by L. T. Meade
CHAPTER V.
THE CONTENTS OF THE CABINET.
The uneasiness Miss Martineau felt was by no means shared by thegirls. Primrose had in reality a very practical nature; she couldhousekeep well, and no baker or butcher who ventured to show his facein Rosebury would dream of cheating this bright young lady. No onecould make half-a-crown, or even a shilling, go farther than Primrosecould. No one could more cleverly convert an old dress into a new, buther little experiences ended here. She had kept the house for hermother, and been both thrifty and saving, but real responsibility hadnever been hers. The overpowering sensation of knowing that she mustmake so much money meet so many absolute necessities had never touchedher young life. Miss Martineau's words had made her a littlethoughtful, but by no means anxious. If she and her sisters could notlive on thirty pounds a year there was still the money in the bank.
Primrose thought two hundred pounds, if not a large, at least a verycomfortable sum. The only real effect that her old governess's wordshad on her was to make her a little extra saving.
Jasmine never liked Primrose when she was in a saving mood, and shegrumbled audibly when, the morning after Miss Martineau's visit, herelder sister suggested that they should do without some black cottondresses which the day before they had decided to buy and to make forthemselves.
"Such nonsense!" said Jasmine, stamping her little foot impatiently;"you know we want the dresses, Primrose. You know poor Daisy can't runand play in the garden in her black cashmere frock, and I can't dig orweed. You know, when we decided to go on just as usual, just as ifmamma--was--was--"
Here Jasmine paused, gulped down a sob, and said, hastily, "We wantour print dresses, and we can't do without them. You are justfrightened, Primrose, by what Miss Martineau said."
"I am not at all frightened," answered Primrose, calmly; "only I thinkwe ought to be careful."
"And we are so rich, too," said Jasmine. "I never thought we had twohundred pounds in the bank. Why it's heaps and lots of money.Primrose, what are you so grave about?"
"Only," said Primrose, in her slow voice, "only Miss Martineau thoughtit very, very little money. She looked so grave when she spoke aboutit--indeed, she seemed almost sad. Jasmine, I really think MissMartineau quite loves us."
"Perhaps," said Jasmine, in an indifferent tone. "Well, Rose, if youare quite determined to be shabby and saving, I may as well join Daisyin the garden."
Jasmine stooped down, kissed her sister lightly on the forehead, andthen ran out of the room. A moment or two later Primrose heardlaughing voices floating in through the open window. She was glad inher heart that Jasmine and Daisy were beginning to do things just asusual, and yet somehow their laughter gave her a pang.
The little cottage was a tiny place; it consisted downstairs of onelong low room, with a bay window at the extreme end. This room theMainwarings called the drawing-room, and it was really furnished withgreat daintiness and care. At one end was the bay window, at the otherwere glass doors which opened directly into the garden. The kitchenwas at the other end of the narrow hall, and this also looked on thegarden. Hannah, the one servant, was often heard to object to thisarrangement. She gave solid reasons for her objections, declaringroundly that human nature was far more agreeable to her than any partof the vegetable kingdom; but though Hannah found her small kitchenrather dull, and never during the years she stayed with them developedthe slightest taste for the beauties of Nature, she was sincerelyattached to the Mainwaring girls, and took care to serve them well.
Upstairs were two bedrooms--one looking to the street, in which thegirls slept, the prettiest room with the garden view being reservedfor Mrs. Mainwaring. Hannah occupied a small and attic-like apartmentover the kitchen.
When Jasmine ran into the garden Primrose slowly rose from her seatand went upstairs. It occurred to her that this was a fittingopportunity to do something which she longed and dreaded toaccomplish.
Since her mother's death, since the moment when the three young girlshad bent over the coffin and strewed flowers over the form they loved,the sisters had not gone near this room.
Hannah had dusted it and kept it tidy, but the blinds had been drawndown and the sun excluded. The girls had shrunk from entering thischamber; it seemed to them like a grave. They passed it with reverentsteps, and spoke in whispers as they stole on tiptoe by the closeddoor.
