Milly Darrell

by M. E. Braddon

built, and had quite a baronial look, Ithought. There was a wide stone terrace with ponderous moss-grown stonebalustrades round three sides of it, and at each angle a broad flightof steps leading down to a second terrace, with sloping green banksthat melted into the turf of the lawn. The house stood on the summit ofa hill, and from one side commanded a noble view of the sea.

  A lady came out of the curious old stone porch as the carriage droveup, and stood at the top of the terrace steps waiting for us. I guessedimmediately that this must be Mrs. Darrell.

  Milly hung back a little shyly, as her father led her up the steps withher hand through his arm. She was very pale, and I could see that shewas trembling. Mrs. Darrell came forward to her quickly, and kissed her.

  'My darling Emily,' she cried, 'I am so delighted to see you atlast.--O William, you did not deceive me when you promised me abeautiful daughter.'

  Milly blushed, and smiled at this compliment, but still clung to herfather, with shy downcast eyes.

  I had time to look at Mrs. Darrell while this introduction was beingmade. She was not by any means a beautiful woman, but she was what Isuppose would have been called eminently interesting. She was tall andslim, very graceful-looking, with a beautiful throat and a well-shapedhead. Her features, with the exception of her eyes, were in no wayremarkable; but those were sufficiently striking to give character to aface that might otherwise have been insipid. They were large luminousgray eyes, with black lashes, and rather strongly-marked brows of amuch darker brown than her hair. That was of a nondescript shade,neither auburn nor chestnut, and with little light or colour in itssoft silky masses; but it seemed to harmonise very well with her palecomplexion. Lavater has warned us to distrust any one whose hair andeyebrows are of a different colour. I remembered this as I looked atMrs. Darrell.

  She was dressed in white; and I fancied the transparent muslin, with noother ornament than a lilac ribbon at the waist, was peculiarlybecoming to her slender figure and delicate face. Her husband seemed tothink so too, for he looked at her with a fond admiring glance as heoffered her his arm to return to the house.

  'I mustn't forget to introduce Miss Crofton to you, Augusta,' he said;'a school friend of Milly's, who has kindly accepted my invitation tospend the holidays with her.'

  Mrs. Darrell gave me her hand; but I fancied that she did so rathercoldly, and I had an uneasy sense that I was not very welcome to thenew mistress of Thornleigh.

  'You will find your old rooms all ready for you, Milly,' she said; 'Isuppose we had better put Miss Crofton in the blue room--next yours?'

  'If you please, Mrs. Darrell.'

  'What, Milly, won't you call me mamma?'

  Milly was silent for a few moments, with a pained expression in herface.

  'Pray, forgive me,' she said in a low voice; 'I cannot call any one bythat name.'

  Augusta Darrell kissed her again silently.

  'It shall be as you wish, dear,' she said, after a pause.

  A rosy-cheeked, pleasant-looking girl, who had been accustomed to waiton Milly in the old time, came forward to meet us, and ran before us toour rooms, expressing her delight at her young lady's return all theway she went.

  The rooms were very pretty, and were situated in that portion of thehouse which looked towards the sea. There was a sitting-room, brightlyfurnished with some light kind of wood, and with chintz hangings allover rose-buds and butterflies. This had been Milly's schoolroom, andthere was a good many books in two pretty-looking bookcases on eachside of the fireplace. Besides these, there were some curious oldcabinets full of shells and china. It was altogether the prettiest,most homelike room one could imagine.

  Opening out of this, there was a large airy bedroom, with three windowscommanding that glorious view of moorland and sea; and beyond that, adainty little dressing-room. The next door in the corridor opened intothe room that had been allotted to me; a large comfortable-lookingroom, in which there was an old-fashioned mahogany four-post bed withblue-damask curtains.

  I went to Milly's dressing-room when my own simple toilet was finished,and stood by the open window talking to her while she arranged herhair. She dismissed her little maid directly I went into the room, andI felt she had something to say to me.

  'Well, Mary,' she began at once, 'what do you think of her?'

  'Of Mrs. Darrell?'

