him back
to the old friendly footing, and it was only after all other means had
failed that they thought at last of apologising for their unruly conduct.
It was the first time that they had ever done such a thing in their lives
spontaneously, and they were so proud of it that they went and told
everybody they knew.
Mr. Ellis, having graciously accepted the apology, found himself expected
to discuss the whole subject at tea that evening.
"Of course, we were quite in the wrong," said Angelica, taking advantage
of the Peace Angel's presence to sum up comprehensively; "but you must
acknowledge that we were not altogether to blame, for you really have not
been making our lessons sufficiently interesting to rivet our attention
lately."
"That is true," said the diligent Diavolo. "My attention has not been
riveted for weeks."
After the twins had made their memorable apology, they were so impressed
by the importance of the event that they determined to celebrate it in
some special way. They wanted to do something really worthy of the
occasion.
"We'll do some good to somebody, shall we?" said Angelica.
"Not unless there's some fun in it," said Diavolo.
"Well, who proposed to do anything without fun in it?" Angelica wanted to
know. "You've no sense at all, Diavolo When people get up fancy fairs and
charity balls, do they pretend to be doing it for fun? No! They say, 'Oh,
my dear, I _am_ so busy, I hardly know what to do first; but what
keeps me up is the object! the good object!' And then they're enjoying it
as hard as they can all the time. And that's what we'll do. We'll give the
school children a treat."
The twins were allowed an hour to riot about the place after their early
dinner, and then a bell was rung to summon them in to lessons, but on that
particular day Mr. Ellis waited in vain for them. Angelica had concealed
her riding habit in a loft, and as soon as they got out they ran to the
stables, which were just then deserted, the men being at their dinner; and
Angelica changed her dress while Diavolo got out their ponies and saddled
them, and having carefully stolen through a thick plantation on to the
high road, they scampered off to Morningquest as hard as their lively
little steeds could carry them.
They were well known in Morningquest, and many an admiring as well as
inquiring glance followed them as they cantered close together side by
side through the quaint old streets. The people were wondering what on
earth they were up to.
"Everybody looks so pleased to see us," said Diavolo, smiling genially; "I
think we ought to come oftener."
"We will," said Angelica.
They pulled up at the principal confectioner's in the place, and bought as
many pounds of sweets as they could carry, desiring the proprietor in a
lordly way to send the bill to Hamilton House at his earliest convenience;
and then they rode off to the largest day school in the city, stationed
themselves on either side of a narrow gateway through which both girls and
boys had to pass to get in, and pelted the children with sweets as they
returned from their midday dinners; and as they had chosen sugar almonds,
birds' eggs, and other varieties of a hard and heavy nature, which,
although interesting in the mouth of a child, are inconvenient when
received in its eyes, and cause irritation, which is apt to be resented,
when pelted at the back of its head, the scene in a few minutes was
extremely animated. This was what the Heavenly Twins called giving the
school children a treat, and they told Mr. Ellis afterward that they
enjoyed doing good very much.
"What shall we do now?" said Diavolo as they walked their ponies aimlessly
down the street when that episode was over.
"Let's call on grandpapa and the bishop," Angelica suggested.
"The bishop first, then," said Diavolo. "They've such good cakes at the
palace."
"Well, that's just why we should do grandpapa first," said Angelica.
"Don't you see? We can have cake at Morne; and we shall be able to eat the
ones at the palace too, if they're better."
"Yes," said Diavolo, with grave precision. "I notice myself, that, however
much I have had, I can always eat a little more of something better."
"That's what they mean by tempting the appetite," observed Angelica
sagely.
