The Long Vacation

by Charlotte M. Yonge

  'Twas in the summer-time so sweet, When hearts and flowers are both in season, That who, of all the world should meet, In "twilight eve," but Love and Reason. T. MOORE.

  That moon and sparkling lights did not shine alone for Gerald andDolores. There were multitudes on the cliffs and the beach, and SirFerdinand and Lady Travis Underwood with their party had come to anirregular sort of dinner-supper at St. Andrew's Rock. With them, orrather before them, came Mr. Bramshaw, the engineer, who sent inhis card to Mr. Clement Underwood, and entered with a leathern bag,betraying the designs on Penbeacon.

  Not that these were more than an introduction. Indeed, under the presentcircumstances, a definite answer was impossible; but there was anotherquestion, namely, that which regarded Sophia Vanderkist. She had indeedlong been of age, but of course her suitor could not but look to herformer guardian for consent and influence. He was a very bearded man,pleasant-spoken and gentlemanlike, and Lancelot had prepared his brotherby saying that he knew all about the family, and they were highlyrespectable solicitors at Minsterham, one son a master in the school atStoneborough. So Clement listened favourably, liked the young man, andthough his fortunes at present depended on his work, and Lady Vanderkistwas no friend to his suit, gave him fair encouragement, and invited himto join the meal, though the party was already likely to be too numerousfor the dining-room.

  That mattered the less when all the young and noisy ones could beplaced, to their great delight, under the verandah outside, where theycould talk and laugh to their utmost content, without incommoding UncleClement, or being awed by Cousin Fernan's black beard and Cacique-likegravity. How they discussed and made fun over the humours of the bazaar;nor was Gerald's wit the slackest, nor his mirth the most lagging. Hewas very far from depressed now that the first shock was over. He knewhimself to be as much loved or better than ever by those whose affectionhe valued, and he was sure of Dolores' heart as he had never yet been.The latent Bohemianism in his nature woke with the prospect of havinghis own way to make, and being free from the responsibilities of anestate, and his chivalry was excited by the pleasure of protecting hislittle half-sister, in pursuit of whom he intended to go.

  So, light-hearted enough to amaze the elders who knew the secret, hejumped up to go with the rest of the party to the cliff walk, where thebrilliant ships could best be seen. Lance, though his headache was,as Geraldine said, visible on his brow, declared that night air andsea-breeze were the best remedy, and went in charge of the two boys,lest his dainty Ariel should make an excursion over the rocks; and thefour young ladies were escorted by Gerald and the engineer.

  The elders were much too tired for further adventures, and Geraldineand Marilda were too intimate to feel bound to talk. Only a few wordsdropped now and then about Emilia and her hospital, where she was tobe left for a year, while Fernan with Marilda visited his Americanestablishments, and on their return would decide whether she wouldreturn, or whether they would take Franceska, or a younger one, in herstead. The desertion put Marilda out of heart, and she sighed what apity it was that the girl would not listen to young Brown.

  Meanwhile, Clement was making Ferdinand go over with him Edgar's wordsabout his marriage. They had all been written down immediately after hisdeath, and had been given to Felix with the certificates of the marriageand birth and of the divorce, and they were now no doubt with otherdocuments and deeds in the strong-box at Vale Leston Priory. Fernancould only repeat the words which had been burnt in on his memory,and promise to hunt up the evidence of the form and manner of thedissolution of the marriage at Chicago. Like Clement himself, hevery much doubted whether the allegation would not break down in someimportant point, but he wished Gerald to be assured that if the worstcame to the worst, he would never be left destitute, since thatfirst meeting--the baptism, and the receiving him from the dyingfather--amounted to an adoption sacred in his eyes.

  Then, seeing how worn-out Clement looked, he abetted Sibby andGeraldine, in shutting their patient safe up in his bedroom, not to be"mislested" any more that night, said Sibby. So he missed the rush ofthe return. First came the two sober sisters, Anna and Emilia, onlysorry that Aunt Cherry had not seen the lovely sea, the exquisitetwinkle of silvered waves as the moon rose, and then the outburst ofcoloured lights, taking many forms, and the brilliant fireworks dartingto and fro, describing curves, bursting and scattering their sparks.Emilia had, however, begun by the anxious question--

  "Nan, what is it with Gerald?"

  "I don't quite know. I suspect Dolores has somehow teased him, though itis not like her."

  "Then there is something in it?"

  "I can't help believing so, but I don't believe it has come toanything."

  "And is she not a most disagreeable girl! Those black eyebrows do lookso sullen and thunderous."

  "Oh no, Emmie, I thought so at first, but she can't help her eyebrows;and when you come to know her there is a vast deal in her--thought, andoriginality, and purpose. I am sure it has been good for Gerald. He hasseemed more definite and in earnest lately, less as if he were playingwith everything, with all views all round."

  "But his spirits are so odd!--so merry and then so grave."

  "That is only during these last few days, and I fancy there must be somehitch--perhaps about Dolores' father, and we are all in such haste."

