When the vicarage was reached a reconnoitre round the garden discovered
the murmur of voices in the schoolroom, and marshalled by Arthur the
three visitors crept silently forward until they were close upon the
window, when Eunice hung modestly in the rear, while her companions
flattened their faces against the panes. A shriek of dismay sounded
from within, as Mellicent dropped a work-basket on the floor and buried
her face in her hands, under the conviction that the house was besieged
by wild Indians, and the advance party close upon her. A smaller shriek
echoed from the further end of the room where Esther stood, being pinned
up in a calico lining by the hands of the local dressmaker, and the
smallest shriek of all came from the region of the sewing-machine, where
Mrs Asplin let the treadle work up and down by itself, and clasped her
heart instead of the seam. Esther fled precipitately behind a screen,
Mellicent flopped on a chair, and Mrs Asplin cried loudly:
"Go away, go away. Come in, dear boy! Is it really you? What in the
world do you mean by startling us like this?"
"I've told you before, Arthur Saville, that it drives me crazy when
people come suddenly glaring in through the window! You'll kill me
some, day, or turn me into a jibbering idiot, and _then_ you'll be
sorry! Front doors are made to come in by, 'specially--especially when
visitors are with you!" cried Mellicent severely, and at this Mrs
Asplin turned towards Eunice with her sunny, welcoming smile.
"You are Miss Rollo, aren't you, dear? This bad boy had no business to
bring you in here, but I've heard of you so often from Mellicent that
you don't seem like a stranger. We are hard at work preparing for the
wedding, so you must excuse the muddle. We are delighted to see you!"
"Oh, Eunice won't mind. She has heard so much about you too, mater,
that she would have been quite disappointed to have found you sitting in
the drawing-room like any ordinary, commonplace person. Sorry I
startled you! I wouldn't make you jibber for the world, Chubby, so I'll
knock next time, to let you know I'm coming. But where's the bride?
Where's the bride? Is she coming out from behind that screen, or have I
to go and fetch her?"
At that Esther came forth quickly enough, a blue jacket fastened over
the calico lining, and her cheeks aglow with blushes, for here was a
double embarrassment--to face Arthur's banter for the first time since
her engagement, and to be introduced to the great Miss Rollo in a
dressing-jacket! "The great Miss Rollo," however, turned out to be a
simple-looking girl, who looked much more afraid of her companions than
her companions were of her, while when she came face to face with Arthur
he seemed suddenly sobered, and uttered his congratulations in quite a
quiet, earnest voice. Was this Esther? he was asking himself--this
rosy, smiling girl the sober, long-visaged Esther who had seemed so far
removed from youthful romance? Love was indeed a mighty force, if it
could bring about such a change as this--the right sort of love--that is
to say, unselfish, ennobling, a love which has no thought for itself,
but lives in the happiness of another. As Arthur looked at his old
friend, and noted the softening of eye and lip, the new sweetness of
expression, there rose before his imagination another face, which for
many years had seemed to him the most beautiful in the world, but which
now appeared suddenly hard and loveless. He never realised the fact for
himself, but it was really in this moment of meeting with Esther in the
flush of her happiness that the last link was snapped in the chain which
had bound him to Rosalind Darcy.
The dream seemed to him to have lasted quite a long time, but in reality
the pause was but of a moment's duration, and had been abundantly filled
by Mellicent, who having spied Arthur's parcel was consumed with
curiosity to discover its contents.
"What's in the box?" she cried with the directness for which she was
celebrated, and Arthur picked up his parcel, and balanced it in his
hands with a roguish glance in the bride's direction.
"Something for Esther, for the bottom drawer."
"The bottom drawer! What _are_ you talking about?"
"Every engaged young woman has a bottom drawer! It's part of the
performance, and you can't be properly engaged without it. It's the
bottom drawer of the wardrobe generally, and all sorts of things live in
it--everything and anything that she can lay hands on, to put aside for
the new house. Fancy work, pictures, pottery, Christmas presents, and
bazaar gleanings--in they go, and when she has friends to tea they sit
in rows on the floor, and she undoes the wrapping, and they groan with
envy, and cry, `How sweet! How perfectly sweet! Won't it look sweet in
the drawing-room!'"
"You seem to know a great deal about it!"
"I do! I've heard about it scores of times, and of course I knew that
Esther would have a bottom drawer like the rest."
"You were mistaken then! Esther has nothing of the sort. I am to be
engaged such a short time, Arthur, that I have had no leisure to think
of such things. In any case, I don't think it is much in my line."
"Well, you needn't be so superior! If you haven't got a bottom drawer,
you have the next thing to it. Who went over the house the very day she
came home, grabbing all the things that belonged to her, and taking them
up to her room?" cried Mellicent the irrepressible. "Who took the
little blue jug off my mantelpiece? Who took the brass candlestick from
the hall? Who took the pictures from the schoolroom? Who took the
toilet-cover that she said I might have, and left me with nothing but
two horrid mats? You _did_, you know you did, and it is not a bit of
use giving yourself airs!"