When the children arrived at the castle, it occurred to them that it would
be a very good idea to ride right in and go upstairs on their ponies; but
they only succeeded in mounting the broad steps and entering the hall,
where they were captured by the footmen and respectfully persuaded to
alight. They announced that they had come to call on the Duke of
Morningquest, and were conducted to his presence with pomp and ceremony
enough to have embarrassed any other equally dusty dishevelled mortals,
but the twins were not troubled with self-consciousness, and entered with
perfect confidence. The duke was delighted. If there was one thing which
could give him more pleasure than another in his old age, it was the
wicked ways of the Heavenly Twins, and especially of the promising
Angelica, who very much resembled him both in appearance, decision of
character, and sharpness of temper. She promised, however, to be on a much
larger scale, for the duke was diminutive. He looked like one who stands
in a picture at the end of a long line of ancestors, considerably reduced
by the perspective, and it was as if in his person an attempt had been
made to breed the race down to the vanishing point, His high-arched feet
were admired as models of size and shape, and so also were his slender
delicate hands; but neither were agreeable to an educated eye and an
intelligence indifferent to the dignity of dukes, but nice in the matter
of proportion.
The children found their grandfather in the oriel room, so called because
of the great oriel window, which was a small room in itself, although it
looked, as you approached the castle, no bigger than a swallow's nest on
the face of the solid masonry, being the only excrescence visible above
the trees from that point of view. The castle stood on a hill which
descended precipitously from under the oriel, so that the latter almost
overhung the valley in which the city lay below, and commanded a
magnificent view of the flat country beyond, thridded by a shining winding
ribbon of river. The hill was wooded on that side to the top, and the
castle crowned it, rising above the trees in irregular outline against the
sky imposingly. The old duke sat in the oriel often, looking down at the
wonderful prospect, but thinking less of his own vast possessions than of
the great cathedral of Morningquest, which he coveted for Holy Church. He
had become a convert to Roman Catholicism in his old age, and his bigotry
and credulity were as great now as his laxity and scepticism had been
before his conversion.
He was sitting alone with his confessor and private chaplain, Father
Ricardo, a man of middle age, middle height, attenuated form, round head
with coarse black hair, piercing dark eyes, aquiline nose somewhat thick,
and the loose mouth characteristic of devout Roman Catholics, High Church
people, and others who are continually being wound up to worship an unseen
Deity by means of sensuous enjoyment; the uncertain lines into which the
lips fall in repose indicating fairly the habitual extent of their
emotional indulgences. His manners were suave and deferential, his motives
sincerely disinterested in the interests of the Church, his method of
gaining his ends unhampered by any sense of the need of extreme verbal
accuracy. He was reading to the duke when the children were announced, and
rose and bowed low to them as they entered, with a smile of respectful and
affectionate interest.
Diavolo raised his dusty cap to his chest and returned the bow with
punctilious gravity. Angelica tossed him a nod as she passed up the room
in a business-like way to where her grandfather was sitting facing the
window. The old duke looked round as the children approached and his face
relaxed; he did not absolutely smile, but his eyes twinkled.
Angelica plumped down on the arm of his chair, put her arm round his neck,
and deposited a superficial kiss somewhere in the region of his ear, while
Diavolo wrung his hand more ceremoniously, but with much energy. Both
children seemed sure of their welcome, and comported themselves with their
usual unaffected ease of manner. The old duke controlled his mouth, but
there was something in the expression of his countenance which meant that
he would have chuckled if his old sense of humour had not been checked by
the presence of the priest, which held him somehow to his new professions
of faith, and the severe dignity of demeanour that best befits the piety
of a professional saint.
He was wearing a little black velvet skull cap, and Angelica, still
sitting on the arm of his chair, took it off as soon as she had saluted
him, looked into it, and clapped it on to the back of his head again,
somewhat awry.
"I am glad you have your black velvet coat on to-day," she said, embracing
the back of his chair with an arm, and kicking her long legs about in her
fidgety way. "It goes well with your hair, and I like the feel of it."
"Have you a holiday to-day?" the duke demanded with an affectation of
sternness.
"Yes," said Angelica absently, taking up one of his delicate hands and
transferring a costly ring from his slender white forefinger to her own
dirty brown one.
"No," the more exact Diavolo contradicted; "we gave Mr. Ellis a holiday."