It occurred, however, to Primrose that now was an opportunity when shemight come into the room and put some of her mother's treasuresstraight. She unlocked the door and entered; a chill, cold feelingstruck on her. Had she been Jasmine she would have turned and fled,but being Primrose, she instantly did what her clear common sense toldher was the sensible course.
"We have made up our minds to go on as usual," she said to herself;"and letting in the sunlight and the daylight is not forgetting ourdear mother."
Then she pulled up the blinds, and threw the window-sashes wide open.
A breath of soft warm air from the garden instantly filled the drearychamber, and Primrose, sitting down by an old-fashioned littlecabinet, slipped a key into the lock of the centre drawer, and openedit.
Mrs. Mainwaring had been by no means a tidy or careful person--shehated locks, and seemed to have a regular aversion to neatly-keptdrawers or wardrobes, but this one little cabinet, which had belongedto the girls' father, was a remarkable exception to the general rule.
Mrs. Mainwaring never, even to Primrose, parted with the key of thiscabinet. Whenever the girls were present it was locked--even Daisycould not coax mother to show her the contents of any of thosetempting little drawers--"only mementoes, darling--only mementoes,"the lady would say, but the girls knew that mother herself often inthe dead of night looked into the locked drawers, and they generallynoticed that the next day she was weaker and sadder than usual.
On the top of the cabinet a miniature painting of Captain Mainwaringwas always to be found, and the girls used to love to keep a vase ofthe choicest flowers close to father's picture.
When Mrs. Mainwaring died, Jasmine cried nearly the whole of one nightat the thought of the little old-fashioned cabinet--for now she feltquite sure that no one would ever dare to open it, "and I don't liketo think of the mementoes being never seen again," she sobbed: "Itseems cruel to them."
Then Primrose promised to undertake this dreaded task, and here washer opportunity.
Primrose was not at all a nervous girl, and with the soft summer airfilling the chamber, and driving out all the ghosts of solitude andgloom, she commenced her task. She determined to look through thecontents of the little cabinet with method, and she resolved to beginwith the large centre drawer. She pulled it open, and was surprised tofind that it was nearly empty.
A few papers, on which verses and quotations from Books of Sermonswere copied in her mother's hand-writing, lay about; these, and oneparcel which was carefully wrapped up in soft white tissue-paper, werethe sole contents of the centre drawer. Primrose pulled the parcelfrom where it lay half-hidden at the back of the drawer. She feltself-possessed, but her fingers trembled slightly as she touched it.It was folded up most carefully--the wrappings were kept in theirplace by white satin ribbon, and on a slip of white paper which hadbeen placed on the top of the parcel, and secured by the ribbon,Primrose read a few words:
"Arthur's little desk--for Primrose now."
She felt her color coming high, and her heart beating. Who wasArthur?--she had never heard of him--her father's name had been John.Who was the unknown Arthur, whose desk was now given to her?
She untied the parcel slowly, but with shaking fingers.
The little desk was a battered one, ink-stained, and of a slight andcheap construction. Inside it contained one treasure, a thick letter,with the words "For Primrose" written in her mother's writing on theenvelope.
An unexpected message from those who are dead will set the strongestnerves quivering. At sight of this letter Primrose laid her prettyyellow head down on the little old cabinet, and sobbed long andbitterly.
How long she might have wept she could never say, but her tears weresuddenly brought to an abrupt termination. When she entered hermother's room she had not locked the door, and now a voice sounded ather elbow:
"Eh!--my word--dear, dear, deary me! Now, Miss Primrose, to think ofyou creeping up like this, and 'worriting' yourself over the secretsin the little bit of a cabinet. Your poor mamma knew what she wasabout when she kept that cabinet locked, and for all the good they'llever do, she might well have burnt the bits of fallals she kept there.There, darling, don't spoil your pretty eyes crying over what's deadand gone, and can never be put right again--never. Shut up thecabinet, Miss Primrose, and put your hair a bit straight, for Mrs.Ellsworthy, from Shortlands, is down in the drawing-room, and wantingto see you most particular 'bad.'"