  'Of course.'

  'What opinion can I possibly form about her, after seeing her for threeminutes, Milly? I think she is very elegant-looking. That is the onlyidea I have about her yet.'

  'Do you think she looks _true_, Mary? Do you think she has married papabecause she loves him?'

  'My dear child, how can I tell that? She is a great many years youngerthan your papa, but I do not see that the difference between them needbe any real hindrance to her loving him. He is a man whom any womanmight care for, I should think; to say nothing of her natural gratitudetowards the man who has rescued her from a position of dependence.'

  'Gratitude is all nonsense,' Miss Darrell answered impatiently. 'I wantto know that my father is loved as he deserves to be loved. I shallnever tolerate that woman unless I can feel sure of that.'

  'I believe you are prejudiced against her already, Milly,' I saidreproachfully.

  'I daresay I am, Mary. I daresay I feel unjustly about her; but I don'tlike her face.'

  'What is there in her face that you don't like?'

  'O, I can't tell you that--an undefinable something. I have a sort ofconviction that she and I can never love each other.'

  'It is rather hard upon Mrs. Darrell to begin with such a feeling asthat, Milly.'

  'I can't help it. Of course I shall try to do my duty to her, forpapa's sake, and I shall do my best to conquer all these unchristianfeelings. But we cannot command our hearts, you know, Mary, and I don'tthink I shall ever love my stepmother.'

  She took me down to the drawing-room after this. It was half-past six,and we were to dine at seven. The drawing-room was a long room, withfive windows opening on to the terrace, an old-fashioned-looking roomwith panelled walls and a fine arched ceiling. The wainscot was paintedwhite, with gilt mouldings, and the cornice and architraves of thedoors were elaborately carved. The furniture was white-and-gold likethe walls, and in that spurious classical style which prevailed duringthe first French Empire. The window-curtains and coverings of sofas andchairs were of dark-green velvet.

  A gentleman was standing in one of the open windows looking out at thegarden. He turned as Milly and I went in, and I recognised Mr.Stormont. He came forward to shake hands with his cousin, and smiledhis peculiar slow smile at her expression of surprise.

  'You didn't know I was here, Milly?'

  'No, indeed; I had no idea of seeing you.'

  'I wonder your father did not tell you of my visit. I came over thismorning for a fortnight's holiday. I've been working a little harderthan usual lately, and my uncle is good enough to say I have earned arest.'

  'I wonder you don't go abroad for a change.'

  'I don't care about a change. I had much rather come to Thornleigh.'

  He looked at her very earnestly as he said this. I had been sure of itthat afternoon when we all three sat in the summer-house at AlburyLodge, but I could see that Milly herself had no idea of the truth.

  'Well, Milly, what do you think of your new mamma?' he asked presently.

  'I had rather not tell you yet.'

  'Humph! that hardly sounds favourable to the lady. She seems to me avery charming person; but she is not my stepmother, and, of course,that makes a difference. Your father is intensely devoted.'

  Mr. Darrell came into the room a few minutes after this, and his wifefollowed him almost immediately. Milly placed herself next her father,and contrived to absorb his attention, not quite to the satisfaction ofthe elder lady, I fancied. Those bright gray eyes flashed upon mydarling with a brief look of anger, which changed in the next moment toquiet watchfulness.

  Mrs. Darrell stood by one of the tables, idly turning over some booksand papers
, and finding me seated near her, began to talk to mepresently in a very gracious manner, asking me how I liked Thornleigh,and a few other questions of a stereotyped kind; but even while shetalked those watchful eyes were always turned towards the window wherethe father and daughter stood side by side. Mr. Stormont came over toher while she was talking to me, and joined in the conversation; in themidst of which a grave gray-haired old butler came to announce dinner.

  Mr. Stormont offered his arm to the lady of the house, while Mr.Darrell gave one arm to me and the other to his daughter; and we wentdown a long passage, at the end of which was the dining-room, a nobleold room, with dark oak panelling and a great many pictures by the oldmasters, which were, no doubt, as valuable as they were dingy. We dinedat an oval table,