"To tell you the truth, grandpapa, I had forgotten all about lessons,"
said Angelica candidly. "I fancy Mr. Ellis is fizzing by this time, don't
you, Diavolo?"
"What are you doing here if you haven't a holiday?" their grandfather
asked.
"Visiting you, sir," Diavolo answered in his peculiar drawl, which always
left you uncertain as to whether he intended an impertinence or not. He
was lying at full length on the floor facing his grandfather, with the
back of his head resting on the low window sill, and the old gentleman was
looking at him admiringly. He was not at all sure of the import of
Diavolo's last reply, but had the tact not to pursue the subject.
The priest had remained standing, with his hands folded upon the book he
had been reading, and a set smile upon his thin intellectual face, behind
which it was easy to see that the busy thoughts came crowding.
Angelica turned on him suddenly, flinging herself from the arm of her
grandfather's chair on to a low seat which stood with its back to the
window, in order to do so.
"I say, Papa Ricardo, I want to ask you," she began. "What do you think of
that Baronne de Chantal, whom you call Sainte, when her son threw himself
across the threshold of their home to prevent her leaving the house, and
she stepped across his body to go and be _religieuse?_"
"It was the heroic act of a holy woman," the priest replied.
"But I thought Home was the woman's sphere?" said Angelica.
"Yes," the priest rejoined, "unless God calls them to religion."
"But did God give her all those children?" Angelica pursued.
"Yes, indeed," said Father Ricardo. "Children are the gift of God."
"Well, so I thought I had heard," Angelica remarked, with a genial air of
being much interested. "But it seems such bad management to give a lady a
lot of children, and then take her away so that she can't look after
them."
The poor old duke had been dull all day. His mind, under the influence of
his father confessor, had been running on the horrors of hell, and such
subjects, together with the necessity of accomplishing certain good works
and setting aside large sums of money in order to excuse himself from such
condemnation as the priest had ventured to hint courteously that even a
great duke might entail upon himself by the quite excusable errors of his
youth; but since the Heavenly Twins arrived the old gentleman had begun to
see things again from a point of view more natural to one of his family,
and his countenance cleared in a way which denoted that his spirits were
rising. Father Ricardo was accustomed to say that the dear children's high
spirits were apt to be too much for his Grace; but this was a mistake, due
doubtless to his extreme humility, which would not allow him to mention
himself, for whom there was no doubt the dear children _were_ apt to
be too much.
The old duke, upon that last remark of Angelica's, twinkled a glance at
his Father Confessor which had an effect on the latter that made itself
apparent in the severity of his reply: "The ways of the Lord are
inscrutable," he said, "and it is presumptuous for mortals, however great
their station, to attempt to fathom them."
"I have heard that before too, often," said Diavolo, with a wise nod of
commendation.
"So have I," said Angelica; and then both children beamed at the priest
cordially, and the long-suppressed chuckle escaped from the duke.
Father Ricardo retired into himself.
"Grandpapa," Diavolo resumed--the Heavenly Twins never allowed the
conversation to flag--"Grandpapa, do you believe there ever was a little
boy who never, never, told a lie?"
"I hope, sir, you do not mean me to infer that you are mendacious?" the
old gentleman sternly rejoined.
"Mendacious?" Diavolo repeated; "that's do I tell lies, isn't it? Well,
you see, sir, it's like this. If I'd been up to something, and you asked
me if I'd done it, I'd say 'Yes' like a shot; but if Angelica had been up
to something, and I knew all about it, and you asked me if she'd done it,
I'd say 'No' flatly."
"Do I understand, sir, that you would tell me a lie 'flatly'?"
"Yes," said Diavolo decidedly, "if you were mean enough to expect me to
sneak on Angelica."
"Father Ricardo," the latter began energetically, "when you tell a lie do
you look straight at a person or just past the side of their heads?"
"_I_ always look straight at a person myself," said Diavolo, gravely
considering the priest; "I can't help it."