Evidently not. Esther hung her head, and admitted the impeachment.
Well, she _had_ thought that it would be nice to have her own things--it
_did_ seem wise to collect them at once, before she grew too busy! It
was very, very kind of Arthur, and she was truly grateful. Should she
open the parcel now?
"Of course you must! Your first present! It is quite an event, and
just what I should have expected, that it should come from Arthur. Dear
lad, always so thoughtful!" murmured Mrs Asplin fondly. "Open it on
the table, and we will sit round and watch. Come, Miss Rollo, sit by
me. Perhaps you are in the secret already, and know what it is?"
"No, we don't know. We inquired, but he wouldn't tell us anything about
it."
"But it's probably salt-cellars! Men have so little imagination. They
always take refuge in salt-cellars!"
This from Peggy, while Esther looked polite and murmured:
"Most useful, I'm sure. Nothing more so!" and Mellicent grimaced
vigorously.
"Uninteresting, I call it! Now joolery is far nicer. I wish it were
joolery, but I'm afraid it's too big. Open it, do! Cut the string, and
don't fumble all day at one knot! The professor will buy you some more,
if you ask him nicely."
"Mellicent!" cried Esther deeply; but she cut the string as desired,
laid back the wrappings, and took up a small tissue paper parcel.
"Just a small trifle. Something useful for the bottom drawer!" murmured
Arthur modestly, and the next moment the parcel fell on the table with a
crash, while every one shrieked in chorus. Something had gone off with
a bang, something fell out of its wrappings and clattered wood against
wood. A mouse-trap! A little, penny mouse-trap of plainest, commonest
description! They could hardly believe their eyes--could do nothing but
exclaim, gasp, and upbraid at one and the same moment.
"You _said_ it was a wedding present!"
"I never did. It was you who said that. I said `something useful for
the bottom drawer.' I hope, dear Esther, that you may find it very,
very useful."
"You mean creature! I hope it may be nothing of the kind; I might have
known it was a trick. Now, what is in the other parcels? because if
there are any more Jack-in-the-box springs, I prefer not to open them.
One shock of that kind is quite enough."
But Arthur vowed that not another spring was to be found, and, thus
reassured, Esther opened in turns a spice-box, a nutmeg-grater, a box of
matches, a flour dredger, and a bundle of clothes-pegs.
Each object was greeted with a fresh peal of laughter from the
onlookers, who, having recovered from the first disappointment,
thoroughly enjoyed the joke played upon the sober Esther, while Esther
herself tried hard to be superior and scathing, and Peggy's bright eyes
roamed round in search of a final development.
It was not like Arthur, she told herself, to disappoint a friend even in
fun, and she felt convinced that the joke would not end as it had begun.
One by one she picked up the scattered articles and examined them
gingerly. The mouse-trap was guiltless of bait, the spice-box empty as
when it left the shop, but the matchbox felt strangely heavy. She shook
it, and felt something tilt forward, peeped inside, and spied a small
morocco box.
"Joolery! Joolery!" shrieked Mellicent loudly. "It is--I said it was!
Oh, the darling--sweety--pet! I wish--I wish I were going to be
married!"
It was the daintiest little diamond brooch that was ever seen. A gold
bar with a cluster of stones in the centre; handsome, yet unobtrusive;
brilliant, yet modest; the very thing to suit at once the bride's quiet
taste, and the sphere into which she was going. She was unaffectedly
charmed, holding it out to the light to admire the stones, her own eyes
almost as bright as themselves.
"Oh, Arthur dear, and I called you mean! It was just like you to choose
a ridiculous way of giving this lovely present. Fancy me with a diamond
brooch--I shall feel so grand. How can I ever thank you enough?"
Mrs Asplin dropped a tear on the shabby table-cloth, for she never
_could_ resist a tear when she was very happy, and Mellicent wailed
sadly:
"I wish I were married! I wish I were married! It would suit me far
better than her. I wish I had been engaged first, after all, because
now every one will give Esther a present as a compliment to the family,
and when it comes to my turn they will think they have done their duty,
and send nothing at all, or only some horrid, niggly little thing like a
bread-fork or crumb-scoop! I just know how it will be--"
"But you won't need presents, dear. You are going to marry a
millionaire, and live in the lap of luxury ever after. You settled that
years ago," said Peggy slyly; but Arthur smiled reassuringly in the
troubled face, and said:
"Never mind, Chubby, you shall have exactly the same present from me, at
any rate! Diamond brooch, mouse-trap, clothes-pegs, all complete. I'll
stand by you. Just drop me a line when it's settled, and I will look
after them at once."
"Oh, thank you, Arthur--I will!" agreed Mellicent with a fervour which
evoked a peal of laughter from her companions. Esther gathered together
her possessions and ran off to her own room to put on her dress, and
Mrs Asplin escorted her visitors to the drawing-room, where tea was
served for their refreshment. Another woman might have apologised for
the shabby dress which she had donned for a hard day's work, and felt
uncomfortable at having been discovered in such guise by a young lady
accustomed to move in the highest circle of London society, but that was
not Mrs Asplin's way. She seated herself in the sunniest seat that the
room afforded, and picked off the odd ends of thread which were
scattered over her skirt with smiling unconcern, too much engrossed in
thinking of her guests to have any care for her own appearance. She
made Eunice sit beside her, and seeing that the girl looked shy, chatted
away to her in friendly Irish fashion, so as to put her at her ease.
