A week after her return to Yew Hedge, Peggy was on her way to tea at the
vicarage, when she was joined by Rob Darcy, who jumped over a wall at
her approach, and exhibited an extraordinary amount of surprise at
seeing her, considering how long he had been on the outlook for just
such an event.
"Where are you going, my pretty maid?" he demanded, "and--"
"I'm going to the vicarage, sir," she said promptly, with an
accompaniment of old-fashioned curtsey which brought the twinkle into
Rob's eyes.
However solemn he might be, he never could resist a smile at Peggy's
saucy ways, and to-day indeed he did not appear solemn at all, but
unusually beaming and radiant.
"Then I'll go with you, my pretty maid, for I've been asked too, in a
breathless note from Mellicent, with neither beginning nor ending, nor
comma nor full stop. If any one else had written in such a state of
agitation, I should have thought something thrilling had occurred, but
Mellicent is guaranteed to go off her head on the slightest provocation.
Probably it is nothing more exciting than a cake or a teacloth which is
to be used for the first time. She said that I _must_ come, whatever
happened, for it was dreadfully important, but I have really not thought
much about what it could be, for I am accustomed to receiving violent
summonses which mean nothing at all. The first time I ran nearly half
the way, and arrived with a purple face and such a stitch in my side as
nearly finished my mortal career, and she said: `Oh, have you come? I
didn't think you would. I want to show you my new hat!' Another time
she was out, and had forgotten that she had asked me at all; but as she
has asked you too, that will hardly be the case to-day."
Peggy threw back her head and regarded Rob with a curious scrutiny.
"Methinks I perceive an air of unusual festivity in my venerable friend.
It takes a great deal to rouse him to any sign of feeling, so one must
needs conclude that some important event had occurred. May one inquire
its nature?"
"Peggy may, if she cares to hear it!" returned Rob briefly. "I have had
one or two pieces of good luck lately, Mariquita, which have cheered me
up. That's all. I want to earn some money, you know, and not depend
entirely on what the father allows me. My books and papers have done
well in one sense, though there's not much money to be made out of
scientific writing, but now I believe I see my way to making a good
thing out of my plants. I think I told you before that I have sold some
of the specimens which I brought home at a very good price, and I have
one shrub in particular which is bringing in quite a little income.
It's a species of broom which I discovered in the most accidental
fashion. I was on a hunting expedition one day when I was in Africa,
and was hiding behind a clump of broom, when I noticed that one bush was
different from the rest. They were plain, but it was mottled in two
distinct shades of the same colour. It was evidently a freak, a disease
of some sort, as such variations generally are, but it was uncommonly
pretty all the same. I had never seen anything of the kind before, and,
without conceit, I may say that I know a good deal more about plants
than the ordinary professional gardener. Well, I examined it, and it
occurred to me, Peg, that it would be a much better day's work to secure
that shrub than to go on with my sport. I unloaded my gun, marked the
spot, and had a look round, to see if I could find any further
specimens, but no, all the rest were the ordinary type. The first bush
was the one exception. Luckily it was not very big, and I managed to
dig it up and get it home alive, and after that there was no difficulty,
for it is healthy enough, and grows almost as well as the common
species. I set to work striking cuttings, and, after waiting until I
had a good supply on hand, sent specimens of the bloom to several big
nurserymen. They took it up at once with the utmost keenness, and I am
now able to sell cuttings as fast as I can strike them, and for a very
good price into the bargain. Of course this won't last for ever,
because by degrees other people will get their own stock, but luckily
the plant is a slow grower, and meantime they are obliged to come to me,
and I have the monopoly of the market. So my travels have turned out
more of a success in a monetary sense than I expected, and I am
beginning to realise that a man who understands botany, and who has also
a love for roaming about forbidden lands, may discover unknown
treasures, and do well for himself by bringing them home. It is a happy
discovery for me, for I have no chance in the beaten lines, and it will
be a solution of many difficulties if I can make a little money in this
way."
"You will go away, you mean? You will leave England and go abroad?"
queried Peggy, with a feeling that the foundations of the earth were
giving way beneath her, and that life itself was a delusion, since, at a
moment's notice, the pillar of strength on which she had depended above
all others could calmly announce its own purpose of withdrawal. "Do you
mean that you will settle there altogether, and never come home any
more?" She was under the impression that she had put the question in a
calm and impersonal manner, but in reality there was a wistful tremor in
the voice which Rob was quick to catch.