"It's the best way," said Angelica with the assurance of one who has tried
both. "I suppose, grandpapa," she pursued, "when people get old they have
nothing to tell lies about. They just sit and listen to them;" and again
she looked hard at Father Ricardo, whose face had gradually become
suffused with an angry red.
"I should think, Father Ricardo," said Diavolo, observing this, "if you
were a layman, you would be feeling now as if you could throttle us?"
But before the poor priest could utter the reproof which trembled on his
lips, the door opened and the duke's unmarried daughter and youngest
child, the beautiful Lady Fulda, entered, and changed the moral atmosphere
in a moment.
Both children rose to receive her tender kisses affectionately.
Their passionate appreciation of all things beautiful betrayed itself in
the way they gazed at her; and hers was the only presence that ever
subdued them for a moment.
"I like her in white and gold," Angelica remarked to Diavolo when she had
looked her longest.
"So do I," Diavolo rejoined with a nod of satisfaction.
"My dear children!" Lady Fulda exclaimed. "You must not discuss my
appearance in that way. You speak of me as if I were not here."
"You never seem to be here, somehow," said Diavolo, struggling with a big
thought he could not express. "I always feel when you come in as if you
were miles and miles away from us. Now, mamma is always close to us, and
papa gets quite in the way; but you seem to be"--he raised both hands high
above his head, with the palms spread outward, and then let his arms sink
to his sides slowly. The gesture expressed an immeasurable distance above
and beyond him.
"Yes," said Angelica, "I feel that too. But sometimes, when there's music
and flowers and no light to speak of--in church, you know--and you feel as
if angels might be about, or even the Lord himself, I rise up beside you
somehow, and come quite close."
Lady Fulda's eyes deepened with feeling as Angelica spoke, and drawing the
child to her side, she smoothed her hair, and gazed down into her face
earnestly, as if she would penetrate the veil of flesh that baffled her
when she tried to see clearly the soul of which Angelica occasionally gave
her some such glimpse.
The old duke glanced round at the clock, and instantly the attentive
priest stepped to the window and opened it wide. Then the duke raised his
hand as if to enjoin silence, and presently the music of the bells of the
city clocks, striking the hour in various tones, and all at different
moments, causing a continuous murmurous sea of sound, arose from below.
When the last vibration ceased there was a quite perceptible pause. The
duke took off his little round black velvet cap, and leant forward,
listening intently; Lady Fulda bent her head and her lips moved; the
priest folded his hands and looked straight before him with the
unconscious eyes of one absorbed in thought or prayer who sees not; the
twins, assuming a sanctimonious expression, bowed their hypocritical heads
and watched what was going on out of the corners of their eyes. There was
a moment's interval, and then came the chime, mellowed by distance, but
clear and resonant:
[Illustration: (musical notation); lyrics: He, watch-ing o-ver Is--ra--el,
slumbers not, nor sleeps.]
It was the habit of the old duke to listen for it hour by hour, and while
it rang, he, and those of his household who shared his faith, offered a
fervent prayer for the restoration of Holy Church.
Lady Fulda insisted on sending the children home under proper escort. They
strongly objected. They said they were not going straight home; they had
to call on the Bishop of Morningquest.
"Why are you going to call on the Bishop of Morningquest?" their aunt
asked.
"We wish to see him," Angelica answered stiffly.
"On the subject of rotten potatoes," Diavolo supplemented. Lady Fulda
stared.
"Sainte Chantal, you know," said the ready Angelica. The reason was new to
her, but the twins usually understood each other like a flash. "They put a
rotten potato on her plate one day at dinner, and she ate it."
"She was so hungry?" suggested Lady Fulda, trying hard to remember the
story.
"No, so humble," Angelica answered; "at least so they say in the book; but
we don't think it could have been humility; it must have been horrid bad
taste; but we're going to ask the bishop. He's so temperate, you know. We
tried to discuss the matter with Father Ricardo, but he shut us up
promptly."
"My dear child!" Lady Fulda exclaimed, "what an expression!"
"I assure you it is the right one, Aunt Fulda," Angelica maintained. "He
got quite red in the face."