  Emilia did not pursue the subject. She had never indulged in the follyof expecting any signs of actual love from her cousin. She had alwaysknown that the family regarded any closer bond as impossible; but shehad been always used to be his chief confidante, and she missed hisattention, but she would not own this even to herself, go she talkedof her hospital schemes with much zest, and how she should spend heroutings at a favourite sisterhood.

  "For," said she, "I am tired of luxury."

  It had been a delightful walk to Anna, with her companion sister,discussing Adrian, or Emily's plans, or Sophy's prospects. They had comehome the sooner, for Emily had to pack, as she was to spend a littlewhile with her mother at Vale Leston. Where was Franceska? They weresomewhat dismayed not to find her, but it was one of the nights wheneverybody loses everybody, and no doubt she was with Uncle Lance, orwith Sophy, or Gerald.

  No such thing. Here was Uncle Lance with his two boys in varying kindsof delight, Adrian pronouncing that "it was very jolly, the most rippingsight he ever saw," then eating voraciously, with his eyes half shut,and tumbling off to bed "like a veritable Dutchman," said Lance, whohad his own son in a very different mood, with glowing cheeks, sparklingeyes, appetite gone for very excitement, as he sprang about and wavedhis hands to describe the beautiful course of the rockets, and the fallof the stars from the Roman candles.

  "Oh, such as I never--never saw! How shall I get Pearl and Audrey to geteven a notion of it? Grandpapa will guess in a moment! Oh, and the sea,all shine with a path of--of glory! Oh, daddy, there are things morebeautiful than anybody could ever dream of!"

  "Go and dream then, my sprite. Try to be as still as you can, even ifyou do go on feeling the yacht, and seeing the sparks when you shut youreyes. For you see my head is bad, and I do want a chance of sleep."

  "Poor daddy! I'll try, even if the music goes on in my head.Good-night."

  "That will keep him quieter than anything," said Lance; "but I would notgive much for the chance of his not seeing the dawn."

  "Or you either, I fear," said Geraldine. "Have you slept since thediscovery?"

  "I shall make my sleep up at home, now I have had the whole out. Whocomes now?"

  It was Sophy, with her look of

  "Gentle wishes long subdued, Subdued and cherished long."

  Mr. Bramshaw had brought her to the door, and no doubt she and he hadhad a quiet, restful time of patient planning; but the not findingFrancie soon filled her with great alarm and self-reproach for havinglet herself be drawn away from the party, when all had stood togetheron Miss Mohun's lawn. She wanted to start off at once in search of
hersister, and was hardly pacified by finding that Gerald was still tocome. Then, however, Gerald did come, and alone. He said he had justseen the Clipstone party off. No, he had not seen Francie there; but headded, rather as if recovering from a bewilderment, as Sophy was askinghim to come out with her again, "Oh, never fear. Lord Ivinghoe was theresomewhere!"

  "I thought he was gone."

  "No, he said the yacht got in too late for the train. Never mind, Sophy,depend upon it she is all right."

  None of the ladies present felt equally pleased, but in a minute or twomore in came a creature, bright, lovely, and flushed, with two starryeyes, gleaming like the blue lights on the ships.

  "Oh, Cousin Marilda, have I kept you waiting? I am so sorry!"

  "Where have you been?"

  "Only on the cliff walk. Lord Ivinghoe took me to see the place wherehis father had the accident, and we watched the fireworks from there.Oh, it was so nice, and still more beautiful when the strange lightswere out and the people gone, and only the lovely quiet moon shining onthe sea, and a path of light from Venus."

  "I should think so," muttered Gerald, and Marilda began--

  "Pretty well, miss."

  "I am very sorry to bo so late," began Francie, and Geraldine caught anopportunity while shawling Marilda to say--

  "Dear, good Marilda, I implore you to say nothing to put it into herhead or Alda's. I don't think any harm is done yet, but it can't beanything. It can't come to good, and it would only be unhappiness tothem all."

  "Oh, ah! well, I'll try. But what a chance it would be, and how happy itwould make poor Alda!"

  "It can't be. The boy's mother would never let him look at her! Don't,don't, don't!"

  "Well, I'll try not." She kissed her fondly.

  Gerald's walk had been with Dolores of course, a quiet, grave, earnesttalk and walk, making them feel how much they belonged to one another,and building schemes in which they were to learn the nature of the poorand hard-worked, by veritably belonging to them, and being thus ableto be of real benefit. In truth, neither of them, in their braveyouthfulness, really regretted Vale Leston, and the responsibilities;and, as Gerald declared, he would give it up tomorrow gladly if he couldsave his name and his father's from shame, but, alas! the things wenttogether.

  Dolores wished to write fully to her father, and that Gerald shoulddo the same, but she did not wish to have the matter discussed inthe family at once, before his answer came, and Gerald had agreed tosilence, as indeed they would not call themselves engaged till thattime. Indeed, Dolores said there was so much excitement about CaptainArmytage that no one was thinking of her.

  CHAPTER XXIV. -- COUNSELS OF PATIENCE