"I shall be able to answer that question better later on, Mariquita," he
said quietly. "It depends on--circumstances! But, so far as I can see,
these journeys must form an important part of my life; I must come and
go, and as there will necessarily be a certain amount of danger
involved, you needn't speak of it in public at present. It will be time
enough to tell the others, when I am about to start, for they will then
have so much less time to worry. I tell you now because--because I
always _did_ tell you all my plans, I suppose. It's an old habit."
"And you know that I am too sensible to worry. I promise to be duly
anxious when the time comes, but I really can't agitate myself about
lions' jaws in an English lane, or feel apprehensive of any more savage
assault, than we shall receive at the vicarage if you persist in
dawdling along at this rate! It's very kind of you to make an exception
in my favour, but it's an honour I could have done very well without.
It's a poor thing, I must say, to come home from India, and have old
friends begging you to settle down among them, and then immediately
turning round and saying, `I'm off to Africa!' as if your presence in
the same hemisphere was more than they could bear. You are a champion
wet blanket, Rob! Your items of good news are calculated to drive your
friend into melancholy madness. I hope Mellicent's disclosures will be
of a more agreeable nature, or I shall be sorry I came out at all."
"I _do_ love to see you in a temper, Mariquita. You are a capital
little spitfire. Go on abusing me, do! You can't think how I enjoy
it!" returned Rob promptly; which request, needless to say, was
sufficient to seal Miss Peggy's lips until the vicarage gate was
reached.
Two eager faces appeared pressed against a window, and Mrs Asplin and
Mellicent hurried out into the hall to greet their visitors and escort
them into the schoolroom with an air of suppressed excitement. Tea was
laid on the centre table in the old-time fashion which Peggy approved,
and the vicar was standing before the empty grate, trying to look
dignified and proper, with the most comical expression of amusement
twitching his long lean face and twinkling out of his eyes.
"What do you think?" began Mrs Asplin tragically, seating herself in
state in an old armchair and endeavouring to keep up an imposing front,
despite the fact that the absence of the fourth castor sent her tilting
first to one side and then to the other. "_What_ do you think we have
got to show you in the drawing-room?"
"What do you think? What do you think?" echoed Mellicent all in one
breath; and the two visitors glanced at each other in mischievous
amusement. These dear, simple-minded people so intensely enjoyed their
little mysteries and excitements that it would be cruel indeed not to
indulge them. Rob ruffled his locks and frowned bewilderment, while
Peggy rolled her eyes to the ceiling and cried:
"I've _no_ idea, but don't tell; let me guess it! Animal or mineral?"
"Animal."
"Fine or superfine?"
"Not fair! Not fair! You can only put questions that can be answered
by `Yes' or `No.'"
"How strict you are, to be sure! Well, then, is it mineral? No!
Vegetable? No! Animal? Yes! Ornamental? It _must_ be ornamental, or
you wouldn't be so proud of it!"
Mellicent and her mother looked at one another and queried with uplifted
eyebrows. The girl formed a vigorous "No!" The woman smiled
indulgently and said:
"I think it is! I think it is _very_ pretty!" and the vicar could throw
no further light on the subject than to say that he agreed with both.
"It is useful then?" queried Peggy next; but this question fared no
better than the first.
"Not a bit," cried Mellicent. "It used to be, or, at least, _part_ of
it did, but now it can do nothing at all but just--"
"Be careful, dear! You will give them a clue. Oh yes, I think we can
say it is useful. Its general characteristic is usefulness, and it will
soon settle down again into its old ways."
Peggy turned to Rob with a gesture of despair, and then started afresh
on a different tack.
"Is it an article in general use? Do you find one in every house?"
"No, no!"
"In our house?"
Giggles from Mellicent, reproving glances from her father, a decided
"No!" from Mrs Asplin.
"In Rob's house?"
"N-ot at present!"
"Could you have more than one in any house at the same time?"
Flutters of consternation and alarm--mysterious chuckles of laughter.
"You _could_, but one at a time is enough for most people. Two or three
would be rather embarrassing!"
"Especially in a small house, because where should we sit in the
evening? There would be no room for us!" said Mellicent meaningly, at
which mysterious reply the listeners grew more mystified than ever.