"Yes," said Diavolo, gazing at Father Ricardo thoughtfully. "He looked hot
enough to set fire to us if he'd touched us."
"I should think he would have been invaluable in the Inquisition," said
Angelica, to whom that last remark of Diavolo's had opened up a boundless
field of speculation and retrospect. "Wouldn't you like to hear a heretic
go off pop on a pile?" she inquired, turning to Father Ricardo.
The duke and Lady Fulda glanced at him involuntarily, and very
good-naturedly tried to smile. This, however, did not necessitate such an
effort as the mere cold reading of the twins' remark might make it appear,
for they both had a certain charm of manner, expressive of an utter
absence of any intention to offend, which no kindly disposed person could
resist; and Father Ricardo was essentially kindly disposed.
The twins were taking their leave by this time. Angelica proceeded to
deposit one of her erratic kisses somewhere on the old duke's head, with
an emphasis which caused him to wince perceptibly. Then she went up to
Father Ricardo, and shook hands with him.
"I hope the next time we come you will be able to tell us some nice bogey
stories about death and the judgment, and hell, and that kind of thing,"
she said politely. "They interest us very much. You remember, you told us
some before?"
"It must be very jolly for grandpapa to have you here always, ready to
make his blood run cold whenever he feels dull," Diavolo observed, looking
up at the priest admiringly. "You do it so well, you know, just as if you
believed it all."
"We tried it once with some children we had to spend the day with us at
Hamilton House," Angelica said. "We took them into a dark room--the long
room, you know, Aunt Fulda; and Diavolo rubbed a match on the wall at the
far end, and I explained that that was a glimmer of hell-fire at a great
distance off; and then we told them if they didn't keep quite still the
old devil himself would come creeping up behind without any noise, and
jump on their backs."
"And the little beggars howled," Diavolo added, as if that consequence
still filled him with astonishment.
"My dear children, I am afraid you tell dreadful stories," Lady Fulda
exclaimed in a horrified tone.
"Yes," said Angelica, with her grave little nod; "and we're improving; but
we cannot come up to Father Ricardo yet in that line."
"Not by a long chalk," said Diavolo.
"But, my _dear_ child," Lady Fulda solemnly asserted, "Father Ricardo
tells you _nothing_ but what is _absolutely_ true."
"How do you know?" Angelica asked.
"Oh--oh!" Lady Fulda stammered, and then looked at the priest appealingly.
"When you are older, and able to understand these things," Father Ricardo
began with gentle earnestness, "perhaps you will allow me--"
"But how do you _know_ it's true yourself?" Angelica demanded.
"Did you ever _see_ the devil,
With his little spade and shovel,
Digging praties in the garden
With his tail cocked up?"--
Diavolo chanted, accompanying the words with a little dance, in which
Angelica, holding up her habit, joined incontinently.
Lady Fulda remained grave, but the old duke and Father Ricardo himself
were moved to mirth, and there was no more talk of Revealed Religion, the
Power of the Popedom, and the glory of the Church on earth, at Morne that
day.
Lady Fulda had been firm about sending the children home under escort, and
they found a steady old groom waiting ready to mount a spirited horse when
they went down to the courtyard to get on their ponies. They had
discovered a box of croquet mallets on their way downstairs, and borrowed
one each.
As they descended the steep hill leading from the castle, at a walk, they
began to discuss recent events, as their habit was.
"What did you do when the chime went, and you hung your head?" said
Angelica.
"I hoped there'd be hot cakes for tea; bat I didn't mean it for a prayer,"
Diavolo answered, as if the matter admitted of a doubt.
"I'm glad we decided to go secondly to the palace; I didn't think much of
grandpapa's tea," Angelica observed. "It was all china, and no cakes--to
speak of; no crisp ones, you know."
"Well, you see his teeth are bad," said Diavolo indulgently.
"He has enough of them, then!" Angelica answered.
"Yes, but they aren't much good, they're so loose, you know; every now and
again you can see them waggle," said Diavolo.