Her face lightened as she did so, for she was thinking to herself: "But
she is charming! A dear, little tender face that might be quite
beautiful some day. The child is half alive, but if some one woke her
up--I wonder now if Arthur--" She turned suddenly, and met Arthur's eyes
fixed upon her, intent and questioning, as if for some reason he was
keenly interested in her impressions of Eunice Rollo. Was it
imagination, or did he flush beneath her questioning glance? For one
moment she felt sure that he did, but the next it seemed as if she must
have been mistaken, for he was addressing her with all his wonted self-
possession.
"Mater, I've been telling these girls that I'm going to get up a picnic
next week. I want to arrange some sort of a jollification before Esther
goes, and a picnic seems the best thing to try for in this weather.
Professor Reid will be here, so he will take care of Esther, and I'll
get the two Darcys to join, and hire a chaperon for the occasion. It
would be too tiring for you or my mother, for I want to fly to pasture
new and go some little distance; but if I speak nicely to little Mrs
Bryce, she'll come like a shot, and be an addition to the party, for she
is a dear little soul, and younger than many people of half her age.
You'll trust the girls to me, won't you, if I can fix it up?"
"Of course I will! It will be a pleasant break in the midst of our
preparations. Where do you think of going? Have you made any plans, or
is it still in the air?"
Arthur nodded his head in complacent fashion. "Now I'll tell you all
about it! I have been making inquiries for the last few days, and have
pretty well made out my programme. This picnic is to be given in
Esther's honour, and for once I am going to be extravagant, and hire a
saloon carriage to take us in state to the place where we would be. You
live in the country, and woods and dales are no novelty to you, so we
are going to be adventurous this time, and go to the sea!"
"The sea!" echoed Mrs Asplin in dismay; but her quiet voice was drowned
by the chorus of exclamations in which the girls gave vent to their
delight. To people who live in inland places the very idea of visiting
the sea brings with it a sense of exhilaration, and the expectation of
Arthur's picnic was trebled at once by the sound of that magic name.
They questioned eagerly, even Eunice putting in her query with the rest,
and Arthur smilingly unfolded his scheme.
A two hours' journey would take them within five miles of an East Coast
village, where some years before he had discovered an ideal spot for a
picnic. This was no less than a tiny island lying out some distance
from the shore--a charming little islet, its shores washed by the waves,
its crest covered with grass, and shadowed by a tuft of trees. There
were a few good boats to be obtained, and the fishermen would help Rob
and himself to row the party across, while, once arrived on the island,
what could be more delightful than to sit on the sand with the waves
splashing up to their very feet, to drink in the fresh sea breeze, and
enjoy their luncheon under the shade of the trees? They would have to
leave early, as it might grow chilly in such an exposed place, but as
the last train left the station at seven o'clock, they would have no
temptation to prolong their stay.
The chorus of delight grew louder than ever as he spoke, and Mrs
Asplin's feeble objections were scarcely allowed a hearing. The girls
laughed her to scorn when she tried to prove the superiority of places
in the neighbourhood, and even Arthur paid less than his usual deference
to her opinion, though he did check himself in the midst of an
explanation to ask what objections she had to offer to his plan.
"I--I--Oh, none at all, only it is so far-off, and I'm nervous about
you, dears! If you were late getting back--"
"But we can't be late! The train settles that question. If that is the
only fear you have, you may put your mind at rest at once, dear. The
train settles that business for us."
Arthur turned aside, as if the last word had been spoken on the subject;
but Peggy suspected a deeper meaning to Mrs Asplin's words, and hung
back on her way to the gate, to link her arm in that of her kind friend,
and beg for an explanation.
"Oh, Peg, it's the sea, the cruel sea!" cried Mrs Asplin then. "I have
such a terror of the water since my boy was drowned! It's over ten
years ago now, but it's as fresh with me as if it had been just
yesterday. My bonnie boy! You never saw him, Peg, but he was my first,
and even Rex himself was never quite the same. It's foolish of me, and
sinful into the bargain, for you are in God's keeping, wherever you may
go, and it would be selfish to spoil your enjoyment. I will try to
overcome my fear, but, Peggy dear, you know what good reason I have for
dreading suspense just now--and as you love me, don't let them miss that
train! If you were late, if you didn't appear at the right time, I
should be terrified, and imagine all sorts of horrors. I--I don't know
what would happen to me! Let nothing, _nothing_ make you late.
Remember me, Peg, in the midst of your pleasuring!"
"Mater, I will!" cried Peggy solemnly. She looked in the sweet, worn
face, and her heart beat quickly. A hundred resolutions had she made in
her life, and alas! had also broken, but this time it would go hardly
with her if she neglected her vow to her second mother.