"It must be _very_ large!" they murmured thoughtfully. "What can it be?
We shall never guess, so we might as well give it up at once and let
you tell us. What _is_ the wretched thing?"
"It's not wretched at all! It is very, very happy! It is--take hold of
your chair, Peg, and hold tight! It is--_An Engaged Couple_!"
"A _wh-wh-what_?" Peggy let her muscles slacken and leant back, limp
and shapeless, against the cushions, while Rob, in his turn, gave a
whistle of amazement.
"An engaged couple! Oh, I say! Has that deep old Rex stolen a march on
us behind our backs, and brought his _fiancee_?"
"No, indeed! Nothing of the sort! Rex has no sweetheart except his old
mother. I'd be delighted if he had--that's to say, if he could find a
girl worthy of him, but I've never seen her yet. Guess again, dears!
You are very hot, but it's not Rex."
"Rosalind!" was Peggy's first thought; but no, it could not be Rosalind.
That, of course, was impossible, while Oswald was already a married
man, and Mellicent obviously out of the question. Who could it be?
Peggy mentally summoned before her every member of the old merry party,
and hazarded yet another suggestion.
"Not Fraulein? Good old Fraulein, come back from Germany with a long-
bearded professor in her train?"
"Not Fraulein, no, but the professor might apply. Nearer home, child!
You have not guessed every member of the family yet. You have not
thought of--"
"Esther!" screamed Peggy, and instantly read confirmation in the smiles
of assent. "It is! It is! Esther and the man with the dusty coat!
Oh, how lovely! How perfectly, deliciously lovely and quaint! Not an
old maid, after all, but the first to be engaged and married! Oh,
Esther, Esther! Who would have thought it? Who would have believed
that you could condescend to such foolishness?"
"Ha! ha! ha!" guffawed Rob, in rolling, subterranean laughter. "What a
joke! I'll have something to say to Miss Esther on this subject! She
must be made to realise the inconsistency of her conduct. What about
the ladies' school?"
"Is she fond of him? Is he fond of her? When did it happen? When did
they come? How did they break it to you? Did they walk in together,
hand in hand, and kneel down before you, so that you could say, `Bless
you, my children,' in approved stage fashion?"
"Yes, they did," cried Mellicent gushingly. "At least, if they didn't,
it was almost as good. She was coming home over Sunday, you know, and
he met her in town, and--and _asked_ her, you know, and then he got into
the train, and intended to go as far as the first station, and he went
on and on, until suddenly here they were, and father and mother and I
were standing on the platform to receive them. And _she_ got out and
_he_ got out, and they looked so silly and she said, `M-m-my friend,
Professor Reid,' and he tried to shake hands with mother three separate
times over, and couldn't find her hand, he was so horribly embarrassed,
and then we all drove home in the most horrible silence, and came into
the drawing-room, and Esther went crimson in the face, and said, `Father
and mother, I want to tell you--Professor Reid has asked me--I have per-
omised to be his wife,' and he scraped his feet on the floor and blurted
out funny short sentences, three words at a time, `Love her dearly,'
`Feel much honoured,' `Object of life,' `Make her happy,' and mother
said, `Oh, my dear child, I am so glad! I am so thankful for your
happiness!' and set to work and cried all the rest of the evening, and
father wriggled about in his coat and looked horribly uncomfortable, and
said, `Hum--hum--hum. Come into the study, and have a smoke!'"
"My dear Mellicent! You have a most uncomfortable memory! Your
capacity for unimportant detail is truly astounding!" cried the vicar
protestingly; but Mellicent's description had been received with so much
interest by the visitors that the snub had but little effect. She
proceeded to enlarge on the appearance, manner, and eccentricities of
the brother-to-be, while Peggy gasped, gurgled, and exclaimed with a
fervour great enough to satisfy the most exacting of gossips.
"I never, no, never, heard anything so exciting. Did she tell you that
I met them in London? I remarked on the condition of his coat--inches
thick in dust, I do assure you, and she was haughty, and gave me to
understand that he had something better to do than brush his clothes. I
hope she won't bear me a grudge for my indiscretion. It will be a
lesson to me not to make personal remarks for the future. Dear, dear
me, how I do long to peep in at the drawing-room window! Do you think
they would mind very much, if they looked up and saw my face flattened
against the pane? When are we going to see them, and to what class of
engaged couples do they belong? Proper? Mediocre? Gushingly loving?"