"I'd like to see him bite a fig!" said Angelica, chuckling.
"They'd stick, I suppose," said Diavolo meditatively. "I expect there will
be great improvements in those matters by the time we want to be patched."
The groom, who had been riding at a respectful distance behind, suddenly
perceived that he had lost sight of the children altogether. The descent
was steep just there, and winding; and, knowing with whom he had to deal,
the man urged his horse on, straining his eyes at every turn to catch a
glimpse of the twins, but vainly, till he reached the bottom of the hill,
when they bounced out on him suddenly from among the trees on either side
of the road, whooping and flourishing their mallets wildly. The horse,
which was very fresh, gave one great bound and bolted, and the Heavenly
Twins, shrieking with delight, hunted him hard into Morningquest.
When they arrived at the palace, Angelica asked with the utmost confidence
if the bishop were at home; and, being informed by an obsequious footman
that he was, the twins marched into the hall, and were ushered into the
presence of Mrs. Beale and her daughter Edith.
"Tell his lordship we are here," Angelica said to the servant
authoritatively, before she performed her salutations. When these were
over, the twins sat down opposite to Edith and inspected her.
"We've just been seeing Aunt Fulda," Diavolo remarked.
Angelica caught the connection: "Your hair is about the same colour as
hers, but your face is smoother," she observed. "It looks like porcelain.
Hers has little stipples, you know, about the nose, when you go close.
They seem to come as you get older."
"Uncle Dawne calls you Saxon Edith," said Diavolo. "Don't you wonder he
doesn't want to marry you? _I_ do. When I'm old enough I'm going to
propose to you; do you think you will have me?"
"Have you! I should think not, indeed!" Angelica exclaimed with a jealous
flash. At that time the notion of sharing her brother's affection with
anybody always enraged her.
Diavolo was irritated by her scornful manner.
"I am a little afraid," he began, addressing Mrs. Beale in his deliberate
way: "I am a little afraid Angelica will stand in the way of my making a
good match. No respectable wife would have her about."
Quick as thought, Angelica had him by the hair, and the two were tumbling
over each other on the floor.
Mrs. Beale and Edith sprang forward to separate them, but that was
impossible until the twins had banged each other to their heart's content,
when they got up, with their feelings thoroughly relieved, and resumed
their seats and the conversation as if nothing had happened. The skirmish,
however, had been severe although short. Diavolo had a deep scratch over
his right eyebrow which began to bleed profusely. Angelica was the first
to notice it, and tearing out a handkerchief which was up her sleeve, she
rolled it into a bandage roughly, whirled over to Diavolo, and tied it
round his head, covering his right eye, and leaving a great knot and two
long ends sticking up like rabbit's ears amongst his fair hair, and a
pointed flap hanging down on the opposite side.
"I must cut my nails," she remarked, giving a finishing touch to this
labour of love, which made Diavolo rock on his chair, but he accepted her
attentions as a matter-of-course, merely drawling: "Angelica is _so_
energetical!" as he recovered his balance.
Just at this moment the bishop bustled in. He had been engaged upon some
important diocesan duties when the twins were announced; but, thinking
they must have come with an urgent message, he suspended the work of the
diocese, and hurried up to see what was the matter.
The twins rose to receive him with their usual unaffected affability. He
was a short stout man with a pleasant face, and a cordial well-bred manner;
a little apt to be fussy on occasion, and destitute of any sense of
humour in other people, although given to making his own little jokes. He
was a bishop of the old-fashioned kind, owing his position to family
influence rather than to any special attainment or qualification; but he
was a good man, and popular, and the See of Morningquest would have had
much to regret if the back door by which he got into the Church had been
shut before he passed through it.
"I am afraid there has been an accident," he said with concern when he saw
Diavolo's head tied up in a handkerchief.
"Oh, no, thank you, sir," that young gentleman assured him. "It is only a
scratch."
"_I_ did it," said the candid Angelica; "and it looked unpleasant, so
I tied it up."