"H'm!" deliberated Mellicent uncertainly. "He calls her, `My dear.' If
I were engaged, and a man called me `My dear,' I should break it off on
the spot; but I believe he likes her all the same. He kept handing her
the butter and cruet at breakfast every other minute, and he jumps up to
open the door for her, and asks if she doesn't feel the draught. And as
for her, she perfectly scowls at you if you dare to breathe in his
presence. She thinks he is the most wonderful man that ever lived."
"Quite right too! I mean to be very proud of him myself; for he is to
be my own son. I don't know him yet, but from all we have heard I am
sure it will be easy to take him into our hearts. Peggy dear, we have a
quarter of an hour before tea, and we must not disturb the poor dears
until then, so come into the garden and have a walk round with me. We
haven't had a chat to ourselves for an age of Sundays."
No, Peggy reflected, this was quite true; but there had been reasons why
she, at least, had avoided _tete-a-tete_ interviews, and she had
believed that Mrs Asplin would be even more anxious than herself to
leave the dreaded subject untouched. Such, however, was evidently not
the case, for no sooner was the garden reached than she burst into
impetuous speech.
"Oh, Peggy, child, isn't this delightful? Isn't it beautiful? Isn't it
just the most wonderful and unexpected answer to my prayers? Here have
I been troubling my foolish head about what was to become of all these
dear people when I was not here, and now this smooths every difficulty
away. It troubled me to think of my dear girl working for herself, and
finding the fight grow harder and harder as the years passed, as all
women must, and of Austin left to Mellicent's scatter-brained care; but
you see I might have had more faith, for my fears were needless Esther's
home will be a stronghold for the family, and Professor Reid is so
congenial in his tastes that Austin will find unending interest in his
society. Of course they could not live together, but you know the vicar
has decided that he cannot keep on his parish much longer, as he is not
strong enough to do justice to the work, and when the break comes it
would be delightful if he and Mellicent could take a little house near
Esther in Oxford, where they could see her constantly and have the
benefit of her wise advice. It would be a great thing for `Chubby,'
too, for she has as much worldly wisdom as a baby, and indeed her dear
father is little better. It's no wonder I am pleased, is it, Peggy,
when I think of all that this engagement means?"
Peggy looked at her wonderingly. Flushed cheeks, radiant smiles, eyes
ashine with happiness, and all this pleasure at the thought of what was
to happen after her own death! Twenty-one drew a breath of dismay, and
cried reproachfully:
"I don't know how you _can_ talk so! I don't know how you can bear to
discuss such things in that complacent fashion. I won't _think_ of it
even, but you seem quite calm about it. You can talk, and even
_laugh_--"
"Yes!" cried Mrs Asplin quickly. "I can! I'm thankful for it. Many a
time in these last few weeks, Peggy, I've thanked my old father for the
gift of his irrepressible Irish spirit, and I've thanked God too, dear,
that, old and weary as I am, I can still look on the bright side, and
keep a cheery heart. It's a great blessing, Peg, a wonderful blessing,
for it helps not only ourselves, but those around us, over many a dismal
road. You have the gift, so see that you cultivate it, child, and never
let yourself imagine that you are pleasing God by going about with a
gloomy face and a furnace of sighs. The world wants all the sunshine it
can get, and deary me! what a pleasure it is to see a smiling face!
It's just a real help and lift on the way."
"It's a help to see _you_. I always feel better for it," returned Peggy
earnestly. There was a moment's silence, then suddenly she clasped her
hands round the other's arm with an eager question. "Tell me, what does
it feel like to be face to face with death as you are now? To live with
the expectation of it with you day and night? To know for a certainty
that it is near? Tell me, how does it feel?"
Mrs Asplin stood still in the middle of the path and drew a long
fluttering breath. Her eyes grew rapt, and she clasped the girl's hand
in an ecstasy of emotion.