"Oh," the bishop ejaculated, glancing inquiringly at his wife and
daughter. "You wanted to see me?"
"Yes," said Diavolo, preparing to suit his conversation to the bishop's
taste. "There are a great many things we want to discuss with you; what
were they, Angelica? I am sure I have forgotten them all."
"Let me see," said Angelica--Sainte Chantal and the rotten potato had
quite gone out of her mind. "It was just to have a little interesting
conversation, you know."
"We're getting on very well with our lessons," Diavolo gravely assured
him, anticipating the inevitable question.
"We've just come from Morne," said Angelica.
"Indeed," the bishop answered. "How is your grandfather?"
"Rather flat to-day," said Angelica. "He didn't say anything of interest;
didn't even lecture us."
"No; but he looked pleasant," said Diavolo.
"I like him to lecture," Angelica insisted. "I like him to talk about the
Church, how it is going to encompass the earth, the sea, and all that in
them is; and that kind of thing, you know--boom, boom! He makes you feel
as if every word he uttered ought to be printed in capital letters; and it
seems as if your eyes opened wider and wider, and your skin got tight."
Diavolo nodded his head to one side in intelligent acquiescence.
Not being troubled with self-consciousness, he wore the handkerchief with
which his head was decorated with the grave dignity of his best behaviour.
"I sometimes think, sir," he began, addressing the bishop exactly in his
father's precise way, "that there is something remarkable about my
grandfather. He is a kind of a prophet, I imagine, to whom the Lord
doesn't speak."
Edith walked to the window, Mrs. Beale got out her handkerchief hastily;
the bishop's countenance relaxed.
"I suppose you wouldn't like us to be converted?" Angelica asked.
"We call it _perverted_, dear child," said Mrs. Beale.
"Well, they call it _converted_ just as positively up at the castle,"
Angelica rejoined, not argumentatively, merely stating the fact.
"I wonder what the angels call it," said Diavolo, looking up in their
direction out of a window opposite, and then glancing at the bishop as if
he thought he ought to know.
"I don't suppose they care a button what we call it," Angelica decided
off-hand, out of her own inner consciousness. "But you would not like us
to be either 'con' or 'per,' would you?" she asked the bishop.
"I am afraid I must not discuss so serious a question with you to-day," he
answered. "I am very busy, and I must go back to my work."
"I thought you looked unsettled," Angelica observed. "I know what it is
when you've got to come to the drawing room, and want to be somewhere
else. They won't excuse us at home as a rule, but we'll excuse you, if you
like."
"Eh--thank you," the old gentleman answered, glancing with a smile at his
wife.
"But I should think some tea would do you good," Diavolo suggested.
"Have you not had any tea?" Edith asked, stretching her hand out toward
the bell.
"Well, yes," he answered. "We've had a little"--the tone implied, "but not
nearly enough."
"We always like your cakes, you know," said Angelica; "and ours at
Hamilton House are generally nice; but at Morne they're sometimes sodden."
The bishop withdrew at this point, and the children devoted the rest of
their attention to the cakes.
"Now we've got to go and settle with Mr. Ellis," Diavolo remarked to
Angelica, yawning, as they walked their ponies out of the palace grounds.
"Well, at any rate, we've done the celebration thoroughly," she answered,
"and enjoyed it. He won't be able to help that now. Oh--by the way! here's
grandpapa's ring. I forgot it."
"It doesn't matter," said Diavolo. "He knows you'll take care of it."
Almost at the same moment the old duke at Morne missed the ring, and
remarked: "Ah, I remember, Angelica has it. She put it on her finger when
she was sitting beside me this afternoon."
"Shall I go at once to Hamilton House, and bring it back with me?" Father
Ricardo asked, somewhat officiously.
"No, sir, thank you," said the duke with dignity. "My grand-daughter will
return the ring when it suits her convenience."
Next day Angelica begged her father to take the ring back for her with a
note of apology explaining that she had forgotten it, and expressing her
regret.