"Peggy, it's--_wonderful_!" she sighed. "It is like being suddenly
lifted on to a plateau and seeing life above the clouds! Everything is
different, everything is altered! Things that were forgotten before
seem now to fill in the whole view; things that were large and looming,
seem, oh, so small, so mean and trifling! I look back, and can hardly
understand how I worried myself about useless trifles--little
shabbinesses about the house, upset of arrangements, clothes and food
and holiday-making. When you once realise the uncertainty of life, they
seem of such unutterable unimportance. And it helps one to be gentle,
too, because if by chance it should happen to be the last day one had to
live, how sad it would be to speak hasty words, or to leave some one
sorrowing because of neglect or unkindness! It makes one long to do
kind things and say cheering words, and oh, so terrified of losing an
opportunity which may never come again! The doctor's verdict was a
great shock to me at first, but I am gradually coming to look upon it as
one of the greatest of blessings, for it's a hasty, impetuous creature
I've been all my days, and this quiet waiting time is going to teach me
many lessons. I ought to be grateful and happy that it has been granted
me."
Peggy bit her lips and looked at the ground. She could not trust
herself to speak, but in her heart she was saying:
"And after all, she may live longer than I! Every life is uncertain.
_I_ ought to feel like that too. I ought to climb up to that high
ground above the clouds. It's because she is a Christian that she feels
like that. I used always to think that very good people must be dull
and gloomy, but Mrs Asplin is the happiest creature I know, and so full
of fun... We used to go to her for help in all our school-day pranks,
and now when she knows she is going to die, she is happy still, and
quite calm and bright. I should like--oh, I should like to be good like
that! One can't always be young, and pretty, and happy, and strong; and
if I am going to be a Christian at all, I want to begin now, and not
wait until the troubles begin. That would feel mean! I wouldn't treat
any one on earth like that--ignore him altogether so long as everything
went well, and fly to him for help the moment I was in difficulties...
That awful night when Arthur told us that the doctors would not pass him
for the Army, Mrs Asplin said that there were more ways than one of
being a soldier, and I knew what she meant. `A soldier of Christ!' _I_
could be that as well as Arthur, and I have been longing to fight all my
life... How does it go? ...
"`Soldiers of Christ arise,
And put your armour on,
Strong in the strength which God supplies
Through His Eternal Son!'
"Oh, what a glorious army! What an honour to belong to it! I'm only a
poor little recruit, but if Christ would train me--"
Peggy's heart swelled with longing, and she clasped her hands nervously
together. It was a great moment, and her wonted self-confidence failed
her on this threshold of another life. The downcast fame grew so
anxious and troubled that Mrs Asplin became distressed at the sight,
and, as usual, took the blame upon herself.
"Dear child," she said fondly, "I'm afraid I have oppressed you with the
weight of my burdens. It seems a strange thing that I should have
chosen a young thing like you as _confidante_, but at the time my
thoughts seemed to turn naturally to you. If Esther had known how weak
I was, she would have felt it her duty to give up her situation and come
home, and I was most unwilling to interfere with what I then believed to
be her life's work. Mellicent would have been quite overwhelmed, poor
child; and as for my boy, he would have worried himself to death, when
he needs all his courage to help him through these years of waiting.
But you were here, almost like a second daughter, and yet living so much
apart that you would not be constantly shadowed by the remembrance, and
so it came to pass that to you, dear, I opened my heart. You have been
all sweetness and consideration, and for my own sake I have no regrets,
but I shall be miserable if I see you depressed. No more sighs, Peggy,
_please_! I tell you honestly, dear, that I am better in health than I
was two months ago! Rest and care, and freedom from suspense, have done
good work already, so don't begin to lament too soon, for I may cheat
the doctors yet. Now smile and look like yourself, for we can allow no
doleful faces to-day. It is a happy day for me, for once more I have
two sons to love and be proud of. There goes the bell, and we must go
in to tea and to entertain the lovers. Don't be _too_ severe, darling,
for they are very new and most amusingly self-conscious. I am sure poor
dear Esther will feel it quite an ordeal to face you."
Peggy smiled at that, as it had been intended she should, and the next
moment Mellicent came flying down the path, her eyes dancing with
excitement.
"They've come!" she cried. "They are in the schoolroom waiting for you.
The professor is standing in the middle of the floor smiling into space
like a china image, and Esther is horribly embarrassed. I told her that
Peggy was here, and she _q-quailed_! Literally quailed before me. I
saw her do it!"
"She may well quail!" cried Peggy meaningly. She threw back her head,
peaked her brows over eyes of solemnest reproof, and marched into the
house with a Mariquita stride.